A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone! Hope you're all having a splendid holiday!

Chapter Ten
Councilgoblins and Fireworks

"Freedom is a heavy load, a great and strange burden for the spirit to undertake. It is not easy. It is not a gift given, but a choice made, and the choice may be a hard one. The road goes upward towards the light; but the laden traveler may never reach the end of it."
—Ursula K. Le Guin, "The Tombs of Atuan"

Ginny ground her teeth as she folded the newspaper, bewitched so the pictures would stop moving while Muggles were around, unsure if she felt more indignant or worried. She had gone to work before the morning Prophet had arrived at Grimmauld Place, but the moment she stepped into her brothers' shop, Fred pulled her into the back room and warned her to put on her disguise clip, and not take it off for the rest of the day. As soon as she saw the article, she understood. The moment she began her shift in the shop as "Gwen", she realised that she probably would remain Gwen in public for the next week, or even the next few weeks. People kept looking at the twins and talking in hushed voices, and outside, she could see people reading the newspaper and talking about it with expressions ranging from outraged, to shocked, to downright fearful. An hour before her lunch break, one deranged witch even stormed into the shop, her wand drawn, shrieking that the Weasleys must have driven "our saviour" away. It was all Ginny could do not to give herself away and Bat-Bogey the madwoman, but there was no need: it turned out that throwing jinxes in a magical prank and joke shop wasn't the best idea. No one was quite sure how it happened, but a few seconds later Diagon Alley shoppers watched in awe as an oversized purple platypus walking on two short legs waddled out into the street, trying to squawk angrily but instead emitting the Hogwarts school song every time it opened its bill, and shedding a surprising amount of hair all over the street. While the twins, the MLE agents on patrol, and the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad sorted out the mess, Fred insisted that Ginny use the commotion to make a quick and quiet exit.

She stuffed the newspaper in her bag and checked her watch for what was probably the hundredth time, sighing in mild exasperation. Neville was late. Though he had trouble remembering things sometimes, she seriously doubted he would have forgotten something as important as this meeting, but she supposed it was possible that his grandmother held him up in some way. Still, she needed to order soon, or they wouldn't have much time left before she had to return to the shop, although she supposed that the aftermath of the platypus-woman might have halted business for a while, leaving her with extra time.

One of the waiters approached her and asked, "Shall I get you something to drink while you wait, miss?"

Ginny shook her head. "I'll order when he arrives, thank you."

The waiter nodded sullenly and stalked away. Ginny looked at her watch yet again, wishing she had some means of sending a message to Neville that didn't require her wand, but there was nothing to do but wait. To occupy herself, she looked at the odd coins and pieces of paper that she'd gotten exchanged at Gringotts a few days before, and silently reviewed their different values. Though the goblin at the desk had explained to her how Muggle money worked, she still felt vaguely confused by the system, and she didn't want to make a fool of herself. She supposed that part of the problem might merely have been the simplicity of it: one hundred pence to a pound, and that was it. There was also the confusion from getting the coins straight, and precisely how much a pound was to a Galleon. The prices on the Muggle shops made their products look more expensive than they really were.

Finally, she heard the café door open and looked up to see Neville nervously step in, and she almost laughed out loud as she saw him clumsily dressed in a bright yellow suit coat, a pink tie, and sky-blue bike shorts with red women's cowboy boots. The waiters and several other people stared at him, and the one who had offered Ginny a drink earlier glanced at her, his brow furrowed. She raised her eyebrows at him and nodded, and he moved towards Neville and pointed at Ginny. Neville, not recognising her in the Gwen disguise, looked more confused than ever, but he nonetheless cautiously moved toward Ginny.

"Hi, Neville," she said with false cheer.

Recognising her voice, Neville visibly relaxed. "Merlin, Ginny. You had me scared for a moment there. I don't blame you for coming out like this, though."

"It's dead useful, yeah," Ginny said. As Neville took his seat, she waved the waiter over, who handed them a couple of menus, though Ginny saw him continue to watch them curiously as he moved away. Neville was, without a doubt, the most conspicuous customer in the café, something Ginny thought they would need to rectify the next time. As soon as the waiter was out of earshot, she said in a low voice, "We're going to have to help you learn to dress better in the Muggle world."

"I thought I looked like a Muggle," Neville grumbled. "Gran thought it looked as Muggle as anything they wear. But people have been staring at me since I left the Leaky Cauldron."

"Muggles have tastes too, you know. You wouldn't wear a pink wizard's hat with a set of bright yellow robes, now would you?" Seeing Neville turn a shade of pink, she added, "Though maybe Rita Skeeter would." Neville managed a short laugh at that, but this time it was Ginny's turn to scowl, and in bitter reflection, she added, "If she wasn't an Animagus, it would make her easy to spot, and would probably make all our lives much, much simpler."

Neville fidgeted uncomfortably, and an odd expression crossed his face, as though he wanted to say something, but didn't quite dare to. Ginny watched him for a moment, and then quietly drew her wand under the table and pointed it towards the rest of the café and cast the Muffliato spell. "You read the paper this morning, I take it?"

Neville glanced around apprehensively, and then asked, "Is it safe for you to be working at the shop? I mean, you probably were already a target before, but this makes it worse."

"You too?" Ginny said irritably. "Even Fred and George were reluctant to have me working today, disguised or not, and I bet that if Mum had seen the paper this morning before I headed out, she wouldn't have let me leave the house at all."

"They have a point, you know," Neville told her seriously.

"Yeah, I do know." Ginny met his gaze with equal gravity. "I'm aware of the risk, Neville, and I know you won't believe me, but I do know when something is too risky."

Neville glanced around again. "It's true then? Harry's gone?"

Ginny looked at him closely, trying to discern how much of the article Neville had believed, and how much he had questioned. Then she said carefully, "Neville, I need you to trust me."

"I do trust you," he told her sincerely, "and I trust Harry. That's exactly why I have to ask."

Slightly relieved, Ginny said, "I know how they've made it look, but it isn't like that at all. Amazing how they can get some basic facts right, but twist them to mean something they don't."

He nodded, but he still looked at her tensely. "So what's really going on? I know you, and I know Harry, and I know he wouldn't just desert us, and certainly not for such a stupid reason."

"I'm glad. You had me a bit worried for a moment." She took a deep breath. "Harry did argue with Scrimgeour that day, and he did run away from my parents' house that same night, that is true. But his departure had nothing to do with his disagreement with Scrimgeour." She looked at Neville speculatively for a moment, weighing how much she knew with how much she should tell him; but after a moment's reflection on how much Neville had proven himself over the past couple of years, she decided that he deserved to know at least the basics. "The real reason," she said slowly, "is that Professor Dumbledore left him a mission or task of some kind, and he went underground as soon as he had his Apparation license."

She saw surprise and apprehension flit across Neville's face, but he visibly deflated and nodded. "That sounds more like Harry. Do you ever hear from him?"

Ginny shook her head. "Whatever he's doing, it's so secret that I don't think he's planning on keeping more than minimal contact with any of us until he's finished."

"So that's what you meant when you said you're not really together anymore. Do you know how long he'll be gone?"

Ginny swallowed. This was suddenly painful. "He'll be gone indefinitely. That's all I know."

"Blimey," breathed Neville. "That sounds serious, or he wouldn't be so secretive about it. At least not with you."

"I'm flattered you think I'm that deep in his confidence."

Neville didn't miss the gloomy note that had entered her voice. "Harry thought the world of you, Ginny. You made him happier than I think I've ever seen him."

Ginny felt her cheeks turn a little pink, but she took a moment to recover her composure. When ready, she said, "You know me, Neville. I can't sit back and do nothing. Not anymore. That's why I asked you to come today. As you probably already guessed, Ron and Hermione went with Harry. Before they left Hermione gave me a bag full of extra D.A. coins, as well as instructions for how to use them."

Neville's face lit up. "You mean you're going to…?"

"We're working on it," Ginny answered, "though you'll have to be patient. This time it's going to be different. Things have changed now, so the D.A. must change too. We don't have a set plan yet, but you still have your old coin, right?"

Neville nodded.

"Good. Keep an eye on it. I'll contact you when we have a better idea how to do this."

At that moment, the waiter approached their table and Ginny again waved her wand under the table, silently negating the "Muffliato" spell long enough for him to approach and receive their orders. Neville only quietly mumbled his order, and other than that was silent throughout the exchange, leaving Ginny to do most of the talking. When the waiter had gone, and Ginny had put the spell back up, Neville then asked, "What if I need to contact you? Should I just come by the shop?"

"No," Ginny said firmly. "You shouldn't seek me out publicly. This disguise may fool customers, but it probably won't fool the Ministry of Magic, at least not for much longer, and they're sure to be watching me now. I don't want to draw any more attention to myself than there already is."

"Then how would I get in touch with you?"

"Do you know engraving spells?"

"I'm not brilliant at them," Neville admitted, "but Professor Flitwick taught them to us last year."

Ginny nodded and took a coin purse from her pocket, producing a silver Sickle from within, which she handed to Neville. "Use that to contact me. Fred and George are arranging a place where D.A. members can meet with us surreptitiously, but until that's done, this is the safest way for us to communicate."

Neville picked up the coin and weighed it in his hand. "What was wrong with the old contact coins?"

"Nothing, really," Ginny said. "We simply think it's a good idea to have a separate set of coins for more private communication between members. The problem with the old set is that anything I put on the master coin will be seen by everyone, and this time it would be best if we didn't have everyone knowing what everyone else is doing." Seeing his confused expression, she added, "I'll explain in more detail once we've ironed it out."

"How do they work?" asked Neville.

"The Galleons Hermione originally distributed will be for announcements and notifications for the whole group," Ginny answered. "As I said, the Sickles are for private messages. Luna found a way to assign each one a designation. You'd first engrave the designation of the person you want to contact, and only that person would see what followed."

"Wicked," Neville breathed in awe.

Ginny grinned. "Luna's a genius. Out of her mind, of course, but a genius."

"That is brilliant," Neville said, pocketing his Sickle. "I take it she's staying with you, then? I heard they attacked her house."

Ginny sighed. "Unfortunately, her father's injuries aren't healing, and the other day he took a sudden turn for the worse and had to go to St. Mungo's," she said sadly. "Luna's there with him."

"Will he be all right?" asked Neville, concerned.

She shook her head. "I don't know. We don't know what they hit him with."

They were quiet for a moment, while Neville looked both sympathetic and worried. Ginny knew he was thinking of his own parents, who were permanent residents at the hospital, and whose recovery was as unlikely as Voldemort giving himself up to the Ministry of Magic. All they could do was hope that Mr Lovegood's condition, terrible though it was, could be healed. Still, Ginny thought of the horrible state he was in when the Order removed him from Grimmauld Place (a memory that still made her feel nauseous), and though she wasn't a Healer, she wasn't confident. The news that Mr Lovegood would be staying at St Mungo's indefinitely confirmed that suspicion.

"So," Neville finally said, returning to the original subject, "what designation would I use to contact you?"

"VMN, all in capital letters," Ginny answered. Neville immediately took a small notepad and quill from his pocket and wrote this down. "It's short for 'Vermilion," she added. "Also Luna's idea. I suppose there might be a time when everyone fighting Voldemort has to go under false names, though I think 'Vermilion'—or any reference to the colour red—might be a bit too obvious, but still…." She absentmindedly ran her fingers through her temporarily dark hair. "Anyway, if you ever need a word, just let me know on that Sickle. I'll set up a time to meet you at that address."

"What's my coin gonna be called?" asked Neville.

Ginny took his coin back and showed Neville a fake serial number on its edge. "The designation is the first three letters in that serial number, in this case, 'WBM'. If you don't like that, we can always change it."

"Right." Neville took the coin back at pocketed it. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Not yet," Ginny answered. "As I said, this isn't firmly settled, but I will let you know more as soon as I can." At that moment, she noticed the waiter approaching their table with their lunches, and waved her wand under the table a final time. "Finite incantatum."

Half an hour later, after she and Neville had eaten their lunches with little more than casual conversation, Ginny returned to Diagon Alley with reasonable satisfaction that the first steps to restarting the D.A. had been taken, but in such a way that it would not be disastrous if the idea fell through. Neville had returned to his grandmother's house fairly confident and enthusiastic, and significantly more hopeful than he'd been after reading the morning paper. However, with some key members of the old D.A. now aware of the proposed revival, she knew that she could proceed no further without the backing of the Order, and this she was considerably less confident about. She wasn't even certain when she would get an opportunity to discuss it with one of the Order's more authoritative voices, though she was becoming increasingly determined to try.

As it turned out, she didn't have long to wait.

No sooner had she returned to the shop when George quickly made his way to her and said in a low voice, "We just got a message from Mum. Kingsley's at headquarters, and he wants a word with you. We'll cover for you."

Ginny hurried to the fireplace in the twins' flat, and moments later she tripped out of the fire place in Grimmauld Place, losing her balance and falling to her knees. A large hand suddenly took hold of hers, and pulled her to her feet.

Taking note of her altered appearance, Kingsley said, "Glad to see you're making prudent use of those disguise clips." After Ginny removed the clip with a small smirk, he added, "Mad-Eye would be proud. Of course, he probably would have insisted on the twins screening each and every customer entering into the shop. Probably would be easier to close the shop entirely."

"Do you think they should?" asked Ginny, brushing soot off her dragon-hide jacket.

"I think it would be prudent, at least for a couple of weeks. Admittedly, it might only fuel the rumours about Harry."

She frowned. "Is that why you wanted to talk to me? I've already been told by several people that I shouldn't go out in public." Glancing at the enchanted hair clip in her hand, she added, "At least, not as myself."

"We should all remain on the side of caution, but I agree that it would be wise of you to lie low for a few weeks," Kingsley warned her. "Make no mistake about that."

Ginny took a seat on the sofa, resigning herself to this. She knew she shouldn't be frustrated about it, especially as she fully understood Kingsley's rationale, but the truth was that were it not for the twins' instant disguises, she would have had to choose between hiding in Grimmauld Place all day, and risking appearing at work and getting swamped by frightened or angry "customers" like the platypus-woman from earlier that day, who likely were only at the shop to harass her and her family about their role in Harry's "desertion". Either choice undoubtedly would have driven her mad.

"What I don't get," she said after a moment, "is how Skeeter wrote that article while avoiding arrest. I mean, she must have tailed Dawlish and Williamson to get that information. Surely reporters aren't allowed to follow Aurors around?"

Kingsley too took a seat, rubbing his temple and wearing an irked expression that he didn't normally wear. "No, they're not. We've started an inquiry, but both Aurors insist that they didn't see Skeeter or any other reporter around, and that there was no one within earshot when they interrogated you. The trouble is that the article doesn't explicitly state that it was Skeeter, or any other reporter, who overheard the interrogation. We can't arrest her without charges or evidence, but we don't have any evidence that she was even in the shop at the time." Glancing at Ginny, he added, "I assume you didn't see her either."

"No," Ginny said, "but if it helps, you could probably charge her for being an unregistered Animagus."

"She's an…." Kingsley stopped, staring at her. "And how would you know that?"

"Hermione discovered it a couple of years ago," Ginny said. "She caught Skeeter in her Animagus form. It's a beetle, which makes it very easy for her to hide."

Kingsley still looked a little taken aback, although he slowly gave her an amused, approving smile. "That certainly would help our case. And since you've directly accused her… perhaps we could investigate it as an anonymous tip. Just be glad I don't charge you for not telling Magical Law Enforcement before now." In a curious voice, he then asked, "For that matter, why didn't Hermione ever report her?"

"She thought it more prudent to hold the secret over Skeeter's head, in case she tried to libel Harry again."

Kingsley blinked. "She was blackmailing her?"

Ginny gave him no answer besides a smug smile. Kingsley only looked mildly impressed. "You think you know a person…" Then his voice trailed away, and he shook his head, before pointing his wand at the kitchen. A moment later, a tea tray zoomed in and hovered in front of them, so smoothly that none of the porcelain cups fell, nor did a single drop spill from the willow-pattern teapot.

Quietly impressed with Kingsley's skill at Summoning, Ginny took one of the cups, and the teapot magically poured of its own accord. "So," she said slowly, "I gather you didn't bring me here to talk about the article?"

Kingsley also took a teacup. "No, I did not. Yesterday Tonks managed to get a few minutes with me, and she told me about this idea you've been pursuing with Fred and George." When Ginny glanced towards the kitchen nervously, he chuckled. "Don't worry, I've Silenced this room, and hopefully that will be enough for Molly to know to keep away."

Ginny looked back at him with a raised eyebrow, and dispassionately warned, "I wouldn't be too sure."

"Yes, well." Kingsley cleared his throat. "You must realise how risky this idea is. Fred and George might be inclined to throw caution to the wind, but I hope I've known you long enough to know that you're more levelheaded."

"I'm still going for this," Ginny declared. "And you know, Fred and George don't throw caution to the wind. They just have a different idea of what's too risky and what isn't. They wouldn't have proposed this or encouraged it if they didn't think it would work, and nor would I."

Kingsley sipped his tea and leaned back in his chair. "It is true that the twins are uniquely good at calculating risks," he said thoughtfully. "Perhaps I ought to recruit them for the Auror force."

Ginny laughed. "Nah. They're too undisciplined."

"The point is, the three of you will have thought this over," Kingsley said. "I also imagine that even if the Order doesn't approve this idea, you'll still try to do it behind our backs."

Ginny tried to stop herself from smirking. Kingsley, however, didn't return her smile. He placed his cup down, and asked curiously, "Why are you so determined to be a part of this?"

"Apart from the fact that my whole family already is?" she asked coolly.

"Yes." Kingsley continued to scrutinise her. "And apart from the fact that Harry's out there somewhere, doing Lord knows what. You're right, your whole family's deep in this, but none of them quite have the same level of drive and determination as you, except perhaps the twins. You had that drive when you first learned of the Order. You've been planning to be a part of this for a long time, haven't you?"

Ginny swallowed. "It's not something I like to discuss."

Kingsley looked at her contemplatively, and then nodded, looking satisfied. "I suspect that there are many things you haven't told anyone about your first year at Hogwarts. Don't look so surprised, I wrote the report for the Auror office." Seeing her horrified expression, he hastily added, "Don't worry, it's not a very detailed one. It contains nothing about you, except that you were held hostage. Even if Albus hadn't asked me to keep it vague, I would have done so. Even then, we both knew what Fudge was capable of."

"Right," Ginny said nervously. "And how much do you know?"

Kingsley gave her a kind smile. "What Harry reported, and not whatever you've hidden. And I assure you, except in the case where it provides vital information for Voldemort's defeat, I'm not going to ask if you don't want me to."

She exhaled. "Should that prove to be the case, you will not need to ask," she promised.

"Thank you." Kingsley paused for a moment. "As for the D.A., I'm afraid I can't make any promises. I have my doubts, but I respect your determination and your past actions. You'll find that much of the Order does too, more than you may realise. But I can promise to discuss this with them at the next meeting. From there, we'll see what happens." Seeing her slightly satisfied expression, he added, "You know, I may try to get you in the Order anyway, even if we don't approve your idea. You're ready for it, more ready than many of our newer recruits were."

"Thank you." Ginny drained the rest of her cup, and assuming the meeting to be over, she stood and headed back towards the fireplace. Then she paused and looked back. "Do you know what Scrimgeour's going to do, now that Skeeter's printed this story?"

Kingsley grimaced. "I am hoping your brother Percy will tell me exactly that today when I ask." He shook his head, then gestured at the fireplace. "Now I won't keep you any longer. And keep that disguise on."

In the hours following his renewed scar pain, Harry's nerves had been on edge, expecting to feel flares of pain, or unexpected mood swings, as he regularly had in the months following Voldemort's return; but these episodes didn't come, leaving him to conclude that at least, the weakening of the barrier Voldemort had constructed between their minds likely wasn't owing to want of effort on his part. He couldn't imagine why Voldemort's Occlumency shields were breaking down, but that was a question for another time. Still, it made him extremely nervous during any conversation about his task, and therefore, following his decision to trust Grobschmied and Grimrook, he kept his Pensieve out for the day's discussion, periodically withdrawing the newly-formed memories and depositing them in the stone basin.

They were in the kitchen, the Pensieve lying in the middle of the table; after hearing about the agreement between his uncle and Harry that morning, Grimrook had come back from Gringotts early, apparently having no further appointments or meetings with his clients. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all seated at the table, as was Grobschmied, though Grimrook chose to remain standing. Cecilia was outside, supposedly gardening, though Harry was certain that she, fully aware of what was transpiring inside, was listening while also keeping an eye on the wards for the slightest disturbance from an intruder, goblin or otherwise.

Grobschmied naturally wanted to know everything Harry knew about the Horcruxes, and so for the first half-hour or so, Harry outlined all that Dumbledore had told him. He had expected either Grobschmied or his nephew to be appalled that Voldemort likely had made at least six Horcuxes, but the two goblins, while disgusted, were not wholly surprised at the revelation. Harry supposed their own experiences had taught Grobschmied and Grimrook to expect the absolute worst from Voldemort. They were, however, surprised and pleased to hear that Harry and Dumbledore had already destroyed two, and still more surprised when he showed them the remnants of Tom Riddle's diary and Marvolo Gaunt's ring.

Grobschmied picked up the ring first, initially handling it gingerly, as though he expected it to soil his fingers. After looking it over, from its gold band to the inlaid black stone, he said in an analytical tone, "Peverell crest. A line that died out long ago, but still of minor historical value. I am unsure how the Gaunt family came to be in possession of this ring, as I know of no connection between the two lines. Yet it still caught Voldemort's interest enough that he chose to house a piece of his soul in this artefact. That's interesting." He looked back at Harry, and asked, "What do you know about its destruction? How Dumbledore found it, and how he destroyed it?"

"He did not really tell me how he destroyed it," Harry admitted. "I do know that it was hidden in the Gaunts' hovel near Little Hangleton, where he had obtained it and where he framed his uncle, Morfin Gaunt, for his father's murder. It was also booby-trapped. Dumbledore didn't go into any details, but there was some sort of curse on the ring that nearly killed him." Glancing at Ron and Hermione, he added, "His withered hand last year…."

"Ah." Grobschmied grimaced. "Yes, I remember seeing that myself when I slipped my letter into his pocket, last time I saw him." He set the ring down, and then picked up the diary. "And you destroyed this one?"

Harry nodded grimly. "With a basilisk fang."

The eyebrows of both goblins shot up. "A basilisk fang?" Grimrook repeated. "That is not something you can obtain from your average apothecary, even those of Knockturn Alley. Where in Laelit's name did you get one?"

"The Chamber of Secrets," Harry answered, almost amused by the way Grimrook's eyebrows raised even further.

He briefly explained the events of his second year at Hogwarts, and the confrontation with the shade of Tom Riddle's sixteen-year-old self. Grimrook looked particularly impressed by the story, but Grobschmied, though likewise impressed, remained serious. "Basilisk venom certainly is potent enough to destroy a Horcrux," he mused, "but that does us little good. It's been a little over four years since you killed Slytherin's basilisk, so it seems likely that its venom has dried up by now. Regardless, we don't have any means of examining its remains, as Hogwarts entirely sealed itself off from any known access several weeks ago." Seeing Harry, Ron, and Hermione's surprise, he added, "The Ministry has not revealed that to the public. It is wholly unprecedented, and therefore they wish to keep it from public knowledge for as long as possible; but as I said, we sometimes hear things at Gringotts that are not meant for general knowledge. Apparently it happened almost the moment Rubeus Hagrid vacated the grounds, though I have not heard any explanation for how or why. Effectively, it is currently impossible to pass through any of the entrances or the secret passages, so for the time being, we must consider Hogwarts inaccessible."

Harry stared at him, remembering how Hermione had been unable to access the Hogwarts library while they were staying in Hogsmeade, and wondering how this unforeseen event had occurred, and how not even the Ministry had any access or explanation. He'd always known the castle was imbued with ancient magic, some of which was unknown even to Dumbledore, and that Hogwarts almost had a will of its own, but the power displayed by its sudden inaccessibility, and the timing of said inaccessibility, made him wonder.

Meanwhile Grobschmied, still focused on the problem at hand, scowled and added, "I also have no desire to breed a Basilisk just as an instrument for destroying Horcruxes, so let us hope there are other ways that are not as unreasonably dangerous."

Harry snorted. "Trust me, that never once crossed my mind."

Grobschmied laughed humourlessly, before becoming serious again. "All the same, both these instances suggest that obtaining and destroying a Horcrux will be almost as dangerous as any attempt to kill Voldemort himself. It seems that in the right environment and with the right inducement, a Horcrux can act independently, which is disturbing, but unsurprising. In fact, I would imagine it likely that any traps or defences are powered by the Horcrux itself. They are shards of Voldemort's soul and therefore have the same malice and the same fear of death; so it stands to reason that, just as Voldemort has pushed every boundary and crossed every line to make himself indestructible, his anchors will likewise do everything in their power to escape destruction."

For a moment, they were quiet, and then Grimrook said, "In that case, it would behoove us all to be prepared for just about anything." Looking pointedly at the three humans sitting before him, he said, "Naturally, you should learn all you can about counter-curses, protective enchantments, and healing spells, but in addition to this, I believe you should also study curses and other forms of Dark magic, even those you would never use yourself. You will never be able to truly defend yourself if you are unfamiliar with what you are facing."

Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, but they were silent. It wasn't a thrilling prospect, but not one he hadn't already considered himself, and anyway, he couldn't argue with Grimrook's reasoning. He himself had witnessed Dumbledore's duel with Voldemort in the Ministry of Magic, and in retrospect, the deftness with which the latter could counter the former's spells suggested that Dumbledore himself was familiar with the kind of Dark magic Voldemort had mastered.

After a few minutes, Hermione looked at Grobschmied and said in a curious and hopeful voice, "What about you? What information do you have so far?"

The goblin frowned, seemingly contemplating his answer. "I have not yet located any Horcruxes," he admitted. "My knowledge, as you know, pertains mostly to Voldemort's time abroad, to places I have not had occasion to visit for some time. That being said, I am positive that he obtained, created, and hid at least one somewhere in Anatolia or the Caucasus. I realise it's a shot in the dark, but fortunately your Pensieve and my memories may prove helpful. Obviously, this will eventually require us to go to those places, but I hope we may find pertinent information before having to do so, otherwise we will have little choice but to piece it together in those communities he terrorised during that time."

"After fifty years?" Hermione asked sceptically. "Do you think there will still be leads after all this time?"

"Most of what Dumbledore obtained was decades later," Harry reminded her. "It's not impossible."

"This is mental," Ron muttered.

Harry could tell from his overwhelmed expression that it had suddenly become much more real to him how complicated and arduous this mission truly was going to be. Hermione too looked distressed, though slightly less shocked, but he couldn't blame them for reacting this way. He had known, from a theoretical standpoint, that the search for the Horcruxes would be nothing like breaking through the obstacles protecting the Philosopher's Stone or locating the Chamber of Secrets, and likely would take years; but somehow it hadn't truly occurred to him that he would have to spend months, maybe years, tracing Voldemort's steps in a foreign country, decades after he'd made those steps, even as the Death Eaters caused havoc and chaos in the very country and to the very people he was fighting for. It was fortunate that Grobschmied was already somewhat familiar with the area, otherwise he wouldn't have had any idea how to even get started, and certainly not in any kind of timely manner.

After a few minutes' thought, Grobschmied looked back at Harry. "So two out of a suspected six have been destroyed. What more have you found?"

Harry grimaced. "Dumbledore had found the place where Voldemort hid Slytherin's locket, but someone else got there first."

Grobschmied's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, someone got there first? The locket wasn't there?"

"There was a different locket in its place, and a note," Harry explained. He then pulled the fake locket from his pocket to show them, before opening it and withdrawing the small, folded piece of paper, which he unfolded and handed to Grobschmied. The goblin adjusted the position of his glasses and raised his head, squinting downwards, to see it better.

"'To the Dark Lord,'" he read, "'I know I will be dead before you read this, but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.' Signed, 'R.A.B.'"

"It's the only lead we've got," Harry said. "We have tried to find out who he or she is, but so far, we've only done some guesswork. Our top suspect is an unnamed Death Eater who Voldemort mentioned had died in his service, but I don't know of any by those initials. At the very least, R.A.B. sounds like someone who knew Voldemort personally."

"That rather complicates things," Grimrook said quietly. "I don't know these initials either, but at least we have something to go on. There is little of the contemporary world you can't find if you look in the right places." He took the note from his uncle and examined it for a moment, and then said, "This paper looks old, and the writing is a little faded, perhaps fifteen or twenty years; so it seems plausible that this R.A.B. person took the locket during the first war, or shortly afterward. Gringotts employs means of calculating the age of an item, so it should be easy enough for me to confirm that. That being said, I agree that the Death Eaters are where we ought to start looking. There may be something in records of their trials, or perhaps in public death or disappearance notices of purebloods or half-bloods during that time, especially once we have a better idea of when this note was written. What do you think, Uncle?"

Grobschmied had covered his mouth with his hand in a contemplative expression. His brows were knitted, and his ears had perked, but after a moment, he said slowly, "It certainly is true that, judging from the way that note is worded, whoever did this must have known Voldemort personally. But it's also plain to me that while Voldemort might allude to the Death Eaters how far he had gone to make himself invincible, I doubt he would have explicitly spoken about the Horcruxes."

Harry nodded. "Dumbledore said as much."

"Voldemort is no fool," said Grobschmied. "It would be far too dangerous for him to explicitly inform anyone about the Horcruxes, even in a spirit of boasting, in case someone turned on him. It therefore seems likely that R.A.B., whoever they were, would have already had some familiarity with the topic, if they were able not only to discover what Voldemort had done, but had even managed to locate the locket; and Horcruxes are not a topic even the average Death Eater would be familiar with. If R.A.B. was indeed a Death Eater, they most likely died before their name could catch the Ministry's attention, but also would likely have had an… interesting background, in which they would obtain such knowledge." He paused for a few seconds, then shook his head. "I shall have to think more on this. In the meantime, I think we should defer further discussion of R.A.B. until we have more information. Right now, all we have is useless speculation. But Rok is right. In this world, more often than not, pertinent information indeed exists; you just have to know where to look for it."

Harry nodded resignedly. Hermione looked as though she wished to discuss it more, but before she could say anything further, Grimrook spoke up.

"We should also consider," he said slowly, "what happens after we've destroyed the Horcruxes."

"What do you mean?" asked Harry.

"Once they're gone, I presume our next move will be to try to take down Voldemort himself," Grimrook said, "but we both know that will be much easier said than done."

Grobschmied nodded. "Horcruxes or no Horcruxes, he is extremely skilled at magical combat, and will not go down easily. He also will not be easy to reach. If he realises your intent, he will put countless of his servants and allies between you and him, and what we saw at Godric's Hollow makes it quite clear that some of his allies are just as deadly as he is."

Harry said nothing. He had to admit that they had a point.

After a moment's thought, Hermione said, "At the very least, they still appear to be few in numbers. They still keep to the shadows for the most part."

"If they had a fighting force large enough to take on the Ministry, they would have done it by now," agreed Ron.

"That is true, but it does not necessarily give us an advantage," Grimrook warned. "Never forget that sometimes inferior numbers can win battles or even wars. Think of the Battle of Agincourt or the Siege of Malta."

"The what?" Ron asked blankly.

"Agincourt," Hermione cut in. "Fought in 1415. A few thousand English against about twenty or thirty-thousand French cavalry. By numbers, the French should have won that battle, but the English won because their longbows and position gave them an important advantage, as did the conditions of the battlefield."

"And at Malta in 1565," Grimrook added, "The Ottoman Empire tried to invade the island with a force of at least thirty-five thousand, but were withstood and ultimately repelled by a few thousand Knights Hospitalier and Maltese civilians. The Knights and the Maltese won because of fortifications and because of numerous mini-sieges and bottle-neck engagements that ultimately drained the Ottomans of their men and morale." Seeing Hermione's and Ron's surprise, he added in amusement, "I may be a stockbroker by trade, but that doesn't mean I can't spend my free time studying subjects that interest me, including military history, both magical and non-magical."

"The point is," Grobschmied interrupted, "numbers aren't the only thing to take into consideration. The Death Eaters are outnumbered by the Ministry, but that doesn't mean they won't win. On the other hand, everything I've heard indicates that the Death Eaters outnumber the Order of the Phoenix. Am I right?" At Harry's nod, he said, "So the same principle applies. Though the Death Eaters outnumber the Order, that does not guarantee their victory."

"What matters," Grimrook said, "is how each side applies those numbers, through tactics. And I'm afraid that, given what we witnessed in Godric's Hollow, the Death Eaters may have a greater advantage than we realised, which is why we must learn all we can about the magic used there: so we can fight back."

"You stopped that attack, though," Ron reminded him.

"That was dumb luck," Grimrook said dismissively. "I think we took them by surprise, and nothing more. Had that sorcerer known we were there, I suspect we wouldn't be here discussing it."

They were quiet for a moment, in which Harry felt fear start to clench his heart and mind as he reflected on that attack. As things stood, he could not see how they were supposed to defeat Voldemort when he had found an ally capable of paralysing his enemies with weaponised, magically-induced terror, and also capable of raising Inferi that could perform spells, Inferi that would remain active even after their enchanter was killed. Whether it was dumb luck or not, though Grimrook had managed to kill the strange wizard who had appeared in Godric's Hollow, Harry thought there had to be more somewhere out there: with Voldemort's barrier between their minds breaking down, had the possible necromancer been the only one at the Death Eaters' disposal, he was sure he'd have felt Voldemort's rage at his death.

Judging from the long silences, scattered thoughts, and weary expressions, Harry thought that the discussion was coming to a close, and he therefore raised his wand to his temple and pulled out a strand of memory, containing everything they'd discussed since that morning, which he deposited into the Pensieve. It was the second time he'd done so. While attentive to the conversation, Harry had closely monitored his own thoughts and feelings throughout, waiting for the slightest sign of Voldemort's presence. Thus far, he'd felt nothing, and he also felt assured that if Voldemort had somehow still heard even a small snippet of the conversation, he would have felt an enormous—and likely agonising—burst of rage and fear from the other end of the connection. Still, he didn't want to take any further chances.

Evidently understanding why Harry had deposited these memories in the Pensieve, Grobschmied said, "If you're truly so worried about Voldemort seeing into your thoughts, that you're removing the memory of this conversation from your head entirely, I'd say you should leave off any further conversation, until you feel confident enough at Occlumency to continue. The task won't change, no matter how long it takes, although I stress that we must start Occlumency training the moment you're recovered enough."

"Probably would be best," Harry glumly admitted. He didn't like putting off his mission, but the seemingly reopened connection between him and Voldemort put far too much at risk.

"Well, on that note," Grimrook suddenly said, "I'd say that our first order of business is to find a place we can work from. This house is safe enough as a convalescent home, but not as a base of operations."

Though it seemed less important, on the surface, than finding Horcruxes or learning Occlumency, this wasn't a complication Harry, Ron, and Hermione hadn't already thought of themselves.

"Yeah," Ron said, "I think we were talking about this when we arrived at Godric's Hollow."

Harry nodded. "I have thought about it a little. I suppose it would have to be somewhere inconspicuous, and we'd have to make it impossible for Voldemort to find, or at least, as near to impossible as we can manage." He looked at the goblins. "Have you got any ideas?"

Grobschmied looked contemplative, as he said, "You're right, of course. There are plenty of ways to hide a property from unwanted visitors, whether wizard or Muggle. I imagine a Fidelius Charm would be in order, in addition to whatever other enchantments you choose to install. If it's a large property, there are ways to boost such spells so they can be cast over a wider range. And we could add some of our own protective and concealment spells. Borrow a few trade secrets from Gringotts, you could say. I'm sure Gadlak won't mind in this case."

"But what about the property itself?" asked Hermione. "What options do we have?"

Grobschmied said nothing, but Grimrook, shrugging, said, "You do own real estate, Mr Potter, but I think it would be unwise to use any of your existing properties as your own private headquarters. Scrimgeour cannot access your financial records anymore, but the Ministry of Magic will almost certainly have its own records of the purchase, registration and magical concealment of all the Potter properties, so you can be certain that Scrimgeour is having them watched. Gadlak might be willing to loan us use of one of his"—

"But won't the Ministry have a record of those too?" asked Ron.

"Undoubtedly," Grimrook said, "but I absolutely would not put it past Gadlak to have a few properties that are not public record."

"I have already spoken to Cerdik about this very matter," Grobschmied interrupted, sending his nephew an exasperated glare, "The upshot of it is that he has no holdings that are wholly secret. Danduaith has records of them, even if the Ministry does not. Regardless, given his position, Cerdik is very closely watched himself, and not just by the Ministry and the Death Eaters. If we are to make use of any of his properties, it should be when he deems it safe for us to do so, and not before."

"Then what if I bought some property in the Muggle world, and we then just installed the protective enchantments from scratch?" Harry offered. "I think I have enough money, and I could use one of the false identities you gave me. Could we do that without any record of it reaching the Ministry?"

"You do have enough money," Grimrook said. "It can be hard to calculate with the differing exchange rates, but regardless, you could buy a small country manor and it would hardly put a dent in your wealth. And yes, you absolutely can use one of those false identities to purchase property without the Ministry tracing it back to you, now that we've transferred most of your wealth to Swiss accounts." Seeing Harry's nervous expression, he added, "It's not as hard as you might imagine. Wizards quite frequently purchase Muggle houses or real estate and then simply have it erased from all Muggle records. Generally the Ministry of Magic is aware if such a transaction takes place, but as I doubt you're planning to inform them if a Muggle named Mr. Daniel Prescott buys a house, then I don't think we need to concern ourselves with them having any record of it."

"Right," Harry said, though he still felt somewhat overwhelmed, wondering, not for the first time, precisely what he had just gotten himself into. "Could you look into our options, then? Find out what's available?"

Grimrook checked his watch. "I could. Since you're going to need to be inconspicuous for the foreseeable future, I won't look for anything huge or famous that would draw public attention if you bought it, even under an alternate identity; and I also think it would be advisable to look for something relatively remote, minimising the possibility of people observing you. As soon as we're done here, I can return to the bank and start looking for possibilities."

Harry thanked him. Although he wasn't totally confident that this idea was foolproof, it made him feel as though he at least was making some progress, in spite of his condition and the other setbacks. In his more wild imaginings, perhaps he might even retain use of such property as a permanent home, once this war ended and assuming he survived. This aside, if they could anonymously purchase the property, remove it from Muggle record, and install an array of enchantments to both to protect and hide it from the Ministry and from the Death Eaters, as the Order did with Grimmauld Place, then he was confident that it would make his work easier from here on out. Certainly his future looked less bleak if he could operate while having his own private sanctuary to fall back to.

If Ginny returned to the shop in an elated mood, following the satisfactory meetings with Neville and Kingsley, within half an hour the tense aura in Diagon Alley dampened that mood. With her identity hidden behind the magical disguise she wore, Ginny was able to avoid some of the difficulty or awkwardness that Fred and George faced, but she was not oblivious to the whispers, or the people who entered the shop not as customers, but as panicked members of the magical community seeking answers. She couldn't tell if the mood was one of fear or anger, only that the atmosphere was rife with tension. Ginny could see that even the twins were growing exhausted, and that they were continually wary in case any real trouble makers decided to enter the shop, though fortunately nothing serious occurred. Still, she could see Kingsley's point that it might be wise for the twins to temporarily close the shop and only do business through Owl Order.

Never before had she felt so relieved to leave the shop, as she was that evening.

Unfortunately, even that relief was brought to an abrupt end in the middle of dinner. In light of the news, most of the Weasleys had deemed it prudent to spend the night in the safety of Grimmauld Place, if only to avoid the press if not any Death Eaters. Therefore almost everyone except for Percy and Charlie had been present when Kingsley and Tonks showed up shortly after the meal started, bringing a note that Percy had apparently slipped into Kingsley's pocket earlier that day, informing them that Scrimgeour had applied to the Wizengamot for a warrant to freely and regularly access the financial records of the Potter family.

"They're going to monitor Harry's bank vault?" Ginny spluttered in outrage, after Kingsley read them Percy's note.

Tonks nodded. "Starting tomorrow, as he says. Scrimgeour hopes that the information he obtains from Harry's financial records will aid in the effort to track him down."

"What can be done about it?" asked Arthur, worried.

"Dunno. I guess that's why we're here discussing it," Tonks said, looking at Kingsley questioningly. "To figure out what can be done."

Arthur leaned back in his chair, running his hand through his thinning hair. "I wish Harry had left some means of contact, even a two-way mirror," he sighed. "At least we'd be able to warn him."

The rest of the table remained quiet. Even Ginny, who had spent the past few weeks defending Harry's actions, couldn't think of anything to say to this. However, as she picked at her food, wondering if this truly might lead Scrimgeour right to Harry, she was shocked to see her mother on the other side of the table, wearing an expression that bordered on satisfaction.

"What the hell are you smiling about?" she demanded angrily. "You can't say this is good news!"

The others looked at Molly in surprise. To her credit, Molly looked a little embarrassed, though she immediately became defensive. "I don't want the Minister making problems for Harry any more than you do! But I will not apologise for hoping that some news of him and Ron will come out of this."

Ginny stood abruptly, but before she could retort, Fred said wryly, "Yep. Try to obtain any information of them you can, never mind who else might be watching for that exact info."

Molly turned red.

"Don't kid yourself that this is good in any way, Mum," George told her seriously. "Or have you forgotten that the Death Eaters have well-placed sources in the Ministry that will try to get that information themselves? You know perfectly well that if the Ministry knows something, it's best to assume You-Know-Who does too."

Molly faltered. It was clear that in her eagerness for the smallest scrap of news about Ron and Harry and Hermione, she had momentarily forgotten the developing situation in the Ministry. She started wringing her napkin nervously.

Tonks, relieved that they'd avoided an argument, chimed in, "All I can say is that it's very lucky Percy's defected to our side. Hopefully anything Scrimgeour learns, Percy will also learn, and he can pass that information to us."

There was little more to be said about the problem after that, though Ginny suspected that the Order was resolved to use any useful information from Scrimgeour's office to try to find Harry, if only to warn him. Later that evening, Percy sent a note informing them that the Wizengamot, seemingly feeling the political pressure of Harry's disappearance, had approved Scrimgeour's request, and most likely some of the Aurors, and possibly Scrimgeour himself, would visit Gringotts the very next day, shattering any hopes that Scrimgeour still would be denied his warrant.

While at work the next day, Ginny was still aware of the continued tension in the shop as visitors began more vocally demanding information from the twins, though fortunately all so far had proved too circumspect to try anything more forceful or harassing, not with two professional magical pranksters. Ginny, however, was able to ignore their behaviour, instead waiting anxiously for evening so she might hear some further word about Scrimgeour's investigation.

"Don't hold your breath," George warned, when he spotted her checking her watch for the hundredth time later that afternoon. "Once Scrimgeour has the records, it may still take time for Percy to hear anything further."

If this was meant to put Ginny more at ease, it failed. If anything, the prospect of waiting for days or even weeks before learning anything further made her even more anxious. To her surprise, however, George couldn't have been more wrong. Grimmauld Place that evening had a near-identical scene to the previous evening, with most of the Weasleys at dinner, though this time Remus was there too, as was Luna, who had only just returned home from a visit to her father at St Mungo's. Molly was just serving steak and kidney pie to everyone, when the door opened and Kingsley, Percy, and Tonks all entered the dining room.

Arthur stood abruptly. "Did Scrimgeour find out anything?"

Ginny noticed that all three of them, Percy in particular, looked extremely tired and harried.

"I don't suppose you've got some Firewhisky, Molly?" Kingsley asked. "We could all use it."

Molly nodded and put down the baking pan. "Ginny, could you continue serving?"

Ginny obediently stood and started scooping some food into George's bowl, while Molly disappeared into the kitchen.

"It was that bad?" Arthur asked, worried.

Kingsley and Percy said nothing until Molly returned with the Firewhisky and a few wine glasses. Kingsley took these gratefully and tapped the bottle with his wand, causing the cork to pop out. He then poured himself and Percy and Tonks a glass. The three of them gulped down the liquor without a word.

"Kingsley?" asked Molly, worried.

This time Tonks responded. "Don't worry yourselves. Scrimgeour found nothing. But he's not made it easy on any of us."

"What do you mean, he found nothing?" asked Fred, eyebrows raised. "Harry's records don't indicate where he is?"

"No," Percy said. "More importantly, they indicate that the Minister is unlikely to ever find him, at least not through his financial records."

"Seems that Harry is several steps ahead of Scrimgeour," Kingsley added. When the others looked at him questioningly, he explained, "It appears that shortly after he left, Harry arranged to have most of his money, and control of most of his assets, transferred to a different bank. Unless he tries to access what is left in his Gringotts vault, the goblins will have no records of any of his financial transactions from here on out." He looked back at Tonks. "I had no idea he had enough experience to even think of taking such steps, let alone the resources."

Fred and George grinned in triumph. Ginny, relieved, also found herself beaming.

"But where would Harry have transferred his money?" questioned Arthur, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Gringotts and its sister banks are the only Wizarding banking chain in Europe."

"He could have transferred it to a Muggle bank," George said thoughtfully (this caused Arthur to twitch excitedly). "Gringotts can do that."

"And you would be correct," Percy said, after sipping more Firewhisky. "That is exactly what he did."

"Would that be as secure as Gringotts?" asked Molly, worried. "And won't Gringotts have a record of where Harry transferred his money? Scrimgeour could just access the records at this new bank."

Kingsley held up a hand. "He didn't transfer his money to any ordinary Muggle bank. He transferred it to a numbered Swiss account. The Gringotts archives don't have a record of his actual account number, which this Swiss bank will not attach to Harry's name. Nor will they disclose his account number or give access to records of his transactions. Meaning that right now, the only person we know for sure will actually know the account number is Harry himself, making it nearly impossible for the Ministry to view his most recent transactions, especially if he also knew to employ some European magical financial service that would put additional security on this numbered account. He can now spend money with complete anonymity."

"Blimey, I didn't know you could do that," George said, impressed. "Where the hell did Harry learn about it?"

Kingsley only shrugged. "That is a good question. I won't pretend I know him as well as an of you do," he nodded at the Weasleys and Remus, "but he's never come across to me as some kind of financial genius."

Even Ginny, thrilled as she was by Harry evading Scrimgeour in such a clever way, couldn't help but wonder at this, but Bill, who had been listening in quietly at all of this, was the one to answer.

"I doubt he thought of this himself," he said, "and I doubt Ron or Hermione did either. But he did meet with a Gringotts stockbroker a few days before his birthday to discuss full access to his inheritance, and I suppose they might have discussed it during that meeting. The goblins know full well who Harry Potter is and how much money he has, and they know he's You-Know-Who's biggest target. With Hogwarts closed, he'd almost certainly be forced to go into hiding, so I'd be prepared to bet that the goblins themselves suggested this as a way for him to go into hiding and be able to spend money. In fact, they probably arranged for the transfer to take place as soon as Harry was of age, and had given them the go-ahead. He probably simply sent them an owl with the forms signed, and the transferral took place immediately."

This seemed as good an explanation as any. Ginny could see several people nodding thoughtfully, and Remus, speaking for the first time the whole evening, said contemplatively, "That makes sense. It also brings up possibilities about the way the Death Eaters spend money, that we haven't thought of." Now that it seemed that neither the Ministry nor the Death Eaters could trace Harry financially, he had relaxed. "I'm not sure if they'd use a Muggle bank, but it truly does show that there are ways."

Kingsley nodded, sharing Remus's pensive expression.

"How did Scrimgeour react?" asked Ginny curiously.

Percy winced. "He was very, very angry."

"I can only imagine."

Looking at Percy in concern, Arthur said, "I hope it's not too soon to rest easy on this matter?"

"Unfortunately, no," Kingsley said cautiously. "Scrimgeour isn't going to let this go, judging by the invectives he was shouting about Harry, about the goblins, just about everyone he could think of."

"At Gringotts?" Luna spoke up for the first time, and in her usual serene voice, remarked, "That doesn't sound very politic."

"That's the least of our concerns," Arthur said nervously. "He seems determined to find Harry, and I don't like to think how far he'll go."

Percy began pouring himself a second glass, and said nothing.

It was hours before the uproar over Scrimgeour's disastrous visit died down, and even then, Cerdik Gadlak was certain that it would continue to be a hot topic among his employees, especially goblin employees, the next day. The Minister had, at least, had the sense to let out his frustration outside of the public view, although much of the Gringotts administration as well as the records office had been its recipient, but even so, his outrage had not been entirely kept within the warded safety of Gadlak's office. From the moment of his seeing the record of Potter's bank transfer, to the moment of his departure, Scrimgeour had directed such a vicious rant at just about everyone involved that even Gadlak's most patient and experienced managers looked affronted. It therefore wasn't long before word of the fiasco broke out, at least among the rest of the staff. Gadlak himself might have privately enjoyed it, had Scrimgeour not turned much of his ire upon his son as well as Rok Grimrook, who would have known the most about Harry Potter's "signed transferral forms" supposedly sent to Gringotts the morning after his disappearance. Both Menger and Rok had fortunately kept cool heads, and were able to continue that fiction.

The most interesting thing, however, occurred just as Scrimgeour was leaving. Gadlak already knew both from financial records and from what little Potter and his friends reportedly had said while in Aelyn Dionn, that the Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt was a high-ranking member of the Order of the Phoenix; whether or not Scrimgeour was aware of this was unclear. But as Shacklebolt, who was acting as part of Scrimgeour's escort, passed by Gadlak upon leaving Gringotts, he inconspicuously leaned over and muttered, "As this is a Ministry administrative matter, the Auror office will be doing all it can to keep this from the public. Make certain your staff understand this."

Gadlak had said nothing, but he did give Shacklebolt a subtle nod. Once the Ministry delegation had departed, Gadlak directed his son to give the entire Gringotts staff a very severe warning to not discuss Scrimgeour's visit beyond other staff. While it was likely that word that Scrimgeour had severely quarrelled with Gringotts management would break out among the public, the fact that it was over Harry Potter's financial records remained behind closed doors. Accordingly, in a hard voice Menger told the staff that if the substance of the quarrel ever appeared in any newspaper, he would launch an inquiry, and anyone found to have breathed a single word would be immediately fired, and possibly handed to the Auror office for prosecution for leaking Ministry secrets. Menger made sure to spread this warning without mentioning Potter or his money. The most exhausting thing was getting this message to the entire Gringotts staff without drawing the attention of their customers.

It was therefore with relief that when the front doors finally closed that evening, and the bolt sealed, that Menger approached his father in the administrative offices and told him that he had personally notified every member of the staff, but he'd done so well out of public view.

Gadlak relaxed a little. "It's been one hell of a marathon," he told his son. "But don't think our job's done. We'll have to keep a very close eye on the newspapers, as well as on the staff."

Menger nodded. He then handed Gadlak some documents. "These are the security enumerations you asked for this morning. In the chaos today you might have forgotten…"

"Oh, yes. Thank you. You go on home. I'll be in my office for the next couple of hours if anything comes up."

Gadlak watched Menger leave, and then turned and made his way down the narrow corridor in the administrative offices until he reached his own office. Once he carefully closed his door, he made his way towards his desk, the enumerations tucked under his arm, desperate to finally sit after the day's insanity. But as he brightened the lights of his office, he froze when he saw someone already in his swivel chair, their back to him.

"Can I help you, sir?" he asked, determinedly remaining collected in spite of his surprise.

The chair turned, and the goblin stood up. This time Gadlak was unable to hide his shock. It was Dagnar Trawlak.

"Good evening, Mr Gadlak," he coolly greeted.

"Lord Chairman." Gadlak bowed his head in a courteous greeting, even as he determinedly tried to hide any sign of nervousness. As head of the Council of Sixteen, Trawlak was effectively the ruler of Tylwthteg. To a goblin, his visit was almost as significant as the Queen of England herself paying a call. In an effort to remain both hospitable and formal, as was Trawlak's due, he indicated a decanter and a selection of glasses on a sideboard. "Shall I get you a drink?"

"Thank you."

Trawlak remained seated at the desk as Gadlak opened the decanter and poured brandy into two glasses. As he did, he was unsurprised to see two grim-looking Danduaith guards—dlachthslin servants, no doubt—standing still in the far corners of his office, their eyes averted but their ears perked, trained not to hear or watch their lord's discussion with Gadlak, but undoubtedly alert to any unexpected noise or movement. Once he put the glass lid back on the decanter, Gadlak remarked, "It's an unusually late hour for anyone to come by, not that your presence is unwelcome."

"Since I don't want to draw attention to this visit," Trawlak answered, "I didn't want to be present during business hours. I imagine that my presence might cause as great a stir, at least with your goblin staff, as the Minister of Magic's visits typically do."

Gadlak returned to the desk and handed Trawlak his glass. Rather than drink any, Trawlak looked back at Gadlak and dryly remarked, "Speaking of which, I hear you've had a rather busy day."

Gadlak sipped his own brandy. "Should have known word would reach you, whatever I do to keep my staff quiet."

"Oh, your son did very well," Trawlak said lightly. "I have my own sources." He drank, and then after a moment's silence, he placed the glass on the desk and leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, looking at Gadlak with a very stern demeanour. In a sudden, sharp voice, he demanded, "Gadlak, what the hell are you doing?"

"Sir?"

"As I just said, I have my sources," Trawlak snapped. "I keep an eye on all the Councilmen, as you can imagine, especially those so intricately connected with the dealings of wizards as you are." When Gadlak said nothing, Trawlak continued, "You first cause a stir at the High Council by strongly advocating that Tylwthteg join in this war against the Death Eaters, even insulting some of the other Councilmen in the process. At the same time you and your son maintain a close association with Benedict Grobschmied and the Grimrook family, all of whom I know to have a strong vendetta against the Death Eaters." When Gadlak moved to interrupt, he cut across him, "I know they are old friends of yours, and this in and of itself wouldn't worry me as much. But then, after the passing of the Potters' old accountant, you place Harry Potter's fortune and assets in the custodianship of Rok Grimrook, of all people."

"Grimrook's a perfectly competent accountant," Gadlak said coolly.

"I'm sure he is. That's not under discussion." Trawlak paused, inhaling and exhaling slowly and deeply, not speaking up again until he had restored within himself some measure of calm and collectedness, though he had lost none of his firmness. "All of this was mere conjecture," he said, "until what occurred today. Do not suppose that I am unaware of the particulars, nor that I haven't also kept a close eye on Gringotts records."

Gadlak set his class back on the sideboard, carefully concealing his irritation, though he wasn't very surprised. "You have a perfect right to," he said wryly, "after the Council's most recent decree. Tell me, Lord Chairman, did you push that decree through because you suspected me, or because you truly suspected the actions and motives of certain members of my staff?"

"Whatever you might believe to the contrary, Mr Gadlak, there is reason to believe that extremists like Tylwthteg Hran might try to operate through Gringotts, especially the records office," Trawlak retorted. "You are so preoccupied with the affairs of wizard society that you may not be completely aware of just how dangerous this group is becoming. You know just as well as I do what kind of information can be dug up about a person just from their banking records, and let me tell you that they are not above using the information they find to bribe, threaten, or blackmail people, human or goblin."

"I am very careful about who works in the records office, Lord Chairman," Gadlak said coldly.

"Apparently not careful enough to prevent a false record from being planted in your archives concerning the transferral of Mr Potter's wealth to another bank," Trawlak countered.

Gadlak turned back to the sideboard in an effort to hide his surprise. After making a pretence of refilling his glass, without turning around he said, "The transferral legitimately happened, Mr Trawlak. The majority of Mr Potter's finances are now with this Swiss bank."

"Oh, I know that the transferral is real." To his consternation Gadlak could hear a mild note of triumph in Trawlak's voice. "But the date on the record was false. Scrimgeour may be none the wiser, but I am fully aware that though that record is dated to some weeks ago, it was actually placed in your archives just before Skeeter's article was published. In other words, just before Scrimgeour obtained the Wizengamot's permission to monitor Potter's financial transactions."

Gadlak turned back around, knowing that there was no point in denying this any further.

Trawlak was glaring at him. "Now perhaps Mr Potter is so astoundingly familiar with the infrastructure and running of Gringotts that he found a way to place that record himself, outside of anyone's knowledge, or perhaps he persuaded Grimrook to find a way to bypass the record keepers, but you and I both know how unlikely either possibility is. But there is one person in Gringotts who can easily get the record keepers to look the other way when there's a discrepancy, and who has the connections to open a Swiss bank account and transfer a fortune and the dividends of numerous investments into said account, in as short a time as this."

Gadlak sipped his refilled glass and said nothing, though he reflected that his father would be quite proud of his determined poise.

Trawlak held up a hand. "I have no interest in Mr Potter's whereabouts. Unlike Scrimgeour, I have not made that, or Potter's well-being, any kind of political concern. But I am concerned when the actions of any of the Sixteen might, without the support of the Council or the people of Tylwthteg, prematurely involve the Council in a political matter we won't be able to back out of." His mouth thinned. "So I ask again, Mr Gadlak: what the hell are you doing?"

It was clear that Trawlak had not come to ask if, but why he had so involved himself, and Gadlak knew him too well to see any purpose in lying or stonewalling him. He sighed. "You seem to have concluded from all this that I am doing something covert, and that Harry Potter is involved. And I cannot do anything now except admit to you that it is true."

Trawlak merely raised an eyebrow, giving no further response.

"You yourself hinted that I could act privately if I chose, did you not?" Gadlak challenged.

"I believe I told you that you must prepare yourself for the possibility that the Sixteen would maintain a neutral stance concerning the Death Eaters," Trawlak answered carefully, "and that it is your concern where that preparation leads you."

"And now you're condemning me for it?"

"I have told you not to implicate or involve the Council in your doings," Trawlak said, "and thus far you have clearly made an effort not to. But I admit I was not expecting something as significant as this. I am here to demand an explanation. If you can convincingly justify your actions, I may be prevailed upon to look the other way."

"I see." Feeling suddenly bold, Gadlak asked, "And what would it take to prevail upon you to do a little more for us than simply ignore our activities?"

He was quite sure that his son and Grimrook and even Grobschmied would be horrified by his recklessness; but just as he knew Trawlak rather well, so did Trawlak know him well in return, and he did not seem surprised by the question.

"You already have something in mind?" Trawlak asked dispassionately.

"I do."

Trawlak leaned back in the chair. "I will hear your explanation. Then I shall decide whether to grant you this favour or not."

Over the course of the next half-hour, Trawlak said very little. He listened as Gadlak confessed as much as he dared, speaking only to ask for clarification. Gadlak kept his narrative confined to the basic facts, and he carefully left out all mention of Voldemort's Horcruxes, but he made sure Trawlak understood where he, Grobschmied, and the Grimrooks stood: his determination to protect his family, his livelihood, and his nation from the sorcerer who had butchered so many people over the years; Grobschmied's vow to do whatever he could to put an end to the evil he had witnessed in Europe all those years ago; and Grimrook's burning desire to avenge his parents' murders. He also attempted to explain how they'd come to contact and be involved with Harry Potter, but doing so without mentioning the Horcruxes was not easy.

By the time Gadlak finished, the pair of them had moved to the armchairs by the fireplace on the west side of the office. Gadlak's voice was hoarse, and Trawlak looked tired, but he also looked alert.

"So, Mr Potter has been seriously injured in an ambush at his parents' grave," he said.

"That is indeed the case." Gadlak looked at him carefully. Trawlak hadn't commented much on any aspect of the story, regardless of how horrific or strange it was. He therefore thought it interesting that Trawlak would first remark on this.

"He will recover?" Trawlak inquired.

"I have every assurance that he will," Gadlak said. "We were very lucky in that respect. Were it not for the skills of the Laelitian order, he might not have survived."

"So the Grimrooks are keeping him well tended to?" At Gadlak's hesitant nod, Trawlak's expression took on a more calculating look, and after a moment, he said, "So… Aelyn Dionn, I suppose." Seeing Gadlak's shocked and slightly outraged expression, he looked amused. "It's the only place where Rok Grimrook could have safely hidden Harry Potter, and also have easy access to Laelitian Healers."

"I thought you weren't interested in his whereabouts," Gadlak retorted, privately cursing himself for letting that detail slip.

"I'm not. That doesn't mean I can't take note of things that could prove useful to know further down the line," Trawlak said coolly. A few minutes passed, in which Trawlak seemed to be surveying Gadlak with an almost appraising expression. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Trawlak broke the uncomfortable silence. "There is, however, something you have mentioned that is of far greater interest to me. This… attack in Godric's Hollow worries me significantly more than your actions concerning Mr Potter or their potential consequences."

"I understand that Grobschmied has been trying to look into it, but he has not had much success."

"It is not likely that he will find much," warned Trawlak. "If what happened there was indeed what you seem to suspect, then I'm afraid he will be researching for a long time. It is not a topic you could find mentioned in a book in Flourish and Blotts."

Gadlak smiled slyly. "And yet you seem to know a lot about it. At least enough to know it exists."

Trawlak smiled grimly. "The Chairman of the Tylwthteg High Council is entitled to a few secrets. Just as the Head of the Department of Mysteries is." Seeing Gadlak's expression, he resignedly said, "I suppose this is the favour for which you wish to ask? You want to know what Danduaith has helped the Ministry of Magic hide all this time."

"It certainly would increase all our chances of survival, if we know what to expect," Gadlak pointed out.

"You already know far more than you ought." Trawlak said coolly. "I suppose Grobschmied learned of it because of his unique history. At any rate, your request could potentially benefit both of us. It is the only reason I might actually consider it." When Gadlak looked at him inquiringly, Trawlak admitted, "This was not the first time in recent months that something like this has happened."

Gadlak could only stare at him.

"I am not currently at liberty to tell you of the particulars," Trawlak said, staring into the fire as he spoke. "What I can tell you is that the Aurors have made an enormous effort to cover up the worst of Dark activity recently, and have required all other authorities, including goblin, to do the same. This was not the first such incident this year, but to my knowledge it was the first where there were survivors to bear witness, and what you have described does indeed concern me, perhaps enough to give it priority over my concerns about Tywlthteg Hran." Gadlak made to interrupt, but seeing his inquisitive, half-hopeful expression, Trawlak added apologetically, "My knowledge mostly encompasses the efforts the Wizarding World has made in the past to eliminate such practices. Otherwise, I'm afraid I know little more about the origins of these Dark practitioners, or their magic, than you or Grobschmied do."

"So there are more than one?" asked Gadlak in consternation.

"That I can tell you for certain," Trawlak said. "For now, I can say little else."

Gadlak deflated in disappointment, but wasn't surprised.

"I will not speak of this to anyone," Trawlak promised. "You may be assured of that. My dlachthslin bodyguards"—he nodded at the two burly goblins in the corners—"are, of course, magically bound to never speak of this meeting to anyone, even if their binding permitted them to hear the substance of our conversation. And I hope very much for Mr Potter's recovery, emotional as well as physical. As for your request, you must understand that if I were to tell you what I do know, I would be breaking one of the oldest and most important oaths of my office. It is therefore no small thing you ask of me, and I can only respectfully ask that you give me time to consider what my own actions may be from this point forward."

"How much time?"

"A day or two would suffice."

"Very well," Gadlak said in resignation.

Trawlak stood and headed for the door, placing his hat on his head as he went. Before he opened the door, however, he looked back at Gadlak and said, "I will not hold it against you if you should inform Mr Potter of this meeting today. Good day, Mr Gadlak."

On the fourth day after Harry's disappearance became public knowledge, at Fred's request Ginny arrived at the shop an hour earlier than usual, and already wearing her disguise hair clip. She wasn't sure why the twins wanted her there nearly two hours before the shop opened, vaguely wondering if it had anything to do with the changed atmosphere in Diagon Alley over the past couple of days; from what she'd seen so far, the public outcry over Skeeter's article, and the articles that followed, showed no signs of dying; in fact, judging from reports she'd heard over her mother's magical radio, it was only increasing.

The day before, while Ginny was at Grimmauld Place for her lunch break, apparently the twins had received a number of abusive letters from Daily Prophet customers, which Fred apparently had cheerfully tied to a new prototype firework he'd been developing, which he then tested in the alley behind the shop. Percy and even Bill had also received hate mail, but the worst was when Ministry officials confiscated an envelope meant for her father, which had contained powdered Tentacula root, obviously meant to make Arthur sick. Curiously, Ginny hadn't received any hate mail, despite her name conspicuously appearing in the article. The article's mention of her brief relationship with Harry had generated considerable curiosity, and she knew that several magazines and newspapers had published articles on it since, so it seemed strange that she personally had received almost no backlash for it. She doubted that avoiding going out in public without her "Gwen" disguise could entirely account for it, though she supposed it was possible that some were included among the letters Fred had blown up the day before, and that the newer protections Mad-Eye had installed at Grimmauld Place were blocking any such letters from arriving there. Either that or her mother had been intercepting and destroying them.

Molly had wanted Ginny to refrain from going to work at all until the fuss died down, disguised or not, but somebody, either the twins or Arthur, had persuaded her to not push her daughter on this. But still, Ginny had agreed to avoid going out into Diagon Alley too much, and if she had to run some errand, to do it through Owl Order or early, before it became too crowded. Fred and George had also upped their security a bit, warding off the whole shop except for the door, which they could easily ward off with the pull of a switch should there be an attack. They also kept Sneakoscopes in their pockets and under the cash register, which would almost certainly warn them if any threat entered the shop. She also knew that Bill was almost finished installing the passage from the alley behind the shop to the twins' new Muggle flat, a passage which offered the twins the twins an escape route in the event that the fireplaces got sealed off, and which she knew could easily be sealed behind them.

Needless to say, it had been with some satisfaction to Ginny that the night before, Tonks stopped by Grimmauld Place to inform her that Rita Skeeter had finally been arrested. "You have no idea how grateful MLE was about your tip," she told Ginny happily. "They've been looking for a reason to arrest Skeeter for ages, but they never had enough evidence to obtain a warrant. When you directly accused her, a Wizengamot official authorised MLE to test her, and she turned up positive."

"What's the punishment for being an unregistered Animagus?" Ginny had asked.

"A fine of about five hundred Galleons," Tonks replied happily, "or a two-month stint in Azkaban if she's unwilling or unable to pay. Along with forced registry and a couple years of very close monitoring. It all depends on what Skeeter's willing to pay. It also gives us an opportunity. We can get her in prison for even longer if we can prove she was in the shop on the day Dawlish and Williamson interrogated you, in her Animagus form, then we can build a very strong case against her for stalking agents of the Auror office while they're on duty, which, of course, poses a strong security risk for them and for you."

Ginny had no idea how the Auror office was going to go about proving that Skeeter had been anywhere near the shop in her beetle form, but even if they couldn't, she was satisfied. She had a feeling that either way, it was the end of the unscrupulous reporter's career. She had been caught. She could no longer use espionage to write articles, and therefore the Prophet had just lost their best news source. Besides, she was willing to bet that the editors of the Prophet would not be willing to place themselves under further scrutiny by MLE or by the Auror office by protecting Skeeter. She would be thoroughly shocked if the cow wasn't sacked by the end of the week.

As soon as Ginny stepped out of the fireplace, she saw George, looking rather sleepy, waiting on his sofa, but he instantly stood and handed her a piece of paper. It was her paycheck.

"A hundred and eighty-three Galleons, eight Sickles, fifteen Knuts," he told her. "And for the hell of it, we'll throw in a free Catherine Wheel."

"You called me over this early for this?" she asked, as she pocketed the check and the firework.

"You want to explain to Mum why you took it to the bank when it's most crowded and therefore most likely to be concealing Death Eaters?" George asked sarcastically. Then, in a more cheerful voice, he added, "Besides, if you go during your lunch break, you'll be gone for hours."

She could see his point. She'd only been to Gringotts a couple of times since that first visit, to change Galleons to pounds. This only involved visiting a window near the entrance, and under normal circumstances would take no more than twenty minutes. However, in recent weeks, the stringent security measures at Gringotts had considerably slowed operations there, and at mid-day, when most customers and patrons visited, even depositing a check meant waiting in long lines and enduring continual security checks. Even exchanging Muggle money took twice as long as it should, although oddly enough, the security goblins had thus far given Ginny little trouble. She supposed that they didn't think her currency exchanges were worth special scrutiny. But depositing her check, while still a perfectly straightforward procedure, would still require her to get in a line alongside people depositing money, people withdrawing money, investors meeting with stockbrokers, debtors making payments, etc.

As usual, when Ginny, wearing her hair clip, arrived at the bank, the goblins at the front merely waved a Secrecy Sensor at her and let her through without too many questions, something that still surprised her, but as long as they were being relatively courteous to her, she saw no use in questioning them about it. As soon as she entered the bank, however, it became clear that she had completed the easy part of her errand. If she had hoped that the bank being less crowded at opening would allow her to deposit her check in only a few minutes, she was mistaken. Evidently a large number of bank patrons had the same idea. Though it wasn't as tightly packed as it would have been at noon, the entrance chamber was still full of people.

Upon seeing her enter, a goblin hurried over and asked what her business was.

She showed him her paycheck. "Making a deposit."

"Follow me, please," the goblins squawked, and he led her to a line where about twenty people already were standing. Two more goblins, both carrying long knives, stood twenty-five feet up the line, stopping each customer and thoroughly questioning them, using Ministry-issued devices to analyse their wands, and jabbing Secrecy Sensors in odd places.

The first time Ginny had entered Gringotts as "Gwen", she nearly panicked when the guards brought out the Secrecy Sensors, but she was also relieved to find that the disguise didn't register. Initially in awe of the twins' abilities, she later learned from George that the instant disguises mostly used the sort of illusion-type glamour spells found in Witch Weekly, and apart from changing her hair and eye colour, complexion, and makeup, did little else to her appearance. Secrecy Sensors, however, were designed for Polyjuice Potion, invisibility spells, and transfiguration.

"If their equipment was set off by glamour spells," George had remarked, "they'd have to arrest every other witch who entered Gringotts."

As Ginny stood in line, the wizard in front of her, whose nose was buried in a newspaper, suddenly remarked to his wife, "Scrimgeour's blustering on about his efforts to recover Harry Potter. I have to wonder about the competence of the Aurors if they can't locate a barely-of-age wizard."

"I still can't believe it," the witch responded. "I mean, I don't know too much about him, but he's never struck me as the type who'd just up and leave."

"Well, even if he has, it's not the end of the world," her husband told her, though Ginny wondered who he really was reassuring. "I'm sure he'll come back."

Ginny tried to tune out their conversation, knowing that she probably shouldn't comment. It was unfortunate, she reflected, that Wizarding Britain had placed all its hopes on one person, especially now that he was out of reach. Though Ginny more or less knew the truth, however, it wasn't a truth she could spread. Nor could she completely blame the magical community for feeling as they did about Harry, because at this point there really wasn't anyone else to turn to. Dumbledore was dead, the Order kept to the shadows too much, and the Ministry of Magic was a joke. It shouldn't be surprising to her that Harry had become a conveniently-placed icon for the magical community to turn to; she herself had once felt that way, after all. But that hope was now being tried, and she worried that by the time Harry resurfaced the magical community would come to hate him for proving to be human, and not the saviour-figure they so clearly wanted him to be.

She checked her watch. Ten minutes had passed, yet the goblin guards had only allowed one visitor past their security posts. She wondered if she could get a message to the twins about how long this was taking, but she didn't have an owl, or anyone with her (which in and of itself would probably send her mother into a conniption). Sending a Patronus would draw too much attention (especially as using Patronuses in such a way was one of the Order's closest secrets); and she didn't think it was a good idea to engrave a message on highly-realistic counterfeit coins while standing in the middle of Gringotts bank. It wasn't until over an hour had passed that she finally reached the security goblins, who ran her over with the Secrecy Sensors, and then asked for her wand. As Ginny handed it to one, he waved his instruments over it, and checked the results. She saw his eyebrows jump a little.

"Name?" he asked tonelessly.

Ginny swallowed, and looked around, before leaning forward and hissing, "Ginevra Weasley."

The goblin's pointed ears twitched. "Sorry?"

She moved closer. "Ginevra Weasley!"

She thought she saw him smirk for a split second, but then he simply asked, "Can you tell me your wand measurements?"

"Er…." She thought for a second. "Maple, phoenix feather, and twelve inches, I think."

"Business?"

"Making a deposit."

He shrugged. "Go on through. Next!"

With that, he stepped aside for her to go through, yet again allowing her into the bank with few questions. Ginny knew that the goblins probably didn't have the time to question every customer for five to ten minutes, so surely would be tougher on some than on others, but all the same, she was bewildered; for them to allow her through with such ease, three times in a row, was a bit odd.

As she resumed her place behind the couple (this time they were only second in line), the witch looked at her in mild amazement. "They let you through quickly."

Ginny shrugged. "Guess I'm just lucky."

"Sure were," the wizard said grumpily. "I was getting sick of that git shoving his probe up me"—

"Harold!" the witch scolded, but Ginny giggled. The witch then looked at her appraisingly, and then remarked, "You look about Hogwarts age."

Ginny shrugged.

"Did you know Harry Potter at all? You would have been there when he was, right?"

"Mabel, don't badger the girl," Harold berated his wife, though he too looked curious.

"Er…." She was a little taken aback. "A little. We were in the same house, but not the same year."

"Still," Mabel persisted, "you probably know more about him than I do. So what do you think about him disappearing?"

Ginny paused, deliberating over her answer, trying to think of a way to reassure them a little without giving away anything either about Harry or herself. Then she settled with a vague, "Abandoning this world in a show of protest against Scrimgeour? Definitely not his style."

To her relief, at that moment the couple were called forward, but she was satisfied to see a flicker of hope cross their faces.

Ginny had only had to wait for a few more minutes before she was called forward herself, much to her relief. Checking her watch as she approached, she was annoyed to see that she'd been out for about an hour and a half. The goblin who had beckoned her over leaned back in his desk, twiddling his thumbs and looking bored. As soon as Ginny took her seat, he looked at a piece of paper on his desk, and then at her with interest. Then he remarked quietly, "That's an interesting look, Miss Weasley."

"Er, thanks." She hesitated, then handed him her paycheck. "I need to deposit that."

The goblin looked it over carefully, and consulted his list again. "Vault?"

"Twelve-hundred and sixty-two."

"That's in accordance with this information," the goblin answered. Then he handed her a deposit slip. "Please fill that out."

Ginny took the quill he offered her, and began writing, occasionally pausing to look at him, making sure she was doing it right. She then handed the slip back to him. He looked at it carefully, told her that it seemed to be in order, and put it in a slot in his desk. There was a loud click, and the goblin removed it.

"The correct amount of gold shall be deposited momentarily," he informed her. "Shall you be withdrawing any?"

Ginny looked at the long line at the back of the hall, where people were waiting for an escort to their vaults. She shook her head. "Not today. They're expecting me at work."

"Very well." The goblin put the form and her paycheck away. "Good day, Miss Weasley."

Ginny stood, and made her way to a roped off area where customers were directed to exit the building. As she moved down this empty path, she passed Rok Grimrook, the goblin who helped her gain access to her vault; he gave her a cordial nod as she passed. Ginny then glanced at her watch, and with an irritated sigh she stepped out the doors, nodding to the guards as she passed them.

She didn't take a single step further, however, before it happened.

A loud explosion echoed down Diagon Alley, and then Ginny saw flashes of green and red in the distance, the kind of green she knew meant the Killing Curse, followed by people screaming and running. Two Aurors patrolling at her end of the alley drew wands and took off towards the source of the noise, and Ginny drew her wand too. Before she could take a single step forward, however, two pairs of long-fingered hands suddenly seized her from behind and dragged her back through the bank's entrance.

"Let me go, my brothers are down there!" she yelled at the goblins. But they ignored her and the moment she was back inside, they shouted something in Gobbledegook. Then the double doors slammed shut, and a magical light shimmered and worked its way through the doors' cracks, and then, before her eyes, the doors transmuted into the same marble as the exterior walls, sealing them in.

Having heard the noise outside, the customers in the lobby and entrance hall all paused to look around. When they saw the sealed doors and listened to the muffled noise outside, and when they saw a stray Killing Curse sail past one of the windows (which likewise began to shimmer and turn to marble), they panicked. The sounds of shouting, screaming, and crying filled the bank, and for several chaotic moments the customers tried to run towards the fireplaces, pressing into each other, knocking each other to the floor, and Ginny and the two guards backed against the wall for fear of being knocked over and crushed in the frenzy. She could see Gringotts employees frantically trying to organise the crowd and herd them into lines, but the crowd paid the goblins no attention.

Then, evidently seeing an opening in the crowd, the two guards insistently pulled Ginny along the side of the entrance hall and behind some employees' desks, moving in the direction of the bank's administrative offices. Then she saw Rok Grimrook climb onto the front desk and wave his hand in front of his throat, and then he opened his mouth and, his voice magically amplified, bellowed, "SILENCE!"

Fortunately, this succeeded in prompting the hall to fall quiet, and for customers to turn and look at Grimrook warily. The guards continued to lead Ginny away, but she could hear Grimrook quickly giving his reassurances that the Death Eaters would not be able to breach the doors or windows, before giving directions for the customers to form groups of ten, and instructing the employees to escort them to the bank's escape fireplaces in an orderly fashion. She didn't see much more, however, before the two guards all but shoved her through a door in the back of the chamber. Ignoring her protests and her confused inquiries, the guards half-dragged her down a narrow corridor and then through a larger door into what looked like a dining hall for the employees, where, at the far end of the room, a fire roared merrily in a large fireplace. A third goblin followed them in and muttered something to the guards in Gobbledegook, before he took Ginny by the arm and marched her to the fireplace, handing her a bag of Floo Powder.

Ginny took it but didn't use it. "What is going on?" she demanded. "Why'd you take me back here and not herd me out with anyone else?"

"You're most welcome," one of the guards muttered sarcastically.

The third goblin, which she now registered was dressed in the uniform of one of the bank administrators, levelled a stern gaze at her. "Given Monday's paper, it's not beyond the realm of possibility that the Death Eaters are in Diagon Alley for you, Miss Weasley. If that's the case, you'd heighten the risk by remaining here, or by joining the fighting."

Ginny stared at him, slack-jawed. "How do you know who I am?" Then, in a more indignant voice, she demanded, "Does the security tell everyone when I'm in the building?"

The administrator, instead of answering, gestured insistently at the Floo Powder. Realising that she'd get no more from him, Ginny scowled and took a handful of powder, and gave him back the bag before sprinkling the powder into the fire.

As she stepped into the bright green flames, just before giving the address of her destination, she heard the administrator say, "Do tell William that Menger Gadlak sends his regards."

Ginny started at the familiar name, but at that moment the younger Gadlak turned and began moving towards the door without another word. The guards glared at Ginny, and followed Gadlak out the door. Realising she only had moments before the flames went back to normal, she loudly enunciated the address.

When she stepped out into the sitting room of Grimmauld Place moments later, she found the place completely silent. After looking into the dining room and kitchen, the book room, and some of the upstairs rooms, she found the place completely empty, except for Luna, who she found in her bedroom with her nose buried in one of her old Ancient Runes textbooks. Ginny then realised that any members of the Order who had been at headquarters must have taken off for Diagon Alley the moment they heard what was happening. Settling in her bedroom, Ginny thought back to Fred and George, and could only hope that the wards around the shop had held. She knew the twins' emergency procedures, and knew that they probably weren't in the alley fighting Death Eaters, but rather sealing off the shop entrance and, like the Gringotts goblins, herding their customers towards their fireplaces.

It then occurred to her that the twins didn't know she was already at Grimmauld Place, and probably would not leave Diagon Alley themselves until they knew where she was. Silently thanking Tonks for showing her how the Order sent messages, Ginny took her wand out and thought hard about the message she wanted to send. She then cried, "Expecto Patronum!"

Her horse Patronus shot from her wand and out an open window. That done, Ginny put her wand away and sank onto her bed, knowing that there was little else to do now but wait for news, to her frustration; she hated waiting.

But she had not been able to sit back for two seconds when she felt something in her pocket burn sharply. Ginny hissed in surprise and reached into her pocket, a moment later pulling out her D.A. contact Galleon, but she found it cool. She then took out the Sickle she'd been experimenting with. As it cooled down, she saw minuscule, clumsy writing appear on the sides of the coin. It took a moment for her to decipher it.

VMN—DE attack. Send help. NL

Ginny stared at the coin, and then she remembered giving one of the experimental Sickles to Neville. Leaping to her feet, she ran out into the hall and looked around wildly. No one in the Order was at headquarters. While she was certain that they knew where the Longbottoms lived, she was equally certain that if they were at Diagon Alley, or anywhere else the Death Eaters might have attacked, then there was no way they could receive a message from her that would alert them in time to rescue the Longbottoms.

"Luna!" she shouted, running back down the hall. A moment later, Luna peered out from her room, looking at Ginny bemusedly. "Luna, quick, d'you know where Neville lives?"

"Yes, Ipswich," Luna replied.

"His address, Luna!"

"Oh! Number Six, Sherrington Road." Luna looked curious, and then she frowned, seeing Ginny's urgency. "He's in trouble, isn't he?"

Ginny nodded. Then, to her amazement, Luna suddenly snapped from her usual dreamy demeanour to a business-like mode, and drew her wand. "Better not waste time, then."

Ginny grinned determinedly, and without another word, the two of them ran back down the stairs and, for the third time that morning, Ginny grabbed a handful of Floo Powder and threw it into the grate.

When she stepped out of the Longbottoms' fireplace seconds later, the first thing she was aware of was that there was a lot of smoke, causing her to cough violently and her eyes to sting. She could also hear yelling and the sound of curses flying, but she could barely see anything. Luna stumbled out of the fireplace, knocking into her, and a second later, Ginny heard her cough, "Ventilo!"

The smoke quickly cleared, and Ginny saw that they were standing in a well-furnished sitting room, but unfortunately there were several doors, and no visible sign of Neville or his grandmother. Ginny drew her wand and took the nearest door, where the noise was loudest. She cautiously moved down a narrow hallway, and then looked around a corner, which led down a staircase. From her vantage point, she could just see the black robes of Death Eaters through the door at the lower landing, firing spell after spell through the doorway, causing wooden splinters and plaster to blast from the doorframe, the wall, and the stairs, which, she noted, looked damaged but still usable. Crouched by the wall framing the door, his wand out, was Neville. His grandmother lay crumpled beside him, pulled out of the line of fire, and Neville occasionally looked around the wall to fire a curse, but Ginny could see that he was bleeding profusely from his wand arm. Judging by the smoke and the flickering orange light she could see reflected on the wall, a fire had started somewhere in the house.

A couple of curses flew through the doorway, and Ginny ducked behind the corner again. "He's at the bottom of those stairs," she whispered to Luna. "His gran's unconscious. He's holding them off, but there's too much spellfire to approach."

"Then we should distract the Death Eaters, preferably without getting killed," Luna said sagely.

Ginny growled in frustration, wishing Fred and George were there. Apart from Peeves the Poltergeist, they were better at causing chaos than anyone she knew, and almost certainly would know how to create a diversion sufficient to get Neville and his gran to their sitting room and the fireplace. But then, at the thought of her brothers, and the mayhem they'd caused to make life hell for Umbridge at Hogwarts, she remembered something from earlier that morning and reached into her jacket pocket, praying that it was still there. To her relief, she felt the small packet, and pulled it from her pocket. Luna caught sight of it, and calmly remarked, "That could actually work."

Another curse shot through the door. Ginny tapped the device with her wand, inhaled deeply, and, in a moment of determined madness, she ran out until she was almost in front of the doorway, and flung the Catherine Wheel at the Death Eaters in the other room. She then ducked behind Neville, barely avoiding a lethal-looking purple hex, which blasted a hole in the stairs.

"Ginny?" Neville mumbled. "Wha—"

BANG.

A deafening explosion rocked the house as the firework erupted into life, followed by a sinister hissing, whistling sound as it spun and sent out huge jets of pink fire and sparks. Ginny could hear the Death Eaters yelling in fright, but she didn't stop to watch. She tried to pull Neville to his feet, but his face was chalk-white and he looked confused.

Luna rushed down the stairs and looked at him. "He's losing a lot of blood. You take him. I'll take care of Mrs Longbottom."

She pointed her wand at Neville's grandmother, and said, "Mobilicorpus!"

Mrs Longbottom floated into the air, hanging limply. As Luna began to levitate her up the stairs, Ginny took a few seconds to peer around the corner and into the other room, her wand drawn in case one of the Death Eaters managed to get through the barrage of pink sparks. She could see the Death Eaters trying to put out the firework with Aguamenti. The nearest pointed his wand at the Catherine Wheel and yelled, "Evanesco!"

Rather than vanish, however, ten more Catherine Wheels sprung from the original. The Death Eaters' shouting increased, and she could see that some had caught fire. Then she saw one, giving up on destroying the fireworks, try to dodge around them.

"Stupefy!" she shouted, catching the distracted Death Eater in the chest, and he stumbled backwards, unconscious. At the same time, one of the Catherine Wheels changed direction and zoomed through the door. Ginny swore, ducking out of the way barely in time. She then looked fearfully up the stairs, but fortunately Luna seemed to have gotten Mrs Longbottom around the corner and out of the way in time. Unfortunately, the firework was hovering near the top of the stairs, with no sign of slowing down. A stray spell again sailed through the door. Deciding then and there to risk the Catherine Wheel over the Death Eaters, Ginny grabbed Neville's uninjured arm and pulled him to his feet.

Neville stumbled by the stairs and nearly fell over, but Ginny, throwing all her weight forward, just managed to keep him up as she hauled him up the first step, before giving herself a second, and no more than a second, to study the condition of the stairs. Then she hauled Neville up, trying carefully to manoeuvre him past the hole left by the Death Eaters curses. A horrible creaking sound met her ears, and Ginny felt the damaged step lurch, unable to support Neville's weight. Horrified, she shoved Neville forward, past the step, which gave way under her left foot. Ginny seized the handrail to avoid falling, but Neville, slumped on the steadier steps ahead, about to roll back down, his feet dangling over the hole. He was clinging to the baluster of the handrail with one blood-soaked hand, and this alone stopped him from falling, but she could see his fingers starting to slip. Ginny glanced backward, at the blazing room past the door, but though she could hear yelling and incantations, she could not see that the Death Eaters were any closer to making it through the door. Swinging her leg forward to the next step, Ginny hauled herself forward before grabbing Neville's arm and pulling him upwards. Neville grunted with pain, but, still clinging to the baluster, he helped pull himself forward enough for Ginny to haul him back to his feet. At the top of the stairs, the Catherine Wheel was still spinning and furiously spraying pink sparks, and as she drew closer, Ginny covered her face and ducked down as she tried to manoeuvre Neville past it.

In an instant, she felt a searing pain on the top of her head and smelled burning hair, and at the same time she saw Neville's robes catch fire. Ginny cried out in pain, but instinctively she threw Neville forward, out of the firework's range, and then turned her wand on herself.

"Aguamenti!"

In an instant, the flames burning in her hair were out. The moment she turned her wand to put out Neville's robes, however, the pain came back in full force. Ginny felt tears sting her eyes, but forced herself to ignore the intense burning sensation on her scalp. Groaning, Neville reached up again and Ginny again pulled his arm over her shoulder. He clambered to his feet.

"Avada Kedavra!" she heard someone nearby shout. Ginny instinctively ducked, and the curse missed. Half-dragging Neville down the hall, and trying not to let the intense pain distract her, she arrived at the sitting room and threw Neville inside, before turning and brandishing her wand, just as the Death Eater managed to manoeuvre his way past the Catherine Wheel.

"Incarcerous!" she shouted.

The Death Eater ducked, but in his distraction he was caught from behind by some sparks from the firework. Ginny saw his robes ignite, and she retreated into the sitting room, where she found Neville slumped on the floor, unconscious from blood loss.

"Bugger! Mobilicorpus!"

As she levitated Neville across the room towards the fireplace, it unexpectedly flashed green and Luna came back through. "Thought you might still need help!"

There was a loud crack, and the frame of the doorway Ginny had just come through burst into splinters. She yelled in shock, distracted, which caused Neville to drop to the floor. Luna then cried, "Mobilicorpus!" and then seconds later, "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!"

Ginny looked in time to see her and Neville vanish from sight. She then turned and threw a Bat-Bogey Hex around the corner blindly. A retaliatory curse sailed passed her, and she felt its heat. Her scalp again flared with burning pain, and Ginny gasped. But, her eyes streaming, she forced herself forward, and flung her wand around the corner again.

"Expulso!" she shrieked.

There was a huge explosion on the other end of the hall, and Ginny heard the Death Eater scream; but she didn't linger. Instead she turned and bolted for the fireplace, which fortunately was still lit. She then spotted a box of Floo Powder on the mantelpiece, and seized a handful and threw it in the fire. Looking over her shoulder, she stepped in and cried, "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!"

She caught a glimpse of the bruised and bleeding Death Eater coming around the corner just as she vanished into the Floo Network. The last thing she heard, before the agony and the spinning dragged her into a heavy, suffocating darkness, was his howl of rage.