Whatever this is, it remains not mine. Any questions? Good.
Chapter 4
She tried to stay mad at them, honestly she did. She didn't know what it was, but she could just not stay mad at Harry Potter. It was rather irritating, actually. One way or another they awoke at roughly the same time a few hours later, and headed further into the maze. The march was silent, each person reflecting on something or other. Hermione, for example, was wondering just why it had hurt so much when she found out that Harry had been keeping things from her. She was used to falsehoods and misdirection, she had been surrounded by them growing up, so this shouldn't bother her so much. So why did it?
Ron's thoughts mostly revolved around the next meal and the wonderful girl he had left at home. Luna was such a dear to put up with him leaving the country often, sometimes with only a few hours notice. He was fingering the simple golden ring in one of the pockets of his coveralls with a smile. He had picked it up when 'David' and 'Abigail' had been out to dinner, and it was going to make two people very happy when the team got back to England.
Harry's thoughts were, appropriately, very much in tune with Hermione's. He had been keeping secrets and telling lies for almost a decade now, and it had never bothered him before. Even keeping things from Ginny, his supposed girlfriend, hadn't bothered him nearly as much as keeping things from Hermione. What did that say about him? Was he simply a terrible person? Of course his relationship with Ginny was over, everyone knew it except for Ginny herself and her mother. She had only ever wanted to be with him to share his limelight, which was actually not something he begrudged her. She had lived all her life under the shadow of six older brothers, five of who were very successful in their own fields (even if one of them was a bit of a slime). She deserved some attention of her own, but he thought that she was more than capable of getting it as something more than the mother of Harry Potter's children. He had actually meant to break it off when they got back from Egypt, but he hadn't got to see her at all thanks to Remus' surprise assignment. Who knows, maybe she had gotten tired of the long waits and broken it off? Not bloody likely.
And so they marched, stopping only briefly for a bite now and then. During one of these infrequent breaks Hermione noticed Harry sitting a bit further away, looking at a dog-eared photograph. She walked over and, when he didn't protest or make any other movement, sat down beside him. The picture was over a beautiful young woman, not much younger than Hermione herself. She was small and lithe, with long red hair was big brown eyes. She was smiling and laughing at the camera, every so often throwing her hair over her shoulder. Hermione had never seen a moving picture before; it must have been a magical thing. "Her name's Ginny." Harry's soft voice cut through the stillness of her thoughts. He was still looking only at the picture.
"Your sister?" she asked hesitantly. She knew it was a stupid question, but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to say the more likely possibility.
Harry snorted. "His sister." He nodded towards Ron, who was systematically devouring a bowl of hash. "More like my girlfriend." He seemed very sad saying this, and Hermione asked him about it. He chuckled slightly. "Funny story. See, there's this very evil wizard named Voldemort who's been trying to kill me almost all my life. When I was a year old I killed him, thanks to my mother and some ancient magic that nobody really understands. So now I'm a celebrity in the Wizarding World, which means women want me and men want to be me." He looked at the picture for another moment or two. "Ginny was always been one of the worst. It didn't help that I saved her life when she was eleven, but being my girlfriend has been her dream since preschool. I broke up with her last year, but she didn't take the hint." He chuckled a bit more, still considering it a funny story. His laughter sounded empty to her ears.
"That's not a funny story." She commented sadly. Exactly why it wounded her so much that he had a girlfriend back home she didn't quite know.
His weak laughter died out instantaneously. "No, I guess it isn't." He hunched over a little more, and Hermione didn't think he had ever looked more vulnerable or alone. Subconsciously she slid one hand over his shoulder and held him, nothing more. One of his hands closed gently around her arm. Their faces turned in to face one another, inching forward ever so slowly. She could feel her lips part, with just a fraction of an inch to go, when…
"Sweet mother of Merlin!" Ron's curse split the two of them faster than anything else could have. "Harry, Hermione, you'd better take a look at this!" They came over quickly, and saw an inscription on the stone glow with fire. It read:
όπως υγεία όπως θάνατος;
έναs ίδρυμα του αυστηρός,
μόλιs όπως αντωνυμία ευλογώ.
είναι όλος αυτό είναι όλο καλός,
ακόμα με έναs μοχθηρός χαντάκι;
όπως αυτό ξεκίνησα πράγμα,
μπορεί επίσηs τέλοs.
"Can you translate it?" Harry asked his red haired friend gingerly. Hermione gathered, with an apparently high degree of success, that Ron was the master of languages in the group.
Aforementioned master was busy scribbling down the markings before they faded, which they soon did. When he was finished he gave Harry a patronising look. "Of course I can translate it, you didn't bring me along for my charming personality." He studied the message carefully, ignoring Harry's muttered comment. "Looks like Greek, shouldn't be hard. Ah! Here we go!" He took a deep breath, and began to recite
"As destructive as life,
As healing as death;
An institutioner of strife,
Just as prone to bless.
It is all that is good,
Yet with an evil trend;
As it is the beginning of things,
It can also be the end."
"It's a riddle!" Hermione remarked, amid nods and muttered agreement. "I wonder what the answer is?" They didn't need to worry about it, because the wall suddenly developed a large crack. Right down the middle. The two halves separated slowly, revealing a flat stretch of stone. The wall was engraved with another inscription:
hidla chennych a fi erioed ymddangos at bwyso
dwi made at pawb chreaduresau,
namyn ond 'ch deipio all hymrysonfa 'r enilla
The other two looked expectantly at Ron, who was doing some rearranging on a scrap of paper. "Welsh." He told them, not looking up. "Give me a minute to work it out." Harry and Hermione passed the short span of time by packing up their makeshift camp. A quick sweep to make sure they didn't forget anything, and they were back at Ron's side. Moments later, coincidentally, he finished whatever it was he was doing.
"I run with you and I never seem to rest
I am made by all creatures,
But only your type can match the best."
Not a one of them could figure out what it meant, beyond the obvious fact that it was a riddle. The brilliant epiphany came when Hermione declared that the answer to the riddle was probably the means to get through the wall. Harry in particular did little beyond stare at the Welsh inscription, sitting amid the grime on the floor. Hermione wanted to go talk to him, but Ron stopped her.
"Don't. He doesn't like to be disturbed when he gets like this." He explained. She decided to just trust him, since the two men had known each other far longer than Hermione had.
Harry, meanwhile, was no closer to an answer than he had been an hour and a half ago. He was beginning to lose hope that the riddle was even solvable, when a rather large rat scurried down the passageway. Desperate for something else to occupy his time, Harry extended his hand towards the rodent. It, however, had other plans. Plans that did not involve entertaining melancholy wizards apparently, since it bit him soundly on the finger. He gasped in pain, and sealed the small wound quickly with his wand. However one drop had managed to leak out onto his finger and, before he could wipe it away, it fell on the stones before the wall. Both Ron and Hermione, who had been summoned by his noise, were gaping at the wall. A single, indescribably thin crack had opened on the formerly unblemished stretch of stone.
"Blood!" Hermione exclaimed excitedly. "The answer to the riddle! It's blood!" She seemed very pleased with herself, which in itself was a miracle, so Harry neglected to tell her that he had reached that conclusion a moment or two ago. He held the tip of his wand to his palm, steeled himself, and, before his companions could voice their objections, caused a small gash to appear in the flesh. It was bleeding profusely, and he wiped it on the stone before sealing it again. This time there was no indication that he had ever been injured, except for the red smear on the wall that was rapidly being absorbed into the stone. The single crack expanded, becoming a veritable spider web criss-crossing the exposed 'door,' until the shards simply dropped and became a layer of dust on the floor.
Beyond it was a long passageway and, in the distance, what looked like a rather large pit. They collected the few belongings they had with them and set off. About halfway between the exit and what was, by now, unmistakeably a hole cut in the floor, Ron stopped suddenly. Harry and Hermione shot him questioning looks, to which he responded: "I feel like someone just walked on my grave." He and Harry were rather worried about it, but Hermione rationalized that the entire situation was dangerous. Who knew what kind of fiendish traps they would encounter as they penetrated deeper into the ancient castle.
"What's the big deal about Ron being a little nervous?" she asked Harry when they started moving again. He gave her an odd look. "I just don't see the cause for making such a to-do about a hunch."
Harry shrugged. "His hunches are good." If that was answer enough for him, it was certainly not enough for her. However she never got to explore the subject further, because they had arrived at the pit. It was further across than any man could jump, and there were small holes about the diameter of a one-pound coin dotting the walls. Harry pulled another coin out of his pocket, a single Deutsche Mark, and turned to Ron. "Call it." He requested of his friend before flipping the coin into the air. Ron declared tails, but when the coin landed it was displaying the legend of '1 Deutsche Mark.' Ron hung his head, and Harry punched the air triumphantly. Hermione watched with mild amusement as the victor walked over to the pit, looked down, went rigid, and backed up. She was by his side immediately.
"What's wrong?" she asked worriedly. There wasn't an ounce of blood visible in his face. He was afraid, even though he tried not to show it.
He mumbled something to himself, and she leaned in to hear it. "Snakes. Why did it have to be snakes?" She looked over the edge and did indeed see that the bottom of the pit was covered with a writhing serpentine mass.
"What's so bad about snakes?" she asked curiously. Sure they weren't exactly cuddly, but it could have been much worse. Spiders, for instance, which could often be poisonous.
Harry continued to stare as far down the pit as he could from his angle. "Second year, had a nasty experience with a fifty-foot long snake that can kill with a look." He stated simply. Oddly enough it explained everything, and she didn't once feel the need to ask if he was joking. He took a deep breath and stood up. "Alright, we've got to get this over with. I'll go first." He didn't brook any protest as he unhooked his whip and looked for a place to swing off of. The torch sconce on the wall seemed to do nicely. A flick of his arm, and he was flying through the air on the leather cord. He was so engrossed in not falling into the pit of snakes that he failed to realize precisely what those smaller holes in the wall were. Hermione shrieked a warning when she heard the unmistakeable sounds, but it was already too late. Harry's forward momentum carried him clear to the other side where he lay, motionless, with over a dozen thin darts protruding from his side.
"Well, well, look what we have here." An annoyingly high-pitched Welsh voice declared. Hermione spun around, but she and Ron were already securely fastened. More of the damnable magic. It seemed that Travers had caught up with them. While Hermione could not see his face, she had little doubt that he was looking very smug. "I'm so sad that we parted on such bad terms last time, so I'm going to make it up to you." Even to Hermione's naïve ears that sounded bad. It was confirmed when the two found themselves staring down the end of a wand. Travers' wand. "You are going to be my guests at a little party my Lord is throwing together in your honour." The last thing she saw was a jet of red light, then blackness.
***
When she came to she was still bound, but also gagged and sitting on the floor between her new friends. They were in the center of an enormous crowd of people, all dressed in the same robes Travers and Bellatrix had been wearing. Some were tall, some were short, some were fat, tin, male, female, an entire complement of people of all shapes and sizes and ages. They were all laughing, jeering, and pointing at the bound trio. Hermione caught the word 'mudblood' several times, and it didn't sound friendly. "Enough." The voice that echoed around the chamber caused a shiver to go down her spine. The sounds immediately stopped, and the crowd parted along a narrow path. At the far end, on a massive black throne, was the single most frightening thing Hermione Granger had ever seen. He was tall and thin, as pale of skin as anything, with a serpentine nose. There was not even a single wayward strand of hair on his head. His eyes, which were red as fresh blood, had vertical pupils like a cat. He was wearing a long, billowing black robe and fingering a foot-long shaft of yew. "Good morning, Harry Potter."
Hermione glanced over, and Harry was looking at this man in disgust. "Hello Tom." He replied in an even, if slightly curt voice. He was not gagged, she noticed.
Whatever it was, being called tome threw this man into a furious rage. "That name means nothing to me anymore! I am Lord Voldemort!" Hermione would have chuckled, had she not been rather effectively prevented from doing so. Voldemort, vol de mort, flight from death. The name he had obviously given himself spoke volumes about his character.
"The why do you react so strongly to it?" Harry asked innocently. While she admired his aplomb, she had to wonder I it was wise to bait someone who could kill them with barely a moment's thought.
Voldemort took several deep, calming breaths. "I had hoped you would see reason, see that I beat you at every turn, and join me. I see now that I misjudged you."
"Next time you'll know better." Ron interjected seamlessly. He wasn't gagged either. Hermione was beginning to wonder why she was the only one unable to speak.
Voldemort's eyes flashed dangerously, but he otherwise ignored the outburst. "Very well. Lock them up, and continue the search. We will make an example of these three when I possess the Spear." He motioned dismissively with his hand, an a small group of robed figures picked the trio up bodily and hurried them away.
Sorry for the cliffy, but I couldn't resist.
Got the riddles from a Google search. You're welcome to guess the answer to the first one, but I thought it was kind of obvious.
I hope my grammar was right with the translations. I just got the from an online translator, so forgive me if my Greek and Welsh aren't great.