A Fine Night of Debauchery

Harry woke and lay there, scrabbling for the last threads of a departing dream. It was almost within his grasp – a normal dream this time – when his thoughts tumbled in, filled his head, and sent the dream scattering. He reached for the glass of water by the bed and found it empty. His throat was parched.

He got up, being careful not to disturb Hermione beside him. A quick look at the clock told him that it was a little past two in the morning. The alarm would be going off in an hour anyway, and they had only drifted off to sleep at about eleven. Four hours sleep probably wasn't enough for what they were about to do, let alone three, but Harry had a horrible feeling he wouldn't have a stable sleep schedule again until after the war.

Harry made his way down the stairs, wincing slightly when the second last step creaked loudly. The kitchen tiles were cool on his bare feet, but he welcomed it in his warm state. The water that didn't fill the two extra glasses Harry pulled from the cupboard, plus the one from the bedside table, gurgled noisily down the drain. Harry was aware that the noise wasn't actually that loud, but it felt it. The entire house was silent when the tap shut off, as though it was holding its breath.

His bare feet touched on carpet as he wandered into the living room, one of the glasses in his hand as he sipped from it generously. An unfamiliar house in the dead of night had a very ethereal feel to it. And was only slightly unsettling. Years and years of history, people and family had wandered here and laughed and enjoyed it as their home, and here he was seeing it as still and silent as a tomb.

"Boo." Hermione whispered.

Harry jumped, stumbling slightly, water jumping from his glass as he did and sloshing down his front. "Aw man."

Hermione, for her part just snickered slightly at him. "Serves you right, sulking about my house in the middle of the night. Come on, if we're awake we might as well get changed. That way we can both convince Ron that he overslept."

"That's horrible," Harry said, his mouth twitching up. "I love it. I still owe him for threatening to make me ginger to fool his Auntie Muriel."

"I find it amazing how much that bothered you. Thank you." Hermione said, keeping her voice quiet as Harry led them to the kitchen, and handed Hermione her glass. She started the path back to her bedroom, deftly hopping over the noisy step with experience.

"It wasn't so much the threat as it was that he said it in front of his mum – and having to tell Mrs. Weasley that I did not want to be Weasley Ginger was not a fun experience. She looked so sad."

Harry closed the door behind him, once more in the confines of Hermione's bedroom. It was still dark outside, but moonlight wasn't shining into the room the same way it had when he and his friend had drifted off. He didn't remember falling asleep, now he thought of it.

"I can imagine." Hermione was saying, opening her wardrobe and tossing some dark jeans, and a black top onto the bed. "We're going in at night, aren't we?" Hermione said at his questioning look.

"Morning, technically – and we'll be under the invisibility cloak, but I love how you try to think of everything."

Hermione huffed slightly. "That invisibility cloak is only designed for one person. We used to sneak under it all the time when we were younger because we were smaller. If my ankle peeks out, or my top and I'm wearing this," She plucked a mint green t-shirt from the rails to show him before putting it back. "Then we're done for."

Harry held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, you're right. I'm sorry for doubting you, mighty one."

"As you should be, my puny subject." Hermione said in a strangely accurate Bellatrix voice, and then dropped a dramatic few octaves. "I find your lack of faith disturbing."

She grabbed a dark coat and sat down on her bed beside Harry as he pulled out his own clothes. They were dark too, thankfully, though that was more by luck than design. That was except for his animated Gryffindor socks.

"Oh, good God," Hermione murmured, getting up. She went to her drawers, pulled one open, and took out a pair of black socks. "These are my favourite," she said, snapping her arm to full length in a way which impressively unravelled them from a ball to two socks. "They are super comfortable. Three layers of cotton. Three. They'll keep your feet warm, but I advise taking them off before the sun gets too high in the sky. They're not exactly summer socks, and my feet get sweaty in them. Your mileage may vary though."

She put her hand right through one sock and pulled it back over the other until it was once more a ball the size of her fist. She handed it over.

"You don't have any thinner pairs? One's that maybe aren't your favourite? What if I put a hole in them?"

She scowled. "Then I'll kill you before Voldemort gets a chance too. Seriously, don't put a hole in them. I have others, but I left a lot at the Weasleys, and the only thinner black 'socks' I have right here and now are tights, if you'd prefer those."

"I think you're making these socks sound more important than they are," Harry said. "Thanks though." He put the socks in his back pocket as he gathered up his clothes to get changed in the bathroom, and, as Hermione slid the drawer closed, he caught a glimpse of the Time Turner. Hermione had told him, had told everyone, that the necklace had been handed in to Professor McGonagall – but Harry saw the delicate hourglass that remained attached to the golden chain.

The drawer closed. Hermione knew that Harry had seen it. She looked at him and didn't say anything.

Harry didn't say anything either.

When Hestia Jones woke up, she knew she was in trouble. The first sign was her surroundings. The dark gothic dining room wasn't particularly alien in the wizarding world, but the tattered once green banners bearing the dark mark in black were enough to hint that perhaps she shouldn't get too comfortable at the head of the long dining table she found herself at. The second was the throbbing pain. It was also the hardest to miss.

She gasped as she tried to move, her eyes widening dramatically as she did so. The feel of iron scraping across her bones would have made her recoil if it wasn't so painful. She was sitting bolt upright, her hands on the armrests, and one leg crossed over the other. That wasn't a wholly uncomfortable position as it was, but her stomach lurched when she saw the glint of the metal nails in her hands that kept them pinned to the armrest. A quick glance at the dirty mirror across from her and she saw the rest. They were thick and looked long and old, and had been hammered through Hestia's collarbones to keep her upright in the chair. A fifth nail entered Hestia's right leg just above the knee and drove down and through her left, pinning them together. There was a small pool of dried blood on the floor.

Breathing heavily, she tried to look around for any way of escape. Obviously they had taken her wand, and her cracked blue battle robe was draped over another chair out of reach, leaving her in just a set of manoeuvrable pants and a white shirt.

The door opened suddenly, making her jump in fright and then cry out in pain as the nails tore through her. Lord Voldemort and the two Death Eaters that entered after him ignored her completely.

Neither Death Eater was wearing their mask, so Hestia saw the twisted but beautiful face of Bellatrix Lestrange practically dancing after her master, while the muscular form of Walden Macnair hauled a shackled old man in front of him. Voldemort was dressed well. His dark robes were stylish over equally dark under clothes that looked both stylish and practical, green expensive embroidery tastefully decorating the robe. The other 'head of the table' seat, the seat directly opposite her, was pulled out and the man was forced into place. Bellatrix hopped onto the table, her legs bouncing slightly with excitement.

Voldemort laid the Annihilation Mechanism on the dining table in front of the man, the object making a loud 'thu-thunk' sound as it was set down. It was relatively small for such a destructive weapon, resembling an open stone pocket watch about the length of Voldemort's hand. There were two glass vials within the stone frame, both of them half-full of a calm blue transparent orb of runes and sigils.

The man's voice was strained when he spoke. His accent was French, though faded over the years. "And what do you expect me to do with this?"

"I want you to fix it," Voldemort said. His voice was oddly high. It was terrifying.

"So you can use it to kill thousands of innocent people? No."

"Nicholas, Nicholas," Voldemort tutted. "You know the only reason your fate hasn't been the same as your dear wife's is because you are of… use to me."

"I'm not doing it," The old man, Nicholas spat. "And I'm not giving you any of my elixir either. We burned it all when we heard the first apparation! And the stone?" He laughed. It sounded painful. "The stone is long, long gone!"

"I admit that has infuriated me," Voldemort said coldly. "But it was a loss I wrote off many years ago. Discovering you were still alive, however? Now that was a cause for celebration. You'd die before you'd help me, Nicholas. I know that full well. But you have the skills, the talent and the knowledge I need, and the only thing that's stopping you from doing what I ask…is you."

Macnair left the room at Voldemorts nod.

Nicholas let out a rattling old breath. Hestia had no idea how to estimate his age. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen anybody so wrinkly, not even Dumbledore. "And so your plan is…?"

There was a loud scream from somewhere else in the building. It was one full of pain and terror, and it echoed horribly. Nicholas flinched at it.

"It's quite simple. If you won't change your mind, then I'm going to change it for you."

The door opened again and Macnair entered. His previously empty hands were now full. In one hand was a blood-soaked scythe, or glaive of some sort. Hestia couldn't tell. She was more focussed on what the previous Ministry employee threw onto the desk.

An old woman's hand bounced slightly, resting just off to the side of Nicholas. The old man stared at it.

"Are we feeling more co-operative now, Nicholas?"

Travelling the length of England, and then a good chunk of Scotland was not a straightforward task with three people and only one handful of floo-powder. Even less so when they weren't entirely certain when the last time the Shrieking Shack's fireplace had been lit. As such, their fine night of debauchery started with a splutter. And then a flash of green light and eventually a bang as the un-maintained fireplace in the Shrieking Shack of Hogsmeade roared to life for the first time in over twenty years. Harry, Ron and Hermione were spat out unceremoniously. Harry thought he had managed not to fall over this time as he stumbled a few steps forward, but eventually his centre of gravity leaned just too far, and he skidded face first across the dusty floor. Hermione came out backwards but managed to grip a table to right herself. Ron, rather annoyingly, came to a smooth skidding stop, easily killing the momentum with a skilful slide and a smug smile.

"Shut up," Hermione grumbled.

"I didn't say anything!" Ron said, the grin not even slightly shifting.

"Still shut up."

Ron helped Harry to his feet as Hermione waved her wand in a small figure of eight. They were all dressed in dark clothes, Harry complete with Hermione's socks, and Ron with coloured clothes. Hermione had admitted she actually didn't know how to colour clothes, and asked Ron how he had known. The word 'Twins' had been enough to arouse an 'Ah' of understanding from both Harry and Hermione.

Hermione was dressed in dark navy-coloured jeans and a black top covered by a black windbreaker. Harry was wearing black jeans, a dark green jumper and a thigh length black winter coat. Ron was the only one of them in all black, with black jeans, and a black t-shirt. Harry had questioned the wisdom of being out in Scotland at half two in the morning in only a t-shirt, but Ron had handwaved his concerns away.

"Looks good," Hermione said, moving over to the front door and blasting off the wooden board that kept it shut. The wind made it creak open dramatically, but Hermione grabbed it and opened it wide so the three could leave.

When they were all outside, Hermione closed the door and mumbled something. Harry heard the wooden board slamming back against the door again, and when Hermione gave it a test shove, the door remained stubbornly shut.

"Excellent," Harry said brightly. "Next stop, Honeydukes."

Hogsmeade was darker than Harry expected. No lights were illuminating the street, so they made their way down the rain-slicked cobbles with only the moonlight as their aid. His eyes adjusted quickly though, and they found the sweet shop with very little effort. The effort came as they dismantled the small ward scheme.

"Actually, we're not dismantling it," Hermione had told them. "More like cutting a small hole in it that we can slip through. It's a magical town, so they should heal up by noon. If we were fully dismantling them, it would take far too long."

Hermione shooed them away, so Harry and Ron took turns quietly singing bars from Backstreets Back to annoy her.

"Honestly, I'm going to set off the Caterwauling Charm just to drown you two out." Hermione grouched. "That song's going to be stuck in my head for the next week. Lucky for you we're in. Now hurry off the street before anybody notices us."

Dutifully, Harry followed Hermione into the shop, Ron closing the door behind them.

"Where is this passageway, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, we've never actually seen it," Ron added. "At least not this end. You showed us that witch on the other end."

"Haven't you got a train to hijack?" Harry asked as he led them to the basement.

"Yeah, I'm not actually going in," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "But also, how often do you get to see a place like this empty enough to explore?"

"No stealing sweets." Hermione said suddenly, as the thought of leaving Ron alone in a sweet shop struck her.

"You wound me Hermione," Ron said, clutching his chest as he stepped off the last step into the basement.

"Ron, please promise me that you won't steal any sweets from the shop whilst we're gone."

"I promise that I'll try to promise that, but I can't promise that my promises aren't lies."

"Dear God. Do you even know what you're saying anymore?"

"Not all the time, no."

"Found it," Harry piped up, stopping their little back and forth. He kicked away a dusty rug, revealing a heavy looking wooden trapdoor built into the floor. "Why do you reckon there's a passage from Hogwarts to a sweet shop anyway?"

"My guess is it probably wasn't a sweetshop when the tunnel was built." Hermione put forward. "I don't know if I'm honest. When you first told us about it I looked for it in Hogwarts a History, but I couldn't find anything."

"Almost like it's a secret passage, eh Hermione?" Ron said elbowing her with a grin. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Have fun you two, I've got a train to rob. Yeehaw!"

With that, Ron made his way back up the stairs circling an imaginary lasso over his head. Harry gave him a bemused wave before he pulled up the trap door. There was a small sucking noise as cold air piled into the hole. Hermione slid in and Harry dropped in after her, using his wand to draw the rug back over the trapdoor as he slowly closed it.

Harry took the Marauders Map from his pocket and handed it to Hermione as a quick "Lumos," lit the tunnel. He reached into a pocket and pulled out the silvery, silky invisibility cloak. He wrapped it around both their shoulders and allowed it to trail along the oddly smooth floor behind them. This way if anybody followed them, they would only see a pair of floating heads and a bright light. Far less conspicuous, of course than being able to hide in the dark.

"There's scrape marks along the floor here," Hermione said. Harry was no expert, but he reckoned that the shallow grooves that stretched in a uniform pattern across the tunnel floor had been here for about as long as the castle had been standing. Something heavy had been repeatedly moved across this area over the years. "This was probably a secret supply tunnel in the case of sieges."

"Wheels existed in 1098, right?" Harry asked. "Surely they didn't need to drag it the whole way?"

"They probably didn't do either," Harry could hear the smile in Hermione's voice, and he just knew he'd missed something. "Magic, remember, Harry? They probably just put a low level summoning charm on it and had it follow them as they walked. Or they may have even just banished it to the end of the corridor, though I find that slightly less believable."

"You're one to talk about remembering magic," Harry said, sticking his tongue out. His voice turned shrill and high. "There's no wood!"

Hermione shoved him, though laughed good naturedly. "I was twelve Harry."

They continued walking for a while, their pace more that of a relaxed jog until they felt the ground start sloping upwards. Harry sighed.

"I hope this isn't all the hunt is going to be. Sneaking into some place via a secret passage, sneakily steal something or destroy something, then make a daring escape. This is the second time in less than twenty four hours."

"I doubt it will be," Hermione said. "This is basically the most important scavenging hunt we'll ever have to do. I have a feeling we'll be Indiana Jones-ing it a lot."

They continued in silence for a bit, before a thought came to Harry, and he smirked. "Levitation Charms."

Hermione looked at him confused, before groaning after a second. "Okay, yes, I know-"

"Why would they bother summoning it when they can just levitate it?"

"Yeah, I get it Harry,"

"Magic, remember, Hermione? Why would they make it so complicated?"

"I know, okay? But that doesn't explain the marks on the floor, does it? Maybe whatever they were moving was too big to levitate."

"Or maybe Hermione Granger is embarrassed she overthought it," Harry teased, to which Hermione gave the mature response of sticking her tongue out.

They reached what appeared to be a wall, and Hermione checked the map. When she was sure they were safe, she threw the cloak over both of them, having to crouch to be fully concealed. Hermione let her wand go out, and Harry tapped his own against the statue three times, mumbling "Dissendium."

Silently, the wall lifted upwards. The two quickly rushed out and closed it before anybody noticed. Once more, they were in the stone corridors of Hogwarts.

Keeping as quiet as possible, Harry and Hermione remained crouched as they made their way through the castle. The corridor was dark and made of stone, lit by torches in brackets along the walls, though very dimly. Hermione had previously explained to him that they slowly ignited from midnight, reaching full flame by 7 in the morning. When Harry had asked why, she'd been stumped. That had been a while ago, when getting caught by teachers was the height of their worries. Being caught by Death Eaters had them slightly more on edge.

They continued hurrying, not bothering to check the map as they quickly adjusted to the familiar surroundings. A left, a right, the hardest movement had been making their way upstairs. In only forty minutes they'd practically made it to the other side of the castle. They reached an intersection and peeked out and saw Rudolphus Lestrange.

They dropped back and hunkered down. Three strides took him abreast of them, but he passed without so much as glancing down. Once Harry started thinking again he counted to ten then added another five before getting up. Hermione peeked out, but he was gone, moving along some other corridor. She crept in the opposite direction, putting as much distance between them as possible, gripping Harry's hand to pull him along with her.

"Almost there," Hermione whispered, but she needn't have bothered. Harry knew the way to Dumbledore's office better than anybody, and he sped up slightly, now leading her by the hand.

The gargoyle was sat against the far wall at the intersection of two corridors. A quick glance at the Marauders Map informed Harry and Hermione that they were alone for now. Rudolphus was moving down the north tower staircase, and both corridors were completely devoid of people besides themselves. A worrying note, however, was the sheer amount of Death Eaters in the castle. Or at least what they perceived to be.

"Holy shit," Harry breathed as they looked over the Map.

"Agreed," Hermione muttered. There were easily just as many dots in the castle as there would be if it was term time, but they found they didn't recognise even half of the names, and all the ones that they did recognise were either confirmed to be, or heavily suspected of being in the service of a particular Dark Lord. Thankfully, they were, for the most part, staying still. They appeared to be smattered throughout the dormitories and offices of the castle. Sleeping. "But we're good for now."

Hermione stood up straight. Harry followed suit, dropping her hand as he did so, the cloak draping over their backs like an invisible cape.

"Any idea what the password is?" Hermione asked, her eyes flicking down to the map every so often as Harry approached the statue.

"The last one before he died was 'Liquorice Allsorts'." Harry said, but before he could continue, the gargoyle leapt to the side, its wings unfurling and its claws wrapping around a small stone bar set into the floor. Light spilled from the doorway behind it, forcing Harry to squint as his shadow stretched behind him. The torches were fully lit on the staircase beyond it.

Hermione stared. "Well, I guess that sorts that. Come on Harry."

She smiled at him as she stepped up, and gently took his hand again. Harry couldn't help but return it. They stepped through the newly exposed archway, and the gargoyle made its way back into place, closing the rays of light off from the corridor, and leaving Harry and Hermione in the room with the spiral stairs.

They ascended the stairs. The wooden door to the office was ajar, and they both crouched, throwing the cloak over their head again, and stood still as they listened. Hearing nothing, they slowly made their way forward, pushing the door open. It creaked horribly, but thankfully nobody was in the room.

Rain sounded against the window. Warm firelight spilled from brackets on the wall, the soft crackling of flame filling their ears. While the office had always smelled of Dumbledore, a strange mix of lemon and green tea, it was now spiked with a slightly different scent. One slightly more forest like, and yet still familiar. Snape.

Hermione checked her watch. "It's almost twenty to four now. We should really get a move on before everybody starts waking up."

"Okay," Harry nodded, standing up. "But if it makes you feel any better, I've found the sword."

He pointed at the broadsword in the glass case above the head teachers desk, the thick blade becoming a pointed tip, as though an arrow pointing down at the throne behind the desk. The sword's blade appeared to be a dark steel, but Harry knew better. On top of that, this was goblin made, and more than likely some kind of metal he'd never heard of before. Though he did recognise the golden swirls that travelled the blade's length. The pommel was a similar colour, but covered with black straps and red jewels, similar gold accents swirling around the whole thing. The whole sword was easily as long as Hermione was tall, and the blade was about as wide as his bicep. It was thoroughly impressive.

"I thought it was shinier." Hermione said.

"It was," Harry admitted. "Dumbledore said that the Basilisk venom it absorbed changed the colour."

"How?" Hermione asked, walking up to the case. She tapped the bottom corner and a small rune glowed purple briefly before fading away again, and the case clicked open.

"That Basilisk venom is nasty stuff. Dumbledore said it apparently burned the metal, it was that potent." Harry moved beside her and reached up, almost having to stand on his tiptoes to reach the handle and pull it down. The small silver brackets keeping it upright made a slight clink noise as they broke.

Harry hefted it in two hands, smiling when he saw the now famous Gryffindor house crest etched into the biggest ruby at the bottom of the hilt. "I have to admit it's a hell of a lot bigger than when I last held it."

"Now that," came a booming voice. "Would be to do with the magic that the sword responds to."

Harry swung around, the sword pointed, and Hermione exclaimed as she jumped out of the way. Harry mouthed a 'sorry' as he looked at the curtain covered portrait in the back of the office. He stepped forward, placing the sword on the desk and moving to the side of the room where, among all the other headmaster portraits came the voice. He parted the curtains.

"So nice to see you both," said Albus Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling even in the veneers of paint they had been captured in.