The Sacrifice of Right (Pt. 2)
Title: The Sacrifice of Right
Length: 14,500 words, this part 6,650
Part One
Alkteg returned to the court of King Boldrund and met with him privately, showing him a note that had been discovered within his father's papers. And from this the king learned that the ruby Eretek had placed in the helmet had not been his first choice. For there was a legendary gemstone hidden within a castle in the far north, and it was said that it would confer resistance to any curse, even the killing curse, to the one who first took it in his hand.
But legend also had it that the castle was guarded by a savage beast that none could defeat. For the beast's teeth were as spears, and its claws swords; its breath was fire, and it shot poisoned barbs from its tail; no magic would affect it. Only a hero such as the king, with the aid of his enchanted helmet, could hope to stand a chance of overcoming the beast and claiming the stone.
'The Tale of the Good Goblin'
The supposed site of the castle was a small island off the Scottish coast. According to the documents, two hundred years ago there had been a modest but thriving community of crofters here, whose presence had made an unobtrusive investigation difficult -- for an investigator who looked like a goblin, at any rate. But nowadays there were no more than a handful of occupied houses left, and Percy and McGonagall were able to explain away their interest in searching for medieval ruins by passing themselves off as eccentric amateur archaeologists.
Over the following week they managed to carry out a cautious but thorough search of the entire island without exciting any attention more serious than a scornful comment about the idiocy of mainlanders -- a search whose sense of urgency was however greatly increased by the owl that arrived from Kingsley on the fourth day. The archivist had informed the press that a 'senior Ministry official' and a 'prominent scholar' had been seen studying old goblin documents confiscated during the first war, and from there the story had snowballed.
Fortunately the archivist himself was too young to have read the unexpurgated version of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, and so had not realised what the documents referred to; by the time older hands at the Prophet had made the right guess based on his description and put in a viewing request, Kingsley had ordered them reclassified as 'restricted due to being part of an ongoing Ministry investigation'. That had kept the location a secret, but it couldn't prevent the subject receiving a lot of speculative publicity. The Prophet had reprinted the entire Tale of the Good Goblin for the benefit of its younger readers; the inevitable consequence had been fury on the part of the goblins, partly because they found it insulting, partly at the idea that the Ministry were meddling with goblin heritage. Cadwallader was also less than pleased, partly about the goblin reaction, and partly because he had not been told what his assistant was up to.
In short, it was a mess. Percy was glad to be well away from it all, although he wasn't looking forward to the debriefing when he got back.
McGonagall turned out to know some impressive diagnostic spells, which Percy found he was able to pick up quickly after a crash course. The results confirmed that the unknown scholars who had drawn up the maps had been on to something. There was a lonely hill on the far side of the island, which from a simple visual inspection seemed to be a natural feature of the landscape, overgrown with heather; but when Percy tried a sweep for the presence of magic, to his pleased surprise he detected weak but distinct traces all over the hill.
"Very faint, but it's definitely there," was McGonagall's assessment when he drew it to her attention. She tried a few more silent spells, frowning at the results. "I do believe that it's a Muggle-Repelling spell. That makes sense."
"Why would it be so faint?" asked Percy. "Can they fade over time?"
"Oh my, yes. This one's so weak, I find the idea that it was cast centuries ago entirely plausible." She frowned. "Strengthen it if you would be so kind, Percy. I want to try a little trick I learnt from your brother, and I don't want anybody else to see me."
"My bro --" Percy bit off the question, as it was clear that she wasn't listening. "Repello Muggletum," he muttered, swinging his wand round the hill. He turned to tell her it was done, but never got the words out.
McGonagall was standing stock still, with her wand held high as if she were just about to start conducting an invisible orchestra. She seemed to be gathering her concentration for something dramatic, so the spell, when it came, was almost an anticlimax; a gentle sweep of the wand and a softly spoken "Revelio Cartographia." The effects, however, were much more impressive; it was as if the hill itself became translucent, revealing a network of chambers underneath. They were on several levels, but each layer seemed to come into focus as you concentrated on it, with the others fading out; the effect was hard on the eyes, and Percy had to squint for a few minutes before he got the hang of it.
"Minerva?" he said tentatively. "It looks as if it goes about six levels down, but I can't see anything in the chambers."
"You wouldn't, I'm afraid. All this spell does is map out the internal structure -- comes in handy for pyramids, I'm told. Let's see now; if I'm following this correctly, it looks as if there's an entrance just about there." She pointed to an unremarkable spot on the hillside from which a ghostly tunnel appeared to lead. "Let's take a closer look, shall we?"
Vanishing some of the overgrowth, and a fair chunk of the hill itself, did indeed reveal the entrance to a tunnel. It was clearly constructed rather than a natural feature -- it was ringed with shaped stones, and there were the crushed remnants of what might once have been a wooden door in the gap. After the first rush of excitement at this discovery, they contemplated it in silence for a while.
"We probably shouldn't, should we?" asked Percy eventually. He was rather proud of the way he kept his voice steady; he was not about to admit to being scared, either to himself or to his old Head of House.
"Absolutely not," said McGonagall, without moving.
"Apparating into those chambers would be suicide unless you knew what was down there."
"This tunnel clearly leads into the heart of the hill. It's goblin sized, admittedly."
"Perhaps you need to be a goblin to get in? Wasn't Professor Dumbledore considering a goblin investigator?"
"He -- well, his portrait -- couldn't remember. But I wouldn't have thought it mattered," McGonagall said slowly. "If there are traps, they would probably be intended to keep anyone from getting the helmet, whether goblin or human."
Percy cast a very powerful Lumos and used it to illuminate the passage. "There seems to be loads of rubble blocking it," he said, half disappointed and half relieved. "Even a house elf couldn't get through without crawling."
"An animal could."
"Well yes, but ..." Percy suddenly found himself talking to thin air. He looked down the tunnel and saw the tail of a cat disappearing round the first bend. "Oh. Right." He'd completely forgotten she could do that. "I'll just hang around here then, shall I?"
He waited with an increasing feeling of unease as nothing happened for a good ten minutes. He had no idea whether or not this indicated a rescue attempt was needed, nor how he might go about attempting one if it was. So when a silvery cat suddenly shot out of the hillside at him, he jumped as if it had been a Bludger.
"Perfectly safe. Apparate to me," said the cat in a crisp Scottish accent.
With a sigh of resignation, Percy focussed on McGonagall and turned on the spot.
The king was overjoyed at this discovery, for the stone would fill the one chink in his armour. If he could defeat the beast he would be truly invulnerable in battle -- if he could only locate the castle where Eretek had thought the stone was to be found. He took counsel of the scholars at his court, although he was careful not to say why he wished to know; they told him, though not without curiosity, that it could only refer to an old goblin stronghold on a remote island, long since abandoned.
So the king slipped away from his court without telling any of his followers whence he went, and journeyed to the island, and entered into the castle. There were defences, but his martial and magical skill was fully equal to them. And so at length he came to the final chamber, where the stone was set on a pedestal. But in his way was a fearsome creature like none he had seen before -- its scales shone as if made of living metal, and as it bared its silvery teeth and flexed its formidable tail, he could sense the fire within its heart.
'The Tale of the Good Goblin'
Minerva had encountered the opening that led into the top level chamber without warning, after a daunting trip through the dark tunnel, and her heart had been in her mouth as she tumbled into space. Only the reflexes that came with her cat form had kept her in one piece. It was less alarming once she returned to human form and produced some illumination from her wand, but her message of "Perfectly safe" had been at least partly bravado. She was absolutely not going to admit to nerves in front of a former student who had been in her House.
When Percy appeared next to her and added his own Lumos, the surroundings became much clearer. The chamber appeared to have been simply carved out of the rock. It would doubtless have been very spacious from a goblin point of view, but Percy was so tall he had only about six inches clearance between the ceiling and the top of his head.
"There isn't really a savage beast down here, is there?" he asked. "I know it's a legend and all that, but so was the Chamber of Secrets ..."
Minerva considered this question. "Almost certainly not. If there's anything in the Tale -- and given what we've found already, I'm prepared to wager you a hundred Galleons that there is -- it would have been killed by the original goblin king ... But there were supposed to be other defences, so be careful. Don't touch anything unless I tell you it's safe," she added urgently.
"All right." Fortunately, Percy was the sort of person who would actually follow instructions, unlike certain former students she could think of! She moved around the cave with great caution, muttering little-used spells and occasionally a "Ha!" of satisfaction as one of them revealed a trap. Percy watched in fascination. "We never learnt that in Defence against the Dark Arts," he said with a touch of envy as she neutralised another one.
Minerva smiled at him. "Under the circumstances, I'm surprised you learnt anything at all. Not that we teach this anyway -- it's rather specialised."
"Did Bill ..."
"Indeed. When we joined the Order I asked him for a quick refresher course in curse breaking. Got you!" she added in triumph as a flash from the stone wall lit up the chamber and a hidden door slid open, revealing a passage leading downwards. It wasn't large, but it was wide enough for them to stand side by side, and a human could navigate it with no more than a slight stoop. She hesitated for a moment, but having got this far, there didn't seem to be any point in backing out now. "Well, we seem to be making progress. Follow me, and keep your wand handy."
Their journey through the levels was slow. There were nasty and increasingly dangerous surprises lying in wait at irregular intervals -- everything from spikes shooting out of the walls to pits that suddenly opened underfoot -- and by the time they reached the entrance to the central chamber, six levels down, Minerva had really begun to worry. At first she had consoled herself with the thought that they could Apparate out of danger if necessary, but somewhere around the fourth level they had entered a zone in which Apparation was blocked. The deeper they went, the more dangerous it seemed.
The entrance itself provided a distraction from these reflections: it was of course defended, and as they approached it began to throw fireballs at them, but by now they had got used to working in tandem. She conjured shields to divert the missiles while Percy neutralised the trap with a Freezing Charm, and they paused to gather their breath.
A goblin-sized door stood invitingly ajar in front of them. Percy gazed at it with great suspicion. "This is all a bit too easy, isn't it?" he said after a minute.
"Easy?" Minerva was so startled she forgot her doubts.
"Well ..." Percy seemed to be having trouble meeting her eye. "Look, there's been nothing so far that we couldn't handle, but neither of us are specialists in curse-breaking -- I'm a bureaucrat, you're a teacher. It's like ... like the traps have only been there to weed out the people who aren't worth the effort of the ... well, whatever's in there."
"The fearsome beast?"
"Well, that's what it says, doesn't it?" Percy threw up his hands. "But it could be anything."
Minerva shuddered. She wasn't keen to get herself killed -- or worse, trapped -- down here, but she absolutely hated the thought that she might lead Percy Weasley to his death as a result of her own curiosity. "We can go and get help from the Ministry if you think it's advisable?"
"Nooo ..." Percy took a deep breath. "Someone's got to do it before the secret gets out, and we're here now. In for a Knut, in for a Galleon, right? Can you send one of those -- er, messages to Minister Shacklebolt to tell him what we're doing, though? Just in case? He might send help if he's got anyone available he can trust."
"A Patronus isn't very secret," she said with a slight smile. "However ..." She concentrated for a moment and sent the silvery cat flying from her wand and along the passages they had travelled through. "There, that will inform the portraits in my office. Albus can pass on the message as soon as he sees the coast is clear."
As she finally made eye contact with Percy she had a fleeting feeling that they were about to do something bold but very, very rash, regardless of whether it made sense or not, and he looked as if he had the same idea. If she was any judge, they both rather liked the feeling. "Let's find out," he said in an oddly excited voice. In response, she pushed the door fully open and stepped inside.
They found themselves in a long narrow paved chamber, with a roof so high it was lost in the darkness. At the far end of the room the last few yards were taken up by a dais, raised up a couple of feet from the floor and set flush with the walls. Upon it, a golden statue of a tall goblin warrior in gleaming armour stood unmoving, a mute guardian for the helmet lovingly displayed in a deep recess behind it. The helmet itself glowed with a soft light that seemed to seep out into the room; it threw the statue into sharp relief, and reflected off silvery threads inlaid into the floor in front of the dais.
Minerva exchanged grim looks with Percy; they moved forward slowly, with extreme trepidation, but no arrows or pits or fireballs awaited them. The utter stillness in the room was unnerving. As they approached the inlays, their nature became clearer -- two lines of runes, forming distinct messages.
"How's your runic knowledge, Percy?" she whispered.
He peered at them, pushing his glasses to the end of his nose. "I can't read the nearest line," he said quietly. "I think it's in goblin runes again? The other one is in wizard runes, it says something about 'bravery' and 'skill', and also 'return' -- could they be giving anyone who gets this far a chance to back out?"
That was an idea. "We might just take them up on that. Or it could be another trap. Take a good long look at what it says first."
Percy nodded and moved forward to get a better view, which proved to be the wrong thing to do. As soon as he took the next step, the statue came to life; it jumped down from the dais and raised its sword.
King Boldrund fought the beast, and found to his glee that nothing it did could touch him while he wore the helmet that Eretek had wrought for him. Its teeth broke when it tried to bite, its claws could not rake him, the poison barbs bounced off without harm to the king, and the fire simply washed past him. When he moved in close one swing of his sword was enough, and the creature's silvery head was detached from its body.
The king stepped forward, savouring his victory. He removed the gauntlet from his hand and seized the stone, and knew one moment of glorious triumph before a burning fire ran through his veins. He fell to the floor, gasping for breath, until he drew breath no more.
'The Tale of the Good Goblin'
Percy stepped backward in considerable alarm. The guardian moved fluidly, as if the metal it was made of were muscle and bone. It closed the gap between them and swung viciously at McGonagall, who blocked its strike with a Shield Charm and hurled back a Stunning Spell, which simply bounced off, as did his own Impedimenta.
"I'll fight it, you try to get the helmet!" cried McGonagall, sending a stream of silvery fire at the statue from the end of her wand. That proved to be easier said than done. The guardian effortlessly blocked the spell with its shield, and the ricochet nearly took Percy's head off, as did the back-stroke of its sword which immediately followed. A Summoning Spell had no effect on the goblin king's helmet. He hadn't really expected that it would.
After that, things took a turn for the worse.
The guardian was terrifyingly fast, its sword a blur as it slashed at them, and in the poorly-lit confined space it was all they could do to block its strokes. Whenever they managed to get in a spell of their own, it didn't help. Their foe was clearly powerfully magical; simple fighting spells made no impression at all, nor did McGonagall's attempts at transfiguration, and when they tried more forceful spells it was as swift with its shield as with its sword -- both self-evidently goblin-made and thus virtually indestructible. And despite its continued attacks, it always kept itself positioned between them and the recess, all the while steadily pushing them backwards towards the door.
McGonagall's next move was to conjure a thick privet hedge between them and the guardian, which gave them a few minutes of respite while the thing hacked its way through. Percy's brain seemed to have stopped working properly; it took him several seconds before he realised that they were hidden from view. That gave him an idea.
He waited, heart in mouth, as close to the gap in the hedge as he dared, and as the guardian blundered through and turned to swing at him, he sent a conjured cannonball hurtling towards it like a Bludger. Although it bounced off without even making a dent, it did at least knock the guardian aside, and Percy seized his chance; he dived through the gap and sprinted towards the far end of the room. He leapt onto the dais and pulled the king's helmet from the recess.
When he turned again, it was to see McGonagall fighting a desperate rearguard action to keep the guardian away from him.
At this point, it dawned on him that their position had, if anything, worsened. They were now trapped at the wrong end of the room, with the fighting becoming so vicious it was starting to make the whole chamber shake. Minerva might be able to sneak past by turning into a cat, but Percy could see no way for him to get to the door before the sword cut him in two. It was difficult enough trying to fight the guardian with his hands free, let alone while carrying the helmet.
No, wait a minute -- there was no need to carry it ...
The helmet was small by human standards and would only balance precariously on top of his head, but it had a strap that would hold it on. "Minerva!" he cried. "It can't hit me if I put the helmet on! I'll cover you, you go for the door!"
She risked a glance at him, and only just managed to block the next sword stroke. "Are you so confident it'll work?"
He fired a curse at the guardian to distract it momentarily. "No. But I don't have any better ideas!"
"All right!" She moved to cover him while he donned the helmet; the chamber was really shaking from the fighting now. Dislodged stones had been hurtling down like missiles for quite a while --
It seemed to dawn on them both at the same time; that wasn't the result of the fighting.
Minerva conjured another of her temporary barriers, a brick wall this time, followed it with a Shield Charm over them, and they glanced upwards in apprehension. Things weren't looking good. Bigger pieces of rock were beginning to fall from the roof high above. No Shield Charm would be enough to survive the entire chamber collapsing on their heads, and even if the helmet worked as advertised it wouldn't prevent him being buried alive. And they had little space to decide any strategy, because that damned guardian was still attacking.
"Percy!" Her hoarse voice diverted his attention from the sight of flying bricks as the wall was rapidly kicked to pieces. "Use the Killing Curse."
"What?"
"Both of us together. One of them must hit." McGonagall's expression was wild, and there was horror in her eyes. "If you can think of anything else to try before the whole hill comes down on top of us, tell me now."
Percy opened his mouth, intending to protest, then realised he had no idea what to say. A Killing Curse? Could he even ... He gave an agonized glance at the guardian, which was now smashing aside the final remnants of the wall. "All right!"
"On my count of three." McGonagall looked paler than he had ever expected to see her look. No doubt he must look the same way. "One, two, three!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
It felt as if a intense destructive green fire had formed inside his mind and then forced itself out through his wand. The guardian's shield absorbed McGonagall's curse but his own struck true; the blast threw the creature backwards, sending it skidding along the floor until it crashed into the wall at the far end of the room.
He took a long, deep, sobbing breath.
The sudden violent fit of trembling that followed almost distracted him from the slight movement at the edge of his vision.
He looked up. The guardian had climbed to its feet and was reaching for its sword.
"It was never really alive ..." McGonagall's voice seemed flat, almost hopeless. "Of course. That's why they could protect the king in the tale. Foolish of me. I'm so, so sorry, Percy. I should never have dragged you into this."
"I was a volunteer, Minerva," he said quietly. The blame was as much his as anyone's; if there was one thing the war had taught him, it was how to recognise and take responsibility for his own mistakes -- a valuable lesson, even though this was probably going to be the last mistake he ever made. He was never going to see his family or his friends or Audrey again ... The guardian strode towards them, sword at the ready. Rocks were beginning to rain down on it, but they didn't even seem to strike, let alone cause any damage. "Er, what do we do?"
Her quick glance at him held the ghost of her familiar wry smile. "At this point? Anything that occurs to you."
She flicked her wand at the guardian; a ball of flame hurtled towards it and detonated against the shield. She did it again and again and again as it tried to advance; the explosions rocked the chamber even more alarmingly, but did succeed in pushing the guardian backwards as if it were struggling against a high wind. It slashed at him as it lurched forward and he jerked back without thinking, then cursed himself for his stupidity. The sword couldn't strike him, although it didn't stop the blows from hurting ...
He looked down at the blossoming red stain on his sleeve with a sudden sick horror. The cut the sword tip had made was shallow, but it had definitely struck him. The helmet was useless.
Then, as an ominous creaking sound came from far above, it suddenly dawned on him what Alkteg must have done.
He pulled off the helmet and threw it at the guardian, which checked its stroke and snatched at the helmet like a Seeker grabbing for a Snitch. Percy didn't hesitate; instead of backing away, he dived forwards while it was hampered by trying to keep hold of the helmet as well as its sword. He avoided a clumsy blow, came up behind the guardian -- and snatched its helmet, planting it on his own head and holding it there tightly.
He couldn't avoid the followup slash of the sword, but this time it didn't matter. This time, the blow slid off harmlessly. This time, the weapon couldn't strike him.
He would have whooped in triumph if the roof had not chosen that moment to finally cave in completely.
Rocks rained down around him, first small ones, then larger jagged chunks, then great boulders, but they all seemed to bounce off just as they had when the guardian had been wearing this helmet. The rockfall went on and on for what seemed like hours; the noise was indescribable, and he had to fight to prevent himself flinching away and losing his grip on the helmet. It took several minutes for him to realise that it had finally come to a stop.
Percy looked around, uncomprehending. He was standing in an open patch in front of what had once been the dais, with the rest of the chamber filled by a pile of rubble that had to be twenty feet high in places. Far above he could see a patch of open sky. The dais itself and the recess where the helmet had been displayed appeared to have remained intact, although the guardian statue had not; it lay shattered in feebly twitching pieces, which as he watched gave one final threatening wave of the sword and then stilled.
Where was McGonagall? "Minerva?" he called faintly. "Minerva!" He almost couldn't bear to look. Was she somewhere underneath all that? Would she have been able to conjure something, anything, to block the rockfall? It was doubtless enchanted --
He turned sharply at a faint noise of moving pebbles behind him. The opening of the recess was almost completely blocked, but as he watched a very shaken looking tabby cat wriggled its way out from inside through the narrow gaps between the rocks. Percy sagged in relief.
"Percy? PERCY!"
"Professor! Anyone?"
"Who's that?" asked Minerva, returning to her usual form and straining to hear the faint cries from above.
"Ron and Harry, I think." He had never been more pleased to hear his little brother's voice. "Kingsley must have sent them to help. Just in time for a rescue."
Alkteg and Beauregard stepped forward from their hiding place, and looked at the dead king in triumph. For Alkteg had constructed a guardian according to his father's instructions; while it could not defeat the king while he wore the helmet, it had convinced him to believe in the story, and to take the stone without caution. As for Beauregard, he had coated the gem with a poison devised from his mother's recipe, against which the helmet was no defence.
And although Alkteg knew that as the son of Eretek, he could make himself king of the goblins in turn with the help of the helmet, he did not wish for power, nor for war with wizardkind. And so the good goblin and his wizard friend placed the helmet where it could not be found, and went on their way, and without Boldrund the goblins did not make war in the land. And even now the helmet is where they left it, for no-one since has raised himself to power with its aid.
'The Tale of the Good Goblin'
The Senior Conference Room of Gringotts (Diagon Alley Head Office Branch) doubled as the place where most of the important goblin councils were held. It was a huge oak-panelled room reached via long marbled corridors and next door to a truly impressive library; wizards and witches were rarely allowed to attend a meeting there, and Minerva had certainly never expected to be invited to one as a guest. Now she was here, she proposed to enjoy the experience -- insofar as that was possible. This was, after all, no ordinary meeting. It was more in the nature of a diplomatic summit, and she was present as part of a small delegation.
In addition to herself and Kingsley, the Ministry representatives included Cadwallader and of course Percy, together with Percy's secretary, officially there to act as scribe (but mostly because Percy had insisted that as she had been involved from the beginning and kept quiet about it, she had the right to see how it turned out). Three tough-looking Aurors completed the party. On the goblin side, there were senior staff from Gringotts and high-level representatives from the Brotherhood of Goblins. Chief Cooperation Officer Lordruk was their designated spokesgoblin, although he was in a far from cooperative mood.
"Very well, Minister Shacklebolt, we have arranged for this meeting in response to your request," said Lordruk, his voice cold. "I presume it has something to do with the rumours that have been published in the wizard press -- together, I might add, with a repeat of a very insultingly slanted children's tale that we thought we had seen the last of forty years ago?"
"It has something to do with them, yes," replied Kingsley equably. "Although there is much more to it than that. I'd like to ask Professor McGonagall and Mr Weasley to describe the results of their investigations for you."
Minerva exchanged uneasy glances with Percy. Kingsley had not mentioned that he intended to throw the spotlight on them, but they could hardly expect to get away without telling their story. She cleared her throat. "Well, it all began when I discovered some notes that had been left behind by Albus Dumbledore ..."
The goblins listened in stony-faced silence while they outlined their investigations and adventures. with the only exception being a look of scornful amusement when the name Kefrak was mentioned. When the tale finally came to a halt, they did not speak for several seconds. "Let me see if I understand you correctly," said Lordruk finally. "With the aid of the researches of goblin scholars, as recorded in documents stolen from a goblin, wizards have once again claimed a priceless goblin heirloom for their own. And you came to tell us this why?"
"I'm glad you asked," said Kingsley before anyone else could speak. He seemed to be able to manage an admirable equanimity despite the barely suppressed fury emanating from the goblins. "As soon as the matter came to my attention, I sent a special task force of representatives from the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix to investigate. If there was truly anything in the story, I considered it vital to recover the helmet before it could be stolen by wizards who might wish to sell it illegally or use it for criminal purposes." Minerva managed to keep her face impassive at this somewhat bowdlerised version of the facts. "And on that note -- gentlemen, if you would?" He nodded to the Aurors, one of whom reached into his bag and took out the helmet. "I thought it wise to keep this concealed on our journey here, to avoid exciting speculation."
The goblins leaned towards him slowly, although they gave the impression that they would rather have rushed forward. "That, at least, we can agree with," said Lordruk. "Why have you brought this here? Have you come merely to gloat? Or will you now claim you have to keep it from goblin hands, because of some laughable fear that we would use it against you? And doubtless you will still expect docile agreement to your demands about how we at Gringotts should run our bank?
"Not at all," said Kingsley. "The helmet is, as you say, a priceless goblin heirloom, which Minerva McGonagall and Percy Weasley have recovered -- at some considerable risk to themselves, I might add. I would never attempt to claim it for the Ministry. In fact, we would now like to present it to you as a gesture of good faith. I have complete confidence that it will be given the highest possible security."
He nodded to the Auror holding the helmet, who stepped forward, bowed, and presented it to a thunderstruck Lordruk. "I -- I -- well, that is another matter." He looked around at his colleagues, who appeared if anything even more taken aback. "If you will excuse us, we would like to confer among ourselves for a moment?"
"Of course."
The goblins retreated to the far end of the room and carried out a rapid but heated conversation in whispered Gobbledegook. Minerva did not trust herself to speak. From Percy's sideways glances, he looked as if he didn't trust Cadwallader to speak, but presumably the Head of Department had now been thoroughly briefed by Kingsley and was under orders not to.
Some ten minutes had passed by the time the goblins returned. "We are -- pleasantly surprised at this development," said Lordruk stiffly. "You may not realise, but this is an artefact almost of legend for a goblin, rather like the Elder Wand was for wizards. We will take great care of it, I assure you. We never expected that it would actually be found."
"Well, now it's returned to you," said Kingsley, with a smile.
"Yes. And frankly, we did not expect that either. We have seldom found wizards so trustworthy in the past, and for that, we thank you." He seemed to be having some difficulty with the last few words. "You did not ask directly, but we are all in agreement that we should offer some recompense for your trouble. To begin with, perhaps our new rules were an overreaction -- we would be happy to return to the previous policies regarding vault security. At the end of the day, we all wish to protect our treasures as best we can."
"That's very much appreciated. Especially as these two managed to get past purely goblin defences to get your treasure for you, and without a goblin to tell them what they were facing this time," said Cadwallader in jocular tones. Percy winced and closed his eyes; even Kingsley's smile had become rather fixed. "Still, fair's fair, I'm sure you'd have got past wizard defences just the same," he added hastily. "Working together, that's the main thing, isn't it? If we trust each other a bit more, give each other a chance, maybe we can make a fresh start of it when we get back to the talks?"
To Minerva's surprise, Lordruk actually smiled tolerantly at this. Perhaps he recognised that even though Cadwallader was gauche, he was sincere -- or maybe he had simply noticed the reactions of the rest of the delegation. "We will see," he said. "If your colleagues had consulted the goblins first, they would have had the goblin version of the tale, rather than the childish and inaccurate version written by Boodle. Then they would have known what they would be facing." This provoked sharp laughter from some of the other goblins.
"I don't understand," said Minerva. "The maps led us to the right place?"
"Of course they did, for they were based on our tradition, not yours." Lordruk seemed highly amused by the looks of blank incomprehension on the faces of the Ministry representatives. "King Boldrund the Bearded indeed! He was no king! Among goblins, the ruler is the most skilful, not the most savage. Eretek was the true king -- Boldrund attempted to seize the rule by force, and nearly succeeded. A dark day in our history, but one that is forgotten by wizards. Alkteg is a hero to us too, but he stands first among many who resisted Boldrund, not as the only 'good goblin' of your tale." He paused, considering. "Well, perhaps it would help us work together if you were more aware of some of our traditions. Few of you are, since Albus Dumbledore passed on."
He clicked his fingers and spoke a word of Gobbledegook and a leather-bound volume flew towards him from the library, which he caught and presented to Minerva with a small bow. She took it and raised her eyebrows; the title was in goblin runes, but by now she could make out a few of the words, including the name of the author. Now that explained a lot. She held it up so Percy could see, and his eyebrows rose too.
"Are you sure we can trust them with the helmet, Minister?" asked Percy quietly as they left the bank. Cadwallader looked at him reprovingly.
"Oh, I think so. The current lot, anyway. And if we can't --" Kingsley shrugged "-- well, it's just one artefact. Even without the use of a Killing Curse there are ways to defeat any goblin wearing it, as you proved. Or there's always poison, like the goblin in the tale!" he added, with a wry smile.
"Cornelius Fudge is clearly your go-to man for advice on poisoning goblins," said Percy. He was somewhat taken aback when they all stared at him open mouthed. "It's a joke!" he said, turning red. "I do make them sometimes, you know!"
Minerva laughed with them all, mostly in relief that Percy was not officially confirming the Quibbler's worst suspicions. She held up the book. "I think we need to work on translating this, Percy," she said. "I've a feeling that when we do, the joke just might be on us."
Alkteg looked on the helmet with longing, and also with deep sadness; for his father the king had made it, the finest creation of his hands, and it was his to hold and to use by right. But he saw that to do so would bring woe and envy and death down upon the goblin race just as it had for Boldrund, for even as he looked he saw both fear and covetousness in the guise of his wizard companion. So he restored the helmet to its hiding place, and set an invulnerable guardian to defend it, and made it into a foundation of the very castle itself. And Beauregard agreed that this should not be told among wizards. But among goblins, Alkteg's sacrifice of right is remembered and honoured to this day.
From 'The Sacrifice of Right' (Collected Traditions of Kefrak the Loremaster No 105)
A first translation from the original runes by Minerva McGonagall and Percy Weasley
Obscurus Press 2006
Additional Notes:
I'm not sure where this came from, except that the "like to receive" request said "Percy Weasley, Minerva McGonagall, historical, mystery, minor characters (especially older generations) ... if it's off the beaten track it's quite likely I'll like it, especially if there's a bit of fun world-building". That probably suggested Pottermore and Beedle as source materials I hadn't really used before, especially as the bit about goblin rulers in the Pottermore "Sword of Gryffindor" piece had just come to my attention.
This was one of those kitchen-sink fics that ended up including various elements that appeared as the story was written! Dumbledore's portrait was included because the obvious thing for Minerva to do on finding the note would be to ask it what it was about, the others kind of came in handy for exposition. I had no idea that Audrey was going to make an appearance when I started writing, but when I came to write Percy interacting with his secretary and McGonagall I thought it might be amusing to work in a bit of pre-Percy/Audrey. And wizarding politics became part of the story because, well, that tends to be one of my tropes, doesn't it?
Once I hit on the basic idea of "Beedle tale based on real events, McG and Percy investigate, twist with the helmet at the end" it seemed obvious to make it one of those stories in which another tale is interleaved with the main plot, so that they run in parallel and complement each other to a certain extent. Although I had the basic idea for the Beedle tale, most of the detail was worked out after (largely) finishing the main story in order to fit, although I did always want to go for a sort of Rosebud/Simisola effect in which the meaning of the title and/or a significant reference only becomes apparent when you get to the end.
The magic gave me a lot of trouble here -- as in "why is the helmet any good when the wizards have the Killing Curse, and why can't they beat the guardian easily?" Hopefully it makes reasonable sense.
Length: 14,500 words, this part 6,650
Part One
Alkteg returned to the court of King Boldrund and met with him privately, showing him a note that had been discovered within his father's papers. And from this the king learned that the ruby Eretek had placed in the helmet had not been his first choice. For there was a legendary gemstone hidden within a castle in the far north, and it was said that it would confer resistance to any curse, even the killing curse, to the one who first took it in his hand.
But legend also had it that the castle was guarded by a savage beast that none could defeat. For the beast's teeth were as spears, and its claws swords; its breath was fire, and it shot poisoned barbs from its tail; no magic would affect it. Only a hero such as the king, with the aid of his enchanted helmet, could hope to stand a chance of overcoming the beast and claiming the stone.
'The Tale of the Good Goblin'
The supposed site of the castle was a small island off the Scottish coast. According to the documents, two hundred years ago there had been a modest but thriving community of crofters here, whose presence had made an unobtrusive investigation difficult -- for an investigator who looked like a goblin, at any rate. But nowadays there were no more than a handful of occupied houses left, and Percy and McGonagall were able to explain away their interest in searching for medieval ruins by passing themselves off as eccentric amateur archaeologists.
Over the following week they managed to carry out a cautious but thorough search of the entire island without exciting any attention more serious than a scornful comment about the idiocy of mainlanders -- a search whose sense of urgency was however greatly increased by the owl that arrived from Kingsley on the fourth day. The archivist had informed the press that a 'senior Ministry official' and a 'prominent scholar' had been seen studying old goblin documents confiscated during the first war, and from there the story had snowballed.
Fortunately the archivist himself was too young to have read the unexpurgated version of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, and so had not realised what the documents referred to; by the time older hands at the Prophet had made the right guess based on his description and put in a viewing request, Kingsley had ordered them reclassified as 'restricted due to being part of an ongoing Ministry investigation'. That had kept the location a secret, but it couldn't prevent the subject receiving a lot of speculative publicity. The Prophet had reprinted the entire Tale of the Good Goblin for the benefit of its younger readers; the inevitable consequence had been fury on the part of the goblins, partly because they found it insulting, partly at the idea that the Ministry were meddling with goblin heritage. Cadwallader was also less than pleased, partly about the goblin reaction, and partly because he had not been told what his assistant was up to.
In short, it was a mess. Percy was glad to be well away from it all, although he wasn't looking forward to the debriefing when he got back.
McGonagall turned out to know some impressive diagnostic spells, which Percy found he was able to pick up quickly after a crash course. The results confirmed that the unknown scholars who had drawn up the maps had been on to something. There was a lonely hill on the far side of the island, which from a simple visual inspection seemed to be a natural feature of the landscape, overgrown with heather; but when Percy tried a sweep for the presence of magic, to his pleased surprise he detected weak but distinct traces all over the hill.
"Very faint, but it's definitely there," was McGonagall's assessment when he drew it to her attention. She tried a few more silent spells, frowning at the results. "I do believe that it's a Muggle-Repelling spell. That makes sense."
"Why would it be so faint?" asked Percy. "Can they fade over time?"
"Oh my, yes. This one's so weak, I find the idea that it was cast centuries ago entirely plausible." She frowned. "Strengthen it if you would be so kind, Percy. I want to try a little trick I learnt from your brother, and I don't want anybody else to see me."
"My bro --" Percy bit off the question, as it was clear that she wasn't listening. "Repello Muggletum," he muttered, swinging his wand round the hill. He turned to tell her it was done, but never got the words out.
McGonagall was standing stock still, with her wand held high as if she were just about to start conducting an invisible orchestra. She seemed to be gathering her concentration for something dramatic, so the spell, when it came, was almost an anticlimax; a gentle sweep of the wand and a softly spoken "Revelio Cartographia." The effects, however, were much more impressive; it was as if the hill itself became translucent, revealing a network of chambers underneath. They were on several levels, but each layer seemed to come into focus as you concentrated on it, with the others fading out; the effect was hard on the eyes, and Percy had to squint for a few minutes before he got the hang of it.
"Minerva?" he said tentatively. "It looks as if it goes about six levels down, but I can't see anything in the chambers."
"You wouldn't, I'm afraid. All this spell does is map out the internal structure -- comes in handy for pyramids, I'm told. Let's see now; if I'm following this correctly, it looks as if there's an entrance just about there." She pointed to an unremarkable spot on the hillside from which a ghostly tunnel appeared to lead. "Let's take a closer look, shall we?"
Vanishing some of the overgrowth, and a fair chunk of the hill itself, did indeed reveal the entrance to a tunnel. It was clearly constructed rather than a natural feature -- it was ringed with shaped stones, and there were the crushed remnants of what might once have been a wooden door in the gap. After the first rush of excitement at this discovery, they contemplated it in silence for a while.
"We probably shouldn't, should we?" asked Percy eventually. He was rather proud of the way he kept his voice steady; he was not about to admit to being scared, either to himself or to his old Head of House.
"Absolutely not," said McGonagall, without moving.
"Apparating into those chambers would be suicide unless you knew what was down there."
"This tunnel clearly leads into the heart of the hill. It's goblin sized, admittedly."
"Perhaps you need to be a goblin to get in? Wasn't Professor Dumbledore considering a goblin investigator?"
"He -- well, his portrait -- couldn't remember. But I wouldn't have thought it mattered," McGonagall said slowly. "If there are traps, they would probably be intended to keep anyone from getting the helmet, whether goblin or human."
Percy cast a very powerful Lumos and used it to illuminate the passage. "There seems to be loads of rubble blocking it," he said, half disappointed and half relieved. "Even a house elf couldn't get through without crawling."
"An animal could."
"Well yes, but ..." Percy suddenly found himself talking to thin air. He looked down the tunnel and saw the tail of a cat disappearing round the first bend. "Oh. Right." He'd completely forgotten she could do that. "I'll just hang around here then, shall I?"
He waited with an increasing feeling of unease as nothing happened for a good ten minutes. He had no idea whether or not this indicated a rescue attempt was needed, nor how he might go about attempting one if it was. So when a silvery cat suddenly shot out of the hillside at him, he jumped as if it had been a Bludger.
"Perfectly safe. Apparate to me," said the cat in a crisp Scottish accent.
With a sigh of resignation, Percy focussed on McGonagall and turned on the spot.
The king was overjoyed at this discovery, for the stone would fill the one chink in his armour. If he could defeat the beast he would be truly invulnerable in battle -- if he could only locate the castle where Eretek had thought the stone was to be found. He took counsel of the scholars at his court, although he was careful not to say why he wished to know; they told him, though not without curiosity, that it could only refer to an old goblin stronghold on a remote island, long since abandoned.
So the king slipped away from his court without telling any of his followers whence he went, and journeyed to the island, and entered into the castle. There were defences, but his martial and magical skill was fully equal to them. And so at length he came to the final chamber, where the stone was set on a pedestal. But in his way was a fearsome creature like none he had seen before -- its scales shone as if made of living metal, and as it bared its silvery teeth and flexed its formidable tail, he could sense the fire within its heart.
'The Tale of the Good Goblin'
Minerva had encountered the opening that led into the top level chamber without warning, after a daunting trip through the dark tunnel, and her heart had been in her mouth as she tumbled into space. Only the reflexes that came with her cat form had kept her in one piece. It was less alarming once she returned to human form and produced some illumination from her wand, but her message of "Perfectly safe" had been at least partly bravado. She was absolutely not going to admit to nerves in front of a former student who had been in her House.
When Percy appeared next to her and added his own Lumos, the surroundings became much clearer. The chamber appeared to have been simply carved out of the rock. It would doubtless have been very spacious from a goblin point of view, but Percy was so tall he had only about six inches clearance between the ceiling and the top of his head.
"There isn't really a savage beast down here, is there?" he asked. "I know it's a legend and all that, but so was the Chamber of Secrets ..."
Minerva considered this question. "Almost certainly not. If there's anything in the Tale -- and given what we've found already, I'm prepared to wager you a hundred Galleons that there is -- it would have been killed by the original goblin king ... But there were supposed to be other defences, so be careful. Don't touch anything unless I tell you it's safe," she added urgently.
"All right." Fortunately, Percy was the sort of person who would actually follow instructions, unlike certain former students she could think of! She moved around the cave with great caution, muttering little-used spells and occasionally a "Ha!" of satisfaction as one of them revealed a trap. Percy watched in fascination. "We never learnt that in Defence against the Dark Arts," he said with a touch of envy as she neutralised another one.
Minerva smiled at him. "Under the circumstances, I'm surprised you learnt anything at all. Not that we teach this anyway -- it's rather specialised."
"Did Bill ..."
"Indeed. When we joined the Order I asked him for a quick refresher course in curse breaking. Got you!" she added in triumph as a flash from the stone wall lit up the chamber and a hidden door slid open, revealing a passage leading downwards. It wasn't large, but it was wide enough for them to stand side by side, and a human could navigate it with no more than a slight stoop. She hesitated for a moment, but having got this far, there didn't seem to be any point in backing out now. "Well, we seem to be making progress. Follow me, and keep your wand handy."
Their journey through the levels was slow. There were nasty and increasingly dangerous surprises lying in wait at irregular intervals -- everything from spikes shooting out of the walls to pits that suddenly opened underfoot -- and by the time they reached the entrance to the central chamber, six levels down, Minerva had really begun to worry. At first she had consoled herself with the thought that they could Apparate out of danger if necessary, but somewhere around the fourth level they had entered a zone in which Apparation was blocked. The deeper they went, the more dangerous it seemed.
The entrance itself provided a distraction from these reflections: it was of course defended, and as they approached it began to throw fireballs at them, but by now they had got used to working in tandem. She conjured shields to divert the missiles while Percy neutralised the trap with a Freezing Charm, and they paused to gather their breath.
A goblin-sized door stood invitingly ajar in front of them. Percy gazed at it with great suspicion. "This is all a bit too easy, isn't it?" he said after a minute.
"Easy?" Minerva was so startled she forgot her doubts.
"Well ..." Percy seemed to be having trouble meeting her eye. "Look, there's been nothing so far that we couldn't handle, but neither of us are specialists in curse-breaking -- I'm a bureaucrat, you're a teacher. It's like ... like the traps have only been there to weed out the people who aren't worth the effort of the ... well, whatever's in there."
"The fearsome beast?"
"Well, that's what it says, doesn't it?" Percy threw up his hands. "But it could be anything."
Minerva shuddered. She wasn't keen to get herself killed -- or worse, trapped -- down here, but she absolutely hated the thought that she might lead Percy Weasley to his death as a result of her own curiosity. "We can go and get help from the Ministry if you think it's advisable?"
"Nooo ..." Percy took a deep breath. "Someone's got to do it before the secret gets out, and we're here now. In for a Knut, in for a Galleon, right? Can you send one of those -- er, messages to Minister Shacklebolt to tell him what we're doing, though? Just in case? He might send help if he's got anyone available he can trust."
"A Patronus isn't very secret," she said with a slight smile. "However ..." She concentrated for a moment and sent the silvery cat flying from her wand and along the passages they had travelled through. "There, that will inform the portraits in my office. Albus can pass on the message as soon as he sees the coast is clear."
As she finally made eye contact with Percy she had a fleeting feeling that they were about to do something bold but very, very rash, regardless of whether it made sense or not, and he looked as if he had the same idea. If she was any judge, they both rather liked the feeling. "Let's find out," he said in an oddly excited voice. In response, she pushed the door fully open and stepped inside.
They found themselves in a long narrow paved chamber, with a roof so high it was lost in the darkness. At the far end of the room the last few yards were taken up by a dais, raised up a couple of feet from the floor and set flush with the walls. Upon it, a golden statue of a tall goblin warrior in gleaming armour stood unmoving, a mute guardian for the helmet lovingly displayed in a deep recess behind it. The helmet itself glowed with a soft light that seemed to seep out into the room; it threw the statue into sharp relief, and reflected off silvery threads inlaid into the floor in front of the dais.
Minerva exchanged grim looks with Percy; they moved forward slowly, with extreme trepidation, but no arrows or pits or fireballs awaited them. The utter stillness in the room was unnerving. As they approached the inlays, their nature became clearer -- two lines of runes, forming distinct messages.
"How's your runic knowledge, Percy?" she whispered.
He peered at them, pushing his glasses to the end of his nose. "I can't read the nearest line," he said quietly. "I think it's in goblin runes again? The other one is in wizard runes, it says something about 'bravery' and 'skill', and also 'return' -- could they be giving anyone who gets this far a chance to back out?"
That was an idea. "We might just take them up on that. Or it could be another trap. Take a good long look at what it says first."
Percy nodded and moved forward to get a better view, which proved to be the wrong thing to do. As soon as he took the next step, the statue came to life; it jumped down from the dais and raised its sword.
King Boldrund fought the beast, and found to his glee that nothing it did could touch him while he wore the helmet that Eretek had wrought for him. Its teeth broke when it tried to bite, its claws could not rake him, the poison barbs bounced off without harm to the king, and the fire simply washed past him. When he moved in close one swing of his sword was enough, and the creature's silvery head was detached from its body.
The king stepped forward, savouring his victory. He removed the gauntlet from his hand and seized the stone, and knew one moment of glorious triumph before a burning fire ran through his veins. He fell to the floor, gasping for breath, until he drew breath no more.
'The Tale of the Good Goblin'
Percy stepped backward in considerable alarm. The guardian moved fluidly, as if the metal it was made of were muscle and bone. It closed the gap between them and swung viciously at McGonagall, who blocked its strike with a Shield Charm and hurled back a Stunning Spell, which simply bounced off, as did his own Impedimenta.
"I'll fight it, you try to get the helmet!" cried McGonagall, sending a stream of silvery fire at the statue from the end of her wand. That proved to be easier said than done. The guardian effortlessly blocked the spell with its shield, and the ricochet nearly took Percy's head off, as did the back-stroke of its sword which immediately followed. A Summoning Spell had no effect on the goblin king's helmet. He hadn't really expected that it would.
After that, things took a turn for the worse.
The guardian was terrifyingly fast, its sword a blur as it slashed at them, and in the poorly-lit confined space it was all they could do to block its strokes. Whenever they managed to get in a spell of their own, it didn't help. Their foe was clearly powerfully magical; simple fighting spells made no impression at all, nor did McGonagall's attempts at transfiguration, and when they tried more forceful spells it was as swift with its shield as with its sword -- both self-evidently goblin-made and thus virtually indestructible. And despite its continued attacks, it always kept itself positioned between them and the recess, all the while steadily pushing them backwards towards the door.
McGonagall's next move was to conjure a thick privet hedge between them and the guardian, which gave them a few minutes of respite while the thing hacked its way through. Percy's brain seemed to have stopped working properly; it took him several seconds before he realised that they were hidden from view. That gave him an idea.
He waited, heart in mouth, as close to the gap in the hedge as he dared, and as the guardian blundered through and turned to swing at him, he sent a conjured cannonball hurtling towards it like a Bludger. Although it bounced off without even making a dent, it did at least knock the guardian aside, and Percy seized his chance; he dived through the gap and sprinted towards the far end of the room. He leapt onto the dais and pulled the king's helmet from the recess.
When he turned again, it was to see McGonagall fighting a desperate rearguard action to keep the guardian away from him.
At this point, it dawned on him that their position had, if anything, worsened. They were now trapped at the wrong end of the room, with the fighting becoming so vicious it was starting to make the whole chamber shake. Minerva might be able to sneak past by turning into a cat, but Percy could see no way for him to get to the door before the sword cut him in two. It was difficult enough trying to fight the guardian with his hands free, let alone while carrying the helmet.
No, wait a minute -- there was no need to carry it ...
The helmet was small by human standards and would only balance precariously on top of his head, but it had a strap that would hold it on. "Minerva!" he cried. "It can't hit me if I put the helmet on! I'll cover you, you go for the door!"
She risked a glance at him, and only just managed to block the next sword stroke. "Are you so confident it'll work?"
He fired a curse at the guardian to distract it momentarily. "No. But I don't have any better ideas!"
"All right!" She moved to cover him while he donned the helmet; the chamber was really shaking from the fighting now. Dislodged stones had been hurtling down like missiles for quite a while --
It seemed to dawn on them both at the same time; that wasn't the result of the fighting.
Minerva conjured another of her temporary barriers, a brick wall this time, followed it with a Shield Charm over them, and they glanced upwards in apprehension. Things weren't looking good. Bigger pieces of rock were beginning to fall from the roof high above. No Shield Charm would be enough to survive the entire chamber collapsing on their heads, and even if the helmet worked as advertised it wouldn't prevent him being buried alive. And they had little space to decide any strategy, because that damned guardian was still attacking.
"Percy!" Her hoarse voice diverted his attention from the sight of flying bricks as the wall was rapidly kicked to pieces. "Use the Killing Curse."
"What?"
"Both of us together. One of them must hit." McGonagall's expression was wild, and there was horror in her eyes. "If you can think of anything else to try before the whole hill comes down on top of us, tell me now."
Percy opened his mouth, intending to protest, then realised he had no idea what to say. A Killing Curse? Could he even ... He gave an agonized glance at the guardian, which was now smashing aside the final remnants of the wall. "All right!"
"On my count of three." McGonagall looked paler than he had ever expected to see her look. No doubt he must look the same way. "One, two, three!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
It felt as if a intense destructive green fire had formed inside his mind and then forced itself out through his wand. The guardian's shield absorbed McGonagall's curse but his own struck true; the blast threw the creature backwards, sending it skidding along the floor until it crashed into the wall at the far end of the room.
He took a long, deep, sobbing breath.
The sudden violent fit of trembling that followed almost distracted him from the slight movement at the edge of his vision.
He looked up. The guardian had climbed to its feet and was reaching for its sword.
"It was never really alive ..." McGonagall's voice seemed flat, almost hopeless. "Of course. That's why they could protect the king in the tale. Foolish of me. I'm so, so sorry, Percy. I should never have dragged you into this."
"I was a volunteer, Minerva," he said quietly. The blame was as much his as anyone's; if there was one thing the war had taught him, it was how to recognise and take responsibility for his own mistakes -- a valuable lesson, even though this was probably going to be the last mistake he ever made. He was never going to see his family or his friends or Audrey again ... The guardian strode towards them, sword at the ready. Rocks were beginning to rain down on it, but they didn't even seem to strike, let alone cause any damage. "Er, what do we do?"
Her quick glance at him held the ghost of her familiar wry smile. "At this point? Anything that occurs to you."
She flicked her wand at the guardian; a ball of flame hurtled towards it and detonated against the shield. She did it again and again and again as it tried to advance; the explosions rocked the chamber even more alarmingly, but did succeed in pushing the guardian backwards as if it were struggling against a high wind. It slashed at him as it lurched forward and he jerked back without thinking, then cursed himself for his stupidity. The sword couldn't strike him, although it didn't stop the blows from hurting ...
He looked down at the blossoming red stain on his sleeve with a sudden sick horror. The cut the sword tip had made was shallow, but it had definitely struck him. The helmet was useless.
Then, as an ominous creaking sound came from far above, it suddenly dawned on him what Alkteg must have done.
He pulled off the helmet and threw it at the guardian, which checked its stroke and snatched at the helmet like a Seeker grabbing for a Snitch. Percy didn't hesitate; instead of backing away, he dived forwards while it was hampered by trying to keep hold of the helmet as well as its sword. He avoided a clumsy blow, came up behind the guardian -- and snatched its helmet, planting it on his own head and holding it there tightly.
He couldn't avoid the followup slash of the sword, but this time it didn't matter. This time, the blow slid off harmlessly. This time, the weapon couldn't strike him.
He would have whooped in triumph if the roof had not chosen that moment to finally cave in completely.
Rocks rained down around him, first small ones, then larger jagged chunks, then great boulders, but they all seemed to bounce off just as they had when the guardian had been wearing this helmet. The rockfall went on and on for what seemed like hours; the noise was indescribable, and he had to fight to prevent himself flinching away and losing his grip on the helmet. It took several minutes for him to realise that it had finally come to a stop.
Percy looked around, uncomprehending. He was standing in an open patch in front of what had once been the dais, with the rest of the chamber filled by a pile of rubble that had to be twenty feet high in places. Far above he could see a patch of open sky. The dais itself and the recess where the helmet had been displayed appeared to have remained intact, although the guardian statue had not; it lay shattered in feebly twitching pieces, which as he watched gave one final threatening wave of the sword and then stilled.
Where was McGonagall? "Minerva?" he called faintly. "Minerva!" He almost couldn't bear to look. Was she somewhere underneath all that? Would she have been able to conjure something, anything, to block the rockfall? It was doubtless enchanted --
He turned sharply at a faint noise of moving pebbles behind him. The opening of the recess was almost completely blocked, but as he watched a very shaken looking tabby cat wriggled its way out from inside through the narrow gaps between the rocks. Percy sagged in relief.
"Percy? PERCY!"
"Professor! Anyone?"
"Who's that?" asked Minerva, returning to her usual form and straining to hear the faint cries from above.
"Ron and Harry, I think." He had never been more pleased to hear his little brother's voice. "Kingsley must have sent them to help. Just in time for a rescue."
Alkteg and Beauregard stepped forward from their hiding place, and looked at the dead king in triumph. For Alkteg had constructed a guardian according to his father's instructions; while it could not defeat the king while he wore the helmet, it had convinced him to believe in the story, and to take the stone without caution. As for Beauregard, he had coated the gem with a poison devised from his mother's recipe, against which the helmet was no defence.
And although Alkteg knew that as the son of Eretek, he could make himself king of the goblins in turn with the help of the helmet, he did not wish for power, nor for war with wizardkind. And so the good goblin and his wizard friend placed the helmet where it could not be found, and went on their way, and without Boldrund the goblins did not make war in the land. And even now the helmet is where they left it, for no-one since has raised himself to power with its aid.
'The Tale of the Good Goblin'
The Senior Conference Room of Gringotts (Diagon Alley Head Office Branch) doubled as the place where most of the important goblin councils were held. It was a huge oak-panelled room reached via long marbled corridors and next door to a truly impressive library; wizards and witches were rarely allowed to attend a meeting there, and Minerva had certainly never expected to be invited to one as a guest. Now she was here, she proposed to enjoy the experience -- insofar as that was possible. This was, after all, no ordinary meeting. It was more in the nature of a diplomatic summit, and she was present as part of a small delegation.
In addition to herself and Kingsley, the Ministry representatives included Cadwallader and of course Percy, together with Percy's secretary, officially there to act as scribe (but mostly because Percy had insisted that as she had been involved from the beginning and kept quiet about it, she had the right to see how it turned out). Three tough-looking Aurors completed the party. On the goblin side, there were senior staff from Gringotts and high-level representatives from the Brotherhood of Goblins. Chief Cooperation Officer Lordruk was their designated spokesgoblin, although he was in a far from cooperative mood.
"Very well, Minister Shacklebolt, we have arranged for this meeting in response to your request," said Lordruk, his voice cold. "I presume it has something to do with the rumours that have been published in the wizard press -- together, I might add, with a repeat of a very insultingly slanted children's tale that we thought we had seen the last of forty years ago?"
"It has something to do with them, yes," replied Kingsley equably. "Although there is much more to it than that. I'd like to ask Professor McGonagall and Mr Weasley to describe the results of their investigations for you."
Minerva exchanged uneasy glances with Percy. Kingsley had not mentioned that he intended to throw the spotlight on them, but they could hardly expect to get away without telling their story. She cleared her throat. "Well, it all began when I discovered some notes that had been left behind by Albus Dumbledore ..."
The goblins listened in stony-faced silence while they outlined their investigations and adventures. with the only exception being a look of scornful amusement when the name Kefrak was mentioned. When the tale finally came to a halt, they did not speak for several seconds. "Let me see if I understand you correctly," said Lordruk finally. "With the aid of the researches of goblin scholars, as recorded in documents stolen from a goblin, wizards have once again claimed a priceless goblin heirloom for their own. And you came to tell us this why?"
"I'm glad you asked," said Kingsley before anyone else could speak. He seemed to be able to manage an admirable equanimity despite the barely suppressed fury emanating from the goblins. "As soon as the matter came to my attention, I sent a special task force of representatives from the Ministry and the Order of the Phoenix to investigate. If there was truly anything in the story, I considered it vital to recover the helmet before it could be stolen by wizards who might wish to sell it illegally or use it for criminal purposes." Minerva managed to keep her face impassive at this somewhat bowdlerised version of the facts. "And on that note -- gentlemen, if you would?" He nodded to the Aurors, one of whom reached into his bag and took out the helmet. "I thought it wise to keep this concealed on our journey here, to avoid exciting speculation."
The goblins leaned towards him slowly, although they gave the impression that they would rather have rushed forward. "That, at least, we can agree with," said Lordruk. "Why have you brought this here? Have you come merely to gloat? Or will you now claim you have to keep it from goblin hands, because of some laughable fear that we would use it against you? And doubtless you will still expect docile agreement to your demands about how we at Gringotts should run our bank?
"Not at all," said Kingsley. "The helmet is, as you say, a priceless goblin heirloom, which Minerva McGonagall and Percy Weasley have recovered -- at some considerable risk to themselves, I might add. I would never attempt to claim it for the Ministry. In fact, we would now like to present it to you as a gesture of good faith. I have complete confidence that it will be given the highest possible security."
He nodded to the Auror holding the helmet, who stepped forward, bowed, and presented it to a thunderstruck Lordruk. "I -- I -- well, that is another matter." He looked around at his colleagues, who appeared if anything even more taken aback. "If you will excuse us, we would like to confer among ourselves for a moment?"
"Of course."
The goblins retreated to the far end of the room and carried out a rapid but heated conversation in whispered Gobbledegook. Minerva did not trust herself to speak. From Percy's sideways glances, he looked as if he didn't trust Cadwallader to speak, but presumably the Head of Department had now been thoroughly briefed by Kingsley and was under orders not to.
Some ten minutes had passed by the time the goblins returned. "We are -- pleasantly surprised at this development," said Lordruk stiffly. "You may not realise, but this is an artefact almost of legend for a goblin, rather like the Elder Wand was for wizards. We will take great care of it, I assure you. We never expected that it would actually be found."
"Well, now it's returned to you," said Kingsley, with a smile.
"Yes. And frankly, we did not expect that either. We have seldom found wizards so trustworthy in the past, and for that, we thank you." He seemed to be having some difficulty with the last few words. "You did not ask directly, but we are all in agreement that we should offer some recompense for your trouble. To begin with, perhaps our new rules were an overreaction -- we would be happy to return to the previous policies regarding vault security. At the end of the day, we all wish to protect our treasures as best we can."
"That's very much appreciated. Especially as these two managed to get past purely goblin defences to get your treasure for you, and without a goblin to tell them what they were facing this time," said Cadwallader in jocular tones. Percy winced and closed his eyes; even Kingsley's smile had become rather fixed. "Still, fair's fair, I'm sure you'd have got past wizard defences just the same," he added hastily. "Working together, that's the main thing, isn't it? If we trust each other a bit more, give each other a chance, maybe we can make a fresh start of it when we get back to the talks?"
To Minerva's surprise, Lordruk actually smiled tolerantly at this. Perhaps he recognised that even though Cadwallader was gauche, he was sincere -- or maybe he had simply noticed the reactions of the rest of the delegation. "We will see," he said. "If your colleagues had consulted the goblins first, they would have had the goblin version of the tale, rather than the childish and inaccurate version written by Boodle. Then they would have known what they would be facing." This provoked sharp laughter from some of the other goblins.
"I don't understand," said Minerva. "The maps led us to the right place?"
"Of course they did, for they were based on our tradition, not yours." Lordruk seemed highly amused by the looks of blank incomprehension on the faces of the Ministry representatives. "King Boldrund the Bearded indeed! He was no king! Among goblins, the ruler is the most skilful, not the most savage. Eretek was the true king -- Boldrund attempted to seize the rule by force, and nearly succeeded. A dark day in our history, but one that is forgotten by wizards. Alkteg is a hero to us too, but he stands first among many who resisted Boldrund, not as the only 'good goblin' of your tale." He paused, considering. "Well, perhaps it would help us work together if you were more aware of some of our traditions. Few of you are, since Albus Dumbledore passed on."
He clicked his fingers and spoke a word of Gobbledegook and a leather-bound volume flew towards him from the library, which he caught and presented to Minerva with a small bow. She took it and raised her eyebrows; the title was in goblin runes, but by now she could make out a few of the words, including the name of the author. Now that explained a lot. She held it up so Percy could see, and his eyebrows rose too.
"Are you sure we can trust them with the helmet, Minister?" asked Percy quietly as they left the bank. Cadwallader looked at him reprovingly.
"Oh, I think so. The current lot, anyway. And if we can't --" Kingsley shrugged "-- well, it's just one artefact. Even without the use of a Killing Curse there are ways to defeat any goblin wearing it, as you proved. Or there's always poison, like the goblin in the tale!" he added, with a wry smile.
"Cornelius Fudge is clearly your go-to man for advice on poisoning goblins," said Percy. He was somewhat taken aback when they all stared at him open mouthed. "It's a joke!" he said, turning red. "I do make them sometimes, you know!"
Minerva laughed with them all, mostly in relief that Percy was not officially confirming the Quibbler's worst suspicions. She held up the book. "I think we need to work on translating this, Percy," she said. "I've a feeling that when we do, the joke just might be on us."
Alkteg looked on the helmet with longing, and also with deep sadness; for his father the king had made it, the finest creation of his hands, and it was his to hold and to use by right. But he saw that to do so would bring woe and envy and death down upon the goblin race just as it had for Boldrund, for even as he looked he saw both fear and covetousness in the guise of his wizard companion. So he restored the helmet to its hiding place, and set an invulnerable guardian to defend it, and made it into a foundation of the very castle itself. And Beauregard agreed that this should not be told among wizards. But among goblins, Alkteg's sacrifice of right is remembered and honoured to this day.
From 'The Sacrifice of Right' (Collected Traditions of Kefrak the Loremaster No 105)
A first translation from the original runes by Minerva McGonagall and Percy Weasley
Obscurus Press 2006
Additional Notes:
I'm not sure where this came from, except that the "like to receive" request said "Percy Weasley, Minerva McGonagall, historical, mystery, minor characters (especially older generations) ... if it's off the beaten track it's quite likely I'll like it, especially if there's a bit of fun world-building". That probably suggested Pottermore and Beedle as source materials I hadn't really used before, especially as the bit about goblin rulers in the Pottermore "Sword of Gryffindor" piece had just come to my attention.
This was one of those kitchen-sink fics that ended up including various elements that appeared as the story was written! Dumbledore's portrait was included because the obvious thing for Minerva to do on finding the note would be to ask it what it was about, the others kind of came in handy for exposition. I had no idea that Audrey was going to make an appearance when I started writing, but when I came to write Percy interacting with his secretary and McGonagall I thought it might be amusing to work in a bit of pre-Percy/Audrey. And wizarding politics became part of the story because, well, that tends to be one of my tropes, doesn't it?
Once I hit on the basic idea of "Beedle tale based on real events, McG and Percy investigate, twist with the helmet at the end" it seemed obvious to make it one of those stories in which another tale is interleaved with the main plot, so that they run in parallel and complement each other to a certain extent. Although I had the basic idea for the Beedle tale, most of the detail was worked out after (largely) finishing the main story in order to fit, although I did always want to go for a sort of Rosebud/Simisola effect in which the meaning of the title and/or a significant reference only becomes apparent when you get to the end.
The magic gave me a lot of trouble here -- as in "why is the helmet any good when the wizards have the Killing Curse, and why can't they beat the guardian easily?" Hopefully it makes reasonable sense.