The Man of the Moment

Chapter Twenty-Three: You Need Faith

"Why didn't you just kill him there and then?"

"Because the Dark Lord wishes to do it himself!"

"But, Lucius, he's sort of busy with that Snape girl..."

"I'm sure he'll make time, Nott!"

"Whatever you say, Lucius. You know best, after all." This voice had an edge of sarcasm to it.

Harry opened his eyes, and saw lit torches flit past him at regular intervals. Within a few moments, he noticed a sharp pain spreading through his back, and he realised he was being dragged across the floor of a particularly narrow passageway, possibly in a dungeon. He tried to move his head, but he quickly came to the conclusion that he couldn't. He was also acutely aware that somebody was dragging him along the floor with the use of a spell, for he could feel no hands on his body.

"He's awake, Lucius," Nott replied, casually. "Do you think we ought to tell him?"

Lucius appeared to ponder this for a moment.

"No," he said, finally.

"Fine," Nott replied. "Potter- you're under a full body-bind, so as I'm sure you've already worked out, escape is pretty futile."

Harry tried to spit out a retort, but found his lips wouldn't move.

"Please, don't worry about replying," Nott added, offhandedly. "I'll just assume you heard me."

"Nott, didn't you hear a word I said?" Lucius spat. "I said no. That meant 'no' to telling him anything!"

"Yeah, I heard you," Nott replied. "I just chose to ignore you."

"You'd do well to heed my orders, Nott," Lucius snarled. Nott snorted loudly.

"Why? The last time I listened to your orders when we chanced upon Potter in the Department of Mysteries, I ended up in Azkaban," he replied, somewhat blithely. Harry felt the tug of the spell dragging him across the floor intensify, and he soon figured out that it was Malfoy that was in control of his movement.

"Temper, temper," Nott goaded, which caused Malfoy to stop for a moment. Harry briefly considered trying to counteract the body-bind he was under, but he was swiftly dragged down a particularly steep- and painful- flight of stairs. Harry winced- well, he would have done, were his facial muscles responding to the request of his brain- as his head smacked against the stone steps as though it was the first prize in the Gloucestershire Annual Cheese-Rolling and Wake [1].

"How's the family?" Nott asked, bizarrely, as Harry's head continued to hit the stone steps at increasingly regular intervals. He heard Malfoy cough quietly.

"Oh, fine, fine... I'm a bit concerned about Draco, though- I need to tell him about Severus, and I don't think he's going to take it very well."

"Why not?"

"He rather likes the man- mind you, so did I up until a few months ago..."

Nott laughed gruffly.

"I still can't believe it; he had us all fooled, didn't he? Wily old sod..."

"It isn't a laughing matter!" Lucius retorted, hotly. "He's a traitor!"

"Well, he may be a traitor, but he's got guts, you've got to give him that," Nott commented, smoothly.

Suddenly, Harry felt a searing pain spread across his forehead from his scar, and he tried to wince. The full body-bind he was under prevented such an expression from showing, for which Harry was grateful. He tried to clear his mind of all thoughts- which wasn't the easiest thing when your head was banging against a hard surface as though you were carrion being dragged across the Serengeti by a lioness- but all he could hear was a song. A young woman was singing as though her life depended on it. The words were in French, or some such language, and occasionally were peppered with a familiar cold voice.

"Freré Jacques..."

"What do you know?"

"Freré Jacques..."

"He will come to me; I know how he works..."

"Dormez-vous...?"

"Speak, damn you!"

"Dormez-vous...?"

A pale hand lifted a wand and cast what looked like Harry to be the Imperius Curse.

"Open your mind to me..."

"Fils à Putain!"

"Very well, if you won't respond to Imperius, respond to this..."

With a sudden jolt, Harry realised the young woman was Persephone, and that she had just been hit with the Cruciatus Curse. For a moment, all he could see was blood splattered across the stone floor of that tiny room, and he just knew that it wasn't Voldemort's. There was something else- a tooth, maybe? Harry couldn't tell. He tried hard to erase the whole scene from his mind, to move far away from this vision, but he soon found himself looking down upon Persephone's face; her mouth was oddly swollen and she occasionally spat out gobfuls of blood. Harry saw her left hand briefly; the fingers were jutting out at odd angles from her hand. Despite this, she looked defiant- almost insane with anger, and in a way, appeared to be mocking Voldemort. She began to laugh, and then, she began to sing once again...

The noise of a heavy iron door swinging open with the flick of a wand brought Harry back to his present situation. He found himself unceremoniously thrown across the floor, and landing in an ungainly heap in a corner of the room. Looking up, Harry couldn't see a great deal, for it was much too dark.

"Lumos," Malfoy commanded, and Harry tried to screw his eyes up against the bright light, but without much luck.

"Move him," Malfoy ordered, clicking his fingers in Harry's direction, and Harry felt two burly men lift him up into a standing position. He looked as far across as he could, and, somewhere in the peripheral vision of his left eye, he spotted that sturdy iron door he had been thrown through shut solidly. He also heard a familiar voice.

"There is nothing I can tell you, it is the way of Buddha," the voice replied, calmly. It was definitely Gyaltsen, his wandless magic tutor.

"If you taught her, they you'll know how to break her, won't you?" a voice Harry recognised as belonging to one of the Lestrange brothers hissed.

"Only Persephone can tell you that," Gyaltsen explained, sagely. "Your enemies are your greatest blessing, for to know your enemy is to know your own weakness..."

"Shut up!" Lestrange yelled, throwing something across the room that hit a metallic boiler near the far wall with an angry crash.

"Rodolphus, do calm down," Lucius drawled, as a small gush of steam was expelled from a nearby pipe.

"He's been doing this all bloody night!" Rodolphus spat. "Can't I just kill him?"

"Not yet," Lucius replied, as though chastising a small child. "That girl has been giving the Dark Lord trouble from the moment we brought her here. This monk may provide us with some... assistance."

"Well, why hasn't he just used the Imperius curse? That usually works," Nott replied, sarcastically.

"Because the girl appears to be fighting it," Malfoy replied, in cutting tones. "It's possible she's an Occlumens, too..."

"I'd imagine so, if she can fight the Imperius curse," Rodolphus pointed out. Nott began to laugh.

"And you reckoned you'd killed her," he said, between sniggers.

"I did," Malfoy replied, in a dangerously low voice. "I killed her seven years ago."

"Death is merely the continuation of the cycle of life; the path to Enlightenment," Gyaltsen stated, without so much as a struggle against his heavy chain bonds.

"Are you alright, Lama?" Harry asked. This wasn't fair- since when had Gyaltsen caused any trouble? Harry sincerely hoped nothing had happened to the wise old man. He wanted to, he needed to just check that he was okay...

"I am fine, Harry- you had better sit down," Gyaltsen replied, evenly, before smiling kindly at Harry. Malfoy gripped Harry's shoulder with one hand and thrust a wand into his chest with the other.

"Sit down, Potter," he snarled, before turning to the small group of masked Death Eaters nearby.

"I told you to leave him be, Nott- why did you free him from the Full-Body Bind?" he asked, impatiently.

"I didn't," Nott replied, simply. Harry looked at Malfoy, and through the slits of his mask, Harry could see Malfoy's eyes. He seemed most perturbed.

"Well, somebody did!" he yelled, looking across the room for a suitable person to blame. Nobody seemed very forthcoming in that department, but Malfoy soon found himself a scapegoat.

"You," he snarled at Gyaltsen, whose expression did not change even a flicker.

"You did this, didn't you?" he yelled. Gyaltsen simply looked at him passively.

"I am chained up to this wall; how could I possibly have done anything?" he questioned. Malfoy just glared back at him.

"You teach wandless magic- of course you could have done it!"

"Well, I would advise you to come up with a more suitable method of restraint for me," Gyaltsen replied, in his same passive, even tones, and without a trace of sarcasm. Malfoy's eyes didn't leave Gyaltsen's, and instead he clicked his fingers as though beckoning a dog.

"Goyle; you know what to do," he drawled, threateningly.

"Do I?" a plaintive voice called out.

"Yes, you do," Malfoy reiterated, in dangerous tones. The heavy door creaked open, and it seemed that Goyle suddenly knew exactly what it was he needed to do.

"You'll see, monk. There's more than one way to skin a Kneazle," Malfoy muttered.

Harry remained silent, dreading what was to come. He knew that Gyaltsen hadn't done anything at all. Somehow, Harry had managed to break free on his own. Perhaps being under the Full Body Bind was similar to being under Imperius- he knew he could fight that, after all.

"What's he going to do?" Harry whispered to Gyaltsen, once he was confident that none of the Death Eaters present were paying much attention. Gyaltsen smiled.

"I'd imagine, if they have any sense, that they will be bringing a troop of vampires to guard us..."

"A troop of vampires!" Harry exclaimed, albeit quietly.

"Well, I am afraid I am uncertain of the correct collective noun," Gyaltsen admitted, but Harry shook his head.

"I meant... Why vampires? Why are they helping?" he whispered.

"Vampires are immune to magic, so we would be helpless in their hands. I am afraid I cannot answer your second question, though," Gyaltsen replied, quietly.

"What could they gain from an allegiance with Voldemort?" Harry wondered out loud, and it was this that attracted the attention of the remaining Death Eaters.

"How dare you say the Dark Lord's name, impudent boy!" Rodolphus spat, angrily, pulling out his wand. Harry couldn't help it, and smirked.

"Quite easily- Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort!" he sang, loudly, and Rodolphus practically lunged at him in fury. Harry felt a sharp pain in his upper jaw, and then wetness- for a brief moment, he thought he had started crying without realising it. He managed to wipe away at his cheek, and noticed the back of his hand was stained with red.

Rodolphus grabbed Harry by the throat and lifted him up to his height, pinning him to the wall as he did so.

"Don't you ever, ever say the Dark Lord's name again, you filthy little half-blood!" he growled, spittle from his lips hitting Harry's glasses as he did so.

"Oh, Rodolphus, leave the kid alone," Nott drawled, lazily. "The Dark Lord is going to rip out his intestines most likely, anyway. You don't want to prepare him for that, do you?"

"A little more pain never did any damage," Rodolphus retorted, his hand still gripping Harry's neck. Nott shrugged.

"I always thought the whole point of torture was the anticipation, rather than the actual pain," he mused.

"Just shackle him up and have done with it," Malfoy ordered, impatiently. "The Dark Lord can see to him."

Rodolphus merely nodded, and Harry quickly found himself inhaling desperately as he let go of his throat. Within seconds, however, Harry found himself pressed against the stone wall as Rodolphus conjured a series of heavy black iron chains to hold him in place. Rodolphus then muttered another incantation that Harry had never heard before. He soon found out what it did, though, as he struggled against his bonds and felt a sharp jolt flood his body- it was as though he had been electrocuted.

"Just a little something extra to keep you from playing up," Rodolphus said, with a snort.

Nott lifted up the sleeve of his robes momentarily.

"He's taking his time, isn't he?" he commented. Nobody appeared to answer him, so he continued. "I mean, she should have cracked by now, surely? The Dark Lord must have moved onto physical torture if Imperius isn't working. I know I'd crack under the stuff he can do..."

"Maybe the Dark Lord is going to Cruciate her into madness? She might at least stop resisting his questions then," a gruff voice whom Harry was sure belonged to Crabbe senior added.

"Yeah, but she won't be able to answer his questions, either- I tried that one on the Longbottoms. What a waste of time that turned out to be," Rodolphus laughed, harshly, and Harry bunched up his fists in anger- which caused yet another electric shock to pulse through his body.

"Painful, isn't it, boy?" Rodolphus commented, nastily, glaring at Harry. "The Condemnation hex. I must say I'm rather proud of it- and it'll keep you from wriggling out from our grasp again!"

Harry didn't so much as grunt a reply, but he was starting to worry. He couldn't see any way out of their current situation, and once Goyle returned with those vampires Gyaltsen seemed certain he would bring, they were even worse off. Not even magic would save them.

"I wonder who the mother is?" Nott mused.

"What are you on about?" Malfoy spat.

"That girl. Severus's kid- I wonder who the mother is?" Nott reiterated. Rodolphus smirked.

"Who cares? She'll be dead soon; hopefully having passed on a little useful information before she croaks. He'll come running after her, just as the Dark Lord said he would, and then he'll be dead too."

"And to think, you used to be such good friends," Malfoy drawled. Rodolphus spun round to face him.

"So were you! It's less that he deserves, for what he's done," he spat, viciously, before tracing a finger across his throat. "That's what you get for betraying the Dark Lord!"

"I reckon it was Bella," Nott continued, apparently oblivious to the surrounding conversation.

"What?" Malfoy asked, sounding rather amused by the suggestion.

"What?" Rodolphus snarled, sounding much less amused by Nott's words.

"They were pretty close friends in our teen years; and judging by my calculations, Severus would have had to be around fifteen... Wow," Nott said, finally. "I didn't even know you could get people pregnant at fifteen!"

"They were just friends," Rodolphus replied, hotly, but not without uncertainty. Nott snorted.

"Try that again with even less conviction, why don't you?" he suggested, coolly.

"If the girl who you fancied had taken him to a family wedding instead of you, you'd have your doubts," Rodolphus replied, at which Malfoy began to chuckle.

"Honestly, Rodolphus, she was sixteen- she was playing hard to get!" he replied, sagely.

"You're so easy to wind up," Nott laughed. Rodolphus ignored him, and instead whirled around to face Malfoy.

"How do you know she was playing hard to get?" he asked.

"Severus told me as much at my wedding; he seemed to find the whole idea of playing such games rather bizarre. How very typical of him, as honest as the day is long, he really..." Malfoy trailed off. "Just goes to show how little you can know someone, however close you thought you might be," he said, finally, and Harry thought his voice sounded quite odd.

"Have you told Bella?" Nott asked, quietly. Malfoy shook his head.

"I've tried, but she refuses to believe me," he replied. "She keeps saying it's a phase, that he's probably just got mixed up with the wrong people- or the wrong woman. I said when I spoke to him, it seemed a bit more long-term than that, but she's having none of it. Reckons he'll change; that she just needs to talk him round- begged me not to tell the Dark Lord, even. She claimed she could turn him around before it needed to come to that. She's completely in denial."

"She keeps talking about him in her sleep," Rodolphus said, in a voice laced with hatred. "Keeps telling him how much she cares, and how she'll happily forgive him..."

"They were really close friends at school, though," Nott added. "With good reason- he was the only guy that didn't try it on with her, from what I heard. Thick as thieves, they were- she adored him. Remember when you told me about that time the two of them cooked up that homework scheme?"

Rodolphus seemed to come around from his initial anger, for he began to chuckle.

"Oh yes, I remember," he replied, fondly.

"Homework scheme?" Malfoy queried.

"I think some of the Year Six students had been trying to bully Severus into doing their Potions and Defence homework for them after his O.W.L.S. were over. Now, you know Severus isn't exactly the type to take that kind of thing lying down, so he and Bellatrix began writing essays and selling them to the hapless Sixth years," Rodolphus explained. "Three Galleons per foot of parchment, I think the going rate was."

"Hapless?" Malfoy asked. Rodolphus sniggered.

"Hapless indeed," he replied, "because the idiots didn't once think to check the work they had been given. At least five of them handed essays in for Defence Against the Dark Arse, which gave factual examples of why Professor Drake was a danger to the welfare of the Slytherin students whose house he was head of. Believe me, those essays were not referring to his rumoured shady past as a Brethrenite."

"And the Potions essays were identical, so the three students that bought those were done for copying by Professor Elliot," Crabbe added.

"Severus and Bella were around eighty-seven Galleons better off at the end of that term, and the ripped-off students couldn't even get their own back, because they both blackmailed them into keeping quiet. They threatened to tell Professor Drake how they had been forced against their will to do the work of the sixth years, and to write all those horrible things about him," Rodolphus finished, before laughing fondly.

"Oh, please stop it!" Harry begged, whilst trying to mask his amusement. "Just get Voldemort to kill me now- I don't think I can take much more of this nostalgia!" He was aware of the rich sarcasm that had darkened his voice, and from the way Malfoy turned slowly around to face him, he had been aware of it, too.

"You are hardly in a position to issue demands, Potter," he sneered, brandishing his wand, but somebody beat him to it, for Harry was quickly engulfed in a searing pain, the like of which he had only experienced three times before. Once was at the hands of Faith Hamilton, once at the hands of Voldemort, and once from Bellatrix Lestrange. This time, however, the Crutiatus curse seemed to rip through his scar and along his spine more intensely that he could remember- for a moment, he thought he might just collapse from the torturous pulsing that flooded his entire body. Once the pain subsided, Harry realised that the pain of the curse had caused him to thrash against his bonds, which had shocked his body into submission in tandem with the Condemnation hex.

"Crucio," he heard a voice in the distance call, and through the renewed agony, Harry was able to make it out as belonging to Nott.

"What did you do that for?" Gyaltsen asked, a little more harshly than Harry had heard him speak before.

"I got bored," Nott replied, lazily.

"It is not the way to Enlightenment to act first, and think later," Gyaltsen pointed out.

"We don't care!" Rodolphus hissed, furiously, and pointed his wand at him.

"Crucio!" he bellowed, and a jet of greenish light travelled towards Gyaltsen's chest, who did nothing but blink carefully for a moment. The spell halted in mid-air, and then reflected back at Rodolphus, who writhed in agony under his own Cruciatius spell. It took all of Harry's mental powers of restraint not to laugh out loud.

"What did you do to him?" Malfoy roared.

"I did nothing to him- I believe the term you are looking for is 'Karma'," Gyaltsen replied, sagely. Malfoy brandished his wand furiously, but was apparently quickly distracted by what appeared to be an excruciatingly painful itch on the forearm of his left arm.

"We're wanted," Nott pointed out in hissing tones, rubbing his arm vigorously as though to soothe an inflamed muscle. The pitter-patter of light-footed people embedded itself into Harry's brain. Someone, or rather, someones were coming closer.

"Do you think that girl's giving the Dark Lord that much trouble?" Rodolphus asked, rubbing his left forearm in much the same way as Malfoy, who shrugged.

"Either that, or the werewolf needs further restraint," he replied. "We were lucky that Potter here was too dense to notice Nott's sudden scarring when he was under Polyjuice. Dolohov spotted that damnable werewolf cutting words into his neck with a shard of glass, but not nearly as soon as he should have."

Harry felt his stomach lurch uncomfortably; it was clear they were talking about Lupin, and not for the first time, he cursed his lack of logic at times. This was probably one of the reasons he had been friends with Hermione for so long- she had that sort of skill in spades.

"It's a pity I've yet to obtain some of it for myself," he thought wryly.

"Hey, lads- the cavalry's arrived," Nott jeered, as around ten pale, waxy looking people entered the room, followed by a big man in a white mask and black robes that could only be Goyle. One of the people- a tall man with curly dark hair- turned towards Nott and hissed at him, bearing a row of unnaturally sharp teeth.

"Well, if you five can't handle a boy and a pensioner..." He left the statement hanging for maximum effect.

"Bite me," Nott retorted. The man looked at him, and laughed derisively.

"Be careful what you wish for," he drawled, licking his lips deliberately.

"Let's just go," Malfoy ordered. "Now, you know the drill..."

"If zey try to escape, eat zem," a smaller, white-blonde woman replied, through blood-red lips.

"That's good enough for us," Rodolphus stated, before exiting the dark stone walled room, followed by Nott, Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy moved to leave as well, but he stopped, and gestured towards the dark-haired vampire, who he had clearly decided was the spokesperson of the group.

"Remember, don't kill them until the Dark Lord says so. I suspect he'll want to do it himself," he warned. The vampire gave him a mock salute.

"Of course- but I doubt he'd deny us a little taste if they get... unruly. There's nothing quite like wizarding blood, you know," he replied. Malfoy stepped carefully away from the vampire and briskly exited the room without another word. Harry assumed that Malfoy's own recent encounter with Augustine Docherty had unnerved him somewhat.

The group of vampires moved elegantly across the room, and swiftly surrounded both Harry and Gyaltsen. Harry tried not to gulp in fear- he knew from what he had seen of Augustine's lack of damage at the hands of Death Eaters during their sojourn to 1977, that he was pretty much powerless to fight these vampires. Augustine's body had simply absorbed spells as though he were some kind of magical sponge, which was good if you had a vampire as an ally in such a situation. When the vampires are your enemy... well, Harry didn't really want to think about it.

"Well, well, well," the curly, dark-haired vampire jeered. "It's 'The Boy Who Lived', eh? Tell me, boy, how does it feel to finally be 'The Boy Who Died'?"

The rest of the vampires howled with laughter, and Harry, despite the peril he was in, couldn't help but think that Augustine's sense of humour was sadly lacking in the rest of the vampire world.

"How does it feel to be the worst comedian on the planet?" Harry spat back, which resulted in numerous catcalls from the surrounding vampires.

"So, the boy's got a spine?" the dark-haired vampire goaded.

"Doesn't matter much," the blonde replied, in husky tones that sounded a little French to Harry's ears. "All I care about is whezzer 'e bleeds."

"Catalina, are you always thinking with your stomach?" a shorter man with greying hair commented, contemptuously. Catalina shrugged effortlessly, and this further confirmed Harry's initial suspicious that she was- or rather, had been- a Frenchwoman.

"Jan, Jan; you are so dull at times!" she exclaimed. "So what eef we 'ave to guard zem? It will not 'urt to 'ave a leetle neeble..."

At this point, Catalina leant more closely to Harry, her lack of breath unsettling him somewhat. He looked down and saw her tongue flick out over her lips, and soon felt it run along his neck. It was cold and damp, and he shivered at the touch.

"You are scared, aren't you?" she whispered, and Harry saw a pair of vicious looking fangs jut out over her bottom lip.

"Why should I be scared of a corpse?" Harry retorted, angrily. Catalina hissed at him, and she grabbed his throat with her left hand.

"Because I could snap you in two wiz my leetle finger, insolent boy!" she snarled, but the dark-haired man intervened by grabbing her wrist roughly, causing her to yelp in pain.

"Romano!" she protested, but the steely look in the man's eye suggested he was having none of it.

"Leave him," he ordered, his wild bloodshot eyes glinting oddly. Catalina looked suitably cowed, and stepped away from Harry.

"You just won't leave the boys alone, will you?" Jan mocked. Catalina turned and looked at him.

"Well, 'e is young," she replied, without a trace of remorse. "What would you razzer 'ave, eh? Mutton, or ze lamb?"

"Quod cibws est aliis, aliis est wenenum," Jan replied, evenly, and Harry was at an utter loss as to what he meant.

"Typical- you have to try and assert your authority by proving your ancient age," a gangly, brown-haired young woman tutted.

"I've been around a lot longer than you, Amanda- I remember when all of this Fair Isle was under Roman rule!" he announced, haughtily.

Amanda took off her thick-rimmed glasses and polished them needlessly against her jumper, apparently ignoring Jan's protestations. "It's a standard attempt to cover up your own inadequacies, except it merely accentuates your inadequacies," she explained. "Everybody knows you died in 1902; in fact, I'm also fairly certain Jan is not short for Jamanicus, as you keep insisting..."

"I am Jamanicus Carus, and I refuse to be spoken to in such a manner by a former Psychology student from Epping Forest!" Jan interrupted, angrily. Amanda shrugged.

"John Carr, more like," she muttered, under her breath.

"Shut up!" Romano roared, and the crowd fell instantly silent. "We are not here to eat! We are here to ensure these two pitiful wizards are delivered into the Dark Lord's hands."

"If we're so pitiful, why does it take ten of you to baby-sit us?" Harry asked, aggressively. Romano raised a thick black eyebrow at him, his facial expression an ugly mix of incredulity and fury.

"You dare to question me?" he asked, coldly. "I could rip your throat out in a heartbeat, boy!"

"Shall we test zat theory, Romano?" Catalina purred.

"You really should have eaten before we left," Amanda pointed out. Catalina looked askance at her.

"I cannot 'elp eet; I 'ave to eat every four hours, ozzerwise I get all faint," she complained.

"So does Regina," Amanda retorted, coolly. "Why don't you do what she does? She carries a small rat in her handbag for a quick snack; wards off those hunger pangs."

Catalina snorted, but made no response.

"No, that would mean you couldn't kick up a fuss," Amanda muttered, and for a brief moment, Harry was unnervingly reminded of Hermione.

"If you are supposed to be guarding us, you should know that there is precious little we can do up here," Gyaltsen pointed out, genially. "You should have enough of you here to let one of you out to find food."

"Oh, yes, and let you escape whilst we're at it? Capital plan, that," Amanda hissed.

"We all stay here," Romano commanded. "Now, check the exit and make sure there's nothing around that our two little wandless magic friends might find useful!"

"What do we do now?" Harry whispered to Gyaltsen, as the vampires dispersed around the damp, dark room, attempting to eliminate any possible escape routes.

"Well, they appear to be wasting their time looking for alternative exits," Gyaltsen explained.

"Why are they wasting their time?" Harry asked.

"Because there aren't any," he replied, calmly.

"Great- so our only way out is through that door?" Harry asked, jerking his head towards the heavy iron door that was currently being guarded by two burly looking vampires. Sadly, the act of moving his head in a gesture triggered Rodolphus' curse, and Harry felt that overwhelming sensation of being electrocuted.

"I would advise you don't move your head so," Gyaltsen commented.

"Thanks for the reminder," Harry replied, somewhat sarcastically, once the curse had abated. Gyaltsen chuckled.

"Please- if you wish to reduce your pain, reduce your movement," he explained. "You broke free from that Binding curse by thinking about it, not by moving."

Harry stared at him.

"You mean, you knew I did that?" he asked. He had assumed he had ceased the spell somehow, but he didn't realise it had been obvious to Gyaltsen, too.

"You are more powerful than you think, Harry," Gyaltsen replied. "You are already showing signs of using your mind to manoeuvre your powers- something Persephone didn't begin to show in a controlled manner until last year..."

Harry felt himself flush with pride at Gyaltsen's words; which soon changed to a flush of embarrassment, when he realised Gyaltsen was suggesting he tried to break free of Rodolphus' curse.

"You have plenty of time- they are still searching for something they will never find," Gyaltsen said.

"What, a pulse?" Harry joked, and Gyaltsen chuckled softly.

"I am supposed to be respectful of all creatures- you are a danger to my aura, young man," he scolded, gently, though from the smile on his face, Harry assumed Gyaltsen didn't mind Harry being such a danger.

Harry began to concentrate hard on being able to move freely- on not having some stupid curse preventing him from so much as nodding his head. He thought about calm blue oceans, trickling waterfalls, and all manner of water-related landscapes that were useful in clearing the mind of distractions and emotions.

"...This building is definitely of Tudor origin- that means there's a possibility of hidden passageways; they were often used by escaping Protestants or Catholics, depending on the religious climate of the time," Amanda babbled to herself, and once again, Harry couldn't help but think of Hermione on one of her explanations fresh from 'Hogwarts; A History', or perhaps a little diatribe about objects of faith, as she had done in Persephone's Defence Against the Dark Arts class just the other year. He thought of how much he wanted to see her and Ron again. Not to mention Ginny, Neville and Luna, too. He thought of Persephone, and how, if he could get out of here, he could help her...

"Don't mention religion!" Romano snarled, and Amanda ducked her head as though expecting an attack.

Suddenly, Harry felt metaphorical cogs in his head click into place.

"Lama Gyaltsen, that's a title, isn't it?" Harry asked, now he found that moving his head no longer caused a few hundred volts to course through him. Gyaltsen nodded.

"It is a title, yes, but one achieved through peace, not war," he explained. "A Lama is one who teaches and guides you in finding the path to spiritual enlightenment; often, we are believed to be incarnations..."

"So, you are a high ranking holy man?" Harry encouraged. Gyaltsen nodded.

"I suppose to you, I am a priest," he explained, kindly.

"I don't suppose there is any way you could get down from those shackles and near to that boiler?" Harry asked. Gyaltsen frowned in thought.

"Hmm, I could try... Have you got a plan?" he asked. Harry nodded.

"I think so," he replied. Gyaltsen appeared to think even more, for his brow furrowed suddenly.

"I'll have to persuade them into letting me down, one way or another. It might take a while, though- and I would need you not to interrupt, however dangerous you think my situation might be... What do you want me to do when I'm freed from these chains?" he asked.

"I want you to bless that boiler in the far corner of the room," Harry replied. Gyaltsen stared at him.

"Bless the boiler?" he asked, incredulously. Harry nodded.

"All right, if that is what you wish," Gyaltsen said, though it was clear he did was bewildered by Harry's request.

The rest of the vampires appeared to have finished their checks by now, for they were advancing upon Harry and Gyaltsen once more.

"Now then," Romano sneered, "what are we going to do to pass the time?" He prodded Harry in the chest with a long-nailed finger.

"How about a game of chess?" Amanda suggested, hopefully. Jan looked askance at her.

"You really haven't grasped the concept of vampirism, have you?" he commented. Amanda shrugged.

"It's only been a few months," she conceded. Jan turned around and glanced at one of the other vampires.

"Why exactly did you think it would be a good idea to turn her?" he asked, coolly.

"I figured our group could benefit from a few more brains," the blonde man replied. "Plus, I like girls in glasses."

Amanda looked as though she would blush furiously, had she the blood to spare.

"Indeed," Gyaltsen mused. "What does one do when they have violated the most important of all cosmic laws, and tainted themselves in the process? Parasitise upon those who are still pure..."

These words appeared to have struck a nerve, for Romano had slowly turned around, and was stalking towards Gyaltsen.

"How dare you!" he hissed. "Tainted? We are superior- we have the strength of five men; the grace of panthers and not even magic can touch us. The Dark Lord sees this, and he rewards us appropriately for our worth. He urges us to fight those that oppress us; we will be victorious, whereas you..."

"I do not fight; unless the preservation of peace requires it," Gyaltsen countered. Romano's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Then, allow me to give you an infinite number of reasons," he taunted, reaching up to Gyaltsen's heavy iron bonds and snapping them in two with his bare hands. Gyaltsen fell to the floor, but somehow managed to land on his feet. The two heavily built vampires that swiftly pinned him to the floor ruined that original picture of elegance, however.

"Now then," one of them sneered, "what exactly do you think you're playing at? Didn't anybody ever teach you that insulting your captors is a very stupid thing to do indeed?" He pressed down upon Gyaltsen's neck, to the point where Harry was deeply worried that the Lama could not breathe.

"We're going to kill you anyway," the other vampire taunted. "You and the boy are going to die tonight..."

"Then I must continue to show my respect and kindness to all living creatures before that time comes," Gyaltsen explained, through a strained voice.

"All living creatures?" Romano fumed. "Don't you ever learn to respect your predators?"

With those words, one of the vampires restraining a tolerating Gyaltsen kicked him sharply in the ribs. Harry winced as he thought he heard something crunch loudly. Gyaltsen winched sharply, but quickly gained control of his breathing, which he maintained despite being kicked in the exact same place another three times.

"Well, you've got some strength," Romano commented appreciatively, from his vantage point across the room. "I've done that to younger, fitter men than you, and they've wept like an Oscar winner. Just for that, I'll make your inevitable death swift- you won't feel a thing..."

"May I... request... a little... before..." Gyaltsen was clearly having difficulty in speaking. Romano cupped his hand to his ear dramatically.

"Is that a last wish I hear?" he taunted, in a cruel voice. He glanced across at Catalina, who stopped filing her nails for a moment. She glanced at Gyaltsen's curled-up frame, before looking back at Romano.

"Oh, come on," Catalina purred. "The man, 'e should get a last request. We do 'ave standards, even if those oafs of the Dark Lord's do not."

Romano nodded.

"That is true," he replied, before jerking his head towards one of the vampires currently pinning Gyaltsen to the floor.

"As you wish," the vampire said, whilst offering a sardonic bow. He lifted Gyaltsen up by the arm.

"Well?" he demanded. Gyaltsen remained silent, and Harry thought he looked rather peaky.

"Please... can't stand..." Gyaltsen's words came breathlessly and pained. Romano surveyed him with curiosity.

"Can't stand what?" he goaded. "The torture of your broken ribs? The shame of being dependent upon us?"

"Up," Gyaltsen managed to reply. Romano clicked his fingers.

"Help him," he ordered, and one of the vampires scurried over to Gyaltsen and held his up by his free arm. The two vampires then hoisted Gyaltsen's arms over their own, looking to Harry like they were about to escort him to a hospital.

"Now, tell me your last request," Romano insisted. Gyaltsen smiled genially.

"I would like to meditate," he replied, simply. Romano laughed.

"That is all?"

"It is good for the soul."

This caused Romano to laugh again. "There is something rather quaint about you humans and your intangible desires. Does the philosopher not describe the religious man as akin to a blind man who is searching in a darkened room for a black cat that is not there, yet he claims to have found it?" he asked.

"I do not worship a God," Gyaltsen replied. Bizarrely, Romano looked relieved.

"Fine- let him have his fun; then we'll have ours," he said, dismissively. "It's the gentleman's way, after all.

The two vampires continued to hold Gyaltsen upright.

"Please," Gyaltsen explained, "in order to meditate, I must not touch others- I must be alone with my thoughts..."

"Oh, I get it," Romano interrupted, suddenly sounding a lot nastier. "You want us to go, so that you can escape? I rather thing not- what kind of an idiot to you take me for?"

Gyaltsen smiled pleasantly.

"No, no; please, you misunderstand me. I merely require space. I do not ask for you to leave, just that I have three feet of space around me. Therefore, I cannot be held up, yet I must stand to achieve a full spiritual experience; and seeing as I cannot stand, you can remain safe in the knowledge that I most certainly cannot run anywhere. All I need is an inanimate object to rest against..." He left the request hanging in the air, presumably with the hope that one of the vampires would suggest it. Harry couldn't help but admire his ability to manipulate; though he was sure it ran counter to the Lama's religious ideals. Once again, he found himself wondering exactly where Persephone had learnt some of her more subversive skills... and hoping she was okay.

"Fine," Romano sneered. "Rest the old man against that boiler in the corner. If he tries to make a stagger for it, eat him."

The two vampires holding Gyaltsen nodded, and dragged him over to the corner of the room where the boiler stood.

"Oi!" Romano shouted. "Stop!"

Harry felt his heart sink into the pit of his stomach as the two vampires stopped and turned to face an angry looking Romano.

"Don't drag him like some piece of meat- take some care, will you?" he demanded. "Otherwise, there'll be nothing left of him later- and I do so dislike carrion."

The vampires looked at each other curiously, shrugged, then carefully walked Gyaltsen towards the boiler. Once they seemed certain he had clung onto it, they let him go and stepped back a few feet. Gyaltsen smiled gratefully.

"You truly are gentlemen of honour," he said, bowing slightly to them. He then proceeded to place his hands upon the boiler and mutter words that Harry could not hear, owing to the distance. He doubted they were in English anyway.

"Do you know what he's doing?" Amanda asked, in a voice tinged with curiosity. Harry shrugged.

"No; just that he does it a lot- I think it's supposed to help him remain centred," he replied, trying to sound like he had no clue about Gyaltsen's behaviour. Amanda nodded.

"I see... it's fascinating, really. I was a student of Psychology not too long ago, you see. One of the most interesting things about humans is their ability to accept abstract concepts, such as religion and philosophy. You look at most animals- there's just not the brain area to deal in such higher thought. With most animals, it's all very instinctive and basic; where to get your next meal, where to shelter, how to defend or flee predators... Are you; I mean, were you, planning to go to University at all?" she asked, looking up at Harry. He swallowed, and tried not to think how much this vampire was reminding him of Hermione.

"Erm, no. I go to a wizarding school; they don't have universities there," he explained. Amanda nodded.

"Oh, so you go to Hogwarts, I'd imagine? I've read lots about that place, since becoming a vampire," she enthused. "I was a Muggle, you see... What house are you in?"

"Gryffindor," he replied. Amanda tapped her chin with her finger.

"Hmm, you see, that's interesting. I'd be eager to study that particular establishment, in order to look at the developmental psychology of adolescents; you know, the importance of nature versus nurture whilst growing up. Your school separates the students into one of four houses, based on detected qualities inherent at the ages of eleven to twelve..."

"Ten, in the case of one or two," Harry added. Amanda nodded.

"Right- what I was interested in is how that moulds your development during puberty and adolescence. Are you naturally predisposed to being, in your case, courageous and loyal, or is it something you end up becoming because it is expected of you as a member of Gryffindor house? It would make a most interesting study..."

"Amanda! Stop engaging dinner in conversation!" Catalina complained. Amanda looked furious.

"I was just..."

"Well, don't!" Catalina barked, which caused Amanda to cringe a little.

No longer hearing Amanda speak like a clone of Hermione was a relief to Harry, who instead watched as Gyaltsen bowed three times, placing his head against the boiler as he did so, before straightening up.

"There- I am done, and I am at peace," Gyaltsen stated, as he lifted himself off the boiler and staggered back to where the two vampires were waiting to assist him. Harry felt his heart hammer against his ribcage as though it were playing a concerto. Gyaltsen had done as he had promised; the rest was up to him.

"At peace- guess that's something you lot wouldn't understand, being spiritually dead!" Harry spat loudly, hoping that his earlier observations about the vampires finding references to their death rather offensive were not erroneous. The way Romano glared at him suggested that Harry had been entirely correct.

"Get the boy down here, too!" Romano ordered. "We can punish them both- they'll soon learn that we are not to be trifled with!"

A trembling Amanda snapped one of Harry's bonds; Catalina snapped the other, and they threw Harry to the floor, where he landed upon his knees somewhat painfully. He didn't care to think about the agony, though- for he had more important things to take care of.

"Dextera; Reducto!" Harry roared, hoping his plan was going to work; otherwise both he and Gyaltsen would find themselves up a certain creek without a specific implement necessary for paddling. A series of small rocks near Harry's feet flew towards the boiler and hit the rusty pressure gauge simultaneously.

Suddenly, the release handle was forced open, and huge jets of steam poured from the rusty old boiler, emanating throughout the room. The group of vampires began to hiss and recoil from the steam, shielding their faces and uttering streams of curses.

"You!" Romano shrieked. "You blessed the water! But, how? You don't worship a God?"

Gyaltsen smiled pleasantly.

"No," he replied, "because technically, I am considered the reincarnation of one. However, I shall always have faith."

A hand swiftly grasped Harry's, and he instinctively knew it was Gyaltsen. For a start, it was warm.

"That was very clever, Harry," he said, in the same calm voice he had used ever since Harry had first met him.

"Thanks," Harry replied, "now, I reckon we should try to get out of here! Are you okay to walk?"

"Of course I am," he answered. "One of the things about wandless magic; it becomes very easy to heal oneself."

Gyaltsen murmured something under his breath, and the metal door flew open. They both ran towards it, and Harry instinctively ushered Gyaltsen through the exit first.

Almost as soon as Gyaltsen had left the room, Harry felt a strong hand grip his ankle. He pulled away, but was forced to turn in the direction of the tug. To his horror, he saw Amanda looking up at him, almost pleadingly; her face was covered in angry looking blisters and the skin peeled away in parts. Not without shame, Harry was made painfully aware of the fact that it was all down to him.

"Harry, we must go," Gyaltsen's voice called through the haze, and Harry shook himself out of his reverie. He mouthed an apology to Amanda for reasons he didn't understand, and followed Gyaltsen out of the room.

As soon as he was out of the small dungeon room, Gyaltsen looked at the door, and it slammed shut, stifling the screams of the vampires.

"Are you just going to leave them in there?" Harry asked. "What about your philosophies? Never willingly harming any living creature?"

Gyaltsen smiled slyly.

"You said it yourself, Harry- I must not willingly harm any living creatures," he replied, before deftly ascending the small spiral staircase that Harry realised he had been dragged down. He absently rubbed the back of his head, and felt numerous nasty bumps had formed there.

"I didn't know you had to keep three feet of space around you when you meditate," Harry whispered as they climbed quietly up the stairs.

"Well, that is probably because you don't," Gyaltsen replied. "Now quieten yourself; we are nearing a main corridor, I feel."

Harry instinctively flattened himself against the wall as they reached the top step, and listened next to the shut door on his left. For a moment, he thought his scar was beginning to prickle uncomfortably, but he decided to ignore the pain in lieu of the raised voices. Gyaltsen was in front of him, on the opposite side of the door, and clearly he was listening intently, too.

"I can hear voices," Gyaltsen whispered. "Somebody is arguing."

Somebody was indeed arguing; Harry could hear muffled, hot-tempered voices raging through the adjacent corridor. One voice was yelling about betrayal and cowardice; the other, judging from the syllables and rhythm of speech, kept saying the same thing over and over again, as though it were some kind of mantra. Although Harry couldn't tell what the latter voice was saying, he could definitely detect a familiar tone of contempt in it.

"I know that voice," Harry whispered. "That's Professor Snape!"

Gyaltsen groaned quietly.

"He shouldn't have come here- that is exactly what Voldemort wanted."

"I know," Harry replied. "We did try to stop him..."

"I imagine he could not be stopped," Gyaltsen interrupted. "It would have been foolish for anybody to think he could. It is one thing to know he shouldn't be here; it is quite another to stop a father from preventing any harm from befalling his daughter."

"But, it's utterly ridiculous!" Harry replied. "That's what Voldemort wanted- he must have known. He was told enough..."

"It does not matter," Gyaltsen replied. "A parent will risk everything, come hell or high water, for their child, even if it means throwing yourself in front of a sword to extend your child's life by three seconds. The danger, the stupidity... It doesn't matter. When you have children of your own, Harry; only then will you truly understand."

"You have children, then?" Harry asked, quietly. Gyaltsen smiled.

"I have no children of blood, but I have many children of faith. Two of those brought me here, much like they brought your Professor," he explained.

"Who were they?" Harry asked, bewildered by the old man's comments.

"Persephone, and you," he replied, simply, before pointing at the door. "Shall we?"

Harry nodded, although he tried to hide his surprise at Gyaltsen's previous words.

"No time like the present," he replied, and the door flew open, presumably at Gyaltsen's silent command.

Harry stilled himself to prepare for using wandless magic again- his own wand had gone missing sometime between him being knocked unconscious by Nott masquerading as Lupin, and him waking up- but there was precious little need. The two figures in the corridor had scarcely noticed anybody else was present.

"...I knew you were trouble, the moment I set eyes on you," Macnair sneered, pointing his wand in the face of Snape, who Harry could see was surreptitiously reaching for his own.

"And yet you remained silent? Hardly a characteristic I would associate with you, Walden..."

"Don't you dare use my name, you traitorous scumbag!" Macnair spat, forcing his wand a little closer to Snape's throat. Snape continued to glare at Macnair; the only sign that gave away a trace of nervousness was a quick swallowing motion. Macnair didn't seem to pick up on it.

"You really thought that you'd get away with it," he tutted, shaking his head, before yelling, "Expelliarmus!" at which Snape's wand flew out of his hand. Harry noticed that Snape appeared unpeturbed, however, and had continued to surreptitiously reach inside his robe pockets. Macnair narrowed his eyes at him suddenly, and muttered some incantation. Snape's arms were swiftly bound behind him, and a sharp kick by Macnair against the outside of Snape's knee caused him to keel over. Macnair fiddled around in Snape's robe pockets for a brief moment, before pulling out an additional wand.

"I know about your two wand trick, don't you worry," he sneered, pointing Snape's own wand at him menacingly. Harry instinctively moved forward to help, then he stopped a moment. Why exactly should he help Snape? Why should he help the man who, as far as Harry was concerned, had hit the final nail in Sirius' coffin just eighteen months ago?

Just as Steve's area of Harry's brain was bludgeoned into submission by some higher power than seemed to be inches away from providing Harry with an answer to those questions, a small flash of light appeared just behind Macnair. It wasn't strong enough to distract anybody's attention, but Harry noticed it, none the less. Yet, still the pain in his head steadily increased.

"I'm taking you to the Dark Lord- and you'll be dead in five minutes!" Macnair gloated.

"Then he's got something you haven't!" a girlish voice lilted. To his utter surprise, Harry saw Faith Hamilton standing behind Macnair, twirling a section of her hair around her finger. A crystal pendant glinted conspicuously, and Harry presumed she had used her Time And Space Machine to arrive at that particular point. Macnair turned around, and having clearly not reached the same conclusion as Harry, he merely laughed.

"And what exactly would that be, little girl?" he sneered, contemptuously. Harry felt sick- Macnair had essentially put Faith into Azkaban by virtue of framing her, yet he didn't even seem to recognise the young woman standing before him. Suddenly, to Harry's utter shock, Macnair fell to the floor in a crumpled heap, his chest completely still. Faith stood behind him, her wand pointed at the now dead man.

"Five minutes," she replied, before pointing her wand at Snape's bonds, and breaking them. Snape looked stunned.

"Miss Hamilton," he began, but Faith put her fingers to her lips and shushed him.

"This doesn't change things," she warned, "because I still hate you. But you care about Persephone, and that's good enough for me. Plus, I got closure."

Snape nodded in reply. Faith smiled, and proudly handed Snape his two wands back, as though she were a child holding a door open.

"Do you know where she is?" she asked. Snape sighed, and shook his head.

"I must have searched half this area, and I've found no sign of her," he admitted. Faith shrugged.

"Then we search the other half," she announced, grabbing Snape by the hand- much to his apparent horror- and leading him towards Gyaltsen and Harry.

"I'm afraid that would be a very bad idea, Faith," Gyaltsen commented, calmly, as he blocked their way by judicious use of standing. Faith scowled, and pointed her wand at Gyaltsen, only for it to fly out of her hand and into his.

"As was that," Gyaltsen, commented, pocketing Faith's wand. "There is no need to attack me, I am not your enemy. We must go..."

"You want to leave Percy for dead! You are an enemy; you're an enemy of me!" Faith countered, hotly. Gyaltsen shook his head slowly.

"I have no desire to hurt Persephone, you know that..." He sighed heavily. "What have they done to you, Faith?" He reached forward and tried to stroke her hair tenderly, but Faith pulled away defensively.

"Who the hell are you?" she demanded.

"I'm Lama Gyaltsen. Do you not remember me? I met you a few times during Persephone's wandless magic training- you asked me about Buddhism, and how I knew I was an incarnation," he explained, patiently, but Faith seemed unconvinced.

"No, I don't," she replied angrily. "That sounds like radio-transmission to me. Did you put something in my brain?" she demanded, tapping the back of her head with her index finger and glaring at him with unblinking eyes. "I think I might have an implant there; it makes me hear music, as well as words..."

Harry tried to ignore the building pain in his forehead, and glanced across at Gyaltsen, and saw he looked heartbroken. Presumably the news of Faith's condition had travelled far and wide, but the impact only became apparent upon seeing it in the flesh.

"We must go," Gyaltsen repeated, fixing his gaze on a furious Snape, who up until this point had remained silent.

"I won't leave her here!" he countered, angrily. Gyaltsen sighed.

"We would not be leaving here; blundering in to rescue her will just make things worse- and not necessarily worse for you, Professor, but worse for Persephone," he explained. Harry nodded in agreement, for he remembered the last time they had been hasty. It had cost Sirius his life.

"Gyaltsen's right; we could put her in more danger..."

"Shut up, Potter," Snape snapped, breezily. Harry was about to spit out a retort, but Gyaltsen halted him with just a look.

"I know this is not an easy thing I ask of you," he reasoned, "but it is the right thing to do."

"What would you know?" Snape spat.

"I've known Persephone a lot longer than you..." Gyaltsen suddenly stopped speaking, as though he realised that he had just uttered the worst words possible. The pallor that had spread through Snape's complexion confirmed this.

"Don't you dare," Snape growled, but Gyaltsen quickly interrupted him.

"She will of course be different as a adult to the child you knew. However, I believe she would not wish for anybody else to be harmed unnecessarily in order to rescue her. I hear she takes after her father in many other ways, as well," he replied. Snape seemed mollified for a moment.

"She's my daughter; I can't just walk away," he reasoned. "I have to get her out of here..."

"And you're willing to jeopardise everything she has worked for in order to achieve this? I doubt very much that is Persephone's wish," Gyaltsen replied, evenly. Snape looked at him with utter loathing for a moment, then seemed to see his point.

"I suppose... I can't leave her here," he said, quietly. Gyaltsen nodded.

"And you won't. She shall be found, just not like this," he reaffirmed.

"Let's go," Faith said, looking up at Snape. "There are radio-waves trying to get inside my head, anyway. We can try and track her. I'll bleed you a little... I'm sure I'll be able to come up with some sort of homing spell using it... Blood is important, after all..." She began pacing in little circles, as though walking in geometric shapes helped her to retreat into her own mind.

"Are you sure we'll be able to get her out?" Harry asked, as Faith began snapping her fingers in time to some rhythm only she knew. Gyaltsen sighed.

"I am certain of nothing except death and rebirth," he stated. "She does have a better chance this way, though, I am sure. Act in haste; repent at leisure."

Snape exhaled loudly, and pinched the bridge of his nose, but he said nothing in reply.

"Do you know this place we are in?" Gyaltsen probed, gently. "Do you know how we can get out?"

"No," Snape replied, "and yes. I don't know this particular holding zone, but I can hazard a guess as to where the exit is. There's always an emergency escape route that runs along the peripheral ridge. You can access it..." Snape trailed off, and took Macnair's wand from his outstretched hand. He grabbed his own two wands and pocketed them, using Macnair's wand to tap along each single brick in the stone wall on his left.

"Is this Voldemort's hide-out, then?" Harry whispered. Snape glared at him.

"Firstly, Potter, after six and a half years of teaching you, I doubt very much remembering to call me 'sir' is that difficult a task, even for you. Secondly, need I remind you not to say the Dark Lord's name!" he hissed. Harry shrugged.

"Sorry, sir," he replied, though the effort to keep a civil tongue was so demanding, he was secretly proud of his attempt. Especially considering he was in a not inconsiderable amount of pain- his forehead was pounding wildly now.

"This isn't his hideout," Snape added, after a short silence. "The Dark Lord would not be so stupid as to lead anybody directly to his own headquarters. Presumably this is a temporary dungeon, used to hold Prisoners of War and other hostages awaiting interrogation or death..."

Finally, a short tap from Macnair's wand caused a blur of bricks to disintegrate, leaving a well-sized hold in the wall; certainly large enough for them to crawl through.

"Won't the Dark Lord be suspicious?" Gyaltsen asked. "He does know you are no longer in his service..."

"I didn't open it," Snape pointed out, twiddling Macnair's wand through his fingers. "Walden did. Now, just follow it along- there will be an Apparition point about five minutes away," he ordered. Gyaltsen climbed into the hole without question, and on seeing this, Harry followed.

"Wait a second!" he announced, suddenly.

"What is it?" Gyaltsen asked.

"Lupin! I head Nott mention something about Lupin being here. Nott Polyjuiced himself into Lupin to lure me..."

"If we are leaving Persephone here, we are most certainly leaving him," Snape spat, before pushing Harry back through the hole. Harry reluctantly obeyed, but noticed that Faith refused to follow.

"I have my own methods," she replied haughtily, before tapping her crystal pendant with her wand and announcing, "Commuto positus!" at which she disappeared with another flash of white light.

The emergency exit route was small and cramped; Harry had to stoop to move along it, and he was hardly the tallest of people. Eventually, they reached a point where Harry found he could stand upright, at which Snape ordered them to Apparate back to the vicinity of Hogwarts.

"We haven't a moment to lose," he hissed. "The sooner we get back, the sooner we can hunt for Persephone..."

Disapparating with a loud bang, Harry found himself outside the Hogwarts grounds, and struggling to keep up with Snape, who was running full-pelt across the grounds.

"Don't worry, Harry; Persephone has a much greater capacity for self-preservation than your professor gives her credit for," Gyaltsen soothed, and for a moment, Harry was mollified by his words.

The doors to the Main Hall flew open upon Harry's presence, and shut behind Gyaltsen once he was safely ensconced inside the building. Running up the stairs and past Alex's office, Harry heard no voices emanating from the room, and quickly came to the conclusion that the Order had moved either to Grimmauld Place, or to McGonagall's office. He decided to check the latter option first, and so turned back and ran up another flight of stairs, with Gyaltsen in hot pursuit.

"Where are we going?" Gyaltsen asked, sounding slightly out of breath.

"The Headmistress' office," Harry explained, as the pain in his head abated suddenly. "They're all waiting there, I think, trying to do something about what happened."

"Perhaps the Brethren will have some news on Persephone," Gyaltsen pointed out, as Harry ran up to the stone gargoyle in front of Professor McGonagall's office.

"Haversacking Humphrey," Harry said to the gargoyle, and it moved along the corridor, allowing Harry and Gyaltsen access to the spiral staircase that led to McGonagall's office.

On entering the office, where McGonagall, Alex, Faith and the two Brethren Healers were busy working, Harry was greeted with two unexpected sights. The first was Persephone, bloodied and heavily beaten, leaning against McGonagall's desk. The second was the quivering rat she grasped tightly in her hands. A rat, Harry noticed, that had a silver paw.

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