My nightmare still filters through my mind in little pieces. I try to think about any other details I can remember. "I don't know… maybe there is something else in there Nagini is guarding?"
"Something that could destroy Horcruxes?" Hermione suggests.
"Possibly."
"Well, it's a start." Harry says optimistically. "So how do we get into the Lestrange Vault?"
My mind catches on a detail, something Snape had given us, but both Draco and I had brushed over at the time. "Do we have all the supplies we need for Polyjuice?"
Chapter 16: Run
The month spent brewing Polyjuice Potion in the confines of the tent is marked by tension, routine, and moments of reluctant camaraderie. Each member of the group takes on specific responsibilities to maintain focus and safety: Harry and Ron alternated between maintaining the wards and managing supplies. Ron, the only one the group trusted to blend in during supply runs, ventured out to collect drops left by Ginny and Luna. Each time, the group waited on edge until he returned safely.
Since she had brewed Polyjuice before, Hermione led the brewing process. River took on the meticulous work of preparing the delicate ingredients under Hermione's watchful eye, while Draco's steady hand ensured the precise measurements and stirring were flawless. Together, their combined skills turned the daunting task into an efficient routine.
Snape's Potion's book had provided a few useful tricks that made the process less unstable. The book had also contained a supplementary page tucked in behind the page with the polyjuice recipe. On it, were handwritten notes on counteracting venom and poison from snakes. River and Draco had both cursed Snape while reviewing that page, as the man had clearly known Voldemort had stationed Nagini to protect the cup but failed to tell them when they spoke.
The task fell to Ron to obtain a Bezoar for them to carry with them on the mission to Gringotts. It took him two weeks to find one, and he planned to curse the greasy git with his worst bat bogey hex for not giving them one in the first place.
While a fragile sense of balance existed among Hermione, Draco, and River, tensions flared elsewhere. By the second week, Harry and Draco had reached a grudging respect. River once caught them sharing a quiet conversation during a watch shift and left them to it, understanding the necessity of their alliance.
Ron and Draco, however, clashed frequently, their arguments bubbling over in the tight space. It finally reached a breaking point the week before the potion was ready when Harry snapped, forcing them to take a shift on watch together to "sort it out." By morning, both sported bruises—Ron a black eye, Draco a split lip. River rolled her eyes but cast healing spells in silence. Despite the scuffle, their dynamic eased, with fewer jabs and interruptions during planning.
As the potion neared completion, the tension intergroup dynamics gave way to unease over what came next. The plan had been decided: Draco and River would infiltrate Gringotts, leveraging their ties to the Black, Malfoy, and Lestrange lines for access to the vaults. But the source of their discomfort was Hermione—she would be Polyjuiced as Bellatrix.
They had spent days testing Bellatrix's curved walnut wand, seeing who it would respond to most easily. It rejected both Harry and Ron, its unyielding nature refusing their attempts. Hermione, however, had managed to coax the wand into compliance. The decision was made: Hermione would accompany Draco and River to Gringotts, her transformation into Bellatrix the linchpin of their risky plan.
River's POV
It was time. The potion was complete. We stand outside, readying ourselves for what the next hour will bring.
I watch as Harry brings Hermione into a tight embrace, his lips landing softly on hers as both try and hold back the fear they both feel so acutely. She breaks the embrace and walks back into the tent to have privacy to take the potion.
"Here. These should help." Ron says as he hands myself and Draco two galleons. "We used them with the DA. Hermione has the master coin that she can send you messages on while you are in the vaults. It will heat up if she sends a message."
"Thanks." I say.
A minute later Hermione, or rather faux Bellatrix emerges from the tent.
"Shit, that's weird." Ron says as he watches her approach our waiting group.
"No, no." Draco says with an appraising eye to her walk. "Bellatrix never just walks into a room—she commands it. Hold your head high, straighten your back, and move with purpose, like the entire world is beneath you. Don't hesitate or fidget—she'd never show weakness. Confidence, even if it's fake, is your best weapon." Draco finishes, his voice steady, but I notice the faintest tremor in his hand before he slides it into his pocket. We're all faking a bit of confidence today.
We watch as she shifts her stance and expression. "Like this?" She asks still hesitantly.
"Bellatrix doesn't ask—she demands. She doesn't just speak; she bites, like every word is an insult. Use shorter sentences. Speak slowly but firmly. And don't forget the occasional sneer—it's practically her default expression." I say to Hermione. "You can do this."
"Remember, she is going to demand that her appointed heir and nephew be allowed to access the vault. She will not ask. Once that is done, you shouldn't waste any time, leave. Bellatrix wouldn't care if it was rude, everyone is beneath her." Draco says as they review Hermione's part in the plan.
"I gave them my coin, 'Mione. You can slip away and let them know if anyone goes into Gringotts."
"Thanks Ron." Hermione says as she takes hers out. "Let me test it so you know what to expect." She says as she casts the intricate spell on her coin.
I feel it heat in my pocket and take it out, looking at the front. Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.
My lips quirk into a smile, and I chuckle at how apt she is. "I am settled, and bend up each corporal agent to this terrible feat." Hermione releases a small chuckle at my chosen line as I take her hand.
Draco takes my other hand after a moment. "Ready?"
Draco's grip tightens around my hand, grounding me for what's next. Hermione nods once, her Bellatrix mask slipping into place. A breath, a twist, and the world dissolves into the ether. We land in a side alley off Diagon Alley. With a shared nod between us all, we carry on.
The imposing marble columns of Gringotts rise before us, gleaming under the midday sun. Hermione—or rather, Bellatrix—leads the way, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. She moves with purpose, head held high, her black curls bouncing as though every step is a proclamation of her superiority.
I trail slightly behind, Draco at my side. His expression is one of cold detachment, though his eyes flicker with unease when we pass the armed guards flanking the entrance. The goblins glance up from their work, their wary eyes darting to Hermione, their gazes flickering with recognition—and perhaps fear. While I still do not hear concrete thoughts from the goblins that flank either side of the room, I do hear the continued clicking of clocks… just as it had been when I was here with… I close my mind to the memory quickly and refocus on the task at hand.
Hermione stops abruptly at the central desk, where a surly goblin in a crimson waistcoat sits sorting through a pile of glittering coins. Without preamble, she slams her wand onto the desk, the crack echoing through the cavernous hall.
"I require access to my vault," she announces, her voice slicing through the air like a blade. There's no hesitation, no softness—only Bellatrix's signature brand of venomous authority. "Immediately."
The goblin's beady eyes narrow, his fingers curling slightly around the coins. "Your vault, Madam Lestrange?" he repeats, his tone edged with suspicion.
Draco steps forward, his presence commanding, the perfect complement to Hermione's ferocity. "You heard her," he snaps, his voice clipped and impatient. "She doesn't repeat herself for the likes of you. I trust your hearing hasn't failed you, Griphook."
The goblin flinches at the name. Draco's precise use of it sends a ripple of unease through the room. He leans forward slightly, lowering his voice but sharpening its edge. "Do not waste her time—or mine."
Griphook's lips press into a thin line as he stands, bowing low but never taking his eyes off Hermione. "Of course, Madam Lestrange," he says, his tone dripping with forced politeness. "Shall I summon someone to escort you personally?"
Hermione doesn't miss a beat. She steps forward, her expression twisting into a sneer. "No, you will do" she hisses. "I have other matters to attend to. My appointed heir and nephew will retrieve what I require. See that they are not delayed."
The authority in her tone brooks no argument. Without waiting for a response, she turns sharply, her robes billowing behind her as she strides toward the exit. The room watches her go, goblins and wizards alike parting in her wake as though afraid to incur her wrath.
Draco and I exchange a glance before following Griphook, who gestures for us to come around the desk. The first part was done—Hermione's performance was flawless. But now, we are left to deal with what lays ahead in the vaults.
The clinking of the goblin's key against his belt was the only sound as we followed him deeper into the belly of Gringotts. His mind was as it had been before, the steady ticking of a clock. The air grows colder, damp, and heavy with the scent of stone and metal. Shadows dance across the jagged walls, cast by torches flickering in iron sconces, their light barely illuminating the narrow, winding passage.
Draco walks beside me, his expression carefully neutral, but I could feel the icy tension radiating from him. His hand brushed against mine as if to steady both of us. I wanted to reach out, to offer some reassurance, but now wasn't the time.
The goblin ahead of us turned abruptly, his beady eyes flicking over his shoulder. "This way," he said curtly, his tone clipped and suspicious, as though every step we took was an insult to the sacred institution of Gringotts.
We enter the main track, where carts waited to take us to the lower levels. The goblin gestures for us to climb in, his bony fingers curling over the edge of the cart like claws. "Hurry. We don't have all day."
Draco steps in first, his movements deliberate but smooth, projecting the calm arrogance of someone who belongs here. I follow, doing my best to match his air of entitlement, though my mind danced with nervous energy.
As the cart jolts forward, the cold wind whips against my face, carrying the grinding of metal chains. The tracks twist and turn, the cart careening down at breakneck speed. I grip the edge tightly, the cold iron biting into my palm. As I open my mind to wander, I feel something in the recesses of the cavernous space…a mind vast and overwhelming. It was not sharp or invasive, like the thoughts of humans, but expansive—a sprawling, ancient forest of sensations and instincts.
Before I can press further into the ancient mind I feel in the shadowy recesses Draco leans slightly toward me, his voice low enough for only me to hear. "Remember, you focus on the cup, let me worry about Nagini."
I nod, refocusing on the sharp turns of the tracks and the vaults blurring past us. The cart screeched to a halt, its wheels sparking against the tracks. The goblin hopped out effortlessly, his movements sharp and precise. "Vault 729," he announced, his voice carrying an almost reverent tone. He eyed us both for a moment, suspicion lingering in his gaze.
Draco steps out first, extending a hand to help me down. His grip was firm, grounding, but his expression remained perfectly composed. He nodded at the goblin, his tone dripping with disdainful authority. "Open it. Quickly."
The goblin sneers but obeys, turning to press his long, spindly fingers against the massive vault door. With a series of metallic clicks, the locks begin to disengage.
I inhale deeply as the door creaks open, revealing the treasure-strewn interior. The glint of gold and silver was dazzling, but I close my mind off to it and focus instead on reaching out to the Horcrux.
…Diagon Alley…
Hermione kept her back pressed against the cool stone wall of a narrow alley, Bellatrix's wand clutched tightly in her hand. The Polyjuice Potion distorted her reflection in a puddle at her feet. She couldn't bear to look for more than a moment.
She glanced at the pocket watch tucked inside her robe. Thirty minutes. Just thirty more minutes before the transformation faded and she needed to leave. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears, the rhythmic drumbeat of her anxiety as she kept her gaze fixed on the entrance to Gringotts. She didn't know what she was waiting for—just something. A sign that River and Draco were safe, that nothing had gone wrong.
The streets were eerily quiet, broken only by the occasional skittering of a rat or the faint creak of a broken window frame swaying in the wind. Most of the buildings lining Diagon Alley were abandoned, their doors locked tight or their windows shattered. Hermione shifted uncomfortably, acutely aware of every shadow that seemed to stretch unnaturally toward her.
Then she saw him.
Lucius Malfoy. His platinum hair was unmistakable even in the dim light, though it had lost its usual sheen. He walked with a tense rigidity, his wand hand clenched tightly at his side. Beside him was another Death Eater, a hulking figure cloaked in black. The two moved with purpose, their faces grim as they crossed the street and approached the entrance to Gringotts.
Hermione's breath hitched, panic flaring in her chest. The air around her felt charged, Bellatrix's wand trembling slightly in her grasp as adrenaline surged through her veins.
She took out the DA coin and quickly spelled it to warn them. Lucius is here, at Gringotts. You need another way out. Her hand trembles as she places it back into her pocket. She was supposed to leave, if anyone showed up, she had promised she would leave, they had to stick to the plan. But she couldn't tear herself away from that alley and leave them there without help.
Hermione's mind raced. There was one option, a desperate gamble, but there was someone who could help.
Her hands shook as she raised her wand. Her voice was barely a whisper, quivering with fear as she cast the spell.
"Expecto Patronum."
A silver otter burst forth, illuminating the alley with a soft, ethereal glow. Hermione's heart clenched as she spoke her message aloud, her voice steady despite the terror threatening to consume her.
"River needs help. I'm outside Gringotts, Northwest side alley. Hurry."
The otter seemed to hesitate, as if sensing the weight of her words, before darting off into the darkness. The light faded, leaving Hermione alone in the oppressive shadows once more.
River's POV
As we step into the vault, the music in my head is like a silent, relentless pulse of tension —the beat driving her every step forward. The rhythm is a controlled chaos, fast and precise, matching the pounding of her heart. Each shuffle of gold and shifting shadows, melds with the imagined sound of pounding drums and rapid, slicing strings. It's not music made for beauty or melody—it's a soundtrack for survival. We're barely five steps inside the vault when I feel the burning of the coin in my pocket.
"Shit." I say as I hurriedly try and pull it from my pocket.
"What?" Draco says, still on high alert, his wand at the ready should Nagini strike.
I stare down at the count, its words sending adrenaline into my veins. Lucius is here, at Gringotts. You need another way out.
"We can't go up. Your father is here." I say as I place the coin back into my pocket and draw my wand.
"Fuck." Draco grits through his teeth. "Okay, one thing at a time. Find the cup, then we'll work on getting out of here."
I nod my head and let my eyes fall closed, let my consciousness drift through the musty air that surrounds us, floating like the dust slowly trickling and flitting around. As it stretches out further, I feel it… a distinct voice… slithering into my mind.
"What a thirst for power you have," the voice whispers, reverberating with echoes of desire. "Imagine it, you could rewrite their histories, reshape their futures…"
The shadows in the vault seem to stretch, the glint of gold and jewels casting a deceptive warmth. The air grows heavier, pulsing with the Cup's presence as its voice grows more insistent.
I let myself go, my steps light, my mind pulled by the invisible string that is this voice. "Is that what you offer? The piece he cut away?"
The voice purrs, as if pleased with my words. "I offer treasure beyond measure, wealth without end. All of it, yours to claim. You need only reach for it."
I feel Draco's hand wrap around mine, tense, twitchy… There is still no sign of Nagini and we have ventured much further into the vault. "And what of the end?"
"The end is in sight," the voice replies, its tone dripping with deceitful promise. "It could all be yours. They would kneel at your feet, River Black."
My eyes snap open, and there it is—the Cup, nestled inside a curio cabinet among other glimmering treasures. Its edges gleam unnaturally, as though absorbing every flicker of light in the vault.
I step forward, wand at the ready, and open the cabinet door with a soft creak. With deliberate movements, I draw Hermione's enchanted purse, preparing to levitate the Cup inside.
That's when I feel it. Not the Cup's whispers, but something darker—something alive. The sound of scales sliding across coins sends a shiver down my spine.
"Draco!" I yell, spinning just in time to pull him to the ground as Nagini lunges from the shadows, her fangs aimed at his throat.
The serpent misses by inches, crashing into a nearby pile of treasure with a sickening clatter. Draco and I scramble to our feet, wands raised, backs pressed together as the vault falls eerily silent, save for the faint clinking of disturbed coins.
"She's here," Draco mutters, his voice tight.
I nod, scanning the darkness for the faintest glint of movement. "Get the cup," Draco says firmly. "I have your back."
Lucius Malfoy sweeps into the marble halls of Gringotts, his polished cane tapping sharply against the floor, his face a mask of cold fury. His silver hair catches the flickering torchlight as goblins scurry to and fro, wary of his stormy presence. The imposing figure of Corban Yaxley follows closely behind him.
They stride directly to the counter closest to the path to the vaults. Lucius' voice is low but cutting as a blade. "I need immediate access to the Lestrange Vault."
The goblin behind the desk, a wiry figure with sharp features and sharper eyes, barely looks up as he reviews a parchment. "The Lestrange Vault is currently in use."
Lucius's nostrils flare, his grip on his cane tightening. "By whom? That vault is under my sister-in-law's jurisdiction, and I highly doubt she is here."
Finally, the goblin looks up, his tone as flat as the stone beneath them. "Mistress Lestrange sent her heir and your son to retrieve something on her behalf."
Lucius's expression hardens, his voice dropping to an icy whisper as cold fury boils his blood. "My son?"
…Diagon Alley…
Hermione pulls the hood of her cloak down over her head. She knew the minute they saw her they would not think twice before hexing her in this state. She had to hope she could make them believe she was who she was before they did so.
She hears two sets of soft footfalls edging closer to her and her heart rate spikes.
"Hermione?" A voice whispers.
She glances in the direction of the voice and she feels momentary relief. They came.
"Lupin… Sirius!" She says as she removes the hood of her cloak.
In an instant, their wands are trained on her. "It's me, Hermione, under polyjuice!" She says as she holds both hands, sans wand in the air.
Both men regard her skeptically, Sirius's expression twisting into a sneer eerily reminiscent of Draco's. "If you're really Hermione, tell me—what was the heirloom we talked about in Grimmauld Place, the one you called 'a symbol of wizarding arrogance'?"
A faint smile tugs at her lips. "A House-Elf's head mounted on the wall. I said it was barbaric, and that wizards should treat House-Elves with respect."
Sirius's stance softens but remains wary.
"If you're truly Hermione Granger," Lupin interjects, his voice quieter but no less commanding, "tell me—what spell did I teach you in your third year to deal with the creature in the wardrobe?"
Hermione breathes a little easier. "It was the Boggart. You taught us to use 'Riddikulus' to transform it into something amusing to break its power."
"And what was your Boggart?" Lupin presses.
"Professor McGonagall telling me I'd failed all of my exams."
Lupin lowers his wand and steps forward, enveloping her in a hug. "Merlin, Hermione."
Sirius isn't far behind, pulling her into a quick embrace before stepping back. "What the hell are you doing under Polyjuice as Bellatrix?"
"It's a long story, and we don't have time," Hermione says, her voice edged with urgency. "River and Draco are retrieving something from the Lestrange Vault, and Lucius just went into Gringotts. They have no way out, and there's no way the goblins won't tell him Draco's there."
"Fuck." Sirius says as he turns and starts to march towards Gringotts.
"Pads… fuck, stop!" Lupin says as he pulls him back towards the alley, the only thing allowing him to do so is his werewolf strength.
"She is in there, Mooney!" Sirius pleads while trying to break free.
"And you rushing in there isn't going to help her!"
Sirius sighs, yanks his arm away from Lupin, but doesn't try and charge back in. "Any ideas then?"
River's POV
With shaking hands, I take my wand back out and once again move closer to the cabinet. The cup glistens in the dim light, its voice slithering into my mind like poison.
"Take it. Claim it. This is your moment. You can feel it, can't you?"
"You have no power over me." My voice is firm, but the air around me feels heavier, as if the cup's will is trying to pull me closer.
With a flick of my wand, the cup begins to levitate into Hermione's bag. Its golden surface gleams, whispering still, but I don't let it distract me. I quickly secure the bag and turn back to see Draco standing like a coiled spring, his wand ready, eyes scanning the vault for any sign of movement.
"It's secure. We need to go," I whisper urgently.
"Any ideas?" he asks, his voice tight, his free hand twitching at his side.
I close my eyes, letting my mind drift, reaching out for the dark energy that prickles like static against my consciousness. It's faint but unmistakable—a sinister coil of intent near the front of the vault.
"Trapped. Twisted. No escape. Only his will. Only his control."
"She's near the door," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "She knows we only have one way out."
Draco's sharp inhale betrays his apprehension. "So what do we do?"
I grab his hand, squeezing it briefly before letting go. "A pincer movement. One distracts her, the other gets the door open and provides cover."
"No," Draco says immediately, his tone cold and firm. "We stay together. She's fast, and if one of us gets caught—"
"She can only target one of us at a time," I cut in, my voice steady despite the dread curling in my chest. "We have to split up. It's our best shot."
He stares at me, his gray eyes flashing with icy tension, but he nods reluctantly. "Fine. But you'd better not do anything reckless."
I manage a small, strained smile. "Wouldn't dream of it."
We position ourselves on opposite sides of the vault, each moving as quietly as possible, the metallic clink of shifting coins betraying Nagini's movements in the shadows. My heart pounds as I take my place, wand raised, every muscle tense as I prepare to face the serpent.
"On my mark," I whisper in my mind, locking eyes with Draco across the dim, chaotic space. "Go."
The marble floors of Gringotts echoed with the sounds of sharp, hurried footsteps and heated voices. Sirius strode through the main entryway like a man possessed, his black cloak billowing behind him. His voice carried over the muttered protests of a goblin who struggled to keep pace.
"How dare you mismanage Black family affairs! I've had enough of your bureaucratic incompetence!" Sirius barked, slamming his hands on the counter.
The goblin bristled. "Lord Black, if you would simply—"
"Simply what? Sit quietly while you rob my family blind? You think I wouldn't notice?" Sirius's voice rose, drawing the attention of several goblins nearby.
From the shadows, Lupin flicked his wand discreetly. A distant alarm blared, and a clerk near the back shouted something about a security breach.
"Black," a cold voice interrupted. Lucius Malfoy called from the other side of the entry hall, his pale gray eyes glinting like sharpened steel as he approached. His long cloak trailed behind him, and his cane tapped rhythmically on the marble floor. "What a surprise to find you here. Surely this isn't a misguided attempt to reclaim something you lost?"
Sirius turned sharply, his sneer matching Lucius's. "Funny, Lucy. I was about to ask you the same. What brings you here today? Couldn't find enough boots to lick elsewhere?"
Lucius's expression didn't shift, though his grip on his cane tightened slightly. "The affairs of my family require attention, something I wouldn't expect you to understand. But perhaps you're here because you already know what—or who—requires attention in the vaults below?"
Sirius stiffened, but his sneer didn't waver. "Vaults? If you're looking for your missing spine, I doubt you'll find it among the goblins' treasure."
Lucius ignored the jab, stepping closer, his voice low and venomous. "Do you think I don't know where they are? My son. Ms. Black. Skulking in the depths where they don't belong." His lips curved into a faint, cruel smile. "The Dark Lord will be most pleased when I return them to the Manor."
Sirius's sneer vanished, his wand twitching in his hand. "If you lay a finger on either of them—"
"You'll do what?" Lucius cut in smoothly, his gaze icy and unyielding. "Your bravado is as tired as your bloodline, cousin. But, no matter. I will have what is mine—my son, my wife's traitorous blood—and I will bring them to heel. You're merely a distraction."
Meanwhile, Lupin cast another spell, causing a stack of ledgers behind the goblin counter to burst into flame. Clerks scrambled to extinguish the fire, their shouts blending with the distant sound of clattering carts and blaring alarms. The chaos spread rapidly, drawing attention from the tension-filled exchange in the center of the hall.
"You should leave, Lucy," Sirius growled, his voice low and sharp. "Before this place collapses on your head."
River's POV
The plan is chaos in motion. As Draco moves to draw Nagini's attention, I sprint toward the vault door, each step a desperate gamble. Coins clatter underfoot, their metallic echoes blending with the hissing and clinking of Nagini's movements in the shadows.
"Keep her busy!" I shout, my wand slashing through the air as I approach the vault door. My fingers fumble but with a sharp twist of my wand, the heavy door creaks, inching ajar.
"It's open!" I scream, turning just in time to see Nagini lash out.
Draco deflects her initial strike with a blast of red sparks, but she moves faster than either of us anticipated. Her fangs graze his forearm as he stumbles back, a hiss of pain escaping his lips.
"Draco!" Panic rises in my throat as he runs towards me and I grab him, pulling him through the door. He clutches his arm, his face pale, the venom already working its way through his veins.
Nagini lunges again, her massive body surging toward the door. I throw my weight against it, slamming it shut just as her fangs scrape the edge. The resounding thud reverberates through the chamber, and the hissing fades to an ominous silence.
Draco slumps against the wall, his breathing shallow. "I'm fine," he mutters weakly, but the dark venom seeping from the wound betrays his words.
"Stay still," I say, my voice trembling as I dig into my pocket. I pull out the Bezoar and press it into his hand. "Take this."
He hesitates for a fraction of a second before biting down on the stone. I watch as his color slowly returns, the venom's hold receding. Relief washes over me, but it's short-lived.
The sound of a slow clap draws my attention. I turn and see Griphook eyeing us, his sharp eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and menace.
"You've caused quite the disturbance," he says, his tone dripping with disdain. "Theft from the Lestrange Vault… a highly punishable offense. Perhaps I should call the guards now."
"No," I say quickly, stepping forward. "You don't want to do that."
"And why wouldn't I?" Griphook's gaze flicks to Draco, who is still recovering against the wall. "You've broken the sanctity of Gringotts."
I swallow hard, reaching for the Black heirloom necklace around my neck. "This is a goblin-crafted piece. An heirloom of the House of Black. I'll give it to you in exchange. Let us leave, and it's yours."
Griphook's eyes narrow as he considers the necklace. He steps closer, his long fingers brushing the pendant. "A tempting offer, but not enough."
"What do you want?" I ask, desperation creeping into my voice.
Griphook smirks, his teeth gleaming. "An oath. No retaliation for any piece I take from the Black Vault, no matter what."
My jaw clenches. "Fine. Take it."
He removes the necklace with a reverence that feels like mockery, his grip tight as he examines it. "Done. The dragon is restless— I'd suggest haste if you don't want to incur its wrath."
Without waiting for him to elaborate, I pull Draco to his feet. "Let's go."
His steps are shaky, but together, we move toward where I feel the ancient mind of the dragon.
The metal of the gangway clinks under our boots. We don't dare say anything as we make our way towards what is going to be another challenge. The air is thick with smoke and heat as we enter a large cistern, the sound of chains clinking faintly. Its massive form looms ahead, a living mountain of scars and power. The edges of its consciousness brush against mine, vast and untamed, like an ancient forest alive with shifting shadows and echoes of forgotten storms.
"Oh…" I say as my eyes take in the dragon in front of me. She's beautiful, a soft downy white color… she is also blind.
I let my own mind stretch out cautiously, weaving threads of thought into the sprawling expanse of its being.
"Pain."
I let the word drift between us, soft and understanding. I don't try to hide the weight of my own scars, my own captivity in the labyrinth of the Academy. It feels them—a flicker of recognition, of shared torment.
I edge forward away from Draco, his hand reaches out to try and yank me back.
"What are you doing?" He hisses at me but I continue to make my way towards the dragon.
"Freedom."
The thought ripples outward, carried by the sharp image of broken chains, of open skies, of wings unfurling to embrace the wind. The dragon's forest-like mind stirs, ancient roots shifting, testing my intent.
"You deserve more than this."
I project a flood of emotions: anger at its captors, sorrow for its suffering, and hope—a fragile but unyielding ember that it can grasp if it chooses. The dragon's thoughts swirl, immense and tangled, brushing against mine with something that feels like curiosity.
I take a step closer, my heart pounding in my chest, but my thoughts remain steady. "I am not your enemy. I understand chains, cages. I know what it is to be used, to be controlled. We can help you."
The dragon's breathing slows, the cistern trembling with the weight of its power. Its mind is vast, old, and wary, but there's a shift—a clearing in the storm of its thoughts, a moment of stillness.
I let the image of the open sky return, more vivid now: the warmth of the sun, the rush of wind, the exhilaration of freedom. I pair it with the sound of its own wings cutting through the air, unbound.
"Trust me. Help us escape, and I swear you will never be chained again."
The dragon's eyes glint, ancient gold catching the dim light. Its forest of thoughts grows quieter, its instincts no longer lashing out but drawing inward, evaluating.
When I take another step forward, it doesn't recoil or growl. Instead, I feel a faint echo of something I can only describe as hope, buried deep beneath centuries of pain and rage.
"Together."
I reach out with my mind one last time, my palm lifting in a gesture of trust. The dragon shifts, its chains rattling like thunder as it lowers its massive head slightly, the faintest acknowledgment of my intent.
""Relashio!" I say, my voice barely audible over the crackle of magic as the chains on the dragon clatter to the metal floor. Behind me, I hear Draco's sharp intake of breath as I step even closer.
With a final thought, I offer the dragon the only promise I can: "No more chains. No more pain. Just freedom."
Its roar shakes the cistern, but I don't flinch. I let the sheer force of its will wash over me, knowing we've reached a fragile understanding.
"Quick, climb on!" I say as I climb up the dragon's back.
"This is NOT what I meant about not doing something reckless!" he snaps, glaring at me as he wedges himself behind me on the dragon's spine.
I can't help the smirk that pulls at my lips. "Reckless? This is brilliant…. And this way you can say you have ridden a dragon too." I chuckle.
"You find this funny? We're stealing a bloody dragon!" He seethes, but I can hear the grudging amusement creeping into his tone.
"Technically, we're liberating it." I grin over my shoulder at him."
"Right. Let's be bad guys then. Free a fucking dragon." he bites back,
"I always knew you liked being a bad boy," I tease, nudging him slightly with my elbow as the dragon shifts beneath us, preparing to move.
"Witch." He clings tightly to me as the dragon begins to stretch its wings. "I will punish you later for this."
I glance back at him, arching a brow. "Is that a promise?"
Draco leans closer, his voice low and teasing in my ear. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?."
"Yes, please." I purr as the dragon crouches, preparing to take off.
He chuckles, the sound warm despite the chaos around us. "Good to know."
The dragon launches into the air, the cistern echoing with the roar of its wings, and I clutch tightly to the scales beneath me.
"Hold on tight," I yell over the rush of wind, unable to resist one last jab. "Wouldn't want you to fall off before we had any fun!" a grin stretches across my face as we soar upward.
The Daily Prophet - Special Afternoon Edition: Chaos Erupts at Gringotts: Dragon Rampage Sparks Panic
By Barnabas Cuffe, Senior Correspondent
Diagon Alley was thrown into turmoil yesterday as chaos erupted at Gringotts Wizarding Bank in an unprecedented breach of its infamous security. Witnesses reported hearing deafening roars and seeing a massive dragon burst from the depths of the bank, sending goblins and wizards alike scrambling for safety.
The dragon, described as a pale, scarred creature with tattered wings, tore through the bank's grand halls before breaking free into the open air. Eyewitnesses claim the beast soared high above the alley, its fiery breath casting ominous shadows across the cobblestones. In its wake, Gringotts' iconic marble façade bore scorch marks and damage, while goblins stood visibly shaken.
"I've never seen anything like it!" exclaimed Eustace Wimple, a shopkeeper from Knockturn Alley. "One moment it was business as usual, the next there was this beast clawing its way out of the bank! And I swear, I saw figures riding on its back—though who'd be mad enough to do that is beyond me."
Several witnesses claim that two individuals were spotted atop the dragon as it burst from Gringotts' depths, though the identities of the riders remain unknown. "It was hard to tell," said Amelia Trinket, a witch who had been queuing outside Flourish and Blotts. "There was so much smoke and ash, but I definitely saw shadows on its back. It was like something out of a storybook."
Adding fuel to the fire of speculation is the fact that Lucius Malfoy and Sirius Black were reportedly seen entering Gringotts just prior to the incident. Malfoy, a known associate of former Death Eaters, was spotted leaving the bank shortly after the chaos began, appearing visibly agitated.
When approached for comment, Malfoy declined to answer questions, brushing past reporters with a curt, "No statement."
Multiple sources inside Gringotts have confirmed that Malfoy made inquiries about some of his family's vaults, though officials have refused to confirm if one was breached or if any items were taken. Gringotts has launched an internal investigation, and security experts remain baffled by how such a breach could occur.
The Ministry of Magic has also begun its own inquiry, urging anyone with information to come forward. "This is a serious breach of magical law and public safety," said a Ministry spokesperson. "We will ensure those responsible are brought to justice."
Meanwhile, rumors swirl about the dragon's escape. Some speculate that it was deliberately unleashed to cause a distraction, allowing an unknown party to gain access to one of the vaults. Others claim that the dragon itself had been bewitched.
As for the dragon, its current whereabouts are unknown. Stay tuned to the Daily Prophet as this story develops.
River's POV
The wind whips past us, the roar of the dragon's wings beating against the sky. The coin burns in my pocket, its heat grounding me in the chaos of our escape. I pull it out, the words etched into the surface gleaming faintly.
Blackmoor Estate. Coordinates: 51.1245 N, 1.9460 W.
"We have a destination!" I shout over my shoulder to Draco. His hand squeezes my thigh, steadying me, a silent confirmation that he heard. His grip lingers, grounding me in more ways than one.
I look down at the dragon's rough, scarred scales beneath my hands, its body trembling with raw, untamed power. The ancient beast flies blind—both literally and figuratively—yet its instincts guide it through the skies with precision. But instinct alone won't get us where we need to go.
I gently pat its side, leaning forward until my forehead rests against the ridge of its neck. I close my eyes, let my mind slip into the vastness of its consciousness, a sprawling, ancient forest of sensations and instincts.
"Let me be your eyes," I whisper into its thoughts. "Let me show you where we need to go."
The dragon's mind resists at first—a wild, roaring river of ancient memories, fear, and primal need. But I keep my focus steady, letting my thoughts trickle into its mind like a calm stream, weaving images into its senses. The dragon's consciousness shifts, curiosity flickering through the endless forest of its mind. It senses my urgency, my desperation to reach safety.
"You've flown these skies long before any of us were born. You know the magic of this land better than any map. Trust me, and I'll guide you."
The dragon lets out a low, rumbling growl, a sound that resonates deep in its chest. I feel its massive body adjust mid-flight, the angle of its wings tilting as it changes course, veering toward Wiltshire.
Behind me, Draco leans in closer, his voice low and tense in my ear. "You really think it understands?"
"It doesn't need to understand," I reply, keeping my thoughts connected to the dragon's mind. "It just needs to trust me."
"And what happens if it doesn't?"
I glance over my shoulder, a faint smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Then we hold on tight."
Two hours later, I feel the dragon begin to descend. The closer we get to the ground, the more I feel the tension thrumming through its massive frame. It doesn't see in the way we do, but it listens—to the wind, to the ground, to me.
"There!" I point toward the front of the crumbling Blackmoor Estate, its magical enchantments shimmering faintly as they part to welcome me.
"Great," Draco mutters, tightening his grip around my waist. "Now, how do we land this beast without it breaking every bone in our bodies?"
I don't have an answer—not one that makes logical sense. Instead, I let my mind slip back into the dragon's, letting my thoughts brush against its own. Its mind is vast and sprawling—an ancient forest of sensations and instincts. It doesn't see what's in front of it, but it knows.
"Easy," I whisper, gently patting its scales. "You're free now. There's no more chains, no more cages. Gently..."
Its mind ripples with indecision, but there's a pulse of recognition—a strange echo of my emotions filtering through its consciousness. Familiarity. It doesn't fully understand, but it comprehends enough.
Draco leans in, his lips close to my ear. "River, if you crash us into the side of the manor, I'm haunting you."
I roll my eyes, though my heart pounds in my chest. "Noted. Now shut up and hold on."
The dragon rumbles softly—a sound that reverberates through its body. It doesn't laugh, but the tone feels… amused. It's listening.
As we near the ground, I see the figures below turn toward us. One steps forward, his face partially obscured, but I recognize the unmistakable posture of Sirius Black.
The dragon's landing reverberates through the hills, its claws scraping against the earth with a bone-shaking tremor. As we slide down its side, I press a hand to its scales, grounding myself in its steady presence. The dragon listens—it senses the tension, the emotions swirling in the air.
Draco lands beside me, his grip on my waist steadying me before he steps back. His usual composure is fraying at the edges. I catch him pressing a hand to his arm briefly, the graze from Nagini clearly bothering him despite the bezoar he took earlier.
"Remind me," he says, smirking slightly as I take his hand, "whose brilliant idea was this?"
"Yours, obviously."
"Oh, clearly."
Behind us, the dragon shifts restlessly, lowering its massive head. I turn back to it, reaching out once more. "Go," I whisper into its mind, sending images of open skies and endless horizons. "Go where no one can find you. You're free."
But it doesn't leave. The dragon's thoughts brush against mine—uncertain, hesitant. It taps into my mind, sensing the ache beneath my words. It feels the weight of my past, the cracks in my resolve.
Draco notices too, his eyes widening. "It's not leaving?"
"No," I say softly, wonder creeping into my voice. "It doesn't want to."
The dragon lowers itself further, folding its wings neatly by its sides. It tilts its head slightly, listening to the sounds around us, waiting.
"You're not bound by anything," I whisper, knowing it can hear me. "But we can find you someplace safe…"
A single, deep rumble vibrates through its chest—a sound that feels like agreement. The dragon shifts its head toward me, its blind eyes unseeing but knowing. It feels the truth in my heart, the fragile trust between us.
Sirius, Lupin, and Hermione approach swiftly, their expressions etched with worry and suspicion. Sirius stops a few feet away, his wand drawn but lowered. He raises an eyebrow, clearly impressed.
"Well," he says, his voice dry, "that's certainly one way to make an entrance."
Draco glances at me, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "She's always had a thing for the dramatic."
"Coming from a Malfoy?" I shoot back, rolling my eyes.
The dragon's rumbling chuckle echoes through the hills, a low, resonant sound that feels almost like laughter.
Sirius steps forward again, his wand now raised. His sharp gaze flickers from the dragon to me, then to Draco. He's touching her—too familiar, too close. She's letting him…Doesn't mean I trust him. Doesn't mean I won't hex him if he so much as breathes wrong.
"Hermione told us you were in trouble," Sirius's voice cuts through the stillness like a whip. The unvoiced demand to explain lingers.
"Nice to see you too cousin," Draco mutters beside me, but I nudge him sharply with my elbow.
"Not the time, Malfoy." Sirius practically growls.
"There was something there we needed to retrieve from the Lestrange Vault."
Lupin steps forward now, his brow furrowed in concern. "And what about the dragon? Was that part of the plan?"
The dragon shifts slightly, its massive head lowering toward me. Its presence is a silent, looming force, listening to everything.
"No, but it helped us. And it stayed." I admit.
"Stayed?" Sirius repeats, incredulous. "You've got a bloody dragon following you around like a stray dog?"
I press a hand to the dragon's side, feeling the steady thrum of its presence beneath my palm. Its mind brushes against mine, cautious but curious. It's still deciding what to make of these new voices.
"I offered to help find it somewhere safe," I say softly, keeping my focus on the dragon.
Behind me, Sirius lets out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "Fuckin' Merlin's balls!" His voice is a low growl. "Next thing you'll tell me is that this one's your boyfriend!"
The words hit like a curse, and I freeze. My heart skips a beat, and I feel the heat rise in my cheeks. He has no idea what he's just stirred up.
I glance at Draco, suddenly hyper-aware of the silence stretching between us. We haven't talked about… us. We've barely had a chance to breathe since the Manor, let alone figure out what we are to each other.
Before I can say anything, Draco steps in. His voice is calm, icy, and utterly infuriating.
"Obviously," he says, like it's the most natural thing in the world.
I whip my head around, staring at him in disbelief as he slips an arm around my waist. The movement is smooth, possessive, and absolutely calculated to provoke Sirius.
I feel my cheeks burn even hotter. Red as a Weasley's hair. Fantastic.
Sirius's gaze snaps to Draco, his expression hardening. His wand twitches in his hand, and for a moment, I think he might actually hex him.
"You've got some nerve, Malfoy," Sirius growls as Lupin attempts to hold him back. "You're claiming her like she's some prize?"
Draco's arm tightens slightly around me, but his expression doesn't change. That infuriating Malfoy calm.
"With all due respect, Black," Draco says coldly, "River makes her own choices." He glances at me briefly, his expression softening just slightly. "She saved me. Twice."
"Saved you?" Sirius barks a laugh, though there's no humor in it. "You mean in that den of monsters you call home?"
Lupin steps forward, his voice firm. "Enough, Sirius."
Sirius's gaze snaps to his lover, his eyes narrowing. "You're defending him?"
"He's been with us, he helped us get out of the Manor." Hermione adds, hoping her words are water on the flames of Sirius' temper.
"We've got bigger problems than their relationship status." He turns to me and Draco, his expression calm but serious. Lupin's eyes settle on Draco, sharp and observant. "You're injured."
"It's nothing," Draco says dismissively, though the strain in his voice betrays him.
"You took the bezoar?" Hermione asks as she steps forward to examine the wound.
Draco nods curtly. "Yes. I'm fine."
Lupin studies him for a moment before turning to me. "What happened?"
I let out a shaky breath. "Nagini. She was guarding the vault."
Lupin gasps while Sirius' magic sparks around him. "You fought Nagini?"
"More like we ran from her," I admit. "But yes. She grazed Draco before we got the door shut."
"You need to rest," Lupin says firmly. "We've got supplies inside. Hermione, will you help me get the dittany ready please?"
As Lupin and Hermione head toward the decrepit manor, I start to follow, but Sirius moves in front of us, blocking our path.
His sharp gaze locks on Draco. "You," he says, his voice low and threatening, "If you hurt her—if you break her heart—I'll cut your bollocks off and feed them to that dragon. Understood?"
Draco meets his gaze without flinching. "Understood."
With a sharp turn, Sirius stomps off after Lupin and Hermione.
Draco leans in slightly, murmuring so only I can hear. "Charming family you've got."
I roll my eyes, nudging him with my elbow. "You provoked him on purpose."
Draco's lips twitch into a faint smirk. "Obviously."
The next hour or so pass in a blur of healing spells and hurried conversation. I filled in Sirius and Lupin on everything that had happened, the Manor, the Horcruxes, Draco and I visiting Snape, while Hermione and Lupin tended to Draco's wound. The bite from Nagini is healing, though the raw edges of the graze still look angry. Hermione dabs dittany over the wound, her brow furrowed in concentration, while Draco stubbornly insists he's fine.
"It's just a scratch," Draco mutters as Hermione tightens the bandage.
"Right. A scratch from a cursed snake," Hermione retorts, not looking up. "We'll need to find more bezoars before we get close to Nagini again."
Sirius stands near the entrance of Blackmoor, pacing. It had been hard for him to hear everything we went through at the Manor. And as much as he won't say it out loud, he is worried about Narcissa.
Now, his gaze keeps flickering to the dragon, which remains curled near the manor, its massive head resting on its claws. It hasn't moved since we landed, its blind eyes staring unseeingly toward the horizon.
Lupin is the first to bring up what none of us want to say.
"The dragon can't stay here," he says gently. "It's too exposed. Too vulnerable. And if someone tracks it, it will be found."
"I know," I murmur, my voice soft. "But it doesn't want to leave."
Lupin steps closer, his voice calm and thoughtful. "I might have a solution. Charlie Weasley works with dragons in Romania. If anyone can give it a safe place, it's him."
Hermione perks up at the suggestion. "Charlie? He could definitely help. I know he'd be willing to take it in."
I stand near the door and gaze out at the beautiful creature. I know they are right, but part of me is also sad to think of it leaving. "Let me see what it thinks." I say as I head out to where it rests.
I press my hand to the dragon's rough scales, feeling its steady, ancient presence beneath my palm. The dragon lets out a low rumble, a sound that reverberates through the ground beneath us. I close my eyes, letting my mind brush against its own once more.
"We know a place, a safe place." I whisper, my thoughts threading into its consciousness. "A sanctuary. You'll be free. No more chains. And people to help protect you."
The dragon's mind shifts—a cautious flicker of understanding, followed by a ripple of trust. It knows I'm speaking the truth. It knows I wouldn't lead it into another trap.
"I'll come visit you," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. "I promise."
The dragon lowers its head toward me, its massive snout brushing my shoulder gently. The touch is surprisingly delicate for such a fearsome creature. The feeling of warmth, of a soft spring day, and ancient magic brushes through my mind. I give the dragon's snout a gentle pat before I return to the house, Sirius, Lupin, Hermione, and Draco all watching at the door.
I'll sing it one last time for you
Then we really have to go
You've been the only thing that's right
In all I've done
"It knows." I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. "It will be safe."
Sirius clears his throat. "Right. So, what's the plan? We send an owl to Charlie?"
Lupin nods. "I'll handle it. Charlie will make arrangements, but it'll take time. Until then, it's best to keep it hidden."
I turn back to the dragon one last time, feeling the ache in my chest as I prepare to say goodbye. "Thank you," I whisper into its thoughts. "For helping us."
The dragon's low rumble sounds again—a farewell, but also a promise.
"It's time for us to head back." Hermione says.
Sirius pulls me aside as Hermione, Lupin, and Draco start gathering the supplies we'll take with us. His gaze, so often sharp and calculating, softens in a way that catches me off guard.
"You sure about this?" he asks, his voice low, barely above a whisper. "Going back out there. Back into danger."
To think I might not see those eyes
Makes it so hard not to cry
And as we say our long goodbyes
I nearly do
I nod, the weight of the Horcruxes pressing against my chest like an invisible chain. "We don't have a choice. We're so close, Sirius."
His jaw clenches, and for a moment, I see a long deep buried memory float to the surface of his mind. "You sound just like…Reggie," he says his brother's name softly. "Stubborn as hell, willing to carry the world on your shoulders without asking for help."
"Someone has to."
His eyes flick to Draco, who's leaning against the doorframe, pale but composed. "And him? You trust him?"
I glance over at Draco, my heart giving a strange twist. "I do."
Sirius exhales sharply through his nose, his fingers twitching as if itching to reach for his wand. "If he hurts you—"
"He won't."
Sirius's gaze locks on mine, intense and unyielding. "If he does, River, I swear on the Black name, I'll cut his bollocks off and feed them to that dragon."
A snort escapes me before I can stop it. "Noted. But I don't think it'll come to that."
Sirius huffs, shaking his head, though a faint smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "Still, he's a Malfoy. I reserve the right to threaten him."
"I wouldn't expect any less."
Have heart, my dear
We're bound to be afraid
Even if it's just for a few days
Making up for all this mess
He chuckles, and for a fleeting moment, the tension eases. Then his expression softens again, turning serious. "You're like the daughter I never had, you know. I need you to know that."
The lump in my throat returns, making it hard to speak. "I love you too, Sirius. Thank you—for everything."
He pulls me into a fierce hug, his arms wrapping around me like a shield against the storm. "I'll be here. Whatever happens, wherever you are—I'll be here."
When we pull back, I press the enchanted DA coin into his hand. "We'll stay in touch. Every few days, we'll send a message. Let me know how things are going with the dragon, with Charlie. And we'll let you know if…"
"Hey, you need help, we'll be there," he finishes, his grin wolfish. "That's what family does."
Behind us, Lupin approaches with a parchment in hand. "I've written to Charlie. An owl should reach him by tomorrow."
Hermione checks her watch. "We should go. Ron and Harry will be waiting."
Draco steps away from the doorframe, meeting my gaze. "Ready?"
I nod, casting one last glance at Sirius and Lupin. "Be safe. All of you."
"We will," Lupin says gently, pulling me into a quick hug. "And you—take care of each other."
As we step out into the open air, the dragon lifts its head, listening to our departure. I pause, letting my mind brush against its one last time.
"Thank you again," I whisper, the words drifting into the vastness of its ancient mind. "Be free."
The dragon's low, resonant growl echoes in reply—a promise of understanding.
Light up, light up
As if you have a choice
Even if you cannot hear my voice
I'll be right beside you dear
With a twist, a flick, and a murmured incantation, we disapparate, vanishing into the ether, ready to step back into the fray.
AN: Did anyone pick up the hints that River was going to be able to "talk" with the dragon? I laid out some hints in the earlier chapters. I also liked the duality of her freeing it the way Simon freed her from the Academy.
Okay, on a personal note, I have finished writing every chapter of this story. I will continue with the regular posting cadence, but if you are reading this and would like the updates faster, let me know in the comments and I can see about posting more each week.