Disclaimer: I am not J. K. Rowling. If I were, I would have put the characters in more suitable ships in HBP, and there would have been no 'Won Won', nor a monster in Harry's chest.
Chapter 4: An Ordinary Visit to the Quibbler
"Are you sure that this thing is looking for horcruxes?" Ron asked with an amused smirk as he stared down at the likeness of Luna Lovegood on the surface of the Animus Signatus potion. "Maybe it's just trying to find girls who Harry's been on a date with."
Harry gave Ron an exasperated glare. "It wasn't a date. I just took her to Slughorn's stupid Christmas party. As a friend."
"If you say so, mate," Ron came back with a sly look. "But if you wanted to take a girl who was your friend to a Slug Club soiree, Hermione would have made a lot more sense, don't you think?" That gave Harry pause. Why hadn't he thought to invite Hermione to Slughorn's party? They were both single and pining foolishly for Weasleys who were with other people. Why hadn't he even considered her? "Not to mention that it would have saved her the embarrassment of adding Cormac McLaggen to her list of ex-boyfriends."
"Cormac McLaggen was never my boyfriend," Hermione told him with absolutely no uncertainty in her voice. "We can discuss this later, Ron. Right now we have more important things to worry about."
"Luna," Harry said as he exhaled deeply, leaning over the cauldron to get a better look. "Why is it showing us Luna?"
When Hermione didn't answer right away, Ron spoke up. "Same reason as it showed us Ginny, I reckon. She's connected with this horcrux somehow."
"But how?" Hermione asked, her voice cracking a bit in exhaustion. "How could Ravenclaw's quill be a horcrux? Why would Voldemort have even bothered with it?"
"Why wouldn't he?" Ron asked with a shrug. "He's supposed to be picking things that are connected to the Founders of Hogwarts, right?"
"But there's no evidence that 'Ravenclaw's quill' actually belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw," Hermione protested. "It didn't surface until hundreds of years after her death. Most scholars now believe that it isn't a genuine historical artifact."
"Maybe Voldemort hasn't read Hogwarts: a History as many times as you have," Harry said, a smile tugging at his lips.
"It figures that Luna would end up with something batty like a fake quill that's actually a horcrux," Ron declared with a sigh. "I guess it's up to us to go and rescue her from it."
Hermione stirred the potion restlessly. "I'm sure she would love for you to swoop in and save her, Ronald, but I think we would be better off staying here and seeing if we can find out more about the horcruxes. We might not have this chance again."
"Have you gone mad?" Ron asked her, his tone rising in disbelief. "Luna's in danger! Don't you remember what You-Know-Who had Ginny doing in second year? Wandering about the castle at all hours of the night, ordering a basilisk around. She nearly got killed! And what do you mean 'she'd love for me to swoop in and save her'?!"
"You know perfectly well what I mean," Hermione huffed. "Luna fancies you."
Ron's face turned pale. "She…she does?"
"Yes, Ron," Hermione answered him, her voice filled with irritation at his cluelessness. "She has for ages."
"You're having me on," Ron replied dismissively. "I think I would have noticed if Looney Lovegood had a crush on me."
"Ron's right," Harry said, standing upright as he faced both of his friends. Ron's confident look faded as Harry went on. "Not about Luna fancying him, about saving her from the horcrux. We need to get Ravenclaw's quill away from her as quickly as possible."
"Of course," Hermione agreed. "Obtaining the horcruxes has to be our top priority. Which is why we should wait a few more moments to see if the Animus Signatus can tell us what the next one is." Hermione cut off both Ron and Harry's arguments with a heated glare. "Harry, if Dumbledore was right about Voldemort making seven horcruxes, finding just one more would mean that we could account for five of them. We'd spare ourselves so much research, so much fruitless searching…"
"Hermione," Harry began.
"And I don't think Luna is in any real danger. The quill has been given to top Ravenclaw students by its Head of House for hundreds of years. Just in the time we've been at Hogwarts, Penelope Clearwater and Cho Chang have both been awarded Ravenclaw's quill and, as much as it might explain some of their dating choices, they don't seem to have been possessed by Voldemort." As Hermione stopped to take a breath, Harry pointed at the cauldron.
"Hermione, your ladle…it's broken," Harry informed her with an apologetic look on his face.
Her face a mask of disappointment, Hermione looked down to see the Animus Signatus potion cooling so rapidly that it had turned into solid chunks, breaking her ladle in two as she tried to keep stirring it. "Oh, blast," Hermione exclaimed, "this batch is useless now. There's nothing I can do to rejuvenate it." She balled her fists together in frustration. "I'm so sorry, Harry. If only I had added more marnox root at the rekindling stage…"
"You don't need to apologize to me, Hermione," Harry assured her as he laid one hand on her arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Without you, we wouldn't have the first clue where to start looking for the rest of the horcruxes." A small, tired smile formed on Hermione's lips by way of reply.
"Yeah," Ron agreed, although he looked less than enthusiastic. "Nobody expects you to be perfect all of the time, you know." Hermione's smile vanished at Ron's remark and she turned to face Harry with a grave expression on her face.
"Now if only we knew where to find Luna," Hermione thought aloud. "I suppose we could stop by Ottery St. Catchpole some afternoon and hope to catch her at home, but there's always a chance she's off with her father, looking for snorkacks or nargles or something."
Ron shook his head. "She told me she landed an internship at The Quibbler this summer." Hermione frowned at him. "What? We talked a bit after Dumbledore's funeral. It didn't mean anything." Hermione glared at him, her face reddening. "She doesn't fancy me! It was Harry she went on a date with, remember?"
Harry glowered angrily at Ron. He would not be dragged into one of Ron and Hermione's infamous rows. "It wasn't a date," he insisted again. Harry held one hand to his forehead. "Look, can we just go find Luna Lovegood and the bloody quill without arguing about her love life all day?"
Hermione closed her eyes for a moment as if clearing her mind, then nodded her head. "I should probably change Harry's bandages," she declared thoughtfully, "and you," Hermione poked Ron's chest with her index finger, "should change clothes. I'm sure George wouldn't appreciate you stretching out his t-shirt like that, and not even Luna would think you look good in those silly purple pajamas." As Ron gawked at her, Hermione grabbed Harry's hand and led him out of the room. "And be quick about it," she called after him. "We leave for The Quibbler in ten minutes."
*
Hermione Granger marched through the main lobby of The Quibbler's business offices, her fiercely determined look daring anyone to give her trouble. Harry walked slightly behind her with a stiff gait caused by a combination of a night of poor sleep and the bandages wrapped tightly around him. Ron brought up the rear, hands in his pockets and a hangdog expression on his face as he loped along, looking downcast. In addition to their row about Luna, Ron was upset that Hermione had taken it upon herself to apparate both Harry and Ron side along to the headquarters of The Quibbler, despite the redhead's insistence that Harry could get the two of them there just fine.
"Harry isn't supposed to apparate in his condition, Ron," Hermione had scolded him, her eyes flaring angrily as she spoke. "Now you can either let me take you side along, or you can act like a stubborn prat and stay here at Grimmauld. I'm sure Kreacher would enjoy the company."
That had settled it, although Ron had done nothing but mope about the situation ever since they'd arrived. Harry didn't really see why he was making such a big thing of it, but it was possible he was missing something. Judging from what Hermione had told him at St. Mungo's, perhaps Ron and Hermione's new relationship wasn't going well. Harry winced. The last thing he needed right now was his best friends bickering with each other more than they had before.
"Excuse me," Hermione called out to a frumpy woman in gray business robes who sat behind the front counter, "I need to speak with Phobos Lovegood."
The other woman's smile was insincere as she replied, "I'm sorry, miss. Mr. Lovegood isn't seeing visitors today."
"Oh, he'll want to see me," Hermione replied in a voice that told the world she was an extremely important person. "I represent Harry Potter. That's Mr. Potter over there, do you see him? He's standing next to the tall, obnoxious bloke with red hair."
Her previously disinterested eyes widened upon seeing Harry's scar. Suddenly her demeanor was friendly, her smile warm and inviting. "What can I do for Mr. Potter…and yourself, Miss…?"
"Granger. Hermione Granger," Hermione answered her as she extended her hand politely. "Mr. Potter would like to explore the possibility of doing another exclusive interview for The Quibbler. If Mr. Lovegood is available to discuss the matter, that is."
Harry watched Hermione as she talked animatedly to the receptionist, her confidence and charm seemingly winning the woman over. After redressing his bandages, Hermione had changed into a comfortable pair of jeans and a white blouse with a blue-gray mini tee underneath. On top of that, she'd managed to put on what little makeup she wore and still have time to lecture Ron about brushing his teeth more often. Harry smiled broadly as Hermione turned around and gave him a fond glance. She really was an amazing girl.
"Harry," Ron began hesitantly, "what do you think of Hermione?"
Harry's head turned in Ron's direction so quickly that it was painful. He must have looked terribly guilty and was trying hard not to blush. Had Ron been taking legilimency lessons too? "What?" Harry asked in a startled voice. "What do you mean?"
Ron seemed strangely nervous. "Do you…d'you think she's better than me?"
Harry felt a weight lift from him as he realized Ron hadn't been asking him what he thought of Hermione as a girl, but what he thought of her as… his best friend? A witch? Wait a minute, what was Ron asking him? "What are you on about?" Harry asked, trying to pass off a sigh of relief as a sigh of exasperation.
"Obviously she's brilliant," Ron continued, "And she can do… things…that I can't. I was just wondering if you felt like she was better, you know, at magic and stuff."
Harry considered it for a moment. The answer that immediately sprung to mind, 'Of course I do,' didn't seem very wise. He didn't want to lie to Ron, but he didn't want to hurt his feelings either. "Listen, Ron, you and Hermione are my best friends. You're the only people I trust enough to have my back as we look for the," he lowered his voice, "horcruxes. I can't do this without you. Without both of you." Harry gave his best mate a questioning frown. "Does this have anything to do with Hermione apparating you side along?"
Ron nodded. "Yeah, I reckon so." Harry shot him a scowl. "I know it must seem a bit silly to you, Harry, but…blokes like Seamus and Dean have been cracking jokes for years about 'side dishes' and…"
"What's a 'side dish'?" Harry interrupted as he watched the plain woman Hermione had been talking to get up from her desk.
"It's an older girl who doesn't have much else going for her that a guy dates just because she can apparate," Ron admitted, his cheeks flushing a bit. "I didn't want Hermione to think that she was my 'side dish'." Harry didn't know quite what to say to that, so Ron asked him another very difficult question. "Harry, if Hermione and I…if we break up, do you think we could still be friends? The three of us, I mean?"
Harry had been afraid of that very thing happening for over a year now. "I don't know, Ron." As Hermione walked over to her two best friends, Harry whispered, "I hope so."
"Come on," Hermione called them with an emphatic gesture. "Luna's working out of her father's office," she explained once Harry was within earshot. "He's agreed to see us."
As they followed Hermione down several flights of stairs, Ron and Harry looked around at the interior of The Quibbler. The smell of newsprint filled the air as the small, bustling office continued what must have been its daily routine, the various conversations and scratching of quills blending together into a dull roar. "It's really nothing out of the ordinary, is it?" Ron asked rhetorically. "Dad took me on a tour of the Daily Prophet once and it looked pretty much the same as this place does. I guess I was expecting rampaging heliopaths or large gurdyroots dangling from the ceiling."
"Honestly, Ron, it's a place of business," Hermione chided him. "Whatever nonsense the Quibbler may report, I'm sure the people who work here are very dedicated and serious."
Reaching the large oak door with a sign that read, 'Phobos Lovegood, Editor-in-Chief,' Hermione opened it and the three of them stepped inside. Sitting at an oblong desk in the middle of the room was a large man in his late 30s with sandy brown hair who was intently examining a piece of parchment while twirling a corkscrew on his finger. Above him, a dozen paper airplanes flew in tight formation, swirling about in a circle. Once he placed the parchment in his Out basket (which shouted the word "out", then made the paper vanish), one of the planes landed on his desk, unfolded itself and the process began all over again.
Stunned into silence, Harry, Hermione and Ron looked around the room in fascination. A typewriter with large letter keys that were spaced ridiculously far apart sat in the far corner of the room, which was blanketed with feathers. Blurry pictures with such labels as 'Partial snorkel of crumple-horned snorkacks, East Timor, 1993' and 'Long-necked billubit sighting, Peru, 1988' lined the walls. Several dozen birds of different types, including owls, peregrine falcons and cockatoos, perched in open cages hanging from the ceiling. Harry at first thought that the newspaper on the floor (all copies of The Quibbler, of course) had been put down to catch the droppings of the birds. However, after examining it more closely, he concluded that the papers made up a sort of carpet that ran the entire length of the room. Harry himself was standing on a rather wordy article about how best to prepare bubble mint tea.
"Girls," Phobos Lovegood called out in a coo. "Take a letter." Bedlam followed, as every bird in the room descended from its cage and landed near the typewriter, each of their beaks poised over a different letter key. A nightingale let out an unpleasant chirp. "Bertie, you know very well that you had 'Q' last time. It's Robin's turn to…" As he looked up to address the bird, he caught sight of Hermione, Harry and Ron.
"I see I have guests," he announced with a daffy smile. He rose from his chair and extended his hand to Ron. "Ronald Weasley. I've heard a great deal about you from my daughter. All of it good, I'm afraid. Pleased to finally meet you." Hermione sent Ron a look that said 'See? Even Luna's dad knows that she fancies you.' "Miss Granger, we haven't met before, but I understand that you were the one who arranged Harry's interview. My receptionist thinks the world of you." Hermione accepted a kiss on the hand from Phobos Lovegood, temporarily ignoring the fact that she'd never met Mr. Lovegood's receptionist before today.
"And Harry Potter," Phobos continued, his booming voice becoming gradually louder, "how can I properly thank the lad who sold more copies of one issue of The Quibbler than 'Ministry Manticore Breeding Programs: Fact or Cover-Up?'?" Mr. Lovegood walked around his desk and put his arms around Harry, pulling him into an awkward hug. Harry squirmed away from him quickly, but Phobos kept one arm dangling around the younger man's neck. "Listen, Harry. If you ever want to do another interview for The Quibbler, you have my personal guarantee that we will get your side of the story out. None of that biased swill that the Prophet publishes. We can even set you up with that Skeeter woman who talked to you before, if that would make you more comfortable…"
As Harry looked completely confused, Hermione interrupted the exuberant publisher. "I'm afraid we're just in the discussion phase now. Harry's fielding a lot of different offers. It would be a bit hasty to commit to anything without considering all of our options first."
"Of course," Phobos responded, his smile faltering a bit. "You can't be too careful these days, can you, Harry?" Mr. Lovegood slapped Harry hard on the back, making Hermione wince in sympathy. Harry felt dizzy for a few moments as his skin tingled painfully. "Would the three of you like a tour of the building? Because I think I know someone who would be willing to show you around." Picking up a large, off-white colored horn which looked like it had once belonged to a gargantuan rhinoceros, Phobos Lovegood put his mouth to one end and called out, "Loooo-na!"
His voice reverberated throughout the room, causing some of the smaller birds to squawk irritably. Harry and Hermione each clapped their hands over their ears, although Ron seemed to take the strangeness in stride, with a mildly amused grin plastered on his face. Within seconds, Luna Lovegood stuck her head through a door that adjoined with Phobos' office. "Yes, Daddy?" she asked nonchalantly.
Phobos Lovegood gave his daughter a look of adoration. "Would you mind showing our visitors around? I still have an editorial to write."
"That depends," Luna replied playfully. "Did you end up taking my advice?"
Mr. Lovegood's smile was wide and warm. "Yes, dear. I chose to write on the dangers of arithmancy as a gateway to necromancy instead of the opinion piece on recently uncovered evidence of an ancient saurian civilization."
The petite blonde girl nodded knowingly as she leaned out from the doorpost. "The saurian story will make an excellent front page spread once we have better photographs." Turning her attentions to the Trio, she batted her eyes and smiled dreamily. "What would you like to see first? Our colony of plank-footed hibblyjinks or the mechanized wand buffers?"
*
Harry kept his distance as Luna Lovegood conducted their unofficial tour of Quibbler headquarters. It's not that he wasn't interested in the quirks and historical tidbits associated with the odd little newspaper that had been such a boon to him in fifth year, it was that he had other, larger things on his mind. Like how he was going to get Ravenclaw's quill away from Luna. He could always steal it from her, he supposed, but that seemed unnecessarily cruel. He also sincerely doubted that Hermione would agree to it. The only alternative he could think of, however, involved letting the sixth year Ravenclaw in on the secret of Voldemort's horcruxes. It was a dangerous proposition and one Harry was dreading.
Hermione had been tarrying a bit behind Luna as well and Harry suspected she'd gotten a bit bored with the younger girl's fantastic tales of beasts that didn't exist. Ron, on the other hand, seemed riveted by Luna's demonstrations of ordinary muggle and wizarding world office supplies that had been given some kind of weird twist by the Lovegoods. With a disappointed frown, Harry tried to decide whether or not Ron was paying Luna extra attention just to make Hermione jealous. In his opinion, both girls deserved better.
"So these little muggle devices actually make coffee? Without magic?" Ron asked as he put both of his hands inside one of the coffee makers, which had a pair of antennae sticking out from the top. "Brilliant. But why don't you just have house elves do it?"
Hermione bristled, but Luna took the question in stride. "Daddy doesn't believe in using house elf labor. It's fundamentally unfair to use them as slaves, but it's also very unsanitary. House elves have no way to protect themselves from jumping wallfins, after all."
Ron grinned and Hermione was trying hard not to look impressed. "Yes, I suppose that's true," she said, her tone deliberately neutral. "You know," she continued, a flash of inspiration striking her, "my parents have been complaining about their coffee maker for years. I've been thinking of getting them a new one for their next wedding anniversary. Could I possibly write down the brand name so I don't forget?" Miming a search through her jeans for a pen, Hermione turned to Luna sheepishly. "I'm sorry, do you have a quill that I could use?"
Luna smiled brightly. "I have this one," she said, reaching inside her robes and withdrawing a case with a gold crest emblazoned with the letter 'L'. "It's Ravenclaw's quill," she proclaimed proudly. Inside was the peacock blue feather which hid a part of Voldemort's soul.
"Really?" Hermione asked, feigning surprise with little difficulty. "You were given Ravenclaw's quill?"
"I know," Luna responded with a modest blush. "Five generations of Lovegoods sorted into Ravenclaw and I was the first one to receive it. Daddy was thrilled."
"I'm sure he was," Harry replied, feeling a bit glum about the situation at hand. Whatever was about to happen, Luna wouldn't be keeping the quill for long.
"I was really surprised, particularly since Hogwarts hasn't officially reopened yet," Luna continued, babbling slightly. "But Daddy's sources in the Ministry assure him that it will. I can't believe they picked me! Although," she said shyly, turning to face Hermione, "if the Sorting Hat had put you into Ravenclaw, I'm sure you would have been the one Professor Flitwick gave it to."
Hermione couldn't stop her cheeks from flushing, no matter how much she wanted to. "Thanks, Luna. That's very nice of you to say."
Harry sighed. He got the feeling that Hermione had been on the verge of telling Luna the real reason they were here, but had just lost her nerve. "Listen, Luna, there's something we need to tell you about the quill. It's…I mean, we're pretty sure it's…how can I say this…"
"Luna," Ron said seriously, "Ravenclaw's quill is a horcrux."
Both Harry and Hermione were floored, as neither of them had expected Ron to be the one to handle the situation. Now that he had, they seemed unable to speak, their eyes transfixed on Luna as they waited for her reaction. It wasn't long in coming. She laughed.
Luna Lovegood laughed as though someone had told her the most hilarious joke in the world. She laughed like she had on the Hogwarts Express when Ron had compared Goyle to a baboon's backside before fifth year. She laughed until tears ran down her face, and then she cried out, "Oh, Ronald, you're so funny."
"It's not a joke, Luna," Harry insisted in a secretive tone. "Voldemort made a horcrux out of Ravenclaw's quill. We're going to have to destroy it."
"But Harry," Luna countered in a singsong voice, "there's no such thing as horcruxes."
For what felt like the hundredth time since they had arrived at the headquarters of The Quibbler, the Trio were stunned into silence. After gaping at Luna for a few long moments, Hermione eventually managed to speak. "You…you don't believe in horcruxes?"
"Of course not," Luna replied in a dismissive voice. "In 1745, Pertinax Qualingame proved that you couldn't make a horcrux by trying to split his own soul in two and putting the other half into one of his favorite goblets. He then celebrated his failure to do so by drinking three casks of wine with it in one night. I read about it in my first edition copy of Hogwarts: a History."
"You have a first edition of Hogwarts: a History?" Hermione asked, clearly awed by the notion. Ron and Harry turned to glare chidingly at Hermione, who looked apologetic and then rebutted Luna's argument. "But all that proves is that Pertinax Qualingame wasn't powerful enough to make a horcrux in the first place. He wasn't exactly in his prime while he was at Hogwarts, and it sounds like he had a serious problem with alcohol…"
"That's not important, Hermione," Ron interrupted impatiently. "Luna, Harry's seen a horcrux. Two of them, actually. He's destroyed them both and it was right scary both times. Now if you could just see fit to, well, give it to us so we can try and…"
As Ron was speaking, the four of them were abruptly plunged into darkness. The entire building, in fact, seemed devoid of light. Within moments, a few of the employees (as well as Harry and Hermione) had performed the wand lighting charm, the combined glow illuminating the room dimly. The sight that greeted them was a grim one. A dozen figures in green robes and white masks had entered the room under the cover of darkness.
"Death Eaters," Harry breathed, crouching down next to Hermione as he did so. "Nox," they said at once, deciding that their wands could be put to better use at the moment.
"How'd they get in?" Ron muttered to himself.
"It wouldn't have been difficult to make it past the guards outside," Luna mused, "but they must have disabled the wards Daddy set up to keep undesirables out of the executive offices. Luckily, there are several more levels of wards between us and them." Luna looked thoughtful. "Do you think they've come for our complete set of dueling smatter tacks? They're quite rare, you know."
Harry shook his head. "There are only two things in this building that Voldemort wants. That," he pointed to Ravenclaw's quill, which Luna had tucked behind her right ear, "and me."
Hermione looked from an advancing row of Death Eaters back to Harry. "He's not going to get either thing." She grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him forward, motioning for Ron and Luna to follow her. The quartet pushed several desks together and hid behind them as a set of green robed figures worked to disable the wards a few meters away.
"I don't think we'll be getting any help from out here," Harry assessed, looking at the stationary forms of the Quibbler employees.
Ron examined the people around him with a scowl. "It looks like they've been petrified."
"Some of them have," Hermione concurred as she watched a Death Eater hex an interfering young reporter. "Others are just scared. They're not willing to risk their lives for whatever it is the Death Eaters want."
"And we are," Ron finished for her, although it came out sounding a bit like a question. "I mean, of course we are," he amended, puffing out his chest for the girls' benefit. "Gryffindor bravery and all of that."
"I'm a Ravenclaw," Luna pointed out unnecessarily. "Daddy would help us, I'm sure of it, but his office automatically seals itself once the outermost wards are tripped."
"Of course it does," Harry groused. He lit his wand again and took a long look at the Death Eaters surrounding them. "How much do the three of you remember from our lessons in the D.A.?"
"Everything," Hermione said confidently. "Some of it," Ron gulped. "You kissed Cho," Luna reminded him.
Ignoring Luna's remark, Harry grinned devilishly and turned to face his three friends. "Are you ready for another lesson?" Before they could answer, he pointed his wand at a nearby Death Eater and cried, "Impedimenta!" The slight, green-robed man fell flat on his back and the battle was on.
Luna fired a jelly legs jinx at the Death Eater who appeared to be doing the most work to take down the wards, while Ron cast a simple "Expelliarmus!" on one standing close to him. Hermione used a "diffindo" to open a sack of marble paperweights that had been sitting on the top shelf of a gigantic file cabinet, sending them rolling down to the floor and making their attackers fall all over each other. Harry stood in the middle of the three of them, as if steeling himself for battle.
Calling every happy memory that he had of Ron and Hermione to mind, he yelled "Expecto patronum!" The glowing image of Prongs burst forth from his wand and galloped through the ranks of the Death Eaters. "Now," he instructed the others and soon a volley of disarming spells rained down on the dark wizards, as Hermione, Ron and Luna took advantage of their enemy's sudden blindness.
"How very extravagant of you, Potter," a menacing voice called out from behind them. "Conjuring a patronus when a common flare charm would do just as well. Your ego is as inflated as ever."
"Who's there?" Ron asked in a bit of a panic, his eyes widening in shock as he searched in vain for the source of the voice.
"Snape," Harry hissed, recognizing the haughty tone of his former Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at once. "Slithering about under an invisibility cloak, are you? Did you borrow Malfoy's?" Harry taunted him as he looked around for some sign of where Snape might be. "Or is the Ferret with you now? Hiding is more his style than yours."
"Very well," Severus Snape's voice replied drolly. "If hiding isn't my style…" He appeared suddenly behind Luna Lovegood, seizing her around the chest and thrusting his wand into her throat. "Perhaps this is." Harry, Ron and Hermione moved closer to where Snape held Luna. "I wouldn't come too much closer if I were you. You'd be astonished how many ways I can hurt Ms. Lovegood without causing harm to myself."
"Professor Snape?" Luna asked, looking up at him in a daze. Snape sneered, unwilling to acknowledge her. "Did you ever finish grading my last essay? It was a comparison of the defensive properties of dragon hide and puffskein fur. I never did get it back."
"Be quiet, you silly little girl," Snape growled, shaking her roughly. Harry and Ron both lurched forward protectively as Snape pulled Luna further away from them. "Before you plan on any heroics, I'd like you to consider how adept I am at performing my own spells nonverbally." One greasy black eyebrow rose thoughtfully. "I've always wondered how much damage a sectumsempra would do when applied directly to the jugular."
Ron looked ready to tear Snape's head from his shoulders, but Harry motioned for him to back off. "What do you want, Snape?"
Snape snorted contemptuously. "Does seeing the pretty young Ravenclaw in mortal peril fill you with such terror that you're willing to negotiate already, Potter? Your date with her must have been very…productive."
Harry's stomach sank. So that was why Death Eaters had attacked the Quibbler. Snape thought Luna was his girlfriend. By now, Voldemort probably did, too. "It wasn't a date," he murmured sadly. At that moment, Hermione dashed up to him and whispered something in his ear. Harry's initial frown became a wide grin as Snape looked on in irritation.
"You know," Snape said to him, "it is common courtesy to at least wait until I kill Miss Lovegood before moving on with Miss Granger." Harry's face went beet red. "Although I suppose it isn't that surprising, given your father's behavior at the same age."
"Leave Luna be, Snape," Harry commanded him, refusing to rise to the bait about his father. "You only wanted her to get to me. Well, you've got me. Let her go."
"The hero sacrifices himself for his lady love," Snape said mockingly. "Tell me: Was it Dumbledore who taught you how to be so insufferably noble, or does it come naturally?"
"Don't say his name," Harry said through a clenched jaw, wondering snidely to himself if Snape could do anything without speaking, much less cast a spell.
"Still a tad sensitive about the death of your old mentor, I see," Snape said with a harsh laugh in his voice.
"You betrayed him!" Harry exclaimed, losing his composure and stepping perilously closer to Snape. "He trusted you, he gave you a second chance…"
"And then I killed him," Snape interrupted coldly. "There's a good life lesson in there for you, Potter. Trust no one but yourself." Harry's fists shook with rage. "If Dumbledore had followed that bit of advice, he never would have trusted me as his servant, nor would he have trusted you to keep him safe. Unfortunately, those two decisions were the ones that cost him his life."
Harry gave out a frustrated roar. "If you weren't hiding behind Luna, I'd…"
"You'd what?" Snape demanded with a smirk of superiority. "Finish what your dear, departed Headmaster didn't bother to start?"
Luna was growing more frightened by the minute and Hermione had gone very pale. "Yes!" Harry cried out. "I'd finish you once and for all!"
"Harry, no!" Hermione warned from behind him, but it went unheeded.
"Very well." Severus Snape turned to the nearest Death Eater and gave him a curt nod. "I accept your challenge to a wizard's duel."
"A wizard's duel?" Harry asked, confusion and anger mixing heavily in his voice. "I didn't challenge you to…"
The former Potions Master looked at Harry with disdain. "You wouldn't be backing out, would you?"
As Harry hesitated, Ron stepped forward. "No, he isn't." He then turned to Harry and spoke to him in an urgent whisper. "If you don't fight him, mate, I will."
Hermione was frantic. "We'd like to request terms under which this duel will be fought."
Snape smiled thinly. "Very good, Miss Granger. At least one of your number is using their brain." His eyes scanned the room quickly. "I think you'll find my terms generous. Everyone in this building, save for the three of you and the Lovegoods, may leave safely before the duel takes place. If Mr. Potter can best me in single combat, he may take me and as many of my cohorts as he can to Azkaban… or kill me, as he so chooses."
"I know what I'd so choose," Ron muttered under his breath.
"However, if I can defeat him in wizard combat, I shall take what is left of him away from here unhindered. If he lives, he will be a prisoner of the Dark Lord, his fate determined by what my Master wishes. If he dies, he becomes a trophy to our cause, a symbol of the Dark Lord's victory." Snape bent slightly in a mockery of a bow. "Do we have a deal?"
Harry's eyes glowed furiously. "We do."
In a bit of a panic, Hermione pulled him aside. "This is lunacy! Snape's older than you," Harry turned away from her slightly and fixed his eyes on his wand, "I'm sure that he knows a lot of really painful spells and he's a Death Eater! They don't exactly play by the rules! Harry, you've just suffered severe spell damage, you can't seriously be thinking about going through with a duel!"
"Snape killed Dumbledore, Hermione," Ron reminded her, his voice hard and bitter.
"Exactly!" she exclaimed. "He killed Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard of our time. He's capable of anything! And imagine what a morale boost it would be to Voldemort's followers if Snape killed Harry, too." Her bottom lip quivered a bit at the thought.
"Snape's not going to kill me," Harry declared authoritatively. Hermione looked ready to contradict him, but Harry cut her off. "He can't. Remember the prophecy? Only Voldemort can do me in. The worst Snape can do is hurt me. And that gives me the advantage."
Hermione looked horrified. "You're not planning on killing Snape, are you?"
"Would it be so terrible if he did?" Ron asked frankly. "He's a murderer and a traitor. Nothing Harry could do to him would be as bad as what he deserves."
"But Harry, you mustn't," Hermione advised pleadingly. "If you kill Snape in a wizard's duel, they can't just dismiss it as a war casualty. They'll put you on trial for murder."
"There isn't a wizard in the world without the Dark Mark on his arm who would vote to convict Harry for offing Snape," Ron said dismissively.
"Maybe not," Hermione countered, "but the trial could take months, maybe even years. Can you imagine? Voldemort would be free to do whatever he wants. No one could stop him."
"No one's going to be able to stop him now if I just sit around playing it safe all the time," Harry said, his voice sounding much older than his seventeen years. The memory of Voldemort killing innocent muggleborns forty years ago flashed through his brain. He couldn't let something like that happen here. "I have to take risks now and then."
Hermione's eyes flashed dangerously, but all she said was, "I really wish you'd rethink this. Somehow, you dueling Snape falls into some larger plan of his, I'm sure of it."
"I don't trust the greasy git either," Ron grumbled. He then gave Harry a manly slap on the shoulder as he walked away from Hermione. "Don't worry about it, though, mate. I'll be watching your back. If Snape tries anything underhanded, he won't know what hit him."
"Yes, and given the usual quality of your spellwork, neither will you," Snape quipped to harsh laughter from a handful of nearby Death Eaters.
Harry approached his enemy with a confident look in his eye that didn't match the nervous gurgling in his stomach. "Let's get this over with."
"You'll need a second," the older man with the slimy goatee informed him.
Harry shook his head. "No. I'm ready now."
"A second for the duel, Potter," Snape explained to him petulantly.
Harry looked over his shoulder at his two best friends. Hermione was standing there scowling at him disapprovingly, while Ron looked ready to hex everyone in the room. "Ron," Harry told Snape.
"I suppose Mr. Weasley will have to do." The apparent leader of the Death Eaters summoned another to his side. "Moorefield, if you would be so kind?" A shabbily dressed wizard with his mask on wrong stood next to Snape and began waiting nervously for the duel to start. "Before we begin, I'd like to give everyone in this room who isn't a meddling Gryffindor fool the chance to leave." He pointed his wand at the door. "Reducto!"
Wasting little time on the niceties, close to fifty people abandoned the building, trampling each other all the way. Harry watched them go sadly, although he couldn't really blame them. This wasn't their fight. 'No,' Harry corrected himself. 'This is everyone's fight. They just don't know it yet.'
Snape proceeded to point his wand over his shoulder. "Impedimenta." He then swooped around, Luna still clasped tightly in his arms. "I'm sorry, Phobos. I didn't mean you. Sectumsempra!" In the space of a moment, a disillusionment charm faded away from the angry-looking face of Phobos Lovegood and a bloody gash formed at the base of his neck. He fell to the floor in shock and pain. "Pity. I don't believe I actually punctured the jugular vein. The wound should be potentially fatal nonetheless, particularly when coupled with the Cruciatus Curse." Snape smiled wickedly. "Oh, I almost forgot. Crucio!"
Luna screamed as loudly as her father likely would have, had Severus Snape not damaged his windpipe. "Daddy," she sobbed, wriggling desperately in Snape's grasp.
"Go to him," Snape commanded her as he flung her in Phobos' direction, discreetly pocketing Ravenclaw's quill as he did so. "Whisper words of comfort in his ear. He'll need them." He twirled around to face Harry. "You'd best make this quick, Potter. Lovegood doesn't have time for you to play games."
"I'm done playing games," Harry snarled. He marched toward Snape fiercely, his wand clutched in his right hand.
"Face each other," the Death Eater Snape had called Moorefield commanded in a slurring voice. "Wands up." Both men raised their wands to their faces.
"Don't bother to thank me for putting you out of your misery," Snape said condescendingly.
Harry hissed at him in parseltongue. Snape assumed it was an insult and gave his former student an indignant glare. "Turn away. Walk five paces," Moorefield continued. "On three, gentlemen. One…two…"
Snape pivoted suddenly and, without saying a word, conjured a cone-shaped bolt of white light. Shooting from his wand like a rocket, the patronus-like form sped toward where Harry stood, still thinking of what spells he could use against his hated former teacher. Hermione saw the sneak attack a moment too late. "Harry, watch…" But before she could warn him, Ron stepped in front of Snape's spell.
"Protego!" he cried. The shielding charm held the dart of light for only a fraction of a second, then buckled, allowing the bolt of magical energy to rip mercilessly into Ron's chest.
A bright white light made his chest glow for a moment, then seemingly faded away. Ron let out a harsh gasp and staggered backward, eliciting a frown of concern from Harry and a whispered "Ron?" from Hermione as they both rushed toward him.
"I'm alright, really," Ron assured them, although he seemed to be having trouble catching his breath. "Just need a minute to…" The redhead closed his mouth and clutched his chest, looking as though he were about to vomit. Instead, he spoke with a voice that did not sound like Ron's own. "What did you do to me?" he asked simply, his eyes staring accusingly at Snape's ashen face.
The same eerie white glow that had hit him moments earlier came billowing out of Ron's mouth, forcing him to his knees. It was as though an invisible dementor hovered over him, performing the kiss. The mystical energy then darted back at Snape, slamming into his forehead and knocking the Death Eater cold.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Harry watched as Hermione bent down to check Ron's vital signs, a crease of worry forming on her brow. Luna Lovegood cradled her father in her arms, pleading with a higher power to spare her the loss of another parent. Even Moorefield stooped to see if Severus Snape had survived the ordeal, checking for a pulse with his wand.
Harry leaned over Hermione. "Is Ron alright? Is he…" 'Going to live' was what he meant to ask, but something made him choke back the words.
"I…I don't know," Hermione stammered nervously. "He's breathing. His heart's beating. He seems perfectly normal, but…I don't know what to check for. I don't know what spell Snape used." Her eyes pooled up with tears as she looked up at Harry. "What are we going to do?"
At the very moment Harry was contemplating that dilemma, a group of wizards in Aurors' robes stormed into the room. He would have breathed a sigh of relief a few minutes earlier; his plan of sending Prongs to find Tonks (who he had seen standing guard near Gringotts while on the short walk from the apparation point to the Quibbler's offices) had worked. The proverbial cavalry had arrived and only a few moments too late.
"Everyone on the ground," a stern male voice called out. "Wands down, on the ground, now!" the familiar-looking man barked at Harry and Hermione, both of whom were too shell-shocked to reply.
"For Pete's sake, Dawlish, they're just kids," Tonks scolded him, her hair a blazing shade of orange with purple streaks. "That's Harry there, he's the one who sent us the warning in the first place. Harry, is everyone all right? I thought I…" She stopped speaking when she saw Ron lying pale and lifeless on the floor. The Auror gasped as she then took in the sight of Phobos Lovegood, prone and bleeding profusely not far away.
"We need to get them out of here. Use the emergency medical portkeys," Tonks ordered a bewildered man standing next to her. As he scurried off, two Aurors with healer field training took over for an inconsolable Luna.
Hermione wasn't in much better shape, letting hot tears roll down her cheeks as Harry held her to his chest, cradling her gently and slowly rubbing his hands over her back. There was nothing they could say to properly express their anguish, nor were words of comfort necessary. Both of them knew that they would lose a part of themselves if anything happened to Ron; a part that they could never get back. Harry looked down at Hermione, who wiped her tears on his shirt as her hair softly brushed his cheek. As they watched Ron vanish in front of them, she clutched him even tighter, her short fingernails digging into his shoulder blades and Harry felt his arms wrap themselves all the way around her protectively.
The two of them barely noticed as Aurors surrounded a group of disoriented-looking Death Eaters, led by a visibly distraught Moorefield. "Oh bloody hell," he muttered. "This wasn't supposed to happen." When a group of the dark wizard catchers began to move in on him, however, the Death Eater suddenly vanished.
As Dawlish and some of the other Aurors clucked and stammered about, Tonks swore under her breath. "Illegal portkey. It's the only way he could have made it past the anti-apparation wards." The metamorphmagus motioned for Harry and Hermione to follow her. "Come on. The least I can do is take you to St. Mungo's. If you don't mind going along with this wanker, that is." As Tonks kneeled next to an unconscious Snape, Harry and Hermione gripped a black and white striped umbrella and the four of them disappeared.
What can I say? I dig the cliffies. I also dig reviews, so if you want to leave one on your way out, I would appreciate it.
ITL