Jewel

VII

The cold light of dawn streamed into the room as Hermione pulled a window open. It'd been three nights since their flight, and the fire in the Manor had finally gone out. They'd heard a thunderous rumble at dusk, the day before yesterday - Blaise had been silent ever since, only giving monosyllabic answers.

Harry'd deemed it safe to use a little magic, yesterday, and he'd disguised himself as a middle-aged Muggle woman and gone out to get some groceries while she'd carefully Healed Blaise's wounds - he'd took it stoically, not even blinking as she removed the infection from his arm.

She'd done the best she could - still, the wound hadn't closed, so she'd wrapped it up in another bandage, hoping her poultice would urge the skin to reform. She didn't want to think of what would happen if it didn't.

The males were both asleep - it had been her watch - and when she couldn't focus on her calculations any longer she'd gotten up to look at the manor again.

Most of the outer walls seemed still intact, but the dome of the library had disappeared. All those books, she thought angrily, all that history - gone.

Hearing someone stir behind her, she turned to see Blaise getting to his feet. He looked better than yesterday - on the other hand, it was hard not to.

Stepping aside, she made space for him to stand beside her. He stared in silence at the remains of his house for a while, then clenched his jaw and made his way back to the wall where he'd slept.

She shut the panel again and made her way to the other side of the room, sitting next to him.

Silence reigned for a while.

Then he spoke quietly. "My sister and me were born there. So were my cousins. My father, my grandfather, my grandfather's father... and now it's all gone, because I was too stupid to cover up all my tracks. They'll never forgive me."

"Who?" inquired Hermione, when he lapsed into silence again.

He looked up, almost startled. "My mother, of course. And my sister. They've been in hiding since I started to rebel against the Dark Lord - I think they're somewhere in Milan, pretending to be Muggles. My sister didn't like that, but I made them swear to... Anyway, I staged their deaths last year - arranged press releases, witnesses, a funeral and everything - so they should be safe."

He bit his lip. "I hope they're safe."

Hermione smiled sadly, thinking of her own parents. "I'm sure Voldemort is too busy securing the loyalty of his followers right now to chase after your dead family members."

"Yeah." He sighed. "I guess so."

"I should have another look at that arm of yours," she said, yawning.

"You should get some sleep," he observed.

She shook her head. "My watch isn't over yet."

"I'm awake, anyway - come on, you're much more useful when you're well-rested."

"I am very tired," she said hesitantly, as he carefully pressed her shoulders down, putting her head in his lap. She was already drifting away when she felt him spread a blanket over her.

"Close your eyes, pretty girl, close your eyes..."

~*~

With a half-yelp, half-shriek, she bolted upright.

"Good morning," said Blaise.

"Did you sleep well?" asked Harry, who was perched over a map, holding a steaming mug in his hands.

"Yes... no... I dreamed," she said, rubbing her eyes. "How long was I out?"

"Only three hours," said Blaise, "you should really lie down some more."

She shook her head. "I'm fine. How are you?"

He was still too pale, but he managed a passable smile. "I'm quite all right, honestly. We've been discussing our next move."

"Yeah," the other male said, "the last movement I saw near the Manor was over nineteen hours ago. There's probably still surveillance, but if we used the Apparition pentacle, it shouldn't be a problem to leave."

Hermione nodded and shifted a little closer to Blaise, gesturing for him to give her his arm. Silently, he obeyed.

"So, we're going to Hungary?" she said, carefully unwrapping the bandages.

Harry nodded. "I've used those calculations of yours to figure out where Ginny might be. There's a likely spot near the north border - that's mostly Fyula territory - and if we're careful, we should be able to land there undetected."

The wound looked better - at least it'd stopped oozing. Muttering some incantations under her breath, she finally got the blood to clot - when she considered the thin dark-brown crust strong enough, she spread some more salve on it and re-wrapped the bindings.

"It's looking good," she said softly to Blaise. "If you keep calm, I should be able to get some skin to form by nightfall."

He grimaced. "What, keeping calm in the middle of a flight? Not likely."

She glared at him. "Blaise."

He returned her glare blankly. "Hermione. Will it kill me if there's no skin for another few days?"

She sighed. "No, but it could get infected again."

Well, I'll live. We've got things to do."

A soft sound caught all three of them unawares.

"What is it?" Harry whispered, wand ready.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Sounds like a voice... it's coming from my pack," she got up and opened the zipper.

A soft voice emanated from inside. "Granger? Zabini? For Ciàran's sake, answer me. Come on. Granger?"

"That's Malfoy!" exclaimed Blaise, pulling the bag towards him and fishing the two-way mirror he'd given them out. He covered the emerald and hissed, "Malfoy! Are you all right?"

"Thank the nine. I'm fine - Voldemort has gone completely insane, suspecting everybody - but I'm fine. He's kept us in the sanctum, interrogating us one by one - I've only just returned. Thank Ciàran for Snape teaching me Occlumency. How are you? Are you all still alive?"

"Alive, and mostly healthy - Hermione's been patching me up. How're the others? How many are left?"

Draco growled. "We're down to six, and counting. Turns out that my paranoia about no-one knowing the full list but me was justified. They all name you leader, and know nothing else."

Blaise nodded gravely. "So what's going to be his next step?"

Draco's face turned, if possible, even more grim. "Avery talked when they found him out. Said something about Ulcridwe. He hung for it, but Voldemort got suspicious - he's sent out Greyback and his pack yesterday, and they've started returning. He knows most of the Horcruxes are gone. How many, and which ones, he hasn't figured out yet, but if we don't destroy the one in Hungary before nightfall, we'll never get to it."

"Hungary?" said Hermione, eyes wide.

"Yes - apparently, Voldemort took rather a liking to the Fyula clan in his early years, spent quite a while there. I've received a rather intriguing missive from Parkinson, who apparently found out the last one is hidden in the Heart Mansion."

"The Dark Lord's only just sent a diplomat there - I think he's quite convinced of its safety - but when he finds out all the others are gone, he'll probably go there himself. You have to get it before he does."

"But how do we get in?" asked Harry.

"I don't know! Figure it out! You know a Fyula vampire, don't you? Listen, I have to go - I don't have much time left - don't contact me, if anything happens, I'll try to contact you."

With that, the mirror went blank.

Harry swore. "We know a Fyula vampire? Bugger that! Ron's only just turned, there's no way he'll be able to get us in. He probably won't even be allowed in, himself!"

"There's no other way," Hermione said softly. "We've got to try."

~*~

Hermione uttered an oath under her breath when yet another twig broke underneath her feet. "Why must twigs always snap when I try to be sneaky? Ever since third year I..." Harry gestured, and her mouth snapped shut.

Blaise was waiting for them at a clearing. "Everything seems fine," he said, "no movement, not even a bird to be detected for miles around. We're deep in vampire territory."

Harry nodded. "I wonder when they're going to turn up."

"Probably around dusk," said Hermione. "We should make sure we're near the mansion before that time."

"Then we still have some way to go," said Blaise, and started moving again - even though he was obviously weakened, he was still quite fast. Within twenty seconds he'd crossed the clearing and strode amongst the trees again, vanishing in the shadows.

Harry nudged Hermione. "Come on."

Silently, they went after him. They'd used the pentacle to Apparate as close as they could, but wards had prevented them from getting close to the mansion - they'd landed a few miles away from it. It was not hard to find the right direction, though - the magic around the castle flared like a beacon for everyone who knew how to look.

Blaise had proven to be the best scout - following him, they'd been able to avoid undead patrols and wards without any trouble - slipping through the mazes in the net. The closer they got, however, the harder it'd be to get out again - the wards that prevented them from Apparating in, also prevented them from Apparating away. If things went wrong, they'd be rats in a trap.

Hermione clenched her jaw. "Let's just hope they don't," she said to herself, sidestepping another likely-looking twig.

They moved forward.

~*~

Still unexpectedly, the vampire materialized.

They'd just stopped to rest for a little while, the mansion now visible even without magic, preparing to slip through the inner wards. The vampire had apparently had no trouble slipping along their watch.

"Well, well, well," it said, licking its lips. "What have we here?"

Suppressing her terror, Hermione got to her feet. "We need to speak to a clanmember," she said, voice barely shaking.

A nasty smile appeared on the tall male's face. "I'm a clanmember," it said, "and you are trespassing. Or do you mean to tell me you have an invitation?"

Hermione opened her mouth, then faltered.

"That is what I thought. My my, what a feast it will be..." The vampire raised a hand -

"Micael. Lay off," said a female voice.

"Shut up, Sourceress," it growled, not turning around, "this is my watch. You have no authority here."

"I said lay off. They are invited."

It whirled around. "Oh really? By whom?"

"By the Seraphim. Or must I summon him?"

"I will have your neck if you lie," it threatened, snarling, but it stood aside to let her pass.

The female stepped forward in a rustle of black velvet. "I am Zoe," she said, fangs glittering as she pronounced the name. "You are Hermione Granger, you are Harry Potter. You, however," she said, narrowing her eyes at Blaise, "are not invited. You cannot pass."

Harry drew himself up. "We will not go further without him," he said, voice commanding.

"Your voice means nothing here. Leave him, or be devoured. It is your choice," she said simply, crossing her arms. "Choose wisely."

Hermione put her hand on Harry's arm. "Then summon the Seraphim," she said quietly, "and ask what he thinks."

Her eyes widened. "You mean to question Him?"

"I mean to ask him what he thinks of this matter. I suspect he did not expect this third guest coming along."

She stared at her, broodingly. "And you are sure you are ready to face his wrath, should you err?"

"We are sure," she said evenly.

The girl stepped back, shaking her head, and started chanting.

"Are we sure?" Harry whispered.

"I think so. I hope I'm right," she whispered back.

Shadows started whirling, forming a thick shroud. When they dissipated, revealing a tall, black-cloaked figure, Hermione smiled thinly.

"Hi, Ron."

~*~

Blaise stared at the red-haired figure, eyes wide. "Weasley is the Seraphim?"

Ron shrugged apologetically. "Hey, it wasn't my idea. I can't help it. Hello, guys. You all right?"

"Enough!" snarled Micael. "Is the third brat invited or no?"

Ron suddenly drew himself up, whirling around to face the opposing vampire. Shadows danced across his face. "You risk a lot, speaking to me like that. The third is invited. I advise you to leave this place while you can still walk, Guardian," he hissed in a low voice, "or I shall make you crawl."

The other male vampire narrowed his eyes, but drew his cloak around himself in defeat and vanished.

Harry cracked a grin. "You two must be wonderful friends."

Ron sniggered in return. "Seriously, if I had a knut for every time that one tries to harass me..."

Blaise cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, but am I the only one somewhat surprised by the fact that Weasley is the Seraphim?"

Hermione wrinkled her brow. "Well, I figured he must be something when she - " she gestured at Zoe - "said we were invited..."

Harry shrugged. "If you've seen what I've seen, mate, you're not so easily surprised anymore."

"... Plus, I don't actually know what a Seraphim is," he added as an afterthought.

Blaise looked somewhat relieved.

"The Seraphim is legend amongst Sourcerers," said Zoe gravely. "He is the one with two sires, who turned without help - "

"Without vampire help," muttered Ron,

" - , who overcame his first hunger - "

"Again, human help doesn't count," interrupted Ron, looking sheepishly at Blaise,

"- the one who wears the Cross of the Fallen on his back," said Zoe, glaring at Ron. "He will unite all clans, and lead the vampires back to the Light once more."

"Yeah, well, we'll see about that." Ron looked almost embarrassed. "Let's just get back to the mansion before someone else turns up to make a scene, shall we?"

Hermione barely succeeded in hiding her grin behind her hand. "Who's your second sire?"

Ron held up his hand - the burn mark still blackened his palm, but the signet ring gleamed. "Apparently, burning my hand almost off counts as having a second sire," he said wearily. "Again, I did not come up with this."

"Oh no," said Harry, not even bothering to conceal his grin, mock-bowing to Ron. "I can see you are the stuff of legends, noble one."

"Can it," said Ron, grinning back.

He turned around and strode off into the forest, a path forming itself before his feet, stretching away between the dark shades of the trees still separating them from the Fyula Heart Mansion. Harry bounded after him, grin spread even wider now. "But how could I, oh exalted leader? Your enlightened presence warms my heart, and..."

Their banter trailed off in the distance as Zoe turned to Hermione, horror and confusion clear on her face. "But the human is mocking him! How can he allow for such an impertinence?"

Hermione shrugged. "They're friends. That's all there is to it," she said, and took off after the Golden Duo, a bemused Blaise in her wake.

"Friends," Zoe repeated blankly, then shook herself out of her reverie and followed them.

~*~

"The Elders agreed to see you in an hour," said Ron tiredly, slumping back into the armchair. "Bone-headed buggers if ever I saw any, but at least they've agreed. Honestly, you've no idea how many idiots skip around this place, leaving merry disaster in their wake."

"You must feel right at home, then," said Blaise good-naturedly. "Where did you stash your sister, anyway, Weasley? The Ginny I know wouldn't have kept quiet for so long."

Ron's eyes narrowed. "She's off back to England to get some job details," he growled. "Apparently, she's gotten another contract."

"Did you know she told Pansy about the Horcrux here?" interjected Hermione, hastily changing the subject.

"I suggested she did, actually," said Ron, still scowling. "I figured that if Parkinson got the information to Malfoy, he'd be sure to get it to you. I can't quite figure out what you're doing here, though, Zabini. Don't you have a reputation to uphold?"

Blaise grimaced. "Not really, actually. Some of us have been found out - I've managed to escape, but they burned the Manor down." Hermione put a hand on his arm.

"Ah," said Ron. "That, I suppose, explains things. Er. Normally, when presented with such a situation, I'd offer you a drink, but in the circumstances..." He threw his arms out theatrically. "Best I can do now is get you cleaned up, and a change of clothes."

"That'd be great, Ron," said Hermione, who was sure she could smell herself.

"All right then," he said, straightening up and clapping his hands twice. A pale girl appeared, dressed in a nondescript black dress, ebony hair in a thick braid. "Escort these guests to some bathrooms," he said, "and arrange clean clothes for them. They are to see the Elders within the hour."

"Yes, Master," the girl said, bowing obediently, and gestured for them to follow her.

"See you in half an hour," said Ron glumly, sagging back into his chair once more.

Their steps rang off the flagstones as they followed the girl out the corridor, lit by torches which were positioned every few feet. Velvety draperies hung over the arching windows - they had been flung back, though, and some of the windows were ajar, allowing the chill of a November night to creep in.

The girl stopped, and pointed at a dark-wooden door. "You'll find bathrooms beyond there," she said, not quite meeting their eyes, "and I'll be returning with fresh clothes shortly."

Even though there were at least twelve separate bathrooms connected to the tiled room beyond, they took their baths in turns of two - one standing on the lookout. Hermione had just started washing the soap out of her hair when she heard her door creak.

She reached for her wand, startled, when she heard Blaise's muffled voice, "That serving girl just returned with your clothes - I'm putting them on the floor, here." She saw his hand carefully putting down a soft-looking parcel, and then it retreated again, pulling the door closed with it. A little rattled, she continued showering for another while, then turned off the tap and stepped out of the cabin, drying herself off with her wand.

The parcel did indeed contain clean clothes - but they were quite different from the style she normally wore. The dress was satin - surprisingly not black, but a very dark purple, with skirts flowing to her ankles and a neckline swooping rather lower than she was used to. She put it on anyway, figuring that she should at least try to look somewhat decent when she was meeting the Elders of an ancient vampire clan.

After doing up the ornate buckles of the boots that went with it - it seemed to take ages - she swept her hair up in an unruly knot, and exited the bathroom.

Harry was leaning against a wall, hair still damp but at least ridden from the grime of the last six days, whistling appreciatively when he saw her. "Like the dress, 'Mione."

"Thanks," she said, blushing, and added, "you don't look so bad yourself," rather hastily.

Harry, sporting black trousers and a deep navy oxford, swept a bow. "Why, thank you, milady."

"How long's Blaise been gone for?" she asked as she spelled two small pockets for the wands she carried into the folds of the dress.

"About ten minutes." Harry shrugged. "I doubt he'll be long."

She nodded, then leaned against the wall and sighed.

"What's up?" asked Harry. "You normally only use that expression after Ron and I have been off doing something incredibly silly without telling you about it."

She giggled, then sighed again. "I don't know. He's been rather - distant, after we left the Manor, and.. Well, I guess I just hope he'll be all right."

"I am all right, actually," said an amused voice coming from their right. "Apart from this nasty-looking cut on my arm, of course. Could you do me a favour and look at it again?"

Blaise stood in the doorway of his bathroom, wearing dark grey trousers and a soft white shirt. He had pulled up one sleeve of it, stretching his underarm out to Hermione.

Her hand flew to her mouth, but she crossed the room nevertheless, pulling a wand out of its new pocket. When she dared look up at his face, she saw his eyes were glittering with mirth. Blushing slightly, she muttered some healing charms, then almost squealed with joy when a thin layer of skin finally spread itself across the gap.

"It's going to be fine," she said, almost sagging with relief.

"Good work, 'Mione," said Harry, a tinge of pride in his voice.

"I suppose we should go and find Ron."

"I suppose we should," agreed Blaise, but as Harry went to open the door that lead back to the hall, he caught Hermione's arm. "You shouldn't worry about me, you know," he said quietly. "I doubt I deserve it."

"You're not the judge of that," retorted Hermione, "and anyway, it's too late. I started worrying about you as soon as you started worrying about me, back in Ulcridwe."

At that, he actually grinned. "Touché," he said, and stalked after Harry.

As she followed them, she wondered once again what that glimmer in his eyes meant.

~*~

She'd expected the Elders of the Fyula clan to look - well, old.

None of the three men and two women sitting behind the oaken table before them, however, looked a day over thirty. Still, they radiated an ancientness that was rather unsettling, and she had to focus on her hands to keep them from fidgeting.

She suddenly felt very small and insignificant in her pretty dress, and when she shot a look at the men standing next to her, the others seemed not much better - except for Harry, who was standing straight-backed with a half-smile on his face. Voldemort and his evil hasn't scared me in years, his stance seemed to say, so I doubt a couple of vampires can, no matter how old they are.

She smiled, suddenly feeling a lot better.

"Lord Gabriel," said Ron next to her, "I present to you..."

"Sit down, Seraphim," the man in the centre of the table said in an almost bored voice. "We know you don't feel comfortable with the status the Sourcerers have given you, and frankly, neither do I," - this comment caused the female to his right to shift almost imperceptibly - "but we are the Council, and protocol must be observed. It is hardly fitting for you to announce the presence of some humans."

Ron's mouth snapped shut. He balled his fists at his sides and clenched his jaw, but went and sat behind the table nevertheless, looking incredibly uncomfortable and out-of-place.

"Well?" lord Gabriel snapped after a silence.

Zoe stepped forward from the shadows near the door. "Honoured members of the Elder Council," she said, staring at a spot in the wall a little bit over lord Gabriel's head, "I present to you the humans Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. They have entered this Mansion under the protection of the invitation of the Seraphim, and stand now before you to ask for your help."

Lord Gabriel leaned back into his chair. "Thank you. You may go." Zoe inclined her head and stalked out of the door, clearly nettled that she'd been dismissed. She still closed the door respectfully, though, with a soft 'click'.

"I cannot say we welcome you," said a pale-haired man to lord Gabriel's left gruffly, "for I certainly do not. However, the house of Syl will abide by your invitation for as long as you choose to reside here, and will offer you protection if any would contest your invitation."

"You suggest anyone would contest their invitation?" the female on the right demanded.

"I say it as it is," stated the pale-haired man.

"Thank you, lord Dorrien of Syl," said Blaise quietly, earning a startled glance from Hermione, "we are honoured to receive such a large house's protection."

The man met Blaise's hard gaze squarely, but inclined his head very slightly.

"Enough with the niceties," growled lord Gabriel. "You've come here with a question. I demand you state it - we are losing precious time. Another guest is expected."

Hermione nodded. "We have come to ask you for a piece of the Dark Lord's soul, that you have in your safekeeping. As you know, he will be coming to retrieve it himself, very soon now, and his wrath will be great, for the shard that was residing in Ulcridwe is already lost to him."

"We ask for you to give us this item, or to unlock the door behind which this item lays, so that we can destroy it and the Dark Lord with it."

Lord Gabriel snarled. "Do you mean to insinuate, little girl, that Tom Riddle, or whatever fancy name he gives himself these days, is a threat to us? We, who have survived the French Revolution, Grindelwald, Morgause?"

"You may have survived the French Revolution," Hermione said very quietly, "but you can't be suggesting that you want another situation like that on your hands." She'd spotted the fleur-de-lis burnmark on the left female's neck.

Sure enough, the female raised her hand. "We do not, as you very well know, Gabriel. Tom Riddle is a petty enough opponent on his own, but his followers could bring about... changes. We could do with trying to avoid a rebellion," she said, addressing the table of vampires as well as the three humans standing before it, "and if this little human thinks to achieve that by us giving her that object, I can see my way clear to it."

The man on the far right harrumphed. "Really? You think it would be that easy? The Pits have worsened since your last visit there, Coraline. It would take no-one short of an Elder to go down and retrieve it. I doubt we have that much time, even if any of us were inclined to play fetch for a human, which I am not."

Lord Gabriel tapped his chin. "But the girl said they'd be satisfied if we unlocked the door. Didn't you, girl?"

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "I did not suggest we'd agree to run headfirst into some catacombs even you are disinclined to enter without help, if that's what you're asking," she said sharply. She'd had enough of the disdainful manner of the vampires. They'd all been humans themselves too, once, damn it!

To her surprise, the female at lord Gabriel's right hand started laughing softly. "She has spirit," she said, a smile in her ancient eyes. "I like her. The house Faren will assist them, if the council wills it, in entering the Pits."

She heard Ron breathe out in relief, and saw Gabriel's eyes narrow even further in distaste. "Very well. Do we all agree on granting these three humans entrance to the Pits, in order to destroy the shard of Tom Riddle's soul he has left there?"

"Yes," spoke the man Blaise had called lord Dorrien clearly, surprising Hermione. The lady with the fleur-the-lis mark on her neck also voiced her agreement.

The man on the far right only nodded curtly, but the woman next to him smiled as she, too, said "yes".

Lord Gabriel stood up. "Well then. The council hereby allows you to enter the Pits, for all the good it'll do you," and snarling, he swept past them, pushing the doors open.

The other Elders left in his wake - first the man on the far right, then lady Coraline with the other woman.

Lord Dorrien was the last to leave. He looked hard at Blaise. "You knew my name well, young man," he said, hands clasped behind his back. "Why?"

"Because your twin brother was the ancestor of my mother's line," said Blaise curtly.

Lord Dorrien nodded. "Then you may consider yourself invited to the house of Syl," he said harshly, and stalked off out of the room.

"Vampires in the family, then, Zabini?" Harry asked, punching him in the shoulder.

"Just the one, and he disappeared when he was Turned," said Blaise. "Apparently, didn't want his family scorned by the wizarding community."

Hermione smiled wanly. "Family trait, I guess."

Then Ron was next to them. "That went fantastic!" he exclaimed, gripping Harry's and Hermione's shoulders.

"What?" asked Hermione, startled. "They looked at us as if we weren't fit to be the dirt underneath their boots!"

"Yes, and from the Elders, that's a good thing," said Ron, grinning broadly. "The Pits aren't so bad, especially not since lady Andromache promised us her house's help. That's the Sourcerers' house," he pointed out helpfully, "and if we have some of those with us down there, we'll be through in a flash."

"Wait just one minute," said Hermione, "before we all jump over one another to congratulate ourselves - what is down there?"

Ron waved his hand dismissively. "Not so much trouble, really. Some Inferi, some vampires fallen out of grace - but it's really not that bad.."

"Why does this remind me of the time when you two insisted on raiding that Death Eater camp in Ireland before I'd finished my calculations, and when you turned up there was forty of them there instead of four?" said Hermione exasperatedly, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Well, that turned out all right, didn't it?" Harry said, with an infuriating smile.

"Only because I turned up to save your arses!"

"That was you?" Blaise said, incredulous.

Hermione almost stomped her foot in fury. "My point was, are we sure this is a good idea?"

After a few seconds of grave silence, Harry spoke. "No, of course it's not," he said quietly, "but it's a chance. In the circumstances, I think we're rather lucky to get even one."

Ron smiled thinly. "We'll be fine, mate. It's the last one of the Horcuxes, and we've got some help this time."

And even if we won't be fine, Hermione thought, we wouldn't be ourselves if we didn't try.

"Let's go, then," she said, smiling up at the three males around her.

They went.