The Name in Red **COMPLETE**

Hello everyone! I've got Chapter 18 for you! Sorry once again for the delay in updating. I've been quite busy. Thank you for all the great reviews! I absolutely love them and cannot get enough of them. They are very encouraging. I hate to keep you all waiting for updates! Wait no more, here is Chapter 18! Enjoy!


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The Name in Red.

Chapter 18: Portraits of the Past, and Planning for the Future.
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It was some time later when consciousness finally revisited her. Shifting slightly, she found that she was now comfortably tucked into the bedclothes. It was luxuriously soft and warm, and there seemed to be a source of heat which emanated from somewhere beside her. Part of this wonderful heat was gently draped over her form. Taking in a deep breath, she already knew what it was; his scent was everywhere, filling her with comfort and a wonderful sense of well-being. When her eyelids fluttered open, by the dim light of the lowly-burning fire, she could see Snape beside her, seemingly asleep, with his arm draped over her.

Slowly and carefully, as not to disturb his rest, she took his arm and set it on the mattress beside him. For a few moments she was quite still, making sure she had not woken him. When he did not move or open his eyes, she sat up. She was still nude, but she could see that all of her clothes were neatly folded and set at the foot of the bed. Her eyes moved from her clothing to rest on Snape again. She regarded him thoughtfully. His breathing was slow, deep, and even. She had never seen him asleep before. He looked more peaceful and content than she had ever seen him while awake.

Still careful to move slowly and quietly, she shifted out of the bed and dressed herself. A small smile crossed her lips as she did, marveling at how this usually sour and strict man had taken such care not only to tuck her into bed with him, but to meticulously fold her clothing for her as well. Even though it was slightly chilly outside of the protectively warm bedclothes, she felt warm inside. He treated her with such gentleness and tenderness that she had never known before, in a manner that seemed ridiculously unlikely to ever come from him based on his usual outward demeanor.

When she was fully dressed, she leaned against one of the bedposts and looked down upon Snape again. He was still asleep and hadn't seemed to take notice in the slightest that the bed's other occupant was gone. Sarah had no idea how long they had been asleep, but knew that if he were awake, he would probably suggest she leave. She sighed softly to herself. Part of this saddened her; she would like nothing more than to spend the night down here with him. Still, she knew that caution should not be thrown to the wind. If someone came to call in the morning and she were seen emerging from his quarters in the same clothes that she had worn the previous day, it would certainly raise unwanted suspicion.

For a few moments she stood there, silently watching him sleep. Inside her head, she was debating about whether or not to wake him in order to tell him she was leaving. If he were to wake up and find her gone without any explanation, he might incorrectly assume that she had desired to leave and ran off at first chance. Watching him rest so peacefully, however, she resolved that she couldn't possibly wake him from his rest when he looked so content. Instead, she decided, she would leave a note explaining that she had awoken before him, would love to have stayed, but took cue from his own suggestion and left in order to avoid suspicion. As quietly as she could, she left his bedroom and entered the adjoining study.

Luckily, upon the desk, she immediately found a couple pieces of blank parchment. She spent a few moments pulling open drawers in search of a pen before realizing that she would find no such thing here. Smirking, she eyed the long-feathered quill resting in an inkwell atop the desk, near where she had found the blank parchment. She was used to neatly-writing ballpoint pens and other modern writing utensils. Extending her hand toward the quill, she carefully lifted it out of the inkwell and inspected its tip with raised eyebrows. Well, she thought to herself, If I'm going to be a witch, I guess I'm going to have to learn to write with one of these sooner or later.

It took several minutes, several inky fingertips, and a piece of scratch parchment before she was proficient with quill-writing. So far she hadn't missed anything whatsoever about the Muggle world, or even thought of it much at all since arriving here. Indeed, magic had made all of the technological conveniences of the Muggle world seem a bit superfluous. After scribing her note to Snape, however, she realized that she greatly preferred Muggle pens to this whole ink-and-feather affair. She would just have to get used to it. Neatly replacing the quill in the inkwell, she took her note and quietly re-entered the bedroom.

Snape was still sleeping peacefully, it seemed. He hadn't moved since she left the bed. She smiled softly to herself again and could not help but watch him in his rest for a few more moments. Scanning the room, she scouted for an appropriate place to leave her note. He would most certainly find it if she were to leave it on the pillow beside him, but she did not want to risk getting close to him again and disturbing his rest. Instead, her eyes fell upon the wardrobe. That would be a good place to leave it, she thought. After all, he would have to be getting himself dressed as well sooner or later.

She approached the wardrobe and set her note down atop it. She was in the middle of turning to leave when she noticed that her note was not the only piece of parchment which was now resting on the wardrobe. Doing a bit of a double-take, she turned back to examine the wardrobe's surface. Next to where she had placed her note was another bit of parchment, as well as what appeared to be a torn photograph resting on top of it. Interest piqued, she turned to glance at Snape once more. He was apparently still asleep. She turned back to the wardrobe and picked up the small page of parchment next to her note. There was barely any writing on it, and she had to squint and bring it close to her eyes in order to read it by the dim light of the fire.

could ever have been friends with Gellert Grindelwald! I think her mind's going, personally!

Lots of love,
Lily

Sarah raised her eyebrows curiously. The note's contents made little sense to her. Even though Harry had told her briefly of the friendship between Dumbledore and Grindelwald in the scope of his own story, without the rest of the letter, Sarah had no idea what or who it was possibly referring to, or whose mind was 'going'. The name Lily was unfamiliar to her as well; in Harry's story, he had always referred to Lily as 'my mum' or some other such label, never actually mentioning her by name out of habit, so Sarah had no way of knowing who the name belonged to.

Lily. Sarah's eyes, which had previously been wide with curiosity, narrowed. Deep inside of her, she felt an intense pang of jealousy. Who the hell was Lily? She glanced back at Snape again, but he was still unmoving. She suddenly felt extremely jealous and territorial in a way that she had never felt before. She felt an intense desire to crumple up the small note and toss it away, but she resisted the urge. If it were resting pristine and untouched upon his wardrobe, it must be important to him in some way.

Sighing, she turned back to the wardrobe and set down Lily's note. Eager for more information, she immediately picked up the small photograph which had been lying atop it. It appeared to be torn and missing a large portion of its original form. Sarah scanned the wardrobe's surface quickly to be sure she hadn't overlooked the missing piece, but there was nothing else. She squinted and brought the torn photograph close to her eyes, but she could not make it out adequately in the lack of light. Glancing quickly to Snape again, who was still apparently asleep, she moved closer to the fire beside the bed. There, she examined the photograph in the greater light.

She was slightly startled at first when she saw that the woman in the photograph was moving, but was not very surprised. She had already seen the castle's portraits and how they could move and talk, and even the moving pictures on The Daily Prophet when Harry had shown her the story that they had produced. She had not, however, seen an ordinary Wizarding photograph on its own before, and at first glance, it had appeared to be just a normal photograph to her.

The woman in the photograph was smiling and laughing, silently waving up at her. Sarah's brows furrowed as she examined the woman. She had long, bright red hair and a very pretty face. She quirked a brow as she examined the woman's eyes; they were bright green, almond-shaped, and strikingly familiar. Then, Sarah's own eyes widened in realization, and she hurried back over to the wardrobe and glanced again at the signature scrawled at the bottom of the note. Lily.

Lily, she thought to herself, eyes wide. This must be--

"Please be careful with that," spoke a soft, deep voice from behind her.

Sarah gasped sharply and jumped, dropping the photograph of Harry's mother back onto the part of the note which it accompanied. She turned around to face Snape, who was now sitting up in bed watching her, his bare upper body visible. Her heart was racing. She had thought him to be soundly asleep, and she hadn't heard him move at all. She was now terrified that she would be thrown out of his quarters, that he would be furious with her for going through his things while he slept. She hadn't really gone through anything, really, she quickly rationalized inside her racing mind. They had just been lying there in plain sight.

"What are you doing?" he asked her softly. There was no accusation or anger in his voice, and his expression was soft, almost as soft as it had been while he slept. The girl cleared her throat, evidently nervous. He hadn't expected her to be fully dressed and inspecting the items atop his wardrobe when he awoke.

"I was just--," she stammered, but realizing she sounded nervous, she paused and took a deep, calming breath. "I was just leaving you a note," she explained. "I knew I should probably be getting back to my room so I don't raise suspicion, but I didn't want you to think that I ran off or anything like that..." she trailed off quietly.

"Why didn't you just wake me then, you silly girl?" he asked, a pleasant tone of amusement in his voice.

"I didn't want to," Sarah responded, her voice almost a whisper, "You looked so... content."

Snape tilted his head at the girl.

"I certainly was," he admitted, "But that quickly changed when the source of my contentment vacated the bed."

He had risked complimenting her in his own roundabout way. He could not see well enough in the dim light to tell for sure, but he was certain that the girl was blushing profusely. Pleased with himself, the corners of his lips twitched.

"I'm sorry," she supplied.

"No need to apologize," he assured her. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stood. When the blankets slid off of him, Sarah was relieved to see that he was back in his boxers. She was already blushing enough; she did not need her face to catch fire.

He approached her slowly. She looked up at him, still slightly nervous about what he might say or do. As far as she knew, he should have no idea that she had heard the story of Harry's mother, including the most important parts which happened to involved him. He should have no idea that she had figured out who the note was from, and who was in the photograph. She had, however, let on that she knew more than he had told her by knowing Voldemort's name other than just 'The Dark Lord' phrase. She found herself staring at his bare chest as her mind raced, but she soon felt warm, gentle fingers tilting her head upward to look at him.

Snape looked down into the girl's artificially dark brown eyes, resisting the urge to probe their depths with his mind. He knew she had been looking at his photograph of Lily, and he could only imagine that she had seen the note as well. He wondered how much she knew, and wondered if she had known the woman's identity. He kept that part of his life a secret from everyone. The only other living being who should know is Potter, and he never would have given up those memories if he had not thought himself to be seconds from death.

As he looked down at the girl, he realized that it didn't matter. It didn't matter if the girl knew that part of his past or not. It was no mystery to her that he could love, and that he could be tender and kind and caring when so many people thought him incapable of it. He had always felt as if his love for Lily had been a vulnerability, an admittance to having feelings and having a heart, when this was so contrary to the front he desired to put up for the world at all times. This was part of the reason, aside from Potter, that he had guarded the secret so fiercely. This girl had created her own vulnerability in him; one that, by now, she was fully aware of. She knew he had feelings. She knew he had a heart. It was of little consequence of she knew of his past feelings for Lily; they were the same feelings that he was showing her here and now.

"Well," he said at last, after the girl had continued silently staring up at him for some time, "Now I know that you are leaving, and that you are not running off or anything like that." He imitated her words, a tone of amusement still in his voice. The corners of his lips twitched again.

Relieved, Sarah realized she had been holding her breath, and exhaled. She then returned his tiny smile. Raising herself up on her tiptoes, she gave him a sweet, chaste kiss. When she drew back from him, she smiled up at him again.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she told him.

He nodded once, the corners of his lips still slightly crooked.

"Good night," he said, unable to resist the urge of leaning down and returning her kiss. When he straightened up again, she was still smiling.

After the girl had left, Snape was still standing before the wardrobe. He examined the torn photograph and the small note for what must have been the millionth time. The wardrobe now had a new resident, however. He examined Sarah's note, smirking amusedly at the many ink smudges and its general messiness. He realized she had probably never written with a quill before. The note explained just what she had explained herself; she would liked to have stayed but thought it best to leave, and didn't have the heart to wake him. The one part of the letter that she had managed to make out very neatly was the place where she had signed her name.

Love,
Sarah

He examined it side-by-side with Lily's letter. In truth, he would always love Lily. Sarah's letter, however, had something that Lily's did not; this time, the love in the letter was for him, and him alone. Opening the wardrobe, he carefully placed Lily's letter and the torn photograph inside. He would keep them always, but it was time for a new letter to sit atop his wardrobe.


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Sarah was on her way back to the seventh floor corridor. She knew it must be very late; there was barely any light to be had in any of the corridors through which she passed, and everything was silent about her. At first, she resolved to not use her wandlight in order to not draw any attention to herself, but this idea quickly changed after she noisily bumped into a suit of armor. Cursing softly, she simultaneously rubbed a quickly-forming bump on her head and drew her wand out from inside her robes.

"Lumos," she whispered. Her wand immediately illuminated, filling the immediate area around her with bright, white light.

She continued on up toward her room, walking as quietly as possible, and letting her wand hang casually at her side, pointed at the ground. This way, it illuminated the area around her and gave her enough light not to bump into anything, and it would not reach the end of the corridor long before she did. It probably wouldn't be best to shine it straight out like some kind of spotlight and alert anyone ahead of her presence. Some of the portraits shifted in their frames and glared at her as she passed, mumbling quietly to themselves.

When she had almost reached the seventh floor corridor, she nearly had a heart attack. Out of nowhere, from behind her, there came a loud hiss. Gasping, Sarah wheeled about, her wand pointed in the direction of the noise. Instead of finding someone following her as she expected, there was nothing but empty corridor.

There came another hiss, and Sarah's eyes trailed downward. On the stone floor stood a strange-looking cat with lamp-like yellow eyes. Its fangs were bared, its back was arched, and it hissed again. It continued hissing nastily, apparently unappreciative of the spotlight now being shone on it, and the cat looked very much like it would probably claw at anything within reach if Sarah stood but a few feet closer.

Sarah exhaled. She had been greatly startled, but it was only a cat. She lowered her wand and began turning back around when she was given an even greater shock.

"Student out of bed!" snapped a rasping voice.

Sarah wheeled around again, her wand raised. Approaching from the corridor behind the cat was a man with a stooped posture and a limping gait. His hair was long, thin, and scraggly, and his face bore even more wrinkles than normal as he glowered at the girl standing before him with his pale eyes.

"Student out of bed!" he repeated, panting and wheezing slightly as he came to a halt behind the cat. He must have hurried extremely fast to get here. "I'll thank you to lower your wand and not shine that light straight at me, girl!"

Sarah's eyes were wide with fear and astonishment; she had never seen Filch before and had no idea what she was dealing with. She immediately jerked her arm, lowering her wand.

"I'm sorry, I was just--,"

"Do you have any idea how late it is?" Filch cut her off. "You are out well past curfew, this is a major infraction! Just where do you think you're going, anyway?"

For a few seconds, Sarah stammered to explain that she was just headed back to her room, gesturing in its general direction and causing her wandlight to shine erratically through the corridor. Several portraits grumbled loudly, and Filch continued glowering at her, not listening. The cat, now weaving herself sinuously through her master's ankles, hissed again.

"That's enough!" Filch interjected, limping forward with surprising speed toward a startled Sarah. He grabbed her roughly by the wrist and began dragging her in the opposite direction back down the corridor.

"I'm taking you straight to the Headmistress, I'm sure she'll love to hear all about whatever trouble you were up to!" he wheezed.

Sarah did not protest physically, but continued fruitlessly attempting to explain herself. The unpleasant old man seemed not to hear her, grumbling angrily to himself as he dragged her along toward the Headmaster's tower. Unable to punish as frequently as he had been able to while the Carrows had control of the school, Filch had been in overdrive lately, suffering from a sort of punishment withdrawal. He would constantly patrol the corridors on the lookout for misbehaving students, and on the occasions when he happened to find one, that student was sure to suffer tenfold.

Although she did not know it, Sarah had been extremely fortunate to have not encountered him yet. If Snape were to explain what a 'month's very unpleasant detention' was, she might understand now.

The cat, Sarah saw, was following at their heels. Somehow, the cat's yellow eyes seemed to be filled with gloating upon Sarah's misfortune. With a flick of her wrist, Sarah extinguished her wandlight in an annoyed fashion and shoved her wand back inside her robes.

They seemed to reach a dead end at the end of a long corridor. There was a gargoyle standing there, and to Sarah's surprise, when Filch mentioned cockroach clusters, the gargoyle leapt aside to reveal an archway. Inside, a spiral staircase was now snaking its way upward by itself. Filch dragged her inside without hesitating, climbing the ascending stairs with the girl in tow. Reaching the top, he noisily pushed open a wooden door and flung Sarah inside. Not bothering to shut the door behind them, he began storming off toward another staircase visible in the back of the large room. The cat trotted easily along behind him.

"You just wait here!" he grumbled at her. He continued grumbling as he disappeared from sight, and Sarah could only make out the words 'Headmistress' and 'expelled' here and there.

Sarah sighed, rubbing her wrist where Filch had grabbed her. After the slight discomfort had subsided, her eyes widened as she took stock of the amazing room around her.

Even though it was late at night, the room was dimly illuminated by moonlight shining in from several tall windows. The room was mostly circular in shape, and its walls were lined with glass display cases, all stuffed with amazingly intricate-looking instruments, the functions of which Sarah could not even possibly guess. Glancing upward, she could see that the wall overhead was lined with portraits, their occupants snoozing soundly, apparently having taken no notice of the late-night intrusion of the Headmaster's tower.

Turning around, she now faced a large desk, behind which sat a large, tall-backed chair. Her eyes followed its lines upward until she found herself looking at a large portrait resting above the desk. An old man with a long silver beard and piercing blue eyes was smiling serenely down at her. As she gazed up at him, she had the curious feeling that she was somehow being x-rayed with these eyes. The man's friendly smile was contagious, and she seemed unable to help herself in smiling back up at him sincerely before continuing to examine everything else about the room.

As she turned away, she did not see the old man's smiling expression change into one of concern as he examined her. He did not recognize her, and this was odd. He hadn't died that long ago, after all. He would still recognize all of his school's students that had been there prior to his death. Only one full school year, (if that particular year could even be called as such), had elapsed since then, and a second one had just begun. This girl in the Gryffindor robes, however, appeared too old to be a first or second year student by far. He should recognize her, and yet, her face was completely unfamiliar to him. He continued to examine her as she inspected his former office.

Suddenly the room lit itself, and there were raised voices entering from the Headmaster's quarters. Sarah could not understand what they were saying as they continued shouting over one another. Soon, she saw Filch hobbling back down the staircase, and Professor McGonagall, dressed in a tartan dressing gown similar to the one Sarah had first seen her in, was trailing behind him.

"See, Headmistress?" Filch spat, grabbing Sarah by an arm and pushing her closer to Professor McGonagall. "Caught this one out of bed at this late hour, who knows what she could have been up to!"

Professor McGonagall's green eyes widened when they fell upon Sarah, who looked equally distressed. Sarah immediately began rattling off about how her lesson had run late and she was just on her way back to her room when she had been apprehended. Filch continued mumbling away accusations beside her, but Professor McGonagall seemed focused on Sarah's explanation, and absorbed enough of it to understand that she hadn't been up to anything sinister. Her eyes narrowed as they shifted from Sarah to Filch, who fell silent.

"Go back to your prowling, Filch," she said sternly. "This girl isn't in any trouble."

Filch looked shocked.

"She was out of bed, she--!" he stammered, trying to explain again as if Professor McGonagall did not understand the grave crime that the girl had committed.

"I am aware she was out of bed," McGonagall continued impatiently, "And she had a perfectly legitimate reason to be. I can only assume that you did not stop to listen to her properly before dragging her up here to me. And now I am out of bed, Filch, and I am none too pleased with it." She glared at him.

Defeated, Filch unhanded Sarah and stalked out of the door, the cat trailing after him. Neither Sarah or McGonagall missed his mumbled obscenities as he left.

"And I'll be changing the password after tonight!" McGonagall shouted after him. There came a louder obscenity from the bottom of the spiral staircase.

Sarah exhaled, relaxing.

"Thank you, Professor," she said sincerely, giving the older woman an extremely grateful look. Neither one of them saw as the old man in the portrait behind the desk raised his eyebrows interestedly now that he could clearly hear the girl's speaking voice.

"I am to assume that you were really doing as you said, and not up to any wrongdoing?" McGonagall asked, though her tone was light and almost amused.

Sarah nodded vigorously.

"I was just on my way back to my room, we didn't realize what time it was," she said truthfully. It was, after all, the truth. Track of time had been lost, but the condition in which it had been lost need not be explained.

Professor McGonagall gave Sarah a small smile.

"Very well," she nodded. "I just had to ask. Your friend Potter has a history."

Sarah laughed a little, fully aware of Harry's history of copious rule-breaking.

"Get yourself to bed, then," McGonagall continued, giving Sarah a nod, "I will be doing the same myself, after changing the password of course. I won't be needing any more late-night visits from that man."

"Thanks again, Professor," Sarah said, and returned the older woman's nod in a small bow of gratitude. She then hurried out of the office.

Before Professor McGonagall could wave her wand to extinguish the room's lights once again, a soft, kind voice spoke to her from above the desk.

"A new student, Minerva?" asked Dumbledore from his portrait.

Minerva looked up, slightly startled, to see Albus Dumbledore smiling down at her from his portrait above the desk. She smiled back up at him.

"Of a sort," she said.

Dumbledore tilted his head curiously.

"I'll explain in the morning," said McGonagall. With a yawn, she extinguished the room's lights. After changing the tower's password to 'irksome interloper', an unusual but highly overdue departure from the usual sweet-related passwords, she headed back up to bed.


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The following day, whenever Sarah went anywhere, she proceeded with extreme caution as she moved about the corridors. Even in broad daylight, when she knew it couldn't possibly be against any rules for her to be out and about, she walked as carefully and as quietly as she had in the dead of night. She was not keen on running into Filch again. Although, judging from the reception Filch had received from Professor McGonagall, Sarah had the impression that the man would probably not risk bothering her again. Still, she did not wish to find out. After carefully making her way up to her room early in the afternoon, she settled in to read.

She had just come from visiting in the Gryffindor common room and having lunch in the Great Hall. At first, she had been eager to tell her friends of her late-night encounter with the school's bitter and unpleasant caretaker. At further thought, however, she realized that she would then have to explain why exactly she was on her way back to her room from the dungeons in the middle of the night. She decided to keep her mouth shut about it.

Now she was sitting in her bed reading Hermione's copy of The Daily Prophet. Hermione, having already finished it, had allowed to her to keep it. After her first exposure to the publication, Sarah found herself wanting to read it more and more. She had never been one to read the Muggle newspapers before she had arrived here, but she found the Wizarding news fascinating. As she unfolded the paper, she was thinking that she would have to get herself an owl and her own subscription.

She was disappointed when her eyes fell upon the headlines on the front page. She had been hoping that, by now, nothing about their exploits at the Ministry would still be in the news. She sighed as she perused the headline.

SHACKLEBOLT'S AUTHORITY AGAIN CHALLENGED IN LIGHT OF MINISTRY BREAK-IN

Pius Thicknesse, former Minister for Magic and again Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, points to Kinglsey Shacklebolt's regime as the source of weakness which allowed a break-in at the Obliviator Headquarters on Sunday, and calls for a swift change in policy.

"This is what we get when we put a mere Auror in charge," says Thicknesse at a Ministry press conference earlier today. "Security under the old regime was airtight. Under this new regime, all of our most sensitive information seems to be in jeopardy. Ministry security should be top priority, and I intended to use the full strength of my Department to make it so, regardless of Shacklebolt's opinions. We do not need another period of turmoil brought about by a weak Ministry."

Sarah snorted to herself as she read. From what Harry had told her, she knew that this "old regime" was really Voldemort's regime, and security hadn't exactly been 'airtight' based on Harry's other Ministry invasion debacle. She read on.

Minister Shacklebolt declined to comment on the accusations, and has generally ignored Thicknesse's numerous attacks on him and his policies.

Sarah didn't come anywhere close to reaching the bottom of the article. After only a few moments of reading, there came a soft knock on the door. She quickly folded up the Prophet and tossed it aside. When she reached the door and opened it, she discovered Harry standing in the corridor outside, when she had only left his company a scant few minutes ago.

"Harry, what's up? I thought you had class," said Sarah, looking at Harry confusedly.

Harry smirked.

"I do," he admitted. After Sarah stepped aside for him, he entered the room and watched as she closed the door behind him.

"Then you're ditching it?" asked Sarah, sounding surprised. She had ditched her fair share of classes in Muggle schools, but couldn't imagine why anyone would possibly want to ditch any classes at Hogwarts.

"A few minutes of it, at least. I wanted to talk to you," Harry explained.

"We were just talking at lunch," said Sarah, still sounding confused. She moved to sit on the edge of her bed, facing the middle of the room where Harry stood.

"I know," said Harry quickly. "I wanted to talk to you about our plan. I couldn't very well bring up our idea to break into Gringotts again with everyone else around."

Sarah shifted uneasily on the bed's edge.

"I didn't really think we had a plan, Harry," she said.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," he replied. "I've been thinking."

Sarah's eyes widened. She could definitely see how Harry's mind went into overdrive when there was mischief and planning afoot. As for herself, she hadn't given much extra thought to the daunting task they had agreed to after the initial conversation about it. Harry, on the other hand, was apparently already scheming for it.

"What about?" asked Sarah.

Harry took a deep breath, making sure he had everything straight inside his head before he would begin explaining it.

"Alright," he began, "Breaking into Gringotts isn't easy, but I think we can do it similar to how I did it last time, and I've still got our same ticket inside."

Sarah blinked at him, urging him to continue.

"The sword," he stated simply.

"Of Gryffindor?" Sarah asked, sounding surprised. She had never actually seen it herself, but had heard it described in grandeur by Harry when he told her of his basilisk and Horcrux-slaying exploits with it. She heard how it had finally been used to slay the great snake after once again being pulled out of the Sorting Hat, but had never bothered to ask what had become of it after that.

"You've still got it?" she asked.

Harry nodded.

"I've got it," he affirmed. "Neville gave it back to me after everything was over, since he knew Dumbledore left it to me in his will. It's been at Grimmauld Place ever since, just sitting there."

"But I thought you promised it to that goblin for helping you get inside Gringotts," Sarah pressed.

"I did," Harry admitted, "But it came back to me, didn't it? Neville pulled it out of the hat and gave it back to me. Griphook wouldn't dare come to me and claim it, or he would be openly admitting to the part he played in the break-in. He managed to cover himself and he's still working at the bank. If the other goblins ever found out, they'd disown him, or worse."

"You would offer him the sword again?" asked Sarah, shifting uneasily again on the edge of the bed. The prospect of dealing with goblins was intimidating.

Harry nodded again.

"He probably reckons it's already his," he continued, "But I would offer it to him again, no strings attached. Odds are no one is going to need to be pulling it out of the Sorting Hat again anytime in the near future."

Harry then stood silent, watching Sarah, and searching for her reaction to his plan. She looked back at him with a mix of concern and apprehension.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked.

Harry gave another nod.

"Absolutely sure," he stated firmly. "It might take some tough convincing on our part to get him to agree to it, but if he does, it should be relatively easy from there on out."

"Easy?" Sarah repeated sarcastically. "Harry, we're talking about breaking into a bank here, I would hardly call that easy."

"Well it should be much easier than last time, at any rate," Harry reasoned. "Last time they sort of knew we were breaking in before we actually got down there to start searching for what we wanted. This time, I don't think there will be a swarm of security goblins coming down after us. I'm not a wanted criminal anymore; there won't be anything suspicious about me wanting to visit my vault. We can plan the rest from there."

Sarah narrowed her eyes in thought; she could see where Harry's reasoning was going. If the plan was to work, they would probably go down into the bank under the guise of visiting Harry's vault. Once there, they would then proceed to the vault they were actually interested in. She didn't know much about the bank's inner workings, but Harry's reasoning seemed sound. Once they were inside, things shouldn't be too difficult. Relatively speaking, of course. Breaking into a bank, especially if that bank was Gringotts, was no small task.

"Alright," Sarah said at last. "But I want some time, Harry. I don't want to be doing this tomorrow. I want some time to get up to scratch as a witch before doing something like this again. There's so much I need to learn."

Harry nodded. He could agree with this. If anything went terribly wrong, they would probably end up needing to fight their way out, or make their own way out, and that could take some pretty complex magic. As far as he knew, there might also be Ministry security protecting their target vault at the present moment in addition to the normal protection that Gringotts offers. Some people lost a small deal of confidence in the bank after the recent break-in.

"That's fine," he told her, "And that's probably better for us, too. The longer it's in there, the longer we have for people to forget about it and to stop talking about it. If Gringotts has a break-in three days after the Ministry did, I'm sure it would be more dangerous for us if something goes wrong. There's also a chance that Ministry people are in there right now, too. If we wait long enough, they might leave if they think all is clear."

Sarah smiled at Harry, relieved that he was willing to wait instead of diving head-first into their plan as soon as possible.

"We'll go to Griphook when you're ready," Harry said. "That will also give me some time to figure out what I'm going to say to him," he added dryly. Dealing with the goblin was probably going to be none too pleasant. There was no doubt in Harry's mind that Griphook already believed the sword to be his property, and offering it as another bribe for aid in breaking into Gringotts yet again would just be icing on the already thickly-layered cake.

Once Harry headed off to his partially ditched class, Sarah went over to her bookcase. If she were going to prepare herself for their mission in a timely manner, she would need to be reading more than just The Daily Prophet. Sifting through the rows of books, she removed The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7 from a shelf at eye level. She settled back into her bed, wand in one hand, and the book in the other. It was time for some serious independent study.


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A/N: There you have Chapter 18! I hope you enjoyed it. I apologize for it being relatively on the short side compared to some of the more recent chapters. (My word counter puts it at 6481 words, and I'm calling that short! Hah!). But the chapter served its purpose in the scheme of things.

Leave a review if you would be so kind! Thank you so much for reading :)

Also, I forgot to mention in an earlier update which would have been closer to the fact, but how awesome is it that Dumbledore is gay?! I was pretty surprised to find out about it but I think it's totally awesome. I think it's another layer on an already amazing character, and it makes his story make even more sense, and makes it even more tragic. I love it!