Early morning dawned as the trio made their way to a small side street, clad in all black and carrying nothing but the gear they needed for the mission. Hermione was busy tightening the straps on her hip when Ron stepped up beside her.
"Synchronize watches," he said. Hermione looked over at him to find a grin on his face.
"What?" he said, "They say it in all the movies."
"You don't even own a watch," Hermione said, as the corner of her mouth twitched a bit. She strode out the door and into the street, looking back and forth along the sidewalk before beckoning to Ron.
"As discussed, we're both going in," said Hermione as they crossed the street, "Neville's watching the surveillance cameras and will alert us if someone is coming."
"I'm pretty sure that's illegal," Ron whispered.
"Everything we're doing right now is illegal," Hermione replied. McGonagall's words from a few days before flashed in her mind; that if they got caught...not even W.I.Z.A.R.D. could help them. That, and they could be breaking into one of the most dangerous places in all of London, simply because of who it belonged to. Before them was a dark wooden door with ornate glass panes, matching the curved window seats on either side. They were covered by curtains so thick Herimone questioned the windows' necessity in the first place. From all she knew about the place, said curtains were never opened during the day or the evening. The slick, metallic signage above the windows read "BORGIN & BURKES" in silver lettering.
As they approached the door, she looked at her watch; It would be 0400 in three….two….
*click*.
As the hour hit, the black door swung inward to reveal Harry's bright eyes in her face, though he was wearing a pair of thicker than usual glasses with a greenish tint . He stepped back, nodding for them both to come inside. She moved past him and Ron came in behind her, looking around as he stepped over the threshold.
"This place is about as sleazy as what you'd expect from Malfoy's group," he said. Hermione had to admit he was right.
Despite being larger than it seemed from the outside, Borgin's had a claustrophobia-inducing feel, as if they were in a dungeon deep underground. Hermione was reminded of Agent Snape's office, though his rooms were more beakers and metal tables, while this place had a softness meant to make you feel like you should stay. Armchairs in the dining room faced a couple of windows, where one might fit a couple of dancers, and several hallways indicated private rooms in the back. The bar was fully stocked with alcohol Hermione didn't recognize - White Rat Whiskey, for one - and a single dim light bathed the room in a sickly glow.
"Where should we start?" Ron asked as he surveyed the room. He was careful not to touch anything he didn't have to, even with his gloves.
"Just stick to the main task, unless something special happens," Harry said, "We're here to find any sign of the Marauders. In and out."
"Right."
"I'm going to take a look in the back, "Hermione said, "Let's all make sure we're connected to Neville though. You there, Neville?"
"Perfect," Neville said, then paused. Hermione heard a long yawn through her earpiece, "except I've forgotten my coffee."
"That's not an excuse, Nev," Harry chimed in from across the room, "I know for a fact you've stayed up much later than this playing Exploding Snap on your phone."
"Anyway," Neville said, "We're all set. I'm tapped into all the cameras outside the facility. If anyone is coming, I'll let you know, though I can't imagine that happening."
"Why?" asked Hermione as she moved toward the rooms.
"These guys seem smug about their security measures. There was only one...and Harry disabled it."
"Maybe they think they're untouchable."
"Maybe," Neville said, "I wouldn't put it past them. While you're at it, see if you can find any signal jammers. I can't seem to get any information on the area below the club."
Hermione made a noise of affirmation, and heard Neville say something directed at Harry and Ron. Confident she wasn't needed out front, Hermione focused on the rooms lining a dark, narrow hallway. It was out of sight of the entrance and windows, so she felt comfortable switching on a small flashlight. She shined it over the walls, then up and down. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary until she shined it at the ceiling and came face to face with a large taxidermied snake.
"What in the world…" she said. The thing was arranged to look like it was slithering along the ceiling, and positioned with its fangs bared downward toward her. She shivered, but was undeterred from creeping through all the private rooms.
Each room was almost identical: A booth of velvety material, a table, and a coat hanger. One had a stack of cigarette-burned cards still sitting in the middle of the table, but other than that the rooms were indistinguishable at first glance. Hermione spent a bit of time searching underneath the tables and into the corners of the room with her flashlight, moving over the portraits on the wall, and taking note of anything that seemed amiss.
There were portraits and paintings that you might expect from this type of establishment. Though the mixture of modern and old-fashioned was off putting to the young agent, she found much of the room was par for the course. Nothing seemed truly out of the ordinary until she spotted a photograph of a small boy in a dusty suit. The beam of her flashlight passed over it for a moment before snapping back. Something about this photograph seemed familiar.
"Alright, Hermione?" came Harry's voice over the headset.
"Yes, why?"
"Oh, I could hear you gasp, is all. I'm guessing that means you found something,"
"I think so."
"Brilliant, Agent."
"Don't call me that yet," she laughed softly, "I'm not sure I've figured anything out." She continued staring at the photo with vague recognition, trying to place it. Then it hit her. She strode out of the private room and into the next, sweeping her flashlight along the wall until it came to rest on another photo. It was the same photo...but not quite. The boy was still wearing old brown clothes and still holding a snake in his hand. One of his socks was still higher than the other, and the same thin eyes stared back at the camera. But the tall grass in the picture's foreground, which Hermione distinctly remembered was on the bottom right corner of the square frame, was no longer there. Instead, there was a cluster of grass poking awkwardly from the top left and covering a portion of the sky.
She raised her eyebrows and took a look in a third room, finding the same boy with the same clothes and the same snake, only the grass was in the top right. She leaned in close, squinting at the image until she found a faint depression between the frame and the picture. In this and one other room, the grass seemed connected to the picture frame while the rest of the boy's photo was attached to the wall itself.
"That's certainly interesting…" she said.
A quiet knock on the wood behind her made Hermione stand up. Ron was in the doorway beckoning for her.
"Harry found something," he said, "Then you can tell us why you're staring at a picture of that kid's shoes."
"You could have called me over the comms," Hermione informed as she followed Ron out of the room and switched off her flashlight.
"I missed you," he said with a wink, "Anyway, I turned off that light in the front. Put on your goggles." Hermione nodded and pulled her low-light goggles from the bag on her thigh. Her eyes were semi-adjusted to the lack of light, but Harry was standing behind the bar, holding a piece of fabric that she couldn't quite make out without them.
"Found this stuffed between some glasses," Harry said, as they stopped in front of him, "I think this belongs to Mr. Dobbs. I remember him wearing this mostly because, well, look." She adjusted her goggles, bringing the garment into sharper focus. The whole thing, which seemed to be a scarf, was a mismatched pattern of leopard print and tiger stripes.. This unique sense of fashion was exactly Mr. Dobbs' style.
"Malfoy wouldn't be caught dead in something like that, nor would he let most of his subordinates dress like that either," Ron said, "But someone else….maybe. We can't quite be sure. All Harry knows is he remembers this scarf and he remembers Dobbs wearing something similar. At the very least we should consider taking it with us."
"That's not Dobbs'. That's Kreacher's scarf," Hermione said. Harry and Ron looked at her.
"Are you sure?" Harry asked.
"Remember when Kreacher lectured me at the W.I.Z.A.R.D. Christmas celebration last year?" Harry and Ron looked at each other and grimaced. Clearly, they did remember...and very unfortunately so did she. She could see so clearly the older man telling her she didn't belong as an Agent while flinging his scarf haughtily over his shoulder. She remembered the bright blue drink splashing on her dress as Harry stopped Ron from going after him, Harry taking her home early...and the subsequent choice to move Mr. Kreacher to the training facility instead of any of the main agency hubs. No, she would never forget that scarf.
"So if it's Kreacher's, then we know what Mr. Dobbs wanted to tell us at Hogsmeade," Harry said, "That's not good."
Hermione was set to inform the two of her own discovery, but Neville's voice suddenly came through their earpieces.
"Hide," he said, his voice urgent, "I saw someone approaching the side street."
"Who?" Harry said, though he'd already shoved the garment back in place.
"Not sure, but I'd disappear just in case. You have three minutes tops."
The trio crept swiftly to the far dining area. They approached a table in a back corner and Harry threw a small device onto the table. It bounced twice, then lit up the second it came to rest on the polished wood. As the device sprang to life, it flickered green for a moment, a soft light scanning the wall right in front of them. It then faded to an image identical to the wall. The trio quickly moved behind the cover.
"Invisibility Cloak," Harry said as Hermione looked at him quizzically, "a one of a kind prototype. Dad gave it to me."
"I am not surprised," Hermione said, then quieted as the lock in the door clicked twice.
In came Mr. Kreacher, stooped gait, sunken face and all. The Invisibility Cloak allowed them to see through their side, so they could watch as he took a few labored steps into the room. He shuffled until he could close the door and turn on one of the ornate lamps near the front, an action which illuminated his greyish skin. Hermione could hear his labored wheezing from across the room.
Kreacher seemed to be looking for something, bending over with considerable effort to run his hands along the shelves in front of and behind the counter. The trio already knew what he was looking for, and were less than surprised to see him pull the ratty scarf from the shelf. He mumbled something to himself, and seemed to take a couple steps toward the door when a loud beeping noise caused him to jump.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron all nearly jumped out of their skin. Kreacher seemed none the wiser, however, and reached into his pocket to fish out a smartphone. It continued to bleep and vibrate in his hands.
"Confounded...thing…" he muttered, pressing several places on the phone screen before finally lifting it to his ear.
"Who's bothering me at this time in the morning?," he spit, then his eyes widened and he rushed, "Oh, right...sorry, Mister Malfoy…"
Hermione wished they had a pair of extendable ears. As Kreacher mumbled apologetically into the phone and shuffled off to the other end of the bar, she, Harry, and Ron strained to hear what he was saying.
"Yes, everything went according to plan...mostly. He was…on the way out of the complex. Caught, I said. Can you hear me?" Kreacher got louder as he grew more frustrated with the phone.
"Stupid piece of junk," Kreacher said, "Not you, Mister Malfoy. I am, of course, here to serve you. I am here to do what you need. But you should know something. We have a situation: Mr. Dobbs."
Hermione felt Harry stiffen next to her.
"He knows something. I don't know what, but he knows something, and he tried to tell Potter Jr. and his team. Yes, I'm sure." There was a long pause as the older man walked in their direction. Though there was little chance he would stand in the tight corner they currently occupied, they held their breath as he placed a hand on the chair right in front of the cloak. Kreacher then inhaled...and sneezed.
It didn't do much. There was but the slightest, faintest ripple on the projected image. Hermione only saw it out of the corner of her eye as Kreacher stopped and looked directly where they stood. His bloodshot eyes grew even thinner and he leaned forward for a moment. She saw Ron reach for his wand out the corner of her eye and felt Harry loosen his grip around her waist so they'd have room to move.
"Yes, Sir! Of course. I'm listening!" The cloak flickered a little more as Kreacher exclaimed and pulled away, turning back toward the door and shuffling off. The trio let out a collective breath as the man grabbed his scarf and made a beeline for the door.
"You might want to have someone look at the wiring above the dining area. A light flickered on its own, I think. But yes, Dobbs. I'll need to return to work so I'm not missed, but I'll take care of him next week...right, you'll never hear his name again. Hello?" Kreacher looked at the phone. Malfoy had apparently hung up without a goodbye. He gave a tired shrug, and without so much as a glance in their direction, shuffled out, the door slamming closed behind him.
They waited until Neville's voice came through their earpieces again, muffled but confirming that they were once again, alone.
"We have definitive proof Kreacher works for Parseltongue now," Hermione said as she stepped out of the cloak. She watched as Harry pressed the button atop the mechanism and the illusion disappeared.
"Aw I was rather enjoying that," Ron joked as Harry put the cloaking device away, "Reminds me of that one time our last few months at school...don't look at me like that Hermione. You said I was allowed to bring it up once a year." Hermione continued to glare at him as Harry took a tiny cylinder out of one of his pockets. The new device flickered as Harry aimed it at the countertop, and a beam of UV light covered the surface.
"Just want to confirm he was here," Harry said as the beam highlighted some smudged fingerprints. The device beeped once, indicating it had logged the print, "Got that, Neville?"
"Confirmed. And faster than expected, too! Send me anything else you find. And don't forget the floor, please!" Harry made a noise of understanding and beckoned Hermione and Ron to him..
"We've gotta protect Dobbs," Ron said first, "The man tried to help us. Maybe we could go get him and come back here another day. Though that would waste a lot of time…"
"No," Harry replied, "We shouldn't push our luck coming here twice, especially given we almost got caught this morning - not that Kreacher would've been a problem. Let's finish gathering whatever evidence we can and meet up with Neville at 1700." He looked at Hermione, who agreed, then squeezed his hand with a small smile.
"Right then," Ron said, clapping his hands, "While we're at it, the spot I'm standing on sounds a bit off." To demonstrate, he tapped the ground with his foot. A hollow sound reverberated from where his toe came in contact with the wood. He then shifted a few paces over and tapped again. The sound was muted.
Hermione had an idea.
"I bet this has something to do with the pictures I found," she said, then explained "There are slightly different ones in each private room. Two of them can be moved. " She motioned for Ron to stay where he was and led Harry to the back room.
"I believe the photograph itself is rather old, judging from the worn nature of the thing," she continued, "Though the wear and tear could have been the product of photo manipulation...they are copies after all. But that's not the interesting part, here-" She pointed out the differing portraits of the young boy. She shined a beam of light from her Wand to highlight that the background was separate from the frame itself, noting the positioning of the grass on each one.
"This kid looks familiar," Harry said, "but I can't quite putmy finger on it." He took a picture of the photograph, staring at it with his brow furrowed. There was something making the gears turn in Harry's mind, Hermione could tell. Now that she looked again and really paid attention to the boy, he looked familiar to her as well. Vague images from time spent looking through the Marauders' offices as children (before they were caught and shooed away) flashed through her mind.
"Ron, step off the hollow part of the floor," Harry said into his earpiece, "Hermione is going to see if these pictures do anything." They waited a moment, then Harry moved out of the way.
Hermione used a feather light touch to shift the frame. It gave a satisfying click as the grass slid into the correct spot, nestled against the bottom right corner of the picture. She looked over her shoulder and smirked at Harry.
"How did I ever persuade a brilliant agent such as yourself to be on my team?" he said, voice tinged with admiration.
"Impressing me repeatedly, " Hermione replied, "Also, being friends with me since we were kids."
"And sleeping with her within earshot of your best friend...repeatedly," Ron said in her ear, "Can we get a move on?"
Hermione bit back a retort as she moved to the next room and fixed the picture frame there as well...a few seconds later, Harry and Hermione heard the unmistakable sound of something shifting.
"Well done, as expected," Ron called as they returned to the main room. He stood with his arms crossed. On the floor beside him was a round hole. As Hermione got closer, she looked down and saw metallic rungs of a ladder extending into the dark, though she could just make out a solid floor several meters down.
"You were right about the floor, Nev," said Harry, "There's a door in the ground. What's down there?"
"I...don't know." Neville replied, "Remember when I said I couldn't see anything below this section of the street? I still can't. It'll take me some time to figure out what security they've got."
"It's alright, I think we're alone," Harry said, "But I'll go down first just in case."
"Be careful, you three," Neville said, " It's starting to really creep toward the morning now." Harry nodded, despite the fact that Neville couldn't actually see him, and clambered down into the dark. Out of the three of them, Harry's Dim-Light Goggles were the best. Prescription, as McGonagall said when she gifted them to him during their "debriefing."
Of course, according to the official record, the glasses were for investigating suspicious activity at a location far outside London.
The scraping noise of boots on concrete told Hermione that Harry reached the bottom. He called up for them after a few moments, and Hermione hurried down. They were in a basement of some sort with four labeled doors on all sides. A faint dripping could be heard in the distance.
"This is rather dull for a secret chamber," Ron said, voicing her inner thoughts, "I was expecting a giant snake or something." He was the last to climb down, dropping to the bottom with a dull thud after he closed the trap door behind him.
"That's because it isn't. Not really," Hermione said, "I think this is just the cellar, and boiler room. And whatever those two rooms over there are for. Neville, are you still there?"
She waited, but was met with silence.
"Nev?" Ron tried, putting his hand to his earpiece. Nothing. Hermione caught a couple of disconnected half words and garbled sentences before her earpiece went silent again.
"Sounds like there's no connection down here either," Hermione said, "or the signal is being jammed by the same thing stopping him from seeing the schematics."
"We'd better hurry then," said Ron, "I don't fancy being without our lookout."
"Well, if someone comes, we'll either find a way out...or fight our way out." As if to make his point, he touched the small pistol strapped in its holster. With his other hand, Harry moved the blacklight over the walls and floors, making a beeline for one labeled BOILER. Hermione stayed by the ladder for the time being, opting to go to the nearest room while listening for anything going on above. It was labeled OFFICE, though said office was entirely barren with old electrical holes scattering the walls. It almost seemed sterile, save a sizable puddle of water in the middle of the floor, off color as if it was the subject of a hasty cleaning job.
She returned to her post by the stairs and waited until Ron exited a room called STORAGE, shaking his head. He narrowly missed catching his foot on a crate full of preserved...something next to the door. Hermione didn't really want to look any closer.
"The storeroom is stacked to the absolute brim, not that I think any of it was food. Edible food, at least. Y'know how in movies, the bad guys often had mysterious things in bottles in their hideouts?"
Hermione nodded.
"That. It would take too long to look through every crate, so I took a few pictures and a couple samples instead." He closed the door behind him and followed Hermione to the boiler room, where Harry stood facing the far corner.
"This must be where the explosion occurred," he said flatly when he sensed Hermione's approach. He switched on one of his more intense flashlights and shined the beam so they could see, "look."
A large ashen spot spread from the floor to halfway up both intersecting walls was clearly visible, and Hermione bit her lip. Closer inspection revealed a good bit of stone missing from the right hand wall, and the concrete floor was mildly damaged, but had no more wear and tear than one would expect. She turned around, slowly running her flashlight over the various pipes and mechanisms in the room, noting that only one (nearest to the affected area) had a dent.
"...and here. I found these scattered around the room." Harry now had the blacklight tool in his hand, which he passed to Hermione, now looking paler than her flashlight beam. She took it in shaking hands, watching as one, two, three, four, five different prints showed up on the screen.
"These don't have names attached," Hermione said.
"Because they can't be sent to Neville right now, for confirmation" Harry said, "But..with how many there were aside from Kreacher's, they absolutely have to belong to…"
"Your parents." Harry nodded, lips pursed, and Hermione turned away.
"Then where…" She began to pace back and forth, shining her light on each large metal cylinder, each pump, tank, & crack in the wall. She took samples from as many places as she could. It certainly looked like there was damage beyond what you'd expect from a basement filled with machines. But the fact that everything, including the bar above, was so quiet and undamaged made the whole thing seem off. If there was so little damage then where were Harry's parents? Sirius, Remus, and Peter? She was itching to finish up and go through the evidence with a fine tooth comb.
"I've got it," Ron said suddenly. He was standing with one foot on either side of the doorway, periodically looking up at the closed trapdoor.
"What if they...you do?"
"Yes. May I?" he asked, leaning forward and raising his eyebrows. Hermione nodded, and Harry took Ron's place in the doorframe so the redhead could move around.
"This room is made of, largely, concrete. I'm a little iffy on the details, but these metal tubes are full of hot or pressurized water and all kinds of other things that make the building do what it's supposed to do, power wise. I'm talking about those located here, here, and there." He stopped to point to each of the different metal contraptions in the room.
"This entire room is a danger zone, obviously. Hence the big yellow caution sign on the door. A massive explosion would have caused this room to, at best, collapse, and at worst, take down the building with it. In conclusion, the explosion was fake. Someone staged it." He was focused, not smiling but clearly sure in what he was saying. Hermione was reminded of the many times (more times than she'd ever admit) Ron had beaten her at chess back in school.
"But...there's more!" Ron brushed past her and pointed to a few holes in the wall just across from each other, "Someone got lucky. If I had to guess, one person fired right into the corner, opposite the one I'm standing in. Bullets ricocheted off the wall and narrowly missed hitting one of these tanks. You would not want to be here if that'd happened. It's likely someone did get shot accidentally, though it seems whatever evidence was cleaned up before we got here. I did, however, notice this bullet lodged in the wall." He gingerly pulled the metal object out of the wall, and held it up. The bullet's bronze glinted even in the dim light and its sharp edges stood out against Ron's glove.
"Oh god, that's Sirius's," Harry said from the door, "Those are the bullets from his gun."
Ron's face shifted very quickly from proud to concerned, and he handed Harry the bullet. He then resumed his investigation to the smaller, hidden areas around the bullet holes. Harry reached up and tapped his glasses twice, bringing up a faint blue light as he examined Ron's discovery.
"There's no mistaking it," Harry said, "Sirius's gun. Snuffles."
"Is that the one you got in trouble for stealing when you were a child?"
"Yes, granted it was his fault for leaving it on the garden table," Harry said, laughing softly in spite of the grave situation, "He never did tell me why it was called that."
"Snuff means to die, kill, or extinguish," Hermione said automatically. Harry looked at her.
"Ah...that...that makes sense. I suppose. But why would he be the only one shooting his weapon? Was there any other evidence of weapon fire?"
"Not that I could tell," Ron said, "But I did find...something worse." Hermione saw Ron pause, then bend over and reach behind one of the tanks. Then he stood, holding something she frankly wished he hadn't found.
It was a finger.
The limb was mostly clean, shattered at the knuckle with bits of torn skin hanging off the end. Ron held it at arms length, looking at it strangely as he placed it in an evidence bag and pocketed it. At this point, Harry turned away from them both and leaned further out the doorway, a task Hermione and Ron immediately followed the moment they saw something was up.
The dull sound of footsteps approached above them. The tapping was somewhat uneven, as if the person walking had three limbs.
"Shit," Harry said, "It's Lucius Malfoy."
In an instant, all three of them extinguished their flashlights and plunged the basement into darkness. The only sound in the basement was Harry's cat-like footsteps across the concrete ground and the sound of their near-silent breathing. Hermione didn't need to ask how Harry knew who it was - the elder Malfoy was a familiar enemy to WIZARD, and everyone knew he walked with a cane.
In reality, said cane was a tool on par with the weaponry their own organization used, and she had no interest in being on the opposite end of it.
They crept out of the boiler room and into the hall, pressing as far away from the ladder as possible, while straining to hear what was going on above. Though it sounded angry, the low, sickly voice made it even more obvious Harry's assumption was correct.
Hermione's eyes adjusted to the darkness as they listened, and she began scanning the small hallway for places to escape or hide.
"You left the underground door unlocked," they heard from above, "and the security system disabled. Don't lie to me, Kreacher. I am here as we speak." There was a pause, and the steps stopped right over the closed ladder door, "The only reason you're still alive is your close relation to WIZARD and Mr. Dobbs. But leave my establishment unattended again and I will ensure your departure from my organization will be most unpleasant..."
The footsteps passed over their heads as Lucius moved toward the rear of Borgin and Burke's, likely to run a cursory check of the private rooms.
"I'm confident we covered our tracks," Hermione said, "But I'd say we have, at most, five minutes before he comes down here."
"I'd rather not fight Lucius Malfoy in the flesh just yet. We may never see my parents again. What about there?" Harry pointed to the final unopened door. It was almost flush with the wall and had no handle or label to speak of. Ron tried waving his Wand over the surface, listening for any recognition.
"Bad news," the red headed agent whispered, "nothing on it is unlock-able with the equipment I have on hand. It's some sort of unique chip."
"I think the Cloak is charged enough to work one more time," Harry said, his voice even quieter than Ron's, "But Malfoy is much more thorough than Kreacher." Hermione thought briefly about the empty room, but it wasn't large enough for all three of them to hide AND avoid Malfoy's discerning gaze.
A faint buzzing noise interrupted her thoughts, and Hermione turned around.
"Behind you."
Beep! Beep! Beep!
The door swung open, and the howl of a siren rang in their ears - loud and echoing, as if someone decided to set off every alarm in London. Hermione instinctively slipped a serrated knife from its sleeve. Ron and Harry's chosen weapons were out, too, but they saw nothing but another hole with a ladder.
"Must've been Neville," Harry said, "Let's move."
"And if it's a trap?"
"Then we deal with it - There's no way Malfoy didn't hear that. Go!" Ron grunted and flew into the room, climbing down the rungs of the ladder with no more hesitation. Hermione didn't need to strain to hear Malfoy's footsteps rapidly approaching. She followed Ron, knowing full well Harry wouldn't let her be the last one to leave, but she waited until she saw him close the door with a clunk before sliding down the ladder.
She only had a couple moments to take in the old, rancid smell of sewer before Harry tapped her on the shoulder and motioned for her to follow. Above, the loud alarm sounded again and they knew Malfoy was on their trail.
"Show yourself, trespasser," he said. Hermione was chilled by the suave commanding tone of his voice. She knew they couldn't risk their faces being seen...
So they ran.
Harry stepped out front, leading the way to god knows where as they sprinted down the cavernous path. Hermione followed, with Ron bringing up the rear. He pulled up his hood to cover his red hair and ducked as something whizzed past, landing with a splash in the dirty water.
They ducked around a corner just as something struck the wall ahead of them and kept going. The more space they put between themselves and Lucius Malfoy, the better. Harry breathed in time with his steps, then picked up the pace as he gained footing on the slick pavement.
Faster.
He led them round this corner, then another, then down a decline and back up. They doubled back once, stopping just long enough to hear Lucius coming from another direction, and give him a wide berth. They avoided any sections where a beam of light came from the street above, ignored service doors, and kept going until their chests hurt and legs ached. It was growing light outside by the time their pace slowed.
"Let's stop again...he's not...behind us..." Ron panted. Hermione didn't answer right away, but turned around and saw that Ron was right (or seemed to be). Lucius Malfoy was not in pursuit.
Harry, however, came to a sudden halt and held his hand up for them to stop. He motioned for both Hermione and Ron to step into a tiny enclave, pulled them close once again and threw the cloaking device down. It came to life in moments, allowing all three of them to step behind it and try to control their breathing.
They listened and waited. No sound could be heard except for the trickle of sewer water and the faint footsteps from an undetectable direction. Hermione's back was pressed against the rungs of another ladder, with a simple manhole above for them to climb up and out. Still, however, the young woman tilted her head to the side and closed her eyes to listen for any evidence of movement outside the little hovel.
"Wait a moment," she said as quietly as she could, "There may be more of them."
As if on cue, a pair of distant footsteps drew closer, and the trio soon watched two dark figures stalk past their hiding place without a second look, handguns out. Harry had been right to stop them.
"Why didn't he take em' out himself?" said one.
"Don't know. Don't care," said the other, "Just hurry the fuck up. If we catch whoever broke in there'll be a promotion for us."
"I doubt it."
"Shut up."
They continued to argue until the trio could no longer hear their voices or footsteps. Harry made a few silent hand gestures and pointed upward. This was Hermione's indication that she should climb up and out of the enclave. With some difficulty due to the space constraint, she turned around and lifted herself onto the closest rung, then climbed high enough to reach the manhole cover. First, she listened, though sensed no one above them. Then, she gave it a push.
The metal cover came free without much effort, and Hermione moved it aside enough for her to slip up and out. They were on the bottom floor of a car park, full of vehicles but inactive otherwise. This time, she took her only pistol from her waist and readied it, eyeing each parked car with discretion. Ron joined her not long after, and both of them stood guard as Harry exited the manhole and replaced the cover.
"Let's get away from here," he said when he stood up, "They're probably still looking for us and I want to connect with Neville."
"Right, but not looking like this!" Hermione replied. They each took turns ducking behind a large vehicle and changing - Hermione opened a large collapsible purse and deposited some of her gear into it, covering the rest with a modest dress she pulled from one of the bags attached to her waist.
"You always look better than us, Hermione," Harry said as he emerged, clad in an oversized tracksuit. Ron looked somewhat the same, though he was busy fiddling with his earpiece.
"Neville?Hey Neville!" he said, "Answer me!" They were met with the screech of mic feedback, and a sudden shuffling of papers.
"Holy shit - where have you been? You are past the time you were supposed to check in. Are Harry and Hermione alright?"
"We're fine," Hermione said. She hoisted her bag over her shoulder and nodded toward the exit, "We just just got...held up for a bit."
"No shit! I saw Malfoy approaching so I just...I figured out how to get that door open. I had no idea it'd be so damn loud."
"We made it just fine."
"Did you have to fight him? I didn't see him come back out on any of the cameras. No, don't tell me now."
"I wasn't going to."
"Right. I'll meet you at the end of the work day at the agreed upon location, alright? Just, no more disappearing on me." With that, Neville went quiet. They walked casually to the bottom of the parking lot, chatting about nothing and listening carefully to their surroundings. When they exited, they merged with the morning crowd, drifting with them until they were far enough to be comfortable.
"I hope we didn't scare Nev too bad," Ron said.
"We can make it up to him later this evening, buy his dinner or something," replied Harry.
"Hang on- you promised we'd get food before then."
"I suppose we could wait to look at that disembodied finger until after you've had your lunch."
"Point taken," Ron replied. He made a face and walked off toward the nearest train station. As they went, Hermione was already processing this morning in her head. The finger Ron found was barely in the dark light of the basement, even with their goggles on, but she remembered that it was free of marks. Both of Sirius's hands were tattooed, meaning the missing finger could not belong to him. So if Sirius's gun was only one shot, and the finger didn't belong to him…
She looked over at Harry's face and saw a similar concerned, pensive expression. He, too, wanted answers as quickly as possible.
This did not bode well.