Harry Potter and the Isle of Mists
Disclaimer: I can only hope to attain the creative brilliance of J. K Rowling.
AN: This story is AU after OOTP.
The World About You Devastated By Evil Lunatics
"So what do we do now, genius?" Ron asked with a sarcasm that would have made Malfoy proud, had it not been directed at him. Malfoy cut his eyes toward the red-head with a glare, but evidently decided not to waste words on him.
"Look, we're going to need -- " Draco began, but Harry was not really listening to him, his attention focused, as it was, on the tower above, wherein Ginny and Hermione were reconstructing the emerald atop Slytherin's staff. He reached out with every yearning desire and recalled feeling of oneness that he'd ever had for his brilliant best friend, and in return felt …
Nothing.
Harry delved his hands into his pockets, and jogged casually down the stairs with the others, posture slumped ever so slightly. At that moment, he hated Salazar Slytherin more sincerely than he'd ever hated anyone. The link, the link that he had come to treasure and rely on was gone, severed as easily as a thread snipped with scissors. Hermione… he thought longingly.
"Sod it, Potter!" Malfoy said angrily, snapping Harry out of his gloomy reverie. "No wonder Professor Snape loathes you. You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?"
"He say anything worth hearing?" Harry asked Ron out of the side of his mouth.
"Only if you're him," Ron responded in kind. They were rewarded with a faint pink flush of ire on Malfoy's otherwise pale face.
"I would've expected you, of all people, Potter, to understand the stakes we're playing for here," the Slytherin said cuttingly, fear only barely discernible around the edges of his voice.
"I understand quite well, Malfoy," Harry retorted, "seeing as how I've played this game - successfully - several times now." Malfoy's eyes flitted over Harry's face, as he -oddly enough - appeared to take Harry seriously. It was, the Gryffindor thought, terribly discomposing, to say the least. "Besides," he added, "You're only looking to save your own filthy hide. Let me be the judge of how seriously I'm taking things."
"You've just more to lose," Malfoy sniffed loftily, the brief searching look vanished from his face as if it had never been there at all.
"You're damn straight," Harry said quietly, a determined expression settling over his features like a mask. Ron was looking from one to the other, as if watching a tennis match, but said nothing. Luna drifted regally along behind them like a royal ghost.
In silence, the four of them rounded the corner and entered the large empty chamber that had greeted them on their initial entrance into the castle of Avalon. Harry reflected that it seemed much longer ago than the space of a few short days.
Malfoy stuck his hands casually into his pockets, and looked around the room curiously, as if he were a prospective buyer.
"We… could use some invisibility cloaks," Ron offered hesitantly, making it almost sound like a question. The perimeter of the room seemed to vibrate slightly under a sudden surge of magical power, and a tidy stack of shimmery fabric appeared on the floor nearby. Ron swore under his breath, and reached down to touch the cloaks, as if he could not actually believe in their existence.
"Oh ye of little faith," Malfoy snarked, and Harry looked at him in mild surprise.
"You have a battle plan, Malfoy?" he asked, with raised eyebrows, "Or were you planning on flying by the seat of your pants?"
"I thought that was your job," Malfoy replied pleasantly, albeit with a tight smile. Harry opened his mouth to counter, but was diverted by Luna's gaze going somewhere over his head. Ron followed her look as well, and Harry noted with amazement that all the color drained from Ron's face.
"Oh….no…" his best friend said, and when Harry turned, he was rewarded by a brief flash and vague cognizance of a sort of purple light, before everything exploded in a brilliant haze of glory.
Harry was walking in the very vestibule through which he had just crossed. When he came over the threshold, however, he was not in the large marble-tiled hall, but in a small rustic room, reminiscent of Hagrid's hut. It was rough, low-beamed, and reflective with warm orange firelight.
A lean young man lounged in a wooden chair, his long legs stretched out before the fire. When he saw Harry, he immediately stood, and did so with a kind of feline grace that seemed effortless.
"Hallo," he said, off-handedly, as if unexpected strangers showed up in his cabin all the time.
"Where the hell…?" Harry managed to say, his voice trailing off, as he noted the detailed pictograms on the walls, drawn with what looked like chalk. "Who are you? And how did I get here?"
"The Oracle sent you here. She often operates under knowledge to which not all are privy. She has obviously seen fit to send you to me." The young man said casually, lifting the lid of a vast cauldron, and peering inside curiously. He must have been satisfied with what he saw, for he stirred it once, and lowered the lid again.
"And who are you?" Harry repeated the question that had been ignored. The man - who had the indeterminate good looks of someone who could have been anywhere from 25 to 35 - looked at him in surprise.
"I'm Myrddin, of course." He seemed taken aback, as if it should have been patently obvious.
"You - y - you - " Harry stammered stupidly. "But you're - you're not - "
"Very articulate. Nice to see what the schools are doing these days," Myrddin said. "I'm not old…is that what you were trying to say? Not old, with a long white beard, and tall pointy hat?"
"Yeeess…" Harry drawled hesitantly, feeling a little stupid.
"That's what I'll look like in Arthur's time, apparently. This is not Arthur's time…this is yours."
"But I - "
"Backwards, boy. I'm living through time backwards. I don't suppose you've ever read T. H. White? Well, he didn't get it all right, but he was close."
"So, you're getting… younger?" Harry ventured, wondering it was the heat of the fire making his face blaze.
"Right in one!" Myrddin said, in a triumphant tone. "It is the twentieth century, is it not?" Harry hesitated for a moment, as if making sure that it, in fact, was the twentieth century. "So, what did you want to see me about?" He consulted the cauldron again.
"I didn't want to see you about anything. I just - I went in the Great Hall at Avalon, and then I was here."
"Right…the Oracle," Myrddin said, in a tone of remembering something that had slipped his mind. Harry wondered whether or not Myrddin was a little cracked.
"You try living like this," Myrddin said suddenly, as if Harry had spoken aloud. "You know where the entire world is headed, but they know where you're headed. See if you don't end up a little barmy." Harry knew that his face must have been scarlet.
"Well, there's this dark wizard named Voldemort…" Harry began slowly, but stopped when recognition flashed in Myrddin's face.
"Yes, Voldemort… I've heard of him. You're prophesied to be the one to take him on, aren't you?"
"Do I succeed?" Harry asked, in a sudden flash of inspiration, as he realized that Myrddin had already been in the future.
"Do you really think I can tell you, boy? What if I told you that you defeated him, and then you get all arrogant and swell-headed, thinking that it's a sure thing. Then he defeats you. Or I say that he defeats you, and you run away, and Voldemort takes over the world. There's too much uncertainty there to be playing with time. Plus it'll be all my fault, and I have enough complications in my life, thank you very much. I certainly don't need the guilt."
Harry just blinked at him, feeling as if he'd been walloped upside the head with a bludger bat - or was he having a conversation with Luna Lovegood?
"So, what was it you needed?" Myrddin asked him again, and Harry felt the sudden urge to shake the powerful wizard until his teeth rattled. Myrddin looked at him, with one eyebrow cocked, and Harry felt himself reddening again.
"You seem to have me at a disadvantage," he mumbled.
"What's the point of becoming the greatest wizard in the known world if it doesn't come with perks?" was Myrddin's philosophical response.
"Listen," Harry said, tiring of the rigamarole, "we - some friends of mine and I - are trapped on Avalon. We've a way out, but it will lead us straight to Voldemort. We could use some help."
"If you could have anything in the world right now, what would you choose?" Myrddin said suddenly, as if he'd not heard Harry at all.
Harry sucked in his breath, and the delicious communion of his mind with Hermione's, emotions intertwined and interlocked, flashed briefly in his thoughts. He replied instead,
"To rid the world of Voldemort, of course," he said.
"Liar," Myrddin crowed, stirring the cauldron. "It was this - what was her name - Hermione?" Harry finally nodded a little reluctantly.
"The defeat of Voldemort is what I should want," he said. "It - it benefits everyone. Our future together won't be worth much, if he's still around."
"Nevertheless, the heart wants what it wants," Myrddin said airily. He fluttered his hand in Harry's direction, asking, "Was there anything else?"
"Anything else?" Harry said, his tone clearly conveying that Myrddin hadn't done much of anything yet. Myrddin smiled at him, and Harry was very uncomfortable with the fact that the wizard could apparently read his mind without thinking twice.
"What do you know of the Claviomnis?" he asked, more out of desperation than a sincere desire to learn anything.
"The what?" Myrddin asked blankly, and Harry belatedly realized that he wouldn't have invented it…
yet. The Boy Who Lived rubbed his temples to ward off a headache. "Is that the device that I'm
supposed to create in honor of Viviane? From the stones of Avalon itself? I've read that I'll
do an excellent job of it." His voice was merry.
"Wait…it's from the stones of Avalon?" Harry said.
"That's what I've heard. Haven't actually made it yet, of course. But then again, I already have."
"Yeah…" Harry said weakly.
"There are many beautiful caves in Normandy, you know. You should see them, if you chance to go there."
"To… Normandy?" Harry said. Myrddin jumped around too much for him to be able to keep up properly. It was amazingly like a conversation with Dumbledore, actually. The other wizard looked at him critically.
"You do seem rather dull. I fully blame the educational system. If you're the one destined to take on Voldemort, I rather hope you move faster than you have today." Harry wrinkled his brow, taking offense at Myrddin's off-hand insults.
"Harmony of purpose," the wizard mumbled to himself, adding something green and sparkly to the cauldron. "It's a lovely concept, isn't it? Powerful, yet so hard to achieve."
"I don't - " Harry began, but the purple light began to swirl around him, and Myrddin's cabin began to rotate, as if it were being sucked down some kind of cosmic drain. "Can I find you - in my time? You're still alive?"
"Oh yes, I'm very much alive. But you won't be able to find me. I've read that no one has yet - or will be able to." He shook his head. "This whole time thing is very much a bother."
"Wait! If I - could you - " Harry stammered. Myrddin was very far away, and seemed not at all concerned that Harry was disappearing.
"It's your destiny, not mine. Mine's already happened, you see - or will happen, depending on how you look at it. Can't help you."
The last thing Harry heard was the noisy clank of the cauldron lid as it was set back down into place.
He staggered a little on the marbled floor of the Great Hall, sucking in a great noisy breath of air.
"Bloody hell, Harry," Ron said. "Where the hell'd you go?" Malfoy and Luna were watching them with detached interest.
"I saw - I saw - Merlin… Merlin himself," Harry said. "Only he was young, and he - he's, I mean he's young now, and he gets old…before…" He trailed off, as he saw the befuddled look on Ron's face. His mind sifted frantically through the various odd things Merlin had said, hoping to find something useful.
"Normandy," Harry said suddenly, fastening onto that word with all the mental strength he could muster. He whirled toward Draco. "Is that where the Portkey takes us?" Malfoy raked him with a sardonic glance.
"How the hell did you know that?" the Slytherin asked, not even bothering to deny it.
"Merlin said - Merlin said the caves - there were caves. It - and the Claviomnis… Gryffindor took it to his family estate in Normandy… right before the Time Turner brought us back."
"Then Hermione was right," Luna said quietly, darting a rather smug glance at Malfoy. "The Claviomnis is important. Voldemort wants it." She looked at Harry pensively. "And he wants you to get it for him."
"What makes him think I can get it?" Harry asked, thinking about the way Hermione had called it to her, when they had been contacting Luna. He met the Ravenclaw's gaze, and knew that they were both thinking the same thing.
"You are the heir of Gryffindor," Luna said placidly, her dark blue eyes practically boring a hole in Harry. "Who would be able to get it, if not you?"
Ron had been standing motionless, a puzzled look on his face, and appeared to be mouthing something over and over.
"Ron?" Harry asked. "You all right?"
"Normandy!" Ron said, with an air of excited realization. "It wasn't Mindy at all. In my vision, the voice said Normandy. There was a man, in scarlet robes, hiding a box."
A memory of Gryffindor striding across the footbridge, his red robes gleaming in the torchlight, floated into Harry's consciousness.
"Then we've got to go…soon," Harry said determinedly. "If Voldemort already suspects where the Claviomnis is hidden - " he shook his head. "He cannot find it first." The other three students looked back at him, even Malfoy looking uncharacteristically solemn and worried. "At least we've got a bargaining chip… we know he wants the staff. And - and there's always - always - "
"Always what, Harry?" Ron asked curiously.
"Always him, Weaselby," Malfoy snorted. "Most Noble Potter, heir of Gryffindor, is willing to give up his sorry life, if it means keeping Voldemort from the Claviomnis. Aren't we lucky to know him?" He had one hand on his breastbone, as if giving an oration.
Harry was distracted by Hermione's horrified cry from the doorway, and turned toward her, so missing Ron lunging for Draco and punching him in the jaw.
"Ron!" shrieked Ginny, and together, she and Luna struggled to separate them. Harry stood motionless, staring at Hermione, transfixed, watching in mute agony as her eyes filled.
"Hermione, I - " he began, wanting desperately to explain that he did not desire to throw his life away, but that he understood that some things were bigger than oneself - and this was one of those things.
"I know, Harry," she whispered, hoarsely through her tears. "If you didn't feel - if you weren't willing to - to - " she couldn't say it. "Then you wouldn't be the Harry Potter that I love so much."
"I love you too," Harry replied, reaching for her, as she moved willingly into his arms. He kissed her gently and longingly on the lips, a kiss born of desperate yearning.
"Nice to see you're worried about me," Ron quipped. They broke the kiss, slightly embarrassed, and looked over to see their other best friend straightening his shirt. Luna and Ginny had their wands out, and were looking menacingly at Draco.
"He's the one who hit me first," Draco protested, in the lofty manner of one feeling the inequity of the situation. He rubbed the swiftly reddening mark on his jaw, with an injured air.
"You deserved it," Hermione said flatly, surprising Harry. Malfoy's eyes narrowed.
"Is the emerald ready?"
"It's perfect," Hermione replied, glowering right back at him. "I defy you to find anything amiss with the copy."
"I'm not the one who's going to be looking at it," Draco predicted darkly, and the ominous thought gave everyone in the room pause. "Now, Potter, I believe you were asking me about my battle plan," he added pleasantly. "I'll have the staff, of course. Lovegood, you've done it before - if I pull the coordinates out of this portkey, can you make one? With slightly different coordinates?" Luna nodded with confidence. "Better if everyone doesn't appear at once - you'll be better able to assess the situation, and figure out where you're needed. They know where I'll appear, but we won't know where they are. We need every advantage we can get. And everyone but Potter should be under the cloaks."
"If I'm not under a cloak, then where will I be?" Harry said, almost as if he already knew the answer.
"You'll be my prisoner, of course."
A loud cacophony of voices greeted Draco's pronouncement with utter disagreement and disbelief.
"Like bloody hell he will!" Ron said hotly. "You're bloody well taking us to Voldemort, and we're going to put Harry at your mercy? Like hell!" he repeated.
"If it makes you feel better, Weasley, you can have me in your sights under that cloak," Draco said in a long-suffering voice. "Voldemort's going to have to be convinced that everything's going his way. If he suspects anything, I'll be AK'd before I can blink twice."
"Big loss," Ron said bitingly, and Malfoy froze. The two of them stared at each other for a long moment.
"He's right," Harry finally said heavily, breaking the tension. "Voldemort knows that Malfoy'd have to fight me to get the other half of the staff. It only makes sense that he would present me to Voldemort, once he had me under control."
"What if that is what he's doing, Harry?" Ron protested. "He's playing like he's on our side, but what if that's been his plan all along?"
"There's no way to know for sure, Ron," Harry admitted. "But we've really no other choice."
Malfoy held his hand out to Ginny, who rather reluctantly handed him the staff. Luna began to hand people invisibility cloaks.
"Potter, give me your wand," Malfoy said imperiously, tucking the staff into a fold of his robes.
"You can't leave him unarmed!" Hermione said in alarm. "Let him have it in his pocket or something." She hated the pleading tone that entered her voice, but begging Malfoy was a small price to pay for Harry's safety.
"If Voldemort has wards up, they'll detect whether or not Harry has his wand," Malfoy said stubbornly. "If he finds that I allowed Harry to keep it, the game's over."
"If there are wards up, they'll detect our portkeys as well," Hermione informed him levelly. Draco met her gaze squarely and without faltering.
"So they will," he admitted, continuing as Ron opened his mouth to protest again. "That's why you have the cloaks, after all." The others regarded him for a moment, clearly not liking the piecemeal fashion in which they were receiving information. Malfoy hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting over them all, and drifting back to Harry and Hermione. "He wants the Claviomnis. Badly. He knows Potter is the Heir of Gryffindor now, or at least, he will once he has the staff whole. He thinks that Potter can find it for him." Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Harry stepped squarely on her foot, and Malfoy continued without noticing. "Whether or not you can, I surely hope that you can bluff long enough for us to extricate ourselves from this situation." The last sentence was said in that bland Malfoy drawl that they all knew so well.
"Isn't extricating sort of your forte?" Ginny asked lightly, and Ron smirked.
"We don't have a lot of time," Harry interrupted. "Voldemort might have gone to Normandy as soon as we disappeared. He cannot find that stone."
Icy gray eyes met brilliant green ones. The usual dislike and contempt simmered in the air between them, as well as something else that Hermione could not quite put her finger on.
"Then I guess we're done talking," Malfoy said casually, striking out with a lightening-quick reflex, punching Harry twice in rapid succession. With the second hit, there was an audible crunching of cartilage, and blood spurted from Harry's nose. Harry made a kind of strangled exclamation in the back of his throat, and Hermione and Ginny both let out incoherent cries of protest. Luna's sparkling eyes flitted from one to the other, enigmatically, while Ron twitched toward them, but did not otherwise move. Malfoy deftly disarmed Harry, and tucked his wand away in the folds of his robe, then grabbed Harry by the hair, twisting it around to bring Harry toward him, eliciting an involuntary cry of pain.
"Your wand is in my right pocket," he hissed in Harry's ear, never letting go of his tight grip on Harry's hair. Harry's knees buckled slightly, trying to ease some of the pressure on his scalp, even as blood trickled over his mouth and chin.
"It might be easier if you weren't enjoying this so much," he rasped, reaching up to try to stanch the blood flow with the back of one hand, but not making it before Draco used Incarcerous on him.
"I would have let you hit me too, Potter," Malfoy said in a tone of faint disappointment. "But Weasley saw fit to take care of that for you." With Harry bound, he removed the staff from his robes, and pulled a long glowing strand from the cracked place, with his wand. Tiny numbers gleamed faintly in the light. "Here's a copy of the coordinates. Find a couple of things you can use as portkeys - " As he spoke, a small cup and an inkwell shimmered into view on the marble floor. Malfoy paid them no heed. "And try not to come in on top of us, will you?"
He moved back to Harry's side, and grabbed his hair again, forcing him to stand at an awkward angle. Harry saw the pain in Hermione's gaze, and felt his eyes swimming with the force of everything he wanted to give voice to, and yet could not.
"Harry, I - " Hermione cried out, but Draco had slammed the end of the staff into the floor, where it thudded resoundingly, activating the button concealed within.
Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy vanished.
ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss
They reappeared in a wooded area, where the dull orange of the dying sun glinted through the trees, and made it difficult for them to see. Malfoy gripped Harry's hair painfully, as they both struggled to reorient themselves.
And then came a voice that Harry had hoped futilely to never hear again.
"Mr. Malfoy," said the high-pitched voice, sounding unmistakably pleased. "I see you have brought at least part of what I requested. Now where is Slytherin's staff?"
"Here, my lord," Malfoy replied, in a voice that was carefully steady. He reached inside his robe, and withdrew the staff, handing it to a masked Death Eater, without releasing his grip on Harry. The aide carried the staff across both hands, parallel to the ground, and dropped to one knee before Voldemort, offering it to him deferentially. Harry thought he was going to be sick.
Voldemort caressed the top of the staff, lovingly, watching the way the emerald reflected the rays of the waning sun.
"And now, Mr. Potter, there is something I'd like you to do for me - before we get around to the business of that prophecy," he said politely, as if asking Harry for a favor.
"What prophecy?" Harry blustered, spitting blood out of his mouth, and trying to lower his head enough to look at Voldemort directly. Malfoy's grip on his hair was making his eyes water.
"And still we pretend…" Voldemort replied with an almost paternal smile, a tsk-tsk tone evident in his voice. "There is a certain artifact. I know that you - " He was interrupted in whatever he had been on the verge of saying by a sudden clamor behind him.
"Master!" Another anonymous Death Eater stepped up, whispering something in the Dark Lord's ear that neither boy could catch. Harry figured it was word that something - multiple portkeys, to be exact - had tripped the wards. Voldemort had jerked his head up violently, and muttered some orders that had the lackey moving quickly back into the shadow, where, Harry assumed, more Death Eaters were waiting.
Then Voldemort's red eyes flitted carefully back to where Malfoy stood, ostensibly still guarding Harry. Malfoy had finally released Harry's hair, but from their close proximity, Harry could see the increased pace of Draco's breathing.
"Mr. Malfoy, suddenly I am reminded that we have business together that has never been taken care of." The tone of his voice was low and dangerous, and Harry felt a lead weight in the pit of his stomach. His palms grew clammy.
"Business, my lord?" Draco managed to say without stammering. Surreptitiously, Harry began to reach towards Draco's side, hoping that the billows of his robe mostly concealed his straining fingers. The ropes held his arms fast at his sides though, and he was afraid to go much further, and risk falling over.
"Your father tells me that you have not yet taken the Mark. Shall we do that now?" His red eyes gleamed malevolently, reflecting the last dull red rays of the sun, as it began to sink beyond the horizon.
"Now, sir? But, with Potter here, I - "
"Do you dare to question me?" The voice was still polite, but had started to take on a distinctly flinty edge.
"Of course not, my lord. If that - if that - is your wish, then…" He brushed carefully by Harry, and for one instant, Harry felt the smooth wood of his wand beneath his fingers. He clasped his hand around it, and pulled, trying quickly to push it beneath the ropes, out of sight. Malfoy, for his part, never looked back at him, walking steadily toward the Dark Lord himself, whose face was darkening with deepening suspicion. There was commotion unseen in the woods, apparently Death Eaters hunting for those who had triggered the alarms.
Hermione, where the hell are you? Harry found himself thinking plaintively.
We're here, Harry. The beloved voice rang in his ears like the most familiar and soothing of melodies. The shock and delight ran through him like electric current, and he knew that Hermione felt it too, for she asked in concern:
Harry, are you all right?
He did it, Harry thought with wonderment. He could sense Hermione bewilderment, and explained. Myrddin - that's who I saw in the Oracle's vision. He asked me what I wanted most in the world, and he gave it to me. A pang of sadness and guilt went through him. If only he'd wanted - really wanted - Voldemort's defeat above all else.
Harry, please tell me you're okay, Hermione asked again, feeling his sadness, but not understanding the reason behind it.
I'm fine. Voldemort knows something's up though. He's making Malfoy take the Mark.
Now? He felt the waves of horror from her.
Now, he thought grimly. He clutched his wand more firmly, and thought fiercely, Finite Incantatem. Almost instantly, he felt the ropes loosen, and sweet relief flooded him briefly. However, he was still in the clear line of sight of more than one Death Eater, plus Voldemort, and he was sure there were anti-Apparation wards up.
Just as he was contemplating what to do next, he heard Voldemort's hissing voice say,
"Bring Potter to me." One of the Death Eaters grabbed Harry roughly above the elbow, and all but dragged him up to where Voldemort and Draco stood together. "I'm sure by now you've figured out what I want," he said cordially to Harry.
"I can't say I have the privilege," Harry said loftily, causing Voldemort's eyes to flash with annoyance.
"I want it," Voldemort whispered menacingly, leaning down close to Harry. "And you're going to get it for me."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said with effort, trying to keep the loosened ropes from falling down around him. He finally had to perform a wordless Incarcerous on himself, and felt the bonds tighten around him once again.
Hermione, you need to get the others and just get out of here. I don't think we can take on all of them. You should go, quickly - please!
I'm not leaving you, Harry, came her reply, tinged with panic. His eyes roved randomly in the growing twilight, wondering where she was concealed.
If you love me, Hermione, you'll go. If anything happened to you… Her disappointment seeped over to him like a bitter wound.
Then we'll go… she said slowly, and he felt her presence fade away from his mind.
"Is that your final word, Mr. Potter?" Voldemort asked, sounding almost jovial.
"It's the truth," Harry ground out from between clenched teeth. His nose was throbbing, and he was sure that his eye was blackening and starting to swell.
"Very well then. You have elected the harder way to accomplish this, it would seem. Draco!" He called out suddenly, and the Slytherin snapped to attentiveness. "Your first task as one of my most trusted followers, after taking the Mark, will be to get that information out of Harry Potter." Malfoy's eyes swung over Voldemort's shoulder to meet the horrified gaze of his long-time nemesis.
"My lord, I would - wouldn't someone more experienced be - " Malfoy stammered, and Harry found himself feeling almost sorry for his erstwhile archrival. Voldemort smiled, a tight-lipped, unpleasant affair, and said, almost lightly,
"You seem to be under the mistaken impression that I made a request. I've had my doubts about where your allegiances lie for quite some time, Mr. Malfoy." He made a quick gesture with his wand, and a struggling figure was brought into the circle. A Death Eater held her tightly, with his wand pointed at her slender white neck.
"Mum…" Draco breathed in horror, and Harry knew true fear. Malfoy looked at the Gryffindor with a detached, vague gaze, and said distantly, "Expelliarmus!" Harry felt his wand slip from his ineffectual fingers.
"Crucio!" Voldemort said suddenly, pointing at Draco, who went down into the fetal position, writhing in pain and screaming helplessly.
"Stop it! Stop it!" Narcissa Malfoy sobbed, fighting the one who restrained her. Voldemort lifted the curse, and smiled down at the quivering, panting boy at his feet.
"Perhaps you'll learn to be more careful about letting prisoners have access to their wands. Stand up!" Malfoy got shakily to his feet, barely able to remain upright. Voldemort grabbed his arm, and twisted it abruptly, revealing the smooth white skin of his forearm. Harry watched in sickened fascination, as the Dark Mark was etched on the unmarred skin by Voldemort's wand. The acrid smell of burning flesh reached Harry's nostrils, and he noted that Draco was biting his lower lip so hard that he'd drawn blood.
Hermione, Harry thought wistfully. If only he hadn't sent her away.
"Now, Lucius," Voldemort said, almost cheerfully. "Show your son what you'll do to his mother, if he does not succeed in his appointed task to break Harry Potter."
The cries of Narcissa and Draco Malfoy blended harshly and horribly in Harry's ears, drifting upward to a deaf, uncaring twilit sky.
TBC
AN: I can't apologize enough for the long delay before this update was posted. My muse just abandoned me completely. I had to threaten it with bodily harm just to get this written. In any case, there should be one more chapter, with an epilogue following.
(And no, Hermione's not really gone. Did you really think she was?)
lorien
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