Malfoy Manor
Harry is sitting in the tent entrance, staring at some hyacinths defying the cold, but not really seeing them. His thoughts are a jumble of recollected visions of Voldemort and his own disjointed memories as he tries to work out where the Elder Wand could be, and if Voldemort is in fact aware of the Deathly Hallows or if he has just heard of this one wand said to be unbeatable… If he really knew about the Hallows, would he really have made the Resurrection Stone into a Horcrux?
Harry sighs to himself. He really wishes he had someone to brainstorm with… But neither Ron nor Hermione want to waste their time talking about the Deathly Hallows, firmly believing it to be a children’s story and that Harry’s obsession with it is only distracting him from the real mission Dumbledore gave him, which is to find and destroy the Horcruxes… They don’t understand, Harry thinks. With the Hallows I might actually stand a chance against Voldemort… Without them…
Neither can live while the other survives
A bitter voice at the back of his mind mutters: Why would they care though? It’s not them that’s destined to go head to head with Voldemort —
Harry shakes his head slightly, frowning to himself. That’s unfair, he tells the voice. Ron and Hermione care more than anyone… They’re here with me, aren’t they?
For some reason Severus face flutters unbidden to the front of his mind. He sighs again.
”I’ve got it, I’ve got it!” Ron’s voice rings out in the silence and Harry turns to look over his shoulder. ”Password was ’Albus’! Get in here, Harry!”
Harry immediately scrambles inside the tent and joins his friends who are kneeling on the ground in front of the small radio, where the famous programme Potterwatch had just started, and Harry feels a surge of excitement as an all-too-familiar voice can be heard from the tiny speaker.
”But that’s Lee Jordan!” Hermoine gasps.
”I know!” Ron beams. ”Cool, eh? They call him River. They’ve all got code names…”
They sit staring at the radio, listening raptly as Lee is joined by Kingsley Shacklebolt (code name Royal) and Remus Lupin (code name Romulus).
”As regular listeners will know, several of the more outspoken supporters of Harry Potter have now been imprisoned, including Xenophilius Lovegood, erstwhile editor of The Quibbler —”
”At least he’s still alive”, Ron mutters.
”We have also heard that Rubeus Hagrid —” Lupin continues seriously, and all three of them gasp and stare at each other in horror, Nononono, Harry thinks desperately. Not Hagrid, please, please, please not Hagrid.
”— has narrowly escaped arrest within the grounds of Hogwarts, where he is rumoured to have hosted a ’Support Harry Potter’ party in his house —”
Harry releases his breath in a half-chuckle, relief flooding his senses… He’s alright, he escaped…
”… and here to give his views on some of the more insane rumours circulating about the wizard we here on Potterwatch like to refer to as the Chief Death Eater”, Lee continues. ”I’d like to introduce a new correspondent: Rodent.”
”’Rodent’?” says yet another familiar voice indignantly.
Harry, Ron and Hermione all cry out together: ”Fred!”
”No — is it George?” Hermione says.
”It’s Fred, I think”, Ron says, leaning closer to the radio as whichever twin it is says, ”I’m not being ’Rodent’, no way, I told you I wanted to be ’Rapier’!”
”Oh, all right then, Rapier, could you please give us your take on the various stories we’ve been hearing about the Chief Death Eater?”
”Yes, River, I can”, Fred or George says, then proceeds to tell them that You-Know-Who’s strategy to remain in the shadows has created quite a panic and, if all the alledged sightings of him were genuine, there would be at least nineteen You-Know-Whos running around the place.
”Which suits him, of course”, Kingsley intones. ”The air of mystery is creating more terror than actually showing himself…”
”Agreed”, Fred or George says. ”So, people, let’s calm down a bit. Things are bad enough without inventing stuff as well. Take this most recent rumour for example, that You-Know-Who can kill with a single glance from his eyes… That’s a Basilisk, listerners. So here’s one simple test: check whether the thing that’s glaring at you has got legs. If it has, it’s safe to look into its eyes, although if it really is You-Know-Who, that’s still likely to be the last thing you do…”
For the first time in weeks, Harry is laughing. He can feel the tension seeping out of him as he listens to the familiar, happy-go-lucky attitude of the Weasley twins.
”And the rumours that he keeps being sighted abroad?” Lee asks.
”Well, who wouldn’t want a nice little holiday after all the hard work he’s been putting in?”
Harry’s heart leaps; Voldemort is still abroad? So he hasn’t found the Elder Wand yet!
”Point is, people”, Fred or George continues seriously. ”Don’t get lulled into a false sense of security, thinking he’s out of the country. Maybe he is, maybe he isn’t, but the fact remains he can move faster than Severus Snape confronted with shampoo when he wants to —”
Ron starts to snicker, then, catching himself, suddenly seems to choke on his own tongue and throws Harry a startled look.
Harry shakes his head dismissively and tries to smile good-naturedly, but the effect is surely ruined by the bright blush that is causing his cheeks to burn.
Ron’s face quickly turns tomato-red as well, even as he clears his throat and tries to seem engrossed in what Lee’s saying on the radio, even though it’s the end of the programme and Lee’s parting words have that regurgitated ring to them and Harry is sure Ron has heard them several times before.
Hermione is looking between the two of them, with her front teeth buried in her lower lip so as not to laugh.
”Good, eh?” Ron says in an overly happy voice as he turns the radio off again.
”Brilliant”, Harry agrees quickly.
Hermione seems to struggle with her own face for another few seconds, but nods in agreement.
”It’s very brave of them”, she says finally. ”If they were found…”
”Well, they keep on the move, don’t they?” Ron says. ”Like us.”
”But did you hear what George — er — Fred? Yeah, Fred. What he said”, Harry says, his excitement returning as the blush fades. ”He’s abroad! He’s still looking for the wand, I knew it!”
”Harry —”
”Oh, come on, Hermione! Why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol—”
”HARRY, NO—!”
”—demort’s after the Elder Wand!”
”The name’s Taboo!” Ron bellows and leaps to his feet, looking around wildly as a familiar-sounding crack can be heard just outside the tent. ”I told you, Harry, I told you — quickly — before they find —!”
Ron cuts himself off short and stares in horror at the table — Harry follows his line of sight and sees the Sneakoscope light up and start to spin; voices can be heard outside the tent, coming nearer and nearer, rough and excited voices — Ron gets the Deluminator out of his pocket and clicks it; all the lights in the tent go out.
”Come out of there with your hands up!” a rasping voice calls out through the darkness. ”We know you’re in there! You’ve got half a dozen wands pointing at you and we don’t care who we curse!”
Harry’s heart has lodged itself in his throat. He looks around at Ron and Hermione, mere outlines in the darkness of the tent, and realises that Hermione has got her wand out — pointing at Harry’s face — he frowns and opens his mouth to ask her what she’s playing at, but before he’s got the words out there’s a loud bang and Harry’s face explodes in pain, he doubles over, dropping helplessly to his knees, hands pressed to his aching face that is now swelling rapidly…
”Get up, vermin!” the rasping voice hisses close to his ear suddenly.
Unfamiliar hands are on him, pulling him roughly to his feet and digging through his pockets, grabbing the blackthorn wand. Harry keeps clutching at his face, the pain nearly excruiating, and it’s still swelling… dragging his fingertips gingerly over the swollen flesh he tries to map out his features, but it’s all one big lump of sore flesh… he can only imagine what he must look like… His eyes are so swollen he can barely see; all he can make out through the watering slits are the blurry shapes of four or five people wrestling Ron and Hermoine out of the tent.
”Get — off — her!” Ron growls as he struggles against his captors.
There’s an unmistakable sound of knuckles hitting flesh and Ron grunts in pain.
”No! Leave him alone!” Hermione screams.
”Your boyfriend’s going to get much worse if he’s on my list”, the rasping voice says, and with a pang of horror Harry knows where he’s heard it before… Greyback… ”Delicious girl… what a treat… I do enjoy the softness of the skin…”
”N-No—!” Harry gasps.
”Shut up, you!” someone snarls and then he’s shoved to the ground outside the tent.
”Now let’s see who we’ve got here”, Greyback says from overhead and flips Harry over to his back with a not-so-gentle prod with his foot, and then a lit wand is shining in Harry’s face. ”O-ho! I’ll be needing Butterbeer to wash this one down… What happened to you, ugly?”
Harry doesn’t reply, his mind whirring… They can’t tell it’s me… That’s why Hermione —
”I said”, Greyback growls, kicking him hard in the stomach. ”What happened to you?”
Harry curls up in pain, then gasps for breath, ”S-Stung —!”
”Yeah, looks like it”, another voice remarks.
”What’s your name?” Greyback demands.
”D-Dudley”, Harry lies quickly. ”V-Vernon Dudley…”
”Check the list, Scabior”, Greyback barks, before moving on to look down at Ron instead. ”And what about you, Ginger?”
”Stan Shunpike”, Ron says immediately.
”Like Hell you are”, the man called Scabior says. ”We know Stan Shunpike, he’s put a bit of work our way!”
There’s another thud and when Ron speaks again, Harry can tell his mouth is filled with blood, ”I’b Bardy… Bardy Weasley.”
”A Weasley, eh?” Greyback rasps. ”So you’re related to blood traitors then, even if you’re not a Mudblood… and lastly, your pretty little friend…”
”Easy, Greyback”, Scabior says while the others jeer.
”Oh, I’m not going to bite just yet. We’ll see if she’s a bit quicker at remembering her name than Barny. Who are you, girly?”
”Penelope Clearwater”, Hermione says, sounding terrified but convincing.
”And what’s your Blood Status?”
”H-Half-blood…”
”Easy enough to check… But the whole lot of them look like they’re Hogwarts age, don’t they?”
”We’b lebt”, Ron says.
”Left school, have you, Ginger?” Scabior taunts. ”And what, you decided to go on a little camping trip, did you? And for a laugh you thought you’d use the Dark Lord’s name, as well?”
”Nod a laugh”, Ron mutters. ”Aggiden.”
”Accident?”
There are more jeering laughter at this.
”Well, we’ll see… Bind them up with the other two prisoners!”
Someone yanks Harry up by the hair, and he almost relishes the sting as it distracts him from the pain in his face. He’s dragged a short way, then pushed down into a sitting position and tied up back-to-back with someone.
When the last man tying them up has walked away, he whispers to the others, ”Anyone still got a wand?”
”No”, Ron and Hermione both whisper on either side of him.
”This is all my fault”, he groans. ”I said the name, I’m so sorry —!”
”Harry?” a new, but familiar voice says suddenly from behind Harry.
”Dean?”
”It is you! Oh man, if they find out who they’ve got —! They’re Snatchers, they’re only looking for truants to sell for gold —”
”Hey! Look at this, Greyback!”
A dark figure comes bustling out of the tent swinging the Sword of Gryffindor in front of him. He hands it to the werewolf who examines it with an appreciative hum.
”Hang on a minute!” another voice says. ”Greyback! Look at this, in the Prophet!”
Harry’s scar, now stretched tight across his disfigured forehead, burns intensely suddenly. More clearly than he can make out anything around him, he sees towering buildings and a jet black fortress with a decidedly grim air to it; Voldemort’s thoughts are razor-sharp in Harry’s head again; he’s gliding towards the gigantic building with a sense of calm purpose, almost euphoric… So close… So close…
Harry forces his mind shut to Voldemort’s thoughts again, with huge effort. A sheen of cold sweat breaks out over his skin, cooling his still aching face momentarily.
”Hermione Granger”, Scabior is reciting. ”The Mudblood who is known to be travelling with Harry Potter…”
A stillness settles over the scene. Harry is sure the others must be able to hear his heart beating in his chest.
”You know what, little girly”, Greyback says right next to him and he flinches. ”This picture looks a hell of a lot like you…”
”It isn’t!” Hermione squeaks.
”Known to be travelling with Harry Potter”, Scabior says again, his voice oddly breathless now.
”Well, this changes things, doesn’t it…” Greyback whispers and Harry can feel him moving closer to him, until he’s so close that his hot breath hits Harry in the face. ”What’s that on your forehead then, Vernon?”
”Don’t touch it!” Harry gasps as a thick finger is pressed roughly against his burning scar.
Voldemort’s thoughts are pressing down on him harder and harder, but he forces himself to focus, to not let himself delve into his mind, but to stay aware of the present…
Greyback chuckles quietly, ”I thought you wore glasses, Potter?”
”We found glasses!” Someone exclaims, just as breathlessly. ”In the tent! We did find glasses, Greyback!”
After a couple of seconds, Harry’s glasses are thrust onto his face roughly and he barely refrains from whimpering.
”It is!” Greyback rasps excitedly. ”We’ve caught Potter!”
Harry is still fighting to stay present in his own splitting head, as fragmented visions are breaking through —
…he’s gliding around the high walls of the black fortress…
No, he’s Harry, he’s tied up and wandless and in grave danger —
…looking up, up to the topmost window, the highest tower…
He is Harry, and his fate is being discussed in low voices —
…time to fly…
”— to the Ministry?”
”To Hell with the Ministry!” Greyback growls. ”They’ll take the credit, and we won’t get a look in. I say we take him straight to You-Know-Who…”
”Will you summon him? Here?” Scabior says, sounding equal measures awed and terrified by the idea.
”No, I haven’t got — they say he’s using the Malfoy’s place as a base. We’ll take the boy there.”
Harry’s scar sears again —
… he is rising into the night, flying straight up to the window at the very top of the tower; the window is merely a slit in the black rock, not big enough for a man to enter; a skeletal figure can be seen through it, curled up beneath a blanket — dead or sleeping?
”—What about the rest of them? What do we do with them?”
”Might as well take the lot. We’ve got two Mudbloods, that’s another ten Galleons. And give me the sword, as well. If those are rubies, that’s another small fortune right there… I’ll take Potter!”
Suddenly Harry’s hair is fisted in Greyback’s hand and Harry is pulled roughly to his feet; then they’re submerged in complete darkness and Harry gasps for breath, but there is no air, just darkness and pain… And his scar sears more painfully still —
…he forces himself thorugh the slit of a window like a snake and lands lightly like vapour inside the cell-like room; the emaciated figure under the blanket stirs and rolls towards him, eyes opening in the skull of a face and a hint of emotion flashes in them for a second as the frail man struggles to sit up, his great sunken eyes fixed upon him; and then he smiles…
’So you’ve come at last. I thought you would… one day. But your journey has been in vain. You see, I never had it…’
’You lie!’ he hisses.
Voldemort’s anger throbs through Harry’s veins and his scar threatens to burst from the pain of it. He wrenches his mind back to his own body as he feels his feet slam against solid ground once more.
Peering out of his swollen eyes, Harry realises they’ve Apparated to a huge house — mansion, more like, he thinks. Figures Malfoy would live in a bloody castle — and he squints at the closed gates as Scabior walks up and shakes them; then jumping back in fright as the iron comes to life and twists itself into a frightening face, which speaks in a clanging voice: ”State your purpose!”
”We’ve got Potter!” Greyback roars. ”We’ve captured Harry Potter!”
The gates swing open immediately. Greyback grabs him by the scruff of the neck and pulls him roughly alongside him as he strides up to the main doors of Malfoy Manor. Light spills out over them all as the doors creak open.
”What is this?” a woman’s voice says coldly.
”We’re here to see He Who Must Not Be Named”, Greyback rasps triumphantly.
”And who are you?” the woman says, just as coolly.
”You know me!” Greyback growls and Harry can hear the resentment in his voice. ”Fenrir Greyback! We’ve caught Harry Potter! See?”
Harry is suddenly thrust fully into the light and cringes slightly. There is a moment of silence.
”I know he’s all swollen, ma’am”, Scabior pipes up. ”But it really is him! If you look a little closer, you’ll see the scar! And you see this girl here? This is the Mudblood who’s been travelling with him, and we’ve got his wand as well — Here, ma’am —!”
Harry lifts his head a little and peers up at the face of Narcissa Malfoy whom he can just make out through the tears in his eyes. She seems to be leaning in for a closer look at his face, but jerks back when Scabior waves the blackthorn wand in her direction.
”Bring them in”, she says curtly. ”My son, Draco, is home for his Easter holidays. If that is Harry Potter, he will know.”
Harry stumbles along as Greyback drags him across the threshold and follows Narcissa into a huge sitting room.
”What is this?” the familiar drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy reaches Harry, who is really starting to panic by now; how are we going to get out of this?
”They say they’ve got Potter”, Narcissa says in an almost bored tone. ”Draco, come here.”
Another pale-blonde, skinny figure unfolds itself from one of the armchairs by the fireplace and walks a little closer to them. Harry doesn’t dare look Draco in the face, scared that if their eyes were to meet the game would be up immediately, but Draco seems reluctant to get too close to him and Greyback and when Harry glances up at him quickly, he can see that the other boy is avoiding Harry’s eyes too.
”Well, boy?” Greyback rasps impatiently and the blonde boy flinches away from him.
”Well, Draco?” Lucius says, sounding almost excited. ”Is it? Is it Harry Potter?”
”I — I don’t know”, the boy mutters. ”I can’t — I can’t be sure…”
”But look at him carefully, look! Come closer!” his father insists. ”Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv—”
”Now, we won’t forget who actually caught him, I hope, Mr Malfoy?” Greyback growls.
”Of course not, of course not!” Lucius says impatiently, then approaches Harry himself, peering closely at his forehead. ”What did you do to him anyway? How did he get into this state?”
”That wasn’t us.”
”Looks like a Stinging Hex…” Lucius mutters, then continues in an undertone almost as if he’s talking to himself. ”There’s something there, it could be the scar, stretched tight… Draco, come here, look properly! What do you think?”
Draco sidles up to his father reluctantly and peers at Harry’s forehead, then meets Harry’s eyes for a second before looking away completely again.
”I don’t know”, he says again and walks back to the fireplace where his mother is standing.
Lucius huffs a little in exasperation and seems to take a deep breath.
”We must be certain, Lucius”, Narcissa says, with a delicate hand resting gently on her son’s shoulder. ”If we summon the Dark Lord and that isn’t Potter…”
”Yes, yes”, Lucius agrees. ”Of course.”
”They say this is his”, she continues and holds up the blackthorn in the light from the chandelier. ”It doesn’t match Ollivander’s description of the boy’s wand… If we are mistaken, if we call the Dark Lord here for nothing… remember what he did to Rowle and Dolohov?”
”Yes”, Lucius says again and starts to turn away from Harry.
”What about the Mudblood, then?” Greyback growls.
Draco mutters something that sounds like ’dunno’ but is clearly looking away from the lot of them and staring instead into the fire.
”Wait”, Narcissa says quietly. ”Yes — yes, she was in Madam Malkin’s with Potter! We also saw her picture in the Prophet, remember Lucius?”
”Yes!” Lucius exclaims immediately, regaining his excited tone. ”Yes, it is Miss Granger, isn’t it? Draco, isn’t it?”
”Draco”, Narcissa says sharply.
”I — maybe… yeah…” Draco mutters, glancing at his mother’s hands rather than Hermione before glaring at his own feet.
”But then, that’s the Weasley boy, surely!” Lucius shouts triumphantly and all but skips over to where Ron is standing half-stooped in the grip of a rather short Snatcher. ”It’s them, it is them, Potter’s friends — Draco, look at him, isn’t it Arthur Weasley’s son, what’s his name —?”
”Yeah”, Draco says with his back turned completely to them now. ”It could be.”
The door to the dining room slides open with the tiniest groan and the sudden hush in the sitting room is filled with the echoing clickety-click of a woman’s high heels.
”What is this? What’s happened, Cissy?” the all-too-familiar voice of Bellatrix Lestrange wheezes out and Harry’s stomach drops. ”Oh… But that is the Mudblood girl, isn’t it? That’s Granger?”
”Yes, yes, it’s Granger!” Lucius crows. ”And beside her, we think, Potter! Potter and his friends, caught at last!”
”Potter?” Bellatrix shrieks, rounding on Harry, her heavy-lidded eyes flashing as she sweaps them up and down his body appraisingly. ”Are you sure?”
”Yes”, Lucius says again, his enthusiasm faltering only slightly. ”Yes, we believe so…”
”Well, then, the Dark Lord must be informed at once!” Bellatrix exclaims and pulls up the sleeve on her left arm, exposing the Dark Mark —
”I was about to call him!” Lucius says swiftly and grabs ahold of Bellatrix’s right wrist, preventing her from touching her Mark. ”I shall summon him, Bella! Potter has been brought to my house, and it is therefore upon my authority —!”
”Your authority!” Bellatrix sneers, trying to twist her arm out of his grip. ”You lost your authority when you lost your wand, Lucius! How dare you? Take your hands off me!”
”This is nothing to do with you, you did not capture the boy —!”
”Begging your pardon, Mr Malfoy”, Greyback interjects darkly. ”But it is us that’s caught Potter, and it is us that will be claiming the gold —”
”Gold”, Bellatrix laughs, now full-on wrestling with her brother-in-law while groping for her wand with her free hand. ”You can take your gold, filthy scavenger! What do I want with gold? I seek only the honour of his — of — ohh…” she cuts herself off with a gasp and immediately stops struggling against Lucius, her dark eyes fixed on something Harry can’t see.
Lucius flicks his great mane of white-blonde hair over his shoulder with a jubilant grin and rips up his own sleeve.
”STOP!” Bellatrix shrieks. ”Do not touch it, we shall all perish if the Dark Lord is summoned here now!”
Lucius freezes, his index finger hovering a mere inch away from his own Dark Mark.
”What is that?” Bellatrix demands, pointing.
”Sword”, Scabior grunts.
”Give it to me”, she says, voice trembling with barely contained rage.
”Begging your pardon Missus, but I reckon I found it, so it’s mine —”
There is a deafening bang and a flash of red light as Bellatrix sends the first Stunning spell, followed by an angry roar from Greyback.
”Stupefy! Stupefy!” Bellatrix screams, stunning the Snatchers one after the other, leaving only Greyback conscious. ”Where… did… you… find… this… sword?”
Greyback growls low in his throat, baring his pointy teeth, body tense and ready to pounce, but he hesitates, clearly frightened of the accomplished and unscrupulous witch.
”Bella, what is it?” Narcissa says worriedly.
”Where did you find this sword?” Bellatrix bellows, completely ignoring her sister. ”Snape sent it to my vault in Gringotts!”
”It was in their tent!” Greyback growls.
”Bella, what —?” Narcissa says in a louder voice.
”Draco!” Bellatrix barks, again ignoring her sister. ”Move this scum outside — if you don’t have the guts to finish them off, then just leave them in the courtyard for me —”
”Don’t you dare speak to Draco like —” Narcissa says furiously, but Bellatrix screams, ”Be quiet! The situation is graver than you can possibly imagine, Cissy! We have a very serious problem!”
Lucius moves swiftly away from the enraged woman, eyeing her warily as he joins his wife and son over by the fireplace, automatically curling his hand over the back of Narcissa’s slender neck.
”If it is indeed Potter, he must not be harmed, the Dark Lord wishes to dispose of Potter himself”, Bellatrix continues in a slightly calmer voice, while studying the hilt of the Sword closely, her words trigger something in Harry, a memory:
No! Potter belongs to the Dark Lord, we are to leave him! Just go! Go!
Black, billowing robes in the darkness; black curtains of hair framing the pale face, deep shadows growing in the glow from the fire, black eyes flashing —
Snape, Harry thinks faintly. Snape can save us, he must be in and out of here all the time, he can show up at any moment —
And then what? a bitter voice pipes up from the back of Harry’s mind. What can he possibly do to help, without blowing his cover?
”But if he finds out… I must — I must know —” Bellatrix looks up swiftly and pins her sister with a fierce look, ”The prisoners must be placed in the cellar, while I think what to do!”
”This is my house, Bella, you don’t give orders in my —!”
Lucius ducks his head and seems to whisper something in her ear, but is drowned by another shriek from Bellatrix who looks positively livid, and red sparks sputter from the tip of her wand, burning tiny holes in the carpet, ”Just do it! You have no idea of the danger we’re in!”
”Greyback”, Lucius says after a tense moment of silence. ”Will you escort the prisoners to the cellar.”
”Wait”, Bellatrix says swiftly. ”All except… except for the Mudblood.”
”No!” Ron shouts. ”You can have me, keep me!”
Bellatrix swings her hand back and strikes him hard across the face, the sound of flesh connecting with flesh echoeing in the big room.
”If she dies under questioning, I’ll take you next”, Bellatrix says. ”Blood-traitor is next to Mudblood in my book…”
Greyback all but pushes them down a steep flight of stairs and then shoves them unceremoniously into a dark room and slams the door shut. A guttural, drawn-out scream can soon be heard from directly above them.
”Hermione!” Ron bellows. ”Hermione!”
”Be quiet!” Harry gasps. ”Shut up, Ron, we need to work out a way —”
”HERMIONE! HERMIONE!”
”We need a plan, Ron, stop yelling —!”
”Harry?” a whisper comes out of the darkness, startling him and he whirls around, staring intently into the darkness, sensing a shadow moving closer to them. ”Ron? Is that you?”
”Luna?”
”Yes, it’s me! Oh, no, I so hoped that you wouldn’t be caught!”
Hermione screams again from overhead, and now they can hear Bellatrix matching her scream for scream, a demanding tone to her voice, but Harry can’t make out the words and when Ron starts shouting Hermione’s name again it’s definitely impossible to hear what she’s asking.
”Luna, can you help untie our hands, d’you think —?” Harry asks.
”Oh, yes, we have a nail for breaking through things… Mr Ollivander? Do you have the nail —? Thank you!”
Harry can feel Luna’s hands fumble around his tied-up wrists, a piece of rusty metal scratching against his skin after a while.
”Oh, sorry”, she whispers when the nail slips on the rope and jabs him particularly hard. ”I can’t see what I’m doing…”
Ron stops yelling and tells her to get the Deluminator out of his pocket. Within seconds the room is flooded with light. Luna’s eyes appear even bigger and dreamier than ever, as if she hasn’t seen daylight in weeks… Harry’s stomach churns unpleasantly, that’s because she hasn’t…
He looks around the rest of the room, seeing the old wandmaker, Mr Ollivander, curled up in a corner and peering up at them all. Next to Ron, Dean and Griphook the goblin are tied together, Griphook slumped forward and barely conscious, Dean trying to support his weight with his arm bent at an odd angle.
”Oh, that’s much better, Ron, thanks”, Luna says pleasantly and continues hacking away at the rope around Harry’s wrists with the nail. ”Hello, Dean!”
”You are a lying, filthy Mudblood!” Bellatrix voice can be heard from overhead. ”You have been in my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth! Tell the truth!”
Another terrible scream —
”HERMIONE!” Ron shouts, voice raw and cracking.
”What else did you take?” Bellatrix bellows. ”What else have you got? Tell me the truth, or I swear I will gut you with this knife and let Greyback snack on whatever falls out —!”
Ron, having run around the room several times looking for a hidden way out, now starts hoping in jerky half-circles and for a moment Harry thinks he’s gone insane, but then he realises that he’s trying to Disapparate without a wand.
”What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME!” Bellatrix shrieks. ”CRUCIO!”
Harry’s heart jumps into his throat and he starts running up and down the length of the room as well, feeling along the wall, searching in panic for a trapdoor or anything that might help them escape the room and rescue Hermoine —
”There’s no way out”, Luna says unhelpfully. ”I tried when I first got here, and Mr Ollivander has been here for ages, he’s tried everything…”
Harry pats himself down and finding the pouch around his neck, he starts groping inside it: pulling out Dumbledore’s Snitch and shaking it, hoping for something, anything, but the Snitch remains shut… he waves the broken halves of the phoenix wand uselessly, nothing happens… suddenly the mirror shard clatters to the floor and glancing down at it, Harry’s heart leaps in his chest, because he’s sure he just saw flash of blue — a glimpse of Dumbledore’s eye —
”Help us!” he yells in desperation. ”We’re in the cellar of Malfoy Manor, please, help us!”
”Please”, Hermione cries overhead. ”We’ve never been inside your vault! It isn’t the real sword, it’s a copy, just a copy!”
”A copy!” Bellatrix screeches. ”A likely story!”
”But we can find out easily”, Lucius voice can be heard. ”Draco, fetch that goblin from the cellar! He can tell us if the sword is a fake or not!”
Harry quickly stoops down and grabs Griphook gently by his tiny shoulders and shakes him urgently, ”Griphook! You must tell them the sword is a fake, they mustn’t know it’s the real one, please —”
Hurried steps can be heard coming down the stone steps and approaching the door. Harry jumps back from the goblin, just as Ron clicks the Deluminator again, leaving the room in total darkness once more.
”Stand b-back —!” Draco’s frightened voice can be heard from the other side of the door. ”Line up against the back wall, don’t try anything, or I’ll — I’ll k- kill you!”
The door creaks open and the faint light from Draco’s wand seems to float towards them, his ghostly pale face floating just behind it, mouth set in a determined line even as his eyes flicker wildly around the room. He grabs the goblin by the arm and drags him along the floor as he backs out of the room again.
The door slams shut again, at the exact same time as a crack can be heard inside the room. Ron clicks the Deluminator and releases the three balls of light again, revealing Dobby the house-elf standing in the middle of the floor. His enormous tennis-ball-shaped eyes peer up at Harry, his tiny body trembling all over.
”Harry Potter”, he squeaks. ”Dobby has come to rescue you.”
”You can Disapparate out of this cellar? And you can take humans with you?”
Dobby nods, his great big ears flapping with the movement.
”Right”, Harry says hurriedly as Hermoine can be heard sobbing above them. ”Dobby, I want you to take Luna, Dean and Mr Ollivander and take them to — take them to —”
”Bill and Fleur’s”, Ron says. ”Shell Cottage, on the outskirts of Tinworth!”
”Yes”, Harry says. ”And then come back for us. Can you do that, Dobby?”
”Of course, Harry Potter”, Dobby whispers, running over to Mr Ollivander immediately and seizing the man’s hand before holding out his other hand towards Dean and Luna.
”Harry, we can’t leave you —” Dean starts to protest.
”Go, both of you!” Harry demands. ”We’ll see you at Shell Cottage in a bit!”
Harry’s scar sears in pain again and suddenly he isn’t looking down on Dobby and Mr Ollivander, but at another man, just as old and thin and frail-looking as Mr Ollivander is now, but unlike Ollivander this man is laughing bitterly.
”Kill me then, Voldemort, I welcome death! But my death will not bring you what you seek… there is so much you don’t understand…”
Harry feels Voldemort’s fury, but when Hermoine screams again he forces his mind shut and his eyes open.
”Go!” he beseeches Luna and Dean, who both nod and reaches for Dobby’s out-stretched hand, and with another crack all four of them vanish.
”What was that?” Lucius shouts over their heads. ”Did you hear that? That noise? It sounded like it came from the cellar —!”
Harry and Ron stare at each other.
”Draco —”
”No”, Narcissa says swiftly. ”Call Wormtail, make him go and check!”
”We’re going to have to tackle him”, Harr whispers to Ron who nods in understanding; they have no choice, as soon as anyone enters the room now and realises it’s missing three of its’ prisoners, they’re done for. ”Leave the lights on”, Harry adds.
They back up against the wall on either side of the door, listening for approaching footsteps and holding their breaths.
”Stand back!” the familiar squeak of Peter Pettigrew can be heard through the door. ”Stand away from the door, I am coming in!”
The door flies open and for a moment Wormtail stands frozen in shock on the threshold, staring into a seemingly empty room, mysteriously ablaze with light from three miniature suns floating in mid-air.
Ron and Harry then launch themselves on the small man, Ron seizing his arm and twisting it painfully behind his back while Harry slaps his hand over his mouth, muffling his startled scream. The silvery hand shoots up and grasps Harry’s throat and squeezes —
”What is it?” Lucius calls from the top of the stairs.
”Nothing!” Ron calls back in a rather passable imitation of Wormtail’s whiny, wheezy voice. ”All clear!”
Harry scrabbles with his free hand, clawing at Wormtail’s silver one as it tightens on his throat, ”You going to kill me?” he gasps quietly. ”After I saved your life? You owe me, Wormtail!”
Suddenly the silver fingers slacken, surprising Harry who really hadn’t expected to get a reaction, and looking into the short, plump man’s watery eyes, Harry realises that he’d been just as surprised by his own reaction as Harry had. The eyes widen further, looking properly terrified, but they’re not fixed on Harry’s own eyes anymore but rather staring in horror at the silver hand… Harry frowns in confusion…
The silver hand snaps into place upon Wormtail’s own throat and starts squeezing again.
”No —” Harry gasps, trying to prise the fingers off.
Ron releases Wormtail’s arm and together he and Harry try to pull the crushing metal fingers from around the man’s throat, but it’s no use: Pettigrew’s eyes are popping, his face turning rapidly blue… He drops to his knees, then falls over and crumbles in a lifeless heap at their feet…
Harry and Ron exchange a look, but with Hermoine’s sobs growing louder and louder there really is no time to waste… they bolt out of the room and up the steep stairs, then cautiously creep along the shadowy passageway leading to the sitting room, sidling silently up to the door which stands ajar.
Bellatrix has abandoned Hermione in a heap on the floor and is towering over Griphook and the sword, waiting for the his verdict. Hermione is sobbing, as Greyback hovers nearby, leering at her and licking his lips.
”Well”, Bellatrix demands. ”Is it the true sword?”
”No”, Griphook says weakly, but clearly. ”It is a fake.”
Relief breaks out in the woman’s face, the ugly scowl clearing like a blanket of clouds after a storm and with a lazy flick of her wand she makes another deep gash appear on the goblin’s face, before she kicks him aside and rounds on the others with a triumphant grin, ”Now we can summon the Dark Lord!”
Harry’s scar bursts open with pain and the sight of Bellatrix pressing her finger against the hideous Dark Mark branded into her pale skin dissolves and instead he is once again staring down at the old man with the toothless grin… and he is enraged at the summons — he has warned them, he has told them to summon him for nothing less than Potter! If they are mistaken…
”Kill me then!” the old man demands. ”You will not win, you cannot win! That wand will never, ever be yours —”
Voldemort’s fury soars; a burst of green lights floods the small cell and the frail old body is lifted from the hard bed and arches into the air, before falling back down, lifeless…
He turns to the window, his wratch barely contained… Oh, how they will suffer, if they have summoned him in vain, if they are mistaken, his retribution will be swift and severe, make no mistake…
”I think we can dispose of the Mudblood”, Bellatrix voice breaks through the jumble of images and erratic emotions coursing through Harry and he tries to shut his mind again, tries to focus…
”Greyback, you may take her —” Bellatrix says.
”NOOOOO —!” Ron’s guttural scream sounds as he bursts into the sitting room; Bellatrix spins around in shock and raises her wand, but Ron has already got Wormtail’s wand trained on her and he bellows ”Expelliarmus!”
Harry, who runs into the room tight on Ron’s heel, catches Bellatrix’s wand as it flies out of her hand and swings around to face the rest of the Malfoy’s and Greyback who has jumped to his feet, ”Stupify!”
Lucius Malfoy collapses on the heath; Harry throws himself onto the floor, barely dodging the hexes from Narcissa’s and Draco’s wands, sending another Stunning spell at Greyback before he has a chance to pounce on Hermoine, Harry rolls around and scrambles to his feet, taking aim at Narcissa —
”STOP OR SHE DIES —!”
Harry wheels around in panic; Bellatrix has scooped up Hermione’s unconscious form and is holding a small silver knife pressed against her throat, ”Drop your wands… Drop them, or we’ll see just how dirty her blood is…”
Harry glances sideways at Ron; he is standing stock still, staring in horror at the knife blade pressing into the skin of Hermione’s neck, Wormtail’s wand still clutched tightly in his hand…
”Drop them!” Bellatrix screeches, and a thin line of blood beads appear on Hermoine’s neck, ”All right!” Harry shouts, tossing Bellatrix’s wand onto the floor.
Another clatter tells him Ron has done the same with Wormtail’s wand.
Bellatrix sneers, ”Very good… Draco, pick them up… The Dark Lord is on his way, Harry Potter, your death approaches!”
Harry knows it to be true; his scar is pulsing with pain, and at the back of his mind he is aware of an endless stretch of sea over which he is flying, closer and closer, soon he’ll be close enough to Apparate…
”Now”, Bellatrix says softly, as Draco hurries back to his mother’s side with both Bellatrix’s and Wormtail’s wands clutched tightly in his hand. ”Cissy, I think we ought to tie these two up again, while Greyback takes care of the girl…”
Draco looks over at his mother with terrified look on his face that seems to annoy her slightly, since she frowns back coldly, and he swallows convulsively a couple of times, his face paling beyond white and turning an ashen grey as he reluctantly peers over at Greyback who is now baring his pointed teeth again, his yellow eyes trained on Hermione… Harry’s blood runs cold, his mind is a blank, the only thing he can think is how hard his heart hammers in his chest and how close Voldemort is —
A squeaking noise can suddenly be heard from high above them, and Harry tilts his head back and looks up; the huge chandelier seems to be trembling, and then it gives a loud creak and begins to fall, and Bellatrix who is standing right underneath it has to dive to the side in order to avoid being crushed, releasing Hermione who crumbles on top of Griphook and the Sword of Gryffindor… The chandelier hits the stone floor and shards of crystal fly in all directions; Draco doubles over, his wand-free hand going up to cover one half of his face where several gashes can be seen, blood seeping through his fingers…
Ron runs over to Hermione and hoists her body up in a half-embrace, and gripping the Sword of Gryffindor in his free hand —
Harry leaps over the armchair standing between him and the Malfoy’s and knocks Draco completely to the floor, wrestling the wands from him and pointing all three at Greyback he shouts ”Stupify!”and the werewolf is knocked off his feet by the triple spell and smashes against the far wall with a horrible crunching sound of bones breaking —
Narcissa has got her arms around Draco and is dragging him out of the way of further harm while yelling for her husband, although the man is still out cold on the floor… Bellatrix fumbles for the knife on the floor, her eyes mad with fury —
”Dobby!” Narcissa screams suddenly, staring in outrage towards the other end of the room, ”You! You made the chandelier fall —!”
”You must not hurt Harry Potter!” the house-elf squeaks and points a trembling finger at his former mistress.
”Kill him, Cissy!” Bellatrix bellows, but there’s another loud crack and Narcissa’s wand goes flying across the room. ”You dirty little monkey! How dare you take a witch’s wand, how dare you defy your masters!”
”Dobby has no masters!” the elf squeals furiously, even as his tiny body is shaking in fright and his eyes shine with determination and pride. ”Dobby is a free elf — and he has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!”
Harry is aware that they have only seconds until Voldemort is on the scene and tosses one of the wands to Ron, then gripping the unconscious goblin in one hand and seizing Dobby’s hand with the other, he spins on the spot, thinking desperately, Bill and Fleur’s place… Shell cottage…
Before he feels the familiar pull behind his navel and darkness swallows them, Harry catches one last view of the Malfoy sitting room; the frozen figures of Narcissa and Draco, the streak of red that is Ron’s hair before he and Hermione also Disapparated, and something silvery flying out of Bellatrix’s hand and soaring towards them —
The darkness squeezes the air out of him, his scar is searing in pain, a layer of cold sweat chills his skin; the goblin weighs down on him and Dobby’s hand twitches in his —
Solid ground springs up to meet them and Harry staggers under the weight of both Griphook and Dobby, who seems to fainted as well… Harry’s knees buckle and he drops to the ground, gently laying Griphook down in the grass so that he can grab Dobby with both hands — and that’s when he sees it…
”No! Dobby —!” Harry gasps in horror, hugging the small house-elf’s body closer, trying to fit his hand around Bellatrix’s dagger that is buried to the hilt in Dobby’s abdomen, desperately trying to stop the blood flow, vaguely aware of a tiny hand clutching his elbow weakly… This isn’t happening… This isn’t happening… ”Dobby, hang in there, okay? You’re going to be fine! Hermione has dittany in her — in her bag — Hermione!”
The lids over Dobby’s big tennis-ball eyes flutter and his weak grip on Harry’s arm loosens more and more, until finally his tiny hand falls limply to his side.
”HERMIONE! RON! ANYONE, HELP!”
Dobby’s body gives a shudder, his shining eyes roll back slightly in his head but then, with seemingly great effort, the elf fixes them upon Harry’s again.
”No, Dobby, don’t die… please, don’t die…”
”Harry… Potter…”
With one last shudder, the tiny body finally goes limp in Harry’s arms and he stares in mute horror at the big glossy orbs, reflecting the stars overhead but definitely not seeing them anymore; Harry feels himself start to shake, but it’s not until Dobby’s slack face blurs in front of him that he realises he’s crying violently; a half-strangled sob tears itself out of his throat and seems to echo in the night.
He’s vaguely aware of people running up to them, then stopping at a polite distance as Harry hugs Dobby’s lifeless body closer and cries.
Someone approaches cautiously and carefully maneouvres the wounded Griphook away from him. Someone else starts talking about burials and Harry nods, but refuses to let go of Dobby’s body… not yet… not yet… he thinks, then: no more… no more…
His grief swells and swells, then distorts into rage, and for a moment he thinks he must have accidentally let Voldemort in again, but no… no, he is Harry… Although Voldemort is still the reason for his rage, it is his own rage, his own hatred, not a borrowed one this time; he hates Bellatrix, he hates Greyback, and most of all he hates Voldemort… no more deaths, he thinks furiously. No more. I won’t allow it.