The Potter Conspiracy

A/N: Thanks to all those who have read and reviewed.  Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter.  JKR and her partners do.

Chapter Eleven – Doe-Eyed Deceptions

October 5th, 1995 – Manchester, England

Harry Potter paced anxiously around Dinesh Patil’s small flat, worried about the meeting with Auror Tonks that was about to take place.  She had sent a message back with Dobby, agreeing to his terms, but he didn’t know how much he could trust her.  Dinesh was watching him pace, amused at his inability to stand still.

“You’re not going to piss yourself, are you, lad?”  he asked, smiling.

“Oh, sod off,” Harry snapped back at him.  “This is my life on the line here, and I don’t have anyone watching my back, thanks to you.”

Dinesh shrugged.  “I never signed on to fight Albus Dumbledore, lad.  I’ll apparate you there, but then you’re on your own.  I think my help this morning is worth another 1,000 galleons, yes?”

Harry stopped pacing and glared at the man; he had endured enough of Dinesh’s attempts to goad him into paying more.  “You won’t get a bloody knut if I get caught by Dumbledore—maybe you should think about that.”

Dinesh chuckled in response.  “There’s hope for you yet, Harry Potter.”

Harry shook his head in exasperation and looked at the clock on the wall.  “It’s almost time.  Can you put that glamour on me now?”

Dinesh nodded and moved his wand in a figure-eight pattern across Harry’s chest, before tapping him on the head and whispering an incantation.  He stepped back to admire his handiwork.

Harry looked down at his hands and then strode to a small wall mirror.

“Buggering hell,” he moaned, “are you trying to get me to curse you?”

Harry now had long, curly blond hair, big, blue eyes, and looked to be in his early 20s.  His whole look was decidedly feminine.

Dinesh let out a full belly laugh.  “You’d make a right fair lass, Harry Potter.  Those doe-eyes would make you quite popular.  Not to worry, though—no one would ever expect you to go in disguise as a poofter.  It’s perfect.”

Harry gritted his teeth and wished desperately that he could draw his wand.  Dinesh had been winding him up all morning, and the proverbial camel’s back was close to the breaking point.  He was beginning to wonder if Dinesh was truly related to Parvati and Padma.

“Fine,” he said, in annoyance.  “But you better not be expecting a bloody tip.”

Dinesh didn’t respond to the jibe, but became momentarily serious after he too looked at the clock on the wall.

“It’s about time, Harry Potter.  Remember, that glamour won’t fool them for long if they’re laying a trap for you.  You may have to fight, wand trace or no.”

Harry took a deep breath and exhaled.  “Okay, I’m ready.  Thanks for your help.  I’ll send your money with Dobby as soon as I can; that, or you’ll read my obituary in the Prophet soon.  Let’s do this.”

Dinesh nodded and grabbed Harry’s arm, and with a soft pop the pair left the flat behind.

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Kings Cross Station, just outside the Beefeater Café

Nymphadora Tonks sat on a bench thirty feet outside the small café where she was supposed to be meeting Harry Potter.  She had transformed into the appearance of a bland, older woman, and was trying to remain inconspicuous by casually reading The London Times.

So far Potter had yet to show, but he was only running a couple minutes late.  If he was coming at all, that is.  Tonks’ Auror instincts were on high alert, as something about this entire scenario didn’t smell right to her.  Her backup was concealed within the café, ready for action should there be a confrontation.  She didn’t expect a trap exactly, but she was going to minimize risks as much as she could.

If Harry Potter indeed planned to meet her here, she had to admit that she was impressed with his cunning.  A meeting at King’s Cross, a crowded and busy muggle train station, would make it hard for a significant magical fight to take place.  It would also make it rather easy for someone to fade into a crowd and disappear.

Tonks looked at her watch; Potter was now five minutes late.  She glanced around warily as people passed by, and noticed a foppish-looking young man sitting on a bench twenty meters to her right, also casually reading a newspaper.  Tonks surreptitiously pointed her wand at him, her action concealed by the newspaper, and cast a silent glamour-detection charm.

Gotcha, she thought, seeing the results.

Whoever this was—and likely it was Harry Potter being just as cautious as she was—had to be waiting on her to show.  Then she noticed that this stranger was wearing small, round glasses, and her suspicions were confirmed.  Deciding to force the situation, Tonks rose and approached the young man with the long blond curls.

“Ahem,” she said, clearly her throat and coming to a halt five feet in front of him.  He was eyeing her warily and kept his right arm extended next to him, obviously ready to draw a wand.

“You wouldn’t happen to be wearing a leather wand holster, would you, young man?”  Tonks inquired.

“It depends on who’s asking,” the boy replied, after a brief pause.

Tonks responded by quickly turning her hair a bright pink, then returning it to its disguised brown.

“Tonks?” the young man whispered, his eyes looking at her and then darting around the station.

“Wotcher, Harry,” she smiled at him.  “Nice glamour—pretty eyes.”  Then her face hardened.  “Now I think you owe me some explanation about what the hell you’re doing.  I’m supposed to be hunting you.  Are you alone here?”

“Maybe,” replied Harry cryptically.  “Let’s go over to one of those tables; you can cast a notice-me-not charm around us.”

Tonks nodded, and the duo moved slowly toward one of the open-air tables outside the café.  Neither wanted to spook the other.

“Did you come alone, and did you bring the veritaserum?”  Harry asked abruptly as he seated himself with his back to the café.  Tonks too sat down, whispering an incantation to ensure that their conversation would be a private one.

She raised an eyebrow at his boldness, but nodded.  “I did come alone, despite my better instincts; and you expect me to dose you with truth serum right out here in the open?”  She had no qualms about lying to a teenager when it came to her safety.

Harry shrugged.  “Better than a locked room with a wand in my neck.  It won’t knock me out, right?”

“No,” came the reply.  “But…Harry, explain to me why you want to be questioned with truth serum.  Why did you leave Hogwarts?  Do you really think the Headmaster is trying to kill you?”

Harry glanced around the busy scene, trying to spot anyone who was watching him.  So far this was going well, but there was no telling when someone might spring a trap.

“I know he is, Tonks.  Some, er, friends, overheard an argument that proves it.  I started thinking about how much the old man has controlled my life, and I knew it was true.  I had to run, or he was going to sacrifice me to Voldemort.”

Tonks shivered a bit at the casual use of the Dark Lord’s name, but was otherwise at a loss.  “But…that doesn’t make any sense, Harry.  He had us protecting you from You-Know-Who all summer.  Why would he ‘sacrifice’ you?”

“I don’t know,” said Harry, shaking his head.  “Hermione—she’s my, er, former best friend—seemed to think that my death would save the world, but that’s just crazy.  That’s why I need help, Tonks.  I need information, and I need you—or someone—to find a place for me that’s safe from Dumbledore.”

Tonks exhaled and sat back in her chair.  She had been observing Harry for signs of imperious or compulsion potions, but hadn’t detected anything.  He seemed to be sincere in what he was saying, even if it didn’t make sense.

“Alright, Harry,” she said cautiously, “I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t think you’re lying to me.  Are you truly willing to let me dose you with veritaserum?  You give me your permission?”

“Absolutely, Tonks,” he said without hesitation.  “You’ll see that I’m telling the truth.  Just one thing…don’t ask me who overheard the argument between my friends, okay?  If Dumbledore finds out, they’ll be in a lot of danger.”

“Harry,” Tonks responded, gently.  “I have to ask that question.  What if your source was lying?  What if somebody is trying to mislead you and get you captured?”

“Tonks,” Harry hissed in irritation, “this is not a fucking game to me.  I haven’t been duped, and I’m deadly serious.  If you give me to Dumbledore, I’ll be dead within a week.  And so will the people who know what he’s doing.”

“Harry,” she returned, just as hotly, “you are accusing Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard in Britain, maybe the world, of trying to kill The-Boy-Who-Lived, who is a teenager and his legal ward.  Do you know how crazy that sounds?”

Harry sighed.  “I know, Tonks, I know.  But you have to believe me.  If you don’t, I’m dead.  I want an oath that you’re not going to turn me into the old man, and that you’re not going to tell him who helped me.”

Now Tonks snorted in surprise.  “A binding magical oath?  Are you nuts, Harry?  I’m a member of the Order; I have to report to him.”

“Then swear you won’t report me for three days, Tonks.  Look into it.  Give me that much time.  Find somebody, maybe another Auror, who doesn’t like Dumbledore and will hear me out.”

“Tell me who’s been helping you, Harry, and I might swear an oath,” she bargained, trying to get more information.

“No deal,” said Harry.  “I’m not being manipulated by some Death Eater, Tonks.  Give me credit for some fucking common sense.  I like you, and you seem like a decent person.  But I’m begging you, Tonks, you have to trust me just a little, and you’ll see I’m right.”

Exasperated at the teenager in front of her but curious about his obvious desperation, she agreed.  “Alright, Harry,” she said, raising the tip of her wand to the edge of the table top, “I, Nymphadora Tonks, swear upon my magic that I will not turn Harry Potter over to Albus Dumbledore for the next…two days.  Nor will I reveal who has been helping him.”

Harry noticed her subtraction of a day, but breathed a huge sigh of relief at having received her oath.  It didn’t immediately occur to him that she could still take him prisoner without violating her oath.  She made a discreet hand motion to her partner.

“Thank you, Tonks,” he smiled, something that made him look incredibly smarmy in his glamour form.  “Now I believe you have a potion for me?”

Tonks sighed, and removed a small vial from her muggle purse.  “I can’t believe I’m doing this, Harry.  You better have something bloody interesting to say.”

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October 5, 1995 – London, England; Auror Safe House

Amelia Bones knocked three times in rapid succession on the door to one of the Auror safe houses in London.  She was extremely busy, and was irritated that one of her junior Aurors had practically demanded her presence.  She carried an evidence pensieve in the crook of her left arm, and her right was ready to draw her wand.  It was extremely rare to be summoned by one of her subordinates in such a manner.

She relaxed a little when the door was opened by Nymphadora Tonks; she was fond of Tonks—one of the few other female Aurors—but often grew impatient with her relaxed attitude to duty.  Amelia was a strict disciplinarian, and rarely relaxed when she was performing her official duties.

Tonks opened the door wider to admit her, and Bones was surprised to find Harry Potter—the very boy whom she had been investigating in recent weeks—seated at a table in the small sitting room.  What is going on here? she thought in sudden dread.  Why is Harry Potter in an Auror safe house and not in Hogwarts?

Looking from Harry to Tonks, she asked with some impatience, “Auror Tonks, what exactly is going on here?  You brought Harry Potter to a secret safe house, and now demand my presence and a pensieve?  Explain yourself.”

“I apologize, Director,” responded Tonks in a meek tone that Harry had never heard from her, “but this is an emergency of sorts.  I just had a meeting with Harry, and, well—he insisted that I question him under veritaserum—and you need to know what he told me.  Something really strange is going on.”

Director Bones’ eyebrows had shot up sharply at the mention of veritaserum, a restricted potion, and she looked from Tonks to Harry in incredulity.  Shaking her head, she said, “Start from the beginning, Auror Tonks.  This is not making sense.  Why is Mr. Potter not in Hogwarts?”

“Er,” interjected Harry, clearing his throat.  “Madam Bones, I’m sorry to inconvenience you.  Tonks is just trying to help me.  I left Hogwarts two days ago because I discovered that, um, Professor Dumbledore is trying to get me killed.  I know how ridiculous it sounds, but it’s true.  I had to leave, and I made contact with Tonks and demanded that she give me truth serum.  She hasn’t done anything wrong.”

Madam Bones digested this new information in silence, not knowing how to respond to such seemingly absurd claims.

Tonks took over for Harry.  “Director, that’s why I wanted you to bring the pensieve.  You can see the, er, interrogation, and then decide what we should do…”

She hesitated here, and Director Bones noticed.

“Yes, Auror?” she prompted.

“Well, ma’am,” Tonks breathed reluctantly, “I…can’t really tell you.  I swore an oath to Professor Dumbledore not to reveal something to you…”

Tonks looked at Harry pleadingly, and he obliged her.

“Madam Bones, you’ll see in the memory that I wasn’t lying about Voldemort’s return.  He really is back.  What Tonks can’t tell you is that Professor Dumbledore has been gathering a group of people to fight him, but for some reason—I don’t know why, exactly—he demanded that they not tell you.”

“I’m sorry, Director,” Tonks added to his narrative, wondering whether she had just destroyed her career as an Auror.

She had thought hard about what to do after questioning Harry, and she was convinced that he was telling the truth.  The Headmaster was doing some things that were highly illegal and made little sense, and this was something that she could not in good conscience withhold from her boss.

Bones looked between the two of them several times, trying to discern if this was a prank of some kind.  Shaking her head in confusion, she drew her wand and tried to detect other presences within the small flat.  Finding nothing, she said, “Fine, I don’t know what’s going on here, but I want some answers.  Auror Tonks, please place your memory of the veritaserum questioning in the pensieve, and then all three of us shall enter.”

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When the three of them emerged from the pensieve twenty minutes later, Bones had an unreadable look on her face.  She looked between Harry and Tonks, and then spoke to Harry.

“Mr. Potter, I need to see your memory’s of Voldemort’s rebirth.  You need not relive it, but Auror Tonks and I need to see it.  I want you to bring your memories of it to the forefront of your mind, and close your eyes.”

Harry nodded and closed his eyes, shivering a little when he felt Bones’ wand make contact with his temple.  He could feel something wet and cool being removed from his head, and it was the oddest sensation he’d ever experienced, even stranger than being sucked into a small bowl to relive his earlier conversation with Tonks.

“Thank you, Mr. Potter.  Now please have a seat and wait while we view it.”

Harry watched as Amelia Bones and Nymphadora Tonks put their faces into the stone bowl to watch his memory.  He was surprised that their bodies didn’t disappear into the bowl.  Shouldn’t they be drowning? he wondered in confusion.  It had felt like his whole body was sucked into the pensieve when they viewed the earlier memory, and he had no idea what sort of magic could project someone’s mind into a mere memory.

When the pair emerged from the bowl ten minutes later, both were pale and stricken-looking.  Tonks cheerful demeanor was nowhere to be found, and Madam Bones sat heavily in one of the chairs.  She stared into space for a few seconds, then in the blink of an eye drew her wand and thrust it toward an ottoman in the corner of the room.  The ottoman exploded in a shower of wood, fabric, and stuffing, surprising Harry enough that he slid out of his chair and dove to the floor for cover.

Tonks made no move for cover, but looked just as surprised at Harry.

Director Bones looked to be shaking with rage.  “Auror Tonks, just what in the bloody fucking hell were you thinking, agreeing to conceal this information from me?  Are you trying to get everyone killed?  I’m considering tossing your arse into Azkaban to rot, Voldemort or no,” she spat.

Tonks, never having seen her boss swear, or even lose her temper, for that matter, stared open-mouthed while she tried to formulate a response.

“I, er…well…I…I’m sorry, Director.  Professor Dumbledore said that…”  Tonks stuttered out.

“And Albus Dumbledore may be joining you there,” Bones interrupted her, practically shouting.  Silence reigned for ten seconds, and Harry and Tonks glanced nervously at each other.

“Sweet Merlin,” Bones murmured, shaking her head.  “What is Albus thinking?”

Tonks straightened a little, and looked at her superior.  “Director, I apologize for my part in this, and I will gladly do whatever I can to help rectify the situation.  I will turn in my badge today, if you want it,” she said, more confidently than she felt.

Bones stared her down for another ten seconds.  “You will most definitely be making amends, Auror, but you will not be turning in your badge.  If that monster is back, we’re going to need every capable wand we’ve got.  But what you are going to do is tell me everything you know about Dumbledore’s little group of vigilantes, and then you’re going to swear an oath to report to me everything you learn in the future.  We’ll find a way to work around your oath to Dumbledore, just like we did here.”

Tonks nodded meekly.  “Yes, Director.”

Harry had followed this exchange in fascination, his sense of impending doom finally beginning to lift.  Bones clearly wasn’t a part of any conspiracy against him, and she seemed powerful enough to protect him from Dumbledore.  He decided to put himself in the conversation.

“Excuse me, Madam Bones,” he began hesitantly, “but is there somewhere I can stay that’s safe from Dumbledore?  And Voldemort too,” he added as an afterthought.

Bones turned her attention to him, staring at him in thought.  “I don’t know what’s going on, Mr. Potter, or why Dumbledore wants to sacrifice you to the Dark Lord.  But you have my word that I will do my utmost to protect you from him.  Let me think the matter over, and we will find a safe place for you to hide.  You will be safe enough here for now.  I have other important matters to attend to now, and I will need to take this memory with me.”

Harry nodded, and rose with her as she stood to go.  “Thank you, Madam Bones,” he said sincerely.  “You don’t know how relieved I am that you can help me.”

He paused for a second, and decided to push his luck on the issue of Gringotts.  “Madam Bones, I need to find a way to get to Gringotts.  I owe money to the person who helped me escape, and I need to know how much money I have in my vault,” he said, helpfully holding up his vault key.

Bones thought for a second, then acquiesced.  “Very well, Mr. Potter.  It’s probably best to take care of that straight away, before Dumbledore knows that you’re in my custody.  We’ll worry about your problems with magic later.”

“Auror Tonks,” she continued, turning to her subordinate, “you are to come with me to the Ministry for a debriefing, then you shall return here with Auror Savage and accompany Mr. Potter to Gringotts.  Be sure that you are properly disguised, and that you can evade Dumbledore’s agents, whoever they are.”

Tonks, though still somewhat abashed, nodded and winked at Harry.  “Happy to, ma’am.”

“Very well,” Madam Bones said.  “Mr. Potter, you are to stay in this house until Auror Tonks returns.  I will adjust the wards so that you will not have unexpected company.  We shall find you a permanent place to stay shortly.  Now, come, Auror Tonks, and let’s see just how badly you’ve botched things.”

Harry agreed readily and breathed another sigh of relief as the two women departed.  Madam Bones appeared to have taken charge of the situation, and it felt good not to have to rely solely on his own wits.  Bones reminded him of an even sterner version of Professor McGonagall.  He ran his hand through his hair and sat down in one of the chairs.  A powerful urge to laugh overcame him.  I’m going to be okay, he smiled internally.  I’m going to figure this out, and I’m going to see Dumbledore in bloody Azkaban.

He hadn’t quite grasped the impossibility of such a thing ever occurring.

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Isle of Wight, One Hour Later

Albus Dumbledore apparated onto a wide, rolling plain with his wand raised above his head, ready to bring down a powerful curse that would shock everything touching the ground in his vicinity.  He would not let the boy escape this time.

He was met not by the sight of Harry Potter, but of Remus Lupin and Alastor Moody, both crouching and pointing their wands at him.

“Where is he?  What’s happening?”  Dumbledore asked hurriedly.

Moody spat disgustedly on the ground.  “No idea.  There’s nobody within miles of this bloody place, Albus.  Look around.”

Dumbledore took stock of his surroundings, and saw nothing but green rolling hills in every direction.  In the distance he saw sheep grazing on a hillside, but no sign of human habitation.

He looked in confusion at his colleagues.

Lupin just shrugged.  “I have no idea either, Headmaster.  Harry used his wand less than a minute ago, and we tracked it to here.  Somebody must have apparated him away immediately, but why would they come to the middle of nowhere on the Isle of Wight?”

Dumbledore furrowed his brow in thought and then raised his wand.  He cast several types of detection spells, but could turn up no other signs of recent magic in the area.

“I don’t understand,” Dumbledore sighed tiredly, “but we need to search this area thoroughly.  Alastor, have someone cover for you outside Gringotts, then gather a small team and split up.  See if you can find anything of magical significance around here.  Question muggles if you have to; just be sure to obliviate them.  Remus, please go ahead and start searching.”

Lupin turned obediently to begin his task, leaving Dumbledore and Moody to apparate away from the mystifying scene.

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Diagon Alley, outside Gringotts Bank

While Albus Dumbledore and Alastor Moody were swearing at their lost opportunity and wondering what had just happened, Harry Potter and Nymphadora Tonks were walking up the steps of Gringotts Bank, followed at a distance by disguised Auror Julian Savage.  Tonks had reacquired her dowdy, middle-aged appearance, and, just to amuse herself, had restored Harry’s doe-eyed dandy glamour charm.  It wasn’t as if he could curse her in retaliation, after all.

It had been just over an hour since their initial meeting with Madam Bones, and Tonks’ ego had taken quite a beating during that hour.  She had spilled her guts to Madam Bones as much as her oath allowed, something which caused her both immense relief and immense guilt.  She didn’t feel like a traitor in the fight against Voldemort, but disobeying Albus Dumbledore’s orders didn’t sit right with her either.  She didn’t know what to think of the day’s revelations, except that things were a lot more complicated than they first appeared.  

She knew that Moody was watching the entrance to Gringotts, and so she and Savage had planned a little misdirection to get him to move.  It worked like a charm, and now Harry could enter Gringotts without being detected by Moody’s roving magical eye.

Leaving Savage to stand guard outside, Harry and Tonks entered the bank and approached the nearest teller.

“Excuse me,” Harry began, looking at the goblin a little nervously.  This was only his second time in Gringotts, and he had really never had a chance to interact with them.

“Yes?” the teller responded.

“I need to see someone about my vault.  In private,” Harry nearly whispered.

“Key, please?” the goblin answered in a bored tone.

Harry handed his key over warily.  The goblin looked at it closely and then ran his finger along a thick ledger.  His eyebrow rose slightly when he discovered the identity of the key’s owner.

“Please follow me,” he said in a more professional tone.  “You will need to verify your identity with a manager.”

Harry and Tonks followed the diminutive creature to a small antechamber at the far end of the lobby, where he stopped and held up his hand.  “My apologies, but only the key holder may enter this chamber.  It is for security reasons, to prevent coercion and ensure privacy.  There are no exceptions.”

Tonks looked a little uncertain at this, but Harry reassured her.  “It’s alright, Tonks.  I don’t think it will take long, and you can go with me to my vault.”

Tonks nodded, and watched Harry disappear into the room.

Harry found himself in a marble-walled room with sparse decorations and the occasional shield or dagger on the walls.  An older-looking goblin looked up at him from a massive desk.

“I am Drecksack,” the goblin said imperiously.  “How may I help you?”

“Hello,” Harry responded.  “I’m Harry Potter, but I’m under a glamour charm.  I need to know how much I have in my vaults and make a withdrawal.”

The goblin stared at him for a moment, then pulled a piece of parchment and a small dagger from within his desk.

“Very well, Mr. Potter, I need you to confirm your identity.  Please place a drop of blood on the parchment.”

Harry complied, careful not to cut his hand too deeply.

Satisfied with whatever information the parchment conveyed to him, the goblin relaxed slightly and motioned for Harry to be seated.  He slid Harry’s vault key toward him across the desk.

“Have a seat, Mr. Potter.  I shall return in a moment with your vault information.”

Harry nodded as the goblin rose and departed, and took a moment to look around the office.  It was not what he would have expected to find in a goblin office.  It was a bank, he knew, but Harry had envisioned the goblins inhabiting dark rooms with low torchlight and rock walls.  This room was bright and practically gaudy despite its sparse decoration.

After a moment Drecksack returned with three small folders.  “Mr. Potter, your vault statements are in order, but your guardian has stipulated that you may only withdraw funds from your first trust vault, and only 1,000 galleons at a time.”

It took a moment for the goblin’s words to make sense to Harry.  Vaults?  Plural?  And there’s a limit on what I can I take out?

He was torn between confusion and anger for a moment, finally settling on a discontented frown.  “I don’t understand,” said Harry.  “I thought I had only one vault, and why can’t I take out as much I want?  It’s my money, isn’t it?”

The goblin narrowed his eyes at Harry’s response, thinking perhaps he was being made a fool of, and responded.  “No, Mr. Potter, you have three vaults, as you should well know.”  He peered at the folders in his hand.

“You have the trust vault created by your parents, currently containing just over 22,000 galleons, the Potter family vault, from which you may not withdraw funds until you reach your majority, and another trust vault created for you by Sirius Black.”

Harry nearly forgot to breathe as this new revelation tried to register in his mind.  Three vaults?  What the hell?  And Sirius-Bloody-Black, the man who betrayed my parents?  What is going on?

“I…” Harry began in confusion, “I don’t understand.  Can I see those documents please?”

Drecksack handed them over obligingly, and Harry opened each of them with shaking hands.  He examined each thin folder carefully, looking at the dates of creation and the contents of each vault.

He had 22,035 galleons in his trust vault, which had been created by his parents not long after his birth.  He apparently also controlled the Potter family vault, which contained just over 1.2 million galleons and unspecified family heirlooms.  It had been founded in 1447.  Merlin, I’m rich, Harry thought.

The final vault left him totally confused.  Sirius Black, his parents’ betrayer, had created a trust vault for him, again not long after his birth.  It contained 17,000 galleons and other unspecified contents.

Harry’s face grew red in frustration at yet another thing Dumbledore had concealed from him.  His heart raced, and he had to restrain himself from imitating Madam Bones and drawing his wand to destroy something.

“I want to visit all three of these vaults,” he gritted out.  “And I want to empty my trust vault.  Today.  Albus Dumbledore has no right to that money, guardian or no.”

The goblin was slightly taken aback at Harry’s sudden mood swing.  “I’m sorry, Mr. Potter, but your guardian has given specific instructions.  You may visit the other vaults, but I’m afraid you can’t withdraw more than 1,000 galleons from your trust vault.”

Harry sat in silence for almost thirty seconds, his blood boiling and his mind working furiously.  Fuck this, he finally thought.  Maybe this little bastard is as greedy as Dinesh is.

“2,000 galleons,” Harry spoke into the silence.

“Pardon me?”

“2,000 galleons,” Harry repeated.  “I will give you 2,000 galleons in exchange for allowing me to empty my trust vault and to take whatever heirlooms I want from the other vaults.  I’ll leave the money.”

The goblin studied Harry for a few seconds, and then smirked evilly.

“You do realize that it’s illegal to bribe a Gringott’s employee, Mr. Potter?”  Drecksack said.

“Don’t care,” Harry replied tersely.  “I’m not trying to steal anything.  That money belongs to me, and if you don’t tell Dumbledore about this I know I won’t.  So do you want to be 2,000 galleons richer or not?”

Drecksack considered Harry again, and eventually broke into a wide, sharp-toothed smile.  “It’s unfortunate for Albus Dumbledore, Mr. Potter, that his instructions for your vault were accidentally misplaced by a new employee this morning.  In an unrelated coincidence, I earned a 5,000 galleon bonus today.”

Harry clenched his jaw at being shaken down yet again.  He was relieved that greed was such a universal motivator, but it was getting tiresome to be constantly passing around his inheritance for simple favors.  This time he felt he could afford to do a little bargaining.

“3,000,” Harry responded curtly.

“4,000 it is, then, Mr. Potter,” smiled Drecksack.  “I find your terms acceptable, provided you keep to them.”

At the small nod of Harry’s head, he continued.

“One of our employees will accompany you into your vaults, to ensure that you withdraw no galleons from them.  Would you like to visit your trust vault too, or shall I have its contents placed in one of our trunks and have it waiting for you?”

Harry thought for a moment.  “Please just empty it for me.  It’s the others that I need to visit.”

“Bumchod!” yelled Drecksack, and a small, surly-looking goblin entered through a hidden door.  “You are to accompany Mr. Potter and his companion to his vaults.  He may withdraw whatever items he wishes, but no money whatsoever.  Do you understand?”

Bumchod nodded and looked stupidly at Harry.  Harry supposed the goblins that got stuck riding the vault carts were stuck there for a reason.

“Thank you for your, er, cooperation,” Harry said to Drecksack.

“My pleasure, Mr. Potter, my pleasure,” Drecksack grinned, and Harry hoped dearly that he was done bribing people for awhile.

Harry followed Bumchod out of the room and they reacquired a Tonks who was very curious and slightly alarmed at the duration of Harry’s meeting.

“What took so bloody long?” she asked in a whisper, as they walked to the vault cars.

“I’ll explain later,” Harry replied.  “Right now I just want to visit my vaults and get the hell out of this place.”

The vault ride took less time than either had expected, and soon Harry was standing outside the Potter family vault.  Tonks looked on in interest as he stared at the door, which was engraved with his family crest.  Closing his eyes and shaking his head, Harry said nothing as he gave Bumchod his key and watched the goblin open the vault with a stroke of his finger.

The door unsealed to reveal a rather large room with unadorned stone walls.

The trio entered and looked around in curiosity.  Harry wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find in his centuries-old family vault, but this wasn’t it.  He had expected to find mounds of galleons, of which there were indeed plenty, but he had also expected to see trunks full of jewels, medieval swords and suits of armor, chests full of personal mementos, and perhaps even a talking painting or two.

None of that was present.

Aside from the massive stacks of galleons that occupied one-third of the available space, there were only five medium-sized trunks stacked in one corner of the room.  They looked old and worn, and Harry doubted that they contained anything of immense value.

Having nothing to really explore here, Harry wanted to exit quickly.

“Tonks, can you shrink down those trunks so we can take them with us?  I want to see what’s in them later,” he said.

But Bumchod interrupted.  “No magic in Gringotts,” he said, as if automatically.

“How about I give you 100 galleons to forget that fucking rule?” Harry snapped in irritation, sick of the truly stupid obstacles that kept presenting themselves.  He walked over to a pile of galleons and gestured at them, inviting Bumchod to help himself.

The goblin hesitated, but such a temptation was more than he could bear.  

“Just the shrinking,” he glowered, emptying 100 galleons from the pile into a small pouch that was tied to his waist.  Harry half hoped that someone would be aware of the small disappearance and blame Bumchod.

Tonks obliged by shrinking the trunks and handing them to Harry, and the trio made their exit.

Now it was time to visit the mystery vault.  Harry wondered anxiously what he would find in the vault of the betrayer.  Why would he leave me a bloody trust vault if he wanted my family dead? he speculated in vain.

“Where are we going now?” Tonks asked as they sped through the darkness.

“I’ve got another trust vault,” Harry yelled back at her through the rushing wind.  “For some reason it was left to me by Sirius Black, the bastard who betrayed my parents.  I want to see what’s in it.”

Tonks didn’t respond, but she was stunned at Harry’s answer.

When they arrived, they exited the cart and watched while Bumchod opened the door.  Tonks was now just as curious as Harry, but felt it was wise to conceal her familial relation to Sirius Black for the present.  She too wondered just what such a man would leave The-Boy-Who-Lived.

This vault was much smaller than even his other trust vault.  It contained only the 17,000 galleons that Harry had seen in his statement, plus a small sealed envelope placed at the base of the pile.  It had Harry’s full name on it, and there were no other markings.

Harry and Tonks stared at the envelope for a few seconds, and Harry eventually stepped forward and pocketed it.  “I’ll read it later,” he said to her questioning look.  “I want to get out of this bloody bank right now.  If I have to bribe one more person today I’m going to lose it.”

Tonks snorted at his tetchiness and they exited the vault, ready to be long gone from Gringotts.  Harry was worried, and with good reason, that some unscrupulous goblin would notify Dumbledore of his appearance there.  He wanted to collect the money from his trust vault and be gone.

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October 5th, 1995 – Bones Manor

Amelia Bones sat at her desk in the family library of Bones Manor and rubbed her temples, trying to relieve the tension headache that she had endured all day.  This morning had started just like any other day, providing no hint that her illusions about the safety of the magical community were about to be shattered.

The cause of her headache was currently sitting in one of her guest rooms and going through trunks full of family heirlooms.  After careful consideration, she thought it best to bring Harry Potter into her own home.  The arrangement need not be permanent, and there was no safer place for him to be while she sorted out why everyone seemed to want him dead.  The wards around her ancestral home were extremely powerful, and would take quite a concerted effort to breach.

Since her meeting with Harry Potter and Nymphadora Tonks, she had made a list of essential tasks that needed to be performed immediately.  A potentially disastrous war with Voldemort was looming on the horizon, and the wizarding world was completely unprepared for it.

She had done some serious thinking this day, and her conclusions were not encouraging.

Minister Fudge had tried to destroy Potter’s reputation, and may very well be aware of Voldemort’s return.  If he were intentionally concealing it, it could spell disaster for the British magical community.  She was well aware of Fudge’s connections to Lucius Malfoy, and of the latter’s influence over the Wizengamot.  If there was a conspiracy to cover up the Dark Lord’s return at this level of government, they would be taken totally by surprise when Voldemort finally began attacking his enemies.

She now had to gather allies and inform them of the truly precarious situation they were in.  But her position was a complicated one.  She had been appointed to her post, and her mandate derived from the approval of the Minister and the Wizengamot.  All senior members of the Ministry had backers on the Wizengamot, or they would never have risen to prominence.

But if she rocked the boat by publicly declaring Voldemort’s return, Fudge and Malfoy probably had enough influence to get her removed, perhaps even arrested.  Even if she went straight to the Daily Prophet, she wasn’t sure they would print her claims.  Cornelius Fudge simply had too much influence there.

She could gather likely allies within the Auror Department, at least those who weren’t loyal to Fudge, and Croaker could do the same among the Unspeakables.  But the big question was Dumbledore.  Just what the hell was the old man thinking, concealing Voldemort’s return and trying to sacrifice Harry Potter?  Even if he were guilty, Bones knew she couldn’t prosecute Dumbledore for anything; he was too important a fighter against Voldemort.

There was clearly more to this than met the eye, and tomorrow she planned to get answers from the man himself.  The fate of the wizarding world was at stake, and he was playing mystifying games with the life of a teenager.  If her suspicions about what Dumbledore had done to the boy’s magic were true, he would have quite a lot to answer for.  If those answers were not forthcoming, she was prepared to…well, that was the question, wasn’t it?  Just how much was she prepared to do battle with Albus Dumbledore in a situation like this?

And so Amelia Bones was now feeling just as hemmed in as Harry Potter had felt prior to his escape from Hogwarts.  She had to tread carefully, or this powder keg could explode without warning.  The young man in her guest rooms would not have been heartened by her reflections.

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A/N: Voila.  Harry finally has some allies.  Next chapter, Bones and Croaker go toe-to-toe with Dumbledore and the results are surprising to all three.  We also get a glimpse of what Lucius Malfoy is up to at the Ministry.  Thanks for reading.