The Deceiver’s Distillation

The Deceiver’s Distillation

by Jardyn39

Summary

In the holidays after his Sixth Year, Harry returns to Hogwarts after spending a few days at Privet Drive in some unusual company. He is joined by Ron and Hermione, but before he can confide his plans they will need to be tested. Will the Deceiver’s Distillation reveal an impostor?

Chapter 1 – Prologue

A few days after Dumbledore’s funeral ….

As the black coloured smoked glass Range Rover drove in through the vehicle lock, each member of the elite team inside was quiet and observant. They would be in and out again before most people knew they had even visited.

As usual, the team had been brought into the Establishment to act as prisoners intent upon escape. Well, that was the idea anyway. In practise, no one dared to either question them about their methods nor indeed attempt search them to make sure they hadn’t tried to smuggle in any escape aids.

The car weaved slowly between the security fences behind the walking escort. Close circuit cameras followed their progress all the way around past the accommodation wings to a small compound at the rear. The large pair of gates was opened by a waiting official.

Once the gate was locked behind them, the doors of the car opened and the team disembarked. They had parked in a position that could not be overlooked by any windows, although they would still be in clear view of the cameras.

The uniformed escort that had walked them into the compound hung back while another suited man came over.

“Good morning,” he said with a smile. “I’m the Head of Works. The Governor One is inside, but if there is any information you need, you might like to ask me. This escort will stay by your car. No one is authorised to come into this compound while you are here.”

Sergeant John “Bear” Bateman smiled and extended his hand. He much preferred to deal with the lower ranking Governors, and today there was the bonus of no pretence at formal introductions. This Head of Works clearly had experience of similar visits, and this was confirmed by the length of his key chain swinging from his belt.

“This is some kind of an association building?” asked Bateman and they walked towards the pair of heavy grille gates.

“The new extension is, yes, but there are also inmate workshops and interview rooms in the existing building.”

The Head of Works unlocked the gate and ushered them inside before locking the gate behind them. He proved the lock before walking to the front of the group again.

“The new extension is a multi-use facility. Construction has finished but we’re only about halfway through commissioning. The Building Contractor left site around a week ago, after the usual dog searches. The Governor plans to occupy this building in a week or so.”

“What else will you need to complete before you open?”

“Not much. Probably just a few pinboards. I’ve left you some tables and seats of the type we’ll be using, as well as several sets of inmate clothing and items they might have access to. Inmates should never be left alone for more than one hour in this building, so that’s how long you’ll have.

“To be honest,” he added with half a grin, “I was surprised you were even going to bother with this one. We’re not exactly the highest security Establishment within the Estate, are we?”

Bateman shrugged, still looking around. “We just got ordered here. They don’t let us pick and choose.”

*

Bateman didn’t need to be asked to keep the damage they needed to do to a minimum. He knew these places hardly had enough funding to afford new facilities, let alone carry out repairs after escape attempts. Of course, Bateman knew they would do whatever they needed to in order to achieve their objective, but they wouldn’t go silly.

Not unless they were really provoked.

That is what he’d spent most of the morning telling his team members, anyway. Bateman’s time honoured method of “telling” consisted of shouting quite a lot.

He really didn’t want another reprimand like the one he’d got for their last jaunt. Stealing that Governor’s car and using it as a battering ram hadn’t gone down at all well. It wouldn’t have been too bad, except than it had been parked outside the perimeter wall when they found it.

Bateman’s colleagues in the Sergeant’s Mess had been ribbing him about that little incident for weeks now. Few others dared mention it though, at least within earshot of him.

Unfortunately, this present Establishment’s Governor was hardly endearing himself to the team, insisting upon introducing himself to each of them. This was difficult when they were under standing orders to remain anonymous to all outsiders.

The pair of steel grille gates were slammed shut with a loud clang and locked. The last thing Bateman saw was the smug grin of the Governor as he closed and locked the outer doors. Bateman made a mental note to mention the Governor’s failure to prove the gate lock in his report.

“Someone’s got a bet on us not getting out of here in time,” Duke, the second in command, muttered.

“That’ll do,” Bateman said warningly, although he privately agreed. “Perimeter.”

The four quickly spread out to examine the area. Bateman just stood still, looking upwards. He had decided how they were going to get out the instant he’d walked inside. The walls were concrete or heavy masonry. They could get through them, but not in under an hour, not without anything heavy. All the doors had secure grille gates and the windows all had strong grilles.

The others quickly returned.

“Roof,” they all agreed.

The roof void was open and the roof trusses looked like they would be an excellent climbing aid. The problem was getting up to them. The bottom cords of the steel roof trusses were al least six metres above the ground and there were no obvious means of climbing up there.

Bateman smiled as the other four quietly brought over the two folded tables stacked against the far wall. These were assembled while four overalls were converted into a makeshift rope.

That was one of the things Bateman liked about working within the Regiment. He never needed to shout orders while they were actually on a mission. Training was different, of course, but out in the field his men never failed to impress.

Fifteen minutes later, the five of them were carefully making their way across the pitched roof, having prised back the security mesh using part of the folding table leg assembly. Bateman would have taken this anyway, as it always gave him great satisfaction to leave the Establishment baffled how they managed to climb up using a table with only two legs.

Bateman gave a hand signal, confirming they needed to remain in the blind spot of the next camera.

They would be headed for the ancillary vehicle lock now. Bateman planned to escape cleanly from the Establishment, not just from the building they had been secured within.

“Have you any idea how much that roof cost?”

They spun around to see an unassuming suited man who had addressed them from the fire escape overlooking the roofs.

“I think we can assume you have escaped within the time period,” he said smiling. “I thought the idea was only to get out of the building within an hour? Why don’t you come down this way?”

He turned and exited through the door.

“Who was he?”

“I’ve seen ‘im on the news. Doesn’t he manage some football team?”

“No, you idiot,” said an exasperated Bateman, “although to be honest, I didn’t know he did roof inspections as well.”

*

They arrived back in the large association room just in time to see the Governor pass a Twenty Pound note to the Prime Minister’s Private Secretary, who immediately came over to greet them.

The Governor quickly exited looking rather sheepish.

“Well done,” he said smiling. “My name is Shacklebolt. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t get any more than this out of him.”

Shacklebolt handed Bateman the Twenty. Bateman smirked and handed it to Duke.

The Prime Minister came over and handed Bateman a Ministry of Defence envelope.

“My apologies for interrupting your fun,” he said smiling and shaking Bateman’s hand, “but I wanted to speak to you without anyone knowing. You will see from your orders that you are now on detached duties until further notice. You all come highly recommended, and the task I have for you is dangerous and will require all your skills.”

Bateman ripped open the envelope and read the short orders.

“Excuse me, Sir, but there are no specifics here.”

“That is because only the seven of us, and possibly two more, can know of your activities. Kingsley here will introduce you to your principal and explain what is required.”

“But we may need ordnance and equipment.”

“You may have any resource we have except more manpower, or at least manpower that knows what you are doing.”

“But what?” Duke began to say.

Bateman turned to give Duke a stern look. Duke had the good sense to look apologetic for speaking out of turn.

“Close protection,” answered Kingsley. “But it will be dangerous. Very dangerous.”

The Deceiver’s Distillation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 2 - A Lakeside Run

It was midmorning in the middle of July when the sound of an argument from across the Hogwarts lake reached the ears of Sergeant Bateman and four of his subordinates who were currently relaxing on an odd assortment of outsized, broken and burnt furniture.

Bateman scanned the far side of the lake and soon caught sight of his remaining two men and their rather reluctant charge, who was currently objecting loudly to being taken on a forced run.

Duke sniggered as they watched.

“Get your bayonets out,” muttered Careem to more sniggers.

No sooner than he said that there was a flash of bright metal in the distance. The sound of the argument instantly ceased and the run continued.

“Isn’t he going the wrong way?” commented Hope with a laugh, brushing a hand over her close cropped scalp.

“Tosser,” added Carlyle derisively.

“Language,” warned Bateman with a smile on his face.

As the three runners cleared the last clump of trees, Bateman’s eyes fell on the boy sitting in the enormous blackened armchair a few feet away from them.

Bateman studied him as he read intently, occasionally making notes.

Bateman was no stranger to carrying out unusual and covert tasks, but even he had difficulty getting his mind around their current situation.

Their orders were simple.

Protect the boy at all costs. Follow the boy’s orders if possible. Lethal force authorised until further notice. Keep no records. Operate outside the chain of command. Report only to PM’s private office.

There was nothing new in this kind of orders, as such, except perhaps for taking orders from the principal.

What was very unusual were the circumstances in which they had been given their orders.

No less than five covert operations cells had undergone physical and mental testing for this assignment. In the end his team was expanded to include a female operative and a weapons specialist.

This wasn’t that unusual, but Bateman never liked splitting the teams up. Everyone had to trust one another, especially when instant orders had to be issued and complied with.

Still, it made sense. Two people with responsibility to protect one person, and Bateman providing additional support as needed.

Bateman was himself the eldest of the group by far, but his experience more than made up for slightly longer times on the training circuits.

It often amused him to think back on his times in the regular army. He hadn’t exactly been an ideal soldier, constantly at odds with his so called superiors. He had only applied to the special forces Regiment on an off chance, but once he was in he found himself totally at home.

In this Regiment, suggestions and criticisms of planned actions were actually invited, within reason.

It rather shocked him to realise that he was actually becoming used to being around people who could do magic. He suspected, though, that he may have encountered magic before. His best friend of some years, Jack Gurnet had carried the wounded Bateman out of the African savanna to demand treatment form a tribal witch doctor. Both of them had expected his wounds to be fatal, but somehow he survived. Even his symptoms of malaria, which he’d contracted many years before, appeared to have eased after that.

Bateman looked down at his watch, but he knew the time before he saw the face.

“The train is due in half and hour,” he said quietly, but he was pleased to see that Hope and Carlyle were already sorting themselves out to meet the train.

They jogged off, Carlyle smiling and looking backwards hoping to catch the end of the forced run.

Bateman’s mind wandered back to a fortnight ago. His five strong team had been ordered to attend one of Her Majesty’s Prisons to test some new security features installed. This didn’t happen that often, but it was often a laugh from their point of view.

At the time, Bateman had been concerned though. Why on earth select a team so rigorously when even your poorest team could do the job just as well.

Bateman should have known there was something weird about this latest assignment. Why on earth would you need Special Forces to protect someone in England? Didn’t Special Branch do that kind of thing?

And why did the Prime Minister of all people insist upon making sure every individual was up for the task, even serving them teas in the staff canteen and answering every question he was able to. These were mostly about football, of course, but he didn’t seem to mind that much.

Mind you, Bateman reflected, some of his team were possible a little more confused that they should be, wondering why a football manager was giving them orders to kill if necessary on home soil.

Harry Potter closed his book and looked up, staring across the lake to the white marble tomb.

Bateman thought the boy looked fit to drop. He was sure he hadn’t slept properly in days, but he wore an attitude of fierce determination. Whatever this boy was fighting had better watch out.

Harry hitched a grin on his face just as his red headed friend dropped heavily at his feet, panting with exhaustion.

“Harry,” he gasped, “these people are insane. That one actually threatened to bayonet me!”

His two running companions looked down at the prone figure looking utterly unimpressed.

Harry leaned forward and said in what he clearly hoped was an encouraging voice, “Don’t worry, Ron. The first lap was the hardest for me too. The next five will be much easier.”

“Five!?”

The other two grabbed a protesting Ron and lifted him to his feet to continue their run.

Bateman watched Harry’s slightly pained expression as they set off again.

Just then, a large shadow made its way down to the water line.

“Hi, Hagrid,” said Harry, this time with a genuine smile.

“Alright, you lot,” he replied.

“I hope you don’t mind us borrowing your furniture like this,” said Harry, getting up.

“No problem. No’ much left, is there?” said Hagrid with half a laugh. “Slughorn says everything will be ready in the Great Hall for lunchtime. If it’s okay, I’d like to meet Hermione from the train. She might be a li’l upset being met by strangers.”

“Good idea, Hagrid. Thanks. I’m going back up to the castle.”

Duke and Careem jumped to their feet at these words.

“No, it’s okay, guys,” said Harry. “Stay and enjoy the sun while you can. I’ll be safe in the castle.”

“No,” said Bateman quietly. “They go with you. You need to get used to them and they need to learn from you.”

Harry shrugged and walked off. His two shadows followed at a discrete distance, hands almost lazily resting on loaded automatic weapons, and constantly looking around.

Bateman turned to see Hagrid grinning at him.

“Kingsley said you lot could ‘andle yourselves. I recon ‘es right.”

Bateman smiled.

“Now, you are goin’ t’ go easier on, Hermione, aren’t you? I know Harry’s become suddenly keen on runs before dawn an’ stuff, but our Hermione has always put brains afore brawn.”

Bateman’s smile faltered. Bateman was not known for going easy on anybody, but it was rather tempting to agree to anything when the person asking happened to be as large as Hagrid was.

“Um, I have my orders.”

“Well,” said Hagrid turning, “you do as you see fit. Mind you, we may have to have words later. Keep tha’ in mind.”

As Hagrid walked off, Bateman once again thought, as he generally did with everybody he met, how best to kill him. Of course, Bateman had no intention of hurting anyone, but it never hurt to be prepared. Usually, he decided his kill method within seconds.

He was still pondering with Hagrid.

*

Harry climbed all the way up to the Seventh Floor. Duke and Careem followed quietly, having correctly assumed that Harry wouldn’t tolerate their antics this morning.

Ever since Kingsley had turned up with these men, nothing had been simple.

He couldn’t even go into a room without them checking it out first, guns out. Invariably, something always got broken.

Since the things that had been broken had been at Privet Drive and belonged to the Dursleys, Harry wasn’t too bothered. Number Four had appeared to become rather smaller when seven fully armed and equipped soldiers moved in with Harry.

He knew he should be grateful.

Kingsley had explained that the Prime Minister had demanded to know what was really going on and had offered the services of some of the country’s best service personnel.

Harry was grateful, really.

He’d been especially grateful that the first thing they did was to pack the Dursleys off somewhere. That was just as well. Aunt Petunia would have a fit if she had seen the tripod mounted machine gun stripped down on her pristine dining room table.

He was also grateful of some company, even if they did insist upon trying to teach him martial arts and gun use.

This actually achieved little apart from cause even more damage, particularly as they couldn’t practise outdoors. As large as the living room was, even after Kingsley magically expanded it, it really wasn’t suitable for combat training.

In the beginning, Harry had repaired the worst of the damage, but after a while he gave up. Still, at least he wasn’t bothered about Ministry warnings now. He still was underage, technically, but Rufus Scrimgeour himself had agreed to ignore any transgressions from now on.

Every evening and every morning, Kingsley would come to the house unannounced and attempt to attack Harry.

Harry and his protectors had no forewarning of this. Bateman had applauded this approach, but Harry wasn’t so sure.

He had been mortified to see Kingsley lying in the middle of the living room, hit by two gunshot wounds, a knife stab and Harry’s own combination of stunning hexes. Blood was everywhere, but Kingsley was howling with laughter as he quickly repaired his own injuries.

“You could have been killed,” Harry had said furiously. “I’m not ready to lose you so soon after-”

“You have to be ready,” said Kingsley defiantly. “What?”

Bateman had been staring at them both, looking utterly stunned at what Harry had done as well as the fact that Kingsley was apparently able to cure himself.

“We weren’t aiming to wound,” he admitted. “We were trying to kill you.”

“Quite right too,” agreed Kingsley, letting Harry help him up.

“How on earth did you get in here, anyway?”

Kingsley looked at Harry with a curious expression.

“I haven’t told them about Apparition,” admitted Harry.

Kingsley had placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder and said gently, “They have to know what it is they are fighting against. I suggest you tell them everything.”

Up on the Seventh floor, Harry paused and thought.

“I need Dumbledore’s messages for me.”

Instantly, a highly polished door appeared.

Duke swore, still totally unaccustomed to seeing such things.

“Will you two be okay waiting outside for me?” asked Harry. “You can come in but some of what’s in there is very delicate and irreplaceable. This is the only exit, although it may vanish once I’m inside.”

Careem and Duke assumed their positions either side of the door and Harry entered.

Inside was a single desk and table. The walls were lined with dozens of shelves, each holding several glowing glass orbs.

On the desk was Dumbledore’s Pensieve, an ink bottle and some quills and a small stack of red notebooks.

Harry sat and opened the top notebook. He checked a date from a list inside the front cover and then retrieved the dated orb from a shelf behind him.

Taking out his wand, Harry broke the seal and allowed the memory to flow into the Pensieve.

Harry put down the glass orb and sighed. There weren’t many memories left. He’d been here almost every chance he had. He had hoped to get some greater insight, but he had been disappointed so far. Clearly, Dumbledore didn’t feel that Harry needed to know all his confidences and suspicions.

Harry had found several broken orbs too. Presumably these were memories that were too sensitive or too dangerous to leave lying around.

He wondered once again if they had once contained what he was looking for.

The Deceiver’s Distillation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 3 –

Hermione’s Idea

At around midday, Harry left the Room of Requirement and returned downstairs. Once again, he hadn’t found anything particularly useful. Indeed he found himself visiting, for perhaps the fifth time, one of the more puzzling memories left by Dumbledore.

The first time he had come across this particular memory, Harry had waited expectantly for something to happen. Only it didn’t. The memory consisted entirely of Dumbledore sitting reading at his desk.

Harry persevered, though. Dumbledore wouldn’t have bothered to save this particular memory for no reason at all, eccentric as he was sometimes.

He had to admit, though, that even being in the same room with Dumbledore in quiet contemplation was something of a comfort to Harry.

Harry set about trying to work out what the memory was about. The first and most obvious thing he did was read what Dumbledore was reading. There were only two things on his desk. One was a cutting from the Daily prophet and the other appeared to be a report from the Ministry. Both concerned the same thing, the sudden and unexpected disappearance of Ollivander from Diagon Alley the previous summer.

Harry read the report and realised that this contained little more information than the newspaper article had. It did though confirm that there had been no struggle in the shop and no sign of a break in.

He didn’t really know if Ollivander was a friend of Dumbledore. They certainly corresponded, but were they friends?

It only occurred to Harry on perhaps his third complete viewing of the memory, that Dumbledore’s face was rather stern as he read. Was this a sign of concern over a missing friend, or were long held suspicions being confirmed.

Harry had never heard anyone say anything bad about Ollivander, and his wands were widely considered the best that money could buy.

Still, Harry was reminded of the time Ollivander had told him about his wand. He wasn’t sure if he liked Ollivander then, and he still wasn’t sure. He still wondered where the Death Eater wands came from, particularly belonging to those that broke out of Azkaban.

Harry reached the foot of the stairs and headed towards the Great Hall, but was intercepted by Professor McGonagall.

Seeing her accusatory expression, Harry held his hands up and said, “I know. I know.”

“I don’t approve,” she said unnecessarily.

“We have to be sure. I have to be sure.”

“You are taking quite a risk, in my opinion. You risk alienating your friends.”

Harry sighed and nodded. It was true.

“Look, I’ll explain it to them as best I can. I’m sure Hermione will see reason, even if Ron won’t. If nothing else it should bring it home to them how serious this undertaking is. If they want to pull out, I’d rather know now. Who told you, by the way? I suppose it was Slughorn?”

“No, I surmised what you were planning from the preparations in the Great Hall.”

Harry nodded, looking towards the doors.

“I’m surprised you didn’t require me to undertake something similar,” she added.

Harry grinned at her and said, “I wouldn’t dare!”

She smiled and said, “I’ll be in my office. I shall see you later. No doubt you’ll need assistance.”

“No doubt,” he agreed, watching as she ascended the staircase.

Walking into the Great Hall, the first thing he saw were three long tables arranged in the middle to form an equilateral triangle. The four House tables were stacked to the sides, leaving a large open space in the centre.

On each of the three centre tables were place settings for lunch. One table per person.

Near to the entrance doors were a line of large cauldrons which Harry noted were completely empty.

Over at the Staff table, Professor Slughorn was fussing over three more cauldrons. These ones were over lit fires and were steaming gently.

Harry walked over.

“We’re ready,” said Slughorn. “Remember, these potions won’t be effective after about two hours. After that and I’ll have to start again and make up some fresh batches.”

“Two hours will be fine. Thank you, Professor.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No, you’d better stay in case there are any side effects. It also won’t hurt having a fully trained wizard on hand if anything happens.”

Slughorn looked almost longingly at the side door for a moment before shrugging and nodding before returning to his potions.

Harry looked at his watch.

It was time.

In the distance, Harry could hear indistinct shouting. It gradually got louder until the Hall was filled with shouts of, “Move! Move! Move!”

Three figures entered the Great Hall at a run. Ron collapsed heavily to his knees but this time his two escorts didn’t pick him up immediately.

Hagland and Smith separated quickly. Hagland collected their firearms from a nearby table while Smith picked up a large beaker from another table.

They hurried back to Ron.

“Here, drink this. It will make you feel better,” said Hagland. “You’re just dehydrated. Drink deeply.”

Ron drank from the beaker. In two gulps it was empty.

Ron’s breathing slowed visibly. He lowered the beaker with an oddly pensive look on his face. The he frowned.

Hagland nodded to Smith who was standing behind Ron’s back. Smith raised his rifle, aiming at the back on Ron’s head.

Harry hurried over.

“Ron?”

“I feel weird, Harry.”

“That’s to be expected, Ron. You’re not used to this. Um, if you feel a little unwell, you can always-”

At the first mention of the word unwell, Ron’s face almost turned green. He grabbed his stomach. With quick reflexes, Hagland grabbed Ron from behind and pulled him over to one of the empty cauldrons. All the while, Smith did not lower his gun but followed them both closely.

Ron was violently sick.

Harry felt nauseous just listening to Ron wretch, but Hagland and Smith looked totally impassive. Now both of them were aiming their rifles at Ron.

Ron eventually resurfaced.

“That’s better,” he said weakly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Why are you pointing those things at me?”

“Ron, take a seat at the table,” said Harry, feeling rather relieved that Ron apparently didn’t realise what the guns were for.

Ron staggered over and collapsed at the table. Hagland and Smith followed and took up positions just behind him. Unseen by all three, the cauldron that Ron had just vomited into silently flew up to where Slughorn was waiting.

There was more shouting coming from the entrance hall.

Harry turned with mounting trepidation towards the great doors.

Hermione walked in, clutching a stitch in her side and panting with exhaustion. Her two escorts had clearly given up shouting at her and separated. While Carlyle collected their weapons, Hope took Hermione’s arm and led her over towards the empty cauldrons.

“No, no. I’m fine,” said Hermione, looking very flushed and waving Hope away. Hope would have none of it, though, and nodded for Carlyle to bring her beaker over.

Ron had turned and said, “Don’t drink that stuff, Hermione! You’ll be sick!”

Ron began to rise but was forcibly pushed down again by Smith using the muzzle of his automatic rifle.

Hermione looked over at Ron and immediately reached for her wand. She looked down in shock when she realised she wasn’t carrying it any longer.

“It’s okay, Hermione,” said Harry as calmly as he could. “The beaker does not contain anything harmful, I promise you. You will be sick though. It will be too much after all that physical exertion.”

“My wand,” she began to say.

“Your wand is perfectly safe,” he said with a smile.

Hermione frowned and brushed her hair back with shaking hands. She still looked very red and was perspiring heavily.

“My dear,” said Slughorn loudly from the other end of the Hall. “If you delay much longer you’ll need to do another lap or two.”

She looked back at Harry.

“Please, Hermione. I’m sorry, but this really is necessary.”

Hermione took the beaker and Hope said gently, “Drink deeply. The chilled water needs to be a shock to your stomach.”

As Hermione drank, Carlyle shouldered his rifle and both he and Hope guided her closer to the cauldrons.

Hermione dropped the beaker to the floor and covered her mouth.

“No, don’t fight it,” said Carlyle.

Hope pushed Hermione’s head down and that did it. Hermione was violently sick, just as Ron had been.

Harry was about to step forward and hand her one of the towels, but Carlyle stopped him with a stern look. Harry stopped and nodded, remembering that the three of them mustn’t come into physical contact until the tests were completed.

There were more noises coming from the Entrance hall.

“Hagrid! Put him down!” shouted Professor McGonagall.

Hagrid appeared in the doorway looking furious. He was carrying Bateman, who was by no means was a small man, by the scruff of his neck.

As Bateman continued to struggle, his arms and legs flailing around uselessly, Hagrid’s eyes fell upon Hermione as Hope helped to clean her up and walk her to her place at the table.

For one terrible moment, Harry thought Hagrid was about to throw Bateman across the hall.

Harry ran over and was about to shout for Hagrid to put him down when Professor McGonagall appeared holding her wand.

“Hagrid, please put that man down,” she said firmly. There was a finality about her voice that told Harry that it would be Hagrid’s last warning.

Hagrid threw Bateman heavily to the ground but he quickly regained his balance and furiously made to attack.

Harry rushed forward and placed himself between them.

“Please, Bear,” shouted Harry. “Hagrid, blame me. I asked them to do it.”

“I’m alright, Hagrid,” said Hermione from the table. Her voice sounded shaky, but it had the desired effect. Hagrid and Bateman appeared to forget their differences for a moment while they both turned to her.

Harry was concerned to see that Hermione looked very white and appeared to need her elbows to prop herself up at the table.

“Sergeant Bateman, Hagrid, please come with me up to my office,” said Professor McGonagall sternly. “I wish to have words with you both.”

She swept out of the hall. Bateman pulled down his jacket and followed, as did Hagrid.

Harry walked over to the table and sat at the third place setting.

“I’m sorry,” said Harry.

Ron turned suddenly to Smith and shouted angrily, “Hey, stop poking me with that tube thing!”

“Smith,” said Harry, “take a step back. You can cover him just as well from a few feet away.”

Hagland nodded to Smith and they both took one step back.

“What are those things for, anyway?”

Before Harry could stop him, Smith stepped forward again and quickly fired four shots into the three inch thick table top inches away from Ron’s arm. The armour piercing rounds cut through the timber leaving a closely grouped number of large, smoking splinters before burying themselves into the stone floor.

With the muzzle still smoking, Smith stepped back again, this time wearing a very satisfied expression on his face.

“They are called guns, Ron,” said Harry, “and these people are experts in using them. In fact, they are experts in all kinds of things.”

Ron was still staring at the smoking holes in his table when Hermione said, “Harry, what on earth is going on and when are you going to introduce your new friends properly?”

She was clutching her sides and spoke in short breaths.

“Professor?” asked Harry.

Slughorn walked over and a large trolley with various bubbling and steaming potions followed him until they were both standing next to Harry.

“This,” said Slughorn importantly, holding up an almost empty flask of purple coloured liquid, “is a potion known as the Deceiver’s Distillation.”

He swilled the liquid lovingly with a smile on his face.

“Oh, I see,” said Hermione. “Well, at least that explains why we had to travel separately.”

“Yes, I’m sorry about that,” said Harry. “It was important to keep everyone taking the full test physically apart.”

“Why?” asked Ron.

“DNA, probably. Anyone in close proximity to someone is bound to pick up stray bits of hair and skin.”

“Don’t you dare tell me what you’re talking about,” said Ron seriously. “Not just before lunch anyway. It sounds absolutely disgusting!”

“But,” said Hermione, ignoring Ron, “isn’t that potion impossible to make these days? I’m sure I read that one of the active ingredients comes from a magical creature that is believed to be extinct.”

“Oh, excellent!” cried Slughorn with obvious delight. “You are entirely right, Miss Granger. Remind me to award you some House Points for next year.”

Ron rolled his eyes and Harry smiled.

“Yes, indeed,” continued the Professor. “Actually three essential ingredients out of the thirty needed are no longer readily available.

“We managed to obtain some dried petals of the Umpo plant. That plant is actually only found in tropical rainforests and only flowers every seven hundred and twelve years. We couldn’t really afford to wait for a fresh batch.

“I already had a stock of Himalayan bee honey.”

“Why is that rare?” asked Ron.

This time Hermione rolled her eyes, and said, “It has to be made at an altitude one thousand feet above the highest recorded altitude for bees.”

“Indeed! They don’t like the cold, you see?” said Slughorn hopefully to Ron who was frowning slightly at Hermione.

“But the final ingredient has been the most illusive. This potion hasn’t been brewed successfully for at least four hundred years, and all because the egg laying Topple Tree bat became extinct.”

“You found some surviving Topple Tree bats?” asked Hermione.

“No, but we did find some egg shells under a toppled tree. The ground conditions just happened to be perfect for preservation!”

“Hm,” said Hermione. “Actually, I always wondered why that bat survived for as long as it did. It only nested at the top of one type of tree and apparently it enjoyed burying below the roots, making the tree fall over.”

“Indeed!” agreed Slughorn. “Ah, the wonder of nature. Now, as you probably know the potion has to be combined with a sample of, er, fresh vomit.”

“Lovely,” said Ron. “But what does this potion actually do?”

“It reveals the true identity of someone who has changed their appearance,” said Hermione at once. “It is supposed to work for Polyjuice Potion and it even makes Animagi revert back.”

“Oho, it does much more than that!” said Slughorn, bouncing up and down on his heels. “Transformations and other such disguises are revealed also. Miss Granger, can you recall how the test is administered?”

Hermione frowned and looked down, deep in concentration.

“Doesn’t it react with the skin?”

“It does. For one of the tests, a small amount is spread onto the skin.”

“There’s more than one test?”

“Oh, yes,” said Slughorn. “But the second part isn’t in the text books. It can produce a violent reaction, but it is the only way I know of to reveal a Polyjuice impostor.”

“How is that test administered, Professor?” asked Hermione, trying to sound casual.

“One simply sniffs the fumes of a heated sample.”

“Hang on,” said Ron. “Is this stuff really safe? What kind of reaction is it? How do you know it will really work?”

Everyone except Ron and Hermione laughed.

“Harry agreed to act as our test subject. He insisted upon undergoing all but the final test before you got here. That is why he went for his run before dawn.”

“Okay,” said Hermione slowly. “So Harry is Harry. I’m glad about that, but how will you know how a disguised person would react. I can’t believe that a real Death Eater impostor couldn’t fake a result.”

“Yeah,” agreed Ron. “What if they just pretended to sniff the potion?”

“Well,” said Slughorn, “there is a reaction, even if the person really is who they claim to be. That one isn’t in the text books either.”

“But Voldemort knows so much that isn’t in the text books, doesn’t he?” challenged Hermione.

Ron shuddered, as did Slughorn.

Thankfully, he had just put down the precious potion.

“Um, Hermione,” warned Harry. “This potion is all we’ve got. It really wouldn’t do if we lost what we’ve got and only having tested me.”

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “You see my point, though?”

“Yes, Hermione, we do,” agreed Harry. “Actually, I thought Snape rather than Voldemort might work out how to get around the effects of the potion.”

“Great, so even if I don’t test as a Death Eater, I might still be labelled a risk?” asked Ron.

“I’d still like you to agree to take the tests,” said Harry.

“Harry,” said Hermione shrewdly, “what aren’t you telling us?”

“I’d like you to agree to take the tests,” repeated Harry, turning to her.

They lapsed into silence for a long moment. The silence was broken by the loud sound of a rumbling stomach.

“Sorry,” said Harry, rubbing his stomach and blushing. “It’s been a long time since breakfast.”

Ron and Hermione snorted.

“Oh, alright,” said Ron, “I’ll do it. Can I have another go if it comes up negative? I’m not good at potions at the best of times.”

“You won’t need to actually make the potion, Ron,” said Harry as Slughorn brought a tray over to Ron’s side. “Before the test can show you are anyone else, there will be number of procedures to follow.”

“I’m sure they’ll be most pleasant,” said Ron sarcastically, turning in his seat.

“Face forward,” ordered Hope seriously and both he and Carlyle raised new weapons. Harry recognised one as a stun gun and the other as an electric shock device.

As Slughorn fussed with the tray, Hermione said, “Um, will those things work? In Hogwarts I mean?”

“Yes, Hermione,” said Harry. “They’ve been tested here,” he added rubbing his chest absently.

Behind his back, wide grins appeared on the faces of his two escorts as they nodded.

“Um,” said Hermione again. “I’m sure this might not be very a helpful thing to mention at this late stage, but I think I know a way around the test.”

Everyone looked at her.

“Sorry,” she added quietly, looking around.

“What’s your idea, Hermione?” asked Harry, grinning at her.

“Well, it’s a simple idea, really. What if the person you were testing really was an impostor and had taken Polyjuice Potion. They would then be physically identical to the real person, wouldn’t they?”

Harry, Ron and Slughorn nodded.

“I think that if they then took the potion again, using a different sample, the Deceiver’s Distillation could be fooled into revealing the wrong thing. Like a double bluff, you know?” she said, turning her head automatically at the movements being made behind her.

Hope and Carlyle were now raising their guns to Hermione’s head, clearing thinking she knew all too much about Deceiver’s Distillation for her not to be an impostor.

Hermione froze, looking at the end of the automatic weapon.

“Put the guns down,” said Harry gently. They obeyed, albeit reluctantly.

Hermione gave a great sigh of relief and turned back to face Harry.

“The same thing did occur to us, Hermione. We’ve already tried it, and the part of the Deceiver’s Distillation we could try wasn’t fooled. It revealed the true person, but it takes a little time for all the permutations to work their way through.”

As if on queue, Duke’s and Careem’s faces began to bubble. Hermione looked on in wide eyed astonishment as they appeared to swap places in front of her very eyes.

“They’ve been doing that for most of the morning on each hour,” said Harry with a smile.

“Yes,” agreed Slughorn, “the sight of five versions of me running around the lake was quite disturbing. Mind you, I must be in better shape than I thought to do so many laps!”

“You all impersonated each other?” Ron asked laughing.

“Well all except, Terri. She didn’t give us any samples,” quipped Smith with a grin. “Thought we might spend too long in the showers than was healthy.”

The sniggers that went around the hall were quickly stifled at the none too pleased expression on Hope’s face.

Harry coughed gently and asked, “Are we ready?”

The Deceiver’s Distillation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 4 – Introductions

“Please hold out your hand, Mr Weasley,” said Slughorn. “I just need to spread a little of this paste onto the back of your hand. It is a little awkward because I must not touch either the paste nor your skin, and obviously you can’t be allowed to interfere.”

Ron nodded as Slughorn wrestled with a metal spatula. Eventually a small patch of Ron’s hand was covered with a thick light blue paste.

“Good. It needs a short time to react. Just leave your hand on the table in clear view at all times. It may tickle slightly as it dries, but that’s perfectly normal.”

Slughorn placed a stoppered glass funnel flask on the table next to Ron. A thick greenish fluid was in the bottom but most of the flask was filled with what looked like dark green smoke except that it didn’t disperse evenly into the air inside the flash.

As they watched the swirling gas inside the flask, Slughorn tended to Hermione. After applying a light green paste to the back of her hand, he placed another flask beside her on the table.

“Why are these different colours, Professor?” asked Ron.

“The potion reacts differently to each person,” explained Slughorn. “The paste for each of you was made up separately and provides a reactive agent. The flask contents are identical for each of you, though.”

Harry noticed that Hermione was staring into the flask mists, her face unusually passive. When he’d looked into the flasks, he thought he’d imagined seeing dancing figures in the shapes made by the thick gasses inside.

“So, er, when can we get started?” asked Ron. “Or can we have some lunch first?” he added hopefully.

Harry smiled as Slughorn examined his watch.

“One moment more,” Slughorn said under his breath as Professor McGonagall, Hagrid and Sergeant Bateman came back into the hall.

“Okay,” he said finally. “You may both uncork your flasks and sniff the contents. You only need to smell the contents to begin the reaction.”

They both reached for their flasks, picking them up from the table.

Ron removed his stopped with a pop. He peered down the neck of the flask before cautiously lifting it to his nose. He took a small sniff and his expression showed he couldn’t smell anything.

He took another, deeper sniff. The others could see the gas inside move, but it remained stubbornly at the bottom.

Frustrated now, Ron exhaled deeply and brought the flask up to his nose a third time. He began to sniff when suddenly the flask contents propelled themselves up his nose.

Choking, Ron fell backwards. The flask was dropped, smashing against the stone floor.

Rather quicker than anyone expected, Ron stopped choking and sat back on his seat. Looking rather red in the face he said, “Sorry about the flask.”

Harry noted that the paste on his hand was now bright red, as his own deep green coloured paste had become.

“Are you okay, Ron?” asked Hermione.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It was a bit of a shock, but it doesn’t hurt and it smells like a mixture of fried tomatoes and those fumes from Fred and George’s exploding socks. Go ahead, you’ll be fine.”

Hermione nodded, looking at her flask. She uncorked it with a little difficulty and brought the flask up to her nose.

She breathed out and then sniffed sharply, clearly hoping to get it over with. Again, the flask contents shot out of the flask and up Hermione’s nose.

She rocked backwards, closing her eyes, but didn’t fall off her seat.

She opened watery eyes and placed the flask down.

Harry sighed with relief.

“I think you can all put the guns down now,” said Harry. All of the weapons were lowered and food appeared on the table.

“You may partake of something to eat if you wish,” said Professor Slughorn, pushing his trolley back up the hall. “I need to conduct one more test on your samples, but it may be a few minutes before you show a reaction.”

*

“Well,” said Harry. “Perhaps it’s time to introduce you all.”

Professor McGonagall waved her wand and the triangle of tables split at one corner. Harry’s and Ron’s table swung outwards and then a fourth table appeared to make a square. Additional seats appeared around the table as Professor McGonagall walked around to take the middle seat at the new table.

Hagrid and Bateman sat either side of her and Duke and Careem sat either side of Harry. Hope and Carlyle removed their firearms and sat next to Hermione. Hagland and Smith did the same and sat next to Ron who was already busy piling up his plate with the food that had appeared.

“Hermione, to your left is Corporal Terri Hope and to your right is Specialist Carlyle,” said Harry.

Hermione smiled and shook hands with each of them.

“Ron, to your left is Private Hagland and to your right is Corporal Smith.”

Ron grimaced at them, clearly still remembering their little run, but Hermione smiled and nodded as they were introduced.

“To my left is Lance Corporal Duke and to my right this is Specialist Careem.”

“Next to Professor McGonagall is Sergeant Bateman who is in command of this unit. As you may have gathered, they are all soldiers. Actually, they are usually referred to as Special Forces because they originally came from all branches of the armed forces.”

Everybody began to help themselves to sandwiches and drink.

“They have been assigned to us as close protection,” continued Harry.

“But,” interrupted Hermione. “What good will they be? I mean, with respect, how can they possibly defend themselves against qualified wizards and witches?”

Hermione paused seeing the broad smile spreading across Bateman’s face.

“I must admit, the same thing occurred to me,” said Harry. “But actually, they can more than look after themselves. Kingsley Shacklebolt attacked us every time he came while they were staying with me at the Dursleys, but he was never entirely successful.”

Hermione frowned slightly but Ron laughed and said, “I bet your Aunt and Uncle loved that!”

“Their orders,” continued Harry seriously, “are to protect us. Frankly, I wasn’t too happy about that. I’ve lost enough people who placed themselves at risk for my benefit, and I have no intention of allowing that to happen again.”

The smile slipped from Ron’s face.

“Kingsley did make a couple of points that I had to agree with, though. Firstly, and perhaps most importantly, the Order has been compromised. We have to assume that Snape has been loyal to Voldemort ever since he returned. Even if he wasn’t the Order’s secret keeper, he still had a lot of information to pass on.

“I suppose what I’m saying is, when we set out, we will not be able to rely on the Order. They will do their thing, and we’ll do ours. We’ll need to work out some kind of communication method, but I suspect it will revolve around Hogwarts.”

“Wouldn’t we stand a better chance to find-,” began Ron.

“Shut up, Ron!” said Hermione sharply.

Ron looked at her indignantly but Harry said, “Ron, we need to be careful. Not even the Order can know our real objectives, nor the people we will involve to achieve them.”

“What?”

“It’s going to take more than just the three of us, Ron,” said Harry.

“I agree,” said Hermione. “But, Harry, why are we even discussing this in front of anyone else?”

Harry smiled and said, “That’s a fair point, Hermione, but we’re not talking about specifics. Also, Voldemort would have to be pretty stupid not to realise we’re up to something when the three of us don’t return to school in September. I’m hoping he’ll assume I’ve gone into hiding. In a sense, it will be true of course.”

Hermione nodded sadly.

“Kingsley also voiced something that has been bothering me for a while now. He asked simply, what preparations I’d been making since I became aware of the Prophecy.”

“That’s hardly fair,” said Hermione at once.

“I’m afraid it is,” said Harry. “I’ve wasted so much time. I suppose I kept hoping Dumbledore would finish with his memories and start teaching me some serious defence. I should have taken things into my own hands much sooner, especially with Snape teaching us Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

“But he did teach us properly,” said Hermione quickly, “not like Umbridge.”

“Whose side are you on, Hermione?” asked Ron rudely.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she replied angrily. “All I said was the truth. Snape did teach us to the required standard. I thought he was rather a good Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, actually. He didn’t leave out anything from the Sixth Year texts and he even made a start on the Seventh Year work.”

“That’s true,” agreed Harry, “but it just means Snape was cleverer than Umbridge. He didn’t really teach anything serious in terms of defence. I mean, did we really learn much more than we didn’t know already from the DA?”

Hermione gave half a shrug but shook her head slowly.

“What really drove it home, of course, was the difficulty we had fighting those Death Eaters.”

“You all survived without serious injury,” interrupted McGonagall. “That must count for something.”

Ron snorted and said, “Yeah, but that was only-”

“Ron!” interrupted Harry and Hermione in unison.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Maybe I should just keep quiet.”

“Just think before you speak,” said Hermione firmly, but with no anger in her voice. “What else did Kingsley say, Harry?”

“He suggested,” continued Harry without hesitation, “that I could do with learning a few things that have nothing to do with magic. Kingsley said that, although they probably won’t admit it, all of our new friends here have faced mortal dangers and have generally kept themselves alive by not panicking and keeping their heads in a crisis.”

“That’s part of it,” interrupted Bateman, looking over to Hermione, “but there’s more. We might maintain high levels of fitness, but then so do many services personnel. We are trained on a wide variety of weapons, and regrettably we have had cause to use them sometimes, but then so have many.

“What really counts,” he continued gently, “is collecting your thoughts in a crisis, analysing your problems and quickly assessing your options and strengths. That can be difficult sometimes, especially knowing you may be shot dead at any moment.”

“I can see that,” said Hermione, “but not everyone can exercise such control. Is this really something you can teach?”

“Some people, I agree, could never be taught such things. It’s instinctive. The fight or flight impulse is very strong. Even so, all most people need in a chaotic theatre is one thing that is in control. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve dived in a crater after a young recruit. They just run or hide. Like a lost child in many ways.

“Anyway, once you get their attention and they realise that you’re still functioning, they can start to think. Training helps, but you can never really tell how someone will react until they are in a live firefight.

“The more experienced combatants tend to hold their calmness inside. When I get spooked, and I still do sometimes,” he added with a smile seeing surprised looks around the table, “I see the face of my old Colour Sergeant after I first came under live fire. He ran through a hail of gunfire to reach me, cowering behind a garden wall. Once I’d seen his eyes, I regained control. Of course, he gave me hell afterwards, but I’m convinced his strength, his conviction, has been like another flack jacket.”

Hermione smiled at him.

“I honestly don’t expect you to become a savage killer in the short while we’ll have together. From the little I’ve heard about all three of you, you have all been in dangerous situations and have the skill to defend yourselves. What I believe you are missing, is simply the confidence and presence of mind to think your way through to a victory.”

Hermione frowned slightly and then said, “It’s true. Ever since our fight with those Death Eaters, I’ve kept thinking about what I should have done. I knew the hexes, but all I did was the same defensive spells over and over.”

Ron nodded and said quietly, “Yeah, me too.”

Harry looked down, reminded once again of the dangers he’d placed his friends in.

“Still,” Ron added brightly, “at least Harry’s much better in a crisis. He’s got himself out of many scrapes, haven’t you, Harry?”

Harry shook his head slowly.

“My problem is slightly different. We’ll talk specifics later, but I still tend not to consider all the options.”

Bateman smiled and said, “We’ve seen a difference even in the few short days you’ve been putting up with us.”

There was general nodding and smiling around the table.

Hermione looked quizzically around the table and asked interestedly, “In what way?”

“Oh, I think we’ll keep what we’ve been doing to ourselves for now,” said Bateman mischievously. “We want to keep some surprises for you to enjoy. Besides, I’m not sure Hagrid would entirely approve,” he added to several laughs, including from Hagrid himself.

“Let’s just say, I hardly recognise the young man we first encountered a few days ago. We stormed his Aunt and Uncle’s house at four in the morning, and-“

“You did what?” interrupted Hermione in alarm and Ron sniggered. “What about the neighbours?”

“Kingsley obliged by putting everyone within earshot asleep,” Bateman explained. “Of course, Kingsley would have been more of service by telling us that we weren’t facing a normal teenager.”

The others laughed and Harry began to look embarrassed.

“What we found was a caged animal,” said Duke smiling.

“Yeah, one that knew his cage too.”

“I think Harry got rid of quite a lot of pent-up energy that night,” said Bateman. “In his rage I think he got all of us at various times during the fight, but he was eventually overpowered simply because of two factors. He was clearly trying not to cause permanent injuries and he didn’t press his advantage home when he had the chance.

“After that, when we’d moved in, Kingsley acted as the attacker. Harry learned quickly, but what he learned had nothing to do with magic.”

Hermione nodded but appeared to become distracted for a moment. She rubbed her stomach and wore an uncomfortable expression.

“Ooh,” she said quietly, “I don’t think my lunch agreed with me.”

“No, Hermione,” said Harry coldly. “That will be the Deceiver’s Distillation getting to work.”

“Oh, did you get stomach ache too?” asked Ron.

“I can’t say, I did, Ron,” said Harry, watching as Hermione doubled over, clutching her middle with both arms.

“No!” breathed Ron, realising the significance of Harry’s words.

The Deceiver’s Distillation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 5 – Puzzling Behaviour

“Argh!” cried Hermione, in real pain now and making Harry’s stomach clench in sympathy. Hope and Carlyle rose unhurriedly from the table to calmly collect their firearms.

Hermione looked up desperately.

“You can’t believe that I’m not me! I promise you I’m not an impostor. Ask me anything. Anything at all!” she implored, clearly distressed.

Harry got up and walked around the tables. He sat down again in the vacant seat next to Hermione.

Hermione appeared to suffer another spasm of pain, but fought to look up at Harry.

Ron rose to his feet but was immediately grabbed by Hagland and Smith and lead away. He appeared to be in too much shock to resist.

Hermione looked around. The Hall was empty now apart from the two of them.

“Are you sure you’re safe being alone with me?”

Harry smiled and shrugged.

“Tell me about what you’ve been up to, Hermione,” he asked. “I wrote to you at your parents. I was a little surprised to learn that you’d left for the Burrow so soon.”

“Well, it would have been nicer to stay longer, but I was worried I might miss you before you set off. I spent most of the last two summers away from home too, if you remember.”

“How did your parents react?”

“They were disappointed, but I’ve told them all about the upheavals going on.”

“They are very worried about you, Hermione.”

“What?”

“Hedwig brought me a letter from them back with her. You’re right, Hermione. They do know about all the upheavals going on. That’s why they felt it so important to talk to me.”

“Talk? You talked to my parents?”

“Yes. We had a meeting the morning I left Privet Drive to come here. To be honest, I was really glad of chance to talk to them. Only having seven disciplined soldiers for company can get a bit tiresome. I don’t think I’d like the army much,” he joked.

Hermione didn’t laugh. She didn’t smile either.

Harry straightened his face again and was about to continue when another spasm of pain rocked Hermione. She shrugged it off and waited for him to continue.

“Your parents are safe. They have been taken to a location that I don’t know. They don’t have a very pleasant year to look forward to, but they agreed anyway.”

“Why did Mum and Dad want to speak to you?”

“Well, obviously, they are worried about you.”

“But they didn’t say anything to me,” she said, looking around as if for answers. “Nothing has changed. It’s the same risk as before.”

“Well, I think things have changed, but you’re right. There was a risk as well, before.”

“So why?” demanded Hermione, clutching her stomach again.

“Well,” said Harry slowly. “Your parents were somewhat unnerved. You see, you’d told them all about Barty Crouch impersonating Mad-Eye, as well as all about the Imperious curse.”

Hermione frowned and stared at him intently.

“So, when their daughter came home for the holidays, they were concerned about how different she was,” he said gently.

“I was just a little embarrassed, that’s all. I wasn’t exactly prepared for the intense questioning after I got a letter from Ron. It was private, after all.”

Harry smiled and said, “They didn’t mention anything at all about any letter, but they did say they now knew you had a boyfriend, although you wouldn’t outright admit it.”

“Oh.”

“No, actually they kept asking the same question. I had to admit, I really didn’t have an answer for them.”

“What was their question?”

“Can’t you guess?”

“Just tell me, Harry!” Hermione ordered impatiently.

Harry tilted his head, as if considering her response.

“They wanted to know where their daughter was. The Hermione who was studious to the point of obsession. The Hermione who enthused for hours on end about what she had been doing. The Hermione who wanted to fight for elf rights. The Hermione who read voraciously until her eyes were so tired she couldn’t see straight. The Hermione who remembered every sentence they had ever written to them while she was away from school. The Hermione who-”

“All right, Harry,” she interrupted angrily. “I get the point.”

Hermione appeared to pull herself together before answering.

“I know I was a little distracted,” she said calmly. “I really think part of them resents the fact that their little girl is growing up and growing away from their way of life. Everybody changes, Harry, even you.”

“Hermione, your parents let you go from the time we first took the Hogwarts Express,” said Harry, pulling a folded slip of printed paper from an inside pocket.

Hermione gave a groan when she realised what it was.

Harry carefully unfolded the paper and Hermione snatched it out of his hands.

“Honestly, Harry! You can’t believe I’m an impostor because I didn’t complete some stupid crossword puzzle! How many have you abandoned? I bet it’s a lot more than me!”

“Yes, that’s true of me. But is it really of you? I had a quick go of this one. I could do about three-quarters of it without resorting to a reference book. I did have to check some spellings in a dictionary, though.”

“There you go then. Why would I bother doing a crossword so easy?”

“Well, this particular crossword has a clue that not even you would know. Your parents thought it most odd that you didn’t look it up.”

Hermione frowned and scanned the crossword clues.

“I did suggest,” continued Harry, “that you might not have read that clue, if you’d abandoned it before then.”

Hermione had found the clue.

She scrunched up her nose and shook her head.

“Mm,” agreed Harry. “Your Mum and Dad thought that unlikely too.”

Hermione lowered the crossword.

“Do you remember starting the crossword?”

Hermione was still for a moment and then she shook her head miserably.

“No, I don’t remember starting this crossword. The Muggle newspapers we get at home actually have three crosswords a day in them. Mum loves doing the cryptic ones; the harder the better. Dad likes to do the quick ones. He tries to break his own best time. They let me do these ones in the holidays. Otherwise they usually share it.”

Harry smiled and said, “That’s nice.”

“I don’t remember,” she said, still looking at the crossword. “I suppose I could have been under the Imperious charm. Wouldn’t I remember something, though?”

“Not necessarily. In fact, I think that is unlikely. The Imperious charm works by getting you to do something. You knew most of the answers, so you could have completed most of the puzzle.”

Hermione suddenly looked rather anxious.

“Harry, have you got a pen on you?”

Harry laughed and snatched the crossword away from her.

“You can do it later,” he promised, waiting until Hermione looked up at him before continuing.

“Like I said, Hermione, I really don’t believe this is evidence. It is entirely possible that you got distracted by something. Anything. Maybe one of Ron’s letters arrived. Maybe one didn’t. I don’t know. It isn’t important.”

“Thank you, Harry,” said Hermione, sounding relieved.

“Hang on,” he said seriously, “you’re not out of the woods yet.”

Hermione’s expression grew anguished again as she waited for him to explain.

“Your Mum and Dad have a point in the other things they said. All last year you were distant, and when you weren’t, you were just harping on about my Potions book. Actually, that probably isn’t fair. It just felt like you spent the whole year sniping at me about the book,” he added with a small smile.

“But I was right about that book, Harry.”

“That’s got nothing to do with it. When did we just talk, friend-to-friend, like we are now?”

“Well, I’m not sure.”

“No?”

“We could have talked, if you’d wanted.”

“How’s your stomach feeling now?”

“Um, I’m feeling a little better now, thanks.”

“Good.”

Hermione sighed deeply.

“So, are you going to tell me?”

“Tell you what, Harry?”

“Why you distanced yourself from me.”

“Why bother asking? If you think I’m an impostor, you should be asking me more important things.”

Harry smiled.

“The Hermione I know would have a very good reason if she had to distance herself from me. I also think it would upset her a little, and that would more than explain her unusual behaviour at home.”

Hermione face distorted into a mild grimace.

“It did upset me,” she admitted finally.

Harry smiled kindly and said, “Go on.”

“I was sworn to secrecy, Harry. You have to believe me. It was killing me to be so cruel. What with Ron behaving like a prat too, I felt I had no one to turn to.”

Hermione wiped her face.

“It was Dumbledore. He made me promise to do it.”

“What?”

“Yes. He came to the Burrow before you arrived and asked to speak to me.”

“But why on earth would he want you to distance yourself from me?”

Hermione remained silent.

“Why, Hermione?”

“He said you needed to be prepared. You know, for what is to come.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He said it was important that you discover, er, some things for yourself.”

Harry frowned, thinking hard. What had happened that might have been as a result of Hermione distancing herself from him?

He shook his head as he discounted the possibilities.

“I confided everything from the Pensieve to you anyway,” he thought aloud, “so that can’t be it.”

Then he had it.

“Ginny. It has to be Ginny.”

Hermione shook her head.

“Actually, no, Harry. I’m not sure Dumbledore knew it would be Ginny, although I thought it might be, obviously.”

“But why?”

“I won’t tell you that. Dumbledore wanted you to find out for yourself. He didn’t tell me why that was, but he clearly thought it was important. Knowing you as I do, Harry, I think he was right. You need to discover this, not just be told. I suspect you will have difficulty accepting this as the truth otherwise.”

Harry’s frown was reinstated.

“While I was with Ginny,” he said slowly, “I was happy. Genuinely happy. I felt happiness. It was real. It was real, except it wasn’t.”

Harry looked Hermione in the eye and said firmly, “It wasn’t my happiness I was feeling, was it?”

Hermione shook her head in agreement.

“I was feeling her happiness, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, Harry. Ginny really does feel for you.”

“Does she? I mean, does she love me or am I just some kind of trophy?”

“You’ll have to work that out with her, Harry.”

“I still don’t see why you had to distance yourself from me.”

“No? Well, the three of us have always been close. I suppose that closeness affected you. You felt what we felt. That probably shielded you from others to a certain extent.”

“Shielded me? Shielded me from their emotions, you mean?”

Hermione nodded and Harry laughed.

“That sounds like utter nonsense!”

“It isn’t nonsense, Harry,” Hermione said quietly. “You’ve always felt the emotions of those around you. You even felt Voldemort’s emotions.”

“That was because of my scar.”

“Are you sure? Maybe your scar established a link, but your own abilities enabled you to feel him. Actually, I’ve been convinced for some time that your scar hurting sometimes has distracted you from discovering what you can do.”

“What else did Dumbledore tell you?”

“Oh, he didn’t need to, Harry. I’ve always known.”

“How?”

Hermione hesitated and said, “Um, I’d like to answer, but first I need to speak to Ron. It’s only fair. If I’m going to tell you the truth, he needs to know first.”

Harry straightened up and considered her for a moment.

“Alright, Hermione. Whatever you want. Ron is up in the common room. I’ll be down by the lake when you’re ready to continue.”

Hermione stood and walked to the doors.

“See?” said Harry with a grin, as soon as she had gone. “I told you.”

Bateman threw off Harry’s invisibility cloak and holstered his revolver. From his expression, Harry knew he wasn’t yet convinced.

“That wasn’t the conversation you thought you would have, is it, Harry?”

“Um, well no,” Harry admitted. “But I’m sure it’s her. She is Hermione.”

“That assumption isn’t based upon anything she told you, is it?”

“No.”

“No,” agreed Bateman. “Why did you let her go like that?”

Harry remained silent.

“This was your big opportunity to get an admission from her.”

“I trust Hermione. She’ll tell me the truth. I have no problem with her doing it her way if she wants. I owe her that.”

“Well, remember you may not have too long. Does she really need to tell Weasley something or are they just concocting more lies. Maybe she just wants to implicate him.”

“Bear, I trust both Hermione and Ron.”

Bateman sighed and shook his head despondently.

“What did you make of all that rubbish she was saying?” asked Bateman after a moment. “Convenient that her main witness happens to be dead, don’t you think?”

“She told me the truth, but I don’t believe she has told me everything yet.”

“That may be quite an understatement. Just remember what we agreed. No giving either of them any hints that you know anything. I thought you were sailing quite close to the wind just now, regarding certain comments about-”

“I know,” interrupted Harry, looking down. “This isn’t as easy as I imagined it would be,” he added miserably after a long pause. “I still think Slughorn could be wrong.”

“Er, Harry, it was you who figured it out, remember?”

Bateman smiled sympathetically at Harry as he looked miserably down at his feet. He just couldn’t bring himself to repeat aloud his previous warnings about Harry’s two best friends and strongest allies. He knew he should have, but instead he contented himself by walking out of the Great Hall and heading towards the grounds for a long walk.

The Deceiver’s Distillation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 6 – A Little Miracle

Harry was sitting under the shade of the large beech tree by the lake when he heard Hermione approach him. He was surprised that she had sought him out so soon after their conversation in the Great Hall. This somewhat fuelled his suspicion that Hermione had used the excuse of needing to speak to Ron just to get out of there and do some quick thinking, not that he really blamed her.

She sat down next to him and looked around.

“Where are your minders, Harry?”

“Oh, they’re never far but they are quite good in allowing me to at least pretend I have some privacy.”

Hermione snorted.

“You okay,” he asked gently, seeing she looked a little red in the face.

“I’m fine,” Hermione said quietly.

“Did you tell Ron what you needed to?”

“Well kind of. He wasn’t quite so keen to speak to me alone as you are, Harry. That made things a little awkward, since I had no intention of telling those other two anything.”

“Hagland and Smith you mean?”

“Yes, I think so. Anyway, I told Ron as best I could, although I’m sure he wasn’t listening to me half the time.”

“He’s probably concerned you might perform an Unforgivable Curse on him,” Harry said smiling.

“Well, he certainly tempted me to,” said Hermione sounding annoyed. “Unfortunately I haven’t got my wand back yet.”

Harry waited for Hermione to calm herself and tell him what she wanted in her own time.

“I’ve known for a long time, Harry,” she began looking out across the lake. “I mean, I’ve known about your ability for a long time. In fact, I knew from the first moment we met on the train. I really didn’t know what to make of it, really. I recall gibbering on about books to stop myself being too obvious.”

Harry frowned but remained silent.

“I was a little worried about it, so I consulted Professor McGonagall. She was rather dismissive at first, but I suspect she mentioned it to Professor Dumbledore, because she called me to her office shortly after to speak to me about it.

“She gave me some books to read and gave me some simple exercises to practice. She said it was important for me to understand what I could feel and also give myself an opportunity to block them when I wanted.”

“You’re talking about Occlumency, aren’t you?”

“Yes, it’s very similar, anyway. You were my benchmark, actually. Professor McGonagall said so long as you couldn’t detect my emotional state, then I was progressing at an acceptable standard.”

“Did Snape ever test you?”

“Oh, no. Professor McGonagall told me never to tell anyone. She was most insistent about that.”

“Have you ever asked her why?”

“No, I knew she’d just say it was what Dumbledore had recommended.”

Harry nodded. He was sure that would still be McGonagall’s answer.

“Hang on. You said you could see this ability in me. That means you must be able to perform Legilimency too.”

“Oh, no, Harry. I just feel strong emotions. I’ve never seen anything else and I often can’t see anything at all. I can’t tell when people are lying and things like that.”

“Emotions,” Harry repeated, thinking hard. “I still don’t get it. If you could shield your emotions from me, why did Dumbledore tell you to distance yourself from me?”

“Well, that’s the point. I couldn’t. I was putting all my energies into just blocking you. Thankfully, all through Fifth Year you were too wrapped up in yourself to notice that I was just a wreck.”

“Fifth Year?”

“Yes, that’s when I began to have problems. I think you were affected by Cho’s emotions as well that year. I suspect Dumbledore was worried I’d have a similar effect on you, actually.”

“So what was it you were trying to hide from me?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“Are you blocking me now?”

“Absolutely! I’m feeling rather insecure now,” she added with half a laugh and tucking her hair behind her ear.

Harry stared intently at Hermione’s smiling face for a moment. He dropped his gaze, unable to return her smile.

“I’m not sure, Hermione. If I didn’t know better,” he said trailing off.

“What?”

“Well, isn’t that what an impostor would hint at?” he said cruelly. Harry immediately regretted these words but fortunately Hermione thought he was joking.

“Except the Deceiver’s Distillation cleared me, don’t forget!”

“Cleared you? No, Hermione, you weren’t cleared. I asked Slughorn, and he agreed that your transformation into a cat having taken Polyjuice Potion in our Second Year might have an effect. That’s why you had those stomach pains, although he half expected you to grow all furry again.”

“But the way we spoke,” said Hermione uncertainly.

“We’ll know the results in a couple of hours. Don’t worry about it.”

They sat quietly together for several minutes. Hermione fidgeted the whole time but didn’t say anything further. Harry could feel himself growing more despondent with every passing minute.

When it was clear to him that Hermione had nothing further to say, Harry got to his feet.

“Go back to the castle, Hermione. Hope and Carlyle are waiting for you in the Entrance Hall. I’ll see you before dinner in the Great Hall.”

Harry turned and walked off towards Hagrid’s house.

*

Harry arrived at the corral before he knew it. Coming back to himself he stepped under the fence and stood waiting for the Hippogriff to realise he was there.

Careful not to blink, he bowed deeply.

Almost at once Buckbeak bowed in return and Harry walked forward to stroke him on his large beak.

Buckbeak stared down at him for a long moment as if making a critical examination. Harry looked back up into Buckbeak’s large keen eyes and was sure he knew of his inner torment. Buckbeak crouched down, clearly inviting Harry to climb aboard.

Harry smiled and nodded before climbing aboard. He had just secured himself when Buckbeak launched himself up into the air.

For the first time in what seemed like ages, Harry felt the exhilaration of flight. The wind on his face simply wiped away his concerns. Even if this was a temporary respite, it was still most welcome.

They did two wide circles around the castle before heading off to the edge of the mountains.

Buckbeak climbed higher than they had ever flown before diving back down to follow the perimeter of the grounds and then back to the corral.

Harry braced himself for a heavy landing but as usual, Buckbeak landed with barely a bump.

He slid off Buckbeak’s back and still grinning, he patted him saying, “Thanks, Buckbeak. I really needed that.”

Harry turned to see Ron sitting patiently on the corral fence. He was rather glad he had seen him as he had been about to confide some of his problems aloud to Buckbeak, having hoped that voicing them would help to see a better viewpoint.

He walked over to him as Buckbeak began to ferret around for some worms.

“Shouldn’t you be using his new name, Witherwings?”

Harry shook his head seriously.

“His name is Buckbeak, and I’m tired of things not being what they appear to be.”

Ron raised his eyebrows as Harry climbed through the fence. He jumped down to walk back with Harry.

“Witherwings,” spat Harry contemptuously. “What kind of name is that?”

“Not another one!”

“Sorry?”

“Well, Hermione was going on about something weird too earlier.”

Harry looked at Ron and said, “Hermione wanted to tell you something before she told me something. I don’t know what she told you, but what she told me was pretty strange.”

Ron stopped in his tracks and Harry came to a halt too.

“Did you two have a row, or something?” asked Ron suspiciously.

“A row? No, not at all. But, I did send her back to the castle while I came here to think.”

“Yeah, she mentioned you being all high handed,” Ron said with half a smile. “I think it was something more, though.”

Harry sighed deeply and they continued walking.

“I got the impression she was expecting me to know what she was talking about straight away,” said Harry carefully.

“I’m not sure we should give her back her wand right away,” said Ron.

“Why ever not?”

“Well, I think she feels she owes me a hex or two for the way I reacted when she took that Potion. I should have paid more attention to your reaction.”

“I’m sure Hermione won’t hex you, Ron.”

“She said you were expecting her to have a reaction?”

“Actually, that wasn’t it. In fact,” said Harry coming to a stop again. “I knew it was her. I could feel her reaction and her pain. She was more upset that I might not believe her, though.”

“You’d make quite a double act, you know? You’re sounding just as mad as she was.”

Harry snorted and made to walk on when Ron caught his arm.

“Hang on, Harry. I really need a word.”

“Sure, Ron. What is it?”

“Look,” he said hesitantly. “First of all, don’t laugh at me when I tell you this.”

“Of course not, if there’s something troubling you. What is it?” Harry asked seriously.

Ron appeared to be searching for the words and Harry waited patiently.

“It was what Hermione told me. I mean, I knew she would. Maybe not quite so quickly, or frankly, though,” said Ron, looking down at his feet.

“What is it?” said Harry with genuine concern.

“I need to ask you something, but you may not realise why I’m asking,” said Ron looking up. “Let’s just agree it’s important for me to know, and leave it at that for now, okay?”

Harry frowned for a moment but then said, “Sure, Ron. Ask away.”

“Well,” said Ron, drawing a deep breath, “first of all. You know I’ve kind of liked Hermione for a while now?”

Harry nodded.

“But you’ve never said anything. I mean, you’ve never said how you felt about us.”

Harry raised his eyebrows with mild surprise. He struggled to find an answer.

“You want me to be honest?” he asked seriously.

Ron nodded.

“Well, I’ve never really known how Hermione felt about you. Frankly, I was surprised by her actions this last year. I thought she was unusually immature; but then so were you, even by your standards.”

“When I said honest,” began Ron.

Harry grinned and said, “Hey, at least you both found each other. I mean, found a new level to your friendship. I’m sure you can build on that now.”

“Harry, I need to hear you say something,” pressed Ron. “I know you’ll say I’m being immature again. Well, maybe I am.”

“What?”

“What did you feel about us two getting together?”

“Well, at the beginning I didn’t bother considering it. I honestly thought the possibility of you two forming any romantic bond between arguments was quite remote. As it is, I’m happy to remain quietly incredulous knowing that miracles do happen.”

Ron rolled his eyes.

“Did you really mean that last part?”

“Yes, Ron,” said Harry laughing, “I think you’re a little miracle.”

“I’m serious, Harry.”

“Look, for a moment, just a fleeting moment, I did feel a little weird about it. At first I put it down to fear of just getting in the way. You know, three’s a crowd and all that.”

“Go on,” said Ron.

“I’m not sure there is anything more,” said Harry. “I’ve already said more than I intended.”

“I realise that, Harry. I appreciate it, I really do. The thing is, I need to ask one more thing.”

“Okay.”

“Are you jealous?”

“Ron, you’re both my two best friends. How could I possibly resent your both finding happiness. If you find it together, I’m fine with that.”

“No, Harry. I mean, I believe what you say, but it’s what you’re not saying that’s troubling me.”

“You may need to explain that.”

“I think that if Hermione found happiness, you’d be happy for her because she’s your friend.”

“That’s true. What am I missing?”

“I think that you’d force yourself to be happy for her, to the exclusion of your own happiness.”

“Sure, whatever.”

“So, you do have feelings for her.”

“I didn’t need to say that, Ron. You know what Hermione means to me. She’s an important part of my life and I need her love and support, now more than ever. Don’t expect me ever to deny I have feelings for her.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ron said impatiently. “But you find her attractive, don’t you?”

“Well, she is attractive. She’s also bright, caring and funny.”

“But you fancy her, don’t you?” said Ron, grabbing his arm. “That’s why you dumped Ginny.”

Harry was taken aback by the abruptness of this accusation.

“Ron,” Harry said gently, “it sounds like you expect me to make her choose between you and me.”

Ron didn’t say anything.

“Ron, I promise you, I won’t do that. Quite apart from the fact that I’d lose both my best friends by doing that, I suspect that Hermione would react badly to any more high-handiness from me,” he replied smiling.

Ron let go of his arm and stood still.

Then he swore loudly.

Harry frowned and asked, “Ron, you didn’t tell Hermione of these concerns, did you?”

Ron nodded reluctantly.

“Just great, Ron. Where is she?” Harry asked with resignation.

The Deceiver’s Distillation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 7 - Revelations

Harry climbed through the Portrait hole into the Gryffindor common room. He was relieved to see Hermione curled up on the couch in front of the fireplace. It she had been up in the girls’ dormitories, he would have had to ask Professor McGonagall how to get up there.

“Hermione?” he asked gently.

She stirred slowly and pushed herself up straighter. Her face was red and her eyes were puffy from crying. He sat down next to her.

“I’m really sorry,” said Harry. “Ron just quizzed me as well. I think he was just being insecure. I’d have been here sooner only it took him a while to get to the point.”

Hermione snorted and smiled.

“That’s better,” he said taking her hand. “Now keep smiling and think forgiving thoughts.”

Hermione’s face dropped almost at once.

“Hermione, you know Ron has even less experience with nice girls than I do. Now that he’s finally realising how great you are, he’s bound to become jealous of everyone you even look at for a while, anyway.”

Hermione shrugged her shoulders.

“I know he’s already regretting what he said, Hermione. Please give him another chance. He deserves one second chance, doesn’t he?”

“He used up his second chance a while ago,” she said thickly.

“A while? We only finished term a few days ago! Anyway, how about a third chance then?”

“I think he’s already used his sixth chance.”

“Seven times a charm?”

*

They left the Common Room just after five o’clock.

Harry hadn’t even attempted to get Hermione to speak further in the Common Room. Right then he was just there for her as a friend. Nothing else mattered, although he suspected Bateman wouldn’t have approved of his not taking advantage of Hermione’s distress.

Just after the clock had chimed to indicate they should go dinner, Hermione had departed to freshen up leaving him alone with his thoughts for a few minutes.

Harry realised that he was certain, beyond anything the Deceiver’s Distillation might tell them later, of his trust in Hermione. The only problem was that Harry still couldn’t explain to himself how this could be.

Harry and Hermione walked down the staircase to the entrance lobby where they found Ron waiting for them looking distinctly uneasy.

“I’ll see you inside,” said Harry diplomatically, leaving them at the foot of the stairs. “There’s no hurry.”

He walked through the doors and immediately became aware of two people that had followed him. He turned to see it was Duke and Careem.

“I had no idea you were following me that closely,” he admitted.

They both grinned and Careem said, “Well, you looked a little distracted.”

Harry shook his head and went over to the tables which looked like they had been elongated slightly to form a larger square in the middle of the Great Hall.

Slughorn was sitting with four corked flasks in front of him.

“Everything okay, Professor?” asked Harry.

“Well, I’m sure the test will work. I just wish I knew what the outcome would be,” he replied looking rather worried. “Did your conversations with Miss Granger and Mr Weasley give you any reassurance?”

Professor McGonagall entered the hall at that point and Slughorn got to his feet, saving Harry from answering him. Hagrid game into the hall next, followed by Ron and Hermione. Bateman and the others entered the hall from the side door.

McGonagall indicated for everyone to sit.

“Horace? Are you ready?” she asked.

Slughorn smiled widely and Harry could tell he was enjoying the moment and would no doubt present his results with dramatic effect.

“First of all, the standard tests. We knew Mr Weasley was inadvertently exposed to a love potion in the last year, but I can confirm that no other potions that might influence him have been detected.”

“Love potion?” asked Hermione in surprise. “Ron, you didn’t tell us about that!”

“Sorry,” said Ron, “I assumed Harry told you.”

Hermione turned to Harry, her eyebrows raised enquiringly.

“I didn’t want to embarrass Ron, Hermione. He took it by accident.”

Slughorn cleared his throat wearing an expression that betrayed his annoyance that his audience was becoming distracted.

“Miss Granger is also clear, however,” he said before pausing. He turned with an exaggerated arm gesture, “I did detect that Mr Potter has been exposed to something unusual.”

Everyone looked at Harry who could not help himself from frowning at Slughorn. Was he about to tell everyone what they had discovered?

“I’m still not entirely sure what it was. It was either administered a long time ago or the dose was very carefully controlled. My guess would be the latter, actually.”

“What was it?” asked Harry, realising this was something new.

“I have not been able to determine the precise ingredients but there were some very exotic ingredients. Some of them appear to be from part of the Amortentia family of potions, but not ones that are commonly available.”

Harry shook his head.

“The interesting thing is that something counteracted the potion,” continued Slughorn. “I believe that’s why I have not been able to get conclusive results.”

“Someone slipped me an antidote?”

“I suspect not, actually. I think something else counteracted the effects. Perhaps a mild Strengthening Solution.”

“I didn’t know that was possible.”

“Well, it only rarely has that effect. The Strengthening Solution would have had to be administered at the right moment. Had you been exposed to anything like a love potion, it would only have had an intermittent effect at best.”

They were silent for a few moments before Slughorn picked up one of the flasks in front of him. He swirled the deep red liquid inside, bringing everyone’s attention back to him.

“Who wants to go first?” he asked with a grin.

“Me,” said Harry and Hermione both together.

There were a few chuckles from around the table.

“Well, ladies first I think,” said Slughorn, placing the flask down and reaching for the last flask. He picked it up and walked round to where Hermione was sitting.

“Pull the cork out. The liquid will vaporise and the vapour will be attracted to you. Don’t be alarmed, it’s perfectly harmless.”

Hermione took the flask.

With a fleeting look at Harry, she pulled out the cork. A thick cloud erupted from the flask which drifted lazily towards her until it enveloped her almost completely.

Through the mist, Harry could see Hermione’s indistinct outline.

Then the mist evaporated.

There was a collective sigh of relief from around the table as Hermione brushed her hair back. Harry knew she wasn’t quite as calm as she wished to appear.

“Me next!” piped up Ron.

“Very well, Mr Weasley,” said Slughorn, handing him a flask.

Ron uncorked the flask and the same fine mist enveloped him. It quickly evaporated.

“Ha!” said Ron looking around the table.

Slughorn absently placed a third flask before Harry as he said, “Well done, Mr Weasley.”

The others were talking amongst themselves now as Harry picked up his flask.

“Well, that was a bit of an anticlimax,” joked Slughorn. “Not that I’m not pleased, of course. Shall we have dinner before we show off our last trick?”

“Oh, let’s eat, Horace,” said Professor McGonagall and instantly plates of hot food appeared before them.

Harry twisted the cork before opening it and glanced up. Hermione and Bateman were the only ones watching as he released the mist into the air.

It was like a warm, welcoming cloud.

Harry felt a pleasant tingling sensation on his skin. Then he began to feel burning. His face was especially hot.

Instinctively, Harry wiped his face.

As his fingers moved across his wet skin, he felt something different. It was as if his skin wasn’t his. Somehow the sensation wasn’t the same.

Harry realised it must only be the effect of the mist.

He looked up, but couldn’t see properly.

Next to him, Duke swore loudly and Harry became aware of both Duke and Careem scrambling to get away.

“What is it?” asked Harry in a high voice that wasn’t his own.

Harry pulled his ill-fitting glasses off his face. He could see better now, but only saw the shocked faces around the table.

He looked down at his hands.

Except, they weren’t his hands.

He moved his hands, watching in utter disbelief his unnaturally long, white fingers.

He looked up again to see Bateman withdrawing a sidearm.

“No!” screamed Hermione, lunging for Bateman but was tackled expertly by Hope.

“No, it’s Harry. I promise you, it really is Harry!”

Bateman hesitated.

“Professors?” he asked.

Slughorn and McGonagall seemed lost for words, but Hagrid spoke up.

“If Hermione says it’s ‘Arry, we can’t afford to do anythin’ rash,” he said firmly.

Bateman lowered his gun and nodded to Duke who was standing behind Harry.

Harry turned but was immediately hit hard on the back of his head. He fell heavily, hitting his head again on the table, and lost consciousness.

*

Harry made no attempt to move. His head was pounding and he suspected he would open his eyes to find himself bound at the very least.

He wondered vaguely, with no thought of revenge, which one of them had hit him.

Harry lay for a moment, trying to remember. He had the feeling that he had drifted in an out of dreams while he had been unconscious. He couldn’t remember any details of the dreams, but he was aware that this was the first time in ages that he had dreamed at all.

That had disturbed him a little.

Given the trauma of Dumbledore’s death, Harry had expected to have nothing but nightmares; especially as Dumbledore occupied so much of his waking thoughts.

In the beginning, he had been completely unable to sleep at all. When exhaustion finally claimed him, he had assumed that he had been just too tired to dream.

Just lately, though, he hadn’t been so sure.

He was about to open his eyes when Harry became aware that someone was having a quiet conversation.

Harry strained to recognise who it was.

“Well, at least he’s looking like himself again.”

That was Ron, Harry realised.

“Yes, Professor Slughorn guessed the effect would wear off after a couple of hours. Thankfully he was right.”

Harry recognised Hermione’s voice.

They were quiet a moment and Harry assumed they were looking at him. It sounded like they were a few feet away from him. He was about to pretend to wake when they continued talking.

“I’ve never seen You-Know-Who before,” said Ron seriously. “He certainly looks a piece of work, doesn’t he?”

“Looks can be deceiving, Ron. But I agree, he did give me quite a shock too.”

“Everyone got a shock, Hermione. I’d never have believed Slughorn could run so fast.”

“Well, he was probably going for help.”

“Yeah, right,” Ron said sarcastically.

“I can’t get the look on Bateman’s face out of my mind,” admitted Hermione. “I was so sure he was going to shoot him.”

“He may yet.”

“Not while we’re here, he won’t.”

“Hermione, you are sure it’s Harry, aren’t you?”

“How many more times, Ron? Yes! I’m positive it is Harry.”

“No one has known where

You-Know-Who has been for the last year, have they?”

“I hardly think Voldemort would spend a year at Hogwarts impersonating Harry.”

“No?”

“Ron, you’re his best friend. I do think that even you might have been a little suspicious. Tom Riddle was brilliant academically. You can hardly say that of Harry.”

“Well, he might have just pretended.”

“Why would he save you from that poison then?”

“Actually, I thought that Harry thinking of using a beazor was a bit suspicious, actually.”

“Well, yes,” she admitted. “Mind you there were no Quidditch cups with Riddle’s name on them.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about that. Harry got the ability to speak Parcel Tongue from You-Know-Who, right? What if You-Know-Who learned to play Quidditch from Harry.”

Hermione snorted loudly and Harry could hear her trying to stifle her laughs.

“What?” asked Ron, sounding offended.

“Harry was only a year old when Voldemort attacked him. Do you really think that Harry’s flying skills would have been much good at that age?”

“Well, he has a lot of natural talent.”

Harry was struggling not to laugh as well at this point.

“Look,” said Ron seriously, clearly trying not to lose the argument so badly. “How do you really know that it’s Harry?”

Hermione sighed, composing herself again.

“It’s like I said before. I have always been able to read Harry. I may not always know what is on his mind, but I know his moods. I know when he’s happy, sad, or angry, and such like. Very occasionally, I get flashes of something more.

“The strongest was the time Professor Moody told us about the Unforgivable Curses. When he told everyone about how Harry was the only one known to have ever survived an Avada Kadavera curse, all I could see was anguish. He was so upset by that.”

“Yeah, I remember. Have there been any other times?”

“Um, one or two,” she replied evasively. “It’s usually when he’s feeling very emotional. He’s calmed down a lot lately, so it’s less easy to tell. Last year he was like a beacon of rage, especially after his Occlumency lessons with Snape.”

“But you’re still sure, even though he’s acted differently this last year?”

“Well, yes. Unfortunately, I can’t show you proof of what I can see.”

“What do you see now?”

“Pain. Not physical pain. No, he’s still feeling an emotional pain.”

“Well, he did feel close to Dumbledore.”

“Yes, but it’s something more as well. While we were speaking earlier, I could see his anguish inside. It was as if I was causing him more pain, but on the outside he acted just as normal.”

They were quiet for a few moments.

“Hermione?”

“Hm?”

“I’ve been thinking. We are doing the right thing, aren’t we?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, You-Know-Who is getting stronger and stronger, isn’t he? It won’t be long before things get as bad as they were before. Maybe they are as bad, with Dumbledore gone.”

Ron paused to take a deep breath.

“Lots of people are going into hiding until it’s all over.”

“When will it be over, Ron? If Voldemort wins it will never be over.”

“All I’m saying is that the chances of You-Know-Who being defeated now are virtually zero. Dumbledore was our only chance.”

“No, Ron. Harry is our only chance. Dumbledore kept Harry alive for as long as he could.”

“Yes, but Dumbledore wasn’t even killed by You-Know-Who himself. How can Harry possibly even survive to meet You-Know-Who, let alone win.”

“I think that without help, Harry has no chance. I think Dumbledore knew he was risking his life every time he defied Voldemort. I don’t know how afraid he was inside; he always gave the impression of being utterly unafraid to confront evil. I’m certainly afraid, but there is nothing that will stop me doing by level best to help Harry. I don’t want to die, but to be honest I’m more afraid of the consequences of Voldemort winning.”

“So, you do believe in the Prophecy?”

“No, I believe in Harry,” she replied firmly. “So did Dumbledore.”

“All I’m saying is that we should be sure.”

“Well, I am. If you are having second thoughts, Ron, I suggest you say something before Harry confides anything more to you.”

“What you saying?”

“Harry chose to confide in us, Ron. No one else; just us. It’s obvious that today’s tests were all about making sure we are ready to hear more. I suspect that there’s quite a bit Harry hasn’t told us yet.”

“Like what?”

“Well, like what he’s seen in Dumbledore’s other memories and his ideas for what the other Horcruxes might be and where we should start looking. Anyway, that isn’t my point. We already know enough information to seriously hurt Harry if it falls into the wrong hands.”

“So, Harry might want to have our memories modified?”

“No. He knows memory charms can be broken.”

Ron gulped audibly.

“Yes,” agreed Hermione. “I’m sure that’s why Bateman and his friends are really here. They wouldn’t shy away from anything unpleasant like murder, I suspect.”

“What do we do?”

“Ron, all I can say is trust Harry. If you really are having doubts, then tell Harry. He’ll find a way. I’m sure he won’t allow them to shoot you, but at the same time he wouldn’t want you to stay because you were too afraid to leave.”

They were quite for a while.

“You remember what I accused you and Harry of?” said Ron quietly.

“How could I forget?”

“Well, I’m not entirely sure I believe you.”

“Me or Harry?”

“You both said more or less the same thing, actually.”

“So, we’re both lying?”

“No, I don’t think you were lying. I was wrong about that.”

“Yes, you were. So what don’t you believe then?”

“Well, whilst I think you told the truth, I don’t believe you’ve never had feelings for him.”

“I don’t believe I ever dignified your accusation with an answer one way or the other, actually.”

“That’s not very reassuring, Hermione.”

“Tough. Either you’ll believe me or you won’t, but I hope you won’t take your jealousy out on Harry. He’s had enough to deal with lately without you adding to his problems. Incidentally, I seem to recall telling you the consequences of what you said to me. Perhaps I should have been a little plainer.”

“I was kind of hoping we could just forget that. You know, pick up from before,” Ron said hopefully.

“No, Ron, we are not just going to forget that. I’ll forgive you, because despite everything I do care for you, Ron. But I won’t forget, not until a much more mature Ron convinces me he’s changed.”

“Mature? Sounds like you’re just pining for Harry. Hey, put that wand away!”

Harry heard footsteps approaching and they broke off their conversation.

“I’ll stay with him for a while,” said Professor McGonagall kindly. “Hagrid will be along in a few minutes to keep me company. I suggest you go and get something to eat. Sergeant Bateman has promised not to shoot Harry for now, but I will remain here just in case.”

Harry tried to stir, but he realised he couldn’t move his limbs.

Soon he was drifting back to sleep.

The Deceiver’s Distillation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 8: The Gift

Harry found himself sitting in a large wooden, high backed chair, laughing so hard he couldn’t breath. His eyes were watering and he was beginning to feel faint through lack of air.

He steadied himself on the wide arm rests to the throne-like chair and breathed shallow breaths until he recovered a little.

He looked across to the four long dining tables and smiled.

Most of the assembled Death Eaters were drunk and several were strewn across the floor. His eyes lingered on Snape for a moment. He was certainly sober, though, and looking most uncomfortable.

Harry looked down. At his feet, a fallen Centaur, covered in blood was about to breathe his last breath.

Harry instinctively knew that it was the Centaur’s humiliation that had caused so much mirth. So much so, he realised, that Voldemort had lost control and allowed him an unintentional glimpse through his eyes again.

Harry relaxed, allowing Voldemort’s pleasure to flow through him.

He knew the Centaur was finished. The twisted and broken legs were twitching and as his gaze went to the Centaur’s face he began to convulse violently.

Harry defocussed and allowed himself to fall away slightly from Voldemort’s consciousness.

It would be better if he lost the connection than give himself away by reacting. He was afraid, at that moment, of recognising who the Centaur was.

The Centaur died just as Harry left, but no-one other than Voldemort appeared to pay him the slightest attention.

*

Harry woke and immediately opened his eyes. He reached for his glasses. Sunlight was streaming into the Hospital Wing. Next to him, Professor McGonagall was dozing in a chair. Hagrid had pushed four beds together and was snoring loudly opposite from him.

He gave a start when he saw Bateman sitting looking at him, gun in hand.

“Aren’t you afraid of that thing going off accidentally?” Harry asked in a croaky voice.

Bateman smiled and shrugged before holstering the pistol.

“Is that wise?” asked Harry.

“This was just a precaution. Believe it or not,” said Bateman quietly, “I didn’t actually want to shoot you.”

Harry raised his eyebrows.

“Well, maybe I did when you changed like that. It only occurred to me afterwards that you might have been slipped something to make us believe you were an impostor.”

Harry nodded.

“Voldemort’s celebrations are still continuing,” he said rubbing his hair. “The really scary thing is that he may have predicted that I would use the Deceiver’s Distillation.”

“You think he really did predict that?”

“I don’t know. He could have had an informant, but the number of suspects is very small.”

“Too small to be credible, actually.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, how many people knew about it apart from you? Slughorn,” Bateman said counting off his fingers, “McGonagall and Hagrid.”

“Except, Hagrid didn’t know what it was Slughorn was brewing.”

“Yes, but he knew it was significant. That alone could have tipped Voldemort off.”

Harry nodded in agreement.

“More importantly,” continued Bateman, “there was no time to administer anything. Slughorn said the potion had to be several months old.”

“Assuming he can be trusted.”

“Well, McGonagall confirmed what he said was true. She also checked what Slughorn had prepared.”

“Um, that’s Professor McGonagall,” stressed Harry realising that she was awake and listening to their conversation.

She smiled at him and straightened herself up.

“What else do you think, Sergeant?” she asked, pointing her wand at her face and giving it a casual wave. She was clearly freshening herself up.

“Well, I was wondering if we exposed something in Harry a little early. I mean, what if Harry had transformed like that in front of a crowd of people. There’d be panic and instantly he’d become the most wanted man in the country.”

McGonagall stopped waving her wand and said thoughtfully, “You know? That’s actually rather astute. Voldemort would certainly enjoy such a plan. I wonder when he proposed to implement it?”

Harry was heartened to hear her use Voldemort’s name.

“Well,” said Harry, “Scrimgeour wanted me to go to the Ministry and endorse them. I’d have been mobbed by reporters, I expect.”

“Indeed,” she agreed. “I wonder how many he’s got working for him in the Ministry?” she added darkly.

She turned to Harry.

“Harry, I don’t wish to seem inhospitable, but I think you should consider leaving Hogwarts a little earlier than perhaps you planned. We will have the School Governors here shortly, and I’m afraid I can’t vouch for all of them.”

“I understand, Professor. Thank you for allowing us to stay for as long as we have. Will the school be open next year?”

“I honestly cannot say. I suspect it will, but I’m very much afraid of what will happen. Both the Governors and myself have received an extraordinary number of applications for teaching posts.”

“Voldemort’s supporters no doubt,” said Harry bitterly.

“No doubt at all. I’ve applied for the post of Headmistress, but my support is limited. I know that the Governors have been under extraordinary pressure from the Ministry to appoint an outsider to the post.”

“No,” breathed Harry, suddenly afraid of the implications of having an active Voldemort supporter as Head.

“Oh, don’t worry too much about it. Albus took certain steps to protect the school. He knew for some time that this might happen. A politically appointed Head will find it very difficult to properly administer the school. Indeed, they may even have trouble getting into certain parts school.

“However, you will always be welcome here, Harry. The castle and grounds will always admit you.

“You won’t need to bother asking permission to enter, should you wish to use the library or any other part of the castle. Just Floo to the Room of Requirement. The Room has been closed to everyone except you, Hermione and Ron. You’ll step into a room with several fireplaces, each leading to somewhere in the castle.

“Now that you’ve each taken the Deceiver’s Distillation, no one who was impersonated you using Polyjuice Potion will be able to enter, obviously.

“Oh, and if you do not wish to Floo, you will find that an entrance in the perimeter wall will open just by tapping the stone with your wand. Don’t attempt to allow anyone else to enter, though. It would be fatal to them. Ron and Hermione can enter the grounds that way, but only your wand will form an entrance.”

“Wow, thank you Professor.”

“Well, you should be thanking Albus, actually. Of course, I’ll always be glad to see you should you wish to pay us a visit. You’ll find the Room of Requirement will supply you with almost anything you need, from Dark Detectors to Potions Ingredients. It will also supply gold, should you have expenses, but I’d recommend you only use that in emergencies. You see, the money is taken from the school accounts. If there is another Headmaster, they would know that the Room supplied you.”

Harry nodded.

Professor McGonagall stood and smiled down at him.

“I’ll send Ron and Hermione up to you shortly, once Poppy has discharged you. Please wake up Hagrid before you go. He’d never forgive me if you went without saying goodbye.”

“I will,” said Harry, smiling at her.

“Good luck, Harry,” she said warmly. “I take it you’ll be taking your toy soldiers with you?”

Bateman grinned and nodded.

“Yes,” said Harry. “We’ll need their protection for a while longer, but then we’ll part for a while.”

“Trust no-one,” she said seriously, “and tell no-one of your entire plans.”

*

Harry groaned reaching over the two squabbling house elves and lifted the rucksack they had been fighting over out of both their hands.

“I thought I made myself clear,” said Harry. “This fighting has to stop.”

Dobby looked absolutely distraught at this mild rebuke but Kreacher’s smile told Harry that he was enjoying provoking Dobby.

“Kreacher, I thought I told you to wear the clothes that Dobby got you?”

“Kreacher won’t wear clothes!”

“It is my wish that you smarten yourself up,” said Harry. “I want you to wear something presentable.”

“Then why doesn’t Master give Kreacher clothes?” replied the elf with a defiant grin.

Harry knelt so he was almost down to Kreacher’s eye level.

“Kreacher, you are my responsibility. I will free you when you are ready, but not yet. Now, are you coming with us or do you want me to command you to remain here at Hogwarts?”

“Kreacher does as he is ordered!”

“I will not order you to come with me, Kreacher. It may be dangerous, but to be honest Hogwarts may not be a great place to be for a while.”

“What does Master want?”

“I will be pleased to have your company, but only if you are sure.”

Dobby was looking thunderous as Harry turned to him.

“Dobby, you are a free elf.”

“Dobby is coming with Master Harry and won’t take no for an answer.”

Harry smiled warmly at him and said, “Thanks, Dobby. What about Winky?”

Dobby’s ears appears to droop a little as he said, “Winky wishes to remain at Hogwarts.”

Harry placed a reassuring hand on the elf’s shoulder and said, “You can visit her anytime, Dobby. Maybe she’ll change her mind later.”

He lifted up the rucksack and asked, “So, what’s in here?”

“It is a gift, Harry Potter!” said Dobby, sounding happier. “There is one each for you, Master Ron and Miss Hermione. You each have an invisibility cloak and some premixed Potions as well as some booklets on Survival Spells. They are Ministry of Magic Auror fields kits.”

“Wow,” said Harry peeking inside a couple of the pockets. “Who gave us these?”

“It was Mr Shacklebolt, Sir!”

*

Harry reached out and pulled the rucksack out of Ron’s hands before he had the chance to open it.

“Hey!” complained Ron.

“You’ll have plenty of time to look through this later, Ron. Right now I need to talk to you both. Please take a seat.”

Harry, Ron and Hermione sat down. They were alone in the Room of Requirement, which was empty apart from three plain timber chairs facing each other.

“I’m sorry to drag you both all the way up here, but I wanted us to be able to talk in private. I wanted to speak to you both before we leave.”

Hermione nodded seriously, giving Harry her full attention. Ron was still eyeing the unopened rucksack.

“First of all, I want you to know how much I appreciate your support,” said Harry with a smile, looking from Ron to Hermione. “I would never have even had an opportunity to fight without your friendship and support. It has meant everything to me. I want you to remember that.”

A small frown appeared on Hermione’s face.

“What are you trying to say, Harry?”

Ron looked curiously at Hermione and then immediately back to Harry.

Harry hesitated and then said gently, “I’m not taking you with me. Either of you.”

They sat in stunned silence for a moment.

“W-Why, Harry?” stammered Hermione.

“Yeah, why?” added Ron.

Harry sighed and said, “Our strength has always been our trust. I have always trusted both of you implicitly, and I like to think that the same applies to both of you.”

They nodded in agreement.

“Ron, you don’t trust me right now and you may not entirely trust Hermione. You are suspicious and jealous. It really doesn’t matter if you are right or not, it is your feelings that are important. For my part, I’m concerned that you’ll do or say something that may compromise us. If there is any amount of resentment at the back of your mind it may influence you.”

Ron sat open mouthed for a moment. He began to shake his head and Harry fully expected him to vehemently deny what Harry had just said.

Then he became still and said, “Actually, Harry. You’re right. Well, in part, you’re right. I did think you were likely to make a move for Hermione. I’ve thought that for quite a while. To be honest, I think that was mainly because you two are so close. I’ve lost count of the times you two are so much in tune with what you’re thinking and what’s going on its just weird.”

Hermione was looking at Ron in mild shock. Harry was a little surprised that his friend would or could make such an admission as well.

“But the thing is,” continued Ron, “I think I could get over it. I mean, I know I can trust both of you and I have no right to be that selfish, even if-” he trailed off. “It might take me a little time, but I honestly think we could overcome this.”

Harry smiled and said warmly, “Yes, Ron, I’m sure you would too. But in the meantime, you must be regarded as a risk, albeit a small one.”

Harry turned to Hermione, but didn’t speak.

She looked back defiantly at him for a long moment before her cheeks grew red and her lips began to quiver.

Ron looked quite stunned and made to reach out uncertainly to her. Hermione shrugged him off roughly and burst into tears.

“How long have you known?” she managed to say between great sobs.

“What are you talking about?” asked Ron.

Harry remained silent as Hermione continued to sob. Ron looked helplessly between them.

“Is one of you going to explain any time soon?” Ron asked in frustration.

“Don’t worry. I’ll never speak of this,” said Harry getting to his feet. “As far as I’m concerned, nothing has changed. I will always cherish your friendship, Hermione. If ever you need-”

“SHUT UP!” she yelled at the top of her voice. “JUST SHUT UP!”

Hermione panted a couple of times before adding, “Don’t you dare tell me nothing has changed!”

Harry took two steps towards the door before Ron caught hold of his arm.

“Harry, sit down,” he ordered shakily. “Please?”

Harry felt torn. On the one hand he wanted to leave and never look back. On the other he wanted to stay. In the end Ron’s tug on his arm sent him back to his chair.

“Good,” said Ron trying his best to sound calm. “Now it’s just a wild guess, but I’d say that Harry knows whatever this thing is, Hermione. I also think, from his silence, that he needs you to confess before he’ll think about forgiving you.”

“There’s really nothing to forgive, Ron,” insisted Harry.

“Oh, yes there is,” said Hermione thickly, wiping her eyes.

They sat quietly for a long moment, Hermione dabbing her eyes and sniffing.

“I’m sorry Harry,” she said eventually. “You are quite right, of course. You can’t trust me, not after what I have done. I’m so sorry. How much do you know?”

Harry shook his head and said, “I need to hear it from you. If I tell you what I know, you might be tempted to lie about what I don’t. I’d never know if you were just trying to make the best of a bad situation.”

Ron was frowning now.

“Um, do you two want to talk in private?”

“No, Ron,” said Hermione. “I need you to know too. It’s been horrible. I’ve been so scared you’d both find out, ever since-”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning, Hermione,” interrupted Harry. “Start with Diagon Alley.”

“No, Harry. It started at the Burrow, I’m afraid.”

Harry smiled sadly.

“Oh, of course, you knew about the Burrow too?” said Hermione with dawning comprehension.

Harry nodded and said gently, “I needed you to admit it. There’s actually quite a lot I still don’t know.”

“Hermione, could you just get on with it?” complained Ron.

“Yes. But first I also want to apologise to you, Ron.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry while you were still talking to me.”

The Deceiver’s Distillation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 9: The Only Logical Course

Hermione took a deep, steadying breath before speaking. Looking up, still blinking back tears, she began.

“Actually, I suppose it all started during the last term of our Fifth Year. You see I’d just confiscated a number of very dubious items from Lavender and Parvati. One of the items was a phial of a home made love potion. Parvati was convinced it was perfect, but you know how hopeless at potions both of them are.”

“Thankfully I stopped them before they had a chance to test the stuff. Anyway, we had quite a row about it. In the end Ginny had to intervene before we really came to blows.

“Anyway, Ginny dragged me off to calm down and we got to talking. First of all we just spoke in general terms. You know, what you’d need to make a proper love potion. Then we decided to have a go. Just to see if we could do it. After all, love potions weren’t anything serious. It was all just a bit of fun.

“To be honest, our first effort turned out to be worse than Parvati’s. Then Ginny remembered a book her Mum said she had used. It took us ages, but eventually a Seventh Year found it for us in the Restricted Section.

“Our second batch was much better, but it went off very quickly. It got too strong to use after only a very short while.

“Then, I had this idea. If the potion could be absorbed through the skin, then it wouldn’t matter if it was too strong to ingest. We decided to try an assortment of things to hold the potion, but in the end we decided upon one of Fred and George’s Skiving Snackboxes. They had developed a harmless porous base that was ideal for holding potions.

“This was all out of academic interest, you understand?”

Harry remained silent, not daring to speak his mind.

“Anyway, when I arrived at the Burrow last summer, Ginny and I had a long conversation. I confided one or two things to her and she confided in me. She, without realising it, persuaded me to take, er, some direct action.

“Harry, you have to believe me when I tell you that Ginny had no intention of actually using the potion. We just joked about it, but I realised it actually made perfect sense. We found out you were coming to the Burrow and that was when I decided to put the Skiving Snackbox under your pillow. It only became apparent later that we’d got the potion wrong somehow. I think Fred and George’s original concoction may have affected it.

“After that, of course, I mostly stuck to Fred and George’s Wonder Witch products. They worked much better, after a while.”

“Hang on,” said Ron. “How much of that stuff have you been putting around?”

“I only used it on Harry.”

“Why?”

“I wanted us all to be happy. I knew how much Ginny cared for Harry and I was sure that he’d love her once he got past seeing her as your little sister. I also thought that once Harry was, er, taken, you’d finally pluck up enough courage to ask me out as well.”

Ron looked quite lost for words for a moment.

“You doped Harry just to go out with me?” he asked incredulously.

“I know it sounds terrible, especially when you say it like that.”

“No, Hermione, this isn’t something that just sounds terrible,” said Ron, his voice becoming angrier. “It is terrible.”

“Ron,” warned Harry. “Let’s let Hermione tell us in her own way.”

Hermione drew another long breath before continuing.

“It all went wrong almost straight away. Not only did Harry show none of the signs of being affected by the potions, Ginny carried on with Dean and you, Ron, took up with Lavender.

“I was furious with all of you, but I was quite convinced that my logic would prevail in the end. I kept on experimenting with the doses and I eventually brewed my own based upon my analysis of Fred and George’s potions.

“I know you won’t believe me, but Fred and George are actually being rather responsible with what they are selling. Their products are actually very mild and even expire if they are kept too long. They just revert to a harmless perfume.

“Anyway, I was almost at the point of giving up when you decided to use your Felix Felicis, Harry. I thought it was worth one more shot so I dosed you again that afternoon.”

“When did you tell Ginny?”

“I wasn’t going to, but she caught me adding something to your drink. This would have been some time after you’d been seeing her, Harry. She was furious. I tried to convince her that we should continue; that if we just stopped then you might behave unpredictably.

“Ginny didn’t agree though. I almost had her convinced before we both saw Bill and Fleur in the Hospital Wing. After that, seeing what true love is, we both knew it had to stop.”

Ron wiped his face with shaky hands.

“Hermione, you could go to prison for what you’ve done.”

“No, Ron,” said Harry. “The only real evidence is the test results done by Professor Slughorn. Those samples have been destroyed and, frankly, he was rather confused by the variation in the potions used. I only needed him to confirm it was only a love potion that I was given. For some time I was worried it was something worse.”

“Like something to transform you into Voldemort?” asked Hermione.

“We now know that was a side effect of the Deceiver’s Distillation, because of my link with Voldemort.”

Harry noticed Hermione’s slight frown and wondered if she knew he had just lied. Much to his relief, her face relaxed again and appeared to be content to let it pass though. He wasn’t quite ready to admit the truth about that just yet.

“But, Hermione, what if You-Know-Who found out what you were doing?” asked Ron, the volume of his voice rising. “He could have used you to slip something more lethal to Harry. You do realise that? Harry has been careful about what he eats and drinks all year. The only reason you were successful was that he trusted you. He never questioned that anything you gave him to eat or drink,” Ron finished angrily making Hermione wince in response.

As Ron spoke these words of anger, Harry felt the last of his own anger with Hermione slipping away. He really hadn’t been sure how he would react.

Ron stood with his hands balled into fists and said, “I need to get out of here before I say or do something I’ll regret later.”

The other two did not stop Ron leaving and sat in silence for some time.

“Hermione,” said Harry eventually, “You started S.P.E.W. on the strength of your conviction that it was wrong for the house elves to be enslaved, and yet you somehow justified to yourself that it was acceptable for me to be enslaved.

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand that, but do I forgive you. I’ve had some time to think about this, and I have to believe that you thought you were acting for the best.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

“The thing is, Hermione, I honestly can’t think of anything worse than making someone, anyone, act against his or her own free will. A love potion is really the same as an Imperious Curse, if you think about it.”

Hermione nodded and said thickly, “I know. That’s why I dropped the SPEW campaigning. It was an uncomfortable reminder that what I was doing was wrong.”

“There’s one thing I really can’t figure out, though.”

Hermione looked up.

“Why didn’t you just give Ron the love potion? Wouldn’t that have saved you an awful lot of trouble?”

Hermione grimaced.

“I suppose I owe you the truth. I’d rather Ron doesn’t find out, though.”

“Go on,” Harry urged, crossing his arms.

“This will sound awful. The truth is, although Victor was nice, I really didn’t fancy him that much. I was terribly flattered by his attentions, but I was never seriously attracted to him. Ron was the only other boy who ever showed any interest in me, Harry.”

“I still don’t get it.”

Hermione hesitated.

“I was utterly convinced that you and Ginny would get together anyway. I was only helping you both along a bit. I was far less certain with Ron.”

“But you just said, you’ve known for ages that Ron liked you.”

Hermione looked down.

“Oh, no,” breathed Harry. “That’s not what you meant, is it?”

Hermione shook her head slowly.

“You’re weren’t sure that you even wanted Ron? Was that because of his reaction to Fleur or was it just Lavender?”

Hermione mouthed timidly, “Neither.”

“Hermione, I really can’t believe this of you!” exclaimed Harry. “Are you seriously telling me that the only reason you went out with Ron was that you thought no one else wanted you? And to think how appalled I was at the lengths you were prepared to go to get Ron jealous.”

Hermione looked down, her face reddening again.

“You just thought you’d end up alone?” he said gently.

She nodded, apparently unable to look him in the face.

Harry got up and moved towards the door. Placing a hand gently on her shoulder, he said, “No more trying to manipulate people, right?”

Hermione shook her head.

“We leave in an hour. Get your things and meet us in the Great Hall.”

“What?” she said, jerking her head up.

“Well, we all make mistakes, Hermione. I’m very glad you told me. As terrible as your actions were, I really couldn’t face setting out without you.”

“Thanks, Harry,” she replied thickly.

Harry snorted to himself and said, “You know what the real irony in all this is? Now I know your real motives, and the depths you’d go to, to help me, I actually feel I trust you more. Mind you, that’s probably just another potion you’ve slipped me.”

Hermione immediately blurted, “No, Harry! I promise-,” but stopped when she saw the half grin on his face.

“Now, I’d better go and find Ron. You are going to have to find a way to let him down easy, if that’s what you really want to do. If you are going to have a problem with me asking him along as well, I need to hear it now.”

“No, Harry. I’ll find a way. I promise.”

Harry paused at the door and looked back.

“I did think of one more motive you might have had,” he admitted. “I assumed you thought I was running out of time to discover the power he knows not.”

*

“These kits must cost a fortune!” exclaimed Ron as walked and rummaged at the same time. “I’ve always wanted an invisibility cloak of my own. And we’ve got some of those potions that Slughorn kept on about. They’re supposed to be really expensive.”

Ron tripped slightly, still totally engrossed by the contents of his rucksack.

Harry turned back and said, “Ron, there’ll be plenty of time later to look through that stuff. Hagland and Smith have enough to worry about without watching to see if you’re going to fall into ditches.”

“Yeah, Harry. What ditches?” Ron asked before adding, “Woah,” before stopping abruptly at the edge of a deep ditch at the side of the road. Ron had walked on rather than follow the road around.

Ron looked up with an annoyed expression on his face.

“Some bodyguards you two are. Why didn’t you warn me?”

“Ron! How many more times?!” said Hermione, sounding distinctly put out. “They are not here to influence what we do or where we go, no matter how stupid you are.”

“But still,” complained Ron, turning and hurrying to catch the others up. “I mean, really. What’s the point?”

Harry just hoisted his rucksack higher and marched on up the hillside.

*

That evening, as the three of them sat around the campfire, Harry contemplated their first day away from Hogwarts.

Unfortunately, Ron and Hermione’s squabbles had escalated to the point where they were no longer talking. Ron hadn’t mentioned Hermione’s dosing Harry with love potion again, but Harry knew he was still greatly troubled by what he had just learned.

Ron also appeared to be put out by the compliments the others had given Hermione. Hope had been fascinated by the smokeless and invisible fire she had conjured, which was undeniably useful for remaining undetected.

Harry wondered where the others were. He knew they were still out there, in the darkness, watching over them. They had declined to camp with them. Harry knew this was only sensible, in case they were disturbed, but he would have liked to have their company.

He smiled remembering their surprise when Hermione had summoned Ron’s rucksack back to them after it had been accidentally kicked down the hill. Duke had been so impressed he had thrown it back down again just so she could show them again.

Harry had taken them aside and rebuked them for that, telling them how childish they were. Yes, Ron was being a pain, but Harry knew his moaning was just a reflection of his troubled mood.

Upon reflection, Harry realised that they were like children in many ways. Duke might be an experienced and deadly soldier, but his sense of humour was definitely childish. They were also, Harry realised, rather dependent upon being told what to do. He was sure that if Bateman hadn’t been off meeting Kingsley Shacklebolt, Ron wouldn’t have had his rucksack kicked down the hill.

As he thought that, he wondered if Bateman wouldn’t just have kicked Ron down the hill instead.

He snorted to himself, making the others look up.

Realising he didn’t really want to explain his mirth, Harry cleared his throat and said, “I think I’ll turn in.”

*

Initially, the next morning appeared to bring a truce between Ron and Hermione along with a dry, gentle breeze.

They packed up the camp and vanished every sign they could see that they had been there, and Harry was relieved that Hermione and Ron were again talking and things appeared to be less strained.

They set off again, and Harry thought everything was fine until around lunchtime.

He really had no idea what set them off, but what started as good natured banter rather quickly descended into waspish sniping.

He really didn’t want to get involved in having the same argument yet again, and was keen to be waiting at the place and time they had agreed to meet Bateman at.

Harry new it was probably a little stupid, but he felt he needed to push himself. At his side again, Duke and Careem quickened their pace to match his without complaint.

Bateman had instructed his men to provide any tuition, training and advice to the three of them as required or asked for. His one condition was that they had to actually do everything for themselves. Harry could and did ask about map reading, making camp, preparing food and rations and such like, but it was up to him to actually get everyone there.

Harry knew that he’d already made a couple of mistakes, one of which was his selection of campsite on the first night. Although he wasn’t about to blame them, he knew that he had been wrong to allow Ron and Hermione a vote in where they camped. It was becoming clear to Harry that democracy was a luxury his forthcoming campaign would need to do without.

The morning after that first night, the troupe walked through another campsite, the one selected by Duke and from where they had watched over the three of them that night. Apart from the vicinity to fresh water, relative protection from the weather, it also afforded excellent views of all the approaches.

It was a lesson that Harry would learn well. Duke confided to him later later that he’d made the same mistakes too the first time he’d been on a survival course. He wasn’t trying to annoy Harry by doing this. Rather, he was gently reminding Harry of all the things he’d been telling him.

Harry paused at the crest of the hill to check his map. The meeting point was just below. He quickly scanned the area below using his Omnioculars. It was clear.

Harry waited for the others to catch up but when he heard their bickering he turned and hurried down the steep path.

He arrived at the fallen tree a little out of breath, but happy that at least they had beaten Bateman there.

“Well done, Harry,” said Bateman.

Harry spun around to see Bateman grinning at him from the top of the fallen tree trunk.

“You were hiding under an invisibility cloak?”

“Nope, but I was hiding,” he replied nonchalantly, looking up the path at the others. “Did you learn much from your little jaunt?”

“Only that I should listen to what Duke tells me,” Harry replied flatly. Duke winked at him and Bateman smiled and nodded.

“Why are you so far ahead of the others?”

“I, er, got fed up of listening to them argue,” Harry admitted in an undertone as Ron and Hermione joined them.

“Well, I’d just tell them to shut up. There are occasions when instead of chattering and bickering, you’d be better watching out for each other. I’ve been stalking the three of you since yesterday morning. I got close enough to touch you two,” he said to Ron and Hermione. “I’m just glad you didn’t fall into that ditch I was hiding in.”

Ron snorted.

“On the plus side,” continued Bateman, “I can see that you are all getting used to a little physical exertion. I also think that Harry’s getting sufficiently good at this survival command to give one of you responsibility for selecting and setting up camp for this evening.”

Ron and Hermione looked horrified. They had decided it would be best to leave such decisions entirely to Harry after their previous disastrous advice.

“Who’s it going to be, Harry?”

“Ron, this time.”

“Okay,” said Bateman. “I need to fill Harry in on a couple of things, but then we’ll both be available to follow your orders, Ron.”

He turned and ushered Harry further down the path.

“Why did you choose Ron?” asked Bateman quietly. “He’s only going to get Hermione to tell him what to do.”

“Well, hopefully Hermione will realise that Ron needs to take some responsibility for himself.”

“Mm?” said Bateman, as they watched Ron follow Hermione down to a small stream, clearly planning on pleading for assistance out of their earshot.

Harry sighed and turned his back on them before walking on a couple of steps. Bateman smiled and joined him.

“What did you want to tell me?” asked Harry.

“We’ve had some intelligence. We think we know where they are.”

“Really?” said Harry with interest.

“Yes. There was a sighting two days ago which was confirmed yesterday.”

“What happened? Is it far? When can we go?” said Harry eagerly.

“Hang on,” said Bateman raising his hands. “There’s a lot that we still don’t know. We think we know where the arena is, but that’s only because it vanished. We have teams on standby in the area but so far no one has carried out a proper reconnaissance for fear of scaring them away.”

“I understand. What did you mean by arena? Is that a soldiering term?”

“Sometimes, but in this context, I’m afraid it isn’t. They really have built themselves what looks like an arena. We’ve had people checking the satellite photographs for any large structure that appeared or disappeared between passes. That’s how we located it.”

“How detailed are the photographs?”

“Detailed enough for us to think they are holding gladiatorial contests there.”

“No way,” breathed Harry.

“One thing, though. Kingsley thought it strange that we could see the arena at all. He thinks that either they are getting overconfident and lazy, or we were allowed to see it to lure us into a trap. Personally, I think it was the former. The location is rather remote and the satellite coverage over that area is classified Top Secret.”

Harry nodded.

“Can they really be still alive?” Harry asked after a moment.

“I honestly don’t know, but I think that’s too much to hope for. It’s just been too long. However, I also think it’s time you told your friends exactly what happened. I’m assuming they will be coming with us?”

“Yes, but I’m going to insist they stay out of the fighting. I was going to tell them before we left Hogwarts, and then again last night. The moment never seemed to be right though.”

The Deceiver’s Distillation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 10: The Arena

Harry crawled through the long wet grass on his front until he reached the open ditch. He stopped for a moment to listen before pushing himself through the hedge and into the dirty water.

He crept along the ditch for a few feet before he reached Ron. He was out cold and there was a nasty bruise welling up on his cheek already from where he had been hit.

Harry touched Ron’s wound lightly with the tip of his wand and the bruise almost disappeared.

He took a moment to wish once more that Ron had chosen to comply with his request for him to remain with Hermione, at least while they made their initial approach. This still might be a trap, after all.

“Ennervate,” whispered Harry.

Ron woke with a start and Harry clamped his hand over Ron’s mouth to stop him crying out.

Without removing his hand, Harry whispered urgently, “Be quiet, will you?”

Ron stopped struggling and nodded. Harry released him.

“They hit me!”

“Silencio!”

Ron’s mouth continued to move but no more noise came out of him.

“I’m sorry, Ron,” whispered Harry, who was seriously considering applying a full body bind curse to stop him from thrashing about.

“They only stopped you from making too much noise. Ron, you have to start thinking about your actions. You are putting everyone’s lives at risk, not to mention the people we are here to help. Now get a grip and start to consider that there is a large group of Death Eaters over there who would just love to capture us and have us perform in that arena of theirs.”

Ron’s angry, defiant look relaxed and he nodded apologetically.

“This is your last warning, Ron,” whispered Harry seriously as he continued past Ron along the ditch. He supposed he should be grateful they hadn’t given Ron a more lasting injury.

As he moved on, Harry saw a hand signal ahead. He froze instantly, and listened intently. His only movement was to duplicate the hand signal for Ron. As he made the signal he prayed silently that Ron was paying attention now.

Through the pre-dawn mist Harry heard a vehicle approach. It sounded like a small van travelling quickly.

Suddenly headlights lit up the hedge above Harry as the vehicle screamed past. All Harry saw was a white blur.

Then it was quiet again.

The hand dropped and another signal was given. Harry recognised the signal. Relaxing a little, Harry looked back at Ron and made to signal.

Except Ron wasn’t there.

Harry looked around desperately to try to find him. He was nowhere to be seen.

Harry knew that the signal to cross the road was imminent any time now. He was sure that Ron hadn’t been discovered. He’d have kicked out and made a noise. Harry realised that it was much more likely that Ron had gone back through the hedge and across the fields to where Hermione, Hope and Carlyle were still waiting. The others would assume he was still unconscious, of course.

He knew that Ron was reaching the end of his tether.

First, there had been the argument over the camp site. Hermione had chosen pretty much the perfect location. It was dry, sheltered, had an excellent outlook of all the approaches and was close to fresh water. Bateman had complimented her on her selection, asking her what her second choice would have been.

Hermione admitted she had also considered another location further up the hillside that was further away from the water. Bateman then explained that she had identified his first choice. His reasoning being that if he was tracking someone, the campsite would be the first place he would look for them.

Bateman had then turned to Ron, who should have selected the camp location. In a very awkward moment, Bateman demanded that Ron select the next campsite on his own.

“If I get injured, I’d expect any one of my men to take charge according to the chain of command,” Bateman had said. “You can’t expect other people to do everything for you. You need to be there for them.”

“I’m here aren’t I?” spat Ron angrily.

“That isn’t enough. Look, I know all this seems pretty stupid. I really don’t care if you never select the right campsite. That isn’t the point.”

“Just what is the point then?”

“You need to become an asset. Right now, you do have skills that could be classed as assets, but mostly you are a liability.”

“What are you talking about?”

“There will come a time,” said Bateman seriously, “when your friends will need to rely on you to help them, and they won’t be there to tell you what to do. I need you to get used to making decisions, good or bad, and running with them. Indecision simply costs lives in the long term.”

“But what if I made the wrong choice?”

“So what? If it’s not critical, it won’t matter. If it is, you simply adapt from your present position.”

Ron sighed.

“Think about this,” urged Bateman, and it was never more clear to Harry that he was used to being challenged by some of his young recruits. Harry wondered how many lives he’d saved through his insistences.

“Just suppose you decided we should go and sit in the stream for the night. Once you’ve ordered it, that’s what we do. After you’ve got wet for a while, it may occur to you that we should move. It might even occur to you as we all approach the water.

“It really doesn’t matter whether it is a right decision or not. I know it isn’t easy to make decisions sometimes. Sometimes there really isn’t a right decision. There can be a real risk that you’ve placed someone in danger.”

“So, what you’re saying is, don’t be afraid to make a wrong decision.”

“Well, almost. You still need to accept responsibility for the consequences of any decision you make.”

Harry had been pleased that Ron appeared to accept what Bateman was telling him, and he was beginning to become more optimistic as they had set out again the next morning.

By nightfall, though, things were going from bad to worse for Ron.

Another hand signal brought Harry out of his reverie. As one, all six of them climbed out of the ditch and crept across the road and then walked along the narrow grass verge. Harry was careful to not to fall behind nor to get too close to the person in front.

A hand signal was given ahead and Harry crouched down.

There was perhaps twenty seconds of silence followed by a dull cracking noise ahead. Suddenly they were all on their feet and now running in single file towards their destination.

Harry struggled to keep up with the others. He had been waiting for this to happen but had still been caught out by the suddenness of the events.

There was a light ahead, dulled by the mist, and he could sometimes see indistinct outlines of those ahead as he ran.

After a run of what he guessed was about a hundred yards, Harry came to an abrupt halt. He almost ran straight into the back of Duke.

He fully expected Duke to rebuke him, but was somewhat taken aback to see him silently grinning at him through the dim light. Duke grabbed Harry’s shoulder and pushed him in through the open gate.

Harry didn’t protest, knowing they couldn’t afford him wandering off and giving away their presence. Walking now, they passed a small hut. Harry could hear muffled talking from inside, but he couldn’t tell if it was only the noise from a radio.

They paused for a moment. While they waited, Harry looked around.

It was still dark but the entrance they had come through had a couple of lights revealing a gravel road that was widened to allow vehicles to pass. Harry realised that Duke had directed him around the muddy edge so their footsteps had made no noise.

As his eyes became accustomed to the new light levels, Harry was shocked to see that there was a body concealed under the adjacent hedge. For a moment he feared it was one of the others, but Harry soon realised it must have been the guard on duty.

Harry was a little shaken by the sight of the body, which would be almost impossible to see from the road, even in daylight.

It wasn’t the sight of death that unnerved him. He had been expecting that. Indeed, he knew that many more would probably die very shortly in this place.

The guard was obviously a wizard and was, Harry assumed, considered sufficiently skilled to be posted on duty. And yet, Bateman or one of his Muggle soldiers had disposed of him.

Harry knew that they hadn’t been assigned to them for their conversation, yet this stark demonstration of their deadly skills was still rather shocking.

Perhaps Duke realised some of Harry’s thoughts. Still with his hand on Harry’s shoulder, he gave him an encouraging squeeze.

Harry nodded. This was no time to think such things.

There must have been a signal that Harry neither heard nor saw because Duke pushed him forward along the edge of the road for a few yards. Then they ducked under another hedgerow and Duke released Harry.

They moved quickly across a small field and then walked parallel to the approach road.

Harry gasped when he saw the arena. It just seemed to appear from nowhere. It must have been charmed so they couldn’t see it from the road.

The closest thing Harry had seen like it was the stadium at the Quidditch World Cup, except that it was perhaps half the size and less ornamentally decorated.

The mist above the stadium was glowing with bright lights and the outside was covered in lanterns. There was noise ahead, but it didn’t appear to be coming from inside the stadium.

To the right of the arena was a collection of tents that surrounded a large wheeled structure. It looked most odd, looking like it was made of wood and stone with a stale covered pitched roof and ornate stained glass windows. The whole thing was perched on four spindly metal wheels.

It sounded like there was a raucous celebration going on inside.

Duke moved to the left, away from the encampment towards a darkened structure on the other side of the arena.

Harry’s heart leapt. Perhaps they could release the prisoners and get away without the Death Eaters even knowing.

The others were now all crouched down along the short wall. There were no windows or doors this side.

Harry made to join them on the end but Duke grabbed him and pushed him towards the front where Bateman was waiting at the corner.

Bateman beckoned Harry closer and he whispered in his ear, “There’s three doors on the far side. The first is a store but either of the other two might get us in. I need you to open one of them unless there is any kind of alarm. If you think they are both alarmed then we’ll go over the roof. Okay?”

Harry nodded and withdrew his wand.

He crept around the corner and followed the brick external wall. Bateman followed closely behind as they emerged from the undergrowth but Harry didn’t hear any of the others.

The first door was clearly just a store. Harry continued to the next.

In the half light, Harry could see that this was a sturdy looking door. It looked quite out of keeping with the ramshackle look of the rest of the building.

Harry swept his wand over the door, feeling for the residual vibrations his wand could pick up from charms placed upon the door. He’d learnt this trick from one of the books Sirius had left him. He concluded that the door wasn’t locked magically but there was definitely some kind of charm placed low down near the hinges. He was sure this was an intruder detection jinx.

He decided to check the other door and hardly had to raise his wand before he detected the heavy locking charms placed upon the door.

Harry stood back a moment. This door wasn’t nearly as sturdy looking as the other one and yet this one had all the locking charms on it.

Was it a trick? His instinct was that this was the door they needed to get into.

Bateman was watching Harry closely and appeared to realise his quandary.

Harry pointed at the door and Bateman nodded. He pointed his wand at the lock, again feeling for the locking charms. Realising that there was more than one, he dragged his wand around the perimeter until he’d caught them all.

With all four locks held in his mind, Harry mouthed

, “Alohomora!”

The door opened silently and Bateman entered at once. Harry followed and realised that some of the others were following closely behind him.

They passed through a short covered walkway and emerged into an open courtyard. Harry realised that this must have been an old stable building, except now the stable doors had been replaced with cell doors.

Bateman crouched down before they went out into the open.

Harry realised only just in time that there was an invisible tripping jinx across the exit. Bateman looked at him quizzically for a moment when Harry grabbed his arm, but nodded and drew back when he realised it was something he couldn’t see.

Harry disarmed the tripping jinx and Bateman indicated he should take the lead, directing him to move around the courtyard clockwise.

Harry moved out into the open, his left hand out to feel the wall and is wand in the other. He moved gingerly around a foul smelling water barrel and eventually came to the corner. It was frustrating not to just cut across to the first cell door, but Harry knew they had to remain cautious.

Just as they got to the first door, a light came on from the far side. It was coming from a small window. Someone had lit a lantern inside, but they couldn’t see inside because of a blind pulled down. Of course, that meant that anyone inside couldn’t see out either.

Harry unlocked the first cell door, but it didn’t open on its own.

Bateman pushed the heavy metal door open and Duke entered. They had agreed that Harry wouldn’t go into the cells but he illuminated his wand tip to give them some light to see by.

The cell was empty apart from some straw on the floor and fresh bloodstains were apparent on the rendered walls.

Duke immediately turned around and Bateman gently pulled the door closed. Harry had extinguished his wand and already moved to the next cell door.

They repeated the operation once more but this time the cell door opened inwards on its own. The prisoner was trying to get out on their own but Harry realised he might give the rest of them away. He raised his wand to the gap in the door and whispered,

“Silencio!”

Duke pushed him back into the cell and Harry again lit the cell. Duke held his revolver to the prisoner’s head and said, “You can behave and leave with us or you can be dead. Nod if you’re going to behave.”

The prisoner nodded vigorously and Duke pushed him out of the cell and back along the wall to hand him over to one of the others. Harry didn’t recognise him but the prisoner wasn’t injured.

Harry and Bateman moved to the next cell but that and the next one was empty.

They turned the corner and Harry moved to the first cell door, going past a normal looking door. Bateman paused at the door and Harry looked back before opening the cell door. Bateman pointed at the normal door and Harry nodded before gingerly moving back.

“Alohomora!” he whispered and the door clicked open.

Bright light flooded out of the door crack and Bateman immediately closed it again, clearly fearful that the light would be noticed. Bateman looked at the lit window and then made his decision.

He leaned close to Harry and whispered, “Alright. We go in quick. Don’t try and turn the lights off. You go in first and I’ll follow.”

The Deceiver’s Distillation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 11 - Alison and Jack

Harry nodded and Bateman pulled the door open. They both entered quickly and closed the door.

It took a moment for Harry’s eyes to adjust in the bright light. They were standing in a white tiled room with red quarry tiles on the floor. On the far side there were a row of white overalls hanging up and next to them was a wheeled stainless steel trolley. Everything looked spotless and there was a strong smell of disinfectant in the air.

Ahead was a darkened passage. Bateman took the lead but paused hearing movement further down the passage. They listened for a long while but it was again quiet.

Cautiously, they moved down the passage. Harry felt much happier as they moved into the darkness, and after a few yards he could see the faint outline of an open door. They peered out and found it was another corridor, only wider.

All along one side were strong cage bars that ran from floor to ceiling but it was too dark to see if there was anything inside.

Harry raised his wand but Bateman quickly grabbed his arm and shook his head. Harry nodded to indicate that he’d understood. Bateman didn’t want anyone or anything inside the cages to wake and give them away.

They crept right along to the end and found an unlocked door.

Inside was what looked like a surgical operating theatre, complete with blood soaked dressings strewn around the floor.

“Alright, now we look into the cages. Silence anything as soon as you see or hear movement,” said Bateman quietly, adding, “I’m beginning to fear we’re too late.”

Harry nodded. It did look like they were too late.

The first cage contained a large black panther, prowling silently up and down. The second was empty.

The third cage looked like it was recently occupied, but was empty.

They were about to move onto the fourth, when out of the darkness came a voice.

“Well, you certainly took your time.”

“Jack!” exclaimed Bateman, quite forgetting himself. “Keep your voice down!” he added in a loud whisper.

“No need,” said Gurnet. “We’re the only ones here now. Usually a new batch arrives around mid-morning.”

Harry’s euphoria was short lived as he realised that Gurnet was probably the only survivor.

“How do we get this cage open?” asked Bateman examining the thick bars, and bringing Harry back to himself.

“I can try and cut through the bars, but it would be easier to find the door,” said Harry.

“Don’t cut the bars. I suspect they are electrified or something. The animals won’t go near them. The door is on the opposite side. Just follow the corridor around. There’s no lock. Just a bolt.”

“Okay,” said Bateman. “I’ll go. Harry, stay here and look out.”

Bateman hurried off down the dark corridor and Harry lit his wand and pointed it into the cage.

His narrow wand beam lit up a battered looking face. When Gurnet broke into a grimace he revealed several missing teeth.

Harry gasped seeing the extent of his facial injuries.

“Alright, Harry?”

There was no hint of friendliness in his voice.

“Can you walk?” Harry asked, seeing he was hunched up on his bunk with a rough blanket covering him.

“I’ll manage.”

“I’m so sorry,” began Harry.

“Save it,” said Gurnet shortly.

“We’ll soon have you out and away from here.”

“We’re not going anywhere until we’ve dealt with the surgeon who was kind enough to operate on us.”

“We have to get you away,” insisted Harry. “It sounded like there were a lot of Death Eaters camping on the other side of the Arena.”

“Thanks for reminding me,” said Gurnet darkly. “We can destroy that place while we’re here too.”

Harry sighed.

“Did they make you fight?”

“Yes, they made us fight. I’ve killed at least two good men a day since I came out of surgery. They will pay for that.”

“Yes, but it may be better to come back with reinforcements.”

“Getting a little big for your boots, boy?” Gurnet said menacingly. “Who gave you the right to give me orders?”

“Let’s just do what Bear thinks,” urged Harry.

“I’m obviously still not good enough,” continued Gurnet, his voice getting louder.

Harry prayed that Bateman would hurry and find the door.

“Of course you are good enough,” Harry said reassuringly. “You were before.”

“Don’t you patronise me, boy!” shouted Gurnet and Harry decided he needed to be silenced.

Harry stepped back and pointed his lit wand at Gurnet again.

“Be quiet, Jack,” said a female voice.

Harry started and swept his wand light around the cage again, trying to find the owner of the new voice.

“I’m sorry,” said Gurnet gently, losing all of his aggression. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Harry still couldn’t see her.

“Why don’t you introduce us, Jack?”

Gurnet grimaced before lurching to his feet. He winced with pain from the effort as he staggered the few steps towards the bars. He looked slightly hunched as he leaned on the side wall for support, panting from the effort.

Harry was becoming increasingly concerned.

Gurnet loosened the filthy blanket slightly to reveal his neck. On Gurnet’s left hand side a clump of blood matted dark coloured hair was revealed, in contrast to his own brown coloured hair.

Gurnet glared at Harry for a moment before turning his back to him. When Gurnet was facing the door at the back of the cage, he lowered the blanket over his back and a young woman lifted her head a fraction.

Harry realised that Gurnet must have been carrying her, except something wasn’t right.

She smiled at Harry as Gurnet said, “Potter, this is Alison Weston, someone you aren’t fit to even speak to. Alison, this is the scum kid that got us into this mess.”

Harry could only see half her face as the blanket obscured half her features. He guessed she was in her late twenties and thought she had a demure look about her. Her face was thin but not unnaturally so. He smiled seeing her rolling her eyes.

“Please call me Harry,” he said gently. “I didn’t see you before. Are you able to walk on your own?”

Gurnet and Alison snorted at the same time.

Harry wondered what the joke was.

“No, Harry,” said Alison, “I can’t walk on my own. I’m afraid the surgeon here did some elective surgery on us.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand.”

“Lower the blanket will you, Jack?”

Gurnet bowed his head slightly but didn’t lower the blanket.

“It’s alright, Jack,” she said gently. “They need to know. I’m not embarrassed.”

Gurnet pulled at the blanket and it fell to the floor. Harry gasped in shock as Gurnet turned around again. Harry felt he should avert his eyes and drop the light from his wand, but he couldn’t.

Alison had somehow been grafted onto, or perhaps more accurately, into Gurnet’s massive frame. It was as if he was carrying her, except that her torso had been sunk into his chest. At the top, Alison’s head and neck emerged from Gurnet’s shoulder. The side of her chin was fused to his skin, which is why her head had lain at such an odd angle.

Out of the side of Gurnet’s ribcage came a slender arm which was wrapped around Gurnet’s back. Alison’s single remaining arm was covering an area of grafted skin with rough black stitches all around. Gurnet’s abdomen looked normal but both his thighs looked unnaturally thick. It took a moment to realise that Alison’s upper legs had been grafted on as well.

There was the sound of a sliding bolt and Bateman opened the cage door as Gurnet turned to face him.

Something of the revulsion that Harry felt showed on his face. He looked away when he realised what she was covering with her arm, feeling his face redden.

Bateman swore from inside the cage.

Harry knew that even in St. Mungos, nothing could be done for them. Alison had been twisted and broken by the operations they had endured. There couldn’t be enough of her left to survive being separated from Gurnet again. By the look of the raw and bleeding stitches where their skin was joined, it looked like infection or tissue rejection would soon see them both dead.

“There now,” said Alison tenderly, seeing Harry’s anguish. “It doesn’t hurt too badly, and Jack’s finally got the eyes in the back of his head that he always wanted. Well, almost.”

Harry smiled and looked back at her with watery eyes.

Gurnet brought his hand up to his chest and stroked the large area that was the remains of Alison’s back.

“Do you know how many other prisoners there are?” asked Bateman shakily. “We’ve only found one so far.”

“No, they make us train in the mornings and fight late in the afternoons. We’ve only seen our opponents in the Arena and the dead so far. Very few get selected for surgery. We’re the only ones that have survived so far.”

“Okay, we’ll check the remaining cells and then get out of here.”

“Give me a gun, John,” demanded Gurnet.

Bateman pulled out a spare revolver and clip and handed them to Gurnet.

“Thanks,” said Gurnet pulling the blanket over them again.

“What do you want to do?” asked Bateman.

“What you’d expect.”

“Okay. I’m coming too. Duke can take Harry and any other prisoners.”

“I’m not going if you’re not,” protested Harry. “If we do this, we do it together,” he added, sounding far more confident than he felt. “Time’s getting on. I’ll meet you by the entrance passage.”

Harry hurried back down the corridor and into the brightly lit room. He grabbed some of the overalls and selected a couple of the largest. He slit the shoulder of one and made another where he thought Alison’s arm would be. He also slit the legs so Gurnet’s widened thighs would fit.

Using his wand, Harry cut the second overall up so he had several large patches.

By the time he had finished, the others arrived.

“Here,” said Harry. “Put this on.”

“Those are white, you idiot,” said Gurnet. “We’ll be seen too easily.”

“Jack,” said Alison warningly.

Gurnet groaned and grabbed the overalls and quickly dressed. Harry held the patches over and used his wand to make the material threads weave themselves together. It was rough but it would do.

He adjusted the collar to allow more of Alison’s face to show and then stood back.

“What colour do you want?” he asked, raising his wand.

Using Hermione’s favourite colouring charm, he transfigured the white cloth to a mottled green and black before any of the others could answer.

“Thank you, Harry,” said Alison as Bateman turned the lights out and opened the door.

The scene outside was very different from the one they’d left. A small group of prisoners were huddled in the corner and all of the remaining cell doors were wide open. Duke was just finishing tying up a man in wizard robes who looked unconscious.

Duke hurried over to them.

“Sorry, but we were disturbed. We got the keys so we thought we would get a move on. I was just about to come and find you.”

Harry walked over and stunned the wizard, just in case he was faking.

Hagland came over and offered his backpack to Gurnet. He opened it and pulled out a selection of items including a lethal looking knife and several grenades.

“Hagland and Smith, you take the prisoners back to Bravo point and get the others to help them as best they can. Send the go code and then get clear. Don’t wait for us to follow.”

Smith nodded and they immediately ushered the small group of prisoners towards the exit.

“The bomb will be dropped at precisely twenty five minutes past the hour following the go code. I reckon we have fifty minutes, but if we give ourselves away too early they will just Apparate away,” said Bateman.

“Apparate?” said Gurnet, sounding confused.

“Yes,” agreed Harry. “If there’s any sign of an attack like that they will just vanish.”

“Oh, yeah. We’ve seen them do that.”

“We need to identify this surgeon. He’s our principal target.”

“Agreed,” said Gurnet. “He’s about five foot six inches tall and quite old looking. He’s got short grey hair and these weird staring eyes. We never heard his name being used. They just called him The Healer, which is rather ironic considering what his hobbies are.”

“How many were on his staff?”

“Just one nurse. She’s a sadistic blonde and wears too much makeup,” said Alison. “They had guards to move the inmates around, but they didn’t do any cutting.”

*

They got only as far as the other side of the old stable building when Gurnet had to stop. Wheezing and in obvious pain, he leaned heavily against the rough brick wall.

Harry turned to Bateman who was watching his old friend with concern.

Batemen walked over and stood beside him, waiting for him to recover.

“Alright, John. You win. I know you can’t risk my giving away your presence.”

“Thanks, Jack. We’ll meet up with you later.”

Gurnet turned and was lead away by Hagland.

“Good luck,” whispered Alison with a smile as they headed off towards the undergrowth. They would take a longer but slower way back to the assembly point.

Harry felt rather relieved that Alison wasn’t going to be put at further risk, although she hadn’t complained at all about being there.

Harry turned and waited for Bateman to lead them off.

“No, Harry, you take point. You are the least experienced and you’ll be using non-lethal force.”

“Point means you go at the front,” quipped Duke.

Harry set out and was almost immediately grabbed by Bateman and roughly put back on the correct course.

When they got to the first tents, they split up to go around them individually. As Harry caught up with Duke again, he was cleaning blood off his commando knife.

Harry was still staring at the knife when a tent flap opposite was flung open. Without thinking, Harry fired three stunners directly into the tent. The occupants collapsed at the entrance and Harry moved to look inside the spacious wizard tent. It was empty apart from the three unconscious wizards. Duke secured the tent flap closed and they moved on.

They heard a scuffle and they were about to follow when Duke shoved Harry into the shadow of another large tent, just as a dozen or so masked wizards walked past them towards the enormous carriage.

From their laughter and banter, it was clear that they had no idea they were under attack.

When they had passed, Harry looked around for the others.

They were nowhere to be seen. He assumed that Duke had hurried off to provide some assistance.

Harry turned suddenly. He was sure he had just seen movement in one of the shadows beside a group of smaller carriages.

Assuming it was Duke or one of the others, he followed as quietly as he could.

Making sure he stayed only in the darkest areas, Harry stopped often to look and listen. Then, for the barest instant, he saw her. It was Hermione, he was sure of it. He had no idea what she was doing here, but he had to make sure she was okay. He hurried to catch up with her.

Frustratingly, the open grassed area between them was lit by lanterns. Resisting the strong temptation to cut straight across, Harry went behind the carriages to stay in the darkness.

Just as he got to the other side, a door opened in the side of one of the carriages. Bright light flooded out for a moment as someone hurried out. Harry ducked down instinctively, but in the instant before the door closed again, he saw a familiar figure sitting inside.

Harry decided to investigate. As he continued along the shadows, he kept the image of what he’d just seen in his mind. He hadn’t been tied up, as far as Harry could see. He did look very nervous, though.

He crept over and listened at an open window on the other side of the small caravan like carriage.

“The Dark Lord grows impatient, Ollivander. Any more delays or excuses and you can expect to make a guest appearance in the Arena,” said a deep unfamiliar voice. “The Dark Lord has more than indulged your little peccadilloes, and now he wants results.”

“But my hands,” pleaded Ollivander. “How can I work shaking like this?”

“There’s nothing wrong with your hands.”

“Wand making is very delicate. That potion you keep making me drink makes my hands shake. If you want wands, don’t give me the potion. It would appear to be a choice simple enough even for you to understand.”

“Oh, it’s simple all right. No wands, no life. That’s your choice. And there is no way I’m stopping making you take that Anti-Apparition draft that Snape made up. If you got away, I’d get the blame.”

Harry heard the door open and slam close again. He waited but heard nothing further.

He decided right then to take Ollivander with them if he could. It sounded like he wasn’t a willing guest, anyway.

Harry raised himself up to peer into the open window. However, he found himself looking into the face of Mr Ollivander, who was looking back at him with a quite bemused expression.

“Mr Potter,” he said quietly. “It may not be entirely safe for you around here. May I suggest you depart?”

“Mr Ollivander,” whispered Harry, allowing the light from the window to light up more of his face, “I’d like you to come with me.”

Mr Ollivander didn’t react but a slightly confused expression grew over his face. He wiped his brow with a very shaky hand.

“They wanted me to make wands for them.”

“Okay,” said Harry, realising that Mr Ollivander clearly wasn’t quite himself. “Can you turn all the lanterns out and then come outside?”

Mr Ollivander considered this request and then obeyed. Harry crept around the other side and guided an uncertain Ollivander down the two steps.

Harry whispered, “We need to be quiet. No noise at all. I’ll guide you out of here.”

He then grabbed Ollivander’s shoulder and, just as Duke had done with him earlier, pushed Ollivander through the shadows towards what he hoped was safety.

The Deceiver’s Distillation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 12 - Attack

At the first shouts from across the other side of the encampment, Harry pushed Ollivander behind a caravan and struggled to get his invisibility cloak out. He threw the cloak over Ollivander, who appeared to be oblivious to his surroundings.

Harry grabbed hold of Ollivander’s robes through the slick fabric of the cloak and held his wand ready in his other hand. He couldn’t risk them both under the cloak. If there was fighting, he’d need his wand out in the open.

The sound of close automatic gunfire erupted through the air, making both Harry and Ollivander jump.

Harry pushed a reluctant Ollivander onwards, forcing himself to think kind thoughts about the confused old man. After all, it wasn’t really his fault that Harry hadn’t been able to catch up with Hermione.

A small group of confused wizards were assembling ahead of them.

“What was that noise?” Harry heard one say.

Harry fired a volley of stunners into their midst. He got four of them but two jumped to safety and returned fire. In the meantime, though, Harry had shoved Ollivander to the side, moving around a large tent.

There was a loud bang and a flash of light lit up the night for a moment. Harry had no idea if it was a wizard spell or one of Bateman’s ordnances.

Ollivander was by now actively resisting Harry’s attempts to get him out of there. Invisible under the cloak, he was beginning to make frightened whimpering noises.

Hearing rapid footsteps coming towards them, Harry instinctively turned and fired into the shadows. It was only after he’d fired that he realised with a shock of horror that he had no idea whether the person he was firing at was friend or foe. Fortunately, the figure sprawled before him was definitely foe.

Ollivander, feed from Harry’s grip in the same instant, stumbled forward.

Harry stooped to feel for his cloak, picked it up and stuffing it back into his robe pocket, ran after Ollivander who had moved surprisingly quickly.

To Harry’s great concern, Ollivander was wandering in the lit open space between a row of tents.

As Harry ran towards him, a group of four Death Eaters ran past Ollivander towards the camp centre where it sounded like most of the fighting was going on. Rapid gunfire was still punctuating the air.

A wizard in black emerged from one of the tents and immediately took direct aim at Ollivander. Harry fired as he ran, making the attacker duck down.

Harry hurled himself at Ollivander, throwing him roughly to the ground. Harry rolled over on the wet grass and fired again, hitting the wizard square on but attracting the attention of several more Death Eaters.

As a barrage of spells flew towards him, Harry felt Ollivander crawl off to the side.

Harry tried to follow but as a series of Reductor curses scorched the grass by his face, he was forced to roll the other way, finding some shelter behind a two wheeled cart.

As the cart began to disintegrate under the force of the spells being fired at it, Harry knew his position wasn’t good.

Harry looked around. He was very exposed. Behind him was open ground in front of the large main carriage. If he ventured that way he’d be cut down. He also realised that his invisibility cloak would be more of a hindrance than a help in this situation. He wouldn’t be able to run fast enough nor return fire from under the cloak. The density of firing meant he would stand a good chance of being hit at random anyway.

Just as his quandary reached its pitch, Bateman’s words came back to him.

“If you are outgunned and outnumbered, you are dead anyway. The only option that makes sense is to attack. Nine times out of ten an advantaged attacker will fall back in the face of fire. Just remember, you are dead anyway. Attack!”

Harry calmed himself and made ready to jump out from behind the cart which was by now ablaze.

He jumped out and fired. Harry prepared to run at his attackers who were now firing at from much closer, when a stunner barely missed his head.

Harry realised that shot had come from behind him. He was caught in the middle and now very exposed.

“You are dead anyway. Attack!”

Harry fired, picking out his targets and knowing he would be cut down at any moment.

“Get down, Harry!”

Harry had no intention of taking cover. He zigzagged out in front of the burning cart, firing as quickly as he could.

He glanced back and was amazed to see emerge and Ron blast the last of the attackers behind him off their feet. He then ran forward, drawing fire from Harry.

As Ron drew level with him, they both advanced quickly and their attacker’s resolve was broken. The surviving Death Eaters vanished into the darkness.

“Come on,” said Harry turning back. “Ollivander’s wandering around here somewhere. We need to find him. He’s not quite himself.”

“Harry, have you seen Hermione?” asked Ron as he following Harry at a run.

“I thought I saw her a bit earlier, but I might have been mistaken,” shouted Harry. “Why did she come into the camp?”

“Don’t know!”

Harry grabbed Ron and pulled him down as a low barrage of spells flew over them.

“It’s okay,” shouted Harry. “They’re not aiming at us. Thanks, by the way.”

“You can thank me by saying we can get out of here!”

Harry gave a groan and pointed out into the open.

“Look, over there!”

Hermione was pinned down beside the wide stone steps that led up to the great wheeled building.

Harry ran straight towards her but was immediately grabbed by Ron.

“No, Ron! Look, go around the outside and pick off as many as you can that are firing at her.”

Harry didn’t wait for Ron to respond. He shrugged him off and ran as fast as he could towards her, firing as he did so.

He hurtled into the low dip beside Hermione and had to crawl back a few feet to where she was still firing from.

“He got away from me again!” cried Hermione above the din.

“Yeah, I saw.”

“I think he went inside!”

“I suppose we’d better go and get him, then,” he replied with a grin.

Hermione grabbed his arm and shouted, “Harry, we’ll be cut down in all this fire. I’m amazed he wasn’t hit.”

“Don’t worry, Hermione. Ron and the cavalry are here,” he added, pointing out across to where he could see four machine gun muzzles emerging from the shadows beneath a row of smaller carriages.

The sound of mortars being fired came from the same direction. A moment later several explosions rocked the great wheeled building. At the same time the machine guns opened fire.

“Let’s go!”

Harry grabbed Hermione and dragged her at a run up the exposed stone steps.

*

Inside, Harry was amazed to find that the wheeled building was actually one great hall.

“Oh, my,” said Hermione as they walked along the deserted tables.

“Remind you of anywhere?” asked Harry unnecessarily.

He looked over to Hermione who was looking up. He looked up as well and realised that the similarities with Hogwart’s Great Hall continued to an enchanted ceiling. The pre-dawn sky was clearly visible.

Hermione halted when she caught sight of the great throne at the far end of the hall.

“Don’t worry, Hermione. Voldemort isn’t here, I’m sure of it.”

She nodded nervously, but appeared quite unable to tear her eyes away from the throne.

They emerged from between the tables at the far end and Harry went over and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

At last she turned her attention away from the throne and smiled weakly.

Harry was just smiling back when Hermione shoved him to one side. A red stunner just missed him.

They both fired back and a white clothed figure dashed from behind the throne towards the side door.

A bright green flash cut them down and the figure collapsed in a heap.

They ran over.

Ollivander was on both knees, concealed behind the long table on the far side. In a shaking hand he held a wand which was still pointing at his victim.

“I think that’s the Nurse,” said Harry, going over and turning her over.

Hermione was helping Ollivander to his feet.

“I had to do it,” he was saying feebly. “I couldn’t let her get away.”

Harry wondered just what Ollivander had witnessed.

“Look, we need to get out of here,” said Harry, looking at his watch.

Just at that moment the side door opened. Harry and Hermione levelled their wands at the opening door, but they lowered them seeing it was Careem.

“Ready to leave?” he asked with a grin, and hurling a large pack right into the centre of the hall.

“One moment,” said Harry, turning and walking to the throne.

“Er,” said Careem, “Harry, there’s a chemical timer on those explosives. We really do need to get a move on.”

Harry got to the chair and sat down.

Hermione hurried over to him, clearly both curious and wanting to hurry him out of there to safety.

Harry was looking down at the arms of the chair and the immediate floor. He closed his eyes, trying to remember every detail of his last vision through Voldemort’s eyes.

“Um, Harry?” Hermione said gently.

He opened his eyes again and smiled up at her.

“We can go now,” he said, jumping up. “What are we waiting for?”

Hermione found time to tut him as he grabbed her hand and they ran to the side door. Before they left, Harry turned and fired a reductor curse at the throne which immediately exploded.

*

The extraordinary sight of a group of thirty or so Ministry wizards hurriedly disembarking from a military transport helicopter struck a slightly uncomfortable note with Harry. He realised there must be Anti Apparition wards in place.

Kingsley, though, greeted them with a wide grin.

“I’m glad you all made it back,” he shouted above the din from the rotors. “Get aboard! We’ve set up a field hospital for the wounded!”

Harry looked over to a stretcher. Strapped down under a red blanket could only have been Gurnet. It looked like he was lying on his side, presumably so Alison would be more comfortable. Then Harry realised that the blanket had been extended up over their heads.

“No, Harry,” said Bateman into his ear. “They’re alive, but they’ve been prepared like that for transporting to the hospital. They have drips and oxygen for the flight.”

Harry nodded shakily, and followed the stretcher as it was lifted into the helicopter.

*

Harry was brought out of his reverie by the bump the helicopter made upon landing. The stretchers were the first to be taken off and Harry made to help but was pulled back by Careem.

“Let the medical people do their job,” he advised. “We’d just get in the way.”

Harry nodded to indicate that he’d understood and looked around. Everyone was hanging their ear defenders up on the hooks inside the large payload bay they were in.

Realising that he too was wearing some, he took them off and looked for somewhere to hang then. Duke grabbed them and hung them up for him. Harry had no recollection of putting them on and must have spent the entire flight staring at the stretchers.

He looked around again and did a hasty head count.

Ron and Hermione were there, looking shocked but otherwise okay. Duke and Careem were next to him as always. Hope, Carlyle, Smith and Hagland were there too, but where was Bateman?

Everyone was getting off now as Harry looked around with more concern. He was about to ask Duke where he was when he felt a hard slap on his shoulder.

“Come on, Harry, move yourself.”

Harry smiled with relief as Bateman pushed him off the aircraft.

They had landed in a large grasses field. Some yards away were a number of tents, some of which looked like they were still being put up. The largest had a large St. John’s cross.

Harry hurried to catch Bateman, who had marched off with a purpose, up.

“What happened to the bomb? I thought you were going to drop a bomb!”

“Well, it would have been a guided missile, actually,” said Bateman, switching off some kind of radio that had a long aerial attached to it. Harry saw that the black box had a small screen under a lid and a keyboard with symbols and numbers. Bateman slung the device over his shoulder.

“I decided we didn’t need to use it. We’d done what we needed to do without destroying everything. I’m hoping that they will have left enough documentation to provide some valuable intelligence for future operations.”

“Would a bomb have worked anyway?” asked Hermione, who had joined them walking towards the tents.

Bateman smiled at her and said, “A conventional weapon definitely would not have worked. Too much electronics that can be interfered with, you see?”

“Yes, that’s what I thought,” agreed Hermione.

“One of our mission objectives this morning was to test whether conventional weapons and munitions work. We now know that chemical based munitions work as well as projectiles provided the targets don’t have too much warning. We also know these fabulous Weasley shield garments work.”

“What?” cried both Harry and Hermione.

“Yes, we had Ministry defensive robes sewn into our combat clothes. I must admit I was rather sceptical about these, but they worked really well. I’m sure I was hit several times, as were most of the others.

“Frankly, I’m amazed we didn’t have any casualties. Well, that we know about so far, but I’m really looking forward to meeting Ron’s brothers.”

“You want to meet Fred and George?”

“Certainly! Kingsley says they are prepared to make garments to our specification provided they get to make and sell them to the Ministry generally. The strange thing is, Kingsley wondered if we were quite ready to meet them as well!”

Harry and Hermione laughed and Bateman grinned, looking around.

“The main thing we needed to be sure of was our ability to fight people capable of performing magic in combat. We proved that and it was important.

“The range of skills we encountered last night varied considerably. It’s always easier to overcome inexperience. That’s true in any combat situation. We’ll need to train hard to go up against Voldemort’s core Death Eaters, but we have the advantage of numbers and our allegiance with Kingsley and the Ministry.”

A slight shiver went down Harry’s spine as he heard these words.

“We’ve been developing new weapons, as well. Those have been less successful so far. We fired a few long range missiles at Kingsley and he was able to vanish them before they got close. Don’t worry, they weren’t live rounds,” he added seeing their alarmed expressions.

“I know our brute force approach is of limited use,” continued Bateman seriously, “but we just might be able to make a difference. The only way to win is to take the fight to them.”

Bateman stopped, still looking around.

“Oh, there he is,” he said absently. He then set off towards Ron who was now standing dejectedly against a short wheelbase Land Rover.

*

Hermione went off to see if she could help in the Hospital tents while Harry went off to join Bateman and Ron. He caught the end of their conversation.

“It’s no use you telling me that,” said Bateman, “because I saw what you did. You ran out in the face of fire to help when every instinct you have would have been screaming for you to dive for cover.”

“But look at me,” complained Ron, holding up shaking hands.

“Your hands are shaking because of what’s known as adrenaline. It has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with too much excitement in a small amount of time.”

Ron shrugged.

Harry surreptitiously looked down at his own hands which weren’t shaking at all. Clearly he needed a little more excitement to get his adrenaline working.

“I think you took a much bigger step this morning than you realise,” said Bateman and Ron frowned slightly. “Mind you, if you could work out a direction for your next step that doesn’t lead you towards a small burning cart that some fool thought would be a great place to hide behind; we’d all be a lot happier.”

Harry snorted as Bateman gave Ron’s shoulder an encouraging squeeze and walked off.

Both Harry and Ron snorted hearing him yelling a rebuke to a group of soldiers standing around doing nothing.

“He’s in a good mood,” said Ron.

“Yeah, I think he’s missed the shouting,” replied Harry.

“I lost my rucksack, Harry. I dropped it and it got hit by a Reductor curse.”

“Don’t worry. You can have mine if we can’t find you a new one. I wonder if Fred and George can get us anything better?”

“Ron! Harry!”

They both looked behind them to see Mr Weasley hurrying towards them.

“Are you alright? Where’s Hermione?”

“We’re all fine, Dad.”

“Hermione’s inside helping, Mr Weasley.”

“Your mother has been so worried about you. We all have.”

Mr Weasley almost ran around the Land Rover to hug Ron.

“Dad! Not in front of the army guys!” complained Ron, trying unsuccessfully to wrestle his father away.

Mr Weasley relented and offered Harry his hand instead. Harry grinned at him and spread his arms out for a manly hug.

The Deceiver’s Distillation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 13 – The Healer

Ron was just introducing Mr Weasley to Bateman and his team when Hermione emerged white faced from the hospital tent.

She made straight for Harry and said quietly, “Alison is asking for you.”

Harry nodded and they quickly made their way into the largest tent under a large stretch of green canvas supported by poles either side before entering through a wide open entrance.

Hermione saw him looking curiously as they passed through and said, “Yes, I thought it was strange not to have doors or something. I asked and they said it reduces the chances of infection, because of the high volumes of fresh air.”

Harry knew she was chatting just to keep her mind off what Alison and Jack were going through.

“How are they?” he asked gently.

“Very poorly, Harry. The Doctors haven’t seen anything like this, obviously,” she said shakily. “They brought in a Healer from St Mungos and she was amazed that they survived this long.”

They entered the makeshift ward. At the far end of the large tent, Aurors were standing guard over some patients that Harry couldn’t see. He presumed these were injured prisoners.

Harry looked back and realised Mr Ollivander was sitting quietly in a metal framed canvas chair, looking around in wide eyed amazement. His forearms were held out as if resting upon invisible armrests and his hands were shaking violently.

“Is he okay?” asked Harry quietly.

At that moment a nurse walked in carrying a tray. Ollivander’s face immediately cracked into a bright smile, as if he’d recognised her. Almost immediately his face fell again and he went back to his bemused state.

“He does that with everyone who walks in,” said Hermione. “It’s a bit creepy. No one can get any sense out of him.”

“What about the wand he had?”

“I took it away from him and gave it to one of the Ministry people. I didn’t think he was safe to keep it.”

“Good idea,” agreed Harry, his eyes resting upon Gurnet’s bed. Hermione went back outside into the now bright morning sunshine, looking close to tears. It seemed like she could not bear to watch them suffer any further.

Harry walked over and realised that Gurnet was sleeping soundly on his side, so he went around and sat at his back where Alison was.

She opened her eyes just as he sat down.

“I’m sorry,” said Harry. “Did I wake you?”

“No, I keep drifting in and out. At least they managed to make us comfortable.”

Harry nodded. He wanted to smile reassuringly, but he just couldn’t. He looked down, ashamed that he couldn’t even do that for her.

Alison reached out and gently stroked his forehead, pushing his hair aside.

Harry looked up at her, blinking back tears.

She smiled kindly and said, “Jack wasn’t really angry with you. He was just annoyed with himself for letting himself down.”

Harry shook his head.

“He told me his orders were just to patrol outside. He wasn’t supposed to go anywhere near your house. He knew his friend Bear was with you, and he was resentful that he hadn’t been chosen to lead. That’s all.”

“He just came barging in when I answered the door,” said Harry.

“He had no idea that you were the one they were all protecting.”

“I fired before thinking.”

“You did exactly what Jack’s colleagues told you to do. What you have to do in order to survive. Jack knows this.”

“He moved so fast,” continued Harry, remembering the moment clearly. “He was on me before I could react, even though I had just stunned him. I fired again at point blank range, and he still attacked.”

“Well, that’s Jack for you,” she said with a smile.

“And then the others opened fire.”

“Still, the ambulance was quick to respond. He was in casualty after only a few minutes, and you had already managed to stem much of the bleeding.”

“Is that where?” Harry asked uncertainly.

“Yes. All I remember was a group of weirdoes in black cloaks storming into casualty just as we were trying to get Jack ready for surgery. Unfortunately I was the one who intervened and they took me as well. I don’t know what happened to the others.”

“They’re all dead,” Harry said sadly. “They murdered them all.”

“How did they know to grab Jack, though?”

“We think there is a spy at the Ministry, except they got it wrong. Kingsley put a report about the incident almost straight away. He intended for Ministry people to attend and take care of him, but the message got intercepted. The Death Eaters believed that he was in charge of the team guarding me.”

“Who is Kingsley?”

“Sorry,” said Harry looking around. Fortunately Kingsley happened to be talking to someone just outside the open entrance. He shifted so she had a clear view. “Can you see the two people standing over there? Kingsley is the tall one.”

Alison nodded as best she could.

“They patched Jack up just enough to interrogate him. Of course, he had nothing to tell. For some reason, he couldn’t even tell them the name of the town you were in. From what he told me after, it sounded like he actually managed to get more information out of them.

“They pretty much left me alone until Jack was released to the Healer. For a while, I wondered why they bothered to take me. Frankly, I was beginning to fear a lot worse than this!”

Harry shook his head but stopped when Alison grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly.

“I’m a nurse, Harry. I’m not squeamish and I don’t embarrass easily. I’ve bullied and coaxed enough people with appalling injuries to stop feeling sorry for themselves to know that it is usually the mindset that makes the difference between surviving and living. Sometimes you don’t win, but it’s the fight that matters.”

Harry looked for a long moment into her fiery defiant eyes.

“Harry, I mean it. Look, I need you to promise me something.”

“Sure. Anything.”

“I want you to ensure that what happened to us and all the others that were captured is properly publicised. I know there’s no point in trying to get anything in our newspapers, but the wizarding media needs to bring the full horrors of what these people are capable of to the general wizarding public.”

“Well, I’ll try.”

“I need your promise, Harry. What do you think kept Jack going all this time? We survived to bear witness, Harry. I lost count of the number of bodies they just made vanish before our eyes. This is important!”

“Okay, I promise.”

“Thank you,” she said, appearing to relax. After taking a moment to recover, Alison smiled again and said, “I had an interesting conversation with your friend Hermione, earlier.”

Harry nodded with polite interest but was curious to see Alison’s smile widen.

“Oh, leave the boy alone,” said Gurnet suddenly, making Harry start.

Alison giggled and said, “How long have you been awake?”

“Long enough to know you’re interfering where you shouldn’t. Honestly, if I’d known what you were like, I’d have insisted upon being stitched up with someone else.”

Alison laughed and Harry smiled despite himself. He made to stand, intending to walk round to see Gurnet, when Alison held him back.

“Hey, we’re not done yet!”

Harry shrugged and sat again.

“So,” continued Alison lightly, “I understand that you’ve recently become available again?”

Harry felt his face redden as Gurnet threatened, “I can always roll over, you know?”

“From what I’ve learned from Hermione,” Alison continued undeterred, just before she suddenly burst into laughter.

“Hey! Stop tickling me, Jack!”

Harry couldn’t help himself from laughing as the pair of them continued to tease one another.

As they eventually calmed, it occurred to Harry how especially cruel it had been to join them facing away from each other.

“Harry?”

Harry got up and walked round so that Gurnet could see him. This time Alison didn’t interfere.

“I wanted to apologise for what I said to you before, about it being your fault that we are in this situation.”

Harry looked down and said, “Thanks, but there’s really no need.”

“John said you would be departing soon, and that the only reason you agreed to have him stay this long was to get us out.”

Harry shrugged.

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

“No, I know I’m not, but I’m not prepared to lose anyone else.”

“You know that losses are inevitable?” said Gurnet before coughing violently.

“Yes, probably, but-” began Harry. Seeing Gurnet going very red in the face and in obvious discomfort, he asked, “Are you alright?”

As Harry leaned in, Gurnet grabbed his right hand.

Harry immediately fumbled for the alarm on the pillow a Healer in a St Mungos uniform Apparated next to him with a soft pop. Alison had pushed her own alarm.

As more medical staff arrived to help, Harry found himself being pushed to the back. He didn’t protest, not wanting to get in the way, but at the same time he just couldn’t leave.

Gurnet’s laboured breathing grew louder and then became a gurgle as Alison began to sob.

Harry knew the end was close. He just wanted their pain to stop; for them to go in peace.

Harry became aware that Ollivander was standing next to him, as if, like Harry, compelled to stand there as a vigil.

He found himself disengaging from the frenzy of activity in front of them. Just at the moment when he stopped looking, Harry began to sense something new.

It was as if the medical staff weren’t there. All Harry could sense in front of him was Alison and Jack. It was like they had combined to create a unique aura. Harry was on the verge seeing further, when a touch to his arm brought him crashing back to reality.

“Jack Gurnet is dead,” said the Healer quietly. “Alison Weston is alive but she can only have minutes to live. We’ve given her painkillers, but you might like to stay with her for the end. There hasn’t been time to contact her family. She knows that she hasn’t long.”

Harry nodded shakily and moved towards the bed. Alison had her eyes closed and was breathing in short, shallow breaths. Jack’s head was now covered but his arms were still splayed out.

He sat and gently took hold of Alison’s hand. After a moment he felt a weak squeeze and a small smile appeared on her face.

Alison blinked and then slowly opened her eyes. A tear fell as she mouthed something before half closing her eyes again.

Harry leaned closer to listen, but she didn’t repeat whatever she said. He decided to move closer in case she wanted to say anything again.

Careful not to lose her hand, Harry moved off the seat and kneeled beside the bed.

Alison opened her eyes again and this time it took her a moment to focus on him. Harry smiled warmly back at her and squeezed her hand. He wanted her to know she wasn’t alone.

Her eyes appeared to lose focus again and as Harry watched intently, Alison looked over his shoulder.

Suddenly her face became distorted with a mixture of rage and fear. She drew in a deep breath and tried to scream, only she couldn’t.

Harry turned quickly, but the only person there was Ollivander, quietly looking on with his usual vacant, bemused expression.

He looked back at Alison who was now looking at him with a panicked, pleading expression.

She mouthed one word.

“Healer.”

Harry drew out his wand and turned. Ollivander had gone, but he hadn’t heard him Disapparate.

He momentarily looked down again, but he knew Alison had already gone.

Harry rushed to the tent entrance and shouted, “Ollivander! Has anyone seen Ollivander?!”

Hermione was standing alone a few yards away, her arms folded, looking anxious. Harry headed straight for her at a run. Ron was just a blur as Harry rushed past.

“Harry, what?”

He was about to call to her when Ollivander Apparated right behind her. Harry aimed and fired, his spell throwing Ollivander back.

Ollivander quickly recovered and rushed towards Hermione.

Just as Ollivander grabbed her, Harry dived towards them and caught hold of Hermione’s ankle just in time.

Ollivander Disapparated at once, taking both of them with him.

The Deceiver’s Distillation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 14 – The Tower

It took Harry several minutes to wake from his drug induced sleep. For a long while he felt himself induced to swallow, even though his throat was very dry. The bitter taste of the sleeping agent was still a strong taste in his mouth.

He gradually became aware that he was lying on his side, and that there was a small source of light high up in front of him.

He felt incredibly tired, and was sure he had drifted in and out of sleep again several times.

Every now and again, pains would shoot up and down his legs and arms, although he was unable to move at all yet.

After a while, Harry realised that he was lying on the floor of a round, stone walled room. He had no idea how long he had been lying there.

He desperately tried not to think of Hermione. It was enough just to set himself to moving so he could find her. There was no point in agonising over her condition. Well, not yet anyway.

Groggily, Harry found he could at last move his head slightly.

In doing so, a clump of brown bushy hair that was draped over his shoulder brushed his face.

Relief flooded through him.

He could hardly move, but he found himself blinking back tears.

Knowing it would be a while before he recovered, Harry relaxed back and listened intently. All he could hear was Hermione’s rhythmic breathing.

As his head began to clear, Harry became aware of the awful, pungent smell that the filthy, ancient blanket he was covered in made. It became an even more urgent priority to move, just so he could throw the ghastly thing off.

He was actually rather grateful that he wasn’t wearing his glasses. Then he’d have to see the mould and filth as well.

Gradually, Harry’s preoccupation with smells brought a new aroma to his attention.

At first, he only caught occasional wafts of the scent, but it was warm and inviting. He began moving his head as best he was able, taking long, slow sniffs of the air. Every now and again he also caught an unpleasant smell that he was pretty sure was himself. Again, he wondered how long he had been laying there.

To his great frustration, feeling first returned to his limbs in the form of acute pins and needles. He knew it would, having lain for so long on a hard floor, but this didn’t make it any more comfortable. He eased his situation by trying not to move until they passed.

Just as he felt he would make a move, Harry felt movement under the blanket.

With a great effort, he shifted his shoulder and lifted the blanket a little to see Hermione’s arm relaxed across his chest. He dropped the blanket, breathing heavily through the exertion and closed his eyes, allowing himself a few more moments before confronting the situation they were in.

In his half-dream, half-awake state of mind, several thoughts came and went.

Prominent was Alison’s smiling face and her laughter, even in the face of knowing they had little time to live. In the briefest amount of time he had known them, Alison and Jack had touched Harry. He was now sure that it was their love for each other that had really kept them alive for so long.

Hermione’s fingers played gently across his skin. She too was beginning to wake.

Without thinking about it, Harry reached up and placed his hand over her forearm. His fingertips rested themselves against warm and soft skin.

Unbidden, the image of another arm draped across a back flashed through his mind.

Harry jumped in shear, blind panic.

It was a few moments before he realised Hermione was trying to calm him down.

“Harry, try to calm yourself,” said Hermione, her hand moving from his forehead to his neck. He guessed she was feeling his pulse.

“Goodness, your heart is beating fast,” she said with concern.

Harry was gradually getting his breathing under control and the pounding his heart was making was beginning to subside.

“I’m fine. Bit of a shock, that’s all. For a moment there, I thought we were-”

“Joined?”

Harry nodded, still breathing hard.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last.

“Shh,” she said, smiling and wiping his forehead until he calmed.

“Would it have been so bad, being joined to me, I mean?”

“No, Hermione. Although, I might have asked you to cut down on your library time.”

Hermione smiled warmly before looking down at his bare chest. Harry looked down and realised he was kneeling in only his boxer shorts.

He looked up to see a blushing Hermione fumbling for the blanket.

“Hermione, that thing is filthy and it’s very warm in here. Look, I haven’t even got my glasses on. I couldn’t stare at you if I wanted.”

“I suppose, Harry. Hey, are you squinting at me?”

“I can’t see a thing, Hermione, honestly,” said Harry with half a laugh. Hermione sat again.

“Why did they take our clothes, though?” asked Hermione.

“I imagine so our Polyjuice impostors can wear them.”

“Oh, yes I suppose so. Yes, I can see where they cut your hair.”

“Don’t worry. I’m sure no one will be fooled for long,” said Harry reassuringly. “Hey, what do you think your impostor will do to give herself away?” he added, trying to lighten the mood.

“I don’t know,” Hermione replied seriously. “They may have prepared very carefully.”

“Well, look on the bright side. Ron might get lucky!” Harry said with a laugh.

“Hey,” warned Hermione, laughing despite herself, “that’s not funny. They might hurt him.”

“I can see it now. Harry, why do you keep drinking that Polyjuice Potion because Dad says we should be on the look out for that kind of thing,” said Harry in a mock Ron accent.

“No, I’ll bet he isn’t fooled at all. Just you see, he’ll catch them single handed.”

Harry smiled and nodded.

“Does it look too bad where they cut my hair?” asked Hermione.

“I can’t really tell,” he replied without thinking.

Even without glasses, Harry could see the hurt look on Hermione’s face at what he’d just said.

He began to say, “Hermione, I’m sorry,” but she shrugged him off leaving him feeling uncomfortable and hurt.

Harry looked around for something to distract her from his insensitivity.

“Look, why don’t we try to Apparate out of here? Do you feel strong enough yet?”

They tried, and failed.

“Well, that was a weird sensation,” said Harry. “I felt like I’d forgotten how to Apparate. I felt nothing but a mixture of fear and lack of confidence.”

“Me too. Why don’t you try calling Dobby or Kreacher?”

*

Harry squinted up at the high window opening above them. It looked like a square opening about six inches square set in a recess with sloping sides.

“Hermione, if I give you a boost, do you think you could see out of that window?”

“Well, let’s give it a try. I may not be tall enough though.”

Harry knitted his fingers together and offered his hands as a stirrup for Hermione to step up into.

As Hermione applied more weight, Harry said, “Hang on, Hermione. I just realised I need to have my back to the wall.”

“Oh, okay.”

They tried again, and this time with his back pressing against the wall, Harry was able to lift Hermione up.

“I can see outside!” reported Hermione. “We’re quite high up. I’d guess we are in some kind of tower. I can see some uncultivated grass and there are low hills in the distance. Say if you need a rest, Harry, won’t you?”

“No problem,” said Harry from below, although he wasn’t actually listening to Hermione just then.

“There are a couple of tents right below and there’s some kind of circular building that’s still under construction. It’s like the Arena was, only much smaller. I wonder what it could be? What else is there?” she asked herself, twisting around slightly to see further. “No, just a couple of small carts, that’s all.”

Hermione looked down and said, “That’s it, Harry, I’m afraid. You can let me down now.”

“Okay,” said Harry, sounding a little strained. “Use your arms to steady yourself on the way down.”

Harry lowered her gently.

“Thanks, Harry. Sorry if I squashed you a bit. I felt my thigh push your shoulder, but I wanted to see.”

“No problem,” replied Harry, sitting down against the wall and drawing his legs up. “Um, tell me again what you saw?”

“Sure,” she replied brightly, sitting down closely next to him. Soon she was describing in detail exactly what she’d seen.

Harry still wasn’t listening, but his slightly glazed look did begin to clear after a while.

“Harry, are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Hermione. Why?”

“You keep rubbing your face.”

“I do?” he said, realising he was doing it again. “Um, have you noticed there’s no door to this cell?”

“Yes,” she replied with a hint of suspicion in her voice.

“And this floor,” he continued. “It’s made up of large pebbles. The floor is perfectly level but there’s no cement. I can get my fingers into some of the gaps but I can’t budge any of the pebbles.”

They sat quietly for a moment.

“Harry, they can’t really be building another Arena out there, can they?”

“It probably is,” he replied quietly.

“But why take the risk of being detected again?”

“I suppose it’s just arrogance. That and the fact that they’ve got some prisoners that might make for some decent entertainment.”

Hermione kicked the blanket, possibly just out of frustration.

“Hermione, what was that? Something fell out of the blanket!”

Hermione dived over and picked something up. She came over and handed him his wand.

“Harry, this makes no sense. Why leave us our wands?”

“I think it’s a message, Hermione. They don’t think we can get out, even with our wands.”

The first thing Harry did was to conjure some fresh water from the tip of his wand. Hermione drank deeply first, and then Harry quenched his thirst. He was going to drench himself in water, but he found he just couldn’t manage it. Something was dampening the magic.

Hermione lit her wand tip and shone the narrow beam upwards into the shadows above them. The stone vaulted ceiling was very high up.

Harry tried to perform several Reductor curses on the stone walls, but they appeared to just absorb the magical energy. He tried the floor too with no success.

Hermione then tried to conjure a fire, but it burned feebly and then died. Fortunately, they didn’t need to keep warm. It was becoming increasingly warm inside the cell and Harry found himself sweating profusely.

“Hermione, do you think that whatever is in these stones is preventing us from Apparating out of here?” asked Harry, wiping his hands down his legs. The walls and floor had a strange waxy coating of dirt that transferred itself to them when their wet skin came into contact with the stone. Both Harry and Hermione were becoming more and dirtier, although Harry was sure the dirt wasn’t harmful.

“That’s possible, I suppose, although I’ve never read about magical energy dampening fields affecting Apparition. I’d say it was more likely they just built anti-Apparition ropes into the stonework.”

*

They remained sat together for several hours and Harry did his best to keep Hermione’s spirits up.

Both of them were becoming uncomfortably aware of the increased activity going on outside. From the nature of the shouts reaching their tiny window, Harry knew that whatever their captors had planned for them, it would happen that evening.

After a long silence, Hermione said shakily, “Harry, whatever happens later, you must promise me that you’ll buy time for yourself by any means. Remember, you just have to live to fight another day. If we’re made to fight each other, I won’t resist. Just try and kill me cleanly. That’ll spoil their fun.”

Harry took hold of her hand and said, “Hermione, you can’t be serious. There’s no way I could or would ever do that, no matter what. We’re getting out of here together, or not at all.”

“I’m so scared,” she said in a tiny voice.

“Me too,” he said gently, “but remember, we may yet get out of this. We just need to take our chance when it comes.”

Hermione gave a small nod.

Harry knew that they were both trying to make the best of a bad situation. If they ever got out of there, there would be a reckoning. While there was no chance of escape, of course, neither of them would provoke the other. If they had to die, there was no point in holding a grudge.

*

“Harry, did you see who grabbed me?”

“Um, yes,” said Harry, glad of a distraction from the noise outside. “It was Ollivander.”

“What?”

Harry then explained how Alison had seen Ollivander and identified him as the Healer before she died.

“So, he was just pretending to be befuddled?”

“Yes, I assume so.”

“But why did he kill the Nurse?”

“I imagine so there were no witnesses.”

“Harry, are you really sure it was Ollivander that Alison was identifying?”

“Well, he’d gone by the time I looked up, but he was right there. He also kidnapped you, remember?”

“Oh, yes, I suppose there is that.”

“You know?” continued Harry, “When he turned, just for an instant, I thought I could feel Ollivander’s feelings. He was feeling supreme satisfaction. It could have been his pleasure in their suffering so much or that his handiwork survived for so long.”

“That’s horrible, but do you think that Voldemort could have been possessing Ollivander at the time?”

“Yes, he could have been,” Harry admitted, “but I usually know when Voldemort is close by.”

“Can you feel him now?”

“No.”

“You’re not just saying that not to upset me?”

“Honestly, Hermione. I haven’t felt him at all so far,” he said truthfully, although he knew Voldemort must make an appearance later then the preparations outside were more complete.

*

It was getting dark now and it sounded like a large and boisterous crowd was gathering outside. The taunts and jeers were definitely being directed at them up in the tower.

Hermione’s breathing was becoming short and couldn’t help but show how increasingly nervous she was becoming.

The taunts confirmed Harry’s fear that they wouldn’t be made to fight each other. That wouldn’t be nearly cruel enough.

The evening’s entertainment would consist of his fighting for Hermione’s life. He would fall, of course, but not allowed to die before he had properly appreciated the horrors intended for Hermione.

Harry forced himself not to think about that.

“I do wish we’d learned to teach our Patronuses to take messages,” he said lightly.

Hermione gave a nervous laugh, and said, “Of course, they would have to learn to read maps too so they could tell them where we are!”

Harry laughed, knowing that Hermione was forcing herself to sound brighter than she felt.

They didn’t have long now.

Harry lifted his wand lazily and said, “Expecto Patronum!”

Harry’s stag Patronus almost blinded them. He had wanted it to run outside and give the crowd a scare, but the great stag just stood still, almost filling the circular walled cell.

“Can’t it get through the walls?” asked Hermione.

“He isn’t even trying.”

The stag looked down directly at Harry. He stared back up at it, wondered what this meant.

“Isn’t he lasting rather a long time for a Patronus?” asked Hermione.

“Oh,” breathed Harry, and his Patronus vanished plunging the cell into darkness again.

“What just happened, Harry?”

Harry jumped up and just as he did so, the floor lurched downwards a few inches.

“Get up!” shouted Harry, pulling Hermione to her feet.

“The floor, Harry!”

“Forget the floor, Hermione,” he said, pulling her towards him and wrapping his arms around her.

“Listen to me, Hermione, listen to my voice,” he insisted, as the pebbles in the floor began to vibrate.

The floor began to descend again.

“Concentrate. Close your eyes and empty your mind. Try to forget where we are. Listen to my voice. Don’t actually try to Disapparate. Just relax your mind.”

It wasn’t working, Harry realised. Hermione was shaking.

He held the palms of his hands flat against her bare back and held her tightly to him.

“Hold me tight, Hermione,” he said, bowing his head down to her shoulder.

A loud shout from below told him that the top of the cell entrance had just been exposed. It sounded like a hoard of Death Eaters were baying for them outside.

“Listen to my voice,” he breathed. “Nothing else matters. Nothing else exists.”

A euphoric Death Eater forced his way into the small but growing door opening. There were several more behind him, and it sounded like they were fighting amongst themselves to get inside first.

Just at that moment, Harry felt Hermione relax into his arms. She was still holding on tightly, but her mind was now totally fixed upon him.

Harry Disapparated them away at once.

*

Harry was only vaguely aware of the commotion that their sudden arrival in the middle of the Burrow’s kitchen.

“Oh, my goodness! Look at the state of them.”

Harry felt himself being buffeted and felt Hermione resisting their being pulled apart. His eyes still shut tight, Harry clung onto Hermione.

“Molly, I’m really not so sure you should,” began Mrs Granger.

Hermione appeared to relent and Harry relaxed his arms enough to allow Mrs Weasley to force them apart. Hermione was ushered upstairs in a loud kafuffle while Harry was left to stand alone.

He finally opened his eyes to see that his hands were shaking violently.

Harry knew he should feel relief, or something. Anything other than the anger that was coursing through him at that moment. It wasn’t a revenge kind of anger, either.

Suddenly the kitchen felt very constrictive and he headed straight for the open door out into the garden and darkness again. A few paces outside, with grass under his feet, Harry gradually became more aware of his surroundings.

Behind him, Ron, Fred and George had followed him outside.

“Where’s Dad?” asked Fred unusually quietly.

“He was showing Mr Granger his stuff in the shed,” answered George evenly. “Ron, go and get him, will you?”

Harry heard as Ron approached him.

“Ron,” warned Fred as Ron touched Harry on his shoulder.

“I just wanted to say well done. I mean, well, thanks mate.”

Harry didn’t hesitate. He turned and punched Ron square on his jaw sending him flying backwards. In the same instant a smashing noise could be heard from upstairs inside the house.

“Interesting,” muttered George, surveying the sprawled figure of his unconscious brother.

There was a loud cracking sound and Kreacher appeared next to Harry. He grabbed hold of his forearm and snapped his fingers.

Harry didn’t resist.

The Deceiver’s Distillation

by Jardyn39

AN: Posted a little early due to all the “confused” comments!

Chapter 15 – The Reckoning

Harry opened his eyes to find he was standing in the middle of the drawing room at Grimmauld Place. All the lanterns were lit.

“Look what you made me do!”

Harry looked up to see a furious Hermione brandishing something at him. Clearly she was suddenly as angry as he was.

“What did I make you do?” he asked coldly.

“It was a beautiful porcelain figurine, one of a pair. Mrs Weasley loved these.”

“It looks okay from here.”

“No, this is the second one,” she replied, walking over to a side table and gently placing it down. “I was about to throw this one as well when Dobby appeared and brought me here.”

“Oh. Well, help yourself to anything you want to throw at me. You’ll probably find it easier than through a closed upstairs window.”

“Ha, ha,” she replied dryly, walking around the large room. “Why did they bring us here, anyway?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” said Harry, taking a step to the side and wondering why he hadn’t ever noticed the large assortment of china and porcelain oddments that adorned the room.

Harry squinted and lowered his head to examine something that looked familiar. This was perhaps fortunate as a small vase narrowly missed his head. Harry reached out and picked up his glasses.

“Nice one Dobby,” he muttered as he heard a dull thunking noise followed by the familiar smashing of something delicate. He put his glasses on and realised what the thunk noise had been.

“I think the windows are charmed, Hermione. I don’t think that old glass cabinet is though,” he said needlessly as the doors and glass shelves of the cabinet became her next target.

They continued to circle around the room, and Harry wondered if Hermione was deliberately missing him on purpose or was just a very poor thrower.

The groans of frustration indicated to him that it was the latter.

He looked back at her at last.

“NO!”

Hermione jumped, looking quite startled for a moment. She had frozen, one hand extending towards a large stone dish that Harry hadn’t even noticed was there in the room.

“Not that, Hermione. I can’t let you smash Dumbledore’s Pensieve.”

Anger flashed across Hermione’s features.

“You actually think I would do that? That I’d even be capable of something like that?”

“Hermione, I really don’t know what you are capable of doing any more,” he replied angrily.

Hermione grabbed an enormous two handled china urn and swung it around. The noise it made as it impacted on the far wall was the loudest yet. Smaller figurines smashed under the falling debris and liberal amounts of sharp broken pottery flew out over the carpet.

“You lied to me!” shouted Hermione.

“Of course I lied,” Harry retorted. “I didn’t know who you were. There’s no way I was going to tell the truth to an impostor.”

“Don’t give me that,” she spat contemptuously. “You knew for ages that I wasn’t an impostor or somehow under control.”

“Control?” said Harry with a hollow laugh. “Oh, yes, Hermione, you’ve more than demonstrated that you’ve got no control.”

Another figurine flew past his ear.

“Stop trying to change the subject,” shouted Hermione. “Why did you hit Ron?”

He was momentarily distracted by a large piece of debris on the floor. He carefully tipped it over with a toe to reveal a pattern that Harry thought was vaguely familiar to him. He carefully stepped over it, picking his way through the sharp pieces, not wishing to cut his feet.

“He said something I took exception to,” replied Harry eventually through gritted teeth.

“Really? I’d never have guessed,” she shouted sarcastically. “I won’t ask you what that exception was because you don’t really do the truth thing any more, do you?” she added bitterly. “Ah, but of course, I was forgetting. You also like a while to think about the lie you’ll tell me instead. Maybe we should make an appointment. Three months next Tuesday? Mark it in you diary as Tell More Lies to Hermione.”

Harry just shook his head to the sound of another impact.

“Too much of an effort to do it yourself? No problem, just order one of your little soldier friends to do it for you.”

Harry turned quickly and said, “Those soldier friends were there to protect you. They went after you when I specifically asked you to stay out of the camp at the Arena. You put them at risk, Hermione.”

“I told them not to follow me.”

“Yes, you ordered them not to follow you, didn’t you?”

“Yes!”

“Except they knew they had little choice but to find you, even though you tried to give them the slip.”

“Oh, yes! Harry’s orders must be obeyed! What did you tell them? Make sure silly Hermione stays out of the way! We wouldn’t want her interfering with all the carnage!”

“Hermione, none of them were ever under an obligation to follow an order I gave them. Bateman gave them their orders, and they adapted to suit the conditions. They had to go after you because the original plan was to overrun the camp or blow it up.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but there was no way I was going to allow that.”

“So, that’s why you went into the camp?”

“Yes. Your soldier friends just don’t understand that bombs don’t discriminate between combatants and innocent bystanders.”

“I think you need to give them more credit than that, Hermione. The only innocent bystanders were the prisoners, and they went in to try and save them.”

“Well yes, but there was no talk about searching the camp, was there?”

Harry didn’t answer. The moment he heard a slight hesitancy in her voice, he knew she understood.

“Tired of throwing things?”

“I’m saving some for later,” she replied at once. “Tell me something truthful, Harry. I’d like to hear you tell me something truthful.”

“What like?”

“I hardly know where to begin!”

“Ask me anything. Just remember, Dumbledore one told me that the truth is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution.”

“Tell me,” she began before stopping. “Hang on. Why are you so keen on telling me the truth, all of a sudden?”

“Maybe I’ll just tell you more lies,” Harry suggested.

“Why did you change into Voldemort like that?”

Harry paused, waiting for her to add the comment he knew she must make.

“It certainly wasn’t a side effect of the Distiller’s Distillation,” asserted Hermione. Harry smiled to himself.

“Oh, it was certainly a factor,” replied Harry. “I’ve told you before what it’s like when I possess Voldemort. I see with his eyes and I feel with his hands. I’m actually inside his body, and the memory of that experience has stayed with me. Tonks is quite convinced that I’m actually a latent metamorphmagus. I can’t actually do any transformations because I didn’t practise when I was younger. What I can do, I have no control over. When I pulled the cork out of that flask, I had a fleeting thought.”

“What a surprise we’d all get if you turned into Voldemort?”

Harry smiled and nodded.

“But Harry, metamorphmagus gifts are incredibly rare,” began Hermione as Harry raised his eyebrows and shook his head slightly. “Oh my gosh! Your hair! It was cut before and now it’s back to normal!”

“Unfortunately, I can’t do it on purpose,” he admitted, “but if I just forget it, my hair just goes back to normal after a while.”

“But why didn’t you tell us the truth, Harry?”

“Two reasons. Firstly, I wasn’t sure then that I’d take either of you with me. If I was to leave alone, I wanted to keep this a secret in case I can develop it into something more useful.”

“Yes, I see that. But why not tell me until now?”

“Well, you didn’t ask me until now. The second reason was that Ron sometimes has problems with the things I tell him about. I’d probably want to find the right time before telling him.”

Hermione paused to consider his answer.

“How did you know it was me?”

This question wasn’t as abstract as it sounded; “it” hadn’t been far from either of their minds every since Hermione had admitted her actions.

Harry fingered the edge of the Pensieve and said, “I saw everything in here. Well, I saw enough in here to make me increasingly suspicious. It started just by accident. I was practicing trying to use it, and I was trying out memories. It’s easier if you remember exactly what the occasion was. For example, it’s difficult to recall, say breakfast six weeks ago if nothing out of the ordinary happened, but if you choose a memory like your first morning after leaving the Durleys, it is easier.”

“So what gave me away?”

“It was only afterwards that I thought I may have had an unnatural sleep. No, what stood out was the strange way you were looking at me while I was distracted with something else. Not just then, other times as well. I also got a couple of looks at that notebook you recorded your observations in. You certainly kept that well hidden. I didn’t manage to crack the code, though.”

Hermione frowned.

“I’ll show you, if you’d like. I mean, I’ll show you what a Pensieve memory looks like. We don’t have to see anything unpleasant. I’ll need my wand, though.”

“It wasn’t written in a proper code, Harry. I just used a shorthand so I could note your reactions and the timings to different potions. Harry, you said you forgave me. Was that true?”

“Well,” began Harry.

“Tell me the truth. Please.”

Harry looked down. “The thing is, I honestly don’t think you understand how hurt I was. Well, how hurt I am.”

“But, no real harm was done, was it?”

“No?” Harry asked incredulously. “One of the worst things I can think of actually being done, to me, by my best friend? The friend that I trusted above everyone else, and the friend I trust to tell me the difference between right and wrong. I am hurting, Hermione, and what’s making this whole thing worse is that if there’s one person I thought I could count on to know just how much I am hurting, that would be you.”

“Well, I’ve been afraid to look lately.”

“I didn’t mean that. Do you really only know me by your empathic sight thing?”

Hermione was becoming redder in the face and Harry was sure she was trying desperately not to cry. He opened his arms and drew her closer, holding her against his chest.

Hermione sniffed loudly and said, “I didn’t think you believed me about that.”

Harry shrugged and refolded his arms around her back.

“You said, Now I know your real motives, and the depths you’d go to, to help me, I actually feel I trust you more.”

Harry said nothing.

“That was a lie, wasn’t it?”

Harry bowed his head.

“Well?”

“Yes, Hermione. It wasn’t true. I said it because I wanted to cheer you up, and, I suppose, I wanted it to be true. No, I needed it to be true. I honestly don’t think I could cope without your trust.”

They stood together quietly for a long moment.

“Why did you hit Ron?”

“That’s the wrong question. Anyway, what’s going on with you two now? From all the bickering, I assume you’re going to get back together.”

“You assume wrong, then. I finished with Ron when he accused me of harbouring feelings for you. I know he still wants me to go out with him, but there’s no way I could do that for the foreseeable future.”

“That could make things a little awkward,” said Harry.

“Yes, but we’ll get over it eventually.”

“I didn’t mean awkward between you and Ron. I meant, awkward between me and Ron.”

“Well, if you will go round hitting people.”

Harry snorted.

“Harry, how did we get out of that tower?”

“I thought you’d ask me the right question about Ron, first, actually.”

“What is the right question?”

“That would be, what did Ron say? Anyway, we got away because I realised what was holding us there. Well, me, anyway. It was my Patronus that gave it away, just standing there like that.”

“Was your stag Patronus brighter than usual, or was that just my eyes?”

“Oh, it was much brighter,” he replied with a smile, remembering the memory he’d used.

“Are you ever going to tell me?”

“Ask me what Ron said.”

Hermione sighed and asked, “Okay, what did Ron say?”

“He said,” Harry began, and then paused. “Actually, I’ve forgotten his actual words.”

Hermione snorted loudly and Harry laughed.

“It was something like, Well done for escaping.”

“Harry, just tell me.”

“I just wanted to say well done. I mean, well, thanks mate.”

“Oh, Harry. You thought Ron was thanking you for delivering me safely back to him. You’ll have to apologise to him.”

“No way.”

“But, I still don’t understand. What did that have to do with how we escaped?”

“I couldn’t leave. No part of me could leave while you were trapped there. I think that’s why it was so warm, to make sure I got your scent.”

“Harry that makes no sense.”

“Except it worked. I was able to Apparate us both out of there because you weren’t-”

“No, Harry,” Hermione interrupted. “Why couldn’t I Apparate then?”

“What were you thinking before we escaped?”

“Lots of things, but mainly how afraid I was of what might happen to us later.”

“Yes. You were afraid to Apparate out of the tower. So was I. It was fear that was trapping us in there. Now, what were you thinking at the exact moment we left?”

Hermione stroked her hands absently across his back sending shivers up and down his spine.

“I suppose, I was thinking that whatever happened, at least I had that moment with you.”

Hermione stiffened at once, perhaps in shock at her admission.

The door opened and Dobby walked in carrying a large dustpan and brush. He was closely followed by Kreacher.

Harry looked around. They had made an awful lot of mess.

“Kreacher has agreed to supervise you while you clean up,” announced Dobby. “Dobby will make dinner.”

Hermione was also looking around and said, “Er, thank you. Yes, of course we’ll clean up. Have you another dustpan and brush?”

“No, Miss Hermione, but there are sacks.”

“Oh, that’ll be fine then.”

*

After a rather late dinner, Harry and Hermione sat together in the now spotless lounge, still in their underwear.

Kreacher had insisted that they continue cleaning until he was entirely satisfied that every chip and fragment of broken crockery was picked up. It had taken rather a long time without their wands.

“Kreacher rather enjoyed that, didn’t he?” said Hermione, yawning widely.

Harry smiled and nodded.

“How come he could give you orders like that?”

“I gave him permission a while ago to tell me anything so long as he believed it was the truth. Of course, I didn’t need to order him not to help clean up this place.”

“I do think they could have got us some robes, though.”

“It’s a house elf thing. We’re not really better than them, are we?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, but my point is that if house elves are good enough to clean and serve without being given clothes, it would be wrong to give us clothes for just doing the same thing.”

“You know, it’s scary that you can even function with that kind of logic, Harry. Why did they bring us here, anyway?”

“Someone ordered them to do it.”

“Someone with a Pensieve?”

“That’s my guess. He probably assumed we’d have our wands, though, so we could use his Pensieve as well as throw things at each other.”

“I hope he didn’t know what I did,” said Hermione.

“I didn’t find anything to indicate that he knew anything. Mind you, I didn’t find a lot of things. He may have suspected something was amiss, but I’m sure he was confident we’d work it out in the end.”

Hermione sighed.

“So, are you ready to go back to the Burrow yet?” he asked.

“I know I should be. Mum and Dad are bound to be worried.”

“I’ll see if I can find some old robes then,” said Harry, starting to get up but realising that Hermione wasn’t shifting her weight off him. He relaxed back again.

“Harry?”

“Mm?”

“I need to tell you something important. I’m not going to put up with any more nonsense. No more ordering me back up to the castle and such. If I do something you ask, it’s because I want to. All I want is your respect back, Harry.”

“Okay,” Harry replied with a smile into her hair.

“And that includes your not shoving your wand down the back of my pants!”

“Yes, I’m sorry about that,” he said with an embarrassed laugh. “I needed two hands free to hang on to you, and that was all I could think of.”

“So what memory did you use?”

“Oh, nothing special. I just thought how happy I was, alone in a room with no door.”

“I’m not sure if that deserves a slap or a kiss, Harry.”

Harry grimaced and said, “Well if that‘s the only choice, it definitely deserved a slap. You see, your underwear is pretty distracting, chaste as it is and what with-”

Hermione laughed but managed to silence him with a kiss.

Epilogue follows.

The Deceiver’s Distillation

by Jardyn39

Chapter 16 – Epilogue

Hermione sighed loudly and crossed her arms again, sitting in a comfortable chair in the Weasley’s living room.

“Well, I think you’re both being very childish.”

In front of her sat Harry and Ron, both wearing frowns and each looking anywhere but at each other.

Hermione uncrossed her arms again and picked up the tattered newspaper that hadn’t failed to lift her spirits every time she saw the front cover. This edition of the Daily Prophet was actually a few days old now, but she would never allow this particular copy to be thrown away.

A wide smile grew across her face as she watched the large photograph that took up almost the entire cover page.

Prominent in the photograph was Harry, or rather, the impostor Harry.

Unfortunately, the black and white newspaper photographs couldn’t reproduce any sounds, something Hermione regretted. She watched as Harry’s arm movements became more and more exaggerated. The Harry in the photograph looked deliriously happy, waving and flashing wide smiles around at everybody present.

Hermione waited expectantly for the moment that hadn’t failed to make her burst out laughing every time she watched.

The assembled group of people around Harry in the photograph were, as usual, looking increasingly uncomfortable.

Hermione was grinning stupidly with anticipation now and Harry, who had been watching her closely, felt the edges of his mouth twitch despite himself.

Hermione burst into laughter, almost sliding off her cushioned chair.

In the photograph, Harry was now mutely singing his heart out under the banner headline, “Potter Sings!”

The article underneath read, “Potter, who had been widely anticipated to deliver a speech endorsing the Ministry’s actions in limiting the activities of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, instead treated the assembled reporters to several songs that have been interpreted as a slap in the face for the Minister for Magic. Potter’s long time friend Ronald Weasley said, ‘I had no idea he knew so many songs. He must really have practised hard.’ …”

Of course, the Prophet didn’t know that anyone impersonating the three of them after they had taken the Deceiver’s Distillation, would suffer random and possibly irreversible mental side effects.

Hermione reluctantly put the paper down and returned Harry’s smile.

“Well? I’m waiting,” she said, returning to business.

“You know?” said Ron, speaking to Harry for the first time for ages. “I almost preferred the other Hermione. I wonder if a swap is in the offing?”

Harry began to laugh but stopped as soon as he caught Hermione’s narrowing eyes.

“I still can’t understand how she wasn’t caught for so long. I mean, all she could say was one phrase, over and over again!” complained Hermione.

“Yeah,” agreed Ron, “but since that phrase was I like homework, we didn’t notice.”

Harry snorted, but recovered quickly.

“No, I think the original is much better. How did you catch her in the end?”

“Oh, we were pretty suspicious right from the start, really.”

“See, I told you, Harry,” Hermione said smugly.

“Yeah, she kept leaving the toilet seat up,” said Ron. Harry was pretty sure Ron was having them on, but a slight shiver still managed to go down his back.

“Hm,” said Hermione. “Well, now that you’re talking again, you might as well apologise.”

A degree of frostiness once more descended. Hermione was undaunted.

“Harry?”

Harry re-folded his arms defiantly.

“Honestly,” said Hermione in frustration. “I’m going to make a cup of tea. Don’t expect me to make you any either.”

She marched out of the room.

Harry stretched to make sure she wasn’t still within earshot and then turned to Ron.

“Ron,” he said quietly, unfolding his arms. “I am sorry I punched you. It was just what you said, after everything that had happened. I really didn’t think we were going to make it out of there, and I knew Hermione would be gunning for me even if we did escape.”

“No problem,” said Ron with a smile. “I should have realised you were more than just a bit tense. Um, what did I say that started you off anyway?”

“It’s really not important.”

“No, go on.”

“It was something to the effect that you were saying thanks for me returning Hermione to you.”

Ron frowned.

“Well, I would have been out of order in that case, given what Hermione had told me. Actually, I really don’t think I meant that. You see-”

Just then, Hermione came back into the room and Ron and Harry immediately assumed their previous stances. She turned, smiling to herself and placed a tray with three cups and saucers down in front of them.

“You were listening!”

*

Harry lowered the edition of the Evening Prophet to his lap before using it to gently waft a wasp away that had just become very interested in the crumbs on the plate next to him.

It was evening now and ahead of him, Hermione and her parents were taking a turn around the garden. Harry was pleased that they had at least a little more time before the Grangers went back into hiding.

Harry glanced down at the paper again.

The prominent article was a repeat of The Quibbler’s extensive article about Alison and Jack, except the Prophet hadn’t been so brave, choosing not to publish some of the post-mortem photographs. What they did publish extended to several pages, even so.

Harry knew that Jack was made to fight for his life, but it wasn’t until he had read The Quibbler’s article that it became clear why such surgery was carried out. He had assumed it was just a cruel and sick kind of experimentation.

It was, of course, precisely that; except it was experimentation for another purpose. The Quibbler speculated that the Healer responsible was attempting to create a better fighter for the Arena. Leg muscles were combined for greater agility, arms were opposed to hold more weapons and eyes were positioned to see behind.

Neither the The Quibbler nor the Evening Prophet had been prepared to name Ollivander as the Healer. Harry accepted that there wasn’t enough proof, yet. Unfortunately, not even Ron had been able to positively identify Ollivander as the one to kidnap Hermione, even though he was the closest other than Harry.

Harry shuddered to think this was all in the name of entertainment for the Death Eaters.

The second front-page article was the announcement that the Hogwarts Governors had once again failed to agree upon the appointment of a new Headmaster or Headmistress. The Ministry had now insisted that an extraordinary public meeting be held, where concerned individuals could express their views to the Governors ahead of a final decision.

It sounded like the Ministry had a favoured candidate, and they would use the forum to promote them. He had no doubt that the meeting would be attended by many biased supporters.

Harry had been pleased to read that Professor McGonagall was still in the running, but she was still very much an outsider. It had also been announced that she had negotiated job guarantees for all of the existing staff members that wished to remain. Whilst this was good in that Voldemort’s supporters would need longer to infiltrate the teaching positions, Harry wondered if she would have been better to spend more time campaigning on her own behalf. He was sure that if Voldemort wanted someone in a particular teaching position, an accident would befall the current holder anyway.

Harry had tentatively suggested that he was thinking about going along to the meeting and showing his support for Professor McGonagall. Hermione was way ahead of him, of course, and had that very morning presented him a speech that she had drafted.

He had read the speech from beginning to end, although he had decided he would not be using it from the second page. Quite apart from the fact that he’d probably need several hours to read the whole thing aloud, Harry knew he needed something more.

He had tried to explain this to Hermione, but since he didn’t really know what the something more could be, she was less than impressed.

“Well, write your own speech then, Harry,” she had said shortly, much to his concern.

“Harry’s right, Hermione,” Ron had said helpfully. “They’ll be expecting a song and dance routine at the very least!”

*

Harry entered the packed Great Hall and stood by the doors. The assembled audience was listening with rapt attention as the last candidate, Torva, finished addressing the Governors.

The Hogwarts School Governors were sitting at what was normally the staff table. Sitting in Dumbledore’s central high backed chair was an ancient looking wizard. In front of them Torva stood at a lectern.

To the side, Professor McGonagall sat stiffly and alone at the candidates’ table. There were originally five candidates for the post vacated by Dumbledore, but now there were only two.

One candidate had two days earlier committed suicide and one had died in a rather nasty accident involving the Floo network. According to the news reports, around a hundred homes had been splattered with his diced remains. The third candidate had then withdrawn on grounds of ill health.

Chairman Clubber cleared his throat and said, in a wavy voice, “Thank you, Mr Torva for answering our questions.”

Torva bowed to the Governors.

“Do you have anything else to add?” asked Clubber kindly.

“Most kind,” said Torva with an excruciating false smile. Torva turned to address the audience with the airs of someone that knows he’s already won the competition.

“I would first like to pay compliment to Professor McGonagall, the current Deputy Headmistress. Professor McGonagall’s exemplary record speaks for itself, but I would like to acknowledge my personal admiration for her. She herself admitted earlier that it was her promise to Dumbledore that prompted her to apply for the post rather than any personal ambition.”

Harry bristled with indignation, not least because at the mention of Dumbledore’s name there had been several derisory murmurs around the hall.

Hermione placed a warning hand on his forearm.

Clubber was speaking again as Torva returned to the candidates’ table.

“The Governors will now hear any views that anyone present wishes to make. I must warn you that any departure from the matter we are hear to consider will be treated most harshly at our discretion. Any derogatory personal remarks about any of the candidates and I will turn the offender into an item that I will personally plant in the greenhouses. The same goes for any hecklers.”

These words appeared to have a sobering effect upon several members of the audience. At the front, several people with long speeches ready were rechecking their notes before standing up.

“The Chair recognises,” said Clubber, pausing to take a deep breath, “Harry Potter.”

Harry was just stunned, but Hermione shoved him forward.

As Harry walked uncertainly towards the front of the hall, the low hisses that accompanied him as he walked between the long House tables to him that most of the audience was hostile towards him.

He told himself, whilst avoiding several attempts to trip him up, that it was the Governors that mattered. Only they could actually appoint the new Head Teacher.

Ahead, someone shouted, “Give us a song, Potter!” to several laughs.

There was a soft pop and a large potato rolled out across his path.

Harry reached the lectern wishing he had written something down. He looked along the row of Governors, wondering if they dared to defy Voldemort. They looked even older and frail than they had when he was at the far end of the hall, but each had a sharp and alert look in their eyes.

“Mr Potter,” said Clubber with a feeble wave of his hand.

“Um. Thank you,” began Harry, his throat feeling suddenly very dry. “As you may know, Professor McGonagall has taught me for the last six years, and obviously I am very much in favour of her being appointed to the post of Headmistress.

“I’m afraid I know little about Mr Torva, but I’d like to bring something to your attention and leave it to you to decide whether it is relevant or not.

“You may have read that a few days ago a Death Eater camp was raided and several were captured and taken prisoner. What you may not have heard is that on that night I was present at the camp. A prominent feature was a large wheeled structure, the inside of which was an identical copy of this Great Hall.

“Actually,” Harry added with a smile, “it was a rather poor copy. The enchantment of the ceiling was very poorly done. Really amateurish looking,” he finished with a glance around at the barely concealed anger at his insulting Voldemort’s work.

Harry decided to return from is aside, but felt the risk of his being transformed into a small vegetable well worth it.

“Anyway, before the structure was blown up, I sat in the single chair at the front of the hall.”

Gasps were being audibly made behind him now.

“I sat down there for a particular reason. You see, I had to be sure.”

Harry paused, waiting for the murmuring to die down.

“I witnessed some of the events that took place earlier in that hall, on the night of the Tenth of August. That night there was a celebration that, by the time I saw things, had descended into drunken debauchery.

“That night, Voldemort was in attendance and sitting in his seat at the head of the hall.”

There were several angry cries at Harry’s mention of Voldemort’s name followed by several more soft popping noises, including one particularly close behind him as one protester has attempted to lunge at him.

“Now,” continued Harry, “after a moment of particular levity, due to a Centaur having just been murdered in front of them, Voldemort had a good look around at his assembled guests.”

Harry turned and faced the audience.

“They were all sitting at, or under, the four long tables just as you are this evening. Sitting almost at the end of the farthest table, I saw Mr Torva. He was wearing a green cloak that night with an elaborate matching hat. On one side of him was,” Harry paused to point out a small outraged looking wizard, “this gentleman. Opposite on his over side was, um, someone who is now one of these vegetables.”

Harry turned and walked over to Torva.

“This is outrageous!” cried Torva loudly. “I demand that either you provide proof of what you are saying, or the Governors take immediate action.”

“Indeed,” said Clubber. “Mr Potter, this is a serious allegation. Do you have any proof of these events?”

Harry smiled down at Torva for a long moment.

“On the night in question, Torva and his companions were extremely drunk.”

“Ah!” cried Torva. “Everyone knows that I’m teetotal! Indeed, it would be irresponsible of any teacher to-”

“Oh, be quiet,” said Clubber, sounding quite exasperated. “I’ve never trusted people that don’t drink anyway. Continue Mr Potter, but please hurry.”

“Well, Torva was trying to open another bottle, but was too drunk to hold his wand steady enough. His friend opposite, er, the vegetable, attempted to do it for him. The bottle exploded, and Torva’s arm was singed. He looked too drunk to feel it though. Now, as this was a magical burn that didn’t give him pain, I’m hoping that he didn’t bother to have it fixed.”

Torva was looking up at Harry with a horrified look on his face. From the moment Harry had mentioned the bottle, Torva’s left hand had wandered over to his right forearm.

“Roll up your sleeve please, Mr Torva,” asked Harry.

Torva was frozen.

“That won’t be necessary.”

Harry spun around furiously as Clubber continued. “This really isn’t the place for such theatrics, Mr Potter. We ready to vote?”

Harry looked back at Torva who was now wearing a triumphant look. He reached for his wand but was stopped by a warning look from Professor McGonagall. Reluctantly, Harry allowed his arm to drop and he turned to watch the Governors.

Each held a hand up, just above the table, to indicate their vote.

“Unanimous,” announced Clubber casually. Harry was sure he hadn’t even looked at his Co-Governors to count the vote. Not that he had miscounted.

Clubber stood and the entire hall fell silent.

“I would remind everyone present that this is a school,” he said, swaying slightly as he looked around. “We expect you to show dignity and respect to the losing candidate.”

Torva was straightening his robes and nodding magnanimously. McGonagall looked quite lost in thought. Harry imagined she looked like she felt as if she had somehow let Dumbledore down.

“Indeed, we were rather encouraged to have the choice of two candidates with such excellent qualifications and references. Of course, it takes much more than years of teaching experience to be a successful head of the world’s most prestigious wizarding school.”

Harry had more or less stopped listening at this point. He looked across to the side door where Hermione and Ron had appeared. They had already agreed an exit strategy in the event that there was trouble.

“It therefore gives me great pleasure to announce that our new Head Teacher and Headmistress is Professor Minerva McGonagall.”

It took Harry a moment to understand what had just happened.

There was a small cheer from inside the side room but the Great Hall remained in stunned silence.

McGonagall looked white in the face as Order members streamed out of the side room to quickly escort her away.

“This is outrageous!” cried Torva. “I will appeal!”

Harry thought he looked terrified of what Voldemort would do to him having failed to get the job.

“As you wish,” said Clubber calmly. “Mind you, perhaps you should first consider getting some real qualifications and references from people who are still amongst the living. Unfortunately, there’s little you can do about the small matter of that conviction a few years ago, is there?”

The audience was beginning to show signs of agitation now.

“You all have ten minutes to remove yourselves from the Hogwarts grounds. After that, we’ll have even more for the pot.”

These words had an immediate effect, and Harry was sure this was no idle threat.

*

When Harry managed to fight his way through the crowd to Professor McGonagall, she was being enthusiastically congratulated by Hermione.

“Hermione, we haven’t won yet,” she was saying. “I’m sure there will be several more attempts upon my life before term even starts.”

“How many have there been?” Harry asked in alarm.

Professor McGonagall turned and smiled warmly at him.

“Don’t worry, Harry. I’m well protected, and Sergeant Bateman has promised to look in occasionally as well.”

Harry smiled and nodded.

“Thank you for your efforts this evening, by the way. For a moment though, I was afraid you were going to complain about all the lines and detentions I’d given you!”

Harry laughed and replied, “No, it was all the House Point deductions and homework I was going to complain about!”

Professor McGonagall smiled and nodded but was pulled away to be congratulated by a group Harry didn’t recognised. He guessed they were old students of hers.

Hermione grabbed his arm and pulled him through the crowd until they were in the far corner, beside the great fireplace surround that dominated the room.

Harry found himself being greeted before he realised who was there. Sitting in two very long leather settees were Bateman’s crew. Bateman himself was sitting in a large high backed leather easy chair. He alone looked comfortable, with the others looking around nervously at all the strange witches and wizards around them.

Hermione reappeared wearing a wide grin and carrying an armful of bottles. Ron was close behind her with a stack of glasses and several Fire Whiskey bottles.

*

Harry looked around the room. They were the last people still there; that he could see, anyway. He knew he’d had rather too much to drink and he wasn’t entirely sure if he could now see better with, or without, his glasses.

Curled up at his side fast asleep was Hermione. She had wanted to turn in hours ago, but since the others decided that her bottle refills tasted much better than his or Ron’s, she had to stay.

Harry brushed her hair away from her face and resumed listening to one of Duke’s many anecdotes.

“So, for a long time I thought I’d got away with it. Then, I was visiting down in Level 7 for some reason I can’t remember, when this moron gets into the same lift as me.

“It took him a while to recognise me, but he did eventually. Now, you see,” he said, addressing Ron, “he’s an Officer, so it takes them a bit longer for the brain to work things out.

“So he says, where’s my tank?

“I says, what tank? Oh, that tank. Yeah, I swapped it.

“Swapped it? he says. What did you swap it for?

“I swapped it for a helicopter, I said, all innocent like.

“Now, it takes him a while to think this thing through, and I was almost out of the lift doors when he asks, so where’s my helicopter, then?”

It was about this time that Harry realised his face and tongue had become numb with drink. He decided he should probably stop drinking now, so he drained the last of his glass and snuggled down. Hermione shifted and he rested his head gently against hers.

“What else could I say?” continued Duke grinning and swirling his drink expertly, “I told him, it got shot down,” and then everybody except Harry and Hermione joined in, saying or slurring, “by the tank!”

END

*

AN:

Well, that’s it for this one. Thanks for reading and reviewing.

I’ve decided to continue this story as a sequel rather than veer off at a tangent here. I’d better not promise it will be less confusing this way!

Part two of this story is called

The Kemmynadow Betrayal:-

*

Summary of The Kemmynadow Betrayal

“He was a great wizard, Harry. I’ve always said so. The Kemmynadow curse is an ancient magic. There is no way I could defend myself against it and keep the bequest from you,” said Voldemort lightly, “unless,” he added in barely a whisper, “I somehow got you to betray it first. Oh, but Harry,” he added with mock concern, “I’m keeping you from your friends.”

*

The

Introduction and Character Profiles chapter may be found here but you may prefer to go straight to the first story chapter “Dreams” here.

There is likely to be a third part at some point, but again that will be a new story.

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