Chapter Three - Hermione the Healer
Hermione had reached the cockpit with little trouble, and no sign of any other attackers. She knocked on the heavy steel door. "Uh, hullo! Hullo in there, is everyone okay in there?" Her knocks went unheeded. Knocking again, "Hullo! Um, everyone's alive out here so far, um, are you alive in there?" After knocking a third time, Hermione assumed that the door was so thick she could not be heard over the sound of the engines and the roar of the wind.
Hermione searched the front cabin. As she looked to her left, she noticed a red telephone hooked on the bulkhead. She ran toward it and picked it up. She heard only silence on the other end, but spoke anyways.
"Hullo? Hullo? This is passenger Hermione Grang--- uh, Potter. Is this the line to the cockpit? Captain, if you're there please pick this up or answer or whatever it is you do." She waited. "Sir, my husband, um, Harry and I have, um, taken care of three of the men, they won't be bothering anybody!" She relayed the rest of the situation, hoping that the pilot knew that the plane was being hijacked. Still more silence. Hermione was ready to give up, when she heard a friendly, but tense, American voice.
"Ms. Potter?" Hermione felt a wash and a rush of relief. "This is Captain Charles MacDaniel. It's good to hear a friendly voice, ma'am."
"Yes! Yes, this is Hermione Potter," she said with stiffness as if talking to someone who was hard of hearing. "Can you open the door or something? I need to make sure you are alright in there."
"Ms. Potter, do you know if there are any doctors on board?" came the voice.
"Uh, no, I don't Captain," Hermione became frightened again. "Why?"
"Ms. Potter, one of the men attacked my co-pilot on his way back here from the bathroom, and ma'am, he's in a world of hurt."
"Captain, sir." Hermione whispered. "Can you open the door for me? I think I can help." Hermione's hand went to her pocket where the vial of phoenix tears lay.
"One more thing, before you come in, Ms. Potter." The previously smooth American Captain's voice became one of grave concern and worry. "Please see if my daughters are okay out there - one is eleven, and one is four."
Hermione swallowed hard. "Yes, sir. I will check on them for you - once we patch up your co-pilot, sir." With that, the door opened. At the same time, Hermione heard a horrible roar come from the rear of the plane.
It was Harry. "Hermione!!!! Get back here, now! Merlin's Beard, he's got a hostage!"
Hermione's head started spinning. She was torn between the profusely bleeding, obviously dying man sitting in the co-pilot's seat before her, and Harry's spine-chilling bellow. Also hearing Harry's primal scream, the Captain turned the plane over to his navigator. "Jim, we're just over Cleveland, right?"
The navigator nodded.
"They got our mayday already. Radio our status every 30 seconds to the tower. Tell them we're taking this bird back. Turn off the auto these goons set, bank this baby 180, and fly her back to Cleveland - emergency landing -- now!"
Charles shot from his seat and started toward the rear cabin. He answered Hermione's dilemma for her. "You, Ms. Potter, please stay here," he gestured toward the co-pilot. "Help Danny - please, Ms. Potter." As before, all Hermione could do, frozen in her fear, was to nod.
Chapter Four - The Terrorist's Song
Harry, still not believing what he was seeing, began to seethe with fury and a newly percolating hatred. All he knew was that he had him - he held this increasingly irritating little boy at wand-point. Harry briefly wondered if this was how Voldemort felt about him when he was a student at Hogwarts. "No time for reverie, Potter," he thought. "What to do… I can't fire without hitting the girl, now, can I?"
Harry worked furtively at numerous scenarios and strategies in his Auror-trained and sharpened mind. Each circumstance, however, ended in severe injury or tragedy for the girl. Even if Harry's timing was true, the girl would undoubtedly be hit with yet a second spell. For a Muggle, being doubly magicked, even by a simple disarming charm, was not a good thing. Even if he took the chance and performed a disarming charm, Harry thought, the flying blade may scrape the girl's throat and kill her.
Despite his rolling emotions and brain machinations, Harry did understand one thing: that he must look awfully silly, standing there brandishing a wooden stick, to the hostage taker, and now to the pilot who was stopping at Harry's side, panting.
The pilot let out a short blast of a scream. "Kellie!" He shouted. "No, no, no, no, not Kellie! Let her go. Let her go!"
Harry saw the pilot moving to lunge toward the attacker, and held him back with his free arm. "No! He'll kill her!"
The pilot, resigning, turned to look at Harry. First, he was relieved to see the look of steely determination in Harry's eyes. Following the path of Harry's sight, however, Charles saw that he was holding a mere brown stick in his hand.
"What in the Sam hell are you doing?" Charles nearly clocked Harry for all his perceived stupidity. "What are you going to get with that thing?"
Harry shouted again, "Hermione! I could really use your help here!"
Hermione materialized from behind the left bulkhead curtain, and surveyed the scene with the same kind of horror that Harry felt. "He's going to kill her!" She gasped.
"Not if we can help it, Hermione. Show this, this - boy -- what we can do. But don't hit anyone. Make it a simple spell or charm, ok?"
Charles and the boy watched with rapt interest as Hermione, still shaking, pointed her wand to the floor and intoned, "Serpensorcia!" With that, a large, hungry looking snake flew from the end of her wand, and began writhing on the floor.
"Good one, Hermione." Harry thought. "I can use this to my advantage." Harry began making, what sounded to Charles, as a low, sleek hissing noise with the occasional vowel sounds thrown in. Unbeknownst to Charles and the boy, Harry was speaking Parseltongue - snake language -- as only Harry, and Voldemort, were able to do. Harry, continuing in his hiss, told the snake to rear up and frighten the man with the girl - not to touch him, not to bite him, but simply to frighten him.
When the snake had obeyed his commands, and when enough time passed that Harry was satisfied that the attacker was sufficiently wracked, Harry pointed his wand away from the attacker and at the snake, bellowing, "Finite Incantatum!" As instantly as it had arrived, the snake disappeared with a wisp of smoke.
"Good heavenly Lord," the pilot whispered. "Point that stick thing back where you had it, man!"
However, Harry and Hermione's display of power had the opposite effect than they had hoped. To Harry's shock and horror, the boy heightened himself, craned his face heavenward and howled something horrible in that foreign language. Without another translation charm, Harry could no longer understand the strange tongue. As the boy's screeching came to a siren-like ending, he lowered his head again, and stared coldly into Harry's eyes.
This was unexpected, Harry thought. Without warning, Harry saw the man run the bladed edge of the knife across the young girl's throat. The girl's blood quickly welled up on the boy's white shirtsleeve. The boy dropped the girl unceremoniously to the floor, leaving her for dead.