A Long Way from Home

Chapter XI

Once more, for the hell of it, Ron replayed the events of the past thirty-six hours in his head. The events prior to Harry catching the teacup were hazy – he had been in a daze since Andie had disappeared, coming out of it only when his companions found it necessary to seek his opinion. The faint magical waiver in the air as Harry had disappeared had been like a slap across the face. The events that had preceded that very moment seemed to rush in on him all at once and he was suddenly hyper-aware of everything going on around him. He saw Hermione’s lips move in the briefest gasp before she had taken off after a strange figure. He saw the panic in Remus’ eyes and finally, his vision broadened enough to take in the new figures closing in on them. His own Quidditch skills still in tact, he reacted with lightening speed. In a flash, he had pulled Remus behind him and began casting several spells he thought long-forgotten.

The last year of their battle against Voldemort had taught them so much – Hermione had begun using the time-turner again and to this day, he still wondered how she could have possibly put so much information into her head in just one year. His personal favorite bit of research was into foreign types of magic. They were undetectable by Ministry wards in many cases, and it was the uncommon wizard that knew any counter-defenses to other types of magic. Hermione had explained it best – magic was like languages, there were dialects, families of magic that were favored in one culture over another. He had grown to love Chinese magical spells – they had fifty different spells for stunning a person.

There was also a handy little spell that was like Expelliarmus, except that it worked on anybody within ten meters. No doubt a few harmless spectators had been caught up in it as well, but he deemed the effect well worth it. He pushed through the gathering crowds and chased after Hermione. He wasn’t surprised when he heard Remus running along behind him.

He caught sight of her darting through the crowd and looking ahead, caught a quick view of the stranger that had given Harry the portkey. Tossing a few casual spells at the cloaked wizards running towards them, they made quick time through the crowd, just fast enough to see Hermione disappear between two buildings.

When he finally caught up to her, the sight in the alley had shocked him more than anything he’d seen in years. Lilith, the head of the Blood Council, was floating in the air ten feet above Hermione, powered by a pair of steadily beating black and skeletal looking wings. Her long red hair was whipping wildly in the blustering wind and her eyes were silvery, flashing dangerously. She bared her teeth at the figure on the ground and Ron heard himself call out for Hermione.

In a clear, menacing voice, the vampire spoke: “You tell your Order, that the Brotherhood of the Midnight Crest has taken Harry Potter to Castle Corfe. Tell them also, that the Brotherhood is the sworn enemy of the Blood Council and of Countess Lilith of Ardeal.”

In a loud thrashing of wings, the vampire had snatched the figure up and he saw for the first time the face of the perpetrator. Olivia Petrescu, their aid and ally, had betrayed them. He watched for a long moment as the vampire disappeared into the sky before turning his gaze to Hermione.

At nearly the same moment, she had turned to look at him and he received another shock to his system. Hermione’s features were etched in pure, cold rage. It was coming off her in waves; even her hair had become its usual wild mess. She regarded him for a moment, “Ron, we must get back to the Castle and contact the Order of the Phoenix. We must tell them that Harry has been taken and that we need all reinforcements ready.” She looked past him and began to walk steadily down the alley, her hands at her sides, wand clutched tightly between her fingertips.

“What do you mean, ready?” Ron said, turning to follow her.

“We’re going after him,” she called over her shoulder as she turned onto the thoroughfare.

Quickening his pace, he reached forward and grabbed her upper arm. She spun around and glared mutinously at him. Somehow, he knew that this would be his last chance to argue and he sighed.

“That’s not your decision to make.”

“Like hell it isn’t,” she replied through her teeth.

“Hermione, I really think you should leave this up to some of the older members.”

“That’s bullocks and you know it, Ron,” she hissed, thrusting her finger into his chest. “I’m going after him, because he’s my best friend and I don’t need your permission or your company. I will be just fine without you.”

“Don’t be daft,” he said, changing tactics and putting on a more casual air. “I’ll not let you go off on some dangerous mission without me. We’ll talk to Remus; we’ll get what we need.”

She didn’t buy his complacent tone but didn’t argue further. Turning on her heel, she started back towards the vampires’ castle.

Now, a full day and a half later, he was beginning to feel the frustration of having arrived at a dead end. In the time since Harry had disappeared a great deal had happened: closest to home, the vampires had opened their wards, much to Hermione’s dismay. Dark creatures had been coming and going freely and in great numbers– it was nearly the full moon. This also meant, however, that Order members were able to come and go more easily, though they were being carefully watched by the vampire clan.

Hermione had met several times with Lilith but had kept most of the content of their meetings to herself, sharing only the elements of their conversations that related directly to their planning. She immediately began bossing people around and they never seemed to question it. He remembered, of course, that this was not a completely unfamiliar role to either of them: Harry had been captured once before, and it had been Hermione’s plans that had saved him. It hadn’t been until after the war was over that they found out it had all been staged by the Order. A test, as it were. Hermione had left the very next day, following Harry into anonymity.

The strategy was simple enough: they would get into the castle, keeping in two tight groups. A tracking talisman could be made easily enough if one knew a more specific location. When they knew the exact location, Hermione would create the talisman and their operation would begin. Break into the castle, locate the hostages, confront the enemy and evacuate the castle of all hostages. Classic plan of action.

There was only one snag and it was beginning to feel hopeless; the exact location of Corfe Castle was unknown. As far as anyone knew, they had access only to one person that might have the information. Hermione had requested some time alone with that Olivia woman, and now all that was left was to wait. She had mentioned, however, that Lilith hadn’t been able to guarantee her that Olivia would be in any sort of state conducive to questioning.

Gathering his thoughts together, Ron stood from the chair in his room and walked across the carpet to look out over the medieval town below. It was nearly lunch-time and he had been feeling restless all morning. They’d been waiting for six hours for any word from Lilith and he had sensed the growing annoyance in Hermione. When he thought it would go unnoticed, he had slipped out of the meeting room they had been given access to and apparated back to the hotel. He had spent the last thirty minutes attempting to play himself in chess, but had failed miserably. His concentration wavered constantly and he was unable to plan any moves.

A small pop echoed in the silent room and he turned from the window, unsurprised to see Hermione standing in the middle of the room.

“You’re very rude when you’re under pressure. There’s a doorbell, or you could even knock,” he said, trying to keep his tone light as he smiled slightly.

Hermione burst into tears.

“Merlin, Hermione, what’s wrong?” he asked as he rushed to her, gathering her into a tight hug.

“This is entirely my fault, Ron, all of it. I should never have published that paper and now Harry and Andie are gone and I don’t know what I’ll do if we can’t get them back.” She cried, the words rushing out and tumbling over each other. Her shoulders hitched against him as she began to sob harder.

Bewildered, Ron rubbed her back gently, making small shushing sounds. “It’s ok, Hermione. This isn’t your fault.”

She made some indiscernible response, but he shook his head. “You can’t blame yourself. This Midnight Crest crowd is no different than any of these dark groups have ever been. They reek havoc by coming up with really bad plans and then failing spectacularly. It has nothing to do with you, except that you are Harry Potter’s best friend and he’s got like, this big red target on his forehead when it comes to these guys. Walking dark wizard magnet, that one is.”

He felt Hermione’s shoulder shake slightly and he pulled back to look at her. She was laughing slightly and her eyes finally seemed to dry a bit.

“I’m going to tell him you said that.”

“Good! He’s a git anyway.”

At this, she burst out laughing and punched him lightly on the shoulder. “You’re mad.”

“I know,” he said softly and smiled. “Are you ready to get back then? We can see if Her Bloody Royal Highness has deemed it time for your interview yet. It’d be the news of the week you know: day walking and all.”

***

It came as no surprise that Lilith didn’t call for her until after night-fall. The day had not been a waste, however. They had finalized teams, gone over maps and tried to get as much last minute planning in as possible. She had even taken the time to plan exactly how she would handle Olivia. She had given Lilith a list of requests and was counting on her questioning of Olivia to be successful. They didn’t want to waste time by being unprepared and expected to leave shortly after the questioning. When the message finally came from Lilith, Hermione had left the Order immediately and gone to the vampire’s private offices.

Now, nearly thirty minutes after being called in, she had careful time to look around the room. Hermione had decided that this space must have been designed by someone who paced a lot. The floors were smooth, even stone and a long, narrow path had been created between an absolutely ancient looking sofa and a huge, wall-spanning fireplace. She gathered that Lilith was not the sort of person that paced frequently, but admittedly, she wasn’t willing to spend that much time thinking about what exactly Lilith did to relieve stress and think things through.

She seemed to have a penchant for being stranded in castles for longer than she would like. Since Harry’s disappearance, she hadn’t left the place but once, to find Ron. The Order of the Phoenix had come to her and she hadn’t slept more than a few hours. She had been pacing in this office for half an hour and wasn’t completely sure that any of this questioning would pan out. Her agitation was growing as she moved; she sincerely hoped that Olivia Petrescu would still be alive when brought into the room.

“You will wear a tread in my floor,” Lilith said from her perch at a huge wooden desk. Two tall curtained windows loomed behind the desk, framing the vampire in black velvet. Her auburn hair, now pinned around her head, stood out brightly against all the dark stone. Hermione had found herself staring at Lilith several times. Every color of her features seemed oddly bright, as if everything had received a very light, brightening coat of paint.

Hermione waved the comment away and shook her head. “I won’t; it’s stone.”

“Sit.” Lilith commanded and jolted her finger at Hermione. Stunned at the pressure on her shoulders, she did as told.

“Have you come to any conclusions?” the vampire asked as she examined the long red fingernails on her left hand.

“About what?” Hermione asked, looking quizzically at Lilith.

“About why your lover was taken?”

Hermione hesitated. She had a few theories, but was unsure how much she should share. Realizing that the pressure on her shoulders had been lifted, she stood and turned back towards the fireplace.

“I understand your hesitation, Hermione Granger. Caution is a strong trait.”

“They want something only Harry can give,” she said finally. “I’m not sure what that is, though.”

“Maybe it is not for you to know yet.”

“I don’t think the ‘what’ is important. He’s been taken and I will find him by whatever means necessary,” she replied, finally turning around and resuming her seat in one of the chairs across from the large desk. She held her shoulders erect and met the vampire’s level gaze with one of her own.

Lilith regarded her for several moments before making a small waving motion at the door to the right of her desk. Within seconds, it opened and a tall, dark-haired vampire walked in. He bowed gently to his mistress and waited at the corner of her desk.

“Hadrian, bring Petrescu. And the tools.” Hermione tried to keep her breath steady as Lilith spoke. Her chance had finally arrived.

Wordlessly, Hadrian left the room. In took several minutes, but he eventually returned with Olivia Petrescu and a small black box floating behind him. The petite form of the traitorous witch looked emaciated. The bruises and cuts over her body were evidence of torture; Hermione knew from her research that vampires did not use magic for punishment. They were artists of the medieval trade.

Lilith eyed the witch for a few moments before a sly, nearly evil grin spread across her face. She walked over to Olivia and lifted her head from her chest. Hermione saw Olivia’s brown eyes swivel before focusing on Lilith’s face.

“Do not hesitate to break her,” Lilith said, speaking to Hermione but staring at Olivia.

Hermione did not answer, fearing that her voice would betray her deep-seated unease with the situation. She took another deep breath, going over each step of the plan, before she flicked her wand once to release the bonds that held Olivia. Another flick and she was seated in a hard-backed wooden chair. The entire room was silent, filled thick with tension. Hermione turned her back on Olivia and nodded once to Lilith and Hadrian. Wordlessly, they left.

As soon as Lilith had exited the room, Olivia stretched her bruised and beaten face into a thin smile.

“I’d like to see you try. I’ve heard so much about you, Granger. A very dear friend of my mother’s had fought you many times in battle and I know that even in the end, you could not kill her. Your little boyfriend had to do the dirty work for you.”

Hermione felt white hot angering surging through her, but miraculously she kept her face still. Counting to ten, she took another deep breath and forced herself to concentrate, to compartmentalize, to shut down. She began waving her wand, looping fresh rope over Petrescu’s arms and legs. She watched as the sinewy magical rope tightened and snaked through her subject’s limbs. As it finished, she hesitated as to whether or not to gag Olivia, but decided against it. It would rob her of any chance to speak before they commenced their work.

“You were her special little pet. Her little fetish. Potter belonged to the Dark Lord, but you were to be hers.”

Hermione began rearranging the objects on the table next to her, attempting to reign in her temper and focus on her objective. She concentrated on her tools and felt a strange sort of déjà vu settle over her. They had come across several people in their hunts for the horcruxes that needed some persuasion to guide the trio in their quest. She had become a master at administering veritaserum and knew precisely what questions to ask to get the information she needed. When required, she could completely compartmentalize all of her emotions and focus solely on the task at hand. Her table was well laid out: there was a vial of the truth potion, a small talisman that simply looked devilish and nasty, but was really only a fancy lie-detector, and a jar of pain potion. There was also a small dagger, well-polished and impossibly sharp. She had found, in her handful of personal experience, that these tools were rarely used. They were props, though effective ones. The real tools were her mind and her force of will.

She had taught herself to be a Legilimens, and she had aided Harry to become a master Occlumens. Its use in interrogation had been a side-benefit that she had not counted on.

She turned again towards Olivia and cocked her head slightly, waiting.

“She never did get to you. But she found your father easily enough,” Olivia said slowly, her voice proud and her face blatantly displaying a smirk. “He begged.”

No response came from Hermione. She merely stood, her fingers clasping her wand loosely in front of her, and looked down at Petrescu.

Olivia laughed harshly. “I always heard you were a cold bitch. Does it not bother you? Does it not get under your skin? Your father begged for his life because you were too uncaring to keep him safe.”

Hermione cocked her head to the side and tapped her wand twice against the palm of her hand.

Olivia growled lowly and began to struggle against her bonds. She was glaring at Hermione now, her eyes flashing wildly. The look of superiority was gone from her eyes and all Hermione could see was pure animalistic fear.

In a flash, Hermione had her wand at Olivia’s throat. She looked into the other witch’s eyes and smiled wickedly, knowing that she now had full control of the situation. She had waited and baited the other witch. Her silence and non-reaction had dealt a heavy blow to Petrescu’s confidence and it was the perfect time to strike. Swiftly and silently, she cast the necessary charm and found herself glancing carefully, as if through a pensieve, at the blank mind of her subject.

Without hesitation, Hermione pooled her focus and shoved through the blockade. Olivia’s thoughts had the strange and scattered organization of a madwoman. Hermione pushed forward, looking deeper, looking for the pain and the secrets.

Going farther back, she felt suddenly as if she’d hit a wall. All around her was simply blackness, silent and endless. She had hit her mark; this was the mind of a person so mentally and emotionally damaged that her mind had fractured, concealing many of its worst secrets. In the background, beyond the fog of the mind/body barrier, she heard Olivia scream as she gathered her will and shoved through the darkness. Slowly, agonizingly so, she began to sift through memories, like strange, moving photographs, of abuse: physical, emotional, sexual. She saw the man that must have been Olivia’s father kill a young boy of maybe thirteen in a wizarding duel. She saw a rough-textured cane. Here and there she saw shadowed memories, ones that had not been reviewed in many, many years, of a strange man entering a bedroom late at night. She saw bruises and broken bones. Destroyed toys. Strange artifacts and dangerous spells.

The sounds were the worst. She heard screams, shouts, and the sound of rib bone splintering beneath a heavy foot. There was a heavy voice, whispering rough words in a foreign tongue. And there was laughter, but not the happy, bubbling notes of childhood. It was a low-pitched rumble, whiskey-tainted and wicked.

She could smell the blood and the burned flesh, could taste the taint of it in the air.

She felt the simultaneous tug and push of a mind meeting the breaking point. She pulled back and began looking for more recent memories. She found Harry and the portkey and pushed further back in time. She saw a large stone castle and several robed figures ambling about. She heard familiar voices and saw flashes of red hair. And, striking gold, she found the mental reminders of the location.

In a single motion, Hermione pulled herself from the mind of Olivia and stepped back to look at her.

Olivia was crying and mouthing silent words. She swayed her body wildly, tugging at her ropes and taking deep, raspy breaths. Hermione watched, emotionless. She would celebrate the knowledge of finding Harry later. She waited as Olivia’s breathing slowed some and her body stopping pitched back and forth. There was a sharp intake of breath and Petrescu lifted her head to glare.

“Go to hell.”

Hermione smirked. “I’ll see you there.” And again, she allowed herself to venture into the mind of the traitor, reaching back as far as she dared, digging, searching. When she found what she was looking for, she pulled a single image, of a father, taking what was never his to have.

The tug and push firmly ejected her from her wanderings and she walked away from the chair, knowing that the price she would pay for this would be worth it.

Still, as she walked down the hall from Lilith’s office, she stopped in a small water closet and slammed the door shut behind her. She felt a wave of guilt crash over her and vomited neatly into the toilet bowl.

*** “How long had she been a member of this group?” Remus asked.

“Her mother was a supporter of the Death Eaters and a confidant of Bellatrix Lestrange. No doubt, Petrescu joined up with our current band of merrymaking maniacal fiends when they started recruiting. Everyone is always so sure that they can win,” Hermione replied, not looking up from the notes she was making.

Remus frowned at her and looked down at his hands. “She went to Hogwarts, knew my wife even. How did I never…”

“You couldn’t have, I don’t think. I got the sense that she thought this time was different and she did a much better job of hiding her true self than many others we’ve seen. They seem to have some other motive now, rather than just killing everyone that doesn’t agree and taking over the world.”

“I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

Hermione shrugged and looked up from her paper. “I think I’ve finally got it now. I’ll have to use her magical signature to get past the wards, but after that I’ll be able to bring everyone else in. Each team will have a talisman that will lead to me after I’ve cleared the way.”

“I can’t let you do that, Hermione,” Ron said, speaking up for the first time. He was seated across from her, at a small round table in the parlor of their suite. There was a platter of sandwiches next to his elbow that had remained ignored.

“What are you talking about Ron? I have to.”

“No, it’s not what you do, Hermione. You never go in first. We – Harry and I always agreed on that.”

“He’s not here, Ron and it’s not your decision to make.”

“The bloody hell it isn’t, Hermione. Quit acting like everyone is trying to keep you out of the loop or something. We’ve been trying to protect you all along, but you just keep pushing. I’m not stupid and I’ve known you half my life. You were hacked off that Harry asked you to stay at Idyllwild and you just want to punish me for it.”

Remus held up his hand to halt Hermione’s rebuttal. “Enough. Ron, Hermione has to go first. If we’re going to attempt to forge that signature, it’ll need to be done by a female. Hermione, I want to be very clear about something.”

Hermione waited as her stomach flopped. Remus had taken a tone of voice that, over the years, had come to unnerve her; he reminded her strongly of Dumbledore in those rare moments.

“We are staging a rescue operation for not only Harry, but, we hope, several children and Ron’s wife. I realize that you want to make sure Harry is safe, but I don’t want anyone taking unnecessary risks. You’ve been under a great deal of stress over the past several days and I do not want you to feel as if you have to do this. Don’t do anything foolish.”

Hermione nodded. “ I feel I am the best suited to this task and I’ve outlined my reasons for that over the past forty-eight hours.”

Remus returned her nod and stood from the table. “We’ll convene here in thirty minutes, both teams. Ron, you will lead the primary squad and I’ll bring up the rear.”

He walked away from them and Hermione stood from the table to begin gathering her notes. The talisman would only take a few minutes to make now that she had what she needed. There was enough time to have a quick shower and gather her pack.

Ron remained silent, looking at her with a blank expression on his face. She ignored him and continued bustling around. She grabbed up her parchment pad and turned towards the door. As she put her first foot towards it, however, Ron grabbed her arm and turned her to face him.

“Why are you doing this, Hermione?” he asked evenly. “You’re not the only one that can make the first approach.”

She looked at Ron for several long moments before deciding to simply tell him the truth.

“You’re wrong; I’m the only one that can do this Ron.”

“We can’t risk you Hermione!”

“I have nothing to lose, Ron, by doing this. I need to do this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m in love with Harry, Ron and I don’t know how to keep living my life without him. I have nothing to lose, because if I don’t have him with me, I have nothing.”

***

Harry landed with an unceremonious thud in a darkened stone chamber. It took him several moments to get his wits about him: a nasty side effect of forced magical transportation and some other force that made him feel as if he was swimming through concrete.

He blinked his eyes and shook his head a couple of times before his mind cleared a bit. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was able to make out the surrounding walls; two were solid and the others were comprised of heavy, rust-colored bars. He felt briefly around for his wand and was surprised to find it next to him on the ground. Tentatively, he picked it up and attempted to cast a simple spell. Nothing happened, exactly as he had expected. He stood up quickly, stuffing the thin piece of wood into his pocket and trying to stifle the feelings of panic that were arising in him. Confusion was replaced by anger and just a little bit of fear. Feeling vulnerable in the small cell, he backed out of the center of the room and let his eyes further adjust.

Before long, he had settled down enough to better investigate his surroundings. Turning slowly to his left, he was able to make out another figure in the cell over, illuminated in very low moonlight. He wondered wildly if it was a body stretched across the floor of the cell and swallowed back the rising bile in his throat. He glanced through the front of the cell and seeing and hearing nothing, started towards the neighboring cell.

As he inched closer, the light hit on strands of chestnut hair stretching from the covered head across the floor of the cell and he was able to make out the traditional black robes of a professor. Feeling true panic rising again, he knelt down and wrapped his hands around the bars between the cells.

“Andie?” he whispered furtively, hoping that it was some other chestnut-haired witch.

He let out a breath when the figure began to move slightly and again, he whispered her name. Relief flooded through him as, slowly, she pushed herself from the floor and turned her body towards him. After several long blinks, Andie sighed audibly.

“I never thought I’d be so happy to see another person,” she said quietly, rubbing her hands over her face.

“Are you alright? Hurt at all?” he asked.

She moved closer to him and nodded slowly. “I feel groggy, but I’m okay. I think I was knocked out or something. I remember having tea and then everything sort of goes blank.”

“Do you know where we are?”

This time, she shook her head. “No idea. Magic doesn’t seem to work, and I’d wager we’re partially underground, as the only light in here comes from those thin little windows in every other cell.”

“Have you seen anyone?” he asked, looking over his shoulder as if the very question would cause an entire squad of dark wizards to swoop in on them.

Before she could answer, however, Harry heard low laughter from another cell.

“I can’t believe they’ve finally got you in here,” a vaguely familiar voice said loudly, shattering the fragile quiet in the dungeon.

“Who are you?” Harry called out as Andie settled back on her heels and rolled her eyes.

“Now, what fun would that be? I ought to make you guess.”

Something in the tone of voice of the stranger made the hair on Harry’s neck rise. He knew that voice – it had been one of the three voices that tortured him most during his time at Hogwarts.

“Malfoy, you bastard! Show yourself!” Harry shouted, standing up and striding to the bars at the front of his cell.

“Oh, if only I could, but unfortunately, someone has deemed it necessary for me to be locked in this dungeon like a common Muggle. I can’t even use my wand to conjure something more comfortable for sleep.”

Harry gritted his teeth, seething. “What do you mean someone? You know perfectly well who’s behind this and I don’t doubt for a second that they’ve put you in here as some sort of decoy!”

“Oh, that’s rich. No Malfoy has ever served as anyone’s decoy. In fact, I’m not sure when anyone in my family last slept on a stone floor.”

“Seems bloody likely that your poor excuse for a father slept on the floor regularly enough in Azkaban, so why don’t you shut it Ferret?”

This didn’t draw a response from Malfoy and after several long moments of silence, Harry turned back to Andie.

She was staring at him through the cell wall, her left eyebrow raised.

“What?” Harry asked as he began to pace the floor of his cell.

“Nothing,” Andie said, shaking her head. “You ought to sleep, though, Harry and quit pacing like that. There’s a guard stationed at the end of the hallway and he’s pretty much left me alone, but a whole group of wizards come in every day and take Malfoy away.”

“What for?”

“I have no idea, and he hasn’t said. We’ll talk more in the morning - I still feel a bit groggy.”

Harry nodded, even knowing that there was no way he’d be able to sleep. A long night loomed ahead of him, filled with information gathering and careful planning. He sighed at the thought, wishing Hermione could help.

As if she’d read his thoughts, Andie called to him quietly. “Harry? Is everyone else alright?”

He shrugged. “At this point, I have no idea.”

“Oh.” Andie turned her back to him and began to remove her cloak. She balled it up and set in on the floor.

Instantly, Harry realized his mistake. “I’m sure they’re okay, though. I’d, well, I’d know it they weren’t, wouldn’t I?”

Andie looked at him for a moment, and her gaze puzzled him, but she merely nodded. “Of course.”

With that, she turned from him and lay down on the rough floor, pushing and pulling on the rolled up cloak to make it more comfortable.

Harry rolled over to give her some semblance of privacy and closed his eyes against the feelings pulsing through him: anger, fear, frustration and strangely regret. At the very edges of his thoughts, Hermione had hovered all night. He knew she would be in complete control of the situation – that she would lead the search to find him. She would walk through hell for him, to save him. And he knew that he didn’t deserve it.

***

“The Brotherhood of the what?”

“We’ve been over this: The Brotherhood of the Midnight Crest, Harry,” sighed the chestnut-haired witch. “You’re just like Ron – you have to hear everything ten times.”

“That’s the stupidest name I’ve ever heard! At least ‘Death Eater’ made sense. The Brotherhood of the Midnight Crest doesn’t even roll off the tongue easily. Everyone’ll have a wand drawn and at your throat before you’re even able to get the bloody name out.”

“Potter, if you don’t shut up…”

“You’ll what, exactly, Malfoy? Shake the bars at me?” Harry replied, making a face in the general direction of his old schoolmate.

Andie rolled her eyes and stood up from the stone floor. “Harry, just shut up,” she said as she peered through the iron bars between their cells. “You don’t seem to take captivity very well.”

“I’ve been in here for nearly twenty-four hours!” he replied dismissively. He sounded ridiculous and he knew it, but his frustration had been mounting continually for that entire period.

“Well, I’ve been here for nearly five days and you don’t see me flying off the handle,” Andie said calmly.

“Yes, and I’ve been held since Christmas. As you can both see, I’m still perfectly sane,” Malfoy drawled. Harry rolled his eyes; he couldn’t even see the Ferret from here, but his mere presence within so many yards irritated him to no end.

For the past few hours, he had been probing Andie with various and sundry questions, trying to discern as much about their captors as possible. Malfoy had added his own thoughts at several moments, but Harry had largely ignored him. Despite the unresponsiveness of his fellow dungeon mates, Malfoy had continued to prattle on, insisting that he’d been captured by the Brotherhood and up until Harry was captured, had spent nearly everyday being put through a series of strange medical and magical tests.

Harry knew he was full of it and was probably working for this so-called Brotherhood, but Andie had begged him, for everyone’s sanity, to please let it alone. They had turned their talk to Ron and in hushed tones, Harry had updated her on their trip to Romania. He still didn’t know if the Order had any clue where they were hidden, but he hoped that after the Brotherhood’s attack against Sighisoara, that the vampires would be more willing to help their cause. He knew from Andie that the vampires would take it as the greatest insult possible that their customs and bylaws had been violated so shamelessly.

“This just doesn’t make sense!” Harry said loudly.

“What doesn’t make sense, Harry?”

“What’s the point of all this? I feel like I’m missing something big – if I just knew what that vampire had said to Hermione…”

“I’m sure they’re doing the best they can to get here,” Andie said softly; her tone was meant to be soothing, but Harry disregarded it and continued his agitated pacing.

“How do they even know where ‘here’ is? I don’t even know where we are.”

“We’re in Corfe, Potter.”

“Yes, Malfoy, I realize that now that you’ve mentioned it half a dozen times. But where is Corfe?”

“I can’t believe they made you Head Boy all those years ago. If you had half a brain, you’d have figured out by now that Corfe has been made Unplottable. Read a book once in awhile, Potter,” Malfoy sneered.

Harry rolled his eyes again but refrained from further comment. Sighing, he pulled his hands through his hair and looked down at the dusty stone floor. His mind was filled with several half-plans for escape, but so far it had been hopeless. A few guards had arrived not long after his own arrival in the dungeons and had taken his wand. There were standard anti-apparition charms all around the cell. Harry let his head fall back, bumping against the rough stone. He welcomed the pain – at least it felt real. Time had no meaning in this place and he felt beyond useless.

“It must be seven,” Malfoy said testily. Harry opened his eyes and saw that his tea had appeared on a small table in the middle of the cell. There was a bowl of thick beef stew and a small loaf of crusty bread that weirdly reminded him of the food at Hogwarts. He turned his back to the table and watched Andie stir a spoon through the stew.

“You have to eat, Harry,” she said quietly as she broke her bread into two halves.

He shook his head, but remained silent.

“It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you’re thinking. Last night was the first time I’ve ever had a blackout like that and I don’t think they’re holding us here for fun, Harry. They need us, or maybe just you, for something and I don’t think they’re going to harm us.”

“Eat up Potty. You’ll need to have your strength if you’re going to break us out of here and save the world this week.”

“Go to hell, Malfoy.”

Malfoy tsked loudly. “No verbal sparring to be had in this room, I see. Your little bushy-headed girlfriend was always quite good at it.”

Harry jumped to his feet and sped across the room to the cell door. He slammed his fist against the bars. “Shut your mouth. Don’t you dare speak about Hermione to me ever again!” Harry shouted.

“Oy, Weasel Wife. Can’t you hose him down or something? All of this anger is ruining my dinner.”

“Who are you anyway? Do you have a rude comment for everything?” Andie replied. Harry saw her throw her bread into her own bowl and take her forehead in her hands.

Malfoy didn’t respond, but Harry could hear him murmuring lowly in his cell. Determined to ignore him for the rest of the night, Harry turned back to the food on the table. Taking a deep breath, he took up the bowl and spooned some of the stew into his mouth.

Of course, it was wonderful and still hot. Harry settled down on a small bench, the only other piece of furniture in his cell, and began to eat his meal. The others remained quiet as well and before long, Harry felt a heady drowsiness envelope him.

“You need to sleep, Harry,” he heard Andie say quietly.

He opened his eyes and removed his glasses, pressing gently on the bridge of his nose. “I know,” he replied, whispering. “But I can’t. I need to figure out a way to get us out of here.”

Andie looked at him nervously before glancing in direction of the guard. Harry had seen him a handful of times – the cloak and hooded wizard seemed to make regular sweeps of the dungeon, silently testing the wards on each cell and using a wand to clear the used dishes from their cells.

Harry shrugged his shoulders, as if to tell her he simply didn’t care. He was beginning to think there was no way to break out of their cells – the dungeon had been well built and even though the bars were rusted, the entire cell was well warded. He hadn’t even felt the low hum of magic as he’d attempted to wandlessly cast a spell; it was simply as if he’d never been able to do magic.

Andie took a deep breath and walked over to their shared wall. He met her at the bars and was surprised when she took his hand.

“You have to take of yourself, Harry. You have some role to play here, even if we don’t know what it is. You can’t take unnecessary chances by not sleeping or eating; it just isn’t sensible.”

Her face was so very serious and yet kind. Her tone had been like a sister or an old friend. Finally, after an overly long silence, he took a deep breath and nodded. As if to prove his understanding, he took a few steps towards the corner of the cell and began to take off his robes. Down to just a t-shirt and jeans, he spread the thick cloth over the hard stone floor and settled in for the night.

***

“Do you feel, Potter, that you have done enough to earn the love of those around you?”

“What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?” Harry snapped. It hadn’t taken long to discover that while Snape proved to be a fairly good mentor, he was prone to asking stupid questions that made Harry want to hex his slimy face right off.

“It means exactly what I said, Potter. Have you earned the love of your friends? Those you consider to be your, how did you put it? Ah yes, adopted family. Not of course, that I condone your choice of adopted families.”

“I don’t have to earn their love,” Harry replied, his voice low. “That’s not the kind of people they are.”

Snape looked at him blankly. Snape disappeared.

There was only him. In the whole world. He looked around, seeing only an empty beach stretching into the difference. On his right side, there was white sand, strangely blinding against the deep, gray sky. To his left, endless ocean colored like pencil lead. He looked back, and then ahead. Closing his eyes, he turned and began walking.

Before long, he knew that he was not alone. There were footsteps in time with his, a light breathing that was coming from another set of lungs. He turned and saw, with a shock, his own mother, walking along next to him as if it were an everyday occurrence.

“It’s pretty here, I think. A place of solitude,” she said without turning to look at him.

“It’s nice,” he replied lamely, looking down at his own shoes. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react to this.

They walked along in silence for several minutes before Harry began shifting around uncomfortably and clearing his throat.

“What is it, Harry?” she asked, finally turning to look at him as they slowed to a stop. She was young still, her red hair vibrant and her emerald eyes flashing brilliantly. He saw, for the first time in his life, unconditional, motherly love. He knew what it felt like now: a shield of armor. He was wrapped in it and it protected him. He understood finally what had harmed Voldemort, knew then what sort of sacrifice his mother had given for him.

“Do you regret it?”

“Regret what, darling?”

“Dying?”

“Never. You are my child, you are meant to carry on after I am gone. Life is the best gift I could ever give you Harry, and I was lucky enough to get to do it twice.”

He wiped at his face, surprised to find wetness there. His mother leaned up and kissed him gently on the cheek.

Like the wind, she was gone from him and he found himself alone on the beach once more. They had walked a fair distance and Harry noticed for the first time the scattered rocks and boulders in the sand. He spotted a tall, fairly smooth boulder and sat upon it, gazing quietly out over the water.

“Hello, Harry.”

“Hello, Professor,” he answered quietly, turning to look at Dumbledore. For some reason, he was not surprised to see his old teacher and mentor.

“You have made this very hard, Harry,” Dumbledore said. His familiarly twinkling eyes belied the serious expression on his face. “We had so much to teach you, we thought. But here you are, and the only thing that will happen is that you will receive the many gifts love has to offer you.”

Harry’s expression must have given his confusion away, for Dumbledore chuckled lightly.

“You have seen so much in your young life, and you will see so much more, but for this journey, I think what you have now will be enough. You will see, Harry, that love can drive men to do foolish, hateful things. There are so many kinds of love, and not all of them are good.

“You have already seen the consequences of a selfish love. Tom Riddle loved only himself and is doomed to a dark, dark life. You have seen mothers die for their sons, friends for each other.”

“I’m not sure what this has to do with, well, anything, sir.” “Ah, of course you do, Harry. Ultimately, Harry, it will be love that will save you. Mark my words.”

“What do you mean?”

“Who are you talking to, Harry?”

Harry stood from his boulder and spun around. Ron was sitting on a driftwood log, smirking lightly at him. “You’ve gone round the bend, haven’t you? Talking to people that aren’t there?”

“You’re not really here.”

“How do you know?”

Harry opened his mouth, but didn’t speak. Ron made a very good point.

“Anyway, I thought I’d check in with you; make sure everything is alright. Hermione’s going nutters trying to find some sort of great, secret weapon.”

“It’d be nice if she could find one.”

“Well, of course. But we’re probably have to do everything without any sort of planning, like always.”

“Probably.”

“You know I’m behind you no matter what, right Harry?” Ron asked, his voice and expression finally turning serious.

Harry nodded wordlessly.

“Good. Come find me when you’re done then, doing whatever this is.” Ron smiled at him and stood up. Without another word, he turned back from the way Harry had come. After several yards, he disappeared.

Harry felt a surge of loyalty rush through him. Ron had been his first friend, his best friend. Their friendship had had its troubles, but in the end, he could always count on Ron. If his mother’s love had been like armor, his love for Ron was like a weapon. It kept him confident and secure.

Rising to his feet again, Harry began the long walk down the beach again. After some time, he saw a lone figure seated in the sand fifty yards away.

“Hermione?” he called as he got closer. Her hair was wild and bushy, free of the elastic band that had kept it under control during all their hard work over the past several months. She turned to look up at him and smiled.

He was struck by her; her eyes looked tired and there was an ink stain on her cheek. Her hair was kinky and frizzy and her skirt was wrinkled. But she smiled at him and the world fell away. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on.

“Hi, Harry.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you. I knew you’d get here eventually.”

“This has been an experience, so far, of everyone knowing a whole lot more than me.”

Hermione burst out laughing, her head falling back. She grinned fully at him and began to stand up, holding her hands out to him for balance.

He grasped her thin fingers and when she was upright, he bent his head to kiss her hands gently. “Thank you for waiting for me, Hermione.”

“I’ll always wait for you,” she whispered. She leaned in, kissing him gently on the corner of the mouth. He looked at her, surprised. She gave him a small smile and reached up to place her hand on his cheek.

“I love you, Harry Potter.”

And he knew that she did not mean as a friend or as a brother. The words were full of promise, of happiness and of life. He realized in that moment that she was his heart. She was steady and sure, she kept him on the right path.

***

Harry’s eyes snapped open and he looked around his cell. He had awoken that day in Snape’s potions dungeons, confused. His head was filled with odd images of his mother and Ron… and something else that he couldn’t place his finger on. Snape was wearing a very worried expression, but remained silent about what had happened to Harry. Their lessons ended after that and it wasn’t long before they fought Voldemort in the graveyard.

Now, however, he could remember everything. His words with his mother and Dumbledore. He felt Ron’s loyalty. He felt Hermione’s encompassing love.

He understood finally, what Dumbledore had been saying all those years ago. Love was his most powerful weapon, now that the last puzzle piece had fallen into place. Hermione, he knew, without a doubt, was on her way to rescue him. She wasn’t coming out of loyalty or friendship; she was coming because she loved him.

***

Hermione flipped the small coin-like talisman in her fingers. The other teams were gathered behind her, waiting for her lead.

With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and tapped the talisman with her wand.

It was not unlike Apparating, but she felt as if there was something else as she traveled to the Unplottable castle. An extra little squeeze or something, though she couldn’t properly put her finger on it. She alighted on top of a tall hill overlooking a green, wild-flower filled valley. Wherever she was, it was broad daylight, which she knew would work to their disadvantage.

Lying down in the grass, she edged across the top of the hill to get a better view of the valley. The castle loomed over everything, casting a dark shadow and looking oddly out of place. She took out a small pair of omniculars and scanned the ledges of the castle wall. Counting quietly under her breath, she noted the six sentries stationed at various points. They were oddly positioned however; three of the wizards were stationed closest to a lone tower at the farthest end of the plaza.

She scanned the rest of the grounds quickly and after she was satisfied with her initial reconnaissance work, she began preparing to bring the teams in. Working speedily, she cast several concealment charms in a ten foot circle. Setting her talisman in the grass, she muttered another charm and tapped it once again.

Ron’s team appeared readily, looking somewhat out of sorts at the strange feeling of almost-apparition. After making two hand motions to direct his team, Ron stood next to Hermione and watched as she quickly counted heads. Fred, Charlie, and Ginny were joined by Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas. A young witch named Fae rounded out the first team and Hermione was satisfied to see that they had all made it in one piece. Not wanting to waste anymore time than necessary, she quickly set about casting the circle a second time. This time, Ron added his talisman to the circle and in a few seconds, Remus’s team had joined them. She counted again: Shacklebot, Bill, George, Neville, Luna and Parvati Patil.

“What’s our position?” Remus asked quietly, looking out over the valley.

“Six stationed on the walls, no one else is visible. Tracing spells show no activity,” Hermione replied.

“Are we still using the same point of entry?” Ron asked.

“Yes. The southern entrance to the cellar is actually in the plaza, opposite that large tower. There’s an entrance in the walls on that side as well.”

“I can’t believe we’re going to stroll right through the front door,” Ron replied.

“We aren’t,” Hermione answered. “I’m going to go through, get to the dungeons, and then bring you in.”

“A lot of things have to go really well here, Hermione.”

“Oh? I hadn’t noticed, Ron.”

She turned from him and scanned the castle grounds once more.

“We need to head down. Each team will need to travel in tight quarters; we can’t risk the concealment spells being dislodged. The circles are centered on your talismans.”

It took them nearly twenty minutes to circle the grounds and reconvene near the planned wall location. Hermione was leading the group, with Ron right behind her. Moving swiftly, but carefully, they evaded the sentries closest to their entry point. With another careful hand signal from Ron, the teams crouched low in the overgrown grass and waited. The castle was very old and its walls were made of rough rock. She knew from looking at the blueprints that there was an old door along the wall they were standing in front of, but it appeared to have been magically concealed.

“Finite Incantatem,” she whispered, moving her wand over the area of wall in front of her. After a few long moments, there was a slight shimmer on the surface and an old, creaky-looking wood door appeared. There were a few murmurs from the group behind her, but Remus quieted everyone as she continued to work.

Hermione tapped her wand against the door gently, checking for wards. She was surprised to note that only the most basic wards had been used and she disabled them with careful precision. Ron watched as she worked, a look of concern on his face.

“Something’s not right,” he whispered quietly, so that only she could hear.

She nodded once in agreement before tapping her wand gently to the handle of the old wooden door. It swung open quietly. Another quick wand scan revealed that no other security wards had been disturbed. After exchanging another worried glance with Ron, she stepped over the threshold and waited.

Almost instantly, she sensed she had tripped something. Wand scans revealed no additional wards inside the castle walls, but she couldn’t escape the feeling that she had set off an alarm. She checked her own concealment charm once again before moving along the edge of the wall. When she reached the area containing the entrance to the cellars, she stopped and checked for additional security measures. There were no signs that anyone had picked up on their presence in the area, but it did nothing to calm her fraying nerves. Sensing something was amiss and still feeling generally uneasy, she stayed low and carefully checked the area around her. After a few deep breaths, she began moving through the packed dirt of the courtyard, using spells to clear her footprints.

It was an easy enough task to locate the stairs that led down into the cellars underneath the castle. Continuing to follow their plans, she quickly pulled up the wooden door and descended the steps. Her feet hit flat ground and she moved towards the closest wall, crouching low in the antechamber she found herself in. It was dimly lit by a handful of torches mounted on the rounded walls. The circular room had two long hallways leading off in opposite directions, a set of stairs leading up and a set of stairs leading down. She circled the room, pausing briefly at the stairs leading up and wondered how close the wall of the actual castle had been to the entrance she had come through. Tossing aside her curiosity, she finished checking for more wards before using her talisman to bring in the rest of the teams.

As soon as the first wizard hit the ground, a loud boom sounded in the distance, coming from the direction of the large tower at the other side of the castle compound.

“We need to head downstairs! Let’s move!” Hermione commanded. The group of fifteen or so wizards condensed into narrow lines and they began descending the stairs to what she hoped was the dungeon. Though they had studied blue prints of the castle, it appeared to have been changed on the inside. Nothing was even remotely similar to what their maps had displayed.

As they clamored deeper into the castle, she heard voices calling out. They reached the bottom of the staircase and started down a long hallway. There were voices and rumblings above them, but she was unable to determine if there was any sort of movement towards their location. Ron had fallen back next to Shacklebot and they were setting various magical booby traps after the teams had moved farther down the hall. Remus had moved up to her right side and they continued their trek, keeping silent and moving swiftly. Soon enough, they found themselves in another rounded chamber, where this time they were faced with two doors. What had been a rumble upstairs was now a full roar and she had to concentrate harder than usual on the problem at hand.

Remus gave her a hand signal and they immediately separated into two groups. He took the door on the left and she the one on the right. After a countdown from three, they simultaneously sent wand blasts at the doors, the strange orange light bouncing through the hinges, the lock and twisting around the handle before disappearing through the wood itself. It was a standard battering charm that she had come up with during the war. It took away any physical security the door offered and unless it had been specially warded, the door typically fell into the next room or hallway.

Both doors fell without as much as a squeak. She looked at Remus nervously, but he nodded for her to go ahead. She looked carefully around the corner of her own door and was relieved to see what looked very much like a dungeon. After making sure that the other door had been put back into place, she made nervous eye contact with both Remus and Ron. Ron left Shacklebot and came to her side, pressing a hand gently to her shoulder and nudging her forward.

As soon as she set foot inside the narrow, dark hallway a voice called out to her.

“Who’s there? Announce yourself!”

Her heart thudded as she recognized the voice. “Harry!” she shouted and began moving quickly through the empty cellblock. She rounded a corner and immediately, both Andie and Harry came into view. She heard Ron swear softly behind her as he came round the corner.

“Ron?” she heard Andie whisper as her red headed friend pushed gently past her. She immediately focused her eyes on Harry and nearly cried at the sight of him. She’d hardly slept at all in the past forty-eight hours. Every minute had been spent thinking about him and how to get him home. As she scanned over his dark hair, piercing gaze and dusty clothes, she felt exhaustion settle over her. They were together now, and at least he would be with her through the rest of this whole ordeal.

“Harry,” she said quietly as she unlocked the cell door. He watched her as the door opened and as soon as he could move through it, he was in the hallway and had scooped her into his arms. She felt tears slide down her cheeks as he breathed into the side of her neck. She had her arms tight around him and was fighting the urge to sob outright.

“Harry, Harry. I’m so sorry – it took forever to get here.”

He pulled back and held her face in his hands. His eyes searched hers for something and he seemed to have found whatever it was, because he gently pressed his lips against hers.

At first, she was stunned and then grateful for the taste of him. Her enjoyment, however, was cut short by the fear that everyone in the room was looking at them.

Ron, however, was so absorbed in his wife that you could have dropped an anvil straight on his head. The rest of their team was surrounding some cell farther down and around another corner. Harry had a look of understanding on his face as he brushed the hair from her face.

“I knew you’d find us,” he finally said, chuckling softly. “You always were loads brighter than any dark wizard we’ve come across. I don’t even want to get started on these Brotherhood clowns.”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me. That name is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

He laughed and pulled her into another hug. She allowed herself to enjoy the closeness for a few moments before stepping back and assuming a more business-like attitude.

“What’s going on here, Harry? What about the kids?”

“I haven’t seen them at all – Andie said she hasn’t seen them since she was taken. Oh, and you’re not going to believe it. They’re holding Draco Malfoy down the hallway there. I’ve not seen him yet, but he’s not shut his gob in three days.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Harry shrugged. “Other than that, I don’t know much. I’ve not a single guard down here all day, though we usually have one posted. Malfoy said that before I was captured, he was run through a series of these different tests everyday. He’ll be able to tell us more about whatever that’s all about.”

She pursed her lips as she mulled this new piece of information over. “It fits, you know. Malfoy is a very strong wizard and there is no known Muggle blood in his family for generations and generations. I’d imagine they’d want to know why.”

“You seem to know more than I do.”

She smiled wryly at him and nodded. “I’ve got my theories about these guys and what they’re doing, but I still don’t know who they are.”

“Well, how did you get down here? Did you see anyone you recognized?”

Hermione shook her head. “We didn’t really see anyone, Harry. It was the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen- only six sentries to guard the whole compound. Something just seems off – even our concealment charms are all in tact.”

Harry appeared worried at this and nodded once. “It’s time we get moving. Let’s get Ron and the others and get out of here. Have you brought my wand?”

“Of course. The swapping charm still works perfectly, though I doubt you’d have gotten much use out of it anyway. There’s no magic in your cells, but it’s perfectly usable in the halls. Did they take the fake?”

“Shortly after I arrived. Still love all your little handy-dandy war charms. No one even looked twice at the fake wand.”

“We’ve got Andie’s as well. It turns out that Ron had placed the charm on hers ages ago and had forgotten about it. When I had him retrieve yours, hers was nestled right along beside it.”

She handed the holly and phoenix wand to her friend and smiled. He took it gladly and held it at his side as they walked to Ron and Andie.

“We need to be moving along,” Ron said as they approached. “Andie says they’ve got the Ferret over there?”

Hermione and Harry both nodded.

“Are we to take him as well?”

“We need to see if he has any useful information for us,” Harry replied.

Ron shouldered his pack and held his hand out for his wife. He led the group down the hallway towards the other gathered Order members.

They were standing around a still-locked cell as a tall, thin and very arrogant young man stood, telling them all off silently.

“We’ve shut him up for awhile, mates,” Neville Longbottom said cheerfully.

Malfoy shot him a deadly glare and Hermione couldn’t help but smile. Draco Malfoy was exactly as she remembered him. Smart, witty and easily the biggest arsehole she’d ever met. He was a pompous pain and knew it.

“Alright, everyone. We need to make sure Malfoy here gets one of the extra supply packs. And someone needs to take that charm off his mouth – he’s going to lead us to this Brotherhood,” Harry said. Hermione stood next to him and watched as Neville took the spell off of Malfoy.

“So you do have a brain after all, Potter. Ah, the many miracles of the wizarding world.” Malfoy frowned as Ginny handed him the extra supply pack. She looked at him with a completely blank face and Hermione remembered how much Ginny had hated Malfoy at Hogwarts. Hermione knew for a fact that Ginny still suffered occasional nightmares about everything that had happened her first year.

After Malfoy was settled with his pack, they arranged in two lines again and began the moving back the way they had come in. They reached the antechamber and began slowly climbing the dark and narrow flight of steps that seemed to be curving ever upward.

“Harry,” Hermione whispered.

“Hm?” he replied, looking back at Malfoy as they continued to climb into the spiraling darkness.

“We’re climbing a tower, Harry.”

“So?”

“We didn’t come in under the tower; we came in on the opposite side. There’s no way we could have reached it by now,” she said, beginning to feel the unease coming back to her.

“Hermione, what does that mean?” Harry asked, a tone of urgency in his voice.

“I think I’ve led everyone into a trap, Harry. I tried something when I came in and now I think we’re being led somewhere.”

“Malfoy!” Harry called out, stopping his upward trek.

“What?” Malfoy replied, annoyance lacing his voice.

“Where are you leading us?”

“I told you, Potter. We’re going to the lab that they took me to, every bloody day since Christmas.” Malfoy rolled his eyes and looked down at his fingernails.

“They took you into a tower?”

“Not quite. There’s a passageway a little farther up that connects to a different building,” Malfoy answered, in a way that suggested Harry was perhaps the biggest idiot he’d ever met.

“You’re positive?” Harry replied, sizing Malfoy up carefully.

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

Harry waved his arm forward and they continued moving upwards. He turned only once to look at Hermione and she got his meaning loud and clear.

Be ready.

They were walking right into a trap. She guessed they had traveled up at least three stories when they finally reached a long, brightly lit hall; Harry raised a hand to stop everyone and peered down the long hallway with Hermione.

The hallway stretching in front of them had to be nearly 50 yards long and the entire south wall was made of large, brightly colored windows, all depicting various wizarding stories and legends in stained glass. The opposite wall was lined with a single set of double doors and various wizarding tapestries.

She looked carefully at the closest one and gasped. It depicted a group of wizards riding through a Muggle village on the backs of manticores. The tiny embroidered figures dashed through the main thoroughfare, tossing bursts of magical flames into the houses from their wands. Harry looked at the tapestry and looked at her, his expression guarded. He slowly turned to face the Order members.

“This is a good place for an ambush – I want one-third to stay behind and the others will separate along the solid wall to the right. Steer clear of the windows and keep tight together. The concealment charms ought to hold up.”

The group did as instructed, with Hermione opting to stay back with the last group. Harry led everyone into the hall, with Ron right behind him. She waited with baited breath as they moved towards the large door, counting the steps towards it.

Malfoy gestured to the door and Harry finally motioned for Hermione’s team to follow.

They moved quickly to the other group and waited as Harry began to speak.

“Malfoy, you’ll come with Hermione, Ginny, Ron and me. Remus and Shacklebot, stay out here with everyone else until I give the signal that it’s safe to come in.”

Remus nodded and stepped back with the others. Hermione stepped forward and began her standard wards test against the door. A simple Alohomora opened the door and she moved aside to let Harry go through first.

The room on the other side of the door was obviously some sort of lab, and a very large one at that. It was a windowless room; Hermione could barely make out the closest row of cabinets in the light streaming in from the hall.

They all stepped in the room, shoulder to shoulder, wands out. Hermione was not surprised when the large doors slammed behind them; Harry had separated the rest of the team for a reason.

As the doors slammed, a hundred torches burst to light on the walls and the air filled with the sounds of dozens of pops. She saw the forms of black-clad figures materialize around the room and released that they were completely surrounded. A figure near the center of the group stepped forward and slid his hood away.

“My father was right you know. He said that your friends would come after you without hesitation, Potter.”

At that precise moment, Ginny Weasley fainted dead away. In near perfect choreography, Harry used the distraction to toss a hex at Tynan Lahey while Draco Malfoy rushed forward and caught Ginny, pulling her into his arms with shocking tenderness.

---

Author's Note:

Thanks for reading and thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Also, many thanks to my beta, Neil.