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 Twenty – Rats and Revelations

October 20, 1995 – Bones Manor; The Dungeons

Harry Potter stared at the quivering man before him in disgust.  He, Madam Bones, Croaker, and Auror Proudfoot were gathered around the bound form of Peter Pettigrew, who was now conscious and looking around in terror.  Proudfoot had silenced him to stop his whimpering.  They had provided cursory treatment for his broken bones and then bound him to a chair in one of Bones Manor’s tiny dungeon cells.

Now it was time to question the intruder under veritaserum.  Harry had confirmed that the man was present at Voldemort’s resurrection ceremony, and they had quickly discovered his Dark Mark.  Bones and Croaker agreed to let Harry witness the questioning because of his personal experience with the Death Eater.  

Croaker stunned Pettigrew’s shivering form and tilted his head back.  He applied the three drops of truth serum to his tongue, and then Bones enervated him.  Pettigrew shook his head groggily as he came to.  A dicto-quill stood ready to record his every word.

“What is your name?” began Bones.

“Peter Pettigrew,” replied Wormtail in a monotone.

Bones and Croaker looked at each other in confusion.

“Are you the same Peter Pettigrew who was supposedly murdered by Sirius Black?” Croaker asked.

“Yes.”

“How did you survive?”

“I blew up the street behind me and escaped beneath it in my animagus form.  I left a finger at the scene so it would appear that I was dead.”

“So Sirius Black didn’t kill all those muggles?” Croaker asked wearily.

“No.”

Croaker looked at Harry apprehensively, but the boy had not yet picked up on the implications of Pettigrew’s confession.

“Was Sirius Black the Potters’ Secret Keeper?” he continued, dreading the answer.

“No.”

“Who was?”

“I was.”

Bones closed her eyes in resignation.  Croaker looked again at Harry, who was staring at Pettigrew with his mouth open.  His face had drained of all color as Pettigrew’s words struck home.

“Did Albus Dumbledore cast the fidelius charm on the Potter home?”

“Yes.”

And there it was.  Proof that Dumbledore had known of Black’s innocence all along.  Harry’s face was cycling through several emotions, and Bones too now watched him warily.

“How long have you been a Death Eater?”

“Since the summer of 1979.”

“And it was you who betrayed the Potters to Voldemort?” Croaker said softly.

“Yes.”

At these words Harry overcame his stunned stupor and launched himself at Pettigrew.  He tackled the man across the chest, and Pettigrew’s chair went crashing to the floor, Harry on top of him and flailing madly with his arms.  He had broken Pettigrew’s nose before Proudfoot could rush forward and pull him off.

Harry elbowed Proudfoot roughly in the gut and stepped away from him.  He quickly drew his wand from its holster and thrust it toward Pettigrew.  A silent slicing curse erupted from his wand.  Only inches from Pettigrew’s face, a shimmering shield appeared and absorbed the strength of the spell, and Harry found his wand flying through the air and into Croaker’s hand.

“Potter, pull yourself together—,” Croaker barked, but Harry ignored him.  The living embodiment of a lifetime’s worth of betrayal was sitting right there in the room.

His face red with rage, Harry launched himself at Pettigrew again.  But Proudfoot blocked his way and quickly wrestled him to the floor, pinning his arms behind his back.

“You fucking bastard—you traitor!  You’re dead!  You’re fucking dead!”  Harry screamed, trying vainly to spit on Pettigrew.

“Potter!  Get a grip on yourself!”  Croaker shouted.  “Calm down or I’ll bloody well stun your arse!  We need to question this man; there will be time for justice later.”

But Harry was beyond reason.  He continued to struggle in Proudfoot’s grasp, glaring hatefully at Pettigrew, whose wide eyes were watching Harry fearfully.

“Get him out of here, Auror,” Bones ordered.  “He can stay in the hallway, but don’t let him in this room again.  We will keep his wand.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Proudfoot replied, his tall frame easily overpowering Harry and lifting him off the ground.  He frog-marched a struggling Harry out the door.

“Sweet Merlin,” Bones whispered, looking between Croaker and the downed Pettigrew.

“Aye,” said Croaker, shaking his head.  “This is a clusterfuck if ever I’ve seen one.  And it’s got Albus’ fingerprints all over it.  Let’s get him up and get something useful out of him before the dose wears off.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twenty minutes later Bones and Croaker emerged from the room to find Harry Potter pacing the outside corridor angrily.  Proudfoot kept his wand drawn and a wary eye on him.

“So can I kill him now?” Harry demanded abruptly, coming to a halt directly in front of them.

Bones sighed, and Croaker crossed his arms and glared at Harry.  “Potter, you’re not going to be killing anyone.  It’s time you faced some home truths, lad, unpleasant though they may be.  Come with me.”

Croaker led him to a room on the main floor and gestured imperiously for Harry to sit down.  Harry ignored him and remained standing, his posture defiant.  When Croaker didn’t speak, he did.

“I understand that you need to question him further.  When you’re done, he’s a dead man.  He killed my family.”

Croaker continued to stare at Harry, as if trying to take the measure of him.

“Well, what the bloody hell did you learn?  Dumbledore is behind all this somehow, isn’t he?”

Croaker sighed in irritation.  “Lad, your fixation on Dumbledore has got to stop.  The man is a right bastard, but the Dark Lord is the one you need to be focusing on.”

“And you didn’t answer my question,” Harry returned.

“What the bloody hell do you expect, Potter?” Croaker roared.  “Of course the old man is involved!  He knew all along that Black wasn’t the Secret Keeper, because he’s the one who cast the damned fidelius.  So, yes, he probably murdered your godfather after he escaped from Azkaban.”

Croaker glared at Harry, waiting for a response, but Harry did nothing but return his glare.  He finally continued.

“Here’s the long and short of it, Potter: your revenge has got to wait.  We’re fighting a bloody war here, in case you haven’t noticed; you’re an important part of it, but you’re going to get yourself killed if you’ve got a hard-on for Dumbledore.”

Harry responded in a low, menacing voice.  “I’m going to kill him, Croaker, the first opportunity I have.”

“Listen to yourself, Potter!” Croaker retorted angrily.  “You’re practically foaming at the mouth.  You didn’t even ask me what we learned about Voldemort, you’re so focused on your grievances with Dumbledore.”

“Well?” Harry asked impatiently.  “Are you going to tell me or do I have to beg for it?”

Croaker sighed crossly and ran his hands through his hair.  “He doesn’t know much.  He knows the rotter’s staying beneath Malfoy Manor, but we could have guessed as much already.  That won’t help us get past the wards.  And apparently he’s kept far from the Dark Lord’s plans.  We’ll keep asking questions, but he’s not much of a Death Eater.”

“So then you won’t mind if he has an accident soon.”

“Potter,” said Croaker exasperatedly, “it’s time for you to grow up.  The world doesn’t revolve around you and your grievances with Dumbledore and the people who betrayed your family.  That man is going to stay locked up until the Dark Lord is dead, just in case we need more information from him.  I’m going to set a ward to keep you out of the dungeons.  Now, do I have to lock you in your room to keep you from going after Dumbledore?”

Harry said nothing, but crossed his arms defiantly.

“Fine,” Croaker spat.  “You want the naked truth, lad?  Here it is.  Dumbledore would wipe the floor with you in a fair fight; you’re not ready, and you may not ever be.  We’ll do our best to keep you safe from him while you train, but he’s not a priority anymore.  Period.  Dumbledore is a stubborn and relentless old fool, but he isn’t a Dark Lord, Potter.  Voldemort is.”

Harry’s anger deflated slowly, to be replaced with resignation and despair.  He closed his eyes and shook his head, wishing to clear his head of the day’s revelations.

“I’m not stupid,” he said finally.  “I’m not going to go charging after Dumbledore.  But he’s going to die, and that’s an end on it.”

Croaker eyed Harry intently, but eventually nodded and left the room.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

October 20, 1995 – Ipswich, England, Turpin Residence

“Lisa, don’t worry about your childhood toys; we’ll be coming back later.  This is just temporary.”

“Sorry, mum,” said a flustered Lisa Turpin, removing a stuffed elephant from her overflowing Hogwarts trunk.  Her parents, both of them muggleborns, had removed her from Hogwarts earlier that afternoon.  The whole family would be relocating to Canada until the current unrest resolved itself.  Despite the supposed peace treaty, it was not lost on them that their family represented exactly what the Dark Lord most despised.

Michael Turpin had found a niche for himself as a retailer of charmed leather goods, most of which came from his family farm.  Though it hadn’t made him rich, his small store in Diagon Alley could certainly be called prosperous.  Considering how much trade he did abroad, it wouldn’t cripple his business to relocate for awhile.

As soon as his wife and daughters packed their most important possessions, he would lock up the house and the whole family would board a muggle jet to New Brunswick, Ontario.  It was practically the middle of the night, but he felt it best to leave as soon as possible.

“Eleanor, luv, let’s get a move on,” Lisa heard her father shout upstairs to her mother.  “The flight is in three hours and it takes forever to go through security.”

“Coming dear,” came the harried response.  “I’m trying to get Elizabeth sorted out.”

Everyone suddenly stopped and listened as a resonant gong rang throughout the house.  This indicated that someone magical was approaching their home, a precaution they took living in a muggle neighborhood.

“Eleanor, are you expecting anyone?” Michael Turpin asked his wife apprehensively, standing at the bottom of the stairs.

“No,” she said softly, staring down at him from the second floor hallway.

Michael looked uneasily at the front door just as it exploded off its hinges with a loud ‘crack,’ sending wooden shrapnel in every direction.  He fell back against the bottom stair in surprise, unharmed but shocked at the sudden explosion.

“Michael!” Eleanor screamed.

“Damnit,” he yelled in return, drawing his wand.  “Gets the girls, Ellie.  Apparate away!  I’m coming.”

He never made it up the stairs.  A killing curse hit him in the back as he turned, sent from three masked Death Eaters who entered through the front door.

“No!  Michael!” screamed Eleanor, staring in disbelief at the crumpled form of her husband.

Lisa Turpin stood in her bedroom, looking out into the hallway in shock.  She had heard the door explode, followed shortly by the incantation of a killing curse.  A scream from her mother woke her from her daze, and Lisa gaped as the elder Turpin bolted through the hallway and into her 8-year-old sister’s room.

“Lisa, come quickly,” she cried, holding out a hand.  “Drop everything now!”

Lisa did so, running into her sister’s room just as her mother scooped up a wailing Elizabeth in her arms.  She obediently grasped her mother’s hand, terrified at the sound of footsteps thundering up the stairs.  Eleanor Turpin closed her eyes in concentration for a moment, then opened them wide.

“I can’t apparate!” she cried desperately.

The next moment a fierce explosion tore through the inner wall of Elizabeth’s bedroom, leaving a gaping hole and clouding the room with dust and drywall.  Eleanor and her girls fell to the floor, coughing and covered in debris.

“Lisa,” she rasped, “take Lizzy and leave through your bedroom window.  Take your training broom.  Go now, and I love you.”

“Mum,” she replied, but her mother suddenly screamed as a cruciatus curse struck her in the chest.  Lisa fell back in horror as two Death Eaters stood in the opening of the ruined wall and laughed as her mother twitched.  Lizzy clung to her and screamed for everything to stop.

“Stupefy!” Lisa screamed, pointing her wand at the man cursing her mother.  The Death Eater was forced to drop his curse and move to the side, but the respite didn’t last long.  From behind the Death Eaters, a tale, pale figure in blood-red robes stepped through the hole in the wall and into the room.

Lisa realized instantly who this must be.  She was struck speechless by the alien appearance of the monster before her.  Lord Voldemort himself was in her house, and she knew beyond a doubt that she was about to die.

“I do so love listening to mudbloods scream,” the Dark Lord smiled, his eyes never leaving Lisa’s.  “Please continue Rabastan.”

As her mother began screaming again, Lisa nearly lost control of her bladder.  Somehow she found the strength to stand on wobbly legs in front of her sister.  She knew there was no way to block a cruciatus curse, and there was no way she would defeat these wizards in a fight.  But she might be able to help Lizzy escape.

“Lizzy,” Lisa said shakily, “go!  Fly away, now!”

She pushed her struggling sister forcefully across the room and out the bedroom door.  The 8-year-old went sprawling into the hallway and screamed her sister’s name, but Lisa’s attention was now elsewhere.

“Stupefy! Stupefy!” she screamed, hoping to at least delay the men invading her home.  Her spells were blocked with ease, and Lisa found her wand floating toward the Dark Lord’s outstretched hand.

“Rabastan, stop the little girl,” Voldemort commanded lazily, and Rabastan Lestrange quickly exited the room to chase down Lizzy Turpin.  

“You are blessed, child,” Voldemort spoke toward Lisa while examining her wand in his long fingers.  “Your filthy blood shall be spilt by my own hand…Crucio!” he smiled, and Lisa Turpin fell screaming to the floor.

Rabastan, meanwhile, entered Lisa’s bedroom at a run and moved quickly to the window, expecting to have to summon a little girl off her broom.  Finding it closed, he turned around and was unprepared for the sudden impact against his chest.

Lizzy Turpin had retrieved the training broom from Lisa’s closet, and, through her tears and terror, she flew it straight at the masked man standing in front of the window.  The tip of the broom hit him right in the sternum and thrust him backwards through the window, sending him flailing 20 feet to the ground below.  He landed on his back with a loud crack as shattered glass rained down on him.

Rabastan Lestrange looked up dazedly as Lizzy Turpin exploded through the window on her broom and lifted off quickly into the night.  He took a few last rasping breaths, then stilled, his neck and back broken beyond repair.

Sobbing with panic and desperation, Lizzy turned her sister’s broom around and flew quickly toward the home of a nearby muggle friend.  She didn’t know where else to go, but she did know that the rest of her family was dead or soon to be so.

Lizzy wasn’t aware of it, but her family was only one of many targets among muggles and muggleborns that night.  The Dark Lord had grown impatient to destroy his “enemies,” and decided to launch random attacks on unlucky muggles and muggleborns throughout England.  The Death Eaters would not be casting the Dark Mark—the illusion of peace had to be maintained, after all—but he was in the mood to celebrate the virtual capitulation of the Ministry.

The ranks of his Death Eaters had recently swelled with the addition of recruits from Eastern Europe.  They were vicious thugs with a taste for slaughter, but they had willingly taken the Mark when promised power and immunity.  Coupled with the addition of young men related to his oldest followers, the Death Eaters had swollen to more than 100.  They would only grow as he consolidated power.

Tonight they held revels throughout muggle England.  The muggles would wake in the morning to find that dozens of them had been raped and murdered in their homes, some tortured to death in horrific ways.  They would discover that unchecked fires had swept through London, Manchester, and Leeds the previous night.  Authorities would claim that terrorists had started chemical fires, as they were unable to explain why the flames seemed resistant to water.  The information would not matter to the more than 3,000 dead.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, a house elf in black silk robes quirked his head in confusion.  He felt a faint echo of his master’s magic in another location, and he knew with certainty that his master was upstairs in his bedroom.  It was very faint, but there was no mistaking it.  It was his master’s magic.  How could his master be in two places at once?

Unsure of what to do, Dobby pulled on one of his ears and decided to wait until the odd sensation passed.  He would bring it up with his master if it happened again.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

October 21st, 1995 – Hogwarts, Room of Requirement

The next afternoon, Parvati waited anxiously in the Come-and-Go Room for Harry’s mirror call.  She had expected Harry to contact her the previous evening, but he hadn’t.  Now she was worried that something bad had happened.

“Harry?” she inquired as her mirror vibrated.  She breathed a sigh of relief as his face appeared.

“Hi, Parvati.”

“Harry, are you alright?  When you didn’t call last night I got worried and…something happened, didn’t it?  You look terrible, Harry.  Is everything…”

“It’s alright, Parvati,” Harry said, interrupting her hurried questions.  “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine, Harry.  What happened?”

“I just…we caught…we caught the Death Eater who betrayed my parents,” he said dejectedly, his eyes not meeting hers.

“You…but I thought Sirius Black betrayed your parents…” Parvati said confusedly.

“No…he was innocent, and he…” Harry shook his head, trying to gain control of his emotions.  “It was Pettigrew who…oh Merlin…”

Parvati was shocked when Harry began to choke on his words, his ‘Merlin’ ending in a strangled whimper.  It was more emotion than she’d ever seen him display.

She found herself at even more of a loss when he began sobbing in earnest.

“It’s alright, Harry; just let it out,” she said softly, hoping that her words would soothe him somehow.  “Just let it out.”

Harry continued his strangled sobbing, unable to prevent himself from stopping.  He held the mirror at his chest while he cried, not wanting Parvati to see him like this.

She waited patiently for another minute, occasionally speaking softly to him, while he let out years worth of pent up frustration.  Finally he snuffled and wiped his face with his forearm.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.  “I can’t believe I did that.”

“It’s okay, Harry,” Parvati smiled gently.  “You clearly needed it.  And it’s sexy when boys cry,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.

Harry rolled his red eyes at her.  “Even I know that’s a load of bollocks, Parvati.”

She stuck out her tongue at him.  “Well, would you rather me say that leaking like a hosepipe was unmanly?”

Harry shrugged and snuffled some more.  “If I do that again, yeah.”

“So what happened?” she asked with concern.

Harry sighed deeply.  “Like I said, we caught the man who betrayed my parents to Voldemort.  Peter Pettigrew.  He faked his own death and set up Sirius Black to take the blame.  He was the real Death Eater all along.”

Parvati shook her head at the absurdity of it all.  “Merlin,” she whispered.  “And Sirius Black got kissed.”

Harry nodded disconsolately.  “And Dumbledore knew he was innocent.  He was the one who cast the Fidelius Charm on my parents’ house.  He knew Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper.”

“Bloody hell,” Parvati exclaimed.  “I can’t…is there anything that man won’t do?!  He and Snape are the ones who caught Black and had him kissed!”

“I know.  And he made me think he had saved my life.  Meanwhile he had just murdered my godfather.  I’m convinced that he was behind my parents’ deaths too.  I know Voldemort did it, but Dumbledore has got to be involved somehow.  Pettigrew said Dumbledore wasn’t aware he was a spy, but I’m still not convinced.”

“I’m so sorry, Harry,” Parvati said sadly.  “I just wish…I wish there was something I could do to truly help you.  I feel so helpless.”

“You are helping me, Parvati,” Harry sighed, giving her a small smile.  “I’m glad you’re not involved in this mess, really.  I can talk to you and it’s…well, normal, I guess.  You’re my relief.”

“Look at you,” Parvati smiled brightly, “smiling shyly and trying to reassure me.  There’s hope for you yet, Harry.  I’ll do my best to relieve you whenever you need it.”

Harry blushed a little at the innuendo in her words, but did not comment on it.

They talked about inconsequential things for the next half-hour, Parvati attempting to pull him from his dejected mood.

Eventually she realized that the hour was getting late.  “Er, Harry, remember I told Hermione that you would talk to her today?”

Harry groaned.  “Bloody hell.  I was hoping to avoid that.  I guess we may as well get it over with.  Let me call Dobby, and he can pop over there and summon her to the room.  If you don’t mind, would you stay while we talk?”

“Sure,” Parvati smiled, gladdened that Harry wanted her to be part of a private conversation with his former best friend.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ten minutes later Hermione was seated hesitantly in the Come-and-Go Room as Parvati held a whispered exchange with Harry on the mirror.

Parvati rose from her seat and brusquely handed the mirror to her.  “Here you go.  Harry wants me to stay in the room.”

Hermione nodded and looked at the mirror, where the image of Harry was examining her closely.

“Hi, Harry,” she said softly.

“Hermione.  You look terrible.”

Hermione gave a little snort.  “Thank you.  So do you.”  The effects of Harry’s earlier breakdown were still on his face.

A strained silence followed for several seconds.

“You had something to say?” Harry asked curtly.

Hermione grimaced at his tone.  “I’m sorry, Harry,” she nearly whispered.  “And I can’t even say for what.  But I was wrong.  About everything.  And I never wanted you to get hurt.  I tried to get the Headmaster to find a different away again and again, but he ignored me.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, Hermione.  You were involved in the same conspiracy that Ron, Dumbledore, Snape, Moody, the Weasleys, and Merlin knows who else was in on.  You were helping them to kill me.”

Hermione began sniffling at the bitterness in his words.  “I didn’t want that to happen, Harry.  I’m so sorry.  I thought…I was 12 when I made that oath to Professor Dumbledore.  I thought he was good, and that—you know—was unavoidable.  But he manipulated me, Harry.  I see that now.  It’s still my fault, but please, Harry, I’ve got to make it right.  You’re the only real friend I’ve ever had.  Please,” she finished with a whimper.

Harry shook his head exhaustedly at Hermione’s begging.  After his emotional purge with Parvati, he lacked the energy to be angry with her.

“How is it that you expect to ‘make it right,’ Hermione?  You were my best friend, and I had to run for my life so that you wouldn’t hand me over to Voldemort.  You stood by me through everything for four years, but it was nothing but preparing a sheep for slaughter.”

“No, no,” Hermione sobbed.  “I never stopped being your friend.  I didn’t understand what I was agreeing to hide.  I…when I did understand, I tried to find an alternative, but the Headmaster insisted that…”

“Fuck the Headmaster,” Harry interrupted heatedly.  “For all your brains, Hermione, you’re a bloody idiot.  Why would you believe something so horrible just because he said it was so?”

“I…I trusted him, Harry.  I didn’t think that he would…I was 12!” she cried desperately.  “This is tearing me apart.  Please let me make it up to you.  I’ll do anything; I’ll swear any oath, but, please, I have to make this right.  I just want things to go back to the way they were.”

Harry swallowed heavily and glared at Hermione.  Her betrayal of him hurt far worse than the others.  “There’s no going back.  You made your bed, and now you’ll have to sleep in it.  I don’t see how you could possibly help me, but I will take you up on your offer of an oath.  I can’t have you running around on a crusade and getting Parvati in trouble because you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

Hermione nodded bleakly at Harry, her tears spent.  “I’ll find a way to help, Harry, whether you want it or not.  My parents are going to Australia for a long holiday, but I’m staying here.  I made a bad mistake, and I’m going to fix it,” she said determinedly.

Harry looked longingly at her; for a moment it felt as if the old Hermione were back, scolding him for not doing his homework.  It hurt him to be so harsh with her, but there was no overcoming the betrayal he felt.

“Fine,” he said resignedly.  “Just don’t go to the Professors or do something stupid.  Now, about that oath…”

Hermione withdrew her wand from her robes and held it aloft.  “I, Hermione Jane Granger, swear on my life and my magic that I will never knowingly betray Harry Potter again, that I will work to help his cause, and that I will keep his secrets.  So mote it be.”

Hermione’s wand flashed brightly, and Harry again shook his head at the audacity and obstinacy of the young witch.  Her oath was far more binding than he had expected; when she dedicated herself to something, she was like a mad bulldog.

“Alright, Hermione.  If there’s something you can do for me, Parvati will let you know.  You can stop pestering her now.”

“I’ll make it up to you, Harry.  If it’s the last thing I do.”

Despite his disappointment in her, Harry believed her.  “Are you still talking to the Weasleys?”

“Not really,” said Hermione sadly.  “They just returned from the funeral yesterday, and I think Mrs. Weasley came to Hogwarts too.  Ron is the only one who knows about the oaths, so he’s the only I can talk to openly.  It hurts to not be able to answer Ginny’s questions about what’s going on.”

“So she and the twins were never in on it?  You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.  Ginny didn’t know about the love potions they were giving you.  I didn’t know for certain until I confronted Ron about it.”

Harry nodded contemplatively.  “So it was just Ron and Mrs. Weasley, and maybe Mr. Weasley.  I wonder how Dumbledore talked them into it.  I sent them a letter after I heard about Mr. Weasley, but I didn’t get a response.  Let me know if the twins approach you.  They’ve always been good to me.”

Hermione agreed quickly.  “I know that things are strained between them and Ron, but I don’t know how bad.  They would help you too, Harry.”

Harry thought for a few more seconds.  “I’ll think of a way to get in touch with them.  Just…don’t do anything for now, okay Hermione?  I haven’t forgiven you by any stretch, but you might be able to help me eventually.”

Hermione nodded miserably.  “Okay, Harry.”

“Let me say goodbye to Parvati, and then you two can get out of there.  Be careful around Dumbledore, and don’t start hanging around Parvati.  It will make people suspicious, and Parvati doesn’t like you.”

Hermione winced at his parting words, but obediently handed the mirror back to Parvati, who had been listening to the whole conversation in silence.

She and Harry said their goodbyes, and the two Gryffindors rose to return to the Common Room.

“After you,” Parvati said coldly, gesturing toward the door.  She followed Hermione out into the hallway, hoping to avoid small talk on the way back to Gryffindor Tower.

She nearly ran into Hermione’s back when the girl abruptly stopped.  Parvati looked beyond her, and got an eerie sense of déjà vu.

Standing in the hallway, watching them intently, was Albus Dumbledore.

“Ms. Granger, Ms. Patil,” he smiled, “please accompany me to my office.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

October 21st, 1995 – Bones Manor

Later that evening, Harry stood stock still as Tonks put her hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye.  It was time for their operation to remove gold and valuables from Gringotts, and Harry would be taking part in it.  Bones and her allies knew they might need gold to finance a lengthy war, and it was necessary to secure their assets before the Ministry could attempt to seize them.

Tonks had procured a spare wand for him—thestral hair and ebony—and it worked well enough to serve as a backup.  It was currently strapped to the side of his right shin in a leather holster, ready to be drawn in a hurry.

“Right, Harry.  You know the drill.  Once you’re inside, stay with your group and get in and out as fast as possible.  The goblins have agreed to allow the withdrawals, but there’s no guarantee that the Ministry won’t have set a trap for us.  Just…no spells in Gringotts unless your life is in danger.  Got it?”

“Got it,” Harry nodded, excited to be a part of the mission.  The day’s emotional rollercoaster had left him ready to expend some energy.  Croaker was now reluctant to let him leave Bones Manor, but the old Unspeakable knew that Harry needed experience above all else.  This might be a chance to get his feet wet.

Their group would consist of 12 wizards, including Harry, Proudfoot, Mockridge, Savage, three other Aurors, and several elderly wizards whom Harry had never met.  Meanwhile Tonks and three others would remain outside Gringotts in disguise, keeping an eye on the building and ready to ambush any response team from the Ministry.  Madam Bones had already secured her gold and would remain behind.

She had nullified Dumbledore’s guardianship of Harry before she was removed from her position, and was confident that the goblins would still recognize her authority.  Mockridge had triple-checked their willingness to let Harry empty his vault.

Mockridge had used his influence among the goblin nation to procure the contents of each vault in advance.  It was, in theory, all ready and waiting to be moved, provided that the actual owner showed up and gave permission.  No one would have to risk a long and dangerous cart ride to get to the vaults.

At a signal from Proudfoot, Tonks and the recon team apparated away, leaving the others to gather in small circles.  They weren’t bothering with polyjuice or glamours, but each team member was wearing a cloak with the hood raised.  They would enter the lobby in groups of four to attract less attention.

Harry’s group consisted of Proudfoot, Mockridge, and an elderly wizard by the name of Carlisle.  Carlisle wouldn’t be much good in a fight, but he was very wealthy and dedicated to fighting the Dark Lord.  His gold might prove invaluable.  Gathering around his group, Harry waited patiently while Proudfoot looked at his watch and then gave him a hard stare.

“Now,” he said, and everyone grabbed onto the long shoelace he was holding.

Harry and his group appeared with a loud whoosh in the courtyard in front of Gringotts.  He looked around quickly but nothing seemed to be amiss.  At this late hour there wasn’t much activity in Diagon Alley, and only two goblin guards manned the entrance to the bank.

“Inside, quickly,” Proudfoot whispered, and the group entered the bank.  The two other groups appeared behind them and hurried to follow.  Once inside, Harry moved quickly to the closest goblin teller and explained what he wanted.

He and Proudfoot were ushered efficiently to a back room, where a goblin Harry recognized as Drecksack was waiting on him.  He smiled toothily at Harry, and Harry was unnerved at the glint in his eye.  He had bribed this goblin the last time he had seen him, and it was always possible that someone else had deeper pockets.

“Mr. Potter, a pleasure to see you again.  If you would kindly provide me with a drop of blood, we can complete your transaction.”

Harry provided the requisite blood, and waited impatiently as Drecksack stared at a seemingly blank parchment.  After a moment the goblin nodded.

“Everything seems to be in order, Mr. Potter.  Unfortunately there will be a slight delay in retrieving the contents of your vaults.  The sudden rush of business is overextending our usually brisk service, you understand.”

Harry grimaced and glanced at Proudfoot, who narrowed his eyes at the goblin.  This was either a trap of some sort or he was being shaken down again.

“Fine,” Harry spat.  “1,000 galleons for your service to return to its usual briskness.”

Drecksack smiled again.  “Surely I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Potter, but I have just received word that your vault is ready after all.”

Just as he finished speaking, an inner door opened and two goblins entered carrying two massive trunks.  They set them down heavily on the floor and left hurriedly.

“If I may?” Proudfoot inquired, his wand leveled at the trunks.

“By all means,” Drecksack gestured magnanimously, and Proudfoot quickly lightened and shrank the trunks.  Harry secured them in an inner pocket of his robes.

“Thank you for your, er, hospitality, Drecksack,” Harry bowed, and he and Proudfoot stepped warily from the room.

So far everything had gone according to plan.  The other groups were slowly gathering in the lobby, and everyone looked satisfied with their arrangements.  It appeared that Mockridge’s influence had worked.

Proudfoot suddenly stiffened.  He looked apprehensively at a gauntlet on his right wrist, then sighed.

He gathered all 12 of the team members in a small circle and explained the new situation.

“Listen up.  Ministry Aurors have shown up outside.  Tonks says she can see only five, but there may be more disillusioned or hiding.  They’ve laid down some quick and dirty anti-app. and anti-portkey wards, so we’re going to have tear them down.  Smythe, McMurphy, you two bring them down, and the rest of us will gather in a semi-circle around you to give you cover.  We’ll exit the building in our groups, then gather on the front steps.  Tonks and the others will help us take out the Ministry if they want a fight.  Don’t use anything lethal unless they do.”

Proudfoot looked at Harry.  “Keep your wits about you, Potter.  I need to go out with the first group.  You should be fine with Mockridge and Carlisle; just don’t hit us in the back with anything, and come out quickly once you’ve seen us make it out safely.”

Harry nodded and tensed, drawing his wand.

Standing in the lobby, he watched anxiously as Proudfoot led the first group outside the bank doors.  Seconds later he heard a loud conversation taking place, and the second group approached the bank doors.  Harry thought it was a good sign that spellfire had not erupted immediately.  Apparently the Ministry Aurors were somewhat reluctant to start slinging spells at their erstwhile colleagues.

Harry, Mockridge, and Carlisle approached the doors cautiously, but were forced to take a step back when the lights of numerous spells suddenly lit up the outer steps and the courtyard.

A spell flew directly over Mockridge’s head, forcing him to drop to the floor.  It flew through the bank lobby, impacting with a small explosion against an ornate back wall.  An alarm sounded within the bank and goblins began shouting to each other in Gobbledygook.  Several other terrified patrons ducked behind furniture to escape the bedlam.

Harry, ducking down beside Mockridge, wanted to return fire against the Ministry Aurors, but his view of the battle was blocked by Proudfoot and the others on the outer steps.  For the moment, they stayed still and watched.  They did not immediately hear the goblin warriors running toward them from behind.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Outside the bank, Tonks watched intently from her perch on the roof of Turpin’s Charmed Leather Goods as the first group exited the bank.  A few minutes ago five Ministry Aurors had appeared on the scene, and she assumed that others were present and disillusioned.  She had felt the anti-apparition wards go up, and could only assume that anti-portkey wards were present too.  They were going to have to fight to leave the bank.

Tonks signaled her fellow hidden Aurors, and the four of them prepared to take out the visible opponents from behind.  They would then be able to engage any invisible attackers while the bank teams brought down the wards.

She watched in anticipation as two uniformed Aurors, one she recognized as Dawlish, stepped forward to talk to Proudfoot.  Proudfoot gestured angrily at him, and Tonks took that as her signal.

In a heartbeat, the courtyard outside Gringotts was lit up as Tonks and her hidden team fired stunners at the visible Ministry Aurors.  Most went down instantly, though Dawlish rolled to his right and brought his wand to bear on Proudfoot.  He immediately fired a blasting curse, which Proudfoot ducked as it flew by him and into the bank.  He raised a shield just as a variety of offensive curses tore toward their position.

Six of the newest “Auror recruits,” most of them Death Eaters or sympathizers, had risen from concealed positions and opened fire on the group outside of Gringotts.  Each of them was disillusioned.

Tonks and her team returned fire against the disillusioned opponents as Proudfoot shouted at his group to cast shields and form a circle.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry saw the fighting begin outside and grabbed Mockridge’s elbow to lead him forward.  Carlisle had his wand out and was kneeling next to them.  Proudfoot was shouting at them to get out of the bank before it was locked down.

They made it only a few steps before a sudden yelp stopped Harry in his tracks.  He turned to see Carlisle staring down at a spear point protruding from his right side, blood dripping steadily to the floor.

Harry instinctively turned around and threw up a solid shield, which deflected the blow of a massive trident.  Six burly goblin warriors were bearing down on their position from behind, murder in their eyes.  They carried medieval weapons designed to inflict horrific wounds even at a distance.  It apparently didn’t matter to them that Harry and his friends had not started this fight.

“Back off!” Harry yelled furiously.  “We’re just trying to leave!”

He was answered by a bolt from a crossbow ricocheting sharply off his shield.

Harry took a step in front of the downed and moaning Carlisle and leveled his wand at the angry goblins.  He knew it was a terrible idea to fight goblins within Gringotts, but he appeared to have no other choice.

“Stupefy!” he heard Mockridge mutter, and Harry followed his lead with two silent stunners at the closest goblins.  The spells washed harmlessly over the armor they were wearing.  Mockridge was pushed back suddenly as four crossbow bolts impacted his shield at once.

“We’ve got to take them out!” Mockridge yelled.

Harry agreed wholeheartedly.  He fired two silent blasters at the closest goblins and drilled another in the throat with a piercing curse.  The first two dropped to the floor in agony as their bodies were nearly cleaved in two by the powerful spells.  The third flailed wildly on the ground, unable to stop the flow of blood from his ruined throat.

Harry ducked wildly as a spear flew by his head and continued straight through the open doors.  Mockridge blasted an approaching goblin in the knees, nearly severing his legs from his body, and both he and Harry deflected mace blows from the remaining two goblins.  They were close enough that he could smell their rancid breath, and he wasted no time in delivering a piercing curse to the brain of the closest goblin.  Mockridge did his part and blasted the final goblin halfway across the lobby.

Harry winced at the carnage, but there was no avoiding it.  He paused to catch his breath and survey the scene.  A few goblin tellers glared viciously at them, but there were no more warriors to be seen.  From the sounds of things, that would soon change.  A steady thunder of footsteps came from the interior of the bank, and Harry suspected they were about to be overwhelmed by dozens of enraged goblins.

They needed to leave the bank immediately.

Harry quickly severed the long spear that was protruding from Carlisle’s abdomen and lifted the old man off the ground.  Mockridge grabbed his other side and waved Harry off.

“I’ve got him, lad,” he grunted, shouldering the entirety of Carlisle’s weight.  The elderly man appeared to be conscious but in shock.  “Get us out the door.”

Harry led the trio out the door, maintaining a shield warily before them.  They had no sooner exited than the doors to the bank slammed shut with a deafening thud.

The scene they encountered outside was pure chaos.  Proudfoot, Savage, and the others had formed a semi-circle in front of two Aurors, who were kneeling and trying to bring down the anti-portkey wards.  Everyone appeared to be on the defensive, casting shields to deflect or disperse the spells being cast at them.

The most vicious fighting was between Tonks’ team and the disillusioned Aurors who had lain in wait.  Several Ministry Aurors appeared to be down, but there was a steady stream of violent curses flying back and forth across the courtyard.

Savage suddenly yelped as a bludgeoning curse collapsed his shield and sent him flailing backwards over his kneeling colleagues, interrupting their efforts to bring down the anti-portkey wards.  Harry looked up to see eight new Ministry Aurors approaching the scene from the front, spells already flying from their wands.

Leaving Mockridge and Carlisle to fend for themselves, Harry stepped forward to occupy the space where Savage had been.  He cast his shield to add to the protection, knowing the fight would be over as soon as they could bring down the wards.

“Goddamnit, what the hell is taking so long, Smythe?” yelled Proudfoot next to him.

“Almost there,” muttered a voice behind him.  “Just a little longer.”

“Avada Kedavra!”

Harry had sensed movement directly in front of them, and he pushed Proudfoot forcefully out of the way as a killing curse flew through the space he had just occupied.  He fell awkwardly against the man next to him.  The ranks now broken, Harry stepped forward and cast a powerful blasting curse at their invisible opponent.  A bright shield appeared and resounded with a gong, and Harry drilled it with a piercing curse.  The curse penetrated the shield with ease, and a startled scream erupted from a now visible wizard.

Kneeling on the ground and holding his bleeding chest, the man began to incant another killing curse before he was torn apart by a blaster from Harry’s wand.  Harry blinked at the catastrophic damage he had done to the man, but he had no time to dwell on it.

Proudfoot stepped up next to him and the two of them unloaded a relentless barrage of blasting and slicing curses at the approaching Aurors, scattering them everywhere.  Tonks’ team opened up on them as well, giving Harry and his group some much-needed relief.

He and Proudfoot regrouped on the steps of the bank, where several of their team members looked to be wounded.  They reformed the semi-circle as best they could, shielding their comrades while the resistance against them slowly crumbled.

At long last, a ripping sound tore the air and one of the kneeling Aurors stood quickly and reached in his robes.

“It’s down! Go now!”

In a nearly synchronized motion, everyone with Harry’s party grabbed the wounded wizards and activated their return portkeys.  As one they disappeared from the scene, grateful that the wards had finally come down.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Harry reappeared with the rest of his party inside Bones Manor.  Immediately the shouting began.  Carlisle still had the end of a goblin spear protruding from his gut, and was breathing erratically.  Savage looked to be concussed, and was looking confusedly at the floor.  Another Auror moaned in agony, his right side torn apart by a blasting curse from a disillusioned opponent.  Three healers immediately began working on the group.

Madam Bones surveyed the scene intently, apparently satisfied that they had not returned with any corpses.

Harry himself had escaped completely unscathed, as had the vast majority of the group.  His adrenalin still pumping, he breathed deep breaths as he watched the fevered activity around him.  Tonks approached him with a small smile, and she too looked unharmed save for a few scorch marks on her robes.

“Wotcher, Harry.  You did good out there.  I saw you take down Yaxley and then help with the others.  Well done.”

“Thanks,” said Harry shakily, running a shaking hand through his hair.  “That was…that was pure chaos.  I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Big fights are always like that,” Tonks shrugged.  “Just be thankful you’re still in one piece.  You’ve got to get a little lucky when there’s so many people attacking….what happened to that bloke?” she asked, pointing at the wheezing form of Carlisle.

“Bloody goblins,” Harry swore.  “They attacked us from behind when the fighting started.  They were the ones who tipped off the Ministry, weren’t they?”

“Probably.  But we expected them to do something like that.  The greedy buggers usually play both sides whenever there’s a wizarding conflict.  I think we may have burned some bridges tonight, though.”

“Yeah,” said Harry distractedly.  “I had to kill some of them.  I didn’t want to…but…you said the name of that Auror was Yaxley?”  Oddly, he felt guiltier about killing this anonymous man than he had Snape.

“That’s right, Harry,” said Tonks, placing her hand on his shoulder.  “And he was no Auror.  He was a Death Eater.  You did the right thing.  He tried to kill you, and you gave him the old Potter Special to the chest.  He should have known better than to tangle with one of your piercing curses.  Tosser had it coming.”

Harry couldn’t help a small grin at her attempt to cheer him.

“C’mon, help me secure all the loot, and we’ll get out of the way of the healers.  It may have looked like chaos, Harry, but we handed their asses to them tonight.  That was a win.”

Harry nodded and followed Tonks, his mind still digesting the pandemonium and carnage it had witnessed.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

An hour later, after he had showered and eaten, Harry relaxed in ‘his’ armchair in the Bones library.  He had learned that their wounded would live, though the Auror who had been hit in the side would have a fairly long recovery.  It had been a hectic, but, on the whole, victorious operation.  Harry was elated, but wasn’t sure he wanted to experience such a massive fight again anytime soon.

He pulled his communication mirror from his robes, ready to talk to Parvati about his experiences of the night.  He was growing fond of telling her stories; she couldn’t relate first-hand to much of it, but she made for a good audience.

“Parvati Patil,” he spoke to the mirror.

The mirror swirled, and Harry stared in horror at the image that appeared.  It was not the beautiful bronze skin and dark hair of Parvati Patil, but the gray hair and wrinkled visage of Albus Dumbledore.

“Hello, Harry,” Dumbledore smiled.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I know, I know; I’m a real bastard with the cliffhangers, but I’ve got to end the chapter somewhere :)  Next time around, Harry confronts Dumbledore, the Ministry responds viciously to the Gringotts incident, and Voldemort grows increasingly bolder in his attacks.

Thanks to Voice of the Nephilim, BennyS, scaryisntit, Vikingfn0926, Nukular Winter, and Perspicacity for their feedback on the chapter outline.

Thanks for reading!