HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATH OF THE OLD RULE
(WARNING: THIS IS A PRE-HBP STORY … THE READER MUST NOT TAKE INTO ACCOUNT THE NEW DEVELOPMENTS OF HBP TO APPRECIATE THE STORY.)
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.</i>
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AUTHOR'S NOTE:
This one's been long in coming, and I apologize! I had to shift some priorities in the last few months, and found myself with very little time to pursue this endeavour. I also must admit that after reading HBP, I found myself somewhat saddened… If it had been me, I would have kept some suspense for the last book in regards to the ships. Oh well! But I'm back now, to finish this story, I'm hoping sooner than later!
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CHAPTER 15
DRACO'S REDEMPTION
It was cold, dark and damp as Hermione looked up to the path ahead of her. Despite the reassuring fact that their team was well honed, and had seen battle before - Harry was leading, and most of their group had been involved either with the DA a few years back, or the most recent events - it was still a highly dangerous mission. The mostly frightening thing was the unfamiliarity of the terrain. They had been walking for days now, and had reached the famed mountains of Serbia, where they would be continuing their mission for at least another week or so. The incessant cloud cover kept the forest in darkness, or semi-light at best; the thick humidity made you sweat quickly, even though it was treacherously cold at these altitudes. For sure, it wasn't a journey for the faint-hearted.
Hermione's team had been sent on the lead mission right after that spring evening at Hogwart's. They were following Draco Malfoy, who had very imprudently emerged from hiding following his last encounter with Hermione. He had been spotted by informants throughout a journey that had led him to these very mountains, and since he had left a pool of his blood in Hagrid's cabin, Dumbledore had been able to concoct a complex charm that allowed for his location to be plotted on a map of the country - a more advanced version, of sorts, of the Marauder's map that had been so useful to Harry and his friends during their school days. Draco, not the most talented of wizards, had failed to protect himself from such charms, and so far the team had had no difficulty following him from a distance.
Hermione smiled as she walked, thinking of the genius that resided in Dumbledore. In an era when science was working to develop sophisticated GPS devices that could still fail or break down, a well-performed charm could prove so much more effective.
She squinted, trying hard to locate Ron, who was walking ahead of her. They were keeping about ten meters between each other in order to have manoeuvering room to react if they were surprised by an attack. She finally spotted the red hair between two trees, about twelve meters above her on the path.
"I'm slowing down, come on!" she muttered to herself, trying to ignore the pain in her calves and thighs. They had been walking for hours, and Harry had insisted on not stopping before they could profit from cover of night fall to take a much-needed rest - but that was still two hours away.
She picked up the pace somewhat, and within a few minutes was back within the prescribed distance.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she caught up with Ron who had turned and started climbing a steep incline, littered with huge rocks and boulder, towards a dark, cave-like enclosure carved directly at the base of a rock wall. That face of the mountain had to be at least five hundred meter high, and was crowned at its top by more forest. It was a place where they could spend the night safely, and situated in such a way that a vigil posted near the entrance of the cave could see anyone coming from at least fifty meters.
Hermione reached the cave, panting and sweating profusely under her thick mountain jacket.
Ron extended his hand to help her up the last boulder of rock. "Tired, are you?" He laughed, himself showing signs of exhaustion.
"Yeah," she replied, out of breath and leaning both hands on her knees, trying to breathe properly. "The leader of this team is a maniac, I tell you!" As she said it with a smile, Harry emerged from the cave.
She looked up at him, smiling. "You're crazy, Harry Potter! You're going to kill us before we even have a chance to snuff it at the hand of dark wizards …"
He winked at her, and gave her a warm hug and a kiss after Ron had let go of her hand. "I know, I know. I'm tired myself … but I want to put all the odds in our favour. Making stops in these forests is reputedly dangerous, ask the locals!"
"By locals, you mean … trolls? Giants? Werewolves, perhaps?" Hermione laughed heartily, well aware of the mountains' sinister reputation.
Harry buried his face in her hair, and she shivered at the warmth of his breath near her ear.
He whispered, answering her question. "Yeah, something like that! But more seriously, I wouldn't want you to fall in the wrong hands …"
She suddenly drew back, and looked at him with a grave look on her face. "But Harry! You've put me as the rear guard! How safe is that, then?"
Harry smirked. "Well, a study of the path we're following shows that the best way to ambush someone is to attack the lead, or the flanks - anything coming from the rear is too easy to spot or hear. So in fact, I've put you at the safest place!"
Ginny suddenly emerged from the cave's entrance, already impossible to spot with the coming nightfall.
"Come on, guys! We're hungry in here, and we need all of you in before we start a fire!"
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The glacial wind swept the thick, bushy mane of brown hair of the vigil sitting on top of a huge boulder, slightly to the right of the cave's entrance. It was an ideal watching post: from it, she could see at least fifty meters down, and the rock face seemed to absorb and cast sufficient `natural' light, even in sheer darkness, to permit sighting clearly if someone - or something - was trying to make its way up to their refuge.
Hermione had insisted on taking a turn at the watch post, despite Harry's vehement protests that she stay safely inside with the others. She had been at it for nearly three hours now, and had enjoyed it. But now, she was starting to get cold, and her body was fighting the shivers that kept running up and down her spine.
The truth was she had wanted to be by herself to think. She hadn't really been able to sleep in days, increasingly obsessed by Dumbledore had said a few months back about her being some kind of "chosen one".
Dumbledore had revealed, as he had explained the Old Rule to them, that a part of the rule prophesied that one Muggle-born wizard, born of the 1000th generation following the actual writing of it, would manage to bring forth a relationship of love so strong that it would insure the survival of the Rule for a very long time afterwards … And by way of consequence, the Wizarding World would continue to be safe and would remain in existence. Dumbledore had then explained that he had thought, for the longest time, that this person had been Lily Potter - whose love for her son, Harry, had been so strong that it had managed to stomp Voldemort himself.
However, Dumbledore had continued by saying he had now become convinced that she -Hermione Granger - was the one that came closest, so far, to fulfilling the prophecy.
"But how in the world could my love for Harry change the world? It's so … complicated."
Hermione mused out loud, weighing the exact meaning of the whole thing. When Dumbledore had broached the subject, she had been going through a lot of emotions simultaneously and had been recovering from severe injuries; hence, she hadn't given the subject much thought at the time. But since they had left for this journey, and this dangerous assignment, she couldn't stop thinking about it.
"The chosen one … Yeah, I've been chosen this year, for sure!" she said sarcastically, with rising anger in her heart.
She sighed heavily, and suddenly felt the tremendous weight of the burden on her shoulders. Since the previous summer, she had been at the heart of a war directed towards Muggle-borns. And so far, the people that she cared about had suffered, and died. Her parents had been killed … Viktor Krum had been savagely murdered … Neville Longbottom had given his life to save her … Even Ginny, her best girl-friend, had been severely injured, barely escaping with her life. She herself had been captured and beaten, and then attacked in her own home at Hogwarts. And now, it seemed the only logical target to go after - besides her - was Harry himself.
She felt new tears of despair well up inside her. She felt weary, sad and exhausted, and yet she knew she couldn't afford to fall apart. But a deep fear, a profound source of worry, was constantly with her, and she definitely couldn't shake it off.
A simple thought suddenly dawned on her with shattering force.
As puzzling as what Dumbledore had told them that evening, it didn't even start to come close to what was truly troubling her …
In fact, it was very simple. At the heart of her worries was her passionate, but complicated, relationship with their leader - Harry Potter. She routinely grabbed, gently, the pearl necklace that she always wore - a present from Harry, the year before, to apologize for being very hurtful towards her. Ironically, they had disclosed their love towards each other just a few weeks after the incident. She had then said yes to his incredibly romantic marriage proposal, but there was no denying that he scared her, sometimes, with his antics.
She desperately loved him; she had been lovestruck for Harry for seven long years, in secret - but she was increasingly convinced that his luck would somehow run out someday, and that ominous reality terrified her. She often woke up in the middle of the night in cold sweats and wet with tears, unsure whether Harry had died in her nightmare or in real life. And yet, she couldn't imagine herself without having Harry in her life. It was a dilemma that she didn't quite know how to face. Tears streamed down her cheek as she thought of her alternatives - to love him, and risk having her heart ripped apart on the day that he died at the hand of his enemies; or she could take the loss now, and end their relationship - and lose the friend and confidant that had meant more to her so far than anybody else in the whole world.
And now … there was a new problem. She could sense that Ron, although he had been a good sport about her and Harry's relationship it in the beginning, was becoming more and more frustrated and jealous of it. He had become overly - and dangerously - affectionate with her, more than usual, and didn't hesitate to berate Harry about everything and anything in front of her …
She didn't quite know what to do with Ron … She had thought the matter settled, but apparently, it wasn't. Perhaps the urgency of their situation, the life and death nature of their every choice in the last year had made Ron realized his true feelings.
"Poor Ron, I never meant for this to happen!" She cried silently, sad for her friend, and feeling guilty. She had dated Ron during their sixth year of school, convinced it was a more logical choice for her. Ron had been delighted, but she had quickly realized that although she cared deeply for Ron, she didn't really love him.
It had been her first conscious realization that she was in love with Harry Potter, and that it could never be anything else.
She lost herself looking towards the horizon, trying to embrace the majestic beauty of the icy night spectacle. It was eerie. The mountains themselves seemed to produce some kind of diffuse light, which apparently emanated a phosphorus component within the rock itself; it made the entire forest aglow with a faint, greenish hue.
"What's this?" she whispered, her full attention suddenly turning back towards the forest below and a tiny spot of dancing light deep between the trees, about a kilometre from the cave they were staying in.
She reached for the pair of old-fashioned night-vision binoculars that were laid just beside her. She searched for a moment, adjusted her focus, and sighed with relief.
It was a small campfire. She could see moving shadows around it, but she wasn't close enough to make a face.
"Draco is so incredibly stupid," she told herself. "He has no idea anyone is following him."
A voice came from behind her. "Malfoy has always been a git, don't you remember?"
Startled, Hermione turned around and came face to face with Ron.
"Gosh, you scared me a little … I didn't hear you come up the boulder. Please don't do that!"
Ron sat down beside her, very close to her in fact.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. I'm here to relieve you from your sentry duty … So how's my favourite girl doing?"
There was something in Ron's tone that made her blush, but not in a positive way. She was suddenly grateful for the darkness, and for the wind that kept bringing her hair in her face …
She tried to hide her uneasiness by speaking matter-of-factly. "I'm fine, Ron. In fact, you're just in time: I'm starting to get a bit cold, and I think it's time for me to go in. Keep an eye on that spot over there", she said extending her arm and pointing her finger. "I'm pretty sure Draco is over there camping for the night. But we should get going as soon as he leaves …"
She turned back to face Ron, and almost touched his face with her own. There was blazing intensity in his eyes, and he slowly put his arm around her. Hermione froze - she didn't quite know how to react. Closing her eyes, she tried to think as quickly as she could.
She opened her eyes and made to talk, but it was too late.
In an instant everything changed. Ron covered her lips with his, and started to kiss her softly. The kiss itself wasn't unpleasant to Hermione, but she couldn't ignore the wave of anger and hurt that overtook her all at once. She jerked back, pushing him away hard enough that he had to put one hand down to avoid falling off the rock.
"RON! What are you doing? How dare you?!" It was more a reflex than a calculated gesture, but her hand immediately slapped Ron's left cheek. He remained motionless, and stared at her with a hollow look, apparently realizing what he had just done.
Tears were not running down Hermione's cheeks. "I can't believe you did this!"
She tumbled down the boulder as fast as she could, and made her way towards the entrance of the cave, looking over her shoulder to see if Ron was following. But as she turned her head back in the direction where she was headed, she felt herself hitting a wall and had the distinct impression that her head had just exploded. Everything faded and went black around her, and she lost consciousness.
---------------
"So… They're coming here for sure?"
"Yes, Lord, the plan I set in motion is working perfectly … I think Draco may have redeemed himself. Dumbledore is such a fool! He thought I would never detect the localisation charm that he put on Draco … And it would have worked, if Draco hadn't contacted me immediately following after his injury. But when I met with him, I `smelled' the charm on him right away"
Maldemort looked at Karkaroff with disdain. "Ah yes … the injury he suffered at the hand of the Granger girl, on top of all! That boy is a continual disappointment, and -"
Karkaroff interjected. "Don't forget! She is quite an accomplished witch! And also, don't forget her special … `powers'. I would consider her very dangerous actually."
Maldemort smiled faintly. "Do you really believe that fable, Igor? I only have one book in my possession that talks about it, and its author is quite … unreliable, to say the least!" He pointed at a light brown leather-bound book laid open on his work table. Amongst the old, black magic grimoires, it undeniably stood out and seemed out of place.
Karkaroff's tone changed to one of warning. "Dumbledore believes it! I pray, Master, that you don't underestimate him! It was the downfall of your predecessor, you know!"
Ignoring Maldemort's fury at this remark, Karkaroff continued. "Why do you think she has eluded capture to this day? Why is Potter so strong around her? Why is Potter STILL alive, after almost eight years with her at his side? Where do you think his incredible `luck' comes from? She IS the chosen one, I assure you … And so far, she has done everything that had been foretold - by allying herself with Potter, and `loving' him, she made sure that they would both be very hard to bring down! And look at what Potter has done already: he brought down Voldemort! No one had ever been close to touching him, but Potter brought him down. He brought you down, Master, once! We can't let it happen again!"
Maldemort got up swiftly, and started pacing the room. "SHUT UP! That fable is nothing but lies. The only reason that Potter had the upper hand was MY stupid mistake. Believe me it won't happen again!"
Karkaroff's words, however, seemed to have had a profound impact.
Maldemort turned again towards Karkaroff, agitated. "You're sure they're all following Draco?" He had spoken the words with some apprehension.
"Yes, Dark Lord, they're walking right into a trap."
At that very moment, a low, bell-like sound resonated all over the cave, and Maldemort quickly looked up at Karkaroff, a look of worry increasingly perceptible on his face.
"Someone has just given the secret signal to open the door of this lair! I am not expecting anyone until tomorrow! Have you been followed, Igor? Have you disclosed the location of these headquarters to anyone?"
Karkaroff shrugged his shoulders and shook his head negatively, and turned around towards the entrance hall.
A young boy with long, greasy black hair was standing in front of the door, apparently awestruck at the scenery around him. He was dirty, and seemed to have been travelling for days. But the most interesting part about him was the body he was carrying. As he laid it down on the cold, stone floor, a thick mane of bushy, brown, discheveled hair came out from the hood of the mountain jacket that the apparent victim was wearing.
"Thomas Winslow!" Maldemort shrieked, running to greet him. "I had heard that you were quite the wizard, but this … this is spectacular!"
Winslow quickly bowed to the dark wizard, and spoke. "I apologize, Master. I know I was expected tomorrow, but I came across - let's call it … a golden opportunity - and I knew I had to get here as soon as I could."
Maldemort looked down with glee at Hermione Granger, who was still unconscious on the floor, with a huge, bloody bump protruding from her right temple. She was breathing, but her face seemed to show she was experiencing some pain.
"You did well, Thomas. Very well, indeed! You will be rewarded for this."
Maldemort then looked up towards Karkaroff with an air of smug triumph. "I guess even chosen ones meet their match at some time …"
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Harry was staring in disbelief at the reddish brown spatter of liquid on the ground near the entrance of the cave. It was unmistakable: the fluid was blood … Hermione's blood. A few strands of curly, wavy brown hair were glued to it, and by the looks of it, she had suffered some kind of injury to her head.
"I don't know what happened, mate …" Ron was avoiding Harry's gaze since he had come into the cave screaming that Hermione had disappeared.
He continued, on a hushed tone. "We were both up on the boulder, chatting … and then, she climbed down to get back to the cave … I was settling in my watch position when I heard some shuffling below. That's when I saw a shadow disappear into the woods further down the hill."
Harry took it in, but something was off. His instincts were telling him that something else had gone on, something that Ron was trying to hide.
"Maybe she fell down, and maybe an animal took her, I -"
"STOP! Just stop, Ron! What did you do? What happened?"
At these words, Ron's face turned a deep shade of puce. "Nothing, Harry! How dare you?" he said defensively, trying to convey a sense of having been offended. His eyes, however, were still shifty, avoiding Harry's at all costs.
"LOOK at me, Ron! I know you still love her!" Harry paused, and added slowly, more deliberately, "I know you're still … IN love with her …"
Ron's jaw dropped, and a look of genuine shame suddenly overtook Ron's face. He looked up at Harry. Tears seemed to be welling in his eyes.
"So what happened, Ron? Her life may depend on it, please! And the truth, please!" Harry was trying to remain calm, while bracing himself for anything.
"I … I … I may have tried to ki - kiss her! I got caught in the moment, I lost my head! But she slapped me Harry, she loves you! And -"
Harry felt his insides ignite with fury. He controlled himself as best as he could, but spoke between his teeth. "Congratulations, Ron. Really! It may very well be that your `behaviour' caught her off guard so much that she will now have to pay for it with her life …"
Harry turned around, and headed for the woods. He wasn't thinking clearly yet, but he had to get moving quickly. Jogging away, he looked at the entrance of the cave, where Ginny was standing, in tears, apparently dumbfounded at the news that had just hit her.
"I need you, Ginny, and two others!" Harry didn't even turn around as he yelled, "and not you, Ron …"
Harry's anger was quickly turning to pain, and heartache. Hermione meant more to him now than anything else in the whole world. She had always been an amazing friend, but now, she had become his strength, his inspiration and he couldn't fathom one more day without her. The last months had been trying, but he knew perfectly well that without her, there was just no reason to go on …
Losing her meant that he would, slowly but surely, lose himself.
He suddenly turned around, and looked at Ron, who hadn't moved. He looked aghast in despair and shame.
"Ron, this is no time to become soft-hearted. We'll sort everything later, but now, I need you to lead the rest of the team in pursuit of Draco, exactly as planned. I'll make sure to get back to you guys later."
Ron snapped out of his torpor, and nodded. As Harry turned around, he saw from the corner of his eyes that he was running to the cave.
"Come on", Harry yelled to Ginny, who was running towards him with Angelina Johnson and Dean Thomas. "We must move quickly! Look right over there, the `kidnapper' left his footsteps on the wet soil."
Harry was beside himself. Right near the fresh footsteps on the wet soil were more drops of blood …
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Painfully, Hermione opened her eyes. She could hear and feel her heart beating inside her head, resonating like a drum, and a strong throbbing pain near her right temple. She brought her hand up to her head, and winced as she felt the huge, golf-ball sized bruise. She then looked around her, and was gripped with surprise - and fear.
She was lying on a rudimentary bed, in what appeared to be some kind of cave. The cave, however, was inhabited for sure, and somewhat decorated. There were bookshelves, carved directly in the rock itself, on one side of the enclosure. The lighting was low and greenish, and the whole place was ominously terrifying. There were dark green tapestries on yet another wall, reminiscent of the Slytherin colours at school.
She turned around and held back a scream.
"Good morning, Miss Granger! I hope you've had a … restful night?"
Hermione felt a wave of terror invade her body at the sight of the man standing at the side of her bed, who still bore a resemblance to Lucius Malfoy, but with some very nasty snakelike features. She understood immediately that his had to be Maldemort himself.
"You! What … How - how did I get here?" She was trying real hard to maintain her composure, and to conceal the fact that she was ridden with fear.
"Well, Miss Granger, I have allies everywhere, you see. Our young friend, over there, brought you!"
Thomas Winslow came out of the shadows, a triumphant air of glee about him. "Hello, professor Granger! Interesting circumstances for meeting again, wouldn't you say?"
Despite her precarious position, and the pain she was feeling, Hermione stood right up. "YOU! I knew there was something evil in you! I was right to warn Dumbledore about you! No wonder you've managed to lower yourself to serving this filthy, laughable being. You should -"
"Be CAREFUL, Miss Granger! You're certainly in no position to insult me!" Maldemort seemed amused, but the severe expression on his face left no doubt that she wasn't to mess around with him.
Maldemort continued, suddenly interested and motivated. "In fact, Miss Granger, let us show you that we mean business. Thomas? Would you oblige?"
"Crucio!" Winslow's voice was the last thing Hermione heard before the curse struck.
She was thrown to the floor, as by an invisible hand, where all of the sudden she was overtaken by pain beyond anything she had ever felt - or could ever imagine. It seemed that multiple sharp hooks were ripping through her navel, trying to extricate the inside of her belly … her head had apparently been set on fire, and was burning in a torching inferno … but she knew, somehow, that there was no fire. She also felt like each one of her limbs was being pulled by horses, to the point of being ripped away from her body. And all this, at the same time.
No matter how Harry had tried to explain to her how the Cruciatus curse felt, she had never grasped it - until now.
She tried to scream but couldn't. Her body was convulsing, and she started feeling strangely distant, as if she was no longer associated with the pain, or with the unfortunate rag doll of a girl withering on the cold stone floor.
It dawned on her. She was about to die. How in the world had Harry managed to defeat such a horrible curse?
She thought of Harry … she remembered the fact that she had seen him for the last time the night before. Had she been distant with him? No, but the moment had not been really special either.
The hooks where rummaging in her stomach area now. The pain was eating away at her ability to breathe, to think. A cold, black fog suddenly enveloped her, smothering her from all sides. She was slowly being submerged by a wave of icy, cold shivers. There it was: soon, she would be crossing over. Maybe, she thought, it was better this way?
An unbearable sadness came over her. NO! She couldn't leave him. Not now, anyway.
All of the sudden, she felt yanked back violently into her body. In a flash, the pain itself was gone. She was still aching, however, all over her bruised body. She opened her eyes, panting, and coughed uncontrollably for almost a minute. A wave of nausea came over her, and she threw up on the floor, around the same time she started shivering. Finally, she looked up to see Thomas Winslow looking at her, a sardonic smile across his face. He threw her a wool blanket, which she reluctantly wrapped around herself, still trembling like a leaf.
"So? How did you like that?" Maldemort was grinning gleefully from ear to ear, like a child in a candy store.
Hermione was at a loss for words. She felt like screaming at them, but didn't have any energy left. When she finally did speak, it was barely a whisper. It did translate, however, her rage.
"We will get you both for this … for everything!"
Maldemort came inches from her face, breathing hard, and reeking of a foul smell. "Bold words, wouldn't you say? Especially when your beloved isn't anywhere around to come to your rescue … in fact, not only is he far, but he is right about to walk into a trap!"
At these words, Hermione panicked and felt her heart constrict. She had to do something. She tried to bluff to gain time.
She smiled as charmingly as she could. "If you think Harry doesn't know about your scheme, you've got something else coming!"
Maldemort's upper lip twitched very briefly. It was enough for Hermione to know that she had hit something.
Maldemort quickly hid his uneasiness. "Nice try, Miss Granger. You trying to bluff is endearing, but it won't work.
Hermione's mind was working furiously. She knew Dumbledore had put a charm on Draco so that they could follow him, but if they - as Maldemort had so aptly said - had been walking towards a trap all along, it probably meant that someone on Maldemort's side had found out. She decided to explore that angle.
Still feeling the impact of the pain, she nevertheless acted as smug as she could. "Well, if you want to take that chance, that's fine. But do you honestly think that Harry is stupid enough to trust his whole plan on someone as clueless as Draco Malfoy? From the start, we figured out …"
Hermione took a deep breath. If her bluff was going to work, this was it.
"… we figured out that someone else knew about the charm. So following him was one part - designed to fool you - but as for the rest of the plan, you've got -"
Her bluff had hit dead centre.
Maldemort's face had begun twisting in rage. He grabbed her by the hair and lifted her violently from the floor, and brought her face about an inch from his. She was faced, once again, with the smell his breath, and felt its putrid warmth on her lips and cheeks. Her nausea quickly came back to the surface, but with supreme concentration, she managed to refrain herself from throwing up again.
"YOU LITTLE BITCH! DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING TO LIE THERE, AND MAKE A FOOL OF ME? You will TELL me what the plan is, or I will get it out of you - no matter the amount of pain, torture, or degradation I have to put you through … In fact, now that I think about it, Draco seemed quite fond of you, girl … I could certainly arrange for an `intimate' evening between the both of you, if that's what it takes!"
"NO! NO! Anything but that, please!" Hermione was improvising as she went along, but she was frantically trying to remain believable. A wild idea then struck her.
She looked at Maldemort with a pleading face, trying as much as she could to appear bitter and very sad.
"Please don't do that, Sir. I - I - I dislike Draco very much, and even if things are not going so well with Harry, it would be the death of me if I were to engage into -"
Maldemort fell right into the trap she had laid for him, convinced he saw an opportunity in what she had just said.
"Interesting comment, Miss Granger … So Harry Potter is NOT all that he's cracked up to be after all?"
Hermione broke down in sobs, continuing to play her game with Maldemort.
"Oh no, Sir, no! He can be so cruel, and mean, and inconsiderate … I wonder sometimes what I ever saw in him!"
She stood up straight, in a flash, and put on a mortified face, bringing both her hands to her face to cover her mouth.
She spoke on a very hushed tone, trying to look as tormented as she could, and as if she had just been tricked into revealing more than she was supposed to. "Oh, but what am I telling you? This is none of your business! You … you want to kill him, and your son tried to kill me!"
But her gamble had been successful. She had convinced her enemy that she was nothing more than an unstable, emotionally driven girl who could be influenced and deceived into believing anything.
Maldemort became much softer. "Well, Miss Granger, I am a reasonable dark wizard … Potter, after all, is not the real person I'm after, you see. It is Dumbledore I really want. Always did."
He paused for effect, looking straight into Hermione's eyes. She was concentrating real hard to keep her mind closed, in order not to be read. She had become, over the last couple of years, an accomplished Occlumens.
"Just tell me where Potter is headed, and I promise you I won't kill him."
Hermione did her best to appear totally distraught over an impossible choice.
With a high-pitched, sob-interrupted voice, she pleaded. "You promise you will keep him alive?"
A victorious Maldemort looked down at her, and with a condescending voice, spat, "I promise you, Miss Granger, that you can have Potter all to yourself after all this is done …"
Hermione sighed, and spoke in a barely audible fashion. "Harry is gathering troops in a clearing about two kilometers from here. From that spot, he plans to launch a guerrilla attack on these headquarters. He has a group of about fifteen highly-skilled wizards - including Dumbledore - to back him up."
Maldemort lifted an eyebrow. "Only fifteen?"
Hermione looked down on the floor before she answered. "Yes, Harry was convinced it was enough …"
"It figures! Potter always thought himself better than everyone else. Oh well! He'll just be easier to neutralize, I guess."
Hermione could hardly believe her incredible luck. She couldn't believe the fact that Maldemort had swallowed the whole story.
"THOMAS! COME HERE!"
Winslow appeared from the back of the room, where he had apparently been perusing some books.
Maldemort spoke with glee. "Change of plans! Thanks to Miss Granger here, I now know where Potter is going, so I'll go wait for him there with the Death Eaters. You stay here and keep this foolish girl here under surveillance."
Winslow replied, offended. "But Sir! I want to fight too! Why do I have to stay here and … baby-sit?"
Maldemort's laughter exploded throughout the cave. "Baby-sit! That's a good one, Thomas! Your hour of glory will come, boy, but I need someone trustworthy to make sure she doesn't attempt anything foolish. I think you're the best-suited candidate for the job."
Winslow said some unintelligible words under his breath, and forcefully pushed Hermione towards the back area of the cave, where shackles hung on the rock wall. After tying her solidly, he went back to the corner where he had previously been, looking through some dark magic books and scrolls. Hermione could still see him very well, so there was no hope of trying to escape him.
She let out a deep breath. She had to hope, now, that Harry would get to the lair much faster than it would take Maldemort to figure out he'd been duped. She dared not think about what would happen to her if - or rather, when - Maldemort found out about the fable she had just fed him.
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Harry abruptly signalled the people accompanying him to stop, causing Ginny to almost crash head first into him.
He had to think. Whoever had captured Hermione had not bothered to cover their tracks, a fact that seemed extremely odd to Harry. His instincts were telling him not to pursue his course, that he may just be walking right into a trap. His heart, however, kept urging him to go and find Hermione.
"What's the plan now, Harry?" Ginny was trying to catch her breath. They had been running for the last twenty minutes. Angelina and Dean caught up a few seconds later.
"Something is wrong, Ginny, I can sense it."
Ginny looked at him with fear in her eyes. "What do you mean?"
Harry pointed at the clear, unmistakable footprints on the soft, humid forest soil.
He then looked at Ginny. "Let's say you wanted to capture Hermione and disappear, what would you do?"
Ginny, looking puzzled, opened her mouth to anwer. "Well I -"
Harry cut her off, not really listening. "Exactly! You would have made sure to apparate, or at least to erase your tracks. But this kidnapper didn't bother. It's as if he wants to be found, it's like … we're being led right into a trap."
Dean nodded. "Yeah, it would be the first thing I would think about if I didn't want to be followed or found."
Harry made to talk, but was unexpectedly interrupted by a majestic-looking snowy owl swooping down between the trees, and heading straight for him. After an elegant turn, the stunning bird landed softly on Harry's shoulder.
"Hedwig?! What are you doing here? I thought I told you … you're not supposed to come, you're too recognizable!"
The owl clicked her beak in disapproval, and lifted her leg to show the small scroll attached to it. Harry took it immediately, worried. Hedwig had been in his office at Hogwarts, and the only person who was allowed to send her - and to whom she would listen to anyways - was Albus Dumbledore himself.
Something was certainly going extremely wrong if the Headmaster himself was sending Hedwig, a very distinctive owl, to Harry.
He immediately recognized Albus Dumbledore's handwriting.
HARRY: HERMIONE IS BEING HELD AT MALDEMORT'S HEADQUARTERS, WHICH ARE ABOUT ONE KILOMETER SOUTH-EAST OF WHERE YOU ARE PRESENTLY. TAP FIVE TIMES ON THE TREE EXACTLY TO THE RIGHT OF THE DOOR OF WHAT WILL LOOK LIKE AN ABANDONED HOUSE BUILT RIGHT AGAINST THE ROCK FACE. MALDEMORT HAS LEFT AND SHE IS ALONE. GET THERE AS SOON AS YOU CAN, AND GET HER OUT. I WILL FIND YOU ONCE YOU HAVE HER IN A SAFE PLACE.
A.D.
For one small moment, Harry wondered how it was possible for Dumbledore to know where they were, and where Hermione was. It had been barely an hour since her disappearance, and yet, Dumbledore seemed to be, as always, ten steps ahead of him. But accepting this fact, Harry immediately looked at his companions, and started walking. "Let's go, we have to get there as soon as we can!"
Angelina grabbed his arm and held him back. "But Harry! How can you be sure this was in fact sent by Dumbledore?"
Harry looked at her with impatience. "Only Dumbledore can tell Hedwig what to do. And there is a code I recognize in the writing that tells me it's from Dumbledore. So come on, we have to move!"
Harry bolted away from them, and looked at his watch, that doubled as a compass. He cut right into the woods to his right, and the four of them trudged through thick branches, having to wrestle with a very treacherous terrain. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Harry and Ginny emerged in front of the old house Dumbledore had talked about - bruised, scratched and bleeding slightly, but both in one piece. The house was so derelict that you could be sure it hadn't been inhabited in centuries.
Angelina arrived just after them, panting and sweating. "Gosh, Harry! What a trek! We're finally here, I see …"
Harry replied slowly. "Yeah, I guess this is it."
Dean emerged from the woods at that very moment. He stopped cold when he saw the house.
"Wow … I don't think this could ever be suspected as being anything else than rubbish, wouldn't you say, Harry?"
"Well, that is the point, isn't it? Concealment, I mean." Harry started to proceed towards the door, glancing left and right to make sure they were alone in the area. Despite Dumbledore's message, Harry had the distinct impression he wasn't at all in control of the situation.
Harry, cautiously, took out his wand and tapped five times on the old fir tree that stood besides the door, and that even seemed to be holding the house together. Nothing happened at first.
Then, slowly, with a deep rumbling sound, the earth started to shake and shift, right in front of the door. It was actually disappearing, as if being sucked down from underneath. After a few minutes, a gaping, dark opening bigger than the door itself had appeared right at its foot. Harry approached it with hesitation, and moved his wand forward.
"Lumos," he murmured. The light from his wand revealed a flight of stone steps descending towards the dark bowels of the mountain that stood in front of them.
He looked back at his comrades. "I'll go with Ginny … Angelina and Dean, you stay here and keep watch. If something happens, send your Patronuses with a message. I'll know to get out as soon as I can.
"All right, Harry. But be careful, we need you!" Angelina smiled at him. Harry smiled back, remembering his tough Quidditch captain of a few years before, and how she had had to win the Cup without him.
"I'll try to remember that!"
Harry then turned to Ginny. "Are you ready?"
Trembling, still shaken by the whole ordeal, Ginny nodded. Harry, leading the way, descended the first steps, and eerily disappeared within the darkness. Ginny followed, not quite sure what they would encounter at the other end.
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