Harry's hand flew instinctively to his forehead after that faint sting of pain, his fingers pressed against the lightning-bolt scar. His green eyes fixed with intensity on the witch who had suddenly appeared among Lucius Malfoy's group.
She was utterly unremarkable in physical appearance at first glance. Ordinary height, ordinary build, dressed in dull dark robes that could have belonged to any middle-aged witch in Britain.
Harry was absolutely certain he had never seen this particular woman before in his life.
Yet the very moment someone in the crowd had called out his name with excitement, the witch had snapped her gaze toward him with frightening speed and precision, as though the sound of "Harry Potter" had triggered some primal response in her brain.
Her eyes blazed with something feverish and raw that made Harry's skin crawl with instinctive warning.
"Is it him? Is that really him?"
Harry watched with growing alarm as she lunged suddenly for Draco's arm. She seized Draco's forearm with a grip so forceful that even Draco's face twisted visibly with fear and pain.
"That's Harry Potter, isn't it, Draco?! Tell me! Answer me!"
Her voice had risen to something approaching a shriek, drawing stares from throughout the hall.
"I—I—"
Draco seemed absolutely terrified of this woman in a way Harry had never seen him frightened of anyone. He clearly didn't want to answer her demand—but he equally clearly didn't dare lie to her.
His mouth opened and closed, caught between conflicting terrors.
"Let go of my son this instant, Bessel!"
Narcissa Malfoy's composure shattered in an instant. Her elegant expression shifted to fierce and protective. She moved swiftly to snatch at the woman's wrist to break her grip on Draco. Her face showed a mixture of shock and cold fury.
"What do you think you're doing, laying hands on him like that?!"
Lucius Malfoy reacted just as quickly, stepping forward to loom over the witch with his height. He pinned her with a cold, dangerous stare.
"You promised me you wouldn't cause—"
His voice was low, threatening, vibrating with suppressed rage.
"Tell me, Draco. Is that Harry Potter standing there or not?"
But the witch called Bessel paid absolutely no heed to the Malfoys' resistance or their attempts to restrain her. She kept her grip locked on Draco's arm. Her eyes were shot through with veins of red, bright with a terrible, nasty excitement.
"What is wrong with that person? She looks completely unhinged."
Ron muttered under his breath, his brow furrowed deeply with confusion and disgust. He'd taken several steps backward, putting distance between himself and the increasingly disturbing scene.
"That's really bizarre, Harry—you've apparently got an admirer among Malfoy's lot? Never thought I'd see the day."
"I don't think that's what this is at all."
Harry pressed his lips together into a thin line, unable to tear his eyes away from the woman's face. There was something deeply unnerving in those eyes—a flicker of something nearly familiar that he couldn't quite place.
At last, under the combined pressure from his mother, his father, and that terrible woman's unwavering stare, Draco gave a hesitant, reluctant nod of confirmation.
The confirmation had barely registered, before Bessel's eyes flooded with a deep, bloodshot light that seemed to glow. She smiled—a grotesque, predatory smile that showed too many teeth and began moving toward Harry.
"Where do you think you're going?"
Remus stepped directly in front of Harry in an instant. His wand was suddenly in his hand though Harry hadn't seen him draw it. His gentle gaze had turned sharp and solid as steel as he faced the approaching witch down.
"Oh—"
The witch called Bessel seemed to notice Remus only now, as though he'd been invisible to her until he'd physically blocked her path.
She paused mid-step, then she appeared to recognize him and her expression twisted with the sort of exaggerated disgust someone might show upon discovering something rotten at the bottom of their tea.
"What a wretched world this has become—when a filthy, gutter-born wolf pup dares to show his diseased face openly among proper wizards?"
"Apologize."
Anger surged through Harry like flame catching on dry kindling. He yanked his wand out of his sleeve and leveled it at her with a hand that shook with fury rather than fear. His voice came out cutting and cold as winter wind.
"Apologize to Remus. Right now."
"Harry, don't—"
Remus immediately closed his hand around Harry's wrist.
"Have you forgotten? You're still underage—"
"Oh, you'd actually raise your wand against me?"
Bessel let out a sharp, unhinged string of laughter that echoed unnaturally in the hall.
"I'd very much like to see how far you'd—"
"Bessel."
Lucius looked as though he might spontaneously combust with rage. Every line of his body was stiff with fury. He seized the woman's wrist roughly and held it still dragging her back. His face had turned ashen, drained of all color except for two spots of red on his cheekbones.
"Don't you dare forget what we agreed before coming here. Don't you dare."
His voice was like a hiss.
"I don't care about your pathetic agreement—this is Harry Potter standing right here, do you understand? I want to—"
Bessel shrieked but Lucius cut her off with something close to a roar.
"Be quiet, Bessel! Just shut your mouth for once in your miserable life!"
His chest heaved with the effort of controlling himself. He leaned close to her, pressing his face near hers, and murmured something low directly against her ear.
Harry watched as the bloodshot gleam in Bessel's eyes gave way—slowly, reluctantly to something like dissatisfied, simmering fury. She had been persuaded, it seemed. Or at least temporarily restrained.
But she wasn't done totally.
"Wait for me, little darling—"
Bessel dragged her tongue slowly across the corner of her lips. Her smile was a crimson curve of pure malice.
"One day soon, I'll come for you —personally wring that head right off your shoulders."
"Am I to understand," Remus said, his voice was steady despite the rage burning in his eyes, "that you are making unprovoked death threats against a minor currently enrolled at Hogwarts? In the middle of Gringotts Bank?"
Ptah!
In full view of everyone—Bessel spat directly onto the floor which was already smudged with a dozen boot prints from the day's unusual traffic. Then she wrenched her head away violently and barked at Lucius and the rest of their group with contempt:
"Move it, Lucius. Get on with your business. I'm done wasting my precious time in this cesspit."
Lucius looked as though he might actually commit murder on the spot, might draw his wand and curse this insane woman despite all the witnesses and consequences. He mastered the violent impulse with visible, tremendous effort, his jaw were working as he ground his teeth together.
Then he forced himself to turn back to face the sweating goblin managers, deliberately putting his back to Bessel.
"Ahem!"
He cleared his throat loudly, reasserting control over himself and the situation. He addressed Bogrod with flat indifference as though the previous scene had never occurred.
"I trust you can expedite this entire process, as requested. Time is rather valuable. In addition to the complete contents of the Malfoy family vault, my wife has a personal vault of her own—I believe you know the one I mean. It holds various assets and heirlooms she inherited from the late Lady Walburga Black. Those are all to be removed as well, naturally."
'Lady Walburga Black?'
Harry's eyes went wide with shock, his mind was making connections with dizzying speed.
"That's Sirius's mother—"
Hermione leaned close to his ear,
"Sirius told us about this, remember? When his mother died, she deliberately left all the Black family wealth to her two nieces instead of to him."
"I know. I remember."
Harry's green eyes blazed with fury that had nothing to do with Bessel's threats.
Sirius had shown them the elaborate tapestry hanging in the drawing room at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place—that massive family tree which was burned. He'd pointed out that Draco Malfoy's mother Narcissa was his first cousin.
And the other woman who had inherited a substantial share of the Black family fortune was Bellatrix Lestrange.
'Wait! Wait just a moment!'
Harry's expression shifted as a sudden, cold jolt of recognition rang through him like a bell being struck.
Just this morning, in those terrible visions that had torn through his mind and left him screaming on the floor of Grimmauld Place, he had seen Bellatrix. He'd watched Voldemort torture her with the Cruciatus Curse because she had failed to properly safeguard something. Something Voldemort cared about deeply.
And now the Malfoys were here, talking about Bellatrix's vault...
The pieces clicked together.
"But of course, of course, Mr. Malfoy—"
Bogrod kept his professional smile plastered in place despite the sweat pouring down his green-tinged face, despite the obvious stress making his hands tremble.
"That is entirely your right, sir. We can certainly arrange access to Mrs. Malfoy's vault."
"Furthermore," Narcissa said with icy composure, producing a walnut wand from within her robes, "I will be retrieving the portion of the Black family estate that was inherited by my sister. She entrusted those assets to my keeping before her... unfortunate circumstances."
Harry hadn't even had time to feel the sharp, indignant sting of Narcissa's breezy indifference toward what should rightfully have been Sirius's inheritance before a thought crashed into his mind and left him trembling.
"Harry—what is it? What's wrong?"
Remus felt it immediately: Harry's hand shaking violently beneath his, tremors running through the boy's whole body. He looked over sharply, concerned.
Harry's face had gone deathly pale except for two spots of color burning high on his cheeks. His gaze was locked with intensity onto Narcissa and onto the witch called Bessel.
"Y-you mean to say—"
Even the goblin, Bogrod, who was so skillful in the art of servility that he could probably grovel with genuine enthusiasm if the tip was large enough, faltered at Narcissa's request.
His smile slipped. He wrung his long, spidery fingers in unmistakable agitation.
"You wish to open the vault of Madam Bellatrix Lestrange, Mrs. Malfoy?"
"Is there a problem with that?"
Narcissa's tone dropped to ice cold and dangerous.
"This is the proper authorization to open that vault. Are you suggesting it is somehow forged?"
'Open Bellatrix Lestrange's vault.'
The words settled over Remus and the Weasley family like a cold fog rolling in off the ocean. They all went still—even Fred and George, who had been whispering to each other, fell silent.
"We can't let them do this."
Harry's voice had dropped to something close to a whisper. His eyes turned distant and fierce all at once.
"That vault—that's what they really came here for."
Remus's brow furrowed deeply with confusion and concern. "What do you mean, Harry?"
But before Harry could answer, Bogrod spoke again.
"—As I'm sure you're aware, Mrs. Malfoy."
Bogrod cast a carefully oblique glance at Bessel, who was now standing slightly behind Lucius with her arms crossed and that same manic smile at her face.
"Madam Lestrange is currently... the Ministry's directive regarding... her vault specifically has been flagged... this seems rather... highly irregular—"
His voice trailed off uncertainly. He was clearly trying to find a way to refuse without actually refusing.
"I am perfectly aware of your foolish little decree about seizing assets."
Narcissa's voice was laced with disdain. She looked down at the goblin the way one might look at something unpleasant tracked in on the bottom of one's shoe.
"The Ministry and you greedy goblins have been eyeing the ancient Lestrange fortune for some time now, haven't you? Salivating over all that accumulated wealth, just waiting for an excuse to seize it. But what I am here to collect doesn't belong to the Lestrange family at all—it belongs to the Black family. Those are Black family heirlooms and assets that my mother Walburga entrusted to Bella and me as her rightful heirs."
Her chin lifted with pride.
"I fully intend to preserve those precious family treasures from the grasping hands of greedy little creatures like you and your kind. As for the Lestrange inheritance that Bella received through her marriage to Rodolphus—that worthless pile of gold—that you may have. Seize it all, for all I care."
She sniffed with contempt.
"Hmph. Emboldened by Dumbledore and Watson, are we? Feeling brave with powerful wizards backing your pathetic rebellion….."
"This—this is—"
The goblin called Bogrod found himself caught between two impossible forces, trapped with no good options.
The goblin called Bogrod found himself caught between two impossible forces: the Ministry's decree on one side, the wealth and influence of Britain's oldest pure-blood families on the other.
He was sweating so densely now that his collar was soaked through. His hands were shaking.
"And is there a problem with Mrs. Malfoy's request?" one of Lucius's well-dressed companions demanded aggressively, stepping forward. "Are you planning to illegally seize the Black family wealth as well?"
Several of the other wealthy wizards who had come with Lucius closed in immediately at once, their expressions turned hard and cold and threatening. They surrounded the sweating goblin on all sides in a clear show of intimidation.
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