Out of Time

Chapter 57

Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
"That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all."

- The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, T.S. Eliot

The goblin stands in the middle of them, everybody's hands reaching out to rest on some part of his body.

Hermione has the distinct impression that this would not ordinarily be tolerated by the goblin - by any goblin. Not only is he transporting a batch of humans, they're gathered around him for transport like he's a packhorse. Not to mention where he's taking them, and with the felix guiding her, Hermione tries to suss out exactly what Griphook might want in this vault.

Not riches. Not wealth. Something that will hurt or - or otherwise injure Bellatrix Lestrange, and it can't be physical injury because Draco's aunt won't be sitting inside her own vault when they arrive. What else could it be?

She just doesn't know yet, but she's equally confident that when the time comes, the felix will show her the way.

Griphook's own magic is palpable. Without a single drop of potion strengthening his abilities or intent, he easily apparates the whole group of them into the appropriate side street. Being well before dawn, no one is around. They land far quieter than wizarding apparition, too, and Hermione can't be sure whether that would always happen or the felix is assisting even this.

Griphook seems unsurprised, so she has to assume it's simply goblin magic.

Impressive.

Flames of lit street lanterns flicker, their arrival casting ripples through the air like stones landing in a still lake. A crow caws up above, sending shivers down her spine when another answers from down the cobblestone street. Draco grips her hand.

There's a chill in the air, a breeze sweeping down the little alley they're inhabiting. Griphook scuttles forward to a solid wall between two flaming lanterns roughly three metres apart. He presses his hand flat to the stone and it begins to shift, not unlike the entrance into Diagon near the Leaky Cauldron.

At least he'd warned them about the dimensions of the entrance. It's an open employee path, well-lit and ventilated, but it is small. Hermione won't struggle much, but the three wizards are going to have a cramped time of it.

Draco doesn't like it but Hermione goes right behind Griphook. She wants to be able to see and to react. If she's stuck in the midst of the other three, she won't be able to see a thing. She can't stifle the impression of being trapped. It makes her anxious.

Draco makes sure he enters behind her, and Hermione figures Ron probably puts Harry in the middle. But it won't matter. She feels this as clearly as they do. This is merely a stepping stone, an uncomfortable start but not a dangerous one.

They emerge behind the goblin into a cavernous space, the wizards behind her standing fully upright with various mutterings and stretching of shoulders. Where they are looks like something between the entrance corridor they just left and the main bank lobby - finally rising tall and open, but without the decadent chandeliers and gold-plated decor of the public-facing side of the bank.

On either side of the room are rows and rows of offices, administrative spaces that Hermione guesses are still kept from the sight of the bank customers.

"How long do we have before everybody else shows up?" Ron whispers, bumping into Harry.

They've been through this, but Hermione doesn't begrudge the repetition of concrete facts. The felix almost answers him automatically from within her throat but she lets Griphook take charge of bank-related expertise.