Year 7-19: Beg, Borrow and Steal

The Lestrange brothers lived in a small cottage out in the countryside, far from civilization. As far as Harry understood things, Rodolphus and Bellatrix once lived in a proper manor until their arrest in the previous war, when it was seized by the Ministry. Since their escape and Bellatrix's death, Rodolphus and Rabastan have been living here together, with vague plans to separate and get their own manors once their brides came of-age.

But Harry quickly realized that their co-habitation arrangement was more than just a matter of convenience. Unlike Crouch Jr., the brothers frequently took guests in the evenings...fellow Death Eaters and their wives, staying well into the night and early morning. It didn't take a huge leap in logic to deduce what they were up to, especially when Harry remembered his conversation with Rodolphus at his father's wedding, inviting him to bring Daphne around and 'sample from other people's platters'. He and Rabastan seemed to be fans of sharing everything in their lives.

Harry knew all of this from the past week he'd spent surveilling the brothers' property. Their ward schema was laughably easy to pick apart; he only had to disable a basic Detection Ward and Alert Ward in order to enter the property without notice. He didn't even have to bother altering the Dark Mark detection ward, which he of course was immune to. Now it was just a matter of observing their patterns and finding the right time to strike.

He was itching to do it sooner than later, to strike while he knew their defenses were low. But he also knew how important timing would be – not just to ensure the mission's success, but because of the greater plan involved. Fleur was working to secure him a meeting with the higher-ups at Gringotts, to ensure he and Andromeda would be able to get into the Lestrange vault the morning after the brothers' death. If he went through with this plan and failed to retrieve the Cup after, he might just blunder the entire war. Patience was key.

It was also crucial to make sure he didn't invite suspicion within Hogwarts. He could not spend every evening away from the castle – he had to remain in the public eye, to keep performing his duties so nobody noticed his frequent absence. He continued to attend every meal, run detentions (for far less students now), and perform his duties as Head Boy. He felt restless wasting his time babysitting children instead of fighting a war, but such was the nature of fighting a war from the shadows.

Finally, he got the news he was looking for. He returned to his dorm after dinner one evening to find his enchanted diary glowing, indicating a new message from Fleur. He opened it and read her short missive:

Tomorrow. Ragnok the Ruthless. 3:30 PM.

Harry's heart skipped a beat as he read the message. It was, of course, phase one of their plan: meeting with the goblins and convincing them to grant him access to the Lestrange vault. A simple plan on paper, but a risky one. There was a very real chance that Harry would be arrested for bribery and sentenced to Azkaban – he would not go quietly, of course, but it would blow up all of his carefully-laid plans.

But there was no room for doubts now. They were out of time, and the only thing to be done was commit fully. Confidence and leverage were his only tools here, and while he lacked the subtlety and cunning that might come in handy in such negotiations, he felt that the Sword of Gryffindor was a strong enough bargaining chip to do the job anyway.

So the next day, Harry resumed his normal routine, going for a morning jog before attending breakfast and his early classes. Internally he was stressed about what was to come later in the day, but he betrayed no emotion, maintaining appearances through lunch and his first lesson of the afternoon. Rather than head to History of Magic for his final class, he ducked away from his classmates and stole away to the alcove outside Snape's office to Apparate away.

He arrived at Diagon Alley, walking confidently down the main thoroughfare concealed beneath a glamour. He remained nonchalant and purposeful in his stride, giving no passing Aurors or Death Eaters reason to stop him. He wasn't even sure which one would be worse to be scrutinized by (though the two were getting more difficult to distinguish as of late).

Harry marched straight up to Gringotts and into the foyer, waiting patiently in line until a teller opened up for him. "Good afternoon," he said politely. "I have a 3:30 meeting with Ragnok the Ruthless."

The goblin behind the desk rifled through a stack of parchment paper until he found what he was looking for. "Room thirty-seven, down the hall on your left," the goblin said lazily, flicking his hand towards the hallway in obvious dismissal.

Harry strode down the long hallway, which curved around the corner for what felt like an impossibly long distance. The sounds of the foyer disappeared behind him, and Harry felt like he was being swallowed whole by the massive marble building. He passed by several dozen armed guards along the way, causing him to sweat and his heart to pound even faster. If he was forced to fight his way out of here, it would be no easy task.

He finally located Room 37 and entered. It contained a simple conference table with a few chairs around it; he sat in one, waiting restlessly for Ragnok to arrive. Are goblins usually this late? Harry wondered, wiping sweat from his brow at he checked the clock on the wall...3:41 PM. Had Fleur gotten the time wrong? Or were they making him wait deliberately to make him squirm?

Finally, the door swung open, and a squat goblin in formal attire marched into the room. Two guards followed, closing the door behind them and standing guard in front of it. Harry stood awkwardly, unsure of how to greet a goblin properly.

"Ragnok the Ruthless," he said, giving the goblin a deep bow. "Thank you for taking my—"

"Sit," Ragnok said dismissively. The goblin sat in the chair at the head of the table and snapped his fingers; it rose to a proper height to allow him and Harry to speak at eye level. "What can Gringotts do for you today, Mr. Potter?"

"I…" Harry began, then froze, a chill running down his spine at the address. "I'm sorry?"

"Do you think Gringotts Bank does not wish to know who they are doing business with?" Ragnok sneered. "That is a cute glamour you had on, but such subterfuge is not appreciated in this establishment."

Harry groaned internally, feeling his face; it was still dripping with a substance he now realized was not sweat at all. They must have had Thief's Downfall misted into the halls to subtly remove any enchantments brought into the bank. A clever move on their part.

"My apologies," said Harry, deciding not to show any weakness. "My intention was not to deceive. I simply did not want to be recognized in public, given my reputation."

Ragnok sneered, surveying Harry suspiciously. "Naturally," he grinned toothily. "Many prominent witches and wizards also choose concealment in Diagon Alley. So, what message does the Minister of Magic send for Gringotts?"

"What?" said Harry. "No, I'm not here on behalf of my father. Nor am I representing the Ministry at all. I am here of my own accord."

"I see," said Ragnok. He flipped through a clipboard he was carrying and consulted some scribbled notes in Gobbledegook that Harry could not decipher. "One of our junior curse-breakers indicated that you wished to meet about a treasure discovery. Do you wish to offer an item for purchase by the bank?"

"I have recently come into possession of a rather valuable artifact," said Harry vaguely. "I believe it is something that Gringotts, and more specifically the Goblin Nation, will highly covet."

"We have assessors that can examine any such artifacts and determine their market value," said Ragnok lazily. "It hardly warrants a private audience with bank management."

"The artifact is not for sale," said Harry. "In fact, it's virtually priceless. I ask not for payment in exchange, but a favor."

Ragnok narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What kind of favor?"

Harry took a deep breath. This was the moment: do or die. Commit or leave. But Harry knew there was no backing out now...he was in far too deep to second-guess himself at this stage.

"I need access to a secure vault," said Harry. "I expect that the owner will pass away soon without any living heirs, ceding control to Gringotts. Once that happens, myself and an associate will need one hour to ourselves within the vault to retrieve an item. After that, this artifact will be yours."

Harry's heart thumped as Ragnok stared him down impassively. It felt like hours ticked by, but in reality it was just seconds, as Harry willed himself not to break eye contact or show any kind of weakness.

"You seek to bribe a Gringotts official in order to steal from one of our vaults?" Ragnok asked in a dangerously low voice.

"Correct," said Harry.

"What you suggest is highly illegal," said Ragnok. "Something I am sure you are already aware of, Mr. Potter. Have you come seeking a life sentence in Azkaban?" The two guards by the door took a menacing step forward, as if preparing for Ragnok's orders to seize Harry by force and arrest him.

"There is no need for that, Ragnok," said Harry calmly. "I believe once you learn what I am offering, you may be inclined to agree."

"Gringotts has no interest in wizard gold or artifacts," said Ragnok. "Nothing you can offer us is worth us risking our banking license. Now, guards—"

"What about the Sword of Gryffindor?" Harry asked casually.

The effect his words had was immediate. Ragnok leapt to his feet, adding a measly six inches to his height as the two guards froze in place. "The Sword of Gryffindor?" Ragnok scoffed. "You possess no such thing. The Sword has been missing for centuries."

"Not true," said Harry. "It was stolen from a goblin grave, outside Godric's Hollow, just two years ago."

Ragnok narrowed his eyes again...he'd clearly known that already, but didn't realize any wizard was aware of this fact. "And you know who stole it?" he demanded.

"I know where it is," Harry said smoothly. "And I will deliver it to you personally, upon gaining access to the account in question."

"It is impossible," Ragnok muttered, shaking his head in denial. "We cannot grant access to a vault that is under probate."

"Not legally, no," said Harry. "But the goblins must still have a way in and out, in order to take inventory and prepare for any inheritance claims. And my associate has blood relation to the owner, with full intentions of filing a claim on the vault upon their death. All I'm asking is one hour in the vault, no records, no questions asked."

"I fail to understand your motive, Potter," said Ragnok. "There are easier ways to enrich oneself, especially a man of your stature in society."

"Like you, I have no interest in gold," said Harry. "There is a single item I require that resides in that vault...an engraved goblet. Nothing else in the vault will be touched."

"And what is the significance of this goblet?" Ragnok asked, still looking suspicious. "Will it be missed?"

Harry hesitated – he didn't want to reveal too much about the Cup of Hufflepuff, both to avoid further questions about horcruxes and to conceal the true nature of the artifact from the goblins. "The goblet has...sentimental value to me," he said vaguely. "And it will only be missed if it is reported missing. This deal would be contingent on Gringotts declining to report anything being taken from the vault."

"And which vault, pray tell, does this concern?"

"The Lestrange family vault," said Harry.

Ragnok clearly did not like this answer. "One of our most heavily-guarded vaults," he muttered. "And one of the wealthiest...I imagine it will be heavily contested with multiple claims of inheritance upon the owner's death."

"Fine by me," Harry shrugged. "I care not who gains control of the vault once the probate period is up. One hour, one object taken from the vault, and you'll have both the Sword and the vault in your possession."

"And once that probate period is up?" Ragnok demanded. "When the goblet is discovered missing?"

"It won't be," Harry said confidently. Because everyone who would care will be dead by then, he left unsaid. Either the war would be over by the time the ninety days were up, or all would be lost anyway.

Ragnok said nothing, surveying Harry curiously. A long silence followed, as the goblin appeared to actually be taking his proposal seriously. That was good news, at least.

"How can Gringotts be sure you are telling the truth about the Sword?" asked Ragnok suspiciously. "Wizardkind has deceived the goblins in such matters before."

"I have held the Sword in my own two hands," said Harry. This was technically true, though in a different timeline...which he supposed made it a partial truth, because they weren't his current literal hands at the time.

"Describe it," Ragnok demanded.

"It's roughly three feet long, with a silver handle encrusted with three rubies," said Harry at once. "The name 'Godric Gryffindor' is engraved into the side of the blade, which is forged of goblin silver."

"Anyone could have read such a description from a textbook," Ragnok muttered dismissively.

"The Sword also possesses the ability to imbibe the properties of any substance it comes in contact with," Harry continued. "Anything that makes it stronger, that is."

Ragnok arched an eyebrow at this, looking like he was starting to believe Harry. "Perhaps you do possess the Sword," he muttered thoughtfully. "Very well, Mr. Potter. Bring it to us, so that our experts may examine it, and then we will consider your request."

"Not going to happen," said Harry, shaking his head.

"What deception is this, then?" Ragnok demanded. "You mean to illegally enter a vault without proving that you possess the Sword?"

Harry took a deep breath to steady himself – this would be the trickiest part of the negotiations, as he couldn't reveal that he did not currently possess the Sword. "You will have the Sword upon receipt of the goblet from the vault," he said. "Goblins have been known to double-cross wizards, too. How am I to know that the moment I hand over the Sword, you won't attempt to have me imprisoned for entering the vault illegally?"

Ragnok's eyelid twitched slightly, and Harry knew he'd hit the nail on the head. That did, in fact, seem to be the goblin's underhanded plan. "No Sword, no entry," he said firmly.

"No entry, no Sword," Harry retorted, folding his arms.

The two stared at one another for a moment, seemingly at an impasse. Ragnok attempted to maintain neutrality, but Harry saw the telltale gleam in his eye – the undisguised greed at the prospect of obtaining the Sword of Gryffindor. Not only was it a priceless artifact, it would undoubtedly gain him significant prestige within the Goblin Nation for returning it to its rightful people.

"I can see that we are unable to reach an agreement," said Harry, standing from his seat. "I apologize for wasting your time, Ragnok. Good day." And he strode across the room towards the door; the two guards hesitated, but stood aside to let him through. Harry pushed the door open, prepared to walk down the hall and back into the Atrium—

"Alright, alright, wizard! You win. Come, sit."

Harry grinned to himself, knowing he had Ragnok right where he wanted him. He had all the leverage now...Ragnok did not want to see the Sword slip from his grasp, not when it was being offered so plainly to him. Harry retook his seat and waited for Ragnok to speak again.

"You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Potter," the goblin snarled. "Say we agree to your plan, and allow you to withdraw said goblet. What is to stop you from reneging and withholding the Sword from us?"

"Then you will have a powerful wizard in your debt," Harry said plainly. "Imagine having enough dirt on the son of the Minister of Magic to send him to Azkaban for life. What kind of political leverage might that give you?"

Ragnok seemed intrigued by this prospect. Harry could virtually hear the gears turning in the goblin's head, weighing the relative merits of committing bank fraud versus holding leverage over the Minister of Magic. If he only knew how valuable the Cup of Hufflepuff was, and how relatively powerless James was, he would surely decline in an instant.

"There is one other matter of significance to this deal," said Harry. "The Sword has been corrupted by Dark magic."

"It is no matter," said Ragnok dismissively. "Our curse-breakers can destroy any wizard-made enchantments that may linger upon the Sword."

"Even if it has become a horcrux?" asked Harry.

Ragnok recoiled at this. "A horcrux?" he repeated. "Such horrid magic, on a goblin-made artifact? It is abhorrent, simply abhorrent!"

"But you can remove it?" Harry pressed, suddenly excited.

"Naturally," Ragnok scoffed. "Goblin silver is designed to withstand extreme temperatures, including dragon fire. Five minutes in a goblin forge will ensure that any Dark magic is purged from the artifact, even a horcrux."

"I see," Harry nodded thoughtfully. It was nice to know that the goblins would be able to take care of the horcrux for him, though he found himself slightly disappointed. For a brief moment, he had a glimmer of hope that the goblins could somehow remove horcruxes without destroying the host, thereby giving Neville an alternate chance at life. "That is an acceptable outcome."

"Gringotts is intrigued by your offer, Mr. Potter," said Ragnok, drumming his fingers together thoughtfully. "However, we would still demand collateral to ensure receipt of the Sword. Goblins are not a trusting people."

"I would be willing to sign a magically-binding contract agreeing to hand over the Sword," said Harry. "If you do not receive it within ninety days of the vault being accessed, I will be bound to a lifetime of servitude to the Goblin Nation. I imagine such a document would be a valuable bargaining chip if I fail to meet the conditions."

Ragnok looked surprised by Harry's willingness (or perhaps naivete) to agree to such a deal. However, he still looked skeptical. "Such a document would also give you bargaining power over us," the goblin pointed out. "It would create a paper trail to our agreement to let you access the vault, incriminating Gringotts."

"Then the contracts will self-immolate upon completion of the transaction," Harry offered. "So we both get what we want and there is no evidence of our crimes."

Ragnok considered this for a long while. Harry's heart pounded, knowing he was tantalizingly close to getting past the most significant hurdle. After a minute of thought, a devious, toothy smile spread across Ragnok's face.

"Guards!" Ragnok barked, causing the two goblins at the door to snap to attention. For a brief moment of panic, Harry thought he was about to be arrested after all. But instead the goblin said, "Go to the legal office and fetch me a lawyer. We need to draft up a contract for Mr. Potter here."

The next hour and a half was spent poring over documents with Ragnok and a goblin lawyer. Harry meticulously read each sentence, each word to ensure he was not falling into any traps. The consequences for failure to hand over the Sword were severe, and Harry did not object to any of the subsequent stipulations in that instance, knowing he would be dead anyway if he failed to comply. Eventually he signed his name with a blood quill, and Ragnok did the same, effectively agreeing to break the law together.

By the time they were finished, it was nearly six PM. Harry hurried from the bank back to the Apparation point to return to Hogwarts in time to make a dinner appearance. He was slightly late entering the Great Hall, but few people noticed; the Carrows had long since stopped caring about him, and Snape barely acknowledged Harry these days. The only person who met his eyeline was Grindelwald, always with that knowing smirk that suggested he knew precisely what Harry was up to, unnerving him.

Harry broke the news to Fleur that evening in the diary. You should not have given them that much power over you, she reprimanded him. The goblins are not to be trifled with.

I reckon I'll have bigger problems if I fail to deliver the Sword on time, Harry reasoned. We need to end this by June anyway, right? Anything that happens after that is irrelevant.

You're putting a lot of faith in this plan to use the Sorting Hat to retrieve the Sword. What if it doesn't work?

It has to. Or we'll find another way to get the Sword. We have no other choice.

Fleur didn't respond for a few minutes. Harry could read between the lines to know what she was thinking: she hated what Harry had gotten himself into, but knew how limited their options were, and that hesitation would do them no favors. When do you plan to move forward, then? she eventually wrote.

Next week, most likely, Harry replied. On a weekday, so the bank is open the following day. I'll alert you with the coins a day in advance, so you can make sure Ragnok is ready to meet us at opening to let us into the vault.

So soon? Fleur wrote. You are certain you are prepared?

As certain as I'll ever be.

Harry knew it didn't matter how prepared he truly was – he was running out of time. March had snuck up on him out of nowhere, the warming temperatures and melting snows reminding him of how quickly time was marching ahead of him. He could not afford to wait any longer...the horcruxes had to be dealt with, or all would be lost. He would sign a million more blood contracts bankrupting his future if it meant accelerating his timeline just a day or two faster.

And as with Barty Crouch, he did not want to delay too long in case the Lestrange brothers' routine changed significantly. He'd noticed several key patterns in their behaviors...while they were unpredictable on weekends, either throwing large bashes at their cottage or absent from the home entirely, they slowed down in the middle of the week, rarely taking visitors and mostly sticking to themselves in the evenings after work. Harry was also certain that they had no house-elves or other magical creatures to surprise him, giving him the perfect window to strike.

So the following Tuesday, after yet another stakeout of the Lestrange cottage with no significant incident, Harry decided it was time. That night, he pulled out his enchanted Galleon and changed the serial numbers to tomorrow's date, Wednesday the 4th of March. Daphne startled across the room as her coin glowed; she met Harry's eye and fearfully nodded her understanding. She would need to be ready in case of emergency. Harry hoped that both Fleur and Andromeda were ready too, as both would be crucial elements to this plan working.

Somehow Harry managed to stay calm throughout classes the following morning and afternoon, going about his business as if it were any other Wednesday. He even loudly gave a third-year Hufflepuff girl detention in the Great Hall for running down the aisles, ensuring all could see and hear him. If anyone bothered to think of Harry on this particular day, it would be his presence here in the castle, performing his duties, giving no indication of what he had planned for that evening.

After a quick dinner, Harry excused himself from the Great Hall and Apparated from the castle to the Lestrange residence. Rabastan was already home when he arrived...that was typical, as the younger brother often left work before five PM. Harry had no clue what the man did at the Ministry, but clearly it wasn't that important. Rodolphus was the one Voldemort cared more about, giving him more responsibilities in order to keep a closer eye on him.

Harry settled into the bushes to wait. Usually the two brothers shared dinner together once Rodolphus returned home, which is when he planned to strike. But as the sun set, it became clear that this would not be the case this evening...Rabastan appeared to be eating alone, and Rodolphus was nowhere to be seen. Something had altered their plans for the night, and Harry did not know what it was.

He weighed his options. Should he back out and plan for another night? It would force him to somehow contact Fleur and Andromeda and warn them that the plan was off, that they would have to abort and try again later. If Rodolphus didn't show up soon, it would jeopardize all of the work Harry had planned, as both he and Rabastan needed to die for his scheme to work. He began to worry as the clock ticked past six, seven, eight o'clock, with no Rodolphus in sight…

Then, just as Harry was about to officially back out and cancel his plans, he heard the tell-tale crack of Apparation within the cottage. To his surprise, the sound of multiple voices wafted from the nearby window, indicating more people than expected. "Hominem revelio," Harry whispered; a pulse of magic flared out, telling him that there were now four people inside the home, not two. Visitors, this late? But who?

Harry knew the safest option was to just back out and try again another night, when there weren't such unpredictable factors at play. But he decided to wait it out just a bit longer, to see what might be going on inside the house. "Homunculi speculo," he muttered, creating a copy of himself that he sent slowly forward towards the house. He directed his carbon copy around to the back of the home, slipping through the back wall and into a tiny cupboard adjacent to the kitchen. Suddenly the voices inside became crystal-clear, and he could hear the conversation taking place, even though he dared not peek out to see who was speaking.

"...held up by that ponce Percy Weasley again," Rodolphus was complaining loudly over the sound of clinking china. "Keeps pesterin' me about paperwork being filed improperly. Like bloody hell, kid, fix it your damned self!"

"We oughtta exterminate all the Weasleys while we can," Rabastan grumbled bitterly. "The youngest son is a damned traitor, and the rest of 'em are all Dumbledore loyalists."

"Yeah, but they're too damned useful to be rid of," Rodolphus sighed. "The oldest Bill is one of Gringotts' top blokes, and the twins are supplying all of our Aurors' Shield garb. The Dark Lord briefly considered using the youngest girl as leverage, but the lecher Amycus Carrow ruined that plan by taking her hand in marriage."

"Thank Merlin the Dark Lord still honors the proper pure-blood wedding traditions," Rabastan muttered. Then, he laughed loudly, adding, "Damned shame we don't give a toss about 'em ourselves, am I right, Reaver?"

A third man chuckled, and Harry realized it was Gilderoy Lockhart. "Too true," Lockhart agreed. "I daresay I had my doubts, but there is a particular pleasure in seeing my dearly betrothed so thoroughly ravaged by another man. Isn't that right, dearest?"

Lockhart and the two Lestrange brothers guffawed loudly, while the fourth occupant in the room remained silent. It occurred to Harry that it must be Pansy Parkinson, whom Lockhart had selected as his bride at the Minister's Ball last November. A pang of guilt struck Harry as he realized what this meeting was about...it was rare for the Lestranges to entertain guests during the week, but it usually involved other Death Eaters and their wives, performing various group activities that Harry preferred not to visualize in his head.

"Well, shall we get straight to it, then?" Rabastan suggested eagerly. "I'd love to be the first to break 'er in...it's been ages since I had such a fair-skinned lass." Harry heard a brief whimper from Pansy, either as a reflex from being touched, or from fear at what the evening might entail for her, if not both.

"Ah, about that," Lockhart sighed, setting down his goblet with a heavy clunk. "Afraid I'm needed in Knockturn this evening, to cover for some of Crouch's old duties. But a deal's a deal...you two can have your fun with her tonight, and when your two brides come of-age next month, I am sure you'll return the favor in kind."

"Agreed!" Rodolphus said eagerly. "You're too kind, Gilderoy—er, I mean, Reaver. We'll try not to bloody her up too much."

"As long as she's still breathing, I don't much mind," Lockhart said dismissively, his chair scraping as he stood to leave. "Not like she participates much in bed herself...maybe she'd be better off as a vegetable."

Harry felt a sudden strong urge to burst into the cottage then and there and begin firing spells. Not only was his sense of chivalry stirred by this brazen discussion of domestic assault, he was sorely tempted by the prospect of taking out the Lestranges AND Gilderoy Lockhart in one fell swoop. But he restrained himself, knowing it was far too risky. Taking on three Death Eaters at once was near-suicidal – his task of subduing all three would be exponentially harder, and if any one of them got an opening to press their Dark Mark and summon Voldemort, he was doomed. As tantalizing of a target that Lockhart was, Harry had to let him go this time and look for a more opportune moment to strike.

"Expect me back around midnight," said Lockhart as he stood from the table. "Have fun, you three!" And with a small pop, Lockhart Disapparated, leaving the Lestranges alone with their prey.

"Well, she's all yours, Rab," said Rodolphus, as he too stood from the table. "Why don't you get her started while I freshen up a bit?"

"You read my mind," Rabastan chuckled. There was a tiny eep of surprise as Rabastan stood, his heavy footfalls retreating towards the bedroom indicating that he'd thrown Pansy over his shoulder to carry her to bed.

Harry weighed his options. Pansy was not much of a threat to him in these circumstances...he'd be surprised if she even had a wand. It would be a two-on-one fight, just as he'd planned, and the brothers were currently preoccupied and separated from one another. The evening had not transpired as he planned, but he still had a window of opportunity to strike.

Screw it, Harry thought. Fortune favors the bold. His operation would continue on as planned. The Lestranges were going to die tonight.

He released his hold on the body hiding in the bushes, teleporting fully into the kitchen cupboard inside. He slowly cracked open the door; as expected, the main room was empty, dirty plates and goblets still littering the kitchen table. Two doors were shut across the room, both with light spilling out from beneath them – one the bathroom where Rodolphus was readying himself, the other the bedroom where Rabastan had taken Pansy.

Harry made sure there was nothing else in the house to surprise him before creeping out into the center of the room, wand aimed at both doors. He wasn't sure which was which, but his plan was simple: wait for Rodolphus to emerge, take him out silently, then enter the bedroom and finish off Rabastan. Pansy might end up as collateral damage, but Harry would have to live with that...he could not afford to pull his punches.

His heart pounded as he waited for one of the two doors to open. How best to do this? Harry thought to himself. Starting with the Killing Curse seemed unwise – it would force him to speak the spell verbally, announcing his presence and giving both brothers time to react. Perhaps a Stupefy or Petrificus totalus would be wiser, to silently incapacitate one brother before moving on to the next, and returning to finish the job after. Yes, that would do nicely…

Then, Harry nearly jumped out of his skin as he heard a loud BUZZING sound emanating from the kitchen area. He quickly backed towards the table to locate the source of the sound; Rodolphus had left what looked like an official Ministry badge beside his plate, which was currently buzzing loudly and glowing blue.

"Again?" a voice loudly complained from across the room. "The Ministry knows better than to call me in this late…"

Before Harry could react, one of the two doors swung open, and Rodolphus emerged, half-dressed and looking irritated. He froze in the doorway, seeing Harry standing out in the middle of the room. They stared at one another for a long moment from across the room, wide-eyed.

Both acted at the same moment. Rodolphus plunged his hand into his pocket for his wand, as Harry aimed his and cast a silent Body-Bind Curse at the man. His aim was true; Rodolphus froze like a statue, his arms and legs snapping together as he wobbled uncertainly on the balls of his feet, his wand clattering to the ground.

Harry's plan had worked. Only, he didn't account for what would happen next. Before he could react, Rodolphus toppled forwards, his frozen body falling to the floorboards with a deafening CRASH.

There was a tense moment of silence. "Rodolphus?" Rabastan called out from the bedroom. "What in blazes was that?"

Harry heard footsteps approaching, then the bedroom door swung open, as Rabastan emerged from within. No time to second-guess now, Harry thought grimly, aiming his wand at the newcomer. "Avada Kedavra!" he shouted.

The green bolt of light exploded from his wand and careened across the room, aimed perfectly at Rabastan's chest. But the man tripped over his brother's frozen form, which had landed directly in front of the door frame; Rabastan too fell to the ground as the Killing Curse made contact with the door behind him. It exploded with great force, spraying splinters of wood everywhere, causing Pansy to scream from within from the commotion.

"Avada Kedav—" Harry bellowed again, but Rabastan had reacted quickly, snatching up his brother's fallen wand and firing blind curses in Harry's direction. Harry was forced to spin away, taking cover behind a support beam as the spells zoomed past his head.

"What is happening?" Pansy shrieked from the bedroom.

"Shut up, bitch, and lemme focus!" Rabastan snarled. Harry did not remain idle, spinning and whipping another series of hexes across the room. Rabastan threw up a Shield Charm, but Harry had anticipated this...he'd aimed for the ceiling above, causing it to cave in on the man, as he grunted in pain.

"Call for help, you useless wench!" Rabastan ordered as he struggled to free himself from the wreckage.

"How?!" Pansy cried. "I haven't got a wand!"

"Figure it out!" Rabastan grunted, as he finally wrestled his way out of the debris. He stumbled to his feet, prepared to face Harry one on one, and then—

SMASH! Rabastan fell backward as a twisted mass of metal and porcelain connected with his head. Harry had transfigured the contents of the kitchen table into a heavy projectile and launched it across the room, connecting with his target.

Harry did not delay. He leapt across the room as Rabastan flailed about, blood pouring down his face as he grasped blindly for his wand. A green flash of light later, and he was no more; another one sent his brother along behind him, both souls extinguished in seconds.

It was suddenly eerily quiet as Harry stood over the two fallen bodies. He felt oddly bereft of emotion as he looked upon the two fallen brothers...no remorse, no satisfaction. Just the cold finality of death, leaving nothing but empty vessels behind. If it was not for the adrenaline pounding in Harry's ears, it might have been a serene scene.

Then, a voice disrupted the silence. "P-please don't kill me." Harry whipped his wand around as Pansy emerged in the doorway, wearing nothing but a sheer nightgown. She looked different than she had when he last saw her months prior...she was thinner now, more frail-looking and pale, as though she hadn't seen the sun in weeks. Gone was the sneering pug-faced girl he'd known growing up at Hogwarts...her face was hard-etched and sunken, as though she'd seen things she would never forget.

"Potter?" Pansy gasped, recognizing him for the first time. Her eyes trailed down to the floor, seeing the two Lestrange brothers' bodies lying in a heap on the carpet. "Y-you've killed them," she trembled. "W-what have you done?"

Kill her, the Elder Wand whispered in Harry's mind. She's a witness, and she saw your face. She can't be allowed to survive and tell others what she saw.

Pansy seemed to realize the danger she was in, wide eyes turning back to Harry. "I-I swear I won't say a word," she stammered. "I'll do anything. You can do anything." And she began to slowly unbutton her nightgown with trembling fingers, as though offering herself in exchange for her life.

Now's your chance for revenge, the Elder Wand whispered gleefully. Take what you want from her and dispose of her. You hold all the power now.

But Harry was feeling something he never thought he'd feel about Pansy Parkinson: pity. This was not the same haughty Slytherin brat he'd known all throughout his childhood. That girl was gone now, replaced by a battered and broken woman, one whose entire existence had been reduced to what she could offer physically to the men who controlled her. It was a pathetic and stomach-turning sight.

She doesn't deserve to die, Harry thought. It's too cruel. Sure, she had been a menace to him at Hogwarts – an arrogant, bigoted child who knew nothing of the realities of the world. But that was not a crime worthy of death. If anything, seeing her now, reckoning with the choices she'd made and the people she'd supported, he figured she had been punished enough.

So instead, he pointed his wand between Pansy's eyes and whispered, "Obliviate." Pansy's eyes went glossy and unfocused for a moment, then she blinked and regained her bearings, staring around the room wildly. Her eyes settled on Harry again and she gasped anew.

"Longbottom?!" she breathed.

Harry had applied a glamour to disguise himself as Neville, aiming the Elder Wand menacingly at her. "Parkinson," he said coldly, emulating the boy's voice as best he could. "I should kill you, but I shall let you live to deliver a message for me."

"W-what kind of message?" Pansy trembled.

"Tell your husband Lockhart that I'm coming for him next," Harry growled as Neville. "And tell his master that his soul will soon be mine. Stupefy." A red bolt of light collided with Pansy, and she collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Harry knew Lockhart would view her memories as soon as he learned what happened here tonight. He would see her memory of Neville and relay the message to Voldemort. That would hopefully set them both on the wrong path, by convincing them that Neville was the perpetrator and that Lockhart was his next target.

Harry knew he could not linger for long. The Ministry badge on the table was still buzzing, and he had no clue how long it would be until someone came calling to see why Rodolphus wasn't responding. He hurried from the room and out the front door. One last piece of business remained before leaving the scene of the crime.

"Morsmordre," he muttered, jabbing his wand to the sky above the cottage. His corrupted Dark Mark burst into existence, complete with his signature lightning bolt crushing the skull beneath. Just a reminder that I'm coming for you, Tom, Harry thought grimly. Then, satisfied with his work, he Apparated back to Hogwarts, checking that the coast was clear on his Map before hurrying back to his dorm.

He did not dare sleep that night...not that he would have been able to, anyway. He was too wound up from the night's events to even think about shutting his mind off. Besides, his Dark Mark was burning angrily on his arm, as Voldemort learned of the Lestrange's deaths and spent the entire night in a state of unbridled rage. But the expected summons did not come...perhaps he did not wish to alert the Death Eaters yet, did not wish to admit weakness, to demonstrate that Neville continued to elude his grasp.

Dawn slowly broke over the grounds, and while Harry was still jittery, he forced himself up and out of bed for his customary morning jog. He had to continue maintaining appearances for as long as possible. He greeted the other two students who were out exercising as well, and even went out of his way to swing by the greenhouses to say hello to Professor Sprout as she opened up for the day. The more people that could bear witness to his presence on campus, the better.

Harry was not hungry in the slightest, but he forced himself to eat something in the Great Hall when it opened for breakfast. The news of the Lestranges' murder was already in the Prophet, as students and staff alike worriedly discussed its significance. Harry felt Daphne's sidelong gaze upon him, but did not dare look back at her, calmly eating his meal as though nothing were the matter.

He checked his watch compulsively as he ate – Gringotts opened at precisely nine o' clock, and he wanted to be there right at opening so he and Andromeda could be in and out as soon as possible. Luckily he had a free period that morning, so nobody in the castle would miss him if he returned quickly enough. At quarter to nine, he excused himself from the Head Table and rushed to the Apparation point to head to Diagon Alley.

Hope Andromeda got the memo, Harry thought as he raced through the quiet morning streets of the alley. It was possible she might get cold feet, or find herself unable to get away from the Ministry as news of the Lestrange's deaths the night before hit the public. But to his relief, he spotted her standing off to one side of the bank as he approached, doing her best to look inconspicuous.

Harry circled around through a back alleyway and Disillusioned himself before approaching Andromeda from behind. "It's me," he whispered as he got close. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Andromeda whispered back. She did not ask for details about the Lestranges or attempt to go over the plan in more detail. She was the epitome of poise and calm, which Harry greatly appreciated in that moment.

At nine on the dot, a goblin arrived to unlock the front doors with a large key, and patrons began to queue in the Atrium. Andromeda hustled to the front of the line, as Harry lingered nearby; his disguise wasn't foolproof, but nobody was likely to notice him if they weren't looking specifically for someone invisible. He crept up alongside Andromeda as she approached the first open teller and cleared her throat.

"Andromeda Potter, here to see Ragnok the Ruthless," she announced primly.

The teller flipped through a stack of parchment to confirm the appointment. "First door to your left," the goblin sneered, beckoning toward the hallway. Andromeda hurried that way, Harry close behind. They took the first door, which led directly to a set of rails, a mine cart already on the tracks ready for them.

After a few minutes' delay, the door opened behind them, and Ragnok strode in, looking cross. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, eyes landing on Andromeda. "You're the Minister's wife...I was expecting his son."

"I'm here," Harry announced, causing Ragnok to jump; he dropped his Disillusionment Charm to reveal himself. "She's with me."

"What's she got to do with this?" Ragnok pressed. "You didn't say your accomplice was someone so connected to the Ministry."

"I am the sister-in-law of the deceased," Andromeda said haughtily. "As House Lestrange is no more, I am the nearest surviving relative of the previous owners of their vault, and demand entry."

"Hmph," Ragnok sniffed, still looking displeased by the proximity of the Minister of Magic to their illegal operation. "Very well. Shall we review our terms once more before proceeding?"

"Time is of the essence, Ragnok," Harry said firmly. "Take us directly to the vault. No need for formalities."

Ragnok huffed in annoyance, but hopped up into the mine cart and motioned for the other two to follow. Harry and Andromeda had barely taken their seats when the cart lurched forward, rocketing down the rails and down into the deep caverns of Gringotts. Harry had never gone so fast on these tracks before; it took all of his Quidditch instincts to keep hold of the small railing in front of him. Andromeda clung to him tightly, trembling and cursing under her breath as they spiraled down into the depths.

The mine cart rounded a corner, and Harry saw a large waterfall cascading over the tracks. He could feel magic radiating off of it from afar...some kind of security measure? But as they approached, Ragnok snapped his fingers, and the flow of water ceased, allowing them to pass through unscathed. Harry could only imagine what might have happened if there was no goblin present.

Finally, after several hair-raising minutes, the mine cart screeched to a halt. They were deep underground, the air musty and stale, and the carved hallways looked ancient – centuries, perhaps millenniums old. Ragnok leapt from the cart and motioned them forward down the nearest hall, their footsteps echoing loudly in the cavernous space.

Harry felt a sense of foreboding as they moved closer. He heard something stirring nearby – something massive. And as they emerged into a clearing, he saw it: a massive white dragon, chained to the wall, looking delirious and undernourished but no less dangerous. It did not appear able to see, but its nose probed the air as they approached, sensing newcomers, sensing danger—

But before the dragon could act, Ragnok pulled a small device from his pouch and began to rattle it. The device made a terrible ringing noise like tiny hammers, causing the dragon to screech in discomfort and retreat. "Quickly, now," Ragnok urged them; Harry and Andromeda followed him around the perimeter of the clearing and down the nearest offshoot.

They emerged in front of an ancient vault door that looked as old as Hogwarts itself. Ragnok pressed his palm to the surface, and the door melted away, revealing a vast treasure trove of riches within. Andromeda appeared unfazed by the opulent display, but Harry marveled at the accumulated wealth the Lestranges had built up over centuries. Until I ended their bloodline, Harry thought grimly.

"You have fifteen minutes," said Ragnok. "Touch nothing but what you require." And the door sealed itself shut again, leaving Harry and Andromeda alone in the vault.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Andromeda asked.

"It's a small golden cup with two handles," said Harry, looking around the vault. "With a badger engraved on its surface."

"Huh," Andromeda muttered. Harry wondered if she was putting the pieces together of what exactly they were after. Did she realize the significance of what they were here to steal? Harry supposed its actual identity paled in comparison to the risks they were taking to get it.

Harry shuffled around a large pile of Galleons towards the back of the vault, careful not to touch anything. He sensed Dark magic in the air all around them, and didn't want to know what kind of nasty traps were set on the various artifacts kept in here. It also made it more difficult to sense the magic of the horcrux, as Harry kept his senses attuned to the room around him, trying to locate it by magic alone—

"Merlin!" Andromeda suddenly hissed; withdrawing her hand in pain. Harry turned to see a silver plate clatter to the ground off a nearby table, multiple copies bursting into existence around it. Gemini Curse, Harry thought grimly; he jabbed his wand at the rapidly-multiplying plates, ceasing the replication process.

"Careful not to touch anything," Harry reminded Andromeda.

"It was an accident," Andromeda said snippily. But as Harry turned his back, he thought he saw her slip something small into her pocket. Skiving a bit off the top, are we? Harry thought, shaking his head at the brazen display. But he said nothing, figuring it wouldn't matter in the long run. By the time anyone took full inventory of the vault and noticed anything else was missing, they would be long gone.

Harry resumed his search, using his wand to carefully move objects out of his path. He was beginning to worry now – all of his planning had been due to a hunch, that the Cup was still in the Lestrange vault. What if he was mistaken? What if it had been moved after Bellatrix's death? What if it had never been here to begin with? Or worse, what if Voldemort had sent someone here in the dead of night to retrieve it by force? A feeling of dread began to overtake him, as his mind raced, wondering what he would do if he was wrong—

Then, he felt it. A malevolent energy, piercing through the haze of Dark magic and chilling Harry to his core. Harry felt like he recognized Voldemort's soul almost as well as his own, as he was drawn immediately to the back corner of the vault. And there it was, amidst a mountain of gold and silver: the Cup of Hufflepuff, sitting innocuously atop the heap.

"Found it," Harry announced. He conjured a small marble box and levitated it up the mountain of riches, using it to scoop up the Cup and bring it back down to him. He sealed the box and tucked it carefully within his robes, careful not to touch anything else. He still felt the putrid magic wafting out of his pocket, but no matter – he could destroy it once they made it out of the bank. For now, it was safely in his possession.

Harry and Andromeda hurried back to the vault door and knocked. Ragnok opened it for them, and they stepped out into the hall; not a second later, a loud bell began clanging overhead – some kind of alarm. Ragnok groaned and snapped his fingers to silence it.

"What have you taken?" he demanded. "You were meant only to take the goblet!"

Andromeda sheepishly began to speak up, but Harry overrode her. "It matters not what was taken," he said firmly. "We have what we need, and we'll be going now."

"This was not part of the deal, Potter!" Ragnok seethed.

"Look, do you want the Sword, or not?" Harry demanded. He and Ragnok glared at one another for a long while; finally the goblin relented with a deep groan.

"Very well," he snapped. "We must make haste, before security arrives to check on the alarm."

They retreated back the way they came, past the dragon, into the mine cart, and back up the winding tracks to the surface. Harry's anxiety slowly began to dissipate as they ascended, breathing in the fresh air with relief. We've made it, he thought. We're actually going to get away with this. Now it's just a matter of retrieving the Sword and killing the snake, and we're practically done…

The mine cart arrived back at the top level. Harry prepared to Disillusion himself again and sneak out the exit, but the door opened, and a pair of goblin clerks rushed into the room, looking anxious. They exchanged brief words with Ragnok in Gobbledegook, which Harry could not decipher, but based on their tone and mannerisms, it sounded like trouble.

Ragnok motioned for Harry and Andromeda to follow him through a side door, which opened up into a conference room identical to the one Harry had met him in the week prior. "Wait here," he ordered, and followed the two clerks from the room, shutting the door behind him.

"What's this about?" Andromeda asked, looking quizzically to Harry.

"Dunno," Harry frowned. More negotiations for the Sword, perhaps? Some act of deception to demand more in exchange for their safe passage? Harry had a bad feeling about this, and as the minutes ticked by, he began to wonder if something had gone awry – if they would not be making such a clean escape after all.

Finally, Ragnok re-entered the room, leering at the two of them. "We have a problem," he growled. "Another party has arrived to dispute ownership of the vault. We are bound by our constitution to honor it."

"What dispute?" Andromeda demanded. "Who was it?"

"They are coming now," said Ragnok. Footsteps echoed in the hallway behind him, heralding a new arrival.

Panic flared up in Harry's chest. Had Voldemort learned of their plans somehow? Had he come to seize the Cup for himself? Or had he simply sent one of his lieutenants to check on it?

"They cannot know I was here," said Harry urgently to Andromeda, before turning to Ragnok. "And they cannot know the Cup was taken. You will never get the Sword if they learn it is missing." And he swiftly cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, backing into the corner and standing perfectly still.

Not a second later, the door burst open, and Narcissa Malfoy strode into the room. She cast an imperious look around the space, eyeing Ragnok suspiciously before her eyes rested on Andromeda.

"Hello, sister," she greeted her neutrally. "It has been many years."

"Twenty-seven, to be precise," said Andromeda coolly. "That was the day I announced my betrothal to Theodore and was kicked out of the house. You never reached out after that."

Narcissa did not deign to respond to this. "I am surprised to see you here, Andy," she said. "Our dearest sister's husband is dead not twelve hours, and you have already come to plunder his vault?"

"I could say the same for you, Cissy," Andromeda retorted. "Though I suppose you had a more direct connection to the dearly departed?"

"My husband insisted upon it," said Narcissa. "And I suppose yours did the same, did he?"

"I am here of my own accord," said Andromeda. "Unlike you, I am not a lapdog that caters to the whims of other masters."

Harry watched on, stunned, as the two estranged sisters conversed stiffly with one another. They looked and acted so alike, both haughty and aristocratic, as Andromeda slipped easily back into the pure-blood persona she'd discarded decades ago.

"Let us dispose of the pleasantries," said Narcissa. "I have as much claim to that vault as you do, and I will not see it fall into the hands of someone who was removed from the family she now seeks to profit from."

"Unlike you and Bella, I was restored to House Black by the current Lord," said Andromeda. "Sometimes it pays to maintain relationships with family. Perhaps you'd like to take it up with Sirius yourself?"

"This does not concern Sirius," said Narcissa. "I am Bella's true family. I alone was there for her when she got out of Azkaban. You have no right to her belongings!"

"Unfortunately, the law says otherwise," said Andromeda. "I am just as much her relative as you are."

"We shall see," Narcissa sniffed. "I too know the law, and I am placing her vault under dispute. That means it is frozen pending legal review – no withdrawals, no deposits."

Andromeda did not respond immediately to this. Harry knew just as she did that this was the worst-case scenario...the vault would now be heavily scrutinized, and they could not legally take anything from it without disclosing it publicly. The only hope they had was that the goblins would honor the bribe and allow the Cup to be removed in secret.

"So, how much did you try to take, dear sister?" asked Narcissa coldly. "A few thousand Galleons to line your pockets?"

"I am not interested in Bella's blood money," said Andromeda. She reached into her cloak, and withdrew the small object Harry had seen her take earlier: a silver brooch, engraved with a glittering 'B' for Black. "This is all that I took."

Narcissa's eyes narrowed at the small object. After a moment, her face softened in recognition. "Your brooch," she said softly.

"The one I gave her when she announced her engagement to Rodolphus," Andromeda nodded, voice sounding far off, as if remembering the day long ago. "Before I was kicked out."

Narcissa seemed to be reminiscing on those days as well. "She was so jealous when mother gave you that brooch as a child," she muttered. "How many fights did you get into when she tried to steal it?"

"Too many to count," said Andromeda, sounding almost mirthful. Narcissa's face twitched slightly, as though she wanted to smile at the memory. For the briefest of moments, the two women looked at each other like true long-lost sisters, united by a common memory of a simpler, happier time.

But then, Narcissa's mask slipped back into place, and she turned back to Ragnok. "Does she tell the truth?" she demanded. "Is this all that was taken?"

Harry held his breath as Ragnok procured a clipboard and examined it. "Records show one item removed from Vault 34," he said. "One engraved silver brooch, no value listed."

Narcissa's stern expression relaxed somewhat at this news. Harry assumed she had been sent only to check on the status of the Cup, not caring about anything else.

"I told you so," said Andromeda sharply. "Do you truly think so little of me as to call me a liar?"

"I called you no such thing," Narcissa scoffed. "But you've no idea the danger you've placed yourself in by entering that vault. The Dark Lord would flay you alive if he knew."

A chill ran down Harry's spine at this remark, and he could see that Andromeda also appeared nervous. "Then I certainly hope he never finds out," she said coolly, though the unspoken threat lingered in the air...would Narcissa inform Voldemort of what transpired here between them?

"Luckily for you, I am not here to squabble over petty childhood grievances, so I will let this transgression slide," Narcissa sniffed, and Harry breathed an internal sigh of relief. "As I said, I am here on behalf of my husband. He wishes only to ensure that the most valuable contents of the vault remain intact."

"Naturally," said Andromeda coolly. "What kind of a Malfoy would he be if he did not jump at every opportunity to plunder from the dead?"

Narcissa's face turned sour, any vestiges of goodwill towards her remaining sister disappearing in a flash. "Our business here is concluded," she said. "See that no other objects are removed from the vault, goblin...you will be hearing from our lawyers shortly."

Narcissa turned towards the door to leave. She paused in the door frame, turning back towards her sister once more. "Oh, and congratulations," she said, nodding towards Andromeda's midsection. "If only mother were still alive to see you become a proper pure-blood." And she swept from the room, the gentle clicking of her heels disappearing down the marble corridor and out of earshot.

"That bitch," Andromeda said bitterly as Harry reappeared beside her. "Still taking out her anger on me for her unhappy marriage."

Harry knew it was not his place to comment on the Black family relations, so he did not respond to this statement directly. "Thank you for covering for me," he said, before turning to Ragnok. "And you as well. Make sure nobody else can access that Vault."

"Just bring us the Sword," the goblin snarled, in no mood for pleasantries. "We will be in touch if it is not delivered promptly." And he too swept from the room, allowing Harry and Andromeda to finally exhale with relief.