Harry Potter and the Antiquity Link

semprini

Story Summary:
The morning after his defeat of Voldemort, Harry awakens feeling disturbed and uneasy, but not knowing why. Wanting nothing more than to stay at Grimmauld Place and be left alone, he finds himself unable to get what he needs. Angry goblins, unleashed dementors, well-meaning friends, and a debt to Narcissa Malfoy demand a reluctant Harry's time and attention. Resisting praise, expectations, and offers of employment, he is finally drawn into a trial that rivals the most difficult ones he has ever faced.

Chapter 10 - The Crucible

Chapter Summary:
Captured by goblins, Harry is interrogated—under goblin truth serum, which causes enormous pain when answers aren’t forthcoming—by an old goblin who seems as interested in persuading Harry of his own guilt as he is in getting information.
Posted:
05/20/2008
Hits:
2,853


Chapter 10

The Crucible

Thirty minutes later, Kingsley was at the Burrow, in the living room with Hermione, Fleur, Dudley, and every Weasley except Charlie and Ginny. "Well?" asked Ron impatiently, a sentiment obviously shared by all present.

"There's no proof yet, but it had to be the goblins," said Kingsley, grim with what, his personal affection for Harry aside, was the most serious crisis of his young Ministership. "The kid is innocent, or if he's not, he's an incredible actor. The guy pretending to be his father, must have been Polyjuiced, Disapparated as soon as Harry was gone; he evidently gave the kid the card--a fake Chocolate Frog card of Harry--and told him to get Harry's autograph. He must've activated the Portkey to go when the next person touched it."

"And the breaching of the dementor shield," asked Arthur, "was done just as a ruse, to get Harry?"

"We can't know. The best guess is that it was hoped that it would have the effect of getting Harry out there. We'll be investigating exactly who knew Harry would be in the Ministry, just in case; it makes sense to assume that the timing was deliberate. Also, Harry, being distracted by the incident, would have been expected to be less on his guard for something like that. Very clever, to have a kid do it. I myself might have taken the card."

"How was the shield breached?" asked Bill.

"We'll be investigating that as well," said Kingsley. He wanted to keep as private as possible one of the most disturbing facts regarding the incident: at least one Auror previously thought to be loyal was not, as the Diagon Alley protection contained a magical 'lock' known only to certain Aurors. "If we need to use Veritaserum, we will. Not finding out isn't an option."

"And now for the obvious question," said Ron, "when are we going to get him back? If there's an assault, just tell me, I'll be there." Hermione put a hand on Ron's shoulder, showing her support and agreement.

Kingsley sighed. "I agree with the sentiment, but it's far from simple. You just can't get into Gringotts; that's the whole point of the place. The first thing I did was give the order for the siege to begin. What's worse is that we can't prove that's where he is, though it's by far the best bet. We have no choice but to operate under the assumption that he's in Gringotts. We will get in, there's no question of that. But it's not going to be fast."

"What will they do to him?" asked a worried Hermione.

"I was going to ask Bill the same question, as he's more of a goblin expert than I am," said Kingsley. "Bill?"

"I'm not sure," said Bill gravely. "If their recent behavior is any indication, they won't hold back on whatever it is they're thinking of doing. They've burned their bridges with us, and they must know that. They might kill him, they might torture him." Hermione visibly winced. "And before I forget... we need to, right away, go to Grimmauld place to continue this conversation. I'll explain when we get there."

One by one they went through the fireplace, until all were in Harry's home. Kingsley explained what had happened to an outraged Kreacher. "Kreacher," asked Ron, "can you go to him?"

"Kreacher is very sorry, Ron Weasley, but no. Kreacher cannot know where Master Harry is. Kreacher can come only if Master Harry calls. Master Harry, please call!"

"If Harry calls him, can Kreacher give him a Portkey?" asked Ron.

Kingsley shook his head. "They'll be expecting it, Ron. They know what house-elves can do. If Harry calls Kreacher, Kreacher will be dead in five seconds, probably less. They'll have something set up."

"Master Harry, please call!" shouted Kreacher plaintively, looking up.

"Kreacher, he's probably unconscious," said Kingsley.

"Kreacher, didn't you hear what he said?" pleaded Hermione. "If you go, you'll die! Harry wouldn't want that, so you shouldn't go!"

Kreacher looked at her disdainfully. "Harry Potter's... close friend of disadvantaged birth does not understand. To die to help a master, especially an honored master, is the best-wished way for a house-elf to die. Kreacher is old, Kreacher is ready to go. Kreacher could not hope for a better death."

Hermione gave Ron a look that suggested that he should say or do something; he looked back at her with a 'what do you expect me to say?' expression. Frustrated, she looked away.

Bill spoke again. "I had us come here because assuming they interrogate Harry, which they almost certainly will, they're likely to ask him where the money is, and how to get at it. It might not do them much good, because only the owner can open the wall, but they might try anyway. They might be able to get the house's location from him, and break the Fidelius Charm."

"Harry Potter will not tell filthy goblins the home's location," said Kreacher firmly.

"They could give him Veritaserum, Kreacher. He may not have a choice. Will you come to the Burrow and let us know if anyone who's not authorized gets into the home?" Kreacher nodded vigorously.

"I assume you know, Bill," said Kingsley, "that you and Fleur are the next likely targets." Bill nodded. "The goblins are almost certainly not doing this themselves, but by hiring mercenaries, probably some of the people the Aurors are looking for now. Also, the people working at the bank with you need to be careful." Bill used his wand to open the vault in the wall; it was unchanged, all of the money still there.

"And speaking of the bank, that's the next question," continued Kingsley. "They're likely to demand that the bank be closed, and/or any variation on that. They could demand the money itself; they could demand that I take an Unbreakable Vow not to allow any bank other than Gringotts--you get the idea--and say they'll kill Harry if we don't do it. We need to decide how we'll answer any such demand."

"Well, it would depend on what the demand is," suggested Hermione.

Kingsley shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. You agree to one demand, they inch it up, and so forth. You have to agree to everything, or nothing. Believe me, I know."

"Then you have to agree," said Molly. "We can't let him die. Even three million Galleons isn't worth his life."

Ron looked as though he hated to say it, but said, "Harry wouldn't want us to agree to any of their demands."

There was a short silence. "Are you sure?" asked Fleur.

Ron exchanged a look with Hermione; she looked down, despondent. "Yes, we're sure," she said. "We know him better than anyone. It wouldn't matter what the demand was, he wouldn't want us to, on principle." She looked up at Fleur. "We know how stubborn he can be."

"Also," added Ron, "he said recently that after what happened in the forest, he's not afraid of dying, that he's sure there's something there. And I believe he was serious about that."

"So we should just let him die?" demanded Molly.

"You think I'm happy about it?" Ron loudly shot back at his mother. "We spent most of the last year trying to keep him alive! I'm not saying what I want, I'm saying what he would want!"

Kingsley looked everyone over. "I wanted to get your opinion first, especially Ron and Hermione, but there are security considerations as well. Giving in to this sort of thing invites more of it.

"Now, we will negotiate, but quietly. Publicly, it'll be, 'you give us back Harry, and we won't destroy Gringotts,' like that, but if they choose to do it quietly, we'll talk to them. If there's a deal in which we get him back in a way that we can live with, we'll do it. I'm not giving up on him, by any stretch. But we can't be giving in to unilateral demands."

"What's the endgame for the goblins?" asked Arthur, looking at Bill.

Bill shrugged. "They've been acting so strangely lately, it's almost hard to say. None of this makes rational sense, so it could be anything. It's like they've all gone crazy."

Kingsley spoke again. "We also need someone to be here twenty-four hours a day. Not to defend the house--we'll set up special defenses that will keep anyone but authorized people out--but to keep an eye on Kreacher. If Harry calls him--"

"Will Harry call him?" asked Arthur. "Will it occur to Harry that they would anticipate it, and that they'd prepare for it?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look. "I don't think so," said Ron.

"We can't be sure, but yes, I'd doubt it," agreed Hermione. She looked at Kreacher, who suddenly seemed much happier.

"Ron, Hermione, this is very serious," said Kingsley. "How likely is Harry to call Kreacher?"

"I'd say, fairly likely," replied Ron. "He definitely knows that Kreacher can do it. As soon as it occurs to him, I think he'll do it, if he's alone."

"He might do it within a day, maybe tonight," added Hermione. "It's hard to know, but that's my best guess."

Kingsley nodded. "Okay, then." He crouched to one knee, to come closer to looking Kreacher in the eye. "Kreacher, there's something we can do that could mean that if Harry calls you, and you die, your death would have a good purpose."

Kreacher nodded eagerly. "Kreacher wants to know what this is."

"There's a liquid we can give you," said Kingsley. "You'd drink a certain amount of it every day. It'll put something in your body that we can detect by magical sensors, the same way the Ministry detects magic being done all over the country. If you go to Harry, we'll know where he is, even if it's surrounded by shields, and the substance could help us get to him. Nothing is certain, but it increases the chances from zero to something reasonable."

"Kreacher will do it! Drink now!"

"Wait, there's more," said Kingsley gravely. "This substance is poisonous. After about three days, there'd be enough in your system that your death would be inevitable. After seven to ten days, you'd die."

"Kingsley!" gasped a shocked Hermione. "He's a living being!"

"Kreacher will do it! Drink now!"

"He has a choice, Hermione," pointed out Kingsley. "He's not our servant."

"But he's Harry's! He feels he has to do this, for Harry!"

Ron took Hermione's hand and looked at her; she had never seen him look more serious. "Hermione. I would do it. Would you?"

Trying to control her emotions, she closed her eyes for a few seconds. "Yes, I would," she admitted. "But would his reason be the same as ours?"

"Close enough, I think," said Ron.

"Master Harry is great master, worthy successor to Master Regulus," pronounced Kreacher. "Kreacher is proud to die for Master Harry."

"Yeah," said Ron. "Close enough."

"All right, we can't waste any time," said Kingsley. "I'm going back to the Ministry, get that liquid prepared, since for all we know he could call Kreacher at any time, and I'll have Hestia start preparing the magical safeguards for the house." He Disapparated.

Bill looked around. "Okay. Like Kingsley said, someone has to be around here all the time, and most of us have jobs, or are busy in some way. Dudley, you're the only one here who doesn't fit that description. Would you be willing to spend the day here when no one else is?"

Dudley nodded somberly. "Sure."

"Okay, we'll work out a schedule. Mum or Fleur might come by sometimes to keep you company, or just be around in general. Ron and Hermione, it'll probably be better if you can spend most of your non-working time here, including sleeping here. No offense to Dudley, but the more magically trained people we have here, the better." They nodded their acknowledgement.

The meeting was over, for the time being. Ron and Hermione walked over to the corner of the room which contained Harry's writing desk and Dumbledore's portrait. "Do you think we'll get him back?" she asked quietly.

Ron nodded. "He's Harry Potter. He's survived a lot. He'll survive this."

She leaned into him; he put his arms around her. "I really hope you're right."

"I am," he responded. I hope, he added to himself.

* * * * *

Harry tugged at the ropes that bound him before he fully regained consciousness; the realization that he couldn't move his arms propelled him to wakefulness in an instant. His next realization was that his head really hurt.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, but when he looked up, no one was there. Had someone Disapparated, or taken a Portkey?

Looking around, he realized that he was in a Gringotts vault; he knew what they looked like, and he recognized the large, metal door. He just wasn't used to seeing it from this angle.

He was sitting on the floor, his arms at his sides, bound by thick rope whose gray color made it look more like steel; the rope was fastened securely to a peg in the floor on either side. His legs, pointing forward, were held at the ankles in the same way. Anger flooded him as he realized what had happened, and he cursed himself for not having been more careful. Was that even a real boy, he wondered, or a goblin using their equivalent of Polyjuice Potion?

So, what happens now? Do they put me on trial, hold me for ransom, kill me, what? Everybody wants me for something, just it this case, it's something bad. Well, to hell with them. I'm not cooperating.

The idea that they would kill him for not cooperating flashed through his mind, and he immediately realized that he didn't care. If the choice was his, he'd go on living, but if that was the way it happened, then so be it. He'd be with his parents, Sirius, and Remus, and that wasn't so bad. The knowledge gave him strength and determination; whatever happened would be on his terms, even if he was a prisoner.

He found himself thinking about Molly, and his resistance to the 'help' she tried to give him. He wondered if it was the same thing, that he felt he had to be the one to decide what he would and wouldn't do.

His musings were halted by the sudden appearance of a goblin, though there was no Apparition sound accompanying it. He was perhaps three and a half feet tall, about average for a goblin. He was clearly very old; he face contained so many wrinkles that it reminded Harry of a prune. He had the usual pointed ears and long, sharp nose of a goblin, though both were longer than usual. He wore an ornate gold robe with intricate designs made largely with gemstones. He regarded Harry silently.

Harry decided to be the first to speak. "Let me out of these," he said, looking at the bonds, careful not to make it sound like a plea.

The goblin stared impassively. "Why should I?"

Harry would make a concession, but on his terms. "If you let me out of these, I promise not to try to escape, or to attack you or anyone in this room."

Now the goblin's eyebrows rose slightly, his face resuming its normal appearance almost instantly. Harry got the impression that this goblin wanted to betray no expression, and had reacted in spite of himself. "You already cannot escape, or attack anyone. I see no reason to agree to your request."

Harry stared at the goblin. "If you release me, I'll be... less uncooperative than I will be if you don't."

Again, the goblin gave no reaction. "What is your name?"

Harry decided not to answer, and immediately felt a sharp pain in his foot, as though a muscle had cramped. The feeling spread, working up his shin to his calf, and intensified; he involuntarily yanked his leg against the rope as his body told him that it wanted to stand in an effort to relieve the pain. He gasped in pain as the sensation reached his thigh, and started to work down his other leg.

"Answer the question. What is your name?"

Through the pain, Harry suddenly understood that the pain would stop if he answered the question, and he became intensely determined not to, no matter how painful it got. Answering on their terms is unacceptable, he thought, and I won't do it. Memories of what he had suffered in Umbridge's detentions flashed through his mind.

Even so, he felt the words almost slipping out of him. "H--" He shut his mouth tightly, and then screamed out in pain as his stomach seemed to tie in a tight knot. He felt a burning sensation in his foot, and as he gasped in pain again from the cramping, the burning started to spread as well. He realized that the burning pain would follow the same pattern; he loudly moaned as the pain continued to escalate.

"Is your name a state secret?" asked the goblin, who seemed amused, though his expression was unchanged, his tone even.

Harry now screamed loudly as powerful cramping and burning consumed almost all of his body, reaching his head. He yanked at the ropes, and again felt the impulse to answer the question, but screamed in pain instead, and continued to scream. He remembered how it had felt under the Cruciatus Curse; this pain was starting to approach that. Part of him told himself to answer the question, but part still refused, and he was using all of his breath to scream, so it would have been difficult anyway.

He had a sudden inspiration: stop breathing, he told himself. He quickly discovered that it was easier thought than done; even though he wanted not to breathe, his body did so anyway. Pain propelling him, he tried harder; at the end of a scream he refused to breathe as his body insisted he do so. He failed this time as well, but had been able to go longer than the last time. He wondered if he would he die, or just pass out; part of him hoped he would die, as the pain was so bad. He tried again, trying even harder, willing himself into the abyss that he had visited once before.

* * * * *

The next thing he knew, he was in the same position as he had been before, but in considerable discomfort. His wrists were raw from struggling against the rope, and his muscles were very sore. Well, at least it worked, he thought with satisfaction. But they can just do it again, and again, until I finally decide to talk. Who knows, maybe I'll get lucky and die. Now, there's a morbid thought. But I didn't give in to Umbridge, and I'm not giving in to this. I didn't go running to McGonagall; I dealt with her on my own terms, and I'll do it here.

The same goblin suddenly appeared, and Harry felt a flash of fear at the prospect of the pain he knew was coming, but he shut down the fear with steely determination. Ron and Hermione always complained that I was stubborn, he thought wryly.

"What is your name?" asked the goblin.

Silent, Harry felt the pain begin the same way it had before. Fiercely turning his mind to his aim, Harry tolerated the pain until, after several minutes, he again passed out.

It happened exactly the same way a third time, then a fourth time. The fifth time, instead of asking Harry his name, the goblin asked, "How long will you continue to do this?" Harry again refused to answer, and again endured the pain until he was finally able, through his screams, to pass out. Each time, it felt as though he would die just before he did; the fifth time, his last thought was that he would probably be unable to do it if he were not genuinely willing to die.

The same thought came to him as he woke up the next time. Now greatly in pain even without whatever was causing the cramping and burning, he nevertheless managed a chuckle at the thought that he could now say to Draco that the walk into the forest had done him some good. The first time you choose to die is the hardest.

He reflexively raised his arm to work out the stiffness, and suddenly realized that his bonds were gone. He grinned. I won, at least for now. He stretched his muscles, rubbing the sorest ones.

The goblin appeared as suddenly as he had every time, and spoke. "Our doctor tells me that you may die if this continues," he said, betraying no emotion. "I do not wish you dead at this time, so I have agreed to your request."

I'm not sure I can say the same about you, Harry thought angrily, getting to his feet slowly and gingerly. "I'm sorry to take away your entertainment," he said contemptuously. "I didn't know that goblins were sadists."

This got a reaction: anger, quickly controlled. "It is the ultimate irony that a wizard would call a goblin a sadist."

Harry shrugged. "If the shoe fits, wear it."

The goblin turned to one side, and slowly walked, stopped, then walked the other way, pacing very slowly. "For centuries, wizards have been the sadists. Goblins have been tortured for amusement, or because they were different. I derived no enjoyment from your pain per se, as a sadist would, though I was not saddened either. It was simply a matter of asserting control. But you, very surprisingly, seem to be... uncontrollable. Most humans speak at the first sign of pain. Why do you not?"

Harry was disinclined to share his deepest thoughts and motivations with this goblin. "I'm not going to answer--" He cut himself off as the familiar pain hit his foot again; he fell to the ground, holding it.

"I withdraw the question," said the goblin, and the pain stopped.

Harry hadn't expected that to happen. "Did you give me Veritaserum? Or something like it?"

"Something like it," agreed the goblin. "It is the version we use. We can stand more pain than you, or at least, most of you," he clarified, in a reluctant concession to Harry's endurance. "For us, the pain is a necessary motivator."

Harry wondered why they hadn't just given him the Veritaserum meant for humans, but he suddenly realized that the purpose hadn't been to acquire information, but that it had been control, domination.

"You will be incapable of lying," the goblin continued. "So, I would like to ask why you decided to create a bank."

Puzzled, Harry asked, "Are you asking me why I did that?"

"No," the goblin replied. "I am saying that I would like to ask it." He looked at Harry as if there was something Harry should have understood, but hadn't.

Ah, thought Harry, an indirect way of asking. Like Draco's 'will you leave if I ask you' thing. He decided he was willing to answer. "You were holding wizards hostage by closing Gringotts. I hoped that if there was a competitor, you would act like a usual business should act."

"We were holding the gold hostage, not the wizards."

"Same thing," responded Harry. "We need money to live. If you hadn't done that, I probably wouldn't have started the bank."

"I would like to ask how you acquired the gold for the bank."

Harry shook his head. "If you ask, I won't answer. Legally, is all I'll say. Why does it matter?"

The goblin paused for a minute. It occurred to Harry to ask the goblin's name, but decided it was irrelevant. I am not, he thought, going to start treating him or any of them like I would normal people, as if they have some right to hold me here.

"We make it our business to know where the money is in wizarding society," the goblin explained. "We did not know about this money. So, we are... curious, and wonder if it was some kind of reserve fund whose purpose was to undermine us should there be a desire to do so."

"Nope," said Harry. "It's old money, very old. The only reason you didn't know about it was that the people who owned it didn't want to put their money in Gringotts."

"Ah, the Blacks," said the goblin. Harry was annoyed with himself for giving enough information that the goblin was able to figure it out. "Yes, they kept far too little gold in their vaults to match their power and influence. We assumed their power was more political than monetary.

"I would like to ask why you committed crimes against goblin society." The goblin never seemed to change his expression, which Harry found disconcerting.

"I don't think it's right to say that I 'committed crimes against goblin society,' Harry responded. "I did what I had to do, and a few of those things were illegal. I would have done them legally if there was any choice."

"Of course, there was a choice," responded the goblin, becoming irritated but trying to control it. "You could have not done those things."

"If I hadn't done those things, Voldemort would still be in power."

"Yes. That was the other choice."

Harry's eyes narrowed in puzzlement. The goblin seemed to be intelligent and perceptive, though not very advanced ethically. How could he be so ignorant of what was at stake? "That wasn't a real choice. Risk death to live free, or stay alive, but lose our freedom, be dominated. I'd rather die than be dominated." Maintaining eye contact with the goblin, he added, "By him, or by you."

The goblin didn't respond to that. "But there was a choice. It was simply not one you found acceptable."

Whatever, thought Harry in annoyance. "I suppose so, yes. But why didn't you care? I mean, it seemed that you didn't."

"Let us say that I am your master," said the goblin; Harry scoffed. "I know you resist the notion," the goblin allowed, "but let us just say it for now. Let us then say that I am removed, and another of my kind takes my place. Do you care? If you are dominated, does it matter who is doing the dominating?"

"Are you saying that you don't see any difference between--"

"Answer the question!" barked the goblin, as the sudden pain in Harry's foot reminded him that he hadn't.

"No!" shouted Harry as the pain intensified; he mentally prepared for the ordeal ahead. "And if I die this time, then I'll have the last laugh!"

He realized how it sounded just as he said it, but was pleased by the look of confusion on the goblin's face. He winced in pain and fell to the ground, holding his foot.

The goblin had resumed control over his tone and expression. "I withdraw the question." The goblin regarded him silently for a moment, then said, "You are a very peculiar human."

Unable to help himself, Harry laughed, wondering if Percy would think it was funny. "I've been told that. And now that you've withdrawn the question, I'll answer it. Of course, I would fight being dominated to my last breath." Again, he chuckled. "Literally, in this case, but usually it's just a phrase. But assuming that I had no choice, then yes, it would matter. A benevolent master would definitely be preferable to a nasty one."

"And you would fight, risk your life, your family's life, to help the benevolent master over the 'nasty' one?"

"It would depend on the situation. But you really don't see any difference between the Ministry and Voldemort? And since when is the Ministry your master?"

For the first time, the goblin laughed, but only for a few seconds. "Is your education no better than this? Are you unaware of how goblins have been treated throughout the history of this country?"

"I know there have been problems--"

"Problems!" repeated the goblin in astonishment. "Problems! Saying that there have been 'problems' is like saying that this wizard Voldemort was not a nice man!"

"I wasn't finished with my sentence yet," Harry pointed out. "Obviously what I said was very general. I've been told that humans have done a lot of terrible things to goblins. But I've also been told that goblins weren't totally innocent either. And I wasn't aware that the Ministry was your 'master.'"

"If you cared whether you lived or died," said the goblin, his expression suggesting that he still couldn't quite believe that Harry could resist so well, "I would be your master. Even if I did not mention it with my every utterance, even if we appeared to be having a pleasant conversation, you and I would know that I was your master. It would not need to be said. But you are young, and the young are often not aware of what is not said."

"But the Ministry doesn't tell you what to do," said Harry. He tried to speak carefully, not out of fear of punishment, but because he didn't know the situation very well. "I thought you ran Gringotts without interference from the Ministry."

"Whether or not the Ministry exercises it, they have power over us. The one you called Voldemort exercised it. The ones immediately preceding him did not, but it did not matter. They had that power. They knew it, we knew it."

"Yes, but the government always has power over us," Harry protested. "It doesn't mean that the government is our 'master.' Someone's always in charge."

"That government represents you, not us. Being ruled by your own kind is different from being ruled from outside. One is government; the other is subjugation. Or do you not understand that?"

Harry nodded slowly. "No, I understand that." He could find no holes in the goblin's logic, and was mildly chagrined that he had never thought of it that way.

The goblin looked satisfied, and stopped pacing for a moment. "Why was it so important to fight against this Voldemort? What did he do that was so objectionable?"

Harry wondered briefly whether the goblin really didn't know, or whether it was to draw a desired response. "He was violent, he killed without remorse, he tortured for pleasure and entertainment." Unable to resist, he added, "Not that it's any better if it's for a specific purpose."

The goblin stared, unblinking; Harry continued his answer. "He controlled those who did the same. He recruited dementors, which cause misery for whoever they're around."

"Only humans," interjected the goblin. "They have no power over us."

"I didn't know that," admitted Harry. "Anyway... he treated Muggle-born wizards terribly; tried to make them a separate and lower class, took away their wands--"

"In other words, treated them as goblins are treated," retorted the goblin. "How sad, for humans to be treated so terribly. No wonder you fought."

The goblin's sarcasm aside, Harry was again chagrined to realize that there was some truth to the observation. "Look, I'm not saying there was nothing for you to be unhappy about. He killed one of your people too--"

"How do you know that?" the goblin asked sharply. He was clearly angry, seemingly having dropped his attempts to mask his feelings.

"Not answering," replied Harry, not caring to tell the goblin about his mental link to Voldemort and the backstory it entailed. Pain instantly hit his foot. "I'd recommend you withdraw the question."

The cramping moved up his leg and thigh as the goblin stared angrily. "Answer the question! How do you know?"

"Not... answering!" Harry shouted through the pain, grimacing, trying not to scream as his stomach knotted again. "We've been through this! Didn't you--" A mild scream escaped his lips. "--get it? I'll answer what I choose!"

"You have no right! You caused his death!"

Harry writhed in agony as the burning spread through his body. Between gasps, he shouted, "This... isn't control... it's sadism! Are you a sadist?" He screamed, and prepared to try not to breathe.

The goblin reached into his robe, and suddenly disappeared; an instant later, the pain disappeared as well. Harry took deep breaths, trying to recover. Interesting, he thought, how the effect goes away when he's no longer there to hear the answer.

Well, that really ticked him off. I wonder if the one who was killed was a friend of his, or maybe he's just really sensitive about any human killing any goblin. He may not be a sadist, but close enough. He may not enjoy my being in pain, but he doesn't give a damn. He just let me endure it that time because he was angry. But he doesn't want me to die. Why? What does he want? I'd love to know, but I'll be damned if I ask him. Asking him anything I really want to know gives him power over me

Over the next hour, Harry considered various aspects of his situation. He wondered whether he should refuse food and drink, but realized that it would be simple for them to force it on him. He would make no request, and he would not try to escape, because it was obvious that any attempt would be futile, and would result in his being bound again.

He thought over what the goblin had said. He couldn't deny that the goblins were being ruled--after all, there existed a Goblin Liaison Office in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, he recalled from his brief time at the Ministry--but it seemed as though their conditions hadn't been bad. He reminded himself that he didn't really know their conditions other than what little he'd been told; the reality could be as bad as what the goblin suggested, or it might be not bad at all, and the goblin was just unhappy with the idea that the Ministry could control them even if they didn't. Now, he thought wryly, I really regret not paying attention in History of Magic. Knowing that stuff would help me right now. Of course, he'd just say that anything I learned was wrong, if it contradicted what he knew or thought.

He thought about those he'd left behind. The Ministry must be going crazy, they've probably already started an attack on Gringotts. I'm not going to get my hopes up, though; Bill said it would take a month, and in the meantime they could move me to God knows what place. No, I'm here until they decide they don't want me anymore. Then... what? Do they let me go, trade me, or kill me? Or just let me rot here for the rest of my life, just for the heck of it? Funny how that one disturbs me the most; I'd just as soon they killed me as did that. Having to look at nothing but goblins for the rest of my life...

Such thought occupied him for the next hour, until the old goblin appeared suddenly in the same place, about ten meters in front of Harry. Harry looked at him, but said nothing, and gave no overt reaction.

"I would like to know why you refuse to discuss how you came to know that one of us was killed by the wizard you called Voldemort."

Well, at least he's back to the indirect phrasing, thought Harry. "Explaining that involves telling a personal detail about myself that only my close friends know, that I don't want the whole world knowing. I'll just say that I wasn't there when it happened, and no one told me about it. But I knew it happened."

"Did you feel that the goblin who died in any way deserved his death?"

"Of course not. He was just telling Voldemort what happened. Voldemort was super-angry because I had stolen something that was necessary to get, to make sure he could eventually die."

Once again, the goblin was impassive. "Do you feel in any way responsible for that goblin's death?"

Harry thought for a few seconds, but found he didn't have to think long. "No. I know that what I did caused him to have to report it to Voldemort, who killed him, but that doesn't mean I'm responsible. Voldemort is the one who killed him, not me."

The goblin eyed him coldly. "Under goblin law, the law which we apply to ourselves, anyone who is a part of the chain of responsibility can be held responsible for a crime if they have done something illegal."

Ah, thought Harry, this begins to explain why they bothered to kidnap me. "And you plan to hold me accountable under this law."

"Do you think you deserve not to be held accountable for your actions?"

"Well, our law usually recognizes the overall circumstances..." He trailed off as the pain started in his foot, reminding him that he hadn't answered the question. Trying not to show that he was in pain, he labored to answer the question normally. "...when we judge someone for a crime. I think I don't deserve to be held accountable in the way you would, because from my point of view, there were huge extenuating circumstances. But I know you don't agree with that, so there'd be no point debating it."

"Despite obviously breaking your own laws, you were not even held accountable to them, so it is not surprising that you should say this."

Harry shrugged. "Like I said, extenuating circumstances. I think it's a well-established idea, not just for me."

"If I told you that you would be tried by us, in accordance with goblin law, what would your reaction be?"

He shrugged again. "I wouldn't be surprised. You obviously didn't kidnap me just to have a chat."

"And this does not disturb you? You act as if you do not care."

"My life has been one long string of things that happened to me that I couldn't control, or things I was called upon to do because there was no choice. It wouldn't exactly be right to say that I have no preference, but after a while you get resigned to the idea that things happen that you can't control. I go through all kinds of hell and problems to try to save my society, manage to do it, then this happens because I had to do something that hurt your society while trying to save mine. It's like, you can't win. So, to hell with it. You'll do what you'll do."

Harry realized he hadn't intended to say all that, but it had more or less tumbled out of him; he hadn't before had the conscious thought about all of the things that had happened in his life, but it was certainly true. His expression changing ever so slightly to one of surprise, the goblin spoke again. "Yet you fight me with a ferocity almost unprecedented for a human. Why fight so hard if you are so fatalistic?"

"Good question," Harry responded, and thought for a few seconds. "Just stubbornness, I suppose. Lately I've been very resistant to the idea of people telling me what to do. Maybe because I didn't have so many choices all my life. But also, the idea that while I can't control whatever you do to me, I can control what I say or don't say to you. So, I'll control what I can, and not worry about what I can't."

The goblin paused again, then continued. "Humans were also killed by the one called Voldemort at the same time as the goblin was. Let us suppose that one of these humans was someone precious to you. Would you regret having done what you did, indirectly causing their death?"

Harry thought again. "No. I'd regret that they died, obviously, and I regret that anyone was killed by Voldemort after what I did, human or goblin. But Voldemort was so bad that any price was worth paying to get rid of him. If I was willing to die myself, then that's pretty obvious."

Now, the goblin's eyebrows rose. "That was in the wizarding media, but I did not believe it, thinking it was fiction, to enhance your image. But clearly it is true, since here you cannot lie." There was another pause. "If this Voldemort had been holding someone precious to you, and you knew in advance that your actions would cause their death, would you have done it?"

"Yes," he said. "At least, I hope I would have enough strength to do it. There was just nothing else to do. Better to die than to live as a slave."

The goblin said nothing for a very long time, perhaps five minutes. Harry was wondering why he was taking so long, but didn't want to ask questions, or express any desires. He would answer questions he didn't object to, as he'd agreed when he requested to be let out of the bonds, but he didn't want to chat amiably. They had kidnapped and tortured him; he would not forget that.

"Why was it necessary for you to break into that particular vault and take that particular item?"

Harry thought about how to answer. "Please withdraw the question."

After a second, the goblin agreed. "I withdraw the question."

Harry nodded. "I will answer, to some extent. I just don't want the pain trying to tell me how much to answer. Normally I wouldn't answer, but one of your people died, so I suppose you deserve to know. But first, I'd like your promise that what I say won't be repeated in the wizarding world."

"Why?"

"This is one of those things I don't feel like making public."

"And my promise will mean something to you?"

Harry shrugged. "I have no way of knowing whether it means anything or not. But with anyone--human, goblin, or house-elf--I'll assume that I can believe what they say until they show me otherwise. You may be a torturer, but I don't think you've lied about anything. So if you promise, I'll believe it."

"You think I am a torturer?"

The expression and tone didn't change, but Harry knew the accusation had gotten to him, because for the first time, the goblin had asked a question that he should have known not to. "Obviously, since I couldn't say it if I didn't think it was true. I'm surprised you don't think you are, since it's pretty clear to me."

"You would have experienced no pain if you had done as you were told. The pain was therefore your choice."

Harry shook his head. "You torture someone, for any reason, and you're a torturer. Doesn't matter if it's because they won't do what you say. Anyway, let's not debate it. Do I have your promise?"

The goblin appeared mildly annoyed at having to promise Harry anything, but nodded. "Yes, I promise."

Harry gave a simple explanation about the Horcruxes, omitting any mention of the others except that they existed. "So, that's why there was no choice," he concluded. "If I hadn't done that, Voldemort would still be alive today, torturing and killing. Both humans and goblins," he added pointedly.

After a short silence, the goblin disappeared without a word or sound. Wonder if he's going to go off and think about that, or if he just has other things to do. He's probably surprised that I was telling the truth about how necessary it was. But there's no way he's going to change his mind about how guilty I am. He's got too much invested in this, not only kidnapping me, but cutting their connection to the wizarding world. Gringotts is gone, there's no way they'll ever do business again. Wonder where they're going to live. Come to think of it, where do they live now? Not in wizarding villages, I'd think, and even if they did, there'd be mobs after them at this point. Do they live underground, like Gringotts is underground? Wish I had a book about goblins now...

A few hours after the goblin disappeared, a tray suddenly appeared not far from where he sat on the floor. There was a piece of bread, a small whole chicken, and a large glass of water. There was also a slightly large bowl, whose purpose Harry was unsure of. There was no silverware, so he assumed he was to eat the chicken with his hands. He took a drink of the water, and poured a little water into the bowl, intending to use it to wash his hands. To his surprise, the water vanished as it reached the bottom of the bowl. Ah, he thought, this is how I'm supposed to go to the bathroom. There must be a Vanishing field at the bottom. Convenient; wonder why they don't use this at Hogwarts. Guess they figure that kids would start Vanishing things they shouldn't.

He ate the chicken and bread until he was full, deciding to assume that more would be forthcoming and not to eat until he was stuffed just because the food was there. He sat back, his back resting against the wall; it occurred to him that he had absolutely nothing to do. Well, he thought wryly, I wanted some time alone. Looks like I got it.

* * * * *

The goblin didn't come back, and for the next... maybe a day--Harry wasn't sure; there was no clock, and underground, no way to tell whether it was day or night--no one came to his vault. He managed to sleep a little, but not too much. He longed for something to read, or keep him occupied, but remained determined that he would ask for nothing.

He thought about the goblins' situation vis-à-vis the Ministry. He didn't know to what extent the Ministry usually interfered with the goblins, but he knew that they were more or less under the Ministry's control. Why was that? Just because the Ministry had the power? Or was there some reason that a neutral observer would find reasonable?

He kept coming back to two facts. One, he didn't know the history, and so couldn't make a judgment based on what had happened before. Two, the goblins were intelligent, living beings who, it seemed, deserved to live free of any kind of domination if they chose to. Had they kidnapped him to make him understand this? No, he realized; the old goblin had sought to assert total control of his person and his actions, which wasn't necessary to make him understand their situation. There was something very personal about this for him, Harry was sure.

He was drifting in a mental haze when he looked up to find the old goblin standing there; he gave a start, then calmed down quickly. He almost made a flippant comment about how quietly the goblin had appeared, then remembered that he wasn't going to talk to the goblins as if they were friendly. He stared at the goblin expectantly.

"I have some questions for you. I will withdraw them if you ask me to, but be advised that the extent to which you answer them will influence your future treatment."

"You should already know this, but I don't care."

The goblin gave a slight nod. "I knew this, but it was appropriate to warn you anyway. Do you consider it legitimate and proper that the Ministry possesses dominion over goblins?"

Harry couldn't help reacting with surprise; had they been reading his thoughts somehow? He chalked it up to coincidence. "Basically, no. There could be things I don't know, but unless there's some really good reason, then, no."

"So, you think goblins should be free."

"Again, basically, yes."

"And if goblins were free, we would have our own sovereign state, and our own laws, which others would be bound to respect."

"I guess. I don't know that much about this sort of thing. Hogwarts doesn't really teach it, except in history, which was so boring it was hard to pay attention."

"I have read wizard-written history books," sniffed the goblin. "Rest assured that you have simply avoided being misinformed. Imagine, if you will, that in order to reach the artifact you desired--"

"Needed," interrupted Harry.

"You had found it necessary to travel to another country, let us say France," continued the goblin, unfazed by the interruption, "and broken into an old and esteemed institution there. Extradited after accomplishing your task, you stood trial for your actions. Would you question the legitimacy of the trial?"

Harry could see where this was going, but wasn't going to stop answering just because he didn't like the answers. "No, I wouldn't."

"You would accept the verdict of that court."

"I'd have no choice but to accept it," Harry pointed out. "Obviously, no one wants to accept a verdict that goes against them. I'd hope that they'd understand the reason that I did it, and incorporate that into their judgment."

"So, to review. You accept that goblins should be free, and should have a sovereign state. You view the court of a sovereign state as legitimate. Does it not follow, then, that you should view our judgment as legitimate?"

Harry thought, and his right foot suddenly cramped. Rolling his eyes in annoyance, he said, "Will you please--"

"I withdraw the question."

Harry almost said 'thank you,' but resisted, as they deserved no politeness for not inflicting pain. He resumed his contemplation, and finally answered. "I'd say it follows that way in theory, not in real life. One problem is that in real life, it didn't occur to me that I was breaking any law other than the one enforced by the Ministry. If I failed, I'd be dead anyway. If I succeeded, and killed Voldemort, I knew I'd be forgiven. I had no feeling of knowingly committing a crime.

"The second problem is that you kidnapped me to get me here, which I believe is not what real countries do. They request the person be handed over, and if the country refuses... I don't know, I guess it affects their relationship or something. Like I said, this isn't my strong point. Diplomatic stuff happens, but not kidnapping. So, it's hard to see your judgment as legitimate when your way of getting me here wasn't legitimate."

"Your first point is utterly erroneous," retorted the goblin. "One's consciousness of committing a crime is irrelevant; what matters is what one does. The second point is also irrelevant; it is not unheard of for countries to resort to extra-judicial extradition in important cases when it is felt that there was no other way to achieve justice, and the eventual verdict is not seen as tainted by this." I'll bet it's seen that way by the country he was taken from, thought Harry. He knew he was ill-equipped to argue the point; there had to be a good argument against what the goblin said, but he also knew that it was irrelevant in any case. They would do what they would do.

"You will be tried, according to goblin law, the law we use to govern ourselves," announced the goblin. Big surprise, thought Harry, though he kept his expression level. No point in needlessly antagonizing them. "The first step in the process is that the defendant must recognize the supremacy of the court, and agree to submit to its will. When tried, will you do so?"

"No."

The goblin's expression was unchanged; he had obviously expected the answer. "The trial will begin when you agree to submit to the will of the court." Harry gave no reply, and after a few seconds, the goblin vanished.

Less than a minute later, he began to notice a peculiar smell in the air. A minute after that, he fell unconscious.

* * * * *

When he awoke, he discovered that he was bound again, but a little differently than before. His legs were tied up as before; there were ropes around his wrists which were connected to pegs in the wall, but with a certain amount of flexibility. He realized that it was enough to take care of bodily needs--the bowl was still there--but not enough to be remotely comfortable. He tugged gently at them, only to be rewarded with gentle shocks in both wrists. As a test, he tugged at one harder, and got a stronger shock. He looked around the room; everything else looked the same.

Well, this is going to be fun, he thought sardonically. Just me and my thoughts. I guess they're going to let me rot in here until I agree to their terms. There's obviously no escaping. Wonder if you can go crazy from having nothing to do. Even talking to Narcissa Malfoy wouldn't seem so bad right now.

The hours passed, painfully slowly. He tried playing mental games, imagining conversations with various people, and recalling how various spells worked. He even tried meditating, something he'd heard about once, but he didn't seem able to do it well. Too many thoughts. He realized he could call Kreacher, and Kreacher might be able to come--he knew from the story about Regulus that it was theoretically possible, though maybe not through Gringotts' defenses--but it was very risky, and of dubious value. Kreacher could very easily be caught, he knew, and might well be killed if he was. More importantly, they knew that he had a house-elf, and what was possible, so they had to have defenses. He wasn't willing to risk it.

Many hours--of course, he had no idea how many--later, he started drifting off to sleep, fatigue overpowering the fact that he was in no comfortable position to sleep. It seemed that he had just drifted off when he felt something poking his leg from below. Startled, he came awake and looked around--had it been an insect?--but saw nothing. A few minutes later, he started to drift off again, and again, felt the poking. Again looking, he again saw nothing. It happened a third time, then a fourth. He finally realized what was going on: he would not be allowed to sleep until he agreed to what they wanted. He brought himself to full alertness, determined to try not to fall asleep for as long as possible. He succeeded for several hours before falling asleep again, and being suddenly awoken again. Growing more and more frustrated, he started to realize that the aching tiredness he felt would only grow worse.

He decided to try what had saved him from the torture: holding his breath until he passed out. For a half hour or so, it didn't work because either he involuntarily breathed, mainly due to tiredness, or he fell asleep before he could pass out, and was jolted awake by whatever in the floor was doing it. Finally he succeeded, but the next thing he knew, he was jolted awake again. Had he slept at all? There was no way to know, and he felt no less tired. He decided it wasn't going to work, if only because it was the combination of torture and passing out that had stressed his body so badly the first time. This time, it was only passing out, which probably wouldn't be enough.

Half a dozen aborted sleep attempts later, he felt himself being hit in the side by a thick wooden stick that hovered near him, just out of his reach. He gathered that he'd fallen asleep and being poked at by the floor hadn't woken him up, so a new method to keep him awake was being used. He soon fell asleep, and instantly felt the stick whacking him again. He barely repressed the urge to scream in frustration as his body screamed out for the sleep it needed and was being denied.

* * * * *

Ron walked through the fireplace at Grimmauld Place, just having finished his day at work, though he might go back again after dinner. He was now splitting his time doing the unofficial work for his father, and helping Bill at the bank. It had been difficult for Bill to find the free time to train Ron even to do simple tasks, but Ron was now distributing and looking at loan applications, often from the very people he talked to on his father's behalf. The bank was now extremely busy, as it was virtually certain that Gringotts would shut down permanently, or at least, be run by goblins no longer.

The lot of the Muggle-borns persecuted by Voldemort was slowly improving, largely due to Arthur's strenuous efforts, and some help from Kingsley where needed. A few had been hired to work at the Ministry itself, though the Ministry was facing a money crunch of its own, as some people couldn't or wouldn't pay their taxes, pleading poverty due to the bulk of their money being trapped in Gringotts. Ron kept his ear to the ground for possible jobs for the Muggle-borns, but very few were available. He was beginning to seriously entertain the idea of suggesting to his father that they use magic to help the Muggle-borns get jobs in the Muggle world, if only temporarily, until the economy got better. He doubted his father would approve the idea, however. Any magical intervention in the Muggle world contained risks.

At least no one's complaining about the dementors, thought Ron. The combination of Harry's kidnapping and his letter urging patience had the effect of making people ashamed to complain; their complaints now were in the direction of the goblins. Almost the whole wizarding world was furious, and Kingsley had had to restrain people from trying to burn down Gringotts, if only so the wizards and witches participating in the siege could do their work uninterrupted. The Prophet was running highly inflammatory articles about goblins and their past misdeeds. Ron's grasp of history was shaky at best, but even he knew that humans had done plenty to harm goblins in the past. But none of that was mentioned by the Prophet.

Dudley walked into the room, and he and Ron exchanged greetings. Having spent a few hours in his company for the past few days, Ron had gotten to know Dudley reasonably well, and had no problems with him. He seemed to have grown out of the character that Harry had described previously, and wasn't unpleasant to be around. He was probably quieter than usual, Ron thought, because the wizarding world was still new to him, though he seemed to be learning more and more every day.

"So," ventured Dudley hesitantly, voice low, "Kreacher is... well... as good as dead, isn't he?"

"You can talk at a normal volume," said Ron. "House-elves have very good hearing; he can probably hear you from any room in the house no matter how quietly you talk. But yes, it was definite yesterday that he was past the point of no return."

"And he's happy about that."

Ron shrugged. "House-elves are different from us in some basic ways. But he really respects Harry, and in his culture, that means something. Also, I can understand the 'I'm old, I'm ready to go' thing. Not that I'm old, but... you know some of what Harry and Hermione and I have done. We've done stuff that we knew could get us killed, had a good chance of it. Not that I want to die, but you get a little used to doing dangerous stuff. Kreacher probably wouldn't have had much longer in his natural life anyway, so I can see where he's coming from. There are definitely worse ways to go."

Dudley paused for a minute. "I just can't see thinking that way."

"I guess once you risk your life, you see things differently. So, it was quiet here today?"

Dudley nodded. "I spent a while talking to Albus. It was pretty interesting. Funny how I'm getting used to talking to a portrait."

"What'd he talk about?"

"Various things, a lot about Harry. A little bit, the same as stuff you and Hermione have said, but more about him overall. With you two, it's what you did. With Albus, it's what kind of person he is. He said he thinks Harry will come out of this okay. I asked him why he thought so, and he said that Harry was the toughest kid his age Albus had ever seen. It seemed strange for him to say that, because you look at him, and you don't think of him as 'tough.' But Albus said he meant it like, resilient, can deal with whatever life throws at him."

"Sounds about right," agreed Ron.

"But he also said that he hopes life stops throwing stuff at Harry, because even he must have a breaking point. And if he's fighting the goblins like Albus thinks he is, and that on top of the Voldemort thing..."

"Yeah, I've thought of that. Well, when we get him back, he should have plenty of time to get better, we'll make sure everyone leaves him alone."

"Still no word from the goblins?" asked Dudley.

"Nope. No demands, no acknowledgment that they have him, nothing. They haven't denied it, either, just no communication at all."

"Where do they live, anyway?"

"There are goblin villages, apparently. You didn't see this in the Prophet the other day?" Dudley shook his head. "One of the goblin villages isn't far from Hogsmeade, and after Harry was kidnapped, a bunch of people from Hogsmeade went there. They said they were going to ask questions, but everyone knows they were really going to crack some heads. But the goblins were gone, the place was deserted. It kind of made sense; they had to know they were in big danger after they took Harry. Nobody has any idea where they are now."

They talked for a while longer, Hermione joining them a little before six. Soon thereafter, most of the Weasleys assembled there for Kingsley's daily briefing. Kingsley came through the fireplace at a quarter after six.

"Well, there is news," said Kingsley; everyone reacted with surprise. "The goblins have released a statement." He took out a piece of paper and read. "'The goblin community announces that we have apprehended the criminal Harry Potter, and he will stand trial for the crimes of malicious trespassing, the use of the Imperius Curse, theft, vandalism, and contributory responsibility to murder. Since the wizarding community has chosen not to act, we feel we must, in the name of justice.' That's all."

"Well, at least we know now they have him," said Ron angrily. "I'm sure he'll get a completely fair trial."

"Yes," agreed Kingsley, "if there was any doubt about what the verdict would be, they wouldn't have kidnapped him. Anyway, this doesn't help us much, except in that we can stop investigating all avenues that don't involve goblins. Still no demands, or anything of the sort."

A few more questions were asked, but Kingsley had given all the news he could. Ron held back the impulse to ask why he thought Harry hadn't called Kreacher, as he knew that Kingsley had no better idea than he did. He'd better call within three days, thought Ron, or else Kreacher could die, all for naught.

* * * * *

Harry had no idea how long it had been since he had slept; he only knew that he desperately needed sleep. His thought were jumbled, confused. He couldn't keep a line of thought going for as much as a minute before either another random thought intruded, or sleep did, followed by a rude physical awakening.

On a few occasions, he nearly called out that he was ready to give up, to do whatever they wanted; he had to think hard to remember what it was. Say that I recognize their court, was that what it was? What's so bad about that? No, I can't do it. They're the enemy, I can't do what they want me to do. I can't give in to Voldemort. No, wait, Voldemort's dead. But I can't give in.

His determination to fight rarely flagged, however, even in the face of a lack of sleep that in his increasingly few lucid moments he felt threatened his grip on reality. He had already had what must have been auditory hallucinations. Petunia shouting at him for something or other. Dumbledore speaking to him quietly. Sirius laughing. They're not really there, he told himself. You have to keep fighting.

Sleep teased him, fluttered in and darted away, always just out of his grasp. He had no idea what happened to the human body, the human mind, when sleep was denied for a long time, but he was now finding out. It was like being constantly thirsty and never being able to drink, but somehow worse. My mind is all I am, he thought, and it's being taken from me, piece by piece. He tried desperately to marshal his thoughts, to assert control over his mind. It was a huge effort; he felt he couldn't keep it up for long.

I wonder if they're trying to find me, he thought. Ron and Hermione are probably doing everything they can, but what can they do... Kingsley, Bill, I wonder how the bank is doing... Kreacher probably wouldn't mind killing a few goblins...

Kreacher! If I call, he can come! Why didn't I do this before?

Some part of Harry's mind recalled that he had thought of it before, but not done it for a reason. He had no idea what that reason was, and couldn't think of it now. He had to do what he could, it was getting more and more difficult to hold on...

"Kreacher!"

In almost an instant, Kreacher was standing in front of him, a joyous expression on his face. "Mas--"

In his haze, Harry almost couldn't follow what happened the second after Kreacher appeared. From two locations in the wall, more than a hundred thin, razor-sharp metal spears sprang out, hurtling towards Kreacher at lightning speed. Kreacher seemed to explode in a puff of pink and red. Flesh, bone, and blood flew all over, including onto Harry. The floor was a mess; no piece was larger than a Quidditch Snitch.

Harry gasped, letting out a guttural cry of grief and disbelief. The shock of what he had seen quickly brought him back to nearly-full alertness; adrenaline and fury washed through him. "You bastards!!" he screamed at the walls. Desperation took him over as he realized that he should have known it might happen; he suddenly remembered why he hadn't done it before. He raged at the walls, more frustrated than ever by the physical confinement, the pain, and the torturous lack of sleep. "You foul, murdering, fucking bastards!!" Feeling tears coming on, he had never felt so helpless, even when Sirius had died. At least then he could chase down the one who did it, try for revenge. Now, he could do nothing but impotently rage at thin air, the remains of a being who had served him faithfully spread all around him.

Lost in his fury and misery, he barely noticed the white mist that enveloped him. He slowly lost the energy to scream, and saw an armor-clad Kingsley appear out of nowhere. He was followed by two others, which was all Harry could register before he slipped into the blessed relief of unconsciousness.

* * * * *

Harry was lying flat on his back, feeling no better than he had the last time he'd been awake. He was still desperately tired, but felt as though something in his body had pushed him awake, as if he'd drunk five cups of coffee. Still heavily disoriented, he looked around; the first thing saw was Kingsley's face.

"Harry," the man said. "We're very glad you're okay."

"Kreacher..."

Kingsley shook his head. "I'm sorry, Harry."

"Have to sleep..."

"I know. But there's something we need you to do first. We have a Pensieve, we need you to put your memories in there, everything that happened since the goblins took you." He offered a wand, one Harry didn't recognize.

He ignored it, and rolled over as if to sleep. "Later. I need to sleep."

Kingsley suddenly appeared in front of him again. "Harry, I'm sorry, but this is very important, it can't wait. I promise, soon you can sleep all you want. But we need your memories, we need to know what the goblins did to you." He put the wand into Harry's right hand. "Remember what happened, right after they took you, after you touched the card. Where were you?"

"Gringotts, in a vault..."

Kingsley moved the wand in Harry's hand so it touched his head. "Everything that happened from then on, remember it, put it into the wand."

Reluctantly, Harry focused on doing as Kingsley said. Intent on finishing and being allowed to sleep, he didn't notice how much time was passing. Finally, Kingsley helped him put down the wand. "Okay, that's enough. Harry, you seem to have memory damage. We don't know how bad it'll be. Do you remember my name?"

"Kingsley," he breathed.

"Well, that's good. We'll find out the rest later. We'll check these, and talk to the people at St. Mungo's. Go ahead and sleep."

Harry had never heard more welcome words. He was asleep within seconds.

* * * * *

Next: Chapter 11, The Life That Should Have Been: Rescued from the goblins, Harry wakes up from a long sleep with memory damage--and a life that seems familiar, but yet unfamiliar.

From Chapter 11: Slowly, Harry got to his feet, and found he could stand without too much difficulty. Lily stood quickly and wrapped Harry in a hug.

Again, he had the sensation of this being both strange and familiar. He hugged her tightly, feeling far more of an emotional impact than he would have thought. He felt it should be natural to hug one's mother, but now it felt different somehow.