The Heiress

I was helped to a room and made to lie down so I could be examined. In the middle of it, they gave me a goblet of something cold, and the next thing I knew I was waking up alone and my leg was wrapped from ankle to thigh. I wasn't in any pain, but I felt a little like a half-squashed bug - able to move from the waist up but useless lower down. I thought about trying to sit up and was still thinking about it when a Mediwitch walked in.

"Oh, lovely, you're awake! Would you like something to eat, Mr. Weasley?"

"No, thanks." I eyed the cup in her hand and remembered taking a drink out of a similar cup when they'd brought me to the room. "You know, if you want to make a bloke feel like he's just spent the last hour arse-up in a pub, there's a Muggle drink I'd recommend that'll do the job but tastes better."

"Yes, our anaesthetic potion is a tad strong." She smiled a little. "But this is just water with a bit of pain potion mixed in. Is there anything I can get for you?"

I had a feeling that she wasn't being totally truthful about what was in that cup, but I didn't spend much time thinking about it. My head felt as if cotton wool was blotting out my brain, but enough of it shifted so that I could think clearly for a split second.

"Hermione!"

She looked startled. "I'm sorry?"

"Herm-, the woman I came here with. Where is she? What's happened to her?"

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't know you were speaking about Ms. Granger. I saw her name and pronounced it quite a different way. Is it really the second syllable that's stressed and not the last? I once went to school with a girl with that very name, and I'm quite sure it was pronounced Her - my - oh - KNEE, not Her - MY - oh - knee. However, I didn't know the girl very well ..."

The bloody woman kept talking, and that's when I knew the truth. She was gone. Hermione was gone. I remembered the war, sitting up in St. Mungo's waiting for word on friends. When the staff started going on about nonsense, it was a sure sign that they were having trouble spitting out the bad news. Without warning, the room started swimming in front of my eyes. I fancied I could hear Hermione's shrieks of pain in my ear, but I was too worn out even to shiver.

"... so you see, I was a bit confused!" she chirped. "It's very well that you let me know, before I made a fool of myself in front of Ms. Granger mispronouncing her name."

I sat bolt upright - or tried to. My shoulders barely cleared the mattress. "What? You mean she's not dead?"

"Dead? Oh, Merlin, no!" She fluttered her arms about. "Oh, dear me, Ms. Granger is fine! The Healers were able to administer an antidote in time and her vital signs have stabilised."

I tried sitting up again, and this time she helped me. "She's okay? You're sure? You're not just saying it -"

"Oh, Mr. Weasley, of course I'm not! I'm so very sorry I gave you cause for alarm. I do tend to natter on." She flashed a skittish smile. "I believe she'll have to stay here a few days to allow her new skin to settle in. She was burned quite badly on her hip and thigh. I'll send Healer Weatherbea in to tell you all about it just as soon as he finishes speaking with the Aurors. They would like to talk to you, too."

"There're Aurors here?"

"No less than Harry Potter himself," she said, sounding impressed. "Healer Weatherbea is giving them particulars of Ms. Granger's ailment. It was a very nasty curse, apparently."

The relief I felt knowing that Harry was around went away in a hurry. "She was hexed? How?"

"The gold, of course." She lowered her voice. "That Galleon that fell out of your pocket was chock full of Dark Magic. More of them were found in Ms. Granger's coat. That's what caused her burns, the poor dear. Her internal injuries, however, are a bit more complicated to explain, but it was all part of the same hex! Minister Scrimgeour himself has gone to Gringotts to launch a full investigation."

I thought about that Galleon and how it had jumped and sputtered, but I couldn't wrap my head around how it all could have happened in the first place. I'd seen my fair share of people hurt by hexes, but it didn't take minutes - or even seconds - with many of them. Delaying charms on dark spells weren't out of the question, but the longer a curse took to take effect, the better chance it had of being detected, especially in a place like Gringotts where everything was scanned to the back and beyond. I let that thought nip about in my head while the Mediwitch lifted the blankets and checked on my leg.

"You'll be free to leave in a few hours, and I'll be back to change your bandages and show you how to do it yourself." The woman leaned her head against her shoulder and looked at me. "Harry Potter said that you were with Ms. Granger, and the Healers are amazed that you weren't affected as she was. You're a very lucky man, it seems."

"That's our Ron. If he weren't so bleeding heavy, I'd wear him on a chain around my neck."

Harry's head was in the doorway. By the way he was smiling, I knew that Hermione really was all right. Something eased in my chest and I finally felt able to breathe properly.

"Up for a bit of a talk, mate?"

I nodded, and he came in followed by a reedy man with fringe flopping into his eyes. I spotted him for a wanker right off, and I think Harry could tell because he muttered something to the bloke and he hung back a bit, playing with his quill. Harry had a soft conversation with the Mediwitch, then smiled her out of the room. As soon as she was gone, he put a locking charm on the door.

"This is Brock Urdsmore, by the way." Harry nodded at the floppy-haired bloke. "Just out of training."

I grinned. That was Harry-speak for: He's young and he's new and he really doesn't know what end is up right now so don't chew him a new arsehole unless he really gets out of pocket.

Harry pulled a chair up to the side of the bed. "The Healer seemed surprised how little you were hurt, considering how bad a state Hermione was in."

"Have you seen her?"

"Not yet. They want her to get some rest before they let people tramp about." Harry's eyes darted to Urdsmore. "But since you were there, and you're up and about - sort of - we'd hoped we could ask a few questions."

"Out with them, then."

The other bloke cleared his throat. "Yes. Ron. Oh, excuse me. Mr Weasley -"

"Ron'll do."

"Oh. Yes. Well then. Thank you. Ron it is, then."

The bloke seemed afraid of full sentences for some reason, but Harry smiled at him or maybe kicked him in a way that I couldn't see, because his shoulders loosened and he looked more at ease.

Urdsmore flipped through his notes. "We understand the two goblins who accompanied you and Ms. Granger disappeared shortly after the, uh, incident."

"Grubkinder didn't disappear, unless you mean permanently. He exploded right in front of us."

Harry gave a little jump. "Exploded? You mean like -"

"Poof!" I threw my hands up. Both Harry and the other bloke looked visibly disturbed. "Didn't you find his ... crikey ... there was blood and muck all over the cart Hermione and I were in. I never saw anyone or anything turn the colour he did right before he ... you know."

"There's a team at the bank with the Minister. They're combing over the evidence," said Harry. "Did, uh, both of them explode, then?"

"No, the other one was all right from what I could tell. He guided the cart and got us out of there. He isn't at the bank?"

"No, he's run off. In the confusion, no one thought to detain him," said Urdsmore. "He's our prime suspect for now."

"Prime suspect for what, exactly?"

"Hexing Ms. Granger, though we're not quite sure how he managed to do it." He made a few notes on his parchment. "Could you tell us what exactly happened down there?"

I came out with all of it, not even leaving out the row but not going into much detail about that. They both were quiet after I'd gone through it all, Harry lost in thought and Urdsmore rifling through his parchment.

"You said Ms. Granger complained of being warm?"

"Yeah. And I was the opposite. The caverns are always cool and this is the dead of winter. I thought it was strange, but before I could think much about it, we were off, and ..." I coughed a little. Damned stupid time to get a dry mouth.

"And this ..." another long look at the parchement "Grubkinder appeared to be ill, I think you said. Sweating and whatnot?"

I nodded. "You really think that other goblin might've hexed Hermione somehow through her Galleons?"

"Maybe, but now his disappearing makes a little more sense. I probably would've run away, too, if someone blew up right in front of ... um, yeah, moving on then." Harry cleared his throat. "The Galleons are cursed, that's pretty clear. Hermione was all right before she went into that vault and not all right afterwards, and the only others who might've had access to the coins are the goblins who worked there. The only part of this that doesn't make sense is you, mate. You didn't handle any of the gold yourself, did you?"

"No, but I was in the vault along with Hermione. Everything seemed all right. As all right as anything can be when a room full of gold's involved, anyway."

"Right, but we think that this curse was specifically set to be activated by touch," Harry said. "Hermione had a bunch of Galleons in her pocket. That might explain why she was hexed and you weren't."

"But a Galleon did touch me," I said, pointing to my bandaged leg.

Harry and Urdsmore glanced at my leg and then at each other. They looked a bit deflated.

"Good point." Harry rubbed his chin. "Truthfully mate, I don't know what to think, and that's the last thing the Minister's going to want to hear."

"He's really at Gringotts now? A bit beneath him, innit?" I couldn't keep the bitterness out of my voice, but to be fair, I didn't really try.

"This is serious, Ron. If it gets out that there's tainted gold at Gringotts, it'll be a disaster." Harry stood up, and Urdsmore did the same. "He'd be a git not to want to handle this himself. He really does care about everyone's safety."

"You're barking if you think Scrimgeour'll be able to do anything more than make a mess of it."

"I have full confidence in the Minister's abilities," said Harry in the same tone he used whenever he was having a go at someone. "We've got to go and report back at Headquarters, but I'll be back down with Ginny later. Maybe Hermione'll be ready for visitors then. Oh, and speaking of, a bloke named Warren Hartfield is outside and has asked to see you. He says he works with you at Gringotts? I could tell him that you're resting if you're not up for more talking."

"It's all right. It's probably better that he hears the news about Grubkinder from me. They were ... uh ... close."

Harry nodded, and as he and Urdsmore walked out, Warren came in. His face looked like it was about to collapse on itself and his eyes were red-rimmed and glassy.

"I won't stay long; I know you're just now coming around."

"It's okay, mate. Really." I swallowed hard. "Sit down ... there's, uh, there's something I need to tell you -"

Warren plunked into a chair with a sigh. "If it's about Grubkinder, it's all right. I know that he's dead."

"You do? How?" I stared. "Not even the Aurors knew that. They thought he ran off with that other goblin that was down there."

"As soon as I heard what happened, I knew Grubby had to have died," said Warren. "The goblins that have care of the high-security vaults are tied to them by magic. If a goblin allows hexed or cursed items inside and its discovered, it means death for him. Immediately."

I couldn't get my breath for a minute. I knew that Gringotts was a cutthroat business, but even that seemed extreme.

"Just like that? What if Grubkinder didn't know about it?"

"It doesn't matter. They're supposed to know everything. It's their responsibility, and because of the circumstances, all of them take it pretty damned seriously." Warren said, rubbing his eyes. "What I can't understand is how Grubby didn't know. He was a humourless sot and Merlin knows he could've used a shag or two in his life, but he knew what he was about when it came to his job. He's the last one I'd ever think would have a compromised vault."

I thought about how twitchy Grubkinder had looked when we approached the vault, and my blood ran cold. He might've known then that something was wrong, but he hadn't said anything, hadn't given any sort of a warning. I supposed that maybe since he knew that he wasn't going to get out of it alive, he'd not cared about anyone else. But then, it didn't seem likely that he would have bothered to try to make the trip back.

"What about the other one? The one who got out us out of the caves." I shuddered at the memory. "Is he going to ..."

"No. It wasn't his vault. He shouldn't have been down there in the first place, which is why he might've run off. Not sure what Grubby was about, bringing him," said Warren. "Though I suppose it's lucky he did, or you and Ms. Granger might still be down in the maze."

Warren shook his head sadly. "Anyway, Minister Scrimgeour's come, and it's a bloody madhouse down there. The way his blokes are poking and prodding everyone is making a go with a Probity Probe seem like a walk in Trafalgar Square. The goblins are getting nervous, and the Ministry agreed to let the bank bring in its own set of Cursebreakers to help the investigation. Since that's your department, I'd wondered if you had a shortlist of ones who're good and can come down in a hurry. I understand if you're not up to it ..."

I thought of the stack of enquiry letters on my desk that I'd been putting off reading, and I cursed myself for being such a lazy git. But then I got another idea.

"Actually, I know one, and he'd know who else to bring in. We might try there first."

"Brilliant. What's the name?"

"William Weasley."

"Your brother?" Warren looked gobsmacked. "The one who used to work at Gringotts? But I thought he was ... uh ..."

I could tell that Warren was searching for just the right way to say something that couldn't be prettied up any way you tried.

"Um ... retired," he said, turning red.

Retired? That ... wasn't too bad, actually. I filed it away for future use.

"He doesn't get out much, but he was the best Cursebreaker that Gringotts ever had," I said. "I want him in on this. I don't know if we can afford to trust just anyone. Firecall him - he's in Marseilles - and tell him to get the first Portkey over here."

Warren still looked a bit uncertain, but he told me he'd take care of it. "By the way," he said as he rose to go, "the goblins think it might be nice to send Ms. Granger some, uh, flowers or something, but they're not quite sure what she'd like. I don't suppose you'd remember anything that might help?"

He was going for an innocent expression and failing rather spectacularly at it. I thought it was best that I couldn't move right well at the moment, because I was fairly certain that I would have kicked his arse out of the room - with both legs, if I could.

A few seconds went by with Warren trying not to look to obvious and me trying not to feel too much like, well, kicking his arse.

"Those fluffy flowers," I finally gritted out. "Chrysanthemums, I think they're called. Deep-red or white."

"Got it. Seems simple enough." Warren knew better than to smile. "I'm glad you're okay, Ron. I'll be in touch as soon as I hear from your brother."

He whipped out of sight after that, and I was alone again. For a few minutes, I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. The best that I could come up with was that Hermione and I were lucky to be alive and that I would never, ever get that last image of Grubkinder out of my mind for as long as I lived. As for the rest, I had no ruddy idea. And the idea of Scrimgeour there to "restore order" didn't make me feel any better, and it certainly didn't make me feel any safer.

My leg began to throb a little and against my better judgment, I went for the drink the Mediwitch had brought me and tossed it back. I went out like a broken wand not long afterward.