Twenty-Four Hours

Twenty-Four Hours

By Michelle Malfoy

Chapter Eight

Draco shrugged. "You may do it, Father," he decided. "There will be more power behind it that way." Lucius nodded.

Raising his wand and pointing it directly at Harry's heart, he began, "Avada Ke--"

"NO!" a female voice cried. Lucius spun around, along with all the other Death Eaters, to see the one and only Michelle Malfoy looking petrifed and on the verge of tears. "You can't kill him, you just can't!" Lucius dropped his wand in surprise, but did not bother to pick it up. He didn't, in fact, notice that it was no longer in his hand. Hermione quickly grabbed it and snapped it in half.

"Diffindo," she whispered, pointing one half of the wand at the other, and continued doing so until the wand was reduced to a fine powder. She quickly brushed it around her so it wasn't all in a heap.

"What do you mean, no?" Lucius demanded.

"D-don't kill him," Michelle pleaded. Harry's emerald eyes widened. Sure, he had been getting along with Michelle that day, but there was a very large chance that Lucius would kill her for this. "Y-you shouldn't bother. Y-you should t-t-torture him first. A-and his f-friends, too." Harry saw a glisten in her silvery eyes and recognized it as an unshed tear. She had obviously never cried before.

Lucius pursed his lips. "True, that would be more effective," he began cautiously, "but that would give him more of an opportunity to escape." Michelle's heart sank. He was clearly catching on.

Quickly, she insisted, "How could he escape from that? It's indestructable, look at it, Father." She indicated the platform on which Harry was chained.

"True," Lucius said proudly. "And I'm sure that the Dark Lord would prefer to witness Potter's death." He pulled up his sleeve and touched the Mark burning brightly on his forearm.

A moment later, Lord Voldemort appeared in the room. "Lucius," he said, looking around and taking in everything - the prisoners, the platform, and the Death Eaters. "What a surprise." Turning his head and spotting Harry, he smiled cruelly. "Well, Potter, it seems that you have finally reached the end of your lifetime."

"You wouldn't believe this," Draco said in an annoying and un-Draco-esque way, "but she-" he pointed to his sister - "is sacrificing herself for him. My, my, Potter, this is quite a déjà vü scenario, don't you think? Halloween 1980, ring a bell?" Harry clenched his fists, his knuckles whitining and his throat feeling dry. He knew better than to lose his temper at Draco, but...

"Harry, don't," Hermione coaxed, stroking his hand. "Don't lose your temper, please don't lose your temper. Come on, you'd only be giving them a weapon to beat you with..."

And Harry felt all his anger rush away, his hatred pouring out of his body. He felt gracious to Hermione for whatever she had just done to tranquilize him so. "'Kay," he whispered. Hermione nodded.

"Well," Lucius said sternly to his son, disappointed at Harry's lack of emotion, "back to the task at hand."

"Which is what, precisely?" Bellatrix asked rudely.

"Shut up," Lucius snapped. "I was getting to that." Focusing his wand on Ron, he called, "Crucio!"

"RON!" Hermione cried, watching her boyfriend fall loosely in his chains, screams piercing the night. But the moment she cried out in anguish, the boy calmed down, and the pain appeared to stop, although Lucius was still casting the spell. He stared at his wand, which had apparantly turned to rubber. He glared at it.

Draco handed his father his own wand. "Thank you, Draco," Lucius said, and repeated the spell on the redhead, this time with no interruptions. And this time, Ron continued screaming throughout the entire spell, and there was no sign of the pain stopping abruptly. Considering this fact when the spell was completed, Lucius threw his own wand out the window.

The window. Harry gaped at the window, which seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. If Lucius could throw a wand out that window, then it was by all means a method of escape. He whispered this to Hermione, whose chocolate eyes widened in recognition. 'So now,' she thought, adrenaline pumping through her body, 'all we have to do is give the Death Eaters their satisfaction, and then as soon as they leave...'

"Hermione?" Harry asked. "Did you say something?" Hermione shook her head. "Yes you did!" Harry muttered. "Didn't you just say - you just said something about giving them their satisfaction... didn't you?"

"No," Hermione said, confused. "No, I thought that, but I didn't say it."

"I heard you say it."

"You couldn't have."

"I did, Hermione. I heard it, it was like an echo in my mind." Hermione's jaw dropped.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Well then," Hermione said under her breath, "I'll look into that. I will definitely look into that."

* * *

"They're gone," Michelle announced the moment the Death Eaters left the room.

"No duh," Ron snapped.

"Hey, everyone," Harry called, "you know how Lucius shattered my chains before, because he's a sadist and he wanted to see me shake in pain?"

"Yeah," Ron and Michelle said slowly.

"Well, that means that I can get to the window." He stood up and casually walked to the edge of the platform and stood right next to the window.

"Yeah..."

"But you still need to get us out, Harry," Hermione reminded him. "And you can't do that without a Death Eater who can undo these chains."

"No," Harry said. "That's where you're wrong. There's one other person who I know can undo these chains."

"Who's that?" Ron and Hermione asked.

"Rita Skeeter."

"You rang?" asked a sweet voice from the corner.

* * *

"So you're saying," Rita repeated slowly, "that you want me to undo your chains in exchange for... what, exactly?"

Harry and Hermione glanced at each other, then at Ron.

"Money?" suggested Michelle. "I have plenty of that."

"As do I," snapped Rita. "Try again."

"Joke stuff?" Ron asked.

"Hell, no!"

"How about," Hermione began, "in exchange for a promise from me that I won't tell anyone you're an unregistered Animagus."

Rita stared at her. Then she said, "No. Because if I don't help you escape, then you won't get out, and there's nobody here that would care if I'm an unregistered Animagus."

Hermione sighed. "That's where you're wrong. Harry can easily get outside, and he could go get help. He could just as easily get to the Ministry and rat you out."

Rita paused for a moment, then swept chestnut curls back behind her ears, walked over to Ron, and inserted her nail into his chains.

"So," came a drawling voice, "trying to escape, are we?"

Michelle spun around and was met with the cold, silver eyes of her brother. 'Oh, no,' she wailed to herself. 'Not again.'

"Skeeter," Draco ordered, "Go to my father and tell him precisely what you were doing."

"No, Draco, please!" Michelle exclaimed. "Please, no..." She looked at him with pleading eyes and he returned her gaze with scorn and disdain.

"And why not?"

"Because," Hermione said softly, "it's the right thing to do. I'm not asking you to do it for me, or for Ron, or even for Harry's sake, but if you'd at least let your sister escape, then I'd be proud of you. And another thing, you won't have to see your father after you die if you help us escape. Because, Draco, your father is a murderer and he can't change that anymore. He's going to hell. His fate is sealed. You're still seventeen; you can change. And if you do, then nobody can say 'You're exactly like your father' anymore. He's evil, and you're just a spoiled brat. There's a difference."

For a moment, Harry was sure that Draco was going to give in. His eyes flashed pity, but it was gone in a moment and he was back to his old nasty self. "What would I get from it?" he asked, and crossed his arms over his chest with a smirk.

"I take it back," Hermione snarled in Harry's ear.

"What was that, Granger?" Draco asked, eyes glittering maliciously.

"Nothing," she snapped. "Nothing."

"She said," Rita drawled, "'I take it back.'"

"Did she, now?" Draco asked gleefully. "Hmm. That would mean that she deserves some punishment, does she not?"

"Oh, shut up," Hermione snapped. "You don't have your wand, and well you know it."

"Oh, but I do," Draco said, plunging his hand into his robes pocket and pulling out - surprise, surprise - his wand.

"Accio!" Hermione called, forgetting about the fact that she didn't have her wand.

But something incredible happened. The moment she reached out her palm towards the wand, it shot directly towards her and landed in her hand. Her eyes widened, but she quickly tossed the wand to Harry, who pocketed it. He knew better than to throw it out the window. It might come in handy.

"H-how'd you do that?" Draco asked, terrified though he didn't show it.

Hermione smirked at him, an expression never before seen on her face. Nothing about her movements showed that she didn't know how she had done it, but that was the truth.

"You know what," Draco decided, "you can just... go. I won't tell my father." He sped like lightning out of the room, Rita trailing behind him.

As soon as they were gone, Hermione and Harry erupted in laughter. "The look on his face!" Harry cried, clapping his hands together. "How did you do it, 'Mione?" Everyone turned to look at her, wondering.

"Er... I don't know," Hermione admitted. "It just... happened."

"Like you were able to stop the Cruciatus Curse?" Ron asked.

"And how you were able to talk in my mind?" Harry wondered.

"I... guess so. Those were all pretty weird. Let's go, and we can ask Dumbledore about them."

"Wait!" Michelle cried. "I can't leave."

"Why not?" Ron asked, annoyed.

She bit her lower lip and twirled a strand of white-blond hair around her finger. "I... can't just leave. My father will hunt me down, I know he will. He can stop by at Hogwarts whenever he wants, just to pick me up and bring me back here. He's a school governor. And anyway, I have to go home for Christmas break."

"So?" Ron demanded. "That's ages away."

"It's three months away, Ron," Hermione pointed out. "Not exactly ages. And Michelle's right, we can't just let her father kill her that way. We need to settle something with him." She gulped. "Or... with Draco. That might be easier."

"Yeah," Michelle agreed. "He'd listen as long as I point my wand at him. He knows I can do the Unforgivable Curses, no problem. Let's go find him."

She led them, because if there were any Death Eaters who still didn't know that she was a prisoner, it would look like she belonged there. "There," she hissed. "That's his room." They filed in quietly and saw Draco sitting on the windowsill, exactly as he had before his father had cast the Cruciatus Curse on him.

"What do you want?" he asked coldly.

"Draco, I need you to help me. Please. You have to convince Father - "

"I'm not convincing Father anything. Forget it."

"You have to convince Father that I'm on your side. Please. Draco, he'll kill me if you don't. Please."

"Why should I?" Draco asked.

"Because - " she grabbed Draco's wand, which Harry had been holding - "I - " she pressed it against his throat - "said - " she pushed it against his throat with more force - "so."

Draco nodded.

"That's what I thought. Now go." She pushed him out of the room and then walked over to the window where Draco had been sitting. "Hermione, want to go first?"

"Sure," the other girl agreed, and quickly hopped out. Harry followed her, then Michelle, and then Ron. Hermione locked the window after that, and raced outside with her companions.

"What's that?" Michelle demanded, staring at an aquamarine speck, growing larger and larger in the sky.

The speck formed into a car and raced onto the lawn. Seven people (who clearly deserved a larger automobile) sat inside it, looking relieved to see the Trio and confused to see Michelle.

"Ron!" Ginny exclaimed. "Ron, get in!" She jumped out of the passenger's seat, let Ron sit down, and sat on his lap. [A/N: She's his sister, it's not an incest thing. Trust me, it's not.] "What's she doing here?" Her brown eyes fell upon Michelle's silver ones.

"She rescued us, Ginny," Harry explained, walking into the car and squeezing in between Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas. "It's all right. Let her in." Hermione walked in first, sitting herself on Harry's lap. [A/N: Yes, I know she's going out with Ron in this story. Only, Ron already has enough weight on him. Let it go.] Michelle looked confused.

"What is this thing?"

"It's a car," Hermione explained patiently. "A muggle thing. Just get in, it'll get us where we need to go." The ten-year-old shrugged and walked in, but seemed at a lack of places to sit.

"She can sit on my lap," offered Dylan Burkhard. Michelle shrugged and did so. Dylan was a Slytherin, but not evil like many people thought he was. In the previous year, he had acted as a Death Eater for a short time, but had been brought back to the Light by none other than the Trio and his own twin sister, Evelyn. By that time Snape had discovered a potion to wipe the Dark Mark permanently off one's flesh, so neither he nor Dylan no longer had to deal with constant burnings on their forearms.

"Ready?" asked Fred Weasley, for he was the driver. A murmur of assent met these words, and a moment later, the car began to fly in the air, leaving a perplexed Draco standing alone on the lawn.

* * *

"So... you did magic. Without a wand," Ginny confirmed. Hermione nodded. "And you spoke telepathically with Harry." Hermione nodded. "And you stopped an Unforgivable Curse?" Hermione nodded again. "Hell, Hermione, that has to be some kind of record! How the hell...?"

"We don't know," Harry said. "We don't know. Now Fred, would you mind not gaping at Angelina for one second? Because I think that driving consists of three basic rules. One - keep your eyes on the road. Two - keep your eyes on the road. Three - "

"Keep your eyes on the road," everyone (except Fred) chorused.

"Yeah, that's about it," Ron agreed. "And hell, I know driving."

Harry smirked. "He really does," he confirmed. "Well, driving into trees, at least." Ron looked at him guiltily. Hermione noticed that Michelle was looking uncomfortable in the mass of the nine Gryffindors and one second-year [A/N: That's Dylan] whom she knew to be nothing but evil. Sure, Michelle had been her fair share of evil, but not quite as betraying and backstabbing as Dylan. Dylan had betrayed his own sister!

So, Michelle decided to tell her own story. "Hey, there was this one time when my Father was in a meeting, and I walked in to listen, and there was this muggle, right? She was being tortured and everything, so I was like, ooh, let's watch. So I sat down, right, and there was this cool thing - the Dark Lord did this neat spell and she basically exploded. It was soooooo cool!"

Everyone was staring at her. "Uh, Michelle," Dylan began tentatively, "I think you might want to stick to telling the Slytherins those kinds of stories."

Hermione, Ron, and Fred all nodded. "Yeah, that wasn't the most sanitary story either," Ron decided.

The car pulled up right beside Hogwarts, and Ron glared at his brother. "Why is it that you can drive this car with that same exact sweeping arrival that I imagined back when I drove it? And you know what happened."

"Well, that's probably because you were twelve, and I'm nineteen," Fred pointed out. "Also, you're pretty clumsy, and I'm not. Um... you drove into a killer tree, and I didn't. That's about it." He clapped his brother on the back, hugged Ginny, and after dropping them all off, sped away.

* * *

"Interesting..." the Headmaster said. "That's quite fascinating, Miss Granger. And I do know the explanation to those acts."

"Yes?" Hermione asked, sitting up straighter in her seat.

Dumbledore sighed. "Miss Granger, you are gifted with a rare, inexplicable branch of magic called parsicny. [A/N: Par - sik - nee.] This means that you can do basically anything, as long as you concentrate hard enough on what you want to happen, and especially the results. I'm not talking about turning Mr. Malfoy's chocolate into broccoli, but if you concentrate on making something explode and imagine the object in ruins, it will most likely do what you wish. If you wish for someone to receive a message without speaking aloud, if you stare in their eyes they will hear your thoughts in their head."

He continued, "There have only been several parsicnists throughout history. These parsicnists have all left their mark on the world in different ways. Each of the four Founders was one. I happen to be one, as well as Lord Voldemort." Michelle and Ron flinched. "Harry's parents were each parsicnists, and so was Sirius Black." Harry shuddered, and Hermione began massaging his shoulders. Dumbledore turned to Michelle. "Your father and brother are parsicnists. It is quite probable that you are one as well, but it is impossible to tell until one is eleven years of age. Haven't you ever wondered, Miss Granger, why you were trusted with that Time-Turner? To anyone else we would have cut five or so of your classes, but we knew that as a parsicnist, we could trust you to use the Turner wisely."

"Miss Granger, you should know that in your second year, you were not looking in the mirror when you saw the basilisk. Penelope was, but you were, in fact, seeing it normally. It was due to the fact that you are a parsicnist that you were only Petrified and not killed."

"She's a parsicnist?" Harry whined. "But that's not fair! I should be the parsicnist. I'm the one who defeated Voldemort - "

"Harry... calm yourself," Hermione coaxed, and Harry did.

Ron stared at her. "Quit doing that. It's creepy, that parsicny."

"Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said, "one of your siblings is a parsicnist. Can you guess whom?"

"Bill?"

"No."

"Charlie?"

"No."

"Percy?"

"No."

"Fred?"

"No."

"George, right? It has to be George."

"No," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye.

Ron let out a long, low wail. "Noooooooooooooooooooooo," he whined. "NO!"

"Mr. Weasley, that is enough," Dumbledore snapped. "Calm yourself - "

"Yes, Ron, please do," Hermione said, and Ron did.

"I hate it. I hate parsicny," Ron sulked from his chair.

"I like it," Ginny giggled.

"Well, me too," Hermione said, shrugging. "But that's because we can do it."

"As parsicnists," Dumbledore went on, "you have the power of Metamorphomagi, as well as the ability to turn into an animal at will. Go ahead, try it."

And within moments, a fuzzy brown owl was fluttering where Hermione had been standing moments before.

"Go on, Ginny," came Hermione's voice from inside the owl.

"All right," the other parsicnist agreed, and within a second, a fluffy orange kitten replaced the sixteen-year-old girl. A moment later, they both switched back.

"All parsicnists can turn into a different animal. Lily Potter was a butterfly, while her husband was a stag." Harry glared. "Sirius Black was a dog, and I am an eagle. Salazar Slytherin was a snake, Godric Gryffindor was a lion, Rowena Ravenclaw was a raven, and Helga Hufflepuff was a badger."

"Figures," muttered Ron.

"Your father is a horse," Dumbledore said to Michelle, "and your brother is a dragon. A small dragon, but still a powerful one. Finally, Lord Voldemort, as the heir of Slytherin, can turn into a snake. Yes," he said to Ron, "it was he who attacked your father two years ago."

"And now," Dumbledore announced, "I have decided that I will give these two parsicnists their own room, because their power will undoubtedly begin developing more soon. Tap the fifth brick in the center directly above the fireplace in Gryffindor Tower and say this password." He held out two scraps of parchment, one to each parsicnist.

"On your birthday," he said to Michelle, "you may be given your own room, if you prove to be a parsicnist. Now go to sleep, all of you. Miss Granger, Miss Weasley; your belongings have been brought to your room. Go."

Everyone left the office, chattering softly about animals, magic, and particularly about parsicny. "Lucky you," Harry growled at Hermione, linking hands with Ron and deciding to be angry with her.

"Yeah, lucky you," Ron snarled.

"Oh, shut up, both of you. You're really, really immature, you know that?"

"I know," Harry snapped defiantly. "What'cha gonna do about it?"

"I'm going to go to bed. And I'm going to be very, very annoyed at you," Hermione decided.

"Good plan," Ginny agreed, and walked up to Gryffindor Tower with her friend.