The alarm clock only managed to let out a single shrill note before Harry’s hand closed over it. With a groan, he quickly shut it off and set it back onto his bedside table. I don’t care what Sirius thinks, he thought savagely to himself as he dragged his legs out of bed, I don’t want to be getting up at six in the bloody morning!

He understood the reasoning that Sirius and Tonks had provided, even though he didn’t entirely agree with it. Sure, there might be less traffic at the bank at this time in the morning, but that means that the goblins won’t be distracted by customers… hell, this is tricky anyway I think of it…

It didn’t take him long to get ready. He had decided on Muggle clothes – it wasn’t like he had many choices in that department – and he already possessed the few other tools that he knew would be essential. Wand, Invisibility Cloak, that knife from Sirius, one of Fred’s fireworks… this should be good, I think.

Ron gave a tremendous grunt from the bed. Harry paused as he looked at his snoring friend. It’s better that he doesn’t know, he finally thought, putting his hand on the doorknob. The less people know, the better, and I don’t Ron dragged into this… especially considering the fact that he’d likely tell his father, and Mr. Weasley would tell Dumbledore. Then I wouldn’t have a chance. He hadn’t told Hermione for the same reasons, but to his surprise, he felt surprisingly less guilty. It makes sense, in a twisted sort of way, he reasoned, that I’m feeling worse about Hermione than Ron – after all, Hermione wouldn’t hesitate to tell Dumbledore herself.

Swallowing the lump of guilt in his throat – and the bile that came with it – he silently unlocked the door and slid out, quietly descending the stairs.

Sirius and Tonks were already sitting at the table with a stack of toast. Much to Harry’s shock, Lupin was nursing a cup of coffee by the counter.

“Harry!” the former professor said, startled as he saw Harry freeze on the staircase. “What are you doing up so early?”

Harry threw a furious look at Sirius. “I thought you said –”

“There was nothing I could do about it, Harry,” Sirius cut him off quietly, not meeting his godson’s eyes. “He doesn’t know yet.”

“Good, because that’s the way it’s going to stay,” Harry replied coldly, even as a pang of disgust shot through his heart. I’m so sorry, Lupin, but I know better than anyone that I can’t trust you with this…

“Are you going somewhere?” Lupin asked, setting his coffee mug down on the counter with a hollow clink. “Is that why Tonks is here?”

“Couldn’t you have just believed it when I told you I got off duty late?” Tonks asked with exasperation.

“Professor,” Harry said with frustration, walking up to the table and sitting down heavily, “I can’t tell you. It’s nothing that you’ve done… hell, that’s exactly it. You have done nothing, and that’s the reason I can’t trust you with this, one way or another.”

Lupin went pale, as if Harry had clubbed him across the face. “Harry, when have I ever given you a reason not to trust me?”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s been when you’ve been sitting on the fence through this whole mess, giving me exactly nothing,” Harry replied curtly. “No help, no support, not even a strong objection to anything I’ve said!”

Lupin looked as if he had been slapped. “I’ve always been on your side, Harry!”

“Whenever it hasn’t conflicted with Dumbledore’s,” Harry replied bitingly.

“Harry,” Sirius began. “We shouldn’t start this –”

“You’re absolutely right, Sirius, we shouldn’t start this,” Harry said, his eyes still fixed on his former Defense Professor. “We shouldn’t have had to start this. But now it’s started, and I can’t afford to back down now.” He pulled a piece of toast off of the stack and began slathering margarine on it. “So how about it, Professor?”

“I don’t know what you want me to say –”

“Say something!” Harry snarled, getting to his feet. “Anything, damn it! Have a Merlin-forsaken opinion for yourself for once!”

Tonks looked quickly at Harry, a peculiar look on her face as she glanced back and forth between him, a white-faced Lupin, and Sirius, who was watching Harry with concern and frustration written across his face.

“Shouldn’t…” she began, trying to keep her tone light and cut through the tension in the room, “shouldn’t we, ah, get going?”

“Absolutely,” Harry replied flatly, finally turning away from Lupin as he pulled another slice of toast from the pile. “Come on, Tonks, let’s go before this gets ugly.”

“Harry…” Lupin whispered. “What happened to you? What did I do?”

Harry turned back at the edge of the stairwell only to give a bitter laugh. “Real life, in all of its brutal honesty, happened to me, Professor. Be sure to send word when it happens to you.”

And with that, he headed up the stairs. Tonks, her hair colour shifting from bright pink to a dark shade of magenta, followed, glancing back once at the two men in the kitchen behind them.

* * *

“Do you know where they’re going?” Lupin asked quietly.

Sirius nodded as he took a swig from his goblet. “Yes.”

“And you’re not going to tell me?”

“I swore to Harry that I wouldn’t.”

“He’s putting himself in danger again, isn’t he?”

“Depends how you classify danger,” Sirius replied evasively as he picked up the paper.

“This hasn’t something to do with that plan he was talking about two days ago, doesn’t it? Something to do with Scrimgeour –”

Sirius tossed down his paper and glowered up at his closest friend. “Look, Moony, what do you want me to say? I swore to Harry that I wouldn’t tell anyone he couldn’t trust, and you’re in that group. It’s his plan, not mine. I just helped iron out a few of the wrinkles with Tonks, that’s it.”

“Does Dumbledore know?” Lupin asked, a trace of anxiousness in his voice. “What about Ron, Hermione?”

Sirius gave a bitter chuckle. “What do you think?”

Lupin could only gape with mingled shock and horror. “He doesn’t trust them either? What the hell happened to him?”

Sirius turned away. “Nothing that you, or me, or Dumbledore couldn’t have seen coming. I just caught onto it a little quicker,” he muttered as he picked up the paper, unable to stop the flicker of concern as he imagined the headline that would be emblazoned across it if Harry was caught in Gringotts.

* * *

“I really think,” Harry muttered, rubbing the side of his head, “that I prefer brooms to Side-Along Apparition. Where are we, anyways?”

“One of Tom’s little-used storerooms at the back of the Leaky Cauldron,” Tonks whispered back, nearly tripping over a box protruding from one of the cabinets lining the walls. “We’ve got a few minutes here so we can plan our next move –”

“Why don’t you tell me why Professor Lupin was waiting for me this morning?” Harry asked coolly, his hand slowly drifting towards his wand in his pocket.

Tonks shook her head adamantly. “Nothing to do with that, honestly. Frankly, I was surprised he was up too – the full moon’s coming up, and I would have expected him to be resting before it. It must have been a fluke.”

“It better have been,” Harry muttered darkly, as he withdrew his Invisibility Cloak from the briefcase that Tonks had flipped open. “If we’ve got a leak already…”

“Let’s just focus on the mission,” Tonks said bracingly, as she pulled out her own wand and lightly twirled it in her hand. “Right, so you know I’m a Metamorphmagus? I told you over dinner last night.”

“You showed me over dinner, if that’s what you mean,” Harry said with a slight smile. “So that means…”

Tonks smiled and tossed her hair back and in the space of a blink, the vivid shades of bubblegum pink had turned a shimmering white blond. Harry was unpleasantly reminded of Malfoy. It had also lengthened nearly a foot, extending far past her shoulders and cascading down her back.

Harry whistled. “Well, that’ll throw off pursuit quickly enough.”

“Not enough yet, though,” Tonks said with a frown. Screwing up her face, she concentrated for a few seconds, and to Harry’s complete amazement, the Auror seemed to grow at least two inches and fill out significantly. He quickly tore his eyes away as he flushed with mortification. This could get awkward…

Tonks chuckled as she saw Harry’s embarrassment. “What’s bothering you so much, Harry?”

“N-nothing,” he said, quickly turning back and keeping his eyes firmly on Tonks’ face, which barely even resembled her original appearance. If it wasn’t for the mischievous look on her face, Harry wouldn’t have even recognized her. “You… you just look like…”

The young woman snorted. “A younger, sexier version of Narcissa Malfoy, I know.”

Harry went red. “Not what I was going to say! It’s just… well, do you think it’s all necessary?” he lamely finished.

“Trust me, Harry,” Tonks replied with a sly wink as she slid her wand into a small pocket of her fine, expensive robes – robes that Harry hadn’t noticed before wearing before, but ones that made sense with her disguise, “more people will be focusing on my assets than me personally. It’s an advantage… and sometimes as an Auror, you’ve got to take any advantage you’re given.”

Harry immediately seized the opportunity to pull the conversation back to comfortable territory. “And we’ll need as many advantages as we can if we want to pull this one off. Let’s go over the plan one last time.”

Tonks nodded, a slow grin spreading on her face. “You get under your Cloak and follow me through Diagon Alley to Gringotts. I’ll approach the teller while you head towards the stairs on the far right side of the hall. Four flights up, down the white marble corridor, up another two staircases to the paneled and carpeted hallways –”

“And down to the fifth door on the right after the first turn,” Harry finished, nodding quickly. “That should be Vesparian Welmon’s office. Not sure how that’s going to work out – best case scenario is if he steps out, but I can bluff if I need to. Worst case scenario is that I place a Confundus Charm on him.”

“You know that charm?” Tonks asked with surprise.

“I trained for months for that damned maze,” Harry replied, iron in his voice. “You’d be surprised what I learned. Won’t be able to put a Memory Charm on him, though.”

“That’s N.E.W.T. level magic, I’d hardly expect it.”

“So presuming I find the papers I want, the next stop is deep storage,” Harry continued, taking a deep breath. “That’s three flights downstairs, past the archivist desk, and down the dusty hallway on the left by the dragon statue.”

“You can’t rely on that,” Tonks warned. “First rule as an Auror is not to rely on landmarks like a statue or a tree – too easily moved or shifted to another location. Now, considering that the goblins that run Gringotts pride themselves on stability, the odds of that are fairly low, but it still could be possible. Now once you get the papers –”

“I meet you by the fourth teller on the right side of the hall at precisely one thirty seven P.M,” Harry finished. “Honestly, I still think we’re overestimating the time it’s going to take for me to finish this.”

“You haven’t seen the deep records storage yet. From everything I’ve heard, you could be in there for hours trying to find those papers.”

“But what if I’m finished early?” Harry asked worriedly. “You already said that you planned to head into Diagon Alley to not attract attention. How on earth am I to contact you early?”

Tonks smiled widely as she reached into the case and pulled out a tiny package wrapped in parchment. With a frown, Harry unfolded the paper to reveal a small, dirty mirror.

“Sirius gave them to me,” she explained at Harry’s look of confusion. “They’re a pair – you and I can communicate through them. Just speak my name – my fake name, mind you – into the mirror, and I’ll make my way over to Gringotts as quickly as I can.”

“Wait, you have a fake name?” Harry’s eyebrows shot straight into his hair.

“I’ve got a full cover that Sirius and I cooked up,” Tonks said proudly. “Nymphadora Vuneren, of the notoriously reclusive Vuneren pureblood family, here to discuss several international real estate transactions and investments in Corsica and Sicily. Fabulously rich and enterprisingly single – the perfect distraction for a possessive and greedy banker, human or goblin.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I’m sure. I can see Sirius’ fingerprints all over this.”

“Hey, occasionally he does have good taste!”

“Can you pull it off?”

Tonks fluttered her long eyelashes flirtatiously. “My cover is flawless, just like every other inch of me, Harry,” she said in a sultry voice that made Harry go red again, prompting another mischievous laugh from the young Auror.

“Will the twins be ready?” Harry asked at a frown, dragging the conversation back to the mission. “That’s my concern, not whether or not my cover’s in various states of flawlessness.”

“They both stayed at the Leaky Cauldron last night,” Tonks said with a crafty smile. “Didn’t you notice that the house was quieter last night?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “I honestly thought they went back to the Burrow – isn’t that what they told Mr. Weasley?”

“I don’t think they even bothered to tell him,” Tonks said thoughtfully. “In any case, they’ll be ready with the distraction the second we step out of Gringotts. You’ve got the firework they gave you in case you need a last ditch distraction?”

Harry cautiously patted his pocket. “I’m honestly hoping I won’t have to use it or my wand – can’t the Ministry track who’s using underage magic anyways?”

“The Trace will detect the magic, but not the user,” Tonks said, blowing out an unsteady breath. “And you can bet the goblins won’t let Ministry investigators into their bank without a substantial – and I mean substantial – warrant. They don’t want to risk an incident with the goblins, especially over Gringotts.”

“Right,” Harry said, lightly shaking out his Invisibility Cloak. “Okay, so are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Tonks said lightly. “Relax, Harry, I’ve done this before – top marks in Disguise and Concealment in the Auror Department, remember?”

“Nearly failing Stealth and Tracking, though,” Harry remarked wryly, tossing the cloak over his shoulders and trying to ignore the nervous roil of his gut.
Tonks looked like she was going to protest, but Harry was already chuckling under his breath when he threw the Cloak over his head, vanishing completely.

“All right, then, Harry, let’s go,” Tonks said to the apparently empty room. Then, drawing herself up with an imperious sniff (one that nearly made Harry choke on his laughter, even despite his nervousness), she strode out of the room, Harry sliding silently behind her.

The Leaky Cauldron still had a fair number of patrons, even early in the morning, and Harry narrowly avoided stepping on people as he crossed the room behind Tonks. Several people were shying away from the Auror, whose rich appearance and disdainful sneer was driving away everyone in her path. She’s playing her role well, Harry noted with a degree of mild surprise and satisfaction. Given how not serious she is, I’m surprised she’s doing so well…

After a few tense seconds, they had reached the back of the tiny pub, and with a few careful taps of her wand, the archway into Diagon Alley slid open from the brick wall. Taking another disdainful sniff, Tonks began to walk down the narrow street, her invisible shadow keeping close behind.

The alley, much to Harry’s surprise, wasn’t packed full of people like it usually was. There were a few older witches walking down the alley, bickering with each other about cats and the higher prices of purified belladonna, but for the most part, Diagon Alley seemed relatively quiet.

The hairs on the back of Harry’s arms were standing up. Something’s gone wrong… the Ministry’s been tipped off somehow… could Tonks have betrayed me?

Keeping a firm hand on his cloak, he cautiously pulled his wand out and leveled it at her back, in case she made any sudden motions. He only needed her until they got to Gringotts, after all. The twins can Apparate now too… if I need to, I’ll just find them when I leave…

Tonks suddenly stopped, nearly causing a startled Harry to bump into her. Reaching into her robes, she pulled out a small hand mirror – an exact match to Harry’s. Pretending to be examining her makeup, she quickly whispered into her mirror.

“Something’s gone wrong. I’m going to pick up the pace – as soon as I get to Gringotts, I’m going to continue down Diagon Alley and see what I can find out,” she whispered, barely moving her lips.

“All right,” Harry breathed back, his voice barely audible as he hurriedly shoved his own mirror back into his pocket and continued to follow Tonks. He was already breathing more heavily as his nervousness and suspicion boiled together in his gut. Things are starting to go off-track… this could get bad really fast…

Keeping his hand tightly wrapped around the hem of his Invisibility Cloak as the massive Gringotts building came into view, Harry worked on keeping his footsteps as silent as possible. Despite the fact that Diagon Alley usually was raucous and noisy, he knew that unexplained sounds or feelings in the wizarding world seldom went over well. He remembered with a pang the Chamber of Secrets incident, where he was the only one that could hear the basilisk. I was an outcast then because everyone thought I was the Heir of Slytherin, he thought, swallowing hard, but now something has changed…

Tonks, looking every inch the rich, pureblood aristocrat, lightly ascended the stairs towards Gringotts, her imperious stare raking the goblins that hastily bowed deeply at her passing. Taking a deep breath, Harry darted quickly behind her, trying not to make a sound in the narrow doorway.

One of the goblins halted suddenly in mid bow, his beady eyes raking Tonks suspiciously, and Harry’s heart nearly leapt in his chest. He continued to creep forward towards the next set of double doors, as close to Tonks as he dared, nearly treading on the hem of her robe. If I stay close enough, maybe the goblins will just assume that it’s Tonks… unless they can see through Invisibility Cloaks and they already know… no, Sirius would have mentioned that… by god, why the hell did these blasted goblins put in marble floors!

“Something up, Rictor?” one of the goblins growled, his eyes finally leaving Tonks and turning to his fellow goblin – the one that had frozen in mid bow.

“It’s nothing,” the other goblin replied darkly, shaking his head and muttering under his breath in Gobbledegook.

Harry let out a slow breath as he watched Tonks slide gracefully towards the counter. She’s in position, he thought with relief as he began crossing the center of the hall, shaking with the aftermath of the near-discovery. Now to find those stairs…

But to his surprise (and relief), he spotted the stairs very quickly and made a beeline towards them, trying to keep his footsteps as silent as possible as he walked. There were dozens of goblins in the main hall of the room, carrying ledgers, bags of gold, treasure chests, or nasty-looking knives, and Harry knew, with his heart hammering in his chest, that it would only take one to discover him. It’s almost like playing a game of Quidditch, he thought suddenly, with a hundred more Bludgers…

Finally, after an agonizing few minutes of careful motions across the floor (all the more dangerous, considering that he had to make sure his Cloak didn’t flap up and review his feet to the shorter goblins), he finally reached the staircase – thankfully deserted. Swallowing hard, Harry began climbing the spiral staircase, flattening himself tightly to the wall any time a goblin descended. He slowly began counting the number of stairwells as he climbed. After all, I don’t want to get lost in here…I don’t think the goblins would take it too well if they found an unexpected intruder, even if it is the Boy-Who-Lived…

The four flights of stairs – surprisingly steep, given the goblins’ short stature – ended quite quickly, and Harry instantly spotted the large, arched corridor made of white marble. To his surprise, Harry saw a number of humans, wearing business robes, pacing and talking in the corridor, but not a single goblin. Taking another deep breath (careful that there was nobody who could hear it), he inched slowly down the hallway, sliding towards the right edge of the corridor, pausing behind massive columns before sliding further along the wall.

He realized, rather suddenly, how incredibly noisy the hallway was, compared to the rest of Gringotts. Harry could hear a din of voices, and snippets of a dozen different conversations.

“Well, it’s not my fault that –”

“At an interest rate of six percent, it’s hardly worth investing –”

“I don’t think Magical Finance will have a problem –”

“No bloody way! A whole dragon –”

“It will be a pleasure doing business with you, Yarone.”

Harry froze suddenly as a surge of terror flooded through him; he recognized that voice, one he didn’t have any desire to hear on a secret mission into unfamiliar territory. But with the fear came a surge of rage. How he can even dare show his face –

“As I said, Mr. Malfoy, it should not be a problem transferring the assets to the appropriate, ah, jurisdiction,” a massive, bespectacled lump of a man in a brown waistcoat said obsequiously, nodding his heavyset head deeply.

“See to it that there isn’t,” Lucius Malfoy said coldly, his long black robes billowing slightly as he continued to walk. “I’ve got an appointment at the Ministry in less than an hour, and I do not wish to be delayed in this, particularly if such problems can be avoided. And I have no desire to deal with any of that ruckus happening outside of Flourish & Blotts this morning – or to be connected to it whatsoever. See to it that the funds reach the correct hands at the Prophet…”

Harry couldn’t hear anymore, but his mind was churning as he flattened himself tightly against the wall as another group of arguing Gringotts employees walked by. Well, it makes sense, in a twisted sort of way, why Tonks and I didn’t see many people this morning. If there’s something happening outside of Flourish & Blotts… and if Malfoy doesn’t want to get involved… this could be interesting indeed, especially if Voldemort’s involved…

He reached the end of the hallway with a few more steps and quickly ascended the next two flights of stairs. To his astonishment, the loud noise from the hallway below seemed to completely vanish as he entered the narrow hallway, paneled with dark wood that Harry didn’t recognize and carpeted a deep, plush shade of red. He breathed a little easier when he saw that the hallway was deserted.

Now it’s the fifth door on the right, Harry thought to himself as he kept a firm hand over his Invisibility Cloak. Please be empty, please be empty…

He reached the heavy wooden door and quickly read the narrow gold cursive lettering across it. “Vesperian Welmon, pureblood accountant,” Harry whispered to himself, slowly placing his hand over the knob. Taking a deep breath, he slowly began to turn the handle.

It was locked.

Harry blew out a quick frustrated breath as he reached deep into his pocket and pulled out the penknife that Sirius had given him last Christmas. Guess you were right after all when you said it would be a good idea to bring this, Sirius, he thought wryly as he carefully slid it into the tiny gap between the door and the frame. Steadying his shaking hand, he slowly began to slide it down the side of the frame.

There was an audible click, and Harry breathed a little easier as he quickly stowed the knife and drew his wand instead. Carefully placing his hand on the knob, he gave it a quick twist and shoved it a bit with the edge of his shoe.

“The more polite thing would have been to knock,” a harassed, razor-sharp voice said, and Harry froze, letting the door slowly open. He quickly darted into the room as the heavy-set man in the chair, dressed in a crisp (if outdated) brown suit got up and approached the door, Harry frantically edging across the paneled wall as quickly as he could.

The man looked irritably down the hallways quickly before shutting his door with a disgusted grunt. “Bloody useless interns…” Locking it quickly with a twist of his hand, he went back to his desk, straightened his narrow, gold-rimmed glasses, and returned to his ledger.

Harry was at a loss. From his perspective, the man (who he strongly suspected was Vesparian Welmon, from Sirius’ description) didn’t look like he was planning to leave any time soon. I’m stuck in his office, invisible, unless he plans to go for lunch… but if Tonks is right and the archive room takes longer than I thought, I can’t afford to be held up here… and that’ll mean I’m confronting Welmon personally.

Harry quickly scanned the office – remarkably austere, with the rich wood cabinets and polished desk the only signs of prosperity in the office – and tried to locate Welmon’s wand. Damn, it looks like he’s carrying it on him… that’ll mean I’ll have to rely on threats and bluffs if I want to keep him on edge without using magic… better move sooner rather than later, though, in case somebody comes in…

Welmon swore under his breath and furiously scratched a number from his ledger with his quill. “Damned rich fools can’t keep their finances in order or even submit good documentation –“

“Not like you, then,” Harry said grimly, a firm hand on his Invisibility Cloak as he threw it back, becoming suddenly visible.

Welmon snapped up and his hand moved towards his waistcoat, but Harry’s wand was already pointing directly at Welmon’s head.

“Where is your wand?” Harry growled.

Welmon was breathing very quickly, but he quickly motioned towards the inside pocket of his waistcoat. Still keeping his wand firmly fixed on the accountant, Harry deftly yanked the wand free and pocketed it.

“I’m not the person to rob if you want anything of value, sir,” Welmon said stiffly.

“I’m not trying to rob you,” Harry said, inclining his head to look into the accountant’s eyes, which widened instantly at the sight of Harry’s scar. “You just have something I want.”

“I – I thought you were in Ministry custody!” the man stammered.

“Says a lot about their security, then, doesn’t it?” Harry sneered, tapping Welmon lightly on the head. “I assume you read the Prophet, then?”

Welmon nodded sharply.

“Good. Then you’ll know what I’ll do if you cause me problems,” Harry said icily. “Hopefully, that won’t happen. Trust me, I have no desire to do this, but circumstances are dire at the moment, and I need information.”

“I won’t tell you anything,” Welmon snarled, “and you’ll never get out of Gringotts with anything either.”

“You obviously have no idea what I’m capable of,” Harry said dangerously. “Heard of the Triwizard Tournament last year? I got through it alive, didn’t I? And I’m in a bit of a situation, so I’m not inclined to be charitable either. All I need is information, and if you give it to me, I’ll leave and you won’t have to hear from me again. You can claim I took it from you by force.”

Welmon’s eyes narrowed. “What on earth do you want from me?”

“You worked on the Cygnus Black-Druella Rosier marriage, didn’t you?” Harry asked. Here it goes…

Welmon frowned. “I did.”

“Who was the other accountant that worked with you, representing the Rosiers in the dowry papers?”

Welmon’s brow furrowed. “That was decades ago, Potter! I was less than an intern then, only handling the minor books! How on earth am I supposed to know?”

“Because his name will be on the papers, and you’re an obsessive record-keeper,” Harry growled. “And even if you were less than an intern, you know who managed the Rosier accounts.”

“The Rosier accounts were all closed over a decade ago with the end of the male line!” Welmon said hotly. “How is that even relevant to anything?”

Harry leaned forward over the desk, cold fury burning in his eyes. “And you know who the one that closed the accounts was, and you have documentation to prove it. His name, please.”

“He’s dead,” Welmon said, smug and triumphant. “Keaton Matthis died eight years ago – I was at his funeral. You can’t touch him, Harry Potter.”

Harry sighed internally. Finally, a name. “I had no desire to go after him,” he said evenly, “but I do require proof that he was the one who worked for the Rosiers. And you have that data.” He motioned with his wand. “I want to see a paper.”

Welmon unsteadily got up and approached a cabinet in the corner. Looking shrewdly at Harry, he pulled out a ring of keys from his pocket and unlocked the drawer. Sliding it open with practiced ease, he pulled a file out, flipped through it quickly, and withdrew a single paper.

“This should be proof enough for you,” Welmon said, his confusion warring with fury in his voice. “It’s one of the older papers relating to the dowry –”

“Put it on the desk,” Harry ordered, pointing at the desk with his free hand.

Welmon swallowed hard and carefully placed the paper on the desk. Keeping his wand pointed at the accountant, he quickly scanned the paper. Surely enough, in the list of the accountants, right above Welmon’s name, was the name Keaton Matthis, with the subtext ‘representing the Rosiers.’

Perfect, Harry thought as he slid the paper back towards the accountant. “It’ll do.”

“Is that all?” Welmon asked slowly, slightly confused as Harry pulled out the accountant’s wand.

“I said that would do,” Harry replied irritably, but then he froze. “Why do you ask, Welmon? Should that be all?”

Welmon looked around quickly. “I… I… thought you might –”

“Might do what, Welmon?” Harry growled, stepping closer and raising his wand higher. “Something you want to tell me?”

“I t-thought you might have been here about the Potter accounts!” Welmon sputtered, his face going red as Harry raised the wand a little closer.

Harry gave a mirthless laugh. “Potter accounts? My parents already left me everything in my vault!”

“The Potters had more than that,” Welmon mumbled.

“Speak up!” Harry snarled. “What did you just say?”

“The Potter family had money – hell, they were one of the most prominent pureblood families in the United Kingdom!” Welmon said frantically, the first true fear Harry had seen crossing his face. “Your vault only has the trust fund they left for you. The rest of the Potter assets, given the great confusion after the deaths of your parents –”

“Where are they?” Harry growled. He hadn’t planned on this, but he wasn’t going to walk away from money that his parents had left him. The real question is why I didn’t know about this earlier. Dumbledore and Hagrid must have had a very good reason for not telling me…

“The Potter accounts were closed years ago on executive orders from the Ministry!” Welmon said hurriedly as Harry stepped even closer. “There was an appeal, but the Potter vaults were sealed fourteen years ago!”

“And who was the imbecile who handled the Potter finances and allowed the vaults to be sealed?” Harry snarled. “A name, Welmon!”

“Miguel Prince,” Welmon said quickly, hastily wiping his face with the sleeve of his waistcoat. “I swear, that was him!”

“Is he still alive?”

“Died five years ago,” Welmon replied, swallowing hard. Harry’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “I swear, that was it!”

“And how,” Harry said, his tone shaking with barely contained fury, “would I access those vaults?”

Welmon swallowed hard again. “I… I don’t know. Please, I don’t know anything about the Potter accounts, Prince handled everything! Don’t hurt me, please!”

Harry gave a disgusted sigh as he walked towards the door, picking up his Invisibility Cloak from the plush carpet as he walked. “Why would I bother? You gave me what I wanted.”

“Y-you’re leaving?” Welmon asked, stepping closer to his desk.

Harry shrugged listlessly, the names of the two dead Gringotts accounts ringing in his mind. Keaton Matthis. Miguel Prince. I’ll remember those names. “You gave me what I wanted.”

“You... you know you’ll never get out of Gringotts with –”

Harry gave a sharp, bitter laugh. “Underestimating me already, Welmon? Guess you won’t be the one handling my accounts. And you can call the guards or the Ministry if you want – they’ll never find me.” It was a bluff and he knew it, but the fear on Welmon’s face already told Harry that the accountant wasn’t likely to tell anybody anything. After all, he thought suddenly, who would believe him?

Tossing the man’s wand on the floor, he drew his Invisibility Cloak up over his head and unlocked the door with a twist of the knob. Then, putting his hand to his head in an attempt to stop the raging headache that was threatening to blossom there, he slid out into the paneled hallway.

* * *

“Nymphadora?”

Tonks froze suddenly, and her hand shifted quickly from the gorgeous dress robes on the rack in front of her to the small pocket in her robes. “Who’s calling?” she whispered to the mirror as she brought it quickly to her face.

“Who do you think?” Harry replied, his face not showing in the mirror, but she expected this, if he was under his Invisibility Cloak.

“Thought Sirius told you to call me Tonks,” she said wryly as she slid into a corner of the elegantly appointed store. After the trip to Gringotts, she had decided to indulge herself in the most convenient thing for a rich, pureblood girl to do in Diagon Alley, and that was to go shopping. And it’s a damned good cover, too, she thought to herself as she surveyed Twilfit & Taddings, the store she was currently visiting.

“Thought you told me to call you by your cover name,” Harry replied, strain in his voice. “I’ve dealt with Welmon – he knows I’m in Gringotts.”

“Did he cooperate?” Tonks whispered, instantly alert.

“As much as one could suspect… look, he wasn’t too friendly at the beginning, but it’s not like he can say much. I’ve got the names.”

“I thought you were just looking for one,” Tonks said, confused. “What changed? Did you find out more?”

“Nah, the second name is that of the accountant who closed the Potter vaults,” Harry growled. “Know anything about that, Tonks?”

Tonks’ eyes were wide. “Harry, I didn’t even know the Potters well at all – my folks never joined the Order officially. As for the vaults… sorry, Harry, I don’t know anything.”

Harry let out an exasperated sigh. “That’ll be something to ask Dumbledore about after I’m cleared,” he muttered. “In any case, I’m at the doors of the deep storage, and I’m going to be going in soon. I’ll call again before I leave. About my exit… what was going on outside Flourish & Blotts?”

Tonks gave a disgusted snort. “Bunch of old warlocks protesting the new release of some new history book. Caused a considerable ruckus about it too, and there was quite the riot over there. I just stayed away from it, and I’m thinking that it’s died down by now.”

“Any luck hearing from the twins?”

“Not yet, but I’m scheduled to meet them in the Leaky Cauldron in about a half hour.”

“Get there early and talk to them – I don’t know how long Welmon’s going to last before he cracks and tells somebody that there’s an escaped criminal in the bank.” Harry’s voice was grim. “I’m running out of time, and I’m not going to get caught without the information I need.”

The mirror went dark, and Tonks blew out a low breath. With a last longing gaze at the dress robes she was looking at, she headed towards the front of the store and the narrow, more crowded street outside.

* * *

It’s actually pathetic, really, Harry thought as he slowly opened the door to the deep storage archive, that I can break into the financial records of Gringotts with a cheap penknife and an Invisibility Cloak. I honestly thought Gringotts’ security was a bit better than this… then again, most people who are trying to steal something go straight to the vaults, not to mouldy old financial documents…

Carefully shutting the door behind him, careful to make sure it didn’t close on his cloak, he stifled a sneeze as he looked across the massive chamber. With high, paneled shelves like the Hogwarts library, it was filled with ledgers, massive tomes, and box after box of carefully labeled boxes that Harry guessed were filled with files of folders. Everything was covered in dust and dirt, and Harry could barely restrain another sneeze as he stepped deeper into the archive. Tonks and Sirius were right, Harry thought with a pang of despair. This could take hours…

Drawing his wand carefully, he moved along the main aisle, his eyes noting the yellowed signs along each shelf. Hmm… at least all these damned shelves are set up alphabetically by accountant, not chronologically… that would have been a nightmare. Maybe this won’t be as bad as they think... all I really need to do is find the right aisle…

Suddenly, out of the darkness, Harry heard a voice and froze – a female voice, incredibly familiar –

“Can I help –”

“That depends on whether or not you can be trusted,” Harry said grimly, tossing back his Cloak as he pointed his wand at the young woman sitting in the chair behind the tiny desk along the wall – a desk he had walked past without even noticing. Silently cursing his stupidity, he raised his wand a little higher. “Well, Fleur? I can only assume you’ve read the Prophet?”

Fleur Delacour tossed back her silvery-white hair as she got to her feet. Her typical haughty demeanor was mixed with confusion and a surprising expression of frustration. “Really, it depends on why you are here, ‘Arry,” she said coolly. Her French accent was still discernable, but her English was far better than Harry could have expected. Well, if she’s been here for a month working with people, it wouldn’t be surprising that she picked up English quickly…

Harry cocked an eyebrow. “Your first question is not how I got in, but why?”

Fleur smiled slightly. “You got through the Triwizard Tournament, and I know you are not incompetent, and you have that Cloak – a true beauty, by the way – so I can discern the ‘how.’ The why, however, brings some, ah, questions.”

Harry breathed out quickly. “I need papers… documents from two dead accountants. For my court case,” he said slowly.

Fleur frowned. “Why?”

Harry shook his head. “I can’t tell you. Don’t suppose you could help me?” he added off-hand, frustration leaking into his own voice.

Fleur surveyed him for a long few seconds. “I could,” she said finally, “but I must know the names.”

What? Harry was thrown off-guard – he hadn’t expected Fleur to cooperate at all. “You – you’ll help –”

“The goblins,” Fleur spat, “assigned me here when I came to Gringotts, and it has been terrible. The accountants and interns wanted me upstairs, but the goblins run the bank. Placed in charge of papers that need no caretaker – entirely useless.”

“But aren’t you, like, part-Veela?” Harry asked with confusion as Fleur came around the other side of the desk.

“And they noticed first,” Fleur said shortly with disgust. “And goblins are just as prejudiced as wizards, if not more. What are the names, ‘Arry?”

“Uh… well, the first is Keaton Matthis, and the other is Miguel Prince,” Harry said, still slightly startled that Fleur was helping. “So… what do you do –”

“I find required files for the accountants and goblins,” Fleur said stiffly as she drew her wand, “and nothing else. You are the first living thing I’ve seen all day.”

Harry winced. “Why are you even still working here? You’ve got more talent than this, and surely if you’re trying to improve your English – which doesn’t need much work, by the way –you want to be talking to people.”

“It pays well,” Fleur said with a shrug as they began walking down the main aisle, silently flicking her wand at the massive shelves next to her. “And they did offer first.”

She’s a Triwizard champion, and she’s stuck watching boxes of papers, Harry thought, anger flooding into his gut. She does deserve better than this…

They took a turn down a particularly dusty aisle and Fleur stopped at a small box that seemed to be glowing with a faint, milk-white light. “This,” she said slowly, “is the first of this Matthis’ boxes.”

“How many more?” Harry asked.

“The next four shelves of boxes, and eight boxes after that in the next aisle,” she replied.

Harry’s heart sank. “That’ll take more time than I have.”

“Looking for something in particular?” Fleur asked curiously.

“A transaction record, or something that might be related to the closure of the Rosier account,” Harry replied desperately. “Any way you can search for that?”

Fleur muttered a few words under her breath and gave her thin wand a delicate flick. White light began to stream from two more boxes on adjacent shelves. “The transaction record’s in that box,” she said, pointing at the box with her wand, “while information on the Rosier account once Matthis took over are in that box.”

“Perfect,” Harry said with relief as he pulled the boxes down and flipped them open. He eagerly flipped through the stacked files until, at the very bottom of the second box, he found a plain grey folder filled with dozens of crumpled papers – and to Harry’s surprise, newspaper cuttings.

Fleur frowned. “What, exactly, is that? That’s not a Gringotts file.”

“It’s what I’m looking for,” Harry breathed with triumph as he flipped through the file to the first piece of parchment – a letter in official-looking text, from the Auror Department to one Keaton Matthis, signed by Auror Rufus Scrimgeour. If Fleur’s spell is good, this could be exactly what I need to blackmail Scrimgeour…

He looked up quickly. “Mind if I take this, Fleur?” He gestured to the file. “I need these papers.”

“It’s not a Gringotts file,” Fleur said with distaste. “Part of my job is to dispose of those kinds of papers whenever I find them – too many accountants kept complete nonsense in their boxes, cluttering our archives unnecessarily.”

“So I can keep it?” Harry persisted.

“I don’t see why not,” Fleur replied with an easy shrug. “Besides, ‘Arry, I still owe you a significant debt for saving my sister in the lake – and I would do much to help a friend.”

Harry flushed red at Fleur’s words and small smile. “You have no idea how much this means to me, Fleur. Thank you so much. I won’t forget this.”

Carefully placing the lid back on the box, Fleur shoved the box back into its position. “We should likely hurry, I think. If you have little time –”

“The name’s Miguel Prince,” Harry said quickly, getting to his feet. Fleur nodded and muttered a few words under her breath with another wave of her wand. Quickly tucking the file into the bag slung over his shoulder, Harry followed Fleur down another aisle to where another box was glowing.

“That’s some impressive magic,” Harry said, genuinely impressed. “Where did you learn those?”

“Beauxbatons had a large library, and I didn’t always have a lot of time,” Fleur replied with a shrug. “They are useful charms.”

“My friend Hermione would love them. You really do deserve better than this job.”

“Merci, ‘Arry, but until my English is better, it will very difficult to get a job outside of this –”

“That’s rubbish,” Harry said bluntly. “Your English is great, and I’m sure anybody would be happy to have you. Is there any way you can find the records around the closure and sealing of the Potter vaults?”

Fleur muttered a few more words and another box began to glow softly. His heart hammering in his chest, Harry yanked open the box, only to see a bright red glow erupting from a single, thick file halfway through the stack. Pulling it out and hastily shoving it into his bag, he got to his feet.

Fleur’s eyes narrowed. “’Arry, unlike the last, that is a Gringotts file, and it can’t be taken from the bank.”

“It’s also filled with information about my parents, and I’m not passing that up,” Harry replied, looking back at Fleur defiantly. “I can’t afford to leave it behind, and I might not get a chance to see it again.”

“I can’t –”

“Fleur, I don’t have time to waste here,” Harry said, shaking out his Invisibility Cloak, sending dust flying everywhere. “I need that file, Fleur. Please,” he added, his hand tightening on the handle of his wand. “And besides, it’s not like anybody will ever know that it’s gone.”

“I will,” Fleur said, crossing her arms over her chest.

“And you will know that I’m doing this for family, for the right reasons,” Harry said quickly. “Please, Fleur, don’t mention it – this is personal."

She looked at him for a few seconds before sighing. “Je comprend, ‘Arry. Take it.”

There was a sudden bang at the door, and Harry swore under his breath. Fleur’s wand was out in a flash while Harry pulled on his Invisibility Cloak.

“How can I get out of here?” he whispered quickly, his heart already hammering. If the goblins are searching for me, this could get ugly…

“There is an emergency stairwell at the side of the hall,” Fleur whispered back quickly. “Follow it down all the way to the ground floor, take the third corridor, and you’ll be at the far side of the main hall.” Suddenly, she threw a startled Harry her wand. “Quickly, Stun me!”

“What –”

“I can’t be seen to have collaborated with you,” she hissed back quickly. “Stun me, throw away my wand, and run!”

“But the Trace –”

“That’s why I gave you my wand, ‘Arry!” Fleur quickly looked behind her, and Harry saw, to his horror, that there were multiple figures coming into view. “Now!”

“Confundo, Stupefy!” Harry whispered, jabbing the wand at Fleur. Tossing aside Fleur’s wand as her eyes rolled back and she crumpled, he turned and ran.

“Somebody’s down there, get him!” a hoarse goblin voice shouted. Swallowing hard and taking a firmer hold on his Invisibility Cloak, Harry hurtled out of the aisle, and turned towards the door along the side of the wall.

He hit it with his shoulder, and much to Harry’s shock, the door flew open, revealing a narrow stone stairwell. Keeping a firm hand on his wand, he wrenched his hand into his pocket and pulled out the mirror. “Nymphadora, you better get moving fast, because I got what I came for!”

* * *

“So you’re saying,” a orange-haired man said slowly as he crossed his arms over his chest and looked down on a haggard man scribbling quickly on a fresh piece of parchment, “that there was under-age magic used in Gringotts? Magic used by a wand?”

“That’s what all of our magical detection devices indicate,” the haggard man replied, pointing back at the whirring devices behind his desk. “The Trace went off just a few minutes ago, and nobody has a damned clue how it happened.”

“And you still can’t detect who cast the magic?” the orange-haired man asked with frustration.

“The spell doesn’t allow for it.”

“The spell is flawed and needs to be replaced,” the orange-haired man growled, slamming his hands on the desk. “No young witch or wizard would cast magic so openly in Gringotts unless they have everything to lose. And that means that it can only be one person.”

He turned to the two somberly-dressed wizards standing behind him. “The Aurors have a security breach. Get the Hit Wizards together – we’ll need a full complement if we want to storm Gringotts.”

“Are you sure that’s wise, Dmitri?” one of the wizards asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Potter’s not getting away from me,” Dmitri Kemester growled. “Not this time.”

* * *

Tonks drew her wand as she passed through the doors of Gringotts. The two goblin doormen gave her hateful, jealous looks, but she didn’t care. Harry was on his way, and from the sounds of the message, he was in trouble.

Moving towards the fourth counter and standing behind a heavy-set witch in maroon robes, she tapped her foot impatiently. Harry should be coming any second now…

There was a loud bang, and several of the goblins looked around in surprise. Tonks fingered her wand carefully – timing would be critical, and she knew it. Harry must have thrown his firework to throw off pursuit, and that means – there!

Despite the complete seriousness of the situation, she could only smile at the utter ludicrousness of the scene. A pair of feet (undoubtedly belonging to Harry under his Cloak) were running wildly across the main hall of Gringotts, hotly pursued by at least ten goblins and as many wizards, all brandishing wands (or in the case of the goblins, rather sharp knives).

Tonks raised her eyebrows as she silently made a quick flick of her wand and concentrated hard on one of her favourite non-verbal spells. Glisseo!

A second later, the goblins and wizards behind Harry began to stumble and collapse, unable to gain any traction on the slick marble floor – now slicker than ice. Pandemonium erupted through the hall, as a dozen armed goblin guards came flooding in through side doors –

Tonks quickened her pace and with a few easy steps, she had approached the doors of Gringotts. She could hear the frantic hammering of shoes, and she knew Harry was close behind her.

But there was a resounding number of pops, and to Tonks’ shock, a dozen dark-robed figures appeared out of nowhere in Diagon Alley. Hit Wizards, she thought with a pang. Harry must have cast magic…

She raised her voice. “Now!”

There was a few seconds of silence before Tonks was nearly knocked off her feet by the multicoloured blast. From a nearby upper window, somebody (and Tonks knew exactly who) had thrown two massive crates of fireworks onto the cobblestones. All across the stones, fireworks were exploding and ricocheting, sending sparks and fire everywhere –

She felt somebody slam into her from behind, and she heard Harry’s voice in her ear. “Let’s go!”

She nodded quickly, and grabbing Harry’s arm (which had shot out of his Invisibility Cloak to hang suspended in the air), she spun on her heel and Disapparated a second before the last of Fred and George’s fireworks rocked Diagon Alley.