Chapter 6. The House Most Desirable
In the basement kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, Harry sat in front of the blazing fireplace, staring into the burning wood on the grate. Picking up the poker, he carefully moved the large chunks of wood from one side to the other, checking to see if a familiar face had appeared among them.
"How long are you going to stare at that fireplace, dear?" asked Ginny. She handed Harry a newspaper and a bundle of letters in her arms as her husband turned around.
"No letter from Hermione yet?" Harry asked after confirming that all the letters were either flyers or his fan letters.
Ginny shook her head and sat down across from him at the long wooden table. "That's why you keep looking at the grate, isn't it? In case she shows up and tells us something?"
"Yeah, but I don't think she's in a position to answer right now," said Harry. "Hermione's not home, and even Ron has no idea where she is. At this point, it's best to wait until there's more news about her in the Daily Prophet and letters. . . ."
Despite his reluctance, Harry flattened the rolled-up newspaper and read the front page. The article was topped by a picture of Hermione on the podium, looking restless and surrounded by angry goblins.
An Ambitious Announcement by the Minister of Magic Ends in Disaster
On Friday, Minister of Magic Hermione Granger drew enthusiastic cheers from her supporters when she announced that England would host the upcoming Quidditch World Cup. This unexpected statement suggested that the Minister was planning to run for re-election in the next polls, given her usual comments about considering decades-long effects when making policy changes. As it turned out, the Minister was incapable of seeing five minutes ahead, let alone decades. The Gringotts goblins who broke into the Grand Meeting Room revealed that the Ministry's vault was empty, with no gold to pay the salaries of its employees, let alone host the Quidditch World Cup.
As a result of the incident, the Minister immediately announced a moratorium and shutdown of the Ministry of Magic, and has since refused to comment on the matter. Most of the Ministry's employees are currently on indefinite unpaid leave, making it difficult for them to earn a living . . . (For a full account of Madam Granger's alarmingly poor performance in Hogwarts Divination class, turn to page 12.)
As Harry finished reading, he took a deep breath and tried his best not to throw the newspapers into the fireplace. While he had expected to find many condemning articles, it was even worse to see them in person. Harry had done his part to ruin Hermione's flawless plan, which made him feel even more miserable. This incident might not have happened if he had not been obsessed with Eisenbein and instead focused on watching Diagon Alley, where a kidnapping had just recently occurred.
"Harry, don't be too hard on yourself," said Ginny softly, as though she had read Harry's mind. "This would've happened if someone else had been in your place. Gringott's goblins were very reluctant to entrust the security of the bank to the Ministry of Magic; it's possible that their unsupportive behavior created loopholes. Also, we're still not sure exactly how the situation came about. . . . Perhaps the goblins are blaming us for their own mistakes."
"Thanks, Ginny. That's comforting," Harry said, giving her a weak smile. The Potters were silently watching the fireplace for any news when a loud noise like a bursting firecracker rang out from the hallway above. As Harry turned, a tiny creature with a snow-white towel draped over its body walked into the kitchen.
Kreacher, the house-elf who belonged to this house and the Potters, bowed deeply and announced to Harry, "Master Harry, Kreacher has returned.
"Welcome back, Kreacher," said Harry. "Is there any news? I mean — about the Gringotts incident."
The elf approached Harry and Ginny and nodded.
"Master said he wanted to know what happened to Gringotts Wizarding Bank, so Kreacher has been visiting the house-elves of other families to gather rumors . . ." Kreacher looked around to make sure no one else was listening and whispered, "Kreacher doesn't know many details, Master Harry, but they say Muggles were involved in this crime."
"But how could they? Even some of the most powerful wizards wouldn't dare rob Gringotts," said Ginny, looking confused.
"Kreacher, what's the basis of this rumor? Have you heard anything?" asked Harry.
Kreacher continued in his bullfrog voice, "Kreacher heard it from a house-elf whose master works at Gringotts — the goblins have identified those who stole gold from the Ministry, but Kreacher has heard that their faces are unknown to us . . ."
"If at least their faces have been identified, does that mean the culprits didn't break into the vault secretly?" asked Harry. A dark expression appeared on Kreacher's face as he nodded.
"Master is right. Muggles have repeatedly taken money from the bank and put it back by asking the goblins at the counters. Kreacher doesn't know how, but after many such attempts, not a single Knut was left in the Ministry vault."
Harry searched for answers to this strange case, but found none. His first thought was to visit Gringotts bank himself, or perhaps even meet Bill Weasley, one of its employees, to find out exactly what had happened. However, the media would probably accuse Hermione of incompetence if he intervened in such a political crisis. Besides, it was hard for him to instruct his subordinates, who were on unpaid leave, to find out what was going on.
"So, Master Harry, what should Kreacher serve for dinner tonight? Would Master prefer the steak and kidney pie for the main course, followed by the treacle tart for dessert that Master and his children are so partial to?"
Harry snapped out of his deep thoughts when he heard this. "Dinner, Kreacher? But we haven't even had lunch yet . . ."
"Good gracious, dear!" Ginny slapped Harry's arm. "Easter vacation starts today! Have you forgotten our children are coming home? That's why I took the day off to be with you."
"Mistress Ginny is right, Master . . . Kreacher went shopping in Diagon Alley yesterday and spent all day to feed Master's children!"
The elf snapped his finger and meat, vegetables and bread appeared on the table, piled high on top of each other. Harry felt a pang of shame. It had slipped his mind that James, Albus and Lily were returning home today in the midst of his efforts to contact Hermione or find out what had happened to Gringotts.
"Well, I didn't forget — I just couldn't remember for a moment," said Harry vaguely.
"Doesn't that mean you forgot?" Ginny said, crossing her arms and frowning. Every time she did that, Harry thought that Molly Weasley would have looked a lot like her if she had been a lot thinner. "Then remember this? Scorpius Malfoy is also coming today — his father sent us a letter last week."
"That's very good indeed," said Harry. "Albus would certainly enjoy having a Slytherin friend in our house."
Ginny sat down and made eye contact with Harry with a more serious expression on her face. "Starting tomorrow, Teddy will be here as well, Harry. . . . We're going to need a new bedroom to accommodate so many people."
"Is that really necessary? James can sleep with Albus and give Teddy his room as before."
"And where will Scorpius sleep? Our family and the Malfoys have had an unhappy relationship for decades and we're finally getting along. Besides, someone will have to sleep in the kitchen when Victoire and Ron's children come to visit," said Ginny pleadingly. "If there's anything you've been thinking about and haven't been able to put into action, now's the time."
Without a word, Harry turned his eyes to the fireplace. It suddenly dawned on him that Hermione's was not the only face he wanted to see in the blazing fire.
"I need some time to think. I'll go upstairs in the afternoon to collect my thoughts."
It hadn't changed much since Harry had first visited Sirius Black's bedroom on the top floor over two decades ago. Due to the numerous posters and photographs hanging on the walls, it was difficult to see the original silvery-gray silk of the walls. The room had a large bed with elaborate patterns, a huge wooden wardrobe opposite it, and a chandelier with dirty, burnt candle stumps above it. The room was dark, even though the sun was shining outside, for a thick velvet curtain was blocking the tall window. To let in more light, Harry pulled back the curtains and walked over to Sirius's bed to sit down.
Whenever Harry was upset or had something serious on his mind, he would sit alone in this room ever since he moved into this house twenty years ago. It was in this room that he had decided to marry Ginny, and it was in this room that he had spent time alone when his relationship with Albus, the only Slytherin in his family, had become estranged. It had been a long time since Harry's godfather had vanished behind the veil; he never came back, but in this room he felt like Sirius was sitting right next to him. During his time in the room, his mind was calm, clear and focused: almost as if his godfather had come back to life and was giving him advice. And Harry went into the godfather's bedroom that afternoon, perhaps for the last time, to consider whether it was time to let Sirius go.
Losing the Cloak of Invisibility had caused many depressing days, but none as depressing as today. He felt as if part of his heart had to be ripped out. He sat on the soft bed as the sun shone through a partially,exposed window, warming the room. An entire wall was covered with several faded Gryffindor banners, with a large golden lion standing and roaring in the scarlet background, and he studied them carefully. A rebellious Griffindor child, raised in a household full of Slytherins — this lonely boy had found happiness in finding refuge in school and friends, rather than in his home and family. Harry realized how similar his childhood had been to Sirius Black's.
Having made his decision, Harry sat still for a long time before getting up, until the sun set and darkness returned. Opening the door, Harry was surprised to see Kreacher sitting on the landing. Through the slightly open door behind the slouching house-elf, Harry could see a room that had remained untouched for decades after the death of its previous owner. Unlike his older brother's room, Regulus Black's was decorated in the green and silver that symbolized Slytherin House.
"Master Harry, Kreacher understood what Mistress Ginny was asking for in the kitchen. . . . So Kreacher came here with the same concerns as his Master," the elf staggered and stood up as he spoke. Regulus's locket, given to him by Harry a long time ago, bounced weakly on the white towel wrapped around his skinny body. "Kreacher knows why Master Harry and Mistress Ginny leave this place untouched. Whenever Kreacher thinks of Master Regulus, he comes into this room and sits down, and Master knows that Kreacher still cherishes his old master. For Kreacher's sake, Master Harry has left Master Regulus's old room without saying anything, even when there are not enough bedrooms for guests. Kreacher is an awful elf, Master. . . . A foul and shameful elf, indeed!"
"Don't blame yourself, Kreacher. I left Sirius's bedroom just the way it was, and I'd sit in it whenever I remembered him, just like you . . ." Harry sat down on one knee, eye level with the elf. The tennis ball sized eyes were watery.
"Kreacher has made his decision . . . to clean this bedroom for the next person to use. As long as Kreacher lives, Master Regulus will always be dear to him, but now he serves Master Harry. Master Harry is the defender of the house-elves and the kindest of wizards. The time has come for Kreacher to say goodbye to his brave Master Regulus . . ." Kreacher struggled to speak, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Harry went over and embraced the elf. "Kreacher, I made the same decision. It's time to let Sirius go."
Streams of tears flowed from Kreacher's face onto Harry's shoulder, making his clothes damp and warm. Harry realized he was crying as well when he felt a similar sensation on his cheek.
As the Potters returned home from King's Cross Station with their children, the smell of freshly baked pies aroused their appetites.
"Wow! Isn't that the treacle tart? That's my favorite!" James shouted as he ran into the kitchen.
"You pig, leave mine be!" yelled Lily as she followed him with Ginny.
Left behind, Harry, Albus and Scorpius walked more leisurely toward the basement kitchen. A chandelier overhead and gas lamps hanging on the wall cast a warm glow down the hallway.
"This place is lively. It would be nice to have more people in our house like this, Mr. Potter," Scorpius said, admiring the bright, clean passage, free of the decay of the past.
"You'll change your mind once more guests arrive," Harry said with a smile. "The noise is unbearable when Teddy and James are together. . . ."
Scorpius Malfoy's gentle and polite manner struck Harry as somewhat awkward, as cynicism and rudeness would seem more appropriate on his young face. The boy's pale, pointed face and sleek, white-blond hair resembled that of Draco Malfoy, Harry's childhood nemesis, in all but a softer impression. Every time Harry saw Scorpius, he felt a strange feeling at his familiar appearance and unfamiliar personality — he was a bookworm of a kind and shy nature, a stark contrast to his childhood father, who had ridiculed and bullied Harry and his friends at every opportunity.
"Wow, an umbrella stand made out of a troll's leg? Cool!" Scorpius said just before entering the kitchen. "But Albus, why does this side of the wall seem hollow?"
"Ah, for removing a portrait . . . I heard there was a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of the canvas, so part of the wall had to be torn down," Albus explained, then turned to Harry, frowning. "But what was wrong with the portrait, Dad?
"Well, you'll find out soon enough," Harry told the boys as their curious eyes focused on him. "Let's go upstairs together after dinner — we have some work to do."
Everyone enjoyed the welcome feast. Scorpius was treated with particular kindness by Kreacher, perhaps because his now deceased grandmother, Narcissa Malfoy, had once been a member of the Black family.
"Would you like some more pies, Master Scorpius?" Kreacher asked, placing the pies on top of a mountain of juicy steaks before Scorpius could answer.
"Thank you, Kreacher," Scorpius muttered, his mouth full of hamburger.
"If you keep gaining weight at this rate, your father may not recognize you," Albus said, and the rest of the family laughed together.
"I wish we had a house-elf too — cooking was never my father's strong point," said Scorpius regretfully. His mother, Astoria Malfoy, had died of an illness a few years ago, leaving him to live with his father at Malfoy Manor.
"I actually do most of the cooking, and the Malfoys used to have a house-elf. His name was Dobby, and he was very close to me," Harry recalled. With this mention, the topic of the dinner turned to the history between Harry and Dobby. Upon hearing that the poor elf had died from a silver knife thrown by Bellatrix Lestrange, the tender-hearted Scorpius shed tears.
"Bad lady, Miss Bellatrix. . . . She treated Kreacher well as a child," Kreacher also wiped away his tears and muttered in his bullfrog's voice. "It was that accursed Dark Lord who infected her with his vile nature!"
"Well said, Kreacher — it's very important to us who we get along with," Harry said, smiling at Albus and Scorpius in turn. "With that in mind, my son, it looks like you have a great friend."
The pale face of Scorpius turned slightly pink as he replied, "I do indeed appreciate your kind words, Mr. Potter."
Harry was the first to stand up after everyone had drunk butterbeer served with custard tarts. "Albus, Scorpius, come with me. Like I said, I have something to do with you today."
Yawning, James asked his father sleepily, "What is it, Dad?"
"To give Albus a new room," Harry said, and James's drowsy eyes opened wide in an instant.
"What? What about me, then?"
"You and Albus will move into the two rooms on the top floor," said Harry patiently. "They will be much larger and more comfortable than your original ones. Then Lily can move into James's old room, and the remaining bedrooms will be converted into spare bedrooms for visitors."
"That would be great, Dad!" Lily cheered, throwing her arms up in excitement.
"Your father and Kreacher have been cleaning the upstairs room for you all afternoon," said Ginny. "And what's the magic word, children?"
"Thanks, Dad!" shouted James, Albus and Lily at the same time.
"Then we'll go upstairs and finish cleaning up," said Harry. "Move your things when it's convenient for you, James. And Kreacher, have you said your final goodbyes?"
"Yes, Master Harry," Kreacher replied, somewhat sadly.
Leaving the restaurant, Harry led Albus and Scorpius up the stairs. "What do you mean by the final goodbyes?" asked Albus curiously.
"I've wanted to get rid of a portrait for a long time, but Kreacher was attached to it, so I kept it until now," said Harry. "The time has finally come to remove the thing. . . . But first we have to find something."
Harry's first stop before climbing the stairs to the top landing was the third floor storeroom. The uncarpeted floor creaked as he opened the door and stepped inside, and there was a smell of foul, musty air. When he turned on a gas lamp on the ceiling, the dim light revealed old furniture and broken playthings stacked against the dull gray walls.
"The next step is to find three earmuffs," Harry told the boys. "There's something under the ceiling over there — let's have a look."
He was unable to find anything useful under the moldy blanket, however. Scorpius and Albus also spread out to help with his search, putting away old textbooks and rummaging through crates of toys. Harry was putting aside the old Black family books that promoted pure-blood supremacy when Albus opened a tarnished silver box and examined the bottle inside.
"What do you think this is, Dad?" asked Albus. He was holding a dusty crystal bottle with a large opal set on top, filled with a thick crimson liquid. "Could this be blood?" A look of disgust crossed Albus's face and he wrinkled his nose.
"Yes, I think so — I remember seeing it before," said Harry thoughtfully. "We found that crystal bottle when I was cleaning this house with the Weasleys a long time ago. . . . We were about to throw it away, but then it occurred to Molly that it might contain some unknown curse, so it ended up being here."
"Hand it over, Albus." Scorpius took the bottle and examined the elaborate pattern. "A pattern like that was used by medieval vampires. An ancient ancestor of the Blacks may have taken this from them."
"Really — ruddy vampires?" Albus frowned at the blood-filled bottle even more disgustedly than before. "But how do you know that?"
"Well, my grandmother used to tell me stories about the history of the Blacks. She was part of the Black family tree as well, remember?" Placing the crystal bottle back in the silver box, Scorpius shrugged. "There were several famous vampire hunters from the Black family a long time ago, I've heard. One of them was said to have killed the infamous Vampire Squib, and this bottle was probably plundered at the time — a souvenir of sorts, I suppose."
"The Vampire Squib? Does that bottle hold the children's blood that he drained, you mean?" Albus retreated from the chest in horror. "That vampire must have given me dozens of nightmares! Kreacher would tell me of his horrors when I had trouble sleeping . . ."
"Yeah, I remember," said Harry. It made him smile to recall the younger Albus coming into their bedroom crying and wiping away his tears. "That's why I told Kreacher not to tell you scary stories before bedtime. . . ."
The silver box was tightly sealed and moved further down the shelf than it should have been, and the search continued. With a rattling sound, Albus opened a sack and discovered a better yield.
"Dad, I found some gold coins!" Indeed, a pair of glittering Galleons lay on the palm Albus had just taken out of the sack. "Can I keep them, please?"
"But why are there gold coins? Let me see . . ." Harry took one and brought the Galleon into the light. At first, the gold coin looked genuine, but upon closer inspection, the serial number engraved around its edge revealed the truth. "Aha! It's one of the fake Galleons from Dumbledore's Army. We used to send messages to each other on them . . ." Harry smiled, held the gold coin up to his face and whispered the numbers. "Now take a good look at your coin, Albus."
"Wow, the numbers are changing!" cried Albus, carefully inspecting the other gold coin in his hand, but then a sudden wave of his hand caused him to drop the Galleon. "Ouch! It got very hot!"
"That's how we communicated. To inform our members of the change in meeting time, we heated the coin and let them know." Harry quickly waved the gold coin several times, releasing the heat from the surface. "This pair of coins was once used by your mother and me, and they must have made their way up here somehow. . . ."
"Dad, can we have the fake Galleons?" Albus asked, picking up the gold coin that had fallen to the floor. "I reckon they'd be useful for keeping in touch with Scorpius."
"Sure — it'd be better than letting them rot here."
As Harry handed Scorpius his gold coin, he examined it carefully. "It seems to have a Protean Charm on it, which is quite a sophisticated enchantment. After all, you've been a genius since childhood, Mr. Potter."
"Actually, it was Hermione who came up with that," Harry said, waving his hand in denial. "You might become a Minister of Magic like her if you study as hard as she did."
They eventually found the three earmuffs in the moldy bag, along with Harry and Ginny's old Quidditch robes and an old Golden Snitch, and headed upstairs. Harry had Albus and Scorpius put on the earmuffs and then entered Regulus Black's old bedroom. There was an ominous square object leaning against the wall behind the canopy bed in the middle. It gave the dark room a gloomy, temple-like feel because of the life-size portrait that looked like an object of insidious worship, the cut-out wall still attached to the back of its frame.
"Is this my new bedroom? I'm going to have nightmares if I sleep here," Albus said, looking annoyed. With a wave of his wand, Harry lit the candles in the chandelier, revealing the Slytherin banners hanging on the walls.
"The Slytherin coats of arms at the Potters'! That's fantastic, Mr. Potter!" exclaimed Scorpius in awe.
"This room used to belong to a Slytherin," Harry said. "His name was Regulus Black, and he was one of the noblest people I've ever known. . . . Well, the air in this room will be much improved once this ugly picture is removed."
Approaching slowly, Harry pointed his wand at the pair of long, moth-eaten curtains covering the portrait and tore them apart. Behind them, a drooling old woman in a black cap opened her mouth wide and let out a horrible, bloodcurdling scream.
"FILTH! VILE SCUMS! HALF-BREEDS, MUDBLOODS, ANIMALS — LEAVE THIS PLACE AT ONCE! HOW DARE YOU DISGRACE THE HOUSE WHERE MY ANCESTORS LIVED —"
Despite the thick earmuffs, Harry was dazed by the deafening noise that came through them — it felt like someone was beating a loud drum in Harry's head. Though Harry had hoped she would look better in the bright light, the old woman's wrinkled face appeared yellower and more frightening under the candlelight. Her rolling eyes finally stopped on Harry and she howled, "YOOOOOOU! YOU WHO DECEIVED MY SON AND ROBBED OUR HOME! BLOOD TRAITOR, MUGGLE'S PETTY MINION, SHAME ON OUR KIND!"
With the help of his earmuffs, Harry was able to withstand the old woman's harsh words for quite some time. Finally, Harry pointed his wand at her as she gasped for breath. "Mrs. Black, no one will protect you anymore. It's over for you!"
"If only I were still alive! You bastard! A weed without roots! How dare you threaten the mistress of this house! The Dark Lord will not allow it!" Mrs. Black screamed, her bloodshot eyes bulging. Taking a few steps back, Scorpius and Albus covered their ears, clutching their earmuffs in both hands.
"Voldemort is dead! I've put an end to him forever!" shouted Harry.
The old woman made a gasping sound as if something had caught in her throat and immediately stopped cursing. "You lie — the Dark Lord is unbeatable. And how dare you speak his name out of a filthy mouth?" Her eyes narrowed as she whispered.
Taking a step forward to stand beside Harry, Scorpius said, "You're late with the news, Mrs. Black. It's been a while since Voldemort died — even before I was born, perhaps?"
Harry tried to stand between Scorpius and the portrait to keep him from being startled by her sudden shout, but Mrs. Black's mad face softened and her hazy eyes seemed to clear a little. "Aren't you the Malfoy boy? What are you doing next to that blood traitor?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am, but young Malfoy is right," said Harry. "Times have changed. Now you're nothing more than a relic of the past."
"Abomination! Filthy murderer!" Her voice was still venomous, but now she looked a little dejected. "Help me, Malfoy! Stop this mad man!"
Harry pointed his wand at the frame and shouted, "Incendio!"
Flames erupted from the tip of his wand and spread across the picture. A terrible scream followed, clearly audible even through their earmuffs. In an instant, the fire devoured the parched portrait, then moved to the frame and ignited it. Harry opened the window behind the burning picture and his vision gradually improved as the smoke cleared and the flames subsided. After being reduced to a mass of soot, the portrait of the Black family's last hostess was now charred beyond recognition.
"Is it all over now?" Albus asked, his voice shaking, "She's not coming back, is she?"
"Have you been concentrating on your Transfiguration classes, Albus?" asked Scorpius accusingly. "An enchanted portrait will never return to its original state if you damage the people in it beyond repair. This woman has been completely destroyed."
"I hope you're right, Scorpius. Frankly, I think you know more about Transfiguration than I do," Harry said with a grin.
Although Scorpius looked as much like his father as Albus looked like Harry, his know-it-all attitude reminded him more of Hermione than Draco.
"Now it's time to clean up this mess — would you like to try, Scorpius?"
"It's a great honor to be asked a favor from you, Mr. Potter." Scorpius stepped forward and drew his wand. "Though I'm not yet familiar with the Vanishing Spell, I'll give it a try."
It soon turned out, however, that Scorpius was very good at that spell. The grimy black remnant of the portrait in front of them began to shrink, getting smaller and smaller, until it was gone altogether after he muttered "Evanesco."
From then on, everything went smoothly: Since Kreacher had already cleared the dust and removed the webs, Albus and James were able to move their things into Regulus's and Sirius's old rooms. Aside from the bitter feeling of losing the last traces of Sirius, Harry also felt that removing Mrs. Black's picture was indeed a good thing. Thinking of how much Sirius had hated his mother in that portrait, where she had cursed and hurled the most obscene insults at anyone who passed by, Harry could vividly imagine his godfather's warm and sincere smile.
It had been a while since Harry had enjoyed such a peaceful and relaxing time as the next few days. At first it hadn't felt right not to get up at the crack of dawn, but after a few days he couldn't remember how he had managed to work so hard every day for the past twenty years. As for Teddy, he had come to stay in one of the newly added guest rooms and went out with Victoire Weasley or took James and Lily to see the Muggle world. Despite getting along well with the rest of the household, Albus and Scorpius were not naturally very active people; most of their time was spent practicing various charms and spells, or studying for their upcoming O.W.L.s.
There was only one thing that bothered Harry: Hermione had not contacted him yet. The accusations against the Minister grew more radical by the day, and the complaints grew louder as Gringotts Wizarding Bank now prohibited their customers from withdrawing their gold until the current situation was resolved.
At one dinner, Teddy said solemnly, "I've never seen Diagon Alley so empty. People cannot get money out of their vaults, even if they want to use it. If this goes on, there will be riots."
In his interview published Thursday in the Daily Prophet, Gringotts Bank's Head Goblin, Ragnok, revealed some details about this strange robbery. According to Ragnok, several Muggles withdrew Galleons from the bank in exchange for their world's money, emptying the Ministry of Magic's vault in the process, in keeping with the rumors Kreacher had heard. It was the goblin's contention that the wizards were entirely to blame for the situation.
"It was once the responsibility of us goblins to guard and maintain the vaults of Gringotts, including those of the Ministry," Ragnok had said, according to the newspaper. "During the reign of the Death Eaters, the goblin guards at Gringotts were replaced by wizards, but even after the demise of the Dark Lord, this wrong practice continued. Now you can see the outcome! The wizard guards were completely unaware of what was going on, while these Muggles were free to come and go through the front door and steal all of the Ministry's wealth."
On Friday morning, Harry sat cross-legged in the kitchen, reading today's Daily Prophet. Scorpius and Albus sat across from him, working on their homework, occasionally pulling out their wands and waving them. There was an interview in the paper with a wizard whose name was hidden, but Harry could swear it was Crabbe or one of his men. The anonymous contributor claimed that Hermione Granger, a well-known traitor to the Wizarding world, had sold off the fortune of their world to Muggles for her own benefit. In addition, this unnamed person suggested that the Wand Act she had been promoting was actually intended to hinder the legitimate and heroic struggles of wizards and witches against the Muggle invasion of their community. The article that followed the interview also mentioned that more people, regardless of blood status, agreed with the above statement and that pure-bloods should once again lead the Ministry of Magic.
Harry stared thoughtfully at the fireplace as he closed the newspaper. The demands that had been dismissed as nonsense in the past now seemed quite intimidating. Whether it was unpaid leave or not, he felt he had to get back to work after the weekend. Hermione's refusal to answer, let alone meet him, was frustrating, but there seemed to be no other option.
"Albus, Scorpius." Harry called out and the two boys raised their heads. "I'm sure you've heard about what happened at Gringotts. How did Hogwarts react to the news?"
"There was a lot of upset, especially in our House," said Albus bleakly. With a look of discomfort, he exchanged glances with Scorpius. "Last Saturday, news spread that Gringotts had been stolen, and the next day rumors began to spread that Muggles were responsible for the theft."
"At first we thought it was just another rumor, but Elijah Zabini and the others were serious," Scorpius added.
"A Zabini, you said? Is Blaise Zabini his father?" asked Harry. Blaise Zabini, who had been a Slytheirn the same year as Harry, was generally disliked by Harry and his friends for his excessive vanity and arrogance.
"Must be, Mr. Potter — it doesn't seem like a very common name. Elijah has been the prefect of our House for two years now." Scorpius hesitated before continuing, "Since the original prefect, Craig Bowker . . . had died."
Albus and Scorpius exchanged another uncomfortable look. Delphi Diggory, now imprisoned in Azkaban, was the one responsible for the murder of the former Slytherin prefect, and Albus and Scorpius were reluctant to mention it, since they had also inadvertently been involved in her evil plot.
"As a general rule, Slytherins are not allowed to use MP3 players, smartphones, tablets or any other Muggle devices. The reason for this is that Muggles could use these tools to infiltrate our world," Albus went on. "Furthermore, after the Gringotts incident, Elijah insisted that these measures be extended to the entire school. So he and his close friends made the whole House stand in front of the willow tree and bring out all the confiscated Muggle machines to hold a rally."
"You mean the Whomping Willow? It's no coincidence that the tree is called that . . ." When Harry thought of the tree and the bumps and scratches it had caused him, he still felt a throbbing.
"The Willow did its best to crush us, of course. But because of the good distance we kept, the tree decided to smash the Muggle machines floating around it instead," said Scorpius gravely. His body mildly shook as he remembered what had happened. "When the Willow smashed those Muggle devices like a mad troll, we were forced to stand around with torches and watch. In Elijah's words, it was a purification ceremony, and it felt strange and solemn at the same time. Perhaps he was born with a sense for directing a stage. . . . Albus and I thought it was just silly at first, but watching it at night turned it into a terrifying scene."
"What did the other House students say about it? Or the professors?"
"Here's the thing, Mr. Potter — there was something strange going on . . ." Scorpius paused with a grim expression on his face and turned to Albus.
"Many pure-blood students from other Houses also came to see us, and shockingly, they applauded us, Dad!" said Albus. "According to them, the new generation has a responsibility to drive out the evil Muggle technologies. Then they said they regretted not going to Slytherin, which came as quite a surprise to us. Slytherins are usually rejected by other Houses, as you may know."
"We also saw several professors in the distance, but they left us alone. Perhaps they had the same thoughts as Elijah — Muggles and their technology are generally viewed with suspicion these days," said Scorpius gloomily. "I know it sounds absurd, Mr. Potter . . . but that night I thought that perhaps, for the first time in the history of Hogwarts, Slytherin could become the most desirable House."
Their conversation was then interrupted by the sound of the front door slamming open and a chattering noise coming from outside. Carrying paper bags and boxes, Teddy, Victoire, James and Lily entered the kitchen; Lily kissed Harry on the cheek as she ran to him.
"Thank you so much for the present, Dad! It's so good to have a smartphone!" She took a small tin box out of the shopping bag and shook it in front of Harry.
"All right, but that doesn't mean you can neglect your studies," said Harry. Although he spoke cheerfully, he felt uneasy after hearing about the radical anti-Muggle campaign the Slytherins had undertaken. "But won't it break if you keep it here? There's so much magic around . . ."
"Oh, come on, Harry!" Teddy, arm in arm with Victoire, shook his head. "It's in a Faraday cage!"
"A Faraday cage?" Harry asked, confused.
Teddy pointed to the metal box in Lily's hand. It had an unusual structure, all sides except the top and bottom tightly wrapped in wire mesh. "This thing. I don't know exactly how it works, but I heard a certain Squib invented it, and now it's for sale in Diagon Alley. As long as you put your electronics in it, magic won't damage them."
"When are you going to use these Muggle toys if you always have to put them in a box?" said Harry in disbelief.
"Uncle Harry, you really need to catch up with the new century," said Victoire sulkily. Like her mother, she was willowy and beautiful, but unlike Fleur, her English was flawless. "At Hogwarts, a certain spell lets you use such things safely."
"If you say so. . . . One more thing: these machines can take pictures and record, but what if information about Hogwarts leaks out?" Harry asked worriedly, but Teddy just smiled at him.
"It's happened once or twice: Someone took a video clip of Hogwarts Castle and posted it on You-Toobe or something. But Muggles just thought the video was a crude fake, so no one really believed it."
"Teddy's absolutely right, Uncle Harry," Victoire agreed, nodding gracefully. "Muggles are so technologically advanced that now they cannot tell the real from the fake, which is a good thing for us."
"As you kindly pointed out, I really must be behind the times," Harry sighed as he looked back at the fireplace, which he had considered a state-of-the-art means of communication as a child. "I'll have to check out Hogwarts soon — it sounds like a lot has changed in that place."
Teddy sat lopsidedly in the middle of the table, tripping over the stacks of books that Albus and Scorpius had piled up. "Ruddy bookworms, you two! I suggest we pass a law forbidding studying on holidays."
"And you expect Hermione to make such a law?" Albus grumbled and put his books back in their place. "Teddy, we are in the fifth year of Hogwarts. There are only a few months left before we take our O.W.L.s!"
"That's right, Mr. Lupin," said Scorpius seriously. "These exams will determine our futures and our careers!"
"Exams play an important role in your life, do you think? But look at me, I failed half of these exams and I'm still an Auror!" said Teddy, laughing at them.
"For once, Teddy, be humble. You're a Metamorphmagus, and you came in as a special offer," said Harry. "An average person could never become an Auror with your exam results."
"I've got something to say too, if you play it that way — Kingsley skipped the test for you, because you beat Voldemort!" snapped Teddy.
"I'd rather take the test, Mr. Lupin. Studying all of a sudden seems so easy," Scorpius said gloomily, causing a round of laughter in the kitchen.
Teddy nudged Albus with his elbow and said, "Nothing's going to change if you play one more day! Let's go to the movies tonight. It's so much fun watching Muggle movies these days!"
"You mean those movies where heroes and villains fight and then destroy the world together? Their plots sound so absurd, even by our standards," said Scorpius coolly.
"Still, getting some fresh air outside sounds like a great idea. When I was young, it was too dangerous to leave the house at all," said Harry. "When all was said and done, my regret was not that I couldn't study more, but that I couldn't spend more time with my friends."
Hearing this, Albus and Scorpius followed the others upstairs to change, grinning despite their hesitation, and Teddy, who was about to leave the kitchen, stopped when Harry said, "Stay a moment, young man. Did you do what I asked? A daily check on Markus Dolohov."
"As a matter of fact, I check on him twice a day. There's still no sign of trouble," said Teddy regretfully. "Any trouble he caused would have cost him dearly, though."
"Were there any other Aurors around his cell? I hear the purebloods have been on edge since the Gringotts incident last week."
"Quite understandable. Who would have thought that Muggles would robe Gringotts one day?" said Teddy. He looked at the paper bags on the table, took a cookie out of one and had a bite. "Slytherins in our department would be upset too. Still, I've seen Slughorn alone in the office, even when he wasn't getting paid, making sure nothing fishy was going on. It's a shame he's no fun at all, but at least he's loyal to you."
"You should really try to get along with Edmund. It's only your prejudice against Slytherins that stops you — he's such a decent young man," said Harry. "Now go and make sure the children don't use magic. With the Ministry of Magic closed right now, any accidents could be a big deal."
With the chirping of people on the porch and the sound of the door closing, Harry was left alone in the large house. Since the Daily Prophet was open for business, as opposed to the Ministry, Ginny was at work and Kreacher had gone out to buy groceries to properly serve the guests. Harry read the rest of the paper, resting his feet on a chair before his eyelids began to close. The light from the stove reflected off the heavy iron pots and pans hanging from the ceiling, and then the kitchen seemed to grow darker. . . . A moment later Harry fell asleep.
Harry's dream was very weird indeed: Hagrid smashed Gringotts Bank with a fire-breathing dragon he rode, and giggling Muggles came in and took the gold coins without restraint. When Harry tried to run away from the burning bank, the goblins grabbed his legs and wouldn't let him go; Hermione stood on the podium across the hall and screamed at him.
"Harry! Wake up, Harry!" cried Hermione desperately. "It's me! Hermione!"
"I know who you are!" Harry yelled. "But what about the dragon?"
Harry was then engulfed in the dragon's fire. He coughed as he awoke to the smell of acrid smoke in his nose. Swinging his wand in the air, he sucked in the thick black smoke like a vacuum cleaner, billowing from the fireplace and filling the kitchen. Harry approached the fireplace to see if anything was wrong, and was startled to see a familiar face sitting in the fire.
"You're finally awake, Harry!" Hermione said as her mouth moved in the fire. "Sorry about the smoke — you kept talking in your sleep despite my shouts, so I had to do something . . ."
"Hermione, why haven't you been in touch?" asked Harry quickly, crouching down in front of the fire. "I've written you at least a dozen letters!"
"I know, Harry. But until now, there was no way to avoid the media and still reach you," said Hermione. "I've tried to resolve this matter myself, but I couldn't — I'm going to need some help from you and Ron."
"Absolutely." Harry picked up the cloak hanging from the chair and began to put it on. "What really happened to Gringotts to get it into this mess?"
"Sorry, I can't talk here. . . ." Hermione twitched her lips. She glanced left and right and hissed, "I'm on my way to Shell Cottage now. Get there as soon as you can and take Ron with you."
