The Labyrinth of Amagor

The Labyrinth of Amagor

Chapter 1: An Invitation to Die

Molly Weasley had come down in her lightest cotton wrapper to make a cup of tea. On this sultry August night, she and Arthur were having difficulty sleeping in the heat. A nice cuppa would be just the thing to send them off. As she passed the living room with her laden tray, she heard soft music, so she put her head around the door to check on the young people - it was half-past-eleven, after all.

They were asleep, all four of them. Hardly surprising, Molly thought, as they had been up early in the morning, out on the lawn, going through the rigorous exercises Harry, Ron and Hermione had brought back with them from their visit to America in the spring. The exercises worked, Molly had to admit, especially on Ron. Her youngest son was now six-foot-four inches of rock-solid bone and muscle; even Fred and George daren't tease him anymore.

Then Molly had set them to dealing with the sadly neglected garden. They had come in for dinner, gone upstairs to use the shower Harry had helped Arthur fit into The Burrow's bathroom during the Easter holiday. Afterward, they had come down (very scantily clad in her opinion, but understandable, mind, because it was so hot) to sit in the living room, listen to music, read and talk. They had also, she suspected, done a fair bit of kissing and cuddling.

She looked at them now and thought, Oh, bless. Hermione lay half-curled on her side on one of the sofas, Ron behind her, enfolding her with his arms. The young couple lay spooned neatly together in the same position Molly and Arthur preferred for sleeping. Harry lay sprawled on his back on the other sofa, while Ginny lay face down, mostly on Harry, under one of his wiry arms. That Muggle music machine was on the coffee table; a plaintive woman's voice moaned of being killed softly with a song.

Molly shook her head, smiling. Ron and Hermione went together like salt and vinegar on chips, of course. Harry and Ginny was more of a surprise. Ginny had had a girlish crush on the Boy Who Lived, everyone knew that, but this was something else. It had started over Easter. Harry had stayed with them for the break, and because Ron had gone to stay with the Grangers and Fred and George lived mostly in London now, Harry and Ginny had spent a good deal of time together. By halfway through the holiday, they had 'officially' become a couple, and the former trio was now a quartet. Molly hoped that these two could make a go of it. She smiled again, and went back to bed.

We must have left the CD player on repeat was Harry's first thought on waking. His second was that it had gone awfully cold for a summer night. Even where Ginny's body lay against his, an unnatural chill was leaching the warmth away. He vaguely remembered dreaming a dream that had recurred occasionally since his return from America. In that dream, someone pounded insistently but uselessly against a wall. He had asked Professor Dumbledore about the dream. Dumbledore had consulted Professor Xavier, and Harry learned that the dream was probably a result of Voldemort trying to penetrate the mental shields Harry had learned to put up during his time at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

Harry's head was clearing fast, and he saw that he not the only one who had awakened. Ginny stirred against him, then heaved herself up, pushing the hair from her face. Ron and Hermione were rousing into a sitting position. "What's going on?" Hermione wondered.

Harry sat up. "Shh!" he said. "Wait and see. Something...something's happening. Nothing really dangerous can get in here, The Burrow is too well protected."

The room grew colder, and a vague shape began to coalesce in front of the fireplace. Harry recognised the gaunt form as it became clearer--the face with its hard, bitter lines, its arrogance and the madness in the red eyes could only be Lord Voldemort!

Ron sprang from the sofa, muscles tensed for battle, to place himself in front of Hermione. Ginny seized Harry's hand in a painful grip. None of them had their wands to hand, and for a moment, they all thought it was the end. Then the figure wavered and flickered - it was a projection or image of some sort.

"Potter." The voice was dry, autocratic, and seemed to come from a distance. "You have become hard to find, boy. Has Dumbledore been teaching his puppy new tricks?"

Harry rose to his feet and faced the spectre directly. "What do you want, Riddle?" he spat out, in the tone he usually reserved for Draco Malfoy. Hermione and Ginny both gasped; even Ron looked shocked.

Anger flared in Voldemort's eyes. "Have you forgotten who you are addressing, boy?" he asked imperiously.

"Oh, I know you, all right. I'm talking to a bitter, twisted, psychotic half-blood called Tom Riddle--a pathetic bully with delusions of adequacy who hasn't even got the balls to meet me face-to-face."

The others clearly didn't believe what they had just heard. Harry could barely believe it himself, but the cold fury that had erupted inside him at Voldemort's appearance here, of all places, would not be contained.

For the shortest moment, Voldemort seemed nonplussed, unable to speak, then he turned icy again. "You may dispense with foolish bravado, Potter. Now, listen well. A mile or so east from here is a ruined building in a hollow. Muggles believe that one of their religious orders built it centuries ago: They are wrong, of course. It is now midnight. If you value the lives of your schoolmates, you and your companions will be there two hours from now.

"Do not think to ask for anyone's aid. Such a course would only hasten the deaths of your friends - and make them even more painful. As it is, you will need all your alleged skills and every available minute to save them." Voldemort's figure vanished, taking the unnatural cold with it.

There was silence for a moment, broken when Hermione said, "I think I'm going to be sick." Ron turned and took her in his arms, she clung to him, they were both trembling, but they drew comfort and strength from each other.

Ginny flung herself into Harry's arms, holding him fiercely and scolding him at the same time, "Harry, what the bloody hell did you think you were doing? You deliberately taunted him. For Merlin's sake, it's one thing to take the piss out of Malfoy, or wind up Snape, but that was He...that was Voldemort."

Harry had been at considerable pains to make all of his friends and allies speak of Voldemort by name. His efforts were succeeding, he noticed. As his anger drained away, he, too, began shaking. He held Ginny close and silenced her with a kiss.

"I was following training," he told her. "Wolverine told us once to taunt enemies, if we could, to get them good and mad. Angry people make mistakes."

"Right," Harry said heavily, speaking to all of the others. "We don't have much time. We have to dress and get out there. Hermione, do you actually need to throw up?"

"I...think I'm all right, now, Harry. D'you think we should put on our uniforms?" Hermione asked, referring to the combat clothing they had been given in America.

Harry considered that idea for a moment, then shook his head. "No. This is a holiday area, so there are going to be Muggle campers and hikers and whatnot all over the place. A lot of them won't have gone to bed yet. We need to look like four ordinary Muggle teenagers, just in case we're spotted. But we should take the communicators in case we get separated. Voldemort can't spy on those. Hermione, give your spare to Ginny; I've shown her how to use it."

"She'll need a call-sign," Ron pointed out.

Harry smiled at Ginny, still clasped in his arms. He stroked her long, flame-red hair. "Firebird, I think. Do you like that, Ginny?"

"Firebird," Ginny repeated, testing the sounds. "Yes, I like that. Firebird it is, Hawk."

"Right then, let's get going."

As they headed towards the stairs, Hermione remembered, "We should leave a note or something."

"You heard him," said Harry. "If we tell anyone, people are going to die. He's probably bluffing, but I'd not like to bet the Weasleys' lives on it."

Ron and Harry made their way up to the room they were sharing. As they changed into sturdier, outdoor clothing, Ron asked, "Harry, weren't you scared, ripping into V...Voldemort like that?"

"Put it this way, Ron, the first thing I changed up here was my underwear."

Ron laughed, "You always do the unexpected, don't you?"

"I try."

In the girls' room, Hermione reached under the bed and pulled out a duffle bag. The single word Charm was stencilled on it in bold black letters. Hermione unzipped the bag and, ignoring the neat roll of black leather clothing, opened an inside pocket, to extract three objects. Two of them were the discreet but sturdy hands-free communicators used by the combat-trained X-Men protégées of Charles Xavier. The other was a small, rectangular device with a single switch on one face. Glancing round to make sure Ginny didn't notice, Hermione slipped the emergency transponder into her jeans pocket. It went against the grain to go behind Harry's back, but Hermione wasn't going to head into danger without at least the possibility of backup. She prayed Voldemort had no way of detecting such signals, and if she had to activate it, at least someone would know there was a problem. She handed a communicator to Ginny and signalled her to follow.

***

At that moment, in an ancient fortress hundreds of miles to the north, Draco Malfoy was levitating a man-sized pillar of crystal.

"Be careful, Draco," Narcissa Malfoy said sharply. "If you drop that, it would be fatal to the prisoner, and we need him alive, at least for now."

"I do know what I'm doing, Mother, though the why remains a mystery."

Narcissa smiled warmly at her son. Unlike Lucius, she couldn't simply order Draco to do anything. Recently, Draco had begun to show an utter contempt for anyone female. "I've told you, darling," Narcissa wheedled, "nobody over the age of eighteen can enter the Labyrinth, even from this end. If this works - and it will - Potter will no longer be a threat to anyone. In fact, you may have him as a plaything, if you want."

With his back turned to his mother, Draco rolled his eyes. Did she still think he had any interest in that kind of play? Draco had no taste for the physical activities that increasingly absorbed the attention of his schoolmates. What he craved was power. Gaining it in secret, wielding it from the shadows - that was how real satisfaction could be had. Sex, of any kind, could not come close to equalling that thrill.

Unbeknownst to Narcissa, Draco had read the parchment that shared his pocket with an hourglass and a vial of potion. He knew that this task, however menial in appearance, was bringing him closer to a centre of power, giving him knowledge he might be able to use later. He began to guide the pillar though the portal.

Narcissa watched him work. Draco had improved a great deal lately, but she would have given much to have a son as talented as the Potter boy. Draco was so like Lucius, she thought, but even colder, if that were possible. Narcissa's marriage had been arranged to join the ancient houses of Black and Malfoy. The Malfoys had done their duty in producing an heir. But after that task was accomplished, well, Lucius had his mistresses, and she had her lovers, and as long as they were discreet, who was to care? But Draco...Draco showed no interest in either girls or boys; he seemed dead from the waist down. Narcissa had even obtained 'professional' help - a compliant Nymph - to no avail. Draco was a problem to look into later.

The boy had completed his task, so Narcissa sent him back by Portkey to Malfoy Manor. Now came the difficult part: she, Number Two of the Knights of Walpurgis, had to act the loyal subordinate to their pawn, Lord Voldemort. She allowed herself a private smile. Voldemort saw only two possible outcomes for this plan: Either Potter would perish in the Labyrinth or he would remove himself from the board when faced with the final dilemma.

Narcissa was more subtle; she had other ideas. Potter was a powerful young Wizard, resourceful and clever. The Labyrinth was unlikely to overcome him. As for the final dilemma, it was Narcissa's hope that Potter would prove ruthless enough to stay in the game. That action would prove him to be a better choice for the Knights than that disgusting madman Voldemort. Narcissa felt a quiver of sensual anticipation. She had not abandoned her plan to tempt Harry Potter into her bed, a 'sacrifice' she was more than willing to make - in a higher cause, of course.

For now, though, she rearranged her face into the expression of subjection tinged with fear that Voldemort liked to see, and made her way down into the bowels of the fortress. She found Voldemort in the great central chamber, watching the Muggle at work. The green glow that surrounded the object Voldemort sought was as bright and deadly as ever. The Muggle was a silhouette against the light, working steadily on his bizarre devices. Narcissa waited dutifully until Voldemort deigned to address her.

"Well?"

"All is ready, Master. The prisoner, the note and the other things are placed as you commanded. I have sent the boy away."

"Good. One way or another, I will be free of this prophecy."

"Yes, Master. What progress here?"

"It seems the other Muggle we captured was correct. The deadly light is what he called 'gamma radiation'. This American Muggle knows much of this energy, and should be able to penetrate the ring for us in due course. The Imperious Curse slows him, of course, and he is surprisingly resistant. But, within days, life unending will be mine!

Voldemort paused, eyes looking beyond Narcissa. When he remembered she was there, he said, "Begone! Look to our defences. Dumbledore must know that Salazar's Keep has been opened. We should expect the Order to make an attempt upon us soon."

***

The four teenagers made their way through the warm, bright summer night. Ron and Ginny knew the area well. As children, they had played in and around the ruin Voldemort had mentioned. To the casual observer, they looked like any four kids out for a romantic midnight stroll; a keen observer might have noticed that they walked rather quickly, without the usual amorous interludes.

Harry was trying to stay sharp, something the familiar icy rage that still surged through him helped him to do. They were walking into a trap, that much he didn't need Ron's strategic brain to tell him. Voldemort had told him his friends' lives depended on his cooperation, once again using danger to friends as a lever to bend him. Well and good, but that meant his friends had to be there, which also meant he could free them: and that meant that his friends might be able to help him. Harry had come to realise that his friends had their own strengths, that none of them lacked courage, and that they were as loyal to him as he was to them.

Harry's time with the X-Men had taught him how much could be achieved by a team working together. During the summer term, he, Ron and Hermione had re-formed Dumbledore's Army to pass on the skills they had learned in America. If Voldemort thought that Harry would have to face any threat alone, or burdened with helpless dead weights, the self-styled Dark Lord was very wrong indeed!

Take Ginny, for instance. She was beside him now, her arm round his waist, his around her shoulders. They seldom held hands, as Ginny preferred as much physical contact as the situation allowed. Part of Harry had wanted to persuade her to stay at The Burrow, but he knew better. She would not have stayed; there would have been a row; time would have been wasted. Ginny was brave, determined and fierce - as much a born fighter as Ron. For his own part, Harry needed her at his side. He loved her as passionately as she loved him, but that did not give him the right to decide things like this for her.

Ahead of them, Ron and Hermione suddenly stopped. As Harry and Ginny drew up to them, Ron said quietly, "This is as close as we can get to the ruin without being seen from it. How are we for time?"

Harry consulted the watch Kitty Pryde had given him as a parting gift. "We've about an hour till deadline. We should do a recon.

"Hunter, take the opposite quadrant; Charm, go left, Firebird right. I'll take this one. Set the communicators to Tactical One. Meet back here in forty-five minutes. Report back if you spot anyone, but avoid contact."

Hermione grinned, "D'you know how much like Cyclops you sound?"

"I'll take that as a compliment, thank you. Now move on, and let's be careful out there."

They slipped into the woods, silent as ghosts. This was a new experience for Ginny, and she suddenly saw the uses of the training Harry, Ron and Hermione had insisted she learn. She and the other members of Dumbledore's Army had understood and been eager for more of Harry's Defence Against the Dark Arts training, but the other stuff had caused some puzzlement. Ron, her easy-going big brother, had turned into a grim-faced martinet, putting them all through a gruelling regimen of physical exercise, turning the Room of Requirement into a fully stocked Muggle gym. Ginny had to admit, she felt better for it: she was stronger, and it had done wonders for her figure. All three of them had given instruction in various styles of unarmed combat - something almost unknown in the Wizarding world.

But it was Hermione, light-footed and always poised, who had taught Ginny to move like this. She glided through the woods now, placing her feet with care, watching the shadows with the edges of her eyes, listening for unnatural sounds. If the Death Eaters had set an ambush, she would sense it well in advance. The Muggle device that nestled over her ear, the small microphone extending down her cheek, was another edge. Ginny knew how to use it, but had no clue as to how or why it worked, and neither would Voldemort (she forced herself to think the name); he would be unlikely to intercept messages sent through it.

Harry covered his quadrant quickly and thoroughly. There was nothing out of the ordinary, no lurking enemies. Now he waited against the trunk of a tree, overlooking a small hollow. At the centre of the hollow was what looked like a ruined chapel. No one was near it, but a pearly glow shone from inside, casting bizarre shadows over the grass. What was going on here?

"Hunter to Hawk, all clear. I'm coming in."

"Copy. Charm, Firebird, anything?"

"Nothing."

"All clear."

Shortly afterward, Ron appeared soundlessly at Harry's shoulder. "I'm out of practice," he said ruefully. "You didn't jump."

Harry shook his head. "You didn't make any noise, Ron. I felt you coming."

Ron frowned. "It happened again, didn't it?"

"Yes. For God's sake, don't tell Ginny or Hermione; they'd go frantic."

Professor Xavier had discovered that Harry had a latent telepathic ability. Harry thought it might be a twisted inheritance from his childhood encounter with the powerful Legilimens Voldemort. Mind reading had provided Voldemort with a way to spy on Harry until he'd learned to shield his mind. After a mental duel with the telepathic villain Emma Frost, Harry had experienced occasional mental flashes. Ron was the only one Harry felt he could trust with this information.

Ron said, "You're going to have to talk to Professor Xavier about it sometime, Harry. If it starts to happen more often or gets stronger, you'll need to learn to control it."

"I know. I'm relying on you to tell me when that time comes, mate." Harry sighed. The conversation ended there, as Hermione and Ginny appeared out of the shadows.

Harry glanced at his watch. "Right. It looks like we've no choice except to go in there. We go into the hollow openly and approach the ruin along this path. Keep your wands out and try to look like scared kids. We want Voldemort to underestimate us."

He paused a moment to study their faces. "Look, we're heading into trouble, again. As usual, we don't know if we're going to come out of it. So, I just want to say this, because I always forget to: Thanks, all of you. I couldn't ask for better friends. You're the nearest I've got to a family, and that means a lot to me. Just let's do our best to stay alive down there, OK?"

There was a silence, then Ginny stepped into Harry's arms and held him tight as they kissed. All four of them exchanged brief hugs, then they started down into the hollow, As they went, Hermione reached into her pocket and flipped the switch on her transponder.

Harry led the way directly to the archway that had once contained the door to the ruin. The four looked inside, and received a shock.

Whatever was beyond the door was not the roofless interior of the ruin. Here was a stone chamber, quite large, floor and walls covered with carvings. In the centre of the room, a half-dozen figures stood in stiff and unnatural poses.

"Oh, Merlin!" Hermione whispered. "There's Neville and Lavender--Seamus, too."

"I see them," Harry said through gritted teeth. "The Patils and Luna, as well. What's going on?"

The air around them went cold, again. Harry spun, raising his wand. Once more, he confronted a flickering projection of Voldemort. "Back again, Riddle?" Harry taunted, the familiar icy flame of rage blazing up in him again, "Why don't you just face me, one-on-one? Still haven't found your spine, eh?"

Oh God, Harry! Don't, please, Ginny thought desperately. This was a side of Harry that scared her badly. He was going to get himself killed one of these days, and Ginny didn't want to be there to see it.

When he's like this, he could almost BE Voldemort, Hermione marvelled, and that thought made her even colder than Voldemort's magical chill.

Go for it, Harry! Ron thought at his friend.

"Enough of your childish insults, Potter." Voldemort seemed in better control of himself this time. "Now pay heed. In moments, the ceiling of yonder chamber will begin to descend. It is up to the four of you to find the way to stop it before your friends are crushed.

"But be warned, once you pass the portal, there is no return by this path. Your only escape will be through the Labyrinth of Amagor, and if you fail the test, your lives will be forfeit.

"Now Potter, are you strong enough to let these others die, knowing your life to be more valuable than theirs? Or are you a weakling like Dumbledore, willing to risk yourself for those lesser than yourself?"

"You've got a twisted idea of strength and weakness, Riddle," snarled Harry. "Now, if you're done, piss off. I'm busy."

Voldemort began to laugh. It started out as a mocking chuckle, but then escalated into the high, shrieking cackle of a madman. "Go, fool!" he howled. "Die, and all your friends with you!" His form vanished.

From inside the ruin, a rumbling sound began. The four dashed to the door, seeing the stone ceiling inching down towards their friends. "In--now!" barked Harry. They dashed through the archway, felt a sudden Portkey-like disorientation, and the lights went out.

For a moment, Harry felt blind panic. He got a grip of himself and said, "Lumos!" In the glow from the tip of his wand, Harry saw that he was in the chamber with the descending ceiling--the chamber that held his trapped friends. Then Hermione conjured a floating globe of white light, which rose to the ceiling and illuminated the entire room. The ceiling was coming down with steady inevitability.

"There's a door over here," called Ron, "but it's sealed. I'll bet it won't open until we've stopped the ceiling."

Ginny was examining their friends. "They're alive, but in some kind of trance," she reported. "We won't have time to rouse them before we all get flattened."

"Shh!" ordered Hermione. "Let me think."

She was standing in the centre of the room, studying the floor. "There's writing here. It says: Here is the beginning of your journey. Here also it may end. Reduce the conundrum to its elements. What does that mean?" Hermione's eyes swept the chamber. "All of you, look around--look at the pictures and carvings. Anything to do with...with elements."

It was Harry who found it. There was a circle inlaid in the floor, and at four equally spaced points, there were symbols he recognised: Earth, Air, Fire and Water, the Four Elements. The symbols were slightly raised. Hermione ran across and stood on the Earth symbol. It sank into the floor with a soft click. She nodded.

"Right! Ginny, you're Fire; Ron, Water. Harry, you'd better be Air!"

They did as directed. The Fire symbol acted as the Earth one had done, but the Air and Water ones did nothing. Hermione frowned and muttered to herself.

Ginny looked across. "That couldn't have worked, anyway, Hermione. Harry and I are the same sign."

Harry suddenly grasped Hermione's thinking; she was a Virgo - an Earth sign, Ron was Pisces - Water. But both he and Ginny were Leos -Fire signs. They were short an Air sign, but that didn't explain why Ron had been unable to activate the Water symbol. Hermione was clearly racking her brains.

Ron shifted uncomfortably. "Er, I'm a bit closer to the ceiling than the rest of you. Anybody mind if I start panicking early?"

Ginny giggled in spite of herself. "I'll start to panic when you lose your sense of humour, Ron!"

Hermione looked up. "Humour? Humour! Of course, it's so simple! I must be losing what's left of my mind. Harry, Ron, switch places."

They obeyed, and this time both symbols sank into the floor. The ceiling came to a halt, and then slowly rose to its original height. Harry stepped carefully off the Water symbol. Nothing happened. The four of them met in the middle of the circle, exchanging congratulatory hugs.

"OK, Hermione," said Ron, "dazzle us with the explanation of how you saved our skins this time."

She leaned back against him, and he wrapped his arms round her. Ginny nestled into Harry again as he dropped an arm around her shoulders.

"It's First Year Potions," she told them. "D'you remember Snape talking about the Alchemists? The Four Humours and the Four Fluids? Well, the Fluids are linked to the Elements as well as to star signs. Everybody knows about astrology, but how many people know about the Humours?"

Harry nodded. "I remember now, something about people being Phlegmatic or Choleric or whatever?"

"Exactly. I stood on Earth because I'm a Virgo, and put Ginny on Fire as a Leo, and that's what threw me at first. I activated the symbol because I'm phlegmatic, which is also earthy. Ginny is choleric, of course...."

"No shit, Sherlock," muttered Harry, then yelped as Ginny pinched his bum, hard.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "When you two have quite finished! Anyway, Ginny made that comment about humour, so I realised what the key was, and that you two were on the wrong symbols. Ron is sanguine, so he needed to be on Air." Hermione's eyes softened, and she reached forward to lightly touch Harry on the cheek. "You had to go on Water, Harry, because you, my poor dear, are definitely melancholic!"

She snuggled back into Ron. "I'm sorry I took so long to work it out. This love machine of mine must have bonked one too many of my brains out!"

"Can I help it if this woman is insatiable?" asked Ron of the world in general.

"I think," said Harry firmly, "that that comes under the heading of too much information!"

Just at that moment, Neville groaned and staggered, clutching at his head. The others also stirred, looking around in confusion, muttering, "What? Where?" Lavender saw Neville. She flung herself into his arms. Harry and the others began questioning the former captives.

"I got an Owl," explained Seamus. "It was from you, Harry. At least, it looked like your writing, and the bird delivering it looked just like Hedwig. It said to Floo to the Leaky Cauldron to meet you there on DA business and not to tell anyone. I remember setting out, then I was here. That's all I know."

The others told pretty much the same story. It seemed that Voldemort not only knew about Dumbledore's Army, but also knew enough about Harry to create an imitation Hedwig. Somebody at Hogwarts must have been spying.

"Snape, I'll bet," Ron growled.

"No," said Harry, somehow certain of that fact. However unpleasant the Potions Master might be personally, Harry did not see him as Voldemort's lapdog. "Not Snape. Malfoy, or one of his lot, I'd say. The whole school's one big gossip shop; all he'd have to do is keep his ears open and write to his parents, who surely work for Voldemort. Anyway, the Army isn't very secret anymore.

"We can think about that another time. Right now, we have to find out where we are, and how to get out of here," Harry concluded.

"Over here," called Padma Patil. "There's writing on this door."

"That wasn't there before," Ron said firmly. "It must have been charmed to appear only if the first trap were avoided."

They clustered around the writing. The bold, golden letters read: Enter the Labyrinth of Amagor. Here shall your worth be tested. Here it shall be shown if you have learned from the teachings of your Masters. Here shall you learn if you be pure and brave of heart or false and cowardly. Enter now, and face the guile and the minions of Amagor.

Ron reached out to push lightly on the door. It edged open. "Well, at least the way forward is open," Ron said cheerfully.

"Voldemort didn't make this place," Luna pointed out. "It's ancient. He must have discovered it. I wonder who built it, and why?"

"It's a testing ground," Harry surmised. "A place where Wizards--or someone--were tested to see if they measured up. I've never heard of any such place, though."

"I wonder...." Hermione tapped a finger on her lips, studying the inscription. "I've a horrible suspicion this may be how Wizards were tested in the days before O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s."

"Give me the N.E.W.T.s any day," Parvati quipped, getting a general laugh.

"Well," said Neville, "at least we have an idea of where we are. Unfortunately, nobody else does."

"Er, that may not be quite true," said Hermione with a grimace. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the transponder, holding it up so they could all see the red light blinking steadily. "I'm sorry, Harry. I know you said not to tell anyone, but I thought this would be safe. I switched it on as we came down into the hollow."

She looked apprehensively at Harry, expecting a severe ticking off, but instead, Harry did something that was still new enough to surprise her. He stepped forward and gave her a quick hug. "Hermione, you are so predictable. I knew you'd do something like this."

Harry stepped back and reached into his own pocket. "Snap," he said, holding up an identical active transponder. As Hermione stared, Ron leaned forward and produced his device. He grinned. "As Sam might say, we're three for three."

"Well, that's something, anyway," said Harry, "but I'll bet the signal stopped when we entered here. They'll only be able to trace us as far as the ruin. Unless the portal is still open, they can't follow us. We have to assume we're on our own.

"Looks like the only way out is through. So, that's where we're going. By the look of things, it's not going to be friendly in there. Hermione, you and Neville take point; Ron and Seamus, watch our backs. Stay close, everyone, and--" Harry stopped suddenly, his eyes widening.

Harry? Are you there? Harry?

"Kitty?" he gasped.

Someone did know where they were.

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