“You have a court date.”

“When?” Harry asked, looking up from the newspapers strewn across his bed. Most were copies of last month’s Daily Prophets, which Mr. Weasley and Sirius had been saving for the crosswords and for the occasional news article surrounding Dumbledore. Harry had asked for them a day after his conversation with Sirius.

“Fourteenth of August,” Sirius replied with a heavy shrug. “Kingsley just sent us the information from the Auror Office.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “So does that mean I’m being charged in Auror court, or the full Wizengamot?”

“Kingsley spoke to Scrimgeour about that yesterday, and he hasn't decided yet,” Sirius said bitterly, sitting down next to a pile of discarded newspapers. “Turns out Scrimgeour got an earful from Amelia Bones in regards to this mess, and he wasn’t too thrilled about that. Dmitri Kemester’s been making quite a stir in the Ministry right now about how the Auror office is ‘interfering in Hit Wizard affairs’.”

Harry snorted. “I bet they’ve heard that before.”

“Unfortunately, people are actually listening now, considering that you’re such a high-profile criminal,” Sirius remarked wryly. Harry gave him an exasperated look, but his godfather’s sardonic tone never dimmed. “Scrimgeour’s also not too happy that you’re not sitting in an Auror security cell, but instead at ‘Kingsley’s private lockdown,’ as he called it.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Just bloody wonderful. I’m surprised Kingsley managed to stretch the truth that far.”

“With all due honesty, so am I,” Sirius admitted heavily. “He’s not happy that he’s had to lie to Scrimgeour on Dumbledore’s orders already.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Really? Dumbledore told Shacklebolt to lie to the Head of his department?”

“Yep,” Sirius said with a weak grin, shifting in his seat and knocking some newspapers to the floor. “Nothing too serious yet – and nothing I can really tell you about either, it’s Order stuff – but Scrimgeour’s been asking some funny questions, one’s that Kingsley really can’t answer well. And Scrimgeour’s not stupid by any stretch of the mind – he knows that something is going on.”

“And he doesn’t believe Dumbledore?” Harry said quietly, already knowing the answer.

Sirius shrugged. “Like I said, he’s likes playing political games, and right now the public mood is against the view that Voldemort is back. Scrimgeour might believe personally that Voldemort’s back, but he’s not going to say anything to anyone, and he’s certainly not going to take our side.”

Harry sighed with mingled frustration and disgust as he picked up the newspapers Sirius had knocked on the floor. “Well, I didn’t expect anything better, did I?”

“The plan’s still on, then?” Sirius asked, closing the door with a shove from the side of his foot.

“Well, it won’t be if I don’t find anything in these damned Prophets!” Harry snarled, crumpling up another newspaper and throwing it aside. “No clues, no implications, not a hint of anything that might implicate Scrimgeour! You’d think that the Prophet would jump all over that kind of thing!”

“Harry, we both expected this,” Sirius said bracingly “You knew you wouldn’t have much of a chance finding mainstream information about Scrimgeour’s dealings. And besides, he likes to keep away from the press as much as possible – or at least as far as he can control. And this is all assuming that’s Scrimgeour’s got any secret dealings at all.”

Harry frowned. “It’s a possibility, right?”

“Nothing more than that,” Sirius replied, his brow furrowing as he thought. “There was a lot of… well, creative financing coming out of the First War, and I would bet Scrimgeour at least put his hands in it. That would be the kind of evidence you would need – and it would hamstring his political career if it got out.”

“It’s also the evidence that would prove impossible to find. This entire bluff is going to be worthless if I don’t have something to back it up,” Harry muttered darkly, pulling over another paper from the stack. “And I’m running out of time, if I want to get into Gringotts tomorrow.”

Sirius whistled softly. “So you’re going with the accelerated schedule that I suggested?”

“It makes sense. The more time Scrimgeour has for the message to sink in, the more effective the blackmail will be,” Harry replied, looking up again at Sirius.

“He won’t like being threatened, and as you pointed out, telling him earlier gives him more time to cover his tracks.”

Harry gave a bitter chuckle. “Why would he even bother? Nobody cares enough about what happened fourteen, fifteen years ago to look – unless they’ve got everything to lose.”

Like me. He left the words unspoken, but Sirius didn’t need to read minds to know what Harry was thinking.

“We should talk about Gringotts again,” Harry said, changing the topic as he pulled a scrap of paper up from the floor. “You talked to that Tonks girl last night after the meeting, right?”

Sirius nodded. “She heard your story. Was relatively impressed, too, though you’re not going to get her to say that – at least not publicly.”

“Not with Dumbledore, Snape, and Shacklebolt in the room, you’re not,” Harry growled. He quickly reined in his temper, though – aimless frustration wasn’t going to get him anywhere. “So is she going to help?”

“She’s got time off, so the answer’s likely a ‘yes’,” Sirius replied, relaxing on one of the few clear spots of Harry’s bed. “And she’s not thrilled that there are a lot of unknowns in this plan.”

“I’m not thrilled with the number of unknowns in this plan, believe me,” Harry grumbled with frustration, carefully shoving aside the obvious fact that the entire plan was based upon finding something that might not even exist. “But it’s not like either of us have great information on the inner workings of Gringotts. Do you know if the goblins can detect Invisibility Cloaks at the doors, or just in the vaults?”

Sirius shrugged helplessly. “Harry, I know as much as anyone – and that means I don’t have a damned clue. James never even tried breaking in under the Cloak.”

“This isn’t breaking in,” Harry said sharply, raising a finger. “This is entering without being seen. There is a difference, you said.”

“Not to the Aurors or Magical Law Enforcement, and likely not the goblins either,” Sirius said grimly. “I thought about that last night: what if there is a member of the Department in Gringotts? They won’t hesitate to arrest you on sight!”

“I thought they couldn’t do that,” Harry said suspiciously.

“It would get you in their custody, and they’d likely let the Goblin Liaison Office work out the issues later,” Sirius said with disgust as pushed his long hair away from his face. “But that’s not the only issue, you know.”

Harry put a hand to his forehead, trying to stave off the inevitable headache. “I know, Sirius, I thought of it too. Even if I did find Welmon in the bank, there’s no way I could make him talk without Veritaserum or the Imperius Curse. Isn’t it against some number of laws for financial institutions to betray their customers?”

Sirius let out a long breath. “Harry, I can’t honestly say I know. I don’t know a lot about wizarding finance. You’d be better off talking to Arthur or Kingsley about that.”

“Well, those are two people I can’t exactly go to, Sirius,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “And there’s still one other person working at Gringotts that could be an ally.”

“Fleur Delacour, right,” Sirius said tiredly. “Look, Harry, I know you might trust her, but there’s no telling right now how much access to information she might have. She might be an ally if you could convince her to help you, but we don’t even know her position at Gringotts, let alone who she’s permitted to talk to or which documents she might have. And the type of thing that you’re looking for –”

“Would require more specialization to be able to identify successfully, yes, Sirius, I get it!” Harry finally snapped. “But what other choice do I have?”

“Harry, calm down,” Sirius said in an even voice. “Don’t forget you can trust me, and I’m trying to help you. Look, why don’t you come down and get some lunch, all right? Get away from the papers and talk to your friends. You haven’t said a word to Ron or Hermione since yesterday morning! They’re your friends, Harry.”

“And what exactly am I supposed to say, Sirius?” Harry replied, frustration clear in his voice. “That I’ve been plotting to break into Gringotts and steal blackmail on the Head of the Auror Department and his executives? Not exactly a conversation starter.”

Sirius put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I don’t have all the answers, Harry,” he said slowly, “but neither do you. You need your friends, if only for some peace of mind.”

“I need to be able to trust them first,” Harry said, turning so that his eyes met Sirius’. “And I know very well that they won’t approve of what I’m doing –”

“But I’m sure if you told them, they’d understand,” Sirius said calmly. “Look, I didn’t like half of the things James or Remus ever did, and I know they felt the same about some of the things I did too.”

“I have to wonder what it was that you did,” Harry muttered. Sirius gave a bitter laugh.

“Most of it was stupid, but there were times… well, during wars, you have to make hard choices. And as much as Fudge wants to deny it, this is a war. Voldemort’s not lying down and dying just because we’re here.” Sirius’ hand tightened on Harry’s shoulders.

“You’re right,” Harry said quietly. “This is a war, and the only way we can win is if I’m ready.”

“And part of that is making sure you remember what you’re fighting for,” Sirius replied, just as quietly. “Let’s go down for lunch. Tonks dropped by, and she wants to meet you in person before tomorrow anyways.”

Harry looked at the papers for a long few seconds before finally sighing and getting to his feet. “It’s not like I’m going to make much more progress here anyways,” he muttered.

“You’ll be surprised at the things you notice with a full stomach.”

------

Sirius was just drawing out his wand to wash the dishes when he heard a friendly voice speak up from behind him.

“Mind if I give you a hand?”

Sirius smiled as he turned towards Nymphadora Tonks, a surprisingly wry smile on her heart-shaped face, her pink hair completely disheveled. “I dunno, Tonks, you might damage some of the crockery. And judging by your hair, you had a hard enough struggle getting through lunch.”

“Oh, shove it,” she replied good-naturedly, drawing her own wand and jabbing at the dishes. “Given the way you cook, you can’t be surprised.”

“It’s not my fault Molly’s not here. She said she needed to pick up some decent food.”

“It’s a shame, because she’s a damn sight better at cooking than you are.”

“So what did you think of Harry?” Sirius asked in a low voice, changing the subject quickly. He doubted they would be overheard: Mundungus Fletcher was telling stories, and even Harry was chuckling, albeit somewhat distractedly.

Tonks cocked an eyebrow. “Seems completely ordinary, although,” she lowered her own voice, “if what you told me is true, he’s holding a lot of anger beneath the surface.”

“Nearly exploded on me upstairs,” Sirius murmured, his eyes flickering over to Harry again. “He doesn’t know who to trust.”

Tonks snorted. “That makes two of us.” Grabbing Sirius by the sleeve, she pulled them both into the darkened, cramped pantry.

“In the closet already, Tonks?”

“Stow it, Sirius, and besides, I’m your cousin, and that’s entirely twisted. I want to talk to you about this plan of yours.”

“Most of its Harry’s idea, not mine,” Sirius said with a shrug. “He thinks fast when he’s in trouble.”

“Trouble is understating what’s going on at the Ministry,” Tonks said with a shake of her head, her cheerful expression fading somewhat. “There’s been rivalry between the Aurors and the Hit Wizards before, but this case? Merlin’s pants, you’d think somebody painted a golden arrow on Harry with the inscription ‘Galleons here!’ ”

“That was to be expected as soon as Kingsley took him in, though,” Sirius replied, frowning slightly. “Has Scrimgeour been talking to you?”

“His inquiries have been higher up,” Tonks whispered. “Mostly about Kingsley, really.”

“Because he’s the one ‘holding’ Harry?” Sirius asked sardonically.

“More like because Scrimgeour thinks that Kingsley’s making a power grab.”

Sirius froze before letting out a whistle. “That’s not good.”

“ ‘Course, Kingsley’s got more integrity than to try and double-cross his own department Head, but Scrimgeour doesn’t know that.” She gave a bitter laugh. “At least Harry’s logic’s right on: Scrimgeour’s a politician, through and through. You should hear Mad-Eye talk about him.”

“Old enemies?”

“More like rivals,” Tonks replied thoughtfully. “Alastor was a bit older, more experienced, while Scrimgeour was the newcomer who was smart enough to snatch the department after Crouch and his cronies went out. Mad-Eye was the one who was always up for it, too, but he never wanted it either. Probably better in retrospect that he didn’t get it.”

“True enough,” Sirius agreed with a shiver. “Mad-Eye and politics wouldn’t get along well at all.” A sudden thought struck him. “This could be easier than we thought: does Moody have any information on Scrimgeour?”

Tonks snorted. “Nothing solid, or else Scrimgeour would have been thrown out years ago.”

“Mad-Eye hates him that much?”

“It goes back to the Rosier case,” Tonks said, leaning against a large stack of Butterbeer cases that Arthur Weasley had hauled in a week earlier. “Were you on the team that took Evan Rosier down?”

Sirius shivered again, this time with disgust. “No, the team that got him had Mad-Eye and Frank Longbottom on it. I was in the reserve group, and we got there only after the Death Eaters were all gone or dead.” He remembered Rosier from school days – the young man had a horrible reputation with girls, and was known to be plotting to be a Death Eater. Unsurprisingly, he had joined up right out of Hogwarts, and had become one of Voldemort’s most reviled Death Eaters. If only I had been on the team to get him… then our little score could have been settled, he thought to himself. But I proved you wrong – I got the last laugh after all, because at least I’m still alive.

“Well, Mad-Eye got the kill – blew off half his face to get it – and that earned him a lot of Galleons,” Tonks said. “Long story short, a bunch of snooty pureblood accountants told him that under the legal terms, Alastor wasn’t entitled to the bounty because of some twisted legal loophole in Rosier’s will.”

Sirius shook his head. “Mad-Eye wouldn’t have been happy with that.”

“He got over it,” Tonks said with a shrug, “but what he didn’t get over as quickly was when he found out that most of that money still ended up in Auror vaults – just not his.”

Sirius’ eyes narrowed. “Scrimgeour?”

“He was involved in the Rosier case, or at least Alastor said he was,” Tonks said apologetically. “He was angrier with the accountants – said they didn’t have any duty to mess around in Auror business – but he always suspected Scrimgeour might have had something to do with the money…”

Suddenly, Sirius froze, a crashing wave of realization and elation surging through him. If it could be true, we could have a lead on what we need…

Peeking out of the pantry, he quickly caught Harry’s eye as he was putting his dishes on the wet counter. With a quick gesture, he motioned Harry over.

“What’s the problem?” Harry asked quickly as he saw Tonks in the cramped pantry – even more cramped with a third person inside of it. “Is the mission still on?”

“Tonks,” Sirius asked, his voice holding a strangely contemplative tone in it, “you said that Mad-Eye told you that he suspected Scrimgeour was involved in the Rosier case, right?”

“Correct,” Tonks said suspiciously. “Sirius, where are you going with –”

But Sirius raised a hand, silencing her instantly. “And that there had been accountants involved from where, exactly? Department of Magical Finance?”

Tonks frowned, a strange expression on her normally cheerful face. “I doubt it, personally. Alastor didn’t trust that department – still doesn’t, as a matter of fact. Calls them a group of cheating bastards on a fairly regular occasion whenever they try to tax his pension.”

“So the transfer would have gone through Gringotts?”

Tonks nodded.

Sirius finally grinned. “I think we might have a lead on our blackmail, Harry.”

“Still doesn’t solve the problem of where the documentation would be,” Harry said testily.

“But we have a starting point, now,” Sirius said, talking faster and faster. “My uncle Cygnus Black married Druella Rosier, and I know Vesparian Welmon handled Uncle Cygnus’ finances too. Thus it only makes sense that one of Welmon’s affiliates at Gringotts did the rest of the accounting for Rosier’s family!”

“That’s reaching, Sirius,” Tonks said, but her hand was on her lip as she considered the option.

“But if Harry were to get his hands on any of the financial reports Welmon did for Cygnus and Druella, he could potentially track the accountant that worked with the rest of the Rosier family, particularly if he found the papers documenting the dowry Druella paid when she married him.”

“Those papers are likely half a century old, if not older,” Tonks said, both her eyebrows going up now. “They won’t be in Welmon’s regular storage…”

Sirius shook his head. “Welmon’s not like the other accountants at Gringotts – he’s an obsessive record-keeper, and he doesn’t trust the goblins farther than he can see them. If I remember correctly, he has massive mahogany cabinets in his main office which detail all the finances he’s ever processed.” His eyes glittered. “If Harry got into one of those cabinets, he could find the paper work and trace it into the deep storage rooms.”

“Won’t those be guarded?” Harry asked skeptically.

Sirius snorted. “Are you kidding? These aren’t the main vaults - just centuries of financial documents, piled in massive crates, all meticulously organized and chronicled. Harry, nobody cares enough to go there – who would even want to? It’s a clerk’s nightmare, and I doubt even the goblins would care much to go poking their long noses through that whole mess.”

Harry was about to speak, but he paused in mid-word and looked around carefully before lowering his voice.

“This is all great, but how am I going to get out?”

Tonks smiled widely. “Preferably the same way you came in.”

“They’re bound to know that something’s amiss by then,” Sirius reasoned, frowning. “I hadn’t even considered an exit strategy…”

But a grin was widening on Harry’s face.

“What?”

“I know how I can escape,” Harry whispered.

“How?”

Harry’s grin turned into a twisted smile. “The twins.”

* * *

“And you are certain of these developments, Lucius?”

“Absolutely, my Lord. I have spoken with those in the highest echelons of the Ministry, and it is indeed true.”

“So Harry Potter has shed blood,” Voldemort mused, more to himself than to his gathered Death Eaters in the darkened cavern under Nott Hall. The Death Eater could hardly refuse his lord’s request for a short visit, and the secrecy enchantments over the manor were some of the best in England.

“Furthermore,” he continued, his voice growing slightly louder, “he is not being held at the Ministry for his crimes.”

Lucius inclined his head. “True, my Lord.”

Voldemort turned abruptly to a hooded figure near the shadowy edges of the room. “So, Snape? Which Auror holds the great Harry Potter in custody?”

“The Order of the Phoenix has recruited many in the Ministry,” Snape said in a low voice, not meeting the Dark Lord’s eyes. “He is in the custody of many.”

“And is likely heavily guarded,” Voldemort hissed. “No, it is not yet time for us to show our hands by attacking Potter en route. We must concentrate on other goals while Dumbledore is distracted. Did he take Potter’s newest escapade well, Snape?”

“He was… disappointed in Potter’s actions,” Snape replied slowly, “but I was not privy to all of their conversation either. I am not yet aware of how Dumbledore’s plans have changed.”

“Become aware,” Voldemort growled, “or I will find myself another spy. You are dismissed.”

Snape gave a short bow respectfully before Disapparating with a tiny pop.

The Dark Lord turned back to his remaining Death Eaters. There were only a few, but he knew they were loyal – he had culled the dissent from his ranks early.

“Yaxley, how goes the operations around Azkaban?”

“Conversing with the Dementors is difficult, my Lord,” the brutal-faced man replied, his voice gravelly and echoing in the darkened room, “but I am confident we’ll be able to drive them to our cause. Azkaban will soon be yours, but it may require personal attention to seal the deal.”

Voldemort nodded. He had expected this. “Tell the Dementors the negotiations will continue, but there will be a short delay. This unexpected opportunity with Potter’s trial will be a distraction for the Ministry, and a time in which we can act nearly uninhibited.”

The room was silent, despite the sudden shift in plans. Many of the Death Eaters shifted with surprise – one of the few things that their Lord had spoken of was his desire to claim Azkaban and free his loyal Death Eaters. What had changed?

Voldemort put a single finger to his chin as turned back towards Lucius Malfoy. “Ah, Malfoy, I have decided that you will play a central role in my newest plan. An opportunity to redeem yourself for your failures.”

“I will serve,” Lucius said swiftly, but the hesitation in his voice was audible.

“First, you will contact our mutual friend Snape and ask for him to deliver to you two vials of Polyjuice Potion from his private stores. If I am correct, he will have likely brewed some for his sixth year Potions students.”

The look of confusion on Malfoy’s face quickly passed. “It will be done.”

“There is more,” Voldemort said sharply. “Tomorrow, I want you to go to the Ministry and speak to one Cassius Croaker. Offer to invite him for lunch on August 14th. As he walks away from you, wordlessly Summon three hairs from his head. Make sure you are not seen while doing this.”

“A simple task, my Lord, but did you not want me at Potter’s trial?”

“Potter’s trial is meaningless now,” Voldemort said with a wave of his hand. “My plan has changed.”

His lipless mouth curled into a grin of satisfaction, his eyes gleaming red with triumph. “It is time,” he hissed, his voice carrying through the entire hall, “to take matters into my own hands.”