Unofficial Portkey Archive

Luna was scavenging through the large bag she brought. Ron was casually looking over her shoulder.

"I know I brought it with me, where is that silly thing?" she complained.

She kept pulling things out and tossing them back in with some exasperation. She pulled out a long, wicked looking knife groaned and threw that back in as well.

Ron sucked in a deep breath, "Hey now! I thought you said you were kidding about that bloody knife thing?!"

"Oh, Ron I was kidding about sacrificing you with it. I wasn't kidding about bringing it."

"Well, then what's it for?" he asked suspiciously.

"It's a key; a very special key. It will open the door for us. You'll see when we get there."

"So, where is it that we're going exactly?"

Luna stopped digging through the bag and looked up at Ron and said, "It's an old druidic tomb out in the country. It's pretty easy to get to, but the entrance is mostly rubble. The place doesn't look like much, so people pretty much just ignore it. Father says that there is a very special stone sepulcher inside. If you have the right key, then when you open it, you can speak to the dead. Its how the ministry of magic found out that the World Quidditch Cup was rigged by the ghosts at Beauxbatons."

"Excuse me? What on earth… Luna the Quidditch Cup was not rigged by anyone, especially a bunch of ghosts at a school in the south of France."

"Uh, huh, that's what they'd like you to think; now isn't it?" Luna replied mysteriously.

"Oh, Luna, at least tell me the tomb is real."

"Of course it is. Where do you think we're going?"

"Completely batty… that's where we're going," Ron muttered under his breath.

Ron thought for a moment, "Wait a minute. Druidic tomb? So what, we're going to Ireland?"

"Mmm, hmmm. There's a garden in back of my father's offices. Almost all of the decorations are portkeys. One of them will take us quite close to the tomb. My father had it setup when he started researching the story."

Ron looked squarely at her for a long time. He stared for so long that Luna started to get fidgety.

"What? What are you staring like that for?"

"Luna. Please tell me this is the real thing. Please tell me that this isn't some crazy story your dad made up. I'm here because I believe, that you believe, there's a way we can get in touch with Harry and Hermione. If you drag me out there and it doesn't work. I'll… I'll really be disappointed in you."

Luna bit her bottom lip so hard that she bruised it. She began to flutter her hands in a nervous and distraught way.

"Ronald Weasley, I swear that I believe this will get us in touch with them. I would never, ever do anything to hurt you or lie to you on purpose. Please believe me. Actually, more than that, please believe 'in' me."

Ron looked a bit shaken and replied carefully, "Alright Luna. I… I believe in you. I'm not fully convinced this is going to work, but if you believe in it… then I'll trust you enough to follow you."

Luna looked down at her feet and then back up again and replied, "Okay. I'll accept that. I know it's hard to believe in things you can't see or feel, but my father has never lied to me. If he says it will work, then it will work."

The two of them ended up in the garden while they were talking. Luna looked around and pointed out a little ceramic pot. It had a small plaque underneath it that said:

Ireland's Premier Summer Attraction!

Ron stared at the inscription and realized the pathetic irony of calling an old abandoned tomb, that was most likely nothing but a pile of rocks any kind of attraction. His hope of this turning out in their favor was beginning to quickly fade. When he turned to look at Luna's face he saw a thoughtful stare there. He wondered what she was thinking. Ron reached his hand out and touched her gently on her back. For a reason he could not explain, he drew a line down her back, following the contour of her spine. When he reached the small of her back he slipped his hand under her shirt and touched her skin there. It was smooth and felt warm. He then traced his finger, up alone her spine, this time feeling her, instead of her shirt.

He then pulled his hand out and took a step back. He was in a state of shock that he would be so bold, to touch her like that. He realized how stupid it was and that if she took it wrong then he could have seriously jeopardized their friendship; or whatever it was that they shared.

"I'm sorry Luna. I shouldn't have done that without asking. I'm not exactly sure why I did it. I just… oh, I have no idea… I guess I just wanted to. Sorry."

Luna looked straight down at the ground and whispered, "Do you want to do that on the other side?"

"The other side? … I don't follow you… oh…" Ron's breathing became quick and erratic. "I… I think I do… yes. Is it okay that I want to?"

Luna took his hand and held it close to her cheek.

"Yes, it's okay. Just… just don't be cruel to me, Ron. Don't start this with me and then go back to treating me like Loony Lovegood when we're back at school. I couldn't go through that with you. It would hurt too…"

Ron pressed himself against her and cut her off with a kiss. He lingered there for a long time and then realized she was lowering his hand to her stomach. He felt a little dizzy and a little excited. Most of all he felt that everything was okay.

Luna and Ron kissed for a long time. They touched each other tenderly and then lay down in the green grass and made love under the open sky. It was awkward and they made so many mistakes that they laughed a lot and felt silly, but it was something real and meaningful. In the end, Ron felt like he was reaching out and touching heaven.

--- ---

Harry decided it was time to leave the room. He had been wasting too much time here. He needed to understand more about where he was and what was going to happen to him. Knowing the beast was not out there waiting for him, gave him the courage to face the unknown a little more. However, he had a new fear and her name was Angelia. She was a twisted thing that could read his mind. She would play him like a master musician plays there instrument. She would be subtle and very capable. He would always be on the lookout. Always mistrust whatever was in front of him. If he ever saw her in the form of Hermione again, he decided then and there he would refuse to listen to anything she had to say. He would run away from her and keep running, until he found a place she could never find him.

He held out his wand, feeling a deep need to use a bit of magic. Though, there was a lingering fear that it would not work here. He hesitated and then with a flick of the wand he began with one of the spells that came easiest to him.

"Lumos," he said barely audible.

As if responding to the quietness in his voice the tip of the wand began with a small glow and gave off only a small degree of light. He said it again, this time with strength in his voice. Then, on queue, the wand lit up as bright as if he were standing in the main hall back at Hogwarts. He had not lost his touch, nor his ability to use the things he had learned over the last few years. The question is, how strong would the magic be against demons?

Harry opened the door and walked out into the hallway beyond. He had found a bit of courage left in himself after all. He stepped carefully at first, but with each one he took the more sure of himself he became. With the hall now fully lit he began to explore. Almost immediately he realized that the hallway was full of twists and turns and had many branches. In his panic, he had not realized that it was so convoluted. It was nothing more than blind luck that he had found that open doorway when he did. At least, that was what he reasoned out.

His footsteps seemed so loud to him. He knew there had to be someone or something that knew he was wandering around. The question remained how long before he was confronted with the next horror waiting for him, hidden in the darkness. The unknown was his worst enemy here. He could not let himself forget that.

While walking he would catch one of the myriad of doors that were partially open. He could feel eyes upon him, but when he turned to look the door would suddenly find itself quickly closed. There would be no friends for Harry Potter in this accursed place.

"Hey you… wanna see something?"

Harry looked up and saw a small boy standing in one of the doorways. He knew that this was not a place that children would be, so whatever this boy was, it was no child.

"No. No, thank you," Harry replied.

"I think you'll wanna see this," the boy called out in a sing-song voice.

With that the boy took a step backwards into the room he was poking his head out of. Harry looked and saw a mirror in the room. It was very large. It took up most of the room and left very little otherwise. The boy motioned Harry inside. Against his better judgment he stepped in.

"This mirror will show you the truth," the boy said with a reverent awe. "If you look inside it, you will see the world you have created by your actions. Look and see."

Harry's eyes were drawn to it. A yellowish light flashed inside the mirror and a scene appeared. He heard a strange repetitive soft grunting coming from it. After hearing it a second he realized what it was and became embarrassed. It was someone having sex, from what he guessed.

"Wow, isn't she your friend?" the boy asked innocently.

Harry looked and saw Hermione. She was in bed with someone. He tried to swallow, but he could not. He wanted to turn away, but he needed to know who she was with. A face from the darkness turned and looked at Harry. It was Sirius Black. He grinned at Harry with an evil smirk and turned back to Hermione.

"Awww, look she found a new friend. Isn't that nice?" the boy said ever so sweetly.

Harry turned and tried to run out of the room, but in his suffocating panic he ran into the edge of the door and his vision became distorted. Pain shot through his head. With his eyes still swimming, he got his bearings and ran out into the twisted hallway. When he got out he took a deep breath in, but the air tasted like dust and death. He felt a violent wretching in his gut and he began to vomit. There was nothing to come up, so he fell to the ground and dry heaved for a long, long time. When it stopped he stood up warily and he began to cry. He started to run as fast as he could.

He stopped paying attention to where he was going. As hard as he tried, he could not shake the horrible image from his mind. The ultimate betrayal, beyond any word and deed. Hermione was just a girl.

"It was rape!" Harry spat.

He told himself that to avoid dealing with the look on Hermione's face. One of contented pleasure. Images of her dead staring eyes came to his mind and then would become superimposed on the vision from the mirror. He kept running.

He ran and ran, until everything looked different. The hallways no longer had little wooden doors wrapped with iron bands. Now the hallways were much straighter and the doors much larger. Some were ornately carved stone and others were thick, red mahogany with stained glass. The windows were sometimes just random shapes, but when he stared at them they had images of terror and darkness in them. Light was coming through them, but instead of spraying out colors they spewed forth cold shadows and horrifying patterns.

Still running he was shocked to run across the last thing he had expected. He had found a large garden. He stopped and stared for a moment. There was a garden hidden deep inside this evil place? Though the garden was at first hideous to behold. There were garden statues of winged demons and dark cloaked figures. The flowers though blooming all had petals of violent and black. He saw a dark iron bench nestled near the center. He walked over and sat down in it. He felt tired and weak. He must have run a long way, but he had no idea of how far. After a moment the garden did not seem so bad. It felt like a sort of quiet sanctuary, or perhaps a quiet tomb. At least it seemed like the kind of place that no one here would ever go to.

Harry sat there and dwelt on the burning hate he felt for Sirius. He also felt dark feelings towards Hermione. He hated them for being together like that. He started to cry again, realizing that even more than that he hated that they had found each other and were not alone like he was. Sirius should be here helping him find a way out of this mess. Hermione should be here being his friend. He needed them both and they were out somewhere doing things that caused an awful and painful hole to open up in his heart. He sat there filling that desolate hole with pain and guilt.

In his tears he moaned, "This is what murders get… this is what we deserve. Every day I am still sane is another day of torture. I want to lose my sanity! I want to lose myself in the darkness and never see anything or anyone… ever… AGAIN!"

With the last, he took his fist and hit his head. Then he did it again. Then again. He hit himself and it hurt. The pain felt good, because it helped him forget the images burned deep into his soul.

He stood up and hit himself so hard that he began to bruise.

"You want to see something?!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, "Do you?! Watch this… WATCH THIS!!"

Way beyond the edge of hysteria he lifted his wand and pointed it at himself and then he cried out, "CRUCIO!"

He unleashed everything he had in him when he cast it. The pain was so violent that he fell to the ground unable to move. A scream escaped his lips and he let himself become enveloped in the pain. When he had enough control of his arm he lifted it again.

"CRUCIO!"

This time the pain was so great that when it subsided enough to let his muscles unclench he passed out there in that dark garden. Alone in his pain. Alone in his sorrow. Alone like he had been for so many years before Hagrid had come to take him away. This was what his future held for him. Terrible, horrible lonliness. These thoughts were the last he had before everything turned black.

--- ---

A ways off in the darkness stood a beautiful demoness. She stood just out of sight on the other edge of the garden. She had heard someone intrude on her place of solitude. Angry at first she turned to deal with whomever was foolish enough to come here. Then she saw that it was him. Her new victim had come to play she thought.

She stopped and watched to see what he would do. She had been told what the other demons had planned for him. She did not reply when Necris the Lost One had reveled in the pain he had inflicted upon Harry when he showed him the false vision. Necris took this as a sign she was pleased and so left her laughing in his evil little way. She found, unlike so many before Harry, that she did not lovingly dwell on the pain that had been caused. Instead, she found she felt nothing at all. She was confused at this and came here to reach inside herself and find what had changed. It was not that she had any feeling one way or another on this new victim's fate. She just simply felt no joy at his suffering. Then as if an answer to her questions he had appeared.

There in the center of this hidden place, he stood and cried out in mortal agony. He had used his own powers against himself to inflict his own suffering. She had never seen this before in all of her centuries. The victims always waited in abject fear of when pain was to be born on their bodies, by their captors. This one, this Harry, was causing his own pain. She had become quite an expert on the weakness of humanity. Reading the depraved minds of these wicked souls had taught her much. She searched for a word to describe what Harry was going through. After a moment, she settled on what she thought it might be… grieving. He was grieving the loss of those he has left behind. Few of the humans here ever truly grieved. They wallowed in superficial guilt, and rage, and anguish, and fear, and hatred, and all the other emotions that humans carried inside their evil hearts.

This boy felt true remorse and grieved for the damage he had done. She began to wonder if he had been sent to the right place. Why was he here? She wanted very much to break his will down and force him to surrender his soul to her. She wanted to study it and learn from it. She wanted to understand these new emotions that she felt coursing through his insides. It was a gift to be able to read minds, but sometimes a burden at best. Now, it was something altogether different. It was… enlightening.

"I wonder what his flesh tastes like?" she thought. Maybe the marrow in his bones would taste sweeter than the others.

--- ---

Hermione had closed her eyes tightly as she began falling through the sky. She reminded herself that she could not die again, but she began to wonder what it was going to feel like when the fall ended and came to a very abrupt halt at the end. She held the sword that she had called to her, tightly to her chest with one arm. The other was flailing madly and she could not seem to find the ability to stop it from flapping in the wind. Her legs were doing much the same.

She finally got the courage up to open her eyes and turn her head downwards. She looked and saw a very large island rapidly approaching. She looked at it carefully and then her eyes opened wide as a realization occurred.

"Look! It's Ireland! It looks just like a map from up here," she called out.

However, the closer she got, the less it looked like a map and the more it looked like ground coming up to meet her very rapidly. She closed her eyes and winced. Suddenly, she stopped falling. Everything was very, very dark. It was a bit cold as well. She was lying down as near she could tell. When she tried to move around there was not much room. She was on cold stone. When she felt around with her hands she realized that she was surrounded on all sides by the same cold stone. She tried to fathom where she might be. Just in case she touched her wrist and then her neck, but there was still no pulse. She was still dead, but she could swear that she felt like she was back where she used to be. It was strange, because she was there, but not quite; like she was somehow out of phase with the world around her. It felt strange and a bit disconcerting.

She heard a voice coming from outside of wherever she was…

"Are you sure this is where it is?"

"Of course I am. My father's notes show this is the one. See! Look a stone coffin right there. Go, uh, go open it."

"What?! I'm not big on opening coffins up. Plus, there might be spiders in it."

Hermione thought for a moment and decided that she recognized the voices, but she was sure she was mistaken.

The male voice said, "Oh, alright. I'll open the stupid thing."

There was the sound of loud grunting and panting.

"This thing is really heavy!"

The female voice replied, "Here, let's push together."

Suddenly, there was a light peeking in through the edge of her small prison. The sound of stone grating on stone was very loud in her ears. After a moment of hearing two people straining, she could suddenly see two faces peering down at her.

"RON! … LUNA!! … RON!!! … LUNA!!!!" Hermione kept yelling excitedly.

The red haired young man sighed. "Damn. The stupid thing is completely empty."