Disclaimer: No I am not JK and no I do not own Harry Potter…
**********
Harry Potter raced frantically through a dark underground
corridor. He clenched his wand in his right fist; it bobbed up and down with
his stumbling gait, a feeble glow that was the only source of light in the
twisting maze. His left arm was extended, and his groping fingertips grazed the
damp granite wall as he swung around the corner. Despite his haste, Harry felt
strangely detached from his present situation; he felt a great sense of
urgency, but his mind was too foggy to recall exactly what he sought so
eagerly.
Suddenly the path he was falling led him out into an open
chamber. Torches formed a ring around the room, casting long, eerie shadows
along the walls. Harry stopped short, and stepped cautiously into the hall, his
footsteps echoing ominously in the quiet. He could discern the rise and fall of
conversing voices and as he peered into the room, and then Harry saw their
owners…
A man was down on his knees, before an imposing figure,
cloaked in darkness, and whose back was turned towards him. The prostrate
minion was whimpering obsequiously like a beaten animal. His round red face was
twisted with fear, his tiny brown eyes gaped up at his master imploringly, and
his short arms where outstretched, pleading for mercy. His right arm gleamed in
the torchlight, the silver metal of the forearm fitted seamlessly to his pale
flesh…
"Get up, Wormtail, you little rat." The voice of shadowy
was individual was high and chill.
But Voldemort stared straight through Harry, unable to
see him. He turned back to Wormtail. "Your master is not pleased Wormtail," the
soft voice hissed. "Not pleased at all. I had hoped for more. I had hoped that
you would be done with your task by now."
"Please master," Wormtail whimpered. "Please…" He
gestured wildly to the corner of the room. "I did bring master something!"
Harry's gaze shifted to where Wormtail had pointed, and felt his stomach drop
down to his knees. For an instant he felt as if all was lost…Voldemort had
Veronica in his clutches. Except, Harry realized as he looked at the prisoner,
she was much too old to be Veronica…Harry's eyes widened in confusion. The
woman who lay unconscious and chained to the wall had the same full red lips,
and striking features; nevertheless she was definitely a different person. Her
hair was cropped short; it fell barely past her chin whereas Veronica's long
dark hair fell well past her shoulders, and her eyebrows and lips were lined
with faint traces of wrinkles and creases. But the resemblance was
striking…Harry stood transfixed.
"Yes," Voldemort's voice was slow and icy. "Wormtail did
bring his master this small token…but it is hardly enough. Master will have to
teach Wormtail a lesson so that next time he will accomplish his mission…"
Wormtail face contorted frightfully, and he flung himself at his master's feet,
pleading with him fervently. But the Lord Voldemort was not merciful to those
that failed him.
"Crucio," He hissed, his snake-like forked tongue
whipping out of his mouth. Sparks flew from the wand, and Wormtail began to
scream. It was not the cry of an injured human being; it was the high savage
shriek of a wounded animal. At the same instant, Harry's scar seemed to explode
with stinging pain. The intensity of it stabbed Harry like a knife, it seared
through his forehead with violent fury. It was sheer agony; smarting tears
welled up in Harry's eyes as he sank to the floor, writhing in anguish, and
clutching at his scar…wishing desperately that he could rent the skin from his
head. Red miasma swam before his eyes…he could faintly hear Voldemort's voice
echo through the cave.
"You will bring me her next time Wormtail! Or you will
feel pain, my dear servant…more pain…"
**********
Harry sat bolt upright in his bed, his sheets wrapped around his waist and moist with sweat. It was peaceful in the predawn early morning; the boys dormitory was bathed in soft light, and all was silent except for Ron's even breathing. But Harry's scar throbbed with a pain that was horrifying real. Throwing open the curtain that surrounded his four-poster bed, Harry swung his legs over the side of his mattress, and leapt down onto the carpeted floor. Grabbing his horn-rimmed glasses, he flung on a shirt, a pair of jeans, and his Hogwarts robes and cloak. He marched across the room, and flung open the curtains around Ron's bed.
"Ron?" Harry shook his best friend, his face drawn with urgency. Mumbling sleepily Ron rolled over. "Ron?" Harry's voice rose, as he gave Ron a firm jab with his forefinger. Ron jumped up shocked out of his sleep, to stare up at Harry, irritated.
"Bugger, Harry! What is it?" Ron groaned.
"I had a dream, Ron," Harry said seriously, his green eyes peering concernedly out from behind his glasses.
"So what else is new?" Ron asked grumpily. He had been up with Harry well after midnight playing exploding snap in the Gryffindor common room. And Ron wasn't exactly a morning person to begin with. "It's about four o'clock in the morning…can't it wait?"
"No." Harry stated his simple answer with such gravity that Ron had to sit up and listen. Sighing, he rubbed his eyes, and stretched. "Wha-wha-what is it then?" he yawned.
"Voldemort was in it," Harry began.
Ron shuddered. "Must you always say his name Harry? Is it really necessary?"
Harry ignored Ron and continued. "It was about Veronica…there was this woman in it. I think it was Veronica as she would be twenty years in the future…I don't know, it was all very queer. But we have to go, Ron. Now. I know Voldemort is going to capture her very soon."
"Do we have to go right now, Harry?" Ron gazed out blearily, sleepy blue eyes narrowed slits. "I mean we were planning on going tomorrow, weren't we?"
"No, Ron. Now." Harry looked so determined that Ron didn't have the heart to protest anymore. Sighing he stumbled out of bed, and threw on a Chudley Cannon's T-shirt, the bright orange clashing horribly with his red hair. He threw his dark robes and cloak over it all. "Hermione isn't going to be to thrilled when we wake her," he said shrugging, he followed Harry down the stairs, into the Gryffindor common room.
Hermione was indeed less than thrilled to be roused so early, but like Ron she knew her best friend too well to doubt him when he had intuitive premonitions. Being a practical girl, she also realized that Harry could sense the urgency of the situation better than she or Ron ever could. So the trio, well hidden under Harry's invisibility cloak, trudged through the Hogwarts hallways about ten minutes later. By the time they had gone through the underground tunnel and come out by Honeydukes' it was nearly dawn. Harry and Ron worried a bit about how to unlock the door without setting off the alarm to the store, but Hermione had wisely reminded them that under the invisibility cloak no one would see them. They stealthily unlocked the door, and closed it behind them with no hint of their presence.
The early morning air was crisp, and the village streets silent. The three of them stole quickly through the sleepy town, their boots crunching through the fresh powdery snow. When they were well outside of the town they halted. Hidden amidst a small grove of evergreen trees in the hills above Hogsmeade, they felt fairly confident that no prying, inquisitive eyes could see them. Taking off the invisibility cloak, Harry rolled it up into a tiny ball and stuffed it into his pocket.
"Right," he said, taking off his glasses and resettling them on his nose. "So how exactly does one Apparate?" He looked expectantly at Ron.
"I still think this is a bad idea," Hermione muttered, smoothing out her brown hair, which was quite frizzy from sleep.
Ron glared at her. "Well it's the best one we got at the moment," he snapped moodily. Hermione just sighed and shook her head again.
"Just tell us how, Ron," Harry pressed, rubbing his temples.
"Well," Ron began throwing a sidelong glance at Hermione. "It's kind of like the Floo powder…you basically will yourself to travel somewhere. And then you say Aparecium and wherever it is you want to go. Like my father told me when we were practicing…its all about the focus." Ron suddenly became very grave. "Concentrate, concentrate, that's how you Apparate," he said solemnly nodding.
Hermione stifled a giggle at his corny slogan. "What?" Ron said in injured tones. "That's what my Dad always tells me."
"Is there a little jingle that goes along with it?" Harry said, trying to keep a straight face. "Or a cute little mascot advocating Apparition safety perhaps?" Hermione giggled louder.
"Oh fine," Ron said, crossing his arms, a hurt look on his freckled face.
"Oh don't be such a git, Ron," Harry grinned. "Just jerking your chain that's all." He rubbed his hands together, an excited gleam in his eyes. "So are we going to do this?"
"Half a second, where exactly is this place that we're aiming for again?" Ron asked.
"Oh honestly Ron," Hermione groaned. "Don't you ever remember anything?"
"Oh honestly Hermione," Ron shot back, doing an excellent impression of Hermione's bossy reprimand. "Don't you ever quit being an insufferable know-it-all?"
"I am not being a know-it-all," Hermione scoffed, with a defiant toss of her hair. "One would expect you to know where we are going…especially since you suggested this whole impossible scheme."
"Oh come off of it you two," Harry sighed, stepping in as moderator. "We really don't need to start bickering right now…getting into a jolly row isn't the best way to remain inconspicuous."
"We're going to Ventura by the way," Hermione added. "Like I said last night."
Ron ignored the last bit of her sentence. "Bentura?"
"No Ron! VEN-tura. With a V. As in Victor. As in the medium sized costal city in California."
"Thank you ever so much, Hermione." Ron rolled his eyes. He tried to overlook the fact that she managed to throw Victor Krum into that last remark.
"Are you quite done?" Harry asked brightly. "Because I was thinking that it would be smashing if we could leave before the next century."
Hermione and Ron looked at their best friend guiltily. "Sure, Harry we're ready," Ron said sheepishly. Hermione nodded, biting her lower lip.
"Right then." Harry pushed his glasses up his nose, his wiry frame tensed for action. His heart beat wildly; and his palms sweated nervously. He tried not to think about what it would be like to get splinched. "On the count of three. One…two…THREE!"
"Aprecium Ventura!" Harry cried out. He heard Hermione and Ron yell out the spell at the same instant. Harry shut his eyes as he spoke, concentrating with all of his might on his intended destination. He felt a strange sensation; it was as his a huge iron hook had attached itself to his navel, and jerked him forward. He felt like he had been pulled inside out. He was hurtling forward through space at an incredibly fast speed; the wind rushed by him and whirred through his ears. Then a split second later he was jolted back into normal three-dimensional space. Harry caught his breath, and blinked a couple of times.
He was standing on a sandy beach. In front of him the waves crashed against the shore, shooting out spray, and then drew back, leaving bubbly white foam in their wake. The sea air was fresh, with a salty tang. Despite the fact that it was it was nearly Christmas, it was warm and mild without any trace of ice or snow. Harry felt hot and uncomfortable in his heavy Hogwarts cloak. The sky was a clear, a dazzling blue flushed crimson at the horizon, foretelling the imminent sunset. The sun shone brightly out from the west, nearing the end of its path across the sky. Harry realized suddenly that due to the time difference it was already late afternoon on the west coast of the United States. He turned towards Hermione, his raven-black hair whipping around wildly in the ocean breeze.
"Harry, you have got to get Veronica to invite us here for the summer!" Hermione exclaimed. She was shading her eyes, and staring out into the blue of the ocean. "It is simply gorgeous here! I mean…" Hermione trailed off, turning her focus back to the task at hand. "We've got to find her first."
"Yes we do." Harry kicked up some sand with his sneakers as he turned around. "Ron we better…" Harry trailed off as his green eyes widened in alarm. Ron, whom he had assumed was by his side, was simply not there.
"Oh, Harry," Hermione was scanning the beach with her eyes, the anxiety rising in her voice. "Where is Ron?"
*******
Ronald Weasley was hit almost immediately by the dreadful truth; he was completely and utterly alone.
He stood, a solitary, forlorn figure in the midst of a vast and desolate desert. Ron shaded his eyes, staring out into the mountains that lined the distant horizon. Prickly Joshua trees were scattered across the landscape, and little brown hares scurried furtively from their underground burrows. A strong gust of wind blew past, kicking up dust and pebbles, and picking up lone tumbleweed. Ron shivered as it bumped along, airborne right past him. It was quite cold. He thought he could hear the haunting howl of a coyote.
Ron cursed to himself under his breath. What was he going to do? He obviously had not concentrated hard enough when he Apparated…a mistake he had made all too often when he practiced with his Dad over the summer. Of course then, he had been fairly safe; his Dad could rescue him from any scrape that he managed to get himself into. With this predicament it was different…he was hopelessly far away from any conceivable assistance.
I can't even remember what the bloody city is, Ron reflected regretfully, wishing he had paid closer attention to where Veronica lived. But he had been too intent on trying to one up Hermione in their perpetual bickering match; his mind was obviously too distracted by her to do anything properly. It's all her fault, he thought shaking his head.
Ron sighed. He couldn't try to Apparate again…Merlin only knows where he would end up if he tried that! So he did the only sensible thing that came to his mind; he began to walk. He ambled across the rugged terrain, without any particular destination, and just wanting to do something productive to keep himself from panicking completely. Off to the east, he could hear the occasional roar of a passing car or truck. He decided to head it that general direction. By now the sun had sunk behind the hills, and the land was plunged into dim twilight.
Suddenly Ron heard voices. Their appearance was so abrupt that he was almost certain their owners had Apparated. Ron nearly cried out with jubilant relief…he was saved! But as the group of people came into his view, Ron nearly froze. Their dark hooded cloaks, passed by like dark shadows in the night…they were Death Eaters. Ron's reaction was swift; he dove behind a low shrub without hesitation. Lying on his belly, and a stone's throw away from Voldemort's closest supporters, Ron scarcely dared to breathe…
"Are we all here?" inquired a thin, imperious voice. Malfoy, Ron thought, balling up his fists in anger. Oh if only they would put him in Azkaban…
"Yes," the whole group responded in unison, a sonorous chant that rumbled, echoing through the silence.
"Good," Lucius Malfoy tapped his wand impatiently against his palm. "Then as soon as Wormtail gets here, with that which he should have…we shall leave for our destination."
"What will he bring, Lucius," asked one of the novice Death Eaters, as he straightened out his cloak,
"Her, of course," Lucius responded curtly. His lips twisted up into a wry smirk. "Master was not pleased with Wormtail last time…when he brought only the other. Wormtail will have her this time…one does not disobey Master more than once." Lucius shuddered along with the rest of his comrades.
Suddenly there was a faint pop that sounded loudly in the quiet. Wormtail stood in the center of the ring…Ron could never look at him without being reminded of his pet rat; there was definitely something rodent-like about his cowardly presence. Slung over his shoulders, like a dead sack of potatoes, was Veronica. Ron marveled how altered her appearance was; she had always seemed so strong and vital, practically brimming over with vivacity and almost defiant energy. But now…her face was as pale as death, and her dark brown hair fell limply across her face. Her now colorless lips were slightly ajar, and she seemed to be gasping for breath. Ron blanched at the ugly gash in her forehead where Wormtail had struck her; it was still sticky with fresh blood. He was rather glad that Harry didn't have to see her like this. Ron was still debating what the best course of action would be when Wormtail spoke up.
"Well I've got her." He had the excessively contemptuous air of a small man trying to seem big and important. He looked as if he expected a rousing round of applause.
"And it looked as if it were a bit of a challenge for you, eh?" cut in Lucius, annoyed by Wormtail's imperious attitude. He eyes looked his fellow Death Eater up and down, taking in both of his black eyes, and the bluish bruises on his cheeks. "Seems like…this girl…gave you a bit of a thrashing."
"You fool," Wormtail hissed. "She is not ordinary girl. She is the one," he nodded cryptically. "The one who can give master back what was taken from him."
"Oh get off of your high-horse, rat face," Mancair growled moodily from besides Lucius. "Isn't she just aiding our final stage of negotiations with the giants? Something about them joining us in exchange for her? Although only Salazar knows what those stupid lunkheads would want with her anyway…"
Wormtail shook his head disdainfully. "So little is known to you, my friend," he remarked coldly. "Yes, she will help us with the giants…but that is only the tip of her uses. Master did choose our hideout amongst the giants for that reason it is true…but oh what we have planned for her! With her Master will regain the power he had of old…but more than that; he will be a thousand times stronger with his newfound invincibility and entire army of supporters standing behind his flag!" Wormtail's face was upturned, and his eyes shone, imagining the glory of the Lord Voldemort…and of himself as one of his supporters. "She will bring us all of this…and yet you scorn her! Fools! You know not what you say."
"Ass." Lucius' retort was swift and scathing. "Master knows of your past treachery…you weak, sniveling rat. He shan't forget it, and neither shall I." Lucius eyes flashed warningly. "Now if the esteemed Wormtail is quite finished boasting of his unworthy deeds…we should leave." Wormtail flushed with rage, but said nothing. He stepped back into the ring with the others, muttering under his breath. Wordlessly, all of the Death Eaters held their wands aloft, and cried out in unison. There was a powerful popping noise that exploded like a shot, and then they were all gone without a trace. Ron exhaled, his heart thudding against his chest. He stood shakily. Frantic thoughts whirled through his mind…he needed to tell someone that they had Veronica…but how? He tapped his wand on his right palm anxiously, absorbed in an internal debate…
Suddenly there was a deafening BANG that echoed across the still desert night. Ron yelled out in surprise, and threw up an arm to shield his eyes from the blinding light. In front of him was an intense fuchsia triple-decker bus that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
Of course! Ron grinned a bit with relief. The Knight Bus. The twins had used it more than enough times to come home when they were out late…he must have flagged it without thinking. He didn't know that it was an international transportation chain however…
"What's up, man?" A young wizard leaned out of the door. He wore long Hawaiian print robes, and sandals. He was darkly tanned and had a wide grin. "I'm Seth, the conductor…we service the entire West Coast. How can we help you out?"
"Er…I haven't got any American money…"
"Ah, a Brit aren't you?" It was more of a statement than a question. "Well English money will do fine…we get a lot of foreigners, so we accept international currency. Ten sickles will take you anywhere on the continent."
"Er…half a moment..." Ron frowned, digging through the pockets of his tattered robes. His hand emerged a bit later…with a ball of string, a bit of lint…and exactly nine sickles. "Um…I've only got nine…"
Seth nodded, and gestured for Ron to give him the money. "That's all right man, hop aboard." Ron stepped onto the Knight Bus, his face flushed with embarrassment. He was usually reluctant to accept financial assistance from others, but the dire situation made him willing to put aside his pride for the moment. Seth gave Ron a toothy grin.
"You weren't trying for Las Vegas were you?"
"Uh…what's that?"
Seth looked surprised that he didn't know. "You know…the big muggle gambling place…with the casinos and slot machines…." He shook his head, rolling his eyes. "The DOM made it illegal for wizards to go there…you know, some use magic to cheat and win big bucks. Then they get the muggle money changed to wizard money. The Muggles were starting to notice…it was getting a tad obvious when a certain group of people kept on winning big. So they outlawed it. Anyone who tries to go there only gets about halfway and ends up in the middle of the Mojave desert…I swear that half of our business comes from people trying to beat the system."
"Well I certainly wasn't trying to go there…I really was lost," Ron insisted.
Seth shrugged. "Well suit yourself." Ron gave him a wan smile and took his seat.
"Where are you going?" the conductor asked.
"Uh…I can't really remember the name…"
"They never can," Seth winked.
"I was not trying to go to the gambling place," Ron insisted his voice rising in impatience. "Where I was headed started with a V…it was in Southern California…"
"Victorville?" Seth suggested. "Ventura…"
"Yeah that's it!" Ron cut him off excitedly. "Ventura."
"Alright then." Seth cupped his hands around his mouth. "Next stop Malibu!" he bellowed. There was an explosive BANG and the Knight Bus was off and running.
*********
Harry and Hermione trudged across the sandy beach worriedly. Nearly a half hour had passed and they still had seen no sign of their lanky redheaded friend.
"Oh Harry," Hermione said. Harry turned to look at his friend; her face was pale with worry. "He told me he wasn't too great at Apparating…he could be anywhere! And you know how bad he is at trying to pass as a muggle…"
"Well…" Harry's voice trailed off. He took off his glasses,
and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He twirled them around in his fingers.
"There really isn't much we can do…we can't very well look everywhere for him
at the moment. And we've got to look for Veronica as well…"
Hermione sighed heavily. "Well hopefully he'll try to Apparate home…"
"Or he will get picked up by the Knight Bus," Harry pointed out. "Look Hermione," he sighed. "I'm worried too…but there is no point in us being here if we don't try to get to Veronica before Voldemort does…"
"You're right." Hermione nodded, her lips set in a straight line. "We've got to find where she lives though."
Harry put his glasses back on and scanned the horizon. Since it was wintertime, only the most intrepid beach-goers were out and about. He spotted a group of surfers in wetsuits, their long boards pinned under their arms, walking over to a car in the parking lot. He gave Hermione one look, and then the two of the marched over to meet with them.
"Excuse me," Hermione spoke up, as they approached characteristically assertive. One of the surfers turned to peer down at her curiously. "I was wondering, do you attend Ventura High School."
"I do," his friend spoke up, patting his spiked blonde hair.
"Duuuuude…are you like English?" The first broke in, his eyes widening in amazement. "Those are some whacked out clothes you got on…" Hermione frowned, upset that she had not remembered to take off her robes beforehand.
"Er…" Harry wasn't sure how to respond to that. So he didn't. "Do you know a Veronica Silva, by any chance?"
"Yeah, dude…I know her." The guy with the spiked hair nodded.
"Dude, isn't she like that really smart chick?" The first asked.
"She is not a chick," Hermione broke in stuffily.
"Where does she live?" Harry asked. "Do you know I mean?"
"Yeah man, she lives like right by the school. Like go down to the street the front of the school is on, and like hang a right. Her house is like, on the corner, or something, I think."
"Thank you." Harry said.
"Hey yo, we can give you like a lift if you want," the first surfer suggested. Harry raised his eyebrows at Hermione, and she consented. They piled into the back of the car. Pulling out of the parking lot, the car sped down the street, loud alternative rock music blaring out from the stereo.
"So like…you're British or whatever, right?" The first surfer eyed Harry curiously through the rearview mirror.
"Yes we are," Harry answered.
"So you do you all like say, "pip pip, cheerio!" and drink tea and stuff?"
*****
Veronica Silva awoke with a throbbing pain in her forehead. Groaning, she tried to lift her hand up to rub it, but discovered that thick metal chains bound her limbs. She tried to sit up, and with a deep calming breath, dared to open her eyes.
She was in a dark dungeon, shackled to the wall. Through the bars of the cage, she could see into the dimly lit hallway, which flickered in the torchlight. Echoing off in the distance she could hear the rise and fall of conversing voices, and the tread of footfalls. It seemed like some people were approaching. Veronica heard a clanking of keys, and two tall men, in dark cloaks, their hoods drawn low so as to conceal their features, came into view. Rattling the ring of keys, one of the Death Eaters unlocked her cell, and then undid the lock that bound the chains she wore to the wall.
"Get up!" he demanded harshly. Veronica stood, her eyes flashing defiantly.
"Where are you taking me?" she demanded, hoping that she sounded braver than she felt.
"That is not your concern," the Death Eater responded shortly. Grabbing her roughly by the forearms, the two men dragged her down the hallway, and out into a dark passage way. Entering a spacious, open room, the Death Eaters dragged her into the center of the room and dumped her unceremoniously on to the stone floor. Veronica got up into a kneeling position with some difficulty, the chains clinking with her motion. She was on her knees in the center of a crowd of about thirty wizards, adorned in shadowy robes. The crowd parted, as their leader stepped in the midst of the ring…
Veronica gasped as she beheld Lord Voldemort. She fully understood now why few dared to speak his name above a hushed and hurried whisper. Like a snake, his gleaming reptilian eyes regarded Veronica, his forked tongue flicked out as he licked his lips. His flat slit-like nostrils quivered, his skin was paler than death, and his face was sunken in like a horrible skull. Veronica shuddered violently, and lowered her eyes. Like a deflated balloon, all of her courage seemed to have been siphoned from her will in one fell swoop.
"Yes." Voldemort's hissing voice was filled with triumph. He raised his wand. "Alohomora!" he cried. The locks on the shackles burst open, and the chains slid off of Veronica's body and onto the floor. "Come here." Voldemort demanded. Veronica stood slowly, but stayed where she was. "What do you want with me?" Her voice rang out in the silence, a hoarse squeak.
"The blood of an Armouri freely given!" a booming voice rumbled from the opposite wall. "That's what need from you—your blood."
Veronica whipped her head around, and her mouth fell open in awe. An enormous man was crouched in the doorway, his enormous bulk filling the expansive arched entryway. His squeezed through into the room, and marched over towards the crowd, his ponderous tread making the ground quake. He towered over them all…Hagrid would be dwarfed hopelessly in his presence…his auburn hair hung plaited from his chin and down his back…a massive double-bladed axe hung from his leather belt…and his legs were the size of tree trunks. Veronica looked up at the giant, an icy dread settling in the pit of her stomach. He was just so…large. She gulped, as he peered down at her; narrowing his dark glinting eyes.
"Ah Fingor," Voldemort said levelly. "We've been expecting you."
"We have a deal, Voldemort," the giant said flatly, crossing his massive arms across his chest. "We won't join you until we get our end of the bargain. We need the blood to free our breathen from Azkaban."
"Patience." Voldemort said. "All in good time."
"I like how everyone is so certain that I am going to give my blood—my blood, thank you very much—to all of you!" Veronica cried out aghast. She was quaking like a leaf. "Wha-what do you want it f-for anyway?"
Voldemort's thin lips twisted into an amused smirk. "Not the sharpest sword in the armory are we?" he hissed slowly. "It surprises me that you have not noticed yet, my thick child. You are an Armouri of course—magic cannot harm you. The protective power courses through your veins; it is mingled in your blood. And we plan to take that blood for our own uses."
"Well if magic can't harm me," Veronica was still bristling from the affront on her intelligence. "Then whose to say that I can't just escape? You couldn't stop me."
Voldemort cackled, a horrible shrill shriek. The carelessly his flicked his wand, muttering a charm. Two very familiar objects whizzed through the air, and hung in midair, hovering around Veronica's temples. Her heart stopped as the steel barrels of the guns grazed against her skin.
"I don't think that escape is an option my dear…one whisper and you will die," Voldemort said softly. "A rare instance in which a primitive muggle contraption proves to be useful. Now," Voldemort took a deep breath. Veronica stood stock still, barely daring to breath. "Now," Voldemort continued, his voice dropping to a low whisper. He would have made it sweeter if he could. "I can remove these…guns…from your head, if you would only agree to give us your blood…"
"No!" Veronica burst out, the vehement refusal exploding from her lips. "Never. And you can't kill me…I'm not stupid. The blood of an Armouri freely given…that would necessitate that I have to be alive, I'm guessing." She suddenly felt emboldened with her new logic.
What are you gonna do now, sucka! she thought triumphantly.
Fingor broke in angrily. "What good is she then!" he fumed enraged, making the walls shake. He stamped his booted foot angrily and the very earth trembled. "You won't double cross us, you balmy wizard!"
All of the Death Eaters began to cry out, protesting against the slight of hand directed against their master. But Voldemort remained silent, and seemed very much at ease. He raised a thin finger and all of the upset voices fell silent. With a flick of his wand the two pistols clatter to the floor. Veronica started taken aback by this unexpected action.
"Ah, it seems that you are not easily intimidated. Foolishly brave. And yet you are right…I cannot kill you—yet. But we have other means of…persuasion." His red eyes flashed. "I think it is time that we bring out our other prisoner," he said, a thin smirk twisting across his lips.
Wordlessly two Death Eaters marched out of the room. They came back a few moments later, dragging a limp, enchained figure into the room. The prisoner dropped to the floor, moaning wretchedly. Veronica took one look at the tormented prisoner, and shouted out, lurching forward frantically. The agonized hostage was her mother…Veronica was filled with stricken panic, and blinded by furious tears.
"NO!" she screamed. "You can't – YOU HAVE TO LET HER GO!" Two of Voldemort's servants clenched her arms and pinned her down forcefully, their grip like a vice. She struggled against them futilely, trying desperately to escape their clutches. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"
Voldemort leered at her sickeningly. "As I always say…love and loyalty are so easily manipulated."
"Please," Veronica whispered, choked with strangled sobs. "Let her go…"
"That is your decision." Voldemort's voice was like ice. "Give us the blood."
Veronica closed her eyes, as involuntary sobs escaped from her quaking body. What was she going to do? She couldn't give them her blood…she remembered how Malfoy hadn't been able to affect her at all with what Hermione told her was one of the deadliest of curses…if that huge giant got that kind of power, it was be horrifying. Veronica looked up at Voldemort with a shuddering sigh. She tried to open her mouth to speak, but her throat was swollen and incapable of speech. She just shook her head moving her lips soundlessly.
"Wormtail." Leering horribly, he stepped forward, proud that his master had chosen him for such an important task. His silver arm flashed violently as he raised his wand. "Crucio!" He cried out. Veronica watched in horror as her mother's features contorted with the intense searing pain. Her moans rose in pitch until they seemed more like the shrieking wails of a tormented beast. Veronica threw all of her weight forward wildly, the anguished cries of her mother pierced her heart like a sharp dagger; soon she was bellowing out along with her mother's screams.
"PLEASE!" she sobbed, pleading wildly. "STOP! STOP IT!"
"Then do you bequeath your blood to me?" Voldemort's hiss was sharp and menacing.
"I-I-I," Veronica felt the tears as they streamed down her cheeks. "I c-can't…no please…j-just stop…please…"
"Wormtail." The agony began again…but this time it was much more potent. The tortured screams echoed through Veronica's head…a pain far worse than undergoing the curse herself. Lurching forward, Veronica flung herself at Voldemort's feet as the Death Eaters struggled to pull her back. "Just stop," she sobbed. "Just stop…I'll give you my blood. I give you my blood! Just stop…please…"
Voldemort's eyes narrowed triumphantly. "I knew you would see reason." He raised his hand, and Wormtail desisted. Veronica's mother lay on the floor, twisting and writhing in agony. Veronica crouched down, the tears gushing forth from her eyes like a fountain.
"Mom…" she whimpered. "Mamí…it will be ok…it will be ok…" she repeated her clumsy confront over and over fervently.
Her mother's eyes gazed up at her daughter. They were glazed over, and her face was drawn and haggard. "Mija," she croaked. Veronica smiled through her tears at the old nickname. "You shouldn't be here…you need to leave…Oh God! I never wanted you to get involved…" She reached out a feeble hand to grasp her daughter's hand.
"Take her away." Voldemort was merciless. The Death Eaters dragged Veronica's mother away, her fingertips still outstretched to make contact with her daughter. Veronica stood slowly; her shoulders slumped, all of the will to fight back beaten out of her. "I hate you, you bastard," she said simply. "If you ever touch my mom again, I swear to God…" her flat statement rang out dully in the chamber. She wasn't trying to be courageous; she was pushed hopelessly against the wall and empty threats were all she had left.
Voldemort cackled without mirth. "Bring in the neutrallias potion Severus." Veronica's head snapped up at the name. She sighed…feeling even more foolish. She knew not to trust Snape…she had felt that he was a traitor…it shouldn't come as a surprise that he betrayed me, she thought bitterly. She glared at the potions master as he dragged a huge iron cauldron into the center of the room; its bottom scraped loudly against the stone ground as the clear solution bubbled and frothed within. Snape peered through the steam to respond to Veronica's furious gaze, but his expression was unreadable. "It is complete, my master," he said, bowing low.
"Good. You continue to please me Servus," Voldemort said. Snape bowed again and backed into the ring. "Come here," he gestured from Veronica to approach. Veronica slumped over to his side. With a bony claw, he clutched her forearm, holding it upon the bubbling liquid. Whipping out a jagged dagger from his cloaks, his held it aloft and cried out, "Expecto neutrallias!" Then he lowered the dagger, and with one quick slash, drew it across Veronica's flesh.
Veronica gritted her teeth as stinging tears welled up in her eyes. Her blood burst like a red torrent from her open wound, and splashed down into the cauldron. The potion within began to bubble and foam furiously, as a thick cloud of steam rose from it. Voldemort gazed down into its depths, a fanatical gleam in his livid eyes. Veronica backed away in horror, clutching her maimed arm.
"Our end of the bargain," Fingor insisted loudly.
"It is yours," Voldemort cried out, staring at the giant with his thin arms raised skyward. "Go forth and open Azkaban…free your breathen and my most loyal followers…"
Fingor knelt, and grasped the cauldron in his fists…it was like a medium sized mug to him. He looked at the potion hesitantly for a moment, and then raising it to his lips took a long draught of it. Veronica felt icy dread settle in the pit of her stomach as she beheld the fiery gleam of determination in the giant's eyes.
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A/N: Sorry I cut this off short…it has been so hard to write this chapter that I just figured I might as well post it while I was ahead. Review! Please? Look below…it is that little box down there…write whatever, you know the drill.
And a HUGE BIG THANKS TO: Linz,