The Amazing Adventures of Agrippina

by DarknessEnthroned

The series of prequel shortpieces that everyone insisted I write for my ongoing "For Whom the Bell Tolls", starting from the very beginning, where Harry, burdened by debts and beyond the help of friends with their own lives to pursue, takes his first step into the shadier world of illicit curse-breaking and black market smuggling that will one day lead him to the temple on Aia...

1. Part One

Nothing is mine.

A brief note!

I'm writing this in the same style as "For Whom the Bell Tolls" as opposed to the other writing styles you might have seen me use in other things, but it's a good enough fit it shoudn't make a great deal of difference. It's going to come, because each piece is technically a sort of free commission, as a series of short stories. A long series, if those keen on having it get their way xD

You can find more of my stuff via Discord!

linktr . ee / mjbradley

---

The Onset in the Alley

The flickering light of the floating candles danced in the row of empty glasses upon the bar, glinting on the ice cubes clinking in the last finger of the drink in Harry's hand as he swirled it around. He watched the pale blue Moonlight schnapps whirl past the small spined serpent charmed on the side of the glass. It stared back at him with its bright red eyes and hissed.

I have no idea what you're saying, little guy.

'Another?' The witch behind the bar tipped him a wink. 'Or something else?'

'What's the time?' Harry asked, quaffing the last inch of drink and adding one more glass to the line across the bar. 'I probably need to go home at some point.'

'It's about eleven.'

'Ah, shit,' he muttered. 'Gin's going to be pissed I'm back late.'

She giggled. 'Eleven in the morning.'

'Oh, well in that case.' Harry shrugged. 'Sure, hit me. What are these called again?'

'Dragon-hunter's Cloak.'

'Thanks. What were you called again?'

The bar witch laughed. 'Didn't say, did I? This isn't the sort of bar you want to be throwing your name around in to folks who aren't from our side of the law, Mr Potter.'

'Then I shall call you… Jasmine. I've never known a Jasmine.'

'If you want to call me anything else, you'll need to do better than this,' she replied, sliding his drink across the table. 'And probably shave. I'm not a girl who likes a guy with all that fluff on his face.'

'Okay now you sound like my girlfriend,' Harry replied. 'You need to sleep, Harry. You need to eat, Harry. Where have you been, Harry? The goblins probably won't kill you, Harry, you're a hero.'

We can't really help, Harry.

'You are still alive.'

'Yeah, they took my house and everything in my vaults, and that'll keep them happy for a bit,' he said. 'Took pretty much all of my stuff, too. In a month or so, though, they'll come back for the rest and I won't have any more to give.'

She pointed at his shoulder. 'So that's…'

'Yeah, it's fucked.' Harry flexed his shoulder, rotating it around. 'All healed up now, but I can't dive or stuff like that anymore. Goodbye quidditch career, fun while it lasted.' He turned to the dark-cloaked stranger sipping thick crimson liquid from a tall flute beside him. 'If I become a vampire, would it heal my shoulder?'

'No.'

'Damn. Suppose I'd be disqualified from playing anyway, though.' Harry cocked his head. 'Do you like the taste?'

'No.'

'Really?'

'It tastes like biting a coin,' the vampire replied. 'I just…need it. I drink it now when I don't much like it because if I wait, I will lose control and end up being locked up by the Ministry…'

'Well, could be worse,' Harry promised. 'I have a mountain of war-crime-reparations to repay and another mountain of medical bills. Hermione and Gin are just kind of watching it crush me bit by bit; everyone else has taken a big step back; most of them have turned around so they don't even have to watch and can pretend they don't know what's happening.' He took a gulp of his drink, shivering as the ice cold tingle of the drink swept through him. 'I walked into that forest to die for them. I came back for them. But apparently the consequences of everything I did for them is my own problem now they don't need saving anymore. Fancy turning me into a vampire and solving all my problems?'

'No; it would solve nothing.'

'At least I wouldn't be hunted by anything, I could go and lurk in some creepy old castle and everyone would think I was dead.'

The vampire laughed, a hoarse rasping chuckle. 'Vampires are hunted too.'

'They aren't, it's illegal.' Harry waved a hand at him. 'And you're fast and strong, so, how bad can it even be?'

'I have walked this damp little island for two hundred years—' the vampire's hand flashed out, but Harry plucked his drink back out of its reach '—and I am still not fast enough, see? A real elder vampire would rip me apart. And then there is… the Little One.'

'The what?'

'The Little One.' The vampire lowered its voice to a whisper, studying him with deep maroon eyes. 'Some of us think it is the first vampire, roaming the world, hunting all its kin for the sin of their creation. Or just a very very old one whose unending hunger and age has driven it mad to the point where it feasts upon its own kind. Probably, it is just a myth, but it scares the elder vampires, and not many things scare a vampire that has survived half a thousand years or more.'

'Probably just nonsense,' Harry said. 'Not exactly a very terrifying name, is it?'

The vampire shrugged its shoulders and finished his drink. 'This one is all yours,' he said to the bar witch. 'Is the underway still open?'

'You're good,' she replied. 'Not that there's all that much sun out there anyway.'

'There never is here. It's a large part of why I like it. That and there's only a handful of elder vampires on the whole island.' He ducked the old dark beams running across the ceiling and disappeared through the door beside the bar.

Harry finished his drink, the ice cold sweet apple flavour tingling on his tongue. 'At least these are good.'

The bar witch frowned. 'Can you actually afford to pay for those if the goblins took everything?'

'Yeah—' Harry dipped a hand inside his jeans pocket and pulled a galleon out from beneath the smooth soft silk of the invisibility cloak '—I have a bit left still. Might as well spend it before the goblins come and pull out my spine or whatever. There's no way I can ever pay all the debt back, not with the interest going up faster than I can pay it off.' He stifled a bitter dry laugh. 'I wonder if this is how Ludo Bagman felt?'

'Did I hear that right?' A thin wizard leant his elbow on the bar and smiled a sly little grin. 'Sounds like we're in the same boat, Potter.'

'Who are you?'

'Zabini, Blaise Zabini.' He took the vampire's seat, tossing his long brown leather coat over the back of it and straightening the sleeves of his loose white shirt. 'My mother is the Zabini everyone remembers, but she didn't exactly leave me in the best spot, so I need to make some money fast.'

'Good luck,' Harry said.

'Oh I have a plan,' Blaise said, glancing about the bar. 'But I need a bit of help with it. A third set of hands, basically. Interested?'

'No.' Harry finished his drink and arranged his empty glasses into a pyramid one at a time. 'I owe the goblins more galleons than you're going to see in a lifetime. No point wasting my time doing anything I don't want to do right now.'

Blaise's cold blue eyes and calculating stare roved over him. 'Hear us out, Potter.' He waved a hand. 'Tracey, come here. We might have something.'

'You don't,' Harry said.

A slim girl in dark red leather trousers and a dark red blouse pushed Blaise's stool back along the bar with one knee-high, black dragon-leather boot and stared down at Harry with fierce green eyes, brushing her honey-blonde bangs away from her face. 'Really, Blaise, your idea is fucking Potter?'

She looks vaguely familiar.

'He has debts and needs some money; I thought he could lend a hand. I'll leave the… fucking Potter to you, if that's what you're after.'

She offered Blaise a sweet smile. 'I don't fuck with guys who smell like they've been rotting in the same corner of this bar for a week.'

'Only about three days, actually. And this isn't the corner.' Harry squinted at her. 'Who are you? Are you a Jasmine?'

'No I'm not a fucking Jasmine.' She laughed. 'I'm Tracey Davis. The best fucking curse-breaker you're ever going to meet in your life and a girl you're never going to forget.'

'Probably at least half true, the goblins aren't leaving your competition a lot of time to get to meeting me.' He held out his hand. 'Nice to meet you, you were at Hogwarts, right?'

She swatted his hand away with the back of hers. 'What's a cute-faced little good-boy doing in the Spiny Serpent in the underbelly of Knockturn Alley? And yes, Potter, I was at Hogwarts.'

A sly gleam shone in Blaise's blue eyes. 'Drowning his sorrows, from what I heard.'

'Mostly just drinking,' Harry said. 'If I do it back at Gin's little place, she yells at me, or, worse, she gets Hermione to come over and then they both scold me together like a child.'

Tracey snorted. 'Grow a fucking a spine then.'

'Yeah, well, they're not wrong, are they,' he muttered. 'Look at me. This is a stupid thing to do.'

'I am looking,' she said. 'It's pathetic. The kid that killed Voldemort is scared of a few goblins.'

'I'm not scared.'

There's just nothing I can do. Nobody wanted to help.

'You're sitting in the corner of the shadiest fucking bar in Britain whining like a little girl who's had her fucking doll taken away.' Tracey smacked her hand down on the bar. 'Tell him the deal, Blaise, then he can fucking wimp out and we can go find someone with a bit of actual fight in them.'

Blaise's blue eyes flicked back and forth between them. 'Don't mind Tracey, she's just difficult to put up with. The plan is simple. My mother had a lot of shady contacts for many reasons; one of those reasons was that she bought and sold things that weren't acquired exactly legally. There's a grave mound of a Viking warrior in Norfolk that contains a very valuable necklace and probably a some other half-valuable stuff. Nobody else knows where it is, because the guys that figured it out and were going to go after it got hired by the ICW to get through some stupid door under some Greek Island and killed themselves doing some experimental curse-breaking. So if you're not afraid to get your hands dirty…'

'And you will, because you're going to have to do some digging,' Tracey said. 'You going to be okay if we ask you to stop fucking crying long enough to use a shovel?'

'Yes,' Harry said, ignoring the sting of her words. 'But it's against the law. You're digging through someone's grave.'

'Someone who murdered, pillaged and raped their way across Britain using some nasty dark magic and then had all his plunder buried with him.' Blaise flashed him an easy smile and a wink. 'So who cares about him?'

Fair enough, I guess.

'Only downside is that it might be cursed,' Tracey said. 'But that's why I'm here.'

'Precisely,' Blaise said. 'I know where it is. I can use my mother's old contacts to sell the stuff once we have it. You can lend us a hand with the muscle and nobody will suspect us of being up to anything shady if you're with us.'

'Look, it's really fucking simple,' Tracey said. 'Blaise finds the barrow. I break whatever curses or wards are on it. We get in, take anything worth taking, then Blaise sells it, and we all make a decent amount of money. Money Blaise needs. Money you need. Money I want.'

'Think of it as a bit of an adventure,' Blaise murmured. 'Nobody will get hurt. Nothing in there is doing any good to anyone buried in the dirt. And is it really fair that the saviour of wizarding Britain gets hung out to dry to the goblins for what he did to save us?'

'I mean, it's still illegal.'

'So was all the shit you did saving Britain.'

'I was saving Britain,' Harry retorted. 'Not myself.'

'Oh, so you don't fucking deserve it, then.' Tracey's green eyes swept over him. 'Come on, Blaise, we're wasting our time with this damp fucking cabbage. Let Potter climb back into a bottle for the next three weeks before the goblins come and chop his head off. Sounds like his girlfriend isn't going to miss him anyway.'

A flash of anger seized Harry. 'I'll do it.' The words slipped from his lips before he could bite them back. 'It's just a bit of digging anyway.'

Blaise grinned. 'Fantastic—' he dipped a hand into the pocket of his coat and pulled out an acorn, rolling it across next to the glasses '—this is a portkey to where we'll meet. The word is black widow.'

---

The Barrow in the Bog

'Black Widow,' Harry whispered, pulling the door to Gin's small flat closed behind him.

Cold brown water crept through the sides of his trainers, seeping through his socks as he trudged across the thick moss, using the small grass clumps as stepping-stones between the pools of murky water. Blaise and Tracey stood atop a small mound overlooking the broad, flat marshes, waiting among a cluster of dead trees. Tracey's bright scarlet leather trousers stood out between her fur-lined, dark green coat and her knee-high black boots, bright as blood before all the dull brown and green around them.

'Look who's finally getting his hands dirty,' she declared as he reached them. 'Did you make sure you brought enough tissues to cry into?'

Harry ignored that. 'I'm here. What now?'

'Good morning, Harry.' A sly grin spread across Blaise's face. 'Now we go find the grave mound.' He stomped a short brown boot on the ground. 'This is the starting point for the map. This is the barrow everyone thought was where our guy was buried for a thousand years, and we know this mound is empty, because half of it is missing. A hundred people must have dug through it for treasure.'

'Fucking idiots,' Tracey muttered. 'Never dig into a barrow with a weird top. Means someone has already got there before you.'

Blaise nodded and dug his wand out of the back pocket of his dark linen trousers. 'This grave mound, according to mother's source, is actually our guy's son, who died young and was buried out here for some reason. There was something they found in an old poem that mentions the funeral about Agnar the Red being buried a ship's length north of his son's grave mound for every year that he had outlived him.'

'So we're going to walk North,' Tracey said. 'And not very far from here, we should find some wards concealing it. Look out for any weird looking rocks, or old wood, or just anything that seems a bit strange.'

'That's it?' Harry asked.

'You'll have to do some digging,' Blaise said. 'With a spade. It's best not to use magic just in case there are any nasty surprises.'

'Let's get going,' Tracey said, shouldering her back and striding down the mound. 'It can't be that far. They had pretty small ships.'

Blaise licked his lips. 'We'll find it soon enough.'

Harry followed Tracey down and back into the bog, grimacing as the cold water soaked back through his shoes. 'Couldn't have buried him somewhere a bit drier, could they?'

'It's just a bit of water, crybaby.' She swept her long honey-blonde hair over the other shoulder to her bag. 'Stop sobbing about that and look out for anything that might be a viking ward anchor.'

Harry picked his way around the knee-depth parts of the bog as she marched through, tugging the strap of her bag back up her shoulder every few steps. 'Do you want a hand with the bag?'

'Fuck off, Potter.' Tracey shielded her green eyes with her forearm, squinting across the flat marshes. 'You don't need to be anywhere near my stuff. Touch this bag and I'll fucking kill you, got it?'

'Sorry. Was just trying to help.'

'Help by finding something.' She glanced back and arched an eyebrow. 'Where are your glasses? Can you even see?'

'I got my eyes fixed a few years ago. For Quidditch.'

Might as well not have, in the end, though.

'So you can see. Good. Stop being useless and see if you can see something that isn't mud, water or grass.' Tracey scanned the bog. 'Because I can't see anything.'

Harry peered across the gleaming puddles and clumps of grass. 'Me neither.'

It's all bloody bog.

Blaise tiptoed his way after them around all the wet bits.

'Keep going,' Tracey ordered, pushing him forward with her free hand. 'I'm not waiting for Blaise to ballet his way around every small patch of water.'

Harry trudged on through the green, splashing through the shallow bits and brushing through the occasional patch of reeds or long grass. Small marsh birds flitted away from them as they went, chirping out little warnings, and the flies zipped to and fro past him, hovering around his temples as he started to sweat.

'Fucking finally!' Tracey called out behind him. 'I found something, Blaise!'

About time, if this takes longer than another hour or so, I'm going to be late getting to the Burrow. He wound along the edge of a deep patch of water to where she crouched over a clump of grass. Gin'll probably be mad at me anyway for something, though. She always is.

Among the reeds and the tufts of grass, a dark, old piece of wood stuck from the water. Tracey drew her wand and stripped the plants and mud away with a jet of water, scouring green slime from it. A helmed skull stared back at them, one eye socket empty, the other covered by a patch marked by circles of small Nordic runes.

'This is it,' Tracey said as Blaise reached them. 'Potter, hold my bag.' She thrust it into his arms and drew out a slim, silver chisel and rested it at the centre of the eye-patch. 'Drop it in the mud and I'll drown you right in this puddle with my bare fucking hands.'

A sly gleam entered Blaise's blue eyes. 'Can you break the wards?'

'Can the best fucking curse breaker you've ever met break a viking burial mound ward in Britain?' She wrinkled her nose and tapped the end of the chisel with her wand. 'Of course I fucking can. We're in Britain, all the tough Viking stuff is back where they came from.'

The post trembled and the bog shifted, pouring out from behind the wooden skull like water. A broad, tall barrow higher than Harry was tall rose from the marsh, ringed by ship figureheads carved as wolves, bears, dragons and painted in bright red and white.

'Well done, Tracey,' Blaise said, dipping a hand into his pocket and pulling out a tiny steel spade. 'Your turn, Harry.'

Tracey snatched her bag back from his hands.

Harry pulled his wand from the back pocket of his jeans. 'Engorgio.' He took the spade from Blaise and sighed. 'This could take a very long time.'

Guess I'd better be ready to get scolded when I get back.

'Just start digging,' Tracey ordered. 'You'll figure it out.'

He eyed the slope of the mound. 'Does it matter where?'

'From the top, of course.' She marched through the figureheads rising from the bog. 'And this is the barrow of a raider who dabbled with dark magic, if there are any nasty surprises, I want to be up there with a good fucking view.'

'Fair enough.' Harry made his way up after her, sparing a lingering look for the red wolf-headed prow stabbed into the marsh. 'How big do you need the hole to be?'

'Just dig a square about four metres across at the top,' Blaise said. 'I nabbed this spade from my mother's stash; Tracey says it's enchanted to vanish any dirt you dig around the outside of.'

'Handy.' Harry slid his wand back into his pocket and thrust the spade into the ground, cutting a neat line around the centre of the barrow.

A foot of dirt vanished.

'Keep going,' Tracey said.

He stepped down and cut out another square, dropping down as it vanished beneath his feet, and dug on, slicing down into the barrow until he stood on thick, stone slabs staring at the bits of grass clinging to the toes of Tracey's black boots.

'Out you come,' Tracey ordered.

Harry apparated up with a loud crack.

'Hold this and be quiet.' She shoved her bag into his hands and vanished with a pop, appearing on the stone with her wand drawn. 'Fucking hell, Potter. Do you just do whatever you're told by anyone?'

'I thought I was meant to be helping,' he replied, leaning on the spade. 'So, yeah.'

Kind of regretting it now, though.

'Grow a spine,' Tracey retorted, touching the tip of her wand to the stone slab. 'There's nothing on these either. Seems like he just hid it out here in the middle of nowhere and figured that was enough.'

Blaise smiled. 'His loss.'

'Yeah.' Tracey banged her fist on the stone, listening to the sound reverberate through the barrow beneath. 'I'm going to vanish one of these stone slabs. It sounds like there's nothing under them.'

'Do it,' Blaise said. 'Grab anything valuable inside and then leave the rest to rot.'

Harry grimaced.

'What, Potter?' Tracey snapped. 'He wasn't a nice guy. He's not called Agnar the Red because he liked pretty red socks or something, he used to literally fucking bathe in the blood of his captives.'

'Let's just get this over with,' he replied.

'Got a bottle to crawl back into?' She shot him a little smirk. 'Or some crying to do?'

'More like some explaining,' Harry said. 'I didn't tell Gin I was going to be away, so when I get back, I'm going to get yelled at.'

'What did you need, her permission?' Tracey snorted. 'You're so—' she waved her empty hand around '—soft.'

'I'm not soft,' Harry replied. 'I just think about other people from time to time. It's called being nice.'

'Yeah, and being nice has worked out so fucking well for you.' She laughed, a derisive little chuckle in the back of her throat, and tapped one of the stone slabs with her wand. 'Evanesco.'

Harry scowled at the back of her head. It did. I stopped Voldemort like I was supposed to. Not my fault that nobody wanted to think about me afterward.

Within a ring of red and white shields, a rusted coat of mail, crumbling longsword and the two cloven halves of a short, thick wand rested beneath a thin film of dust and dirt. Old, yellow bones poked through the rings of the armour and fragments of a broken skull lay inside the ring of a gleaming golden circlet.

'Not much,' Blaise murmured. 'Grab the gold, Tracey. He should be wearing a necklace; it's the necklace we want.'

'Not the gold?' Harry asked.

'Gold is good,' Blaise replied. 'Old gold is better, but the real value is in selling enchanted, ancient things with a bit of a story to a collector.' He licked his lips. 'That necklace is supposed to shine with red light when anyone nearby wishes you ill or means to harm you; it's worth about eighty galleons to the right person.'

'Huh…' Harry watched Tracey cast a narrow, faint beam of light around. 'That's more than I thought.'

A lot more. He did some quick mental maths. Twenty or so of those, and I'd be goblin-debt free.

'A dozen or so things like that can make you pretty rich.' Blaise's smile widened. 'Of course, in our cases, it's more about paying off debts to dangerous people.'

Tracey dropped down into the barrow, crunching fragments of skull under her right boot. Harry winced at the snap of bone, a little shudder sweeping through him.

'Any sign of that necklace?' Blaise asked.

'Shut up and fucking wait,' Tracey snapped, swiping the golden circlet and tossing it up with both hands. 'That's solid gold. Worth fifteen or twenty galleons. Not much else down here but weapons and bones.'

Blaise cursed under his breath as he caught it. 'Guess they decided not to bury him with all the treasure.'

'Hold on.' Tracey dragged the front of the mail shirt down to bare a necklace of gold links fashioned into oak leaves clasped at the back by a pair of small crossed axes. 'That it?'

'That's it,' Blaise said. 'Grab that and let's get back to the Spiny Serpent.'

Tracey snatched it from among the thin, yellow ribs scattered across the stone slab beneath and apparated back up beside Harry with an ear-splitting pop.

'That's it?' Harry asked. 'Are we going to fill in the hole?'

'Nah,' Blaise said. 'Nothing much down there anyway.'

One of the figureheads, a snarling bear daubed in faded white paint, trembled and fell over into the marsh with a loud splash.

'Already falling apart,' Blaise added.

A second thudded into the reeds.

That doesn't seem good. The well-honed little tingle between Harry's shoulder blades went off like a warning bell. Something bad is probably about to happen.

'I don't think they're just falling over,' Harry said. 'I'm getting a very distinct sense of danger.'

The other ship's prows fell one by one into the water.

'Must have had some magic tied to the necklace,' Tracey said. 'I didn't think to fucking check that.'

A thin figure rose from the bog, coated in mud from head to toe, but clutching a filth smeared, rusted blade in one hand and half a rotten wooden shield in the other.

'Barrow wight,' Blaise said. 'We can apparate out, but they will just chase us forever now.'

'Forever?'

'The magic is tied to whatever they're guarding, Potter,' Tracey said. 'They can sense us now we're triggered it. If you apparate back home, then some time in the night in a week or so, you'll get a really nasty fucking surprise.'

More figures crawled from the marsh.

'One for every ship,' Blaise murmured. 'Of course, the poem said that each of his captains left a sword to fight for him in the afterlife. They meant a warrior, not just a weapon.'

The first wight stumbled through the water toward them, pointing the tip of its rusted longsword at Tracey.

'So are they like inferi?' Harry asked. 'Can we just burn them?'

'They won't burn easily, they've been soaking in that marsh for about fifteen centuries.' Blaise drew his wand and put a blasting hex through the rotten shield, spraying fragments of shattered ribs away into the reeds.

The barrow wight swayed and collapsed into the marsh.

'No need for fire,' he said. 'The magic on them must be barely clinging on, everything's all rotten and rusted.'

'Reducto.' Harry blew the chest of another away; he turned in a slow circle, blowing each of the wights to pieces one after the other.

'Looks like you can be useful with something other than a spade,' Tracey said, snatching her bag back. 'Right, that's us done. Easy stuff.'

'It's a start.' A sly smile spread across Blaises's face. 'I'll sell those through my mother's contact as soon as I can, and then we all get a share we can take for ourselves. Or…' His smile widened touch, showing off a full spread of teeth. 'We take what we make for this one, buy ourselves some good kit, and then hit the road to do this seriously.'

'What?' Harry demanded. 'Become a full-time graverobber? No thanks.'

'Obviously the fucking crybaby was going to say no, Blaise,' Tracey snapped. 'This is a good way for us to all get rich. We can find another person, someone with a bit of actual spine, too. He'd just get walked all over by us instead of Weasley and Granger.'

'I don't get walked all over,' he said.

'Well, we'll be at the Spiny Serpent for a couple of days while I sell this,' Blaise said. 'Come down on Wednesday and get your share, Harry. If you've changed your mind, the offer's still open.'

I won't. Harry opened his mouth.

A snort of laughter escaped Tracey. 'He won't. He's going to take his bit and run right back to be trampled all over by a pair of girls who've been hiding behind him their entire lives. Go rot in that fucking bottle, Harry.'

'They haven't been hiding behind me,' Harry retorted. 'They were bravely fighting for what was right while you were… doing whatever it was you were doing. Helping the Carrows torture little girls, probably.'

Tracey's green eyes flashed. 'Fuck off, Potter. You have no idea what it was like for everyone else while you were running away. Your girlfriend bravely went to school and got detention a couple of times for shouting out stupidly. I think the worst that happened to her was Alecto slapping her across the face. And Granger… worst thing she had to put up with was probably sharing a tent with you. Does Weasley know you two were probably fucking the entire time? They've hid behind you for years. They're hiding behind you now. The goblins are only coming after you, right?'

Exactly right.

'That doesn't mean anything,' he said. 'I was the leader, of course they're coming after me.'

'And Granger and Weasley have helped you, have they?' Tracey cackled. 'Yeah, sure they have. They're probably more angry that they're not going to be able to hide behind you anymore. Granger's some mid-level bureaucrat in the Department for Magical Creature Relations and I can't even remember what Weasley does so it must be even less important.'

'She's an assistant for her twin brother,' Harry said.

'Ah, found someone else to hide behind, has she?' Tracey's eyes narrowed. 'If she's not already fucking someone else, she will be soon. She clearly doesn't respect you anymore.'

Harry swallowed a flare of anger and turned to a smirking Blaise. 'I'll see you Wednesday.' He disapparated with a violent crack.

---

The Break in the Burrow

The last bits of blossom lay scattered across the long grass below the trees of the Burrow's orchard, browning beneath the overcast grey skies.

Gin stormed through them, her long red hair flying after her. 'Where have you been?' she demanded.

Harry sighed under his breath. 'Out.'

'At some bar,' she accused; her sharp brown eyes swept over him. 'How the bloody hell did you get so much mud on your shoes in a bar?'

'I didn't,' he said. 'I went for a walk.'

Gin's eyes flashed. 'I came back from work and you had just vanished!' She thrust out an arm, jabbing him in the chest with one finger. 'No note. No nothing.'

'It was a walk, Gin.'

Mostly was a walk. And a bit of digging, I suppose.

'I was worried out of my mind!' Gin hissed. 'And you don't seem to care at all!' She took a deep breath, letting her arm fall back to her side. 'I can't do this, Harry. I'm watching you spiral down into I don't even know where. We're… we're done. You can't stay in the flat anymore, either, because that's just going to make everything awkward and harder.'

A fist of ice clenched in Harry's stomach. 'We're done?'

'Done.' Gin stared at him, her lips twisting. 'You should go back to the flat and sort your stuff out. You missed dinner already anyway.' She twisted on her heel and stalked up the hill toward the Burrow.

Nothing in that flat is mine. The goblins took all that already. He watched Gin go through the apple trees, her red hair fluttering after her. And there I was thinking one day we'd get married and have children and do all that sort of stuff together.

Hermione appeared at the orchard gate, pausing there to share a word with Gin.

Harry frowned. 'Oh look, round two.'

'Harry…' Hermione pursed her lips as she approached, stopping a couple of metres away and resting her hands on her hips. 'I found all your letters today.'

'Oh the stash?' A snort of laughter escaped. 'I told you things weren't exactly going well on the money front.'

'You need to sort yourself out.' She crossed her arms. 'You owe the goblins lots of money. And St Mungos. You need to get yourself a job, something to do so you're not just wandering about, and having nightmares, and can pay them back.'

A small hot stab of anger swelled within him. 'Maybe you'd like to pay a third of what I owe the goblins, Hermione? And Ron can pay the other third? Since both of you were there too.'

Hermione twisted her heel in the grass. 'We'd love to be able to help, Harry, but we just can't afford to. We're planning on having a baby soon, remember.'

Harry stared at her. 'Help? As if… it's all me?' The words sounded strange leaving his lips.

'It's your debt, Harry. Your quidditch injuries.'

'My quidditch injuries?' He shook his head. 'If it was just the money I owed St Mungo's, I could have sold everything the goblins took and paid it off. I'd be fine. But for some strange reason, the goblins seem to only expect me to pay for what happened in Gringotts. The entirety of the Lestrange vault, damages, the dragon, and all of that. All just me.'

The grass tore beneath Hermione's foot. 'We'd love to be able to help, Harry, but—'

'But you can't afford it? You think I can? You want to have a baby and get married? You think I don't.' A mirthless smile tugged at his mouth. 'Didn't.'

And now I never will.

Harry disapparated with a deafening crack.

Between the two smooth, dark metal vases full of scarlet flowers, the faded spined, crimson-eyed serpent writhed upon the door.

'Fuck it.' He pushed it open and strode in.

The bar witch reached for a glass.

'No thanks, Jasmine.' Harry drifted past, scanning the seats until he caught a flash of red leather and honey-blonde hair.

Tracey sat, leaning into the corner of the booth with the heels of her black boots on the table, staring up at a small spider building a web over the little window above her. Blaise nursed a tall, deep blue drink opposite her, poring over a handful of pieces of parchment.

'I'm in.' Harry dropped into the seat beside Blaise. 'Take my share for whatever this is going to be.'

A sly smile spread across Blaise's face. 'It won't be… strictly legal. You should bring all your stuff.'

'And don't tell anyone what we're fucking doing,' Tracey said. 'Not your girlfriend, Granger, or any of the thousand fucking Weasleys that seem to exist.'

Blaise slid his drink to one side. 'We can't make any official promises to pay back money, Harry, because you'd have to declare how you intended to get that money. St Mungo's would set the Ministry on us and the goblins don't like curse-breaking competition, so they'd probably try and cut our heads off.' He tapped the pieces of parchment with one finger. 'We're going to leave the country for a little while; we have to stay ahead of a few unsavoury debt collectors of my mother's. Libya first. There's a small place that's been discovered out there by locals who don't like the idea of the ICW or anyone else butting in. If we're quick, we can break in before the ICW talk them around.'

'Fine. Let's go now,' Harry replied. 'Actually, that's a good idea. I have nowhere to stay since Gin didn't take kindly to me vanishing on her.'

Tracey scoffed. 'Weasley dumped you? I think I'd probably just fucking kill myself if I got dumped by a Weasley.'

'Maybe any of the other Weasleys,' Blaise said. 'Ginevra Weasley is fairly attractive. I wouldn't say you should marry her, but a night or two…'

Harry screwed up his face. 'She'd curse you to bits.'

'She's a self-righteous, chippy little bitch,' Tracey retorted. 'Hid behind Potter for years while he fought and now ditches him the moment she can't keep hiding. Just pathetic.' She swept her feet off the table and onto the floor with a thud. 'Potter, you can come stay with me for a day or so, since you're too useless to be left by yourself.'

'Thanks,' he murmured. 'Not sure I can afford a room here.'

'They're about two fucking sickles a night.' Tracey's green eyes swept over him. 'Is that really all you've got?'

Harry stuck a hand into the charmed pocket of his jeans to find the smooth silk of his invisibility cloak and a handful of coins. 'Yeah. The goblins helped themselves to basically everything but my wand, and what I was wearing or had in my pockets at the time.'

'Fuck me.'

Blaise smirked.

'Shut up,' Tracey snapped. 'I like my guys with a bit of actual spine. Potter's a massive wet lettuce. Wouldn't even make a decent fucking salad.'

'Tell that to Voldemort,' Harry replied.

'If I'd the chance to say anything to that fucking bastard, I wouldn't waste it on you,' she muttered; her green eyes burning with venom. 'And I'd take a lifetime in Azkaban with a smile if they caught me doing it.'

Not a Death Eater fan, then. A little shiver swept down Harry's spine at the pure hate in Tracey's eyes. But she wasn't one of us, either.

Blaise slid one of the pieces of parchment into the middle of the table. 'Tomorrow, I'll make the deal with my contact for what he found in that barrow. We'll get just shy of a hundred galleons.'

'Decent.' Harry peered at the mass of ink lines. 'I could make a decent chip into my St Mungo's debt with that.'

'A third of that,' Tracey cut in.

Blaise's blue eyes flicked between them. 'Pretty much all of that is going to go on equipment. Tents. Gear. A reusable backdoor international portkey. I want to get good stuff so we can travel fast and light and not get caught. The good, enchanted stuff is expensive to get without anyone knowing you got it, but the portkey will be about fifty galleons on its own.' He drummed his fingers on the table. 'We'll see how much is left, but it should be enough to live on as we go for a while.'

Tracey nodded. 'Works for me.' She kicked Harry under the table. 'Works for Potter, too, if he wants to stay at mine for a couple of days. Right, Potter?'

Harry sighed. 'Right.'

She snorted. 'Lettuce.'

'Once that's all sorted,' Blaise said, 'we'll head right to Libya and right to this place.'

'What's the place?' Tracey asked.

'Small tomb. On the western bank of Lake Trito just north of the magical town on the island of Mene.' He swept the pieces of parchment back together and tucked them into the pocket of his long wool coat. 'I promised my contact a sickle a week to keep us posted on any rumours like this and he gave me a couple. After Libya, there's some place in Sardinia. Then another in Sicily.'

'How much?' Tracey asked.

'Depends what we find,' Blaise replied. 'You know that.'

'Guess.'

'I'd say we should all come out a hundred galleons richer at the end of it,' he said. 'A fairly good start. Keep it up for a few years and we might even pay off some of our debts, right, Harry?'

Harry did a quick bit of maths. 'Some.'

Tracey smiled. 'And I can keep building my house.' She stood up, sweeping her long blonde hair over her shoulder. 'Speaking of. Potter, stay here. I'm going to get my hair cut, head home to get a few things sorted, then I'll come and get you. Don't go anywhere.'

'That's okay, I can wait.' He caught her hand as she stepped away. 'Thank you for letting me stay for a couple of days.'

Tracey yanked her hand away. 'Don't be such a damp fucking cabbage, Potter. I don't care if you sleep here or on the streets, I just don't want to have to chase you down because you sulked in here after a few drinks and changed your mind.'

'Right.'

A little ember of anger smouldered somewhere inside. Regret saying thank you at all now.

---

The Home Upon the Ashes

Green grass rustled in the morning sun from the foot of the wide, stone steps to the rippling blue surface of the lake beyond the tangle of brambles and nettles sprouting out of the neat square garden beds. The shadow of the large mansion fell behind Harry, its almost temple-esque facade of columns ran along behind him and around to his left, but to his right, the fire-scarred and scorched ruins of the north wing crumbled into an overgrown thicket of weeds and long grass.

No wonder she needs money to rebuild her house. Harry stretched in the early sun. And she needs to buy some furniture, too; nearly all the rooms are empty.

A flicker of red out in the lake caught his eye.

Upon the small circular island rising from the waters, Tracey stood up. She lingered for a moment between a pair of slender oak saplings, then appeared beside him with a loud crack.

'You look like you've been dragged out of the gutter half-dead.' She wrinkled her nose at him, her bright green eyes full of contempt. 'And you smell? Did you not find the en-suite bathroom?'

Harry sighed. 'It's not me that smells; I just don't have any other clothes right now.'

'Those ones should be burnt,' Tracey said. 'And you just look so… pathetic.'

'I just look like me.'

'You're wearing trainers that look like they were buried with Agnar the Red fifteen hundred fucking years ago, and some cheap, baggy Muggle rubbish that smells even worse than he did.' She grabbed his arm and hauled him up. 'Looking at you like this is just annoying, come on.'

With a deafening pop, Harry found himself staggering a couple of steps forward across thick, deep burgundy carpet toward a double bed piled with an ivory duvet and cream blankets.

'This the only time you'll see the inside of my bedroom,' Tracey said. 'So, yeah, go on, make the most of it. Take in the fucking view. Think I might have left some of my underwear out in the bathroom if you want to take a fucking peek in there.'

'I'll pass,' Harry retorted. 'I'd only look better in them and make you jealous.'

She snorted with laughter, dragging him by the elbow into her walk-in wardrobe. 'As fucking if.'

Harry took in the straining shelves and rails, the drawers so full bits of bright-coloured silk stuck out the slim gaps, and the veritable mountain of shoe boxes stacked against all four walls. 'Got enough stuff?'

Tracey shoved him out of her way and prowled around the rails. 'Let's find something that makes you look a bit more like the saviour of wizarding Britain, or at least a bit less like a depressed fourteen year old boy whose first crush just announced her new boyfriend was great in bed.'

'What a weird analogy.'

She smirked and yanked a thin, dark dragon-leather jacket out of a forest of fur coats. 'Here, let's start with this. It's a girls' one, but it'll fit you fine and it's more stylish.'

Harry held it up. 'I don't think this is really my sort of thing.'

'Just fucking take it,' Tracey said, scooping a blonde bang away from her face. 'You clearly have no fucking clue about this stuff.'

Harry considered throwing the jacket back at her, but swallowed his stab of anger. 'Fine.' He plucked it from her grasp and threw it over his shoulder. 'That it?'

She cackled. 'No. I am replacing everything. I am not being seen with you when you're wearing that stuff. Absolutely fucking not.' Tracey wandered around the racks to the very end, rummaging through to the very back. 'Here we go.'

'What?'

She yanked a dark green t-shirt out and tossed it at him. 'I have a few here actually. You can keep them all if they fit. They're not mine.'

Harry stripped off his t-shirt and dropped it into a ball at his feet, pulling the new one over his head.

'Huh, not fucking bad for someone we found rotting at a bar.'

'What?' He pulled it down, tugging the hem down to his waist.

'You.' Tracey's green eyes roved over him, lingering where the t-shirt clung to his chest. 'Guess you managed to keep fit between all the crying and wallowing in self-pity.'

Harry ignored that and pulled the jacket on, slipping his wand from his jeans and sticking it into the jacket's inside pocket. 'Are you going to stare while my jeans come off too?'

'Yes.' Tracey grinned, a flash of bright white teeth and green eyes. 'I want to see what Weasley's lost out on; I never much liked her.'

He fixed her with a long flat stare. 'You think I don't know how to deal with silly girls who chase around famous guys?'

Her grin broadened. 'I don't think you have any idea what to do with a girl at all. You've only dated fucking Weasley. Probably still a virgin, not that I blame you for that being with her.' She chucked a pair of jeans at him. 'These might be a little long, but you can fix that with a couple of spells.'

'Turn around.'

Tracey folded her arms and rolled her eyes, spinning on her heel. 'You little fucking girl.'

Harry tugged his ripped, stained jeans off and dropped them on the pile, shoving his legs into the new pair and yanking them up. He pulled his invisibility cloak from the pocket of his old trousers and stuffed it into his other jacket pocket. 'Done.'

'No you're not.' She bent down, rummaging through the boxes along the wall.

Harry turned away, studying the expensive silk dresses hanging on the nearest rail.

'You're such a wet lettuce.' Tracey laughed and a pair of boots bounced off his shins. 'I got a good eyeful of you with your shirt off and you can't even sneak a peek when I'm bending over right in front of you?'

'It's not a very nice thing to do.'

'Is there any spine to you at all?' Tracey demanded. 'No wonder Weasley wanted you gone, you're fucking boring. Just tiptoe around doing whatever you're asked being all nice and soft and urgh.' She thrust a finger at the black dragon-hide boots. 'Check they fit.'

He sighed and forced his feet into them. 'Maybe a little small?'

Tracey snickered. 'Maybe there is something Weasley will miss.'

'Funny.'

She won't miss anything. What's to miss? They all made their minds up; better to watch me drown than hold out a helping hand and risk getting pulled in.

'Stop moping,' she snapped. 'It's just fucking annoying. You two are done. You're going to go get rich and you're with me. She'd be sick with jealousy if she knew, I'm way fucking better than Weasley.'

Harry spared a moment for her blonde bangs, green eyes, and the full figure beneath those dark red leather trousers, loose black t-shirt and scarlet jacket. She'd definitely be jealous of a few things. Ginny doesn't exactly have a lot up front.

'Ginny looks better than you do from behind,' he retorted.

'Sure.' Tracey's little smirk sent a flash of fury through him. 'You know, you look a little less pathetic now.'

'Thanks.'

She squinted at his hair. 'But something needs to be done about that fucking mess.'

Harry shrugged. 'Don't really care about it to be honest.'

Tracey scoffed. 'Nobody wants to look like a wet fucking crow's nest.' She pulled her wand out. 'Hold still.'

'Nope.' He dipped a hand inside the new jacket and drew his wand out. 'Try it and I'll charm you every colour of the rainbow.'

She laughed and took three steps forward pushing his arm aside. 'Just stay fucking still for a moment. I'm good at these—' a hint of softness crept into her green eyes '—used to do them for my friends at school.'

A flicker of faint warmth tickled the crown of Harry's head.

'Better.' Tracey grabbed his chin and tapped him on the cheek with her wand.

Something cool swept across his skin.

'And now you don't look like a doxie moulted on your fucking face.' She pushed past him. 'Obviously, I didn't give that all to you for free, Potter. You can pay me back after you've actually got some money of your own.'

'Fair enough,' Harry conceded. 'I can pay you back at some point. Might not be until after the first time we find something to sell, though.'

'Don't really care,' Tracey said. 'Not like you're going to run off. Where would you even go? Back to Weasley?'

'No, she threw me out,' Harry muttered. 'Might be able to crash with Ron and Hermione. Or Bill and Fleur. Maybe Tonks. Honestly haven't really spoken much to any of them.'

They all started keeping their distance. Especially Bill and Fleur. Not that you can blame them, they have a kid and the goblins employ Bill.

'If you go crawling back to them, you might as well just let the goblins use your spineless body as a rug.' She scowled. 'Is there anyone you don't let walk all over you?'

'I'm here, aren't I?' Harry swallowed a flash of anger. 'And I'm not going back. I did all of that for them — with them — and they just… pretend it's only my problem. And then they fucking scold me for not being able to fix it.'

Tracey grinned. 'Look, I think we just found the first sign of vertebrae.'

'Oh shut up,' Harry said. 'I didn't see you doing anything brave when Voldemort was about. You're all talk.'

Her eyes narrowed. 'You'll see for yourself how wrong you are. But forget that; don't go back. Fuck. Them. What kind of friends just turn their back on you like that?' Something burnt in the green of her gaze, something so sharp and hot and full of fury Harry took a step back. 'My friends would have died before giving me up like that.'

'I mean—'

'If you defend them I will slap you; stop being so fucking pathetic all the time.'

'I was only going to defend Tonks, Fleur and Bill. The goblins employ Bill and they've both got their kids…'

Tracey weighed it up. 'Good. Because if you were going to say Weasley somehow isn't that bad when all she did was get slapped once by Alecto Carrow and then swan around with you while things were rosy, I will slap you so hard you might even see some fucking sense.'

'Can we talk about something else?'

'Like what? Are you going to tell me they can't help anyway?'

'They can't really. None of them have much money, and Hermione and Ron want to have a baby too.'

'So?'

'Well, can't really be helped. I just… I would rather it was all on me if they just didn't treat me like it was all my fault.'

'It is your fault.' Tracey vanished his old clothes with a flick of her wand. 'You should have stood up publicly as the hero of Britain and told the goblins to fuck right off. The whole country would have backed you, nobody fucking likes goblins, but you just accepted it as just another unfair thing to overcome, and thought you could play quidditch, make good money, and pay it off. Now you're fucked. And it's your own fucking fault. You fucking let yourself end up there. Should've put up a fight when you could.'

Harry took a long deep breath to still the smouldering anger inside. 'Let's talk about something else. Like something you actually know anything about.'

'Yeah. Let's. At the Spiny Serpent.' She laughed and motioned with her head. 'Underway entrance for us now. We're staying low. You know it?'

'Never used it.'

Tracey snorted and snatched his arm. 'You're so useless. Like a little baby fucking bowtruckle fallen off its branch into puddle.'

A deafening crack rang through her bedroom and Harry staggered forward over worn, uneven little mosaic tiles. Tracey stumbled into him, pushing him away with her forearm.

Harry huffed out the smell of her lavender perfume and leant his weight into her, sending her back a couple of steps.

She laughed. 'Fair enough. I'm not winning a shoving match with you; I know what's under those clothes.'

Harry shook his head and followed her up the winding spiral steps and out into the bar. 'Please tell me you're not a quidditch fan. One of those weird ones who goes hunting for photos of me with my shirt flying up or something.'

'I hate quidditch.'

'Good.'

'I just like fucking with you.'

'Great.'

'Maybe if I do it enough I'll find some actual fight in there.' Tracey dropped down at the corner table. 'There's got to be some, you killed Voldemort.'

'Technically, he killed himself. On both occasions.'

'You should probably keep that to yourself, sounds better the other way.'

'I haven't killed anyone.'

'Well, if you're going to start with anyone, start with Weasley. She's stupid enough to ditch you knowing what's under those clothes and after everything you did, so she's basically brain-dead anyway.'

'If you don't shut up about what's under my clothes, I'll start on about what's under yours.'

Tracey's green eyes narrowed. 'Touch me and I'll break your nose so badly they'll never be able to fix it.'

'I wouldn't ever—'

'I fucking know. You're a complete fucking wet lettuce; find some spine, Potter, you take everything lying down so well I half expect to see you upstairs entertaining in the red rooms of the Spiny Serpent.'

'Leave my spine alone.'

Blaise sloped through the tables, a sly little smile on face and the collar of his long brown coat turned up into his dark, curly hair. 'Having fun, lovebirds?'

'Fuck off,' Tracey snapped.

'What she said.'

Blaise's smirk widened and he dragged a seat across to the end of the table, setting his pint drink down on the bare wood. 'Are you all ready?'

'Yes, now get on with it,' Tracey said. 'Let's get going before this damp fucking cabbage of a man crawls back into his wet paper bag and goes whimpering back to Weasley.'

Harry ignored that. 'How did it go?'

'Our next venture is in Libya. There's a small tomb in a quarry nobody has managed to get into yet. From what I've been told, the locals are resisting the ICW's efforts to get involved because the gangs there want it for themselves, but they can't actually get in. We're going to slip in under their noses.'

'What's in there?' Tracey demanded.

'Well, if you're as good as you say you are,' Blaise said, smiling a thin sly smile. 'We'll find out.'

'I am.'

'We'll see, then.' Blaise shrugged. 'I've struck a deal with my mother's associates; they get their money back with interest from this venture and they don't kill me, and they'll lend a hand to make sure we make sure I have a chance to make the money back for them. I bought the equipment through them and got a pretty good deal on a lot of good stuff.' He dug a small handful of galleons out of his pocket and slid five toward Harry. 'Your five.'

Harry swept one toward Tracey.

'I don't want your fucking money.' She flicked it back at him.

'For the clothes, Davis.'

She turned away. 'I said what I fucking said.'

'But earlier you said—'

'Just drop it,' Tracey ordered.

'Fine…'

Blaise slid five more galleons to Tracey. 'Your five.'

'That's it?' She snorted. 'What did you buy? A house?'

'I bought good stuff. Good enough for us to live in and move from dig to dig. I don't trust Antonio an inch and then there are the goblins to worry about too. I think the lower profile we keep, the better. If we have to come back to Britain for a short while for any reason, Tracey can lie low at her place, and Potter and I can come here.'

'What did you fucking buy, Blaise?' Tracey demanded. 'I have my own things. I made them myself and I'm not using anything else no matter how expensive they were.'

'Some went on the enchanted tents and the gear we'll need to live comfortably on the go. Most went on the portkey.' A sly grin spread across his face. 'Apparently, Antonio has a friend who knows a rising star in the ICW. For a favour, that friend of a friend has arranged to slip us a black market ICW portkey through the red tape of their decommissioning department.'

Tracey let out a low whistle. 'Fair enough. I'm surprised there was any change out of our money just for that.'

'Why's that good?'

'ICW portkeys are the keys to just about everywhere,' Blaise replied. 'They bypass most wards because their access is written into all the legal wards you can set up. They're multi-use, re-enchantable and untraceable to anyone but the ICW themselves. If it's been done right, and I'll check when I pick it up tonight, our rising star will have arranged for it to have the tracking charms removed but none of the rest.'

'So we're in.' Tracey grinned and folded her arms across the front of her scarlet jacket. 'The hardest part for us is getting to the places undetected. Getting in won't take me too long. With this, we can slip in, get in, grab anything we like the look of, and slip out.'

Harry nodded. 'Okay, I got it.'

'I'll head back and get ready. Potter, before you go, go see St Mungo's and arrange a way to pay back the money you owe. Lie through your teeth about what you're doing to get it, but set something up. Something believable. Nobody will help the goblins come after you, but the Ministry will pull strings for St Mungo's to track you down and get the money back. That will be harder for us to evade.'

'I'll take him and make sure he doesn't fuck everything up.' Tracey pushed Blaise's chair back with one boot. 'Go get everything sorted. We'll meet here tomorrow and head out, right?'

'Yes.' Blaise raised his glass with a thin smile. 'To the beginning of a new life.'

Tracey snorted.

He downed the last inch of his drink and uncoiled from his chair, stretching and slinking away through the tables.

'Be careful of Blaise.'

'What?'

'He's cold-blooded as fuck. While we're all in it together, you can trust him to have your back, but once he's got what he needs, be careful.'

'Like you're any better.'

Tracey laughed. 'Getting smarter, aren't you? This isn't Hogwarts or your little club of not so goody goody-two shoes. It's dirty and messy and it's going to make me rich enough to finish building my fucking house.' She stood up. 'Actually, you should go say goodbye to anyone you want to say it to, and bring anything of value that you still own back to mine. Doesn't matter if it feels fucking dreadful to do it; we won't be openly coming back to Britain for a long time, so suck it up and get on with it.'

She swiped her handful of galleons off the table and vanished with a loud pop.

'Don't apparate in here!' The barmaid rolled her eyes. 'It's too loud.'

I guess I should go say goodbye. To Ron and Hermione at least.

He shot the barmaid a grin. 'Bye Jasmine.'

'Don't you dare—'

Harry disapparated with a crack, stepping out onto the crumbling crazy-paving back path of Ron and Hermione's small rented house.

In the warm light of the small kitchen, Ron twirled Hermione around in his arms; he wore a huge stupid grin on his face as he spun her about before a couple of empty glasses and a half-opened bottle of champagne.

They're celebrating. He pulled his cloak out and swept it over himself, creeping up to the ajar window. Let's hope they won the wizarding lottery again.

'I'm so happy,' Hermione gushed; her voice floated out through the crack in the window with the smell and sound of sizzling sausages. 'I'm going to be a mum.'

Ron rested a hand across her abdomen. 'Can we name him Chudley?'

'I will hurt you,' she warned, giggling away.

He laughed. 'I'll see if I can pick up some overtime where I can. See if mum has anything she can give us she doesn't need now we're all grown up.'

Hermione leant her head back on his shoulder. 'My parents can help a bit. We can make it work.'

'Yeah, we're not alone. Plenty of our friends will help. George can give us a discount on toys. My brothers can babysit. We can introduce them to Victoire.' Ron grinned. 'Ginny really hopes it's a girl.'

'We'll, I'm not having six boys just to make her happy.'

Ron's smile shrank a bit. 'We should tell Harry.'

'How?' Hermione whispered. 'He's vanished. Ginny said she's not seen him since she dumped him at the Burrow a few days ago. And, this is going to sound really bad, Ron, but I think it's maybe for the best for us. We did everything the goblins are after him for with him; if they ever decide to include us in that debt…'

'We'd be bloody screwed. Bill and Fleur and Victoire too.'

Hermione swiped the bottle of champagne and poured a glass, passing it to Ron. 'We can't have a baby if we get caught up in that. I'm sure he'd understand and forgive us; you know what he's like.'

Too nice. Harry stifled a sharp stab of hot anger. That's what I've been.

'We're hanging him out to dry,' Ron said, taking a gulp from the glass. 'You know that, right. You said it yourself, we've only tried helping him solve our problem for us; we're not really helping him.'

'We all know.'

'Well…'

'Except Ginny.' Hermione tucked the other glass back into the cupboard. 'But he'll be fine; he's been through tough scrapes before, he's strong, I'm sure he'll find a way to bounce back on his own. The whole country loves him. He just has to figure it out for himself this time; we can't afford to be involved.

Well, if I'm on my own, then I might as well make sure I have the best chance of bouncing. He stepped away from the window and pulled off his cloak, slipping out the side gate as he balled the silver, silken fabric up. I bet this would be worth loads of money if I sold it.

Harry disapparated, stepping out onto the shores to the Black Lake.

But if I have to, I'd rather sell the other ones.

He reached out and pushed the cold marble slab aside. 'Sorry, Dumbledore, but apparently all the things I did don't actually mean anything to anyone else when it really gets down to it, so I'm going to have to take this back.'

Worst case, I can sell it to someone. It's probably worth a small fortune to the right person. The Stone too. Harry reached into the tomb. And I earnt them. If they're anyone's, they're mine.

The Elder Wand shivered at his touch and the softest whisper rose in his ears, like wind rustling through the distant dark leaves in the dead of night.

---

The Painting in the Chamber

Warm sand poured over the bare, orange stone, trickling away through the cracks and crevices as Harry sat in the faint shade of the side of his tent, shoving small waves off the edge of the crag with the side of his hand. The sun beat down on him, blazing high in the cloudless blue sky, the scorching heat of it turned everything more than a short distance away to a shimmering haze.

'Don't do that,' Tracey ordered, striding out of her tent with a wince and a scowl at the sun. 'There's nobody up here, but the quarry is privately owned and has security.'

'So?'

She stared at him, swiping her sand off her red leather trousers and white t-shirt, and tugging the strap of her bag back up her shoulder. 'So if they see a whole bunch of fucking sand coming down, they might fucking come up here and see what's fucking going on?'

'Say that again,' Harry replied. 'I got lost with all the fucking.'

'There are people down there, you idiot,' she snapped. 'So fucking cut that out.'

'Can you even manage a sentence without swearing, Davis?'

'Fuck off.'

A snort of laughter escaped him.

'Where's Blaise?' Tracey asked. 'He's meant to be back by now.'

'He is.' Harry pointed at Blaise's tent. 'He went in there a few minutes ago.'

'Good, then I'm getting started.' She swept across to where the shovel stuck from the sand. 'You sure you counted those steps right?'

'I did it three times.'

Tracey unslung her bag, laying it down on the sand and unzipping it. 'Hey, Astoria,' she whispered, lifting out a slim silver chisel. 'Here we go.'

'You named them?'

'Shut. Up.' The pure venom in her green eyes sent Harry several steps back.

'Sorry,' he murmured. 'Didn't realise that was some kind of sore spot.'

'It's not a fucking sore spot,' Tracey snapped. 'Stop being so fucking pathetic; it just makes me angrier with you.' She wrenched the shovel out of the ground and hurled it at his feet. 'Do something fucking useful.'

Harry bent and picked it up with a sigh. 'Same as before?'

'Straight down until you hit rock, then stop. The magic on that shovel isn't meant to cut through stone anyway, so you'll get stuck at the bottom.'

'How far is it?'

Tracey studied the lie of the ground. 'It can't be more than a metre.'

Harry dug around the edge in a small square and watched the sand vanish, baring a smooth, red-orange sandstone. 'Not even that.'

'That's fine.' She pulled out her wand and touched the tip to the stone. 'Nothing yet. Blaise said they found this canyon while quarrying a mile or so east of here. It was full of sand; some old river from a really really long time ago used to be here, but isn't anymore. We'll have to tunnel down and go through the roof.'

'Is that harder?'

'Easier,' Tracey said. 'For some reason, when people design places like this, they always seem to think we'll play fair and go through the door like we're some house guest.'

'Don't you?'

'Most do,' she replied. 'Idiots. You want to be actually good at this, you think outside the box.'

Harry dipped a hand into his pocket and drew out his wand. 'I guess we can't just blast down there.'

Tracey snickered. 'No. Everyone will hear that and the dust will be visible for miles. Cut it up into squares, stack the squares up here, and then let me know if you see anything that's not just rock.'

'Why?'

'So we can put it all back, Potter.' She shook her head at him. 'Did Granger do all your thinking for you? We're not a legal fucking outfit, are we? So we sneak in, take everything, and sneak out, and part of the fucking sneaking is not leaving much sign we were ever here.'

'Alright. Alright.' Harry held up his hands. 'I get it. I get it.'

'Get on with it then.'

'This is going to be boring,' he muttered, dropping down into the hole. 'If I chop, can you levitate out?'

Tracey shrugged her shoulders. 'Sure.'

'Diffindo,' Harry murmured, carving a deep groove into the stone along one edge.

'Put some fucking effort into it or we'll be here forever.'

He poured the flash of anger into his magic. 'Diffindo.'

The spell sliced a metre into the stone like it was butter.

'That's more like it.'

Harry divided the stone up into a grid and frowned. 'How do I cut them at the bottom?'

'Get one corner one out and then we can go from there,' she replied.

He chopped a wider cut into the rock and wiggled his arm down to touch his wand to the base. 'Diffindo.'

A little puff of dust rose from the cuts.

Tracey levitated them out in one go, dropping him down onto the level below. 'Keep going, Potter. You've got another twenty metres to go at least.'

'We need a better way of doing this,' he groused. 'No wonder everyone just goes in through the bloody door all the time.'

'Let me fucking think.' She tapped her wand against her thigh. 'I might be able to do something quicker.'

'It would probably be useful to have a way,' Harry said. 'For next time. In case we need to do this faster.'

'I know.' Tracey jumped down beside him. 'I'm not doing this to save you a little bit of digging, dry your fucking eyes, Potter.'

'As if the scorching heat of this place would even let me cry,' he retorted.

She laughed, crouching down to inscribe runes along the square edges of their shallow excavation. 'I'm sure you'd find a way, you massive fucking lettuce.'

'I wouldn't mind some lettuce right now. Iceberg lettuce. Crunchy and cold and mostly water.'

Tracey leapt back up. 'You might want to get out in the next few seconds, Potter; otherwise you'll be splattered over the bottom of what's about to be a very big hole.'

Harry clambered out.

A flash of green stabbed at his eyes.

She bit at her lower lip and levitated up a layer of neat, square-cut stones. 'Well, the first bit worked, at least.'

'I guess we should just stack them up.'

'Stack them all up, but not too high in case some sees.'

'Someone from where?' Harry asked. 'Nobody from in the canyon can see this top bit. Lake Trito's shore is about three miles down the other end of the canyon and Mene's in the middle of the lake, not at the shore.'

'Fine.' Tracey swept her bangs out of her face. 'Make a giant fucking tower, Potter. See if I care.'

'I don't care if you care,' he retorted, stacking the squares up higher and higher. 'So I am going to build a giant tower—'

It slumped sideways into the sand, sending sand cascading down the canyon.

Oops.

'Fucking great work, you idiot.' Tracey growled. 'Get the rest of them out, I'm going to get Blaise. We better get a move on now in case anyone saw that.' She stomped off to bang on Blaise's tent.

Harry lifted the rest of the stones out, dropping them into the heap.

Blaise stepped out of his tent and strolled over, sipping from a silver, scorpion-engraved hip flask. 'We in? It's hot as hell out here, we better be in.'

Tracey shook her head. 'I made a hole down to about the right level. We'll go in through the roof of the tomb and see how things look.' She glanced at Harry. 'This idiot might have let everyone know we're here, so we better fucking do it now.'

Blaise's forehead creased. 'Let's get a move on then. If this one goes sideways and my mother's old associates think this whole thing won't work…'

'Sucks to be you,' Tracey said. 'And you, Potter, St Mungo's expects you to be paying them five galleons a month.'

'I have five galleons,' he said.

'And next month?' she demanded.

'Stop wasting time.' Blaise drew his wand from inside his long coat. 'It's too hot out here.'

'Take your coat off,' Harry suggested. 'That's not helping.'

Tracey glanced between them. 'Right, Potter. Levitate me down slowly. I'm going to tell you exactly what to do and you're going to do it. You should be good at this.'

'Lumos,' Blaise murmured.

'No.' She swatted his arm aside. 'A lot of tombs around the Mediterranean have wards that react to sudden light. Low light only.' A faint red glow rose around her wand. 'Like this.'

'Wingardium leviosa,' Harry muttered, lifting Tracey an inch off her feet. 'Ready?'

'If you dare fucking drop me, Potter…'

'Don't tempt me, Davis.'

She cackled. 'Lower me down.'

Harry wrapped his left hand around his right wrist and floated her across over the hole, easing the magic flowing into the spell bit by bit until she sank down into the dark. The red glow lit the walls of the hole, turning Tracey to a black silhouette as she descended into the gloom.

Blaise walked to the edge and dropped down, dangling his legs down. 'See anything?'

'Yeah,' she yelled. 'The tomb is further north under the cliffs than we thought and I've hit the top of the passage leading to it. There's no wards on it, it's just a natural cavern that they've expanded. Potter, lower me until I say stop.'

Harry let her down further.

'You can let me go!' Tracey shouted.

He released the spell. 'I wish I had my Firebolt, I could just drop right down.'

'Goblins?' Blaise pointed at Harry's wand.

'Yeah. Had to sell it.' Harry levitated Blaise down into the dark. 'All good?'

'Little bit more!'

He dropped Blaise a little further.

'I'll get you down, Potter,' Tracey shouted up. 'Just stay still.'

I'm not going to like this.

Her magic yanked him forward over the gloom and the bottom dropped out of his stomach, a cold flash of fear biting right through him. Harry plummeted down and hit the floor hard, pain stabbed up through the soles of his feet.

'Ow,' he said, grimacing. 'What happened to slowly?'

'You'll fucking live,' Tracey said, shining the red glow of her wand across the cavern. 'Let's get on with this.'

Smooth sandstone walls rose either side of him, the narrow cavern stretching away before and behind him into the dark. Drips and splashes echoed through the cool quiet and the walls gleamed with damp in the red light of Tracey's wand.

'It can't be far to the entrance,' Tracey said, setting off through the passage.

'We're going to have to go through the door after all,' Harry quipped, wandering after her. 'Guess we didn't get out of the box after all.'

'Go carefully,' Blaise said behind him. 'This looks natural, but you never know...'

'It's all covered in limestone,' Tracey said. 'If they left any nasty surprises, they probably won't work.'

A set of shallow steps studded in small, squat little stalagmites led down to a flat, sandstone-bricked entrance marked only with the faded outline of a red star.

Harry plodded down the stairs after Tracey, his wand in his fist.

'This looks like the place,' she announced. 'Stand back, sometimes there's a backlash when you rip through wards, and if this wall doesn't have wards on it, I'll be fucking shocked.'

Harry snorted. 'You so nearly got through a sentence without swearing.'

'At least I can get through a whole day without crying.' Tracey touched the tip of her wand to the wall. 'Everyone shut up for a moment.'

Harry held his breath.

'Is something wrong?' Blaise brushed past Harry, tossing his wand from one hand to the other and back. 'It doesn't look that tough.'

'It's not.' She placed the tip of the slim chisel against the wall where the crimson star sat. 'That's what's concerning. This is the only way in, if you want to stop people getting in, you make it strong. It's not that strong.'

'Maybe they weren't that good at magic,' Harry said.

Blaise frowned. 'No. This place is old, really old. Mene and Lake Trito have been inhabited by magical folk since before the pyramids and the sphinx were built; they were a major regional power when this tomb was made. There ought to be strong wards and valuable things inside. If there isn't… it feels like a trap.'

'How old?' Tracey demanded.

'This canyon was covered by sand for as long as the current town of Mene has been here. So it's at least three thousand years old. Probably older.' Blaise studied the red mark. 'I don't recognise that at all, though.'

She set the slim silver chisel against it, sketching over the runes upon it as if her wand were a quill. 'Well, I'm going to rip all the magic out. Be careful in case it is a trap.'

Harry raised his wand, holding his breath as his heart beat faster against his ribs.

A brilliant white flash seared his vision and his head rang like a bell.

He shook his head, blinking until his senses returned.

'Nothing,' Tracey murmured. 'Strange.'

'Maybe—' Blaise pointed his wand back toward the gloom '—the original entrance is further back that way down the passage.'

'Maybe.' Tracey tucked the chisel away. 'It's stone now, Blaise. Get rid of it.'

Blaise nodded. 'Evanesco.'

The stones vanished.

Within a small, circular stone chamber sat a smooth, sandstone tomb painted in bright, blue, orange, red and white.

'Well, I hope all the valuable stuff is inside the sarcophagus.' Blaise's upper lip curled. 'Or things are going to get quite a lot more exciting for all of us.'

'Not me,' Tracey said. 'I don't owe the goblins or shady wizards money.'

'Or St Mungo's,' Harry said. 'Let's not leave them out, that witch bargained like I was asking for her soul instead of offering to pay them money back.'

She cackled and poked her head into the room. 'Right, this whole chamber is completely empty, Blaise. This might be a bust.'

'No.' Blaise swept through. 'There's no way. Nobody else has got in here.'

Harry's finely honed sense of unease tingled as Blaise stormed around the inside, shining a bright white beam of light from his wand across the walls, pausing only on the red star on the far wall. 'I think we should be careful; something feels off.'

Tracey nodded. 'A trap, like I fucking said.'

Blaise set his hand on the top of the sarcophagus and shoved.

A tiny flash of white caught Harry's eye. 'Accio,' he snapped, yanking Blaise back into him and letting him bounce off.

The tomb sprouted two foot stone spikes.

Blaise swore under his breath. 'Thanks, Potter.'

'You're welcome.'

Tracey growled. 'No wonder Weasley dumped you if you're that quick.'

'Do you even have a boyfriend?' Harry demanded. 'Or can nobody actually put up with your dirty mouth and horrible personality.'

She grinned at him. 'If I had a boyfriend, I bet he wouldn't mind my dirty mouth. Or my—' Tracey pushed her chest out a little '—personality.'

Blaise pushed himself to his feet, dusting off his long brown jacket. 'Stop flirting and get on with things.'

'I'm not flirting with her,' Harry objected. 'She's nowhere near nice enough to talk to, let alone date.'

'You'd love to date me,' Tracey retorted. 'I'd walk all over you just like you want, you wet fucking lettuce.'

'Get a new insult—'

The spikes melted back into the tomb.

'If this is a trap, where's the real tomb?' Blaise asked, staring around. 'Is there a side passage somewhere back there?'

Tracey glanced at the tomb. 'No, I scouted it out. It goes back to where the light is, which must be the canyon and down here.'

Harry studied the blank stone walls, wandering around the edge as he peered past the faint layer of dust. The smooth floor rose and fell with each step he took until he reached the clear, clean red star. 'There's no dust here.'

Blaise's head snapped up. 'What?'

'There's no dust. All the other bits of wall have dust.' Harry took a few step backs, side-stepping the sarcophagus to gaze at the narrow rectangle around the star. 'You could just about squeeze something the size of the tomb through that shape, if it was a gap.'

Tracey conjured a small ball of wood and tossed it at the wall.

It sailed right through and bounced, the thud echoing back.

'I knew there was a reason I decided to offer you a spot with us,' Blaise said, a delighted, thin smile on his lips. 'Right, let's go see what the real tomb looks like.' He poked a hand through the stone. 'This is a very good illusion.'

'Go on then,' Tracey said. 'Get in there you fucking chicken.'

Blaise's lip curled a fraction, but he vanished through the wall.

'Other people are going to come through, aren't they,' Harry said, eyeing the sarcophagus.

'We'll be long gone,' Tracey said. 'Stop fucking about and come on.'

He took a few more steps back, pulling her with him, and pointed his wand at the tomb. 'Reducto.'

The tomb shattered, spraying pieces of stone around the room and sending dust billowing everywhere.

'You're so soft,' Tracey muttered. 'Who cares if someone else gets hurt? Now they'll know we were here.'

'They won't know it was us,' he said. 'And this way nobody will get killed by that thing.'

'I know why you did it.' She brushed his hand away from her arm. 'Now let's go and find something that will make us rich.'

'Or just less horribly in debt,' Harry quipped.

Tracey smirked. 'Not me. I'll be rich.'

He rolled his eyes and followed her through the narrow gap.

Blaise crouched before a second, identical tomb, stuffing gold into his pockets. 'There you guys are. Come on. Take everything that's valuable and then let's get out of here.'

Tracey swept her eyes across the painted vases, tarnished leather and bronze armour, crumbling chariot, and the stuffed, dead horses pulling it. 'This doesn't feel like we're coming away filthy rich.'

'It's a start,' Blaise said. 'Enough to show Antonio we can do this and make the money. Harry, come on.' He waved a hand. 'Get searching.'

Harry peered into the vases.

Liquid glinted within.

He sniffed it. 'Wine, I think?'

'These are all the same,' Tracey said. 'And there's nothing but jars here.'

Harry wandered around the room, admiring the woman painted upon the ceiling. She stood before the veil of night, bearing a bow and two arrows in one hand, a curved bronze blade in the other, and a red crown in the shape of a star upon her head.

'Is that who's buried here?' he asked. 'Her?'

'No,' Blaise said. 'That's Nrt.'

'Who?' Harry asked.

A small sneer crept onto Blaise's face. 'Learn about the history of the magical world, Potter. Nrt is an ancient goddess, long abandoned now, but once very dear here in North Africa, and particularly to magical folk. Nothing remains of her but a few scattered references in the writings of theologians and ancient historians now, but she was considered the first and greatest goddess, and from her have sprung — quite literally according to some myths — many other gods and goddesses, some of which even the Muggles remember, like Ra and Athena.' He glanced up at the ceiling. 'I am all that has been, that is, and that will be. No mortal has yet been able to lift the veil that covers me. Born the first, in the time when as yet there had been no birth.'

Tracey snickered. 'Blaise what is it with you and ancient magical history? Did you memorise half the library section at school?'

'I like it,' he said. 'It's where we came from. The fact it was barely taught at Hogwarts was a travesty.'

Harry stared up at the bright red star upon Nrt's crown. 'That kind of reminds me of the Philosopher's Stone,' he said. 'That and Voldemort's disturbing snake eyes. Also Gryffindor House's points hourglass.'

Blaise kicked in the top of an old chest against the wall and sighed. 'Just carved stones.'

'What have we got?' Tracey asked.

'A few bits and pieces. Most are gold.' He hooked a gleaming chain from his pocket. 'They're old and gold, someone will want to buy them, but probably no more than about seventy or eighty galleons for the whole lot.'

'So… about twenty-five galleons each?' Harry shrugged. 'That's five months of St Mungo's for me. I'll take it. Maybe in that time we'll find more stuff.' He grinned. 'You know what, for the first time in what feels like ages, I actually feel slightly optimistic.'

'Good.' Tracey stuck her wand away. 'They'd be wasted on the townsfolk of Mene, anyway. All they'd do is stick them in a glass case and let people stare at them.'

'Oh.' Guilt writhed in the pit of Harry's stomach. 'They're their history, aren't they? And we're going to sell it to the highest bidder.'

'Oh fucking stop it,' she growled. 'Do you want to be skinned by goblins?'

'Not really.'

'Then dry your tears and stand up for yourself for once.'

Blaise chuckled. 'I think that's it.' He rested his hands on the tomb and shoved it open. 'Yeah, nothing in here but this old guy's bone's and shroud. Back to camp.' He vanished with a loud crack.

Harry dipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out the five galleons.

'What are you doing?' Tracey demanded.

'It's better than leaving them nothing,' he insisted.

Tracey snatched them from his fingers. 'Get out of here, you sappy idiot.' She disapparated with a deafening pop.

'I guess they won't know,' he whispered, staring up at the red star crowning the goddess on the wall. 'And what they don't know can't hurt them.'

A flash of red light tore past Harry as he apparated back out between their tents, sizzling a deep hole into the sand.

'Oi!' he yelled.

Three more crimson spells seared past him and out over the canyon.

'Potter get over here!' Tracey yelled from behind his fallen tower of stones. 'What are you doing?!'

Oh, we're being attacked. Harry glanced about, taking in the seven figures in loose, dark-red robes and white face coverings, and the slim, well-dressed wizard behind them. By whoever these people are.

Another red curse streaked toward him.

Harry threw up his shield, watching it splash against it, then dropped it and strode forward. 'Expelliarmus.' He ducked a beam of glimmering green as the first wizard's wand slapped into his hand. 'Expelliarmus.' He swiped the second from the air.

'Use some proper fucking spells before you die!' Tracey shouted, firing a couple of blue curses past him at their assailants. 'You killed Voldemort, stop fucking about with the schoolyard stuff!'

'This is a proper spell,' he retorted, hurling up his shield to block a trio of red spells. 'They're not a problem without a wand.'

'Blaise would you fucking help—'

A green beam flashed past her face and she flinched back behind the tower.

Harry turned around and marched forward, letting the curses bounce off his shield and burst in showers of sparks. Blaise crawled around behind the tents to his right, wriggling on his belly through the sand, his wand in his teeth.

That seems really unnecessary, but okay.

One of their attackers shouted something in another language and they redoubled their efforts, burying Harry in a hail of green and red spells. The Elder Wand shivered in his pocket, whispering in his ears, soft, but rising faster like the night wind sweeping closer through the Forest of Dean, goading his heart into hammering.

Stop that. He took a deep breath. I can't think, stupid wand.

The whisper subsided, fading away like the cry of an owl into the night.

It's way easier duelling people who don't use Unforgiveable Curses all the time. He watched their magic break on his shield like water on rocks. This isn't even that hard.

Blaise leapt out from behind the tent, whipping a red spell into the side of the well-dressed wizard's head. 'Fuck you, Antonio.' He sneered. 'I knew you'd pull something like this, you worm.'

The other assailant's vanished, swirling away with the telltale whirl of portkeys.

Harry lowered his shield. 'Who's that?'

'Antonio.' Blaise kicked the wizard in the side, rolling him over, and patted down his pockets. 'He works for Il Leone Nero, my mother's associate and who I owe lots of money to thanks her.'

'And he what? Came to collect? I thought you said you'd struck a deal.' Tracey narrowed her eyes. 'Who were the other guys?'

'Let's find out.' He swiped Antonio's wand and turned out his pockets, tossing away a few scraps of parchment, a quill, and keeping a small pouch of coins. 'Enervate.'

Antonio's eyes snapped open. 'Cazzo.'

'Buongiorno, Antonio.' A sly smile spread across Blaise's face. 'What were you going to do after jumping us?'

'Tell Il Leone Nero you were jumped and killed by a local gang, the Red Cobras, take what you found, take that portkey, and sell them without having to settle for just a small cut.' Antonio shrugged. 'It was a good plan. Nothing personal.'

'It was a fucking shit plan,' Tracey said. 'Your gang got crushed by Potter. And he was only using one fucking spell.'

'Isn't he just going to go straight back to whoever and make up some story to blame us and cover himself?' Harry asked.

'Yes,' Blaise replied. 'Or he would, if he was going anywhere.' He levelled the tip of his wand at Antonio's head. 'Reducto.'

Blood splattered the sand.

Harry stared. 'What the fuck?'

'Who's got a dirty mouth now?' Tracey smirked. 'What's the matter, Potter? Never seen someone die before?'

'Not right in front of me like that!'

'How did you fucking beat Voldemort,' Tracey muttered. 'You're as soft as butter.'

'We'll put half the stones back, then drop his body in, then do the rest,' Blaise said. 'I'll take his wand back to his boss when I give him his money, and tell him what Antonio did.'

'What if he doesn't believe you?' Tracey demanded.

'It doesn't matter,' he replied. 'Antonio's dead and can't make him any money. I'm alive and can.'

'You murdered him,' Harry murmured. 'Just… in cold blood. You didn't even pause. Or blink.'

'Oh fucking get over yourself, Potter,' Tracey griped. 'Did you want to die?'

'Well, no.'

'Then be glad he's dead instead. This isn't Hogwarts, you know; if it goes wrong and you get caught, you don't get detention, you get killed.' She bit her lower lip, but her green eyes blazed with fury. 'And that's if you're fucking lucky. So get used to it; you're a thief, you're part of this world now, and you're going to have to get your hands dirty.'

The Elder Wand's whisper swelled in the back of Harry's mind, welling up like blood from a cut, thrumming to the beat of his heart like distant war drums.

'Well, I'm sorry that I'm not as comfortable murdering people as you two seem to be,' he retorted.

'As much as I love watching the two of you fight,' Blaise drawled, 'we should probably fix that hole, bury the body, pack up, and clear back out to Britain for a few days until this is sorted and we're good to go again.'

'How much are rooms at the Spiny Serpent?' Harry slid his wand away. 'Money isn't exactly abundant right now for me.'

'You're staying at mine,' Tracey ordered. 'Otherwise you'll probably get all your money stolen, not pay St Mungo's back, and get us all caught.'

A sly smile spread across Blaise's face. 'Good idea.'

'Do I have to?' Harry asked. 'If I have to stay with someone, I could probably find one of my actual friends.'

'And then get us all fucking caught when you spill the beans to them because you have about as much spine as a dead jellyfish,' Tracey retorted. 'You're staying with me. I have plenty of space.'

'Because you don't have any furniture.' He clenched his jaw, folding his arms. 'Fine.'

'Fucking right it's fine.' Tracey stomped back through the camp. 'Now help me fix this fucking mess.'

---

AN: First short bit posted, the next will follow in a few days, because I wrote them back to back, but after this it will get a little more sporadic - obviously, I'm also writing two other fanfiction longer pieces, my original web serials, and my novel series, which means time is a little tight around work for things like this!

Oh, and you can find all of that other stuff via the linktree if you're interested!

linktr . ee / mjbradley