Avalon - Chapter 69 - The Goblins

The Goblins

“Are you certain about this, Harry?” Albus asked. “The goblins, as compliant as they are when it comes to our finances, hold little care for our difficulties.”

“I know,” Harry assured the man, “but there is no harm meeting with them to discuss their proposition. I do not believe they would reach out readily. They are prideful and distrustful of us, so I can only assume they are as keen as they are desperate.”

He hoped that was their reasoning.

They had agreed to meet at Hogwarts readily enough and had not attempted to negotiate Harry’s terms to do so.

Either they were indeed as keen as he believed, or something else entirely was afoot.

Was it possible Morgana had been spotted in the bowels of the bank?

It could be so, but Harry did not know why the goblins would reach out to him if it was.

Albus hummed thoughtfully.

“I cannot think of any time in History, save for times of war against one another, that a parlay has been called between humans and goblins.”

“I expect there isn’t an instance,” Harry murmured.

Even at home, the goblins were preparing to go to war with their counterparts and would do so with the intent of subjugating humans to their laws and demands.

There was now nor ever had there been any love lost between them, and Harry would not forget that.

As useful as the little creatures may prove to be, he knew that deep down, they only wished to serve their own agenda.

He frowned as he continued to ponder that very thought but was pulled from his reverie as a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in, Argus,” Albus permitted.

The cantankerous caretaker entered with three goblins in tow, one of them being familiar to Harry from his very first trip to Gringotts.

“The goblins of Gringotts, Headmaster,” Filch introduced them.

Harry watched the trio as they climbed into the seats that had been conjured for them, and though he did not wish to be hostile, he was not fooled by the affable greetings they shared with Dumbledore.

“I am Barchoke,” the one in the middle seat introduced himself. “Currently, I am the leader of our kind in Britain. My associates are Griphook, our new Head Teller, and Grimrod, the leader of our forces.”

Harry offered them a nod in turn.

“You all know who we are. You wrote to me, and Professor Dumbledore is here to sit in and offer his own input on anything we discuss,” he replied. “Griphook, I hope you are well.”

“As well as can be under the circumstances, Mr Potter,” the goblin sighed.

Harry nodded his understanding.

“What is it you know of the incident that took place in the bank just a week ago?” Barchoke asked without further preamble.

“Very little,” Harry answered. “There are rumours, of course, but I pay little mind to such things.”

He didn’t want the goblins to know what he already knew, and this was also an assessment of their honesty. If they were not forthcoming with the truth, he would offer no assistance to them.

“Indeed,” Barchoke said grimly. “Well, a customer arrived, I should now say former customer,” he added with a frown, “to retrieve something from her vault, during which, a disturbance was detected. The former customer drew her wand, and a rather violent incident followed resulting in her death, but also the death of several of our kind. At some point during the altercation, one of our dragons was freed, and escaped from the bank. We are yet to recover it, and given the damage caused, are unable to ascertain what truly happened beyond the fighting. Our most pressing concern, however, is what happened afterwards.”

“What happened afterwards?” Harry pressed.

Barchoke growled in response as he bared his pointed teeth.

“Whilst our former customer was being brought to justice, we were set upon by a man you are very familiar with, Mr Potter.”

“Voldemort.”

“Indeed. He and his followers killed almost thirty of our kind before we were able to expel them from the bank, and our doors have been closed to the public since. They will not open again until the Ministry of Magic is no longer in his control.”

“Which would be a declaration of war on your part,” Harry pointed out. “You will be found guilty of withholding gold and access to finances of witches and wizards.”

Barchoke leaned back in his chair and eyes Harry interestedly.

“You understand the treaties,” he praised.

“I do, and as I hold no finances within your bank, it matters little to me, but you came here for a reason other than to inform me of your breach of the treaties your ancestors signed.”

“We did,” Barchoke confirmed. “Our kind has been intruded upon, and the peace between us broken because of one of your kind. Now, there are those among us who would see us declare war against all of you, but that does not have to be so.”

“Then what is your proposition?” Harry asked.

“That we create a temporary alliance between ourselves and you, Mr Potter,” Griphook interjected. “It is no secret that you are the one doing his utmost to bring him to justice. We only ask that you allow us to be a part of it, for those we lost, and to mend the damage caused between goblins and humans by the Dark Lord.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully.

“What are your terms?”

“Only that the alliance will end when the Dark Lord is dead and we return to all previous agreements as set by the goblins of Gringotts, and the Ministry of Magic.”

Harry looked towards Dumbledore who nodded.

“That seems fair and beneficial to both parties,” the man commented.

“Then perhaps we have reached an accord,” Harry mused aloud. “I know where he is hiding, but finding it is all but impossible. If you have a way of locating Malfoy Manor, it would be most useful.”

Barchoke grinned.

“We can find it, Harry Potter. It may take some time, but we have our ways. It would be most useful to us if we had a member of the family willing to cooperate, however.”

That meant they would likely need blood or magic that only Draco could provide.

It would not be so easy to convince him to cooperate, but Harry was certain he could manage it.

“You will have it,” Harry assured the goblin. “Perhaps we should both speak with the one person who can help us together. He will want assurances from us both before he agrees.”

Barchoke nodded.

“Of course, “he complied. Then we should begin soon. It will not be easy, but it will be done. I will begin preparing our forces.”

“They are to be instructed not to engage the Dark Lord. There is magic at play that would only see them killed. It has to be me that finishes him.”

“If such a thing is currently possible,” Barchoke murmured with a frown. “Are you aware of what was being retrieved by our former customer?”

Harry shook his head, and the goblin chuckled.

“A Horcrux, Mr Potter,” he said almost amusedly as he leaned forward, “but you do not seem so surprised.”

“I’m not,” Harry sighed. “What became of it?”

“Likely destroyed by dragon fire during the altercation,” Barchoke answered. “It was not found on our former customer, and it was not retrieved by the Dark Lord. I suppose that all that matters is that it is not in his possession.”

Hary nodded his agreement.

“So long as he is dead, it doesn’t matter.”

Barchoke grinned and extended his hand.

“I look forward to working you on resolving this matter, Mr Potter.”

Harry accepted the proffered limb.

It was indeed a temporary arrangement at best, and though he did not like it, he could not deny that the goblins would prove to be useful if they could find Malfoy Manor for him.

For now, however, after he had spoken with Draco and Narcissa, his focus was firmly on retaking the Ministry of Magic. Doing so was paramount and would remove the stain of Riddle’s influence he held of Britain.

Not that having access to the goblins and how they operated wouldn’t be useful.

(Break)

He looked around at the devastation of the Malfoy home, his nostrils flaring in a mixture of anger and confusion. Every last room had been turned upside-down in search of the diary, but there was no sign of it.

Even in the eight hidden rooms dotted around the property, there had been nothing, and the Dark Lord found himself at a loss as to what had happened to it.

Had Lucius truly been trying to flee when Barty had come across him fleeing the manor, or was he merely leaving to fetch the diary as promised?

If that was so, it meant that the Horcrux was not here at all, and now, it was lost to the Dark Lord.

He cursed under his breath as he banished a pile of debris, taking a seat by the unlit fire in what had been Lucius’s bedroom.

With Bella and Lucius undoubtedly dead, he’d lost two of his soul pieces.

Whether the goblins were in possession of one now mattered little when they had repelled him and the Death Eaters from the bank.

Crouch was searching for Pettigrew in the hopes the man had either been unsuccessful in gaining entry to Hogwarts and fled like the coward he was, or he was still attempting to retrieve the Horcrux.

He’d been gone for several days now without a word, leaving the Dark Lord to frantically search Malfoy Manor, which was now all but unliveable.

No brick had been left undisturbed, but it would be fixed soon enough whilst a further search of the remains was made.

The manor remained secure, and much effort had been made to make it so.

Potter nor any member of the Ministry enter without his knowledge, and the same could not be said for the alternative.

The home of his muggle family was indeed protected, but not well enough that the Dark Lord had confidence in its holding out against a sustained attack.

Making the land around it unplottable would be an arduous and drawn-out task in itself, and one that seemed superfluous given the security Malfoy Manor provided.

Lord Voldemort released a deep breath in an attempt to calm his warring thoughts.

It had been a dreadful week where much had gone wrong.

It would take considerable effort on his part to recoup his losses, and that was without considering the state of his Horcruxes.

Making more was no longer an option.

Gifting a fragment of his soul to Nagini had been a most taxing experience and not one he could repeat.

In truth, it had almost torn what remained of his soul asunder, and the Dark Lord knew not to push his luck further.

Even so, despite the setbacks, he remained confident he would win the war.

The Ministry still belonged to him, and he was safe within these walls for as long as he needed to swell his numbers and prepare for another push to bring Britain to heel.

Patience.

Although it was not easy to exercise such restraint, if any time called for it, it was now.

(Break)

“I don’t like it,” Rufus murmured, a deep frown marring his features. “It should be us leading the charge against him, Amelia, not Potter.”

“it is a sound plan, Rufus,” Amelia reiterated. “Potter has the skill to bring down the protections to give us a run at taking the Ministry back. If we were to do it ourselves, we would lose several Aurors in the process. It’s not as though we won’t be there when it matters.”

Rufus huffed irritably.

“And how will that look?” he asked. “How will it look to the public that one of them had to do what we couldn’t? Would you have faith in that establishment?”

“I would have faith they knew when they were out of their depth and sought help when it was needed.”

Rufus snorted as he shook his head.

“You don’t believe that,” he denied. “Potter was never supposed to be a leader in this war. If I was made Minister…”

He broke off and shook his head once more.

“If you were made Minister?” Amelia questioned. “Go on, I am interested to hear this.”

“If I was made Minister, Potter would’ve been banned from going anywhere near this. He would’ve been merely a figure for the public to be inspired by. He would come in to the Ministry from time to time, shake my hand, allow the public to see him, but he would be kept well out of it, even if I had to arrest him.”

Amelia frowned at her subordinate.

“You cannot possibly think we would’ve had half the success he has,” she said heatedly. “The only thing that would’ve been achieved would be more deaths of our Aurors, Rufus. You may not like it, but it is Potter who has fought this war, who has risked his life in a bid to end it. You would’ve used him as your bloody golden boy? I would’ve quite liked to see you try that with him. Potter would’ve told you to get stuffed, and I would’ve agreed with him. Who else do you know that has the ability to defeat him? You do remember the night we learned the Dark lord was back, don’t you? You saw the state of the Ministry. In case you forgot, it was Potter that rescued me and Susan from our burning home when he came for us. The Aurors couldn’t reach me, but Potter did.”

“We would’ve found a way,” Rufus said dismissively.

Amelia couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

Was he truly so ignorant?

“No, Rufus, you wouldn’t have. Both me and Susan would be dead now if it wasn’t for Potter, as would many others. He fought him off at Hogwarts. Would you have been able to?”

“I would’ve died trying!”

“You would’ve,” Amelia agreed, “but Potter did it without that need. I think you really need to have a long think about what your priorities are, Rufus. Does it hurt your pride that he has done so much?”

“That has nothing to do with it!”

It did.

Amelia could see that being kept away for so long for his own safety had done the man no favours, but her biggest concern was the plans he’d revealed he’d had for Harry if he had become Minister.

It was troubling to say the least, and she could not help but think that Harry had been right when he’d suggested she take the post instead.

It was not something she would covet, but Amelia Bones had seen a side to her colleague she did not like, and she could not deny she’d lost more than a little respect for Rufus Scrimgeour.

(Break)

A grim mood had set over Camelot.

Most would not notice it, but those that spent enough time with the king could not miss it. Myrddin often found himself longing for the days that Arthur was a blissfully ignorant boy, unaware of what was to come. Perhaps then he would not take everything to heart as he was now wont to, and maybe he would be just that little happier.

Not a day went by that visitors did not arrive at the castle to seek the counsel of their king, and not a day went by that Arthur didn’t retire, decidedly exhausted and unhappy with his life.

Oh, he did not neglect his duties to his people.

If anything, he went above and beyond to ensure he was at their disposal, but Myrddin suspected he only did so to avoid whatever else bothered him so.

The distance between the king and queen had been noted, and though Arthur had seemingly yet to notice the closeness between his friend and his wife, he kept the woman away from him all the same.

At the very least, the man harboured suspicions, even if he had not acknowledged the truth of what was happening around him.

For his part, Lancelot did not seem to be coping so well with the infidelity himself, and yet, he continued to visit Guinevere regularly.

Their betrayal had gone too deep to remedy it now, and Myrddin suspected it would only be a matter of time before the king could no longer ignore it.

Lancelot would inevitably be put to death, and the queen…

Myrddin did not know what Arthur would do with the woman.

Maybe he would simply banish her back to her own lands, likely igniting another war, but only a fool would stand against Arthur with the power he wielded.

Nonetheless, Guinevere’s father would not be able to accept the slight, even if his daughter was in the wrong.

It was only a matter of time after all, and with the continued whispers of an impending uprising from the goblins only growing louder, Myrddin did not doubt a war was coming no matter what the king did.

If he was so inclined, maybe he would have been able to put an end to such an occurrence before it even begun, but Arthur had all but ignored Myrddin this past year. He no longer sought his advice, and the man was no better off for it.

When it came to the affairs of muggles, it appeared as though the king was confident enough that he no longer needed assistance to navigate them, but that would inevitably change when the goblins surfaced.

It would be Myrddin Arthur looked to for advice, just as it should always have been.

He shook his head as he continued to watch the storm from the battlements.

It wasn’t as violent nor charged as the one that remained firmly at the forefront of his mind from more than a decade ago, but this was a turbulent one; an omen and reminder that the Strom-bringer was still out there.

Potter had been absent for several years now, and yet, Myrddin knew he was not truly gone.

No, he was still out there somewhere, and the warning from the stars was something Myrddin had never forgotten.

He would return.

When that would be, Myrddin did not know, but he had no doubt that such a man would not simply fade into obscurity never to be seen again.

One day, and sooner than he’d like if the storm was anything to go by, Potter would once more grace them with his presence. For what purpose, Myrddin did not know, but when it came to the elusive man, he did not expect it would be anything good.

Despite the king’s own disposition, Britain was in a good place, and Potter would only return when that was not so, or if he was the cause of it.

Such thoughts brought a frown to Myrddin, and as a bolt of lightning collided with a tree at the edge of the forest, setting it aflame, he could not help but think that his thoughts on the matter were truer than he’d care to admit.

(Break)

Draco frowned unhappily as Harry explained the deal he had brokered with the goblins.

“You will be safe,” Harry reiterated. “I can assure you that you will not be left alone with them, nor will you have to do any fighting. I will even provide a portkey that will bring you directly back to the gates of the school if anything goes awry.”

Draco released a deep breath as he looked towards his mother.

“It is your choice, Draco,” she murmured. “You are the Lord of the family now.”

“I hadn’t even thought of that,” the blond murmured. “Is there no other way?”

Harry shook his head.

“I do not think so. Unless we can get him to leave your home by compromising the security, he might just find a way to bolster his forces. I will not divulge my own plans to you, but his position is weaker now than it will ever be. We must act now. You will have your home returned to you.”

“Not if you and him come to blows there,” Draco snorted. “Look what happened to Bones Manor.”

“He will flee before that happens. If he is caught off guard and has no advantage, he will not fight.”

Draco dragged a hand through his hair.

“What will I need to do?”

“I am unsure,” Harry answered honestly, “but I suspect you will only need to be present to provide blood and magic if and when the goblins need it. Barchoke will explain fully when he arrives.”

Draco remained unconvinced.

“I will hear what the goblin has to say,” he agreed tentatively.

Harry nodded appreciatively, and though he understood his reticence to work with the creatures, he believed it was the best option for all involved.

The goblins would get to play their part in the justice they sought, and Harry would at the very least be able to remove Riddle from a place exceedingly difficult to reach him.

Where he would go from there was uncertain, but there were very few places as well-protected as Malfoy Manor he would be able to flee, if he chose such a tact.

Perhaps he might decide to stand his ground and attempt to fight Harry off, but it was not so likely, not unless her had an advantage he could use against him.

No, Harry suspected he would not like being caught unaware, and instead of taking a risk, something he would certainly be unwilling to do given all that had befallen him recently, he would not take his chances.

Riddle would be more inclined to take his leave of the Malfoy home, even if he had nowhere else he could go that was so established.

(Break)

“Are you certain about working with them?” Morgana asked, a deep frown marring her features.

She did not like it.

Goblins were among the most untrustworthy of creatures.

“No,” Harry snorted, “but they can be of use to us in more ways than one. If they can get through the protections, it will bring Tom out into the open, and we have the unique opportunity of seeing how they work. We may need that knowledge for when we return home.”

Morgana nodded her agreement.

“I’ll do it,” she agreed. “I\ll watch over the little shit.”

It was all truly beginning to feel so final, that soon enough, Riddle would be dead, leaving her and Harry able to return home where they belonged. There was a part of her that would miss this place, but not in the same way she missed the life they had left behind.

They had been married for several years now, and though more wars would come and go, Morgana was keen to begin living as a husband and wife should.

Until she’d met Harry, she’d never considered that she might have children, and even be content as a wife, but now, that was all she craved. She could not wait to feel her belly swell with their children, nor the look of pride of her husband as he held it for the first time.

Little else occupied her thoughts, other than the end of the man who had haunted Harry for too long now.

It was the sound of his voice from the kitchen below that saw her leaving their room, and she came upon him, Andromeda. Sirius, and Remus, the latter two men severe but somehow happy.

“I wanted to tell you sooner, but I’ve not been around much,” Harry sighed.

“Did he suffer?” Sirius asked.

Harry nodded.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he said darkly. “Death will not treat him so kindly either.”

Sirius frowned before standing and pulling Harry into a tight embrace.

“Good,” he murmured, “but won’t that make my trial a little difficult?”

Harry shook his head.

“No, you will only need to provide your testimony under Veritaserum,” he explained. “I already discussed it with Bones. I’m close to convincing her to take the Minister’s position rather than Scrimgeour. I don’t think he’d be so bad, but there’s something not right about him. Anyway, we will be moving on the Ministry soon enough. We need to take it before Riddle realises what is happening at Malfoy’s place. I just need to know if there are any other of his followers I should be wary of. Lucius and Bella are both gone, and Wormtail is dead. I know of Crouch…”

“Rookwood, if he isn’t already dead,” Remus broke in thoughtfully. “He used to be an Unspeakable.”

Harry hummed.

“Then why isn’t he at the Ministry attempting to get into the Department of Mysteries?”

Remus shrugged.

“I don’t expect it is a priority for Riddle. Without the prophecy being there, there’s probably not much else he could want.”

Harry nodded uncertainly but evidently decided Remus was probably right.

“I just don’t want to leave anything neglected. This has to all be done meticulously, and taking the Ministry back is our first priority. Without it, Riddle will have nothing and nowhere to run to that I won’t be able to find him.”

“You know, most would think you mad for wanting to face him,” Andromeda interjected. “How is it that you are older than you should be?” she added.

“That’s a long bloody story,” Sirius snorted. “Believe me, I still don’t understand it myself.”

The woman eyed Harry curiously before nodding.

“You really do look like your father,” she mused aloud as she stood. “As much of a pain he could be, he didn’t deserve what happened to him. Neither of them did, but they’d be proud of you.”

She left the room and Morgana quirked an eyebrow at her husband.

“She was going to give you quite the talking to if she’d seen you sooner,’ she revealed.

Sirius grinned at the thought.

“She was,” he confirmed, “but Andi is alright. It’s me that got it in the neck from her. So, when is all this happening?”

“It’ already is,” Harry murmured. “Draco will be collected from the goblins shortly, so you should go to him. He’s waiting.”

“What about you?”

“I have something to keep me occupied,” Hary replied ominously.

He himself had been busy these evenings, and not just planning with Draco and the goblins’ excursion.

Whatever it was, he was keeping quiet, but Morgana knew her husband was not wasting his time.

Pressing a kiss on Hary’s lips, she readied herself to take her leave of Grimmauld Place, pleased to be back within the confines of the Hogwarts grounds when she arrived, but no less eager to return home.

“Soon,” she reiterated to herself for the umpteenth time, still feeling that such a moment was drawing nearer.

(Break)

Despite it being a rather ludicrously large abode, the Malfoy home had never felt so empty. Until recently, the home had been full of Snatchers, werewolves, and the Dark Lord’s inner circle.

Now, all but a few remained.

With Bella and Lucius dead, the skulking Wormtail missing, and Barty gone, none had deigned him with their company.

Not that Lord Voldemort craved such, but he could not deny that the manor was eerily silent now.

Even so, he frowned as one of the men occupying thoughts entered the parlour and shook his head.

“He was there, my lord, but not any longer,” Barty explained. “I caught his trail on the outskirts of the village, and it vanished into the castle. There was no sign that he returned.”

“So, it is likely he has been caught,” the Dark Lord mused aloud, the sense of dread plaguing him only becoming more cumbersome.

Pettigrew would have told all upon being captured.

The rat did not have the courage or strength of mind and body to resist any measure of interrogation, and if he found himself in Potter’s custody…

He shook his head, not wanting to imagine what little Wormtail had endured before handing over the diadem, leaving him only with Nagini playing host to a part of his soul.

How had it all gone so wrong?

How had his secret been discovered so easily?

Had he been so predictable?

No, great effort would’ve gone into not only discovering the secret, but finding and retrieving the Horcruxes was another series of tasks unto itself. Only those of incredible magical acumen would’ve managed it, not only once, but several times without being killed.

Potter and Dumbledore.

One or both of them certainly had the ability to do so, but it did not explain how they had discovered he had created them.

Slughorn could certainly have shared it, but the Dark Lord did not believe it to be so simple. No, it was likely his secret was discovered before his former Head of House revealed how many he intended to make, which meant that one of them had been discovered before the fact.

He remembered the night he’d made his enquiries with the Potions Master.

It had been a foolish thing to mention to any, even one he believed him to be merely curious.

It had been a mistake on his part, and one he was suffering for now.

Nodding, he sunk into a nearby armchair and rested his chin in his hands.

Was there something in the prophecy he still did not know the contents of?

“Barty, would you send for Augustus for me?”

“Of course, my lord,” Barty complied, offering him a bow before taking his leave of the room, not commenting on the state the house was currently in.

There was still no sign of the diary.

Out of desperation, the Dark Lord had searched every room another dozen times, again to no avail, leaving him wondering if it was out there somewhere, or if like the others, it had been destroyed.

He released a deep breath as he stood.

It was as though fate was either testing him, or Potter truly had him by the throat and his grip was slowly closing.

Even living through the blitz of the muggles during the 1940s, he’d never felt so vulnerable.

Still, he yet breathed, and whilst blood still flowed through his veins, he’d not been bested yet. No, he would not continue lamenting his losses, not when he and Potter still had yet faced one another on equal footing.

The Dark Lord suspected that time would come soon enough, and that was what he needed to be prepared for.

It wasn’t as though he could fight fate, after all.

Even if he tried to avoid what was to come, somehow, a showdown with the-boy-who-lived was inevitable.

Fate would find a way to bring them together, and Lord Voldemort had never fled from a fight.

(Break)

“This is it,” Draco confirmed, looking around confusedly.

“It is hidden,” one of the six goblins accompanying him growled, “but it is here I can feel the magic. It won’t be easy to get through it, but we will manage. For now, I will need some of your blood. As Lord of the Manor, it still belongs to you, no matter who is occupying it.”

Draco nodded and drew his wand across the palm of his hand.

The goblin collected a substantial amount of the viscous fluid in a phial before holding it up towards the moonlight to inspect. Upon doing so, he nodded satisfactorily and began mumbling in an incoherent language to his companions.

One of them stepped forward and removed some kind of helmet from within a trunk he was carrying.

“You must wear this, Lord Malfoy,” he instructed. “Our magic is our own and cannot be shared with humans. Our lives will be forfeit if any of our kind harm you during the duration of our work, as per the contract we signed.”

Draco was not happy with the request, but he complied, evidently blinding and deafening himself to the following conversation, once more carried out in the goblin’s own tongue.

Morgana could not understand what was being said, but she looked on curiously as the creatures removed several crystals each.

They began taking it in turns, chanting whilst they cast their magic, and Morgana frowned.

Strictly speaking, what they carried were not wands, but they acted almost identically.

She suspected the Ministry of Magic would be displeased if they were to learn of this method they’d used to navigate around the treaties the goblins had signed, but it mattered little to her.

For now, they were working to benefit her own efforts, and she watched closely as they went about her work.

Although she could not understand the words they spoke, she could see the frustration in their eyes, as they seemingly failed time and again to achieve what they’d come for.

What must have been hours quickly went by, and despite the incoherent conversations passing between the creatures between their work, she’d learned a thing or two about their magic.

The crystals themselves were no substitute for a wand, but they were dangerous in their own way.

Still, although the goblins had tried many things to weave their way through the protections around Malfoy Manor, and doing so as carefully as they could, they seemed to have made little progress as the sun began to rise.

Draco had fallen asleep at some time during the night, and he was shaken roughly awake by his companions.

“Is it done?” he asked hoarsely as he removed the helmet.

The goblin that woke him shook his head.

“No, we must return again tonight,” he explained tiredly. “Do not worry, Lord Malfoy, we will find a way in.”

Draco nodded sleepily.

“I will meet you here at the same time,” he assured them, yawning before activating his portkey.

Upon arriving at the gates of Hogwarts, Morgana reverted back to her human form and stretched, groaning from her many hours as an insect.

“Did you get what you needed?” Draco asked.

“For now,” Morgana agreed. “I will return this evening. There is still much to learn about them.”

Draco speared to be confused as to why she was so willing to spend so long in their company but knew better than to press her for information.

The goblins here were not truly a threat to the magicals, but back home was another matter entirely.

Soon enough, she and Harry would be back there, and if the nasty little creatures did indeed decide to incite war, they would need to be ready to face them, using whatever weaknesses against they could find.

Arriving back in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, she found Harry waiting for her return, and he offered her a smile.

“Productive evening?” he asked.

Morgana nodded as she slid into his lap.

“You?”

“Very,” he replied with a smile. “I think we are ready to take it.”

“You’ve been at the Ministry?”

“I have,” Harry confirmed, “and I just finished something that will be invaluable to us.”

He retrieved a piece of parchment from within his robes and tapped it with his wand.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” he incanted.

Morgana’s eyes widened as ink formed into a layout of the Ministry of Magic, each floor of the building swarming with people represented by a dot with each labelled with their names.

“You replicated it?” she whispered as she took the map to get a closer look.

She had been in awe of the Marauder’s Map when Harry had shown her, and despite the brilliance of Harry’s father, godfather, and two friends, the one of the Ministry was even more impressive.

“Tomorrow,” he announced. “We will take it from him tomorrow.”