A/N: Most of this chapter is taken from Chapter 23 for the Deathly Hollows. It has been modified slightly to fit this story. J.K. Rowling owns the characters and would probably sue me if she saw the angst I was putting them in.
"Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback." Narcissa said as she turned away from the scene in front of her.
"Wait," said Bellatrix sharply. "All except. . . . the Mudblood." Greyback gave a grunt of pleasure.
"No!" shouted Ron. "You can have me, keep me!" Bellatrix hit him across the face So hard Harry felt Ron shudder after the blow.
"If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next," she said. "Blood traitor
is next to Mudblood in my book. Take them downstairs, Greyback, and make
sure they are secure, but do nothing more to them—yet." She threw Greyback's wand back to him, then took a short silver knife from under her robes. She cut Hermione free from the other prisoners, then dragged her by the hair into the middle of the room, while Greyback forced the rest of them to shuffle across to another door, into a dark passageway, his wand held out in front of him, projecting an invisible and irresistible force.
"Reckon she'll let me have a bit of the girl when she's finished with her?" Greyback crooned as he forced them along the corridor. "I'd say I'll get a bite or
two, wouldn't you, ginger?"
Harry could feel Ron shaking. They were forced down a steep flight of stairs, still tied back-to-back and in danger of slipping and breaking their necks at any
moment. At the bottom was a heavy door. Greyback unlocked it with a tap of
his wand, then forced them into a dank and musty room and left them in total
darkness.
The echoing bang of the slammed cellar door had not died away
before there was a terrible, drawn out pleading scream from directly above them.
"HERMIONE!" Ron bellowed, and he started to writhe and struggle against
the ropes tying them together, so that Harry staggered. "HERMIONE!"
"Be quiet!" Harry said. "Shut up. Ron, we need to work out a way—"
"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"
"We need a plan, stop yelling—we need to get these ropes off—"
"Harry?" came a whisper through the darkness. "Ron? Is that you?"
Ron stopped shouting. There was a sound of movement close by them, then
Harry saw a shadow moving closer. "Harry? Ron?"
"Luna?"
"Yes, it's me! Oh no, I didn't want you to be caught!"
"Luna, can you help us get these ropes off?" said Harry.
"Oh yes, I expect so. . . . There's an old nail we use if we need to break
anything. . . . Just a moment . . . "
Hermione screamed again from overhead, and they could hear Bellatrix
screaming too, but her words were inaudible, for Ron shouted again, "HERMIONE!
HERMIONE!"
"Mr. Ollivander?" Harry could hear Luna saying. "Mr. Ollivander, have you
got the nail? If you just move over a little bit . . . I think it was beside the water
jug." She was back within seconds.
"You'll need to stay still," she said. Harry could feel her digging at the rope's tough fibers to work the knots free.
From upstairs they heard Bellatrix's voice. "I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? WHERE!?"
"We found it—we found it—PLEASE!" Hermione screamed Ron's name making him struggle harder than ever, and the rusty nail slipped onto Harry's wrist.
"Ron, please stay still!" Luna whispered. "I can't see what I'm do—"
"My pocket!" said Ron, "In my pocket, there's a Deluminator, and it's full of light!"
A few seconds later, there was a click, and the luminescent spheres the
Deluminator had sucked from the lamps in the tent flew into the cellar, unable
to rejoin their sources, they simply hung there, like tiny suns, flooding the
underground room with light.
Harry saw Luna, all eyes in her white face, and the motionless figure of Ollivander the wandmaker, curled up on the floor in the corner. Craning around, he caught sight of their fellow prisoners. Dean and Griphook the goblin, who seemed barely conscious, kept standing by the ropes that bound him to the humans.
"Oh, that's much easier, thanks, Ron," said Luna, and she began hacking at
their bindings again. "Hello, Dean!"
From above came Bellatrix's voice. "You're lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!"
Another terrible scream— "RON!"
"HERMIONE!"
"What else did you take? What else have you got? Tel me the truth or, I
swear, I shall run you through with this knife!"
"There!" Harry felt the ropes fall away and turned, rubbing his wrists, to see Ron
running around the cellar, looking up at the low ceiling, searching for a trapdoor.
Dean, his face bruised and bloody, said "Thanks" to Luna and stood there,
shivering, but Griphook sank onto the cellar floor, looking groggy and disoriented,
many welts across his swarthy face.
Ron was now trying to Disapparate without a wand.
"There's no way out, Ron," said Luna, watching his fruitless efforts. "The
cellar is completely escape-proof. I tried, at first. Mr. Ollivander has been here
for a long time, he's tried everything."
Hermione was screaming for Bellatrix to stop again: The sound went through Harry like physical pain. Barely conscious of the fierce prickling of his scar, he too started to
run around the cellar, feeling the walls for he hardly knew what, knowing in
his heart that it was useless.
"What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!"
"Nothing! PLEASE! We didn't even go to your-" Hermione's screams cut off her words and were echoed off the walls upstairs, Ron was half sobbing as
he pounded the walls with his fists.
Harry, in utter desperation, seized Hagrid's pouch from around his neck and groped inside it. He pulled out Dumbledore's Snitch and shook it, hoping for he did not know what—nothing happened—he waved the broken halves of the phoenix wand, but they were lifeless—the mirror fragment fell sparkling to the floor, and he saw a gleam of brightest blue—
Dumbledore's eye was gazing at him out of the mirror.
"Help us!" he yelled at it in mad desperation. "We're in the cellar of Malfoy
Manor, help us!"
The eye blinked and was gone.
Harry was not even sure that it had really been there. He tilted the shard
of mirror this way and that, and saw nothing reflected there but the walls and
ceiling of their prison, and upstairs Hermione was screaming worse than ever,
and next to him Ron was bellowing, "HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"
"How did you get into my vault?" they heard Bellatrix scream. "Did that
dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?"
"We only met him tonight!" Hermione sobbed. "We've never been inside
your vault. . . . It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!"
"A copy?" screeched Bellatrix. "Oh, a likely story!"
"But we can find out easily!" came Lucius's voice. "Draco, fetch the goblin,
he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!"
Harry dashed across the cellar to where Griphook was huddled on the floor.
"Griphook," he whispered into the goblin's pointed ear, "you must tell them
that sword's a fake, they mustn't know it's the real one, Griphook, please—"
He could hear someone scuttling own the cellar steps; next moment, Draco's
shaking voice spoke from behind the door. "Stand back. Line up against the back wall. Don't try anything, or I'll kill you!"
They did as they were bidden; as the lock turned, Ron clicked the Deluminator
and the lights whisked back into his pocket, restoring the cellar's darkness.
The door flew open; Malfoy marched inside, wand held out in front of him, pale
and determined. He seized the little goblin by the arm and backed out again,
dragging Griphook with him. The door slammed shut and at the same moment
a loud crack echoed inside the cellar.
Ron clicked the Deluminator. Three balls of light flew back into the air from
his pocket, revealing Dobby the house-elf, who had just Apparated into their midst.
"DOB—!"
Harry hit Ron on the arm to stop him shouting, and Ron looked terrified at
his mistake. Footsteps crossed the ceiling overhead. Draco marching Griphook
to Bellatrix.
Dobby's enormous, tennis—ball shaped eyes were wide; he was trembling
from his feet to the tips of his ears. He was back in the home of his old masters,
and it was clear that he was petrified. "Harry Potter," he squeaked in the tiniest quiver of a voice, "Dobby has come to rescue you."
"But how did you—?"
An awful scream drowned Harry's words: Hermione was being tortured
again. He cut to the essentials.
"You can Disapparate out of this cellar?" he asked Dobby, who nodded, his
ears flapping. "And you can take humans with you?" Dobby nodded again. "Right. Dobby, I want you to grab Luna, Dean, and Mr. Ollivander, and take
them—take them to—"
"Bill and Fleur's," said Ron. "Shell Cottage on the outskirts of Tinworth!" The elf nodded for a third time.
"And then come back," said Harry. "Can you do that, Dobby?"
"Of course, Harry Potter," whispered the little elf. He hurried over to Mr. Ollivander who appeared to be barely conscious. He took one of the wandmaker's hands in his own, then held out the other to Luna and Dean, neither of whom moved.
"Harry, we want to help you!" Luna whispered.
"We can't leave you here," said Dean.
"Go, both of you! We'll see you at Bill and Fleur's."
As Harry spoke, his scar burned worse than ever, but as Hermione screamed again he shut it out, returning to the cellar and the horror of his own present. "Go!" Harry beseeched to Luna and Dean. "Go! We'll follow, just go!"
They caught hold of the elf's outstretched fingers. There was another loud
crack, and Dobby, Luna, Dean, and Ollivander vanished.
"What was that?" shouted Lucius Malfoy from over their heads. "Did you
hear that? What was that noise in the cellar?" Harry and Ron stared at each other. "Draco—no, call Wormtail! Make him go and check!"
Footsteps crossed the room overhead, then there was silence. Harry knew
that the people in the drawing room were listening for more noises from the
cellar.
"We're going to have to try and tackle him," he whispered to Ron. They
had no choice: The moment anyone entered the room and saw the absence of
three prisoners, they were lost. "Leave the lights on," Harry added, and as they
heard someone descending the steps outside the door, they backed against the
wall on either side of it.
"Stand back," cameWormtail's voice. "Stand away from the door. I'm coming
in." The door flew open. For a split second Wormtail gazed into the apparently
empty cellar, ablaze with light from the three miniature suns floating in midair.
Then Harry and Ron launched themselves upon him. Ron seized Wormtail's
wand arm and forced it upwards. Harry slapped a hand to his mouth, muffling
his voice. Silently they struggled. Wormtail's wand emitted sparks; his silver
hand closed around Harry's throat.
"What is it, Wormtail?" called Lucius Malfoy from above.
"Nothing!" Ron called back, in a passable imitation of Wormtail's wheezy
voice. "All fine!"
Harry could barely breathe. "You're going to kill me?" Harry choked, attempting to prise off the metal fingers. "After I saved your life? You owe me, Wormtail!"
The silver fingers slackened. Harry had not expected it: He wrenched himself
free, astonished, keeping his hand over Wormtail's mouth. He saw the
ratlike man's small watery eyes widen with fear and surprise: He seemed just
as shocked as Harry at what his hand had done, at the tiny, merciful impulse it
had betrayed, and he continued to struggle more powerfully, as though to undo the moment of weekness.
"And we'll have that," whispered Ron, tugging Wormtail's wand from his
other hand. Wandless, helpless, Pettigrew's pupils dilated in terror. His eyes had slid
from Harry's face to something else. His own silver fingers were moving inexorably
toward his own throat.
"No—" Without pausing to think, Harry tried to drag back the hand, but there was
no stopping it. The silver tool that Voldemort had given his most cowardly servant
had turned upon its disarmed and useless owner; Pettigrew was reaping
his reward for his hesitation, his moment of pity; he was being strangled before their eyes.
"No!"
Ron had released Wormtail too, and together he and Harry tried to pull
the crushing metal fingers from around Wormtail's throat, but it was no use.
Pettigrew was turning blue.
"Relashio!" said Ron, pointing the wand at the silver hand, but nothing
happened; Pettigrew dropped to his knees, and at the same moment, Hermione
gave a dreadful scream from overhead. Wormtail's eyes rolled upward in his
purple face; he gave a last twitch, and was still.
Harry and Ron looked at each other, then leaving Wormtail's body on the
floor behind them, ran up the stairs and back into the shadowy passageway
leading to the drawing room.
Cautiously, they crept along it until they reached
the drawing room door, which was ajar. Now they had a clear view of Bellatrix
looking down at Griphook, who was holding Gryffindor's sword in his longfingered
hands.
Hermione was lying at Bellatrix's feet. She was barely stirring. Ron saw a bloody word cut into her left forearm. He started to run up to her but Harry caught him around his middle and pulled him back.
"Not yet!" Harry hissed. Ron groaned looking over at Hermione.
"Well?" Bellatrix said to Griphook. "Is it the true sword?"
Harry waited, holding his breath, fighting against the prickling of his scar.
"No," said Griphook. "It is a fake."
"Are you sure?" panted Bellatrix. "Quite sure?"
"Yes," said the goblin.
Relief broke across her face, all tension drained from it. "Good," she said, and with a casual flick of her wand she slashed another deep cut into the goblin's face, and he dropped with a yell at her feet. She kicked him aside. "And now," she said in a voice that burst with triumph, "we call the Dark Lord!"
And she pushed back her sleeve and touched her forefinger to the Dark
Mark.
At once, Harry's scar felt as though it had split open again. His true surroundings vanished And his grip around Ron loosened.
Bellatrix's voice pulled Harry back. "And I think, we can dispose of the Mudblood. Greyback, if you want her."
"NOOOOOO!" Ron bursted away from Harry and into the drawing room; Bellatrix looked around, shocked; Bellatrix turned her wand to face Ron instead— "Expelliarmus!" he roared, pointing Wormtail's wand at Bellatrix, and hers flew into the air and was caught by Harry, who had sprinted after Ron. Lucius,Narcissa, Draco and Greyback wheeled about.
Harry yelled, "Stupefy!" and Lucius Malfoy collapsed onto the hearth. Jets of light flew from Draco's, Narcissa's, and Greyback's wands. Harry threw himself to the floor, rolling behind a sofa to avoid them.
"STOP OR SHE DIES!"
Panting, Harry peered around the edge of the sofa. Bellatrix was supporting
Hermione, who seemed to be unconscious, and was holding her short silver
knife to Hermione's throat.
"Drop your wands," she whispered. "Drop them, or we'll see exactly how
filthy her blood is!"
Ron stood rigid, clutching Wormtail's wand. Harry straightened up, still
holding Bellatrix's.
"I said, drop them!" she screeched, pressing the blade into Hermione's
throat. Harry saw beads of blood appear there and she wimppered in pain.
"All right!" he shouted, and he dropped Bellatrix's wand onto the floor at his
feet, Ron did the same with Wormtail's. Both raised their hands to shoulder
height.
"Good!" she leered. "Draco, pick them up! The Dark Lord is coming, Harry
Potter! Your death approaches!" Harry knew it; his scar was bursting with the pain of it, and he could feel Voldemort flying through the sky from far away, over a dark and stormy sea, and soon he would be close enough to Apparate to them, and Harry could see no way out. "Now," said Bellatrix softly, as Draco hurried back to her with the wands. "Cissy, I think we ought to tie these little heroes up again, while Greyback
takes care of Miss Mudblood. I am sure the Dark Lord will not begrudge you
the girl, Greyback, after what you have done tonight."
At the last word there was a peculiar grinding noise from above. All of
them looked upward in time to see the crystal chandelier tremble; then, with a
creak and an ominous jingling, it began to fall. Bellatrix was directly beneath
it; dropping Hermione, she threw herself aside with a scream. The chandelier
crashed to the floor in an explosion of crystal and chains, falling on top of
Hermione and the goblin, who still clutched the sword of Gryffindor. Glittering
shards of crystal flew in all directions; Draco doubled over, his hands covering
his bloody face.
As Ron ran to pull Hermione out of the wreckage, Harry took the chance: He
leapt over an armchair and wrested the three wands from Draco's grip, pointed
all of them at Greyback, and yelled, "Stupefy!" The werewolf was lifted off his
feet by the triple spell, flew up to the ceiling and then smashed to the ground.
As Narcissa dragged Draco out of the way of further harm, Bellatrix sprang
to her feet, her hair flying as she brandished the silver knife; but Narcissa had
directed her wand at the doorway.
"Dobby!" she screamed and even Bellatrix froze. "You! You dropped the
chandelier—?"
The tiny elf trotted into the room, his shaking finger pointing at his old
mistress. "You must not hurt Harry Potter," he squeaked.
"Kill him, Cissy!" shrieked Bellatrix, but there was another loud crack, and
Narcissa's wand too flew into the air and landed on the other side of the room.
"You dirty little monkey!" bawled Bellatrix. "How dare you take a witch's
wand, how dare you defy your masters?"
"Dobby has no master!" squealed the elf. "Dobby is a free elf, and Dobby
has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!" Hermione grimanced attempting to beam with pride for Dobby.
Harry's scar was blinding him with pain. Dimly he knew that they had
moments, seconds before Voldemort was with them.
"Ron, catch—and GO!" he yelled, throwing one of the wands to him; then
he bent down to tug Griphook out from under the chandelier. Hoisting the
groaning goblin, who still clung to the sword, over one shoulder, Harry seized
Dobby's hand and spun on the spot to Disapparate.
As he turned into darkness he caught one last view of the drawing room
of the pale, frozen figures of Narcissa and Draco, of the streak of red that was
Ron's hair, and a blue of flying silver, as Bellatrix's knife flew across the room
at the place where he was vanishing—
Ron's hand slipped off of Dobby.