Under A Clouded Sun

Chapter Five : Reflections and Reality

By Arianrhod.

Harry nearly fell. He was met by himself. And himself. And himself again. His own image stared back at him from all directions, looking pale and frightened. It took nearly half a minute for him to collect his fear-dulled wits and realise that he was facing a hall of mirrors.

* * *

As Hermione knelt in the glittering sand, trying to figure out what to do next, Gabrielle quite unexpectedly woke up. She frowned, confused, at the two faces that looked down at her, then seemed to place them.

She sat up, still frowning. When neither Draco nor Hermione moved, she jumped to her feet in exasperation and tried to tug Draco, who was closer, to his feet. One look from him stopped her but she began to gesticulate wildly. The only gesture her watchers were able to understand was frequent pointing at the castle. Finally she knelt again and traced a word in the diamond sand. Fleur. It was the first time she'd been able to communicate anything of substance and it was clearly difficult for her. Hermione wondered what it meant.

"Fleur's in the castle?" she hazarded.

Gabrielle nodded vigorously then tried to pull Hermione this time, tugging hard on her sleeve.

"And you want us to go there?" More nods.

"Wonderful. We get to take Saint Potter's role of saving damsels in distress."

"Shut up Malfoy." Hermione was frowning. If they were going to go all the way to the castle, something needed to be done about Ron's injured ankle. "I wish I could conjure stretchers." She muttered to herself, thinking of how Snape had dealt with them in third year.

She felt Draco's eyes on her and looked up. He was smiling. Draco whispered a spell and, with a flick of his wand, a stretcher appeared. Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he floated Ron onto the stretcher, which drifted obediently to his side.

She glared him. "Why didn't you tell me you could conjure stretchers?" she demanded.

"Because you never asked," he answered, his smile changing to a smirk. She wished he would look away. His gaze was making her uncomfortable.

She wondered how he knew that spell; they hadn't covered it in their lessons and it hardly seemed the kind of spell Lucius Malfoy would teach his son. Then she realised, belatedly, that Quidditch captains were required to learn the most basic medi-magic. Unfortunately, this didn't extend to broken bones since with the stretcher any injured student could get from the Quidditch pitch to the Hospital wing in a matter of minutes. Draco was still watching her and she felt something else was necessary. "Thank you," she said quietly but clearly, raising her chin defiantly, daring him to laugh or gloat. He did neither. With a gracious dip of his head, he accepted her thanks and they began to walk again.

After a minute she stopped. "We're not getting anywhere."

Draco nodded soberly. "I know."

There was a moment's silence. Draco appeared to be thinking. "There's something holding us back, making us feel that we're moving when we're not getting any closer. It might let me through on my own." He walked a little way ahead.

Hermione glanced at Ron. He tried to grin feebly but he was evidently as anxious as she was, and he was in pain. Hermione knew he had to be suffering badly to have accepted help from Draco without complaint.

Draco returned, looking vaguely relived. "Okay, I think we can make it to the castle now that we've got Gabrielle. If you walk in single file behind me, I'll be allowed through and so will you." He and Hermione had been walking shoulder to shoulder, Draco floating the stretcher next to him, while Gabrielle's hand rested on Hermione's arm. Now they moved so that Gabrielle was standing directly behind Draco. Draco placed Ron behind her and Hermione stood behind the stretcher, intending to guide it herself, until she realised with annoyance that it wasn't her spell. It wasn't as though Draco would be likely to trust her with his wand, leaving him defenceless and giving her two weapons.

She was so surprised when he handed it to her that she dropped it. The wand hit the ground with clatter and lay on the rock between them. Thirteen inches of silver birch, encasing a dragon's heartstring separated them, but it felt like so much more. He looked up, unblinking, into her troubled eyes.

"Pick it up. You need to use it to control the stretcher."

"But... it's your wand." His eyebrow quirked up and she felt a flush of anger that he could find innuendo in something so important.

"Yes. It is."

"You trust me walking behind you with your wand?"

He smiled. "Pick it up."

"But aren't you afraid that I'll.... hex you or something?"

"No. You're a Gryffindor."

He makes it sound so dirty, she thought, but at the same time she realised that he was demonstrating great faith in her. When she still made no move to take it, he bent and picked it up. He took her reluctant hand and pressed the wand into it, closing her fingers around the smooth wood. She tensed away, confused.

Turning, they saw that Gabrielle was crouched next to Ron's stretcher. They were both looking at the exchange with interest, but not disgust. Hermione felt herself blush as Ron met her eyes and raised his eyebrows. She saw Gabrielle giggling slightly and then saw that her red-haired friend had twisted to stare at Draco. There was a challenge in his look, but Draco's expression never changed and it was Ron who had to look away.

Hermione wondered what Harry would have said if he'd been there and instantly pushed that thought aside. She remembered the revulsion on his face when he asked her if she trusted Draco. She knew Harry would never accept Draco and she couldn't bear to think of loosing one of her best friends.

Draco took his place and they began to move more purposefully. They were all tired and walking against the force keeping them away was as hard as walking into high wind, but just being able to see that they were making progress was enough to give them a little energy.

* * *

Harry's head spun. There had to be a door, there had to be a way out, a way through. He turned and tried to work out the dimensions of this mirrored room. He though it was quite small but the mirrors covered every surface, set at different angles so that they reflected the reflections and seemed to make his image go on forever.

He carefully laid his hand on the cold glass, his real hand meeting its reflection. Slowly, he began to walk towards what he hoped was the exit at the other end of the room. His hand on the cold glass helped him keep a grip on what was reality and what was reflected. The images of himself all around made him feel jumpy. Glancing around constantly made walking forward even harder, but he couldn't help himself.

Every time Harry turned his reflected movements made him feel that he was being followed. Doppelgangers were visible as dark flickers from the corners of his eyes, constantly disappearing, only to reappear metres away. He knew his nerves were making him see things and that he had to pull himself together.

He also knew he was too tired to be doing this. He kept thinking that he saw other people's reflections instead of his own. His mother, his father, Hermione, Ron, Sirius and Ginny glanced at him from the mirrors, worried and ghostly, confusing him further. It was too often Ginny he saw. He refused to let his mind rest on her, rest on that kiss...so sweet a memory would bring him to his knees in this place. He fervently hoped that she'd found Sirius and told Dumbledore what was happening. The idea that he was here without the chance of help or back up was not appealing. But most of all, he hoped she was safe.

Harry realised he'd been wrong when he'd thought the room was small when in fact it was quite long and somewhat curved, more like a corridor. Its dimensions had been warped by the reflections. He had to get on, had to make it to door he could see in a few of the mirrors.

He looked down at the bracelet longingly but the door up ahead was proof that he didn't need it. Somehow he knew that finding his way through the mirrors was something he had to do without the help of the bracelet.

Why doesn't Voldemort just let me come to him after he's let me come so far? He could have stopped me before now, but he hasn't, why not? He became aware that a pain in his scar was building up. Despite the deep, throbbing, ache that made thought difficult one idea broke through. Voldemort was playing with him, as surely and as cruelly as a cat plays with a mouse before killing it. Harry glared at the air around him, sure that the Dark Lord was watching him from somewhere and laughing.

Suddenly, he stumbled and when he looked up the door was ahead of him. It was plain, just dark wood with a large handle. Harry took one last look at his myriads of reflections and put his hand on the handle. He doubted Voldemort would be behind this door. If he were then the ache in his head would be stronger, Harry knew. Still, as he opened the door he shook his head uneasily, feeling eyes on him. Cruel, red eyes.

* * *

Red eyes were fixed on the water in the bowl. Fixed on the dark haired, bespectacled boy who could be seen there.

"Master?" Wormtail asked tentatively.

There was no reply. Voldemort was watching Harry's image like a snake eyes his approaching dinner.

"Can you see him, Master?"

"Yes, Wormtail," Voldemort's words seemed to hiss his satisfaction. "Yes, I can see him. And he's coming, little fool."

The servant's eyes flicked nervously to where Fleur Delacour was sitting, bound to a chair, her mouth gagged, her beautiful eyes sparking alarm.

* * *

They had to stop when they reached the castle's looming walls. Draco turned to Hermione, raising an eyebrow quizzically.

"There's no entrance from outside."

She set her jaw stubbornly. "That doesn't matter. Ron's bracelet will open it."

He nodded without a word, as he watched Hermione take the stretcher right up to the wall and then help Ron stand. The red-haired boy's face was pale and he was biting his lip but he laid a steady hand on the glassy wall and glanced at Hermione. She explained the idea she'd been turning over in her head as they crossed the grey rock and sparkling diamond sand. She had been considering Morgan's words in the Gryffindor Hall and had come to the decision that the bracelet would make doors appear that weren't ordinarily there.

Ron nodded thoughtfully and considered a moment. "By the bracelet of Gryffindor, I demand to be let in. I command you to form a doorway."

Hermione shivered. It didn't sound like Ron's voice speaking those words. It sounded older and more responsible, seeming to almost resonate with the weight of ages. But she was distracted the next moment as Ron swayed dangerously and would have fallen had she not caught his arm in time. They both looked up at the door that had formed in the wall in front of them.

* * *

Sirius let the invisibility cloak slide to the floor once they were inside the safety of Dumbledore's office.

Dumbledore smiled briefly but his face was worried. He knew Sirius wouldn't have come to him unless the situation was desperate. The rest of the staff had already reported the strange wind and thunder to him and Madame Pomfrey had been waiting for him when he returned to Hogwarts to show him the doorway.

"I've already contacted the Aurors, Sirius. They'll be here in an hour at the outside." His face was grave, as if he too wished the Aurors would arrive sooner.

"Professor, I want to go after them." Sirius's voice was determined, his face set.

There was a silence. Dumbledore regarded him thoughtfully. Ginny and Elizabeth stood at the back of the room, all but forgotten by the two men.

The Headmaster shook his head sadly and spread his hands. "I can't stop you, you're not my student anymore."

Sirius looked relieved.

"But don't let yourself be seen. You're still a convict remember and there are plenty of people here who remember you from before..." Azkaban. The unspoken word seemed to hang between them.

Sirius swallowed. "Ginny and Elizabeth brought James's," he said, his voice breaking slightly, before he corrected himself, "Harry's, they brought Harry's invisibility cloak for me. I'm used to using it. I won't be heard." Again he had to stop to fight the painful flood of memories, even those that were based on happier times.

"I know. Be careful." Dumbledore's voice was heavy.

Ginny and Elizabeth came forward to stand next to him and Dumbledore's eyes flicked to them. "You two are not to follow. No," he held up a hand to ward off their protests. "It's bad enough that four of my students are already in danger, without you two joining them."

Both girls knew better then to argue with Dumbledore. They lapsed into a rather sullen silence.

Sirius swept the cloak up around his shoulders, giving the strange impression of his head floating along with the part of his chest that could be seen. He reached out, his hand appearing from the air to shake Dumbledore's warmly. "I'll just try and help hold things off until the Aurors get there." Dumbledore nodded. He didn't mention the other name that was in his mind, brought into sharp focus by Sirius's mention of James. Peter. He knew the same name was in Sirius's mind and that he was trying to block it out, telling himself that helping Harry was more important then settling old scores. But the name was there and both men knew it.

Then Sirius swirled the cloak over his head and vanished completely. The girls left with him, one ahead to open doors, one behind to stop anyone walking in to him.

Dumbledore frowned at their retreating backs; he hoped they would do as they were told. Had it been Harry or his friends he would have doubted it, but he had always had the impression that Ginny and Elizabeth were quite meek. Famous last words? He pushed that thought away, there was no reason to think of last words now. No reason at all, he reassure himself. The Aurors will be here soon. God, they have to be here soon.

* * *

They slunk through the shadowed corridors of the fortress, with Ron limping along on a muffled crutch that Hermione had asked Draco specifically to conjure. She had been annoyed to discover that he knew many spells that she did not.

There was no one about. The utter stillness of the corridors unsettled Hermione. Surely there should be guards around? she wondered, suddenly convinced they were being led into a trap.

Hearing the noise of plates and cutlery, the clink of crystal and the low rumble of voices, she shot a glance at Draco. He put his finger to his lips, motioning for absolute quiet. Both she and Ron nodded to show that they understood and followed him closer closely ?, Gabrielle not far behind them. Eventually they found themselves peering into a lengthy hall. Down the centre of the room were a hundred or so Death Eaters, seated at a long table, evidently eating their evening meal.

They were so close that Hermione felt sure the thudding of her heart would give them away. She could barely breath for fear of discovery and could not move until she felt Draco's hand on her arm, gently drawing her away. Suddenly Hermione felt Draco freeze at her side. She lifted her head and to her horror saw several very large Death Eaters making their way towards the dining hall. There was simply nowhere to hide and within a second they had been seen.

Two sets of rough hands grabbed Hermione and Ron, twisting their arms down in front of them and conjuring magical bond around their wrists and ankles before relieving them of their wands and lifting them as though they weighed nothing.

Gabrielle was bound by a different Death Eater who, with a low chuckle, carried her off to a different part of the fortress. She looked at Hermione and Ron, stricken, unable to even scream.

But Draco was left unharmed and unbound. In fact, the Death Eaters seemed to be giving him wide berth, clearly surprised to see him.

"We didn't know you were coming, sir. You didn't tell anybody," said the only one who was not holding a hostage. There was clearly an unasked question about the purpose of his visit and Draco's choice of companions.

"No," Draco agreed unhelpfully. He drew himself up and faced down their slight suspicion with Malfoy arrogance. "Put them in the upper cells. Where's Father?" he demanded.

"With the Master, sir."

The Death Eater nodded for Hermione and Ron to be taken away and Hermione had to twist around to see Draco walking, perfectly at his ease, into the midst of his father's Death Eater friends, inquiring about their families or how a bad back had healed. She felt a bitter wave of betrayal flood her, masking everything, even fear at their situation or worry for Gabrielle. She shut her eyes. She didn't want to see anymore.

* * *

Harry found himself in a white room, facing two doors. They were identical, dark wood with black handles. But, which one to take?

Almost past caring, he stumbled forward and was surprised to come up against a wall of white fire which suddenly shot out up around him. Despite the flames, both door were clear in every detail.

"Choose."

The command was a quiet hiss. Harry shook his head, not sure if he had imagined the voice when it came again.

"You have to choose which door before you reach them, Potter. One leads to death, the other leads, eventually, to Lord Voldemort. On the other hand, you might say they were one and the same thing, although the door that leads to death would be quicker."

Harry looked around and saw the speaker. It was the woman who had pursued him through his nightmares. According to Morgan, she was the guardian of this place. She was standing within the circle of white fire that surrounded him.

When he looked at her she laughed suddenly. Harry's scar shot bright needles of pain into his head and he knew why, for she had Voldemort's laugh. He wasn't sure if the laughter was at his look or at her last words but it made his head ring and he wished she would stop.

The pain seemed to be making him slow and he couldn't quite grasp what she had said. One door led to death, the other would take him to Voldemort, similar fates with even more similar entries.

"But they look exactly the same." He hadn't been aware that he'd spoken his thoughts aloud until the woman answered him.

"Of course they do. It's a risk, a big risk. But is it a risk you're willing to take?"

His first thought would have been to say that of course it was but then he felt cold doubt seeping in, like damp. Two doors. So, I have a fifty-fifty chance of surviving the next few minutes, he thought and shivered.

He looked around for somewhere he could use the bracelet. The fire prevented him reaching the wall, but maybe if he could get rid of it... he cautiously stretched out his hand then drew it back quickly. The fire was far hotter then he'd expected. He wouldn't be able to get the bracelet anywhere near the searing flames.

Next he turned his attention to the floor. Could he make a trapdoor there? But even if he did, it would be going in the wrong direction. Voldemort was ahead of him, not below.

"That's right. The only way to him is through one of those doors." Harry was unsettled by the strange woman's habit of seeming to read his mind. "Unless..." She watched with evident sardonic amusement as Harry strained towards the faint hope her voice seemed to offer. "Unless you want to turn back. That door is always open to you."

Harry felt his heart sink. So much for the third option. It was the doors ahead of him then, the right or the left. He wondered if there was some kind of logic to it, Voldemort's wand hand for example, or his own. Then he dismissed the idea, as impossible. No, it would be haphazard. Just a random choice, based on nothing important, determining his fate. He might have known it would come to something like this. It seemed fitting, giving Cedric's death

The guardian's stare unnerved him slightly but he put it out of his mind. He wondered if Voldemort would be disappointed if he chose the wrong door. Surely the Dark Lord would not have allowed him to get so far if he did not mean to face him. This was merely entertainment for him. Harry had no doubt that those eyes were on him, watching him through some shadow. He could almost feel them.

But if Voldemort means to face me, maybe whichever door I go through will be the right one, he thought. Maybe it's not fixed, maybe it depends on me. Maybe they're both right.

It made sense, but didn't comfort Harry much. After all, he was guessing with his life. Just because he thought Voldemort wanted to face him didn't mean he was right. This is just to scare me, he reassured himself. But what if this was Voldemort's way of getting rid of him? What if both doors were wrong?

Harry tried to shake thoughts like that from his head. He took a deep breath and made a random decision. "Left," he whispered.

The guardian simply nodded, no emotion showing on her face, no clue as to whether or not he'd made the right decision. His eyes darted to the open door behind him, leading out, leading home. But then he fixed them ahead; he would not give Voldemort the satisfaction of seeing his doubts.

* * *

Lucius sat watching his master across the wide desk. The desk was empty apart from the silver dish that Voldemort was looking into and a small glass bottle that was filled with a swirling, pulsing white light. Inside was Gabrielle's voice and those other things that had been taken from her, like the memory of what her message had been. Voldemort was not careless; he wanted no chance that she could even write her message down.

Wormtail hovered in the background, constantly attentive to his master's needs, expecting a sharp blow for his efforts at any moment.

"He comes, Lucius. Like a moth to the flame, he comes to his death." The voice was a sibilant hiss.

"You think he knows, My Lord?" There was a cruel light in Lucius' grey eyes

"Oh, I think he knows. He doesn't care, so great is his hatred. Subconsciously he wants to face me again. He craves my defeat. He wants to know that the threat to those he loves is over."

Lucius nodded.

"Ah yes, Lucius. He is a good person. I like good people, they are so easy to manipulate."

There was a knock on the door before Lucius could reply. Voldemort motioned for Lucius to answer it without taking his own eyes from the image of Harry. "See to it, Lucius." Wormtail looked faintly offended that something he saw as his duty was being usurped but he wisely kept his mouth closed.

The Death Eater behind the door was one Lucius could vaguely remember seeing but not one he knew by name.

"Yes?" he asked testily, knowing that Lord Voldemort did not like to be kept waiting.

The Death Eater motioned for one behind him to bring something forward. Gabrielle, bound hand and foot, floated in on the Death Eater's command. "She turned up a few minutes ago." The little girl's eyes were overflowing with tears but she cried silently, unable to make a sound.

"Good, put her next to her sister. We have little need for them now Potter's here."

The Death Eater motioned for the other man to do as he was told and then turned back, diffident. "Um...she...there were others with her, sir," he finally managed. "Potter's two friends...they've been put in the upper cells...and...um...your son was with them, sir."

Lucius went white. Behind him, Lord Voldemort let out a derisive laugh.

* * *

Hermione lay on the damp floor where they'd thrown her. She hadn't moved a muscle, not even to lift her head out of the grime or to wiggle up against a wall. She didn't even notice that she was lying on the wooden box holding the portkey, which had lain in her deep robe pockets since it had been given to her, or that the box was digging into her leg uncomfortably.

Thoughts of Draco crowded her mind. Everything Draco had ever said or done to upset her or her friends, much of it forgotten until this moment, came rushing in, jostling for place in her thoughts. Well hidden, slinking in the shadows, were the few memories of the things that he'd done which had made her glad, even if he had confused her. The feel of his fingers wrapping hers around the silver birch wand danced in the back of her mind, as though it were years, not hours, ago. She couldn't deny any of it.

Her eyes burned and she knew she was crying, which made her angry. She had never cried for Draco before. Not Draco, part of her mind corrected. Malfoy, that's what he is, a Malfoy and he's as much a bastard as the rest of his family.

Punishing thoughts taunted her. You said once that you'd never trust him, but you did, didn't you? Like a fool you trusted him and he led you to a trap. Now Harry will feel he has to try and save you and Ron and the Dark Lord will be waiting to...her mind shied away from thinking about what might happen then.

Angrily she wiggled her bound hands until she could reach up and pull the silver necklace from around her neck, hurling it away from her. It clattered against the opposite wall, seeming loud in the silence. She wiped her damp eyes on her sleeve, quickly, and glared at the necklace, Draco's necklace; the necklace he'd given her, the one she'd worn like a traitor. Hermione rolled over, turning so she couldn't see it glittering in the filth and tried, with no success, to force Draco from her mind.

She felt flooded by guilt and anger at her own foolishness. So she lay there, not thinking of escape or of helping Harry or anything else constructive. Her mind was filled with images of the blonde, pale boy as she relived those incidents with him, wishing with all her heart she still had her time-turner so that she could change what had been. But she didn't, it was too late. Those two words reverberated around her empty skull, too late, too late, too late.

Too late.

Too late.

* * *

Sirius trudged across the seemingly endless desert. His head hurt, he was tired, but nothing was going to stop him reaching Harry.

Suddenly, a noise behind him made him start. It sounded like a muffled sneeze. He turned but could see nothing.

"Who's there?" he asked, his dark eyes narrowing.

There was silence for a moment then a loud sigh and Ginny's head appeared, followed closely by Elizabeth's, and then by their bodies. Ginny's face was set in a defensive scowl, even before Sirius opened his mouth.

He stood looking at them for a moment. He had forgotten just how unsettling it was to see someone emerging from under the invisibility cloak, despite the fact he'd been using it earlier.

"What are you doing here?" He tried to make his voice stern, realising as he did that he simply sounded tired and slightly bemused. He fervently regretted leaving the invisibility cloak on the Hospital Wing floor. He had thought foolishly that he wouldn't need it once he was through and that having it would remind him too painfully of James and enlarge the temptation of settling Peter's account. I should have at least hidden it under one of the beds or something, he thought belatedly.

"We've come to help," Ginny said simply. "Harry's in danger, I know he is and so is my brother," she said, darting a look at Elizabeth who nodded, "and Hermione. We're going to help you."

Sirius rubbed his forehead tiredly. "You can't, Dumbledore told you to stay at the school." Both girls shifted slightly, uneasy at having deliberately disobeyed Dumbledore, but neither lifted their pleading look. They reminded him irritatingly of puppies and he couldn't bring himself to kick them away.

"You need the cloak," Ginny protested.

Sirius still looked unconvinced.

"And you'll never actually get there without me either," Elizabeth spoke up. "To get to the castle, you will you'll need to follow someone with Slytherin blood. That's the normal protection their strongholds. I dare say Voldemort would rather it were Death Eater blood but the fortress was built by Salazar Slytherin and what he originally created remains." Ginny's grin had the air of a satisfied cat. Elizabeth had played their trump card.

Sirius sighed, then an unpleasant thought occurred to him. "Did you tell Dumbledore about that?" he asked, rather anxiously. The idea of getting Harry and his friends safely out of Voldemort's fortress without back up did not appeal to him, particularly not now that he was evidently going to have to watch out for Ginny and Elizabeth too.

Both girls were nodding. "Dumbledore said that Snape should be able to get them in," Elizabeth explained. Sirius nodded reluctantly, as he was realized that going to have to take them with him.

"Alright," he said grudgingly, noticing the smiles of relief that blossomed as soon as he'd spoken. He felt oddly proud of Harry and Ron for making friends whose loyalties were so strong, just as Harry's father had thought he had. He was reminded then of whose fortress he was going to and who he was likely to meet there. Unconsciously, he ran his fingers over his wand, knowing deep down that that was one of the reasons why he'd come and come alone.

He shook his head, as if to clear it of that name. It did little good but he decided to ignore that. "Keep the cloak on," he told the girls. "If I get caught, I don't want you in Voldemort's hands too."

They evidently saw the sense in this because they put it back on. "But you'll have to follow us as best you can, because Elizabeth needs to go first," Ginny's voice reminded him from the air to his right. He nodded and they carried on towards the castle.

* * *

Hermione had given up her miserable thoughts and was finally trying to think constructively. Taking stock, she realised that while she didn't have her wand, she did still have the portkey. She got it out, an operation made difficult by the bindings on her wrist. But, she thought, at least they're tied in front of me.

Once she had it out, she opened the catch, another exercise which proved tricky, and looked down at the little red and gold book. It would be so easy to touch it, escaping back to Hogwarts and the safety of Dumbledore's presence. But that would leave Harry and Ron, Gabrielle and Fleur stranded. And Draco, the nasty, taunting voice in her mind whispered. I don't care about Draco, she replied angrily. I don't care about leaving him here among his own kind, but I won't leave Harry and Ron and we came here to save Gabrielle and Fleur anyway.

Resolutely she put the portkey, still in its box, back in her robes. Suddenly, she saw a glimmer of hope - if she still had the portkey, then surely Ron still had the bracelet. She hadn't seen anyone take it from him after all, and thinking back to what Elaine had said when she gave it to Ginny, she wasn't at all sure that anyone could.

He was in the cell next to hers; she'd seen them throw him in there. But, she realised with a sinking heart, without her wand, she had no way of contacting him. What if he didn't know she was in the cell next to him? What if he didn't think to use the bracelet? He wasn't there when Godric's children explained its power to them, and he was in pain, she thought fretfully. His ankle had been swollen enough from their trip across the barren rock desert and she hated to think what tying it to his other ankle, then throwing him into a stone cell had done to it.

Suddenly, a movement over by the far wall of her cell interrupted her thoughts. Wiggling up, she peered at it, only to throw herself away in horror, telling herself that what she had seen had been her imagination or a trick of the light combined with her overburdened brain. Even so, she scrambled to the furthest corner and didn't look again until she was sure she couldn't get any further away. But when she looked again, there was no doubt that the stone was melting.

It seemed to bubble slightly and then drip down, pooling on the floor. Hermione pushed herself back, until she could feel her shoulders scraping against the hard stone. A hole was forming, and in that space a tall, red-haired figure was standing. Arm out, bracelet pressed against the stone, he wore a rather stunned expression. At the sight of her he came running forward, clearly relived.

"Hermione, are you alright?"

She tried to disguise the surprised horror that she was feeling, without much success. Ron was looking down at her, concerned.

"You did that with that?" she asked weakly, gesturing first at the hole in the cell wall then at the bracelet clinging to his wrist.

He looked down at it, evidently as unsettled as she was. "Yeah."

"How?"

"I remembered what you said about it having absolute power here and the effect it had on the walls outside." He shrugged.

"But why did it do that?" She indicated the wall again. "Why not a door?"

He frowned thoughtfully. "I think because I simply wanted to get through the wall to you, I can't remember what I said exactly, but I didn't specify a door like I did outside." He bent down, "Let me get rid of the ropes."

Hermione flinched away, her eyes still drawn to the melted stone.

"I promise that I'll be specific. I'll only get rid of the ropes."

"Alright." She tensed, half expecting her arms to melt away like the stones. Ron rested his bracelet gently against the ropes that were biting into her wrists and she was relieved when the ropes fell away easily. As soon as they hit the floor, they slithered away, like little snakes, and Hermione shivered involuntarily.

Ron straightened and pulled her gently to her feet. It was then that she realised he was standing with no problem on his ankle. It wasn't even swollen. Hermione looked at him questioningly.

Ron grinned. "Well, I worked out that since the bracelet has absolute power here, it would be able to heal my ankle for as long as I'm in the fortress ? here. It should be fine until we get back, although I don't know what shape it'll be in by then, whether it will be worse or simply the same. Either way, Madame Pomfrey will be there to deal with it."

Hermione was amazed. She wouldn't have thought Ron would even have used the bracelet, let alone thought of a way to heal his ankle. It made her regret the time she'd spent moping.

Ron was already standing by the wall into the corridor. He put his hand out when Hermione said, "Wait, we can't let them know we've escaped. Use it on the lock, then I'll run out and stun the guards, then we can drag them in here and lock it again. If they see another great melted hole in the wall, the alarm will be raised at once."

Ron nodded, seeing the sense in that. He had his hand on the lock when they heard a thud from outside, muffled by the thick, stone walls. They exchanged a glance and then Ron whispered the command. The lock clicked open. Hermione sprang forward, out into the corridor, and was amazed to find Draco Malfoy standing over the two guards, his wand still in his hand. She stood staring.

Ron turned, starting slightly to see Draco. He bent down and realized that the blonde boy had stunned the guards. Hermione was still watching Draco with a strange mix of a grin and a glare on her face. Her gaze was being met by Draco's usual impassive expression.

"Draco?" she whispered, wondering why she called him that, why she asked, why she was talking to him at all.

Then something else caught her eye. For all Draco's casual poise, he was attempting to hide something behind him. She shifted slightly and realised that it was a bunch of keys. Her heart seemed to contract painfully.

Draco noticed her glance and drew the keys out. "Yes, I was coming to let you out." She was shocked at the strange bitterness in his voice. He threw the keys at her feet and they clanged off the stone loudly, making her wince. "Evidently there was no need, you seem to have managed fine without me."

Hermione realised Ron was unobtrusively dragging the guards into the cell. She knew she should help him, but she couldn't drag herself away from Draco's gaze. It transfixed her.

"Yes, Ron had the Gryffindor bracelet. Perhaps you should have remembered." The coldness in her voice surprised even herself.

"Yes, perhaps I should have done. Perhaps I shouldn't have come. Perhaps I should have allowed you to rot in those cells if you couldn't get out, and you couldn't for all I knew. Perhaps I shouldn't have cared."

Draco? Care? Hermione's mind was reeling. The self-hatred in that last sentence quenched her anger at once. "I'm sorry." Her voice was no more then a whisper. She was suddenly angry again. Why am I apologising? I haven't done anything. It's not my fault what he feels. She looked down, embarrassed and confused, but at his next words, she looked up at his face again, without thinking.

"You're not wearing my necklace."

"No," she agreed quietly.

Draco pulled out his wand, its pale length gleaming slightly in the faint light. "Accio." Something silver streaked past Ron, narrowly missing his ear. The necklace hung in Draco's hand, as he performed another quick charm to rid it of dirt. He held his hand out. "Are you going to wear it?" His words were casual, but she knew from his tone that he was asking her to chose about more than the necklace

Slowly she reached out, her hand trembling, trying not to think that she had been calling herself a traitor for wearing it. The silver chain slid from his fingers to hers easily. He reached as if he was about to fasten the clasp for her but she shrank back, turning to let Ron do it up. Draco let his hands drop, resigned.

"We need to go after Gabrielle. They'll have taken her to wherever Fleur is." Both boys nodded in agreement, not only at her words but also at her need to change the subject.

"Here." Draco pulled something from the inside pocket of his robe. Two somethings, in fact. He handed them to Ron and Hermione without meeting their gaze.

"Our wands," Hermione gasped.

Ron looked straight at Draco. "Thank you, Malfoy," he said, sounding like he genuinely meant it. There was respect in his gaze, not liking, but not open hatred either.

"This way," Draco beckoned, but he waited until Ron had relocked the cell door before leading them down the stone passage. "And be very quiet. If they find you've escaped they'll be out after you with worse than stunning spells on their minds."

It was as they crept through the corridors that Hermione realised something was missing. She laid her hand gently on Draco's arm to get his attention without making any noise. He turned to look at her.

She put her mouth up to his ear and whispered, "Where's Godric's cloak?"

He looked down, trying to retrace his own movements. His forehead creased as he tried to remember where he had last had the cloak. He hissed softly in annoyance. Ron, always aware, turned and heard Draco answer Hermione, despite his whisper.

"Fuck! I put it down when we had to help Ron up. I remember putting it down...but not picking it up again. It must be still out there. The effort, the studying, the research, the time, the danger that went into getting that cloak..." He went on to curse himself soundly, swearing under his breath with every foul word he knew and some he created specially for the occasion.

Hermione glanced anxiously at Ron. He looked just as worried as she felt, knowing that without the cloak they were extremely vulnerable in this place. But there was nothing for it - they had to press on. Draco knew it too. He stopped berating himself and they set off again, heading deeper into the dark.

* * *

Harry squared his shoulders and stepped through the door. It shut sharply behind him. He was in yet another empty white room. This one had a pool in the centre, other than that it was completely empty, no doors or furniture. Nothing. Empty.

He walked to the pool and knelt at its edge, looking down into it. As he did so he felt the pain in his scar intensify, telling him that he was nearer to Voldemort. The pool was completely still and smooth, almost more like glass than water.

What he saw shocked him. There was a room far below, as empty and white as the room he was in, but if he peered around the edges of the water, he could make out another dark, wooden door, identical to the one had just passed through. He was seeing though the pool and he realised the water must be floating.

Well, he reflected. This fortress was built by Salazar Slytherin, one of the most powerful wizards or witches there's ever been. Surely, to him, making water float would be easy.

The door in the pool opened and the guardian came to stand underneath the floating water. She smiled up at him and beckoned. Then she walked away.

So this was what he was supposed to do, jump through an evidently enchanted pool down into some kind of underground level of this castle. The presence of the guardian puzzled him slightly, she'd been in the room behind him only a minute ago, but obviously she had strange powers tied to her position as guardian.

Harry couldn't help backing away. He wasn't a good swimmer and the most recent of his limited experiences had been in his fourth year, but then he'd used gillyweed. Harry fervently wished he had some now. Without it there was surely no way he could get through that tunnel of water alive.

Stop panicking, part of his brain told him sharply. You don't have to get to Voldemort that way. You have the bracelet; use it.

He looked around doubtfully. Well, there's nothing to stop me touching the walls here, after all. He put the bracelet against the smooth white surface and commanded a door to form. It did, looking exactly like the others he'd seen here. Harry felt his heart rise slightly. Maybe I won't have to go through the pool after all.

With a trembling hand he pulled the door open, expecting Voldemort, expecting the guardian, expecting anything other than the white, empty room that faced him. It was exactly like the one he already stood in but it had no doors.

Okay, he thought. I'll try the floor. He knelt in the room he'd just opened and, using the bracelet, removed a circle of the floor large enough for him to slip through. Water met his eye again. He was looking into the same room.

Harry couldn't help swearing in annoyance and making a rather obscene gesture into the empty air, sure that Voldemort was watching somewhere, with great amusement.

He replace the circle, watching it seal itself in again at once and then tried making a door in the opposite wall with exactly the same result.

Eventually he had to accept that he'd been wrong, the only way was through the pool.

Perhaps I did choose the wrong door, he thought. Perhaps this is death, because there's no way I can survive going through there, it looks very deep, my breath won't last that long.

No, you idiot, another part of his brain answered. If you had chosen the wrong door you'd be dead already.

It occurred to him that he was having an argument with himself but before he could do anything about it, he suddenly realised that he'd given himself the answer.

It looks very deep.

What if this, like every thing else, had only been meant to scare and confuse him? What if it only looked deep? But how could he test it? And what would he do if he was wrong?

Pushing that thought away, Harry pulled a thread from the hem of his robe and transfigured it into a small stone. Gently he dropped it into the smooth water, watching as it made thousands of ripples in the surface. But even before all the ripples had formed, the stone was through the water and ringing on the floor below. It had appeared to move faster than was possible for a pebble to fall through water and because of that, Harry guessed he'd been right. The pool wasn't actually that deep, but had been charmed to seem so.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Harry pulled his robes tightly around him and walked to the very edge of the pool. He took another deep breath then stepped forward and dropped like the stone into the pool.

The feeling of cold water closing around his chest forced the air from his lungs in a string of tiny bubbles. There was a whirling, falling sensation for a moment and then Harry landed, hard, on the cold stone floor. He lay for a moment looking up at the shifting water above him, glad he'd been right, glad he was alive. It was a feeling he had experienced several time in the last few hours, despite the ever-increasing pain in his scar as he drew closer to Voldemort.

The water was still disturbed from his entry, but was rather pretty from this angle. He was almost admiring it until it occurred to him how difficult it was going to be to get back.

Grimly, he stood up and used a drying charm to rid his robes and body of the icy water. Soon it was gone and he was dry again, but the chill remained. He seemed to be feeling it in his very bones and he guessed it was more to do with the pain in his head then with the freezing water in which he'd been immersed.

The door opened again, but this time Harry was prepared. He whirled around, his wand raised, but it was only the guardian.

"This way. My lord awaits you."

Harry didn't move.

"Unless, you've changed you're mind and you want to go back..." Her eyes followed his as they flicked to the water above them.

Harry wished with almost all his heart that he could go back, but he knew he had to face Voldemort, as he had faced him before and as he would face him again and again, until one of them was dead.

He glanced at the guardian and for a moment her face seemed to shift to all the faces of those he cared for, those who, at this rate, he might not see again. She was Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Ginny again, Mrs Weasley, each of his roommates, Hermione again, Mr Weasley, Sirius again, Dumbledore, Ron again, McGonagall, more and more faces, those he loved most coming most frequently.

He turned away, images of Ginny, of Hermione, of Ron seeming to blind him. What if he never saw them again? But it was too late for that now. He shook his head and frowned stubbornly, bringing to mind instead his parents' faces, the sound of their dying moments and Cedric, lying dead beside him. Harry's resolve stiffened and he lifted his head.

"I thought you would not turn back. Come now. Lord Voldemort does not like to wait."