Sympathetic Properties

by Mr Norrell

Having been treated as a servant his entire life, Harry is more sympathetic when Dobby arrives, avoiding Vernon's wrath and gaining a bit of freedom. That freedom changes his summer, his life, and the world forever. A very long character-driven story that likes to play with canon.

27. There's Always the Chance of Bacon

AN: The events of this year and the year before are going to fundamentally alter the nature of Wizarding Britain to its very core in ways even I'm not 100% sure about. After an untold number of years of stagnation, the wizarding world is finally going to change; that change takes time though and isn't some subplot, it's a story unto itself and must be seen as such.

That being said, let's get on with it.

.o0O0o.

Alastor Moody never liked giving up an advantage but with the operation taking place in broad daylight in the heart of London brooms were out of the question, at least until they got a reading on the capabilities of the enemy. Even Disillusioned, the fliers would leave rippling traces as they passed through the air – and even muggles were sure to notice them – so Secrecy demanded they had to be avoided unless the attack specifically called for it. Plus, if things went bad – or the enemy's defensive structure proved more resistant than it looked, which was likely – there was the chance that their own spells would bounce off and take out more of their own than any enemy would, which was a complication you didn't need in the air.

They'd be left on foot and denied any chance at a height advantage. The room overlooking the entryway to Diagon Alley wasn't ideal either but the only rooftop which could provide a view of the entire alley would be Gringotts itself, which was out of the question. A spell on the windows obscured anyone from looking in while they were free to look out to coordinate and pick their positions. The bank being so large gave the goblins and their I.C.W. allies the advantage of being able to pop out from any window they wanted, but it also gave them a larger area to defend.

Their job was not to attack though but to defend, if necessary. They were to give a reassuring display of Ministerial power by being noticeable, but should any advance make its way out of the bank it would be blunted by a quickly formed barricade on either side of the street while reinforcements were called for. The rest would see to the evacuation of the alleyway before he would decide where best to use them. One of their number wasn't content at slowly coming to grips with how this could very well be for real and his magical eye spun to the youngest member of their group just as he opened his mouth.

"I don't even see what we're doing here," the young blond grumbled to the older lad beside him. "Seems rather stupid to me."

Jameson cut himself off when he saw Alastor looking at him, and then colored deeply when everyone's attention focused on him. The wood floor made his artificial leg thump loudly as he made his way menacingly over to the boy. The lad's mouth opened and closed a time or two, his ability to speak temporarily lost due to being singled out.

"You have something to add?" he barked, pinning the boy down with both eyes.

"N–n–no, sir," Jameson stammered.

"You sure?" Alastor pressed, swiveling his magical eye around to gauge the reaction of the crowd; they seemed more embarrassed for the kid than anything else. "If you've got something to say then say it, before whatever you see gets everyone killed."

That changed people's attitudes faster than buckets of ice water.

"I – I was just–," Jameson said looking around at all the now-concerned faces as he hunted for a better way to say things. "–Just wondering where the Hit Wizards were in this," he said finally. "It seems like something along their lines. Right?"

Alastor wasn't surprised the kid had heard the tripe the Ministry put out about how diverse and well-organized their system was but believing it was another matter entirely. Practical experience in the last year should've shown the kid when he was being lied to. He paused for a moment to consider how hard he could hit the bureaucrats above him without it getting back to them and have them drum him out of the Ministry in response, but then an unsettling thought caused the whole world to go widdershins.

'Maybe I'm wrong,' he thought. 'A Hit Wizard's job is to charge in shouting spells without pausing to think about why they were doing it; an Auror is supposed to question, and it's been a long time since I've questioned anything – let alone myself.'

International agreements prohibited the creation of wizarding armies, but that didn't stop the Ministry from pushing the Auror Corps forward as their soldiers during the war. They even disbanded the local Constabularies and Fly-By-Night patrols the D.M.L.E. had in order to swell their ranks. Hit Wizards had been scaled back, held in reserve, and generally lost their importance as their job was foisted on the Auror Corps as time went on and things got worse. Pushing Scrimgeour to make Aurors into weapons like the Hit Wizards had been would solve one problem and create another.

'You can't hammer people into acting without thinking and expect them to question why things are happening,' Alastor grumbled to himself.

The Ministry needed a heavy hitting iron core of small scale soldiers who could kill without their conscience crippling them later. They had to be a small force – and using them a rare event – or it would only incentivize those at the top to clamp down on dissent harder and harder for smaller and smaller infractions, and that would make the Ministry no better than Death Eaters. With an inward groan he knew reforming the way things were done was going to be a much bigger task than he had first thought.

"If you were the Minister of Magic," Alastor said with a squint of his good eye. "And suspected the goblins might attack – but were confident they couldn't pierce the Ministry – where would you put your men?" he asked Jameson.

It was a common kind of question to ask when training cadets on how these missions were handled but not one Jameson would've heard before. They were usually well into their second or third year of training before the topic was broached and afterwards it wasn't mentioned again unless they showed an aptitude for command. If they were going to reform anything then his Aurors needed to think, because when it came down to it the Ministry needed all three prongs when fighting crime: the officers on the street maintaining good relations with the locals and handling small affairs, the ones who took charge of larger issues – who investigated the scene, traced things back to their source, and infiltrated as much as possible in order to gain information – and the break-down-your-door-and-bludgeon-you Beater brigade.

"If – Well, if they wanted to cause carnage," the blond-haired young man started. "Their focus would be here," Jameson said, reiterating the basic briefing they had back at the Ministry. "So I'd put my forces here."

"Why?" Alastor smiled, knowing the disconcerting affect that his smile had on people.

"Why to which?" the boy asked.

"Why to both," he replied, pressing the lad to get him to start his brain.

"Be–because they live here," Jameson responded as if it were obvious.

"And they have wizards with them to take them wherever they want to go," he pointed out, swiveling his eye around to peer outside to make sure they weren't observed.

"Then–then I'd keep some at the Ministry just to make sure it was safe," the lad said, mind working furiously to come up with anything that wasn't in the briefing he'd been given. "And some in Hogsmeade," he continued, looking like his attempt at originality was failing miserably. "But most of the force should be here at the most likely source of attack. It might make them reconsider entirely or if they did attack elsewhere we could quickly divert forces or counter-attack here."

"Then why aren't Hit Wizards here?" Alastor asked, flipping the boy's question around on him.

"Sir?" a puzzled Jameson asked.

"Don't 'sir' me, you're the Minister of Magic," he reminded the boy. "Why aren't the Hit Wizards here?"

"I – I don't know," the young lad answered.

"Really?" Alastor asked with mock surprise. "They've got to be somewhere. You're tucked up safe and sound in the Ministry but your family and friends are scattered about all over the country. What are they going to say – or those big, rich political supporters of yours – if you let the goblins attack and do nothing to keep them safe?"

"B–but–," Jameson looked properly bludgered now, and so did several others. "Why would the Ministry assign the Hit Wizards there when they could have us do it instead?"

His magical eye scanning the assembled Aurors, Alastor saw an older face to the right fall and take on a sickly color. He should've expected that one to get it; word around the office was he had just started dating one of the Ministry-working muggleborns. Alastor pointed to him without turning his head from Jameson.

"Say it," he snapped.

Jameson blinked and glanced nervously around, unsure who he was talking to.

"Come on, Robards, out with it," Alastor ordered.

"Because the Ministry values those people more than everyone else," the other Auror said numbly.

The simple truth no one had dared to say held them all in silence.

"And more than they value any of us, which is why we work together," Alastor added after a moment, this time addressing everyone there; Jameson looked relieved just to be a bit further away from him. "Now let's get this one thing very clear," he said gruffly, pausing to impress the moment into their memory. "We're not here because the Ministry expects something to happen; we're here because if something does happen, we're the only protection these people have."

His team properly motivated, it was time for final orders.

"Barricade teams, you know who you are and what to do. Williamson, I want you up on the roofs on the left side of the alley, near the bank," Alastor said to one ponytailed Auror. "Hitchens, you take the right," he said to a woman with an eye patch. Just because the bank itself gave the goblins a height advantage didn't mean he wasn't going to try to get it where he could.

Robards looked at him questioningly as the bulk of the group left the room but held his tongue as he looked to be puzzling his motivations out. Though both of those named were solid choices, by seniority the older fellow ranked above either and if anyone was going to be put in such an open position the man would have taken it on himself. Alastor had other plans for the one brain here that could be triggered to think though.

The ponytail may have made Williamson look stupid but he wasn't. Kingsley praised his defensive charms and that's what he wanted on those roofs; the barricades had to be protected and the ones protecting them had to be able to protect themselves. The Hitchens woman had declined to get her eye replaced like he had but Alastor knew with a Supersensory Charm she could see like anyone else. And, now everyone was used to the patch, perhaps he could get Rufus to talk her into it; having one didn't mean she had to give up the eye patch and his replacement eye had been worth losing the original one twice over.

After pausing for a moment to picture himself as one of those lizards with the eyes that moved in different directions he sent the others off with orders ranging from finding defensible positions in the alley they could use to just milling about and calming the shopkeepers, who'd no doubt be spooked at the sight of so many Aurors. They were his reserve but he had to give them something to do until he called on them. When he was finally left with Jameson and Robards he cancelled the concealment on the windows and headed for the door.

"You'll be with me today, Robards," Alastor said as he hit the hallway.

"Er – and what will I be doing, sir?" blond-haired Jameson asked, almost sounding like he'd prefer to be overlooked.

"Apparition doesn't work in the Alley," he explained. "So you're going to be our Runner. You sit your butt by the fireplace and if we get a message from the Ministry, you run and let me know what it is. In the meantime, learn to use that brain of yours. Think you can do that?"

Alastor didn't wait for his response any more than he waited for Robards to follow him downstairs. Jameson's muttered comment could be a young man's insolence, vanity, or laziness but at least he was questioning things in some form or fashion. Once upon a time Aurors had lived on questions and discerning answers, now they lived on procedure – and paranoia, if they listened to him at all. What was best for him now was to be left with his questions and shaken confidence; the boy would either embrace them and learn to look out for himself and others or he'd leave – many did.

It was in the alleyway that Robards finally broke his silence.

"Wouldn't it be wiser to send them all home?" he asked, looking around at the trickle of early morning shoppers.

"It'd be safer, perhaps, but not always wiser."

Robards gave a grudging nod. "We're not here to stop them from living their life," the man said in a rough approximation of Alastor's own growl. "Just to protect them while they do."

Alastor gave him a look with his magical eye and the man didn't even have the grace to blush. Why did he always end up pairing himself off with the ones who thought they were funny?

As the bank came into view he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary, no one peering down from the roof or spying on the street from the windows, and no spell work done for additional concealment. There seemed to be layers of protections on the building itself though, but that wasn't unexpected. The doors were still shut and there was only one nervous-looking teller outside to take deposits and issue cheques but all told the place looked no different than it had the day before.

The barricade teams looked to be in good positions and the angles from the bank windows didn't seem as advantageous as he had first thought. Alastor gave them both a nod and turned back to make his way down the alley again to meet up with the others as he reached out through his magical eye to peek into the bank itself. Whatever enchantments they had put on the doors over the years weren't enough to keep him out, but they did slow him down something frightful – at least he thought it was frightful until he saw what was in the lobby, and then he almost shit himself.

.o0O0o.

"Is that thunder?" Barchoke asked as the sound of a rumbling roar and diving crash somewhere in the distance drew his attention away from the dense foliage surrounding them. Looking up at the overcast sky, he wondered what else would go wrong today.

"I think it's the waves again," Bankor said as he lowered the hood of the bulky muggle child's coat he had gotten somewhere. He looked behind them before turning back to the chart he carried, turning it over again. "I think I have this upside down."

When they had initially planned for the advance team to arrive early, secure the portkey arrival point, and pinpoint the wardstone they needed to nullify it had been seen as a rather quick and easy task to do, after all, they had the old map showing where it was. The main island was described as a barren chunk of rock in the middle of the North Sea, but it had been made six hundred years ago and there were things growing here now. Flamel or his visitors must have made some improvements along the way for a change of scenery.

As the time for the attack drew nearer, more and more teams had arrived to find the first task still undone. The foliage had made it impossible to know whether what they were looking for was ten feet away or on the other side of the island, though it also made it easy to hide themselves from the compound. The last thing they needed was to walk into an enemy who was prepared for them while they were still disorganized.

It was getting very close to the designated time and everyone seemed to be getting a little jumpy, or at least Barchoke felt that way. With each passing second it became harder to justify not calling off the search and proceeding without it. Strictly speaking, nullifying the wardstone wasn't absolutely essential but leaving it in place meant scrapping the plan to keep them from being double-crossed and, since that had been his big contribution – at least the one with the greatest chance of success – he didn't want to give it up and look like he didn't know what he was doing.

"The tower is back that way," Bankor muttered to himself as he glanced to the right. "And the portkey point is behind us," he said as Barchoke moved over to check the map with him again. "So it should mean the wardstone is right about here," the other goblin gestured to the clearing around them where they had gone off to confer amongst themselves after the teams had searched it for a third time.

"You think it could be over that way?" Barchoke asked, pointing in the direction the I.C.W. head wizard had just gone to search.

Bankor seemed to study the plants in that direction for a moment before answering.

"It may be," he said finally. "The goblins who made this didn't seem to know anything about drawing to scale, at least when it came to things above ground. I'm not looking forward to exploring though," the Little Minister said unnerved at the very thought of it. "There's no telling which of these plants are poisonous. They could be carnivorous for all we know."

"Who's ever heard of a carnivorous plant?" Barchoke asked rhetorically.

In truth he wouldn't be opposed to some of those I.C.W. types finding their way into the jaws of some giant leafy beast. Their leader had been particularly testy when they had opened Confidential's most prized vault to find the Stone had indeed gone missing. He didn't get any nicer when none of the former department's workers seemed to know anything about it either, even going so far as to insinuate they had been killing them to cover up the truth, which was patently ridiculous. He may want to tear Dumbledore apart himself for what he did to Hammerhand but he wasn't about to do anything that'd let him get away with even more crimes because of it.

"I'm not saying there is, but who's to say there's not?" Bankor unnecessarily replied as he fought to fold the chart down so he could put it in his pocket. "If my contact in the Goblin Liaison Office is still working there tonight I can ask him; he may be able to find out."

"I'm surprised you were able to find a human worth working with," he said as he stooped to pick up a stick to poke at the potentially poisonous plants with. "It took a generation to find Lichfield and he gets moody at the best of times."

A sharp jab at a moss-covered stump had them suddenly under attack. The stump sprang to life; long, prickly, bramble-like vines shot out of the top and whipped through the air. Bankor beat a hasty retreat as one of the whirling vines smacked Barchoke in the face and another ripped the stick from his hands. After that he retreated as well.

It wasn't until they were halfway across the clearing again that the Whateveritwas stopped trying to kill them. He looked startlingly at Bankor but it looked like an 'I told you so' was beyond him. Barchoke hated to think a thousand years of living underground had left them amazingly ignorant of the natural world but it was a hard thing not to think when the proof had just hit him in the face.

"While there is a marked lack of sympathetic wizards in regards to the goblin perspective," the other goblin said choosing to completely disregard what had just happened. "Mr. Hobson's not above pointing out what he calls 'the inherent stupidities of wizarding culture' as well as offering up any solutions he has at hand, no matter what culture came up with them, be they wizarding or muggle."

"I've heard they prefer 'non-magical people,'" Barchoke said, feeling the need to reestablish some kind of supposed authority by minorly correcting the other goblin's choice of words. If Lichfield thought he'd make a habit of saying 'non-magical people-borns' or the like though he'd have another thing coming.

"I'll make a note of that when we get back," Bankor said without a hint of the sarcasm he would've used in his place. "It's precisely this openness to other perspectives, his Ministry experience, and his vigorous interest in learning about goblin culture which makes me see him as a valuable asset to acquire. And while I think he's a natural contender to head any new record keeping department, he's nonetheless preeminently qualified to explore and employ practical solutions in any post-Stone modernization of Gringotts in some other comparable capacity."

"Well, as long as he stamps that agreement he should get something for it," he replied. "You'll have a hard time convincing Gutripper though. One Marsh is bad enough; I can't imagine what it'd be like if we start opening more positions in management to humans."

"I'm glad you see it that way," the Little Minister smiled before continuing in the equivocating way of his. "And while it would precipitate a change in that regard, it would be somewhat inaccurate to refer to him as strictly human."

"What do you mean?" Barchoke asked curiously.

"I suppose the most accurate way to describe him," Bankor tentatively began, "would be to say that we all share a common familial history in some regards."

It was a bit of a baffling moment to see how that could possibly be but then it became much harder not to give the other goblin a look as the very unsettling realization dawned on him.

"He's a Brownblood," Barchoke said levelly.

"If someone wished to sum up such a thing in a single word, that would be a word they could use," Bankor said diplomatically.

"You can't be seriously suggesting–"

"–I'd gouge the table on it," Bankor interrupted him a bit pompously.

Barchoke looked at the other Overseer curiously. Bankor had interrupted him; he never interrupts anyone.

"You've never gouged the table on anything," he said suspiciously.

"Quite right," the other goblin agreed. "But until the other day, neither had you, and that's worked out well so far," he noted, and Barchoke had to agree he had a point. "I'd also point out he carries the part-goblin Ministerial classification," Bankor said back in his old way of speaking again. "This gives him a distinction which could be valuable to have."

"Such as?" Barchoke prompted.

"The ability to legally use wands," he replied with a smile. "The Code of Wand Use, passed by the Wizards' Council of England in 1631, decrees that 'no non-human creature is permitted to carry or use a wand,' but it further defines a human as those with 'provable human ancestry.' So while the equitable practice of allowing any creature to purchase and use a wand may never be reached–"

"–Using part of a wizarding bloodline for it could be work-around," Barchoke finished for him as he heard someone coming through the foliage towards them. "Something like that would require near unanimity," he said, knowing Marsh and Gutripper would be intransigent, the latter probably wouldn't allow anyone to overrule him, and everyone else would likely support him doing that. "We can discuss it sometime later."

'Hopefully much later,' he thought to himself. Employing them might be one thing, but overruling Gutripper, putting him down somehow, and then offering some kind of incentive program for others to breed with this Hobson just to create a caste of goblin wizards was something else entirely. There'd be no way the secretarial pool would let any of them walk away unbloodied after suggesting it. No matter how hopeful Bankor could be, some things just weren't able to be changed.

Out of the greenery not too far from the formerly flailing stump came a huffing young human male in more than rumpled robes. Apparently there was more than just angry stumps out here. He scanned them both as he came to a stop.

"Sorry," he said in a heavy accent as he caught his breath. "But vich is Overseer Birch-oak?"

"You find something?" Barchoke asked in response.

"Yis, sir," the young man smiled. "Ve found it," he said gesturing to the wall of green he just came out of.

"I'll go check to see if there's any news from the Ministry," Bankor said quickly before the coward retreated back to the arrival point.

"Lead the way," he told the human with a wave.

Moving through all the plants and things was slow going; there were leaves, and dirt, and knobby branches everywhere. The levels below Gringotts might not be as luxurious as the levels above but there was a lot to be said about cold, hard, well-dressed stone. The young human was courteous enough to hold back some of the more troublesome obstacles but even then Barchoke knew his suit would probably be ruined by the time he got out of here. Still, he supposed it could be worse; at least it wasn't raining.

They finally arrived at a tiny clearing and looking back the way he'd come he had a hard time judging how far it was back to the clearing he'd just left. In the midst of this new clearing they found the I.C.W.'s pudgy Deputy Inspector General, Jean-Olivier Delacour running his hands along a large weathered stone jutting from the ground with all sorts of wizarding runes carved on it. After a moment he removed one of his hands from the stone so he could stroke his pointed black beard.

"I 'ave never seen anything like zis before," he grinned when he saw Barchoke, which was a far cry from how he was the last time he saw the man. "Eet is charmant! I am looking forward to studying zis very much."

"You'll be able to cancel its effects, won't you?" he asked, hoping to remind the human of how easy he'd said it would be once they had gotten him there.

"Eet is different zan expected," Delacour said wiggling his hands in an equivocating manner. "Whoever made zis, zey did not use Arithmantic principles at all but string the runes together and zey spin off in many directions. We should be able to find ze parts you want to undo, don't worry."

Somehow the man didn't look too confident but Barchoke's concern was short lived. Through the undergrowth came the sounds of intense chopping coming towards them from the direction they'd just come.

"Aleksei, would you?" the older wizard asked, gesturing to the noise before turning back to the wardstone. The younger human withdrew his wand and cast a spell which made all the plants and branches bend over backwards to move out of the way.

'Doesn't look like foreign wizards are any smarter than ours or he would have done that for us,' Barchoke groused to himself.

A guard led Bankor's way into the small clearing sheathing his weapon and some distance behind them he could see another wizard coming up behind with a broom in hand.

"These just arrived," the other Overseer said happily as he handed over several parchments as they moved off to one side to talk.

"Ha! Perfect!" Barchoke cried, the most unlikely part of his mad gamble actually paying dividends. "Tell Overseer Gutripper to ready the attack," he said turning to the accompanying guard.

"Yes, sir!" the goblin said, saluting before returning down the magical pathway, almost knocking over the approaching wizard by refusing to move.

"Thank you, Mr. Hobson," he said appreciatively as he checked the Ministry's official seal. "Good work," Barchoke said, nodding to Bankor.

"It just goes to show what can be accomplished when goblin and wizard work together," the other Overseer said. "By way of complete disclosure though," he said tentatively when Barchoke started to move toward the wardstone, causing him to halt again. "I know you wanted no humans involved on our side of things, but once I learned Mr. Hobson was going to be subjected to many hours of unnecessary overtime I felt that Litigator Lichfield would be our best means of approaching him at the Ministry. As it happened, he had his own reasons to be there today as well."

Instantly Barchoke felt a niggling sense of conflict. He had put in place the temporary ban on human involvement as a way of sidelining Marsh and any other human like him who would've gone running to the Ministry in the hopes of spoiling their plans. Naturally, he had never intended to include Lester in it but never specifically said as much, so what was he to do?

Had it been Marsh or Gutripper who'd gone against his wishes there would've been only one reason behind it: to undermine his position and take him down. And while his 'gouge the table' moment earlier was certainly cause to worry, instead of using guile and deceit in order to attack, Bankor had used his specific knowledge of the people involved to support his plan and give it the best chance of working. If he did nothing it could signal the others that his wishes could be countermanded or subverted with impunity – not something you wanted if you wished to have a long career at the top – but if he did act against him then he'd be punishing him for success.

When he thought of it, actually approaching the Ministry hadn't been something he'd been thinking about then and if there had been one human he couldn't have objected to they would have assumed it'd be Lester. And with Lester so heavily involved in everything else so far, Bankor had probably thought it only a tiny risk to take seeing as all the gains that could be made for them all. So in a way it wasn't him countermanding his wishes, he had–

Barchoke looked at the Overseer shrewdly.

'He had employed a "practical solution based on wizarding culture,"' he thought to himself.

When he really considered the circumstances, having someone else involved in the decision-making process by contributing ideas not only increased the likelihood of success but lessened the chance that failure could be used against him since at least one other person shared responsibility. One of the strangest things about his unofficial – and potentially temporary – position in the hierarchy was the way everyone seemed eager not just to get along but to make proposed ideas better. If he could make this their standard practice…

"While I can't deny the results," Barchoke said just as tentatively as anything Bankor had ever done. "And appreciate the lengths you went to in order to get them, I would like to be kept informed of any sort of change like that – just to make sure we don't see the same potential problem developing and give conflicting orders in the future."

"A sensible precaution," the other goblin agreed with a nod before gesturing for Barchoke to lead the way onward.

In their moment of Gringotts political maneuvering they had lost the chance to immediately press Delacour on the agreement and the assault for when they got to him he was already talking to the broom-carrying wizard.

"–Actually, sir, security seemed remarkably lax," the wind-blown wizard said in response to something which caused an immediate spike in Barchoke's agitation.

'How dare he say goblins are lax!' he seethed before his mind caught up to remind him that these were the enemy goblins the wizard was talking about.

"The Anti-Apparition Field is in place though," the wizard continued. "As are the back-up Muggle-Repelling Charms and Unplottability Wards. Emergency portkeys will still work if they're needed but I don't think it'll come to that."

"Good," Barchoke said breaking into the conversation, only to find himself caught out when the humans turned to look at him. "Your men do good work," he reiterated to Delacour, uncomfortable dealing with humans he wasn't in a position of authority over. Committed to charging ahead anyway, he handed over the agreement with the Ministry. "Once we get your recognition on this, and the wardstone suppressed, it looks like we'll be ready to go," he finished pleasantly.

Delacour dismissed the reporting wizard with a wave and reached into the breast pocket of his robes to produce a pair of pince-nez glasses. The troublesome Frenchman seemed to take an extra-long time in perusing the document, undoubtedly to impress upon them the independence of his position more than anything else. He took so long that Bankor reached into his pocket to check the time before the wizard was finished.

"Eet seems as zough everything is een order," the Deputy Inspector General said, reaching into another pocket to produce his own official seal and placing the first copy onto the wardstone, presumably to use it like a desk for stamping. "Eet is good to see ze Eenglish Ministry being so accommodating een zis."

"We can only hope one day," Bankor said with a smooth smile, "cooperation between peoples here will be the norm rather than the exception – as it is in the I.C.W."

With a half-smile of his own, Delacour tipped his seal in a silly kind of faux salute before bringing it down on the wardstone. From in front of them came the sound of bones being snapped and the wizard jumped back in alarm. Along the serpentine line of runic forms breaks were forming of their own accord and the wardstone itself began to crumble.

"What deed I do?" Jean-Olivier asked with an ashen face as the stone tumbled down and the glasses fell from his nose. "What deed I do?"

"Does this mean–?" Barchoke began to ask only to be interrupted himself.

Aaarrrrrrooooooooooooooo! a reedy horn of a deep mine distress call cried out in the distance. It could only have come from the Tower. Aaarrrrrrooooooooooooooo! it called again.

"Do it!" he ordered Bankor in no little amount of panic; they couldn't allow the enemy time to prepare their defenses. "Now!"

The Little Minister fumbled with his coat until a bent muggle thing fell out of it. Stooping to pick it up, Bankor put his finger through a hole, pointed whatever it was at the sky, and activated the device. With a sizzling shrieking sound something shot out of the end and arced a hundred feet into the air, well above where the top of the bank would be if it were here, before a tiny pop! sounded and the projectile hissed and glowed a violent red against the sky.

In the distance Barchoke could faintly hear the distress call sound again and knew there would be an accompanying charge as Overseer Gutripper led the guards out of their hiding places and across the narrow strip of land separating the island they were on and Flamel's Compound. Where he stood all those sounds were drowned out by the beating of large leathery wings descending from the overcast sky. Goblin warriors on dragon mounts! It was an inspiring sight and made all the more so as the Deputy Inspector General's face took on a greenish hue as they flew overhead to blot out the sun.

"Make sure he stamps those other forms," Barchoke told Bankor as he snatched the one from Delacour's hand. "They better not kill everyone before I get there!" he cackled as he raced down the magically made pathway to join the streaming throng below.

.o0O0o.

Aaarrroooooooo! Aaarrroooooooo! Aaarrrrrrooooooooooooooo!

The sentries' panicked horns cried out again and again, summoning rear guard forces to protect them as they made ready to leave. Outside, shouted orders were given no one would follow in order to prepare defenses no one would need if all went according to plan. Appearances had to be maintained though or all would be lost; or so the wizard had said.

Razorwhip cursed as he pulled a pair of scared children out of their beds and hurried down to the storeroom at the guard tower's base. The fact they were his children made their squalling barely bearable but their true worth today came from them guaranteeing his own spot in the new life to come. He wished he knew more about what this new life would bring but whatever it was it had to be better than what they were leaving behind: a cold, wet rock in the middle of an endless sea with nothing to do but wait for an enemy that had never come.

Different enemies were coming now though and part of him wanted to face them rather than flee. Goblin versus goblin in a struggle to the death where both sides were trained to fight rather than the one-sided confrontations between Enforcers and the denizens of Below he'd heard stories of. Even if there was no way they could win it would be a glorious battle and one to tell their children about, but for it to happen though some of them would need to live through the day and have children to carry on the tale, and for that they'd have to flee.

"DRAGONS!" someone shouted down from above before a door slammed shut and a crackling rumble and muffled cries signaled the deaths at the top of the guard tower. His mewling children went silent as a heavy weight landed on the roof and moments later the door up above started to be broken in as heavy beats of leathery wings drew further and further away.

Razorwhip shouldered into the stuffed storeroom as the sound of weapons striking weapons sounded outside. As he made his way through the rings of goblins kneeling on the floor to reach the clutch of children in the center another goblin left the outer ring to lower the latch and block the door. Depositing his children with the others on top of the gathered food, clothing, and other resources they'd need in their new life he shot a look at the female who birthed them, a look she returned. He didn't know what she was so irritated about; she had forgotten the brats too.

"Places!" Tower Captain Flintstrike ordered and Razorwhip hurried to the outer ring to find an open spot on the magical lines the wizard had scrawled on the floor the night before.

Drawing his weapon long enough to slice the palm of his hand, he knelt down to press the oozing blood to the wizarding markings like all the others around him and looked to the door as he felt part of his strength flow out of him. This would be their salvation and revenge, their contribution to the battle no one expected them to win, for goblins had a power of their own. When obliteration was the goal, survival was victory.

When the wizard had given them his warning he had also offered them this new life, for he said he'd never abandon his friends. Facing the might of Gringotts and their wizarding allies, they snatched this gift faster than any objection could be raised. After all, if the fool wanted to pay them more for what they had already done, why should they turn it down?

The sound of breaking doors and tramping boots echoed through the tower as the ones who landed above stormed through the upper levels to root out any defenders and Razorwhip felt the draining feeling swell in response and the hairs on his arms prickled as a new feeling encompassed him. As uneasy as some were in trusting any wizard with so much, it wasn't like they hadn't trusted them before. Their families had served here for a generation or more and Flamel had even known some of them by name. If he chose to abandon them to their own devices then they had every right to find someone else to profit from.

Nervous muttering broke out as the tromp of their boots came ever closer.

"Hold!" Flintstrike cried as the new energetic feeling began to swell.

"Hold!" he cried again as they began to beat at the door to the storeroom and the air seemed to crackle with energy as the huddled children began to cry again.

This was it, Razorwhip knew. The door would open and power they had would be unleashed, transporting them to safety and scouring their enemies from their former home so no one could follow them. He wondered what their new life would be like and where they would be; somewhere warm he hoped: a lush, fat land ripe for the taking.

More pounding on the door saw it begin to break apart and in no time it was wrenched aside.

"NOW!" Flintstrike cried before the air pulsed in a white-hot flash.

.o0O0o.

The ring of metal against metal and the cries of the defenders' horns carried back to him. Heedless of any danger from whip-vine-things Barchoke dashed the plants aside so he could get a better look before rushing down the winding dirt path to the compound. The defenders seemed to be making good use of the natural bottleneck the thin strip of land provided to slow the advance of their main force but it did nothing to halt the advance from the air.

Winding his way down the dirt path, and trying desperately to keep his feet from running away on him and landing face down in the dirt, he saw the first dragon scour the top of one of the fat guard towers with a gout of flame before landing. Movement on then red dragon's back told of the riders' quick dismount before the Dragonhandlers took flight again.

'So far, so good,' he thought. Opening up multiple fronts for them to fight on should help them overwhelm the tiny speck of an island.

Pausing by the final bend, Barchoke wondered how close to the actual fighting it was prudent to get. Gotts knew he was no warrior and if he tried to look like one it would only erode what authority he had, and without that he was just a goblin in a suit; they had armor on. He had to look like he was in charge, because he supposedly was, but mostly because all of this had been his fault. Well, it was Dumbledore's fault really, him and Flamel for breaking the ancient agreement, but it had been him who'd notified them of the breach so this had to go well.

Barchoke did what he could to brush the dirt off his pants leg and straighten his suit.

Soon a second dragon laden with troops swooped in and landed heavily on another guard tower; the lack of scouring flame said the defenders there had chosen to barricade themselves inside rather than face a flaming wave of death. As the riders dismounted, the dragon's wings spread wide and it roared to the heavens as if exalting in the excitement of battle. The roar was followed by a swell of noise as the guards surged forward, finally breaking through the defender's front line of defense.

'Going well,' Barchoke thought to himself as he tucked his tie back where it was supposed to be and ran a hand over his shaven head. 'We'll have the compound in no time.'

With the sound of a thousand cracks of thunder all in one place, the first guard tower exploded! Huge chunks of rock went flying in all directions as the base of the squat tower blew outward in a shower of debris. The pale blue dragon on the second tower took to the sky as rubble rained down on attacker and defender alike while what remained of the top of the tower collapsed on whatever remained at the base.

Barchoke looked on in stunned silence. He didn't know they could do that! Was this wizarding magic, muggle devices, or something all their own? The forces pushing their way into the compound had freed up space on the far side of the strip of land he needed to cross but he wasn't sure he wanted to venture that far yet in case–

The second tower exploded with the same destructive blast as the first, sending even more chunks of debris down on the invaders. Running steps to his right spooked him so that Barchoke grabbed the dagger from his breast pocket and turned to defend himself. It was with a huge sigh of relief when Bankor and Delacour came shambling to a stop not far away, leading a small cadre of equally surprised wizards.

"What was zat?" the pudgy I.C.W wizard asked.

"It wasn't some kind of magic?" Bankor asked in reply as Barchoke tried to grasp what had just happened.

"None zat I know," he replied tugging the point of his beard.

"We've – we've got to find out what it was," Barchoke said more to himself than anyone else. "I trust you don't object to fighting now?" he asked, remembering the Frenchman's determined refusal to take part in any of the fighting itself.

"We are not Peacekeepers," Delacour objected. "We are eenvestigators, researchers."

"There'll be nothing left to research if they blow it all up and bury it in rubble!" he snapped. "The least you can do is look to the injured and order them to stop landing on buildings!"

"I'm not flying with those things in the air!" the wind-blown wizard from before said aghast.

"Then what good are you?!" he yelled before turning to charge to the compound.

The run along the narrow strip of land had to be as long as running along the back corridor of Gringotts back and forth three times over but he barely noticed it, save the time he slipped on a pool of blood when he was part of the way across. He had to get through to Gutripper to order them to wave off the other dragons before any other buildings exploded. Guards could be replaced but mature adult dragons trained to respond to clankers and willing to take goblins on their backs were not so easy to come by!

'No, no, no, no, no, No, NO!' Barchoke screamed to himself as he saw the greatest black beast of them all fly in from the right and he huffed and puffed himself on to all the speed his legs could muster.

Their forces seemed more wary now, standing around and not eager to take chances after the surprise they encountered but there were only three buildings left for the Beast to land on: the barracks, the armory, and the Tower itself. If one of them were to blow with a dragon on it… the expense was too horrible to think about. As he got closer he saw some of the guards waving to the incoming team, but whether to wave it off or direct it somewhere Barchoke had no idea.

'Why didn't we think of some way to order them away?!' he berated himself. 'Hand signals, flags, even those fizzy muggle sky lighting things would've been better than nothing!'

The Beast, the biggest bull dragon Gringotts had, landed with a heavy thump on the barracks roof and what had to be a good two dozen guards sprang from its back.

"Go! Move! FLY!" Barchoke yelled up at them though he knew he was too far from them for them to hear. This had to be some horrible nightmare. "Make way, make way!" he cried, beginning to push through the press of goblins between him and the compound.

Barchoke felt a bit of relief when the Beast took flight again. Realizing he still had his dagger in his hand he quickly moved to put it back in his inside pocket lest he accidentally stab someone and get himself into even more trouble. He put the Ministry agreement he had in there as well for safekeeping. Just as he got to the front of the pack another dragon landed directly in front of the barracks.

"Oh Gotts, no," he said numbly as the mottled brown dragon inhaled and the riders slipped off its back.

The searing gout of flame blew the barracks doors off its hinges and presumably kept going. An instant later a third blast ripped apart a good deal of what remained, though it seemed the destructive force was mostly directed up rather than out. Chunks of masonry, broken beams, and even some goblins were thrown into the air as the barracks blew.

The dragon gave an indignant snarl, whipping its long neck and tail in a frustrated display at all the light and noise which sent several guards flying. One of the Dragonhandlers worked the clankers hard to get it under control as the rubble started raining down and the guards protected themselves as best they could. If they were going to fight on the surface more often, something to protect themselves from things like this would definitely be needed. With footfalls like the sound of a cave-in and buffeting wind the likes he's never known, the dragon stumbled forward before clumsily taking to the air again.

It was then Barchoke realized that the fighting outside had ended and wondered what they were waiting on. Seeing Gutripper off to the left, he started to make his way over to him. Before he got there though something fell from the sky, bounced and rolled from the armory's roof to splat down not twenty feet away. Several guards had their weapons trained on it before either one of them got close. It was beaten and bloody, but the fallen thing was definitely a goblin. It was even wearing a coat their miners wore.

"You think that's one of theirs or one of ours?" he asked Gutripper, thinking it possible whoever it was could've fallen from the fifth dragon they'd brought.

The other Overseer was saved from answering when the fallen goblin himself started moving.

"Flight Team Leader... Oreshaft, reporting... sir," it said as it slowly picked itself up off the ground and Gutripper motioned the surrounding guards to stay their weapons. "I took command when Squad Leader Ragnan... couldn't keep his seat."

"Well then, Team Leader," Gutripper said with a malicious grin, eyeing the high-flying goblin before gesturing to the barracks' husk. "You'd best look for the rest of your team."

With a brief murmur of discontent the long line of goblins gave way to I.C.W. wizards, led by Delacour and Bankor, who cautiously started looking about the devastation.

"Check with those wizards first to see if they can patch you up," Barchoke said to him as a small group of guards came trotting out of the armory towards them. "And try to get some of them to help you."

The approaching guards saluted them when they came to a halt, eyeing the bloody goblin as he shambled away.

"The armory is secure," one of them said, its eyes flickering back and forth between him and Gutripper as if uncertain who to address. The other goblin must have sent a squad to scout it before he arrived, he was relieved to see.

"Any prisoners?" Barchoke asked causing both the new group of goblins and Gutripper himself to look at him questioningly, though the other Overseer's eye carried more than a strong hint of: 'Don't undermine me in front of my Enforcers!' "Learning how they destroyed these buildings could be a great weapon to have," he said delicately, purposely not looking in Gutripper's direction.

"Yes, who has prisoners? Bring them forward!" Gutripper called to the surrounding goblins, which quickly began looking at everyone else out of the corner of their eyes and backing off a bit.

Barchoke hated the sound of all that silence for it was the sound of losing opportunities which might never come again, of accusations of cover-up, and of being unable to definitively say who was behind all of this rolled into one.

"DID I TELL YOU TO KILL THEM ALL?!" Overseer Gutripper roared. "Secure the Compound! Search everywhere!" he commanded, sending the guards scattering faster than Barchoke thought possible. "Check the rubble! Check the dead! There has to be someone we didn't kill!"

Barchoke ran a hand over his head; it was a rather soothing motion most of the time but it didn't help much since what he really wanted to do was have them all flogged. At least when he looked over to the wizarding bunch he saw a knot of them going over to help root through one of the guard towers, which was something at least. Bankor made his way over to them as two squads entered the Tower itself.

"Do you really think the Tower is safe?" he asked gesturing to the large building in question.

"We'll know in a minute," Barchoke replied wary of just how many large chunks of rock could go flying if the thing did blow like the others.

He gave Bankor a peculiar look when he drew a pocket watch out from inside of his bulky coat to actually time the squads that went in.

"Eet would 'ave to be very Dark Magic to do something like zat," Delacour was saying to an older wizard as he moved to join them. "Eet is the only zing I can zink of to explain eet."

"I thought you said you didn't know what it was," Barchoke said with a look.

"I do not 'ave to know 'ow to do eet to know eet is Dark Magic," the human said mildly affronted.

"Out of curiosity," Bankor interjected, naturally inserting himself to moderate the conversation. "What precisely is the difference between Dark Magic and normal magic?"

"Eet–," Delacour stammered, seeming at a loss at how to explain the difference. "Eet is Dark."

Bankor looked over to him with a curious expression, as if even the normally ingratiating goblin didn't have a diplomatic way of saying that didn't explain anything at all.

"Well that certainly puts everything in its proper context," Barchoke said with a professional smile, before turning to Gutripper to roll his eyes.

"That's one minute!" Bankor announced, snapping his pocket watch shut and tucking it back into his coat.

Seeing as nothing had exploded for a while everyone seemed to have come to the conclusion it was probably as safe as things were likely to get and Barchoke felt the uncomfortable weight of leadership settle on him. There was only so much he could order other people to do before he had to do things himself. He tried to exude a sense of certainty and authority as he led them across the compound's courtyard into the large white tower but he didn't know how well he managed to pull it off.

The small, rounded entry hall was made from a pale greenish limestone and on the floor was inlaid a depiction of a darker green prancing lion biting the sun and sending drops of red blood flying everywhere.

'Is that jade?' Barchoke asked himself as he bent over to examine it. 'Just how much were we spending on this guy?'

"I like ze archway," Delacour said indicating the carved space above the small double doors to the main chamber. "Very eentrocate. I wonder if eet means anything."

"I hesitate to remind you there is still a witch and wizard unaccounted for," Bankor said in his tentative way. "They could be anywhere."

Barchoke felt his stomach do a flip. He thought the Flamels would be dead, it hadn't occurred to him to think they might still be alive. Delacour and his older companion drew their wands as they moved into the chamber, though if they cast any spells he didn't know. Gutripper drew his weapons as well and kept his good eye peeled. Barchoke was left wishing to he had the added protection the other Overseer's armor provided; even Bankor's bulky coat was better than the soiled suit he had on.

The second room seemed to be a mess hall of some kind, and still messy from a recent feast. The large tables and benches dominating the room were covered by discarded food, dirty dishes, and overturned goblets. The table at the far side of the room had two throne-like chairs behind it; one with the sun at the top and draped in red, the other with the moon and draped in white. The motif was repeated in a mural on the wall behind them, this one showing two humans with crowns on their heads.

"C'est magnifique!" Delacour breathed gazing upwards, drawing everyone else's attention there.

Supported by seven black columns spaced around the hall, the ceiling above them had a large black sun which gave off light rather than darkness and neither heat nor cold. Growing more unnerved by the minute Barchoke wanted to hurry everyone along, the only problem was he didn't know where to go. There were two doors out of the room on opposite sides, thankfully one of their goblins exited the one on the right and hurried over to them.

"Kitchen, laundry, pantry, and cistern are secure, Overseers," the Squad Leader reported with a salute. "No prisoners to report though I ordered a more thorough inspection to make sure there are no secret passages or bolt holes. I've also taken the liberty to start cataloging what's still here."

"Good," Barchoke said, pleased there was someone around who could think for themselves. "Wait – What do you mean 'what's still here'?"

"The pantry and laundry are in a rather rough state," the other goblin said carefully. "It was the same in the armory before. There's not anything near what I'd expect to find with so many goblins stationed here."

"We've been robbed!" Barchoke said crossly, wishing the renegade goblins were alive again so he could have them all flogged.

"Eef zey 'ave stolen supplies," Delacour gasped. "Nichola Flamel, 'e may 'ave escaped! We must find 'im!" the wizard said hurrying for the other door Barchoke and the other wizard following close behind.

"Sirs!" another goblin called from the entryway behind them, causing Barchoke to stop. "We found the other goblins who were stationed here. You... might want to look at this," he said oddly.

"I've got to keep an eye on Delacour," he said to the others as he turned back towards the door. He didn't want the I.C.W. to make off with anything they didn't know they had yet; surely one of them would handle whatever it was.

The door led to a staircase that made its way up around the tower. He ignored the many windows and the unending view of the sea as he made his way up and tried to divert himself from trying to calculate the value of the carvings in the niches he passed. The staircase had arced around so much he entered the second floor on the opposite side of the tower from where he started from and when he passed through into the chalk white chamber it was to find a very large... Well, he wasn't sure what it was, but there were a lot of glass things, work spaces, and small furnaces to generate heat.

"Zis laboratory is eenormous," Delacour cooed appreciatively as Barchoke made his way over, though both wizards still scanned the room with their wands out. "I 'ave never seen ze like; and so many eentrists."

"Yes, very interesting," he said noncommittally.

"What is eenteresting is over zere," the human said gesturing to the windows by the far wall where a small group of preserved animals were on display. "Crow, peacock, swan, phoenix; I like what 'e did zere. I did not even know you could stuff a phoenix," he smiled.

Barchoke was about to reply when the supposedly stuffed phoenix turned to look at them. And before either of them could speak it stretched its wings, and with a cry, disappeared in a flash.

"Zat is even more eencredible," Delacour said as he recovered from the latest shock, though Barchoke was more interested in the trotting footfalls coming from the door on the other side of the room.

A guard looked inside, and seeing him, came in to make a report.

"Sir, you might want to come with me," he said nebulously after a quick salute.

"Why, what is it?" Barchoke asked suspiciously at the guard's unwillingness to talk.

"Nichola Flamel, deed you find 'im?" the Frenchman asked.

"We think so, sir," the guard said to him uncertainly. "But we can't be sure."

Getting more frustrated by the growing reluctance of the guards, Barchoke wondered why no one would come out with a definite answer.

'Then again,' he thought to himself as his brain kicked back in. 'After Gutripper's angry display outside I doubt I'd be eager to give any news either, especially bad news. Those dragons are awfully close, bound to be hungry by now, and plenty of other goblins have died already.'

"Lead the way," he told the guard instead of chastising him.

"Continue your search," Delacour said to the older wizard as he followed along behind them as they left the room. "Eef ze Stone is 'ere, find eet."

Up another curved staircase they went with another view of even more sea and sky. It was beautiful in a way but Barchoke could see why Flamel would have wanted something else to look at after so many centuries. At the next landing there was not only the standard doorway he'd been expecting to see but also a smaller door facing them. The main door looked to lead to some kind of red marbled records department while the other seemed to be covered by a painting and swung out on a hinge to serve as a secret passage.

"It's faster this way, sir," the guard explained as he led them through to yet another curving stairway.

Up again they went, and Barchoke was beginning to feel the burn of today's activity in his legs. He wasn't about to show weakness in front of both wizard and goblin alike though so he had no choice but to keep going. The one consolation was this stairway showed a view of the courtyard and the main island, so he supposed that was something. At the top of the stairway they were led through another hidden door to arrive at another landing to even more stairs.

"How many more levels are there in this place?" he said exasperatedly.

"The next level is open to the sky," their guard escort replied. "It looked to be used to spot incoming airborne assaults."

"Ah!" Delacour cried happily. "I 'ave 'eard tell of an Observatory."

"We think Flamel is through here," their goblin guide said, leading the way into the main area of the level.

This level didn't seem to be particularly colorful, Barchoke was glad to see. Regardless of how much expense had gone into constructing this tower though it was theirs now so they could do with it what they pleased. Unlike the ones before, this level seemed to be split up into several smaller rooms. All the doors but one were open and that one had guards on it; the rest looked to be washrooms and places to sleep. Could they have really captured the Flamels?

He adopted a stern expression as the guards moved aside, surely the guards wouldn't have left the Flamels in possession of their wands or any other weapons, or so he kept telling himself. Pushing open the door he was repulsed at what he found. In an opulent bed with silk sheets lay two desiccated human skeletons; one of them was sitting up and had been turned to grin at him, its empty eyes staring into his soul.

"What is 'e 'olding?" Delacour asked, holding his hand over his mouth and nose as if there were actually a smell to ward off.

He looked away from the staring skull with its long, white wispy hair to the bony hand holding a small roll of parchment. Disliking every step he took, Barchoke carefully crept to the side of the bed, half-afraid the bodies might suddenly lurch forward to grab him. Thankfully the skull's stare stayed on Delacour so as he reached for the parchment he didn't have to contend with that eerie look.

Parchment in hand, Barchoke hurried back into the hallway. The deathly gaze safely behind the door again Barchoke handed the scroll to Delacour; he didn't think he was in any state to read right now.

"You read it," he said with a wave. "What does it say?"

The Frenchman took out his pair of pince-nez again before unrolling the note.

"Ze part of life we really leeve is small," he read. "For all ze rest of eexistence is not life, but merely time."

Delacour handed him back the note.

"Not something I would want on my tombstone," the human said somberly as he took off his eyeglasses. "But I deed not leeve as long as 'im."

Barchoke nodded as he put the put the note into one of his pockets. He was all for living as long as he could, but what was the point if you were a prisoner? Even an expensive cage is still a cage. It was surprising Flamel hadn't thrown himself off the top of the tower decades ago... If that was really him.

"You I.C.W. types have some way get blood from a corpse like that?" he asked Delacour, who seemed surprised by the question for some reason. "We should have something on file to compare it with to make sure that's really–"

Aaarrrrrrooooooooooooooo! a faint reedy note from elsewhere caught his attention. None of the guards they had with them had been given horns like that, so why was one being used? Darting into one of the empty sleeping quarters and running to the window, Barchoke hoped to catch a glimpse of what was going on in the courtyard below; he happened to be in luck.

Far below him he could see figures moving about, some in positions around the wall of the compound and others leaving the ruins of the guard towers to take defensible positions. Following the pointed gestures Barchoke scanned the narrow strip of land across to the main island and up the winding path until he found what everyone had to be pointing at. Approaching at a quick and steady pace were six figures, most of them in official-looking Ministry robes, with a short, squat figure in the lead. That one had pink wrapped around it like a banner of war.

Stalking back to the hallway he did his professional duty.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you for a while; I'm sure you understand," Barchoke told Delacour with a forced smile. "Please escort the Deputy Inspector General as he continues his search. I will return as soon as I'm able," he said to the guard accompanying them with an implication that he should keep the man from doing anything he may not want him to do until then.

"I zink I really should 'ave a look at zis Observatory I've 'eard so much about," he heard Delacour say as he left through the door he'd come in from.

The passage to the staircase down was blocked off by a painting of a human with a conjoined pair of pointy things he was poking circles with. Pulling the painting on neither side saw it budge an inch though it did at least get the man's attention.

"Open!" he ordered it having no time to waste.

"Not with an attitude like that, I won't," the funny-hatted human chided, going back to his work.

"Now!" Barchoke cried, pulling out his dagger and thrusting it at the man's face.

The human held up his hands and fell over, as if either would protect the painting. It did swing open though which at least bought the portrait a little more time. As he darted through Barchoke heard the human say to himself, "These new guests are far too rude for my tastes."

Running down the wide curving stairway was a lot easier on the legs than running up it and before he knew it he was barreling through the backside of another secret door.

"Halt!" someone said to his left as he exited, causing him to turn with his dagger out in front of him. "Oh! Apologies, Overseer," a surprised guard said, sliding his weapon back into its sheath and giving the open portrait a glance. "We didn't expect to see you," the goblin said, implying that the other guard sharing the duty to protect the unexplored red room was just as guilty of being uninformed as he was but at least he had tried to stop an intruder.

"Find someone to relieve you," Barchoke said to the guard who spoke, "then the two of you start taking these portraits off the walls and get the passageways open. You're free to threaten them if you have to, and then stick them in the unused rooms one level up for now. Now get to it," he finished with a wave before continuing down the stairs.

He took it a bit more slowly from there on and all this effort gave him a new appreciation for the flip-lift because even when it flipped and corkscrewed you around it was still faster than taking a hundred steps just to move to another floor. The "laboratory" on the next level was a hive of activity since it seemed all the I.C.W. wizards were content to coo about everything there instead of going any higher. A simple 'open or die' was enough to convince the next portrait to open and before he knew it he was back in the mess hall again.

"You're in no position to give orders here, human," he heard Gutripper say scornfully as he passed over the jade lion. The sound made him grip his dagger a little more tightly as he left the Tower. "This is goblin land and we're not going anywhere."

"It seems you've greatly overestimated your position," Madam Umbridge said drawing herself up as far as her diminutive height and five bulky Ministry guards would allow. "This land and everything it contains belongs to the Ministry of Magic and we mean to press our rights to it now," she pronounced, holding up some small decree as if that's all it'd take to sway them. "You have no business here, goblin."

"I think you'll find–," Bankor said diplomatically taking a folded parchment from his bulky coat.

"–That he's absolutely right," Barchoke cut in with a look to the other Overseers as he walked into the courtyard. This was not the time for tentative diplomacy or blind violence, it was time to let the Ministry know exactly how things were going to be from here on out.

"Mister Barfchoke," the odious woman said with a none too pleasant look on her ugly face as her finger whipped around to point at Gutripper. "I advise you to take your dog here in hand or I shall have him put down."

The wizards around the ignorant woman seemed to sense this was the worst thing she could possibly say and instead of pointing their wands at the Overseer in question they positioned themselves to best defend their small cluster of unwanted intruders. And as for the 'dog' in question he drew his sword and dagger and stared at her with a rictus grin as if he'd relish the challenge of cutting his way through them in an all-out assault. Barchoke didn't know about her but that should've been enough to make even the corpse of Flamel fearful.

"The only thing I will be doing to our fine Overseer here," he answered in ringing tones so it would carry to as many ears as possible. "Is commend him for all the good work he's done for Gringotts today, and for resisting the urge to gut you where you stand!" Barchoke chanced a brief look at the guards around the courtyard, trying to gauge their willingness not to fight.

"You seem a bit behind the times, Madam Umbridge, so allow me to explain," he continued, hoping to show there was more than one way to deal with opposition. "Before we raided this compound both the Ministry and the International Confederation of Wizards had acknowledged our rights to everything you've just tried to claim. Overseer Bankor, show her, if you will."

Alone out of the entire courtyard Bankor actually seemed comfortable walking up to the surly gang of wand wielding wackos, at least until she snatched the parchment out of his hands. After that he made no attempt to hide his dislike of her as he backed away again, although she was more concerned with disdainfully reading the agreement than registering the slight.

"This is preposterous!" the frog-faced woman said before she was even halfway through with it. "This is an obvious forgery and we refuse to acknowledge it! Even daring to do this is tantamount to sedition and treason!"

"That's the Ministry's own seal and I assure you this has been perfectly legal, so the one being treasonous here is you!" Barchoke swatted back at her. "If you doubt your own Ministry, check your decree if you doubt the seal – if yours even has one," he jeered. "That stamp has been acknowledged by the visiting Deputy Inspector General of the I.C.W. himself which means this territory is internationally known as the sovereign domain of the Goblin Nation, and no Minister of Magic or jumped-up janitor's daughter like you can change that!" he finished, pointing his dagger at her to emphasize his point.

The cheer that rose up from those words lifted his heart and put a smile on his face. This was the fire missing from the goblin people for far too long, the pride that'd been squelched by the Humbling. They had protected their bank for a thousand years but all they'd been doing was being the warden of their own prison while what they truly wanted was the pride which came from having a place to call their home.

After all, you could guard a bank but you fought for home. That was what they had always been doing, Barchoke knew now; all those conflicts with the Ministry were their attempts to fight back against being excluded and shoved aside, to force their inclusion, to make the humans treat them the same as everyone else. It had never worked though because the Ministry had never wanted them.

'This time the leverage is on our side,' he thought to himself. 'They'll have to deal with us on our terms now.'

The only way Umbridge looked capable of dealing with anything was to imitate a guard tower and explode. Her eyes were wide, her jowls quivering, and her face a blotchy puce.

"I am Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic, Dolores Jane Umbridge," the foul woman said as if anyone there didn't know. "And I demand you submit to us at once! The Goblin Nation does not exist!" she cried.

"Then look to the skies, Senior Underling, and reevaluate the situation!" he cried in response. "You may have brought five wizards with you, but we brought five dragons!" Barchoke shouted, pointing upwards and to the right.

The beat of leathery wings turned all eyes to the sky as the fifth and final dragon came in to land on the armory's roof. She wasn't as big as the Beast but she was big enough and her orange and gold coloring made her look like fire made flesh. Like the others who'd been flying for hours the goblins on her back jumped off quickly and she spread her wings to roar.

'Good Gotts!' he thought when he realized he was now pointing directly at her. 'This couldn't have gone better if we had actually planned it!'

As the temperamental she-dragon looked down at them Barchoke got a sinking feeling in his stomach. Planning was definitely something they needed to do more of, he decided as it quickly inhaled. Luckily for everyone involved the pilot had the good sense to pull back on the reins just in time for the stream of fire to go harmlessly into the air. He had to admit though that without the chance of death it may not have made such a glorious sight.

The look of Umbridge's colorless face as she stared up at the dragon that could've killed them made him laugh. Her reaction didn't improve when the mottled brown descended to land on the narrow strip of land back to the island or when the great black Beast landed at the top of the winding dirt path, making the whole island look a bit smaller by comparison. With her mouth opening and closing noiselessly she clutched a pin on her pink cardigan, trying desperately to say something.

"E–e–e–emergency!" the toad finally managed to croak out in a strangled yelp and she disappeared in a swirl of color.

Seeing their enemy run in fear, most guards would've used this moment to attack – instead they cheered. Even to Barchoke it was hard not to feel they'd won a victory against all of wizard kind right then. One of the wizards used the moment of shock to try and follow her lead, twirling around on one foot. The look on his face when nothing happened let his buddies know just how much shit they'd managed to step in. Umbridge may have retreated to safety but she left her flunkies behind, and they didn't have portkeys.

"Drop your wands and surrender and you won't be harmed," Barchoke called to them, a plan quickly forming in his head.

Standing up to the Ministry was fighting for their rights, which made taking these men into custody just something that needed to be done for everyone's safety. Using them as a bargaining chip in what was sure to come next was just the goblin thing to do, while returning them unharmed would prove they weren't monsters. Still, he'd need to get some of the other Overseers on board to take the heat off him, but looking at Bankor and Gutripper they both looked ready to agree to anything.

The wizards seemed to have been picked for their love of following orders rather than any magical prowess. Lacking anyone else to tell them what to do they shared a look and began to drop their wands.

"Wait!" Bankor said, hurriedly taking off his bulky coat and tossing is over to the wizards. "Put the wands in the inside pocket and leave it on the ground."

Barchoke looked at him curiously as he made his way over to him, only to have him dart out and scoot the coat back away from the wizards once the wands were inside.

"What was that about?" he asked in an undertone.

"Clause three of the Code of Wand Use: 'no non-human creature is permitted to carry or use a wand.'" Bankor explained while dry-washing his hands. "Admittedly, one of the colloquial definitions of 'carry' is 'to convey or transport,' but they didn't specifically stipulate such actions were a part of the ban and a single additional word would've sufficed to do so. Without that wiggle-room we'd have no way to transport these wands at all unless we bring humans in, and while our agreement with the Ministry stipulated who owns the island it said nothing about sovereignty, so Ministerial laws may still hold."

"We can't wait for the Ministry to decide if their laws apply here or not," Barchoke said thinking furiously. "Our position has to be that this is an autonomous region, just like the areas below Gringotts are. That's the only way what we did is legal. What do you think?" he asked Gutripper as he joined them. "Keep these five downstairs until we can transfer them back to Gringotts?"

"Wouldn't it be safer to keep them here?" Bankor asked quietly but Gutripper was already shaking his head.

"This place is too new and there's more chance these I.C.W. types may want to free them," the other Overseer said, keeping his good eye on the prisoners. "If we keep them at Gringotts we can keep outsiders from knowing where they are."

"The Ministry's not going to like this," Bankor said uncertainly. "I trust you know what you're doing?" he asked Barchoke.

"Just showing them that we can't be pushed around anymore," Barchoke replied. "I'll explain the whole thing later to get your input but I need them kept together and completely unharmed for it to work. I won't have them saying we treated them badly; I trust you can do that?" he asked Gutripper.

The battle-hardened Overseer glanced at them both for a moment before nodding. It was with a sense of relief that he saw him motion for guards to attend him as he moved the captured wizards into the tower and ordered the rest to get back to work.

"I'm going to have to go back to the bank to get a handle on this," Barchoke said as he ran a hand across his scalp again. "Until then we're going to need someone to Oversee this place."

"You want me to handle this place?" Bankor asked, seeming to understand he'd just been drafted away from his own department.

"At least for now, we can handle the long term arrangements later," he replied to Bankor as a thought occurred to him. "I'm going to need you to go up and find Delacour," he said, really glad to avoid going up all those stairs again. "Tell him what happened and how the Ministry's changed their mind about being cooperative. If Delacour wants to get Dumbledore it's probably already too late."

It wasn't until Bankor had run off dragging his coat along behind him and the she-dragon had left the armory that Barchoke noticed the rather large holes in his last plan. The goblins in charge of the dragons couldn't dismount without them being left free to go off on their own and with them wandering around it was going to be impossible to get back to the portkey arrival point to get out of here. He was pulled away from trying to plan around this by a guard from the ruined barracks.

"Sir, we found the third group of remains of the goblins who were stationed here," he said to him. "You might want to take a look."

Barchoke motioned him to lead the way hoping that when Delacour got down here and saw the same dragons blocking the path he'd let them use his emergency portkey to get back to the bank. If not, this was going to be a really long day.

.o0O0o.

Henry Jameson was starting to think being an auror was never going to measure up to the brochure. 'Adventure! Excitement! Fight against dark witches and wizards side-by-side with the heroes of the last war!' It all sounded great but they never once mentioned grouchy old trainers, paperwork, procedure, drills and homework, and all the other assorted nonsense which came along with it. He knew he'd never be the 'go-to guy' just starting the third year of training but he thought it'd be more than sitting on his butt watching the fireplace.

Still, he supposed it wasn't all bad; it did give him something to wake up for every day, if in a roundabout way. His baby sisters, like everyone else who lived in Hogsmeade, had been brought up hearing about the great wizarding events of the past and great duels and epic battles were always favorites. Dumbledore versus Grindelwald, Death Eaters against Aurors, and even Harry Potter's defeat of You-Know-Who were told and retold again and again until no one really knew where the truth was in any of it, not that it really mattered to anyone.

All that kind of changed when your 'great big brother' was one of the ones going out to hunt down bad guys though. Even after all this time they were pouting at him not to go, pulling on his arms to keep him from the floo, or latching onto his legs and sitting on his feet to try and keep him from moving. He was willing to bet most of what kept them doing it was the fun of being dragged around the house by a lumbering giant more than ten years older than them so he was happy to keep it up as long as they were; kids didn't stay kids forever.

'I dunno, maybe I should just quit,' he thought to himself, and not for the first time.

When he had joined there had been – three? No, four – others from his Hogwarts class who had done the same, though one had only lasted a week. It was the second one to leave that was a shame though since he was the one Henry had known best, but for some reason after pushing him to do well in classes his mother turned right around to nag him into leaving the Auror Corps and take a nice, safe job instead. Six N.E.W.T.s at Exceeds or above and he was selling Quidditch supplies, such a waste.

Now all of them were gone and in their place was the pleasantly pink paragon of perfect pulchritude who'd even started showing him up on occasion. She had wicked skill, killer style, and a presence wrapped up in mystery. Plus she had this tendency to trip over her own feet that'd make her adorable if she ever let anyone close to her. She didn't have the social awkwardness you expected from people who'd been taught at home and too many things about her seemed familiar in some way he couldn't figure out.

Word around the office was she was a metamorphmagus but in a year the only evidence he's seen were the times he'd picked on her enough to get her hair to change – which admittedly was too often to be coincidental. He kept doing it – well, because it was fun – but mainly because this theory he had that she was secretly several years older and was only pretending to be younger, and maybe if he picked on her enough she'd slip and let something show. Secretly being a D.M.L.E. officer who got bumped up to Auror would explain why she was so good, why Moody was so interested in her, why he let her be lax with paperwork, why she claimed to only be interested in older guys – everything.

The surname Tonks was anything but common but it sounded familiar too somehow, so even being older she had to have a younger sister or something. It was impossible he could've spent six years in Hogwarts and not remember a girl like her, with or without pink hair. Every time he thought along those lines though his mind wanted to picture this plain, mousy-haired, Hufflepuff geek who never drew attention to herself, which was–

Excited murmurs drew Henry's attention away from his pumpkin juice as a violent swirl of pink appeared and someone fell to the floor in a flump! He stood as other patrons went over to see who'd been fool enough to portkey into the Leaky Cauldron. Unless you were someone who was licensed to make them just getting a portkey was difficult enough, even for some big and potentially Secrecy-breaking official business, so it wasn't like this could've been some sort of prank. Now that he thought of it, he was pretty sure portkeying into an inhabited area like this was illegal.

'Aw crap,' he thought, taking a moment to finish his drink. 'That means everyone's going to look to me to arrest them or something. Maybe I can just bring them to Moody, tell him what happened, and let him deal with it. It's still gonna mean paperwork though.'

He got over to them just as they were getting the short woman up to her feet; she was the last person he was expecting.

"Madam Umbridge?" Henry asked confused as to why someone so close to the Minister would be portkeying anywhere, let alone here.

"GOBLINS!" she cried, clutching his robes and eyes wide in panic. "Go! Go!" Umbridge ordered while trying to get away from the hands of people that were keeping her steady. "Attack them! Kill them! Slaughter them all!"

Unable to believe what the woman was saying the people around her put up almost no resistance to her getting to the fireplace, least of all him. It wasn't until she disappeared in a flash of green fire to the cry of "The Ministry of Magic!" that everything became clear. In a dull sense of shock he said the first official sounding thing that came to mind.

"Everyone should please evacuate the building in an orderly fashion, and proceed home if it is safe to do so."

Vaguely, Henry knew he should say something reassuring but what that could be was beyond him. There was a large bubbling cauldron where his stomach should be and it seemed in real danger of spilling onto the floor. Instead, he made his way out of the back door and into the alleyway. He had to find Moody. He had to find Moody. Had to find Moody. Apologize for bumping into people. Walk faster. Had to find Moody. Go faster. Use brain.

Dolores Umbridge was no hero; she wouldn't charge to the rescue. That had to mean the Ministry was safe, right? That felt better; better enough to keep moving. The alley seemed to be slightly moving, but people weren't running, so here had to be safe too. She was close to the Minister. Going to the Ministry meant she didn't come from the Ministry, and she hadn't been here, so she had to come from Hogsmeade. She came from Hogsmeade. The goblins attacked Hogsmeade!

Explosions had ripped apart Zonko's Joke Shop and the smell of dungbombs choked the street as Filibuster Fireworks continued to shoot off randomly into the air from the demolished store. The Three Broomsticks was a flaming pyre as the devastation continued to spread through the village. People had run for all the good it'd done them. Now they lay on the ground unmoving. Madam Rosmerta, the kids down the street, even his–

People were dead and it was with watery eyes that Henry saw the one responsible for it. The dirty little goblin was sitting outside like this was Hogwarts and he had the day off class. By what right was it sitting there looking bored while his world crumbled around him? By what right was it even alive?!

'Attack them! Kill them! Slaughter them all!' the order rang in his ears as he ran down the alley. Time seemed to slow when the goblin glanced up to see him racing towards it; its eyes bulged and it moved to close the big book in front of him, making it disappear. Henry didn't know when he had drawn his wand but didn't rightly care; that goblin was going to die.

Time lurched forward again as Henry's feet were ripped out from under him, sending his spell flying off course. He saw the whole alley twirl around before he landed hard on the cobblestone street. Looking upwards, he was just in time to see his spell slam into and knock open the bank's triple double doors and the goblin race inside as the nearby aurors erected their barricades.

"GET DOWN!" a gravelly voice yelled before a ripple of force shoved him and everyone else still in the alley aside.

Crammed face-first beside the door to a shop Henry felt and heard a roaring rush behind him. Struggling to turn around as fast as he could he saw the moving wall of fire that now split the alley down the middle. Grim-faced, Moody and Robards were struggling to keep it from going any further, somehow bending it right where he'd been a moment before and sending it streaming into the sky like a pillar.

As quickly as it had started the flame wall died away, followed quickly by a screeching, reverberating roar coming from the bank. A deafening silence filled the stillness afterwards for a moment before another roar came from the bank, this one containing words.

"THE DOORS WILL REMAIN SHUT!" a goblin called before the bank's doors closed again, this time to the sound of locks and physical barriers going into place.

"Robards, get those fires out," Moody ordered, sending the other man further up the alley where the fire wall had caused eaves and roofs to ignite. With his wand to his throat the senior auror said, "Attention, shoppers!" and his voice boomed out to everyone. "I need you all to finish what they're doing and evacuate through the Leaky Cauldron in a calm and orderly fashion. There is no need to be alarmed; Aurors are here for your protection."

In a kind of dull delirium Henry tried to stand, only to be shoved to his knees again as a panicked witch ran from the shop to dart down the alley. When he was halfway to standing he was yanked up the rest of the way and forced back against a wall. Mad-Eye did not look happy and his freakish blue eye darted around constantly.

"What the hell did you think you're doing?!" the old auror growled as a woman ran from the shop across the way with a child clutched to her and darted down the alley. As far down as he could see people were shuttering doors and running for the exits.

"M–Madam Uh–Umbridge," Henry said with a dry throat. "She said – she ordered–"

"The woman's an idiot!" the wild-eyed auror growled again. "I said come find me, not to start a war."

"I–I did – I was," he stammered, tripping over his own words.

"Did it never occur to you I knew more about what's going on than you?" Moody asked.

'Something more is going on?' Henry wondered as his knees began to buckle. 'Did this have nothing to do with Hogsmeade? Oh, Merlin! I almost killed that goblin.' His legs fell out from under him when Moody let him go. He was never going to be able to do his own banking again.

"Start using your bloody brain," the old auror said to him again before turning to hurry down the alley to check on things there.

'Merlin,' Henry said to himself as he saw the people fleeing down the alley. 'What have I done? I want to go home. Please,' he thought as the tears started to stream down his face and his hands tightened on his head. 'Please just let my family be safe.'

.o0O0o.

AN: For the last five chapters I've managed to run the titles together. In case you didn't catch it they were: "When Pigs Fly," "It's a Day as Black as Night," "They're on the Backs of Dragons," "It's Not so Much Fun for the Pig," and "There's Always the Chance of Bacon." I don't think I can keep it up any longer but it was fun while it lasted.

Thanks for reading.