With her N.E.W.T.s completed and her status as a fully qualified witch legally cemented, Ariana wasted no time. The Ministry, under Amelia Bones's ferocious new leadership, was actively purging itself. The Order of the Phoenix was regrouping, preparing for a long, shadowy war. But Ariana knew that conventional conflict was inefficient. It was time to introduce a new, disruptive variable into the equation. It was time to go to Gringotts.
She arrived at the great marble hall of the wizarding bank, not as a student, but as a recognized power. She bypassed the regular tellers and requested a private meeting with her account manager, a grim, ancient goblin named Gornuk, who now treated her with a deference bordering on fear.
They met in a private, warded chamber deep within the bank.
"I wish to access my vault," Ariana stated simply. "Number 711."
Gornuk's eyes widened slightly. Vault 711 was the newly acquired, high-security Lestrange seized vault, a place of immense wealth and dark legend. He led her down through the winding cart-tracks, the air growing colder and older as they descended.
The vault door was a monstrous thing of black iron, sealed with enchantments that made the air crackle. Gornuk pressed his long, gnarled finger to the door, and with a series of deep, grinding clicks, it swung open.
The Lestrange family's accumulated wealth was staggering. Mountains of gold Galleons, piles of priceless jewels, and stacks of silver ingots gleamed in the gloom. But Ariana's eyes were not on the gold. They were on the other items, carelessly strewn amongst the treasure.
Her first target was on a high shelf. A small, golden cup with two finely-wrought handles and an engraved badger. Hufflepuff's Cup. It radiated the same cold, sickening aura as the locket and the diary. Another Horcrux. She carefully moved it and placed it into a magically inert, lead-lined containment pouch she had prepared.
Her second target was propped against a pile of skulls. A magnificent, silver sword with a ruby-encrusted hilt. The Sword of Gryffindor. Or, as she knew from her research, an exquisite fake. The real sword was safe with Dumbledore, ready to present itself to any Gryffindor worthy of it. This was Bellatrix's prized, and ultimately fake, possession. It was still a priceless artifact and a powerful symbol. She secured it as well.
Then, she began the real work. For over an hour, she meticulously sorted through the vault's contents. She was not interested in the gold. She was interested in the knowledge. She collected ancient, dark grimoires on soul-magic, tomes on curses that had been lost to the world for centuries, and artifacts whose malevolent power was a valuable source of research data. These were not tools to be used, but dangers to be studied and understood.
When she was finished, the vault was still overflowing with a fortune in gold and jewels, but its true treasures—its darkest secrets—were now in her possession.
She returned to the surface with Gornuk, her expression calm and business-like.
"The contents of the vault are satisfactory," she said. "Now, I wish to conduct a new piece of business."
Gornuk's sharp eyes glinted with interest. "Gringotts is always open for business, Mistress Dumbledore."
"I wish to place a bounty," Ariana stated, her voice as cool and hard as the marble around them.
"A bounty?" he rasped. "On whom?"
"On the individual known as Tom Marvolo Riddle," she said, using the name with deliberate precision. "Also known as Lord Voldemort."
Gornuk froze, his composure finally cracking. He stared at her as if she had just declared her intention to purchase Gringotts itself. To place a public bounty on a Dark Lord who only recently officially acknowledged by the wider public was an act of audacious, almost insane, warfare.
"The terms are simple," Ariana continued, ignoring his shock. "I want an international, magically binding contract, posted in every Gringotts branch from London to Cairo. The bounty is for his capture, or, if capture proves impossible, for undeniable proof of his final, true death."
"The price…" Gornuk began, his mind racing. "A bounty of that magnitude would require…"
"The prize money," Ariana cut him off, "will be the entire remaining contents of Vault 711. The full Lestrange fortune."
This time, Gornuk actually staggered back a step. The Lestrange fortune was one of the largest in the wizarding world, a treasure vast enough to fund a small country for a decade. To offer it all for the head of one man… it was a sum so ludicrously high, so breathtakingly lucrative, that it would change the very nature of the war.
"Every greedy, amoral, and powerful curse-breaker, mercenary, and dark-wizard hunter from here to the furthest corners of the world will join the hunt," Ariana explained, her logic cold and brutal. "They will not be motivated by loyalty or morals. They will be motivated by gold. Voldemort's followers fight for him out of fear and a belief in his power. We will now have an army that fights against him for pure, uncomplicated greed. It is a very powerful motivator."
She was not just starting a manhunt; she was privatizing the war, unleashing the full, amoral force of the magical world's underbelly on its greatest threat. She was turning Voldemort from a figure of terror into a walking, breathing Gringotts vault.
"Furthermore," she added, "the bounty is not anonymous. I want it issued from a new holding, a foundation. It will be called the 'Regulus Black Memorial Fund for the Eradication of Dark Lords'."
The final stroke was a piece of genius. It tied the bounty to the memory of a 'fallen hero' who had turned against Voldemort, giving it a veneer of righteous purpose. It would also be a perpetual, stinging insult to Sirius's family and to Voldemort himself.
Gornuk stared at her, his ancient goblin mind, which had seen empires rise and fall, now filled with a new and profound respect for the young human standing before him. This was not the rash act of a grief-stricken wizard. This was finance as a weapon. This was war by a different means. This was, he had to admit, a truly goblin-like way of thinking.
"It will be done, Mistress Dumbledore," he rasped, bowing low, not just as a banker to a client, but as one brilliant strategist to another. "The contracts will be drawn up immediately. The world will know of the bounty by dawn."
Ariana nodded, her work complete. She left Gringotts, leaving behind a plan that would ignite a firestorm across the wizarding world. She had her Horcrux. She had her intel. And she had just hired every mercenary on the planet to be her personal army. Voldemort thought he was waging a war of terror and shadows. He was about to find out he was also the target of the most lucrative, and therefore most dangerous, manhunt in modern history.