Krum Do I Love?

Krum Do I Love? - Chapter 7

Indecision

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Very close to him was Hermione. She was lying on the floor, as still as the stone on which she fell.

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A medium-sized grey wolf stood in front of a stone gargoyle and looked impatiently out the window. After what seemed like a very long wait, the last rays of the lunar satellite disappeared beyond the edge of the earth. The wolf's face became shorter. His facial and body hair began thinning, and was finally mostly gone. Where the wolf had stood, now sat a man in a shabby travelling cloak, cramping with what appeared to be agonizing pain.

Remus took a deep breath and stood up. He mumbled the password to the gargoyle, and was forced to grin, despite the need to be sick. Dumbledore had a unique taste. Cactus Toffee indeed.

Dumbledore was waiting for him by his desk. He wore a very worried expression, which deepened as Remus entered the round office. All the past headmasters and headmistresses fixed Remus with stern looks, most of the men were absently playing with their beards, and more disturbingly, so were some of the women.

"I was expecting you," Dumbledore said quietly. "Although I hoped you would be someone else."

"Sirius?"

Dumbledore nodded his head very slightly, but it was enough to make the answer very clear. Yes, he had been hoping to see Sirius.

"What was their mission?"

"Have you seen yesterday's paper?" Dumbledore unexpectedly changed the subject.

"What's that got to do with where they are?"

"So I take it that you haven't." Dumbledore produced a copy of the Daily Prophet and spread it in front of Remus, front page up. Remus looked at him incredulously, and then lowered his eyes to the paper. The letters of the headline glowered at him: "IS THE BOY WHO LIVED A DEATH EATER?" He raised his eyes again, and gaped at Dumbledore. When he saw no motion to explain from the headmaster's side, he turned to read the entire article. His mouth was open even wider when he finished.

Remus wanted to ask what this was about, but he was rendered speechless. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, suddenly feeling the effect of the sleepless night.

"Is he really -" he managed to stammer.

"Oh no," Dumbledore offered him a comforting smile. "But this article about Harry managed to confuse a lot of people, including the boy himself." Dumbledore examined Remus, watching his words wipe the troubled expression off his face. "Sirius, Arabella and Mundungus were supposed to release Ms. Skeeter from Voldemort's clutches, and to prevent the publication of this article." The smile Dumbledore offered Remus was long gone. "I wish they had succeeded."

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"Is she dead?"

"I don't know. She doesn't look too good."

Ron approached Hermione, while both Draco and Harry struggled to their feet. They both gave up at about the same time, and just rolled along the flagstones until they had reached her.

Ron was the first to release a sigh of relief. "She's breathing," he announced. "enervate!" The expression on his face indicated that he might burst into a spontaneous little dance.

Harry allowed his head to drop beside Hermione's motionless figure. Draco placed his hand on the stone floor, and gently rested his head on it. A few minutes had passed before a slight movement made both boys sit bolt upright and then crouch over Hermione. There was a short struggle, and when it ended, Ron found himself sitting by Hermione's head, completely hidden from her view.

The first thing Hermione saw when she opened her eyes was Harry's face. She screamed and flinched away from him. Someone caught her shrinking body with strong but gentle hands. She turned, and saw Draco's face. Her heart gave a little leap, and she screamed.

Both boys were turned aback by her reaction, leaving her whole clear for Ron. Ron didn't waste one second. He circled her and found her side. An instant later, she was held in his arms, and he was gently rocking her.

"Ron," was the first word Hermione said.

"I'm here," said Ron. He felt that his chest was about to blast with the emotions it held for her.

"Can you not swing?"

Ron's face fell. He wanted to make things perfect for her, and now he blew it. He stopped moving at once, the sharp change sending a jolt through Hermione's exhausted body. Hermione gritted her teeth, but a tiny, agonised breath escaped her lips.

Draco came round quickly. "Let her go, Weasley," he said in a harsh tone. "Can't you see you're hurting her?"

The very fact that Malfoy was the one talking made Ron want to protest. He looked at Hermione, seeking approval, but her tortured eyes told him differently.

"Here, I'll help you lift her back to bed," volunteered Harry. As Ron held Hermione's upper-body, Harry grabbed her legs, and tried to heave them off the floor, but Hermione kicked him with a strength he hadn't suspected she possessed.

"Ouch." Harry shook his reddening hand. "What did you do that for?"

"Don't touch me," hissed Hermione. It was unbelievable she could produce such a menacing tone with such a feeble voice. "Don't even get near me. What happened? What did you use against me anyway?"

"I didn't use anything," said Harry with feeling, as he watched Draco shake his palm after being kicked as well. "I just stood there like a convict on the death row, waiting for you to - to -" Harry didn't want to sound over-dramatic and say 'kill me', but that exactly what he was doing.

"All I did was try to stun you. You must have deflected the curse somehow."

"How could I?" shouted Harry, resenting the implication. "I didn't have my wand. It was on the floor, you saw it!"

"The spell did bounce off you," contributed Ron to Harry's great chagrin. "You deflected it just like you deflected Malfoy's spell." He picked up Hermione without the help of the others, and placed her on the bed. Then, he covered her with a thick duvet and fastened the edges of the blanket around her. Hermione cuddled in the bed, looking warm and quite comfortable.

"I had my wand with Malfoy. I meant to set the spell back at him. I didn't do it with Hermione. I'll take Veritaserum on that."

"Yeah, we've seen what the Veritaserum is worth in your case," sneered Draco. "It's just like the Imperius Curse. Has no effect on you."

Hermione sat bolt upright in the bed.

"Shhh," Ron tried to calm her. He tried to push her gently back into a resting position, but she objected.

"No," she said. "Draco, you've just given me an idea of what's going on." She turned her face to Harry. This was the first time he saw softness in the way she looked at him since the incident with the Truth Potion. His heart trembled with joy. "Harry, do you remember the fake wand?"

"Yes," said Harry. "But I don't have it either. And I don't think I could use it on you anyway."

"Actually, you could," said Hermione. Before Harry could object, she added: "But I don't think you would have." This statement won her three very confused stares.

"Harry, I think you have a very high MQ," she said in a victorious tone of someone who had just conquered the world's most complicated riddle.

"Oh," said Ron, his eyes lit up with understanding.

"Oh," muttered Draco with a disgruntled tone.

"A what?" asked Harry, who felt pressure starting to form in his temples.

"MQ - Magical Quotient," Hermione said like she was reading out of a book. "It measures how strong a wizard or a witch you potentially are."

"Oh," said Harry, massaging his temples. That's just what he needed now. Another thing to single him out from the rest of the wizarding community. The look on Malfoy's face confirmed his suspicion. This was almost as bad as the time he'd learned he was a parselmouth. And that time was Malfoy's fault as well. He felt his rage surging. "What exactly does that mean?" he asked, looking back at Hermione.

"Everyone has an MQ," explained Hermione, sounding more and more like Professor Binns. "Any score above fifteen is considered magical. To be able to use a wand to do magic, you need a score of over forty-five. You get a letter from Hogwarts if you have forty-five or above."

"Your friend Neville probably has forty-five," Draco inserted viciously.

Hermione glared at him, and went on. "Up to seventy, it is considered a mild magical ability. Seventy to ninety is moderate magical ability. Ninety to one hundred and ten is what most wizards and witches have. Anyone who scores above that is considered gifted to some level."

"Is that all?" asked Harry. The pressure in his head was beginning to ebb down.

"Not exactly," said Ron, who had caught up with Hermione's train of thought. "If your score is above one hundred and forty, you are likely to be able to do some basic magic without a wand."

"Is that considered Dark Art?" Harry's face was a mask of concern.

"Not really." Draco calmed him down. "But it is said that You-Know-Who has an MQ of one-hundred and sixty five." Apparently, alleviating Harry's fears was not what Draco had in mind.

"Wow," breathed Harry. Facing Voldemort seemed more frightening than ever before.

"Well, so does Dumbledore." Hermione tried to undo Draco's damage.

Harry sat on the edge of her bed. Hermione drew her legs to her chest, but said nothing. "That's too much information for me," he said finally. He could see the pre-dawn light making the forest clearing outside the window glow. "I don't think any of us is getting back to sleep. Maybe we should get a move on." He sprang off the bed, and then realized something. "Malfoy, where are we going, anyway?"

"I'll have to check that," Draco said cryptically and immediately left the room. Ron and Harry followed suit, and Hermione tagged along with them.

Draco led the way into the main communications chamber. He went to the pile of jars, and scanned them critically.

"What are you looking for?" asked Ron, looking at the identical jars with him.

"Don't disturb me, Weasley," Draco hushed him rudely. After a while, he pulled a jar out of the pile. Magically, the pile did not collapse. "This one," he said. "The one that says 'locator floo'."

"That one doesn't say anything," Ron scowled. "None of them do."

"You can't see it," mocked Draco, "but I bet your Death Eater friend can."

"Don't call me that," Harry shouted. His anger was not because of Draco's snide remark, but mainly due to the fact that he could, in fact, see some sort of markings on the jars. It wasn't tangible writing, but it didn't feel like a good sign at all.

Ignoring Harry's complaint, Draco took the jar with him and started walking very slowly along one of the flame-covered walls.

"Are you looking for the one that says 'Goyle'?" Hermione couldn't repress her curiosity.

"Don't be silly." Draco's tone was much softer when he spoke to her. "There are no names on the flames. Only codes." He paused and kneeled in front of one of the flames, located on the second shelf from the floor. "Luckily, I happen to know Goyle's code." He took a pinch of powder out of the jar and before any of the terror-stricken others present could stop him, he tossed it into the flame.

The green flame flared bright silver for a second, and then, puffing out a little foul smelling cloud, shifted its haze, and featured a large bedroom. It was furnished luxuriously, with antique chests, a crystal chandelier, a huge four-poster bed and small Persian rugs at the foot of the bed. A man was sleeping alone in the bed, his large stomach rising and sinking rhythmically.

"Is that the man who attacked you?" Hermione asked, looking eagerly at Harry.

Harry observed the man on the bed intently. His face was mostly hidden in his pillow. "Could be," he said without much conviction. "I can't really tell." The man moaned in his sleep, and turned to the other side, like something was disturbing him. Harry gasped and retreated from the flame. "It's him," he said weakly.

"Good," said Draco. He enjoyed seeing Harry so frightened and enjoyed even more the fact that Hermione had seen him like this as well. He tossed some more powder into the image, and it started zooming out rapidly, giving the watchers a feeling they were flying backwards on a speeding broom.

It showed the entire bedroom, then it passed through a wall. For a moment, the wall filled the entire image, but it quickly turned into a wide hall with hanging torches and some pictures they had no time to recognize, because the view had already passed through the opposite wall. It kept moving, slowing down a bit, until it finally stopped, featuring a large manor with wide fields and a single yellowing stone mansion in the middle.

"I know where that is," whispered Draco. "And it's not good."

"Why not?" Ron asked the question although he didn't really care to hear the answer.

"He Who Must Not Be Named uses that house often."

"Well, we'll just have to wait for him to be out," said Harry, his chin set in obstinacy.

"I guess so." Draco's voice still sounded a bit dejected, but his chin was moved to match Harry's. "It's very far away, though. We're going to have to use our brooms to get there."

"Brooms?" asked Ron and Hermione together. The shared the same alarmed tone.

"You did bring brooms, didn't you?" Harry tried, although he already knew the answer. Ron and Hermione said nothing.

"Unbelievable," muttered Draco. He should have guessed that Weasley wouldn't bring a broom. He probably couldn't afford one anyway, but Hermione was a smart witch, she should have thought of bringing one with her. Then he thought about it. Hermione didn't much care for broom flying. "All right, here's what we're going to do," he offered eventually. "Each broom can easily carry two people. It won't be much good for racing, but it will have to do."

"Fine," agreed Hermione reluctantly. She wasn't enthusiastic about riding a broom, but if that what it would take to help Harry, then she'd do it. "Meet you outside in ten minutes." She went back to her room to pack her things, and saw the others do the same.

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Ginny stood outside the castle, watching the Giant Squid do his morning exercise. It was freezing at this time of dawn. She stomped her feet in the snow, trying to get herself to warm up a bit.

"Oh, I thought you'd wait for me inside." He quickly wrapped her in his thick travelling cloak.

Ginny cuddled in the cloak, eagerly accepting the embrace that came with it. "Lee, I couldn't wait," she said sheepishly.

They kissed and headed for the castle, sharing Lee's cloak. Their progress was considerably slow, as they stopped from time to time, either to kiss, or to recover from one of them stepping on the other one's foot. The latter didn't really count, as they used the recesses to do the former, easily dismissing the pain with their attention on the kiss.

By the time they reached the steps to the castle door, it was already time for breakfast. Ginny had decided to skip the meal, planning on grabbing some toast on the way to History of Magic. That would win her a few more minutes with Lee.

An owl swooped by their heads, and landed at their feet in a sorry heap of parchment and feathers.

"Errol?" asked Ginny, hesitantly. It was unlikely that her parents would send that retired owl. Unless - unless something was terribly wrong. She picked the owl up gently, and brushed the snow away, along with some of his feathers. It was shivering from the cold. Ginny held him close to her, to give him some of her warmth, and ascended the stairs very quickly. It was Errol, all right.

"Lee, can you read the letter for me?" she asked, as Lee had already picked the parchment and went after her. Both her hands were busy cuddling poor Errol.

"Sure," said Lee, and started reading: "Dear Ginny, We're sending Errol because we're-" Lee had stopped his loud read-out, and scanned the rest of the letter mutely.

"What is it?" Ginny asked impatiently.

"It's er-" Lee stammered. "Maybe I should hold Errol." He reached for the trembling bird, and gave her the letter instead. Ginny was getting uneasy by all the signs, including Lee's terribly white face. She gave him the owl, and started reading.

Dear Ginny

We're sending Errol because we're very worried about Ron, and we don't want to wait for another owl to arrive. We sent him a letter yesterday, asking him to contact us, and he hasn't returned our owl.

We are concerned for his safety, especially because of the new circumstances that have arisen, and his dormitory arrangements.

Please find him, and let us know he's all right.

Love, Mum and Dad.

"My mum lets herself be influenced by what that Skeeter woman is writing." Ginny shook her head with disapproval. "Let's go to the Great Hall and feed Errol." She took the owl back in her hands. "We might as well get some breakfast, too."

Lee nodded in agreement. She knew her parents better than him, although he had to admit that the letter was, at the least, disturbing.

Ginny busied herself feeding Errol, while Lee looked around the Gryffindor table, his concern growing steadily with each moment. "Ginny?" he tried eventually. Ginny took her eyes off the stuffed owl and gave him her attention. "Shouldn't Ron be here by now?"

The possibility that something might have actually happened to Ron sank on Ginny like a surprise Potions Quiz. She paled, and imitated Lee's search. "Harry isn't here either," she said. "Come to think of it, I can't see Hermione anywhere -" She racked her brain to remember the last time she has seen her. It was yesterday at lunch. She walked hastily to Dean, who seemed to be enjoying his breakfast more than normal.

"Dean, have you seen Ron or Harry?" she asked.

"No," Dean answered. "They weren't there this morning when I woke up, and they went to bed after I was already asleep, too." He smiled impishly. "I guess they're up to something again."

Dean's unconcern was not infectious. Ginny was by now extremely anxious. "Lee, they might be in horrible danger. We must find them." She tugged on his sleeve.

"Not we, Ginny." Lee pushed her tenderly. "You're not even a fully-grown witch. You stay right here, and I'll go search for them. I'm sure they're just stuck somewhere with some trick that backfired." He made an effort to look like he knew what he was talking about.

"There's no way I'm letting you go alone."

"Well, my first stop would be in Dumbledore's office. Do you really want to tell him that you're going to miss classes? And on your OWL's year? You might get yourself expelled." he looked at her unconvinced expression. It was time to be a bit cruel for her own safety. "Ginny," he said softly, "You'll only get in my way."

Ginny was a bit offended at first, but then realized what he was doing. "I see right through your trick, Lee." Still, there was a point in what he said. He was, although young, a fully trained wizard, while she was - not. "All right," she eventually acceded. She sank back into her chair, and started patting Errol in long, distracted strokes. "Just be careful. Please."

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Harry mounted his broom, his pack on his back. He saw Draco do the same. "Come on, Hermione," he called her as she came out of the house, carrying her pack and slightly limping.

"Uh ah." Draco shook his head furiously. "I'm not riding with Weasley. Forget about it."

"Well, you have to," said Hermione. She wasn't very keen on riding with Harry after yesterday's events, but, "There is no way I'm riding with you," she announced to Draco.

"What? After what we've been through together, you're still afraid I'm going to throw you off the broom?"

"No. I'm actually more afraid I'll want to jump off," retorted Hermione.

Draco felt the air leave him like he'd been hit in the stomach. "You don't have much choice," he said, his face gaining its familiar ice-cold expression. "Weasley and I are not about to ride on the same broom."

"Fine," said Hermione. "Then you'll ride with Harry."

"What?" both boys were shuddered. They lapsed into ardent protests, both knowing that it was a lost cause. Finally, their boisterous babble abated, and they just looked at each other with disgust.

"Give them your broom," commanded Draco. Harry opened his mouth to retort, but smartly decided against it. He just went to Ron, and deposited his Firebolt in his hands. He watched with overflowing envy as Hermione mounted the broom behind Ron, holding on firmly to his waist. She leaned her head against his back, closed her eyes, and waited. Her expression very much resembled that of a lamb knowing it was about to become shish-kebab.

"Don't even dream about holding me that way," Draco drawled at Harry.

"I wouldn't worry," Harry spat back.

Since this was Draco's broom, it was obvious that he would take the lead. It was also more sensible, as he was the only one who knew which way they were headed. As they climbed above the forest trees, Harry made his best effort to hold only to the broom, but his hand slid from time to time, sending waves of chill through his chest and spine with each time he touched Draco. He could sense Draco's back stiffing with each such slip.

Harry made an effort not to look back at Ron and Hermione. The pinch he felt in his chest by merely thinking about them was too painful. His resolution not to look back held on no more than a few minutes. He cast his eyes over his shoulder, searching for the other pair on a broom.

"Malfoy, stop," he shouted over the whistle of the wind. "Ron and Hermione aren't behind us."

Draco turned the broom around so abruptly, that Harry slid fully forward, smacking into Draco's back. For a second, they were both wrapped in an isolating sphere, identical to the one that surrounded them when Draco first touched Harry's Dark Mark with his own. This made Draco lose control over the broom. Luckily the sphere was shattered before they hit the ground. They jumped off the broom the instant it was close enough to the ground, not saying a word to each other. One pair of warm emerald green eyes and one pair of icy steel grey eyes scanned the skies silently. After what seemed like eternity, the other broom appeared in the horizon. It took another long minute before it landed by their side.

Harry bit his lower lip when he saw that Hermione was still holding on to Ron, long after their legs had touched the ground. She was ashen-faced and looked like she was about to be sick.

"Where were you gone to?" Ron asked angrily, not rising as to not disturb Hermione.

"We didn't realise we'd lost you," Harry said genuinely. "I'm sorry."

"We were going as fast as this Firebolt could take us. This was the fastest I've ever flown." Ron was speaking enthusiastically now. "But still, we couldn't catch up with you."

"This is the same model," said Draco. "So I guess the difference is in the maintenance. I take good care of my broom."

"I take good care of my broom too," raged Harry. "It is probably in better condition than yours. Ron is probably just not used to its little antics."

"Well, my broom doesn't have any little antics," mocked Draco.

"All right then, give them your broom."

Draco hesitated for a second, and then surrendered his broom to Ron. After all, he set himself up for this. Ron took Draco's broom, and gently slid it beside Harry's. Once it was settled in place, he pulled Harry's broom out. Doing this, he was able to switch the brooms without swaying Hermione too badly.

"Can we go?" asked Draco impatiently. He feared that what they saw in the communications centre would no longer be relevant if they took too much time to get there. "We still have a long way to go."

Hermione nodded feebly, closing her eyes as if yielding in front of a horrible destiny.

Both brooms left the ground at once. Both cut through the crisp morning air together, but one of them rose above the treetops before the other. Harry recognised the gap between the brooms much quicker this time, and impelled Draco to stop.

The two boys hovered just over the top branches of the trees. Harry was almost compelled to touch them, when the other two stopped beside them.

"What's going on?" asked Draco. "You can't blame it on the broom this time. This is a top brand broom you've got there." He gestured with his head towards his own broom on which the other two were riding.

"Maybe it's a weight thing," suggested Harry.

This remark finally made Hermione speak, although her voice sounded weak, and she didn't bother to open her eyes as she spoke. "There is no way you and Draco weigh less than me and Ron." She remembered the heavy book in her pack, but it couldn't make that much of a difference. "No way," she repeated.

"Maybe the brooms are just not used to you," Harry said.

"Don't be stupid," Draco retorted. "Brooms don't get used to riders. They're not horses. They don't think."

"Then what? It can't be that both brooms malfunction when Ron is steering them, and work well when we use them."

"I think I know what it is." Hermione raised her head, and opened her eyes with some caution. She was relieved to find that the world wasn't spinning as fast as she thought it would. "I think it has to do with your MQ, Harry."

"Will you stop with that MQ thing?" Harry said, feeling extremely annoyed.

"That could explain why the broom you're on goes faster. The rider's MQ can affect the broom." Ron frowned. "This could also be the reason why you're such a good Seeker."

"Hey, me being a good Seeker has nothing to do with this stupid MQ. And there are two of us on the broom. This could be Malfoy's fault."

"How could this be Draco's fault?" countered Hermione. "This requires a really high score."

Draco made an offended face. "I happen to have an MQ of one-hundred and fifty two."

"Yeah, right," mocked Ron.

"I'm serious," insisted Draco. "My dad had me tested when I was five. He arranged an official Ministry test for me."

"Your Death Eater father? He probably terrorized the examiner into giving you a high score."

"Not true!"

"So you can do Wandless magic? Let's see some." Ron fixed Malfoy a challenging glare.

"You know that the MQ only marks the potential of the wizard when he comes of age," said Draco defensively. "That'll be in almost two years."

"So you can't," jeered Ron.

"Actually, I've never tried," drawled Draco, regaining his confidence. "I'm sure that under optimal conditions, I could."

"I dare you to try."

"This isn't exactly optimal conditions for a first attempt," Draco retreated.

"Then take an MQ test. I'm sure Hermione can conjure a reasonable test. I want to see you score over a hundred and fifty."

"I would," Draco succumbed to the challenge, forgetting their rush. "But only if you all take the test as well."

"Agreed," said Ron eagerly.

"Wait a minute!" said Harry, who kept out of the argument until now. "Don't say 'yes' for me. I won't do it."

"Oh, come on, Harry," Ron implored. "Don't you want to expose Malfoy's lie? Don't you want to see him humiliated?"

"Not if I humiliate myself in the process."

"You'll do just fine," Hermione reassured him. "And it will be very interesting. Please?"

Harry couldn't resist the pleading tone in her voice. He nodded his head reluctantly. If he had known that agreeing to the test would mean that She and Malfoy would sit together for long minutes, crouched over a piece of parchment (which Hermione naturally brought with her) and making complicated calculations, he might have reconsidered. The two were working together from the second the brooms landed in a nearby clearing they've found. Seeing them together made Harry want to beat up Malfoy again, but he restrained himself. Finally, they were done.

"All right," said Hermione, stretching her back after bending over the calculations for too long. "We've calculated the weight appropriate for each of us according to our dates of birth."

"What do you mean? What weight?" Harry asked.

"The test is simple," explained Hermione. "You will have to lift a certain weight using only your wand. The longer you hold it suspended, the higher you score is. Ten seconds are worth a round one hundred. Eleven is a hundred and ten, and nine seconds is ninety."

"That's all?" said Harry, a tad surprised. That sounded almost too easy. "How much would I have to lift?"

Hermione checked her notes. "I think - forty two." She ran her finger over the piece of parchment. "Yes, forty two hundred Kilos."

Harry's face paled. He remembered failing to lift the Pensieve for very long, and that was an object he could lift by sheer muscle power. That wasn't good. Concentrating on the mental image of Hermione's deeply disappointed face, Harry missed the preparations for Draco's test. Draco was to go first, and he and Hermione had already prepared the right weight for him, separating a large chunk of a fallen tree trunk, and conjuring a time-measuring spell.

Draco pointed his wand towards the tree trunk. The tension was clearly visible on his face. Fear that his father actually did falsify that test started penetrating his heart, weighing it down to the pit of his stomach, where it remained pulsing heavily. He pointed his wand to the log, and waited.

"Ready when you are," said Hermione after checking the time-measuring spell one last time.

Draco took a deep breath, steadied his wand, and stopped dead on the stop. Several blurred forms started to appear behind the ready log. As Draco stared at them, they took the shape of no less than a dozen wizards dressed in jet-black robes and wearing masks. Draco tightened his grip around his wand and watched them.

Harry was standing very close to Malfoy when he was about to start the test. Ron and Hermione were close by, too, but he was especially interested in watching Draco's every move. He had no intention of shamefully failing in front of Hermione. He saw the Death Eaters apparate just when Malfoy was about to begin his test. His hand immediately went to his wand, while his eyes wandered around, detecting more Death Eaters apparating all over the clearing. As is natural when facing mortal danger, the four children squeezed together.

All Death Eaters but one kept their initial positions. The one that moved advanced on them with cat-like stalking. "Most satisfactory," he said when he was close enough for them to hear him. His voice sounded oddly familiar to Harry.

Draco had had four hours during the previous night to wonder what he would do if forced to choose between the Dark side and the object of his love. Four hours, and he had come to no conclusion. He couldn't care less about what happened to Weasley and Potter, but Hermione - he had spent the entire four hours pouting over her.

Now that Draco was faced with that choice a lot sooner than he had expected, his mind was suddenly very clear. No debate, no deliberation. He knew exactly to which side he belonged. "Hello, Father," he said, and stepped beside the masked man. His wand pointed unswervingly at the other three.

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"So, where is that Skeeter woman being held?" Remus asked anxiously.

"We assumed she was at her house. Considering that our agents failed to return, that assumption might have been correct."

"All right." Remus rose to his feet, offering Dumbledore a resolute facade.

Dumbledore looked like he wanted to protest, but reconsidered. "I know Sirius regretted very much leaving you behind," he said.

"He is going to regret it much more once I find him," replied Remus.

A knock on the office door interrupted Dumbledore's smile at Remus' optimism. "Enter," he called.

The door opened to reveal a somewhat perplexed Lee.

"Come in, young Mr. Jordan. What can I do for you?"

Lee looked from Dumbledore to Remus, not sure if he could talk around him. Remus showed no sign of leaving the office. Quite the contrary, he looked at Lee with curious black eyes, waiting to hear what he had to say. After some more hesitation, and a few reassuring looks from Dumbledore, Lee decided that it was safe.

"I'm here about Ron Weasley," he said, and then hurried to add "and Hermione Granger and Harry Potter."

"What about them?" asked Dumbledore with a worried frown.

"They seem to be missing."

Dumbledore's advanced age appeared to have landed on him all at once. He leaned forward in his chair and looked like he was searching for something in his desk drawers. Finally, he straightened up again. "So it would seem," he said in a pensive tone. "And so is Draco Malfoy," he added.

"Do you think he could be responsible for their disappearance?" asked Lee. What he'd learned in the years he'd been in school with Malfoy made him naturally suspicious of the Slytherin boy.

"No, I suspect it has to do with yesterday's front page of the Daily Prophet. Have you seen it?" Dumbledore pushed the paper towards Lee.

"I'm afraid I have." Lee paused to think he promised Ginny he would try to look for Ron, but he had no idea where to begin. "Is there going to be a search for them?" he asked. "Because if there is, I'd like to take part in it."

"There will be no search. Not in that sense, anyway." Dumbledore hurried to add, seeing Lee's face fall. "Remus here was just about to leave for Rita Skeeter's house, to see if he can find, er, anything interesting there."

"Good," said Lee. "Then I'll come with you."

"You can't," said Remus softly. "This is going to be a very long and dangerous journey, and we have good reason to believe her house is swarming with Death Eaters. It is too dangerous for you."

"It sounds dangerous," agreed Lee. "That is why you need to use all the help you can get. I'll come with you, and we'll fight those Dark wizards together."

"You're very eager, and that's very nice." Remus offered Lee an admiring smile. "But you're too young to do this."

Dumbledore saw fit to intervene at this point. "How old were you when you lapsed into fighting the Dark Forces?" he attacked Remus.

"Things were different then. Voldemort was rising. Good wizards were being killed. Our side needed reinforcement."

"And how is that different than what we are facing today?" asked Dumbledore.

"Er -" Remus was stuck. There wasn't much difference, actually. "All right," he consented eventually. "I'll fill you in on the details on the way, but you have to promise to do exactly as I tell you, or else you should stay here now."

"I will do exactly as you tell me," Lee repeated obediently.

"All right," said Remus, still a bit reluctantly. He pointed at the paper on the desk. "Can I take that with me?"

"Of course," said Dumbledore. He watched Remus tear the front page of the copy, fold it carefully, and place it in his pocket. His face wore a mask of grief and worry. "Good luck," he mumbled to their backs as they disappeared behind the office's door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before Harry even had a chance to gape at Malfoy, his wand was already yanked out of his hand. He watched with horror as Malfoy handed his wand to his father, feeling his guts tying themselves into a complicated knot. At least now he could place the Death Eater's voice.

"We've done it, Weasley," Draco said, catching everyone else by surprise. "Take her wand." He glared at Weasley, waiting for him to move. If Weasley decided not to go along with his plan and attacked the Death Eaters instead, they were all dead, including him. He had just revealed that he was siding with him, no matter what side Weasley was on.

As if to stretch Draco's nerves to an impossible point, Weasley was laden to the ground, and didn't move. Luckily, Hermione caught on. She practically pushed her wand into Weasley's hand, and lapsed into a fake resistance act. Weasley tried to pull his hand back, not wanting to hurt Hermione, but she held it tight, making it seem like he was holding her.

"Take it," she whispered between loud cries of protest.

Ron just stared at her. Her eyes were large and beautiful and begging him to go along with the charade. Finally, he held her wand, holding her hand a little longer than necessary, just to feel her touch one more time. One time, which could very well be the last.

She gave him a tiny supportive nod and cast her eyes to the ground, not wanting him to see the fear that was creeping into her.

"Draco, you were able to recruit Ron Weasley?" Lucius Malfoy's voice sounded impressed.

"Yes, Father. I thought that Potter's best friend would make an important addition to our ranks."

"Very good, Draco," Lucius said proudly. "Our Lord and Master will be pleased."

"Thank you, father." Draco lowered his head at the mention of their master.

Lucius Malfoy took no chances. He kept five other Death Eaters with him to help him guard Potter and the mudblood girl. Even though they were both tied with magical cords, he still remembered Potter's previous performances and decided on some prudence. Truthfully, he bore some fear of the young boy.

The six masked wizards and the two boys ushered Harry and Hermione back into the hut from which they came. Without the use of the state-of-the-art broomsticks, it took them well over two hours to get there.

Draco kept close watch on Weasley, making sure he wasn't about to make a foolish heroic move and kill them both. He knew how cheap their lives were, even for his own father, and hoped that Weasley appreciated that as well. He smiled bitterly, thinking that the only person there, whose life was treasured, was Potter who was saved to be served to the Dark Lord. In any event, he made sure to block Weasley's view of the other Death Eaters.

By the time they got to the hut, Harry was thirsty, and weary, and was beginning to lose concentration. Their arrival to the hut prodded him a bit, but still, he wasn't half-ready when the huge blow caught him at the back of the head. He only had time to see Hermione collapse by his side before he blacked out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I've brought you some food." The door closed behind Snape with a smooth 'clink' as he carried a large silver trey inside.

The three prisoners jumped to their feet, and were on his side a second later. "It's about time," said Sirius, taking the trey off Snape's hands. "Not as much as a glass of water until now. What kind of hosts are you, anyway?"

Arabella and Mundungus were in a less playful mood. They waited for Snape to be free of the trey, and then, both made a grab at him. Mundungus caught Snape's left arm in a mighty lock behind his back, while Arabella swept him off his feet. Before he even had time to shout the first syllable, Snape was on the ground, his shoulders locked beyond any thought of motion, and his mouth gagged with both of Arabella's hands, and much of her weight. The rest of Arabella's weight was on his chest, nailing him to the flagstones as an added bonus to Mundungus' lock.

Snape struggled to talk, but he barely even managed to breath under Arabella's pressing palms. He looked to Sirius with eyes wide with fear and anger. Sirius returned his gaze, slothfully chewing on an apple from the trey Snape had brought in with him.

"If I ask them to remove the gag, do you promise to behave?" drawled Sirius, spitting little bits of apple as he spoke.

Snape failed his attempt to say 'yes'. He nodded his head as much as Arabella's hold allowed him.

"That's a good boy," flouted Sirius. "All right, Arabella, you can take your hands off his face, but don't let him up."

Arabella removed her hands and wiped them on Snape's shoulders, expression visible disgust.

"I never should have removed the bonding spells off you," spat Snape. "I should have known you were a bunch of treacherous, ungrateful, unworthy -" His rant was abruptly cut off by a hard slap from Arabella's hand.

"Good one," Sirius complimented her.

Snape's face was red with anger, although one side of it had a more vivid colour than the other. "You do realise that if I'm not out of here in about one minute, real Death Eaters will be coming in."

"'Real Death Eaters' as opposed to you being a 'toy Death Eater' that you are?" mocked Mundungus. He looked to Sirius, not remotely lessening his grip on Snape's arm. "Can I have a bite of that apple too? I'm starving."

Sirius moved to feed the apple to Mundungus, deliberately prodding Snape's ribs in the process. "How many?" he asked.

"How many Death Eaters in the house?"

"I told you this was You-Know-Who's main headquarters," Snape said carefully, not releasing a number.

"What exactly does that mean? Ten? Twenty?"

"Around those numbers, yes," answered Snape. "Only -" He seemed to have something to say, but didn't know quite how to say it.

"What?" snapped Sirius.

"There will be some honoured guests here today. That means that the house will be full." Mundungus released his grip a bit, listening to Snape. Snape tried to wriggle out of the lock, but only managed to move slightly. "I believe there will be around fifty minions of the dark forces by nightfall."

"Who are these guests?" demanded Sirius. He had neglected his apple completely.

"Release me, and I'll tell you."

Sirius considered that for a moment, and then signalled with his head for Mundungus and Arabella to get up. Snape struggled to his feet and stepped to the door. He opened the door, stepped through it, and just before it closed, he cast the words into the room: "Your godson and his friends."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

First, they had needed to walk to Hogsmeade to apparate from there. No one was able to apparate from Hogwarts grounds, and since they hadn't had prior knowledge of their target, they could not have a Portkey ready to take them there. Then, they had apparated as close as they could to their target, which meant that they had landed almost fifteen miles off-course. Remus had insisted that that was the minimum distance needed in order not to alert the wizards guarding the house. As Lee was new to this business, and since he didn't want to annoy Remus before they even really started, he had accepted Remus' opinion about it.

Now, two hours later, they were walking in the thickest forest Lee had ever seen. There was no marked trail, and no way to tell where they were going. It was even impossible to see the direction of the sun to determine the east. Remus seemed to be leading the way by some sort of an inner sense of direction. Lee had pulled out his wand frequently, to use the 'point me' spell. To his surprise, they were exactly on course every single time.

The vegetation seemed, if possible, thicker, and Lee's long hair got tangled in a branch for the third time in ten minutes. To his great vexation, this time, he failed to free himself on his own force. He called Remus for help.

Remus took a few steps back, until he was aligned with Lee again. "Is there a problem?" he asked, and then saw Lee's gloomy face and his hand pulling desperately one of his dreadlocks that wrapped itself around a thick twig. "Forget I asked," he said. He pulled out a knife and gently cut off the tip of the dreadlock, leaving it a few centimetres shorter, but free as a bird.

"Thanks," Lee sighed in relief.

"No problem." Remus folded the knife back into his pocket, and resumed his navigation. They had a long way to walk, and he wanted to get to the house as soon as possible. He didn't dare to think of the tortures inflicted upon Sirius, Arabella and Mundungus. He even bore less the thought of one of them surrendering to the tortures and giving crucial information to help the Dark Lord.

Remus increased his pace as much as the dense growth allowed him, when he heard Lee's voice calling him again for help. He used his knife on another dreadlock, this time being a little less gentle and chopping off half of it.

Remus didn't bother to hide his annoyance when Lee called him the third time, all within the breach of only a few minutes.

Lee knew that this could not go on. The forest seemed to last forever, and he was causing them delay. It was either giving up on the search and letting Remus continue on his own, or giving up the dreadlocks. The dreadlocks were as good as gone.

"Can I borrow your knife for a minute?"

Remus deposited the knife in Lee's hand with a curious expression. He watched him take a handful of hair and put the knife to it. His mouth opened wide when he realized what Lee was doing. When he first met Lee, over three years before, he had asked others about his odd hairdo, and they said that it was traced back long before he even entered Hogwarts. Remus felt better about taking Lee with him. If he was this determined to succeed, he might be a considerable reinforcement after all.

A moment later, Lee handed the knife back to Remus, standing in the middle of a small curled rug. Remus looked for signs of remorse on his face, but there was none. Only determined resolution. He turned back to their original direction, and started walking, a proud smile tickling his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ron watched with horror as two mountainous Death Eaters knocked out his two best friends with heavy metal-covered clubs and then heaved them on their massive shoulders. Both titans walked with their loads to the large fire and the far wall of the room, and waited.

The rest of those present eased their wands into their pockets. Ron was almost compelled to use his wand to disable Lucius Malfoy, but Draco Malfoy was in his path, glaring at him.

"You can put your wand away now, Ron," Draco said, stifling the urge to call him Weasley.

Ron was left with no choice. With arm muscles cramping from the number of contradicting commands, Ron pushed his wand back into the pocket of his robes, unable to hide the agony this action caused him.

"Enthusiastic youth, are you not?" said Lucius Malfoy. He had removed his mask to reveal a patronising smile beneath it. He placed a paternal hand on Ron's shoulder, sending the boy into a long wave of shivers.

Lucius Malfoy seemed to either have missed Ron's reaction, or to be used to it. He went to the stack of jars and pulled out one.

"What is it?" Ron whispered into Draco's ear.

"Almost ordinary floo powder," replied Draco.

"What do you mean almost?" Ron was beginning to get an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

"It will only take you to one place. No need to shout the name of the place you're going to. Very practical when transferring prisoners."

"Oh." Ron pushed away the idea of using it to storm into the Ministry of Magic and alerting every possible wizard there. "Where would it take us?"

"I have no idea," whispered Draco, allowing his own agitation creep into his voice.

"Draco, Ron, you go first," ordered Lucius Malfoy. He waited for them to step in front of the fire, not bothering to hide his impatience. They both automatically stood at attention and watched him throw a pinch of powder into the hearth. As the flames roared high, they stepped into them and immediately began to spin.

Their spinning ended seconds later in a large brown room. The walls and ceiling were made of thick cherry boards. The floor was covered with a rug, displaying complex Arabic patterns in all shades of maroon. There was a low mahogany table in the middle of the room, and a large cherry closet decorated its corner. There was something else in there - people - wizards - Death Eaters, to be exact. Six of them. And they did not take well the boys' surprise appearance.

One of the Death Eaters, undoubtedly the bravest of the lot, approached the two, his wand cutting the air before him. It was aimed very distinctly at Ron, while the Dark Wizard was looking at Draco for explanations. "Isn't that a Weasley?" he asked.

"Not just any Weasley," said Draco with feint smugness. "This is Ron Weasley. Our newest recruit. He helped us bring Harry Potter down."

The Death Eater's face was not visible through his mask, but his posture suggested that he was considering the feasibility of the thing.

The only thing in the room that was not the shade of brown was the hearth. It was antique silver and burned with a green flame that was now swelling, indicating that someone was about to emerge from it.

The small group took a step back to allow space to whomever was coming out of the fire. A giant Death Eater stepped from inside flames, carrying the unconscious body of Hermione. Right behind him was the other giant, carrying Harry. Although limp and obviously out of action, both were securely tied up. Hermione's arms and legs were put in shackles, which clattered as she was carried away. Harry's identical shackles could not clatter because as an additional precaution, his arms and legs were also wrapped in thick ropes. The ropes did not end there. They swathed his entire body, making him look like an oversized bobbin.

Ron watched the two giants and their cargo until they disappeared up a hall. Only then did he notice the fire swelling again. One after the other, the flames spat out the remaining Death Eaters, including Lucius Malfoy who had replaced his mask. When the transfer was done, Draco and Ron were standing in the middle of a circle composed of ten masked Death Eaters, six of which were pointing their wands at them.

"That's my boy here," roared Lucius Malfoy. "Lower your wands."

The six aimed their wands to the floor, but made a point of keeping them in hand. "Did the Weasley really help you?" asked the bravest one.

"He and Draco practically delivered Potter and the Mudblood to our hands," said one of Lucius Malfoy's companions. He looked to his master for approval, and received it with a proud lift of the chin and towering shoulders. "Draco's the one who apprehended Potter's wand and Weasley here took the mudblood's" It was obvious from his tone of voice that he was aiming the words at flattering his master. By Lucius' proud posture, he was doing a good job.

"What made you switch sides, Ron?" The masked wizard who asked the question had used Ron's private name not as a friendly gesture, but as a diminishing one.

"Draco," Ron said slowly. He looked intently at Draco's face, looking for the first sign of danger if he said the wrong thing. Draco's expression was completely unreadable. For all that mattered, he could have worn one of those masks. "He showed me the strength of the dark side," Ron continued experimentally. Still no response. "I'm a pure-blood wizard. My family can be traced hundreds of years back. Draco made me realize the potential danger in contaminating our ancestry with mudbloods and muggles. There is much power in keeping our blood clean." Ron wasn't sure, but he though he saw a glimpse of surprise in Draco's eyes.

"And what about Harry Potter?" the Death Eater insisted, although his voice was less harsh now. "We were under the impression that he was your friend."

"He was," stammered Ron. "That is why he allowed himself to show me his true colours, and believe me, they aren't so bright." Ron's speech became more fluent as his explanation progressed. "I do believe that the only reason he wants to get You- I mean, our Master, is because he wants to take his place."

"I knew that!" exclaimed Lucius Malfoy. The other Death Eaters were murmuring as well. The six who had their wands out pocketed them. Their leader came up to Ron and took his hand to shake it.

"You must be very anxious to get the Dark Mark seared on you, Weasley. Did Draco explain the procedure to you?"

Ron looked at Draco for help. He didn't know if a 'no' answer would be accepted well, but he was afraid to say 'yes' and then be asked about it and not know the answer. Draco seemed to have appreciated the position he was in, because he took the attention away from him.

"I have, Father," he said. "We thought that the mudblood we captured would be his sacrifice." Draco tried to ignore Ron's paling face. "This is why he was the one to seize her. Maybe we could rest here for a few days, and then he will present her to our Master."

"You are very much in luck," answered Lucius Malfoy. "You won't have to wait that long. Our master is scheduled to be here this afternoon." He placed what was supposed to be a supportive hand on Ron's shoulder. "You didn't expect to be marked for our lines so soon, did you, Ron?" He was right, of course. Ron truly didn't.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry felt something like soft leather under his head. He felt it with his hand before daring to open his eyes.

"Stop that. You're tickling me," said a soft, familiar voice.

Harry jumped to an upright sitting position. He looked at what he though was a pillow to make sure he hadn't mistaken the voice. "Sirius!" he called after his eyes confirmed what his ears had already told him.

"Welcome to our humble prison, Harry." Sirius grinned. "What are you doing here?"

"Where's Hermione?" Harry ignored the question presented to him.

"She's right there with Arabella." Sirius pointed to one of the dimmer corners of the cell, where Arabella Figg was seated, leaning against the wall, holding Hermione's head in her lap. "So, you decided to play the heroes and come look for us?"

Harry almost said 'no', but then he remembered the real reason he was there - to look for whoever marked him as a Death Eater. That was not something he wanted to share with Sirius. "I'm afraid so," he answered eventually.

"That was very stupid of you," scolded Sirius. "We're now in a worse condition than we were. We're still in their hands, but now they have something to bargain with."

"I'm sorry." Harry's apology was genuine, but not for the reasons he wanted Sirius to know. "What do you thing they'll do with us?"

"Probably turn us all into that ugly snake's breakfast." Sirius' voice was full of jeer. He pointed to yet another corner of the room, where a huge serpent was coiled. It seemed to be sleeping until Harry looked at it. Then, it raised its huge head and hissed at the two.

"Die, humans. I haven't eaten in three months. Die already."

Harry flinched so sharply, that he almost fell backwards.

"What? Did it say something to you? What did it say?" Sirius seemed to be torn between rabid curiosity and fundamental fear.

"Nothing," lied Harry. "Just that it wants to get out of here." He stared at the enormous snake, which started lowering his head, ready to coil back into sleep.

"Why haven't you eaten for three months?" he hissed at it.

"You can talk, human?" If snakes could look surprised, this one would have used that expression right then.

"You mean parseltongue? Yes, I can. I found that out when I accidentally set free a Boa Constrictor from an aquarium in the zoo."

"How is it possible to do such a thing accidentally?"

"I just really wanted him to be out and poof! He's out." Harry's description matched reality much more than it my have sounded.

The snake still glared at him, but its eyes have lost something of their murderous glamour. "No bodies."

"What?" hissed Harry back, not understanding what the snake was talking about.

"There were no bodies. All are either burned to ashes or drowned. This is why I've starved for three months now. It seems that you are going to be my first decent meal after a very long time."

"What's going on?" intervened Sirius. He didn't like Harry's lengthy conversation with the snake.

"Nothing," Harry repeated his previous answer.

"Why don't you eat other things?" asked Harry. He hesitated about his next move, but he was afraid he was pushing it. "I'm not saying 'give up the dead bodies', I'm just saying - have something else in the mean time."

"I have milk," hissed the snake. It tried to look disgusted, but only managed to shift its lower jaw a bit, which made him like a sock puppet.

"I meant for something more substantial," hissed Harry. "Like rats or something."

"You eat Rats," The snake's hiss was louder than before.

"I'm sorry," Harry apologised quickly. "I don't really know what snakes eat. I guess you could eat an elephant." The snake stared at him and looked pensive. "But you probably don't want to look like a hat," added Harry.

The humour passed over the huge serpent's head. "What do humans eat? The substantial food?"

"You mean meat? We eat pigs, cows, lambs - I don't know."

"That's it?"

"No, we also have fish -"

The large serpent tried to retch.

"And birds," continued Harry. He was beginning to feel pressured. "Chicken, turkey, duck -"

"Duck?" the snake interposed. "Duck sounds niceÂ… Maybe I could have some duckÂ… YeahÂ…" It lowered its head, winding its coils into a more agreeable position. It looked like its entire body was flowing, not all in the three conceivable dimensions. Its head landed on one of the coils, and it was still moving its jaws in what looked like an impression of someone smacking his lips.

Harry tilted his head with confusion. His attention was brought back to Sirius, who by now resorted to shaking him. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Trying to pull you out of the trance that thing has got you into." Sirius' voice was on the verge of hysteria.

"I wasn't in a trance," dismissed Harry.

"Than why were you talking with it for so long?"

Harry sighed. He decided that holding one big secret from Sirius was enough, and described to him the conversation he just had. To his surprise, Sirius wasn't at all freaked out by the idea of being eaten by the serpent. Sirius' only response was "Oh, well."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was the first time Ron had seen the Dark Lord.

Even before the tall skeletal figure had removed its hood, Ron already had a notion of why people were afraid even of this wizard's name. He had a foreboding air of malice all around him. It entered any room before him, clearing the way for him like a rolling red carpet. It lasted as long as he was in the room, and a while longer.

When he had his cowl removed, Ron felt his breath leave him. For the first time since he was eleven, he did not envy Harry. He suddenly felt deeply sorry for him for having to face this. A moment later he'd realised that he might be forced to face this wizard too. The thought made him quiver badly.

Lord Voldemort stalked into the room, his posture radiating confidence. "Where is Nagini?" he asked with a high-pitched hiss.

"She is with the prisoners, Master," answered Lucius Malfoy. "I think she wanted to personally guard Potter." Truth be told, Malfoy was very glad the snake was locked away. Its yellow-slit eyes always looked at him like it was considering making him its next meal.

"Ah yes," rasped Voldemort. "Too bad about that." There was an audible threat in his voice. "You took him too soon. The boy is not ripe. He will not move to our side. You should have waited."

"Master, please, the boy and his Mudblood friend found their way into one of our communications centres," grovelled Malfoy. "We had to grab them before they could do much damage."

"Don't lie to me," erupted Voldemort. "You took them miles away from the centre."

"Yes Master, but they already had a good look around, and knew their way back. It was dangerous." Lucius Malfoy made a garb at the hem of Voldemort's robes and tried to kiss it, but the Dark Lord stepped away, pulling his robes with him. Malfoy fell forward to his knees. He stayed kneeling, and bowed his head before his master.

"This is hardly the time to fume about this," placated Voldemort, but immediately his serpentine face wore a harsh facade once more. "We will have plenty of time for that later." He cast his red eyes over Ron. "We still have an initiation process to take care of."

"Shall I bring the Mudblood girl, My Lord?" Lucius Malfoy was now looking for any excuse to get out of the room and have a chance to catch his breath.

"Noooo." Voldemort put much feeling into that one single word. "All the times I had Potter in my hands, I have made the mistake of giving him time to escape. No more. Bring Potter to me. I shall kill him now."

Ron turned completely white. Only his carrot hair indicated that he could have once had freckles on his face. He watched Lucius's silhouette until it disappeared in the shadows of the hall, and then grabbed Draco's arm.

"We have to do something," he whispered. Luckily, the Dark Lord was some distance away and couldn't hear him. "He's going to kill Harry."

"You're right," Draco tried to shake him off. "He is about to kill Harry. And if you want to have any chance of saving Hermione, you will watch it silently."

"What?!" cried Ron. His shriek made Voldemort swirl to face the two boys.

"I already told you," said Draco impatiently. "You will have to choose one gift with your Dark Mark. Be thankful for that."

Voldemort directed what was an unmistakable smile at them. He took a step towards Ron. "Can't wait to join our lists as a full member, can you?" he placed a long white finger on Ron's cheek. His finger felt like it was kept on ice for at least a few years. It released unpleasant shivers in Ron's nape. "So what will it be, boy? What will you ask when you can have anything you might want?"

Ron didn't answer. He swallowed hard.

"Wisdom? No. Nobody ever asks for wisdom any more. Maybe wealth? That might suit you well." He regarded Ron's tacky robes critically. "A small fortune might to you good - but, no, there's something else. Yes, I know what it is you want. I had one just like you years ago. You want fame." He stopped talking for a moment to regard the spark that lit in Ron's eyes. "Definitely fame. Well, there will be nothing easier to arrange, considering whose house we're in."

The sound of dragging feet could be distinctly heard from the hall, they all turned towards it, their contact breaking. Harry emerged from the shadows, closely followed by Lucius Malfoy. Malfoy's wand was stabbing Harry between his shoulder blades. Right behind them was Nagini. She slithered past them and recoiled at her master's feet.

"Black had him unshackled," muttered Malfoy. "I put a very simple binding spell on him." The bonds on Harry's hands did seem loose and rushed.

"That hardly matters," hissed Voldemort. "In a moment, he won't be needing them." He started raising his wand.

Ron shook out of control. He sent his hand to his wand, unable to let his best friend die without a fight. Draco spotted his movement and grabbed him from behind, praying that no one could see their struggle.

"Aren't we going to duel?" Harry tried to buy some time.

"No," Voldemort answered curtly. His wand was aimed directly at Harry's heart.

Harry's mind raced. "Don't you want Sirius to watch you torture me?" he tried again. He remembered how during their encounter last year, Voldemort took great pleasure in hitting him with the Cruciatus Curse again and again while Sirius was forced to watch. His rage was beginning to surge as he remembered the same curse being put on Sirius.

The Dark Lord took one step closer to Harry. "Move aside, Lucius," he hissed warningly. "This might have effect on his surroundings."

The firm hand that had ushered Harry here left his side. The wand that was prodding in his back was removed. Harry didn't have to look back to know that Lucius Malfoy had ensured a safety distance. He felt his heart sink low. Fear and anger filled him. He knew by the expression on Voldemort's face that this was how it ended. He could see it in his eyes.

"Avada -" The killing curse started forming on Voldemort's mouth-opening and on the tip of his wand at the same time.

Harry was overwhelmed with despair. He didn't have a wand, and even if he did, there was nothing that could stop this curse. He saw Malfoy forcefully restrain Ron, and for one selfish moment, one that could very well be his last, Harry felt irrational fury towards the two for not moving to his aid. Of sheer desperation, he mumbled "expelliarmus," knowing that it would do him no good.

"- Kedavra," Voldemort finished. A brilliant green flare left the tip of his wand. It travelled with lightening speed towards Harry. Before anyone in the room could make out its exact form, it hit Harry's chest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~