Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the brainchild of Ms Rowling, and I am merely leveraging on the magnificent universe she created to spin off a story of my own about two characters she'd never dream of putting together. Even though they're really good together. I mean. Yeah.
A/N: Here's another chapter with the tension mounting! This chapter is a lot more serious, no witty banter or whatsoever, but I promise you an even more exciting chapter after this. Maybe something that you guys'd really really like ;) Meanwhile, enjoy this one (:
Even though Draco had prepared himself for more illusions, given all the various eye-boggling magic that had been put in place so far, nothing really prepared him for what was now right in front of him.
He had entered a room that far exceeded the Malfoy Manor in luxury and grandeur; there were silvery columns lining the beautifully tiled floor, and there were dark statues of all kinds of creatures along the floor as well – snakes, manticores, chimaeras, basilisks – all the various Dark creatures that were often mentioned in folklore but never seen face-to-face. Draco hoped he would never have to face any, especially after he had duelled a dragon.
Not that the dragon was really out to kill him anyway.
The Dark Lord really has a taste for grand things, noted Draco. The basin that had held the Horcrux in the first cave had been carved beautifully, he remembered noticing. Not that he knew how the diary of Tom Riddle looked like; maybe it had gilded pages too. Then there was the ornate ring that the Dark Lord wore before that Wentervale mentioned.
Another random thought shot through his mind: if the Dark Lord had made it such that only a Death Eater could come, surely he would be alerted to the fact that Draco was here now.
A realisation suddenly hit Draco so hard that he stopped abruptly in his tracks. There was no turning back now.
He had made his decision. All along, this had been his decision, and there was no turning back at all. If he made the wrong move, the Dark Lord would be here instantly, and he would be dead.
"This is your mission as much as it was his..." Hermione Granger's voice floated back into his mind.
It was hers as well.
That chilling fact unsettled him incredibly. He clutched at his robes, breathed hard, and then moved on slowly.
His footsteps sounded like horse hooves clopping against the immaculately-polished tiles. Draco felt extremely edgy walking down the pathway. He half expected the stone creatures to suddenly come alive and pounce onto him, mauling him to death.
That thought certainly wasn't very pretty.
When he had reached the end of the row of columns, there was a long flight of steps down to a lower platform. On that platform was a half-column rising up from the middle.
And on top of that column was a beautiful cup.
The amount of jewels on it must have been aplenty, considering the glaring shine coming from it. Draco stared at it, blinking hard to make sure he was seeing the right thing.
Was this – the Horcrux?
The one that he had been searching for?
Or rather, the Horcrux that Wentervale, he – and Hermione Granger had been searching for?
The Dark Lord really has a penchant for such things! I wonder...
He put a tentative foot down the first step.
"My, my, my, look who we have here?"
Draco whipped around, but saw no one behind him. Turning back to the front, the familiar figure of a greasy-haired man was now standing in front of the shining cup. Rather disconcertingly, he had a cheerful smile on his face as he raised his hands up in a mock welcome.
"Augustus Rookwood!" spat Draco, his eyes narrowing at the man.
"Ah Draco, welcome welcome. I have been expecting you," said Rookwood, and he spread his arms wide. "Or rather..." His smile deepened. "The Dark Lord has been expecting you."
A chill ran down Draco's spine. But at the same time, he registered that Rookwood was the third Death-Eater that the Dark Lord had revealed secrets to. That just left one more person he didn't know. Could it be Antonin Dolohov? Or the Lestranges? Or Yaxley?
"You are skilled at Occlumency, aren't you, Draco?" said Rookwood, as he began to circle the column, his eyes now fixed on the golden cup above. "The Dark Lord told me to keep an eye on his Horcrux, lest somebody came to meddle with it..."
Draco remained silent. So the Dark Lord had suspected him right from the start. Why then, was he allowed to understand so much about the Horcruxes? Why was he allowed to meet Wentervale and find out the truth? Or did the Dark Lord plan this such that he would die knowing everything but not being able to do anything? His blood ran cold.
"Wentervale led you here, didn't he?" croaked Rookwood, laughing mirthlessly thereafter. "Oh what a silly boy, how could you ever have listened to a dying man?"
"I listened to my father!" Draco burst out in rage, glaring furiously at Rookwood, who merely laughed again. If not for the content of their conversation, Augustus Rookwood looked like he was having a hearty laugh over a joke. Well, maybe he did think that was a joke. Treating Lucius Malfoy like a joke made Draco even more outraged. He privately wondered whether the Dark Lord had murdered his father in front of the other Death Eaters to serve as an example.
He cringed at that thought. It was too revolting and painful to think about such a scenario.
"I heard it was Albus Dumbledore who managed to lead you to the first step though, how exciting," mused Rookwood. "If I didn't hear wrongly on the day you were initiated, the Dark Lord asked you to murder him as your first mission?"
How did he know about Dumbledore? Draco eyed Rookwood coldly.
"Ah... what a little traitor you are, aren't you?" Rookwood continued, his eyes glinting. "Aren't you afraid of death? Or rather, the torture that the Dark Lord is so famed for? Are you so noble to sacrifice your life to him without actually completing any task for him? Oh you wretched little fool..."
There was a hint of anger in Rookwood's voice, and Draco was inwardly surprised. At the same time, he noted that Rookwood was getting a bit agitated and rambly. The word 'sacrifice' made him think of Wentervale's words, and he wondered if Rookwood had been following them all this while. That would explain how he knew about Dumbledore. Maybe he was sent here to keep an eye on Wentervale as well. The Dark Lord would know if somebody was on the hunt for his Horcruxes.
But in that case, why was Wentervale allowed to construct a Teleporting Veil? Did the Dark Lord think that because he was going to die, he was not a threat anymore? Was it really that? Draco was beginning to find things a little more fishy than he thought.
Rookwood stopped circling the cup, and then he gazed back at Draco, with a curled lip in place.
"Such a watertight mind you have there." He cocked his head a little to the side. "Maybe if I tell you about the night your father was so brutally murdered in front of our very eyes by the Dark Lord, the details, perhaps..."
Draco was having a hard time controlling his temper. He suddenly really wished Hermione Granger was there to put her hand on his arm and calm him down and talk to Rookwood for him, for he was quite sure he was not in the right temperament to negotiate with the Death Eater. Especially when he was bringing up his father. He knew Rookwood was doing this on purpose, but it was tiring trying to practise Occlumency and suppress his rage at the same time.
Then he realised to his horror, that the pouch which contained the basilisk fang, was with Hermione and not with him. A wave of disappointment overcame him, and he felt his shoulders sag.
"Still not responding, are you, Malfoy Junior? Surely you want to take revenge on the Dark Lord, surely? That is why you are here?"
Something in Rookwood's tone really bothered Draco.
"I think – " paused Draco, eyeing Rookwood with a glint in his eye. "It is actually why you are here, is that not so?"
Rookwood merely laughed. "What are you talking about, my boy? Are you saying that I want to take revenge on the Dark Lord?"
"Yes."
Rookwood tilted his head to the other side. "Fascinating child. What makes you think so?"
"The fact that you are still questioning me instead of just hauling me straight to the Dark Lord or setting the Cruciatus on me," said Draco, shortly. "You want something out of me."
Augustus Rookwood wasn't one of the most experienced Death-Eaters for nothing. He gave away nothing at all, but merely laughed again, the eerily affable laughter. Then he waved his hand around the cup that was placed aloft on the pedestal, and muttered something.
To Draco's immense horror, something wispy began to spiral out of the cup. At first, he thought that the cup was smoking, but lo and behold, the wisps of 'smoke' were starting to merge together to form a rather translucent looking entity. Slowly, as the wisps headed towards the floor, the translucency began to solidify, and faint monochrome colours began to seep into the figure. Draco watched in a mix of fascination and shock as he began to recognise the features of this young man that was forming before him. The memory of a fat but relatively young Slughorn facing off with the greasy-haired and pale student was flitting through his mind, and he saw the latter right in front of him now, albeit slightly older, with a wearier and bonier look.
"Tom Riddle..." whispered Draco, and the figure solidified enough to give a low chuckle. A low, sinister chuckle.
"Who is this, Augustus?" asked the ghostly figure of Tom, with a hint of arrogance. The sly grin on his face reminded Draco of himself, rather chillingly, and nothing of the cold, hard, snake-like image he recognised to be the Dark Lord.
"This is the son of Lucius," Augustus Rookwood replied, still disconcertingly cheerful. "Draco Malfoy."
Tom raised his eyebrows at Draco. "Oh? Why is it that you have managed to make your way here to look for me?"
Curiosity was battling with fear and anger within Draco. "How – how did you find this place to put the Horcrux?" He chided himself inwardly for sounding so pathetic. "All the way in Ukraine?"
Tom spread out his arms. "Do I have to report to you, Draco? Who are you?" A sneer was entering his voice. "Who are you to me?" He began to walk up the steps as if he were human. Draco made no move to back off, merely glaring at the soul fragment of Tom Riddle. "And why are you here?"
"Why don't you ask beloved Augustus Rookwood that?" Draco replied, suddenly feeling rather bold.
Rookwood stared at him in surprise, and Tom Riddle cocked an eyebrow. "Whatever for?"
"Ask him why he is here."
"He is my Secret-Keeper for this place." Tom sounded rather annoyed at being asked a foolish question. "He will come here from time to time to make sure it is safe. From people like you."
Then he swivelled round to meet Rookwood's eyes. "Why is the boy here, Augustus?"
"He wants to destroy you," said Rookwood promptly, smirking at Draco when he said.
In a split second, Tom Riddle's piercing gaze was back on Draco, a very firm sneer etched onto his pale and haggard face.
"Destroy me?" Tom barked out a harsh laughter. "You want to destroy me?"
"I am a Death Eater!" snapped Draco. But at that moment, he knew.
It was over. All over.
"Oh, you are? But one never knows what will happen, will he?" Tom mused, looking thoughtful. "You see, I am pretty sure I can tell when somebody is loyal to me, and when he isn't."
Draco's eyes flashed as Wentervale came into his mind; he tried to shut it out when the image came through. He turned to glare at Rookwood, who merely chuckled.
"Just like your father."
Rage consumed Draco as he narrowed his eyes into slits at the apparition before him, gritting his teeth till he could feel the enamel grating off. Tom Riddle seemed to look smug knowing that he had hit a raw nerve in Draco.
"Aunt Bellatrix hasn't really taught you Occlumency well, has she?" Rookwood's voice had adopted a singsong manner. "All the rage is oozing out into your face already, Draco, even a fool could tell how angry you are!"
That clearly didn't help Draco calm down at all. He lowered his head, allowing the platinum blond fringe to flop over his eyes. Looking at Rookwood only served to intensify his fury, let alone looking at his father's murderer in the eye, even if he was just a soul fragment. The mention of an Occlumency mentor made him wince inwardly; what would happen to Snape if Draco was caught? Surely they would find out that Snape...
"So, how would you like your death to be, Draco?" asked Tom, an amused look spreading over his pale face. "I think immediately subjecting you to Avada Kedavra might be a little bit too nice for you. Shall I Cruciate you first, before embarking on a series of hexes and jinxes that might warm your body up a little?"
-.-.-.-.-.-
"So," said Harry, slowly. "Am I right to say that there are now two Horcruxes destroyed, and there remains five, out of which you know the location of only one?"
"Yes, that would be quite succinctly put, Harry," replied Dumbledore, thoughtfully fingering his beard. "But as of now, I have decided to destroy the one that I know the location of."
"Didn't you say you sent Hermione and that ferret there?" demanded Ron, who still couldn't get over the fact that Hermione was stuck with the Slytherin.
"That particular Horcrux is guarded by very dangerous magic, magic that I do not believe that either Draco or Hermione has the ability to deal with it. My purpose of sending them beyond the one that we have found, is to find out the location of the others from Wentervale – at least, I feel rather certain that he is likely to know more than one secret. This letter Hermione left behind proves even more so, for I believe it was a clue Lucius Malfoy left to his son, and there seems to be this 'labyrinth of secrets' which we have yet to decipher."
"What magic is it?" asked Lupin, the worried expression still etched into his face. He suddenly looked rather old and haggard, thought Harry, as he stared at his former professor. Tonks walked up to him and placed a tentative hand on his back, as if to steady him.
"The Inferi," said Dumbledore, simply.
There was probably no lack of gasps in the office for today. Arthur Weasley looked positively stricken, and Molly had her hand clapped to her mouth. Ron, Ginny, Corrinne and Neville had turned white, but Harry looked rather blank. When Lupin saw his expression, he explained the Inferi to Harry, causing the bespectacled boy to cringe. "O-okay..."
Dumbledore looked at the Order grimly. "I called upon all of you to aid me in protecting the duo I've sent out. I am rather sure that both Draco and Hermione have met with Wentervale, for where I've sent them – there was a chasm with a sleeping dragon in it."
"Dragon?" Neville let out a gasp, but Dumbledore put out a hand to stop him.
"The chasm is the only possible exit from the place the Horcrux is kept, especially when one alerts the Inferi," continued Dumbledore. "I have seen Wentervale attempting to destroy the Horcrux, but he always fell short of dealing with the Inferi because of his illness. It is to my understanding that the Horcrux is being submerged in a basin of cursed water, and attempts to siphon it do not work. One must drink it, and Wentervale's body will not be able to withstand the curse. When he escaped from the Inferi, I was puzzled as to where he would go, and tailed him after the Inferi had crept back into the waters."
"When I saw the sleeping dragon there, I felt as though he could not have been devoured by this creature. Severus, however, has alerted me to the fact that Wentervale has a secret half-sister whose identity has been kept steady for ages. This is a secret that all of you must keep safe, for any leakage would mean instant death for the half-sister as well. And I can only tell you so much to protect Severus as well."
There was a snort, presumably coming from the Weasleys, but Dumbledore smiled gently and continued.
"I have managed to coax it out of the sister, that Wentervale is in fact, a dragon Animagus."
"That means he is an Advanced one!" Tonks' eyes widened, her hair prickling and swirling in various shades between brown and pink.
"Exactly. Hence, I believe that since Wentervale is looking for Draco, he is unlikely to harm him. The dragon guise is likely to deter He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named from attempting to kill him. Therefore, my conclusion is that it is likely that both Draco and Hermione have met Wentervale before his death."
"What I want us to do is to follow the trail. Once they have found out enough, it is enough, the rest of the work is not for them both alone. There is not much time left and we must hurry. Something tells me danger is approaching very soon."
"It has already approached!" grumbled Ron, but Lupin had stepped forward, a very serious and dark expression on his face.
"We are ready, Albus. But we cannot let the children go."
"It's Hermione we're talking about!" cried Harry, hotly. "I'm not going to let you all go save her without at least me and Ron – and Ginny coming along!"
"Hey! What about us?" Corrinne added in protest, and Neville winced while Luna merely looked blank.
Lupin looked at all of them sternly. Harry remained defiant.
Dumbledore cocked his head with a slightly amused look. "I don't suppose we can do much, Remus. But I will keep them close." Turning to Harry, he adopted a more serious look. "All of you must obey my instructions, along with the Order's."
A faraway look then came onto his face. "There is no room for heroes."
Harry steeled his resolve and nodded at Dumbledore. "We will listen to you, sir."
"Arthur, Molly, Bill – I would like you to stay in the Burrow and await instructions. Should we meet danger, you must seek help immediately."
Molly opened her mouth to say something, but Arthur immediately assented, causing her to shut it rather angrily. Then, Bill led his parents towards the fireplace, and Arthur threw a handful of Floo Powder, creating a cloud of roaring green flames.
"Charlie, you must remain with the dragon colonies should we need assistance from those creatures."
With a crack, Charlie had Disapparated from Dumbledore's office.
"The rest of you, apart from Lupin, Tonks and Mad-Eye, I would like you to remain in your various positions. We may be crossing certain borders for all we know, and it is highly critical to have eyes to watch us. Minerva, I will have to beseech you to stand in for me during this period. Please inform the relevant staff members of their students' absence."
One by one, the rest of the group Disapparated. Minerva McGonagall tutted a little, before she turned and walked out of the door.
Finally, there was only Dumbledore, Lupin, Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna, Neville, and Corrinne standing around in the office.
Dumbledore motioned for Fawkes to land on his arm. "Everybody link arms. Make sure it's a tight link."
Harry watched as the brilliant plume of the phoenix swept through the air and landed gracefully on Dumbledore's left arm. As he linked arms with Ron and Ginny, an image of Hermione desperately navigating through darkness and emptiness, crying for help, waded through his mind. He winced, and lowered his head.
Please, please let her be alright!
-.-.-.-.-.-
Hermione stopped tracing the walls, her entire body deflated as she sank down near the cauldron. She stared at the orange glow helplessly, and then the small carvings at the bottom of the cauldron.
"Draco... where are you..." she whispered faintly.
Her entire body wracked with anxiety, she clambered back onto her feet again, and resumed scanning the room. Then she peered back into the cauldron.
"I don't understand why it's a cauldron if all one needs is to utter the incantations at the bottom to get in," mused Hermione, to herself. "Is it really a ruse to trick people into thinking a potion is needed? Really?"
She circled the cauldron once, then twice.
Then a thought struck her.
She took out the basilisk fang from the pouch Wentervale had given her. The edge of it was stained with a bit of blood, and she shuddered a little.
"Horcruxes can only be destroyed by the most powerful of magic..." She fingered the fang. "Most powerful of magic..."
She couldn't possibly throw the fang in; it was the only one they had to destroy the remaining Horcruxes – or at least, she hadn't the faintest idea what else would be so potent as to do the job.
They. The thought of Draco Malfoy made her panic again. She had to breathe hard to steady herself. Hermione Granger! She thought sternly.You need to be calm and rational and at the same time, think out of the box!
She wrinkled up her nose when that thought came to mind. That really is helpful.
With her hand placed just above the cauldron, her instinctive reaction was to dip the fang into the swirling and bubbling orange liquid. Then she began to move her hand in large circles, stirring the liquid, as if the fang were a large spoon.
At first, the bubbles were popping occasionally. The more Hermione stirred, the more bubbles appeared, and eventually, all the bubbles seemed to merge into some kind of white froth covering the orange liquid. As the froth accumulated, the orange glow dimmed, and in its place, a pure, white, light shone through the froth. Hermione stared wonderingly at the contents of the cauldron as she stirred methodically.
All of a sudden, the bubbling started to become wilder. The froth began to accumulate at such a rate that it was about to overflow any minute. Startled, Hermione jerked back, fang in hand, but whatever 'damage' it seemed she had done – was done. The edges of the cauldron were soon covered by a sheet of froth, and then everything started to boil over. Hermione kept backing off, and off, and off, as the frothy bubbles started to pool onto the floor in large amounts. Those in the cauldron just kept growing bigger and bigger, and it looked like there was going to be a monstrous tidal wave of froth.
Hermione brandished her wand, her hand shaking. But with every charm and spell she cast to make the froth disappear or to return back into the cauldron, it seemed to only make the froth accumulate even more and bubble more furiously. The speed at which the floor was becoming flooded with white frothy liquid was so fast that Hermione found herself soon back up against the wall at the end of the room, staring in horror at the now-white cauldron at the far end.
I'm a Gryffindor! She had to recite that phrase over and over again in her head.
It was when she was stock still, pressed against the wall, with the froth started to pool around her legs, that she suddenly realised that her surroundings were starting to change.
She tried walking forwards a little, wading in the bubbles, but the surroundings were still literally peeling away – the walls of the room were giving way to a dark place; the bright white light that was illuminating the room from the cauldron before was now moving further and further away, pushing her into the darkness. She felt herself being swallowed up by the black surroundings, as the brightness slowly faded towards the front. Then instantly, the last of the room she had been in snapped right into the centre of her vision, shooting into a small round ball, and then it was no more.
Hermione looked around her, but could barely see anything. Instinctively, she held her empty hand out to touch. She was in a narrow passageway, and there seemed to be steps, as her foot nudged against one of them. She could barely see anything, so she flicked her wand, and light shone from its tip to reveal a very narrow stairway. Tentatively, she began to ascend the steps. Then she stopped. Then she looked behind her.
Up or down? She wondered, staring back and forth. In the end, intuition told her to try going upwards, since she was already in the depths of a cave. Bravely, she continued her ascent of the steps. At the same time, she slipped the basilisk fang back into the pouch at her side.
Instantly, she was remembered of Wentervale's passing, and then Draco's disappearance. She felt something tug at her chest, and she stopped to take a deep breath before continuing. Things were not looking very bright, even though she seemed to have found a way out of that room with no exit.
She came to a platform, where there was a door. The stairway continued to lead upwards, but it seemed to get more damp and grimy. That proved to be rather odd, considering that it was often the deeper one went into a cave that there were such conditions. Hesitating, she looked at the door and pointed her wand at it. A door often meant hope, so she could only pray that it really would give her some hope. It was already strange enough that there should be a stone room, a cauldron, and a stairway in the midst of a natural cave in West Ukraine, let alone now a door that was likely to lead to another passageway.
"Alohomora!" she whispered, and the door swung open with nary a creak.
Hermione decided to give it a shot, and she made it through the entrance. Suddenly, with a loud bang, the door slammed shut behind her. She spun around, terrified, but there was a click, and it seemed to indicate that she was locked within. She flicked her wand, but the door remained shut.
Okay, so was that a good idea? She didn't know. The only way now was to venture forward.
To her surprise, the passageway was actually relatively well-lit by fire sticks burning on the walls, so now she could extinguish the light at the tip of her wand. But she still kept it tight in her grip as she slowly walked on. The whole place looked like a medieval dungeon, and it felt rather sinister. For the umpteenth time, Hermione really wished she could use some of Ron's deadpan humour and Harry's reckless courage. She felt like a balloon that was deflating with each step she took, and could be so easily burst with a little prick.
And maybe, some of Draco's witty sarcasm.
"What joy," she muttered to herself.
The passageway seemed never-ending, and she was beginning to feel very cold. In fact, she touched her own arm and felt as if it was covered in tiny icicles. She breathed out a puff of breath and saw it materialise into a cloud. Shivering, she moved on, but felt her legs become as heavy as iron blocks. Somehow, every movement felt agonising now, and she could also feel all happiness seep out of her.
The feeling was reminiscent of something. It was like deja vu. She couldn't really put her finger to it though. Not that she could even curl any of her fingers now.
But it was only when she managed to plow on a few more steps, that she realised what had happened. Or rather, who was here. She stopped abruptly, staring in horror at what was before her.
Floating towards her, was the familiar shadow that seemed to draw her towards it, and yet repel her with all the misery and despair and darkness it held.
"Dementor..." she whispered, not believing her eyes. A Dementor, in the depths of this Optimistic-whatever-place. Was fate playing tricks on her? If anything, a Dementor was definitely far from being an optimistic creature.
The shadowy robes of the Dementor ghosted around her as it circled her. She could feel all the sadness of the world pouring into her, and there was a certain lightheadedness that threatened to make her limbs give way.
In the recesses of her mind however, she heard Ron's hooting laughter, and Harry's amused ribbing about the two of them, followed by Ginny's derisive one when she tried to get one back at Ron... she saw Molly Weasley's beaming face as she brought out a huge Christmas turkey pie, followed by pudding, and all the Weasleys, Harry, and her rushing towards the table to see who could get the first penny in the pudding. There was Dumbledore winking at her when he gave Gryffindor House extra points when the Golden Trio had saved the day again. There was her O. result slip opening before her very eyes, and she noted all the 'Outstandings' (save for that one 'Exceeds Expectations'; she was happy for Harry for getting 'O' in D.A.D.A. though...).
Then there was Draco Malfoy, with his silver-blond hair gleaming in the moonlight when he sank into the armchair at the library. He had turned to face her, and there was the familiar twitch of his mouth that made him seem almost pleasant.
That was enough for her to suddenly break out of her trance and whip out her wand at the black shadow.
"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"
A huge cloud erupted from her wand, destabilising her a little as an otter flew up and circled the Dementor. With a flick of its lower body and tail, the Dementor was sent flying backwards. The otter gave chase, and Hermione found herself running forwards again, in the direction of her Patronus. She ran, and ran, and ran, with the white light of her Patronus the only hope she could hold onto.
Come on, come on, go away!
It was then that she came to a dead end, with her Patronus hovering by the side. It was fading already. The Dementor was gone. Glaring helplessly at the wall before her, she aimed her wand at it. But several explosive blasts later, all her effort still came to naught.
Labyrinth of secrets indeed! There was no exit now!
But that didn't make sense. Where did the Dementor go to if there was no exit?
She turned around again, her Patronus fading and light bursting out of her wand again to illuminate the passageway. There was nothing. Or at least, as far as she could see with the light.
Exhausted, frustrated, and frightened, Hermione Granger sank to the floor and buried her head in her knees. This was going to be one very, very long quest.