Hermione was starting to get very, very annoyed. Nothing seemed to be going right for her these days. Her efforts to flirt with Ron had been going over his head. Lupin had uncovered the mystery of the egg, only to discover that it probably meant Harry was going to have to face merfolk in pursuit of a precious object, or, more likely given Harry's luck, a person. Now they had to figure out how to allow Harry to breathe underwater and that was no small matter. And to top it all off, Malfoy had pulled the rug out from under her regarding her righteous crusade to free the house elves from bondage.

"You're not thinking this through, Granger," Malfoy said smugly (well, smugger than average) after Hermione had tried, quite unsuccessfully, to recruit Slytherins to her cause. She was that desperate. She couldn't understand why people couldn't see that slavery was wrong, full stop, even if the slaves were human. "Your little cause isn't going to work."

"Oh, really, Malfoy?" Hermione said. As much as Malfoy may have been Harry's boyfriend in all but name, she still resented him deeply for the horrible, racist bullying he did to them in his first two years of Hogwarts. She'd made it her mission to try to best him in every intellectual argument they've had and, infuriatingly, she'd actually lost arguments with him. Hermione hardly ever lost an argument! But she would not lose this one. "And let me guess why not. It's because the house elves need to be enslaved. Because if you free a house elf, it'll wither and die without having a master? Is that it?"

She was absolutely certain that would be his argument. She'd heard it from other ridiculous pureblood types before. It was bollocks, and numerous academic sources had agreed. It was a myth no more plausible than the horrid lies used to justify racism and colonization. Hermione was ready to take it down with everything she had, which was quite a lot."

"That's what my father told me," Malfoy said tiredly with an edge of disappointment in his voice. Not at her, though. At Lord Malfoy. "But we both know that's bullshit."

He led her to a table near the window of the Slytherin common room, looking somewhat pitying. God, Hermione hated that look. She'd gotten it often enough in her life. Hatred was one thing. It was a sign she was doing something right. But pity? Hermione could not stand pity. "House elves are magically bound to their owners. They do not have the power to free themselves. You'd have to convince their owners to free them."

"Okay, so how do I do that?"

Malfoy looked at her like she'd said something incredibly dumb. "You can't. Because every family who owns house elves would probably just think of you as a mudblood." Hermione's hackles rose up at the sound of that hated word. "I don't think of you like that anymore," he hastened to add. "But we're talking about people who have owned house elves for centuries. What motivation would they have to give them up? Because you think it's the right thing to do? Don't be naïve."

Hermione felt her cheeks heating up with embarrassment, because, damn it, Malfoy was making sense. She hated that. But she would not be blinded by pride to ignore his arguments. "So what, I'm supposed to give up?"

"Hermione, you can do whatever you want," Malfoy said. "I'm not your friend. I don't care what you do. But since we both care about Harry and he wouldn't want me to give you bad advice, I'll tell you: this crusade of yours is a waste of time. You want to do something for house elves? Then join an advocacy organization to help pass laws that ban house elf abuse after you graduate. All you're doing now is annoying people."

Hermione blinked. "Those exist?"

"Yes," Malfoy said. "I remember my father complaining about them. He couldn't use boiling oil on Dobby anymore because of their meddling. Honestly, Hermione, do you really think you're the first person to ever give a damn about house elves?"

Well, she supposed if he put it like that. Still, it felt wrong just going about her daily business and waiting while house elves continued to suffer in bondage. She didn't care what Malfoy said. Slavery was wrong, and it didn't stop being wrong just because it was traditional. But she did have to concede she was probably underestimating the difficulty of the task ahead of her. Maybe he was right. Maybe she had to be patient.

"I mean, if you want to change things, run for the Folkmoot!" Malfoy went on. "Hell, with Harry's endorsement, you probably literally can't fail, even if you spout out this freeing house elves garbage!"

Hermione narrowed her eyes as she metaphorically pounced on his argument. "So you think house elves should be enslaved!"

"Look, I mean, the way I see it, it's not enslavement so much as it's symbiosis," Malfoy argued. "They're happy, we're happy. Who loses?"

"House elves like Dobby who are abused and want to be free, that's who loses!"

Malfoy flinched. "I don't want to talk about Dobby," he said in a rough, almost strangled voice. "I miss him so much." What the hell? "But at least he's in a better place now." All right, Hogwarts was a better place than Malfoy Manor, Hermione had to concede.

"You were close to Dobby?"

Malfoy gave a wistful smile. It was strange seeing him act like a normal person. When he acted like that, it was much easier to figure out how Harry had fallen in love with him. Maybe he acted like that a lot more when Harry was around. "He was my best friend. When Father yelled at me, he was always there with a kind word. We would play games…" He shook his head. "I don't want to talk about Dobby. The point is, I just don't see who wins if we free all the house elves."

"I am not going to give up," Hermione vowed. Malfoy rolled his eyes, but didn't look surprised. "This may have gotten a lot more…complicated. But I've never failed at anything I've accomplished in my life before, and I'm not going to start now. It may take me decades, but I will succeed."

Malfoy sighed. "Whatever. Just stop pestering people. You're not going to make any allies that way." He did have a point, Hermione reluctantly conceded. "And please drop this for now. Right now, we have to concentrate on helping Harry survive this bloody tournament."

"All right," Hermione said, dragging each word out of her mouth with a herculean effort. "I will put this aside for now. Any more ideas about how to help Harry?"

"I don't know," Malfoy admitted. "Maybe he could ask Professor Moody if he has any advice? He won't talk to me, cause of my dad."

Hermione stood up. "That's a good idea." She gave a smile at him. "You know, you're not your father, Draco. You're better than him."

"Shut up about my father, Granger," Malfoy said with a growl in his voice. "Don't ruin my good mood." Hermione winced, recognizing she had overstepped her bounds. But she refused to apologize for insulting a man who had done his best to try to kill everyone like her. Instead, she just gave a nod of acknowledgement and walked out of the room.

It was not easy for Hermione to stop advocating for the house elves, but she very reluctantly put it aside for the moment. It wasn't as if SPEW was accomplishing much of anything, anyway. No one was interested, and she clearly didn't need to build up an infrastructure if advocacy organizations already existed. She would just join one, take it over from the inside, and use its resources to help free the house elves. Simple yet elegant. Almost Slytherin really.

It was a secret no one knew about, not even Harry and Ron, but the Sorting Hat had thought she was actually best suited to Slytherin. She had ambition in spades. Cunning not so much, but she had her moments. However, her status as a Muggleborn meant she'd be actively in danger in that house, so it had decided, with great sadness, to put her into Gryffindor instead. The Sorting Hat had lamented to her how far Slytherin's house had fallen. Not even a century prior, blood status had not been the defining trait of Slytherin house. That was not to say blood purism wasn't a thing then, but the purists had been spread out through the houses.

It was a tough thing being a Muggleborn. Everyone saw you as lesser. Even those who thought they were progressive subconsciously thought of you as inferior. Everyone looked down on Muggles, even families like the Weasleys, and it filtered down to Muggleborns. She'd heard the rhetoric before. Oh, they're destroying valuable magical traditions. Forcing us to celebrate their holidays. Forcing us to change the magical world to fit their expectations, to make it like the Muggle one.

It was all fascist bullshit, and Hermione was really aching to say it to people's faces. The Muggleborn had no opportunity to enforce their agenda if they had one, which they didn't. They were completely shut out of the Wizengamot and very few of them got elected to the Folkmoot. There hadn't been a Muggleborn Minister for Magic since the 60s and he was the first and only one. Purebloods and half-bloods dominated the magical world. It was laughable to think they were being persecuted.

Hermione had to calm herself before she started screaming at people. She had to think strategically. She had to focus on other matters. She had to watch where she was going because she'd just collided headfirst with Daphne Greengrass. Wait, what? Oh, crap.

"I'm so sorry, Daphne," Hermione said as she helped the Slytherin off the floor. "I just got completely lost in my own thoughts."

Daphne's eyes lit up. "Say my name again!"

"Daphne?"

Daphne let out a squeak of excitement. "YES! So many years and now it's finally happening!" Well, Hermione could definitely see why this girl, who had to be a transfer student because surely Hermione would have noticed her before otherwise, was best friends with Luna. "It feels so good!"

"Right," Hermione said, backing away slowly.

"You're uncomfortable," Daphne deduced. "And later on, you'll be uncomfortable too. Because you'll remember me."

"Yes?"

Daphne gave a huge grin. "Oh, this is just awesome! Being remembered is the best." She frowned. "I wish I know why it happened. It's all so fuzzy…"

"I have to go…over there…" Hermione said, slipping into a run as soon as she'd reached a respectable distance away. She had a limit on Luna-cy these days and she'd more than reached it with Luna earlier that day. Oh, she really hoped Luna's eccentricity wasn't spreading. The last thing Hermione wanted to do was start ranting about Nargles or whatever ridiculous thing happened to be on Luna's mind.

Daphne offered an apology later on at lunch. She told Hermione that her sister had recently been cured of a potentially debilitating illness, but her father had also recently died, and it had left her feeling quite discombobulated. Hermione gave a polite smile and then quickly changed the subject. She really didn't want to know what was going on in Daphne's life. They were barely even acquaintances. She was Luna's best friend and that was all. In fact, Luna herself was only in Hermione's inner circle because she was Ginny's girlfriend.

Hermione's bad mood didn't really get much better when she realized Ron was absent from lunch, a rare occurrence to be sure. Harry informed her Ron had been suddenly called away, along with the other Weasleys, due to a family matter. Hermione had been worried given how volatile and abusive Mrs. Weasley had become, but Harry assured her Bill had actually been responsible for calling them away. Hermione didn't know much about the oldest Weasley brother other than his occupation. They hadn't chatted much over the summer. But Ron trusted him and that was enough for her.

"So, uh, don't tell anyone I told you yet, but I hear there's going to be a Yule Ball," Malfoy said to Harry. Hermione groaned under her breath. If Malfoy was going to do something soppy and romantic, it was going to put her entirely off eating. "I was wondering –"

Before he could say another word, a peregrine falcon, of all things, came swooping into the hall and left an envelope in front of Harry's head. For some reason, Hermione looked over at Professor Dumbledore to see what his reaction would be, but he appeared too engrossed in conversation with Professor Snape to notice.

Harry looked at the envelope with utter confusion. "It's from Gringotts."

"Seriously? Now?" Malfoy complained. "Right as I was about to –"

"Shush, Malfoy, this could be important," Hermione said. She didn't actually believe it was very important, but anything that delayed the inevitable was good with her. While she was reluctantly ready to accept Harry and Malfoy getting together and conceded the two might actually be good together, it didn't mean she had to like it.

Harry opened the envelope and looked even more confused than before as he read through it. "Take a look at this. Do you think it's legit?"

The letter read:

Hail and well met, Lord Hadrian Jameson Potter-Black-Gryffindor-Emrys!

It has come to our attention that you have not been receiving your quarterly account statements due to the presence of a mail ward at your residence. As one of our most important clients, it is incumbent upon us to rectify this matter as well as a variety of other matters centering around the malfeasance your guardian, Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore. Is it imperative you DO NOT let the chief warlock know about this letter.

We urge you to speak to us as soon as possible – immediately if at all possible – regarding these matters. Time is of the essence. This letter doubles as a Portkey triggered with the word justice.

May your gold be ever flowing,

Griphook, Account Manager for the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter

"I really have no clue," Hermione admitted after reading the letter. "I don't know much about goblins…"

"Is Dumbledore really my guardian now?" Harry worried. "Do you think he got rid of the Dursleys so he could raise me directly?" As tempting as it was to say yes, that theory didn't really make any sense. Knowing what Hermione knew of the Dursleys, they probably would have signed over custody of Harry to Dumbledore in a heartbeat quite willingly with no need for coercion, much less murder.

She passed the letter over to Malfoy. He read through it. "I mean…it could be legit. Unfortunately, I don't really think there's any way to tell unless you actually use the Portkey." A horrified look came on his face. "You're going to do that, aren't you?"

Harry nodded. "Look, they do have a point about the mail ward now that I think about it. I mean, I'm the most famous person in the magical world. But I've never gotten any fan mail. Ever. If that's true, maybe the rest of it is…"

Hermione stood up. "Well, if you're going to take such a horrible risk, I'm going with you. And so is Malfoy, aren't you?" If it was a trap, maybe something would happen to Malfoy. Probably too much to hope for – and for Harry's sake, Hermione would do everything she could to make sure Malfoy was safe – but a girl could dream, couldn't she?

Malfoy grimaced. "I'd love to, but the goblins aren't big fans of my family. Dad's made a lot of enemies at the bank with his comments about how the goblins are subhuman monsters unworthy of even the most basic of human rights."

"Right, let's go before I change my mind."

"Or you could wait?" Malfoy suggested to predictably dead ears.

"This is who Harry is, Malfoy," Hermione said in a somewhat pitying tone. "If there's danger, he's rushing straight into it! You're gonna have an adrenaline junky for a boyfriend."

"HEY!" Hermione was utterly unrepentant. As much as she loved Harry (in a purely platonic fashion obviously), she was not blind to his flaws.

Harry quickly led the two of them to a hallway without portraits, just in case the rumors were true and they reported everyone's actions to the headmaster. Hermione dearly wished Ron was around. He'd have been able to talk his best friend out of this foolhardy move. But Hermione was just going to have to suck it up and if there was a fight to be had, she'd do her best to keep Harry safe.

After activating the Portkey, the two of them found themselves in a preposterously elegant conference room. The whole place was festooned with precious gemstones that were probably worth more than some small countries. The room was decorated in white marble as far as the eye could see. Even the table was marble. Even the queen probably didn't have access to a conference room as elegant as this one.

The good news was rather than the horde of Death Eaters, Hermione had been expecting, there was indeed a single, solitary goblin at the head of the table. The bad news was Harry was looking at him very suspiciously.

"You're not Griphook," Harry said accusingly. "I remember Griphook. He took me to my vault."

"By Frigga, human, do you really think there's only one Griphook out there?" Griphook complained. "Are you the only Harry in the world? I am your account manager. I do not lower myself to drive carts."

Harry looked guilty and chastened, but Hermione was much more skeptical. Someone could have been trying to impersonate Griphook, banking on humans thinking all goblins look alike. They weren't out of the woods yet in her opinion. "I'm sorry…uh, sir?"

"Yes, fine," Griphook said in a surly manner. "I suppose I shouldn't have expected anything less from a human. Sit, sit. There's a lot to go over. I presume the female is your consort?"

"EWW!" Harry shouted, his face contorted in disgust. His face went pale as he realized how that may have sounded to Hermione. Fortunately for him, Hermione completely understood what he was trying to say and took the comment in the spirit in which it was meant. "I mean…"

"It's okay, Harry," Hermione said. She drew herself up in an arrogant, Malfoy style manor. A term she remembered from her studies of medieval history floated to her. "As it happens, I am the seneschal – the steward, Harry – to House Potter. I am not attached to House Potter in any other form."

Griphook made a note on a sheet of paper. "Very well. Now, Lord Potter, we were very concerned by the fact you have not been responding to your account statements, so we decided to contact you in order to –"

"Why now?" Hermione demanded. "Lord Potter is fourteen years old. It seriously took you fourteen years to notice that one of your most important clients, as you wrote in your letter, wasn't getting his mail? Where was your concern when he was abused? If this inattentiveness is the hallmark of the Goblin Nation, why should Lord Potter not take his business elsewhere?"

"Hermione!" Harry hissed, sounding equal parts appalled and impressed.

Griphook placed a bracelet on his wrist and moved it up and down as if he was scanning Hermione for something. A panicked look came on his face. "It is as I thought! She has been compromised." He pressed a button on the bottom of the desk and two burly looking goblin guards came charging in. "Take Seneschal Granger to the cleansing chamber posthaste!"

"Unhand me right this instant!" Hermione shouted as they grabbed her and started to drag her out of the room. "You are manhandling a servitor of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter!"

Harry drew his wand, but Griphook jabbed a needle into his arm and he dropped the wand. "Just a localized anesthetic, young lord," he said soothingly. "Everything will be fine. The seneschal will be returned to you quite soon."

The goblins led her down a short hallway and then Hermione couldn't help but gasp in shock after she was led through the door at the end of it. She wasn't in Gringotts at all! She was in what appeared to be a Muggle warehouse. The hallway and conference room were both fake, nothing more than a set like one created for a movie. The "goblins" deposited her in front of the sneering, even more rat like than usual form of Peter Pettigrew.

The so-called goblins pulled off masks, revealing themselves to be humans, then drew pistols and pointed them at Hermione's head. "You disgusting rat," Hermione spat at Wormtail. "I see this now. This is just an effort to discredit the headmaster on behalf of your true master."

"It…actually is," Wormtail admitted. "I'm surprised you realized that, even if you really have no idea what is truly going on. But then again, Ron always spoke very highly of you." Hermione barely managed to suppress the question of what Ron had said about her; it would have been fruit of the highly poisonous tree. "You ask far too many questions, Hermione. Just like Lily." He gave a somewhat wistful grin. "You remind me of her so much, you know. You're both Muggleborns with a vast intelligence, an indominable spirit, and ambition flowing out of your every pore. She could have changed the world."

"Before you had her killed!" Hermione screamed at him. "HARRY! HARRY, HELP ME!"

The gunmen looked about to fire, but Wormtail put up a hand to forestall them. "There's no use screaming for help. We, of course, took the precaution of casting a silencing spell on the 'conference room.' The Dark Lord is not an amateur, Hermione. He's forgotten more magic than the rest of us will ever know, even in his reduced state."

"You can kill me, but I won't serve Voldemort!" Hermione shouted at him, expecting him to flinch. Instead, Wormtail just smirked, as if he knew something she didn't know.

"Well, then you'll be pleased to know your death is not on the agenda, my dear," Wormtail smarmed. "But you will serve the Dark Lord. And I am pleased to be the instrument of your obedience. Imperio!"

For the second time in her life, a feeling of peace and utter contentment slid into Hermione's brain. She had little success fighting it off, just as had been the case when Moody had put her under the curse and made her do a handstand. She felt warm and blissful. Nothing could bother her or harm her. A soft, insistent voice in her head told her to walk back to the conference room and she obeyed it, because what was the harm, really?

One of the fake guards, who had put his disguise back on, handed a note to "Griphook." Or whoever he was. Hermione didn't care. She didn't care about anything anymore. Nothing could be more important than the bliss inside her brain. "It is as I thought," "Griphook" said with a triumphant smirk. "The seneschal was under a variety of compulsion spells, including one to distrust goblins."

"It's true, Harry," Hermione's lips said quite without the input of her brain. "I'm thinking so much clearer now. I was silly to be suspicious."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "Right. Okay, then. So, Mr. Griphook, what are we here for?"

"Griphook" smirked. A part of Hermione's brain felt dread about what was coming, but it was completely subsumed by the part of her that was floating on a light, fluffy cloud. "Well, the next thing that needs to be done is to run an inheritance test on you, to help free you of any harmful spells that may have been laid upon you by the chief warlock. We merely need a drop of your blood."

Harry looked over to Hermione, who nodded at him. "Okay. If Hermione trusts you, then so do I." Hermione's lips twitched to form a serene smile, entirely without her consent.

Griphook pricked Harry's finger with another needle and placed the drop of blood on a parchment. Lines immediately started filling on it. Hermione would have rolled her eyes if she had the willpower necessary to move a single muscle, because everything that was written down on that parchment was completely ridiculous.

If the parchment was to be believed, Harry was the heir to Gryffindor and Merlin and a host of minor houses. Of course, given that a thousand years had passed, there were probably thousands upon thousands of people, both Muggle and mage, who could be Gryffindor's direct descendants. And Merlin, well, his father was an incubus according to legend. So enough said there. Heck, Hermione probably had just as good a claim to being the heir as Harry did.

Then there was the alleged blocking of Harry's magical core. Well, his alleged magical core, because magical cores went out of style as a scientific theory after the war against Grindelwald. Like his Muggle allies the Nazis, Grindelwald held to a philosophy of magical eugenics, in his case based on the size of one's magical core rather than blood status. And like the Nazis, he did some hideous things in the service of that belief. Even Voldemort didn't bother touching the theory of magical cores during his rise to power. It was that tainted.

In any event, even Grindelwald and his ilk would have considered it impossible to block a magical core. Magic simply is a part of one. It cannot be added onto nor removed. And if that was impossible, then it was extra impossible for specific skills, like Occlumency and wandless magic to be blocked. How would that even worked? Yet that was what the parchment said had happened to Harry. If the parchment was to be believed, then he should have been the most powerful wizard in the world.

The parchment identified Dumbledore as being the one to block Harry's magical core, which made no sense. Why would he do that? Even if one was to assume he had nefarious motives, which was preposterous, what would they even be? If it was to prevent Harry from becoming more powerful than him…why not just kill him?

Then there was the part of the inheritance test that said Draco was Harry's soulmate. Unfortunately, Harry latched onto that very quickly. "So that's why I care so much about him," he said with that lovestruck grin Hermione would have hated if she had anything in her brain but complete and utter euphoria. "We were always meant to be!"

Yes, Harry, that's why he spent two years making your life a living hell, the snarky part of her brain that not even the Imperius Curse could block chimed off, but it quickly floated away on that pink fluffy cloud of perfect bliss Hermione was lying on. Soulmates, absolutely preposterous. It was something out of one of those romance novels Lavender loved so much, with no scientific or magical basis in any way whatsoever.

"Compulsion spells? Loyalty potions?" Harry said, frowning as he pointed at a portion of the parchment that said he had been put under so many compulsion spells and mind altering potions he should have been a drooling, gibbering wreck. "This says I've been controlled into being loyal to Ron and Hermione? I refuse to believe that! Ron and Hermione are my friends. They've been here for me through thick and thin!"

"Well, of course Miss Granger is your friend now that she has been cleansed," "Griphook" said quickly. "An ingenious double bluff to have both of you keyed to be loyal to one another." That's complete gibberish!

"I'm so glad I'm free now, Harry," came out of Hermione's mouth.

Harry poked at the parchment, a furious expression on his face. "No. Ron is my friend. You're saying he's been potioning me. That's absurd."

"My dear Mr. Potter…Lord Potter…that's exactly what he wants you to think. Think about it. All he's done is drag you down. Lazy. Gluttonous. Tactless." Yes, because he's a bloody teenage boy! Oh my God. "What has he truly ever done for you? Remember when you first met? How he claimed every compartment was full? What are the odds of that?"

You idiot! How would he even know what happened on the train? I don't know what happened on the train. Harry shook his head. "No. That's mad. You sound like my bloody uncle with his stupid conspiracy theories."

"Molly Weasley had already sent five children to Hogwarts – why would she have been asking her children where the platform was?" "Griphook" said, leaning forward, his eyes shining brightly with a sadistic mirth. "She was yelling at the top of her lungs about Muggles. A clear violation of the Statute!"

"Look, King's Cross is bloody confusing. It's easy to get lost. And what are you talking about, yelling? She was talking at a normal volume. Hell, I've probably violated the Statute then if that's your qualification." He stood up. "Mr. Griphook, there appears to have been some misunderstanding here. In fact, I'm not all that unconvinced this isn't some elaborate scam."

"Griphook" reached under the table where Hermione, but not Harry, could see a wand was taped to the table. But then he stopped. "I was afraid you'd say that. That's why I took the liberty of getting photographic evidence."

"I think we should hear him out, Harry," Hermione's mouth said. "Please? For me?" She…oh, God she was actually batting her eyelashes. At Harry. It was so disgusting that some of the fog in her brain started clearing and she almost managed to say something, only for it to return a second later.

Harry sat back down again. "Griphook" spread a series of photographs on the table. And they…well, they looked quite genuine, terrifyingly enough. Ron sneaking out of the dormitory. Ron sneaking into the headmaster's office at the middle of the night. Ron kneeling before Dumbledore. Surely they could have been faked. But Hermione wasn't quite sure how. Was it possible Ron had somehow betrayed them?

No…it couldn't be…right?

"This isn't…this isn't possible," Harry muttered. "I've trusted him with so much. And he's been reporting to Dumbledore the whole time? How? Why?"

Griphook pressed his advantage. "He's been dosing you with loyalty potions. He and his mother have been stealing money from your vaults…"

"Uh, how?" Harry said. "He's a minor."

"Of course, our investigation continues and it's too premature to make any conclusions right now," "Griphook" said hurriedly. Even he must have realized he was taking things a bit too far. "It's important you know how deeply you've been manipulated, Lord Potter. But far worse is the Horcrux."

Harry looked at the warning at the bottom that there was a Horcrux, whatever that was, lodged inside his skull. "What's a Horcrux?"

"Only the darkest and most vile of magics," "Griphook" intoned solemnly. "It is an affront to all right thinking beings everywhere, and especially reviled by the Goblin Nation. It is a piece of one's soul. In this case Voldemort's."

Harry's mouth dropped open in shock an astonishment. Hermione's did too. Though it had not occurred through her own volition, it likely would have happened anyway. Assuming that the existence of Horcruxes was not just as much of a lie as the rest of the matters mentioned, it did explain a great deal. It explained how Voldemort had survived his discorporation. It explained why Harry kept on getting visions of him. It explained why his scar hurt in close proximity to him.

"I have a piece of him in my head?!" Harry screamed. "GET IT OUT OF ME! I want it out NOW!" He looked absolutely frantic and horrified. He started scratching at his forehead as if he could dig it out with his bare hands.

"Griphook" smirked. "Well, of course, Lord Potter. As it happens, we have a ritual for getting rid of a Horcrux in a living being." Of course they do. Convenient, isn't it? "Your seneschal will remain here while you are cleansed. Rest assured, no harm will come to her." He nodded at a guard, who gave him a blindfold. "No human may see into our inner sanctum and thus you must wear this blindfold." Harry snatched the blindfold out of "Griphook's" hands and ran out of the room so quickly Hermione could barely see him move. A clanging sound was heard in the distance as he ran into something. "Griphook" rolled his eyes and directed the guards out of the room.

"Griphook" grabbed the wand and lifted the Imperius Curse. Hermione pretended to be dazed for a few seconds and then suddenly leapt at "Griphook," who managed to get his wand up and wordlessly tied her to her chair just in time. "You disgusting piece of shit," Hermione snarled. "You're not going to get away with hurting Harry!"

"Griphook" leaned back in his chair and studied Hermione carefully. "You're a fascinating individual, Miss Granger," he said. "Such a strong will. Not strong enough, but we can't all be Harry Potter, now can we? Such bold ideas. I could see you tearing my arguments to shreds in your mind."

Hermione spat in his face. "Go to hell!"

"I can see you're not in the mood to be cooperative," "Griphook" said in a chiding tone. "A pity. But we will see if that changes in the future. Great changes are coming to the wizarding world, my dear child. Wizards will either adapt or be swept away by the tide of history. A tide I will soon command. I sincerely hope you will stand by my side as I bring forth an age in which magic will be ascendant."

"What do you mean by that?" Hermione asked. If "Griphook" wanted to monologue, who was she to deny him?

Griphook smirked. "I could tell you the whole plan – if I was a moron. But since I am not, I say this to you: Obliviate!" And everything went blank.

If Ron was going to have to spend any more time with his mother, he was seriously considering strangling someone, possibly himself. Mum was…well, she was really a caricature of herself by now. She had no volume control whatsoever. She shouted things at the top of her lungs. She went on rants about how the Slytherins were subhuman vermin who should be exterminated. She kept on going on and on about how the Weasley family would be at the top of the heap once Harry did his duty and sacrificed himself for the greater good. Ron really wanted to send her to St. Mungo's, but instead, they were going to Gringotts, because Bill assured him he had arranged for a goblin healer to look at her, and he didn't trust the people at St. Mungo's to not report back to Dumbledore.

They'd lured Mum to the bank with the lie they had inherited a substantial amount of money from a distant cousin. Unfortunately, it meant that not only Ron had to subject himself to Mum's insanity, but also Ginny, Fred, and George. Dad was apparently ill and Mum claimed she was acting as his proxy.

"…and once the Light ascends to its rightful place in society, we'll have perverts and degenerates like the Malfoy boy flayed alive," Mum ranted and raved as they climbed the steps of Gringotts. "All will love us and despair!"

"Yes, Mum," Ginny said as she squeezed Ron's hand tightly, a desperate look in her eyes as she pleaded nonverbally for Ron to save her. "And Harry and I will have, like, twelve babies." They'd been claiming to Mum Ginny and Harry were going out now and Harry's infatuation with Malfoy had been the result of a love potion. Because apparently it was okay for the Weasleys to do it but not for the Malfoys.

Bill led them past the lobby extremely quickly, far too quickly for Mum to say any abusive words in the direction of the tellers, and into a conference room. Like all of the Gringotts conference rooms, it was austere, bland, and boring. Bill said it was modeled after Muggle offices. Ron pitied the Muggles if that was the case.

"Mrs. Weasley, one of the provisos of the will is that you be in sound mind and health," the goblin at the front of the table, a friend of Bill's named…something extremely long that Ron didn't have a prayer of pronouncing, much less remembering. He'd call him Biff for short, Ron decided. "We therefore require you to be examined by one of our healers before inheriting the money."

"NONSENSE!" Mum thundered so loud Ron could practically sense his eardrums screaming in agony. "I'M THE PICTURE OF PERFECT MENTAL HEALTH!"

There was dead silence for ten seconds. "Well, in that case, the examination will be quite swift. It is an awful amount of money you've inherited, Mrs. Weasley. At least twice as much as that lottery you won last year."

Pride and greed fought inside Mum's head and greed must have won out, because she allowed the goblins to drag her off. "Now we just have to wait," Bill said. "It'll…probably be several hours. Maybe longer."

"I hope they find something," Ginny muttered. "I mean…not that I want Mum to be compromised, but…"

"No, I get it," Ron said softly. As appalling as the thought was, it was nothing compared to the possibility Mum was doing all those horrid things of her own free will.

The afternoon seemed to drag on endlessly, especially with Ron's fear of what they might be discovering. On the bright side, the more time that went on, the less likely it was that there wasn't any tampering at all. But then the issue of just how much damage had been done and if it could ever be fixed entered the fray. Ron desperately, fervently wished Hermione was there. She'd probably be filled with all sorts of useful, reassuring facts. Or at least provided enough of a distraction so he wasn't so incredibly worried. Ginny tried her best to distract everyone with tales of her times with Luna and Bill talked about his job as much as he could (which wasn't much), but Ron was still a bundle of nerves when the goblins finally brought Mum back in.

She was crying and trembling, an absolutely haunted look in her eyes. Something had broken, truly and thoroughly within her. "I…Ronald, I'm so, so sorry," she whispered. Ron stared back at her defiantly and said nothing. It was going to take a lot more than some nice words to heal the holes Mum had repeatedly carved into his heart, no matter how sincere they were.

Bill was much more sympathetic. He quickly conjured a sofa and led Mum over to it. She was shaking the whole way. "It's okay, it's…it's gonna be fine, Mum."

"No, it isn't," Mum snapped. "It's not…it will never be fine again."

A female goblin cleared her throat. At least, Ron was reasonably certain she was female. "Our results were profoundly disturbing. She has been hit with a rather unique mélange of compulsion charms which should have rendered her a gibbering, drooling mess. But somehow, the caster managed to get them to overlay in just the precise way to augment her worst personality traits by a hundred fold."

"Dear Ginevra, dear Ginny," Mum called out to Ginny, who flinched, but said nothing. "Please forgive me. I never would have said those awful things to you if I were in my right mind. I'm so ashamed of myself…I can't…I should have resisted. I should have fought harder."

"Given that your brain would have fractured like an eggshell if you did, it is perhaps for the best that you did not," the healer said in a matter of fact tone. "Untangling the various threads was time consuming and difficult. Even now, I cannot guarantee some form of brain damage does not exist."

"I'll do anything to get your forgiveness," Mum said, getting on her knees before Ginny. "Anything at all!"

Ginny looked torn between accepting and continuing to refrain from accepting out of sheer spite. Ron knew because he felt the same way. Even now, even knowing Mum had been controlled, Ron couldn't help but feel revulsion and disgust just looking at the woman who'd terrorized her own child. "I have a girlfriend now," she said softly. "Luna is my girlfriend."

Mum smiled fondly. "Xeno's little girl? Oh, how lovely. I'm sure you two make such a cute couple." A sob threatened to erupt from Ginny's throat. "Ginny, I…please try to see this from my perspective. I haven't had any control over my actions since May. I've just been…watching. Like an observer. Unable to stop myself."

"That is an accurate description of what it would have been like to be under those spells," the healer confirmed. "Miss Weasley, as much as you do not wish to conclude this, I agree with Mrs. Weasley's assertion she was not responsible for her actions."

Mum sat back down on the sofa, looking utterly drained. "That's where you're wrong. It is my fault. I should have been smarter. I shouldn't have trusted Albus."

"He did this to you?!" Ron shouted. As suspicious as Dumbledore had been acting recently, he would never imagine he could do such a despicable action. And why would he do it anyway? It seemed rather like overkill just for one housewife. Why not just put her under the Imperius curse?

"Well, I'm just guessing," Mum admitted. "I don't see how anyone else would have the power to do it. Except You Know Who, of course, but I would hardly see why he'd do that, much less how."

The healer frowned. "That's a reasonable supposition, though, of course, not confirmable. Some of these patterns are very rare. They haven't been seen since the days of Grindelwald. It harkens back to the dark days of Grindelwald's conquest. He loved to subvert people mentally, even more than Voldemort." Everyone but Ginny flinched at that name, even Ron. "At any rate, this concludes our business. The Goblin Nation remains scrupulously neutral in everything, especially regarding leading political figures in the magical world. We would not even have done this procedure if there was definitive proof Dumbledore is involved – which I caution you there is still not."

"What if someone is blackmailing him?" Bill suggested desperately. No one, least of all the Weasleys, wanted to admit that the man they all were unquestioningly loyal to could do something so despicable to the family.

"Did you not hear me?" the healer snapped. "You are dismissed!" Everyone sheepishly trudged out of the bank.

Ron looked Mum in the face. "It's going to take a lot of time before I can forgive you. Even if I know it wasn't your fault here," he pointed to his head. "I still feel it here." He pointed at his heart.

"Same here. I just…you've been so awful…your Howlers haunted my nightmares." Mum looked at the ground, shame all over her face.

"What are we going to do now?" Bill wondered. "If Dumbledore gets word you've been fixed up…"

Mum gave a sudden, terrifyingly feral grin that was extraordinarily reminiscent of the twins in their most vengeful and scary moments. "Oh, he's not going to find out. He's going to keep thinking I'm his loyal, devoted servant. Right up until the point I get revenge."

Peter Pettigrew was not the man everyone thought he was. He was not a sniveling coward, loyal only to himself. No, Peter was zealously, utterly devoted to his master. The Dark Lord. The true Dark Lord, not the idiot he was currently working on bringing back to life. Peter had been a loyal servant of the Dark Lord even before he dropped the mask he had been hiding behind. The mask of Albus Dumbledore, benign leader of the light. Peter had seen the man beneath the mask and with one look, he was hooked. The Dark Lord was the future of the magical world. He would lead them into a golden age of tranquility and peace. True, some would have to suffer like poor Lily and James, but it was for the greater good. It would always be for the greater good.

It was at the behest of the Dark Lord Peter had betrayed his friends. They'd see the utopia he was building from heaven above and thank him one day when they'd realized the Dark Lord had constructed a heaven below as well. Peter felt no guilt or remorse. Not when he realized Voldemort was going after baby Harry. Not when Voldemort killed two of the best people to ever walk the face of the Earth. Not when he, at the Dark Lord's command, killed all those Muggles and framed Sirius.

Peter had, it had to be said, been a bit miffed when the Dark Lord commanded him to lie in wait in his rat form at the Weasleys, especially when no further commands came until Percy arrived at Hogwarts, and even then, the only command he got was to keep waiting. But he was patient and endlessly devoted and in Ron's third year, the command to escape and bring forth Voldemort's resurrection finally came.

And now, after all those years, the Dark Lord was able to finish the work he had started during the First Wizarding War until he was rudely interrupted by Harry Potter. Now the Statute of Secrecy would fall and mages would rule the world as gods. Peter would have the power and status he had always craved.

"The procedure worked precisely as planned, master," Peter simpered, bowing low before the ersatz Griphook, who removed a glamour and returned to the form of the mask the Dark Lord wore. "The horcrux was removed from Potter's scar, Granger was Confunded into believing our lies were all true, and the idiots are none the wiser." In time, the Muggle mercenaries he'd hired would be killed and the set burned to the ground. "But I must ask…why give up your spy? Without Weasley, how will you be apprised of Potter's actions?"

"Sometimes in chess, Peter, you must give up a piece to win a game," the Dark Lord said sagely. "Potter is not acting as I wish him to. Rather than forcing him in a certain direction, I have decided to focus my efforts on more fruitful endeavors. Only a fool has only one path to victory and although I am many things, Peter, I am not a fool. This pathway will be a much more fruitful one."

The Dark Lord took the crystal the horcrux had been forced into in his hands and studied it, his luminous blue eyes twinkling particularly brightly. "Now that one of Voldemort's Horcruxes is finally in my hands, when he rises again, he will have no choice but to do exactly what I say."