Evanesco

Evanesco

Chapter Five

In Which There Is More Evidence, and They Still Don't Know Where They Are

After two hours, the sun was rising over the tops of the trees. Light lay in dappled patches on the ground and a soft wind rustled the leaves.

Harry kicked a heel into the undergrowth. He was more angry than afraid now, angry - and bored.

"You'd think there'd be taunts to pass the time," he muttered to Neville as he peered through the gaps between the tents to the van, around which some of the Death Eaters had set up chess games or dealt cards among the leafy mast. Four of them were gathered around a map, arguing over the route they had taken so far and where they should go next.

Some of the men had removed their black robes, and sat in thin shirts, trousers and cloaks, their masks carelessly tossed aside.

"I can't wait to tell Tom his men are lounging around gambling," he continued. "I bet he thinks they stand up in their robes the whole time."

"I never really thought of Death Eaters being actual people," Neville said, looking over with interest as one of the younger men whooped and collected his winnings. "Apart from the ones we know, like Malfoy, and now Travis and Pettigrew..."

Of course Neville knew about Wormtail, Harry realised. It had all been in the Quibbler article Rita Skeeter had written last year, at the request of Hermione and - well, mostly Hermione, he recalled fondly. Now he thought about it, he couldn't even remember how he'd explained the presence of the supposedly-dead Pettigrew at the scene of Voldemort's rebirth, but right now he really couldn't care less.

"I guess I thought of them as nameless henchmen, like the Dementors," Neville continued. "Isn't that weird?"

"Not really," said Harry. "I was like that, before I learned most of their names. Some of these younger ones though..." he shook his head, "some of them might even have wives and kids who support the Light, or at least the Ministry..."

There was a snort from the tent directly in front of them. Harry glowered when he realised who had been eavesdropping. "Think something's funny, Malfoy?" he spat. The tent flap was pulled aside. Malfoy too, had removed his robes to reveal wizarding underclothes in the latest fashion. The sleeve of his black, button-less shirt came to halfway down his forearm, with silver embroidery spiralling in a 'running dog' pattern to his shoulders. The same pattern adorned his black leggings which were tucked into the tops of his soft shin-high boots.

Harry made a face. Do you own anything that isn't black?" he asked." And isn't it supposed to be impolite to wear that stuff in front of people?"

"I think I've got a Slytherin scarf somewhere," Malfoy said coolly. "And that sort of modesty is only for females or elders - not that you would know the difference," he added, looking Harry's torn jeans and T-shirt up and down with distaste.

"Eheh, very funny," said Harry. "You're just full of wise talk, aren't you?"

"Well it looks to me like I'm the only one in a position to be saying anything," sneered the other boy, tucking a lock of slightly unkempt blond hair behind his ear.

"Hard when you can't spend hours in the bathroom, isn't it, Malfoy?"

Malfoy glared daggers at Harry. "Hard when you can't move an inch, isn't it Potter?"

Harry, wisely perhaps, decided not to continue in this vein until they were both hoarse. "What's so funny about supporting the Ministry, then?" he growled.

Malfoy smirked. "Despite what you may think Potter, the 'Light' and the 'Ministry' are not the same thing. Not even related, to a point."

"What are you talking about?" Harry demanded.

"Only," said Malfoy calmly, "that your precious 'Ministry' is full of corrupt bastards who'd switch their loyalties to the Dark Lord at the tip of a hat."

"Or the wave of a wand," Harry shot back. "How many officials do you have under the Imperius curse, eh, Malfoy?"

"Believe what you like, Potter. But there's a reason the Imperius Curse is so rarely used."

"It's illegal?"

Malfoy's smirk widened into what could almost be called a grin. "There are other forms of corruption, Potter. Involving absolutely no magic at all. How do you think the Muggles do it?"

With money, Harry thought, but didn't say anything. He wouldn't give Malfoy the satisfaction of thinking Harry was coming around to his way of thinking. Instead he shook his head in disgust and rolled his eyes. "You never change, do you?"

"I hope not," said the young Death Eater, before stepping over Harry's legs and walking away.

~

"What's going on back there?" Travis demanded as soon as Draco stepped around the line of tents. "Were you talking to them? Did you tell them anything?"

'If you're questioning my loyalty, you can answer to my wand," Draco told him angrily.

Travis' face reddened. "Watch your tongue lad, lest you want it cursed off. "

Draco looked past Travis to where Pettigrew was standing guard outside the van. "Excuse me," he said to Travis, as politely as he could possibly manage, shouldering past the taller man.

"I want to speak to my father," he demanded of Wormtail.

Pettigrew raised his head with a slow deliberateness that sent a shiver down Draco's spine.

"Mr. Malfoy is busy," he informed Draco unnecessarily. "Come back later." If Draco had known what an answering machine was, he would have happily compared Wormtail to one - a rude one, at that.

'I -" Draco hesitated. Wormtail was powerful - very powerful. People who annoyed him either met a fateful end, or walked away with damaged limbs or vocal chords. Wormtail was getting back at every person who'd every intimidated him when he weak and helpless - expect the Dark Lord. No one threatened He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. "Please tell him I wish to speak with him," Draco muttered, and backed off.

Oliver Farwell was reading a book, sitting on his bedroll. He allowed no part of himself to touch the forest floor, and when Draco, careless, sat down amid the dry leaves beside him, the older man moved away from him too, as if he were as unclean as the dirt beneath them.

"Cold feet?" Farwell jibed. Draco glared at him. None of these imbeciles would have dared to insult him when his father had been in his right mind! Bitter with fury and confusion, Draco stormed back to his tent.

~

"Who spat in his Sunday Roast?" Harry asked, amused, as the flap of the tent was closed firmly behind Malfoy.

"How do you do that?" Neville asked.

"Do what?"

"Just... talk to him like that? Like you're only play fighting."

"Five years of practice, Nev, that's how."

"I wish I could do that," Neville said with a sigh.

"You didn't do too badly yourself, back there on the boat."

"Are you kidding? I've never been so terrified in my life!"

"And you think I'm not?"

There was a pause. "Well... you never seem scared. I mean, you've done all that stuff without even, you know, making a big deal out of it. The only time I've ever seen you even remotely afraid was... you know."

Harry did know. He'd had enough fear during that one day earlier in the year to share with the entire population of Hogwarts. "Yeah well, Neville. Despite what you may think, I have not gone through the last five years without any semblance of fear whatsoever." He didn't mention the years before that, at the Dursleys. From what he'd seen of Neville's home life, he was pretty sure they matched up in terms of awfulness there.

~

When the sun set, the group piled onto the truck again, Harry and Neville roughly shoved to the back. Again they drove for hours with only one break for the men to relieve themselves and grab some food for the journey. The two boys were, luckily, taken into the petrol station by Pettigrew and Travis and allowed free reign of the men's toilet with the two Death Eaters standing outside the door until they came out. There were no windows in the place big enough for either boy to climb out of, and Harry really didn't want either man coming in to 'assist' them, as threatened. When they came out and were each grabbed by the shoulder, Harry briefly considered yelling at the till clerk for help, but reasoned that not only could Travis and Pettigrew kill everyone in the shop, Pettigrew could also crush his collarbone with his silver hand as soon as Harry opened his mouth. "Good boys," said Travis as he tied them up again, making Harry want to spit in his face.

Toeing the line was starting to become a real chore by the time they stopped again for the day. This time they appeared to be in some kind of abandoned camping site - Harry spotted a sign that he could see the letters, but not understand what they meant. "Any idea where we are, yet?" he asked Neville once they'd been once more left alone, positioned facing each other in a nook between two trees.

"No clue," said Neville. "I may have been a couple of places but I'm hardly better travelled than you are."

They were cut off from any further conversation by the sight of Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange emerging from the driver's door. The two boys had seen them go in, but no word had been spoken and the only mention of her had been when Nott had muttered irritably about how 'that woman' had taken his place up front. Draco Malfoy had not lost his place, but stumbled out now from the passenger seat looking thoroughly disgusted. He said nothing to his father but grabbed his tent from Farwell and threw it into a corner, where it righted itself. Harry had noticed this the day before. While the tents were magical in that they assembled themselves, they didn't seem to have extensive insides like the ones he'd seen at the World Cup two years ago. Thinking about this, he sighed. I wonder what Ron and Hermione are doing now, he thought. Trying to find me, I bloody well hope.

~

Ron and Hermione looked up, Ron from a magazine he wasn't really reading, and Hermione from a new book she'd purchased herself with her 'good grades' money her parents had bestowed on her during the week she'd spent with them at the beginning of the holidays. It was Fred. "News," he said. "You'd better come down."

Ron almost flew off the bed. "Is it about Harry?" he asked hurriedly.

"Who else?" said Fred. "C'mon."

Remus Lupin was nursing a freshly made cup of tea when they got down to the kitchen. "What's happened?" Ron asked immediately. "Did they find Harry?"

"Not exactly," said Remus, sounding as though he hadn't slept in days. "Sit down, all of you." The other Weasleys were already seated at the table, barring Ginny who was spending a couple of weeks with a friend. "Professor Dumbledore went to the Ministry of Magic today to ask if there had been any disturbances concerning Harry. Harry's wand, that is. The ministry keeps track of the wands and homes of underage wizards and witches so that they can tell when they use magic outside of the school term. Now usually," Remus stopped to sip his tea and Ron suddenly felt the need to snatch the cup away from him. "Usually the Ministry sends a letter to someone using underage magic, as you well know. But Dumbledore and Fudge came to an agreement that this summer, letters of warning or expulsion would not be sent to Harry due to his, well, extraordinary circumstances."

"So was there anything?" Hermione asked. "Did Harry use magic?"

"I'm getting there, Hermione. When Professor Dumbledore was granted permission to look at the journals that record all spells done in the home or by the wand of underage wizards, he discovered that no spells had been done inside of Number four, but, Harry's wand was used at about the time we estimate him to have, well..."

"Run off?" Ron suggested nastily. Everyone ignored him.

"What spell was it, Remus?" Molly asked, her hands trembling.

Remus sighed. "The ossifrango curse."

Everyone in the room gasped. "The bone-breaking curse?" Hermione cried. "But -"

"Tonks had a broken arm," said George, in disbelief.

"No," said Ron, still steadfastly refusing to believe that such at thing was possible of his friend. "No way."

"We've heard from St. Mungo's as well," said Remus, looking grimmer than ever. "Poor Tonks doesn't remember anything about what happened. The examiners have concluded that who or whatever it was that injured her came up from behind. Even with a Pensieve, if she didn't see her attacker, there's no way we can determine whether or not it was Harry."

~

"Someone has to find us eventually," Harry assured Neville finally. "They'll have known I've been missing for days. What about your gran - will she have told anyone you're gone, or -"

"She's in hospital," said Neville, suddenly feeling very guilty. He hadn't thought about his gran since before the Death Eaters had kidnapped him. "I was living with my great uncle Algie... he could be dead for all I know." The thought made him feel a little sick.

"What happened, anyway?" Harry asked him, looking furious at himself for not asking the question before. Neville shrugged.

"I don't totally remember that well," he said. "I smelt something weird downstairs and when I got down there it was all blue and smoky. I think I passed out."

"The hall..." Harry muttered, almost to himself. "It was red. Not coloured red or anything... the air looked reddish. And I saw smoke down near the floor." Neville said nothing. Harry was obviously trying to work something out. He's built for this sort of thing, Neville realised. He was born to be kidnapped and do heroic deeds. What the hell am I doing here? Harry's the smart one.

"I don't get it!" Harry suddenly exclaimed, a little of last summer's rage showing in his face. "Why didn't they just storm the house, what's with this smoke and luring me out of the house, it's almost like they wanted it to look..." suddenly he froze. Neville waited. "Like an accident," he finished. "Neville - what if no one even realises what happened? There'll be no signs of a struggle at the house. If no one checks up on you..."

Neville gulped. If his uncle was dead, no one would even know he was gone until his gran yelled at someone loud enough to go find out what was keeping her grandson from visiting her. "Doesn't look good, does it?" he whispered.

"What are you muttering about now?" asked the dreaded voice of Draco Malfoy, as he came over to lean against a nearby tree.

"What's it to you?" Harry spat.

"Now now, Potter, no need to get excited, I was just asking," said Malfoy. "Conjuring up an escape plan already are we? Well, good luck with that."

"You know what, Malfoy? I'm sick of this banter. What do you and your deranged father want from us anyway?"

Harry honestly expected Malfoy to hit him. Or pull his wand on him. In normal circumstances any slight of Malfoy or his father would cause the young hothead to fly at the offender, but this time, the other boy merely frowned. "Got me," he said, and stalked off.

Harry looked at Neville. Neville looked at Harry. "That's it," said Neville. "It's not just Lestrange. They've all lost it."

~

It was about six in the evening when Bellatrix Lestrange, who'd been sitting quietly with her eyes closed for the last ten hours, looked up to the sky and announced. "It's coming."

Lucius ran to her. "How?" he demanded. "How will the message be sent to us?"

Lestrange put a finger to Malfoy's lips. "Hush," she said. "The master will show us in his own time."

"Oh, this ought to be good," Harry muttered. "A message from Voldemort. What could possibly be worse than Bellatrix showing up?"

"Don't jinx it," Neville whispered. "I can think of plenty."

"Right now I can only come up with a cou-" Harry grunted as something hit him in the head from behind.

"What? What is it?"

Harry strained to look behind him. There was only the tree. "That's weird," he said. "I felt - " Suddenly his scar erupted in more pain than he'd felt since Voldemort himself had touched it. His scream caused all the Death Eaters to stand up and draw their wands. Neville watched helplessly as Harry kicked at the ground, squirming against the ropes as though it was they that were paining him. His head shot back, colliding with the tree he was tied to... and he lay still.

"Harry?" Neville said softly, reaching out a foot to nudge Harry's knee. His face snapped back to face him, and Neville screamed.

This was not Harry. His eyes were a bright red and had scarcely any pupils, his mouth twisted into a terrible, malicious sneer. After staring at Neville for a derisory couple of seconds, the thing turned its eyes to Lucius Malfoy who was standing nearby, slack jawed and staring. "Untie me, you fool!" the thing said, in a high, cold voice.

--