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HP: The Duelist of Hogwarts - 457
🕑 Added 2025-12-06 20:09:25 +0000 UTCChapter 457: The Lestranges Visit Gringotts
“Young master Sean, these are Bella and Rodolphus’s hairs.”
Sean looked at the two strands Kreacher had brought him. One was long and slightly curled, the other shorter and coarser. Clearly, they belonged to Bellatrix and Rodolphus respectively.
It had been half a month since the Order of the Phoenix abandoned Number 12 Grimmauld Place. In that time, Kreacher had poured out his heartfelt hatred for Sirius often enough to convince Bellatrix and Rodolphus. He had smoothly become their house‑elf, and with them had been brought into the hidden chamber beneath Malfoy Manor, to serve Voldemort himself. Just like that, he had slipped straight into the Dark Lord’s inner circle.
“You were not spotted when you took their hair, were you?” Sean asked.
Bowing slightly, Kreacher shook his head. “Young master Sean need not worry. Kreacher was very careful. These two hairs drew no attention at all. Young master Sean can be at ease.”
“Good. Thank you,” Sean said. “With these two, I can track down another object like that locket. Once it is destroyed, we will be one step closer to killing Voldemort.”
At that, Kreacher’s face lit with fierce excitement. His whole body trembled as he nodded hard.
“In that case, old Kreacher has finally done some tiny, insignificant thing for young master Regulus,” he said. “If young master Regulus knew of this, he would surely be pleased with Kreacher.”
“You are right,” Sean replied. “If Regulus knew, he would be comforted by what you have done. That much I am certain of.”
Kreacher’s sole reason for living now was to finish what Regulus had started. Hunting down Horcruxes was one part of that duty.
He bowed low to Sean, then vanished.
When he was gone, Sean picked up the two hairs and dropped each into a separate vial, then gave them a gentle shake. The Polyjuice inside one turned a deep, pitch‑black. The other went a murky, muddy green so dark it was almost black, both colours clashing together in an unpleasant chaos.
Sean eyed them and could not help shaking his head.
“As expected of Voldemort’s most fanatical devotee and mistress,” he muttered. “Her Polyjuice is actually black. And that swamp‑green one… green gone black. The wizarding world’s Green‑Hat King, to a fault.”
Polyjuice in hand, he went straight to the Alchemy classroom office and knocked.
Pushing the door open, he saw Fleur sitting at the desk, quill in hand, marking essays.
“Do you have a moment, Professor Delacour?” he asked.
Fleur looked up at him and smiled. “That depends on what you want,” she said.
“What if I wanted to ask you some questions about my studies?” Sean said innocently.
“In that case, I am afraid I have no time at all,” Fleur replied at once. “You can go back and teach yourself. And if you cannot manage, then give up.”
Sean gave a helpless little laugh and tried again.
“What if I asked Mademoiselle Fleur to come out for a walk,” he said, “and give me a hand with something along the way?”
At that, Fleur set her quill down, rose and pulled on her outer robe.
“If it is that,” she said cheerfully, “then I have all the time in the world.”
“You really are not a very responsible teacher, Professor Delacour.”
“I am perfectly responsible with everyone else,” she said sweetly. “Just not with you.”
“All right, enough bickering. Come out with me. It might be a little dangerous, but it should not be anything too serious.”
He handed her the vial of Polyjuice that held Bellatrix’s hair.
“Drink this when we are on our way to Gringotts in Diagon Alley,” he said. “We are going there to take something out of a vault.”
“Gringotts?” Fleur’s eyes gleamed. “Now that is exciting.”
They left the office side by side. The instant they stepped into the corridor, Sean cast the Disillusionment Charm, wiping them both from sight. Shrouded in invisibility, they walked openly out of Hogwarts, past patrolling Aurors and through the suffocating air of Ministry‑imposed control.
Since Harry’s last appearance at Hogwarts, the Aurors had officially taken up permanent station in the school. They were all loyal to the pure‑blood faction and to Umbridge, and they watched Hogwarts with fanatical intensity. Their surveillance extended from the professors to the students. Only the house common rooms and the teachers’ private offices remained free of their direct interference.
Even there, though, the Slytherin Brotherhood reserves had eyes.
The Brotherhood no longer limited itself to Slytherin. It had placed informants in all four houses, even Gryffindor.
Their numbers were small—one or two in a house at most—but they existed. That much was obvious from what had happened the previous week, when the Weasley twins had plotted a grand prank against the Aurors in their own common room, only to find their plans somehow discovered in advance and punished.
Those informants had poisoned the atmosphere in all four houses. No one trusted anyone. Friendships that had once been easy and open were now strained and guarded. People watched their words with care.
The professors had protested more than once.
All it earned them was a stream of moralising political platitudes and a stack of baseless disciplinary warnings.
Once Sean and Fleur had passed beyond Hogwarts’s grounds, they dropped their Disillusionment and Apparated to Diagon Alley, emerging near Gringotts.
At once, they both drew out their vials and drained the contents.
Fleur swallowed Bellatrix’s Polyjuice and immediately pulled a face, tongue sticking out.
“Ugh,” she said. “Rotten wood. That is what it tastes like. Revolting.”
“Mine tastes like rancid weeds,” Sean said. “Fitting for the Green‑Hat King. Not only is his colour so green it has gone black, it even tastes like the open prairie.”
As they spoke, their bodies twisted and stretched. Moments later, Bellatrix Lestrange and Rodolphus Lestrange stood where they had been.
In Bella’s form, Fleur slipped her arm through Sean’s, pressing herself close. Together, they walked into Gringotts.
“Ah,” one of the goblins said, eyes narrowing. “Madam Lestrange. And Mr Lestrange. What brings you to Gringotts today?”
Fleur was quick‑witted and did not need Sean’s hint. She drew herself up, chin high, and let an air of contempt settle over her features.
“I am here to retrieve some of my belongings,” she said coldly. “As to what they are, I hardly think I need to explain that to you.”
“Of course not,” the goblin replied smoothly. “However, for security reasons, we must perform a brief verification. If Madam Lestrange would be so kind as to present her—”
Before he could finish, Sean’s hand, hidden deep in his sleeve, tightened around his wand.
“Soul Displacement,” he whispered.
