Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all the books and the characters.
Chapter 17 Summary: Harry takes a page from Hermione's play book and chooses to research the ancient past for help, rather than resign himself to the loss of someone he fears he cares about more than he can admit.
Hermione finds herself bearing the wrath of Bellatrix once more due to Mundungus getting too close and the Death Eaters having to relocate her again. After awakening from Bellatrix's vicious Crucio, Hermione finds herself being cared for by a timid elf named Zibby and they both pay dearly for the little elf's kindness.
Ron follows Harry's example and finds new focus and determination, and via a surprising turn of events, comes to a truce with THRIBT. With the help of Neville, Ginny, Luna, and the rest of the DA they amass a significant assemblage of the research that Harry has started.
With results in hand, Harry takes the results of the DA's efforts to Dumbledore in the hope of spurning new avenues to search. Their discussion leads to Harry's better understanding of where the Headmaster's heart lies and why he has made the past decisions he has.
Chapter 18: Thoughts of Home
Hermione leaned against the wall of her room, acutely aware of the hard stone at her back. She longed for an escape from the prison where she was held and the people who held her captive. She glanced towards the locked door at the front of the room.
There was no escape.
Suddenly, the floor creaked outside her door and bit by agonizing bit, the doorknob began to turn. Wary, Hermione crawled away from the door and tensed, listening for Bellatrix's harsh cackle. Instead, a small head, poking tentatively through the opened door, greeted her.
"Zibby?"
The small elf jumped. "Oh, Miss. I is sorry for waking you!" The nervous elf trembled. "I be only wanting to…" Zibby trailed off, cowering behind the door.
"What is it, Zibby?" Hermione said gently. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"I is knowing that, Miss. I am beein' cousin of Dobby, from Hogwarts. He tell me he knows the great Harry Potter and his friends the Lady Hermione Granger and the great Ron Weasley. She is a good wizard, he says, who be not hurting us elves. She is kind and brave, Miss is, trying to help us elves who have bad masters." Zibby stopped and tensed at the remark regarding her master, as if expecting a blow from Hermione. When none came, she looked at Hermione with wonder in her eyes. "Dobby is right. Miss is indeed a kind wizard."
Hermione smiled. "I'm not so kind, Zibby, it's just that your so-called masters are very bad." Her smile faded and her gaze turned serious. "Now, tell me, what else have they done to you?"
The house elf hesitated, then said in a small voice, "Masters is hitting me all the time, when I do bad things." When Zibby saw Hermione's eyes harden and narrow, she continued hurriedly. "I is deserving it, Miss! I is not doing as they say, and I be punished for it!" Zibby cried as she looked around the room for something to beat herself with.
Reaching out to restrain the diminutive elf, "Zibby, you shouldn't be punished for doing something wrong! It's not right," Hermione said firmly.
Zibby shook her head. "I is able to take what they give me, Miss, but it is not just I they is hurting. Masters is hurting people, lots of people. Not just grown wizards, but Muggles and children too." Zibby looked at Hermione. "They is not like you, Miss. You is kind, and gentle, and brave." Zibby leaned in towards Hermione. "So, I is to be helping Miss escape from my Master."
"But Zibby, they'll kill you if they find out! No, I can't let you. I'll find some other way," Hermione gasped as she reached for her new benefactor.
"No, miss. They not find out. Zibby has it all figured out," the elf said as she took a step back. "I is going to weaken the locks on your bindings. Miss can use this fire grate to bend them open a bit," she said, pointing to the large fireplace across the room. "You be ready. Next night, I keep Master busy whiles you run. Run far, miss, run towards the valley at the foot of the mountains, then on to where the sun sets. Never stop, miss, not for anything or they'll find you," and with that, the elf disappeared.
Hermione feared for the elf's safety, but weeks of hunger, thirst, and little sleep brought forth a ravenous craving for freedom. Examining the shackles on her wrists and feet, she noticed that they had become loose and rattled when she shook them. Scampering over to the fireplace and the ancient cinder covered grate, she saw what Zibby had meant. The forward tines of the grate were flattened with a decorative twist. Carefully, so as not to get any tell-tale ashes on her, she slid the tine between the plates of the lock and with all her might she tried to pull the plates apart.
After only several minutes of intense effort, Hermione was exhausted as she sat back to view her success. Only a millimeter or two; still not enough she found as she tried to squeeze her hand through the rusted clasps. 'This will be a long night,' she thought as she took a deep breath and attacked the cuff once again.
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"Excellent, Ginny! That new move you've added to your roll should keep those Hufflepuffs guessing," Ron shouted to his sister as she scored yet another goal on her brother.
Ron was much more upbeat these days and he passed his enthusiasm on to those around him. The last game before the holiday break was the coming weekend and though he had been practicing them incessantly, the Red Headed Troll was taking a break.
"Come on, Harry. Haven't you caught the bloody snitch yet?" he hollered to the raven-haired seeker above.
"Three times already, Ron," Harry responded, amused at his friend's antics. "I think the poor thing's getting a bit dizzy. What do you say we call it a day and get something to eat? We just have time to change and get to the Great Hall," Harry cajoled.
"Aye, as much as I hate to." Ron sped away from the goals and out to the center of the field, "Alright everyone, brilliant practice. Just one more to go before the game. Let's clean up and chase Harry to the dinner table!" And with that remark, he flew as fast as his broom could carry him to the changing room.
"I knew the mention of food would get to him," Harry muttered as he sped after the rest of the team.
Harry was the last to arrive at the evening meal to a smirking table of Gryffindors. "I hope you can move faster than that during the game, Harry, or we're all in a lot of trouble," Ron tried to say past a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "Ha, Ha, Ron. Taking up comedy now, are we?" Harry chided as he took his seat next to the empty spot where Hermione would sit.
"Harry, has Dumbledore made anything from the scrolls we gave you?" asked Ginny from across the table.
"Not much yet, but they're working on it," Harry said looking across the mountain of food provided by the house elves. "He keeps saying how impressed he is by what everyone found. Quite useful he thinks. They've tried one of the locator charms and found an abandoned house in southern Wales. It seems the charm is for finding where someone has been, rather that where they are. He's working on modifying it, but it might take some time."
"What about the other spells we found? You know, the offensive and defensive ones?" Ron asked as he reached across the table to stab another slab of roast pork.
Harry parried Ron's fork and snatched the roast from an astonished Ron. "He's discussing them with Tonks and Mad Eye. Some of them were a bit on the harsh side, he thought. I mean, making someone's eye explode into the back of their head is a bit permanent. Doesn't leave much for a trial, now does it."
"Thanks, Harry. I believe I've lost my appetite now," muttered a queasy looking Ron.
"Still too good for Bellatrix," Neville muttered from beside Ron, "after everything that she's done."
Harry tried to eat the pilfered roast as he thought about Neville's comment. Harry had lost his parents before he was old enough to really remember them. Neville, on the other hand, had known his parents quite well before they ended up in St. Mungos at the hand of Bellatrix Lestrange. Her subsequent battle with him at the Ministry and the kidnapping of a close friend only added to his resolve for revenge.
A resolve that Harry knew all too well. A revenge that he knew in his heart would ultimately end with someone's death, Harry's, or Voldemort's.
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Hermione could now slip the shackles on and off without eliciting too much pain. Not wanting to injure her ankles to the point of hampering her escape, she had spent extra time prying and bending the rusted clasps.
The day had gone by unnoticed but for the brief visit by Zibby with her ration of spoilt bread and water. That had been several hours ago and the veil of night flowed like a river of crimson across the western sky.
'Run towards the mountain, then west along the valley,' Hermione thought to herself, remembering what Zibby had told her. She scavenged anything of possible use she could find within her room. A coat hanger that she sharpened to a point in the fireplace, cord from the drapes, a flake of glass from a broken mirror. Not much, but she had always found that her most formidable weapons were her mind and strength of will.
"Alright," she said, smiling and thinking of seeing Harry, Ron, and the rest of her friends again. "Stubbornness, I believe you call it. And that, I have plenty of."
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Night fell upon the room, and Hermione waited eagerly for darkness to completely descend upon the house. All she had to do now was wait for Zibby to come unlock the door so she could escape to her freedom, friends, and life.
Only a few minutes had passed before the door opened slowly and Zibby crept in.
"Miss? It is time for you's to be escaping now, Miss." Zibby said softly, her voice laced with urgency.
Hermione quickly slipped the loosened shackles off, stood, and started towards the door. Turning to the elf, she knelt down and looked the creature in the eye.
"I don't know how to thank you, Zibby. You've saved my life. I…" Hermione trailed off, not knowing how to express her gratitude.
Zibby shook her head. "I has done nothing, Miss. Only helping you to escape from a bad place where you should never have been." Zibby hesitated before adding, "And Miss, there are not many wizards who be help'n us. We be thank'n you, all of us elves, and that is why I is helping you escape."
"I promise you, Zibby," Hermione said sincerely, "that as soon as I get back to Hogwarts, I will help all the elves to finally regain some of their rights. I promise," she repeated.
Zibby opened the door. "Wait a couple of minutes, Miss, while Zibby is distracting Master. Then, you run fast, for if Master is catching you, he be angry, very angry," Zibby cautioned. "Be careful, Miss."
"I will, Zibby. I hope you find a way to get away from these horrid people soon. You don't deserve this wretched life," Hermione said, regret lacing her voice.
"Zibby is fine, Miss. Zibby is only hoping Miss will be, too." With that, the elf vanished, leaving Hermione to stare at the place where it had stood. She silently thanked the little creature that had given her back her freedom.
After several minutes, Hermione crept out the door, watching for any signs of movement. If she got caught now… she didn't want to think about what would happen to her.
She moved slowly towards the forest in front of her. Every noise made her stop and tense. She imagined every rustle of the leaves, every skitter of an animal, was a Death Eater coming to capture her and drag her back to her prison. When she reached the edge of the forest, she sighed in relief. She had made it. The hardest part was over.
"Hey! Wha' d'you think yer doing over there!" a furious voice yelled. "Yer in big trouble now, ya' good for nothing elf!"
Hermione gasped, oh what had Zibby done? She could hear the murderous tirade that oafish bastard was flooding upon the defenseless creature. Her instincts told her to run, and run she did. Wasting no time, she darted into the leafy underbrush, jumping over tree roots and plants. Low-hanging branches scratched her arms, and bushes cut her legs, but she gave no thought to the pain. Her only thought was of escaping.
After several minutes of running, she slowed, unable to run any longer. As she leaned against a tree trunk for support, she strained her ears, listening for any signs of a pursuer. All she heard was silence. After a few moments, she was reassured that, for the moment, she was alone in the forest. Now the only thing she had to worry about was finding Hogwarts.
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The DA had gone well the previous night. Tonks had brought some of their newly discovered defensive spells and the class had practiced well into the evening. As a reward to the five DA members who had initiated the research, and as a bit of incentive to the other houses, Dumbledore had awarded fifty points to Gryffindor and ten points to each of the others. As news of this spread through the school, it caused a rush on the library the likes of which Madam Pince had only dreamt of, while the Headmaster simply sat back and enjoyed the mayhem with a devilish twinkle in his eye.
Tonight though, was Quidditch practice. Since it was their last before the Hufflepuff game, Ron had called for an early start. The practice had been going for a few hours with most of the team working on the nuances of a new play Ron had devised, while Harry spent his time catching and releasing the snitch. A light rain had begun to fall in the crisp autumn air and the sun was beginning its grand exit to await the call of another day.
"Impervius," Harry pronounced a bit sadly, as he pointed his wand at his glasses. "Thanks for that one, Hermione."
He had just adjusted his glasses so they wouldn't slide off his nose, when he caught a brief glint of gold under the far goal posts. "Perfect setup for a Wronski Feint," Harry muttered as he sped off in a small explosion of spray.
As Harry came weaving through them, one-by-one the rest of the team stopped mid field to watch what they knew would be a spectacular catch. Once past the last chaser, Harry arced up and flipped over into a reverse dive. With the ground approaching at a dizzying speed, he started to pull fiercely at his broom handle in an attempt level out next to the snitch. It was then, like the raw torture from a Crucio spell, that a pain from his scar engulfed his entire body and he fell.
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"INCOMPETENT WITLESS FOOLS! CRUCIO!" the shrill voice declared to the three writhing in agony at his feet.
"B… But…my… ahh! But… my… Lord?" struggled Bellatrix through the pain.
"SILENCE WOMAN! You have failed me! I do not want to hear your pathetic excuses. Pray that I let you live!"
Several minutes passed and Voldemort sensed that Bellatrix's mind was near the breaking point. As he slowly released her, his attention now became fully focused on the remaining two. "Beg for an end to this! Give me your body, your mind, your… soul," he hissed as his eyes glowed a blood red. Voldemort increased the intensity until the sickening sound of shattering ribs, spine, and limbs could be heard. "Incendio!"
When the flames had consumed the remains of the two who had been tasked to guard Hermione, Voldemort strode from the room and shrieked, "Remove them! Dump their remains in with a herd of swine. Place my dear, sweet Bellatrix in a pit of the swine's offing!"
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The brief rain shower that passed overhead had not quenched the thirst that burned the back of her throat, and the hunger, even for a slice of mold covered bread, was now a constant companion. She had searched the brambles for berries of any kind, but the forest animals had already taken their fill.
"I'd even settle for one of Hagrid's Rock Cakes," she muttered to the trees as she fought her way through the snagging branches of a thicket. "I wonder if a Blast-Ended Skrewt can be boiled like a lobster, with garlic and oh… lots of butter."
Hermione continued wandering a drunkard's path through the dense underbrush, the evening mist drifting through the naked forest canopy bringing a hush to the carpet of leaves decorating the gnarled roots. The dampness of the air chilled her to the bone, but her mind was such that it went unnoticed. The rising moon provided her no solace through the clouds and the darkness of night became complete.
She tripped over a hidden branch and tumbled down into a small trench, becoming hidden in the mounds of wind blown leaves that lie at the bottom. "That's ok, Parvati. I think I'll just rest here in the Common Room tonight and wait for Harry. See you in the morning," and with this comment to her imagined roommate, she was asleep.
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A pale red light began to filter through Harry's closed eyes and invade his conscious thoughts. Across the room, he could hear Ron discussing something with Madam Pomfrey about Quidditch on Saturday. He opened his eyes to ask what was going on, but was greeted with a wave of dizziness and a pounding in his head that threatened to excise his lunch in a most undignified fashion.
"Ah, Mr. Potter, you're awake," Madam Pomfrey cheerfully announced, noticing that her most frequent customer had once again reclaimed his status amongst the living. "May I recommend a new and less dangerous sport, Mr. Potter? Something like croquet, perhaps? Is it not enough you have a bed dedicated to you, must you have the entire wing as well?" she chastised as she went about evaluating his condition.
"You've taken a rather nasty bump to the head, Mr. Potter. Though I don't see any permanent damage, this time, I will want you to stay here tomorrow so I can keep an eye on you. I'll inform your professors in regard to your absence from their classes." She turned to face Ron, who was lurking nervously behind the privacy curtain, "No more, Mr. Weasley. I want him to get his rest." She raised her hand to cut off the impending question, "And regarding his participation in Quidditch, we will see what his condition is tomorrow evening."
"May I have a word with him, Poppy?" came Dumbledore's voice from the doorway.
"Certainly, Headmaster. But please, nothing too stressful, he does need to rest."
Taking the chair next to Harry, the seat normally occupied by Hermione in these circumstances, Dumbledore smiled and offered Harry a Lemon Drop that he had drawn from his robe. "Harry, I must ask. Was this simply an unfortunate accident or is there something I should know about?"
Leaning up on his left elbow, Harry attempted to explain to the Headmaster the events as he remembered them. "It was my scar. I was diving for the snitch and the last thing I remember was my scar hurting like I had a nail being pounded into my skull. Other than a Crucio spell, I've never felt such pain. My whole body was on fire. Then, I woke up in here," he finished as he lay back down to stare blankly at the ceiling. "Something happened, Professor. Something Voldemort is terribly upset about, with complete and utter fury." He hesitated before asking quietly, "Was there another attack?"
"No, Harry, at least none that we have been able to discover. How does your scar feel now?"
"A dull throbbing ache, but that describes my whole body at the moment," Harry quipped, smiling dryly. "It's better, though it seems he's still pretty upset about whatever it was that happened."
"Alright then. I'll let you rest so that you may complete your recovery." A small smile appeared as he added, "Though I fear our Mr. Weasley may end up in the bed next to you due to deep concern regarding a certain Quidditch match."
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Hermione awoke from a nightmare, screaming for the Death Eater pulling on her sweater to release her. She grabbed at the hand that had her sweater, jerking and twisting to break free from the rough misshapen appendage. She fought desperately until realization slowly crept through the haze of her nightmare bewildered mind that the hand was merely the root of a tree protruding from the cold ground on which she had slept.
Looking through the stark limbs of the trees above her, she could see enough through the clouded sky that it was mid morning. By what was now unconscious habit, she rose and started walking west along the valley floor. Tired, parched, and ravenous, she had little choice. To stay was to be found and die at the hands of the death eaters, to move provided some hope.
Hours passed as she careened blindly towards an uncertain destination. Time was measured in steps, one after the other, until feet turned to miles, and she lost all sense of direction. On an on she dragged herself, until she finally collapsed onto the hard forest floor, unable to move another inch. Lack of water and food created a massive headache and the world around her spun, further inhibiting her already delusional mind.
"Hermione?" a distant voice called. "Hermione?"
Slowly, the fact that someone was talking to her broke through the haze in her mind. Her eyes opened, and her disoriented gaze latched on to the figure standing a few feet before her.
"Ginny?" she slurred in stunned disbelief. She grasped onto a tree branch and pulled herself up. With a dizzy sway, she stumbled over to the redheaded girl. It was over, she was saved, she could go home. "Ginny!"
She reached out to hug Ginny, and lost her balance when her arms met nothing but air.
"Huh?" Confused, Hermione turned around, frantically looking everywhere around her. No one was there. It had all been an illusion, a mirage created by her exhausted and disoriented mind. Never before had her mind betrayed her so much.
Despondent, she collapsed again. She was alone still, with no knowledge of where she was, where she was going, or if anyone was even looking for her. She could have been a hundred yards from Hogwarts, or a hundred miles. Hunger, thirst, and the desperate wish for safety pushed her on, as she stumbled towards the sunlight that filtered through the pine near the end of the forest.
Trudging on, the hours soon passed and she grew weary. Lowering herself to sit on the forest floor, "I wonder if leaves are good to eat," she mused.
"I ate grass once when I was little," a familiar voice said, "and it didn't harm me at all."
Her gaze widened at the familiar figure in front of her. Despite the warnings in her mind that said he wasn't really there, her ecstasy at being found prevailed, and she ran towards her friend. "Harry!" He was finally here; she could go home, away from the dark forest. "I can't believe you're really here!"
She leapt towards her friend, her arms opened to embrace him and collided with the ground below, moaning in pain. "Ouch."
After a few stunned moments, reality set in. 'No one's here. Harry wasn't here, Ginny wasn't here, no one is here. I'm alone. I'm never going to get out of here.' Despair tore at the fortress of her mind, at her very will. All she wanted was to go back to Hogwarts, to her home. She wanted to see her friends and teachers again, sleep on a comfortable bed, drink something from a cup rather than lick it from a leaf. 'I'm going to die here,' her mind howled. Her fingers clawed at the ground and tears of frustration fell as she came to realize her fate. She pictured again her home for the last six years, and longed for the warmth of Hogwarts. In her mind's eye she could see the comfort of Hagrid's cozy hut, the sun reflecting off the lake, the towering stacks of books in the library, and crowds cheering as players zoomed around at the Quidditch field. The sharp images these longings conjured caused her soul to weep and her mind to cry out in torment. As her world darkened around her, her thoughts reached once more to that place of refuge and the keeper of her heart as the world went black.
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Harry sat atop his broom, shivering slightly as another gust of wind blew, and rubbed absently at his head. He still had a pounding headache that resulted from his earlier crash, and found himself struggling to focus on the game. Forcing himself to glance around for the elusive golden snitch, he moved slowly through the air in a languid figure eight.
A bell clanged. "Another ten points to Gryffindor!" Harry smiled slightly. Overcoming their previous depression and apathy from Hermione's absence and the defeat at the hands of Ravenclaw, the team had pulled through and was winning decisively over the Hufflepuff team.
"A spectacular block by Gryffindor's keeper, Ron Weasley! He's certainly at the top of his game today!" Even as he cheered for his friend, he winced and rubbed his head. He had declined all offers of potions for fear that they would interfere with his ability to play in the game. Plus, he had though that by admitting he needed a potion, Pomfrey would immediately think him not well enough to play and send him back to the Hospital Wing, a place he fervently hoped to avoid the rest of the year. So, he politely declined all offers before running as fast as he could away from the Hospital Wing.
His mind drifted to all the time he had spent in the care of Madame Pomfrey. Having been under her watchful eye numerous times, either as a result of Quidditch accidents, Voldemort, or his minions, Harry smiled as he remembered the nameplate they had placed at the foot of the bed, his bed. Then, there was the time when Hermione been hospitalized for weeks after being petrified. He had thought that had been unbearable. Now, he knew that having her missing was much worse.
He shook his head to rid himself of thoughts he knew would only lead to misery. He turned his attention back to the game, glancing quickly about for the snitch. When he didn't spot it, he returned to watching the rest of the team make up for lost time.
"Creevy passes to Weasley, Weasley passes to- oh! Nice dodge by Ginny there! She passes to Bell; now back to Weasley. Weasley shoots and… score! Another 10 points to Gryffindor! They just cannot be stopped this game!"
The green side of the crown hissed, while the maroon cheered wildly. Harry grinned madly. Unlike their last game, this match was looking to be a sure win for Gryffindor.
He flew slowly towards the center of the field, still looking for the ever-elusive snitch. Suddenly, a lone figure appeared in the middle of the Quidditch field, swaying slightly before collapsing onto the ground. Slowly, the crowd went silent. Harry stopped and stared, not believing his own eyes. He hovered, not moving or blinking, just staring in disbelief at the sight before him. Without warning, the snitch made its appearance as it hurled itself at Harry's scar, the sharp impact drawing Harry out of his daze.
"Hermione!" Harry's joyful shout rang through the silent field as he flattened himself out against his broom and sped down towards her. Once he reached the bottom, he didn't bother stopping. He lept off his still-moving broom and ran towards Hermione.
She turned to face him, but instead of the joy and relief he expected, all he saw was sadness and despair. He heard her muttering softly as he approached. "Oh no, not again. Please, I can't take it anymore. Please. No more illusions, no more ghosts, just leave me alone!" as she buried her head into the grass. Confused, he knelt before her and carefully turning her towards him, said in a soft and gentle voice, "Hermione? It's me, Harry. I'm not a ghost, I'm real." Her eyes slowly started to clear, hope flooding her brown eyes.
"Harry?" she breathed in disbelief. She hurled herself towards Harry and into his arms, laughing and sobbing in relief. It was over. She was free. She was home.
Harry wrapped his arms around her tightly, never wanting to let go of her again.