Avalon - Chapter 66 - Mind Games

Mind Games

Harry could only sigh in frustration as he rubbed his eyes tiredly.

For hours now, he had been grilling Malfoy, and though he didn’t need Legilimency to see when the blond was lying to him, he’d prodded and probed at his mind with every question asked.

He had gleaned very little, and in hindsight, he knew he should’ve expected such an outcome.

“I’ve told you all I can, Potter,” Malfoy groaned, massaging his temples. “He put his own protections in place, and he’s not told me anything other than what he wanted me to do. My name is dirt thanks to you and what you did to my father.”

Harry turned his steely gaze towards Draco.

“Your name is dirt because of what your father has done,” he returned irritably. “He chose to follow Voldemort, and he did so willingly. Can you even imagine what he’s done in the name of his master? Murder, rape, torture, blackmail…the list goes on. He even tried to kill me once when I was only twelve.”

Draco glared at him defiantly and Harry shook his head.

“Forget Riddle,” Harry huffed. “What can you tell me about your Aunt Bellatrix?”

Malfoy’s glared turned into a frown before he swallowed deeply.

“She’s insane,” he whispered, showing more than a little fear of the woman. “I didn’t know her until she was broken out of Azkaban. She spends her days lounging around the house, declaring her love and devotion to him. She taught me Occlumency. And a few other useful spells, but that’s it. She’s not someone you want to sit down and share a tea with.”

Harry nodded.

He didn’t expect much from pressing Malfoy about the woman, but it had been worth a try.

“What about when she leaves your home?”

Draco snorted.

“She doesn’t, not unless he tells her to, and that’s only to make life for some other sod miserable. She told me all the things she’s done, about the people she killed and tortured, all because he told her to. She’s a monster, Potter, and he favours her above all others.”

It was then that Harry realised that Draco was little more than a scared boy.

Oh, he did not doubt that he had once been proud to be marked, just like his father, but the reality of following the Dark Lord had been much more different than he’d expected.

Now, he was merely stuck, lost, and desperate.

Still, that didn’t excuse him for being a git over the years, and even revelling in the thought of being a Death Eater, but he did seem to have truly learned from his foolish error.

It wasn’t as though the conversation had been entirely wasteful.

Harry had obtained a detailed drawing of the manor, and even locations of things that would of interest to him and Amelia Bones, should they gain entry.

“Potter, my mother…”

Draco broke off and shook his head.

“I know I have no right asking this of you, but she is not one of them. She doesn’t carry his mark and has never been in his service. Her only crime is wanting to protect me. She even went to Snape to ask for his help before he died. If there is any way…”

“I can’t make any promises,” Harry sighed. “Unless she finds a way to flee from him, there is little I can do. Even if Dumbledore was to request a meeting with her pertaining to your schooling, it would raise suspicion. I expect he’s watching all mail in and out of the home?”

Draco nodded defeatedly.

“He has Rookwood scanning it.”

“How many are staying there?” Harry asked curiously.

“Dozens. The house is always full of them.”

“So, the only way might just be to lure him out,” Harry mused aloud, looking towards the tired Albus.

The headmaster had not been pleased by his intrusion and had remained silent for much of the meeting.

“You might just be right, Harry,” he agreed.

“He will panic, and he will make mistakes. He will need to know about as many of them as he can. Do you think he knows if the diary?”

“I cannot say for certain, but I believe not,” Albus replied thoughtfully. “If he did, I expect Lucius would be dead.”

Harry hummed.

“You can get inside the manor,” he said to Draco.

The blond nodded nervously.

“But I cannot take anyone in with me,” he pointed out.

“No, I know,” Harry murmured, “but I may be able to get you a window to get your mother out. I imagine it will be chaotic, and dangerous, but it is the best I can do for you. You must be ready to leave immediately.”

Draco seemed uncertain, and Harry shook his head.

“It may be the only way you can help her. I know it goes against everything you’ve ever been taught, but self-preservation will only get you so far. One day, you will have to put someone else before you, if not you will end up alone. Your day will come soon, Malfoy.”

“Why do you care, Potter?” Malfoy asked suspiciously.

Harry snorted as he recalled a conversation he’d had with Salazar some years prior; around the time the man had made his wish for Harry to succeed the Founders known.

“What matters most, more than anything, is that Hogwarts and the students come first. You will make mistakes. We all have and still do, but so long as the students that walk through these doors are the first thing you think of in all matters, you cannot go so wrong that it cannot be fixed.”

The words had stuck with him, and even now, despite how he felt about Malfoy, he knew he would only be doing his mentors a disservice if he was to dismiss the young man out of hand.

“Because it’s not too late for you,” he answered. “You’ve royally fucked up, and your mistakes will follow you for the rest of your life, but you being here now means that you can still have a life. I would’ve killed you, Malfoy, do not think I wouldn’t, but you can be as much use to me as I am to you. If your mother is as innocent as you say, then she deserves a chance to escape your father’s mistakes, as do you.”

Malfoy eyed him sceptically for a moment before deflating.

“I’ll probably be killed, but I have to try.”

“That is all we can do. I’ll let you know the moment you have a window. Don’t worry, you will be provided a way of getting home as quickly as possible.”

“I can go?”

“You can,” Harry allowed.

Draco hesitated for only a moment before taking his leave of the office.

Harry wasn’t sure if he would come through for himself and his mother when it mattered most, but that was on him.

He’d given him a chance; more than he deserved given all he’d done.

“You handled that well, Harry,” Albus praised. “Everard said you would make a fine Headmaster, and I am inclined to agree.”

Harry chuckled humourlessly and shook his head.

“I didn’t know it, but it seems as though I have been groomed to take over for some years now. “I’ll be having words with the others when I get home.”

Albus smiled behind his beard before he frowned thoughtfully.

“Do you think it wise to allow Draco…”

“Dobby!” Harry called.

The little eccentric elf arrived with a little pop, and Harry chose to ignore his odd choice of clothing.

Somehow, he’d crammed four hats onto his head, and he was wearing no less than half a dozen pair of socks.

“Harry Potter, sir!” the elf greeted him enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around his legs.

Harry chuckled amusedly.

“Dobby, I have a very important job for you, do you think you can handle it?”

The elf stood as straight as a board and nodded; his ears flapping as he did so.

“Good,” Harry said gratefully “I need you to follow Draco, no matter where he goes. If he does anything, even send a letter, or get someone else to do anything for him, you are to tell me straight away.”

“Dobby can do that.”

“When I send a message to you, I will need you take him as close to his home as you can without alerting anyone there. I don’t know when that will be, but likely quite soon.”

Dobby merely nodded in response before vanishing, and Harry took a moment to peer across the grounds out of the window.

How he had become so synonymous with Hogwarts was something he would need to ponder later. For now, he needed to focus on the task at hand, and the important thing was to ensure they were rid of Tom by any means necessary.

“Are we to reveal our hand to him?”

Harry nodded.

“I do not think we have any other choice. We need him to come to us, and if he feels that they are at risk, he will have no other choice but to act. We must make sure every possible scenario is covered. There can be no mistakes with this.”

Dumbledore nodded his agreement as he stood next to Harry.

“It truly is magnificent, isn’t it,” he commented.

“It is,” Harry agreed, taking just a moment to allow himself to be unburdened by all that plagued him. “It is.”

(Break)

In all, she’d had rather little to do with Tonks since she’d met the woman. They were of a similar age, and fighting for the same cause closely, but there had never been much of a reason or them to interact much.

Harry had not known the metamorph before he’d been taken from this place, and Tonks didn’t spend so much time at Grimmauld Place aside from attending meetings and paying the occasional visit to her cousin.

Even so, there wasn’t any awkwardness between the Tonks women and Morgana whilst they waited for Harry to return.

Ted had opted to turn in for the night, the events of it having eft him feeling tired as the adrenaline had worn off.

He’d played his part perfectly, and now, wizarding Britain was already a much safer place without the Snatchers they had ridden the country of.

“Are they all dead?” Tonks asked.

“Yes.”

The metamorph snorted.

“You say it so casually.”

Morgana shrugged.

“Where we come from, killing is not so frowned upon if the circumstances call for it. Your laws are much different to ours. People are only thrown into prisons to await an execution, for the most part. We don’t have anything like you Aurors, or even an established justice system. There are those who try in each territory, but most crimes are dealt with between us. In some ways, it works better, but it often means the richest and most influential get their way.”

“It’s not so different here,” Andromeda said disapprovingly. “Gold and influence is the only reason so many of the Death Eaters managed to escape Azkaban last time. Maybe it will be different this time around.”

“It will be if they’re all dead,” Morgana pointed out.

Andromeda nodded and took a sip of the tea she’d been nursing for some time.

She seemed to be more resigned than upset, and Morgana remembered that Bellatrix was her sister.

How they had become so different, she didn’t know, but she wasn’t going to press the woman when she’d already endured quite the emotionally draining night.

Even so, Andromeda was one of the few people who might just have a much-needed insight of her older sister.

“Ah, Harry’s home.”

He entered the kitchen only a moment later, his brow furrowed as he poured himself a glass of Firewhiskey, seeming neither happy nor unhappy with how his own evening had progressed.

“Anything?” Morgana asked.

“Yes and no,” Harry sighed as he took a seat. “There’s not much Draco can do to help us, but we’re not out of options. We just need to be meticulous with what we do next, but if we are fortunate, the war might just be over sooner than we’d thought.”

“Then we can go home.”

Harry smiled at the thought as he nodded.

“We can go home,” he echoed, reaching across the table and taking her hand.

Andromeda Tonks cleared her throat, and Harry’s gaze shifted towards the woman.

“You have my apologies for the sudden upheaval,” he offered. “No harm has come to your home, and I have put protections in place to ensure it remains that way.”

Andromeda nodded.

“You know, I remember your father well. He was a pain in the backside. I once caught him trying to sabotage my shower so that it would cover me in Butterbeer, but he never caused as much trouble as you.”

She seemed to be somewhat amused by the memory, and Harry chuckled.

“I suppose I inherited that from him. Not that I’ve ever sabotaged anyone’s shower. Most of what I have done would not be considered a prank, but more of a harsh lesson.”

“I have heard the rumours, but I tend not to pass judgement on those who have done me a great service. I am not happy to be here, but enduring this place is a small price to pay to be reunited with my husband. Thank you, Harry Potter.”

She placed a kiss on his cheek before leaving the kitchen, and Harry shook his head confusedly.

“She’s a pureblood,” Tonks reminded him. “That’s their equivalent of a heartfelt thank you.”

Harry nodded.

“I had to stop myself cursing her,” he chuckled. “She looks so much like…”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Tonks warned. “She will not thank you for that. Most of the Black women look alike, but occasionally, a blonde is born into the line. Mum doesn’t know why that is, but it happened to Narcissa.”

“Strange,” Harry murmured. “I suppose underneath all that metamorph magic you look like your mother.”

Tonks nodded, and transformed only briefly before changing her hair, eyes and face shape to something more familiar to them.

“I think I’m going to get some sleep,” she declared as she made her way towards the kitchen door, seemingly quite shy about her natural appearance. “Thanks, Potter, for getting them back together.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry replied tiredly as he finished his Firewhiskey.

“Bed?” Morgana suggested.

“Soon,” Harry replied. “There is something I want to try before I sleep.”

Morgana merely nodded in response before following in Tonks’ footsteps, leaving Harry alone in the kitchen.

It had been a long night, and though he was exhausted and craved nothing more than his bed, he couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t something else he could experiment with.

(Break)

He did his utmost to control his trembling limbs, and though they were not as shaky as they had been upon taking his leave of Dumbledore’s office, Draco still felt the dread weighing heavily on his shoulders.

Perhaps he should be grateful that he’d been discovered, but the relief had been only momentary as another task, equally as daunting as the other, had been given to him.

The Dark Lord would kill him.

Draco did not doubt for a single moment that he was anything but dispensable to the man, and should he be caught doing what he knew he needed to, his life would be forfeit.

At least with Dumbledore, he had not feared being killed by the headmaster, though the same certainly could not be said for Potter.

No, just a single look in the eyes of his foe told Draco all he needed of Potter’s desire to kill him, and yet, he hadn’t.

No, he had, much to his surprise, given Draco a chance.

Why he would do so was lost on the Malfoy heir, but it was not the confusion he was focused on. Soon enough, he would need to find a courage within himself he wasn’t sure he was able to muster to retrieve his mother from the family home.

He swallowed deeply at the thought and released a deep breath as he entered the Slytherin common room.

He’d expected that the others would’ve already gone to bed, and most had, but one had chosen to wait for him.

“What did Dumbledore want?” Pansy whispered frantically.

She knew nothing of the task given to him by the Dark Lord.

Draco had done all he could to distance himself from her, from Theo, and Blaise this year, but Pansy would not relent in attempting to pursue a relationship with him.

Until the beginning of the summer before his fifth year, he’d resigned himself to the fact it was almost inevitable he would find himself married to her when they came of age.

His father was close enough to Lord Parkinson to broker such a deal, and there were few others that would be considered a suitable bride.

Draco had accepted that, and had even made considerable effort with the girl over the years with their future together in mind, but try as he might, he felt no affection for her beyond friendship.

Pansy wasn’t so unpleasant.

If anything, she would prove to be a loyal and tolerable wife, but it was not enough for Draco, not after he’d experienced what he had with another.

Astoria Greengrass.

Just the thought of the girl forced him to quell the smile that threatened to form on his lips.

He’d not intended to develop such feelings for her.

In truth, he’d done all he could to prevent it.

The relationship between his own family and Astoria’s was not favourable. Jonathan Greengrass would never agree to a match between them, but that had not stopped him and Astoria from trading furtive, flirty glances from across the common room, and even sharing the odd jape whilst passing one another.

Draco had wanted her.

Perhaps it was that he knew he couldn’t that spurred him on, but having snuck out on several occasions to meet with her, he quickly realised that was not so.

He’d been surprised when she’d found him atop the Astronomy Tower during his fifth year. Truly, Draco had expected her to ignore the note he’d slipped into her bag requesting she did so, and he’d arrived at his destination with no hope she would come.

She had.

He’d never felt so foolish when she did so, and yet, she immediately put him at ease with little more than a shy smile of her own.

They’d spent several hours there simply talking, and when they realised the sun was on the verge of rising, it already felt too soon for them to part.

They’d met again the next night, and the one after.

Draco had lost count how often they had done so, and now, she was gone.

He’d heard nothing from the girl since she and her family had been rumoured to be in hiding.

The terrible thought of her possible demise was something that had plagued him constantly, but just as he’d had no hope she would meet him atop the Astronomy Tower, he held onto a slither of it that he might just see her again when the war was done.

Before such a thing was possible, however, there was much to do.

“He wanted to talk to me about my work. I haven’t been submitting it all year, and he told me I’m on my last chance to get it done, or I won’t be able to sit my NEWTs.”

“He can’t do that!”

“He’s the headmaster,” Draco pointed out.

Pany opened her mouth to protest further, but he held up a hand to silence her.

“I need to sleep,” he sighed. “I suppose I have a lot to do starting in the morning.”

He stepped past the girl, only for her to grab his arm.

“I’ll help,” she offered.

Draco shook his head and fought the urge to grimace.

“No, I need to do this myself but thank you.”

With how frantic his thoughts were, he was surprised he managed to come up with such a useful excuse. Now, he would be able to distance her further, and any absence he may need to take in the near future could be explained away.

Not that it would matter if he was caught.

Even Bellatrix would kill him if she knew he was defying her master.

Shaking his head, Draco lifted his left sleeve and looked upon the mark he’d been branded with.

He’d been a damned fool, and this would mar his skin until his dying day, which could well come sooner than he was ready.

Unable to sleep, he drew the curtains around his bed before taking up a quill, some parchment, and a bottle of ink to write a letter.

She was unlikely to ever read it, but he needed to pen his thoughts, nonetheless.

It would be one less thing to burden him in the coming dark days, yet one thing he could hold onto when he needed to find the courage that yet eluded him.

(Break)

It was not often he dreamed so vividly.

Such things had escaped him when he’d been much younger, around the time he’d created his very first Horcrux, so to find himself in a place seemingly within his own mind was rather disconcerting.

It was the sound of flapping wings that caused him to draw his wand, and the Dark Lord looked on as bird came to rest in a tree that had not been there only a matter of seconds ago.

A crow.

Narrowing his eyes at his recent tormentor, he fired a spell, only for the bird to caw indignantly as it flew away.

He’d come to hate crows.

They unsettled him, and that would not do, though he found the cloaked figure that had materialised in place of the tree more so.

It said nothing as it seemed to scrutinise him, and the Dark Lord grew weary of the silence until another crow appeared and landed on its shoulder. It cawed almost mockingly, and the figure reached up with a bony finger to stroke its inky feathers.

“Shh, this is a place of silence.”

“What is this place?” the Dark Lord found himself asking.

“Nowhere,” the figure answered. “Perhaps it was somewhere before, but now, it lies as only a hollow, a shadow of what it had once been.”

Lord Voldemort frowned at the explanation.

He did not know this place, and yet, it felt somewhat familiar to him, though not in a way that brought him any comfort. If anything, it only made him more unsettled, and he wanted to leave.

“A hollow?” he asked, not conscious of the question passing his lips. “What hollow?”

The figure said nothing, but the response he received sent a shiver down his spine.

Laughter.

It wasn’t joyous nor even sinister, but it came from someone or something where sanity no longer prevailed. It chilled the blood in his veins, and as it grew louder, the Dark Lord could almost see another figure in the distance.

Although he could not distinguish any features, he could see a pair of green, glowing eyes in the shroud of darkness before him, and the rattling of chains along with the laughter.

Such things would not usually concern him so, but there were thins attached to those chains, things that were suffering, things that wished their tormentor would end their misery.

They were all but begging for Death to take him, and yet, the other figure did nothing of the sort.

“You did this,: it whispered accusingly. “You brought this here.”

“No,” the Dark Lord murmured. “I did nothing!”

The laughter continued, and the first figure walked away, vanishing into the shadows, but the second remained where it was, tormenting its captors gleefully.

“Even Death will not take me,” it mocked.

The Dark Lord took a step backwards as the figure took one towards him.

Still, he could see nothing save for those haunting eyes and then a set of white teeth as it smiled at him.

“NO!”

He woke in a pool of cold sweat, and immediately pushed himself to his feet, his breathing laboured as his grip tightened around his wand.

The dream had felt so real, and Lord Voldemort was certain he could still hear the laughter of the second figure ringing in his ears along with the pleas of its prisoners as they begged for Death to not leave them with him.

‘You did this!’

The words of the figure rang out in his mind, and the Dark Lord shook his head.

It had only been a dream, so, why did it persist in haunting him so when he’d woken from it?

(Break)

“What the bloody hell was that?” Harry whispered as he returned to his own mind.

He’d been curious to see if he was able to use the connection between himself and Tom to his advantage, but he had not expected to be part of such a troubling experience.

Death.

Death had been present in the Dark Lord’s mind, and so had something else, something somehow even more sinister.

What it was, Harry didn’t know, but it left him feeling considerably unsettled.

There was something rather familiar about the second figure, but not whatever it kept leashed on the thick chain as though it were a dog. No, he didn’t know what it was, but he had felt the fear of the Dark Lord as he’d looked upon it and the laughter had sounded.

Harry had never heard anything like it.

It was a humourless laughter, and one of a man who’d taken leave of his senses.

He shook his head as he pondered what had happened.

He hoped to see if he could still worm his way into Tom’s mind, and having done so, there was a part of him that wished he hadn’t. It almost felt as though he’d opened a door that he did not wish to see the other side of.

Thankfully, he had managed to withdraw without being hindered, and neither Death nor his odd companion had paid him any heed. Their focus had been on Riddle, and the Dark Lord had been as eager to escape them as Harry.

Not that he feared Death.

Having grown so close to the Peverells over the years, he had come to accept that it was merely a pat of life, but the other figure was not.

“What did you see?” Morgana asked.

“I have no idea,” Harry answered honestly. “None, whatsoever.”

He released a deep breath as he turned on his side to finally fall asleep, already compiling a list in his mind of all he needed to get done so that there was no delay in putting an end to Tom’s Horcruxes.

Already, he and Morgana had been away from home for too long, and in only a matter of moons, another year or two would’ve passed.

Not a day went by that he didn’t consider this or what they would return to, but Harry knew that the war against Tom was only just the beginning of all that required his attention.

Somewhere, the goblins were intent on rebelling, and he could not trust the Wizard’s Council, or any other to ensure the defeat of the beastly little creatures.

No, Tom needed to be killed sooner rather than later, lest there be nothing for Harry and his wife to return to.

(Break)

“She will come around,” Ted assured Sirius as Andromeda left the kitchen. “She spent more than a decade believing you to be a murderer. She just needs a little time.”

Sirius nodded, and in truth, he was pleased his cousin had left the kitchen.

Andromeda hadn’t been rude or even impolite, just thoughtful, and when it came to the Blacks, that wasn’t such a good thing.

“YOU! YOU DARE ENTER MY HOME, YOU FILTHY BLOOD-TRAITOR!”

“And there goes my mother,” Sirius groaned.

“Blood-Traitor? Grandfather warned you about following him, and look what happened,” Andromeda retorted. “You and your husband are dead, as is your precious Regulus. Both of my parents are dead, and Grandfather and Grandmother died ashamed of you all. The only traitor here is your, you old bitch!”

Sirius arrived in time to see his mother recoil as though she’d been slapped.

Had she still been alive, spells would be flying in the hallway of Grimmauld Place, but all she could do was glower at Andromeda, whose eyes had darkened in fury.

“I probably should’ve mentioned the portrait,” Sirius grumbled.

“That may have been a good idea,” Ted murmured, as Andromeda stormed up the nearby staircase.

Of course, the woman didn’t know the part Regulus had played in discovering what Riddle had been doing, and Sirius had not told his mother.

Her ranting and raving for days on end was not something he wished to be confronted with. Still, he should’ve told Andromeda about Walburga’s portrait.

He remembered his mother threatening seek out her niece and throttle her babe in her cot when she found her.

She had not followed through with the threat and had been rather subdued shortly after sending.

Sirius suspected his grandfather had intervened to prevent his mother from doing so, but it changed little.

The family had made their thoughts on Andromeda’s choice of spouse clear enough, and Sirius didn’t doubt that Walburga, and Andromeda’s own father would’ve killed the young woman had they managed to find her when she’d first fled more than twenty years prior.

(Break)

‘We will know when he is back,’ Salazar said comfortingly.

Helga nodded as she continued peering towards the lake in the distance.

‘It is not the same without him.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ Salazar sighed. ‘I miss them both, and with murmurings of war on the horizon, Britain will need them.’

‘Again.’

‘I fear it always will in some way,’ Salazar replied thoughtfully. ‘She is far from done with them yet.’

(Break)

“Do you not think this is hasty, Harry?” Albus asked as they stood before what remained of the Gaunt family home.

“Usually, I would,” Harry replied thoughtfully, “but I think the longer we wait, the more he is going to be expecting something. If we act now, we might just catch him off guard enough for him to make a mistake. If we give him too long to consider all eventualities, it could be to our own detriment. Besides, Draco will not hold his nerve long. He is a wreck, and it can only serve us best if we can create chaos for him. He has the Ministry, Albus.”

“And also two other Horcruxes still in his possession,” Albus pointed out.

Harry conceded the point with a nod.

“One, if we are correct in our belief that one is within Gringotts.”

Albus had come to believe such was the case. Bellatrix had nowhere else so secure to hide it, if indeed she had been entrusted with one, and she had not expected to be apprehended when she had.

No, she would’ve ensured the Horcrux was immediately placed somewhere all but impossible to reach for anyone but herself.

Gringotts was the only option.

She would not risk any happening upon something entrusted to her by the Dark Lord, and the goblins would have no interest in it themselves.

“We could send an emissary to the goblins,” Albus suggested. “Jonathan Greengrass has an exceptional relationship with them.”

Harry shook his head as he continued to watch the shack closely.

“No wizard has an exceptional relationship with the goblins. They despise us, and that will never change so long as they are beholden to us. Besides, Greengrass is in hiding. I doubt he would come out of it short of learning of the end of the war.”

Albus nodded his agreement.

“Morgana is already in the bank, waiting for Bellatrix to arrive.”

“And if she does not?”

“Then we have played our hand and Tom will be considerably more careful.”

“That will hinder us, Harry.”

“And doing nothing will only result in more people dying. We are not going to find the other Horcruxes any other way, Albus. It may seem drastic, but it is our best shot.”

Harry was right.

Although it appeared as though they were not quite ready to make such a bold move, their options were limited. No matter what they chose to do, it would indeed be risky, but it was better to act now in the hope they might just save lives that would inevitably be lost when Tom grew even bolder in his advantageous position.

They needed to lure him out, to give him a reason to panic, and taking away his most prized possessions, albeit not all of them, would certainly spur him into actions of his own.

“Then let us proceed,” Albus sighed, drawing his wand and gesturing for Harry to take the lead.

(Break)

She never had become of turning into insects, but it was a most useful skill to possess, and though Morgana felt rather vulnerable amongst the goblins as an ant, she hoped her vigil here would be worth the inconvenience.

Thus far, all had been quiet within the bank.

Only a few late-night revellers had arrived to withdraw some gold from their vaults, and the goblins seemed to use the quieter hours to tend to the stacks of parchment placed on each of the desks.

Gringotts seemingly never slept, and nor would Morgana until she either got word from Harry or Bellatrix arrived to retrieve a certain something from her vault.

Morgana hoped for the latter.

What they would do if their thoughts on where the Horcrux was proved to be wrong, she didn’t know, but she suspected that Harry’s priority would shift to simply destroying the body that Riddle was occupying.

The Horcruxes could always be destroyed after the fact, even if doing so would be no easy task.

At the very least, Britain would be all but free of the Dark Lord’s tyranny.

Still, she remained hopeful their plan would bear the rotten fruit they intended to pick.

The war had gone on long enough, after all.

(Break)

Feeling any measure of concern was not something he’d experienced for quite some time. Oh, the odd dream he’d found himself a part of had been troubling, but it had merely been just a figment of his imagination, well, he’d convinced himself of such, at the very least.

Now, however, what he was experiencing was little more than a nightmare, and as he watched what remained of the Gaunt family home burning to ashes, the fear that gripped him was undeniable.

Someone had discovered his secret and had taken one of his Horcruxes.

The Dark Lord swallowed deeply as he hurriedly ponder just how such a thing had come to be, but it was difficult to remain calm whilst he did so.

For the first time in many years, he truly felt vulnerable but did his utmost to reassure himself that all was well.

This one was indeed gone, but there were many others which could not have been discovered, could they?

That very thought brought on a new wave of dread, and instead of watching where his mother had grown up continue to smoulder, he apparated away.

He needed to be certain the others were safe, and though at least one was currently unreachable to him, the others were not.

No, this was not something he could ignore even for a moment.

The Dark Lord needed to know just how deeply this assault on his mortality went, and just how much danger he was in.

Losing one of his Horcruxes was a disaster in itself, but losing more was a thought he simply could not bear.

No, he needed them close, needed to see that they remained intact before he could breathe freely once more.