Dedicated to sp1cyr0ses

THE INSIDE WAS just as grim as the exterior, with its half-burnt logs still smouldering in the old, faded hearth that looked as though it had once been green and the array of nicknacks lining cabinets that had long fogged over with a thick layer of dust.

"You said you could help me?" She asked, eyeing a leather book bound by a belt. Instead of pages between the covers all she saw were parchment-coloured teeth, and a tongue that darted out as far as the belted confines would allow.
The goblin scarcely acknowledged her, instead climbing upon a stool behind the main counter. He spoke in a voice that was as ragged as sea rocks, as if he had not much practice in speaking aloud, "You are not the first from Hogwarts to find me and I doubt you'll be the last before this all is over."

She stared, "You think one day this will end?"

"Everything ends, foolish girl, albeit in fire or in death. Nothing lasts forever." He said it with a certainty that unsettled Seven, though she wasn't quite sure why. This was what she wanted, wasn't it? For everything to end. For the world to begin again, just as it was.
Nothing would ever be as it was.

"That doesn't help me, Grindelby."

"Of course it does, you just need to learn to listen." The creature sneered, picking a book of a shelf and chucking it across the counter at her. She caught it and it flew open in her hands. Grindelby continued, "Your problem is not unique to you, faced by wizards throughout time — which you would know if only you had paid a little more attention in school."

Seven soured, disliking being scolded by something so small. "But how does this help me?" She said, glaring down at the book that had opened on a chapter about the many uses of Gillyweed.

"It doesn't" Grindel seemed to amuse himself, "Set it back in that cabinet over there where it belongs."

Seven dropped the book into the fireplace, which leapt to life, devouring the book in seconds among ivory-tinged flames, "Just tell me what I need to do!"

"Ah," Surprisingly the goblin appeared unfazed by her defiance, "But first, payment is needed." Grindelby's eyes were locked on Seven's fist. She practically hurled the bag of coins at him. He took his time, pouring the gold out onto the counter and counting them one by one, auric reflections dancing across his little black eyes. "Good, good, good. Very good."

"You said I wasn't the first person from Hogwarts, who else came for you?"

He smirked, "Quite a curious little thing, aren't you?"

"Tell me." She demanded, "If you've helped people like me before then that means you support the rebellion, you're loyal to the —,"

"My loyalties lie with nothing and no one except gold, you silly little girl, there are no loyalties anymore and you would do well not to forget that." He hissed, settling a pair of thin metal spectacles on his hook nose as he mulled over the coins for a second time.

"I'm running out of patience, Grindelby." Each second that passed grew Seven's doubt that this was all a trap, that the creature was only biding time. Her eyes flicked over her shoulder to the shop door. Outside the grey-tinged windows, the street life of Greed carried on as if they did not exist.
The goblin templed his snarled fingers, staring up at her with a strange look, "Ah yes, almost three years of waiting is a long time I suppose."

Her wand was out straight away, as she practically leapt across the counter, pressing it between Grindelby's piggy little eyes, "What did you just say to me?"

It was as if he expected such a reaction, cocking his head as his smirk grew, "You should be careful with that, an unfaithful wand is just another traitorous ally, it is just as likely to kill you as it is me."

"Maybe I'm willing to take that risk." Seven snarled.

"I don't doubt that," He appeared to think for a moment; face softening, if only slightly, "You are after all, exactly how he said you would be; self-destructively impulsive and willing to burn the world on a whim."

She debated killing him then and there, as this was almost certainly a trick. But something stopped her. He was right, she was willing to ruin everything for a chance, and yet, she was also willing to risk ruining herself for a flicker of hope. "Who told you these things..."

"Ah, you don't know do you." The goblin grinned, "How poetic, that the one thing you're trying to kill is the very thing that you must save to survive."

Blood pounded in her ears, "Enough with the fucking games, Grindelby!"

"Oh, but my foolish little child, the games have barely even begun, if the flames hurt now you'll burn up come solstice, you'll never make a new world if you can't outlast the last of the current."

She let loose a shout, frustration venting itself from the wand as if it was an extension of her own arm, swinging in a wide ark as she send a long line of cabinets crashing. Trinkets smashed, glass shattered and dust moults stirred in the air. Outside the shop, nobody had heard a thing. "Tell me!"

"Destroy what you like, child. Destroy it all, destroy me, even, yourself too, and send it all to hell, that is where we will all end up before the winter is over anyways."

She wanted to cry, her eyes stung to hold back tears. This was not supposed to happen. It was supposed to happen differently. Grindelby was supposed to give her the answers she wanted, and help her make that damn wand obey.

"You are far too easily ruled." Snarked the goblin, though there was truth to his words, "The answers are right in front of you, most you have held all along, only you are too blind to see, too ignorant to listen. That wand will never obey an ill-deserved master, it was stolen, not won."

And there, at last, an answer came from the lips of the goblin. Plain as day, Seven knew what she needed to do. She thought about duelling Grindelby, purely from spite, but even before the war goblins had not been allowed wands, and now after, when they were considered less than vermin to the purebloods, Seven knew Grindelby had nothing worthy of her time — except all the knowledge that he clearly did not wish to share.

"I'll be back." She said, rising to stand, "I think there's something else I may need from you."

"Bring more gold, and whatever it is, I'll see it done."

• • •

FROST HAD SETTLED over the district, the thin hand of ice curving its way across shop shutters and gripping like molten silver from gutters. Seven scanned the street, looking for a target but finding none that would not make her heart ache with guilt; maybe she was becoming soft again, or maybe it was only that she knew how it felt to be so unsuspectingly violated.

She waited and waited, but no such victim came, no one challenged her by her fire. The street rats had all grown weary, choosing to freeze rather than risk the torments they'd heard others endure at her hands. And all over again, Seven was alone, aching for a company she didn't know still existed. She tried not to think of him often, it hurt her heart to do so — to see his face so beaten and bruised, to remember the kind touch of his hand, or even the cruel.

She needed to disarm a man, to duel and to win. Thinking only of that she warmed her palms over the flames, enjoying the slight scorch when she came too close. It was like a punishment, for all the horrid things she had done and all the horrid things she had yet to do.
It took a further three days before she finally found the one. A large, pot-bellied man whose hand she'd seen swipe at the backsides of more than one woman as he strolled through the market. His hands dove into pockets and skirts alike, though no one dared cause fuss, for such a burly man was certain to strike first and last. No one, that is, except Seven.

***
Merry Christmas!