Harry Potter and the Chest of Death

Chapter 9: The Calm Before the Storm

"Hermione," Harry whispered to the darkness below him, "let me down." Harry slowly came back down. His brain felt like it was about to explode inside his head. He could not believe what had just happened. The Chest of Death was gone.

"Do you have it?" Ron asked when Harry finally touched ground.

"It wasn't there..." Harry couldn't believe it.

"It was gone? Who do you think has it?" Hermione was distressed, and it was evident in her tone. Her hands were shaking.

"Well, it could be Voldemort," Harry said. "I don't think so though. Those men that were here the other night really had no idea where to look. My bet is that it was Kevin. He probably was trying a final effort to get his dad out of jail." Harry wasn't sure if this was logic, or just hopeful thinking. The Chest in the hands of Kevin would be safer than with Voldemort.

"Kevin?" Hermione asked. "There's only one way to know for sure..."

"We beat him into submission?" Ron looked at Hermione who shot him an angry look. "Just kidding. Don't worry. We'll just ask him...I mean we know about his dad...that's an ace in our pocket."

"Well, it's too late to talk to him now. We'll have to wait until tomorrow. Come on, Michelle's waiting for us." Everyone else agreed with Harry, and they headed slowly back towards the common room under the protection of the Cloak.

"It wasn't there?" They were now back in the common room, and Michelle could not believe what was being told to her. "Gone? No trace of it?"

"None," Harry replied. "We'll see what we get out of Kevin tomorrow, but if he doesn't have it, I don't know where to look..."

"Let's just take it one step at a time," Hermione suggested. "Maybe it was moved by Dumbledore...or maybe it was taken out of there because it was too obvious a hiding spot...we don't know. We have to work one theory at a time, or else we'll get jumbled and lost."
"Hermione's right," Michelle said. She sighed heavily. "It's too late to worry about this now. Tomorrow's Christmas Eve. I'm sure we'll all be in a better mood and ready to tackle this new challenge." She couldn't deceive Harry though. It was evident in her body language (fidgeting with her hands) that she was terrified.

When Harry awoke on Christmas Eve a light snow was falling onto the grounds of Hogwarts. He dressed in the sweater of a dragon Ron's mom had made him. It was cozy and warm, and Harry almost forgot about the task of "interrogating" Kevin today. Harry hoped that Kevin had taken it. If he had at least they would know where it was, and maybe he hadn't given it to Fudge yet...that is of course assuming that he had it at all.

Not seeing his friends in the common room, Harry headed down to the Great Hall. Before Harry could sit down at the table, Ron, Hermione, and Michelle shot up. "Harry," Ron said pointing to the end of the table, "Kevin's over there...Let's go talk to him now."

"Good idea Ron," Harry said as he and his friends headed over to the spot where Kevin was.

Harry and Ron sat on either side of him, and Michelle and Hermione sat directly opposite him. "Hey," he said, looking at them all. "You guys need something?"

"We just want to talk to you about something, Kevin," Hermione smiled at him and Ron rolled his eyes.

Harry cleared his throat, "Kevin, we know you've been funneling information to Fudge. We need to know what you've said or given to him."

"There was never anything to give, all of you are locked up tighter than McGonagall's knickers," Kevin said with a pout.
"Hey, did you learn about the Chest of Death yet?" Michelle asked with a broad smile. She fluttered her eyelashes at him.

Kevin blushed, "Yes."

"Did you say or do anything for Fudge that involved it?" She put her hand on top of his, "Don't worry Kevin, we won't tell anyone, we just really need to know. It may literally be a matter of life and death."
Kevin make a soft cry, "I saw Harry looking at something that sort of resembled it one day, and I figured if it was that important to him, maybe Fudge would want it and I could get my dad set free..."

"It's okay," Michelle said as she patted his hand. "What happened?"

"Well, I went to the doors of the Great Hall last night at about 9 o' clock, but I heard voices so I stayed out of the way...I was scared."

Ron seized Kevin by the shoulder, "What did they say!"

"Ron!" Michelle exclaimed. "Leave him alone!" Her face softened and she looked at Kevin, "Take your time."
"Well, there was an American there...I could tell by his accent. He was with someone else. They said something about getting the Chestie back to their boss who had big plans for it. I got scared so I ran away..."

"Thanks Kevin, I know this wasn't easy." Michelle squeezed his hand and they all got up, and rushed back to the common room.

Once in the common room, they were gathered around a table. "So, those men Kevin heard must be the same guys that killed Mrs. Norris. They have the Chest!" Harry was angry with himself for not getting to the Chest sooner. Those men worked for Wormtail, who was Voldemort's 'servant.' The chances of getting the Chest back now were slim to none.

"Well, what are we going to do now?" Hermione looked at him with fear instead of her usual concern.

"'Isn't is strange how we move our lives for another day; Like skipping a beat'..." Michelle said.

"Huh?" Ron questioned with a frazzled brow.

"It's Dave Matthews Band. It's from Before These Crowed Streets; the song is Pig. I'm only saying what can we do now? Tomorrow's Christmas. If Voldemort has the Chest, he'll find Harry before we could ever hope to find him. Let's just prepare ourselves for when he comes, instead of freaking out about it. I'm scared. I've never been this afraid, but what can I do but be ready?"

The group was silent. They all looked at each other. A clocked ticked in the background. The fire was crackling softly, and the snow showered on outside the window.

No one knew what to say. What could they do? Harry felt powerless. His heart sank slowly and it seemed that a gray haze was coming over his eyes.

"Hey," Michelle said with a soft voice, "do you think we could write a spell? I mean, what do we need to do to write one?"

"I don't know," Hermione said putting her hand on top of her head and getting a quizzical expression. "I bet I could find out..."

"Try. Maybe we could write a protection spell, or a prediction spell, or maybe a spell to counteract what's in the Chest."

"I don't think it will work..." Harry said with his eyes closed. "When I saw Voldemort last year, he made it seem like creating spells was draining and required a lot of experience, and no matter how much we study, if someone like Voldemort had trouble, then we will hardly be able to get out alive. I don't think it's worth the risk."

Hermione's hand dropped from its peculiar perch on top of her hair, "Maybe you're right. Can we really risk it?"

"I don't suppose so," Michelle said with a glum expression.

"It was worth a try," Ron said as he said looking at the table. "But, what do we do?" There was no answer that any of them could think of.

Hermione was drumming her fingers on the table, which usually meant that she was planning a research marathon. Ron's eyes were blinking slowly, and his mouth was slightly open. Michelle looked at Harry and her brown eyes seemed to be trying to tell Harry something. They seemed excessively wet, and glassy. She blinked and a single tear rolled down her soft cheek and trailed onto her chin where it hung for a moment before falling gracefully out of sight. Harry himself had a sinking feeling that he did not like. He felt defenseless, and almost infant like. The clock in the common room rang out loudly in the eerie silence.

"We better get to bed," Ron said with his eyes fixated on the table, "tomorrow is Christmas."

"That's right," Harry said. "I'd almost forgotten."

Harry woke up exhausted. He had hardly been able to sleep for fear of the disturbing news he learnt the night before. Then, an almost magical happiness came over him:

There was a large mound of presents in front of his bed.

Michelle and Hermione came in with their arms full of gifts too. "Good morning!" Hermione cheerfully said to them, "and a Merry Christmas!"

"Hermione and I thought that we all should open the gifts together," Michelle said as she sat 'Indian Style' on the floor between Harry and Ron's bed. Hermione did the same. They all proceeded to open their gifts. Hermione had a thin silver necklace that Ron had given her, which had a piece of sea glass as the pendent; Hermione marveled at how beautiful it was. She had even given Ron a light kiss on the cheek as a thank you. Michelle had given her a mesh tote bag which she said was great for bringing books back from libraries, she also had the book Harry had bought her.

Michelle had the stationary kit from Harry (who himself also received a kiss), the rucksack and patches from Ron, some fancy rings and headbands from her family, along with some pictures of her parents in Mexico.

Ron had three boxes of Every Flavor Beans from Harry, a book titled "Make Your Own Enchanted Broom" from Hermione, and a journal with a picture of Hogwarts on the front from Michelle (who unfortunately did not know about Tom Riddles diary, and therefore did not understand why he dropped it the second that he unwrapped it. Ron of course picked it up immediately and apologized, but Harry knew that it would most likely collect dust at the bottom of Ron's trunk.).

Harry had gotten a Quidditch poster from Ron, some protective Quidditch gloves from Hermione, and six boxes of Chocolate Frogs from Michelle that she had wrapped in blue paper.

They all had gifts like candies and such, and of course Harry had received a sweater from Ron's mother. This year's was red and it had a wand that looked like Harry's on it.

Perhaps the most surprising gift was Ron's sweater, or lack there of. Instead, he had gotten new robes for school. Ron was ecstatic and he put them on and walked around the dormitory for what seemed like far too long before finally sitting down again.

After they had had their fill of talking on a cold, hardwood floor, they all headed down to the Great Hall for a delicious Christmas lunch.

In the Great Hall, the chatter was cheerful. The enchanted ceiling had a new charm upon it so whatever was in the sky appeared magnified. This was especially beautiful when a snowflake became almost as large as the ceiling itself.

The rest of the holiday passed in complete happiness. Harry and his friends spent most of the time in the common room by the fire, or all sitting on Harry's bed and talking about all the merry things they could think of. Not one of them thought of the Chest, and who's hands it might be in now...When they all were too tired to talk anymore, everyone went to bed. Harry fell asleep almost immediately after his head touched the pillow.

*

Voldemort was in a damp cave in the Forbidden Forest. He paced the stone floor of what had been designated as his private area. Still, even in his meek surroundings he was filled with a tingly anticipation. Wormtail had performed well. The two brutes he had hired had succeeded in getting the Chest. What must have been a smile crept across his face. Right now, somewhere nearby, Wormtail was flying to him, with the Chest in his hands. Now, all that was left to do was to use it to get rid of Potter. Voldemort scowled. That stupid boy may have escaped him again last year, but this time he would not be so lucky. The Chest of Death had stories upon stories written about the evil squirming inside of it. He was not afraid of the Chest. He could not die. But, Potter would most certainly be terrified, and Voldemort planned to strike soon.

He knew it was in his best interest to lay low until he had the Chest, but he was too filled with the joy of Potter's impending death.

He pointed his wand to the top of the cave and whispered an incantation. Instantly the cavern was transformed. There was a large and regal chair facing a small fireplace. The walls, which were once clammy and cold, were now made of stone bricks, with paintings of famous dark wizards staring from them. Voldemort sat down in the chair. "Your time is almost up, Harry Potter. We shall see who is the victor at last." Voldemort laughed at this thought. It made him almost happy, though he wasn't exactly sure what the emotion did in fact feel like. "With the Chest, not even you can stop me. I will finally have my revenge!"

A sudden breeze blew into the room. Voldemort stood up. "Hello Wormtail. Have you brought it to me?"

A small and rounded man with watery eyes was dismounting a black broom. One of his hands was as shiny as platinum. He had a cloak drawn tightly around him. After putting the broom against the cavern wall he kissed the hems of his master's robes.

"Master, what happened in this cave?" he said with caution.

"I thought it best to make the dwelling more comfortable."

"Do you think that was wise, Master? What if you were seen?"

"Are you contradicting me!" Voldemort bellowed as he raised his wand.

"No Master! I would never! Of course you are right Master! I am sorry!" Wormtail recoiled, but remained on his knees.

"Never mind," Voldemort said with an air of impatience. "We have more important things to worry about. Do you have the Chest?"

"Yes Master." Wormtail pulled from under his cloak a mound of dirty fabric. He pulled it off to reveal a small chest that was bound with chains. He raised it up to his master with a trembling hand. "Here it is, Master."

Voldemort snatched it from him. "Good, very good." His mouth curled up into a grotesque smile. His red eyes seemed almost to bleed with pleasure.

"Master, should we try to open it now?" Wormtail was still on his knees and he looked down at the floor.

"Of course not you fool!" A rush of extreme red flooded Voldemort's face. "If we open it, then we won't be able to use it on Potter!"

"Of course, Master. I am sorry Master. Please forgive me." Wormtail seemed to be shaking so violently that at any moment he would explode.

"Shut up you moron! Get up! Go to the Death Eaters and make sure everything is in order. The time is near. It will all be bloody..."

"Yes Master," Wormtail said as he mounted the broom. He flew out of the grotto as quickly as possible.

Voldemort sat down with the Chest. He stroked it as if it were a pet. "Ah, my precious little friend. We are going to do great things, you and I. I will have my revenge on Potter, and the world will know that I have returned to claim my rule over all of mankind. Yes my lovely, that is what will happen, and you will help me get there..." He bowed his head down and placed his mouth on top of the Chest of Death and gave it what was a monstrous kiss. He resumed petting it with delight.

A few hours into the night, still awake, he began to imagine Potter's death. O, he hoped it would be slow and painful. He hoped that Potter would not even have a chance to say a word. He was so overjoyed by this dream that he began to laugh out loud.

In Hogwarts Harry woke up with his scar in more pain than he had ever known. He had dreamt something...what was it? He strained his mind to remember, but the images were like sand through a sieve. He sat up in bed for many more hours until the sun rose over the grounds, and slowly began filtering in through the window.

By the time he and his friends were down at breakfast, Harry had almost forgotten the entire unpleasant night. The only evidence it had even occurred were the dark circles under Harry's eyes. But, no one commented on them, and Harry seemed to forget it easily himself.

The days passed by quickly and without incident. Harry did not have another dream. He did have moments were he felt his stomach lurch, but he always attributed these to bad eggs, or lack of a proper meal.

It was almost New Year's Eve before the Chest was even mentioned again between Harry and his friends. It happened the day before the Eve.

"Harry," Ron began during a quite game of Wizard's Chess, "what are we going to do about the Chest?"

Harry dropped the knight he was holding. It broke on the board; its ivory white pieces scattering across the table, and dripping like sharp rain onto the floor. "What?"

"The Chest...should we be doing anything?"

Harry could feel Hermione and Michelle's eyes on him as well, and he failed to breath for an instant. When he finally did, he replied, "What would we do?"

Ron frowned. This was obviously not the answer he had wanted, but it was the one he was expecting. The realized truth was that the best thing they could was wait, there seemed to be no alternative.

Dumbledore had been away for the week, and there was no way for them to contact him, so they were left stranded with their own fear. It felt heavy in the space between them.