This chapter is about what is going on elsewhere in the wizarding world. I thought I'd wake our favorite couple up, and then switch to what's happening on Ron and Harry's side of the wood. Also, this chapter is dedicated to Trista and Trixie Hal. May they never tell lies!
Draco was on one knee, holding a velvet box in his hand. Hermione, beautiful as ever stood above him chewing her lip in anticipation. He leaned forward and opened the box. Hermione made a gagging noise and threw her hands up to her mouth. She shook her head at him, her curls bouncing wildly, as she ran for the bathroom.
Draco sprang from the couch, awakened by Hermione vomiting. His breathing was ragged, and he was clutching his heart. Thank God it was just a dream. He thought. Or a nightmare if really is appalled by me. Draco threw off his heavy blanket and walked in the bathroom to see a disheveled Hermione slouched on the marble floor in front of the toilet. He reached over and pulled back her bushy hair.
"Thanks," she mumbled.
"You're welcome," Draco replied. He smoothed down her hair and helped her up. She looked up at him with a loving smile, then turned towards the sink.
"Crap, need a toothbrush," she muttered.
Draco waved his wand and transfigured the bar of soap into toothpaste and the holder into a toothbrush.
"There you go, brand new," he chuckled. "When you're done, get dressed because we're going shopping today!"
()()()()()()()()
Harry was pacing back and forth in the Room of Requirement. He had the locket destroyed, but still had the cup and the diadem. The sword of Godric Gryffindor was left with Bill and Fleur at Shell Cottage in their safe. He gazed around the room that had been his home along with many others escaping Snape's reign. He'd come in through the Hog's Head two day's earlier, and Neville had welcomed him with warm arms. The room had popped in another hammock decorated in reds and golds for Harry, and a safe for the Horcruxes.
"Are you sure that we can't help Harry?" Neville approached.
"Actually, I think you can," Harry did not want to divulge Dumbledore's quest, but if Neville could distract the Death Eaters from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom long enough for him to procure the Basilisk fangs, then that was fine with him. Neville waved over a group of five Gryffindor's and two Hufflepuffs.
"Okay, here's what you need to do…"
()()()()()()()()
Ron was entranced with the Death Eater beauty standing outside his home. He was so intoxicated with Amortentia, that he would feel overwhelming physical pain when he was not near Lorelei. Maia had kept dosing him with it in hopes that he would soon be so in love with her daughter that he'd forget about his feelings for his friends and be able to give up their secrets without a second thought.
Lorelei had suggested that she meet his family, since in fact, they were 'dating'. Ron agreed without hesitation, but then thought back about what they would say.
"I don't know about this Lor. My family was kind of fond of Hermione," he started, but quickly amended when she shot him daggers that faded as quickly as they appeared. "But they'd understand that I've moved on after she disappeared. I mean, what are the chances she'd even be alive?" That news did not trouble the redhead. All he needed and cared about was Lorelei, and that was under the effects of a love potion.
"That's good Ronny," she said in a babyish voice, making her 'R' sound like a 'W'. She traced her finger down his cheek then knocked on the wooden door.
Molly Weasley was watching the 'Ronald' hand of her clock turn to 'Home', so she wasn't surprised at all when she saw Ron at the front door. What did surprise her was the fact that his girlfriend was stunning-and not Hermione.
"Hello Ron!" she threw her arms around her youngest son in a warm embrace. "And good day to you dear," she stuck out her hand to Lorelei, who daintily shook it. "Who might you be? A friend from Hogwarts?"
"No, after he visited his brother and sister-in-law he came a wandering and we met in Diagon Alley," she said, lying like a natural.
"Oh," Molly said stunned. "Well, come on in, get out of the cold."
Ron followed Lorelei into the Burrow. She glanced over the state of the house; she had higher expectations of purebloods. She threw Ron a look showing her obvious distaste. He blushed a blotchy red, embarrassed that his girlfriend had to see a house that was once his family's pride was now his shame.
"Arthur! Ron's here with, with," Molly started.
"Lorelei," she said as if it was printed across her face and Molly couldn't read.
"Ron's here with Lorelei!" Molly shouted up the rickety stairs.
Lor pursed her lips, expecting another redhead (oh how she was tiring of the color!) dressed in shabby, worn-out clothes, with a kind face. And that is exactly the man who came down the stairs.
Arthur came thumping down the worn stairs to stand by his wife, eyeing Lorelei, thinking she was too formal for his home being dressed in a glitzy white dress with heels making her at least four inches taller than she really was. Quite opposite to his wife's warming nature to most everyone, he was wary of this girl, thinking that Ron wasn't so shallow as to date a girl just because she's pretty. Lorelei was butterfly in a home of crickets. She didn't belong, something wasn't right. Despite the gut feeling he had about her, he would at least give her a chance; after all, Bill got married to Fleur who had veela blood in her. But then again, he felt perfectly content with Fleur.
"Nice to meet you Lorelei," he said, reaching out to shake her hand.
"You can call me Lor," she replied with an air of being bored.
Molly, being aware of the slight tension between Lor and Arthur invited them to move into the living room.
"So Mr. Weasley, you work at the Ministry?" Lor asked, wondering how the heck he could work for the Ministry and live like this. The couch was overstuffed and saggy; the fireplace had a burnt look to it, the ashes swept into a neat little pile. A game of wizard chess was set up on a table two feet high, with pillows on either side, bleached from being next to the sunny window and frayed at the edges. The whole room smelled of owl droppings.
"Yes I do Lor. I love my job," he replied, then sensing her reason for asking he quickly added, "and even though I work there, that doesn't mean that I make a lot of money."
"Sit down Lor," Ron waved her over to the overstuffed couch that was saggy from the nine Weasley's sitting on it.
"Mhm," Lorelei was really disgusted with the place, but she had to keep the appearance of a good girlfriend, so she grinned (more of snobby one, but still) and bore it.
"So Ron, what happened to Harry and Hermione?" Arthur started, not wanting to talk about Lorelei.
()()()()()()()()
Harry wiped the sweat off his brow with his wrist. "Here Neville, hold it down!" Harry swung his arm up and stabbed down with the Basilisk fang. Blood pooled in the cup from the puncture. It filled to the top along with Tom Riddle Jr.'s screams. The blood pumped out and overflowed the cup, similar to what happened with the diary. Harry gasped for air. Helga Hufflepuff's Horcrux affected his judgment of his own friends. He thought they were conspiring behind his back to take him out like Voldemort. Finally, he had let Neville snap him out of it so he could stab it. He threw the stained-red cup across the room into a trashcan that appeared out of thin air. He laid back and thought about what it had cost him to obtain the fangs.
Getting into the Chamber was easy enough, and retrieving the fangs was too, it was the getting back part that was challenging. Millicent Bulstrode had taken a liking to talking to Moaning Myrtle after her boyfriend broke up with her, so she was present when Harry emerged from behind the sink. Harry had frozen in his tracks as Millicent's eyes grew as large as the house elves. Then she did what Harry prayed that she wouldn't; she screamed and alerted Headmaster Snape. Harry pulled out his invisibility cloak and yanked it over himself, cradling the fangs under his arm. He flew out of the lavatory. Alec Carrow was waiting for him, and saw his ankles from under the flying cloak. He started running, but by then, he had realized his mistake, and laid flat against the wall, barely breathing. Alec ran right by without a clue. Harry swooped up the stairs, only to get stuck in the same one that had caught him in fourth year. He had sat there helplessly, up to his thighs in the step. He waited about an hour or so, until Neville wandered around, looking for Harry. He had whipped of the cloak, nearly giving poor Neville a heart attack. Neville had a hard time yanking Harry out, but in the end Harry escaped with only a few splinters. The two crouched over and headed back to the Room of Requirement. From there, there was no incident, but they did discover that Snape had sent Filch to patrol the corridor. Dean Thomas had asked for a telescope similar to the one in Umbridges office with Mad Eye's eye so they could see if anyone with ill wishes was wandering around.
Harry got up and walked over to the telescope. It was attached to the door, and you just pulled out the end so you could look into it. He peered out to the other side, startled to not see Filch hunkering around in the hall. He reached for the doorknob, opening the door a crack. To anyone on the outside, it would look as if a green eyed boy was peeking out of an ordinary broom closet. Down the hall, Harry saw three of his friends hogtieing Filch.
"Hey! What the bloody hell are you guys doing?" Harry yelled, waving his hands to catch the attention of his friends.
"Hello Harry!" Seamus Finnigan called. "It's part of the rebellion!" he righted his back and put one booted foot atop Filch's head. Two Ravenclaw twins checked the ropes binding him.
"What?"
"Aye mate. Dumbledore's Army is rebelling against Snape's reign by kidnapping his spies, causing loads of trouble, like when Umbridge was here, and vandalizing the Death Eater's stuff. Oh, and other small things that would bother them," Seamus said. He started walking towards Harry and the door, leaving the two Ravenclaws whose names were not known by Harry, to half carry, half drag Filch down the granite floor.
"Are you wrong in the head? Seamus think. How are you going to keep Filch? Will the Room magically supply us with a holding cell?" Harry ranted, pulling at his hair. Seamus held the door open for the Ravenclaws to enter carrying Filch. He looked around behind them in the corridor before closing the door.
"Where should we put him?" the girl with short, spiky hair and a bubbly attitude asked.
"Over on the floor," Seamus waved dismissively, trying to think of how to word what he wanted to ask of the Room. Neville was best, but he was out.
"Where on the floor?" the girl with heavy black eyeliner and long hair streaked with blue asked.
"ANYWHERE!" Seamus exploded. "Gods, can't a man get a little thinking room around here? Just set him down somewhere till I get the cell, okay Trista? Okay Trixie?" he started pacing the room.
"Okay!" Trixie replied merrily while Trista replied with an air of boredom.
"Here, what about this?" Harry offered. "We need a dungeon-like holding room with no windows to the outside, and that can be completely sealed off of the main room. The prisoner's should not be able to use magic, and the room should be soundproof. Is that specific enough?"
"Yeah!" Seamus exclaimed. "That's perfect!"
()()()()()()()()
The cold pale figure beckoned the massive black reptile towards him. The great snake slithered across the old creaky floorboards of the dingy room. The faded blue wallpaper was peeling horribly, exposing the rotting wood underneath. Curtains that were once yellow now hung sadly and did little to protect the room from the sun's rays. Of course, this happened to be a rather stormy day, so a cool breeze entered through the multiple cracks in the glass. The bald man in black robes was sitting upon a well-worn out loveseat. The blue was faded and the cotton inside was spilling out of long deep gashes that also adorned the walls. Long, tapered fingers curled around the Elder Wand.
"Nagini my dear," a cruel voice crooned. "Why isn't the Deathstick working properly for me?"
Nagini slithered up over the back of the chair, curling herself around his head, and staring into a face so similar to her own. She hissed in reply.
"It must be that Dumbledore was not the true master of the Elder Wand. If Severus killed Dumbledore, then I must kill Severus," he said without showing the slightest bit of regret for wanting to kill one of his best agents. His red eyes narrowed into slits so small, you could hardly tell they were there unless you got up close. But if you did that to this particular man, those eyes would be the last thing you ever saw.
Yay! This chapter is done! I hope you all guessed who and where I was talking about in that last part. Good ole Voldie and the Shrieking Shack! Please review! Please review! Please review or Voldemort will have to Avada you too! (hehe that rhymes :) even more incentive to review!)