All For You - Chapter 46

Chapter 46

Although she couldn’t be seen, she held her breath and dared not move an inch as she observed what was happening below, making a mental note of how long she’d been in the room.

It had been more years than she cared to count since she’d done something so dangerous and clandestine, and the last time she had taken such a venture was the same day she’d met her husband.

Eleanor had never expected to be caught so easily, but Harry had somehow figured out how she was able to steal large sums of gold from Gringotts's supposed impenetrable vaults.

She had been prepared to spend the next decade or so in prison, but instead, Harry had given Eleanor the best years of her life, three children, and invaluable bliss.

As all couples do, they’d had their ups and downs throughout their marriage, but she’d never regretted the choices she’d made, even now when the past had caught up to them in such a spectacular and unwelcome way.

Eleanor knew that Harry harboured a deep resentment for those who had abducted her, which all but forced him to withdraw from the war against Grindelwald.

It was a testament to how much she meant to him, and Eleanor had never forgotten that. Now, it seemed that whatever hope she’d had for a life of peace had crumbled around them, and Eleanor intended to do her part.

Harry was her husband, and she would not sit idly by whilst he did what he felt he needed to, not when she had the tools at her disposal to help him.

For days now, she’d been up to her old tricks: lying in wait, watching, and learning all she needed to access one of the prized vaults guarded so meticulously by the goblins.

This time, however, it was not mounds of gold she coveted but information, and if there were anywhere in the world Laurent would leave such, it would be in a place he believed to be unreachable for anyone but him.

She listened as the goblins muttered amongst themselves in their own tongue, and only a few moments later, they left the cavern she was observing them in.

After a moment, she followed in their wake and began the long journey back to the surface in her spider form.

Eleanor dared not change back until she’d put some distance between herself and the bank, but when she did, she breathed a sigh of relief when she only had two legs once more.

Whilst the information was fresh, she removed a notebook and jotted down the details of her latest escapade.

Nodding to herself, she was content that she had a measure of the security in place and how often and regularly the vault was opened over the course of a fortnight.

Although she was nervous, Eleanor knew that she would learn little to nothing else by continuing in this vain.

It was time to take the plunge and enter the vault the next time it was opened.

From there, it would be around a forty-eight-hour wait before the door would open again unless something drastically changed with the scheduling she’d been observing.

She hoped not, but Eleanor was not foolish enough not to tell Harry what she intended to do.

He wouldn’t be happy with her decision, but he knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t be deterred.

Her husband might not like it, but this was her fight just as much as it was his, and Eleanor would play her part.

(Break)

With what had occurred in Diagon Alley, Amelia’s mood was undeniably grim, and Harry didn’t seem to be faring any better. He’d returned from his excursion tired but seemingly happy.

That had changed when he had learned of the attack, and he had been doing his utmost to comfort Amelia.

Imelda and four other Aurors were dead, and for the first time since the hostilities had begun, Amelia felt that the Ministry of Magic was truly outmanned, outnumbered, and out of its depth.

Still, it wasn’t the woes of Britain that were occupying Amelia’s mind.

The man who’d come to their aide, the one who resembled the man sitting next to her so uncannily that for many, it would be impossible to differentiate between the two.

Harry Evans, or so her Harry had explained.

Coming to terms with everything else she’d learned in the past weeks had been difficult enough, but to know that there was another Harry somehow among them was something else entirely.

Amelia was grateful for his timely arrival, but she simply couldn’t comprehend how such a thing was possible without giving herself a headache.

Harry had explained his thoughts on it, and though it somewhat made sense to Amelia, given the other Harry’s link to the prophecy, it was still undoubtedly the strangest occurrence she had come across.

“Any idea when the funeral will be?”

“Not for a week or so yet,” Amelia sighed tiredly. “Her father came to the Ministry to collect her body.”

“Poor man,” Harry murmured sympathetically.

Amelia nodded.

“It was strange. He didn’t say a word. It was as though he was just numb. He collected her body, signed the papers and left.”

“I expect he’s in shock and trying to process what has happened.”

“It’s not unusual, but there was just something about him I couldn’t put my finger on. It was as though he was taking in every detail of Imelda’s face. He didn’t cry, and he didn’t get angry.”

“People handle grief differently,” Harry pointed out.

“I suppose so,” Amelia replied with a shrug.

She was deeply saddened by Imelda’s loss, and though she knew she couldn’t blame herself as her mentor, she couldn’t help but feel responsible.

“Are you able to tell me where you were?” she asked.

“Minsk,” Harry answered. “I was following up on a lead.”

“Did you get anywhere?”

Harry nodded darkly.

“Further than I thought I would. I know my next move, and it won’t be long before Laurent is dealt with. With him gone, I can finally focus on Abernathy. I expect he will be the most difficult to get to. He’s very cautious about everything he does.”

“But you can get to him?”

“I can,” Harry confirmed. “I have a way in; it’s just about waiting for the most opportune moment to take it.”

Amelia said nothing else on the matter and allowed Harry time to ponder whatever thoughts were plaguing him.

She knew he was weighing up his options and being as meticulous as ever, but she could not ignore the one thing she had yet to mention to him.

“Harry?”

His gaze shifted towards her and he frowned at concerned tone she spoke with.

“What is it?”

Amelia took a deep breath.

“Before the attack happened, someone came to me and said they wished to speak with you.”

“Who?”

“She said her name was Cassiopeia Black and that you shared a mutual acquaintance on the continent you spoke with recently. She said she wants to meet you and that you should visit him again.”

Evidently, Harry knew to whom she was referring and he merely nodded in response.

“Did you know she was wanted for war crimes during Grindelwald’s uprising?”

“I know that she supported him.”

“She’s a very dangerous woman.”

“And someone useful to have on our side if it can be arranged,” Harry pointed out. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but she may be able to shine some light on what is happening. Killing Riddle is one thing, and I will be getting to that soon enough, but what is happening on the continent and beyond is like nothing I’ve ever encountered. We will need all the help we can get.”

Amelia was glad that he was including her in his plans.

They were in this together, after all.

As far as Amelia was concerned, it was the two of them facing insurmountable odds, but somehow, she knew they would come out on the other side.

Harry wouldn’t fail, and neither would she.

“Where are you going?” she asked as he stood.

“It will be a while before I can act against Laurent,” Harry huffed. “For now, I can do something to soften Riddle’s influence. He will continue to run and hide when he feels that he is in danger, so I’m going to have to force him to face me. There’s only one way to do that.”

Amelia nodded her understanding and Harry placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

“Don’t wait up,” he sighed.

Amelia offered him a sad smile as he left the room.

He wasn’t so affected by Imelda’s death as she was, but Harry had his own things to contend with. He’d not divulged much of what had occurred in Minsk, but it was undoubtedly bothering him.

She would give him his space to process it, and he would come to her when he was ready to.

Still, it had been a trying twenty-four hours, and Amelia could not help but think that the trials and tribulations to follow in the coming days had yet to begin.

With so much having taken place in such a short amount of time, the fallout had not been felt yet.

Imelda had perished, along with more of their colleagues, the Serpent had once again intervened, and even Cassiopeia Black had made an appearance.

Amelia expected that the ramifications of each would soon be felt, but none more swiftly than Corvus Lestrange’s affiliation with Riddle.

Both Amelia and Kingsley had seen him, and Crouch had already issued a warrant for the man’s arrest.

Harry, however, had not been surprised and had merely grunted when she’d told him.

Amelia suspected that if Lestrange were not taken into custody soon, Harry would get to him, and if that were to happen, Crouch would not get the answers he sought.

Either way, Corvus Lestrange should hide as best he could because both the Aurors and Harry would be unwaveringly eager to get their hands on him.

(Break)

The Dark Lord exited the pensieve with a frown continuing to crease his brow. Although he considered the attack on Diagon Alley to be an overall success, he was furious at the appearance of the Serpent and his damned snake.

Voldemort had never heard of such a creature, and it was irksome that another had it at their disposal.

He was the rightful heir of Slytherin, so the snake should answer to him.

In the heat of the moment, he had not attempted to converse with it, though he suspected it would not cooperate. Ever since he’d been trying to ascertain exactly what it was and what the Serpent looked like.

His features seemed to be hidden by shadows continuously, and it gave the man quite the mysterious air.

Once more, he had proven himself troublesome, and his followers were more than a little unnerved by his appearance.

Yaxley had not been seen, and neither had Lestrange.

Both had seemingly vanished and had not answered his summons.

They would be punished in due course, but Lord Voldemort’s mind was occupied by thoughts on how he could be rid of the creature the Serpent had seemingly summoned from within himself.

Such a thing was an insult of the highest degree, and he wouldn’t stand for it.

Cursing under his breath, he entered the Pensieve once more, hoping to spot something he may have missed.

(Break)

“You see what we are dealing with, Minister,” Barty growled as he paced back and forth in front of the fireplace in Nobby’s office. “Taking a soft stance is failing, and it is getting our Aurors killed. Yet again, it was left up to a member of the public to salvage the situation.”

“The Serpent, Crouch,” the Minister mused aloud. “Haven’t you heard of him?”

Barty snorted derisively.

“I do not have time to entertain foolish mutterings of fabled men, Minister. I am imploring you to support my recommendations made to the Wizengamot. This Riddle is unhinged, and he will stop at nothing. We must be on equal footing if we are to stand a chance of defeating him. He proved that he is a threat, now grant me the powers I need to put an end to him. If you don’t then all is lost. We may as well just give him your job and let be what will be.”

Nobby knew that Crouch was speaking the truth, but to grant such drastic action would mean admitting that the Ministry had lost control of what was happening, and in truth, they had.

Another six Aurors had been killed in the line of duty, and it was something Nobby could no longer allow to continue.

Releasing a deep sigh, he nodded.

“You will have my support, Barty,” he assured the man, “but it is not just me you must convince. How many arrests were made?”

“Four,” Barty confirmed, “but it is Lestrange I want. I need a leave to search St Mungo’s. Bones is adamant that he will require significant treatment from a Healer, and it is the only lead we have to his whereabouts.”

“Very well,” Nobby agreed. “I’ll sign it for you with the understanding that no Healers are to be arrested if he is there. They are only doing their jobs.”

“Done,” Crouch declared, “and I expect an emergency meeting of the Wizengamot to be called to press the matter. Time is of the essence, Minister, and we cannot afford to waste even a second.”

With that, Barty left the office, closing the door behind him louder than necessary, and Nobby released a deep breath.

How things had gotten so bad, he didn’t know.

One minute, it had been protests leading to violence at the Quidditch matches, and now, it was war on the streets of Britain.

It was as though the entire dynamic of the country had changed overnight, but in reality, it had been undeniably brewing for so long, and Nobby Leach had not seen it coming.

Perhaps he was no longer fit for his position.

Despite knowing what Crouch was suggesting was the right thing to do, within himself, he simply could not morally justify the implementation of such violence.

(Break)

“I wanted to thank you for intervening when you did,” Harry offered sincerely. “If you hadn’t…”

“But I did,” the other Harry pointed out. “You’re just like me when I was younger. I used to dwell on the terrible things that could’ve been rather than what it was. You’ll grow out of it.”

Harry snorted amusedly as he shook his head.

“You’re right,” he sighed. “Regardless, I am grateful. How could you though with the vow?”

The other Harry frowned.

“I suppose because Riddle has already attacked me, the magic is allowing me to see him as a permanent threat. I can’t say I fully understand it. It’s almost as though the magic of the vow is sentient or is complex enough to be fluid in such ways. I don’t know, but it didn’t give me any difficulty when I was there.”

Harry nodded his agreement.

“I expect you’re right. What do you know of Cassiopeia Black?”

“Cassiopeia? The woman is a damned lunatic at the best of times,” the other Harry chuckled humourlessly. “She’s as devoted to Grindelwald as I remember Bellatrix being to Riddle. Why?”

“She’s requested a meeting with me,” Harry explained, “and Bellatrix won’t be joining Tom. She’s going to be starting as my apprentice next week.”

The other Harry was surprised by the revelation, but he nodded his approval.

“Smart move,” he praised.

“She earned it,” Harry explained. She’s an excellent student, and it’s certainly better to give her something positive than to allow her to join the Death Eaters.”

“What are you going to do about the other Death Eaters?”

“I’m going to take them out of the equation. It’s the only way to defeat him. Even when he was gone for thirteen years, they flocked to him the moment he called. Whether it was out of loyalty or fear, it doesn’t matter. They are dangerous, and they shouldn’t be allowed to get away with what they’ve done. The likes of Malfoy won’t be bribing their way out of it this time.”

“Good,” the other Harry declared. “Best not to take any chances.”

“I’ll be starting with Yaxley. I’ve got more than one bone to pick with him, and it will serve as a warning to Tom. When he realises his most useful followers aren’t around, he will be forced to either run or fight. I’ll find him either way.”

“We will find him,” the other Harry corrected. “We are in this together. How did your venture in Minsk go?”

“Better than expected. I learnt more than I thought, but I have more questions now than when I went. Have you heard of Manon Dubois?”

The other Harry frowned.

“The name is familiar. Wasn’t she a wandmaker from Paris?”

“She was, and now she is posing as Sebastien Laurent’s wife, who they murdered some two decades ago.”

“Bloody hell, this just keeps getting better, but I can’t say that I’m surprised. Nothing surprises me with that lot. What do you intend on doing?”

“I’m going to take her, just as they did to your Eleanor, only this time, the captive won’t be innocent. Her nephew, Pierre, was a Hit-Wizard. He was placed by Laurent as an asset. Manon is no more innocent than any of them, and from what I learned from her nephew, she deserves everything she has coming.”

The other Harry grinned as he nodded his agreement.

“What did you do with him?”

“He’s dead and rotting at the bottom of the Senne. The bastard deserved worse.”

“Good. What’s your next move?”

“Laurent will be finished soon, and then I can move on to Abernathy. Hopefully, Tom will be killed between the two.”

“He’s going to hide, isn’t he?”

“He’ll be more cautious than he has been. He always is when he holds no advantage, but it won’t last. He’s in too deep to walk away, and his ego won’t allow it.”

The other Harry hummed disapprovingly.

“The sooner he is dead, the better.”

“Him and the others,” Harry sighed. “I just want to live my life without Dark Lords or odd consortiums of power-mad nutters. Is that too much to ask?”

“It shouldn’t be. How is Bones?”

Harry deflated at the question.

“I don’t think it has sunk in yet,” he sighed. “She’s a tough woman, and given that she lost her parents when she did, it’s not as though she’s a stranger to death. She’s just as weary as everyone else.”

“And the Ministry will still not do anything about it,” the other Harry grumbled. “I did see Dumbledore has formed the Order, well, somewhat. He was there with a few of the original members I recognised from the photo Sirius showed me. Have you seen him?”

“Him and James,” Harry said with a smile. “They’ve not even started Hogwarts yet.”

“And I bet they’re still a pain in the arse.”

“You’re not wrong. Anyway, I have some things to look into. Do you think I should meet with Black?”

The other Harry frowned.

“It might be worth hearing what she has to say, but be careful. She is only loyal to Grindelwald and will show none of that to you.”

Harry nodded and apparated away.

Being pulled in so many directions was not easy to manage, and in less than a week, he’d be back at Hogwarts.

In the days leading up to his return to teaching, he had much to do, beginning with another conversation with a long overdue visit to a man who seemingly could not learn a lesson.

(Break)

Although it was unlike Leach to act with any semblance of urgency, Barty had received the requested warrant within the hour of leaving the Minister’s office and had wasted no time in executing it.

He’d brought thirty of his best Aurors to St Mungo’s, and as they stepped into the entrance, a sour-faced Healer immediately intercepted them.

“Is there something I can help you with?” she asked irritably.

“Yes, you can take this and get out of our way!” Barty snapped. “And if you are aware of where Lord Lestrange is, you will show me to him immediately.”

The Healer took a moment to read the order and frowned.

“Very well, but I will not have any of the other patients being disturbed,” she said sternly. “Follow me, Mr Crouch.”

Barty gestured for a group of six to accompany him.

“The rest of you cover the exits,” he commanded, falling into step behind the Healer.

She led them through the corridors and into one of the wards, which dealt with significant trauma.

It was when they reached the private suites that she halted outside of one and nodded at the door.

“He is inside,” the Healer informed him quietly.

Barty nodded to the other Aurors, who each readied themselves, and Barty entered the room.

It quickly became clear that having six of them was unnecessary.

Lestrange was barely lucid as his gaze shifted towards them, and though he raised his arms defensively, he was in no condition to pose any threat.

The visible skin on his face, neck, and hands was littered with black lines where the flesh had died, and the man’s eyes were a deep yellow.

“He’s dying,” Barty realised. “How long does he have?”

The Healer shook her head.

“He’s not responding to treatment,” she explained. “He sought help too late, and I would say he has a day or so at best. His family has been informed, and they visited a few hours ago. He gave his eldest son his family ring. As you can see, it is missing from his finger.”

Barty frowned as he gazed upon Corvus Lestrange.

He’d been a prominent figure on the Wizengamot for more years than he cared to count, but it was his own foolish decisions that had led him to where he was now.

“Well, until he is dead, he will have around-the-clock supervision,” Barty explained. “From now on, there are to be no visitors, and I wish to be kept informed of any who tries to see him. Understood?”

The Healer nodded.

“Good. Now, was anyone else admitted in the past forty-eight hours with injuries that may have come from a fight?”

“Only one other,” the Healer replied. “A Mr Mulciber, but he left a few hours after arriving. He was treated for a rather nasty bite.”

“What kind of bite?”

“It appeared to be a snake bite, but he wouldn’t say what kind.”

“Of course he wouldn’t,” Barty huffed. “Fine, thank you for your cooperation. Jarvis, I want you and the others to accompany me to pay a visit to Mr Mulciber. If he has nothing to hide, he has nothing to fear. Campbell and Winton, the two of you will remain here. You will be relieved before the end of your shift.”

The two Aurors nodded and settled in for the duration whilst Barty fired off instructions to the others.

Lestrange would soon be dead, and given his condition, anything they did extract from him would be admissible in front of the Wizengamot. Mulciber, however, was not exempt, and after months of unpleasant incidents across the country, it seemed the department finally had a lead worth pursuing.

(Break)

He raised his glass to take another sip of whiskey, only to find that the glass was empty once again. He couldn’t be certain how many times he’d repeated the process, but it didn’t matter.

All he had done throughout the years would soon catch up to him. Of that, Corbin had no doubt.

Foolishly, he’d continued to follow Riddle in his endeavour to overthrow the Ministry of Magic, and though the man was having a measure of success, it was not to last.

Corbin had not missed the arrival of the Serpent, nor what had followed.

Riddle was out of his depth, a novel concept, but there was no denying it.

Between Jameson and the Serpent, the man’s days were numbered.

As such, Corbin’s were too, and he’d decided to simply drink until he was to meet his maker.

Too much had happened for it not to be imminent.

He’d been warned twice, and he’d not heeded the words bestowed upon him. Instead, he’d continued on the path he’d set upon and hadn’t looked back.

Still, he was hopeful his wife and two sons would survive the coming storm.

He’d sent them far away from Britain, under the guise that the country had become too dangerous for them.

He’d omitted that he was part of the reason it was so, and he’d said nothing about the Serpent.

“It took you long enough,” he slurred when he felt a familiar presence materialise behind him. “Come on then, let’s get it over with.”

“You’re not going to fight back? Now that is a shame,” a voice replied.

Corbin was surprised to see the man step out from the shadows, and even more so by who it was who’d arrived.

“Jameson?”

The man nodded.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter what you do and don’t know anymore,” he said almost disappointedly. “For some reason, you believed it was another visiting you on the odd occasion, but it’s been me all along.”

“Not the Serpent?”

Jameson chuckled as he drew his wand.

“You could say that we are one and the same,” he returned. “Now, what do we do with you?”

“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Jameson answered. “Make no mistake, but it depends on you how agonising and humiliating your death will be. You can either talk willingly, or I can tear what I want to know from you little by little. I’m hoping for the latter, but I expect you will continue to disappoint me.”

Corbin snorted as he poured himself another measure of whiskey and repeated the process before sliding it across the desk.

“I suppose my dignity is all I have left,” he murmured. “I have only one request of you.”

“Go on,” Jameson urged.

“Leave my family out of it,” Corbin almost pleaded. “They had no involvement in anything I’ve done and are not followers of his.”

Jameson frowned, and as Corbin met his gaze, he felt a sharp intrusion upon his mind.

“Your family will not be harmed, so long as they remain neutral. You have my word.”

Somehow, Corbin believed him, and he nodded appreciatively.

“Well, what is it you wish to know?”

“Everything,” Jameson answered. “I want to know everything.”

(Break)

It had been so long since she’d entered one of the vaults of Gringotts. It was one thing to observe the comings and goings of the bank and the activity of the vault in question, but to enter it was another matter entirely.

If she was caught…

She dared not consider the possibility.

The goblins were not forgiving creatures, and the French Ministry wouldn’t be either.

It was her life on the line, and as the door closed, Eleanor waited several minutes to ensure those tending to the vault had indeed left.

Carefully, she began to scurry across the stone floor before navigating her way onto a nearby table.

She had no interest in the gold, only the files stacked neatly throughout the cavernous room.

If there was anything here worth finding, she would find it.

It was no easy feat as a spider.

Even moving around the room was difficult enough, let alone gathering what she came for.

It would be frustrating to say the least, but before Eleanor could even begin her task, she felt something shift within the vault, and she quickly found herself trapped within a magical sphere, held aloft, and staring into the beady eyes of a goblin.

“You really didn’t think we would’ve taken extra precautions after the last time” the creature growled triumphantly. “Now, what do we do with you?”

Dread.

She’d not felt such since she’d been kidnapped by Grindelwald’s men, yet somehow, this was worse.

The goblins were not known for their negotiations, and they held all the cards.

If she lived to see the sunrise, Eleanor knew she would indeed be fortunate.

(Break)

It had been rather disconcerting to be interrupted by a talking patronus, and even more so that it had been able to find her whilst she was behind the best protections she could muster.

Having seen what had unfolded in Diagon Alley, Cassiopeia was taking no chances with her safety, and yet, Jameson had managed to breach her defences with apparent ease.

It made her glad that she intended to work with the man and not against, at Gellert’s behest, of course.

“Will you stop pacing? He said he will be here, so, he will be here.”

Cassiopeia frowned at the imprisoned man and stood in front of the door to his cell.

“I don’t like it,” she grumbled. “I don’t like the idea of working with him.”

“I can assure you it is a damned sight better than trying to work against him. Believe me, Cassie, if he even suspects you are not sincere, he will kill you out of precaution.”

“I’d like to see him try.”

Gellert shook his head in response but said nothing else.

Although Cassiopeia had opted to work with Jameson, and the Serpent if necessary, that didn’t mean she had to like it.

“Ah, I believe that is him coming now.”

Cassiopeia checked her watch.

Why he’d insisted on such a late hour, she didn’t know, but he was here now, and she braced herself for his appearance.

She frowned as he rounded the corner.

Cassiopeia didn’t know Jameson, and certainly hadn’t seen him up close, but there was something eerily familiar about him.

He was of average height, and had a crop of messy black hair, but it was his eyes she was drawn to. They were a shade of emerald green, not unlike the hue of the killing curse.

Within them, she saw a man who was no stranger to violence, and yet, there was also a calmness there that belied just how dangerous he was.

“Mr Jameson,” Gellert greeted him somewhat fondly. “It is good to see you again.”

“Is it?” Jameson returned with a smirk. “I got the impression you were not so pleased by my last visit.”

“Things have changed,” Gellert replied. “I admit, I was taken aback by our conversation, and you left me with dozens of questions I do not think I will ever answer, but I remain curious to see what you will achieve.”

“Death mostly, I expect,” Jameson chuckled humourlessly as he turned his attention to Cassiopeia. “Bellatrix speaks rather highly of you, Miss Black,” he offered.

He was cautious, and seemingly ready to draw his wand in an instant if he felt it necessary.

“As she does you,” Cassiopeia replied.

Jameson nodded, and that was evidently the end of any pleasantries to be exchanged.

“What has changed?”

Gellert’s expression darkened.

“Laurent came to visit me,” he informed Jameson. “The man is a damned fool, but he’s become rather powerful. Believe it or not, Mr Jameson, I never intended for them to become what they have. I wanted peace for all magical people. Not this.”

Jameson nodded.

“Well, I have made some progress since we met. I know of the fate of Manon Dubois, and where I can find her. I intend to do so shortly.”

“What did become of her?”

“Laurent and Dubois murdered his wife, and she has been posing as the woman ever since.”

Gellert shook his head in disgust.

“Cretin,” he grumbled. “Well, Cassiopeia here is going to assist you. I can assure you, Mr Jameson, she is an invaluable asset.”

Jameson’s gaze shifted towards her once more.

“And is Miss Black willing to work with our other associate?”

Cassiopeia’s nostrils flared, but she nodded.

“For Gellert, I will.”

“Excellent,” the former Dark Lord declared.

“The problem we do have, is the vow. Is there any way to break it?”

“Not until Laurent, Fontaine, and Berg are dead. The latter two are the ICW representatives of Belgium and Norway, respectively.”

“Not Abernathy?” Jameson pressed.

“Abernathy refused to have any part in anything that would tie him magically to our alliance, not until the defection was complete and the war over.”

“He’s not as stupid as he looks then.”

“No, and he is a very dangerous man,” Gellert warned. “Fontaine will be the easiest of the three, and Berg is a very powerful wizard, with an exceptional security detail. He will be difficult, but Laurent…”

Gellert shook his head as he broke off.

“I can give no indication of just how powerful he has become, but you should tread lightly, Jameson.”

Jameson nodded thoughtfully.

“Well, he’s the one I’m closest to,” he murmured. “Miss Black, I would like you to focus your efforts on Fontaine. I want to know where he is, what he’s doing, and who he is meeting with. The more information you can get, the easier it will be, and if the opportunity arises to kill him, don’t be afraid to take it.”

“Believe me, Jameson, I do not need a second invitation to kill someone,” Cassiopeia snarked.

Gellert shook his head.

The woman was difficult at the best of times, and although she’d agreed to work with Jameson, she was only doing so at Gellert’s behest. Were it not for his insistence, she would likely be planning his demise.

“Good,” Jameson declared, ignoring her hostile attitude. “You may not like me, and from what I have heard, I’m not so fond of you, but we have to be on the same page. I have no intention of seeing you killed, but if you give me a reason or put my life in danger, I will not hesitate to send what remains of you to your brother, and believe me, Miss Black, I will ensure it fits inside a matchbox.”

Cassiopeia glowered at him, but before she could speak, a disturbance could be heard from somewhere within the prison.

Both Jameson and Cassiopeia drew their wands as it came closer, though the former lowered his when he recognised the man who all but tore through each door on the way towards them.

The Serpent.

It had been more than two decades since Gellert had seen the man, but here he was, and he appeared to be in a fit of rage and panic.

“What is it?” Jameson asked worriedly.

“They have her,” Evans growled, and Gellert shuddered at the sudden coldness that filled the air.

“Who has who?” Jameson pressed.

“My wife! She’s somewhere in Paris.”

Jameson released a deep breath.

“How do they have her?”

Evans shook his head.

“I don’t know,” he growled. “I don’t know what the hell she was doing…”

He broke off and his eyes widened.

“Well, bollocks!” he cursed.

“What is it?”

“We were speaking about Laurent,” Evans murmured. “I was telling her that we needed to gather more information before we could take him down…no, she wouldn’t…”

“Wouldn’t what?”

Evans rubbed his eerily glowing eyes.

“Gringotts,” he groaned. “You remember what she used to do.”

“And she thought Laurent’s vault would contain more than gold,” Jameson sighed. “Bloody hell.”

“The goblins will have her,” Gellert interjected. “If she was caught in a vault, they wouldn’t hand her over. They will seek their own justice.”

Jameson nodded and a frown creased his brow.

“Have you ever broken into Gringotts?” he asked.

Evans shook his head.

“Have you?”

A slight grin tugged at Jameson’s lips as he nodded.

“I have,” he confirmed. “Getting in wasn’t a problem, but getting out… Let’s just say it’s going to get very messy. Come on, and you’ll want to bring your cloak.”

The two men left in a hurry, and Gellert looked towards Cassiopeia.

“The damned fools aren’t seriously going to break into Gringotts, are they?”

“My dear, I believe that is exactly what they’re going to do,” Gellert sighed.