Harry Potter and the Gemini Connection

Chapter Three: Ragnok the Reluctant

Dear Mr. R. B. Weasley,

Congratulations on your excellent examination results. Due to your exceptional grades in the relevant subjects, and personal recommendation from three of your teachers, you have been selected as the primary candidate for an apprenticeship programme with Madam Pomfrey this year.

This position will involve assisting Madam Pomfrey in her day to day duties, the brewing of medical potions, and eventually the study of basic medical magic (covering diagnostic spells, pain relief charms, sleeping hexes and minor healing spells).

Because of the intensive nature of this course, it is not to be entered into lightly, as it will not be an excuse for missed deadlines in your regular classes. Also, if you accept this placement, you will have to relinquish your prefect duties, along with any extra-curricular activities that you are involved in.

This is a fantastic opportunity to learn skills that are highly prized by magical employers. Whilst this course will obviously be invaluable if you intend to progress into the Healing Arts, it will also stand you in good stead for a number of rewarding careers. In these troubled times the ability to heal is a precious talent.

If you do wish to take up this course, you must select Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms and Defence as your sixth year modules. We strongly advise against taking more than five subjects to N.E.W.T. level.

Please notify Professor Dumbledore of your decision in this matter before August 15^th.

Good luck in all of your future studies.

Madam C. Wigglesworth

(Head Healer - St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries)

It had been fifteen minutes, and counting, since Ron had opened the envelope. Mrs. Weasley was looking through the letter now for the first time, and the expression on her face was of barely concealed pride. Hermione was wearing a similar expression, which surprised Harry somewhat. When he had seen what the letter contained, he had half expected Hermione to be madly jealous, but she had been nothing but supportive. Maybe she had lightened up a bit over the holidays.

As Ron's mum finished reading she allowed the letter to fall gently to the tabletop and flung herself at her youngest son, catching him in a bone-crushing hug.

Ron looked mortified.

'Five Outstandings,' Mrs. Weasley was saying, through joyful tears. 'Oh, Ron! I knew that you had it in you. I'm so happy for you!'

'Oi, mum. Gerroff!' shouted Ron, blushing as he extricated himself from his mothers grip.

He cast an embarrassed glance at Harry and Hermione, who both smirked at him.

'I don't even know if I'm going to do it,' he declared. 'I mean, I really don't want to give up Quidditch now that I've just got onto the team.'

Mrs. Weasley's face rearranged itself into a stern glare faster than Harry would have thought possible.

'Is that all you ever think about!' she snapped. 'This is an amazing opportunity. Weasleys don't get handed advantages very often, and you are not going to waste it...'

'Mum, I just meant that I had to make this decision carefully.'

'Yes, I'm sure that's what you meant. Well, I'm fed up of my children making bad career choices. You'll take this job if you know what's good for you.'

She stormed out of the room, Ginny and Hermione following closely behind.

'Don't worry mate,' Harry said, in what he hoped was a considerate voice. 'I'm sure that the girls will calm her down. I wouldn't want to quit the Gryffindor team either. It is your decision in the end. Maybe McGonagall will let you do both.'

'I'm so stupid. There are tonnes of excuses I could have made for not being sure. Why did I have to choose that one?'

'I don't know. You're just tactless I guess.'

Ron smiled sadly, and Harry realised that they were alone in the room. He took a deep breath.

'Now are you going to tell me what you were talking about in your letter. I've been really worried about you.'

Ron's smile faded instantly, and he looked at his feet.

'Well, I don't want you to worry too much, because I'm probably wrong about it. I mean, I don't know much about this sort of thing, but...'

'Yes?'

'I think I've might have magical trauma.'

Harry looked back at him blankly. He'd never heard of 'magical trauma', although it sounded like it might be serious.

'I've never heard of it. What's..?'

'...it's something that usually only happens to young children, before they have control over their powers. It's where your magic leaks out of your body. Percy got it when he was little. That's how I know the symptoms.'

Ron's voice was croaking now, and Harry didn't know what to do, so he tried to put a brave face on it.

'But... surely it's not that serious. I mean if Percy had it.'

'That's the thing though. Percy was only three years old. His magical power drained away, but then he developed more. That's what happens. My development is... well, it's finished. If my magic goes, it'll stay gone.'

Ron's eyes were quite clearly watering now, but Harry pretended not to see it.

'Why are you telling me this? Why aren't you in St. Mungo's getting checked out? Getting cured? You have to go there straight away.'

'There isn't a cure. They can't do anything about it. If I'm right, I'll end up as a Squib.'

'God, Ron! How have you covered this up?'

'I... I wasn't really too worried until yesterday.'

'What happened...'

But at that moment, Hermione burst back into the room with an oddly pink face. Ron hastily turned away from the door and began to pad at his face with the corner of his T-shirt.

'Honestly Ron, I like your mother, but sometimes she can be so... unreasonable.'

'Tell me about it,' he said, turning back to face them. Harry was pleased to see that Ron's face was not too wet.

'So you're on my side about this then?' he asked, incredulously.

'Well... It should definitely be your decision,' she said in a measured voice, 'but if this is just about Quidditch, then I think you're being ridiculous,'

Given everything that his friend had just told him, Harry felt like jumping in and sticking up for Ron, but he could see Hermione's point. Even Harry would have to admit that Ron's worship of Quidditch went far beyond what was natural.

'What do you think Harry?' Ron asked pointedly.

'Er... Maybe you should write to Madam Pomfrey and find out more. I mean, you never know, there might be some perks to the job that you don't know about yet.'

Hermione glared at Harry, then at Ron.

'Isn't private tuition with a professional healer enough? I would kill for that chance,' she said.

'Hey, don't blame me! I didn't volunteer for it or anything,' Ron retorted.

Harry tuned out the bickering, put his head into his hands and sighed. Whatever the situation, you could always count on Ron and Hermione to turn it into an argument.

- HPHPHP -

The rest of the day passed without much event. Mrs. Weasley seemed to be purposefully avoiding talking about Ron's letter, although she made a delicious celebratory meal in honour of the O.W.L. results. Occasionally throughout the evening Hermione tried to ask Ron about how he had done so well in his Herbology practical, but he seemed unwilling to relive past exams. Harry had hoped to talk to Ron privately, to get the full story about magical trauma, but he soon gave up on that plan and instead joined Ginny for a game of Gobstones. He lost miserably, and of course ended up being squirted in the face by something that smelt remarkably like stinksap.

Although nobody mentioned it, it was obvious that the four of them were all hoping to stay up until the Order members returned. Unfortunately Mrs. Weasley seemed to be aware of that. As the clock struck midnight, the protesting teenagers were sent to bed.

Despite having tried to get Ron alone since their brief talk in the afternoon, Harry had no idea how to start the conversation. Seemingly sensing the tension in the air, Ron turned to face him, gave a knowing look, and then waved his arm above the bed.

A shower of blue and gold sparks shot out of Ron's fingertips, and bounced off the roof. Harry had a brief, insane urge to applaud, but he held back. This wasn't exactly a talent that Ron was proud of.

'So that's how you found out then?'

'Yeah.'

'Looks impressive though.'

'Yeah.'

'Listen Ron, maybe it isn't what you think. I mean, there have to be a load of magical illnesses that you don't know about.'

'Maybe...'

'It might not be an illness at all. I mean, it could be a new magical ability that you've picked up.'

'I suppose...'

'So you should take the apprenticeship. I'm sure you'd be able to learn loads about this sort of thing from Madam Pomfrey.'

'But what if I'm right? Fat lot of use I'll be in a medical emergency if I can't do any magic.'

'Muggles seem to manage.'

'Yeah, right. What do you think Madam Pomfrey would do to me if I tried to do that kiss of life thing?'

'Fair point, but still... don't you think it's worth a shot?'

There was a very long awkward pause, before Harry built up the courage to ask the next question he had in mind.

'Ron?'

'Yeah.'

'If you are right about this... and... if you do... you know, lose all your magic... how long do you have?'

'Oh, a while yet,' said Ron, with false cheer. 'A year or so, maybe two. It took almost a year for Percy, and I have more magic to lose. It depends how strong my magical core is, I guess.'

'I still don't get how you were acting so normally before. You need to tell somebody about this.'

'Like I said, I'm not sure whether I have it or not, and besides, I have told someone.'

'I don't count.'

'You do. I trust you. I know that you won't panic too much...'

'Yes, well... Don't count on that.'

- HPHPHP -

The next morning, Harry was awakened by phoenix song, which seemed to echo around the inside of his body, leaving a hot tingling sensation in the tips of his fingers and toes. The feeling was so welcome, that for almost a minute Harry did not consider the significance of having a phoenix in his bedroom, but was merely content to lie with his eyes closed, drowning in the sensation.

By the time he finally opened his eyes, Harry had become so certain that the phoenix would be Dumbledore's pet, Fawkes, that it came as a shock to be confronted by a different bird.

This one was also clearly a phoenix, but its plumage was a luminous silver colour. As far as Harry could remember from his copy of 'Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them', all phoenixes had scarlet and gold feathers. This was clearly outside of the natural order of things.

Harry looked across at Ron's bed, to find out what he was making of all this, only to find that the bed was empty.

Instantly situations flashed through Harry's mind. Was this a prank of the twins'? Maybe Ron had come up with this prank on his own, although he hadn't seemed to be in a mischievous mood last night. What if it was Death Eaters? Snape could be loyal to Voldemort, he could have passed on the location of Grimmauld Place. No, wait, Snape couldn't disclose the location, because of the Fidelius charm.

The fake-phoenix seemed to have noticed that Harry had woken up by now, because its piercing eyes were locked onto Harry's own. With a swift motion, Harry grabbed at his wand from the bedside table, took aim, and then stopped. The song had reached a crescendo, and it was so joyous, so beautiful, that Harry couldn't bring himself to end it. The bird took the moment of weakness to swoop, talons outstretched, aiming directly at Harry's head.

The moment of collision was the oddest sensation that Harry had ever felt. It was as though his head had temporarily become a liquid, and the phoenix had flown straight through his face into his brain.

Just as Harry was wondering what was going on this morning, and was seriously considering the possibility that he had finally cracked under all the pressure, the familiar voice of Albus Dumbledore sounded inside his head.

'Harry. The Order will return this morning. Do not pester them about what happened last night. I will discuss things with you in depth later. Don't attempt to send me a Patronus reply. The Ministry will detect it and you'll be in another hearing before you can say Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans.'

The message ended abruptly, and Ron burst into the room seconds later.

'Harry, are you ok. I heard a scream. Was it another You-Know-Who dream?'

'I thought you were calling him Voldemort now,' Harry teased, to cover his own embarrassment.

'Oh yeah. Sorry,' replied Ron bashfully, 'but was it..?'

'No, it was just a scary message from Dumbledore. He definitely likes to go for grand effects.'

'What did he do?'

Harry told the story, and Ron agreed that although Dumbledore was effortlessly cool, maybe sometimes he took 'dramatic flair' a little too far.

- HPHPHP -

Hermione took the news in a similar way to Ron, although she seemed far more interested in the content of the message.

'But Harry... Why?' she was saying.

'Why what?'

'Why is Dumbledore going to tell you things now? He's been keeping everything secret from you for so long. Why is he suddenly bringing you into the loop on all of this?'

Harry couldn't bring himself to look into Hermione's eyes and lie, so he stared at his feet as he replied.

'I don't know.'

'Then listen, I've been thinking about something since the Ministry. There was that prophecy there. That one about you and Voldemort. Anyway, I did some looking up in Hogwarts: A History. The initials on that prophecy orb, A.P.W.B.D, those are the same as Dumbledore's initials.'

Harry inwardly cursed at Hermione's love of research.

'Maybe it's a coincidence,' offered Ron.

'That would be a pretty enormous coincidence Ron. I think that Dumbledore knows something about you and Voldemort, Harry. Something about why Voldemort is so obsessed with you.'

'That's stupid,' said Ron. 'Why would Dumbledore keep something like that a secret from Harry?'

'Because he didn't want to upset me,' Harry responded, making a decision at that moment. Ron's mouth dropped open. 'Hermione's right, Dumbledore knew exactly what the prophecy said, and he told me about it the night that... that Sirius died. I don't really want to talk about it yet. I need to work it out for myself first.'

'But...' stammered Hermione, but Harry cut her off instantly.

'I'm going to tell you about it, just... just not yet, ok?'

Hermione looked like she was about to protest, but Ron (no doubt considering his own secrets) held her back, and gave a little nod of agreement to Harry.

'We can wait until you're ready, but don't bottle it up for too long. We'll still be here, no matter what happens.'

- HPHPHP -

Breakfast that morning began as a sombre affair. There was no concealing the fact that no Order members were present, aside from Mrs. Weasley. Everybody was obviously wondering about what had happened the night before, although nobody mentioned it, because Harry and his friends were following Dumbledore's instructions.

Ginny, who had not been told about the patronus message, seemed to be waiting for somebody else to ask about the mission, and kept casting meaningful glances across the table at her brother.

This morning Mrs. Weasley's technique for avoiding the subject was to ask countless questions about N.E.W.T courses.

It soon became quite apparent that all three of them intended to take Transfiguration, Defence, Charms and Potions, although electing for another two years with Professor Snape seemed vaguely masochistic.

After that, the three of them differed. Harry, who had assumed he would be accompanied by both of his friends, felt compelled to carry on with Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class. Ron, on the other hand, thought that this was even more suicidal than trying to take a N.E.W.T. Potions course. He had decided to continue with Herbology, as his letter had recommended, even though he hadn't fully made up his mind about the healer training yet.

Hermione was deeply upset that she could only take a maximum of six subjects. In fact, it required some forcefulness on Ron's part to prevent her from owling McGonagall, to ask for permission to take a seventh. Her eventual surrender said a lot about how much she had changed over the last few years. She still seemed torn, showing a preference for Ancient Runes and Arithmancy, but disappointed that Herbology could not be included as well.

The return of the Order was the only reason that Hermione stopped worrying about her studies temporarily. As the Weasleys, Tonks, and Lupin popped into view with four sharp cracks, Bill staggered and it looked as though Tonks was about to collapse until Lupin caught her arm. She in particular looked as though her eyelids were held open by some kind of charm - not surprising, considering she had been watching the Dursley house in the early hours of the previous day. Lupin and Bill led her from the room.

'Long night?' asked Mrs. Weasley sadly.

'Yes, you could say that,' agreed her husband, walking over to kiss her. 'I'll definitely need a couple of hours sleep. I'd best call Perkins, get him to cover for me at the Ministry.'

'Sit down love. Eat some toast. I'll call Perkins,' she said kindly, as she walked from the room.

'Thank you,' Mr. Weasley said as he sat at the table, taking a seat between Harry and Ginny. 'Is there any marmalade?'

Harry picked up the small jar, and passed it to his friends' father.

'Thank you,' he said again, then added with a sigh, 'I'm afraid that you were right.'

Harry had so expected to be faced with an information black-out this morning, that he nearly replied 'Right about what?' before remembering his predictions of the previous night.

'You mean, all the prisoners have broken out of Azkaban?' he asked bluntly.

Ron choked on his toast and had to be slapped on the back by Hermione. Harry suspected that she was hitting him rather harder than necessary, and his suspicions increased when she began to berate him about chewing his food properly.

Mr. Weasley looked across at the pair, suddenly transfixed, and after a few seconds, his lips curled into a brilliant smile. Ron completely missed the look, but Hermione noticed, and a definite blush began to colour her cheeks. Deciding to give his friends a break, Harry turned Mr. Weasley's attention back to the Order business by tugging on his sleeve.

'Not all of them,' he finally answered, 'but the Death Eaters. The ones who are loyal to You-Know-Who's cause.'

Harry remained silent for a moment. He didn't want to admit it, but he had been imagining Azkaban as a holding centre for Death Eaters. The reminder that there were other criminals in the wizarding world came as something of a shock. Since Sirius, his mind had reduced the struggle to Dark versus Light, Death Eaters against the Order, Voldemort versus... well, himself. True, that was a major part of it, but there was a bigger picture, shades of grey. The death of Voldemort wouldn't eliminate evil. The reasons for Voldemort's support would continue to exist.

It might be Harry's job to rid the world of one evil dictator, but even if he could, what was the point if another would just rise in his place? Whilst the pure-blooded wizards hated Muggles, and the humans hated the other races, the war would never end.

Harry's shoulders slumped and he must have looked particularly defeated, because every eye at the table turned to look at him. He tried to smile, but he was sure that it wasn't very convincing.

'We've put them in Azkaban once. We can do it again.'

He cursed his voice for shaking. He didn't really want to fight any more. He wanted to leave the country, to live as a Muggle in a quiet village where everybody knew his name but nobody knew what it meant.

Mr. Weasley put a hand on Harry's shoulder. Some of the tension lifted, as Harry realised there was something he wanted even more than anonymity. He wanted to be part of a family. With the Weasleys he had something like that, he wasn't about to give it up because he was afraid.

Lupin walked back into the room, without Tonks or Bill. He shared a significant look with Mr. Weasley before he spoke.

'Isn't it weird?' he asked with a laugh.

'What's weird?' Ginny interrupted, obviously keen for gossip about her brother.

Lupin gave another laugh.

'Nothing scandalous I'm afraid. It's just strange... the way that the Order has become so close this time. When we were together last time, there was so much pressure on us. We knew we had a spy,' Harry winced as he thought of Pettigrew, 'we knew that the war was going badly, that we needed a miracle.'

Harry winced again - he could tell where this story was heading, and decided to make Lupin skip that part.

'So what's different this time?'

'Well, for a start, the Order's been together for a whole year without much enemy activity. We've had a lot of bonding time.'

'Plus,' added Mr. Weasley, 'like you said, we've stopped the Death Eaters once. Ok, we had a bit of a lucky break, but still...' he trailed off.

'And this time we don't have a spy,' Lupin pointed out.

Harry glanced at Lupin curiously.

'Well, we hope not. We don't think so. There haven't been any information leaks that we know about.'

Lupin took a deep breath and continued to speak, with a very measured voice.

'I know that the war is only just beginning, and there have been losses,' Lupin looked straight into Harry's eyes, 'but the feeling in the Order is far more optimistic this time...'

'...and that means that the Order members are getting closer,' Mr. Weasley continued. He yawned before adding, 'This house might be dark and oppressive, but it's brought a huge family together.'

Mrs. Weasley re-entered the room.

'So, what's the plan?' she asked her husband, casting a glance at the teenagers.

'Well, Dumbledore reckons that we need to go to Diagon Alley as quickly as possible. Before You-Know-Who has chance to plan an attack. His supporters will need a little time to recover from Azkaban.'

'Today then?' she asked.

'Yes. It has to be,' he agreed, blinking rapidly in an effort to focus his tired eyes.

'I'll accompany you,' said Lupin. 'I'm used to sleepless nights. I think that your husband might just nod off right here!'

- HPHPHP -

As Harry clambered out of the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron, he was shocked at how empty the normally busy pub looked today. There were still the hooded figures hiding in dark alcoves, but where were all of the regular wizards? The Hogwarts students? The mothers with children?

Tom the barkeeper was still there, but he looked thoroughly shocked to see them at first. He recovered quickly, and rushed over to greet them and offer them drinks, flashing a subdued imitation of his usual toothy grin.

'Hullo, Remus. What can I get you?'

Professor Lupin looked rather sheepish, and Harry could read his expression as though it had subtitles. They were supposed to be shopping as quickly as possible and getting back to the safety of headquarters, but Lupin felt guilty to just leave, because Tom's trade was obviously low. Luckily Mrs. Weasley didn't seem to have such reservations about stating her mind.

'Sorry Tom, we can't hang about today. Lots to buy.'

Tom looked crestfallen, and there was a definite slump to his shoulders as he returned to the bar, muttering to himself about 'ungrateful witches using my pub like a Portkey.'

One thing that Harry had been quite curious about, was how they were supposed to pick out their course books for the next year, given that none of them had received book lists yet. However, it became immediately clear, once they had entered Flourish and Blotts.

Mrs. Weasley reached into her large knitted bag, and pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment. Harry recognised the handwriting at once. He had seen that scrawl before, in red ink on his Potions homework, offering berating comments about his complete lack of talent.

'When did you see Snape?' he demanded.

'Professor Snape,' she corrected, 'popped into headquarters late last night. I got him to put together a list of all of the N.E.W.T. course books just in case we had to come early...'

She scanned the piece of parchment in her hand.

'Hang on. There are only eleven on here... he's forgotten about his own subject.'

'Forgotten?' said Ron incredulously. 'He's probably just trying to tell us that we aren't welcome on his course.'

'Must you always be so paranoid about Professor Snape?'

'Must you always defend him? None of you would trust him if it wasn't for Dumbledore.'

Considering the silence that followed that statement, it seemed Ron had touched a raw nerve. Lupin tried to cover the awkward moment.

'It doesn't matter. Professor Snape always uses the same book for his N.E.W.T. courses. I think it was written at about the same time as Hogwarts was built. Some of the potions in it are absolutely impossible.'

'Typical...' grumbled Ron. 'I'll probably last about a week.'

'Ron!' snapped Hermione. 'You'll be fine. You got an Outstanding O.W.L, remember?'

'Merlin knows how...' Ron muttered, although he seemed slightly placated.

The hunt for books went more quickly than usual. Maybe it was because they were taking fewer subjects (Hermione was still complaining about being limited to six), or maybe it was because the other Hogwarts students hadn't visited Diagon Alley yet, so the shelves were fully stocked. Whatever the reason, it wasn't long before Harry had the full complement of books, and wanted to go and find the twins joke shop.

Mrs. Weasley seemed less keen.

'I think... yes, we should definitely visit Gringotts first, and then I have some things I need to pick up. And surely you'll need some new Potions ingredients from the Apothecary? I'm don't think we'll have time to visit the twins today.' She looked worried at the thought of it.

'She hasn't visited the joke shop yet,' whispered Ginny into Harry's ear. 'She's proud of Fred and George's success in theory, but I don't think she wants to see what they've actually designed.'

Given the twins' history with this sort of thing, Harry had to admit that Mrs. Weasley might have a point.

- HPHPHP -

The wizard bank, Gringotts, seemed noticeably busier than the rest of Diagon Alley, although Harry realised that this was because of all the goblins. They did not seem to have been intimidated away from work by the impending war, and were behind their long counter, typing and filing as efficiently as ever.

The only other humans in the bank were two women, walking away from the group, towards the vaults. Harry absent-mindedly watched their long black hair retreating for a while, before one of them turned slightly, and Harry realised who she was. Cho Chang, his former sort-of-girlfriend. He turned away quickly. The last thing Harry wanted was for her to think he was still interested. She was nice enough, but together the pair of them were a train wreck.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief when the women passed out of the hall without turning around.

Mrs. Weasley led the group to the nearest free goblin, who was scribbling furiously into a large leather bound book. As she cleared her throat, the goblin clucked impatiently at being disturbed.

He looked up, without pausing in his writing, and spoke in a contemptuous voice.

'Can I help you?'

'Is there some problem with that?' asked Mrs. Weasley darkly.

The goblin seemed to sense that this was not a witch to be trifled with, for his quill ground to an awkward halt. Harry didn't understand the language on the paper, but it looked as though the goblin might have stopped in the middle of a word.

'Certainly not, ma'am,' he replied, suddenly the model of courtesy.

'Good. Well, if it isn't too much trouble I would like to withdraw some money from the Weasley family vault.'

'Very well. You have your key, I presume?'

'Of course I do,' she responded, reaching into a tiny pocket in the lining of her cloak, and withdrawing the object in question.

'Will that be all?' asked the goblin.

'I think so,' Mrs. Weasley turned to Harry. 'You don't need to get any more money out, do you Harry?'

The goblin's head swivelled and locked onto Harry's. Its gaze made the familiar journey to Harry's scar, which he quickly covered with his fringe.

'Can't I go anywhere without people staring at me?' he asked, despairingly. It practically came out as a shout.

'I beg your pardon, Sir, but I believe that Mr. Ragnok may have a message for you.'

Hermione gasped. All eyes were suddenly on her.

'Ragnok wants to speak to you? Ragnok?' she questioned. 'He's the head of Gringott's. He's in all of the history books. It's Ragnok who has been campaigning for...'

Harry cut off this History of Magic lecture with a look, and turned back to the disdainful goblin.

'What is this message?' he asked.

'I don't know. I was just told 'If Harry Potter comes to Gringotts today, send him to speak with Mr. Ragnok' so I'm passing the message along. His office is through that door,' he indicated with a point. 'I'm sure his receptionist will deal with you.'

After a moments pause, the goblin seemed to remember himself, and picked up the tiny Weasley key.

'The rest of you, follow me. And try to keep up. Time is Galleons.'

Nobody did anything for a moment. It seemed that nobody liked the idea of leaving Harry alone when he was such a huge target. It only took a few seconds though, for the group to split themselves. Lupin and Hermione stayed with Harry, but the Weasleys, dragged by their mother, followed the banker towards the vaults.

- HPHPHP -

The reception area was nothing like Harry had been expecting. He was half-reminded of Professor Trelawney's classroom, all soft cushions and little coffee tables. The big difference was the atmosphere, which was breezy rather than stiflingly hot. It was clear that Ragnok was a busy goblin because the room could have held the entire Divination class quite easily, although now it was empty.

The receptionist was another surprise, not a goblin at all, but a wizard. Harry supposed that goblins were not very good at jobs involving public relations. On the other hand, some goblins were probably friendlier than the few he had happened to meet. Maybe the human receptionist was just supposed to make clients feel more comfortable.

He was a young, skinny man, of around twenty, with dark brown hair that fell to his shoulders and a very broad smile.

'Hello sir. How may I help you?' he addressed Lupin cheerfully.

Harry was the one who answered.

'I think that I have an appointment with Mr. Ragnok. That is, Mr. Ragnok seems to be expecting me.'

'It's just Ragnok,' he laughed, and Lupin joined in. 'It's the goblins that call him Mister, 'cos of his standing in their world.'

'Oh, right.'

'So, who are you?' asked the receptionist.

'Harry Potter,' he muttered quickly.

'Oh!'

There was the annoying glance at his scar during a big pause in conversation.

'Yes. Ragnok is expecting you.'

'You wouldn't happen to know why, would you?'

'You mean, you don't know?'

'Haven't got a clue.'

'Well, I was just told that if you turned up I should send you straight in.'

The receptionist raised his wand, turned, and cast a charm at the back wall, where a plain white door appeared.

'Just go straight through there. Oh and...'

'...yes?'

'Don't worry about it. Ragnok is a pretty nice guy. I mean, for a goblin.'

Hermione made a 'Hrumph' sound, which Harry took to mean that she didn't like the implied racism in that statement. He hurried her through the door before she had time to get into her 'equality for all races' spiel.

Any hopes that this odd situation was a misunderstanding were dashed as they entered Ragnok's office. The rather distinguished looking goblin raised his head to identify the intruders, and promptly dropped a crystal inkwell onto his desk, which shattered, sending black streams running across the documents that lay there.

Ragnok swore loudly.

Lupin drew his wand and cast a quick cleansing charm, which instantly returned the work to its original state. A second flick of the wrist repaired the broken bottle, although it was now empty.

'Thank you,' said Ragnok graciously, although Harry noticed that his breathing was laboured.

'Quite alright, we all have accidents from time to time...'

'I must apologise. I'm not normally so clumsy, but I confess that I am troubled. I had hoped that my source was mistaken.'

Harry was grateful that Ragnok seemed to be getting to the point quickly.

'Yes? What is it?' he prompted impatiently.

'Two weeks ago, I received an unusual owl, requesting my services in a most... unorthodox matter.'

It seemed as though the goblin was addressing Harry directly, and since Harry was the one invited to this meeting, he was the one who spoke first.

'I'm not sure what you think I can do. I'm not even finished at school yet.'

'No, you don't understand,' Ragnok said. 'My owl came from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He intends to recruit me, and through me sway the goblin nation into his service.'

An uncomfortable silence followed this, but not for long.

'...and you don't want to become Death Eaters?' asked Hermione, tentatively.

Ragnok looked at his feet for a moment before answering.

'We have considered his offer. A lot of goblins think that we should accept it but...'

'...but he's an evil dictator who won't even grant equal rights to all humans once he gains power. You can't trust him,' said Hermione. Harry was impressed. He hadn't thought of that. He suddenly found it even harder to believe the level of support that Voldemort had gathered amongst other races.

'You are very smart,' said Ragnok. 'Mr. Potter is wise to trust you. I wish that more of my peers could see the future as clearly as you.'

Hermione blushed before Ragnok continued.

'However, you forget how desperate the goblins are. For years we have been fighting for the right to use wands, to have jobs that do not involve banking, to raise our children as equal to wizards. The faint hope that he offers is enough for most of us.'

'So, what did you say to his offer?' asked Harry.

'I said no. Voldemort might seduce most of us in the end, but he won't do it through me.'

'...and what did he think of that?'

'He wasn't impressed. I got a visit last week from a masked man. He was threatening me to reconsider. I wasn't tempted; to be honest the Death Eater in question sounded quite desperate.'

'He punishes them if they fail in a mission,' explained Harry offhandedly. He was thinking of the Unforgivables that Voldemort had dished out to his followers, on the night he had been resurrected.

Ragnok shuddered at the thought of being punished by Voldemort.

'You're quite a good ambassador, you know. You aren't as pompous as most of the men who come from the Ministry, and in five minutes you've already made me even less likely to join Voldemort.'

It was Harry's turn to blush.

'Anyway, I'm sure you are wondering how I knew that you would be here.'

Harry nodded, his cheeks still red.

'The Death Eater who was sent to speak to me was foolish. He assumed that my lack of a wand made me a weak magician. He clumsily tried to Legilimence me, and in doing so, he granted me access to his mind.'

The group was suddenly alert, all traces of embarrassment gone. This was an enormous break, a first hand look at the Death Eaters plans. Ragnok continued.

'This Death Eater seemed convinced that you would be visiting Gringotts today... and he didn't expect you to leave.'

Shock, fear, and a sense of betrayal raced through Harry's head. It seemed that the Order had a spy after all.

'You think that there is going to be an attack?' he asked, praying that he had misinterpreted the goblins statement.

'It certainly seems likely...'

'...but Dumbledore said...' began Hermione.

'Dumbledore has been known, on occasion, to make mistakes,' interrupted Lupin. 'So why were we not warned of this before today?'

Ragnok looked uncomfortable, but when he replied his voice was defiant.

'My channels of communication are surely being watched. I do not want He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to think I am in league with his enemies.'

'But you just told us...'

'Refusing to join Him does not automatically make me one of you. I want to stay out of this war. Most of my fellow goblins want to stay out of this war. Until we are offered something real, by somebody we can trust, we will not fight such a dangerous battle.'

'Then why are you telling us all of this?' asked Harry angrily.

Ragnok's face was more uncomfortable than ever, and when he spoke it was with a small voice that sounded almost apologetic.

'Gringotts is a symbol in the goblin world. It represents the great things that we have achieved through oppression.'

'Spare us the rhetoric,' growled Lupin, sounding oddly wolfish.

'I... I want you to get out of Diagon Alley as quickly as possible. I can't have Death Eaters storming in here throwing curses around. Have you any idea how much damage they can cause?'

Harry growled himself at this. All this time, the goblin had been thinking about his money.

'Fine. We're leaving. Find the Weasleys for us, and we'll go home.'

'I don't think we have time for that,' Hermione said, voice shaking almost as much as her knees. Harry followed her gaze.

Halfway up the wall of Ragnok's office was a small circular window, and peering through it was the eye of a creature that Harry had hoped never to see again.

A dragon.