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Advances	By : SickPuppy Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Snape Views: 11340 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the Potter universe belong to JK Rowling. I am making no money from this.

Chapter List
- 16
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CH17 AN: To celebrate the return of Orion to my house (I am so relieved I could, and probably will, cry), here's the next chapter...
Percyplusoliver – nice to have you along. I'm loving your story! I'm glad you thought it was unexpected. I do so hate to be predictable!
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Chapter 17 – Should I Get Ready To Play?
The first shock of seeing Dobby had worn off and they had had a little time to talk to him and find out more about the mysterious Aberforth. Of course, as Dobby had spoken, Harry had recalled Dumbledore – his Dumbledore – mentioning a brother who lived in Hogsmeade. At the time the youth had felt awkward asking questions, now though, faced with the elf sent by Aberforth, Harry pelted out queries.
Most of the answers Dobby didn't know and merely apologised for disappointing the werewolf. But he had helped when they had said they needed to get an item. He had offered at once to just zip off and grab it.
“Can we do that – just send Dobby into the vault and tell him to bring back the cup?” Harry asked, eyes wide.
The witch shrugged. She didn't particularly want to put the elf into such danger, but as he wanted to help and, if he could just pop in and back out, it seemed to make sense to at least try.
“We should ask Griphook,” the black haired wizard decided.
And so the three went inside, past a muttering Fleur (luckily it was in French so they had no idea of exactly what had her so riled up), and up to the room Griphook was using.
The goblin was walking slowly around the room, clutching at his legs every few steps and rubbing the sore flesh. He flicked his head in their direction when they appeared in the doorway, but made no overture of welcome. Instead he continued pacing, grumbling about the soreness of his legs until finally Hermione cleared her throat and said his name.
“What do you want now?” he grunted. “More vaults you want to plunder?” he saw the small house elf and sneered at it. The damned subservient creatures had always irritated him. Their kowtowing and their “Yes, masters” always got up his nose. And with a nose as large as his, it was quite the annoyance.
“Can house elves get into the vaults, even if they're closed?” Harry asked, getting right to the point. If not, they would have to revert back to plan … oh, whatever letter they were up to in their various schemes.
“Of course not!” Griphook snapped. “The vaults would hardly be safe if creatures like him could just pop in and out as they wished!”
“Oh,” Harry looked crestfallen. “Well, never mind, then,” he turned away.
Ron held out his arm, blocking the other wizard's retreat. “Hang on, goblin magic works differently to ours, and house elf magic is different again. Bill works for Gringotts, or did, and he's told me about spells they've been unable to break because they were cast by other magical creatures. You're saying you can really stop elves getting in?” His face was sceptical.
“Fine,” Griphook sighed, “we always tell you lot that elves can't get in or out, but in reality, yes, they can. However,” he stressed the word, “elves can only take that which does not truly belong to the vault's owner – so it is pointless in many cases sending them in to steal. And they can only get into a vault if they know it's specific location in the bank. And only us goblins know that.”
“But,” Harry said slowly, trying to hide his growing excitement, “you could tell Dobby exactly where the vault is and then he could get in and get the cup.”
“I will not help you steal. I may no longer be a Gringotts goblin, but I will not turn my back on my kind and side with yours.”
“You think You-Know-Who cares about the goblins not siding against him? He'll treat you like filth! He treats other humans like filth; you seriously think he's going to respect your neutrality?!” Hermione jeered, her eyes showing her contempt for the being before them.
“I will not steal.”
“Not even,” Harry said calmly, stopping Hermione before she could make a heated response, “if the item had been stolen previously?” He saw the dark eyes narrow and waited until Griphook had sat down before explaining, “The Dark Lord took the cup from a witch when he was still mostly human. He killed the witch and blamed a house elf for the murder. A house elf, Griphook. That's how little he thinks of others.
“I don't know, any more, who should have the item. Her relatives all seemed pretty unpleasant, but that doesn't mean they shouldn't have inherited the cup. But now it's been perverted, and turned into something foul. But if, with your help and Dobby's help, we can destroy it, think about the difference that will make in the future. Think about one day, once this all behind us, being recognised as having helped.”
Harry could see Griphook was tempted; however, it wasn't enough. “I want the sword,” he declared.
Frustration bubbled out of Harry and his eyes glowed yellow. Gritting his teeth he swung around, “Come on,” he called behind him, “let's do this without him.”
Wisely refraining from asking “how?” in front of the goblin, the three humans and Dobby went dejectedly down the stairs.
“Dobby,” Harry began once they were back outside, an idea having occurred to him, “did you ever go into the Malfoy vault?”
The elf nodded, large ears wobbling. “Oh yes, Harry Potter. Yes, m-master sometimes told me to fetch things.”
“How does that help us?” Ron asked, “the damned cup isn't in the Malfoy vault.”
“No,” Harry agreed, “it's in the Lestrange one. But the Malfoy vault, and the Lestrange one, probably have links to the Black vault.”
“Why would they?” Ron asked, showing himself to be particularly moronic.
“Narcissa and Bellatrix are both Blacks by birth. When they got married I bet some stuff got transferred from the Black vault.”
“Again, so how does that help us?”
Harry sighed. “Because I own the Black vault, you prat! And if I can get copies of the records, which I should be able to do quite legally, maybe somewhere in there it will have details of those transactions and the vaults' numbers.”
Ron jumped as though he'd been stung. “Fucking hell, Harry, that's genius!”
Feeling rather pleased with himself, Harry tried not to look too smug. Hermione spoke, “When you inherited the vault, did you get any paperwork?”
“Yes,” Harry admitted. “It's at Grimmauld Place somewhere. Kreacher would have tidied it away for me.” Since being unable to return to his house he had avoided calling for his elf, thinking that maybe there was some way for the creature to be tracked. But now, this was too important. Raising his voice he called, “Kreacher?”
There was a crack! and suddenly a second house elf was standing by them. “Master?” he queried, eyes narrowing suspiciously on Dobby. Harry felt relief wash over him, clearly Voldemort and his followers had disregarded the house elf. Their mistake.
“Kreacher, can you get me the paperwork that goes with the Black vault?” Harry asked. “It was sent to me after Sirius died.”
Eyes glaring at Dobby, the older elf asked, voice croaky, “Master needs the records?”
“Yes, Kreacher. I want to be able to find the Lestrange vault.”
And then Kreacher surprised them. “Kreacher has been into the Lestrange vault. Mistress told Kreacher to put the antique Goblin-made tea service in there after Miss Bellatrix married.”
Feeling weak, Harry panted, “You've been into the Lestrange vault?”
“Oh yes, Master. Is Master wanting Kreacher to fetch him something?”
“Yes,” Harry breathed, hardly daring to believe it was going to be so easy, “yes, Kreacher.”
***
After talking over what needed to happen, and exactly what Kreacher was looking for, it was agreed that both elves would go into the vault. Dobby would go in the elf version of side-along apparition as it was felt that two pairs of eyes would be better than one.
None of the humans had felt the need to tell Griphook of their plans, just in case some last spark of loyalty to the bank made him warn them.
They now had a tense wait.
***
Dobby and Kreacher arrived in the vault and at once a klaxon could be heard. It was loud and sudden and seemed to be coming from directly outside the door. Dobby covered his ears and looked scared, but Kreacher, whose hearing had perhaps diminished over the years, merely glared at the younger elf and began scouring the vault. The first time he brushed against a galleon and it duplicated, he cried out in pain at the burning sensation on his wrinkled skin.
Kreacher jumped back, knocking into a golden candlestick and it too duplicated, toppling over and leaving a long black scorch mark diagonally on his tea-towel. The ragged material split, hanging loosely around his skinny frame, swinging a little wildly, brushing against items as he moved and looked.
Dobby cried out as he too knocked into something and felt searing heat on his thin arms. He backed away and pressed against the stone wall, rubbing at his reddened limb.
“Find the cup,” Kreacher croaked over the alarm and what sounded like roaring.
Dobby nodded and tried to find somewhere to stand that wouldn't cause a problem, but which would allow him to see as much as possible. Kreacher was doing the same, but it was no good; there simply wasn't space to stand and search. Each time they bumped an item it doubled. And of course, the more the vault filled, the more likely it was that they'd touch something.
Both covered in angry looking burns, the elves clambered the piles of items, crying out again and again, but not giving up. Especially as outside the vault could be heard clanking, alarms, roaring, and the voices of goblins. All getting louder.
“There!” Kreacher said, one thin arm pointing wavering. His voice sounded pained, but he continued to struggle over the doubling gold to reach the cup.
Dobby, standing on a small rock shelf, leaned over, wobbled dangerously, and scooped the goblet into his arms. He wavered for a long moment, and then crashed into the churning mass of items, screaming.
The door to the vault burst open and the gold poured out. It flowed like a river of sunlight out onto the ledge next to the track used to access these vaults. There were sounds of screaming; the goblins who had been standing in the way were swept away and over the ledge to fall to the ground far below.
The dark tunnels blazed with the reflected light of all the gold items piling out of the vault and tinkling onto the stone far below. On one side of the stack of gold goblins were crowded in, armed with strange items and glaring at the chaos caused by the two elves. Noise blared all around them as the bank's alarms shrieked and rang out, distorted by the outcroppings of rock.
If it had only been goblins and alarms they would have been all right, but the roaring they had heard had come from a dragon. A dragon that was even now snorting and shooting flame at the heaping mass of gold as it approached, the goblins standing well clear of it on the far side of the pile. Its roars echoed painfully. Long claws clicked as it scratched the stone work, sparks flitting into existence for brief moments with each step. Its tail waved wildly from side to side, hitting the ledge on the other side of the tracks. Its eyes glowed red and malevolent.
Dobby had been swept out with the contents and was clinging to the cup, eyes wide with fear and anguish. There was no cover for him, tottering as he was close to the edge, staring down into the abyss. His knees knocked together and his breath came in hitches. The dragon drew in a huge lungful of breath, smelling the small elf, and turned so that both nostrils were aimed at the creature. Its tongue flicked out and licked Dobby, who moaned at the red hot muscle slicking over his already tortured skin.
Kreacher dived out of the vault, snagged Dobby and the cup and began to vanish. As he did, he felt the heat of the dragon wash over him and nearly destroy him. It flamed around them both for the brief time it took for them to disapparate; an eternal moment of fire and pain and death. He cowered behind Dobby's body. And then it was gone and they were feeling the sea-filled air.
Whimpering, he landed back at Shell Cottage, staggered, and collapsed.
“Kreacher?!” Harry cried out, seeing his servant. “DOBBY!” he shrieked as the elf swayed, his eyes rolled up into his head, and he crumpled to the ground.
Dobby was dead.
***
At Gringotts, Griphook stood in the entrance hall and tried to get one of his former colleagues to pay attention to him. But it was no good. They sneered at the other creature and made it clear he had no place at the bank.
“But, Potter!” he yelled, “Potter is planning something with the Lestrange vault!”
He heard the alarm going off and knew it was too late; knew Harry had attacked the bank and was possibly, even at that very moment, stealing the cup.
Most of the goblins ignored him, rushing towards the sound of the alarm. One, however, skidded to a stop and glared at him. “You knew of this and only tell us now?” He eyed the two goblins by the door, “Seal that and take this traitor away!” He glowered, “You dare betray us, Griphook? Betray Gringotts and betray your own kind? We'll show you what happens to filthy traitors like you!”
“No! I didn't betray you! He had a Goblin-made sword and refused to give it to me!”
At this the other goblin looked revolted. “You would have sold out your kind for an item?” The two larger body guards held Griphook tightly. “Put him into the cage. I must alert the Dark Lord of what has happened. I am sure he will want to speak to you, Griphook.”
Griphook screamed as he was dragged away, his heels digging into the stone to try and stop the two much stronger goblins from taking him where they had been ordered to. He was doomed to fail.
And when Voldemort learned of the break-in, and learned that a goblin had known and not said anything, his anger was terrible to behold.
Griphook died, cursing Harry Potter's name and begging for mercy he knew would not come.
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CH18 Preview: “Nice task was it?” Aberforth asked sarcastically. “Easy to do; something three barely legal witches and wizards could accomplish?” He saw the looks on their faces, “Of course not. Albus was all about grand gestures and sod the consequences.” His gaze lifted to the portrait above the fireplace. “And people get hurt.”
“You can't help us?”
“I don't know anything. In case it wasn't blindingly obvious, I didn't exactly get on with Albus. And you're all doing a great job of pretending not to know, but you must by now.”
“Erm...”
“Goats' balls! Have I actually met the only three people who haven't read that awful Skeeter book?!”
“We've been busy!” Harry defended.
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CH17 AN: To remind you, I did say at the start that very few character deaths would change! I always intended to kill Dobby. I'm one of the few people who didn't tear up when he died (in the book nor in the film). When Snape did I cried like a baby! Part of my notes for this chapter read: 1^st May – Gringotts break in. Get the Hufflepuff cup. During the skirmish, Harry calls on the mirror for help. Dobby appears. He is eaten by the dragon (lol). Griphook betrays them. Dies. The plan was to have him eaten like Dragon eats Farquard in Shrek. Can't have everything. Book_addict_89, sorry! SP
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