Chapter Twenty-One.
Harry and Ron led Hermione down the corridors of Hogwarts. “Why d’you need to see Lupin again?” Ron asked curiously. Hermione had never before seemed so reluctant to talk to a teacher. “We’ve just had Defence. Don’t tell me you’ve got detention.”
“I have not!” cried Hermione, stung.
“That’s one of the things we’ve got to talk to you about later,” said Harry, lowering his voice. He gestured to the other students in the corridor. “Somewhere that other people can’t hear us.”
“Right,” said Ron, clearly understanding. “I’ll catch up with you afterwards, then. I’ve got Muggle Studies now, oh joy. If you can get hold of Bill, tell him I said hi, will you?”
“Course,” said Harry.
“I thought you liked Muggle Studies,” said Hermione, but Ron’s answer was cut off by the sight of Draco Malfoy, hexing another student in the corridors.
“Well, really,” said Hermione angrily. “And to think he’s been on the receiving end of it himself, recently. You’d think he’d stop after knowing what it felt like!”
“Not bloody likely,” said Harry. He watched the scene with interest, and although he didn’t know why, he got the feeling that Malfoy, though clearly back to his normal self, was somewhat more thin-skinned than usual.
“Well, I can’t let him get away with it,” said Hermione, starting towards him. Harry hauled her back.
“Leave it,” he advised. “We’ve got somewhere else to be, remember?”
Hermione scowled at him, and jerked her arm away. Before she could stomp over to Malfoy, however, Ron hauled out his wand, heaving a sigh. “Get on with you,” he said. “It sounds important. I’ll deal with Malfoy.”
Harry and Hermione’s jaws dropped. “What?” said Hermione weakly.
“Think you’re the only Prefect around here, do you?” said Ron, though he looked a bit red. “Besides, how often do I get the chance to give detention to Malfoy?” He grinned at them. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
A few minutes later, Harry and Hermione were seated in Lupin’s study. Hermione was twisting her hands in her lap, clearly uncomfortable, while Lupin set up tea and biscuits. He offered Harry a Ginger Newt.
“No thanks, Professor,” said Harry. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble though, I’d like to use the Floo to call Bill Weasley.”
Lupin nodded, and waved him over to the fire on the other far side of the room. Harry suspected that he could let off all of Fred and George’s fireworks, and from the way he was looking at Hermione, Lupin still wouldn’t have paid him that much attention.
Harry made his way over to the fireplace, trying not to listen to the sounds of conversation behind him. Still, he couldn’t help but notice that things were a bit stilted “ but he knew from experience that Lupin was a good listener, and Hermione had always liked him. He was confident things would improve.
He threw some Floo powder into the fire and stuck his head in, trying not to think of the inelegant view of himself he was giving to the other people in the room. “Bill Weasley’s office, Gringott’s Bank,” he said, in a clear voice.
Through the green flames of the fire, he saw Bill Weasley startle, and turn from what seemed like an urgent conversation with a uniformed goblin that Harry did not recognise. “Harry!”.
“Bill, I need to talk to you,” said Harry desperately. “About the Prophet…”
“Not like this,” Bill said tersely, exchanging a glance with the goblin, who was watching Harry with a jaundiced expression. “Stand back, I’m coming through.”
Moments later he stepped neatly through into Lupin’s study, with barely a speck of soot on him. Harry eyed him gratefully; although the abruptness of Bill’s earlier words worried him. The feeling dissipated when Bill clapped him wordlessly on the shoulder, and began to tug off dragon skin gloves with his teeth, moving forward to shake Lupin’s hand. The two men exchanged greetings quietly, and Bill gave a quick smile to Hermione.
“I don’t need to tell you you’ve put the cat among the pigeons, do I?” he said to Harry.
Harry grimaced. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve probably made things worse, but I couldn’t stand by and watch the Prophet do what they were doing and not say anything. It’s not fair.”
“Fair and politic are two different things,” said Bill seriously, but although he gave Harry a reassuring smile, Harry could see that his heart wasn’t in it. “Try not to worry about it,” Bill continued, noting the expression on his face. “What’s done is done, and probably would have happened down the track anyway. You’ve just hurried it along.”
Harry wasn’t sure whether or not to believe him. There were black rings under Bill’s eyes and it looked as if he hadn’t shaved for a couple of days. Harry didn’t know the oldest Weasley sibling very well, but he looked to be a very worried man “ albeit one that was trying to hide it. His shoulders were set in the same way as Ron’s were when Ron was upset about something.
“Can I offer you a drink?” said Lupin. “You look as if you could use it.”
“Thanks, no,” Bill replied. “I’m sorry for interrupting you like this, but I thought it better to come in person, while I still could. I need to speak to Dumbledore, and Harry here is going to need to come along. You’re welcome, if you want to join us.”
Hermione looked half-hopeful, half-disappointed at this, but Lupin declined firmly.
“I’m sure that I can trust Harry to fill me in on it later,” he said. “But there is something quite important that I need to talk to Hermione about.” Her face set into a resigned expression, and Harry gave her a sympathetic look.
He noticed that Bill was staring at her speculatively, and hoped he wouldn’t say anything. Bill looked as if he was about to make a comment as to exactly what their discussion would be about, but appeared to think better of it. Instead, he reached out to Hermione and gave her a comforting squeeze on the shoulder. “Enjoy the goblin histories, did you?”
“They’re fantastic,” Hermione admitted plainly. “I wish more people could read them.”
“There’s not much chance of that now,” Bill said, with a pained expression. He motioned Harry towards the door. “Come on, mate. We’re a bit short of time, here.”
With a short goodbye to Hermione and Lupin, he led Harry through the door, walking quickly in the direction of Dumbledore’s office. Harry remembered suddenly that Bill had been Head Boy at Hogwarts, and had probably spent more time in that office than he had.
“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to keep up with Bill’s long strides. “Hermione told me I shouldn’t have done it, But-”
“Save it,” Bill warned. It was spoken in a friendly tone, so Harry knew that he was not to take it personally. He noticed that Bill was drawing a lot of glances as they moved through the corridors, mostly from girls. They were staring at him with their mouths open, dozens of them, and Harry felt a little put out at the thought that they had never stared at him that way. Of course, he didn’t have a ponytail and a fang earring.
“How’s Ron doing?” Bill asked casually. “I was surprised not to see him with you.”
“He’s got class,” said Harry. “He said to say hi. I told him this morning that he should just bunk off,” he admitted, “but he said you probably would have told your mother.”
Bill smirked. “Absolutely I would have,” he said. “What kind of ex-Head Boy would countenance such a thing?” He stopped for a moment and checked his pockets, drawing out a small Quidditch figure, dressed in an old-fashioned style. “Give him this for me, will you? I found it in a market in Morocco. It’s about a hundred years old, I think, and cost a packet. I thought of him when I saw it, and knew he’d like it. Tell him I’m sorry to have missed him, will you?” He dumped a handful of beads in Harry’s hand as well. “And there’s a bracelet for the brat as well, from the same place.”
“Sure,” said Harry happily, pocketing the figure himself after inspecting it minutely, and stuffing the bracelet in afterwards. He knew that Ron would be thrilled “ not just with the present, but with the fact that his oldest brother had thought to remember him while off doing something that was no doubt more exciting than the usual day at the office.
“Everything alright with him, then?” Bill repeated. “And Ginny?”
“Yeah,” Harry replied. “Why?”
“No reason,” said Bill, as they turned onto the corridor where Dumbledore’s office was situated. “But things are a bit hairy these days, so I thought I’d check.” They stopped outside the gargoyles.
“There’s a password. Usually some kind of sweet,” said Harry, before realising that Bill probably knew all this from his own days at Hogwarts. “And you might have to wait,” he warned, a trifle resentfully. “Dumbledore’s been pretty hard to get hold of recently.”
“Oh, he’ll see me,” said Bill, in a tone of absolute certainty. “I’m here representing Gringott’s after all. He doesn’t have much choice.” Lifting his left hand, he touched the gargoyle with a large square ring that he wore on his middle finger. Harry hadn’t noticed it before, but as Bill lowered his hand he caught a glimpse of a dark stone with a ‘G’ indented into it. Seeing his interest, Bill showed him the ring. “Think of it as a way of announcing an entrance,” he said. “There are a lot of people that don’t like Gringott’s coming to call, and this way they can’t get out of answering the door.” As he spoke, the staircase opened up and they made their way up to the Headmaster’s office.
Stepping into the room above, they saw Dumbledore rise to greet them. He smiled warmly at Bill. “You know, as much as I would like to think that one of my favourite former students has come by to say hello to an old man, I rather suspect there is a more pressing reason for this call.”
“Sorry for the interruption, Headmaster” said Bill, not really looking sorry at all, “but we’ve got problems.”
“Yes,” Dumbledore replied, waving them towards chairs, “I have seen the Prophet over the last day or two. Playing with fire, there.”
“More than you know,” said Bill, seriously, dropping his friendly demeanour. “They’ve finally pushed too far, I’m afraid. Gringott’s have frozen their accounts.”
Dumbledore started from his chair. “Surely not!”
“They’re doing it as we speak. As of about five minutes ago, no money goes in or out. The implication that Gringott’s Bank has been coercing Harry here was the last straw, I’m afraid.”
“Excuse me, Headmaster,” said Harry, a little hesitantly. The rather sickened expression on Dumbledore’s face and the absolute seriousness of Bill Weasley’s expression worried him, especially as he could not see why. “But isn’t this a good thing? The Prophet’s absolutely useless, and I can’t say I’m sorry to see Rita Skeeter out of a job.”
“The Daily Prophet has its flaws as a paper, Harry,” Dumbledore replied, “but it has long had a monopoly on press in this country. Its resources and distribution system have been heavily used by the Ministry to help spread information about Voldemort. Most of it is rather exaggerated, true, but the fact remains that many in Britain will wake tomorrow with the little access to information that they had gone. The Ministry’s greatest means of informing people about emergency planning “ evacuations, warnings, and defence advice “ has just disappeared.”
“What about the wizarding wireless?” said Harry, shaken.
“A subsidiary of the Prophet,” said Bill grimly. “That’s out as well.”
Harry was horrified. “D’you mean to say that the goblins have just hung everyone out to dry?” he asked. “Don’t they care what this would mean? If not for the wizarding world, then for themselves?”
“The Ministry can use other papers, find another airwave, boost other resources,” said Dumbledore. “It will take some managing, and a huge amount of resources, but the gap left by the Prophet can actually be closed fairly quickly, I think.” He shot a reassuring glance at Harry. “It is not as bad as all that, I hope.”
Bill snorted. “The Wizengamot will be up in arms about all this though “ especially after the attack outside Gringott’s and all the publicity that caused.”
Dumbledore nodded slowly in agreement. “I fear I shall be going there directly after our talk. Do you have discretion to come with me?”
Bill shook his head. “I have to get back to the bank. Though I’m afraid my route won’t be as direct as yours. I strongly suspect that the Floo Board will have cut off access to Gringott’s by now, in retaliation.”
“What! Why?” interrupted Harry, confused. He wished that he had thought to insist that either Hermione or Ron had accompanied him. He had a feeling that they would understand what was going on much better than he was. “Oh,” he said miserably,
“Hermione was right. I shouldn’t have sent that letter.
Bill clapped Harry’s shoulder again. “You didn’t cause anything that hasn’t been coming for a long time. As to the “why”,” he went on wearily, “Retaliation, pure and simple. This is going to turn into one hell of a power struggle. Goblins have been running the wizarding financial world for centuries, and this hasn’t always gone down well with the wizards, who think they have too much power. The only reason Gringott’s has been tolerated for so long is that goblins do a better job than wizards could, and that they’re not actually able to be bribed. They don’t care what happens outside Gringott’s as long as the money keeps coming in. Their impartiality has protected them for a very long time “ and when the Prophet decided to attack that impartiality, their biggest defence…”
“The goblins have decided that the best defence is offence,” Harry finished. “But surely if the Prophet makes an apology…”
“I am afraid to say, Harry, that it is unlikely that the wizarding world will accept the necessity of an apology to what is seen as a lesser species,” said Dumbledore, in a heavy tone. “They will no more support the idea of coming to terms with the goblins now than they would support freeing all the house-elves and setting them up with annuities for life, by way of apology “ the wishes of Miss Granger notwithstanding. The words of the Prophet, especially over the past few months, will not easily be forgotten. And that means trouble for Gringott’s. Voldemort has made people angry and afraid, but his present methods make it difficult for forces to be mobilised against him. People will be looking to fight, and the goblins have just given them a target. ”
“I’d like to see them try to take down Gringott’s,” said Bill wolfishly. “Especially headquarters, in Diagon Alley. If your Ministry wants to send every Auror it has to beat down the doors, you will still have one hell of a fight on your hands.”
“They are your Ministry as well, William,” said Dumbledore suddenly, sternly. “You may be one of the more accomplished curse-breakers at Gringott’s, but do you so relish the idea of fighting Aurors? Some of those people are your friends “ I believe you went to Hogwarts at the same time as Nymphadora Tonks, for instance. If the Ministry sends her to break down those doors, will you be on the other side?”
“I don’t want to be,” said Bill steadily. “And I hope it doesn’t come to that. But Gringott’s have been good to me, and I know goblins far better than most people. I’m not going to abandon them now.”
“The Ministry is not the only one at fault in this situation,” Dumbledore pointed out quietly. “The goblins must take responsibility for their own actions.”
“And you would have me prove this point to them by taking the Ministry’s side? By proving to them that yet another wizard has put blood loyalty above all else, above friendship? Gringott’s have been good to me “ they deserve my loyalty as well.” Bill leaned forward, biting off each word. “There are no good endings here, Albus. Neither side is going to back down, both have their own survival at stake.”
Harry had been watching them argue, feeling a quiet horror build up inside him. The thought that he had provoked this situation with his ill-thought out letter was unbearable. No matter Bill’s reassurances that this would have happened anyway, he could not but feel as if he was partly to blame. And he could not help but see how Voldemort would be able to take advantage of a war between the wizarding world and the goblins. He remembered little enough of Professor Binns’ History of Magic classes, but he did remember that no goblin army had ever been easily defeated “ even by other goblins.
“What about Voldemort?” he said desperately. “If Gringott’s and the Ministry can’t find a way to get along, Voldemort will wait until they’ve nearly destroyed each other and come and finish the job!”
“At this point the goblins wonder if there is that much difference between them,” said Bill. “Even in the First War, Voldemort never targeted Gringott’s.”
“Only because he didn’t get around to it,” Dumbledore pointed out. “Do not believe that he would spare the goblins if he had the opportunity to enslave them.”
“I see,” said Bill. “Be conquered now, or be conquered later, is that it? The problem with that is that it’s conquering all the same “ and like everyone else, the goblins would put that off as long as possible. I expect that many of them hope that if this new war happens, Voldemort will be drawn out by the weakness of the wizarding world. He will attack them long before he comes to Gringott’s.”
“And the goblins believe that he will be sufficiently weakened thereby?” asked Dumbledore. “That they will be able to match him then? That is a rather desperate strategy, William, if I do say so myself.”
“They believe - many of them do, anyway “ that it’s all the strategy they have left,” said Bill. He leaned back, wiping his hand over his face in an effort to combat exhaustion. He looked at Dumbledore candidly. “I don’t want to fight with you, Headmaster. But I don’t think that you’ll be able to change any minds on this one. The most that we can do is work to put off things until later “ try to prevent another war from starting for as long as we still can.”
At that moment a chime rang within the office, and Dumbledore sighed. “Speak of the devil,” he said, looking for a moment as tired as Bill. “It appears the Wizengamot is being summoned. Hardly surprising, under the circumstances. Things are moving fast, too fast, and I am old.” He moved stiffly to the fireplace, taking a handful of Floo powder from a jar on the mantelpiece. He looked at it meditatively for a moment, and then looked at Bill. Throwing it in the fire, he said clearly “Gringott’s Bank, Diagon Alley.”
For an instant the fire flared green, then suddenly turned a brilliant red. A bored voice boomed from the fireplace: “This service has been disconnected. Please contact the Floo Board for more details. I repeat, this service has been disconnected.” As the voice finished, the flames disappeared with a large puff.
Dumbledore looked over at Bill somewhat wryly. “You always were one of our best students,” he said. He threw another handful of powder into the fireplace, and directed it to the Ministry of Magic. As the flames turned green, he turned to Bill, extending his hand. Bill shook it, and the two men looked gravely at each other. “Goodbye, William,” said Dumbledore. “I am afraid that you will have to see yourself out. Take care, my boy. I will do what I can.”
For a moment, Harry thought he heard a tremble in Bill Weasley’s voice “ but it was only for a moment, and then it was gone. “Take care, Headmaster,” he said. “I hope that when we next meet it will be under better circumstances.” And with a nod at Harry, Dumbledore stepped into the fire and disappeared. Bill stared at the empty grate for a few moments, and Harry felt too uncomfortable to interrupt him, even though he was burning with questions.
At last he said, with some sympathy, “D’you want me to go and find Ron and Ginny? I’m sure they’d like to see you.”
Bill shook his head slightly as if awakening from a daze. “No,” he said, a trifle sadly. “No. I’d like to see them, but there isn’t time. I have to get back to the bank.”
“How are you going to get there?” Harry asked. “Without the fireplace. You could make a portkey.”
“I was never particularly good at that,” Bill smiled faintly. “I think I’ll just walk to the edge of the grounds and apparate out. I could use the fresh air. It might help wake me up.”
“I’ll come with you,” said Harry, hoping to get a chance to ask some more personal questions, that he hadn’t felt able to ask when Bill and Dumbledore had been having their rather intense discussion. The two of them walked silently out of Hogwarts (with more girls goggling at Bill), and across the grounds. Dusk had fallen, and the air was cool and quiet. Harry thought he saw a figure flying in the distance, circling the Quidditch pitch. Something about it looked familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
“Bill,” he said, “If the wizards and the goblins hate each other so much, why have they waited until now to do anything about it?”
Bill shot him a slightly amused look. “Professor Binns is the most boring person alive, isn’t he?” he said. “Well, not alive, but you know what I mean.”
“I suppose so,” said Harry, “but what does that… oh. You mean they haven’t waited until now.” He flushed slightly. “I’m afraid I didn’t pay much attention in History of Magic.”
“Not many people ever do,” said Bill. “Although to be fair there was nothing major for you to pick up. There have been spats over the centuries, but things always tend to settle down in the end. Reason being, wizards and goblins are fairly evenly matched. At least, as matched as they can be without giving the goblins wands, which the Ministry prevents. They don’t allow any non-human creature to have them, you know.”
“I do know,” said Harry, thinking back to all the times Hermione had lectured him on the subject.
“But now…” Bill trailed off. “Things have been coming to a head for a while. And right now, both the wizards and the goblins see Voldemort as a way to get to the other. To the wizards, he is the excuse they need to rein in the power of the goblins. To the goblins, the possibility of a civil war within the wizard community offers them a way to strengthen their own position.”
“The centaurs said the same thing, you know,” Harry commented, and Bill’s head whipped towards him suddenly.
“How do you know that?” he said.
“Firenze told me,” said Harry. “He said that the best outcome for the centaurs would be if the wizards just killed each other off, and left the centaurs alone. Yeah, I know,” he said, catching sight of the sudden interest on Bill’s face. “It was a shock to me too. Do you know much about the centaurs?”
Bill shook his head. “The goblins and the centaurs don’t have much to do with each other. The centaurs have no use for gold, you see, so the two species don’t interact very much.” He had a pensive look on his face, as if he were pondering some new
idea.
Harry hesitated. He desperately wanted to know something, but it was rather awkward to ask. He didn’t want to seem selfish when the situation was clearly so dire, but they were very close to the edge of Hogwarts’ grounds, and he didn’t have much time to beat about the bush. Subtlety had never been his strong point anyway.
“Do they blame me?” he said abruptly. “The goblins, I mean. I don’t want… when Griphook came here, I thought we were beginning to understand one another. I don’t understand most of what is going on here, and I don’t know where it’s going. But the goblins… I don’t want to be their enemy. This thing the wizarding world has, with the house-elves and centaurs and goblins. It’s not right. I don’t know how to change it, and I don’t even think I can, but “ I’d like to. Will you tell them that for me?”
Bill stopped. “No further, Harry. You cannot leave school grounds; I’ll go the rest of the way alone. It’s only a few steps. And yes, I’ll tell them. I don’t know what good it will do “ between you and me, there are different factions within the goblins. Just like with the wizards. They don’t all think the same. There is some interest in you “ I was told to make sure that you were in the room when I spoke with Dumbledore, so that you would know from the source what was going on. Not everyone is so willing, however. It may be harder than you think.”
“I understand,” said Harry. “I’d gathered that much from Griphook, anyway.”
Bill raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised for the second time in a few minutes. “That must have been one interesting visit.” He reached out his hand, and Harry shook it. Bill held onto it tightly. “D’you still have those things I gave you? The bracelet for Ginny, and Ron’s Quidditch figure?” At Harry’s nod, he went on. “Give them those. Tell them… tell them I don’t know when I’ll be able to see them again. It might be a long time. Tell them that no matter what they hear, I love them and don’t forget them. And that if worst comes to worst, that I’m sure they’ll grow up fine.” He let go of Harry’s hand, and Harry looked at him, aghast.
“Where will you be?” he said. “Why can’t you tell them yourself?”
“I don’t know how much more freedom I’ll have to tell them anything,” said Bill. “I’ll try and send letters, if the Ministry doesn’t start checking over the owl posts.” He tried to smile at Harry, and his face looked pale and unhappy in the moonlight. “It probably won’t come to anything. Wheels of diplomacy and all “ they may be squeaky, but they’ve got to be good for something, right? I’m sorry, Harry. I don’t mean to scare you, but I’ve got to go. I don’t know much time there is left “ it may be months, but it may only be a few minutes. I can’t take the chance. I may never get in otherwise.”
He moved quickly passed the boundary, and Harry could not follow him. “Where are you going!” he cried again, more desperately.
“I’m going to my friends,” said Bill. “I’m going to Gringott’s, to stand behind the doors. I’m going to wait for those Aurors.”
And he disapparated.