"You there!" A fierce growl emanated somewhere from her left.
She blinked, turning in the direction of the voice. "...Yes?"
This one was wearing a military style, thick coat with armored shoulder pads that was embedded with corrupted, ancient magic. His helmet was imbued with power too. She could see black smoke constantly leaking out of the cursed armor and knew immediately that this was a high-ranking goblin.
Bollocks.
"Yes, Sir." The goblin grabbed the collar of her clothes, watching him note that she was a lower ranking nobody with no ounce of cursed metal on her persons, "You're that new guy, aren't you? I thought we told you to change the chamberpots in the dungeon."
Double bollocks. However... That was a great excuse to have her in the dungeons with no suspicion. She hid her smile, knowing that no one in their right mind would be excited about chamberpots.
She nodded, "Yes, Sir. Chamberpots-Headed there now."
The goblin in charge let her go with a scowl on his face. He walked past her, purposefully hitting her shoulder as he walked past, and causing her to flinch. Glad to know they were arseholes to their own brethren.
Heading towards the dungeons that Dinah had laid out for her earlier, she followed the map in her mind down several levels, and was pleased to see that no one paid her any attention. Being a metamorphmagus really did have its perks sometimes.
The stench of death hit her as she walked down the last flight of stairs onto cobblestone that was slick with water.
Wait.
Her eyebrows furrowed, smelling the rusty scent in the air. That wasn't water. This dungeon was covered in blood.
Did they already kill Ominis Gaunt?
Chapter Two: Saving the Heir
She walked down the dingy corridor, noting that on either side of her were cells. Barbaric cells that held either pieces of someone or were entirely empty. There was a torch on the wall every few feet in between the holdings. It was a mistake to look too closely into the cells because in one of them held two hands clasping each others. One larger than the other. A man and a woman. Her heart throbbed painfully and Gracie shook her head.
They shouldn't have made it so easy to get caught... But at the beginning stages of the War; no one expected the goblins to be so powerful. One day she was studying, the next the British Minister for Magic had been executed, and everyone was evacuating.
"Ah, you must be the chamberpot lackey I've been hearing so much about." An aristocratic voice drawled to her left, opposite of the lover's cell, "Well I hate to complain about the hospitality, but you haven't given me anything to eat or drink in the last 36 hours so my pot is empty. Feel free to put together a dish of roasted lamb or maybe duck. I fancy both."
Gracie raised an eyebrow, "Dinah said to find the plans and rescue you, but if food is all you want; I can certainly leave you here."
He walked forward into the light and was met with a tall, blond wizard. Surprise was etched across his face and she could see that his brown dragon leather attire was ripped and torn in a few spots. They'd beaten him before bringing him down into his cell. If that wasn't enough of an indication, the bruises on his jaw and his swelling eye were visibly noticeable.
"You're a traitor? I can tell you're a goblin."
"Ah, I suppose that should be a compliment of my abilities. Where's your wand, Mr. Gaunt? Did they take it?"
He nodded, "Locked it up, otherwise my old friend would have came back to me." He must have heard her quiet scoff because he explained, "My wand is sentient. Helps what with the blindness."
"Do you know how to get to where you were before?"
"Not a clue without my wand."
"You're useless, then. I should leave you here."
Ominis didn't say anything to that and Gracie realized that they were strangers. He didn't know her dry, dark humor well enough to realize it was a joke. He thought she was serious and was going to leave him... But he didn't complain. He didn't even ask her to change her mind. He accepted it.
She almost felt guilty. Almost.
Slipping her wand out of the armor carefully, Gracie whispered the incantation 'Alohomora' and watched as the cell clicked open, "Will you be able to follow me?"
"I'm not entirely useless. I can do that much." Ominis grumbled, "But you may have to cast a Disillusionment charm on me. Without my wand, I can't really tell where the goblins are up ahead."
"When we're out of here, remind me to ask you why Dinah considers a blind man as her top scout for the Army." Gracie grumbled.
His lip rose indignantly, "What a gentleman. What can I call you or should 'Arsehole' suffice?"
She had to smile at that as she casted the requested charm and he disappeared from her sight. "Gracie Hunt."
"Hunt? I think I remember you from Hogwarts. Weren't you accused of cheating on your O.W.L.s?"
Of course, why would they remember the Hyperthymesiac when they could remember the one time she got in major trouble? He wouldn't have remembered her as a Metamorphmagus since for the longest time; she couldn't control it. Only Dinah and Aesop knew because of their status as previous Unspeakables, and she'd asked them for advice her final year.
"I will leave you here." After a moment she added, "And I didn't cheat. I'm a Hyperthymesiac."
"You're cold?"
She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Let's find your wand, the artefact documents, and then I'm dropping you off at the nearest train stop."
"How kind of you." He mumbled as they walked up the stairs.
Gracie hid her wand, but kept a hand on the axe. Though it was in terrible shape, she could surely lodge it into someone's neck if need be.
Rookwood Castle had it been taken better care of, could have reminded her of Hogwarts with the stoned walls and floor. Portraits were slashed along a few of the walls and there were many boxes of useless trinkets and some of food where a cauldron sat over a fire. The goblins she did pass paid her no mind.
Ominis would tap her on the shoulder when it came time to choosing a direction since he was trying to sense where his wand was. She found him leading her closer to the center of the castle on the third level. It made sense that the most important documents and she supposed-his wand-would be in the center. However, the closer she came to a large archway with a golden door, the more the goblins paid attention to her.
"What are you doing over here?" Gracie looked over her shoulder to see another Goblin that was holding a soup spoon that may have been half the size of his body, "Who are you?"
Gracie pointed to herself, wondering what her goblin looked like as an uncomfortable smile fell on her face, "Chamberpot. I was told that there were pots to change in there."
"In Ranrock's quarters?"
A sudden wave of surprise crashed over her. Ranrock? He was staying here? That made this innocent little mission go from search and rescue to escaping with their lives being the number one priority.
She wanted to say as much, but there was a squeeze on her shoulder. The rebellion needed those documents if they were to have any chance of winning the war. Gracie sighed inwardly. She wasn't a fighter. She was only curious.
A pair of clasped hands danced behind her eyelids. She couldn't understand it. Choosing to die together instead of trying to escape alone. Or maybe they chose to get captured together instead of being apart? Her lips pressed together tightly. Her curiosity was going to get her killed.
"Yes. It was requested. Should I leave and not clean it?" Gracie resisted the urge to smirk. She was shifting the responsibility and the blame to this cook who had the backbone of a flobberworm. "I'll let-"
The other goblin shook his head, "Clean it. You have five minutes."
"Understood." She mumbled wryly before pushing past the doorway.
Ranrock's quarters didn't hold a bed which meant this may not have been his permanent residence, but there was a large cozy chair by the fireplace and blankets. Even if he didn't stay here permanently, he was here habitually. This room was important enough for him to sway his own people to stay away from.
When she heard the goblin's footsteps disappear, Gracie spoke under her breath. "Do not touch anything and don't take any documents."
"How are you going to remember it all?"
She ignored his question, having already given him the answer earlier. "Look for your wand. Can you feel it nearby?"
"It's by the fireplace. On the mantle."
Sure enough, she spied a little locked box. Gracie ignored him walking towards the box to look at the array of documents scattered about the table. The room reminded her of some medieval quarters from a book. A fireplace, an armchair, a large table that spanned several meters, and a little lounge area where a couple chairs sat around a smaller table. She could see some sort of stew rising with steam and fresh bread to the side of it.
Her focus shifted over to the documents, running her eyes meticulously down the several lines of paper and committing the words to memory. They weren't in a language she recognized immediately, but she'd seen these types of runes before at Hogwarts.
ᛋᛁᚢᛁᚾ ᛏᚱᛁᛅᛚᛋ ᛏᚬ ᚴᚱᛅᛏᛁ ᚦᛁ ᛒᛁᚱᚠᛁᚴᛏ ᚢᛅᛒᚬᚾ
ᛋᛁᚢᛁᚾ ᚴᚱᛅᛏᚢᚱᛁᛋ ᛏᚬ ᚼᛅᚱᚾᛁᛋᛋ ᚦᛁᛁᚱ ᛒᚬᚢᛁᛦ
ᚾᚬᚦᛁᚾᚴ ᛁᛋ ᚢᚼᛅᛏ ᛁᛏ ᛋᛁᛁᛘᛋ
ᚬᛒᛏᛅᛁᚾ ᚦᛁᛋ ᛅᚾᚴᛁᛁᚾᛏ ᛒᚬᚢᛁᚱ ᛒᛁ ᛅᚾᛁ ᛘᛅᚾᛋ
If she was correct, then these were Futhark Runes. The Wizarding World combined the Muggles' Futhark runic alphabet with the additions of magical creatures to signify numbers. Scrawled all over the document was an upside down tear drop with four squiggle marks coming from the bottom of it.
It was the symbolic meaning for the number seven and also unknown. Whatever this rune meant, the number seven was very important and driving the translator absolutely mad. Behind it, she saw a world map with several 'X's. It didn't surprise her when she counted seven. One on each continent.
Gracie was right. The number seven was exceedingly important.
"What are you looking at?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Gracie murmured shortly, "Don't distract me. I'm trying to commit these to memory."
A sigh escaped behind her and she took a glance out of the corner of her eye to see that Ominis had broken into the box, and retrieved his wand. He wasn't invisible anymore either, choosing to stand near the doorway with a forlorn expression on his face.
Gracie went back to looking over the documents, noting each of the countries.
An X on a city in Switzerland that bordered France and Germany.
An X on the Appalachian Mountain range in the United States.
An X on Lake Victoria in Eastern Africa.
An X near Beijing, China.
An X in the middle of the Amazon Rainforest in Manicoré, South America.
An X on a costal town near Sydney, Australia.
The last X was curiously between South America's Cape Horn, and the Southern Islands of Antartica. If she was correct, that was the Drake Passage.
What was so important about these places?
"Gracie?" Ominis called out, sounding unsure.
She placed the parchment back in the same order she found them, looking rather annoyed at having been interrupted, "What, now?"
"I smell hot stew and fresh bread."
"Glad to know you aren't nose blind too." She replied in a snarky manner before spying a curious looking sword. The handle was made of an elaborate silver color with engravings that were similar to Godric Gryffindor's sword at Hogwarts. She'd seen it once before in the Headmaster's office near the Sorting Hat when she got called in for cheating. "That sword... There's no rubies on it like Godric's."
It was true. Instead, there were seven empty spots where a jewel was to be inserted. Slots the size of marbles and they followed a straight line until the handle met the blade.
Seven. This had to do with the parchment and the mysterious 'X's.
"Gracie." Ominis' voice became more urgent as he walked over to her, grabbing her arm, "We need to leave. The stew is fresh. The bread is warm."
Ignoring him for a moment, she transfigured the silver goblet nearby into a sword that looked just like the one she was about to steal. "Grab that sword. I can't carry it with this body, but keep it out of sight. I've produced a fake replica."
"Gracie-"
"Talk about that stew, one more damn time, and I'm going to shove it down your throat." She snapped, irately.
Ominis took the sword, but anger was imbued on his face and in his scathing tone, "Have you thought for a moment who would leave a perfectly good stew alone? Ranrock is coming back, Gracie, and likely very soon to eat his dinner."
Ah. Bollocks.
Gracie grimaced, hearing footsteps coming towards the door. "Why didn't you say something sooner?"
He scoffed, muttering curse after curse.
Things were about to get very complicated.
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ヾ(｡ꏿ﹏ꏿ)ﾉﾞ UH OH. Do you think they're gonna be able to escape unscathed? Let me know!
Thank you for reading and please leave a comment!