A/N) Hello! I hope everyone had a great Christmas! As you have probably all guessed I did get away, the snow didn't stop us, thankfully! Had a few nice days visiting family and plus I managed to do more writing. Currently I am writing chapter 77 and 78. I'm hoping to have this story finished by 2nd January 2011, which I think is doable. (Chapter 78 is nearly finished, with 77 well on its way to completion.)

On to the story...

Chapter Seventy-Four: Griphook

Voldemort stood in front of them, his black robes billowing around him in the slight breeze, an unfamiliar wand in his hand which he raised to point directly at Harry's chest. His red eyes blazed in triumph and a cruel smile twisted his lips. "Harry Potter," he hissed, "the Boy-Who-Lived, we meet again..."

Harry's eyes flickered all around him, searching the faces of all the Death Eaters that surrounded them. There were at least twenty and that could prove to be too many. The rest of his companions had spread out, determination etched into their faces, wands held out in front of them, ready to fight for their lives. Harry fingered his own wand, his heart beating fast in his chest. He shouldn't be facing him now! Voldemort was still invincible!

Harry stepped forward away from the group, standing tall. "You want me, come and get me."

"It will be my pleasure, Harry Potter," was the tranquil reply.

Harry swallowed and knew Sirius was tensing behind him. Why had he stepped forward? They had no chance! But his mind was set. If I am to die now, I'm not going to stand here and let him do it! Harry had vowed that long ago when he had first learnt of the Prophecy. If he was supposed to die then he would go down fighting, not bowing before Lord Voldemort and begging for mercy.

"Harry," warned Sirius from behind him.

Harry ignored him and took another step forward, his wand raised in front of him, positioning himself in his practised defence stance. This would be the first time he would get the chance to test out his new skills. The Dark Lord would be surprised at his new set of skills, he was sure of that.

A grim smile flicked at his lips. The others stood behind him at his back, ready to fight, but not daring to move just yet. The Anti-Apparation wards were past the circle of Death Eaters now surrounding them. They had a choice, either bring them down or get out of the barrier, but either way they would have to fight.

Voldemort's wand seemed to twitch, the one that was not his. Harry knew what his foe was about to and he dived to the side as the killing curse shot towards where he had been standing. Behind him, the others scattered, firing off their own spells quickly, summoning shields to protect them all against the flood of curses coming from all directions as the Death Eaters leapt into action.

Harry had yet to cast a curse; his mind was running through the list he had learnt from Sirius, but his green eyes focused heavily upon Voldemort's black-clad form. He grinned mirthlessly as he swivelled, twisting away from another killing curse which narrowly missed Hermione. But then his wand arm was moving of its own accord. He felt a burst of power sweeping through him and from his wand a jet of orange fire erupted, hitting Voldemort directly in his chest.

There was a screech of fury as he went sailing. The fight seemed to still for only a few seconds as Death Eaters glanced towards their master to see him getting to his feet, the wand he held in his hand shattered, broken in half, with one end on the grass at his feet.

Harry's hand was shaking. What had he done? How had he managed to do that?

Voldemort's red eyes stared straight at him and he forced his head away, checking to make sure the barriers he held in place around his mind were still there. Darkness seemed to creep into his mind, trying to break through but Harry summoned all his strength and threw Voldemort out. Another yell of fury erupted from the Dark Lord.

"Temper, temper," baited Harry, knowing he had won for now.

"I will kill you boy, make no mistake about that," yelled Voldemort.

"Maybe," whispered Harry, "but not today."

With a perceptible nod in the direction of his Death Eaters, Harry felt a shimmer in the air as something broke around them, and then Voldemort and his followers were gone.

Harry whirled around on the spot, his green eyes going from person to person. Hermione was looking at him in shock, a red cut dozed the side of her face. Sirius just stood there, eyes wide in surprise. The jacket he wore was ripped in the side, a thin amount of blood oozing from inside. As Harry looked around at his other companions, he saw the bloodied form of Dirk Cresswell, twitching on the floor, Ted kneeling at his side as he fought desperately to save his life. A body of one of the goblins lay forgotten to the side, hit undoubtedly by the killing curse.

"Someone help me!" shouted Ted. There was frustration in his voice. He had been the only one to notice Dirk Cresswell fall after all.

Sirius was by his side in an instant, ignoring the pain in his arm to help his friend. His wand moved over Dirk's body, muttering incantations under his breath.

"Harry," said Hermione, swallowing, "what happened?"

Harry lifted his wand up to his eyes. "I don't know. My wand just felt drawn to him... I didn't do anything myself. It just happened..."

"But you must have done something?" insisted Ron. "It single-handedly destroyed You-Know-Who's wand!"

Harry shook his head. "That wasn't his wand. He's using someone else's. Our wands can't fight each other." He looked at his wand, inspecting it and running his fingers over the wood. Why had his wand reacted like that? I guess I will never know. "I guess it makes sense though for him to use a different wand. But if my wand is capable of beating another's wand when it is in his use, then how am I supposed to fight him?"

"I don't know," whispered Hermione. "Whatever happens, Harry, we'll be here for you."

"You saved our lives," said Dean, who had been standing slightly to the side, feeling a little lost and out of place. "I'd do anything to repay you."

Harry would have replied if Sirius hadn't let out a vehement shriek of fury. "Er, Sirius?"

Sirius looked over his shoulder at Harry. "I couldn't save him." The body that lay on the hard ground before him was doused in red, and Sirius' hands were sticky with it. "Another casualty of this war, all because he was a Muggle-born," he spat.

"It was Bellatrix," explained Ted. "When the fight broke out she aimed at me, but Dirk got in the way. As soon as he was hit he collapsed, blood everywhere. I couldn't do anything to help him then as I was too busy fending myself against the rest."

"We were barely fighting for a minute," replied Sirius, "and two people lost their lives in that." His eyes roamed towards the dead goblin. "We have to get out of here."

"But we can't leave their bodies!" said Hermione indignantly, folding her arms and giving Sirius a defiant look.

"No, we can't. It's not the way to honour the dead," said Harry. "We take them with us and give them a burial in the best place we can and, maybe, after all this is over, we can come back and give them the goodbye they truly deserve." It wasn't fair – or right – for anyone to not be honoured or respected in death. No one deserved to be left in the middle of nowhere. Even Voldemort did not deserve that, no matter what he had done in his lifetime.

And that is what separates me from Voldemort, thought Harry, I may hate him for what he has done to me and my family, but even in death he does not deserve to be left out to rot. He won't be honoured or respected but a grave will be made for him. Providing of course, I don't go to mine first.

Harry moved towards the body of the dead goblin, aware of the other's eyes upon him as he gently lifted the creature up into his arms. "Where do we go?"

"There's a field in North Wales that James and I went camping in one summer. It's near the seaside Muggle resort called Portmeirion. Visualise a field that is full of plant life but with a seaside breeze in the air," suggested Sirius as he hoisted the bloody form of Dirk Cresswell into his arms.

"I've been there before," Hermione said, "with mum and dad when I was a little girl. I think I know where you are talking about."

"Then you take the others along with you. Do you think you'd be able to Apparate everyone there?" Sirius was referring to both Ted and Dean and the other goblin. For a young witch that was a lot of people to take along with on Side-Apparation.

"I think so. If not, I know Portmeirion and can always make enquiries about a camper's field," she said, holding out her hands so that Dean and Ted could grasp it. Ron laid a hand on her shoulder with the goblin gripping her leg. "Ok, here goes." With a loud POP, the group vanished.

"After you, Harry," said Sirius.

Harry snorted. "How did I know you were going to say that?"

"You know me too well," his godfather replied.

Shaking his head in amusement Harry Disapparated, focusing on the destination that both Sirius and Hermione had described to him. As soon as he had gone, Sirius took one more glance around the deserted area, spun on the spot and was gone.

Wales was a beautiful country, especially in the summer when the hot sun beat down upon the countryside giving life to the flowers and planet-life that grew there. All sorts of animals survived in the barren wilderness. Currently a deer and a stag fed from a field with overgrown grass, strolling through it without a care in the world.

Suddenly, a loud POP echoed around them and startled, the animals fled, not daring to look back. But this was no gunshot, rather the noise of magical folk Apparating into the field. If the deer and the stag had stayed they would have seen a group of dishevelled and bloody figures emerge from nowhere, two of them slumping to the hard ground, while a red haired boy ran around the group, waving a piece of wood in the air. Seconds later, the group disappeared, hidden by the magical barriers that protected them.

Inside these crafted walls, Harry Potter dug two graves with a spade, declining to use magic. He felt it was nobler that way. It felt right. The tents were set up and those with injuries were being healed from the packs that Sirius had provided for them before they had gone on the run. Their supplies, in that area, thankfully, were not as depleted as their food and water were.

With Ted's help, Harry lowered Dirk's body into one grave and then lifted the body of the goblin whose name was Gornuk and placed him within the mud. Then he grasped the spade once more and filled the graves with mud, patting the tops when he finished. Picking up two stones, Harry dug a small hole in each grave and set them within it, so he would know where to find the bodies when he came to give them a more fitting burial.

Harry ducked back inside the tent. Sirius was busy tending to the wounds completely disregarding his own in favour of the others. The remaining goblin sat in the far corner, hunched up, cradling what looked like a broken arm, though a bandage and a sling now held it in place. It's dark, unreadable eyes were fixed upon the sword of Gryffindor that lay upon Harry's bed. As a precaution, every time they set up the tent, Harry had always placed it there so they knew where it was at all times, but he didn't like the expression on the goblin's face and he moved over to his own bed, pulling the Invisibility Cloak from his own robes and quickly throwing it over the sword, hiding it from view.

When he turned back towards the goblin, he found the creature looking at him with a mixture of awe and disproval. He decided not to comment but walked over to Ron and sat beside him. A slight smile flickered across his face as he saw Sirius struggling against Ted, adamant that he didn't need medical attention, but the combo efforts of Hermione and Ted wore him down, and reluctantly, his godfather sat down for treatment.

Once all the injuries had been healed, Hermione set to work on a meal while Dean sat cross-legged on the floor, staring up at Harry. His dark eyes were studying his former room-mate. "I always knew you were powerful, Harry, but I never thought you'd be able to do that."

"I've been fighting him for years, Dean," replied Harry. "I've got to."

"But what are you doing out here? We've all heard rumours that you've died or been captured..."

"Just running," said Harry elusively.

"Why do I get the feeling that you can't say because it is some big secret?" observed Dean.

"You'd be right about that," answered Harry, with a mysterious tone in his voice. He shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry."

Dean ran a hand through his curly hair. "I hated being on the run, not knowing that was going on outside. I knew you were out there somewhere, but that was it."

Harry grimaced. "I feel exactly the same way. We're all on tenterhooks; we just don't know who is on our side any more. We're trying our best, Dean. I'd give anything to trade this tent for my nice, comfy bed back at Hogwarts or even at Grimmauld Place! Better yet, to go back home, to the cottage Sirius and I used to live at. We haven't been there for over a year, not since You-Know-Who returned."

"Where was it?" asked Dean. "I knew after he was cleared you went to live with him..."

"Godric's Hollow. It's the house that my parents lived in before they died. It's legally mine and was rebuilt. I didn't know about it until Sirius showed me. It was a nice place, even if it was the place mum and dad died. It feels like home, like I should be there," sighed Harry. "I'd give anything to be a normal boy, and not have to deal with this. But I have to. If I survive this, I'll go back there."

"Harry?" Dean bit his lip. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, not really without me telling you what I'm up to, but I can't. It's not that I don't trust you..."

"You don't trust You-Know-Who," finished Dean, understanding the dilemma his friend was in.

"No, I don't. He had a way of reading people's mind. If I tell too many people then he could easily discover what I'm up to by reading your mind."

"He can do that?" Dean was astonished, his eyes wide.

Harry nodded. "That's why I can't say. The less people that know, the safer I will be."

"If that is what it takes to keep you safe then I'll probe no more," promised Dean. "Just be careful."

Harry laughed sourly. "We have been careful. And we tried our best to reach you before the Death Eaters did but they knew we might seek you out and had already planned an attack in the event of that. We're going to have to split up soon. Sirius, Ron, Hermione and I have to do something important," he explained. "The best thing you can do, Dean, is to try and stay off their radar for as long as possible. I don't know where you can go..."

"Harry, we'll be fine," replied his friend. "I believe in you. You'll win, I just know it."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "You really think that?"

Dean nodded vigorously. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't."

Harry wasn't sure if Dean believing in him made him feel more confident in his ability to take down Voldemort or not. If anything, it slightly worried him that everyone was counting on him to bring about an end to this war.

What if I fail? What then?

Harry cautiously approached the goblin in the tent, quietly muttering a spell under his breath so that no one could eavesdrop on their conversation. He didn't even know his name, hadn't thought to ask once they had arrived at safety. He sat down in front of the goblin, crossing his legs and looked at the creature, taking in his unreadable expression, pointed ears and dark eyes. His fingers were long and the goblin held his broken arm against his chest.

"Hello," he began, "I'd like a word with you, if you don't mind?" He was cautious, polite; careful to not offend the goblin in any way.

"You don't remember do you, Harry Potter?" the goblin asked, tilting his head to the side.

Harry swallowed and stared at the goblin but then he remembered. He knew this goblin's name. "You're Griphook," he said, taking a chance. "When I first came to Gringotts, you showed me to my vault."

"So you do remember," stated the goblin. "Amongst goblins, you are very famous."

Harry didn't know what to say and he rubbed his forehead. How could he ask this goblin to help him stage a break-in at Gringotts?

"You buried my friend and colleague. Why was that?"

This was turning into a question and answer game but Harry obliged. "Because no one deserves to not be honoured in death, they shouldn't be left out in the cold world without a proper burial. Everyone should be treated equally, no matter their birth or their species."

"You are a very unusual wizard, Harry Potter. Not many would be concerned with equality among everyone. Nor would a wizard have dug a grave without using magic. Why?"

"Why did I dig the grave?" asked Harry confused. Where was this going? "I don't know. I just did. Maybe a part of me thinks that goblins and house-elves should be respected. Digging a grave just felt right. If it had been anyone else, I would have done the same, no matter who they were."

Griphook was silent, as if he was in deep thought. Harry could not help noticing the piercing gaze the goblin had on where the sword of Gryffindor lay hidden beneath his cloak.

"You have also freed house-elves from their enslavement."

Harry eyebrows rose in surprise. "What has Dobby got to do with anything?" Years ago, long before he had even known Sirius was his godfather, Harry had helped free a house-elf that had been treated unfairly by the family that had owned him.

Again Griphook did not answer the question, instead he pressed on.

"You also intended on rescuing goblins when you could have left me and my colleague behind. Instead, your godfather was honourable in taking us with him. Many wizards would not do that. They would leave us. You bravely stepped forward to face death to save us all. You and your guardian are highly irregular among wizard-kind, Harry Potter."

Harry bit his lip. So, he was even more unusual then he already was? Just what I need. "Look, I need to ask you something, and I know it is unlikely you'll help us." He waited for the goblin to encourage him, but he didn't, so Harry pressed on, taking a deep breath to stave off disappointment when the rejection came. "I need to break into a Gringotts vault."

"Break into a Gringotts vault?" repeated the goblin, shifting slightly on the bed; his dark eyes continuing to penetrate Harry's own. "It is impossible."

Harry shook his head, spurred on by the memories that were bursting forth. "No, it isn't. It has been done before. The same day I first met you, my birthday, just over six years ago."

The goblins eyes darkened ever more and his voice was hard. "The vault in question was empty at the time. Its protection was minimal."

He's offended that someone would ask this of him, thought Harry. But he continued; he had to get this done. "The vault we need to get into isn't empty, and I'm guessing its protection will be pretty powerful. It belongs to the Lestranges." They had already decided that Bellatrix could possibly be in possession of a Horcrux, but since she was married and had access to the Lestrange vault and not the Black vault (which was Sirius') then anything that needed to be protected would have to be in the name of her husband.

Griphook's voice was flat. "You have no chance, no chance at all." He began to recite the words Harry had first seen outside Gringotts on his first ever trip to Diagon Alley. "If you seek beneath our floors, a treasure that was never yours –"

"I remember," Harry cut him off. "But I'm not trying to get myself any treasure, I'm not trying to take anything for personal gain. Can you believe that?"

Once more the goblin cricked his head to the side, scrutinising Harry with his intelligent eyes. "If there was a wizard of whom I would believe that they did not seek personal gain, it would be you, Harry Potter. Goblins and elves are not used to the protection or the respect that you have shown this night. Not from wand-carriers."

"Wand-carriers?" Why did that word feel odd on his tongue?

"The right to carry a wand has long been contested between wizards and goblins," said the goblin quietly, taking his gaze away from Harry and looking down at his lap. "Wizards refuse to share the secrets of wand-lore with other magical beings; they deny us the possibility of extending our powers beyond what they already are! We already share things with you!"

Harry swallowed and saw for the first time that the goblin was bitter, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to this then met the eye. He recalled the goblin's keen interest in the sword. "Why is the sword of Gryffindor so important to you, Griphook?"

"I will think about what you have asked of me," replied the goblin, completely ignoring the question.

I shouldn't push for more information, Harry's mind roared at him.

"Come and find me when you want to talk. I will tell you why I need to get into Gringotts," instructed Harry, getting to his feet and turning away from the goblin.

"Wait." The voice was harsh.

Harry turned back, looking down at the goblin.

"What do you seek within the Lestranges' vault?"

"A cup that belonged to Helga Hufflepuff," responded Harry honestly. "It's important that we find it. I wouldn't be asking otherwise."

"It would be treachery if I agreed to help you," replied the goblin steadily, "however I will think about it and consider what you can give me in return for my aid."

Harry felt uneasy but he nodded and stepped away, waving Sirius' wand to dismantle the protections he had out up. Why do I have the feeling that the sword has everything to do with this? As he looked over his shoulder, Harry couldn't help but frown as the goblin kept its steady eyes upon the bed where the sword lay hidden.

A day later Harry was called by Griphook to go and see him. Overnight, he and Sirius had begun to plan a break-in at Gringotts though without the goblin's help they would be unable to guess at what protections surrounded the place. The only piece of information they really knew was that wizards had taken over control of the bank – who knew what protections had been added since Griphook had fled?

"I have reached my decision, Harry Potter," rasped Griphook. "I have decided to help you but in return for my aid I expect payment."

Harry shifted on his feet unsure of what to say. "I have gold..."

"Not gold," replied Griphook, shaking his head. "I have enough gold." His black eyes glittered; there seemed to be no whites in his eyes. "I want the sword, the sword of Godric Gryffindor."

Harry's stomach seemed to drop, his spirit plummeting to the very depths of his soul. "You can't have that," he said slowly, "I'm sorry."

"Then, we have a problem." The goblin stared at Harry, assessing him, he was sure.

"Why do you want the sword?" questioned Harry. He knew Griphook had an interest in it, but was there a specific reason why?

"The sword belongs to the goblins. It was taken from Ragnuk the First by Godric Gryffindor a thousand years ago. It is a lost treasure, a masterpiece of goblin work! The sword is the price of my hire, take it or leave it."

An ultimatum, he had to choose. I should have expected this. But we need the sword to destroy the Horcruxes! Another part of his brain responded with: you have the Basilisk fangs. Sirius made sure you had enough just in case the sword was inaccessible! He knew he should consult his godfather on this. He'll say no and that we'll try Gringotts on our own.

"Well?" probed Griphook expectantly.

Was the sword really stolen by Gryffindor? Or was it made for him? Maybe wizards see the sword as a gift and goblins see it as theirs because they made it, not for who it is meant to be for... "Doesn't the sword have Godric Gryffindor's name engraved on it?"

"That is immaterial!" hissed Griphook stubbornly. "It was Ragnuk's! It belongs to the goblins!"

Harry didn't want to press the point any further in case the goblin withdrew his offer of aid. I have to take the risk, don't I? Breathing carefully, and wiping the hair out of his eyes, Harry locked gazes with the goblin and said: "I will give you the sword personally when I am finished with it." There is no time-frame to it. If he accepts, he cannot expect to have the sword after Gringotts and if he tries to I will just have to explain that they are not the terms of our agreement. It felt wrong to be offering it like this but it was the only way Harry could think of. He couldn't involve Sirius purely because his godfather was likely to act rashly and go ahead with planning without Griphook's help. And we need him; we really do if we have any chance of getting into the vault.

"You have my word you'll get the sword," finished Harry, not shifting his gaze from the goblin.

Griphook scrutinised him, looking deep into his eyes, studying him, as if trying to see if Harry was deceiving him in any way. He lifted up the arm that was not bandaged. "Then shake on your word."

Harry took the goblin's hand and shook, sealing the deal he had made. He couldn't help but worry that the goblin knew he wasn't being completely honest with him. He'd just have to hope they'd be able to keep hold of the sword once their task of raiding Gringotts was complete.

Sirius was not pleased with the deal Harry had made but had agreed to go along with it. It was obvious by the way his godfather was acting that he wasn't happy with the circumstances they were now finding themselves in, but Harry hoped he had done what he considered the best option of them all. He hadn't lied to the goblin; he just hadn't stipulated the full terms of the agreement.

The day passed quickly and the occupants of the tent rested, catching up on much needed sleep.

Harry was sitting outside, a little way from the tent, when he heard footsteps approaching. Twisting his head, he relaxed as he saw his godfather walking towards him, shoulders hunched.

"What are you doing out here?" asked Harry. "It's not your shift." It was the middle of the night on the second day they had camped in the field. They planned to move the following day but still they took shifts, keeping watch for any sign of trouble.

A grim smile crossed Sirius' face. "I need to talk to you about the deal you made."

"Oh, what's wrong with it?" Harry had figured this would be coming at some point.

Sirius leaned in closer. "You can't trust him. He doesn't believe that you'll keep your word."

Harry cocked his head to the side. "I will though."

"We need the sword to kill the snake," reminded Sirius gently. "Getting close to it with one of the fangs will be next to impossible. You need to tell the goblin that you will give him the sword after the snake has been killed otherwise once we get into Gringotts he will take it and we won't get it back."

Harry was silent for a few moments. "Do you really think so?"

"I do. Griphook complimented you; if you tell him the full truth then he may just let us keep it until the end. He may even respect you for that. But you will be bound by your promise, even if he accepts it. You will have to give it to him no matter what. He needs to know. Losing the sword is not an option for us."

Sighing, Harry ran a hand through his messy black hair. "I'll do it tomorrow."

Sirius grasped his shoulder and shook him slightly. "Thank you. Perhaps after that we can start planning our break-in?"

"I'm really looking forward to it," drawled his godson. He had a feeling that planning a break-in would be easy but the actual execution of it would be harder to manage. I just have to hope that nothing goes wrong. If we can get that Horcrux maybe the war can be ended within a week. It would just be the snake to finish after all, and one last battle.

To be continued...

Please let me know what you think!

Next chapter: Gringotts - in which Harry and company attempt to break into the Wizarding Bank. To be posted on Thursday.

Until next time!

the-writer1988