Chapter 13: Katara's Interlude
Notes:
in which my atla obsession runs wild and free
Chapter Text
Healer Katara Blood-Bender of the Southern Water Tribes had healed many in her long years at the London Branch of the Gringotts Bank.
Tellers that had been injured by foul wix who could not take "no" for an answer; Trolley-Steerers that had taken a tumble after a sharp turn or after part of the railroad collapsed due to the lack of maintenance amongst the Inbreed Pureblood's Vaults; Warriors and Cursebreakers alike, that had returned from their jobs with mangled appendages, or with splintered bodies and minds, or with powerful curses attached to their magic and blood.
She had seen much.
She had never had such a cooperative patient as young Heir Potter was, though. Nor such an extreme case.
The poor boy had gone through unimaginable pain, through horrors that would have killed much older and more expert wizards, through suffering and abuse he should not have even known of, yet he kept a wide smile and a somewhat optimistic view of life and had not turned into an Obscurial. If she had been in his shoes, she would have razed the entire world to the ground, or at the very least levelled his relatives' house. Instead, he chose to pursue his own happiness and safety, leaving the punishment to the Goblin Nation and to the proper channels of the government. He didn't even consider his due retribution, he merely wished to never see them again.
And, if she had her way, he never would.
He truly was a marvel, just as General Longsword Silverfang had commented before leaving her infirmary, to deal with his end of business.
And, finally, after three riveting days spent at his bedside, working relentlessly to mend bones and restore organs to their original standard and cleanse his magic of the shackles that had been placed upon him by a meddling old fool, she had healed him completely.
He would need a strict regimen of diet and potions to replenish what had been starved by cruelty, and he would need a severely updated prescription for his glasses, and he might even need some counselling for the trauma he had suffered, and he would definitely need to find a way to tame his hair, since the curly mop appeared to have a mind of its own and resisted all treatments, but overall he was finally safe and sound.
It was some of her best work, if she said so herself, and certainly what she would be most proud of, when the time came for her to leave the Mortal Realm.
Now the "hard" part could truly begin.
Ensuring the safety of the young boy to her most trusted Aid and sure that he would not wake up before the morning, at the very least, she left her Infirmary, changing out of her white coat and donning her chainmail. Even if her part was that of a spectator, it was always good form to be prepared for the worst.
"You look as if you have not slept in a week, sister," her brother, Warrior Sokka Meteorsword of the Southern Water Tribes, commented as he entered her private office. He discarded his messenger bag to the nearest chair and put on his own armour, passing her the colours of their Tribe.
It felt good to have him back by her side, she acknowledged internally as she braided her hair. Not that she would admit it out loud, his ego was already enormous as it was and did not need stroking.
"I could say the same about you, brother," she fired back once she was prepared, sending a quick monitoring spell to check his vitals as he tied his wolf tail. She trusted the Healers that accompanied the cursebreakers and warriors' expeditions, she had trained many of the young goblins that were stationed all over the world, but she enjoyed checking herself, to make sure her loved ones were alright.
Her own husband always lamented that she would greet his medical chart before greeting him, once he returned home from his expeditions as a cursebreaker, yet his words never had heat behind them.
Both Aang and Sokka knew that it made her feel better, so their complaints were useless.
"Well, jetlag is not something only muggles experience. I have arrived just now from Toshima, so I am allowed to look a bit raggedy," Sokka exclaimed, trying to appeal to her sympathies. Which he would have, completely, if she didn't know that he had returned to England the day before, and therefore was able to give his body the rest it needed after his journey.
Still, if he did not wish to acknowledge his itinerary, or his stop at the home of a certain fiery friend, who was she to reveal her sources.
"I hope not too much," she said instead, eyeing him casually and smirking at his reddening face, "Especially considering what is at stake."
Not that she believed that, even if he truly was completely unsteady, he would not be able to perform his duties.
It painted her immensely to admit it, but Sokka was one of the best Warriors the Gringotts Bank had at their disposal. He was an excellent tracker, an accomplished strategist, an innovative engineer, and a more than adequate cursebreaker. There was no one else Katara would have rather had by her side when dealing with Black Magic, with the exception of her husband, who was already three levels down, drawing the circles on the floor they would need for the cleansing ritual.
Sokka would have done well in the military, his path of rising amongst the ranks would have been crystal clear, had he decided to purse that route. But he chose the freedom to travel the world instead, finding treasures and destroying anything that could off-set the natural order of the world.
And, for that, even if he was her idiot older brother and a major pain most of the time, she was much grateful.
It was thanks to him that she had met her husband, after all.
"Do not fret, sister," he said, tossing an arm over her shoulder in the way he knew she secretly enjoyed, "Today it's Aang's day, I will simply assist. And by the morrow, we'll both get to tracking the cursed objects, however many there are."
"Do you believe that necessary?"
It was an insane concept, the one to fracture one's soul, magic and mind, simply to achieve longevity. And, to have it repeated more than once, was downright stupid. Yet here they were, on the cusp of knowing how many artifact the so-called "Dark Lord Voldemort" had corrupted.
She hoped there would not be too many, out there in the world.
Sokka didn't seem to share her idea, in fact seemed almost eager to hunt them all down. It made sense, given his line of work.
"The curse on Heir Potter is fractured and incomplete, which means it was most accidental, leading me to believe that there is at least a previous one. Which we found and we will use to our advantage," he explained calmly, but she could see the excited gleam in his eyes as she spoke about the prospect, "And I firmly believe an asshole who calls himself "Flight From Death" in a language he doesn't even speak will have most likely have made many more, perhaps bastardizing prized items. Our plan will start with interviewing wixen, to see if those who knew him before his descent into madness have an inkling on the rest, once we confirm that there are, indeed, more."
He and Aang had coordinated it all through their Communication Mirrors as soon as she had shared the knowledge of the failed Horcrux residing in young Harry's scar. They had meticulously planned the ritual to remove the fragment and had immediately started a Gringotts wide search in the vaults of the known Death Eaters, searching for Dark Objects that might have been left there when they were abruptly arrested at the end of the War.
It pained the Goblin Nation to admit having harboured an Horcrux in one of the Lestrange's Vaults, but the Cup of Helga Hufflepuff was now in a secluded and fortified chest, ready to be used.
If anything, the presence of the cursed object meant that the Vault would be forfeited and their contents audited, and either returned to the original owners or distributed amongst the Goblins responsible for the discovery, which was not a bad outcome.
Bellatrix Lestrange's Vault did have quite the amount of galleons and treasures, after all.
"I am glad you are here, Sokka," she said with finality, once she had put her finishing touches on her appearance and was ready to leave her office.
"Always happy to help, little sister," he commented, ruffling her hair to annoy her further.
On one hand, she truly was glad. He was aiding her, doing her a great service.
But she also was his little sister indeed, so a mischievous smile spread over her lips. Multiplying the stack of papers and records that she had in her arms, she dumped them all unceremoniously in his unexpecting arms: "Well, then. You won't mind helping me carry these folders to General Longsword Silverfang's office!"
His answering groan kept her laughing during the whole route.
General Longsword Silverfang was not alone once they reached his office, but his expression told Katara that he wished he was. Or, at least, that there was only one of the two visitors who were inside with him.
She eyed warily the wizard that was standing up, mid-sentence and mid-movement with his lips stretched out and one hand reaching inside his pocket, undoubtedly for his wand. He had a tall body and a tamed mane of hair, but other than that, no feature struck her as worthy of note. Given the badge pinned on the lapels of his jacket, the wizard was a member of the DMLE, probably their Head, since he was towering over the General's desk with a thundering expression, but their ranks meant nothing to Goblins.
Besides, he had been paralyzed by magic for daring to raise his voice against a War General. If he truly was the Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, the rest must have been doomed!
She then shifted her eyes amusedly from him, having them land to the witch that had remained seated and poised, although she was rubbing her temples as if to ward away the migraine her superior must have been causing. Her summer robe was lightly coloured and she didn't need to display any insignia of power, for it still rolled from her despite her trying to conceal it.
Now, that was a witch she might consider respecting or worthy of having a position of power and authority.
The witch sighed deeply, fixing her monocle and giving a long and disappointed glare to the wizard, before turning her undivided attention to General Longsword Silverfang.
"I apologise for my superior, General," she said, voice gravelly and deeply tired, "and I assure you I shall submit an internal investigation on his behaviour, it is unacceptable for him to have raised his voice. Not to mention, a full report of his many shortcomings will be handled once I return to the Ministry, and it might finally break his career. It is absolutely ridiculous, I do not even wish to know where he gathered the audacity to be this stupid. This time my complaints might even be heard, thanks to your quick removal of the former Chief Warlock."
The General smiled at her, showing his sharp teeth. Lesser wixen and lesser Goblins would have hid at the sight, at the bloodlust in his eyes, but the witch stood her ground. Or rather, remained seated through it, without even wincing.
"More reason to rejoice about his imprisonment, then!" he said with finality, clapping his hands once and beckoning Katara and Sokka closer, "Allow me to introduce you to Healer Blood-bender and Warrior Meteorsword, both of the Southern Water Tribes. This is Madame Amelia Mignonette Bones, Director of the Department of Underage Magic."
The witch rose gracefully to her feet and bowed deeply, as was Goblin costume, with her fist over her heart: "It is my honour to make your acquaintances," she exclaimed, honesty deep in her tone and respect dripping from her throat."
Katara eyed the General, who was smiling approvingly.
Perhaps the number of wixen they could tolerate would increment, she reasoned with herself, if they began showing half the respect the witch in front of them did. Perhaps not all hopes were lost.
"A witch who honours goblins, how peculiar," Sokka drawled out, nodding his head and squaring Madame Bones from head to toe, undoubtedly assessing her levels of threat.
Yet she did not appear bothered by his inquiring gaze: "Thank you for your compliment, Warrior."
Katara, knowing her brother rather well, stepped in between him and the witch. She was quite tired of his antics and they had a tight schedule, after all. "Since you are here, Madame Bones, I believe you will need the original copies authenticated of young Heir Potter's medical and magical examination," she said, handing the witch the documents and leaving another copy on the General's desk, for good measure. He had been the one who was superseding the guardianship process, so it made sense for him to have access to the tests, especially if it helped evaluate possible caretakers for the child. She wasn't willing to have anything left up to chance, not with that precious boy still sleeping in her Infirmary. "I took the liberty to add his recovery tracks and the detailed needs he will have in the near and far future to counteract the abuse he suffered. Potions, meal regimens, a proper physical health and whatnot."
"Thank you, Healer Blood-Bender, it has been most kind of you," the witch exclaimed, shuffling through the papers and looking back at Katara with gratitude in her eyes. She kept onto the bundle, as if afraid it might disappear from right under her hands unless she was constantly touching it. Which, given the state of the entire DMLE after the imprisonment of the Chief Warlock, might have been a rational fear. Their "Daily Prophet" was laying quite thick on the disarray of the entire ministry, after all. "I would have asked for an audience with you as soon as I arrived for this very reason, but my superior insisted on meeting with the General first."
"I don't think he will be your superior much longer," the General stated happily, looking at said wizard in disgust.
"I can only pray to Magic he won't!"
General Longsword Silverfang nodded along with her words, gazing calculatedly at the witch. "Indeed," he drawled out, reaching to light his pipe and dragging out a cloud of smoke, "perhaps you might be asked to fill his less than remarkable shoes."
Madame Bones chuckled at that, with hints of both disbelief and embarrassment, her cheeks reddening slightly: "Goodness gracious, I pray to Helga I won't," she exclaimed in unease, as if the mere thought was enough to make her break out in hives, "Too much paperwork has been ignored inside the DMLE, I would not wish that position on my worst enemy."
"Your worst enemy would not deserve the prestige," came a smooth reply from the General, who simply stared at her.
"Considering my current worst enemy has been defeated and imprisoned by you, General, I shall take your word for it."
That seemed to surprise him. It certainly surprised Katara. After all, she had been led to believe that, due to his status, Albus Dumbledore was relived as the greatest wizard on the whole island and a Saviour amongst the English Wixen. It was good to know that some could still think for themselves.
"Not a staunch supporter of the old coot?" the General asked, curiosity shining behind bright eyes, before taking one more drag from his pipe.
"He made my work much more difficult, even back when I was a simple Auror," came the easy reply, short and right to the point, in a way a Goblin could appreciate, "He was always butting his head in affairs that did not concern him and believed himself to be the only intelligent being on the Planet. If something went against his plans and plots, it was always "evil". And, once my Susan would have begun her schooling, I do believe he might have put her in danger, considering she will share her year with Heir Potter and I believe said "old coot" had various plans to enact upon his Sorting."
The General nodded his appreciation at her words: "Well, it was a good thing his plans have been thwarted, for more than one reason, then."
"Absolutely," she said, with a wicked smile on her face. She then turned once more towards Katara: "Healer Blood-bender, may I have an audience with the boy, while he remains in your care? While much can be deducted from the record you provided, I would need somewhat of a testimony, before the charges can be pressed with the Muggle authorities. Unfortunately, Vernon Dursley has a good lawyer and we need to be airtight with our work, if we can hope to have him and his wife completely removed from Heir Potter's life."
"How come he is so prepared? Did he foresee that his neglect and abuse would become public knowledge?" Katara couldn't help but wonder and ask.
Could young Harry's previous guardians have such a degree of premeditation? Just how far had they gone to protect themselves and damage such a sweet child?
"From what I have gathered, he is quite lacklustre in his work and the lawyer on his retainer had to aid him more than once when he collided with the Muggle authorities," Madame Bones states, easing a little of Katara's worries, only to raise more prominent ones, "For his treatment of young Heir Potter, though, I believe he and his wife were assured by Dumbledore that their actions would be unpunished, given the compulsions on the boy. And given the testimony the General acquired on your prisoner."
"Interesting," she drawled out, planning to visit the wizard's cell and have him understand just how cruel he had been to those who had relied on him. "Another crime to lay at his feet, then. How wonderful."
"A bit on the nose, all his machinations, don't you agree?" Sokka exclaimed, undoubtedly connecting the dots between a properly beaten down child, ready to be used as a weapon or as a martyr under the "right" guidance. The former Headmaster had mentioned young Harry to have been used as a vessel for the black magic, after all, so it was not a far-fetched idea, for him to have orchestrated all his pain and suffering for his own gain.
But Katara did not wish to spend one moment more thinking about that foul wizard. Not before she could use her innate abilities to make him pay for his crimes.
"As for Heir Potter, he is still asleep and, considering there still needs to be a cleansing ritual, he might remain so for a few days. We shall inform you once he wakes."
"That is most kind and generous of you, I thank you."
"What about his godfather?" she couldn't refrain herself from asking. After all, the witch might have fresh news concerning the previously imprisoned wizard, who had been sprawled on the fourth page of every wizarding publication, but about whom there wasn't much knowledge.
The first pages were all dedicated to the ruinous Headmaster after all. As many more after those as well. That news did take priority.
"Sirius Orion Black was freed from Azkaban immediately after we unsealed James and Lily Potter's wills, where they stated who their Secret Keeper was, and he was shipped directly to St Mungo's two days ago after he was interrogated with Veritaserum and we found out exactly what happened the night between the 31st of October and the 1st of November. He is currently deep in a restorative coma, though. The healers predict he will wake up tomorrow, or the day after, and he will need constant care and severe mind-healing. Currently, we have not discussed the matter with him, since he was quite delirious. But he vehemently asked about Harry the moment he arrived at the hospital, so I can easily assume he'd want to take full custody of him, once he's able to."
"That is good, he is too much of a sweet child to be left with people who don't care about him."
"In the time he heals, I suppose young Harry can go to one of Black's relatives," the General noted, writing something down and sending a missive through the internal Gringotts delivery system. "Either Mrs Tonks or Lady Malfoy informed the Black account manager that they would be delighted to host him while his godfather restores his health."
"I do not think leaving the Boy Who Lived with Lucius Malfoy would be a good idea," Madame Bones said cautiously, stressing the names for good measure.
But the General reassured her quickly: "Normally, I would agree, but Lady Malfoy enforced a tight contract on her husband, making herself the Head of their Household and ensuring he does not make such mistakes again. And she is prouder of her Black heritage than of her marriage."
"Interesting," she said, pursing her lips in contemplation, before speaking once more: "I know for a fact that one of James and Lily Potter's best friends and Sirius' partner, Remus Lupin, was designated in their wills to take care of their child, but due to his nature the Ministry won't allow it. But he might be inclined to aid Lady Malfoy for the time being, just as a precaution."
"That might be an acceptable compromise," the General exclaimed happily, "If I remember correctly, Mr Lupin and Heir Black were also members of Dumbledore's vigilante group, therefore placing him with a former and acquitted Death Eater would ensure balance."
"How come Mr Lupin cannot take up guardianship?" Katara asked, wanting to understand if her hunch was correct and said "nature" was considered "dark" by ignorant fools.
And indeed, it was.
"He is a werewolf. And too many of Dumbledore's laws revolved around Creature Control, so it would be impossible for a man like him to take custody of any child, even if it was specified by the parents."
"The man did love his machinations," Sokka commented, before Aang's kitsune patronus appeared out of thin air, reminding them that it was time to start the ritual.
She began to move towards the door and bid her goodbyes, but Madame Bones beat them to the farewells: the witch stood up and bowed to the General, before repeating the gesture to the two of them. "He did, far too much for my liking. Well, I will contact both sisters and Mr Lupin, to try to devise a plan. Thank you for bringing the issue to light."
"I thank you for dealing with it so efficiently," the General said, raising his pipe towards her as a salute of sorts, "After all, wixen kind is not notorious for their proficiency."
"I am glad to be a rare exception," was her comment and with that, taking her leave, she was mimicked by the siblings.
As she left the Bank, they marched deeper into the core of the Earth, ready to deal with the abomination stuck inside young Harry's scar.
"Let me get this as straight as possible," her husband began, looking dishevelled with paint splattered over his muggle clothing and hands. The arrow that adorned his head was, thankfully, spared of the additional ink, but neither the ones on the back of his hands nor his entire left cheek were.
It made for a very charismatic picture, albeit one that didn't exactly draw confidence over his cursebreaking abilities to the mind of most.
Yet their thoughts did not matter, considering Aang had been elected as the Head of the Cursebreaking Department for five years in a row and was currently the most capable wix on retainer of the Gringotts Bank.
She had been incredibly proud of him, that first time, and every one after. Although it was difficult to topple those first emotions, considering he had proposed immediately after receiving his title and raise.
He was unaware of her straying line of thought, with her reminiscence down memory lane, for he continued undisturbed: "Albus Dumbledore, formerly scrawny Gryffindor who ended up crying when I was made Head Boy instead of him, defeated his boyfriend Gellert, the same guy who had been kicked out of Durmstrang for selling drugs and who had become a massive Dark Lord. And he managed to make everyone forget how he had originally planned their ascension together and how he was not a Light Wizard. Then, to ensure his own power, he basically created Voldie the Undead, just cause he was itching for a fight. When shit hit the ceiling, he hid behind his soldiers and, due to a bloody prophecy, said great man who had stopped at fifth-year Divination and who had barely passed his OWLs, left a one-year-old to face said Undead Idiot without proper protections, allowing the parents to be killed for good measure. Then, because it was not enough to ensure his own triumph, he tossed the Heir to a Noble and Ancient House in Azkaban, so that he could guarantee said one-year-old grew up malleable and like a pig to slaughter, because he had detected a Horcrux in the poor child's cursed scar and didn't want anyone but him to orchestrate the defeat of Voldie Morty. And he had the audacity to go against a Goblin General."
That pretty much summed up Albus Dumbledore's history indeed. Granted, Aang was probably missing quite a number of details, but considering her disdain for the wizard who would rot in their cells, she wasn't interested in adding them to the summary.
"That is correct," was all she said, watching closely how Aang's face moved from disbelief to incredulity to fury to annoyance and, finally, settled with disappointment.
"What a cunt!" he exclaimed, the words rising from the bottom of his heart, earning a laugh that vibrated through Katara's entire body.
After coming out of the ice, that had claimed him for an entire century, the wizard had been astounded by how much the world had changed in his absence. The thing that had changed the most, in his opinion at least, after the shock that had been proper electricity and plastic and the fact that the British Empire was no more, were curse words, which he had never had much use for before.
But, after his deep and artic sleep, he found a certain fondness for them, and had begun to incorporate them into his vocabulary, since "I can't have only old-fashioned words on the tip of my tongue."
And, no matter how many times she heard him curse, especially since it was thanks to her own brother that he had leant such foul language, it always left her startled and amused. Especially when she could hear the hints of his original accent, lost through time.
He had admitted on doubling down with the curse words in her presence, just to earn her laughter, and she hadn't had the heart to scold him, looking at his bright and happy eyes.
"I knew him, back then," he said, leaning on the wall next to her and moving to sit on the floor, so she wouldn't need to crane her neck up and look at him.
The true downside of their relationship had always been the height difference, after all.
He technically was a hundred years older than her, but considering he had spent those asleep in a magic-induced coma after a failed cursebreaking mission and that she, alongside Sokka, had been the cause for his awakening, they gladly looked over that detail. And any grief they would have for their mixing of races ended either with him raising his wand and making beings understand just how lethal he had to be to remain Head Cursebreaker, or with her using their own blood against them and reminding said stupid beings that she hadn't earned her epithet for nothing.
They were an excellent "power couple" apparently, Sokka had said so himself many times, and once during his speech at their wedding.
"Back at Hogwarts," he continued, toying with his wand as he recalled over a hundred and 20 years of history, "I never would have thought he'd become such an embarrassment. He was a firecracker, aced Transfiguration and Law, just behind me in most classes. He was a Prefect, for fuck's sake, and he had a bright future ahead, as the Headmaster always said. How all of this happened is beyond me. Do you know that he shared a dorm with the first confirmed kill by Fire Crabs at Hogwarts? Granted, ours was the first year to have them in the Care classes, but the record still stands. I assumed he would be the lowest out of our year, but it seems I was mistaken."
"Yeah, well, what can you do?" Sokka commented, strutting in and planting himself between his own best friend and his sister, causing both of them to scoot down the wall, "Idiots are everywhere."
Leave it to her brother to annoy her and destroy a moment with her husband, after all.
"He showed such potential," Aang continued, accommodating for Sokka's body with ease and without the grimace Katara now sported, "Granted, I never had a friendship with him, all high and mighty Gryffindor didn't want to deal with us 'Puffs. And he threw a fit whenever I did better than him. But to be such a disgrace, that is unbelievable. Besides, it's absurd how he kept the knowledge of the Soul Fragments to himself. He wasn't that great at Dark Arts, he should have definitely asked around at the very least. I was already out of the ice when Voldie kicked the bucket the first time, he could have come to me, even as a fellow classmate who had better grades than he did at least."
Sokka patted him on the arm, almost apologetically, before delivering a fatal blow: "I think he might have removed you from all records once you went into the ice, so that he could parade around saying he was the best."
"What a cunt, really!" Aang exploded, sending Katara into another fit of laughter at their combined antics.
Once she had recomposed herself, she moved away from the wall and beckoned them to follow: "Alright, that's about enough talking about that waste of oxygen."
"Yes, mum!"
"Sorry, Kat. It's just…" Aang trailed off, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head and thus smearing paint there too, "I think it's pretty insane, that's all."
She placed her hands in his, not wanting to worry about the stains, and gestured at him to lower, so she could place a placating kiss upon his lips.
Really, the height difference was the most annoying thing ever!
"I know, love," she said, once they had broken apart and begun walking towards the centre of the ritual room, where a tiny sleeping Harry Potter was placed under a protective dome with three different blankets to ensure he'd remain warm despite the chilly temperature, "But don't worry, things will become progressively more insane."
"Well, that's nice to hear! Let's get down to business. Did you administer the potion?" he asked, making a clipboard and a quill appear right into his hands so he could check off their boxes.
He did like to be prepared, after all.
"Twenty minutes ago, just as you asked."
"Great, love!" he commented, scratching the quill on the parchment and leaning down to kill her once more, before resuming his listing: "The circles are drawn and dry," two checks; "The boy has been prepared," another check; "His magic appears to be stable enough to sustain the ritual," one check more; "What's next? Oh, yes, the Cup is here to absorb the Soul Fragment," a final check.
Satisfied, he rose his head from the parchment and stared deeply at the golden cup they had retrieved the day before: "Don't get me wrong, everything about this is an abomination. But it's so disrespectful to put a Horcrux inside Helga Hufflepuff's Cup!"
"Maybe we can put the Soul Fragments somewhere else?" Sokka chimed in from the other side of the room, yelling his suggestion despite the fact that he could have been heard at a normal volume.
"We could put them in… this?" she rummaged through her pockets, procuring victoriously the empty glass vial that used to contain young Harry's potion. When she had opened the seal, she had been bombarded with a strong smell of garlic and sulphur and it was a good thing the boy had been asleep when she had had to administer it.
She would have not forced him to down the concoction, not with that foul smell and undoubtedly foul taste.
Which made for a rather fitting container for Voldie's soul pieces.
"Thank you," Aang said, taking the vial from her hands and placing it where the Cup used to be, shimming around the objects to the newer calculations for the ritual, "I appreciate it a lot. I feel like I'm missing something. What am I missing?"
"My sword is infused with Basilisk venom, just in case," Sokka yelled again, raising his sword for good measure and earning a chuckle from both her and Aang.
"Sokka's sword has Basilisk venom, just in case. That's all I'd say. Ready to start, love?"
"Let's," she said, taking her position as the tether of the ritual participants, next to the dome, "I will feel infinitely better once Harry is free."
"Me too," Aang said, completely earnestly, before a dorky grin appeared on his face, "I knew his Great-Grandfather, you know? I would recognise that mop of hair everywhere, that's a proper Potter right there. Poor lad, taming those hereditary curls is going to be a curse worse than the Horcrux!"
As they began chanting, her responding laughter could still be heard echoing deep inside the walls of Gringotts.