"So, who wants to go rob a bank?"
"Wait a moment," McGonagall interjected, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "What about Severus? He led the Death Eaters into this school. He raised his wand against Albus. We must alert the Ministry and have him hunted down immediately."
"No," Dumbledore and Ethan said in unison.
The Order members looked between the two of them, the silence thick with confusion.
"Snape is on our side," Ethan said bluntly, leaning back against the desk and ignoring the shocked gasp from Phineas Nigellus's portrait. "He has been from the start. Albus was dying from the curse on that ring. He ordered Snape to kill him tonight to spare Draco Malfoy's soul and to solidify Snape's position as Voldemort's right-hand man."
Harry looked like he had been slapped. "You... you asked him to kill you? You were going to let him do it?"
"I did, Harry," Dumbledore said gently, his voice heavy with the weight of the secret. "Severus's position within Voldemort's inner circle is our greatest advantage. Tonight, when he returns to Voldemort and reports that the castle defenses held but that he 'attempted' the deed, his cover will remain intact. Voldemort will believe he is more loyal than ever for taking the risk."
"You guys are terrible at communicating," Ethan sighed, shaking his head. "Look, Snape is currently running back to his dark master. Voldemort is going to be furious that Dumbledore is still breathing, but he'll be focused on rallying his forces for a full-scale assault. We have a small window to strike his anchors while he thinks we're busy playing defense. So, I'll ask again: who's coming with me to Gringotts?"
"I'm in," Tonks said, stepping forward before the echoes of Ethan's voice had even died down. Her hair shifted from a shocked, pale white to a vibrant, electric pink—a sure sign that her Auror discipline was currently being overridden by a sharp, sudden thirst for some high-stakes mischief.
Dumbledore nodded, his expression a mask of calm support. "Minerva, Remus, stay here. Secure the castle and begin moving the students' families to safe houses. Bill, Harry, you two go to Grimmauld Place. Get that locket. Ethan and Nymphadora will handle the bank."
"Don't call me Nymphadora!" Tonks barked, though she followed Ethan toward the door with a predatory smirk playing on her lips.
*****
Ten minutes later, they were tucked away in a secluded stone alcove near the castle gates. The air was crisp, smelling of pine and the fading ozone of the night's battle.
"So," Tonks said, leaning back against the rough masonry. "What's the actual move, Ethan? Do you just snap your fingers and open one of those glittering orange holes directly into the vault? I saw you doing it inside the castle, and the wards didn't even twitch."
Ethan shook his head, stepping into her personal space. "It's not that easy. I can't open a portal to a location I haven't seen or at least have a very clear mental coordinate for. Gringotts is a subterranean maze built by paranoid gold-hoarders. If I open a portal blindly, I might drop us into a solid rock face or a pit of dragon fire."
Tonks frowned, the excitement dipping. "So we can't just blink in?"
"Not unless we want to spend three days blasting through stone," Ethan said. "We need to go through the front door. We need a disguise."
He looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on the curve of her hips. "You've got a master-class disguise kit built into your DNA. You go in as the crazy aunt everyone is terrified of. And me? I'll hitch a ride."
Tonks understood immediately. Her skin began to bubble and shift with a soft, wet sound. Within seconds, the bubbly Auror was gone. In her place stood the gaunt, wild-eyed, and utterly terrifying Bellatrix Lestrange. She practiced a manic, high-pitched cackle that made the hair on Ethan's neck stand up.
"And you?" she asked in Bellatrix's harsh, grating rasp. "Going to wear a mask?"
"I'm going to be a fly on the wall. Or, well, a beetle in a blouse."
"You know the Animagus transformation?" Tonks asked, her dark brows furrowing.
"Let's just say anything Albus can do, I can do with a bit more flair," Ethan winked. He tapped into the Dumbledore template's mastery of Transfiguration, feeling his mass collapse and his vision expand. Within seconds, he was an iridescent green jewel beetle, no larger than a thumbnail.
With a flutter of tiny wings, he buzzed upward and dived straight into the dark, lace-trimmed neckline of Tonks's dress.
He landed on the soft, warm curve of her chest, tucking himself into the deep, silk-lined valley of her cleavage. It was warm, smelled faintly of her perfume, and was—for a beetle—remarkably high-end real estate.
Author's Note:
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