Claire De Lune

Claire De Lune

Chapter One: The Amulet

She stood before the window, parting the curtains slightly to reveal a torrent of rain. The angry gray clouds swirling in the sky mirrored the bitter emotion welling in her chocolate eyes. Upon seeing the empty front yard, she sighed heavily and brought her hand down to her side, allowing the curtains to fall gracefully back to their original position. Stemming the tears in her eyes, she rested her forehead upon the windowpane, vainly wishing that this horrible nightmare would cease.

It had been three days. Three long days and she had seen neither hide nor hair of him. She had promised to stay behind, out of pure loyalty and love for him, but she now doubted her decision. If he was hurt, captured, or worse, she would never forgive herself.

Lightning streaked across the sky, followed by a loud rumbling of thunder in the distance. The old grandfather clock in the corner struck one, emitting clouds of dust as it shook. As Hermione Granger raised her head to gaze at it, her mouth twisted into a cynical smile.

Make that four days.

"Go to sleep, Hermione."

Startled by the deep, manly voice behind her, the seventeen-year-old whirled around to find her former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher standing there, a concerned look on his lined face.

"Go to sleep," he repeated. "It's not healthy for you to keep doing this."

She chose not to respond; instead, she released a heavy sigh and trudged towards the sofa, which had become her makeshift bed for the time being. Stepping quietly over a snoring Ron Weasley, who was sleeping on the floor beside her bed, she sank into the soft cushions in resignation.

"When is he coming back, Professor?" she finally asked, after a moment's silence.

"No one knows, Hermione," smiled Remus Lupin simply as he ran his hand through his graying hair. "All we can do is hope--and pray."

Hermione gazed at him, waiting for him to continue, but he said no more. Giving a small nod in understanding, she pulled a plush throw pillow towards her and hugged it tightly. Millions of thoughts crossed her mind as her eyes fixated on the dancing flames in the fireplace.

It had been a month since Albus Dumbledore's death; two weeks since she, Ron, and Harry Potter had joined the Order of the Phoenix; and five days since she and Ron had been assigned with Lupin. Every other night, they had to go to a designated area to search for clues or any signs of Death Eater activity. Tonight had been one of those nights, and though overwhelming fatigue threatened to grip her, she fought to stay awake.

Harry had been forefront in her mind since he left with Mad-Eye Moody to look for the Horcruxes. The image of her best friend swam before her eyes, steadily coming into focus. Memories of him flashed through her mind like bullets in a crossfire. What has happened to him? Why hasn't he returned yet?

Sighing and closing her eyes to hold back her tears, she twisted her body around and collapsed into the soft pillows. It was only now that she became aware of the heaviness in her muscles, the acute pain in her joints whenever she moved them, and the throbbing in her temple. It was only now that she felt the sheer exhaustion of denying her body proper rest for three days.

As she lay there, eyes closed, mind blank, her weariness finally took its toll on her. Slowly, but surely, she drifted off to sleep.

"Hermione!"

A frightened whisper resounded in her ear, jolting her awake. As she opened her eyes, Ron's pale face filled her vision. Fear lurked in his bright blue eyes, which darted repeatedly above her head. Hermione stared at him, puzzled.

"What's wrong?" she asked, rubbing her eyes and sitting up slowly.

"Shh . . ." said Ron, putting a finger to his lips as he straightened up, his gaze fixed on a spot behind her. Raising an eyebrow slightly, she turned around to see what was bothering him. Lupin was crouched by the front door, his wand aloft. Hermione swung her legs down onto the floor and made to stand up--when she heard the noise.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

Someone was knocking on the door so ferociously that it was a miracle the door remained intact. Instinctively, Hermione drew her wand with a surprisingly steady hand. Beside her, Ron did the same, keeping his gaze fixed upon Lupin, who was gripping the doorknob tightly.

"Who is it, Professor?" asked Hermione in a barely audible whisper.

"Just get ready," came his curt reply. Ron and Hermione glanced at each other and approached the older man, standing on either side of him. With a resolute glance at the two of them, Lupin took a deep breath and flung the door open. The three of them raised their wands.

"Very warm welcome party you have here, Potter."

Hermione blinked. Standing in the doorway, their faces illuminated by the warm glow of the fire, were Harry and Mad-Eye Moody. The ex-Auror was grinning in his usual cunning fashion while Harry simply beamed, obviously very happy to have finally come home. Something inside her snapped.

"Harry!"

She rushed forward, nearly knocking Lupin over in her frenzied desire to reach her best friend. In one swift motion, she embraced him, trying to grasp the fact that he was still alive.

"I was so worried!" she cried, tightening her grip on him. For a moment, she thought she heard a choking sound, but amidst her euphoria at seeing him again, she gave it no thought.

"Hermione, he's suffocating!" said Ron in exasperation and before she knew what was happening, Hermione felt a pair of strong arms pull her away. Harry took a step backwards, his slightly pallid face bearing a lopsided grin.

"It's good to see you again, Mad-Eye," smiled Lupin, shaking the other man's hand. "And you, Harry . . ."

Hermione's eyes roamed Harry's figure, searching for any signs of injury. She located a few scars on his cheeks and arms and an ugly bruise on his left forearm. Lupin was still talking, but she uncharacteristically interrupted him, her brown eyes staring directly into Harry's.

"You're hurt. What happened?"

"Err . . ." began Harry with uncertainty, but Hermione cut him off.

"You weren't in a fight, were you? Where did you go? Where did you get hurt? Why are there scars on your face? Who did that? What--"

"Slow down, Hermione!" implored Ron, eyeing her exasperatedly. "Give the bloke some time to rest!"

Ignoring Ron's comment, Hermione gazed pleadingly at Harry, begging him to tell her. Sighing, Harry tugged his hand gently away from hers and turned to Moody.

"No use putting it off any longer," he said.

"Putting what off?" demanded Hermione.

"It can wait until morning," stated Mad-Eye firmly.

"I have to tell them or else Hermione won't stop pestering the both of us," explained Harry with a sidelong glance at Hermione. She felt a blush creep up her neck but she remained adamant.

"Technically, it's already morning, Mad-Eye," she persisted. "What happened?"

Behind her, Ron rolled his eyes while Lupin, ever the mediator, stepped forward and said, "Let's all go to the living room while I make some tea. Get some well-deserved rest--for a few minutes--" he stressed as Hermione stared daggers at him, "--and then you can tell us what happened on your mission."

Moody's bulging, electric blue eye swiveled around agitatedly as he released a gruff sigh. "All right then," he growled softly. "To the living room, you lot." Lupin led the way inside and the ex-Auror limped behind him. Ron was finally given the chance to greet Harry, and the two embraced like brothers.

"We were all dead worried about you, mate," he said, relief evident in his voice. "You've been gone for so long!"

"I'm sorry." Harry smiled sheepishly at the both of them. "I should have sent a letter or something but Mad-Eye didn't want me to do anything that gave away our position. We were staying in a very sketchy neighborhood."

When Hermione opened her mouth to ask him where they were, Ron cut her off sharply, "Quit it!"

She froze, his words stinging her. It took her a few moments to realize that her mouth was still slightly open. Closing it, she scowled venomously at the redhead before turning on her heel and storming into the living room.

"Hermione!" Harry tried to grab her hand but she was too quick for him. Angrily, she sat down on the couch and crossed her legs, glaring at the crackling fire.

A weight sank heavily into the spot beside her and a familiar scent filled her nostrils. She looked up in spite of herself. Harry smiled wearily at her as he ran his fingers through his unruly hair. On his left, Ron sat down, purposely avoiding her gaze. Her frown deepened.

"So, how are you?" asked Harry, attempting to steer her away from the furious thoughts forming once again in her head. It was a while before Hermione answered.

"I was fine, Harry, until you left. I've been worried sick ever since. And it doesn't help that some people just don't understand that."

Harry grimaced involuntarily as these hurtful words escaped her mouth. Ron slumped deeper into the couch, but aside from this, he gave no more indications that he had heard her. Harry tried again.

"We found something on our mission. Moody never really told me why we had to look for it, but we found it, and--"

Just then, the two adults returned, each carrying a mug of hot tea. Lupin smiled serenely at the three teens.

"There's more in the kitchen," he said. "Help yourselves."

"Thank you, Professor, but Harry was just about to tell me something," answered Hermione, turning once again to the young man beside her. Harry glanced at Moody, who exhaled an exasperated sigh. His electric blue eye whirled around a couple of times, and then he began to explain.

"Potter and I were down in the south county the past days. We wouldn't have stayed that long, but I came across something in my research that we just had to investigate. We went down to an old werewolf hideout to see if it was still there. It's a very run-down place, not a single ray of light in there except for blue-flame lamps. Almost all of the werewolves there have gone feral, like Greyback. Then there are also werewolf-wannabes who seek the dark atmosphere of the place."

"Ah, The Dirge, if I recall correctly?" asked Lupin thoughtfully.

"Same place." Moody nodded and sipped his tea with his crooked mouth.

"Werewolves have their own pubs?" said Ron incredulously.

"Feral werewolves usually deviate from normal crowds, Ron," explained Lupin delicately as he set his cup on the center table. "They usually congregate in places like The Dirge and consult other werewolves for--well, fresh meat." At this, both Hermione and Ron shuddered. "Also, ferals tend to despise sunlight, or any light for that matter. That's why they thrive in deep, dark places."

Harry, looking a bit nauseated, nodded in agreement. "The full moon had just ended, so we were relatively safe," he added. "Although that didn't stop them from trying to bite our heads off when they knew what we were trying to do . . ."

Harry walked slowly around the bar, trying to look casual and nonchalant; his youthful visage already attracted curious stares from the customers. Taking a deep breath, he put on his best malevolent look and tugged self-consciously at his leather jacket (a borrowed item of Kingsley Shacklebolt's to help him blend easily, along with McGonagall's expertise in Transfiguration that helped conceal his scar). He stole a glance across the room where Moody was having a shot of vodka. His mentor gave a small, discreet nod of encouragement that reassured him very slightly. With resolution, he ventured further into the crowd where a mix of perspiration, blood, and vomit reached his nostrils.

"Be wary, Potter," Moody had said. "Feral werewolves can detect a person's identity by the smell of their blood. Take extra care not to injure yourself."

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Harry stepped deeper into the pub, sweat threatening to burst from his brow. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest, and all he could think was, 'This is too bloody freaky.'

The questioning looks directed at him were now gone, and he breathed freely. Glancing around, he located the shabby, termite-ridden door he was supposed to find. As unobtrusively as he could, he made his way across the room. He turned the doorknob with a surprisingly steady hand and eased the door open. A darkened hallway greeted him, along with a rank, pungent smell of rotting flesh. Stemming the bile that rose in his throat, he stepped inside and closed the door quietly behind him.

'Great. Here goes nothing,' he thought sourly as he pulled his wand out from inside his jacket. He followed the long corridor, blessing the dust that muffled his footsteps. The passage seemed to go on forever; every step sent a jolt straight to his heart, and the piercing silence rung eerily in his ears.

Finally, he reached a solid barrier. He dared not light his wand, so he groped around, searching for a doorknob or something of the sort. He located a hinge or two, and moved to the other side where he finally found a rusty handle.

Allowing his lungs some air, he pointed his wand to his mouth and whispered, "I'm in the hallway, Moody."

A soft, gruff voice replied, "Good. I'll move into position now. Be careful, Potter."

"You too."

Setting his jaw on a firm line, Harry gripped the handle with his left hand, his wand with the other, and swung the door open. The ancient, rusty hinges screeched loudly, the spine-tingling sound echoing off the walls. Harry cringed and shut his eyes, waiting for a claw to slice at him or a Killing Curse to be fired.

Nothing.

Panting heavily, Harry opened his eyes slowly. Another shadowy hallway opened before him, but there was a something glowing at the end. He pulled the door closed behind him and walked forward, his curiosity aroused by the ethereal blue light.

He made his way down the corridor as swiftly and silently as he could. When he reached his destination, his eyes widened at the surreal sight that greeted him.

A sapphire jewel engraved with silver inscriptions was floating in midair. The wraithlike glow that surrounded it caused the hairs on Harry's arms to stand on end, but he kept his ground. Slowly, he raised his wand tip to his lips once more.

"I found it."

There was a scuffling noise from the other end. It was a while before Moody replied, "Get it and run, Potter! They're onto us!"

A jolt of panic surged through Harry's veins. He took a great leap and snatched the amulet from the air. All of a sudden, there was a bloodcurdling howl that chilled him to the bone. He scampered back down the passageway, shoving the amulet into his jeans pocket as he did. Breathing heavily, he yanked the Invisibility Cloak from inside his jacket and attempted to cover himself.

He was too late.

"You didn't get bitten, did you?" asked Lupin worriedly.

"No." Harry shook his head and both Ron and Hermione released huge sighs of relief. "Bloody fighters, they are, though. I got heavily scratched in the process. Thank Merlin McGonagall has a few healing tricks up her sleeve. We met her on our way here."

"How did you escape?" inquired Hermione, her cheeks marred by marks of her fingernails when she clutched her face during the chilling tale.

"Moody transformed his vodka glass into a Portkey," explained Harry, shooting a grateful look at the older man. "And just in time, too."

"Can I see the amulet for a moment, Harry?" spoke Lupin, the look on his face unreadable. Reaching into his jeans pocket, Harry pulled out the most beautiful, most intricate piece of jewelry Hermione had ever seen.

It was a circular sapphire amulet, hanging off a thin, gold chain. Engraved on the surface in brilliant silver were complicated designs and symbols that she could not decipher. Her eyes traced a long scribble, which seemed to end abruptly at the sharp, jagged edge. She was struck with a sudden realization.

"It's broken," she said.

"Yeah, it is," stated Harry, as he handed it to Lupin. "We couldn't find the other half; the gits wouldn't let us anywhere near their territory after we'd broken in."

"I've seen something like this before," spoke Lupin, an odd tone in his voice. When he raised his head to look at them, Hermione was surprised to find his eyes fixed upon hers.

"When? Where?" demanded Moody.

"Twenty years ago," answered Lupin, running his fingers over the engraved edges. "It's part of an old werewolf myth."

"What does the myth say?" asked Ron. He, Harry, and Hermione exchanged anxious glances before turning back to their former teacher. It was a while before Lupin responded.

"I can't tell you right now. But here's something that I'm sure of." His fingers closed tightly around the jewel. "This--this amulet--is one of Voldemort's Horcruxes."