HP: Night of the Wolf

Only days after Harry had returned from Germany, he found himself having been summoned to the chambers of the ICW, much to his own annoyance, and the frustration of Federov.

Both had expected that it would happen, but with the track record of how slowly they reacted to just about anything, Harry hadn't thought it would be so soon.

"So, you say that an agreement has been reached between the British, French, Germans, and Italians?" the Supreme Mugwump asked for clarification.

Harry had already given his report and was beginning to tire of repeating himself.

"Yes," he sighed.

"Then that means there will be peace amongst the muggles," the Japanese man replied satisfactorily. "Grindelwald has failed."

Harry snorted as he shook his head.

"Grindelwald was there."

The members of the ICW began murmuring amongst themselves.

"He was there?" the Supreme Mugwump pressed.

"He was acting as the German leader's translator. His explanation to me was that the breakout of war did not currently tie in with his own ambitions, which means that he is not ready to capitalise on it yet."

"Nonsense!" the Supreme Mugwump denied. "Whether he was present or not means nothing on the grand scheme of things. What I am curious of, however, is why you did not apprehend him. Is that not your job, to bring in dangerous criminals?"

"I was only to break the Statue of Secrecy should the Prime Minister's life be put in danger," Harry explained, his irritation rising. "A fight between him and I would have broken it and taken away any advantage we may have in the future. It would only have played into his hands for me to do so."

"The Serpent is correct," the American representative called, receiving nods of agreement from many of his peers.

Reluctantly, the Supreme Mugwump dropped the subject.

"And what happened when the agreement was signed?" he asked.

Harry released a deep breath, the next revelation not supporting what he knew to be true.

"The Prime Minister sought a private audience with Hitler where they signed a non-aggression pact lasting for no less than ten years."

The Supreme Mugwump nodded thoughtfully.

"At the very least, any conflict will ensure that Britain and Germany are not fighting one another."

"But I do not expect the Germans to keep to either of the agreements," Harry responded severely.

"What do you mean by that?" the Belgian representative questioned before any other could.

"The entire meeting was held only to delay the fighting. Germany will continue as they are, and eventually, the British will have to intervene, as will many other countries," Harry explained. "Hitler said clearly that he does not recognise the original treaty signed in 1919, but if he continues to break it, war is inevitable."

"But the agreement he signed states that he will not look to expand the German territories," the French representative pointed out.

"It does," Harry agreed, "but he has no intention of sticking to it. If he does, Grindelwald will ensure he doesn't. What he wants is war to breakout, but only when he is ready to take advantage of it."

"That is merely speculation on your part," the Supreme Mugwump accused. "Unless you are a seer, Mr Serpent?" he added mockingly.

"I'm no seer," Harry replied evenly, "but I was there, and I know what I saw. Grindelwald is biding his time, and you have already decided that you will recommend that no further action is taken."

"Action against what?" the Supreme Mugwump demanded. "Grindelwald may have been in attendance, but you have not reported that any magic was performed in front of the muggles. There is no proof that he used magic to interfere in the proceedings you witnessed, and there is no proof that he intends to do so. We have only your word for your claims, and we need much more than that before we would consider taking action in any form."

"Then there is nothing left to say," Harry sighed. "Grindelwald will be allowed to carry on as he is. What will it take before you do act? People are already being murdered, countries invaded and taken over. Will it have to be your own that he visits before you do something? This isn't the time for selfishness, this is the time where you show just why the ICW was formed in the first place. You are supposed to protect the interests of one another, but even with several empty seats, you do nothing."

"Careful, Serpent!" the Supreme Mugwump warned.

Harry simply snorted as he stepped off the podium and took his leave from the room.

"You did not really expect the outcome to be different, did you?" Federov asked.

Harry shook his head.

"From what I have seen so far, not really."

Federov offered him a look of sympathy.

"What will you do now?" he asked.

"I will do my job," Harry answered simply. "I do still have a certain robber to catch. If the ICW won't act, there's nothing more that I can do until they get off their arses."

"I think that would be for the best," Federov agreed. "It would not do to find yourself in their bad graces."

"Not when they're already in mine," Harry mumbled.

"You can't take this personally, Evans," Federov whispered.

"I'm not, but there's more to it than them refusing to help."

"What do you mean?"

Harry shot a cursory glance around the corridor to ensure they were alone.

"Because one of them in there was at that meeting."

"The one between the muggles?"

Harry nodded severely.

"I don't know who, but there is someone in that room whose magic I felt when I arrived," he revealed. "It wasn't ambient magic either. They were somewhere in that building."

Federov's jaw tightened as he took Harry by the forearm.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Completely," Harry answered. "One of them was there, Federov. At the very least, Grindelwald has a man on the inside of the ICW."

Federov shook his head.

"Then leave it to me. I will do all I can to work out who it is, but in the meantime, I will take extra security measures," he assured the young man. "Firstly, I need to empty the archive of files pertaining to the Hit-Wizards. None other than me should be able to access them, but I would not risk leaving them here. It would put you all in considerable peril."

"What do you need me to do?"

"I need you to get back to work, Evans," Federov instructed. "I will handle this matter. Do not mention this to anyone."

With that, the man hurried off, and Harry took his leave of the ICW headquarters.

He had a bank to revisit in Madrid, and from there, he would see if he could pick up the trail of this robber elsewhere. He had yet to investigate all the previously targeted banks, and though he did not expect to find anything useful, it would be foolish not to on the off chance he just might.

(Break)

It was with a grim expression that Gellert looked upon the Black siblings that he had summoned to his quarters. The two of them had been working well to train the troops that Perseus had gathered since Cassiopeia had returned, and still, their numbers grew each day with more arrivals.

It was not their current undertaking he wished to discuss with them, however, but the meeting he had attended in Munich.

For the most part, he was pleased with what had transpired. The muggles had come to agreeable terms, and the need for conflict between them had been temporarily avoided as planned.

He had left Germany content, and with the knowledge that he yet had more time to put his own plans into motion.

That was until he was informed of the further meeting between the German and British leader.

A non-aggression pact lasting for no less than ten years was not something he had anticipated. A smart move on the part of Chamberlain, but one that simply would not do.

At most, Gellert needed a year to finish his own preparations, and Britain throwing itself into the coming conflict was key to his success.

He would need to move to nullify the latest agreement if the Germans did not do it themselves in the interim.

Although this could prove to be a setback of sorts if not manipulated correctly, it was not the muggles that were occupying his thoughts.

No, that honour fell to a single man he had made the acquaintance of during the proceedings.

"I asked you both here for your knowledge on the Smith family in England," he explained to the Blacks.

Perseus frowned thoughtfully whilst Cassiopeia giggled.

"The Smiths? They are little more than boasters whose only claim to anything worthwhile is that they are descendants of Helga Hufflepuff," the latter explained. "They are of no consequence to anyone. Why do you ask?"

"Because I met one of them. A younger man than yourselves, I believe, who acted as the British Prime Minister's translator during the meeting. Strikingly Blonde-haired, and blue-eyed. His name was Gordon. Is it possible that he is a relative of theirs?"

"It is," Perseus answered hesitantly, "but Smith is perhaps the most common name in England. There is a dozen or so mudbloods that carry that name. It's more likely that he is one of them. I wouldn't pretend to be all too familiar with the wizarding family, but I'm certain they're not blondes. Only the Malfoys and some of the Greengrasses are strikingly blonde as you described."

Gellert hummed to himself.

"Why are you so interested in him?" Cassiopeia asked curiously.

"Because there was something quite unsettling about him," Gellert admitted. "He knew who I was, and yet, there was no fear emanating from him. He even had the gall to use legilimency on me. I can't be sure if that was intentional, but I definitely felt it."

"Well, then he should be easy to find," Cassiopeia declared. "Legilimency is a regulated art in Britain and anyone who is taught has to register as a practitioner. There are ways around that, but only to purebloods. If he is related to the wizarding family, he'd be easy enough to trace. You'd only need to visit Hepzibah the Heifer. She will brag about anything to make her family look good. If he is one of them, she would just tell you."

"And if he is not a pureblood, he would be on the register," Gellert murmured. "My apologies, but who is Hepzibah the Heifer?"

Both the Black siblings laughed at the question.

"She is a Smith, and a very wealthy one too," Perseus explained. "She's well-known because she's too overweight to get off her own sofa without the help of her elf. I remember she would write to the ladies of the bigger families to have them over for tea so she could brag to them. She invited mother over a few times a year."

"Interesting," Gellert mused aloud. "Do you think she would be amenable to sharing tea with the daughter of an old friend?"

"She would," Perseus replied before Cassiopeia could.

"Then it seems that you will be returning to Britain sooner than expected," Gellert explained to the woman, who did not appear to be pleased by the revelation. "I want this Smith found, if the man I met indeed gave his true name. You will begin by visiting this Heifer."

"If he gave his true name?" Cassiopeia questioned.

Gellert nodded.

"Although I cannot be certain, I believe the man is the same one that Gaulitier spent days trying to lure into a trap."

"The Serpent?" Perseus gasped.

"Indeed."

"Then why would he have given his real name to attend the meeting?" Cassiopeia pressed.

"Because, my dear, he did not expect me to be there. Do you think your Minister of Magic would allow someone with a false name to be involved with something so important?"

"Not likely," Perseus declared, though Cassiopeia did not seem to agree. "At the very least, it means that the Minister does know who he is, and likely the ambassador to muggle relations."

"That is my line of thinking, Perseus," Gellert replied. "If this Smith is not The Serpent, then we have lost nothing from this venture."

"And if he is?" Cassiopeia asked.

"Then you may kill him for all I care," Gellert said dismissively.

The offer brought a bright smile to the woman's face.

"I will leave immediately then," she said excitedly, hurrying from the room.

Gellert grinned fondly at her retreating form.

"Do you not think that is risky?" Perseus asked. "The Serpent has already proven that he is dangerous. Should she not take people with her, just in case?"

"Your sister will ask for help if she needs it," Gellert assured the young man. "I think that you are underestimating her ability, Perseus. She is as talented as any other I have met, and she has spent much time under my own tutelage. I have faith that she will fare well."

Perseus nodded his understanding.

"Then I will return to my own task," he announced. "I oversaw father's treatment this morning, and he seems to be doing well. He even came to see our forces, and that cheered him up."

"I am pleased to hear it," Gellert replied sincerely.

It was sad to see a man of the calibre of Orion Black deteriorating the way he was, and the effect it was having on his children.

Although Cassiopeia would not admit it, she thought highly of her father, and seeing him in such a state was unpleasant for the woman.

Were it not for the pressing issue of finding this Gordon Smith, he would not send her away from the man who seemed to have perked up considerably since she'd returned.

Still, Gellert's ambitions needed to be put first, and already, The Serpent had interfered more in them more than could be allowed, and Cassiopeia was the one person he trusted to be an end to the nuisance the man was becoming.

(Break)

Harry had not remained in Madrid long. With his work carried out in the bank, he had taken his leave of Spain soon after, the fighting amongst the civilians having increased in ferocity in the days since he had left with no signs of slowing.

The last thing he wanted was to be caught between the two sides whilst bullets were flying.

Not that his next destination was any safer, though he did not have to worry about warring muggles.

Bulgaria had fallen to Grindelwald months prior, but it was business as usual for the goblins here, and they had not escaped the plundering of the prolific robber.

"I am here on behalf of the ICW to investigate the theft," he explained quietly to the goblin seated at the front of the marble hall of the Gringotts branch.

The creature's lips curled around his teeth in distaste at the mention of what had befallen them.

"Then you will need to discuss the matter with Grimhack. He is in charge of locating our gold," the goblin explained. "I will send for him."

Harry merely nodded as he was left to wait for the arrival of the other goblin, this one turning out to be much larger than the other, his features marred with thick scars.

"You're from the ICW?" the creature growled.

"I am."

The goblin grunted and gestured for Harry to follow him.

"We have been waiting weeks for one of your lot to come, not that we expect anything less from wizards."

"Well, you could have had someone here sooner if you weren't so insistent the robbery was kept quiet," Harry returned. "Eight other branches have also experienced what you have."

Once more, the goblin grunted as he led Harry through a series of small corridors hewn from rough stone until they came to a large vault with the Gringotts crest embossed into the thick steel.

"This is it," the goblin declared, gesturing for the two heavily armed guards to step aside.

"And what security measures were in place when the robbery took place?" Harry questioned as he removed his wand.

The goblin eyed him suspiciously.

"Measures that will not be revealed to you."

"Then I will bid you a good day and leave you to your investigation," Harry sighed. "If you are not willing to help me, then I will not waste my time helping you."

He turned to leave only for the long, gnarled fingers of the goblin to close around his wrist.

"You cannot expect us to tell you our security measures!"

"You cannot expect me to be able to help you if I don't know them," Harry pointed out. "With what you and the other goblins will pay me to find this man, I have no reason to rob you myself. Consider the reward you are offering, and times it by nine. Why would I risk my life by trying to take more?"

The goblin conceded the point with a nod before loosening his grip.

"I do not like this, but we cannot allow the transgression to go unpunished. Despite my best efforts, I have found nothing that pertains to how this man accessed this vault."

"Then allow me to have a look," Harry urged. "You are welcome to remain whilst I carry out my work."

The goblin pondered the predicament for a moment before deflating.

"Very well," he muttered unhappily. "Our measures are standard and should not be able to be breached by anyone. Any that even touch the door, will find themselves trapped within the vault, something we are notified of. There have been no such alarms. Along with this, there are spells that can be quite lethal if any magical means are used to attempt to break in. These remain in place, and again, have not been activated. From what our own investigation has uncovered, everything is as it should be with only the gold no longer within."

"Were any alarms triggered the night of the robbery?"

"Only one, but nothing was found," the goblin explained. "Our detection ward alerted us to a presence, but when we arrived, all of the doors were locked, even the vault. It takes me, and the two guards on duty to nullify the protections, and we have all been interrogated. I can assure you that no one within this bank was involved."

"Just like the others," Harry mumbled, realising already that he would find nothing here. "I will do what I can."

The goblin nodded before addressing his companions in gobbledegook, and the three of them began the process of opening the enormous door.

It took a few minutes to do so, and during that time, Harry tried to fathom how someone would have managed to get in without doing the same.

He had already established that an invisibility cloak wouldn't work, nor any other charm he could think of. The protections within the bank would detect all of them, and as such, he was as stumped as the goblins.

"You may enter," Grimhack announced, pulling him from his reverie.

With a nod, and being watched closely as he did so, Harry made his way into the large space where piles of silver and bronze coins filled much of the cavern.

As with the others, there was a large expanse of space where the galleons once stood, but no longer.

With his wand already in hand, he cast all the detection charms he could manage, his eyes widening as a single boot print became visible, highlighted in a bright blue light.

Carefully, so not to disturb the impression, he crouched down to inspect it.

"What have you found?" Grimhack questioned.

"Has any other wizard been in here to your knowledge?" he returned.

"No!" the goblin answered firmly.

Harry hummed as he traced the outline of the print with his wand, nodding satisfactorily.

It wasn't much to go on, but it was something.

"Well, one other has," he revealed, pointing to the print. "A wizard with a size ten shoe, but there is only a single print. I am guessing that he missed this one whilst cleaning up or didn't realise he had left it at all."

"What makes you think that?" the goblin asked.

"Because humans tend to have two feet, much like yourself," Harry replied.

The goblin did not appreciate the touch of humour, but Harry ignored him in favour of looking for any other sign of the man.

After several minutes of further investigation, he found nothing.

All that remained in the vault was a thin layer of dust, some cobwebs, and the coins that had not been disturbed.

It appeared as though the galleons had simply vanished.

With a deep sigh, Harry shook his head.

"I will need to ponder this," he murmured.

Being in the cold, dark vault was not helping him with his musings, and in truth, he knew there was nothing here to find.

"Do you not have any idea how this was done?" Grimhack enquired.

"Not as yet," Harry admitted, "but it will come to me. Could you possibly provide me with a memory of when you first entered the vault after the robbery? It could be important."

"I can," the goblin confirmed. "I was the first to enter and make the discovery."

Harry nodded gratefully.

"Then I will take it, and be on my way," he assured the creature. "I need to visit one other bank, but then I will look into the memories you have all provided in the hope that there is a common factor to be found."

"Then I look forward to hearing your findings," Grimhack replied, handing over a vial with the extracted memory glowing within.

With nothing else to be done here, Harry took his leave of the bank, his mind wandering aimlessly from one farfetched conclusion to the next, until his attention was caught by a small shop he was passing in the magical district of Bulgaria.

"Gregorovitch," he whispered in realisation, his conversation with Nicholas coming to the forefront of his mind.

Nodding thoughtfully to himself, he headed towards the wandmaker's shop, and entered, his nose being filled by a smell similar to that of the apothecary in Diagon Alley.

There was no one behind the counter, but shortly after the bell announced Harry's arrival, the shuffling of feet could be heard.

The man that entered was old, not so old that he was decrepit, but certainly past the best years of his life.

At first, he rambled in a language Harry did not understand, the pin gifted to him for his trip to Munich having been left at home.

When the man realised his words were not being comprehended, he huffed irritably.

"Do you speak English?" Harry asked.

The man grinned, his teeth discoloured from an apparent tobacco habit.

"I do," he replied in a thick accent. "It is not often I have one from so far come to see me. Do you not have a wand from Ollivander?"

"I do," Harry confirmed," but it is not my wand I have come to speak to you about."

Gregorovitch narrowed his eyes.

"Ah, you are one of those," he snorted. "I will tell you the same as I tell the others. I cannot help you. Good day!"

"You know what I am looking for," Harry returned, halting the man who had begun turning away from him. "Why would people believe you know something about it if you don't."

Gregorovitch grinned once more.

"Because I am the best wandmaker in the world," he replied with a shrug. "People foolishly assume things."

"But not this time," Harry countered. "You do know something about it."

Gregorovitch eyed him speculatively before a harsh laugh escaped him.

"You are tenacious," he said almost respectfully, "but so are the others. What makes you think I will tell you anything different?"

"You don't have to," Harry conceded, "but the wand is a family heirloom."

For a split second, Gregorovitch's eyes widened before he schooled his features.

"You are a Peverell," he said simply.

"I am a descendant."

The wandmaker shook his head.

"Just because the wand once belonged to your ancestor, that does not give you a claim over it. I admit, I imagine it would work at its' best in the hands of the blood that held it first, but it is loyal only to power. To possess the wand, you must prove your worth to it. If you cannot, it will be no better than any other wand you own."

"You know this because you had it," Harry whispered. "You would not say these things if you did not know them from experience."

Gregorovitch laughed humourlessly.

"You have a keen mind, and you intrigue me," he mused aloud. "I will make an offer to you because in truth, it does not matter what I say. The wand is out of reach to all that wish to live their life beyond pursuing it. What do you say?"

Harry frowned.

"What is the offer?"

"I would like to inspect your wand," Gregorovitch requested. "I would like to know your story, and if I feel that you are worthy, I will tell you what you wish to know."

After only a moment of considering the terms, Harry removed his wand from his holster and handed it to the wandmaker.

He was curious what the man would have to say, the only mention of him coming during the weighing of the wands ceremony when it was revealed that Viktor's wand had been crafted by him.

Carefully, Gregorovitch took it, and nodded appreciatively as he inspected the holly.

"Holly and phoenix feather," he mumbled. "A fine wand indeed. I daresay that Ollivander is perhaps the only other that can produce creations as fine as my own."

Harry said nothing and allowed the man to continue with his inspection.

As Ollivander had done, he placed it next to his ear as though the wand was speaking to him.

After several minutes of nodding, humming, and even questioning the seemingly conversing length of wood, he nodded a final time before placing it on the counter.

"Your wand has already lived a most interesting life," Gregorovitch declared, "as have you. Quite the life indeed for one so young."

Harry could not deny it, and though he did not know what the man had learned, he nodded his agreement.

"Your bond with it is a rare one," Gregorovitch continued. "You are connected in ways that I have seldom seen. It has saved your life, as has the creature to whom the feather belongs to, but it craves more."

"Blood?" Harry asked.

Gregorovitch smiled appreciatively.

"Indeed. There is something in your blood that would strengthen the bond further, perhaps to a strength I have never seen. The serpent calls to The Serpent, after all. Worry not, worry not," he placated. "I have no cause to speak of you to any that would wish to harm you. If anything, we share a common enemy for what he has done to my people, and for taking what he had no right to."

"The wand," Harry said in realisation.

Gregorovitch nodded.

"He took it for himself," he confirmed. "Stole it from me some years passed."

"Bloody hell," Harry groaned, the enormity of what he faced becoming known.

Gregorovitch chuckled humourlessly.

"It is like I said, perhaps the wand would work best in the hands of one it was intended for."

"The problem is the hands that it is in now."

"A problem indeed, but not insurmountable," Gregorovitch denied. "The legends may speak of a wand that cannot be beaten, but if that is so, why has it changed hands so many times? If it was unbeatable, how did he take it from me?"

"He won it from you?"

"He did, and with skill," the wandmaker admitted. "I too believed in the legend until that day. Much of what I believed in regarding the wand was shattered, but make no mistake, I know wands, and I know that the bond you share with yours is exceptional. If truth be told, I cannot fathom a wand, even the Deathstick, being a better match than the one you carry."

"So, I shouldn't try to get it?"

"Oh, you absolutely should, but not because you wish to possess it the same way others do, but to prevent it falling into the hands of anyone else. It may be that you are meant to possess it, to guard it, or even use it. That is something we cannot hope to know until you have it."

"But the bond with my wand…"

"Is strong," Gregorovitch reiterated. "Feed it, young man, and fulfil the potential that you possess, but do so on the summer solstice. For reasons that were not revealed to me, the date is important to you and your wand. It is when it saved you from certain death."

The summer solstice.

That was the very same date that Voldemort had returned, the night of the third task.

"So, I just give it some blood?"

Gregorovitch tutted.

"No, you allow it to feed from your veins," he explained. "Use a silver knife, cut across your palm, and take hold of your wand. It will feed until its' thirst is quenched."

"A ritual then?"

"One that very few are able to complete. To even forge a connection so deep, one must endure, overcome, and thrive. You have done these things," Gregorovitch explained. "Think of it as a gift from you to your wand, and one from your wand to you."

Harry nodded his understanding.

"You have given me much to think about."

"And you have given me an experience that I will never forget," the man replied with a slight bow. "I wish you luck, Serpent, in the hope that you find what you are looking for, and that you can free my people from him."

"Thank you," Harry returned sincerely, offering the aged man his hand.

Gregorovitch accepted the gesture and gave him a final smile.

After bidding him a final farewell, Harry exited the shop, feeling worse than before he had entered, and a part of him wishing he hadn't.

Grindelwald had the elder wand, and he could not think of anyone worse being in possession of it.

The thought caused him to halt, his mouth falling agape as another realisation set in.

"You sneaky bastard," he whispered.

If Grindelwald had the wand now, that meant he had it when Dumbledore had defeated him where Harry had come from.

Dumbledore had possessed the wand, and Harry had no doubt the man knew exactly what it was he had, but to what end?

Nicholas had been adamant Albus not be allowed to have it, but he had also had Harry's cloak. Had he managed to unite the three Hallows?

Harry couldn't be sure, but what he did know was that he would not be doing so now.

Harry had the ring and the cloak already, and though the wand was currently out of his reach, he knew where it was.

The glaring problem he faced, however, was how he would acquire it.

Did he want to?

If what Gregorovitch had said was true, then it would not serve him any better than his own.

Still, he could not help but think he had little choice in the matter.

If he was meant to possess the wand, it would somehow make its way to him, but how it would do so, it was left him feeling concerned.

To own it, he would need to win it from Grindelwald, and that was not a confrontation he was relishing the thought of.

(Break)

It had taken only a simple letter, and a short wait for Cassiopeia to receive an invitation to tea from Hepzibah Smith, and in the meantime, she had paid a visit to the Ministry of Magic to consult the register of practitioners of the Mind Arts.

As expected, there was no Gordon Smith listed, but it was certainly interesting to see the name of Minerva McGonagall having been recently added to the list of registered animagi.

That was quite a feat for one so young, and though Cassiopeia had not doubted the woman's ability in transfiguration, this spoke volumes of just how good she must be.

Dumbledore may be a dithering fool, but his own gift in the branch was undeniable, and so did it seem was spotting talent.

Cassiopeia, however, had not come here to appreciate such things. Gellert had set her a task, and she had every intention of seeing it through with the unwitting assistance of her late mother's friend.

She had considered extracting the information from the ambassador to the muggles but having learned the one that held the post belonged to the Bones family, she thought better of it.

The Bones were not to be crossed lightly, and Gellert would not appreciate her alienating one of the more prominent bloodlines in Britain against him were she to fail.

No, such a venture was too risky, and that was why she was relying on the meeting with Hepzibah Smith for the information she sought.

The house she appeared before was a grand building, much more so than Grimmauld Place, or any other property that belonged to the Blacks. The Smiths were a very wealthy family after all, and to them, pomp was a commodity that had always been prevalent.

The large front door opened before she even reached it and stood in the doorway waiting for her was a house-elf, its' white apron with the Smith family crest as pristine as the curtsey the little creature offered Cassiopeia.

"Miss Black," the elf greeted her warmly. "Miss Hepzibah welcomes you to her home. Please follow Hokey."

Cassiopeia did so, offering the elf a polite smile before it led her through a long hallway adorned with what any would expect to find in pureblood home with a rich history.

Portraits of the Smiths gone by neatly lined the white walls, the furniture all made of the same solid oak as the floor. Atop the sideboards and tables sat an array of trinkets, and expensive vases, a gawdy display, but one that demonstrated the accumulated wealth of the family.

Around halfway down the length of the hall, the elf came to a stop outside an oak door and knocked politely.

The voice that bade them to enter was muffled, but the tone eager, and Cassiopeia followed the elf in.

The room was very much the same as the hallway, though sat above the fireplace was a portrait that would impress any visitor who came.

It was not often, if ever, that one would be looked upon by Helga Hufflepuff herself.

"It is a magnificent painting," a voice broke into her thoughts. "Your mother would admire it too when she came to visit. I was deeply saddened by her passing. She was a fine woman."

Cassiopeia almost balked at the sheer size of Hepzibah Smith when she met her gaze. She had heard the woman was quite overweight, but she could not help but think that the name the other purebloods used to describe her did a disservice to cows up and down the country.

Hepzibah was much larger than a heifer. She was so obese that it appeared as though she was made of wax that someone had melted with fire.

"My mother always spoke very highly of you," Cassiopeia replied politely. "She said that you were a wonderful host with the most fascinating tales to tell."

Hepzibah giggled, the fat around her neck wobbling rhythmically.

"She always was a flatterer," she returned. "You look like her, you know. Not so much that any would mistake you for her, but I see enough of her in you. Do take a seat dear and Hokey will bring us some tea."

"Thank you," Cassiopeia offered, sitting in a chair not too close to the fire.

The room was already quite stifling, and she wondered how Hepzibah could bear it.

"She would visit quite often, your mother," the large woman informed her. "She would sit in that very same seat and tell me how proud she was of all of her children, and I can see why. You have grown into a fine young lady."

Cassiopeia smirked.

"I think it is you that is the flatterer, Miss Smith."

The woman giggled again, her cheeks reddening from the effort.

"Oh, stop. I speak only the truth of what I see, and what I see is a lady that your mother would be very proud of still."

Cassiopeia had her doubts.

Her mother would not support what she was doing. If anything, she would be disappointed by the choices she had made.

She shook her head of those thoughts as the elf returned, levitating a tray laden with a teapot and a selection of cakes.

"She would not be happy with how the family has fallen apart though," Cassiopeia pointed out. "Things have not been the same without her."

"I don't suppose they would be," Hepzibah sympathised. "My own family has their own issues. I have not seen any of them for many years, not unless they want something from me."

Cassiopeia nodded interestedly.

"Oddly enough, I met a relative of yours recently, Gordon I think he is name is."

"Gordon?" Hepzibah questioned with a frown. "No, I believe you are mistaken, my dear. There is no Gordon that has been born to my family."

"That is strange," Cassiopeia mused aloud.

"Indeed, but just in case I am wrong, why don't you consult the book over there, the one by the fireplace on the left. It is updated with all the births in the family," Hepzibah explained, pointing a chubby finger towards the book in question.

Cassie did so, checking the births in the family from the last fifty years, and found no sign of a Gordon Smith.

"You are quite right," she revealed. "He must have been a mud-muggleborn then."

"Then check the book next to it," Hepzibah urged. "Smith is a common name, and after the incident in 1612, we were granted knowledge of all Smiths that entered the wizarding world."

"The incident of 1612?" Cassiopeia asked curiously.

Hepzibah's expression darkened.

"A commoner tried to usurp our claim to our family titles, and it was difficult to prove that he was a fraud. Since then, the Ministry records have been connected to our own, so whenever a Smith that is not one of ours is registered at the Ministry, our book is updated."

"A smart move," Cassiopeia acknowledged as she thumbed through the records, again, finding no sign of Gordon Smith. "Well, he must have given a false name," she sighed.

"Ah, well if he plans to usurp us, he will fail miserably in his efforts. Might I assume that you found home interesting?"

"I did," Cassiopeia answered as she took her seat once more, her mind wandering to Gellert's own thoughts on the matter. "He was very interesting."

"Then I'm sure you will find him," Hepzibah comforted.

"I will catch up to him eventually."

She would if given the choice, but she suspected Gellert would beat her to it. When he learned that Gordon Smith did in fact not exist, he would be most displeased, and would reach the conclusion that Cassiopeia had.

Gordon Smith was indeed The Serpent, and Gellert would be furious that he had not realised it in time.

"That's the spirit dear," Hepzibah encouraged, breaking into her thoughts. "Now, whilst you are here, would you like to see my most treasured possessions? Your mother, rest her soul, only ever saw one of these before she died, but she would have certainly appreciated my newest acquisition more."

Cassiopeia did not know what the woman was referring to, but the twinkling of her beady eyes was enough to garner her attention.

"I would be honoured to see anything you'd like to show me," she replied, eliciting a beaming smile from Hepzibah.

"Hokey, do be a dear and fetch our special objects from the vault," she instructed the elf. "Miss Black is the daughter of an old friend and is certainly trustworthy."

Now Cassiopeia was curious.

With all the wealth on display, what more was there to be seen that she already hadn't?

(Break)

Harry exited his pensieve, a deep frown marring his features. It wasn't that he'd had to part with a significant sum of gold to acquire the stone basin, but how similar each of the memories he'd been studying were.

All showed the goblins of each bank disabling the protections on the vaults and entering to find the stacks of galleons usually housed within missing.

He had thought that perhaps the wards had been deactivated, but they had not. Apparently, the goblins did not make such mistakes, but if that was the case, then how were they all being robbed?

With a huff of frustration, he delved once more into the memories of the first and second robberies, and then the third and forth with nothing becoming obvious.

It was when he revisited the sixth that he caught a glimpse of something from the corner of his eye that piqued his curiosity.

"Surely not," he muttered disbelievingly before quickly changing back to the first, and then cycling through each respectively, the same pattern emerging.

He shook his head and chuckled humourlessly.

"You clever bastard," he snorted. "Well, you certainly had a good run."

With his suspicions all but confirmed, he knew he had little time to act, and needed to speak with as many branch managers as he could before the crook struck again.

When he did, Harry would be ready for him, and the cost of the pensieve would become negligible compared to reward he would soon claim.

"Clever bastard," he reiterated amusedly, though he felt little of that emotion.

Harry had spent months pursuing this man, and though it could take just as long to capture him, he had no doubt that he would now that he knew how the theif was getting away with it.