Chapter 7: Journey to the Mansion
Harry and Hermione slept poorly that night underneath the protection of a rather large sycamore tree. Hermione had dozed off to Harry's elaborate stories of Quidditch wrapped in his arms. Although Harry knew he should not get attached to this Hermione, nor should she get attached to him, he just couldn't resist.
Hermione was the first to wake up. "Harry," she murmured, elbowing him slightly, "Wake up." Harry muttered something incoherent; his only desire being right then was to fall back into the comforting embrace of sleep.
"Get up," Hermione repeated more loudly. "We have to walk some distance to get there and you need to get there early to check it out, right?" Harry had agreed, but still was not happy about it and moodily sat up, yawning. "For breakfast we have bread, bananas, and a bottle of water," said Hermione, pulling things out of the basket she had brought along and handing them to him. They began to eat as the sky began to lighten with the approaching dawn.
Once they finished the small meal, they started making their way through the thick forest (the mansion lay isolated from any nearby towns or roads - Harry felt certain it had to be a Death Eater's home given the location) Harry's legs and back began to ache from three nights of hard travel and poor sleeping conditions.
"Why don't we just fly there?" suggested Harry, tripping once again over a heavy tree root.
"No, we don't want to be stopped do we?," said Hermione matter-of-factly. "And besides, brooms are very uncomfortable. Maybe that is why I didn't like them in your world, as you told me."
"You didn't care for it," corrected Harry irritably. She was making him miss the old Hermione . . . the one that always pestered him and Ron to create study schedules and to do their homework, the one that absolutely hated nicknames, and the one that had always, always been there for him and stood by his side no matter what. Then he wondered if missing the person that was right next to him made sense. But they aren't the same person, Harry reminded himself. They are two different Hermiones.
"How do you know that?" pestered Hermione.
"You've only said it about million times."
"Oh." Then they both fell silent. "Technically, Harry, I actually didn't say that I didn't care for Quidditch," Hermione observed after a few moments. "So you really can't say that."
"Alright," Harry said shortly.
"Then, lets ride the Firebolt there."
"But you said - "
"I've changed my mind, Harry. I've realized that you've got to take chances in life, and since this is probably the most exciting and worthwhile thing I've done in my whole entire organized and boring life, we should try to take advantage of it." Harry didn't need any more convincing, so he quickly mounted the broom. Hermione got on behind him, strapped the food basket on, and then put her arms around Harry as he pushed off into the air just enough to clear the ground and started through the wood.
"What are you doing?"
"Er - flying . . ."
"Harry, we are in the middle of the forest. Who cares if anyone sees us? And besides, people saw us flying out of my town."
"Oh no - "
"Don't worry about it, Harry, you're going to be gone by today! Just fly above the trees!" Hermione shouted. Harry obeyed and soon enough they were soaring with the birds. Harry closed his eyes and breathed the fresh air.
They did not have to travel for long before coming across the grand park that surrounded the large mansion. It was sitting in the middle of an enormous landscaped area with beautiful maple trees on the lawn and a rather large swimming pool in the back. Harry almost fell off his broom when he passed the iron gate and read `MALFOY' etched across it.
"Is something the matter?" asked Hermione, who must have felt Harry's uneasiness.
"Yeah . . . yeah . . . this place is Draco Malfoy's . . ."
"Who is he?"
"Someone I knew from school . . ." Harry muttered, not wanting to explain the rather peculiar relationship with him and Malfoy. Hermione, sensing the awkwardness, did not persist with the subject.
"Where should we land?" asked Harry quickly.
"Over there and get out of plain sight or else someone might see you!" hissed Hermione. Harry immediately flew towards Hermione's finger, which was pointing to a clump of bushes about a quarter of a mile from the mansion. They landed abruptly and instantaneously Hermione had pulled Harry down to the ground.
"Now we have to be stealthy, Harry," she whispered. "We can't go charging in and demanding the Time Turner."
"I know that," snarled Harry.
"Just making sure." She peered over the over the bushes. "Alright, the best way to get in would be the back way, because there would be less likely a chance you would be seen by anyone. We don't know if they are home or not, but we can't take any chances; so you need be as quiet as you can once you get in the house. Ifsomeone sees you, then get the hell out of there as fast as you can. I'll be ready if you come dashing out and we'll fly away together, so no harm will be done. But if you are seenand can't escape, you're going to have to duel."
"I know . . . I'll be ready for it."
"Right. There will be no way to know if you got the Time Turner or not because you're going to use it right after you find it," said Hermione, more telling him to do that instead of just stating it, "so I'll just stay here until it gets dark. Then I'll leave to go home."
"No, Hermione, I don't think you should wait up for me - it's dangerous enough that you came, let alone staying here - "
"Harry, stop it. I'm staying here whether or not you like it," Hermione informed him stubbornly.
"Fine but promise me you'll leave once it gets dark or if someone spots you."
"I promise. Good luck." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
"Thank you for everything, Hermione. I hope to see you soon, the way I know you," Harry said, touching her cheek. "Hermione the witch." A tear escaped her eye and rolled down her cheek as she smiled sadly.
"Me too," Hermione whispered. Harry slid his finger down her soft, slightly wet cheek before turning away and without looking back, sprinted to the side of the house. Leaning his back against it and hoping that no one saw him run up to it, he edged to the back wall and was out of sight for Hermione. He continued along the back wall until he reached the door. Praying with all his might that the Malfoys were were not home, he was disappointed that the obvious signs showed that they were, in fact, home. Harry's mind was filled with visions of what they would do to him if he was caught.
He was at the door sooner then he thought. Shaking slightly, he laid his hand on the doorknob and twisted it carefully. Then he pulled it open just enough so he could peer through a little crack. Harry could see that behind the door was a long corridor, furbished luxuriously with royal red carpet and gold-framed paintings. Since the corridor was empty, Harry gingerly opened the door so he could slide in silently, and then closed it softly.
He stood still listening for a long time, intent for the slightest sound of movement or voices or anything to indicate where anyone might be in the house. But he heard nothing. Harry was perplexed - either they knew of his presence and were waiting for the perfect time to strike or they weren't home. Yet Harry thought that it would be simply too easy for him for them not to be home, and things in life never came easy for him.
Thinking that he should get a move on and stop mulling, he tiptoed down the hallway until he saw mahogany double door. His hand shot out and was about to touch it when -
"MALFOY!"
Harry jumped and slammed his back against the wall, breathing hard. Okay, so someone was home. He stayed absolutely quiet, waiting to see what would happen and who had just shouted that.
"Yes, Master?" answered another voice. Harry heard footsteps from the floor above and then heard them going down steps close by to where Harry stood. "How may I help you today?" Harry suddenly realized the cold voice as Lucius Malfoy's, and that the other must be . . . Lord Voldemort's. They were both in the room Harry had been about to enter.
Why, Neville, why? thought Harry disgustedly. He was going to have to face Voldemort again if he didn't get out of this predicament and find the Time Turner fast. But how could he? The Time Turner could be a million places in the mansion - it was like looking for a needle in a haystack. But then he thought of Hermione - how beautiful she was; how lovely - and became determined. He wanted to see the Witch Hermione so much - it was not fair for Neville to do this. Oh, how Neville was going to pay once Harry was back. If Harry got back.
"I have a task for you, Malfoy." Lord Voldemort's high, cruel voice echoed in what was presumably the Entrance Hall. "Let's go into your office to discuss it." The sound of footsteps retreated back up the stairs relieved Harry's anxiety that they might discovered him where he stood. Harry waited in case they came back down, but when he did not hear any more movement through the door, he pushed it open slowly to reveal a large entrance hall with marble floors and white walls. A grand staircase sat in the middle of it. Slightly apprehensive, Harry climbed the staircase.
He took the left corridor because in the right one there was door at the far end with a light on, and Harry was almost sure that Voldemort and Lucius were in it. But what if the Time Turner was in there? Harry thought. I might as well check around anyway . . .
Continuing down the long corridor, Harry chose the first door on the left to open first. Without being cautious he swung it open and heard a tremendous gasp.
"What the hell are you doing here!" yelled Draco Malfoy, who was lying in a luxurious four-poster bed. Harry gasped too. He could not make his feet move; it was as if he was glued to the carpet. "I said, Potter, what the hell are you doing here!" Draco repeated. Harry assumed from Draco's voice that they were enemies in this world, too, and Harry wasn't surprised, rather relieved actually that some things did stay the same despite Neville's blunder.
"Draco, what are you shouting about?" called Lucius Malfoy from down the hallway.
"FATHER! FATHER! HARRY POTTER IS HERE!" yelled Draco angrily, scrambling out of bed and pointing at Harry furiously. Clearly, Harry was not liked. If Harry hadn't been extremely stunned right then and frantically racking his brain for ways to get out of this situation, he would have been amused at what Draco was wearing: satin blue pajamas with lace cuffs. A second after Draco had said that, though, Harry heard a scuffle down the corridor and the bang of a door.
Quickly Harry dodged down the opposite end of the corridor. "STUPEFY!" roared Lucius. Harry ducked and saw a red flash of light pass over his head, missing him by a mere few inches.
"You didn't get him, Malfoy, let me try," Lord Voldemort instructed Lucius calmly. But Harry was ready this time.
"STUPEFY!" he shouted, whipping his wand out of his pocket, swinging around and pointing it at a cloaked figure he knew as Lord Voldemort all in one motion. Unsurprisingly Lord Voldemort deflected the spell and Lucius Malfoy came after him.
"What the hell do you think you're doing in the Malfoy Mansion!" he snarled. Draco Malfoy's pale pointed face poked out from his bedroom door to watch the entertainment. "I don't want a filthy Potter stinking up the place!"
Harry knew he had to get to the room where they had just come from, and this was his only chance. Lucius Malfoy charged at him with Lord Voldemort not far behind. They were halfway down the corridor when Harry finally did something.
"STUPEFY! STUPEFY! STUPEFY!" He didn't know what else to do but keep on repeating the spell and hoping that it would hit one, if not both. He slammed his eyes shut and kept on shouting it, his wand pointing outward and preparing for the worst.
"You're done for now, Potter!"
Harry snapped his eyes open to see Lord Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy sprawled on the ground. I did it! He thought. I did it! Now I just have to take care of Malfoy . . .
Disregarding his wand completely, Draco took a swing at him with his fist that hit Harry right on the nose. He moaned and sank to the ground, his hands cupping his swelling nose and the blood that started pouring out of it. But as he did this Harry thought - why isn't Draco at Hogwarts like where he's supposed to be?
A tremendous pain in the left side of his stomach told him that he had just been kicked. Groaning, Harry rolled over and muttered "Petrificus Totalus!" and pointed his wand upwards at Draco's face. He immediately fell to the ground, his arms springing to his side and his legs clapping together. Harry scrambled up, his nose still gushing blood.
Draco was staring at Harry menacingly and with an expression of utter hate that almost scared him. Harry glared down at him and as he did so a few drops of the blood from his nose dripped down and splattered on Draco's forehead. Harry laughed; Draco would not be able to wipe it off for a while.
"So, Malfoy, tell me, why aren't you at Hogwarts?" said Harry, with an urge to kick Malfoy in the side as he had done to him, but rested on the fact that he didn't want to sink as low as his enemies. Malfoy avoided eye contact and looked away; it was clear the subject was uncomfortable to him. Suddenly Harry spotted the edge of what looked like a black tattoo that wasn't covered by the short-sleeved silk pajamas. He lifted the sleeve up and Malfoy's eyes snapped to Harry. Quickly he tried to jump away but Harry had already seen it: the Dark Mark. Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater. Comprehension on why Malfoy was not at Hogwarts suddenly dawned on Harry.
Revolted, Harry got up and walked down the corridor to the last door where Lucius Malfoy and Lord Voldemort had been discussing their plans. He prayed that the Time Turner was in there - if it wasn't, he wouldn't know where else to look, because time was running out and it could be anywhere in the enormous mansion, especially in hidden places like under loose floorboards or behind bookshelves. However, to his unbelievable luck, the Time Turner was laying on Lucius' oak desk unharmed and untouched.
"Yes," exclaimed Harry, moving forward to pick it up. It was more fancy then the one Hermione had owned in their third year; the edges gleamed gold and the sand inside sparkled white. For a moment, he was mesmerized by it, but then shook his head and put it around his neck. He turned it sixteen times for sixteen years, but even as he was doing this he thought of Aubrianna, his mother, and his father - about how he loved having a family; how he loved spending his Christmas with them in a house full of love. But he could not stay with them even though it pained him so much to come to this conclusion. The wizarding world needed him - they couldn't have Voldemort reining their world and destroying it so there were no Muggleborns like Hermione allowed and even half-bloods were persecuted.
When he turned it for the sixteenth time and final time and everything started to swirl in a wheel of color, he knew that he was doing the right thing. Goodbye Mum, Dad. I'm sorry, Bri…