Now, I know you're all nervous, and I suppose there's a reason for you to be, but we'll get through this, yes? You know we will.
Again, Aurabolt deserves lots of thanks. Dear readers and reviewers, the encouragement I get from all of you is appreciated. There are three more chapters after this, but don't worry… something will be resolved in this chapter, alright? Alright! On with the story!
Standard disclaimers apply. Harry Potter naa n'amin. Harry Potter nae onta ne JKR.
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Chapter Sixteen - Protect the Ones You Love
In which Hermione understands the powers surrounding sacrifice and love.
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Harry got bumped, yet another time, by some stranger trying to get a drink from the bar. It was getting annoying, but less because he had been getting shoved repeatedly by various patrons of the Leaky Cauldron in the last thirty minutes, and more because Hermione was late. Plus, it was becoming increasingly clear that the Leaky Cauldron that night was not the ideal place to be having serious conversation. It was too loud and too crowded. He just wanted Hermione to arrive so he could bring her over to their favorite Spanish restaurant.
He had called her earlier that evening from field-work, telling her that Shacklebolt would let him out of the office by seven thirty. She agreed to meet with him at the Leaky Cauldron around that time. She still hadn't shown up.
The fact was he had been craving to get back to her since he left her at home that morning. Their conversation the previous night hadn't exactly been reassuring, and his feelings about it hadn't been assuaged by their love making later that night, either.
It was bad enough he had to leave her on the couch alone when he got up for work, but his worry nagged him all day, especially when a couple of rogue Dementors broke loose of the charms controlling them in Azkaban. He had barely mustered a fawn when he was struck by the barrage of bad memories and cold fear.
Ron had left the house early, too, grumbling about how he had been summoned by his boss to apparate to France because one of their most promising Chaser recruits had managed to get himself imprisoned in a muggle detention facility. Harry had frankly hoped Hermione wouldn't be left alone at home. He wasn't sure yet why he wanted her to have company. She was a big girl. She'd certainly manage by herself for a day.
"Sorry 'bout the crowd tonight, Harry," said Tom with a grin. He actually looked like he was enjoying the business he was generating, but he did really manage to convey the sincerity behind his apology. "How about a shot of whiskey on the house?"
Harry cracked a smile, appreciating Tom's way of saying, "You're a regular here and I like your business. Let me buy you a drink so these newbies don't tick you off."
"Thanks, but I'll pass on the alcoholic drinks for now. I'm waiting for Hermione and we've got some place else to go after we meet."
Tom shrugged, unaffected. "I'll buy you both a drink some other time, then." He was called over by a customer before Harry could give a reply.
Five minutes later, Harry decided he would go pester Hermione. He excused himself from the bar, aware that he would lose his place the moment he left it. He didn't care. He wasn't planning on sticking around anyway.
Pushing his way out of the Leaky Cauldron and out to Muggle London, he paced around the sidewalk as he dialed Hermione's mobile.
She answered almost immediately. She didn't even say hello. "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry I'm late! I've been trying to call you-"
"It's alright. I was just a bit worried. Are you heading here anytime soon?" He didn't mean to sound impatient, but he was worried, and the sooner she got to him, the sooner he could be certain of her safety.
"Yes. Fifteen minutes."
He sighed. "Fine. I'll go sit inside… "
"I'm so sorry, darling. I love you."
Well, he was always rather easy when she brought out the tender persuasions. His impatience waned. "I love you, too. Get here soon. I miss you already. I've been thinking about you all day."
"I-I've been thinking about you all day, too, and I desperately want to see you… in a while, alright?"
"Alright."
They disconnected. Harry was just about to step back into the Leaky Cauldron when his phone rang the second time around.
He smiled, thinking it was Hermione again. He was really beginning to like this mobile, but when he looked at the caller I.D., it was Ron. That was rather amusing, as he had never had Ron call him before. He picked it up. "Hey, mate. Milestone, this one. You actually used the telly-phonie!"
"Shut it. I'm in a fix. I just got back from France and-well, I think something's wrong with me."
"What? Are you alright?"
Ron sighed exasperatedly. "Oh, I'm fine, but… where are you?"
"The Leaky Cauldron. Muggle side. Ron, what's-"
"Okay, great." Ron cut off the line.
There was a loud crack nearby, and Ron appeared from the shadows looking extremely agitated.
"I don't get it!" he hissed to no one in particular.
Harry arched an eyebrow. "Err-you alright, mate?"
"Harry, I think I'm going stupid… well, stupider than usual. I've been trying to apparate to Grimmauld Place for the past half hour but I can't seem to manage it! I keep getting transported all over the place!"
Harry frowned. "But you got here fine."
"That's just it! I can apparate wherever I want except there. I'm beginning to think you and Hermione secretly want me out of the house since you started shagging each other."
"Don't be a prat, Ron!" he hissed. "You live in that house same as we do, so only you and the house get to decide whether you want to live in it or not. Hermione and I have no say in that."
"Well, why can't I apparate there?"
"You must be doing something wrong."
"Bloody hell, I honestly don't care right now. I just want to get home and sleep!"
Harry sighed. "I'll side-along you, then. We'll figure it out in the morning. Hermione'll be here in fifteen minutes, so I have other things to worry about."
Ron didn't argue. He took hold of Harry's sleeve.
Harry apparated them to Grimmauld Place…
And found themselves in Paddington.
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Hermione felt the ripple in the wards as she sat in the center of her ritual circle. The wards were holding, but that hadn't been the first time she felt someone trying to get through it. It mean either Ron or Harry had been trying to apparate to Grimmauld Place and was finding it impossible. It would only be a matter of time before they found out something was very wrong and try another means of getting home.
That was fine. By that time, she'd have the protection spell in place for them, and they wouldn't be able to throw themselves between her and danger, even if they wanted to.
She had to expect that Lysander would employ measures to stop them from interfering, but at least he wouldn't be able to hurt them.
Placed in front of her were two items of material and sentimental value to Harry and Ron: Harry's Firebolt and Ron's battered, but autographed, figurine of Krum.
She smiled fondly. The two most important men in her life would forever be bound by Quidditch when it came down to it.
She looked up at the moon, barely visible in this stage of its life. The roof of Grimmauld Place had always been excellent for stargazing. Tonight, she was hard-pressed to enjoy it.
Nearby, the things she would need to prepare for Lysander's arrival were ready. To be able to see the auras, she needed to drug herself with dragon-potion. It was necessary, or else she wouldn't be able to manipulate her aura and Lysander's at all over the scrying mirror.
The other materials for her counter spells were around her, and tucked in the small of her back underneath her jeans was the Nauta Oira. It would be the most essential tool in her ritual. She couldn't afford to lose it.
She had studied up on a few more Elven spells that might be useful, though she desperately hoped she didn't have to use them.
Hermione swept her arm over Harry and Ron's things, muttering the Elven incantations to complete the spell. "Yala onna en' vilya, kemen, naur, i alu."
A slight wind blew through her from all directions. The runes around her, drawn on the floor with her chalk, glowed bright, warm pink...
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Harry apparated both of them back to the Leaky Cauldron with Ron screeching, "You see!" as they went.
Harry had stopped speaking all together, grabbing Ron by the collar of his shirt as he dragged him inside the pub. He went to the fireplace, using his magic to push people out of the way. There were surprised yells as they went, but Harry didn't care. The worry he had been harboring for Hermione all day was coagulating into chilling fear at the pit of his stomach.
Perhaps seeing the look on his face, many of the patrons moved out of his way of their own accord, wondering who the hell Harry Potter was going to murder and why.
He grabbed a handful of floo powder from the corner of the hearth.
"Grimmauld Place!" he enunciated, throwing the powder in.
The green flames erupted for a second, but died almost as quickly. Harry tried it again and the same thing happened.
"Blimey!" cried Ron. "Not even the floo! The house has gone batty!"
"It's not the house," Harry hissed, his voice hoarse. "We have to get back there." He stalked to the bar in big strides. "Tom!"
Tom turned to him instantly.
"Have you a flying broom handy?"
Tom looked apologetic. "Well, I have a really old Cleansweep…"
Harry shook his head. Way too slow, and not worth the trouble of violating the Statute of Secrecy. A taxi would be more sensible. "Thanks anyway." He made for the doors and Ron followed.
"Harry, why are you acting so weird? Is there something you know that you're not telling me?"
Harry nodded, pushing out of the pub doors. "I think Hermione's in trouble."
"In trouble! What kind of-"
"I don't know, but it's really bad trouble. I can feel it."
Harry raised an arm to flag a taxi and one immediately pulled up the curb. He swung the door open. "Get in, Ron."
Ron did and Harry was about to follow when he heard his name being called from behind. He didn't want to be bothered, so he got into the taxi anyway, but when he looked up, he saw that it was Luna Lovegood. Her blonde hair was tied up in a strange, messy bun and her wand was, of course, tucked behind her ear. Her bottle cap necklace didn't completely show, but it was evident that she had it tucked beneath her shirt.
"I'd like to talk to you, Harry Potter," she said in her odd, spacey way.
"Sorry, Luna, but I really can't right now." He was just about to slam the cab door shut when Luna spoke again.
"Don't you want to know what you're up against when you get there?"
Harry froze. He didn't know why he was even giving Luna the time of day. Every second he wasted may mean something terrible was happening to Hermione.
Fortunately, Luna didn't want him wasting time either. She hurried into the cab after him, pressing the boys more tightly into the backseat so she could accommodate herself.
"Oy!" Ron cried, whose impossibly long legs were making things difficult enough as it was.
Luna paid him no heed as she pulled the door of the taxi shut. "Tufnell Park, please. Grimmauld Place," she told the cabbie. "And make it quick. It's an emergency."
The driver nodded, taking off.
Harry just then recovered. "I hate to be rude, Luna, but what the hell are you doing?"
"Harry Potter, you have not changed a bit," she said dreamily. "You are still so foolishly brave."
"Hey, now, don't you be calling Harry foolish!" cried Ron.
Luna smiled. "Hello, Your Majesty! You haven't changed either. You're still following the brave fool."
"What!"
Harry was getting tired of being disparaged. He scowled, ready to stop the taxi and have her step out of it. "Look here, Luna-"
"My, my, you were certainly more polite to me when you were speaking to me the other day."
Harry's scowl deepened. "I haven't spoken to you in ages Luna, what are you on about?"
"She's gone more mental than usual," Ron muttered.
Luna's eyebrow arched as she smiled. "I get that a lot. As for you, Harry… been to the Department of Mysteries lately?"
Harry gave a start. "How did you-" He paused to stare at her a moment before the significance of her words hit him. "No…" He couldn't believe it, yet it actually made perfect sense. She was his Unspeakable!
"Yes," she said. "I must say, I'm quite glad you came to me with your concerns. Your information has proven to be a challenging study in research, but it was that last bit of information you and Remus brought me the other day that really got my work rolling."
"What is going on?" Ron asked irritably.
Harry was in no mood for niceties. He had no choice but to take Luna's word for it. "Later, Ron! Luna, what have you found out?"
Luna did not dally further. "Quite simply, Harry, Mr. Athanasius is a Nordic Elf."
Harry was not processing this. He shook his head vigorously. "A what elf? You mean there are kinds?"
"Wait, you mean Athanasius isn't human?" Ron cried. "What-"
Luna rolled her eyes.
"Well, of course there are kinds," she said, ignoring Ron. "We wouldn't be calling House Elves House Elves if there wasn't any other kind of elf. We'd just be calling them elves, period."
Harry gritted his teeth. "I've only ever known of one kind."
"Yes, well, so has the rest of the Wizarding World today… well, most wizards, at least, but apparently, there's more than one kind of elf. As you probably figured, Nordic Elves are different from your average House Elf. Nordic Elves are prettier, taller, more seductive, more powerful-"
Harry made a circling gesture with his hand to hurry things along. "Yes, yes… what is he doing to Hermione?"
"He's using ancient Elven magic, which is why we couldn't pinpoint what it was he was doing. Their magic is different. Subtler, but it's a purer form of magic wizards use today, therefore it's inherently more powerful. Any text on Elven magic is transcribed in Elvish, so a very, very select few have the ability to read it at all. Everything I know about Elves at this point came from very obscure, banned literature written by dead wizards in English, so I'm not even certain of my information's accuracy. One thing I can tell you for certain is that only Nordic Elves and their human familiars can speak and read Elvish."
"But Hermione's not a Nordic Elf."
"Your powers of deduction are great, Harry," Luna breathed as her eyes glazed over.
Harry simmered. He wanted to tell her that this was no time to be snarky, but he supposed that would be a waste of time in itself. He moved the conversation along. "Are you telling me Hermione's-"
"It's possible she isn't a familiar yet, but potential familiars begin to share the base magic of their masters when the binding process is begun and this includes the knowledge of reading Elven text," she said. "It doesn't mean Hermione got into it voluntarily, mind you. She could have been tricked, but be that as it may, tonight… with the waxing moon, she's going to become his familiar if she doesn't put a stop to it…"
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She checked the time as she finished the first few steps of the protection process. It has been more than fifteen minutes since she first began feeling the disturbance in the wards. Harry would likely be coming around soon. She had to enact the final step to put the protection spell in place.
Hermione grasped the athame, enclosed it in the grip of her left hand and swiped it out with her right.
She hissed at the sting but let the blood drip through her fingers. The trails of red fell upon Harry's broom and Ron's Krum figurine. The items pulsed. She knew then the spell would work.
"Amin serke o sina amin mahta,
Varya o yaara tuure turma."
Blood of mine, with this I wield,
Protect with ancient power's shield.
The runes flashed a blinding pink, exploding upwards and around her as she sat in the middle of the magical upheaval.
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Harry saw the flash of pink light coming from the roof of Grimmauld Place. "Shit," he hissed.
Ron's eyes widened like saucers at the sight. "Harry! What in Merlin's name-"
They passed the house. The driver didn't seem to notice anything.
"Stop the cab!" Harry cried.
The cabbie stepped on the breaks and the vehicle came to a halt with a screech. All three passengers lunged forward before falling back on their seats.
Harry plucked two galleons from his pocket and tossed it at the cabbie.
"Oy!" the cabbie protested.
"That's real gold, mate," said Harry. "Keep the change."
The cabbie's eyes widened. If his concern for his cab fare was any indication, he wasn't seeing what the wizards were seeing. He bit into the galleon, checking the metal.
No. 12 Grimmauld Place was bathed in a coalescing pink light, shimmering under the waxing moon.
Harry was still processing everything Luna had told him along the way, but he still felt ill prepared for whatever it was he had to face.
He stopped in his tracks as he felt a thrum of power pulse through him, like he had walked through a wall and it vibrated the very core of his bones. A comforting warmth settled upon him for a heartbeat, then it was gone.
"What the hell was that magic?" cried Ron frantically as the taxi sped off.
Harry looked at him. "You felt it too? Like a wall?"
"Yes!"
"I didn't feel it," said Luna, her brows knotting. "Did it feel warm afterwards? Comforting?"
Harry nodded. "What do you know about it?"
"It's probably an Elven protection spell," said Luna with wide-eyed expression. "Hermione likely cast it for you and Ron. I don't think I can go with you now. If I do, I can be putting Hermione in more danger."
"But-" Harry sought words desperately. "But you're the only one who knows what we're up against!" He can't have Luna backing out now. Without Hermione, Luna was the only one who had the brains to match!
An expression of despair came over Luna's face and Harry felt his stomach drop. He didn't like it when she lost the dreamy look in her eyes.
"Where you go, I can do no good," she said. "I'll explain… later."
If we get out of this alive, thought Harry grimly.
"Lysander can be harmed by wizard magic," said Luna. "But you'll find it difficult, especially if he has complete control of the situation. I doubt he'd be able to harm you. The protection spell Hermione cast on you, I'd expect, is a high-level Elven charm. If she used blood, it can only be broken if she wills it. Just remember that a lot of Elven magic is based on binding. She binds you to be protected. Lysander has bound her to answer his summons. He's trying to bind her to become his familiar. So it's only logical if you break the binding-"
"We can break him," said Harry. "How do we do that?"
"I don't know if there is anything you can do. The difference of magic presents a problem. It's like he's using fire when all you have is earth," she said, her dreamy eyes turning apologetic. "But it bears mentioning that at this point in time, he shares very similar traits to very dark creatures."
"Explain that to me as briefly as you can, Luna."
"Dark creatures: Vampires, Lamias… they all live off a host of sorts."
Harry nodded, absorbing this information. "Understood. What other information do you have?"
"The problem with Hermione's protection spell is that while you might be able to attack Lysander, you won't be able to lend your power to her, like she and Ron did for you with Voldemort."
Harry didn't even bother to ask Luna how she knew about that. He let her go on.
"She's the only one right now who can really harm him because unlike you, she has access to Elven magic, so the fact of the matter is, you'd be very helpful to her if you can give her your aura and strengthen her magic, but the protection spell will prevent you from connecting with her, because if she breaks and gives in to Lysander, any connection with you would bring you down with her. The protection spell therefore forbids you to put yourselves in that situation."
Harry felt the blood draining from his face.
Oh, sweet Merlin, Hermione… why?
But Hermione already answered that question last night, didn't she? He knew why, and he could even understand, but it didn't change the fact that he might be absolutely helpless to save her.
"I'm so confused," Ron groaned. "But if hexing Lysander Athanasius is involved, I'm all for it. Let's go then, Harry."
"I'll summon the proper reinforcements," said Luna. "But it's going to take a while. Hermione's wards around number 12 are strong. If I manage to get the calls out on time, the aurors would have to travel the muggle way."
Harry understood. "Just do it."
She nodded. "Merlin speed."
With that, she apparated away.
Harry and Ron didn't need to speak. They rushed on along the block to reach number 12, breaking off into a run. The front lawn had never seemed so vast, and Hermione's wards were making it difficult to get across.
"Bloody hell, Harry! Why has she done this?" cried Ron.
"I don't know, Ron. Right now, I don't care. We just need to get to her."
Ron looked up and his jaw dropped. "Fuck!"
Harry followed his gaze, and above them, in a traveling mist, apparated Lysander.
He was too far up to hex, even for Harry, but it was clear that he was going straight for the roof.
Harry grabbed Ron by the collar and fought against the wards to drag them to the porch. Harry didn't bother with keys. He blew the knob off the door and kicked it in, stumbling across the threshold with Ron.
They rushed as one up the stairs, both of them afraid to apparate lest the house expel them to Merlin Knew Where.
Reaching the top floor, they bounded through the hallway and flung the door to the roof open.
What Harry saw made him pause for an instant.
Hermione knelt at the center of the roof in the middle of a glowing pink circle. Harry recognized his Firebolt and what looked like a mangled toy figurine. Both were smeared with something dark and red.
Blood, he realized.
As the tendrils of pink rose from her circle and the runes written around it, Harry could make out various other materials placed around her.
She moved her hands over a pot that caught fire instantly, and the fumes rose up in a rush. She inhaled them before taking something from the pot and ingesting it. Then she closed her eyes.
At the edge of the roof, Lysander hovered, watching her with barely veiled glee.
Rage overcame Harry, and he raised his wand with the determination to hurt Lysander very badly.
"Sectumsempra!"
Ron's own wand whipped through the air. "Stupefy!"
Lysander didn't even spare them a glance.
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Hermione gasped as she heard the fire of hexes. She turned, seeing Harry and Ron at the door, and for an instant, she felt a crippling fear; that her protection spell hadn't worked.
Lysander grinned, calmly raising his hand, palm out. "'Kshonna wanya."
The play of auras around her were explosive and she stifled the wave of nausea that was beginning to creep up on her. She didn't know if it was because she had rushed the process with the dragon-potion or if it was because she was scared out of her mind; either way, she wouldn't be surprised if she threw up all over herself.
The hexes dissipated before they could reach Lysander, and before Harry and Ron could recover from the shock of it, Lysander muttered another spell in his tongue. "Bragollach tel'llach."
Hermione shrieked as a ball of fire hurtled towards Harry and Ron.
She heard their combined cries of protego but she knew the charm would be useless.
Lysander's curse passed right through their shield. Harry and Ron raised their arms in a futile gesture to protect themselves, acting more on instinct than logic, but the fireball passed, dissipating into cool air as it hit them. There was smoke, but they were unharmed.
"H-Holy mother of Merlin!" Ron cried.
Hermione almost fainted with relief as she found her breath once again. It worked!
Lysander scowled, throwing a spell out from his hand. "N'tess gothamin!" A blue light shot out from his fingertips and encased Harry and Ron in a pale blue box.
"Shit!" Harry hissed, banging his fist against the surface of it. "Athanasius, you freak! I'll kill you with my bare hands!"
Ron frowned grimly. "I think killing him quickly would be too kind, Harry."
Lysander wasn't pleased, but Hermione doubted it was because of their less than affectionate words.
"Hermione Jane Granger," said Lysander, eyebrow arching in her direction. "You've cast a protection spell on them. How very… impressive of you."
"I invoked dominion, too," she said to gather her courage as she got to her feet. "You crossed the threshold of the house without my express permission. You can't harm them, and now you can't harm their kin, either."
More surprise rippled through his handsome features. "My, my, my, poppet… you have been reading your Elven spells!"
"Don't call me poppet, parasite!" she spat.
He seemed amused. "Then what do you want me to call you, Familiar?"
"I'm not your familiar yet, so you can forget coming up with pet names."
"Hermione," said Harry desperately. "Love… sweetheart… lift the spell from us. Let us help you. Please, just…"
She looked at him, her eyes filled with apology. He was such a dear. "No. The spell holds unless I expressly recant it, and it won't break even if-even if he manages to kill me-"
"Kill you?" Ron squeaked. "Oy, you bloody skirt, you can't die! We defeated Voldemort, you ninny! You can't let this twat do you in!"
Hermione gave him a plaintive smile.
Lysander choked on a laugh. "Is he comparing me to Voldemort? I can't say I'm flattered, really. That man was a little batty, if you ask me."
Hermione glared at him. "Look who's talking!"
Lysander scoffed. "I'm perfectly sane, ma petite. World domination was so last season and really, who wants the trouble of ruling the world, anyway?"
The magical wind rippling through the roof blew a bit of Lysander's collar open and Hermione saw a hint of a deep scar. Remembering Flitwick telling her about the injury Danaides sustained while at Hogwarts, it confirmed what she had already long suspected. "I'm ending this tonight, Danaides," she hissed. "No matter what happens, I'm not going to let myself be enslaved for five hundred years."
He winced. "Five hundred seems like such an awful long time. My father, Isidore, couldn't stand to keep them for longer than two hundred, but you, ma petite, look to be good for three hundred, at least. You will after all, be my first."
She growled. "Stop calling me ma petite!"
His eyes darkened, and he glared at her. "Yalla onna en' vilya!"
A burst of wind shot past her, blowing all of her ritual materials away. The scrying mirror flipped and shattered at her feet, sending shards everywhere.
"Shit!" she hissed, bracing herself against the blast and squeezing her eyes shut. She felt her stomach clench in dismay. The drums of owls toppled over, making a thunder-like racket as envelopes scattered all around. She felt panic come over her in waves.
"Hyandea en' luhta," said Lysander, his tone menacing.
She felt the surface of her skin sting abominably and she gave a shrill shriek. She opened her eyes and was horrified to see cuts all over her arms, blossoming with blood. Her jeans were tattered in countless places, staining her denims red. The pain was nothing to her terror, an ocean of doubt swallowing her whole.
"I can call you whatever I want," he said. "The choice is mine to make. I am your master and you are the familiar!"
God, can I do this? I can't defeat him! What the hell was I thinking?
But she had to believe. She had to force her will or else Lysander would win, and she simply couldn't let him.
She looked at Harry and Ron who stood helpless within their magical prison. Harry was begging her with his eyes and Ron was yelling for her to lift the spell off them.
She would do no such thing, and she found her resolve gaining strength again. She would do this for them. She chose to fight because of them.
Lysander's aura began to prod hers. She could see it with her dragon-drugged eyes. He settled his feet to the floor and a circle of blue, wrought with runes, began to glow around his feet. He didn't need any chalk. His powers of conjuration were great, after all.
She heaved against his aura and magic, pushing him back.
He sneered. "Bitch."
She sneered back, arching her eyebrow. "Wanker."
That probably wasn't a good idea.
He forced himself through her power and the pain caught her instantly. It was agonizing, like hell had opened up inside her and poured molten rock out of her wounds.
She screamed, crumpling to the floor as the waves of his aura forced itself into her. She pushed and refused. She would not let their auras combine.
There were explosions. She didn't know where it was coming from, but there were pieces of roof tile flying; wood chips; eroded metal. Emotions of anger sent debris flying. It wasn't Lysander, and it certainly wasn't her. She hadn't the strength to be angry right now. And then there was someone-no, two voices, were calling her name. Her vision, blurred by pain, began to clear, and she remembered where she was; who was hurting her.
"Fighting it will only bring you pain, Hermione," said Lysander. "Give in and I'll make it easy for you in the next three hundred years."
She opened her mouth and she found her voice amidst her gasps. She pushed herself off the floor.
"That's it, Hermione!" cried Harry from the side. "Don't give in!"
Ron gave a whoop. "Yeah, show that nasty piece of shit who's boss!"
Their encouragement helped her summon the courage to speak out, her eyes boring through Lysander's. "I'd rather feel that pain the next three hundred years than give in to you, you son of a bitch!"
And the agony of his touch was upon her again. Claws down her body as she burned from the inside-out. The pain was so intense that she wanted to die; to end it. She wanted to leave the prison of herself to unattainable relief. Tears fell. She couldn't stop them if she wanted to.
The world was suddenly unimportant. There was only her and the pain. She couldn't take it.
But if she gave in, he would take her, and she would be his until he tired of her. For all his promises of love and affection, familiars were just slaves in Wizard's clothing.
When the pain went away, she slumped to the floor, cheek pressed to the rough surface of the roof. She couldn't even look up. She was breathing, and she was alive, but she didn't want to be alive.
She felt herself being lifted from the ground by invisible hands. He pulled her to him, her feet hovering above the floor.
Relief washed over her. Warmth and happiness and comfort. Nothing felt better. Nothing could be better.
"Feel that?" asked Lysander in a whisper. He held her near enough to touch. "It can be like that always if you just give in."
Weakly, she lifted a hand to touch his face.
Maybe it wasn't so bad.
Then she heard voices, begging her not to listen to him, shouting for her to stay with them.
"Hermione!" It was a voice she knew so very well; loved so deeply. It was Harry's. "Amin ve laa er lle hanya! Hermione, you remember that, don't you?"
I am like no one you've met.
And she understood. She had said those same words to Lysander in a dream, because she had believed in herself. She had believed she can get through this. That belief would get her through.
"Amin nauva i noole," she whispered. My will is the key.
The hand she had lifted to touch him turned, and she brushed her knuckle against Lysander's cheek before she raised her middle finger right to his face. She flashed him a malicious smile. "Screw you."
His rage pierced through her, making her double over in mid-air. It was like a great hand had taken her into its grip and crumpled her. She felt crushed, like she was being forced into a ball. Then he threw her back, sending her crashing to the old perimeter wall. The impact knocked the wind out of her as chips of old wood and paint burst through the air, sprinkling her with age-old debris.
Her vision blurred. Her back and head hurt from hitting the wall and she felt rather weak with all the pain she had had to endure. Her vision spiraled for a second before settling to a dull hum.
She thought maybe she would retch, her stomach roiling violently.
She blinked.
She saw, several feet away, Lysander, tilting his head at her in amusement.
He tutted. "Nwalmaer, lle lava?"
Tormented one, do you yield?
She could see his aura prodding hers. She resisted, but she couldn't put up a fierce fight at the moment.
"Detholamin," she whispered feebly.
My choice.
"Detholamin an n'degina lle."
My choice to destroy you.
He smirked.
She closed her eyes and summoned the only Ace she had. Her "Ace" had already rushed up the stairs, padding quickly through the roof door and leaping over boxes to set himself on the ledge of the roof. His tail swished as the back of Lysander's blonde head came in view.
Hermione opened her eyes.
Now, Crookshanks!
Crookshanks leapt from behind, his own familiar magic glowing from his claws. He jumped Lysander and sank his magic-enhanced claws right on Lysander's cheeks.
Lysander screamed as Crookshank's nails dug into his flawless skin.
Hermione caught hold of his tendrils of aura just when the caging charm around Harry and Ron disintegrated.
"Sectumsempra!" Harry cried.
The hex caught Lysander from shoulder to chest, slashing upward in a red trail. Lysander's blood poured from the wound just as Ron executed a stunning hex.
Lysander screamed, but he did not go down, flinging a protection charm outward as he healed the cuts Harry dealt him and protected himself against the rain of curses.
Hermione watched as Harry and Ron fired spells at Lysander. He deflected every single one, and that with a cat clawing at him, too, but it was time bought for what Hermione needed to do.
She struggled to push herself up from the ground, but it was difficult. The pain all over her body felt too sharp to bear. She had counted on the pain, but she hadn't counted on it physically impairing her. She had always thought that there were certain aches that could be overcome by will. This was not that kind of ache.
Now her arms shook. Will, she possessed, but she was drained of power. Even with her contingency plan, she might not have enough to carry herself through. She would lose.
And then she felt it, the quiet strength of wizarding magic coaxing her to accept. She looked up and saw Harry casting her a glance. He was offering magic and she took a moment to be awed by him. Lending magic, without a proper ritual, was no easy thing. Harry wasn't her familiar, and they weren't connected in any magical way, yet Harry was giving her his power.
He was using some kind of complicated spell, or else he just knew how to do it without knowing how to explain it. It was familiar, anyway, even if it wasn't a controlled gesture, but rather an instinctual one. She remembered this spell signature from the night they combined to defeat Voldemort…
Either way, he had to be using serious wizarding powers to manage it at all. But then this was the extraordinary, the amazing Harry Potter, after all.
Only one question remained. Would she take it or not? If she did, she would break the protection spell on him and she would be risking the freedom of his soul. If she didn't…
If I don't take it and I fail; if Lysander manages to overcome me, Harry will never forgive himself…
She remembered everything he had done for her, and everything she had done for him. It was then she understood the full extent of what love could accomplish. It wasn't just about suffering for your loved ones or shielding them from danger. It was also about loving them enough to give them strength; holding them in times of weakness; empowering them to have a choice, whether it's to leave or let them stay.
At that moment, the spell that had bound her to keep it all a secret-to refuse their help; to make her feel alone-finally shattered under the power of their combined emotions of love and the need to protect.
Harry's offered magic poured into her, she felt warmth and comfort, giving her the strength to rise to her feet. She knew then she couldn't fail. His power boosted hers and it would be enough to get her through.
She bled her hand and let her blood drip to the ground. "Elea i'dolen!"
A circle surrounded by runes glowed from the floor where once it wasn't there, creating her ritual space in an instant. It was a back-up circle, prepared in case her initial plan crumbled. Her foresight was always a handy thing.
"Tyela nuema!" She called to untrap the gestalt magic she had stored inside Crookshanks hours before. The magic contained within him erupted and flowed back to her, combining with Harry's borrowed power. It gave her the strength she would need to perform the final rite.
The wind blew in her hair and her eyes glowed silver.
She pulled the Nauta Oira from behind her and held it out. "Bela ed' templa."
The book levitated just beneath her down-turned palm.
Raising her wand, she used the biggest mirror shard she could find and enlarged it while she summoned the shard to settle in front of her.
Crookshanks, let him go.
The cat leapt off Lysander and he gave an enraged howl, blocking Harry's and Ron's spells as he cast his eyes on her.
"Avarier!" he roared. "Lle tar finwa!"
Unwilling one! You are beyond your means!
"Lle naa haran e' nausalle, L'sandre!" she hissed back. You are king only in your imagination, Lysander! "Ar sii… lle naa amin."
And now… you're mine.
She called the candles to her, their flames erupting as they settled around her circle. The circle and runes pulsed pink before deepening to red. She was now using the power from his aura, the aura he had forced upon her; it was borne of pain, will and sacrifice, exactly what this final spell required of it. She smirked and the terrified look in his eyes as realization hit him just strengthened her resolve. She spoke the incantation over the Nauta Oira in whispered reverence.
"Lle yeeta an mauya fea, mirima nauva ar onna vanima," she began, throwing the magic of the words to him.
"Ermiad-na!" he cried in her Elven name. "Mani na lle umien?"
Hermione, what are you doing?
She ignored him, knowing that he was trying to distract her. The beginnings of the spell was restraining him; already starting to bind him. If she let him break her concentration, he might be able to break through the restraints.
He began an incantation in Elvish and Hermione's concentration broke momentarily. Panic suffused her. She needed to regain her momentum and she had to regain it fast.
He was trying to force his aura in her again and she couldn't force him back and finish the spell at the same time. If she didn't find a way to buy herself some time in the next second, he would have her bound, and all the pain she endured would be all for naught.
"Lle naa amin, Ermyad-na," Lysander drawled.
You're mine, Hermione.
Her eyes widened just as a blinding white light flashed all around them.
A silver shimmering stag materialized, throwing his mighty head back to show off its spectacular antlers. It charged at Lysander, bucking its hooves in a righteous rampage as it passed right through his shields.
Lysander tried to fight it back, but this was the same patronus that drove away a dozen dementors all at the same time.
Pride replaced Hermione's feelings of fear. She found the strength, and knowing she could continue the spell unimpeded, she recited the final verses with powerful focus.
"Hanay naikelea nauta temma, lle suule harya lye nuquerna," she breathed. "Mi unque lle kara; an atsa lle mi lle ingole. Fainu lle uutuuva, tenna lle tuuva moota mane!"
You who sought to force the spirits, Free by will and nature's right
Will know the pain of binding limits, your spirit owned we now indict
Within a prison of your make; to trap you with your magic's own.
Never will you find escape, until in goodness you atone!
The book beneath her hand shuffled open, pages flipping in the whirling wind.
Lysander screamed and threw a curse at her.
Badgered by the patronus, his weak hex bounced harmlessly off her protego.
She raised her palm, the book moving in sync.
"You can't!" cried Lysander as his aura began to get sucked into the book. "You haven't the power!"
Hermione fought to pull him in and she narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh… yes… I… DO!" She jerked her hand into a fist.
She heaved him in and his skin began to tear from his very bones. The book, one he claimed to have kept by him since he was a child, was a prison of his own making, and it ate at him piece by gruesome piece. His screaming never ceased and he fought with tremendous strength. She poured what magic she had to pulling him in, but if he fought long enough, he'd simply outlast her, and she wasn't about to let him get away from her when she'd come this far.
She had to make sure she could end this now.
"Harry!" she cried, hoping that the desperation in her tone would be enough.
Lysander turned disembodied eyes at him, the dark light in them shining with menacing hate. "Human, don't you dare!"
Harry didn't need an explanation. He glared back, eyes flashing with equal intensity. "Dare this, you degenerate fuck!" He raised his wand and cried out the incantation. "Effligo pravus!"
Harry's aura burst far and wide as ruby red magic shot out of his wand. His aura extended before crouching into a massive wave-like entity.
The spell that destroyed Voldemort engulfed Lysander in its power and the elf's roar resounded through the night as he fought off the effects of the enchantment. He didn't melt the way Voldemort did, but it shattered what strength he had fighting Hermione's binding magic.
Lysander stumbled into the book, his screams following him.
And just when Hermione thought they had him, Lysander's hand shot out of the pages, grabbing for the book's hard cover. Harry hissed, aiming his wand.
"No, allow me," said Ron. He flicked his wand delicately, holding it by his thumb and forefinger like a teacup. "Reducto!" he chimed.
The hand was reduced to powder and its specks were sucked into the pages.
Hermione felt her aura being pulled, and just when the book began to consume it, she screamed the incantation to close the gates.
The book banged shut, slamming against her chest and sending her flying backwards on impact while the piece of scrying mirror exploded into tiny shards.
Hermione felt like Hagrid had punched her right on the chest, but she held the book tight against her even as she gasped to get air back into her lungs.
"Hermione!"
She wasn't sure who had said it. Probably both boys, because seconds later, they were staring down at her, both of them looking like they were just about to have a stroke.
The effects of the dragon potion were gone, dispersed by her closing of the ritual.
It's over, she thought with wearying relief. It's really over.
And she was alive.
Barely.
"Fuck…" she breathed, unable to find a more appropriate swear word. She winced at the twisting pain all over her body. "I never thought he'd be so fucking hard on me! Bastard!" There had to be something broken. All the pain had to account for something.
"Ron, call St. Mungo's, now," Harry said.
Ron nodded, getting to his feet.
Cracks began sounding from below and Ron jogged to the side of the roof.
"The cavalry's arrived!" he said. "I'll get a medi-wizard. Hang on, Hermione."
Ron apparated, probably to the front lawn.
"Harry," she gasped. "You have to seal the book. Seal it now."
"Please, Hermione, you have to relax."
"Seal it!"
He sighed, placing the tip of his wand lightly on the Nauta Oira's cover. "Obexicis."
A swath of light wrapped around the book once and then another across it. Nobody but Harry can open it now.
Hermione nodded. "Harry, whatever you do, don't let anyone try to open this book or read from it. Alright? Not until I can explain everything. They'll likely sedate me, and frankly, I'm feeling a little woozy right now."
Harry sighed again. "Hermione, you're going to tax yourself into a coma. Please don't make me go through that again! I'd simply roll over and go mad. It's bad enough I had to watch you do all that by yourself! Please!"
"Just promise me you'll let no one touch this!" Of course, it wasn't that easy to release Lysander from the book. It would take a lot of complicated spells, bloodshed and rituals to get him out without the book deeming him reformed, but she wasn't going to take any chances.
"I promise, now stay calm. The medi-wizard will be here soon."
She hissed as another pain jabbed at her side. "Cor, Harry… I think he broke everything…"
Harry looked terribly worried. "The medi-wizard will give you something for the pain."
She watched him, deciphering the look in his eyes. It was a deep pain laced with what was his personality: The compulsion to protect and save the ones he loved.
He's probably worried sick and angry at the same time, she thought, trying not to chuckle, as it would hurt a bit too much to do that right now.
"I would have told you if I could, Harry," she said, cringing at the resonating throb of pain. "I would have, but I was bespelled, and I couldn't give you details."
He seemed surprised by this, but instantly, the anger began to dissipate.
Then rethinking her own words, she frowned. "I would have told you, but I wouldn't have asked you to help. Too dangerous for you."
This time he did scowl, but he gently took her hand and squeezed it. "We'll talk about everything later. Right now we just have to get you better." He looked up as two medi-wizards arrived. Behind them were Ron, Remus and Gail.
Hermione shoved the book in his hands and he took it, tucking it into the pockets of his robes to assure her. She managed a smile.
The medi-wizards fell upon her, and the moment Harry left, the medi-wizard put her in stasis.
And her world turned incomprehensible.
0000000000000000000
Harry let the medi-wizards work, watching them put her in stasis. It wasn't sleep, but she wasn't exactly conscious, either. It removed the risk of putting her in a coma but relieved her of anymore pain for the time being. They would remove stasis when they had her completely stable.
He looked up from her and found Ron, Remus and Gail.
"Good lord, Harry," said Gail, eyes wide at the evident destruction around them and Hermione's bruised, bleeding and battered appearance. "What the hell happened here?"
"A lot of things are still fuzzy," he said wearily.
"It was terrifying," said Ron, eyes still somewhat wide with disbelief. "There was all this magic, like the entire house was going to explode with it. I thought-I thought Hermione-I thought something really bad was going to happen!"
Harry massaged the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. It might as well be said. "We thought she was going to die."
There was a brief silence after he said it.
"Did you catch Lysander then?" asked Remus a moment later.
Harry nodded, taking the book from his robes and waving it a bit. "He's in here."
Ron stepped away from him, his eyes watching the book closely.
Gail and Remus exchanged questioning looks.
"Like Tom Riddle's diary?" asked Remus.
Harry shook his head. "No. That was a horcrux. This is… containment. He's inside this book. Hermione put him in it."
Gail looked nonplussed. "Well, that sounds like a really wicked spell."
"It's Elven magic," said Harry. "It's not something they teach at Hogwarts."
Remus frowned. "Elven?"
Harry didn't think they were going to get anywhere with him explaining all of it. He hardly knew anything about it himself. The only person who knew exactly what had happened was Hermione, and he just wanted her to get better first.
He looked around. "Do you happen to know where Luna Lovegood is?"
"Left her downstairs," muttered Ron. "Driving Tonks batty."
"Battier," said Gail.
Remus scolded her mildly with a slanted look and Gail rolled her eyes.
"Luna knows more than any of us do," said Harry. "She's the one who told us what Lysander is."
"Well, what is he, then?" asked Remus.
Harry saw that he would have to answer some questions. "An Elf."
Remus and Gail's eyebrows arched at the same time.
"A Nordic Elf," added Harry.
"There are kinds?" asked Gail.
"Well, of course there are," said Ron. "If there was just one kind then we wouldn't call House Elves House Elves. We'd just call them plain Elves."
Harry couldn't believe Ron remembered that from their conversation in the taxi with Luna.
Ron scowled. "Well, she's right, ain't she? Makes perfect sense!"
"Anyway," said Harry. "He's been trying all this time to turn Hermione into his human familiar. Luna told us some details and I can't recall most of it, but that's the gist. Hermione fought Lysander back and she had to put him in this book. I promised her I wouldn't let anyone get their hands on it until she can tell us all about it."
"Uncanny," said Remus, almost in a whisper.
Harry couldn't agree more. "We can let Luna explain some or we can wait for Hermione to wake up and have her explain it all herself."
Remus's eyebrows furrowed. "Where does Luna fall in all this?"
It took a while for Harry to realize that Remus should have known, and that Luna had performed a memory spell on him too.
"She was our Unspeakable," said Harry, watching for Remus's reaction.
Predictably enough, Remus's eyes widened in disbelief.
"Hang on," said Gail. "What do you mean she was your Unspeakable? How come you and Remus get one while I don't?"
Remus gestured placatingly at her. "It's not exactly Standard Issue, Gail. I'm surprised Luna didn't dedisco the memory of her off Harry and Ron already. Unspeakables like her have a strict code of secrecy."
Ron frowned. "Will she get in trouble?"
Harry arched his eyebrow at Ron but said nothing, wanting to know the answer, himself.
"I'm not very sure," said Remus. "The Unspeakables like to keep mum about their departmental policies, if you'll pardon the pun. They don't make it a habit announcing who they are to the world, either. I don't know how this will affect Luna."
Luna emerged from the door with Tonks behind her. Luna made straight for Ron while Tonks looked around at the carnage; broken glass, envelopes everywhere, unintelligible runes, sprays of blood, scattered materials and Hermione lying in stasis in the background.
"Good gracious!" Tonks cried. "Tell me Hermione is going to be alright!"
The surprising part was, Harry was pretty sure Hermione would be. She certainly had a lot enough to say before the medi-wizards took her. She sounded disgruntled that Lysander had hurt her at all.
"… and they were talking in this really weird language, you know?" Ron was telling Luna.
"Elvish," said Luna. "Likely Elvish. It sounds like a song, doesn't it? Very breathy. Very sensual."
Ron rolled his eyes. "It didn't feel particularly sensual at that moment, you understand. There was blood and magic everywhere."
Luna looked to the waning moon. "Typical Elven ritual: Blood, magic and lots of talk!"
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A/N: Of course that's not the last of it. There are three more chapters to come to wrap this mess up! But it's done, isn't it? It's Ron and Hermione. ::sick, twisted laugh:: Just kidding! Harmony all the way. ^_^