.
So far... The reborn Hermione launched the Cathesis League to fight Dark corruption, and Crest defensive training at Hogwarts where she'll soon begin her third year. After a dubiously brief trial Luna and Neville have been sent to Azkaban. Harry and Hermione have found Luna, mistreated and confused, in her cell, but Neville has been taken away by Runcorn and a tall, mysterious, darkly-clad woman with piercing eyes. Now read on...
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Chapter 74
The Infernal Medusa
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The Prancing Prince
"My wand please, Harry," said Hermione, adding, "Luna, I need your memory," as she took a small vial from her beaded bag, "and your permission to reveal it to three others."
"My memory?" Luna gazed up from where she still sat amidst the filth and straw that littered the prison cell floor.
"When Tashew... hurt you. I need it as evidence. You don't need to concentrate on it nor rake it over in your mind; simply identify it as your idea of the whole memory." She paused, thinking. "No wait, not so much the outer scene, but your inner experience."
Luna nodded. Her gaze turned inward. Hermione reached out with her wand to the side of Luna's head. It was done.
"Can we rescue Neville, now?" whimpered Luna. The suggestion of hope in her tone faded as she saw their expressions.
"I'm sorry, Luna," said Hermione. "I believe the witch would have used a Portkey then Apparated to make it impossible to trace Neville's destination. Runcorn would not likely be needed further so I doubt he went with them. He would probably have Obliviated most of his memories of this whole sordid affair. He might remember conducting the trial within the law and Fudge's sentence, but little else."
Luna's eyes shone with new tears. Little fists smeared her cheeks dry. "Thank you for telling me properly then, Hermione." The girl tried to force a smile. "May I whisper my final goodbyes before we go?"
Puzzled, Hermione watched as Luna scrabbled in the mound of straw beside her, finally to retrieve the little ragbag she often carried.
Hermione nodded. "You hid that before Tashew took your...?"
But Luna's attention was entirely on the contents of her cloth purse. With trembling fingers she withdrew what Hermione took to be clear amber in the bluish light from the Patronuses in the outer corridor. Only when its soft lozenge shape flashed did she finally recognise what it was.
"Your two-way mirror!"
Astonishment! Daring to hope! Surely its twin could not be with...?
"I thought Ron and Olive had–"
"–They didn't want to risk taking them through the Egyptian customs," explained Luna, "so they gave them back to Neville and me."
"But that means..."
"I know what you're thinking," Luna said sadly, "but he's been cursed, and you can't tell where he is."
"You've already spoken to him!"
"Oh, yes, but he asked me not to call again. He has to attend an initiation ceremony at midnight, you see."
"What!"
"I don't think he'll mind if I whisper adieu to my brave knight..."
"No, wait!" Hermione's voice had shot up a couple of octaves, then she toned it down. "Let me at least look. I might recognise–"
"–there's nothing definite to see." Luna reluctantly let Hermione take the mirror. "I tried and tried."
Hand shaking, Hermione peered at her own reflection in the glass. "Neville?" she whispered as softly as she could.
There was a long pause.
"Doth my Princess call?" Neville's entire face filled the mirror. It was dimly lit but enough to see the madness in his eyes.
"I worship another now, dear one. I was blessed to kiss her ankle." Hermione could see him shudder with delight. "Soon she will inaugurate me and I shall sit beside her throne forever."
"Neville, it's me..." pleaded Hermione, hoping for a glimpse of the room he was in.
"Tonight I serve a new mistress," – there was now a misty look to Neville's eyes – "and shalt dwell in rapture thereafter."
"Tonight..." Hermione's face screwed up tight as she tried to think. "But until then... might we have one last dance? Grant me that, my brave knight!" She began to hum an ancient Ballata as nearly as she could remember it.
Neville's eyes were glazing over. He held out his arms as if they were placed upon an unseen dance partner, and began to swirl about in a daze. With the mirror extended from him, Hermione saw something glitter in Neville's hair. During several moments of blinking, in which she wondered if it might be Ravenclaw's diadem, she decided it was a royal circlet. Too hurried to concern herself further with the tasteless adornment, Hermione's eyes darted about the shadowy chamber in which Neville swayed and pranced.
Luna had joined her. "You see? Just pale stone walls..."
Desperate, Hermione scoured every inch of the background behind Neville, hoping to glimpse one distinctive feature. She released a groan. The macabre dance was ended. A lush four-poster bed and small tables piled high with food and drink informed her that Neville was being well-treated, yet not one window was to be seen. Apart from a tiny air grill, there was nothing structurally identifying about the chamber. Even the ambient lighting was bland and shadowless presumably from a small central chandelier out of sight and high above. If it were not for light reflecting off the white stone of the walls, the space would be even darker.
"Where are you, Neville?" pleaded Hermione. "Do you know where you are?"
"Paradise," replied the stricken boy, flinging his arms around so rapidly, Hermione feared he might lose the mirror. "I shall sit on her right hand for all time. I have everything one could wish for. I need only ask!" His arms gestured to the opulent bed and abundant supplies of rich food.
He snapped his fingers and Hermione became aware of a new threat: a regally clad house elf in page uniform faintly discernible in the deep gloom. Fearful of the creature noticing and reporting the mirror to the enemy, she quickly covered the glass with one hand and kept silent until Neville dismissed it with a lofty flick of his wrist. "I am master here!" the boy bragged.
"Neville, don't you see? You won't be royalty; you'll be a slave! They're using you!" cried Hermione – rather pointlessly she straight away realised.
"Farewell, sweet prince," murmured Luna.
"Shush! Listen!" said Harry.
Involved in the reflection, the girls had forgotten Harry, and his abrupt cry startled them.
"Listen!" he repeated, finger to his lips.
Then they heard it: the faint but unmistakable cry of a peacock.
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A Forced Decision
"I know where he is!" Hermione's declaration had such conviction that Luna rose to her feet, eyes white with hope. Hermione did not keep her in suspense: "The Malfoys keep peacocks in their garden. Neville's locked in their basement."
Harry frowned. "No sharp corners, just like our common room at Hogwarts." He pointed at the mirror. "Is the basement circular?"
"I... I don't know, Harry. I only saw the... drawing room." Hermione's face flickered with pain at the memory. "Somehow I doubt it, because old manors are usually constructed aligned to rectangular–"
"–then it's a round tower!" cried Harry, triumphantly seizing the mirror from Hermione and staring into it. "And those walls are not white stone! See how yellowish pale the blocks are? I bet you anything they're ivory! Neville's in an ivory tower at Malfoy Manor! Come on, Hermione! We have to rescue him!"
She stared at his face, lit up as it was with enthusiastic valour. "Harry..."
"We can – what? What are you waiting for? You heard what he said. They'll initiate him! That means they'll probably totally Obliviate him and turn him to see things their way!"
"Harry... there is no ivory tower at... Malfoy ... Manor..." Hermione said softly. I should know... in my former life I demolished each slab and stone of the loathsome place and every foul, living thing within it...
Her voice had given out towards the end. Luna sniffled and sank down into the straw once more. Harry glared at them both. "But..."
"Harry... an ivory tower is most often not a real place. but an imaginary concept withdrawn from reality and worldly affairs. It's sinking into fantasy and daydreams. That's where Neville is now – inside his head."
Harry's face grew dark. His chest heaved and his breathing was loud and short. "Well I don't believe you!" he stormed. He thrust the mirror forward and pointed into it. "That's not imaginary, is it! It's a real place. And I'M going to find it!"
He leaned down and took Luna's hand. "Luna and Neville are my friends, Hermione! And if you're too scared, then... then we're going to rescue him on our own!"
Luna rose up to stand beside Harry but her fingers were white and limp within his grasp, and, as she stumbled against him, he felt, inside his robe pocket, the pathetic toy wand digging into his side. Out in the passageway, the stag Patronus began to fade as it dawned on Harry that bravado was not enough to storm a magical fortress, and he had no idea how to even reach Malfoy Manor, let alone break in without Hermione. He bit his lip. "Will you at least... take us there?"
She was staring at him, reassessing the young man. Then she said, "I will, Harry. Of course I will."
But behind her back, her fingers were crossed, and Hermione Granger was wondering if she'd made the right decision.
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Becoming Luna
"Think I'll just check on that new inmate," sneered one of the warders, as he slouched off towards the weapons rack hanging near the open doorway of Azkaban's barracks. He was a big fellow, potbellied, and he swayed from the excess wine with which he'd washed down his lunch.
"Now see here, Tashew!" growled an older man from his position at the table. He pushed away his plate and reached for a tobacco pipe. "None of your funny business!"
"Course not," leered Tashew, winking at another guard. "You said yourself you thought you heard a distant bang a while back. I'm just going to do my duty..."
The third guard sniggered and dipped bread into the remains of his gravy.
The older man's pipe flared into life and he began puffing away as he tilted back his chair to a more comfortable position. "Yeah, right... see that you do."
Before staggering to the door, Tashew chose a brutal-looking whip, then changed his mind and seized a leather-covered nightstick instead.
Listening beyond the threshold, Harry stiffened and his free hand curled into a fist moments before he felt Hermione's immateriality take over and, together with Luna, the three drifted after their unsuspecting prey – but not before Hermione had Obliviated the remaining men of all memory of Tashew's existence...
Silently and invisibly they'd waited for this opportunity, watching and listening intently. Harry's stone barricade had been removed, Hermione had relocked Luna's old cell then emulated the same Confundus charm on the girl's log entry as had been cast upon Neville's. For the foreseeable future, nobody would discover that Luna wasn't a resident of Azkaban anymore.
"Stupefy." It had been Harry's whisper – Hermione being curious to discover how much the Chosen One could achieve with a junior wand. She was not disappointed. Tashew's limp body never reached the floor until they were far, far away in a different kind of prison: Devil's Deep.
"Try your wand, Luna," said Harry. "See if you're getting your strength back yet before we rescue Neville."
Luna steadied herself. She gazed dreamily at the fat guard lying on the slab before her. "He might almost be sleeping..."
Harry grinned at Hermione and whispered, "She's becoming more her old self, now."
Hermione wasn't so sure, and wondered if anyone was ever quite the same after such severe emotional trauma. Hesitantly, she dipped the tip of her wand into the vial that contained Luna's experience.
"Rennervate!" Luna tucked her wand back behind her ear.
"Wha...?" The man blinked and levered himself up on one elbow. He glared. "How'd YOU get out!" With a swing of his legs he was sitting on the edge of the stone block, staring around, and groping for wand or weapon. "Where is this?" His eyes fell upon his lost wand, snapped upon the slabs beneath his feet.
Before he could react, Hermione flicked her own. The tendril of memory entered the guard's forehead like a silent, silvery arrow. His mouth fell open and he slipped off the large slab down onto the cold, cold floor, hands to his temples, astonishment showing in his eyes.
They watched without emotion.
"Noooo..." Tashew's moan tailed off into a whimper and he curled up into a ball on the floor, hugging himself. "Stop, please stop..."
"He's you now, Luna," murmured Hermione, "suffering as you did, feeling what you felt: vulnerability, fear..."
A whole minute passed. Luna was the first to speak. "This is not right. I don't want anyone to hurt like this."
Hermione frowned, then nodded. "Let it so be." Stooping down, she drew the memory out and placed it back in her vial. Tashew's moans faded away but he continued to weep.
"Can't you make it stop?" whispered Luna.
"He'll have to get over it the hard way, like you did – but with the extra intensity of remorse and shame weighing him down."
She took out another vial and touched it to the man's quivering lips. "Living Death," she informed the others. "He'll be tried for his crimes another day."
As she hovered his limp form back onto the stone block, the man's shirt rode up revealing severe bruises on his back and arms. "Stigmata," explained Hermione. "A sympathetic response by the body to the suffering of others." Her attempts at healing failed. "Perhaps, in time, the marks will fade..."
Straightening up, Hermione surveyed her two friends. "Ready?"
They nodded eagerly.
"Then we fly..."
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Emergency Session
OUTRAGE! screamed the Evening Prophet's headline. Barty Crouch cast a silencing spell to quieten the flashing banner then looked to the other members present at the emergency meeting of Cathesis. "Question is, what do we do?"
"What more CAN we do?" growled Sirius.
Crouch spread his arms in a gesture of surprise. "The Longbottoms, Lovegoods, and many other magical families are up in arms calling for Fudge's resignation." With the back of his hand he slapped the newspaper that lay on the round table. "Ray Sharpe has really made the administration look bad. Runcorn had no idea there could be a witness to what took place in that courtroom. Legal experts are disputing the trial's validity, and Wizengamot members are questioning the rightness of it and demanding a pardon. There's talk that Runcorn himself might be arrested and Fudge deposed."
"I was referring to the missing children!"
"How dare you imply that–"
"–Gentlemen, please," cried Jop Gair, "let's not fight amongst ourselves. Barty, you and I will navigate the currents at the Ministry and decide if now is the time to strike. Sirius, Hestia, will you coordinate with the Longbottoms and Lovegoods to find out anything you can about the children. After all, your Harry is one of the lost."
"He is not LOST!" cried Hestia, refusing to accept her own doubts and fears. "He's... – Oh, Sirius! WHY did you send him off? He's not even got a wand!"
"I trusted Hermione. I STILL trust Hermione."
"As do we all." Madam Zabini had risen to her feet. "That girl has powers you can only dream of! Momentous events occur in her presence. If Harry is with Hermione Granger then rest assured, he is in safe hands, wand or no."
"I CANNOT rest!" cried Sirius, "Come on, Hestia, let's Floo around the other parents to see if they've heard anything we don't know already. Together we might come up with a REAL plan!"
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Taking Charge
If Madam Zabini could have penetrated the night, her confidence in Hermione might have been shaken. Exhausted by yet another long Apparition accompanied by immateriality, Hermione squatted in an exhausted state on the perimeters of Malfoy Manor, too weak to even look up. "What ... see?" she gasped.
Squeezing up to one of the small gaps in the high hedged railing beside the gate, Harry squinted through the Omnioculars retrieved from the beaded bag.
"Well?" She persisted.
"Nothing," Harry admitted glumly. "There is no ivory tower."
"It's almost the witching hour," said Luna, "please hurry."
"I'm doing the best I–"
"–Increase the darkness penetration lever," said Luna. "Look for a star."
"There's millions of stars, Luna!" Harry cried in exasperation as he felt Luna fiddling with the controls. He slapped her hand away.
"Look above the manor, Harry. See? Over there, where there is no tower."
"What's the point of that! We–"
"–Three towers we see, but one we do not."
Harry frowned. "There is a... there is a tiny light in the sky!" He lowered the Omnioculars. "You think it's that air grill we saw?"
"Where, Harry?" Hermione struggled to her feet.
"Rest a bit more, Hermione," Harry said anxiously.
"We can't rest, Harry. Midnight approaches."
Hermione had already given their covert intrusion some thought. "One chance," she said. "I cannot penetrate the wards without causing a major disturbance, but the manor is vast. I doubt magical protection extends completely under the whole area like Nott's little house."
"Hermione, you're not ready yet!"
"We have to go now. It's all or nothing if we wish to save Neville's... affiliation. You take charge, Harry; I can only be the tired old packhorse."
For almost a minute, Harry struggled with himself and protested to both girls who by now were looking seriously worried. Finally, he relented. He and Luna grasped Hermione. The direction was clear. They dived into the ground just outside the manor's tall, hedged walls.
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The Ivory Tower
It was the strangest journey Harry had ever undertaken, even counting Apparition and being vanished into non-being: soil and stones, clay and bedrock, all flowed by as a dark avalanche until at last they clipped the deepest foundations of the estate. Luna was using the Point Me spell aligned to the location of the light given by the Omnioculars. When her wand finally tilted completely vertical, they began their cautious ascent.
Many minutes had passed. Hermione collapsed inside the first breathable space they found, though it was entirely black and very narrow:
"I think we're inside a cavity wall!" whispered Harry, jammed between the two girls like an embarrassed sardine. He spat out what might have been a twig or a dead earwig and twisted his attention to Luna for guidance.
The numbers displayed on the Omnioculars were their only illumination. "We should travel a little further that way before we go higher, don't you think?" she said hesitantly, her face glowing an eerie purple with mirrored digits flowing across her cheeks.
Unable to speak, Hermione squeezed Harry's hand to signify she was ready. He took a deep breath. "Right, one last push," he sighed, then they were gone.
Through chambers and walls alike they ascended invisibly until, finding themselves half inside a stout wooden door, and Hermione utterly exhausted, Luna tugged on her sleeve the last few horizontal paces she should move them.
"Neville!" Luna rushed to her boyfriend and tried to seize him in her arms.
He took a step back. "I say, have you come to join us? You can't. Only special people like myself are allowed in."
Harry gaped at his friend. Neville was adorned in splendid black and green dress robes and the thin coronet was still neatly in place despite Luna's collision with him. Turning to Hermione, Harry said, "He's worse than we... Hermione?"
She was doubled up on the floor against the side of the doorframe, her magic gone. She waved him off when he knelt down beside her, and tried to signal him to take hold of Neville somehow before he shouted for help.
He dashed back to the other side of the room. "Neville, we have to–"
"No, Harry, you don't understand!" Neville pushed haughtily away from him. "I'm about to be inaugurated in splendour!"
"–Nnn... don' ... reason ... with..." gasped Hermione, waving frantically.
"Silencio!" Luna's spell didn't stop Neville's celebratory gestures but his lips moved soundlessly.
"Should we use a body-bind, you reckon?" said Harry. He took out his junior wand and held it up.
"Well, well, well, has 'ickle baby brought his itty bitty toy to come play with me?"
Harry dropped and whirled but, with a flash of yellow, his rapid curse was deflected into the wall by a shield charm. Squinting with dazzled eyes, he discerned a woman silhouetted in the now open doorway with one arm around the neck of a smaller, slumped figure: Hermione!
"Drop your wands!" screeched the woman.
Blinking rapidly, Harry detected a glitter of light at Hermione's throat: a knife!
"Drop them, or we'll see exactly how muddy her blood is!"
Harry hissed his fury – "Avada–" – the woman laughed – there was a flash of green – the woman's look turned to one of incredulity – she still wore that expression as she hit the floor – blood was seeping from Hermione's neck – Harry was desperately pressing his fingers over the open wound, trying to staunch the flow.
"Vulnera Sanentur!" – his junior wand slipped from his bloody fingers. "Luna! Luna!" He turned.
But Luna was frozen with shock, wand still thrust forward from where she had cast the fatal curse.
Frantic now, Harry fumbled Hermione's wand from her hand – "Vulnera Sanentur!" Only now – now as the awful gash healed over – could Harry seem to breathe again. "Be ready for when you recover," he whispered, as he forced the wand back between Hermione's fingers. "You'll be alright, Hermione, I know you will."
Another dread realisation was taking shape in his mind. Still supporting Hermione on the floor, he turned his gaze back towards the stricken blonde girl.
"It was you, Luna? You killed–?"
Before he could finish, the silent Neville had launched himself at Luna, struggling to overpower her, his hand stretching to take her wand. She slapped his face. Hard. His expression changed quite comically, and he released Luna to thrust a hand into his own pocket. In different circumstance, Harry would have laughed out loud. Here, he cast a jelly-legs jinx, Luna instinctively pushed and tripped Neville over, automatically taking his wand as well. She held it up and frowned at it, wondering how it came to be there. She looked back and forth between her own wand and Neville's in her other hand with a puzzled expression on her face, then placed them both together.
Seeing Neville dumb, wandless, and wriggling on the floor, Harry dismissed him from thought and went to comfort Luna.
"I killed someone," said Luna, looking at the two wand tips with dismal lament.
"What has Hermione TAUGHT us, Luna!" admonished Harry, in the manner he had often conducted their rigorous training sessions so they would act and not waste time thinking.
"I SAVED someone... four of us," Luna corrected herself, as if recalling to thought what she'd learnt by endless repetition, "and hundreds to come, I think."
"And...?" persisted Harry.
"Do not talk – Act! Never try to save a dead hostage."
"'Dead' meaning?"
"In the hands of the most evil. Certain to die anyway," intoned Luna without emotion yet her Ravenclaw mind accepting it as the inevitable truth.
"And...?"
"Only an Unforgivable can be relied on to penetrate a shield charm."
"Exactly. You did everything right, Luna. You did exactly what I was trying to do with my junior wand." He kissed her. "Thank you, Luna. You saved my life. And Hermione's. And Neville's, as well as your own."
Distantly, a bell had begun to toll midnight. At the sound, Neville attempted to struggle to his feet but succeeded only in pulling over a tableful of food with a crash. Annoyed at the loss, he clicked his fingers. The smartly-dressed elf appeared again, begging and grovelling to be allowed by Neville to clear up the mess – Neville need only send him to alert the house! Someone was already shouting up the stairs: "What's keeping you, Bella?" Harry ran to close the door; perhaps he could lock it, buy some time. He kicked over something in the doorway which clanged noisily down the stair, spilling dark wine on several steps – it might have been a chalice. The woman must have left it there.
The side of the dead woman's shoulder and head were blocking the doorway – he grabbed an arm to drag her further in – she rolled over – her face, lifeless eyes still wide with astonishment, was familiar... 'Bella'...? 'Bella' someone had called her...? Realisation as to who she must be shocked him to action:
"COLLOPORTUS MAXIMA!" A trickle of sparks flew from his little wand, and he glared at it. "COLLOPORTUS MAXIMA!" He shook the wand irritably. "COLLOPORTUS!"
The lock on the door clicked reluctantly shut. "Hermione, we must go!"
But his loved one could not rise despite his assistance. Her eyes showed only panic. There was a shake of the head. She tried to say something. Her senses were focused on too many problems to solve, and it was hard to see through the darkness: Neville writhing and furious – Luna still somewhat dazed and unreliable – the commotion stampeding up the stairwell – the enemy's elf angrily trying to seize back from Luna both Neville's wand and her own still held together – the conflict accidentally triggering scores of sparkling spells up to the ceiling.
There was a pounding on the door. The flash of curses could be seen shining through the gaps. The stout wooden door began to creak and splinter under the impacts. One of the great iron hinges sprang its rivets. The door tilted weakly at an angle. One more thrust...
RADIANCE! The chamber blazed with the light of many curses searing the air. A pure white sizzling beam struck Luna like a laser severing her head to toe. Her flesh was glistening ash collapsing as clumps around the remaining stump of one leg. A bright green flash illuminated both Neville and his elf as they died together.
"FOOL!" A tall dark figure entered midst a dazzling blue shield which Harry's junior killing curse failed to penetrate – there was a harsh gasp followed by, "Petrificus Totalus!" – before his groping fingers could reach Hermione's wand, Harry had tumbled paralysed onto the legs of his magically-drained girlfriend beside the doorway.
"No matter!"
"But–!"
"I said no matter, Lucius!" cried the woman. "Can't you see? We have Harry Black!"
As the statuesque figure turned into view, Hermione had one glimpse of velvet black robes, long hair that streamed like silvery snakes in clear flowing water, eyes hard as diamonds that pierced and blinded her forever.
"Burn the Mudblood slowly, Lucretia," drawled Lucius. "Not like the oddity. Do it really slow."
Helpless and terrified, Hermione felt the agony screaming on her flesh, but inwardly she saw only the earlier green flash and what had been revealed in its glow. FAILURE! Bitterly she regretted the decision to bring her friends directly into the camp of the enemy. Neville dead – Luna too – just Harry alive but paralysed, his eyelashes flickering against her left ankle to tell her he was still conscious – the sound of Lucius moving close to watch her suffer and to pull Harry away from her final contact with him. And then... then she knew how...
Remorse. It might kill the last trace of her magic, might even kill her, but she allowed it to fill her heart. It was easy. Never had she rued her actions more. Never had she felt so guilty. Time swallowed her backwards... backwards...
"COLLOPORTUS MAXIMA!" A trickle of sparks flew from Harry's little wand, and he glared at it before looking around, confused. "What just happened, Hermione? How did you do that?" The far-off bell was striking twelve once more. He was standing again before the door. Neville was wriggling on the floor. Luna was gazing up at the chandelier.
"Uuhhh..." Hermione managed to frown-force-breathe, and allowed her wand to slip with a clatter.
Reflexes high with adrenaline, Harry seized it automatically.
"COLLOPORTUS MAXIMA!" Many hidden bolts slid across the door with loud clacks and thuds. "It still won't hold long! Hermione, we can't escape!"
His loved one could not rise despite his assistance. Yet her eyes showed new hope. There was a shake of the head. She tried to say something. Choking for more air, she could only gesture wildly and point; her jabbing finger was aimed directly towards...
"Get Luna's wand back from the elf?" blustered Harry, struggling to comprehend. "For me? Or Luna?" He bounded towards the little creature.
"Harry Potter!" said the elf, in a high-pitched voice Harry was sure would carry down the stairs. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir ... Such an honour it is..."
Harry stared at Hermione, then back at the elf, then back at Hermione again. She was mouthing words and gesturing: "friend ... ask ... Disapparate."
Harry swung around. "Erm... sorry to trouble you and all that but–"
"–Sorry? The great Harry Potter is apologising to poor Dobby!"
There was a pounding on the door. The flash of curses could be seen shining through the gaps.
"Uumm... I don't want to be rude or anything, but do you think you could perhaps..." Harry struggled to think how to word his request. "Uuh, help us to get to... erm..."
The stout wooden door began to creak and splinter under the impacts. One of the great iron hinges sprang its rivets, the door tilted weakly at an angle. One more thrust...
Hermione whispered something with her last gasp that Harry couldn't quite hear – but the bat-like ears of an elf might!
"What she said! Can you possibly get ALL of us there?"
"Of course, sir, I'm an elf."
The door exploded inwards.
.
The Dead Relative
Alice Longbottom shrieked and almost fell over as she leapt up from the living-room sofa at the sound of the Kitchen Floo. The wards only allowed family and friends through without explicit permission and any caller this late at night could only be bringing dreadful news else... "Neville!" she sobbed, running towards the open doorway.
Her husband intercepted her and drew her into a hug. "Alice, Alice, darling. It can't be, can it? He's in...?"
"Azkaban, I know." Mrs Longbottom burst into tears and buried her face in his shoulder. "I can't bear it, Frank. I just can't. The thought of those Dementors tormenting our little boy." Her chest shook and shuddered with unbearable anguish, pausing only to peep out at the sound of approaching footsteps.
Frank turned to see too. "Look, it's Sirius and Hestia come to visit us, see?" He was croaking softly – perhaps the anguished man had also held foolish hopes of a pardon for his son. "Oh, they've brought Anne and Edward with them."
Alice flung herself at Anne, weeping incoherently, but somehow giving the impression she ought to be comforting her guest. Mrs Granger glanced at her husband. It was not long since she'd heard the news, and Hermione was often away for hours and even days at a time so she'd not even been particularly anxious so far, considering Hermione's decades of experience and ability. But seeing someone as strong as Alice break down was unnerving her. What was happening with Hermione? Could she possibly be in real danger?
"You know the Lovegoods, of course," Frank was saying with off-key politeness.
Edward nodded. He ached to say something reassuring like "If anyone can help your Luna it's our Hermione because she's a super powerful, invulnerable witch from the future," but he held his tongue and mumbled some nonsense about not worrying and keeping spirits up.
Madam Longbottom asked an elf to bring in more refreshments then dabbed the sore eyes of her daughter-in-law with a soothing potion. "We have to be strong, Alice. Be strong for Neville once he's released."
The group sat around, heads drooping in a melancholy silence for a while until finally Edward could bear their torments no longer. "Our daughter..." Everyone looked up at him. "Hermione is amazing. I'm not just saying that as a proud father. I want to tell you that–"
"–Edward..." murmured Anne. There was caution in her tone.
"–I want to tell you that I am certain, I repeat, certain, that Hermione will contact us in a reasonably short while and be able to advise how... that is... will bring something to ... news and..."
"Edward," said Pandora, "you're a Muggle. You don't understand. You can't understand. Azkaban is... is not... there's..."
Xenophilius took her hand and patted it. "Go on, dear."
Pandora took a deep breath to compose herself, but released it as a shriek of incredulity. Others cried out too. A loud POP had interrupted the anxious mother, and, quite without warning, tumbling into their midst, falling about on the central carpet, were the missing children accompanied by an unknown house-elf and... something more.
"NEVILLE!" The torso of Mrs Longbottom seemed to be almost shaking apart with emotion. Terror and doubt came into her eyes and she turned to Frank. "It is him, isn't it? I'm not...?" She didn't wait for confirmation of her sanity but leapt across to embrace her son. Everyone was on their feet shouting and yelling.
"WAIT, EVERYONE!" commanded Harry.
His junior wand was at his throat, amplifying his voice. "Neville has been Confunded or something, Luna is in shock, Hermione is magically drained and needs rest." He looked swiftly at each of the faces of those assembled around him. "AND" – he added, raising his voice above the renewed tumult – "do NOT forget that Luna and Neville are here illegally before you do anything stup–"
–A barrage of questions had drowned him out:
"How is this possible?" – "What have you done, Harry!" – " WHO DID THIS!" – "How did you get this elf past our wards without permission?" – "AND WHAT, BY THUNDER, IS THAT FILTH DOING ON MY LIVING-ROOM CARPET!"
The last shout was from Madam Longbottom, and everyone paused to stare at where she was pointing. The body of a woman lay there. She was unmarked but quite still.
"Dobby!" cried Harry. "When I said bring ALL of us, I didn't mean..."
"Merlin's Bones!" cried Sirius, who was the first to stoop down to examine the face of the woman, the knife still gripped in her hand, and the wand that remained up her sleeve, unused. Recognition of his cousin had been immediate, but he did not speak her name. "She's..."
"Dead – yeah, I know, Dad," said Harry. "Bellatrix Black is dead."
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—oOo—
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Author's Notes
Bellatrix dead after such a brief appearance? Yes, she's really dead. But clearly there are other villains who can be made to die more painfully slowly... (hehe!) I like rapid, believable fights. Too many Potter fics have long, drawn-out, chatty insult scenes which, when you read carefully, appear to have most characters standing around watching and doing nothing. (Like how all the bad guys stand back and take turns to fight the movie hero instead of all attacking at once.) This 'chatty' thing stems from the original books. However, there was good reason for Lucius not to risk damaging the Prophecy in OoP, and for Voldemort to listen to Harry as they circled at the end of DH. He was uncertain, wanted to hear what Harry was telling him. Most fights imo should be very rapid with the action (or each sub-action in a running battle) compacted into seconds with little or no talk. And if you don't believe me, remember how Sirius died in the original: chatting.
It's getting harder to remember every detail of this story. I have lists of Cathesis members, CREST members (but lost track now,) which people know Aculus, and so on, but my notes are nowhere near as copious as Jo Rowling's. Who knows what secrets? Did Harry already know Hermione's déjà vu ability to slip back a few minutes in time during intense remorse? I searched. I'm fairly sure not because you have to be in physical contact with her to experience it. Neville did (after the 'kiss the painting' scene) but not Harry. I'm not even certain Harry needed to know now but I liked the eyelash tickling contact thing that enabled it! Anyway, let me know if you notice any continuity errors in the story and I'll try to bodge them over.
I recall one reviewer considering Hermione a Mary Sue. I don't believe so. The definition of Mary Sue is very fuzzy grey. Superman had his kryptonite, and Hermione has her magic exhausted after both déjà vu and immateriality. She can't maintain that for long. Superman was often an angsty wimp moping over Lois Lane; Hermione has her own childish emotions to deal with. Nor is knowing she can déjà vu out of every serious character death a spoiler because, let's face it, everyone knows Hermione's not going to die in a story called 'The All New Adventures Of Hermione Granger...'
'Not saving a dead hostage' doesn't imply there are never situations in the real world where negotiating is the best course. But without 'Human rights' or a Geneva Convention, it's seems foolish when one armed group surrenders to another utterly evil armed group to be almost certainly tortured and killed anyway. (I hate movies where the hero does that!)
A 'cavity wall' is two walls with a tiny gap between to prevent damp passing through. I doubt any were ever wide enough for a person but trust me, magical mansions are different!
There is no canon for 'Colloportus Maxima'; assume that Hermione created it for my fic and taught her followers. It's a more powerful form of the locking charm.
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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