Sweaty and Panicked Starfish
I hated wrackspurts. Stupid, stupid creatures. Why couldn't they be fictional? Why in Merlin's name did Lysander have to be right about this?
Argh.
I was dimly aware of the prickly grass pressing against my elbows - I must have fallen to my knees - as I clawed at my tangled hair, the stubborn drone of the pests filling my ears, my head, my throat. I had no idea where Al was or how he was faring; Numberita was overwhelmed, and it was all I could do to stop myself from screaming myself hoarse.
I desperately tried to pull a happy memory from the recesses of my mind. There was that one time with the bacon. Seth had proposed constructing a bacon moat around our house; we ran out of bacon a quarter of the way through (mostly because we kept sneaking bites when we thought the other wasn't looking), but it was still a magnificent, fat-filled day of glorious saltitude.
The wrackspurts buzzed on.
Okay, fine. They were picky. I could feel the light rasp of their wings against my nose, my throat, my lips, and the pressing weight sent panic shooting down to the pit of my stomach. Merlin. This was not how I was going to go - could you imagine the headlines?
WANNABE LAWYER CRUSHED TO DEATH UNDER FLIES.
THE GIRL WHO DIED - AN EPIC TALE OF IMAGINARY ENEMIES - "THEY WERE THERE, I SWEAR!"
"I'M NOT CRAZY!" - SAYS GIRL WHO DIES MYSTERIOUS DEATH IN MINISTRY
…
Yeah, not my ideal.
Something warm and reasurringly not-wrackspurt brushed my knee, and I somehow managed to tilt my head downward (the wrackspurts hissed in protest, beating angrily against my skull), blearily making out a mass of black fabric and hair.
A faint pine smell rose around me as Al's head pressed into my knee.
Pine. Snow. The scent sent a memory through Numberita - the first time Al and I had had a civil conversation, sitting in the empty hallway at Hogwarts and talking about Scorpius and quills.
My breathing slowed slightly as I recalled the unexpected kindness I'd seen in Al's eyes. That was the moment that he'd ceased being an annoying, cocky git and instead became a (admittedly still cocky and sometimes annoying) friend.
That single, comforting thought ushered in a whole slew of other memories, invigorating in their quantity.
Another memory - waking up on scratchy hospital sheets to find a pile of quills on the nightstand.
Laughing with Rose in the library. Sneaking bites of chocolate cake underneath the table. Whacking Wood with ol' Bessie. Playing pranks on Seth. Reading in the Ravenclaw tower.
Slowly the buzzing softened, leaving only ringing silence behind. I cautiously opened my eyes, the beginnings of a pounding headache throbbing at my temples.
Al lay sprawled by my side, his mouth working silently as his long fingers raked at his disheveled hair. My eyes widened, and I bent down quickly, shaking his shoulders.
"Al," I whispered, my voice still hoarse from the wrackspurt invasion.
He groaned, his eyelids fluttering. A sheen of sweat glistened on his brow. I cursed softly, looking wildly around for something to help him.
Lysander was nowhere in sight, which made Numberita think that he was incapacitated; though he was admittedly odd, he would never abandon a person in need (though Merlin knew how much I needed his knowledge right now).
Okay. How did I induce happiness in someone else? Al was thrashing now, his feverish hands gripping the dry grass in tight handfuls. I reached down quickly and uncurled his fingers from their death grip on the dirt, wincing slightly when he blindly clutched at my hands (Merlin, the bloke was strong).
Think. Think. Think.
I bent my neck, moving so my lips brushed his ear.
"Al," I whispered fiercely. "I will kill you if you don't start thinking happy thoughts. Think of James, Al. James has finally cleaned up his room! You can actually see your floor now!"
Well, maybe it was a lie. But if it got Al free from the wrackspurts' clutches, then I was all for it.
Al flinched, but his eyes were still tightly closed. I frowned, biting my lip as I scanned my surroundings once more. I had no idea what other creatures were lurking here. We were clearly visible in the wide open field; there was no cover, no place to hide. If something came at us now, we were doomed.
Well, great. I let out a long breath and slowly got to my feet, hoisting Al up with a loud grunt. Thank Merlin for my Beater muscles.
"You became an Auror, Al. The Slytherins won the Cup seventh year. You've won a lifetime supply of green apples. Maybe you'll finally get a dog this year. Vane says you're the best partner she's ever had. Well, I guess you're her only partner, but it still counts. There's a case full of pumpkin juice with your name on it," I rattled off between halting breaths, dragging Al slowly towards the place where Lysander had disappeared.
A dull thumping noise began creeping in from my right. I cursed silently, casting a frightened look to my side. I couldn't see anything yet, but the sound was growing louder and louder. I gritted my teeth and shuffled my feet backwards, wincing when Al's hip bumped against a sizeable boulder.
"Oops, sorry, that probably won't make you very happy," I whispered hurriedly. "Al! You've got to scrounge up some happy thoughts. Don't go all angsty teenager on me and tell me that you don't have any happy thoughts because I know you do."
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The ground was trembling slightly, the blades of grass shaking noticeably as the sound drew nearer.
Shoot.
My arms were burning, my fingers reddened and frozen into curled fists on Al's shirt. I was now far too tired to drag and talk at the same time, but I still managed the occasional "Happy thoughts!" (which soon became "Happy!" and then, finally, "H-pee…") in between grunts of pain.
I glanced to my right again. A sizeable dark blur had appeared on the horizon. It had the girth of an elephant but, unlike an elephant, was flaming red and sported two immense heads.
Brilliant.
"Albus Severus Potter if you do not wake up right now I will tell your grandmother that you were the one who ate the last cheesecake last Christmas," I threatened, reaching downward to half-heartedly slap at his cheeks (it ended up looking more like I was some matronly grandmother patting a reluctant grandchild on the cheek, but at least it was something).
As my fingers brushed against his jaw, he twitched again before groaning, his eyes fluttering open.
"Wha-?" he groaned.
"Oh, thank Merlin," I breathed. He frowned, looking up at me blearily.
I had no time to fill him in, however, for the thumping noise was soon joined by a loud trumpeting.
I yanked Al to his feet, saying, "No time to explain - just run!"
He looked over my shoulder, his green eyes widening as he caught sight of the rapidly-approaching beast. He nodded wordlessly.
We ran once more, sliding past the grass towards the small dip where Lysander had disappeared.
As my foot just touched the innocently green swatch of grass that led to the shallow basin, I had a split second to wonder who in the Ministry had thought that building a bloody death trap of a prairie underneath London was a good idea before I slipped, the soft ground dissolving to reveal only cavernous emptiness below.
What had once been simple, flat grass was now a dark, gaping hole. I felt like one of those muggle cartoon characters that Seth and I had always laughed over - you know, the poor, dumb animated animal that always hovered in midair for a second before falling pitifully? Hopefully, like that animal, Al and I would somehow manage to defy the laws of physics and survive this fall.
I fell instantly, my limbs turning to dead weight as my arms flung upward and collided clumsily with Al's. Al instinctively looped our arms together, bringing our bodies close as we dropped. I craned my neck upwards, catching a glimpse of Al's wan face. His eyes were narrowed with concentration as his muscles tensed, drawing my legs flush to his. I frowned. Sure, the hormonal part of Numberita was rejoicing at the contact (what? I can multitask), but the more logical side was wondering why in Merlin's beard Al was trying to hug me while we were plummeting to our probable death. What was he trying to d-?
Al struggled against the sizeable force of the wind below us, pushing his - and thus, my - legs out in a spread-eagled position.
Oh. Oh. He was trying to create more surface area in order to slow down our fall. Right. I quickly moved to aid him, moving my arms out so that I was no longer sweaty, panicked deadweight but now a sweaty, panicked starfish.
How long had we been falling? We should have hit the ground by now - or at least, something. I cursed the builder of this crazed room for the sixth time in seventeen minutes.
I strained to open my eyes against the pressure of the air beating upwards. When I managed to snatch a glimpse, all I saw was darkness. At the rate we were falling, Numberita estimated that we were approximately an eighth of the way through the Earth's crust. I'd experienced none of the temperature or pressure changes one would expect at such a depth, which meant that the crazy psycho who'd built this tunnel had somehow charmed it to be impervious to the surroundings. In other words, this tunnel could, conceivably, continue on to the other side of the planet. The Ministry wouldn't build a tunnel leading all the way to the Earth's core, right?
Right?
Right?
Okay, I was officially panicking (not that I hadn't been panicking before - it was just that this panic was more of a "CRUD I NEVER TOLD SIR ARCHIBALD HOW MUCH I LOVED HIM" panic than a quotidian "OH NO I FORGOT TO GIVE BLACK MY RESEARCH" panic).
I felt Al moving around on top of me, and I saw his hand twitch at the periphery of my vision. He grasped his wand tightly, his knuckles white, and slashed it diagonally. An arc of brilliant white light immediately flashed forward, providing some much-needed visibility.
Ah. There was a steady, pulsating black shimmer hugging the perimeter of the roughly circular hole. The magic streamed downward, forming an impenetrable hard surface that gleamed dully in the light of Al's spell. I frowned. It appeared to be some variant on the shield spell. What purpose could the Ministry possibly have in building such a long tunnel? It must cost thousands of galleons to maintain.
Al cast his spell again, lighting the tunnel once more.
The black casing was turning a bit grey, and I could see the vague tracings of brown rock behind it.
Uh oh. Was the spell losing its power? Al seemed to be thinking the same thing, for he began casting a flurry of varied spells, sending ray after ray of colourful sparks down to no avail.
I kept quiet (well, I didn't think I could have talked even if I'd wanted to), Numberita thinking furiously.
A green spark from Al's latest charm ricocheted off of the grey casing, sparking an incandescent cascade of blue light that made everything glow. The light settled on certain areas of the perimeter, pulsating for eighteen seconds before slowly fading.
I frowned. Why those areas? I carefully shifted, keeping a firm grasp on Al's right arm, and maneuvered my body so that I was closer to the hole's right edge.
The blue light seemed to be hugging a miniscule object - a ring? - that seemed to be falling at the same rate we were, hovering in the space directly behind Al's left ear.
There were some markings on the scarlet band - I narrowed my eyes, straining to make out the words -
"TURKEY" it read in tiny, neat print.
Turkey?
I frowned again, the beginnings of an idea swirling around in Numberita. I used Al's arm to propel myself sixty degrees to my left, ignoring Al's muffled protest, and examined the next object.
It, too, was a ring, though this one was a vibrant navy.
"AUSTRALIA."
I felt a surge of excitement. These were all countries - could this be an emergency escape tunnel designed to host several routes out?
A third ring hovered by my right shoulder, and I just caught the first few letters - "MENAG" - before the light faded.
Menag…could that possibly be the start of "menagerie"?
I made my way back to Al, tapping his ear to draw his attention. He paused in the middle of casting another spell, looking at me quizzically.
"Cast the green spell again," I said. The wind snatched the words from my mouth instantly, scattering the syllables until they were nonsensical gibberish. Al shook his head, signalling his confusion.
Shoot.
I grabbed his wand, wrapping my fingers around his (Merlin, hormonal Adela, this is not the time to start blushing, STOP I tell you), and pointing to my green shirt at the same time. His dark brows furrowed for a moment before he nodded, casting the spell with ease.
The blue light show repeated itself, and I quickly directed Al's attention to a silver ring by my shoulder.
He jerked his head back slightly, his eyes widening momentarily. Then a faint, mischievous gleam glinted in his green eyes, and his lips curled into a wry smile.
"So soon?" he mouthed, an expression of exaggerated surprise slipping over his face. I blinked at him. The ring.
Did he think I was proposing?
Was he seriously making a joke at a time like this?
Despite my outrage, a treacherous smile tugged at the corners of my lips as my cheeks burned.
"Idiot," I muttered. His smile widened into a broad grin, a dimple - SERIOUSLY? A DIMPLE? - appearing on his chin.
After another two seconds he leaned forward, his expression sobering as he read the words engraved in the band.
"MENAGERIE," he read. His eyes brightened, and another grin flashed across his sharp face. Despite the grim surroundings, another flutter of happiness shifted in my stomach. I wanted him to smile all the time - not the small smirk that I was sure all Slytherins were taught on their first night, but the lopsided, stupidly infectious smile that made me think he'd been a terrifyingly disobedient child who probably got away with more than he should have.
I nodded, an answering grin on my face. If my theory was correct, then this ring should bring us to the phoenix.
If it didn't, I was going to throw a fit. It seemed like we'd been in this blasted Department for ages (okay, Numberita estimated that it had probably been more like three hours and nine minutes, but still).
We raised our hands at the same time, our fingers brushing as we touched the ring tentatively. The hole immediately dimmed, our surroundings blending as the portkey drew us to our next destination.
We landed in another dark cavern. Al quickly beckoned me to a darkened corner three meters to my left. It smelled strongly of animal waste and fur, and several innocent-looking boxes lined the perimeter, each one carefully labeled with a golden plaque. The one closest to us was a gleaming yellow and read "HIPPOGRIFF."
An extension charm, then, or perhaps some variant on a Portkey -
"-Как мога да те накарам да работи?" came a muttered hiss from the opposite side of the chamber.
I stiffened immediately, exchanging a startled look with Al. That sounded exactly like Aleksandra. So this was it, then. This was what the last three hours and eighteen minutes had been building up to. Numberita still didn't have a clear idea of how Aleksandra was alive or how she'd managed to rally so many troops or even why she needed the phoenix so badly, but I did know that she could not succeed.
I crept closer, dodging behind each successive box as Al did the same on my right.
I peered over a softly humming blue box labelled "SEAL." A dimly lit figure stood four meters ahead of me. Aleksandra. She wore a dark black cloak that concealed her back, and she paced angrily before a brilliant scarlet box, tapping it with her wand occasionally.
I exchanged another look with Al. His face was pale but determined, and he nodded at me encouragingly. I swallowed, nodding back, before leaving the safety of my box.
I crept forward slowly, crouching low to the stone floor, and raised my wand carefully. A quick Petrificus Totalus ought to do it -
Just as I was about to cast the curse, however, the figure whirled around, the black cloak swirling in the dank air. As the fabric settled, it revealed not the slender form of a teenager but the swarthy figure of a middle-aged man.
I stumbled backward, a startled cry escaping my lips.
Green?
But...how?
Even as the question formed, Numberita was drawing up hidden memories. Green, smiling thinly above me at the prison. Rose, saying that Green had been released early from the hospital.
I shook my head. No, Green, though brusque, hadn't seemed like a traitor. What did he have to gain? And why had I heard Aleksandra…?
Unless Aleksandra was hidden somewhere else in this room! At this thought I froze, instinctively crouching down as I glanced rapidly around the room.
Green smirked, his normally-placid face twisting maliciously.
"Confused, aren't you?" he said snidely. My heart skipped a beat; he spoke in Aleksandra's voice. I stood up shakily, determinedly keeping my eyes on Green - and thus away from Al.
"No, not really," I lied airily, bringing my wandhand up slowly behind my back.
Green's eyes narrowed, and he - she? - whipped his wand up, striding forward to plant the tip firmly on my throat.
Well. This was good.
I swallowed thickly.
"I mean, it's obvious, isn't it?" I continued casually, trying very hard not to look at the death stick that was currently pressed against my major artery.
"You used the runes to switch minds with Green. He's in your body, you're in his," I reasoned.
Green - Aleksandra? - laughed cruelly, pressing the wand closer against the delicate skin of my throat. Merlin. Even if I did make it out of here alive, I was sure to have a bruise.
"Wrong," she sang. "The runes allowed me to take control of the nearest body. Pity it wasn't yours; this one's a bit too...thick for my tastes."
I blinked. Was that a backhanded compliment?
"Why do you want the phoenix so badly? Is it worth going through all of this? I mean, you were free. Why go down here, right into the heart of the Ministry?"
Green's features twisted again, and the wand's tip began to feel uncomfortably warm. I swallowed nervously.
"You murderer. You've killed my brother. Do you think I will settle for hiding in the sewers again? No," she spat.
I looked away, shame filling me; she was right. I was indirectly responsible for Andrei's death. I'd seen him die, seen his life ebbing away…
She flicked her wand up, whispering, "Expelliarmus." My wand slipped from my hand, and I snatched at it with a cry, whimpering softly when I caught only empty air.
She examined it lazily, running her hand down its smooth length carelessly.
"Holly wood...unusually short. Fitting," she said snidely, looking down at me condescendingly. I bristled, and she laughed again. It was not a nice sound; Merlin, she really hated me.
"Now," she said abruptly, looking over her shoulder at the scarlet box.
"How do I open this blasted box?"
AN: Thanks so much for reading! Again, I really am sorry about the delay, but life is extremely busy :( Thank you all again for sticking with me; you all encourage me so much!
Как мога да те накарам да работи? - How do I make this work?
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