Chapter 21: Caught

Jack knew at once to whom that voice belonged.

Keating repeated the question, and it didn�t escape Jack that he seemed to take special delight in drawing out each word for as long as possible.

�Found something, have you, Mr. Weasley?�

Whether that was contempt in his voice or mere surprise, it was difficult to discern; Jack knew only that a full burst of adrenalin seemed to have shot through his system in the last few seconds, and it was now coursing madly through his veins as he stood frozen to his spot. He could practically feel Keating�s eyes burning a hole through the back of his skull.

He had learnt a long time ago never to cower in the face of a threat. When he had been held captive as a child all those years ago--tortured and taunted and had his magic ripped away from him again and again--he had learnt to think on his feet. To be resourceful and not let fear or panic impair his judgment. The only way to get out of being trapped, he�d discovered, was to use the only thing he could rely on, no matter what: his wits.

And at least he could be grateful that his genes had blessed him a great deal in that department.

Think. He had to think. This looked bad, he knew it. Really bad. But he had one advantage at least. His back was facing Keating, and from his angle, the old man would have no way of seeing just what Jack was holding in his hand, only that he was standing over the desk, fiddling with... something.

Without further hesitation, without even taking a breath, Jack released the blueprint from his grip, letting it flutter to the desk, where it settled among the different sized bottles of ink. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he would probably have to explain how in bloody hell it could have ended up someplace entirely different from where it had been only minutes ago, but he decided rather quickly that that was probably the least of his worries at the moment. He would just have to cross that bridge when he came to it.

�I�d... dropped my wand onto your desk...�

He turned around to face Keating and held up the battered old Maple dragon heartstring his parents had bought him at Ollivander�s, the summer before he�d gone off to Hogwarts for the first time. The other man eyed it with slight disdain, studying it with for a few seconds, but said nothing in response.

Jack let out a laugh to break the tension which threatened to poison the very air around them.

�I�m quite embarrassed, really,� he said. �I can be awfully clumsy sometimes. Been away from sport too long, I reckon.�

Keating�s eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second; Jack couldn�t quite size up what the gesture meant exactly, because Keating�s face turned blank and unreadable again before long.

�Perhaps,� he said, �you ought to work on your grip then, Mr. Weasley...�

His tone was clipped and even, but it was as maddeningly indecipherable as the expression he wore. Jack eyed him carefully as he walked past him to sit behind his desk, but Keating offered no clues as to whether he seemed to believe Jack�s excuse or not. Jack�s eyes flicked down to the blueprint, now fully exposed on the desk where it lay face up, showing the entire underbelly of Gringotts� tunnels. Jack held his breath, wondering whether Keating would make some sort comment about it, but instead--to Jack�s surprise--he merely tucked the blueprint back underneath the stack of papers where Jack had found it, as if nothing at all had been out of order.

Jack quickly averted his eyes when Keating looked up, fixing his gaze on the bookshelf behind the desk, though he could still see Keating in his periphery, could tell that Keating was observing him now. Well, if the name of the game was to pretend that everything was as normal as could be, Jack was perfectly willing to play his game. But he couldn�t help but wonder: was Keating this cavalier because he really had no idea that Jack had seen what he had seen, or did he in fact know--but was just so arrogant that he couldn�t even be bothered to give a damn?

�You�re late.�

Jack�s eyes snapped back to meet the other man�s, noting that the casual annoyance in his voice was quite evident on his face as well.

People in high places must be allowed to have that kind of nerve, thought Jack. He gave Keating a cool grin.

�I wasn�t sure you were coming at all.�

Keating flinched noticeably; clearly he was offended by the somewhat cheeky remark.

�Insolent young man, aren�t you?� he said, his eyes raking Jack�s face. Then he clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. �Not much respect for authority, I see. But then, I should have expected as much. Clearly, the apple doesn�t fall far from the tree.�

Jack held his tongue, though wanted nothing more in that moment than to close his hands over the other man�s throat for daring to disparage his father. But there would be other ways to exact revenge, he decided. Far more interesting ways, especially if he were to follow this path and it ended up leading him to some surprising revelations indeed.

�Well, let�s do away with the formalities then, shall we?� Keating said. �I�m a busy man and I�m sure first year Aurors are just as burdened with a great deal of grunt work as they have been in years past. So to save ourselves precious time, why don�t you just give your briefing?�

At this, Jack couldn�t resist the temptation to feign ignorance. �My briefing, sir?�

Keating let out an exasperated sigh. Jack was testing his patience, all right.

�Forgot already, have you?� he said scathingly. �Allow me to jog your memory, then, Mr. Weasley. I had asked you here to brief me on your progress with the alleged time-turner thief. If your department still insists that there was such a theft and refuses to even entertain the possibility that the missing time-turner was simply stashed away by-�

�Oh, I do believe we have rather convincing evidence now that there was a theft that took place, Mr. Keating.�

The other man stared back with a mixture of fascination and annoyance. �Evidence?�

Hook, line, and sinker. Jack tucked away a smile and nodded.

�It seems Professor Snape did indeed keep a vault at Gringotts. Records indicated that it was opened on 2 July, 1995.� He paused to let Keating absorb the words. �Thirty years ago exactly.�

Keating looked to be running over the implications of this in his head, and then finally, he did something Jack didn�t expect at all: he laughed.

�Well, I�d hardly call that evidence,� he said. �I don�t even see how that could possibly be relevant-�

�It means,� Jack said, �that the letter he sent my dad was real, Mr. Keating. And someone else must have known it was... because the vault was broken into two weeks ago.�

The laughter stopped abruptly, giving way to obvious surprise. Jack knew he�d managed to catch Keating off-guard and inside, he cheered at the small triumph.

�That�s... impossible,� Keating sputtered. �We would have been notified! We are the Improper Use of Magic Office, after all... Anyone breaking into Gringotts would have had to have used dark magic! We would have known!�

Jack leaned forward slightly. �Well, that�s just it. Perhaps dark magic was never used. Whoever it was that did this might have been clever enough to try for something simpler. Something not quite so obvious.�

Something like using an invisibility cloak, which no one would have ever thought to guess, he thought, holding the gaze, enjoying the sight of Keating pondering this in silence.

And Keating was indeed quiet for a long time, until finally, he shook his head.

�I don�t see how this is connected to the time-turner case,� he said curtly. �It could all just be a coincidence. You seem awfully quick to make connections where there may be none, Mr. Weasley.�

�And if I may say so, sir,� Jack shot back, �you seem quick to dismiss connections where they may exist.� He knew he�d probably just crossed the line again with the remark, but he hadn�t been able to resist. Sensing Keating�s impending response, he added swiftly, �All right then, since you don�t seem to be quite convinced... I�ll ask for two more weeks.�

The old man furrowed his brow. �What?�

�Two more weeks,� Jack said matter-of-factly. �I�ll find the person who broke into that vault, Mr. Keating. I�ll bring you your thief. And then...�

He smiled, relishing Keating�s increasingly obvious uneasiness.

�... we�ll see what interesting things turn up.�

�Well,� came a familiar voice at the door, �I suppose there�s no need to wonder if I�ve found the right office.�

Jack shot up, nearly hitting his head on the nearby bookshelf, and knocking over a bottle of ink in the process. Well. So much for trying to impose some sort of order on his disaster area of a work space.

He�d been so preoccupied in doing so that he hadn�t noticed that he wasn�t alone; it was only by pure luck that he happened to look up, after a Ministry owl had mistakenly delivered a letter meant for Uncle Percy to him (such were the perils of being one of several Weasleys working in the Ministry building), and that�s when he caught the movement by the door.

�Uncle Harry! Come in...�

He reached into his cloak to fish out his wand, but Uncle Harry had already beat him to it, waving his wand over the stream of ink crawling over the surface of the desk. At once, the ink receded and trickled back into the bottle, which tipped back upright once more. He could hear Uncle Harry chuckling under his breath, and when he looked up, he saw that he�d mercifully attempted to suppress a smile.

�Hmm,� Uncle Harry said, �I got an odd sense of deja vu just now...�

He shook his head, as if to loosen the hazy memory from the recesses of his mind, but it seemed the memory had slipped away from him, and he looked up.

�So what was it you wanted to talk to me about?�

Jack didn�t answer him immediately. Instead, his eyes shot straight towards the door on instinct, and he moved past Uncle Harry to close it, making sure to peek outside first, just in case someone happened to be passing by at that very moment.

Uncle Harry had been watching him.

�I take it this is pretty major,� he said, as Jack made his way back to the desk. �Should I sit down then?�

Jack nodded. �Yeah... I reckon that might not be such a bad idea.�

He did so, eying Jack with a certain uneasiness, and he let out a slow breath. �I don�t like the sound of this.�

�Well I suppose it could be good news, depending on how you look at it.�

That didn�t seem to do much to make Uncle Harry looked any less apprehensive, however.

�All right,� Jack said. �I reckon it�d be best to just come out with it. No sense in trying to find the right way to tell you.�

�Jack,� Uncle Harry said slowly, �have you found out something?�

Jack nodded.

�I think... I think I may have found out who broke into Snape�s vault,� he said. �I think I know who the time-turner thief is.�

Jack recognized the head goblin sitting at the main counter. He was called Griphook, an especially wizened, grouchy goblin who seemed to enjoy no other activity more than sneering at the wizards and witches who walked into Gringotts.

Looking up from his work, he peered down at Jack and Uncle Harry from over his pointy nose and said, without a hint of warmth in his voice, �Yes?�

�My name�s Jack Weasley,� Jack said. It didn�t seem to make a damn bit of difference to Griphook who he was, but Jack pressed on nevertheless. �I�m an Auror with the Ministry. I�m investigating the vault break-in.�

Recognition seemed to flash in Griphook�s eyes. �Oh yes,� he said. �I do seem to recall you being here a while back.�

�I�m still investigating this break-in, and I was wondering if I might get access to some information you have.�

Griphook pursed his lips. �What kind of information?�

�I wondered if I might get a look at the records you kept of who had come into the bank that day. I just need to-�

�I can�t disclose that information!� Griphook seemed horrified at the thought, giving a slight shudder, then, in a sign that he must have been through with Jack now, he returned to his work.

Jack turned to Uncle Harry, who nodded slightly at him, as if to indicate that perhaps he should take over at this juncture. Jack gladly conceded to him; he knew that Griphook was rather familiar with Uncle Harry, having known him since he was a child, and if Griphook could be persuaded to be even a tiny bit more helpful to him, all the better.

Uncle Harry walked straight up to the counter, setting his elbow on it--a move that Jack knew goblins wouldn�t normally tolerate from anyone--and at once, Griphook looked up again.

�Isn�t there any way we can persuade you, Griphook?�

�What he�s asking is against the rules,� the goblin said flatly. �I can not break Gringotts rules.�

�Can�t you make an exception this once?� Uncle Harry said. �This is an unusual situation, after all. There�s been a break-in. Surely you want to help the Auror department do all it can to find out what happened?�

Griphook narrowed his eyes. He didn�t seem quite convinced yet, but he did seem to be starting to crack a little.

�Does he really need this information?�

�Yes,� Jack said. �Yes, it�s vital that I see it. It might help me figure out who did this.�

�Only a few would be capable of such dark magic,� Griphook said. �Only he-who-must-not-be-named, or his followers...�

Jack came closer, taking Uncle Harry�s lead. �And don�t you want to make sure we catch the person so that it won�t happen again?�

This seemed to trigger an epiphany in Griphook�s mind; he looked back at Jack, silent for a few moments, then he mumbled something incoherent that sounded a bit like, �Just a moment.�

He disappeared into the back area for a few minutes, only to reappear again with a large, leather-bound book, which he plopped onto the counter. He opened it and leafed through its pages, stopping at a particular point, then turning it around for Jack and Harry to see.

�There,� he said, pointing at the date with his stubby finger, �29 July.�

Jack pulled the book towards him for a better look, and he scanned the first page, then the second, then at last the third. And when he got to the fourth, his eye immediately caught it--and a jolt suddenly seized him.

He turned beside him to Uncle Harry, who must have seen the same thing as well, for his face had turned very grim.

There on the tenth line of names stood out one name in particular.

Richard Keating.