Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Returning to Sanity	By : AchillesTheGeek Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 31212 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter books or films, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 58
- 59
- 60
59 Returning to Gringotts
Robin Banks had a fun afternoon off watching Ginny playing Quidditch. The Holyhead Harpies were now inviting her to play with them three times a week, and Robin was quietly confident that they would make her an offer of a position sometime soon. Just exactly how they would square that with Ginny returning to Hogwarts remained to be seen, of course; but Robin wasn't particularly worried about that. He had been brought up to believe that the logistics would fall into place if you followed your passion. Certainly, that idea had worked for his father; his passion for German culture and obscure branches of Teutonic wand lore had led him to his present position as the British Ambassador to the Bundesministerium der Magie, the German Ministry of Magic.
He turned his attention back to the game. There was no doubt at all that Quidditch was Ginny's passion. You could see it in the obvious delight in her eyes as she swooped around the pitch. You could see it in the reckless way she would shoot after the snitch as soon as she saw it. And you could see it in her flushed face and dancing eyes when she landed after a match. And how, still breathless and panting, she would rush to discuss the game, point out errors, congratulate team-mates for good play. It was obvious that her excitement was infectious; the whole team came off the ground chatting and laughing.
"Captain material, that one," a voice said beside him. He turned to see the Harpies' manager beside him. He nodded. He knew very little about Quidditch, but he knew a very great deal about people, and Ginny was clearly a born leader. And he was glad for her sake that the manager thought so too. It could only be good for her career.
He smiled. Ginny was playing the sport she loved, he was doing a job he loved, and they had each other to love.
Life was good.

Thursday 23 July
As he returned from McGonagall's office to the little office he shared with Toby Proudfoot, it was hard to keep the feeling he had had the afternoon before.
He had thought he had everything under control at Hogwarts. He was certain that his suspect was the right one; and he had taken steps to neutralise her as a threat. But now he knew that he had not been clever enough. He had thought everyone was well protected; and Hermione had been got at.
"Buck up, son!" Proudfoot said as he saw Robin's expression as the younger Auror came through the door.
"How?" Robin replied. "I stuffed up."
"Not really," Proudfoot replied. "You've roped these guys in, they all know the score; and you can't wade in and arrest the perpetrator without cast-iron evidence, which you don't have yet. No, I'd say you've done as well as could be expected. She got past your guard, and that doesn't make you feel good, but there's nothing you could have done, not really. That comes down to luck. The good thing is that George found the candle, and our villain hasn't been alerted to it."
"I suppose you're right," Robin replied morosely.
"Of course I'm right. Now, pop along to the Great Hall, you'll be in time for breakfast, and I'm sure they'll all be glad to see you."

As Proudfoot had predicted, everyone was happy to see Robin; indeed, his arrival was overshadowed by George, who had stayed the night, it seemed, and was still handing out free samples of the latest Weasleys product, called Transfi-GUM-ation; chewing gum that gave you just a hint of an animal form: cat's ears, perhaps, or a rat's nose and whiskers. The girls from Beauxbatons were evidently enjoying the gum immensely, judging by the sheer volume of their shrieks.
Under cover of the noise, Robin slipped quietly in a seat next to Harry and across from Hermione. He looked at her with a very penitent expression.
"I heard about yesterday's business from the Headmistress," he said very softly to Hermione. "I'm sorry."
"That's all right," Hermione reassured him with a bright smile. "We found the problem and it's all good now."
"Yes, but you shouldn't have had the problem in the first place," Robin replied.
"Nonsense," said Hermione. But she could see they were beginning to attract attention, so she hurriedly hissed, "talk to Harry next period, we'll be at Arithmancy."
Robin, accepting that there was a need for confidentiality, nodded.
"Hey Professor Banks!" a voice said from up the table. "Are you here to spy on us?"
"No," the Auror laughed. "I just missed you all yesterday afternoon and had to check everyone was all right."
This brought a round of laughter; under cover of the mirth, Robin said softly to Harry, "come and see me after breakfast, all right?" When Harry nodded in reply, Robin got up and sauntered over to the teachers' table.

Harry waited until everyone had gone to Arithmancy before he walked to the Aurors' office and knocked quietly on the door.
"Come in!" a voice said – Toby's, he decided.
He walked in to find the two Aurors poring over a map of the Midlands.
"Hello," he said, "you wanted to speak to me, Robin?"
Robin turned and looked at him contritely.
"Oh Harry," he said, "I'm sorry you got caught up in the business yesterday. Is there anything I need to know to make things right?"
"I don't think so," Harry said. "No-one blames you, if that's what you mean. After all, you didn't place the candle there; and it's been there for a while, I think, so probably before you knew there was anything to be wary of."
"Yes, but it's still a nasty artefact, Harry. I should have spotted it."
"Ron said George told him the original scented oils of the candle had been transfigured into marigold and hyacinth," Harry replied, "so when it came into the castle it wouldn't have been nasty."
"Did he now?" Proudfoot replied. "We hadn't considered that. How did he come to find that out, I wonder?"
"I think he cast an Aparecium charm," Harry replied.
"Well," said Robin, who had brightened considerably, "let's try it, shall we?"
Robin did so immediately, and once again spidery lines appeared, winding around the candle.
"Bingo," Proudfoot said softly.
"Indeed," Robin replied. "No wonder we missed it."
Then, noting Harry's puzzled expression, he went on to explain, "this is a classy piece of work, Harry. Whoever did this is very good at Transfiguration, and also wanted to hide the work. You see how the lines are slightly curved? That would repel a good many revealing charms. It's hard to hide things from Aparecium, though, unless you're an expert at charms."
"So… whoever did this is brilliant at Transfiguration and quite good at Charms, but not brilliant, is that what you're saying?"
The two Aurors nodded.
"And that would be …"
They nodded again.
"Right," said Harry. "OK then. So, are we good?"
"Oh, yes, if you forgive me," Robin replied.
"Nothing to forgive," Harry replied as he rose to leave. "Oh, there is something else," he remembered, and sat down again. "This afternoon, Ron, Hermione, Draco and I are going to Gringotts. Some sort of award ceremony; then Bill wants to show us something. Are you aware of that?"
Robin's brow darkened. "I knew about Bill," he replied, "but not the award. I thought something else was happening?"
But Harry looked mystified, so he waved it off.
"Must have been mistaken. Look, if you're leaving Hogwarts, you should have an Auror guard you. Who do you want?"
"You, of course," Harry said immediately. Robin smiled, touched by the straightforward trust Harry still showed.
"All right," he said, and turned to Toby. "Are you OK to man the fort here?"
"No problem," said Toby.

In the event, the Headmistress went with them too, so it was a party of six which arrived at Gringotts just before half past one. They were met by Bill, and a goblin who introduced himself as Raredd; Harry could tell, from the subtle signals people give in such situations, that Raredd was Bill's boss, and was careful to show appropriate politeness. Not that it mattered a jot; Raredd took them straight into the bank and they found themselves being ushered into the office of Primak, the Chief Goblin.
The room they entered was enormous; the entire ground floor of 4 Privat Drive would have fitted into it comfortably, Harry thought. Though perhaps that was partly an illusion caused by the fact that the room was almost empty. The room was paneled in dark timber paneling up to the height of a goblin; above that, the walls were painted in a dark green. There was a line of crystal chandeliers in the room, which gave off a light tinted with golden hues which seemed to sweep across the green in strange and ever-changing patterns. The effect was mesmerising; Harry felt that if this were his office, he would spend the whole day watching the play of the lights on the walls.
In the exact middle of the room was a desk, roughly the size of a double bed; in front of it were ranged three chairs, and behind it, sitting on a dragon-hide swivel chair, was the oldest goblin that Harry had ever seen. He was so obviously the Head Goblin that any introduction was clearly regarded as superfluous.
Primak, Head Goblin of Gringotts, opened his mouth to speak.
"I had not expected so large a party," he grizzled, as extra chairs were fetched for them.
Harry was watching the others and saw McGonagall's face twitch. As he saw that, it occurred to him that this was a set-up; the goblins knew precisely how many people were in their party, and would have had time to fetch chairs as they were being shown to the office. Primak was obviously trying to make some goblin point; but it was too subtle for Harry.
But McGonagall knew pretty well what the goblins were up to. "I'm glad to see the goblins are as warmly welcoming as ever," she said, very drily. "You will understand that Mr Potter isn't likely to go anywhere without Mr Malfoy, as he is legally responsible for him; and the Ministry wants Harry protected, so Robin is here; and I am here because, as Miss Granger, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley's Headmistress, I am responsible for them during term time.
So, you see, our party is just as large as it needs to be."
The goblin laughed.
"Well met!" he said. "Too often witches and wizards treat us like dirt, so they should not be upset if we return the favour. But you have spoken well. And Mr Potter here has a reputation for being more friendly with goblins than the average. For the rest, we will suspend judgement."
Ron looked like he was about to explode, but Robin touched his arm. He knew the goblins rather well, having been on guard duty around the bank before now; so he knew that this was actually not the put-down that it sounded.
"Thank you for your courtesy," he replied to Primak. "I hope we shall all prove worthy of it, and more, before the day is done."
Primak looked at him keenly for a moment, and then broke into a smile. With his triangular mouth, it was not a pretty sight.
"Auror Banks, isn't it?" he asked, and Robin nodded. "Very well. I have heard of you, too. Good. Now, I know Raredd is keen to take you away and show you some trinket, but we do have the matter of a break-in, followed by a break-out, to deal with."
Harry gulped. Primak's letter had sounded almost kindly, but in the flesh he was quite scary. If this turned ugly, they might need more than one Auror.
But he needn't have worried. The Head Goblin turned to him, Ron, and Hermione, and said, "you broke in to a most ancient vault and stole an article from it, and I should, by rights, be furious about that. But on the other hand, the Lestranges are no more; Bellatrix is dead, the others in Azkaban for life. And that means that we don't have to deal with any complaints from the family."
Primak positively beamed with joy as he said that. Clearly, the goblins did not like dealing with complaints.
"So, as I wrote to you, Mr Potter, we have repaired the damage at the Lestrange's expense; the dark object is gone, so the Ministry can't get upset about it being there; and the dragon is free, and can remain so as far as I am concerned. A happy conclusion, wouldn't you say?"
"Well, yes, I guess," Harry replied, rather mystified that the goblin seemed to want his opinion. And then a thought occurred to him.
"Er, excuse me, sir, but who owns the Lestrange Vault now? As you said, the family is in no position to claim it."
Primak grinned. He was ecstatic that a wizard had called him 'sir' – they were never so polite – and even more so that Harry had grasped the heart of the matter.
"Well, Mr Potter, as you may be aware, the Lestranges were all Death Eaters; so under the Lordship of the self-styled Lord Voldemort. As such, if the line failed, its assets would revert to him."
"But Voldemort is dead!" Ron exclaimed.
"And killed by …" Primak replied, hesitating to see who would get the point.
"Harry," Hermione replied mechanically. "So what?"
"So Voldemort was a lord," Raredd answered.
"But that was just a title he gave himself, surely?" Harry said. "He spelt it out for me – I AM LORD VOLDEMORT is an anagram of his real name, TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE."
"Perhaps," said Primak. "But he did come to see us about titles. As the only surviving member of the Gaunt family, he was entitled to the style of Lord; he chose to continue to use his adopted surname, which we decided to ignore. For a consideration. In formalising his position, he adopted some of the older Articles of Lordship. You may be interested to peruse them. Particularly the Articles of Inheritance at the end."
As he was saying this, a junior goblin produced a sheaf of papers, which were rapidly copied for each of the magicals in the room.
Harry turned to the section. It gave the legal basis for the reversion that Primak had already spoken of, and he started reading that. But Hermione found the section of most interest first.
"So, should Voldemort lose his life by engaging in a duel, his assets are split equally between the winner and all of Voldemort's descendents, if any?"
The goblins all nodded; the inheritance laws were well known to them, as was the conclusion that Hermione reached, as the sickle dropped.
"So the Lestrange vault is Harry's?"
"Exactly!" the goblin replied. "And the title Lord Gaunt. Together with a number of other estates and lordships."
"Er, well I don't think I really need any more money," Harry began, but the goblin stopped him with a look.
"It's not just money, Mr Potter," Primak said. "There are a number of other artefacts of great interest in the vault, together with books, rare potions ingredients, and other sundry items of value."
Draco put his hand on Harry's knee to tell him to shut up. "Exactly what?" he asked.
"Ah yes, Mr Malfoy, you would ask that," Primak said, mostly to himself. A younger goblin handed him a very thick file of papers, which Primak passed over to Harry without further comment.
Harry opened the file. On top was a summary of the major assets of all the accounts he could claim, beginning with the Potter and Black vaults, then the Lestrange account, then the various other Death Eater accounts that he could claim by right of their holder being dead or in Azkaban for life.
Harry closed the file, deep in thought. It occurred to him that the goblins might be insulted by any refusal; and if he accepted the Lestrange accounts, he could accept and thereby legitimise their actions in removing money from them.
"Very well," he said, adopting the rather legal formalisms that his Muggle research had thrown up, "I accept the Lestrange vaults for now, and sanction your actions with regard to your expenses incurred. As for the others, I think we should discuss these accounts in detail later. May I keep this file until then?"
"Yes, yes," Primak replied. "Whenever is convenient. Raredd can go through them with you."
"Thank you," Harry said sincerely as he shrank the papers and placed them in his pocket. The other goblins looked shocked; apparently, taking such summaries of accounts out of the bank and being offered the services of such an important goblin were not routine events.
"Now that that matter is resolved for the moment," Primak said decisively, getting everyone's attention, "we can continue. Would Miss Hermione Granger, Mr Harry Potter, and Mr Ronald Weasley please stand."
The three did so, rather mystified; the goblins all looked rather expectant, and Harry wasn't entirely sure that this was a good thing. But Primak did not give them time to worry.
"You three have broken into a Gringotts vault not your own, faced off against a live dragon, haltered it, and ridden on it, breaking out of Gringotts in the process."
Harry did not like the sound of the way this was going. Surely they'd just dealt with all of this? But Primak had not finished
"And you did these things under attack from bank staff, and while attempting to escape from bank custody."
And then Primak broke into one of his very-much-less-than-reassuring smiles.
"Do you have any idea how jealous we all are of you?"
The three magicals looked at one another, stunned.
"Um, no," Ron replied rather tentatively.
There was a small, awkward, silence, broken by a goblin entering the room.
"All is ready, Master Primak," she said.
"Very good Hardstaff!" said Primak, and then turned to the guests. "Come," he said, and led them all out of a door that was hidden in a little alcove.

After walking down a small corridor, they came out into a large room. They found themselves standing on a balcony that run along one side of the room, the main part of which was about six feet below them. In front of them was a sea of goblin faces. They had been chatting animatedly as the party arrived; but the wizards and witches were amazed to see how, the moment Primak entered the room, every goblin fell silent and looked up at him.
"Greetings fellow goblins! I present to you Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and Ronald Weasley.
"You are all well aware of the effrontery that these three have shown in breaking into Gringotts and stealing a valuable magical artefact. An artefact that should never have been stored at Gringotts, under the contracts of our provision of vaults. And you may have heard that this artefact was a horcrux created by the one we style 'Poletotsmurt'. They have destroyed the horcrux, and together rid the Goblin nation and the Wizarding world of perhaps its greatest foe.
"We, the Goblin nation, stand ready to recognise such bravery. You all know, though our guests do not, that every goblin who manages to tame, and ride, a wild dragon is awarded the extra name Drakonezdach; or, as wizards would say, Dragonrider. The Goblin Council has decided that, as these three rode a dragon on Goblin soil, and in recognition of their efforts on all our behalves, we confer this honour upon them as well."
At these words, the silence of the hall was broken by loud and excited cheering. It was so sudden that Ron flinched slightly at the sound; Harry steadied his friend, but it seemed that only he had noticed.
"And also we name them Goblinfriend."
Another cheer rose up, louder than the first; but it seemed that Ron was inured now, for all three of them stood firm.
"In token of these names, and the honour they carry, we award our new friends commemorative medallions."
So saying, each of the three magicals was given a small golden medallion on a dark green ribbon. It was almost comical to watch the goblin assistant as she placed one around each of their necks; Ron had to practically kneel before she could reach over his head.
It was the headmistress who spoke first when this ceremony was complete.
"Master Primak, goblins, wizards, Hermione" she said, acknowledging all the people in the room, "this is a momentous day. I'm sure that the three recipients won't quite understand that this action is, to the best of my belief, unprecedented."
Primak nodded. "Indeed. This is a Goblin ritual that we have never shared before."
"Then we are very honoured by your kind gifts," Hermione said, with a small curtsey; and with a little jostling from her, the two boys murmured something similar with a bow.
"There is no need for gratitude, Hermione Dragonrider Goblinfriend," Primak replied. "But such as you offer, I accept."
"There may be no need for gratitude," McGonagall replied, "but I hope there is room for a similar action on our part."
At these words, all of the goblins fastened their beady eyes on the headmistress, who calmly hefted a large tartan bag onto her lap. Their eyes grew round in shock – and greed – when from it she withdrew a single object.
A sword.
"I'm sure I don't need to tell you what this is," she said. "Here is one of the treasures of Hogwarts: the Sword of Gryffindor. I understand, though it is not exactly common knowledge, that Mr Potter gave it to Griphook as the price of admission to your vaults. We can argue whether that means that his visit was in fact sanctioned by the goblins or not. But that is not my reason for bringing it here."
"And just why have you brought it here?" Primak asked, licking his lips, which seemed all of a sudden to have become very dry.
McGonagall stood up and held the sword out in horizontally front of her. It shone in the lights of the room, and Harry could see that every goblin's eyes were fastened upon it unblinking. "I understand that you goblins have different views on ownership than we wizards and witches do. A fact that has caused a great deal of friction between us. Therefore, in the spirit of a peace offering, I have brought this sword back into Gringotts, where you believe it belongs."
There were sharp intakes of breath from the wizards and witch behind her.
"No you can't!" Hermione exclaimed.
"Evidently I can, Miss Granger Dragonslayer Goblinfriend; and I am. As for whether I have the right to, as I said I understand that Mr Potter gave it to Griphook. If he had any right to do so, then as Headmistress of Hogwarts I must be considered to have more.
"Since the sword returned to Hogwarts via the Sorting Hat when it was needed, I think we can be confident it will do so again should Hogwarts have need of it. Apart from such times, Master Primak, it is my wish that the sword be displayed here. Rather than be shut up in Hogwarts, where no-one can see it, but you goblins feel robbed, I ask that this sword be displayed openly in the lobby of this bank, so that everyone who enters the bank will see it and know it as a symbol that the Wizarding world and the Goblin nation can work together and have shared treasures without petty jealousies."
Primak looked at her keenly, and then walked up to her. It should have looked ridiculous; McGonagall was a good two feet taller than the goblin. But somehow, whether through age or office, the goblin radiated a dignity that made it impossible to laugh.
"Madam McGonagall," he said slowly, "I am deeply moved by this action. On behalf of the Goblin nation, I accept this treasure and this charge to display it. And for this action, I name you Goblinfriend also."
McGonagall inclined her head in acceptance of this offer.
And with that, it seemed that the ceremony was done; the Head Goblin simply walked out, and his guests, having nothing better to do, followed him. As they re-entered his office, Raredd came over to them.
"Come," he said, "and I will show you the map."

Harry found he liked Raredd's office a lot more than he had Primak's. For a start, it was much lighter; there was no paneling, and the walls were painted a light blue. But more than that, there was no ostentation. The room was filled with tables, and the tables had scrolls and books all over them. There were four or five goblins working at the tables, clearly joking with one another. It was a huge mess. But while Primak's office was mostly for show and imposing customers, Raredd's was clearly a place where people did real work.
Hermione's eyes went round as they entered, and Harry and Ron each had to stifle a guffaw. They could see at a glance that she would have given her eye teeth to read just one of the scrolls.
"Mr Weasley," Raredd said, and both Ron and Bill's heads snapped round. "Mr William Weasley, I mean, not Mr Ronald Weasley Dragonrider Goblinfriend. Mr Weasley, please bring our guests over here."
Bill led them over to a large table. On the table was laid out a large parchment, held down at each corner by precious stone. McGonagall chuckled, and when the others looked at her quizzically, she said, "trust the goblins to use diamonds and rubies worth a king's ransom for paperweights!"
Raredd opened his mouth as though to give a smart reply, but Harry forestalled him.
"So, this is the map Bill and Igor Karkaroff made in Egypt?" he asked.
"Yes," Raredd replied shortly. "Now, as Mr Weasley made the map, I'm sure he can tell you more about it than I can; I will return to my own desk. Once you have finished here, I will answer any further questions." And so saying, the goblin left a rather surprised Bill Weasley to it.
"Wow," Bill said softly. "This is quite an honour; normally Raredd won't let any stranger, not even another goblin, look at anything in here without being watched like a hawk. Right, well, yes, this is the Map of the Worlds. Here you can see the spheres clearly;" and so saying, he went out to point out each of the spheres in turn. For the benefit of those who were not there when he had discussed the map at the Burrow, he explained each sphere in some detail. Naturally, there was not much to be said about the Sphere of Tangible Presence, but Hermione wanted to know exactly the difference between the next two, the Sphere of Intangible Presence and the Sphere of Intangible Extension. Here Bill was able to explain further; Harry gathered that the goblins had done quite a lot of research since Bill had told them about it in June. It seemed that a soul generally moved from Intangible Presence to Intangible Extension once everyone who knew them was dead; though there were ways to expedite the process. As Bill continued, it became clear that a lot of the rituals about the dead were in fact concerned primarily with moving a soul from Presence to Extension.
"You've certainly learned a lot about these two spheres since we spoke," Harry said. "Do you know any more about the Sphere of Intangible Absence?"
"Nope," Bill replied. "We have found a couple more papyri, but they still mostly suggest that the Egyptians believed that people leave the Sphere of Intangible Extension and proceed out of this stage of being into another one. What that other one is is anyone's guess."
"OK," said Hermione, obviously rather miffed not to have a better explanation, but evidently accepting that it was because of lack of knowledge, rather than people fobbing her off as a 'mere student'. "And Harry was on this map?"
"Yes, here," Harry said, pointing to a faint triangle on the map. As he leant over, his finger actually touched the map.
And then it happened.
Just as when Karkaroff had spelled the parchment, the design leapt off the page into three dimensions. Harry recognised the yellowish transparent concentric spheres that Bill had described. His finger seemed to have moved with the display, so he was still pointing at the triangle that they knew represented him. The green, red, and silver designs, woven together, were clearly visible. Harry followed the design out with his finger, crossing into the Sphere of Intangible Presence. As he did so, it felt as if room suddenly became crowded with people; it was strange, because while there was a definite feeling, he couldn't see anyone.
And then there came a white mist, just like the one he had seen when he saw Dumbledore at the King's Cross Station in his mind; and out of the mist came the two people he most wanted to see in all the worlds.
"Mum! Dad!" he all but shouted.
"Son!" he heard, but said oh so softly, hardly more than the stirring of air. And he felt them around him, hugging him, but it was less than a touch, and he knew he was feeling with senses that do not belong to mortals in any normal way.
He had so many questions to ask, so many things to say; but in that moment, he had no words. Somehow, all of his doubts and fears melted away. Without any explanations, without any words at all, he knew that his parents loved him, and were proud of him, and accepted Draco.
And then the moment was gone and his parents faded. His finger had kept moving all the while, and now was in the Sphere of Intangible Extension. He continued on; a moment later, his finger touched a black kite-shaped object that was inside the triangle that evidently represented him.
"It's Voldemort," he said. There was no doubt about it, no doubt whatever. "Except …"
"Except what, Harry?" Bill asked in a soft whisper. Harry could hear the excitement in his voice warring with a desire to keep quiet lest he disturb Harry's concentration and break the spell.
"No, it's all right. I thought there was something missing, like he's not all there; but it's because he made horcruxes, so of course his soul is splintered."
"But he's really dead?" Banks asked.
"Oh yes," Harry said. As he did so, everyone let out a sigh of relief, and Harry felt strong arms around him, and Draco nuzzled him from behind.
"What was going on when you yelled out about your parents?" he asked.
"Did you not feel it?" Harry asked. The others all shook their heads. "Oh," Harry continued, "when my finger entered the Sphere of Intangible Presence, it felt like there were lots of other people in the room. You all really felt nothing?"
The others shook their heads again.
"It must be because you're special, as the Owner of the Deathly Hallows," Draco said. "It is not because you're a freak, all right?"
Harry smiled. "Got it," he said. "All right, so I felt people, but only actually saw two – mum and dad."
"Wow, Harry!" Hermione said, her eyes alight with inquisitiveness. "What were they like? Did they say anything? Did they touch you?"
"Hermione," Ron said gently, "this is kind of Harry's gig."
"Oh," the witch said sheepishly. "Sorry."
"That's OK, 'Mione," Harry replied. "They're good questions though. I saw them but I didn't really see them somehow. I guess you could say they were ghosts – but not even as visible as Nearly Headless Nick or the rest. I knew who they were, but I couldn't call it seeing, not really. And I felt them hug me, but I couldn't really call it touching. They didn't really say anything; but I knew they were proud of me and happy for me; and I knew," he finished, turning to Draco, "that they accepted you as my husband."
Harry then kissed his fiancé.
"All right you two," Bill said at once. "This is a workplace; we don't really do that stuff here."
"In that case," Draco said, "it's time we went somewhere else."

They were taken into a side room for privacy and had a further interview with Raredd. The goblin had not, in fact, done any work at all; as soon as Harry had activated the map, he had felt the magic, and watched the scene with rapt attention. Harry gathered, from the very rapid and excited conversation that Raredd had with Bill, that this was not expected to happen, an impression that Bill confirmed.
"You never cease to amaze, Harry," he said. "What you saw is supposed to be impossible; at least," he continued, his voice becoming thoughtful, "Karkaroff told me when we did the ritual that the Reperiri spell he used was strictly a one-time-only thing. But I guess because you're the Master of Death, it worked for you. Maybe that's why Smetana…" And here Bill trailed off into silence.
"Smetana?" Draco prompted.
"I wonder," Bill said. "Smetana mentioned the map. But only Karkaroff and I know about it."
"Smetana is Karkaroff," Robin said quietly.
"Are you sure?" Hermione asked, a cold edge coming into her voice. She had very little love for the former Durmstrang headmaster; and hearing that he was disguised at Hogwarts while they were busy investigating attacks on students was very suspicious.
"Yes," Robin replied. "I have conducted an interview with him. Don't worry; I'm quite certain he had nothing to do with the attacks on Harry. I suspect that he might have wanted to, at the beginning; but now he has quite a bit of respect for our friend. Anyone who can survive a Flagrante Transfero curse is going to get that from a former Death Eater."
Hermione turned to McGonagall.
"Did you know this, Headmistress?" she asked.
"I did not," said the headmistress, pursing her lips. "I rather think Albus's portrait knew; I'm certain he suspected something."
Ron groaned. "I guess he's still infuriatingly close-lipped then?"
"Quite," said the headmistress. "I shall be having words with him when I return to the Castle. Which I should do presently; the afternoon is all but gone. Is there anything else to discuss, Master Raredd?"
The goblin perked up. Harry half-expected him to be insulted by McGonagall's forthright manner; but he seemed to revel in it. He remembered that goblins liked plain dealing; clearly McGonagall was in tune with them.
Raredd contented himself with explaining that the four Goblinfriends would be welcome to visit Gringotts as guests of honour at any time; he also explained that the honour naturally extended to their spouses, and as such he confirmed that Draco would have the right to the name of Goblinfriend once he and Harry were married. The party then bid farewell, and Raredd offered the use of a Floo connection to McGonagall, an offer which was gratefully accepted.
The rest of the party decided that, since they were in Diagon Alley, they would like to catch up with Fred and George, so decided to make their way to Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. When they got to the lobby they found that the Sword of Gryffindor was already there, housed in a display case in the middle of the room.
"Wow," said Ron, going up to it. Here, in the open space, catching the light, it looked magnificent.
"Amazing," said Harry at the same time.
"Gosh," said Hermione, seeing the rubies sparkle. As she looked closely, she could see their reflections in the polished metal. Subconsciously, she counted them: Ron, Harry, herself, Draco, and … Hang on.
"Where's Robin?" she asked.
"Here I am!" he called, as he came through the arch that led on to Raredd's office. "Sorry, just needed a little word with Bill. Right! Let's go shopping!"

Fred and George were delighted to see them.
"Hey, little brothers," Fred cried, scooping up Ron, Harry and, much to his surprise, Draco into a four-way hug. "What brings you here?"
"Playing truant from school?" George asked, joining in what was now practically a scrum.
"No, no," Robin said, as the others disentangled themselves. "We were invited to Gringotts."
"Wow!" said Fred. "You must tell us all about it."
They went up to the twins' flat, where tea and cakes were produced; to Draco's delight, Molly had been baking, and sent 'her boys' some very delicious lemon tarts, which he and Ron proceeded to eat with gusto while Robin and Hermione explained the afternoon's events, with occasional interjections from Harry
"Blimey," said Fred when they had finished. "You have had a busy day!"
"And how was yours?" Harry asked, mostly to be polite.
"Well, a terrible thing happened before I left Hogwarts this morning," George said, with a very long face.
"What?" Hermione asked.
"We sold out of Transfi-GUM-ation!" Fred said, with a grin.
"An absolute disaster," Draco said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Fred, having looked over to him as he spoke, noticed that they were about to run out of lemon tarts. But of course Draco and Ron were both exercising that particular squeamish politeness that refuses to take the last piece of anything.
"As is this!" he said, swooping over and grabbing the last tart. "We're out of tarts!"
"Oh no!" said George, putting his hand to his forehead in the universal stage gesture of dismay. "Whatever shall we do?"
"Go to dinner at mum's / and cadge some more / of course," they chorused together. "Do you lot want to come?"
"Would Molly mind?" Robin asked.
"Mind?" George replied, looking vaguely scandalised. "She'd be ecstatic!"

It was a very merry gathering at the Burrow that night. Molly had been overjoyed to have them, and insisted that George invite Neville over as well. Kreacher was called, and asked to fetch Neville, which he did with the usual amount of grumbling which they paid as much notice to as ever; namely, none at all. As an afterthought, when the house-elf returned, Harry asked him to fetch some elf wine from Grimmauld Place, and they all ate and drank rather more than was good for them.
"So, what have you guys been up to today?" Neville asked during the meal. "We missed you in potions."
"I bet Ivanov missed us particularly," said Draco, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Actually, I think he did," Neville replied. "He was moping the entire time. I think he likes having people around who really challenge him. Unlike, say, me."
"Hey!" said George. "Don't put yourself down!"
"That's right," said Fred. "We'll happily do that for you."
When the laughter subsided, Neville asked again, and they told him about their visit to Gringotts and the new titles that three of them had. They did not get a chance to tell about the map; when Molly heard that her boy was now a Dragonrider and Goblinfriend, she erupted into congratulations, and Arthur produced some very special sparkling elf wine of his own and insisted on a toast for the three of them. When they had all settled down after the toast, Molly produced a magnificent treacle tart in Harry's honour; and Kreacher reappeared with a Spotted Dick 'for Master Draco and Master Ron Weasley' which the others were only too happy to help him demolish.
Fred and George had brought some of their party hats. Molly hadn't seen them before and was most amused when she put hers on to find that her whistle gave an elephant's trumpet, and her hat produced ears that flapped on the side of her head and a trunk that waved around.
"You boys!" she said, in mock complaint, but her eyes were shining in pride at the endless inventiveness that they displayed.
"Yes mum!" they said, in mock repentance. "Oh, mum, got any more lemon tarts?"
"What happened to the last batch?" she asked.
"We had visitors," Fred replied, indicating the assembled company, particularly Draco and Ron.
"Draco!" she said happily, "you like my tarts?"
"Very much so, thank you, they were delicious," the blond replied.
"Well," said Molly with a smile, "you're in luck; I baked some more."
She waved her wand, and three boxes filled themselves with lemon tarts and came to rest in front of Fred and George, Ron, and Draco.
"Oh!" said Draco, moved by the open generosity, "thank you very much! You didn't have to do that!"
"Pish tush," Molly said, "of course I did. It's my pleasure, young man."
After dinner, there was a general move into the front room to play card games that the twins set up. Molly, however, grabbed Draco by the arm before he could go in.
"Draco," she asked, "can I have a word?"
Mystified, he naturally nodded, and she took them into a little alcove off the kitchen that, by the piles of parchment and bottles of ink and quills was clearly reserved for paperwork.
"Next Friday," she began, and Draco racked his brains.
"Next Friday?" he replied.
"Harry's birthday," she said briskly.
Draco's mouth fell open. His head was in quite a whirl: of course next Friday, the 31st of July, was Harry's birthday. Everyone in the Wizarding World knew that. How had it slipped his mind? But Mrs Weasley was still talking, so he closed his mouth and tuned back in.
"Your mother and I are thinking of organising a party here after school finishes for the week. Is there anything he would particularly want, do you think? Anyone we should invite? Here's a list of what we have planned so far."
As she said this, she handed him a large piece of parchment containing rather a lot of names.
"Um – thank you," Draco said, "can I think about this and get back to you?"
"Of course, dear. Now, you'd better go off with the others or they'll wonder what we're up to."
Draco nodded, thanked Mrs Weasley, and went into the front room, finding that Harry had reserved the seat next to him for him.
It was nine o'clock when they broke up. Ron, Hermione, Harry and Draco returned to Hogwarts; but Robin, after a discreet interval, Flooed to the Ministry instead.
He had another engagement that night.

Rookwood and Barnes apparated into Devil's Crag. The moment they arrived, they dropped into a crouching position, casting detection charms to make sure that the place was deserted. They found nothing. Satisfied, Barnes started erecting wards to keep prying eyes out, while Rookwood began work on the ritual preparations.
He found the flat rock in the centre of the clearing at the top of the crag without any difficulty; even in the low-level twilight, it was unmistakable. He set up the wood for the cauldron, taking care to arrange the different woods in the order specified by the ritual. He was well aware that there was a school of thought that said this was all meaningless, that any source of heat would do; but it seemed to him that if the ritual bothered to specify what to do, then doing it couldn't possibly hurt. And this ritual was extremely detailed about building the fire.
Once the wood was ready, he set up the iron bar tripod to support the cauldron, half-filled it with fresh water from the hidden spring in the crag, and set it to boil. As it was doing so, he made the other preparations: sowing a circle of salt around the rock to ward off any disruptive magic, washing the required fresh herbs, laying out all the ingredients carefully. The water boiled, and he added the ingredients, carefully stirring after each one was added. The instructions were clear, and detailed; but he found the whole thing quite a palaver.
By eleven o'clock, they had completed their work. The cauldron was simmering and would need nothing more for the next two hours but constant tending of the fire underneath it. This was the only duty that Rookwood was prepared to delegate; so he set Barnes to watch and work, while he went round and checked the wards. He found they were generally good; there were a couple that seemed to have slight imperfections, but he fixed them readily enough.
Half an hour later, it was time to fetch Umbridge. The ritual required that she not see any of the preparations, so she had had to stay behind at Spinner's End until everything was in place. Now that they were ready. She could safely be brought to the circle that he had made. This was another task for Barnes; Rookwood wasn't about to leave the other wizard alone with the cauldron, not since all his careful preparation would be for nothing if the man contaminated anything.
As it didn't make any difference what Umbridge wore, Rookwood had suggested simple black robes would make the most sense. But black simply wasn't Dolores Umbridge's style; she appeared wearing pink robes, in a shade and cut that Rookwood felt should be illegal, it was so tasteless. Still, he didn't need her for her fashion sense.
He sat her on the bench he had found for the purpose, bound her eyes as required by the ritual, and placed Circe's circlet on her head, in preparation. He placed the last ingredient, a stick of sandalwood, in the cauldron; instantly, smoke billowed out, exactly as it was supposed to. As it hit the circlet, the latter glowed bright orange, and Rookwood began to intone the spell.

The tall, dark, elegant wizard was sitting in his office about to leave for home when the owl came. The envelope had the emergency mark on it, so he opened it immediately. He read the letter. It was not good news.
Umbridge was supposed to have told him the words to unlock the spell. That way, he could get rid of the two accomplices and engineer the perfect moment to bring her memories back. Or find that blasted box that she had secreted away. He had once been grateful to her for the leg-up she was able to give him into the Department of International Magical Co-operation; but now he knew she was a poisonous toad. Gratitude was long gone, now there was only the fact that unless she stopped it, his secrets would become known in a year's time.
But that musing was getting him nowhere. It seemed that Rookwood was smart enough to see that his life probably depended on her not finding out the secret. No matter. He would go to Devil's Crag himself, and find out by the simple trick of eavesdropping.
A quick Tempus showed him that he had time. He could still make his dinner appointment. The ceremony was to be at midnight; he should make it comfortably. But he would be careful about drinking tonight. He would need a clear head.

He reached the point at which the unlocking phrase was required. It could be anything, really; but it would be best if it were something no-one would ever guess. It was unlikely anyone would think to try the memory unlocking incantation; but if they did, this one phrase needed to be inserted in it. It had to be something no-one would think of.
He thought quickly about Umbridge, about the things he had read. She had taught Potter. Potter… and it came to him.

The dark man crouched in the undergrowth. Umbridge had been right about the wards, so he had not been detected, and had managed to get close.
He listened.
And in amongst the stream of Latin, he heard the phrase.
His lips curled in a predatory smile. A good choice, he thought. But now it was time to slip away.
Slowly, quietly, Anton Rosier got to his feet, walked carefully outside the wards, and apparated home.

The three men crouched unseen in a niche hidden behind one of the rocks of the main ritual circle of Devil's Crag. It had been a brilliant idea to ask Bill about it, Robin thought; the man had known all the secrets. Toby Proudfoot had grizzled that bringing him along was a little unorthodox; but that was Robin Banks all over. And Toby hadn't really kicked up a fuss.
They, too, heard the words, then slunk away, apparating to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the Ministry, where Robin would write a report before snatching a few hours sleep and attending Hogwarts later in the morning.
"Thanks, guys, that was brilliant," Bill said. "Let me know if there's anything I can help with."
"There is one thing," Robin replied. "Why would Rookwood have chosen the phrase 'I must not tell lies'?"

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have set up a thread for replies at http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/56042-review-replies-for-returning-to-sanity/ . Please indicate which chapter you are reading, as aff doesn't make that clear. I will generally try to reply to posts before posting a new chapter.
The story is betaed by the wonderful BickyMonster, http://members.adult-fanfiction.org/profile.php?no=1296919762, with assistance from ruth_lity. The remaining errors are all my own!
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Returning to Sanity