Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, which is quite obvious.

Title: A Strange Call: Prophecy and Deception

Chapter 9: Threats

Chapter 3: Gallant Gryffindors

Gryffindors are terribly foolhardy, what some would call brave. They shall risk life and limb to save others, even at the cost of their own lives.

They're quite obvious in their methods, being a bit crude, but they are brave!

That might as well be in the Guide to being Gryffindor, by the original Gryffie want-to-be herself, Jessica Waters. I'm not going to get into her, however. This chapter is about weak Gryffindors, not stupid authors.

Not all Gryffindors are brave. Not all Gryffindors are obvious. Gryffindors have turned out brave men and women, but they have just as easily turned out sniveling cowards - those were just hidden. George the Turncoat from the Imp War of 1200 was, for example, a Gryffindor. Funny, that.

====

Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, writing needless letter to Ministry workers.

The three Aurors that he had sent out to find Hermione Granger were dead. There heads had been found on the front desk of the Ministry building.

He was frightened.

It had always been in his nature, his good nature, to save every person he could. He was of the Never Leave Anyone Behind school of thought. Sometimes it was necessary.

Richard Patterson.

Albus stretched his weary bones and got out the slim green book. It was filled with notes about Those Left Behind. It was filled with justifications, too. Albus sighed. He had always tried to justify it to himself.

Richard Patterson had been a third year Hufflepuff. He was bright, Albus thought him a strange choice for his house. He had always looked to have something up his sleeve and was smarter than any Ravenclaw at the time. Well, he was loyal. Unflinchingly so. He dedicated his entire person to the art of potions making and to the Light.

A rumor had started, most likely by a student, about him making a potion to repel the Killing Curse. The rumor was false, but not entirely unfounded. He had been working on a formula. The formula was flawed, but not entirely wrong. If he had picked it up again in a few years he might have discovered it.

Albus did nothing to stop the rumors floating around. As he had told Minerva at the time, What harm could they do? The only thing that I see them doing is pumping up his ego.

Minerva had replied with a snappish, That is enough.

Albus had just laughed.

Richard Patterson was kidnapped. Letters were sent. The Formula for the Boy.

No. We keep the formula.

Richard Patterson's head was found, a few days later, on the fence in front of Hogwarts. His body was found a few feet away from that. It was mangled and bruised. Traces of Cruciatus were found.

Albus ran his fingers over the wrinkled note.

Albus,

The boy died crying. Crying.

Good man.

Maybe - just maybe - you're not as stupid as we all thought. You'll let the weak suffer for your mistakes.

Good man.

He offered to join the Dark before we killed him with a final Cruciatus. We asked him why. He said, No one cares, apparently. You care enough to torture me fully, tear down my defenses, and throw me in the gutter in a fantastically cruel manner. You also have power. Albus Dumbledore shall die.

Oh, certainly. You will die. Not by his hand.

Good man, Albus. Good man.

Albus sunk down in his chair, tears streaking down his wrinkled face.

Sacrifice the girl. That's what he told himself many times.

Sacrifice the girl to save the school, the Light, and Harry Potter. Harry Potter will appreciate it.

Harry Potter would meet her again someday, having sacrificed himself to save the world.

Hermione Granger's sacrifice would not be in vain.

For, Albus thought, if he did send others to save her Harry Potter would somehow go. He would most likely die, his luck having run out. Albus would be fired. Lucius Malfoy would be Headmaster of the school.

Hogwarts would fall. Muggle-borns would die.

The Dark would reign.

Albus dipped his quill in the little bottle of ink on his desk and flipped to the last page in the green book. Hermione Granger, he wrote with painful precision.

Hermione Granger.

====

She cried in your arms? Narcissa asked, hiding a laugh behind an ivory hand.

Tears streaming, crying. I almost felt bad, Lucius affirmed.

You did not! Narcissa giggled.

I most certainly did, Lucius replied somberly, before giving his wife a smirk and sound kiss on the lips. What are you doing?

Sending a letter, Narcissa replied simply. She ignored Lucius trying to look and gave the letter the proud Malfoy seal.

Not to Siri, Lucius said.

Yes to Siri. It's going right off to Portugal and there is nothing you can do to stop it, Narcissa replied, spinning around as soon as she had given the owl the letter. She kissed Lucius.

You're not going to distract me, Lucius said none-too-playfully. He moved out of her arms and sat down on the couch. He's coming isn't he.

In a week, Narcissa nodded, clearing the desk of her stationary kit.

Lucius frowned. Did I allow him to come?

Narcissa averted his eyes. Perhaps not, but this is my house as well, Lucius.

Not over the holidays it isn't, Lucius growled. This is going to be an added inconvenience. It will be hard trying to sway the Mudblood without Dulsiri around. Draco is going to be bad enough. They hate each other and I doubt that Draco will treat the girl with the respect I want her to feel she has.

Narcissa laughed, incredulous. You want me to treat this filth, which shall soon be tarnishing my home, with respect? Lucius! You must be mad!

No. I'm far from mad. If we want the girl to feel safe here then you can't walk around calling her filth, Lucius replied.

Narcissa rolled her eyes. Isn't it a tad suspicious if the wife of a Death Eater is being kind to a mudblood? I will not speak to her at all costs, but I will not draw suspicion on myself by being kind or even civil.

Lucius sighed. Fine. Draco, however...

He shall listen to whatever you say, Narcissa cut in. She sat down in ivory cushioned desk chair.

Yes I suppose. That still leaves Dulsiri.

Siri is my brother. He is coming, no matter what you say, Narcissa replied.

You may be cold to the Mudblood. In return I am allowed to be cold to your brother, Lucius named his terms.

As if I could prevent it. Really, Lucius. Whatever little thing you get into your head gets done. You just do not listen to reason sometimes. Or your wife for that matter. I could not prevent you from being cold to my brother. You both almost got in a fist fight last time he was here - acting like Gryffindor first years! It's despicable really, Lucius. He eggs you on and you respond! You have such a control of your emotions in other facets, dear. Why could you just not respond to my brother's taunting for a week?

Those situations where I have held restraint have not been in my own home, Narcissa.

That may be true, but what, then, are you going to do about the Mudblood? What about when she regains that spirit that is spoke of? You think that she will immediately bend to your will?

Severus is coming. He shall help me.

You can't ply her with potions forever. You and I both know that. You're going to have to learn control. Unless you want to kill the Mudblood. Narcissa flashed a bright smile at her husband.

You may want me to kill the girl, Narcissa, but mark my words! She shall not die at my hands in this household! Lucius loomed over his wife, eyes threatening.

Narcissa stood up, pushing him back. Do not defend filth such as her. She cannot be the Girl of Pure, Lucius! She's dirty! She's tainted! She has mud running through those Gryffindor veins of hers!

Lucius gave a low growl, pushing his hair back from his face. Did my ring not glow, Narcissa? He grabbed her wrist. Did my ring not glow!

It glowed, Lucius, Narcissa responded quietly.

It is not wrong, Lucius' voice dropped to a whisper. She shall not die by my hands, Narcissa. He swept out of the room, cane tapping the wooden floor.

Narcissa collapsed into her chair. She may not die by your hands, Lucius, but she could very well die by mine.

====

Bulbus Flint, scant hours after being assaulted by the Cruciatus curse, sat in his study at home.

The study was always his favorite room of the house. The high ceilings made room for large bookshelves, not surpassed by even Malfoy Manor. The room was oval in shape, which might have created a pleasant inviting atmosphere. The room was not to be inviting, however. It was more invitation-only. A large fireplace constructed of large slabs of black marble stood at one end of the room. At the other were large windows, covered by thick red curtains, which had not been drawn for a score or more.

The carpet was plush. It spread itself throughout the room and changed in design according to the occupant. Color of the carpet did not stray too often, for if it did that would throw off the color scheme of the room.

Leather chairs of varying darkness, ranging from light to rich, dark brown, were spread throughout the room. Mahogany tables stood next to each chair, an ashtray and cigar box at the ready.

The room was filled with mahogany furniture, the most prominent piece being the liquor cabinet. It was conceived in design in 1330 by some Flint ancestor who had decided that, once they acquired enough money for themselves, was going to have the thing created by Muggle artisans and store it in their home. It was large and intricate, a truly beautiful piece of cabinetry. However, Flint, at the moment, was not interested in the cabinet's decoration as much as it's contents.

He had, with a swoop of his wand, cleared all the chairs from the room. He now sat alone in the room of massive proportions. He was seated before the dying embers of the fireplace, a sniffer of brandy in one shaking hand and a cigar in the other.

It wasn't the Cruciatus Curse that had him pondering this morning. No. The Cruciatus Curse provided some sick happiness to a man who had known none.

It was Voldemort's voice. It was Voldemort's mind. It was Voldemort's cunning. It was Voldemort's hug.

Give me what I want, Flint. I'll give you what you want, Bulbus repeated Voldemort's words to the empty room. He knew damned well what I wanted all this time!

Bulbus smashed the cigar out in a nearby ashtray and took a swig of his brandy.

You were the easiest, of course. All you wanted was love. All you wanted was reassurance. All you wanted to know was that you aren't a complete failure. You are one of the most pathetic of my ranks.

Volemort's words, which he had been repeating to himself since he had regained his power of speech, had struck him to the core. That man - that halfblood - would rue the day he dared to mock the wishes of Bulbus Flint.

Bulbus laughed. Threatening Voldemort, but still pissing his pants at the thoughts of Lucius Malfoy.

Lucius Bloody Malfoy! Bulbus yelled, throwing the glass into the fire. The fire, reacting to the brandy, crackled for a moment before calming down once again.

Much like myself, Bulbus smiled, slugging a drink from the nearest bottle of whiskey.

He had seen it one too many times. Bulbus Flint, millionaire and highly intelligent man, had decided he would no longer be the kicked dog. Then Voldemort would turn on his father-voice or Lucius Malfoy would enter a room and he would piss his pants and run away.

Bulbus, as a child, had simply been referred to as Coward by family and friends alike. He did not have foes. His father was too powerful and wealthy to alienate. Even children, in their conscious pureblood ways, knew that if you alienated Bulbus Flint you alienated a major heir of power and prestige, not to mention money.

You were right, Father. Absolutely. As usual, Bulbus declared his sins to an empty room and near empty bottle. I am a failure. I am the last of the dynasty. I have brought down an empire.

Bringing down an empire means building a new one.

That is what his father had always said.

Lucius Bloody Malfoy, Bulbus cursed.

He took a last swig before throwing the bottle into the fireplace and leaving the room.

Bloody new empire.

====

Ron had always known, even before he knew it existed. He had known what the mirror would show him.

The Mirror of Erisid did not disappoint.

Ron didn't see himself winning a mere House Cup.

He snorted himself. That was a pretty shallow innermost desire. He had been quite disappointed when his friends believed that he was so vapid as to want only that.

No. Ron had seen himself, older. He exuded an aura of power and was obviously wealthy, which was made apparent by surrounding and clothing. Hermione Granger, the only girl he had ever wanted, was looking pretty for once and was on his arm.

Harry, Charlie, and Bill? They were... missing.

Yes, a voice had whispered in his head for so many years. Yes, Ron. You are king.

Then they had made a mockery of that. He needn't fear, however, they would pay.

Alliance of the Strong. Only the strong should be allowed to live. Dumbledore was weak, allowing that traitorous git Snape back in, especially when he should have been concerned with the welfare of Snape's lovely daughter.

No. The Light was weak. The Dark was bent. The Strong survived.

====

He's adorable, Cho gushed.

Nancy gave a little snort. In a little-boy sort of way I guess he is.

He's adorable no matter what way you spin it, Nancy. You're just jealous because you don't have him, Cho replied matter-of-factly.

He's a little geeky to be perfectly honest, Nancy said with a wince.

Well... yeah... He's a geek, but I like him. Cho shrugged.

So you do think he's a nerd? Nancy asked.

Cho nodded. I suppose he picked that look up from spending all of his time with Swot Granger.

Nancy laughed. Swot Granger, she agreed. I'm just thankful that the Swot Gods thought it would be good to send her to France.

Cho smiled. We can only hope it's a permanent vacation.

====

Ginny pushed him away. Stop trying to kiss me and concentrate.

So you don't like being kissed? Neville asked.

Ginny rolled her eyes. That's not it and you know it! I want to concentrate. After this we still have to look up things on the prophecy.

Then send along any information about it to Malfoy, Neville replied with a sigh.

And we have to see if the Order is planning on moving their asses to save Hermione, Ginny continued.

And pass any information about that onto Malfoy. Neville shrugged. I want to help Hermione and I don't mind getting this prophecy information for Malfoy, but I feel a bit uneasy about giving him any Order information.

Ginny sighed, patting his hand. Me too, but he gave us the proof. Right now he may be Hermione's only hope. We have to help him as best we can.

Neville closed his eyes for a second before opening them and looking at Ginny. He kissed each of her cheeks. As best we can, he agreed. As best we can.

====

Severus rapped upon the door.

a cheery female voice called.

Severus cast a glance at Minerva. This is going to be more difficult than they had thought.

a breathless woman arrived at the door. Her shoulder length brown hair was held back in a ponytail and she wore a summer dress, quite out of place in the cold November weather.

Is Mrs. Granger in? Severus inquired, peering past the woman.

I am Mrs. Granger. The woman put her hands on her hips. What do you want?

I apologize, Mrs. Granger. You just seem... quite young to be Miss Granger's mother, Severus responded.

I'm thirty seven, the woman replied with a laugh. Oh! So you're from Hogwarts! Come in! She opened the door wider and, once they were in, led them to a sitting room. Do you need my husband?

Severus nodded. That would be preferable, yes.

Mrs. Granger frowned for a moment before rushing off to get him.

Mr. Granger, unlike his young looking wife, was overweight and dressed in winter appropriate clothing. A large gray sweater stretched itself over his gut, which spilled over his khaki pants.

They both sat down, waiting.

You're Mr. Granger, Severus stated flatly.

Mr. Granger nodded, putting out his hand.

Mrs. Granger did likewise. Rebecca Granger, she introduced herself. Bob's the older of the two of us. She smiled at both guests. Not to mention the fact that I just look younger then I am.

Severus nodded, at a loss. He decided to just break right into business. We have come here not to speak about your daughter, but yourselves. You may, because of your relation to your daughter, be in grave danger. Minerva, Severus nodded at the woman behind him, and myself, for the safety of both yourselves and Miss Granger, would like to hide you.

Rebecca's eyes grew wide. Hide us! Hermione's in danger and we're going to hide? No. We're going to stand by her. Isn't that right, Bob? She turned to her husband.

He patted her hand. Let's hear the man out, Becca. His wife sighed and they both turned their attention to the potions master again.

I will look after your daughter to the best of my ability, Severus assured the couple.

A girl, sir, needs her parents not a stranger during times of trouble, Rebecca protested.

Have you told your daughter that she is adopted? Minerva asked.

How do you know? No one knew except the family, Rebecca's voice caught in her throat.

Did you? Minerva pressed.

No, we haven't yet, Bob spoke for his wife, who was, at this point, close to tears. I don't see what that has to do with anything.

Hermione could be in danger because of her parentage, Minerva replied patiently.

No one knows who gave our little angel up. The woman at the adoption agency said that it was just some man in strange black clothing, Bob responded.

We need you two to go into hiding. I promise on my life that Hermione will be looked after by one of her parents, Severus cut in.

How can that be? Rebecca asked, too distraught to have absorbed much of what was going on.

You know the man who gave her up? Bob asked.

Severus stood. I am the man who gave her up.

====

Dear Severus,

Lovely times again. Holidays. Narcissa and I, as always, are expecting you to join us.

I don't see why you wouldn't.

You're strange about proper social etiquette, however, Severus so I'm extending the invitation once again.

Sincerely,

Lucius Malfoy

Post Script - You may see more than one of your students during this vacation, Severus.

====

A/N: 3269 words! Thanks all for reviewing!

Cara: I hope that you don't mind me calling you Cara. I just couldn't imagine that your parents would name you Ferret - magical or no. I understand about the gloves - I tried to type once with gloves on... a very difficult task. I thought that Hermione's reaction was in line also and I'm glad that you agree. I hope that this new installment cleared by some of your Draco/Ginny/Neville issues.
Artemis MoonClaw: You're just going to have to read and see... ;-)
Taya: I love your reviews. Let me repeat this. I love all reviews, but I love yours especially. E-mailed the review.