Vial Of Immortality

Chapter 2 – Ambush

Hermione looked up from the different books piling up on her desk. Two o'clock, already? She yawned widely, only dimly noticing that she had only gotten a few hours of sleep. Crookshanks was already sleeping peacefully on her bed. "Lucky cat," she muttered, listening to the contented purring the cat was emitting. Brushing off the fact that she had dark rings around her eyes from the rest she had been consequently lacking, she delved deeper and deeper into the book she was currently holding (Dark Potion Brewing for Dummies, Third Edition).

"An extended sleeping draught… no… foreveritaserum… no, no… love potions… definitely not…" She was about to shut the book and join Crookshanks in the Sandman's world when she stumbled upon the very paragraph she was looking for. "The Potion of Divinity!" she hissed, sitting up straight, and holding the book merely a few inches away from her face. She continued to read quietly:

The Darker aspects of Potion-making originated in Devon, England, with the concocting of the Potion of Divinity. Comparable to Flamel's Elixir of Life, this substance is slightly more coveted. When taken in, the potion can give you immensely great powers and can grant you immortal life. However, the powers bestowed are of dark origin, and can therefore only be used for Dark spells. No one has been able to successfully brew the right combination of ingredients to produce the exact effect the Potion has been suggested to have. There is only one Potion currently in existence. Concocted by a alchemist's accomplice by mistake, he recognized the evil content of the substance and poured the liquid into a small vial, sealed it with a spell, and after burning the parchment that contained the procedure, fled. A conspiracy of wizards is reportedly searching for that Wizard Artifact, now known as the Vial of Immortality.

Hermione twirled the small, cylindrical pendant in her hand, watching the purple liquid dance from one end to the other. It was a stunning disguise. A piece of jewelry can't be mistaken for the most highly coveted wizard artifact in the world. Her fingertips gently grazed the single engraved word that had betrayed its identity to her. "Immortalidad," she whispered into the air. She shook her head. "You-Know-Who must be going bonkers looking for this. There's no doubt about it. He's behind the conspiracy that the book mentioned." Running a hand through her hair, she furrowed her brows agitatedly.

"I need to keep it safe until I reach Hogwarts," she determined. "I'll need to send an owl to Dumbledore, as soon as… as soon as..." She tried stifling a yawn, but failed to do so. She yawned so enormously that Crookshanks woke up with a jolt. "Ugh, my back is killing me..." The letter could wait a day... Right now, however, what she needed to do was sleep.

Ever since her Aunt Celeste came home from an archeological dig in Cairo three days ago and brought her the gift, she had only gotten a handful of rest. "But this is more important," she said aloud, scolding herself for actually thinking about sleeping. She had known she had read about the Vial before—in one of her bedside readings, she reckoned—and she just couldn't pinpoint where she had exactly. She was literally driving herself off her rocker. She would have gone mad if she hadn’t found that tiny paragraph in that book just about now.

If You-Know-Who had gotten this… she shuddered at the thought. He would surely try to kill Dumbledore and most definitely, Harry. She couldn't let him kill them. She couldn't bear to think of Harry, her best friend and confidante, dead, all because of her. No, they wouldn't die.

Not when she could help it.

She gasped as she heard the fluttering of wings behind her, and let out a sigh of relief when she saw the familiar snowy owl. "Hedwig!" she cooed, leaning out the window to stroke the bird's head. "What have you got there? I say…" She knelt down and released the owl of its burden. "My my, how quickly he replies. He must be bored to tears, the poor dear...”

She tucked the necklace into her pyjama top unobtrusively and began to read Harry’s letter. She was smiling the entire time. It was like he was actually there with her, sitting beside her. She loved how they were so comfortable with each other. The fond endearments, the jabbing jokes, playing around in the common room, studying together... and of course, their late night talks when they would stay up into the wee hours of the morning, talking and laughing about another of Professor Trelawney's death sentences in this morning's Divinations or complaining about the load of work Snape had piled on them just that afternoon.
Oh yes, she and Ron and Harry were still the Gryffindor Trio but... nothing could ever compare to the special bond that she and Harry had developed and built over the last year. She, Ron and Harry still hung out together, of course, even after she and Ron decided to stop dating and just stay friends.

Ron never really noticed the changes in Harry’s and Hermione’s friendship. Moreso, he never really thought about where Harry had been going every midnight. And in a way, Hermione was relieved that he never asked. She got through days just because Harry was there to offer his unconditional support.

She bared her soul to him, spilling out her problems, goals and realizations. Why she had to be a top student, why she and Ron became an item and why they broke it off, why she was so bossy in their first year, why she was so insecure nowadays… what she thought of her fellow students and teachers, what she thought of Ron's new girlfriend, what she wanted to be when she grew up, what she felt whenever any of her friends, especially Harry, was in danger… and even after hearing all those things including her first impressions of him (a stuck-up snob who got everything he wanted) he listened. He even threatened to curse the bullies that terrorized her in her primary school. Of course he wasn't serious… she hoped. If they took one of those fashion magazine "How well do you know your best friend?" quizzes that Lavender and Parvati often took, they would have aced it.

It was him who triggered the change in her. He coaxed this hidden, sarcastic, joking side of Hermione to come out. When at first Ron thought that this sudden transformation was strange, he got used to it. Soon, he became comfortable with it, and laughed and joked along with them.

Harry. She sighed. She missed him. She missed him loads. The messy mop of black hair that she occasionally mussed up even more just to annoy him. Those green eyes that crossed in frustration whenever she explained the advantages of studying Arithmancy or discussed the rights of House-Elves. And his smile... the smile that was meant only for her. The smile that told her “Hermione Granger, you are my best friend in the whole world. I will always be there for you.” Yes, that kind of smile. Harry Potter and Hermione Granger would stick together through thick and thin.

No, she definitely wasn’t going to let him die.

Carefully folding the parchment, she placed it into her dresser drawer along with all the other letters she had received that summer. Strangely enough, the people who had sent her the most letters were Parvati and Lavender. ‘And why, oh pray tell, are they sending you letters?’ an annoying inner voice asked innocently.

She rolled her eyes. ‘Those girls are off their rockers! expecting me to wear Muggle cosmetics and perfume... and curl my hair with a Perming Charm! How ridiculous! And to think all I asked was "Which is better for me, curly or straight?"’ She peered into her dresser mirror and ran a hand through her hair. 'What do you reckon, eh?' She glanced at a framed picture of Harry and Ron on top of her dresser. 'Harold James Potter, you are such a mindless git. Bulgaria... humph... my parents plan a family reunion and my friends think it's a romantic rendezvous.'

The snowy owl was peering pensively at her. She fished around her drawers for an extra owl treat and watched Hedwig nibble her palm clean. “You better head back. Harry will be worried about you.” Leading the bird to her window, she watched her soar through the sky, a bright vision against a blanket of night sprinkled with stars. She watched until she was merely a speck of white among the stars before she closed the window.

She collapsed onto the bed, suddenly realizing how exhausted she was. Snuggling up to her crisp, white pillow that smelled lightly of jasmine, she pulled the blanket over her and tucked it under her chin. She yawned before she fell asleep, Crookshanks purring peacefully beside her after he had calmed down from his earlier shock. She drifted into slumber while thoughts of September 1st filled her mind.

She was so excited that she forgot to lock the latch to the window.

Shadows beneath her bedroom window moved ever so slightly, and a figure eased out of their protective cover. Surveying the invitation, he smiled maliciously before accepting.

* * * * * *

The figure Apparated into her room. Underneath the hood, he watched as the young teenager, sleeping peacefully, dreamed of happiness and green meadows and peace and love… or any of such juvenile thoughts running through a Mudblood's brain.

Voldemort's orders were simple. Bring her to him, and keep her alive. He ran a scrutinizing gaze over her sleeping form. Why Voldemort needed such a frail-looking pathetic witch was beyond his line of questioning. After all, how was he to know how the most powerful wizard in the world thought? He snorted almost mockingly.

He brought out his wand and with a flick of his wrist, long ropes appeared out of nowhere. Slowly, the ropes coiled around Hermione's still body, wrapping around her throat, her arms, legs and waist. Amazingly, she remained sound asleep until the ropes tightened abruptly, cutting off her circulation. She gasped sharply. Her lungs clawing wildly for air. She struggled to remain conscious, but it was difficult. The ropes were digging into her skin, burning it; making her feel like she was on fire. Her chest was tightening torturously from the lack of air and her cheeks were tearstained from the agony. She tried to scream but no words could come; she could only gasp and choke…

It hurt.

Make it stop.

Harry, Ron, anyone… make it stop. Please save me...

Harry!

"Petrificus Totalus," a cold voice muttered. Her whole body stiffened and she couldn't move. Her eyes darted around frantically to try and alert anyone to no avail. The ropes loosened and she could breathe again, but that didn't help her predicament. A cold feeling of dread crept upon her like a Dementor, only much worse. She cold sense the power, and she could tell it was another wizard.

A body bent over her and she stared into the shadowed face underneath a black hood that was the source of her pain. She nearly gasped. A black hood... that means... the figure lifted his hand to curse her again.

The Dark Mark.

On his hand.

Her heart pounded as he grinned maliciously at her. "Good night, Miss Granger." The rope tightened against her throat once more, and she slipped into darkness…

* * * * * *

The Malfoy home was furnished richly, as the Malfoy's were a well-off family. The study was no exception. Leather chairs, mahogany desks, polished bookshelves filled with dozens of books (The Guide to the Dark Arts, The Escapades of Ethlion the Evil, So You Want To Be A Dark Wizard? And others) and Persian rugs specially imported from a distinguished Iranian wizard company. Usually, this was Lucius' office. He conducted his business, signed paperwork and answered important calls here. It was strictly off-limits to anyone else, save himself and the house elves to clean (for Lucius always left numerous crumpled papers lying about). But tonight, it served a more important purpose.

Lucius Malfoy looked up as he heard the soft knock on his study door. He cursed under his breath. "What is it?" he hissed. "Who's there?" He stood up impatiently and took brisk steps to the door. He told Narcissa and Draco to leave them alone. They were discussing some important business and interruptions were greatly discouraged. He flung open the door and stared hard at the intruder.

"Farrely."

"Mr. Malfoy," the middle-aged man replied curtly, bowing his head a tad exaggeratedly.

"You were expected back hours ago," Lucius retorted hotly. "Lord Voldemort will not be amused at your lack of punctuality."

"I will be the judge on how to handle my followers Lucius," a cold voice murmured. They turned to the tall, robed man sitting in a high-backed leather chair. His scarlet eyes narrowed cruelly and a grave smile played on his thin lips. Farrely swept into a low bow and grunted, "I apologize for my tardiness. I assure you that it will not happen again."

"Make sure it doesn't Farrely. Time is of the essence," Voldemort chuckled tonelessly. His mirthless laugh sent shivers down Lucius' spine. They feared him. He was too powerful, too wise to be called human.

And that was what he wanted. To be feared, respected and obeyed. How long had he wanted to reach this level of power. If it weren't for that Potter boy he would have achieved that feat long ago. But he shouldn't think about that now. He would make Harry pay, oh yes, he would pay, a very high price. A life for a life. He would be getting all the benefits of the Potion, and he could finally overcome Dumbledore, that bumbling idiot Fudge and all his minions. The Dark would rule. He would stomp out all the Good and the Muggles and Mudbloods. They did not deserve the knowledge that they had acquired in Hogwarts. Soon, he would rule over them all. And Hermione Granger was the key to that. "Where is she? I would like to meet the infamous Miss Granger," Voldemort stated impatiently. He stared hard at Farrely. "Retrieve her."

Farrely obeyed, stood up and walked out of the room. When he was out of hearing range, he snorted disrespectfully.

"I still don't understand why you needed to waste your time with kidnapping that friend of Potter's," Lucius snapped bitterly. Voldemort smiled, "Patience Lucius. You will know soon enough. Ah, here she comes now." Farrely reentered the room, carrying the limp body of Hermione Granger in his strong arms. She was relieved of the Full Body Bind, yet she was still unconscious. Her lips were tinged with blue from the cutting of the circulation. If not for the faint rise of her chest, she would have been assumed dead.

Voldemort stood up. So this was she. The best friend of his enemy. How easy it was, to just kill her right then and there. It would be absolutely mortifying to Harry that his mortal enemy had killed his best friend. He chuckled. How tempting that sounded. To cause Harry as much pain as he had caused him. Yet, this Mudblood knew something. Something that he needed. Something that he had failed to retrieve several years ago. Now, it would be his.

Hermione opened her eyes slowly. She felt strange. She couldn't feel her arms and legs and her throat was raspy. She wondered why… Her sight cleared up and she realized she wasn't in her own home. What in bloody hell? Slowly, her brain started to function properly. She felt arms around her. Snatches of what had happened earlier made her stiffen.

"Mudblood," a voice spat out. It was a cold voice, so cold. It was a voice only described to Hermione during one midnight talk that caused Harry shiver. Only this time, Hermione was the one having to face it. She shivered
.
She was dropped onto the floor quite abruptly. She wanted to scream as her body met a hard, carpeted floor, making her already weak bones weaker. When she looked down, she saw a long black velvet robe, much like the ones that Hogwarts students used. Except it was the cloak that belonged to--

"You-you… it's you." Hermione choked out, her breath backing up in her lungs. The pasty face, the cruel red eyes that flashed, the slits for nostrils and the unforgiving smirk… that was how Harry told her Voldemort looked like. Hermione knew what Harry felt. The fear at his smug expression, knowing what he'll do will often lead to pain--a lot of it. Maybe even death. She shuddered, but forced herself to remain calm. She would stand up to him, just as Harry had two years ago.

"Me, books and cleverness--there are more important things. Friendship and bravery… and Harry, just be careful." She had uttered those words to him five years ago, on the day that he was about to meet Voldemort. She wished she could have some now. Especially the bravery part.

She took a deep breath, and heaved herself off the floor. "What do you want with me?" Hermione whispered, glaring at the tall man--if you could call him a man. Then suddenly, it hit her. Oh my--he wants the Potion… she realized with a jolt. Well, he's not going to have it. Not if I can help it.

"I think you know what I want, you Mudblood."

She gulped nervously, "I don't know what you're talking about. You're insane." Lucius' eyes widened at the insolence the girl had shown to the Dark Lord. He stepped forward, wand raised, to curse the girl, but Voldemort help up his palm. "No. This is our discussion, Lucius, . Not yours." He glared at him and he shrank back.

Voldemort looked down at the short girl. She has nerves to stand up to me knowing I can kill her in seconds. Unless… she thinks I cannot kill her because she has the Potion. He chuckled. This was too simple. He needn't even cast the Avada Kedavra… at least, not yet. All she needed was a little… persuasion. "You are so full of bravery Mudblood. Much like young Harry. I recall hearing that he is your best friend."

She shrieked with anger, "Don't you ever do anything to hurt Harry! I won't tell you anything! I won't give you anything! You… you… murderer!"

He threw back his head and laughed. A horrible high-pitched laugh that scared her, frightened her. "Call me a murderer if you want Granger. I prefer the term extinguisher. It is my role to extinguish all the Good, the Muggles and the Mudbloods. They tarnish the world of magick with their abuse of it. That includes you, your friend Ron and of course, Mr. Potter. Maybe you will change your mind if he accidentally got hit with the Avada Kedavra?"

She paled considerably, "You wouldn't…" Her voice cracked.

He held up his wand and it crackled ominously. "Do you really think I wouldn't? I've killed hundreds of people and I will not halt at the call of a sixteen-year-old Mudblood."

She glared. "What makes you so sure I have what you want? I don't even know what you want." She had to stall…

"Oh I'm perfectly sure that you know what I want." Voldemort raised his wand and shouted "Imperio!" before Hermione had the chance to escape.