21
When Tom woke him, Harry felt more rested than he ever had before. That didn't mean he wasn't completely disoriented and so groggy it took him a full minute to determine how the Dark Lord had somehow made it into his bed in Gryffindor Tower.
He determined, in the first half a minute, that he was not, in fact, in his bed in Gryffindor Tower, but rather lying on a soft bed of floor pillows in a warm room, toasty with heat from a fire. The second half was spent noticing the warmth against his hip and the arm that angled above him, propping Tom up as the man leaned over him.
When his brain finally processed the red eyes looking into his own, his heart involuntarily skipped a beat and his breath hitched. Saliva stuck in his throat, choking him and resulting in a coughing fit. He turned his head away to avoid hacking in Tom's face. The man leaned back, pulling his arm with him to help Harry in his effort to roll onto his side, then to his knees as the surprise fit passed.
"Sorry." Harry gasped.
"Indeed." Tom said with a raised brow. He snorted softly in what Harry could only assume was amusement. "Come, we need to leave to meet your king."
Tom was on his feet and moving out the doorway to the Room of Requirement that Harry doubted the man heard his mutter of "damned Dark Lords" as he got to his feet and followed reluctantly. The Room of Requirement was quickly becoming his favorite place in the castle and he didn't really want to leave.
He slung the invisibility cloak around his shoulders and stepped as silently as he could, following behind Tom, who was now safely hidden behind his professor guise. It was still early afternoon, but he didn't want to talk to anyone, or to even put in the effort to avoid people. Tom glanced behind him and did a slight double take when all he saw was nothing.
"Carrying that around all the time now, hmm?" He asked quietly, facing front again.
Harry didn't answer. The look of annoyance on Tom's face was worth it.
xXx
Bruzon greeted them at the floo and the goblin's tense posture made Harry's own muscles begin to tighten. There was no hectic rush of goblins this time; the bank seemed as calm and quiet as it normally did. But Harry got the idea that good things weren't happening.
"Harry. Mr. Riddle." Bruzon turned and began walking as soon as Harry got his bearings. "Griphook is awake and well. And although our prisoner is not yet awake, I believe he is healed enough to submit to your method of questioning, Mr. Riddle."
Harry sighed quietly, thankful that his account manager was alright and hoping something would come of this visit. The last hadn't been as fruitful as they'd hoped.
"Show me to him and I shall get to work." Tom's voice sounded dry, as if he were biting back a comment or two, but Harry couldn't read the man's mood. It was moments like this that he sometimes wished the man could walk around without the professor guise. He felt like maybe he'd be able to read him better as Tom Riddle than Professor Vincent Hostes.
Harry focused on the floor as a wave of surprised irritation washed through him. Unwelcome thoughts like that popped into his head often now. Then his reaction to them often disproportionately raged through him. He pushed it down, forcing his breathing to match his footsteps.
He needed time to think. Time to properly accept that his life had completely turned on its fucking head. They were barely a week into his sixth year and already far too much had happened. One moment he was ok, one moment he was angry, then sad, frustrated…He clenched his teeth. Tom had warned him that messing around in his head would make him unstable, but he hadn't quite anticipated the intensity of it. It sometimes felt like he was raw all over again, like when he was just beginning to understand that Sirius was dead and gone.
He felt like he had whiplash from his own brain. It was uncomfortable. But he was learning to control it. He just had to pretend he was back at Privet Drive. He had to be quiet. Had to be good. Or else something bad would happen.
Not the best way to deal with his problems, but if it worked, he'd take it.
xXx
The goblin proved to be useless, despite Tom's valiant efforts to gain information from the prone magical creature. No matter what he did, there wasn't a useful piece of information to be found. The thing's eyes were healed; that wasn't the problem.
The problem was that memories didn't just disappear. A carefully aimed obliviate could hide them. Brain damage could scatter them. But they were always there to be found, if one knew where to look.
And, gods be damned, Tom knew where to look. There was just nothing to find.
He sighed, withdrawing from the goblin's mind, the quiet murmurs of others in the hospital wing bleeding into his awareness.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter." The other injured goblin, Harry's bank manager, had apologized at least five times since waking, and it was beginning to grate on Tom's nerves. Harry's placating tone didn't help his irritation, but each time his words seemed to calm Griphook.
Despite the plethora of apologies, the goblin was unable to provide them with information they didn't already know. He was able to describe the attacker well enough that they could confirm it was a vampire. Pale skin, super-human speed and strength, black clothes and auburn hair, but no good description of facial features. The vampire had been moving too quickly to get a good look. Even the momentary glimpse Griphook had allowed Tom through Legilimency had formed too blurry a recollection to be reliable. The attacker had not spoken, merely burst through the door and pounced. Griphook had been thrown through his desk and that had abruptly ended the memory.
Bruzon stood off to the side, eyes on Tom, ignoring the interaction between the two next to him.
Harry looked to Bruzon, then to Tom as he stepped to their side of the wing.
"Did you get anything off him?" Harry asked.
Tom felt a scowl form on his lips.
"No."
There was quiet.
"No, you didn't find anything? Or no, he didn't know anything?" Bruzon clarified.
"There was nothing to find."
"Shit." Harry cursed, turning around and taking a few steps away from them, arms crossed over his chest. Tom's eyes followed him before returning to the Goblin King. He gestured for them to move the conversation elsewhere. Bruzon nodded and began walking.
Harry trailed them on the way to the King's office. The fact that the young wizard was preoccupied with his own thoughts hadn't escaped Tom. Harry had seemed withdrawn since earlier in the day. But Tom would speak with him later. Now was not the most opportune time.
The privacy charms sealing Bruzon's office were strong. Tom felt them pop into place as he settled into the second chair in front of Bruzon's desk.
"The goblin should have known something. But he doesn't know why he was down there to begin with." Tom huffed.
"I wonder if they were all like that." Harry sighed. "Could they have been Imperioused?"
"A good question, but as hard as it is to determine whether the curse has been used on a wizard, it would be even more difficult to do so with a goblin." Bruzon said. "And even if they were, the Thieves' Downfall would lift such magics of enchantment from any body who moves from the bank's lobby to the vaults."
"Could they have come from another way?" Tom asked. He hadn't seen the security measures of Gringotts in person before, and had his doubts about the efficacy of this Thieves' Downfall. But he wouldn't mind getting a look at it.
"As large as the caverns that house our vaults are, they are regularly inspected and patrolled. Unless…" Bruzon pinched the bridge of his nose, elbows on his desk. He looked like he had already thoroughly pondered the question. "Unless I have a traitor amongst the patrols, I would know if there is a breach."
"Is that why the mood's seemed so tense in here?" Harry's voice nearly squeaked with the suddenness of his question. "Are you investigating to try and find out?"
Tom raised a brow at the young wizard. He had thought nothing of the quiet of the bank. Whenever he'd visited before, aside from in the aftermath of the attack on Griphook and Bruzon, the bank had always been that quiet. He'd noticed nothing different.
"Ah, yes Harry. Although, of course, it is normal after such an attack in the vaults, we haven't had an attack like the one on Griphook during my reign. So of course, my subjects know they will be required to submit to questioning that is more stringent than normal. Specifically, those involved in patrols."
"So we know a vampire broke in somehow. And a group of rogue goblins. And not much else besides." Harry sighed. "Well, Bruzon, I don't think I can help with your investigation, but I did have a favor to ask, if you don't mind."
Bruzon blinked up from his desk and opened a hand towards Harry.
"Of course, Harry. What can I help with?"
Tom settled back in his chair. He was beginning to think of Harry as something else entirely. From what he knew of the boy, he should be a shivering wreck from all his past experiences. Yet here he was, collecting freely given favors from the Goblin King. Harry wasn't in one piece, by any means, but all in all? Tom thought he may have made a very good choice indeed to make an ally out of him.
xXx
After a thorough explanation of Harry's situation and the possible tenuous link tying Dumbledore to the attacks at Gringotts, Bruzon reluctantly agreed to Harry's request to postpone the filing of a claim against Dumbledore. In the face of Harry's explanations and reasoning, he could hardly do otherwise, but it looked like it physically pained him to ignore such a breach of the bank's ethical code.
"I like your idea of favors, Harry, if they are just for me to do nothing. Although I admit it is not in my nature nor the Gringott's custom to ignore theft." Bruzon cracked a slight smile.
"I don't like it much either, but we need to catch him off guard if Dumbledore really is involved. And even if he's not and it's someone else, I wouldn't mind giving him a heart attack when I have a bit more time to enjoy it."
Harry looked over Tom's way. It seemed as though everything important was taken care of, so they should be leaving soon. Tom had been quiet most of the time in the office, not really chiming in during Harry's request to Bruzon. He had a feeling Tom might have some other business to deal with.
"King Bruzon. I must ask a favor of you as well." The tone in which Tom spoke was foreign to Harry's ears, as were the words.
Bruzon looked at him quizzically, waiting for the wizard to speak.
"I am sure you will be far less willing to grant my request. As such, I am willing to leverage my services at a future, unspecified time, with no limitation, so long as it does not run contrary to my cause." Harry stared at the man, but his focus was entirely on Bruzon.
Bruzon's forehead wrinkled in dislike, Harry thought, for what he might be about to hear. "What is this favor Mr. Riddle, that you would so freely offer me such a thing?"
"There is an object in the vaults below us. It is not my own vault, unfortunately, as it would not be safe there. I gave a goblet to one Bellatrix Lestrange for safe keeping. I need it back and am not willing to risk speaking to her; you know she is currently an escapee from Azkaban. I ask that you take us to her vault so that I may retrieve it."
Silence. Harry didn't dare breath. Bruzon's gaze was stormy and Tom seemed poised to weather a storm.
"I see now why you would offer such a limitless favor." Bruzon started. "You know I'm the only one with the power to open a vault without the owner present. And I assume you also know that I would not be willing to do that unless absolutely necessary. How, do you suppose, should I know whether this goblet is yours?"
"Although I'm sure you have your own ways to determine ownership, Harry can vouch for me, if you would take his word."
At this, Harry jumped. He wasn't even sure what this goblet was, let alone that Lestrange was holding it for Tom. What would be so important that he couldn't hide it himself, anyway? And how was Harry supposed to know?
"Tom?" Harry asked slowly, aware of Bruzon's eyes on him now.
"It's Helga Hufflepuff's goblet, Harry." Tom said shortly. He'd obviously been reluctant asking this favor. And now Harry understood why. He'd given fucking Bellatrix Lestrange on of his horcruxes for safe-keeping. And he couldn't trust her yet. So he had to get it without her knowing. It was a good damn thing Harry had saved Bruzon's life. Tom would owe him a favor too after this was all over. He was damn lucky Harry had been listening to the list Tom had given Salazar of the horcruxes he'd made.
"It's here? Damn it." Harry looked back to Bruzon. "It is his, Bruzon. I didn't know he was keeping it here, but it's his, in more ways than one." He tacked the last bit on with a glare at the dark lord beside them.
xXx
The Lestrange vault was huge; bigger than Harry thought it could be. It was filled with treasure; gold, silver, trophies, skins, delicate china, and magnificent weapons. Anything Harry could imagine as a possession of a pureblood and more could be seen in piles on the stone floor or in intricate glass cases. When Harry glanced to his side, he saw Tom and Bruzon glancing around, but they did not seem at all affected by the wealth surrounding them. Harry attempted to school his features to match theirs, but he had a feeling he failed.
"If you see the cup, do not touch it. I had Bellatrix curse it for further protection." Tom said as he strode forward, disappearing further into the vault.
"As if the dragon wasn't enough?" Harry called after him. Bruzon snorted and turned to cover the right side of the vault, skirting a small mountain of galleons. Tom didn't answer him. Harry huffed and looked around. He wasn't quite sure where to begin. The horcrux was meant to be a cup, or a goblet. But there were so many goblets here he wasn't sure how to begin to search for one in particular. Of the three of them, only Tom really knew what it looked like.
He meandered, looking but carefully touching nothing. He nearly tripped over a sword that someone had left lying in the middle of his path. Or maybe it had fallen from the stand of weapons that stood against the stone wall. Either way, it drew his attention to the line of swords, bows, spears, and knives next to him.
He reached out to touch them before his mind caught up with the action. His fingers met the cool metal of a plain knife. A dagger, he thought. He withdrew his hand, looking around him guiltily, but neither Tom nor Bruzon were in sight. Harry turned back to the blade. He had no idea what drew him to it. It was the least gaudy of all the weapons before him. It was plain and no one had cleaned it in ages, but to him, it was the most attractive of all. Maybe because it was scratched and chipped here and there, it seemed as though it was the only weapon there that had actually been used as its maker intended. It wasn't for decoration. He wondered what metal it was made of.
It can't be a modern weapon. Maybe steel. But it's so tarnished. Does that happen to steel? It looks like Aunt Petunia's silver. Harry gasped.
If it was silver, and there were vampires after them, maybe this could be a useful weapon. He looked around. None of the other weapons looked like they could be silver. Only this tiny dagger. He briefly wondered what Bruzon would say if he took this dagger along with the horcrux. Surely, he would frown on the theft.
But Bellatrix has stolen from me. Harry gritted his teeth and placed a hand on the weapon, lifting it from the wooden stand. He looked around. All of the other blades and swords had a sheath. This one should have one too. Directly below the blade at his feet, he saw a leather sheath sticking out from behind the tip of a long sword. He bent to pick it up. Sliding the blade home, he silently wished he had a belt. He pressed the blade against his left hip, wondering how it would feel to have the weight of a weapon hanging there.
As he went to move the blade into the deep pockets of his trousers, leather suddenly sprouted from the sheath, extending out from the belt loop at the top and wrapping around his hips. He only barely managed to avoid screaming aloud. Instead, he jumped and stumbled back, knocking a good portion of the pile of gold behind him down.
Coins and other treasures came down in a clamor, sliding down the mountain of riches; a few hit him on the way down. Harry nearly forgot how to breathe. The leather of the sheath was snug around his waist and he could barely feel the weight of the blade. It wasn't tightening or attempting to squeeze the life out of him, as he thought it might. He realized that it had simply provided what he wanted of it.
A belt.
"Harry?" Tom called. His heart jumped into his throat again.
"Sorry!" Harry replied. "I tripped."
"Come here! I've found it." Tom called again. Harry grinned. No thanks to him, but at least they'd gotten what they came for.
Harry let his cloak fall around him. When he rested his hand over where the dagger should be, he couldn't feel it. When he lifted his cloak again briefly to check, it was still there. Dropping his cloak again, the shape of it disappeared. Ah, the benefits of magic.
By the time Harry found Tom and Bruzon in the maze of gold, Tom had already removed the curse on the goblet and held it in his hands. It wasn't the fanciest thing. Just a short gold cup that had patterns engraved into it. But the point of it was the fact that Helga Hufflepuff had owned it, and it was an important magical artifact.
The horcruxes the man had chosen were really too well known. Tom should have just picked a rock for his horcrux and tossed it into the ocean. It's not like they had helped him when he'd died anyway. He'd just gone on wandering until Pettigrew had helped him with the ritual in the graveyard.
It seemed to Harry that all Tom's horcruxes had helped him do was cause trouble and make him crazy. Although, he allowed, they had most likely allowed the man to survive when the death curse was reflected back at him all those many years ago, if not in the form he would've liked to.
"Good, Harry?" Bruzon asked, splitting his attention from Tom to him and back to the horcrux.
"Yes. That's it, Tom? Can we go?" The vault seemed to be pressing in around him now that they'd found what they were looking for and Harry's sticky fingers had gotten the better of him.
With a preoccupied nod, Tom turned and they left the vault with slow steps. Harry trailed Tom, whose eyes were only for the cup he held in both hands. Bruzon followed them, as if wanting to ensure no one was left behind to frolic among the riches. Harry wouldn't be able to flaunt his new blade anytime soon, but he didn't regret picking up the little dagger.
"Now, if either of you picked anything up besides the goblet, don't forget the threshold will put it right back where you took it from. So long as the goblet it truly yours, Mr. Riddle, it will stay with you."
Harry had a brief moment of panic imagining the threshold to the vault holding him inside the vault until he removed the dagger. But maybe it would hide from the vault the same as it hid from sight. Or recognize that he'd claimed it as his own? Or maybe the dagger would just disappear from his hip, never to be seen in his hands again. Either way, when he stepped smoothly through the door just behind Tom, he breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
He watched as Bruzon's fingers shimmered with a goblin's own special brand of magic, tumblers and locks clicking and moving back into place as the thick slab of metal swung on its hinge.
"Tom," Harry started as soon as the vault's door slammed closed.
Tom didn't answer.
"Tom?"
Still no answer.
Harry snagged Tom's arm and pulled, turning the man back slightly; enough to see that Tom's eyes were strangely vacant. Harry cursed under his breath, glancing between the horcrux and the man's face before knocking the cup from his hands. That finally gained a reaction.
Tom hissed and shoved Harry's hand away from him, only to stumble back against the carved rock. He looked as if he wanted to go after the cup that was settling against the opposite wall of the short hallway that separated the Lestrange vaults from some of the others. But he shook his head and clenched his hands into fists, redirecting his gaze to Harry.
"They call to the people who hold them." Tom said, without revealing too much of the cup's true nature to Bruzon. He looked disgusted, whether at the horcrux or at himself for becoming absorbed by it, Harry wasn't sure. Bruzon looked pensive, staring between them and the goblet.
"What will you do with it?"
"Destroy it." Harry looked from the cup to Tom with a start. The only way Harry knew of to destroy the thing was a good blow with a basilisk fang, and he hoped there weren't any basilisks running around Gringotts.
Tom whisked out his wand, and with a swirl, produced a small drawstring bag. Rather than walking over to the goblet and picking it up, the bag floated over to the goblet, scooped it up, closed itself up with a nice little bow and floated back over to them. Tom snagged it out of the air and disappeared it somewhere on his person.
"Later then, I'm guessing?"
"Yes." Tom didn't look at Harry, moving towards the main hall, leaving Bruzon and Harry behind.