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Chapter Text

August 4, 1995

Little Whinging, Surrey, England

Harry got onto the muggle bus. It was heading towards the train station and London.

It was a short fifteen-minute ride, then he had to wait. As he waited, he took out the small book on German he had picked up at the beginning of summer. In primary he had taken three years of German, only because it got him away from Dudley, who had taken French. Harry had found he enjoyed speaking a language his relatives didn't understand and wanted to go to Germany one day, figuring it would be far enough away his relatives would never bother him again.

In the last four years at Hogwarts, he had found that his skills had fallen off, so he had snuck out to a small bookstore in town shortly after getting back for the summer and had gotten a few books. The primer in his hands was one of the more useful ones, especially given that its smaller size easily fit into a pocket.

Looking up as a train arrived on the platform, he people watched while he waited. It was still the morning rush, so many commuters got on the train, but only a few got off. He was trying to see who got off, then he gave a small smile to see a familiar head of bushy hair.

"Hermione!" he called out as the crowd thinned.

Once she caught sight of him, she smiled and waved. He moved to her as she rushed to his side. "Oh, Harry! How are you?" she asked as she wrapped her arms around him.

"Doing better," he told her. Having been able to send muggle post back and forth, and sneak a few phone calls, had helped him cope. He wrapped his arms around her after a moment.

"I've been so worried about you," she told him.

"I'm alright," he whispered as he rested his cheek against her head. Someone cleared their throat. He looked up to see a woman that looked like a much older Hermione. He went to remove himself, but Hermione didn't let go. He extended a hand. "Good morning, misses Granger."

The woman gave him a small smile and took his hand. Harry had properly introduced himself to her parents at the end of the year before they had left King’s Cross. "Good morning, Harry. Hermione, are you going to hug him all day?"

Hermione pulled back. He found it cute that her cheeks were slightly flush. "I just haven't seen him in a bit, and you know what happened at the end of the year."

"I know what you told me," her mother said cryptically. "Are you ready for the meeting?"

"I am. I have everything in my pocket." Harry tapped the jacket he was wearing. Inside his pocket was a small pouch with an expansion charm that Sirius had been able to send him.

The woman nodded. When the next train arrived, they got back on, and he listened happily to Hermione as she talked about their trip to Greece. Someday soon he would travel. He was hoping it would be very soon. Harry wanted away from the insane witches and wizards of Britain. He also didn't want to give the Dark Wanker another chance at killing him. This last time in June, and the fallout afterwards, was enough for him to want to leave.

When they got out in London at King’s Cross Station, they went towards the underground instead of the outside. If they had gone outside, it would have been a short fifteen-minute walk to the Leaky Cauldron. After a short ride, they got out at Bakers Street Station and followed the directions that Mrs Granger had written on a paper to a muggle building in an upper-class neighbourhood. The white cross on a red shield on the building was the only indication that they were stepping into another country’s sovereign territory on British soil.

They had chosen this country because it was not particularly friendly to Britain, its laws encouraged magicals and mundanes to coexist and the Ministry of Magic reported directly to the muggle government, which was why the ambassadors for both the muggle and magical world were in the same building.

Inside the lobby of the five-story building, Harry saw two guards and a receptionist behind a large, polished counter. "Hello. May I help you?" the dark hair woman asked in an accented voice.

"Yes. I am Doctor Emmaline Granger. I have an appointment with Mister Wyker at ten," Mrs Granger said.

The woman looked down at an appointment book. "Doctor Granger. Yes, I see you here. Who do you have with you today?"

"My daughter, Hermione Granger, and her friend, Harry Potter," she said.

The woman behind the desk nodded and went to write their names down. Harry noticed one of the guards give him another look. He didn't miss the man's eyes going towards his forehead. Harry held in his sigh. Even outside of Britain he was famous.

"Please take these badges. You need to put them on so everyone can see you are visitors. If you want to go sit over there, I'll let Mister Wyker know you are here. It should only be a few minutes," the woman told them congenially.

"Thank you," Mrs Granger said.

The couches weren't exactly comfortable, but Harry didn't want to be comfortable. He was starting to get nervous about what they were doing. He had wanted to do this on his own but had been told he needed a guardian to see the Ambassador or his staff. Hermione had managed to convince her mother to help.

His leg was bouncing as they waited. Hermione put her hand on his leg. The pleasant jolt that went up it had him stop. "It will be alright, Harry. Everything will work out," she tried to soothe him.

Harry gave an uncertain smile. "What if they don't help?"

"They will," she said back softly.

Her mother watched them, certain more than ever of her daughter's feelings for the boy. Not that there was much doubt after four years of her writing home about Harry Potter, and less frequently their other friend, that Weasley boy.

After waiting ten minutes, a tall, older man with blond hair and light blue eyes came out. He was followed by two guards. They all stood up as the man approached them. "Doctor Granger?"

"Yes," she said, holding her hand out to take the one the man was holding out for her.

"A pleasure to meet you, doctor. I'm Ambassador Wilhelm Wyker. I'm told you are accompanied by some others today?" the man said, looking towards him and Hermione.

"I am, Ambassador Wyker. This is my daughter, Hermione, and her friend, Harry Potter."

The man's eyes darted towards his forehead quickly, then he was acting like there was nothing out of the ordinary. "If you would, we can head towards my office."

They were led into a room just off the lobby. When it closed, Harry felt even more nervous when they were enclosed in a room with a single mirrored window and doors on either side. "I am sorry about this, but we do not allow wands, other weapons or magical artefacts into the embassy. If you would, please put everything on the table. I assure you that you will get everything back in the way it was received."

Hermione and him looked a little nervous. "What about the Statute of Secrecy?" Hermione questioned, looking at the guards.

"Everyone that works for my office is either a squib or a full wizard, Miss Granger. We know who you are, Mister Potter. I must admit I am surprised. I had thought this might just be a meeting about a muggle-born looking for information on Switzerland and potentially going to school there. We get a few every year," Ambassador Wyker said.

"I don't like being without my wand," Harry expressed.

"I understand, but we do have security protocols. I will give you my oath, if you need," the man offered.

Harry shook his head. "No. I don't like oaths," Harry said, having learned about them in the last year and what they had cost him in his life.

It was ten minutes later that they sat in a fancifully decorated office with tea, coffee and small snacks. The pile of parchments, papers, his passport and a pouch of galleons were on the table before him. "Now that we are settled, what is this meeting about?"

"I'm sorry for the deception, ambassador, but Harry said he couldn't get an appointment without a parent or guardian present," Mrs Granger said.

"And I take it you are his guardian?"

"No," Harry said. The man looked towards him. "I was emancipated in the magical world because of my forced participation in the Triwizard Tournament last year. The receptionist didn't believe me when I tried to make an appointment a few weeks ago. Misses Granger, I'm sorry, Doctor Granger, helped me to make one."

The man nodded his head. "I assume you have proof of this in that pile of paper?"

"Yes sir," Harry said, pushing it all towards him. "Hermione found that I can ask for asylum. I would like to get out of Britain and take all my wealth with me. I also have another matter I want to talk about, but need a promise that you won't do anything if you choose not to help."

The man's brow rose. "I can certainly talk to you about your request for asylum, but I can't make any promises, magical or otherwise. Do you formally seek asylum in Switzerland?"

Harry frowned and looked to Hermione. "If you can get asylum, then you can see about the other issues later."

Reluctantly nodding, Harry turned back to Ambassador Wyker. "I formally seek asylum in Switzerland."

The man nodded. "And you, Doctor Granger, do you and your daughter ask for the same?"

"We do not. If Harry is granted asylum, Hermione has already applied and been accepted to Grenobles. My husband and I have not made the decision if we will be moving to Switzerland or not," she said.

"I always thought the schools in Switzerland superior to the three largest schools in Europe," the ambassador said. "Grenobles is my alma mater. My wife and I sent our three there. I will have a granddaughter starting this fall. Before I approve anything, you do know what it means to ask for asylum?"

Harry nodded. "It means I am asking you to protect me from the British Ministry. I understand that I will be a ward of the muggle state until I turn seventeen. I tried to apply to Grenobles, but was rejected because the goblins wouldn't verify I am emancipated because my regent forbid them any communications outside the country."

The man nodded. "How is it you have a regent but are emancipated? I thought it was British law that any emancipated minor could become head of their house?"

Harry tried not to show his annoyance, but it didn't work. He gave a small huff. "Before I found out I was emancipated, the Chief Warlock petitioned the Wizengamot to have my estate put into a receivership until I was twenty-one and then the Chief Warlock became my regent. The goblins say I can't take up my Head of House, even though their treaties say I should be able too."

The man looked at him for a few. "What do you want by asking for asylum?"

"I want out. I don't want to be where most of my classmates and professors think I'm a cheater, liar and glory hound. I want to find out what my parents’ will says. I want all my funds and stuff out of the country so I can't have any more stolen from me. Most of all, I don't want to be manipulated, hunted or almost killed every year in school," Harry resolutely said.

The man sat back in his chair. "I feel there is more to your story than what the papers and books say. Don't look so upset, Mister Potter. I heard about you wanting to make an appointment and did some research if you managed to do so. Are there details of your financial holdings and the Wizengamot rulings in this pile?"

The ambassador sat up and started to look through the pile.

"We couldn't get the Wizengamot ruling, but we do have the copies of the paperwork given to the goblins, all of Harry's account statements, the items believed missing, his emancipation papers, the application for asylum, an application for Grenobles, an application to open an account with the gnomes and all his muggle paperwork we could find," Hermione said.

The man gave her an interested look. "We, Miss Granger?"

Hermione's cheeks flushed a little again. "Harry asked for help after he got a notice from Gringotts last November. We think he wasn't supposed to get it, but the owl found him while we were in Hogsmeade before the first task. I helped him get everything I could after researching what was needed."

Harry grinned. "Hermione is the smartest witch of her age."

"I can see. You must be proud, Doctor Granger," the man complimented.

"More than you know," Mrs Granger replied.

The man gave her a toothy smile. "Having a few children and grandchildren of my own, I can guess. If you can just give me a few minutes?"

Harry's leg started to bounce again as they waited for the man to go through the pile. Hermione put her hand on his leg again to stop him. Again, a pleasant thrill shot through him. His hand moved to be over hers. She took the tips of his fingers into hers as his palm lay over the top of her hand.

After a few minutes, the man looked back up at them. "This all looks to be in order. You are prepared for your government to be upset about this? And your regent may press to have to extradited back?"

Harry snorted. "They are pretty upset with me right now and Hermione said you don't have any extradite treaties on the magical side."

The man inclined his head with a small smile. "Miss Granger would be correct. As for your ministry, I have seen your Daily Prophet and have heard from Minister Fudge. It sounded like you made a mess of the end of the tournament and there are rumours you were involved in the deaths of those six purebloods in Little Hangleton, though I don't understand how if you were supposed to be at Hogwarts," the man said.

Harry frowned. "Do I have asylum?"

The man regarded Harry for a few, before he nodded. "It is not our policy at the Swiss Ministry to reject those that need our help. Would you tell me what really happened before we go any further?"

He shared another look with Hermione. Her mother was looking encouragingly at them. After giving a sigh, Harry started, "The Triwizard cup was a portkey. It was supposed to take whoever grabbed it first to the stage. Instead, I wound up in a graveyard. If you have a pensive, I can show you…"

-oOo-

Later that day…

London, England

Sirius sat at the table of the dingy kitchen. A clear, smoking liquid swirled in the glass as he lazily spun the tumbler at the tips of his fingers. The people around him were talking about mundane stuff like what their jobs were like, how their children were doing, or what was going on at the Ministry or around the wizarding world.

There was a dissatisfied look on his face as he listened in.

That was all he could do, was listen to what other people did to live. Since that night Pettigrew had betrayed them all, he hadn't lived. He had been a prisoner for nearly twelve years, on the run for the last two and a half and with no prospect of ever really living again. The worst of it was that he had a godson that seemed to be just as constrained as he was, and he couldn't do anything about it.

Taking the tumbler to his lips, he sipped at the harsh liquid in the glass. This was a good vintage of fire whiskey. His father always had a good taste for good alcohol, and he had been surprised to find the wine cellar still stocked with old vintages and hard alcohol. Though he had to admit, he had had made a dent in the stock over the last month and a half. What else did he have to do except sip at the rot gut liquor?

He made his face go blank as a man with greasy hair and an equally sour expression as Sirius sat next to him. "I see you already have a good handle on your day," the man snarked.

"It's better than cleaning the shite off my nose. Tell me, Snivellus, do you enjoy the smell or the taste more?" Sirius retorted.

The man snarled. "If I had all day to just think up insults, I might come up with better. As it is, I have much to do."

Sirius snorted. It was a low blow the man always brought up that he was stuck in this house. "You're insulting enough just being. You wouldn't need all day to think up more."

The man sneered at him. He looked ready to respond when the grand poohbah of the meeting swept into the room. The grey bearded man moved towards the head of the table. It was a spot his father never would have let anyone else take, but Sirius didn't want it. He didn't want to be heir to a disgraced and almost extinct house. What the name Black stood for now was nothing to be proud of.

Everyone silenced as the bearded wanker's presence could be felt. Sirius stopped swirling the liquor to see the high dudgeon the man was in. Something had happened and everyone could tell. The dower expression on Kingsley’s face and the concern on Dora's had him looking at them curiously as they followed Dumbledore. His eyes narrowed to see Fletcher sneak in. Only Kingsley would meet his eyes.

Dumbledore took up before the chair. "I have some rather disturbing news and a problem."

"Albus, what happened? I heard there was something that had Amelia Bones storming through the ministry," Arthur asked.

The man cast his eyes down for a moment, looking rather sad. Sirius regarded the man with dispassionate eyes. At one time he would have bought the act, but after Dumbledore had made Harry compete in that farce last year, and that he kept saying his hands were tied to get him a trial, Sirius didn't buy it anymore. "I'm sad to say that two dementors found Harry's house today. His cousin Dudley and Uncle Vernon were kissed. We are still looking for his aunt."

There were exclamations of disbelief, cries of fear and a Sirius that looked at the man angrily. "And what of my godson?" he asked as things quieted down when Dumbledore held up his hands for quiet.

"That is the problem. We don't know. Unfortunately, the DMLE has gotten involved and found the rogue dementors. They are currently looking for both Harry and his aunt. I can only assume they went off together before this tragedy occurred. I would like to organize a search by the Order. We must find him before the Death Eaters do," Dumbledore told them.

Sirius couldn't stop the dog like growl in his throat. "Who was watching him today?"

"I don't think we need to worry about that. Finding Harry is most important at this time," Dumbledore said.

"Fletcher. When we arrived, we found him passed out in the bushes," Dora said angrily.

"Now, Nymphadora…" Dumbledore started.

"I'll kill you if he’s dead," Sirius yelled as he suddenly leapt out of his chair and launched himself across the table at the man. He didn't even think of pulling his wand as his magic propelled him forward. Mundungus tried to get away, his chair falling over and leaving him splayed out on the floor. Only a stunner stopped Sirius from trying to kill the man…

When he woke, it was to find Remus at his bedside. He was holding out a vile with a purple potion. "Drink."

"I'm not taking any calming draft. Where's Harry?" he asked. He sat up fast and groaned as the world spun.

"Yeah, what I thought," the werewolf said.

"I didn't have that much today," Sirius complained.

"That bottle was mostly full this morning," Remus replied.

Sirius winced. "Do you have to yell?"

"I'm not yelling, Padfoot. Drink."

"What is it?"

"Sober up potion with a pain relief."

With a grunt, Sirius took it and threw his head back, downing the potion in one go. "Bloody hell! It tastes like Snivellus's shorts."

Remus rose an eyebrow. "Do I want to know?"

"Sod off," Sirius retorted.

Remus quirked a small grin before growing serious. "Are you better?"

Sirius rubbed his eyes. "Yeah."

"Good. I talked with Kingsley. Harry wasn't home when the dementors attacked. I don't know where he is, but they found Petunia," Remus told him.

Sirius looked up. "Was Harry with her? I didn't get the impression they liked him much."

Remus shook his head. "No. Her car crashed about a mile away from the house. It looks like she had gone into town to shop. The dementors must have found her and kissed her before they found the house."

Sirius put a hand to his head. The potion was working, but the headache was suddenly sharp enough to have his right eye twitch. It passed within seconds before he started to feel better. "Where's Harry?"

"I don't know, Padfoot. I went up to his room and found these under his floorboard," Remus said, handing a stack of letters to Sirius. “Moody must have missed them when they did a sweep of the house earlier because Harry had lined the space with lead.”

“Knew he had some Marauder blood in him.” Sirius took them. It was a stack of muggle envelopes with stamps and muggle paper inside of them. They were all from Hermione to Harry. "Love notes?"

"Not really, but I think they do like each other. I haven't told anyone else, but Harry was supposed to meet her today," Remus told him.

The relief that went through Sirius had him grin. "So, he is shagging her," he said rather proudly.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Will you listen, you mangy mutt!"

"Who are you calling mangy, you shaggy wolf," Sirius retorted.

Remus slapped his palm off Sirius’s forehead. Sirius winced and put a hand to his head. The pain relief dulled the pain, but it was still there. "That hurt, you bloody twat."

"Then shut up and I won't do it again. Harry was meeting Hermione and her mother. They had an appointment at the Swiss Embassy in London. They talked about how to get hold of you if he was given asylum and how to get you there," Remus informed him.

Sirius blinked a few times. "He ran?"

"He is looking for asylum. He's still hurt and confused after what happened at the end of the Triwizard. He killed a few people, Padfoot. He stopped the resurrection ritual, but still had to face off against a half-formed horror. He told Hermione he wants out, from what I can find in those letters. She's brilliant. Maybe even more so than Lily. She’s the one that suggested lining the hiding spot with lead as it absorbs magic almost as well as cold iron. He's not running. He's trying to find a safe haven and Hermione is helping him," Remus told him.

Sirius shut his eyes. It was something that James had started to hint at before that night. He was worried about Lily and Harry. Sirius thought it stupid to run. Remus had said it was a sensible move. "Ok, so he went to the Swiss Embassy. He didn't come back?"

"Obviously. I think he left those behind so you could know what happened to him," Remus said.

Sirius looked at his best mate. "What do you mean?"

"He took everything else of importance to him. The cloak, the map, his wand, his money pouch, his broom and a few other things, but left everything else behind. All his books, trunk, notes, clothes, Hedwig's cage. He wasn't planning on coming back, but you can tell he cares about you in those letters. If I was you, I would find my way to him," Remus said. "Hermione sent him that one letter you sent to her. He knows that Dumbledore was keeping anyone else from contacting him. If their plans work, you can be freed."

Sirius looked stupidly at his friend. "But leave England?"

"Can you tell me this house isn't killing you? You'll be with Harry if everything works out."

"But I'll be in prison if it doesn't."

"Since when does a Marauder care about the consequences?" Remus enquired.

After a moment, the mischievous gleam that Sirius had as a younger man came back to his eyes. "I need to escape."

-oOo-

August 10, 1995

London, England

It was a Thursday. Rotgut knew it was a Thursday as his nest mate had packed him cave bat skewers with mushrooms and tomatoes. She always made those on Wednesday evenings as that was when the fresh deliveries of surface vegetables were made to the deep caverns where the miners and crafts goblins worked.

Today he had been drafted to go to the upper levels. There was a big kerfuffle happening on the upper tiers that had his foreman nervous and many others feeling the unease amongst the ones that had come to the deep dark to retrieve extra help.

When they arrived in a three-cart train behind two other trains, they were ordered to get out. "Don't pocket anything that isn't yours and make sure every knut makes it to the cart," the large foreman barked at them.

He noticed that a few of the goblins in the nice surface suits were bloodied and made to work like the labourers. He shared a grin with the goblin next to him. Those up here had worked their way out of the mines or had family that worked in the more profitable jobs in the surface vaults and bank. One of the foremen cracked his whip at the banker. The goblin winced, then snarled at the foreman.

"Don't snarl at me, traitor," the foreman growled with malice.

Rotgut looked at his companion, who gave a toothy grin. This could be an opportunity to get a more comfortable situation.

"I am no traitor," the banker goblin snarled.

"You sold secrets of clients," the foreman angrily said, then his whip was whistling through the air and the banker hissed as he fell to his knees. "You are a traitor and thief."

A few around them hissed. To be called thief was a deathly insult.

"Move along," their foreman ordered.

Rotgut moved into the vault. It was one of the largest vaults he had seen. A dozen goblins were filling bags, crating up artefacts and calling out figures or items to three account managers recording everything in thick tomes. Rotgut was put in line with the crew moving the bags to the carts. He was wondering why they didn't use extension bags or vault portkeys to move the hoard to another vault or branch. He got his answer when he walked out of the vault and to the cart train at the front of the line.

He couldn't keep the sneer off his face when he saw four of the small things. They all had long white beards, rounded cheeks, brightly coloured costumes and held themselves as though they were far superior to any goblin. Outside of wizards, the blighters where their largest competition and known to be corruptors of magic and craftsmanship with their automatons and inventions.

Gnomes!

Any self-respecting goblin hated gnomes.

The little men, about three feet tall, were overlooking the goblins piling the coins and artefacts onto the carts.

"How much longer?" one of the stinky gnomes asked in the sacred tongue of his kind.

The bankers standing with them looked very displeased. "It takes time to do this without magic. Maybe another five hours to clear out all the vaults."

Rotgut's eyes grew a little wide. He thought there was maybe two hours of work left in the vault he had seen. How much more did they have to clear out?

"My clients are paying a premium to get this done as soon as possible," the gnome said. Rotgut watched the thing pull out a golden watch and look at it. "Our ship is cleared to leave at six o'clock tonight and it's already ten-forty-two. It will take us an hour to load the ship."

"If they allowed us to take the automatons, we could be done by now," one of the other gnomes said.

The banker dealing with the blighters snarled. "Those monstrosities will never be allowed down here."

The first gnome looked to be frowning under his beard. "If we are late, we will enact the penalty clauses."

This time the banker bared his teeth as he spoke through them. "This will be done on time, gnome."

"Rotgut, what's going on? This is the Potter vault," Bonegnasher asked in a whisper from behind him.

Almost every goblin knew of the top ten vault holders in Gringotts. He hadn't noticed the name as he went in the door. He had been enjoying the whipping the disgraced banker had been getting. "I don't know."

It was almost two hours before the last of the contents of the vault was carried out. Rotgut had one end of a large crate as Bonegnasher had the other end.

"Very good. Get this top side and begin the transport. Edeline, go with the cargo," the gnome with the watch ordered.

"Will do, boss," a younger gnome said.

Their foreman growled as they placed the wooden box on the cart. "The blighters don't trust us."

"Can you trust anyone that loves a machine more than a woman?" Rotgut asked.

His foreman snorted. "Too right. Back to the cart. We have two more vaults to empty."

"Where is all this going?" Bonegnasher asked.

Their foreman snarled. "Switzerland."

The disgraced banker was forced to sit next to them. The disgusting goblin was moaning and sitting gingerly so its torn open shirt and back didn't rest on the seat. The smell of fresh blood was causing his own instincts to rise.

"We are going to enjoy your flesh in the arena," a goblin behind them said.

The banker sat up, growling. "I only ever served the Potter accounts faithfully. It was my gerg that stole everything. I'll gut him before I die."

"I hear the king wants to gut you himself," another said.

The banker bared his teeth. "I will defend my honour, swine."

Rotgut didn't hesitate. He drew his knife and slipped it between the ribs of the goblin next to him. To let even an assistant, a gerg, that you were responsible for, steal was a sin against their kind. The banker goblin gave a gurgling sound as it tried to dislodge the knife his side. Rotgut reached over and yanked the keys off its neck. He growled a challenge to anyone else around him. He had seen the opportunity and took it.

When the banker goblin stopped moving, Rotgut flipped the restraint latch and then pushed the dead body off the cart. "Anyone want to challenge me?"

No one moved to stop him.

When the cart stopped before a dragon, he knew they were before the top four secure vaults in the building. He got off, making a show of putting the keys over his neck. The foreman saw it and didn't say a word as Rotgut walked over to the other bankers. They looked at him, then the keys around his neck, before nodding.

Rotgut could tell that two of the four master keys wouldn't work after this day, but the other two accounts would get him top side, which was a whole different fight than the pits he was used too.

Chapter Text

August 11, 1995

Wiltshire, England

A photographer had caught the giant mugglish contraption as it had glided over Diagon Alley. Its shadow cast the alley and surrounding area into an unnatural darkness for late afternoon. She couldn't help but think that it looked like a giant, silver cigar that Lucius used to enjoy so much. She hated the stink of those things and hated seeing the unnatural thing that had invaded their world.

Looking down at the article, she let a slight crinkle to her mouth show her distaste of the thing.

-o-

Daily Prophet

GNOMES INVADE DIAGON ALLEY!

By Roger Wilco

Rumours had started to circulate around Diagon Alley that gnomes had been seen at Gringotts early in the day. This was odd in the sense that gnomes don't usually visit England, having been driven out by Wizengamot legislation in the mid-1800's when they attempted to challenge the goblins for the banking sector. For those that may remember, that led to the Goblin Insurrection of 1852. Thus, it was even more shocking when the gnomes were found to be inside Gringotts.

Crowds gathered as the giant thing approached Diagon Alley. A few Muggleborn were heard calling it an air plimpy. It seemed to be in violation of the Statute of Secrecy and several ministry laws, causing senior ministry officials and a contingent of Aurors to appear.

An argument broke out between the gnomes and the ministry officials, which only ended when gnomish automatons descended from the air plimpy. This almost started a fight until the ministry officials had the Aurors stand down. It would appear that the ICW has approved the gnomes to operate all the devises as they have been heavily enchanted to prevent muggles from seeing anything.

While all this was happening, it was almost missed that goblins had started to move vast amounts of crates and money backs into the alley. As some gnomes piloted the automatons to gather the piles, others guarded the steps of the bank, not allowing anyone in or out. Whispers and speculations were heard all about the alley as it was obvious that a large amount of wealth was being removed from the bank and taken by the gnomes. Given the large piles, it can only be speculated that many vaults were emptied. And given the reaction of the hostile goblins, they were not pleased by the transaction.

The Daily Prophet does not yet know what occurred, but the staff is determined to find out. It cannot be healthy for our economy to lose so much wealth at one time, not to mention who it is affecting…

-o -

Narcissa disliked the goblins. Seeing the mugglish things the gnomes used was even worse. She would need to talk to her friends in the Wizengamot about supporting more legislation to keep those filthy things from their world. The ICW can't overrule sovereign rule.

As she looked at the other pictures showing the automatons and some of the wealth being transferred, she stopped at a picture on the inside cover. Looking at the picture, she felt something niggling at the back of her mind. A memory from when she was young bubbled up as she saw a glass case with a set of armour and weapons. It was a set of armour adorned in furs and leather. The fur was rather distinctive. In her mind, the black and white picture became an orangey umber with black spots ringed by white. A spear about four feet long with a large dark metal head was to left side and a long, oval shaped shield with feathers on the top was to the right of the armour. Across the chest was a rod, wrapped in leather strips and with feathers dangling from one end.

She blinked a few times, knowing she had seen that before.

Trying to think back, she had a vague memory of happier times. Times when she was innocent. Times before Bellatrix had started to succumb to the Black madness that affected many of them. A time when she had three sisters. It was a time when her bigger sister, Andromeda, would let her sleep with her when Narcissa was young and had nightmares. It was a time before her beloved sister had become a blood traitor and broken their mother's heart. It was a time when the three of them were laughing as they played hide-and-seek in a large house…

It came to her.

She knew that set of armour.

She knew that rod was a magical focus for the tribal person that had once wielded it.

She could remember her grandfather telling her a tale of an expedition led by him to capture a diamond mine from some savages and how it had helped the Black family's fortune.

Her mouth went dry.

She knew which vault had been emptied.

She looked through the other pictures and the article. Given the number of bags, crates and other items that the gnomes had put into their air plimpy, she had the unsettling feeling that any vault associated with the Blacks had been emptied.

As her shock wore off, anger grew.

She had always accused the goblins of being greedy, stealing blighters, even though grandfather had taught her to treat them well because of the power they held guarding their wealth. Now, she felt the anger towards the gnomes stealing her family's wealth.

Getting up, she marched purposely towards Lucius's study. The fool had gotten himself killed almost two months ago and she was having a challenging time unravelling all his schemes and machinations. If she and Draco were lucky, they would have enough money left to live comfortably for the rest of their lives once she won her challenge for him to get his inheritance from her family and resolved all the poor investments and business deals her late husband had made.

She had mourned Lucius at first. Narcissa had loved the fool. Then she found out what he had done with the Malfoy wealth and her dowry, and that mourning soon turned to hate for the man. How had she been so blind for all these years? She had been taken in by his suave demeanour, and his fervour to see the purebloods rule over Britain. Now she was starting to rue the day she had begged her father and grandfather to sign that betrothal.

At one time she wanted to be a pampered princess. She wanted a dozen children. She wanted a grand mansion that was always filled with people that envied her. She had gotten two of her three wishes. Draco had been a small miracle after a half-dozen Healers had helped them conceive. No one knew why Lucius was so barren since his father had sired three sons, but she had to suspect now that it had to do with that damnable mark he had taken from his Master. No one that had taken the mark had sired more than one child, many having no children at all, and she knew the Blacks were not a barren family. No, every witch she knew with Black blood in her had two or more children. She had more than a dozen cousins at one time. Now, there was only one child left from her large family, and he didn't even have the Black name.

Throwing the doors open to the study, she stopped to see a small pile of letters on the desk. Scowling, she was sure it was more of the bastard's hair brained schemes come to roost and would undoubtedly cost her more galleons. How the man had managed to keep them afloat all these years was beyond her as three out of every four deals seemed to fall apart. He must have been doing other deals on the side or working in the black market as well, but he had been so secretive she didn't know who to talk to or what was going on. It didn't help that his two biggest business partners had died that night, and most of his other associates wouldn't talk with her.

As she sat at the desk, her heart started to sink as she saw three letters with Gringotts seals on the top of the pile. Those never boded well. With the pictures in the paper, she had no doubts she would like what they said even less than normal.

Her father had always said it was better to find out the damage to be able to figure out a path forward, so she grabbed the first envelope. After looking it over, she shut her eyes for a moment to calm herself. It wasn't as bad as she had feared. Three of their properties had been bought. She had lost the rent but made nearly twenty thousand galleons on the deal. It was part of her late husband's estate that she had been forced to sell off.

The second letter wasn't as pleasant. Two loans had been called in. With penalties because the investment was lost, she was down nearly eighteen thousand galleons. Given other news lately, being slightly ahead was a win. Just not the type she needed. Until recently, spending two thousand galleons in a month wouldn't have been a challenging thing to do.

The last letter had her turning white.

The regent to the current heir of the Blacks decided to close all vaults and accounts and call in any deal that was backed by their wealth. She couldn't understand. As far as she knew, Draco was the current heir. As she read down, her hand started to shake.

"This can't be! Aunt Walburga disowned him," she acidly remarked.

She started to feel bile rise in her throat. As she had feared from the paper, the trust vault left for Draco had been dissolved and her dowry was being recalled for violations to the betrothal contract.

Through her fear, a new rage at her late husband roiled in her. "I'm going to exhume his ashes and burn them again," she said in a cold fury.

She needed to get to Gringotts to understand what all this meant. She had been relying on Draco's trust vault from her grandfather to finish paying for Hogwarts and his other expenses. If the goblins recalled her dowry, then the Malfoy vault would be nearly empty.

Her fury at her late husband had their one remaining house elf scurrying to repair the damage she left behind as she blasted the door off the hinges as she left the study and stalked towards her room. "Tilly, I am going out. Get Draco up and fed. When I get back, we need to have a talk."

"Yes, Mistress Malfoy," the small elf squeaked as it tried to get the door back on its hinges before repairing it.

-oOo-

August 12, 1995

Altdorf, Switzerland

Harry stepped outside the chalet that the ministry had provided him. Once he had been given asylum, it had been a few days before they could get him a portkey out of the United Kingdoms. In that time, Sirius had been able to join him. He felt bad the man was now in a prison awaiting a trial, but Harry had been able to see him a few times. The man looked much better, and the jail in Zurich was much nicer than what he heard about Azkaban. The only fact keeping Sirius sane in his new confinement was that he had a trial date set for September fifth, and he had been able to pass the regency of his house to Harry, who had used it to get both their wealth's' out of England.

Once outside, he took in a deep breath of the mountain air. The weather wasn't that much different from Scotland that first week or two they were back at school, meaning it was comfortable for him. The chalet was in a small wizarding enclave on the side of a mountain that overlooked the valley and town of Altdorf. All around him towered mountains of incredible height. He had never been around anything like it, but found he really enjoyed it.

Looking up slope, he could make out a castle at the edge of the enclave. The castle of Grenobles was much different than Hogwarts. Where Hogwarts had been a traditional Scottish castle made of grey stone, round towers, barbicans and long galleries, the castle of Grenobles was distinctly more German and practical in origin. Hogwarts was impressive, but it hadn't been made to withstand sieges, looking more fanciful than practical.

A few square towers surrounded a large central square tower. Buildings with slate roofs and white plastered walls dominated the centre of the outer walls and fortifications. At one time, it was the lord's castle of the valley, made to protect and project power to muggles. Now it was the seat of one of the top schools in Switzerland.

"Guten Morgen, Herr Potter. Heute ist ein schöner Tag," a man in a smart uniform greeted him. The Aurors uniform was more like a muggle police uniform with dark blue trousers, a belt with a few pouches, a baton, wand holster and an old fashion flintlock pistol. A dark-blue dyed dragon hide vest replaced what might have been a Kevlar vest.

"Guten Morgen," Harry replied. He had been assigned an Auror bodyguard while his asylum and citizenship application were still being processed. Knowing what was after him, he was happy to have the man. "How are you today, Auror Morgan?"

"Very good, sir."

His grumbling stomach let him know he hadn't eaten breakfast yet.

The man nodded towards a building. "Are you going for breakfast again at the Liedhogan?"

"Care to join me?" Harry offered.

"I'll just wait outside," Auror Morgan replied. Harry shrugged. He had offered the three different guards he had cycling through each time, but they had all declined. That was another difference. The Aurors here were much more professional than back in Britain.

After looking around, he headed towards the inn just inside the gates of the old walled settlement that was protected by the castle above them. Even though the wizards of Switzerland were much better integrated into the muggle world, a few settlements like this allowed areas of protection and places where magic could be used without fear.

As he made his way towards the inn, he noticed that a zeppelin was making its way over the lake at the far end of the valley. That had been a bit of a surprise. Every few days one of the large airships would dock at a tall metal tower outside the walls of the enclave that reminded him of the Eifel Tower. He had watched one on the first day he had been here and could only think of the activity of an old sailing ship.

Local crafts, crops and other trade were loaded as necessities and goods required by the local populous were unloaded. The gnomes operated a fleet of the giant blimps that flew between most of the surrounding countries. If the gnomes had a presence, the ships flew there. It explained why countries like the United Kingdoms didn't have such services, as the gnomes had been essentially banished. He also found it interesting that the countries the gnomes operated in, that goblins often didn't. He couldn't remember Binns talking about it, but Harry was sure there was a reason. He would have to find out why at some point.

He was hoping to get a letter saying that the transfer had gone well. He had contracted with the gnomes for four vaults in their main bank in Zurick and for them to handle his investments. He had been surprised to understand he had a portfolio. One in which he had instructed them to get him out of anything in Britain as soon as they could and invest where they thought appropriate. He felt the much friendlier people would manage his money well and had offered him rates that were half that of the goblins for the same services. He hoped that was a good sign that made better returns since the gnomes didn't seem to lack for wealth. The large zeppelin approaching Altdorf was proof of that. The dozens of robots the gnomes used when it docked was also a sign of their wealth and ingenuity.

After asking for breakfast from the inn owner, Harry sat in a booth where he could watch the zeppelin dock. As he watched the gnomes open the door and drop the long gangway into the cavernous interior, he was starting to think he had taken the wrong courses. To adopt muggle technology, and create new things, with runes and branches of technomancy not available at Hogwarts, had him intrigued. Auror Morgan had told him the gnomes were some of the foremost experts in technomancy, even if most of their inventions still used steam and looked more like a fanciful interpretation of what a Victorian muggle would have thought was possible. Even with that, the gnomes and other magicals around here used more modern technologies, like the television that was in the sitting room of the small chalet he was in. Once he had his approval, he was going to have to find his own place. One large enough for Sirius, and potentially Hermione, to stay at since Grenobles did not do boarding. All the students went home in the evenings and weekends, more like the muggle schools he had grown up with.

When he was done, Harry went outside to find Auror Morgan talking with an attractive woman in a dress and light jacket. In her hands was a folder. "Herr Potter, this is Frau Fetsch from the Department of Law."

Harry moved to shake her hand. "Good morning, Frau Fetsch. I was told you would be by later today."

She took his hand in a weak handshake. "Good morning, Herr Potter. I was trying to get an early start on all the paperwork that needs to be completed. Do you have anywhere we can talk in private."

"The chalet the consulate has given me is open," Harry offered.

Not long later he sat at the table in the small kitchen. Auror Morgan was standing at the doorway as the woman made a few piles of paperwork. Harry still loved magic. There was far more paper and parchment work than the thin folder could have held otherwise.

"To start with the easy stuff, this pile is your accepted petition for asylum and a residence permit for the canton of Uri. If you want to move to a different canton, then you will have to be responsible to register yourself and it will reset the requirements for applying for full citizenship without a petition from your new canton," the woman said.

Harry took the pile. "How long do I need to wait to apply for citizenship if I stay?"

"You can get a C permit after five years, and then apply for full citizenship," Frau Fetsch told him.

Harry looked through the documents. That was one thing Hermione had told him. He should always look at any form. She had also told him he should get a solicitor. It was something Mrs Granger had told him as well, but he didn't know where to get one yet. After making sure the information was correct as far as he could tell, he signed the documents.

"Do you have anything about my godfather?" Harry queried.

"We have assigned him a lawyer, an Herr Erouche from the public defenders. If you want to find a different attorney, you are welcome too." She searched through a pile of parchments. "Here is his information. I assume he will reach out to you soon."

Harry nodded, taking the paper.

“Next, I have your application to Grenobles. They have been unable to get a copy of your transcripts from Hogwarts. If you are amenable, the headmaster would like to schedule a series of exams and evaluations next week to determine your class level,” Frau Fetsch told him.

Harry snorted. “Figures,” he commented darkly.

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry, Frau Fetsch. I was afraid this might happen. If I can have the schedule, I’ll do whatever is needed,” Harry replied.

She nodded and handed him a few sheafs. “This is the schedule and what you are expected to be tested on.”

Harry took them and gave a cursory glance. Given the way he had to learn the last few years, he didn’t see any spells that caused him concern. He was worried about Runes and Artithmancy, considering he had never taken the courses before.

Looking at the schedule, he was determined to do well. Hermione would be joining him in the week after next and if he could show her high marks on the tests, he was sure she would be proud of him.

“Is there anything else, Frau Fetsch?”

“That is most of what I had. I would like to meet again next week to see how you are doing,” she answered.

Harry nodded. “Thank you. I need to find a bookstore to revise for this.”

She gave a smile. “Auror Morgan can help you find what you need.”

-oOo-

August 13, 1995

London, England

"Dolores, get Creswell in here right now!" Fudge ordered. This thing with the goblins and gnomes had gone far enough and the last two days had been as bad of a headline as the one last week about the Boy-Who-Lived being missing and assumed dead by rogue dementors. He was being persecuted by the press, not to mention the daily protests in the lobby. He was desperately trying to hold onto his tenure as Minister of Magic but was finding it hard with three major debacles in the last two months.

The pink clad woman had bags under her eyes, having put in as many hours as he had in the last few weeks. "Cornelius, I really don't think we should cave to these demands. We need to find out whose gold the gnomes stole."

Fudge moved to the window. He was spinning his bowler hat in his hands. Below he could already see the gathering protestors. Dozens were holding signs as they congregated around the Statue of Brethren. The goblin on the statue was regarding the wizard in the way a creature should. It was not threatening rebellion.

"Damn it, Dolores. The people want to know what is happening. Creswell is the Goblin Laison and handles all these little blighters. Get him in here and get me Scrimgeour. I want those people out of the atrium," Fudge demanded. With a reproachful look from the woman for being used as a gopher, she left his office. Cornelius turned to look out at the atrium again, his bowler hat turning faster in his hands.

Nothing had gone right since that night of the last task of the Triwizard Tournament. The boy had won the tournament after claiming there had been an unplanned addition to the task. Dumbledore was claiming Lord Thingy had come back, but Potter wasn't saying. Worse was the scene found in a graveyard in Little Hangleton by the Department of Underage Magical Use. When a team had reported there after the sensors had detected a lot of magic by some unknown underage person, they had found a blood bath. Six dead purebloods, three others that were injured enough that two of them were still in St Mungo's, and a cracked stone cauldron that had the Unspeakables all excited. Croaker was putting in more requests for funds daily and he didn't have the power to stop whatever they were doing.

Looking for a scapegoat, he had worked with the Daily Prophet to leak that Potter had been the one responsible for the massacre and Dumbledore was a senile old man. There was no way Lord Thingy was back!

Bones had been ordered not to say anything and shut down her investigation. She had fought him. The argument had ended with her handing in her resignation. Scrimgeour was much more pliable and had issued the report that the people had been massacred, but it was unknown by whom. He had demanded for Scrimgeour to name Potter, but they said they couldn’t identify magical signatures. Something about budget cuts in the past. He blew off the comment to have him focus on who killed his allies. He needed the citizens to believe it had been Potter. But instead of focusing on that, most of the public were focusing on the death of Diggory and Krum inside the maze.

Given that every underaged witch or wizard was at Hogwarts, except for Harry Potter that night, there could be no other that could have ambushed and killed those fine, upstanding citizens. He disregarded the education board reports that only about forty percent of underage wizards attended the school. He also disregarded the reports that Hogwarts had severely fallen behind many ICW standards, which was why most parents either home-schooled or sent their children out of country. Dumbledore and his pureblood backers… uhm, allies… said it was the best school, so it had to be.

With all this unwelcome news, he needed to cast the blame elsewhere, but Potter was now out of the running with him missing and his family kissed by creatures the ministry was supposed to have command over.

He was brought out of his fuming by shouting outside his door. He heard Dolores yelling and rolled his eyes. What was the woman doing this time?

Looking down, he was thankful the windows of his office blocked out sound as it looked like the protestors had started to chant something. The noise outside his office grew. When he heard a muffled explosion, he dove for his desk. It was probably a good thing he did as only a few seconds later the door to his office was thrown off its hinges. It spun through the room, made a cracking noise as it hit his solid old English oak desk then smashed through the magically reinforced windows. The chanting stopped as people screamed.

"Don't kill her!" someone shouted from the receiving area.

"I am the undersecretary…" Dolores's scream was cut off. The receiving area grew quiet as the disturbance in the atrium was in full swing. A second later someone shouted, "Clear!"

"Clear!" a few more responded.

He moved to peer over his desk. Dolores was slumped against the door frame to his office. There was blood on her left arm. Three Aurors were approaching the clearly stunned woman with wands drawn. One of them cast another stunner as another started to summon her wand and other items off her.

Shakily he stood up. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Minister, stay down. We are unsure if the danger is over," one of the Aurors told him.

He bristled. This was beyond the pale. "I am Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic. I demand you tell me what is going on."

"Dolores Umbridge is under arrest for suspicion of murder and attempted murder."

"What… she isn't… you can't… Where is Scrimgeour!" he ordered.

The grizzled man came into view. "Morning Minister. I'll have this door and your window repaired in a few."

"Scrimgeour, what is going on! Dolores didn't do anything," he told the man.

"Get her out of here," Scrimgeour said as he stepped into the office. Ropes were now binding her. One of the Aurors levitated her.

"What is going on," he demanded once more.

Scrimgeour sat in one of the chairs before his desk. "I am making an arrest in the Potter case, like you directed me too."

Cornelius’s mouth moved a few times. "But Dolores! I'll just have to pardon her for whatever she did."

Scrimgeour leaned forward in his seat. "I wouldn't recommend that."

"What do you mean?" Cornelius had lost some of his key allies and couldn't afford to lose more.

"I am trying to fend off an insurrection in the Auror office. Six aurors have handed in their resignation since you sacked Amelia last week and twenty more are threatening it. If I don't deliver some real justice, you will not have an Auror force left in a week," Scrimgeour told him.

Cornelius scoffed. "It's only twenty Aurors. Just increase the recruiting."

The look Scrimgeour gave him had Cornelius fidgeting with his hat. "Minister, do you know how many Aurors are left after the cuts to the department over the last decade?"

"Hundreds. Why bother me with these details? Release Dolores. We can't have any more controversy right now," Cornelius ordered.

There was a pregnant pause before Scrimgeour stood up. "If you order me to do this, Minister, I will hand in my resignation as well. For your information, in nineteen-eighty-one, when You-Know-Who was defeated, we had two-hundred and fourteen Aurors. In nineteen-eighty-four, when you implemented the first cuts, we had two-hundred and fifty-six as we were building up to our full levels of three-hundred and fifty. As of today, there are forty-six Aurors with only three in the training program. You figure out what will happen if you lose half your force."

Cornelius mouth opened and closed like a fish for a moment. "Surely not. You must mean there are two-hundred and forty-six."

Scrimgeour shook his head. "Forty-six. I had fifty-two before Bones walked out. Due to recent laws and budgetary restraints, I can only bring the force up to fifty. Good day, minister. I have a case to prepare."

Cornelius swallowed. "At least get rid of the people in the atrium!" he yelled after Scrimgeour. A chant had started again about hanging him.

"Can't. I have half my force in Diagon trying to keep the goblins from rebelling," Scrimgeour yelled back. "Hello, Creswell."

A middle-aged man looked into the office. "What happened here?"

Cornelius scowled. "What is it, Creswell?"

"Another missive from the goblins. They are demanding to meet with you," the man replied.

"Not right now. You deal with it," Cornelius ordered.

"I recommend you meet with them, minister. It has something to do with the gnomes. They are also getting rather testy with the wizards demanding they take back all the eviction notices that were sent out yesterday," Creswell said.

Cornelius looked at him stupidly. "What eviction notices?"

"Didn't you read the report I gave your secretary last night?"

"Dolores handles all that."

Creswell sighed. "That explains why the goblins are so upset then. Minister, you need to meet with the goblins. Fifteen businesses in Diagon Alley, including the Daily Prophet and Flourish and Blotts received notices of eviction effective the end of this month. More than two dozen apartments are also affected. Hogsmeade has almost as many eviction notices. People are upset and I think Undersecretary Dolores told the goblins to stop bothering people and get back to business or the ministry would step in to stop them."

He couldn't stop the groan that escaped his lips. "Merlin. She didn't?"

Creswell put a folder on his desk. "The letter given to me today was just short of a declaration of war."

"But… but… how? Who?"

"I'm not sure, but I think it had something to do with the gnomes," Creswell told him. “My counterpart in Gringotts says the goblins are calling it an inquisition and witch hunt with how the gnomes are digging through things.”

Cornelius’s really bad summer and day just became much worse.

-oOo-

The same day…

Hogwarts, Scotland

Ten days. It had been ten days since Harry disappeared. Once again Albus was trying to get the blood tracker to work, but it would just keep spinning. That was all it ever did now. Spin. At one time the arrow would point in the direction of the boy, but now it wouldn't.

Frustrated, he swept his hand across his desk, sending the blood tracker and other instruments flying to the floor. He violently pushed himself away from his desk, sending his chair falling backwards and crashing to the floor before he started to pace his office.

"Where in Merlin's name has that boy gotten to?" he asked his silent office.

Typically, Fawkes would be trilling his soothing song to keep him from getting this upset, but the bird had gone through a burning several days ago and was still too young to do much. He was also happy he had silenced the paintings. The last thing he needed was another jab from Phineas Black about losing his pawn. Harry wasn't a pawn. He was the boy that would defeat Tom. Albus was doing all he could to guide the boy in the direction he needed to go.

When the gargoyle over the door announced, "Minerva McGonagall," Albus stopped and took a breath. He quickly righted his chair and moved to the window. It was better for him to appear in control. He didn't need his staff more agitated than they already were.

When the door opened, Minerva immediately said, "Albus, its Grenobles again."

He closed his eyes to keep his temper in. "What does the headmaster want this time?"

"It's not directly from them. Grizelda has forwarded a complaint to her about not receiving several transcripts and other requested information," she told him.

"I have made it very clear that Harry Potter will not be attending," Albus said, unable to keep some of his irritation out of his voice.

"If we don't find the boy then he won't be attending Hogwarts either," she snapped at him. Minerva had been quite vocal in her anger at him and Mundungus for allowing all this to happen.

"We are doing everything we can to locate Harry, Minerva. Every available Order member is out there," he replied.

"Potter should never have been left with Muggles to begin with, Albus. They had no way to protect him from something like this," she retorted.

He took in a long breath and let it out. "The wards that I established around his relatives house should have kept any dark creature or Death Eater from approaching the house. I don't understand why the wards didn't work."

"And the rumours that there was evidence of abuse in the house?" she questioned.

He sighed. He knew that Harry was having a hard life. It was a sacrifice that was needed to be made to keep him alive. He had just assumed that it was a hard love. "I do not believe Petunia would have been abusive to her nephew. You yourself said she spoiled her own child."

"Her own child yes. Nymphadora said they found a blood-stained mattress in the ground floor closet, multiple locks on the door to his room and a cat flap. That does not sound like spoiling," she angrily remarked.

He let out a sigh. Not for the first time Albus was speculating that Harry had run. "Has anyone been able to find miss Granger yet?"

"As far as we know she and her parents are still on vacation. We don't know where they went. She didn't tell Mister Weasley," she said.

"Very good. If you would leave me to continue my own search for Harry," he said.

"Albus, you have to respond to Grenobles. I can't send another mail refusing the information they are asking for," she replied.

"Very well. I will contact the headmaster," he replied.

"We need to find Potter. I can't stand to lose another Gryffindor this year," she remarked.

He was about to blow her off, but something about her tone caught his attention. "What do you mean another Gryffindor?"

"I have told you many times, Miss Granger applied to Grenobles. I received her official withdrawal from Hogwarts last week when students were to return their acceptance for the fall term," she said, sounding exasperated.

He blinked at her a few times. He had been so concerned with finding Harry, and not believing that he would actually leave England, that he had not put it together. "It is Harry's records that Grenobles is requesting, correct?"

"Yes, but I sent them Granger's and Longbottom's transcripts as well. I have had to send out twenty-three students’ information to other schools this summer. I gave you the list of the eight that have already withdrawn."

"Yes. I believe you did," he said distractedly. If Granger had withdrawn and she was going elsewhere, what would the odds be that Harry would follow her. "Did Miss Granger apply to any other schools?"

"I do not know. Only Grenobles has reached out to me, but she did request a copy of her own. It is possible she copied it and sent it elsewhere," she replied.

"And did any other schools request Harry's transcripts?" he asked.

Her lips pursed. "No."

"Did you give him a copy?"

"No. You wouldn't sign off on the request," she said. "Albus, you aren't thinking that Potter found a way to get to Grenobles?"

He had a pensive look. "I am unsure, but it could be possible. I will contact the headmaster right away."

Minerva looked ready to leave this time but was caught off guard as a silvery lynx burst into the office. A deep man's voice echoed out from the Patronus. "Assistance needed immediately in Diagon Alley. A fight between goblins and wizards at Gringotts."

Minerva paled.

Albus felt a chill go through him. "Call up the Order. I will be in Diagon Alley."

"Albus, if there is bloodshed…"

"I know, Minerva. Get the Order. Meet at Headquarters. I will call if I need assistance, otherwise I will come as soon as I can," he ordered. He wanted to call out to Fawkes, but the small, still featherless chick just stared at him. He didn't remember it taking this long before for Fawkes to grow back.

Chapter Text

August 15, 1995

London, England

Cornelius Fudge sat in the chair next to the podium. He nervously licked his lips as Chief Warlock Nott tried to get the members of the Wizengamot under control. Many were standing and yelling. He was only happy that this was a closed session. If the media was about to find out what he had to say today, then he had no doubt that he and many of the members here would be out on the street.

“ORDER!” Nott bellowed with the use of a sonorous charm.

Getting the elder Winchester Nott elected to Chief Warlock after they had deposed of Dumbledore had been the last good thing he had done. With the death of his son, the elder Nott had come out of retirement until his grandson could take over the Nott seat in the Wizengamot. He was the only one really holding the core of Cornelius power together now that Lucius Malfoy was dead. That control seemed to be waning as unwelcome news upon unwelcome news kept piling up.

“I will have order,” the man bellowed again, and the crowd started to calm.

“We need to declare war on the goblins!” someone yelled out. He looked around to see a red-faced Harold Parkinson. The boy had just turned twenty-one and taken over his father’s seat. Another victim of that disastrous night. Cornelius knew that it was somehow Potter’s fault, but there was no evidence.

“That is enough! This is a chamber of decorum and law. Do not act like some uncouth muggle, boy,” the chief warlock chastised. “I will not put up with anymore dissonance until the floor is open for debate. If everyone is ready, I call this meeting of the Wizengamot together. Today is a legislative matter.”

Cornelius took a handkerchief out of his pocket and padded his head.

“We are gathered due to the unprecedented events that are causing unrest and malcontent. The minister,” the man said with some disdain, “the Head of the DMLE and the Head of the Goblin Laison Office have prepared reports of what is known. Minister Fudge, I will hand the floor to you to tell us of the meetings you have had with the goblins the last few days.”

Cornelius got up and put the ridiculous purple tricorn hat on his head as he stepped up to the podium. Murmuring and unkind faces met his awkward clearing of his throat. “Lords and Ladies, I have been meeting with the top accountants and heads of Gringotts for much of the last three days and I am afraid I do not have much good to report.”

“The goblins are foreclosing on my family’s estate! We have lived there for six generations,” Lady Yaxley yelled at him.

“ORDER!” Chief Warlock Nott bellowed.

The older woman, again another one that had to come out of retirement recently, huffed and sat in her chair, glowering at Cornelius.

Cornelius lifted his hat to pat the sweat off his forehead again.

“Minister, please just cut to the chase,” Nott ordered.

“Yes. Yes, of course.” He swallowed. “I do not know all the details, but I can confirm the identities of the vaults that were closed by the gnomes and some of the issues that have come from it. I do not know what has happened with Lady Yaxley.”

“Which vaults!” Lord Corner called out.

He swallowed again. “All Potter and Black vaults have been closed and transferred to Switzerland. The goblins have been contracted to close out all business, properties, alliances and contracts for the Potter and Blacks. This includes any illegal stealing, selling or seizure of property and valuables that any illegal regent or other person or body have done since nine-teen eighty-one.”

He had expected the room to explode in noise. Instead, he noticed many worried or stunned faces. What he had not expected was a cackling laugh from his right. Everyone turned to look at the elderly woman.

“You find this funny, Longbottom!” an angry Lord Parkinson yelled.

“I find this quite amusing, yes. I do believe that I spoke against naming a regent for the Potter scion last fall and now he has found a way around you,” she said. “Amelia, I know enough. Are you staying?”

“I think have heard enough as well,” Bones said, standing up. “Chief Warlock, I would like to pass my vote for this session to Lord Patil.”

“This is most unusual to procedure, Bones,” Nott said.

“I would pass my vote to Lord Patil for this session as well,” Longbottom said. She held her arm out and Bones took it.

This caused a kerfuffle that took some time to calm. When it did, Lady Malfoy stood. “Chief Warlock, I propose the Wizengamot pass a law freezing all Potter and Black assets and recall the illegally stolen wealth from the gnomes. I am the last one of Black blood that was not disowned by the last Lord Black.”

Cornelius cleared his throat. Everyone turned to him. “The goblins said if we do that, then they will rebel. Sirius Black was not disowned and named Harry Potter as his heir and regent. It was Potter that closed all Black vaults and accounts. The goblins allowed it because the Wizengamot never convicted Sirius Black…”

The angry outburst wouldn’t be easily quelled. His heart sank as he watched eight more members, all related to Bones and Longbottom, stand up and quietly leave. They had all spoken out against Dumbledores annexation of the Potter estates and had spoken their support for the Potter brat. Cornelius and others had seen the promises of wealth from Dumbledore. He feared for his life when everyone realized that the goblins would take back anything Dumbledore had given or sold to them…

-oOo-

Same day…

Hogwarts, Scotland

“Let us through the gate, wizard,” the burly goblin demanded.

Dumbledore stood just inside the gate of the school. Most of his staff had wandered down here over the last twenty minutes as he had tried to reason with the goblins. Hogwarts wards were calling out for protection, even though he wished to keep this quiet. They all stood by him as they looked at a host of goblins. The last twelve days had seen everything unravel and now he was being asked to let in this rabble to ‘collect items’ that don’t belong to the school or others.

“Manager Toothfang, I assure you that there is nothing in Hogwarts that belongs to the Potter or Black families. Everything in possession of the school has been either legally bought or donated. I see no reason for you and your companions to enter the grounds,” he said back in an even tone. He had to admit that there was more of an edge to it than he meant there to be, but he had sat with Cornelius much of the last three days to prevent the idiot from starting a rebellion.

The goblin curled his lip. “That is for my audit team to discover, wizard. Let us in or we will find a way in. Or do I declare you oath breaker and call for our king to dissolve the current treaties?”

“Albus, you must let them in. Hogwarts is a signatory of the treaties,” Filius said in his squeaky voice.

Internally he wanted to snarl at the little man. He didn’t care that Hogwarts was a signatory. There were things that he needed. “There is no need to do that, Toothfang. I am also aware that Hogwarts is a signatory to the treaties, and I am not violating any of them when an unlawful order is presented without the backing of the ministry.”

It was a fine point, one not specified in the treaties, but one where he knew that the ministry had to approve of any seizures of lawfully obtained property by the goblins. It applied the other way as well, but no wizard had ever been fool enough to try it against the goblins.

“Gringotts does not need ministry backing when the items were unlawfully taken. We are also to assess the condition of the beast felled by Harry Potter in the spring of nineteen-ninety-two. Now, open the door and let us in,” the goblin demanded.

Albus felt a little bit of fear go through him. “Until you have a proper order from the Ministry, the gates will remain closed.”

“Albus, are you sure you want to push like this?” Filius questioned.

“There is nothing that was obtained illegally, and the beast was never claimed by mister Potter. Return with a proper order and you will be let in,” Albus told them.

The goblin sneered. “According to Mister Potter, he was never informed of his rights, a responsibility of his guardian and a violation of goblin law and treaty to not do so. I do not need a ministry order to enter for this violation.”

“Albus, you told me that he donated the basilisk to the school,” Minerva said.

“I am not giving up the ingredients that I have,” Snape said.

“We will claim everything that rightfully belongs to our clients. Do you refuse to open the gates?” Toothfang demanded.

“This is an illegal seizure of lawfully obtained items,” Albus said. “The gates will remain closed to you.”

Filius shifted uncomfortably before stepping forward. “Headmaster, I respectfully give you my notice to terminate my employment. Per contract, I will stay for the required two weeks. Manager Toothfang, I will not stand in your way and ask for recognition of my non-resistance.”

Albus blinked. He was already trying to fill one position. “Filius, that is not necessary.”

The diminutive man looked up to him. “Headmaster, I will not be part of this blatant violation of treaty, and if it is true that you did not inform mister Potter of his claim over the basilisk, then you and whomever helped you are going to face goblin law, not to mention the Wizengamot. Manager Toothfang, do you recognize my non-resistance?”

Toothfang had a small smile. “I recognize your non-resistance. You will have your two weeks by contract. If you are still on Hogwarts grounds twenty-four hours after your official termination, you will be considered complicit.”

Filius slammed his right fist over the left side of his chest. “Very well, Manager Toothfang.”

Albus did not like the look Filius gave him before starting back up to the castle.

“This is the last time I will request entry, wizard,” the annoying goblin said.

“I must decline your request,” Albus told him.

“So be it. You have twenty-four hours before we return,” the goblin told him. The host turned. Many of the goblins gave them toothy smiles. Albus was concerned, but he couldn’t let them in. There were to many important items in the school, and they did not give him a list of the items they were searching for.

“Albus, what will happen if we don’t let the goblins in?” Pomona asked.

“Nothing. The treaties do not allow for illegal seizure of heirlooms and belongings by goblins against wizards or wizards against goblins,” he assured her.

Minerva was frowning. “Ye're meddlin' wi' bonfires. If they come back wi' warriors, ye'll hae my resignation.”

He looked at his transfiguration professor and frowned. He could tell she was agitated as her brogue came through. “I assure you, Minerva, there is nothing to worry about. I’ll go over to Gringotts once I visit the ministry.”

“Minerva, is this as serious as I think?” Pomona asked as he turned to walk back to his office. He needed a few things before going to see Cornelius.

“It's mair serious than ye ken, Pomona. I shallnae bide fur a siege an' risk losin' ma accoonts or or get a taste of goblin justice,” Minerva replied.

He walked faster. He had to stop this before he lost most of his staff. Severus fell in besides him. “Albus, you told me Potter donated the carcass.”

“As his guardian, I signed off on it,” he replied.

Snape made an angry hissing sound. “I’m going to lose all those rare ingredients because you are an old fool. I have used some of them already.”

“Severus, there will be no need to worry. I am sure this will all be cleared up. As Harry’s guardian, I have full rights,” he assured the man.

Severus nostrils flared. “I must report to the Dark Lord again tonight. I am unsure when I will return.”

“Very well. I assume you have a new potion to try?” he enquired.

“There is no potion that will have him recover. Are you sure you do not want me to eliminate him?”

Albus sighed. “That would not be ideal. He needs to have a body for Harry to finally defeat him.”

“And you are sure that the diary and that ring you found are the only ones?” Severus enquired.

“I do not see him tearing his soul into more than three. It wouldn’t make sense. The arithmancy says that one’s magic and sanity will start to suffer,” Albus replied.

Severus had an unreadable look. “He isn’t sane. Do you think he would care if the arithmancy said it was safe or not?”

“I am sure that he would not go that far. No one has ever split their souls more than once, let alone twice,” he replied.

“I hope you are right. It still means we need the boy,” Severus said with some disdain.

“I feel confident he will soon return. Moody and Remus are on his trail,” he replied.

Severus walked besides him for a moment. “You believe he is in Switzerland?”

“I am positive. He’s had his fun and been able to have a small adventure but will understand that he has a duty to complete back here,” Albus said with certainty. He had made sure that Harry would feel a duty to save everyone.

“I think you put too much faith in Potter.”

“And I think you put too little. Now, if you excuse me, I must see to my other duties today,” he said as they reached the doors. He felt the privacy charms fall when they walked through the doors. He had important things to do, the least of which was to prevent the fomenting goblin rebellion and keeping them out of Hogwarts. 

-oOo-

August 23, 1995

Altdorf, Switzerland

Harry grinned to watch a young a girl and her brother waiting for the train. They were the only ones on the platform. They were playing a game he had seen some of the other children play in the town of Grenobles. He just hadn’t expected to see it on the muggle train platform.

“One. Two. Three. Go!” the girl said. She draped her hand over her fist. The boy held up three fingers like a hat.

“I win!” the girl exclaimed.

“I have the witch!” her brother cried out. He was a good two or three years younger.

“I have the gnome. Gnomes always wins,” she declared victoriously.

“Victoria! You can’t play that here,” a haggard looking woman said as the train pulled into the platform.

Harry heard Auror Bellevue chuckle at the young siblings as they were dragged a little further down the platform. “I remember getting into fights with my sister over that game.”

“It looks like rock, paper, scissors,” Harry replied.

"Harry!" a bushy hair girl exclaimed. She had a bag slung over her shoulder that bounced wildly as she hurried down the platform.

"I'm not going anywhere, Hermione," he said playfully before she crashed into him. He made a small 'oomph'. "One of these days you're going to knock me over."

"Oh, hush," she said into his chest. "I've been so worried about you."

He hugged her tightly back. He was used to being separated from her from previous summer or winter hols, but he couldn't hide from himself how much he had missed her the last few weeks. He closed his eyes to hold her in his arms, leaning his head against hers as she held him tightly.

Someone cleared their throat.

Harry opened his eyes and moved them to look up. A smiling Doctor Granger was standing next to a stern looking Doctor Granger. He stood up. "Uhm, hi, doctors Granger," he said.

"I see she found you," Mrs Granger said with a small laugh. Hermione let him go and he reached out to shake her mother's hand.

"I never really got to say thank you for your help," he told her.

She moved to take him into a hug. He tensed, like he always did when anyone, but Hermione touched him. "I'm glad to see you are good. I know your owl has found us to let us know you're alright, but Hermione has been so worried."

"I'm fine. I swear," he said to see Hermione roll her eyes at him.

When she let him go, he held out his hand for Mr Granger. "It's good to see you again, sir."

The man's stern demeanour lessened. He put her trunk down and reached for Harry's hand. "Please don't call me sir. I had enough of that in the military. It is nice to meet you again." They shook hands, Harry trying to meet the sudden firm grip. "I assume you haven't gotten into any trouble lately?"

Harry gave a little grin. "The Aurors makes sure I stay out of trouble. Though, we should get back to Grenobles. Some people tried to pick me up the other day."

Mr Granger frowned as Harry indicated the man not far behind him. Hermione picked right up on what he said though. "What do you mean some people tried to pick you up?"

"Let's get a taxi and I can tell you," he replied. The train station was in the valley and a few kilometres from the old walled town and school. He leaned down and took one side of the trunk. Mr Granger took the other side and they moved towards the road.

"Harry, who tried to pick you up?" Hermione demanded as she followed him.

Harry gave her a grin. "Moody and Remus showed up. Remus is staying with me for a few days, hope you don't mind, but Moody had to be arrested."

Her mouth moved a few times. "What! Professor Moody tried to kidnap you?"

"Yep," he said.

"Are you alright? Nothing bad happened?"

Harry shook his head. "No. They showed up outside the school when I was done with my tests the beginning of the week. Remus was happy to see me. Moody tried to grab me and use a portkey. Auror Bellevue stunned him when the portkey failed. Apparently, there is a portkey ban inside the town and school of Grenobles."

"I thought you said you haven't gotten into trouble?" Mr Granger questioned.

"I haven't. That was just something interesting," Harry replied.

Hermione looked around. "You don't think anyone else will try, do you?"

"I doubt it. Remus has told me what is going on back in Britain," Harry replied with another grin.

"It's awful. I've been getting the Daily Prophet, though its usually a few days old. Have you seen that Fudge is facing a vote of no confidence tomorrow or that the goblins have besieged Hogwarts?" she asked.

"I'm glad we got you out of the country," Mrs Granger said. "There isn't anything like that here, right?"

Harry shook his head. "No. It's been quiet here. The local wizards get along well with the other races, and they don't seem to care about your blood status. From what I understand, that was part of what Grindelwald used during the Great War to press his 'Greater Good'. The Swiss didn't like that, so eliminated all the laws that divided people by blood and race. You should see what the gnomes can do, Hermione. I'm hoping I get into the advanced Runes, Technomancy and Arithnomancy classes. They use engineering with magic and have robots and all sorts of stuff. Though, I would like to get away from using steam like they do," he said with passion before becoming pensive.

She just stared as him as his Auror guard hailed a taxi.

"It's wicked. And the testing the last week hasn't been that bad either. I find out Monday what classes I qualify for, but I've already decided I'm dropping Magical creatures. I want to do something with magi-engineering. The gnomes offer masteries and there are a few workshops that the gnomes don't run. Maybe I can start my own business? You know that there is a rune chain that allows electrical items to work around warded areas? Think of everything you can do?"

When he looked down at her, he wasn't sure exactly how to interpret the expression she was wearing. Something about it brought out something tingly in him, as well as concern because he hadn't seen it before. "Hermione?"

He wasn't prepared for her to suddenly dart forward, go on her tip toes and have her mouth crash into his. It was a little awkward, but when she pulled back, her face was red with embarrassment while he just looked at her with a wide-eyed dumbfounded look.

Mrs Granger held her hand out to her husband. "I told you."

The man grumbled as he put a fiver in her palm. "She’s still only fifteen. She's too young."

Mrs Granger chuckled. "She'll be sixteen in less than a month. Besides, she's been pining after him for years."

"Hermione?" Harry said as Auror Bellevue took the trunk out of his hand to load it into the boot of the taxi.

“I want to see Grenoble,” she told him, moving swiftly for the taxi.

“Hermione?”

Her mum slipped an arm around his. “Why don’t you show us where you’ve been the last month.”

“Damn, I thought I had another twenty years,” Mr Granger grumbled under his breath.

-oOo-

August 24, 1995

Hogwarts, Scotland

Seething didn’t begin to describe how he was feeling. For eight days now a host of a thousand goblins had been outside the wards of Hogwarts. Having posted legal recourse for their actions, the Wizengamot was in an absolute deadlock with most of the Bones alliance having walked out and the others facing their own issues with the goblins and that he had not been able to leave the castle since the goblins had set up their camp, he was livid at the inaction of the ministry and the letter he held in his hand from the Board of Governors.

Looking down towards the main gates from his office, he could see the blue energy of the wards fending off the little sodding curse breakers. If they were there for much longer, he felt they would penetrate the wards.

When the knock came at his door, he snapped, “What is it!”

The door opened to let Minerva in. “Albus, did you receive a missive from the governors?”

“Of course, I did! The cowards have instructed me to let them in,” he retorted.

“And do you intent to do as the governors want?” she questioned.

His lips pursed. How the hell had everything come down so fast? The boy had been under his control and beaten down not twenty days ago. How the bloody hell were they to beat Tom without Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore leading him to his fate?

“I either bow to their wishes or let Hogwarts wards be breached for the first time in three hundred years,” Albus said bitterly. “Inform Severus that he is to get all his supplies to the front lobby. Minerva, I will need to collect several books that were gifted to you over the years and have Pomona, Filius and Poppy report to me.”

He didn’t see Minerva’s eyes narrow. “Ye handed me lifted goods?”

Albus wasn’t in the mood for her temper or heavy brogue. “I gave you items that came into my hands through fully legal means. The goblins claim otherwise. As soon as I can get this cleared up, I will return the books.”

“Whit be thae legal means? The goblins dinnae get sae riled fur legally obtained goods, Albus. Ye ken hoo they feel aboot thievin' bastards,” she replied.

“I am no thief!” he said angrily as he turned to her. His power flared some. “James Potter and others said they would help in any way they could. I have never taken more than I should or needed to reach our goals. I am no thief.”

She stared at him for a long time. “I doot James didna mean for ye tae tak' as muckle as it wad tak' tae get the goblins this birlit. And whit aboot the basilisk? That should be nae problem tae gie that ower.”

“That is none of your concern, professor. The list of books I need for you is here,” he said, flicking his wand. A sheaf of paper came out of a pile and flew towards her. She snagged it out of the air.

With an angry snort out of her nose, she looked at the list. “Feckin' Merlin and the saints! This is half ma advanced books!”

“Just retrieve them. I will make sure you get them back,” he ordered.

Her nostrils flared as her lips puckered. “Scunnert Sassenachs aye muckin' up ma bonnie lands. Ma giein' up will be oan yer desk within the 'oor.”

His temper flared again. He couldn’t understand half of what she was saying when like this. “Enough, Minerva! I will expect you to be at your post as expected on September first.”

“Nae wi' ye the castle! Ye can let the rest ken aboot whit ye nicked.” She spun on her heels and slammed the door when she left.

“Merlin’s bloody ball sack!” Albus yelled. It took a few minutes before he calmed enough to lift his wand. With the foul mood he was in, it took three tries before his phoenix Patronus flared into existence. “Severus, to my office. Now.”

The majestic bird flew out in a flurry. It looked as angry as its caster.

-oOo-

The same day…

London, England

Cornelius sat in his office. He knew it would be the last time. The protesters were still in the lobby. Goblins had besieged Hogwarts and had the legal authority per treaties and the ICW to do so. They even had bloody observers from the ICW to ensure they didn’t break any treaties as their curse breakers tried to break into the school!

Looking around at a lifetime of politics, he was trying to figure out when it all went wrong? How had a thirteen-year-old school kid brought down him and most of the purebloods in only twenty days?

As he looked at the small amount of scotch left in the decanter, he found himself wanting more. Ever since Lucius had died in that graveyard, nothing had gone right for him.

When a knock came at the door, he waved his hand as though the person on the other side could see him motion to come in. After a moment, the door opened. An equally haggard looking man from the Magical Law department stepped in.

“Minister, you wanted that report on the issues with the goblins,” the man said.

“Just put it there,” he said, waving towards a pile that was over three feet high on his desk. “So, is the ICW supporting all the foreclosures?”

“I’m afraid they are all legal. Fifty-five foreclosures, one hundred and eighty-three evictions and five hundred and seventy-two loans. About half of that is from the Potter and Black estates and contracted by the gnomes with the goblins. The other is from bad business deals with many of the Wizengamot and old families,” the man said.

Cornelius sighed and poured the last of the decanter into his tumbler glass. “Thank you, Scotsbee.”

“It’s Southerbee, minister,” the man said with a little annoyance.

Cornelius waved his hand. “It won’t matter soon. The vote is in an hour. Can you tell my secretary to get an elf up here and pack my office?”

The man frowned. “Very good, minister.”

He walked out, leaving the door open. Cornelius sighed again. He was about to get up and close the door himself when a terribly angry woman stepped into the room. “Lady Yaxley, what do I owe this pleasure to?”

“You can get off your lazy arse and get to Gringotts! I refuse to let those little monsters take my estate. They gave me a notice today that they will begin proceedings to break my wards tomorrow if I don’t hand the estate over to them by eight in the morning,” she just about hissed in her anger.

“And what would you have me do?” he asked dispassionately.

“You march down there, with all the Aurors you have, and get them to stop this. The Wizengamot passed a law yesterday forgiving all the debt from those deals that Lucius Malfoy bound most of us too. Do you have any idea how much that man cost my family!”

Cornelius could take a guess. He had never heard the term pyramid scheme until a Muggleborn in accounting had let him know what it meant a few days ago. From the sounds of it, Lucius had been running such a scheme for years, embroiling all his allies, the ministry and him personally. If the statement he received yesterday was true, he had only a few thousand galleons left to his name, not the almost two million he had expected.

“I can guess what Lucius Malfoy cost you. It would appear he cost a lot to many of your allies. There is nothing I can do though,” Cornelius told her.

“You can get the Aurors to Gringotts and blast it to the ground then get all our gold out of their vaults,” she snapped.

He looked up at her. “With what Aurors are you talking about, Lady Yaxley?”

“All the Aurors of the DMLE. A few hundred wizards should be able to bring those beasts down,” she stated rather imperiously.

Cornelius couldn’t keep him his snort of derision. “If only we had that many Aurors.”

“Poppycock. Of course, we have that many. When my husband sat on the seat, we kept over three hundred on the active rolls,” she stated.

He gave a dark chuckle. “That may have been so, but part of Lucius’s schemes was to reduce the Auror core to fifty-five Aurors. Those were laws and budget cuts all his allies voted for. In the last week that has shrunk to twenty-five. If you noticed, I don’t even have a guard anymore. They are all in the lobby, Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade. So, I ask again, Lady Yaxley, what do you expect of me?”

She stood there stock still. “You lie!” she accused after a moment.

“If only. I assure you I am being rather truthful right now,” he told her. “If you don’t have anything else, I would like to enjoy the last time I have in this office.”

“Why, I never!” she snapped. “I’m going to press for charges once you are voted out of office.”

He nodded. “I’m sure many will want too. For you, for me, for many here, this is the last week of what I thought was the true power of the purebloods. I never believed in all the dogma that most of Lucius and his allies espoused, but purebloods were always on top. I don’t see any of our allies lasting past the debt collection at the end of the month.”

He toasted her before knocking back the mouthful of scotch he had left.

She was bristling with anger. “I swear, I will seek my vengeance on you and everyone that has brought the Yaxley family so low.”

He snorted. “I might be scared, madam, but like many of us, you won’t have the resources to do so for much longer. I would suggest you go and pack up anything you don’t want those little menaces getting.”

She huffed before storming out of his office.

Cornelius looked at the empty decanter and empty glass, wishing both were full to the brim. When one of the ministry’s elves popped in, he told it to pack his office as he got up and dressed in his Wizengamot robes for what he was sure to be his last time.

Chapter Text

August 25, 1995

Zurich, Switzerland

Stumbling a little, Harry stepped out into the main lobby of the First Gnomish Bank of Switzerland. It was their main branch, thus was opulent and in the centre of the bustling trade district on the outskirts of Zurich. It was a busy enclave that saw heavy banking and commerce that the gnomes and Swiss wizards maintained for much of the European states north of Switzerland. He would have to visit the fifth bank later today to see his vaults. He was meeting with his account manager and then visiting the Ministry to meet Sirius first.

Auror Edelweiss followed behind him. "Next time you should let me go first, Herr Potter."

"I was just anxious to get here," Harry told him.

"Welcome. Are you Herr Potter?" a rather clear and deeper voice than expected for the short man that was walking up to them said. The lobby of the bank was fairly busy with people waiting to get to a row of tellers behind a long marble counter and behind wrought iron fencing, people waiting in chairs, offices that had other gnomes and workers and two automatons escorting a cart with a few chests on it.

"I am Herr Potter. Are you Rosetwist?" he asked. He hoped that he got it right.

The barely three-foot tall man smiled. "I am not. I am Meadowcraft, an assistant to Accountant Rosetwist. If you would follow me, I have a room reserved for the morning."

Ten minutes later Harry was comfortably sitting in a chair, sipping on an excellent rose tea and snacking on fresh baked biscotti as he looked through a new leger book that Meadowcraft had given him while he waited for Rosetwist. Auror Edelweiss stood off to the side. Harry had offered him some of the treats that had been lain out for him, but all the Auror had done was test the food and tea for contaminants and politely refused anything.

When the door opened, Harry stood up to greet a nicely plump little woman with a congenial smile. "Good day, Herr Potter. I do hope you excuse me for being late but there is still some stuff we are handling with your accounts in Britain," she said.

Harry held out his hand. This would be the first time he had met the accountant assigned to him. "Good day, Frau Rosetwist. It's been no issue waiting. The tea and biscotti are excellent, and I've been going through the leger book that was left in here."

Rosetwist smiled. "Why don't you take a seat then. I can go over what the Gnomish Bank of Switzerland has been doing for you and where we stand with closing all your investments and accounts from Britain and the goblins for both the Potter and Black accounts."

"Yes, I am interested in that. I see there have been some substantial deposits into my main vault the last few weeks," he said. He didn't fully understand what everything meant in the leger, but it was unmistakable that he now had almost double the galleons than what he been told he already had. If that much had been reclaimed for him, he was wondering what the Black accounts looked like.

"Yes, it has been substantial, but far below what I would have expected given the accountant sheets that you and Gringotts gave us. Would you like me to go over the Potter or Black accounts first?" she asked.

"I would like to hear about my accounts first, please," he replied.

"Very good. As I have sent you, the Gnomish Bank was able to claim just nine-hundred, eighty-three thousand and four hundred-thirteen galleons, seven sickles and fifteen knuts, along with one hundred and thirty-eight heirloom items, two-hundred and three books, twenty-two thousand four hundred sixty-eight documents and forty-two pieces of furniture from the main family vault number thirty-two and your trust vault number six hundred and eighty-seven from Gringotts London. A further forty-three thousand five-hundred and fifteen galleons, twelve sickles and eight knuts from Gringotts Paris and a final fifty-four thousand, two hundred and sixteen galleon, two sickles and twenty-two knuts from Gringotts Paraguay. The Paris and Paraguay accounts were business accounts. We are still seeking funds from Gringotts Egypt, but that branch is proving difficult to work with," Rosetwist informed him as she opened a folder she had brought with her and took out several sheets.

"Why is Gringotts Egypt not cooperating? Do I need to sign any more forms or anything?" Harry asked as he took the papers.

"It is goblins being goblins. Some of the local administration is raising a fuss that there might be illegal or stolen items in your vaults. One of your great-grandfathers and a great uncle were prominent curse breakers. The goblins, following proper protocol…" It was obvious by her tone that she didn't believe a word of what she was saying. He could also hear some of the gnomish dislike of goblins. "…provided the Egyptian Ministry with a list of items that were taken from dig sites. I am still working on organizing the documents from your vaults, but I have found several contracts and lists of approved items as payment for their services. Lastly, we are also having issues obtaining the proper permits to move an airship into Cairo. I think we will have this cleared up within the week. If not, then I will give you the standard relief in our services per contract since we did not meet the contracted date."

Harry shook his head. "That won't be necessary, Frau Rosetwist. When you can get things cleared up, just get it done."

She inclined her head. "That is generous of you, Herr Potter, but we contracted for all items to be resolved by August thirty-first. I do not see The First Gnomish Bank being able to achieve that."

"I will change the date if you need," Harry offered. "What else is there?"

She looked a little flustered at his offer before continuing. "As contracted, all the items and moneys have or are being transferred to a secure vault in the Fifth bank branch. Everything from Gringotts London and Paris are deposited. The airship from Paraguay is expected two days from now. It will all be held in the Potter Trust. We recognize that you are emancipated in the wizarding world, but still a ward of the state in the muggle. Being emancipated does not override the expressed wishes of your parent's will or the previous Potter Trust. As such, you will be given access to ten percent of its value on your eighteenth birthday, twenty-five on our twenty-first birthday, fifty percent on your twenty-fifth and full access on your thirtieth. Until then we will manage all new and sustaining investments equal to fifteen percent of the total value until you are able to authorize more. You will have full access to all heirlooms, documents and other physical properties on your eighteenth birthday."

"We have also established your trust vault according to your parent's will. As required, ten-thousand galleons will be made available every August thirty-first between now and when you turn eighteen. All educational expenses will be met from the main vault. Do you have any questions on that?"

"No," Harry replied.

Rosetwist nodded.

"Now to the trickier side of your estate. As I said, we are still going through the documents that were in your vaults and held by the goblins. I expect that to continue for the next two months. As contracted, we are still on schedule to reclaim any stolen or illegally removed items and money by the end of the year, as well as close all investments in Britain. To date, we have managed to recover eight-hundred and sixty-three thousand four hundred six galleons, fifteen sickles and eight knuts. I am expecting to recover another five-hundred thousand or so. I am afraid to report projected losses will top three-hundred thousand galleons and most of the basilisk that you have claimed is either missing or already used. I do not think you will be able to get the hide that you wanted," she told him.

"Bloody hell," he murmured. He had wanted a basilisk cloak now that he understood what he had lost. "What have you recovered?"

"Five fangs, six kilos of powdered bone, three-hundred and ten millilitres of venom, eighteen kilos of preserved meat, a quarter of the heart and other organs and two litters of blood. It is only a small fraction of what you should have and all that was retained by the potion master at the school," she told him.

A scowl crossed his face. "Snape," he growled.

"I'm sorry for your loss. The best I can offer is to reclaim the estimated loss. We can sue Hogwarts for six-hundred and thirty-four thousand galleons. A personal complaint against Albus Dumbledore for the same amount has already been submitted to Gringotts through our contract for you and the ICW," she said. There was a little bit of a gleam in her eye at this. “I hear that the goblins are not pleased with the headmaster already.”

“Did Hogwarts steal the basilisk or did Dumbledore?” Harry asked.

“The contract we have from Gringotts, signed by your illegal regent, states you ‘donated’ sixty percent of the proceeds and the potion master’s choice ingredients. We have only been able to retrieve about a third of what Professor Snape claimed for Hogwarts. The Headmaster has refused to return the donated funds,” Rosetwist said.

“I want it all if you can’t get any of the hide or the other parts,” Harry said.

She grinned. “I will forward that request to Gringotts as well.”

"As for the reclamation contract with the goblins, Gringotts reports they have been able to reclaim three hundred and twelve items of the seven hundred and fifty-two that is suspected to be missing. They have earned a three percent bonus per schedule. I will be chartering another airship to arrive there September fifteenth. Next, I can report that fifteen of the thirty-eight buildings you own will be closed by the end of the month. I also expect you to be fully divested by the end of September in any business you have full or partial  ownership of within Britain or the ministry’s colonies," she told him.

"Thank you. I would like to get my family's pensive and any of my family’s spell books as soon as possible," he told her.

"I can charter an airship earlier, but I thought it prudent to give the goblins three more weeks to find other items," she replied. “It will also cut down on our fees for the charter.”

He frowned. "I can wait. Anything else about the Potter estate?"

"Just some odds and ends. Would you like me to go over them?"

Harry shook his head. "No. What about the Black estate?"

Rosetwist frowned. "I know you are regent, but as we discussed previously, I cannot give you an exact accounting of all Black assets and moneys until you are eighteen. You are authorized to allow us to act on Herr Sirius Black's behalf to move accounts and authorize the Gnomish Banks to retrieve all lawful funds and artefacts that belong to Herr Black."

"I understand," Harry replied.

"As expected, the Black account is proving far more difficult. We have been able to close out all vaults, except for Gringotts Egypt and South Africa. A catalogue of all Black holdings and artefacts is proving hard to establish as we are having to sort through the records of four extinct branches, the mismanagement of the main line and are unable to access three properties that belong to Herr Black," she told him.

"As his regent, can I get you into those properties?" Harry enquired.

"From the little we could gather before the goblins forced us to leave, our rune weavers believe it would take a crew of eight ward weavers a month to break through each property's wards. There is no guarantee that breaking the wards will not damage the property. Only the proper lord of the Blacks would be able to enter freely," she told him.

"Sirius was afraid of that. Do what you can. Do we need to change any dates on the contracts for House Black?" he asked.

"I would hate to have to ask, but I don't see it being possible to do everything promised by the end of the year," she told him.

"How much longer do you need?"

"Perhaps a further six months," she said. "If Herr Black were available, and the goblins more agreeable, then we may be able to move faster."

"His trial is in less than two weeks," Harry told her.

Rosetwist nodded. "I am aware of the date, but if he is not pardoned in Britain, that will not help."

"Okay. If I can do anything to help, don't be afraid to ask," he told her.

"I will ensure to reach out to you as soon as I know. I do have some positive news. I have been able to process the requests to dissolve the Lestrange estate to pay for reparations for violations of contracts and harm to the Black family. About half the value of the estate will go to pay for reparations to the Blacks, but the rest will have to go to creditors and the ministry for taxes. I can confirm that will be north of two-hundred thousand galleons of reparations. I am still moving against the Malfoy estate, but Lady Malfoy has been able to maintain her credit standing and has been able to pay every loan or investment that has failed so far. With her husband dead, the harm clauses no longer apply," Rosetwist informed him.

Harry shrugged. "Those were Sirius’s request. I don't really care. What about the Rosiers and Parkinsons?"

"Again, with the old lords dead or missing, it is not possible to prove harm against the family, and both women that married into those families were from lesser branches. Harm to the main branch may not be enough to claim reparations for contract violation," she told him.

"Alright. Thank you, Frau Rosetwist," he said.

"My time is always at your disposal, Herr Potter," she replied.

It was thirty minutes later that he was sitting at a table waiting for Sirius to be taken to him. The table was in a large room with a dozen other tables. Aurors and guards could be seen around the room as he wasn't the only one visiting today. When a door opened behind him, Harry turned to see Sirius walking next to a guard. His wrists were in manacles, but he wore a smile to see Harry.

Harry got up. "Sirius," he said happy to see his godfather.

Sirius hugged him as best he could. "Hey, pup. You are looking good. Getting enough sun?"

"Yeah. It's been brilliant to be around Grenobles and Altdorf. You are going to love the mountains," Harry replied. They sat at the table.

"Good to hear. Has Hermione joined you?" he asked.

Harry's smile was huge. "Yeah. She arrived the other day. She kissed me, Sirius," he said, still a little shocked at that day.

Sirius gave a barking laugh. "Brilliant. About time. So, are you shagging her yet?"

"Sirius!" he said, his cheeks starting to burn. He looked around furtively to see if anyone was looking at them as the man laughed again. A few of the guards looked their way, as did his Auror guard. "She only said yes to being my girlfriend last night."

"Good on you, pup. Anything else good? I don't get much news in here except with my lawyer visits," he said.

"Remus is here. He showed up with Moody last week," Harry said.

Sirius brow furrowed. "Moody? What was he doing here?"

"Tried to take me back to Dumbledore. Got himself arrested instead," Harry told him.

Sirius growled. "I swear, if Dumbledore tries anything again…"

"You won't do anything," Harry told the man. Sirius gave him a hard look. "Sirius, you will be a free man next week. You don't want to go back to jail, do you?"

Sirius let out a long breath. "No. I can't wait for my hearing. The lawyer says he already has me cleared for veritaserum, so everything should go well."

"Great! I can't wait. Mr and Mrs Granger are helping me find a place where we can stay. Remus is going to be moving in since Hermione will be living with us at first. Mr and Mrs Granger said they are going to move, but it will take a few months to get everything settled," he told him.

Sirius gave him a big smile. "That is great, Harry. I'll be so happy to be a free man and be able to go places again."

"Yeah. I was told once you are cleared, then most of the countries in Europe will recognize it," he said.

"I know. I'll have to go visit the properties I know my family had in Spain and Corsica. I won't be able to go to France though," he said.

"But you can petition to have a hearing, from what I understand," Harry replied.

"Yeah. There is that. Enough about sad stuff, tell me about you and the lovely miss Granger? Have you seen her knickers yet?" Sirius asked with a devilish grin.

"We have only kissed, and I told you she only became my girlfriend last night," he told him, his face turning red again.

Sirius’s cheeky grin didn't lessen. "Who says you need to be dating to see a girl's knickers?"

"I think visiting time is over," Harry said, looking at his wrist. He didn't have a watch on it but got up anyways. "Oh, the gnomes have been able to get most of your vaults, they foreclosed on everything for the Lestranges, but the Malfoys are just as slippery as always."

"That’s great to hear. Wait, where are you going! We still have another ten minutes," Sirius whinged. "I want to hear more about you and my accounts."

"I'll see you next week at your hearing," Harry told him. "We'll go see the gnomes afterwards. I have another appointment to get too."

"Harry? Bloody hell! You can't run from me forever," Sirius grumbled before getting up to go with the guard.

Sirius smiled as Harry turned and waved to him. “He’s just like James,” Sirius said, remembering all the times he had teased James about Lily to see how red his best mate would get. "I will find out if you have seen her knickers."

-oOo-

August 28, 1995

Altdorf, Switzerland

The last week had been like something out of a fairy tale for one Hermione Granger. Out of some insane impulse, probably why the sorting hat had put her into Gryffindor, she had kissed her best mate. She had kissed Harry Potter. She really must have been mental, but he was excited about learning and had such look of wonder on his face that she couldn’t keep her hormones from reacting, so she kissed her best mate. Then tried to run.

Since that day, Harry had cornered her and demanded to know what that had been about. As much as the hat had argued she should be in Ravenclaw, Hermione just knew she had to be in Gryffindor. As though to prove she was a true Gryffindor, she stopped listening to the voice of reason and kissed Harry again.

When he got over his shock, he had asked her to be his girlfriend.

Since that night, she was the happiest that she could ever remember being, especially that she was walking up the main street towards the gates of Grenobles. Dozens of other students were as well. With her bag over her back, she was happy that it was a lovely day out and that they didn’t have to wear robes. The uniforms would have fit into any muggle school. Today she had gone with the skirt option. So, she wore a red and black tartan design skirt with a white blouse, black suit coat, black stockings and black shoes.

Harry was wearing much the same, but in khaki trousers and a red tie with the school crest in black towards the bottom of the tie.

They had said goodbye to her parents and Remus at the door of the house they were in. “They are still watching us, aren’t they?” she asked.

Harry peaked over his shoulder. “It’s kind of cute,” he said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “When I was six and going to primary.”

Harry shrugged. “No one ever cared enough to make sure I got to school before.”

She squeezed his hand. “I always cared.”

He gave her a winning smile. “Thanks.”

At the gate, they had to give their name then line up in the main courtyard by class. Even with Hogwarts being behind ICW standards, they lined up where the fifth years were instructed to. She had studied ahead enough, and Harry was such a natural spell caster, the professors here didn’t think it would do them any good to repeat fourth year. She saw a lot of people greeting each other. Things looked friendlier here. It was also less students. With Harry and her, she counted only twenty-three in their year when the headmaster called for them to line up. It was a little disturbing at the almost military precision that the second years and up easily slid into line. Each year spread across the courtyard so everyone could see the stage easily. The first years had to be guided into position. Harry looked furtively around to make sure they had done it correctly.

Then the Headmaster stepped onto a small platform on the top of the stairs to the main doors. When he started to speak, she quickly realized that she had forgotten to activate her translation stone. She was learning German but had only been studying it for the last month. When they were making their plans to come here last year, she had not thought about the language.

“…welcome back to all those that have been here before. As always Grenobles welcomes those that have an open mind to learning, a sharp intellect to keep to our exacting standards and encourage a healthy competition between our students. More importantly, though, is that we encourage friendship and acceptance,” Headmaster Kenagy said.

Hermione hadn’t understood that, but looking around, she was positive she could make out two girls of veela descent, three much shorter third years that looked to have gnomish blood, and even two that looked more like Professor Flitwick.

“I expect all the upper-class men to maintain the find traditions of Grenobles and help those just joining our family, whether this be your first year or transferring from a different school. Teach them the pride of being of Grenobles, for many of our graduates are leaders in the outside world.

When you are dismissed, please report to the classroom on your yearly acceptance letters. If you do not remember, then Herr Trunk and Frau Westfeldt will be available to help you.”

“This is going to be different,” Harry whispered.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Hermione whispered back.

-oOo-

August 30, 1995

Daily Prophet

Last edition

By Barnabus Cuff

DAILY PROPHET SCHEDULED TO CLOSE DOORS AFTER 216 YEARS IN BUSINESS.

It is with great regret to report that I will be the last editor and person to be in the building that the Daily Prophet has been in for over two hundred years. As a formal notice required by the shareholder charter, the staff of the Daily Prophet must report that we were unable to secure a new line of credit or investors after weeks of negotiations and searching. As of August 31, 1995, the Daily Prophet will shutter its doors and be required to auction off all items to satisfy debts and leans.

Now that I have made the official notice, I would like to express my anger at the stupidity of former Minister Fudge and all the lackeys at the minister and Wizengamot! From what the Daily Prophet has been able to gather through deep investigation is that everything comes down to two things.

The first is the former minister’s campaign against The-Boy-Who-Lived, which ended in an assassination attempt and the boy fleeing the country, taking his wealth with him. This has caused many foreclosures, evictions and loan failures in which the Daily Prophet has found itself embroiled in.

The second is the families and allies around the Malfoys, Parkinsons and Goyles. It would appear through corruption and ineptitude, the most prominent families in our world ruined themselves and all those they supported. If documents that the Daily Prophet was able to obtain were correct, the Malfoys were the head of a scheme that cheated most of the prominent families out of millions of galleons and bankrupted many in the last few months.

I call upon the members left of the Wizengamot to clean up our ministry and restore good people to the standing they deserve. The Daily Prophet will find a way to continue and report on these happenings. With the extra money raised from the auction tomorrow, I pledge to establish the New Prophet. It will work diligently to expose any corruption, bigotry or other actions that endanger our lives and livelihood.

Until that time, I ask for the support of every witch and wizard that would like the truth to be know. Any donations are to be sent to The First Central Gnomish Bank of Switzerland, care of the New Prophet. Quarterly statements will be made available upon request for all accounting of funds in a bid to show that the New Prophet’s pledge to remain pure and unbribed remains.

Your obedient servant and seeker of truth,

Barnabus Cuff

-o-

Narcissa swallowed a rather dry piece of toast as she read the front-page editorial. Reading the paper, she knew the writing was on the wall. With her husband being blamed for all the stupid investments that his old group of idiots had done; she knew that people would be looking for her blood soon.

“Tilly!” she called out.

A few seconds later the little house elf scurried into the room. “Yes, mistress?”

“Wake up, Draco. Turn him out of bed if you need. Then start packing everything we own. Make sure that the travel trunks are packed first. Draco and I will leave as soon as possible. After that, ensure everything is packed and start transporting everything to the cottage in Spain,” she ordered.

Tilly looked at her with wide eyes. “That will take days, mistress.”

“I don’t care. I think we will have visitors soon and I don’t know how long the wards will last if they come. Get everything of value first. Now go,” she ordered.

Tilly gave a little bow and scurried away.

Narcissa gave the paper one last snarl before getting up. She marched down to the study. In a small cupboard in the bookcases, she found two carpet bags. Plopping them rather unceremoniously onto the large desk, she moved around to take the most valuable books and nicknacks, carelessly piling them into the bags. When that was done, she levitated one of the guest chairs to the side and kicked over the rug. After a tap of two boards with her wand, a trapdoor in the floor opened. Under it was a safe. She fumbled with the muggle style lock a few times before she got the right combination. When it clicked open, she grabbed one of the carpet bags. Inside were all the important papers of investments that hadn’t failed, promissory notes from other families, most of which were probably now bankrupt, the deeds to the three properties still in her or her son’s name and a few pouches of coins that added to about twenty-thousand galleons. It wasn’t much, but it would have to last since she doubted she would be able to get into Diagon Alley and Gringotts any time soon. She may have to talk to the gnomes to get out the last of her money.

That thought had her snarling. It was those disgusting, muddy things that had brought on this last disaster for her family.

She was just putting one of the bags of galleons into a pocket in her dress when Draco walked into the room. The fifteen-year-old boy was still dressed in his night clothes, rubbing his eyes and looked distinctly disgruntled. “Mother, that stupid elf of yours just turned me out of bed,” he said rather petulantly.

“Draco, not now. Go get dressed then pack what you need in a single trunk. We are leaving,” she told him.

The boy snarled at her. “Get one of the other elves to pack my things.”

“Tilly will pack them,” she said.

Draco snorted. “That disgusting thing won’t be doing much for a while.”

She stopped her frantic packing of the bag and looked up to him. Her eyes narrowed. “Draco, what did you do?”

He snorted. “The stupid thing pulled the sheet out from under me and dropped me on the floor, so I ordered her to jump off the roof.”

“YOU DID WHAT!” she screeched. Narcissa hurried to get up. “Tilly!” she called out. “Tilly!”

“Mother, what are you yelling for? It’s still early,” Draco whinged.

Her hand was moving before she even realized what she was doing. Her backhand hit Draco with enough force to knock him off his feet. Her wand came up. “You stupid, spoiled brat. Where is Tilly?”

Draco looked up at her rather stunned. Blood was trickling from the edge of his mouth. “You hit me?”

“I will do much worse to you if you don’t learn to grow up. Now, where is Tilly?”

“I told you. I had her jump off the roof,” he said.

The anger that ran across her face had Draco scared of his mother for the first time in his life. He knew that Blacks had a temper, but he had never seen it before in her. When she spoke next, Draco felt the fear that Black women had been instilling in their enemies for generations. “I have raised a spoiled fool. Did I not tell you last month that I had to sell off the other elves? She is the last one and we need her right now to save anything that is of value in this house. You are to go find her, heal her and then get anything you can pack into a single travel trunk to the main atrium within the hour. If you are not their and ready, I am leaving without you.”

Draco looked at her with frightened eyes. “We… we can’t leave! I go to Hogwarts in two days,” he said.

She closed her eyes and counted to ten. “One hour, Draco. If Tilly is not healed and you are not ready, I will leave you here. Any boy stupid enough to act like you do, is not a child of my blood. You are just as foolish as your father,” she said.

“My father was a great man!”

“Crucio!” she yelled. All the hatred she felt for Lucius and the spoiled boy that she had worked so hard to bring up in the proper way to be ruined by her late husband came out. Draco screamed. She wasn’t sure how long she held it for, but when she let it up, Draco was curled up on the floor, his legs and arms shaking and crying.

“One hour, Draco. When that clock chimes, I leave,” she told him before turning back to the safe. She finished getting out the last of the items. On her way out of the office she stopped at her still whimpering spawn. Out of pity, she dropped a bag of coins. “There are five-hundred galleons in that bag. Use it wisely if you are not ready. Fifty-four minutes.”

She walked out of the room to find Tilly and then get her trunk packed. If her last house elf was dead, she wasn’t sure if Draco would live or not?

-oOo-

Same day…

Hogwarts, Scotland

A very dower looking old man with a long white beard and hair was looking down a table with thirteen witches and wizards that had their wands raised. He made a particularly sour face to Augusta Longbottom.

“You endanger everyone, Augusta. What do you seek to accomplish with this vote?” he said to her like he was scolding a child. The woman was no child though, even if she was a good thirty years younger.

“I think it is noticeably clear what I and the other governors have accomplished. Albus Dumbledore, by unanimous vote, the Board of Governors dismiss you from your duties as headmaster, professor emeritus and any other position you may possess at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” the smug old biddy said to him.

He wanted to blast that damnable vulture on her hat to a thousand pieces.

“I demand to know the just cause of this!” he said, standing up and towering over the others. He knew he could be intimidating when angered.

“The fact that the gnomes are pressing the goblins to return more than six-hundred thousand galleons isn’t enough? Where are all the funds, Albus? The accounts are at fifteen percent of what they should be,” a middle aged woman with a large ledger book demanded.

“The funds have been administered by my Assistant Headmistress for years,” he tried to steer them towards Minerva.

“I see what the Assistant Headmistress singed off on, but that only account for about half of what Hogwarts has spent each year for the last thirty,” the woman said.

“I will not be beholden to someone that does not understand the running of this school,” he said, looking down his crooked nose at her as he leaned over. “What is your just cause?”

“Sit down, you old fool,” a man down the table ordered.

“Where do we start if you don’t want us to look at the books, Albus?” Amelia Bones casually remarked. She started to flip through papers before her. “A sixty-five-foot basilisk was roaming the halls in the nineteen ninety-two to ninety-three school year. An underaged wizard was forced to compete in a tournament that he expressly said he did not want too in the ninety-four to ninety-five school year. A troll in the school in October of nineteen ninety-one. A teacher that has well over a thousand complaints in the last five years alone. Falling test scores in all subjects except transfiguration, charms and arithmancy. The removal of three courses that are core subjects by the Hogwarts Charter of seventeen-forty-six. Do I need to go on?”

His face grew stormy. “There is no need to teach such dark things as rituals, enchanting and duelling. Every Dark Lord in the last hundred years has used those to great and destructive effects.”

“That is not your say, Albus. That is something that is only supposed to be changed by the board, and only with a charter change. I didn’t even know those were core classes when I attended,” Amelia stated. He could sense her own anger.

“I can remember. Rituals was remarkably interesting,” an old man stated.

“They are very dangerous,” Albus countered. “You still can’t throw me out.”

“I’m afraid we can. Are you aware that you have lost five of your professors and we have not received any applicants from you to replace them? How do you plan to open the school in two days?” Augusta questioned.

“They have just taken late vacations,” Albus retorted. He had never thought that Minerva, Pomona, Poppy, Flitwick or Babbling would actually walk away, especially after he had managed to break the siege on the castle.

“We have their resignation letters, with a list of grievances, some going back thirty or more years, starting about the time you became headmaster, Albus,” Amelia cooly stated. “The ledgers say that you have paid teachers in those subjects for the last thirty-two years. Where did those salaries go and why is Professor Binns still receiving a salary when he is a ghost and there is no one left of his line?”

He kept his mouth shut.

“Albus, you have until ten tomorrow morning to pack your items and leave the castle. Three house elves will watch you to ensure you only take items that belong to you. I won’t have the goblins or gnomes levying another search or fines against Hogwarts. I request the board transfer all wards to myself until a new headmaster can be decided on,” Augusta said.

“You can’t do this! I am the headmaster of Hogwarts.”

“You were the headmaster of Hogwarts. As of a few minutes ago, you are no longer. Surely you must have felt the loss of the wards?” the same old man asked from down the table.

That was a ridiculous statement… he paled some as he tried to reach out to the wards. He could have thrown them all out. Except… there was nothing there. He tried again, before feeling a spike of panic, then rage as Augusta gave a smug smile.

“You will all regret this. I am the only one that knows about Voldemort and that can prepare the next generation for fighting the darkness,” he said ominously.

“From what I see, you are not preparing anyone. St Mungo’s submitted a report that most Healer candidates need to go through two years of remedial potions to bring them up to standard and the Aurors have signed sixty-three waivers for potions NEWTS in the last five years. That is every auror cadet that has been accepted into the program. How is that preparing the next generation?” Amelia probed.

Albus didn’t say anything.

“Thank you, Albus, but your services are no longer required. Please send in Professor Severus Snape on your way out,” Augusta told him.

With a look of absolute rage, he spun on his heels and stormed out of the meeting room. He would get the wards back and everything would run smoothly like it always has. He would then get Harry Potter and throw him before Tom as soon as he could.

Two hours later he was levitating six trunks behind him as he stormed down the main path. Fawkes refused to take him to his old home. The phoenix had bound itself to Hogwarts years ago and would only serve the new headmaster now. He was determined to regain his titles, his school and Harry Potter.

When the gates clanged shut behind him, he turned to glare at the place that was his. “I will return. Hogwarts is…” he stopped his angry rambling as a painful prick came to his neck. He reached up and felt something long and fuzzy. Pulling it out, he was confused to see a long, thin dart with feathers on it. His confusion didn’t last long as clouds moved in around his vision.

He fell to the ground, partially aware of what was going on. A rough foot kicked him and then rolled him over. His eyes fell upon the ugly face of a grinning goblin. He would have screamed and pulled his wand if he could have moved…

-oOo-

About the same time as the Governors meeting…

Wolverhampton, England

Severus stood over a bubbling cauldron trying another potion to save his master. If he thought he could get away with it, he would just poison the deformed creature that lay in the other room, but Albus had said the Dark Lord must live until Potter could carry out his fate.

He snarled, cursing the boy. It was all Potter’s fault that he was stuck here, between two old wankers that had delusions of ruling the world.

A man leaned against the door frame. “Is it ready yet?”

“You can’t rush these things, Mulciber,” Snape said.

“You have been brewing that for three days now. It should be done. Our Master needs to be healed,” the man said.

He had to bite his tongue. The fact that ‘The Greatest Dark Lord’ of all times had been beaten by a brat, not once, not twice, but four times now, did not endear him to the man anymore.

“If you want, you can deliver this to him right now and see what happens,” Snape offered, pulling a ladle over and spooning out a teaspoon portion.

Mulciber frowned before walking away.

Maybe he should just poison his master and return the man to a dark wraith. He didn’t understand why the man had to be in a body for Potter to kill him. Wouldn’t a simple spirit banishment work? Or maybe a runic ritual circle?

As he pondered his dark thoughts, part of him paid attention to the potion. He added the fresh unicorn blood when it had turned a sickly green colour. The blood turned it to a pearly white. Satisfied it was nearly complete, he let it simmer for another twenty minutes. When done, he ladled the potion into twenty vials. Taking one, he went into the next room.

Pettigrew was sitting in a chair. The nails on his only hand were chewed to nubs and bloody. Mulciber stood in the corner. This was Mulciber’s family home they were in and one of the few the goblins were not hunting down or repossessing. Apparently, Mulciber had not thought much of investing, so had not gotten caught up in Lucius’s schemes.

“Severus… is it…ready,” a weak voice came to him. In a bed was the wretched form of a man that Potter had left.

The man’s left arm and leg were shrunken, like they belong to a small child, while half his face was caved in. Severus didn’t know what had gone wrong with the ritual, but Pettigrew had said that the Dark Lord came out fine, but a little bit later, while duelling Potter, the man had started to scream, and his two limbs had reverted to the childlike thing he had been. A banished rock thrown by Potter had caved the man’s face in. It was a disgusting thing that was just barely hanging onto life. Severus suspected that the Dark Lord’s soul was trapped in the homunculus body, which was the only reason it still lived.

“It is, my lord. This should reduce your pain and rebuild your magic,” he said. Severus sat on the edge of the bed. Lifting the head up, he dipped the vial into the man’s mouth. The Dark Lord took it in. Within seconds, the pain that was clouding his eyes and face receded.

“Ah, you did well, my servant,” the man said to him. “How long before the restorative potion is ready?”

Severus wanted to get up, but stayed where he was. “There is an issue, my Lord.”

The things remaining red eye turned to him and focused on him. “What issue? You said it would be ready by the full moon.”

“I did. I did not realize that I would need basilisk bone to complete it. There have been… side effects, that I cannot counter any other way,” he explained.

“Then get basilisk bone,” his master demanded.

“I cannot. The goblins raided my entire stores and search the castle and my home. I have none and do not have the funds to acquire more,” Severus said.

“Then tell Lucius to give you the money,” the Dark Lord ordered.

Severus was quiet for a few. He knew they had told their master that Lucius and others were dead. “Lucius is dead, my lord.”

“Then get his wife to give you the money.”

Severus swallowed. “I can’t, my lord. She has not answered your call and refuses to see anyone that was associated with her late husband.”

The thing growled. “Then get Parkinson.”

“Lord Parkinson is dead also, my lord,” he said. He was waiting for the curse.

“Then get whomever else has the funds!” the man ordered impatiently.

“There is no one else. Many are currently fleeing the goblins or imprisoned by them already. All your most faithful followers are here,” he said.

There was a moment of panic that passed across the ruined face of the once great man. It was briefly gone. “CRUCIO!”

Severus bit the inside of his mouth to keep from screaming. He fell to the floor in agonizing pain. When it stopped after only a few seconds, he was out of breath, but surprised that it hadn’t lasted longer. When he sat up, he saw the Dark Lord’s wand on the floor, his hand hanging over the side and the man panting as though he had just run a marathon.

“What… did… you do? I should be strong,” the man said.

Severus shared a look with Mulciber. The man was looking at their master. He knew that Mulciber only respected strength and this thing before them was not strength. He could see the man considering if he should kill their master or not.

“I will do what I can to restore you,” Severus said. “I must report to Albus. There was a meeting of the Governors today I was supposed to attend.”

The thing just barely moved its hand in a dismissive gesture. “Return to me… as soon as possible. I must… have a full… body again.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Chapter Text

October 31, 1995

The New Prophet

First edition

News from the editor:

By Barnabus Cuff

To all our returning readers and new readers, I am happy to say that the New Prophet has opened its doors in Hogsmeade. Though it has been two months, I would like to say that the New Prophet has been able to find solid financial backing and will uphold its pledge for reliable, honest reporting. As such, the New Prophet has been able to obtain a Ministry Proclamation from Minister Bones that the New Prophet is guaranteed to remain an independent and sensor free paper. This is sealed with the Ministers and Wizengamot’s seal, making it unbreakable by a future minister without an unanimous vote it the Wizengamot to do so.

-o-

Hogwarts to Reopen by Christmas

By Kent Daily

The Board of Governors released a statement this week that they have been able to secure professors for all available positions and funding to increase the staff. As much as the governors would like to reopen the school as soon as possible after having to cancel the fall term, we at the New Prophet have been informed the next two months shall be required to review and update the curriculum to bring all courses up to ICW and MACUSA standards. The new Headmaster Rebeca Fortesque, daughter to Florean Fortescue, has said that she will be having a press conference on November twentieth to discuss the changes and invite all parent in December to have a preview.

Rebeca Fortesque has been a professor and Assistant Headmistress for Hoplitan School of Thaumatology in Greece for the last twelve years and had been at Durmstrang as a professor for five years previous. She brings with her experience on the ICW standards and new perspectives on teaching techniques that Hogwarts has been missing for many years.

As for the rest of the staff, the governors and the new Headmistress are being quiet on who is returning after the mass walkout of most of the professors that forced Hogwarts to close on August thirty-first. It is known that all departments will have at least two professors…

-o-

Gringotts announces next auction on November thirteenth

Notice per Wizengamot law WL1932.B, the Wealth Reclamation Act, and pursuant to the Goblin-Wizard Treaty of 1864, Gringotts notifies the public of an auction on November 13, 1995, starting at 10:00. All items for auction were legally seized per the above-mentioned treaty and law. As required, Gringotts lays claim to seventy percent of all sales to paying debts, twenty percent to Ministry of Magic for taxes and ten percent to Gringotts for services and fees. The following items will be up for auction. Starting bid is listed. If minimum bid is not met, seized items will be held for the next auction to be held some date in December.

Items for auction:

1. Wizengamot Seats: Malfoy, Selwyn, Yaxley. Each seat will start at 250,000 G.
2. Properties
   1. 15 Willow End, Emsworth, England. 32,500 G
   2. 11 Rovers Lane, Hogsmeade, Scotland 15,400 G
   3. 18 Rovers Lane, Hogsmeade, Scotland 8,900 G
   4. 25 Rovers Lane, Hogsmeade, Scotland 11,300 G

…

-o-

Wizengamot to meet on proposals to change creature laws. Goblins in an uproar.

By Sam Gamgee

Lady Agatha Cristy, newly inducted after purchasing a Wizengamot seat at an auction earlier this month, has put a proposal forward to reduce restrictions on many creatures, half-beings and full beings as classified under Wizengamot law and treaties.

Lord William Weasley, newly appointed to the Wizengamot to represent the goblins of Gringotts, has come out in opposition to the law, saying the current proposal would negate several treaties and agreements that could harm Gringotts. Chief among the complaints is the lifting of the ban of gnomes and dwarves on British soil without a permit, and to allow them to establish settlements and businesses.

Head Dirk Cresswell has backed Lord Weasley, reiterating his stance about preventing a new goblin rebellion. See page 8 and 9 about the actions of the Goblin Laison office and its attempts to keep the goblins from revolting…

-o-

Harry Potter found!

By Emery Board

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has released a statement that the search for Harry Potter was ended in late September when it was found that the Boy-Who-Lived had enrolled in a new school when Hogwarts closed. It is not known where he is, but there are rumours that he is now attending Grenobles in Switzerland.

The New Prophet will endeavour to confirm these rumours, but as of the time of printing, neither Grenobles nor the Swiss Ambassador had responded to requests from our reporters.

The New Prophet does not find the claims of the former Minister or Wizengamot members that the collapse of the Fudge government and Hogwarts is in anyway related to Mr Potter.

If he has gone to Grenobles, then the staff of the New Prophet wishes Mr Potter all the luck in his studies and looks forward to the date he returns to take up the Potter seat on the Wizengamot…

-o-

November 4, 1995

Altdorf, Switzerland

Emmaline Granger put the last box down on the table. The house was a wreck at the moment but give her a few weeks and it would be to her liking. Her husband, Dagmar, followed her in with two chairs.

“Still a few more items in the truck,” he told her.

“Can’t Sirius or Remus use magic to levitate them into the house when they get here?” she asked.

He grinned at her. “It was you that wanted to live in a normal neighbourhood.”

“Remind me why again?” she questioned her own sanity on the matter.

“I think it something about anonymity and it was easier to move without having to get a permit for normals to live inside Grenobles. That, and the house is a five-minute walk from the new office,” he reminded her.

“Oh, right,” she said, looking around the smaller kitchen. The house was smaller than the one they left in Surrey, but it had more character to it, and she liked that their car didn’t have move as much.

He came over and kissed her forehead. “Why don’t you dig out the pot and get some tea going?”

“That sounds like your best idea today,” she said playfully to him.

He gave her a cheeky grin. “You and my daughter aren’t the only brilliant ones around.”

She laughed and whacked his bottom. “Don’t get cheeky with me.”

“Or what?” he challenged. That had been one nice thing since Hermione had said she wanted to leave this summer. She loved her husband, but things had started to become stagnant between them. Since then, though, it felt more like it had years ago. With his challenge, she felt that familiar tingle that got her all hot.

“Or I’m going to christen this house with you before we even get our bed together,” she told him, moving a little closer.

“You don’t say?” he said, putting a hand on her waste and moving to trap her against the table.

When Sirius suddenly called out, “I bring food and alcohol!”, she let out a girly squeak, frantically trying to pull her shirt closed and button it as the man walked into the house. “Dagmar? Emmaline?”

“In the kitchen, just give a moment,” her husband yelled back a little gruffly. His still smouldering eyes had her all hot now. “Hold this thought long enough for me to get rid of them.”

“Don’t take too long,” she demanded, not enjoying it when he backed away. The loss of his body against hers had her growl in frustration.

He rubbed his hand through his hair. “Bloody dicks couldn’t give us ten more minutes?” he groused as he walked out of the kitchen.

She had just gotten herself back together when Dagmar, Sirius and Remus came in. Sirius held up a bag of food. When she smelled whatever it was, her stomach churned. Putting a hand to her mouth, she rushed off to the bathroom.

Sirius gave Dagmar a look. “Was it something I said?”

Dagmar was looking worriedly at the door his wife had disappeared behind. “Not that I know of. Let me just go check on her. The dishes are in one of these boxes,” he said distractedly.

Emmaline had just finished tossing up everything she thought she had eaten in the last two days and sat against the wall when a knock came at the door. “Emma, hun, are you alright?”

“I think so,” she called back. The door opened and he poked his head in. She was already busy though going through dates in her head.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he asked, moving into the room.

She closed her eyes. “Do you remember the last time I had one of my cranky weeks?” she asked. Dagmar always called the times she got her period her cranky weeks.

She saw a myriad of emotions go across his face. Her husband was almost a decade older than her. Where he was forty-seven, she was only thirty-eight. Hermione had come in her second year of medical school. If it hadn’t been for her parents, it would have been impossible for them both to finish.

“No, I don’t. Why?”

Her hand went over her stomach, more because she felt unsettled than anything else. “I don’t either, but I’m pretty sure it was the end of August. I’ve been feeling a little off the last few weeks, but I thought it was only from the stress of the move.”

“Should I go find a chemist and get a test?”

“I think so. Get whatever that was that Sirius brought out of the house too,” she told him.

“Sure, luv. If you are, we need to go see a doctor right away,” he said, sounding more concerned that happy. She had three other pregnancies after Hermione. All of them had ended prematurely.

“I’ll make some calls this afternoon.”

He nodded. “Luv?”

“Yes, Dagmar?”

“What if we see a wizard doctor? I know even having Hermione was hard,” he suggested.

She swallowed. Was she getting the implication that because Hermione had been a witch, that other three could have been magical and that was why she had had issues?

-oOo-

November 23, 1995

London, England

Looking around, he quickly made his way down the narrow, dank alley. He had a few items to get and a few things to sell. The issue was that Aurors now routinely patrolled this back alley, and he was a wanted man. As he passed a board of wanted criminals, he saw his picture on it. Ever since Dumbledore was let go and disappeared at the end of August, nothing had gone right for Severus Snape. He was the best potions master in the country. He should be brewing potions for high paying clients and taking on talented apprentices to do all the menial work.

Instead, he was playing goffer and working on brilliant new potions that no one would ever know about.

This was not the life he imagined when the Dark Lord had promised him fame. He would have had it too, except for Potter and his spawn.

As he made his way towards the apothecary after stopping at Goldfist’s Fingers, then Borgin and Burkes, to pawn off some jewellery he had ‘obtained’, there was a sudden pain on his arm. Snape hissed in pain while grabbing his forearm. Stumbling about, he managed to fall against a wall in an alcove. He undid the button on his wrist and pulled up his sleeve.

The cursed dark mark was writhing and boiling. The pain was getting intense, then the pitch-black mark started to fade. As it faded, the pain in his arm did as well. A bit of icy fear ran through him as there could only be one or two things this could mean. The Dark Lord was a wraith again… or could it be he could be dead?

Needing to find out, he forced himself to his feet and did a good impersonation of a drunken wobbled to the apparition point. When he landed outside of Mulciber’s house, he could tell something was wrong. There were bits and pieces over the lawn and part of a room on the upper floor had been blasted out.

“What did that fool do?” Snape snapped. He knew Mulciber was getting antsy, but to take on their Lord?

He rushed into the house. On the second floor, he rushed to the door to find Mulciber leaning against the wall opposite the door. His axe was lying next to him. He was covered in blood. “What did you do?”

Mulciber looked up at him with half glassy eyes. “He was a weakling. I don’t serve weakling,” the man said. Snape waved him off. Looking into the room, his heart sank. The bed where the Dark Lord had been was now just a hole in the floor. Most of the floor had been destroyed and the unmoving form of Pettigrew was still in the chair he had claimed his own for all these months. Snape pulled up his sleeve again. The mark was almost gone now. It was much fainter than it ever had been. Turning on Mulciber, he grabbed the man’s hair and pulled him up. He had maybe a few minutes. “Legillimens!”

When he pulled out of the almost dead man’s head, Snape stumbled back into the wall.

All this time…

All that effort and time…

All that suffering and regret…

He never had to let the Dark Lord or Dumbledore know about the Potters…

He put a hand over his mouth before sinking to the floor.

“The bloody fools,” he muttered.

Mulciber’s family had denied the Dark Lord three times to let the man join. Voldemort marked the man. He wasn’t sure if the Dark Mark meant equal, but it must have here, because the man had been born on July thirtieth.

Snape felt the last to the magic that had bound him to the Dark Lord dissipate. He looked at his now clear arm. As far as he knew, he was the only Death Eater that wasn’t in Azkaban now. He wasn’t marked. He had no master…

He had no master!

His oaths to Dumbledore only lasted until the Dark Lord had been destroyed. It no longer mattered if Dumbledore was dead or not!

Starting to laugh maniacally that he was finally free, he missed the pops of apparition of the Aurors coming to check the massive release of magic that had occurred…

-oOo-

The New Prophet

November 25, 1995

-o-

Trouble in Wolverhampton! The dead rise again!

By Sam Gamgee

Late last night, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement held a press conference to address rumours that had been circulating around the ministry all day. Minister Bones stood next to Director Scrimgeour as he detailed a disturbance that caused damage to an old family’s estate and blew out muggle windows for half a kilometre.

When the Aurors responded, they found disturbing evidence that could lead to several convictions being overturned, the vindication of Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore’s claimed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned and possible proof of innocence of the escaped Azkaban inmate, Sirius Black.

Director Scrimgeour gave photographic evidence that the long thought dead Order of Merlin recipient, Peter Pettigrew, was found at the partially destroyed residence of ministry worker Dennis Mulciber of the Department of Regulations and Leans. Both men were recently confirmed to be dead.

Director Scrimgeour also confirmed there had been a small duel as the Auror team found and restrained the wanted man, Severus Snape. It is unknown why the previous professor of Hogwarts would have been in the house, but there is some speculation he was the ringleader of a failed attempt to stabilize a homunculus that was also found on site.

A representative from the Unspeakables confirmed that the magical signature of the magical release and that on the homunculus belong to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and that the homunculus was months old. This was said to confirm the previous Chief Warlocks assertions that the dark lord had been resurrected. It is unknown how though…

-oOo-

December 25, 1995

Altdorf, Switzerland

Harry was pacing by the fireplace. “Why can’t I just go?” he called out to the two women that were taking too much time to get ready.

“Just wait,” Remus yelled down the stairs to him.

He huffed. He had been waiting for close to ten minutes and they were now two minutes late. “Why can’t I just go myself?” he called up. There should be no reason he shouldn’t be able to floo to Hermione’s house by himself. He did it all the time.

“We need to go together,” Sirius called back.

“Bloody hell,” he griped.

It was another few minutes before the two men came downstairs. Remus was holding Sirius’ hand. Ever since they had come out of the closet, it was almost worse than the way Hermione and him were at times, though he didn’t see it that way. He really cared for her, and he really liked looking in her eyes… and at her legs in those stocking Grenobles made her wear if she didn’t wear trousers that day.

When he saw their jumpers, he rolled his eyes at them. If they were going for the ugliest jumpers, then Harry figured they just won. The cheeky grin on Sirius’s face, and the grumpy one on Remus’s, had him knowing this had all been to annoy and embarrass him.

“Right, I’ll see you there,” Harry said. He turned, picked up the pile of presents he had, threw a pinch of floo powder into the fireplace and announce, “The Range.”

Sirius chuckled. “Do we show him the real prank or wait?”

“You better wait. He already looks annoyed,” Remus said before turning to kiss Sirius. “You owe me for this.”

Sirius’s grin was huge. “It’s Christmas. Whatever you want tonight.”

In the meantime, Harry was being assaulted by a girl with a mass of brown hair. She was hugging him tightly while jumping up and down. Not that he didn’t like how her body moved while doing that, but he was feeling jostled.

“Hermione, I can’t understand you. Slow down,” he told her.

“SiriusistakingustothelibraryofAlexandria!” she said again.

Harry looked over to the Grangers. Mr Granger was laughing as her mother was shaking her head.

“Care to translate?” Harry asked.

“Hermione just found out where she is going tomorrow for the rest of the hols,” Mrs Granger said.

“Oh, you’re going somewhere?” he said, feeling a little disappointed.

“Weareallgoing! THELIBRARYOFALEXANDRIA!” she said in one rapid breath.

“I still don’t understand,” he said over her shoulder.

The fire flared behind them. Mr Granger motioned towards whomever just walked out. “Ask them. They are the ones that arranged this.”

Harry turned. Hermione was still bouncing with joy. “What’s happening?”

“Oh, you told her? I wanted to see her reaction,” Sirius said a little crestfallen.

“You are seeing it now. She’s been hyper like this for the last half hour,” Mrs Granger said with a smirk.

“Just tell me,” Harry said annoyed as Remus walked out of the flames.

“They ruined the surprise, Remus,” Sirius whinged.

“I wanted to see that,” Remus complained as well.

“You are seeing it,” Mrs Granger repeated.

“Seeing what!” Harry yelled out.

“We are going to the Library of Alexandria!” Hermione finally calmed enough to say a sentence slow enough for him to understand.

He blinked for a moment before saying, “Brilliant. We’re going to Egypt?”

“Tomorrow. Remus and I will be taking you. Emmaline can’t travel right now so Dagmar is staying,” Sirius said, still looking put out that he didn’t get to see Hermione’s initial reaction.

“Wicked,” Harry said. When he turned back to Hermione, she grabbed his face and started to snog him.

“Go find a room,” Sirius told them as he moved past them into the sitting room.

“No closed doors,” Mr Granger warned.

“I’ll distract them for a few,” Remus whispered to them. Harry really wasn’t paying much attention to anything but his girlfriend’s tongue in his mouth.

When they finally joined the others, the hair that Harry had spent a half-hour taming was messier than normal and Hermione’s jumper was still half up her back. Sirius snickered at them as Mr Granger looked rather unhappy at them.

“Presents!”

“Don’t throw it!” Mrs Granger chastised Sirius. Harry caught the box tossed at him.

“It’s not like its breakable,” the man-child said.

“How would you know?” Remus asked suspiciously.

“Well, you know,” Sirius said knowingly before nicely handing a present to Mrs Granger.

When the room was full of wrapping paper, presents and happy people, Harry took his last present. He handed it to Hermione, saying, “This is for all of you. You should open it with your parents.”

She looked at him curiously. “Alright, but you already got me a necklace and two rare books.”

He smiled. “I know, but this is something that Sirius helped with.”

“This one was all you. I just lent you some books,” Sirius said.

“What is it, Harry?” Mrs Granger asked.

“Just open it,” he said. Hermione got up from sitting between his legs to join her parents on the couch. When she opened the package, they found a frame. Hermione looked at it for a moment as though confused what she was looking at.

“Harry, is this a family tree?” Mrs Granger asked.

“It’s Mr Granger’s side. I have all the information for you too, but I remember Hermione mentioning there was a Dagwood-Granger family that was good at potions. Hermione seems brilliant at them, and I know that families can develop an affinity for some magics, so, I thought I would try to find out,” Harry started to ramble.

“But I thought only goblin blood tests could prove this out?” Hermione said. Her eyes were shining as she looked up to him.

He shrugged. “I don’t think I’m very popular with the goblins right now. Sirius was able to hire a lawyer to find your father’s real parents. Your grandfather was a squib. I think the story is that Doogal Dagwood-Granger was hidden in the muggle world and given the last name Granger. Dagmar is your great-grandfather. I think that your father is the fifth in the family to have that name. So, technically, Hermione, you aren’t a Muggleborn. You would be a half-blood, as your father is probably a squib as well.”

“My da never told me,” Mr Granger said.

Hermione got up to jump into his lap. “Thank you,” she said, kissing his forehead. “Thank you.” She kissed his cheek. “Thank you.” She kissed his other cheek. When she moved to be just over his lips, she said a very soft, “Thank you.”

Harry wasn’t really paying attention when Sirius took out the folder of documents that would allow Hermione to claim the Dagwood-Granger vaults and properties as she was the last member of the family that was a full witch.

-oOo-

December 26, 1995

Schwanden, Switzerland

The portkey dropped them off on a snow blown platform. Even though he was used to Scottish winters, the cold on this mountain went right through his enchanted cloak. Hermione’s teeth were already chattering.

“I thought we were going to Zurich airport?” Harry asked towards Sirius.

The man had his own cloak wrapped tightly around him. “I just said we were flying,” Sirius told them.

“The door is this way,” Remus yelled over the wind.

Harry shielded his eyes as he put a hand on Hermione’s back to get her into where ever they were before him. He chanced a glance around. Besides the platform, there were a few small buildings sticking out of the mountainside. Off to the side, his eyes fell on a huge opening that had giant hanger doors. It had to be a hundred feet or more high.

He waited to enter the doors to ask, “Sirius, where are we?”

Hermione was shivering and he wrapped his arms around her.

Sirius gave him a cheeky grin. “Welcome to the workshops of Schwanden. The gnomes said we could ride to Egypt on the airship that is going to get all our stuff from there.”

Inside, Harry found they were in a small lobby. A particularly short gnome, he was maybe two and a half feet tall, was walking over to them from a desk. "Herr Black?"

"That's me. Are you Monsieur Goodwrench?" Sirius asked in French. They had found that all the gnomes understood French and German. Sirius was still learning German, but was a fluent French speaker.

The little man smiled, switching to French. Harry was happy for the translation medallion. He was not that good at French yet. "I am. And I assume this is everyone?"

"It is. My godson, Harry Potter. His girlfriend, Hermione Granger, and this handsome man is Remus Lupin," Sirius said with a grin.

Remus rolled his eyes at Sirius.

"It is good to meet you, Monsieur Potter and Lupin, and you, Mademoiselle Granger. If you want, Accountant Rosetwist arrange for you to arrive about an hour early so I can give you a tour of the shops. This is just our main airship facility, but we do have a large repair facility for our automatons here as well," Goodwrench said.

"We get to see the workshops?" Harry said excitedly.

The small gnome gave him a toothy grin. "We are always interested in anyone that shows talent and I was informed you did very well in arithmancy and runes in the fall term."

Hermione gave a broad smile. "Harry has almost caught up to where he should be for fifth year. He is hoping to get into the technomancy and arithmancy programs next year."

"Can we go see the shops?" Harry asked in German, not wanting to get into how proud Hermione had been with his work ethic this year. He found not having to fight for his life, or solve some mystery that could have him fighting for his life, made focussing on school easier. That, and he really wanted to get a mastery in Magi-engineering someday.

"Of course," the gnome answered in German.

Hermione took his hand and they were led through a door. They walked out onto a catwalk that over looked the largest cavern he had ever seen. It was supported by a lattice work of wrought iron. The craftsgnomes made it all look as beautiful as it was functional with flower and leaf designs curving out of the load bearing struts. His eyes were as large as saucers to see the cavern was a good kilometre across and two or three long. Opposite them were a dozen bays made to hold the huge airships that the gnomes used. Five of the bays were occupied and a sixth airship was in the main hangar.

A dozen automatons were moving around the airship. Some looked to be doing maintenance or other work, a few were loading crates. Hundreds of gnomes were all over the cavern doing various tasks. Harry didn't know what half of them were doing, but he wanted to find out.

"What are they doing over there?" Harry asked, looking at one of the airships in a bay. Half the silver lining on the outside had been removed and he could see dozens of gnomes and others working on the wrought iron ribbing. Harry found this extremely fascinating since wrought iron was supposed to be magically inert.

"About every ten years the airships need to have an overhaul. As you may or may not know, iron is not a magically conductive metal. Normally that would cause issues, but for most gnomish technologies, its actually useful," Goodwrench said as they made their way towards the floor.

Harry had a quick look at the few bays that held workshops next to the stairs. They had various machines used to cut or carve metals, some with wires, others obviously used for serving their automatons and others that he had no clue what they could be for.

"How could that be useful? Iron is so inert we are taught to never use it unless it’s been alloyed with something like silver or gold," Hermione said. "Wrought iron and steel don't have anything in them that would hold magic for long."

Goodwrench smiled at her. "And that is why we use it. We have learned to make certain alloys that are so conductive to magic that the iron helps to isolate the magic from others around it."

Hermione gasped. "You mean you use it so that you can use incompatible rune schemes and enchantments with each other?"

Harry looked at her intrigued. He hadn't thought about anything like that. Well, to be honest, he didn't even understand that theory until recently.

"I see that you are rather bright," Goodwrench commented.

Sirius chuckled. "You have no idea."

"Behave," Remus said with a grin of his own.

"Can we see it?" Hermione asked, just about bouncing with her excitement.

"I would love to see it. What type of alloys do you use? Is it anything like goblin silver?" Harry innocently asked.

Goodwrench made an angry sound. "Don't ever mention those loathsome, oath breaking scum in here. Foul, wretches silvgumm indeed! Another thing they stole for others that knew what they were doing."

Harry held up his hands. He had never seen a gnome so upset before. "I didn't mean to offend you. I am still learning. I won’t ever bring up the… ah… foul ones again."

Goodwrench nodded. "Others are not as accepting as I am. I know those working in the bank have to learn to deal with the scum, but you will never see one in one of our forges or workshops."

"Harry didn't mean any offense. What type of alloys do you use?" Hermione said, trying to get the conversation back on track. They were now weaving their way around the thick mooring cables that were attached to steam driven carts that rode on rails imbedded into the floor. There were eight on each side of the seven-hundred foot long airship.

"Mithril, argenquin and aurumil," Goodwrench said. Harry looked up and around at the airship as they walked under it. He had yet to be inside one, or even be this close. Sirius was silently laughing along with Remus as Harry looked like a kid in a toy shop.

"I've never heard of those," Hermione said as he looked around.

"They are not secrets, but not something we openly talk about, but since Herr Potter is has expressed an interest, I was asked to go into more detail," Goodwrench told her. "Mithril is an alloy, or more like an amalgam, with the base materials being titanium and palladium. Very light and stronger than steal when treated correctly. It is a good metal for runes that deal with high magical potential. Argenguin is an amalgam made from silver. A variant of that is what the cretins calls goblin silver, or silvgumm. When treated in the proper way, it can be very strong. Not as good as steal, but it holds enchantments very well and can absorb magics that make it stronger. Of course, strength is in the intent of its original use."

"That's why silvgumm weapons and armour are known to absorb things that make them better weapons and armour," Hermione commented.

Goodwrench made a sour face. "Yes. But those things only care about war and treasure, so they corrupt our craft. Now, aurumil is an amalgam of gold. Highly magically conductive, highly enchantable, highly malleable, but incapable of taking on much strength. It is the root of all our rune crafting, but because of its highly magically conductive nature, we need to use something like wrought iron to isolate its magic. Argenquin is more suitable to everyday use, while mithril is used when we can't use isolating materials. It is very expensive, so not used often."

Harry was soaking all this in. They walked over to a lift that went up to the work area on the airship.

"Wicked," Harry said with some wonder as they rose to be level with the work platforms. A few automatons were moving about with other workers. Craftsmen and enchanters were working on removed ribs up and down the length of the airship. The automatons were moving completed ribs back into place while removing others. He caught a few using blowtorches to work on sections while other crews riveted sections back on. One automaton was waiting outside what looked to be a huge oven.

Goodwrench smiled to see his reaction. "If you want, I can show you some of what we do, then I will take you down and get you settled into your staterooms. I do hope you won't mind, but we are scheduled to make a stop in Italy and Morocco before we move onto Egypt, so it will take an extra day to get there."

Harry wasn't really paying attention. He had already drifted towards a crew peeling off the old runes on a rib. The silver and gold went into buckets while a second crew was working on a rib behind the first. The gnome was laying down new runes. He could feel the gnomes magic working as he chanted something over the newly placed runes. "I want to learn all of this," he said to Hermione.

She took his hand. "You can do anything you want, Harry."

-oOo-

April 16, 1996

Somewhere under a hill…

He pulled the fraying robes onto his thinning shoulders. It was warm down here, but his body wasn’t built for this and was starting to show its age. Leaning against the shaft of the pick, he was breathing hard.

After months of being in a place where there was never fresh air or sun, he had had time to determine where all his plans had gone wrong. Looking back, nothing had ever gone to plan when he dealt with the Potters. The family had the Luck of the Irish, as Lily had said one time.

First there had been Cadmus Potter, the great-grandfather to Harry. Albus had set his sights on the Potter family to help bring the Wizarding world into the utopia that Gellert and him had envisioned all those years ago. The Potters were a powerful, neutral family that garnered respect on both sides of the aisle, were very adept in business and led an alliance of houses that could see any of his plans succeed in the Wizengamot. He spent two decades cultivating a relationship with the then young lord, bringing him around to his way of thinking.

Albus thought he had finally had the man under his thrall when a young Fleamont Potter had started to attend Hogwarts. How wrong he had been as the man single handedly sank a key legislative push to allow Muggleborn to be separated from their families. Albus thought this key to allow for full integration and control. The Muggleborn were bringing in odd ideas, and if they could be separated from their parents the first time they came to the attention of the Ministry, then they could be ingrained into the wizarding world before they were old enough to be set in their ways.

That had him doing what he hated. Cadmus had to go. He was sent out on a mission early in Gellert’s rise to power and never came back. Albus hated to spill such old magical blood, but it was necessary. Of course, the man was skilled and his team more powerful than Albus liked. The mission set Gellert back almost a decade in his rise. Gellert changed his tactics and integrated his plans into the muggles brewing conflict. It made the Great Wizard war far more destructive than Gellert or him had ever thought. Perhaps if he had supported Cadmus Potter in his mission to stop Gellert, then the world may not have been plunged into the darkness that led to the Great Wizarding War, or the muggles great war of the nineteen forties.

During that war, like in many conflicts, the Potters took a pivotal lead for those opposing Gellert. Many of them fell, leaving only Fleamont and his brother alive by the time it was done. Albus may have contributed to some of their losses as he was still angry at Cadmus and didn’t want Gellert dead, which was something the Potters had almost achieved a handful of times.

He thought his plans were finally on track when the young Fleamont Potter was forced to take the reins of the family when his brother, Charlus, had suffered a bout of spattergroit that had left the man fallow and unable to walk again.

Fleamont was willing to donate to the causes that Albus supported. They had fought side by side and the man looked to Albus as somewhat of a general. He was able to foster this more in Fleamont’s son, James. During the Blood wars of the seventies, the Potters stood by his side, but they had wanted to use much harsher tactics than Albus was willing too. The wizards of Europe were still recovering from the Great Wizarding War, so he did not want to spill more blood than necessary. Fleamont and his allies were willing to fight spell for spell on the destructive side of things. He regretted having to arrange for him and his wife to be exposed to dragon pox, but it had been necessary.

It had all been necessary for the Greater Good. Everything he had done since Arianna’s death had been for the Greater Good. Separating the magical world from the muggles to make a perfect Magical world had been his goal since he was eighteen.

Once James was free of any other influence, he quickly looked up to Albus as a second father and was willing to give and do anything asked of him. It was the first time that Albus had all the resources he needed to finally enact his plans. If he had only known that less than four years into his plans he would have to sacrifice the Potters, he would have pressed for James to give him access to all the Potter vaults and accounts. He was young and would need a steward, you know.

Unfortunately, he had been severely hampered in his ability to access what he needed after James died, but he had full control over the Potter heir, could finally control the voting bloc of the Great Alliance and could get into some of the vaults that had invaluable heirlooms and books that could finally see his plans succeed.

And for a decade, things all went his way.

That was until that night that Harry saved an insignificant Muggleborn from a troll. He knew that a bond had been formed that night. A bond that he could not influence. One that saw his manipulations and plans waylaid more often than succeed. He couldn’t tell if it was the Potter luck or the way that insufferable girl influenced the boy.

Either way, it all led to his current predicament.

A whip cracked and he hissed in pain as a new line of burning pain lanced over his shoulder. The goblin said something in their guttural language. Albus was wise enough to get the meaning and moved to handle the pick again. He knew if he didn’t fill his cart, he wouldn’t be given a full meal for dinner, and he had suffered many nights like that so far.

“I swear I will get revenge on any Potter that is left,” Albus muttered to himself as he started to pick away at the seam of coal he had been set to work on. A coughing fit followed.

“You really should wear a mask,” a dirty man said from next to him.

Albus glared at him. He didn’t need to wear something so ugly in the mines. “I am fine, thank you.”

The man shrugged before getting back to his own seam of coal. His cart was already close to full. If you filled two carts in a day, then you could get more food. If he could only use his wand, then he could fill a dozen carts in an hour.

He started to daydream about eating his fill again. When his dirty and tattered robes fell off his shoulder, he put them back onto his thinning frame. Coughing again, he didn’t think about the black dust floating in the air.

Albus would get his revenge on Potter. He was here, hungry and beaten, because the boy said he stole. James had told him he could take what he wanted. Why would he need a contract to prove that to the goblins? Wasn’t a wizarding oath good enough?

The sting of the whip and his already scabbed back opening again brought him to his knees with the pain. “I said work, wizard. You can dream when you sleep.”

Albus snarled at the goblin as he got up. Potter wouldn't be the only one paying. He would see the entire goblin race annihilated. He only had nine more years to go.

He coughed.

Chapter Text

June 27, 1998

Grenobles, Switzerland

Harry held Hermione's hand as they listened to the last remarks from the headmaster. "…I know that you will all go out and achieve great things, for anyone that has attended Grenobles has always achieved what they set their minds too."

Harry clapped loudly, along with the nineteen others that were graduating with them and all their families. Harry took back his girlfriend's hand and kissed the back of it. "Congratulations, luv," he said.

Hermione moved and hugged him. "We did it!"

Harry laughed at her. He wrapped an arm over her shoulder to weave through the crowd to find Sirius, Remus and Hermione's parents. Along the way they shared hugs and handshakes with friends they had made the last few years. It was a squealing child that had Hermione crouching down and holding her arms open. The small girl with wildly frizzy hair ran into her arms. "Hermy," the girl said.

"Annabelle," Hermione said happily before blowing a raspberry on her sister's cheek. The almost two-year-old laughed and squealed happily.

Harry reached a hand out to Mr Granger. "Congratulations, Harry."

"Thank you, Dagmar. Emmaline," he said gratefully.

"Oh, come here for a hug," she told him. Hermione had picked up her sister and joined the group. Sirius and Remus greeted him with handshakes and one arm hugs.

While they were all talking and people were leaving, the headmaster came up to them. "Headmaster Kenagy. How are you?"

"Very good, Herr Potter. I'm trying to make sure I talk to all the graduates before they leave. Frau Granger, I wanted to say that me and my staff have been extremely impressed with you and Herr Potter," the man said.

Hermione inclined her head as her sister was still trying to get her attention. "Thank you, headmaster. It's been a pleasure to be here."

"I was hoping you felt that way. Traditionally the staff doesn't meet to decide on potential Mastery students until the end of July, but we have been so impressed with both of you that I would like to personally give you these letters," the headmaster said.

He handed the letters to them. Hermione immediately started to open hers. Harry looked at the envelope for a moment before looking back up to the headmaster. "I really am appreciative of this, Headmaster Kenagy, but I have accepted a Mastery program with the gnomes in magi-engineering."

The man nodded, looking a little grave. "I know that Frau Rocheford had said you were applying. I had hoped we would get you soon enough. And you, Frau Granger?"

Emmaline took Annabelle so Hermione could read her letter. After a moment, she said, "I need a week or two to consider. I have been offered a position in the ministry and for a master’s program at Soble in Zurich."

The man nodded. "I knew that you both would go onto great things. Soble is a fine school for mastery students. May I ask what you would be studying?"

"Magical Law, both domestically and internationally," she told him.

"Ah, yes. Our many discussions on house elf and being rights. If you do decide to accept the mastery in Charms with Herr Esperanza, then we will be happy to have you back in the fall. If not, then I know you will do Grenobles proud."

"Thank you, headmaster," she said.

With a farewell, he moved off to see who else was left.

"Are you really going to turn down a mastery here?" Sirius asked him.

Harry shrugged. "I love it here, but do you know how hard it is to get a freeman Mastery position without signing a ten-year contract with the gnomes?"

"I can only imagine. Come on, pup. We have cake and ice cream at home," Sirius told them.

"Eye cream!" Annabelle proclaimed.

"Yes, sweety. Ice cream," Emmaline said.

-oOo-

August 3, 1998

Toffen, Switzerland

Harry was following Master Craftsman Hammerfoot as he was led from the offices of the workshops towards the workshops themselves. For the last two and a half days he and three others had been sitting in conference and classrooms as they went over all the safety precautions, new employee introductions, the requirements for the mastery program they were in, assigned to the Master Craftsman that would be overlooking their training and the basics of gnomish engineering. He was a little disappointed that they had three months of classes before they would be allowed into the workshops to get their hands dirty, but he had managed to convince Master Hammerfoot to take him for a tour.

The rather serious gnome looked excited for once as he led Harry deeper into the mountain. He had been to Schwanden a few times in the last few years to see the airship facility and ride on them for different business purposes. Each time had only whetted his appetite more to become a Master Magi-engineer, and now he was in the heart of the gnomish workshops to learn.

"Do not touch anything. You are not certified," Master Hammerfoot reminded him for the fifth time.

"Yes, Master Hammerfoot," Harry replied. They came to a large, heavy set of wooden doors that Harry could see aurumil runes in. If he was reading them correctly, they would only allow authorized people through, reinforced the doors and make them lighter.

Master Hammerfoot regarded him for a second. Whatever he saw must have been what he wanted too because he gave a little nod. When he opened the door, Harry grinned to see a large cavern. It was full of noises. Stepping into the cavern, it was full of machines, milling centres, workshops with automatons and other inventions. His eyes took it all in.

"Our main journeymen workshops. This will be where you will be assigned a workspace once you pass the basic magi-engineering tests. Over there you will see the lathes, milling machines and other equipment needed for making parts. The wire bonding and rune crafting cells are that way. In the far corner is the steam generator," Master Hammerfoot pointed out.

"Is that the superheated steam generators?" Harry asked, nodding to a cell full of strange spherical devises around a larger one that looked like a single piston steam engine. He knew the gnomes had been able to make some technomancy steam engine that would generate enough steam to power an automaton for days without refuelling or watering. It was a marvel that he yearned to know about. Only those trained by the gnomes ever learned about it but were sworn to secrecy. He would be taking his own oaths once he passed the apprentice tests.

"I cannot say. Perhaps if you are good enough you will find out. Now, I'm going to introduce you to a few of the top candidates. If you can pass the level one exams next week, you may be able to start as a technician for one of the mastery track candidates," Master Hammerfoot informed him.

Harry's eyes widened. "Uhm, Master Hammerfoot, I don't know of any level one exam."

The gnome smiled at him. "As a free-contract apprentice, there are other options. I also looked at your NEWT scores and talked with Master Wedman. He highly recommended you."

Master Wedman was the half-gnomish professor that headed up the technomancy program at Grenobles. Harry had grown close to the man in his three years at the school. "I am pleased he thinks so highly of me. I will have to send him a note of thanks."

"Take him out for a drink. A mead or wine ale will be better to talk with him. Most apprentices must pass the level three exams to start. With the backing of a Master Craftsman, you can start earlier. Now, this over here is Apprentice Natalie Oberbeck. Apprentice Oberbeck, if you have a moment, I have someone that might be interested in being a technician for a few months," Master Hammerfoot said to a rather stocky blonde that was holding a spanner the size of Harry's arm. She was looking at an automaton that looked to be built to lift several tons. It was much beefier than he was used to seeing.

"Just a minute," she said as she watched a gage. The pressure continued to rise. When there was a pinging sound, she swore in a language he didn't recognize before moving quickly to cut off the steam supply and bleed the line. After what was obviously another string of swears, she turned to them. "I just can't get it! I'm sure I have the proper rune scheme, but the steam requirements keep overpowering them."

"What are you using?" Master Hammerfoot asked, moving over as she started to remove the protective cowl around the pistons and mechanics on the leg.

"I tried using argenquin, but it's not stable enough for the heat generated and using a wrought iron casing isn't strong enough, so I can't use aurumil," she said. When she took the cowl off, it was obvious that the control mechanism to the piston was destroyed, and the piston was still hissing out steam. "Damn it! That takes twelve hours to machine."

The master craftsman started to look at the fine line of runes on the piston and other mechanics. "Apprentice Potter, can you get me the reticulated callipers and reticulated spanner, size four."

Harry moved over to the work bench and quickly found the tools. Oberbeck was looking at him. Master Hammerfoot pointed to the release valve. "Check to see that is calibrated properly and then set it to eight-hundred pascals."

"Isn't that a little low?" Oberbeck asked. "And the new kid knows what he's doing? That will take three days to build a new valve assembly if he messes it up."

Harry didn't bother to answer her, just got to work the way Master Wedman had taught him. Ten minutes later he was done, and Master Hammerfoot was going over the rune scheme with the blonde.

She nodded before looking towards him. "If you damaged that you will be making me a new one."

Harry shrugged. "It's easy enough, though I don't understand why you are using a modification to the model eight. Wouldn't it have been better to use a Ellenstein number four? That has a secondary release valve that you can set to go off if the inlet has issues as well," Harry said.

"That wouldn't work," Oberbeck stated. "You would have to have a tertiary bleed to the valve and the number fours aren't rated high enough for what I need."

Master Hammerfoot was regarding them as they got into a conversation about the steam pressure required to lift the loads she wanted finally ending in Harry suggesting using a four-piston design of lower capacity each that would add up to the higher capacity instead of a single cylinder. She was huffy as a green horn giving her the advice before Master Hammerfoot offered to introduce him to another apprentice. As they walked away, he said, "You are right."

"About what, Master Hammerfoot?" Harry asked.

"It is more complicated, and can lead to higher maintenance, but using a system that distributes the load over more pistons is usually better. It adds redundancy should something fail. It allows for a design load limit that is higher than desired while maintaining a safety margin. It also will support the rune scheme she is trying, but at a lower pressure. I have been trying to lead her that way for months, but she is determined to use a single master piston. If she gets it to work, then I will award her a mastery. If not, then another year or two will season her more," Master Hammerfoot said.

Harry looked back. He hadn't fully thought of all those benefits, but he could see them. He was thinking of the lower pressure requirement and the fact you could use a simpler valve system.

"Now, over here is Apprentice Eric Strauss. Apprentice Strauss, this is Apprentice Harry Potter," Hammerfoot introduced. Harry found he liked the lanky dark hair man right away and soon was going over a rune scheme to make a better dishwasher. He had never thought something so innocuous could be so complicated when you tried to use magic to do what muggle technology did. But, as he had found out at Grenobles, you can shield muggle electronics from magic, but you could not make magic and electronics work together. Thus, if you wanted something magical, you had to create it.

-oOo-

December 25, 2000

New Zealand

The cruise ship was swaying slightly as it left Auckland, New Zealand to head towards Sydney, Australia. For a few years now Hermione's parents had been talking about taking a cruise and Harry and Sirius had surprised them all with a cruise over Christmas.

As the ship left the port, Harry was looking at his beautiful girl. For the last five years he had been dating her and felt like he wanted this to go for the rest of his life. She was standing before the mirror and putting on some ruby earrings he had gotten her last Christmas. She smiled when she saw him watching her from the door that separated the bedroom from the sitting room in the suite they had.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she questioned.

"I can't look at a sexy woman?" he said with a cheeky smile.

She shook her head. "We have a dinner with the captain tonight. You can peel me out of this dress later."

The classy burgundy dress hugged her body, and he had a feeling peeling her out was the only way to get her out. It was a thought he fully enjoyed. She shook her head again. "I mean it. Later."

"Fine," he grumbled.

She walked over to him, put a hand on his face and leaned in to give him a gentle kiss.

In the hallway, they met her parents and his godfather. Her sister was being watched over in the day care tonight so they could all go to this dinner. Harry raised a questioning eyebrow to ask where Moony was, and Sirius just nodded. The action started a gurgling in his stomach. He thought he had put this nervousness to rest last night, but it came back. Her father gave him a wink as they walked by.

Hermione leaned into him. "Am I going to like whatever you are planning, or will I need to hex Sirius later?"

"You'll like it," he said far more confidently than he felt.

"I better, or you'll be on the couch," she warned.

If this goes wrong, I'll be over the side, he thought to himself.

The evening was rather enjoyable as they joined two other couples at the captain's table in the centre of the large two-story restaurant at the stern of the ship. It was when desert was coming out that the butterflies in him really started. Hermione was talking with the captain about how mariners used to navigate by the stars when the slice of chocolate cake was put down before Hermione.

Everyone was looking expectantly at them as she took up her fork.

Harry had the insane notion she was going to eat the cake before even looking at it. He was starting to panic when the fork descended towards the cake… then it stopped… he swore his heart did at the same time.

She had stopped talking.

He licked his dry lips.

"Harry? Is that…?" she trailed off.

He pushed his chair back to get down on one knee. Her eyes drifted to him as he took her hand. "Uhm, Hermione Granger. You have been my best friend, my girlfriend and my better half since we first met at eleven. I couldn't imagine ever finding anyone that fills those roles better than you. You are beautiful, smart and unafraid to tell me when I'm being mental."

"Like right now?" she said as her eyes were brimming with tears.

Sirius and her mother laughed.

He gave a nervous smile. "Like right now," he agreed. He swallowed before forging on. "As much as I have loved dating you that last five and a half years, I was rather hoping you might make this a more permanent thing."

She laughed at him. "More permanent?" she said in her high-pitched voice she used when nervous or flustered.

"More permanent. Like, maybe becoming my wife?"

Her free hand went to her mouth. She was speechless. He could accept her being quiet for a moment, but as it dragged on, he fidgeted a little. "Hermione, just say yes," her mum said under her breath.

Hermione's head suddenly started to vigorously nod. "Yes. YES!" she said rather loudly before throwing herself at him. He had to use the chair to steady them. People around them started to clap and cling silverware off their glasses. Hermione crashed her lips into his.

When he helped her back into her chair, Sirius said, "Well, let’s see what you got her."

"You are such a woman," Harry said back playfully.

"Well, someone has to be the man in this relationship," Remus smoothly stated.

"I am not a woman," Sirius huffed.

"Ignore them. Let's see the ring. Oh my God, Hermione," her mother said as she took in the white gold ring with a four-karat diamond and rubies around it. Hermione's eyes were as large as her mothers.

"This is too much," Hermione said.

"It was my grandmothers. I just had the gems reset," Harry told her.

Hermione had to wipe at a tear. "I love it, Harry. I love you."

"I hope that I won't get hexed tonight," Sirius snarkily said.

"You're safe for tonight," Hermione said, still looking at the ring.

"Congratulations," the captain said. "If you would like me to marry you, we can do that tonight."

Hermione looked up, sounding slightly panicked. "So soon?'

Harry had to laugh at her deer in the headlights look. It was as much out of nervousness as it was hilarity. "I hadn't thought that quick, but if you want."

Everyone looked at Hermione for a few before she said, "I want to get married back in England at the church we used to go to."

"Anything you want, luv," Harry said. His smile was for his new fiancé, and the fact he still had a little more time before he had to say yes. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He knew he would, but something felt far more final about it now Hermione had said yes.

-oOo-

June 22, 2002

London, England

Diagon Alley was busy today. Over the last few years, business and foot traffic had grown, as did the number of witches and wizards, not to mention others. Cornelius had to silently keep his comments to himself as another obviously Muggleborn witch entered the store. She was in her early twenties with a noticeably young child on her hip. The muggle trousers and knit sweater would have been scorned at not long ago. Now it was scorned at to scorn them.

He pushed his broom around to pick up the ingredients he had dropped on the floor while filling the last order. Roland Nelson came out of the back room when the bell had run on the door. "Make sure you weigh that up," the man told him.

Cornelius didn't say a word. He often lost a galleon or two a week for what he thought was normal business when Roland took out the cost of the wasted potions ingredients. He had been the Minister of Magic! Now he was a store clerk that barely made enough to pay for the single room apartment he had and enough food to keep his reduced frame satisfied. The only reason he had this job instead of being with some of the beggars in Knockturn Alley that used to be his allies was because of his great niece.

"Hello, Mrs Creevey. Is this little Lizzy?"

"Good morning, Mr Nelson. This is," the woman said with a smile.

"She is getting so big. You are a cute one, with your mum's eyes," he said. The small girl hid her face in the woman's jumper. Cornelius rolled his eyes as he turned. Being so nice to people and playing with babies should only be done when a politician was trying to win something. "What can I do for you today?"

"I just came to pick up my husband's order for his shop," she said.

"Of course. Cornelius, can you get the Creevey order from the back room?" his great-niece’s father-in-law asked.

Cornelius nodded. He hated being an errand boy for people, but it was the first job he had found in over a year and one where he wasn't jeered at by most of the clientele, as most seemed to be Muggleborn or muggle raised and didn’t seem to recognize him. He really had no clue there had been so many, or that most had gone to other schools and only returned after Bones had become Minister.

When he came back out with the large box, his boss was having an animated conversation with the witch. "Business is doing very well," she was saying.

"I can imagine. I see many going into his shop and he's made quite a name for himself. I see his photographs in the New Prophet and internationally weekly," Roland replied.

"Yes. He is doing quite well," she said with a smile. "I will warn you now, it might get busy in the alley later today."

"Why would that be?" the man asked with excitement.

"There will be a few high-profile clients coming in. Actually, there they are now," she said, looking out the window.

Cornelius followed her gaze. Walking up the alley in the plum-coloured robes of a Wizengamot member ready to enter the chambers was a man of slightly less than average height. He had messy black hair that seemed familiar. Next to him was a strikingly attractive woman with curly brown hair. She was in a very strange looking Muggle woman's suit. Behind them was another man in plum-coloured robes walking besides a man with sandy coloured hair.

"Oh, is that Lord…"

“Potter!" Cornelius spat when he recognized the man.

That got the woman's and his boss’s attention. The look of hatred on Cornelius face was nothing compared to the seething rage that had built up to a roiling boil in him the last seven years. It had been all Potter's fault that he was now a simple clerk when he should have retired in comfort.

All his woes came down to Potter.

What he couldn't understand was what Potter was doing here? He had left the country and not returned.

Potter said something to the woman next to him and she nodded in a very business-like manner. As they walked by, Cornelius followed them with his eyes.

"Yes, I heard that Lord Potter and Black have come back for one Wizengamot meet. Something about needing the remaining members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight," Roland said, keeping a wary eye on Cornelius, who didn't notice.

"From what Colin says, they are going to change the Wizarding Compact. I'm not totally sure what that is, but it’s important to help with the new laws," she said.

"They are going to change the compact?" Cornelius asked.

"So, my husband says. Do you know what that is?" the woman asked.

"It's the magical bindings that established the ministry, and the Wizards' Council before that. Why in Merlin's name would they be changing that?" he asked.

"Haven't you heard? It's been all over the New Prophet and the Quibbler for months," Roland said.

Cornelius frowned. He really didn't have the extra funds to afford a paper daily. "No, I haven't."

"Well, the laws passed in the last winter session will disband all hereditary seats and make a fifty-one-seat parliament that is voted on every two years," Roland said.

Cornelius swallowed. "That is preposterous. The Wizengamot seats have been hereditary since the founding of the Wizards Council."

"And that got us to such a good spot, didn't it?" Roland shot back.

It was then that Cornelius realized who else had been with Potter. "That was Black! Sirius Black! How is he not in Azkaban?"

Roland gave the man a concerned look. "Lord Black was pardoned, years ago."

Cornelius remembered something like that, but… "Pardoned?"

"Well, he never did it to begin with, or even got a trial," the woman said. The girl in her arms was starting to fuss. "I need to get Lizzy and the supplies back to the shoppe. How much do I owe you?"

"Just tell your husband to square up with me at the end of the month, like usual."

She gave him a smile and took out her wand. Cornelius didn't really pay much attention as she levitated the box out of the store.

His boss turned back to him. "Are you alright, Cornelius?"

His mouth moved a few times. After a moment he said, "Potter destroyed everything and Black is a murderer. How can you be so unconcerned?"

Roland looked at him oddly for a moment. "Cornelius, I think you need to read the news more or listen to the wireless. Lord Black has been investing back into England. He's the backer of this shoppe. Lord Potter is the founder of a new firm in Switzerland that makes some of those Muggle tellies and other inventions that Weiscroft's sells down the alley."

Cornelius looked at his boss blankly. "That is Potter?"

"There was a large article on it a few months ago."

"And it's Potter that is going to destroy the Wizarding Compact? What about all those families on the Wizengamot?" Cornelius blustered. He had hoped that some point his old allies would be able to recover and save him from this hell he was now in.

"The new compact passed almost unanimously. Over the next six years they will all step down or go for election. A third of the current Wizengamot will be replaced every two years," Roland said.

His mouth moved like a fish.

"Are you feeling well? You look a little pale," Roland said.

"I'm… I'm… I don't know," he said. He couldn't understand why anyone would so willingly give up their power like that. It didn't make sense.

"Why don't you take the rest of the day off. You really don't look well right now."

A short bit later, Cornelius was walking down the alley towards his flat. As he looked around, he felt like he was really looking at things for the first time in years. The Daily Prophet had been replaced with a new store that sold all sorts of Muggle looking things. He had heard talk about them, but they were wizards. Why would they need anything like a… what did Roland call it? A fellie?

As he investigated the window, his eyes caught the movement on a mirror, but it wasn't his reflection. Instead, he was watching people flying on a broom. It took him a moment to realize he was watching a quidditch match. His mouth fell open. He just stood there watching it for a while until someone said, "I had the same reaction when this store opened two years ago. It's amazing what Muggles have figured out."

Cornelius turned to a tall and broad blonde man. "Yes, amazing," he said, never having heard Muggles so openly praised in the heart of the Wizarding world. Had he been that under a rock the last few years?

"Did you catch the score?"

"Uhm, the score?"

"Yeah. Right there. At the bottom of the screen. Bloody hell! The Cannons have been a menace the last few years. I never thought I would see Portree losing to them," the man said. "Well, I have to get going."

As the man walked away, Cornelius wasn't sure if he was more bothered that the man didn't recognize him or praising the Muggles so highly. He turned to see the quidditch match again. It was almost like being at the match.

"And Potter did this?" he said to himself.

Things had changed so much that Cornelius wasn't sure what his world was anymore.

-oOo-

December 25, 2008

Altdorf, Switzerland

"Is dada awake?" a young girl whispered.

Harry felt the weight of someone small climbing onto the bed. He was too tired to really move but knew this would happen. It had been the same for the last few years now. A small finger touched his eyelid and pulled it down. He glared at the messy raven hair of a six-year-old girl. Her chocolate brown eyes were wide awake for the early morning. Merlin, it was still dark out!

"He's still sleeping, Lena," she whispered back. His eldest wasn't as quiet as she thought she was being.

"Mama?"

The raven hair girl started to climb over him. As she did, Harry rolled over. She squeaked as his arm caught her, pinning her to the bed. "ELAINA, help!"

The smaller four-year-old was suddenly climbing up the side of the bed. "Lena!" she yelled. If Harry had thought he might get another hour or two of sleep, he had been sadly mistaken. His younger daughter jumped on him, earning an 'oomph' from him.

Lena was trying to squirm out of his grasp as Elaina jumped on him again. "Let her go!"

"Why you little," Harry exclaimed. His arm came up and grabbed the smaller girl. She squealed as he pulled her down. Lena tried to use that to escape, but his other arm trapped her. Both girls started to laugh and scream.

Hermione groaned from next to him. "Do you have to do this so early?"

"I would have kept sleeping if they let me," Harry said. His fingers stopped and his daughters were breathing heavily. Lena recovered first.

"It's time to get up, dada! There are presents," she said rather loudly.

"I want to open presents," Elaina yelled back.

Harry closed his eyes. "It's too early. Time to sleep."

"NO!" they both yelled.

Hermione rolled over and put her pillow over her head. "I'm not getting up until there is tea or coffee."

"Father Christmas came. You must get up," Lena said, squirming out of his arm to pull on Hermione's. "Mama, time to get up!"

"It's not Christmas. It's too early," Harry said.

Elaina got up and flopped on his chest. He opened his eyes to find her face inches from his. Her eyes were so much like his own. "There are presents under the tree, dada! Time to get up!"

It was the energy that only small children could have on Christmas morning. Harry smiled at her, then kissed her nose. The small frizzy haired brunette giggled. "I suppose we should go see if there are presents under the tree?"

"There are, dada. We saw them. Big ones and small ones. I saw four with my name on them," Lena said excitedly.

"I saw my name too," his four-year-old added.

"Coffee, Harry. I need coffee," Hermione told him.

Harry huffed. "Fine. I'm up. It's only four-thirty!" he exclaimed when he looked over to get his glasses.

"It's Christmas!" both his girls exclaimed.

"I blame you," Hermione told him.

Harry moved to get up and both girls jumped out of bed. "I don't get up at four-thirty," he grumbled to his wife.

"No, but you get all excitable like that," she said.

Harry rolled over to kiss her shoulder. "I'll get a pot going. Get up if you don't want them jumping on you too."

Hermione groaned and snuggled into the blankets.

Harry rubbed at his eyes as he got up. In the hallway were pictures of Hermione and him. Just outside their door Harry was spinning her around on a beach at sunset. That had been in New Zealand two days after he had proposed eight years ago today. He considered that his fourth happiest day of his life.

Another had her in a white dress and him in a tuxedo. They stood before a stone church in Godric's Hollow. When Hermione had found out that his parents had been married there, besides being buried, she had wanted to be married their too. Harry agreed. That had been July twentieth, two-thousand and two. His third happiest day of his life.

Pictures of his daughters and the rest of his family were scattered around the wall and the stairs. One of him holding Lena the day she had been born was next to the one when Elaina had been born. It had taken him years to figure out how he felt about the beautiful, curly hair brunette that he slept next to every night. He wasn't sure he understood what love was until almost the time they graduated from Grenoble. It had taken time for him to understand his feelings for Hermione. The second he had seen Lena and Elaina, it was instantaneous. He knew he loved them and would do anything for them. Those were the happiest days of his life.

To have two excited girls bouncing around the sitting room trying to determine what presents were who’s had a smile come to his face. "Don't touch anything yet."

"Can I open just one?" Lena pleaded.

"Wait for your mama," he told them. In the kitchen he put a pot on and then moved to get the coffee machine working. As much as Harry loved tea, he figured Hermione would need the coffee today. He silently laughed to himself a few minutes later when their daughters started to pester Hermione to open presents.

By the time he walked out into the sitting room with her cup of coffee, the girls had already sorted out their piles. Lena had helped Elaina, but for a four-year-old she had done very well. He sat with his cup of tea, enjoying the chaos of Christmas morning with the three most important girls in his life.

It was a few hours later, when the sun was up, that a handsome Eurasian owl tapped on the window while he was making the girls favourite breakfast: crepes with lots of fruit, clotted cream and sausages.

He opened the window, shivering at the blast of frigid air as the owl entered the house. Hedwig was on her roost. She lazily turned to look up and gave a dignified hoot. Unfortunately, she was starting to show her age, already having lived a good bit longer than non-magical owls.

"Easy," he told the Eurasian owl. He gave the owl a fresh sausage and some water as it warmed up before moving towards the window again. In that time Harry had opened the letter and smiled. It was a Christmas card from his Account Manager Rosetwist. The little gnome had become a friend over the years, and he enjoyed seeing her with her children and husband.

"Dada, is breakfast ready?" Elaina asked.

He took a plate and piled it with food as the second round of sausages went into the pan. "Here. Go tell your mama and sister that things are ready. Grandpa, Grandma and Aunty Annabelle will be over soon."

Elaina gingerly took the plate, balancing it over to the table before running off to get the others. When they came in, Harry asked Hermione, "Luv, would you send a card back to Rosetwist? I forgot to do that this year."

"I already did, Harry. Is that from Rosetwist?" she asked, looking at the card on the counter.

"Yeah. I may have to increase her percentage again and have her go after the goblins for a better contract in Ireland," he said as he flipped a crepe in the pan. "I want to expand the store in Dublin. Maybe I can get the gnomes rights for their airships too?"

Hermione chuckled before pecking his lips. "You just enjoy seeing her get all excited to be able to go after the goblins."

Harry gave her a cheeky grin back. "Well, it's not like the goblins ever did anything good for me."

Hermione clucked her tongue. Lena was patiently waiting for Hermione to hand her a plate. "Be careful. You too," she said to Lena first, then him.

"I never start any trouble."

The look she gave him told him she didn't believe him. She affectionately patted his cheek. "You're lucky your handsome."

Harry laughed. He spent the next bit trying to figure out what fun he could give Rosetwist. The goblins were still upset with him for pulling out all his funds, especially now that he had grown his wealth with his engineering and other businesses. If the little blighters had helped him when he went to them that Christmas after he was emancipated, then things would have worked out better for them.

"Grandpa!" Lena exclaimed when she saw him walking up the path outside the door with an armful of presents. He could worry about how the gnomes could cause more issues for the goblins later. Family was more important.

Besides, teasing his fourteen-year-old sister in-law was getting interesting now that she knew what boys were. Well, it was more teasing Dagmar, but Annabelle could turn a few shades of red he hadn't seen before. He just wished his father-in-law didn't stop his fun at times when he mentioned his own girls.

"Happy Christmas," he said quickly to everyone before going back to the stove. Harry was soon having an exceptionally good day as everyone piled into their dining area and Harry was able to join them.

-oOo-

C'est Fin.