Chapter 4 Depths of the Dingiest Dungeon

Seated in a plushy armchair of his own conjuration, the apparently serene headmaster patiently waiting the return of the trio of students he had correctly concluded to be at the heart of the day's events. Serene as he appeared to be, Dumbledore was actually in turmoil. He knew that Harry had not, could not have cast the charm or ward to create such a barrier.

The enraged potions master had not wasted an instant once the barrier had blocked his descent, "Potter! Remove your barrier or I will have you in detention, every night for the rest of this school year!" he was furious that thousands of galleons in the rarest of potions ingredients slipped between his fingers.

"Severus, we wait," said the headmaster, having cast a silencing and privacy charm around them. Barred in his own castle, the headmaster appeared as if he was still in control of the situation as they waited for those allowed to pass to return. In the meanwhile, the headmaster and his potions professor would have to somehow tune out Myrtle unending sobbing.

Fleur Delacour had barely gone down a dozen steps before deciding that there was nothing here but rocks, slime and the carcass of a beast. She shrugged and retreated, unnoticed by Veela standards. Veela, by their very nature attract the attention of all who could be interested, not limited to only members of the opposite gender. Having lived with her gift, or curse for her entire life had made her accustom to the jealous stares of women, and the drooling men and the occasional woman - in this case twins. It had equipped the Veela with an almost diamond hard armor and the cold aloofness of an apocalypse survivor that won her few friends.

Those gathered below were standing by a cave in, the very same one where Lockhart had tried to obliviate both Harry and Ron. He waited patiently for the goblins to clear the way, even as he ruthlessly suppressed a twinge of compassion for Ron. Ron had brought all of his troubles down on himself. He sighed, and realized everyone was watching him, waiting for him to say something. He shrugged and filled them in on what had transpired with the coward Lockhart, who had planned to obliviate them and play the tragic hero in what would have been another best seller.

Professor Flitwick however was more interested in what had transpired at the mouth of the chamber, "Mr. Potter, what was that ward upstairs? And why did it deny access to the headmaster?" It was no secret that Severus Snape was as unpopular amongst the teaching faculty as he was amongst the students. However, barring the headmaster was unusual, to say the least, never mind that out of the many students gathered, few had been granted passage.

"I honestly don't know sir," replied Harry with a shrug, "I can't cast a ward or spell that powerful." The three professors were not convinced that he did not know anything about the barrier, "But it's not the first time, someone has discreetly come to my aid." That remark left the gathered heads of house wondering what exactly they had missed as they stood before the door to the chamber itself, "I don't know how bad it's going to smell after two years." Hermione shrugged and cast a bubblehead charm on both of them.

Many of the students and professors chose to follow suit, "Ten points to Gryffindor!" squeaked the diminutive charm's professor. There was a chuckle from everyone as the door opened and their fears of the smell were proved unfounded, much to the amusement of the Goblins. Magical creatures do not begin to decompose until their innate magic has dissipated which given the size of the basilisk would not have been for at least another two to three hundred years. The torches along the walls burst in to life and the slain basilisk in all its glory stopped even the Goblins in their tracks.

Ginny was only on her feet by virtue of having Luna and Hermione holding her as they gently lowered the shaking girl to the floor, where she sobbed. Unsure what exactly he should or could do, he was saved from trying to comfort her by her brothers, who grabbed and dragged him aside, "I can't believe…" said Fred

"… that you fought that thing…" continued George

"…and killed it…." Replied Fred

"… to save our Ginny," concluded George. As always it was a little disconcerting talking to the twins without winding up with a severe case of whiplash as the brothers shared a glance, and agreed on something, "You ever need anything, brother," started George.

"Anything at all," confirmed Fred.

"We're there," stated George, "brother!" They swept the confused teenager in a hug that would rival one of their mother's hugs before wiping their eyes and going to comfort their now, slightly less distraught sister.

"It's bloody gigantic! How the hell did you kill that with a sword?" asked Cedric. Justin and Colin could only stare at the dead monster as it sank in just how close they had come to being true friends instead of mere acquaintances with death. Neither muggle born would consider taking on such a creature with anything less than an army. Cedric shook his head. A French Veela would be eating her 'little boy' comment before too long.

Victor Krum was his usual dour self, but had taken note of the kill and made a note to actually step up his training and to take practice a little more seriously. He stared at the child…boy… Champion, he decided. Others could say what they want, but Champion Potter of Gringotts had slain a Basilisk at the age of twelve…

There was the flash as Colin snapped back to the moment and began taking pictures and after brief discussion with Griphook who was once again all teeth, he approached the Gryffindor photographer, with Luna in tow, "I've got a business proposition for both of you." The proposition was too good to be true for the young Gryffindor, who would have probably signed his soul over to Harry if asked. However, the professors presented prevented such a thing from happening as they agreed that the proposition was most generous in both its nature and the terms.

Ginny finally had herself under control enough to approach him, carrying a fang that had tatters of burned and melted paper along its edge. "Can I keep this?" she asked quietly. The fang was almost the length of her forearm, "it's the same one that you pulled from your arm and stabbed the diary with."

He took the fang from her, as the memories came rushing back of him dying as the acidic venom blazed an agonizing trail through his blood, struggling to apologize for being too slow, too late to save her. That was of course, before Fawkes had shed tears in to the wound to save him. Hermione swept him up in a hug, "Typical Harry Potter," there was a lilt of laughter to her words, "He puts everyone before himself, even when he's about to die."

An embarrassed Harry replied, "If it makes you feel better Ginny then by all means take it, but make sure that it is safe – completely safe." She kissed him on the cheek and set off to find Griphook. She would have to do a lot to balance the life debt that she owed him, and did not exactly know where to start. Nevertheless, she would figure something out.

The flash from Colin's camera outlined the harvest of the Basilisk as they drained the creature's blood, and then began to harvest of its internal organs, fangs and venom glands. Finally, the apothecaries began to separate the scales from the skin. From start to finish, the blend of almost muggle techniques and magic had taken only a few hours.

Finally, getting the last few pictures of the Goblins separating the scales and skin, Colin joined the small exodus back in to the castle. Harry and his growing entourage stayed back when Professor McGonagall paused, "You do know, that the Headmaster will be waiting for you?" she did not have to add that Snape would be there too.

The headmaster seemed content to watch Professor Snape do his damnedest to breach the ward, and had paid for his persistence with a multitude of light cuts, scratches, bruises and burns. He had determined it to be a barrier ward, designed specifically to block specific magical signatures. It was unclear what criteria it was using for denying students access however: The ward had blocked students from every house, almost in equal numbers. The tired and sore potions master had to grudgingly admit that this was beyond "no-talent, attention seeking" Potter's ability to cast. Dumbledore knew he would eventually subvert or overwhelm the ward. After all, he was the greatest wizard of at least, the century.

Colin's smile would have made the Grand Canyon look like a crack in the pavement as he ascended in to the bathroom with his camera still in hand, and two roles of film in his pocket only to be pounced by Dumbledore, "Ah. Mr. Creevy. I would be most interested in seeing the photographs that you have taken tonight."

Colin faltered for a moment, but his smile never wavered, "I'm sorry headmaster but, I signed a contract with Harry, The Quibbler and the Gringotts Goblins were witnesses." The smile on Dumbledore's face faltered for a moment.

"What utter rubbish! You're too young to sign any kind of contract," retorted Snape, with his customary sneer fixed on his face as disdain dripped from every syllable.

Harry chose that moment to intervene on the young man's behalf, "He may be. However, Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick both witnessed the terms of the contract, and she signed on his behalf. The Quibbler now has exclusive rights until the summer."

Colin was suddenly grinning like an Azkaban escape, "I'm going to get my pictures published!" Colin was not too worried about the money from the deal. He was already rich from the Basilisk, "I am now the only person allowed to take Harry's picture! I would have paid any amount of money for this opportunity!"

"You would have signed over your soul," commented Professor McGonagall, "if Harry had asked you for it." Her dry tone held the barest trace of humor "Is there a problem headmaster?"

Thinking on his feet, he redirected her line of inquiry, hoping to deflect the somewhat unwanted attention, "We were just discussing Mr. Creevey's contract and why you felt that there was no need to inform me of the business negotiations?"

"I felt confident in my ability to handle the negotiations and Mr. Creevey can turn his passion in to a career for a Galleon. He will receive accreditation for his work and payment as a percentage of sales." She turned her eyes on Snape for a moment, "Harry actions in the past prove that his honor and integrity are beyond common reproach – unlike some."

Amongst the last to emerge from the underground were Harry, Hermione and Luna deep in conversation with Griphook. Dumbledore was only able to hear snippets of the conversation and was left wondering what they where up to, inside his castle, "...within an hour?"

"…geomancers…simple enough….our own magi for some of the other enchantments…"

"What kind?" asked Hermione. They drifted close enough to the headmaster for him to overhear snatches of conversation.

"Chronological…" said Griphook, "…secrets of the Goblin Nation, and are not mine to share," he turned to Harry.

Harry shrugged pragmatically, "I won't pretend to not be curious, but if it's not your secret, it's not your secret." Hermione pouted in protest at the knowledge that seemed to be slipping away from her, "You're cute when you do that," said Harry as he gently kissed her. She blushed and the goblin smiled. Catching sight of the Goblin's smile, Griphook waggled his eyebrows and she blushed again.

They stopped as Griphook addressed the wizard standing before them, "Headmaster Dumbledore, I trust that you are aware that the Champions accommodations and training grounds are for the champion to choose. Mr. Potter has chosen, and Gringotts will be outfitting the Chamber of Secrets as his the site for his residence for the duration of the tournament." The Goblin smiled without showing teeth, "It would be an exercise in poor judgment for any to attempt to circumvent the wards and other protections for as a goblin champion, goblin law will be enforced in the protection of his residence."

The headmaster proceeded to spend over an hour, cautiously probing the protections in place. Whatever barrier had prevented him and Severus from descending had vanished, but upon exiting at the bottom of the stairs, Dumbledore found himself facing four of the Agaan Gharaar Muukuur Hor. They were standing at the far end of the torch light corridor that lead he presumed, to the chamber itself. He drew his wand cautiously, and was quick to note that the Goblin drew their weapons with equal caution. A few probing and scanning charms later, the pair retreated upon confirming that the defenses were exactly as Griphook had said.

The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind of classes that Harry found himself very distracted in due to the blend of questions and insults that peppered him. The only two lessons where nobody dared say anything snide or interrupt were Defense against the Dark Arts and Transfigurations because nobody wanted to wind up as a Malfoy-esque ferret or cross the Scottish transfiguration professor.

Hermione and Harry escorted Luna from her last class of the day to her dormitory. Before she could pack, she had to sort through a pile of hastily returned belongings, "Seems like everyone who took something has returned it," there was a dreamy quality to her voice as if she hadn't minded any of it. The slight shift in Harry's posture made it clear that he was not happy. The couple stood guard as she packed her trunk, shrunk it and dropped it in her pocket, "I'm ready." They left without a word or a backward glance to the very edgy students of Ravenclaw house, who collectively released the breath they were holding as their common room door slammed.

They were met at the entrance to their new home by a Griphook, who took great delight in playing tour guide from the magically expanded entrance hall onwards, "Goblins believe that the best place to prepare an offense, or conduct a defense is underground, where everything can be used to aid you. Your quarters are secure as Gringotts itself." He directed them to their respective suites and bade the tired teenager's goodnight. He stepped in to the floo and returned to the bank where he had a progress report to write for the council.

Half an hour later, Harry was leafing through a book when there was a knock at the door, "Come in," he said, placing the book on the bedside table. He was surprised to see Luna instead of Hermione, "Luna? Everything alright?"

She seemed, unsure of herself, "That's just it Harry…. I don't know," she sat at the foot of the bed, and just stared at the far wall for a moment, composing herself as Harry pretended not to notice her wiping away a stray tear, "I just, want to say thank you… you can't know how much this, means to me…"

"Actually I do," replied Harry quietly, "I don't know what everyone else thinks or knows… even Hermione… I've not had the chance to tell her about Privet Drive."

"That where you live with your muggle relatives?" he nodded, and she shook her head the moment he started to speak, "I don't want to know. Ok… that is a lie. I do want to know but Hermione should know first. She's your girlfriend Harry Potter, and she has more of a right to know that I do… even if we do have some things in common." He blinked, just as she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, "That's a story for another time, maybe. But, thank you all the same. Good night Harry."

She was out the door, and it clicked softly as it closed. He was lost in thought, wondering exactly what she meant by that… and wondered what that meant until Hermione turned up looking for a goodnight kiss that lasted almost ten minutes…

In the village of Little Hangleton, the Riddle House was a monument of crumbling ruin and decay, instead of what it should have been. In one of the few room where the fireplace still worked, the partially restored Dark Lord of Great Britain, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named sat or perhaps more accurately hunched on a large armchair, facing the fireplace. He let the flames ward him against the cold as he waited.

Behind the door was where muggle Frank Bryce had listened in on their plans for the Triwizard Tournament lurked Peter "Wormtail" Pettigrew. Voldemort could feel the man's presence and more importantly, he could smell fear: Wormtail feared bringing his master bad news.

The first part of the plan had worked surprisingly well. They had captured Barty Crouch Senior and released his son from the Imperius Curse. They now had the agent in Hogwarts, who provided the bad news Wormtail bore, "Master, I bring word from your agent," he hesitated, "Potter has used the tournament to his own ends. He has formed an alliance with the Goblins, who are now his sponsors for the tournament… he has been granted partial emancipation and claimed the Potter Family Vault."

Silence stretched out, consuming the minutes in much the way Nagini had consumed the muggle caretaker. Silence was never a good sign, and Peter Pettigrew found himself wondering, yet again, how he could have been so abysmally stupid as to think that being a Death Eater would grant him wealth and power. "You did not foresee this?" he snarled, "Crucio!"

He was not sure how long he was under the curse as knives, needles and broken glass set every nerve aflame. A cold clinically detached and distant part of his mind remembered the future of wealth and power he had imagined when he took the Dark Mark.

Instead, he had spent thirteen years as a rat and six months as a nursemaid….