Somnio Salvus

Harry sat motionless on the floor, dazed and bewildered as chaos erupted all around him. People flocked from all directions, shouting and gesturing to each other. A curious crowd gathered to stare and gossip.

Harry slowly began to focus on his surroundings. Gradually he realised that there were familiar faces among the wizards surrounding him. He could see Kingsley Shacklebolt standing guard at the door, barking instructions at Tonks. Mad-Eye Moody was prowling among the crowd of onlookers, his magical eye searching the area thoroughly.

Someone walked up to him and stood by his side. He looked up into the concerned face of Remus Lupin.

'Are you alright?' Lupin asked gently, helping Harry to his feet.

Harry nodded, still speechless.

'Let's get you inside, before the Daily Prophet photographers arrive.'

Harry nodded mutely. He stared around for some clue as to what had happened. His eyes fell on what was left of his ice cream, slowly melting on a paving stone near the spot where Draco had stood, wrestling with Madam Rosmerta.

Draco...where...?

Harry didn't have time to wonder what had become of Draco because at that moment Lupin took him firmly by the elbow and marched him away from the curious onlookers. Someone who looked horribly like Rita Skeeter was trying to duck under the warning tape (Keep Clear - Magic of Unknown Origin) which the Aurors had placed around the scene.

As they passed, a Ministry Witch scooped up the remains of Harry's ice cream and placed it in a glass jar. She sealed it with a tamper-proof spell, and stuck a label on it which read 'Evidence'.

Lupin steered Harry towards the door of the pub. Snippets of conversation drifted into earshot as they passed a baffled group of Ministry investigators.

'...But she never showed any symptoms of Imperius. She must have been one of them all along...'

'Rosmerta? Never! Her husband was killed by Voldemort - she wouldn't...'

Harry began to piece together what had just happened. He frowned as he remembered the peculiar way that Rosmerta's features had transformed for a moment. That had reminded him of something; what was it? ...

He froze with shock as it hit him. The eyes...those awful, hooded eyes. His head filled with images and memories, swarming together to form a complete, terrible picture. Names...golden names on a faded tapestry...He stared in horror at Tonks, who was interviewing witnesses. Another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. A tall, pale woman, shrieking with triumph over the death of his godfather...

'Lestrange...' he murmured weakly.

'What did you say?' asked Lupin, turning to him in surprise.

'It was Bellatrix Lestrange...'

***

Draco's feet hit the ground abruptly, as the feeling of being dragged through the air by his midriff subsided. Disorientated, he lost his balance and toppled sideways along with his companion. They landed in an awkward heap, swearing and struggling to get up.

Eventually Draco managed to roll free of the tangle of robes, and looked up into the furious glare of Madam Rosmerta. She didn't seem pleased to see him.

'You!' she exclaimed, eyes narrowing with fury. 'You fool! What the hell did you do that for?'

Draco was still too amazed at his friendly neighbourhood landlady turning out to be in league with Voldemort to give much of a response. He stood up and straightened his robes, glancing around at his surroundings. They stood in a large and lavishly decorated room. Draco had time to take in the expensive looking furniture, the exotic plants in gilded containers and the huge, glittering chandeliers before Rosmerta drew her wand and pointed it at him. Her expression suggested that she was not preparing to conjure up tea and cakes for two.

'You'd better answer me, Draco. I don't think you realise just how much trouble we are in.'

Draco stared at her in surprise. She had always been pleasant to Hogwarts students, but he hadn't realised that she knew his first name. He tried to think of a believable excuse for interfering in the abduction, but it wasn't easy to do with an angry witch pointing a wand at his head. He decided to keep his mouth shut.

Rosmerta was nervous. Her hand shook slightly as she held her wand, and she kept glancing over her shoulder at the ornately carved double doors. As she turned back to face him, she caught sight of herself in a large mirror with a frame made of golden cherubs. 'Ugh!' she said, scowling. Then she grimaced with effort, screwing her eyes shut. Draco watched in amazement as she grew about a foot in height. Her curly blonde hair turned black and poker straight, and her round, rosy face became thin and pale with dark, deep-set eyes.

Draco knew her at once. He hadn't met her - at least, not since he was very small - but Malfoy Manor contained a number of portraits of her. Not to mention Mother's photo albums...

'Hello, Aunt Bella,' he said, as cheerfully as he could.

***

Lupin took Harry firmly by the arm and led him quickly into the pub. He gestured to him to sit down at a table away from the window, while he made his way to the empty bar and poured a large measure of Firewhisky. He placed it in front of Harry and sat down opposite him, frowning anxiously.

'What just happened, Harry?' he asked suddenly.

Harry looked at him in surprise. He had been planning to ask that question himself, and was somewhat alarmed that Lupin didn't know the answer.

'I, umm... I'm not sure. Madam Rosmerta offered me a drink, but she wasn't really Rosmerta. And the drink was...'

'A Portkey, yes,' said Moody, who had just made his way to their table with his usual ungainly stride. 'All the witnesses say the same thing. Rosmerta was attacked by an unknown third party. They were both gripping the bottle at exactly two o'clock, when they disappeared. There's no doubt, the Portkey was set for two o'clock, and it was intended for you.'

Harry was more than a little bit shocked to find that this information was news to Lupin. He'd assumed that the Order had known about the attack and were all set to prevent it. How had they expected to do that, if they didn't know how it was going to be carried out?

Lupin seemed to read his mind.

'Harry...as you have no doubt worked out for yourself, Dumbledore placed us here today because he received intelligence of an intended attack,' he said. 'But it didn't go the way we had expected. As a result, our mission to protect you very nearly failed...' he tailed off, shaking his head.

Harry took a sip of his drink and coughed as the volatile liquor burned a path down his throat.

Regaining his voice, he tentatively began to speak. 'What did Dumbledore think was going to happen?' he asked.

Lupin sighed. 'We were expecting Peter. The report we received from...our sources...indicated that he was going to apparate into the pub when it was at its busiest, seize you and disapparate, taking you with him.

'Of course, we knew it couldn't be as simple as that. We fully expected him to be in disguise, possibly with Polyjuice, so we were prepared to apprehend anyone who apparated in here as soon as they appeared. Even if it seemed to be Cornelius Fudge himself.'

'Harry, what makes you think that Madam Rosmerta was really Bellatrix Lestrange?' Moody asked gruffly.

Harry tried to keep the disturbing image of Rosmerta's mutating features out of his head as he explained. 'I saw her eyes...just for a moment. Her face changed, and then changed back. I've seen that happen before. I've seen it...when Tonks does that thing with her nose.'

Harry stopped talking and stared into his whisky.

Nobody spoke. Harry looked back and forth between Lupin and Moody, waiting for a reaction. None came.

'Tonks told me that she was born a Metamorphmagus,' he explained. 'So it could run in her family...and Bellatrix Lestrange is...'

'Her aunt. Yes, of course, you're quite right,' said Lupin wearily. 'I must confess, the possibility never occurred to any of us. Natural Metamorphmagi are rare, and they tend to be identified early on. It's almost unheard of for one to reach adulthood without anyone finding out they have the ability.'

At that moment, Tonks burst in, knocking a few pint glasses flying as she collided with a table in her haste.

'Harry! Crikey, you were lucky out there. When I think about what could have happened...' She shivered and grimaced, then flung herself onto a chair next to Moody.

'So what do we think?' she asked keenly. 'The bottle was a Portkey, someone Polyjuiced into Rosmerta to get Harry to take it? Pettigrew, maybe?'

Harry, Lupin and Moody looked at each other awkwardly.

'What?' said Tonks. 'Have you worked something out? Tell me!'

Lupin looked at her warily, then said, 'It's just possible that Bellatrix Lestrange impersonated Rosmerta. But we don't think she used Polyjuice.'

Tonks gave an exclamation of distaste at the mention of Bellatrix. Then she glanced at each of them quizzically. 'What, then? How did she do it?'

Lupin was visibly uncomfortable. 'Well, she may be a Metamorphmagus.'

Tonks was silent for a moment. Then she abruptly leapt to her feet, swearing loudly. She paced back and forth a few times, muttering 'How could we not have thought of that?' She smacked a hand to her head, then ran her fingers through her spiky blue hair. 'What's the point of being the elite of the elite if we are so...bloody...stupid?' She punctuated her speech by kicking a table leg on each word.

She took a few deep breaths, then turned to Harry. 'Did you see her? Did you actually see her face?'

Harry nodded.

'She can't have been concentrating properly if her own face reappeared when she was agitated,' added Tonks thoughtfully. 'Maybe she hasn't always known how to do it. Maybe she only discovered what she was while she was in Azkaban. If so, it's hardly surprising that nobody knew.'

'All this guesswork is getting us nowhere,' said Moody. 'What we need to know is why the abduction failed. Who was it that fought off Lestrange?'

Harry's insides clenched with panic. Oh, no... Draco! He struggled to gain control of his voice as his companions discussed the possible identity of the mysterious figure in black.

'I know who it was,' he whispered. Everyone stopped talking and looked at him expectantly. 'It was Draco Malfoy.' Harry ignored the disbelieving snort from Moody and continued. 'He tried to warn me, but I didn't believe him. I mean, I did...but I was angry with him. I didn't pay attention. It's my fault.' He looked up and gazed at the members of the Order, painful guilt and worry rising in his chest. 'He's in danger - we have to find him.'

Doubtful faces looked back at him. Moody began to explain that Portkeys were impossible to trace, but Harry leapt to his feet. 'If you won't help me, I'll do it myself,' he cried. 'There has to be a way!'

Even as he spoke, Harry knew that the odds were not good. He didn't know how to even begin looking for Draco. An awful image sprang into his head - a graveyard, swarming with Death Eaters. But this time it was Draco who was tied to a gravestone, being tortured by Voldemort.

Tears of anger and fear threatened to overflow, and he sat down again, his face in his hands. 'Draco! Oh, no...It's my fault...'

Tonks, Lupin and Moody looked at each other uneasily. Then Lupin glanced at the fireplace, took a handful of Floo Powder from a bag which Moody offered him, then once again took Harry firmly by the elbow.

'Let's get you back to the Castle. I think you'd better have a word with Dumbledore,' he said.

***

Bellatrix Lestrange rounded on Draco. 'Don't think that just because you are the son of my sister I will be lenient with you,' she hissed. 'You have caused an important mission to fail, and the Dark Lord does not tolerate failure. If you refuse to explain to me what you meant by seizing that Portkey, then you will answer to him.'

Draco had no intention of answering to anybody. He met his aunt's glare with a cool gaze, and stuck his chin out defiantly. She lowered her wand and crossed her arms, waiting to see what he would do. He made a show of looking casually around the room, and tried to appear as unimpressed as possible. Bellatrix watched with faint amusement as he ambled over to the massive mahogany doors and tried the handle. Locked...what a surprise. He drew his wand (Bellatrix made no effort to disarm him) and tried Alohomora. When it didn't work he tried Surripero, and then - out of desperation - Explosius. The doors remained stubbornly intact.

'I wouldn't bother if I were you,' said Bellatrix. 'There are all kinds of security wards in place.'

Draco turned abruptly and aimed a Stupefying charm at her. It fizzled out before it reached her, leaving only a few silvery sparks and wisps of white smoke. He looked at his wand in bewilderment.

Bellatrix gave a short, nasty laugh. 'The Dark Lord takes good care of his loyal supporters, dear nephew. When he casts a shield charm, it takes more than a child's pathetic excuse for a spell to penetrate it.'

Draco didn't reply. Instead he strode across the room to a pair of French windows, which opened onto a balcony. He stepped out and looked around.

I've been here before...he realised, taking in the rugged, rocky hills and deep valleys. There were no other buildings in sight, and the landscape bore an eerie, bleak kind of beauty. It was a view he had seen many times as a child.

He turned and examined what he could see of the building. It was big. Looking to his right he could see many more balconies with French windows. The architecture was wildly over-the-top. Everywhere he looked there were flying buttresses, Corinthian columns and gargoyles. Yes, definitely the style of architecture favoured by wizards everywhere, he thought. Without a doubt, Bellatrix's Portkey had delivered him to a wizards' hotel in the Peak District, where he had spent several holidays with his mother when he was little.

He leaned over the ornate balustrade that surrounded the balcony. He could see the roof of the grand entrance hall far below. The row of international flags fluttering at its edge (including the flag of the International Confederation of Wizards) quelled any doubts he might have harboured.

He felt a hint of hope - knowing where he was had to be a good start. But the feeling quickly faded as he remembered that the hotel closed during the Autumn and Winter months - there simply wasn't enough business to keep it open all year round. There would be nobody to hear shouts for help, and nobody to observe lights in rooms that were supposed to be empty. If Voldemort was using the Penthouse Suite as a hideout, it was fairly safe to assume that any security staff or caretakers would have been disposed of.

He slumped back against the wall with a sigh. It was a very long way down; there would be no escaping this way.

He thanked the departed soul of Merlin that Harry was safe, and wished that he'd forcibly restrained him from going to Hogsmeade. Then he wished that he'd had the courage to own up about the Somnio Salvus potion sooner, so that Harry might not have been quite so angry.

While I'm at it, why don't I just wish for a broomstick...?

He gripped his wand, useless though it was against Bellatrix, and ventured back inside to face whatever was in store for him.