5

Chapter 5 – Fortuitous Discoveries

Monday 14th December 1981

Hogwarts

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore sat in his office intently focused on a large piece of parchment that was unfolded on his desk in front of him. He'd been sporadically checking it at various times since he had obtained the scruffy-looking parchment from Argus Filch's cabinet of confiscated contraband.

Sirius Back had explained what he would need to look for and, slightly reluctantly, handed over the password to what he called the 'Marauders' Map' the previous week.

It was ingenious, Dumbledore decided. He had no idea how they had tied the entire population of the castle into this magical artefact, regardless of whether they were in the building at the time of the map's creation or not and he made a mental note to quiz both Sirius and Remus on its construction at a later date.

Right now, he was focused on a dot that represented Ravenclaw fifth year Sheldon Braithwaite.

The headmaster had noticed young Mister Braithwaite disappearing from the map in a strange place – in the middle of a seventh floor corridor. Initially he had feared that the boy had thrown himself out of a window, but a quick check of the grounds relieved his fears, and an hour or so later the dot representing the fifth year reappeared exactly where it had previously been.

That in itself was an oddity – Dumbledore couldn't recall anything of interest at that spot in the seventh floor. The only thing in the vicinity was a tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy and he was very sure that the tapestry hadn't occupied the Ravenclaw's attention for a full hour.

To make sure, he'd taken a stroll to that particular spot in the castle and was unsurprised to find it exactly as he had remembered it, and of minimal note.

So, for the last few days he'd kept a close eye on the movements of Braithwaite whenever he was out of class, and he'd been rewarded a short while ago when, exiting the Great Hall after his dinner, Braithwaite had headed for the seventh floor again, and once more he disappeared from the Marauder' Map.

Not wanting to stand around simply waiting on the seventh floor for the young man's reappearance, the Headmaster kept a close eye on the map with the intent of intercepting Braithwaite as he returned to his common room. Once it was clear that was where the young man was headed, Dumbledore left his office and made his way towards the entrance to Ravenclaw tower.

"Might I have a few moments of your time, Mister Braithwaite?" he asked as he reached the portrait that guarded the entrance to the common room just as the Ravenclaw was about to reach for the eagle-head knocker.

The youth looked around with a slightly guilty jump, but quickly composed himself.

"Certainly, Headmaster," he said politely. "Did you want to come into the common room?"

"Actually, I thought we might take a stroll," the Headmaster said, "and you can show me where you are disappearing to up on the seventh floor."

Another guilty look flashed across the Ravenclaw's face.

"Sorry, sir?" he extemporised.

"You aren't in any trouble for this, my boy," Dumbledore assured him. "Not unless you've really got something to hide."

"No, sir." Braithwaite responded. "But I was starting to hope that nobody else knew about it."

"Come. Show me," the Headmaster insisted, and accompanied the boy back up to the corridor where he had noticed him disappearing.

"I thought I had found all the secret rooms around the castle," he said amicably as they walked, "but Hogwarts does like to keep us all on our toes. Why, I remember a time I was out in the dead of night and had a desperate need for a bathroom, only to open a door that led into a room that had hundreds of chamberpots!"

"That sounds what this room might be, sir. I had lost my Charms textbook and asked one of the House Elves where things that were lost and rediscovered were stored, and they directed me to the seventh floor. They said you had to walk up and down in front of the tapestry three times thinking about what you were looking for."

"Ingenious!" Dumbledore said brightly. "And did you find your textbook?"

"Oh yes, eventually, but there were an awful lot of books to search through. That's why I've been coming back – there might be something really useful in one of these old books."

They eventually reached the right corridor, and Braithwaite showed the Headmaster what he had done to make the room appear, and a highly-polished door with a brass handle appeared before them.

"Fantastic!" the Headmaster said in delight.

Braithwaite reached for the handle, but then looked tentatively back at Dumbledore.

"By all means go ahead," the Headmaster urged him. "It's your show."

The door opened out into a room with hundreds of desks, all piled with books. He picked on up and looked at it.

"'Reliable Roots and Virtuous Vines' by Jeremiah Juniper," he exclaimed in delight. "I haven't seen a copy of this for about sixty years." He flicked through the pages. "No name in it or anything. I wonder how these get here?"

"I don't know, sir, but there's thousands of books. I've seen at least a dozen copies of our first-year Transfiguration textbook."

"Well, if the House Elves know about this place, perhaps it is they that brings them here."

There was only one way to find out.

"Jinky!" the Headmaster called.

The Elf appeared with a quiet 'pop'.

"Yes, Headmaster sir?"

"Where do all these books come from?" he asked.

"These are books left behind, Headmaster. Books with no name in them that are left in common rooms or elsewhere around the castle where they isn't supposed to be being at end of each year. House Elves bring them here for safe keeping."

"What about other lost things?"

"They come here too," the Elf replied. "You have to know what you have lost to be able to find it."

Dumbledore thought for a minute.

"So if I had lost Galleons or Sickles, I would need to be thinking about money I had lost when I was trying to get into the room?" he asked.

"Yes, Headmaster sir. Students much more careful with Galleons than with their books, sir. So not much Galleons. More in Knuts, Headmaster, sir."

"And other objects, Jinky?"

"Many, many other objects sir."

"Thank you, Jinky, you've been a great help," he told the Elf and was rewarded with a wide smile before the Elf popped away.

"As have you, Mister Braithwaite," he assured the student. "I'll have to see that all these 'missing' books get a home found for them, and I'm sure that unless I come across anything dangerous we'll be able to house most of them in the Library or in the Ravenclaw common room."

He gave the fifth year a stern glance.

"I assume I needn't caution you on spreading news of this room further," he said prohibitively. "It wouldn't do to find your fellow Ravenclaws all camped out in here trying to decide which books they desperately needed," he added in a somewhat lighter tone.

"No sir," Braithwaite promised, perhaps slightly relieved that he wasn't being asked about using it as a possible trysting place, which had been one of his first thoughts when he had discovered what the room did.

Several hours later, the Headmaster was back in his office with what he believed to be Rowena Ravenclaw's lost diadem on his desk in front of him.

He had spent several hours experimenting with what the 'Room of Hidden Things', as Jinky described it to him, could do, and had been by turns delighted, fascinated, alarmed and amused at the possibilities.

Clearly it was going to have to be made off limits to students unaccompanied by a teacher. The potential for it to be used as what he thought the older years called a 'love nest' was far too dangerous (and would no doubt lead to jealousy, fights and all sorts of other trouble if multiple couples found out about it!).

However, as a resource it would clearly be of massive benefit to the teaching staff – that the room could be configured in so many different ways and for so many different purposes meant that if its use was carefully controlled then classes from all years could benefit.

He'd been careful not to spend too much time dwelling on what benefits this could bring, and focused on finding out more and more about the room.

Eventually, something made him recall the visit that Voldemort had made to Hogwarts in order to try and procure the Defence Against the Dark Arts job. What if, whilst he was here in the castle, he had hidden something that contained a Horcrux amongst all the detritus and 'lost' items of centuries of students? That would certainly make sense and would align with Riddle's fondness for Hogwarts as a refuge from the orphanage when he was a child. It would probably also appeal to his sense of irony, that by protecting the school Dumbledore was also protecting one of his Horcruxes.

His aim to find a room 'where I can hide something' bore almost immediate fruit.

Whilst the room that appeared was indeed full of objects (many of which seemed unlikely to have been left behind by a student) he was drawn inexorably towards an old marble bust of a pockmarked wizard with an unruly wig upon its head, whereupon sat a faded and discoloured old tiara.

Something about the tiara reminded him forcibly of the feel that the locket had given him prior to destroying it, and he was certain that this too was a Horcrux.

Before trying to destroy it, he had spoken to the Grey Lady – Helena Ravenclaw – about it.

"Yes, that's the real thing," the ghost told him sadly. "I know it all too well. I stole it from my Mother, you see."

A bemused Headmaster listened to the ghost's harrowing tale of jealousy, betrayal, murder and suicide.

"It seems so long since I last told this tale to someone," she sighed. "Of those who learn that I am the daughter of the school's Founder most only seek the diadem for the promise of intelligence gained, and so few are interested in my life. Seldom is anyone interested in the relics of the Founders for their individual history or their own sake, only for the powers that they think can be bestowed upon them by such artefacts."

"The last time you told your story, dear, would that have been to a young Tom Riddle?"

"How did you know?" she asked in a surprised voice.

"He had an unhealthy interest in the Founders' relics. It was he who tainted your Mother's tiara with his own soul piece."

The ghost looked disgusted, but shrugged her shoulders and began to drift away.

"Do as you will with it," she permitted. "It is of no use to me any longer and, besmirched as it is, it holds little comfort to living or dead."

===AMCR-AMCR===AMCR-AMCR===

Sunday 20th December 1981

Little Hangleton

"Remind me what we're doing here," Sirius said with a shiver, digging his hands deeper into the pockets of his heavy cloak. "It's utterly freezing! Couldn't this have waited until sometime warmer?"

Alice looked at him and rolled her eyes. It was only about the fourth time – so far – that Sirius had complained about the cold, and they'd barely been here an hour, hidden back in the trees watching over the shack that Voldemort's Mother had once called home.

"It's a trap," she reminded him. "Not much point in setting a trap if you aren't going to be there to trigger it when the bait is taken."

"Why set it now, though?"

"Because it's fresh intelligence," the auxiliary Auror told him. "Once Scrimgeour pinned Rookwood down as the leak within the Ministry he was able to feed him information that would bring Lestrange here."

"Here?"

"Yes. Here. She's determined to bring her Dark Lord back isn't she? Well, this is where she'll think she has to come to do it. We've been through this already, Sirius. What's your problem?"

It had taken some time for the Head Auror to winnow his way down to the Unspeakable and Auror Co-ordinator Augustus Rookwood as the mole within the Ministry, but he was convinced now, and some subtle manipulation of the information Rookwood was trusted with had brought the truth out, though there were still only a small cadre who had been entrusted with the knowledge.

Frank and Alice were among them, and they had been tasked with setting up this particular ambush, allowed to call upon non-Auror allies to make it less obviously an official raid.

This was the big one, though. Scrimgeour and Dumbledore had spent a lot of time looking over the Headmaster's memories of Tom Riddle, and eventually concluded that this was a likely resting place for one of the Horcruxes. Frank and another colleague – an expert curse breaker - had already been here and confirmed it to be the case (though they were careful not to disturb the item itself), and there had been watchers here ever since Rookwood had been carefully fed the location of the item.

This was Sirius's third stint watching over the shack, but the first since the cold snap had arrived the previous morning and, never having been the most patient of men, he was already getting antsy.

"Can't we just destroy the bloody Horcrux and go home?" he asked plaintively.

"No. Stop whining," Alice said. "You know why we're doing it this way. It's important to get Lestrange while we can."

"I know. It's just bloody cold," he complained again.

Alice gave him a long look, and he shut up.

They were there for another hour an a half (and three more complaints from Sirius) before their vigil bore fruit.

The sound of Apparation echoed from a short distance away, and after a few moments voices began to carry through the cold morning air loud enough to be heard by the watchers, even though they were spoken fairly quietly.

"This? This is just a hovel," the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange came through the air.

Alice carefully peeked between the branches of the tree she had hidden in.

"Yes, but it's where his Mother grew up. She was as Pure-blood as all-get-out, and of Slytherin's direct line, but dirt poor. She didn't even go to Hogwarts."

"How do you even know that's true, Rookwood?" a third voice asked.

"You wouldn't believe the sorts of things you can discover in the Department of Mysteries when you have easy access to it, Mulciber," Rookwood replied. "Apparently we're looking for an old golden ring with a black stone."

"Yessss," hissed Lestrange. "Slytherin's ring."

"Allegedly," Rookwood said shortly. "Plenty of rumours about it as well."

"Is it really one of the Deathly Hallows?" another voice asked. "The resurrection stone?"

Rookwood scoffed. "Children's fairy tales."

"Even if it were, you certainly wouldn't be getting your hands on it, Travers," Lestrange said shrilly. "The Dark Lord will want it back when we find him."

Back in the trees, Alice and Sirius watched and waited.

"That's all of them," Alice said softly, having cast a detection charm to see if the Death Eaters had left anyone as a guard. "Call in and get our reinforcements," she added.

Sirius slid down the tree quietly and transformed into his Animagus form, quietly slinking away between the trees and through to the other side of the small copse from the shack, until he was well away and his own Apparation wouldn't be heard.

If all went to plan, Sirius would be back in less than ten minutes with the group of a dozen Aurors that were on standby for just this purpose.

Meanwhile Alice silently started a long incantation that would raise Apparation Wards over the area in front of her, covering the whole of the Gaunt house and a circle of about fifty yards around it. It was a long and tricky piece of magic and to be done without those inside the circumference of the spell noticing it had to be drawn out slowly and carefully.

Eventually, she was happy with her work and released the spell, letting it flow gently over the area.

"What was that?" came an almost immediate shout from in front of her, and she peered through the trees again to see what was happening. Someone out there must have been particularly sensitive to this kind of magic.

"You think that the Dark Lord left here without putting protections on the place?" Rookwood said with a sneer.

The man identified as Travers looked around nervously.

"I dunno," he said. "Felt more like Anti-apparation wards going up," he said.

"Don't be bloody ridiculous, you idiot," Rookwood replied. "Nothing's going to hurt us here. Even if there was someone out there that just means they're now trapped in here with us. We'll deal with anyone else once we're done here."

Lestrange and Mulciber conferred briefly and quietly, and entered the shack, with Rookwood and Travers standing at the doorway.

"Get in here, Rookwood," Alice heard Lestrange shout out. "I need some help."

Rookwood disappeared into the hovel as well, leaving Travers at the doorway, looking around very nervously.

"Of course it's a fucking trap, you idiot," she heard Rookwood shout, and feared for a moment that they had been rumbled. "If it's what it's supposed to be then he'd hardly leave it lying around unprotected, you fuckwit."

Alice heard shrieking and moaning coming from inside the hut.

"No, I have no idea what sort of curse it is," Rookwood's voice came out. "But on the plus side, you can die knowing that you helped our cause immensely. Isn't that exactly what you swore to our Master?"

"Please! Please, no! No! No!" the shrieks came.

"Fuck it! Avada Kedavra!"

And the shrieks stopped with one last gurgling scream.

"Is that it, Bella?" Alice heard, the voices having grown louder as the initial care not to be heard dropped away – if nothing else Mulciber's screams would already have given them away.

"Looks like it. Here, what do you think? Should I put it on? It's ugly as fuck, but damn insistent."

"I wouldn't risk it, Bella. Come on, lets get out of here. We've got what we came for."

Alice was distracted as Rookwood said that at the approach of Sirius in his Grim form once more, leading the Aurors.

"Just in time, Sirius," she said urgently. "They're getting ready to leave."

The fourteen of them made their way forwards out of the cover of the trees and towards the shack. Travers seemed to be slightly distracted by the emergence of Rookwood and Lestrange from the building, which gave the Aurors time to cross about a third of the sixty yards between them.

"Fuck it! Aurors!" shouted Rookwood as he looked up. "Get out of here!"

He turned as though to Apparate away, but was thwarted by Alice's ward.

"I told you there were Anti-apparation wards going up, Rookwood!" Travers screamed at him, but the moments that he wasted in remonstrating with his fellow Death Eater were ones that he didn't have, and a curse from one of the Aurors blasted him back into the shack wall, where he remained motionless.

Even outnumbered fourteen to two, Rookwood and Lestrange were still a force as they fought back, unafraid of those that had been sent against them.

Unhampered by any feeling of restriction on using the Unforgivables, both Death Eaters were quick with Killing Curses, and two of the Aurors went down almost instantly, quickly reducing the disadvantage in numbers.

Eventually, though, there were just too many Aurors. Rookwood was the first to fall, a blasting curse piercing his heretofore robust shield and sending him flying through the air, where he was immediately stunned and tied by Alice's quick wand work.

It only fuelled Lestrange's anger though, and her curses gained another degree of intensity.

Only when she began to tire and started to realise that the numbers would be far too great did she give any thought to the possibility that she might be captured or killed, and in that moment the madness finally reached her eyes, as she cast Fiendfyre right into the heart of the Auror attackers.

The swirling mass of semi-sentient flames immediately took out three of the Aurors, as it gained in mass, mutating into a billowing pack of beasts made fire, as dragons and serpents of flame soared around them and scattered the Aurors around as they sought to escape from the inferno. Sirius tried to quell the fire with a blast from a water cannon charm, and whilst that pushed the flames back and away from him and his compatriots, it didn't extinguish them, and a host of steam arose where the two spells collided, hissing and spitting as water met fire and the elemental forces battled.

All of a sudden, the flames reared back from the wall of water and sought another source of combustible material, turning back upon the Gaunt hut.

Lestrange screamed as she tried to retain control of the spell, forcing her will into the process as her body tired and weakened, but she was unable to retain control, and the flames turned back upon her and devoured their creator, the crackling of the fire combining with Lestrange's screams to generate a bone-chilling sound, which was only magnified as her body was consumed and the Gaunt ring was caught in the fire, emitting an unearthly screech as a black mist flowed away from it.

The Aurors, now able to focus solely on their water cannon charms rather than having to defend from Lestrange's curses, were able to strengthen themselves against the force of the Fiendfyre that was starting to die down with its creator's death, and managed to get it under control.

Alice moved among the downed Aurors to check upon them. Even with such strong odds, four were dead – two to Killing Curses and two to the Fiendfyre – but one was still alive.

"Sirius! Get this one to St Mungo's!" she ordered as she quickly assessed the Auror's injuries, and realised he needed critical attention.

She brought down her anti-Apparition ward and allowed him to side-along the injured Auror away.

Checking among the remainder of the squad revealed a large number of less severe injuries, mostly burns from the fire, and she attended to them fairly quickly.

"McKinnell, report back to HQ and let them know how things went here," she instructed. "I'll be back to look over your report in half an hour before we finalise it and present it to Scrimgeour."

The named Auror popped out, and Alice looked around at the remainder of them.

"Everyone else okay?" she asked.

Nobody suggested otherwise, so she directed the removals of Lestrange's remains, badly charred and noisome though they were and a search through what was left of her belongings. Her wand had burned up in the fire, as had much of her clothing, but there were still some metal remnants that needed examination to check that they were not of significance before they too were disposed of. A ring on her right hand with a black stone looked to be the only thing of value, and it matched the description Dumbledore had given them of the potential Horcrux.

"Crossley! Get Rookwood back to the Ministry holding cells, please," she ordered. "Wand, belongings, et cetera checked in and gone over, then meet with McKinnell and myself. Half an hour."

Crossley and another Auror went over to the still-stunned form of Rookwood, hauled him up and departed with him.

"Hoult! You and Flunder get to check over Travers by the doorway! Same routine. Half an hour. Sirius, you're with me. Everyone else back to HQ. Write up your own drafts and check with one another. If we need you for corroboration we'll speak to you within the hour. Otherwise you're free to finish your shift at-" she looked at her watch "-two thirty."

The Aurors set to their appointed tasks or left, as directed, and Alice pulled Sirius to one side as he Apparated back to them, having left his charge in the capable hands of the St Mungo's staff.

"Where are we going?" he asked.

"There's still one Death Eater to check on," she reminded him. "Mulciber's in there and we don't know exactly what happened to him before Rookwood put him out of his misery."

"What?"

"Oh, you weren't here then, were you. It sounded like Mulciber tripped one of Voldemort's traps and was in agony, then Rookwood AK'd him."

"Umm... okay."

"Don't touch anything," she warned. "There might be other traps in there that are still active."

"Good point."

As they approached the shack, both took additional time to deploy charms to check for any traps or other nasty surprises that might still remain, but saw nothing until they reached the door way.

Peering in, they could see the still body of what must have been Mulciber, his face in a rictus of agony, but barely identifiable, as all the skin they could see was blackened and charred.

Alice winced. Whatever had done this to Mulciber wasn't something she was familiar with, but it rather looked as though Rookwood's Killing Curse really had been a mercy blow to his fellow Death Eater.

"Nasty," Sirius commented, looking over her shoulder at the corpse.

"Any ideas?"

"Looks like some sort of withering curse," he replied, "but not sure how it's managed to spread quite so quickly. Most of the ones I know about would take days at least to spread throughout the body like that."

He shuddered. "I can ask around, if you want, but not sure it makes a lot of difference now."

Alice nodded.

"True. Not as though you'd get time to counter it if you ever ran into it, either, based on what I heard. He was only screaming for moments before he was killed."

They started casting spells to see if there was anything else here that needed their attention.

"Anything?" Alice asked.

"Nothing obvious or active," Sirius said, "but a lot of traces of lingering Dark Magic."

"It seems protective in nature..." Alice suggested tentatively.

"Yeah, but it still feels like a whole load of nasty."

"Anything else we need to know?"

"I don't think so."

"Okay. I'll have Scrimgeour send a forensic team out to go over it."

"Be best to have the whole place incinerated," Sirius said sombrely. "Maybe even salt the earth too. Anything they can do to erase the stain of this place. It has... unhappy... feelings to it, even beneath to dark magic taint."

"I'll pass that on," Alice said, "but it'll depend on what the forensics say, too."

===AMCR-AMCR===AMCR-AMCR===

Thursday 24th December 1981

Ministry of Magic

Christmas Eve was always a quiet day in the Ministry. Whether the workers celebrated Yule, or Christmas, or didn't celebrate the occasion at all, the Department Heads knew that work was generally slow at this time of year and were more than willing to allow staff to take their Holidays. Only a skeleton staff remained, manning the welcome desk, overseeing the Elf staff and finalising details before they left for their own break.

Whilst it was quiet, Rufus Scrimgeour was taking the opportunity to review what his teams had brought him on the Lestrange case.

The death of Bellatrix Lestrange was a big win for his Department, no matter how fortuitous it had been, and the deaths of four Aurors, whilst tragic in isolation, was the sort of price he had expected to have to pay in order to remove the psychotic witch from the table. It might have seemed callous, but that was how things worked in Magical Law Enforcement. Sometimes sacrifices had to be made, and Scrimgeour likened it to war, given that both sides were essentially armed with lethal weapons and the Death Eaters were intending to take the Government down.

He and Dumbledore had viewed the memories of the Aurors on the scene when Lestrange had been consumed by her own Fiendfyre, and were confident that the ring that she had retrieved from the Gaunt shack had indeed been a Horcrux – and that it too was now destroyed. As the raging inferno had attacked the ring it had responded in a very similar way to the Diary Horcrux that they had previously disposed of.

The death of Mulciber and captures of Travers and Rookwood were icing on the cake, and the intelligence they might get from them would be important.

Not that he expected to get very much out of Rookwood, he considered. The former Unspeakable would be well versed in protecting his mind and would have built up an immunity to veritaserum as a matter of course through his employment in the Department of Mysteries, but you never knew what nuances someone might slip up with, even someone so skilled and wary.

He was a little surprised that Rookwood was still alive, given the assassinations of other notables that had been accomplished in the holding cells, which gave him an even greater suspicion that it had been Rookwood that had set them up, if he had not undertaken the killings himself.

His musings were disturbed by a tentative tap at his door.

"Come in," he invited.

The balding red head of Arthur Weasley popped his head around the door rather shyly.

"Have you got a moment, Rufus?" he asked.

"Come in, come in, Arthur. No need to be stuck halfway out into the corridor."

Weasley entered, carrying a cage of some sort, and was directed to the seat in front of the Head Auror's desk.

"I'm surprised you're still here. I would have thought that you would have been at home on a day like today, sorting out your family festivities."

"Ah... I let Molly see to all that," Weasley replied, slightly embarrassed. "She likes to make sure that the kids are all well-occupied

"Even so, you should know by now that we're no sticklers for keeping everyone in the office at Christmas," Scrimgeour replied. "Anyway, what can I do for you, Arthur?"

Weasley lifted up the cage that he had carried in and set in the desk in front of him.

"It's this," he said. "I found this rat scurrying around our office this morning, and it seems to be magical in some way, but I couldn't figure out how. I thought, perhaps, if there wasn't likely to be a problem with it, I might take him home and allow my son Percy to care for it.

"He's been going on for months about wanting to have a pet for Christmas, but... well... we can't really afford to spend money on an extravagance like that, and I thought it might be good for him to have something to care for that wasn't going to cause a lot of trouble," he rambled on, "or cost us a lot of money."

Scrimgeour frowned.

"Doesn't the Ministry pay enough for you to be able to look after your family with more comfort, Arthur? I would have thought this well within your means."

Arthur reddened heavily.

"Well... that is... I mean... I think you know we now have seven children, with little Ginevra born this summer... ummm... and I think my appointment as a 'Department Head' was a bit of a joke – I'm still paid the same as when I was Senior Assistant, after all-"

"Wait," Scrimgeour interrupted. "Why are you not on a full Department Head's salary? Have you not been in to see the Minister about this?"

"I'm sure Minister Bagnold has much more important things to worry about," Weasley mumbled, "and in any case, we're always being told that there isn't any money for pay rises."

"I'm not sure that's right, Arthur. If you've been given the responsibilities of a Department Head then you should be getting paid as one. And all Heads were given a three percent rise just this April, which should have included you, as well."

Weasley looked surprised, and mentioned the sum he was receiving.

Scrimgeour shook his head.

"Someone's been cheating you, Arthur," he said sadly. "The work your team of four does in liaising with the Aurors to get enchanted muggle artefacts off the street is vital to maintaining the Statute of Secrecy and protecting muggles from the ill-intentions of some of our criminal element."

He huffed and then paused slightly as an idea came into his head.

"You work pretty closely with my Aurors, don't you?" he asked.

"Well, yes. And the Obliviators. And the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad."

"How would you feel about folding your team into the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? I can almost guarantee that the Minister and Barty Crouch would sign off on it. With the number of Aurors we've lost to Death Eaters over the last decade we're carrying enough vacancies that we won't be able to fill for years unless Hogwarts starts turning out about twice as many potential recruits."

Weasley frowned.

"I wouldn't be a Department Head any longer though," he noted.

"To be honest, Arthur, you're not being paid as much as my Senior Aurors right now, let alone what a Head should be getting. If you come and work for me, and bring your four assistants too, I'll raise your salary to equal to mine – which is the least you should have been getting so far, even if you had only been an Interim Head."

"It's not the money." Weasley argued, "though I gladly admit that any pay rise would be welcome."

"Well, you can't be worried about the status, Arthur. You must be aware that – outside the Auror office – your Department isn't considered to be important. Look how they've been treating you!

"Anyway, go ahead and think about it over the holidays. See what your wife really thinks about your current job. We can have another chat about it when you get back.

"Meanwhile, you came in here with this rat. Why? I'm sure that nobody would have noticed if you just took it home."

"Something just seemed... I don't know... a bit off," Weasley said, uncomfortably.

"Okay," Scrimgeour said with a nod. "And you couldn't tell what it was for yourself, so you came to me. What does your instinct tell you?"

"Well, it came us as having some form of magical properties. But, we don't have any magical rats, as far as I know. I wanted to get a second opinion before I did something stupid."

"That's fair enough, Arthur. Especially if you had a gut feeling about it. Let me have a look."

Scrimgeour pulled the cage towards him and peered in at the rat. It seemed to be sleeping at the moment, but he too felt something slightly odd about it. He cast some of the routine detection spells that the Auror team used for identifying unknown items.

"Yes, definitely magical, as you say," he said thoughtfully.

Like Arthur, he was pretty sure that there were no species of magical rat in the Wizarding World. Therefore this wasn't a magical rat. A human transfigured into a rat, perhaps?

He cast some more spells.

Oh.

He poked his wand carefully through the cage bars to be sure he hit his target.

"Stupefy!"

If the rat hasn't been asleep before, it was certainly knocked out now.

"Why did you stun him?" Weasley asked.

"Because this isn't a rat at all," Scrimgeour explained. "It's a man. Specifically, its an animagus."

Scrimgeour opened the cage door and carefully pulled the rat out, and walked around his desk to allow for more room, placing the animal on the floor and backing away.

"Animus reverto!" he cast.

The rat began to grow and morph back into the human form that he naturally held. The result was a short young man, perhaps twenty years old, rather plump but looking as though he had recently lost some of the weight he had been carrying as a teenager. His hair was an inconspicuous light brown and he had a pointed nose and small, watery eyes.

In sum, Scrimgeour thought, not a particularly impressive young man.

"Anyone you know?" he asked Weasley.

The red-headed man shook his head.

"Well, we certainly don't have a rat listed on our register of animagi, so if nothing else I can hold him on the charge of being an illegal animagus," Scrimgeour said. "Maybe when we question him we'll find out who he is and whether there's anything else we need to know."

He opened the door and called for an Auror, and a young woman, looking like she was fresh out of the Academy came running at his call, and took the stunned man away to the holding cells.

"Congratulations, Arthur," Scrimgeour said with a wry smile as the Auror departed. "You've apprehended another criminal."

Weasley seemed stuck between surprise, amazement and disgust.

"To think that I was about to take him home and gift him to my son!" he said, shocked.

"Well, it shows that your instincts were right to bring him to me to get a second opinion, Arthur. Just what I need of people who work from me – the understanding of when they can solve a problem by themselves and when they need to bring the problem to a more senior officer."

"Thank you... I think."

"I'm afraid though," Scrimgeour said as he returned to his desk, "that your son won't be getting a pet rat for Christmas this year."

He rummaged in his desk and pulled out a small bag.

"Here," he said, sliding it across the desk to Weasley. "There's a few Galleons here from petty cash. I'll mark it down as expenses incurred in the course of arrested an unregistered animagus. Get your son a proper pet, instead. A cat, perhaps? Magical Menagerie should still be open for another couple of hours. Head there and then go home for your holiday, Arthur."

Arthur blushed again.

"Thank you, Rufus. You're too kind."

"Not at all. Who knows what might have happened had you not brought that rat in. Trust your instincts, Arthur, and come and see me again in the New Year."

===AMCR-AMCR===AMCR-AMCR===

Friday 8th January 1982

Gringotts, London

Arcturus Black was a little bit disconcerted.

Not so much by the summons to Gringotts. He'd expected that as the Goblins proceeded through their disbursement of vault contents from those who had been killed during the recent successes that the Aurors had achieved over those who had served the Dark Lord. He was, after all, expecting to be awarded at least a portion of the Lestrange estate following the death of Bellatrix Lestrange, nee Black.

The surprise was more at the alacrity with which events had proceeded to this point – the disappearance of the self-styled Lord Voldemort hadn't seen his followers go to ground, as he had thought they might, but instead they had become the hunted of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, in a rare pre-emptive set of moves by the Ministry.

That so many of the Death Eaters had been captured or killed, and so quickly, was something he had thought beyond the talents of the Auror department, and even more certainly beyond the mental acuity of their leaders.

Perhaps he had underestimated Rufus Scrimgeour. He had thought the Head Auror more focused on attempts to clear his path to becoming Minister for Magic when the opportunity next arrived. His ascent through the Ministry ranks had indicated a high-flyer, but one whose self-interest was clearly at the forefront. Instead, it appeared that he had taken the Auror force and moulded it into something that functioned much better than had been the case for many years.

There was a fine balance, Arcturus considered, between becoming known for delivering what was needed and becoming indispensable in a particular role, and recent events were starting to push Scrimgeour towards the latter, regardless of what his ambitions might have been.

And now the Goblins were processing estates quickly. This was almost unheard of. Were the two things linked?

Granted it was a slow day, as far as things went in Diagon Alley – the Christmas break was over and Hogwarts students were back at school - but he'd been treated with respect by the teller when he had announced his presence for an appointment with Rockcrusher, and directed to the conference room with something close to politeness.

Perhaps that was it, he thought. But he wasn't completely convinced.

"Mister Black?" the Goblin asked as he entered the room.

"Yes."

"Thank you for coming to Gringotts. I'm Rockcrusher. I've been the manager of the Lestrange account for about thirty years."

"How can I help?" Arcturus asked as the Goblin seated himself the standard spear-length away.

"I suspect we might be of mutual assistance to one another, Mister Black. As you are no doubt aware, you are the closest living relative to Bellatrix Lestrange, formerly Bellatrix Black."

Arcturus nodded.

"With the recent... deaths... amongst those who swore themselves to the Dark Lord, we've had to act quickly to assess and disburse estates before the Ministry could declare that the owners were treasonous and should forfeit their wealth to the common good."

In other words, Arcturus thought, so that Gringotts could skim off a portion in fees before the Ministry declared it all untouchable.

"In the case of the Lestranges, this was somewhat complicated by the rapidity and order of their deaths, and has resulted in their entire fortune being accumulated under the name of the recently deceased Bellatrix."

"Am I to assume that she personally died intestate, then?" Arcturus asked, a gleam coming into his eyes.

"Yes," Rockcrusher replied. "And as such, that estate will naturally revert to the Black family, in the person of yourself as head of that family.

"However," the Goblin continued, "there are blockages in disbursing that estate."

"And how can I help with that?" Arcturus asked. This was going to cost a fair amount of gold, he knew, but for the whole of the Lestrange estate it would be worth it.

"Two things. Firstly, we have heard that the Ministry is likely to get its collective penny-pinching backside in gear very soon and will be looking to impound certain resources. If you want to ensure that Gringotts prioritises processing the Lestrange vault before that happens, we will be looking to assess an Express Services Fee of twenty percent of the value of the coinage in the Vault and ten percent of the value of any items."

Yes, this was where the sting was going to happen.

"Five percent of the coinage value and nothing against the items," Arcturus countered. The Goblin describing the Ministry as 'penny-pinching' was irony of the highest level, he thought.

Rockcrusher grinned.

"Thirteen percent and complete retrieval of any Goblin-made items."

"Nine percent of the coinage and you can keep any Goblin-made items that an independent assessor agrees fit that description."

"Deal," Rockcrusher said with a nod.

"The second issue?" Arcturus asked with foreboding.

Now it was Rockcrusher that had a gleam in his eye.

"The second issue is that our initial assessment of the vault of the deceased has identified that there is an item there that, contrary to both Goblin and your Ministry's laws, contains a soul fragment."

The Black patriarch's eyebrows shot up.

"A Horcrux?" he asked. When Dumbledore had informed him exactly what Sirius and Remus had found in the Black town house he had been amused that the Dark Lord had gone to such extremes and yet had still been dispatched by a fifteen month old child.

Had he dared (and had the locket not already been divested of the Horcrux by the time he knew what it had been) he might have insisted on keeping it and holding it hostage to the highest bidder. That would have put the wind up that arrogant snot Dumbledore's nose.

He even had fantasies of playing them off one against the other, but soon realised that they were nothing but fantasies, and that if the Dark Lord knew where his Horcrux was he would have stopped at nothing to retrieve it. And that harpy Walpurga would no doubt have helped him. It was all well and good living a life of privilege, and promoting political positions that reinforced that, but you actually had to be alive to benefit from it.

"I have no idea what you humans call it. It's a small golden chalice that we believe once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. Since you all seem to venerate those Witches and Wizards from the Medieval Age who founded your school of learning, perhaps that gives it greater value to you?"

Arcturus shook his head. If it was valuable as a relic then Gringotts would just charge more to give it up.

"Nevertheless, we have assessed it's worth in materiel and craftsmanship, and conclude it to be worth in the region of ten thousand Galleons."

Arcturus sucked a breath in. Ten thousand Galleons would wipe out everything that he expected to get from the Lestrange estate plus about three-quarters of his own wealth.

"Yes," Rockcrusher said with a nod. "That's our price for turning it over to you and waiving any further form of prosecution for breaking our laws. Oh, and by-the-by, not mentioning it to your Ministry."

"Alternatives?" he asked shakily.

Rockcrusher sighed.

"Well, it could remain forever in the Lestrange Vault, unclaimed by anyone," he suggested, "but I don't see how that benefits any of us."

"Except the Dark Lord," Arcturus pointed out.

Rockcrusher shrugged.

"We care little for your above-ground civil wars, Mister Black. Neither the recently disincorporated Dark Lord nor your Ministry offers us a chance at the freedom and rights that we really want."

"Is there a deadline?"

"For this? Not particularly. The Ministry will be interested in the coin and properties. They have no use for artefacts."

"Then if you don't mind, I'll come back to you? It's not exactly the simplest thing to rustle up that kind of figure in gold."

"Not at all, Mister Black. Have a good day."

===AMCR-AMCR===AMCR-AMCR===

Saturday 9th January 1982

Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts

"Ten thousand Galleons? He's robbing you blind, Arcturus!" Dumbledore said as they sat down to a cup of tea, pleasantries dispensed with and initial explanations done. "I've seen Hufflepuff's chalice in memories, and even as a Founder's relic it wouldn't be worth more than a thousand."

"I'm well aware of that, Albus. I thought you were keen to be rid of this particular threat though? I should be asking you to try and raise the money given how important it seems to be to you," Arcturus said heatedly. "I thought you would at least be pleased that I've been able to locate something you couldn't have gotten your hands on in a million years."

"Oh, I am, indeed, but I thought that you too might see that it was something worthy of such a sacrifice."

"Don't talk to me about sacrifices, Albus. It seems to me that you're happy enough to let others make sacrifices, but rather less forthcoming when it comes to your own. I've half a mind to tell the Goblins that they can keep it, if this is going to be your attitude."

Dumbledore winced, but took a moment to consider that possibility.

"That might not be the worst course of action," he said thoughtfully. "It would at least be subject to all the protections that Gringotts provide. And they do, after all know what it contains."

"Really? Even knowing that it's part of the Dark Lord's soul? That it might be the very last piece that you need to ensure that he doesn't return? You think they would let it sit there? And what happens when the Dark Lord or his shade comes calling for it? Do you think they would stand in his way?"

Arcturus had little hope that Gringotts would do much to prevent Voldemort from regaining his trophy. There was no way he'd pay ten thousand galleons either, but much more likely he'd blast his way straight through their defences to get it, not caring whether that provoked another Goblin war.

"And how long would you let it just sit there? Doesn't that just store up potential trouble for future generations? Will you let them bear that risk, given your advanced stage in life? Who would you task with seeing to it once you were gone?"

"I thought you were in favour of his politics?"

"In outline general, perhaps," Arcturus agreed. "Certainly not in the detail or in the method and tactics. Nor at the cost of the lives of magic users for generations to come, even be it that they're Muggle-born. And not to serve at his whim. I've seen too many of my family taken in by him and turned to murder and mayhem in his name instead of politics and philanthropy. The Black family might be infamous, but we've always supported law and order over anarchy."

"Sorry, Arcturus."

The Black patriarch waved away Dumbledore's apology.

"No offence taken. Nothing you said was untrue. I'm not sure what options we might have though, Albus."

"It sounds like a bluff to me. I think you could offer a much lesser amount and they'll accept."

"I wasn't given to believe that they intended to negotiate."

"Goblins are always prepared to negotiate. You know that. It's just a question of whether there is something we might have to offer them that they would prize over and above the price they are asking.

"Even so, I can't see Gringotts turning down a reduced offer. If they've valued the item at ten thousand Galleons, perhaps you could offer them the item itself to keep, once we've dealt with the Horcrux, rather than the value in specie?"

"How do you destroy the Horcrux without damaging the chalice, though?" Arcturus asked.

"Hmm. Yes, well that's still a mystery."

"I don't think the Goblins will be happy with that promise if we've got to bathe the thing in Fiendfyre – there won't be much of the chalice left, and the gold will be more than melted. There was hardly anything left of that locket that Sirius took."

"What if we took it through the Ministry?" Dumbledore asked. "I would have thought that I could have a word in the right place and they would be prepared to issue Gringotts with a seizure order."

"That still has a cost, though. A seizure order would result in a charge to the Ministry on the basis of the independent value of the item. I can't see that being feasible."

"It would be much less than ten thousand Galleons, though."

"Come off it, Albus. The Ministry has difficulty getting appropriations of the ground when we're talking hundreds of Galleons. Thousands is going to generate a demand for a full inquiry, at which point we'd have to acknowledge the Horcrux to the whole Wizengamot to get approval."

"The shape of the Wizengamot is in the middle of a rather sizeable shift at the moment, you know."

"Not sizeable enough. People on both sides will be up in arms about a funding request of that size without a full explanation."

"Perhaps you are right," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "We must think of other options."