Finally! Done with the boring part. Dark and evil is back, and with that, the action in this story!
Chapter 4: Worries and Plans
It was an unusually quiet night. Clouds hung overhead, and the darkness was complete. A bone-chilling wind permeated the warm air, as a flock of Dementors hovered in circles above an eerie sight.
Putrid green-yellowish fumes issued from the cauldron, as two wizards, huddled around it, muttered indistinguishable spells. A human body was position in the fetal position; face down, inside the cauldron. The figure's dark hair was the only part visible.
The grisly ceremony was one, described in an ancient text, stolen from the Department of Mysteries nearly five years ago. It was a sole record of the magic described by the words written on its frail parchment. A magic, outlawed hundreds of years ago, more dangerous and daring that Voldemort's most ambitious attempts. It was a secret, buried long ago, but most unfortunately, now unearthed.
The recipe for a potion, allowing the duplication of a soul; not a separation, a full duplication, without the compromise of a division of the strength of the caster's soul.
Bellatrix Lestrange had been crushed by her Master's defeat, and she was determined to emulate Tom Riddle, and be greater than he ever was. She pursued immortality, and the potion she was currently submerged in would be key to achieving that goal.
Soon, success would be hers.
**
An owl hooted loudly, startling Harry awake. He had been having a strange dream, but remembrance escaped him, as he tried in vain to recall the details. Beside him, Hermione rolled over on her other side, and in her sleep, she draped a hand over Harry's chest.
Amazingly, the effect was immediate. Her touch seemed to calm him. Inexplicably, Harry felt himself grow drowsy again. Within minutes, his head hit the pillow, as he fell back in a peaceful slumber.
**
The following morning, Hermione was sitting in the kitchen, intently reading a copy of the Daily Prophet. The article in question was describing a most gruesome attack.
As this reporter writes, shocked to the core, at least fifty Muggles are dead and dying on a major London intersection near Big Ben. The origins of the attack remain unclear, as both Muggle and Magical authorities are cooperating in administering help to the wounded. This attack is highly reminiscent of the days when You-Know-Who had Britain in a grip of terror. The Minister of Magic, Fern Frivoldo, has urged the people to not panic, "This is an isolated accident," he told the Daily Prophet, "the Ministry is working to ensure it does not happen again."
The minister declined comment on the progress that has been made in capturing You-Know-Who's former inner circle of Death Eaters, which include Bellatrix Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov.
Hermione looked shrewdly at the article. She could tell this attack was part of something bigger, but she could not figure out what it was. Could it be another deranged pureblood, perhaps? She doubted whoever was behind the attack would reveal themselves yet, as an element of surprise was essential in causing chaos and disarray.
She heard Harry come down the stairs, and momentarily, disheveled and sleepy in appearance, he walked in the kitchen.
He grabbed a cup of coffee, and walking behind Hermione, he kissed her neck.
"Wondered where you were," he said.
"I'm right here, Harry," she replied impatiently. "You better sit down and read this."
Confused, Harry took the paper from Hermione. Reading the article, his expression quickly lost its sleepy quality, and a look of anger replaced it.
"How could he be so blind!" he steamed. "There's obviously someone behind this. Wouldn't be surprised if the Ministry's already been infiltrated by a mole."
Hermione looked at her fiancé with concern. She knew Harry was considering making a career as an Auror, and this kind of work would be what he would have to put up with on a daily basis.
"Harry, what about the wedding? Let's talk about that," Hermione offered, before Harry became too upset at the Ministry's trademark idiocy.
"What about it?" he said.
"What do you mean what about it? We have a lot to plan, Harry," said Hermione passionately. "I expect you to be involved."
"Alright then. What did you have in mind?"
" I wanted to plan it as a small wedding. Just you, me, and some close friends. We could probably do it somewhere romantic - maybe the Mediterranean," she revealed excitedly.
Hermione had certainly given the matter extensive thought, Harry observed; completely in contrast to himself, of course. He had not dedicated a shred of thought about where or how he married, as long as it was Hermione by his side. He loved her, and to him, that was all which mattered.
"Sounds good, Hermione," Harry replied. "What about a band?"
"Maybe we can find one. I don't know whether it should be a Muggle or Wizarding band, though," she bit her lip apprehensively.
"Then we can decide that later," said Harry.
His mind was still on the attack, as he struggled to think of someone who hated Muggles enough to cause a resurgence of such scale. Voldemort's Death Eaters were most likely dead in the final battle; the Order should have eliminated them.
Hermione had continued talking, but she noticed he was not listening to her.
"Harry?"
"Hm…yeah?"
"You weren't listening to me. What were you thinking about?"
"I can't get the attack out of my mind, Hermione. Innocent people died today for some lunatic's cause. They're targeting Muggles, and I'm not sure if this will be the only attack. The news that I'm alive again seems to have spread too somehow, and by know they know that you and I are together."
"I think you're too worried, Harry. I don't believe that it will be anything as monumental as Voldemort out there threatening us," she said, hoping to lift Harry's spirits.
"Not yet, Hermione, but it could be. I'm worried about you. The fact is, whoever is behind all this could be coming after me, since unfortunately I'm a really high-profile person. Just because of that, they could mean you harm."
Hermione was touched by Harry's concern for her.
"We'll be fine, Harry. We survived Voldemort, so what could be worse?"
"I don't know, Hermione, I don't know," Harry sighed.
"Come on, snap out of the despair. We have a wedding to plan for, and we could certainly use more happiness," said Hermione encouragingly.
"Alright," Harry smiled weakly. "Could you perhaps recount what you were saying earlier?" he asked.
Hermione groaned inwardly, because she had not remembered even half of the details of her narrative.
" I was saying, maybe we could hold the wedding somewhere more exotic than the Mediterranean - it just seems too idealistic if we do it there. It's a popular destination for engaged couples, and I want to do something different," Hermione told Harry seriously.
"I promise I'll give this matter some thought. In fact, I do already have an idea," he said with a wink, but refused to give anything else away.
Hermione's curiosity was peaked.
"Really? I don't believe you."
"Well, you better, because you might like it. I will have to send an owl later today to make it happen, but rest assured, you will not be disappointed," he told her evenly.
"What will make you spill the beans?" she asked
"That I cannot say, Hermione," he returned, "but have patience."
**
Harry walked out of the post office in Diagon Alley, happily thinking that his plan would leave Hermione speechless when the moment came.
As he walked down the alley, he did not notice the air around him slowly become colder. It was odd for a summer day, and a sudden chilly blast startled Harry out of his thoughts, and made him alert to his new situation.
Looking up, Harry could still see the sun shining, but none of its warmth reached him. A mist had started to snake silently on the ground, and the air became colder still. Vague black shapes could be seen drifting in the distance. They seemed to be coming closer.
Harry felt feelings despair and loneliness take hold of him. They were becoming stronger, gripping at him tighter and tighter. Only then did he realize - Dementors. They seemed many and more powerful than he could remember.
He remembered the Patronus charm, and tried to perform it, but no words came out. Harry felt his consciousness ebbing away, as the wand slipped from his hand, and he began falling, falling…
Was it death claiming him again?
A/N Oh noes…what happens next? Stay tuned to find out….in the meanwhile, leave a review
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