.
So far... The reborn Hermione befriended Harry, Neville, Luna, and the Weasleys while young and, though Voldemort died early, she launched the secret Cathesis League to fight corruption. Now starting at Hogwarts, she formed CREST from the most trusted members of the old D.A. Meanwhile, a ruthless half-hag has been assigned to bodyguard Harry in his first year. Now read on...
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Chapter 43
The Plan That Went Wrong
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Calling for Help
For a full week, Hermione anxiously tried to work out how she might trap Daggard without killing the hag or allowing her to kill Harry, while at the same time revealing her to be the one who had tried to kill Draco and so prove Zabini's innocence. She fretted and worried and plotted, spoke to several people without revealing the whole of the plan she was forming to any one of them. Retrieving Harry's possessions was another critical concern, so one night she used her stealth to check Daggard still carried them all. What she discovered surprised her, but only a few days remained before the Christmas holidays would begin – it was now or never.
"We need to reveal Daggard's intentions to Professor Dumbledore," she declared at dinner the next evening to Ron and Neville, "and the Ministry too."
Ron nodded. "I was hoping you would. Personally I don't care if the old hag kicks the bucket – it's Harry we need to watch out for, and the sooner the better."
"Exactly. We could ask to see the Headmaster after this meal or tomorrow evening. I think we should make it a Crest activity. Get a few of us anyway and do it as a student self-help, support-Harry-our-leader kind of thing."
"Erm... how about Saturday morning, day after tomorrow instead?" whispered Neville anxiously. "Then people can finish their homework and have plenty of free time. I've got a ton of Charms to do."
"Well... we only need a couple of us from each house. How about me and Ron for Gryffindor, Hannah and Susan for the Hufflepuffs, and say, Terry and Michael for Ravenclaw? Then we can do it tonight."
Neville looked strangely relieved, and Ron nodded eagerly for a while before a frown of concern showed on his face. "Just be extra careful though, Hermione. That hag's tried to murder Malfoy, remember? She won't hesitate to have a go at you if–"
"Don't worry, I've thought of everything," smiled Hermione as she slipped away towards the Hufflepuff table.
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The Master Manipulator
"Enter," came the Headmaster's voice when Hermione knocked on the door. She smiled reassuringly at the Crest members gathered nervously behind her, then led the way in.
"Well, Miss Granger... and friends. I wondered when I might be seeing you again." Dumbledore drew up enough chairs with his wand and invited everyone to sit down.
Hermione cleared her throat. She spoke slightly nervously but reduced her lisp. "We're here representing our sthudy and sthelf-help group, Crest, and we need your help, Headmaster."
Dumbledore's bright blue eyes did not waver as he looked at Hermione's earnest expression. "Miss Granger, you will find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who... deserve it."
At those words there was a slight catch in Hermione's voice. "None more deserving than Harry ... Harry Potter. He is our leader, and he it is who needs help. His bodyguard handles him roughly and is holding some of Harry's personal, most-treasured family possessions and threatening to destroy them if Harry does not obey her. What is worse, she has threatened Harry himself because he vanquished Voldemort which she herself swore to do."
"Aah..." murmured Dumbledore, and his eyes darted around to every corner of his office. "Family possessions you say?" Apparently satisfied there was no intruder concealed beneath an invisibility cloak, he continued, "I cannot stress too strongly that when you leave this office, not one of you must ever speak a word to anyone of what we discuss here. Is that understood?"
There was a chorus of "Yes, sir."
Hermione then said, "And there is another student needing our help whose fate is now tied to Harry's. Crest is a self-help group but not exclusively for its own members. We believe Blaise Zabini is innocent."
The only noticeable change in the Headmaster's demeanour was that he almost imperceptibly straightened up in his chair and now his eyes were piercing. "Miss Granger, if you know anything..."
With one hand in her bag, Hermione said, "Zabini's ledger was delivered to Hogwarts for me to give Harry. I strongly suspect it contains proof that Steff Daggard is the real murderer. I was hoping you might be able to read it." She pulled out the diary and handed it over.
Dumbledore's eyes lit up with hope and as his brow furrowed he flipped through the pages becoming more and more intent as he did so.
He's very good, thought Hermione, trying not to look at the reaction of the others.
Several minutes passed while only the occasional turning of pages could be heard. Finally, Dumbledore said. "Your judgement is absolutely correct, Miss Granger; there is evidence here that the attacker was not Mister Zabini but that in itself is not enough to convict Miss Daggard. If the Aurors were to arrest her for questioning on suspicion then she would almost certainly die from – you are aware that she has sworn a life oath to protect Harry?"
"Yes sir, but there is hope of overcoming that problem," said Hermione, reaching once more into her bag. "The Weasley twins convinced me that many runic oaths finish at the end of the calender year, so once Miss Daggard delivers Harry safe and sound to his parents' protection at King's Cross station in a few days time, then her obligation is over. I only glimpsed the oath briefly when it was discovered in Harry's Gringotts vault but I've tried to draw a few of the shapes I remember. I was hoping you might decipher it." She held out a worn, heavily worked piece of parchment, looking rather embarrassed. "I know it's not much to go on..."
After a few moments of perusing the crude, incomplete scrawls, the Headmaster frowned and shook his head. "You saw the complete document? I wonder... perhaps you will permit me..."
He rose and walked over to a black cabinet from which he retrieved a shallow stone basin. Carefully he placed it on his desk. There were odd carvings around the edge: runes and symbols. Fascinated by the silvery light coming from the basin's contents, Susan leaned forward to get a better look. The fluid was moving ceaselessly; the surface of it became ruffled like water beneath wind, and then, like clouds, separated and swirled smoothly.
"Fascinating, isn't it? " said Dumbledore. "This is a Pensieve. It enables me to manage my thoughts and look at details."
"You mean ... that stuff's your thoughts?" said Ron, staring at the swirling white substance in the basin.
"Certainly," said Dumbledore. "Let me show you. Miss Granger, if you would concentrate on your recollection of the oath please..."
The Headmaster drew his wand out of the inside of his robes, and placed the tip into Hermione's thick bushy brown hair, close to her temple. Immediately she focused her mind on the copy of the oath she'd studied closely. When Dumbledore took the wand away, a wet hair seemed to be clinging to it – but then they saw that it was in fact a glistening strand of the same strange, silvery white substance that filled the Pensieve. Dumbledore added this fresh thought to the basin.
Dumbledore placed his long hands on either side of the Pensieve and swirled it, rather as a gold prospector would swirl for fragments of gold, then leaned forward and immersed his face...
As time passed, Michael and Terry exchanged anxious glances, wondering if the Headmaster was drowning, but when he emerged two minutes later, he appeared none the worse for wear.
"Miss Granger, I commend you on your detective work. You are quite correct; the runes make it clear that the oath will effectively end once Harry is back with his parents because their protection is intended to extend over the holidays – which means it covers the remainder of the oath's term. Intention is so important in magic as you may know. So, at King's Cross, Miss Daggard will effectively become free."
Hermione nodded. "One of the possessions that Miss Daggard has appropriated from Harry is a special family heirloom – an invisibility cloak. It is my belief that while the Black family are distracted by being together again, Miss Daggard will slip away, put on Harry's cloak, then either kidnap or even murder Harry before he and his family leave platform nine and three-quarters. There would be no evidence of Miss Daggard's involvement at all."
Hannah squealed in horror. "No!" The other gasped in shock. Susan remained strangely quiet.
"That is a very serious accusation to make, Miss Granger. However, being already aware of the threat that Miss Daggard presents to Mister Potter, I strongly agree that is the most likely moment that she will strike. I shall contact the Ministry and ensure there will be a great number of Aurors concealed on the platform to prevent such an attack. I shall also arrange for extensive shielding around Harry and anti-Apparition and anti-Portkey wards to be in place. Platform nine and three-quarters will be completely sealed off until Miss Daggard is safely in custody."
Hannah meekly raised a hand. "But what if she tries to take a hostage or escapes along the tracks? What if she has a broomstick?"
Dumbledore smiled. "The other children will be kept at a distance, Miss Abbott, and any attempt to escape will be regarded by the Ministry as a virtual admission of guilt. The magical courts work differently to the Muggle judicial system and in this case it will work in our favour. It is also likely that once arrested on this matter, then her being charged with the attack on young Malfoy will also be favourably accepted."
"Can we be sure of that, sir?" said Michael.
The Headmaster's smile faded. "Sadly, no. The political influences prevalent throughout the Ministry can sway a trial, and Miss Daggard is an expert in the matter. We must try our best, however, for not only Harry's safety, but for Master Blaise. The Zabini family have many enemies at the Ministry who will not let the boy off the hook unless their hand is forced. It comes down to this: if Miss Daggard is made to look guilty, then Mister Zabini will be accepted as innocent."
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The Helpless Traitor
Blissful would best describe Susan's mood as she lay in the cold dark corridor with the ropes from a binding curse cutting deeply into the flesh of her limbs. It was the most wonderful feeling she had ever experienced: a floating sensation as if all worry and every care in her head had been wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a delicious, drowsy rapture. She settled down feeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of the gentle, coaxing voice in her head:
Yer'll feel so pleasant if yer tell me what the 'eadmaster said next, won't yer Susan? Yer do wanna tell me, don't yer?
"More than anything..." came Susan's dreamy voice, but her deeply contented smile could scarcely be seen in the gloom. "He said the platform will be sealed off so when Miss Daggard strikes, it will be a dead giveaway. So happy... so happy..."
An' yer wanna be even more 'appy don't yer?
"Yes! Yes! Let me tell it all over again – with more detail!"
From the beginnin' then... Imperio!
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Christmas Holiday Plans
On the last day of the autumn term, breakfast was held in a spectacular setting. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls and no fewer than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles. Mountains of hot mince pies and heaps of honey-buttered crumpets were added to the usual fare, and Ron was stuffing his pockets for the train journey home.
"Why spend money buying from the trolley lady when there's all this free grub for the taking?" he responded when challenged by Hermione. "Besides, I'm still not sure what we're doing over the hols; Christmas dinner might be frogs and snails for all I know."
"What do you mean? You said you'd swapped messages with Harry and he promised to invite us all as soon as he spoke to his parents?"
"Yes, well, Luna's staying in France of course so that means Ginny will too. Mum wants a traditional Weasley Christmas at home but she's also determined to see Ginny for part of the time. Depends on the days and whether Mum'll drag me along. It's a bit of a mix up at the moment. What about you, Nev?"
Neville licked marmalade off his fingers and said matter-of-factly, "Not going home till next summer. I'm enjoying my independence to be honest. Christmas is a bit overrated anyway."
Ron and Hermione stared at him, and Hermione was about to say something when the rising sound of students beginning to head back to their dorms to finish packing finally drew her attention. "I suppose we'd better start getting ready..."
She frowned as she looked around. Harry had not come down to eat at all and she was worried about him. Despite Daggard still being locked into her oath, whenever Harry was unusually absent it was cause for concern. Still, the hag couldn't harm Harry and they'd see him boarding the train in an hour or two, safe and sound...
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Homeward Bound
"There they are, Hermione, Harry's on her other side, I saw him wave," said Ron, as they hurried onto the platform at Hogsmeade station. "You were right to come down early."
They waited together, watching the coaches' windows until they glimpsed a movement behind one. "That's him!" cried Hermione. "They're in the second from the front."
"So, shall we...?" said Ron, looking around the largely empty platform.
"Let's wait for some more of the Crestors before we board. Hannah's usually quite prompt. Ernie too."
They strolled along, lugging their trunks on their back-wheels to halfway along beside the train as it snaked around the slight curve. Hogwarts castle was obscured by forest – though in the opposite direction, the view beyond the end of the tracks was quite pleasant. There was no snow so far this year, and the day was overcast, but the hill slopes softened the skyline, and Ron thought he could see a friendly stream flowing down between the far trees.
"We hardly ever stop to see this part of the countryside, do we?" he murmured. "Reminds me a bit of Stoatshead – only the trees are different. "One day perhaps we could–"
"Ron! Hermione!"
They turned to see Hannah and Justin coming towards them with Dean, Susan, Ernie not far behind amongst a larger group of students huffing along with their baggage. The time to board the train was drawing near.
Satisfied that Harry was safely on the train and apparently in good spirits, Hermione and Ron crammed in with the others in the compartment next to Harry's – which, they quickly discovered, was locked and blanked out by charms as on the first trip.
"What's going on in there?" growled Ron. "Why's she keeping Harry hidden away again?"
"I don't know," shrugged Hermione. "I suppose so we don't stand and stare in from the corridor window, signal to him and so on."
"But what if she's up to something? Threatening Harry?" said Hannah.
"I don't think he's any worse off than when he was at Hogwarts. We just have to be patient until we get to London then Dumbledore will take care of everything."
"I do hope you're right," said Ernie. "I'd like to see that manky old hag locked up in Azkaban for the way she behaves."
"Don't worry, I don't see how anything can go wrong," said Hermione.
By mid-afternoon, the Hogwarts Express was well over halfway to London. The sky had brightened a little – though the hazy sunlight was descending in the west. Most everyone was by now completely at their ease and enjoying the journey. Dean had even fallen asleep but though Susan also had her eyes closed, she was showing increasing signs of agitation.
Ron whispered in Hermione's ear. "It's like she's fighting off some monster – you know, when you're in a nightmare trying to wake up."
"Mmm... it's all this worry. I'll help her relax and doze off..." She made a slight movement of her hand and Susan's head came to rest on Ernie's shoulder; he didn't object.
"But," murmured Ron, "what if–?"
"Don't worry, Ron, I'm sure she'll be fine. Just focus on what we have to do when we get to King's Cross."
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Broken
"Told yer I'd give yer summat back if yer behaved yerself, din't I?" Daggard held out her hand.
Harry almost sobbed in disbelief. "But... it's my mum's broken enamel. It's just metal now you've scratched away her image! Can't I have my dad's instead? I want to talk to him about my mum."
But even as Harry spoke, he felt shame probing at the edges of his mind. This is yer only personal contact with yer real mother. She'd want yer to keep it close ter honour her memory, wun't she? Wear it roun' yer neck, yeah?
Harry could see a fine chain had been melded to the small oval of white gold – all that remained of his mother's portrait. Yes... I should honour her... He reached out tentatively.
Keep it secret, she'd say... keep it hidden... just us togevver...
Harry nodded to himself as he took the pendant-like metal lozenge and slipped its chain over his head. Immediately he felt as if all his concerns were lifted away and a delightful drowse pervaded him from head to toe. This was right. This was how it should be...
That's it, Harry... she loves yer even more now. Yer can feel it can't yer? So long as yer keep it well hidden...
For a few moments, Harry thought the silvery surface trembled and glowed a soft blue, but he felt an increasing relief from concern as fingers carefully pushed the ruined portrait down under the collar of his shirt where it couldn't be seen.
She'll always be wiv yer, won't she, eh? Even when yer gets 'ome, yer'll keep it on yer, right?
"Always..." Harry murmured to himself from the happy, peaceful pool in which he now bathed.
"Obliviate..." murmured the hag-witch.
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Panic on the Platform
Trainee Auror Nymphadora Tonks watched excitedly as the Hogwarts Express pulled into King's Cross Station. This was her first real field training exercise and she didn't want to mess it up. True, she was ordered to remain an observer except in emergency, but she checked her wand once more – tightly gripped yet not too tightly – glanced down to ensure her Disillusionment Charm was concealing her adequately at the back of Platform nine and three-quarters, and that she was keeping the faint shimmer of her tutor, Alastor Moody forward and left three paces. If only the girls from school could see her now!
"You still sharp, Tonks?" growled her senior.
"Yessir!" Tonks straightened herself up as the train slowed to a halt and noisy, shouting students began to tumble out of the opening doors midst the steam and smoke. In the thick of them she spotted a boy with dark hair and spectacles accompanied by a haggish-looking witch.
Moody muttered, "Damned hag's mixing in with the crowd – if you have to use your wand, keep it low, Tonks; we don't want any innocent casualties."
"Will do." Tonks distorted her face briefly to point one eye towards Sirius and Hestia Black who were hurrying forward from further down on her left amongst other parents, then she snapped her full attention back to the boy.
Harry Potter. Who'd have believed my first assignment would be on the team protecting the boy who lived!
"Why's he not waving, sir? You'd think he'd look delighted to be meeting his parents after four months but he's kind of... unconcerned, even dozy."
"You'd be dozy with a hag watching your every move all that time. Check your section of the wards again."
Tonks had a physical gift which included forming many subtle facial shapes and expressions, and Harry's didn't quite fit the pattern her expertise expected. "But..."
"The wards, Tonks! You and I will be central to the contact. She's as smart as she's ugly and might take only a minute or so to crack our Anti-Apparition, so keep checking them. On no account must Daggard escape!"
"Yessir!"
As the Black family came together, Daggard sucked hard on her pipe. A large gout of steam and smoke seemed to belch from the adjacent locomotive to partly obscure the gathering. Moody strode forward with Tonks close behind.
"Harry, darling!" cried Hestia.
"Are you alright, pup?" smiled Sirius, with a glance at Daggard near Harry's shoulder.
"I'm fine," said Harry.
"Why wun't 'e be?" smirked the half-hag. "Wotcher 'xpect? 'e's safe 'n sound in't 'e?" She looked around grinning. "Well, I'll be off then." She strolled slowly away down the platform. "See yer nex' year, Harry!"
Hestia said, "Harry?"
A thought whispered into Tonks' head and she yelled, "Imperious! Harry's been cursed!"
Like a breaking shoal of fish, the confused crowds of students and parents swerved screaming outwards from the group of Blacks. With one look over her shoulder, Daggard scowled and bolted away.
Moody's wand was fastest – but not fast enough. Just as Tonks shrieked, "Ward's failing," in a great puff of pipe smoke, the half-hag had twisted on the spot and with a loud crack, vanished.
Moody's face was livid as he removed his concealment charm. "Damn you, Tonks! I told you–"
"-right this moment they only flickered. I was checking, sir! They're still up!"
"Miss Tonks is correct." Abruptly Dumbledore and several other Aurors appeared looking crestfallen. "I examined them myself only seconds ago, and they were intact – still are," he added, after a swift flick of his wand. "How Miss Daggard broke through them even for a moment seems..."
"Impossible!" cried Moody, his magical eye swivelling rapidly about. "Seal the platform! Nobody goes out! She may be still here!"
As the Aurors spread out, searching the visible and invisible, Hestia crouched down and used her healing knowledge to remove the Imperious curse from Harry.
"She kidnapped Hermione!" he immediately wailed, flailing his arms about and squirming to try to break away from his mother's grasp. "She bound her tight in our compartment!"
"Tonks! Find Miss Granger!" ordered Moody, pointing at the coach doorway from which Harry and Daggard had emerged earlier.
Dumbledore said, "Alastor, you know how Miss Daggard thinks. Could she have... deceived us?"
Nodding, Moody sighed. "I'm getting old, Albus. I'll wager she never cracked the wards, but only hexed Tonks's testing spell. She pretended to Disapparate but actually pulled on Harry's cloak and legged it out of the exit before we realised. She'll be long gone – Disapparated from outside."
"At least it's not a complete failure," said Dumbledore as he swept off after Tonks, "Harry is safe and Miss Daggard will likely be captured now you have grounds for arrest."
The Headmaster found Hermione crying in Tonks's arms surrounded by broken cords, and wailing, "She sthnatched my wand! I want my wand!"
Dumbledore turned to poke his head back out of the open doorway. "Alastor. Missing wand. She might have thrown it away. Can you see it anywhere?"
Moody scanned the train and platform with his magical eye.
"There!" cried Harry, pointing to the tracks under the Hogwarts Express.
Moody summoned it up and handed it to Dumbledore. Hermione's face brightened at once, but tears still sparkled, and the Headmaster asked Tonks if she would escort the girl outside to meet her parents. He looked to Moody for approval.
The old Auror nodded. "Platform's been scanned. Train's cleared too. Daggard is now officially at large and in time we should catch her. We can definitely convict her of using the Imperious on a minor and that might sway the Wizengamot to accept her being guilty of trying to kill Malfoy. But she'll only get five years for the Imperious because nothing much came of it. Makes you wonder, why exactly did she Imperious Harry?"
"We may never know, Alastor, but I suspect she intended for Harry to drink poison or leap to his death at some future time. At least that can't happen now."
"Thank Merlin for that."
"And thank Auror Tonks too in my opinion." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at his friend Moody. "It was her sharp eyes that noticed something wrong with Harry, and on her first assignment too? Perhaps a commendation is in order?"
"You're right Albus. I'll see to it personally."
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A Hag's Holiday
Steff Daggard roused happily and dozily to one of those lovely Christmas-holiday awakenings with no work for a hag to do except mince an extra heap of liver, soft light only just creeping in at the fringes of her tightly-shut eyelids, and the cool air touching her face made the tight-snuggly blankets even more comforting – all was wonderfully right with the world.
She yawned happily, too lazy yet to even roll over. Not one dream had disturbed her slumber and yesterday's perfect escape only slowly filtered back into her mind: Harry delivered safely to his parents so that tiresome oath no longer threatened her life every hour of the day! Dumbledore and those dumb Aurors outwitted as she strolled casually to–
"Feggin' 'ell!" Her voice was a croak from a dry throat, as she recalled a stupid junior Auror shouting about the Imperious curse on Harry. Dammit, now I'm a bloomin' fugitive! She made a slight effort to roll onto her side but the blankets were too tightly trapped under her fat butt. At least I escaped 'em all! I'm free an' they'll never find me!
A sleepy smile crossed her colourless lips and she languidly tried rolling the other way to free the awkwardly-wrapped sheet. Jammed again! Her eyeballs ached as she rolled them with the lids still closed. I 'ate lying on me 'ump like a feggin' stranded turtle!
A frown crossed her brow. 'ow did I escape, anyway? Still drowsy, she was trying to work herself fully awake in preparation for a proper effort to get out of bed, when she heard the impossible: half a conversation approaching – a man's voice that she well knew. Despite the cosy warmth, an icy chill seized her body and, eyes now fully open, she struggled to sit up and snatch out for her pipe – to no avail. There were no blankets and no bedroom. Daggard was securely bound and the darkened ceiling seemed far, far above.
"She's ready for questioning?"
"Bartemius Crouch. I might 'ave known! Come to gloat at my arrest?" coughed Daggard. "'Ow'd them blighters catch me, eh? Get me pipe fer me, would yer? I'm gasping for a drag."
"They?" The voice and several footsteps came to a halt nearby but she couldn't turn enough to see her captors.
"Well you ain't smart enough on yer own to catch a cold, are yer, yer great nelly! Moody was left fool-footed an' Dumbledore's way past 'is usefulness. Me 'ump shield's me back anyway so a squad must 'ave cross-cursed sideways ter black someone like me out cold." A sinister tone now affected her voice. "I'd like ter congratulate 'em – 'oo were they?"
"That would be me," came a deep voice.
Daggard strained to see sideways. "Eh? 'oo's there?"
Adam Brown stepped into her eyeline.
Daggard tried to shake her head but couldn't – though she did manage a sneer. "Never on yer life! You an' oo's army?"
"Just me with a shield-breaking curse, an invisibility charm, a stunner, a fake Disapparition turn and sound, and a hover charm to float you back along the tracks behind the Hogwarts Express until we were clear of the wards."
"Impossible. 'ain't no Auror livin' can do all them spells so fast together."
"Yet here you are."
"Yeah, well a Ministry cell won't hold me long, I can tell yer that for nowt. An' yer obliged ter supply provisions, water, smokes for them what needs 'em. Where's me pipe?"
Crouch said, "We know all about your magical pipe – and your cursed knife – so they're in another chamber from where you can't summon them."
Even tightly bound, both Crouch and Brown could see Daggard sag slightly.
"In that case, we do a deal. Yer let me go an' I let Harry Black live."
"Harry's safe where you can't ever reach him," said Adam.
"Wanna bet?" smirked Daggard. "Yer've no idea what hag-magic can do, do yer? Harry Black's life is in my 'ands, not yours, an' 'e 'as an 'orrible death waitin', I promise yer. Now be good little boys an' release me, an' I'll tell yer how ter save 'im."
Crouch and Brown exchanged glances. Adam angrily stepped towards the prone half-hag and his huge right fist clutched her throat in a death grip. "Speaking of Harry being in your hands reminds me you're still in possession of his property that you stole, aren't you?" Adam's hand slid down from the throat and plunged below Daggard's neckline.
"'Oy, yer pervy bugger! 'and's off me knockers!"
"Don't flatter yourself," growled Adam, pulling out a mokeskin pouch from the half-hag's robes.
The eyes of Daggard bulged whitely in the gloom. "'ow d'yer do that? 'ow d'yer even see it? Who the fegg are yer, anyway?"
Adam winked at her. "I'm Adam Brown and you are a total prat. Never buy a cheap female mokeskin pouch because it can be easily seen after drinking a potion made from the pupils of a male moke."
Daggard glared, then frowned. "Think I'm stupid do yer? There ain't no such thing as a pupil – it's just an' 'ole."
Adam laughed darkly and began pulling out Harry's belongings one by one which he then stuffed into his small beaded bag, but the final one he held up briefly so Daggard could see it. "Here, you can keep this one as a souvenir. It's the portrait you ruined, and no use to Harry now."
Daggard's eyes bulged as Adam thrust the enamel into the pouch again, which he then stuffed back down Daggard's neckline. "NNNNOOOO!" wailed the half-hag, whose grey, warty face had drained of what little colour it'd had.
"Don't worry, Harry won't want it; it will only remind him of his loss."
"GEDDIT ORF ME! GEDDIT IT AWAY!"
"But why? It's only harmless gold and silver alloy." Adam turned away and walked off with Crouch. "We'll be back to–"
Daggard screamed, "WHAT'S THE TIME! WHAT TIME IS IT!"
"Erm..." Adam looked back over his shoulder as he slowly reached into his robes. After a slow search, he said, "Mmm... seems I've forgotten my watch. How about you, Barty?"
"About me, what?" drawled Crouch.
"HURRY FOR PITY'S SAKE!" screeched the hag.
"The time," said Adam. "Our prisoner wishes to know the time."
"Ah! right..." Crouch searched his own pockets then after a while, slapped his forehead and looked at his wristwatch. "It's uuh..." He squinted in the gloom. "...something after two in the morning, I think." He tapped his watch as if it were unreliable. "Might be a bit later."
Daggard squealed, "TAKE IT! TAKE IT! IT'S... it's a... Portkey. Take it quickly an' destroy it."
Crouch and Brown exchanged glances. Adam said. "A Portkey? Are you sure? You mean... you could escape with it? Well, that's very honest of you I must admit I hadn't expected you to–"
"NOW! NOW! GERRIT OFF ME OR YER'LL KILL ME! IT'S A PORTKEY TO A PIT O' FLESH-EATIN' SLUGS!"
Adam frowned in puzzlement. "But why would you want to escape to such a slow, grisly death?"
Daggard stared in realisation at Adam as it dawned on her she'd been had. "Yer knew all along, yer bastard?"
"Knew what?"
Daggard took a deep breath. "'AVE YER FIXED IT? It's not a Portkey no more?"
Adam gasped in horror. "Listen, if you say it's a Portkey then it's still a Portkey. How do we stop it? How can we do it safely?"
Crouch backed off, snapping, "I'm not touching it, and that's final! Not till we know the exact time for sure. It's not safe."
Daggard squirmed desperately within her restraints. "YER GOTTA 'ELP ME! PLEASE 'ELP ME!" she screamed. "I confess, alright? I gev it 'arry. Just gerrit off me!"
As Daggard lay writhing and screeching, a blue flash enveloped her and, with a final terrified scream, she hurtled off into a void.
Silence remained.
"You know, Rosie," said Crouch, "you really are what she called you."
"A bastard?" grinned Adam. "I know I am."
"Well... shall we proceed into the receiving chamber?" said Crouch. "We've already got our confession and Vera will be waiting."
Adam nodded, took Crouch's arm, and they swept away through the stone wall. A few seconds later they arrived in the adjacent cavern.
"Ah, there you are," said Vera. "She's mumbling and grumbling over there and I think she's wet herself."
"Eww... that's so gross." Adam walked over to where Daggard now lay on the stone plinth, and summoned the broken portrait which he put in the beaded bag. "That's enough fun for one day. We have your confession. Now agree to three of these questions which we shall ask you under the influence of Veritaserum. We'll give you fifteen minutes to decide. If you refuse then the top three will be used." Brown floated the Triapetit list into the hag's view then turned and began to walk away.
"'ow? 'ow d'yer know 'bout the Portkey? Even Black din't remember 'e'd got it on 'im once I cursed 'im."
"I knew back at Hogwarts," Adam called over his shoulder. "I detected the Portus charm on the broken portrait when I retrieved the oath and changed the destination to Harry's home. Naturally, I checked it again on the train and at King's Cross too, so Harry was always safe. I slipped it back into your pouch then Confunded you so you weren't sure whether you'd given it to Harry on the train."
"You were at 'ogwarts?" cried the bewildered crone. "Then yer name in't Adam Brown. I've gorr'a map that... I 'ad a map with names on it an' there weren't never no Adam Brown near me at Hogwarts. What's yer real name?"
"Call me... Aculus," shouted Adam from across the chamber as he joined the other two.
Fear showed in Daggard's eyes. "Then you ain't 'uman. You keep well away from me, you 'ear?"
Adam's deep roar echoed round the unyielding granite walls. "So choose your three questions! Once you've answered them, then you'll never see me again!"
Daggard's growled response was too far off to hear properly but it did question Adam's pedigree several times more. He turned away and grinned at Mrs Gair. "Hi, Vera."
"Good to see you again, Rosie," smiled Vera, "or should I say, Aculus? How many aliases do you have anyway?"
"Call me Adam when I'm like this, else it's confusing. How's Jop?"
"Fine! We're making real progress at the Ministry, aren't we, Barty?"
"We've gained a little," acknowledged Crouch. "There have been three natural retirements from the Wizengamot these past few months; two were blood-purity supporters and one was a Muggle sympathiser. The new members reverse that proportion so we gained one without any special notice being taken by anyone."
Adam nodded his approval.
However, it's better than that," continued Crouch. "Old Renshaw died last month leaving his son to sign in during a lull. Renshaw was a wishy-washy in-between who was always easily persuaded by the Pure-bloods so, over the years, their camp took the name Renshaw for granted and gave no thought to the son..."
"I'm givin' yer one last chance to save Harry Black!" Daggard wailed desperately.
"She's bluffing, Adam. If she had a genuine deal she'd call it out. Ignore her, Barty, carry on with your story," said Vera.
"Well... Jop, knowing about old Renshaw's health, anticipated the loss and for the past year or two has been persuading the son to appreciate our views without making a big issue out of it. He was voted in by only a handful of our team on a slack day. Honestly, Adam, nobody even noticed – still haven't actually because the minutes still show W. Renshaw attending. They'll notice sure enough when it comes to an important vote, you'll see." Crouch turned his attention to watch Daggard who was still muttering to herself.
"And you, Vera?" said Adam. "How are you enjoying the admin side, especially with our Muggle contacts?"
"Wonderfully. Mike is making good progress connecting with Muggle industry and we're seeing the beginnings of an interdependence. "We're–"
"–Something's wrong!" cried Barty running towards Daggard.
A heavy rumble underfoot shook the mountain and Adam's stunning spell hit Daggard at the same time as Barty's. The noise stopped.
"What happened?" shouted Adam as he ran after Crouch.
"The hag's been muttering what I think was a demonic incantation. I'm hoping we stopped her in time." He looked anxiously around.
Vera approached them cautiously. "You're serious? There are such things as demons? You mean she was summoning a demon? Here? What is it? I mean, what might it do?"
Crouch nodded. "It's very dark magic. Some say demons were once men hoping to become so again. Such fiends will do absolutely anything to escape their hellish existence even for a few days' respite."
Vera gnawed worriedly at her knuckles. "You mean from... down there?" She pointed down into the Earth. "But what will it do? Are we safe here?"
Adam said, "The most ancient are very powerful and collect souls for their chimerical master."
Vera shrieked and covered her mouth with a shaking hand.
Crouch shook his head. "That's not likely in this case. Daggard would have needed a sizeable runic circle and a sacrifice as well as a ritual lasting days. No, I think at most she'd have been trying to call up a newly-formed evil spirit. While such a tormented soul would be helplessly weak at first and take a long time to ascend from its fiery pit and strive to become material, the beast would mature, grow in strength and might help Daggard escape."
"How long before it got here?" Vera's head was jerking in different directions as she peered anxiously into every corner.
"Don't worry about it yet. I doubt that Daggard completed a full pattern of incantations, and she'd have had to do it wandlessly."
"But what if she did? How long for it to get here?" insisted Vera.
"Weeks perhaps. We can't stand guard here permanently." Crouch frowned as he thought through the possibilities. "You're right, of course, we can't take chances. ... We'll have to set up a Foe-glass connected to portable Sneakoscopes. Yes, that should do it. Demons are impervious to most wizard-magic but they're only given limited time to fulfil their task."
"What do you mean?"
Crouch said, "Evil will punish them–"
"Evil! You mean...?"
Crouch blinked in surprise, then his face cleared. "Ah... I keep forgetting your Muggle myths. No need to fear evil itself because it's powerless except to those who enslave themselves to it. Only those who serve evil are afraid of it because their own evil will punish them even more mercilessly if they do not fulfil the summons promptly. Our best chance is for two or three of us to trap it somehow while it's young and inexperienced, then, if the demon has failed in its duty, evil will drag it back down to an even deeper, more horrific hell than it suffered before."
"Duty? said Vera.
Adam said, "A demon is summoned to a task, usually in return for the soul of the one who calls it – Daggard in this case – unless the task itself is to take a soul. They say failure carries a dreadful penance."
Vera shook her head. "Look, I'm not trying to be funny but, I mean, yes, you sound worried yet–"
"We are!" said Adam.
"Not ENOUGH!" shouted Vera. "It's a DEMON! For real? You should be frantic!"
Adam put his hand around Vera's shoulder to try to comfort her. "Summoning a demon is indirectly a pact with the devil. If Daggard receives demonic help to escape then ultimately her own soul will be forfeit. And remember, she won't have her magic much longer..."
Reaching into the beaded bag, Adam retrieved and held up a tiny vial in which squirmed a ravenous hirudo. "Barty, are we agreed that Daggard has confessed to attempting to murder Harry which at the very least merits a term in Devil's Deep and the loss of her magic?"
"Quite correct," Crouch nodded firmly, "and I would say that crime alone merits a term of life because a child being consumed by flesh-eating slugs would take months of the most excruciating–"
"STOP! STOP!" wailed Vera, clamping her hands over her ears. "I don't want to think about it."
Adam looked thoughtfully at the young woman. "So, Vera, does that mean you accept our testimony to Daggard's confession and agree that she must at least lose her magic?"
Vera nodded. "Definitely. Absolutely. Totally!"
They watched as Adam placed the leech on Daggard's eye, and the creature soon burrowed inside.
"Are you sure it will work on a creature such as this?" said Crouch. "After all, she's not fully human."
Nodding thoughtfully, Adam said, "All living things have their own genetic code and I prepared this parasite most carefully to latch onto hers. But it will not go well with her."
"Why? What do you mean?" said Vera.
"A hag is entirely a magical creature and not human at all – never was. Like dragons, unicorns, and other such creatures, they cannot exist without magic. A half-hag like Daggard will feel not only the loss of all her magic but the absence of that part of her mind and being which she valued most. She'll suffer for months before she comes to terms with the two things she detests: being non-magical and a human."
Adam was right; when Daggard awoke she moaned horribly and continuously, even during her questioning under Veritaserum. The rest was a formality. Numerous crimes were proven and the trio had no trouble sentencing her to life in Devil's Deep.
"It don't end 'ere!" she squealed as the three prepared to depart. "There'll be payment taken fer what yer've done ter me! Just you wait an' see!"
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—oOo—
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Author's Notes
A guest reviewer, Ivory, was a bit confused with all the Zabini/Draco/Susan/Daggard plot. To clarify briefly: Malfoy invited Zabini up the Tower. Daggard followed and under Harry's cloak blasted Draco, then altered Zabini's memories so he thought he'd done it. Zabini fled but Daggard tracked him with the Marauders Map to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Ultra-cautious, and not wishing for Zabini to be caught before Daggard left Hogwarts (in case Dumbledore sensed something didn't add up) Daggard Imperiused Susan to take Zabini from the bathroom to the much more secure Room of Requirement and bring him food. The longer Zabini was 'on the run', the more incriminating it would seem. But unknown to Daggard, Zabini's memory log recorded what really happened. :D
The next chapter might be a bit late because for the last three months I've been immersed in a terrific video game called Fallout 4 and admit my writing time was reduced by my playtime! ;)
Many thanks for all comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful. :)
– Hippothestrowl
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