No Exit From Hogwarts: Act IV
By the Scribe
Author's Notes: Ye GODS! It's been almost a year! Well, I suppose that means I should begin this with some quick groveling and hasty excuses and hurry up with the ending. I haven't abandoned this or any of my other stories, but I just moved away and started college and it's really the first opportunity to get some serious writing done, this vacation. So anyway, sorry and I'll get started on the middle and ending now. Really!
Act IV: Harry Gets Things Sorted Out
Time passed, and Hermione seethed. SHE a Hufflepuff? Not that there was anything wrong with the Hufflepuffs, she thought hastily, but after all, she was a GRYFFINDOR. It was who she was. Over the past four years her house had become as much a part of her identity as her bushy hair, preference for sugarquills, and top marks. And she would be just as upset if she had been forced to sit at Ravenclaw table. Really. She repeated similar thoughts as her fingernails sunk deeper and deeper into the wood of the table in front of her. Ron coughed and edged his chair a bit closer to Ravenclaw table. He was seriously confused. So confused that the humor of seeing Hermione for all intents and purposes labeled dumber than him had already lost its charm. Well, most of it, he thought as he heard the massive table behind him move forward a centimeter under the force of her grip. He had to admit that he was shocked, too. He had never considered himself all that bright. Sure, he'd never forgotten the existence of his magic powers in a crisis situation - Hufflepuff table shifted clairvoyantly - but everyone knew that Hermione was the brains, Harry the brawn, and he was the comic relief of their little trio. Even in his family Percy and Bill were the N.E.W.T. winners and Charlie and the twins were the best at Quidditch. It was interesting to be sitting at the smart table for once. But he had bigger things to worry about. Like the fact that an obvious reason for their current situation was now coming to mind. Who could possibly want to capture Harry Potter's two best friends? It wouldn't explain everything, but it was a pretty good starting point. "So, how many Death Eaters d'you think would get us if we found a way to open that door?" he asked. Hermione looked up in surprise. She'd been too busy trying to take in the consummation of her greatest fear - that she wasn't really that bright, after all - to have considered their strange situation too thoroughly. "Death Eaters?" she repeated, still uncomprehending. Then understanding came to her cheeks in a joyful flush. She jumped to her feet and rushed over and hugged him. His ears turned pink. "Of COURSE! It's all a trick! Voldemort's somehow brought us here, to a place that looks familiar, but put us at completely ridiculous tables to throw us off balance!" "Completely ridiculous? What do you mean by that?!" Ron's ears turned from pink to red at the implied insult. "What, I'm too dumb for Ravenclaw?" Hermione closed her mouth quickly. But not for long. "No. I didn't say that. You aren't dumb, Ron. But let's face it, you aren't exactly a Ravenclaw. I mean, you never study unless I make you, and look at your grades." Ron's eyebrows rushed down to meet in the center of his sweaty forehead. "I see. Well isn't it funny how I'm such an idiot, yet I'm the only one trying to figure out how we got here." "I, but," Hermione stuttered, embarrassed. "Well, it's obviously some trick of Voldemort's." "Yeah," Ron mused, thinking things through more thoroughly than he usually took the time to. "But why would he go to the trouble of 'throwing us off balance' like this? It's not really his style to spend this much effort on a couple of hostages. Making a fake Great Hall and everything. Wouldn't he just tie us up and throw us in some Death Eater hideout. Or use the Cruciatus or Imperious or Killing Curse? He isn't exactly known for his squeamishness and delicacy." Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but didn't seem to know exactly what that should be. He was right, the scenario wasn't very characteristic of Voldemort. You-Know-Who would save his mind games for bigger threats, like Harry or Dumbledore. Her eyes opened wide. Harry. "Where's Harry, then?" She shot out. "That's what we should be thinking of. If this is some kind of trap to draw him out, he's probably in bigger danger than us. When was the last time you saw him?" Ron's eyes narrowed at the nervous edge to her voice. That worried about Harry, was she? How cozy. It didn't matter if that stupid git Ron was boiling to death right in front of her. As long as Harry was okay, we can all rest easy in our beds. "Oh, of course you'd worry about poor Harry," he snarled. "Of course." Hermione was confused by the accusation she heard in Ron's voice, and didn't half like it. "He's our best friend and he's got a really powerful Dark Wizard trying to kill him on a fairly regular basis. Where did you see him last?" "Some of us have better things to do then follow the comings and goings of the Great Harry Potter," he retorted immediately. "It's hard to believe, I know, seeing as how he's so dreamy and perfect and rich and a Champion and See-" "What's wrong with you? You say those things like they're bad. Harry works hard at Quidditch, and he never wanted to be a Champion. I thought you two were past that whole thing. I mean, after the first task." "I know he didn't put his name in the Goblet, Hermione. I don't need you to tell me. I'm the one sitting at the smart table, after all. Why don't you trot on back to the 'hard working' section?" He smirked patronizingly. Hermione gave an inarticulate squeak, too furious to form words. After a second Ron seemed to register exactly what he had said and was torn between apologizing and running for his life. Before he could do either, the sound of footsteps turned their attention to the humongous doors. "Sorry," said a familiar voice. "But I didn't catch your name." They looked at each other. "Harry." Ron was on his feet in an instant and they ran towards the door, their anger forgotten. They were two yards away when the doors swung open again, revealing the strange man and a slightly confused, but ever polite Harry. "You can call me the Usher, if you like," the man was saying as he gestured the doors shut behind him. With a smile and nod at the other two teenagers, the Usher placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and tried to steer him towards the House tables. Harry had caught sight of his friends, however, and shook off the guiding hand. "Ron! Hermione! You're here to," he mused, stepping towards them. "Yes, yes. We're all here now," his escort said quickly. "You must all have a seat, though. It's much too hot to be standing about." The room suddenly seemed to jump ten degrees in temperature. Sweat streamed in little rivers down the foreheads of the trio, and Ron began to wonder if it wouldn't be better to put out the Jack o' Lanterns by the Slytherin table, as they weren't using it anyway and had enough light, really, as it was. He had just collapsed into a chair at the nearest table (Ravenclaw) and Hermione had fallen back onto the seat closest to her (a Hufflepuff, but hadn't she been right next to him a second ago? ) when the Usher pulled out a seat at Slytherin table, and held it for Harry. Harry stared at the man blankly. "I'm not sitting in Malfoy's chair," he blurted, forgetting his manners. He turned towards the Gryffindor table.
"Of course," the Usher replied apologetically. He slid Draco Malfoy's customary seat back, and pulled the seat next to it out. "There you go." Harry glanced around at the rest of the Hall, took in Hermione at Hufflepuff, Ron at Ravenclaw, and the empty Gryffindor table. Slowly, he turned his eyes back to the Usher, looked at him for a wordless moment, then took the seat offered him. The Usher smiled. "Well, now everyone's settled, I'll leave you to it. Mister Weasley has my bell, if any emergencies come up. Farewell." He bowed at them all and walked out. The three friends looked at each other from their separate tables as the heavy clap of the boors shutting echoed through the hazy room. "Well, this is rather uncomfortable," Harry mused, turning his gaze away and running his sleeve across his forehead.
Notes: Ah, so much for Act IV. At least it's an update! Act V: The Green Eyed will be out much MUCH sooner than this was, I swear!
Author's Notes: Ye GODS! It's been almost a year! Well, I suppose that means I should begin this with some quick groveling and hasty excuses and hurry up with the ending. I haven't abandoned this or any of my other stories, but I just moved away and started college and it's really the first opportunity to get some serious writing done, this vacation. So anyway, sorry and I'll get started on the middle and ending now. Really!
Act IV: Harry Gets Things Sorted Out
Time passed, and Hermione seethed. SHE a Hufflepuff? Not that there was anything wrong with the Hufflepuffs, she thought hastily, but after all, she was a GRYFFINDOR. It was who she was. Over the past four years her house had become as much a part of her identity as her bushy hair, preference for sugarquills, and top marks. And she would be just as upset if she had been forced to sit at Ravenclaw table. Really. She repeated similar thoughts as her fingernails sunk deeper and deeper into the wood of the table in front of her. Ron coughed and edged his chair a bit closer to Ravenclaw table. He was seriously confused. So confused that the humor of seeing Hermione for all intents and purposes labeled dumber than him had already lost its charm. Well, most of it, he thought as he heard the massive table behind him move forward a centimeter under the force of her grip. He had to admit that he was shocked, too. He had never considered himself all that bright. Sure, he'd never forgotten the existence of his magic powers in a crisis situation - Hufflepuff table shifted clairvoyantly - but everyone knew that Hermione was the brains, Harry the brawn, and he was the comic relief of their little trio. Even in his family Percy and Bill were the N.E.W.T. winners and Charlie and the twins were the best at Quidditch. It was interesting to be sitting at the smart table for once. But he had bigger things to worry about. Like the fact that an obvious reason for their current situation was now coming to mind. Who could possibly want to capture Harry Potter's two best friends? It wouldn't explain everything, but it was a pretty good starting point. "So, how many Death Eaters d'you think would get us if we found a way to open that door?" he asked. Hermione looked up in surprise. She'd been too busy trying to take in the consummation of her greatest fear - that she wasn't really that bright, after all - to have considered their strange situation too thoroughly. "Death Eaters?" she repeated, still uncomprehending. Then understanding came to her cheeks in a joyful flush. She jumped to her feet and rushed over and hugged him. His ears turned pink. "Of COURSE! It's all a trick! Voldemort's somehow brought us here, to a place that looks familiar, but put us at completely ridiculous tables to throw us off balance!" "Completely ridiculous? What do you mean by that?!" Ron's ears turned from pink to red at the implied insult. "What, I'm too dumb for Ravenclaw?" Hermione closed her mouth quickly. But not for long. "No. I didn't say that. You aren't dumb, Ron. But let's face it, you aren't exactly a Ravenclaw. I mean, you never study unless I make you, and look at your grades." Ron's eyebrows rushed down to meet in the center of his sweaty forehead. "I see. Well isn't it funny how I'm such an idiot, yet I'm the only one trying to figure out how we got here." "I, but," Hermione stuttered, embarrassed. "Well, it's obviously some trick of Voldemort's." "Yeah," Ron mused, thinking things through more thoroughly than he usually took the time to. "But why would he go to the trouble of 'throwing us off balance' like this? It's not really his style to spend this much effort on a couple of hostages. Making a fake Great Hall and everything. Wouldn't he just tie us up and throw us in some Death Eater hideout. Or use the Cruciatus or Imperious or Killing Curse? He isn't exactly known for his squeamishness and delicacy." Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but didn't seem to know exactly what that should be. He was right, the scenario wasn't very characteristic of Voldemort. You-Know-Who would save his mind games for bigger threats, like Harry or Dumbledore. Her eyes opened wide. Harry. "Where's Harry, then?" She shot out. "That's what we should be thinking of. If this is some kind of trap to draw him out, he's probably in bigger danger than us. When was the last time you saw him?" Ron's eyes narrowed at the nervous edge to her voice. That worried about Harry, was she? How cozy. It didn't matter if that stupid git Ron was boiling to death right in front of her. As long as Harry was okay, we can all rest easy in our beds. "Oh, of course you'd worry about poor Harry," he snarled. "Of course." Hermione was confused by the accusation she heard in Ron's voice, and didn't half like it. "He's our best friend and he's got a really powerful Dark Wizard trying to kill him on a fairly regular basis. Where did you see him last?" "Some of us have better things to do then follow the comings and goings of the Great Harry Potter," he retorted immediately. "It's hard to believe, I know, seeing as how he's so dreamy and perfect and rich and a Champion and See-" "What's wrong with you? You say those things like they're bad. Harry works hard at Quidditch, and he never wanted to be a Champion. I thought you two were past that whole thing. I mean, after the first task." "I know he didn't put his name in the Goblet, Hermione. I don't need you to tell me. I'm the one sitting at the smart table, after all. Why don't you trot on back to the 'hard working' section?" He smirked patronizingly. Hermione gave an inarticulate squeak, too furious to form words. After a second Ron seemed to register exactly what he had said and was torn between apologizing and running for his life. Before he could do either, the sound of footsteps turned their attention to the humongous doors. "Sorry," said a familiar voice. "But I didn't catch your name." They looked at each other. "Harry." Ron was on his feet in an instant and they ran towards the door, their anger forgotten. They were two yards away when the doors swung open again, revealing the strange man and a slightly confused, but ever polite Harry. "You can call me the Usher, if you like," the man was saying as he gestured the doors shut behind him. With a smile and nod at the other two teenagers, the Usher placed a hand on Harry's shoulder and tried to steer him towards the House tables. Harry had caught sight of his friends, however, and shook off the guiding hand. "Ron! Hermione! You're here to," he mused, stepping towards them. "Yes, yes. We're all here now," his escort said quickly. "You must all have a seat, though. It's much too hot to be standing about." The room suddenly seemed to jump ten degrees in temperature. Sweat streamed in little rivers down the foreheads of the trio, and Ron began to wonder if it wouldn't be better to put out the Jack o' Lanterns by the Slytherin table, as they weren't using it anyway and had enough light, really, as it was. He had just collapsed into a chair at the nearest table (Ravenclaw) and Hermione had fallen back onto the seat closest to her (a Hufflepuff, but hadn't she been right next to him a second ago? ) when the Usher pulled out a seat at Slytherin table, and held it for Harry. Harry stared at the man blankly. "I'm not sitting in Malfoy's chair," he blurted, forgetting his manners. He turned towards the Gryffindor table.
"Of course," the Usher replied apologetically. He slid Draco Malfoy's customary seat back, and pulled the seat next to it out. "There you go." Harry glanced around at the rest of the Hall, took in Hermione at Hufflepuff, Ron at Ravenclaw, and the empty Gryffindor table. Slowly, he turned his eyes back to the Usher, looked at him for a wordless moment, then took the seat offered him. The Usher smiled. "Well, now everyone's settled, I'll leave you to it. Mister Weasley has my bell, if any emergencies come up. Farewell." He bowed at them all and walked out. The three friends looked at each other from their separate tables as the heavy clap of the boors shutting echoed through the hazy room. "Well, this is rather uncomfortable," Harry mused, turning his gaze away and running his sleeve across his forehead.
Notes: Ah, so much for Act IV. At least it's an update! Act V: The Green Eyed will be out much MUCH sooner than this was, I swear!