HP/LOTM: Visionary - 441

Chapter 441: The Warrior’s Revenge Returns Home, New Horcrux News

By the Nile, Edmond rubbed the ring on his finger, the one engraved with his family crest. A black-covered book floated up beside him, and a translucent shadow rose from its pages.

“Are you ready?” Aiden asked.

“Of course.” Edmond smiled. “A full million converted wizards.”

Aiden recited an ancient verse, his tone light, almost sing-song.

“A son cruelly banished,
Despair of the daughter,
Return, great avenger,
With wings from the water.”

“Tycho Dodonus… I can’t believe anyone still remembers,” Edmond said, a little wistful.

“Of course I remember. During the Second World War, I watched that prophecy nearly come true,” Aiden said with a shrug. “Shame the Lestranges didn’t have a boy back then.”

“But we don’t have a daughter now either,” Edmond said blankly.

“My dear young Master Lestrange,” Aiden said, strolling over and hooking an arm around Edmond’s shoulder, his delicate face splitting into an exaggerated, ridiculous grin. “You don’t seriously think a prophecy has to be that strict to activate, do you?”

“Couldn’t some writer give it a gentle push? You know, rewrite what counts, turn someone who married out but still carries the surname into the ‘daughter’, that sort of thing?”

“That’s impressive,” Edmond said, glancing sideways at him. “That’s practically no different from a god.”

“Low profile, low profile.” Aiden fluttered his left hand. “Right, one more thing. Once you set out, travel by water. I suggest landing through France.”

“Got it. Now get lost.” Edmond yanked the book over and snapped it shut.

“Hey, wai…” Aiden’s complaint cut off mid-syllable as the projection vanished.

“By water, then.” Edmond looked at the wizards, busy readying weapons and supplies, and his gaze hardened. He strode forward.

…

In Britain, at the Order of the Phoenix’s new secret safe house, Dobby delivered Harry and the others as Aberforth had instructed.

Aberforth simply couldn’t stand his brother treating the Hog’s Head like a guesthouse. Due to his strong objections, Dumbledore found a different, hidden location to house the Order.

“Bill?” Harry blurted the moment he saw the man who came out to meet them.

“Come on,” Bill said, pulling them inside. “We’ll talk in there.”

“Harry!” Sirius, who had arrived earlier, stepped in and hugged him.

“I’m fine,” Harry said quickly, reassuring his godfather.

Behind them, Bill quietly complained to Ethan that over the last few hours, Sirius had been fretting like an old aunty, talking nonstop until Bill and Fleur had been forced to hide outside just to get a moment’s peace. That was why Harry had seen Bill first the moment he arrived.

“Anyway, go upstairs,” Bill said, patting Harry’s shoulder. “The goblin and Ollivander both seem to want a word with you.”

In an upstairs room, Ollivander and Griphook sat in opposite corners. Neither seemed to mind. Compared to a dungeon, this was practically a luxury.

“Mr Ollivander,” Harry said first.

“Mr Potter…” Ollivander’s face was drawn and miserable. “I’m very sorry. I couldn’t keep the secret. The Dark Lord’s power was too great.”

“What do you mean?” Harry did not understand the implication.

“He is searching for one of the Deathly Hallows, the Elder Wand,” Ollivander said. “I thought you knew, Lord of Resentment.”

He looked at Harry, and something in that flat, distant gaze made Harry’s skin prickle with fear.

“Sorry,” Ollivander added, as if catching himself. “When it comes to wands, I sometimes lose control of myself.”

He looked past Hermione and Ron, who had shifted in front of Harry protectively.

“I’m all right,” Harry said, patting their backs. He edged between them and sat on the bed.

“He stole my memories,” Ollivander said, covering his face, his voice hoarse. “During the Triwizard Tournament, I saw Dumbledore cast with that wand.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Harry said.

“But you must be careful,” Ollivander warned, forcing the words out. “If he obtains the Elder Wand… your chances of winning will be very low.”

Harry nodded, then turned and went to Griphook.

“And you? What did you want to say?”

“I heard you’re searching for Voldemort’s treasures,” Griphook said, smiling. Now that he had escaped danger, his hunger for wealth returned immediately.

“You know what she hid?” Harry seized him by the shoulders, unable to stop himself.

“Gently, Mr Potter.” Griphook smacked Harry’s hand away.

“They stored a golden cup in the Lestrange family vault at Gringotts,” Griphook said. “Along with the Sword of Gryffindor.”

“That sword’s a fake. I know,” Harry said, repeating what he had overheard before.

Griphook’s eyes widened slightly.

“I need to get into that vault,” Harry said, staring him down.

“That’s impossible,” Griphook said flatly.

“Not alone,” Harry replied, lips tightening. “But with you, it becomes possible.”

“And why would I help you, Mr Potter?” Griphook asked, wearing a goblin’s trademark smile.

“I have gold. A lot of gold,” Harry said without hesitation. The Potter fortune felt meaningless to him at this moment. He could give it away as easily as breathing.

“I’m not interested,” Griphook said, folding his arms. “And goblin gold? We can make that whenever we please.”

“Then what do you want?” Harry demanded.

Griphook did not answer. He only lifted a finger and pointed at the sword on Ron’s back.

“Fine,” Harry said at once. “Deal.”

The three of them left the room. At the corner of the corridor, Hermione and Ron stopped Harry.

“Have you lost your mind?” Ron hissed. “If you hand him the sword, how are we supposed to destroy Horcruxes?”

“Aiden destroyed Horcruxes too,” Harry said, blinking at them. “And he’s not a Gryffindor, and he never had that sword. So there has to be another way.”

Then, beyond the window behind him, a gigantic basilisk lifted its head and gave the three of them a slow wink.

“Merlin, don’t look it in the eye!” Ron yelped, clapping his hands over his head and dropping into a crouch.

“It’s not cursing us,” Hermione said, half-laughing as she nudged him. “Could you not be so cowardly, Ronnie?”

“Did Aiden send you to help us?” Harry pushed the window open and patted the basilisk gently on the snout.

The basilisk backed away a little, then shook its head hard, up and down.

“Great!” Harry said, punching the air once.

“How did you know it was safe?” Ron still sounded shaken, refusing to open his eyes. “I thought it was going to kill us.”

“Just a feeling.” Harry shrugged. “I don’t know why, but I feel like all dragon-serpents can be trusted.”

With the plan set, the trio began disguising themselves. Griphook provided them with a Death Eater’s hair and Bellatrix’s hair.

Hermione dressed in gleaming black leather, painted her nails black, and deliberately messed her hair into a wild tangle.

Ron pulled on a black coat, strapped on boots, and flipped his collar up sharply.

They drank the Polyjuice Potion.

Then, in a crack of Apparition, the two of them vanished.