Montane Hope

Chapter 15 (of 16)

"Do you know where we are?" Neville asked, just as the silence started to become oppressive. Not that it was silence - the crashing of waves over rocks was ever-present and some-where ahead Hermione could hear a regular pinging noise, as if a drop of water were falling off the wall into a puddle below.

"I'm not sure," she replied. "I don't know what sort of magic made the trapdoor move. But I don't think it moved far - we're still in the same general area."

She expected Neville to ask why she thought that, but he didn't. She couldn't have answered logically, it was just an intuitive awareness. Like the impression that using the name Artemisia might be effective. This had been happening more and more recently, and she wasn't sure that she liked it.

The floor continued to slope down, which she took as a good sign, although she felt Neville tense as the noise of the crashing waves became closer. She was about to tell him that the cave they were trying to get to was under the sea when he stumbled heavily against the wall, threw a hand out for balance and yelped.

"G-give's a light," he stammered. Hermione was already gripping the wand again, concentrating hard on the simple spell. The scene she saw when she opened her eyes and let them adjust to the dim glow was not a pleasant one.

"Is he... it alright," Neville asked, carefully replacing the bony hand he had unintentionally grabbed when he tripped over the skeleton's legs.

"He won't mind," Hermione said, raising the glowing wand to look around. "It must be the same one... yes, there's the cross... follow me Neville, we're not far from the lower cave." She set off at a brisk walk, trying to remember the route from the time she and Harry had explored the tunnels months ago. A grasping fear settled on her as she recalled their adventures, and she determinedly shook it off. She really did not like the increased awareness studying Subneorancia had begun to induce, however useful it was.

"Aren't there Dementors down here?" Neville asked. She stopped for a moment, wishing she could speak of them as easily as he could. Wishing that they were still no more than an intellectual exercise.

"Not in this part of the caves, no," she said. "We sealed off this section. Once we get out, we may find some." If we get out, she thought, wondering how Ron and Harry were faring. If they succeeded in defeating Voldemort, they still could be lost, or destroyed by Dementors, or the lake monster or any other creatures that lived down here.

Harry wouldn't care though, she realised. Nothing would stop him going after Voldemort, even if he had to follow him to Azkaban.

The waves were running into tunnels over their head now, crashing with a muffled thunder in an unseen hole. The lowest part of the sloping floor was wet, and the walls glistened in places in a way Hermione hadn't remembered. Almost before she had time to wonder how much farther they had to go, the tunnel stopped abruptly in a solid surface that reflected the weak wandlight back in diffuse rays. The seal.

"How do we get through that?" Neville asked.

"Simple spell," said Hermione, placing her hand on the surface. It felt like solid rock, though she knew it was in fact thinner than paper and completely transparent. "Or a magically imbued knife." She looked ruefully at the wand fragment she held. It had been a powerful wand once. She knew before she attempted it that there was no way it could channel enough power to remove the seal.

"Wait," said Neville. "Is that a reflection?"

Hermione looked. "It's a light on the other side. They must have already seen us."

*

"Look, Ron!"

A faint light shimmered just beyond the first entrance, the one he and Hermione had sealed weeks ago.

"Wha-at! Don't make a noise Harry, it could be anything." Ron yelped as he backed in the direction of the stairs. He tripped over a patch of uneven ground and fell with a loud clatter. Harry helped him up.

"Come on Ron, it might be the others. That entrance is sealed because it's safe - only spiders in there."

"Only spiders!" Ron hugged the wall warily, eying the dense areas that indicated the other exits. The boggart roller-skated merrily around the cave - Harry was quite happy with a roller-skating Aragog while Ron wasn't too keen on dementors. Strange logic had ruled.

"Is that you Hermione?" There was no answer. "Stand back," Harry shouted again, "I'm going to unseal." The light flickered, but didn't move. "Lumos." He waved the light across the sealed archway. The other light flickered and vanished.

Harry watched the seal start to shimmer and peel. As soon as it was gone Hermione's voice called to them.

"Harry, that is you isn't it? Is Ron there? Come in here, quick."

*

As soon as the four of them were together and the entrance had been resealed, Hermione started crying, trying to hug Harry and Ron at once.

"We were so worried! I didn't know if we'd find you here. What happened to Voldemort? What's tha-at?"

Snape was looming over the group. Ron chuckled - he'd far rather see Snape than a roller-skating spider any day.

"Do your bird hat thing, Neville."

Snape sat down, most disgruntled. He was wearing a long lilac dress with a magenta handbag sporting parakeet beak clasps. His witches hat had tulips woven round the border, the heavy flower heads glistening in the faint light of Harry and Ron's wands.

"Voldemort - disapparated."

"What? Why?"

"I tried to kill him, that's why," Harry said heavily. "He gave Ron his wand back, said he would duel with both of us at the same time. The first spells collided in mid-air with enough noise to wake the dead. Then I...I..."

"He used Avada kedavra. So did Harry. The spell passed right through him."

"Through who?"

"Through Harry. It didn't work. And then the Boggart disappeared and the eeriest voice roared at Voldemort to shut up and Harry's spell hit the wall - he'd gone. Disapparated."

"Something came pounding out of the second entrance - you know, the one where the Dementors are. We couldn't see what it was. It swept right past us and into one of the other passages. About five minutes later the Boggart came back."

"I still don't see why we should put up with a live Boggart," Ron muttered. "We know how to get rid of them."

"So that's it. We couldn't get back, so we sat down and waited. I figured eventually some-one would open the trap door from above. Otherwise..." he laughed shortly, "we either starve to death or wait for Voldemort to come back and finish us off."

"With a wand that works, this time," said Ron.

"He's still got my wand?"

"Sorry Neville," said Harry. "He tried to kill me with it. Maybe your wand likes me."

"We need to get back," said Hermione. "You've got your wand, Harry, we should be able to get out somehow and signal Dumbledore." Her voice trailed away. She knew better than any of them that their spells protected the house from every angle except inside. The chance of them finding a way to open the trapdoor again was about one in a million.

"I'm not going," said Harry.

"What? Harry, are you crazy? We don't know where Voldemort is."

"He hasn't gone far. I'm going to find him."

"But Harry, he could have diaspparated anywhere. We need to make contact with Dumbledore."

"You go. I'm here to face up to Voldemort and I'm going to do it. I'm not leaving the job half-done. He's still in the caves, I can feel it."

"You're not going alone," said Ron.

"You're not coming with me. This is my job."

"Harry, you can't go alone, but we do need to try and contact Dumbledore."

"Look, it was my parents he killed. Because of him I've never had a Mum and a Dad, and it was my prophecy that started all this. Go and send your message. I'm going to find him."

Neville stood up. "Let's go."

"Neville, you're not coming. This is my job."

"If it wasn't for him, I'd have a Mum and Dad too. Let's go."

Harry and Neville set off at a run. Hermione and Ron followed. Boggart/Snape got up, stumbled over his six-inch stiletto heels, got up again and minced past them, his eyes on Neville.

*

"We're lost, aren't, we?"

"How long has it been?"

"Not quite two days. Dinner's ready, come and sit down."

"Hermione, that smells foul. What is it?"

"A couple of bats to share, and a handful of leeches each. If any-one is still hungry find me something else. Neville, send your pet boggart away, he's not to share."

"If I could think of anyone I'd rather not be trapped in a cave with..." said Harry, scowling at Boggart/Snape. "Neville, can't you force him into a bathing costume or something?"

"Don't Harry, I don't want to think it. I'm trying to make him less scary, not more so." Boggart/Snape was now wearing a frilly pink nightgown with matching elbow-length gloves.

"I still don't understand why the trapdoor moved," said Harry. "Did Voldemort do that?"

"Yes."

"You know? Why didn't you tell us before?"

"I thought you knew," said Hermione. "We all read the stuff I found out about the history of Muddleworth's property."

Her words were met with silence, not even broken by the sound of chewing. Neville had stopped with a bat's wing partway to his mouth.

"Didn't you?"

"Hermione, we didn't have time. Besides, you know everything."

"But Harry, someday I might not be..." She sighed, and Harry knew she was about to explain in simple words that he could understand. He had looked at the fifty pages or so she'd handed him, neatly bound with string, but had made practically no sense of it. Silently he started counting backwards from five - five seconds to gather her thoughts into a form coherent to sixteen and seventeen year old boys, that was what it normally took.

"Voldemort is a descendant of Salazar Everest. You already knew that. If he wanted to locate Slytherin Manor and move in, he would be entitled to do so. But not this house. He has blood rights to this house, but no birthright. The birthright was passed on to a baby that only lived a few days - and left no descendants."

"I don't understand," Harry said. "You just said that Voldemort had moved the trapdoor."

"He did. Not consciously. The house recognises its own, and responds to the presence of its master's blood - even diluted through several generations. If you went back upstairs, you would find other things have changed. But without the birthright, he cannot control any of the old magicks - they simply respond to him in a way that neither he nor any-one else can predict. And there are newer charms on the house - not the ones we placed there. Muddleworths lived here for five generations before Voldemort sent his Death Eaters after them. Just as well," she said, shuddering. Harry thought she must have just swallowed a particular bitter leech, but it was Ron who connected her action with what she had just said.

"What do you mean, 'just as well'. No-one deserves to go like that."

"Don't you know what they were? It was a corruption, an experiment gone wrong. Artemisia - it's not just a pretty name, it's bound up with the first powerful owner of the house, part and parcel of what he was."

"Artemisia vulgaris," said Neville.

"That's right. Mugwort. It was known as Muggle-wort in this area, and within the first generation of sentience they changed it again - to Muddleworth. No-one knew where they'd come from, with good reason. For who would notice an ugly plant growing by the wayside? Or imagine that any wizard, even Slytherin's heir, would consider modifying a plant with his own genetic material? Mugwort - the plant - was powerful, you know. In large quantities - and large quantities are easy to come by - it could nullify almost any sorcery Salazar Everest could perform. What he intended to achieve by breeding with it, I don't know. Unfortunately, the experiment was already nearing completion when Salazar died. He left behind his... playground, laboratory, whatever you call it. These tunnels exist untouched, but the house itself was lived in and modified but Muddleworths and Professor..."

"She lived here?" Harry broke in. "You mean that old story's true?"

"And lucky for us she did," said Hermione. "There's no other witch alive who could perform the sort of charms and countercharms she's placed on Muddleworth's old place. And if she hadn't agreed to take on the DADA vacancy, we'd probably never have learned about it."

"However do you find out all this stuff, Hermione?" Ron asked.

"Perseverance. And that's not the half of it. There's so much more... and it's just inches away, as though I should be able to understand it, but I can't yet."

"Hermione," said Harry suddenly. "All those charms and stuff - do they have any effect down here? Can Voldemort control the animals or anything?"

"I don't know. But I'd say so. If any-one could investigate and use these tunnels and their contents, he could. No Muddleworth ever came down here." She paused. "In fact, it's a jolly good thing you half-finished him off when you did, Harry. There's no doubt that using this place is what he had in mind when he had the Muddleworths killed, the year before you were born."

"Just a shame you didn't do the job properly first time round, eh Harry?" said Ron.

Harry forced a grin. He wondered how much of this Voldemort had known. Hermione had convinced the adults that the charms on the house were strong enough to prevent Voldemort from seriously harming them, even at his most murderous. But down here there was no protection - and who knows how many more half-hatched experiments or loyal Dark creatures were living or incubating in the tunnels? Before he had a chance to follow that train of thought, he saw the boggart turn its head.

"Hullo -what's Boggart doing?" Boggart/Snape transformed with a loud crack into something that would have terrified Harry if it had been looking at him. Hermione pushed Neville forward.

"Close your eyes and concentrate Neville, pink night gown!"

With another crack Snape returned. Harry listened to the patter of feet growing fainter.

"Just spiders probably. Boggart/basilisk was more than a match for them."

"Just spiders? Harry, those spiders eat people. Don't you remember what Aragog said?"

"Sorry Ron, but given the choice of Dementors or spiders, I know which I'd choose."

Hermione shuddered. "Don't Harry, just eat your meal." She fingered her empty wand pocket nervously. They were lucky to be alive. If it hadn't been for Neville's quick actions they would twice have disturbed the manticore during their search, And Harry and Ron had had to stop and rest for several hours after Dementors had swept down a side passage after the group. They had almost collapsed under the strain of holding them off until a huge black shape had bounced towards the small figures. The young Dementors scattered and ran. None of the boys understood what happened until Hermione explained about black holes - a nothingness that swallowed up anything it came in contact with.

The light meal over, they stood up, stretching their cramped legs. Boggart/Snape was sitting scowling at Neville, as close as he could get without being pushed away.

"He's not far away," said Harry. "I think we'll catch up with him soon."

Leading the way, he walked to the end of the passage and took a right turn. He heard a light pitter-patter of feet, and the soft tread of a large cat-like animal. The spiders and the manticore were close behind.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Night drew on. Draco was utterly bored. The adults generally ignored him. Hermione was lost without her wand. Something was happening down there and no-one was doing anything except watching and waiting.

If he hadn't been so worried he would have enjoyed looking at the stars when they came out. The room was quite light with a nearly full moon shining overhead. All night one or more of the adults stood and watched the house. A beam of light cut through the darkness, sweeping across the waves about once a minute. It was from the new lighthouse, out on a point the other side of the cliff.

Draco thought he hadn't had much sleep at all when he woke up in the morning. He was cosy under a blanket someone had laid over him. It was already bright daylight, although he knew the last time he'd opened his eyes the stars were still out and Dumbledore and Snape had been whispering together.

Moody and Tonks left after a light breakfast, and Dumbledore finally spoke directly to Draco.

"You took my challenge, as of course I knew you would," he said. "We owe it to you to explain a little more. No doubt what you have heard so far has greatly confused you. First of all, I want you to forget it. Forget everything you have heard."

Draco decided for sure that the man was loopy - until a glimmer of understanding began to appear. He locked all his thoughts away and screwed down the hatches. If this was going to be what he thought, it was most important that that understanding was locked away too. He looked Dumbledore in the eyes.

"Very good. Severus. Come and test him, this is your expertise."

Snape walked over and crouched on his haunches in front of Draco, sitting cross-legged on the floor. His gaze seemed almost lazy at first, but it felt uncomfortably as if a knife were being inserted into his brain and manipulated with surgical precision.

"Get up and walk around," Snape snapped. "Get out of the habit of doing this in a meditation pose. The Dark Lord won't wait for you to control your thoughts."

Draco did so, sauntering with an ease that belied the tension he felt.

"What is murtlap essence used for?" Snape asked.

"Er... all skin conditions. Boils, wounds." It was hard to find answers with Snape staring at him, knowing that he was supposed to keep his thoughts secure.

"What part of the hippocampus can be used for potions?" "Which potions?" "Where are your parents, Malfoy?" "Have you ever used an illegal curse?"

The questions followed thick and fast. Some of them Draco knew he was expected to answer coherently, others he realised were probing for information he should never give. Eventually Snape threw him a rather surly glance. "You're tired Draco. Sleep. And don't let your guard down."

Constant vigilance. It was an old quote of Moody's. He obediently returned to the blanket. It was now mid-morning, and he had no idea how he was going to keep his thoughts under control while he slept.

An hour later Snape touched his shoulder. "Wake up Draco." Draco sat up and yawned. When he met Snape's eyes the harshness had gone. Snape started speaking about school, holding a relaxed conversation about the people and things that pass through a House-master's office. His expression was relaxed, his face gentle - almost like Dumbledore, Draco thought. He wondered why he presented such a harsh expression normally - why if he just washed his hair he'd be quite good looking.

"Constant vigilance," a voice barked. It was Snape. "I won't even have the grace to blush at that, he snapped. The Dark Lord will not be giving you any second chances."

"Why Severus, whatever could make you think about blushing?" asked Professor McGonagall. Draco looked keenly at Snape. The thoughts he could detect were woolly and uncoordinated. Dumbledore coughed behind him.

"Mr Malfoy, Voldemort would not appreciate that. I'm going to take a few minutes to teach you what Snape is doing just now. It's not much harder than what you can do already, and it means that when Voldemort probes your mind he won't find it suspiciously blank. Most people spend their days with thoughts running amok all over the place - on any and every subject. It will not surprise Voldemort in the least if he finds a student whose thoughts dwell on food, girls and his appearance. You are going to appear to be much more mundane than you really are."

*

At twelve noon exactly Snape walked Draco along the beach, beyond the cliffs with the crashing waves. The sea wasn't exactly gentle here, but at least there was a space to walk below the cliffs.

"We know this cave is connected to the ones under the house. That's the entrance, over there. Use your wand to point you; you'll be heading southwest to get closer to the house. Remember, if you meet the Dark Lord - and I expect you will - do NOT under any circumstance try to probe his mind. Unless Potter and Granger have severely disillusioned him by now, he will not expect much of a seventeen year old wizard."

Then he was gone. Draco walked forward. He reached the entrance, looked inside then sat down and looked at the view. He thought of eating the sandwiches his mother had packed for him, but decided to explore a little first. At the back of the cave the rock narrowed into a tunnel. On the other side it was all blank wall. I can get through that. I wonder how far it goes. He took his day bag off and crawled underneath the overhanging ledge scuffing the knees of his new jeans. The passage widened slightly, but was not high enough to stand up. He crawled further. It was starting to get really dark. This is great. Maybe it goes right under the cliff. I might meet a dragon. "Lumos" he whispered. The faint light lit up the reddish, crumbling walls. He stepped round a puddle on the floor, then another. Occasionally waves crashed with a distant boom.

Perhaps we can come here next year too. There was a short stream running along the floor now, the water draining rapidly away into the sand. He was walking through it, leaving deep footprints. Further down, when the sand was dry again, he sat down to rest. He was tired, unbelievably tired.

Four hours later Draco knew he was lost. He had lost track of the time and forgotten any spells that might tell him. His jeans were damp from the pools he had waded through and his mouth uncomfortably gritty from the sandstone dust. Half of his mother's sandwiches he had eaten earlier. Why didn't I mark the path? I can't believe how stupid that was. He was thankful he hadn't met any dragons, but wondered what other creatures might live under here. Certainly leeches in all the damp spots. There had been classes on Hinkypunks, Red caps, Grindylows - he'd never really paid attention. One of his teachers had even taught him about a werewolf. He shuddered. Uneasily, he squatted against a wall. Perhaps he could eat the rest of the sandwiches. On the other hand, he might not get out till morning.

"Draco Malfoy!"

*

Draco started. The voice was high and cold, its owner stooping a little as he watched him.

"Y-yes. How did you know?" Voldemort approached as Draco lowered his wand, the light now illuminating a patch on the floor. "I've seen you before!" the boy exclaimed. "You were in Hogsmeade last week."

"I was indeed." The man smiled, a cold smile that did not reach his eyes. "Do you know who I am?"

Draco shook his head.

"I thought as much," muttered the man. "Probably modified his memory when he got back." He waved his wand so that a thin stream of light issued from it. The letters formed a phrase 'I am Lord Voldemort.'

"You're You-know-who?" asked Draco. "Why, then you're the person I'm looking for."

"Looking for me were you? That was a foolish thing to do; you've got yourself badly lost."

"Oh no, I'm not lost. I'm with you now."

"If I say you're lost, you are lost. No man is so lost than he that is in the wrong company. What would your parents say if they knew you were here?"

Draco looked at the floor.

"They wouldn't like it, eh? I should think they wouldn't"

"They don't care," said Draco, angrily. "Why should they care? They can sod off."

The man looked at him curiously. "Hold up the light boy. I want to look at your face." He surveyed him curiously for a moment. "What did you suppose you were going to do when you found me?"

"Help you," said Draco immediately.

"Help me?"

"Yes. You're on the run, aren't you? I thought - well, I'm pretty good at school and all that. I thought if I help you beat Dumbledore's spells..."

"Tell the truth boy."

Draco looked at the floor again. Finally he blurted out, "My father hates me. I don't want to stay... I can't stay with them a moment longer. And Mother is messing with other men and thinking I don't notice. They picked me up from school when he got out of prison, but it's been awful. You'll let me stay with you, won't you? I want to learn all the spells."

"So that you can go back and kill them - like I did my own father?"

"I didn't think of that."

"I know your parents, Draco Malfoy. They thought to run away from me. So they brought you down here and you ran right into my arms. That is amusing. Most amusing."

Draco wasn't sure that he understood what was amusing about it. He was hungry.

"I've got food," the man said. "Come with me. You are tired, and I have work to do."

"Work?" asked Draco, but he was almost asleep on his feet as he followed Voldemort.

*

Late that night Draco woke up. As his eyes adjusted he could just make out the curve of Voldemort's shoulder and head, lying on a blanket in the middle of the cave. The man was sleeping soundlessly. Draco was certain that he had not made the noise that woke him.

He still felt exhausted. Voldemort had questioned him while they ate. Most of all he wanted to know about Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. His eyes gleamed when Draco mentioned Neville Longbottom as a friend of Harry's.

"You don't like them, do you?"

"No. Potter's so full of himself, strutting about breaking all the rules. He gets away with anything - just because he's famous."

"You like Hermione Granger though"

Draco shook his head. "She's just as bad. Even Professor Snape calls her an insufferable know-it-all."

"You're lying to yourself Draco." Draco was silent. It was true that that cat was marching up and down behind his eyes again. Proctor inevitably reminded him of Crookshanks, so that if he visualised Proctor, Hermione Granger was sure to arrive on scene shortly after. Six months practise had not made him any more able to shut her out of his thoughts.

Where do you think she is now?"

"At school, I s'pose. It won't officially be the holidays yet. I haven't seen much of her for a few days."

"Some-one's modified your memory for you, young Malfoy. I know where she was on Saturday afternoon. She certainly wasn't at school."

Draco found the probing questions about his parents, and schoolfriends - or enemies - quite disconcerting. As soon as possible he asked about Voldemort's goals. He'd always been curious. Some of the stories he had heard as a child were quite confusing, with no obvious reason behind them. Voldemort seemed more than willing to talk, humouring him as one would a playful puppy.

"Why don't you try for Minister of Magic, my Lord. Surely you would have more influence that way? There's plenty of wizards who would support you."

Voldemort had returned a rather disdainful stare. "Would Salazar Slytherin have been content as Minister of Magic? I am Slytherin's heir, the last of my line. If wizards want a figurehead, they're welcome to Fudge. I am the most powerful wizard born this century, consequently my ambitions are rather higher than merely Minister of Magic." He snapped his fingers.

"As long as Mudbloods and Muggles are admitted to Hogwarts, wizardry will never attain the heights of which it is capable. Even squibs wander the halls of that once revered school. No Malfoy, the ministry is important, but it is not the end. The school is important, but it is not the endmost goal. Nevertheless, with control of the school, the Ministry and therefore the media, then work starts to be done. But not with me as figure-head, oh no."

"Why not, my Lord?"

"No wise man seeks glory. I follow Professor Moriarty's noble example. The man with the power is as the spider at the centre of the web, controlling every thread of communication and encompassing the structure of society, so insidiously that the common wizard believes he makes his own choices. That, Draco Malfoy, is power. A young man like you can be most useful. Not as Headmaster of Hogwarts, nor as Minister of Magic - you're too young to be convincing. I believe I may have suggested something about Hogwarts to your dear aunt. She is most loyal, she will do a good job there. As you too, will be a good servant."

Voldemort looked keenly at Draco. If Bellatrix Lestrange is headmistress, I could help run the school. She wouldn't put up with Muggles. He nodded his head.

"Perhaps. Wizardry and Witchcraft have a great future - if bunglers like Dumbledore and Harry Potter are got out of the way. A central vision will restore order to the nation, and eventually, international practices."

Deep in the back of his mind, where Voldemort couldn't reach it, Draco's thoughts were not quite in agreement with what he heard - yet he left these questions unsaid, feeling that his Lord would not wish to answer them. None of the people I know who are Death Eaters have such noble goals. Even Aunt Bella, they just enjoy power or dislike muggles. Did he not explain this to them?

Late in the evening Voldemort had thrown him a blanket and told him to sleep.

He heard the noise again - a faint scrape. He sat up, feeling for his wand. Voldemort had told him about the dark creatures that abounded in these caves. Some-one whispered, and he froze. It must be them. Voldemort had told him that there were other students in the caves.

"My Lord." Voldemort sprang up as soon as he called, his eyes gleaming in the dark.

"Don't move until I tell you Draco. I've waited a long time for this."

* * * * * * * * * * * *