Chapter 47
Even in the dead of night, the magical district of Paris was vibrant and full and lacking the sense of trepidation that filled the air of Britain. Here, the men and women were free to dine and enjoy their social lives without fear of being set upon by Riddle and his followers, though Harry found no comfort in their ignorance of what was happening across the Channel.
Perhaps it was the nature of what brought them here that didn't allow him to relax in swathes of people passing them by, or maybe the life he'd lived had left him perpetually paranoid that he could be attacked at any given moment.
Regardless, he'd not ventured here for to take in the culture or appreciate their French counterparts.
"Are you sure about this?" the other Harry questioned, his gaze fixated on branch of Gringotts only a short distance away.
"No," Harry answered honestly, "but what choice do we have.
The other Harry nodded.
"So, we just go in there and wing it?"
Harry snorted amusedly.
"That's about it," he confirmed. "We must tread carefully when getting to her, but I have little hope we will get out without attracting attention to ourselves."
"Fucking goblins."
Harry nodded his agreement.
"Bastards," he grumbled. "Come on, let's not hang around."
"Wait," the other Harry implored. "Have you ever done anything like this?"
"Rescuing someone? Yes, but not from the goblins. When I broke into Gringotts it was to retrieve a Horcrux. We made it out, so I will take that as a good sign. We will get her back."
The other Harry released a deep breath to prepare himself for what was to come.
"Let's go," he urged, removing his cloak, and placing it over himself.
Harry followed and tapped his wand with his forefinger to check the magical connection they'd established between them.
The code to communicate they'd created was imperfect, but they'd done the best they could without wasting the precious time they had, and when his wand vibrated in response, the two of them approached the large, white building knowing that for most, this would be a suicide mission.
Harry had no intention of dying at the hands of the goblins, and as they entered, his eyes roamed about the large room filled with desks.
As with the London branch, a goblin was sitting behind each one, some counting coins whilst others scratched away with quills.
The bank was almost devoid of customers at this hour, not a promising sign, but Harry knew that time was not on their side.
The goblins, although bound by certain treaties with the Ministry they fell under, were not like humans when it came to justice, and any delay could mean the death of the other Harry's wife.
No, he wouldn't allow it to happen.
If necessary, he would steal another dragon and burn the entirety of Paris to the ground to prevent it.
He felt another vibration alerting him that his companion had placed one of the goblins under the Imperius Curse, as discussed. Carefully, so as not to cause any disturbance, he approached the large steel door being opened on the other side of the room.
Passing through it only a foot behind the goblin, Harry skirted around the creature as it closed the door.
"Take me to Eleanor," the other Harry whispered harshly.
The goblin seemed to resist for a brief second before its eyes glazed over once more, and it complied with a nod.
"Wait, why am I the one controlling the goblin?"
"Because it may well need a clear head to get her out of wherever they're keeping her," Harry whispered. "You're too emotionally involved in this, and that could well lead to mistakes. You'd be saying the same to me if our roles were reversed."
The other Harry said nothing, and they continued on their way through the twists and turns of the lower depths of the bank.
It was the same sense of trepidation that had filled him during his foray into the British branch that washed over him once more, but Harry knew they would fare better here.
Or so he hoped.
Wizards and goblins had fought many wars over the centuries, and he wouldn't underestimate them.
Their magic was different, and the tunnels of the bank were saturated with it, menacing and foreboding.
Nonetheless, they pressed on in silence for what appeared to be miles until the goblin paused in front of a large stone wall, seemingly leading to nowhere.
"She's nearby," the other Harry whispered. "I can feel her. Open it!" he commanded.
The goblin struggled against the Imperius Curse for several moments, and Harry became concerned it would fight it off. However, it reluctantly complied, pressing its gnarled fingers against the stone.
It flickered ominously for a moment before a small door formed, and the trio stepped through, only for it to slam behind them.
"Well, shit," the other Harry cursed. "I expected it to go tits up, but not so quickly."
He removed his cloak to face the dozens of leering goblins, seemingly waiting for them with a variety of weapons drawn. "I don't suppose we can talk about this?"
Receiving only a growl in response, he readied himself whilst Harry remained hidden.
This was not how either wished for the evening to progress but both had known it was a possibility.
As such, they'd come up with another rather ludicrous contingency plan as they journeyed here. Well, making it up as they went along was not much of a plan, but thus far in life, it had seemed to serve them well enough when given no other choice.
Shaking his head, Harry carefully began skirting around the goblins, doing his utmost not to brush against any.
The situation they found themselves in was not favourable, and as he passed through them, he hoped not to be on the receiving end of any of the sharp blades, axes, clubs, and bows they wielded.
Cursing himself that they found themselves in the very position they'd hoped to avoid, he released a deep breath before sending the first signal.
As one, the other Harry quickly snapped his cloak back over himself in a single, fluid motion whilst Harry revealed himself behind the goblins.
"I'm here," he goaded.
They turned towards him, each wearing a look of shock and seizing the opportunity the other Harry struck.
Chaos immediately ensued as spells began to fly, and weapons were swung, but they'd succeeded in confusing the goblins who were utterly perplexed that they seemed to be being attacked by one person from several different angles.
In truth, it was both Harry's fighting against the goblins, shifting quickly to avoid the blows aimed at them and taking it in turns to curse the goblins.
It was working well, and yet they remained significantly outnumbered.
Still, they needed to thin the numbers they faced before implementing the second part of their plan.
It was unwise enough to attempt to combat as many goblins as they were as a duo.
To do so alone would be unforgivably foolish.
If it weren't such a severe development, Harry would likely find the entire situation almost comically poetic to how his life had been, but it was anything but.
They were here for a reason, and as he spotted another door only a short distance away, he detected a pulse of human magic coming from behind it.
The other Harry's wife was in there, and they weren't enduring this adversity to fail in their impromptu mission.
(Break)
Barty stalked through the halls of the Ministry of Magic, all but slamming the doors to the Wizengamot chamber open when he reached them. He didn't appreciate being called away from his office at such an ungodly hour, not when he had several things occupying his mind.
He'd been in his post for such a short time, and already, four Aurors had died, and he had more than two dozen of them currently on leave due to injury.
Now, Leach had the gall to request his presence, an unwelcome interruption to the latest development of his investigation.
As expected, the Lestrange boy was here in lieu of his now-deceased father, and there were other notable absences, one in particular coming as quite the surprise, though it shouldn't have.
Barty never liked Corbin Yaxley, but for his body to be found amongst the wreckage of Diagon Alley after the area had been thoroughly searched prior was not news he'd expected.
Nonetheless, Yaxley was the least of his problems, and as he took his spot next to the Minister of Magic, his hardened gaze swept across those in attendance, looking for any others who were absent.
Barty was not foolish enough to believe that this room wasn't playing host to some of Riddle's followers, and no matter who they were, he was determined to ensure they were brought to justice.
Too many had died to simply ignore it, even if the attacks were to stop today.
He was pulled from his musings by a tired Nobby leach clearing his throat, and Barty narrowed his eyes at the spineless man.
If he had been more supportive of his recommendations, perhaps further disaster could've been avoided. Even a Minister such as Nobby Leach had more influence than most within the room.
There were those who would vote in favour of anything the Minister of Magic supported to curry the man's favour, but Leach had proven himself a coward, unwilling to do what was necessary to put an end to the threat that Tom Riddle had proven to be.
"Lords and Ladies, thank you for responding so quickly to my request for a meeting," the Minister began sombrely. "I have requested your presence here to discuss the current bight in our community, and it is with a heavy heart that I must tender my immediate resignation."
Barty could only shake his head in response whilst the others in the chamber discussed the announcement amongst themselves.
Some were displeased, and others did a poor job of hiding their delight.
Barty watched as Nott and his cohorts put their heads together, undoubtedly finding a way the situation could be turned to their advantage.
As much as Leach had lost his respect, Barty knew the timing of the man leaving his post could not be worse.
Whilst the Wizengamot spent the coming days, perhaps weeks, voting in a replacement, the government would be without its figurehead.
It was concerning, though not as deeply as the prospect of a candidate who supported Riddle taking office.
No, that simply couldn't be allowed.
"Minister, do you think this is the right time to tender your resignation?" Dumbledore asked gravely.
The Chief Warlock was seemingly unhappy with Leach's decision, partly because the timing was indeed rather poor and partly because the man would not be able to avoid being nominated for the position once again.
Not that he'd accept, of course.
He never had, and he'd made it very clear that he never would.
Unless he was swayed by the current climate.
Barty wasn't sure whether or not it would be something of a comfort to have Dumbledore as the Minister of Magic.
He didn't dislike Albus; on the contrary, he respected the man for all of his achievements, but Barty wasn't convinced he was right for the Minister's job.
Leach released a deep breath as he nodded.
"I'm afraid so," he answered. "The public needs someone who is decisive and strong enough to lead them through this. I am no such man. I know what must be done to ensure victory over Tom Riddle, but I cannot bring myself to do it. Call me a coward if you will, but I am an honest one, at the very least. I cannot serve Magical Britain as I once did, and at a time when the men and women who look to me to lead them, I find myself lacking. However, I urge you all not to waste a moment in choosing my successor. We need strength and stability to overcome such terrible adversity. As of now, I am no longer your Minister of Magic, and I implore the Chief Warlock to begin the process of accepting nominations."
Barty nodded his approval.
Leach was indeed a coward who lacked the necessary fortitude to lead them through a war. Nonetheless, Barty respected that he recognised his inability to do his job.
What remained now was to see who would replace him and, ultimately, who Barty would be answering to from now on.
(Break)
Eleanor had never found herself in such a bind. Even when she'd been apprehended by the man who would become her husband, she'd not felt even an ounce of the dread that filled her now as she was being held captive by the goblins.
The creatures were a law unto themselves, and they were not known for their kindness at the best of times.
Still, she held onto the small slither of hope that Harry would realise she was missing and somehow figure out where she was.
It was cold in the stone room she found herself in.
There were no windows, and the door she'd been dragged through at sword point had remained steadfastly locked since it had been slammed behind her.
The goblins had taken her wand and paced some manacles on her, imbued with some odd symbols she'd never seen before. They prevented her from transforming, and when she pulled on the door, the magic within them had made her feel terribly sick.
Eleanor knew that her situation was not hopeful, and that come the morning, it was likely she would be executed.
What that meant for the world, she dreaded to think.
Her Harry would tear the goblin nation to shreds if he was to discover they had killed.
It was a small comfort in the face of impending death.
She could only shake her head at her misfortune.
Eleanor knew she had only brought this on herself, but she'd wanted to do something to help Harry.
It was a mistake, and both of them were going to pay the price for it.
He adored her.
So much so that he'd left everything behind to see her live, and now, it seemed that his sacrifice had been in vain.
It was in such peril that she realised how foolish she'd been, though before she could lose herself in the misery of what had happened, the ground beneath her feet began to tremble.
Eleanor wasn't sure if she'd truly felt it, but then it happened again, stronger than the first time.
She listened as the sound of distance shouting filled her ears, and then came the screaming and the entire room began to tremble more violently.
The sudden influx of bright light caused her to blink rapidly, and standing in the doorway, dripping in blood, was Harry, still fighting off a rather vicious attack from the goblins.
Eleanor could only look on as he wielded his wand, cutting down swathes of the beastly creatures as they charged towards him in what seemed to be a never-ending wave.
With a mighty grunt, his next spell tore through several of them, and he conjured a golden dome around the entrance way before turning towards.
Without preamble, he approached and began tearing at her bindings, and after a moment, they clattered to the floor.
"I'm so sorry," Eleanor whispered harshly, throwing her arms around his neck, and pressing her lips against his.
Harry chuckled and shook his head when she released him.
"I appreciate the gratitude, but you may want to save it for your husband."
Eleanor frowned before her eyes widened in realisation.
"You?" she choked.
"Me," Harry snorted. "Come on, he will need help. Take this. It might not work so well for you, but it is better than nothing."
Eleanor accepted the offered wand, and the man drew another from his left sleeve, this one paler than the first.
Following him from the room, the scene she came upon was nothing short of frightening.
Her husband was wielding a whip of fire and slashing it against the furious goblins, and the Harry who'd helped her cast a curse that felled several of them, the feel of his magic not so dissimilar to that of her own Harry's.
"How are we going to get out of here?" Eleanor asked, casting a blasting curse at a goblin swinging an axe towards her.
Much to her relief, the wand complied, and the axe clattered to the ground as the hand holding it was removed.
"Well, we didn't get that far, but we'll make it out. Don't worry about that."
Eleanor could only shake her head.
This man was just as reckless as her own husband, and what was worse was that he was seemingly having the time of his life.
It baffled Eleanor, but he'd come along with Harry to rescue her from the clutches of the goblins, and she couldn't fault his character.
"Watch out!"
She barely avoided the sword thrusted towards her abdomen and felt rather sick as the head of her assailant exploded in a mist of blood and bone.
Eleanor was no fighter, not like her Harry and the man who'd yet again saved her from an unpleasant wound at best.
"I think it is time to leave."
Eleanor watched as the man tapped his wand, and her Harry nodded from across the room.
She watched as both conjured a eerily blue flame, which tore through the remaining goblins, leaving only a scattering of ash in its wake.
It took considerable effort from both to extinguish the fire, and Eleanor felt her lungs burning uncomfortably even after it was gone.
Nonetheless, with the room clear but an alarm blaring in the distance, she all but sprinted into her husband's arms and he held her tightly.
"It's alright," he soothed. "Are you hurt?"
Eleanor could only shake her head, unable to trust her voice.
She was relieved but still terrified by what could befall them, and the other Harry seemed to be thinking the same as her as he interrupted the reunion.
"Come on, it's not time to fuck around," he said sharply. "We still have to get out of here."
"Any ideas?"
"Do you have your Firebolt?"
Harry nodded.
"Then we have two choices. We can either go back the way we came or we go up."
"Up?"
"That's how we did it last time, but we had a dragon."
Harry snorted.
"We don't have a dragon," he pointed out.
"True," the other Harry conceded. "Then back the way we came it is. I'll take the lead."
With that, he retrieved a wand from within his pocket, and Eleanor's Harry did the same.
She eyed the broom nervously.
He had allowed her to ride it once, and she had never wanted to do so again.
The sheer speed of the broom had terrified her.
"On you get," her husband urged with a grin.
Eleanor merely rolled her eyes at him for doing so.
He truly was in his element, and despite the danger they still faced, his happiness brought a smile to her lips.
She'd not seen him smile in such a way for the better part of twenty years.
He'd swelled with pride at the birth of each of their children, and he'd always been content with the life they'd lived, but this was the man she had fallen in love with, the infuriating, reckless, incredible Hit-Wizard who'd swept her off her meet the moment they'd met.
(Break)
"What is it?" Sebastien snapped as he stormed into the drawing room of his stately home.
He was furious at being disturbed at such an hour.
The Auror who had done so looked suddenly nervous though pale with shock.
"Minister, the alarms at Gringotts are sounding."
"The alarms?"
The Auror nodded.
"I don't know what that means, but I was told to send for you immediately. The bank is currently in emergency measures meaning no one can enter or leave."
"I know what emergency measures mean, you damned fool. I will be there shortly."
The Auror did not respond but vanished, and Sebastien cursed under his breath.
Whatever the goblins were up to, they would be getting a piece of his mind. At the best of times, he despised the nasty, greedy creatures, and in the early hours of the morning when he'd been sleeping, even more so.
Unhappily, he dressed before leaving the comfort of his home and arriving a short distance from the bank.
The streets of magical Paris were teeming with Aurors and all manner of personnel, and Sebastien steadied himself as the ground beneath his feet trembled violently.
"What the hell was that?" he demanded to know.
"It's been happening for around twenty minutes now, Minister," one of the Aurors explained. "We're trying to get information about what is happening, but until the goblins tell us, we won't know."
Sebastien's nostrils flared irritably.
The only thing that could cause such a ruckus would be an attempted break-in, and he, along with every other citizen of magical France, now found their assets at risk.
Millions of galleons were stored in the vaults of Gringotts, and if the intruders were successful, it could potentially be financially crippling for the entire country.
"I want every Auror available here," he instructed. "No one leaves the area. Get preventative measures in place to thwart any attempt to use a portkey or apparating. I want whoever is responsible for this in custody."
"Yes, Minister," the Auror replied, hurrying off to carry out his duty.
Sebastien merely stared at the bank, steadying himself as another explosion caused the ground to quake beneath his feet once more.
(Break)
It was like reliving a terrible childhood nightmare, though this time around, he wasn't clinging for dear life to a dragon as it crashed its way through the roof of the bank.
Being on a broom in such narrow tunnels offered only a little more comfort, and as Harry continued to deposit his cargo along the way, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
"WHAT IS THAT YOU'RE DROPPING?" the other Harry shouted over the rushing wind.
"JUST A LITTLE SURPRISE," he answered. "WE MIGHT AS WELL DO IT PROPERLY!"
The other Harry looked concerned, but an expression of concentration replaced it as he realised they were nearing the large steel door they'd passed through to enter the bank's bowels.
Readying himself, Harry's grip tightened around the Elder Wand.
In truth, he'd given it little thought since killing Riddle and taking it for himself.
He'd cast the occasional spell here and there with it, but he'd kept to using his own wand.
Fighting the goblins was the first time he'd used it for combat purposes, and he could not deny that he was taken aback by how responsive and powerful it was.
The wand seemed to respond to his thoughts seamlessly, and Harry could understand why there were those who'd dedicated their lives to finding it.
It was an exceptional wand, a little odd, but Harry intended to get a better understanding of it if they made it out of Gringotts alive.
Why the other Harry's wife had felt it to be a good idea to do what she had, he didn't know, but he couldn't judge her harshly, not when he'd done the very same thing.
Shaking his head of the errant thoughts, he raised the wand and aimed it at the door, preparing himself for what may be waiting for them on the other side.
Not that Harry had any intention of waiting around.
They needed to escape from the bank before things became worse than they already were.
"STRAIGHT THROUGH THE ROOF!" he called. "FOLLOW ME!"
The blasting curse he hurled at the door not only reduced it to slithers of metal, but a considerable portion of the surrounding brickwork followed, showering any waiting on the other side in a mixture of sharp and heavy projectiles.
Racing through the resulting cloud of dust, Harry pointed his wand upwards and fired again, punching an enormous hole in the roof.
A cacophony of shouting, screeching, roars, and bellows followed, and chancing a look behind him as he emerged into the Parisian sky, he breathed a sigh of relief that the escape had been done so quickly.
Waiting for them had been a large gathering of goblins, some trolls, and even a party of giants, all of whom took aim with various weapons.
Harry grunted as a bolt from a crossbow lodged itself into his leg, and he took evasive action to avoid the spells that followed.
Fortunately, the Firebolt was more than capable of exceptional acrobatics, and Harry had never allowed himself to become out of practice.
Checking over his shoulder, he saw that the other Harry was not having as much success.
With an additional person on the broom, it was hindering his progress, and the spells, arrows, and even large stones continued to hurtle towards him.
"Fuck!" Harry cursed, racing towards the struggling duo and putting himself between them and the attackers.
Casting a myriad of shields, their escape proved to be much more difficult than anticipated, but with Harry returning fire where possible and shielding them, they managed to get outside of Paris, just as the sound of dozens of explosions sounded one after the other.
When they were a good distance away from the city, they touched down on the ground, where the other Harry collapsed, clutching his chest.
"What hit you?" Harry asked.
"I don't know," the man wheezed.
"It was a pink spell," Eleanor explained, panicking at the sight of her writhing husband. "He turned the broom so I wouldn't get hit."
Harry nodded as he tore the front of his robes open to see the erratic beating of his heart.
"Well, shit," he cursed, removing the medical supplies he always carried with him.
"Is he going to be okay?" Eleanor asked.
"I don't know," Harry answered. "I need you to do something for me. Take this portkey. It will bring you to my home, but whatever you do, do not leave the room you arrive in. Amelia will find you there, and you need to tell her to fetch my potions bag. Go, now!"
Eleanor looked as though leaving was the last thing she wanted to do, but she reluctantly complied and vanished as soon as she grasped the portkey.
"That bad?" the other Harry asked.
"No, but I don't think she would approve of what I have to do. You have to trust me. Your heart is going to rupture, and we need a fresh supply of blood going into you before you bleed out. I have to release the pressure before I can undo the curse."
"Can you do it?"
Harry chuckled humourlessly.
"There's no other choice. You blocked the brunt of the curse, which is sometimes worse. If you hadn't, you'd be dead, but you wouldn't be about to endure what's about to happen. Now, shut up. I have to get to work."
"Is it going to hurt?"
Harry looked towards the sky and quickly covered them with his cloak to avoid being spotted by the group passing over on brooms.
"It's going to hurt for both of us," he sighed, sending Amelia a hasty patronus.
(Break)
Amelia approached the basement with a frown marring her features. She'd felt the disturbance of the protections around the home informing her of an arrival, but it was a woman's voice frantically calling for her.
Whoever it was had used Harry's portkey, and the only way it could've been used is if he had given it to them willingly.
Still, it was better to be cautious, given the current climate of Britain.
Before she reached the door to the basement, however, she was startled by the arrival of Harry's patronus.
'Stall her for around fifteen minutes. I'll explain everything when you get here.'
With her wand drawn, she pushed the door open to find a blonde who was around two decades older than her.
"Are you Amelia?" she asked in a state of panic.
Amelia nodded.
"Where is Harry?"
"He's with my husband. He sent me here to fetch his potions bag."
Amelia frowned and shook her head.
"Harry doesn't leave the house without it," she replied, her heart sinking at the implications.
Harry had not sent her to retrieve anything but to get her away from whatever he was doing.
"What's happened?" she asked.
The woman shook her head and Amelia took her gently by the arm.
"If your husband is with Harry, then he is in good hands. Come on, we will gather some things to take them."
Seeing the state of the woman, Amelia too was beginning to panic, but she knew she needed to keep a cool head as best she could.
"It's all my fault," the woman whispered.
"I'm sure that's not true."
The woman shook her head.
"It is," she whispered. "I thought I could help him, but I was caught."
"Caught?"
"Breaking into Gringotts in Paris."
Amelia paused and eyed the woman.
To even consider doing such a thing would denote a level of insanity most would never allow to cross their mind.
"You broke into Gringotts?" she pressed, just to be certain she had indeed heard what she thought.
The woman nodded.
"I used to do it all the time, but it's not the same as it was," she sighed. "I was caught this time, and my husband and your husband came to get me. Well, they did it, but my husband was cursed."
Amelia could only shake her head in disbelief as she did her utmost to remain calm.
"Do you know what spell hit him?"
What little composure the other woman had managed to maintain all but crumbled at the question, and Amelia caught her in her arms as she stumbled and began to sob uncontrollably.
She said nothing else for several minutes as she clung to Amelia, and the Auror allowed her to vent.
"I don't know," she eventually answered. "Something to do with his heart."
"Well, then maybe we should go to them," Amelia replied as she helped the woman to her feet. "I'm sorry, I don't even know your name."
"E-Eleanor," the other woman choked. "Eleanor Evans."
"Well, Eleanor, I'm Amelia Bones."
The smile she received in response was weak, and Amelia gently took the portkey from her hand, preparing herself for the scene that would greet them when they arrived.
Despite doing so, she felt her blood run cold as she saw Harry with a series of tubes connecting him to another man, one she recognised from Diagon Alley.
He offered her a reassuring smile, though both men looked quite deathly pale, and the other was covered in blood.
Somehow, he was still alive, and as Harry waved his wand over the man, he continued murmuring words Amelia didn't understand.
"He will be fine," her Harry croaked before draining a blood-replenishing potion and immediately uncorking another. "I had to relieve the pressure."
Stepping closer, Amelia could see the other Harry's exposed heart and understood what Jameson had done.
He'd connected them so that they were sharing blood flow, but it had all but depleted them both.
"Wait," he whispered as Amelia approached. "You can't disconnect us, not for a few hours at least. His heart needs to heal, and I expect I will need most of these," he explained, uncorking another red potion. "I just need you to make sure I keep drinking them."
Amelia swallowed deeply as she nodded her understanding.
It reminded her of the time in the cave when they'd been retrieving the Horcrux, though this somehow seemed worse.
"Can you cast some privacy charms around us?" Harry asked.
Amelia nodded and set to work, her gaze never leaving the two men.
"Wait," Eleanor whispered. "Nicholas lives not so far from here. Maybe he will be able to help. I'll fetch him."
She hurried away, leaving Amelia with the two Harrys, and Jameson released a deep breath.
"Thank you," he said appreciatively.
"Will he really make it?"
"I'm not dead yet," the other Harry chuckled.
"He'll live, just."
Amelia shook her head.
"You know, you're lucky I love you as much as I do, Harry," she sighed. "I can't think of anyone else who could put up with the stuff I do."
"Ah, I'm not so bad," the other Harry replied, a grin tugging at his lips.
"I wasn't talking to you."
"Well, my name is Harry."
"And I thought one of you was bad enough," Amelia grumbled.
(Break)
Sebastien cursed in his native tongue as he dragged himself from the debris, struggling for breath where the air had been torn from his lungs. As he looked towards what had once been the Parisian branch of Gringotts, a wave of nausea washed over him.
It was gone.
The entire bank was now little more than a pile of rubble and beneath it… He dared not think of the state of the vast underground system.
What had caused such devastation, he didn't know, but Sebastien was left in no doubt that what happened here would be felt across the entirety of France.
The fortunes of many were kept within the vaults, and he didn't know where to begin cleaning up this mess.
He wanted answers, and as he stalked towards the small group of gathered goblins who'd made it out of the bank alive, he glared at them.
"What the hell happened?" he demanded to know, coughing from the dust he'd inhaled.
The goblins began muttering amongst themselves in their own language before returning the glare.
"Humans," one of them spat. "It was your kind that did this!"
Sebastien shook his head.
"Why?"
The goblins shared a look of discomfort.
"WHY?" Sebastien pressed.
(Break)
It wasn't the sudden arrival of Eleanor that had woken him and Perenelle, but the sudden trembling of the ground beneath their home in the early hours of the morning.
Nicholas had perhaps thought that it was an earthquake, but the news was evidently worse.
Eleanor was beside herself with worry when she'd arrived and all but pleaded with them to follow her to where the injured Harry was.
Without hesitation, they'd done so, and as they came upon the scene of the two young men and a concerned redheaded woman, Nicholas gasped at what he was witnessing.
Were it not for the similarities between the two men, what they were doing would likely kill them both as the foreign magic invaded one another.
That was why the blood-replenishing potion had been such a significant breakthrough.
The sharing of blood between magicals had long been ill-advised.
Nonetheless, despite his concerns, save for being clearly exhausted, both Harrys seemed to be doing well.
Nicholas murmured a curse as he kneeled beside the two men to check on them.
The Harry he knew so well had lost so much of his own blood that it was quite the miracle in itself that he was alive, though that was likely only due to the man who'd implemented the risky treatment.
"How are you both feeling?" Nicholas asked.
"Wonderful," the wounded Harry snorted. "I'd highly recommend having your heart sliced open and being pumped full of someone else's blood."
"I see your sense of humour remains intact," Nicholas sighed.
"Stupid boy," Perenelle huffed, keeping her distance.
Nicholas shook his head.
"Do you understand what you have done?" he asked the other Harry.
"Not entirely, but I suspect this isn't exactly a standard procedure."
"Not among magicals," Nicholas replied. "Tell me, have you ever studied Alchemy?"
"No, I can't say it really interested me, not after studying potions under Snape."
"Git," the wounded Harry muttered.
"Well, what you are doing goes against the laws of the study," Nicholas explained. "Alchemy is very much a contested art, but all who study would agree that this is quite foolish or would be if your situation wasn't so unique. I cannot fathom what impact this will have on you both. Perhaps nothing will happen, but that remains to be seen."
"Great," the other Harry muttered sarcastically. "Well, if I didn't do it, he'd be dead."
"He would," Nicholas agreed. "Despite what happens, you did the right thing, and I am grateful for it. How long until he can be moved?"
"A couple of hours yet. When his heart is beating properly on its own, I can close him back up."
Nicholas nodded his understanding.
"Then perhaps you should take the ladies back home, Perenelle," Nicholas suggested. "I suppose the two of you were responsible for the disturbance we felt."
"We might have blown up Gringotts," the younger Harry explained.
"You blew up Gringotts?" the redheaded woman interjected. "Of course you did. What else would you be doing in Paris other than blowing up Gringotts."
"I gather that this is quite normal behaviour?" Nicholas chuckled.
The woman nodded.
"I've known him for the better part of seven years now, and blowing up a bank is probably one of the more tame things he's done."
The younger Harry grinned as he nodded.
"You're not wrong," he agreed proudly.
"He has the same stupid grin," Eleanor commented. "My Harry does the same thing. The problem is, it's difficult to stay mad at him, especially when he does the things he do. Thank you, for coming for me."
Nicholas did not approve of what Eleanor had done.
She'd briefly explained why Harry was in such a poor state and the alchemist had no doubt the woman would get quite the earful from Perenelle.
"Go on, go home," he sighed. "We will join you when Harry can be moved. I suppose I will have several tests to run on the two of you to make sure you've not cursed one another or somehow done something even more stupid."