Disclaimer: I own Imogen, Elena, and any of the Founders' heirs/ chosen that show up in this chapter. Rowling owns the canon characters. Philip Pullman owns the ideas that I set forth in this chapter. I've modified them a bit, but there you have it. "Silang Mabele" is a saying of the amaXhosa in South Africa that means "crush the corn," or "let's get to work." As you might have guessed (maybe I have mentioned it—not sure) Arabella is South African. The compass charm/ portkey and the "Domi" incantation belong to soupofthedaysara and her story The Book of Jude. The remembrance of Hagrid comes from The Goblet Of Fire chapter 37, "The Beginning." The quote, "So she continued in the prolonged twilight…as long as her strength and breath lasted," comes from Primo Levi's The Reawakening.'
Author's Note: Don't hate Harry yet. He has a chance to redeem himself still.
Chapter Twelve
Too Dead To Cry
"Wish I was too dead to cry
My self-affliction fades
Stones to throw at my creator
Masochists to which I cater
You don't need to bother
I don't need to be
I'll keep slipping farther
But once I hold on
I won't let go 'till it bleeds…"
Corey Taylor: 'Bother'
"Men, that's all…they've undergone intercision. They have no daemons [souls], so they have no fear and no imagination and no free will, and they'll fight till they're torn apart."
Marisa Coulter, Chapter Nine: Theft, 'The Subtle Knife' by Philip Pullman.
Imogen entered the office unceremoniously, flinging a length of black fabric over her shoulder.
Arabella looked away from Sirius whom she'd been arguing in customary fashion with, and eyed Imogen with a mixture of surprise and relief.
"Let's do this," Imogen said, walking past the two of them and into the back room.
She was pulling her gray sweater over her head when someone came into the room. She heard the door open and shut behind her. "I swear, I'm getting dressed in here. So leave if you don't want a show."
"What happened to the boy?" She heard Arabella's voice muffled through the sweater over her head.
She pulled it off angrily, static stuck her hair in wild directions. She glared at Arabella who smiled back kindly. It was hard to look intimidating when you were small for your age and had a head of statically charged hair. "Who?" Imogen asked, being vague on purpose.
"The one you were willing to go to prison for," Arabella answered, smoothing her hair down in a motherly fashion.
Imogen pulled away and glared, fighting tears. There would be no more tears. She would teach herself not to feel. She'd had enough of feeling. It only brought pain. Loving people only brought pain. "He didn't want me," she said in a mouse's voice. Her lip trembled but she fought emotion bravely. She slid the long and elegant material over her head, a dress of the darkest silk. It was something that Elena would wear.
Arabella stared at Imogen in silence. Imogen ignored her and undid her trousers, slipping them off under the dress that was far too long for her. She surveyed her reflection with disgust. She had a bruised cheek and looked scrawny under the lengths of silk she wore.
"Then he's an idiot," Arabella concluded, fishing two small pills from her pocket and handing them to Imogen.
Imogen took them with a look of defeat. She popped one immediately and set the other one under a stone in her intricate bracelet. It took only a matter of seconds for Imogen to turn into Elena Vassikin, a relatively painless process compared to the archaic potion form.
She surveyed herself in the mirror one final time, pleased for once to see that the dress now fit. She frowned. Under her breath, Arabella heard her hiss, "What a fucking whore. But this dress is fabulous."
She turned to Arabella who had a half smile on her face. "Is there anything you can do about this?" she asked, pointing to her marred cheek. "Or are you just going to laugh at me?"
Arabella pulled her wand from under her robes and moved toward her, taking her chin gently in one hand, tilting her cheek to the light, Arabella charmed the grayish area to match the rest of her porcelain complexion. "Are you going to tell me who gave you that? Who's been hitting you, Imogen?"
"Are you asking because you care? I doubt it." Imogen moved away from her, favoring her with a distrusting stare.
"How did it happen?"
"Would you believe me if I told you it was a riding accident? I smacked into a tree." Imogen bent to slip her shoes on.
"You're not a clumsy person. Have you seen your father? Is that from him?" Arabella folded her arms in front of her.
"No," Imogen said simply, flinging the door open wide. She took her Time-Turner and wrapped the fine gold chain around it carefully, sticking it down the front of her dress. There was really no other place to put it. She stowed her wand in the band of her stockings, lifting her dress provocatively over one leg as she did so. She smiled slightly at the stunned looks that this gesture elicited from the men in the room. Sirius and Corbin both stared with their mouths open.
Pushing Imogen past the drooling men, Arabella called after them, "Silang Mabele, people. You have work to do."
She shut the door after Imogen and scoffed, "Men."
"I enjoyed that," Imogen admitted.
"You should only be about an hour or so." Arabella brought out a small silver chain with a compass-like charm on the end of it. "Use this to come back. It will transport you home. Should anything happen and you need to get out of there quickly, just say the incantation "Domi" and it will bring you back to me. Got it?" Arabella's commands had a nervous edge to them.
Imogen resented this nervousness. It either meant that she thought Imogen was going to arse things up, or that she thought it was going to be dangerous. Of course it was going to be dangerous, but it wasn't Arabella who should be worrying. Yet, Imogen wasn't nervous. How many times had she spied on Lucius Malfoy? Too many to count. She knew if she were found out she would die. He would kill her outright. For some reason, Imogen wasn't afraid. She was resigned. After all, a wise man put it best when he said, "Do every act as if it were your last." And it very well might be her last, she thought.
"Domi," Imogen said, placing the chain around her neck. The silver went well with the cut and color of the dress. "Home," she whispered, looking to Arabella one last time. "I don't have a home."
She produced her wand and Apparated.
Arabella stood there for the longest second, trying to justify what she had just done. It was for Peter. She had to keep telling herself, I'm doing this for Peter.
She went back inside and scoffed openly. Both Sirius and Corbin were staring at the door where she and Imogen had just passed. "Oh honestly, you two!"
"Was that…Elena Vassikin?" Sirius said, his brow furrowing in confusion.
"Yes. And no," Arabella answered vaguely. She knew this would take a lot of explaining. She didn't have the energy for it today.
"Where is Imogen?" Sirius asked, nearing her cautiously. He began to catch on. "Arabella, you didn't just do what I think you did?"
"What's that?" Arabella asked, collapsing at her desk.
"He's…he'll…I can't believe you!" Sirius was yelling. "Is there a way to get to her if something goes wrong? How do you know he won't suspect her right off?"
"She's fine, Sirius. She has a portkey. She can get back."
"It's still not safe. She's fourteen. She's virtually helpless," Sirius was saying, gesturing frantically as if he were trying to convince a jury.
"That girl is anything but helpless and she's our last hope," Arabella said, affecting an unconcerned air.
"I have to get to the school. Snape has something he wants to discuss with me." He pointed threateningly at Arabella. "We'll continue this discussion later. This is her last job. She's going back to school and you are going to leave her alone."
"Yeah, yeah." Arabella dismissed his threats as he exited the building with a slam of the door.
***
Ginny had left Gabriel with Ron and Hermione and went in search of Harry. She knew he had damaged things before. But this was damn near irreparable. Ginny didn't want to be the cause of it, and she knew Lucy wouldn't want to be either.
She saw him ahead of her on the path. She didn't run after him as it was cold and she was already coughing enough as it was. She knew she would catch up to him inside.
And she did eventually catch him up. In his dorm room, Harry retreated to hide. Ginny found him and refused to be dismissed.
"What have you done, Harry?" Ginny asked, standing in the doorway of his room. Everyone else was still in town and so there was no fear of interruption. Ginny didn't care if someone had interrupted. She would speak her piece regardless.
"I didn't want to hurt her. She isn't…I'm not." Harry was struggling for an explanation. "I didn't want to hurt her," he repeated.
"You have," Ginny answered, her voice firm with the slightest edge to it. "Why are you doing this to yourself?"
"I don't see you following your advice. Where is Malfoy?" Harry snapped back, laying down and covering is head with a pillow.
She bit back her reprimand. There's no way he could have known what had taken place the night before. Draco was gone—and for other reasons than his relationship with her. "That's different," she said simply.
"Harry, she loves you and you trampled all over her."
"I did not. I saved her from getting hurt later. I can't get involved with her. Everyone I love—," he broke off, sitting up and glaring at Ginny.
"Everyone you love is punished for loving you, is that what you were going to say?" Ginny asked in a cold tone. "That's crap, Harry."
"Pardon?" Harry asked, surprised by Ginny's harsh frankness.
"I used to think the same thing," Ginny admitted. "It's why I freaked out that time you kissed me, on Christmas. Do you remember that?"
"Of course I do," Harry said, a little more gently, disarmed for the moment.
"I was seeing things then, visions. The visions involved you and other people I loved. I realized after the fact that it didn't matter if you were near me, loved me. Fate is blind to love and other emotions. It claims what it will when the time comes." She paused, nearing him slowly. "I didn't see Lucy's death in time. She was gone by the time I saw. You can't anticipate the future and you can't change it. Just like the past. You can only live the present, Harry. If you don't, you have no life at all."
Harry smiled, "You sound like Dumbledore."
Ginny blushed at the compliment. "I still love you. No matter what kind of danger that exposes me to. The same goes for my brother and Hermione. They'd do anything for you. I suspect Imogen would do the same, if you gave her the chance."
"I do love her. But I don't want her to have to experience the kind of loss I have. It hurts too much. I want to save her from that," Harry admitted, looking away from Ginny and sighing a martyred and confused sigh.
"It's not your decision to make, Harry. It's hers. You couldn't make that decision for me. I'm still here. Ron's still here, so is Hermione. I think she would pick you over a solitary, painless life. Besides, I don't think she's a stranger to loss and pain anyway. She is stronger than you think she is."
Harry nodded. "I've been selfish. I don't expect her to forgive or trust me now."
"You'd be surprised what love forgives, Harry," Ginny said with the authority of someone who knew. "But she's left school. I don't know where she went. Do you have any idea?"
Harry looked stricken by this new information. "She didn't say where she was going? It was because of me. Because of what I said, isn't it?"
Ginny shrugged. "I don't know. She was upset, but I don't think it had anything to do with you. She had planned to leave before this, but for some reason decided to stay." She sat on the bed next to him.
"I've lost her, haven't I?"
"I don't know, Harry," Ginny said as he collapsed with his head on Ginny's shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him and held him, happy to be there for him as he had often been for her. She was ever eager to return the favor.
"I'm a fool," Harry sighed.
"We all are," Ginny said, resting her head on top of his.
***
Imogen knew exactly where to find him. She Apparated directly to the family estate on the Spanish coast. Lucius Malfoy's wealth in land alone was astonishing. But she knew that this would be his ideal base of operation as the governments in this country were the best at turning a blind eye on his ventures.
But she was wholly unprepared for what would greet or assail her there. At first, as she appeared in the entrance hall, dusty and stagnant from disuse, the silence was eerie. She called out to anyone who might hear her. When there was no answer she began to think that she had estimated her subject wrong. She lowered the hood of her velvet traveling cloak and walked cautiously down the hall. She felt her heart pounding against her ribs with some unnamed fear.
She turned a corner and stepped into a library, smaller than that of Malfoy Manor, but still sizable. There was a fire lit in the gilt fireplace along the far wall. The desk looked as though it had been used recently. Imogen sighed a little, she had gotten the right location at least. But where was Lucius?
"Hello, pet," a smooth voice called in an alarming proximity to her neck. The hairs stood up where his breath brushed slightly over her skin. He moved like a jungle cat. She shouldn't have forgotten this. It was stupid of her to leave her back exposed like that. She warned herself to take more precaution.
He moved to take her cloak from her, briefly admiring her attire underneath. "Did I give you that? It looks familiar."
Imogen smiled and held her arms out at her sides, and spun around so he could see the front. In her expertly spoken Russian accent she said, "You must have then. Do you like it?"
"Very much," he smiled, throwing her cloak over the nearest chair. "Tell me, pet. Where have you been all this time?"
"Why? Did you miss me, Lucius?" she asked, favoring him with a playful smile.
"Hardly. But, now that you are here, I'm interested in knowing what you've been up to and why you are back." He circled her slowly, moving one long finger down her exposed back to the low silk hem line of her dress that draped her shoulders elegantly.
Imogen suppressed a disgusted shudder. What had she expected in returning as Lucius' mistress?
"Finalizing plans with Igor," she answered with a bored shrug. She moved as nonchalantly as she could from his touch and walked to the center of the room where she turned and favored him with a scrutinizing gaze. "You look older since the last time I saw you," she said finally. She sat gracefully on the sofa and turned her gaze to the fire, hoping that a thinly veiled insult would distract him from her flimsy story. She hadn't gotten that far along in planning. She had no idea what she would say when he asked why she was here or what she wanted.
She certainly didn't want a tour of his bedchambers, so what else would Elena be after? She thought quickly.
"Igor. What is that idiot brother of yours up to?" Lucius asked, perching himself on the edge of the desk in front of her.
Defiantly, she looked back to him and answered, "The same idiot plans as always. He wants to over throw the government, sell heat to the people, introduce a new dictatorship under his sole control."
"Why does world domination suddenly sound like an idiot plan to you?" Lucius asked, looking down his nose at her. She stood. He would not treat her liked that. Elena never allowed it.
She shrugged, "Igor's plan is an idiot one. Show me something that would change my mind," she challenged.
He was on his feet and across the room in one swift motion. He grabbed her forcefully by her bare arms, his manicured nails digging into the flesh. "I have a project underway that would surprise and excite you, leave you in no doubt of my power and genius," Lucius said, inches from her face. She held his stare challengingly.
That was all too easy. Playing to his ego. Lucius Malfoy would claim that he had no weaknesses. Imogen knew of only this one, but it was glaring.
"I'll show you, pet. That is, if you convince me that you are still trustworthy." He released her. His hand went up to her throat and lingered on the silver chain there. Moving his fingers slowly to her neck, he wrapped his hand around her throat but didn't apply pressure—yet.
"What is your will, lord?" Imogen said, stiffening at this all too familiar threat.
"Tell me what your brother plans." He smiled, delighting in the compromising position he now held her in.
"I never inform on my brother, no matter if he is a fool or not," she said with conviction. Lucius squeezed, applying even, constricting pressure to her air flow. She clenched her jaws and held his glare unmoving. Imogen knew the limits of what she could endure. This was nothing. She needed to act as Elena would. She was always fiercely protective of her brother, Igor Karkaroff. Imogen knew that she shouldn't give in too soon. She would be suspected.
"Yes, but you killed your husband to be with me. I merely ask you to give me one tiny piece of information on your brother's intentions. We needn't go nearly that far where he's concerned." Lucius had an air of mock pleading, yet he pleaded for nothing. He asked and got—or killed.
"My husband was boring me. Igor is an endless form of amusement," Imogen just managed. Her air supply was growing short.
"Even so," he said with an iron tone and an even harder grip.
"He plans an attack on the Kremlin for the first of December. He has no plans outside of Russia, Lucius. He will be no threat, I assure you," Imogen lied. She hoped it was convincing. She really wanted to breath again.
"I know that he is of no threat to me. He only lives through my good graces. Let him stage his pathetic revolution in his godforsaken country. I just wanted to know where your loyalties lie." He threw Imogen roughly back on the sofa and made to exit the library. "Now, I'll show you what I've been up to."
Imogen massaged her throat, but pushed herself off of the sofa to follow him, trying her hardest to catch her breath along the way.
She wrapped her cloak around her, feeling more exposed than she ever had. Following silently, she allowed herself to be led into the bowels of the ancient fortress. This place was equipped with one of the most extensive labyrinths of dungeons and torture chambers on the continent, but were known to very few.
Her breath caught in her already stressed throat as she came into the light of the main room. She felt a shiver of horror like none she'd ever felt before.
Lined along the dank and dripping walls of the low room off the main corridor, were iron cages centuries old. Inside these cages were hundreds of children, some dark and obviously Eastern European, others pale and blond coming from the Northern Islands. He had been collecting children from all over the continent just as Arabella had suspected.
She felt Lucius' hand snake around her waist as her drew her closer and whispered in her ear, "Impressed, my pet?" He brushed a stray curl away from her neck with his nose, kissing her ear. She restrained herself from pulling away. It was all of the self composure that remained to her not to strike him and run away while she had the chance. "Don't be," he continued, "These are the children that haven't undergone the…processes yet."
She hardly knew where he had guided her when she came to another, larger room. It was furiously cold in this room and she immediately knew why. Dementors.
He was using dementors to suck the souls from children. But why?
She felt an uncontrollable flood of despair and sadness wash over her. Her mind was filled with many horrific scenes of her past. One in particular struck her and dragged her deeper into her own misery.
She was the one to find him, lying on the floor of her room. There were syringes lying on the floor around him. He wasn't moving and was hardly breathing. She was of little help in her condition. She had been home from the hospital only a little over a month. That was her morphine that he had pumped into his veins, an alarming amount.
She cursed and shouted for her mother. She couldn't do anything for him. She could hardly move. She was helpless to stop his dying. She thought for sure it was already too late. Why had he wanted to leave her? She became angry.
When her mother came in her reaction was much the same. She was frantic to find her son so near death, death by his own hands. She had never forgiven their father for driving him to this. His attack on her was forgivable, she had lived. If Draco were to die, it would be the end of her toleration of him. Her child meant more than her husband. Her son meant more. Her daughter was only second to him.
She found his note, his explanation of why he had tried to leave. Without reading it she rent it to pieces and threw it out the window, watching it flutter to the ground on the late summer breeze.
The sick despair dragged her down. She barely felt the impact her head had made with the cold stone floor.
"Why did you try to leave me?" she asked with a sharp edge once he had come back to consciousness. "I couldn't go on without you."
"Yes, you can," Draco answered groggily. "You're stronger than you think you are. I'm weaker than you. I can't fight this."
She felt hot tears coming into her eyes. "You have to fight. I need you."
"I'll not be like him. I won't take his mark. I can't," Draco said, sitting up and taking her hand.
"Mother has stopped him for now. Fight another day, but don't ever leave me. Promise me you won't."
She saw Draco searching her eyes. She was unrelenting on this point. "I promise I won't leave you again."
She felt somewhere deep down that he would not be able to keep this promise.
***
"It was definitely Lucius Malfoy that was behind Gisella Bertrand's death." Sirius sat in Severus Snape's office fighting to gain control of his patience, endeavoring to maintain some professionalism in spite of the open threats and taunts of his former classmate.
"And you have no idea where Draco might have gone or for what reason specifically?" Snape asked, favoring Sirius with an odd stare, suspicion mixed with a little of the purely curious and a little genuine worry for his missing student.
"No, Ella never mentioned that there might be anything bothering him, other than the grief of losing his sister. She shed some light on the rash of kidnappings that we have been following. She was sure that Lucius was behind it and I'm beginning to believe her."
"As you should. When it comes to that man, she knows what she's talking about." Snape took a piece of paper off of the top of his desk, a letter, and scanned it. He changed topic suddenly and asked, "Do you know of a particular student here? One in my house, actually. Imogen Spencer?"
Sirius' eyes were wide. "Yes, I do. Why?"
"Draco mentioned her in connection to his leaving. He mentioned that he feared for her as well as Miss Weasley." He kept his eyes to the paper, but noted the surprise in Sirius' voice.
"Ginny? What does she have to do with any of this?" Sirius asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.
Snape waved the letter in his hand. "Young Mr. Malfoy wrote to her before he left. He gave a vague interest in their safety as his reason for leaving school. I understand his fear for Miss Weasley. She has been hunted by them since her birth. Are you aware of the Chamber of Secrets incident in her first year?" His voice was measured and patient. He apparently liked explaining things to Sirius. Having an upper hand. Knowing things that the other man didn't.
"Harry's second year, yes. She almost died, is that right?" Sirius asked, sitting up.
"Yes, quite right. Only, as I have suspected for sometime, it was not her death that they were after—," he began but was cut off by Sirius.
"Yes, Voldemort was using her to get to Harry."
"Not every bloody thing is about Potter," Snape shouted, pounding an authoritative fist on his desk. "He wanted her abilities. When he failed, he tried again, using her blood to restore him to his body while they were in Azkaban." His expression fell. "Sadly, I could not save her from his predations then. But I won't fail again. That is why I must know how Miss Spencer is involved. Is she being used? Do you know if she is in danger? I must know, Black."
"The truth is, at the moment she is very much in danger. Arabella has been using her as a spy on the Minister. She has been his aide all term." Sirius chanced a look at Snape who was sitting with quiet astonishment on his face.
He continued, "She is undercover as Elena Vassikin at the moment. Arabella's keen idea."
Snape stood, sending his heavy leather chair flying into the wall behind him. "She's what? What in the name of Christ is wrong with you people? You sent a child after Lucius Malfoy disguised as his assassin and mistress?"
"Arabella did it without my knowing. I would have stopped her. She assures me that she is quite safe." Sirius paused and against his better judgment admitted, "Although, with Peter's execution nearing, she hasn't been thinking all that clearly. I suppose she wanted Imogen to retrieve anything that would help in Peter's case. She's convinced that Malfoy knows something."
Snape rounded his desk urgently. "I must speak to the Headmaster immediately."
"Do you think Imogen might be in trouble?" Sirius asked, noting the frantic behavior of the Potions Master.
"It's imperative, Black. Lucius Malfoy isn't exactly know for his understanding and care of children. He's killed his daughter. What makes you think Miss Spencer will be any different? And he is renowned for smelling out spies." They exchanged a glance but the comments remained unsaid between them.
They both hurried out of the dungeon office and up to speak to Dumbledore before dinner began.
***
Imogen awoke to the cold touch of Lucius' hand on her cheek. She sat up, fighting a dizzy feeling.
His cruel, playful laughter rung painfully in her ears. "Careful. You had quite a nasty bump to the head. Honestly, had I know that you had turned into such a delicate flower, I would not have brought you down there."
Imogen jerked her face angrily away from his touch. "I'm not delicate. You might have warned me that you were using dementors though. Put me on my guard," she snapped, sitting up on the sofa of the library.
"Delicacy is a decided attraction, pet," Lucius said, running a graceful finger down her shoulder.
"Then look elsewhere for such an attraction," she snapped again, jerking away from him. "I'm no flower. I was merely unprepared," Imogen lied. She stood and wavered a bit.
Lucius laughed and stood up beside her, steadying her with a hand to her shoulder. "Yes, well. Come with me there is more to show you."
He took her hand and produced his wand, Apparating them to a place she recognized, a place she had been that morning, a place she never wanted nor expected to see again. The chapel at the edge of Hogsmeade. The place was deserted this late in the afternoon. Lucius must have known that, she thought.
He led her inside, lighting his wand. It wasn't nearly as beautiful on the inside as she hoped it was. It dripped and smelled of rotting wood. Just as well. This place held no magic for her. Deceivingly beautiful on the outside, rotten and broken on the inside. She was fast learning that most things turned out this way.
She followed wordlessly as Lucius descended a number of steps into the lower reaches of the structure. There were crypts all around her. She was free to shudder all she wanted as Lucius wouldn't suspect her in the dark. She pulled her cloak around her. It was almost as cold down here as it was when dementors were present.
Lucius brought out a small gold chain from inside the collar of his shirt. A Time-Turner. That was why he needed the book that he had Draco take from her. Or was it something else that he needed from the book?
She stayed back out of the light as he began searching for something. As she backed away, her foot crunched against something on the ground. She bent to examine it. It was a letter written on oilskin in an ancient and delicate hand. What was astonishing was the subject that it had been addressed to. The letter said in a clearly feminine hand, Virginia. She was in no doubt to whom this letter was intended to reach. She shoved it in the pocket of her cloak and stood quickly as Lucius turned to her. He had maneuvered the door of a secret passage open somehow. Perhaps this was the way that he was moving undetected through the inner bailey of Hufflepuff castle, she thought, a secret entryway.
"Come," he demanded, holding a hand out to her which she took. Pulling her closer to him, he placed the fine chain around the both of their necks.
Out in the clean air of a hundred years ago, Imogen breathed deeply, composing herself for what she knew was to follow. She would meet Eowyn.
She noticed with some alarm the number of men, huge men, in the surcoat of the House of Slytherin. She felt the ominous presence of an oncoming battle. And when it did come, it would be huge.
"What have you brought me today, Lucius?" a playful, airy voice called to them across the market street. It was the heir of Slytherin, Eowyn.
Imogen looked across the way and saw with some surprise that Faramir was at the house that she had seen in the Pensieve with Ginny. She recalled the scene with perfect clarity, the smoking ruins and slaughtered inhabitants. But he was not there. Neither had the infant been there. She remembered specifically that there was only the older girl and boy. This must be Faramir's family. Would they die before all of this was over? Who would want to kill a family of humble potters? Her eyes met him and there was an air of recollection in his. He averted them immediately as he noticed her attire.
She flushed with embarrassment. She would appear scantily clad for someone in the middle ages. If she were not with someone capable of her protection, she would certainly have been killed for her brazen lack of clothing.
She pulled her cloak tighter around her and reminded herself to take more care in blending in. She moved closer to Lucius and hid behind him, not noticing the venomous look that Eowyn had favored her with.
"She has nothing to do with you. She is here on my invitation. I wish to show her our improvements." Lucius looked down his nose at her in that superior way he had. "It is nearly complete. You will have your army in two week's time, no less."
"Perfect," Eowyn squealed, clapping her hands together like a spoiled child. "I have found my father's plan. They key is a particular child. His, sadly, died in the experiments to open the rip in the fabric." she smiled. "But I have made another one."
Lucius nodded. He turned to Imogen who walked silently beside them, taking in everything she heard. "I have plans for a pure race, a society living wholly separate from this world here, this tainted and marred world. There is no hope for it." He smiled down at her. "We will rule the whole of it without threat from the troublesome Ministry or interference from the Muggle scum that plagues our current society."
"What is your plan, lord?" Imogen asked, infusing enough humility into her voice to do his ego the justice that he thought it deserved.
"My clever Eowyn here has toiled endlessly to recover her father's great work. A rip in the fabric of the universe. He found the key to it when he was experimenting with immortality on a child subject. The child, subsequently became the key to another universe. One uninhabited, untainted."
He turned to the woman on his right hand side. "Which one is it?"
Eowyn's deep red lips parted into a devilish smile. She pointed to the hut that had filled Imogen's thoughts, the one Faramir's family had inhabited. "The smallest child. His name is Gabriel. You must find his counterpart in your world. It will do you no good to take this one, he is too young."
Lucius nodded like he knew what this meant. Imogen was lost and helpless to understand. Did they mean Harry? Was he in danger yet again?
She glanced back at them as her party retreated through the gates of the castle and to the river. She caught Faramir's stare one last time and felt for sure that he knew who she was.
"And in exchange for all of this," Lucius continued his explanation. "All young Eowyn wished for was an army that could not be defeated."
"But why children?" Imogen asked, forgetting for a moment that she had a part to play. She was afraid that she had infused too much passion into her voice, too much worry. Lucius didn't seem to notice.
He exchanged a knowing smile with Eowyn who said finally, "I must be off. Remember, Lucius dear, find his counterpart in your world and you shall have the key." She held Imogen's gaze and leaned up to kiss Lucius who was all too happy to oblige.
Imogen felt a brief twinge of sympathy for Elena who was dead. Is this what she thought was love? Did she always have to put up with his womanizing? Would Elena have even cared?
Lucius watched Eowyn retreat and led Imogen down to the river. "They have souls unlike those of adults. They are blameless, pure. It does not destroy their will, their ability to function as it does adults. Their will is restored to another. Someone can control them and they will fight until they are torn apart. They are loyal and all powerful. No one can stand up to that kind of opposition. Not even the disciplined armies of Ravenclaw and Gryffindor.
Imogen nodded and effected a cruel smile to cover her mounting terror.
It was then that she saw Mungo and Faramir approaching.
"Who are you, sir?" Mungo asked. "I have seen you walking the battlements of the mill many times with Lady Eowyn."
"She is hardly a lady and she is helping me with something that is no affair of yours." Lucius turned to face the two of them.
"Refrain from speaking of her thus, sir. She is of noble blood and therefore you will watch your tongue." Faramir spoke forcefully for his size. Lucius was nearly a head taller than him. Faramir was no older than Harry, but Imogen was in no doubt of his skill with the sword. She was occupied with deciding who would come out on top in a duel—Lucius was no less experienced.
Mungo turned his gaze on Imogen as Faramir and Lucius argued.
"I know you, lady," he said. The color of his face changed into a white that was alarming as he looked closer and saw the same something that Faramir had. Imogen wondered faintly what had given her away. "Are you a traitor then?" he asked. Imogen swallowed hard.
"Yes, were are both here in search of riches and unnatural long life," Lucius sneered, nearing Faramir menacingly. Faramir reached for his sword, the sword of Gryffindor, but was stayed by Mungo.
"You speak blasphemy, sir," Mungo said, raising his chin defiantly.
"Fluently," Lucius said with a wicked smile.
"Tell me what your business is with the Lady Eowyn," Mungo demanded.
"She goes there, sir. Why do you not inquire of her what her business is with me?" Lucius said, subverting further conversation.
Faramir backed down slowly and turned to walk away. He stopped at the gates to observe Mungo who headed after Eowyn and then he watched as the hooded monk grabbed the traitorous raven-haired girl and forcefully hauled her into the forging mill.
"How is it that Mungo Hufflepuff and the squire of Godric Gryffindor know who you are?" Lucius hissed when they were safely inside the mill. He didn't allow her the chance to answer, but struck her hard across the face, causing her nose to bleed. "Been spying on me, have you?" He hit her again across her already bruised cheek.
"No, lord. You have it all wrong," Imogen begged, reaching for her necklace with the portkey on it.
Lucius beat her to it, savagely ripping it from her neck, she felt the skin on the back of her neck rip with the force of the chain. She let out a cry but bit it back in the next instant. "What is this? A portkey?" he asked, crushing it under his boot. "Informing, are you?"
She shook her head pathetically. She was trapped now. He considered her for another moment, staring proudly at his handiwork of cuts and bruises to her face. He held her tight in strong hands but she made no effort to get away. "No, it's a disguise is it?" His eyes lit with realization. "I've seen you here before. You are that little wretch that was spying on me with Weasley. Imogen Spencer, you'll be a thorn in my side no longer."
He slammed her hard into the opposite wall where she connected with a sconce on the wall that held a candle. It hit her between the neck and the shoulder. Imogen heard as well as felt a bone snap. She fell to the ground in excruciating but familiar pain.
He kicked her hard in her midsection and caused the breath to be knocked out of her. "Get up, you sad wretch. You've asked for this."
She did so laboriously. She stood to face him, chest heaving as she struggled to catch her breath. "The Ministry will be onto you in a heartbeat."
He laugh and struck her again, causing her to crash into the wall once more, the same sconce catching her between the shoulder blades this time.
"They are in my pocket. You understand that I'm going to have to kill you, now. I can't have you running back to the do-gooders with all of this information I've given you." Lucius added as he watched her sink to the ground again, a myriad of bruises, broken bones and blood. He smiled down at her, removing his wand from an inner pocket of his robes.
"But before I kill you, I would like to know what you have done with Elena," he asked curiously, aiming his wand between her eyes for effect.
"I killed her," Imogen answered defiantly.
Lucius laughed as he thought that she was joking. "Finite Incantantem!" he said.
Imogen was afraid of this. The one side effect to her pill form of Polyjuice was that it acted more like a charm than a potion. Potions, of course could not be removed with this charm. Hers could.
He was astonished at the person who looked up at him as her disguise melted away. It wasn't the face of the nuisance Imogen Spencer but that of his daughter, dead for many months now.
"Lucilla," Lucius said, endeavoring to mask his astonishment. "Very clever series of disguises. I must say that I am surprised to see you, if not glad or relieved. Why won't you die?"
Lucy set her chin in insolent defiance. She would not tell. Now she was really trapped. She couldn't even walk. She knew he would kill her now.
"The guard at Ravenclaw's castle, Elena? You killed them? Impressive!" Lucius was looking at her, admiringly. It was a way in which she was unused to being regarded by her father and she squirmed a bit under his gaze. "You devious creature. I believe I might have been wrong about you. I was unaware that you were capable of such deeds. Your mother would be sorely disappointed to see how you've turned out."
The words had their intended effect. They stung like barbs. She winced. It was the truth. "Go on, kill me," she said, her fingers went up to the bracelet that she wore on the wrist behind her back. She remembered the Time-Turner. She had a plan.
"Oh no, you've become too valuable. I shall use you instead, if you don't mind," Lucius said with a Cheshire Cat's grin.
"I do mind actually," Lucy snapped back.
Lucius bent and struck her hard across the face again. This blow had a dizzying effect and she fought for consciousness. "You'll learn some respect first."
Before Lucius had bent to retrieve her and slip his Time-Turner around her neck, she produced her own to his great surprise.
She ended up in the forest, just outside of the ruins. It was growing dark and she knew she was no more safe here than with her father. She fumbled for her bracelet and swallowed one of the pills that would turn her into Imogen, though she was unsure if she could walk either way. Her spine throbbed between her shoulder blades and her breathing was coming harder. The place where her father had kicked her, just below the ribs was stiff with pain.
But she stood and kicked her shoes off to run better. She headed in what she thought was the direction of the school.
She continued in the prolonged twilight of the setting sun until it was almost night, a prey now to the utter panic, to the age-old fear of the dark, the forest and the unknown. Despite her worries, she felt a violent impulse to rush headlong in any direction and to continue running so long as her strength and breath lasted. But both gave out as she reached the edge of the forest. Collapsing over a tree root, she came crashing to the ground, falling on the tree root that cut into her side. She heard a familiar snap and knew that she had broken one of her ribs.
Spots danced in front of her vision and merged with the stationary dot that was the moon. Everything went black as she laid there at the edge of the forest, unconscious and helpless, but safe from her father for the moment.
***
"No good sittin' worryin' abou' it," he said, "What's comin' will come, an' we'll meet it when it does. Dumbledore told me wha' you did, Harry."
Hagrid's chest swelled as he looked at Harry.
"Yeh did as much as yer father would've done, an' I can' give yeh no higher praise than that."
Harry looked around the dusty cabin that his first and fondest friend used to inhabit. He looked down at Fang and sighed. "Yeah, I miss him too."
He pushed the door open, reluctant to leave the old hut and it's fond memories. Fang went out first and ran off into the distance barking wildly.
"What do you see, Fang?" Harry asked, locking the door behind him and following Hagrid's hound. "Jesus!" he whispered when he came close enough to see that it was a person and that they weren't moving. Upon closer inspection his terror rose. It was Imogen.
He dropped to his knees next to her while Fang barked loudly. He shook her and was relieved when she moved slightly. That relief vanished when she began to cough an alarming amount of blood.
***
Sirius looked out the window into the growing evening. The grounds had a thin fog rolling in from the lake and it looked as though it might snow.
He was listening to about only half of what Snape was saying. He had been ranting about insane former convicts and unfit guardians. Sirius knew that he was speaking mainly of him, but he regretted that he was also irate at Arabella. But, he justified, someone had to say something. Arabella's control of Imogen had gone way too far. He only prayed that she would come back safe and unharmed.
The irritating part was that Dumbledore seemed to be on Snape's side. But, Sirius rationalized, he did have the interests of his students first and foremost in his mind.
If Imogen were harmed in anyway, Sirius doubted he would ever forgive himself. He could have stopped this, he thought.
He focused on two small figures on the edge of the forest, a boy and a dog. Was Harry out on the grounds after dark? Sirius felt his parental reservations kick in. But they were replaced but pure terror when he noticed that the two were bent over another figure. At the bare limits of his sight, he could see that it was Imogen and that she wasn't moving.
He ran from the room without so much as an explanation, but the other's followed. Maybe they knew what kind of situation would whip him up into a frenzy like that. Maybe they didn't. His only concern was in getting to her while there was still time.
