HP/LOTM: Visionary - 442

Chapter 442: Breaking into Gringotts, Betrayal

“Madam Lestrange.”

In Diagon Alley, a passing Snatcher nodded at Hermione, who was disguised as Bellatrix.

“Good morning,” Hermione replied, trying to sound casual. She came out stiff anyway.

The Snatcher paused, frowned like something felt off, then clicked his tongue and walked away.

“Good morning,” Griphook muttered under his breath, then gave Hermione a sharp kick.

“Hey, don’t get so worked up,” Harry cut in, stopping him.

“She nearly got us killed,” Griphook hissed, anger and warning tangled together. “Stop thinking like some school kid when you’re dealing with Death Eaters, or we’ll end up using that sword on ourselves!”

Harry hoisted Griphook up and pulled the Invisibility Cloak over himself. The four of them slipped into Gringotts together.

The bank’s marble hall was as grand as ever. Tall counters lined both sides, unchanged for decades, with goblins handling business behind them.

But things were different now.

People from various oversight offices patrolled between the counters, occasionally stopping to flip through goblin account books. If anything looked wrong, they could arrest the goblins on the spot and haul them off to face the Wizengamot.

When Voldemort seized control of Britain, he tried to enslave the goblins. They resisted, but with these “regulators” in place, he didn’t bother wiping them out. Instead, he used constant pressure to force compliance.

Hermione strode into the centre of the hall and up to the main counter. She cleared her throat.

“I’m here for my vault.”

The goblin in front of her pushed his spectacles up his nose, then turned and went to fetch the manager, Bogrod.

“They know she’s a fake. We’re finished,” Griphook murmured.

Ron saw security moving closer behind them. His right hand slid into his pocket, fingers tightening around his wand.

A moment later, the goblin returned with Bogrod. Bogrod offered Hermione a polite, almost apologetic smile.

“Madam Lestrange, may we see your wand?”

“Why should I show it to you?” Hermione lifted her chin and pouted, forcing herself to act offended.

“It’s bank policy,” Bogrod said, his smile deepening. “You know how tense things are right now.”

“I don’t care how tense things are,” Hermione snapped, but the force was not there. She could not summon Bellatrix’s manic edge.

“In that case, I’m afraid…” Bogrod began.

A wand thrust out from the right and struck first.

“Imperio.”

“Please come with me,” Bogrod said blankly, his tone suddenly flat, his words the exact opposite of what he meant.

The goblin beside him shot Bogrod a strange look, but Bogrod was the manager. He said nothing.

Seeing Bogrod agree to escort them, the approaching guards slowed and backed off.

The group boarded a mine cart and plunged down into the depths.

Along the way, they were drenched by the waterfall at the top of the track.

Then the cart tipped sharply mid-run, and all of them were dumped straight down into the bottom of the vault.

“Arresto Momentum!” Hermione cast in time, catching them in mid-air just before they would have hit the ground hard enough to become a smear.

They scrambled upright. Hermione and Ron were already reverting, their features shifting back into their original faces.

“You changed back?” Harry asked.

“That was the Thief’s Downfall,” Griphook said. “It washes away all magic.”

“Why didn’t you tell us earlier?” Ron snapped, glaring at him.

Bogrod came to as well. He stared at the unfamiliar faces in front of him.

“You? You’re thieves. And you, Griphook. You’ve been sacked, you traitorous little—”

Ron did not let him finish.

“Imperio.”

Bogrod’s eyes went blank again.

A deep roar rolled up behind them.

They stepped forward, and outside the vault, a pale dragon lay sprawled across the floor.

“Brilliant. A Ukrainian Ironbelly,” Ron muttered, flattening himself against the wall.

Griphook grabbed two metal clappers from a nearby crate and shook them. The dull, pounding rattle echoed again and again, and the dragon recoiled, uneasy and afraid.

“Why does that work?” Hermione asked.

“It’s been trained,” Griphook said casually. “Noise means punishment.”

Then he waved them on. “Move.”

They crossed the chamber guarded by the dragon and reached a row of vault doors.

Griphook seized Bogrod’s hand and pressed it to the control plate.

Click.

The magic recognized the authorized signature. The mechanisms on the vault door began to retract.

The entire metal door sprang open, sliding into the frame.

“There’s a suction charm on it,” Griphook said with a nasty grin, as if warning intruders. It would have been convincing if he weren’t one of them. “If the wrong person triggers it, they get sucked in and jammed into the compartments inside. By the way, we only clear those compartments once every ten years.”

They entered.

The vault was packed with gold and jewels. The three wizards raised their wands and cast Lumos. In the dim light, the gold shone with an unmatched glow.

None of them cared.

“Harry, can you sense a Horcrux?” Ron asked.

“Accio Horcrux,” Hermione tried instinctively.

“It won’t work,” Harry said quickly, stopping her. “Horcruxes are immune to Summoning Charms.”

Then Harry closed his eyes and let his magic spread out, using it like fingertips to brush across the treasures around him.

Before long, he heard it.

A golden cup perched high above, whispering.

“There!” Harry pointed at a goblet on a ledge against the wall.

Hermione looked up and accidentally knocked a golden bowl off a pile. It hit the ground and began to tremble.

Then it split into two.

The shaking did not stop.

“These treasures are cursed to multiply,” Griphook warned.

But Harry was already diving forward.

The instant he touched the hoard, the gold began to replicate violently. More and more bricks and bowls surged up, lifting Harry off his feet.

At the critical moment, he drove the Sword of Gryffindor forward, hooking the cup by its handle, then yanked it back and got it into his grasp.

After that, the three of them swam through a sea of multiplying gold, fighting their way towards the door.

Griphook lunged, snatched the cup out of Harry’s hand, and hissed, “Give me the Sword of Gryffindor!”

Harry shot him a furious look, then threw the sword.

Griphook caught it, admired it for a heartbeat, then casually tossed the cup back to Hermione.

“I said I’d get you in,” Griphook said, his smile sharp and twisted enough to chill the blood. “I never said I’d get you out.”

He slapped Bogrod’s hand back onto the control plate.

The door began to close.

“Sectumsempra!”

Golden power erupted from Harry. The closing door was sliced apart as if it were parchment. Harry burst through with Hermione and Ron at his heels.

Griphook had already taken the clappers and triggered the alarm. Gringotts security wizards were rushing in. From far down the corridor, curses flew towards the trio.

“Relax,” Ron said, ducking behind a stone pillar as spells cracked past. “At least we’ve still got Bogrod, right?”

Below them, Bogrod, trapped by the Imperius Curse, had wandered right to the dragon’s mouth.

The Ironbelly opened wide and swallowed him in one bite.

Harry and Hermione turned to stare at Ron, both wearing the same exhausted, helpless look.