Finding Harry and Salvedra's secret lair
53. Akhr Makan
The sandstorm descended and the road ahead was barely visible. They were running blind.
Hermione fired a shield charm over the back of the truck as they left the compound but it wasn't powerful enough and they were soon drowning in thick, brown dust.
Neville hastily conjured a blanket to keep Ottiline covered. 'She's in a really bad way!' he shouted over the whirling winds.
Hermione focused hard, dredging the recesses of her mind for something that might help fend off the brutality of the sandstorm, but it was almost impossible to think straight as Henrik's driving grew increasingly erratic and the truck slumped into sweeping dunes. The tyres spun and groaned to release them and hit a hidden rock, jolting them into the air. The truck crunched noisily, its exhaust spluttering loudly, choking on the clogging sand. Henrik ploughed onwards but at this rate the truck was likely to break – marooning them in unsurvivable conditions.
'We have to stop, take cover,' Draco said. His face looked like he'd been embalmed in clay. 'We're far enough away now from those goggle-eyed fuckers.'
But Hermione was concentrating hard, so hard her head was hurting with the effort and she bit her tongue. Blood swirled into her mouth; hot, metallic, tangy.
She could do this… yes, she could do this… A burst of bright purple blossomed inside of her.
Gunter's words were swimming around her head: Focus and flow… Focus and flow…
Could she create and sustain a colour-magic shield able to withstand this sandstorm?
'What are you doing!?' Draco cried.
She opened her mouth to reply but a gobbet of blood spilled out.
'Stop!' Draco shook her with surprising violence. His eyes were graphite grey slits in a caked, white mask. 'I know what you're fucking doing!' he said scathingly, 'and you can't do it alone.'
He grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her close. She could sense him feeling for her colour with his mind. His white was blazing, cut through with accelerating whorls of deepening ashy grey – his anxiety, his fear. But it was strong, resonant - much stronger than herself, she realised.
'We need to do this together, beautiful,' he said in low tones, his thumb caressed her wrist, 'or I don't think we're going to make it out of here alive.'
'I killed someone,' she said suddenly - and tears were blurring what little there was of her vision amidst the swirling sand. 'I panicked – I only meant to blast… but I lost control.'
He gave her a crooked, half-smile. 'You saved my life.'
He leant into her and kissed her, his hand weaving into her hair, which was dancing furiously in the wind. She kissed him back and as she did she assiduously knitted their colours together in her mind's eye.
An extraordinary surge of magic powered through her veins; hot, molten colour-magic, but there was more… raw, unchannelled leptons, thrusting an explosive course, almost bursting from their bodies. Somehow, they'd combined…
Draco audibly gasped and blinked hard and Hermione felt like her blood was boiling inside of her.
A shimmering veil, like a clear soapy bubble shot through with a gleaming, violet iridescence was taking shape… expanding in a jellied, glutinous arc to encompass the spatial area of the truck in motion. It glowed ultraviolet.
Their eyes lifted to the dazzling white shield, shot through with a gleaming kaleidoscopic tapestry of colours, hovering high above them.
Neville's face was bathed in pristine, fluorescent white… so bright his teeth and the whites of his eyes were glowing. He burst out laughing, loud and uproarious.
The feeling of combining magic like this was utterly, unexpectedly beautiful, even sensual … the flow of feeling between them was tangible, visceral, exciting… and yet soothing, too.
Hermione and Draco held each other close, bodies intertwined and she sighed onto his shoulder… For a moment she thought if she was to die, if she had to die, then this would be a perfect moment.
Gliding through rooms, down passageways, in one door, out the other… white to lilac to an oddly comforting shade of grey that she knew was also Draco… they wandered through a glittering landscape, floated effortlessly across sparkling vistas... There were glimpses of their pasts, their memories… even things they'd hidden, buried deep within … but with Draco she was fearless – and he with her…
Except… What's in here? she asked… and here? Forbidding in their glare, so bright it hurt.
Not today… but not never. I promise.
And he was a flare of vivid white beside her, around her… and the movement of his whiteness coursing through her was arousing, potent, ecstatic.
His mouth greedily sought hers and they fell to the floor of the truck – locked together…
What I'd do to make love right now, he sighed… but his voice was within her.
'If only…' she replied. He smiled against her mouth… and then they were kissing, open-mouthed, basking in an exquisite wet heat, sighing, moaning… lost in each other.
Anteractivity… unalloyed, untrammeled.
Yes… His body was pulsating, white-hot…
So beautiful…
The Epsilon+ and the Gamma… Searing and extraordinary, the call of their blood burnished into a bright, irradiating, exultant song. This charged flow flooding through her with supernova lustre was one of the most heavenly feelings she'd ever experienced.
Focus and flow…
'I'm here, guys,' came Neville's grinning voice, loud and clear against the pelting sand and dirt and the screech of the wind bouncing off the shield they'd constructed.
The truck sped along, straight and clean, picking up speed, free to fly…
'Focus and flow,' Draco murmured.
It felt like hours, days, weeks had passed… time held no meaning. And then suddenly it did. The dense bank of cloud had rolled over and a few random sprays of orange dust were dispersing, scattering, then gone.
The truck chugged hotly. Hermione could hear Henrik grinding through the gears up front and the sudden pealing sobs of a frightened child, clutched into the folds of Thelonious's robe.
Hermione gasped at the shock of it… and Draco was staring at her with warm, grey eyes the colour of the clouds that were fast scudding over the far horizon.
The truck eased to a halt with a thunk of the brakes and a skid of sand beneath its tyres and Henrik's door clattered open.
He tramped wearily towards them.
'I assume that was you guys back here.' He cast his eye over the three of them. 'Gotta say a huge thank you. That was fucking miraculous.'
'Don't thank me,' Neville said generously. 'It was them.' He nodded at Hermione and Draco. 'Over two hours I reckon you held that shield… extraordinary.' He grinned amiably. 'You seemed to be rather enjoying it…'
Hermione squirmed. 'Oh lord, we didn't do anything embarrassing?'
Neville vehemently shook his head. 'No. Not at all. Everything was … as it should be.' And he gave her a smile that was clearly meant to say more than simple reassurance. 'Oh! And you gave off an incredible glow! Like a neon-whitish-purplish sort of corona-thing… hurt the eyes if you stared too long.'
Hermione would have felt more celebratory had it not been for the bone-crunching exhaustion that had swamped her since releasing the shield.
'Jesus, Hermione, you're a right fucking mess,' Draco said tenderly. He tore a strip off the bottom of his shirt, exposing his midriff, and began wiping layers of congealed sand and blood from her face. 'Have you still got any water up there?' he asked Henrik.
Henrik dipped from view and returned with a half-full bottle.
'Don't waste it,' Hermione said, but too late. Draco had soaked the material and was scrubbing at the engrained filth on her face.
'Here, drink the rest,' he said, giving her the bottle.
She looked at Henrik who nodded. 'There's more. Take it.'
'Where the hell are we?' Neville asked.
'Somewhere in the Sahara,' Henrik grunted in reply. 'Reckon The Sudan's about fifty kilometres in that direction.' He pointed due South. 'I just drove straight… was scared of screwing up.'
'We need somewhere called Akhr Makan,' Hermione said, recalling the old lady at Qalb Min Hijr. 'They took Harry there.'
Draco pushed sand-crusted hair away from his eyes. He suddenly looked faded, diminished with exhaustion. 'How do you know this?'
'The old lady watching over Hakim – the little boy? She told me.'
'Thelonious says Hakim's father is with the Wahdah… he thinks that's a tribe or something, hanging out near the temple in the desert,' Henrik said. Clearly, Thelonious had understood more than she'd feared, Hermione thought with relief. Henrik eyed Draco with a worried frown. 'I think you two need to come into the cabin for a bit… You alright with that, mate?' he asked Neville.
'Sure. It's not as hot as it was.'
She hadn't been imagining that, then. The sky was still overcast and muggy but the faint rosy glow on the horizon, sundown's herald, was a stark warning that this barren landscape would soon be plunged into chill, impenetrable darkness.
Thelonious stepped out of the cab holding Hakim. He was a beautiful child, Hermione thought. She held out her arms to take him, a rush of warm affection swelling inside of her. He stared up at her with large, glassy, black eyes.
Thelonious hauled himself over the tailgate onto the open truck-bed and knelt next to Ottiline's unconscious form. He felt for her pulse.
Neville pointed out the bloodied mess in her side. 'Tried a few healing charms, but nothing's helped.'
Thelonious laid his hands on her, then drew his wand and cast Vulnera Sanentur.
'Where did Gunter go?' Draco asked.
'Hopefully away from the storm…' Henrik sighed. 'If we find Wahdah, there might be folks can tell us how to get to this Akhr Makan?'
'Means The Last Place,' Thelonious muttered, a forlorn look on his face.
'Did you understand what the old lady was saying about the Alaydaa and the Aleuyan?' Hermione asked Thelonious.
'The Alaydaa are the soldiers of Alsharika… Gilgad. The Aleuyan are their spies.'
Hermione looked at Hakim, nestled close and dozing in her arms. 'Hopefully Hassan Aktari will be at Wahdah.'
'Maybe Wahdah isn't a place at all?' Thelonious said ruminatively. 'It means alone…Maybe it's how the fugitives from Qalb Min Hijr describe themselves?'
'But how the hell do we find a bunch of runaways?' Draco asked.
'They headed for Abu Simbel.'
'Where's that?' Henrik asked.
'Lake Nasser – due East,' Draco said. 'Shall I drive for a bit?'
'No. You're pooped.'
And he was. Moments after getting into the cab alongside Henrik, both Draco and Hermione, with Hakim slumbering in her arms, were fast asleep.
XXX
It was dark when Hermione woke up. The truck's headlights illuminated a cluster of tents in the desert – but there was the gleam of an impressively large body of water in the distance. The white disc of the moon shone onto the water, its reflection rippling.
A lamp glowed from the dusty canvas of the nearest tent. A man emerged. He had a scarf wrapped around the lower part of his face but the grim set of his dark eyes spoke of suspicion. Hermione noticed he had a roughly-hewn wand protruding from his back pocket. He shone a lantern into Henrik's face as he climbed out of the truck, shielding his eyes.
Thelonious clambered over the back of the truck to join Henrik and there was a halting conversation in process. Moments later, the man with the scarf approached the front cabin. He peered inside, his eyes flicking from Hermione's face to the young child in her arms.
He turned and nodded to Thelonious and spoke in a gruff, guttural voice. Hermione strained to hear him.
Draco was still asleep, his head resting against her. His sighing breaths billowed onto her cheek. Hakim's legs extended onto Draco's lap.
'Draco?' Hermione said in low, hushed tones.
He blinked and stirred.
'We're at Wahdah.'
This time he blinked harder and his eyes fluttered open. He slowly rolled his head away from her shoulder and gazed at her blearily. 'So soon?'
She smiled indulgently. 'We've been driving for some time.' She nodded to the trio beyond the windscreen, engaged in some kind of negotiation.
A few more orangey glows were lighting up the tents closest to them… clearly Wahdah was waking up, too.
Thelonious and the man in the scarf moved deeper into the camp. Henrik came to the passenger window and gestured to Draco to open it.
'Thelonious is fetching Hakim's father,' Henrik said, keeping his voice low.
Draco shivered at the trickle of cold air wafting through the open window. 'Hermione, are you able to reach over and dip the headlights? We're rather over-announcing ourselves.'
She strained to hit the lever without waking up Hakim, plunging them into darkness, bar the soft orange glow from the tents before them. Strange, she thought, once the lights were extinguished she could hear more – the wail of a baby, scuffling feet moving between tents and a goat's plaintive bleat.
'How's Ottiline?' she asked Henrik. It was very quiet and still at the back.
Henrik briefly disappeared from view. 'Well. She has a pulse,' he said grimly, on his return. He scrutinized the camp, a thoughtful expression on his face. 'Do you think we ask to leave her here? We could come back for her.'
'She won't be much use rescuing Harry,' Draco said, stifling a yawn. He fished his phone out of his pocket. 'No service.'
'It's not far to The Sudan,' Hermione said, looking between them. 'There might be a Portkey Office at the border.'
'She's too weak for that… Hold on. Looks like we've got company,' Henrik said, stepping into the darkness. A glint of pale light from a low-wattage torch was shuddering across the sands towards them, dark figures coming closer.
A balding man wrapped in a blue woollen cloak accompanied Thelonious.
'My boy? You have my boy?' he asked in urgent tones – thankfully in English, Hermione thought. He stared at the child sleeping across Hermione and Draco. 'We leave very fast. Lost Hakim… Was the worst time.' His limpid, brown eyes filled with tears. 'But then I hear he stay with my mother. Very sick.'
Hermione gave him a regretful look and he nodded, disconsolate.
'We need to get to a place called Akhr Makan,' Draco said.
Hassan vehemently shook his head. 'Dark place. Terrible.'
'No doubt,' Draco said drily, 'but we still need to get there. Do you know the way?'
Hassan raised his eyes upwards. 'God forgive me but I do. I, former Aleuyan. 'Tis why I flee. I vow to save my people. To find safe place.'
An ideal witness for Harry's prosecution, Hermione thought…
Draco clearly thought the same. 'We could do with you coming with us, Hassan. We plan to destroy Alsharika for good; hold the guy who ran this shit accountable.'
Hassan gave him an inscrutable smile.
'Right, let's wrap this up,' Henrik muttered. 'I'm fucking freezing.'
'We need directions to Akhr Makan, Hassan. Would be just reward for returning your son,' Draco said pithily. Hermione sensed a swirl of tension.
Thelonious was jogging back to the truck, fresh concern on his face.
'Couple of guys just Apparated into the camp…' He pointed towards the furthest tent, lost in the blackness. 'South-western corner.'
Hassan gave him a puzzled look. 'But we are alone.'
Hermione strained to hear beyond their immediate environs. The orange lanterns had gradually extinguished while they were talking, throwing them into deeper darkness. Clouds scurried across the face of the moon and there was an ominous stillness. She fancied she could hear a series of further cracks, emanating from the direction Thelonious had pointed and her stomach churned with cold fear.
'You have Aleuyan,' she hissed to Hassan.
His lip trembled and his eyes darted nervously towards the slumbering tents.
Thelonious peered into the darkness. 'Movement…' He instantly sprang away and levered himself into the back of the truck. 'Henrik…' he started to say, but an almighty boom blasted through the camp, knocking Henrik to his knees and violently slamming Hassan against the door. Hakim woke up with a start, gasping for air.
'HENRIK?' Hermione screeched. 'Are you okay?' Hakim had started to cry…
A fiery maelstrom lit up the night sky; towering flames barreling upwards, wreathed in a voluminous shroud of thick, choking smoke. Shots were now being fired and dark-clad shapes were sprinting through the flames towards them, wands outstretched.
Henrik was making heavy work of clawing himself up from the ground. A volley of red stunners flew over his head and across the bonnet of the truck towards the tents. Thelonious and Neville…
Draco flipped open the passenger door and roughly hauled Hassan into the cabin then jumped out.
'What are you doing?' Hermione squeaked in horror.
The Alaydaa were weaving through the burning tents, steadily advancing amidst a constant stream of wandfire. The camp resounded to the heart-stopping wail of agonized screams and desperate cries for help.
Draco hoisted Henrik to his feet and stumbled with him to the back of the truck.
Hassan stared at the camp, mouth agape in horror. Hakim scampered onto his lap and threw his arms around his neck, weeping piteously.
Draco jumped into the driver's seat, jangling the keys, and the truck grunted into gear and he reversed, wheels spinning, as fast as he could.
An Alaydaa stopped and levelled his wand at the truck. There was a blinding white flash and the windscreen shattered, sending shards of glass flying at them.
Hermione instinctively ducked, relieved that the vehicle was still in motion, spinning backwards at ever greater speed. She dragged her eyes forwards. The windscreen was a jagged, gaping hole but the burning camp was getting smaller…
Draco was staring fixedly at the wing mirror, his hand moving rapidly on the steering wheel, trying to navigate around darkened shapes that she realised, as they passed, were rocks… He spun the truck into a crunching handbrake turn and the truck bounced heavily over pits and furrows in the sand and earth away from the camp.
Hermione tried to block out the bawling cries of the child, clutching onto his father. She frantically brushed globules of shattered glass from Draco's clothes and hair, not caring that her fingers were soon bleeding. He gave her a desperate, wordless look and kept on driving into the darkness.
XXX
'Are we far enough away?' Hassan asked sometime later. A thin band of dawn light was peeking on the horizon.
Draco had steered the truck far beyond the danger of the desert onto a strip of potholed concrete leading to a lakeside inlet. Lake Nasser rippled before them, a vast, body of indigo water. On the far side the dusty wasteland stretched as far as the eye could see, an endless sea of sand, grit and boulders. Hermione thought it looked like the moon had fallen to earth.
Draco glanced in the mirrors. 'Should think so.' He ground the truck to a halt and switched off the engine. 'Has to be… we're running on fumes.'
A hot wind was already gusting through the gaping windscreen. Hakim had stopped wailing some time ago and fallen into a sweaty slumber. Hassan had spent the entire journey furtively wiping his eyes and emitting sad little sobs into his beard. He occasionally closed his eyes and muttered in Arabic, rocking gently in an attempt to comfort both himself and the child. Now that the truck had stopped he desultorily creaked open the passenger door and stepped outside, displacing Hakim, who he gently laid out on the seat. He walked a few feet away from the truck and moved behind a large rock where he remained.
Hermione fell against Draco. Her head was pounding and she felt like she had dirt and sand lining her throat, scratching at her eyes. He slung an arm around her shoulder and drew her closer. She could feel the soft thump-thump of his heart pulsing through his whiteness. For a moment it was like taking a warm bath.
He gently kissed her forehead, then said: 'As soon as Hassan gets back, we're going to have to get everyone together to talk about what we do next.'
She tucked herself into the crook of Draco's arm and sighed. She couldn't remember ever feeling this tired. But she was also strangely happy, despite their dire circumstances, as she watched the sun slowly rise across Lake Nasser.
Part of her wished that this moment could last forever. Life and its feelings stripped to the raw; unadulterated essence.
'I love you,' she whispered.
She felt a spike of joy in his white warmth. 'I love you, too,' he said, his voice muffled into her hair.
XXX
Hassan, Neville and Thelonious decided to explore the shoreline in the hope that they encountered a stray felucca or a friendly fisherman. Some means of crossing the lake… Akhr Makan, Hassan told them, was located on the opposite banks.
Early morning Saharan heat was just about bearable, although Hermione's clothes were sticking to her and she was parched. She used this enforced respite to attend to Ottiline, applying a string of healing spells – pretty much everything in her arsenal. At least she'd regained consciousness…
Henrik and Draco ventured a short distance from the truck to 'dune-slide' with Hakim, followed by a swim in the cool, turquoise waters lapping the bank. Hermione marvelled at the uncanny resilience of children as Hakim giggled gleefully.
'Go on,' Ottiline said, squeezing her hand. 'I'll be fine.'
'Are you sure?'
Ottiline nodded, her eyes dulled and encircled by a green bruise colour. She was remarkably similar-looking to Maurice – small and wiry with a keen, narrow face. It occurred to Hermione that they weren't partners, but brother and sister.
Hermione stripped off to her underwear and dived into the water. Draco grabbed her from behind and threw her further out. She squealed in delight, reinvigorated, bubbling with sudden effervescent joy. The sun was beating down now, hard, white and glaring, but the water was cool and refreshing and felt like soft silk over her tired limbs. The terrain was glowing rich russet gold in the sunshine.
They splashed and played like children, taking Hakim for piggyback rides through the shallows. He was remarkably trusting, Hermione thought, considering they were strangers.
She lay down in the water, allowing her wild, bushy hair to flow freely… chill currents ebbed and flowed against her temples and she listened to her soft, sighing breaths.
When she surfaced, something in the atmosphere had changed. There was a repeated barking cough and a choking sound. Henrik was holding Hakim and pointing things out to him on the lake, keeping him distracted.
A bedraggled, thin figure approached the water's edge… Hermione could sense his reddish-brown gaze.
Gunter…
She turned around and Draco was on the truck-bed with Ottiline, mopping blood from her face and offering her water.
She Apparated to them. 'Gunter's here.'
And then he was; battered and bruised with a bleeding sore above his eye.
'How is she?' he asked, a tragic look on his face. He already knew...
Hermione gave him a regretful half-smile. She could feel his redness burning.
'I've known her since she was a small child,' he said sadly. 'And her brother, too. They're… family.' HIS family.
Gunter shook his wrist and his wand appeared in his hand. 'We have an agreement for such times.'
'Not necessary. She's going…' Draco murmured. He wiped frothing blood from Ottiline's mouth.
'But we can help ease her pain,' Hermione said.
Sensing Gunter's presence, Ottiline reached for him and whispered in halting French. Gunter kissed her on the cheek and then held her in his arms, holding back sobs of raw anguish - trying to stay as calm as he could. Hermione found his bravery incredibly distressing and was barely able to act because a powerful sob was constricting her throat.
'Place your hands on her,' Draco said, slipping his arms around her.
Hermione closed her eyes and drew on Draco's reservoir of white warmth.
She built her purple colour, allowing it to float and sway and gently ease itself into Ottiline… She was a murky smoky-grey - fading fast.
Softly, sinuously, Hermione threaded a path deeper into Ottiline – drawing the sharp edge of pain away. Cleansing. Purifying…
Her smoky-grey was dissipating, becoming ever more translucent, a gauzy wisp that gradually melted away… washing into a vast emptiness, that was suddenly cold, like someone had switched the sun off.
Gunter held Ottiline, pale and peaceful, in his arms. He was crying; large, silent tears spilling onto his cheeks.
'Thank you,' he mouthed.
XXX
Gunter whisked Ottiline's body deep into the dunes before Hakim was aware what had happened… which was just as well as Hassan, Neville and Thelonious returned with a felucca – and two small children.
Draco shook his head. 'What's this? What's going on?'
'Where's Ottiline?' Neville asked and was surprisingly emotional when Henrik whispered what had happened in his ear.
'Apologies for this intrusion…' Hassan said, 'but some of Qalb Min Hijr hide on island, not far from here… I tell them what happens with Wahdah and they cannot shield these poor souls now – not with Alaydaa so close…' His voice broke with the weight of emotion and loss bearing down on him.
'We didn't have a choice, Draco,' Thelonious said in apologetic tones.
Draco momentarily buried his head in his hands, then snapped to a decision with a heavy sigh. 'Right… here's what we do… If Hassan explains precisely where to find Akhr Makan, some of us can take this boat there…'
'We are too many for Akhr Makan!' Hassan said, throwing his hands into the air. 'Is underground. Tiny tunnels. Would be—' he slapped his hands together, like two large pieces of meat, '-jammed up.'
Draco acknowledged this with an irritated nod. 'So four of us take the boat, while the others – including myself – take the truck with Hassan and the kids and head for the border… Hassan, we have a safe house. When we have defeated Alsharika, you can come home.'
'Yes. That is the best way. Only way…' Hassan agreed. He rubbed his forehead. 'We fetch petrol for the van and drive to Sudan.' He gazed at them with wide, beseeching eyes. 'I am so very sorry for this trouble that has been brought upon you people… I – I don't even know all your names. Or anything of you. But you show me great kindness and I will never forget this.'
'What are the names of the children?' Hermione asked. She'd been scrabbling to pull on her clothes, keenly aware that she was still in her bra and knickers.
Hassan introduced them… A boy and a girl. Similar age to Hakim. The boy, Chibale, was round-shouldered, hunched-over. But the girl, Farida, clutched Thelonious's hand with fierce determination. She wanted to be safe, to survive… and had somehow discerned she had to take advantage of this opportunity.
Henrik looked skyward. 'Okay, it's getting very hot, guys, we have to move fast, whatever we're doing.' He looked hottest of all with Hakim draped across his back.
Draco turned to Hermione. He looked downcast, anxious.
She mustered a bright smile. 'I have to find Harry... they need you to drive the truck.'
Henrik stepped forwards. 'Hey. If there's a way the truck can avoid the official border, I'll drive. You two find Harry…'
'I can get us across at Argeen,' Hassan said.
'I'll go back,' Thelonious said, looking down at little Farida, who was staring up at him, a pugnacious look on her face.
'Hassan, we heard the latest attack here involved… a child,' Draco said hesitantly. 'Did you hear this, too?'
A look of deep bemusement stole across Hassan's face. 'No, no… not a child… a DONKEY… A donkey that blew up!' He mimed an explosion with his hands and the children laughed, although Hermione didn't think they'd laugh so hard if they understood what he was saying.
'Many die,' he added, and a dark veil fell over his eyes. 'This is why we HIDE children… We know what they do… I know.' His face crumpled in regret.
Draco looked at Neville, who was flagging. 'Stay or go?' Neville was silent. 'There's no shame going,' Draco added. 'This isn't a competitive sport.'
'Stay,' Neville said assertively.
Hermione pulled out the Folkvangr rock and gave it to Thelonious. 'Alert the others you're coming.'
XXX
Four of them - Hermione, Draco, Neville and Gunter – headed upstream in the boat, following Hassan's directions.
The water was dappled and bright and the boat surged forwards, leaving a glistening V-shape in its wake.
The sun was beating down on them as they sailed. Neville groaned, chafing at the lack of shelter. Hermione wondered if it would have been better if he'd travelled to The Sudan with the others.
Hermione hung over the edge of the boat and lowered her hand into the water, relishing the cool water spooling through her fingers.
'Look!' Draco cried as they passed the colossal statues of Abu Simbel – four renderings of the Pharaoh Ramesses II - carved into a huge flat-topped sandstone rock. One of the statues was missing a head, but even without this perfect symmetry, the sight was awe-inspiring. A narrow, dark entrance led into the temple; dark, forbidding, exciting.
Even though it was very early, streams of tourists were already parading along the wide sandy apron in front of the temple and there was a buzzy hubbub of traffic approaching the area. A motor-boat speeded noisily past. Their felucca bounced and sploshed in the choppy, skidding waters left in the boat's wake.
To Hermione's delight, another temple came into view – similarly carved into a soaring sandstone block. Six tall, stately figures, sporting the emblematic, high head-dresses of Ancient Egyptian royalty, were standing in shallow alcoves, facing out to the lake.
'Dedicated to Ramesses' wife, Nefertari… a reputed beauty,' Neville announced in his best professorial voice.
They dreamily watched the glorious temples vanish as they rounded a bend and the parched lunarscape returned.
A few miles further and they navigated between two islands. Gunter then steered the boat towards a small, featureless bay. Stretching back from the bay was a high ridge of grey granite rocks.
'Where are the buildings?' Neville asked, a note of concern in his voice.
'Hassan mentioned tunnels,' Hermione said.
They were sweating profusely by the time they'd secured the boat. They scampered across the sun-drenched landscape to take shelter in the shade of the lofty rock formation.
The rock was gnarly and jagged, adorned with crudely-cut etchings of a circle with eight straight lines spaced at intervals around its circumference.
'Are these primitive runes?' Neville muttered, perplexed.
Hermione scanned the surrounding area, eyes alighting on a hulking, misshapen rock a few hundred metres away, set amidst a pile of broken rubble. There were flat indentations in the sand and shallow ruts leading from the lake.
Something… some things, maybe…had been dragged there from the shore.
She headed purposefully across the scorching sands towards the great rock's shadow. The air was dusty, dry and searing, scalding her gullet.
One whole side of the rock was smooth. It reminded her of the entrance to the Herb Healing facility in Wanaka. Hassan had given them an access-all-areas password – 'Kalib Kabir' - but before she could use it, Draco had joined her.
'I'd rather I went in with Gunter, in case there's Dark Flux,' he said, awkwardly. 'You and Neville can be look-outs.'
Hermione gave him a firm stare. 'It has to be me, Draco. I sense Harry's colour.'
Draco held her gaze, then shook his head in exasperation. 'The first sign of anything … fatal… you make a run for it. Is that clear?'
XXX
Neville and Gunter stayed by the boat. Neville would send a Patronus to warn if any danger was headed their way.
'We can't just swagger in through the front door,' Draco said, hunting for another portal. He circled a further rocky outcrop and beckoned her over, pointing to a metal manhole sealed into the rock. But Hassan's password didn't work.
Hermione prodded the metal with the tip of her wand. It sank into the metal, which then reflated. So she drew the shape from the granite rocks into the metal.
The metal instantly swirled and dissolved.
Draco promptly eased himself down and out of sight. She followed, sliding down a thin, slippery tube before landing heavily on a concrete floor.
They'd arrived in a featureless, concrete room, lit by a single dangling, naked lightbulb. Hermione glanced back up the tube - now dark, closed – and a pang of claustrophobic fear throbbed through her.
Draco indicated a door up ahead. 'That's our way in.'
Beyond the door was an empty, poorly-lit passageway, cloaked in silence, stretching far from the metallic portal back towards the lake.
'Hassan said prisoners are kept beyond the medical centre,' Draco said in low tones. 'But his directions were from the front door. We're back-to-front.'
The passageway widened considerably as they walked, arriving at a set of double-doors. Two rooms faced each other: 'SAHIR' and 'SAHIRA'.
'Toilets? Changing rooms?' Hermione suggested. Wands in hand, they entered 'SAHIRA'.
Draco raised his eyebrows at a selection of ready-to-wear warrior costumes on hangers. 'Useful disguise?'
Hermione quickly discarded her sweat-soaked, dusty apparel and donned an Alaydaa suit. The skin-tight, figure-hugging black costume was surprisingly cool and light.
'That's pretty fucking hot,' Draco growled, eyeing her in approval. 'Nice set of goggles…' he said, plucking a pair from a box.
'Pass me that, will you?' Hermione said, pointing to a black, metallic tunic with a detachable hood and a ragged scarf. 'And now - the Men's department.'
XXX
They passed through the double-doors and were met with yet another eerie silence – though Hermione detected a faint whisper of a sound – like a cat mewling.
Her heart suddenly thumped in her chest. There'd been a fleeting trace of Harry...
She stared straight ahead, senses straining to recapture the slightest smidgen of gloomy grey-green.
They jogged onwards with purpose. Empty offices lined the corridor on both sides.
One elongated, darkened room featured a long window extending from the floor to the ceiling.
Hermione peered through the dusty glass. Pictures… lots of pictures… in a long, row.
'Oh hell,' she breathed. In the centre of the wall-display was a tall portrait…
'Salvedra.'
'Where?!'
'There!' she said, jabbing her finger at the glass.
Draco visibly relaxed. 'Oh… a painting.' He surveyed it curiously. 'You know, I'm amazed Ephraim and his ginormous ego tolerates all these bleeding shrines to Salvedra in his company offices… is it the same as the picture in Arcana?'
'Similar.' But then she jumped away from the glass, heart pounding…
'HIS EYES! They moved!'
Draco immediately seized her elbow and steered her away from the painting, deeper into the corridor. 'I thought it was only landscape paintings that can be seen through!'
'It is! But there's something special about those particular paintings. I'm sure of it!'
'Let's just get this over with and get out…'
But the corridor only seemed to be getting longer, thinner, and Hermione felt sure the light was flickering, fading… although she couldn't see where the light actually came from.
'Draco… When – when you were in America and did that Visual Resonation spell, did you use a particular incantation?' she asked tremulously.
'Nothing memorable.'
Hermione needed to be sure… 'I used a phrase – a Latin phrase - one your father, I think, had written on the back of Salvedra's photo…' she shot a furtive glance at Draco as she spoke, '– You see Salvedra repeated that phrase – which I don't want to say out loud – when I was at Arcana, and then at Atalaya, and – and you've heard it too – all of you – in Bill's study.'
Draco looked at her askance. 'I didn't say that. I think I'd have remembered.'
They passed multiple darkened rooms and squinted through the glass door or window into each one …
'You fear it's a summons, don't you?' he asked.
'Yes,' she said bluntly. 'I think I invited him in.'
'Into where? YOU?' Draco asked in horrified tones. He watched her as she pressed her forehead against the cool glass of a window.
Harry…
She twisted the door-handle… but Draco's hand clamped down on hers.
'Answer me, Hermione… do you feel you invited him into you? That he's somehow marked you?'
She looked at him, a grave expression on her face. 'I fear I made a mistake…' The door clicked open.
It was warm and musty and there was the lingering waxy scent of recently extinguished candles.
A chink of faint light emanated from a second door, deeper inside… Draco eased the door open, wand poised to strike, and they found themselves in a small, windowless study, lit by a single, guttering candle.
A large ebony desk dominated one half of the room, piled high with books and parchments and a large, metal globe.
'Gracious. An Armiliary Sphere!' Hermione said, spellbound… 'Extremely rare. Dates from the time of Ptolemy.'
Draco was thumbing through an open book on the desk but then his eyes lifted to the wall.
'Vitruvian Man,' he murmured.
Hermione followed his gaze, alighting on a large vellum copy of Leonardo Da Vinci's famous ink drawing of 'Vitruvian Man' – a naked man, who looked, at first glance, like he had eight limbs – four arms and four legs - but in reality the man was striking different poses in simultaneous time; a sort of holographic effect.
He was set within a circle overlaid by a square – or was it the other way round?
'It's meant to show man at his most perfect,' Draco said, 'our divine proportions. The text here's written backwards.' He pointed to a faded script under the picture. 'The circle represents the feminine. And the square's masculine. Symbolic, some say, of the perfect balance between the sexes... no idea if that's true or not.'
Hermione grinned at him. 'I didn't know you were into this stuff, Draco…'
Draco gave a diffident shrug. 'I kind of like arcane esoterica… like alchemy… and old instruments like these…' His hand brushed a range of medical equipment - old-fashioned, possibly antique – ranged on a wooden sideboard. He picked up a few strange contraptions, a thoughtful expression on his face. There was a cabinet underneath. Draco threw open the doors releasing an icy breath of air.
Hermione continued to study Vitruvian Man. Someone had written supplementary notes in a sharp, scratchy hand alongside the diagram. It wasn't a copy of Da Vinci's handiwork – but the ink was very faded.
Salvedra wrote this… The thought rang loud and true inside of her.
What was it about 'Vitruvian Man' that interested him? The perfectibility of the human form?
She impetuously unpinned the picture up and shrunk it, stowing it in her bra.
'Hermione…' Draco said in low, worried tones. He was examining a tray of test-tubes – one vial in particular. The glass tube emanated a soft, golden glow but contained a maroon liquid that sloshed from one end of the vial to the other as Draco strained to read the label.
'This is written in runes – those same blasted runes Canaro used on his Pensieve. I think it's Harry's blood.'
'HARRY'S?' Hermione instantly reached out to grab the tray… but Draco briskly returned it the cabinet, slamming the doors shut.
Cold dread lurched through her. 'Maybe they give prisoners a medical before locking them up?'
'I don't know… There's other trays for other people in there. People we know – like Sylvestra.' He glanced up at the blank wall. 'You've taken Vitruvian Man.'
'Yes. Someone had written notes on it…'
They locked eyes… both knowing.
'Keep it safe.'
They returned to the long corridor - still dim, deserted – and ventured deeper into the complex.
Hermione was bewildered that there didn't seem to be anyone here… and yet her senses were screaming the opposite.
The corridor finally ended with a concrete wall, stained with damp black mould - wet to the touch.
Hermione shivered. 'We're under the lake,' she said, feeling more entombed than ever.
There was a final room with a long window to their left. It was locked.
Her breath fogged the glass. 'Kalib Kabir…' she murmured and the glass evaporated.
XXX
A long, thin pool of dense black water bisected the room. The other side, across the water, had a raised, rugged stone floor abutting a black-tiled wall with a wide, metal door decorated with golden spiky oblong shapes, versions of the 'rune' they'd used to access the building.
Hermione spotted a transparent sheet floating on the pool. She summoned it and tentatively stepped on board.
'Where are you going?' Draco asked.
'Over there.' The raft tipped a little and a dribble of black liquid hastened towards her. She sidestepped it and arms aloft, sought her balance. But the raft refused to move… 'I feel like I'm in one of those computer games the boys like to play,' Hermione grumbled. 'Aren't you coming?'
Draco looked around the shadowy room. 'There's no way out of here, Hermione. I think we head back.'
Hermione had been quietly mouthing every single charm she thought might shift the raft across the narrow channel to the opposite side... resorting in the end to colour-magic.
The raft surged softly, smoothly.
She then scooted the raft back to Draco with a flick of her hand. 'Please don't leave me to go through on my own, Draco… Harry could be there.'
'Through WHERE?'
'The door,' Hermione said.
'What door?'
'The door RIGHT HERE!' Hermione groaned.
Draco looked at her and his face drained of colour. 'There isn't a door, Hermione.'
'Yes there is.' Why couldn't he see it? She tugged it ajar… a soft, whistling sound blew an eddy of stale air towards them. Her head momentarily swam. Claggy greyness… 'Come on,' she said, reaching out her hand, but Draco's face was rigid with fear.
He quickly boarded the raft...
'Hermione. Your eyes...' He looked beyond her. 'Whatever you just did, undo it. Undo it, now.'
'I did nothing. I opened this blasted door!'
'THERE'S NO DOOR!'
'Harry's in there.'
Draco groaned into his hands. 'Oh shit. We're trapped! And… that fucker's here, isn't he?'
'Who? Harry?'
'No. SALVEDRA.'
Hermione felt nauseous, clammy. 'Why do you say that?'
'Because… come on, Hermione! You know he is! And your fucking EYES! They've gone BLACK! You said Sylvestra had creepy fucking eyes when she was communing or whatever the fuck it was with his portrait in Arcana. And – and you had black eyes when we went into the picture.'
'Salvedra wasn't there, Draco.' At least she didn't think he was…
'Okay…' he said quietly, reining himself in. 'Maybe I'm over-reacting? But this blasted EYE thing… Can't be good.'
She looked back to the door. 'Or maybe it's because I'm seeing something you're not?… Maybe my colour-magic works differently to yours?'
'You can see okay?'
'Perfectly…' Almost TOO perfectly. She could see every strand and fibre, every dust-mote, and the exact dimensions of every pore on Draco's face and each single drop of saliva that washed through his mouth when he spoke.
'Please. We need to move,' she said anxiously.
Draco looked undecided, but he knew he had to.
XXX
Beyond the doors was a vast cavernous space – dark and damp-smelling. High sandstone walls, streaked with rivulets of green and black mould, were adorned with hieroglyphics and a series of intriguing runic symbols.
Draco studied those nearest to him… 'Could do with better light…' Aside from their wands, the only lights were tall, streaming torches set into high indents illuminating a train of ghostly figures: Ancient Egyptian gods and goddesses parading in stately formality around the Great Hall.
'We need to find Harry and get out of here.'
'These are the same as the test-tube… and Canaro's pensieve.'
'The same ones Tony used in his thesis?'
'Similar, except I can't get my head around those – but THESE were used in secret communications when Voldemort was active.' He heaved a sigh. 'If we ever needed proof that Salvedra was in league with Voldemort – then this is it.'
'We can't be sure Salvedra's responsible for these, Draco. They're probably historic.'
Draco shook his head. 'Compared to the reliefs – the gods stuff – these are comparatively fresh… and this place strikes me as a place where Salvedra's had a free rein to run his own little research projects – with Gilgad's blessing.'
'What do they say?'
'Some bollocks about purity of blood equalling purity of soul…'
'I don't remember Voldemort being over-taxed with matters of the SOUL, Draco,' Hermione said in acid tones, 'apart from those bloody horcruxes.'
'You know what? Wouldn't surprise me if these runes are the origins of the term Mudblood…' Draco instinctively shot her a pained look… 'It's repeated over and over… and Whore-Blood… that's new.'
'And makes absolutely no sense.'
'Well, this is just manic ranting dressed up as words of wisdom, Hermione…' He visibly recoiled. 'Fucking hell. Muggles are described as SOULLESS! And it's all Purity of Blood and Purity of Purpose and Purity of Soul… Some right Messianic-sounding shit going on... Blood and Soul.'
Hermione rubbed her arms, prickling with cold. Her hands flew to her Alaydaa head-dress, ensuring she was sufficiently shielded. 'Come on,' she whispered, glancing her hand across his arm. 'Have my eyes gone back to normal yet?'
Draco pulled his eyes away from the runes to face her. 'Yeah. Thank god…'
He held her hand tightly in his own as they ventured deeper into the hall. 'Souls… All very arcane, isn't it? Almost occultist. The sort of magic Muggles think there's loads of when there isn't any…'
'Unless there is,' Hermione breathed.
'But that pre-supposes a whole load of OTHER stuff, doesn't it?' Draco looked decidedly uncomfortable. 'Notions of the occult are grounded in religiosity…'
'Remember Salvedra comes from another time, when religious discourse was more commonplace.'
'Yeah… I forget he's frigging ancient… Do we know where we're headed by the way?'
Hermione didn't… They'd been walking for an age and nothing had changed, except the door they'd used to enter this endless space was long-gone.
She'd almost forgotten why they were here at all…
A soft, shushing sound hovered in the air above them… She glanced up and gasped.
High, high above them, was a whirling scramble of aquamarines and jade greens and a swirling skein of yellow, glinting and weaving, extending rapidly - a shining string. And featureless, dark floating objects, circling round and round…
'That's rather lovely, actually,' Draco murmured, mesmerised.
But Hermione wasn't listening… Her heart was clattering wildly inside of her…
'I can sense Harry!'
'WHERE?' Draco craned to see, eyes frantically scanning the rolling clouds of colour.
'Through there!' Hermione ran ahead to the neighbouring room – another vast hallway, where an undulating green aura gently throbbed from a darkened space overhead. She waded through puddles of black water… at least she hoped it was water; her boots were unnaturally hot…
The light from the torches was barely visible in here… but a glowing, golden string was wound round a tall, dark column that scaled high into the darkness. Behind the column stretched an extensive, densely meshed pattern; glistening gossamer threads traced, with mathematical precision, the contours and lines of what looked like a rose, studded with tightly-bound pod-like packages, like butterfly cocoons.
'It's a nest,' Hermione said.
'No… It's a web,' Draco said in a bitter voice, as though his worst fears had been realised. 'Which one's Harry?'
'There!' Hermione pointed to a tall, thin cocoon dangling halfway up the web. She raised her wand-arm…
'No,' Draco breathed, gently pressing it back down. 'When you disturb the web it sends vibrations…'
He gave her a piercing look that sent chills darting through her.
'… like a summons. That's what happens with – with REAL ones.' He meant spiders…but they both knew they were really talking about Salvedra and the ghastly eight-limbed creature he'd transfigured himself into at Atalaya… the thing Hermione couldn't bear to think about.
Muted horror - hysteria, even, was brewing inside of her. She could sense Draco's whiteness – thick, creamy – almost curdling.
'I'm not leaving Harry,' she said in a determined voice.
'But - is he even alive?'
Hermione closed her eyes and felt for Harry's colour… yes, he was there. Weak. Fearful. But alive.
Hermione moved forwards, desperate to be brave. Harry deserved no less.
She extended her wand-arm.
'Use colour-magic,' Draco said, 'works easier here… Get Harry and I'll – I'll give us cover.' He was trying to be brave, too, she thought.
Hermione focused on the pod containing Harry… She summoned her purple thinking how wonderful it would be if she severed the binding that kept the pod connected to the web.
Diffindo… but stronger, brighter, cleaner…
But her magic merely nudged Harry's pod. When it swayed, she could sense Draco tensing behind her.
She recalled Gunter explaining how he adapted his usual magical technique to the colour-magic 'network' – and then used Ventus – the lightest gust, to steady the ball's movement… But her colour-magic felt slow, unresponsive.
'Cast a Lumos, Draco. I need more light.'
A warm glow rose up behind her.
She tried to disentangle Harry again and this time the pod disengaged with a sly, quick twist, falling to the floor with a resounding plop that echoed around the shadowy chamber…
Draco immediately summoned the cocoon towards them. It rotated across the vast, empty space; a spinning golden oblong.
Hermione kept her eye on the web… Had it juddered? One of the other cocoons quivered…
'How the fuck do we get him out?' Draco asked. He muttered a Cistem Aperio.
'You said colour-magic works best.'
'Except I haven't learned the art of subtlety yet, and I don't want to hurt him… How about Defodio?' He wiped sweat from his face. 'It's suddenly boiling … do you think they know we're in here and have decided to cook us?'
'That's a thought,' Hermione said, extending her wand-arm. 'Glacius!'
Within seconds, a frosty condensation had enveloped the cocoon and a faint flurry of steam arose from the tightly-packed golden strands; a thick skin of ice soon coated the pod and its golden hue transitioned from frosted white to a pale glacier-blue.
Hermione immediately infused heat into the cocoon and the tangled mess of fibres softened and fell away. Harry was now visible… a curled up black-suited figure, his glasses half-hanging off his nose, shivering and wet.
Hermione instantly pulled him from his threaded cage, falling to her knees to embrace him because he was still crunched into an uncomfortable fetal position.
His eyes were wide and staring and there was a sound from inside his chest, but he didn't speak.
A shrill whine suddenly ripped through the silence and a stampede of feet echoed through the Great Hall towards them.
Hermione maintained focus on Harry… 'Rennervate,' she whispered… then placed her hands at different points on his body, trying to shut out the noise and commotion surrounding her, and repeatedly cast Reparifor.
'Come on, Harry,' she begged. 'We need to move!'
His body convulsed and his leg kicked out. There was a look of searing panic and fear in his eyes that she vaguely remembered from somewhere long buried in their painful past. She tried to raise him off the ground but his legs collapsed, which was as well – because a green Aveda Kedavra was flung in his direction.
Draco instantly cast a Protego followed by a loud 'Fumos!' The room instantly filled with choking smoke.
There were shouts and cries – six or seven Alaydaa - and flashes of light spearing the thick, grey haze, narrowly missing Draco, who danced backwards, muttering a charm with fixed concentration.
He fired back with a thunderous Depulso… There was a heavy thump as a couple of attackers hit the deck.
'Might as well bring the whole fucking thing down!' Draco bellowed, swivelling to fire at the gleaming web. Bulbous grey shapes tumbled to the ground. Draco shifted into colour-magic, a concentrated frown on his face, and the loosened pods rolled rapidly, then accelerated - a thundering cascade - towards the approaching Alaydaa, crashing into them.
Hermione grabbed Draco's hand. Harry was lolling against her… 'Let's get out of here!'
They ran past the torn web, Harry's feet dragging along the ground between them, and Hermione briefly dared to look… Yes. There was a distinct shape scuttling across the ceiling, limbs snatching at the tall, dark column… Coal-black eyes staring after them as they ran…
They ran towards a blizzard of noise and fumes – a room packed with huge, clunking machinery and pipework and hissing turbines belching steam. They swerved as a couple of stunners glanced off a series of vast metal vats full of bubbling, hot liquid … Then entered a brightly-lit medical ward, lined with beds.
Draco spun around and brusquely cast Duro – erecting a hard barrier between themselves and the Alaydaa.
'Child…' Harry muttered, nodding at a huge darkened pane of glass to their left.
Draco levelled an ear-splitting Finestra at the window, revealing a gleaming white room. A young boy, a toddler, was sat upright in a chair, eyes wide and terrified. Draco swiftly severed the cords binding him and hoisted him over his shoulder.
A door behind him blew off its hinges and a thickset, runtish man with pink eyes, flanked by two Alaydaa, swung into the room.
It took Hermione a brief moment to recognise him: JOSEP…
She instantly cast an Immobulus and the three men were frozen to the spot.
'Come on!' she shrieked, lurching down a long corridor towards a set of double-doors - holding Harry upright.
But we're under the lake! she thought. There was no way out…
Josep and the Alaydaa jumped through the broken window in hot pursuit. Hermione fired a Lacarnum Inflamarae, filling the entire width of the corridor with flame.
'Stairs…' Harry said, gesturing at the blank wall opposite.
"There's nothing there, Harry,' Draco remonstrated. They could hear the pounding of feet, fast approaching. They'd soon be in range...
'Dissendium…' Harry whispered, his head dropping with the effort. The stone wall creaked back, revealing a thin passageway and a staircase.
'Take them both!' Hermione implored, aware they'd soon be swamped by attackers.
'Impedimenta!' she cried out, as an Alaydaa broke free from the chasing pack with a sudden quickfire run. He fell forwards, smacking his face into the concrete floor.
She hit a second Alaydaa with a jelly-brain jinx, which had him floundering.
Josep, however, stolidly advanced, unfazed and sporting a broad grin. It was a clown's grin, she realised. One of those huge fleshy-lipped smiles drawn clumsily by a small child that literally cut across from ear to ear.
Kill him, she thought… But she felt the moment she twitched her wand in his direction, her life would be extinguished. He was immensely powerful. The air crackled with his magical energy… but there was more than that.
There was something, someone else… Something that made her tremble and her stomach felt like it had turned to water… She cast a desperate glance at the staircase; so close.
'We meet again,' Josep purred. 'Sadly, I'm not allowed to kill you.' His face twisted in sadistic regret. 'You've become an object of interest.' His tongue lisped when he spoke – slow, snake-like.
Hermione felt immobilised; caught in his stare.
'We just wanted our friend back,' she said in loud, ringing tones.
Her temples ached and her mind was fogged…
Josep pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. 'But you take what is OURS.'
NO… she couldn't stay here, caught in their trap - she'd never get out! …
She turned – and screamed.
Salvedra was hanging from the ceiling above her… his face gaunt and staring, his mouth open; mocking, deep, fathomless.
'Quis es?'… echoed through her head. Too loud. Too cold…
Josep was laughing behind her – and now Salvedra was extending a long, gnarled claw-like hand – one of four hands! Why did he have four? Hermione whimpered in fear… frozen, choking… caught in his gaze… Deep, dark, shiny eyes. Too many… Eyes that saw through her, through everything… eyes that penetrated the very fabric of reality.
'GET AWAY FROM ME!' she recoiled, focusing with every iota of her being… Colour-magic gushing like fast-flowing running water. Each and every cell of her body bulged with immanence.
She launched a shield, cutting Salvedra and Josep away - affording her a single moment to flee…
She leapt into the cavity Harry had forged in the wall leading to the hidden staircase. There was shoving behind her… An Alaydaa, whining in a high-pitched wail, was scrabbling to catch her… getting closer and closer…
But she was nearly there… Yes! She could see the blazing blue of sky beyond wide open doors. She scaled the last flight at full-pelt and cast a Glisseo behind her. The stairs became a slide and the Alaydaa emitted a blood-curling cry of fury, his voice dwindling as he was swallowed up into the darkness.
Draco was waiting, arm outstretched… he dragged her out of the wide-open metal portal. Somehow they'd looped back to the start.
They ran into the white-hot, blazing sun, Draco holding the child and supporting Harry.
Hermione quickly summoned the blissful moment when her magic had combined with Draco's – holding the memory tight – and cast a Patronus as she ran, dispatching it to Neville. 'Coming back. Salvedra's here!'
To her surprise, a silvery, sleek tiger spiralled high into the air before leaping away.
'Wow, Hermione…' Harry grinned. 'That's new!'
A stream of howling Alaydaa flowed from the open gate behind them… shots being fired… but a stupendous blast of magic erupted from the rockface to their right.
Gunter, standing on a ledge halfway up the rocky ridge, was pounding the Alaydaa with powerful colour-bombs. They scattered, some falling to the ground, sending chalk-white dust flying into the air.
'No wand…' Harry said, helplessly. He looked like he'd been force-fed poison; his face was gaunt and grey and his eyes were sunken.
A blood-curdling caterwauling erupted in the skies above them. The air was thick with a multitude of colours; fat lumpen birds, screeching and crying… The sound rang inside Hermione's head, clawing at the insides of her skull, crushing her mind… Fwoofers, she thought – their cry could drive a man mad…
She looked at Draco and his face was paralysed with pain… the child he was carrying was thrashing and kicking…
Hermione instantly grabbed the child, enabling Draco to unleash a blazing, incandescent blast of power high into the sky, targeting the Fwoofers, smashing them into each other. They fell to the ground where they mulched into a sickly, feathered stew…
Hermione's eyes were drawn by a movement to her right… Neville picked his way cautiously around the edge of the rocks. 'There'll be more!' he croaked. 'We've been under constant attack since you left.'
A crackle of lightning suddenly lashed through the skies followed by a cacophonous roar of thunder that seemed to rip the sky apart… A black shape shot high into the firmament, twisting and twirling … like a dust-devil in black.
A dazzling bolt of luminous colour-magic careened across the skies, plummeting to the ground, tearing through the sands - and a monstrous, towering shape, mouth wide and distended… gaping, yawning, trying to swallow them whole, surged towards them, threatening to engulf them in the dry, desert sands forever.
Draco and Gunter unleashed bolt after bolt of fierce colour-magic; one of Draco's blasts disintegrated the sand-monster, dissipating it in a spray of grit which showered down on them; choking, stinging. A second blast knocked the rocks that loomed high above the main entrance point to Akhr Makan onto a parting pack of Alaydaa, crushing them.
Josep strode out after them – bristling with colour.
'El es mio!' proclaimed a loud, booming voice. It rumbled through them…
Salvedra, high on a rock, was summoning a storm… clouds were darkening, coagulating into something monstrous, black, oppressive – blotting out the sun.
He was pale and spindly, but even from this distance, his rage and frustration was palpable… He faced Gunter across the sandy chasm between the rocks.
'Serás mio!' he screeched. The curse… Anna's curse. He was staking a claim.
Draco fired off a flurry of sparking waves of light… One snatched at Salvedra, but he intercepted it, shooting back - a gleaming spear, incendiary and scalding - with venomous rebuke. Draco dodged it and the sand creaked and crackled, becoming glass that fractured underfoot.
'We're so FUCKED,' Draco grunted.
'Get behind the rock!' Gunter shouted.
He descended from his lofty perch and they swiftly scooted to the other side of the rock where the sun was fiercest, the heat blistering.
'We can't win. Not today!' Gunter barked. 'We need to Apparate out. Sod this magic ban…'
'We've not exactly been policed, have we?' Draco snarled. 'Was a load of crap if you ask me!'
'You need a wand,' Hermione said to Harry, passing the fretful toddler to Neville.
She dashed to a nearby acacia tree and snapped off a robust-looking twig. She frantically scraped away the outer skin at one end with her wand.
'There isn't time for WHITTLING!' Neville shrilled.
She grabbed one of the fallen Fwoofer feathers that had drifted towards them and focused hard, feeding it through the wood, muttering enchantments over and over. A tuft of jade-green feathers still protruded from one end, but to all intents and purposes it was a makeshift wand for Harry and would do for now.
Harry flicked his wrist in a blur of green and a shovelful of sand flew upwards… He looked stunned and grateful.
'We Apparate in two groups – arrange a meeting place,' Gunter asserted, sweating profusely.
'The temples,' Draco said. 'Not the big one… the wife's. Fewer people.'
He wrapped his arm around Hermione and held onto Harry and the next moment they were standing a stone's throw from a gaggle of surprised-looking tourists. Nefertari's temple loomed large and magnificent beside them.
'Where the hell did they come from?' a loud voice hollered to his friends.
Gunter sprinted towards them from the lake, followed by Neville - soaked to the skin, crooked with pain.
'Got that all wrong,' Gunter said apologetically to Neville. 'We crashed into a boat.'
''s okay,' Neville scowled, clutching his side.
'Take the kid… I think he's called Kek,' Harry commanded. 'Get to safety. Leave us to deal with this…'
'But Harry,' Hermione remonstrated, 'you need rest.'
Harry vehemently shook his head. 'Too much to do.'
There were sudden shrieks and cries and a horde of panic-stricken people ran from the temple… Josep and a team of Alaydaa exploded into view.
Gunter stopped stock-still and momentarily closed his eyes… the air shimmered and shook.
'They can't see us now…I can hold it for thirty seconds, no more,' he said. 'Get to the border and portkey out of The Sudan… There's a small village not far from Wadi Hald. Be vigilant! This event will likely alert the army.'
Draco nodded. 'We'll call when we get across. Tell you where we are.'
'We're not invisible,' Harry said in droll tones.
Hermione raised her eyes to Josep. He was watching them, grinning from ear to ear. His eyes were dense-black…
'He can see us,' Hermione said to Gunter in panic.
'Black eyes… that's it! You were right, Hermione. They see THROUGH colour-magic,' Draco exclaimed. 'But he daren't attack us. Too many people.'
'Go… go now,' Gunter said. He turned to Neville and the child - and they were gone.
'Now what?' Hermione whined. 'We don't know anywhere near enough to get to… and none of us have been to the fucking Sudan!'
Josep stomped purposefully towards them. This was it!
One of the Alaydaa raised his arm. 'He's going to BLAST!' Hermione yelled.
Draco grabbed Hermione and Harry tight and Apparated…
They landed in a dusty field, frightening a herd of cows.
A smudgy brown cloud hovered hazily over a nearby town; the ocean shimmered white beyond.
'Where are we?' Hermione gasped.
'Hurghada…' Draco said. 'Godawful lads' diving trip some years back.'
'You okay, Harry?' Hermione asked. He looked like he might throw up.
He tottered and grabbed hold of her. 'Thank you. Thank you for coming. What happened… what they did… was unbearable…'
Hermione prickled with anxiety - thinking about the mysterious test-tubes.
'What – what sort of things, Harry?'
He held her tight, his nails digging deep into her skin. A sense of deep humiliation washed through her…
'Salvedra's pet project…' he rasped. 'He wants to design the perfect wizard.'
'Vitruvian Man,' Draco murmured, exchanging a worried look with Hermione.
'There were others, too…' Harry said, 'but I'm Epsilon+ and – and they know my history. That I survived the killing curse… This mattered a great deal to them. To him.'
'Him being Salvedra,' Draco said.
Harry looked repulsed at the mere mention of his name. 'But also Selwyn and Josep… Josep's closest to Salvedra I'd say.'
'Is Ephraim behind this, too?' Hermione asked.
Harry shook his head… 'It's Salvedra… Salvedra's plan.'
Draco chewed his lip nervously, thinking… 'This is going to sound wild, but - I think this is what we're dealing with. What's happened… Salvedra hates Muggles. They persecuted him. So he wants a way to destroy them. Enter Ephraim – narcissistic dope with delusions of grandeur, who Salvedra promises the earth to… Ephraim has wealth, power, status – and everything gets put at Salvedra's disposal, including his fuck-off massive pharmaceutical company and its ability to research Dark Flux. But what Salvedra really wants is to use Dark Flux to weaken, threaten the Muggle population, and for some kind of fucking wizarding Übermensch to rule over them… to keep the Muggles under control.'
'What the fuck's an Übermensch?' Harry asked.
'Supermen… Hypermen… What Nietzsche called Superior Beings. The type of stuff that got hijacked by the likes of Mussolini and Hitler.'
'And Voldemort,' Harry said plaintively.
'… Which means Salvedra particularly values pure-bloods,' Hermione said, thinking of the runic mantra in the Great Hall.
Harry vehemently shook his head. 'No, Hermione… I'd say he's more interested in half-bloods like me and Draco – Epsilon+ - or anyone who demonstrates outstanding magical abilities….' He gave her a meaningful look. 'Which explains why he's so interested in YOU.'
'But I'm a Muggle-born? A Gamma?'
'And a brilliant witch,' Draco said, looking queasy. 'You're half of what makes up Anteractivity, Hermione.'
Hermione blinked back tears. 'This is literally painful to think about.'
'But sadly we DO have to think about it.'
Harry heaved an exhausted sigh. 'This endless cycle of cruelty… It never fucking dies.' He grappled for Hermione's hands, forcing her to look at him. There were tears in his eyes. 'Feels like we're fucked forever.' He gently kissed her on the forehead, eyelids fluttering as he did so. 'All I know is I've never been so happy as when I saw your face today, Hermione… Strong and beautiful and pure.' He looked at Draco, who was shielding his eyes from the burning rays of the sun with his arm. 'And you too, Draco.'
'Well. I've never been described as strong, beautiful and pure,' Draco smiled. 'Definitely not pure.'
Harry's sudden laughter counted as one of the happiest sounds Hermione had ever heard. But their attention was immediately drawn by a series of loud cracks.
The herd of cows whinnied and scuffed the ground and charged towards them as Josep and the Alaydaa, in their eagerness to cross the field, pushed the cows out of their way.
'Fucking SHIT!' Draco cried, curling his arms around the other two. 'Right. Hold on!'
XXX
CHAPTER TRACKS:
"MOVIES" by WEYES BLOOD
"SALTWATER" by CHICANE
"TEMPLE OF LOVE" by SISTERS OF MERCY
"THE VULTURE" by PENDULUM
Disclaimer: I own nothing except my original characters.