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Harry Potter: The Artisan's Path Chapter 85
🕑 Added 2024-09-06 07:31:43 +0000 UTCHi all,
Here’s the next chapter. Harry finally enters the Water Vault and has to face the trials without his magic.
Chapter 85
20th January
Gilderoy Lockhart's eyes narrowed as he watched Draco Malfoy slip out of the Great Hall after dinner. The young Slytherin had been avoiding him lately, and Gilderoy couldn't fathom why. He had thought they were developing a rapport, a relationship that could prove useful in his schemes against Harry Potter.
Curiosity piqued, Gilderoy decided to follow the boy. He waited a moment, savouring the last sip of his pumpkin juice, before rising from the staff table. He offered a dazzling smile to Professor Sprout as he excused himself.
The corridors were mostly empty as Gilderoy trailed Draco. He kept a discreet distance, ducking behind suits of armour and tapestries whenever Draco glanced back. The boy's furtive behaviour only heightened Gilderoy's intrigue.
Suddenly, Draco ducked into a girls' bathroom on the second floor. Gilderoy raised an eyebrow, recognising it as the domain of Moaning Myrtle. "Curious indeed," he murmured to himself, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
As Gilderoy approached the door, intent on discovering what mischief young Malfoy was up to, it suddenly burst open. Draco emerged, his face pale and drawn. Upon seeing Gilderoy, the boy's eyes widened in panic, his already pale complexion turning almost ghostly.
Without a word, Draco turned and bolted in the opposite direction. Gilderoy was left bewildered in his wake, staring at the retreating figure of the Slytherin boy.
"Now, what could have spooked him so?" Gilderoy wondered aloud, his hand hovering over the bathroom door. With a glance to ensure the corridor was empty, he pushed the door open and stepped into the girls' lavatory.
The bathroom was quiet, save for the steady drip of a leaky tap.
"Hello?" he called out, his voice bouncing off the walls. He half-expected Moaning Myrtle to appear. When no ghostly figure materialised, he began to search the bathroom in earnest, his curiosity growing with each passing moment.
As he searched the stalls, he noticed something out of place—a small, black book lying discarded in one of the toilets. Using his wand, he summoned it, surprised to discover that it was completely dry.
"What's this then?" he mused, turning the book over in his hands before flipping open the cover. To his surprise, the pages were completely blank, pristine, and untouched.
As if in response to his question, words began to appear on the page, as though written by an invisible hand.
"Hello. My name is Tom Riddle. Who are you?"
Gilderoy blinked in surprise, his grip on the book tightening. He hesitated, suspicion warring with curiosity. As he debated whether to respond, the words faded away, sinking back into the paper as if they had never been there. Moments later, they were replaced by new ones:
"Is someone there? Can you see my writing?"
His curiosity finally got the best of him. After all, what harm could come from a simple conversation? He could handle a mere talking diary. With a flourish, he pulled out a peacock quill from his robes and put it to paper.
"Greetings, Tom Riddle," he wrote. "I am Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defence League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award."
He waited, a self-satisfied smile playing on his lips, as his introduction sank into the page. Moments later, Tom's reply appeared:
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Professor Lockhart. I've never spoken to a professor before."
Gilderoy preened at the deferential tone, his ego-inflating at the perceived admiration. "Indeed I am," he wrote back, his quill scratching across the page. "I'm the current Care of Magical Creatures professor. Quite an important position, as I'm sure you can imagine."
"Oh, how fascinating!" Tom's words appeared quickly, betraying an eagerness that further stroked Gilderoy's ego. "I'd love to hear more about your experiences. Perhaps you could tell me about some of your adventures?"
A broad grin spread across Gilderoy's face. It felt good to be appreciated, especially after the discouraging weeks he'd been having. His carefully laid plans had been unravelling at every turn, leaving him feeling frustrated and uncertain.
His attempts to influence the Centaurs hadn't been going as well as he'd hoped. The forest creatures had proven far more resistant to manipulation than he had expected. It was a significant setback, a constant reminder of his inability to meet Obsidian's expectations.
Moreover, he was still awaiting further instructions from Eight regarding Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter. The lack of communication left him feeling adrift, uncertain of his next move or his place within the shadowy organisation.
His efforts to build a rapport with Ginny Weasley had likewise proved fruitless. The girl seemed to have developed an uncanny ability to vanish whenever he approached, always armed with a ready excuse to be elsewhere. It was maddening—how was he supposed to get close to her and ensure that he had the perfect opportunity to kidnap her when the time arrived?
Even his teaching duties, once a source of easy adulation, had become a trial. The students, initially awed by his reputation and dazzling smile, were beginning to see through the cracks in his facade. Their pointed questions about magical creatures often left him floundering, exposing the limits of his practical knowledge. It was becoming increasingly difficult to deflect their inquiries with charm and bluster, and he feared it was only a matter of time before his carefully constructed image crumbled entirely.
But now, here was Tom Riddle, an eager audience ready to hang on his every word. Gilderoy settled himself more comfortably against the bathroom wall, his spirits lifting as he poised his quill over the diary once more.
"Well, Tom," he wrote, his quill scratching across the page with renewed enthusiasm, "you're in for a treat. Let me tell you about the time I defeated the..."
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
22nd January
The pre-dawn chill nipped at Harry's face as he walked across thedampened grass of the Hogwarts grounds. The previous night's raucous celebration still echoed in his ears—Gryffindor's third consecutive Quidditch victory had cemented their lead in the standings, and the common room had been awash with butterbeer and jubilation until the wee hours.
Harry allowed himself a small smile as he recalled the match. The look on Cho Chang's face as he'd snatched the Snitch from right under her nose had been priceless. The Ravenclaw Seeker had been inconsolable, her teammates awkwardly patting her back as she'd stormed off the pitch.
But now was not the time for reminiscing. Harry had a mission, one that required utmost secrecy and haste. He'd left a note for his girlfriends, knowing they'd cover for him if anyone noticed his absence. He hoped to be back before the castle truly stirred to life and his grandmother noticed his absence.
As he reached the edge of the Black Lake, Harry paused, scanning the grounds one last time. Satisfied he was alone, he reached into his pocket and withdrew what appeared to be a toy car—a perfect miniature of the Potter Mobile. With a tap of his wand and a muttered incantation, the vehicle expanded to its full size.
Harry clambered into the driver's seat, his heart racing with excitement. He'd been practising in secret ever since his grandfather had taught him the basics of driving, but this would be his first real test. The Potter Mobile's enchantments made it nearly impossible to hurt himself, but he knew that overconfidence could be just as dangerous as inexperience.
With a deep breath, he turned the key. The engine purred to life, and the dashboard lit up with a soft, magical glow, various runes and symbols indicating the car's numerous magical functions.
Slowly, carefully, he eased the Potter Mobile into the lake. As the water lapped at the windscreen, Harry activated the submersible mode. The car shimmered, its exterior morphing to become sleeker, and more hydrodynamic. The wheels retracted, replaced by magical propulsion systems that would drive them through the water. Bubbles streamed past the windows as the Potter Mobile sank beneath the surface.
The murky depths of the Black Lake engulfed them, and Harry flicked on the headlights. Beams of light cut through the gloom, revealing an underwater landscape. Harry could have sworn he saw a Grindylow peering curiously from behind a stand of kelp, its long fingers curling around the plant's stem as it watched the strange contraption pass by.
Following Jacob's directions, Harry steered the Potter Mobile towards the hidden underwater channel that connected the Black Lake to Serpent Lake.
After a minute of driving, a shimmering distortion appeared in the water ahead. Harry's grip tightened on the steering wheel as he recognised the telltale signs of a magical rift. It twisted and writhed, its edges blurring the water around it in a dizzying display of magical energy.
With utmost care, Harry manoeuvred the Potter Mobile around the rift. He didn’t think it could do any damage to the vehicle, but he wasn’t going to risk finding out.
The channel gradually widened, its walls becoming less defined until they fell away entirely. Soon he found himself emerging into the vast expanse of Serpent Lake.
Activating the Potter Mobile's shield charm—a precaution he now felt immensely grateful for—Harry began his search for the Water Vault. A shimmering, translucent bubble enveloped the car, its surface rippling with protective enchantments. Jacob's directions had been frustratingly vague, mentioning only that it lay "in the heart of the lake".
As if summoned by his thoughts, a massive shape loomed out of the murky water. Harry's breath caught in his throat as he recognised the distinctive silhouette of the creature Muggles had dubbed the Loch Ness Monster. The beast was easily twice the size of the Potter Mobile, its long neck swivelling to fix Harry with an unblinking stare. Its scales gleamed with an iridescent sheen, shifting colours in the Potter Mobile's headlights.
For a moment, they regarded each other in mutual surprise. Then, with a powerful sweep of its flippers, the creature charged.
The impact sent the Potter Mobile spinning, and Harry's teeth rattled in his skull. But the shield held, absorbing the brunt of the attack. A web of magical energy flared across the shield's surface, dissipating the force of the blow. Adrenaline surging, Harry gunned the engine. The Potter Mobile shot forward, leaving a trail of bubbles in its wake.
The chase was on.
The Loch Ness Monster—or Nathair Uisce, as Jacob had called it—pursued with single-minded determination. Its massive body cut through the water with surprising grace, and Harry found himself pushing the Potter Mobile to its limits just to stay ahead. He weaved between towering underwater rock formations, the car's enhanced agility allowing him to make turns that would have been impossible in a normal vehicle.
To his horror, more shapes began to emerge from the gloom. Two, then three, then a half-dozen more Nathair Uisce joined the pursuit. Harry's palms were slick with sweat as he weaved between rock formations and through forests of towering kelp, the pack of predators hot on his heels.
"Come on, come on," Harry muttered. He had to be close—if only he could shake off his pursuers long enough to search properly.
A massive shape in the distance caught his eye. There, nestled at the bottom of the lake, was a massive rock formation. As he drew closer, he felt a warmth against his chest. The key—the one Hermione has discovered by solving the puzzle—was glowing through his shirt, its light intensifying as they approached the formation.
This had to be it—the entrance to the Water Vault.
But the Nathair Uisce were closing in. Harry could see their massive forms in his rear-view mirror, jaws agape and ready to strike. He could make out every detail of their ancient, terrifying visages—the rows of razor-sharp teeth, the powerful muscles rippling beneath their scaled hides, the primal hunger in their eyes. He had seconds, at most, before they were upon him.
With a silent prayer to whatever forces might be listening, Harry aimed the Potter Mobile straight for the rock formation and floored the accelerator. The car shot forward like a torpedo, the water around it frothing with the force of its passage.
Just as the lead Nathair Uisce lunged, its teeth mere inches from the Potter Mobile's bumper, a shimmer passed over the rock face. A doorway materialised, its edges glowing with the same golden light as the key. Intricate runes carved into the stone began to glow, forming a complex magical pattern that seemed to invite Harry in.
Harry didn't hesitate. He drove straight through the opening and braced himself for impact. The Potter Mobile passed through the doorway as if it were made of water, the sensation akin to driving through a cool mist.
The Potter Mobile burst through the doorway and into a cavernous underwater grotto. Behind them, the entrance sealed itself with a resounding boom, cutting off the enraged roars of the Nathair Uisce. The sudden silence was almost deafening, broken only by the gentle lapping of water against stone and the soft hum of the Potter Mobile's idling engine.
Harry took a look at his surroundings through the windshield. The grotto was enormous, its ceiling lost in shadows high above. At the far end of the cavern, a raised dais broke the surface of the water, upon which sat an ornate stone archway.
Harry guided the Potter Mobile to the edge of the dais and cut the engine. As he climbed out, his legs shaking from the adrenaline of the chase, he couldn't help but feel a sense of awe. He had done it. He had found the Water Vault.
He approached the stone archway. As he reached out to step through, an invisible force repelled him, causing him to stumble backwards. Frowning, he examined the archway more closely, noticing intricate runes etched into the stone that he'd overlooked before.
Squinting in the dim light, Harry deciphered the script. "To prove worthy, one must face three trials," he read aloud. "A test of courage, a test of fortitude, and a test of wisdom. No magic or tricks may be employed." He groaned, realising the implications. "Bloody brilliant," he muttered.
With a resigned sigh, Harry reached for his wand, feeling oddly vulnerable as he removed it from his holster. He then slipped off the gauntlet containing his spell cards, another layer of protection stripped away. Lastly, he removed his staff. Hesitating for a moment, he placed the items into his inventory within the Source.
Confident that he'd complied with the rules, Harry attempted to step through the archway once more. To his frustration, the invisible barrier remained steadfast. "Oh, come on," he grumbled, glaring at the unyielding stone. He thought he could retain his items by using the Source, but even that wasn’t exempt from the rules. Just how the hell did the enchantments recognise the Source? He thought it was omnipotent.
Reluctantly, Harry set the Source down at the entrance with the other items, feeling as though he were relinquishing a part of himself.
Harry stepped through the archway and, this time, passed through unimpeded. Beyond lay a narrow tunnel, its rough-hewn walls glistening with moisture. The passage seemed to lead to a dead end, but as Harry approached, he realised the tunnel was filled with water.
"Of course, it couldn't be simple," he muttered, peering into the murky depths. The water was dark and still, offering no clues as to where it might lead or how far the submerged passage might extend. For a moment, he contemplated transforming into his Demiguise form, thinking the creature's superior night vision might prove useful in the darkness.
But as quickly as the thought occurred, he dismissed it. The Demiguise's eyesight might be an advantage, its smaller form would be a hindrance in swimming any considerable distance. No, he'd have to rely on his human form.
Harry approached the water's edge and dove in without any further hesitation. The cold hit him like a physical blow, driving the air from his lungs. He swam along the surface until he reached the apparent dead end, then took another deep breath before plunging beneath the surface.
Sure enough, an underwater passage extended beyond the initial area, illuminated faintly by some slowing mushrooms on the sides of the walls. Harry propelled himself forward, his strokes powerful and efficient.
As the seconds ticked by, the burning in Harry's lungs intensified. He tried to remain calm, knowing that panic would only waste precious oxygen. But as the passage seemed to stretch endlessly before him, doubts began to creep in. Did he have enough air to make it all the way? Was this a test he was meant to fail?
Just as the urge to gasp for air became nearly overwhelming, Harry spotted a faint glimmer ahead. Hope surged through him, giving him a second wind. He swam faster, his muscles screaming in protest.
Suddenly, the narrow passage opened up into a larger chamber. To Harry's dismay, he found himself faced with three identical tunnels, each illuminated by the same glowing mushrooms.
Harry hovered in the water, precious seconds ticking by as he tried to decide which path to take. His lungs felt as though they were about to burst, dark spots dancing at the edges of his vision. In that moment of desperation, clarity struck him – it didn't matter which tunnel he chose. If he wasted any more time deliberating, he'd drown right here and now.
Making a split-second decision, Harry chose the leftmost tunnel. He swam with renewed vigour, pushing his body to its limits. The tunnel seemed to go on forever, each stroke more agonising than the last. Just as Harry felt certain he could hold his breath no longer, the passage began to slope upwards.
With one final, Herculean effort, Harry propelled himself towards the surface. His head broke the water, and he gasped, drawing in great lungfuls of sweet, life-giving air. For several moments, he simply floated there, his chest heaving as he revelled in the simple act of breathing.
As his faculties returned, Harry became aware of his surroundings. He had emerged into another chamber, larger than the first. The walls here were smoother, adorned with intricate mosaics depicting scenes of merpeople and other aquatic magical creatures. A stone platform jutted out from one wall, offering a place to rest.
Harry swam to the platform and hauled himself out of the water, his legs trembling with exertion. As he lay there, catching his breath, he couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. He'd faced the first trial—the test of courage—and emerged victorious.
But his relief was short-lived. As Harry's breathing steadied, he became aware of a low, rhythmic sound echoing through the chamber. Sitting up, he peered into the gloom, trying to discern its source.
At the far end of the chamber, barely visible in the dim light, stood another archway. But between Harry and this potential exit, the floor of the chamber was... moving. As his eyes adjusted, Harry realised with a jolt that the entire floor was covered in a writhing mass of eels.
These were no ordinary eels, however. Each was easily as long as Harry was tall, their bodies thick and muscular. In the faint light, Harry could make out patterns of luminescent spots along their sides, pulsing in hypnotic rhythms. Most alarmingly, occasional sparks danced between their razor-sharp teeth, leaving little doubt as to their magical and dangerous nature.
"Voltage eels," Harry breathed, recognising the creatures from his Care of Magical Creatures textbook. They were like a nastier, magical version of electric eels. Known for their aggressive temperament and powerful electrical discharges, a single voltage eel could stun a full-grown wizard. An entire floor of them was nothing short of lethal.
Harry's mind raced, trying to recall everything he'd learned about the creatures. They were sensitive to movement and vibrations in the water, which would make swimming across the chamber a death sentence. Their electrical discharges could arc through water, making even the slightest contact potentially fatal.
As he contemplated this new challenge, the words from the first archway echoed in his mind: a test of fortitude. This, then, was the second trial. He would have to find a way across this living, electrified floor without the aid of magic.
Harry scanned the chamber, looking for any possible route across. The walls were sheer and smooth, offering no handholds. The ceiling was lost in darkness, but even if there were a way to traverse it, Harry had no rope or climbing gear.
His gaze fell on a pile of debris in one corner of the platform—broken bits of stone and what looked like the remains of a wooden structure, long since rotted away. Among the detritus, a long, sturdy-looking wooden beam caught his eye.
An idea began to form in Harry's mind. It was risky, perhaps even foolhardy, but it might just work. He retrieved the beam, testing its weight and balance. It was heavy, but not unmanageably so.
Harry approached the edge of the platform, his heart pounding. The eels below seemed to sense his presence, their movements becoming more agitated. Taking a deep breath, Harry raised the beam above his head.
"Right then," he muttered, steeling himself. "Here goes nothing."
In one fluid motion, Harry brought the beam down, slamming it onto the heads of the nearest eels. Before the creatures could react, he stepped onto the beam, balancing precariously as he used it like a makeshift bridge.
The effect was immediate and terrifying. The eels beneath the beam thrashed violently, their electrical discharges illuminating the chamber in strobing flashes. The smell of ozone filled the air, and Harry could feel the hairs on his arms standing on end from the ambient electricity.
But the gambit worked. The eels directly beneath the beam were momentarily stunned, creating a small safe zone. Harry took another step, then another, his movements careful and deliberate. Each time he advanced, he lifted the back of the beam and brought it down ahead of him, creating a new safe spot to step onto.
The going was agonisingly slow. Every movement had to be precise, every step carefully placed. One slip, one moment of lost balance, and he would fall into the electrified mass below.
Sweat beaded on Harry's brow, both from exertion and sheer terror. The constant flashing of electricity was disorienting, the angry hisses and snaps of the eels a cacophony that set his nerves on edge. But he pressed on, focusing on each individual step, each placement of the beam.
After what felt like hours but was likely only a minute, Harry finally reached the far side of the chamber. With one last, desperate lunge, he threw himself onto the safety of the opposite platform, the beam clattering to the stone beside him.
For several long moments, Harry lay there, his chest heaving, his muscles trembling from the strain. He had done it. He had crossed a floor of voltage eels armed with nothing but a piece of wood and his own determination.
As his breathing steadied, Harry sat up, turning his attention to the doorway before him. He had passed the test of courage in the underwater tunnel, and now the test of fortitude with the voltage eels. Only one trial remained—the test of wisdom.
At least he assumed that was the case. What if the whole thing had just been the first trial? There was nothing to show where one trial ended and another began.
With a groan, Harry pulled himself to his feet and stepped through the doorway. He found himself in a vast, circular chamber. The room was dimly lit by an ethereal blue glow emanating from the walls, casting shadows across the stone floor.
At the centre of the chamber stood an enormous cylindrical structure, easily five metres in diameter and stretching from floor to ceiling. It appeared to be made of glass or some similar transparent material and was filled to the brim with water. Within this massive aquarium, Harry could see a small pedestal upon which rested a gleaming golden object—undoubtedly the prize he sought.
"Right," Harry muttered, approaching the structure cautiously. "The test of wisdom, is it?"
As he drew closer, he noticed a series of concentric rings embedded in the floor around the cylinder. Each ring was adorned with various runes and symbols, some of which Harry recognised from his studies, while others were completely alien to him.
To the left of the cylinder stood a stone plinth with an inscription carved into its surface. Harry leaned in to read:
"To claim the treasure within, one must understand the flow. Balance the elements, control the tide, and prove your wisdom to be true."
Below the inscription were five symbols: a flame, a leaf, a mountain, a cloud, and a wave. Each symbol was accompanied by a small, circular depression.
Harry's gaze darted between the plinth and the massive water-filled cylinder. "Balance the elements," he mused aloud. "Control the tide..."
He began to circle the structure, studying it intently. As he moved, he noticed that the water inside the cylinder wasn't still. Currents were moving within, creating swirling patterns that seemed to shift and change as he watched.
Near the base of the cylinder, Harry spotted five valve-like mechanisms, each marked with one of the elemental symbols from the plinth. It was then that the nature of the puzzle began to dawn on him.
"It's a water management system," he realised. "I need to manipulate the flow to reach the treasure."
Harry returned to the plinth, examining it more closely. The circular depressions seemed designed to hold something, but what? He scanned the room, searching for any clues he might have missed.
In the far corner of the chamber, partially hidden in shadow, Harry spotted a small pile of stones. He hurried over, finding five smooth, round pebbles, each engraved with one of the elemental symbols.
"Brilliant," he grinned, gathering the stones and returning to the plinth.
Harry began to contemplate the puzzle before him with the stones in hand. The key, he realised, was in understanding how each element affected the water's flow. Fire would heat the water, causing it to rise. Earth would likely create obstacles or channels. The air might create bubbles or currents, while water would increase the volume. The plant symbol, he guessed, might absorb water or create organic barriers.
Harry placed the firestone in its corresponding depression. Immediately, he saw a change in the cylinder. A gentle heat began to emanate from the bottom, causing a slow upward current. However, this alone wasn't enough to raise the water level significantly.
Next, he added the earth stone. Sections of the cylinder's interior shifted, creating a spiralling path that guided the heated water upwards. The water level began to rise more noticeably, but it was still far from reaching the pedestal.
Harry hesitated, considering his next move carefully. If he added too much water too quickly, it might overflow before reaching the treasure. He decided to place the airstone next, hoping to create additional lift.
As the airstone settled into place, bubbles began to form within the cylinder, further agitating the water and helping it climb higher. The pedestal was now half-submerged, but the treasure remained tantalisingly out of reach.
Harry reached for the waterstone and then paused. Adding more water now might be too much. Instead, he placed the plant stone in its depression. Instantly, a network of thin, vine-like structures began to grow within the cylinder, creating a complex system of channels that guided the water's flow more precisely.
With four of the five stones in place, the water level had risen significantly, nearly reaching the treasure. But something wasn't quite right. The currents were chaotic, and the water level was fluctuating unpredictably.
Harry stared at the final stone—water—in his hand. The inscription echoed in his mind: "Balance the elements, control the tide."
He realised his mistake. It wasn't about using all the elements to their fullest extent, but about finding the right balance between them. With a deep breath, he began removing and replacing stones, carefully observing the effects each combination had on the water's flow.
After several attempts, Harry found a configuration that seemed promising. The fire and air stones created an upward current, while the earth and plant stones guided and controlled the flow. As he placed the water stone in the final depression, he held his breath.
The effect was immediate and dramatic. The water level rose steadily, guided by the organic channels and earthen pathways. The heat from the firestone and the lift from the air stone worked in perfect harmony to drive the water upwards.
Slowly but surely, the water enveloped the pedestal. The golden object—which Harry could now see was a small, ornate key—began to float upwards with the rising tide.
The key reached the top just as the water threatened to overflow the cylinder. There was a soft click, and a small opening appeared at the cylinder's peak, just large enough for Harry to reach through and grasp the key.
As his fingers closed around the cool metal, Harry felt a surge of triumph. He had done it. He had solved the puzzle and claimed the prize.
No sooner had he withdrawn the key than the water began to recede, draining away through unseen channels. The stones on the plinth lost their glow, and the cylinder became still once more.
Harry examined the key in his hand, marvelling at its intricate design. Tiny runes were etched along its surface, glowing faintly with magical energy.
“This was easier than I thought it would be,” Harry mused.
Then It occurred to him that the trials would be harder for the average wizard. Especially the first trial. All of them required a certain level of physical fitness and common sense that was hard to find among his kind when they were so reliant on their wand.
With a deep breath, Harry turned towards the far end of the chamber, where a final archway awaited. The key held in his grasp, ready to unlock whatever lay beyond.
So, what do you think? The vault scene took up most of the chapter, but it was fun to write.
Thanks for reading.
