LE Bandit: The Gringotts Bank Heist

Chapter 1- Leaving Paris

Along the bustling, cobblestone street of la rue du Cirque, located near the illustrious Church of Scotland and le Grand Palais de la decouverte, two glossy witches dressed in black trench coats and dark-tinted shades walked on opposite sides of the street, both heading in the same direction. Their presence amongst the crowds of Parisian pedestrians was virtually unnoticeable; women held on tightly to their children and brown-bagged parcels, while men trudged down the street with their heads held high, basking pleasantly in the afternoon blush.

Not one muggle nor wizard passing either of the incognito witches could have suspected they were about to rob the most established and well-protected wizarding bank in France: La banque de sorcellerie française.

The clatter of high heels on marble flooring echoed in the French bank's intricate atrium as the masked women slipped through the entrance's revolving doors. Inside was a stained-glass dome overshadowing an elongated row of banking tills, where energetic elves greeted awaiting witches and wizards wishing to withdraw funds. The witches momentarily stopped to observe the giddy creatures and grinned; the French bank had made a grave mistake by hiring house-elves, who were prone to distraction.

One of the witches approached an open till occupied by a particularly old house-elf. Before addressing her, the creature neatly laid his green-speckled quill on a spare bit of parchment and screwed on the lid of his inkbottle. His small, oval spectacles resided precociously on the bridge of his crooked nose.

"Bonjour. Aimeriez-vous faire un retrait, madame? Would you like to make a withdrawal, madam?" the elf inquired politely, folding his aged hands.

"Oui," the witch replied in a perfect Parisian accent, producing a golden key from her coat pocket. She placed it on the counter for the elf to see; the number 999 was written across it in crisp, black lettering.

With a brassy rattle, the house-elf pulled open a drawer in the filing cabinet to his left, which extended nearly five meters outward. Leafing through the numeric files, he procured the woman's bank records and laid them out before them.

"Mme Claire LeBrun?" the elf probed after inspecting the file, leading the shadowed woman to a lacquered door across the atrium. Before opening the door, he handed the witch a larger nickel key with the same number—999—stamped on it. While the smaller key was used for customer identification, this one would open the vault.

The elf stopped in front of the colossal door—which led to multiple safes filled with wizarding money and priceless treasures, like jewelry, antiques and family heirlooms—and waved his hand over it in a counterclockwise motion. The door obediently clicked open.

Suddenly, a shrill wail echoed out from amongst the crowd of customers. The elf's bulky key clattered to the ground.

Drapes firmly shut over all the windows in the atrium, and every candle and source of light in the space abruptly extinguished, leaving customers confused and fearful in the dark. Bank security immediately began to pry the curtains open to let light back in, but the crushed velvet remained stubbornly shut.

"Ouvrir les rideaux, rapidement!" one burly security guard ordered gruffly at the house-elves, grasping a fistful of curtain and yanking.

Precisely ten seconds later, the curtains relaxed and rolled back into place and every candle flame flickered back into existence. Anxious customers muttered to one another as the space brightened again, grudgingly pocketing their wands and carrying on with their banking business.

The elderly elf scratched his head in confusion, realizing the mysterious woman he had been serving had disappeared. The door was also closed, making him second-guess if he had opened it in the first place. He scuttled back to his till, intent on standing on his chair to survey the crowd for her, but instead found a key, numbered 666, sitting on his polished desk. He furrowed his white-haired brow, calculating, until another customer approached his till.

Behind the near-impenetrable bank door lingered the two disguised witches, who gleefully shed their Chanel shades and decorative head scarves. Tucking the fashion accessories into their designer handbags, Lily Evans and Roxanne Dewey surveyed the catacombs housing thousands of vaults belonging to La banque de sorcellerie française customers.

"Good to see you finally perfected that light shield spell, Roxanne," Lily quipped, grinning wildly as she turned to lock the entrance door with the Collaportus spell. "I was worried you were spending more time watching soaps on television then preparing."

"I do love making you uneasy," Roxanne teased as she pulled a coffee-stained map out of her trench-coat pocket. "If we had slipped through the door even a second later than we did, the back-up security would've clamped it shut again. That was a stroke of luck."

"You call it luck, I call it cleverness," Lily smirked.

After months of research, Lily and Roxanne had discovered that the wizarding bank's security policies were quite negligent, lacking key protocols, such as posting trolls at high-security vaults or installing magical surveillance in and outside of the bank. They'd used such disregard for security to their advantage; for example, exploiting the practice that after any major power failure or unexplained occurrences, all open doors would be shut after ten seconds.

"Do you have the key to LeBrun's vault?" Roxanne asked eagerly, unraveling the map as Lily produced the key. "Merlin, that elf was just too easy."

"As scatterbrained as a goldfish I'm afraid," Lily laughed, twiddling the key between her fingers. "He mistook my 666 key for 999 as soon as I flipped it over."

"Excellent. I canceled our 666 account yesterday morning and had all the bank files destroyed. By the time the French Aurors catch wind of what's happened, there won't be any evidence to suggest who committed the robbery."

"Then what'd you say we get this show on the road, ma amie?" Lily said mischievously, snatching the map from Roxanne's manicured hands and heading down the northern corridor.

"Such an impatient bank robber you are," Roxanne fussed, pulling out her wand and other necessary tools before following in Lily's fervent wake. "Shall we apologize in advance for pillaging the LeBrun family fortune?"

"I think not," Lily said dryly, illuminating the gravel path before them with her ignited wand. "I can't say I've ever regretted robbing a death eater's family."

"Lily Evans, stealing from the evil and giving to the good. Are you striving to become the next Robin Hood?" Roxanne mocked.

"The only difference between Robin Hood and us is that we steal from the evil and then indulge in the stolen wealth ourselves," Lily grinned at her friend, though she felt an odd stab of guilt. "Well, that and we have great fashion sense. Green leotards and feathered hats are so last year."

La banque de sorcellerie française Robbed: Bankers Befuddled

Glenda Chittock
Reporter for the Daily Prophet and Author of "Charm Your Own Cheese"

Paris - With innovative magical protection spells and curses that repel prying vandals, it's hard to believe that a prominent wizarding bank in downtown Paris could possibly be raided by any common thief. Which poses an imperative question: who robbed La banque de sorcellerie française, and how did they manage it?

On the evening of Friday, May 26, a bank employee noticed one of the vault doors ajar, an odd and dangerous sight to behold in the popular money shop. After banking security was alerted, staff not only discovered that the safe had been completely ravaged from top to bottom, but that it belongs to a prominent and wealthy French family, the name of which has yet to be disclosed.

All banking staff—including resident ghouls and house-elves—are being questioned, but it's rumoured that a lead provided by an elderly house-elf has captured the particular attention of inquiring Aurors. The French Ministry has yet to affirm any details on the burglary of one of its finest banks, but Minister Jean-Claude Bouchard had this to say when asked about the possible muggers.

"I 'ave all 'zee confidence in my team of Aurors; they will most certainly find 'zee perpetrator and all money lost will be returned upon 'zer capture! It iz' only a matter of time before zee' criminals will be locked away in Azkaban!"

La banque de sorcellerie française has taken decisive action and is currently in the process of updating its magical security system, including adding nifflers at all bank exits. It's also possible the bank will replace their famed house-elves with goblins.

The French Ministry urges the public to come forward with any names or subsequent information that may be important to their investigation.

"Anything French is usually rubbish, including banks," Sirius Black commented dismissively, chucking the Daily Prophet onto the desk and leaning back in James' leather desk chair, hands tucked behind his head. "Except for French women, that is...I love a women with an accent."

"You love anything with legs and breasts, Sirius," James Potter remarked from across his spacious office; he had his head buried deep in a filing cabinet, looking for an elusive document.

"That's not true. You don't see me snogging chickens, do you?" Sirius retorted, a Cheshire-cat grin spreading over his close-shaven face.

"Shouldn't you be back in the Department of Magical Games and Sports by now?" James snapped, sighing as he approached his desk and saw Sirius' coffee spilled all over his Ministry documents. His quills were smudged with cream.

"I'm on my lunch break!" Sirius said defensively. He jumped out of his chair as James' fair-haired secretary sauntered by his office, carrying a box of sealed letters. "What did you say your secretary's name was again?"

James rolled his eyes and shut his office door firmly. "Her name is Miranda, and she's happily married and pregnant."

"What does that matter? Minor details," Sirius replied, his eyes teasing as he leaned backward in his chair to catch a better glimpse of her. He fell off and smacked his head on the hardwood floor.

James' deep laughter could be heard from outside of his office, as well as Sirius' aggravated cursing. A scarlet piece of parchment folded into the shape of an airplane zoomed into James' office via his shuttered window and promptly began to peck Sirius in the head.

"Bloody hell," Sirius moaned, snatching the paper mid-air and reading the scribbled writing inside. "Seems Bagman doesn't think a three-hour lunch break is warranted...I'll see you at the Leaky Cauldron tonight for drinks?"

Sirius peeled himself off of the floor, rubbing his throbbing head as he left James' office and entered a lift that would take him to level seven of the Ministry. James heard him exclaim, "Miranda, darling!" before the elevator door closed, causing a smile to twitch on his lips.

James Potter was a remarkably attractive wizard, measuring over 6'3 from head to toe. He had a mass of black, untamable hair and large bookish spectacles that sat comfortably on the bridge of his nose. Besides his dashing looks and talent as an Auror, he was well known for his infectious laughter and unmatchable smile, making him one of the most sought after males employed at the Ministry of Magic.

Working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, James Potter took his job as an Auror very seriously. Though the Dark Arts had never been a passion of his, he'd acquired a thirst for justice during his preliminary years at Hogwarts. At the age of twenty, it was quite an achievement to be a trained Auror and valued strategist; the only other Auror his age working at the Ministry was Frank Longbottom. Both James and Frank had received top honors in Defense against the Dark Arts during their Hogwarts days, a triumph he was still proud to this day.

"Mr. Potter?" Miranda, James' very pregnant secretary, inquired, knocking on his office door softly before entering. "Is there anything you would have me do before I go home?"

"How many times must I insist you call me by my first name?" James asked, smiling. "And no, I'll be just fine. You'll bring the baby after he or she is born, won't you?"

"Of course," Miranda replied pleasantly. She carried a box of baby presents under her right arm and grasped a bushel of brightly-coloured balloons in her left. "I meant to ask you.: have you found a replacement for me yet?"

"No, not yet...it looks like I'll be doing my own filing for a while," James divulged, looking overwhelmed at the very thought of trying to organize his life. "All I can say is I'll miss you and your neat folders dearly."

"I thought you had a long cue of eager girls to interview for my job!" Miranda chirped in surprise, her eyes growing wide.

"I did. They weren't really after the job as much as...well…" James started awkwardly.

"As you?" Miranda burst into splendid laughter. Her hands spread over her large belly as James tried to keep his embarrassment in check. "It must be so difficult to beadored by the female population."

"I'll have you know it comes with its complexities!" James argued, flashing his perfect teeth. "Being pregnant has made you positively giddy!"

"It's true," Miranda said, her pregnancy giving her a pretty glow. "But if you were still interested in hiring, I have a cousin that's moving to London and she's looking for a job."

"What are her credentials?" James asked, intrigue building as he hoped to nab a secretary before his office was reduced to shambles.

"She's very sharp. Roxanne graduated with honors from Hogwarts; I believe her specialty was Ancient Runes and History of Magic. She would make an excellent secretary; she is incredibly detail-oriented and meticulous," Miranda explained.

"Your cousin sounds perfect. When is she arriving in town?" James probed, wondering why he couldn't remember any girls with the name "Roxanne" ever attending Hogwarts.

"Tonight. I believe she and a friend are moving into their apartment, but I'm sure you can arrange an interview with her tomorrow morning."

Once Miranda left with her yellow and green baby shower gifts, James packed up his briefcase, poured himself a freshly-brewed coffee and left his office. He encountered many colleagues in square cubicles on his way to the glass elevator.

"Oi! Potter!" A balding, black wizard named Kingsley Shacklebolt bawled from behind his cubicle. "Are you going to catch the Chudley Cannons game tonight on the WWN?"

"Sirius, Remus, Peter and I are going to the Leaky Cauldron tonight, we'll catch the game there," James bellowed back; some witches poked their heads out from behind their workstations and giggled. "But of course I'll be supporting Puddlemere United!"

"How could you? Joey Jenkins is the best beater in the whole bloody league! The Cannons will win the cup this year for sure!"

"Keep dreaming, Shacklebolt! They haven't won since 1892!" An older Auror piped in, causing the Quidditch-loving witches and wizards around the office to indulge in fits of incessant chortling.

Before James left the Ministry, he discarded his business robes and stuffed them into his briefcase. Wearing a formal pair of dress pants and a white-collared shirt that'd been slightly buttoned down, he crossed the street outside of the Ministry and headed toward his downtown flat.

James noticed some dumb bloke had parked his moving van right in front of his apartment complex entrance. Annoyed, he squeezed through the building's front door and headed up the stairs to his flat.

CLUNK!

Lily Evans dropped two bulky duffel bags onto the hard wood floor, surveying the new apartment she and Roxanne would temporarily be calling home. Roxanne entered behind her; she locked the door, soundproofed the room with the Imperturbable Charm, and collapsed onto the soft, melancholy couch in the middle of the apartment.

"Remind me to never take that goddamn purple bus again," Roxanne groaned loudly, closing her eyes as her stomach flip-flopped due to her jarring trip on the Knight Bus.

"At least Stan Shunpike didn't hit on you!" Lily rejoined, screwing up her face in repulsion as she entered their makeshift kitchen and put a black kettle on. "I told you we should have traveled the muggle way."

"We hadn't the money for a train ticket," Roxanne grunted, hiding her face in a pillow and pulling a ragged throw up to her chin.

"We just robbed a bank, Roxanne."

"Shut up."

Lily meandered over to the living room's old-fashioned gas stove and ignited the gas flame with the Flagrate spell. Shuffling through the kitchen cupboards, Lily plucked out a rusty pot and filled it with water and a can of soup. After heating it up, she brought the soup over to Roxanne, hoping to ease her stomach.

"Thanks."

"Where did you put the LeBrun cash?" Lily asked, poking a log in the musty fireplace and taking a seat on the shag carpet laid out in front of it.

"I've already set up an account for each of us at Gringotts. I created it a week before we robbed the French bank, and just deposited 50,000 galleons into each account. The other 15 million galleons are housed in Berlin...some bank called Die Bank von Berlin."

"Why Germany?" Lily queried. She knew Roxanne had acted correctly, as it wasn't safe to deposit more then 50,000 galleons in Gringotts. After all, how would two witches—one of them a muggleborn—procure 15 million galleons between them? It was far too suspicious.

"They don't ask questions in Germany," Roxanne replied, knowing the bank would be only too pleased to hold onto such a large sum of money.

As soon as Roxanne and Lily had escaped from La banque de sorcellerie française, they had packed their things and headed for London. It wasn't safe to stay in Paris in case French Aurors picked up their scent and discovered their old apartment. Now they would have nothing—and no one—to find there.

"Ave you piffed up yer key frob the landlord yet?" Roxanne managed, her voice muffled by a frilly pillow.

"No, I haven't picked up my key," Lily replied, raising an unimpressed brow at her friend. "I suppose I'll get it now then."

Lily exited the apartment and walked down the quiet corridor toward the stairwell. She hoped the rather chubby wizard claiming to be her landlord was not in the middle of supper. Just as she reached the top of the landing, she noticed a gorgeous man climbing the stairs toward her. Distracted by his allure, she continued forward, the heel of her pump subsequently sinking into a crevice between two wooden planks, causing her to lose her balance and topple forward. She screamed in alarm, her head thudding against a jagged step before everything went black.

"Merlin!" James Potter exclaimed, hearing the ruckus above and hurrying up the stairs toward the fallen woman. He found the pretty redhead lying unconscious on the second floor landing, blood trickling from her head. He discarded his briefcase and dropped down to his knees, propping the woman's head up against his shoulder.

"Episkey!" James he muttered softly, immediately healing the cut on her forehead. He tried to awaken the woman, but to no avail. Though he had the option of calling a muggle ambulance or getting help, he instead scooped her up into his arms and carried her into the safety of his apartment.

Roxanne heard a light tapping on one of the apartment's windows. Begrudgingly hauling herself off of the couch, she opened the window and let a brown speckled owl fly in. He dropped a letter at her feet.

Dear Roxanne,

I'm so glad you're back in town, especially because I'll be having the baby soon! How is your apartment? You must tell me all about your adventures when I can come by to see it.

I remember you telling me you were looking for a job, and seeing as I am now on maternity leave, my boss, Mr. Potter, is looking for a new secretary. I told him all about you and he is willing to meet you for an interview tomorrow morning at his office, which is in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. If you're interested, meet him at eight o'clock sharp (he hates it when people are late)!

With love,

Miranda

Roxanne crumpled up the letter and threw it into the fire, a smug smile playing on her lips. It was too good to be true. She was going to nail the interview and get a job in Britain'sMagical Law Enforcement Department, with administrative access to confidential files and access to the inner workings of the Auror Office.

"Here we come, Gringotts."

»-(¯v´¯)-» AUTHOR'S NOTES»-(¯v´¯)-»

I hope everybody enjoyed this chapter! I was quite excited to post this story; the plot has been brewing in my mind for some time. There is loads of Marauder foolishness, awkward situations, calculating schemes and romance to come! Please review!

-pratty prongs princesse