Chapter 6
The Forgotten Manor
Severus Snape was not in a good mood at all.
He honestly didn't see how things could get any worse for him. Every single one of the other Death Eaters rejoiced in his killing Dumbledore. For Snape, however, it was his worst career move to date.
His boots thumped loudly on the stone floor as he strode through the maze of hallways. Left, right, right, straight, left… he was too caught up in his thoughts to notice where he was going. Fortunately, he had walked this path so many times that his feet carried him along themselves, as if on autopilot.
Before, he had a much more secure position under both his 'employers'. And, while the jobs were high-risk, he was only in trouble if he was found out. His exceptional skills had prevented that.
But now, there was nothing special that separated him from the other Death Eaters. Well, except for his unequaled potion making ability, but that hadn't been needed much at all. He was finally finding out how the other half lives.
The only good thing that could be said was that his years of invaluable service had earned him at least some respect from the Dark Lord. Voldemort had apparently appreciated the caliber of work Snape had done enough to keep the double agent in his inner circle. This had granted Snape some authority over the lesser Death Eaters and kept him in a position to receive a good amount of information.
Admittedly, Snape had some difficulty making the adjustment at first. After the long years of hiding behind so many façades, being back in the line of fire was wearing heavily on his nerves.
One never gets accustomed to the act of killing another human being, as Snape could attest. However, he had no choice in the matter. He did what he was ordered to do, no matter how much he disliked it. So, while he was still able to hide his true thoughts and feelings, inside he had become quite tense and even jumpy at times.
Unfortunately, this was only a partial cause of his current foul mood. Snape had just seen Draco, and brought with him some bad news.
It seemed the protection set up for Narcissa Malfoy was lacking in several areas. After the night Snape fled Hogwarts, his main priority was taking care of Draco and keeping him safe. In fact, he hadn't even given a thought to Narcissa. It had only been on Draco's request that anything be done to keep her hidden. Regrettably, Snape's own resources were far too few to help for long.
Upon hearing that his mother was discovered by a group of Death Eaters, Draco became quite belligerent, yelling at Snape, and coming close to striking his former professor. It was even harder to inform the young man that his mother was killed on the spot minutes after being found.
The silence that hung between them after this revelation, while in reality lasted about a minute, felt like a dozen lifetimes. Ages of excruciating stillness passed as the two wizards locked eyes.
And then something very odd happened. Snape was expecting Draco to react in one of several ways, be it yelling, crying, throwing things, or even attacking his 'bearer of bad news'. But he did nothing of the sort. None of the classic reactions one has upon hearing such information.
Snape watched Draco standing there, now looking down at the ground. Slowly, his former student's jaw clench tightly. And he nodded. Then raised his head, gave Snape a meaningful look, and nodded again.
Snape had been completely bewildered, until Draco spoke. He tried to remember the conversation.
.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.
"Is that all?" the young man had asked in little more than a whisper.
Snape was shocked again, and this time did nothing to hide it. "Draco, surely you must have some reaction?" he asked
Draco leveled a deadly gaze on Snape and spat, "What do you want? Me to weep for my poor mother? What good would it do?"
"Nothing, of course," Snape said, "but don't you feel the least bit sad?"
"Of course I do," answered Draco. "She was my mother. But she knew what she was getting in to when she married my father. If anyone's to blame, it's him."
Snape was in awe of his former student's level of maturity. He remained silent for a minute, before asking, "So what now then?"
"Now? I'm going to kill him."
Snape's eyes widened and he quickly asked warily, "You're father?"
"No, of course not" -Snape was visibly relieved- "I meant the Dark Lord."
"What!? Foolish boy, do you hear what you're saying? Slay the Dark Lord?" Snape demanded.
"He's dishonoured my family," Draco said calmly, though his voice had raised slightly. "First by allowing my father to be captured and allowing the name Malfoy to be publicly associated with the Death Eaters. Then, by sending me on what should have been a suicide mission last year. And now, he killed my mother!" Draco's voice had grown in volume the whole time and he yelled the last sentence at Snape. He immediately turned away and hastily wiped his eyes on his sleeve.
Snape stared at the ground and took a deep breath, trying to refocus his mind. "It can't be done, Draco. Not by you. Some say not by anyone. I've heard rumors, whispers that he's achieved immortality."
"I'll find a way," Draco stated, not turning back to face the other man.
"So that's it then?" asked Snape. "After your whole life, planning to follow in your father's footsteps, you're simply switching sides?"
"Sides? I'm on my own side. And as for my father…" said Draco. "My father is an arrogant fool. I realise that now. All my life, he taught me to cherish my pureblood heritage, and look down upon 'inferior wizards and witches'. Ridiculous."
"What do you mean?"
"It's a joke, this whole superiority of blood. If it's so important, then how is Hermione Granger the best student at Hogwarts? Hell, even the Dark Lord is half-blood, and he's the greatest wizard alive," Draco explained. "My father brainwashed me, molded me into what he wanted."
Snape couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was even starting to wonder if this really was Draco. "I don't understand… how could you change this radically? Everyone knew your path led to the Dark Lord."
Draco scoffed at this. "You know, Snape, if there's one good thing about being locked up here, it's that I've had plenty of time to think. Yes, I sought to enter the Dark Lord's service. For what reason? The only reason anyone else has… power." Draco was now pacing from one side of the tiny room to the other as he spoke. "But what have the Death Eaters done for me? They got my father imprisoned, killed my mother, and are now undoubtedly hunting for me."
"I understand what you're going through, Draco, but I don't think-" Snape started, but the young man cut him off.
"See, I had a bit of a revelation. The Death Eaters don't do anything unless they're ordered by the Dark Lord. So it's obvious that he wants me dead. After I've done everything short of begging to become one of his followers, he pretty much orders my death. It's hard to still worship someone after that," was his lengthy explanation. Draco had stopped pacing and finally turned back to Snape. "As for my father… once I had realised that he had warped my thoughts with his beliefs, I had a much more open mind."
Snape was possibly most confused that he hadn't noticed these changes in his former student. But then again, Draco never spoke much anymore. The previous conversation would have been quite welcome, had the topic been something different.
"So you've made up your mind then?" Snape asked.
Draco nodded. "I'll find a way. I have to restore honour to the name of Malfoy."
"Then there's something I must tell you."
.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.
Unfortunately, at that precise moment, Snape's forearm had burned and the Dark Mark found there had turned red. And it was because of his summoning from Voldemort that he was currently walking this familiar path.
The torches on the wall brackets flickered as he walked past, as if sensing his volatile mood and cowering from him. He passed several serpents, intricately carved into the rough stone of the walls, indicating that he was close.
After one last turn, he arrived at a pair of giant, oak doors at the end of another hallway. They were so heavy and thick that they could only be opened by magic. Snape had always figured it was a way for Voldemort to subtly show how wizards were far superior to Muggles.
Once he reached the door, Snape rested his hand on one of the large, wrought-iron handles, made of a giant serpent wrapped around itself several times. He took some time to focus and clear his mind, and prepare for his upcoming meeting. Between his demotion and Draco's rebellion, he was very edgy, and he didn't see how an unscheduled meeting with Voldemort would help at all.
Taking a deep breath, he lifted the iron ring and knocked it sharply several times. Snape straightened up and waited, hoping the Dark Lord wouldn't test his patience. After a minute, he heard a loud creaking and saw the doors slowly start to open outwards, offering him entrance.
Snape wasted no time and strode briskly toward the large throne in the center of the room. He kept his eyes straight forward and at the ground as he approached his summoner.
"Ah, Severus, so nice of you to join us…eventually," he heard the familiar high, cold voice call out.
Not responding, he walked up to the throne, kneeled down, and kissed the hem of its occupant's robes. And then he waited. For nearly five minutes, he kneeled there, not daring to move until he was allowed.
"Rise," the previous voice finally hissed.
Snape quickly got to his feet and bowed his head, finally speaking. "Forgive me, Master. I was working on your current task for me. I should have come sooner. I have no excuses."
"I'm sure you know how I feel about disrespect." Voldemort stared at him for some time, considering his options. "Hmmm… you're far too valuable for me to kill. Consider this a warning. Your only warning."
"Thank you, my lord. You're far too merciful," Snape said quickly, thankful he wasn't questioned on his exact whereabouts.
"Yes, I am," Voldemort responded. He then looked straight into Snape's eyes with his own piercing, red ones. "Now, I have work for you. My sources inside Hogwarts have told me that Potter did not return to school this term. Which means he can't have much protection. I want him found. While not in school, I'm sure he will make himself an inconvenience to me."
Snape furrowed his brow at this order and hesitantly started, "With all due respect, Master, do you really think the boy is a threat? I taught him for six years, and he is a fool."
"Of course he is," Voldemort hissed. "But he has eluded me for far too long. I want him found and brought before me. Alive."
"Yes, Master. I will assign Avery to this task right away," Snape said with another small bow.
"A logical choice. Be sure he understands the importance." replied Voldemort. He then added, "The charm at Potter's relatives' house will be invalid now. Have them start looking there. And if he's not, have them kill everyone they find."
"On your orders," Snape said. He waited to be dismissed, but Voldemort had something else for him.
"One more thing. Tell Bella I would like to see her. I fear Potter may start snooping around for clues and stumble upon some of our… hidden assets."
"Yes, my Lord."
"That is all," Voldemort told him.
Snape turned on his heel and started for the door, quite relieved at the events of the meeting. He was almost certain he would be punished. He had also expected a more dangerous assignment. It was obvious that he was meant to supervise whomever he delegated the mission to.
"Oh, Snape," Voldemort called to him when he was halfway to the door. "I'm afraid I changed my mind about before… Crucio!"
.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.
Harry Potter sat up so fast that by the time he fought through the haze of sleep, he realised he was on the floor. And his shoulder was throbbing painfully.
He had been having a very vivid and realistic dream about Snape and Malfoy and Voldemort. He didn't know if it was the shock that woke him, or the intense pain in his scar. The latter was slowly subsiding now, but had been searing painfully, as if someone had place a branding iron directly on the small bolt of lightning.
As it had happened, when Voldemort cast the Cruciatis Curse, Harry awoke and sat up with so much speed and force that he tumbled forward and rolled off the foot of the bed. And then landed hard on his shoulder.
He was angry with himself for not clearing his mind completely the previous night, but now wasn't the time for that. As soon as the dizziness faded, he grabbed his wand from the nightstand and raced over to the study area of his room. He came to a stop in front of the table next to the fireplace, where Dumbledore's Pensieve rested.
Wasting no time, he placed the tip of his wand to his temple and focused hard on his recent dream. This was a process he had done several times in the recent past. It was a good way to ensure he didn't forget these types of dreams, which was easy to do, and it allowed him to review them later for things he missed.
After a few seconds, he felt a gentle tug at the side of his head. At this, he pulled his wand away, a silvery strand of thought clinging to the point. He then placed it into the Pensieve and tapped the wand to expel the thought. Seeing Snape's face shimmer in the silver fog told him it had work right.
Taking a relaxing breath, Harry turned back to the other side of the room and headed into the shower. Walking along, he absentmindedly rubbed his scar, even though the pain had completely faded.
As he showered, he tried to replay the dream in his mind, but he found the details were slipping away as quickly as the beads of water rolled off his body. Harry would have liked to go into the Pensieve right away and find out as much as he could about the conversations Snape had with Draco and Voldemort. But that would have to wait. He had something much more important to do.
The first thing he did after drying off and putting on a clean pair of pants was slip into his dragon hide vest. He knew that, if any day he was going to need it, this would be the day.
Harry shook those thoughts from his head as he continued getting dressed. He was going to need his wits about him, and it wouldn't help to start worrying and getting paranoid. He put on a fairly loose-fitting pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a hooded jumper, wanting to have as much mobility as possible. Finally, he pulled on his boots and stood up.
After walking over to the nightstand, he picked up the fake locket and Dumbledore's card and slipped them both into his pockets. In the process, he happened to glance at the two-way mirror resting next to the lamp.
Harry had been surprised to hear from Neville through the mirror last night, when he had just talked to him earlier in the day. Neville had mainly just wanted to see how the mirror worked and tell Harry that they had arrived at school without any problems. Harry was glad to hear the news, and also relieved that his mirror still functioned after it had broken.
Checking the clock, he saw it was half past eight. He still had enough time for a quick breakfast. He grabbed his wand and Invisibility Cloak and headed downstairs.
The whole time he was getting dressed and ready, he was also mentally preparing himself. As he went over what he had to do in his head, he realised this was the first time he was actually happy that Ron and Hermione weren't with him.
Back at Bill and Fleur's wedding, the three of them had had a long talk, ending with Harry convincing them to return to Hogwarts in September. He had also made it sound like he was going back as well, though he never intended to. Harry told them it would be much safer for them and if he needed to leave the school to search during the year, he would take his friends with him.
It was also on that day that the three of them had informed Ginny of what they were up to. She had a right to know, being as close as she was to all of them. Not to mention the fact that she had first-hand experience of one of the Horcruxes, having been possessed by the diary all those years ago.
Upon entering the kitchen, he ceased his reminiscence and brought himself back to the present.
Dobby already had his breakfast set out for him, even though he had awoken far earlier than normal. Not feeling particularly hungry, he only ate the toast and one of the oranges sitting in a bowl on the table. After finishing those, and drinking his coffee, he decided it was time to head out.
"Dobby?" he called out while setting his plate by the sink.
An instant later, the tiny elf appeared before him with a loud crack. "Yes, Harry Potter, sir?" he asked, looking up expectantly.
"I'm ready to go. Are you sure you want to come with me? It could be dangerous," Harry asked.
Dobby nodded emphatically, saying, "Of course, Dobby wants to help."
Harry hesitated for a second, but gave in. He knew it would be good to have some help come along. "All right, then. But I've got some rules. First of all, I want you to be right behind me the whole time, and stay hidden."
"Dobby can do that, Harry Potter."
"Good. Now, I don't think we'll run into anyone, but if something happens to me, I want you to go to Remus' house right away. He'll know what to do," Harry went on. "You know how to find him, right?"
"Yes," Dobby nodded.
"Ok. Let's head out then," said Harry.
He drew his wand just to be on the safe side. Harry tried not to think too much about his upcoming task. He wouldn't admit it, but he was fairly nervous. Clearing his mind, he Disapparated with a soft pop, followed closely by Dobby.
.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.
Harry landed softly on a dirt path in front of a building he had seen far too many times. He looked up at the ancient and now decrepit Riddle Manor.
It was hard to see clearly through the thick fog that clung to the ground, but he could tell that it wasn't quite the same house he remembered. From what Harry had found out in the previous weeks, after Frank Bryce was murdered inside three years ago, the proprietor of the estate had destroyed the deed. According to him, there were far too many unexplained happenings for anyone to own it.
And so, for three years it stood atop its hill, slowly aging and falling apart.
Just off the side of the house, Harry could make out the outline of the graveyard and the small church behind it. The sight sent a chill down his spine, and he hoped he wouldn't have to go near there.
"Dobby, are you with me?" Harry whispered into the fog.
He saw the air at his feet shimmer slightly, enough for him to see the elf for a split-second before he disappeared again.
"Ok, let's go," said Harry, starting off in the direction of the house.
Harry slowly navigated his way along the winding path that led up to the front door, Dobby right at his heels. The grass and hedges surrounding the path were so overgrown that they impeded his progress in several places. He wished he had brought Gryffindor's sword with him, but he settled on using a Shearing Hex to unblock the path.
Fortunately, hundreds of vines had grown across the trail, which helped to muffle his approach. It normally would have been impossible to stay on course with the path invisible, but the grass on either side was over a foot high.
It wasn't until he was ten feet from the door that he could see the full extent of the damage that time had wrought.
The stone columns that flanked the entrance were completely covered with vines that had creeped their way up and around to other parts of the house. As Harry traced their growth, he saw that every one of the window panes was cracked or shattered. Huge sections of the wood had rotted; some had decayed completely, leaving large holes in the side of the house. Further up, Harry noticed countless shingles had either blown off the roof or wasted away.
Harry walked up to the door, constantly checking all around for any movements. When he was in front of the entrance, he reached out to the rusted door handle. He pulled gently, and found it to be unlocked.
"All right, Dobby. Keep your eyes open," Harry whispered, taking a step back.
He raised his wand and silently cast a Silencing Charm on the rusted (and probably squeaky) hinges before magically forcing the door open. It swung inside, granting them access.
Harry took a deep breath and stepped inside. The fog had almost completely blocked out the morning sun, allowing almost no light inside. Once he and Dobby were in the house, he closed the door behind him and wordlessly lit the tip of his wand. The entrance hall was immediately illuminated in artificial light. Harry took a moment to look around.
The entire room was covered with a thick layer of dust and dirt from countless years of vacancy. To his right was a grand, stone staircase leading to the second floor. He noticed lighter areas in the dust, in the shape of a long, thin trail with footsteps on either side. On his left was a large doorway heading to the dining room.
Harry decided to begin searching on the first floor and walked through the doorway. He could tell the dining room had once been quite lavish in luxury and splendor; now, however, it fit in perfectly with the rest of the house.
The long table was wobbly on its rotting legs and several of the chairs had already collapsed. The stench of decay and mold hung heavy in the air. Over his head, a magnificent crystal chandelier swayed precariously from its lone support that still connected it to the ceiling high above.
"Reparo," he muttered, pointing his wand up at the unstable fixture. He watched the supports fix themselves and make the chandelier sturdy. For the time being. Harry didn't fancy having that come crashing down as he was searching elsewhere and scare the life out of him.
He walked over to the china cabinet to his right and tried to open it, but found it locked. He couldn't see any china through the glass, and he didn't care to find out what could be inside, so he left it alone.
Deciding to start his actual searching, he moved over to table and went to work. Using the same technique for perfecting his wandless magic, he closed his eyes and slowly tuned out everything around him. Once he felt his mind go completely blank, he reached out with his senses and felt for any traces of previous magic.
Unfortunately, he found nothing. After several minutes of mentally looking over the entire room, it bore nothing. Harry was disappointed at first, but reminded himself that there were many rooms he still had to check. He opened his eyes and walked through the next door.
The next room he entered was the kitchen. It was in the same shape as dining room. The stone floor was cracked everywhere. Some parts were missing large chunks of stone, where a few of the heavy pots had fallen hard to the ground. The pots that were still hanging above the stove were completely rusted through. One of the doors to the icebox had fallen off its hinges and was laying against the stove, forcing Harry to climb over in order to get past.
At the far end of the kitchen was what looked to be a breakfast room. The table in there had tipped over as two of its legs looked to be completely chewed threw. His first thought after coming across this was a memory of what he and Hermione had seen in the Shrieking Shack. The teeth marks around the legs he found a few feet away looked like those of a small wild animal. This was a small consolation to Harry. He didn't much feel like fighting off a werewolf at the moment.
Harry stopped to scan the kitchen, but again came up with nothing. He also got the same results from the pantry that was in the basement directly beneath the kitchen.
When Harry came back up, he started into the next room, but quickly froze when he heard noises ahead of him. He held his wand in front of him, ready to blast the first thing that moved, and slowly tiptoed into what looked like a sitting room.
He heard the sound again, and his heartbeat quickened. It didn't sound large enough to be human. It was like a soft, steady swishing noise, coming from the other side of an overturned sofa. He edged around it and pointed his still-lit wand toward the ground, where the noise was coming from.
And then Harry froze again when he saw movement in front of him. Something was creeping toward him, just outside the cone of his light. Heart pounding in his chest, he leveled his wand at whatever it was, a dozen powerful curses on the tip of his tongue.
However, as soon as he saw it, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. It was merely a snake. For a fraction of a second, he thought of Nagini, she being the only snake he had seen in this house.
But those thoughts vanished as quickly as they had appeared. It was nothing more than a common grass snake, about three feet long. It came to a stop near the edge of the light, staring up at Harry and flicking its tongue rapidly.
Harry wondered what this type of snake would be doing here, so far from its ideal habitat. So, he decided to ask it.
Concentrating hard on the snake, he spoke, hearing both the words and the hissing noises at the same time. "Hello."
The snake gazed up at him with what must have been the reptilian version of a quizzical look.
"My name is Harry," he went on.
The snake raised its head slightly and hissed at him, but Harry could hear the hissing turn into words inside his head. "How do you know our words, young Harry?"
"I've always known. Are there more of you here?" Harry asked.
"There are many. Though they don't come out much. Not since that abomination was here."
"He brought another snake with him, didn't he?" Harry asked, certain that the 'abomination' was a reference to Voldemort.
"Yes…" it hissed, "what you humans call an adder. A horrible creature. It would hunt around the entire house."
Harry could hear the resentment coming from the other snake, so he changed the subject. "How long have you lived here?" he asked.
"For as long as I can remember, this has been my home."
"Is there a place in this house that you stay away from?" Harry pressed, hoping to get lucky.
The snake bowed its head, but answered, "Yes… the room behind the stairs. No one enters that room. There is a great evil present."
There was a good chance that was what Harry was looking for. "Thank you. I've come here to rid the house of that evil."
"That would be appreciated," was the response. "Good luck, young Harry. It's not often I get to speak with someone from the outside. I have enjoyed it."
With that, his new friend slithered away into the darkness. It certainly was a strange experience, but he got some good news out of it. "I think we're in luck, Dobby," Harry said, turning around.
He made his way back to the entrance hall and over to the double doors opposite the doorway of the dining room. He found both doors locked when he tried them. However, it was more than just the handles; some sort of magic was sealing them as well. He could also sense something behind the door… something that didn't belong.
"Alohomora," he tried, and heard the latch click, but the door still wouldn't open. He tried to think of something else. He could always blast it open with a Reductor Curse, but he didn't want to leave any traces that he was here, lest Voldemort came back.
Fortunately, the next spell he tried did the trick. He slowly traced the doorway with his wand and whispered, "Resigno." The doors unsealed with a hiss and slowly creaked open. Harry relit his wand and entered.
With his first step into this new room, the temperature dropped dramatically. Harry couldn't explain it, but something in the room was drawing the heat away. He was very glad he had worn a jumper today.
Once he looked around, he found he was in the drawing room, which was, much to Harry's surprise, seemingly untouched. A medium-sized mahogany table stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by several chairs. Along the walls of the room, Harry saw a few smaller tables and leather armchairs, as well as a large fireplace and two bookcases.
All of the furniture was perfectly intact, despite the state of the rest of the house and its own age. Even the leather of all the chairs was well-conditioned, making it look brand new, and the wood in the fireplace showed no signs of having been burned.
Harry grew more and more nervous as he walked around the room. Several times, he could have sworn he heard voices whispering to him. However, no matter how many times he looked over his shoulder, he remained alone. Finding the room way too eerie, he decided to scan it for traces of magic and get away as soon as possible.
He could already feel magic heavy in the air. He once again reached out and sensed all around him. When he was ready, he mentally took a look around. And he nearly screamed. Instead, he gasped and clapped his hands to his mouth while taking several steps back.
Harry had seen something. It had only lasted for a second, but he knew he had seen it. Right in front of him, sitting at the table, he saw three people. An elderly couple and a middle age man. They looked exactly like real people, save for a shimmering red aura surrounding their bodies. And to top it off, all three of them were staring straight ahead, their lifeless eyes wide open.
Harry forced himself to calm down and his heart to slow as he tried to figure out what he had seen. He was actually surprised with himself that he hadn't run screaming from the house. The image itself was bad enough, but there was also the fact that the seeing anyone in the old house would make Harry jump.
He knew the figures weren't ghosts, nor were they the kind of echoes he had seen come out of Voldemort's wand. It was almost like an afterimage. And that was when Harry understood. He saw Voldemort's father and grandparents. This was the room where young Tom Riddle had murdered his family. What he had seen was a glimpse of the magic lingering behind after fifty years.
After getting himself composed again, Harry continued looking around the room. In the back corner of the room, he finally found something. He saw a patch of the ground glowing orange. Opening his eyes, he saw nothing but the wood of the floor. Something was hidden underneath the floorboards.
Harry pointed his wand at the spot and whispered, "Orior." He then watched as that section of the floor glowed brightly for a moment, and then faded away, leaving what looked to be a trapdoor sunk into the rest of the floor.
"Ok Dobby, I think this is it," Harry said. He heard the tiny elf taking shallow breaths right behind him. Ignoring it, he grabbed the handle of the trapdoor and pulled it open.
The opening to the passageway was about two square feet, which was plenty wide enough for him. He stepped on the stone ladder and descended into the unknown room. The two of them only had to climb ten feet or so before they got to the rough, stone floor. Harry made his wand glow brighter and took a good look around.
They were standing in a long hallway, lined with dozens of skulls and serpents cast from iron. Harry lit the several torches lining the wall with a wave of his wand, causing the eyes of the skulls to flicker and glow. The good side was the fire quickly warmed him up, helping him forget about the chilling drawing room.
Harry and Dobby started off down the hallway until they came to a large iron door decorated with a serpents head facing directly at them. There was no handle, but it was tightly locked. Nothing Harry tried with his wand or his body would open it. All the while, the giant serpent's head leered at him.
He was nearly dejected when he got another idea. Remembering the Chamber of Secrets, he stared hard at the serpent, concentrating on nothing else. After a few seconds, the eyes started to glow red.
"Open," Harry whispered in Parsletongue.
Instantly, the heavy door clicked loudly and swung forward. It was like opening a Muggle bank vault, though the next room was much smaller than Harry expected. He was imagining a giant room full of riches Voldemort had stolen over the years. In reality, there was only one object inside. It was a tall, stone pedestal set in the very center of the room. And at the top, Harry saw what he had been searching for.
There sat a small cup made of gold, engraved with a badger. Harry recognised it instantly as the one he had seen in the Pensieve last year. The cup of Helga Hufflepuff.
He cautiously approached, but couldn't sense any magic in the area, and no spells or traps tied directly to the cup. It seemed safe, but he still needed to be alert. The first thing he decided to do was check to make sure this actually was a Horcrux.
When he was close enough, he pointed his wand at the cup and muttered, "Specialis Revelio." As soon as the spell hit, Harry got his conformation.
The cup was now glowing completely black, the darkest form of the colour Harry had ever seen. He could just make out a bit of a green aura around it, almost struggling to keep from being consumed by the darkness. Harry could think of only one thing that could cause the magical proprieties of something to have such horrible darkness: a fragment of Voldemort's soul.
Not sensing any immediate danger, he waved off the spell and reached for the cup. Thankfully, he wasn't completely relaxed. He felt his hand close around the cold metal of the cup and lifted it off the pedestal. Then, without warning, he saw a flash of silver from the opposite wall flying straight at him. The next instant, he felt a searing pain in his left shoulder, almost making him drop the cup.
He looked down to see a thin, silver spike piercing his arm. Luckily, he hadn't been facing the cup directly, or he would have been hit in the center of his chest. Ignoring the pain and the blood running freely down his arm, he quickly turned to leave, which proved to be lucky again.
Another trap had set off, sending a sharp blade swinging down from the ceiling. Harry tried desperately to avoid it, but it managed to graze along his forearm as he turned. It had ripped clean through his jumper but hadn't cut very deep into his skin. More blood was quickly staining the arm of his jumper, but he felt it would be best to get clear of anymore traps.
"Time to go, Dobby," he shouted as he started sprinting down the hallway. As he was about halfway to the ladder, he was forced to dodge spells that were randomly firing from the mouths of the skulls. One managed to get the hood of his jumper, but Harry avoided the rest. The soft footsteps behind at his back told him that Dobby was all right as well.
They quickly climbed the ladder back into the drawing room. Harry heard the trapdoor slam shut and reseal itself after the clambered out, but he didn't look back. He ran out of the room and into the entrance, the door to the drawing room sealing itself as well. Not pausing, he flew out of the front door and onto the porch.
Harry started down the path, but was immediately obstructed. The overgrown hedges and vines were seemingly brought to life, creeping towards Harry and reaching out for him. It would have taken far too many spells to blast his way through, so he backed away before he could get surrounded.
"Let's go around the back," he panted, sensing Dobby was still with him. Harry had been fighting through the pain, but it was starting to catch up with him. By now, his left sleeve was soaked through and completely crimson; the other sleeve was getting there. He continued to ignore it and ran around the house and toward the graveyard.
The fog hadn't cleared at all and Harry had to hold an arm in front of him so he didn't run into anything. Eventually, he reached the graveyard and came to a stop. The adrenaline from back in the house was slowly fading away, no longer helping to suppress his pain. Harry slumped against a nearby headstone to first catch his breath.
The next moment, Dobby reappeared and squeaked, "Is Harry Potter all right? Harry Potter looks badly hurt!"
Despite the situation, Harry smirked slightly. "I'll be fine in a second, Dobby. Here," he said, handing him the cup. "Be very careful with this."
Dobby accepted the cup, allowing Harry a free hand. Taking a deep breath, he wrapped his fingers around the spike protruding from his shoulder and braced himself. Once he gathered enough courage, he slowly pulled it free. The pain was excruciating and he groaned several times, but managed to keep from screaming.
The blood flow, which had nearly stopped completely, started right back up again. Some even splattered out as the metal tip pulled free from his flesh. Gasping in pain, Harry tossed the spike aside and grabbed his wand. He was starting to feel light-headed from the blood loss, so he worked as fast as he could.
He pressed his wand against the open wound and muttered, "Medicor," through his grimace. The injury was far too deep for a simpler Healing Spell. Trying his best to focus, Harry held his wand steady as he felt the pain slowly subsiding. After half a minute, he moved his wand away and felt the area with his fingers. It had healed almost completely, and there was no trace of the wound, save for a round scar and the slick, warm blood covering his arm.
Satisfied, Harry turned his attention to his other arm. This one was much easier to fix. He rolled up his sleeve and whispered, "Episkey," while tracing the wound with the tip of his wand. The gash sealed up easily enough, though it would likely also leave behind a scar, as Harry couldn't attend to it quickly enough.
Now that he was out of immediate danger, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a vial of Blood-Replenishing Potion. He had thought himself mad and paranoid for first putting it in his pocket, but those thoughts went right out the window. Uncorking it, he drained the entire bottle and leaned back to let the potion take effect.
There was still a dull pain in both his arms and he was panting and slightly dizzy, but he was beginning to feel much better.
"So Dobby," Harry said between deep breaths, "you didn't get hurt, did you?"
"No sir, Dobby is unharmed," he said, then asked nervously, "Are you all right now, Harry Potter, sir?"
"I'm getting there," Harry wheezed. "Don't worry about me."
The potion didn't take long to work, and within a few minutes, Harry was back on his feet. He gingerly stretched out his arms, and was satisfied when he only felt a mild discomfort.
"Ok Dobby, I guess it's… guess it's time to…" Harry started, but trailed off when something caught his eye.
Through the fog, he could just make out an odd shape several feet away. It wasn't the shape you would normally find in a graveyard. Harry looked around to make sure he was safe, and then walked over to whatever it was.
It wasn't until he was right on top of it that he could see it clearly. It was a giant cauldron, much bigger than Harry, sitting in the middle of a group of graves. He got a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach when he remembered the last time he had seen this cauldron. When he had seen Voldemort rising out of it, back in his original body.
Time had worn the large cauldron into disuse in the two years it stood here. Most of the surface was covered in vines, and the places that weren't were heavily rusted. Harry heard Dobby scurrying up behind him to make sure he was alright.
But just then he heard a very unwelcome sound. Right behind him, there was a loud pop of someone disapparating.
His Quidditch reflexes taking over, Harry immediately dived to one side, feeling a curse whiz over his head in the process. In one fluid motion, he hit the ground, rolled to one side, and popped back with his wand leveled at the newcomer.
And he found himself staring into the grinning face of Bellatrix Lestrange.
Some of her former beauty had returned after being away from Azkaban for so long, but she still had the same heavy-lidded eyes and hard face. Her shining black hair was tied up in a neat bun, so as not to get in the way.
Harry blood ran cold as he felt a weight slowly pressing down on him. She had apparently erected an Anti-Apparition ward already.
"Ah, it's ickle baby Potter," she practically squealed with delight. "The Dark Lord told me you might start poking your nose around where you don't belong."
"Take the cup and go home Dobby. I'll be all right," he whispered, and heard the elf disappear. Though Harry wasn't feeling one hundred percent, he knew he would have to fight her. And he wanted to. Not in the mood to listen to her taunts, he fired a Stunner at her.
She dodged it easily and said, "So, not in the mood to talk, are we? No matter." Her mouth turned up in an evil grin. "If you want to play, then we'll play. Crucio!"
"Protego," Harry counterd quickly, conjuring a shield in front of him and putting as much strength he could into it. Of all the Death Eaters Harry would have liked to run into, Bellatrix was definitely at the bottom of the list. He just needed to remain focused and stay on his toes.
"Abrumpo," she hissed, sending a beam of orange light straight at him.
Harry dodged to his right, but couldn't avoid the spell entirely. He felt something slam into his hand with enough force to knock him off his feet. As he was off balance, he spun around in the air and landed hard on his side. He was almost completely winded, but that was nothing compared to the pain in his hand.
He looked down to see his hand mangled and deformed, and his fingers sticking out at odd angles. He tried moving his fingers, but they wouldn't respond. It seemed the spell had dislocated all the bones in his hand.
"Did you actually think you were a match for me?" he heard Bellatrix' chilling voice call out as he stood up. "You're brash and headstrong, just like that idiot cousin of mine. Except you have no skill to back it up."
Harry felt the anger swell up inside him as Bellatrix talked about Sirius. He wanted to hurt her, to beat her with his bare hands until he couldn't lift his arms anymore. She had slowly made her way over to him, her wand pointed straight at him.
She fired an unknown spell at his head as she advanced. Harry jerked his head to the side, but felt something warm graze the bottom of his ear. He reached up and felt fresh blood flowing from his ear and the side of his neck. The spell had just missed him, managing to merely sever part of his earlobe.
"He was no match for me, and neither are you," she jeered. "I just hope the Dark Lord will forgive me for killing you instead of leaving that pleasure to him. Avada-"
Before she could finish, Harry charged right at her; she was so shocked that she halted her curse. The next moment, Harry connected his good shoulder to her stomach with as much force as he could muster. She let out a grunt and was knocked back several steps, but managed to stay on her feet.
It wasn't much of an advantage, but Harry made the most of the opportunity. Before she could regain her balance, Harry pointed his wand at Bellatrix' shin and shouted, "Diffractum!"
The spell connected with a sickening crunch and Bellatrix screamed out in pain. Her leg would no longer support her weight and she fell to the ground. While she was distracted by the pain, Harry thought, "Expelliarmus," and his opponent's wand soared out of her hand and into Harry's.
"You son of a bitch!" she spat, trying to fight through the agony. She lifted her robes up to reveal her injured leg and moaned in pain again. Her shin was lumpy and misshapen, and Harry could see shards of bone poking through the skin in dozens of places. From these wounds, blood was pouring out; it was so dark that it looked black in the dim graveyard.
Harry raised his wand at Bellatrix, who slowly scooted back along the ground. Harry stepped forward and she continued to move away until she backed into a tombstone. Gasping for air and cornered, she went back to taunting him.
"So what now, wee baby Potter? Are you going to kill me?" she chuckled.
"I would definitely like to," growled Harry, not taking his wand off her.
She laughed again, and said, "You don't have what it takes. You're all the same, Dumbledore's lot. Always held back by your conscience. Your weak godfather couldn't kill me, and neither will you."
Harry must have had some visible reaction to the second mention of Sirius, and Bellatrix pressed on. "You miss him don't you?" she asked with a wide grin. "You hate me for killing him, and for taking so much pleasure in it. And you hate yourself because there's nothing you can do about it. How do you expect to defeat the Dark Lord if you can't even stop me?"
Harry's ears were buzzing and he could feel the anger bubbling just beneath the surface, about to spill over like a pot left on the stove for too long. Each of her taunts about Sirius filled him with more and more rage until he felt he would burst. He had to do something to relieve the pressure.
Harry stared into the face of the woman before him, the woman that killed Sirius and as well as killed Neville's parents. He concentrated all his hate and rage at her, thinking about all the lives she had destroyed and ruined. And then…
"Avada Kedavra!"
.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.
A/N: hope you liked it. From now on, I'm gonna try to update every two weeks, or less. Unless something comes up. I'm setting off to start the next chapter right away, so I hope it won't take long.