From Vaults to Shadows

Olivia Montgomery's POV

I groan as I stir awake, a sharp pain pulsing from my stomach reminding me of everything that's happened. It takes a moment to adjust, but when I finally open my eyes, the first thing I see is Hermione—fast asleep, right beside me, our fingers still intertwined.

A small, tired smile tugs at my lips. Her hair is a wild halo across her face, so I gently brush it back and cup her cheek. I lean in and press a soft kiss to her forehead. Her warmth—Merlin, it feels like home.

I've missed this. I've missed them.

How I've longed to escape that godforsaken place.No offence, Draco. None taken, darling ;)

The door creaks open, and Ron steps inside. The moment his eyes land on me, he rushes over. "Hello," I whisper as he wraps his arms around me. I hiss softly at the pressure on my wound. "Ronald, you're hurting her!" Hermione scolds, sitting up with a sleepy frown and rubbing her eyes.

"That's quite alright, Hermione," I say, still holding Ron. "I missed him." He doesn't pull away, and neither do I. "What were you doing in Malfoy's house?" he asks, voice laced with anger just as Harry walks in.

"You're okay!" Harry beams and runs to hug me too. "Not – quite – yet," Hermione mutters, smacking his arm between each word. Harry pulls back quickly, and the three of them are now staring at me, waiting. I take a deep breath. "The day I left for work? That was the day You-Know-Who kidnapped me."

"What?" they shout in unison.

"Yeah... I was just packing for the Burrow. He came out of nowhere. I was locked away for three months—no human contact, barely any food. He tortured me, cruciated me for hours. The letter I sent Fred..." I trail off when I see their confused faces.

"I guess you'd already left for the Horcrux hunt," I say softly.

"The first thing he did was search my mind. For information. Anything useful. I blocked everything about you three," I say, meeting Harry's eyes. "Everything."

"I showed him what he wanted to see. That I was a Slytherin. That I was close to Draco. That I had no idea where you were." I glance down at the ring on my finger. "Malfoy..." Harry mutters, his tone skeptical. "But looking at you, it doesn't exactly seem like you were held captive."

"That's because I wasn't. Not for the past month," I say, finally looking up at Hermione.

"Why not?" Ron asks.

Before I can answer, Fleur steps into the room. "The goblin is ready to talk," she says, and Harry nods. "Let's go," I say, shoving the covers back. "Whoa, whoa, whoa—where do you think you're going?" Ron says, pushing me gently back onto the bed.

"With you," I argue. "Oh, come on, haven't I missed enough?"

"Right now, you need rest. So you're going to rest," he says sternly. I sigh. "At least let me walk around the house, please?" I give him the full puppy-dog eyes. They exchange glances, then reluctantly agree. Ron helps me down the stairs, and I settle at the table beside Bill.

"How are you feeling, blondie?" he asks. "Better now that I'm here with all of you," I say, sipping from the mug Hermione brewed for me. I immediately gag. "Bleh."

"That bad?" Bill chuckles. I nod, nose scrunching.

After some light conversation, Luna floats down the stairs like a moonbeam. "Luna!" I exclaim, standing and wrapping my arms around her. "Liv," she says with that dreamy softness, hugging me back. "How are you?"

"Better now that you're okay," she answers, then her gaze drops to my hand. "That's quite a nice ring you've got there." My eyes dart around to make sure the Trio isn't listening. If they find out I'm engaged to Draco Malfoy right now, I will never hear the end of it.

"Just wanted to say congratulations," Luna says, snapping me out of my spiral. "Huh?" I blink. "Draco told me," she says like it's the most natural thing. "He did?"

"The day he brought us food in the cellar," she says, and my chest tightens.

Of course he did.

"Thank you, Luna. But... for now, please keep it between us," I say quietly. She nods.

After catching up and apologizing that I couldn't do anything to help her back at the Manor, I step outside the cottage for some fresh air. The ocean breeze greets me, cool and steady. I walk toward the shore, feeling the sand between my toes and the waves lap gently over my feet.

For the first time in months, I feel free.

"Olivia!" Ron's voice calls from the cottage.

I smile and turn back toward the light.

"Wait—Snape put a fake one in the vault?" I ask, staring at them with wide eyes. They nod. "Why do you ask?" Hermione asks me gently. "Because... just about a month ago, I saw him. He was at the Manor. Talking to You-Know-Who," I say, and instantly, everyone's expressions darken.

Ron frowns. "Whose side is he on, then?" I shrug. "That's the million Galleon question, isn't it?" Harry presses his lips into a thin line. "We need to get to Gringotts..." He explains the plan to me, quickly but thoroughly. I listen, heart thudding.

"That's tremendously risky," I mutter, shaking my head. But before anyone can even try to shut me down, I shoot up a finger. "You are most definitely not keeping me here. I'm coming." Ron opens his mouth. I cut him off before the 'N' in 'No' can even escape.

"No arguments." I point a warning finger at him, daring him to try me. He throws up his hands in surrender. "Are you sure it's hers?" he asks instead, nodding toward the hair Hermione holds in her hand. "Positive," she says, dropping the strand into the Polyjuice Potion.

"Wait—who's drinking it?" I ask. Hermione hesitates, then slowly points to herself. "I was thinking... since I've been in that house and talked to her face-to-face, I could—"

"No!" Ron snaps before she can finish. "Be grateful I'm even letting you come with us." I blink, then smile as warmth rises to my chest. I step forward and hug him tightly. "What... what is it?" he stammers, surprised, but he hugs me back.

"Nothing. I just missed your scolding. It's been a while," I murmur into his chest. He chuckles softly and presses a kiss to the top of my head. "Let's go," Harry says, voice quiet but determined.

I help Hermione get into Bellatrix's clothes, fixing the tight corset and those ridiculously dramatic sleeves.

A few minutes later, she steps out of the room.

"Well?" she asks, striking a little pose. "How do I look?" Harry grins. "Hideous."

"Agreed," Ron mutters under his breath, and I giggle. "You look all right, Mione," I say, "but you don't sound like her. Yet." She nods, clearing her throat to practice again. "You can give that to Hermione to hold, all right, Griphook?" Harry says, and the goblin carefully drops the sword into her enchanted bag.

I stare at her for a long moment, then sneakily pinch her waist.

"Ow! What was that for?" she hisses, glaring at me. "Sorry! You just—you look so much like her, it's actually terrifying. I was... checking."

"You literally helped me change. You watched it happen," she says in that exasperated Hermione way, hands on her hips. "Yeah, and if you spent half a year in a house crawling with Death Eaters, you'd double-check everything too—even your own reflection," I say with a half-laugh.

We head outside together, the tension thickening with every step.

"Ready?" Harry asks.

We all nod.

"We rely on you, Griphook," he says. "If you get us past the guards and into the vault, the sword is yours. Just as I said." The goblin gives a sharp nod.

It's happening. We're really doing this.

And I'm not about to sit this one out.

We Apparate into Diagon Alley—and it's like death has touched everything. Cold. Dark. Empty. Not a single soul in sight, except for the wind rustling dead leaves across cobblestones.

Posters flutter around us, plastered on walls, tossed across the ground like trash. Some even float eerily through the air. Harry's face. My face. Black and white. Harsh lettering in bold.

"Escaped from the Dark Lord. No. 1 Traitor."

That one's mine.

So... everyone knows now.

Hermione glances at me and gives the tiniest nod. She doesn't need to say anything. I know. And I know she knows. We hear footsteps and she immediately ushers us into the shadows. A Death Eater walks in.

"Madam Lestrange," he says, dipping his head slightly.

He starts to walk past us, clearly assuming Bellatrix—Hermione—isn't the conversational type. But then— "Good morning," Hermione says brightly. He pauses, frowns, and walks off slowly, clearly confused. "Good morning?" Griphook hisses from behind her.

"Really, Mione?" I mutter, trying not to laugh. "Who do you think she is?" Hermione facepalms. "I was practicing," she mumbles. "You are Bellatrix Lestrange, not some dewy-eyed schoolgirl," Griphook snaps. "Hey, hey—easy," Ron says, coming to Hermione's defense.

"If she gives us away," Griphook snarls, "we might as well use that sword to slit our throats."

Charming.

"Okay, let's do this," Harry says firmly. Griphook climbs onto his back, and Ron drapes the Invisibility Cloak over us.

We slip into Gringotts without a hitch.

Thank Merlin.

We head straight for the reception. Hermione struts ahead of us in her full Bellatrix getup. But then, a Death Eater stares right at us—his eyes narrow. My breath catches in my throat. He starts reaching toward the Cloak.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Hermione snaps. He recoils. "Sorry, Madam Lestrange," he says quickly and retreats. We approach the desk. Hermione's trying her best Bellatrix impersonation.

"I wish to enter my vault," she says stiffly. "Identification?" the goblin asks. "I hardly think that will be necessary," she replies, trying to sound cold. "Madam Lestrange," the goblin says, squinting at her face. "They know," Griphook whispers behind her. "They know she's an imposter."

"They've been warned too," he adds grimly. I notice a guard start moving toward us. "Harry," Ron whispers, "what do we do?"

"Madam Lestrange," the goblin says, "would you mind presenting your wand?" Hermione stiffens. "And why should I do that?" Harry glances at me, panic sparking in his eyes. "It's bank policy. Surely you understand—given the current climate," the goblin says coolly.

"No. I most certainly do not understand!" Hermione says, raising her voice. I step forward, wand hidden, and cast—"Imperio." The goblin's eyes glaze over slightly. "Very well, Madam Lestrange. If you would follow me, please."

We all let out a breath.

As we descend into the vaults, the Thief's Downfall pours over us—and Hermione is instantly de-Bellatrixed. "What happened to you?" Ron asks, staring. "The Thief's Downfall," Griphook explains. "Washes away all enchantments." One of the goblins suddenly yells. "What the devil are you all doing down here?"

"Imperio." I cast again before he can react.

The air shifts. There's a roaring sound, and we all freeze.

We follow Griphook and then—there it is. A hulking white beast with jagged scales.

"Bloody hell," Ron whispers. "That's a Ukrainian Ironbelly." Griphook grabs an instrument and starts shaking it. "It expects pain when it hears this sound." I walk with Harry, and the dragon locks eyes with me. Its gaze is deep. Familiar. And then—it bows.

My brows knit. What?

"That's barbaric," Hermione says softly. We reach the vault. "Accio Horcrux!" Hermione calls. Ron and I both groan. "You're not seriously trying that again?" he mutters. "Harry?" I say, moving closer to him. "I hear it. It's here," he whispers.

Hermione accidentally brushes a cup and suddenly—everything starts multiplying. Gold, cups, armor—piling, growing, suffocating.

"Gemino Curse," Griphook warns. "Don't touch anything."

"Give me the sword," Harry says, and Hermione tosses it to him. He scrambles up the shifting pile, everything multiplying with every step. "Stop moving!" Hermione shouts. We all freeze. Statues. I barely breathe. Harry grabs the real cup and jumps down.

"We had a deal, Griphook," he says.

Griphook lunges forward and snatches the cup. "The cup for the sword," he says. Harry throws the sword—Griphook throws the cup to Hermione. "I said I'd get you in. Nothing about getting you out," Griphook says and bolts.

"Griphook! Griphook!" Harry yells.

"Foul git," Ron mutters. "Is there no one we can trust?"

"At least we've got Bogrod—" A burst of dragon fire answers that.

Shit.

Guards flood in, spells flying. We duck behind columns and walls. "How are we going to get out of here?!" Hermione yells beside me. "You're the brilliant one!" Ron shouts back. "Not right now I'm not!" she snaps. I stun a guard and hiss, "I have an idea—but I don't know if it'll work."

All eyes turn to me.

"Ron—shake the instrument. Get the dragon's attention. On us."

"On us?!" he repeats, horrified.

"Yes—come on!" He shakes it. The dragon rears. Fire bursts toward us. "No!" I scream, holding my hands up. The dragon stops. "Easy, boy," I whisper. Another stun spell. "Come here." The dragon lowers his head.

I leap onto its back.

"What are you waiting for? My owl?" I shout, and the others jump on behind me. "Release him, Mione!" I call out. She shoots the spell. The chains fall.

The dragon climbs the bank wall, smashing through glass as it goes. Just before the shards rain down on us, I cast a shield to protect us.

We break into the open sky, wind roaring around us.

"That was brilliant, absolutely brilliant!" Ron cheers. I grin. "Learned from the best," I say, bumping Hermione's shoulder as the dragon soars away.

We spot water below—a clearing. We drop into it together, soaking wet, panting.

But we did it. We did it.

"He knows," Harry says as we climb out of the freezing water, soaked to our bones.

I pause mid-step, breath caught.

"He knows we broke into Gringotts," Harry continues, voice low but certain. "And he knows we're hunting Horcruxes."

By the time we reach the top of the hill, I feel the chill deep in my spine—but I'm not sure if it's from the cold or the fear. "What?" Hermione gasps, already rifling through her beaded bag. "Harry, you can't let him in!"

"I can't help it, Hermione. Well... maybe I can," he mutters, his brows furrowed as he stares off into nothing.

We don't say anything more. We're too focused on peeling off our soaking clothes and changing into something dry. None of us care that we're standing around in our underthings—we've just ridden a dragon out of a bank vault and stolen one of Voldemort's soul jars. Modesty's a luxury we don't have time for.

As I tug on clean jeans, Harry speaks again.

"I saw Hogwarts. The castle. And Rowena Ravenclaw. The next Horcrux... it's there." My breath catches again, but this time it's not fear. It's something else. That castle—it's more than just stone and turrets. It's home.

"How'd you know the dragon would listen to you?" Ron asks, squinting at me as he pulls on a jumper.

I shrug and look down, rubbing my arm. "When we were heading to the vault, he... bowed to me. I think maybe it's because his blood runs in me. He might've sensed it, or... I don't know." I glance up, cheeks warm despite the cold. "It was just a feeling."

No one says anything after that. The silence stretches. I think we're all realizing how far we've come—and how much further we still have to go.

"We have to go now," Harry finally says, slicing through the silence. "To Hogwarts."

We Apparate to Hogsmeade, landing hard on cobblestones—and immediately, alarms wail.

"He's here!" someone yells. We bolt in the opposite direction, my heart hammering in my chest. The sky is dark. The air smells like smoke. Wands are ready.

Suddenly, a door flies open beside us. "Potter, in here!" a voice calls. We pile in.

"Did you see him?" Ron pants. "He looked like—"

"Dumbledore," Hermione breathes, wide-eyed. "What the hell were you thinking, coming here?" the man says sharply. I know that voice. I know that scowl. "Mr. Dumbledore," I say, stepping forward cautiously.

He turns to me. "Olivia," he says, disappointment thick in his tone. "How can you be so foolish? I expected them to do something this reckless, but you?"

"You're—" Harry starts. "Dumbledore's brother," I finish for him. Aberforth huffs, walks to the back, and returns with four glasses of butterbeer and sandwiches. Ron and Hermione waste no time digging in. They look half-starved.

Ron hands me mine, but I shake my head. "No, Ron. You need it more." He doesn't argue, just nods and devours my sandwich too. While Harry and Aberforth talk in hushed voices, I see something—or someone—approaching the portrait on the wall. A girl, and beside her—

"Who's that?" Harry whispers beside me. I stare, stunned. "Is that... Neville?"

The portrait swings open, and Neville Longbottom steps through with a small smile. "Hey, guys," he greets warmly, eyes flicking between the trio. "Neville," Harry breathes, grinning. We follow him into the hidden passage.

"Hogwarts has changed," Neville says as I glance back one last time and give Aberforth a nod of thanks. "Is Snape really that bad as a Headmaster?" Ron asks. Neville shakes his head. "Yes. Don't see him much. It's the Carrows you've got to worry about."

His eyes flick to me. And linger.

"Carrows?" Harry asks. Neville breaks his stare and turns to him. "Yeah. They did this." He points to a bruised, angry wound on his cheek. "Punishment for refusing to Crucio a first year."

"What?!" I gasp, stepping closer—but he doesn't even look at me. He just keeps walking. "Let's have some fun, shall we?" he says, and pushes the door open.

I blink. What did I do?

"Hey, listen up, you lot!" Neville calls to the crowded room. "Brought you a surprise!"

"Please tell me it's not more of Aberforth's cooking," Seamus groans, and laughter erupts as all eyes turn to Neville. He moves to the side and reveals—

Harry.

The Chosen One.

The room explodes. Cheers. Clapping. Laughs. A few people even start to cry. After months of fear and torture, they finally have something to believe in.

But then... I step into view behind him.

The cheering cuts off. The clapping slows. Eyes shift.

They're looking at me.

Just me.

Well. Damn it.