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Chapter 20: The Search
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The dim light issuing from the dying torches cast deep shadows throughout the silent chamber, offering only enough light for the Death Eaters to distinguish the shape of the very irate figure before them.
"Imbeciles!" the figure roared, his voice resonating off the stone walls, causing several crumblings of dust and stone to fall from the ceiling.
The robed and hooded men and women shifted uncomfortably, their eyes meeting one another's, each and every single questioning whether they had actually performed up to their capabilities, all except the Death Eater at the far end, who was at the moment contemplating how exactly Adrienne had escaped. Snape rolled his eyes and smirked under his mask; Voldemort had once again underestimated a Potter.
"Do none of you have anything productive to tell me?" Voldemort shot.
His Death Eaters shifted uneasily.
"Do you mean to say that our endless planing of last night only earned us the death of a few hundred people? That is nothing! Crabbe, Goyle? What about you?"
Two large hooded men stepped forward.
"She, um, is stronger than she looks," muttered Crabbe uneasily.
"Am I right in believing she defeated both of you with Muggle fighting?"
Silence.
"Muggle fighting?" Voldemort drew his wand and pointed it at Crabbe, "Muggle fighting? I cannot have morons incapable of defeating Muggle attacks working for me. I gave you two a second chance, obviously I was wrong in doing that." Voldemort's red eyes flashed and Snape shut his.
"Wait, master!" called Goyle.
Voldemort sneered.
"Are you going to beg for your life, Goyle?" he asked amusedly.
Goyle stepped forward hesitantly, swallowing hard.
"The Perfect, she dropped something in the forest," he stuttered, reaching into his robes.
Voldemort lowered his wand in interest. Goyle slowly withdrew a wand.
"The Perfect dropped her wand, Master."
Voldemort rolled his eyes with impatience.
"What good is that to me? She doesn't need one!" he yelled, raising his wand in fury, but suddenly he stopped, a twisted smile slowly spreading across his face. "You mean to tell me, that little Adrienne Potter is unaccounted for, somewhere in the Muggle world, without a wand and no way of contacting Magical Society?" he asked slowly.
Snape opened his eyes, not quite sure where he was going with this.
"I think so," answered Crabbe.
Voldemort smiled evilly.
* * * * *
Joe Glenn sat silently at the side of his wife's bed, holding her still hand, his head bowed, and his eyes shut, a replay of the previous night running wildly through his mind.
He, Mia, and several other teachers had just left the cafeteria, having finished putting the finishing touches on the surprise Christmas tree for Adrienne. Every Christmas Eve after she had gone to bed they would stay up half the night putting up even more decorations, just to see her amazed face when she came rushing in at sunrise. They chatted for several minutes, then exchanged hugs and Christmas Eve greetings, and then made to leave for bed. Mia had been the first to notice it, the small, faint light drifting through the mullioned entranced windows. One by one the professors had each turned, their curiosity getting the better of them, Professor Mondel commenting that Adrienne had probably set something on fire my mistake.
"Oh my, she set the entire Gallows on fire this time!" he yelled upon swinging the entrance door open.
"What?" Mia asked, running out of the castle and down several steps before she stopped dead in her tracks, a deadly silence filling the air.
Joe walked up beside her, trying to discern in the semi-darkness what she was staring at. He didn't have to look too hard. Slowly, out of the flame filled darkness, a long line of figures were approaching the castle, dressed all in black. Joe strained to see their faces.
"Get back inside now!" yelled Mia, drawing her wand and grabbing her husband's arm.
Joe stumbled backwards after her, his face frozen in shock: They were wearing masks.
"Death Eaters? Here?" asked Professor Sloan once the doors were shut and locked.
Mia turned around, her eyes wide, "They set flame to the Gallows. Why are they coming here?"
"Where's Adrienne?" asked Professor Bell, drawing her wand also, her wizened face now stony and set.
Joe turned.
"Upstairs, still asleep," he said, following the lead of his colleagues and drawing his wand, "She'll be safe there; they won't know any students are here."
A bright flash of light shone through the window and the gigantic double doors buckled. Mia turned and stepped back from the doors, raising her wand.
"We need to send an owl; we need help," she said.
Professor Sloan ran off towards the owlery, leaving the small group of teachers in the entrance hall, all their wands pointed at the buckling door, more teachers filing in to investigate.
Another flash of light and as the doors gave, Mia cast her first spell, knocking down the first several Death Eaters. Joe looked at her; her face was blank, her eyes alert, this was just a tournament to her. Mia cast another spell, sending it at a Death Eater standing in the middle of the doorway. The Death Eater blocked it and laughed, reaching up and lowering his hood, his red eyes gleaming in the darkness, a lipless smile engulfing his face. Joe gasped and stood rooted to his spot, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to speak.
"Where's the Perfect?" Voldemort asked dangerously, his wand pointed right at Mia.
"What are you talking about?" she asked, staring at him with disdain, all too aware of the various battles now going on around her.
Voldemort's eyes flashed.
"The girl. Where is the girl? Hand her over!"
"I don't know who you are talking about," said Mia in a deadly calm.
"Tell me where the girl is! Imperio!"
Mia blocked the curse expertly and began her offense, yelling at the same time a conversation.
"I don't know who you are talking about."
"Tell me where she is, or I'll kill you."
Mia swallowed hard and shot a glance at her husband, telling him exactly what to do. Joe ran out of the room, dodging several curses; he had to find Adrienne. Mia glared at Voldemort.
"Then kill me."
* * * * *
"Adrienne?"
Joe's eyes snapped open and he stared down at his wife. Mia's eyes were half open, searching wildly around the room. She struggled to sit up.
"Honey, stay there, you've been hurt," said Joe, putting a hand gently on her shoulder.
Mia turned to him, her eyes wide with fear.
"Where is Adrienne?" she said hoarsely.
Joe didn't respond for a moment and then slowly chose his words.
"Not here," he said, stroking back his wife's hair.
Mia stared at him, taking in his worried face, his tired eyes, his frown.
"Where is she? Please tell me, Joe, please tell me they didn't get her," she whispered and then started coughing, her face turning slightly red.
Joe looked around for a doctor, but turned back to Mia when she grabbed his arm.
"Where is she?" Mia whispered again, staring into his eyes.
"I'm not sure," replied Joe, squeezing his wife's hand, "But this is Adrienne we are talking about, she can take care of herself."
Mia shook her head softly and suppressed another cough.
"She escaped then?"
Joe nodded.
"She escaped, honey, she's gone."
Mia smiled slightly, slowly shut her eyes, and drifted back into unconsciousness.
Joe again bowed his head. "Please let her have escaped," he whispered into the silent room.
* * * * *
Christmas Eve Harry hadn't been able to sleep and instead sat in his bed, his drapes drawn, staring into the maroon hangings. He didn't understand it. He didn't understand why no one had told him. He didn't understand how he could have known Adrienne now for an entire term and never realized their similarities. Now, looking back on it he couldn't see why he never questioned it when he had first seen her: They did look exactly alike. Harry brushed his hair out of his face and leaned back against his pillow, his mind still turning it over: Adrienne was his sister.
Harry must have fallen asleep at one point, because the thump of someone rolling out of bed woke him up. Harry slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes bemusedly and looking around before pulling back his curtains to reveal the small pile of presents at the foot of his bed, Ron's smiling face coming from the bed opposite him, and the figure of Hermione curled up on a chair in the corner, her presents at her feet.
"About time, it's eight already!" exclaimed Ron, picking up his pillow and tossing it at Hermione, who Harry thought must have come in during the middle of the night.
Hermione jerked awake and looked around wildly.
"Am I late?" she asked, and then taking in her surroundings, "How did I end up here?"
Harry shrugged.
"You tell us, Prefect, going to take points away from yourself for this?" he asked mockingly.
Hermione glared at him. Harry dropped his smile, his mind returning to dwell on Adrienne, who now was half way around the world, celebrating Christmas alone. 'She's with her professors at Salem, remember?' Harry reminded himself as he crawled across his bed to reach his presents.
"Adrienne's are in your piles already," said Hermione, standing up, retrieving her presents, and making her way closer to her two friends, settling down on the floor between their beds.
Harry picked up his first package; it was from Adrienne. He carefully set that aside and reached for the next one. They sat in silence, opening their presents, passing their gifts around so everyone could get a better look. Hagrid had given him a pictorial description of that summer's Quidditch World Cup. Sirius had given Harry a black broom case to store his Firebolt in. Mrs. Weasley had once again knitted him a sweater, a green one like the one from his first year, and had sent him fudge. Ron and Hermione had pooled resources to buy him a very thick, green leather bound book, its edges trimmed in gold: A Comprehensive History of the Game of Quidditch.
"That one will keep you busy," commented Ron, reaching for his last present, "It's 2000 pages long; Hermione found it."
Ron rolled his eyes, and Harry laughed, only Hermione would find the largest book in the store.
"Thanks you two, I think I'll save it for the summer, that way I'll have something to keep me busy," Harry said, placing the heavy book in the small pile behind him.
He turned to the last package, wrapped in blue paper, and looked at the note: To the famous Harry Potter (I bet you loved that!) From the one and only unfamous Adrienne Miles.
Harry shook his head amusedly, wondering how Adrienne could be so odd even in her notes. Harry slowly opened the present, following the creases, not ripping the paper. Hermione and Ron causally watched him, wondering what he was thinking. Harry reached into the open end of the package and pulled out a beautiful mahogany framed photograph. Harry stared at it the picture for several seconds, his jaw hanging open.
"Harry? What did she give you?" asked Ron, walking over, stopping to give Hermione a hand up.
Harry stared at the picture. His parents stared back at him, young and smiling, a little boy with messy black hair in his mothers arms, perhaps a year old. They were standing next to a young lady wearing deep purple robes. Her shoulder length hair framed her young face, her purple eyes sparkling proudly, a large golden medal hanging off her neck, a girly signature at the bottom in a shimmery jade pen: Mia Enid Hartel.
"Where did she get that?" asked Hermione, looking over Harry's shoulder.
"That's my parents," he whispered, "and that's me. But who's the other lady?"
"Did Adrienne leave you a note with it?" asked Ron, picking up the discarded paper from Harry's lap. He stuck his hand in and felt around, slowly withdrawing a folded piece of paper
"Here," Ron said, handing it to Harry.
Dear Harry – Merry Christmas,
Ah ha! Hermi told me that you didn't have any pictures of you with your parents. Now, of course, being me, that's exactly what I would have wanted for Christmas, so I decided perhaps you would too. The lady in that picture is Professor Hartel fourteen years ago when she became the International Dueling Champion, the first girl to do so. Your parents went to the Championship, which was held at the beginning of October 1982, and it turns out, had their pictures taken with Professor Hartel, and Professor Hartel said that they had sent it to her to have her sign it. However, that was right before that Halloween, and for some reason Professor Hartel had kept it all these years. When I mentioned that I hung out with you, Hermione, and Ron, she said she seemed to remember something and later wrote about the picture she still had. I had it framed for you and then sent to me. I dearly hope you like it; I know it isn't just you and your parents, but I figured it would work anyway. I hope you enjoy your Christmas, and I think you should peg Draco with snowballs – but that's just my opinion. I'll see you in about 10 days.
Always,
Adrienne
"Oh my, I forgot – Adrienne still doesn't know, does she?" asked Hermione slowly, looking at the photograph, "To think, Adrienne's surrogate mother met her parents." Hermione shook her head hatefully, "What kind of world do we live in where peoples lives can be ripped apart so easily?"
* * * * *
Snape raced back across the grounds Christmas morning, slipping and sliding and cursing the icy snow beneath his feet, wondering exactly what genius set the castle so far back onto the grounds. Out of the corner of his eye, a large black dog was running at top speed out of the forest, running to meet him. Snape's eyes narrowed and he sneered, aiming a kick at it as it approached him. Sirius, on the other hand, was a lot quicker and jumped out of the way, barring his teeth, yet, tilted his head towards the castle and turned to walk up ahead, indicating for Snape to follow. Sirius walked, turning around often to make sure Snape wouldn't curse him behind his back, which was exactly what he was contemplating.
"What took so long, Severus?" asked Dumbledore once Snape and the dog were safely in the Headmaster's office.
A slight pop resonated through the room and Sirius took his normal shape, promptly stepping back to his Snape-less corner.
"You haven't heard about it yet?" asked Snape, a little breathlessly; he wasn't in the best shape to be running around the Hogwarts grounds, nor through the castle at top speed.
Dumbledore shook his head, and his eyes dulled with a reluctant curiosity. Snape took a deep breath.
"They were all gone when I arrived there, except for some young bozo recruit who wouldn't let me leave. They went to that Salem school, to find Adrienne."
"What?" asked Sirius, striding over to Snape, "Is she all right?"
Snape turned and rolled his eyes.
"Of course she's all right, if Potter can escape Voldemort, his sister can," Snape shot, and then turned his attention to Dumbledore, "They burned the Gallows, attacked the school, and somehow Adrienne escaped. The problem remains though, that not one person knows where she is."
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, shutting his eyes to think. The room was silent for several minutes, Snape and Sirius, forgetting they hated each other for a second or so, stared side-by-side at Dumbledore, waiting for him to reply.
"Well, if Adrienne has her wand she may try to Apparate, that's taught earlier at Salem, perhaps she'll try that. Even if she splices herself the Ministry will find her and rescue her from the Muggle world," said Dumbledore, opening his eyes.
"Is Adrienne the kind of person to go around breaking the Ministry's laws?" asked Sirius doubtfully.
Snape laughed.
"If she's like her brother, of course she is; however, she doesn't have her wand, Voldemort does," said Snape coolly, "She dropped it in the forest between Salem and the Gallows, and I don't think Adrienne knows that she doesn't need a wand, so she probably won't try."
Dumbledore nodded his agreement.
"She's alone somewhere in the Muggle world and for all intens and purposes, powerless," said Dumbledore slowly, standing up and walking to his window to look out over the lawn.
* * * * *
Adrienne stared listlessly out of the window, watching the clouds swirl by, watching the blue ocean roll beneath her, feeling as is she was at its depths, with no way of surfacing and with no way of perishing; just there, trapped at the bottom, begging for air and yet not getting the relief of slowly drifting into an asphyxiated death. Her brain worked constantly, rationalizing and contemplating, yet reaching no firm conclusion, no firm platform to give her a stance from which to move forward.
Adrienne sat there, her hands folded in her lap, her mind drifting back to the horrific screams that had echoed through Salem, to the worried and desperate face Professor Glenn had worn as he shoved her from the castle out into the bitter Christmas air. The images of the body strewn Gallows set itself in her mind. Adrienne shut her eyes and shook her head, unable to banish the image from her thoughts. Whether her eyes were shut or open, clear as anything she could see the disturbing picture of a young girl, lying in what remained of her charred cotton nightclothes, her hair entirely burned off, her eyes open and bloodshot, her skin peeling back in large folds from her burns, her body thrown into the street like an old-newspaper. Adrienne could see the bodies, each engrained in her memory as if they had been etched into marble by a realistic sculptor; each one haunting her, plaguing her, each one whispering through their dead lips, their dead stares saying the same thing: They had died because of her. They're blood was on her hands. Adrienne's eyes snapped open; she was shaking violently.
"They all died because of me," she whispered, and threw herself out of her seat and ran towards the lavatory, retching for the fourth time since take-off.
Adrienne didn't look in the mirror, she just slowly washed her hands, refusing to look, refusing to acknowledge it. She stood there, desperately trying to believe that she was having a nightmare, that any moment she would wake up screaming, and all her professors would rush in, and she would tell them everything that she had ever dreamed, every strange thing that had ever happened to her. If only she would wake up. Adrienne slowly walked out, not having looked at her reflection at all; she didn't want to see herself, she didn't want to see a person who had brought about so much suffering in one night.
Adrienne slowly strode through the plane, her eyes scanning every seat, falling upon a little girl sitting on the lap of a lady who must have been her mother, playing pat-a-cake and giggling. Except to Adrienne, this little girl wasn't wearing pink overalls, nor a cute white turtleneck, she wasn't laughing, nor did she have pigtails; to Adrienne she was the little girl in the charred nightshirt, lying dead in the Gallows, her life snuffed out before its time, stolen in the night by the unfairness of life, and all because of Adrienne.
Adrienne turned on her heel and ran back towards the lavatory.
* * * * *
"Mia!"
Mia slowly turned her head and watched as several of her colleagues trooped into her hospital room. Mia smiled slightly, the noise of their shoes making her head begin to pound. She squeezed Joe's hand and whispered, "They're hurting my head."
"Shh, she's injured remember?" he asked, not in his usual joking mood.
Professor Bell looked at him sternly and then turned her attention to Mia.
"How are you feeling, my dear?" she asked, pulling a chair up next to Joe's.
"Like I spent my night dueling the Dark Lord," she whispered in an attempt to be sarcastic.
Professor Bell cracked a smile.
"Quite understandable."
Mia turned her attention to a black lady with short hair standing next to Professor Bell.
"Meagan, I bet your first year of teaching will remain in your memory forever, eh?" she asked hoarsely.
Meagan smiled slightly and muttered something about needing to find a safer job. Mia laughed, only to send her into a severe coughing fit. Joe leaned forward and handed her a small glass of a green potion, which Mia drank, spilling half of it down her front though.
"Where's everyone else?" asked Mia after she caught her breath.
Professor Bell's smile faded.
"Some are in their rooms, recovering," she replied quietly.
Mia looked at Julia with understanding.
"And the others aren't in their rooms recovering, are they?" she asked quietly.
Professor Bell shook her head slightly, her eyes beginning to tear.
"Who?" asked Mia quietly, tightening her grip on her husband's hand.
Joe squeezed back.
"Ralph Mondel and Leslie Sloan were killed during the fight. Cynthia Montgomery and Rachel Rozenth died after arriving here of complications resulting from various curses," replied Professor Bell quietly.
"Oh god," Mia murmured, raising a hand to her mouth in horror, not knowing exactly what else to say.
"And the Gallows was completely destroyed, including the Ministry buildings," added Meagan, "They are putting the death toll at about 270 right now, but they haven't discovered all the bodies yet."
Mia closed her eyes.
"All this because Voldemort wanted a Perfect," she whispered.
Joe leaned back in his chair.
"I don't see why he thought Adrienne was a Perfect; I mean, our little Adrienne, a Perfect?" he asked in disbelief.
Mia turned her head to look at her husband.
"What do you suppose she isn't telling us?"
* * * * *
Adrienne slowly trudged through Heathrow, running absentmindedly into people, her face expressionless, her eyes dull, her mind constantly repeating to her, "They died because of you." Adrienne shook her head and walked out of the airport to stand in the swirling snow, watching the Christmas Day's semi-empty streets. Adrienne wrapped her arms around her body and shivered.
"Now what do I do?" she whispered and stepped out of the way of a large caravan of people rushing towards the entrance.
"I could go to Diagon Alley, and use a floo," she said quietly, but then reminded herself that she didn't know where Diagon Alley was; to top it off, she didn't even know where Hogwarts was.
"Wonderful," she muttered, pulling out her Muggle money and counting it. She had a little over 700 American dollars left. For a few seconds, her mind, focusing on her new problem, forgot about the horrific night at Salem and reminded her that she'd need to exchange currency. Adrienne headed back into the airport, a feeling of dread rising in her throat: She was alone in a town she didn't know, in a culture that wouldn't offer any help, and she had no idea how to get to Hogwarts.
* * * * *
"I'm so starved, I could eat a horse," said Ron as he, Harry, and Hermione made their way down to the Christmas feast.
Hermione laughed and shook her head.
"I see you've picked up Adrienne's quaint little dialect there," she said smiling at Ron.
Ron blushed.
"Sorry, Ron, but I seriously doubt we are having horse for dinner; however, if you are that set on eating it, I'm sure Professor McGonagall could transfigure some of your pork into horsemeat, that is, if you ask her real nicely," said Harry, dodging the irritated blow Ron had aimed at him.
"If Adrienne had said that you two wouldn't have said anything," said Ron somewhat angrily.
Hermione smiled even more.
"That's because, Ron, that's how Adrienne always talks; you on the other hand have never spoken like that before, so it's hilarious," she said.
Ron rolled his eyes. Harry laughed and pushed open the doors to the Great Hall. Once again the house tables were pushed to the side, and a large table was centered in the middle. Professors Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall, and Lycé were already seated. Across from them, at the edge of the table, sat Malfoy, Goyle, and Crabbe. Several other younger students Harry didn't know were scattered throughout the other chairs.
"Merry Christmas!" said Dumbledore jovially as the three made their way over, but Harry thought he sounded a little different, and he looked a little less happy than usual.
"Merry Christmas, Professor Dumbledore," said Harry taking a seat across from him. Ron and Hermione took the chairs on either side of Harry.
"We are going to wait a few more minutes I think, to make sure no other students or staff are coming," said Dumbledore.
Ron turned to Harry. "I wonder how they celebrate Christmas in America," he said, his face breaking into the goofy smile that told Harry he was thinking about Adrienne.
Harry smirked. "I'm sure they celebrate Christmas like we do, or close at least. Adrienne is probably running around that castle, falling down stairs, and giving her professors a run for their money. She did say something about keeping them entertained, didn't she?" asked Harry, looking around the table, trying to figure out who they were waiting for.
"I wonder if she has her dress yet?" muttered Ron.
Just as Dumbledore stood up to no doubt make the announcement that they could begin eating, several owls flew into the Great Hall. Hermione looked up.
"I wonder who those are for?" A lone owl made its way to their direction, carrying what looked like a newspaper. It landed in front of Hermione, and she reached out to grab it. "I didn't think the Daily Prophet printed on Christmas; they didn't last year," she said, slowly opening it.
Several other papers dropped in front of Draco and the professors. Hermione opened the newspaper curiously.
"Oh my god," she gasped, beginning to read the first headline:
"Death Eaters attack the Gallows and the Salem Academy for Magical Studies"
"Harry, Ron, look!" she said, leaning over so they could see the paper.
At around midnight, last night, Death Eaters marched upon the American wizarding town, the Gallows. About a three-fourths of the group stayed in the Gallows, torching the houses and buildings, and killing all those who fled the flames; the other fourth separated and made their way to Salem Academy. In addition, the Ministry complex was also burned. Within minutes, the few Ministry officials and aurors present during the holidays began their counterattack; however, they were seriously outnumbered. The Death Eaters placed an unknown spell that prevented apparation and the use of the floo network, prohibiting the town and Ministry to call for backup.
A small group of approximately fifteen Death Eaters advanced upon the Salem Academy; however, they found the professors there a more formidable opponent than the Gallows. It is rumored that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was there himself. How this is possible, it is unclear. The school's defense was led by former International Dueling Champion, Mia Hartel-Glenn, who is now currently in stable condition at the Dothberg Hospital of Modern Magic outside of Boston, Massachusetts. The Salem staff suffered far less casualties than those of the Gallows. Two professors were pronounced dead at the scene, and two died later at Dothberg. Several are still in critical condition, but are expected to survive.
Salem Academy was not housing any regular students at the time; however, Salem was playing home to the Underage International Dueling Champion, fifth-year, Adrienne L. Miles, who transferred from Salem to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at the start of this school term. At the present moment, Miles is unaccounted for; however, the rumor among several professors is that the Death Eaters had come for her. What the young Miles could have done to make herself their target is unknown, but both the American and British Ministries have a search for Miles in progress. She was last seen Christmas Eve at midnight. She is five foot five inches, with long black hair, and green eyes. If anyone has information regarding her whereabouts or regarding the whereabouts of the Death Eaters, they are urged to owl their Ministry immediately.
Harry looked up from the paper, his mind racing. The Death Eaters had attacked Salem and Adrienne was now missing.
"Do you think she is all right?" asked Ron, hoarsely, his hands clenched nervously in his lap.
Hermione put a hand on Harry's knee and squeezed. "Harry, she'll be all right. She can take care of herself. Just be happy the Death Eaters didn't get her," she whispered so only he could hear.
"Potter, seems your little friend got herself into some trouble, doesn't it?" Draco had also finished reading the article. "Too bad they didn't catch her, eh?" shot Malfoy evilly.
"Mr. Malfoy, that will be enough," said Dumbledore calmly.
Harry stood up; he suddenly didn't feel very well. Hermione and Ron followed.
"Yes, too bad, Malfoy. If anyone could have knocked some sense into those monsters, it would have been Adrienne," said Hermione, glaring at Malfoy, "I'm sure she could have given your parents broken noses, then your entire family could match."
"Miss Granger!" said Professor McGonagall, her eyes flashing, although she too knew that Malfoy's parents had probably been there.
"Don't you insult my family, Mudblood!" shot Malfoy, standing up angrily.
"Then you be careful who you insult!" replied Ron.
Professor Dumbledore didn't say anything, knowing all too well that no matter how hard Malfoy tried to instigate a fight, Harry wouldn't even respond; it seemed he was too shocked at the news.
"Perhaps you should go speak to him, Albus," said Professor McGonagall, watching the three walk from the room.
Professor Dumbledore shook his head. "Not right now, I have an appointment with Fudge in several hours. I'll speak with Harry when I return with more information," Dumbledore replied.
He shot a glance at Snape, who had an odd expression on his face, and Dumbledore correctly guessed that the Potions Master was envisioning how the Malfoys would all look with broken noses.
* * * * *
Adrienne trudged through London, her head bent to protect her already burnt face from the wind. Her fingers were as cold as ice and she looked around desperately for a store where she could buy some gloves and perhaps a hat; however, they were all closed. She stopped at the edge of the sidewalk and watched the cars pass by in front of her; each one of them filled with laughing families, no doubt going to a relative's house for Christmas dinner. Adrienne shut her eyes. She should be at Salem, sitting around the large table in the cafeteria, watching everyone eating and laughing; Professor Glenn continually drinking wine until Adrienne was sure he'd pass out, which he never did. She should be there, drinking hot chocolate by the fireplace in the teacher's lounge after dinner, siting with all her professors, listening to their stories and their childhood adventures. Adrienne shook her head; instead, she was alone in London, freezing, and lost.
Adrienne carefully crossed the street and continued walking, her hands shoved into her pockets, her shoulders hunched up to shield her neck from the wind. It was starting to get dark now, the winter sun slowly setting, stealing the weak rays of warmth that had accompanied the day. Adrienne shuddered. She didn't want to spend all night out in the cold again. She walked by a large hotel and watched the limousines and taxis parked under the ramada in front. She made her way over to the nearest taxi.
"King's Cross please," she told the driver, climbing into the warm car.
* * * * *
Harry sat quietly in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione sat at his feet, leaning back against his legs and sighed. Ron sat on the floor and stared into space, hoping with all his might that Adrienne was all right, that where ever she was she was safe, and warm, and unafraid.
"Can you imagine what that must feel like?" asked Harry suddenly, breaking the depressing silence that had overtaken the room.
"What?" asked Hermione quietly, pulling her legs up to her chest and hugging them.
"To have to run for your life on Christmas Eve," said Harry. He absentmindedly ran his hands through his hair, a deep worry residing in his gut, "I wonder where she is?"
Hermione stood up and turned to look at him.
"Where ever she is, Harry, she's safe. As long as You-Know-Who didn't get her, she's safe," Hermione said reassuringly.
Harry shook his head.
"Alone on Christmas. She's probably roaming around somewhere, wondering whether her professors at Salem are still alive. That can't be a pleasant thought," Harry replied. "She shouldn't have to spend Christmas out there alone, in the cold; she doesn't deserve that."
Hermione looked at Harry, not knowing exactly what to say; all her knowledge she had picked up over the years not assisting her at all.
"Why would You-Know-Who want her?" asked Ron quietly, turning to look at Harry.
Harry shut his eyes; this had been the question that had been plaguing him for several hours now. He had been questioning himself about whether Voldemort knew who Adrienne really was, and if he did, had Voldemort attacked Salem to retrieve her to use as leverage against him. Harry sighed and shook his head.
"You don't think its your fault, do you Harry?" asked Hermione quickly, reading his face. "It couldn't have been your fault. Salem and the Gallows is across an ocean, Harry."
Harry's eyes snapped open. "If all those people died, if Adrienne is out somewhere, alone and freezing on Christmas because Voldemort thought he could use her against me, then it is my fault," Harry shot, standing up and walking past Hermione, and running up the staircase to his dormitory.
Harry locked the door behind him and stood in the middle of his room deep in thought; he wasn't going to let Adrienne suffer because of him; Harry wasn't going to let Voldemort find her first, not if he could help it anyway.
"Where would she go?" he asked himself quietly, walking towards the window and staring into the darkening sky. Harry put his hands onto the windowpane and stared out over the Forbidden Forest.
"Where would I go?" he asked himself, "If I was at Salem and under attack I'd want to get away to someplace safe. Where would I go?"
Harry turned back and walked to his bed, collapsing backwards onto it, staring up into the canopy.
"If I wanted to escape something, where would I go?" he whispered into the silent air.
And almost as if someone had been speaking to him, instructing him, he heard it. Looking back on it, Harry didn't know if he had imagined it, or if someone or something had whispered it to him, but nevertheless he had heard it: "Four years ago you escaped to Hogwarts." Harry sat up.
"She's coming here," he whispered to himself, "But how?"
"Alohamora!" The dormitory door burst open and Hermione and Ron walked in. Hermione wore a worried expression, and Ron was pale and obviously very worried.
"You know what, Harry?" said Hermione, walking over to him. Harry glared at her; he had just began to make progress in trying to figure out where Adrienne would be, "If I were Adrienne, and my home was under attack, I'd come back here." Ron nodded his head.
"Yea, it would be the only place to go, especially if the Death Eaters were after me," Ron agreed, sitting down slowly on his bed, looking at his hands in worry.
Hermione sat down next to Harry.
"And I wouldn't waste anytime about it. I'd get to Hogwarts as fast as I can. And, if I'd left my Firebolt at school, and floo powder wouldn't cross the ocean, and I didn't know how to Apparate, there would be only one logical way to get there," said Hermione.
Harry looked at her, his eyes widening in understanding.
"You'd take a plane," he said quickly.
"And once I took a plane to London, I'd still have to get to Hogwarts. And the only way I would know how to get to Hogwarts would be . . ."
"To follow the tracks from Kings Cross," finished Harry, standing up quickly. Hermione looked at him, a furious battle going on in her mind.
"You really going to do this, Harry?" she asked slowly, watching Harry rush towards his trunk.
Ron looked up quickly, a mixture of worry and relief on his face. Harry didn't respond. Hermione shut her eyes and continued her silent battle. Harry pulled out his new broom case and yanked out his Firebolt. Hermione bit her lip. Part of her wanting to tell him that if he went she'd tell the professors, and the other part knowing that Adrienne could easily freeze if she was trying to make it to Hogwarts, and if she didn't freeze, the Death Eaters could find her before she made it to the castle.
Harry walked towards his bedside cabinet and pulled out his winter cloak, fastening it around his neck and pulling on his dragon hide gloves.
"Hermione, I'm not going to lose another member of my family to Voldemort. I'm going to find her," he said determinedly, stealing a glance at the picture now sitting atop his bedside cabinet, looking longingly at his parents, "If they were alive they wouldn't sit back and do nothing."
Hermione put her head in her hands.
"It's going to be cold. You don't even know if she'll be there yet. She could still be in America," said Hermione, now wishing she hadn't told Harry this, realizing that she should have known he'd want to go looking for her.
Harry walked over to the window, his broom in hand.
"Promise me you won't tell," said Harry, turning back around and looking from Hermione to Ron.
Hermione stood up. "We could just tell Professor Dumbledore, then he could tell the Ministry and they could go find her," said Hermione.
Harry shook his head.
"They have leaks at the Ministry, someone who works for Voldemort could get to her first, and plus, I saw Dumbledore leave earlier, I bet he went to the Ministry to discuss this with them," Harry said.
"You might be seen," said Ron quickly, standing up and walking to Harry's trunk. Ron pulled out Harry's invisibility cloak. He handed it to Harry.
"Bring her back, Harry," said Ron quietly, "Find her first, before the Death Eaters do, ok?"
Harry nodded and looked at Hermione.
"I'll be back, with Adrienne."
Hermione nodded and sat down on his bed. "We'll be here waiting. London is southwest from here, make sure you don't get lost, or both of you will freeze," she said, shaking her head.
Harry smiled sardonically. "Thanks for the encouragement."
Harry turned, pulled his invisibility cloak over his head and threw open the window. A blast of freezing air met him, causing his teeth to begin to chatter. Harry took a deep breath, mounted his broom, and flew out, invisible. Hermione stood up and walked over to the window, closing it, but not latching it. Hermione stared out it the quickly darkening sky, her eyes taking in the quickly falling snow.
"Be careful," she whispered.