The Name in Red **COMPLETE**

Hello everyone! I can't even begin to apologize enough for making you all wait so very long for a new chapter. I thought I would have more time to write over the holidays, but I'm sure you all know how the holidays can be hectic. I just decided that I couldn't go another week without putting out a new chapter for everyone. Here is chapter 20! Enjoy!


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The Name in Red.

Chapter 20: Time Flies; Dangerous Dealings.
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It was now most definitely winter. The castle itself and its surrounding grounds were now covered with their first glazes of snow. The first flakes had fallen recently, gently forcing the last of the dried leaves upon the lawns to accept their soft embrace and move into the new season. The holidays were fast approaching, and the cold had set in early, but the snow had fortunately not begun to pile up to any significant measures just yet. At the moment, it was little more than a slight hindrance underfoot on the trudges back and forth from Hogsmeade instead of a full-blown obstacle.

The couple short months since Sarah's arrival in her new world had passed more than quickly. Just as time had once seemed to slow itself for her, it now seemed to be skipping along at a healthy pace. She was surrounded by new and wonderful friends, and had infinite amounts of new things to learn each and every day. After having agreed to Harry's wish to gain access to Gringotts, she quickly shifted most of her studies to some of the more practical aspects of magic. Her friends were happy to share all of their knowledge with her, and also to help her practice. Snape, of course, was happy to teach her anything she wanted to know during their lessons together, and Hagrid had taken a great enthusiasm in her sudden desire to learn everything there was to know about dragons.

One of her biggest goals of the past weeks had been to gain a mastery over the amazing feat of Apparition. If at any time during their venture into the bank she were to become separated from Harry, she wanted a means of escaping on her own. To all except Harry, she of course left the reasons behind her real desire to learn this skill a secret. Even so, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione became her willing Apparition tutors during their frequent trips into Hogsmeade. These lessons were conducted in careful secrecy in an alleyway behind the Hog's Head pub in the much less-traveled part of town. It was illegal to Apparate without a license, but all parties were in agreement that it would be most unwise for Sarah to simply stroll inside the Ministry and present herself to take the Apparition test legitimately.

Sarah proved to be a quick study on the skill, only suffering minor splinches here and there that were easily fixed by Hermione. Today, however, she would be attempting her first long-distance Apparition by herself. It was mid-afternoon on a Friday, and she was sitting in her room upon her bed, nervously wringing her hands. Harry would be coming to get her soon, after his last class of the day had ended. Together they were going to see Professor McGonagall and ask her permission that Harry be allowed to take Sarah and show her Grimmauld Place so she could decide if she would like to stay there for the holidays instead of remaining behind at school.

This year would be a bit of a departure from Harry's normal holiday tradition; he had already informed the Weasley family that he would be spending the holidays in his own home this year for the first time, but also that Ron and Ginny were welcome to come and spend the holidays there as well. Hermione had also been invited, of course. This change of pace was mostly to facilitate their plans at infiltrating Gringotts, but Harry also realized that he would have to start getting more used to the fact that Grimmauld Place was going to be his home as well for the time being. He also reckoned that the Weasley house could probably use the extra room. Bill and Fleur would be coming in, who were now expecting; Percy was on good terms with the family again, and Charlie, who had spent far too many holidays alone with his dragons, would also be coming in.

As Harry had thought this, he had felt a sharp pang when he realized that the Weasley family would now be permanently one member short each holiday season.

Ron and Ginny, with Mrs. Weasley's permission, had accepted their invitations to stay with Harry, but only after Christmas was over. It was, as Harry realized, the family's first Christmas without Fred, and Molly would need all the emotional support she could get. Harry agreed to these terms, adding that he would also be in attendance in the Weasley home for Christmas dinner. He, Ron, and Ginny had also gained Mrs. Weasley's permission to bring another friend along, a friend like Harry, as they told her, who hadn't a family of her own to spend Christmas with. Hermione would also be arriving at Grimmauld Place after Christmas. Things looked to be working out advantageously for their plans; Harry and Sarah would have ample time before their friends arrived, being the only residents at Grimmauld Place aside from Kreacher, to slip out undetected and unharassed.

Sarah took a deep breath as she continued wring her hands, waiting for Harry to arrive. Deep in thought, she wasn't even aware that she was doing it. The true reason behind their leaving the school grounds together was, as usual, a secret. They would actually be going to Grimmauld Place as they were asking permission to, but only in order to retrieve a certain object. They would then be promptly leaving Grimmauld Place for Diagon Alley in order to hopefully conduct a dealing which they were both not looking forward to. This, however, was not quite the reason why she was so nervous.

Harry would be taking her to Grimmauld Place with Side-Along Apparition, but afterwards, Sarah would have to put her Apparition skills to the test. She would be attempting to Apparate by herself from Grimmauld Place into the London alleyway along Charing Cross Road, near the Leaky Cauldron. She had proven quite adept at Apparating along short, visible distances, but she had not yet tried to Apparate any significant distance on her own. As nervous as she was, she realized that she could not truly learn without at least trying.

Sarah jerked back to reality with a slight start when there came a few light knocks on her door. She stood immediately, snatching up her Gryffindor scarf which had been sitting folded neatly next to her.

She was wearing her usual Gryffindor-robes-with-Muggle-clothing-underneath, plus her hiking boots, which had recently become more appropriate than ever with the fresh covering of snow upon the ground. Over her robes she was also wearing a warm and heavy traveling cloak for use in the cold. Snape had practically forced it upon her the other afternoon when, during his frequent and discreet observations of her daily activities with her friends, he spied her coming in from a snowy Hogsmeade, dressed none-too-warmly for his taste. Before leaving her next lesson with him, which had been followed closely by some more of their extracurricular studies, he had insisted that she take it with her, and also that she promise to wear it when she next ventured out into the cold. Sarah, of course, had no choice but to comply with his stern wishes. She rather liked that he seemed to care about her so deeply in so many ways.

Their relationship, while still not formally defined, was a very intimate one. It gradually and wordlessly came to be accepted that she belonged to him, and vice versa. Their lessons together, while still productive and educational to Sarah, had taken on a much more casual feeling, and they were frequently followed by physical intimacy.

Recently, Snape had been inventing excuses to see her during the day, or had at least taken to skulking in the general vicinity of her present location at any given moment. On the same token, Sarah had been inventing excuses of her own to spend time in the dungeons on weekends in order to do some 'extra studying'. She knew that he wished to be near her, but that he was also extremely jealous of her friends, particularly the young men that she would spend time with. Draco, who was also still conducting his own secret friendship with Sarah, seemed to pop out of empty corridors or classrooms just as frequently as Snape would when she happened to be walking alone. Snape, although finding it difficult not to, did not interfere with these occasional meetings. It wouldn't do for Draco to begin suspecting something were going on between them. Still, in public, she was still 'Miss Garrend', and he was still 'Professor Snape'. Behind closed doors, however, it was a completely different story. They had so far done a very good job of concealing it. No one, aside from those select few who knew of the relationship, suspected anything.

Scarf in hand, Sarah approached the door. Before opening it, she draped it over her shoulders but left it hanging loose. Harry stood waiting for her in the doorway, dressed in almost identical attire, although his winter cloak was more of a grayish color than the solid black one adorning Sarah. He didn't have to ask to know who the cloak actually belonged to. To anyone else who inquired, Sarah would always explain how she preferred her cloaks to be a bit over-sized, even though the cloak qualified as much more than a bit so. Harry gave her a small smile.

"Ready to go?" he asked, stepping aside into the corridor and allowing Sarah to exit her room.

She took a deep, shaky breath.

"I guess so," she said, stepping out into the corridor and shutting her door softly behind her. As the pair walked off down the hall, the ornately-carved wooden door melted seamlessly back into the stone wall.

Sarah's hands were shoved deep into her robe pockets as they walked along, and she seemed to be staring blankly straight ahead.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked, looking her over as they walked.

Sarah didn't hesitate for a moment before beginning to gush about her worries.

"What if I splinch myself really badly!" she exclaimed, grasping both of her arms across her chest in a hugging gesture as if she were afraid she would be parted from one of them. "What if I end up in the wrong place, way off course! What if I--,"

"Easy, easy!" Harry quieted her, smirking, and chuckling softly. "None of that is going to happen! You're brilliant at it, remember? You learned how to Apparate yourself into that hoop much faster than I did, and you've only ever splinched minor things! Besides, it's not that far to begin with. They're both in London, aren't they?"

"Yeah," Sarah admitted uneasily, realizing that she was only going to be Apparating at most a couple miles instead of an entire country, which it had seemed like to her.

"It will be just like Apparating from one end of Hogsmeade to the other," Harry assured her, quickly glancing around as they turned a corner to be sure that their current topic of conversation could continue. "You've done that already. You'll be absolutely fine, I promise."

"But what if I--," Sarah pressed, but Harry cut her off.

"You've got to stop worrying about it so much," he told her, "Or you'll be so worried that you'll distract yourself when you actually try it. You just have to not think about it. Just let it happen."

Sarah did not reply. Instead, she grimaced as she imagined splinching herself into a different part of London than was her intended target. Glancing over at her, Harry saw her anguished facial expression, and knew what she was most likely thinking about. He could not help but laugh.

"You weren't this nervous the first time you tried to fly a broom," Harry said with a smile.

"The first time I tried to fly a broom," Sarah began dryly, "I wasn't overly concerned about having random limbs severed. Although, on second thought, maybe I should have been. Just look what happened," she said, absently rubbing the side of her neck in remembrance of the painful bludger hit and her subsequent fall to the ground.

Harry chuckled again.

"Stop worrying so much," he assured her. "You'll be fine, I'll be Apparating right after you."

"Good, I'll need someone to gather up all my dissected limbs for reattachment," said Sarah, looking a bit pale. "If they even end up there in the first place. I'll probably just skip the middleman and fall apart right on the spot without actually going anywhere."

Harry laughed aloud.

"Now you're just being overly dramatic," he said, giving her a couple pats on the back as they neared the corridor where the entrance to the Headmaster's tower lay. "But if that is indeed the case, St. Mungo's is right there in London too, so we'll be right close by."

"Thank goodness," Sarah said sarcastically.

As they proceeded down to the end of the next corridor, they found the door to the Headmaster's tower open, and that the spiral staircase had already ascended to its height to grant them access.

"I already let Professor McGonagall know we would be coming by this afternoon," said Harry, explaining the probable reason for the door to be open in such a manner.

Sarah nodded, following Harry up the narrow staircase until they reached the top. The wooden door facing them was closed, but Harry's arm immediately stretched out for the handle.

"Shouldn't we--," Sarah began, but Harry cut her off.

"She'll know we're here," he said, not waiting for Sarah to finish her sentence.

When the door creaked open and she and Harry had stepped inside, Harry realized that they had just practically barged into the room when he saw that they were not its only visitors.

Standing before the Headmaster's desk was Snape, whose head was turned toward the intrusion at the door. When his eyes fell upon Harry, they narrowed slightly, and his expression darkened a bit more when he saw Sarah stumble in behind him. Both Sarah and Harry looked equally embarrassed. Professor McGonagall was sitting at the desk, the surface of which was littered with many disorganized-looking stacks of parchment. Everything within the office was silent for a few agonizing moments before someone finally spoke.

"Usually," said Snape, "It is customary to knock before entering someone's professional quarters."

Harry, without risking a glance at Snape, spoke directly to McGonagall.

"I'm sorry, Professor," he began immediately, gesturing toward the door and staircase behind him, "The staircase was-- I thought perhaps you were expecting us already."

"Indeed I was, Mister Potter, but Professor Snape is correct. Usually it is customary to knock," McGonagall replied, but her tone was not overly harsh.

"We can come back, Professor, I'm sorry," Harry continued to rattle off.

"It's quite alright Mister Potter, you did let me know ahead of time that you would be coming," said McGonagall. "What can I do for you?"

Harry swallowed hard and took several steps closer to the desk at which the Headmistress sat. Sarah followed after him. Somehow, Snape's presence in the room was making Harry extremely nervous in asking permission to show Sarah his home so that she could decide if she would like to stay there for the holidays. Thus far, he had been lucky not to run afoul of him in regards to his friendship with her. Even though he knew that there were a pair of sharp, black eyes boring into him, Harry was terribly careful not to meet them; if he did, he might run the risk of Snape somehow finding out that he knew of the goings-on between he and Sarah.

Sarah, blushing slightly, was also making an effort not to look at Snape for similar reasons. If she did, perhaps Professor McGonagall might somehow notice something.

"I was wondering, Professor," Harry began, in most polite-sounding tone, "If I might have permission to take Sarah to Grimmauld Place this afternoon. I want her to see it so she can decide if she'd like to come and stay for the holidays instead of staying in the castle."

McGonagall considered Harry and Sarah for a few moments; any reservations she might have had about continually granting the pair permission to leave the school grounds unsupervised was already overcome by the thought of the girl having to spend the holidays alone in the castle.

"Very well, Mister Potter, Miss Garrend, you may go," she told them. "Is that all?"

As Harry spoke to Professor McGonagall, Sarah's eyes trailed upwards to the large portrait hanging over the Headmaster's desk. There, the same old man with the long silver beard and half-moon-shaped spectacles was looking down at her, his piercing blue eyes giving her the sensation of being x-rayed.

She smiled up at him, and he smiled back down at her warmly. After she looked away, the old man's gaze shifted from Sarah to Snape and back again. Sarah would have absolutely no way of knowing just how much this clever old man had guessed in the past few seconds. Her overlarge, solid black traveling cloak, which seemed so out-of-character for a girl with such a warm smile, combined with her slight blush and obvious efforts not to look anywhere near Professor Snape, had given him a thousand clues. Perhaps he really could x-ray people with those eyes of his.

"Yes, Professor, that's all," Harry said quickly. "Thank you, Professor. Sorry again."

Harry and Sarah quickly turned to leave. As he turned, Harry caught Snape's eye for just a moment.

When they had exited the office, Harry made sure to shut the door tightly behind them. Both of them hurried down the spiral staircase and out into the corridor. As soon as they had left it, the staircase began to rumble its way back down into its resting position. When they were a safe distance away, Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"He didn't look too happy about that, did he?" said Harry, beginning to take Sarah along the route that would lead them outside the castle where they could leave the grounds now that they had permission to. "He probably doesn't fancy you hanging around with me, let alone you staying with me for the holidays."

Sarah snorted in a humorous way.

"Of course he doesn't," she said. "I've told him that we're just friends, but he has a bit of a jealous streak."

"A bit?" Harry repeated, laughing a little. He knew just how deeply that bit of a jealous streak ran; it had caused Snape to hate him from the very moment he came into existence. After all, Harry was living, breathing proof of Lily's preference for another man.

"I'll probably be hearing about it later," Sarah sighed.

Upon leaving the castle, both of them wrapped their scarves and cloaks closely about themselves to fend off the cold. Leaving two trails of footprints behind them in the snow, they trudged their way down the lawns until they reached the edge of the grounds. When they were a small, safe distance into the Forbidden Forest, Harry stopped and turned to Sarah. He quickly realized that she looked extremely unhappy to have ventured back within the trees where she had encountered the herd of angry Centaurs.

"I'm sorry, I forgot that you were afraid to come in here. Ready to go, then?" he asked, extending an arm to her.

Sarah nodded, locking her arm tightly in his.

A moment later, Harry turned on the spot, pulling both of them into that sensation of crushing blackness. Not even a moment later, they rematerialized on a quiet, unassuming street lined with housing. There was a light dusting of snow that had settled here too. Sarah glanced up and down the street interestedly, but quickly hurried after Harry when she realized that he was already more than halfway across the street. As she drew closer to the row of terraced homes, the strangest thing happened; another home seemed to spring into existence between Number Eleven and Number Thirteen, which she had previously not seen. She stopped in her tracks. Harry was already climbing the front stairs.

Tapping the door with his wand so it would begin unlocking itself, he turned back to Sarah who was standing dumbstruck on the sidewalk.

"What is it?" he asked.

Sarah, who had her neck craned up at the newly-appeared house before her, slowly approached the front steps.

"Don't Muggles sort of notice that?" she asked, looking back to Harry.

"It's invisible to them," Harry explained, "They don't see it. They just think there was a numbering mistake, and that Number Eleven is next to Number Thirteen."

"So this is Number Twelve, then?" asked Sarah.

"Yep," said Harry, "Welcome to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place."

With this, Harry turned the door handle and stepped inside.

The house was looking better than it ever had. Because of Kreacher's metamorphosis, the house had also undergone significant change, even after the house had become spotless immediately following Kreacher's change-of-heart toward his new master. Now that the house-elf had all the time in the world to care for the home without fear of intrusion from Death Eaters, every inch was quite literally pristine. Even though the home was currently empty aside from Kreacher, the entrance hall was glowingly lit. When Harry closed the door behind them, he realized that the home felt so cozy and warm that every single fireplace must be going.

Sarah was examining the ornately decorated hall when Kreacher approached them. He was wearing a fluffy white towel and looking well-groomed, the large golden locket resting against his chest. Harry suspected that he probably never removed it from his person.

"Master!" the elf croaked, making a very low bow. He looked extremely happy. "Kreacher was not expecting to see you!"

"Hello, Kreacher," said Harry.

The elf then immediately began trying to take Harry's cloak for him.

"Please, Master, come in!" said the elf, still scrambling for Harry's cloak. "If you would wait just a short while, Kreacher could make some delicious--,"

"Actually, Kreacher," said Harry, gently disallowing the elf to take the cloak off of him, "We're just here to get something quickly, and then we'll be on our way."

Kreacher looked utterly crestfallen. Harry instantly felt guilty.

"Don't worry, Kreacher, we'll be back soon," he assured the elf. "We're going to be spending the holidays here. This is my friend Sarah," he said, gesturing to the long-haired girl next to him, whom the elf seemed not to have noticed.

Kreacher's eyes widened as he noticed the girl.

"Miss," he said, making a low bow.

"Nice to meet you, Kreacher," said Sarah, giving the elf a genuine smile, and making a small bow to him in return. Harry smiled inwardly, thinking silently to himself that Sarah probably would not have been so pleased to meet the former Kreacher.

"Ron, Hermione, and Ginny will be coming over too, after Christmas," Harry continued, knowing that he would be giving the elf something to look forward to, and lessening his own guilt for leaving so quickly after getting his hopes up. "And Sarah and I will be coming in as soon as the holiday starts, although we have to go over to the Weasleys for Christmas." As he had continued speaking, Harry noticed how Kreacher's eyes gradually lit up. They were now very wide, and filled with excitement. He would finally be having people in the house again.

"That is wonderful, Master, wonderful!" the elf proclaimed, making another bow so low that the tip of his nose touched the rug. "Kreacher is so glad to hear! Kreacher will have to start getting ready!"

Sarah and Harry both watched amusedly as the elf hurried off, rambling away about all the additional preparations he would have to make before having guests in the house. What these additional preparations might be, they had no idea; the house seemed perfect and welcoming as it was.

"He's wonderful," Sarah said, smiling at Harry.

Harry smirked a little, but it quickly turned into a smile.

"He's something," Harry said, but what this something might be, he did not say. "This way."

Harry led Sarah upstairs. Along the way, Sarah's eyes were glued to the walls, inspecting the many portraits and plaques which lined them. She was disappointed when Harry directed her inside a doorway, but reminded herself that she would have plenty of time to examine all of the house's interesting artifacts when she came to stay for the holidays which, after all, were not far off.

Sarah followed Harry inside the study. Just as Harry had guessed, the fireplace here was roaring, filling the room with its warmth. Harry approached the display case against the wall, and Sarah came to stand beside him. Her brow furrowed when she first looked inside of it; it was empty. When she tilted her head upward, however, she gasped. Sitting atop the very same display case which had once housed Slytherin's locket, sat a magnificent shining silver, ruby-encrusted sword. It was housed in a rectangular glass case with a wooden base. Its hilt glinted brilliantly in the firelight, and its blade gleamed. Sarah was awestruck by it. She had never seen anything that looked so beautiful and so fierce at the same time. It looked like a priceless ornament, but she knew that it possessed the capability to destroy powerful, magical things.

As Sarah continued to stare at it in wonder, Harry reached up to it, placing a hand on each side of its case. Very carefully, he lifted it off of the display case and took a couple steps back, kneeling very slowly on the floor. He then gently placed the display case down and lifted its glass exterior away from its base. Sarah continued watching the sword, marveling at how the light of the fire danced on the countless facets of its rubies. Casually, Harry grabbed by the very topmost part of its its hilt and lifted it free of its case. He then held it out to Sarah, offering her the bottom of the hilt.

"Here," he said, "Take it."

Sarah's eyes widened.

"I can touch it?" she asked. "What if I drop it?"

Harry laughed.

"I don't think there's anything you could do to this sword to damage it it any way. Here," he insisted, holding the sword closer to her so that she could take it. "Hold it while I find something that we can put it in. We can't walk down Diagon Alley waving that thing around without catching some eyes."

"I would think not," said Sarah, carefully reaching out and wrapping her right hand around the bottom of the sword's hilt. When she held it securely, Harry let go, and Sarah grasped the hilt tightly with both hands as if she were afraid of dropping it.

Harry stepped back, giving her an appraising nod.

"It looks good on you," he joked.

"I feel like I should be wearing surgical gloves or something," she said, "I don't want to tarnish it."

"It's goblin-made, you won't tarnish it," said Harry, "Trust me. Wait here while I get something."

Harry left the room, leaving Sarah holding the sword of Gryffindor. Even as she held it, she continued to admire it. It felt much lighter than a sword of its size would normally feel, she thought. She doubted she had ever touched anything so valuable in her entire life. Even though Harry had assured her that she could not possibly break it or tarnish it, she was still relieved when he returned to the room carrying an armful of course-looking linens. Resting atop the linens there appeared to be a length of string which would be used to tie up parcels.

"We'll wrap it in these," he said, dropping the linens and the string to the floor and kneeling beside them, fanning them out. "People might think it'll be broomstick parts or something."

"Alright," Sarah nodded.

Once Harry had fully laid out one of the linens, Sarah carefully placed the sword down at one end of it. Harry then carefully wrapped the sword in the entire length of linen, making sure it as as tight as he could get it. Just to be safe, he wrapped an additional linen around the first. Then, after the sword was tightly wrapped and fully concealed, he and Sarah began tying up the parcel strings to insure that the linens would not come unwrapped.

"There," said Harry, leaning back on his heels and inspecting their finished work, "That looks pretty unassuming, doesn't it?"

Sarah nodded in agreement.

"I wouldn't ever guess that a priceless, ruby-soaked artifact was wrapped in a couple of old towels unless I had seen it myself," she said.

"You carry it," said Harry, rising to his feet. "There's always a chance that people might recognize me in passing, and I don't want them to wonder what Harry Potter is carrying around in a mysterious parcel."

Nodding, Sarah carefully picked up the wrapped sword as she stood, resting it across her outstretched forearms. Then, they both left the study and began heading back down into the entrance hall. Sarah realized she would be glad to step back out into the cold; during the short time they had spent inside the fireplace-filled home while wearing their robes, cloaks, and scarves, its welcoming heat had begun to feel practically tropical.

"We're not actually going to give this to him right now, are we?" asked Sarah as the descended the stairs, eyeing the course linens in her arms and remembering priceless the splendor which lay hidden underneath.

"No, we're not going to give it to him just yet," Harry explained, "But I'm fairly sure we'll need it in order to get his help. He'll have to see that we actually have it. Whether or not he really thinks he'll get to keep it this time is another story, one that I hope he believes."

When the reality of what was going to happen hit her, Sarah froze on the stairs, standing on a single step. Harry was going to just give this priceless artifact away as if it was worth nothing, all for her sake?

"Harry, do you really want to do this?" she asked, her expression serious. Harry stopped his downward progress and halted himself to look at her, his hand still resting on the railing.

"What do you mean?" he asked, confused.

"You're going to give this away, Harry," Sarah explained. "Plain old give it away, just for my sake?"

Harry blinked. Apparently Sarah was now having reservations about their plan to use the sword as a bribe now that she had actually seen it with her own eyes.

"Of course I am," he replied. "You think I wouldn't give it away because it's worth so much?"

Sarah swallowed. She had never met someone so ready and so willing to freely give of himself, in so many ways, for the sake of his friends. She felt a pang inside her chest when she realized, too, that he had once willingly tried to sacrifice his very life for everyone he loved. Hotness began to sting the corners of her eyes, and she blinked away a couple tears before they could fully develop.

"Some things you can put a price on," Harry continued, "But other things, you can't. Don't you want to know what's hidden in that vault? Don't you want to know if your name is written on it? Don't you want to know why?" He, after all, would have gladly given away ten swords of Gryffindor, or a thousand, to know the entire truth behind the events of his life for so many years. He knew the whole truth now; he believed that Sarah deserved to know what might be the whole truth about herself, too.

"Thank you, Harry," she said softly, blinking again. This time, a couple tears rolled down her cheeks. Holding the wrapped sword with one arm for a moment, she wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her robe.

Harry smiled warmly at her.

"It's nothing," he said, continuing down the stairs. Sarah followed after him, and he heard her sniffle slightly behind him.

As they neared the front door, they could clearly hear pots and pans busily banging away in the basement kitchen. Kreacher was already feverishly preparing for their stay over the holidays.

"See you soon, Kreacher!" Harry yelled toward the kitchen as he opened the front door. The elf yelled something back in reply, but the only word discernible amidst the clanging kitchenware was 'Master'. With a chuckle, Harry and Sarah left the house, standing on the snow-covered front step.

Sarah looked to Harry, wondering why he didn't continue on down the steps into the street. He looked back at her, his expression normal.

"It's safe to Disapparate from here," he explained. "No one can see us."

Sarah swallowed hard. Harry's fascinating home, kindly house-elf, and seeing the beautiful sword of Gryffindor had distracted her from her nervousness about her first solo Apparition. He noticed as she paled visibly.

"It'll be alright," he assured her again, "You've got to try sometime."

Sarah took a deep, shaky breath.

"Are you sure you want me to hold the sword while doing it?" she asked, sounding uncertain. "What if I end up in the wrong place, and--,"

"You hold onto it," Harry said, smiling, "After all, it's Gryffindor's sword, isn't it? It'll give you courage. Besides, it's some extra motivation. You've got to get that sword safely to Diagon Alley somehow, right?"

"I guess so," Sarah reluctantly agreed, but she still sounded extremely uncertain.

"Just relax," Harry told her, stepping aside to give her a bit more room for her own comfort, "It's just like before. Clearly picture the place where you want to go, and then step into that wonky feeling of nothingness. You'll be there before you even know it. I'll be right behind you."

Taking Harry's words to heart, Sarah took another deep breath. Then, hugging the wrapped sword closely to her body as if she were afraid to lose it en route, she closed her eyes. A moment later, when she was certain that she couldn't possibly picture the small London alleyway on Charing Cross any more vividly, she took another deep breath. Holding it, she turned on the spot, stepping forward into the crushing blackness. Harry watched her disappear from the step with a faint pop.

She was relieved when she felt the familiar sensations of Apparition, just like when she had been practicing in Hogsmeade. She was at once certain that she had managed to Disapparate. She just hoped she would end up in the right place.

Only an instant later, she felt her lungs expand mercifully. Eyes still shut tight, she exhaled the breath she had been holding and began breathing normally again. She squeezed the wrapped sword with her arms; it was still there. She didn't feel any pain or feel as if she was missing something, so she hadn't splinched. Slowly opening her eyes, she could not help but smile widely when she immediately recognized her surroundings as her target destination. She had reached the small alleyway along Charing Cross Road.

A few seconds later, there came a faint crack from behind her. She wheeled around to see Harry had appeared, and he was already smiling at her.

"You've done it!" Harry exclaimed, taking in Sarah's obvious state of sheer elation. If she had splinched at all, she probably would not look quite as happy as she did. "Didn't I tell you? Brilliant, well done!"

"I did have some good teachers," Sarah beamed.

Upon leaving the alleyway, the pair discovered that London was just as gray and chilly as it always seemed to be. The same light dusting of snow which had been present at Grimmauld Place was present here as well, but the steady foot traffic of the busier London streets had already cleared wide walking paths on the pavement of the sidewalks. As they walked along, Sarah continued hugging the wrapped sword tightly to her person as if she were trying to hide it from view entirely. If they passed by any Muggles, Sarah hugged the sword even tighter and eyed them suspiciously, making sure that they were not doing the same to her.

When they finally reached Diagon Alley, Sarah felt a bit more at ease. It would probably be slightly less strange, she imagined, to be spotted carrying an ancient, priceless, goblin-made sword down the street here than in the middle of Muggle London. She relaxed her hold on the sword as they proceeded down toward the end of the street where Gringotts lay, letting the the wrapped package rest across the crooks of her arms. The street was fairly quiet for a Friday afternoon; it was already late enough for the lunch crowds to have cleared out, but not yet late enough for people freshly off of work for the weekend to start coming out to the shops and pubs.

Neither of them said a word as they drew closer and closer to the enormous snowy white building looming at the end of the street. Sarah could sense that Harry was deep in thought about what exactly he was going to say in order to make this a successful bargain. Dealing with goblins, as he had told her, was very serious. As they scaled the bank's marble steps, she was fairly nervous.

As they entered the large bank hall, Harry stopped, and Sarah stopped alongside him. The bank was just as impressive as it had been on her previous visits; counters lined with tellers stretched out along either side of the shining marble floor. She had her head tilted up at the high, vaulted ceiling as Harry scanned the teller windows on both sides of the bank. Fortunately the bank did not seem to be very busy this afternoon. When he had located their person of interest, who was currently serving a very tall bearded wizard wearing a top hat, he nudged Sarah gently.

"There he is," he said softly to her. Sarah looked to him and nodded.

Together they proceeded forward, coming to stand behind the tall bearded wizard who Griphook was currently dealing with. Sarah once again hugged the sword to her form protectively. Harry was making it a point to face away from the counter so that he would not be spotted prematurely. If Griphook were to see just exactly who his next customer was before it was even Harry's turn to be served, there might be problems. Sarah glanced at him nervously, but Harry was trying to appear as casual and nonchalant as possible and did not return her look.

A few minutes later, it was time.

"Thank you," they heard the tall bearded wizard say, nodding to the goblin before him. He then gathered up his belongings and stepped away from the counter.

When the wizard had left, Harry slowly took a couple steps backwards toward the counter, not yet revealing his identity.

"Good afternoon, sir, how may I--?" Griphook began, his expression neutral. Before he could finish his sentence, Harry turned around to face him. His expression darkened dangerously when he saw who it was standing before him.

Sarah followed Harry, approaching the counter cautiously, a bit frightened by the goblin's sudden dangerous change in demeanor.

"Harry Potter," the goblin spat out tersely, his lips tight. He then glanced nervously to either side of him, making sure that none of his colleagues were within earshot. His previous dealings with Harry had to remain completely secret. It would be disastrous for him in many ways if it were to be discovered that he helped to engineer the bank's break-in fiasco earlier in the year. He had only barely managed to cover himself up and return to his job as it was.

"Griphook, I need speak with you," Harry said, his tone even and stern. It sounded like more of a demand than a request.

He was met with a snarl from the goblin.

"Absolutely not!" the goblin spat, his expression severe, "What do you wish to do, expose me and what I've done to the goblin community? I will have no further dealings with you, Harry Potter!"

During his heated exchange with Harry, the goblin had not so much as glanced to the girl standing next to him at the counter who was holding what looked to be a very long package. Harry took a deep, steadying breath, and then, without saying another word to Griphook, he looked to Sarah.

Sarah looked back at him eyes wide, and saw him give her a tiny nod. Griphook, having now taken notice of the girl and her silent communication with Harry, affixed his eyes to her with a sort of impatient interest. Without needing any explanation whatsoever from Harry, Sarah, aware of Griphook's eyes on her, brought the wrapped package up in front of her. Gripping the wrapped blade tightly with her left hand, she gently pushed up the linen surrounding the hilt, offering the goblin a glimpse of its ruby-encrusted beauty.

Griphook's eyes, which had been ablaze with anger, were now alight with greed. He leaned forward, and for a moment, Harry protectively stepped closer to Sarah for fear that Griphook may reach out and try to take it from her.

After only an instant, Sarah once again concealed the sword's hilt, and hugged its wrapped form to her protectively. Griphook's expression of unadulterated greed instantly melted back into one of rage even more intense than before.

"How dare you!" Griphook spat. He was extremely upset, but he could do little more than stew quietly in his own anger or risk drawing the attention of his colleagues. "That belongs to me!" he said, but it was a strangled whisper.

"Yet it would appear that it is in my possession, not yours," Harry stated. Griphook was radiating intense waves of anger directly at Harry, but Harry did not budge. Instead, he returned Griphook's snarl with a steely stare full of determination. His demand was floating wordlessly between them.

Sarah was frightened. Although Harry looked completely calm, Sarah saw that his right hand had slowly and imperceptibly inched toward the robe pocket where his wand lay.

"The nerve," Griphook seethed, still glaring at Harry. Every few seconds, however, his eyes would noticeably dart to glance at the nondescript package held securely in the girl's arms.

"Fine!" Griphook said at last. He then quickly reached inside a breast pocket and withdrew a small slip of paper. "Meet me here in an hour when my shift is up!" He thrust the small slip of paper onto the counter before Harry. Without another word, he hopped off of his teller's stool, his short stature causing him to vanish from view entirely.

Harry quickly snatched up the small slip of paper and pocketed it. He stepped away from the counter and headed for the doors, and Sarah followed after him, gripping the wrapped sword tightly. As they went, both of them looked warily at the tellers on either side of the bank hall. No one was regarding them strangely or paying them any extra mind; it seemed that even though they had a bit of an exchange with Griphook, they hadn't attracted any unwanted attention.

When they reached the bottom of the bank's steps back onto the street outside, both of them breathed large sighs of relief.

"Well, that went about as well as we could have hoped for, I think," said Harry, reaching inside his robe pocket to retrieve the small slip of paper which Griphook had given him.

"Are you kidding?" said Sarah, looking back up the steps toward the bank's door, "I thought he was going to kill you."

"Me too," said Harry, examining the small slip of paper. "Let's not put that notion entirely out of mind for the moment."

"Where does he want us to meet him?" asked Sarah, leaning toward Harry in an attempt to read what was written on the slip. When she got a closer look, she could see that it resembled a Muggle business card. The lettering was in red and black, and there was a small, fire-breathing creature depicted on it.

"The Chimera's Breath Tavern, apparently," said Harry, showing her the card. "In Knockturn Alley."

"Sounds lovely," Sarah said wryly.

"Probably about as lovely as Griphook," Harry groused, slipping the small card back in his pocket. "Let's go."

Directing Sarah toward a dark, nearby side street which lead away from Diagon Alley, they entered Knockturn Alley.


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Sarah found Knockturn Alley to be as dark, dingy, and frightening as Harry had on his first accidental visit. It seemed to have its own aura of darkness emanating from it, shrouding it in shadow no matter how brightly the sun was shining. Even though the sun was not shining on this particular day, Knockturn Alley was still markedly darker in light, as well as atmosphere, than Diagon Alley had been. It was full of seedy looking pubs and seedier looking people. When they first ventured inside, Sarah walked so closely to Harry that they almost tripped several times, and she hugged the sword to her person so protectively that she thought her arms may have gone numb.

They found the Chimera's Breath easily enough on the Alley's main thoroughfare. Before stepping inside, Harry wordlessly grabbed the hood of Sarah's traveling cloak and pulled it over her head. She looked at him quizzically from underneath it, watching as he pulled up his own hood as well.

"Don't need any Prophet headlines about 'Harry Potter and friend spotted in infamous Knockturn Alley pub', do we?" he explained.

"Good point," she said, watching as he slowly pushed open the door. Only after he had fully stepped inside did she follow after him.

The pub was dark, but not completely empty. There were three men sitting at a table somewhat close to the bar, conversing in hushed tones. Another figure, who was completely cloaked, sat at the bar, taking a long swig out of a large tankard. The barkeep, Harry thought, made Tom, the wizened landlord of the Leaky Cauldron, look like Gilderoy Lockhart in comparison. They quickly moved along over to a small table, the furthest away from the bar, and the furthest away from the door.

When the barkeep came over a few minutes later to ask what they would like, both of them kept their hoods pulled down extremely low. Harry, in a falsely gruff-sounding voice, requested two large versions of the most potently alcoholic beverage in the house. With a nod, the barkeep left them. Sarah immediately looked to Harry.

"It's not even dinnertime yet," she whispered, "Do you really want to get drunk?"

Harry shook his head underneath his hood. Even under its concealment, combined with the darkness of the pub, Sarah could tell that he was smiling.

"We can't look like a couple of tarts sipping butterbeer," he whispered back, "This isn't the Three Broomsticks. People would stare."

"Oh, right," said Sarah. She then began to discreetly inspect the other patrons from underneath the safety of her hood.

The three men sitting at the table near the bar, she noticed, all looked a little strange. Even in the darkness, from what she could tell, their skin bore a distinctly grayish tint, and their eyes seemed to gleam with an otherworldly luster. Their beverages looked like something suspiciously similar to tomato juice.

"Those guys look like vampires or something," she observed jokingly to Harry, her voice a whisper.

Harry looked over, inspecting the three men.

"They probably are," he whispered back.

Sarah sat straight up in her chair and looked stiff for a while.

The hour wait until Griphook's shift would apparently be over was a long one. Sarah and Harry sat boredly at their table, their heads tilted down and their hoods pulled down low. They continued watching the other patrons. The three strange men by the bar continued conversing in hushed tones, and ordering more rounds of their thick, red drinks. A few other people came and went, but nothing noteworthy happened.

After a while, out of boredom, Harry watched as Sarah daringly took a small sip of the drink that the barkeep had brought them. The drinks were orange and slightly bubbling, poured into tall glasses. After Sarah had taken a tiny sip, her nails scraped the surface of the wooden table.

"It tastes like fire," she choked out. Although Harry could not see with her head turned down and the hood covering her face, she was grimacing and her eyes were watering.

Harry chuckled.

It was some time later when the door to the pub creaked open noisily, and someone with an obviously less-than-human stature came inside. Harry and Sarah looked up with interest. Griphook didn't even need to search around the pub in order to locate them; it was as if he could sense where the ancient goblin artifact was, and naturally gravitated to it. Without a word, he seated himself at the available chair across from them at their table. His eyes were immediately on the wrapped package, which Sarah was now holding across her lap.

"What is this about," he demanded immediately, without giving Harry or Sarah a chance to speak. Apparently, none of his anger from their confrontation in the bank had subsided. "You have something that belongs to me."

"Not exactly, no," Harry insisted.

"You cheated me out of it," the goblin snarled, "Just like every other wizard, unable to keep his word."

"I kept my word," Harry countered, "You left the bank with the sword that day."

"And afterward?" Griphook demanded, still eager to know the reasons behind the sword's sudden and inexplicable disappearance from his own possession shortly after he acquired it.

"Apparently," Harry began slowly, "The sword of Gryffindor will present itself to worthy Gryffindors who are in need of it, via the Sorting Hat." It sounded absurd, but it really was the truth. He just hoped that Griphook would believe it.

"So you gave me the sword, and then summoned it back to you!" Griphook growled, pointing a long, accusatory finger at Harry. "You were planning that from the beginning, weren't you?"

Harry shook his head in the negative.

"I didn't summon the sword," he explained, "It wasn't me, and it definitely wasn't what I was planning on having happen."

"Then who did?" Griphook demanded.

"Another Gryffindor student," Harry went on, "And it turned out to be instrumental in the final battle against Voldemort. It was used to help bring him down. You should be grateful that the sword left your possession to help put an end to him once and for all."

The goblin cringed slightly upon hearing Voldemort's name, but he remained silent. His expression of anger did not fade. Harry knew that he was probably biting back on saying something to the effect of not caring about the problems of wizards. Still, his greedy glances at the package across Sarah's lap made obvious that he still greatly desired the sword. Perhaps he feared that if he upset Harry too badly, that he would just walk away with it.

"What is it that you want, Harry Potter?" Griphook inquired at last. He looked a bit calmer now, but his voice still had an edge to it.

"I need to get into Gringotts again," Harry stated matter-of-factly.

Griphook's eyes bulged. He looked livid.

"Preposterous! Absolutely not!" Griphook shouted, banging his fist to the table. "The goblins have had enough of your thievery!"

"We'll give you the sword," said Harry, "No strings attached."

"And who is to say it won't be summoned out of my hands again!" the goblin contested.

"Voldemort is dead and gone," said Harry calmly, "You think about it. The first time I summoned the sword, I used it to kill a basilisk. The second time it was pulled out of the hat, it was used to kill Voldemort's snake. Compared to that, I doubt anyone is going to need the sword for anything anytime soon, don't you think?"

Griphook looked as if he were fighting a fierce internal battle. On one hand, helping to engineer another break-in to Gringotts could wind up getting him killed, and went against every honorable notion he had as a member of the goblin race, and as an employee of the bank. On the other hand, there was the sword of Gryffindor; a priceless, goblin-made artifact, forged by Ragnuk the First. It should not be in the hands of a wizard. The very notion of such an object belonging to wizards was repugnant. Plus, this time, it seemed as if there was somewhat of a guarantee that the sword would remain with him instead of disappearing.

Harry and Sarah watched hopefully as the goblin seemed to undergo the silent struggle.

"So let me get this straight," Griphook said at last, his tone harsh, "You intend to offer me something that already belongs to me as a bribe for my help in gaining access to the bank once again?"

The goblin gave a derisive snort. He could hardly believe what was being asked of him. The nerve of some wizards.

"That's right," Harry affirmed.

"Why," the goblin countered. It was a demand, not a question.

"We believe there is something within the Ministry's vault which pertains to my friend here," said Harry, motioning to Sarah, "And we want to find out what. Any more than that we really can't say."

"The Ministry's Vault?" Griphook repeated, sounding incredulous. "Have you a death wish, Potter?"

"Do you want the sword or not?" Harry pressed, his tone serious.

Griphook silently considered the pair on the other side of the table. The girl sitting next to Potter hadn't so much as said a word. In fact, it looked as if she were frightened of him. When she met his stare, she quickly looked away. He couldn't in good conscience consent to aiding another break-in. He shouldn't be agreeing to Potter's outrageous terms.

The Goblin's eyes suddenly narrowed at Harry as he thought more closely about what he had said.

"It was you, wasn't it," the goblin said, his voice low. His gaze shifted to Sarah, and then back to Harry. "You two broke into the Ministry back in the fall. You didn't get what you wanted, and now you want to finish the job."

Harry bit down on the side of his cheek, and Sarah shifted nervously. It was clear that Griphook was dangerously astute.

"What's to stop me from revealing you then, Harry Potter?" said Griphook lowly, his glare cold. "Revealing you unless you hand over what is truly mine."

"Probably the fact that if you did, I would reveal the inside help that I had when breaking into the bank before," replied Harry, meeting the goblin's cold stare with one of equal intensity. He hated himself for saying it, but he pressed on, "I'm a hero, remember? Who are they more likely to believe? Who is more likely to take the fall? The Chosen One? The Boy Who Lived? Or a Gringotts goblin making crazy accusations about him?"

Sarah watched as the goblin's expression soured. Harry had him beat.

After several moments of pointed silence, Harry spoke again.

"If you want the sword, Griphook, you'll have to help me again," he said. "Only this time, you'll get to keep it."

After a long pause, the goblin spoke.

"Very well," he said, but sounded none too happy about it.

Harry reached inside the pocket of his robes, withdrawing the small card which Griphook had given him earlier. Turning it over to the back where there was nothing written, Harry took out his wand and tapped the card's blank surface. The words Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place appeared on it, as if written very neatly in ink. After sliding the card across the table to the goblin, Harry wasted no time in explaining that Griphook was to call on them on the first Saturday of the school's holidays. There they would be able to plan in safety and secrecy.

After receiving his instructions, the goblin gave a curt nod and left the pub without another word. Leaving a couple galleons on the table behind them to pay for their mostly untouched drinks, Harry and Sarah left as well.

Stepping back out into Diagon Alley was like a breath of fresh air, both literally and figuratively. They then began making their way back to the Leaky Cauldron, through which they could reach the alleyway where they could Disapparate.

"That was actually a lot easier than I expected it to be," Harry said as they walked along, sounding relieved. As it was nearing suppertime, the sky was darkening significantly. Some of the street lamps were already lit.

"Do you think he'll come?" Sarah asked, eyeing the wrapped sword in her arms. "He didn't seem too happy about it."

"Any reservations he might have about doing it will be overcome by his greed, I think," Harry said, also glancing to the package, "He really wants that thing, and he'll do anything to get it. We're going to have to be careful when we deal with him again."

"I can tell," Sarah replied, "I was afraid he was going to attack you, more than once."

"Me too," Harry admitted.

Most of their apprehension about their further upcoming dealings with the goblin were forgotten when they reached the streets of Muggle London once again, and Harry suggested that Sarah attempt to Apparate back to Grimmauld Place on her own so that they could return the sword. Reluctantly taking him up on his suggestion, Sarah was thrilled when she once again succeeded at the task. Still feeling uncomfortable about Apparating so close to an area where it is prevented, Harry took her by Side-Along back to the grounds outside the school. When they neared the castle, an impromptu snowball fight broke out while they both hurried up the snow-covered lawns toward the Great Hall, and the warm supper and friends that were awaiting them.


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A/N: There you have chapter 20! I hope you enjoyed it. Harry and Sarah are treading on some thin ice with Griphook there! I will try to put out another chapter relatively soon, and it will probably start with the coming evening's confrontation between Sarah and Snape about her staying with Harry for the holidays. I was tempted to include it in this chapter, but then it would have gotten much, much longer, and I didn't have a ton of time. I was, however, planning on having this chapter usher in a rapid passage of time as I did, so we can start getting closer to all the exciting plot-related things which I have on the horizon.

Anyway, thank you for reading. Please leave a review if you would be so kind :)