Disclaimer: You know the drill.
Author's Note: First of all, I want you to know that I have now decided against changing the title of this fic. Secondly, I would like to thank my main reviewer Enialedam, who has been a constant source of inspiration. Third and finally, I have come to the conclusion that Author's Note's are now being overdone and so I shall try to write them as least as possible, they shall be replaced by rants, like the one at the end of the story. So, with that out of the way, on to chapter eight.
Harry Potter and the Body Snatcher; Chapter 8:
There were very few things that truly terrified Draco Malfoy, and Mrs. Weasley was now definitely one of them.
She squinted at them through small bloodshot eyes. One. By. One. "First of all," she began in a whisper, "I want to know what they are doing here." Narcissa shot Dumbledore a pleading look. "Secondly, I want to know who exactly is going to clean up his mess." Madam Pomfrey shuffled closer to make the huge puddle on the kitchen floor look smaller, "And lastly, WHAT IN MERLIN'S NAME SHALL WE HAVE FOR SUPPER?"
"Now honeypie, mind your blood pressure now –"
"AND YOU SHUT YER TRAP!"
MR. Weasley made a strangled sound and tried to make himself invisible in the overstuffed armchair. "Now, Molly, you really must settle down," said Dumbledore "Mister and Misses Malfoy's presence here could not be helped as it is of utmost importance to our cause." That got a loud reaction, "And concerning the mess and dinner, I'm sure the Hogwarts house-elves would be delighted to help in any way they can."
He turned to Draco, who was turning a troubling shade of green. "I assume you add certain foreign elements to your cooking, Molly?"
"Yes. The enchantment is supposed to give anyone who touches the meal before a predetermined time …gas…problems…" Even Narcissa had trouble keeping her face straight.
"You don't look so well dear," Mrs. Weasley informed Draco, he was extremely sweaty and pale and was swaying from side to side, "Ron, please take him up and help him wash up."
Ron blinked, "Excuse me?" "You heard me, and I don't want any fussing. I've got to get ready for the house-elves. Harry, Ginny, Hermione, please lend me a hand. Open mouthed, the three left with Molly. Dumbledore and the others also had very convenient appointments elsewhere.
"Look, Weasley, I can take care of myself, just show me to the bathroom. Really, its alright, Weasley? Are you all right? Weasley?"
Cold.
So cold.
Victor Krum sat up. Bad idea. He rushed to a corner in time to heave. He didn't feel good. Not at all. It took him a considerable amount of time, but he gradually became aware of his surroundings.
A cave. He was sitting on a bed of dried grass and leaves. Naked. Victor Krum was sitting on a bed of leaves in a cold damp place - stark naked. Blind fear rushed through him. How did he get here? Where was "here"?
"Hello?" he whispered in the darkness, afraid of what might reply. Krum stood up on shaky legs and felt his way across the wall. A curving edge. He turned the corner- and bumped into- "Charles?" Relief flooded him and he hugged the elder man warmly. When he didn't receive any emotional response in return, Krum stepped back and gasped.
The man seemed to have aged thirty-years-at least. The once cheerful chubby man had somehow become the stick thin, gaunt and half dead creature he saw before him overnight. In Charles' hands were Krum's clothes. He took them cautiously and put them on.
"Um, Charles?" Krum begun, "Vot are vee doing here?" The butler looked at him with soulless eyes, evidently surprised, "You don't remember?" Krum shook his head slowly. I think you better sit down, sir."
Fifteen minutes later Krum jumped up in a fury, "You've obviously gone mad, man!" he screamed, "If I did vot you accuse me of, vy can't I remember?" The butler looked at him sadly, "Exactly. What do you remember?" "I…"
Charle's was right, he couldn't remember much of anything. "Oh no…Hermione…" "Come," Charles said and starting walking away, "I've been spotted, Ministry officials will be here soon." Krum walked behind him, in a dreamlike manner and an expression of horror fixed on his face.