“Damn it, I bloody hate Apparition!” Harry swore as he stumbled against the doorsteps, coming out of the Side-Along Apparition off-balance and breathing hard. “Why the hell can’t we just use brooms –”

   “Because that way is faster and it’s a lot harder to track,” Tonks grunted, regaining her own balance from the hasty Apparition. “We’re just lucky we didn’t splinch ourselves, especially at the speed you were running! Now let’s get inside before we’re seen…”

   Tapping the door twice, Tonks shoved it open and pulled Harry inside as she screwed up her face. A few seconds later, the regular short, pink-haired Tonks was pulling Harry down towards the stairs.

   “Harry!” Sirius exclaimed, bolting up from his seat at the kitchen and pulling his godson into a tight embrace. “By Merlin, you’re safe!”

   Harry let out a heavy sigh of relief. “At safe as anywhere, I guess,” he replied heavily. “But it wasn’t clean, Sirius.”

   Sirius froze, and Lupin, who had just been getting to his feet, stopped in mid-step, the expression on his face a mixture of disapproval, relief, and fear.

   “We weren’t tracked, Remus, but it was close,” Tonks said, shaking out her hair as she slumped into a chair at the table. “There must have been two score of them chasing Harry at the end when we were getting out of –”

   “Tonks,” Harry said warningly, letting go of Sirius.

   “- Of where we were,” Tonks finished lamely, flushing at how close she had come to giving away Harry’s secret.

   “You weren’t identified?” Sirius asked tensely. “Nobody saw your face?”

   Harry snorted. “No, I was seen – hell, it was probably the reason why I got chased out in the first place. I didn’t have a choice, Sirius –”

   Sirius quickly gave Harry a warning glance before turning to Lupin. “Moony, do you mind giving us a few minutes?” he asked.

   Lupin’s eyes went wide with shock. “I can’t even listen to what Harry has to say, now? Padfoot, what is going on?”

   “It’s better that you don’t know, Professor,” Harry said slowly, not meeting Lupin’s eyes.

   “If you’re in trouble, I want to help you –”

   Harry shook his head, a look of disappointment flitting across his face. “There’s nothing you can do, Professor. It’d be better for you if you don’t know.”

   “Harry, please –”

   “The less people who know, the better,” Sirius said softly. “Remus, I don’t want to cut you out, but trust me when I say this: you can’t help us now.” He gestured towards the door. “Please, Remus.”

   Lupin’s face drained of colour. “Harry, what can I do –”

   “You can leave the room and shut the door,” Harry snapped, getting to his feet and giving his former professor an icy stare. “Then you can go upstairs to Ron and Hermione, tell them to forget the Extendable Ears, and that I’ll be up to talk to them after Sirius, Tonks, and I are finished here. That’d be a good start.”

   Swallowing hard, Lupin turned and slowly walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. When Harry couldn’t hear Lupin’s footsteps anymore, Tonks drew her wand and started muttering as she pointed it at the door.

   “Harry, that was cold,” Sirius finally said.

   “You think I like this?” Harry shot back. “Sirius, I don’t have room for error! If I can’t trust him, that he won’t go to Dumbledore or Shacklebolt, he doesn’t get to know anything. It’s that simple –”

   “I had to sit with him all morning and reassure him – and myself, come to think of it – that you weren’t going to get yourself killed, Harry,” Sirius interrupted evenly, pulling a few bottles of Butterbeer out of the cabinet and sliding onto the table. “He wants to help you – how do you think you made him feel when you told him that he couldn’t even know where you were going? James was his best friend, for Merlin’s sake, do you think he would have liked you treating Remus like that? Do you think I liked treating Remus like that?”

   “You know what we’re dealing with here, Sirius,” Harry growled, his own patience running out, “and that the slightest error or leak will put me in Azkaban or have me dead. I don’t want to have to do this to Lupin, but I don’t have a bloody choice! Until I can trust him, he can’t know what I’m doing.”

   “But you’re going to tell Ron and Hermione.”

   “Not the whole truth,” Harry replied, disgust in his voice as he dropped his bag on the table with an audible thud and pulled it open. “But enough that they have an idea what’s going on. The Prophet’s eventually going to catch wind of this mess, and they should know enough of the truth so they don’t think I’m some sort of twisted freak by the time this is over.”

   Tonks and Sirius exchanged looks, but Harry was already pulling the files out of his bag and laying them out of the table, shoving cutlery and goblets out of the way as he flipped them open.

   “You got the files, then?” Sirius asked, a trace of a grin crossing onto his face.

   “Fleur helped me get ‘em,” Harry muttered, as he flipped open the folder not marked with the Gringotts seal. To his satisfaction, the disordered heap of financial documents were matched by a stack of torn newspaper cuttings, all from the Daily Prophet dated over fifteen years earlier.

   “She helped you?”

   “As much as she could,” Harry replied. “Don’t worry, she didn’t leak me out – that was Welmon.”

   “Did you try coercing or bribing him?” Sirius asked, picking up one of the papers and scanning it carefully. “So Keaton Matthis was the one who did the Rosier files…”

   “Yep, he did,” Harry replied, his eyes scanning the first clipping in the pile. It was a short, brusque obituary written by Aurors for Evan Rosier. There was no picture, but Harry was glad for that – he didn’t want to see the man’s face. If he’s as sick and twisted as Sirius described him, I’m glad I’m not looking at him. “And as for Welmon, he didn’t seem the type to be bribed easily, so I had to intimidate him. Hell, probably the reason why I got as much time as I did because I scared him so badly.”

   “Why do you have two files?”

   Harry looked up and gave Sirius a steely look. “Because that one has to deal with the closing of the Potter accounts. Know anything about that, Sirius?”

   Sirius went pale. “Harry, I was in Azkaban, how could I possibly –”

   “That’s bullshit, Sirius, you know something.”

   “I don’t know the details, Harry, it happened six months after I went to Azkaban,” Sirius replied, looking stricken as he turned to Tonks. “Find anything in those papers?”

   “Nothing except that the Aurors were involved a lot more in this dirty money than they’ll ever want to admit,” Tonks replied, wrinkling her nose with disgust. “Makes me disappointed to even be an Auror.”

   “Scrimgeour’s name on anything yet?” Harry asked tensely, flipping through the clippings.

   “Nothing yet… aha!” Tonks slid the page across the table, and Harry and Sirius bent to read it.

   “It’s a financial record,” Harry murmured, “or at least it looks like one…”

   “It shows transactions to an Auror department account registered to one Rufus Scrimgeour, but there’s a bunch of numbers where the ledger details are supposed to be!” Sirius muttered. “How on earth are we supposed to recognize which is Rosier’s?”

   “Probably because it’s cross-referenced with this,” Harry replied triumphantly, pulling an official-looking letter from the stack of papers and laying it out of the table next to the record. “See the number on top? That number matches that number there, and from the looks of this letter, it says that  the assets and gold from one Evan Rosier under the conditions of his will are to be transferred to the Ministry vault 669, corresponding to –”

   “Rufus Scrimgeour, according to this,” Tonks finished, a smile spreading across her face. “Damn, that’s a lot of Galleons being moved!”

   “I think you might be enjoying this a bit too much, Tonks,” Sirius said wryly. “You might be Moody’s protégé, but he’s still your boss.”

   “And sometimes he can be a right ass,” Tonks shot back. “I’ve got a right to feel a bit of schadenfreude about this.”

   “Then I have what I need,” Harry said, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. “Toss me a sheet of parchment and a quill –”

    “We’ve got to be more careful than that,” Tonks cut him off, pulling up her own bag and quickly rummaging around inside of it. After a few seconds, she pulled an acid-green quill out and tossed it onto the slightly crumpled paper had pulled from a stack on the counter. “Most Aurors know spells that can trace handwritten notes, and the last thing you want is Scrimgeour tracking you just because your finger touched the ink on the parchment.”

    Harry eyed the Quick-Quotes Quill with disgust. “And how will using that thing help me? It’ll twist my words –”

    “Maybe a bit, but the tougher the letter sounds to Scrimgeour, the better,” Tonks replied bracingly, crossing her arms over her chest. “He’s not an easy man to intimidate. Plus, you can’t track letters written with one of these things. After all, why do you think Rita Skeeter was so successful with her work?”

   “A bit too successful for my taste,” Harry muttered, but he eyed the paper speculatively.

   “Do you know what you’re going to say?”

   Harry let out a brief, harsh laugh. “Sirius, for once, this’ll be the easy part.”

*          *          *    

   “You’ve got a report?” Dmitri Kemester growled.

   “Goblins won’t let us in,” Reed Larshall, a snub-nosed, heavy-jawed man who was one of Kemester’s best subordinates, said roughly. “They want to keep the situation internal, and they’re currently working on interrogating the witnesses.”

   “They were doing that a half hour ago,” Kemester said with exasperation. “Has there been progress?”

   “They’re sealing the bank tight,” Larshall grunted, running a hand through the short, bristly hair that covered his scalp, “but they did say if ‘the Ministry manages to procure a binding warrant, they might let us inside to watch.’ Bloody shit-eating goblin wretches –”

   “Though we both know it’s true, saying it won’t get us anywhere,” Kemester said in a low warning voice, “especially if the goblins are watching us, and I know they are. Any sign of who set off the damned fireworks?”

   “No reports yet, but Barkley said the damage is nothing like he’s seen before, and he used to be in Experimental Charms. Not strong enough to be a serious explosive, but still making quite a noisy flashy bang when they’re dropped.”

   “Any idea how they were set off?”

   “Evidence points to a few crates dropped from upper story windows of some of the shops, while the rest were rigged to blow when the others were set off. It looks like a pretty crude job, but it’s not like it needed to be well-timed or anything – it just needed the dropped fireworks to set off the rigged ones.”

   “They did their job, Reed,” Kemester said heavily, “and Potter got away from us again. Heard from Bones yet?”

   “She’s in meetings with Scrimgeour this morning, but the other Hit Wizards at the office are wondering what the hell is going on here. And the Aurors know something’s up,” Larshall added in a low voice. “And you know better than anyone the Prophet’ll be here soon.”

   Kemester rubbed his jaw in contemplation for a few seconds before slamming a fist into his palm. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. Call the office and tell them to send another two squads down here. We need this area cordoned off as a crime scene and somebody to keep the Prophet well away from this until we can show them something that’ll get them on our side. Get somebody from Experimental Charms down here so maybe they can examine some of that firework debris and find a maker. Then,” Kemester took a deep breath, “send an emergency message to the Minister.”

   Larshall went pale. “You sure that’s the best option, Dmitri? I mean, we don’t have anything yet –”

   “If I know Cornelius Fudge, he’ll want to make a publicity statement regarding this,” Kemester said, his teeth on edge as he threw another scathing glare at Gringotts, “and maybe if we’re lucky he’ll have the political clout for us to get in Gringotts and get some solid information. Follow me so far?”

   “Cordon the area with two new squads, Experimental Charms, call the Minister… anything else?”

   “One last thing,” Kemester said, lowering his voice and leaning close to Larshall. “I want you to go back to the Ministry and get a small squad of your own for a quick operation. I want you to go to Kingsley Shacklebolt’s residence – look it up the Auror registry if you have to – and check to see if Potter’s there.”

   “You think –”

   “I don’t want to be fucked over on the details,” Kemester said quickly, his eyes aflame, “by something I’ve overlooked. If Potter’s not there, search the premise completely and get the hell out before Shacklebolt’s alarms go crazy. If he is there, get him into Ministry custody and his wand out of his hands. If he tries to run… you have permission to do what it takes to take him down. Try and take him in one piece, but if you can’t…”

   “And if Shacklebolt’s already back at his residence?” Larshall asked worriedly. “I mean, blimey, Dmitri, if he’s there, think of what the Prophet’ll say about this… Hit Wizards investigating Aurors…”

   Kemester set his jaw. “Well, I guess you’ll have to be really careful, then, won’t you, Reed?”

   Larshall swallowed hard. “Okay, Dmitri, but what if –”

   “Sir, we’ve got a witness!”

   “Larshall, go,” Kemester said tensely, “I’ve got to deal with this.” He turned quickly to the approaching Hit Wizard, a brawny fellow with sloping eyebrows that Kemester knew as Dwight. Damn Bones for sending these green Hit Wizards out into the field, but I needed a team quick, and it’s not like I had much of a choice…

   But to Kemester’s surprise, Dwight was accompanied by someone – a man with thinning hair and gold-rimmed spectacles, wearing a brown Muggle suit. The man looked anxious, and Kemester was immediately wary. Dwight may be green, but he knows better than to let any old wizard come up to me… this better be good.

   “Sir, this is Vesparian Welmon, a Gringotts accountant,” Dwight said, giving his superior a sharp nod. “He claims that… well, he had an encounter with the ‘intruder’ that broke into Gringotts.”

   “Claims that,” Kemester said suspiciously. “Any proof?”

   “I want protection,” Welmon said, swallowing hard. “And I want complete confidentiality – nothing to implicate me or the bank. I was the one who tipped off the goblins that he was Gringotts anyways – albeit not as quickly as they would have liked.”

   “How did you get out of there so quickly?” Kemester pursued, his eyebrows narrowing as he motioned for Welmon to sit down at the paper-covered table that he had ‘borrowed’ from Fortescue’s ice-cream parlour for a few Sickles. “The little bastards haven’t been letting anybody out –”

   “I know the right people, and they know better not to cross me,” Welmon replied stiffly. “I’ve worked at that bank for years, and that’s earned me a certain amount of respect.”

   Arrogant berk, Kemester thought as he sat down across the accountant. He thinks I give a damn…

   “And there is a back exit for those with enough seniority,” Welmon finished with a sniff.

   “Pity Potter didn’t know about that, it would have made his escape all the easier,” Kemester said idly, examining his fingernails.

   Welmon went white. “How did you –”

   “Don’t play games with me, accountant, I know who broke into Gringotts,” Kemester growled, leaning across the table. He kept his grim expression, despite his smug triumph. I was right – Potter broke in after all. But what did he want? “So why was he in there?”

   “He wanted information,” Welmon said instantly. “But… well, from what I’ve heard, I don’t understand why he was after it –”

   “Leave the reasoning for someone who knows how to do it,” Kemester cut him off forcefully. “Tell me what Potter wanted.”

   “Information about an old accountant named Matthis, who died nearly a decade ago,” Welmon said in a low voice. “He was looking for the accountant who closed the Rosier accounts, and Matthis was the one who did that. H-he wasn’t even looking for the information on the Potter vaults, which was what I thought he might have been after –”

   “That was before Potter was even born!” Kemester snarled, cutting off Welmon’s babbling. “Why does he even care?”

   “I don’t know why he even came to me!” Welmon replied angrily. “There are dozens of other accountants he could have talked to…”

   “Have you had any relationship with Potter in the past?” Kemester asked, yanking a free scrap of parchment out and scribbling new information. If this can help me understand and track Potter…

   “The closest relative to Potter that I ever worked with was Sirius Black, and it’s not like he would have told Potter anything –”

   Kemester froze. “Black, you say? Escaped mass-murderer, Sirius Black? The one who confronted Potter just over a year ago?”

   Welmon’s eyes were wide. “Potter met Black and survived?”

   “It wasn’t well circulated, but Magical Law Enforcement found out from Fudge himself,” Kemester muttered, his mind churning. Shacklebolt’s in charge of Black’s investigation – and he’s also the one who caught Potter. Is there some sort of connection that I’m missing here?

   He looked up to hear several loud cracks as two dozen more Hit Wizards and Magical Law Enforcement officials Apparated into Diagon Alley, all with wands drawn. The commander, a scarred fellow named Leon Sanders – and Kemester’s immediate subordinate – quickly spotted Kemester and strode over, his eyes flashing.

   “You’ve got quite a mess on your hands, Dmitri,” Sanders said bluntly, his eyes flashing as they looked over the piles of papers strewn over Kemester’s table. “You need a hand?”

   “I’ll need more than one,” Kemester muttered, getting to his feet. “I need your help.”

   “Obviously.”

   “There’s a suspected leak in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and I want it plugged before Bones and Scrimgeour get involved,” Kemester said briskly. “I want you to get back to the Ministry with two of your best and take Shacklebolt in for questioning. Don’t bother getting Scrimgeour’s permission; we’ll deal with the political mess later.”

   “And if he asks why?” Sanders asked, cocking an eyebrow.

   “Say that it’s part of an investigation,” Kemester replied, lowering his voice. “Best case scenario is that he’s just unaware and incompetent.” His eyes glinted with cool triumph as they met the business-like gaze of his best combat specialist.

   “Worst case he’s a spy and a traitor.”

*          *          *

   “So, how does it look?” Harry asked as Tonks finally whisked away the Quick-Quotes Quill back into her bag.

   Sirius whistled slowly as he read the letter. “He won’t like it, that’s for damned sure.”

   “The devil’s in the details, though,” Tonks noted, rubbing her chin appreciatively before taking a quick swig of Butterbeer. “Your offer’s simple enough, but the little comments are what makes this thing dangerous, and most of them only Scrimgeour will be able to understand.”

   “Which is what I want,” Harry finished coolly.

   Tonks suddenly frowned, worry crossing her face. “You know, Harry, there’s a big possibility that Scrimgeour could enter this as evidence in your trial… and it could be damaging evidence too. That you tried to bribe and blackmail the Head of the Auror Department…”

   “Scrimgeour’s too savvy for that,” Sirius replied, finishing off his Butterbeer with a long drink. “And if he ever released that letter, the Prophet would find out, and the implications alone would be the death of his political career. You’ve got a work of art there, Harry.”

   Harry snorted. “Maybe.” He got up slowly and shoved the folders back into his bag. “I’m going to go talk to Ron and Hermione and start preparing for that court case… odds is the implications won’t be enough on their own to get me out of the trial. Can Hedwig deliver this?”

   “That’s a very bad idea,” Tonks said sharply, carefully picking up the letter with two fingers, careful not to touch any of the ink. “Owls can be tracked, and you don’t want them finding us here. I’m not sure how owls work with the Fidelius Charm, anyways –”

   “Thanks, Tonks,” Harry said with a smile of relief as he headed towards the door. He carefully turned the doorknob –

    “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Mr. Potter and his merry band of miscreants,” Severus Snape spat with disgust, as he moved from his position against the wall.

   “Snape,” Sirius growled, “you’d better have a damn good reason for being in my house right now, because I’ve had a very trying morning.”

   “Doubtless, with the extreme amount of work that you’ve had to do,” Snape replied with a sneer. “So Potter, no longer good enough for Weasley and Granger, or even the werewolf? Taking up arms with an entire different breed of felon – an escaped convict and a traitorous Auror. And to think that you were supposed to be the hero.”

   Harry clenched his fist, his urge to throttle Snape burning in his gut, but he knew that slugging the Potions Master would only make things worse. “I need to work with people I can trust,” he growled, “and you’re not one of them.”

   “Indubitably,” Snape said, his lip curling with disgust.

   “How long were you listening at the door, Snivellus?” Sirius snarled, his eyes blazing with fury as his hand slid towards his wand – a motion being slowly mimicked by Tonks, and one that Snape noted instantly. Not good odds for the bastard, Harry noted with savage triumph.

   “Even despite the fact that your charms were lamentable and easily broken, I do not listen at doors like a coward –”

    Bullshit, Harry thought, remembering with a surge of rage that Snape’s eavesdropping had resulted in the deaths of his parents.

   “–And the only reason I am here is because I was contacted by your pet werewolf, Black,” Snape finished with a sneer. “Apparently, he was rather distraught to discover that Potter no longer trusted him, and he felt that someone in the ‘Order needed to be notified to protect Mr. Potter before he does something rash’. Unfortunately, given that most members of the Order were either occupied with their jobs or with missions, I received the utterly detestable role of investigating Potter’s latest advent of rashness and stupidity.”

   “Does Dumbledore –”

   “The Headmaster has been in meetings with the Ministry all day, Miss Tonks,” Snape replied coolly, “so he likely does not know of this development.”

   Thank Merlin for that, Harry thought, still glaring daggers at Snape. At least I still have some time… and I guess I was right about Lupin, too. And I really wanted to trust him…

   “Well, Potter?”

   Harry looked up and met Snape’s cold black eyes. “My business,” he began, “is not your concern, Professor. And Tonks is no traitor.”

   “I was in Diagon Alley less than an hour ago, Potter, and there were cordons surrounding Gringotts, manned by armed Hit Wizards. When I returned home, a Patronus from Remus Lupin was waiting for me, saying that you had done something. I can connect the dots, Potter – and so can Hit Wizards like Kemester. Your idiocy and rashness is going to put you in Azkaban, and –”

   “It’s not your business if I did anything around Gringotts,” Harry growled, taking a step towards the stairs. “Now if you’d excuse me –“

   The next two seconds were a blur. Snape’s hand darted towards his wand, and with a white flash, Harry saw a furious Snape sprawled at the base of the stairs, his black robes tangled. Sirius’ wand was out.

   “I’m going to say this once,” Sirius growled. “Snivellus, keep your hands off Harry, and get the fuck out of my house!”

   Snape’s eyes were blazing with raw fury as he slowly got to his feet. “Black, your idiocy astounds me.”

   “As does yours,” Sirius shot back, taking another step forward. “I don’t care if you’re Dumbledore’s precious spy or not, I’m still of the opinion you should have died nineteen years ago by the Whomping Willow. Now get out my house before I decide to… revisit the past.”

   “Dumbledore will hear about this!”

   Sirius let out a bark-like laugh. “And he’s not the one who’s prophesied to kill Voldemort – Harry is!”

   “But of course, Professor, you already knew that, didn’t you?” Harry said, his tone conversational as he leaned against the wall, his gaze fixed on the Potions Professor.

   Snape’s face went deathly pale. Without another word, the wizard spun on his heel and vanished with a pop, leaving Harry’s disgusted glare.

   “Harry…” Tonks finally began, her eyes darting nervously back and forth between him and Sirius, “that probably wasn’t the best of –”

   “We don’t need him,” Sirius said shortly, sliding his wand back into his pocket, not meeting the Auror’s eyes. “We don’t need traitors.”

   “You’ll talk to Lupin, won’t you?” Harry asked quietly.

   “Tonks and I will handle that,” Sirius replied grimly. “Merlin only knows why he contacted Snape of all people.”

   “He was worried, probably scared –”

   “Scared, my arse!” Sirius scowled. “The Moony I knew would stand up for his friends, even when times were tough, not go to Snivellus. The Moony I knew had some bloody backbone. Don’t worry, we’ll talk to him. You go find Ron and Hermione… try and see if you can avoid another disaster there.”

   Harry nodded heavily as he slowly climbed the stairs with Sirius and Tonks, his heart pounding in his chest as he slowly pulled open the door on the landing to the room where Ron and Hermione were talking.

   “You don’t have to hide it, you two, I know you were talking about me,” Harry replied tiredly, his voice tinged with disgust as he closed the door quietly and sat down on the sagging bed.

   “You – you’re back!” Ron gasped as he jumped to his feet. “Lupin said you were going to do something crazy –”

   “I’ve already had my craziness today,” Harry replied bitterly, “and I’ve already heard about it from Snape. You two wouldn’t have had anything to do with that, would you?”

   Ron snorted. “Are you kidding me? Did Lupin honestly think that would work, calling Snape here?”

   “We just suggested somebody in the Order come,” Hermione quickly answered. “To make sure you d-didn’t do anything dangerous –”

   “Bit late for that, it’s already been done,” Harry spat, tossing his bag on the bed. “There and back again.”

   “Where were you this morning, mate?” Ron asked with confusion. “I mean, I woke up this morning and Sirius only told me that you were busy with something. Why didn’t you tell us you were leaving?”

   Harry eyed Ron’s open, honest face with thoughtfulness as he wondered if his best friend was trustworthy. He wouldn’t tell Dumbledore… at least I hope he wouldn’t… but I trust him more than I trust Hermione, strange as that feels…

   “I didn’t want you following, or trying to help,” he finally lied, meeting Ron’s expression. “None of us can use magic over the holidays, and it was dangerous enough for just me.”

   “But where did you go?”

   “I can’t tell you that. The less people who know, the better.”

   “Harry, we’re your friends,” Hermione said with concern. “We’d want to help you –”

   “Not with this, you wouldn’t,” Harry cut her off coolly.

   “But I can see your Invisibility Cloak in your bag… and what are those file folders from –”

   Harry snatched his bag away from the bed. “I can’t tell you.”

   Hermione’s eyes went wide. “Harry, this is serious. Did… did you break into something? I mean, t-that knife Sirius gave you is bulging in your pocket next to your wand –”

   “Why are you looking at that region of my pants?” Harry asked with exasperation.

   Ron chuckled under his breath while Hermione went red with indignation. She tossed her hair back and struggled to regain control.

   “But why would you try and break in anywhere? It doesn’t make…”

   Her voice trailed off, and Harry knew that she had begun to connect the dots, just like Snape.

   “Hermione, as much as I want to, I can’t tell you – this is for your own safety here.”

   “You’ve got files in your bag, your Invisibility Cloak, and Sirius’ knife,” Hermione said softly. “And y-you won’t even tell your own friends where you were going, and that means you were breaking into a really dangerous place.”

   “Hermione…”

   “And there’s only two dangerous places like that in Britain, and one of them is the Ministry, and you wouldn’t go there, they’re hunting you –”

    “Hermione!”

   “And that only leaves… Gringotts,” Hermione finished, her eyes wide with astonishment. “How, Harry? How did you get out alive, breaking into one of those vaults?”

    “I didn’t… look, Hermione, this is exactly why I couldn’t tell you anything!” Harry said with frustration.

   But a light was already dawning on Hermione’s face – a light streaked with disapproval, disappointment, and anger.

   “You wouldn’t have gone to Gringotts without a good reason, Harry Potter. Where did you get those files?”

   “An ally gave them to me,” Harry snapped. “I need them for my case!”

   “You don’t have any allies in Gringotts except…” Hermione’s voice trailed off again. “Oh, of course! You got Fleur, didn’t you?”

   “Fleur?” Ron perked up. “As in, Fleur Delacour? How is she?”

   “She’s stuck in a dead-end job that she hates, and I likely Confunded her badly enough that she won’t be able to string together the details of where or who I was,” Harry replied, his temper finally rising back to the surface.

   “You stole files from Gringotts!” Hermione exclaimed, anger and disappointment warring in her voice. “Harry, how could you? Those are personal financial records!”

   Harry didn’t speak – there were a thousand arguments and lies warring in his head for precedence, but he knew none of them would convince Hermione of the rightness of his actions. So he said nothing, and only fixed her with an empty, expectant stare.

   Hermione swallowed hard, her voice only growing more angry with every second. “And there’s only one reason you would have stolen financial records… you’re planning on blackmailing someone, aren’t you?”

   “Hermione, Harry wouldn’t do that!” Ron exclaimed, shocked. “And why would he even –”

   BANG.

   “Harry, we need to talk – now,” Sirius said, his eyes burning with something akin to panic.

   “Sirius, we can’t –”

   “Sirius, did Harry break into Gringotts today?” Hermione interrupted.

   “Hermione, it’s not the time to –”

   “He did, didn’t he?” Hermione gasped, her eyes slightly reddening as she blinked back tears. “Harry, Sirius… how could –”

   “Do you want to see me go to Azkaban for the rest of my life?” Harry asked furiously, his patience finally giving away at her last exclamation. “Do you want that for me, Hermione?”

   “But if you’re going to break the law like this –”

   “And you wonder why I can’t trust you,” Harry spat. “You’ll tell Dumbledore everything I’m doing!”

   “Harry, how can you say –”

   “I know you better than you think, Hermione,” Harry replied grimly.

   “He’s only trying to help you!”

   Harry snorted. “Yeah, on his terms, while I’m the one bleeding.”

   “Harry, that’s not –”

   “Not fair, Sirius? You’re damn right it’s not fair! It’s also not fair that you and I are wanted for murder and that there’s a prophecy stating that I’ve got no choice but to kill Voldemort before he kills me, but I can’t do much about that, can I?” He turned back to Hermione and shook his head. “Life’s not fair, and sometimes… well, sometimes that means you have to be unfair too.”

   He turned back to Sirius. “Let’s go outside.”

   “No need, if they already know,” Sirius said grimly. “And we might want to start packing, too. They’ve arrested Kingsley.”

   Harry’s eyes widened. “Why?”

   “Because according to Moody, they threw charges of gross incompetence and high treason at him, or at least that’s what the word is coming from the Magical Law Enforcement Office. The Hit Wizards took him over lunch break.”

   “But why would we pack?” Ron asked, rubbing his scalp in confusion. “And why would they charge Kingsley with high treason?”

   “Because Kemester likely figured out that his investigation of my whereabouts was fake,” Sirius said, his hands clenching and unclenching nervously. “And if they’ve got him on high treason, they’ve got permission to use Veritaserum without a warrant –”

   “And the first question Kemester will ask is where I am,” Harry finished, his guts beginning to freeze with fear. “But the Fidelius Charm –”

   “You’re not part of the Order, Harry,” Hermione cut him off softly. “The charm only protects the location of the Order – not you. They’ll be coming.”

   “Too late,” Ron said, going pale as he peered out the window. “They’re already here.”