Pieces of a Soul

Chapter 10: Gullibility

Harry looked across the room just in time to notice one of the Hogwarts barn owls soaring towards the kitchen window, a large parchment envelope clenched in its beak. Yawning as he rose from the table, which had been haphazardly decorated for Halloween with a couple of pumpkins and a luminescent ghost figurine from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, he opened the window just in time, for he had been expecting this owl.

"Is it the plans?" Lupin asked tiredly as Harry opened the envelope, which contained several pieces of apparently blank parchment that Narcissa had charmed to reveal their contents only when Harry himself touched them with his wand.

"Yeah," Harry said slowly, sitting down as Ron, Hermione and Ginny all crowded around him to see what she had sent. "Blimey, this is complicated. We've got to go when the moon is at a certain phase - "

"Not full, I hope," Lupin interjected wryly, for he had just recovered from his last transformation and was hoping to accompany the teens on this mission.

"No," Hermione said, peering over Harry's shoulder. "It appears that the breach in the wards has to take place two days past the half moon."

"There's a very small window..." Harry muttered, reading the aristocratic handwriting of Narcissa Malfoy. "If we miss the gap in the wards by as little as a foot..."

"A foot?" Ron cried indignantly. "Harry, tell me again why we're trusting anything given to us by a Malfoy. For all we know, she's been talking to her husband this whole time!" He had been asking this question ever since Harry had relayed the information Narcissa had given him the previous Monday.

"Stop it, Ronald, you know she can't have been," Ginny snapped, irritated with her brother because he had once again tried to stop her participation in the raid, and had only yesterday threatened to tell their mother about the entire plan. Even though everyone at Grimmauld Place had known that Ron would not have done anything of the sort, Ginny had been angry with him ever since.

"We're going to have to plan everything by the second," Hermione said worriedly. "If we make even one mistake, we're done for."

Lupin slid the stack of parchment over to his side of the table and everyone was silent for a few moments as he looked it over carefully, chewing on the end of a quill as he read.

"This can be done," he finally announced, standing up and stretching. "Who wants breakfast?"

Everyone stared at him, the idea of fried ham and cold toast feeling almost repulsive to their stomachs in light of everything they had to do.

Lupin sighed. "I was hoping to buy myself some time to think," he admitted. "But if you're all certain that you're not hungry..."

"We're certain," the four of them, even Ron, said in unison. Ron, however, as interested as he was in how exactly they were going to raid Malfoy Manor for an artifact more carefully hidden and protected than probably any other in the Wizarding world, was actually thinking longingly of a breakfast of his mother's kippers and wondering if Hermione would ever learn to cook properly. What Hermione would have said if she could have read this thought, however, was probably best left to the imagination.

"Do you think we should split up?" Harry asked, thinking of Quidditch feinting strategy.

"I don't think there are enough of us," Lupin replied. "I think we'll be stronger if we stick together in a defensive formation."

"Like the one we used in May?" Ginny asked, remembering the triangular, back-to-back stance she, Ron and Hermione had adopted during the duel with Voldemort.

"Right," Lupin said, dipping his quill into a pot of bright red ink and making some squiggly lines on the crudely-drawn map Narcissa had provided for them. "I think our best approach would be - "

He was interrupted by a loud "whoosh" as the kitchen fire suddenly burned green and they all scrambled to their feet, wands held at their sides but ready for quick action. Though the Grimmauld Place grate was as well-protected as any on the Floo Network could possibly be, no one in the house was ever comfortable when someone came through it unannounced.

When the green flame had died down, they stared into the fireplace in surprise. Rather than an Order member stepping briskly out of the fire as they had expected, a medium-sized box now rested right in the middle of the now-normal flames, the official logo of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes stamped on the top of it in bold, glittering color. Squinting suspiciously, Lupin muttered and incantation and swept his wand over the box, stepping back when he became satisfied that it was not dangerous.

"Well, don't just stand there," the box bellowed in a voice that sounded uncannily like George's. "Get me out of this fire before I'm burned to a crisp!"

"How did they do that?" Hermione asked the kitchen at large as Ginny rushed forward, giggling, to grab a pair of tongs and rescue the package, which was starting to smolder. "I've never heard of an object being sent through the Floo Network without a witch or a wizard. Muggles can't even do it!"

"There's no accounting for what those two get up to," said Ron without thinking. Even now, almost a year after Fred's death, most of them still had trouble separating George from his twin. Realizing his mistake, he hastily added, "George and Percy, I mean. Percy's gotten a lot more fun..."

"It's okay, Ron," Ginny said gently, surprising all of them by putting her arm around his shoulders. "Should we open it?"

"I don't know," Harry replied dubiously, staring at the package now lying on the center of the table. He sniffed the air as though this might give him a clue as to the box's contents, but he smelled nothing other than slightly charred parchment.

"Are you going to open me or just stare at me like a bunch of ninnies?" the box called tauntingly, wiggling a little bit on the table. This time, to everyone's amazement, the voice coming from the box actually sounded more like Percy than George.

"They'd never do anything that would actually hurt anybody..." Ron said uncertainly.

"And that box is likely to keep shouting at us ever few moments until we do open it," Lupin pointed out, his eyes twinkling. He enjoyed any little bit of levity that came into Grimmauld Place, for, truth be told, in the midst of the war Sirius's childhood home was almost as dark and depressing as it had been when it had been inhabited by the Black family themselves.

"Quite right I'll keep shouting," the box called, once again sounding like George.

"Can it hear us?" Hermione asked, once again sounding completely amazed at the level of magic that was used when making Weasley's Wheezes.

"Of course I can," the box replied indignantly, leaving no doubt that it was Percy who was speaking this time. "Exactly what do you think I am?"

"Well, you're a box," Ginny told it simply.

"THEN ARE YOU GOING TO OPEN ME OR NOT?" the box yelled, seeming to be at the end of its attempts of good humor.

"Oh, go on," Harry finally said, eager to see what was in the box despite the gravity of what they had been discussing prior to its unconventional arrival. He knew that what Ron had said was perfectly true: George and Percy would never send them anything that would actually hurt them, and it was obvious by the voices coming from the box that it had, in fact, originated from them.

For a moment, the five occupants of the kitchen looked at one another, silently trying to decide who was going to be the one to open the box. With a slight smile, Ginny finally stepped forward, leaned over the table and pulled on the leather thong holding the box closed.

A deafening explosion pierced through the room, knocking all of them to the ground.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

"Lord Voldemort offers his gratitude," Voldemort said coldly to the prostrated form of Peter Pettigrew, his tone leaving no doubt that the man before him had not yet regained a position in the Dark Lord's good graces.

"We have no information regarding when the burglary will take place," Lucius Malfoy pointed out smoothly. "And while, as you know, I will follow all orders in their entirety, I would be remiss if I did not point out - "

"That you have been bested by the Potter boy and the Order on more than one occasion?" Voldemort completed contemptuously. "Very well, my slippery friend. Lord Voldemort has noted your concern."

Malfoy bowed his head in what looked like shame to those in the room with him. If they could have seen his face, however, his carefully concealed fury would have been revealed. "My Lord," he muttered, "Though I am aware of your displeasure with my previous efforts, I wish only to point out that to keep any number of people waiting in Malfoy Manor would be an unwise move, as I have no doubt that the Manor is being watched by the Ministry." He kept his voice as smooth as always, and even Voldemort did not detect the resentment behind his words.

"Your wife could provide us with the necessary information," Bellatrix pointed out, smiling maliciously. Since Narcissa's disappearance, she had never once referred to their relationship as sisters.

"I have no doubt that your sister is fully aware of any plans the Potter brat has come up with," Malfoy said sneeringly, lifting his head. "But unless this useless lump of flesh manages to happen upon the right conversation at the right time once more - " at this, Peter could not restrain himself from an offended little squeak " - that information may be difficult to bring to light."

"Let us not forget our other source at Hogwarts," Voldemort said quietly, sitting down on the high stone chair in the center of the room and surveying them all disdainfully. "And I do believe that Narcissa's time of refuge at that school has quite ended."

Both Lucius and Bellatrix looked hard at the Dark Lord when he said this, though neither of them betrayed any hint of worry for Narcissa's fate - they simply wondered what he was planning. To attack Hogwarts at this juncture would be nothing more than folly, and they all knew it.

"My Lord," Wormtail began eagerly, still desperate to prove his usefulness, "perhaps if Narcissa could be incited to join Potter and his little friends when they attempt to breach the Manor."

Voldemort looked at him with cold amusement. "What an innovative idea, Wormtail," he said, causing the short, pudgy man to nearly squeal again in excitement and relief. "I suppose you will simply transform into your human form and request this from her?"

Wormtail froze and lowered his head.

"Nevertheless, Wormtail's idea has a certain amount of merit," Voldemort continued. "I believe it is time to call in our other source. I believe, with the right encouragement, she could be recalled."

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Ginny was the first to recover her senses after the box had exploded, standing and rubbing her backside ruefully where it had come into sudden contact with the hard stone floor. When she caught sight of the others, however, she burst into unrestrained laughter for the first time in a very long time.

Harry looked at her questioningly, wondering if whatever had been in the box had made her quite mad. Cursing himself for opening a package that had arrived so mysteriously without even checking it for hexes, he stood as well, stretching out his right elbow, which had been his first contact with the floor. After looking at her for a moment, however, he blinked, trying to figure out if what he was seeing was a result of the blinding flash of light that had accompanied the loud noise of the explosion, or if Ginny was actually...well...neon pink.

He looked at Ron, Hermione and Lupin in turn, his face breaking out into a grin as he realized what had happened. Ron's entire body, including his hair, had been turned a vibrant shade of blue; Hermione had been colored royal purple; and Lupin had quite inexplicably turned a violent shade of green. As the others realized what was happening, four more voices joined Ginny in raucous laughter.

"Harry, my love," Ginny gasped, taking his bright orange hand in her neon pink one, "if I had known you would look so devastatingly handsome this way, I would have painted you orange long ago."

It took them a moment to realize that the box was still sitting, wide open but empty, on the long wooden table. Still giggling, Ginny stepped forward and prodded it with her wand. "Oi!" she called. "You've had your fun, now turn us back!"

A small, harmless burst of colored sparks burst from the open box, and a loud voice which seemed to be a combination of George's and Percy's proclaimed, "Tired of the gray, rainy British weather? Want a little color in your life? Does your family need cheering up? Look no further than Weasley's Rainbow-in-a-Box, complete with embedded Cheering Charms! Now available at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes! Color your entire family happy for the reasonable price of only five galleons!"

Ginny and Hermione succumbed to another bout of the giggles as they gazed helplessly at their brilliantly-colored companions, who were all still chuckling and looking dumbfounded.

"It's amazing magic," Hermione said as she tried to regain control of herself. "I wonder if it's a Glamour or a Confundus Charm, or..."

"Who cares?" Ron laughed. "Bloody brilliant if you ask me."

"Harry!" Lupin said, still chuckling at his own bright green skin as he pointed towards the window. "Mail's coming!"

"Right," Harry said, trying without success to pull a serious face.

"Oh, Harry, your eyes look so green against your orange skin!" Ginny said, attempting, it seemed, to wax romantic. "So..." she gasped, "so...toady!" The room burst into renewed laughter as Harry almost skipped towards the window to let Errol, the Weasley family owl, into the kitchen.

Errol landed with an ungraceful thud on the table, a large parchment envelope, not unlike the one Narcissa Malfoy had sent, clutched in his beak. Harry wondered what this was about. Had Mrs. Weasley somehow found out what they were up to? He felt his cheerfulness fade just a bit, but not enough to keep him from grinning broadly as he took the envelope and led Errol to a bowl of water by the sink.

"What is it?" Ginny asked, still grinning but seemingly over her fit of the giggles.

Harry opened the envelope and pulled out a large card concocted with bits of parchment and glue, as if by a child who was just learning how to draw. It was a lopsided pumpkin, painted orange, with a wide black smile and three triangles for eyes and nose. On the back, with a flourish of purple ink, the artist had signed his name: "Arthur Wasely."

The wonderful feeling of euphoria and silliness that had pervaded the room was gone as quickly as it had come, for there in Harry's hand was a concrete token of all who had suffered at the hands of Voldemort and his followers. He set the homemade greeting card on the table and sank into his chair, feeling suddenly and completely depressed. The others mimicked his movements, and they all noticed that as soon as the cheerfulness had begun to fade, so did the vibrant colors, leaving all five of them looking as pale and as gloomy as ever.

"It's sweet," Ginny said in an effort to be optimistic, but even her spirit was temporarily broken. She was not sure why, but she had thought her father was improving more rapidly than this. Though his childlike innocence was often touching, she and all of the others longed for the father they had known to come back to them.

"It's rubbish," Ron said roughly, grabbing the parchment and crumpling it in one hand. He blinked furiously. This tangible reminder of his father's condition was more than he could take.

"Ron, don't," Hermione said softly, taking the battered parchment pumpkin from him and smoothing it out once again. They all sat and stared at it for a long while; even Lupin could think of nothing encouraging to say just then. It was as if the Cheering Charm had left behind a Sobering Charm as it had dissipated, leaving them in a worse state of mind than they had been before. Harry made a mental note to let George know about this effect as soon as he was able to.

Just when it seemed the atmosphere in the room couldn't get a bit gloomier, Hedwig soared through the window, a large parcel clutched in her talons. She landed delicately on the table, laying the parcel gently down before releasing it and stepping daintily away.

In spite of himself, Harry grinned at the package, recognizing its shape at the same moment Lupin did.

"It's from Aberforth," he told the others, unwrapping it from its brown paper. They all watched in interest; it was obviously a bottle, but the three others were not familiar enough with the various types of alcoholic beverages on the market to know what it was before it was unwrapped.

"Firewhiskey!" Ron exclaimed when Harry showed the bottle of Ogden's Best around the table. A small note was attached:

Dear Harry, etc.

Hope you enjoy this bottle and have a happy Halloween. Don't let that old bugger get you down.

Cheers,

Aberforth

Harry grinned again, bringing his emotions back into balance. It was just like Aberforth to send him a bottle of Firewhiskey...Aberforth, who seemed to think that there was nothing that a good drink and a walk in the outdoors couldn't cure.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Ron asked excitedly, having always wanted to taste Firewhiskey but never having had the opportunity.

"Erm..." Harry said.

"How about we wait at least until we've had breakfast," Ginny cut in, smiling and ignoring the semi-disapproving stares coming from Hermione.

"Oh, right," Ron muttered, embarrassed. It was barely nine in the morning, which would have been early even for Fernie Itchering or Mundungus Fletcher to drink something as strong as Ogden's Best.

Hermione clucked at him reproachfully but chose to change the subject rather than to embarrass him further. Even though she, like her parents, did not strictly approve of strong drink, she knew that Mr. Weasley's card had been a hard blow for Ron and she didn't want to make the morning even harder for him. Congratulating herself on her self-restraint, she said, "So...when are we going to the Manor?"

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Severus Snape would have spoken to Narcissa Malfoy sooner, but the Gullibility Potion he had been ordered to concoct took a full five days to mature, and he knew that no matter what his motivations, he dared not fail in estimating the potion's effectiveness. If it had been properly brewed, which he knew it had been, just a small amount would cause Narcissa to believe any and everything she was told for a limited amount of time. He did not plan on giving her much; he only needed it to last a couple of minutes.

It took him some time to reach the south tower in which Narcissa's quarters were located, well away from the every day hustle and bustle of the school. He met no students in the halls as it was well past curfew, and that was quite fortunate - striding up stone staircases and past dusty suits of armor quickly, robes sweeping behind him and with a determined scowl upon his face, he would have badly frightened most of even the most seasoned students in the castle.

Reaching Narcissa's chamber at last, Snape knocked curtly on the door, not really caring whether or not she had gone to sleep yet. Apparently, however, Narcissa was a night owl, for when she opened the door she was still fully dressed in rich-looking black velvet robes, her blonde hair swept into a perfect chignon.

Though Snape's expression remained purposefully detached, his heart skipped a beat as he looked at her. Though she was as beautiful and aristocratic as ever, there was something in her eyes, something broken and pleading, that struck him in a profound way.

"Severus," she said dully, opening the door to allow him to enter her room and stepping aside as he swept past.

"Narcissa," he replied, his voice as oily and distant as ever. He strode in, keeping his gaze away from her face, and purposefully positioned himself next to a small end table on top of which was a half-drunk glass of dark red wine.

"To what do I owe this...honor?" she asked without any real emotion. "I would assume you have been sent by the Dark Lord to bring me back in?"

"In a manner of speaking," Severus replied coolly.

"The only aspect of this matter which surprises me is that I have been allowed to remain here unmolested for such a long period of time," Narcissa stated, the merest edge of bitterness to her voice now.

"I have had no inclination to disturb you," Snape said idly.

"So tell me, are you to take me now?" she asked. Though Snape knew that Narcissa was fully aware of what would await her at the Dark Lord's hands upon her return, she showed not a hint of fear.

"Narcissa, there are some things you must understand," he said rather than answering her.

She looked at him piercingly. "So my sister was correct," she said flatly. "You are a spy for the Order of the Phoenix."

He did not answer.

She laughed mirthlessly, waving her smooth, long-fingered hands in a gesture of disbelief. "And here I always thought you were loyal," she said, stressing the last word to imply that to be loyal was not necessarily a virtue. "Why, Severus, I do believe there is more to you than meets the eye."

"I am most sorry about Draco - " Snape began with a real hint of regret in his voice. Though he had not made a move to stop Lord Voldemort from killing the boy, he had always wondered whether he could have prevented it.

Her eyes flashed. "Do not speak to me of my son," she spat, and just as he had predicted she would do, turned away from him to hide the tears that had once again sprung into her eyes.

He used her short moment of weakness to tip a few drops of Gullibility Potion into her wine, recorking the bottle and storing it once again in the pocket of his robes just as she turned back to him, her eyes dry and her face devoid of feeling.

"Narcissa," Snape said smoothly. "Please, sit down. I wish only to speak to you." He gestured at the end of the sofa next to her now-tainted glass of red wine.

Sighing with irritation, Narcissa sat. "What is it, Snape?" she asked at last. "If you're not here to take me back to the Dark Lord, then why have you come?" Taking up her glass, she took a measured sip and stared at him.

Snape did not hesitate in answering, for he knew she would have to drink more of the wine if the potion was to be effective. "I have come to find out your intentions," he replied. "You and I, unless I am much mistaken, find ourselves in a unique position, truly loyal to neither faction in this war."

Narcissa made no reply, but sipped her wine again, taking a slightly longer draught.

"Our position," Snape continued, watching her carefully, "puts us in more danger from both sides than you perhaps realize." He was exceedingly careful in the wording he chose, knowing that the conversation was being monitored.

"I am perfectly aware of the danger," Narcissa replied bitingly, sipping her wine again. "I, however, unlike you, have no fantasies that I will live a long life, nor do I care to."

The abject pain behind these words struck Snape dumb for a moment, for here was a woman who no longer cared about life. She had no loyalties, no family, no urgent desire to "do the right thing" or uphold any sort of moral code. He had been right to a larger extent than even he had originally guessed - he and Narcissa Malfoy were almost exactly the same now.

She sipped her wine again. "So I ask you again: why have you come?"

Just as she said these words, a light veil seemed to fall over her eyes and her expression became unfocused. To someone not expecting the change, it might have gone unnoticed, but Snape picked up on it immediately, knowing that the potion had done its job. Casting a pointed glance at a bookshelf in the corner of the room behind which he had heard several suspicious squeaking noises, he leaned over and whispered into Narcissa's ear for several long moments. Whatever he said caused her to nod her head in agreement, and after he was finished, she beckoned him down and whispered a few sentences in his ear that caused him to smile in grim satisfaction, bid her good night and leave the room quickly, nearly slamming the door on Wormtail as he tried to leave at the same time.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

All five of the inhabitants of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place picked at their food, each of them lost in his or her own thoughts of what was to occur that night. According to Lupin and backed up by Narcissa Malfoy, the moon would be in exactly the right phase that evening, and they all knew that if they were to make the attempt this month, they would have to do it then.

"Tell me again why Lucius Malfoy would have left such an obvious hole in the planning of his wards," Hermione said worriedly.

"The wards were not constructed by Malfoy himself," Lupin reminded them of what Narcissa Malfoy had said. "Apparently the original casters left the one-night gap in the wards intact for the purposes of servants bringing supplies into the Manor during times of war. Lucius Malfoy, advanced though he is in matters of flattery and the greasing palms, does not have magical skill advanced enough to raise wards on this level. Do keep in mind that, even though the wards can be breached on this night, there is still only a very small gap in which this may be done and it requires particular knowledge of the structure of the wards to pull it off without detection. It would be nearly impossible for someone without inside knowledge to make the breach even when the moon is in the right phase."

"But if they know we are going after the cup, won't they know exactly when we are going to do it?" Ron asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion as he always did when speaking of Narcissa's information.

"As far as we are aware, they don't know what we've been up to," Ginny pointed out.

"Right, as far as we're aware," Ron said sarcastically.

"Look, Ron," Harry said, becoming irritated in spite of his resolution not to get involved in spats between his girlfriend and best mate, "the truth of the matter is that we don't know, and that we can only hope. The fact is that we don't have a choice - we either go after it with the information we have or we don't go after it at all, and you know we don't have that option."

Ron's ears flushed pink, but he looked away and didn't say anything else. Harry wasn't sure if he was embarrassed or angry, but he wisely decided not to pursue the subject.

A brown barn owl soared through the window and onto the kitchen table at that very moment, a very small scroll of parchment tied to its legs with a leather thong. Lupin, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry stared at it for a moment before Lupin untied the small scroll, frowning curiously as he read the short note.

"It's from Narcissa," he told them. "She says she wants to come with us tonight."

"WHAT?" the four teens shouted in unison.

"She is not confident in our ability to slip undetected through the wards," Lupin continued. "She says that if she goes with us, she will be able to completely disarm them."

"And she's only just thought of this?" Ron asked suspiciously.

"Well," Hermione said, twisting a strand of her hair absently as she spoke, "Would she really offer to go with us if Voldemort knew what we were going to be doing? I mean to say, he can't be too happy with her, can he?"

"We have to look at it in terms of risk," Lupin said. "Which is riskier: letting her come along or going by ourselves?"

"I just wish we knew why she wanted to come," Ginny said ponderingly. "Hasn't she made it perfectly clear that she doesn't care what happens to us just so long as she gets revenge for Draco's death?"

"Yeah, she says that every time I talk to her," Harry admitted.

"Then why the sudden concern over whether or not we bring the wards down?" Hermione asked.

"She obviously wants us to get the cup as badly as we want to get it," Lupin said. "That much, at least, we know. All in all, I think it would be quite helpful to have her along."

"That also gives us some insurance," Ron said darkly. "If she's lying, she's just as buggered as we are, isn't she?"

"True," Harry said, for he knew well from his connection to Voldemort that she would not be forgiven for her betrayal no matter what she did to aid him in future.

After a few more minutes of discussion, it was agreed that Narcissa Malfoy could accompany them that night.

"And now," Lupin said, looking as pale and sickly as he had for the past weeks and months, "I suggest that we all go and have a rest. We have a big night tonight, and we need to be ready."

The teenagers, tired as they were from the late nights they had spent planning the raid and researching Ravenclaw's and Gryffindor's Horcruxes, really had no inclination to sleep in the middle of the day, but they made no argument. One look into Lupin's wan faced showed them just how much he needed the rest, and they knew he wouldn't get it if they didn't at least pretend to be doing the same thing.

Uneasily, Harry and the others agreed and trudged up the stairs to their rooms. Lupin did not comment when he saw Hermione and Ron duck into the girls' room and Harry and Ginny go into Harry's room; at this point, he was glad for any and all comfort they could give each other in these hard times, and he found himself missing Tonks with an almost physical ache as he lay on his bed alone and closed his eyes.

As Harry lay holding Ginny in his arms, feeling her head rise and fall on his chest with every breath he took, he could think of nothing other than the fact that he was, once again, leading his friends into danger. He could not bear the thought of anything happening to any one of them. As much as he wanted to, however, he could think of no other way to do this - and the only thing he was certain of at the moment was that they simply had to find and destroy Hufflepuff's cup. He couldn't kill Voldemort until they had destroyed all of the Horcruxes, and the Wizarding world would not know safety and peace until he had killed Voldemort.

Sighing deeply, he stared at the ceiling, remembering how he had done the same thing on Privet Drive after Sirius's death, counting backwards from one thousand along a small crack in the plaster. He only wished that he could still derive composure from such a simple act now.

He stroked Ginny's hair, reveling in its smoothness, and after softly kissing the top of her head, fell into a light, uneasy sleep.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

"The Lestranges will guard the cup until it can be safely removed," Voldemort said slowly, watching as Bellatrix and Rodolphus bowed their heads in assent, Bellatrix hiding her triumphant grin from Lucius Malfoy, with whom she had always competed for the status of Voldemort's most trusted follower. Her hidden smile vanished, however, when the Dark Lord issued his next statement. "I want that chalice in my hands as soon as possible," he said dangerously. "Do not fail me. I will be most...displeased...if this artifact is lost." His implication was clear: the Lestranges had been honored by receiving the most vital of assignments, but the result of failure would be severe punishment and possibly death.

Contrary to Lucius Malfoy's paranoid fears, Bellatrix Lestrange actually had no more idea of the true value of Hufflepuff's cup than he did. Voldemort would never have dreamed of releasing information that placed him in such a vulnerable position. He was not stupid; he knew that most of his followers would cheerfully attempt to take him down if they had even an inkling that they might be able to do so.

"Malfoy," he continued smoothly. "I place Narcissa in your hands until such time as I am ready to deal with her."

"And Potter?" Malfoy asked after bowing his head in assent.

"Potter and the rest are to be captured. Dolohov, Crabbe and Goyle will be at your disposal for this purpose, as well as others whom I will designate prior to your departure." Voldemort's gazed flicked quickly toward Wormtail as he said this, but as he did something flashed in his eyes, unnoticed by all but the woman to his right.

Bellatrix Lestrange had often wondered why the Dark Lord kept someone as useless as Peter Pettigrew within his ranks, and now, seeing the unrecognizable glimmer in his eyes, she wondered yet again. She knew better than to ask, however, and she held her peace while she waited for more instructions.

"If Wormtail's information is to be trusted," Voldemort continued, the threat in his voice bare and raw, "they will attempt to enter the Manor shortly after nightfall. Do not hinder them."

"My Lord, would it not be more expedient to..." Bellatrix began.

"Potter is to be allowed to handle the cup before his capture," Voldemort interrupted, ignoring the startled glances from his followers as he said this. "Any unusual reaction to it will be reported to me upon your return."

Bellatrix squinted as she pictured the scene. "He will be cornered," she said softly, clearly relishing the idea, "but what of his friends?"

"Potter, as usual, has failed to plan for the inevitable," Voldemort replied. "If our information is correct - " again, his gaze became momentarily fixed on Wormtail, who looked as nervous as he ever had " - Potter will arrive with only the three other children, Narcissa, and the werewolf. If I find that once again my Death Eaters have been overtaken by teenagers and half-breeds..." He let his voice trail off, but the threat was clear.

"Potter remains arrogant as he has always been," Lucius Malfoy mumbled, and then continued more loudly, "We will not be defeated."

"See that you succeed," Voldemort ordered once again, waving his hand in a gesture of dismissal.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

With a series of small 'pops,' Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Narcissa and Lupin Apparated onto the same spot from which Narcissa had disappeared so many months ago. Hidden from view in a small grove of trees to the east of the packed dirt road, the looked at one another with grim but determined expressions.

"We'll keep out of sight for as long as possible," Lupin reminded them in a whisper of what they had already discussed. This was the first time he had ever actually led Harry and his friends into a dangerous situation, and though he knew it was necessary, he felt the wait of responsibility for the four teenagers' lives crushing down upon his shoulders as they crept silently through the trees towards Malfoy Manor. "Narcissa, see that we do not trip the wards."

"Of course," Narcissa replied curtly.

They walked in silence for a few moments, Harry and Ginny's hands clasped tightly together.

"Stop here," Narcissa hissed. Looming in front of them, Malfoy Manor seemed as large as Hogwarts itself, though Harry knew it couldn't be so. It was not actually very different than what he had expected: an imposing structure built of stone surrounded by a garden which, though Harry could tell it had once been immaculately kept and quite impressive, had given in to weeds and untended grass which had turned an ugly and dead-looking shade of brown with the winter cold.

Narcissa, too, gazed upon her former home, but for a moment she did not see it in its current state. If she squinted her eyes hard enough, she could see Draco in the garden...practicing on his toy broom when he was only a small child...striding confidently up the walk on his way home from school holidays or an outing with a friend. She made a small choking sound which no one but Lupin heard, but he offered her no comfort. It wasn't that he didn't pity her; it was that he knew she would never want to be touched by any of them.

Pulling herself together, Narcissa pulled out her wand and swept it in a complicated motion through the air in front of her. It seemed as though nothing happened, but she nodded in grim satisfaction. "You may pass, but mind what I told you," she said curtly. "One false step and you will alert not only my husband, but likely the entire Auror squad as well."

"Why can't you just take them down?" Ron asked challengingly, though still in a whisper.

"Don't be an idiot," Narcissa scoffed. "The wards will grant me passage, but do you imagine even for a moment that Malfoy Manor would be guarded so weakly that only a simple incantation will render them useless? Use your head."

Even in the darkness, Harry knew that Ron's ears must be turning bright pink in anger and embarrassment, but to his credit, Ron didn't say another word. Remembering the exact strategy he and Lupin had planned, he backed up to the rear of the group.

"Right," Lupin whispered. "Everything looks calm so far. I will take the lead, followed by Narcissa. The rest of you, stay in tight formation just as we practiced and keep your eyes open."

Slowly and cautiously, the group advanced through the small gap in the wards, breathing a small sigh of relief when they finally entered Malfoy Manor through the back door.

Harry looked around, curious in spite of himself to see the home that his school nemesis had bragged about so freely. Every detail spoke of opulence, from the hand-painted portraits which looked at him disdainfully from the walls but did not move, to the molding along the ceilings, to the smoothly varnished wood floors and the priceless Persian carpets. Harry was not surprised by any of these details; knowing that the Malfoys were some of the richest people in the Wizarding world, he would have expected nothing less.

What surprised Harry were actually some of the smaller details of the house, the knickknacks and photographs on the end tables and kitchen countertops. This house was somehow warmer than he would have imagined it being, and since he knew that neither Lucius nor Draco were very sentimental, he flicked his gaze to Narcissa, who was taking it in with a bleak expression on her face.

"Which way?" Harry asked.

"It was kept in a small room under my husband's library," Narcissa answered flatly, and she turned down a side corridor, leading them silently through the halls. Not a whisper of sound was heard other than their soft footfalls along the dark green runner carpet in the corridor, and at first, Harry was simply relieved that their visit seemed to have gone undetected.

After Narcissa had turned another corner, however, his skin began to prickle in anticipation. For a moment, he could not put his finger upon the source of this new anxiety, but then he glanced at the walls again and he realized exactly what was wrong.

None of the portraits were moving.

In Harry's experience, magical portraits were exceedingly nosy, moving from frame to frame to follow the progress of gossip from room to room, asking questions of the people who passed them and making comments about all and sundry without much regard for propriety or, indeed privacy.

So why were these portraits silent? Why were they so completely still other than the small shift of their eyes as they watched the newcomers proceed cautiously down the hall.

"Moony," Harry said. "I don't like this."

"I know, Harry," Lupin replied worriedly. "Something doesn't feel right to me, either." He, too, had noticed the strange stillness of the portraits. "What do you want to do?"

"Here is the library," Narcissa whispered, stopping in front of a door carved of heavy oak and adorned with iron trimming.

Harry exchanged a glance with Lupin and then with each of the others in turn. Hermione looked positively terrified. Ron, however, nodded at Harry firmly, silently affirming that they must now go and do what they had come to do, and Ginny smiled a small smile of encouragement.

"Let's go," Harry said, his jaw set firmly as he tried to assure himself that perhaps the portraits in Malfoy Manor were simply more reticent than the ones at Hogwarts. He pushed the door open, his wand drawn and ready, his thumb on the wooden band of the Order of the Phoenix.

Silence greeted him, and he breathed a small sigh of relief as the others entered the room behind him. He had half expected to be greeted by Lucius Malfoy or even Voldemort himself. Searching the floor, he saw the small silk rug that Narcissa had told him concealed the trap door. Striding forward with more confidence than he felt, he pushed the rug aside with his foot and bent to pull the inset iron ring.

"Hurry, Harry," Hermione urged, able to keep silent no longer.

"There is no one present," Narcissa said, repeating verbatim part of what Snape had whispered to her two days previously. "Lucius would tolerate no passages into or out of this room. He values his privacy." This was not strictly true, but as it was what Snape had told her while she was under the influence of the Gullibility Potion, it had replaced the information she knew to be correct. Her gaze did not even flicker towards the dark tapestry on the far wall.

Pulling the trapdoor open, Harry felt the presence of Narcissa, Moony and his friends behind him as he peered into a small, dark chamber only three or four feet below the floor.

"Here goes," Harry said, climbing down and lighting his wand tip so he could see.

The room was tiny, really no more than a crawl-space, and Harry looked around carefully, glad to see that there was no possible place for anyone to hide.

He saw the cup, golden and bejeweled, more splendid than he had imagined, standing alone on a small table in the darkest corner of the space.

"I found it," he called up quietly.

Narcissa Malfoy's voice, as cool and flat as it ever was, came down to him. "Mind yourself," she said. "It will not be taken easily."

Harry squinted into the darkness. He could see no barriers to simply reaching out and taking the cup from the table, but he knew from hard experience that some of the most impenetrable barriers were invisible to the naked eye.

"Do you need help, Harry?" Lupin asked.

"No, thanks," Harry said, striding forward.

There was nothing for it; his only option was to reach out and take it - even Narcissa was unaware of what kinds of hexes or jinxes might have been protecting the cup. Screwing up his eyes in concentration, Harry used his wand arm to conjure his translucent golden shield in front of himself before he extended his free and grasped the cup.

For a moment, it seemed as though whatever spell that had been cast to protect the cup had quite worn off, but only for a moment. Harry had no sooner tried to pull the cup from the table when an unendurable pain shot from his fingertips up his arm, and he yelled involuntarily.

"Harry!" he heard Ginny cry in alarm from above him...far, far above him, it seemed.

He looked at his hand and his jaw dropped in disbelief as he pulled with all his might. The skin of his fingers was being slashed as though with an invisible knife, new gashes appearing at an alarming rate. As one slashed upwards along the inside of his wrist, he suddenly felt weak as blood spurted from the wound and hit the wall behind him.

Knowing that he did not have long before his strength completely left him, Harry gave one last, mighty wrench, and stumbled backwards as the cup was wrenched free from the surrounding hexes.

His last thought before he faded into blackness was that the cup felt alive in his hands, just as the locket had.

"I wonder...why..." he mumbled, and closed his eyes as he fell forward into the warm stickiness of his own blood, pooled on the floor.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

Bellatrix only barely restrained herself from leaping out from behind the tapestry concealing the passageway between the library and the master suite of the Manor. Instead, she contented herself with a silent and sinister smile of satisfaction when she heard Potter's yell of pain. As anxious as she was to spend some time with Potter and his friends, she knew her instructions.

Crowded into the small passage with Rodolphus and the others, Bellatrix continued to smile in anticipation. She had the pleasurable and important assignment of taking the cup from Potter and bringing the boy himself before the Dark Lord, and she knew that once she had succeeded, there would be none who could rival her position as his closest and most trusted follower.

Drawing her wand, she waited for the signal from Lucius Malfoy, who was waiting for everyone to become occupied in treating Harry. When he could tell from the bustle on the other side of the tapestry that the boy was being pulled from the crawlspace below the floor, he held up his hand.

The distant sound of a clock was the only thing that could be heard in the split second before the attack, but as the Death Eaters donned their masks and rushed from the passageway and into the library, the sound of the chimes was drowned out by the sounds of war.