The Staff of Amaror
It had been a week now. A whole week. And still nothing. The Order and the Ministry had been searching for Hermione the whole time, but she seemed to have disappeared without a trace. Not that that was much of a surprise, Harry expected no less from Azalea Rookwood, she was far to clever to give her location away. Harry would have given up hope if it wasn't for the image of Hermione he had seen through Dumbledore's scrying. But that was a week ago now, and he had no idea what had happened to her in that time, he just hoped that Rookwood would tell them what she wanted so they could hurry up and get Hermione back safe at Hogwarts. If only there was a way he could make sure she was ok, if only he could just see her, if only for a little while.
Dumbledore had once again seemed to read Harry's mind when he called him into his office on the first Monday after Hermione had gone. He had sat silent for a while, his blue gaze piercing right into Harry's thoughts. "You must not try to scry for her Harry" he had said gently. "I do not know what Miss Rookwood would do if you tried. I believe that she will have put up some sort of magical defence by now against magical means of searching" he had told Harry.
Harry was quite amazed that Dumbledore had known what he was going to try to do, but then Dumbledore had always seemed to know almost everything. Harry spend the week in a daze, thinking about Hermione all the time, dreaming about her every night. Often waking in a cold sweat from nightmares that he wished he could forget, but which haunted his waking hours.
The rest of the school seemed unusually subdued, and the teachers all seemed distracted, often trailing off in the middle of a sentence, glancing over to where Hermione usually sat, hand in air, ready and eager to answer every question. It was like Hermione was already dead, they were all imagining the worst. The only good thing in that awful week was that Ron had started talking to Harry again, he had seen how stupid he had been, and apologised over and over again until Harry finally spoke to him. But deep inside the dark places of his heart he knew that he would trade all of Ron's new forgiveness to get Hermione back. Every time he thought about it he squirmed with guilt and felt sad that Ron's friendship to him had become so distant in the past few weeks that he could even think about trading it in for anything.
~*~*~
Hermione woke up shivering. The fire in the hearth had long since gone out. She had counted about six days, maybe seven, that she had been here. She hadn't seen Azalea since the scrying incident, which was making her very nervous. She had seen no living things at all since then, unless you counted the spiders. Her food magically appeared on a little wooden table by her bed, three times a day. That was the only thing she had to go on for the time, in her windowless room there was nothing to indicate the passing of days and nights. A bare bulb hung from the ceiling, offering meagre light. A wooden door to the side of the fireplace held a toilet and sink. No shower, no mirror, no soap. Hermione had nothing to do other than pace her room, trying to keep warm. She thought a lot about her parents, and if they knew that she was gone, and about Harry, hoping that he wasn't going to do anything stupid to try to rescue her, although she dreamt every night that he came bursting through the door and carried her away…
She sighed. Like that's gonna happen! Hermione thought hopelessly. There was a pop and a small plate of crusty bread with butter appeared on the wooden table beside her, and another pop brought her a glass of water. Hermione sighed again and picked up the bread and started to eat it slowly, savouring each mouthful. It would be hours before her next meal and she wanted to make each morsel last as long as possible.
Azalea stalked into the Manor and proceeded quickly to her study. She was in a bad mood. Voldemort, of all people, had decided to come and find her. He sent those stupid lapdogs of his, his Death Eaters. She had to give him credit though, he had actually found her, which is more than Dumbledore and his ninnies had managed to do.
The Death Easters had appeared three days ago, from the hills at the back of the Manor. They attacked in the night, ten of them. They managed to kill fourteen of her people in the Manor grounds without losing a single one of their number. They had actually reached the Manor undetected! But once inside, that was a different story.
They had entered the building through the kitchen passage at the back, finding two wizards on guard duty. Her men had heard Voldemort's clowns entering the passage, so they alerted everyone awake and activated the traps along the passage. It was bloody to say the least. Only three Death Eaters escaped. They ran right into the main hall, and came face to face with Azalea herself.
They started shouting spells at her silent form. She just laughed wickedly and faded into invisibility. She decided to play with them before killing them. She slowly circled them, magically tripping them over, whispering in their ear, laughing softly behind them.
She killed the blonde woman first. With one spell she ripped her apart, while the other Death Eaters watched, transfixed by the horrific sight in front of them. The second she killed by busting all the tiny capillaries in his body, causing blood to fly everywhere, drenching the final terrified Death Eater.
Azalea laughed cruelly as the Death Eater looked around fearfully, wand shaking in his hand. She decided to give this one the same treatment as her dear brother received.
But that was three days ago, and since then she had been busy clearing up the mess her so-called followers had created. It seemed that one of the Death Eaters had escaped, apparated away before he could be killed.
Azalea was furious.
Since the extermination of the Death Eater rats three days ago she had wasted valuable time tracking down the escaped one. Finally she had found him hiding in a grubby room in a muggle pub in Coventry. She had no idea how many people he had told about her whereabouts before she found him, and he was no use to her now, he killed himself as soon as he saw her.
She was back in her Manor now, sitting at her desk in the study. Her eyes wondered over the assortment of dark artefacts in the room and came to rest on the Staff of Amaror.
She smiled slightly.
It was time.
Hermione was just finishing her bread when the door of her room banged open. She jumped, sending the glass of water crashing to the floor. She looked up at Azalea, leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe. She smiled wolfishly at Hermione's terrified gaze.
"Hermione. Come. There is something I need your help with" she said cheerfully. Hermione swallowed and stood up, following Azalea into the passage way.
She looked around as they walked. This was the first time she had been allowed out of the room. They were walking down a long stone corridor lit by flickering torches. Hermione guessed they were in some kind of basement, the walls were damp and there were small puddles of water on the floor.
"Now I wouldn't wander off if I were you Hermione, we don't want any nasty accidents happening." Azalea advised and walked onwards, heeled boots echoing of the flagged stone floor.
They passed a few side corridors but did not turn down any. They soon came to a warn and chipped stone stairway and proceeded up it to a heavy wooden door. Azalea pushed it open and Hermione gasped.
She stood blinking in the light. The room she was in was massive, a great stone hall. She looked around and with a jolt realised where she was. It was Hector Rookwood's Manor. She was sure of it. She had seen this same hall in the photo in the Daily Prophet in the article about Rookwood's murder.
Azalea stood close by, arms folded, tapping her foot impatiently against the marble floor. She raised an eyebrow. "When you're finished gawking…" she walked swiftly up the staircase at the end of the hall and Hermione followed. She put any thoughts of escape behind her when she saw the amount of wizards in the place. The Manor was huge, and each passage way was occupied by at least four wizards, all in blood red robes. They stared indifferently at Hermione as she and Azalea walked by, like they were looking right through her, it sent shivers up Hermione's spine.
They finally stopped in front of a carved wooden door and Azalea muttered a password and the door swung open. Hermione stepped inside and looked around, stunned. "Quite a collection" she said weakly, gazing wide eyed at the numerous dark artefacts that lined the walls and tables of the room.
Azalea smiled slightly. "Yes, I think so. My brother was storing them, hiding them away so I wouldn't get my hands on them" she walked over to her desk and picked up the Staff of Amaror. Hermione eyed it warily. Azalea's smile widened. "Hermione do you know what this it? Yes? Good. And I'm sure you're aware of what it does? Ooh very good." Azalea said. She walked over to Hermione slowly, Staff in hand.
"But" she continued softly "I bet you don't know how to activate it do you?" Hermione shook her head, backing away, eyes on the Staff. Azalea grinned. "Well I do. You see, to activate this Staff, the blood of an innocent person is needed" she locked she eyes with Hermione's, sending a chill through the younger witch at the ice in that gaze. "I guess you qualify."
Hermione stood there, paralysed with fear. She couldn't move. "Why me?" she finally whispered.
Azalea laughed softly. "Because, Hermione, you are innocent, and good, and pure. You spend your life trying to keep Harry Potter alive. You value his life above your own. You are selfless. Of course, there are quite a few people who are" she said "But you're different. You have power Hermione. Power! I believe that that power will increase the power of the Staff, and therefore of myself. So I need your blood. Do you mind?" she said sweetly and laughed at the look on Hermione's face.
Hermione suddenly ran for the door, frantic. She froze midst stride, arms and legs snapping to her sides. Azalea had her in a full body bind. Tears leaked out the corners of her eyes and she kept thinking the same thing over and over. I'm going to die….
Azalea's wand tip glowed bright white. She ripped the sleeve of Hermione's jumper and exposed her arm. She undid the body bind. "Move, and I'll kill you." she informed Hermione coldly. "This is going to hurt" she added.
She set her wand tip against Hermione's arm and sliced through a section of skin.
Hermione screamed.
Blood poured down her arm and Azalea calmly caught it in a silver goblet. When she was done she waved she wand, and the skin on Hermione's arm sewed itself back together. Hermione collapsed on the floor, a burning pain spreading through her body. That was no ordinary spell. Her screams subsided, unconsciousness finally came and Hermione welcomed it.
Azalea looked down at her for a long minute then turned her back and set the goblet on her desk.
After a while she nudged Hermione with her boot until she stirred. "Come on Hermione. Up. Now." she said.
Hermione got unsteadily to her feet and staggered, leaning against the wall for support, feeling light headed. Her arm hurt terribly, although now there was no mark. She watched as Azalea took up the goblet containing her blood in one hand, and the Staff of Amaror in the other.
Azalea raised the goblet and, whispering incantations, poured Hermione's blood over the sapphire.
Time stood still for a long moment.
Suddenly, a blinding light issued from the large sapphire and a ripple of air passed through the room. The Staff turned jet black, the sapphire glowing brightly. Hermione looked at Azalea and saw that a strange azure light surrounded her, and her eyes glowed the same blue as the Staff. A powerful wave of light suddenly radiated from the Staff and Azalea's eyes widened. She screamed loudly. The light slammed through the room, causing everything in its path to break and fall. When it reached Hermione and she flew across the room and hit the wall. Blackness closed in, Azalea's screams still ringing in her ears.