Strange Happenings

She'd spent about a month holed up here and she'd hated it. Of course, she'd known why she was here without him explaining it to her. He was using her, and it was a brilliant scheme. Temptation was a very strong and persuasive thing. It could be used to sway and manipulate two people with their own desires.

She strolled across the room and her face bore down into that of her captor. He was tending to the fire; awaiting his master. She'd not been treated too horribly during this last month; although the Cruciatus Curse wasn't exactly Royal Treatment.

I want to go home, she thought suddenly. I want to see the outside again! Damn the Dark Lord and his evil genius.

***

Dumbledore sighed and pulled his silver strands of thought out of his Pensieve and returned them to his scalp. He looked down at the silver liquid in frustration. Voldemort was up to something; he could feel it. He'd been quiet for much too long. This usually meant trouble for one Mr. Harry Potter.

On top of his worries, he had to deal with the fact that his top student was acting rather odd. Hermione Granger was not herself. Recently, Professor McGonagall delivered grave news. "Miss Granger recently turned in an assignment the other day that was NOT up to her usual standards," the animagus informed him. "A piece of homework that was supposed to be fifteen inches summed up to a meager eight. I was forced to give her a 'D' for Dreadful due to her poor wording and lack of explanation on the effects of transfiguring any Muggle artifact into something illegal."

"Minerva," the Headmaster replied. "I fear that there is more to this than anyone can imagine. Has young Harry and Ron not said anything about her change?"

"I've noticed they're not speaking to her. It's odd, Albus. Please--," she was cut off in the midst of her sentence.

"Lemon drop, dear?"

"No, thank you," she remarked. Her eyebrows knitted together and her nostrils flared. How could the Headmaster be offering a Lemon Drop at this moment? Did he NOT have any sense of what was serious? Of course he does. She scolded herself. He's the Headmaster, after all. A little eccentric but always savvy. "Headmaster, do see that you talk to Miss Granger. If you'll excuse me, I've got to grade more papers." She gave a curt nod and exited the office.

Dumbledore seated himself behind his desk and began to think hard. The recalled conversation had not given any clues as to what had led to her strange behavior. There was a knock at the door and Dumbledore straightened in his seat. "Good evening, Miss Granger."

***

Hermione was extremely pissed off. Why in Merlin's name did the Headmaster want to see her? Um, hello! Her conscious answered. He's wondering as to why you've been acting like a royal pain in the arse, getting awful grades, and hanging about with Draco. She smiled to herself. There was a lot that Dumbledore knew, but the fact that she was planning to join the Dark side and help lead the Dark Lord to victory? She was certain that he was completely oblivious to that major issue.

Hermione left her thoughts behind when she found herself standing at Dumbledore's stone gargoyle. "Toffee bean," she stated. The Gargoyle swung forward and Hermione proceeded up the steps to the wooden door with the griffin knocker. She rapped on it smartly and turned the knob upon hearing the Headmaster's greeting.

***

"Potter! Bring your flask to the front. We shall see just how well you can concoct a Wiggenweld potion without the help of Miss Granger," Professor Snape commanded. His lips curved into a wicked grin. He was truly the root of all evil. Voldemort was insane, but this man was just plain evil.

Harry fixed a firm scowl on his face. He hated Snape; that was no secret. The greasy git just did not know when he'd pushed Harry too far. Or maybe he did know and that's why he'd continued.

The Boy Who Lived handed his vial over to the Potion's Master, who snatched it without a trace of gentleness. He examined the potion. The color was nearly what it should be, but yet not quite good enough. Professor Snape decided he would have some fun while living in his mundane life. He fixed the boy with an evil smirk. "You shall be testing your antidote. The Wiggenweld Potion, as I've mentioned, restores stamina and health. In order to see how good the solution is, we must first create the problem. Mister Malfoy," he called with less venom.

Draco smiled widely. The pallid, pointed Slytherin hurried to the front of the class. He studied Harry. The famous, green eyed child looked nervous. Draco could tell that he was trying to hide his apprehension with a hateful glare. "Mister Malfoy, I would like you to cast an enchantment on Potter that will weaken him. Nothing too harsh; we wouldn't want our resident celebrity...hurt." Amusement flickered in Snape's cauldron black eyes.

Before Harry had a moment to react, Malfoy shouted, "Stupify!" The Gryffindor flew backwards and landed hard on the dungeon floor. The cold stone made his back ache. His breath was knocked from his chest and he wheezed as he climbed to his feet. "Alright there, Potty?"

"Petrificus Totalus!" thundered Harry. Malfoy's body froze and he fell backwards.

"Finite Incantatum!" roared the Potion's Master. He watched as Malfoy climbed to his feet. "Potter, 50 points from Gryffindor for an unauthorized and unprovoked attack on a student!"

"Unprovoked?" bellowed Ron. "Malfoy just stunned him...erm...sir," he finished when Snape turned his icy gaze on him.

"A further ten points, Mr. Weasley. Mister Malfoy, go to the hospital wing. Potter, you will spend dinner in the dungeons cleaning cauldrons. Do not think that you will not be testing your antidote this evening," Snape sneered. "I want a two foot essay on the effects, properties, and correct way to brew a Wiggenweld potion. Class dismissed."

***

"What an idiot. He actually cursed you in front of Professor Snape?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Yea, and then the git had to stay after class and clean cauldrons. It felt so get to be allowed to send him crashing to the floor," laughed Draco. He smiled at the warmth of Hermione's lips on his neck. No one in Slytherin knew that they'd spent nights in the library; however they did accept the idea of Granger giving him information on Potty. Perhaps the Mudblood wasn't so perfect after all.

"I taught you the Cruciatus curse last time, right?" Draco inquired, brandishing his wand from his robes. Let's try that again."

Hermione pointer her wand at a book and transfigured it into a ferret. Malfoy blanched and glared. "Oh, very funny, Granger," Draco smirked and pointed his wand at the white ferret. Suddenly, it changed shape and took the form of a crimson colored weasel.

Hermione smiled at him and readied herself. Delicately, she pointed her wand at the squirming creature and murmured, "Crucio." The weasel twitched slightly and Hermione sighed.

"With more feeling," he spoke softly. He looked at Hermione. She ran a hand through her beautiful mane of hair and sighed.

"Alright," she concentrated. "Crucio!" This time the weasel began to squeal and writhe on the table. She watched, grinning, as it moved spasmodically. It flipped over and fell off the table and continued to tremor on the rug beneath it.

"I do believe you're starting to get the hang of this," he smiled. "You've mastered Rictasempra, Serpensortia, the Cruciatus curse, and a bunch of other bloody curses, jinx, and hexes."

A gleam of hopefulness flashed in Hermione's eyes. "Can we learn the Imperius tomorrow, Draco?"

He smiled at her. She was going to make Bellatrix jealous. Even she wasn't this talented. Draco grabbed her shoulders and pushed her against a wall. "Maybe," was his reply just before he crushed his lips against Hermione's.

***

He had been summoned by Dumbledore. Of course he believed anything that Dumbledore had to say. That was why he was currently galloping across the grounds on the back of a black horse. Its hooves struck the earth and dirt scattered. Harry whispered, "Whoa" as they approached an old, unused bridge. "Dysup," he murmured.

***

"Why don't I just fly my Firebolt there, Headmaster?"

"Harry, Wormtail's home is in Helmsley, England. It would take you days to fly a broom there. Portkey is out of the question. Lord Voldemort has put up wards against them and you don not have a license to apparate.. Peter's mother's house is abandoned. You won't find that it's connected to the Floo network. I've something that will get you there just as efficiently as a broom, but much, much faster. Come with me, Harry."

And Harry had followed him to the grounds and to Hagrid's hut. It was extremely dark, and he could barely make out the thick structure that stood in the pumpkin patch. As he got closer, he realized that it was a black horse. It pawed the ground impatiently. The closest Harry had ever come to riding a horse was a thestral. This one, however, was much more handsome. He had a long neck, a thick chest and a sturdy back. His tail swished behind him. Harry looked him in the face. His eyes demanded respect. "His name is Zaban," commented Hagrid.

"A horse? How is a horse faster then a broom?"

"This is no ordinary horse, Harry," smiled Dumbledore. "This is a Raeppasid. Give Zaban a squeeze and mutter, "Dysup" as soon as you reach the bridge. He will take you where you want to go".

***

Harry opened his eyes. His body was freezing cold and he felt as if a hurricane had just ripped through him. Zaban stood underneath him. Harry looked around and realized that they were parked on a rooftop. Below them was a yard. He gazed around at the surrounding trees. "This must be Wormtail's house," he muttered. Harry thanked his stallion and began to conceive a plan. How was he going to get into the house?

He began to walk the surface of the roof; looking for any entries. His eyes traced the front yard. Immediately, they landed on a large statue. A stone hippogriff stared across the grounds. There was nothing peculiar about the statue except that it seemed to be a bit lopsided. "Zaban," called Harry. The black stallion trotted to his side. "I need you to get me down to that statue," Harry pointed at the hippogriff. Zaban blinked and then began to lye down. Harry quickly swung a leg over his back and whispered, "Dysup."

Seconds later, the Boy Who Lived was in an underground tunnel that led from the mouth of the statue. Having experience with the statue of Grunhilda, the one-eyed, hump backed witch, Harry had suspected that this was an entrance.

He followed the path silently. Harry could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise as chilly air swept over him. He shuddered, pulled out his wand, and produced a warming charm. Unable to see anything, he used his wand again to create a light.

The tunnel didn't look at all man made. Stalactites and stalagmites hung from the ceiling and rose from the stone floor beneath his feet. If the situation at hand wasn't so terrible, perhaps he could have appreciated their beauty.

An hour passed and Harry found himself at a dead end. There were no stone steps leading to a way out. Harry cried out in frustration. Perhaps he had mistaken this tunnel for an entrance to the house. His coal black hair fell into his eyes and he pushed it away. Little beads of sweat dribbled down the back of his neck. Harry sighed and leaned against the wall.

He tumbled backward into a dark abyss. It felt as if he had been falling for ages. In fact, he had the fleeting thought that he was never going to stop. Finally, his body made contact with a rigid surface.

"Ow!" Harry landed with a hard thud onto the stone floor beneath him. He sat upright and looked around. His wand illuminated a tall, dark door in front of him. He stood and faced it. He reached for the knob, and pushed the door open. "Nox."

The room he entered was elucidated by a fire lit in the hearth. Tapestries, paintings, and portraits lined the walls. His feet were tracking mud onto a rug the color of toffee. The floor, of course, was made of stone. Harry slowly stepped across the room; alert for any noises or movements.

As he meandered about the area his eye was caught by a beautiful painting. Harry's eyes scanned over a wolf that stood atop a hill and bayed at the moon. A stag was prancing cheerfully at the bottom. A shaggy black dog came bounding up the hillside and tackled the wolf. The two wrestled playfully. All the while, a small rat watched from a rock.

"Enjoying my art work, Mr. Potter?"

Harry turned around to see the ugly face of Peter Pettigrew.

"Where is she, Wormtail?"

"I've no idea who this 'she' is. Perhaps-"

"Do NOT play games with me, you sorry excuse for a rodent. Where is Hermione?" demanded Harry. His eyes were blazing. "If you've hurt her-," Harry was cut off by a soft voice.

"I'm okay, Harry. It's a trap!! They've led you here to kill you. Just go before---,"

"Before what, you foolish child? Before I get here? Don't worry; I won't hurt your precious boyfriend. I've got a little surprise for him first. COME HERE, NOW!"

Voldemort ordered someone. A girl with brownish blonde curly hair stepped forward. Harry could not see her face. She was looking at her feet as she approached him. "Look at him," he commanded. The girl raised her head.

Harry found himself staring into the face of Hermione. "What?" He looked at the girl standing just in front of Voldemort and the one standing to his right.

"I've duplicated her, Potter. The girl at Hogwarts with you? That was not Hermione Granger. I knew of course, that Dumbledore would figure it out. Also, that he would send you to rescue her. However, you have to wonder, which one is the real Hermione and which one is my creation? If you guess correctly, Potter, I'll kill you, wipe her memory and set her free. If you guess wrong both of you will die," the Dark Lord smiled. His ultimatum was perfect. He won either way. Of course he'd kill them both. He was just toying with the brat.

Harry stared at the first Hermione. There was a pleading look in her eyes. The second Hermione also looked like she was begging him to choose her.

"What place did you take during the chess match?" Harry asked quietly. He stared at the pair of girls. The first supposed Hermione smiled. The other was a mirror image of her. Her smile faltered a little, but the first girl he'd met tonight plowed on.

"A rook. And Harry was a bishop and Ron was a knight," she continued to smile hopefully. "Then you and I had to figure out the order to drink the potions in. That was Snape's challenge."

Harry beamed at her. He then turned to Lord Voldemort. "I suppose you're going to kill us both now, right?"

"You've gained some wisdom over the years, Potter. You aren't so foolish as to believe that I wouldn't renege on our deal. Wormtail!" he yelled.

Pettigrew took the signal and pointed his wand at Hermione. "Avada kedavra!" Hermione crumpled to the floor in a dead heap. Wormtail smiled triumphantly.

"FOOL!" roared the Dark Lord. "You imbecile. You've killed the wrong girl!"

"Master, please, forgive me! I was--," suddenly, a jet of green light hit Wormtail. He fell to the ground; nothing more than a dead corpse.

"Potter, you will be next to die here tonight," remarked Voldemort. His wand still smoking from the last Unforgivable curse. He pointed it at Harry, who readied himself. Suddenly, he yelled "Imperio!" His wand changed direction and Hermione went rigid. "Kill him!" Hermione raised her wand at Harry and opened her mouth to curse him.

Abruptly, there was a loud crack like a whip. Albus Dumbledore was standing just behind Hermione. "Finitie Incantatum!" Hermione was standing stock still and blinking rapidly.

"Dumbledore!" Voldemort directed his wand at the Headmaster who stood calmly. "Avada Kedavra!"

Dumbledore, however, jumped out of the way and fired a hex at Voldemort. The Dark Lord was knocked off of his feet, "Harry, Hermione. Take Zaban and get back to Hogwarts! Now!"

Without further question the duo ran from the room and to the front door, which undoubtedly would take less time than the tunnel. Harry turned back in time to see the swish of a cloak, smoke, and Dumbledore and Voldemort were gone.

***

Harry and Hermione tumbled through the Fat Lady's portrait. They scrambled to their feet and took seats by the fireplace. "It was really weird," Harry commented. "You were acting like a complete git. And, you were hanging out with Malfoy!"

"Malfoy?? Oh god. Tell me I wasn't...with...Malfoy?"

Harry gulped. "Parvati said that you weren't in the Girl's Dormitory at night."

"Oh, Merlin. I think I'm going to be sick," she sighed.

"How're you going to break it to Malfoy?" Harry asked curiously.

"I've got an idea," she smirked.

***

Hermione smiled to herself as Draco entered the library. There was one good thing about her imposter. She would never have the memories of having any kind of sexual relations with Draco Malfoy.

"What am I to learn tonight?"

"I told you in my letter, idiot. Avada Kedavra."

"I had another idea." Hermione grinned. "Ferroedent!" Hermione laughed as Draco was suddenly transfigured into a small, white ferret. "That will never cease to make me laugh. Shall I leave you somewhere for Professor Snape to find, then? Wingardium Leviosa!" Draco floated up into the air and landed on a chandelier. "See you in the morning, Draco," she taunted and sauntered off to her Common Room.