Yo!
I am back with Chapter 47 of Broken Shackles.I switched back to writing a third-person perspective story instead of writing it from multiple angles as I didn't receive any feedback on the usefulness/effectiveness of that approach. So, I will stick to what I know the best.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
I will meet you in the end AN.
Enjoy the chapter!
Broken Shackles
Chapter 47
The Cursed Vault
9th August 1994
Lestrange Vault, Gringotts
As Harry's fingers hovered mere millimetres from the cursed cup, the air in the vault seemed to crackle with dark energy. The ethereal chain tightened its grip, pulling him inexorably towards the artefact. Grothnark's desperate cries echoed off the stone walls, a counterpoint to the seductive whispers that filled Harry's mind.
A wave of icy coldness washed over Harry, starting from his fingertips and creeping up his arm like frost on a window pane. His enhanced body, usually so resilient, trembled under the assault of dark magic. The chill spread through his chest, constricting his lungs and making each breath a painful struggle. His heartbeat, usually steady and strong, began to falter and skip erratically.
EmBrAcE yOuR dEsTiNy!
EmBrAcE yOuR dEsTiNy!
EmBrAcE yOuR dEsTiNy!
The whispers in his mind grew louder, more insistent.
SucCuMb, ….. GiVe In To ThE PoWeR…
They promised power beyond measure, knowledge of the deepest secrets of magic, and the ability to bend reality to his will.
But beneath the honeyed words lay a current of malevolence so profound it made Harry's enhanced mind reel. Images flashed before his eyes - visions of destruction, of cities laid waste, of friends and loved ones screaming in agony. Each vision felt more real than the last, blurring the line between hallucination and prophecy.
Harry's knees buckled, but the ethereal chain held him upright, pulling him ever closer to the cup. His skin began to take on a sickly, ashen hue, dark veins standing out in stark relief. His eyes, usually a vibrant green, dulled to a murky, lifeless shade. Sweat beaded on his brow, each droplet seeming to sizzle with dark energy as it rolled down his face.
The vast repository of knowledge in Harry's mind, gifted by the ritual, began to twist and corrupt. Ancient spells and forbidden lore bubbled to the surface of his consciousness, each more terrible than the last. The boundaries between light and dark magic blurred, leaving Harry adrift in a sea of moral ambiguity.
Time seemed to stretch and warp. Seconds felt like hours as Harry teetered on the precipice of giving in to the darkness. His enhanced willpower, usually an impenetrable fortress, began to crack under the relentless assault. The cup's malevolent aura pulsed in sync with his faltering heartbeat, as if sensing its imminent victory.
Grothnark's voice seemed to come from a great distance, muffled and distorted. The goblin's words of warning blended with the dark whispers, creating a cacophony of sound that threatened to drive Harry mad. His vision began to tunnel, the edges of his sight darkening as if the shadows of the vault were closing in around him.
With the last vestiges of his strength, Harry tried to pull away from the cup. But his body, once so finely honed, now felt like a puppet with its strings cut. Every movement was agony, every breath a battle against the encroaching darkness. He could feel something fundamental within him beginning to change, as if the very essence of who he was was being rewritten by the dark magic.
Just as the darkness threatened to consume him entirely, Harry felt the oppressive tendrils tighten their icy grip. His knees buckled, his strength waning as the malevolent whispers reached a deafening crescendo.
SucCuMb, …... GiVe In To YoUr DeSiReS…
Suddenly, a soft popdisrupted the thick tension of the vault. The sound was crisp, sharp, and carried an air of authority. A figure materialized from the shadows, their cloak shimmering with a faint, rippling effect before fading into view—a sign of advanced invisibility magic. The presence brought an almost tangible shift to the atmosphere.
A voice, light and oddly out of place in the gloom, followed. "Well, well. A cursed cup, a brave wizard, and a goblin audience? It seems I've stumbled upon quite the show."
The Unspeakable, robed in swirling dark fabric etched with faint, glowing runes, stepped forward with an unnervingly calm demeanor. Their wand was already in hand, its tip glowing faintly with a golden light. Without waiting for acknowledgment, they raised their wand and began a precise series of intricate movements.
Golden sigils flared into existence around Harry, forming a protective barrier that shimmered like sunlight breaking through a storm. The ethereal chain hissed and recoiled, its spectral form writhing in pain as the sigils tightened around it.
Harry felt the pressure on his chest begin to ease, though his mind still reeled from the dark magic's invasive touch. His breath came in ragged gasps, and the whispers—once deafening—began to falter.
The Unspeakable hummed softly as they worked, their focus unwavering. With a final flick of their wand, the chain snapped, disintegrating into nothingness. The oppressive darkness lifted, replaced by an almost surreal stillness.
Grothnark, still gripping a defensive talisman, approached cautiously. His sharp eyes darted between the Unspeakable and Harry, his suspicion palpable. "Who… Who are you? What is the meaning of this intrusion?"
The Unspeakable ignored the goblin's demand, their attention shifting to Harry, who had collapsed to his knees. Beneath the flowing hood, faintly glowing eyes seemed to pierce into Harry's very soul. The Unspeakable knelt beside him, their movements deliberate, and placed a gloved hand on his temple.
Harry felt a cooling sensation spread through his mind. It was as though a gentle breeze had swept through his thoughts, soothing the jagged edges left by the cursed artefact. He blinked, disoriented, as the Unspeakable's presence subtly entered his consciousness.
Through nonverbal Legilimency, the Unspeakable navigated the labyrinth of Harry's mind with surgical precision. They located the lingering fragments of the cup's malevolence—small, writhing tendrils of dark magic clinging to the edges of his psyche. With delicate but unyielding force, the Unspeakable dissolved them one by one, leaving behind only faint traces of the encounter.
The process lasted mere seconds, imperceptible to those watching. To Harry, it felt like a brief moment of vertigo, a dizziness that passed almost as quickly as it had come. When the Unspeakable withdrew their hand, Harry felt lighter, as though the weight of the experience had been muted, reduced to the echo of an unpleasant memory.
As Harry swayed slightly, Grothnark approached him, his sharp features tight with both concern and annoyance. From within his robes, he retrieved a small, intricately carved vial filled with a swirling, opalescent liquid. He knelt beside Harry, holding the vial out to him.
"Potter,"Grothnark said, his gruff tone softening slightly, "drink this. It's Gringotts' advanced elixir. I always carry it—it comes in handy during appraisals when we deal with… less cooperative artefacts. It should help."
Harry accepted the vial with trembling hands, uncorking it with a faint pop. The elixir's taste was cool and sharp, spreading a soothing warmth through his body as he swallowed. He immediately felt some strength returning to his limbs, the fog of exhaustion lifting slightly.
"Thanks, Master Grothnark,"Harry murmured, his voice hoarse but sincere.
The goblin merely grunted in acknowledgment, his sharp eyes flicking briefly to the Unspeakable before returning to Harry.
As the golden glow of the Unspeakable's purification magic faded, the oppressive darkness that had choked the Lestrange vault began to recede, leaving an uneasy stillness in its wake. The air, thick with the remnants of powerful spells, seemed to vibrate faintly, carrying the lingering weight of the artefact's malevolence. It was quieter now, but the vault still felt heavy, as though the walls themselves remembered the darkness they had contained.
Harry remained seated on the cold stone floor, his back resting against the pedestal for support. His breaths came slow and deliberate, his chest rising and falling as he worked to steady himself. Though the elixir and the Unspeakable's intervention had dulled the pain, the exhaustion clung to him like a shadow, refusing to fully let go.
Grothnark stood nearby, his sharp features creased with a mix of concern and wariness. He didn't speak, his posture rigid as his gaze flickered between Harry and the now-silent artefact. Nearby, the Unspeakable stood motionless, their dark cloak pooling around them like a living shadow. The faint glow of their runes had dimmed, but their presence remained unyielding, a figure of calm amidst the vault's subdued tension.
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the corridor beyond the vault, growing louder with each passing second. Moments later, the vault guard burst into the room, his expression a mix of alarm and suspicion. His sharp eyes scanned the scene—the exhausted wizard, the agitated goblin, and the enigmatic figure cloaked in runes.
"What in the name of Gringotts is going on here?"the guard demanded, his grip tightening on his enchanted halberd. His gaze fixed on the Unspeakable, and his voice took on a harder edge. "Identify yourself. What business do you have in this vault?"
The Unspeakable remained utterly still, offering no reply. The silence stretched, their glowing eyes faintly visible beneath the hood, an unsettling reminder of their presence.
Grothnark, still shaken but regaining his composure, stepped forward and raised a hand to pacify the guard. "Easy, Bromnark. This one,"he gestured to the Unspeakable with a weary sigh, "claims to have been drawn here by the disturbance in the vault. They intervened to save Potter from the cursed artefact."
The Unspeakable finally spoke, their voice calm and unhurried. "Your assessment is correct. The artefact's magic was powerful, invasive, and dangerous. It was attempting to take full control of the boy."
The guard bristled, his suspicion still evident. "And how, exactly, did you know to intervene? Why were you here?"
The Unspeakable tilted their head slightly, as though amused by the question. "I was conducting Ministry business in a nearby artefacts vault when I sensed the disturbance. I knew the situation required immediate action, and I acted accordingly."
The guard narrowed his eyes but said nothing further, his grip on the halberd relaxing slightly.
Grothnark, still uneasy, turned back to the Unspeakable. "You said it was trying to take control of Potter? Do you know what that means for him?"
The Unspeakable's glowing eyes flickered toward Harry, who was still catching his breath on the floor. "It means he was lucky to survive. The artefact's intent was clear—it sought to consume him, body and mind. But your young wizard here…"they paused, their tone almost intrigued, "…he's stronger than most. Whatever training he's undergone has prepared him for such encounters."
Grothnark frowned, his sharp features tense, but his gaze shifted to Harry, whose labored breathing had begun to steady. Seeing how whatever the Unspeakable had done was helping the young wizard, Grothnark grudgingly set aside his pride. Ignored or not, he saw this as a favor to Harry—and the boy's safety mattered far more than protocol.
"He'd better be,"he muttered, his voice gruff but tinged with a trace of reluctant respect.
The Unspeakable returned their attention to Harry, studying him for a long moment before speaking again. "The effects of the artefact won't linger, not anymore. I've ensured that."
But the tension in the vault didn't dissipate entirely. Bromnark's sharp eyes narrowed further, his distrust evident. "The disturbance should have been reported immediately. Who are they to act without consulting Gringotts first?"
The accusing tone brought a ripple of unease to the room, the charged silence only amplifying the question. The Unspeakable stood unmoving, their stillness more unnerving than any retort they might have offered. The glow beneath their hood seemed to flicker faintly, as if amused by the guard's challenge.
Grothnark, sensing the mounting hostility, stepped forward. His voice was measured, but there was a note of finality in it. "This is not the place for accusations, Bromnark. Chief Skarfang will want to hear of this directly. Let us take this matter to his office and resolve it properly."
Bromnark hesitated, his knuckles whitening as his grip tightened further on his halberd. For a moment, it seemed he might press the issue further, but finally, with a sharp nod, he stepped back. "Very well. But this will be addressed immediately."
Grothnark turned his attention to Harry, his expression softening slightly, though his sharp tone lingered. "Can you walk, Potter?"
Harry nodded weakly, his limbs still heavy from the ordeal. Grothnark reached out to help him to his feet, steadying him as he stood. The combined efforts of the Unspeakable's magic and Gringotts' elixir had restored much of his strength, but Harry could still feel the echoes of the artefact's invasive power. He cast a wary glance at the cloaked figure, a mixture of gratitude and lingering unease flickering in his eyes. The Unspeakable returned his look with a faint tilt of their head, unreadable and silent.
The group began their journey through the labyrinthine halls of Gringotts. The sound of their footsteps echoed off the stone walls, a steady rhythm that filled the uneasy silence. Grothnark led the way, his movements brisk and purposeful despite the weight of his thoughts. Harry followed closely, his mind racing as he tried to process the events in the vault. Bromnark walked at his side, his halberd clutched tightly, his gaze darting suspiciously to the Unspeakable, who trailed silently behind them.
The corridors seemed darker than usual, the torches casting elongated shadows that danced across the walls with their passing. Harry could still feel the oppressive atmosphere of the vault lingering around them, like an unseen weight that refused to lift. Even the faint hum of Gringotts' magical wards—a constant presence in the bank—seemed sharper, more alert, as though the ancient magic itself had sensed the disturbance.
The Unspeakable moved with an almost ghost-like grace, their steps imperceptible. Their presence was more felt than seen, an enigma that only added to the tension. Harry stole another glance at them, but their hood remained low, concealing their features and leaving him with more questions than answers.
Grothnark's shoulders seemed to tighten further as they neared the grand doors of Skarfang's office. The weight of what lay ahead pressed upon him visibly, but he straightened his robes with practiced ease and placed a firm hand on the enchanted surface of the doors. The ancient runes carved into the stone flared briefly with a soft, golden light, their glow an acknowledgment of his authority.
With a low, resonant groan, the massive doors swung open, revealing the imposing sanctum of Chief Skarfang. The goblin-led group stepped inside, the tension following them like a shadow.
Skarfang's Office
The grand office of Skarfang was a stark contrast to the chaos of the Lestrange vault. The walls, hewn from dark stone, gleamed with enchanted inlays that pulsed faintly, as though alive with the very magic of Gringotts itself. The room exuded authority, a sanctuary of goblin law and tradition. Every item—from the polished obsidian desk to the shelves lined with ledgers bound in dragon hide—spoke of the ancient and unyielding power of goblinkind.
Grothnark and the vault guard stood stiffly before Skarfang, their unease betrayed by the subtle twitch of their hands. Harry, looking far better than he had mere minutes ago, sat on a bench to the side, his expression carefully neutral. The Unspeakable remained an enigmatic figure, standing near the shadows with their hands hidden beneath their shimmering cloak.
Skarfang leaned forward, his sharp eyes narrowing as he listened to Grothnark's account of the events. The goblin spoke meticulously, his voice steady but tinged with the tension of recounting such a dangerous ordeal. When Grothnark concluded, Skarfang's gaze shifted, his expression unreadable as he turned his attention to the cloaked figure.
"And you,"he said, his voice low and deliberate, carrying the weight of centuries of goblin authority, "Unspeakable. Explain yourself. Gringotts does not tolerate unannounced interference, even from the Ministry."
The Unspeakable stepped forward with deliberate precision, their movements fluid and unhurried, the faint shimmer of runes along their cloak catching the dim light. "I was conducting Ministry business in a nearby artefacts vault,"they began, their voice calm and devoid of defensiveness. "During my work, I detected a magical disturbance of an extraordinary nature emanating from a nearby vault. The urgency of the situation required immediate action."
Skarfang's sharp nails tapped rhythmically against the surface of his obsidian desk, the sound echoing in the quiet tension of the room. His eyes narrowed, skepticism clear in his expression. "And yet you chose not to inform Gringotts. You simply acted, disregarding our authority."
The Unspeakable inclined their head slightly, the gesture neither deferential nor dismissive. "Lives were at immediate risk. The artefact posed a threat not only to this establishment but to the wizarding world at large. I acted accordingly."
A low hum of magic thrummed through the room as Skarfang touched a crystal orb embedded in his desk. The air shimmered, and a glowing projection of Gringotts' access logs appeared, the details written in flowing Gobbledegook. Skarfang scrutinized the data with a practiced eye, his fingers tracing the holographic records.
After a tense moment, he gave a single, curt nod. "Your claim is verified. You were indeed present in the Ministry's artefacts vault. For now, your explanation holds."His sharp eyes flicked back to the Unspeakable. "But do not mistake this for leniency. Gringotts expects full transparency in such matters going forward."
The Unspeakable remained silent, offering no reaction beyond a subtle shift in their stance, their stillness a calculated response to the goblin's scrutiny.
Skarfang turned his attention to Harry, his tone softening slightly as his gaze assessed the young wizard. "Apprentice Potter,"he said, his voice measured but not unkind, "you were nearly consumed by this artefact. Your resilience is commendable, but such encounters are not without consequence. What can you tell me about what you faced?"
Harry met the goblin's gaze, his voice steady despite the lingering weight of his ordeal. "The cup is cursed, Master Skarfang. Its magic is unlike anything I've ever encountered—dark, invasive, and powerful enough to almost break me."
Skarfang's expression grew grim. "And what of its nature, Unspeakable? You claimed insight into its origins."
The cloaked figure stepped forward, their presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. "The artefact is a Horcrux,"they said, their voice carrying the weight of the revelation. "A vessel for a fragment of a soul, created through the vilest of dark magic."
A stunned silence fell over the room. Grothnark and the vault guard exchanged uneasy glances, their unease palpable. Even Skarfang, a figure of unshakable authority, seemed momentarily taken aback. His crimson eyes narrowed, his sharp features hardening as the weight of the revelation settled upon him.
"A Horcrux,"Skarfang repeated, the word heavy with disgust. "Such an abomination has no place in Gringotts."
The chief goblin rose slowly from his seat, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the room. "Gringotts will take immediate custody of the cup,"he declared, his voice like iron. "This is our vault, and it is our responsibility. The Ministry's involvement in this matter ends here."
The Unspeakable made no objection, their silence a tacit acknowledgment of goblin authority. Skarfang turned back to Harry, his tone firm but laced with a hint of concern. "Apprentice Potter, you are to report to the Gringotts employee clinic for a full evaluation. Our healers are among the best in the magical world. Only when they deem you fit will you be allowed to leave."
Harry opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it. He nodded respectfully. "Understood, Master Skarfang."
Skarfang gave a single nod of approval before gesturing to the vault guard. "See to it that Potter is escorted to the clinic."
As Harry rose to follow the guard, he cast a glance at the Unspeakable, who remained motionless near the edge of the room. Their faintly glowing eyes followed him, an unreadable expression concealed beneath the shadow of their hood. The Unspeakable offered a small nod, acknowledging Harry's unspoken gratitude.
Skarfang addressed the Unspeakable one final time. "You are dismissed. Gringotts will handle this matter from here."
The Unspeakable inclined their head and turned smoothly, their robes whispering against the stone floor as they exited the office. However, instead of departing entirely, they lingered in the shadows of the corridors, their curiosity about the Potter Heir and his encounter with the Horcrux compelling them to follow discreetly.
With Harry
Harry moved through the winding halls of Gringotts, the vault guard, Bromnark, leading the way with a brisk pace. The flickering torch light illuminated the cold, stone corridors, casting elongated shadows that danced with each step. Harry's body still ached, though the residual pain was a faint echo of the earlier ordeal.
Behind him, unnoticed by Bromnark, the Unspeakable followed at a distance. Their silent footsteps were masked by the natural hum of Gringotts' wards, their presence an unseen specter. Their curiosity about Harry's resilience and the long-term effects of his encounter with the Horcrux outweighed their obligation to leave immediately.
As they approached the entrance to the Gringotts employee clinic, Bromnark stopped and turned to Harry, his sharp features betraying none of the tension from earlier. "Here we are, Apprentice Potter. The healers will be expecting you."
Harry, despite his exhaustion, managed a faint smile of gratitude. "Thank you, Bromnark. For everything."
Bromnark inclined his head slightly, the barest hint of respect in his response. "Just doing my duty, Apprentice Potter. Rest well."
With that, Bromnark turned on his heel and strode away, his halberd clinking softly against the stone floor as he disappeared into the dimly lit corridors. The sound of his footsteps faded quickly, leaving behind a heavy silence.
Harry glanced around and caught sight of a faint movement in the shadows. He didn't need to see the glowing eyes beneath the hood to know the Unspeakable hadn't left. They lingered near the edge of the hallway, their presence unmistakable despite their stillness.
Harry didn't address them directly, choosing instead to push open the clinic doors and step inside. The warm, softly lit interior of the clinic was a stark contrast to the cold, imposing corridors of Gringotts. The faint hum of healing magic filled the air, and a healer dressed in deep green robes approached him with a professional smile.
Healing Clinic, Gringotts
The clinic, tucked away in a quieter wing of the bank, was a modest but well-equipped space. Healers dressed in deep green robes moved with practiced efficiency, their hands glowing with diagnostic magic as they tended to goblin and wizard patients alike.
Harry was guided to a cushioned chair, and the head healer approached, her sharp eyes scanning him with a mixture of professionalism and curiosity. "Apprentice Potter," she said, her voice clipped but not unkind. "You've had quite the day, haven't you? Let's ensure there are no lingering effects."
As the healer began her examination, her sharp eyes narrowed as her hands hovered over Harry, glowing faintly with diagnostic magic. She frowned slightly, her features tightening as she continued her assessment. The magic seemed to hesitate, its silvery glow flickering against Harry's skin, before surging forward to envelop him.
"Apprentice Potter," the healer said, her tone professional but tinged with concern, "whatever you encountered during your work today was exceptionally vile. The magical damage isn't visible on the surface, but it runs deep. I'll need to start cleansing the remaining effects immediately."
Harry nodded, his exhaustion evident but his resolve firm. "Go ahead. Whatever needs to be done."
She inclined her head and began a series of deliberate wand movements. A soothing silver light spread across Harry's body, sinking into his skin like warm water, washing away the residual traces of dark magic. The light flickered faintly, responding to the corrupted energy it encountered, but the healer's expertise quickly overpowered the resistance.
As she worked, the healer glanced at him briefly. "Gringotts rarely sees its apprentices in the clinic. You must have had quite an incident."
Harry gave her a faint, self-deprecating smile. "I don't plan on making this a habit."
The healer didn't return the smile, her focus remaining on the delicate task at hand. "You're a rarity, Apprentice Potter. Most apprentices choose to focus on a single discipline, but managing two apprenticeships would stretch even the most capable wizards. I trust this… incident was an isolated one?"
Harry hesitated briefly but nodded.
Satisfied with his answer, she shifted her wand slightly, adjusting the cleansing spell as it worked deeper into his system. Her eyes flicked to the side, briefly acknowledging the Unspeakable who lingered silently in the corner of the room, their presence unnervingly still. Though she said nothing, her posture seemed slightly tenser under their watchful gaze.
After a few moments, the healer's magic flared brighter before dimming, the spell complete. She lowered her wand, stepping back to examine Harry with a critical eye. "The immediate threat has been neutralized, but there are lingering effects that will take longer to heal. Dark magic of this strength often leaves behind echoes that don't fade easily."
She placed her wand down and folded her arms, regarding him carefully. "Before I proceed further, I'd like to examine your mental state. Magic like this can affect more than the body—it often leaves deeper scars on the mind. May I have your permission?"
Harry tensed slightly at the request, his hand gripping the armrest of his chair. He glanced briefly at the Unspeakable in the corner, their presence like a shadow that refused to fade, before returning his gaze to the healer.
The healer softened her tone. "I understand your hesitation. But all Gringotts healers are bound by the strictest confidentiality oaths. What I learn here stays here—it is as secure as the bank itself."
Harry exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing as he nodded. "Alright. Just… be quick."
The healer inclined her head in gratitude. With a precise movement of her wand, a soft, bluish light extended from its tip, settling gently against Harry's temple. He felt a slight pressure, not unpleasant but undeniably present, as the spell began its work.
Her expression remained neutral as she navigated the surface layers of Harry's mind, carefully avoiding anything unrelated to the task at hand. Her focus narrowed as she encountered the faint remnants of the dark magic's assault—like charred marks at the edges of his consciousness. She moved carefully, her magic dissolving the lingering traces with a practiced touch.
What she found beyond the damage made her pause. Harry's mind, despite the ordeal, was astonishingly resilient. His recovery was not only faster than expected but bolstered by an inner strength that seemed to defy explanation.
After a moment, she withdrew the spell, lowering her wand and taking a step back. "Your recovery is remarkable," she said, her voice carrying a note of genuine admiration. "Most wizards would still be reeling after what you've endured, but your mental defenses are… extraordinary. Whatever training you've undergone has served you well."
Harry shifted slightly, unsure how to respond. "Thanks," he said simply, his voice low.
The healer gave a faint smile and retrieved a small, intricately carved vial from a nearby cabinet. "This is a recovery potion," she explained, holding it out to him. "It will help heal the lingering effects of today's events. Drink it now, and I recommend resting here for a few hours to let it work fully. After that, you should be ready to leave."
Harry accepted the vial, uncorking it with a soft pop. The potion's aroma was faintly sweet, and as he drank it, warmth spread through his body, soothing the remaining tension. He settled back into the cushioned chair, his eyes growing heavy as the potion began to take effect.
With Skarfang
As Harry drifted off under the effects of the recovery potion, elsewhere in Gringotts, Skarfang sat behind his imposing obsidian desk, his crimson eyes fixed on the artefact encased in a shimmering containment field before him. The Horcrux radiated a faint, malevolent energy, its dark presence an affront to the sanctity of Gringotts.
With a sharp but measured gesture, Skarfang tapped an engraved crystal orb embedded in his desk. The orb pulsed softly before a voice echoed through the room. "Manager Bloodstain, I require your assistance with an urgent matter. Please meet me at once."
Moments later, the office doors swung open with a faint creak, revealing Manager Bloodstain. The account manager carried himself with the precision and dignity befitting his role. His steel-grey hair framed a face sharp with intelligence and discipline. He inclined his head respectfully as he approached.
"Chief Skarfang,"Bloodstain greeted, his tone calm and professional. His sharp eyes took in the cursed cup within its containment field, lingering on the faintly glowing dark magic. "What do you need of me?"
Chief Skarfang inclined his head in response, his tone holding a note of deference. "Manager Bloodstain, your expertise is indispensable in this matter. This artefact is not merely cursed—it is a Horcrux, containing a fragment of a soul bound through the vilest of dark magic. It must be destroyed. The Basilisk Venom from our vault is required, and I ask that you retrieve it for use in the ritual chamber."
Bloodstain's gaze sharpened further as he stepped closer to examine the artefact. "A Horcrux?"he murmured, his voice low but filled with disdain. "Vile, indeed. The venom will suffice. I will retrieve it personally and ensure its handling adheres to proper protocols."
Chief Skarfang gave a small nod of appreciation. "Thank you, Manager Bloodstain. Your efficiency and care in this matter are greatly valued."
Bloodstain nodded once more, then departed swiftly to retrieve the venom.
As Bloodstain handled the necessary preparations, Skarfang turned his attention to a stack of enchanted parchments on his desk. With a tap of his clawed finger, a blank parchment glowed faintly and lifted into the air, accompanied by a self-writing quill. The goblin's sharp voice dictated each word with precision, the quill capturing his commands with mechanical efficiency.
"To Manager Snarlgut, Lestrange Accounts.
The item retrieved from the Lestrange vault as part of the Appraisal has been identified as a Horcrux, a vessel for a soul fragment bound through forbidden magic. Its presence is a violation of Gringotts' security and the trust placed in our vaults. Immediate steps are being taken to neutralize and destroy the object. You are to notify the Lestrange family of this breach and ensure they understand the severity of the situation. A formal report will follow."
The parchment rolled itself neatly and sealed with the Lestrange crest. With another tap, it vanished in a shimmer of light, sent directly to Snarlgut's desk.
Skarfang then dictated another message.
"To Overseer Throtwick, Accounts Administration.
The artefact identified in the Lestrange vault as part of the Appraisal has been confirmed as a Horcrux. The situation has been contained, and destruction is underway. A detailed report will be forwarded to the board to address the lapse in detection and ensure all protocols are reviewed. Gringotts will remain vigilant against further breaches of this nature."
The second parchment sealed itself with the Overseer's emblem and disappeared with a faint glow.
Hours Later
With Harry
Several hours later, Harry stirred, blinking against the soft glow of the clinic's enchanted lamps. The ache that had lingered in his body earlier was completely gone, replaced by a sense of lightness and strength. The head healer stood nearby, her wand hovering over him for a final check.
"You're cleared to leave, Apprentice Potter," she said briskly, though her tone carried an air of approval. "Your body has fully recovered, and I see no signs of lasting damage. Do rest for the next day or so, but otherwise, you're in excellent shape."
Harry stood, rolling his shoulders and flexing his fingers. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "For everything."
The healer nodded. "It's my duty. And if I may add… few could recover from what you've faced as quickly as you have. That resilience will serve you well."
Harry inclined his head in gratitude, gathering his belongings and preparing to leave. As he stepped out of the clinic into the quiet corridor, he wasn't surprised to see the Unspeakable still lingering nearby, leaning casually against the wall as though they had been waiting for him.
"You're still here?" Harry asked, his tone neutral but curious.
The Unspeakable tilted their head slightly, the faint glow of their eyes catching the light. "Call it professional curiosity,"they replied smoothly. "Your resilience is… intriguing."
Harry gave a faint smile, a mix of amusement and weariness in his expression. "Glad to know I'm keeping you entertained."
The Unspeakable let out a soft chuckle, their tone carrying a subtle undercurrent of respect. "More than entertained, Potter. I suspect this is only the beginning."
With that, they straightened, their cloak swirling slightly as they stepped back into the shadows, their presence fading into the dim light of the corridor. Harry shook his head, a faint smile still lingering as he made his way toward the exit. He felt stronger, sharper, and more determined than ever—a testament to his recovery and his unwavering resolve to face whatever lay ahead.
As Harry stepped into the cool evening air outside Gringotts, the lingering exhaustion from the day's events clung to him like a heavy cloak. He moved toward a quieter section of the bustling street, seeking a discreet spot to Apparate. Just as he thought he'd escaped unnoticed, a shrill, familiar voice sliced through the din.
"Heir Potter! Surely you have a moment for the press?"
Harry turned, his tired eyes narrowing slightly as Rita Skeeter approached, her acid-green quill already darting across her enchanted notebook. Her exaggeratedly sweet smile did little to hide the calculating gleam in her eyes, and the way she emphasized "Heir Potter" felt more mocking than respectful.
"Your thoughts on the recent Werewolf legislation?" she asked, tilting her head in a mockery of innocence. "You know, the Wizengamot's groundbreaking decision to tighten the leash on those dangerous creatures, for everyone's safety, of course."
Her quill scratched frantically as she spoke, recording every word as though Harry had already answered. Harry blinked, thrown by the abruptness of the question. His mind, still foggy from the events in the clinic, struggled to catch up. He straightened slightly, regarding her with a mix of confusion and annoyance.
"Why bring that up now?" he asked, his tone cautious, though the weariness in his voice was evident. "I don't see how it's relevant."
Rita gasped theatrically, placing a hand over her chest as though mortally offended. "Why, Heir Potter, everyone is dying to know your stance! You're not just anyone, after all. You're a voice of progress, a beacon of hope for change!" Her tone dripped with sarcasm, and her quill scratched out something feverishly in her notebook. "Surely, you have someopinion on such a pressing matter."
Harry's expression hardened slightly, though he resisted the urge to correct her tone or her assumptions. He was far too tired to engage in her games. Instead, he sighed, leveling her with a sharp look.
"Since you're so keen to know," he said evenly, though his irritation seeped through, "I think it's a terrible law. It alienates people who are already marginalized and makes their lives harder for no good reason. It doesn't help anyone, and it certainly doesn't make anyone safer."
Rita's eyes gleamed, and her quill danced faster than ever, scrawling across the page as though it couldn't keep up with the juicy quote. "Oh, how bold of you, Heir Potter," she said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Such compassion for those… unfortunate souls.Truly, a testament to your character."
Harry felt his patience thinning. He had no energy left to dissect her mocking tone or entertain more of her questions. He turned sharply, muttering, "That's enough," before heading toward a darkened corner of the alley.
"Oh, but surely you—" Rita began, but her words cut off as Harry disappeared into the shadows. Once he was sure he was out of sight, he spun on the spot and Disapparated with a faint pop, leaving her standing alone with her quill frozen mid-sentence, a gleeful grin already spreading across her face.
And Cut.
That's it for this chapter folks.
AN:
Hope you were surprised by the Unspeakable's sudden intervention. For those who think Harry's a bit off, he is obviously a bit off, he went through Hell and a half. Nothing much other than that but showing his efforts to escape, What do you think is that mysterious & vile voice? Do you think Voldy recorded some voice before he sent the cup with Bellatrix to scare anyone who came closer? Or is this more of an instinctive reaction?
Let me know your thoughts on this. Things have been set into motion and I'm sure you'll enjoy a particular scene I've planned in the next chapter regarding the Lestrange Vault. ;).
Now, let's lighten the mood with a bit of fun, shall we? I've decided to add a little brain teaser at the end of each chapter to keep your minds sharp and ready for the next twist and turn. Here's your puzzle for this chapter:
Puzzle of the Chapter:
Just for those curious, the answer to the last puzzle:
I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I? - Is an echo.
Congratulations to those who got it right.
Here is another one:
"I have cities, but no houses. I have mountains, but no trees. I have water, but no fish. What am I?"
Think you've got it? Mull it over, and I'll reveal the answer at the end of the next chapter! Share your answers in comments/reviews. Until then, keep your wits about you and enjoy the unravelling mystery. Happy sleuthing!
Also a curious question: does the dates help you at all? Like if I remove it, will you mind or you like knowing which day the scene is happening?
Let me know in your reviews and do share your feedback and suggestions!
I'm very delighted to share that you can now read 2 early chapters of the story - Ch 48 and 48.5 on my patron. My user name is same BlackInfinity1289 on patron website.
Note: They are early access only, they will be eventually released here as well.
Also, if you want discuss about the story or the ideas, you can join my discord server. I go by Henry there, give me a ping to say hi.
link: discord. gg / SPsSwAcq4b
Hope to see you there!
Thank you for reading.
Good Day!
Black Infinity 1289,
Ja Ne.