Diamond In The Rough

Pain seared through his veins as the Cruciatus curse took hold of him. Liquid fire running in his bones, drawing pain from nerve endings he hadn’t known existed. Flames licked the darkness of his eyelids, as the ground seemed to swallow him up into a raging bonfire, burning the senses and scalding the mind.

Harry woke up with a start, sweating in fright. Wiping it away from his brow with clammy hands, he looked at the others as his heartbeat slowed. They all slept soundly. Taking a quick swig from his water bottle, he lay down again. He couldn’t help wishing it had been something a little stronger. He needed something to settle his nerves, to dim the mind temporarily. Sighing, he settled back to sleep again.

* * * * *

Harry had awoken early indeed. It was another six hours before the four of them were up and ready to set off, Hannah having to motivate them to move.

After opening the oak door with gold writing on it, they had found another corridor. It was like a corridor out of Hogwarts; stonewalled with portraits along them. Its familiarity put them at ease, and they walked down it in a quiet much less uneasy than those of the day before. Whilst the two wizards ignored each other, Lyca decided to put into words what had been left unspoken before.

"We owe our lives to you, you know."

Hannah looked up in surprise. "Pardon?"

"If it weren’t for you, we’d never have got past the dragon, let alone the sphinx. Though Draco may be arrogant beyond belief, Harry will thank you eventually, though probably not ‘til the end. He’s just worried."

Hannah’s cheeks burned a little. "I’ve never really received praise before. No one normally respects a Hufflepuff. They don’t respect our achievements."

Lyca squeezed her arm. "Well, this Hufflepuff deserves all the credit in the world. You put the rest of us to sha- Merlin’s beard!"

Lyca’s exclamation came as they walked into a massive hall. Harry himself didn’t know whether it was better described as a hall or a cathedral, such was its construction. Arches of stone were on the ceiling, riddled with intricate carvings. Lamps of red, blue, yellow and green hung from the ceiling, glittering tiles of the same colours covering the floor. The wall was covered in golden ornaments, which reflected the brilliant yet strange mix of light.

At the end of the room were four doors. Each was of a different style, bearing the same gold lettering as before and a hand print. Harry let his eyes fall over each one separately. The first bore a red handprint. A completely metal door, it had a formidable firmness about it. Next to it stood a large studded mahogany door, like one on an old castle. The small blue handprint sat just above the handle. The Hufflepuff one looked quite different. It appeared to Harry to be like a Muggle front door, complete with a frosted window and a brass knocker on varnished wood. Finally, an ebony door, looking as it was covered in ash and soot, was Draco’s destination.

All of them moved to their individual door, as if drawn by an invisible magnet. Harry looked over his with interest, and read the writing on his out loud.

"How far can you run from a danger you cant see

How long can you shelter in fortune’s fingers

Take my counsel if your life is deer to thee

Move quickly through the place where Death lingers."

He turned to Lyca and shrugged. "Any clues?"

She frowned. "Not that I can tell. Listen to mine. More riddles..."

"To face now a horror all do fear

But one who realises you never will find

‘There is nothing to lose’ people oft’ hear

But there is, and something you’ll mind."

Harry shook his head. "I can’t work it out. Hannah, what does yours say?"

Hannah glanced fleetingly at him before turning back to her door and reading from it:

"Picturesque is the thaw in early spring

When the risk of hurt is small

But beauty is a potent thing

One fatal step and you could fall"

Harry finally turned to Draco. "Well Malfoy?"

The Slytherin’s grey eyes flashed up and regarded Harry coolly. "Can’t mistake that for real interest Potter, but seeing as you asked...

From the other side you must view

Loyalties perish at the hands of foe

To your emotional kindred you must bid ‘Adieu!’

IF you wish this quest to pass ‘Go’

...there. Happy?"

Harry couldn’t help thinking Draco’s riddle unsuited to the wizard’s personality. One had to wonder if he had any emotional kindred. However, when he spoke, he did not comment. "Well, shall we go in? No point in delaying the inevitable."

They did not answer verbally, or even by a nod of the head. Words left unsaid, the four facing their individual doors, reading their riddle through for the last time. One by one, they passed through, eventually leaving the colourful hall behind, silent once more.

* * * * *

The moment the door slammed behind him, Harry realised what his riddle meant.

A cold wind blew harshly round him, making his clothes feel thinner than silk. Chilled to his bones and teeth chattering madly, he surveyed his surroundings.

Snow covered the ground and everything else. A blizzard raged round him, and added paper thin layers of snow to the drifts soaking his feet. The cold was almost unbearable. Even the cape, with the warming charms woven into every inch of its material, could not prevent his limbs going numb.

Realising he couldn’t stay where he was, he forced his muscles into movements and trudged up the nearest mound and looked out over the bleak, white landscape. This kind of weather held no beauty. Far off in the distance he could see a huge hill from which there came thin wisps of smoke curling up from its summit. Sighing, Harry pulled his cloak even tighter round him, and started towards the distant camp.

* * * * *

Lyca looked round in curiosity. It seemed to her to be a mediaeval village. It was the middle of the night. No stars twinkled above, the heavens shrouded in cloud. She started the walk slowly through the street, shoes clacking loudly on the stony cobbles beneath her feet. Her eyes ran in puzzlement over the houses. All the windows were barred, the doors metal studded with crosses nailed to the wood. Candlelight glimmered behind the windows, and she was sure she could hear voices muttering prayers in Latin inside.

She continued walking, brow furrowed in thought. Why was everyone inside? And so well protected to go with?

It didn’t make any sense.

* * * * *

Hannah smiled. In her opinion, her riddle was he easiest of the lot. All she had to do was watch where she put her feet. As long as she stayed alert, she’d reach the other side no problem. A spring entering into her step, she started off.

Her gaze turned to the trees above her. The riddle was right, they were beautiful. Ever green leaves next to the bare limbs of the deciduous were tangled together in unloosening knots. Gentle snow fell from the sky, dappling the ground and bark white. Birds chortled as awakening animals peered at the strange two legger walking through their home so early in the day. The sun had barely risen, and its thin rays shone brilliantly off the white blanket beneath her feet.

She didn’t notice the frozen pond, not with her head lifted skyward. Didn’t see the ice bend as she stepped on it, nor see the cracks running along its surface. She didn’t know ‘til the final moment, when the glass like covering gave way with a loud splash, and she fell down, the water smothering her scream.

* * * * *

So cold. So very very cold. Harry wanted nothing more than to sit down and curl up into a ball where he had paused for breath and never move again. Another blast of wind brought him back to his senses. He couldn’t stop. If he didn’t keep moving, he’d fall asleep.

And if he did that, would he ever wake up again?

There wasn’t much further to go. The top of the hill was only a short climb away. But it was up a sheer cliff face, which he hadn’t seen from his vantage point earlier. He looked up it again, green eyes nervous and watery from the cold wind blowing into them. Steeling himself, not for the first time during this quest, he put his foot a jutting out piece of rock and used it to help him reach for two handholds further up.

How his numb fingers managed to grip, he didn’t know, but somehow they did. More effort was needed to lift his leaden legs up to the next part on the cliff. Slowly, he progressed towards the top of the cliff. After what seemed a long time, his fingers went upwards not to another hold, but to the lip of the edge. He grabbed at it with a little too much enthusiasm. Misjudging his wild lunge, he overbalanced himself. His feet slipped on their stations, and he fell.

But before he could plummet to his death, a hand came from above and grabbed his wrist with strong fingers. With seemingly little effort on its part, Harry felt himself being pulled to the surface.

Lying face forward on the ground, it was a little time before his heartbeat slowed and his nerves calmed enough to let him get up without trembling. He looked at the person who had saved him. It was definitely female, this person, though he couldn’t tell this by their face. The figure’s head was hooded, concealing the visage of the person beneath it. They were clad all in grey, and seemed to Harry to be almost see through. A trick of the light he told himself, as he tried to gain control of his vocal chords. Eventually, he was able to speak.

"I-I can’t thank you enough. W-what-who are you?"

The figure replied in a voice that seemed strangely familiar. "It matters not who I am, or what I am. It matters only who and what you are, and what you come here for. Come, sit by the fire."

The figure drew the hood from its head. Harry gasped, almost fainting in shock.

"Hermione?"

* * * * *

Lyca hadn’t been walking for very long when the wind started up. As the first stars had appeared, she’d started to feel decidedly weak, her legs barely carrying her forwards. She didn’t understand. She’d never felt this bad before a change before...

She stopped. Realisation had hit her. She shook her head. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be that. Surely...

Her worst fear was confirmed as the clouds parted to reveal the full moon. She stumbled forwards; eyes starting to pinprick with tears that burnt raw into her head. Tripping over, she fell to her knees, limbs shaking in the early stages of the change. Her hands went immediately to her pockets, searching in vain hope for a vial of the potion that would help her keep her mind.

No....

She rummaged through them again, but still nothing appeared. Before she could try one last time, she could feel the wolf part of her taking over. She looked wildly at her hands as they changed from nimble fingers to powerful paws. She screamed.

The village mothers in the houses broke their prayers to pull their children closer to them, as a bloodcurdling howl broke through the silence.

* * * * *

Hannah felt the water rise up round her, flowing inside her mouth as she screamed silently. The heavy weights of her feet dragged her down as if she wore metal shackles not shoes. The water was freezing, sticking icy claws into her skin, pulling her further down.

With what remained of her sense, she realised she had to get her shoes off. She kicked them off eventually, banishing them to the bottom of the pond. She floated a little more now, though she needed air. Her brain was getting starved of oxygen. If she didn’t get some soon....

She reached up with her fingers tips and found the cold surface of the ice. Thrusting with her legs, she punched at it. Nothing happened. Feeling the breath starting to fall short in her lungs, she hurriedly searched for the hole she’d come through. Finding if she burst upwards.

She breathed deeply at the air, tasting each breath with warm relief. Slumping herself on the ice that still remained on top of the ice, she let herself calm down.

* * * * *

"Hermione? Well, whoever she is, you must trust her a lot."

Harry goggled at the woman, who gave him a wry smile. "You mean...you aren’t...."

She shook her head with a dry laugh. "No, I’m not whoever I take the form of now. I am a distant relative of the Boggart. But unlike my unpleasant cousin, I don’t take the appearance of something you fear, but the person whose judgement you most trust," she smiled, "And I’m slightly more intelligent than a Boggart as well."

Harry sat down on a log placed next to the fire, warming his hands in front of him. "So what are you? How can you live in a chamber like this?"

"Again, you miss what is important. It matters not what I am. If you must know, my name is Devrai. I am placed here to help to true seeker of the Forgotten Curse on his way. Which, to have got this far, you must be. Also, I must tell you of what’s to come."

She bowed her head in obvious fear. Harry placed a hand on her shoulder. "What can be ahead that is more fearful than what I must use this thing on?"

She looked up, the brown eyes she had assumed glittering in a way only Hermione’s ever could. "In the last challenge, the next, you face the hardest thing you have ever faced. He-He’s an evil force, darker than anything you have ever faced. He collects souls. He has been starved for so long of them....the Founders themselves lost one of their number, Helga, in just bringing him here. And when he has a soul, there is no way of getting it back. For he turns it into its other form. I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard the saying, but, well, in the olden days, it was often said ‘A soul is a jewel, un-cut and un-tamed.’ Well, it’s true. Once devouring everything he can from a soul, he turns in into a gemstone...."

She shuddered involuntarily. She took a deep breath, before walking over to a wooden stable. Harry, curiosity overcoming the sheltering warmth of the fire, followed her. Looking inside, he raised eyebrows in slight amazement.

Though Harry had met several creatures in Care Of Magical creatures. But he’d never met a flying horse. And this one was a particularly beautiful specimen. It was a deep blue roan, its skin dappled with grey spots. It had deep brown eyes that regarded him with calm interest whilst munching on the treat Devrai had given it. Once it was done, it flexed its impressive wingspan, a couple of the blue-grey feathers falling to the ground,

Whilst he was still looking at the creature, Devrai spoke. "Hurtig here will take you. I know you’ve ridden a Hippogriff before. This is hardly different, except he’s slightly more comfortable. He knows where to go. You won’t make it to the door without him."

Harry gave a grateful look. "You have no idea how thankful I am. I’m in your debt."

She grinned. "No repayment is better than knowing you can beat what you are going on to face next. And I know you can. No, be off with you."

Leading Hurtig out of the stable, Harry swung himself onto the horses back. Giving the woman a final glance, he kicked on.

* * * * *

It wasn’t for a while that Harry finally tumbled out of his door. He relished the wave of heat that washed over him, pumping blood back into his fingers and toes, which started to ebb and throb painfully. He leant against a wall as feeling flowed back over him, and his nerve endings started to protest angrily.

Sliding to the floor slowly, he lifted his eyelid to look about the room. He gave a start as he saw Draco sitting on the other side of the room. The other wizard was white, looking quite simply like he’d not only seen a ghost, but walked through it too. No colour touched his pale cheeks. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"You alright Malfoy?"

Draco looked up slowly, his grey eyes haunted. "Nothing that you’d understand Potter."

Before Harry could protest, a door beside him burst open, letting in a soaked and shivering Hannah. She stumbled to the centre of the room, where she collapsed on her hands and knees. Harry put his dry cloak round her to warm her, whilst listening to her recollection of her chamber. Thoughts of Draco left his mind. Just as he had Hannah calmed and sat down, the fourth door opened.

Everyone looked up as Lyca walked in. Her clothes were torn in several places, the cloak slashed in several places. There were cuts on her face and hands, and a gash on her head that had streaked her hair red in some places. Pink tearstains were the only colouring on her face, her eyes listless and gazing into space. She walked clumsily, almost falling over several times before Harry grasped her shoulders. At his touch, her eyes floated upwards slowly, her dry lips still slightly parted in what was either shock or a silent cry. She didn’t speak straight away, though she was obviously trying. Eventually, her vocal chords moved, her voice a quiet croak.

"I-I-I changed. In there....no potion....I c-c-couldn’t stop it," she sobbed, "I didn’t mean to Harry, honestly I didn’t! I didn’t mean for it to happen! I-I-I-I couldn’t stop it!"

Harry rubbed her shoulder gently, speaking in a soothing voice. "What happened Lyca? What happened when you changed?"

Sobs wracked through the young witch’s body, and it was another while before she could speak again. When she did, it was in barely a whisper. "I bit someone....a child.....oh Harry, what have I done!!!"

Harry hugged her. "It isn’t your fault....its only an illusion...."

She pushed away from him. "You don’t get it do you? I have just undergone torture! You don’t know what its like! To be looking in as if it isn’t your body, and you can only scream helplessly as it does something that makes you want to close your eyes and pretend you aren’t there. Only you cant. You have to watch, however sick, scared and insane you may feel. You lose all control. Everything..."

She shivered, and moved silently to a corner, and pulled her cloak up around her, letting only muffled sobs come out. Harry shook his head, but did not follow her. She obviously needed time to herself. Settling against the wall, he fell asleep.

* * * * *

"Draco?"

Draco looked up suspiciously at the voice calling him gently. Lyca’s eyes stared back, with concern hidden beneath the tears that still glittered there. He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Lyca sat up, ignoring the sounds of sleeping from the other two. "Are you ok? I mean, you never did say what your chamber was about."

He glared at her. "I don’t want to go into it. It was.....why am I telling you anyway," he straightened from his hunched position and scowled at her, "You can’t be trusted. I don’t want you anywhere near me. Tonight of all nights!"

She gulped, "W-what do you mean?"

He sneered with something that looked a little like triumph in his eyes. "I can count days. I do know that it’s the full moon tonight. If I could avoid it, I’d be in a different room. I certainly wont be sleeping around you tonight."

Lyca’s eyes flashed dangerously. Getting up, she walked purposefully over to where he was huddled, she pulled out the knife from her belt. As she knelt down beside him, Draco shrank away. When she offered him the hilt, he looked more than a bit taken aback.

"If you don’t know enough about werewolves to know that we cant change without moonlight, then you’d better hold this. It’s silver. I change, and you are welcome to stab me with this. I’ll die, of course. You have to be off age to perform the silver poisoning spell. Even if I were to change back again in time, I couldn’t do it. I’m only 20. And the only other people who know how to perform it are asleep."

She forced it roughly into his hand. "I’m only asking you to accept what I am Draco. That, and to trust me."

He looked up at her. "Why are you doing this?"

She gave him a meaningful look. "I’m doing this because, however hard it is, you aren’t going to feel any better about what went on in there unless you talk about it. So tell me, what was your torture?"

Draco shuddered, pulling his cloak around him for more comfort. "It was hell. Hell. Worse than death.."

"What happened?"

He didn’t meet her eyes. "They held me back.... there was nothing I could do....they just....right in front of me......worse than you can ever imagine...."

Lyca frowned at him. "Draco?"

He looked up at her, the usual coldness still there, but something underneath that showing through too, something killing him from the inside. "I...I....oh hell Lupin, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. As far as you’re concerned, I’m just some Slytherin scum with nothing inside. Just ice. Well I’m not. Things can hurt me too...."

He faded off, head hanging in what was a mixture of shame at letting out so much, and bitter hatred. Lyca viewed him silently for a moment, before shaking her head silently. She got up slowly.

"Draco, you cant let it rot you away. You have to bleed poison from the hurt, as if it were a wound. It is a wound, one inside."

Leaving the knife in his hand, she moved over to the wall and curled herself against it. She closed her eyes. What had he gone through in there that was hurting him so much, he couldn’t bear to talk about it? Sleep getting the better of her, the mental turmoil she’d gone through fading behind the lethargic mumblings of her mind, she fell into a deep slumber.