CHAPTER 9

Third Day 6:30 AM

Harry's mind was going a mile a minute. iFrance? Where in France? Why would Malfoy take her there and who was helping him?/i Harry could only think of one French name with any real personal significance and the thought made him burn.

"Lestrange." Harry said the name with such distain that the flame from his wand, which was still poised at the corner of Phineas' portrait, burned brighter. He hated the name almost as much as he hated Malfoy. Beatrix had cost him Sirius. And she had cost Neville his parents. Harry understood that pain well.

"It's Lestrange, isn't it?" Harry demanded.

Phineas eyed the close proximity of Harry's wand before leveling him with a cold stare. "Yes, Mr. Potter, Lestrange."

Harry felt a sudden surge of exhilaration; hope seemed to vibrate within him, but it was mingled with the poison of worry. Lestrange was just as bad as Malfoy. Lestrange had lost family and he was no doubt on a revenge warpath like Malfoy. Indeed, Rabastan Lestrange was the ideal candidate for Malfoy's plot to break out the old Death Eaters from Azkaban and Harry was certain that he was equally as dangerous Draco Malfoy. Harry's worry for Ginny redoubled, he wanted to move, and fast. He needed action. "Is she safe? Is she hurt?"

"Mr. Potter, you will remove your wand from my frame." Phineas' expectant eyes seemed to bore into Harry and he knew that if was to get any more information from the stubborn old headmaster he would have to cooperate. Or at least not threaten to burn him.

Harry let his wand arm drop a few inches but he did not pocket it. He was still in enemy territory and there was no telling how long the house elf would remain frozen at the bottom of the stairs. The last thing Harry needed was more delays.

"Better," said Phineas. Harry could feel his cheeks burn with annoyance but he swallowed his retort and instead, repeated his questions.

Phineas seemed to be seeing something that Harry couldn't, for his painted eyes had a sudden far-away quality to them, and Harry found himself wishing he could read the painting's thoughts, though he doubted if that were even possible.

"I heard two days ago a murmur amongst the other portraits that a number of persons were being held captive," said Phineas, beginning to pace inside his frame. "I heard one, two and as many as five were being held against their will. Of course we both know about rumors and how they can be misguided. I didn't know who they were or where they were being held…some said they were being held in the Ministry's Magical Artifacts and Practical History Museum, which made little sense, while others claimed they were being held for questioning at the Muggle Liaison Office in Germany. Again, unlikely. I mistook the rumors for just that…but it took me quite by surprise to realize just a few hours ago, while I was visiting my portrait in the Lestrange's home, to see the Weasley girl there. Though she's grown into a woman since I've last seen her, I recognized her immediately."

Harry swallowed, barely breathing. He had a thousand questions all waiting to burst from him, but first: "How did you find her? Was she...was she hurt at all?" Harry swallowed, his throat dry. He didn't remove his eyes from the old headmaster's pasty face.

Phineas shook his head. "Not that I could see. When I saw her, she was being walked to the kitchen for food."

Harry's knees felt weak. A sudden but unsatisfying relief washed over him and he felt his eyes burn. She was alive. She was walking. She was being fed. He blinked hard and asked, "Where in France do the Lestrange's live, Phineas?"

Phineas raised an eyebrow. "'Sir,' will do nicely, Mr. Potter. I do not pretend to be so comfortable with you as to use first names."

Harry had to bite his cheek to keep from shouting. He released a long breath through his nostrils before trying again. "I don't have time for this. Where can I find my wife? …Sir."

Phineas pursed his lips in apparent consideration before answering. "In Calais, or more accurately, a wizarding village called Notre Propre."

Harry frantically searched his memory. He wasn't sure where that was. "I'm not familiar with French geography."

"Why doesn't that surprise me? I remember what a dismal student you-"

"Enough!" Harry was done with Phineas and he had had a sudden idea come blazing into his mind. "Does the house have a name? Do they call it something?"

Phineas seemed taken aback at the question, and no doubt by his rude tone.

"I've heard some use the term 'De Vie' when speaking of the estate, but-."

Harry abruptly ran from the large hallway and retraced his steps back to the second room he'd searched. In that room he'd noticed a large fireplace. Harry knew that the Malfoy and Lestrange fires would be connected. He knew that if he simply said "De Vie" into the sparkling flames, he would be transported easily and perfectly into the middle of the lion's den. He knew he would find Ginny and he knew that when he found Malfoy and Rabastan Lestrange he would kill them both.

Third Day 6:45 AM

Ginny's heart was pounding so furiously against her ribs that it hurt. She glanced quickly away from the wand leveled between her eyes to chance a look at Cindy. She lay stunned, sprawled out on the ground at her feet. She seemed peaceful, asleep, and Ginny wondered if she would look any different when she were dead, for she knew that's exactly what lay in both their futures.

"Don't move a muscle, girly, or I'll blast a hole right through your skull. I mean it, too. I don't care how special some think you are."

He was rather short, with mean, black eyes. Ginny could see freckles wink in and out of focus on his nose and cheeks in the weak light. She did not recognize him.

"Accio." With a slight twitch of his wand he claimed her stolen one. "Geoffrey will be happy to have this back, I think, "he said, pocketing it smoothly.

Ginny's mind raced. She knew if she did not escape, here and now, she would die. She frantically searched her mind, trying to remember those self defense classes Harry had insisted she take, but they seemed ages ago. She could not remember even the most basic defenses and without a wand, she felt devoid of even the smallest means of protection.

The man roughly pushed her against the wall, her face squelching silently on the slime-covered stone. He grabbed her wrists and bound them together magically. Ginny's breath caught and she was surprised to feel her eyes burn with tears. iFind me, Harry. Come and find me./i She did not want to admit it to herself, but for the first time in her life she doubted if Harry could save her. There were some things that he couldn't fix, but she was afraid to examine her doubt further. He didn't know where she was. He had nothing to go on. But regardless of the seemingly insurmountable odds, she stubbornly held onto the image of a young boy helping her off the floor in the Chamber of Secrets. She hadn't thought being saved was possible then, either.

Ginny heard, rather than saw the man levitate Cindy's body before he pushed her forward. Ginny shuffled along the wall, the man's wand tip digging into the back of her neck. They walked for several minutes before she heard more people approaching, and her unsteady heart seemed to fail her. She recognized Malfoy's voice and could hear the wet cough of Geoffrey.

They turned the corner and she could see in the weak light, Draco's silver hair glisten as they neared. There were more of them than she had anticipated. Geoffrey was there, yes, but so were Faren, Rabastan, and two others she recognized from earlier –the men she'd fought to win Cindy's freedom, not that they'd gotten very far. Malfoy was leading the group and she could see him carefully fitting his spindly, white hands with black leather gloves. He stopped before her, flexing his hands, before meeting her gaze. Geoffrey coughed and spit near the wall. He glared meaningfully at Ginny. The man behind her withdrew the stolen wand and returned it to Geoffrey. He stepped forward to retrieve it, and when he did, he smiled down at her, his mouth bloody; he was missing three teeth. The sight made Ginny feel oddly proud.

"I told you what would happen if you disobeyed. I thought we had an understanding," said Draco, his steely eyes serious.

He seemed very calm, which only served to scare her more. She could feel her body shaking but her only response was to jut out her chin defiantly. If she died, at least she would have died knowing that she hadn't betrayed her family, her friends, her world. She hadn't completed the draught. She'd fought to escape and to save Cindy. What did it matter if she died when she would save so many others from a world of hate –hate that seemed to emanate from the men surrounding her?

"We'll use that room," Malfoy said, nodding toward the door behind her. Faren quickly moved past her to open the door. The hinges grated noisily and the old man had to tug at the door several times to open it fully.

Ginny was shuffled into the stuffy, earthen room. She tried to catch Faren's eye as she passed him, in hopes that he would have some amount of mercy, however small, as he had seemed to show earlier, but he did not meet her eyes and then the moment was gone as she was pushed further into the dark space. The room was bare except for a pallet of moldy straw in the center of the room. The ceiling was low and she noticed that the taller men, like Geoffrey, had to stoop to enter. She hoped that Harry would kill him after this was all over. Hopefully Geoffrey would be stupid enough to brag about what he'd done and Harry would come looking for him. She allowed herself to imagine what Harry would do to him, how he'd wipe that stupid, unnatural grin off his ugly face. Maybe he'd knock more teeth from his head.

"Put the other one in the middle," Draco instructed and the man at her back levitated Cindy through the door, her limbs dangling oddly.

"Wake her," Draco said, as he fished out his own wand.

Ginny's swallowed heavily and clenched her jaw. The dread she felt increased a hundred fold. She wasn't sure exactly how it would happen, but she knew their intent was to hurt and hurt some more. Maybe kill. She knew what Malfoy had done in the past, and it was almost always bloody.

"Ennervate!"

Cindy lay still, but Ginny could see her eyes blink open and closed.

Draco leveled his wand at Cindy and she stared glassily back at him. She seemed so childish, so helpless.

"Are you a bad wizard?" Cindy asked in a timid voice?

The chorus of laughter that erupted filled the room. She could almost feel the noise vibrate through her, but her eyes were solely on Draco. A slow smile started at one corner of his thin mouth; he looked pleased. Cindy sat up, though she looked leery.

"What an excellent question," he said, and the laughter died immediately. "I would imagine some would call me 'bad'; maybe even…evil." He started to walk a slow circle around Cindy, smiling benignly at her. "But," he said, holding up a finger for emphasis, "those same souls that point their accusing finger at me, those wizards and witches that so easily place blame on others like me, they are no more guilty than I."

Malfoy's sudden role of guiding teacher made Ginny's insides boil with anger. She didn't want to listen to his lies, his justifications. He was Tom. He was the honeyed serpent feeding the innocent full of distorted versions of the truth. "Don't listen to him Cindy!" Ginny pleaded. "He iis/i a bad wizard!"

The man who had caught Ginny and Cindy in the hallway grabbed Ginny's arm to shake her roughly and then he shoved the point of his wand painfully into her neck. "Shut your filthy mouth, Mudblood lover!"

"Now, now," Malfoy said calmly. "No need for name calling." Malfoy stopped pacing in the room and, instead, crouched close to Cindy, so as to look directly into her large, questioning eyes.

"I'd like to tell you a story, Cindy. Would you like that?" he smiled at her softly and she smiled uncertainly back.

"Once upon a time there was a boy who loved his father and mother very much. Do you love your family, Cindy? Oh," he laughed softly, "I suppose you don't remember them now. Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. Like I was saying, once there was a boy that loved his parents so much that he would do anything for them. They raised him to be proud of who he was and where he came from. They taught him about loyalty and cleverness and bonds that should not be broken. Bit by bit, their lives were complicated by other people who did not take pride in themselves or in their pasts. They conceded their loyalties to family and blood for the obscene and debase. Do you know what it's like, Cindy, to see all the good things in life cast to the wayside? Do you know how it feels to watch your parents' noble work to keep hold of the old ways –the right ways of wizards- to watch it crumble? To see it ignored?"

The wand poking into Ginny's neck forced her to turn her head, but she didn't want to look at Malfoy anyway. She didn't want to see the sincerity on his pitiful face, or see the mindless Cindy lap it up. It sickened her more than anything she had previously encountered at the estate. She wanted to scream and rage at his bigotry. She hated him; she hated his crooked, sick fanaticism that had corrupted so many under Voldemort's short reign. She could hear her own breathing grow louder and could feel the ache from her clenched jaw as Malfoy continued, and she knew that this little narrative was for her; he was trying to provoke her. He continued:

"After some time, people who felt the same joined together to unite the world and remind them of the true way of wizards. And you do you know what happened to them, Cindy?"

She shook her head ever so slightly, her eyes never leaving his face.

"They murdered them in the name of tolerance. And those that they didn't kill, they cast into prison to rot. My poor, noble parents are rotting away as we speak, all because they stood up for what was right. I intend to get free them, but do you know who is trying to stop me, Cindy?"

Again, she shook her head, engrossed in the story.

Malfoy stood and turned to look at Ginny. Cindy's eyes followed and fell on Ginny. The man holding Ginny took the wand from her neck. The immediate relief she felt was short lived. Cindy looked as though she had bought his lies. Ginny could see Cindy's eyes narrow ever so slightly; her body language had changed as well. She was no longer cowering and timid, but sitting straighter and leveling Ginny with a disapproving frown.

"This woman here," said Malfoy, "doesn't want me to see my parents again. She wants them to stay in prison for simply being loyal to their bloodlines. So who do you think is the bad wizard here, Cindy?" He turned to her, his blond brow raised in a question, "Me or iher/i?

Cindy's mouth opened but no sound came out. She tried again, her throat rasping, "Your story is very sad."

Ginny shut her eyes against the situation. She couldn't stand to look at her, at any of them.

"Yes, yes it is, Cindy. I'm glad you agree." Malfoy gazed at Ginny but she couldn't tell what he was thinking, and then he turned his back to her. "The story doesn't end here, though. Sadly, I'm forced to retaliate against ibad/i people like you and your friend.

Cindy looked confused. "But I'm not bad!"

"Oh, but you iare/i. If your friend, here, hadn't broken the rules; if you two hadn't tried to escape, if she had helped me like I asked her to, none of this would have to happen."

Cindy looked at Malfoy, a question in her eyes, and then she let her gaze drop to the wand that he directed over her heart.

"Ginny, tell Cindy you're sorry for making me do this."

Sudden, hot tears fell from Ginny's eyes and she shook her head roughly. "I iam/i sorry, but I'm not to blame.

Malfoy tutted. "Liar. Crucio."

Cindy's body contorted horribly; her scream rang in Ginny's ears. And Ginny screamed with her.

Third Day 6:45 AM

Arthur Weasley's heart all but stopped. It took him several seconds for him to regain his voice. Hedwig flew frantically around the room, screeching for action.

"Martha," Arthur said, clearing his throat. "I need you to contact Molly for me. Immediately. No…wait," he said, thinking quickly. He rounded his desk and shuffled through his top drawer, locating a piece of parchment and a quill. He glanced at Martha. She looked bewildered and worried as she wrung her handkerchief in her hands. He dipped his quill in ink and chewed his lip nervously. "There has been a family emergency," he explained to his secretary. "I won't be staying for work today."

She nodded frantically, her eyes wide. "Yes, yes of course. I'll…push all your meetings to tomorrow."

Arthur nodded, finishing his note. "Yes. Good."

Hedwig landed near the parchment, ready for a job. The bird's clicking beak seemed to echo his jumping nerves. Arthur rolled up the parchment and was about to reach for Hedwig to tie his note to her leg when she abruptly snatched it from him and flung herself through the open window.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Weasley?" she asked as he donned his cloak.

"Yes, get my son, Ron on the Floo, please, Martha."

"Of course."

A few seconds later, Arthur knelt before the fire and stuck his face in the tickling Floo flames. "Ron! It's Dad!"

He could hear quick footfalls and then Hermione's face came into view. "Ron's coming, Arthur. Is everything ok?"

Arthur responded by sticking his hand through the network to show her the newspaper Hedwig had brought him. "There have been some developments." Hermione's eyes widened as she read the parchment and she met Arthur's gaze. "Lestrange?"

"Hey, Dad," said Ron. He looked nervous as he knelt next to Hermione on their kitchen rug. Arthur watched as Hermione handed him the note from Ginny. His ears turned a dark shade of pink and his face hardened noticeably. "Right. I'll just get my cloak, then."

Third Day 7:00 AM

Harry stepped from the last vestiges of the swirling ashes and onto a hard, wooden floor into the Lestrange manor. The room was dark and empty. High, arched windows let in the weak dawn; a heavy fog pressed against the windows. Harry scanned the room, listening intently for any sound. He walked briskly yet silently to the door and pressed his ear against it, magically magnifying any sounds that might come from the other side. When he heard none, he quickly Disillusioned himself and opened the door to a long and ornate hallway. Harry scanned his surroundings, ready for a fight. He noted the dozen or so doors that lined the hallway. They were heavy and solid. They would have finery on the other side, not a potions laboratory or a prison cell. Then again, Phineas Nigellus had said that she was being fed, maybe even treated fairly. Perhaps she wouldn't be in a dungeon like he had envisioned.

He heard a sudden running and heavy panting and whirled around. A man in a brown cloak rounded the corner but did not see Harry. He watched as the man jogged to an empty expanse of wall and tapped his wand to it, eliciting a sucking sound and a click. Harry wasted no time in dropping him to the floor. He fell like a rock and did not move. Harry walked to the man and kicked him over onto his back. He didn't recognize the man's face, but he was certain that he would be one of the hundreds of persons that claimed to have been controlled by the Imperius Curse during the war. Harry quickly and quietly opened the nearest door and, finding the room empty, roughly rolled the man into the room and locked him inside. It would do no good to broadcast that he was there. The element of surprise was still on his side.

Just as Harry turned to look at the secret panel in the wall, the house shook violently. A loud ibang/i reverberated through the hallway; the chandeliers swung above his head, casting long shadows on the walls. Harry crouched and waited, listening. He heard muffled shouts and made his decision fast. He ran to the end of the hallway and peered around the corner, wand ready to strike the first thing that moved. To the left was a large and lavish room with an oversized portrait above an empty fireplace. Looking down at him from the portrait was Phineas Nigellus. He stood behind the high-backed chair that was painted into the picture, with a rather bored look on his face.

"I think someone has decided to enter the house without being invited," he said. Harry followed his gaze to the other side of the room where an open entryway was located and made his way toward it.

He looked back at Phineas but he had apparently decided to move on, for he was no longer in the portrait.

Harry carefully examined the next room. The marble floor was reflected in the glass walls and roof. Potted plants had been placed strategically around the antechamber, but before Harry had a chance to clear the room, he heard a very familiar voice that brought a flood of relief to his tightly wound body.

"So much for sneaking in. Bloody hell."

Harry ran through the adjacent door and found Ron, covered in plaster dust, and his father-in-law, similarly dusted in white.

"Harry!" Ron looked just as relieved as Harry felt. He was glad his old friend would be by his side for this. It was fitting.

After the curse was lifted, Cindy whimpered softly on the floor. Ginny wanted to go to her, but there was no way for her to comfort the woman, as her hands were still magically bound behind her back and she knew if she moved she would be cursed. Some part of Ginny agreed with what Malfoy had said: she was at fault. If only she and Cindy had hid a bit longer, or perhaps if she'd hid the bodies of those men she might have gained more time. Perhaps if she'd listened to Harry and had been more careful that night, she wouldn't have been kidnapped in the first place. iOh, Harry. I'm sorry. /i

All eyes were now on Ginny.

"Are you ready to comply, Mrs. Potter? Or should I curse her again?"

Ginny's chin trembled and she had to clamp down to keep it from showing. She didn't know what to do. If she complied, Malfoy would win. He would use her potion to set all the Death Eaters free and the war would start all over again. She didn't want to undo all that they'd accomplished, but she didn't want to kill Cindy. For if she refused, she knew without a shadow of a doubt, that they would kill her. She didn't think she could condemn her coworker to death. But she also knew that she couldn't set loose evil incarnate on the world. Not again, after all they'd done to rebuild their lives. Ginny had no choice.

"You may as well kill me, Malfoy. I won't make the Draught." She tried to sound brave, but she felt horribly afraid and weak.

"Crucio!" Malfoy cried, and Ginny forgot to breathe. Indescribable pain wracked her frame. Her dry throat tore with her scream and her body wrapped in upon itself. But as soon as it had started, the curse stopped. A rumble ran through the walls and she looked up from where she lay on the ground to see everyone's faces uplifted. She couldn't hear. There was a ringing that drowned out all other sound. She watched as four of the six suddenly ran noiselessly from the room. Malfoy shouted at her, though she had no idea of what he'd said. The only other man left was Geoffrey and Ginny watched as he grabbed her leg and drug her roughly from the small room. Her head bounced off the door jamb and Ginny cringed.

Malfoy was pulling Ginny up off the ground. He shouted in her face; she could feel his spittle hit her and she turned her face away. He was pushing her through the door. She could see Geoffrey up ahead dragging Cindy around a corner and out of sight. Bits of words and sound started to filter through to her brain. "Go…-ove…-ow!"

Malfoy grabbed her by the hair and pulled her forward. She lost her footing and fell right onto Malfoy. They both tumbled to the ground and in his momentary surprise, Ginny kneed Malfoy as hard as she could without thought. He rolled to his side and Ginny could see that he had miraculously dropped his wand. Her hands were helplessly bound but she rolled and scooted as fast as she could until she'd maneuvered herself on top of his dropped wand. Ginny quickly grabbed the wand and rolled back onto her knees. Malfoy was righting himself; he was also on his knees, but unaware that she had his wand. Ginny stood as fast as she could and aimed a swift kick to his ribs. Malfoy grunted in pain and he fell to the ground.

Ginny ran as fast as she could, she could hear her feet slap on the cold, hard ground. She could hear Malfoy call out and she knew that he was scrambling after her. She had to lose him, and fast. Ginny muttered an incantation to free her wrists and then picked up her pace. She ran blindly through the twisting hallways -left, right, right, straight, left, straight, right- and then found herself at a dead end. She recognized the door in front of her. Its elegantly twined tree branches glistened in the weak light. She didn't want to go into that room again. She would have to turn around. But just as she turned, she knew she would have to turn back. She could hear Malfoy's raging cry not far away.

Ginny turned, Malfoy's wand heavy in her hand, and slipped through the door and in with the dead.