A/N: Apologies again for not updating sooner. You know all my issues, so I won't bore you with them anymore. Anyway, thank you so much for choosing to read this story.
And again my special thanks to pgoodrichboggs and mamahd for the encouraging words. You make me want to keep on writing. And also to Leonix2009, Dindore, Kou Shun'u, and MelodyDaughterOfHecate, for reading and reviewing. Very much appreciated, guys.
So, this is probably the longest chapter I've written so far for this story. It was a bit difficult to write...had to make some tough decisions regarding the characters. This story will also be turning a bit darker in the next chapters, so if you're not into that...
Anyways, hope you all enjoy this next installment.
WARNING: A bit of torture and violence near the end.
DISCLAIMER: This Fanfic is based on the characters and wizarding world of JK Rowling. I don't own any of it and I'm not profiting from this.
Chapter 24
Exposed
The morning silence in the dungeons was shattered by the loud thumping of boots marching down the corridor. It was quickly followed by the banging of steel doors being brusquely opened by the guards. James, Angus, and Dennis hurriedly rose from their sleeping mats to see what was going on. The guards never visited them this early and this was the first time that more than the usual two had come down here. Clearly, this was not to be an ordinary day.
"Get up! Get up! We don't have all day!" the guard, who James had dubbed Dumbguard1, was saying, his hand waving lazily at them.
The three of them were hustled out of their cell as soon as they were on their feet. The others were already lined up before them, their frightened faces evident in spite of the dim light.
"Mulciber! Stop dragging your feet and bring those girls here!" a tall, lanky wizard they had never seen before was bellowing from the front.
"I'm not dragging my feet! One of them seems ill. I can't wake her up and she's burning with fever," the one called Mulciber replied irritably.
The lanky guard muttered something under his breath and stomped toward the cell where Mulciber was. A few minutes later, he came out carrying an unconscious girl in his arms, his face sporting a dark scowl. As he quickly shuffled past, James recognized the girl as Merryl Green, a fourth-year Ravenclaw and the youngest in the group. In just a few strides, the lanky wizard disappeared up the stairs leaving behind the bullish Mulciber with his two wards. He had Merryl's cellmates in each hand, Janice Porter and a fifth-year Hufflepuff named Leanna. Janice looked mutinous as she tried to wrest her arm from the big man's grip while Leanna was sniffing loudly, tears pouring down her cheeks.
"Will you quit bawling your eyes out? Don't make me punch them shut for you!" Mulciber growled, his hand clenching around Leanna's thin arm, shaking the poor girl.
If James had not been trying to tamp down his own rage and holding back a thoroughly outraged Dennis, he would have noticed Angus sweeping past him, hands clenched with murder in his eyes. What happened next was something none of them ever expected.
Angus tackled Mulciber to the ground, his big hands pummeling the man's face repeatedly. When the bigger man found purchase on Angus' shirt, he lifted himself up and slammed his body against the Gryffindor beater and threw him against the cell bars, knocking the young man unconscious. With his back turned, Mulciber did not see Chris and Justin coming for him. They lunged at him in concert and were fervently punching and kicking Mulciber by the time complete pandemonium finally broke out. Janice and Heather joined the fray with both of them pulling Mulciber's hair and scratching his face. There were screams and grunts and curses; voices of the guards and students mingling into a cacophony of anger, frustration, fear and shock.
The retaliation of the students took everyone by surprise that not even the guards were able to respond immediately. They also seemed to have forgotten that they were wizards since not even one of them had taken out a wand to use magic on the brawling rabble before them. Two were pulling at the now screaming Janice and Heather while the other two, Dumbguard1 and Dumbguard2, their regular guards, were grappling with Justin and Chris as they continued to kick Mulciber who was now lying still on the ground.
"Let go of me, James!" screamed Dennis, struggling against James' vice-like grip.
"Stop it, Dennis! Don't make matters worse!" was James' furious reply. He cursed under his breath. He understood where his schoolmates were coming from. It really was just a matter of time before they all snapped. He was feeling mutinous himself, but being a non-violent man, he preferred to mull over his problems than solve them with his fists. Still, he should have anticipated something like this. He should've been more attentive. He should've stopped Angus. He should've done a million things except gawk like a fool at his schoolmates. Now it was too late to act. There was no way that they were getting out of this mess unscathed. If the Minister did not punish them, the guards surely will. And he hated to think what Mulciber would do in retaliation. Only a miracle can save them now.
"STUPEFY!"
The two men holding Chris and Justin, Dumbguards 1 and 2, were hit by the spell from behind, sending them sprawling on the floor face down when both boys moved away from their falling bodies.
"What is going on here?" a familiar voice shrieked from the stairwell.
James sighed in relief as he turned to look at Mrs. Crowe and Emmet standing at the foot of the stairs. Mrs. Crowe's eyes were as big as saucers, her cheeks flaming red. Emmet's face was livid, eyes hard and glinting with malevolence. He looked ready to kill. Despite their differences in expression, both their wands were steadily pointing at the guards.
"What have you done?" the wizard holding on to Heather screamed.
"Mr. Rockefort and Mr. Bellows, will you be so kind as to remove your hands from those young girls. I'm sure they pose no threat to you," Madam Crowe said as she walked towards the group. Although her voice was shaking, the wand in her hand was not.
"No threat? Have you seen how they clawed at Mulciber's face? These two are hellions, I'm telling you!" cried the wizard who was holding on to the now smirking Heather.
"Yeh! They nearly scalped him, too!" said the one whose arms were tightly wound around a thrashing Janice.
"Well, I'm sure they were both given enough reason to act so recklessly," Madam Crowe said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. If James didn't know better, he could've sworn that there was pride in the older witch's voice.
"Enough reason? Are you justifying the violence of these...these...filthy Mudbloods?" screamed the man holding Heather, his eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets.
"Shut up, Rockefort! I will not tolerate such language from you," Mrs. Crowe's face took on a hardness that they had never seen before. She looked formidable in spite of her small stature. James found a new respect for the Ministry witch growing within him.
"The Minister will hear about this!" shouted Rockefort.
"Oh, I highly doubt that," Mrs. Crowe chirped as she glanced meaningfully at Emmet who was now standing beside her. The young wizard grinned and nodded. Then, they turned to the two guards and said in unison, "Stupefy!" The two were thrown back a few feet before landing hard on their backsides. They slumped to the cold, damp floor with a loud thud.
Emmet went down on his knees and pointed his wand at one of the two unconscious guards. "Obliviate," he whispered. He repeated the same spell for the others then, moved over to where Mulciber was sprawled out. He was badly beaten, his face a bleeding mess. Emmet swept his wand at his cuts and bruises and whispered healing spells. When he was satisfied, he also erased the unfortunate incident with the students from the man's memories.
Angus was now slowly getting up on his feet, rubbing at the bruise on his head. Mrs. Crowe moved behind him and cast a healing spell. When she was assured that Angus was no longer feeling any pain, she walked away from him, took a deep breath and scowled at the students standing nervously before her. She asked the students to come forward. When they were near enough, she cast a Muffliato spell around them; just to make sure that none of what they were about to discuss will be heard by anyone beyond their protected circle.
"Now tell me what happened," she said, her eyes locking onto James. "Mr. Toffler, since you seemed to have been able to refrain from getting involved in this...mess...perhaps you could enlighten me about how this all started."
Angus snorted, mumbling a few choice curses beneath his breath. He caught James' eye and was about to launch into a scathing tirade against his cousin when Mrs. Crowe gave him a quelling look. She turned back to James and gave him a short nod of encouragement.
"Uhm...I don't know what happened. I mean, I don't know how...this...mess started," he said, avoiding the flaring eyes of Angus and Heather.
"You don't know because you do not care about what's happening around you," screamed Janice. "You act like you're not one of us...always so wrapped up in that bubble of yours...thinking about your dear Hermione! Well, she's not here! She bailed on us!"
James felt his ears burn. How could she say that? It was not as if he could do anything about their situation! And what was she saying about Hermione bailing out? They did not even know if she was okay or not! How could she jump to such unfounded conclusions! It was just too much to take and James snapped.
"And what would you have me do, Janice? Incite a rebellion? Abscond with all of you? We don't even know how we are going to get out of here if we're even given the chance to flee! Violence is not the answer here, Janice! If Madam Crowe and Mr. Fawley did not arrive when they did, what do you think would those guards be doing to us now, huh? Do you think they'll spare us? And it's not as if I'm living under different conditions, am I? In case you haven't noticed I'm also being tested like the rest of you! " Even more than you, he wanted to add.
But of course, he didn't.
For what purpose will it serve if he told them that his tolerance for the Imperius curse was also being tested every day? Will it help if he told them that he was constantly being interrogated about his parents and their so-called influence in the Muggle world? Will it make them more tolerant of his silence and seeming distance if he told them that his memories were now being extracted one by one? Will he gain their sympathy if he confessed that Heathridge, the wizard conducting their tests, had been trying to teach him Legilimency so that he could probe into his fellow students minds? Will he gain their confidence if he admitted that he actually had an inkling of why they were still here while the others were sent back to Hogwarts?
No...the only things he will gain from them were suspicion and fear. That's why he tried to keep to himself...inside his 'bubble', as Janice had so succinctly pointed out. He was slowly being singled out...being set apart from the rest of them and what scared him the most was that he somehow knew why. But he also knew that he needed to plan for the inevitable and try to escape before he was faced with it. And mutiny was not the way to do it. He needed to outsmart them. He needed to come up with as foolproof a strategy as possible.
For once in his life, James needed to rely on his wits and nothing else.
And he needed to do it alone.
"Ms. Porter, I believe that Mr. Toffler is right. Had Madam Crowe and I not arrived just in time...," Emmet shook his head before continuing, "Well, I'd really rather not think of what might have happened to all of you. These men are not ordinary sentries. They are Death Eaters, soldiers in the Dark Lord's army, wizards trained in the Dark Arts. You should be grateful that they were thoroughly caught off guard that they somehow forgot to draw their wands on you," Emmet said, his soft-spoken words carrying the weight of a death knell. Janice, James noted, was now as pale as freshly fallen snow.
"I'm not trying to scare you, but you should beware. This is not Hogwarts where the only bad thing that can happen to you when you get out of line is that you spend two hours of every day polishing the trophies in the Headmaster's office or rearranging and labeling the bottles in Prof. Slughorn's Potions cabinet. This is real life with real consequences. You may be exceptional witches and wizards, but you're still no match for these goons. They will not hesitate to use Dark magic on you...especially since you are...nothing but disposable Mudbloods in their eyes." Emmet let out a deep breath as he turned to Madam Crowe, silently turning the discussion to her.
"As of now, you are under the...protection...of the Minister, so they might not do anything worse than throwing a Crucio at you. But don't push the limits of the Minister's patience...he won't be very tolerant...or forgiving," Mrs. Crowe said, her sad eyes more humane than they had ever seen before.
James just realized that these two had taken a great risk in helping them. Should anyone find out what they had done...he shuddered at the thought.
"We're sorry about what happened, Madam Crowe. It was a lapse in judgment. I promise that I will never let anything like that happen again," said Chris, moving forward and taking charge and acting like a responsible Prefect at last.
The Ministry witch nodded, smiling benevolently at the tall, young man. "I certainly hope so, Mr. Havelock. We will not always be here to protect you. And as Mr. Fawley had said, these men are trained in the Dark Arts..."
"I understand, Madam Crowe. Thank you for helping us out."
"Not a problem, my dear. Just be more...ah...sensible from now on, alright?"
Chris nodded, his arm moving around Emma who had come to stand beside him.
"Now...about your missing schoolmate...Ms. Granger, is it? The Headmaster told us that she is currently in Hogwarts due to Dragonpox," Mrs. Crowe held up her hand when several voices rose up in protest. "We have no reason to doubt the Headmaster, so let's leave it at that. Let's just hope that she recovers quickly so that she may resume her duties as Head Prefect."
There were a few grumbles and whispers, but they were quickly dispersed when Mrs. Crowe continued with her talk. "You are probably wondering what we're doing here. We were actually given permission by the Minister to visit you, on behalf of Headmaster Snape, of course. The Headmaster had sent an appeal for your release directly to the Minister and Minister Malfoy has assured us that it will be granted within the next few days. So I want you all to be on your best behavior!"
Her last words were drowned out by the cheers that resounded around the stark walls of the dungeons. The students were hugging each other, their eyes misting with tears of happiness. Dennis had left James' side and was wrapping his arms around a crying Leanna and a sobbing Heather.
Only James stood apart from the impromptu celebration. A small voice was telling him that the Minister was bluffing. He would never let them go back to Hogwarts.
Not all of them, at least.
Not one James William Toffler, in particular.
o-O-o
Theodore Nott did not like being kept in the dark. He never prided himself in being smart or intelligent, but he had enough common sense and a keen understanding of people. There were only two people in the world that he had difficulty reading - his father and Draco Malfoy. And one of them was now standing before him, his hooded eyes swiveling up and down the Slytherin Common Room.
"It's a pleasure to have you visit me here, father," he said between gritted teeth. Was it not enough that he had to tolerate this man's presence during the holidays? Now he had to visit him in what he had long considered his real home? Something wasn't right.
"Cut the crap, Theodore. I know for a fact that you'd rather kiss the Giant Squid than having your old man looking over your shoulder. Rest assured, son. This is not a social visit," his father grumbled, his eyes still moving around the large room.
Theo nearly chuckled at the older man's statement. At least he still had the decency to admit that their relationship was far from being the ideal father-son affiliation. Alphonsus Theodore Nott, Sr. saw Theo as nothing more than an heir to the Nott name, a continuation of his family's legacy; while Theo saw him as nothing more than a means to an end - the provider of a vast treasure vault in Gringotts and parcels of land around the country (which he will use to abolish the abhorrent traditions of his family as soon as he had his hands on them).
"Even so, father. It is still good to see you," Theo said. Nott Sr. grunted.
"Now, boy, tell me about this Mudblood that's being housed in the Infirmary."
Theo stiffened at the use of that disgusting word, but he kept his silence. He waited for his father to continue. He resolved to not give the man any straight answers. Let him sweat for it, he thought defiantly.
"Well? Aren't you going to say anything?"
"About what, father?"
"About the Mudblood in the Infirmary!" his father growled.
"Oh! Are you talking about Ms. Granger?" he smiled innocently at the fuming man.
"I don't care to know about her name!"
"Well...I thought you wanted me to tell you something about her, so I'm starting with her name. Mudbloods still have names, don't they?" Theo smirked when his father glared at him. He so loved seeing the old man seethe and stew in his own juices.
"I really don't know what they are teaching you in this school, son. Perhaps I should take this up with the Dark Lord, have him review the curriculum of this...sad excuse for a school."
A bubble of laughter threatened to escape Theo's lips. He, for one, knew that his father always had a way of making himself look more important than he truly is. Theo doubted if the old man had ever even had a real conversation with the Dark Lord. He was more like Malfoy's errand boy than a close associate of Lord Voldemort.
"That would be very helpful, father. I'm sure the Dark Lord will be very interested in what you have to say," Theo said. Nott, Sr. sneered, his son's sarcasm obviously not lost on him.
"What else can you tell me about her? I'm sure there's more to her than her Mudblood name. Otherwise, the Minister would not have sent me on this important assignment."
Aha! I knew it! Malfoy's errand boy! Theo said to himself with satisfaction.
"What would you like to know, father? Aside from her name, of course," said Theo.
"Tell me why the Minister is so interested in her. What is so special about her that the Minister deemed it necessary to send his best man to verify her excuse for not being at the Registration?"
That came as a no surprise to Theo - the Minister's interest in Granger. He, himself, had warned Draco that she would be foremost in the Ministry's hidden agenda regarding Muggle-borns. He ignored that bit about his father being the Minister's 'best man'. Let him brag for as long as he likes, nobody's listening, anyway. His dilemma now was how much to reveal to his father about Granger. The man may be obnoxious in so many ways, but he was no fool. He must not downplay Granger's abilities too much. The old coot will be suspicious.
"Hmmm...let me see," he paused, buying time to formulate a believable tale for his father. "I really do not know her that well (which was true, he did not 'know' Granger on a personal basis), she belongs to a different house, you know. But she has always been ranked first in all of our classes...except for Potions. Draco's still the best Potioneer in our year."
"Are you saying that she outranks Malfoy's son in all subjects except Potions?" an evil grin spread on Nott Sr.'s face at Theo's nod. Next, he was cackling like crazy, thumping Theo hard on the back as he tried to compose himself. Theo laughed along, finally getting what his father found amusing. It was the closest that they would get to sharing a father-son moment.
"Now I understand why Lucius is so adamant in finding fault with this particular Mudblood," Nott Sr. said in between gulps of air. "He can't get over the fact that his son came in second to that girl! What a shame Draco's turning out to be, eh?"
Theo's laughter instantly died with his father's words. The old fool had just insulted two people who meant something to him - Granger, he respected (after he had gotten over his bigoted views); Draco, he loved like a brother. It took a lot of his well-cultivated self-control to stop him from pummeling his father senseless.
"Why exactly are you here, father?" his clipped tone earned him another glare from his old man.
"I already told you! Lucius sent me to verify Snape's claim that the Mudblood girl has Dragonpox!" Nott Sr. spat, his eyes darting around them furtively again.
"Why did he send you, of all people? Why didn't he just send his assistant to do the deed?"
The older Nott rolled his eyes, evidently exasperated with his son. "Because I'm his most trusted friend, of course! Haven't you been listening?"
Trusted friend? Servant, is more like it! Theo mused. His father really had an amazing way of deluding himself. Lucius Malfoy doesn't have friends, he has minions, subordinates, servants, people he enjoyed ordering around! The man held himself in such high esteem that he was always above the rest, except perhaps the Dark Lord. But even that is subject to conjecture. Chances are that Lucius is also using the Dark Lord to advance the Malfoy agenda. According to Draco, Lucius didn't even treat his own wife as an equal, how then could Alphonsus Nott think that he was Lucius Malfoy's friend?
"My apologies, father. You know how distracted I can get sometimes." His father grunted. "Alright, I suppose I can act as your guide. Should I take you to the Headmaster's Office or straight to the Infirmary?" Theo asked, leaning back against the wall in feigned boredom. He did not want his father to see how eager he was to get inside the Infirmary himself. The Resistance had been planning on inspecting the Infirmary, past the cordoned-off area where Hermione was supposed to be recuperating from Dragonpox. And now it seems that he will be able to do it without much effort. He only had to suffer the company of his pompous, self-absorbed father for a bit longer.
He almost laughed at the irony of it. He never, in his wildest dreams, ever thought that his father's arrogance and butt-kissing would inadvertently make him an accomplice of the Resistance. Unconsciously, his hand went to the pendant hidden underneath his shirt. He will send a message to the Resistance as soon as his father agrees to let him come along.
"Are you daft, boy? The Headmaster doesn't even know that I'm here. I made an appointment with Slughorn. He's the one who admitted me in. Snape is not supposed to know that I'm going to take a tour of the hospital wing," growled Nott Sr.
"Ah! How clever of you, father. Trying to catch the Headmaster unawares are you now?" Theo's skin crawled at the implication. If the Minister is harboring doubts regarding the Headmaster's loyalty, then Hogwarts is truly no longer safe. He must pass this information along as soon as possible. For now, he will just inform the Resistance of his father's 'surprise' visit to the Infirmary.
"But of course! Lucius is quite adamant that I confirm with my own eyes the truth to Snape's claim that the Mudblood girl has contracted Dragonpox. I've always been suspicious of that man's true allegiance. Now, we'll see if he's still worthy of the Dark Lord's trust," his father cackled.
"Very well, then. I will come with you to the hospital wing. Let me just put on my robes," he jumped to his feet and ran to his dorm room before his father could say anything. Blaise was at his Quidditch practice and Draco was off to parts unknown so he had the room to himself. Still, he made sure that the room was indeed empty before he took out his pendant. Within seconds Theo had informed the Resistance members that he will be visiting the Infirmary with his father to check on Granger. Will report on it later - TN, he added before stashing the pendant back inside his shirt.
The Infirmary or hospital wing was located on the fourth floor of the Hospital Tower. It was quite a long walk from the Slytherin Dormitories and Theo had to spend the better part of it shutting out his father's annoying voice. He only tuned back in every now and then just to make sure that he was not being asked a question. One thing that perked his interest was when his father spoke of the Muggle-borns still in residence at Malfoy Manor.
"...as I had told Lucius, time and again, those Mudbloods should not be allowed to return to Hogwarts. I said, just Obliviate them all and send them back to where they came from. But no, he said the Dark Lord has other plans for them. I really don't see..."
"You mean they're coming back here?" Theo interjected. His father scowled at the interruption.
"Well, not all of them from what Lucius told me. Some will be staying for training, he said. I do not really understand what he will be training them for! It's ludicrous if you ask me. Sometimes I'm beginning to wonder if that man is getting soft. I remember when we were still here at Hogwarts..."
Theo tuned out the rest of his father's ramblings. The word 'training' somehow got stuck in his mind. What did Lucius mean by that? What will he be training the Muggle-borns on? Well, whatever the Minister had in mind, it couldn't be good. His father's voice pulled him back from his thoughts again.
"At last we're here! I think I'm getting old. I don't remember the hospital wing being this far from the dungeons! I feel like I had just spent an entire hour crawling up those blasted stairs. Son, don't be surprised if you find yourself the Head of House Nott sooner than you anticipated." There was a bit of humor in Nott Sr.'s words yet Theo experienced a short pang of sadness. Just a very short one, though. He and his father shared a very flimsy bond. And that is what's really sad.
When they entered the Infirmary, they found Madam Pomfrey conferring with the very person that his father had wanted to catch off-guard - Headmaster Snape. Theo had to stop himself from laughing when he saw his father's face crumble in dismay and annoyance.
"So much for catching the Headmaster by surprise, eh, father?" he whispered. Nott Sr. ignored his barb but his face turned a motley red, a clear indication that he heard what his son had said.
The Headmaster's head turned toward them after being informed by Madam Pomfrey of their presence. Snape's face broke into a smile as he walked forward, hand extended to Alphonsus Nott.
"Alphonsus! What a pleasant surprise! I see you can't wait for the holidays to see young Theodore here," Snape said, unmindful of the baleful glare that his visitor was giving him.
"I'm not here to visit my son, Severus. I am here on an errand for the Minister. Lucius wanted to come himself but the Dark Lord had summoned him this morning so he sent me instead," Nott Sr. replied with a sneer, puffing his chest in self-importance.
"Oh? And how may I assist you?" Snape asked.
"I would like you to take me to the Granger girl. Lucius told me that you sent an owl to the Ministry excusing her from the Registration due to a case of...dragonpox," Nott Sr. said, his shrewd eyes looking for any change in Snape's expression. When he saw none, he scowled.
"Are you sure you're up to this? It's a nasty one, not really pleasant to see," Snape said.
"I didn't come here to ogle her. I just want to see if it's really Dragonpox," Nott Sr. said.
"Alright, follow me then," Snape spun on his heels and led them to the farthest end of the hospital wing where an area was cordoned off with a warning sign.
"She is in there, resting," Snape stopped just a few feet from the area covered with a thick, white sheet. Nott Sr. scrunched up his nose as a pungent smell wafted from the enclosure.
"What is that smell?" he asked, covering his nose with his hand.
Theo took out a handkerchief to cover his nose. His eyes were starting to tear. Snape also had a thick cloth over his nose.
"That's from the emulsions and balms Madam Pomfrey had administered on the poor girl's skin. She caught a really vicious case of it. The pustules are just erupting, so she's really covered with medication from head to foot," the Headmaster explained.
Theo's stomach started to turn at the Headmaster's description of Hermione's condition. He wanted to run for the door, but he steeled himself and swallowed hard. He must find out if it's really Hermione in there.
"Be that as it may, I still must see her for myself. I will not leave until I do, Severus," his father insisted. He could really be a stubborn ass sometimes; especially when his literal ass is on the line.
"I understand. However, due to the highly contagious nature of the disease, you cannot approach her. Even Madam Pomfrey uses her wand to tend to Ms. Granger. We have placed a...for want of a better term...viewing window here on the side. Come with me," said Snape as he walked to the side of the tent-like structure. He lifted a part of the white covering to reveal a small, square shaped cutout where one can see inside.
What greeted them was something that Theo would have preferred not to see. Lying on the bed was a sleeping Hermione, her bushy brown hair spread on the white pillows, her sickly green skin covered with large, red, ringed pustules. A thick white blanket was covering her body up to her neck so they could not see her arms and legs. Just as well, Theo did not want to have the full extent of her malady exhibited before him.
"Is that really her, Theo?" his father asked, disgust written on his weathered face.
"I believe so. Yes, it's her. I will recognize that bushy head from anywhere," Theo replied.
"Very well, I trust your judgment," his father said, turning away from the ghastly scene. "There are still a few things that I need to discuss with you, Severus."
"All right, let's get out of here, shall we? I don't want you getting ill yourself," Snape said as he led Nott Sr. away from the sick bay.
Theo made to follow the two men out when something caught his eye - a slight movement somewhere in the middle of the bed. Was that a foot? Hermione's legs couldn't be that short, could they? He moved closer to the square opening and observed the sleeping girl. There was something about her that was nagging at the back of Theo's head. In spite of the green skin and red pustules, he was sure that it was Hermione. So what was it that he found strange about her?
As Theo continued to stare at the girl on the bed something strange did happen - the part of the bed where her abdomen was supposed to be started to quiver and move. Then, when Theo looked up he saw two, startled green eyes looking at him with trepidation.
Green eyes?
He may not know Hermione that well, but he would bet his favorite broomstick that her eyes were not green. They were brown!
He doubted if Dragonpox changes its victim's eye color, too. If that's the case, then who the hell is lying there pretending to be her?
And where in Merlin's red socks is the real Hermione Granger?
o-O-o
Draco slumped against the back of the flowery couch in the guest bedroom and closed his eyes. His feet were killing him! All he wanted to do now was curl up in bed and sleep for days - preferably with Hermione in his arms. It's been three days since they had arrived in New York, three days of searching for the blasted, temperamental Chosen One, three days of walking and walking and walking. Never before had he walked such long distances and he had just had enough. If it was up to him, he will end this search now and go back to Hogwarts. If Harry or Henry, or whatever he preferred to call himself, did not want to assume his role as savior of the Wizarding World then, so be it. He was just so tired of running after the Boy Wonder.
He was instantly on his feet, wand out when the door was flung open.
"Draco! What in Merlin's beard are you doing?" Hermione cried.
"Oh! Sorry, Luv! Battle instincts," he said, smiling sheepishly as he put his wand away.
Hermione smirked and dropped beside him on the couch.
"I talked to Prof. Snape. I told him about Harry or Henry...or whatever. He's not happy, of course. But he's given us permission to take the earliest flight out tomorrow," Hermione said, sighing.
"Thank Merlin for that!" said Draco, leaning back to pull Hermione against him.
"I really think it's for the best. There's no point in searching for him if he's not interested in coming back with us anyway," she said, snuggling closer to Draco. "I just wish we were at least given the chance to talk to him...let him know all about the Wizarding World."
"It's not our fault that this Harry grew up to be such a brat...Ow! You really should refrain from pinching me or I'll be left with no choice but to pinch you somewhere...hidden," Draco said as he rubbed the arm that Hermione had pinched.
Hermione chuckled and reached up to pull him for a quick, chaste kiss. "I'm sowee Dwaykie...Hermininy vwewy meany. Kissie, kissie..."
Draco laughed heartily, pulling Hermione onto his lap. "You've been a very bad girl, Hermininy. I think I really should punish you now," he said as he lowered his lips down to hers. Hermione's response was instantaneous and heated, making Draco groan and squirm as some parts of his anatomy responded as well.
His hand started traveling underneath her shirt, tracing lacy circles on the smooth skin of her abdomen. It was now Hermione's turn to squirm from Draco's ministrations. She wrapped her arms around Draco's neck and pulled him closer, deepening their kiss. Draco's fingers were slowly tracing the lacy trimming of her bra when two loud knocks brought them scrambling up their seat and straightening their clothes.
Fuck! Talk about bad timing! Draco silently cursed. "Yes?" He said in a slightly higher octave.
Hermione snickered, earning her a glare from the blonde, discomfited young man beside her.
The door opened a fraction and Mr. Figg's head peeked inside. His haggard appearance told them that he hadn't slept in quite a while. His wife, as he and Hermione had both seen during breakfast, was in no better state.
Damn that Potter! Draco grumbled.
"May I come in?" Mr. Figg asked quietly.
"Of course, do come in, please," replied Hermione.
Mr. Figg shuffled inside and closed the door behind him. He sat on the edge of the small trunk near the door. He seemed more worried than usual.
"I've spoken to Headmaster Snape. He told me that you will be leaving tomorrow..." he paused, looking up hopefully at them.
"Yes, we are, Mr. Figg," answered Draco. The older man's shoulders slumped visibly. Draco felt sorry for the man, but there really was nothing more to do here. Harry/Henry had made his choice.
"I-I w-was hoping that y-you...well..."
"Keep on searching for Harry?" Hermione said. The older man shifted in his seat and nodded. "I don't think it will do any good, Mr. Figg. Harry obviously does not want to have anything to do with the Wizarding World..."
"Oh, but he does! He grew up wanting to be a Magician!" Mr. Figg blurted.
"Mr. Figg, we all know that a Magician is very, very different from a Wizard," Draco said, unable to hide his annoyance. Has this man forgotten his heritage? A Magician is a trickster, a person who does 'magic' tricks for entertainment and money! If that's all Potter wanted to be then he doesn't deserve to come back to the Wizarding World that he was born into!
"No! No! Don't get me wrong. He wants to be a part of the Wizarding World! All his life...even when he thought magic wasn't real...he wanted it to be real!"
"Because he wants to perform magic tricks," Draco smirked.
"No! Yes! Well...not really. I mean, it's not just magic tricks he wants to do. He is fascinated by the history of the Magical World. Of course, back then he thought that it was just a very good piece of literature, a well-written work of fiction. But, still...he had hoped that it was all real," Mr. Figg explained, his brow breaking into a sweat.
"Then why did he run when he found out that everything was real? If he really wanted it to be real then he should have been ecstatic when he found out the truth," Draco asked.
"I don't know...scared, maybe? Damn! I'm not very good at explaining things. Hang on a second, I'll call Merlinda. She's better at these things," Mr. Figg said, jumping to his feet and running out the door. After a few minutes, he came back with his wife in tow.
Mrs. Figg looked even more distraught than she did that morning. Her face was blotchy, her nose red and her eyes even puffier than a bullfrog's. But there was a determination in her eyes that they had never seen before. She sat on a wooden chair that her husband had conjured for her.
"Elphias told me that you are determined to give up the search for Henry, is that correct?" she asked, her voice steady and strong.
Hermione and Draco nodded in unison. The older woman sighed; the sadness in her eyes touching even Draco's hardened heart.
"Henry was always a...complicated child. He always felt different. He always wondered why the other kids could not do the things that came naturally to him. He thought he was weird. But he has a good heart. He never used his...ah...talents to bully the other kids. He used them to bring joy and laughter to this place. He also used it to protect the weaker ones."
Hermione squeezed Draco's fingers. He squeezed back and thought - Yes, typical Potter, I know.
"When I gave him that supposedly Muggle toy - a Magician's Kit, he admitted that he had been hoping to be a Magician someday..."
Draco snorted, disgusted that Muggles had the gall to turn Magic into a child's plaything.
Mrs. Figg took a deep breath before continuing. "Only it wasn't really just a toy. The wand was a real one. It couldn't perform to the best of Henry's abilities since it did not choose him. Still...you should've seen how he made do with it."
"Then, that was your chance to tell him everything about Magic, wasn't it? Tell him that the wand was real and that what he was doing was real Magic," Hermione exclaimed.
"You have to understand, we were told not to divulge anything to him. We wanted to tell him about his parents, about the Magic in his blood...we wanted to tell him the truth," she paused and looked up at her husband who smiled at her encouragingly.
"Then why didn't you?" Hermione asked.
"Albus...Minister Dumbledore, that is, told us not to. He made us swear that we wouldn't. He wanted Henry to have a normal, ordinary life. He actually hoped that it would not be necessary for Henry to go back...that he wouldn't have to...fulfill the Prophecy."
"He thought that the Dark Lord was finished for good; that he wasn't going to recover from his Deathly sleep, is that it?" Draco asked, leaning forward.
Both Figgs nodded. "He said that Henry did not need to know about the Prophecy. Not yet, anyway. Not until it was absolutely necessary, he said," said Mr. Figg.
"But then, the Dark Lord did recover. And when he did...he was even more powerful and dangerous than before..." Hermione said.
"What did Dumbledore do then?" asked Draco.
"As Headmaster Snape had told you, he came here to...uhm...tutor Henry," said Mrs. Figg.
"But he didn't tell him the truth?"
"Apparently, he didn't," answered Mrs. Figg, slumping back in her seat, her hand reaching for her husband's.
"Why didn't he?" Draco asked in a harsher voice than he intended.
"W-we don't know," stammered Mrs. Figg.
"And now...it's up to us to convince Harry...er...Henry to come back," Draco almost sneered. He hated how they were entrusted with such a vital part of the plan to save the Wizarding World from Voldemort. Why didn't they just send someone more experienced in talking to hard-headed, runaway teenage wizards?
"If you could only stay just one more day...Henry might turn up any time now. He doesn't really know the city that well. He's never been out there on his own. In fact...oh, Merlin! Why didn't I think of this earlier? What if the reason why he didn't come back was because he got lost?" Mrs. Figg gasped.
"We actually thought about that. And that's actually the only reason why we stayed this long. But then, we realized that Henry's a smart man. Even if he didn't know his way around the city, he still would have found St. Milburga's," Hermione said.
"Not if he's using an ordinary Muggle map. This place is unplottable," Mr. Figg replied.
"Does he even know how to use a map?" Draco asked.
"Of course he does! It's one of those things that used to fascinate him. He liked copying old maps and putting his own landmarks or renaming the ones already there," Mr. Figg explained.
"Why did he do that?" Hermione asked.
"He said he's marking the places he will be visiting when he's finally allowed to roam the city on his own. He did look forward to touring the city," Mr. Figg slapped his forehead with an open palm. "Merlin's beard! Why didn't I think of that? Of course, he'll go someplace he already knows of!"
"Wait...do you still have any of those maps?" asked Draco, an idea forming in his mind.
"Uhm...yes...I think I still have a couple of his old ones. But he made them when he was...hmmm...ten or eleven, I think."
"Before he became more fascinated with his Magician's Kit?" Draco felt nauseous at being reminded of such travesty. He'll deal with the outrage later.
"Yes, actually," admitted Mr. Figg.
"Give me the very last ones that he made and get me a real map," he told Mr. Figg. The older wizard was out of the room in a flash.
"There's also something else that you should know," Mrs. Figg was saying. Her face was ashen as she fumbled with the ends of her pink jumper.
Hermione and Draco looked at each other, their hearts sinking. Is there no end to these revelations? They both thought.
"This place is not only unplottable, it is also protected by Henry's presence and it, in turn, protects him. The only reason why the Ministry of Magic was not able to detect underage magic in this place was because of Henry."
"I don't understand," Draco said.
"Dumbledore created this place specifically to protect Harry Potter from the Dark Lord. The enchantments protecting this place are tied to him. To his blood, to be exact. As long as he is within the confines of the orphanage, he is protected - shielded from anyone's eyes, his magic untraceable. And so long as Harry is within the premises, this building's enchantments are in full force. We do not know for how long they will remain in place. If Henry does not return soon, he will be exposed. We will be exposed," Mrs. Figg's voice broke at the end.
"The children..." Hermione mumbled, her hand gripping Draco's.
"Why didn't you tell us this sooner?" Draco said, exasperation creeping into his voice.
"I-I didn't want to alarm you..."
Mr. Figg burst into the room carrying a bunch of papers in his arms. He suspended them all in the air with a wave of his wand. "These two are the most detailed," he said, pointing to two multi-colored hand-drawn maps. "And this is the latest map of Manhattan."
Draco moved forward, his eyes darting between the drawings and the map of Manhattan. "Alright, based on Henry's drawings as compared to the official map, there are only three places left that Hermione and I haven't visited yet - the zoo, the museum of modern art, and the Cathedral. We don't have time to check out all of them. Which of these three will Henry be most comfortable in?" he asked, turning to the Figgs.
"Henry loves art and animals, but he is also very confused right now, so he will need a quiet place...somewhere he could think," Mrs. Figg said.
"It's the Cathedral, then. But it is too far from where we are! A cab will not do...we'd have to apparate" said Hermione as she paced before the Figgs. "We have to think of the other children, first. How many are still in your care right now?"
"Seven, four girls and three boys," replied Mr. Figg.
"You have to leave this place...go somewhere safe. Anyone looking for Henry will not able to hurt you if you're not here. Draco, where are you going?" Hermione shouted after Draco's retreating form.
"To talk to Snape. It's a great risk, but we need Emmet," he threw over his shoulder.
He ran down to the Figgs' bedroom and threw himself in front of the fireplace. He stuck his head inside it and said in a clear voice, "Severus Snape, Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts Castle." He felt the swishing of warm air around his face as he was being connected to the Headmaster's Office. After a couple of minutes, he saw the Headmaster looking down at him in surprise.
"Draco! What in Morgana's name are you..."
"We need to know Emmet's address here in Manhattan. I don't have time to explain. Just tell him to send someone over there to let us in," Draco said in a rush.
"What..."
"Please..."
Snape nodded and gave Draco the address, which he quickly memorized.
"Thank you, Professor. I will tell you everything later...Fuck! What was that?" His blood froze when he heard two loud bangs coming from below.
"What's wrong, Draco? Was that an explosion that I heard?" Snape asked, his dark eyes clouded with fear.
"I think they found us, Professor. Fuck me! This is bad! I have to go..." he quickly pulled out of the fireplace and tiptoed to the door. He cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself and slowly snuck out of the room. He could hear voices, people talking to each other downstairs. He could not make out what they were saying, but his instincts told him that they were not friendly. Carefully, he made his way to the guest bedroom. Turning the knob, he gently pushed open the door and slipped noiselessly inside. The room was now pitch black. Afraid that he might give their position away if he accidentally bumped into furniture, he decided to just open his mind and reach out to Hermione.
Hermione, where are you? After a few seconds, Hermione's mind responded.
Draco! We're here behind the couch. What was that loud noise downstairs? I turned off the lights when I heard it, just to be sure. Are you okay?
Yes, I'm okay. Are Mr. and Mrs. Figg with you?
Mr. Figg went to get the children. Mrs. Figg is here with me.
Fuck! Hermione, I think we're all in danger. The enchantments must have come down sooner than the Figgs expected. I already have Emmet's address. Snape will tell him to send someone to wait for us there. We need to go now. Cast a Disillusionment Charm on yourself and Mrs. Figg and walk toward me. I'm here by the door.
Okay. He listened as Hermione performed the charm. All done. We're moving towards you now.
Within seconds Hermione's hand was fumbling around him. He grabbed her flailing hand and pulled. He could now feel her breathing next to him. Relax, Luv. We can do this.
I fear for the children. How are we going to leave this place?
Ask Mrs. Figg if there's a..a..secret exit or something...whisper to her, okay?
Okay. A few moments' pause as she questioned Mrs. Figg. She says there's a fire exit in the children's room on the third level. It will lead us to a back alley. Stairs are at the far end of the corridor. Turn right when we exit.
Alright...let's do this. Hold on to me. Draco said as he rose to his feet. They made their way to the end of the corridor as carefully as they can manage, gingerly taking the stairs one step at a time. When they finally reached the top, Mrs. Figg broke away from Hermione and ran for the door. She flung it open just in time for Hermione to lift the Disillusionment Charm on her. Draco lifted theirs.
The room was dark, the only illumination coming from the moon shining through the windows, just enough for them to see. As soon as Mrs. Figg stepped into the room, she opened her arms and called out in a hurried whisper, "My children!"
All at once the children ran towards their House Mother, crying and hugging her at the same time. Mr. Figg was also in tears as he flung his arms around his wife.
"What is going on, Mrs. Figg?" asked the tallest girl in the group.
"We're going on an adventure, okay? Remember the door at the back of the room that I told you never, ever open unless there's an emergency?" Seven heads nodded. "Well, we're going to break that rule tonight. We're opening the door and going down the stairs. But very quietly, okay?"
"Are we playing hide and seek?" a blonde boy of about five asked. Draco couldn't help but think of himself when he was that age. He never played any games with anyone.
"Yes, we are! That's why we have to be very quiet. We don't want to be found just yet, do we?" said Mrs. Figg in a very cheerful, but quiet voice.
"What's our prize if we win?" the blonde boy asked again.
"Uhm..." Mrs. Figg seemed to have run out of answers.
"We get to take a trip to a beautiful house where there are lots and lots of chocolate!" Draco cut in, kneeling down to look at the blonde boy.
"Wow! Really? I like your hair!"
Draco chuckled as he ruffled the young boy's hair. Mrs. Figg beamed at him.
"Right! So, let's go now, shall we?" Draco said, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Hermione was smiling sweetly at him.
Shut up, Hermione.
Hermione chuckled.
Mr. Figg turned the lock and pushed open the door that led to a metal landing. He then waved his hand at Draco and Hermione. When they were on the landing, Mr. Figg took them aside and whispered, "Take Mrs. Figg and the children. I will try to see what the people downstairs are doing. I will stall them if necessary."
"There's no need for that! We can all go together," Hermione said, not liking what Mr. Figg was saying. Draco was also about to protest when Mr. Figg held up his hand to stop him.
"I knew this would happen sooner or later. I've prepared myself for this. Trust me, I'm not trying to be a hero here. If there's a way for me to leave this place alive, I will. But my wife and the children are the priority now. I will do anything to keep them safe. Just promise me that you will, too," the old wizard said, gripping Draco by the shoulders, his desperate eyes pleading.
Draco could not do anything but nod. "I promise," he said eventually.
"Thank you! Now, go! Go and don't look back, you hear?" Mr. Figg gave them a big smile before he turned to his wife. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight. Before he let go, he tilted her face to his and gave her a kiss. Mrs. Figg was now crying in earnest, understanding. Then, Mr. Figg stepped back and disappeared into the darkened room.
"Mrs. Figg, we have to go now!" Hermione said as she led two of the older children, the tall girl and a shorter one, down the stairs. They nodded when Draco whispered something to them. Next, came the blonde boy, followed by two boys and two girls. Draco told Hermione to follow them down the stairs, while he went back for Mrs. Figg.
"Mrs. Figg, please. We have to leave now," he said, extending his hand toward the woman.
"Thank you for doing this for us. Tell Henry that we love him and that he should not be afraid, we will always be with him. Please take care of the children," she said, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"You don't have to do this, Mrs. Figg. I'm sure Elphias can take care of himself. He said he would follow us," Draco said, desperate to get away, but not without the older witch.
Mrs. Figg gave him a sad smile and said, "I'm sorry...I can't leave him..."
Before Draco could say anything, she was running back into the room. He wanted to go after her, but Hermione's voice was inside his head.
Draco, we have to go now. The children are getting scared.
I'll be right there, Hermione.
With one backward look, Draco turned towards the stairs and ran down as fast as his feet could carry him.
o-O-o
The Cathedral of St. John the Divine was a truly wondrous structure. Its size alone was impressive - covering an interior area of 11,202 sqm, it was the fourth largest Christian church in the world. Or, so the guide in Henry's hand said. Based on the leaflet, which he had been perusing since early this morning, the Church was built in 1892 and has undergone numerous changes and additions over the years. The nave itself has a length of two football fields combined and can hold up to 5,000 worshippers. It has an eclectic design with Byzantine, Gothic and Romanesque elements. Most notable was the lovely Great Rose Window, which was the largest stained glass window in the country. There were also numerous amazing tapestries, beautiful paintings and magnificent sculptures to please the eye. The Cathedral also has seven Chapels branching off from the central chamber. It is in one of these Chapels that Henry was now seated.
Henry had spent years dreaming of seeing this famed structure for himself. The Figgs made it a point to educate them well and two of the subjects that Henry thoroughly enjoyed were Art and Architecture. That's the reason why he was able to appreciate the architectural and artistic merits of the cathedral. But what Henry really loved about it was the sense of peace and solitude that no other place could give him. And right now, they were the two things that he needed the most.
Leaning back against the hard wooden back of the chair, Henry closed his eyes and sighed. He couldn't hide here forever, he knew that. In fact, he would be forced to leave when the cathedral closes in less than an hour. He had less than an hour to make a decision. He should have done it three days ago, but everything was happening too fast and he felt hemmed in. Honestly, who could have blamed him for bolting when he was slammed in the face with the truth? Who wouldn't have run after finding out that his whole life was a lie? Who wouldn't have panicked after being told that an entire world depended on you for its salvation?
A better man than me, Henry concluded bitterly.
All his life, he knew he was different. He felt it in his heart, in his soul. There was something...special...running through his veins. He could do things not even one of his friends could do. At first he thought that he was unusual...strange...weird. He was scared at first, afraid that he would be ridiculed and rejected by his friends. But then, when he started doing things, albeit unintentionally, that made them laugh or smile, the fear lessened. Still...there was that underlying concern that something about him just wasn't...right.
A slight movement behind him caused Henry to open his eyes. Slowly, he turned around in his seat to see what it was and was instantly greeted by the smiling face of a young girl of about 9 or 10 with big, hazel eyes and curly brown hair.
"Hello," she said, waving her hand at him.
Henry smiled and waved back.
"Can I sit beside you?" she asked.
"Uhm...sure, why not," Henry replied, looking around the chapel. The girl jumped to her feet and moved toward where Henry sat. She took the seat to his right.
"My name's Amerlaine, by the way," she said as she extended her hand to Henry.
"Oh, right! I'm Henry," he said, taking her hand and shaking it.
"Are you here by yourself?" Amerlaine asked.
"Yes...what about you?"
"My mom's in the main church, ogling the tapestries again. She loves looking at those. She can spend hours just looking at them, you know," she said, giggling. "Want to see a neat trick?"
"Uhm...sure," Henry said, chuckling. What do you know? An amateur magician like myself!
Amerlaine took out a small plastic turtle from the tiny bag dangling from her shoulder and placed it on her palm and made a fist. Then, she closed her eyes real tight and mumbled some words Henry could not make out. After a few seconds, she opened her eyes and smiled. "Hold out your hand, Henry," she said, her eyes twinkling mischievously.
Henry did as he was told. Amerlaine put her small hand over his and opened it. When she removed her hand, Henry gasped. The plastic turtle was alive! Its color had darkened into an olive green and its feet and head were moving as it tried to crawl off of his palm.
"I've always wanted to show that to people other than my parents. But my mom said that I shouldn't because it might scare people away. My dad loves it..."
"Wow! How did you do that?" he blurted before he could stop himself. She eerily reminded him of the time when he turned Sean's bunny slippers into real, live bunnies.
Amerlaine pffted at him and said, "Magic, of course! As if you don't know. I bet you can do something way much better than that."
Henry was speechless! How could this girl know that he knows about real magic? And as if she could read his mind, too, she patted his hand and gave him a knowing smile. Then she took the turtle from him and put it inside her bag.
"I know you're a wizard, Henry, just like my dad. I felt it the moment I entered this chapel. Your magic is quite strong, you know. It's a special talent, my dad said - my ability to tell between Magicals and No-majes. He's an Auror, you know, my dad, I mean. That's what I'm going to be, too. When I grow up, of course. I have to go to Ilvermorny first, naturally. And..."
"Wait! Stop! Stop! I'm...new at this, Amerlaine, so please bear with me. What are Magicals and No-M-majes? I don't understand what you're saying," Henry said with a shy smile.
"New at this? You mean...you didn't know that you're a wizard?" Amerlaine exclaimed.
Henry shook his head and gave her a tentative smile.
"Wow! That is...well..." she paused and narrowed her eyes at Henry as if sizing him up. Then, she shrugged, obviously making up her mind. "All right, listen. Magicals are people with magic in their blood, like witches and wizards and No-Majes or No-Magic are people without magic."
"You said your dad is an Auror? What is that?"
"An Auror is like a...hmm..a policeman! Yes, a policeman. Only he carries a wand and not a gun. Do you have a wand, Henry?"
"Uhm...I'm not sure if it's a real wand," he said.
"Can you do magic with it?"
"Y-yes...I think so," Henry said, thinking of the time that he made Dumbledore's wand fly into his own hand. Henry's gut wrenched at the memory.
"Well, then. It's a real wand, for sure. Can you do magic without it?"
"Uhm...yes...maybe...I'm not really sure," Henry said, raking his fingers through his head, flipping a few strands from his forehead.
"Whoa! What's that on your forehead?" Amerlaine said, squinting up at Henry.
"It's a scar. I've had it since I was a baby, I think," he replied, moving closer to Amerlaine so she could see it better.
"That's amazing! Have you heard of Harry Potter?" she asked, her eyes not leaving Henry's scar.
Henry nearly choked at the question. How did she know about that?
"Uh...no," he lied.
"Well, my dad used to tell me all about him. He's a boy who survived a Killing curse from a very, very bad wizard. Daddy said that he had a scar on his forehead, too. And he lives in England. Daddy says that Harry Potter is the Chosen One, the savior of the Wizarding World, whatever that means," she chuckled. "Anyway...mom says it's just a bedtime story because no one can survive the Killing curse especially when done by a Dark wizard."
Harry Potter, a bedtime story...right.
"Is your mom...uhm...magical, too?" he asked just to get her mind off the subject of Harry Potter.
"Oh, yes! But she can't do magic. I don't know why. She said it's always been like that. It's a bit sad, actually. She loves magic, though! And she can sense it when she shakes someone's hand. She can also tell if you're a good Magical or not," Amerlaine said, fumbling inside her tiny bag.
A Squib! Her mom's a Squib...just like...
Everything seemed to snap into place for Henry and he could not wait to go back to Mr. and Mrs. Figg. He has finally made his decision.
Just then, a tall, slender woman with the same hair color as Amerlaine's walked inside the chapel, looking a bit frazzled.
"There you are! I was looking all over for you," she paused when she saw Henry, "I hope you're not bothering this young man," she said, smiling shyly at Henry.
"Oh, no! She's no bother at all," Henry said, getting up from his seat.
"Mommy! I have loads to tell you," Amerlaine jumped to her feet and grabbed Henry's hand, dragging him behind her as she ran towards her mother.
"Mom, this is my new friend, Henry," she said when they stopped in front of the woman.
"Hello, Henry, nice to meet you. I'm Mathilda...Mathilda Prescott," Mathilda smiled and extended her hand to Henry. Her eyes flared just a fraction when Henry shook her hand.
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Prescott," he said.
"Oh! Just call me Mathilda," she said with a wave of her hand.
"He's also a wizard, mom," Amerlaine whispered conspiratorially.
Mathilda chuckled softly before saying, "I know. And he's a good wizard, too."
"Bet you didn't know that he's new to magic and that he has a scar the same as the one Harry Potter has," Amerlaine said, smiling smugly up at her mother.
"Oh! Really? Uhm...No, I didn't know that," Mathilda replied, trying hard not to look like she was looking at the scar on Henry's forehead. "I-I'm so sorry about Amerlaine. She can be a bit...obtrusive. I hope she didn't annoy you too much."
"No, she's actually very...informative," Henry said, winking at Amerlaine.
"Is it true that...you're new to magic? Did your abilities manifest rather late?" she asked with genuine curiosity. Henry did not know how to explain his situation to her.
"Uhm...no. But I was not aware that it was...magic," he said, hoping that Mathilda understood what he meant. It seemed that she did since she was nodding her head.
"Well, Henry, the Magical community here is really a tightly knit one. We like to keep track of each other; just in case we need to extend help, especially now that..." she broke off and glanced nervously around. Henry caught on quickly.
"What do you mean...especially now?" he asked.
Mathilda moved closer and said in a voice that was barely above a whisper, "There have been rumors about the return of a Dark Wizard from the Wizarding community in Britain. These are dangerous times, Henry. But I really can't talk about it here now. If you want, you can visit us when my husband's at home. He can explain it much better than I. He works for the MACUSA as an Auror," she said as she took a pen and a piece of paper from her bag. She scribbled on it, folded it and gave it to Henry.
"Come visit us, Henry, so I can show you my other tricks," Amerlaine said with a big grin.
"I'll try, but I really have to get going. My...my folks must be waiting for me now," Henry said in a rush. He pocketed the piece of paper and shook Mathilda's hand again. When he shook Amerlaine's hand, he felt her press something into his palm. Looking down, he saw a small, round mirror.
"It's a magic mirror. Call to me when you want to talk," she said, giggling.
"Uhm...okay. T-thanks!" Henry said, not really understanding.
"We'll also be going now. The church will be closing in a few minutes anyway," Mathilda said.
"Great! Henry can walk out the church with us," Amerlaine said as she took Henry's hand and led the way out of the Cathedral.
When they were outside, Amerlaine reluctantly let go of Henry's hand and blew him a kiss before waving goodbye. Henry blushed. As soon as the mother and daughter pair got on the bus, Henry turned around and walked in the opposite direction. It would take him about forty-five minutes to get to St. Milburga's if he took the short-cut that he discovered in Central Park just the night before. He didn't realize that he had gone so far from home.
His stomach started to rumble at the thought of home. He hadn't had a decent meal for three days, living mostly on hotdogs and chips, and he was now eager to tuck into some scrumptious shepherd's pie that Mrs. Figg cooked to perfection. Mr. Figg had been giving him weekly allowances ever since he turned eighteen which he judiciously kept locked up in his locker. Thankfully, he had not yet stashed away the last one that had given him leaving him a couple of bills and some coins in his pocket when he ran out of the orphanage, otherwise, he would have ended up scavenging for his daily meal.
As he walked down the streets of Manhattan, his mind went over his baffling encounter with Amerlaine and her mom. He could not get over the fact that there was an actual Wizarding community right under his very nose. A shard of hurt slashed through him again as the feeling of being cheated out of his true heritage returned. If he had been brought up knowing who and what he really was, he would have become much more adept at wielding magic. He could have been a part of that secret community of wizards and witches. He could have learned more about magic, about the Magical world, about his parents, and about himself.
It also hurt to know that his existence, or the real him - Harry Potter, had been dismissed offhand as nothing more than a bedtime story! Mr. and Mrs. Figg told him that it was for his own protection...because of the Prophecy...because he was the Prophecy. But what was the Prophecy all about? And why did they not trust him enough to it to him?
He took three, long and deep breaths to calm himself. He did not want to have an 'episode' right here in the middle of Central Park. He will get his answers soon enough. And he will not stop until they tell him EVERYTHING! He willed himself to stop thinking and just soaked in the nice, crisp night air of the park and its accompanying sounds. Before long, he was rounding the corner and bending under the break in the wall that opened up to the sidewalk that was right across St. Milburga's.
The moment he stepped on the curb and glanced up at the only place he ever called home, he knew that something wasn't right. He crossed the street cautiously, turning his head from left to right not only out of habit, but because he could feel the heavy cloud of doom floating closer, almost settling down on him. When he set his foot on the first stone step, two things happened at the same time. Two loud cracks and a blood-curdling scream slashed across the still air. Rushing through the rest of the steps, he flung the black double-doors and ran into the dark receiving area. The sight that greeted him was something right out of the crime novels that he used to read. It was an execution scene, but instead of guns, the executioners were holding wands.
These are dangerous times, Henry. Mathilda's voice seemed to echo inside his brain.
Four men in black hooded cloaks, their faces covered with black painted masks, were spread around the room, wands pointed at the kneeling figure of Mrs. Figg. Even in the darkness, Henry could see the bruises on her face and the pure terror in her eyes as she stared at the writhing figure of Mr. Figg on the ground. A fifth man was standing near Mr. Figg, laughing maniacally as he watched the old man foam at the mouth and convulse sporadically. Henry wanted to scream, but his throat had closed up, his body paralyzed by the incomprehensible horror before him.
One of the men pulled at Mrs. Figg's hair, his wand pointed at her throat. "Tell us who you were hiding in this place. Why was this rundown hovel so heavily protected by magic?"
"He said that this was an orphanage, but we didn't find any children anywhere," the one on Mrs. Figg's left was saying. "Where are the children, Squib?" He snarled pulling harder at her hair. Mrs. Figg whimpered.
The man torturing Mr. Figg sneered then pointed his wand at the old man again. A red light flashed from it and connected with Mr. Figg, sending him into another bout of thrashing and spitting. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, blood seeping from his nostrils and lips. Mrs. Figg screamed again.
The man on her left slapped her hard across the face as the other man continued to send those red flashes at Mr. Figg.
"Shut up! Just tell us what we want to know!" Another flash of red light and Mr. Figg was crawling on the floor, retching as convulsions wracked his body.
"STOP IT! STOP IT!"
Six sets of eyes swiveled to where Henry stood. Two wands were also now pointed in his direction. It was only then that he realized that he had left his perch from behind the column. Mrs. Figg's face turned deathly pale.
"Henry! Run! Run!" she shrieked.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here," the heavy-set man nearest Henry said. "Who are you, boy? Are you the son of these two useless fools here?"
"Perhaps he knows where the children are. Ask him," another one of the hooded figures said.
The man standing beside Mr. Figg kicked the old man. "Is that your son? Maybe I should try my hand on him, eh?"
When Mr. Figg did not respond, another red flash from the man's wand caused him to writhe and twist, his fingers clawing at the wooden floor.
"I SAID STOP IT!" Henry shouted. His body felt like it was on fire, his fingers twitching as he tried to control the building rage inside him. There was something clawing at the pit of stomach, inching upward, wriggling into the pores of his skin...
"Oh-ho-ho! We have a spunky one here, Rowle. Why don't you practice the Killing curse on him. I hear you're in sore need of it," the one on Harry's right laughed.
"Fuck you, Avery! If you don't shut up I'll practice on you!" Rowle, who turned out to be the man torturing Mr. Figg, snarled, his head whipping toward Avery.
The other hooded figures, except for the one standing a few feet to Henry's left, snickered. Henry had the distinct sensation that the man was intently watching him.
"Henry, please go! Leave us and don't come back!" Mrs. Figg pleaded, earning her another backhanded slap from the man holding her by the hair. "I told you to shut up!"
"Let's kill them all so we can get out of here. This is a waste of time," Avery said.
"Wait! Take a look at the boy, doesn't he look familiar? He looks like someone we used to know, doesn't he?" the one to his left, the one who had been silent this whole time said. The other wizards followed his lead, their masked faces fixated now on Henry's.
"Fuck me...he does look a lot like James Potter, eh?"
The Silent One waved his wand and Henry felt the hairs on his forehead lifting.
A collective gasp broke the silence then, all wands were instantly pointing at him.
"Well, well, well...if it isn't the Chosen One himself," Rowle snarled.
"We're done here," the Silent One said as he waved his wand again. Henry felt what seemed like invisible cords lashing around his torso, pinning his arms to his sides, immobilizing him.
"Dispose of those two. We have no use for them anymore. It appears that we have found what we have come for. We're leaving now," the Silent One said again.
Rowle pointed his wand at the now unconscious Mr. Figg and said something that Henry could not understand. A flash of green light surged from his wand and hit Mr. Figg with such force that it made his body bounce on the floor like a grotesque ragdoll. Mrs. Figg let out a bloodcurdling screech, her hands reaching out for her dead husband.
The man holding her pointed his own wand at the distraught Mrs. Figg and uttered the two words that Henry will never, ever forget - "Avada Kedavra! The stream of green light that came from the man's wand hit her squarely in the face and Mrs. Figg fell on the floor spread eagle, head twisted in an unnatural angle, the eyes that were staring at Henry just a few minutes ago now woefully blank and devoid of life.
"MRS. FIGG! DAMN YOU ALL!" Henry screamed and the creature rearing from within finally burst forth from the pit of his innermost being; raging, stampeding, breaking through every pore of his body, setting every nerve ending aflame, bathing his skin in a blinding white light which exploded in a tidal wave of fury and pure, unadulterated hatred. It shattered the unseen bonds around his body and the last remnants of his personal restraints, both physical and mental.
The sheer force of Henry's wrath shook the building to its rafters, burning everything in its path, eating away at the very air that had grown heated and volatile.
And when the dust had finally settled, only one man was left standing.
The man fell on his knees, barely able to open his eyes, barely breathing, totally spent.
The last thing he saw before wearily giving in to the darkness that was swiftly pulling him down its sweet embrace was a pair of blue eyes and a soft voice calling him by a name he was given at birth but cannot bring himself to accept just yet.
HARRY.
A/N: So? How was it? Please let me know. I'm looking forward to hearing from you all. Again thanks for reading!
Cheers! Liz