TWENTY: Puzzle

Hermione knew they had a problem when the swing of the Locket led them through Diagon Alley and to Gringotts bank. There was absolutely no way that the goblins inside would let them wander around, unimpeded. Even if Remus managed to duck under the Invisibility cloak alongside she and Harry, a bank, of all places, would have failsafes against sneaking around underneath one. Such Cloaks, while rare, were not unheard of, and if she'd been designing a bank – well. It sufficed to say that she would have planned for far more creative contingencies than mere invisibility. Magic mirrors that could see through one? Wards that made the wearer visible when he strode through?

Besides which, Voldemort could have placed the Horcrux anywhere.

1. In one of the vaults of his faithful servants.

... A. Snape's vaults

..._... i. Which would be awfully convenient, wouldn't it?

..._... ii. Would Voldemort be incautious enough to entrust a Horcrux to a spy?

..._... iii. Considering the man's legendary paranoia, probably not.

... B. The Lestrange vaults

..._... i. Likely. No one is as persistent and as mad as Bellatrix Lestrange.

..._... ii. Unlikely to be caught; and even while she was jailed, somehow her family managed to ensure that none of her assets were seized.

..._... iii. Impossible to consider her betraying the cause. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was as likely to trust her as anybody.

..._... iv. However, it might be putting all his Horcruxes in one basket to use her vault…

... C. Pettig –

..._... i. No. He'd been dead too long to have a vault.

2. As a flagstone, or door-pull, or something else innocuous.

... A. It was exactly what she would do, if she were to make a Horcrux.

... B. No. Voldemort was too consumed with his own importance. The object would be:

..._... i. Ostentatious

..._... ii. Personally meaningful

..._... iii. In the vault of a favored servant…

..._... iv. Or a hated enemy? Someone like Voldemort might find that irony rather delicious.

3. Conclusion: too many variables.

And even supposing they did know for certain it was in a vault, and in whose, how would they unlock it?

Hermione tugged Harry off into one of the darkened side-alleys that littered Diagon, keeping a keen eye on Remus to make sure he trailed along. Too well she remembered her last invisible sojourn with Remus Lupin!

Wistfully, she thought back to fourth year: wished for Ron at her and Harry's side, imagined they were off on some adolescent adventure like fetching a sundae from Fortescue's and gossiping about end-of-term exams.

But Fortescue's was closed, now, the shop windows dark and crossed over with wooden boards to prevent squatting. And Diagon Alley suddenly looked like the sort of place where such a thing might be necessary; Hermione hadn't noticed at first because she was so focussed on the swing of the amulet, but Diagon Alley was practically empty, odd for a Saturday in August. (Was it August already?) Students should be shopping for school supplies, readying themselves for their next year at Hogwarts. Children should be running through the streets, tugging their parents to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Flourish and Blotts, Quality Quidditch supplies. Instead, there were no children at all, and the grown witches and wizards she did see were in huddled, quickly-moving groups. They spoke in library-voices, as though afraid anything louder might draw the wrong kind of attention.

As Hermione watched, an unusual group passed by she, Harry and Remus as they crouched at the mouth of the alleyway. This group wore bright colours: loud, raucous, the wind carried their voices on a high, clear, hysterical note. Being brave the only way they knew how, she supposed. Or, she thought grimly, rightly believing it won't matter a jot, either way.

"Come on," she said. "Grimmauld."

Harry nodded. Remus looked worried, but after a moment, he agreed as well.

Hermione pressed her eyes shut against the funhouse mirror image of Diagon Alley, and when she opened them, she was staring up at good old Grimmauld.

The wash of fondness surprised her. She supposed that, be it ever so humble, Grimmauld had become a meeting point of sorts. It was the only place she hadn't been chased out of, the only place she and Harry and Ron (and Draco? and Snape?) could show their faces without fear. She heard Harry emit a sigh of relief as he made it through the door, his hand pressed to the small of her back.

A bit of dust stirred up at their entry, but never fully formed. "Oh, get on with you," she ordered it, and it settled, chastised. A hex broken by Severus Snape even on his worst day still rolled over for her like a whipped dog.

Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak away from their heads, and Hermione breathed another sigh of happiness, running a rough hand through her sweaty curls. "Merlin," she said. "I know I oughtn't complain when we all have worse problems, but…"

Harry's fringe was stuck to his forehead. He jerked his head at Hermione – a wordless Freshening Charm.

"Ahhh," she breathed.

Remus was silent, prowling; doing a circuit of the house, she realized. Making sure it was as safe as the silly children already thought it must be. She flushed and belatedly drew her wand. Harry shrugged, letting Remus have at it; understanding that Remus was going to circle the house until he was satisfied.

"What are we going to do, Harry?" Hermione wondered. "Even assuming the goblins would let us wander where we pleased in the middle of the securest place in the Wizarding World, we'd never be able to open the right vault. Give me a few months and the best libraries in the world, and I might come up with a plan to unlock it without getting us killed, but…" She shook her head, moving down into the kitchens; Harry followed her as she picked up their old, cast-iron teapot, spelled it clean, and filled it with water. "We can't," she said, setting it on the hob. "It can't wait. Harry, did you see Diagon? It looked like Fortescue'd left in a hurry. Been taken? It's a matter of time before they begin taking others. Anyone with useful information. Anyone with the wrong blood…"

"Easy," Harry said, gripping her by the shoulders. "Easy, Hermione."

She looked up at him from under her lashes, daring him to tell her she was being unreasonable, but his face held no condescension or censure, only worry, and she felt her frame relax under his hands.

"We need a plan is all," he said. "We're good with plans."

"You know who's good with plans?" Hermione said. "Draco Malfoy. And Ronald Weasley, too."

There was a space of silence.

"Did it make sense to split up?" Harry said.

Hermione knew what he meant. Not having Ron here felt wrong in a way that seemed to set the entire world two degrees off of centre: just enough to notice the tilt when she held quiet and still.

Even being without Malfoy felt wrong. Hermione would be the first to admit he'd been useful: she was already missing his steady competence, the way he swiftly put Harry in his place without making the other boy defensive. Without Draco or Snape to take on some of the responsibility, she was watching Harry crumple before her eyes. He looked so resigned.

But she also missed the way Draco included her, smiled at her, the warmth that said he liked to have her around. As a girl much smarter than the children she'd grown up with in primary, Hermione valued that clear welcome more than most.

"Remus seems easier in himself now they're gone," Hermione replied, probing that wound alongside all the others.

Harry scrubbed his hand through his fringe. "I think he's relieved he's got only us to manage," he said. But before Hermione could ask what he meant by that, Remus himself had opened the door at the top of the staircase and was peering down.

"It's safe," he said, shortly, and disappeared.

"Four o' clock and all's well," Hermione said, trying to get a smile out of her friend. I'll help you, she wanted to say, always. But Hermione was good at data (the gathering of) and Ron and Draco were good at data (the sensible arrangement of) and Harry was good at action (data or no data), and they were no good when they were missing the middle piece.

Without it (him/them), Hermione knew Harry would dart off in the wrong direction, and Hermione'd never held the key to making him sit and listen about his homework, much less something this important. Too well she remembered how he'd wanted to hare off to Godric's Hollow with no plan whatsoever, and only Draco Malfoy shouting at him had made him see sense.

Hermione sipped her tea in silence, data spinning in her head, and no one to help her make the connections.

Hermione, good as her word, gathered her books to her and began to research ways to break into Gringotts. So far as she knew, no one had ever broken into Gringotts: it was their claim to fame. That meant her best bet was to look up curse-breaking spells and thievery spells and hope she found something obscure enough or complex enough to give them a tiny chance of success.

At the same time, this was entirely unlike their other ventures. They were going to break into a bank, for Merlin's sake – she was practically Bonnie to Harry's Clyde. If they were caught, they weren't going to be killed: or worse, expelled. Instead, they'd be sent to Azkaban, where Death Eaters would find them and enjoy torturing them until they begged for death. Even if she were to somehow escape, or thwart justice, Hermione was grown-up enough to recognize that if her name were ever associated with a bank robbery, she could kiss most conventional careers goodbye after her NEWTs. She'd have to be – she wasn't sure. Something where a bad reputation was something of an asset, she supposed. A freelance cursebreaker? A consulting detective? She snorted.

In any case, she would rather not have her career dreams swiped aside by ugly necessity, so it was important to her plans that her and her friends' involvement never be discovered.

The next several days of fruitless searching were more what she had expected the Horcrux hunt to be like, once Harry had described his plans to her: the waiting part of hurry-up-and-wait. She researched. Harry brooded. Remus made a stab at the mutually exclusive desires of avoiding her and Harry and watching them both like hawks. And August unspooled, hot and damp, frizzing Hermione's hair and her wits.

So it was that when she heard two voices in the drawing room, she was less concerned with discovery, and more excited at the very thought of change. She flew down the stairs – she'd made Regulus's old room her research haunt, out of a combination of nostalgia and vindictive glee – but held back with all the remainder of her own natural good sense.

Sure enough, Ron and Draco stood in the doorway, Draco sternly ordering the dust to settle (just as she had! Hermione had to hold back a giggle). She supposed she should watch them an extra moment, just to be sure they were who they appeared to be, and… she scanned all of the entryway she could see from her perch.

Where were the other two? Hermione could see from here that the Ron in the entry had a shorter, more settled fringe than the Ronald from the other world, and the Draco with the easy, quiet way about him was the one she liked best. Still, she had an especial fondness for that other Ronald, who seemed much easier around her, joked with her, treated her like a favored companion instead of one of the guys like her own Ron did. And she worried what it might mean if Malfoy had been left behind.

"Suppose they've gone out for fish and chips," said Ron to Draco.

Draco ruffled his hair a bit, dislodging dust – apparently, the half-spectre of Dusty Dumbles (as Hermione had taken to privately calling him) had been a bit more aggressive with him. Somewhat more soberly, she wondered if some part of the dusty incarnation recognized its killer somehow, or Draco's Death Eater-ness in some way.

"Can you imagine Harry stopping the Quest for fish and chips?" he asked. "No. They'll be hiding somewhere. Harry will be lurking in some dark corner, planning and brooding."

"Hermione'll be researching," her own Ron said, fond, and Hermione grinned, wiping at a smudge of ink on her right palm.

"Lupin," Draco said, tasting the world. "Lurking, I expect."

Hermione no longer had any doubt. She flew down the stairs and surprised Ron with a hug.

"Oof," he said. "Hullo, Hermione!"

She drew back to offer Draco Malfoy a grin, but he was giving her one of those funny looks. "You look like you've seen a ghost," she told him.

"Do I?" he said. "Sorry. Only… with your hair up, and your feet bare, and it's the right time of year again… you suddenly looked like the Hermione I left behind."

"I reckon she'll forgive one, if you'll forgive the other," Ron said cryptically, then grinned. "A bit like old times, you and me on our own," he said to Draco, and punched him in the shoulder.

Draco rolled his eyes, but he was smiling.

"Where is everyone?" Ron said.

Hermione frowned. "I might ask you the same thing. Where are… the others? No one's hurt, I hope."

The boys exchanged a glance. "Perhaps we ought to wait until we won't have to repeat ourselves," Draco said.

Hermione's smile quavered.

"There," Draco said, and drew close enough to press a warm hand to her bare shoulder. "They're safe, you know. They're both safe." He drew back, but not very far. "Don't make that face, Hermione," he implored, and Hermione felt that stab of fondness she knew she oughtn't on a few weeks' acquaintance. But when faced with a young man who seemed to believe at the very heart of him that she was his family, her own heart responded. Her smile firmed, filled with affection.

"I can see the gears whirring," he teased.

"I – there's been a lot to think about. We think that the next Horcrux is at Gringotts."

To her surprise, Draco nodded, firm. "In Bellatrix Lestrange's vault," he agreed.

To say that brought Hermione up short was an understatement. "What? How do you know?"

Ron looked just as flummoxed. Apparently, Draco hadn't shared this piece of information with the other boy.

Draco shifted his feet. It was the most uncomfortable she'd seen him since he'd told her he understood why she and Harry didn't trust him – though at the time, she hadn't been fully able to accept that his emotions were real.

"My father told me," he said.

Ron turned to stare. "Okay, let's grab Harry and Lupin; they're going to want to hear all this."

Hermione wandered up the stairs in search of Harry; she was pretty sure he'd have to be in one of the bedrooms not to have heard the boys' arrival. Ron and Draco went looking for Remus.

Hermione located Harry in Sirius's old room, which he'd claimed for his own. He was asleep, sprawled across the bed with a book inverted across his chest, glasses askew. Probably Quidditch Through the Ages, she thought, fondly, then was brought up short when she crept close enough to read the title: Hexes and Counterhexes: Advice for the Wartime Wizard.

Hermione chastised herself. Harry was doing his best, but their immobility over the past several days was driving him mad, and that madness tended to display itself in fits of childish temper. Though they'd started out researching together, Hermione had eventually retreated to retain her sanity. She hadn't been aware that Harry was still trying on his own, pushing himself until he slept over his research.

Hermione had never quite loved him as she did, now: while perfectly aware of, even exasperated with, his faults. Because he kept trying, always. Because he tried so hard to do and be good.

"Harry," she said. "Harry, they're back."

Harry opened his eyes, wiped drool away from his mouth absently. "They?"

"Ron and Draco," she said.

Harry sat up fast – too fast. He blinked rapidly. "What? When? What time is it?"

She indulged in a bit of eye-rolling. "It's just past noon. Come downstairs, it's an oven in here anyway."

Harry cast an absent cooling charm and followed her down, blinking sleep away from his eyes.

Hermione wasn't sure how the boys would greet each other. It was perfectly all right for Ron to swing her in a circle, but she wondered if they'd content themselves with manly grunts and 'all right's, or if Harry would let on just how much he'd fretted over the pair in their absence.

Harry did neither. He jogged lightly down the stairs as though they hadn't gone days without seeing Ron, without knowing what had become of him, but then came to a halt at the foot of the stairs. Hermione peered around him. Ron and Draco were looking up at him, Remus beside them.

Harry stayed silent, and Draco went still, like a hound dog on point.

Then, Ron was stepping forward, clasping Harry's hand in his, casting a puzzled look back to Draco as he did so. He clapped a hand across Harry's back. "Glad to see you're all right, mate," he said quietly, and withdrew. Harry mustered up a smile for him.

Still nothing to Draco, although they kept silently looking at each other. She wondered what was passing through that connection of theirs.

"Shall we go downstairs and sit with a cuppa?" Remus offered.

Hermione felt the corner of her lip twitch up. Remus looked exhausted, but some of his native politeness seemed to return with Ron and Draco. Perhaps he was as glad to see them as she and Harry were, in his way.

"Yes, please," Draco said, sounding fervent.

But then there was a rasp at the door.

Remus growled low in the back of his throat. Hermione drew her wand from her skirt pocket. Ron drew the walnut wand, and Harry thrust himself to the front-and-center, ready to die for them if need be. Draco rolled his eyes and moved beside Harry, elbowing him and offering up a half-mad grin before turning to the door.

Hermione savored the sweet sense of being Quite Right, As Usual, when she saw the lines of Harry's back relax just a fraction at the idea of Draco Malfoy with a wand standing right beside him, Draco himself behaving as though someone about to discover the party was as tiresome as a lengthy homework assignment. She grinned, and caught Ron grinning too, and the lot of them were mad as hatters, weren't they, thinking how much fun it was to be back to back and side by side again? But she hardly cared.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake," came a voice, and a wand which pointed at the dust on the floor and Banished it, followed by a hand, and a black-clad arm, and pointed, lace-up-boots, and the sallow face of Severus Snape.

Everyone's wand hand drooped simultaneously, save Remus, who was a tick behind. "Professor!" Harry said, and stood a bit straighter. "We didn't… that is, we're very glad you're back."

Severus Snape took in the situation immediately, with his large, dark eyes, intelligence flashing through them like sheet lightning. "Was it Minerva McGonagall or Bellatrix Lestrange you were hoping to Stupefy?" he inquired archly. "You, at least, Remus, should have been expecting me."

Remus frowned in confusion. Then, "…oh."

"You'd think you should have the ability to keep track of the full moon," Snape growled, "whether you are gallivanting with a bunch of teenagers on a magical scavenger hunt or not. I'm here to make sure you take your medicine, rather than forget. Again."

Lupin said nothing, but he looked rather as though he'd been smacked 'round the face.

"Come along, Remus," Snape said, herding the other man before him, down into the kitchens, where there were Potions ingredients as well as stasis'd bread and apples.

"You haven't called me anything but 'Lupin' in the twenty-some-odd years we've known each other," Lupin replied. "Why is it 'Remus' all of a sudden?"

"Shut up, Remus," Snape said, and the door closed behind them.

"Suppose I sneak down for that kettle and some snacks and bring them up here?" Ron said. "Wolfsbane takes forever, but I reckon we could all use some lunch."

"Suppose we all follow them down?" Draco countered. "Snape will want to hear what happened as well, and he can brew Wolfsbane in his sleep."

So agreed, they all followed the older wizards down to the kitchens. Ron put the kettle on the hob, Harry pulled out bread for sandwiches, and Hermione rustled around for something to put on them. She found lettuce still under one of her own preservation spells, and a bag of preserved apples, and a hock of ham. She cut thick slices off the latter with her wand until there was a good-sized pile, and set it on one of Grimmauld's pieces tarnished silver, one of the ones she'd uncursed.

The boys set to with a will, grabbing at the meat with Scourgified hands, building sandwiches piled high with ham and lettuce. After Draco placed thin slices of apple onto his sandwich, the others had to try it, too, and there were a lot of happy exclamations that had more to do with the company than the simple fare. Remus seemed to relax a notch, smiling at the boys and accepting a sandwich with both hands.

Snape, however, was in full brewing mode, and said little. Eventually, Draco joined him, handing him necessary ingredients, chopping some of the less finicky herbs, and grinding stones to fine powder. Once most of the food was gone, and even Ron had taken to casually picking at the leftover bits of ham, the war talk began in earnest. Hermione listened with horrified fascination as Ron and Draco described what had happened to Ronald. "Oh, no, Draco," she said. "You told me he's all right now, though?"

"Mister Weasley was much recovered last I saw him," Snape replied, crushing aconite beneath a large, marble pestle.

"Last you saw him?" Remus said, and Ron explained the role of Snape and George in his counterpart's recovery.

"And what has become of Mister Malfoy?" Snape returned.

Draco took in a small breath. "He's… well. He's decided to stay behind and take care of Ron. Ronald," he corrected, looking to the Ron at his side.

"He's decided to?" Snape volleyed, not even looking at the small group seated at the table. "I highly doubt it was his decision."

"Yeah, well, all right," Ron agreed. "It wasn't all his decision. Moody has him under house arrest. But he seemed just as pleased," he tacked on. "War doesn't agree with the Malfoy we know. It struck me that he'd rather stay right where he was."

And for some reason, he followed that up with a light flush, which Hermione couldn't parse. Embarrassed, for the other Draco Malfoy beside him? Embarrassed at the very thought of cowardice? It struck me he'd rather stay right where he was.

Hermione snuck a look at Draco from the corner of her eye, but he was contemplating eating another apple. For once, he seemed oblivious to the undercurrents of the conversation.

Snape, however, was not. He looked up from brewing for the first time, with raised brows.

Ron gave him an almost apologetic shrug, and everything slid together.

"Really?" Hermione said, sweeping a stray curl behind her right ear. "He… uh, likes… um, Shell Cottage?"

Ron looked caught out. He shrugged. "Um. Seemed awfully fond of it. Yeah. Sure didn't seem like he minded being stuck with it."

Hermione turned to stare at Draco, who had finally caught on to the fact that he was being discussed in some roundabout fashion. "What?" he said. "Who's stuck with what? Sorry, I was… elsewhere."

"Never you mind," Ron said.

And Hermione, to save Ron from the embarrassment still decorating his features, launched into their own problem.

"It's Bellatrix Lestrange's vault," Draco reiterated. "My father told me while we were pretending to do battle. Then he said that my mother would have to take care of the other one."

Snape looked up. "Lucius Malfoy is an untrustworthy bastard," he snapped.

Remus scoffed. "That is the boy's father you're talking about, Severus."

"A man who would skin you as a werewolf and hang you up on the wall as a decoration for his foyer until his wife told him it was too gauche," Snape returned.

"Ugh! For Merlin's sake!" Remus exclaimed. "As… colorful… as that is… perhaps we should return to the issue at hand."

Hermione hid a gawp behind her cupped palms. She'd never realized how much of what she knew of Remus's personality existed in direct opposition to Severus Snape's. There was no questioning the fact that Remus had been in a dark, angry place since Albus Dumbledore's death, but being with Snape seemed to bring out shades of his old self.

Did it make sense to split up?

"As happy abusing my father's character makes all of us, I am sure, the issue at hand is, dare we trust the information?" Draco said.

"Well," Hermione said, "I mean, it's clearly true that one of the, er, items, is at Gringotts. We've confirmation of that much, at the very least."

"My father's defection makes little sense," Draco said. "The tide is turning, but it's not as though he can see it turn. The Horcrux hunt is, so far as we know as of now, a secret held only by those of us in this room. I am wary of the very fact that he knew we were searching. How could he have discovered our intent? Even… Mrs Malfoy knows nothing of them."

Hermione winced. She thought, what about the affection your father bears you? but it was quite clear Draco thought that could never be a factor, and there was no use rubbing salt into the wound.

"Your father," Snape said, "is doing the intelligent thing: making sure the Dark Lord is indebted to him, but the Light is as well. If the Light wins, it will be in part, his doing. If the Dark Lord wins, it will be in part, his doing. No matter what, he claims amnesty, at the very least. As far as how he knows about Horcruxes?"

There was a pause.

"There are books that mention Horcruxes at Malfoy Manor," Draco said. "Only the darkest magic books, but I remember them. We have left Hogwarts; we must be doing something. As for how he knew where some were, it should only make sense that he might have overheard something Lestrange said. She's mad, you know, and prone to boasts when she's angry."

"Lucius might very well have been entrusted to place the item in her vault in the first place," Severus observed. "Which may play in our favour."

Ron cleared his throat. Hermione smiled; this year, Ron had done a lot of growing up, but he still had a bit of a tentative air when he announced an idea that she found kind of charming. "What about Necto fiddes?" he said. "Wouldn't Malfoy have to help us, even if he didn't want to? Wouldn't he be prevented from scheming against us, even if he didn't know Draco had sworn fealty?"

And that was the other part, Hermione thought; Ron's contributions were often very salient points. It was as if he'd suddenly lost that fear of being seen as bookish that he'd carried all the time she'd known him. Or lost the fear of being seen as slow; it was hard to tell which.

"Then his information cannot be suspect," Snape said with a nod. "Now. The question is, how to get into the vault of Bellatrix Lestrange without her key, her face, or her wand."

Ron's head jerked up. "Er… we do have her wand."

Lupin drew back in surprise, and Harry turned suddenly sullen for some reason. It took Hermione a moment before she remembered why: Ron had pocketed Bellatrix Lestrange's wand at Malfoy Manor, when Harry had been Stunned and Incarcerus'd and stuffed into Snape's closet with a lock over the door. It obviously wasn't a happy memory for the Boy Who Lived in a Closet for Hours.

"You happen to have Bellatrix Lestrange's wand?" Remus growled.

"We don't happen to have it," Ron said. "I stole it when Hermione took the Locket. And I've been using it ever since the Snatchers broke mine." He lay the wand face-up on the table, a twisted, unusually long wand made of black walnut. "Poor thing," he said, stroking a finger down its face, "it seemed right glad to have a new owner."

Remus shook his head. "The wand alone wouldn't confer enough authority," he said. "Wands can be stolen, even lost. If we were to simply show up with Bellatrix Lestrange's wand, it's more likely we would be accused of theft or fraud than let in the most secure building in the country and led to the correct vault. Half of the wards run on intention, besides; like the wards at Malfoy Manor. Anyone meaning to steal something would set them off like a flock of Howlers."

"So who can access a vault, besides its owner?" Hermione asked.

"Family," Draco said, and it took Hermione a moment to catch on.

"Draco, I could focus on you and that I was your guest at the Manor and make myself believe it," she said, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. "But were you ever close to your aunt? Could you imagine her asking you to check on her vaults as a personal favor?"

Draco shook his head. "She… was always mad," he said after a moment of quiet. "And she was in Azkaban most of my life. Mother didn't like to talk about her."

"But after you took the Mark?" Harry said in a low voice.

Draco slumped out of his usual, careful posture; his lips parted, as though he were searching for words.

Oddly, Ron was the one who spoke up. "Malfoy didn't want the Mark," he said. "Not ever, I don't think. I doubt he was much fond of Lestrange then, either."

"Well," said Draco, "perhaps when I was fourteen, and an idiot. Back when I thought it all meant glory and honoring my family name."

"But once it happened, he didn't – there wasn't a time he gladly served," Ron went on, sounding a bit fierce.

Meanwhile, an idea was forming in Hermione's brain. A horrible, overwhelming, terrifying idea. All the pieces were in place. She was surprised that Ron or Draco hadn't spotted it:

I. The Skill Set of Severus Snape

... 1. Severus Snape was a Master of Mind Magics.

..._... A. He'd done something to Draco when he first arrived. Something that changed Draco in a fundamental way.

..._..._...Hermione had deduced this much, but she hadn't gotten him to talk about it.

..._... B. Snape had used Draco's psyche as an anchor point to pull Harry back from death. She suspected the process

..._..._...was far more complex than her current understanding implied.

..._... C. Perhaps most impressively, he had somehow convinced He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named that he had altered

..._..._...the fabric of Draco's very personality, that he had caused Draco to change sides by using something more fundamental

..._..._...and vital and powerful than Imperius.

... 2. Voldemort was (most unfortunately) Not Stupid.

..._... A. Which meant he had evidence (prior) that Snape could do as he suggested, or at the very least, similar things to what he suggested.

..._... B. Therefore, Severus Snape was a Master of Mind Magics, possibly the greatest that ever lived.

II. The Locked Vault of Bellatrix Lestrange

... 1. Only Bellatrix Lestrange herself could open the vault.

... 2. Or a member of her family.

..._... A. Draco Malfoy was Bellatrix Lestrange's family.

..._... B. Severus Snape had already demonstrated that he could alter Draco Malfoy's perceptions with extreme skill.

III. The Wand of Bellatrix Lestrange

... 1. Many wands could be used as keys.

... 2. Even if Bellatrix were too paranoid to have used her wand so, the very presence of said wand would lend legitimacy

..._...to anyone seeking to open her vault.

Therefore…

"I see that look on your face," Draco said. His grey eyes were grim in the dim light of the kitchens. "You know our answer, and we're not going to like it."

Hermione swallowed. "I don't… I'm not sure it'd work, actually. No. I mean, perhaps it's better not to –"

"Out with it, Miss Granger," Snape snapped, sprinkling the powdered aconite into his brew. "Coyness has never before been one of your defects."

"Well," Hermione said, straightening unconsciously, as though Snape had called on her to answer a particularly challenging question in class, "first, you convinced He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named that you could have changed Draco's very nature; and then later, you almost did, when you wove his memories with Harry's. I was just wondering…" Hermione's gaze darted to Draco's. "Well, if you couldn't really convince Draco that he was on an errand from his aunt. To fetch an important item of particular power. Carrying her own wand, as a gesture of good faith."

There was a moment of stillness. Then,

"What?" said Draco in a small voice; Harry shook his head in consternation; and Ron stared at her as though she'd lost her mind entirely.

"A clever idea from the cleverest witch of her age," Remus said, in a tone neither full of warm approval nor entirely mocking: a statement of fact. "But the bank's wards are keyed to recognize Polyjuice and the Imperius. Even if one of us were willing to Imperius Mister Malfoy to believe –"

"I'm not talking about Imperius," Hermione cut in. "I mean – mind magic. If Professor Snape can make Draco believe he is that fourteen-year-old wizard again, I think the wards wouldn't notice. Because it is him, you see; he'd be operating under his own will, nothing interfering with it… or not since the reset itself, anyway," she tacked on.

Remus scoffed. "No one can do that." He turned to Severus. "The very idea that someone could is…"

Hermione turned to face her old professor, who was staring through Remus, features grim.

Remus's face had gone very carefully blank. "You could."

"I've never tried," Snape returned tartly. "I am not in the habit of regressing witches and wizards to their former selves. Besides which, it is out of the question. Mister Malfoy's mind – such as it is – has been damaged enough, already."

"Well. Thank you," Draco said. His own, clear eyes met Hermione's, and she experienced a shiver of doubt and guilt at what she saw there. "But it's a brilliant idea, of course. I'll try it."

"Come on, mate, no," said Ron. "There's another way."

"With all due respect, there may not be," Draco countered. "Hermione, you've spent a few days in preliminary research. What have you found?"

She shook her head. "Nothing," she said. "Nothing that could help us, here. Gringotts has its reputation for a reason." She looked up at Snape. "I'm not talking about damage, in any case," she said. "There is no reason why you ought to have to destroy any part of Draco Malfoy. Just… close off the newest bits, and open them back up when we're done."

Snape paused in his stirring for a moment, before continuing. "Sometimes," he said, in a tightly controlled voice, "you are the stupidest witch I have ever had the misfortune to encounter. What you suggest may in fact be our only road into Gringotts, but do not for an instant imagine that you have the slightest grip on the particulars.

"The Death Eaters are right about one thing," he went on, stirring faster and plopping the next ingredient into the steaming brew with more force than strictly necessary. "It is the tendency of the Muggleborn to misunderstand and misuse magic. It is not a toy you may pick up when it pleases you, and place back upon the shelf once you are done, Miss Granger! Magic has consequences that cannot be reversed by magic alone."

"It has to be Draco's decision," Harry said.

Hermione pressed her lips together. She didn't believe Harry could have said anything that could make Draco feel worse. Draco's gaze darted over to Harry, to her, to Snape, to Remus, to Ron.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah. All right. It's worth a try, I suppose," he added, and stood.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked, rising from his seat as well.

Draco paused with one hand on the wall by the stair, and for a moment Hermione thought he might respond without facing them. But then he turned, and his expression was smooth and calm. "I'm going to get ready," he said. "After all," he added, beginning to head up the stairs, "fourteen-year-old Draco Malfoy would never look like this."

The men began talk of who would stay and who would go, but Hermione knew better. There was strength and power in numbers. And in differing skill-sets with little overlap. It was why she and Harry and Ron loved one another so much and worked together so well: not because of their similarities, but their differences. And looking around the table, she could not imagine a situation where a Potions/Mind-Magic Master, a werewolf, a strategist, a manipulator, a walking encyclopedia, and a Leader of Men wouldn't all come in handy.

She rose from the table and moved up the stairs to tell Draco just that.

A/N: Okay. Helloooo out there! Yes, I am writing again during the school year. Why is that? Because all of us across the pond are covered in a gigantic sheet of snow and ice and have been at sub-zero temperatures for days. No school. No school at all. No hope of school in the foreseeable future.

Last Friday, I sat down and re-read the better part of Geas. On Saturday last, I sat down at my computer, and by Wednesday morning, I'd written more per day than I ever have before, save perhaps one other time: writing HM. Much to my surprise, the story is actually closing on its finish. After this Horcrux, it's just Nagini and the diadem, after all. Wow! Ah, I have so many IDEAS.

A few canon reminders, because I know people will ask about the wand: the wand should obey/ work for Ron, since he took it from Bellatrix, fair and square. Remember that Hermione found Ron's wand cracked in two when the Snatchers took him, so his original wand is doomed.

I'm keeping a much closer eye on the timeline in this story than I did in SoS (where time behaved in a very unusual fashion!). It is the second week in August by the end of this chapter, and as Draco mentions, that's about when he left his own world.

IMHO, the seventh HP novel has the sloppiest writing and plotting of the lot... full of action and excitement and tragedy, but also Fridge Logic and Fridge Horror. I've had to spackle over a number of plot holes in the next few chapters, and I hope the result isn't too glaring.

For those of you following the story, thanks for sticking with me! I would really appreciate some reviews, especially as we go into the next few chapters, which were very challenging to write (despite how fast it went). Let me know what works/does not work for you!

-K

P.S.

Two grammar/punctuation notes, for those who are interested in such things. If you're not, feel free to stop reading. Nothing else on plot, character, or updates here.

First, 'she' vs 'her'. A previous reviewer corrected me (quite correctly!) on the use of she vs her, or he vs him. It still bothers me when it's done correctly in one particular circumstance. When I see "Remus made a stab at the mutually exclusive desires of avoiding her and Harry", I know it's correct ("avoiding HER" NOT "avoiding SHE") but it sounds like it's ending the thought. (Remus made a stab at avoiding her.) So my mind does a little pause that doesn't belong there when I read it - which would NEVER happen if it were 'she'. It bothers me. Now I know why I've been stubbornly doing it wrong, even though I KNOW it's wrong. I wish there were a grammatically correct solution apart from never using that type of phrasing ever again, but there really isn't.

Also, I know people will comment on Snape speaking in two paragraphs. This is not often seen, so: when the same character is talking for awhile, or on more than one subject, you begin a new paragraph but DON'T do an endquote until the character is finished speaking. That's how people know it's still Snape who's talking. You do, however, give a starting quotation mark anytime you begin a NEW paragraph, so that the reader still knows someone's speaking.

Keep reading, keep writing everyone!