“Dmitri! For Merlin’s sake, where the hell have you –”

   “Shut up, Larshall.”

   Larshall’s mouth snapped shut for a few seconds before falling open as Kemester reached one of the massive metal filing cabinets along the side of the room and tore it open. The cabinet bearings squealed horribly as Kemester pulled out file after file, dropping most on the floor as he muttered inaudibly under his breath.

   “Kemester, what the – Kemester, you can’t go in there!”

   “What’s stopping me?” Kemester snapped, ripping another cabinet open with a blunt slash of his wand, shattering the lock entirely.

   “Those are sealed case files!” Larshall replied, his eyes shooting back and forth across the room as his face flushed with panic. He drew his wand hastily. “Dmitri, I really don’t want to do this –”

   He didn’t get another word out of his mouth, because Kemester had just dropped a stack of a dozen thick black files on a nearby table and was rifling through them furiously. It was like he was consumed by something…

   “Kemester, put those back, for fuck’s sake!”

   “Would you relax?” Kemester hissed, looking up and glaring at his former partner. “We’ve got a leak in the department here, and I wanted to verify it.”

   Some blood left Larshall’s face, but not enough of it. “Are you implying that –”

   “I’m not implying, I’m telling you that something’s missing!” Kemester snarled, pointing down with a horribly deformed finger. “Right here there was an evidence bag with a tiny scrap of paper – fuck, you would know that, Reed, you were there when I was reviewing this file over a month ago! A little scrap of paper I duplicated, from the original Auror case file – and now it’s gone. Someone’s already been through this –”

   “Kemester, you’re jumping at shadows,” Larshall said quickly, trying to keep a rational tone in his voice as he looked hastily around the room. Fortunately for the both of them, the dimly-lit Hit Wizard office was nearly empty – most of the officers were either on patrol or had already gone home for some desperately needed rest. “Where the hell were you, any –”

   “Cuffe got brought in,” Kemester growled savagely. “I needed a word with him.”

   The colour drained from Larshall’s face as his panic returned. “Kemester, you can’t do this, Umbridge is going to kill you –”

   “I don’t need the fucking toad this time to find out the truth –”

   “What truth?” Larshall exclaimed, fury and frustration finally leaking into his voice. “Kemester, you’re going to lose everything – again – and this time there are higher stakes than ever. Do you think your brother would have wanted to see you become like this? Do you think Bartholomew can rest easy, knowing what you’ve become –”

   Larshall didn’t get another word out as the air was blasted out of his lungs. He realized a second later that his back was screaming with pain and that there was a wand an inch away from his eye – Kemester’s wand.

   “You mention my brother one more time,” Kemester said, his voice deadly quiet. “And I swear to whatever you hold dear, I’ll kill you. I’ll do it right here. And you know that I wouldn’t care who sees.”

   “Kemester…”

   “The only reason I’m not killing you now is because we need every Hit Wizard and Merlin-forsaken Auror possible right now on mass-alert, and like it or not, you’re one of them. Now when I lower my wand, you’re going to run and find that fucker Shacklebolt. Get him to round up every Auror he can find and bring them back here. Then go and get the Hit Wizards.”

   “Dmitri, what –”

   “And don’t you tell a soul why you’re doing this!” Kemester snarled, jabbing his wand painfully into Larshall’s temple. “The last thing we need is another leak to people we can’t trust, especially considering what’s at stake. Merlin, we’ve been so fucking stupid –”

   “What are you talking about?” Larshall asked, confusion filing his voice as Kemester withdrew his wand and went back to the pile of files. Stacking them untidily, he sent them flying back into the cabinets with a wave of his wand.

   “We’ve been betrayed,” Kemester growled, slamming the cabinets shut and magically repairing the broken lock. “Cuffe gets brought in on charges that make hardly any sense – no person in their right mind would issue a warrant like that right now, we need the Prophet more than ever. But then I realize that with Cuffe out of the way, the Prophet likely will delay print until evening – after Fudge’s speech. Cuffe’s one of Fudge’s greatest allies, one who’d be able to tip him off if something might be going wrong and one that the Minister would listen to, but now he’s in custody. Furthermore, it’s too late for any judge to see him right now – just the way it was planned. You follow that?”

   “I don’t see how that’s –”

   “Reed, listen!” Kemester growled with frustration, fixing Larshall with a horrifyingly intense stare. “Cuffe gets locked up, even though he has ties to the new wizarding bank and the Ministry, ties that would normally get him out faster than damn near anyone. And yet the first lawyers on the scene are from the fucking prosecution – someone set this up!”

   “You think someone wanted Cuffe out of the way,” Larshall said slowly, his mind racing.

   “Worse,” Kemester said, yanking out a piece of parchment and scribbling frantically. “He’s a scapegoat. He’s on the bottom, he’s useless to whoever’s manipulating this right now, but they’re gunning for something higher – political power. And since Fudge finally got that bit of legislation he needs through the Wizengamot this afternoon and is more powerful than ever, they don’t need Cuffe anymore to sway the public into prodding those old warlocks onto our side. So he becomes fodder for when the goblins bomb Diagon Alley –”

   “What?”

   “ – The goblins aren’t going to take this affront lightly, Larshall! There will be blood, and during the confusion, I’m sure Fudge’ll get himself ‘accidentally’ killed by a ‘misfired curse’,” Kemester finished, tossing a handful of drying sand on the parchment and rolling it up tightly. “He gets replaced by an insider who’s got connections to the two groups who we don’t dare let rule this country: the new bank, and Dumbledore.”

   “Dumbledore wouldn’t assassinate anyone –”

   “Bullshit,” Kemester snarled. “Forgetting Laertes Rawling so quickly? Just because Fudge might have been convinced doesn’t mean I believe it. And considering that I’ve got connections to the new bank, I wouldn’t be surprised at all if they were trying it and hanging me out to dry! Hell, they’ll probably implicate me in Fudge’s murder!”

   “But why kill Fudge?” Larshall exclaimed. “From the way you’re telling it, he’s doing everything the new bank executives want!”

   “So it seems – unless he asked for control they won’t give up, or to placate the goblins in some way, which they won’t do.” Kemester muttered. “More likely it’s Dumbledore, setting up one of his pawns in the Ministry to take over –”

   “So let me get this straight,” Larshall interrupted, raising his hands and narrowing his eyes. “You’re suggesting that Cuffe’s effectively baseless arrest was due to a massive conspiracy by either the new bank executives trying to seize Ministerial power or by Dumbledore seeking to make a play for power through his people in the Ministry. Furthermore, you’re suggesting that the goblins are going to bomb Diagon Alley – something that Cuffe could have tipped Fudge off against, were he free –”

   “Cuffe usually has eyes and ears everywhere,” Kemester said curtly, “and it doesn’t help that bitch Skeeter is everywhere she doesn’t need to be. If the goblins were going to attack, he’d know and Fudge would be out of danger in minutes. We need to get him into protective custody before the goblins or an assassin kills him, and that means we’ll need serious muscle to get past the brainless morons that’ll be between us and him.”

   “Umbridge,” Larshall murmured, finally beginning to understand. “And the international journalists? Fudge wants them all there –”

   “And that’s the reason we need more manpower, to get them out,” Kemester said tersely, “if only to avoid another embarrassing international incident on our hands. This could stand to be worse than the Quidditch World Cup if everything goes wrong.”

   Larshall put a hand to his head as he tried to put the whirling puzzle pieces together. “All we need now is for Harry Potter to be involved and this would be typical of your insane theories –”

   Kemester snorted. “Reed, if he’s not involved in some way, I’ll eat my boots. He’s just one of the three pieces I haven’t figured out –”

  “Well, you’d better do it fast,” Larshall said hurriedly, checking his watch. “Fudge’s speech is at nine and it’s past two already – oh, damn, I forgot to tell you! He’s going to pissed…”

   “Who, Scrimgeour?” Kemester asked distractedly, hastily tying a note to an owl’s leg. “I hate the bastard, but if you find him, get him and Bones too, we’ll need all the firepower we can get if the goblins decide to get physically involved –”

   “Lucius Malfoy is in your office. He’s been waiting for you.”

   His hand slipped for a second, and the owl hooted indignantly, but Kemester didn’t care. His eyes narrowed into slits of sudden realization.

   The second puzzle piece was in his grasp.

*          *          *

   “Well, that was easy,” Tonks muttered, trying to slow her breathing as she closed the bathroom door and twisted the lock shut. Her hair had gone a sullen navy, and she was frowning as shoved a heavy trash under the handle. “Too easy. Way too easy”

   “We got what we wanted,” Harry said quietly, untying his golden blonde hair and tossing it back as he looked in the mirror. But despite his tone, the edgy feeling in the pit of his stomach was far more telling. Cuffe had given up quickly, and it had taken them less than ten minutes to convince him to follow all their demands. “He’s going to have the full statement printed as soon as Scrimgeour drops the charges.”

   “You are taking to this girl thing way too easily,” Tonks muttered as she stepped towards one of the many unused toilets. This part of the Ministry was dingy and seldom visited by anyone, and many of the toilets hadn’t been cleaned in a while – thus making one of them a perfect spot to hide a bag covered by Harry’s Invisibility Cloak. “But we can’t afford to waste any more time – if Fudge is making his statement tomorrow morning –”

   The edginess was threatening to blossom into full-fledged panic, but Harry only let his expression harden slightly. At this point, he couldn’t afford to lose his calm – not now, while everything was spinning out of control…

   “We can handle this,” he said slowly, fighting to keep the quaver out of his feminine voice – which was a lot harder than he thought. “We just need to find the international reporters and give them the truth, like Dumbledore said before. That’ll ruin Fudge’s chances for a successful press conference if they’re attacking his credibility. Is there any way we can get to them?”

   Tonks drew her wand. “Inquisito itineris,” she muttered, with a tight circular wave of her wand, and before Harry’s astounded eyes, what appeared to be a hazy, three-dimensional golden image of the entire Ministry materialized. Some parts glowed bright yellow, while other sections took on a sodden vomit-like shade.

   “Where did you learn that spell?”

   “Auror training course in basic utility spells. A lot bloody harder than you’d think,” Tonks replied tensely, scanning the cross-sectional map carefully. “And since I’m not nearly good enough to imprint the image into our minds, we’re going to have to go with this. And this isn’t even very good – most of Experimental Charms and the Department of Mysteries is simply too magical to be mapped properly. Hell, this close to the Department of Mysteries, I’m surprised this spell worked at all.”

   “Where are we now?” Harry asked, already planning on asking Tonks how the spell worked when he had more time.

   “Here, just off of the interrogation rooms” Tonks whispered, tapping the spot on the map with her wand. It gleamed like a single miniature turquoise star, floating in the middle of the map. “We need to get here.” She pointed at another spot on the map, six stories up. Where her wand touched, another miniature star ignited, this time a brilliant red. “That’s where the Department of International Magical Cooperation is, on Level Five – and it’s also where the foreign journalists are being kept. “And to get up there, we need to pass at least three security checkpoints: once leaving this level; once passing the Department of Magical Law Enforcement on Level Two; and once before we actually get into the area where the reporters are sequestered.”

   Harry let out a frustrated groan. “Tell me there’s a way around.”

   “This late at night?” Tonks asked incredulously. “I’m amazed we only got stopped three times on the way down here. Fudge has blocked Apparition into, out of, and around the Ministry, he thinks Dumbledore could use it to wreak havoc in here – and technically, he’s right. And I’ve already told you, we won’t get clearance to get to the journalists, and that’s presuming we can find and blackmail Scrimgeour to get us that close.”

   Harry took a deep breath. “What about Cassane?”

   “What about him?”

   “He’s the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards! They can’t exactly stop him – or any guests he brings.”

   Tonks paused. “It’s… it could work, presuming you can get a hold of him. He won’t listen to your lawyer this late at night, but he might listen to you. But you’ll have to go in person, and by Portkey.”

   “Why can’t you use the Patronus Charm –”

   “Because we don’t have time to run from my colleagues who would chase us down the second they see a foreign Patronus running down the hall,” Tonks retorted, wordlessly summoning a roll of toilet paper to her hands. “Portus.”

   “So we’ll talk to Cassane –”

   “Wrong, you’ll talk to Cassane,” Tonks interrupted. “I need to get Dumbledore, the rest of the Order –”

   “Take the twins too, if you can,” Harry added. At Tonks’ incredulous expression, he shrugged and tossed his blonde hair back again, showing his ample chest with a sly smile. “You never know what they could bring to this.”

  “And normally I’m the one using my assets to get what I want,” Tonks muttered. “This is so weird… not to mention unfair. And you got used to this too quickly, in my opinion.”

   Harry shrugged, even as the shocking realization of the truth in Tonks’ words rang in his mind. She was right, he had gotten used to it too easily – especially after he had reached his second simulacrum. Maybe that ritual had more effects than I feared…

   “We need to get anything and everything out of Cassane,” Tonks said sharply, cutting through the thoughts racing through Harry’s mind. “Especially anything about that new ‘wizard’ bank. I know there’s something bad about that – namely the fact that I’m only just hearing about it now, and this sort of thing would require weeks of work to figure out. What game is Fudge playing at with it…”

   “We’ll talk more about it later,” Harry said bracingly. “You managed to get my second simulacrum in position?”

   Tonks snorted. “Wasn’t as easy as you made it out to be, but yes, I did. Damn good thing I’m one of the best at Disguise and Concealment.”

   “I’m amazed you had time –”

   Tonks winked at him. “I’m good at what I do, princess.”

   “Hey, I’m not a princess –”

   Tonks placed the toilet paper roll in Harry’s hands, and without warning, pulled him into a deep passionate kiss. Harry’s eyes widened slightly as the image of two beautiful women kissing heavily appeared in the dirty bathroom mirror – and as he felt something flutter in a very different part of his body…

   He barely even noticed the jerk behind his navel…

*          *          *

   “You shouldn’t be here.”

   “Somebody has to be,” Lucius Malfoy said smoothly, turning up from where a tiny book was opened on Kemester battered desk. The man’s face was surprisingly open, but Kemester knew that it was a farce.

   “After all,” Lucius continued smoothly, “somebody has to be here to inform you of our triumph.”

   Kemester didn’t say a word, but his left foot rose – and kicked backwards, to slam the door in Larshall’s shocked face.

   “Everything?” he asked quietly. “You got it all?”

   “It was more a matter of paperwork than anything,” Lucius said with a hint of a shrug as he began to move towards the small darkened window in Kemester’s dilapidated office. “And it’s all thanks to you, Dmitri. You gave us everything we needed.”

   “I found the law –”

   “Dmitri, it was the spirit behind that law that you brought to the table,” Lucius corrected, his eyes gleaming with raw pleasure as his hand brushed along the window sill. “It… inspired us.”

   “Where did you transfer the money?” Kemester asked suddenly, his hand sliding towards his pocket. “And how did you get it?”

   Lucius paused, but his small, smug grin never faltered. “There was a bit of a scuffle, but it wasn’t an issue that couldn’t be dealt with. As for the money… well, new banking institutions require a great deal of capital.”

   “And it’s all legal?” Kemester pursued, his eyes narrowing. “All of it?”

   “Sealed in blood,” Lucius replied cryptically, “another thing I feel indebted for, because without his little victory in the court room against your case, we never would have had his signature for all the documents – or his blood.”

   Kemester’s wand was out and pointed at Lucius in a blur. “I’m sure it is, Malfoy – and you’d do well never to mention that case in this room again.”

   Lucius respectfully bowed his head, but his insufferable smirk never wavered. “Duly noted, but I assume you have another question that we should address?”

   “Good assumption,” Kemester growled, taking another step closer. Lucius, for his credit, did not back down an inch. “The bank… I’m assuming there were issues with the goblins –”

   “A reasonable assumption,” Lucius replied quickly – too quickly.

   “There were issues, weren’t there?”

   “Let’s be reasonable here –”

   Kemester slammed his fist on the desk as he began walking around the desk. “Lucius, you told me the transition would be smooth, that this wouldn’t happen!”

   “The goblins were… reticent about the transfers,” Lucius said tightly, his voice going abruptly cold. “Suffice to say, we didn’t have enough paperwork to satisfy all of their accountants, so –”

   “So you pissed off the one group we didn’t dare target or attack in any way?” Kemester snarled. He could feel a trickle of blood flowing across his cheek, barely visible on his lacerated face, but he didn’t care – it always seemed to happen when he got angry these days. “The one group that I spent months trying to find a way to placate! How many died?”

   “Kemester, I –”

   “HOW MANY?”

   Lucius nearly started at the raw bellow, but his eyes only hardened further. “Eleven.”

   Most of the air rushed out of Kemester’s lungs, and it took an enormous effort for him not to throttle the conceited imbecile standing a few meters away from him. “Eleven. You killed eleven of them. Are you… are you fucking insane, Malfoy? Do you know what’s going to happen?”

   “The Goblin Liaison Office will –”

   “Be absolutely useless, like it’s always been, because you killed eleven of their bankers so you could move a massive amount of capital to a bank set in direct competition to theirs,” Kemester said softly. He could see it playing out in his mind – the retaliation, the attacks, the panic, the disaster that hadn’t been seen for decades – and it was all the fault of Lucius Malfoy. “You’re such a fool.”

   “Listen, Kemester,” Lucius said curtly, “the goblins that died – it was accidental, and no court in this country could convict us of this. And besides, this was all perfectly legal under the law –”

   “Stop talking,” Kemester muttered, turning away from Malfoy to stare at the empty and guttered fireplace. “And get out.”

   “What are you going to –”

   “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do, I’m going to call Scrimgeour and Bones and tell them to seal off Diagon Alley before the goblins retaliate and kill as many wizards as they possibly can,” Kemester replied grimly. “And if you don’t get the fuck out of my office, I’ll just hand you straight to the goblins myself as the instigator – they’ll get their blood, and nobody will have to…”

   His voice trailed off, and his hand suddenly tightened over his wand. In a frightening second, he knew. I knew something wasn’t quite right.

   He bent over slightly, next to the grate in the fireplace, and touched the ashes lightly at the bottom of the grate. The ash smeared on his blackened fingers, but even he could see that the ashes were iron grey – and glistened with their own light in the dimly-lit room.

   “Lucius,” he asked slowly, rising to his feet, “did you use my fireplace?”

   The former Death Eater’s wand was blindingly fast, but Kemester’s wand was already drawn. There was a bang that sounded like a gunshot, and Lucius crumpled against the wall, unconscious with a trickle of blood dribbling down the side of his scalp.

   “You son of a bitch,” Kemester swore, the pieces starting to fall into place. “You Death-Eating fuck. Someone tipped you off I was coming, you knew exactly what to say to delay me, distract me – you wanted me out of the way so…”
   And then the last piece clicked into the puzzle. It didn’t make sense – hell, nothing about the past few hours made the slightest damned bit of sense – but he saw the connection in a single, horrifyingly clear instant.

   “Nymphadora Vuneren… Nymphadora… Nymphadora Tonks,” he said slowly, wild recognition filling his eyes as he began moving towards his door in long, quickening strides. “They got to the Aurors… and she was there since the beginning… oh sweet Merlin’s fuck –”

   “Expelliarmus!”

   He didn’t even see the spell coming, and his wand was torn from his hand as he stepped out into the hallway – into an ambush.

   He dove for another office, but the next spell hit him in mid-step, and despite the near-constant flow of painkillers through his veins, he still howled with pain as the curse erupted across his insides…

   “Hem hem…”

   He tried to blink past the pain, but he couldn’t stop this. He tried to block it out, utilizing every scrap of training he knew, but it wasn’t working – by Merlin, it wasn’t fucking working!

   But despite the haze filling his eyes, he could still see her walking closer and closer, her brilliant magenta robes a greasy blob in his sight, her toad-like face contorted into a disappointed smile.

   “And to think you were doing so well, too,” Dolores Umbridge said disapprovingly, clumsily waving her wand and yanking Kemester to his feet – where two hooded men put wands to his throat. “But I brought you back for a reason, Dmitri, and this… dear me, this is not it. I can’t have you disrupting the Minister’s conference for your wild, unbalanced speculations –”

   She doesn’t know! Kemester thought suddenly, the thought cutting like a hot knife through the sluggish morass of his pain. She doesn’t know Malfoy bungled this – there still might be a chance to save Fudge’s life, she’s devoted enough to him, but why can’t I say it –

   “So I think that it would best for you to return to rehabilitation,” Umbridge finished with a sad nod. “I’m not going to have you interrupt the Minister’s speech, the one that will seal his place in history. Off to the ward with you.”

   The hooded men took a firm hold of Kemester’s arms, and even as he thrashed, he could see the man lurking behind Umbridge, a disgustingly triumphant smile on his smug, swarthy face. And I shouldn’t even be surprised that the slime betrayed me…

   “I’ll kill you, Sanders,” Kemester slurred, rage allowing him to shove words through the curse that roiled through his gut. “I’ll fucking kill you, you traitor! I’ll –”

   He felt a gloved fist slam into his raw temple, and everything went black.

*          *          *

  Sanders smiled and leaned against the wall as they dragged an unconscious Kemester down the darkened hallway, unable to keep the sneer away from his face. It was about time the bastard got brought in. And best of all, he had only needed to inform Umbridge of the situation, not even lifting a finger. It was glorious.

   “So what now, Madam?”

   Umbridge closed Kemester’s office door with a wave of her wand and he heard the click of a lock. “We muster the Aurors and Hit Wizards, and direct them to Hogsmeade,” she said crisply. “We attack the instant Fudge concludes his speech, just as planned. Dumbledore won’t know what hit him. He’ll fall,” she said, her eyes lighting up as she tucked away her wand, “and Hogwarts will be mine.”

*           *          *

   His feet hammered on the rough cobblestones of the narrow path as he ran, his cloak flapping and his wand pulled free, ready for an attack at any second. Even though he had walked the path before, it seemed different now – every tree seemed larger, stretching out over the path, branches like arthritic, clutching fingers…

   Stop it, Harry thought to himself as he picked up his pace. The night’s playing tricks on me, and it doesn’t help that the few lamps Cassane set up are casting shadows all over the place. You’d think a wizard like him would have more lights or something… but then again, he does like his privacy…

   The house came into view, and he breathed easier as he slowed his pace. There was a light in one of the windows, but he wasn’t surprised about that – Cassane seemed to be the type of man to work late on a magical project –

   He froze in mid-step. He was close enough to see through the massive arched window into the sitting room now – and he could see more shadows, silhouetted in the room. Cassane’s shape was recognizable, but there was another, shorter and standing opposite the man, as if they were arguing about something…

   Harry’s breath nearly hitched in his chest as he looked closer. It didn’t make the slightest iota of sense – why the hell was she, of all people, meeting with Nathan Cassane –

   It was only a few steps to the massive oaken door. Harry reached to slam the brass knocker against the wood –

   “You might want to put your wand away, Harry,” Cassane said wryly, as he pulled the door wide, the warm air flowing out of the house in a wave filled with wood smoke and something much more subtly rich that Harry didn’t quite recognize entirely. “You should know that panic has no place in this house. Lord Voldemort can’t even penetrate my walls.”

   Harry scowled as he shoved his wand into his pocket, stepping past Cassane and looking towards the sitting room. “Yeah, Voldemort might not be able to get in, but you just happen to let French quarter-Veela Beauxbatons graduates penetrate?”

   Cassane began to speak, but Harry wasn’t listening – his eyes were fixing on Fleur Delacour. The blonde girl was not wearing the crisp, business robes of a Ministry worker, but instead a scandalously-cut black dress that seemed inches shy of being indecent, complete with daring heels and a panicked expression.

   “Harry, I swear, I can explain –”

   “Well, it had better be a short explanation, because I’m very short on time and patience right now,” Harry growled, stepping behind one of the armchairs and nearly tripping on a pile of battered and dog-eared books as Cassane entered the room, a stern expression on his face. “I’ve got a lot on my mind, and the last thing I need is you involved with… involved with –”

   “Harry!”

   Cassane cut off Fleur’s protestations in mid-word as he raised a hand. “Rest assured, Harry, this is not what it appears. She is here seeking asylum – thanks to your plan, I might add.”

   Harry’s gaze snapped back to Cassane, who was already moving back to his leather armchair by the fire. A small tumbler of whiskey was setting on the side table, but Harry ignored it as his eyes narrowed.

   “What are you talking about?”

   “Why don’t the two of you sit down on the couch?” Cassane said, his voice light as he gestured towards the large leather sofa in the room. In an instant, the pile of books and mingled Muggle electrical equipment sitting there rose into the air and zoomed out the door with a rustle of papers and crackling of electricity.

   Fleur sat down immediately, nervously toying with the fastening on her purse where Harry guessed was her wand. Harry held back his frown, trying to remain expressionless as he stepped around the chair and slowly sat down next to her, his every motion filled with suspicion. It was a bit of a tight fit – and Fleur’s outfit made it all the more difficult – but Harry’s eyes didn’t leave Cassane.

  “You owe me an explanation, if you aren’t going to help me.”

   “I owe you precisely nothing, Harry,” Cassane retorted, picking up his glass. “Frankly, it’s in the best interests of us both that we act upon recent events – and that you are aware of the consequences of your actions. I could have only dreamed of such knowledge when I was your age – not like I would have ever gone to look for it.”

   “So you’re saying you already know about what Fudge is announcing?” Harry asked incredulously. “And you didn’t tell me that he was going to announce this? The creation of a new bank and a declaration of war? You didn’t think I might want to –”

   “Fudge told me himself tonight,” Cassane replied crisply, folding his arms. “He wanted me to stand beside him while he makes the announcement. And then Miss Delacour’s arrival but an hour ago only confirmed the matter – many forces are on the move, and not just the Ministry.”

   “Harry, I swear, I would have told you as soon as I could, but I needed to find a place to hide,” Fleur interjected quickly, her eyes pleading as they met Harry’s stony expression. “It was… merde, I don’t even know how to describe it! The paperwork just started changing – it was magic, I’m sure of it – and then the Senior Undersecretary came in and told us that the Ministry was going to be doing ‘reconstruction’.”

   “So you ran?”

   “Harry, they thought I was a goblin sympathizer!” Fleur exclaimed, her cheeks going pink. “I… I mean, I worked at Gringotts, I’m a foreigner in the country – the perfect bouc émissaire for the Ministry?”

   “I’m sorry, what?”

   “Scapegoat,” Cassane muttered darkly.

   “So I packed all my things and… and I came here,” Fleur finished in a rush, her eyes darting between Cassane and Harry. “I didn’t know where else to go – it would be too dangerous to go to the Muggle embassy with my paperwork, and it wasn’t like I could go to the Ministry –”

   “But why would you come here?”

   “I… I didn’t know where else –”

   “And you let her in?” Harry asked incredulously, turning to Cassane.

   The older man only shrugged and winked at Harry. “What can I say? I may have a bit of a weakness for French girls.” Cassane shot Harry another wink, but Harry noticed that the lightness of tone didn’t extend to the man’s eyes. He just lied to my face – but what would be his motivation for keeping Fleur around…

   “So the Ministry’s backing this new bank over Gringotts?” Harry asked after a few seconds of thought, deciding to come back to Fleur later with Cassane privately.

   “It’s been long in coming,” Cassane said quietly. “Many of the administrators and Wizengamot officials don’t like the fact that goblins have a monopoly on wizarding commercial banking – not to mention an enormous amount of stored capital that they can use as leverage. It was only a matter of time.”

   “And when Fudge passed his new laws today, allowing the breaking of the monopole, dozens of wizarding accounts were emptied forcibly to be transferred to the new bank,” Fleur whispered. “According to a rumor I heard, the goblins didn’t even know what hit them.”

   “And that means it was an inside job,” Cassane finished, rising slowly to his feet and facing the fire, sending a few jets of sparks into the flames with prods of his wand. “The new bank executives – most probably wizard defectors from Gringotts – likely bought off or coerced enough goblins to break through backdoor security and bring the Grandmother Nifflers in, because there’s no way in hell they got that many goblins on their side –”

   “I’m sorry, the what?”

   “Giant, overgrown versions of those scavenging pests that are used when transporting gold in huge quantities,” Cassane said, a hint of a grin on his face. “Originally bred in Algeria and shipped over here, they have these sacs under their jaw where they can swallow and release gold on command. To move all that gold magically would take a prodigious amount of skill, and unless Lord Voldemort went in there himself, they would have had no chance of getting it out without those beasts. Also handy considering that once released, the goblins would have no easy way of bringing a Grandmother Niffler back under their control without a wand.”

   “Wait a second, how much gold are we talking about?” Harry asked, a note of fear creeping into his voice, despite all of his efforts to keep it out.

   “In the millions of Galleons,” Fleur said unsteadily. “And judging from what I remember of goblin security, if there was a fight in the vaults…”

   “Who knows how much money is now missing and unaccounted for,” Cassane said grimly, turning back towards Harry. “There’s going to be hell to pay for this…”

   “Hang on, what about my vault?” Harry asked frantically. “I mean, they might not have my key –”

   “The goblins will have a master,” Fleur interrupted. “But there’s no chance of them withdrawing any of your money without your blood-sealed permission…”

   Her voice trailed off, because Harry had just shot to his feet, his eyes wild with realization.

   “They have my blood,” he whispered. “The paper I signed and sealed, back when I pled guilty on those charges… oh fuck, they have my blood, and if the Ministry supported it all, it’s all going straight into Malfoy’s pocket…”

   “Harry, there’s no guarantee –”

   He could hardly breathe, could hardly believe what he was hearing. His hands were shaking, but his eyes never lost their focus - if anything, it all seemed so clear - as the older man sat down wearily in the armchair next to the fire. 
   "Yes," Cassane said quietly, vacantly, his voice faintly echoing across the darkened room, finally meeting Harry's eyes with his own. "That's been their plan all along, and this time you can't stop them. You're going to lose, Harry. You're going to lose... everything."

   “Merde, no, Harry!” Fleur exclaimed, shooting to her feet as quickly as her heels would allow. “There’s no guarantee –”

   “If Malfoy’s behind it, there is a fucking guarantee!” Harry snarled, slamming his fist against the fireplace mantel. “I should have killed that rat-bastard when I had the chance –”

   “Right now, murdering Lucius Malfoy might not be the easiest way to resolve the biggest problem we might have,” Cassane said sharply, rising to his feet as he emptied his tumbler. “As I am quite certain any vaults of Ministry gold will have long been emptied by now, the goblins will likely turn to a more violent approach.”

   “Fudge’s announcement,” Harry said savagely. “We should just let the goblins kill him –”

   “That’s the last thing we’d want to do right now!” Cassane interrupted, fixing Harry with a disapproving stare. “If I’m correct, you’ve opened your own negotiations with the goblins, am I correct, Harry?”

   “Yeah, through her,” Harry said, his gaze snapping to Fleur. His eyes suddenly brightened as he understood what Cassane wanted. “Do you think she can –”

   “All we need is time right now,” Cassane said softly. “Miss Delacour, go to the goblins and tell them that they have traitors in their ranks. They’ve doubtlessly already realized this, but it might buy us more time if they cull their ranks instead of slaughtering innocent witches and wizards in a rampage through Diagon Alley.”

   “But… but they won’t listen to me!” Fleur protested, her eyes wide. “I’m français, and not even full-human –”

   “And you’re in this position for exactly the same reason that they are, or close enough to it,” Cassane replied curtly. “And if you don’t hurry, a lot of people are going to die.”

   “Go, Fleur, and be careful,” Harry said firmly, trying desperately to ignore the horrified expression on her face as she left the room.

   The front door slammed loudly, leaving Harry and Cassane alone in the house.

   “Her words won’t be enough,” Cassane said softly, “especially if any goblins died. She’s making a steep accusation, accusing one of them of this brand of treason.”

   “So what are we supposed to do?” Harry said angrily, rounding on Cassane. “As long as you continue to stand on the sidelines here –”

   “Harry, there’s nothing more I can do!” Cassane snapped as he strode across his foyer into his drawing room. The fire exploded into the grate with only a glance, and Harry could see the brass instruments begin whirling around the room in a haze of magic. “The goblins won’t listen to me anymore than they’ll listen to you – I’ve had issues with them in the past, one reason I don’t keep any of my money in Gringotts. And one of the reasons I don’t think this new bank idea is that bad at all.”

   “What?”

   “The magical economy, if it wants to modernize, needs competition!” Cassane exclaimed, his face filled with concentration as he raised his wand. Dozens of candles exploded into light along the walls, and Harry could see books leaping off the shelves and spreading themselves on the cluttered table. “The goblins, with their monopoly, have been stifling that for generations. If anything, this plan shows Voldemort’s brilliance – he comes with an idea that would be ingenious for the wizarding world follow, and then he perverts it to his own ends. Still doesn’t stop making the idea good, though!”

   “They took all my gold –”

   “Harry, you’re going to have to face the facts here,” Cassane said, jabbing his wand at the massive map of the world nailed to the wall. All at once, dozens of green and orange regions lit up across it, most stretching across Europe and North America, although a few patches appeared around the very tip of South America and the Far East. One lone green light even appeared in Antarctica. “The green regions on this map represent the areas where there is a modicum of magical society, and the orange regions represent regions where there are enough goblins to be a problem. Gringotts is mostly global – patchy in the Americas, but so is magical civilization over there. The point is, if this new bank gets a hold, we aren’t talking about a localized goblin rebellion. Oh no, this’ll go international – fast. The other Ministries will see it and want to try it for themselves, and with Voldemort’s agents across the world, it’s only a matter of time. We need to defuse the situation here.

   “And that means diplomacy like the International Confederation of Wizards hasn’t had to deal with since the eighteenth century,” Cassane finished, lowering his wand and turning back towards Harry. “And given how everything is hitting the fan – once again, Voldemort knows what the hell he’s doing – odds are you aren’t getting your money back anytime soon.”

   “I’m not going to let Malfoy get away with this!” Harry said furiously.

   “I’m not saying you should!” Cassane retorted. “But this has rapidly become big – very big. This could very quickly spark a war if we are not exceedingly careful – and right now, killing Lucius Malfoy would only make things worse. The man is predictable, and while Voldemort is not, he is a factor we can manipulate to our advantage. What we need to do when approaching a problem such as this one is eliminate those things that could cause unpredictability. I’m assuming you’ve already contacted Dumbledore?”

   Harry nodded once, his mind whirling as Cassane pulled open another book and began reading very quickly.

   “The goblins are predictable – they hate us passionately, and that makes their actions and thoughts easy to track,” Cassane continued, his voice getting faster and faster as he flipped open another book. “The press, on the other hand – both domestic and international papers cannot know about the new bank until the goblins have been calmed sufficiently to make this clean. By forcing the transfers – which he assuredly knows about by now – he’s made his biggest blunder yet –”

   “I think he’s more focused on Dumbledore than the banks –”

   “To his peril,” Cassane muttered. “The Prophet –”

   “Cuffe’s been arrested and I’ve already dealt with him,” Harry added quickly. “He won’t be a problem.

   Cassane raised an eyebrow skeptically. “And how did you manage that with such alacrity, Mr. Potter?”

   “Persuasion,” Harry replied shortly, his eyes shooting back to the map. “So I guess the only thing I can really handle now is Fudge and any other Death Eaters that Voldemort might have getting in the way – and we have until nine this morning to neutralize them.”

   “The issue will be the foreign journalists,” Cassane said quietly, pulling a quill from his desk and beginning to scrawl a list across a scrap of yellowed paper. “I’ll speak to the embassies about getting them out of the country – it’ll raise eyebrows, but it could be worse. But Fudge won’t just let them go.”

   “Then we make him let them go,” Harry growled. “Tonight, before anything happens, we get them all out, and Fudge won’t be the wiser.”

   Cassane paused, his quill dripping slowly onto the page, leaving a hint of a splotch. “It’s the only thing you can do at this point, particularly given the security surrounding Fudge – you’d never get close enough to bring him down personally. You do realize, though,” he added slowly, “that I can’t be seen to assist you in this matter, given my position – and nor can Dumbledore, if he wishes to protect any support he still has within the Ministry”

   “I understand.”

   A slow smile was crept onto Cassane’s face. “You already have a plan.”

   “Enough of one,” Harry muttered.

   “And my assistance –”

   “Wasn’t even expected.” Harry said coolly, taking the list of journalists from Cassane’s hand.

   “You do remind me of your father, Harry.”

   “Perhaps,” Harry muttered, putting aside the sudden rush of emotion he heard at the words. “Just make sure to tell me something about him if I get back alive. I’d hate to meet him and have nothing to talk about.”