What's a Cacophony?
“Enough is enough,” Harry said, pacing the length of the Gryffindor common room, while a sleep-deprived Ron and Hermione watched from a nearby sofa. “He can’t get away with this any longer. Tomorrow is the third task, and we’re no where closer to finding where Malfoy’s keeping everyone!”
“Mmhm,” mumbled Ron, barely able to keep his head up.
Frowning, Harry took off his shoe and threw it at him.
Ron jolted awake.
“I was listening!” he yelled, rubbing his head. Beside him, Hermione looked much more attentive as well, probably scared of getting hit with Harry’s other shoe.
“This is serious." Harry ran his fingers through his hair, agitated. “Malfoy faked Mad Eye Moody’s death yesterday. Mad Eye Moody! I don’t know how Malfoy managed to kidnap an auror, but he did.”
“Yeah, but it’s not like anyone’s going to buy it,” said Ron. “Malfoy’s the worst actor ever. Surely, Dumbledore knows something was wrong.”
“But he can't do anything about it!” Hermione chimed in, leaning forward. “If he knows about Moody, surely he knows about Cedric and the rest of the kidnapped students. But if the other Headmasters find out that someone has been impersonating the other Champions then-”
“Then Hogwarts will be disqualified,” Harry finished dully, crossing his arms over his chest. “Who cares? Who cares about a stupid game, when there’s lives on the line!”
“We talked about this,” Hermione looked around secretively to see if anyone was listening, but the common room remained empty. She stood and approached Harry slowly as if she were placating a wild animal. “I don't care about winning or losing, either. Harry, we both grew up as Muggles, so I understand how hard it is to appreciate the seriousness of this Tournament, but-”
“What about the seriousness of people being kidnapped, Hermione?” Harry snapped, not wanting to hear the same old explanation again.
“Hermione’s right,” Ron said, firmly, standing beside her. “It isn’t just the prize at risk. It’s the respect of the entire school, hell the respect of the entire Wizarding Britain is on the line! Malfoy’s making a fool of us-”
“Which is why we have to keep it quiet,” Hermione finished.
Hermione and Ron stared at him a moment longer, as if expecting him to argue. Harry took in a deep breath through his nose.
“I’m not saying we tell everyone. But Dumbledore-”
“Probably already knows,” said Hermione, softly. “He’s probably waiting for the third task to be over before he steps in.”
“So what? He’s just letting Cedric and Cho and everyone else be tortured by Malfoy!”
“Well, I doubt Malfoy’s torturing them,” Hermione said with a laugh. At Harry’s incredulous look she went on. “I’m sure it’s not a pleasant situation to be in, but I highly doubt Malfoy could torture anyone even if he wanted to. He’s pretty pathetic.”
“He kidnapped an auror. Mad Eye Moody!” Harry didn’t know how to get through to her. From the sound of it, she had already firmly made up her mind on the situation.
“Maybe he let himself get kidnapped, and it’s secretly a rescue mission,” Ron mused, scratching his chin. Harry paused at that, it wasn’t a half-bad idea.
Even still, he shook his head. “We have to find them. I’m not saying we tell Dumbledore,” he hastily added when he saw Hermione’s expression. “But we have to do something.”
“We will,” Hermione agreed. “After our last failure, I came up with a better plan.”
Ron and Harry both turned to her, greatly intrigued.
“What is it?” Harry asked, forgetting his frustrations in favor of this newfound curiosity.
Hermione smiled - a small, mischievous thing. “You’ll see.”
***
“Hermione, this plan is terrible,” Harry said the next day at dinner, as they all sat at one end of the Gryffindor table, a few seats away from everyone else.
Hermione threw him a mean glare. “Trust me, it’s going to work.”
“Yeah, it’ll work as soon as I’ll become a Pure-blood supremacist.” said Ron, doubtfully.
Hermione scoffed. “That’s the worst version of ‘when pigs fly’ I’ve ever heard!" She exclaimed, before shoving two pieces of parchment into Ron and Harry’s hands respectively. “Just read what I wrote, and I assure you it’ll be fine!”
Harry looked over the parchment, growing more and more skeptical the longer he read. Hermione had written them a short script to read in order to lure Malfoy to a secluded area and, well, tie him down and get information out of him. The script, however, didn’t quite seem performance ready.
“This doesn’t even sound like me!” Harry complained, pointing to a line Hermione wrote for him. “When have I ever used the word ‘cacophony?’”
“Seriously, this reads like it’s one of your essays,” Ron agreed, squinting at his lines like they were in a foreign language.
“Well, I’m so sorry that I didn’t consult you two before writing it! If only you had, I don’t know, helped me with it, instead of just whining about it afterwards!” Hermione hissed through grit teeth.
“You made me say the word, ‘cacophony!’” Harry yelled, still caught up on the ‘cacophony’ thing.
“We don’t have time for this - look he’s sitting down now!” Hermione pointed across the hall at the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy just arrived. Draco sat almost entirely alone, besides for Goyle, which was more perfect than they could have imagined.
The trio stood and approached the doors on the far end of the hall, closest to Malfoy, trying to appear casual.
Once they were in earshot of Malfoy, they leaned against the wall, lingering as long as they could. Hermione nudged Ron in the ribs to begin reading the script.
Ron peered down at the parchment in his hand. “Where are you going, Hermione?”
Hermione winced slightly at the robotic tone of Ron’s voice. If only they had taken an acting class beforehand. “I’m going into the corridor, specifically the empty corridor that no one ever goes into, so that we can take care of this very private and secret situation that no one can know about!”
Hermione spoke loudly, projecting her voice straight to Malfoy, who immediately looked in their direction, narrowing his eyes.
“I sure hope nobody hears this private discussion and tries to follow us into the corridor! But it’s such a cacophony of sound in here, I doubt anyone would be able to hear this private discussion,” said Harry, putting an unnecessary emphasis on the word 'cacophony.'
“I too hope nobody follows us! Especially not that Draco Malfoy, because once we get to this private and secret corridor, I am going to reveal very embarrassing information about myself, such as how little money and friends I have!” Ron looked up from the script to raise his eyebrows at Hermione, offended. “Wow, thanks, Hermione. Glad to know you’re always on my side.”
Hermione made a shushing noise. “I only wrote that to lure…” she lowered her voice so Malfoy couldn't hear them talking about him. “You-know-who!”
Ron’s eyes widened. Harry couldn’t help but find the humor in that, his lips quirking up.
Hermione groaned. “Well, not You-Know-Who - oh, forget it.”
Harry glanced at the Slytherin table to see Malfoy had turned away, no longer focusing on them.
“We’re losing him!” Harry whispered urgently.
“Yeah almost like Hermione’s script is bogus.”
“We haven’t gotten to the good part yet!” Hermione said. “Just keeping going, Ron!"
Ron sighed loudly before resuming his line. “If Draco Malfoy followed us and found out how little money and friends I have, I could never live it down!
“Yeah,” said Harry. “Not to mention, I feel the early signs of a stroke, and sure wouldn’t want Draco Malfoy to come and watch me die - what is wrong with you Hermione?”
Hermione gestured frantically to get him to shut up. Harry looked over to see that they had just regained Malfoy’s attention with the talk of him dying. Well, they wouldn’t want to lose that.
“Nothing is wrong with me!” improv-ed Hermione, to make up for Harry’s mistake. “I am also going to talk about the fact that I am a muggleborn while I’m there, and I wouldn’t want Malfoy to hear that!”
“Yeah, that would be an utter cacophony if he heard that!” Harry added. It wasn’t part of the script, but he decided to go rogue.
“Well, shall we go now then?” Hermione asked, though she shot daggers at him with her eyes. After a slightly lengthy pause, she stomped on Ron’s foot to prompt him to keep reading.
“Wait,” said Ron, voice tight with pain. “Could you remind me exactly where we are going again? I wouldn’t want to get lost.”
“I wouldn’t want you to get lost, either,” said Harry, not even holding the script anymore. “After all, you’re my cacophing best friend!"
Ron smiled. “Cacoph-ank you."
“Why, yes, Ron." Hermione was seething. “I can give you the directions. Just make a right out of the Great Hall, then a left, then another right and you’ll be there.”
“Fantastic!” said Ron.
“Cacoph-antastic!” said Harry.
As noted in the stage directions, the three of them began walking to the doors, but not before Hermione added one last line.
“Let’s go then, before I cacoph you to death!” she whisper-yelled.
The moment they stepped out into the hallway, Ron and Harry broke down into laughter. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, visibly fuming, but as they arrived at the abandoned corridor, Ron and Harry still losing it, she couldn’t help but relax a little.
“It’s not even funny,” she said, though she was now fighting back a smile.
“What’s not even funny, Granger?”
The three of them turned just in time to see Draco Malfoy stroll up, his mouth curled into a cruel smirk, and his wand hanging lazily in his hand.
"Well, I guess I hate Muggleborns now," Ron said, calling back to his promise of becoming a pureblood supremacist.
“Now!” Harry yelled, suddenly serious.
“Incarcerous!” they all yelled at once, and instantly Draco became tangled in an absurd amount of rope.
A flicker of fear appeared on his face before it smoothed out into rage. “How dare you!” he yelled, struggling against the ropes. “Let me go at once!”
“Ron, do you have the stuff?” Harry asked, ignoring Draco’s cries for help, as Hermione cast a charm around the area to prevent anyone from walking in on them.
“Got it,” Ron said, digging into his robes to bring out a potion that he stole from Snape’s Potion’s Storeroom.
Draco stopped struggling to stare at the potion. “How did you get that? I thought all of Snape’s potions were destroyed.”
“He brew a new batch,” Ron said, waving the potion in Draco’s face with an air of threat.
Draco squinted at the label. “What does that even say?”
“Veritaserum,” Harry answered, gleeful at the way Draco’s tensed at the word. “We’re going to force some answers out of you.”
“Are you sure this is veritaserum?” Draco asked, taking another hard look at the label. “The handwriting is pretty messy.”
Harry swiped the bottle from Ron to take a look for himself. “I mean…it definitely says ‘serum,’” he said. “It’s probably veritaserum.”
“Probably?” Draco’s voice went high. “What if it’s actually, ‘Poison serum,’ or something like that?”
“Then all the better for us,” Ron answered, popping the lid off of the (hopefully) veritaserum. Hermione and Harry came up beside Ron to huddle over where Draco was bound.
Harry grabbed Draco’s chin and forced his mouth open while Ron poured the potion down his throat.
Draco coughed and spluttered once they had finished, but he was not able to avoid the force-drinking.
“Great." A tight smile came to Harry's lips. “Now, we’re going to ask you a few questions, and we expect you to answer honestly.”
Draco’s grey eyes sparkled with rage, while he bit his tongue.
“Where are you hiding everyone?” Harry asked first, having no desire to waste any time. Hermione and Ron held their breath with anticipation as they awaited Draco’s response.
Draco’s whole face twitched with the effort to remain silent, but it was fruitless. Only a second passed before his mouth spasmed, and he couldn’t control the words from spilling out.
Only he didn’t just speak the words…he sang them.
“Don’t ask me I’ll never tell. I looked to you as I fell. But now you’re in my way. I trade my soul for a wish. Pennies and dimes for a-"
“Stop,” Harry said, utterly bewildered. He was pretty sure veritaserum was supposed to make you tell the truth, not break out into musical number. He shot Ron a questioning look.
“I guess it must’ve said ‘Singing Serum,’ all along,” said Ron, scratching his head.
Harry gave a great heaving sigh. “Awesome,” he said. “Well, now what do we do?”
“We can still…try to question him,” said Hermione, biting her lip.
Harry closed his eyes briefly, before turning back to Draco. “Okay, I’m going to ask you again. Where are all of your victims?”
Draco pressed his lips together tightly, but it couldn’t block the wave of song. “Wou d’Uelzecht durech d’Wisen zéit, Duerch d’Fielsen d’Sauer brécht, Wou d’Rief laanscht d’Musel dofteg-”
“Hermione, it’s useless,” Harry said, covering his ears against the Luxembourg national anthem, no matter how beautiful it sounded.
“Then there’s only one other way,” she said, coldly. She moved forward so she was positioned directly in front of Draco who glanced up at her warily. “We’ll have to torture it out of him.”
Ron and Harry both reeled back, shocked. “Hermione,” Ron began, sounding half-excited half-scared.
Hermione held up a hand to silence him. The boys merely watched to see what kind of torture Hermione was intending. She pulled out her script from earlier and held it up against Draco’s neck.
“Tell us where they are or I’ll give you the nastiest paper cut of your life,” said Hermione darkly.
Draco began to tremble in terror. He flailed around as much as the ropes would allow him.
“No, not that! Anything but that!” he sang to the tune of Mary Had a Little Lamb. Hermione took a step back, confused by just how well her threat had worked. “Okay, I’ll tell you.”
Harry, Ron, and Hermione all leaned in to hear Draco spill his darkest secrets.
“They’re…” he sang, fighting an internal battle within himself to decide whether or not he should tell them. Finally, the cowardly part of him won and his shoulders sagged in defeat. “They’re in the trunk in my dormitory.”
Harry frowned, unamused. “Very funny, Malfoy.”
Draco raised a questioning eyebrow.
Harry clarified, though he wasn’t kind about it. “How could six whole people fit in a trunk?”
Draco gaped at Harry, looking at him like he was stupid. “Magic, you idiot,” he sang.
Harry couldn’t help but feel a little stupid, especially when Ron gave him the 'I-Told-You-So' look to remind him that he had suggested they check in the trunk the last time they sneaked into the Slytherin common room. Growing quickly embarrassed, the back of his neck heating up, he quickly changed the subject.
“So, should we just leave him here or…”
Hermione brushed a strand of her frizzy hair behind her ear, thinking hard. “I suppose that would-”
“Hello? It's rude to talk about someone right in front of their face!” sang Draco, forcing their attention back to him.
They stared at him for a long, distasteful moment before looking back at each other.
“We should go somewhere private, so we aren’t bothered,” Ron said, jabbing his thumb towards the captured Slytherin.
All in agreement, they took several steps back and huddled together like a sports team. “Alright,” said Harry. “So what’s the plan?”
“Well we can’t exactly let him go,” Hermione said, stating the obvious. “Or else he’d run to the Slytherin dormitory before we got there.”
“And then he might hide them all somewhere else,” Harry said, but Ron shook his head.
“I doubt he’d be able to rehide them all quick enough. But he’d definitely have time to put some protections around it.”
“What kind of protections, do you think?” Harry asked.
“Well, he’s not skilled enough to put up wards, if that’s what you mean.” Hermione scoffed as if the very idea was ridiculous.
Harry nodded wisely. “So then - booby traps."
Hermione wrinkled her nose at the phrase. “For lack of better term…yes.”
“Alright, then let’s just leave him here while we go save them.” Harry clapped his hands together, and as one they left the huddle. Harry turned back to face Malfoy, only to find him gone, an empty clump of ropes in his wake.
“How’d he escape?” Harry asked, shocked, as he moved closer to the scene of the crime. He picked up the ropes to find bite marks breaking them apart. “He chewed through them! First my ankles, now this? God, why is he so weird?”
“Oh no!” Hermione covered her mouth with her hand. “You know what this means!”
Ron and Harry’s expressions morphed into something very serious, eyes wide and mouth parted slightly in fear. Simultaneously they uttered a singular phrase. “Booby traps.”
Hermione’s worried expression melted away and she frowned in annoyance. “Stop calling them booby traps!”
“No time to talk, Hermione! We have to go, come on!” Harry set off running with Ron and Hermione right on his heels as they rushed out of the corridor and towards the Slytherin common room.
***
Guessing the password to the Slytherin common room wasn’t quite as difficult as last time, but they still stood there, taking turns guessing under the invisibility cloak for several minutes.
“Death,” guessed Harry.
“Self-preservation,” guessed Hermione.
“Racism,” guessed Ron, and the door swung open. He looked rather smug. “Shall we?”
Hermione rolled her eyes, visibly jealous of Ron’s knack for guessing, but remaining silent as the three tip-toed into the common room.
Harry felt the sinking, nagging feeling of unease wash over him, and he instantly knew something was wrong. The common room was devoid of all students. This wouldn't be a cause for alarm if it were the middle of the night as it had been the last time, but it wasn’t even noon on a Saturday. Where could everyone be? Surely, they weren’t all still at breakfast.
Hesitantly, they ventured further into the room. Harry pulled the cloak off of them so that their movements were less restricted. The quiet of the room made everything feel strangely eerie. Even the stuffed snakes and skulls scattered around, which usually looked comical, looked almost sinister. With the bad feeling in his gut only growing more intense, Harry stopped walking. Hermione and Ron were still moving forward towards the steps, seemingly oblivious to the tension building in the air.
“Wait,” Harry said, the word escaping him before he thought it through. Hermione and Ron looked back, giving him a strange look.
“What’s wrong?” Ron asked.
Harry bit his lip. “It’s just…” he trailed off, not having the words to explain. “Nevermind. Let’s just go get everyone, and leave.”
Ron gave a curt nod, looking relieved before he cut in front of Hermione to ascend the staircase.
“Ladies first,” Hermione muttered under her breath, following after him.
For a reason he couldn’t quite articulate, Harry lingered back, hesitating to take the stairs.
It appeared he had good reason to, for not a moment later a loud, whoosh of air broke through the quiet.
Harry’s heart dropped as he watched a paint can on a rope fly swing and hit Ron directly in the face. He fell backwards, taking Hermione down with him as he toppled off the stairs.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked, rushing towards Ron, where he lay in a painful heap on top of Hermione.
Ron let out a groan, his hands covering his face. Harry gently pried Ron's hands away and gasped when he saw the bloodied mess behind them.
“Oh, God,” Harry murmured. The thick, red oozing liquid stained his fingers, as he struggled to find where it ended and Ron’s face began. “There’s so much blood.”
“That’s not blood. It was red paint,” said Ron, his voice rough.
Harry pulled his hands back, not sure if he was relieved or annoyed. “Oh. Well, then let’s keep going. It’s not like they could have a second paint can or something.”
From underneath Ron, Hermione tried to say something. However, with her mouth pressed against Ron’s back, her words were muffled.
“Stop lying around Hermione, this is serious,” Ron said, as he got to his feet. When Hermione appeared, her eyes were alight with anger, and her nose appeared awfully crooked, a thin stream of red flowing from it.
“More red paint?” Harry asked. Hermione just glared at him, wiping it away with her sleeve.
“You first this time, Hermione,” Ron said, giving her a little push forward. She didn’t protest, though she seemed rather hesitant about it.
The three of them marched up the stairs for their second try. Harry could hear noises from upstairs. Was it his imagination or was it the sound of snickering?
He didn’t have much time to ponder this thought, because just then there was a second loud whoosh.
Harry didn’t think. He merely jumped off the stairs, landing away from Ron and Hermione who were in a heap once more, this time Ron on the bottom and Hermione covered in paint.
“Well, there’s no way they have a third paint can,” said Harry, and Hermione groaned.
“Shut up, Harry,” she said, wiping the paint from her face.
Ron shoved Hermione off of him, jumping to his feet with a rush of adrenaline. “Come on, we can do it this time. Harry, your turn to go first.”
Feeling rather foolish, fairly sure he was about to make the same mistake three times in a row, Harry took the stairs. He paused after every step, bracing himself for impact. But by the time he made it to the top, none came.
Suspicion lacing every movement, the trio entered Draco Malfoy’s dorm room. The room appeared to be empty, however Harry still sensed someone's presence. Perhaps someone was hiding? No matter. He only needed to take the trunk and run.
The three of them stood perfectly still for several long, stretching moments, until Ron, in a burst of bravery, took the first step forward. That was his mistake. He somehow didn’t see the marbles that lined the entire floor. He stepped right over them, sending him rolling to his doom, where he eventually crashed into the wall. He remained on the floor, unmoving.
“Ron!” Harry called, but Ron didn't - or couldn't - respond.
“Get the trunk and go Harry!” Hermione said. “I’ll make sure he’s okay!”
Hermione hurried towards Ron, but just as he did, she slipped on the marbles and fell right on top of him. While clever in a normal situation, Hermione always seemed to lose her head in a crisis.
Fighting the urge to check up on his best friends, Harry lunged for the trunk beside Draco Malfoy’s bed. He tried to pull it, but it was far too heavy. His hands went to the latch instead, and he lifted the lid.
He craned his neck to peer inside at all the hostages, when a cold, drawling voice made him spin around.
“Potter,” Draco Malfoy said, a nasty smirk on his face. He held a beater’s bat in his hand, and from his expression Harry could tell he didn’t intend to play Quidditch with it.
Harry didn’t have time to move. Draco brought the bat above his head and swung, leaving Harry to be consumed by the darkness.
***
Harry awoke to the sound of horns, blaring a triumphant tune that felt awful to his aching head. He opened his eyes, his mind still cloudy from sleep, to see the sky, clear and blue above him. He pushed off against the grass to move into a sitting position, disoriented and confused.
In front of him he found the large, winding hedges that were planted to serve as the maze for the third task. An alarm seemed to go off in Harry’s brain as he got to his feet, shakily, and looked around to see not only the Hogwarts band playing in the Quidditch Pitch stands, but his classmates all filing in.
He jumped when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Before him stood Bagman, smiling joyfully.
“Wanted to get an early start, huh?” he joked.
Harry blinked hard trying to push down the whirl of panic inside of him. Malfoy must have moved him outside after he knocked him out yesterday, and now it was already time for the third task, where he must face dangerous monsters in order to get to the cup first.
He thought of the trunk full of captives in Malfoy’s room, wasting away. And for what? Just so Malfoy can get his second of glory?
He heard Hermione’s voice in his ear, saying not to do it. He knew why he shouldn’t. And yet, with the fear squeezing his heart, not only for the kidnapped but for the fact that he wasn’t certain he would live through the maze, Harry leaned in so only Bagman would hear what he had to say.
“Cedric Diggory isn’t really Cedric Diggory,” he blurted, and once he started he could not stop, the relief of letting it all out washing over him. “The real one has been kidnapped, and so has five others. Sir, I need to talk to Dumbledore. We need to stop the Tournament.”
Bagman’s smile froze on his face, looking very forced, before he let out a laugh. “You kids, and your imagination!” He wiped a tear from his eye. “Oh, Harry, I know you’re nervous about the task, but I promise you, you’ve got it in the bag, man.”
With that he gave Harry a pat on the back, and he left, chuckling to himself.
Harry felt a coldness spread through his chest, as he came to terms with what was about to occur.
It was time for the third task. And, more than ever before, Harry knew he had to win. He couldn’t let Malfoy get what he wanted.
Not for himself, but for Cedric, Cho, and all the others - Harry would bring Hogwarts a victory. Or he’d die trying.