Parlay
Gringotts Closed Until Further Notice!
By Algernon Small
Rumours are abound as to what transpired at the wizarding bank in Diagon Alley a little over twenty-four hours ago, and with no answers forthcoming, we are left to speculate.
Witnesses claim that, a little after midnight on Friday morning, a dragon was seen breaking out of the bank, before taking flight, and leaving a path of destruction in its wake.
When approached for questioning, a goblin representative had this to say:
"At this time, we wish only to reassure the members of the public that their gold and other valuables remain safe. As to the incident, we will not be commenting further until a full investigation has been made. Needless to say, the bank will be closed to all until further notice. Any attempting to enter our premises will be turned away by any means at our disposal."
With the public remaining in the dark as to what has spurred such caution, we can only wait for further word from the goblins themselves.
Albus frown as he folded the newspaper up.
He was one of very few who knew what had truly happened that night, and the outlook on wizard/goblin relations was a rather bleak one.
Tom had killed dozens of them in retaliation of what had befallen Bellatrix, and it would be some time before any salve could begin healing the wound between man and creature.
Not that the goblins would rebel.
They had learned from such folly over the centuries and knew that doing so would only lead to further unpleasantness, and a much worse position than they'd found themselves in after they'd been defeated the last time they'd taken up arms.
No, they had been left without the means of doing so, their breeding regulated, and the weapons they were allowed to bear being wholly inadequate.
Even so, reparations must be paid, but until Tom was defeated, no such thing would be done.
Albus understood that the Horcrux needed to be retrieved, and that doing so was never going to be done without consequence, but Britain, for now, would be worse off for it.
He released a deep sigh as he leaned back in his chair.
He'd only shared a brief conversation with Harry the previous day, but the young man had informed him that soon enough, he would be ready to put an end to the war, that he now had everything he needed to do so, and the Tom Riddle would be a thing of the past.
The headmaster had been unable to glean little else, but he had no reason not to believe Harry.
Somehow, the man seemed lighter, like a heavy burden had been lifted, and with only one of the unpleasant soul containers left to destroy, Albus did too, though he knew that the aftermath and righting the wrongs of the conflict would not be so simple.
Rufus would certainly have his work cut out for him, if he still wished to be Minister, a position that Albus would certainly not envy.
"Come in, Draco," the headmaster called as a knock sounded at the door to his office.
He had been relieved that the young man had been more successful than he'd expected in retrieving his mother, but both he and Narcissa had been forlorn shortly arrived they'd arrived.
Lucius, much to Albus's surprise, had decided to leave with them, and he could only imagine the man had decided to do so because Tom had discovered his misuse of the diary he'd been given to protect, or was on the cusp of doing so.
Regardless, Lucius would only have left if he was truly in imminent danger.
Outside of his master's protection, there was nothing for him other than the last of his years being spent imprisoned.
"You are well, Draco?" he enquired.
Draco shrugged as he took the seat on the opposite side of the desk.
"I'm still trying to figure it all-out," he murmured. "Mother is not coping so well not knowing what happened to father, and she won't accept that he is dead. He is. I can feel it."
"These things take time, Draco," Albus offered comfortingly. "It all seems overwhelming and impossible to navigate, but you will work it out, and I will help you as much as I can with whatever you need."
Draco nodded.
"Crouch," he sighed. "Crouch was the one who was here during the tournament. He's the one who killed Moody and put Potter's name in the goblet. I didn't know then, but I heard him talking about it. He's insane."
"Barty Crouch?" Albus asked confusedly.
"Junior. His son. I don't know how, but he was taken out of Azkaban, and the Dark Lord found him being kept under the Imperius Curse by his father."
Albus frowned at the revelation.
Barty's sudden death had been more than a little suspicious, but he had merely attributed it to Tom.
What had transpired during the tournament until Harry had disappeared had remained a mystery, much to his frustration. Learning of Barty Crouch Jr's involvement was most troubling.
Albus remembered the youthful man who'd been sentenced to life in Azkaban by his own father, and like most others, believed him to have perished shortly after.
"Thank you for telling me, Draco."
The blond nodded as he stood.
"Do you really think Potter can win?" he asked.
"I do," Albus answered honestly. "It will happen soon, Draco, and I hope that you and your mother can find a semblance of peace from it. Of course, you are both welcome to stay within the castle as long as necessary."
Draco nodded before taking his leave of the office.
He was undoubtedly in mourning for his father, but likely relieved that much of his personal ordeal was over.
Albus too felt somewhat relieved, but no less troubled by what was yet to come; more violence, more death, all from a desperate Dark Lord who would now feel truly vulnerable without his Horcruxes to save him.
Getting to the last would be all but impossible now, if indeed Harry remained as ignorant as Albus to what it was.
The headmaster, however, was not so sure. But he did not doubt Harry's proclivity of finding out what he needed.
The young man was as cunning and resourceful as any Albus had met, and yet, he could only be pleased for it.
Without him, the war would be far from over, and perhaps never would be concluded in a suitable manner that would finally see to the much-needed end of Lord Voldemort.
(Break)
As it had been with the diadem, it was with a sense of sadness and reluctance that Harry destroyed Helga's, the scream of protest from the contained soul piece reminding him just how close he was to finally being rid of the Dark Lord that had plagued him.
"Just the snake left," he murmured.
"The snake?"
Harry nodded darkly, he eyes narrowing as Wormtail's final moments played over in his mind.
"Harry, please, your mother and father wouldn't…"
Pettigrew whimpered as Harry struck him with the back of his hands.
"You will not mention them again," he warned. "You have no right to speak of them after what you did."
Pettigrew swallowed deeply as Harry retrieved the oddly green potion from within his robes and held it up to the light to inspect it.
Nodding to himself, he seized the man by the throat before forcing him to drink it. Wormtail fought him, but to no avail, and as the last drop vanished from the phial, he screamed and collapsed to the ground.
"No," he whimpered. "No, it wasn't me."
Harry didn't know what the man was seeing, but it was causing him considerable distress.
He knew the concoction wouldn't be lethal, at the very least.
Riddle would want the drinker to live, to learn how it was they had discovered the hiding place of one of his Horcruxes before he killed them. Still, that didn't mean he wouldn't want the person to suffer, and as he watched Wormtail continue to plead for mercy, he relished every last plea that passed his lips.
"Water," he groaned. "Please…water."
For how long the man had suffered under the effects of the potion, Harry didn't know.
He'd been lost in his own enjoyment, but seeing that it was wearing off, he drew his wand and aimed a torrent of water towards the man who'd betrayed his parents.
Peter said nothing.
He trembled upon the ground, soaked through, weakened, and his eyes wide with fear.
"You can thank your master for that one, Peter," Harry murmured as he conjured a chair and took a seat. "Now, let us see what you have in that foolish mind of yours, shall we? It would be better for you if you didn't fight back."
Harry met little resistance as he delved into the man's memories, his nostrils flaring as he discovered how the coward had found himself in the services of the Dark Lord, how he had informed on several members of the Order of the Phoenix, resulting in their deaths, and how he'd so willingly betrayed James and Lily Potter.
Wormtail regretted none of his actions, only that he had eventually been caught.
It was when he discovered the more recent memories that Harry took his time to digest them.
He watched as Peter murdered a woman, Bertha, and how Riddle had inhabited the body of a babe before completing a ritual to acquire the one he had now.
'You will bring Nagini to me…'
Harry could feel the revulsion Peter had felt as the odd serpent had slithered into the room.
He had never seen such a snake, nor how it acted.
Harry doubted Wormtail could see or sense it himself, but this was no mere serpent. No, it was something else entirely.
"Are you ready?" Riddle hissed. "I may not be able to make you human again, but I can give you something just as precious. Wormtail, do you have it?"
Pettigrew nodded, trembling as he handed Riddle a bag containing ingredients he'd obtained at the man's request, some of them rather odd, though no more so than the list he'd been given for the ritual to be completed.
"Leave us!" the Dark Lord snapped.
Peter was clueless to what Riddle had done, but Harry knew. He could feel it in the air as the rat cowered outside the door to the room he'd been banished from.
He would not be thanking Wormtail for his intrusion, but because of the man, he finally knew what the last of the Horcruxes was.
Withdrawing from the man's mind, he chuckled humourlessly to himself.
"It seems you were useful, Peter," he murmured as he crouched beside him, "but it is not enough to spare you. No, the next several moments are going to be miserable for you, but justice for those that were murdered because of you. Don't cry, Wormtail, this will be no less than you deserve."
Harry wouldn't pretend that he'd not extracted every last drop of satisfaction from what he'd done.
Pettigrew had deserved to suffer every moment of pain and suffering he'd endured before Harry realised that it would never be enough to remove the bitter taste of betrayal from his mouth.
Still, the man would be granted no peace, and Harry hoped beyond hope that those he had been responsible for the deaths of would be waiting for him on the other side.
He hoped that Death himself would ensure the man's eternal suffering for all he had done in his life.
"It will not be so easy to get to her," Morgana sighed.
"It won't," Harry agreed, "but it doesn't matter, not really. Even if Riddle dies before the snake and she manages to escape, there is nothing she can do. That small part of his soul will die when she does. Using a live vessel is damned stupid."
Morgana nodded her agreement.
"I can almost smell the air of home," she murmured longingly.
The very thought brought a smile to Harry's lips.
"Me too, but there is more to do yet."
"You have a plan."
"The beginnings of one, at least," Harry mused aloud. "I think we need to take the Ministry back, and for that, I need to speak with Amelia. Tom will be reluctant to act against anything with him being so vulnerable. We need to make him feel trapped. He is without Bellatrix, and we can continue to thin his numbers. The end is near, I can feel it."
"Then we can return home."
"We can return home," Harry readily agreed, "but first, we have to make this final push."
Morgana nodded and wrapped her arms around Harry's neck.
"Then let us do it," she urged. "Let's finish this and go home."
Harry smiled.
Idly, his thoughts drifted to those waiting for their return, to the remaining three Founders, to Owain and Ignotus, and even to Arthur.
Inevitably, they drifted to Myrddin, reminding him that the wars were not over yet, but for now, he did not wish to ponder the man, not when he was so close to finishing this chapter of his life.
No, Myrddin was for another dark day ahead of him.
Until he needed to, Harry would pay him no mind, not when Riddle yet lived, even if it wasn't for much longer.
(Break)
He looked upon the corpse of the man, his warring emotions giving nothing away in his expression. Lucius was indeed dead, as was Bellatrix, and Wormtail had not returned from his own venture into Hogwarts.
The Dark Lord could not help but think that somehow, each of these incidents had been orchestrated almost perfectly, or perhaps he had simply been the victim of a considerably terrible wave of misfortune.
Bellatrix had breathed her last after attending Gringotts at his behest.
His fury had been palpable, and he had unleashed it upon the goblins that had taken his most loyal follower from him.
Much to the Dark Lord's chagrin, however, he had been unable to enter the bank beyond the grand entrance hall and exact a worthy revenge upon them, but many had fallen to his wand.
He was yet to learn the fate of the rat.
Pettigrew had either fled like the coward he was, or he'd been captured whilst attempting to retrieve the Horcrux, which meant he would remain clueless as to whether or not it remained where he'd left it.
Lord Voldemort suspected that, like both Bellatrix and Lucius, the man was lying dead somewhere.
All three fates of his followers were most troubling.
Without knowing what had happened to the cup, the diary nor the diadem, he had to assume that only Nagini was left to him, and he felt his temper flaring once more.
"He was attempting to flee, my lord," Barty murmured. "The boy and Narcissa did so before I could stop them."
The Dark Lord's jaw tightened at the mere sound of Crouch's voice.
He had specifically instructed the damned fool not to kill Lucius, but to detain him if he sought to use his absence as an opportunity to abscond.
Barty had failed, and as Lord Voldemort flicked his wand into his hand, his follower's eyes widened.
"My lord, no, please…"
He unleashed a guttural roar to temper his rising anger, to no avail.
Barty screamed as untold pain and misery was exacted upon him.
The Dark Lord subjected him to it for several moments, and yet, he remained unsatisfied and his anger unabated.
With his nostrils flaring, he turned on his heel and stormed from the foyer of the Malfoy home, leaving behind a whimpering yet alive Barty Crouch Jr, and a very much dead Lucius Malfoy, who had perished as the only man who knew the fate of one of his most precious possessions, which was now seemingly lost to him.
The cup…the diary…the diadem…the ring…the locket
He knew nothing of what had become of each, and though he still had Nagini close by, the Dark Lord had never felt as vulnerable to death as he did now.
(Break)
She was unsure if she could believe what it was she had heard, and having spent the better part of thirty-six hours trawling the most unpleasant establishments in Knockturn Alley, she wasn't sure if she was so sleep-deprived that she was somehow experiencing a surreal waking dream.
"Dead?" Bones pressed. "Are you certain?"
Tonks nodded tiredly.
"According to several people in different bars, Bellatrix was killed at Gringotts."
Bones leaned back in her chair.
"Perhaps that is what he wishes to discuss with me," she mused aloud, reading a short missive before throwing it into the fireplace nearby. "If she is dead…"
"It is quite the blow against him," Tonks sighed.
"You do not seem pleased."
"I am," Tonks assured the woman, "but she was still my mother's sister."
Bones nodded her understanding.
"I often forget that," she sighed. "Well, I am sorry for your mother's loss, but there will be few who will mourn her passing."
"I won't," Tonks murmured, "but I had better tell her. She should know what happened."
"Then do so, Auror Tonks, and pass on my condolences. Before you go, I would have you get a note to Potter for me."
Tonks nodded and waited for her superior to pen the letter, pocketing it as it was handed to her before leaving the home Amelia had been placed in for her own safety.
There was indeed a change in the air, almost a feeling of hope in the gloom that had descended upon Britain so many months prior, and though Tonks was lamenting the prospect of telling her mother that her sister had perished, such an occurrence could only be good for wizarding Britain.
There was seemingly now something of a silver lining to the dark clouds hovering over them, but she knew they were not quite clear of the storm yet.
Still, any slither of hope was welcome, and it brought with it the possibility that maybe, just maybe, Britain was not quite doomed to the whims and misery Voldemort had unleashed upon them all.
(Break)
He looked towards the moon briefly before his gaze shifted back to the gently flowing river. It was peaceful here, and it had been peaceful in Britain for several passing phases now.
Of course, there had been minor conflicts up and down the country, but according to the few that came through Godric's Hollow to trade or cross the sea, Arthur was settling the disputes as a strong king should.
Even so, Ignotus knew such peace was not to last.
There were rumblings in the distance of fallout amongst the goblins, and there were those that remained that would see the end of the king that had united the country.
For Ignotus, however, when he came here, his thoughts drifted only to those that were missing, and as he looked upon the humble home Morgana had built for her and her husband, he only missed them all the more.
Often, he found himself wondering what Harry had been doing in his absence, wondered if he'd managed to kill the Dark Lord that had taken his parents from him.
The man had promised he'd return to them when it was done, and though Ignotus did not doubt him, so long had passed since the man had been among the people here.
Still, not a day went by that there wasn't mention of him.
Those too young to remember the man would ask for stories of Harry's exploits, of how he'd felled a dragon, and how it was him who had undeniably built the throne that Arthur now sat upon.
Those who did remember him spoke with fondness, spoke of a man who had fought off the Irish for them, ensured they maintained their autonomy, and who had kept them free from the clutches of others who would see them subjugated to the whims of one king or another.
Throughout all of this, Ignotus waited for his kin to return, and with each passing day, he could sense that time drawing closer.
It was not the feeling of Harry himself, but of Death, but the Lord Peverell knew the former would come before the latter.
"It is not your time yet, old friend," he murmured. "Soon, I expect, but not just now."
As he spoke, he could feel the clammy hand of his greatest foe retreat just a little from his shoulder, but it remained close enough to remind Ignotus that his time was almost done.
Soon enough, he would be reunited with his wife, but not until the lands were once more protected by Harry Potter.
"Father, you will catch your death out here."
Ignotus chuckled amusedly as he stood to greet his son.
"There is no escape from Death, Owain. Whether it is here or in my bed, he will come for me."
"But not today."
"Not today, lad," Ignotus agreed, "not until…"
"Harry returns."
Ignotus nodded.
"Soon."
"Soon?"
"He will be back with us soon."
(Break)
Bones eyed him curiously as he entered the room.
Harry suspected she spent much of her time here, directing the Aurors and keeping herself in the know of what was transpiring around Britain, as frustrating as it would be for the woman.
She was not one to shy away from the less pleasant aspects of the war, but she would always be in danger whilst Riddle lived, and the efforts to bring him down would be much worse off.
He knew it wounded her pride to exclude herself for much of it but was equally grateful she understood the necessity.
If Harry had faith in anyone to assume control of the Ministry of Magic when it was taken back, it was the woman sitting in front of him.
"I hear rumours that Bellatrix Lestrange is dead," Bones said interestedly.
"I cannot confirm it, but I expect it to be true. She was certainly in Gringotts when issues arose, and I have it on good authority that she found herself at odds with the goblins."
"On good authority?"
"My wife," Harry said with a shrug. "She was waiting for Bellatrix to surface to retrieve something. She succeeded."
Bones nodded and leaned back in her chair, choosing not to press the matter further.
"You feel that you are close in putting an end to this."
"I do, and I think the time has come for us to take the Ministry back. Riddle won't interfere. He has more important things keeping him occupied. I am happy to do all the necessary work to do so, but I think it would look better if it were to be the Auror force to be seen taking it back. It would certainly put a strong case forward for whoever wished to be the next Minister of Magic."
"Rufus will be pleased."
Harry shook his head.
"I mean you. Make him your replacement if you wish, but it should be you who takes the helm, Madam Bones. You are needed more to heal the country. There is no other I can think of as highly respected as you."
Amelia seemed to be taken aback by his ringing endorsement.
"But Rufus…"
"Might be a good leader," Harry interjected, "but I know for certain that you will be. Anyway, it is not as though it needs to be decided this very moment. I just need your agreement and we can come up with a plan to take back the Ministry. Now is the time to strike back against him."
"And if he is there?"
"I will kill him."
Bones nodded thoughtfully.
"Very well," she agreed, "but I will be there for this. I will lead the Aurors, Albus his own group, and you…"
"My wife. Well, I wouldn't say lead," he added amusedly. "We will both be there, and I would suggest you allow us to enter first to rid the building of the protections, quietly."
Amelia hummed.
Harry knew she would agree.
Only a damned fool would attempt to storm the Ministry as it stood, not knowing exactly what measures had been put in place by the Dark Lord.
"Of course," Amelia eventually spoke, pouring them both a generous measure of Firewhiskey from a nearby table before raising her glass. "To victory?"
"To victory," Harry murmured, the sweet sensation of returning home becoming only sweeter.
He could almost see their small home in the forest and feel the heat from the fire within. Harry longed for it so, and though it was so far away still, he had not felt so close to it since they'd arrived here.
(Break)
"I suppose I should be relieved," her mother sighed as she peered out of the window into the street below Grimmauld Place. "I've spent these past months terrified that she would either come across you or your father. As much as I remember her from our childhood, she made her choices long ago."
"She did," Nymphadora agreed quietly.
Her mother gave her hand a squeeze.
"I appreciate you telling me, Nymphadora. Bella's life could have only ended this way, and as callous as it might sound, I would rather it was her than you or your father. I warned her. I told her that throwing her lot in with him would be the death of her. Does Cissy know?"
"I do not think so. According to Albus, she's not left her rooms at the castle."
It had come as quite the surprise to learn that her sister had chosen to leave the lavish home she'd spent the better part of two decades in, and even more so that Lucius had seemingly sacrificed himself to save his wife and son. The man had always been selfish and self-serving, but Narcissa had loved him, nonetheless.
Losing her husband and the one sister she cared for would be quite the blow, but Andromeda felt it right to be the one to tell her.
Sirius lacked any subtlety and would take no small amount of glee in informing her.
Andromeda might not be sorry for either loss, but she would not feel the need to gloat, even if Narcissa did deserve it.
She'd been warned of Lucius's ambitions and loyalty to the Dark Lord before she'd married him and had done so regardless.
"Are you okay, mum?"
Andromeda offered her daughter a sad smile.
"As far as I am concerned, Bella died almost two decades ago. It's nothing short of a miracle she survived this long, and I expect she only did because of the years in Azkaban. Could you arrange it with Dumbledore that I visit Hogwarts?"
Nymphadora nodded.
"I can, but you're not going alone. I'll come with you."
Andromeda did not argue.
She did not expect a warm reception from her sister, but it wouldn't come to blows. Narcissa had always been affable, for the most part, something the rest of the family attributed to her being one of the few blondes born to the Blacks.
Not that such a thing mattered.
With all that had befallen her recently, she expected little more than tears from her younger sibling.
Andromeda would shed none for Bella.
She had fond memories from when they'd been foolish teenagers, before the girl had become enamoured with Voldemort, but those memories had been soured with the threats of death the woman had made towards Ted and Nymphadora.
No, Andromeda had already mourned, and the passing of her sister was little more than a formality, but as a Black, it was only right that it was her to break the news to the already devastated Narcissa.
"I will send a message to Albus," Nymphadora explained before taking her leave of the room.
"Are you sure you're alright?" Ted asked as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
He had remained silent during the conversation, and Andromeda nodded.
"I'm fine," she sighed. "It just feels as though it is all coming full circle now. I have you back, and with Bella and Lucius gone, he's all the weaker for it. I expect Potter is foaming at the mouth to get to him now."
"I expect so," Ted agreed. "Maybe soon enough we can go home. We can even have Sirius over for dinner."
Andromeda rolled her eyes at her husband.
She was pleased to see that he and Sirius were getting along.
They always had before Halloween of 1981 and learning that her cousin was innocent of all he'd been accused of had been quite the welcome revelation.
Despite being disowned by the rest of the family, save for Dorea, Sirius had been there for her in her darkest moments, and learning he had joined the Dark Lord had come as a heavy blow to her.
Andromeda should've known better, but all the evidence had pointed to him being guilty.
She released a deep sigh as she shook her head.
Somehow, despite all that had befallen her family, she'd found her happiness with her husband and daughter, and though she did not relish seeing her younger sister again, she was hopeful life would soon go back to normal, well, whatever normal would be for her now.
(Break)
Harry watched as the group of workers passed him in silence, none of them speaking, and each sporting a look of concern as they went about their business.
He suspected most had only returned to work out of fear, and that they likely had no choice.
Men and women had families to feed, and so long as they had no provoked the ire of the Dark Lord, they saw no reason not to continue on as usual.
Harry did not agree with them, but he understood.
Most were not equipped to offer resistance, and even those that were would be reluctant to do so from fear of putting their loved ones at risk. It was a weapon Tom had used effectively, but it meant he'd had to make concessions with his protections.
The Minister's office, and any other place of import had been secured, were guarded, and off limits to most, but in a way, it helped Harry to identify the places that would need to be taken first.
Between him and Morgana, he was certain of their success, but his plan undoubtedly came with risks.
There was dozens of Death Eaters here, and if they had any hope of reclaiming the Ministry from the Dark Lord, they would need to use all of their cunning and guile.
Taking a mental note of a particularly large group exiting the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, he moved on to the floor above.
From what he could gather, the Department of Mysteries had been locked down to all, which meant that not even Voldemort could access it. Even so, guards had been placed there, likely to find a way in, or watch for any of the Unspeakables to arrive to gain entry.
Harry was not convinced they would, not until the war was over.
From what he had seen in there the night he and Morgana had arrived, they would do all they could to keep the Dark Lord out, and Riddle probably could not fathom the protections they might put in place.
He would not risk his life, or his position within the Ministry itself to access it.
Not yet, at least.
"Twenty-eight," Harry mouthed as he counted the guards patrolling the fourth floor.
With his tallying complete, he carefully began navigating his way back to the atrium, where he and Morgana were to meet before returning to Grimmauld Place.
With an accurate accounting of what it was they faced, they needed to plan accordingly, but he had no doubt that the Ministry would soon be out of Riddle's hands.
From there, he would need to find a way to lure the man out; not an easy feat, but a necessary won to put an end to the war once and for all.
(Break)
It was as though he didn't know the mourning woman, and in truth, he didn't, not really. Draco remembered when he'd been little more than a careless boy toddling around the manor that it had been his mother who had cared for him, fed him, and even taught him the basics of reading and such.
That had changed rather suddenly when his father had become his role model.
Before he knew it, he'd been sent away to Hogwarts for schooling, and though he had returned home at every possibility, he'd seldom spent time with the woman that had birthed him.
She had been silent for much of the time since they'd arrived at the castle, undoubtedly mourning her husband, and now her sister.
Draco had never met his aunt Andromeda, and when he'd first laid eyes on her, he thought that somehow Bellatrix had gotten to them.
The resemblance was uncanny, but Andromeda, though frosty towards them both, seemed sane enough, even if she had brought further news that had upset his mother.
Bellatrix was dead, and somehow, Draco was relieved for it.
Of course, he'd not voiced such to his mother, and was doing his utmost to comfort her, but he felt his efforts were for nothing.
She had been crying silently for several hours now, and he was at a loss as to what he could do.
Time.
He knew she needed time, and he vaguely remembered that she enjoyed green tea. He had requested some from the kitchens for her, and as he placed it into her hands, she offered him a weak, watery smile.
"It will be okay," he offered comfortingly. "I will make sure it is."
She took his hand in one of her own and squeezed it.
"I hope so, Draco," she murmured. "You know, if Potter wins, none of this will be easy for you."
Draco nodded.
"Well, I recently learned that anything worth having isn't easy," he sighed. "Until I saw you, I wasn't sure I'd be able to get you out of there."
"But you did."
"I did," Draco reaffirmed for the sake of both of them. "Father…"
He broke off.
"I love him, but he did himself no favours, not that he had much of a choice. Even the decisions he made when he was around my age followed him, and when he returned, there was no other path but to follow him again. He would've been killed if he hadn't."
"He would."
"I won't make the same mistakes. When he is gone, I have to find a way to make all of this right. I don't know how I will do it, but I will."
His mother nodded and squeezed his hand encouragingly.
"You know, there might just be a bit of Black in you yet. My family has needed to make overtures over the years, and although their reputation never fully recovered, they were always respected."
"My name isn't Black," Draco pointed out, "but I can redeem the one I carry., well, I hope to."
"I'm sure you will, Draco," his mother said reassuringly.
Draco wasn't so sure, but he knew he needed to be better, needed to not be like the man who had shaped him in his own image.
It would not be easy, but having endured what he had all these months, he knew he had to at least try.
(Break)
Her own foray into the Ministry of Magic had been as successful as Harry's. It was odd to simply be on a scouting mission, and after what had happened in Gringotts, Morgana was relieved it had gone without incident.
Escaping what many considered to be the most secure building in Britain atop a dragon whilst having spells hurled at her from a deranged woman was not how she'd intended for the night to end, but she'd made it out, and that was all that mattered.
"I think this will work," Harry said thoughtfully. "It's almost unavoidable that we will trigger some of the protections, but so long as it is only the alarms, it doesn't matter. Bones and Albus can have the others waiting to enter. A large-scale battle is not desirable, but it is inevitable."
Morgana nodded her agreement.
The protections were indeed extensive, but most could be nullified, especially by Harry when it came to those created by parselmagic.
"Are you waiting for a letter?" she asked with a frown as an owl appeared at the window.
Harry shook his head as he opened it to retrieve the missive, pausing as he did so.
"It's from Gringotts," he murmured.
"Gringotts? Do you think they know I was there?"
Harry said nothing as he opened the letter and read it, chuckling humourlessly.
"It is an invitation for a parlay," he explained. "They are quite upset with what happened, and as I am, in their words, the man leading the charge in the fight against the Dark Lord, they wish to meet with me."
"Do you not think it could be a trap?"
Harry shrugged.
"If they wish to meet, they will do so on my terms. I will invite only three of them to Hogwarts and see if they agree. Albus can be there with me."
Morgana nodded.
It wasn't as though they would agree to such if they weren't sincere in their sentiment, but it was an odd development.
The goblins were notoriously autonomous from humans, save for completing their banking, and Morgana was not so sure they could be trusted.
Judging by Harry's expression, he didn't seem to think so either.
He hummed to himself thoughtfully before laughing.
"It's ironic, really. Here they are reaching out to me, and yet, when we return home, I will likely find myself at war with them."
Morgana couldn't agree more.
It was a strange occurrence, but no stranger than the war had been as a whole.
Still, she was certain it would soon reach its climax, and when all was said and done, she and Harry could finally return home, where they belonged.