Penumbra I: Falls the Shadow

by Skaldic Oresteia

Post-HBP. As Harry disappears on the Horcrux hunt, Ginny is left behind to find her own path in the war against Voldemort. On separate paths, Harry finds an unexpected ally, while Ginny faces repercussions for helping him leave. Meanwhile, the Wizarding World faces an increasingly bleak future as Voldemort unleashes a darker and deadlier power than anyone could have ever imagined.

10. 8: Enemy of My Enemy

Chapter Eight
Enemy of My Enemy

"I conclude, therefore, that a prince should not be greatly concerned about conspiracies when the people are well disposed toward him, but when they are his enemies and hate him, he must fear everything and everyone."
—Niccolo Machiavelli, "The Prince"

---

On the day Ginny was to begin work at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, she was so eager that she woke up on her own two hours earlier than was normal for her. In spite of all that happened, just the idea of getting out of Grimmauld Place and into the active, adventurous climate of her brothers' shop made her happier than she had felt for some time. Fred and George had told her to Floo over at seven, but in the time before then, she was so impatient that she felt a bit antsy, though making herself some eggs and toast helped relieve her restlessness. All the while she watched the clock in the kitchen. At twenty minutes to, Molly entered the kitchen.

"Oh, there you are," she said, catching sight of Ginny. "I went upstairs just now to wake you, but it looks like you didn't need me." She pursed her lips, then added, "You must really be looking forward to this."

Ginny grinned as she scooped eggs onto her plate; even her mothers' less-than-enthusiastic demeanour couldn't dampen her spirit, not today. "Fred and George know what they're doing," she assured her mother.

As she began eating, Molly said with a defeated sigh, "Well, just be careful, Ginny. The Death Eaters have"—

"…attacked Diagon Alley in the past," Ginny finished, swallowing some toast. "I know."

"No heroics if they do," Molly pled. "Just come back here."

She sounded so genuinely worried that Ginny didn't have the heart to do anything more than nod. Instead she returned to her breakfast and privately marvelled at how well the twins' persuasion had worked.

Ten minutes later, when she looked at the clock and saw that it was five minutes to, she went to the fireplace in the sitting room, Molly close behind, and pointed her wand to light the wood on the fire grate. As flames erupted into life, filling the room with a sudden, stifling warmth, Ginny took some Floo Powder from the flower pot and looked up at her mother. "Bye, then. I'll see you this evening."

Molly only nodded. Ginny then flung the powder into the fire, and stepped inside. "Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes!" she yelled.

Seconds later, she stumbled out of a fireplace, landing on her back on a dirty floor in a dimly-lit room that smelled of gunpowder. The next thing she knew, George's hand had grasped hers, pulling her to her feet.

"Cough up, Fred," he told his twin, who sat on a couch nearby, looking disgruntled. Fred took a couple of Sickles from his pocket, and grudgingly handed them over. Ginny snorted.

"What?" George asked her. "It was just a little bet on how early you'd get here. Fred was betting on half an hour."

"Do you two have to bet on everything?" asked Ginny incredulously.

"Yes," the twins said in unison.

The fireplace suddenly erupted with green flames, and then Bill stepped into the flat much more gracefully than Ginny had, dusting ash from his robes.

"Morning, Bill," Fred greeted, looking considerably more cheerful. "At least your timingcan be relied on."

"I wasn't late!" Ginny protested.

"On time, in this case,is not punctual," Fred retorted. "I should have bet on Bill instead."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You two are all levels of unbelievable." She then asked Bill, "So what are you doing here, then?"

"I'm just here to help you bypass all of Gringotts' new security so we can get your bank vault set up as quickly as possible," he answered, as he began to brush ash out of his long hair.

"Can you do that?"

Bill smirked. "How d'you think I got Harry in there so fast last month? If you know the right goblins, it's not difficult to get favours, as long as you give them favours right back. If you're friendly enough with a few of them, you might not even need to return favours."

"Which is why we wanted you here early," George explained. "Gringotts opens at 7:30, and the earlier you get in, the easier it is."

Bill checked his watch. "Right. So, since it's seven now, we'll be on our way there."

He gestured for Ginny to follow him. Fred leapt to his feet. "I'll come too. I am her employer, after all."

Bill shrugged, and the three of them left the room and down a narrow staircase. At the bottom landing, Ginny could see the side room of the shop, where Fred and George kept their Defence line of products. She could see a couple of Decoy Detonators inching their way towards the edge of their shelf. Fred waved his wand at them, and they were forced back into their box with a loud snapping sound.

"They're always trying to get away," he commented. "But, of course, that's what they're supposed to do. We have to give them a little incentive to stay where they are."

The shop was oddly eerie when unlit and devoid of people. Ginny carefully wound her way past the stacks of products, avoiding knocking anything over, although she glanced at everything she passed, from the stacks of Patented Daydream Charms to the display of fake wands, trying to better familiarise herself with the shop as she went. Fred waved his wand at the front door, which promptly swung open. As they stepped into the street outside, the door swung shut and Ginny heard the lock click behind it. Rather than start for the bank, however, Bill turned to look at the shop and drew his wand, muttering incantations.

"We meant it when we said we've taken precautions," Fred explained to Ginny. "Bill and Dad have set up all sorts of protective barriers. Even if the Death Eaters do attack Diagon Alley, they'll have a job getting into the shop, giving us time to get ourselves and any customers out. And once they do get in"—he grinned evilly—"they're in for a few surprises."

"The Floo connection here is mostly one way," added Bill. "Anyone can Floo out of the shop, but you can only Floo in from a few select places, Grimmauld Place among them. You can also Portkey out but not in, and you can't Apparate or Disapparate at all." He then stowed his wand away, looking satisfied. "Well, it looks like they're all holding up. Let's go."

Like the shop, Diagon Alley looked very strange when quiet and mostly deserted. It occurred to Ginny that she really had only visited the place in the weeks before the school year started, and for that reason it was always fairly packed. She supposed that there was still a rise in business at this time due to other magical schools, but evidently very few had chosen to visit Diagon Alley at this hour (a glance at the other shops' signs told her that most didn't open until nine or ten). She only saw a few people wandering around during their trip to Gringotts. As they went, Bill seemed to keep a wary eye on them, and she recognised a couple of the same untrustworthy, independent vendors selling questionable products from the year before. She suspected that most of them were Dung Fletcher's type, but she knew that her father kept a close watch on them for anything or anyone possibly in league with the Death Eaters.

They reached Gringotts ten minutes early, but the goblins standing guard at the front, recognising Bill, allowed him and his siblings in without too many questions. The lobby was deserted except for the guards, but Bill calmly seated Ginny and Fred at a bench, and stood with his hands in his pockets, watching a large clock over the main desk. They could hear activity in the chamber beyond, the sound of goblins and other employees arriving for work, as they waited. Finally, the clock struck 7:30 with a loud clang, and the doors to the main chamber opened. Bill led them in and started craning his neck, looking around among the crowd of goblins and other employees.

"There he is," he finally said, leading them towards an abnormally tall goblin at the end of the entrance chamber, who was signalling for them to come over.

When they reached him, the goblin got straight to the point. "I got your note last night, Mr Weasley. Nearly missed it, in fact."

Bill nodded apologetically. "Sorry about the short notice, Grimrook. You know why I usually come this early, though."

"Getting your family past security measures again?" But the goblin smiled warmly. "So what do you need this time?"

Bill gestured at Ginny. "This is my sister, Ginny. Ginny, this is Rok Grimrook. He's in charge of investments and assigning bank vaults." To Grimrook, he added, "She's started a job at my brothers' shop, but she needs a vault and full access to it for her earnings. She's underage."

Grimrook smiled at Ginny and extended his long-fingered hand, which she tentatively shook, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. Though Ginny wasn't easily intimidated, it was the first time she'd ever had to look up when speaking to a goblin, and in spite of Grimrook's polite manner, she suspected the Gringotts staff found him useful when dealing with difficult customers. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Weasley. Excited to start work?"

Ginny nodded, but wasn't sure what else to say to the goblin. Grimrook, seemingly having nothing further to say, led them to a desk near the front of the room, where an older goblin sat, looking tired and bored. The two goblins conversed in Gobbledegook for a moment, though Ginny heard her name in the midst of their conversation.

Seemingly finished, Grimrook looked back at the Weasleys. "This is Nagrod. He'll help you with your vault right away."

Nagrod snapped his long fingers, and a clipboard and quill appeared out of thin air with a loud snap. Taking these, he looked back at Ginny. "Full name?"

"Ginevra Molly Weasley."

"Address?"

Ginny hesitated and looked at Fred and Bill questioningly. Aside from not wanting to give the address to the Order's headquarters, she wasn't sure the Fidelius Charm would allow her to anyway.

"Use ours," Fred offered. "We'll forward anything you need to send her."

Nagrod scowled. "That's against policy."

"They're allowed an exception," Grimrook interrupted. "Type thirteen, section two. If Ragnok gets upset, refer this to Mr Gadlak."

"We are Weasleys, after all," Bill put in.

Nagrod nodded stiffly, still glowering, and opened up a book at his side, seemingly looking something up. Ginny and Fred looked at Bill curiously. "What on earth did that mean?" she asked quietly.

"The bank has allowed certain exceptions for us, for our own personal safety," Bill explained in a whisper. "Menger Gadlak, my boss, is aware that our family are targets of the Death Eaters. The bank does have exceptions for such cases."

Nagrod closed the book, looking satisfied. "Very well," he told Fred. "We may use your address."

"Excellent," Grimrook said cheerfully. "Let's continue, then."

At that moment, however, another goblin approached Grimrook and began speaking to him in Gobbledegook. Ginny knew very little of the language, but to her mild surprise, she could have sworn she heard the Minister of Magic's name somewhere in the conversation, and judging by Bill's frown, he was listening closely. Grimrook gave the other goblin a grim nod, and looked back at the Weasleys.

"Excuse me. I'm needed elsewhere," he said. "Nagrod, bear in mind that Mr Weasley"—he indicated Bill—"knows the policies back to front, and can explain anything you need to know. But send me or Mr Gadlak any further questions you might have."

Nagrod nodded grumpily, and Grimrook moved away, speaking quietly and hurriedly to the other goblin in their language.

"Well, that could have gone worse," Fred remarked nearly forty minutes later as they left the bank, all three of them a little worn out by the paperwork. "Wish it had been that Grimrook bloke helping us. He's the most polite goblin I've ever met."

"Part of the reason I contacted him," Bill admitted.

"Tall, though," Fred added as an afterthought.

"Wonder what he was called away for?" Ginny asked curiously, clutching her new vault key in her pocket. "I thought I heard Scrimgeour's name somewhere in that gabble."

"You did," Bill said. "It sounded like he was coming over to visit the proprietor, and normally it would be Menger Gadlak handling that, but he wasn't in yet, leaving Grimrook the most high-ranking goblin present."

"The proprietor?" Fred repeated. "You mean that rich Council-goblin you've been trying to get the Order in touch with?"

Bill nodded. "Cerdik Gadlak. The Gadlak family regularly communicates with the Minister's office, though. It could be anything."

"That's a bit dodgy," Ginny said.

Fred nodded. "You sure you want this bloke on our side?"

Bill frowned contemplatively. "Perhaps it is a bit dodgy. But like it or not, Gadlak does have influence and he is one of the most outspoken goblins against the Death Eaters. If if there's anyone who can get goblins on our side, it's him. And to be perfectly honest, I'd be more suspicious of Scrimgeour's role in these dealings than Gadlak's." Fred and Ginny looked at Bill questioningly, but he merely led them back down Diagon Alley, having nothing further to say on the matter.

"Everything cleared?" George asked, as soon as the others entered the shop.

"Yep. Glad to be out of there." Fred tossed his cloak onto the counter by the till. "That Nagrod bloke's a git."

"Yeah, well, that goes for a lot of them," said George.

"You've got the rest in hand?" asked Bill. When the twins nodded, he looked at Ginny. "I'll just be off, then. Have fun, Ginny."

He then went into the back and started up the stairs. A moment later they heard him calling the address to Grimmauld Place and the faint whoosh of the Floo network.

George looked at the clock. "Well, then, we've still got another forty minutes before we open, so let's get started."

"So what is it I'll be doing, exactly?" asked Ginny.

"Restocking shelves, helping take orders," Fred answered. "Helping customers find products, and doing inventory. Come and have a look back here."

He and George led Ginny through another door behind the counter, which opened into a large but dimly-lit room stocked with products. "Everything we sell is kept in bulk here and the basement below." Fred pointed at a trap door. "Take a look around sometime today, get to know the place, the products, and their prices. Just learn where we keep everything."

"I dunno if I can remember it all," Ginny said, staring at the many products.

"You'll learn, don't worry. So, every morning you'll come in at eight, and help us inventory. Then you'll spend the morning at the counter, ringing up products and filling out orders. You'll get a lunch break after four hours, and then you'll come back here by three and continue working until we close at seven."

"Right. How much am I starting off on?"

"Two Galleons, five Sickles an hour."

Ginny looked at Fred sharply. "What? But… that's almost twenty Galleons every day!" She'd never had more than twenty Galleons' in pocket change her whole life.

"And we can afford to pay you that much," he told her smugly. "Or haven't you noticed that you're the only shop assistant working here, and how much we rake in?"

Ginny managed a weak grin through her astonishment.

"Okay, now that that's cleared up," interrupted George, "let's get started. How about we start with the fake wands?"

---

Cerdik Gadlak liked to start his day with a cigar. It had been his habit ever since his father died and he took over the running of Gringotts. Something about the smoke seemed to set him at ease. His late wife had always hated the habit, and had called it disgusting, but he had never been able to kick it. On the other hand, it had never seemed to affect his health the way he knew tobacco ravaged the health of most humans and many goblins. Besides, he knew that there was one person in the world who hated the smell of his cigars even more than his wife had, and that was Rufus Scrimgeour. He therefore made certain that by the time Rok Grimrook showed the Minister of Magic into his office, that he was puffing on the cigar quite happily and obviously. As soon as Grimrook closed the door behind him, and stood to attention, Gadlak rose from his chair and extended his free hand to shake Scrimgeour's.

"Good morning, Minister," he cordially greeted. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I think we can dispense with the niceties, Mr Gadlak," Scrimgeour said gruffly. "I need to ask a favour of you."

"Well, then, I am at your service." Gadlak returned to his seat and opened the top left-hand desk drawer, and withdrew a cigar box, which he opened and offered to Scrimgeour with an air of innocence.

The Minister's nose wrinkled. "No, thank you. In fact, could you put that out? I have an allergy."

Gadlak was fairly certain that wasn't true, but nonetheless he put out the tiny cigar stub on an ashtray, and put the box back in its drawer. Scrimgeour then drew his wand, causing Grimrook to tense nervously. Gadlak gave him what he hoped was a reassuring look, and Scrimgeour, realising how this must look, pointed at the cloud of smoke.

"Do you mind?" he asked.

"Not at all."

Scrimgeour, visibly relieved, waved his wand at the smoke. "Ventilo!"

The smoke cleared. Grimrook relaxed as Scrimgeour put his wand away.

"Won't you sit down?" asked Gadlak, indicating a nearby chair.

"I'd prefer to remain standing, thank you," Scrimgeour said grimly.

"Suit yourself." Gadlak kept his face neutral as he spoke. He knew from experience that when Scrimgeour didn't want to sit, it meant either that he needed to discuss something serious, or he had a list of demands. This meant, of course, that he generally remained standing, especially in the past few months.

Scrimgeour paced a couple of times before Gadlak's desk,until he noticed Grimrook still standing by the door.

"This must be private, Mr Gadlak," Scrimgeour said curtly.

Grimrook looked at Gadlak questioningly, but the latter gave him a nod, then, at a moment when Scrimgeour wasn't looking at him, additionally gave a subtle wink. He was satisfied, upon seeing Grimrook's ears twitch, that he had understood. The young stockbroker then returned Gadlak's nod, gave a short bow, and left the room. Once the door closed, Scrimgeour looked back at Gadlak.

"I hope I can rely on your utmost discretion, Mr Gadlak," he said. Gadlak was mildly surprised to see that he looked almost nervous.

"I wouldn't make a very good banker if you couldn't," Gadlak responded.

Scrimgeour nodded, looking slightly more at ease. "I need access to the records pertaining to one of the vaults here. How much money is in it, where and when it has been spent, if any has been transferred to Muggle banks, and which ones."

Gadlak leaned forward on his desk, lacing his fingers together. "I normally leave this to my son to handle. You know that."

"This time I must ask you," Scrimgeour insisted.

"That sounds rather serious," Gadlak remarked. Scrimgeour merely gave him a withering look. It was with decades of practice that Gadlak repressed a smile. He'd been unfazed by more threatening looks. "We already monitor the accounts of all known and suspected Death Eaters, Minister," he reminded him.

"Not a Death Eater."

"A goblin?"

"No, a wizard. But one I take interest in."

Gadlak frowned. "Then you'll need a warrant from the Wizengamot."

Scrimgeour shook his head. "This is an unusual case. One that can't get leaked to the public. If I inform the Wizengamot, it will greatly increase that possibility."

"And whose account do you wish to monitor, may I ask?" Gadlak inquired suspiciously.

"Harry Potter's."

Gadlak was silent. For a moment he stared at the Minister, realising in that instant that at the very least, he knew that Potter had left his place of refuge. He wasn't sure how Scrimgeour could possibly have figured that out this early, but that wasn't important. It was more important to try to discern just how much Scrimgeour knew, and to ensure that the right people understood this too. Maintaining that carefully neutral expression he was so practiced at, Gadlak again opened the drawer where he kept his cigars. His smoking habit was widely known, as was his habit of cutting cigars for later use while in the midst of an absorbing conversation; what wasn't widely known was that inside the drawer, by the cigar box, lay a small hand mirror that showed the hall outside, and a slide bolted to the interior side of the drawer that controlled how much was audible from any specified distance beyond the door. After a quick glance at the mirror, pretending to rummage around his drawer for something, he discreetly moved the slide downwards a half inch before he withdrew another cigar. As he closed the drawer, he was satisfied that Grimrook, and only Grimrook, still standing outside, would now hear everything taking place inside the office.

"I see," Gadlak finally said, withdrawing a cigar cutter from his pocket. "And is there evidence of foul play? Suspicious behaviour on Mr. Potter's part? Or suspicious transactions, fraudulent use of Mr. Potter's wealth, that you've become aware of? Anything to warrant such an action?"

"What if I told you there was?" asked Scrimgeour.

Gadlak could tell that he suspected nothing of what he had just done, but he carefully concealed his satisfaction. "You would still need approval from the Wizengamot," he said sternly. "I was not aware that you had authority to override their laws."

He began cutting off the end of his new cigar as he spoke.

"Mr Potter's wellbeing is essential to the morale of the Wizarding community," Scrimgeour said, frustrated. "If you and the other goblins are conscious of your own safety, you'll see Mr Potter's tantamount importance as well. He must be found and brought back."

"So he's missing, then?" Gadlak said quickly, raising his eyebrows. "You're hoping that his most recent transactions might betray some hint of his whereabouts."

Scrimgeour said nothing, but his expression had darkened.

"Which means," Gadlak continued calmly, "that you don't believe his disappearance to be the work of the Death Eaters or the Dark Lord. You believe he has left of his own accord." When Scrimgeour made no reply, he shook his head. "Minister, I know I've earned a reputation as a risk-taker, but I am not reckless, and you are asking for a far greater risk than I am presently willing to take. I understand your concern, but I simply cannot allow this without the proper procedures. Proceed as you will, but until I see a proper warrant from the Wizengamot, you will not see one jot of Mr Potter's financial records."

Scrimgeour's face turned red. "I'd hoped to see you more concerned about this, Mr Gadlak," he said furiously. "Don't think I'm not aware of the concerns you've repeatedly expressed to the Council of Sixteen about the security of Tylwthteg."

"I'm sure you are, Minister. I am also sure that you're familiar with the saying that once involved in goblin politics, it is extremely difficult to extricate oneself. If I were you, I'd leave the dealings of the High Council to those already involved."

Scrimgeour didn't look remotely impressed with Gadlak's warning. Nonetheless, he said, "Fine. If you're so determined to do this through the established procedures, then I suppose I don't have much choice."

"Thank you," Gadlak said cordially. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, that will be all." Scrimgeour didn't look at all pleased as he went to the door. "Good day, Mr Gadlak."

As he stepped out into the hall, he audibly snapped at Grimrook, "I can show myself out, thank you."

Gadlak, meanwhile, leaned back in his chair, unsure if he felt wary or triumphant. A moment later Grimrook came back in, wearing an unhappy look. He closed the door behind him, and Gadlak opened his desk drawer and moved the slide back in its original place.

"Bad day for the Minister, I take it?" asked Grimrook.

"You heard, then?"

"I assumed you wanted me to, when you lowered the anti-eavesdropping wards."

Gadlak smiled at Grimrook's nonplussed, yet slightly impressed expression. "As I said to Scrimgeour just now, I wouldn't be a very good banker if I wasn't discreet. Both with who I don't want hearing certain details, and who must hear them."

"So I gathered," Grimrook said coolly. "And what would you have done if someone else had been out there?"

"If that had been the case, I would have found another way to communicate to you what had just occurred here," Gadlak said. "And for your information, I didn't lower those wards; I merely expanded the perimeter a couple of feet, so it included the exact spot where you were standing. In order for someone else to eavesdrop, they would have had to be standing on your shoulders."

Grimrook laughed. "I guess we can rest assured, then."

"Good. And now that I've set them back to their usual dimensions," Gadlak said, taking a matchbook from his pocket, "let us talk freely." He then struck a match and lit his newly-cut cigar, and puffed on it a couple of times, before withdrawing it from his mouth and looking at Grimrook seriously. "I'm sure Mr Potter would be most interested in what you just overheard, Rok."

"What should I tell him?" asked Grimrook.

"Everything that was said," Gadlak answered. "And make sure he knows that there's nothing I can do if Scrimgeour gets Wizengamot approval to monitor his finances. If, that is, his money and assets are still held at Gringotts when that occurs."

"I'll go as soon as my shift's over," Grimrook promised.

"Sooner. The moment I get you the proper documents."

Grimrook nodded, and looked at Gadlak expectantly, clearly waiting for him to say more, but after a moment, in which the banker merely puffed on his cigar with a thoughtful expression, he finally asked, "What can be done about this? Even if Potter does transfer his assets elsewhere, Gringotts will still hold a record of where he transferred them to. It won't stop Scrimgeour."

To his surprise, Gadlak only smirked. "Oh, there are ways around that. Don't forget how long I've been in this business, Grimrook, for good or ill. I think we can consider moving his money to a bank with a reputation for being more… anonymous." He then opened one of his right-hand drawers and pulled out a sheet of stationary. Seeing Grimrook's confused expression, Gadlak explained, "I have some wonderful connections in Switzerland that might shortly be of use."

Grimrook confusion turned to astonishment, and then wariness. "I see. And what of these connections' discretion?"

"These people are in the business of discretion, Rok," Gadlak said lazily. "I assure you, they are quite adept at forgetting pertinent details at the most convenient moments."

Grimrook couldn't help but grin at that. He had no idea how Gadlak managed his networks, both public and private, but he was glad the mogul was on their side. "How quickly would Scrimgeour be able to get that warrant?"

"Longer than it normally would, if he's trying to be as discreet as possible," Gadlak said, as he began to write a name on the stationary. "Normally this would only take one session of the Wizengamot. They currently are occupied with prosecution trials for Death Eaters the Aurors captured in Hogsmeade. But as soon as they next have a session on legislation and security matters, I imagine Scrimgeour will put this request through."

"So in the next couple of days," Grimrook breathed. He did not relish the headache he undoubtedly would develop during that time. "Can we get this done by then?"

"If you leave to speak to Mr Potter the moment I get you the correct forms, and bring them back as soon as he's signed them."

Grimrook nodded. For a moment he waited as Gadlak set aside the letter he'd started penning, and then stood and crossed his office to a filing cabinet in the corner. He then took a key from his pocket and unlocked the top drawer. For a moment Grimrook watched as Gadlak began thumbing through whatever papers he kept stored there, and then he withdrew a number of forms, and slammed the drawer shut.

"You do realise" Grimrook said, "that he'll know you're taking unusual interest in his affairs once I tell him? And that you know, or at least suspect, that I know his location?"

"Yes," Gadlak said quietly, as he returned to his desk. "I'm sure he will."

"And that as soon as he signs these," Grimrook added, "he'll demand an explanation."

Gadlak returned his gaze with a cool expression. "Which, I gather, you still haven't given?"

"He's been very ill," Grimrook said. "You tell me when any of us were supposed to tell him. And anyway, I know he and his friends have been a little suspicious already."

"Is he well enough to understand this and sign those forms?" asked Gadlak.

"I haven't seen him yet," Grimrook admitted. "Last time I went over there he was asleep, and what with the aftermath of Godric's Hollow and all Uncle Grobschmied and I have been trying to do, trying to discreetly investigate it—but anyway, from what Cecilia has said to me, Potter might be well enough."

"Then go see him, make sure he's awake, and say whatever is necessary to get him to take care of this. And if he asks why I am so involved with this, I would tell him the whole story, if I were you."

Grimrook nodded gravely. "Can you contact his new bank by the time Menger comes in?"

"You will kindly leave the communications and their timing to me," Gadlak said firmly. "I've run this enterprise quite successfully all these years, if I say it myself. I know what I'm doing."

Grimrook had no response to that. Gadlak then looked back at the letter he had started, and began consulting items on the form as he wrote. Recognising a dismissal, Grimrook made for the door, hoping to all the deities he'd been raised to believe in, that he wouldn't lose too much of Harry Potter's trust as a result of this development, and reflecting that like most goblins, perhaps he and the Gadlaks and his uncle were too inherently sly for their own good.

---

It was to everyone's satisfaction that on the fifth morning in the Grimrooks' house, Harry found that he was able, without Ron's assistance, to get out of bed and move around a bit, although he had been rather embarrassed by Hermione turning away to hide tears of relief. He still found his persistent weakness and his frequent lapses into exhaustion infuriating, but on the other hand, being able to get out of bed, even if it was only briefly, gave him hope that he was indeed taking the first steps down the road to recovery, as Cecilia assured him. At the very least, he hoped it meant he might soon get back to his work. He, Ron, and Hermione had refrained from discussing the Horcruxes or the mystery of R.A.B.'s identity since he first woke up, mostly to avoid the goblins overhearing. He knew they couldn't avoid the topic forever, but they likely would be unable to safely continue their mission until he was recovered enough for them to part ways with the Grimrooks.

The most recent revelations about their goblin hosts made Harry particularly wary of discussing his mission with Ron and Hermione, even when the three of them appeared to be alone. Like Ron, Harry couldn't shake the suspicion that Grobschmied and Grimrook's timely appearance in the graveyard at Godric's Hollow was more than mere luck, no matter what the goblins said otherwise. In his present state, however, Harry had no desire to provoke tension with his goblin caretakers, so rather than confront them, he simply watched and listened.

While he still had no new information about their unexpected presence in Godric's Hollow, or the murder of the Grimrooks' parents and grandparents, he did pick up on a few details about the goblins themselves. He learned, for instance, that in addition to being an adept stockbroker, Grimrook also had volunteered in the local goblin constabulary in the past, and was well trained in both magical and physical combat, which made him an important security asset for Gringotts as well. Hermione told him, from her many conversations with the gobliness, that Cecilia was currently receiving professional training in medicine from Feidlenid and the other priests and priestesses in Aelyn Dionn, but this chosen career path was mostly to pay her bills. Her real passion and talent was for designing magical and non-magical machines, or improving upon already existing designs, which he himself had observed when she used both Muggle and goblin medical equipment to examine him, rather than magic as Madam Pomfrey would have. In addition to these details, Harry also learned that Cecilia had mostly been raised by Grobschmied after her parents died, but her brother, a full fifteen years her senior, had already been an adult by the time the murders took place.

Grobschmied himself was more of a mystery. Neither Cecilia nor Feidlenid talked much about his past, though Harry was sure, from the hatred with which the elderly goblin had previously spoken of Voldemort, that there was more to his history than the loss of his parents and grandparents. However, all he really knew of Grobschmied, from what little he could get from Cecilia, was that he was an amateur historian, and, though retired, sometimes appeared at Gringotts as a consultant. Still, Harry had sensed enough from the strange goblin to feel wary of him most of all, suspecting that if this goblin family were truly up to something, Benedict Grobschmied was at the centre of it.

Once Harry had finished his breakfast, Ron pulled his old chess set out of his rucksack and challenged him to a game, as he had done repeatedly ever since Harry had regained enough strength to sit up without assistance. As Harry and Ron began commanding their pieces, Hermione settled in a corner with a book. The three of them passed the time in this manner for another couple of hours, during which time their only visitor was Feidlenid, who dropped by to give Harry a phial of his usual restorative draught. Emboldened by his getting up earlier that day, Harry had again asked her when he could expect to more fully recover, but she only vaguely answered, "It's when your body can heal. Not when you want to heal."

Once she left the room, and Harry finished gulping down his potion, he set down the phial with a louder clatter than usual before turning back to the game, though he was too annoyed to remember whose turn it was.

"I know this must be frustrating," Hermione said tentatively, seeing his expression.

"You think?" Harry snapped.

"Look on the bright side," Ron said cheerfully. "At least you can get to the loo on your own now."

Harry shot him a contemptuous look. Ron smirked and directed one of his knights to take Harry's last bishop.

His queen turned and brandished her tiny sword at him angrily. "What kind of player are you?" she shouted. "Get your head out of your miserable arse and focus on the game!"

Ron let out a bark of laughter. Harry, however, was so strongly reminded of Ginny that he couldn't help but smile fondly, even as his heart sank even further. He was sure it was exactly the kind of thing she would have said to him now, if she could see him. Stop moping, focus on getting better, and then bloody get to it. The queen and several other chessmen continued muttering mutinously as Harry tried to put greater attention to the game, but he was no less distracted, this time with thoughts of Ginny. It hadn't been lost on him that her birthday had only been a couple of days earlier, and he wished he could have been at the party Molly had undoubtedly thrown for her, rather than stuck in bed, too weak to get up without help. But at the same time, he wondered what Ginny would have to say if she could see him now, if she knew that only a week after she last saw him, he'd almost died because of his own carelessness. As his thoughts went in this direction, his frustration ebbed away, and instead his mind and heart were flooded with guilt. Had Grimrook not shown up, the only people with any real knowledge of the Horcruxes would be dead, and Voldemort would remain immortal, unstoppable. He'd almost failed Ginny, failed Dumbledore, failed everyone.

Once this truly sank in, Harry couldn't get his mind off anything else for the next half hour. Predictably, he lost the game to Ron rather spectacularly, earning himself more abuse from his chessmen, the queen and king in particular, but it was no less than he deserved. When Ron offered to play another game, Harry declined. The chessmen vociferously agreed. Ron was obviously disappointed, but to Harry, the whole situation was so pathetically appropriate it was almost comical. Oblivious to Harry's growing depression, Ron looked poised to insist on another game, causing the former to tense up. To Harry's relief, however, there was a loud knock on the door, and without waiting for an answer, Cecilia walked in, clad, Harry noticed, in a heavy apron sporting a few scorch marks, and a pair of rubber gloves; she also wore a pair of safety goggles around her forehead.

Before anyone could remark on her odd appearance, however, she hastily said, "Sorry to interrupt, Mr Potter, but my brother needs to speak to you. He says it's rather urgent."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked at her in surprise. Before Harry could say or ask anything, however, the goblin himself appeared behind Cecilia.

"Mr Potter," Grimrook greeted. "Good to see you again."

"Er, same." Harry noticed he was playing with the cuff of his coat sleeve in a somewhat nervous manner, in spite of his obvious effort to sound calm.

"I was pleased to hear you'd regained consciousness," said Grimrook. "I would have checked in earlier, but things have been hectic."

Harry disregarded his apology. "I've only been awake for a couple of days."

Grimrook nodded and pulled up a chair. Seating himself, he asked, "How are you holding up?"

"Better than two days ago, at least," Harry acknowledged.

"I'm very glad to hear it," Grimrook said, although Harry could tell that his nerves hadn't calmed in the least. "I've spent the past few days, when I'm not obliged to be at Gringotts, trying to learn more about what we saw in Godric's Hollow, but without success."

"You don't need to trouble yourself…" Harry started, but Grimrook shook his head fervently.

"I rather think I do," he said firmly. "What happened in Godric's Hollow concerns us all, the entire magical world, not just you."

Harry looked at him questioningly. He didn't like the dark tone that had entered Grimrook's voice, and realised that while he had been obliged to focus on his health, Grimrook and Grobschmied had, for the past couple of days, had time to really give some thought about what had happened, and he wondered what they had thus far knew or guessed.

"But that's not what I'm here to discuss. This needs your immediate attention," Grimrook said, and his initial nervousness returned. Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, and then looked back to the goblin as he swallowed, and began, "This morning Minister Scrimgeour paid the bank an unexpected visit…"

The next half-hour was an immensely uncomfortable one. They could hear a distant rumble of thunder and the gentle rustling of wind, and then the patter of rain on the roof of the Grimrooks' abandoned house throughout, which over time turned the air in the room very humid, and brought a mossy smell to the place, but the discomfort brought on by the precipitation was nothing next to the disbelief and anger at Scrimgeour—and even at the Order for somehow allowing the Minister to learn what he had done—gradually intensifying with every word Grimrook spoke.

When Grimrook finally finished, and handed a stack of forms to Harry, he glanced over them and looked at him incredulously. "You're asking me to sign a form transferring all of my money and assets without even knowing where I'm transferring it?"

"You're dividing it up and transferring it to a few numbered accounts in Switzerland," Grimrook explained. "Meaning that your identity will be replaced with a number known only to you and to a few select private bankers. There are also a few magical businesses who work with these banks, who, for the right price, will add additional layers of security with the same level of secrecy. In short, Scrimgeour will be able to work out that you transferred your money to this bank, but he won't know what accounts are yours, nor is he likely to be granted access to their records even if he did. But you will."

"And why is he signing two copies of everything?" asked Hermione, looking over Harry's shoulder as he thumbed through them.

"One of each copy has a false date on it," Grimrook explained. "The records shown to Scrimgeour will make it appear that you made the transfer the morning after your birthday, before anyone beyond the Order of the Phoenix knew you'd left them. That way Scrimgeour won't have reason to suspect that someone at Gringotts knows where you are and tipped you off."

"But how are you going to fool the Gringotts record keepers?" asked Hermione. "I understand that the other goblins are very adept at this. Can you get them to plant an obviously fake record and make it look authentic?"

Grimrook seemed to steel himself, before he said quietly, "They will if Gadlak tells them to. He pays them, after all. Probably even has something hanging over them, if I know him."

"And how are you going to persuade him to do this?" asked Harry.

He didn't like the way Grimrook bit his lip, and looked impossibly more nervous than he had when he came in. Finally, the goblin admitted, "There's no need. Gadlak was the one who warned me about all this, and told me what to do with these documents. He is ready to start opening these accounts as soon as he has the forms."

Harry saw Ron and Hermione both twitch uncomfortably. But Harry had no need for either of them to explain. Because of Scrimgeour's visit, Cerdik Gadlak was likely now aware of his disappearance, but the fact that he'd instantly directed Grimrook to take this action told Harry that Britain's wealthiest goblin somehow had already discovered that Grimrook knew his location. Harry hadn't had any dealings with Gringotts since before he left the Order, so there couldn't be anything on record to indicate that Grimrook had continued dealings with him; for that reason, Harry couldn't think of any possible way Gadlak had made the connection unless—Harry narrowed his eyes at Grimrook—the stockbroker had told him.

Grimrook seemed to know that Harry had come to this realisation, and in an almost pleading voice, he said, "You've made it very clear that you want to stay as anonymous as possible. I can keep it that way. Gadlak has the means to get this done immediately. There's no telling how quickly Scrimgeour can get that warrant through, and he will. And if you don't want the Ministry's scrutiny, Mr Potter, it is essential that they don't have access to your financial records. You'd be amazed what you can find out about a person by looking at their banking history." When Harry said nothing, and only continued to stare at Grimrook suspiciously, he finally asked, "Look, have I given you any real reason not to trust me until now? I know you feel I've backed you into a corner, but the fact remains that Scrimgeour could get that warrant by the end of the week. Unless you want Aurors turning up every time you spend or withdraw money, you need to let me do this."

Harry wasn't sure what made him angrier; Scrimgeour's actions, or whatever Grimrook had done to make Cerdik Gadlak—a rich and influential goblin and a total stranger to him—aware of his activities. But he also knew that Grimrook had a point. Whatever his own feelings towards Gadlak's involvement, he couldn't risk the Ministry tracing him without the Death Eaters also doing so, which would give Voldemort an opening to find out what he was up to. Dumbledore's words from months ago sounded in his memory: You cannot risk it. It was either put his trust in Grimrook—and by extension Gadlak—or put himself in a situation where he'd have to proceed without any money. As he looked over the forms again, he also realised that this conundrum was the only thing he understood about the situation. He knew little about money matters, and the wording on the forms before him made little sense to him.

With little choice in the matter, he knew he most likely would have to resign himself to signing these forms. He therefore grudgingly handed them to Hermione. "Could you look them over?"

She nodded.

"Read the fine print," Harry told her firmly. "And read it again. Make sure I'll know what I'm getting into."

Grimrook stood. His ears were drooping a little, but otherwise he kept a calm demeanour. "I'll be waiting downstairs," he said, and he then hastily left the room, leaving a stunned silence.

The moment his footsteps died down, Ron said angrily, "I told you, Hermione. I told you they're up to something. They want something from Harry, and maybe they're now trying to corner him with this financial stuff!"

"They haven't given us any reason not to trust them until now, though," Hermione whispered.

Harry scowled at her. "You do realise that this probably means that this banker knows that Grimrook's in contact with us? For all we know, Gadlak even knows where we are!"

"I understand that, yes," Hermione said hastily. "But given the urgency, Grimrook may have had no choice but to inform Gadlak about being in contact with you."

"Without consulting me first?" Harry demanded.

"Unless Gadlak already knew that you're here, before this started," Ron said coldly.

Harry nodded furiously. Hermione looked very worried, uncertain what to think, but she nodded. "Give me a few minutes," she said, as she sat in Grimrook's vacated chair and began to read the first form.

---

"I did warn you that something like this could happen," Cecilia said nearly half an hour later as she drew her soldering iron from the brass pieces she'd been working on. "You'll be lucky if he has any trust left in you after this."

Her brother was seated at the far end of the table, a safe distance from his sister's work. "Uncle Benedict and I had intended to tell him, Cecilia. But then he was viciously attacked and injured before we could properly contact him. He only woke up a couple of days ago, and he's still in a weak condition. It just never seemed a good time."

Cecilia snorted. "Yes, it's never been a good time with a lot of things lately. You'd better hope that Mr Potter sees it that way when you explain it to him." She shook her head in some annoyance, and then picked up another component of the instrument she'd been trying to make improvements on, probably hoping to amplify the protective enchantments still further, Grimrook thought.

"That's assuming he remains long enough for me to explain," he muttered.

On the other side of the work room, Feidlenid stood wringing her hands. "He cannot leave," she said. "He is too weak."

Cecilia nodded. "Apparation or any other kind of magical transportation would be too dangerous for him right now," she said, as she examined the piece in the sunlight streaming through the window. "And if he knows what's good for him, he won't risk St Mungo's."

"He may try somewhere else," Grimrook said. "Or return to the Order of the Phoenix." He shook his head guiltily.

"Then ask him to listen," Feidlenid said. "Truth will—how do you say?—talkath'in?"

"Persuade?" Cecilia offered.

"Yes, that." Feidlenid smiled awkwardly and tried again, "Truth will persuade him better."

The Grimrook siblings looked at each other.

"Perhaps she's right," Cecilia said, putting the piece down. "Once he realises what you know, he won't be able to resist. He won't have any choice."

"An offer he can't refuse?" Grimrook asked, smiling slightly.

Before Cecilia could answer, Hermione's voice suddenly interrupted, "You're familiar with Muggle cinema?"

The three goblins all jumped and spun around to look at her. She had been standing in the doorway, the forms in her hands, and her nose wrinkled at the smell coming from the soldering iron, though it wasn't clear to them how long she'd been listening.

Recovering, Grimrook said, "Muggles have good taste."

Hermione didn't laugh. Her expression was very serious. "What is it you want with Harry?"

There was no doubt about how much she had heard now. Grimrook swallowed and insisted, "We're not up to anything sinister, Miss Granger. In fact, when he hears what we've got to say, I'm sure he'll be very interested."

"Yes, so you've said." Hermione looked at the forms in her hands, and then showed them to him. To Grimrook's immense relief, he could see that Harry had signed all of them. "You are right about one thing," Hermione continued quietly. "He has no choice but to sign these. And he recognises it."

"Thank you."

Grimrook reached for the forms, but Hermione unexpectedly held them back. "He's signed them, but on one condition." At Grimrook's nod, she said, "You'll tell him exactly what you are doing. Why you were in Godric's Hollow at the same time we were, why you brought him here, and why Cerdik Gadlak seems to be in on this. What you and Gadlak and your uncle want with him."

Grimrook glanced at Cecilia, and said, "It's a very long story. There's no time to tell him before we need to get this in. And it's more my uncle's story than mine."

"I see." Hermione looked between him and Cecilia, clearly thinking it over. She then said, "I will tell Harry exactly what I heard here."

"I expected that," Grimrook said quietly.

"And we expect you and your uncle to tell us everything, starting tomorrow morning," Hermione continued. "If you are not here by ten o' clock, we are going to return to the Order of the Phoenix. Maybe you'll have to tell us your story under the Order's terms and not your own."

Grimrook inhaled deeply, trying to think how best to respond. After a moment, he said, "That's fair. I'd probably make a similar demand in your position." Hermione coldly nodded and held out the forms, which Grimrook quietly took. As she turned to go back upstairs, however, Grimrook spoke again. "Miss Granger, I understand how this must look to you and to Mr Potter. It is clear to me that you three haven't simply gone into hiding, that there's a deeper purpose to your departure from the Order of the Phoenix, and my uncle and I, strangers to you, have intruded on that. It is natural for you to be suspicious." As he spoke, he glanced at Cecilia, and then at Feidlenid, who nodded encouragingly. Then he looked back at Hermione and added, "Understand this, Miss Granger: my family has its own history with Voldemort." As he spoke, his voice grew fierce. "Over the years, that lych has torn the Grobschmied and Grimrook families apart. He very nearly framed my uncle Benedict for theft and for murder. He killed my uncle Laertes many years ago. He murdered my mother, my father, and my grandparents. My uncle, my sister and I are now all that's left of both sides to my family."

The anger in Grimrook's countenance had now become so pronounced that Hermione's eyes were wide.

"When you go upstairs, Miss Granger, I want you to tell Mr. Potter that he is not the only one whose entire life had been under the shadow of Lord Voldemort," he continued vehemently. "He's not the only one who has a claim on that monster's head. And that, Miss Granger, is what is at the heart of all this."

---

The first few hours seemed to go by extremely quickly, so quickly that Ginny could have sworn that by the time she finished familiarising herself with the twins' inventory, only about half an hour had passed. However, before she knew it, George had closed the shop for their usual lunch hour, and told her to help herself to anything in their fridge, or to head back to Grimmauld Place if she wanted. Not wanting to spend her lunch break listening to her mother lecturing her about caution in Diagon Alley, Ginny wandered up the stairs and into the twins' sitting room, where she found Fred kneeling by their coffee table, which was littered with bits and pieces, especially, she noticed, hair clips. He seemed to be looking appraisingly at a bright purple, glittery barrette, and Ginny said, "Nice choice of hair dress, Fred."

Fred held the barrette up against his hair, with an air of concern. "You think they'd look good on me?"

"Oh yeah, that colour really goes well with your hair, really contrasts well," Ginny said, smirking. "You ought to try it out. Looks about as good on you as maroon does on Ron."

"Shove off." Fred put the barrette down, grinning. "Is it lunch break already?"

Ginny nodded. "George said he just needed to straighten some things out downstairs, and then he practically shoved me up here. Told me to take two hours off if I need to."

"Damn right," said Fred. "We don't need you collapsing on your first day. Might as well take the time to discuss some other things, while you're up here and Mum's not around."

"The real reason you hired me?" asked Ginny with raised eyebrows. "Come off it, I know you both."

"We can't hide anything from you for long. Noted." Fred leaned back in his chair, and Ginny wasn't sure she liked the mischievous look that was slowly appearing on his face. "We would have told you earlier today, before we opened, but by the time we got back from Gringotts there wasn't time."

"And why do I get the impression that what you're about to tell me is completely mental?"

"What? Are you telling me you don't want to hear our great idea?" challenged Fred.

"Not necessarily, but remember I've heard a lot of your 'great ideas' before," Ginny shot back.

"Just hear us out," Fred said, trying too hard to sound pleading. "As you know, Tonks is considering using the D.A. to recruit for the Order. Kingsley's put her in charge of recruiting, you know, and she's found a few trustworthy Ministry employees, but not enough to match the Death Eaters."

Ginny frowned. "Why is the Order having so much trouble recruiting? Most people have something to lose by Voldemort taking over. You'd think more people would fight."

"Well, one reason is that most in the Order are too well known to the Death Eaters," Fred explained sourly. "They'll be trying to watch us and keep track of who we talk to. The same goes for the Aurors, so even their new recruits are being watched. The other problem is that the Order is a more direct enemy of the Death Eaters, and does not have approval from the Ministry."

"Damn right," Ginny said adamantly.

"Yeah, but the drawback is that most people aren't going to want to provoke the Ministry or the Death Eaters, for fear of their own lives as well as their families. You won't get many mothers or fathers with young children joining, for instance."

Brought up short, Ginny said, "Yeah, I can see that. And Tonks told me that the D.A. would be a very good starting point because they weren't very well known to the Death Eaters."

"Exactly," Fred said. "So here's our great idea. It's a very bold one. Daring. Very Weasley-ish, unless you're Mum or Percy. But we'll need the Order's backing. Tonks will agree to it. Aberforth might agree to it. Remus might need some persuading. And Dad and Kingsley will definitely need persuading."

Ginny folded her arms and started tapping her foot impatiently. "Are you going to tell me to what the Order will need persuading?"

"Involving the D.A. in the Order's operations," Fred answered promptly.

Ginny started to laugh, until she saw Fred's earnest expression, and realised that for once, he wasn't having her on at all. She gaped at him. "You're serious, aren't you? You mean on missions and things?"

"Of course."

"That's a mad idea!" she scoffed.

"Wouldn't be one of our ideas if it wasn't," Fred shrugged. Seeing her incredulity, he added, "We only mean marginally, of course. Doing things like stakeouts, talking to the right bartender or shopkeeper, the like."

"The Order's never going to agree to this," Ginny argued. "They're not going to brief non-members on missions, let alone send them out on them."

"Who said anything about the D.A. members being told what they're doing stakeouts for?" Fred asked in a challenging voice. "We're not idiots, we know we can't go telling every D.A. member details about the Order's work… or that the Order even exists, for that matter…"

"Am I hearing right?" came George's voice from the stairs, and he appeared in the sitting room a moment later. "Do I detect scepticism in my dangerous and gutsy sister?" He wagged a finger at her, and said in a long-suffering tone, "Ginny, Ginny, Ginny. I'm beginning to think that you don't agree with this."

Ginny only glared at him.

"Don't worry," Fred added, "the Order will agree to this if they know what's sensible. This way, we can filter out the D.A. and work out who is ready to be part of the Order and who isn't."

Ginny had to admit that this almost made sense, but if she had reservations before, she definitely was cautious now. She knew it wasn't fair to the members of Dumbledore's Army to involve them in something this serious and yet keep them hidden out of sight, simply following the typical Defence Against the Dark Arts curriculum, but not truly preparing them for the real fight; after all, the notion of the D.A. really being a fun teenage rebellion, and not truly being about making a stand, was the reason she and Neville had been so outraged when Harry hadn't wanted to take them with him to the Ministry of Magic when he thought Sirius had been captured by Voldemort. But Ginny also knew that even with those arguments, it would be very difficult to persuade most of the Order to vote in favour of it, especially if it was coming from her or from the twins, and while she had no objections to forming the D.A. behind the Ministry's backs, the very last thing she wanted to do was form the D.A. against the Order as well. The Order had been misguided in the past few months, but she had enough faith in Dumbledore to believe that his letter gave them a new, better direction, and she wanted the new D.A. to be exactly what Tonks hoped for: a secret group training people to fight Voldemort alongside the Order and alongside Harry. This would be a bold move, and she realised that Fred was quite right; the only way this idea had a chance of working was if certain key members of the Order were consulted ahead of time.

Taking Ginny's silence as acceptance, Fred then continued, "Now, that brings us to the second part of our great idea, which I'm sure you will like, although Mum won't."

"Which is what?" she asked curiously.

"Making you a full member of the Order, even though you're not of age yet."

Ginny ruefully shook her head. "That's a nice thought, but once again you'll have a job persuading most of the Order to allow it. I'm not exactly in their favour right now, in case you had forgotten."

"Oh, I think you'll find them more open to it after what happened at the Lovegoods'," George said dismissively. "You won a lot of respect back, holding off those Death Eaters long enough for help to arrive. They know what you can do, and just as importantly that youknow when to send for help. Continue in that vein and they'll be begging you to join once you're old enough anyway."

Ginny couldn't help her gratified smile. "Not that I'm objecting, but how would you justify me joining before I turn seventeen?"

"Because if we're going to pull this D.A. idea off, and if you're going to be the one leading them, then you'll need to know exactly what's going on, even if the rest of the D.A. does not," Fred answered. "But if you're not a sworn member of the Order…"

"… they won't tell me anything," Ginny finished for him. She mulled it over for a moment, and hoped that her feeling more amenable to the idea was because it actually made sense, even if it was a bit mental, and not because she wanted to properly join the fight so badly. She then looked back at Fred. "Anything else I need to know?"

"Nothing so hard to take in," he answered. "But if you'll come back here…"

He led her down the stairs and to a small door in the back corner, and opened. Sunlight and icy air flooded in, and once Ginny's eyes adjusted, she found herself looking at an enclosed alleyway, lit by the rising sun but with no windows and no visible access except the twins' shop. Stepping out and looking around, Ginny dryly remarked. "Charming."

George followed them into the alley, and Fred closed the door. As soon as he did, it seemed to melt out of sight, leaving them trapped within four brick walls, but then Fred drew his wand and tapped a hollow in the bricks, and the door reappeared.

"What's that for?" she asked.

Fred pointed at the other end of the alley. "There's gonna be a hidden door in that wall. We haven't installed it yet, but hopefully by the end of the week it'll be there and working."

"Where will it go?"

"A Muggle flat we've acquired," George answered. He and Fred looked very pleased with themselves. "The flat's Unplottable, and unnoticeable to Muggle eyes as well as most unsuspecting wizards' eyes. After we purchased it, we wiped the previous owner's memory of its existence and removed it from all Muggle records."

"It's a rendezvous point, see," Fred explained. "Bill helped set it up. But the connecting passage is still underway."

"So your disguised back door is hidden from anyone unwanted who somehow comes in the other way," Ginny deduced.

"More as an extra protection while we're still getting the place set up," Fred corrected.

"But what's it all for?"

"It's a good emergency escape for a start," George answered, "and it makes a good hideout for the Order, which for now is what we're telling everyone. But the real reason, of course, is so the D.A. could have a secret rendezvous point should you need to speak in person with any of them. Or if any of them should wish to meet up with an Order member for recruitment."

"Makes sense," Ginny said, looking between the door and the opposite wall in interest. "We'd be able to sneak back here and as far as anyone in the shop knows, we're in the stockroom or basement doing inventory."

"Exactly," Fred said. "If we can get Kingsley to agree to this, the Order will set up a Fidelius Charm around the flat with you or one of us as Secret Keeper." He grinned at Ginny. "So, what do you think?"

Ginny again looked at the alley wall where the connecting door would be installed, and said, "I still think it's a mad idea, although in a brilliant kind of way."

"That's our style," George chimed in.

"I still doubt the Order will agree with some of this," Ginny said. "If any. But I think we might be able to at least run it by them after working out a few kinks." Looking between Fred and George's eager expressions, she finally grinned and nodded. "All right. Let's give it a shot."

"Excellent," beamed Fred. "Now the only problem is getting the Order to hold a vote before Mum finds out what we're up to."

---

"You're telling me that they want my help with their own vendetta?" Harry said incredulously.

Hermione nodded. "The one thing they've been clear about in the past few days is that they bitterly hate Voldemort. If what Grimrook was saying is to be believed, they probably see you as a natural ally. Or they want to contact the Order." She sounded a bit hopeful. "Kingsley would find that welcome news."

Harry gaped at her. "But if that's what this is about, then why didn't they contact Bill? He's been trying to get goblin allies since Voldemort came back. Surely they're aware of that!"

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but then closed it, uncertain what to say.

"That is weird," Ron agreed, "unless they really believe the 'Chosen One' stuff."

There was a long pause. Harry frowned at Ron, but Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "That actually makes sense. If they want revenge and they think Harry's destined to kill Voldemort, I imagine they'd want to be in on it as much as possible."

"Do you think they've been tracking me?" asked Harry, worried. "It would explain what they were doing in Godric's Hollow, if they've been following us since we left the Burrow."

Hermione frowned. "I don't see how they could. They would have had to know ahead of time what you were going to do, and we didn't tell anyone except Ginny what we were planning."

"Ginny would never have betrayed that to anyone," Harry snapped.

"I wasn't suggesting that!" Hermione said defensively.

"Maybe they were waiting for you to show up at your parents' grave, like the Death Eaters were," Ron suggested.

"Maybe," Harry said slowly. "But why is Cerdik Gadlak involved? Grobschmied's vengeance isn't his business."

As he spoke, they heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and froze. But then the footsteps moved in a different direction, and a moment later they heard water running. Hermione relaxed a little. "Look, I'm as confused and worried as you are," she told Harry and Ron quietly, "but whatever they want you involved in, what we do know is that they saved your life. I think the least you can do in return is hear them out."

Harry couldn't argue with this, and he'd be lying to himself if he said he wasn't curious. Whatever Grimrook was so convinced he'd be interested in hearing, Hermione was right that he owed the goblin a lot. Ron's theory that the goblins believed the speculation about him being some sort of "Chosen One" made sense, but at the same time he had a very strong feeling that there was a lot more to it than that. He therefore agreed to at least listen to Grimrook and Grobschmied before risking his health, his security, and his freedom by returning to Grimmauld Place, but this agreement put him in a state of impatience and anxiety as the hours passed. Had it not been for his weakened state, Harry was sure he would have found it difficult to sleep that night.

When he woke the next morning, he could hear it still raining outside. He then glanced at his watch and saw that it was still an hour before the agreed-upon time. When Ron and Hermione came into his room, he saw from their tired eyes that they'd also had a restless night, but in spite of that they looked as resolved as he felt. As Harry prepared himself, he found that for some reason he couldn't even explain to himself, he felt determined to meet with the goblins in a more equal setting than with him in his sick bed. He therefore had Ron help him get dressed, and then had both his friends and Feidlenid help him down the stairs and into the Grimrooks' old sitting room. Like the rest of the house, it looked run down and in need of maintenance, but it also looked a civil enough setting. Harry therefore waited in silence in one of the moth-eaten armchairs, Feidlenid continually on hand in case he needed her, until, at ten o' clock precisely, he heard two loud cracks of Apparation outside, and a moment later the sitting room door opened and the two expected goblins walked into the room.

Grobschmied took off his drenched coat and hung it on a nearby coatrack. As he did, Feidlenid moved for the door, muttering something to him in Gobbledegook before saying in English, "I shall be in the kitchen."

Grobschmied thanked her, and she left the room. He then looked at Harry calmly. "Mr Potter," he greeted. Without waiting for Harry to return his greeting, he said, "I'm glad to see you're improving."

"I can make it down the stairs," Harry acknowledged. "It's progress."

He did feel worn out from the effort, but he also refused to show that to Grobschmied or Grirmook, who had just finished hanging up his own coat, and had chosen a seat across the room from Harry. His uncle remained standing. For a moment there was an awkward silence. Then Grobschmied finally said, "Well, I'm here. What do you want to know?"

Harry didn't allow himself to show any surprise at the directness of the question. Choosing to be equally direct, he asked, "Were you in Godric's Hollow because I was?"

He noticed that Grimrook looked a little uneasy, but Grobschmied, remaining cool and collected, simply answered, "Yes."

Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, before asking, "And how did you know I was there?"

"We needed to talk to you," Grobschmied answered, "but not in a place where either the Order of the Phoenix or the Ministry of Magic could learn we had contacted you, let alone what we had contacted you about. And we didn't think Gringotts safe enough, because not all the goblins there are friends to us, or to you." He glanced at Grimrook, who nodded firmly, and then continued, "It had to be somewhere we were certain nobody would overhear or observe us. So we needed to catch at a moment when you weren't with the Order or anywhere near the Ministry, and the only way to do that was to know exactly where you were every hour of every day. So when you visited Gringotts last month, Rok placed a tracing spell on your wand when you handed it to him for the security check."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked at Grimrook sharply. He shrugged. "It was the one thing you were absolutely certain to have with you at all times. We knew you were in Hogsmeade somewhere, and we knew when you escaped to Godric's Hollow."

Harry glanced warily at Ron and Hermione, before he slowly asked, "And why did you want to talk to me so badly?"

He could tell, from the way Grobschmied tensed, that they seemed to have reached a crucial moment. The goblin seemed to be wavering on a decision. He then reached into his pocket, and withdrew a folded sheet of paper. Looking at Harry urgently, Grobschmied handed it to him. "Because of this."

Harry unfolded the page, which appeared to be a letter. Glancing at the signature, Harry gasped in shock. "You were in contact with Dumbledore?"

The goblin nodded. "I wrote a letter to him some time ago, but wasn't able to deliver it until about a week before he died. When I heard about his murder I thought I'd have to proceed alone, without the information I so desperately needed. But then, a couple of weeks after his death, his phoenix delivered this to me." He observed Harry, Ron, and Hermione's stunned expressions, and said, "Read it out loud, Mr Potter. This is something you'll all want to hear."

Harry swallowed, and looked down at the letter. Taking a deep breath, he read:

Dear Mr Grobschmied,

I must confess that I was quite pleased when I found your letter today. I wondered when you would approach me about this matter. Your tale is quite a fascinating one, but it is chiefly your honesty that has earned my trust. Rest assured, however, that action is being taken, and your experience may help uncover vital information. The war is not going well, as you know, but I now confess that dark forces have already penetrated the walls of Hogwarts School. If all goes as I expect it will, soon my responsibilities will pass elsewhere.

For that reason, I have imparted my knowledge to a trusted protégé. I will not disclose their name now, but from what I understand of you and your past, I have no doubt that you will be able to guess before long. They will likely need the knowledge and insights you yourself have gathered to succeed in their work, and so I hope you remain willing to act as an ally. I close with my condolences about your family, as belated as they are.

Yours sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Harry looked back at Grobschmied, and sat up straighter in his eagerness. "What did you write to him about?"

"I will answer that," Grobschmied said slowly, "but first I want to make something clear. You see that Dumbledore trusted me. I was as surprised by that as you are, especially since it seems he was somehow aware that I too have a history with Voldemort. But I'm grateful that I had his confidence, because you have an interest in listening to us. We may come from different backgrounds, Mr Potter, but I can promise you that we are on the same side. We know that Voldemort is slowly but surely infiltrating the Ministry of Magic. We know that Scrimgeour will soon be a mere figurehead if nothing is done. And there will be no justice or rights for goblins in a Death Eater system, any more than there would be for Muggle-borns."

"Are the goblins going to fight?" asked Hermione eagerly.

Grobschmied and Grimrook looked at each other with nearly identical grimaces. Then Grimrook explained, "It's very complicated. The Tylwthteg High Council, the Sixteen in particular, is currently on a tight rope between their own politics, the Death Eaters, and the Ministry, as well as some radical goblin political factions that have come out of the woodwork in recent years. While few goblins are inclined to join the Death Eaters, both they and the Ministry are keeping a very close eye on the Council. The Ministry fears a goblin uprising, even one directed against the Death Eaters. They will not tolerate it unless the goblins completely submit to the Ministry's command."

"And, from what I understand," added Grobschmied, "many in the Council are not willing to accept the necessity of goblins taking action at the present time. There are, however, those of us who are willing to work in secret, outside the Council."

"And Cerdik Gadlak is one of them?" asked Hermione.

Grobschmied nodded. "I wondered when you'd ask about him. Cerdik is a very old friend of mine. Laying aside his sympathy for my losses, the very nature of his position means that he especially is under pressure from all fronts. As the owner and proprietor of Gringotts, he stands at the very centre of the overlap between British wizardry and the Tylwthteg nation. And he is no fool. He knows from experience that the Death Eaters will do everything they can to wrest control of magical economy from the goblins. He could lose his position, his fortune, and possibly even his life if the Death Eaters take over magical Britain."

He looked between Harry, Ron, and Hermione, possibly hoping for any sign of their growing trust, but when they simply stared at him, he continued, "Cerdik has been campaigning for Tylwthteg to take a stand against the Death Eaters for months. Unfortunately, there is a growing inclination in the Council of Sixteen to view this war as a purely wizard's conflict. When he found both his fellow councilmen and public opinion turning against him, he finally decided to take action himself. So he and his son got together with me and my nephew, and we began making plans." He looked at Harry with a curiously determined gaze. "You already know, of course, that my own family has experienced terrible losses directly at Voldemort's hands, and you have correctly guessed that these deaths were not the result of random attacks. I swore long ago that he would pay dearly for it, and I hold true to that oath. Voldemort is our target, and we are going to do our part to bring him down. I wish to aide you in this endeavour, to bring a permanent end to an evil that destroyed my family and will do all that and worse to countless others, human or goblin."

Harry stared at him. Surely Grobschmied's motives couldn't be so simple. Frowning, he cautiously pointed out, "You could have gone to the Order instead of going to all this trouble. They've been seeking goblin allies for years. Surely your friend Gadlak would have told you that. Why use such underhanded means to contact me personally, and in such secrecy?"

"Don't insult our intelligence, Mr Potter," Grobschmied said impatiently. "You are the protégé Dumbledore trusted. You know you are. I sought you out because prophecy or no, it is clear that you are bound to the Dark Lord, and he to you."

"Even if I am, my task is too important and too dangerous for me to accept the assistance of someone I hardly know," Harry argued. "I'm glad that at least some goblins finally seem to be taking a stand, but"—

"Not only can you accept our offer," Grimrook interrupted, sounding agitated, "but you must. Did you not hear my uncle when he told you he has his own history with Voldemort? Did it not occur to you that we may offer more than a vengeful hand? You will need all the help you can get to gain an advantage over Voldemort."

"I know his weakness!" Harry snapped defensively.

"That does not mean you are prepared to withstand everything he has at his fingertips," Grobschmied said firmly. "What happened at Godric's Hollow is proof of that."

Harry wanted to retort, but he was unable to think of a reply to this. He had to admit that the goblin had a point. Seeing that he was free to go on, Grobschmied said in a gentler voice, "We've had plenty of time to observe you three for the past few weeks. You've demonstrated that you can fight Death Eaters, and you clearly have some skill in protective enchantments and in stealth. The sorcerer who appeared in Godric's Hollow was new and unexpected, but that's a discussion for another time. Voldemort himself, however, is not like other wizards. He won't be brought down easily. It's been evident to me ever since his return that it would take more than a mere Killing Curse or similar to kill him."

At this, Harry shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Ron and Hermione too looked nervous.

"That is why I contacted you, Potter," Grobschmied said, and Harry thought he'd never seen anyone look so serious as he did now. "You say you know Voldemort's weakness, but I believe you actually mean his weaknesses. I must now ask how you plan on locating and destroying them, since we share this goal."

Harry's jaw dropped. "You know about the Horcruxes?"

Grobschmied nodded grimly. "I made a very educated guess, and Dumbledore's letter all but confirmed it."

"But how did you figure it out?" whispered Hermione, her eyes wide.

"It's rather a long story." Eyeing Harry, he added, "but I suppose you're not going to be going anywhere for a while, are you? Let's see… how to begin…." Grobschmied glanced around, and chose a spot on the sofa next to Grimrook. Once he was seated, he looked aside, a reminiscent expression spreading over his face. After a few moments thought, he finally inhaled deeply, and thus began: "Dumbledore was not the only person watching Voldemort for the past few decades. I do not have as much knowledge of Tom Riddle's school years as Dumbledore must have. I was never his teacher, nor did I ever meet him until he took up a job at Borgin and Burkes. But that is where it starts for me. I am prepared to tell you my whole history, under the influence of Veritaserum if that's what it takes for you to believe me."

Harry noticed that Grobschmied was looking at Ron in particular as he said this, and saw that the latter, though a little pale with surprise at all that the goblin had said, looked somewhat satisfied at this declaration.

"Did you work at Gringotts?" asked Hermione.

Grobschmied nodded. "I was then a part-time stockbroker who worked with Burke's account, and also the finances of some of his employees. Riddle was among them. He seemed as normal as any other wizard we worked with at Gringotts, albeit somewhat poor, but there was something about him that unsettled me." His ears twitched, and he looked aside contemplatively for a moment, before he continued, "Words do not do the feeling justice. I was uncomfortable around him, especially in matters concerning the relics and artefacts he sometimes brought for me to put in Burke's vault. He had a unique talent for acquiring extraordinary things from people at astonishingly low prices. I found it odd, and even suspect.

"I don't know if it was simply the instinctive suspicion that goblins are often raised with concerning human wizards and money, but if it was, my discomfort proved fruitful." His brow furrowed, and he added, "Coincidentally, I also was the accountant for Hepzibah Smith."

This was almost as surprising as Grobschmied's knowledge of the Horcruxes, and it must have shown on Harry's face, because the elderly goblin frowned at him for a moment, and said, "I see that you know who I refer to. That Madam Smith had a collection of relics was common knowledge, so when she told me that Burke had sent Riddle to ask her about one of them, I was not surprised. I was, however, very surprised when she told me she also showed Riddle the Hufflepuff cup and Slytherin's locket. By then Riddle's reputation was very poor at Gringotts, and I was sure he would attempt to swindle her of her two most valuable treasures, as he had many others, so I went to her house to warn her about him, and offer to remove the locket and cup to her vault." Grobschmied scowled bitterly. "But Riddle got there first."

With a jolt, Harry suddenly realised who Benedict Grobschmied must be. His words lined up far too well with those of A. Black in the newer memory that Dumbledore had left for him. Before Grobschmied could continue, Harry blurted out, "You are the goblin who was initially blamed for her murder!"

It was Grobschmied's turn to look astonished. "That never went beyond the Auror office," he said. "How did you learn of it?"

Glancing at Ron and Hermione, Harry hurriedly told Grobschmied about Dumbledore's interview at St. Mungo's. "He was visiting a member of the Black family, a great-uncle of Sirius's, I think he said," Harry said.

"That would have been Alphard Black," Grobschmied said, looking pleased. "He was an assistant accountant at Gringotts at the time of Madam Smith's death. I remember Cerdik mentioning that Dumbledore had visited him shortly before he died, though he didn't know why. Yes, he was talking about me." His smile faded. "When I found her body, I alerted the Ministry of Magic at once. But when they arrived to investigate, they saw only a dead witch, a senile house-elf, and a goblin. They immediately suspected that I was responsible, especially after her family found that the cup and locket were gone. As you probably know, the imbeciles ultimately blamed Hokey, but not until after they ruled me out as a suspect, and that was not for some weeks at least." He shook his head bitterly. "Alphard tried to direct their attention to Riddle, but the idea that a former star student at Hogwarts, earning his own way, would kill a respectable pureblood witch he had no connection to was laughable to them. It became clear that I needed proof against Riddle to exonerate myself. My friend Cerdik hadn't inherited control of Gringotts yet, but he held a high enough rank that he could make some discreet inquiries. Hoping to find evidence, he sent Alphard to Borgin and Burke's to see if the locket and cup were there, only to find that not only were they not there, and never had been, but that Riddle had just quit his job. At that point, it was clear that nothing I or Cerdik or Alphard said would point the Aurors in the right direction. Any evidence they had against me was purely circumstantial, not enough to arrest me, but I didn't dare wait for them to find anything they thought damning. And every moment's delay would make it harder to locate Riddle."

"So you chose to act," Harry surmised.

"Yes. Cerdik had access to Burke's banking records and with his help, we were able to discover Riddle's London address. It seemed prudent for me to keep out of sight, so my brother Laertes went to scope out the area. It seems he did so barely in time, for it was only a couple of hours before Riddle left London, and Britain." Grimacing slightly, Grobschmied added, "You must understand that at the time I was completely uncertain of my future. The Aurors were investigating me, and the wizard I was certain was the actual killer appeared to have fled the country. I could not know how long this would go on, if I was facing a lifetime in hiding or an unjust imprisonment in Azkaban. And in matters of conflict between goblins and humans, the goblins of Tylwthteg have almost no recourse. Our nation has been a puppet state for several hundred years. They have no power to supersede or override the Ministry. In my mind, there was only one way forward. Therefore, using money Cerdik lent us, Laertes and I set off after Riddle, determined to capture him or at least obtain concrete evidence against him. We would have trailed him to the ends of the earth if we had to."

"And you succeeded?" Harry asked, astounded. "No one knew what became of him after that, not until after he returned! Not even Dumbledore had more than theories!"

"It wasn't as simple as that," Grobschmied said, though he looked a little pleased with himself. "At first, thanks to Laertes' quick thinking, we were able to track Riddle directly, in much the same way Rok did you, but he, of course, was a very slippery figure. At the time, the war in Europe, though nearing its end, was still going." As he spoke, something in his voice boded ill. "Riddle started traveling through Germany, which confused us, but we continued to pursue him nonetheless. At the time, we thought he intended to sell the locket and cup to obtain gold for himself, so we couldn't understand why he'd think he could find anyone in an active war zone who could purchase the artefacts for their true value. It had not occurred to us that wealth was not his goal. It was not yet obvious that he might have other, more nefarious purposes."

"Why not?" asked Ron. "It's a bit of a leap, going from grifting to murder."

Grobschmied shook his head dismissively. "He was hardly the first con artist or swindler turned killer, and he certainly wasn't the last. At the time, we had no reason to think this was anything more. Remember, I do not share Dumbledore's history with him. The first I ever knew of Tom Riddle was when Burke hired him. Without any kind of warning to the true danger, we continued to follow him." A dark look crossed his face. "What we didn't realise was that at some point he'd figured out there was a tracing spell on him. A goblin tracing spell." Hermione made a sudden noise of sympathy, but Grobschmied ignored her and continued, "As far as I could tell, he couldn't initially find a way to negate it, so his discovery wasn't immediately apparent to us. At the time, Grindelwald's Triskelions had not yet surrendered, and were still pushing their campaign to exterminate what they viewed as the dregs of German magical society, including goblins. I suppose Riddle had hoped that by traveling through Germany the Triskelions would catch us. Whatever he intended at first, though, one day he entered into Bamberg, on a day when it was clear that the Americans were about to advance. It seemed enormously risky, both on his part and on ours, but we followed." He closed his eyes. "Laertes went off to try to find out how close the Americans were. I don't know exactly what happened, if he made some mistake that alerted Riddle to his presence, or if he picked up on Riddle's trail and went after him, only to find Riddle waiting for him. Either way, it was a trap."

"And Riddle killed him?" asked Harry.

Grobschmied was quiet for a moment, his grief evident. "Yes. I saw it." He clenched his fists angrily. "And I didn't help him. Riddle's fury and his cruelty caught me off guard. I thought I was prepared to confront him, but when the moment came, I couldn't move. I was too bloody scared."

"I'm sorry," Harry said quietly, and he meant it.

Grobschmied said nothing. Grimrook looked at his uncle in concern, but after a few minutes, Grobschmied's fists relaxed. "At that point," he went on, " it was no longer about exonerating myself. I no longer cared. So I continued to hunt him alone, and this time, I was determined, I wouldn't lose nerve. I wanted to find Riddle and make him pay for what he had done."

"But wouldn't he have noticed someone was still tracing him?" asked Hermione.

"As it was Laertes who cast the tracing spell, Riddle's killing him negated it," Grobschmied said grimly. "Though I witnessed his murder, Riddle hadn't seen me watching. Laertes also managed to cover for me right before Riddle killed him, making him think that he acted alone. So in a way, Laertes' murder was Riddle's own mistake. Riddle thought he could continue unhindered, with no idea that someone was still after him. As long as I was more careful, I could continue to pursue him undetected."

Confused, Harry interrupted, "But with the tracing spell gone…"

"I wasn't able to track him directly anymore," Grobschmied said, "but after a while, once the war ended, I was able to pick up on his trail."

"How?"

"Mostly by listening for the right news. It was difficult, owing to the chaos following the war, but Riddle left a trail of murder and bloodshed, and anywhere I heard there was a series of unexplained deaths, I was there immediately. Some were unconnected with Riddle, but others I had no doubt were his doing. A man of his description would appear in a wizarding settlement of Bucharest, or a village in Albania, and just as suddenly he would be gone, followed by a list of the dead." Grobschmied's expression darkened even further as he spoke. "To say that the crimes he committed were heinous is a categorical understatement. The more I saw, the more I realised that this was no longer a trivial matter of greed and theft, if it ever was. I finally sensed it, though I didn't fully understand yet. This wasn't merely a teenage swindler turned killer. This was much, much worse, and it had to be stopped."

"Why didn't you alert local wizard authorities?" asked Hermione.

"I tried to. Unfortunately, local magical governments at the time were in no position to take real action." Grobschmied shook his head, looking bitter. "They were completely swamped by the mess left by the wars against Hitler and Grindelwald, and rather than admit that a new Dark wizard had appeared, they did everything in their power to cover it up. Anything that couldn't be dismissed as an accident, they attributed to escaped followers of Grindelwald, or else to Red Caps and Erklings; not totally unbelievable, given how many refugees, Muggle and magical, were killed by both during that time."

Ron frowned. "I thought the last known Erkling attack was some German kid who killed it with his dad's cauldron."

Grimrook laughed humourlessly. "You mean that little bit about Bruno Schmidt in Fantastic Beasts? That was published in the 1920s, Mr. Weasley. The information in that book has been outdated for nearly eighty years. You'll hardly find any mention there of Red Cap and Erkling activity during the '40s, or the fact that the new German Ministry of Magic was in no position to actually do anything about it, not in the immediate aftermath of Grindelwald's downfall."

"But it does illustrate the chaos in Central and Eastern Europe at that time, and how easily Tom Riddle took advantage of it," Grobschmied said thoughtfully. "There were, of course, those who had caught on to what was really happening, and they tried to find Riddle, but they usually ended up dead. I don't think Riddle ever really knew of my own involvement, or he would have come after me long ago, but since I survived and I knew who was doing it, I felt it had become my responsibility to try to end it."

"How long did this go on?" asked Harry, now thoroughly engrossed.

"A few years," Grobschmied answered. "But eventually I lost track of him completely and had no choice but to return to Britain to await further news. By then, as Cerdik informed me, Madam Smith's death had been attributed to her elf, and the case had been closed, leaving me free to return without fear of arrest. However, that was not before I began to observe a transformation in Riddle, whether by the rare glimpses I myself obtained, or by the witnesses scattered across eastern Europe, an alteration the likes of which I had never seen before. He was becoming less human and increasingly… lych, more like an Inferius than a living being. At the time, I didn't fully understand what I was seeing, but I knew he was doing something to himself that was unnatural and evil."

They were quiet for a moment, as Harry processed all that Grobschmied had told him. Then Ron finally broke the silence by asking, "So when did you hear about him again?"

"When everyone else did; when he returned to Britain as Lord Voldemort. I didn't make the connection between Voldemort and Riddle until the day of his most infamous attack, about twenty-eight years ago, when the Death Eaters attacked Diagon Alley. I caught a glimpse of him that day, and recognised him as the Dark wizard who had butchered dozens of people in war-torn Europe. My pursuit of revenge had never fully died, and finally, after years knowing nothing, my quarry had resurfaced. But hunting him down was no longer so simple. Not knowing who to contact, or how to find Voldemort, I didn't know how to proceed. And to make matters worse…"

Grobschmied's voice died away. He seemed to have withdrawn into himself, his face grim, simply staring ahead. Looking at his uncle in concern, Grimrook interjected, "To make matters worse, he unexpectedly came after my parents." His voice quivered in anger. "I had just come of age and moved out. Cecilia was still a child, but fortunately she wasn't in the house. But my grandparents were visiting at the time, and Voldemort killed them too."

Harry looked between them, his mind racing. "You said you didn't know why he killed them."

"I wasn't lying," Grobschmied muttered, still staring into space. "I genuinely have no idea. At first I thought it was because of me, that perhaps Voldemort had discovered that a second goblin had been following him during those years abroad, and had somehow uncovered the identity of that goblin… but when he did not come after me in the weeks—and years—following, it became clear that something else prompted their murders."

"But by then, as we've said, this went way beyond the murder of a few family members and the theft of a couple of relics," Grimrook said quietly. "We were powerless. Over the years, he killed many, many people, magic and non-magic, and Voldemort continually eluded capture. I was still quite young, and my uncle had no idea where to start."

There was a long, strained silence. Then Hermione hesitantly said, "Mr Grobschmied, if I may ask, when did you realise that Voldemort had been making Horcruxes?"

"Recently, to tell you the truth." Grobschmied finally looked up and pointed at Harry. "When Voldemort murdered your family and lost his powers, I, like most people, assumed he had finally died. But then Death Eater activity began again three years ago, the Dark Mark reappeared, and I became uneasy. Because of my own experience with Riddle, when you and Dumbledore announced his return only a few months later, I instantly knew it to be the truth, and I began doing extensive research to figure out how he had survived. And that, Miss Granger, is when I began to piece it together. It took some time to find the right tomes, but I finally learned enough, recalled enough, to comprehend that Riddle had made at least one Horcrux, probably more. It was the only possible explanation for his transformation and his survival."

"What did you do?" asked Hermione.

"I gathered my remaining friends and began preparing to take action. Cerdik started to watch Gringotts accounts belonging to known or suspected Death Eaters like the Malfoys and the Lestranges. We couldn't do anything while Fudge was Minister of Magic, but we waited. When we heard that Voldemort moved out into the open, Cerdik made contact with the Auror office, and with their approval he froze the assets of all known Death Eaters."

"Is that why it's taking them so long to finalise their plans for the Ministry?" asked Harry.

Grobschmied nodded. "It's very difficult to bribe people, or bail them out, when you no longer have access to your fortune. The fact that the Death Eaters can still function as well as they do indicates that they still have some source of revenue somewhere, though not enough for them to accomplish their goals with the expediency they would like. Unfortunately, this resulted in the murder of several Gringotts employees, and Cerdik's taking this initiative gave his opponents in the Council of Sixteen grounds to claim that he provoked their deaths, causing any anger in Tylwthteg to direct towards the Gadlaks more than towards the Death Eaters."

"But why did it take you so long to approach Dumbledore?"

"Well, for a very long time I wasn't aware that Dumbledore had his own history with Voldemort. Remember, I knew nothing of Tom Riddle before his employment at Borgin and Burkes. During the war, I thought Voldemort's vendetta against Dumbledore had more to do with the Order of the Phoenix, and Dumbledore, given his own experiences with Grindelwald, was probably the one wizard in Britain with the skill and guts to really stand and fight. After I began to suspect that Voldemort had made Horcruxes, I wasn't sure where to start, and I wasn't sure if anyone else, Dumbledore included, was aware of how far Voldemort had gone. That being said, whether they did or not, someone with experience fighting Voldemort needed to know what I had concluded, but getting in touch with Dumbledore was not so easy. At first it was because it would have been imprudent for me or Cerdik to appear too close to him."

Hermione's face lit with understanding, but Ron indignantly said, "What was so bad about being close to Dumbledore?"

Exasperated, Hermione cut in, "Ron, at the time the Ministry was trying to silence anyone who believed Voldemort had returned. How do you think they would have reacted if they'd found out that Gadlak and his friends believed it and were trying to side with Dumbledore? It would have made things a million times worse, both for Dumbledore and for the goblins."

Ron closed his mouth, looking rather mollified.

"I tried harder to contact Dumbledore when the Ministry acknowledged Voldemort's return, but at the same time, they were placing goblins under greater scrutiny, so we had to tread carefully. Scrimgeour was also dogging Dumbledore, not to mention it was rather difficult to get in contact with him at that time, unless he himself sought it. Contacting him by owl post posed far too great a risk, in case the owl was intercepted, and all other normal methods were too closely watched by the Ministry; the magical protections around Hogwarts were too impenetrable, making it almost impossible for me to arrange a secret face-to-face interview with Dumbledore the way I intended with you. And Dumbledore was often not present at Hogwarts during that time anyway."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione all nodded, remembering how Dumbledore had often disappeared for weeks at a time during the past year.

"As you saw, I finally managed it," Grobschmied continued. "But then he died, and that left us with only one other person who would know anything about Voldemort's background and the Horcruxes, as Dumbledore's letter indicated." He threw Harry a meaningful look. "We are both determined to destroy Voldemort, Mr. Potter, and we both know about the Horcruxes. You have Dumbledore's research and your own history with him. I have my own experience. Both of us might have valuable information which might be useful in tracking the Horcruxes down. It is in your interest, and mine, that we help each other."

As Grobschmied spoke, Harry suddenly understood what Grimrook had meant, when he said they would have no choice but to listen, and even ally themselves with Grobschmied. Dumbledore had figured it out first, had understood what the diary was and what the events in the Chamber of Secrets had meant, long before anyone else had, and had begun his investigation and subsequent search from that moment on. But there had been gaps in Dumbledore's knowledge, the unknown identity and location of Voldemort's last Horcrux, something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's; and all of Tom Riddle's activities between the death of Hepzibah Smith and his return to Britain under the assumed identity of Lord Voldemort. But quite possibly, Harry realised, Benedict Grobschmied's knowledge could fill in these gaps, if he could afford to take the risk of trusting the goblin.

He swallowed, uncertain what to say. Ron, however, asked, "What do you propose, then?"

Grobschmied looked rather pleased at the question. "We hope Cerdik will eventually succeed in stirring other goblins into taking a stand against the Death Eaters. A goblin uprising would do a lot of damage to them. But it is you, Mr Potter, that Voldemort considers to be the greatest personal threat. While Dumbledore told you about the Horcruxes, however, that knowledge will not protect you from the Death Eaters or Voldemort's other allies. We've had ample time to observe you since you left the Order. You are a fine duelist, and can hold your own against Death Eaters, but in light of the events at Godric's Hollow, you need more advanced training. You also need a base of operations, so you don't waste time and resources just by being on the move all the time."

"So you're offering that, as well as to share information," Harry said.

He saw Grobschmied's ears perk. "We cannot train you in most magical skills," he admitted. "Human magic is substantially different from goblin magic, so I'm afraid you three will have to develop those skills on your own. We can, however, train you in non-magical skills." Seeing their confusion, he clarified, "Physical attack, I mean. Thanks to their immaculate healing draughts Cecilia and Feidlenid say you'll make a full recovery, which is fortunate because Rok and I have studied all sorts of non-magical skills and tactics over the years, which, I am certain, would prove as useful to you as it has to us. We also have observed the Death Eaters and we think that if we can get enough people fighting, we can turn their own tactics against them." He then looked at Harry in particular and said candidly, "Voldemort fears you. His continual attempts to kill you show it. You have it well within your potential to make his fear fully justified."

"In short, you propose transforming me into Voldemort's deadliest enemy," Harry said coolly.

The goblin blinked. "Your words, not mine."

Indignation rose up in Harry; he was too strongly reminded of the Order trying to hide him away because of the prophecy, and Scrimgeour trying to make him a poster boy for the Ministry. Tired of being used in this way, he bit out, "I am not a weapon, Mr Grobschmied. I will not be a tool for the goblins, for the Ministry, or for anyone. This must be on my terms, not yours."

The room fell into shocked silence. Then, to everyone's surprise, Grobschmied smiled almost triumphantly.

"Very good," he said in a voice rather like a teacher complimenting a pupil.

Harry blinked. "Sorry?"

Grobschmied's smile widened. "This is why you will be Voldemort's deadliest enemy, Harry Potter: because you will fight him, not as the Boy Who Lived, or as the Chosen One, but as Harry Potter. You will not bend to the image the Wizarding public has set forth for you, but you will show Voldemort who you are." Leaning forward and meeting Harry's eyes, he said firmly, "So it's your decision to determine that, and what happens next. Who are you in all this, Harry Potter? And what are you going to do about it?"

If Harry was astonished before, that feeling was nothing to how he felt now. If he could trust this goblin who had saved his life, then Harry realised that there was an opportunity before him, which he never would have obtained otherwise. Harry had learned during his time in the Wizarding World to be wary of goblins. Hagrid's warning rang clear in his head: Never mess with goblins. But Voldemort had done just that. His malevolent deeds had provoked the enraged remnants of one destroyed goblin family into action. He knew as he looked at the two goblins before him, that with or without his help, Benedict Grobschmied and Rok Grimrook were dead set on pursuing Voldemort until either they or he was dead. They weren't motivated by prophecy any more than Harry truly was. Everyone in the room wanted Voldemort dead, knew what killing him entailed, and wanted some part in bringing it about. Dumbledore's words came back to him clearly, in that moment: Do not forgo opportunities for allies. You are not alone in this. Had Dumbledore known about Grobschmied's intentions, and in turn intended for Harry to accept the goblin's offer? Was this what he had meant in his final instructions for Harry, written in a letter he'd left in the custodianship of Rok Grimrook, no less?

But at the same time, while Dumbledore had exhorted him not to reject the possibility of finding allies, he also had warned Harry against freely trusting people, no matter how good their intentions. It would only take one betrayal, one captured person breaking either to torture or to Legilimency, one person spotted in the wrong place, one word in the wrong place. You cannot risk it. These words also came back to Harry clearly in that moment, and as he looked back at all Scrimgeour's unfulfilled promises of taking the fight to Voldemort, and at all his attempts to rope Harry into his own political machinations, at the Order's misguided actions over the past summer, and Snape's betrayal, he still found himself extremely hesitant about forming any kind of alliance with anyone, human, goblin or otherwise, until he was completely and totally confident that he could trust them.

---

Author's note:

When determining Ginny's salary, I used an exchange rate provided by Harry Potter Wiki (as of a few months ago), and determined that her salary is about £11.31 / $15.55 per hour. I think in the mid 1990s this would have been a fairly generous starting wage for an underage, part-time worker, which is why Ginny is so astonished by it. I think Fred and George can afford it, though.

Since I'm on the subject of money, this is something I've thought about quite a lot while writing and planning this story. Something I've noticed that J.K. Rowling doesn't address much in the original books are money, resources and logistics, all of which ought to be considered when writing about war or a resistance movement. The first half of this chapter begins to address that. Harry needs safe access to his money and any other resources, and a place he can safely operate from in order to work effectively, otherwise he'd end up like he does in Book 7, living off the land and more focused on finding food and not getting caught than on his actual mission. I've actually always thought it was kind of strange that in Books 6 and 7, Dumbledore or Lupin or everyone in the Order failed to prepare Harry for something like that, particularly in the early chapters of Book 7, when the Order knows that the Ministry is being infiltrated and that its downfall will come sooner rather than later. I try to address that problem better, although this time I have Harry getting help from an entirely different group, who are in fact even more equipped to handle something like this.

Grobschmied's story has gone through multiple revisions since the earliest draft I ever posted on the internet. In the earliest draft, the person Grobschmied was trying to avenge was Hepzibah Smith, but over time I decided he would have far greater motive to hunt down Voldemort if this were far more personal than the death of his bank client (although in the original draft, she also was a friend of his). So I introduced the background character of Laertes Grobschmied, as well as the significantly more mysterious murders of Grobschmied's sister, brother-in-law, and parents. This also allowed me to begin to formulate some of the plot of Anzem Gauntlets, as these murders will be more important later.

Incidentally, in Book 5, Mr. Weasley mentions that Voldemort murdered a goblin family somewhere near Nottingham during the first war. In Penumbra, that was Grobschmied's family (in case I haven't mentioned it in the text yet, Aelyn Dionn is in Nottinghamshire).