Montane Hope

Chapter 12 (of 16)

Snape didn't bother greeting Draco when he arrived in his office the next Monday evening. On the desk in front of him was a large bowl of water. As usual, Draco spent the first ten minutes of the lesson attempting to protect his own brain and attack Snape's. Snape insisted that this was a vital part of Subneorancia - and he was frighteningly skilled at it. Draco was relieved when they were finished and ready to talk about the bowl of water.

"Water is a dangerous substance, Draco. You know what it is - two elements of the air constantly combining and changing under natural forces. With a change in temperature there is ice, water or steam. Muggles know about this, and manipulate it in many ways. Lacking the ability to fly broomsticks," he sneered, "and finally realising that natural oil is not replaceable, they have designed modes of transport that use water for their energy.

"In your reading you will have come across spirits and creatures of all types associated with the elements. You will decide whether to believe in spirits or not - except for the water ones. A wizard who disrespects the spirits associated with water is likely to find himself forced to admit their existence before long." His eyes narrowed when Granger tapped on the door.

"Come in, Miss Granger, and be silent."

Granger sat quietly while Snape continued to talk about the water spirits. As if there were any such things. Still unconvinced, Draco had barely left the room ten minutes later when the shouting began. Granger and Snape. It was uncanny, hearing Snape raise his voice so fiercely. He wondered how she ever learned anything in her half hour when all they did was argue with each other every lesson.

*

Even Draco was beginning to feel the tension as the exams drew closer. The weather was warm and sunny - perfect for practising Quidditch or lounging about the school grounds. Unfortunately the last Quidditch game for the year was over - Ravenclaw won - and every spare minute was spent revising. Draco had been briefly tempted when Lisa suggested moving their practise sessions outside, but declined firmly. The thought of a gaggle of first years hearing Lisa's music floating over the grounds and following it to the source was a bit too much. Especially after the Pansy incident earlier that term.

The start of the exams was almost a relief. Each day the nerves increased almost to breaking point, then you went in, did your stuff and when you came out it was over. The interims were important, but as long as you passed through into the next year they could be forgotten. The OWL and NEWT results were the ones that had to be recorded, and determined what sort of work a qualified wizard could do.

On the afternoon of the last exam Draco wandered into the grounds alone. It was hot, with a warm breeze blowing, and he wandered down to the water and threw stones into the lake. For a moment Snape's words about respecting the elements and creatures made him hesitate, but he decided to pretend that he hadn't learned that yet. First years had been throwing stones in the lake for years without coming to harm.

Draco's mother had owled him that morning, wishing him luck for his exams, typical that she waits till they're almost over to wish me luck, and informing him that Father had submitted another application for release. The letter had been carefully worded, but indicated that the Dark Lord was planning another major coup soon. 'Avoid Snape as much as possible. He's dangerous' the letter had concluded. That really puzzled Draco. His father and, he presumed, his mother, had always actively encouraged him to be friendly with Snape. It wasn't as if it was an easy task. And now he was suddenly being told to back off. Why? Is Elddir right about him being in danger?

He threw another stone, watching to see of the squid would rise for an instant. The Gryffindors were walking round the lake, also enjoying the release from their exams. In another week the school would be empty. Draco narrowed his eyes as they approached. The figure he had presumed to be Potter was actually Neville Longbottom. The trio stopped about ten feet away, looking out over the lake.

"Did you manage to scrape through then, Longbottom? It would be a shame to see you back next year."

Longbottom looked straight back at him. "I've returned every year to annoy you, Malfoy." Draco had expected Granger to answer for him. Bold Longbottom was a new concept.

"Neville didn't drop his wand during transfiguration," said Granger. "Unlike some people I could mention."

Yeah - that was an embarrassment. "It's so difficult to concentrate with all these Muggles and Squibs around," returned Draco.

"Puts you off does it?"

"Where's your usual hero? Don't tell me he's had to resit an exam."

"It's none of your business where Harry is. No doubt he's doing his best to avoid rodents like you. Come on." Granger turned away, Weasley and Longbottom following.

Rodent? That's getting a bit snarky.

Draco watched the three walk back to the castle, entirely missing the squid as it jumped clear of the water, waved all of its tentacles in the air then slid gracefully back under the surface without a ripple, till only one tentacle wearing a red witches hat topped with a large anemone of palest blue was visible. By the time Draco turned round, it too was gone.

If Potter's not with them, he's not on the Quidditch pitch, nor the library... He wandered along the edge of the lake, musing.

They don't wander about without him unless there's a good reason. Either they've finished him off during a hexing session - or he's gone. He'll be at that house they keep talking about, the one with the forty gallons of water.

What did they want forty gallons of water for? Is that for Potter to do his washing?

*

The next day it seemed as though the whole school was abandoning Hogwarts grounds. Exams were over and it was their last chance to visit Hogsmeade before the holidays. Draco wanted to buy some Honeyduke's blackcurrant Zing Zappers, and some fake mice for his father - he wasn't certain that Lucius would see the joke, but at least they would keep him occupied. Blaise had got some last term. The more you let out the funnier they were, chasing their tails and each other. He spent ages watching them in Zonko's that morning. He'd noticed them before, but hadn't looked closely enough at the display to realise that you could buy animated toads and snakes, and even a spider as well. He bought three white mice, two black ones and a spider - it was the last animated spider in the shop. In The Three Broomsticks he let a couple of the mice out on the table, where they approached each other cautiously and sniffed noses before trundling off to explore the table top. He put them back in his pocket when he was nearly finished his butterbeer. In a few minutes he thought he might wander over to the Shrieking Shack on the off chance of meeting up with Blaise and Pansy.

As he was thinking about this Granger, Weasley and Longbottom walked past the Three Broomsticks. He left his mug sitting where it was, and sauntered out after them.

"Hey Granger," he called. "You've left someone behind. Where's your friend Potter?" Granger swung round, a furious look on her face.

"It's none of your business Malfoy. Go and poke your big nose somewhere else."

"Touchy, touchy," he sang, knowing that that would infuriate her still more. She stalked off, her back held stiff. Weasley and Longbottom were nearly running trying to keep up with her. Draco kept the threesome in sight. He lost sight of them as they went round a corner where the road ran alongside the forbidden forest, and started running, so that by the time he turned the corner himself he was less than a hundred yards behind them. The Shrieking Shack was in sight and a tall figure walking swiftly towards them. The three stopped. Draco looked at the man and felt his blood chill - his father had described the Dark Lord's appearance too often for him not to recognise him. He wanted to edge off in to the forest, but stood rooted to the spot, too scared to move.

The man stooped to speak to Granger. It looked as though he was asking directions. There was nothing outwardly evil about his manner. The voice which carried to Draco was cold, and unusually high-pitched.

"Miss Hermione Granger? I believe you have some information for me."

"No, Mr Riddle. You are mistaken. I do not." The nerve of the girl! Draco watched her in admiration as the stranger straightened up - she didn't look anything like as scared as he felt. He trembled as the man's slit-like red eyes passed over him, holding his gaze for a second.

"Ah, Mr Draco Malfoy. Curious that you should be here. I know your father well." The words were faintly murmured, but, like Granger's, his voice was very clear.

Miss Hermione Granger - may I call you Hermione - I know that you have the information I want. Do not lie to me, girl."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Granger insisted. "Come on you two, we're going." She started to turn around, gesturing to Weasley and Longbottom to go with her, but You-Know-Who caught her wrist and pulled her round to face him.

"I don't think so, girl," he hissed. "You know where Harry Potter is. You are going to tell me."

With one swift movement he bent over and scooped Granger off her feet. She struggled and screamed but to no avail as he started carrying her towards the Shrieking Shack. Weasley and Longbottom looked at each other in consternation. Draco found his feet.

"What are you doing? Run. You can't let him take her away." He caught their arms and pulled them forwards, nearly knocking Weasley over.

"Quickly, come on!" He could hear Longbottom puffing and panting as they reached the shack. You-Know -Who had kicked the door open and was standing facing her, with his wand held high. The red eyes glowed fiercely in his white face. Hermione was crying.

"He's at Dover," she said, between sobs. "He's in Muddleworth's old house. We wanted him to be safe, we thought he'd be safe there." Voldemort raised his wand and muttered an incantation. Draco, who had barely had time to take in what Hermione was saying, saw her raise her hand as if to ward off the spells, and he covered his eyes. A split second later they exploded in a brilliant red and green flash, and a small voice in his head asked him why he was still standing there.

As soon as the lights had faded he rushed in, his eyes screwed up in pain as the after-image of the flash continued to obscure his vision. Hermione was lying on the floor, surely dead. No-one could withstand those spells. He pulled his wand out and turned on You-Know-Who. Neville was closing in on the Dark Lord from the other direction when the man vanished with a high, eerie laugh.

Draco's heart nearly stopped dead. Certain that the Dark Lord was gone, he turned round, intending to take Hermione's body back to the castle. She was sitting up looking at him. He did the only thing he thought he could do - apart from keeling over backwards in a faint - knelt down and hugged her. Weasley and Longbottom were staring. Granger gently pushed him back, stood up and dusted down her clothes.

"Come on Ron, Neville," she said in a commanding manner. "We need to go and tell Dumbledore the trap is sprung. Now! Don't worry about my wand Neville, there are other wands."

The four set off at a run, Neville trailing behind somewhat. With all the speed they could summon it was still fifteen minutes before they arrived at the front doors of the castle. Just inside the door McGonagall swept down on them.

"Is it time? Come quickly, I'll take you to Dumbledore." At a brisk walk she led them to the gargoyle, opened it and followed them up. Draco found himself standing outside looking at the inscrutable features of the closed gargoyle. No-one had said a word to him.

*

The corridors were still empty of students and teachers. Draco had walked nearly every corridor in the castle and now turned towards the Astronomy tower. From the top of the tower he saw students arriving back in twos and threes. It was nearly an hour since the three Gryffindors and Professor McGonagall had entered Dumbledore's office. He'd tried to think things through, but he was still as confused as could be. Only one thing was clear to him - Potter was right now in that house by the coast, hiding, and Voldemort was probably already there. Granger must have been his secret-keeper. There was no sense in it - appointing a sixteen year old girl as secret-keeper. He could only suppose that Potter had insisted.

Why hadn't she died? He had seen the movement of her hand just before Voldemort cursed her (now that he'd seen him, Draco felt it silly not to call him by his real name), and had thought it an automatic fear reaction. Now he wasn't so sure. Knowing her abilities, she was probably well advanced in areas of magic he had no idea of - but what protection could she possibly invoke that would save her from Voldemort? The spells hadn't harmed her at all; they'd just bounced around the room as though she'd been surrounded by an impenetrable shield.

Most of the students were back and it was close on dinner time before he finally decided to go and find Professor Snape. He probably won't be helpful, but it's worth a try...

Draco knocked at the door of Snape's office, waiting for a reply. There was none. Finally he turned away, went back to the dormitory and tried to concentrate on some light reading. Not for the first time, he wished there was someone in Slytherin he could confide in. Pansy and Blaise would listen, but they couldn't stand Potter and his friends. No-one in Slytherin did like them, knowing the way the three of them continually broke all the rules and disrupted the school.

*

At dinner the first thing he noticed was that Potter wasn't the only person absent from the Gryffindor table. Granger, Weasley and Longbottom weren't there. Maybe she's in the hospital wing. Draco made a mental note to find out. Then he noticed that the students at his table - all over the Hall in fact - were nudging each other and whispering. Pansy inclined her head towards the staff table, and he turned to look. Snape was nowhere to be seen. Nor is...

Tiny Professor Flitwick was sitting in Dumbledore's usual chair. That means... Draco counted back in his head. Flitwick was the fourth most senior professor in the school. Neither McGonagall nor Dumbledore was at the table.

"Must be something big to keep them all away from dinner," said Blaise. Students all round them were saying similar things, speculating on what disaster might have happened.

"Especially Dumbledore," said Pansy. Dumbledore never missed a meal if he could help it. He was very appreciative of the house-elves cooking. Draco nudged her and pointed at the Gryffindor table. She followed his gaze. "Oh S***. They're fighting the Dark Lord again, aren't they?"

"I wouldn't be so flippant about it Pansy." Draco's voice was dangerous, unconsciously imitating Snape. "That is indeed what they are doing." He felt his face muscles contract into a frown as he remembered the events of the morning - the fear he'd never experienced before, the deadly spells and the rush of adrenaline that spurred him to action. None of his friends could hope to understand - no-one who hadn't seen it could. Pansy turned away hurriedly and started up a meaningless conversation with Blaise. Draco left his plate untouched and walked out, knowing that every eye in the school followed him as he left.

*

At the hospital wing Madam Pomfrey was kind, but assured him that she had no charges at all at present. She even let him in to see for himself when he insisted. He walked back to the gargoyle outside Dumbledore's office. It seemed pointless trying to break in. He sat opposite the gargoyle for the best part of an hour, then quietly slipped out of the castle.

Hagrid was surprised - no astonished, or should that be absolutely astounded, to see him. Standing at the door, Draco felt quite confident he was going to be invited in. Hospitality was ingrained in Hagrid's nature; and big oaf he might be, but he was the only person left who knew Potter and Granger well. Fangs, who was lying by the fire, lifted his head, sniffed the air and went back to sleep.

"Come in Draco. You'll have a cup o' tea, won' yeh? An' how d'ye fancy some rock cakes, home-made." He took a four-pint mug out of a cupboard and laid it on the table next to the teapot as Draco sat down. "Ah, there's some smaller mugs here - look, you have Hermione's, she won' mind."

"Professor Flitwick's acting as headmaster now," Draco burst out. Hagrid was still opening cupboards trying to find things.

"Came to see me himsel'," nodded Hagrid. "Nice fellow, Flitwick. No' got Dumbledore's talent though. We'll be glad when he's back."

"You know what's going on, don't you?"

Hagrid stopped smiling. "Now that's more than I can say, Draco. An' why d'ye wan' ter know. Isn't your Dad...?"

"I won't tell my Father this. I was with them today when Voldemort found them. He knows where Harry is."

"Voldemort found them!" Hagrid had straightened up. "What was Voldemort doing here?" Draco winced. Hagrid was nearly ten feet tall and his voice right now matched his size. He put a rock cake down in front of Draco and lowered his voice. "Yeh'd better tell me about this. Are they okay?"

Draco told him everything he knew. Hagrid's eyes were piercingly keen; for once it was impossible to keep thinking of him as a big oaf. Why, he might even be in on their plans. He's certainly friendly with Potter and Granger. Hagrid laid his big head on the table when he'd finished. Draco sipped the strong tea, uncertain whether he'd done any good coming here. Perhaps he knew nothing anyway. He stared at the top of Hagrid's bushy head, wondering what else he could have done. It was several minutes before the half-giant - as Draco knew he was - sat up again. If Draco hadn't been so confused, he might have been amused at the tears beginning to overflow down Hagrid's red cheeks.

"Here." Hagrid swallowed violently and blew his nose. "Have some toffee."

"Now by righ'," he continued, round about the time Draco realised that his teeth were firmly stuck together and he couldn't answer, "I shouldn' tell yeh anything at all. 'Specially your Dad being wha' he is an' all. But yeh'll jus' worry if I don'."

Draco inclined his head. Hagrid looked sharply at him again, as though he knew more about Draco than he was willing to say.

"First of all, yeh're righ' abou' a few things. Harry," he blew his nose again, "is in tha' house, he is protected by the Fidelius charm and Hermione is his secret keeper." Hagrid thumped the table alarmingly. "If I had had my way - which I didn'... an' poor Molly Weasley in tears an' shouting at Dumbledore as she was... But Dumbledore - he's a good man yeh know. I think he wanted ter give them the chance. Wi' those three anyhow - yeh jus' canna stop them sometimes."

Fangs started whining when Hagrid thumped the table, till Draco threw him a toffee. He mopped up the tears again with a handkerchief that looked like a pillowcase, and continued.

"So the plan wen' ahead. An' not content wi' nearly killin' himself last term, Harry moved in on Thursday. You-Know-Who's got spies all over the place, it were only a matter of time till he foun' Harry weren' at Hogwarts and wen' after him. So it's up to him now. The others have gone to help, but it'll jus' be him and Voldemort, the way he wanted it."

Hagrid had crashed his head on the table again by the time Draco found his voice.

"But isn't there anything we can do to help? Voldemort could kill them!" Hagrid was howling now and Fangs made a rather pathetic attempt to join in with his teeth still stuck together.

Eventually he stood up and went out to wash his face at the water barrel. "Look Draco," he said when he came back, "there's no decen' wizard in the country would le' them - bu' Harry... and Dumbledore said le' him, and then Hermione offered to be secret keeper... an' they're on'y kids. Here, we'd better get you back up to the castle. Don' you worry abou' a thing."

*

Don't worry about a thing? Draco felt that knowing a little made things far worse. So Potter had willingly gone in as bait. And worse, he'd persuaded Hermione Granger to get involved as well. He never knew how he got through the next days. Dumbledore's office was being well used - not by Flitwick, but by Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood. Draco couldn't believe his eyes when he first saw Ginny open the gargoyle, then heard Luna singing to her from upstairs. He had been patrolling the corridors at the time, late in the evening. All the prefects were assisting with the running of the school. With three teachers gone he'd even supervised some study time which they would normally have covered - though he was so distracted he was sure he'd made an appalling job of it. Pansy was looking more pale and tired every day as she carried her share of the prefect duties.

Next time he walked down that corridor an owl swooped over his head, carrying a message. It perched on a torch until Ginny Weasley's voice called to the gargoyle to open and let it in. The following day Kingsley Shacklebolt, an auror he recognised from when he'd accompanied his Dad to the Ministry, said 'good day' to him in the same corridor. He stopped to talk for a few minutes but said nothing of his errand. He too went up to Dumbledore's office. Watching the gargoyle close once more after he had passed through, Draco turned round and walked back down to the Entrance Hall. Standing on the steps out side the castle, he saw that the sun was shining and students everywhere were walking, playing, or lying in it. But he couldn't feel it. He turned back inside to wait for darkness, and news.