AN: Realized I'd forgotten a disclaimer. The characters in this and the previous chapters are not mine. Neither infringement nor profit is among my objectives.
Resistance
Chapter Nineteen: Passages
Harry and Hermione floated in silence for a moment that seemed to last forever, looking with trepidation down the length of the tunnel, which seemed to twist downward into utter blackness once it escaped the bluish light of Hermione's wand. Ron lolled between them, his bubble occasionally ricocheting off of one of theirs. Harry turned and looked behind them. The wand gave off just enough light to disclose a tightly packed network of rocks blocking the portion of the tunnel that presumably led back to the school.
"Hermione?" Harry spoke presently, causing Hermione to jump slightly. "D'you reckon - is there anything we should do for Ron?" Hermione brought her wand closer to Ron, and studied his pale face closely. She shook her head, and the light reflected off of her charm and obscured her features.
"It looks like his injuries have stopped bleeding," she said with a sigh. "I'm don't know how a healing charm would - " she stopped and shrugged. "I guess it's worth a try, at least." She murmured the incantation under her breath, and a small chain of pinkish bubbles issued from her wand, colliding with the angry red weal on Ron's arm and vanishing with a soundless pop when they touched his skin. It was difficult to discern for certain, but the livid nature of the wound seemed to have eased somewhat. She quickly performed the charm on his other injuries as well. "He still needs to see Madam Pomfrey as quickly as possible," she said to Harry, her brow creased with anxiety.
"What about … his leg?" Harry said hesitantly, and when Hermione looked down, she felt her gorge rise at the sight of Ron's leg, floating serenely out of sync with the rest of his body.
"Grab it," she ordered, and then rolled her eyes at his look. "Honestly, Harry, you're going to have to hold it still, while I fuse the bone. He's not going to feel it; he's unconscious." This proved more difficult than it originally appeared because there was nothing to brace against, but they finally did the job to Hermione's satisfaction. At least, his leg isn't bobbing around, bent the wrong way, she thought, eying her handiwork critically.
Harry's eyes went down to the dark length of the tunnel that stretched before them. All sounds from outside had faded, and Hermione hoped that meant that Remus, Tonks, and Seamus had gotten safely away. When she looked up, Harry was staring at her, and when their eyes met, he inclined his head in the direction of the tunnel, as if to say, might as well give it a go. Sharing the burden of Ron between them, they began to swim.
The tunnel was mostly featureless, merely rounded smooth walls of hard packed muck. They passed occasional tendrils of root, but didn't know whether they came from land or water plants. Hermione's wand illuminated only the area immediately surrounding them, what was behind them and what awaited them remaining shrouded in inky blackness. Their path curved slightly, first one way and then the other, but appeared to be continuing largely south, as best Hermione could tell, roughly following the shoreline of the lake away from Hogwarts.
It was impossible to gauge how much time and distance had passed in the dark and unchanging environment in which they found themselves. The silence between them was heavy and fraught with anxiety and not a little fear. Ron's face appeared eerily pale in the otherworldly light of the wand, and Hermione found her eyes going back to him quite frequently, hoping that he was going to be all right.
Finally, she could continue on no longer without a break, and stopped her forward motion, holding Ron steady with her weaker left arm, to stretch the kinks out of her right arm. Even the slight burden of Ron underwater was taking its toll, a small but steady backward pull for them to fight against. Harry looked at her with some alarm.
"Hermione, are you okay?" He seemed to have just remembered that she had injuries that were newly healed, and she could see the hints of self-castigation that began to swirl in his eyes.
"I'm fine, Harry," she told him gently, but firmly. "I'm just a little stiff."
"I can bring him along," he said. "You shouldn't wear yourself out." She speared him with a chiding look.
"Nonsense," she sniffed. "We'll try this: Mobilicorpus," she intoned, pointing her wand at Ron. A white stream shot from her wand, slowing as it reached Ron's floating body so that they could almost see the individual bubbles, which split on contact with Ron, moving around and beneath him. Cautiously, Harry let go of Ron, and found that he bobbed serenely in place, cushioned and surrounding by a myriad of bubbles. He threw an admiring look at her, but she merely said in a matter-of-fact way, "Excellent. Now all we have to do is steer him."
~~**~~
Slowly, so subtly as to barely be noticeable, the floor began to slope upward beneath them. Before they had gone too much farther, the water level dropped, and they were able first to paddle with their heads above water, and then to walk. Finally they reached a place where the tunnel rose out of the water altogether, and Hermione allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief, as her wobbly legs folded under her and she collapsed on solid ground. She banished their Bubble-head charms from her recumbent position.
"If you thought the Second Task turned me off of water, you haven't seen anything yet," she said to Harry, only half-joking, as he carefully deposited Ron nearby. He smiled at her comment, but there was concern behind his eyes.
"How far do you suppose we've come?" he asked, keeping his voice low and his wand in hand, even though they'd had no evidence that anyone had frequented this tunnel since the cave-in - or possibly even before that.
"I have no idea," Hermione admitted helplessly. "Surely, we should be coming to the southern edge of the lake by now. That may be why we've come up out of the water." She allowed herself to lie slumped against the damp wall for a moment longer, and then straightened, methodically casting Drying charms on all three of them, and moving closer to Ron to check his injuries.
"We should try to wake him up," Harry said. "We'll cover more ground if one of us isn't having to Levitate him."
"We don't know that there's any kind of threat down here," Hermione argued. "It would appear that no one's been down here in ages. If we make him walk, he could aggravate his injuries."
"We don't know that there's not a threat down here. We don't know where this tunnel empties. Need I remind you that my magic is not necessarily something you want to rely on as backup?" She flinched a little at his tone, and she saw apology flash in his eyes very briefly. He pressed his lips together, as if steeling himself for a difficult decision. "We need his wand. Wake him up." She bristled at his peremptory voice, but acquiesced with a muttered,
"I think this is a mistake," before tapping Ron with her wand and saying, "Enervate." They both hovered over him for a heart-stopping moment, before Ron groaned, stirred, and opened his eyes, blinking against the harsh light of Hermione's wand. He looked at the two of them, tried to sit up, and then winced, reflexively placing a hand against his side.
"What the hell happened?" he asked in confusion, his forehead wrinkling as memory returned to him slowly. "The grindylows - they came out of nowhere. Where is Seamus? Tonks? Where are they?" Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, looking grim.
"We hope that they got back to the cave safely. Remus had Tonks' medallion," Hermione finally said.
"Then where are we?" Ron asked, peering dubiously around the tunnel, his eyes lighting uncomfortably on the unnervingly placid, dark water from which they had just emerged, as though he thought something might come up out of it after them. Harry and Hermione quickly gave him a summary of how they'd ended up in the very tunnel that they'd been attempting to locate. "Well, that's a fair bit of luck, then," he said, beginning to sound more optimistic.
"If the tunnel doesn't open out into some sort of Death Eater conclave," Harry muttered darkly, causing Ron to look at him in alarm. Hermione shot Harry a look, and then tucked one arm under Ron's elbow, asking him,
"Do you think you can stand?" Ron nodded gamely, and together the three of them struggled to get him to his feet. There were a couple of gashes that Hermione had missed beneath his clothing, and she healed these with feigned nonchalance, her fingers skimming lightly over his skin, while Ron flushed red.
"Damn grindylows," was all he said, but his stance eased slightly as Hermione completed the healing charms.
"Can you walk?" Harry asked gruffly. Hermione pursed her lips together, but said nothing, and busied herself returning their transfigured flippers back to their original footwear.
"Yeah," Ron said experimentally, taking a few steps, and then answering with more confidence, "Yeah, I'll be all right." Hermione noticed that his hand went back to his side, and stayed there, but he walked without too much faltering, so she let it go.
~~**~~
They walked on, still silent, afraid that any conversation could carry to some undiscovered, unfriendly ears. Hermione noticed that the walls of the tunnel became drier, the earth packing them became more crumbly, and more than once she thought she saw something skitter about out of the corner of her eye.
She decided not to mention it to Ron.
She and Harry had walked side by side for awhile, knuckles brushing casually now and again. Occasionally the wandlight would catch the metal of one of their rings, and it would draw her attention. My husband, she thought, marveling. Harry is my husband.
If Voldemort didn't have enough of an excuse to want to kill her before, he certainly did now, was her rather philosophic way of thinking about it. She decided not to mention that to Harry.
As they continued down the tunnel, there were subtle changes. The floor was smoother, steeper angles were navigated with a smooth flagstone stair or two. Harry grew increasingly nervous at these intermittent signs of human trespass, and moved more quickly, though quietly, keeping close to the sloping tunnel walls.
Hermione was started to lag. The muscles of her shoulder were screaming at her, and her water-proofed bandages were stiff and beginning to chafe. Ron had slowed as well, and was struggling to keep in step with her, one hand at his side. He was beginning to limp quite noticeably, and his breath was coming in noisy gasps, as he tried to walk normally.
"Ron!" Hermione burst out in a low voice nonetheless tinged with exasperation. She came to an abrupt stop, twisting and turning her head to work out the ache in her neck and shoulder, wincing as one of the muscles pulled painfully. He stopped and turned, pivoting on the leg he was trying to favor and letting out a harsh groan that he tried to mask as the word,
"What?"
"How's your leg?"
"Hurts a bit, actually," he replied, trying to sound diffident, and she looked at him apologetically, while also appearing frustrated with herself.
"Remus tried to Summon you, while you were under an Anchoring charm," she confessed, and flinched when Ron shuddered at the thought. "Bone fusing charms are a little tricky to cast when you're under water. Shall I try again?"
"No, it just aches. I think I'll be all right." Hermione eyed him for a moment, trying to figure out if he was telling the truth, or just didn't want her mucking about with his leg again. Harry had noticed that they were no longer following, and had turned back toward them, retracing his steps.
"I'm sorry," he apologized, as he approached. "Do you need to stop?" Something caught his eye, and he moved abruptly into the shadows near the opposite wall, kneeling down to examine something carefully.
A moment later, he stood and moved into Hermione's circle of wandlight, holding something long and tapered in his fingers.
"That looks like a torch sconce," Hermione observed. Harry's eyes grew grim, and he turned back toward the direction in which they'd been heading.
"Then someone's been down here," he observed.
"Harry, look at the dirt caked on that thing. It's been down here for ages."
"Remus said that the Marauders never found the other end of the tunnel."
"So maybe it wasn't the Marauders," Hermione suggested easily. At Harry and Ron's dubious looks, she said, "What? It doesn't mean that it was someone with nefarious intent."
"This is Harry we're dealing with here… of course it does," Ron said glibly, and Harry gave him a dirty look.
"We'll have to slow the pace a bit, Harry," Hermione said. "I'm knackered, and Ron's leg - well, apparently I'm not as handy with bone fusing charms as I'd like." She sounded stricken.
"Hermione, for the love of Merlin, I told you it was fine!" Ron burst out, annoyed.
"Can you two please keep your voices down?" Harry pleaded in an urgent whisper. "We don't know - "
"Harry, there hasn't been a living soul, Dark or otherwise, down here for ages," Hermione argued. "That sconce had to be more than a decade old, maybe two."
"I'm just saying that - that in one way or another we're all walking wounded here, and we need to be careful." Something in his words brought to their minds not just their physical state, but their tenuous emotional connection as well, and the three of them fell silent. Hermione's gaze bounced off of Ron's uncomfortable expression, and collided with Harry's, whose worry for them seemed to be battling with fierce determination and not a little shame that he was not adept enough to keep them safe.
"Perhaps you're right, Harry," Hermione said quietly, surprising the two boys. "Let's try to move more quickly and more quietly." Ron pushed himself away from the wall of the tunnel, brushing a little dirt from his shoulder.
"Well then," he said laconically. "Let's just - " As he spoke, he took a step forward, and his leg just buckled beneath him. Harry and Hermione watched in horror, as he folded up like an accordion, almost succeeding in biting back a hoarse cry of pain.
"Oh, Merlin, Ron!" Hermione said, thinking frantically as she rushed to kneel beside him. We studied this in our field medicine courses; how could I be such rubbish at such an important charm right now when we need it so much; how could I hurt him - it's all my fault… it - Her racing thoughts were stilled at the gentle touch of a hand on her arm.
Harry.
He had knelt beside her in the dirt of the tunnel, and was looking at her as if he knew exactly the direction her thoughts were running.
"It's not your fault, Hermione. We were under water. Take a deep breath, calm down, and check his leg. If we need to, we can recast the charm." She stared at him blankly for a moment, and then inhaled deeply, as he instructed, her teeth clattering together a little with the trembling of her jaw.
"Ron, you all right?" she heard Harry ask solicitously.
"B - bugger!" Ron finally swore, his voice a ghost of its normal self, little more than a wheeze. When Hermione dared to look down at him, his face was frighteningly pale and beads of sweat stood out on his forehead and upper lip.
"Ron, I'm so sorry," she said, looking at him with agonized eyes, her hands clasped together, as if in supplication. Harry handed her her wand, picking it up from where she'd dropped it in her worry.
"'Sall right," Ron said, a wraith-like smile flickering across his face briefly. She looked at Harry hesitantly, her self-confidence clearly rattled.
"You'll do fine," Harry said, as if willing it to be so, nearly drilling into her with the intensity of his gaze. She undid the fusing charm, and winced at the crackle as Ron's bone essentially re-broke. Ron hissed a sort of nnggg sound between his teeth.
"We should Stun him," she said in a wooden voice. Harry raised his wand, but Ron interrupted.
"No! Just - just do it, quickly," he said, his voice not much more than a gasp. She threw one last beseeching look at his gray face, and reached down to straighten his leg, where it had folded beneath his when he fell. Ron's back arched and the veins stood out in his neck, as he fought to stay silent. A thin trickle of blood came from the corner of his mouth as he clamped down on his lip with his teeth. His fingers curved into claws and delved into the earthen floor of the tunnel, leaving jagged furrows in their wake. She and Harry both cupped the bottom of his shoe, holding his leg straight and steady, as she said the incantation. The area just above his ankle glowed a translucent, pulsing pink for a moment, as Ron tensed again, noisily inhaling and exhaling a long breath through his nose.
"Are - are you all right?" Hermione asked, her voice high and tremulous, sounding not at all like herself. Ron lifted one trembling hand to dash sweat-soaked bangs out of his eyes.
"Bloody hell," he managed to gasp.
"You stupid prat!" Hermione said, but her chastising tone quickly changed into a worried one. "Ron, no! Wait a moment before getting up please." He was already struggling into a sitting position. She ascertained that he was all right, and went back to her previous tirade. "Arrogant git! Why didn't you let me Stun you?"
"Because of that," Ron said succinctly, reclining back on his elbows and pointing at the ceiling of the tunnel, something at which he'd had a perfect look, while lying prostrate on the ground. Harry and Hermione's gazes followed his finger in almost perfect unison.
Etched onto the ceiling, obviously done by finely-honed wandfire, was the Dark Mark.
~~**~~
Hermione felt her mouth grow dry, and Harry swore softly under his breath, as they both slowly stood, gripping their wands and still watching the ceiling. She saw movement out of the corner of her eye, and noted that Ron had come the rest of the way to his feet. He was standing crookedly, heavily favoring his leg.
"We've got to get out of here," Harry said in a throaty whisper.
"Harry, wait," Hermione interrupted him firmly, laying a calming hand on his sleeve. "Look how faded the etching is. It's been there for - for probably as long as the sconce. Hang on." She brought one hand up to her mouth, her eyes focused inward intently, furiously thinking. Finally, she looked up, raised her wand to the Mark on the wall, and said, "Tempus orti." The beam from her wand hit the etching and the entire thing glowed blue. "Hand me the sconce." Harry had to look for it, finally finding it where he'd dropped it when Ron collapsed and handing it off. Hermione repeated the spell on the sconce, and it also glowed blue.
"Well," she said, tossing the sconce back toward the wall of the tunnel. "It's not as definitive as someone skilled in archaeology spells could come up with, but it will suffice. If either were new, they would have glowed red. Blue means they're at least a decade old, and could be as much as a half-century old." Both boys gaped at her, and she added, a little defensively, "It's the best I could come up with."
"Brilliant, as always, Hermione," Ron said reluctantly, oddly sounding a little wistful.
"I don't like the fact that Death Eaters were ever down here at all," Harry said, his eyes straining to pierce the darkness that lurked beyond their wandlight. "I don't care if it was 2 days ago or 20 years ago."
"But it makes sense," Hermione said thoughtfully, chewing on her lower lip. "This tunnel runs from Hogwarts dungeons, and that's where - "
"Slytherin is," Harry and Ron answered in perfect grim unison.
"The cave-in must have ruined everything," Harry continued. "Think about how many Death Eaters-in-training must have snuck out of Hogwarts for their little meetings."
"And if it's the only passage the Slytherins knew about," Hermione mused, "it explains why Malfoy had to use those Vanishing cabinets to let the Death Eaters in, sixth year."
"Slytherins always did have their heads stuck up their own arses," Ron grumbled, obviously thinking of the myriad of secret pathways found on the Marauder's Map. They began to walk, keeping by unspoken consent to the shadows of the curving walls, speaking in hushed tones.
"The question is whether or not the Death Eaters still use it," Harry pointed out, his eyes going to the lurking darkness ahead of their light.
"Why would they?" Ron asked. "It doesn't go anywhere."
"The rocks in the cave-in haven't been moved, that much is obvious," Hermione agreed in her most logical voice.
"So?" Harry countered. "The tunnel entrance is obviously concealed well, or the Marauders would have found it. It's far enough from Hogwarts to not attract attention. Why not continue to use it as some kind of meeting place?" As he finished his statement, something crunched beneath the sole of his shoe. All three jumped, and Harry cautiously lifted his foot to see what he'd stepped on. He knelt to brush the dirt away, carefully exposing the fragments, and could see the silvery sheen of the remnants of a sticking charm.
"It's a badge," Hermione breathed. Harry lifted it carefully, and the silver backing flaked off into to the dirt, as he turned it over. The top was mostly intact, and proclaimed Italia! across the top. In the center was a faded Quidditch logo that looked like a broom superimposed over an eagle and a Roman gladius. The bottom had caught the brunt of Harry's heel and was crushed into near oblivion. It said "World Cup 199 -". The last digit was gone, but the Trio exchanged anxious glances, as they tried to digest what exactly that badge would mean. Ron swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly in his throat, and Hermione watched him readjust his grip on his wand.
"Care to … re-evaluate your hypothesis, Hermione?" Harry asked hoarsely, but in a voice of worry rather than recrimination.
"Maybe…maybe since they've got Hogwarts, they don't need this place anymore," Ron suggested hopefully. Harry stood up, tilting his open palm so that the pieces fell back to the earth with a soft tinkle, the word Italia fragmenting on impact. He took a deep breath, as he looked at his two best friends.
"Maybe we should Disillusion ourselves," he suggested heavily, and Hermione felt herself nodding, as Ron readily agreed. To her surprise, Harry attempted to do the charm on himself, and did a creditable job, though Hermione had to touch it up a bit. She could by his faint outline, seen only because she knew where he was standing, that he was not pleased with the outcome, probably thinking that there wouldn't be anyone to "tweak" his hexes in battle.
They proceeded cautiously down the tunnel, Harry and Hermione moving along one wall, and Ron in the arching shadow of the other. Every now and then, they would pause, hovering, waiting, listening. The darkness ahead of them - they couldn't risk movement without wandlight - seemed to surge and ebb; it seemed to whisper and mock, taunting them, as if it knew what lay ahead and they did not. Hermione felt fingers of fear shiver up her back. There were no sounds save for the soft pad of their footfalls on the tunnel floor.
Hermione felt her pace slowing again, and she felt irritation at herself, at her own weakness. Ron and Harry were a couple of paces ahead of her, on opposite walls, and even if the situation hadn't been so inherently tense, she didn't think that they would have been talking There was still much to be worked through, especially for Ron, though it held true for all three of them. Hermione thought that it was almost nice to be working as a team again, focusing on outcome, rather than emotional strain. She hesitated to rub at her shoulder, which seemed to be knotting up tighter than ever, while Ron and Harry continued on, unaware that she had lagged behind. They had only gone a step or two when Hermione started, having seen a sort of shimmer ahead, like distant lightning or perhaps Muggle camera flash. She opened her mouth to call out a warning, and just that quickly, before she could even force sound between her lips…
They were gone.
She stood motionless in the tunnel for the space of a heartbeat or two, her mouth hanging open. She was still Disillusioned, still held her lit wand in one fist, and she was utterly alone. She felt a tremble run rampantly over her body, and her eyes filled up with tears, blurring her vision.
Stop, stop, stop, stop it, Hermione! She ordered herself sternly, stubbornly blinking back tears. Pull yourself together. What exactly happened? What did you see? She paused, putting one foot carefully in front of the other, almost heel to toe, edging more closely to the area where they'd vanished. Something shimmered, and then they disappeared. There had been a faint noise, a momentary low-level buzz, like the hum of electric current. Current? Not possible, she mused, but her eyes went to the periphery of the tunnel anyway, carefully scanning the walls, ceiling, and floor. Heel-toe, she moved a little closer, the silence pressing in on her, trying her best to suppress the panic that wanted to surge over her and overwhelm her.
Then she saw it.
There was a small metallic looking box, affixed to the wall, perhaps about ankle high. They might have passed by it without seeing it at all. It did not appear to be a Muggle device, and didn't seemed to be connected to any wiring or plugs. A small green indicator blinked serenely, and another indicator, possibly red or black, was unlit. She tapped it experimentally with her wand, and it vibrated slightly. Sticking charm, she ascertained. Well, that's one question answered. She considered dismantling it or turning it off, but didn't want to risk losing Harry and Ron forever to… wherever they'd gone.
She slid forward another pace, and slowly extended her arm, so slowly that she could practically feel each muscle fiber stretching. With one arm out, she continued to move, almost infinitesimally, and then she felt a thrum of power, the faint buzz reaching her ears again. It was harder to see with a Disillusionment charm active, but she was able to tell that her arm was no longer visible past her wrist. She jerked her gaze back over her shoulder to see that the green indicator had ceased blinking and was now solidly lit.
She pulled her arm back and heard the crackle again. She held her arm up and examined the limb closely; it appeared to be unscathed. Another glance back at the metal box told her that the green light had resumed its intermittent pattern.
What in the world is going on here?
She took a deep breath, as if preparing to plunge under water, and leaned forward, thrusting her head and neck toward the same spot toward which her hand had gone. A low-level hum rippled around her; she felt as if she was piercing some sort of membrane, and then she opened her eyes and looked.
It appeared to be somewhere rather nondescript. The floors and walls were gray stone, dimly illuminated by a light source that flickered somewhere out of her field of vision. There was a hint of damp in the air, and the pungency made her nostrils flare. She seemed to be leaning into a corridor, which vanished out of sight around a corner a few meters away. Directly across from her, there was a weathered wooden door with a heavy metal handle.
Harry and Ron were not in sight. She leaned further forward and listened intently. There were no sounds of conflict or pursuit - no sounds of anything really, save a distant drip of water. She opened her mouth to call Harry's name, but was afraid to make that kind of identifying sound, that could put not only herself, but Harry and Ron in danger.
It had probably only been a minute, perhaps a minute and a half, since they'd disappeared, and it already felt like years. She pulled her head away from the invisible field, and looked forlornly around the silent dimness of the tunnel, which seemed more foreboding now than ever.
Why would anybody put something like this in the middle of a tunnel leading to nowhere anyway? Especially something that sent you to a horrid, damp place that smelled like Potions, and… she stopped suddenly, realizing what she had just said, realizing what she had recognized on a subconscious level… Potions.
The gray stone place was the Hogwarts dungeon, and Hogwarts was crawling with Death Eaters.
~~**~~
She hurtled through the invisible barrier so quickly that she didn't even recognize what she was doing until she had done it. She was standing in the lonely looking corridor that she had glimpsed earlier. In somewhat of a frenzy, she turned back to see where she had come, and saw only blank, gray stone.
It was a blind corridor that went nowhere. She wasn't exactly sure what she'd been planning on doing next - (where the hell are Harry and Ron?) - but all thought of fight or flight fled when she saw the metal box gleaming on the adjacent wall, green light blinking placidly. Keeping one wary eye on the corner ahead, half-expecting some bloodthirsty Dark wizards in capes to come barreling around it, she reached behind her toward the wall, less than a half-meter away. A triumphant smile crossed her face when she felt the familiar surge run up her arm. The indicator on the small box glowed a vivid solid green.
It's two-way, she thought with relief. Thank Merlin.
She moved cautiously toward the corner, watching the door warily as she did so. The handle was grimy, and the upper corners were festooned with cobwebs, so it didn't appear to have been recently used, but one could never be too careful. Her progress was intermittent; she kept stopping to listen, unable to comprehend the pervasive silence, broken only by the distant dripping.
It's just like those prats to go running off half-cocked. Where the hell - ? That train of thought was derailed abruptly, as the two objects of her wrathful worry suddenly appeared, returning from the other direction around the corner that she was approaching.
"Hermione!" Harry hissed, speaking in a loud whisper. "This is Hogwarts!"
"I know it is, you idiot," she responded in kind. "You nearly gave me a coronary. Why on earth would you go running off like that?"
"Keep your shirt on, Hermione," Ron said, in just the right sort of tone to annoy her further. "We were seeing if we could get to the secret passage down here, but there are a couple of guards down by the Potions classroom. We figured it would be wisest to get out of here quickly."
"Did you ever think to try to go back the way you came?" was her scathing retort. The boys looked shamefaced.
"But, there's nothing there…" Ron tried feebly, gesturing toward the featureless wall.
"That is powering what brought us here," Hermione said succinctly, pointing at the box with its blinking green light. "It works both ways. I checked. They've made some kind of stationary automatic portkey."
"You figured that out in two minutes?" Ron's voice was incredulous and frankly admiring, and Hermione let a small smile of triumph briefly light her face.
"But we can't go back," Harry protested. "We can't go any further down the tunnel; we'll just end up back here, or we'll have to turn around and go back to the lake." Hermione saw Ron's face pale at the thought of facing a frenzy of grindylows again.
"Better grindylows than Death Eaters," the lanky redhead managed to say.
"I think we can turn it off. See that other light?" Hermione pointed toward the box with her wand. "I'd say that it probably comes on when the field is not active."
"So when the light is red, I could go over and touch that wall, rather than be transported back to the tunnel?" Harry posited. "And if we deactivate the one in the tunnel, we can keep going, rather than end up here?"
"I think so," Hermione said earnestly, nodding. Her thin outline rippled like the surface of a pond being disturbed by a thrown pebble.
"Let's go then," Harry said heavily. They turned toward the empty wall, and were heading for the invisible field that would take them back to the tunnel, when they heard it.
"H - Harry? Hermione? Is that you?" The voice was faint, hoarse and raspy with disuse, and was coming from the battered wooden door directly opposite. Hermione did not have to have a clear view of the boys' faces to know that their expressions mirrored her own.
"Sweet Merlin," Ron exclaimed under his breath.
"Neville?" Harry wondered.
"Harry, we should go," Hermione said urgently, pulling on his sleeve.
"We can't leave him here!" Harry said in an appalled voice, and Hermione felt a little ashamed. She couldn't help thinking, If we get caught and Harry dies, I'll be lost - we'll all be lost. Almost immediately on the heels of that thought came one in Harry's voice, Sentiment is what keeps us from being Death Eaters. It was a conflict that she wasn't sure she had the wherewithal to resolve.
"There could be wards up…" she whispered faintly. "If they find us…"
"She does have a point, you know," Ron put in.
"If they find us, we'll still be only a few meters away from an escape route," Harry said emphatically, sweeping his arm back toward the dead end. "Once we're through, we can destroy it, and they'll be cut off."
"You think they won't head for that tunnel with best possible speed?"
"Then we'll just have to hurry, won't we?" Harry responded icily. Without waiting for another answer, he strode to the door, and placed both palms on it. He appeared to be listening intently, and Hermione wondered if he was trying to sense the magic emanating from it, as Dumbledore had when they went looking for the locket horcrux. After a moment, he turned back toward them, "I think there's a ward up, but I'm not sure." His voice sounded apologetic and frustrated, his newly emerging magic evidently still moving too slowly for him. "Can you dismantle it?" he directed this question at Hermione.
"Blind?" Hermione sounded worried. Their ward detectors were back at the cave. "I don't know if it's a detection ward, or a occupancy ward, or - "
"Hermione, just try!" Harry's voice was rough. "There's not a lot of time." Anger licked at her like rising tongues of flame. How can he be so cavalier about his life? She thought with irritation, noting that Ron had sidled toward the next corner, intent on watching for approaching Death Eaters. She furrowed her brow, and turned her concentration toward the door.
After a moment that seemed to last a lifetime, she had undone the ward, and a soft,
"Alohamora," opened the door. Her eyes strained to adjust to the dimness, as she peered into the shadowy depths. "Neville?" she called out, hesitantly.
"Hermione?" cracked the voice again. "Oh, Merlin, is it really you?" She could just make out an uneven lump hunched against one of the walls. It was intolerably damp; there were even a few puddles on the floor, and moisture dripped from the walls. A small clump of something similar to her bluebell flames hovered in an upper corner, providing the only light in the room, which wasn't much. The smell was horrific. She tapped herself on her head with her wand, allowing the Disillusionment to flicker briefly, so that he could see her.
"'Sme, Neville. Are you tied up?" she asked.
"No, I'm - I'm okay," he faltered, and the shape moved, as he tried to stand, hampered by a sudden racking cough.
"Wait!" Harry's voice rang out suddenly, seeming overloud in the oppressive quiet. "How do we know it's Neville?"
"Harry, we saw him on the Map," Hermione said, speaking calmly. She remembered feeling this way the last times she was in a cell under Voldemort's control. Hurry, hurry, hurry.
"Who Petrified you during second year?" Harry asked abruptly. Neville had shuffled closer to the door, and in the slightly less dim light from the corridor, they could see that he was in terrible condition, not from torture or the like, but seemingly from neglect. His hair hung in his eyes, limp and greasy, and his clothes were caked in dirt. There was a distinct stench to him, and Hermione could not help but recoil slightly, though she tried to cover it up.
"It was first year, and Hermione did," Neville answered, looking clearly toward Harry, without hesitation.
"What kind of plant did you have - that you used to talk to like it was a pet?" he pressed.
"Harry, we don't have time for this!" Hermione hissed shrilly. Neville cracked a wan smile.
"The one that exploded all over you on the Hogwarts Express?" he queried. "That was a Mimbulus Mimbletonia." Hermione was impatiently cutting her eyes back and forth between Harry and Neville.
"Are you quite finished?" she asked snippily. "Take Neville and go on, Harry. I'll be right behind you."
"Like hell I will," Harry declared, looking incensed. Hermione's lips thinned, but she betrayed no other sign of ire.
"Harry, do you not understand that you absolutely cannot be caught here? I'm going to transfigure something to resemble Neville. Maybe it'll be awhile before they realize he's not here. I'll be right behind you," she over-enunciated the last sentence. "Now, go." She sort of shoved Neville towards Harry, so that he was forced to support the emaciated and ill-looking boy, who, due to the Disillusionment, could barely see who was helping him stand.
As they emerged from the cell, with Neville blinking against the light, Harry looked anxiously toward the exposure of the hallway. Ron could barely be made out in the flickering light at the far corner, keeping watch. When he saw Neville emerge and pause, assuming that Harry was questioning whether it was safe, he motioned with his head for them to go on.
"Where are we going?" Hermione heard Neville ask in bewilderment, as he and Harry headed down a dead-end corridor. She turned back to Neville's cell, her heart pounding in her ears, and her hands trembling so badly that she thought she might drop her wand. She knew that if any of them were found down here, it would go very, very badly. Quickly, she forced her mind to the task at hand, and surveyed the contents of the cell. A rusted bedstead stood in a corner, with a tattered, stained mattress and a moth-eaten old blanket tossed carelessly atop it. A bucket stood at the farthest point in the cell, near a pile of moldy straw. The air was chill and moist, and the smell was nearly overpowering. Hermione felt her eyes water.
She marched over to the bed, and crumpled the threadbare blanket into a wadded ball, holding it tightly in one hand, and pointing her wand at it with the other.
"Homo simulo," she said carefully, and tossed the blanket onto the bed. Before it landed, it had morphed into the vague shape of a human body, curled up in sleep. She waved her wand, adding a sloppy thatch of dark hair where the head would be, and adding shadow and dull color to resemble clothing. The original color of Neville's clothes had been impossible to discern beneath the grime, and she figure that the Death Eaters probably hadn't noticed either. Carefully, she walked to the doorway to survey her handiwork, and then shook her head. It needs to be covered, and I've just used the blanket. Trying to force her movements to stay calm and efficient, she turned her wand on her sleeve, using a quiet diffindo to separate it from the main body of the garment.
"Hermione, we should go. I think I hear voices," came Ron's own low voice, anxiously from the doorway.
"You think you hear voices?" she retorted acerbically, nerves making her voice sharper than it would have been normally.
"There's water running somewhere, and it's hard to be sure, but - but we've been here long enough and - "
"Give me one more second. Why don't you go on?"
"Not likely," Ron snorted. "Let's go." She saw the air ripple vaguely, as he leaned against the doorway, and she sniffed disdainfully.
"Prat," she muttered under her breath, before saying, "Engorgio," while directing her wand at her sleeve. The sleeve swelled out until it was the size of a small area rug.
"Hermione!" Ron's voice sounded panicky, and Hermione paused. She could hear them too, an indistinct murmur, partially obscured by the dripping water. She hastily spread the blanket out over the Neville-shape, and followed Ron out of the door, shutting it quietly behind her. The voices were nearer now, much nearer, and Hermione thought she could see their shadows preceding them on the wall; they would be around the corner soon, and she wasn't sure their Disillusion would be enough to completely conceal them if they were seen in the middle of an open hallway.
Hermione and Ron plunged toward the blind corridor, moving quietly, but as fast as they dared. Ron's breath seemed to puff very loudly from his nostrils, and she could tell that he was in pain. They were about halfway to their goal, when Hermione stopped suddenly, alarm flooding her. She looked wide-eyed at Ron, and mouthed the words,
"I didn't lock the door!" Ron shook his head furiously. It doesn't matter now. She mimed pushing him towards the field, and inclined her head back toward the door. I'll lock it. They can't know anyone was down here. Go on.
Ron actually opened his mouth to argue with her, and she shoved him with the flats of both hands, as hard as she could, hoping he wouldn't further injure his leg, as he careened through the field, and vanished with a barely discernible crackle. She darted back to the junction of the two hallways, and peered slowly around the concealing corner.
Two Death Eaters stood just out of sight around the far corner. She could see the hem of one's robes, and she could hear two low voices.
" … we gotta come down `ere anyways?" one was whining. "There ain't anyone unauthorized down `ere, and no ways to get anywhere either."
"The Dark Lord says to check on the prisoner, we check on the prisoner," the second one said lazily. His voice was more carefully modulated, and sounded more educated than the first.
"Damn cold down here… and wet. The Dark Lord di'nt say to, bloody Lucius Malfoy said to, an' I don't see why - "
"Hold your tongue, you fool," the second one hushed him. Hermione swallowed painfully, and aimed her wand at the doorway, hoping that they wouldn't notice the spell as it whisked across the hallway.
"The Dark Lord orter just kill `im. Worthless sprog di'nt even put up much of a fight. He ain't worth our trouble," she heard the complaining one say.
"Colloportus," she whispered, barely audibly. The spell hit true, and the resultant squelchy click of the lock sounded impossible loud, and drowned out the first part of what the second Death Eater said.
"… part of Harry Potter's inner circle. The Dark Lord must think that Potter will come after him."
"Djou hear somethin'?" the first man interrupted, and Hermione felt her blood freeze. There was a moment of complete silence, wherein she was absolutely certain that her heart stopped beating.
"Hey!" the first one called out loudly. "Hey, Lon'bottom!" When there was no response, he shouted louder. "Wake up, you pathetic little blood traitor!" Footsteps began to sound, and Hermione knew that at least one of them had to have rounded the first corner. Throwing caution to the wind, she began a lunge toward the field, but then her own healing, fatigued muscles betrayed her. A spasm ran up her back and across her shoulder, her arm folding up towards her body as if it had a life of its own. She curled up, instinctively trying to draw in to relieve the tension, and she fell. She saw the gray stones pass in front of her eyes, as she plummeted downward for what seemed like forever. Her breath left her lungs audibly, when she hit the floor, fearing to catch herself and risk any other unnecessary noise or movement. She lay against the wall, one arm outflung, trying desperately to catch her breath. Her shoulder throbbed.
She had just begun thinking about attempting to rise, when the noisy rattle of a door handle startled her. Not daring to move, she rolled her eyes upward, to see both Death Eaters standing just a meter or two away at Neville's door. The first one had cast Fenestra on the door, and was peering inside.
"'E's sleepin'," the first Death Eater proclaimed. "'Ere now, look lively! You'll have loads o' time to sleep when the Dark Lord puts yer head on a pike!" He took aim with his wand through the clear panel, and looked at the second guard with surprise, when an iron hand closed around his wrist.
"Leave him alone," the second one said. "The state he's in, one curse could kill him. And then Lucius Malfoy would likely kill you… painfully." Hermione's mind raced; Voldemort had some kind of plan for Neville - but what? Her panicked heart rate had slowed some; soon the Death Eaters would be gone back around the corner, and she could get up and go back to the tunnel.
Then, to her horror, the second Death Eater turned down the hallway, passing very close to her. She saw his eyes flicker around the perimeter of the corridor, perhaps looking for the metallic box. She hoped he wouldn't look down, or that she would be concealed in the shadows of his billowing cloak.
He stepped on her fingers. Through his heavy sole, it was unlikely that he'd even noticed that he stepped on anything, but Hermione could feel the tears spring to her eyes, as she heard bone crack. To her, it rang out as loudly as snapping tree limbs, but he did not appear to hear. The pain in her hand was white-hot, and she felt her teeth clamp down on her lip. Do not make a sound. Blood was trickling saltily into her mouth, where she'd bitten her lip.
An instant later, he had moved, kneeling at the end of the corridor, to investigate the metal box. Its green light blinked calmly, and the Death Eater appeared to be pleased. Hermione's vision was blurred from tears, and she tried furiously to get air back into her lungs without gasping out loud.
"Everything's in order here," he said to his companion, who was still waiting by Neville's door, which was once again solid. "Let's go." Their footsteps faded into the distance, until the persistent drip of water was the only sound.
Even that sound was nearly obscured by the roaring in Hermione's ears. She wasn't sure how long she had laid there - though it couldn't have been long, or the others surely would have burst back through the barrier, wands blazing - before she tried to get up, a cumbersome task in itself. Her head swam, as she pulled herself up, using the stones of the wall, leaving her injured hand cradled protectively into the curve of her torso. Every muscle in her body shrieked in protest, and she felt black fingers encroaching on the edge of her vision. She staggered unevenly toward the field.
Five more steps…four more steps… Someone's arm was already her, holding her up. Someone's voice was soothing, telling her that everything was going to be fine. They were lined up with the metallic box now…one more step… She felt the thrum of the field as she passed through it.
~~**~~
The first thing she noticed when she stepped back into the tunnel was that Harry was leaning against one smooth, curved wall, struggling against what looked like invisible bonds. He was red in the face, cursing violently, and clearly furious.
"Let me go, Ron, or I swear by all that's holy that I'll - " Hermione felt Ron's arm drop away from around her, and he pointed his wand at Harry, muttering the counterspell under his breath.
As soon as the binding dropped, Harry sprang at Ron, getting in a couple of good punches before Hermione sent stinging hexes at both of them, sending them scattering in opposite directions.
"Stop it!" she said emphatically, nearly shouting. "What in the name of Merlin is wrong with the two of you?" Neville was watching the scene unfold with wide eyes.
"He tied me up! You weren't back, and he tied me up!" Harry was still spitting mad. Hermione interposed herself carefully between them, trying her best to tamp down the searing pain in her hand. Ron came gingerly to his feet, one hand pressed to the red mark on his jaw. He didn't look any happier with Harry than she was, but there was a strange aura of understanding in his eyes when he looked at his dark-haired best mate.
"He did the right thing!" Hermione challenged. "Either one of us is more expendable than you are."
"Not to me! Hermione, you nearly - " Harry was furious, shaking, as he pulled her closer to him, and looked like he didn't know whether to kiss her or throttle her. He stopped suddenly, looked down at her cupped hand, her swollen fingers, and stated the obvious. "You're hurt."
"Death Eater … stepped on my hand," she said, forcing the words, through the waves of pain that surged up anew, reclaiming her attention. She saw Harry blanch at the thought of Death Eaters being close enough to her to step on her, how near she had come to discovery evidently scaring him to death. Her eyes fell on the metallic box. "We should turn that off. How - how often do patrols come round?" she asked Neville.
"I'm not sure," Neville stammered hesitantly. "They made their presence known once every couple of days, but they could have been coming more often than that. A house elf brought me food and water every other day or so… if they remembered to send him."
"When - when the Death Eaters left, they thought everything was fine. They - they checked on Neville and the metallic box." Hermione closed her eyes, struggling to think straight. "We may have a couple of days, before they figure out something's not right." She swayed visibly on her feet, and felt comforting warmth as Harry put one arm around her shoulders carefully. "If we turn off the box, then when they do come this way, they won't be able to get into the tunnel… they'll have to go the long way round."
"Which means we'll have to get out of here, before they come in," Ron pointed out, gesturing toward the segment of tunnel that they had not yet traversed, and Hermione nodded with difficulty.
"Hermione," Harry's voice intruded into her whirling thoughts, slightly hazy with pain. "Hermione, let me see your hand." She was staring at the wall, where the box was affixed.
"We could make it look like it was damaged in a rock slide, a partial cave-in," she said, slight excitement tingeing her voice. "They might not ever realize we were here at all; they - they might think it was an accident."
"Let me see your hand," Harry said again, and she looked at him with some surprise. He was angry with her, and it was irritating. She held out her hand, extending her finger with difficulty. Three of them were starting to swell badly.
"I don't see what you're so worked up over," she said snippily. "I'm here, aren't I? I got out all right."
"You were close enough to Death Eaters for one of them to step on your hand," Harry said in a tone of disbelief. "You made me leave you there! Ron tied me up! And you were in Hogwarts dungeons with Death Eaters bloody well walking on you!"
"Do you have any idea what would have happened if you'd been caught there?" Hermione shot back, now as angry as he, the throbbing in her hand sublimated beneath her own ire. "Voldemort would have killed you, and it would all be over. Over. Do you understand what that means?"
"Do you really think I don't?" Harry snapped. "If anything happened to you, it would all be over for me anyway. Your life means more to me…than - than anything." Hermione was shaking her head sadly.
"Give me your hand," Ron broke in abruptly. She felt his warm fingers around hers, and faintly felt the aching ebb, as he cast a Suppression spell. There was a rush of cool air to her skin, as she lost her other sleeve, and he used it to splint her fingers tightly together. "I'll let Madam Pomfrey handle the bone fusion charms, unless you want to cast it on yourself. Although, speaking from personal experience, I wouldn't advise it." She registered enough of what he said to cast a suspicious look at him, but he was already stepping away from her, moving a discreet distance away with Neville, so that she and Harry could finish their discussion.
"It can't mean more than anything," Hermione said softly. "Because your life means everything to everybody else. They're counting on you."
"That doesn't mean anyone else should sacrifice themselves for me," he said stubbornly, his eyes flickering with pain, as he thought of his parents, Sirius, Dumbledore, and the countless others who'd died in the first massive day of fighting.
"Yes, it does," she insisted. "If you - if something happened to you, it would mean that everyone who has died so far, died for nothing. If I let something happen to you, it means that I've failed you, failed everyone."
"And we all know that failure is something you've got to avoid at all costs," Harry snapped, rather nastily. Hermione flinched a little, and Harry's eyes softened somewhat.
"It's not the failing part I'm worried about, it's you," Hermione said. "Our job - the Order's job - is to keep you alive until Voldemort is defeated - to do everything we can to facilitate that outcome. You've got to let us do that job."
"They can't ask me to give you up," he said, and his voice cracked. Hermione saw a slight red tint creep into his face, self-consciously.
"There may come a time when you don't have a choice," Hermione said matter-of-factly, her anger forgotten, looking into his anguished green eyes. "Can you deal with that?" There was a long, thick moment, where they just gazed at each other. Somehow his hands had come up to snarl in her hair.
"I - I don't know…" Harry said honestly, in a ragged voice.
"Harry - " There was a pleading note in her voice; she was not happy with his answer.
"I'm - I'm telling you the truth, Hermione…I just don't know. Can we leave it at that for now?"
"As much as I love having a front-row seat to your marital spat, can we please get away from the Death Eaters little secret portal?" Ron's voice cut in. Nobody missed Neville's odd noise at the word `marital', but nobody bothered to explain either. Hermione's eyes slid shut for a moment, and she steeled herself mentally, pushing away her worry and irritation and guilt over Harry, and turning to the task before them.
"Finite incantatem," she said decisively. There was a faint shimmer and crackle, and the light on the little readout turned a dark red.
"Is it off now?" Ron asked, looking dubiously at the metallic box. Harry bent down and tossed a small rock in the direction they'd been originally headed. It landed a few meters away, making a soft clunk on the smooth earthen floor.
"We should go then," Hermione said, after a moment, taking a deep breath. "If they find Neville's missing, they'll check that field first. Or if they see that the light's turned red, they may check on it sooner. And that means they'll come here."
"Are you all right?" Harry interrupted.
"Harry, I'm fine," she said, half-impatiently and half-sympathetically. He cut a strip from the hem of his own shirt, using diffindo as neatly as anyone could, and looped the material around her wrist. He pulled the ends of the fabric over one shoulder, and lifted her hair over the other shoulder so he could tie the makeshift sling at the nape of her neck. Her fingers were cradled up near the opposite collarbone, and the throbbing seemed to ease somewhat. She shivered when she felt his fingers and his breath lightly brush the skin.
"How is that?" he whispered.
"Better," she whispered back, looking over her shoulder at him with limpid eyes.
"I'm sorry for getting upset. I was scared," he admitted softly.
"So was I," she said, very low. It was enough for now. Their lips hovered a hairsbreadth apart, but they slowly moved away from each other, promising later with their eyes.
The little group began to move on down the tunnel, but Hermione turned back to the metallic box, one last time, looking at it longingly. She raised her wand abruptly, as she came to a decision.
"Alohamora," she said, causing the other three to look at her strangely. The tiny catch on the box snapped up, and the front face of it swung open on a hinge. Several spells and charms swirled around inside, in a myriad of pulsating color, though inactivated by Hermione's finite spell. "I need a vial," she cried, and Harry and Ron moved instantly into action, Ron picking up the small stone that Harry had tossed earlier, and Harry transfiguring it into a somewhat misshapen glass jar, complete with stopper.
"Not bad, Harry!" Ron exclaimed, before remembering that things were supposed to be stilted and awkward between them. Hermione dislodged the charms from within the box, and had them hovering, waiting for the jar. When Harry proffered it to her, she neatly directed them inside, sealed it, shrunk it, and handed it back to Harry, who tucked it into his zipped pocket, alongside Dennis Creevey's lost keyfob.
When that was done, Hermione closed the face of the box, lowered the latch into place, and then charmed the red indicator alight. An incantation of Solvare aimed at the box undid one corner of the sticking charm, causing it to hang crookedly. Another loosening charm aimed slightly higher caused dirt to cascade from the wall, piling in a great coned mound to nearly cover the box. It looked as if it had been damaged in a minor slide. Perfect, she thought triumphantly, and it almost made up for her pain and fatigue. With any luck, this would further delay the Death Eaters in any subsequent hunt for them. She looked at her three companions and smiled.
"Let's go," she said.
TBC
I hope you liked this chapter. I had slightly fewer reviews for the last chapter, and I hope I'm not losing too many readers by the story getting so long (or God forbid, uninteresting). We are getting closer to the end; I would be surprised if there were more than 24 or 25 chapters - and there could be fewer than that. Hang in there - and let me know what you think!
lorien
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