The Veiled Vestiges

Disclaimer – This is a work of purely speculative fiction. It is not intended to infringe on any rights by and of the companies and/or individuals involved in the production of any series mentioned here. The characters involved are the intellectual property of their respective authors/creators except for the ones that are listed as an OC, which are mine.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Chapter 9

Carpe diem – seize the cheque &...sors? part-2

"Are you sure you have the right one?" a voice asked.

"Yes," replied the second.

"Really?" the voice asked sceptically. "I thought you had just met the woman. How can you be so sure she didn't just take whatever you offered her and gave you, oh, I don't know umm…her dog's hair?"

"Because A, she doesn't have a dog and B, I have done some business with her in the past. We can trust her."

"What business?"

"Sirius! Would you just man up and drink the damn potion already? You have been whining about this for an hour now!" Harry exclaimed.

"I am not whining, Harold! It's a valid concern. I have no wish to be stuck as a chihuahua for merlin knows how long!" cried Sirius.

"You are not going to be stuck as a chihuahua, Sirius," Harry said, all but rolling his eyes at the man. "Even if she did give us the wrong thing," he held up a hand to stall the, no doubt, oncoming protest, "which she hasn't, we would just be stuck in those forms for a week. Two at most…" He paused and looked into the distance as if he was actually considering his idea before he looked at Sirius again. "Actually, you know what? You're right. We should be cautious." He stopped pouring his glass with the potion and slid the ladle towards Sirius.

"…"

"…"

"I am not going first!" Sirius said, jumping away from the cauldron and waving his hands.

"It was your idea, Sirius. I am just agreeing with you," Harry smirked, seeing his godfather trying to inch away towards the door.

"I am not taking the potion first, Harold," Sirius repeated firmly, still trying to get out of the kid-wizard's wand range. Since acquiring his match, Harold was getting way too handsy with his wand. Just last night, he had been treated to a very snappy stinging hex right on his bum just for not flushing the loo. "It was a bitch to heal too," he thought, remembering another gentle reminder he had received while trying to sit on the toilet seat, the previous morning.

"Alright. Tell you what? Let's do it together. How's that?" Harry relented.

Sirius looked at him suspiciously. "Suuure. Let's," Sirius replied, pouring a hefty fill in his glass.

"On three then." Harry offered. "One. Two. Three. Cheers!"

"…"

"I knew you wouldn't drink it, you bastard!" Sirius exclaimed pointing his finger at Harold when he stopped the glass before it touched his lips.

"Oh, fuck you, Sirius," Harry waved his still filled glass around. Seeing that the man was still standing there sniffing at the potion and looking at him adamantly, he sighed." Alright…Alright… I'll do it, you damned coward." After adding a few hairs of his target and with a straight swig, Harry gulped down the whole glass in one go. He knew better than to let the potion linger on his tongue. The foul taste tended to stay in the mouth far longer than its effects did.

As he took a look at him, he saw his godfather had at least gathered enough courage to take a generous gulp of the potion and was grimacing at the taste the same as he was.

A sudden belching feeling made Harry grab his stomach and he took a knee. The queasy feeling came just as expected and nausea made him want to hurl the foul concoction just to make the feeling go away. He had taken this potion many times in his life. He had thought that by now he might have gained some sort of immunity to its effects. He was not pleased to realise that his assumption had been incorrect.

Just as he felt the bones in his hands start to shift, he knew, the transformation had started.

Gritting his teeth in more than a little pain, he chanced another look at his godfather. The man was grabbing his stomach the same as he was. Sirius was trying his damned best to keep the potion inside. When Harry saw him looking at his hands weirdly, he understood his form must have started to shift just like his own.

A couple of minutes passed before the effects of the potion completed.

Breathing a sigh of relief, both of them looked at each other. The whole thing was a bitch and a half. Both were coated with a slight sheen of sweat as they completed their transformations. With heaving breaths and sharp pain, they both waved their wands to dry themselves and remove the odour.

Sirius was the first one to recover from the bout of pain. "Well, at least she didn't rip you off. You look just the right amount of crazy killer I'd need my sidekick to be."

"Yeah…You as well, Boss," Harry replied, breathing heavily. "We'd have to modulate our voices though. I can't very well go there sounding like I take helium shots on a daily basis. So do you actually. You talk a bit more sophisticated than you might think, Sirius," Harry replied trying to get the murky taste off his tongue while trying to remove the now, too-tight underwear off of himself and moving behind the couch to hide his modesty.

"Is that your way of saying that I sound like a snooty chauvinist, Harold?" Sirius asked as he attempted to transfigure his robes into something suitable for their dalliance.

"Well, you are still nothing compared to your brother-in-law. So, that's a point in your favour. You won't get that point today though. Today, I need you to channel your inner Lucy." Harry quipped having finally gotten rid of the torn briefs and conjured himself some clothes. The large body was throwing him off his balance. It was not as easy as he had hoped it would be. It would definitely take a while to adjust to that. While Sirius had the experience of already being in an adult body before taking the potion, he, did not.

"I swear if I didn't like you, I would have cursed you black and blue for that. 'Channel my inner lucy'. I don't have a damn inner Lucy." Sirius mumbled under his breath. He was only half-listening to the kid-wizard though. The transfiguration required was simple enough for him but he was having trouble remembering the perfect cut and style of the muggle suit he wanted. Finally, getting it just right in his mind, he uttered the spell. His robes changed into a fashionable three-piece navy blue muggle suit. "Hah! How's this, my minion?" he asked displaying his usual charming smile.

Harry gave him a once over and deemed him acceptable with a grunt.

"Now. You remember what you have to do, Sirius?" Harry asked seriously.

"Yup," Sirius chirped.

"You keep taking it lightly as you are right now and I'd have to carry you back in a body bag." He warned. "You have seen these people, Sirius. You have observed them while I was away. You know they will cut us down if they are even a little bit suspicious. I'd give you that Francis is slow, but those who work for him aren't. You'd have to remember that. Even if you are playing their boss's boss, they will only listen to Francis. If we aren't able to isolate him from his goons, you'd need to make him believe in what you are saying and who you are," Harry explained patiently. He was rightly worried about what they would be facing when they got inside the lion's den. The ruthless bastards that they were, wouldn't hesitate a second to pull the trigger, which, Sirius was nowhere near fast enough to defend against.

He had set up everything as he had planned. Klaas Bruinsma was admitted to a hospital on the evening of the day he had left the Kiwi-lands and he had just two of his guards with him. The doctors under Clarisse's orders had him sedated. Everything was set. Now was the time for them to do their part. Arguably, the most difficult phase of this whole hair-brained scheme. Especially when the most important aspect of it depended on a man-child who only got serious when the situation was really screwed.

Yeah, what could go wrong?

Sirius, not aware of the musings of his companion, simply nodded. He knew that the kid was worried about the whole thing. And to be honest, he was too, a little. But the simple fact was that the muggles did not scare him. He had his wand and he knew how to handle himself in tight situations. He had been an Auror for merlin's sake. And a good one at that. He was fairly certain he could handle whatever they threw at him. True, those guns of their's did give him a pause, but even those could be defended against given enough motivation. And keeping himself from being pierced would work more than enough for that.

Seeing the look on Sirius' face, Harry was sure the man was busy pumping himself up in the self-grandiose way he usually did. Shaking his head at the thought, he fished out the rope he had made into a portkey earlier which was mapped to a solitary alleyway.

"You have everything?" Harry asked while doing his own inventory check.

"Yes," Sirius replied. His face for once showing a hint of tension.

It was a good sight for Harry to see. The tension meant that despite his chirpy attitude, Sirius was taking this seriously. Well, as seriously as Sirius took things.

When he saw his godfather had grabbed the end of the rope, Harry tapped it with his wand and they disappeared in a swirl.

-x-x-x-x-x-

It was an overcast sky and a light drizzle was pouring down on the streets of West Yorkshire. A black town car came to a stop in front of a red-bricked building on the southern street. Despite being an old building, it was clear that it had been maintained very well. Thick vines were stemming out on either side of it in a way that made it seem elegant rather than gauche. The bricks were whole and relatively clean. There were no visible chips on them nor on the little masonry work on the front. With its appearance as it was, it was rightly named, The Red Crestler. Combined, it gave off a feeling of someone highly respected or rich to be living in the building.

Only one of those was true.

Roy Francis Adkins, the owner and resident of the building, was a career criminal and well on his way to becoming one of the most renowned mobsters of the British isles. Francis had started his career in robbery and had recently moved into smuggling drugs, primarily cannabis. He had a reputation for a quick temper and for being very physically imposing and strong. Given that, it was not very surprising that he was a feared figure among his underlings.

As was nature's way of balancing things, he did have a deficit. Whosoever had worked with the man in his early forays knew that there were more than a few wires that were loose in the pot he called his head. While he had improved since receiving gainful employment, it was still a far cry from being a man who could handle all the threads as one needed to when managing the things he did. Smuggling, murder, kidnapping were tedious things. But what kept him balanced was his fear. His fear of the man he managed everything for. Coincidentally, it was the same man who had brought him into his organisation after seeing his skills first hand, when he was filching his guard's wallet.

Klaas Bruinsma.

The same Klaas Bruinsma that had Interpol chasing after him for more than a decade and hadn't found anything to connect him to his crimes. The same Klaas Bruinsma who had, allegedly, killed north of a hundred people in his rise to power and had been reported by the authorities to have a net worth of about 1.2 billion scattered all over the very same Klaas Bruinsma who was getting out of his town car in the light drizzle on the street behind The Red Crestler. Just as his foot touched the pavement, his guard, Louise was standing there with an open umbrella. Klaas was a man who knew what he wanted and did whatever he could to get his hands on it. He was, as he wanted to be, a significant player on the continental stage as far as drugs were concerned. He was also, a man of style, wearing a crisp navy blue three-piece suit with a bolero hat on his head and polished black boots. As he walked alongside the building, his gait sharp and brisk, he very much looked the part of a man on a mission. Louise, all the while, easily followed behind.

Coming to the intersection Klaas nodded to his guard and crossed the street alone, leaving the guard behind. Louise meanwhile started his approach towards to the building his target resided in. They had already decided on this approach. It effectively reduced the number of possible hostiles in their vicinity to just two or three if the target was being more paranoid than usual.

Louise took a look at his watch and saw that it had already been forty-five minutes since they had started. Not one to take unnecessary risks, he brought out his flask and took a generous swig of the liquid inside, shuddering as he did so. The taste had, as he had known, burrowed on his tongue after the first dose.

As he came to the door of The Red Crestler, he slowed his gait. Hundreds of thoughts raved inside his head as every variable clashed with another in the race of things that could go wrong. He shook his head to clear his doubts. "I need to do this. There is no point in second-guessing myself now. Everything has been laid out already. I can't let the what-ifs control the mission. I have done what I could with what I had. It will be what it'll be." Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself and banged on the steel door.

A second passed and he caught the menacing stare of the door guard peeking from an opening.

"What do you want?" the guard asked, looking him suspiciously.

"Call Matthew," Louise replied in a monotone.

"There's no Matthew here, guy. Take a hike," the guard dismissed.

Before the guard could shut the door, he began. "I am going to make a call. If it rings inside the room in this building, you won't be leaving it," Louise stated blandly as he reached into his pocket, presumably for his phone. It was a gigantic monstrosity of a box that looked like it was a bitch to carry. Before he could bring it out, the guard relented.

The pointed stare and the bland tone from the visitor were more than enough for the guard to halt his usual modus operandi. The boss did have some unusual guests sometimes. If he found out that he had dismissed one of them, there wouldn't be a hole in Yorkshire he'd be able to hide in. "Wait! I'll go check. Maybe I missed him."

"Yeah. You go do that."

A while passed before a man in a plaid shirt and pants with a necktie on his thin neck opened the door. He was about to shout so as to turn away the unwanted guest when he saw who it was. As soon as his eyes caught Louise's own, he paled.

"L…Louise. I didn't know you were coming," Matthew stammered.

"That was the point. Clear the house. Nobody needs to know I was here. I will meet you at the back door," Louise replied with a hint of frustration touching his tone.

"Y…Yes, of course." Matthew replied before shouting out orders for others to move to the second floor.

By the time Louise was at the backdoor, it was open and Matthew was standing there alone. Seeing him fidgeting was oddly pleasing for him. The moron might only be the accountant for Francis, but he was worse than his boss in many ways. At least Francis didn't share his tastes for young girls. Matthew was just a repugnant insect. A clever insect, but an insect just the same.

"He's here, I presume?" Louise asked, referring to Francis.

"Francis is upstairs, yes. Do you wan…" before he could utter another word, Louise was already moving towards the stairs.

"Louise! Louise! Wait." Matthew hissed, trying and failing to stop Louise.

Two flights of stairs and Louise was opening a door to his right that saw him standing face to face with a startled Roy Francis Adkins.

He was shorter than his pictures in the newspapers made him out to be. The flat nose and long face were still the same and his beady eyes were much sharper than he had imagined. But considering that he was supposed to have met the man on countless occasions, he smothered any reaction before it showed.

Francis gathered himself from the surprise and a large grin spread on his face. "Louise! It's nice to see you, hombre. Why the hell didn't you tell me you were coming? I'd have sent Matthew here to pick you up."

Before Francis got on with his spiel, Louise derailed him with just a few words. "Boss is here."

Francis and Matthew both looked at him with wide eyes before Francis once more showed his pearly whites and patted him on the shoulder. "I knew the old coot wanted a change of scenery after the whole shebang in the Hagues. But to stretch his legs this far? Well, colour me intrigued. Where's he anyway?" he asked, his hands still on Louise's shoulders.

If it was bothering Louise, he didn't show it. "He asked me to bring you and him," he gestured towards where Matthew was standing shifting uncomfortably. "to the storage house outback. No one knows he's here. He wants to keep it that way."

Francis frowned at him hearing that. While it was highly unusual for Klaas to come without even a phone call, he had known Louise for as long as he had worked for Klaas. "Sure. Do you know what this is about, Louise? I don't really like surprises, you know that."

"I do," Louise replied.

Both Francis and Matthew looked at him, hoping he would continue. When it didn't look like he would. Francis just sighed and shook his head.

Soon they were standing inside the storage house looking at the back of an impressively dressed man who was watching the street from the windows. The only impression he gave of knowing they had arrived was a simple tilt of his head.

The silence stretched for more than a minute and a bead of sweat travelled down Matthew's temple. Not being able to contain himself anymore, the man sputtered, "M…Mister Bruinsma. We are glad you could…"

"Louise," Klaas called out, interrupting the snivelling sputterings of the accountant.

Louise was suddenly in front of Matthew, stuffing the tie into his mouth, pinching his nose and choking him from behind.

Francis was getting a little worried now. He had seen the boss at his worst. This was not it. But as silent he was, it was pretty damn close. Matthew, he didn't care much about. The man was a freaking genie when handling the money but that was nothing compared to what shit storms he caused with his predilections. But the fact was if Klaas was this pissed, heads would start to roll and if he didn't placate the man accordingly, his would be the first one. With that thought at the forefront of his mind, he attempted a save. "Boss. Why are you here? I realise things here have been getting a bit heated but it's nothing that I haven't been able to handle before."

Klaas shifted his stare from the view outside the window to Francis' reflection on it. Just a stare was enough to make Francis flinch. "Why am I here, Louise?"

Louise, who was still choking the accountant, threw the gurgling man on the floor and adjusted his sleeves and looked at Francis to reply in his boss' stead. "The girl. They know it was someone from your gang. Questions are being asked by the big wigs."

Understanding filled Francis' eyes and the worry he had been feeling abated a bit. This was all the boss was worried about? He could handle this. The little bitch was nothing in the grand scheme of things. He could make the boss see that. "The bitch was no one, boss. I ran a check on her after…after Matthew was done with her and it was clean. Her mother is just some small-time teacher and she had no pappy. This whole thing would dial down before…" That was as far as he got before Louiseslammed him in the throat. His eyes watered and he collapsed grabbing at his throat. The airway was not blocked, Louise hadn't hit him that hard, but the trachea was most likely damaged somewhat. His breaths were coming in ragged and it burned every time he sucked in some air.

It was a minute before he came to. Louise was standing at his front with his hands folded on his chest. "The big bobbies have set their eyes on you. The intel came in yesterday. Congratulations Francis, You've finally got some friends downtown."

Francis' looked horrified as he realised what had happened. One of the reasons nobody had been able to convict Klaas was because there had been no money trail to find. Since he, Francis, was the money manager for Klaas' organisation and nobody had a clue that he was working for him, Klaas was safe. Now, that the upper echelons of the investigative departments had gotten Francis' scent, the secret wouldn't remain so for long. Just like what Louise had left unsaid. He was a loose end. And Francis knew what Klaas did with his loose ends. Hell, he himself had been the one who took care of the poor bastards. Now, that the boss was here in person, it could only get worse for him.

"Please…I…I will take care of it. Louise! Boss! I will take care of it, I promise you. Nobody will know it was your money. I swear. I will…"

"Be quiet, boy," Klaas' heavy voice shut him up as he finally turned around and stepped towards the snivelling man on the ground. "You have done enough. It's only your years of obedience that is seeing your head still attached to your shoulders." He squatted on a knee and his eyes bored into Francis' own. There was something malevolent about his gaze that even Francis, who murdered people for a living, couldn't help but flinch. "Louise will take care of your mess. I have a flight out this evening. Don't do anything that I am forced to cancel it." Some anger finally showed on Klaas' face as he grabbed Francis' hair and pulled his face to look at him. "You will not like the results."

Francis nodded fearfully.

Klaas looked at Louise and nodded. "I'll be in my hotel suite. Take care of it." He looked at Francis for the last time and the cowering man laying on the ground whimpered. "Don't kill him. Give him something from the cache. He did serve me well. No matter his recent idiocy, he shouldn't have to beg for his food." With that, he walked away, leaving behind two trembling gangsters and Louise to arrange his affairs.

Louise looked at the two idiots on the ground and sighed. It would be a lot of pain to deal with these two. At least he'd be the one to give them their just deserts. He could be happy with that.

-x-x-x-x-x-

It was an hour later that Matthew, Francis and Louise were sitting on the rickety chair table in the storehouse hashing the plans for a quiet dispersal of the caches. Louise was getting tired of the chatter the two were making trying to pin the thing on each other.

"You just had to take the girl, didn't you! Now we are fucked because your willy can't handle a real woman, you sick fuck. I knew this would happen. I knew you were going to drag me down with you. Should have killed you the night I found you cowering in that drug den. Wouldn't be here if I did. LOOK AT ME WHEN I AM TALKING TO YOU!" Francis threw back the chair and grabbed Matthew by his face.

Louise jumped in before both Francis killed the sobbing mess. "Francis! Stop! Killing him will bring nothing but more trouble. The bobbies are looking for anything to bust down your doors. Do you think if they find the body of your associate it would help you any?" he reasoned.

Francis looked at him with a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Who says they will find his body?"

Louise pinched his nose. "And tell me how would you get the money out of here without him?"

Francis gritted his teeth at that. Matthew was Francis' account for one simple reason, he knew how to keep the money buried. No one knew how and where he kept it, apart from Francis. And even he only knew about the locations, not how Matthew had arranged the contingencies, which, knowing the snivelling coward, were sure to be present.

Getting tired of the two idiots, Louise came around the table and grabbed Matthew by the hair. Two consecutive slaps and the man was coherent enough to realise that there was somebody willing to kill him if he didn't get his shit together. "You know all the cache locations, yes?" He received a fearful nod from the man. "And you are sure no one knows about them?" Another nod. "Good. You will take four men with Francis and bring the caches here. I will have the transport waiting here for the exfil." Then he turned towards Francis who stood seething, looking at the fearful face of his accountant. "And you," he said jabbing his finger on Francis' chest, "better not think about getting away with boss's money, Roy. I know how you think. Despite boss' wishes, you know that I will gut you if you so much as thought about doing anything stupid. It didn't turn out well for the last guy who stole from him. Remember that. You have five hours." Without looking at either of their faces, he walked away towards the exit. He had to saddle the horses if these two numbnuts did manage to get the caches securely in the building.

-x-x-x-x-x-

It didn't take them five hours to wrangle everything back to the storage house. It took close to seven. Turned out, the bobbies had somehow gotten the location of one of the safe houses and were watching it like hawks. Having to leave that one, for the time being, they collected from the other caches, filled all six vans and jetted back to the storage house.

That brought them to here and now as they were getting out of the vans. They had all seen the bus waiting back out in the street. Francis had a pretty good idea as to what would happen now and he was ready. He knew what he had to do. If he was going to have to run away from all his hard-earned wealth, he was, at the very least, taking down the bastard who caused all this mess.

Just as all six of them were getting out of the vans, he looked at Louise who was standing at the back of the room, folding his hands. He knew he wouldn't get an opportunity better than this so he struck. Cocking his Ruger P90, he aimed it at the five men walking at his front and pulled the trigger.

Four quick shots and before they knew it every single guard was down. When Matthew turned towards him, fear in his eyes, Francis looked at him and shot him in the face. Twice. In seconds, all five were lying down, bleeding from their noggin. When he turned to his right to take a look at Louise, he was gone.

And the next second he heard a whip-like crack and there was a familiar pressure at the back of his head. A voice cleared his confusion and he froze. "I wouldn't be as easy to kill, Francis."

He gulped nervously but collected himself. "I wouldn't kill you, Louise," Francis stated without pause. "This bastard though," he spat at the bleeding body of his accountant, "he needed to die. He ruined everything for me. He and his sick proclivities took everything that I worked so hard to build. I knew I should have stopped him back then. I fucking knew it! But I figured, what the hell would happen anyway? The bobbies never come this close to the neighbourhood. She would be just like the others," he said, shrugging his shoulders as if stating a fact.

For a second he felt like, Louise would pull the trigger. But when he felt the pressure release from his head, he turned around to see Louise putting something behind his back, presumably his gun. "What now?" he asked.

"Now I give you what boss asked me to and the world never sees you again. Boss has cleared somethings in the west coast, Black sea. You will be settling in Port Varna in Bulgaria. The size of your retirement fund depends on how much you were able to liberate today." As soon as he mentioned the money, he could see Francis fidgeting a bit. Something wasn't right. "You were able to get all of it, yes?" he asked on a hunch.

Francis could quite get himself to answer looking into Louise's eyes so he turned to his side before replying, "We…Th…There were Peelers watching one of the safe houses. We couldn't get those."

"And how much was that?"

Seeing a rope to climb out of the hole he had dug for himself he clung to it with all his might. "Not much! I asked the bleedin' bastard down there," he pointed towards Matthew's bloody corpse, "about it and he said that safe house had been a new one. He was using a new housing firm for cleaning the money and he had given them access to only a small cache."

"If the next thing that comes out of your mouth isn't a fucking number, you will not like your face when I am done fixing it," Louise threatened.

"A Hu…Hundred large." Francis stammered fearfully.

Louise appeared thoughtful before he attempted to speak. "Hmm. I don'…"

"In two spots inside the house." Francis interrupted, knowing that Klaas would know if he lied.

"So, two hundred thousand in total?" Louise asked to clarify.

"Ye…Yes."

Francis was sure that he was about to get the same treatment, he had given his fallen associates when Louise replied. "I am taking that from your share. Boss said to give you one per cent. I am thinking of making it half." Seeing Francis about to say something, he continued. "Relax. I won't. Boss was right. If nothing, you have been loyal. You should get a fair payment for it. Take a bag. And I want you out of the country tonight. Charter a plane. Get on a boat. I don't fucking care how you do it. If Boss sees you again, and you know how far he can really see, you wouldn't like what happens to you."

It was clear to Francis that he was on very thin ice with the boss's cleaner. So, as fast as his legs could carry him, he snatched a bag from one of the nearby vans and proceeded to leave the storage house. A barked command from behind stopped him in his tracks.

"Francis! Forgetting something?" Louise asked, his face showing the irritation he felt.

Quickly as he could, Francis opened the bag and dropped two large bundles of wrapped bills back inside the van.

"Good boy," Louise remarked watching the man run out of the building in a hurry.

It was a full minute after Francis was gone that Louise breathed a sigh of relief.

It had been a hell of a play. He still couldn't believe that they had pulled it off.

Fucking mobsters.

He took a few moments to gather his nerves before he started moving towards the vans. Judging by the number of bags, there was more than enough for him to start his plans. A wicked grin appeared on his face at the thought.

The death-suckers wouldn't know what hit them.

One by one he put key-chains on the bags and with a single command of "Portus Clavis" every single bag disappeared in a swirl leaving nothing behind but empty vans.

Louise came out of the building openly smirking and banged the driver side of the bus. "Get moving."

The bus sped up, screeching all the way to the intersection, leaving behind an empty street and a still smirking Louise.

-x-x-x-x-x-

(Two days later)

He knew he was stalking. Watching her like this. Even if it was from afar. Seeing her talking, reading, sleeping. It was his only reprieve from his nightmares. The only salve for his wounds. He also knew, if he told her that, she would just smack his arm and kiss him for his trouble. She was like that. Sweet. Loving. Caring.

An amazing woman.

His wife.

Hermione Granger.

He could easily see some of her future self in the little girl sitting at the same spot underneath the same willow tree she always did. The intelligent brown eyes gleaming with the same spark. The same habit of nibbling on her lower lip when she was working out a problem. Even her smile was just the same, kind and understanding.

Every time he had come here to watch her, she had been alone. Busy with her thoughts. Busy reading. Always, reading. Woe to those who kept her from her books. It brought a rare smile to his face.

Today seemed different, though. For one, she wasn't sitting alone as she usually did in her lunch break and for another, there was a woman sitting next to her. The same blonde woman he had seen talking to her once before.

Maybe a teacher had finally realised how tough it was for her in school? Maybe she was just trying to help?

It was good.

She deserved some friends. It always made him wonder how could anyone not want her in their life. She was perfect. Everything about her was uniquely her own.

When a parchment in his pocket grew warm, he knew.

His time was up.

Good things did tend to end earlier for him than they did for everyone else.

He sighed. "Once more unto the breach…"

-x-x-x-x-x-

"Did she give you any trouble?" Harry asked as he and Sirius walked towards their target in Diagon.

"Nope. Didn't even read it," Sirius replied, patting his inner robe pocket. "Signed it without looking," he chuckled. "But in all fairness, she had been signing documents for the whole day. I'm sure I'd have burst all the blood vessels in my head if I had to keep up with that kind of workload. Besides, I put the parchment between one of Robards' reports. The bastard drones on and on in his after-action briefs. She never reads it properly," he added, still grinning.

"Hmm. It might also be because it was only a single document. Where Umbitch is at right now, she couldn't have gotten there if she wasn't adept at covering the paper trail…" Harry trailed off as they walked inside the enormous white marble building.

The place was as duplicitous as ever. The enormous waiting hall with its crisp cream coloured walls and their carved epitaphs was enough to show their customers of the might and wealth of their hosts. The beautifully crafted white pillars reached far into a ceiling so high, one couldn't even comprehend it's height. The multitude of queues and counters, situated neatly at its centre didn't even come close to looking cluttered. While it represented their community's collective wealth, it was also a building that had seen many battles and had been built upon the shed blood of thousands embedded within. But what could not be denied was that the place was an exquisite example of fine workmanship and construction of the speciestheir world knew as goblins. It was their home.

Gringotts. The wizarding bank.

Housing within its halls about a hundred different clans of the highly intelligent race of small magical humanoid beings with long fingers and feet with acute senses that coexisted with the wizarding world, Gringotts, was a Sovereign Nation. Goblins had control over the wizarding economy to a large extent simply due to their skills with money and finances.

Clever as they come, goblins, but they were not the most friendly of beasts.

Nor did they entangle themselves in the petty wars of wizards.

They had been the first species of magical creatures to disappear when the second war had taken an ugly turn. The difference was, while other magical creatures had been hunted to near extinction, these gnarly creatures had simply burrowed themselves in the caves so deep, that nothing and no one could come back alive even if someone was stupid enough to venture beneath. It was rumoured that Boneslaw Ragnok, their king, had been killed by one of the other clan leaders in a duel and the victor had decided to distance the goblin population from the ongoing war. During the early days of their disappearance, some had still tried though.

The wizards under Lord Voldemort's banner were among those few who hadn't been able to swallow the theft of their family heirlooms and legacies that the little gremlins had taken with themselves underground and had followed them contemptuously. The ground had spat their nibbled bones days later. Their master had simply chuckled at their fate and ordered others to not venture into the caves again.

With not much gold and nothing left to conquer in the magical world, Voldemort had turned his sights to the only available target.

The muggles.

And as for the goblins?

They had never been seen after that. Not a single sight had been reported by either of the factions. Some, in the resistance, had tried to look for them in the parts they were known to burrow, but it had never yielded any results.

It was with these thoughts running through his mind, that Harry walked inside the proverbial red zone with Sirius in tow. They had both decided to use the final two doses of the, once again, pilfered Polyjuice potion from an apothecary down in Knockturn, before walking here. He had figured that even with every bureaucratic nonsense the goblins threw at them, it still wouldn't take them more than two hours to get it over with. They were wearing the forms of two very nondescript wizards for this particular meeting. It had a likelihood of turning bad and bad to worse in a matter of seconds if any wrong wires were touched, so to speak. The primary reason for this subterfuge was to not let everyone in the welcome hall know their identities and if the goblins decided not to play ball, well, they were, as they say, fucked.

After the more than believable performance Sirius had given just recently, he had decided to bring him along as support in case things went awry. While he would deny it if ever asked, the reason for bringing Sirius was also because the man had impressed him a little by the way he had handled himself in front of the mobsters they had just robbed. He wouldn't have ever expected the cool, calm and collected Sirius to have ever existed inside the goofy man-child that was his godfather. Apparently, he'd underestimated him. He was pleasantly surprised by that.

Just as they approached, Sirius turned to him and asked, "So no hint about my family vaults, yeah?"

"No," Harry replied. "We will do that only if we are able to convince them about the things we discussed. And even then, not today. Too much too soon and we are bound to draw attention. It is the one thing we don't want. Not right now. Not when we aren't ready. I am taking a risk going to them as is. I don't think bringing up the tug of war that is happening between them and the ministry would help us any. Besides, now that we have something to fill our pockets with, I don't think, we'd need your vaults this soon. And knowing the goblins, they'd dance on the table butt naked before they relinquished the vaults to the ministry with a legitimate heir still alive," he smirked, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

"Hmm. Makes sense… Well, we're here. Let's get moving."

They approached the only vacant counter and waited for the teller to address them. As was their wont, the goblin didn't even pretend to look at them busy as he was with whatever that had captured his attention on the parchment he was reading. Seeing them still standing there patiently, he sighed irritably. "Business?"

"We represent a client who wishes to open a vault in your establishment, master goblin," Harry replied without preamble.

If the surly goblin was surprised with the civility in his crisp tone, he did nothing to show it. Simply writing down some words on the parchment, he gave a barked hail to one of his fellows who were standing nearby. A short conversation in a language that Harry knew to gobbledegook ensued among the two and with a snappy "Follow me" from the new fella, they were off.

He led them through one of the many doors that were situated on either side of the welcoming hall. A short walk through the small corridor and they came to a simple brown door which had the words 'New Accounts' engraved on it in thick black. Without waiting for them to enter or even knock, the escorting goblin took his leave and they were soon standing outside the door, alone.

Consolidating his thoughts, Harry firmly rapped on the door. A pause and they finally heard a muffled "Enter" from within. They walked inside to find themselves in a fairly standard office with maroon coloured walls decorated with certifications and the like. Right in front of them was a sturdy polished brown desk and sitting on it, watching them, was a shrivelled old goblin wearing a decent enough black suit having with an indent on the side that Harry knew to be a carving knife hiding beneath the clothing. While the modern times may have forced goblins to take on their secondary speciality for co-existing with wizards, banking, one forgot at their own peril that these creatures were first and foremost, vicious warriors with a sense of honour that belayed understanding.

A cough that one could not, in any way, mistake to be polite, brought their attention back towards the crotchety looking goblin staring at them with some intensity.

Sirius broke first.

"Client-requests-to-open-an-account," he blurted out. It wasn't that he was particularly afraid of goblins or this goblin for that matter. He had been around them loads of times before after all. But the difference between those times and now was that he knew for a fact that goblins hated being tricked and what with them coming inside their den having polyjuiced themselves and everything, he was a little on edge with what the little creatures would do to him if they found out.

"Obviously," the old goblin sneered nasally.

If there was ever a moment that Harry wanted to palm his face, this was it. Clearing his throat to make the goblin focus on him, he began. "We have been tasked by our client to find out about his options if they were to deposit a substantial deposit in Gringotts. We were hoping you could help us with that."

This time the stare from the goblin was a bit less intimidating as if he had identified a slightly more competent and less time-consuming wizard among the two. "Certainly, wizard," he spoke, throwing the term as if hurling an insult. "We have three tiers we provide our clients. Tier-1, which is the high-security vaults with the protections and the like to keep away anyone and anything who isn't authorized by the client. Tier-2, which includes the medium-security vaults which have the protection of our guards patrolling them along with some basic wards and charms for added benefit. And Tier-3, the basic storage vaults which are easily accessible to our clients who do not wish to travel deep underneath our dwellings," he said, all the while looking straight into Harry's eyes continuing his efforts to frighten him for reasons obvious to just himself.

Harry knew this game. Had played it for quite many years during the early days when the resistance had just formed. Some part goblins, who had decided to stay on the wizarding side of the status-quo had the same habit of trying to make the wizards cower with just their gaze. While the purebloods did sometimes cave, having had brained into their heads since early childhood, how vicious the beasts could be, many others, who hadn't had such an education, had simply taken it all with more than a little amusement. Ignorance did have it's advantages after all.

As for the security tiers, many among the elites of their society were of the opinion that having a high-security vault with all its perks and assurances of safety was the perfect answer to prevent their family heirlooms, legacies and the like from being stolen. And what was left unsaid but was still understood was that having their family vaults among the high-security tier was a matter of prestige. A matter on which even the most liberal of families among the populace were known to have similar views as their die-hard traditionalist counterparts.

But what a few smart business owners had realized was that for the thieves foolish enough to cross the border of the Sovereign nation of Gringotts with a nefarious purpose, the best deterrent was none other than goblins themselves. Wards could be bypassed, charms could be broken, but what made wizards shit their pants was a squad of goblins with their knives drawn and murder in their eyes.

Unaware of the thoughts running through his head, the old goblin continued. "Apart from that, we have accounts divided into two categories. A trust account, which comes with its own vaults hidden inside Gringotts. This account is for those who wish to avail themselves of our investment services and a standard account which is just the same without the investment services. We also charge the standard maintenance and upkeep fee on a quarterly basis if the client opts for the standard account. A trust account has no such charge," he explained gruffly.

"I see," Harry remarked. "And what of the minimum amount that is to be deposited for any vault? I assume you would have certain stipulations for the customers who have less gold to deposit than the maintenance fee you are charging," he asked conversationally.

"You would assume correctly, wizard. As you said that your client was of the mind to deposit a substantial amount, I thought that point to be moot," the goblin snarked. The sneer on his face as prominent as it had been the first time.

"Of course, master goblin. I was simply curious," he replied placatingly.

The old goblin simply gave a growled grunt and shifted his eyes back on Sirius who was trying to look nonchalant pretending to read the certifications hung on the wall. It would have been much more believable if the words on the hung up parchment had been legible from they were sitting. As they weren't, the goblin was very much aware of what Sirius was trying to accomplish.

As amusing as it was to see Sirius try so hard not to shift uncomfortably in his seat, he decided to proceed with the discussion. "I think our client would appreciate your services for a Tier-2 standard account vault. How long would it take for you to set that up?"

"As long as it takes for you to give me the approved ministry forms and for me to verify them, wizard."

"That won't be necessary, master goblin. Our client is a member of an Ancient House and is thus exempt from asking for any such approvals as written in section 240 subsection 13c of the Wizengamot financial practices bill, as I am sure, you're aware." Harry remarked confidently.

"Which your client would have to prove with a blood test," the goblin shot back.

"Our client had thought it might be necessary." He nodded. "He has provided us with a vial of his blood and an affidavit stating his request and confirmation of hiring us for this transaction. The affidavit, as per the standard practice has been signed with a blood quill in the presence of a ministry official. Both of which you can verify presently." Harry answered as he removed the vial from his robes and saw Sirius doing the same with a rolled-up parchment. They slid both towards the goblin all the while thanking Umbitch for her less than impressive reading habits.

The old goblin read the parchment with scrutinizing eyes before he reached the end and saw the signature. "Kent? Your client is a member of the Ancient House of Kent?"

"Yes, master goblin."

"Wait here," was all that the goblin said before he jumped out of his chair and exited his office briskly, the parchment and blood vial in hand.

"Harold!" Sirius hissed, turning to him with a jerk.

"Yes?" Harry replied, calm as ever.

"What the hell was that about? He could be calling the guards for all you know!"

Harry waved his hand dismissively. "No, he isn't. If he was suspicious the first thing he had done would have been to stab us in the back since neither of us had turned around when he walked towards the exit. Goblins have their honour, but in battle, it is highly skewed. And he did have the affidavit and the blood vial with him. For all we know, he might have just gone to see if everything's on the up and up, "he reasoned.

Sirius looked slightly mollified at that. He took a few moments to think about what Harold had said and realised that it was still a thin argument. And moreover, it was very much unlike Harold to be this uncoiled in potentially dangerous territory. But before he had a chance to say anything else, the doors opened again and the old goblin entered.

Taking his seat and turning around to look at them, he grunted. "Before we agree to your client's requests for a new account, there is an issue that needs to be resolved. House Kent has certain dues that are pending. Dues that have been culminating interest for well over a century. I have verified both the affidavit and the blood, they seem to be in order.

"However, before we open a new account, Gringotts requires the previous dues to be cleared. I have the accounts ledger for House Kent's finances with me here," he indicated the moderately sized leather-bound book in his hand, "and as far as I can see the dues after adding the interests are coming out to be around thirty thousand galleons. While they did have a Tier-3 storage vault in their name, the overdue maintenance charges for it has compounded over the years as per our policy in case of negligence to pay. If your client cannot clear those first, we will be forced to inform this to the ministry after we have paid your client a visit ourselves." By the end, the old goblin's tone had taken a threatening edge. When he was looking forward to seeing the cowering faces of the wizards sitting at his front, it left him somewhat confused and a tad angry that all he could see were the smiling faces of the two wizards he was doing his utmost to terrify.

Seeing an opportunity to get his dignity back somewhat, Sirius took charge. "That won't be an issue, master goblin. The first deposit from our client should more than cover the cost," he smirked before taking a more pensive look. "However, there might be an issue," Sirius paused, looking at Harry.

"An issue?" the old goblin growled.

Having caught the look, Sirius gave him, Harry continued. "You see, our client, after their departure from the wizarding world quite a few years back, shifted their monetary focus onto the muggle world and invested quite heavily there. From what we have observed in their portfolio, they have done more than well for themselves. Since the family has expressed their wish to return to their roots after their extended sojourn, they have decided to deposit some of their earnings in your fine establishment. As most of those earnings are in multiple muggle currencies as are his assets, our client was wondering how a transaction of such a nature would be handled," he asked with heavy curiosity tinging his tone.

The old goblin eyed them with more scrutiny than he had until now. It was clear to him that the two wizards were hesitating to state everything openly, as suggested by the fact that they hadn't even let slip the name or even the gender of their client. He supposed it was possible for the two to be versed with some business tact. But what put a bee in his bonnet was if their client was as wealthy as they were making it out to be, the accepted practice was to decrease the exchange rate depending upon the size of deposit or deposits the client was willing to make, a thing any goblin, including him, was loathed to do.

There were more than a few wizarding families who had assets in the muggle world and while they were monitored heavily by both them and the ministry, there were times when the corners were known to be cut. It was just good business. Hoping to get some idea of the numbers involved, he replied with his usual snark. "Such a transaction would have to be covered by an actual account manager who would be assigned to your client's house, wizard. And since you have wasted half an hour from my schedule I will need some basic idea of the amount to assign you to an account manager who will then handle everything pertaining to your client's business with Gringotts."

Sirius looked at Harry with furrowed brows asking for the course of action. Now that they knew that they were not going to be dealing with this particular goblin for their future banking needs, there was really no point in divulging more information than they already had. But it was still not a decision he could make on his own though, so he went with his usual modus operandi and deferred the question to the kid.

Doing the math in his head and coming up with a satisfactory number, Harry responded to the goblin's query. "The total amount comes around to be about three hundred thousand pounds, I believe."

The ever-present sneer on the old goblin's face stretched at that. The worthless wizards had stated that the amount had been substantial! Three hundred thousand muggle pounds were less than a hundred thousand galleons! While it was, in a way, a significant sum for an average wizard, the clients that Gringotts catered to pulled this much in their quarterly interests. If his King hadn't put his foot down about the treatment they were allowed to give their customers, howsoever moronic they seemed to be, he would have been pulling out his knife to carve himself some wizard skin by now.

Seething internally, he pressed his thumb on a rune carved on the stone wall behind and addressed them again. "Your request will be here soon," he hissed.

Knowing a little about the current internal goings-on of the mined halls of Gringotts as he did, Harry could guess what had set the old goblin off. But he could also see that it was an opportunity that he hadn't thought of before. One, he couldn't allow slipping from his fingers. His original plan had been to simply walk inside the bank and open an account with a series of small deposits that wouldn't tip of either the ministry or the goblins.

But this…this gave him an idea of pulling off something that no magical had ever been able to before. He also knew the animosity between the goblins and wizards would work in his favour here. Giving a mental fuck you to the FǤMOS unit, he drove ahead. "Actually, master goblin. We were hoping to get someone from the Boneslaw clan if we could. Some of our clients have worked with them in the past and they seem to have always appreciated their polite, no-nonsense attitude," Harry requested, ignoring the subtle questioning glance he was receiving from Sirius for going off-script.

The goblin was about to reply with the standard response of denial to any and all courteous requests made by someone who wasn't their direct client, as stated in their employee's manual, but stopped midstream. An evil glint entered his eyes as he realized the excellent opportunity.

With the Boneslaw clan being the holders of some of the most prominent accounts, what with their clan leader being the King of the Goblin Nation, they didn't have many experienced account managers left to spare. Any, who accepted this new account was bound to be a youngling. If he referred a new account to a Boneslaw youngling and he performed well, then he could very well gain some respect from his king, who was bound to hear the news. And if the youngling bungled it up, then he could be the one to decry the Boneslaw clan and earn some respect from an opposing faction he was hearing whispers of. It's not like the King could leverage him, he didn't have anyone left in his clan, having lost them all in the duels that they had initiated in hopes of getting their hands on some mighty big accounts. Liking his chances, either way, the goblin wrote a small message on a piece of parchment and dropped it in a hole directly adjacent to his desk.

Plastering the sneer back on his face, he responded to the foolish wizards seating at this front. "Done, wizard. Now, it will be 20Ǥ for consulting and another 10Ǥ for acquiescing to your request."

"Of course," Harry replied easily. He turned to his side and bit the insides of his cheek from openly grinning at his godfather. "30Ǥ please, Thomas."

Grumbling a little under his breath, Sirius dove into his robes and brought out his money pouch. A flick of his wand and the required galleons floated into the open pouch sitting at the old goblin's desk which for some reason, glowed a pale green.

As soon as they were done, a knock sounded on the door. A young goblin entered the office and after a quick look at them, addressed his older fellow. "You called for me, Master Bowrod?"

"I did. There is a request for a new account. These wizards here," he pointed his clawed fingers where they were sitting, "represent the client. The consultation fee has been charged and paid. I have verified the blood as well as the affidavit for their Class17F client," he said, handing the required documents to the young goblin.

"Understood, Master Bowrod," he replied eyeing the parchments before he turned his head towards them and with a simple command of "Follow me" left through the door.

Harry and Sirius jumped from their chair and after a simple nod at the old goblin, who didn't even bother to notice the gesture, followed after the surprisingly agile youngling. It was clear to Harry after what had happened in the office just now, that there was no such thing as a consultation fee for simply asking a query off of the greedy goblins. It was only his wish to leave without actually leaving an impression other than that of an average foolish wizard that had stayed his hand. It may also have been that he didn't want to miss seeing Sirius grumble a bit for having to part with what little money he had left.

Really, who could say it was one or the other?

Seeing the time on his watch, Harry nudged Sirius and they both took a swig of the potion from their flasks which, as an extra precaution, Harry had spelt odourless. Whatever happened next, they only had a single hour to conduct the business and get out of the place before their forms started changing.

Soon they were walking inside a similar office to the one they had just left. There were some subtle differences though. Like the colour of the walls and the portraits that hung on them. While the old goblin seemed have favoured maroon, the walls in this one were pastel green that had the images of some goblins, presumably of his own clan, showing them engaged with wizards and even other goblins in pitched battles. Directly behind the desk, the walls were lined with ornate looking axes about half the size of an average goblin. As far as unity among the goblins went, the office wasn't portraying much of it with its appearance. Harry was eying the goblin as he moved towards his seat when he noticed a wound on his left shoulder.

'Either he decided to roughhouse with his kin as is their nature or, the mutiny began earlier than I thought it had. Hunh! I'd have to gamble a bit here,' he thought, cringing internally at having to bank on variables outside his control again.

It was when the goblin began to speak that he moved his attention to his eyes. "Good evening, gentlemen. I am Boneslaw Dasez of the Boneslaw clan. I manage many smaller accounts as well as several smallholdings with the apothecary down in Carkit, being my biggest client. As I have understood from the briefs Master Bowrad has given me, your client wishes to open a Tier-2 standard account and as quite a few of his assets are in the muggle world, the deposit needs to occur after the exchange from the corresponding muggle currency to galleons. That is to say nothing about the dues that are owed to us beforehand. Is that correct?" he asked without a hint of irritation or snark colouring his tone though Harry was sure he could hear a touch of something he couldn't quite identify, disappointment perhaps?

"That is correct, Mr Dasez," Harry replied instead, having not quite able to match the professionalism in the goblin's tone with the usual snide from his kind.

"And the deposit is around…" he flipped through the parchments given by Bowrod, "three hundred thousand pounds, yes?"

"Actually, it's a bit more than that," Harry replied even as he spied the slightly confused look on Sirius' face, presumably for going farther away from the discussed plan. Again.

"More?" Dasez asked suspiciously.

In response, Harry burrowed the quill and parchment on the desk and after writing something, slid it towards Dasez. "This will be the first deposit."

Dasez looked at the number written on the parchment and a fanged smirk graced his crooked lips. "If I didn't have the parchments with me verifying the veracity of your request, I might have had to bring out one of my axes just to show you what happens to the wizards who come here simply to waste my time. Such a shame," he sighed theatrically, "it's been a while since I've had to use them too. Well, as I have seen them, It is my duty to inform you that by the laws of your own kind, I am required to report this transaction to the ministry and my own superiors," the goblin replied, scratching his sharp-clawed fingers on a groove in his desk.

The young Boneslaw was hoping to see at least a hint of fear in the two wizard's eyes as he had in many before who had come to him with a request similar to their own. 'And they always seemed to change their tune as soon as they are informed of this little tidbit.' While he saw something akin to that in the eyes of the wizard who had thus far remained silent, the other one was to be smirking openly. He was about to up the ante when he saw the wizards move the quill and parchment towards himself again.

Harry simply wrote three names on the parchment and passed it onto the goblin who was eyeing him and Sirius dangerously. He knew what he was attempting was risky. Hell, it was probably similar to standing in the middle of ministry atrium without his wand and listing out the laws he had broken in the span of a single month. But what made him go ahead with the half-baked scheme he had come up with was the timing of it all. It seemed to him that the King and the clans allied to him were moving onto the few goblins who were suspected of dealing under the table with the wizards for services that Gringotts had been explicitly forbidden from catering to. It was written as much in the recent treaty they had signed with the wizards. While it was a good thing for the wizarding world as a whole, it was an even better opportunity for someone who knew this dirty little secret.

Someone like Harry.

As soon as Dasez read the names on the parchment, he moved. In a blink of an eye, he had an axe in his hand and had jumped onto his desk and was swinging it towards Sirius who hadn't had a chance to even understand what was going on. The swing impacted a metallic shield that had sprung up suddenly with a mighty Thwack!

Sirius meanwhile had gathered his wits and was scrambling backwards having thrown himself off the chair in a hurry. His wand was in his hand when he saw the goblin looking not at him, but at Harold.

The goblin had been surprised when he hadn't felt his axe make contact with the wizard's neck. His surprise increased tenfold when he noticed the shield that had propped up in front of him and his prey. Turning his attention to the one who had likely conjured it, he was about to jump towards the fool who had had the audacity to take away his prey when his eyes caught the look on the wizard's face.

His blue eyes were shining ominously and with his face, a mask of nothingness, the wizard was looking at him with steel. A wand, polished black, the tip glowing dangerously red was pointed right at him. The air in the room had suddenly turned frigid and he could feel a pressure on his shoulders that pressed on him pulsingly. Before he could think of his chances of successfully beheading the obvious threat, the wizard began. "You would do better to rethink your stance on this Boneslaw Dasez. Since the discussions began, I haven't once doubted your intelligence. It might be prudent for you to do the same. Before you swing your mighty axe again, you might want to be sure that we are the only ones who know of these names. Because if we aren't and this is just a few things we know about the current regime, your King might not be very happy with the consequences of this impromptu duel," he said, looking threateningly at the axe-wielding goblin. "I'd suggest you return to your seat so we can proceed with the discussion. Or else there'd be one less goblin in the Boneslaw clan, I can promise you that," Harry finished in a resolute voice.

Dasez would have scoffed at that if he hadn't seen the metallic shield sprung up in less than a second from the glowing wand of the mouthing wizard. His kind were the fastest creatures on land and more so when engaged in combat. He was not shy enough to not admit that he was faster than many in their nation. For this axe to be stopped by the magic of a wizard was not something that he had ever expected could happen. While he was young, by human standards he was well over sixty years of age. It was common knowledge that goblins lived twice as long as Wizards but even with all that he had seen of wizardkind, he was certain that not many wizards were capable of such magical prowess as had been shown by the one still eyeing him dangerously.

With the patience and tact that many in the Bonslaw clan were known for, Dasez retracted. He knew the wizard's words held some truth in them. While he wanted nothing more than to cut the two wizards in pieces, the fact was, he didn't have any clue what exactly and how many knew of the secrets that Boneslaw clan was keeping from the world at large. Even the news of Boneslaw Ragnok being declared the Sovereign King of the goblin nation two years ago hadn't been dissembled to many. For a wizard to know about that and actions the king had taken since, was dangerous, to say the least.

With a growl, he returned back to his seat and after putting his axe back inside his desk, bared his fanged teeth and barked, "Speak, Wizard!"

Harry looked askance at Sirius to see he was alright. Receiving a nod from his clearly miffed godfather, he flicked his wand and the shield disappeared. They both returned to their seats, still holding onto their wands. Even though the goblin had sat back down, with the speed he had shown, there were no guarantees the situation wouldn't repeat itself. When they were settled, Harry began. "Now, that the excitement is over, I am simply asking for your indulgence in a proposition that I believe, would be profitable for our client, Clan Boneslaw and in the long run, perhaps even for goblin nation as well," he said cryptically.

"I do not need to hear platitudes from your silver tongue wizard! Your words of false friendship mean nothing to me! You will tell me how you knew of these names and how many other than you hold this knowledge or else…"

"Else nothing Boneslaw Dasez," Sirius interrupted. Ever since he had stepped inside Gringotts he had been more than a little worried about getting caught and the consequences after. He had tried to gather his nerves but whenever he had gained some courage, the fucking creatures had shown those fanged smirks and he had lost himself to the warnings that James' mother had filled their heads with.

"The worse thing that can happen to a wizard is to die by the hands of a goblin. A fight with them doesn't usually end with just one blow. They drag it out so they can enjoy seeing the light leave your eyes. And what people tend to forget is, at least with others, you don't have to worry about getting eaten alive."

This and many other ominous words had raved inside his mind picking at his courage whenever he thought about getting caught inside the mined halls of these creatures. But now, when he had been a hair's breadth away from getting his head sliced, his perspective had changed somewhat. For one, he realised that he wasn't exactly alone in this adventure and for another, Harold seemed to be on the ball with the whole 'not letting Sirius get killed' thing. Whatever names Harold had written in that parchment had been enough to crack the goblin's calm façade which could only mean that they had leverage. With that thought in his head, he decided to channel his inner Gryffindor and stopped the goblin before he gathered more steam.

"You have seen what we have. You know what this information can cost you. We have the leverage here, not you. My colleague here was simply trying to get you to understand that fighting with us here wouldn't gain you anything. What do you say we set aside whatever happened before and get back to the subject at hand?" he asked, wishing to get things back on track. Just because he had realised that he wouldn't necessarily get killed here, didn't mean that he had any wish to stay any longer than required.

It took a couple of minutes for the atmosphere in the office to return to normal, or what passed as normal for a situation like theirs.

Dasez having collected himself, for the time being, spoke, "What are you proposing then? The ministry would know when you move this much amount of money from your client's muggle bank to here anyway. They have their ways. I am sure you are aware of the FǤMOS unit?" he replied questioningly.

"We are. And you don't have to worry about them. The money isn't in the bank and as stated previously, it is in multiple currencies so there is nothing about this transaction that will paint a target on our client's head or yours, for that matter. Once the money is in the vault, there is nothing they can do about it anyway. The Wizengamot has strict rules regarding anything that deals with the family vaults. One thing that even the FǤMOS unit can't do anything about given how much they are congruent with the Albion Magics. What we need is for you to be quiet about this arrangement on your end," Sirius said, knowing that his next words were bound to catch the goblin's attention. "Look Mr Dasez, it doesn't even have to be just our client who is getting something from this. In addition to keeping your secrets, I believe our client would be more than happy to give you your fair share for keeping things between us," he added, dangling a metaphorical carrot in front of the goblin.

As was his thought, the goblin's posture shifted a bit at that. "That would make me nothing but the scum whose names you are using to do this, wizard!"

Harry caught onto that thread. "Ah, but the difference here is that we are not asking for information on your other clients. We are simply asking you to handle this transaction between our client and yourself as Gringotts is known to do. Wizards have chosen Gringotts as their bank for centuries because they know they can trust you to be private about such things. Why the Dwarves in the Swiss Alps are apt in financing as much as you are. Why do you think our client chose you and not them?"

"Our client has big plans for the future, Mr Dasez. There is a reason the account we have chosen is a Tier-2 standard account. None of the influential families has their vaults in that tier. But they are still big enough for the business owners who have substantial earnings. Since you folk don't seem to get involved in duels for any accounts that don't have family vaults, you wouldn't even have to deal with those pesky little things. Barring, of course, the ones who would come after you for a simple reason of proving themselves your betters to their brethren. But having seen you in action, I'd say you can handle them easily enough. Considering all that, this is a big opportunity for you, don't you think?" he asked knowing how much inherent greed of the goblins would work in his favour.

If Sirius had any doubts about Harold's age, they were all extinguished seeing him interact with the goblin. It was clear seeing Dasez's face that he was contemplating the offer rather than looking for a way to end them both. To be able to change the tune of a fiery goblin in a matter of minutes, it was a tall order. And Harold had done just that. And that too using the knowledge that everyone in the wizarding world was already aware of.

It was common knowledge that goblins hated dwarves for being able to match their banking skills and the laws regarding family vaults were a matter of public knowledge as well. True, the first strike had been a hit because of the names that Harold had thrown about, but to have gained a knowledge of inner happenings of the goblins that were essentially making the young goblin sweat internally, it was no simple feat. If he wasn't satisfied by now that Harold was fighting the good fight, he would have been very scared right about now.

Sure, he knew that Harold was still keeping many secrets, but he knew that it was simply because they hadn't known each other for long. The kid-wizard had even shown him another memory message from Harry after he had come back from meeting one of his people at the drop off point yesterday. Hearing his godson's happy voice and the bond that still pulsed with the same intensity in him as it had before made him want to help Harold even more than before. Though for some unknown reason the memory had also nudged at the uneasy feeling in his gut that he'd been having ever since his meeting with Harold in the tea shop down in Carkitt. Despite that little feeling, the truth was that they needed to make the Wizarding world safe enough for Harry to be able to live here without any danger. And for that, working with Harold and his people was the best course of action. At least for now.

Seemingly done with his own internal debate, Dasez spoke up. "I'd have to inform my King of this, at the very least," he remarked, willing to at least hear about the transaction, even if hypothetically. Not that the wizards needed to know that.

"That would be a problem," Sirius said with a hint of worry tinging his tone.

Meanwhile, Harry was sifting through his memories of everything he had heard or had found out about the procedures and laws of the goblin nation when something clicked. He still needed to confirm somethings though. "Actually, it might not be. How frequently does Gringotts conduct personnel audits?" he asked.

"Every six years or so. Earlier, if an account manager declares the accounts they are managing to be high valued assets. The last one happened a month ago." the goblin replied promptly.

"Hmm… And are there any specific parameters that define an asset to be a high-value one?

"Not particularly. If anything, it's a prestige issue among my kind," realisation donned in his eyes as he goblin gave a toothy smirk. "You are not as foolish as others of your kind, wizard. But what makes you certain that I would not declare your account as a high-valued asset?"

"1 per cent," Harry replied calmly, leaning back in his chair.

"5 per cent," the goblin shot back, understanding where the wizard was going.

"1 per cent and I wouldn't give the list of other names to the offices of Daily Prophet," Harry countered.

"You do that and you wouldn't have any leverage left and I could simply inform your ministry of your deeds," Dasez growled threateningly.

"Perhaps. Perhaps. But is that before or after your King takes your head off your shoulders?" Harry asked with a matching smirk.

For a tense moment, it looked like the Dasez would take to his axe again. But when the young goblin's shoulders slumped they knew. He was hooked. "It is not a permanent solution. The King would hear of this, if not from me then by the time the next audit happens."

Harry shrugged. "We weren't hoping for a permanent solution, Mr Dasez. Our client would need only a few years to get all his ducks in a row and by the time your King hears of it, I am sure, he'd be proud of you for earning one of Gringotts biggest clients to date," he said enticingly.

When he saw that the goblin just needed a gentle push, he rallied. "Tell you what though, as the client has authorised me to do the negotiations on their behalf, I'll even up the stakes. Write up a contract with everything that we have discussed here. Add a stipulation that if the information our client presents you doesn't yield at least 30 per cent profit of the invested amount for the first two years, they will give up half of the gold they'd have in his vault by the end of their first deposit. And furthermore," he rallied through ignoring Sirius' attempt to catch his attention, "you are authorised to make the first ten investments according to our client's information using his money and they wouldn't even ask you to establish the account as a trust account, foregoing the perks he would get by that. 25 per cent of which will be your share." By the time Harry was finished, the goblin andSirius, both were looking at him with wide eyes as if he had gone insane.

Shrugging of Sirius' attempts to retract him, which had turned from nudging to outright smashing his foot on his, under the desk, Harry looked straight at the bewildered goblin. "Look, Mr Dasez. Our client has had a larger portfolio in muggle assets than any of your present clientele. Kent family values their privacy. Not many in the muggle world know their name. And that is by design. Our client has earned their wealth by remaining anonymous and betting on the right horse sitting back in the bleachers. They loathe any form of bindings on how and where they should be spending their money which is known to happen when the muggle government knows who you are. To prevent something similar happening here as well, they have had to choose this course of action.

"Another reason is that they have children who seem to have set their eyes on going to Hogwarts. Since the children would probably want to settle here, our client believes setting them up financially from the start is the right move. If you can play a part in that, well, I am sure I don't have to tell you that you won't get a better opportunity than this, do I?" he asked as he finished his spiel. If this didn't turn the goblin, nothing he said any further would be able to.

Dasez was dumbstruck at the stupidity he was seeing from a wizard who he had thought to be better than others of his kind. He was setting up his client to fail with the kind of contract he was asking him to set up. No investment he had ever done had gained even 10 per cent of the profit and the smaller holdings were known to be the top gainers. With a stipulation like that, that gold was as good as his own. He was trying hard to figure out how the wizard could be playing him but think as he might, he couldn't understand the how of it all.

One thing the wizard had said was true though, he would not ever get a better opportunity than this.

With the impulsiveness that spoke of the lesser experience of the young goblin, Dasez agreed with a single sharp nod. "I'll have the contract written up and waiting tomorrow, gentlemen. We can discuss other particulars then. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lot to do in addition to figuring out the details of our little arrangement," he said before jumping down from his chair, clueing them in that they were stretching their welcome.

Getting the message, Harry and Sirius got up from their seats. Harry picked up the piece of parchment on which he had written the amount for the first deposit and with a single nod to Dasez, both left the office.

It wasn't too long before they were walking on the streets of Diagon just outside the bank. When they were sufficiently away from the goblin territory, Sirius cuffed the back of Harry's head. "What the fuck did you do, Harold?! Is that why you planned such an elaborate heist, hunh? Just to fill up those damn creatures' bellies. I cannot believe you just promised him half of the money. And here I was thinking you had some brains in you after all," Sirius shook his head disappointingly.

Harry looked at his godfather and sighed. There hadn't been any time to fill Sirius in on his impromptu plan. It was understandable that Sirius would react the way he did. Things like these didn't even register on his problem radar anymore. The fears he had of disappointing his family had long since passed. He had accepted the fact. He had, in fact, disappointed his family. He had disappointed his parents by turning out to be a killer, had disappointed Sirius by letting him die by making the stupidest mistake of his life, he had even disappointed his wife by letting her get killed by the hands of the craven monsters who haunted these lands. He had been carrying the weight of all these disappointments most of his life. He was pretty much used to it by now. And it was these disappointments that had given him the right perspective.

Turning slightly to look at Sirius, he replied. "You have trusted me this far, Sirius. I am just asking for a little more for a little while longer. I know what I agreed to in there looks like a foolish deal but it is anything but. You will know it soon enough. And just to prove my point, did you see the amount I put up as the first deposit?" he asked patiently.

Sirius looked at him in confused anger before replying, "What does it matter how much you put up?"

Harry simply handed him the parchment with the quotation of the first deposit written on it.

Sirius stopped mid-step, his eyes fixed on the piece of parchment. When he saw Harry had moved on ahead, he hurried to catch up. "Harold it's…its just…"

"Just a quarter of the stash, yeah, I know," Harry interrupted. "I have no wish to trust the goblins with more than I have to. We'll only be depositing half the money with them. I have plans for the other half. The gob…" He paused mid-sentence when something as a sudden realisation struck his brain.

'The old goblin!'

Bowrod knew the connection between House Kent and a new account opening request. If the DOM had any contacts at Gringotts and he would bet his ass they did, he was screwed. He did a quick rehash of the conversations from their meeting in his mind and reached a single conclusion. He had to limit the exposure. And there was only one way to do that. "Sirius, I forgot, I had to buy some things from the apothecary. I am running low on some of the ingredients and the lunar eclipse is in two days. It is more than likely we would need some to brew some potions for the activities we have planned for then. I'll meet you back at the cottage, yeah?"

Sirius frowned at the sudden interruption in their conversation but decided to let it slide. He could get his answers back at the cottage just the same as here. Nodding at the kid-wizard, he left for the nearest apparition point.

Harry briskly walked inside the bank knowing he was running close to the hour for the effects of the Polyjuice potion to start wearing off. Asking for and getting the permission to see account manager Dasez, he walked to his office. Knocking once he entered without waiting for a reply. Before the goblin could say anything, Harry leaned over the goblin's desk and wrote just one word on the parchment.

Bowrod.

Dasez's eyes widened again when he understood what he meant. He jerked his head upwards to look right at Harry and hissed. "Him too? You're sure?"

"I would tell you the client he has been colluding with as well, but I am sure you wouldn't like to be involved in the wizarding side of things. Seeing as I got the information from my source just a couple of minutes ago, I'd best hurry if I were you," he replied cryptically. Even if the young goblin decided to investigate the claim, he was sure, with the kind of thoughts that had been running in Bowrod's mind from the brief legilimency he'd performed on him, the old goblin had mere days to live. Which helped him just as much as it did Dasez. And if he made the young goblin believe that he had an inside source within Gringotts it would just be the icing on the cake.

His message given, Harry walked out of the office and had barely managed to get himself to the apparition point before his body started to shift back.

It was a close call.

But then again, with his luck, it was bound to be nothing but.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Amelia Bones was in her office, trying and failing to concentrate on the moderately sized stack of parchments on her desk. The newest debacle from the Minister had generated quite a significant amount of follow-ups for many departments in the ministry, which obviously included her own.

What wasn't helping, in the slightest, was that everything that was required for them to be able to actually file their work, they had to requisition from the Minister's office. Be it the evidence from their various raids to a simple inquiry regarding the proper forms filled by the Aurors under the Minister's staff.

She had already received warning disguised as a generic statement from Senior Undersecretary Umbridge, twice, which stated that as the nature of the operations conducted during the apprehension of the dark forces was covert, Minister's office had sealed most of the reports and evidence under their authority which conveniently superseded everyone else's and for the security of the realm, it could not be bypassed, by anyone. While it had made cursing the bitch that much appealing, it still did nothing to help her or the other department heads with the matter.

It had been a little less than a week since she had had that enlightening conversation with Auror Captain Robards. When the shock of it all had lifted, she had spent a couple of thoughtful afternoons analyzing how she could go about unravelling the mystery. Since then, she had tapped many of her informants within the ministry, mostly muggleborn clerks, and found a multitude of discrepancies in the timeline that the Minister's goons had given her. They were isolated things, nothing that any other department heads would even look at twice.

One such example was the requisition forms for many Grade-1 and Grade-2 narcotics that have been filed much later than they were stated to have been used on a person of interest in a report one of Robard's boys had submitted.

It was understood that during an investigation, especially during covert operations, the paperwork did tend to get filed later than it was required to be. Hell, there were instances, she knew, where the correct forms had been found to be missing from the case files altogether. While the Aurors working on those cases had been severely reprimanded, mostly by her, the truth was as simple as that, such things were known to happen. But what wasn't known to happen nor was accepted, if found out, was the same thing happening with most of the other departments all in the span of the same period of time and the missing collaborating reports from anyone working in those departments.

And that was just one example. She was sure that there were numerous others that were hidden within the many files that had been sealed and possibly redacted under the authority of Minister's office.

While other department heads may have been placated by the Minister – given his recent rise to popularity, some might even be beckoned to his side by the weighty gold in their pockets – but after her chat with Robards, alarm bells were ringing in her head a hell of a lot louder than they had ever before.

As such, when she had seamed together these facts, it gave away many chinks in the story that the Minister had fed them all.

Even so, the simple truth was that even if she could get her hands on some of these transcripts which she couldn't, considering that they had been for 'Minister's eyes only', they would be dismissed as nothing more than circumstantial by the Wizengamot.

She had tried to send a few probes among the few obtuse people close to the minister but even they had been without success. It was disheartening, to say the least. The embers that had lit in her eyes when she had first caught Robards in his little lie were dimming in their intensity. The history was repeating itself. The chance to see the monsters suffer for murdering her brother and his family was slipping from hands, just like it had once before.

She was very close to descending to her previous pattern of ignoring everything else but her family when she heard a knock on her door.

Sighing irritably at the interruption, and promising herself to dock Miriam's pay for not doing her damn job, she barked her consent. "Enter."

A shaggy-haired head peeked in and she smothered her desire to curse out loud. It was as though she had just started noticing that she had been surrounded by morons most of her working life and that they were getting bolder by the minute. First had been that bastard Robards and then the minister of action Cornelius Obstinate Fudge himself, and now him.

This particular moron had been circling her for quite some time. Given his reputation, she was somewhat sure of his intentions. What confused her though, was his subtle hints about certain individuals that had been involved with him in the supposedoperation. Either it was his bizarre way of getting her attention or the time he had spent among the other morons had addled his brain. The Sirius Black she knew, little as she did, hadn't been stupid. Cheeky, Yes. Somewhat sapid, yes. But stupid? No, Sirius Black had never been stupid.

His voice brought her out of her thoughts. "Madam Bones! Hope you're well?" he asked, flashing her a smile she was loathed to admit was quite charming.

"Well enough, Lord Black. How can I help you?" she said, coming straight to the point and gestured with her hand for him to take a seat.

Sirius seemed to deflate a bit at that, presumably having understood that she wasn't in the mood to be charmed. "Ah, we will get to that. But first, I believe I should tell you that for this meeting, at least at first, I will be playing the part of a messenger, Regent Bones," said Sirius, taking the offered seat.

If he was hoping for an active response from the woman after referring to her other title as the Regent of Noble and Most Ancient House of Bones, he was sorely disappointed. Amelia's only visible reaction was an elegantly raised left brow.

After a short staring contest, in which Sirius' face didn't betray his thoughts as she was hoping it might, she sighed. "May I ask who this message is from, Lord Black?"

"Certainly," Sirius replied.

When he didn't say anything else, she scowled at him. "Well?"

"Well what, Regent Bones?" asked Sirius, his voice tinged with suppressed humour.

Amelia visibly collected herself and breathed in deeply to keep herself from strangling the man. "Who. Is. The Message. From, Lord Black?" she asked with gritted teeth.

"That, I am afraid, I cannot disclose at the moment," Sirius answered, emphasizing his supposed inability.

Now, this caught her attention. "Do you expect me to believe that you, a Lord of a Noble and Most Ancient House, bound yourself to an oath?" she asked sceptically.

Sirius' face didn't change and he replied with his usual nonchalance. "Something similar, yes."

Intrigued despite herself, Amelia motioned for him to continue.

"You see, Regent Bones, I have been approached by a house to float an idea in front of you. They wish to see how willing your house might be of joining your house with their own by the way of matrimony. Now, it's nothing concrete yet, they simply wanted to understand how Lord and Lady Bones would react to such an offer. It is their understanding that Lord Bones have named you Regent for the house because they do not wish to indulge in the political quagmire that is our Wizengamot. Hence I was asked to approach you. I wouldn't even consider doing such a thing for anyone if I hadn't discovered that House Black owed them a favour or two in the past. And since we do, I am asked to inquire about your opinion on the matter." Even as he started speaking, Sirius was signalling with his hands, putting two fingers on his left ear, he made a cross sign with the other hand once and then waved it twice.

If Amelia was expecting anything, this was definitely not it. While she had known Sirius to have been an Auror years ago, to see him use a skill he had learned, howsoever briefly, in such a manner was highly unusual, even from him.

Though she had understood his signal, she was still considering whether to give him what he wanted even as he completed the gibberish he was spouting off for anyone's benefit. There have been many assassination attempts on her in her long career as a field operative and then the Director of the DMLE. This looked like a moderately good enough setup for another. It was only her strong belief in her still sharp skills with her wand and the confidence that she could drop Sirius relatively quickly before his hand reached anywhere near his wand coupled with a chance to talk to a person who had been involved in the latest mess the ministry was hosting, edged her decision towards granting his request.

Hearing Sirius still droning something about what the offer from the mysterious house entailed, she gave him a sharp nod and replied, "Of course Lord Black. I appreciate you coming to me with such a request. I believe the idea wouldn't have been entertained by my Lord Bones. But a better way to approach would have been something much less formal. A lunch get together perhaps? For now, though, this meeting is impeding my working hours and as you can see by the parchments stacked on my desk, I have much to do still. How about we meet next week? I am sure I'll be able to fit you in my schedule."

Sirius got up from the seat and moved towards the door. "Much appreciated, Madam Bones. I will send an owl with their answer, whatever it may be. Thank you for your time." With that, he opened the door and closed it with a soft thud.

Sirius was still in her office though. Having just played the scene for the benefit of the possible listener in case of her office having any listening charms or the like.

With agility that came with experience, Amelia took out her wand and in a scant few seconds, her desk was warded with an Auror grade silencing ward. When she was about to open her mouth to speak, Sirius lifted his finger to his lips and brought out his own wand and started casting a spell, the wand movements for which, she hadn't ever seen before. And considering the kind of knowledge she had, it was saying something. She felt was something akin to a wave pass through her, the telltale signs of a ward encompassing her. Thinking it to be similar to an anti-surveillance ward of Black's own, she uncoiled slightly.

"Now that you have got your cone of silence, mind telling me why this was necessary and what you really want, Lord Black?" she asked without preamble.

"Sirius, please Madam Bones. I believe the conversation we are about to have will need some level of trust and familiarity between us," Sirius said before getting back into his just vacated seat.

Amelia looked at him with sharp eyes for a moment before she slowly nodded. "Very well. Amelia then. Now please answer my question."

Sirius nodded. "This was necessary, yes, because there are people in your department that have access to your office. No matter how sure are you of their allegiances, the people who asked me to take this meeting are sure that at least some of them, if not all, are answering to someone else besides you. Possibly multiple someones." When he saw she was about to tell him off or something similar, he spoke quickly. "Now, this isn't about that. Not for the moment, at least. This is about something much more important."

"You are alleging that some of my people are spies and you consider that not important?" she asked, anger lacing her tone.

Sirius was unperturbed by her tone. "At this moment, no, I do not. As I said, the matter I wish to discuss is far more important," he said with a grim expression.

Taking another deep breath and forgoing the issue of him being sent to her by someone else, Amelia sat back into her seat. "Alright then. You have five minutes to convince me. If you fail to do that, you and I will be crossing wands,and I assure you, Sirius, you will not be coming out untouched when I am done."

"Fair enough," he shrugged. "let's start with some simple questions first. You have read the reports of the recent operation?"

"I have. What of it?" she replied, tightening the grip on her wand that was sitting on her thigh.

"There were some names mentioned in one of the reports you received from Auror Captain Robards. What are your thoughts on the criminals who were reportedly killed?" Sirius asked. Even though he had posed it as a question, Sirius was sure that she understood what he was implying when he saw her eye twitch, ever so slightly.

"I think they got what anyone would if they broke the number of laws those criminals had broken," Amelia answered not quite able to keep the pretence of normalcy when talking about the butchers.

"Hmm. Even Mr Runcorn, Amelia? You think he got what he deserved?" Sirius asked intently.

"As I said, they were criminals who had broken quite a number of our laws. They were given every opportunity to change their ways and they failed to do so. What happened in the operation…I support it," she answered.

Sirius had to hand it to her. She had said that with more calm that he knew he'd be able to muster if he was asked about the bastard he'd had to end. Regardless, he drove ahead. "I see. But correct me if I am wrong, I was not really in my right mind back then, having just lost my two closest friends, so there is a possibility that I may be mistaking the name, but I did hear that a Runcorn was killed in a raid conducted by you and your team during the time ministry was capturing the squirters after Voldemort fell. Now, I know of only two Runcorn brothers on either side of the spectrum myself, and since one of them is still alive and at present works in your own department, can you help me understand how a guy who was already K.I.A. got his name plastered on the list of casualties for an operation conducted five years later?"

"Why don't you tell me? You were involved in the operation after all. You would know the details better than I would, wouldn't you?" she shot back.

He paused. "I would, yes. But let's put a pin on it for now. I've got another question though… When did you get so rusty?" he asked almost conversationally.

"Excuse me?" As soon as the sharp words left her lips, everything below her neck down went numb at once. The wand in her hand slipped from her fingers and went clattering down on the floor and she dropped back in her chair as if her strings were cut. She was aware of everything around her, could see it just as she could before, but what she couldn't do was feel her body respond to any of her directions. It was highly disconcerting for a woman who wanted to be in control as much as she did and it showed as much from her scowling face and dangerously glaring eyes. While they did contain a little fear in them, the retribution that they promised, was far more prominent.

It was too bad for her that her captor wasn't much bothered by it. Sirius slowly stood up from his seat and flicked his wand at the doors, locking them shut.

"You see, a young friend of mine and I, we each have a theory," he began. "Me? I think that you have lost your way, Amelia. I think that after years of fighting and losing against these corrupt politicians and these murdering savages, you have finally decided to give in. Well, if you can't defeat them, join them. Right? So you have stopped pointing fingers and started dipping them in the same sludge that runs through their veins. Nobody would blame you for that. It's understandable. Human nature in fact," he shrugged.

"But my mate, he…he thinks you're just grown weary, Madam Bones. That you have grown tired of all the machinations and all the ploys that administrations like this one have been pulling long since. He thinks that given hope, you will get back up and join the fight again. He thinks that you still want to believe that someone, somewhere is doing something to prevent these vermins from taking over, even if you can't do anything about it anymore. He thinks that your blood still boils when you think about Edger's murderers getting away without so much as a slap on their wrists. That you think of ripping their hearts from their chests when you are alone at night. That you're still, deep down, waiting for justice nay for revenge."

By now, there was magic rolling off of Amelia in waves. While she couldn't escape her invisible bonds nor could feel her body, her fierce-looking eyes glared daggers at Sirius even as he circled her desk as he spoke. But even then, she didn't let the tears in her eyes leave her stony eyes. Sirius was sure that if he let her loose this instance, he would not have been able to save himself from her wrath, even with his wand in hand.

No matter her response, this was necessary. He and Harold had fought over this very thing for hours. Harold was of the mind that they couldn't yet trust the woman because of her actions and more importantly inactions as of date. And his own thinking was along the lines of bringing Amelia into the fold if only so they had another inside source excluding him.

But it didn't change the facts. The fact that whatever decision they made, they had to make sure that she wouldn't become a liability. The reason for such a thought was the results of their research into her. They had found out that the rate of successful prosecutions in the past few years had dwindled from an acceptable to a free for all. The day to day happenings of the Auror department was more or less being handled by one of her Master Aurors, Rufus Scrimgeour, in Amelia's stead and he was doing a shoddy job of it. Amelia had, for all intents and purposes, given up on prosecuting any and all criminals by herself even when the Aurors in charge of the cases had been able to collect ample evidence. It was no secret that Scrimgeour had his eyes set on Amelia's chair ever since her claws had been cut. And Scrimgeour being the political animal that he was, was playing his cards in favour of those who would back him in his race to become the new head of the DMLE.

It was truly disheartening to have to find out that the state of affairs of a community that had boasted to have birthed the most wizened warlocks of all times to have degraded this low.

While this didn't mean that Wizarding Britain was becoming a thief's paradise, considering that the matters that involved the head of DMLE to take part in person were few and far between, it still did affect their community. The Aurors were still doing their jobs and an average witch or wizard still lived their lives in relative peace.

But the big fish, the cunning savages, those death munchers, they still broke laws almost unimpeded.

For it to change and for them to know if they could bet on her, Amelia needed to be vetted.

Thoroughly.

And this was what he was doing right now.

He wasn't really bothered by the power rolling off of her. Harold had taught him the ward he had used earlier. There was no chance of her escaping. One thing he had learned about the kid was that he had a repertoire of spells that anybody would be hard-pressed to match. And Harold had promised him that the containing ward was capable of handling much more than what Amelia was capable of. What it didn't save him from though, was the murderous glare that he was receiving from her.

Soldering on, he attempted to channel her thoughts towards a proper target for her release. "I want to be wrong, Amelia. Oh, you have no idea how much I wish myself to be wrong. We may not have worked together even once, but the Amelia Bones I had heard of from the other Seniors was a resolute woman. She never admitted defeat. Never. Not when the odds weren't in her favour. Not for anything. Now I see here a woman who did nothing while the beasts picked off the carcasses of innocent at their leisure. What happened to that bold woman, Amelia? What happened to the woman who still wished to save the world? What happened to her, Amelia? WHAT HAPPENED TO HER?!" he shouted, his face close enough to her's that he could feel her hot, jagged, burning breath on his face.

"THEY KILLED HER BROTHER, YOU BASTARD! THOSE SAVAGES BUTCHERED HIM! THEY TORE HER WORLD APART! THEY KILLED EVERYONE! EVERYONE! They killed everyone…they… and they…got away…with it," she broke down after that. Sobbing, as tears, hot and fiery, flowed through her eyes and dripped down her cheeks. The emotions she had suppressed all those years, at this moment when she was bound and reminded of her failures, they all flared back again. Her inability to save the ones she loved. The blood, sweat, and tears she spent, all to see the monsters getting away without their comeuppance. The hate she felt to see them walk away unscathed even as she could see the blood of countless innocents from their hands. The numbness that followed. The pain and the heartbreak. It came alive again.

"Let it all out, Amelia," Sirius soothed waving his wand to remove the containment ward. When she moved to slap him, though he could see it coming, he let her. Catching her hand in his he held onto it. "Let it all out…"

Her body seemed to move on its own as she leaned on Sirius and let herself go.

She didn't know how long she cried, remembering her brother. She cried for her loss. She cried for everything that her brother had missed in his life. His family. It had been his greatest treasure. She cried for so long that when she finally came to, her eyes were rimmed red and her voice was hoarse. What surprised her the most was that Sirius was still sitting right beside her, holding her hand.

Seeing her coherent enough, Sirius looked right in her eyes. "The bastards who wronged you, Amelia. Those kinslayers, those butchers…I am not one of them, Amelia. I am not one of them. I think it's about time you knew the truth. And when I am done, you'd know why I had to do what I did. And when we're done with that, you'll have a present waiting for you.

"The one you've been waiting for all those years."

When she looked at him, more than a little confused, he gave her a savage grin in return.

"I have a feeling you'd remember this lunar eclipse forever, Madam Bones."

-x-x-x-x-x-

~ Review Please ~

A/N – Apologies for the delay, but the chapter was long enough that it took me a while to make the corrections and post it.

Elements used in the chapter –

0. Peelers, bobbies – British slang for cops.

1. Roy Francis Adkins was an English gangster. He was a recognized London gangland figure during the 1970s and 80s. Adkins started his career in robbery and, as with many criminal figures during that period, moved into drug smuggling, primarily cannabis.

2. Klaas Bruinsma was a major Dutch drug lord. He was shot dead on 27 June 1991 by organized crime member and former police officer Martin Hoogland. He was known as "De Lange" and also as "De Dominee" because of his black clothing and his habit of lecturing others. He was regarded as the most powerful drug smuggler in Mexico and with an estimated wealth of $25 billion also the richest trafficker.

3. Cleaning the money refers to laundering it.