James, Sirius, and Frank stood shoulder-to-shoulder-to-shoulder, though none but James and Frank would have known that Sirius was there. Not a bit of him showed beneath the invisibility cloak.

Diagon Alley was abuzz with activity, witches and wizards bustling about from shop to shop, streaming in and out of the bank, down the steep white marble staircase from the golden doors, passing others on their way upward, all of them stepping clear of the two Aurors who stood at the top, staring at the gleaming golden doors.

"Just me, or does it seem they've polished the doors recently?" asked the disembodied voice of Sirius. "It seems particularly... shiny... today."

"Yeah, it does," Frank's voice was flat.

James's eyes traveled across the serpentine writing that was etched in the gold, a spidery script that seemed to breathe with life it was so flowing.

"Enter stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed.
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned; beware
Of finding more than treasure there."

James swallowed the anxiety that had crept up through his esophagus at reading the words. He'd seen them before, of course, on myriad of visits with Charlus or Dora to Vault 687, but never before had he stood there and read them with the knowledge that he intended to go in and break the very rule that the front doors warned against. Somehow, the words seemed deeper etched than ever before, or perhaps, as Sirius had suggested, more freshly polished - brighter, shinier... more menacing.

"What's the vault number again?" Frank asked quietly.

"711," Sirius answered quietly.

They stood in silence. 

"We've got to do this," James said. "There's no turning back. We've got no other option. We've left Regulus vulnerable too long already."

Frank nodded. They couldn't see it, but so did Sirius. 

James drew a very deep breath, his chest pressing against the slightly too tight fabric of the Auror's uniform. Then, "Come on you lot or we'll never do it." He stepped forward and he felt Sirius step with him, as well as Frank, the two visible lads flanking the sides of the invisible, protecting him from anyone that might walk into him, to keep his presence a secret.

James could only hope that the goblins would not have a way to detect Sirius beneath the cloak.

They walked as confidently as they could manage across the wide, Cathedral-like lobby of the bank. Surely it was only his imagination, but James thought he could feel the eyes of every goblin on them, following their progress across the room, and he worried if there was something they were doing wrong, something that called them out as imposters, something that would be sure to get them caught and thrown into Azkaban. But none of the goblins moved to stop them. They approached the head goblin, who stood at the highest bench of them all, and Frank reached into the breast pocket of his uniform, removing the folded parchment that was their search warrant and unfolding it carefully.

The Head Goblin peered over the edge of his bifocals and stared at Frank Longbottom with an almost annoyed expression. He leaned forward. "May I... help you?" he asked slowly.

Frank nodded and extended his hand, offering up the search warrant to the goblin. 

Slowly, the goblin reached down, closing his long-nailed fingers around the document and pulling it closer to his nose, adjusting his glasses as he held it out at arms length to read it over, his eyes squinting in scrutiny. 

As he read, a bell began to ring somewhere high above. The sound was deep and seemed to vibrate through the very walls and floor of the bank. It was the end of shift bell, and as the Head Goblin examined their search warrant, the goblins sitting at the high desks lining the lobby were getting up and collecting their things in a loud shuffling of paper and cloaks, as new goblins entered through the doors at the back of the hall, carrying little briefcases and looking rather grumping. Even the goblins leaving looked rather grumpy, honestly, though, because grumpy is just how goblins always look.

The commotion was extremely distracting, and the Head Goblin paused in reading the warrant to glower around at his noisy underlings, breathing a short sigh of exasperation through his nose, and turned back to the document at hand as the new goblins noisily took their places at the desks with a whole new flurry of papers and cloaks and scraping chairs. Even James had a hard time not being distracted, fighting his urge to look around at the changing of the Gringott's goblins, but to keep his eyes on the Head Goblin in a cold, professional manner. 

Finally, the Head Goblin lowered the magically altered warrant and stared down his nose at what appeared to him as a pair of Ministry Aurors. "You understand, sir, that we wish to keep the proceedings as quiet and discreet as possible?"

The Head Goblin nodded, "Yes, I can see why you would." He pressed his fingers together, considering. "Mr. Underhill ordered this investigation?"

"It's his signature on the document, isn't it?" James piped up, finding a clever way not to directly answer the Head Goblin's inquiry.

The goblin's mouth twitched and he took out a small eyeglass and held it up to his face, peering intensely close at the signature before lowering it down. "And what are you looking for, exactly?"

"There was a theft earlier this year and we have reason to believe that the items stolen were put into the vault in question," Frank replied. He paused, "That is, unfortunately, the most that I can tell you as the investigation is absolutely top secret. You understand, of course."

"Of course," mused the Head Goblin. He continued to stare at the warrant. "And you understand, of course, that you may not touch or remove any items you find in the vault? Only a member of the family, in possession of the key, may touch or remove any of the items from this high security vault.  Warrant or no warrant - unless there is an arrest in the case, the items must stay in place in the vault until such time as they are called as evidence in a high court by the Minister of Magic or the Head of Magical Law Enforcement?" 

"Of course," Frank replied.

 "We aren't daft," added James. "We just need to have a look-see, confirm the items are in the suspect's possession, and then we can process the paperwork to get the case up to the high court. I expect once we confirm the items' location, you'll hear from the Head of Magical Law Enforcement within the fortnight."

"Very well," the Head Goblin said. "And may I see your Ministry issued identification, please? Your badges?" 

Frank had a badge, but James did not, and suddenly their whole plan wobbled like a mirage before them. Frank withdrew his badge and James made a show of patting down the uniform and then opening a small pouch at his hip to look for the nonexistent badge as Frank held his up for the goblin to see. While James continued his fruitless search, mind running quickly through things he might do or say that might safe the plan's progress from being lost, a goblin came from the backroom carrying a large stack of papers.

He spoke in rapid garbledegook to the Head Goblin, dropping the stacks onto the desk before him, and the Head Goblin  shouted something in aggravation which made the messenger goblin hightail it away. James slowly looked up, about to look to Frank for an idea, when the Head Goblin shouted a sharp call across the hall and one of the goblins from the desks lining the lobby came running over hurriedly. "Take these aurors down to the vaults," the Head Goblin said, "That idiot has just buried me in timecards to approve."

James and Frank exchanged a look - it seemed that luck was indeed on their side after all. 

"Yes, sir," said the deep-voiced goblin that had come over and he looked to the two aurors. "Come with me please."

"Go with him, please," the Head Goblin said. He studied them one last moment, then passed the warrant back to Frank, who took it, folded it, and tucked it back into his pocket before they turned to follow the assigned goblin.

"Name is Tinderwood. Vault number?"

"711," James replied.

"You have your key?"

James took the key Regulus had given him from his pocket and held it out to Tinderwood.

Tinderwood took the key and nodded, then led them through a door in the side of the lobby. They followed, careful to keep the invisible Sirius there between them. Frank led the way, with James keeping pace behind him. They found themselves in the dark, cavernous inner rooms of Gringott's Bank. The goblin led them to the tracks, where the mining carts waited, and he turned to collect a lantern from a wall where they were hanging. Luckily, he was busy selecting the lantern as they got in, for Sirius managed to trip on his way into the cart and a good third of his leg showed for a moment as he scrambled to get the cloak back over him. Tinderwood did not see a thing, however, and the boys were able to get inside and sit down - Sirius upon James's lap to keep out of the way of the goblin. 

"Lantern, please." Tinderwood held it up for Frank to take and then climbed into the cart before taking it back. He tapped the side with his palm and the cart began to roll slowly forward out of the holding area. Slowly... slowly... it turned the corner at the end of the holding area, and they approached a drop off, the wall of the cave looming darkly ahead of them, the rails turning near to perpendicular, and Frank, who had always hated this sort of thing, steeled himself for the moment when the cart's descent through the caverns would pick up speed.

The cart seemed to teeter on the edge of the world a moment.

And then it tipped forward.

They rushed down the steep sloping rails. Lanterns that lined the walls, which had looked to be near to six feet apart when they were going slowly, suddenly seemed to be one long and continuous line of blurred glowing white light as they descended, down - down - down, into the depths of the bank. The air seemed to get danker and thicker as they went, and they could hear the creaks and groans of other carts in the distance, though there was no time to spot them.  Frank's fingers balled tightly in his lap and Sirius clutched onto James with invisible arms as James closed his eyes - his stomach feeling as though it were trailing behind them rather like a kite on a string.

 They had to of gone miles beneath the bank lobby before the art took a swinging turn that spiraled them around a wide, seemingly unending chasm, and through a series of turns - left and right, right, left, left, left, right, up, down, left, right, right, left - and then down a gentle slope and slowing down. The cart rolled along a dark ledge, coming to stop at last.

Frank's face was a fine shade of puce.

The goblin got out and went to hang the lantern up on a peg that protruded from the wall as the boys scrambled to get out of the cart without  Sirius being spotted. The cloak kept him covered this time, thank Merlin, and they managed to get out with no troubles this time. 

And now, James thought, came the tricky part.

Tinderwood led the way along the ledge past intricate vault doors that were made of a dark iron-like material and adorned with hundreds of tiny moving bits that looked like clockwork. The doors were not labelled with numbers, but the goblin seemed to know precisely which he needed. He stopped before one and drew the key from the pocket he had stowed it in, and put it into the lock hole in the center of the door, turning it once, and then leaning close and pressing his palm full upon the metal in a small, circular space clear of the clockwork pieces. Immediately the pieces began to grind and click, curling and twisting, a whirring noise like a giant bug buzzing echoed through the edge they stood upon. The first doors parted open and they entered a small vestibule and before them were high, heavy wooden doors, and the goblin took the key once again and put it into the keyhole, turning it, and unlocking the doors, which drew away sideways, disappearing into the walls and revealing behind it utter darkness.

"Touch nothing, take nothing," the goblin said darkly, voice low like a bullfrog's. "So much as a tap of your finger on any of the artifacts contained within, and I will close this door and leave you here to await the next security sweep of the vaults. It's scheduled for the year 2047."

James chuckled, then realized Tinderwood was not joking, and his face went straight as stone again. Frank nodded, and James did, too.

Tinderwood nodded, "Very well." He snapped his fingers, and the vault illuminated, lantern after lantern lighting instantly, and revealing the contents of the vault. "You have ten minutes." He stepped out of their way, remaining in the vestibule, and waved for them to enter the vault. "I shall wait here." He sat himself upon a squat little stool, half hidden in the shadows.

"Yes, sir," Frank replied.

The boys stepped through the door of Vault 711.