Self-Writing Parchment
The scheme is afoot. The week of the betrayal of the discontented continues.
Sybil Trelawny's prophecy is unfolding.
Firstly, I abhor violence and abuse toward children – anyone actually. I know that the abuse if hard to read – it is hard to type – but thank you for sticking with me.
I'm sorry for any and all typos – I'm owning up to them.
~beaweasley2
~o 46 o~
Betrayal of the Discontented
~G~
"Harry this is the only way to get you into the Lestrange vault."
The mirror turned back to its silvery reflective surface. "Gah, he can be so stubborn," Ginny said to herself as she fell back onto her pillows.
A moment later her mirror vibrated again. She opened the compact to see Ron looking at her, his expression concerned – brotherly-annoyingly concern. "Hi, Ron."
"You and Malfoy?"
"No, I'm not with him – just friendly – well sometimes. He's changed, Ron, and he's become someone I – well, trust." She sat up, sitting cross-legged on her bed. The curtains were closed and warded for privacy. "You really have no idea how bad things are. We are constantly defending ourselves from hexes and curses. The Dark Lord's minions can literally do whatever they want to anyone they want to. The houses are divided – those who side with the Dark Lord and those who oppose him. Lines are drawn. You don't see it as I do – as Draco does."
"Ginny, we deal with it, we do. But – it's different, we're wanted men."
"I have been in the hospital almost every other day. I have been hexed, deformed, put under the Imperious and have had the Cruciatus used on me. I've – we've been fighting and trying to survive the worst conditions. I want an end to this. You have to stop hiding."
"Gin—"
"No, Ron. It's time. The Cup is not in the castle. Draco believes it's in his aunt's possession. I believe him."
Ron brushed his thick, wavy hair out of his eyes. It had gotten so long, and he had a weeks' worth of stubble growth. "Without having all the Horcruxes destroyed, Harry doesn't stand a chance." There was movement off to the side of the reflection behind him. Harry was listening.
"I want you to consider this: imagine that the Dark Lord has moved into our home. Our home, our possessions, our money and our very lives have been taken over, and any one of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters can stay in our bedrooms; Dad has been arrested and is a thin, worn-out version of himself, and our family has lost favor. Imagine mum having to apply bruise paste on her face to hide the abuse she's had to endure. Greyback and his pack buddies, Wormtail, and all the Dark Lord's chavvy thugs who now think they are so great, living in our house, eating our food, and taking whatever they want. That is what home has become for Draco. The prince he thought he was before is broken. The privileged life he enjoyed is gone – taken from him. If you were to see him now, you'd understand. He has even openly admitted to Hermione – to me – he wants this over. He wants his life back. He's changed."
"But, Ginny, we're talking about Draco Malfoy. He'll hand me over in a heartbeat and hope that solves his problems. Look how desperate his father was to get the prophecy," Harry said.
"Harry, he's willing to take you into his Aunt's vault if the Cup isn't in his house. He's searching for it in places we can't go otherwise without his help. We – he has worked out a plan, and I believe it will work." She wasn't getting him to understand. "I know there has been too many years of bitter rivalry between you, but he's spent months with Hermione, and she trusts him now."
There was silence, then muttering as Ron and Harry talked.
"Let me think on it," Harry said.
"Think fast," Ginny replied. "He wants to do this this Saturday."
"That's the day after tomorrow!" Harry exclaimed.
"But if it means getting the Cup and destroying one more Horcrux," Ron said to him. "I'll go with you."
"Ron, you can't. For the ruse to work it must be only Draco and Rabastan Lestrange who go into the vault. He can't pull it off with three, it would look suspicious. So, one of you must become Lestrange for an hour or so – and Hermione and I think it should be Harry."
The reflection showed the top of the tent as Harry and Ron argued.
Ginny waited, knowing neither would listen to her until one of them picked up the mirror again.
This was just how it was when they'd been at the Burrow planning their secret quest for the Horcruxes.
Harry picked up the mirror. "All right, I'll do it. But if he turns on me I'll kill him."
"Harry, if he turns on you – I'll kill him myself."
~H~
Friday was going by in a blur for Hermione. Arithmancy and Ancient Runes were two of her favorite subjects, and she'd have Transfiguration soon.
Dark Arts had been horrible, but Cillian had stayed with her in class and had not allow the others to curse her, much to Amycus' irritation. Besides, most of her friends were now in the Room of Requirement, so without targets to hurt, today had been a theory-centered study of Dark Art curses and spells, supposedly discussing their effects and the potential for permanent damage to the victims. Amycus hadn't been prepared for such a lecture or for leading such a discussion, and his lack of knowledge had become quite apparent. Hermione knew he knew how to cast them, and had used them, but hadn't cared about reversing the spells. Crabbe had been especially put out.
Ginny had not been at breakfast nor was she at lunch. Looking around discreetly she noted the big gaps at the Gryffindor table. Only the younger years were still occupying it, but they were subdued, ate quickly, and left as fast as they could. Hufflepuff's table was likewise depleted, most of the seventh-, sixth- and half the fifth-year students had disappeared or were in the hospital wing. Ravenclaw had fewer empty spots, and Slytherin less. Glenwynn and Felicia were still missing. There was little to no chatter, no boisterous laughter, and the clinking of silverware and goblets seemed louder in comparison.
Nott and Marek met Hermione at the doors, and they walked to Transfiguration class together. "Here. Glenwynn's and Felicia's mirrors," Nott said, as he bumped into her. "Don't take them out now. I'll tell you how to use them later."
"Okay," she said, walking between the boys the rest of the way. She slipped her and into her pocket and felt the compacts. They were larger than Ginny's.
She did pull one out to look at it once she was seated at her desk. They were different from the ones Ginny and their friends used. They were silver with a flower of five pear-shaped green bezel set stones on the top of the compact surrounded by more round green ones inset along the edge. She pressed one and the compact vibrated a bit. Nott turned to look at her with a scowl, so she put it away.
After class Nott showed her how to use it and which stones to touch to connect to the right person. "Give this one to Draco," Marek said and handed Hermione his. "I'm the bottom left one."
"Draco asked me for an exeat note to see his mum. It's a ruse. He's going to look for the Cup – it won't be there," Severus stated.
Shocked, Hermione stared at him dumbfounded; Severus knew about the Cup, but did he know it was a Horcrux?
"Too many rats, chavvy thugs and wolves for the Dark Lord to trust something important to be lying around the Manor," he'd added.
"Ah, yes, Mr. Pettigrew. That boy always had a nose for ratting out strong objects," Dumbledore's image said.
Trying to appear nonchalant, she asked, "So is Draco going to see his mum?"
"Yes, I approved his visit. It will do him good to see her," Severus said equally nonchalant.
Hermione smiled. "I think so, too."
"So how is Potter doing?" Severus asked, and she was about to deny talking to him when he added, "I know about the mirrors and the coin."
"I thought…" He cocked an eyebrow, so she relented. "You've known and still allowed me to talk to him."
"You and Ginevra have been discreet, but both Cillian and Draco have noticed. They've been concealing your actions in the library on my request."
Allowing it – and not impeding me? I should've known. "They are alive, moving around a lot. How are they? They're tired and… well, Harry's moody at times, and both get frustrated."
"Nevertheless, they haven't found the three items he needs to find?" Severus stated.
She bit her lip.
"The Cup, the Snake, and something that belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw," he listed.
Hermione nodded. "We're tracking down the Cup as best we can. I don't know how we'll kill the Snake, and the other eludes us. Almost all of Rowena Ravenclaw's and Godric Gryffindor's items are accounted for – in museums, the National Wizarding Archives, or here at the School."
"I do not know if Voldemort ever found something that actually belonged to Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor's only artifacts are here in this office. We are missing something…" Dumbledore's image said, and he moved out of his frame.
"I believe you'll work it out," Severus stated. "Is there anything else you want to tell me?"
She thought about telling him about what they'd found in the Chamber of Secrets – she wanted to, but then how could she explain how they'd broken into the Chamber. "I'm failing Muggle Studies."
"I'm hardly surprised," he said with a laugh. "I know how you fare in your subjects. You're failing Dark Arts as well but excelling in all your other subjects."
"I sometimes feel as if I'll crack," she admitted.
He shook his as he walked over to her. "No, you're not," he said, pulling her into his arms. "You're bearing up better than anyone thought you would."
She hugged him back, inhaling deeply, the heady sent of him and his cologne comforting.
"Cillian, Draco and I are most impressed how well you're doing – even the Dark Lord is perplexed at your resilience. The others – well, the problem is that they talk about your knowledge, abilities and successes with anger and unease – you pose the problem of refutation of his ideology of purity."
She sighed, her cheek resting on his chest.
"If you'd stayed with Potter, you'd be Undesirable Number Two instead of Mr. Weasley," he said. His hand stroked her hair. "I have more work to do before I come up. Why don't you take a hot bath. It will do your muscles good."
"I will, thank you," she said, looking up at him. He kissed her, deeply and she responded. He was a pillar of support to her. When he broke off the kiss he stared deeply into her eyes, and she studied the dark chocolate brown of his eyes and the long black eyelashes.
"I'll be up as soon as I can," he said, kissing her again.
When he let go and turned toward his desk, she left to go up to the bedroom room. She could hear the water running in the bathroom and smiled. She wrote out a note to Ginny, wrapped it around the silver compact and asked Peren to deliver it.
Now all she could do was to wait. And hope.
~G~
Demelza's distraction was to knock over a suit of armor down the corridor from MacCavish's guest room, then fly her broom out the nearby window. They'd opened the window magically in advance and propped it open with a stick. All Demelza needed to do to activate the charms Ginny added on the window and window frame was to kick the stick away so the window would close and reseal itself, a trick Ginny knew well.
Ginny waited in her squirrel form for MacCavish to leave his guest room to investigate the disturbance so she could slip in and leave the pastry on his table.
The crash of the armor and its cursed admonishment was much louder than Ginny had anticipated but it worked. Plus, Demelza was fast. She'd shot out the window, and it closed in a soft whoosh. The Charms sealed the window before MacCavish had rushed out into the corridor to inspect the cause of the noise.
Ginny rushed in, transformed, and set the desert in plain view on the table between his wingback chairs. The rich chocolate cake was a favorite of his and he'd always snagged it before anyone else could get it.
She noticed a collection of liquor bottles on the top of his small bookcase. Smiling to herself, she moved one of the bottles, the Ogden's Dragon Reserve firewhiskey, and set a tumbler next to it. She added a charm on the glass that once he took a sip it would make him drink the whole bottle, maybe two, hopefully making him drunk with a terrible hangover the next day.
She transformed back to her squirrel form, flicking her tail.
It wasn't even difficult to get out. The door opened, he walked in, not even seeing her, and she ran out as the door started to close.
She ran all the way to the Gryffindor common room, only changing back before the Fat Lady could see her.
"You're out late again!" the image huffed.
"I am, I'm sorry to disturb you," she apologized then quickly added, "Tingling Campanula,"
"Go on then, go in and go to bed," the Fat Lady said, opening for her.
Ginny was happy to see her bed was turned down for her. She climbed into bed, finding a small package that had been tucked under her the edge of her pillow. Curious she picked it up. There were no dangerous spells as far as she could tell, but the object inside was magical. She cautiously opened it with her wand.
It was a very pretty silver compact with green gems on the lid, wrapped in a very detailed note on how to use it in Hermine's handwriting.
~T~
Since Draco was drugging his uncle's brother, Theo had agreed to knock out VanHalal. He deftly cast the Tapping Hex on VanHalal's door, one his brother used to use on his bedroom door all the time as kids. As soon as VanHalal threw open the door, Theo hit the wizard with the Bewitched Sleep Charm, making him fall on his back. He and Adrianna ran inside the room, stepping over VanHalal's legs. Nott floated the body to move the wizard into his room and closed the door, and Adrianna reversed the Disillusion Charm they'd used. Adrianna used the Hover Charm so Theo could remove the wizard's dressing robe, finding him in a stained white men's onesie jumpsuit underwear, with all but the last two buttons buttoned.
"Now that's an image I want to forget," Adriana said.
Theo laughed at her comment. "Better that onesie than his sleeping nude."
"Ugh, gross! That is not an image I wanted to have either," she said, playfully swatting his arm. "Imagined or otherwise."
Theo made a few flicks of his wand at the bed covers, and Adriana dropped the wizard on his bed.
They hurried back to their common room quietly.
~H~
Hanna had no idea why Ginny wanted her to deliver the desert to Rowle; he rarely ate them at meals, apparently not having much of a sweet tooth. But the small Banoffee pie made of the bananas, caramel, biscuit and cream smelled divine, even with the potion inside. Plus, it was still warm. At least Ernie was confident they could make this work. He'd made her look like a house-elf, only a bit taller than they usually were, and disillusioned himself to protect her if anything went wrong.
Rowle was already in his dressing robes, already sloshed. He held a half empty whiskey liquor bottle, but all she made out on the label was Glenlivet and the number eighteen. "What's this?" he demanded.
"A pies, sir," she squeaked, intimidated by the wizard. "We mades it specially."
"Well set it inside," he said and opened the door wider. She walked inside the door and hoped Ernie was still there, because house-elves didn't use wands. She set the pie on his little table. There were two more bottles on his dresser, and another sat empty on the floor. Apparently, he liked the Glenlivet Eighteen. One bottle shimmied a little, and she glanced up at Rowle, smiled nervously and ran for the door.
When the door closed, she pulled out her extendable ears, giving one to Ernie and waited.
And waited.
"Maybe the Gourmandizing Charm didn't work?" she whispered nervously.
"You put the Gourmandizing Charm on the pie?" Ernie whispered back.
She nodded.
Ernie chuffed a quiet laugh. "I used the Debauchery Hex on him and the Craving Jinx on the bottles. The man is getting wasted."
They waited to hear some indication Rowle had passed out.
"I head something drop," Ernie said as Hanna sighed in relief at the thud of a bottle landing on the carpet. Ernie opened the door, finding Rowle passed out in his chair, two empty bottles on the floor under his limp hand. Smiling, Hanna lifted the covers of Rowle's bed as Ernie levitated the wizard's unconscious form onto it, and then Hanna dropped the covers into place, not bothering to tuck him in. They left, knowing Rowle would be quite hungover in the morning when he was reawakened.
~P~
Padma thought doing this would be so much harder than it actually was; getting the Polyjuice Potion from Hermine and Antonia Gerund's hair that she needed was easy enough. Claudia Ramirez hid in the corridor disillusioned just in case anything went wrong. Padma drank some of the Polyjuice Portion she had in a flask to become Antonia. "Ready?" Claudia asked and Padma nodded, wrinkling her nose at the awful taste.
"Get out if there's trouble," Claudia said.
"Oh, I will," Padma replied. She waited until the shifting settled and took the pie from Claudia. "Let's hope I have the luck of Felix," she said – a weak attempt at humor, but half wishing that were true. She deftly knocked on the door.
Travers opened his door and smiled at the small Banoffee pie in Padma's transformed hands. "You bring me dessert, sweetie?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, and he invited her in. She sat primly the way Antonia did and sipped her Ogden's. She had to pretend to like the drink; she actually preferred wine, especially varietal wine because of their flavors and complexities.
She sat in silence while he ate the pie watching her lecherously, declining his offer to try some politely. "Well, come over here," he said, setting down the plate. Padma set down her glass and walked over to him hoping the potion in the pie would take effect quickly. He pulled her onto his lap, and… suddenly fell asleep. She jumped off him, disgusted that he and Antonia behaved so inappropriately, and opened the door so Claudia could help her put him to bed.
~D~
The visit was rather nice. Draco and Rabastan sat amicably, sipping very good Glenmorangie whiskey from 1977 and conversing about the Dark Lord's activities and how the Ministry was finally running as it should. The Banoffee pie, a peace offering, sat on the table untouched, though. Desperate, Draco slyly cast a wandless nonverbal Hunger Charm on his host.
His Uncle's brother helped himself to the pie as Draco stood up. "You're leaving," Rabastan asked, his mouth full.
"Yes, I must get back to my dorm; I still have reading to do. Thank you for the fine whiskey, though," he said and made to leave. As Draco opened the door, about to step out into the corridor, he heard Rabastan's glass shatter on the floor. About bloody time. He stepped back in and closed the door.
It took some effort, but Draco managed to put Rabastan to bed for the night. Well, Saturday night – or maybe Sunday morning would be better, he thought, repairing the glass and vanishing the rest of the pie. He took a one of Rabastan's robes, shirt, leather doublet, trousers and a pair of boots, some hair and his wand, then left feeling smug.
It had been too easy.
Early the next morning, Draco apparated home and went up to see his mother. Thankfully, being this early, none of the other inhabitants were up it seemed. His mother woke when he softly called out to her and gently touched her shoulder.
"Draco, what are you doing here?"
"I came to see you," he replied.
A house-elf brought tea and coffee service and set the silver tray on the table in her sitting area. "Would Mistress likes her breakfasts here?" the elf asked.
"Yes, and be quiet, I don't want Bell woken." His mother sat up and rose to put on her dressing robe.
Draco was pleased to see her looking better; she had a healthier glow about her. Sadly, she still moved gingerly, and the bruises on her face, neck and arms were still present in a varying degree of healing. He wished she'd use Bruise Paste, but she was stubbornly opting not to – or had been told not to.
He joined her at the two armchairs and made the small table enlarge in preparation of the food arriving. The food, when it did arrive, was not what he'd expected. Plain scrambled eggs, fried potatoes and a meager slice of ham, with a small bowl of fruit slices.
"Food is becoming harder to obtain, especially when one has to entertain a house full of guests for months on end," his mother explained.
They talked while they ate. At least the food tasted good as did the coffee. His mother didn't want to hear much about what was happening in the school, so she shared other news with him, the things the guests and the Dark Lord's minions and zealous sycophants were doing and saying.
When the plates were cleared, Draco showed his picture to his mum. "There is nothing like that in our house, I'd know. Besides our home is overrun with his followers. It wouldn't be safe here," she said. "Your father was able to remove all our valuables to the vault before he gave up his wand, including the fine china, my jewelry and all the sliver so the miscreants would not steal them. We've been using the Dalworth service, although no one seems to care. The house-elves can repair those easily enough."
The Dalworth dinnerware? The ones we use for outdoor dining? "Mother, I need you to do something for me, please. I need you to go look in the vault for that cup. I can't go, I'm supposed to be here, with you and father… this morning."
"You're my son. I'll do anything for you, you know that," his mom said, giving him her assurance, she'd go as soon as the bank opened. "I never thought his return would be like this. It wasn't this way the first time. He was… more human, charismatic, political. We didn't stoop so low to please him – he – he was different."
"I can't say he was what I expected either, especially after hearing about his greatness for years." He wanted to tell her the truth but refrained.
However, his mother knew him well. She turned to look at the curtained window. "Do what you must, Draco, and so will I."
When the clock struck seven, she rose to bathe and dress, saying she'd leave immediately after.
He left her rooms and walked to the cellars to check on the family's private reserve, mostly to avoid seeing anyone else. A few occupants were moving about, mostly coming down to the formal dining room, demanding their breakfasts.
The main cellars were nearly empty. As he wandered between the shelves and storage racks and stopped in front of the large iron door. He reached out his left hand, ignoring the stinging sensation as he turned the latch. Once again, he walked down the round tunnel, looking in the windows in the heavy iron doors set in the deep depressions in the curved walls. He illuminated his wand tip because thecandle wall sconces didn't provided enough light. The rooms that had horrified him during the Winter Solstice appeared unused, thankfully.
As he neared the larger rooms he heard the soft sound of a girl, or girls, crying, and investigated.
This time what he saw appalled him, and Draco wretched. They were still here, bound in chains andshackles, in dirty old clothes and looked as if they were poorly fed and hadn't bathed in weeks – if at all. The stench of sweat, urine, excrement, andvomit was clearly discernable even in the hall. But instead of there being two large rooms holding Undesirables hostage, there were now three, and all young children and teens under eighteen. Some he recognized as the children of supporters other as students from Hogwarts. This abuse had to end.
Draco pulled out his mirror and contacted Hermione, explaining what he was looking at. "I can't get them out, there are too many Death Eaters, and we also have a rat problem and werewolves here."
Hermione looked thoughtful and then nodded. "I have an idea. Give me a moment."
He leaned against a door, waiting with the Bubblehead Charm in place.
Minutes clicked by.
He wondered what she was doing.
"Draco?"
He removed the charm and the smells hit his nose offensively. "Yes," he said, relieved to see her.
"I've worked something out. You need you to call Peren so she knows where to go, and she'll take the hostages someplace safe," Hermione said.
"Okay," he said. I should have thought of that. He called out Peren's name, and she arrived a second later. She looked around nervously. "There are people held in these rooms," Draco said, showing her where. "They are in shackles. Just get them out as fast as you can."
"Peren is going to helps them," she said. A moment later, Peren hoped into the large room and disappeared with two of them.
She reappeared this time with a strange old house-elf wearing a towel around his hips and necklace, but together he and Peren removed four more.
Dobby, dressed the most garish sweater, two hats, and mismatched socks and leather shoes, appeared with Peren and the old House-elf. This time, working together, the elves disappeared with six more people.
He waited until the house-elves came back and rescued six more.
Satisfied, Draco went to his mother's rooms to wait for her. She returned but told Draco it wasn't in their vault. He kissed his mum and left.
Okay. Plan two.
~H~
It was an all-out rescue mission. The moment Ginny had contacted them, and she explained what Hermione needed, Harry and Ron had jumped into action. "Most are girls, possibly the ones taken from the train, who are being held prisoner in Malfoy's cellars," Ginny had said.
They were in an old stone house Oliver remembered from exploring with some friends one summer. Everyone worked in a frantic pace to get ready for the arrivals. Harry had called for Kreacher and Dobby; asking Kreacher to get supplies, robes, blankets and towels, and had asked Dobby to get some Healers from main camp.
The huge house, an abandoned mansion in a crumbling, derelict state, had once been a grand home over a hundred years ago. The deciding factor was that the house and spooky overgrown courtyard, sat on ten acres of land with heavily overrun gardens and forests. Plus, the unnerving fear factor that the house was the home to several ghosts, two who didn't want residents in the home helped keep curious Muggles from the place.
Nevertheless, Muggle-Repelling Charms had been cast on the turnoff from the road and along the perimeter of the property anyway as a precaution, and the Fidelis Charm was placed on the house and gates. Logs and stones were transfigured into huge rugs, comfortable chairs, tables and recliners in the largest rooms.
They heard Ginny call out from the mirror to call for Peren, so Harry and Ron both called out Peren's name. Kreacher stopped to listen, the large bundle he'd brought dropping to his feet, his ears going wide as the huge bundle sorted into smaller piles.
"How many do you think there are?" Harry asked, waiting, hoping Peren had heard them.
Ron held up his hands as he shrugged. "Ginny didn't know – Malfoy didn't tell Hermione how many there were, only that they were Undesirables. She said Malfoy will call Peren first, and when she comes here she can take Dobby and Kreacher with her to help."
"I'll need to ask Kreacher," Harry said, turning and he almost tripped over his house-elf.
"Kreacher will goes with the elf, Master," Kreacher said, bowing. "Even if Kreacher thinks Undesirables should stay where they are put, Kreacher will brings them here."
"Er, thank you, Kreacher," Harry said, wishing the old elf would someday come around to his point of view.
Sue Li and Lisa Turpin suddenly arrived, holding the hands of a little female house-elf, who then disappeared, taking Kreacher with her. "That would be Peren," Ron said, stating the obvious. Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson swept the girls away to their tent so they could clean up.
Then the little house-elf and Kreacher returned moments later, and they brought Megan Jones, Mandy Brocklehurst, Farrah Chambers, and Terry Boot. They looked as horrible as Sue and Lisa did: thin, dirty and stank of sweat, urine, excrement, and vomit.
Katie collected the girls as Dobby popped in with two Healers, one carrying a vintage doctor's bag, and the other a large floral weekender travel bag. Terry went with Mr. Creevey to use his bathroom to bathe and exchange his robes.
Barely a minute later, Dobby brought two more Healers, this time a male Healer carrying military first aid medic bag with a large Red Cross symbol on the flap, and an older Matron with a large carpet bag.
"Alicia is enlarging the girl's tent," Susan said calmly to Ron as Harry talked with Dobby about going to Peren to help save some people.
Dobby tilted his head and his ears widened listening. "I can hears Peren and Kreacher, Harry Potter, but they is in Malfoy's manor."
"Please, Dobby," Harry asked.
Dobby laced his fingers, then looked up at him. "I will goes," he said and apparated. A moment later, Luna Lovegood, Duane Saunders, Marietta Edgecombe, Stephen Cornfoot and Ollivander and a young boy appeared with the elves.
Harry wasn't pleased to see Marietta, especially after she betrayed the D.A. to Umbridge. Kingsley Shacklebolt had needed to place a memory charm on her so that she couldn't inculpate the D.A. members their fifth year. He hoped he didn't have to cast one on her this time. He did ask Colin to keep a close eye on her.
Katie approached him. "Most of them are in really bad shape."
"Will they be all right?" Ron asked, as the elves brough six more kids that Harry didn't recognize and popped out.
"Eventually," she replied, as one of the Healers led the kids to another room. "Most of them will have to go to Outpost II."
But this time all three elves appeared, bringing two Slytherins Harry and Rom recognized: Felicia Lockhaven and Glenwynn Glenwrythe, and several young kids. The house-elves immediately disappeared.
"Kreacher, Dobby, when you're done getting everyone out, please help the Healers take the ones who are in serious need to Outpost II – the Lake House," Harry asked and walked over to the Slytherin girls.
"Thank you for saving us," Miss Lockhaven said, sounding grateful enough. She had her arms around the girl she introduced as her sister, Cherelle, a second year Slytherin, and the boy she said was her younger brother, Godfrey, who looked to be eight or nine.
"Wow, you – your Ron Weasley! I never thought I'd meet you," he said, shaking Ron's hand. "It's really cool to meet you."
"Er, you're welcome," Ron said, his ears turning red.
Miss Glenwrythe introduced her sister, Annalynna, a first year Ravenclaw student, and brother Elwynn who was only nine.
The girl stared at Harry in awe. "It is you," she said, starstruck. "It's really you! You saved us!"
Miss Glenwrythe put her hand on her sister's shoulder. "If it's possible I'd really like to send a letter to Hermione and let her know we're all right," she said.
"You're friends with Hermione?" Harry asked, still trying to sort out their presence and what to do about them.
Both Miss Lockhaven and Miss Glenwrythe confirmed that they'd become good friends this school year. "We cannot go back to the school or go home – I'm listed as a blood traitor by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and the Mudblood Registration Commission for having pro-Muggleborn ideals, and my family is being investigated for not living to the standards of the Death Eaters' ideology of purity," she explained. "My parents were sent to Azkaban as was my uncle."
"Me and my family are being investigated, too," Miss Lockhaven said, her arms still wrapped around her younger siblings, who were holding onto her tightly. "We were imprisoned because my family doesn't want the Dark Lord to rule our lives the way he wants to. He's horrible – his rules and demands… If you can help protect my sister and brother, I'd like to help you."
Harry let out a pent-up exhalation. "I can get a message to Hermione," he said and turned to go to his tent to think.
~D~
Draco left the Manor and went to a spot on under a tree beside a pond, a place he'd enjoyed when he was younger and more carefree. He used to feed ducks and swans here, but as he grew up it became a place of reflection and quiet. He waited to hear from Hermione that all the hostages had been rescued.
And waited.
His place of reflection and solitude was not so calming as before. What's taking so long? How many were there in there?
He transfigured old leaves into small boats and flicked them into the pond as he waited.
Concerned, he pulled out the silver compact to contact Hermione. She answered immediately.
Draco sighed in relief. "The Cup was not in my family vault and my mother doesn't think it will be in Aunt Bella's home. She hasn't been living there since she escaped Azkaban, and the house has been checked by Aurors several times. I should have remembered that."
"Isn't the house under the Fidelis?" she asked.
"The Fidelis Charm can be broken, and there are ways to get around the enchantment. So, the best option is the Lestrange vault, but to get in I'll need the Sword," he said.
"Let me check something," she said and set down her mirror.
Draco stared out at the pond, seeing ripples form on the surface and the head of a turtle pop up by some reeds. A few minutes later, he saw her face again. "I have the Hat and it says it will talk to you. Call Peren, she's listening for your voice."
He did and Peren brought the Sorting Hat to him. The Hat said he'd have to put it on his head.
He felt ridiculous but he put the old Hat on and asked the Hat for the Sword, but the Hat asked, "What act of valor do you have to do, Mr. Malfoy?"
"I need it to destroy something so that Potter can defeat the Dark Lord," he said.
Silence. Draco could feel the wretched thing thinking… Time passed slowly, and Draco could feel his frustration begin to rise. His heart began to beat more loudly in his chest. If he couldn't get the Sword they were done for, and all his and Hermione's plans would be for nothing.
He forced himself to reason with the stubborn bloody thing. "The Sword was used to kill a basilisk; its venom is on the blade. The Sword is goblin made –– so it will be imbued itself with what will make it stronger. I know it is the only object that can break the spells on the… item… I have to destroy to help Harry Potter."
"And you are telling me that you, the heir of Malfoy, Marked by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, wants to help Harry Potter?" the Hat asked, shifting on his head as it spoke.
"Yes, I want to help Harry Potter find and destroy a dangerous Dark Artifact," Draco stated. Merlin, if this hat tells anyone I'll be dragged before the Dark Lord and killed.
He waited. The Hat murmured indistinctly with interspersed moments of silence as the Hat considered his words. Then the Hat stilled. "Very well, Mr. Malfoy," the Hat said, and he was hit on the head with something heavy.
"Feck! Ow!" Draco tipped forward and the Hat slid off his head. From beneath its felted folds he saw the shiny pommel of a sword hilt.
He handed the Hat back to Peren and rubbed his head where the pommel had struck him.
Now for the Cup, he thought, and the Sword shuddered slightly in his hand. Time to contact Hermione so she'd tell Potter where to meet him.
~H~
Hermione wished she could join Ginny in her dorm room, but Ginny told her to wait.
Wait! If anything went wrong…
So, she waited. Again.
Suddenly, Peren returned with the Sorting Hat, startling her. "Did it work? Did you grant Draco the use of the Sword?" she asked the Hat, crossing her fingers behind her back.
"Yes," the Hat said, it's top tipping slightly. "Mr. Malfoy was speaking the truth; his need was great, the reasoning sound, but only if this is an act of valor will the Sword stay in the hand of a Slytherin."
"It is, it really is," she assured the Hat. She was thanking the Hat when the mirror in her pocket vibrated. "Draco, hold on." She put the Sorting Hat back on his place of distinction, thanked it again and hurried up the stairs to the bedroom. "Okay, I'm here," she said, looking at Draco in the mirror.
"Did the elves get everyone out?" Draco asked.
Peren leaned on Hermione's knee. "Yes, we dids, sir. Peren, Dobby and Kreacher takes everyone out of that awful place," she spoke up clearly. "They is safe and with Healers, now."
"Okay good," he said then added, "Peren, under my bed is a brown leather travel bag. I need you to bring it to me. I'm outside, under the white willow by the foot bridge."
"I cans do this, sir, rights away!" Peren said and disappeared.
"She left to retrieve it," Hermione said. "So, is that where you want me to tell Harry to meet you?"
"No, it should be someplace we've both been to, and preferably remote or secluded. I was thinking the campsite in Dartmoor where the Quidditch World Cup was held in 1994," he suggested.
She set down the mirror and he heard her talking to someone else. A moment later, she appeared. "Harry suggested the edge of the wood at the top of the field. There is an old, gnarled tree along the tree line. He can meet you there."
"Got it, old gnarled tree – top of the field," he repeated.
"Okay. Please, be careful," Hermine said.
"Slytherins: cunning, resourceful, determined, and clever, remember? We're not the brash and carelessly bumbling brave ones."
Hermione saw him look down, then nothing. He'd closed the compact.
"Please cooperate with each other," she said, and fell back against her pillow.
~H~
Harry examined the clothes he was to put on. They felt and looked expensive. The tailored trousers were tight now - until he would transform into Lestrange. The leather boots looked cool, but he hated putting on Rabastan's footwear.
There was a silk shirt that he was to wear under the high-necked leather vest and goth-looking Victorian frock coat. The leather was heavily tooled, and coat had silver embellishments on the front and sleeves.
And over all of that he was expected to wear a long overcoat robe with intricate stitched patterns down the front in blue, silver and purple. He was going to roast. At least the boots were close to his size.
There was a feint crunch of in the dead leaves and he looked over his shoulder, wishing he could take Ron with him.
"I won't wear the mask," Harry stated, holding it out to Malfoy.
"No, you don't wear the mask in the bank, Potter, it will cause a riot," Malfoy said, not quite condescendingly. "You put it in your pocket, same as your wand – but not in the same pocket. The goblins will feel the mask's magic. Another way to identify you as Rabastan Lestrange."
~D~
"I have a key and Rabastan's wand from his pockets – so I must get back before he wakes up. Their vault is protected by both the Gemino and the Flagrante Charms which will activate when any item is touched by a thief – and you're a thief. Remember that. Stay on the central isle between the gold and silver. The goblin won't enter the vault, but near the front he can still hear us – they have incredible hearing, so stay in character," Draco repeated.
"All right," Potter said, removing his trousers, and quickly pulled on Rabastan's. Rabastan was a thin wizard, so the waist was tight on Potter.
"The vault requires the touch of a certified Gringotts goblin to open it. So once inside, you cannot touch anything. You're not a Lestrange and the spells' activations will alert the goblin waiting outside the vault."
"Got it, no touching, act arrogant and bark demands," Potter said with a nod as he pulled on the boots.
"I said be arrogant and demanding – no barking… Rabastan is softer spoken than Uncle Rodolphus, verging on cold when he speaks and be distant and removed when speaking to a goblin – but not dismissive," Draco said, wishing for the thousandth time that Potter would simply pay attention. "This is important. He is of the aristocratic pureblood elite, so act like it. Oh, and don't slouch or smile."
"They have a lift to the heel," Potter said, walking around a little.
"Yes, they add two inches." Thankfully, although Rabastan's boots were a size or two too big, Potter managed them all right. That would make it easier for Potter to move naturally – no awkward adjusting to differences in body frame. "Did you hear me?"
"Speak softly, cold, distant, and act as if I'm an arrogant git – got it."
Potter came back, removing his sweatshirt and T-shirt in one go.
"The level is guarded by a dragon – but the goblin will take care of it – just keep walking to the vault 356. Don't look back and don't show fear," Draco continued.
Potter looked up from buttoning the silk shirt. "Got it; don't show fear."
"It's important, Potter. No fear. Rabastan is used to the process and the dragon doesn't concern him – it's like walking past a chained-up Cerberus."
"Did that once already, thank you," Potter said, pulling on the leather doublet. Rabastan's the well-made black and deep purple doublet almost fit Potter, but it was tight across the chest.
"So, you'll have no problem walking past the dragon," Draco said, hoping it was true. "Besides, it's old and half blind the last time I was down there."
"Except the three headed dog didn't spew fire," Potter said, slipping into the Victorian goth coat.
Draco ignored the comment. "Now, when we reach the vault a certified goblin has to place his entire palm on the door to open it, and…" Draco couldn't believe Potter was yanking the silk cuff out at his wrist! "No, the shirt cuff isn't supposed to show like that." He pulled his wand and adjusted the sleeve. Did he not know how to put on robes?
Once Potter was properly attired, although not fully buttoned up, Draco put Lestrange's hair into the flask of potion and handed it to Potter.
Potter drank a mouthful and held his breath. "Gah, he tastes like horse sweat and whiskey," he complained.
"It could be worse," Draco replied, not caring what Rabastan tasted of. He watched Potter transform, thankful that he hadn't vomited. The potion would last the full hour. He flicked his wand, saying, "Ipsum usque," making the layers of Rabastan's clothes button up.
"Keep the flask in case you feel the change coming on. Don't let on to the goblins." Gah, he hoped this would work.
Getting in was no problem. They had the key, a mere formality, and they had the correct wands. So far Potter hadn't slipped up once – mostly because he'd not said anything. An uttered, "Here," when Bogrod asked he show his wand, and an annoyed huff when asked for the key. However, it worked.
"He is accompanying me," Potter stated firmly.
"We're here to exchange something," Draco stated.
Bogrod angled his head slightly.
The Head Goblin stood in the background and watched the exchange with scrutiny, but apparently, he found nothing amiss.
"Very well, sir," Bogrod said. "Proceed to the transport platform."
Together, Potter and Draco walked to the far end of the bank hall and entered the vault entry. When the cart pulled up, Draco recognized Gronrook, a goblin who'd assisted him before. Potter and Draco climbed in, and the goblin requested they remain seated, which equated to politeness for a goblin. Their cart also had sturdy handrails for the steep dives and a lap strap.
There was another goblin on the level of the vault, and he used the heavy clankers to make the nearly blind Ukrainian Ironbelly, the Gringotts dragon in this section, back off as Gronrook led them to the vault.
They waited for the goblin to open the vault, and thankfully Potter didn't fidget.
Potter tried to appear nonchalant as he and Draco entered the vault. Draco smirked, it was huge and an impressive sight, even for him, but he knew Potter would be overwhelmed of the treasure trove. Draco walked to the back where the more valuable items were as Potter, pretending to maintain the ruse that he was Rabastan, followed, eyeing the immense treasure in awe.
There was a lot of gold and silver everywhere. Gold gilt furniture, silver and gold candle sticks, vases, magical objects. Piles of large casks and chests many with dates and names on them. Piles of galleons, sickles, gold doubloons, Edward III Florins, ancient silver Greek and Roman coins, and some Draco was sure Potter had never seen before. And piles of very old manuscripts and ancient looking books and old scrolls he was sure Hermione would love to read – except these were the banned Dark Arts tomes his family hid from the Ministry. The old Ministry, he reminded himself.
When Draco stopped before shelves and cabinets holding the gold and silver and crystal plates, platters, bowls, and elaborate serving pieces, many encrusted with gems and fine artwork, Potter walked up to stand next to him. The top shelves held goblets, pitchers, and many other types of vessels, some so old they were magically incased.
"There it is! Hufflepuff's cup," Potter hissed, trying to be quiet, and pointed up to the top shelf. "There," he added softly, albeit unnecessarily; Draco had already spotted the Cup from Helga Hufflepuff's portrait, up high and in the corner, in a hard-to-reach spot.
"Top shelf, third cup on the left; that's the Cup. It's the small gold one with the badger engraved on it and two handles…"
"Yep, that's the one," Draco said as he eyed the small golden cup with the two finely wrought handles. It was not an impressive cup compared to the family's finer goblets and chalices, but it did have emeralds glinting in the badge's eyes.
"That's the one! Get it down," Potter said, sounding impatient, which was perfect.
"All right, hold your hippogriff," Draco said, lifting down the Cup with the Sword. The engraved badger seemed life-like, the emeralds glinting even in the low light, and he could swear he saw the badger move. The foot, rim and handles were adorned with fine green gems – emeralds or green sapphires. He could almost feel unexplained anger coming from the Cup as if it felt animosity for having been disturbed.
Knowing how the spells in the vault worked, Draco turned to Potter and clearly said, "Here, take this," and handed Potter the Cup.
"Give me the Sword," Potter demanded, reaching for the blade, but Draco drew it away from him.
"You cannot destroy the Cup in the vault! I explained that to you," Draco snapped in a hiss so as not to be heard by the goblin waiting outside the vault. "The spells will activate, remember, and alert the goblin there is a problem. We'll get caught."
Draco turned to leave and tossed the Sword onto a huge pile of coins in an old chest against the wall. Potter leaned forward to reached for it, but Draco stopped him before he touched anything. "I have to leave the Sword here. The real sword will return to Hogwarts, and no one will be the wiser."
"No – I need to destroy the Cup," Potter demanded, fighting against Draco's grasp.
"And we will, I promise you. But we can't destroy the Cup in here. The real sword will return to Hermione in the Headmaster's office. She will destroy the Cup, or don't you trust her to do it?" Draco asked. "Look," he added, pointing to the copy of the sword on a shelf. "There is the one Hermione told me about – my aunt's fake – the replica Snape had made."
Potter looked dumbfounded.
"Yes, Potter, it's a fake. How many times must I explain; the real one will return to the castle – the fake one will remain here. Aunt Bella won't know we've taken the Cup because nothing will have been stolen," Draco reiterated. "And take more Polyjuice potion – it's wearing off."
Draco walked out, his head held high, once again putting on the old Malfoy airs, Potter exiting behind him. "We're ready to go."
Draco climbed into the cart, and Potter climbed in next to him, stepping on his foot. They rode up to the main lobby without incident, thankfully. So far so good, he congratulated himself.
Draco exited the cart, waiting on Potter to climb out, as a family of four entered another cart. Together they walked around the others waiting to go below. Thankfully the bank was busier then when they'd arrived. They walked confidently through the long main bank hall, past the counters where wizardkind conducted most of their business, still maintaining his old persona. However, once they entered the small entrance hall only a few feet from the burnished bronze doors and freedom, the klaxons began clanging.
Not waiting to find out why, Draco ran for the huge bronze doors and freedom. He didn't want to be seen in Diagon Alley by any of the Dark Lord's supporters or worse a Death Eater who'd recognize him and Rabastan. "Put your cloak on," Draco said and shoved the doors as hard as he could, as the guards tried to move to block his path. "In there – they are in there!" he shouted, acting terrified.
Potter dropped the Cup as he pulled the hood of Rabastan's cloak over his head, and Draco snatched it up and fled down the stairs. He'd just reached the apparition point when he felt a hand on his arm. Turning, he saw Potter, still in Rabastan's body standing near him, but there was an odd sensation they weren't alone. Draco grasped Potter's arm and apparated, taking Potter with him to the old, gnarled tree.
Draco bent over grabbing his knees, catching his breath, amazed they'd pulled off the heist, as Potter removed the robe and tossed it on a tree branch. "Now what?" Potter demanded.
Draco stood up upon hearing a loud pop some distance away, but saw nothing, only the caravans and Muggles in the campsite area below. Shaking his head, he faced Potter. "We wait until you return to your own shape, and then I take the Cup to Hermione, and she'll destroy it. I'll also have to return Rabastan's clothes to his wardrobe, so he doesn't notice them missing."
Draco sat on a root and idly turned fallen leaves into random objects but couldn't shake off the feeling he was being watched.
"Why did Snape make a copy of the Sword?" Potter asked, leaning his back against a low branch of the gnarled tree.
"When the Dark Lord demanded the Sword be given to my aunt, Severus had a copy made, an excellent copy, but it's not goblin made." he could still feel the Cup twitch in his pocket.
"This may surprise you, Potter, but Severus has done many questionable things. For years he was accused of protecting you, Weasley and Hermione at School. Then this year, he married her and has his best friend at Hogwarts as her protector, and me as well. He has Professor McGonagall replicate the pages of the school registry into a duplicate book for Alecto Carrow to browse, omitting the new Muggleborns. And he all but disregards the antics of your friends, except when he must intercede. And he and I brew potions needed by your Healers, wherever it is you are hiding them."
"The ones Dobby brings," Potter said in a hushed voice. "What else is really going on in the castle?"
"I've incriminated myself and Severus enough, don't you think? And don't ask why, you know why. I hate him, the Dark Lord. I hate what he's done with my family's home, the way he treats us, the way my mother is mistreated. For all my father's postering over the years about how great he was – well, he may be a great and powerful wizard, but… I can't blindly… not anymore." He leaned back against the trunk. "If he wins this war – I'm as good as dead if he ever finds out."
"So, you're on my side, now?"
Draco opened his eyes and pulled the Cup from his pocket. "What is the matter with this cup? I felt anger and contempt when I held it in the vault. I still feel resentment and hatred from it, now and my left arm feels cold, and painful tingling."
Potter looked away.
Draco set the Cup on the root by his knee. The Cup began to rock and fell off, bouncing away fast. Harry lunged for it, but Draco summoned it to him. The Cup continued to shake violently in Draco's grasp as if wanting to get away. "What the hell is this?" he demanded. "Tell me!" When Potter didn't answer Draco threatened, "I'm a Legilimens, Potter, and I doubt you've learned to Occlude your thoughts since your disastrous attempts to learn how from Severus," and pointed his wand at Potter.
"It's a Horcrux," Potter shouted.
"Feck – what?" Draco asked astounded.
"You heard me. Now lower your wand," Potter demanded.
It all made sense: why the Dark Lord hadn't died when the Killing Curse backfired. Why Hermione, Ginevra and Potter were so desperate to find the Cup. Why they needed the Sword to destroy it. Then he remembered Ginevra's comments regarding the diary – how it used her. "I need to get back to the castle. Can you change back into your own clothes?"
Harry nodded and began to change, although some of his clothes had to be altered to fit him. "Vicissim retro is the reversing charm for altered clothing," Draco said in case Potter didn't know that one.
"Thanks," Potter said.
Draco needed to hide the Cup when he returned to the castle gates. The Cup was too bulky in his pocket, and it was still struggling. As he collected and shoved the clothes Potter discarded into the leather travel bag, he spotted a small velvet pouch which had fallen on the ground. "Of course!"
He pulled out the coin pouch Hermione had given him for Christmas, first enlarging the small case and putting the Cup inside and then shrinking it back to the original size. The Cup remained inside, and the pouch wasn't trembling so much. "Clever witch."
"Pardon me?" Potter asked, pulling on his jumper.
"Hermione, she's clever," he said as he stuffed the rest of Rabastan's clothes into the travel bag. Satisfied he had everything, he said goodbye to Potter and apparated to the Hogsmeade train station. After he showed his Dark Mark to the wizard on guard, he then walked to the gates, and showed his Mark again.
"What's in the bag," one of them asked, pointing his wand at it.
"Clothes and things my mother wanted me to have," he said, offhandedly showing his pass from Severus. The guards stepped aside, and Draco walked confidently to the castle to find Hermione.
~H~
Harry paced the space behind the gnarled tree, clearly agitated. "He took the Cup. He left the Sword in the vault and took the Cup! He wanted the Cup for himself."
"Harry, I saw and heard everything," Ron said, the invisibility cloak draped over his arm. "Malfoy made it quite clear that the spells on the vault would not let you destroy the Cup while you were in there."
"He left the Sword in the vault!" Harry, still in Lestrange's form, paced angrily.
"Calm down," Ron said, raising his voice at his best friend. "According to Hermione the Sword will return to the Headmaster's office."
"It didn't do that when I had it in the Chamber of Secrets."
"Saving my sister. I know," Ron said. "But we were all flown out of there by Fawkes. We had the Sorting Hat with us, and you took it and the Sword back to Dumbledore. Maybe the Sword knew that somehow – or the Hat did. Either way, Ginny and Hermione worked it out that the Sword will only stay with a bearer as long as he has need of it for an act of valor. The Sword left us because it was laying around – no longer needed for an act of valor."
"And now we don't have it – Malfoy does." Harry sat down on a rock, Lestrange's expression showing defeat.
"He's taking the Cup to the castle. You know how the Horcrux is – it's evil. Malfoy was already feeling the bit of soul's animosity toward him. I seriously doubt that he will want to hang on to it for very long. And the Cup was fighting to get away – like the locket did when you and I tried to destroy it."
"We'll go back to the tents and call Ginny, to make sure Malfoy gives the Cup to Hermione," Harry said. Thankfully, he could feel his face beginning to bubble as the Polyjuice Potion started to wear off. "I still don't trust Malfoy."
"Stand still. Vicissim retro," Ron said pointing his wand Harry's (now Harry again) jeans. All it did was sting Harry's knees. Ron tried the spell again with a sweeping motion, but nothing happened. He repeated the incantation, this time with a circular wand movement, and Harry's jeans reformed to fit him.
"Thanks," Harry replied. He stared off in the direction of the people camping. "Diary, ring, locket, cup, snake, and something else important to Tom Riddle."
"And Dumbledore had no clue as to what that object could be?" Ron asked.
"He died before we could figure it out – but it had to be something significant to Riddle, something from a pureblood." Harry put his glasses on. "Let's get back to the tents."
~H~
Hermione wasn't supposed to, but she'd borrowed a few scrolls from the shelves Peren had moved into their secret room. They still could not unlock the chests, but there was enough reading here to last her ages. And some of Slytherin's old potions and spells intrigued her. She exchanged three of Salazar Slytherin's scrolls for new ones to decipher and two old books written in ancient Greek. Too bad I can't turn in my translations for credit in Wizarding Languages and Literature. But then how'd I explain having the scrolls to begin with?
She slipped the scrolls and books into her bag carefully and then opened the door a crack. There was no one in sight and the corridor was eerily quiet.
She excited and thanked the transforming door, then melded into her Animagus form. She ran all the way to the Headmaster's Tower and slipped around the phoenix statue's feet, running up the stairs. She pulled herself up to her human form and entered the office.
"Hello, Hermione," Severus said.
"I'm sorry, I hurried as fast as I could," she replied. He hardly looked up as she crossed the room.
"I don't know what is occupying Nott, but I'll let your little adventure slide – this time," he said with a directly desirous smirk.
"Ah, thank you," she said, and smiled back, knowingly.
"The Wiggenweld Potion is nearly complete. How are you planning on administering the potion, and when were you planning on reviving them?"
She gapped at him for a moment. "I know the Wiggenweld Potion cannot be touched when given, so I…" She reached into a pocket in her bag and pulled out a swab she'd transfigured. "Disposable oral swabs – dental sponges," she said. "My dad used these in his dental practice. Peren can pop in, rub the potion on their lips and pop out before the potion takes effect."
"And what did you use to administer the Draught of Living Death?"
"Banoffee pies," Hermione answered. "That and a lot of liquor. Apparently the men were drinking in their rooms. The pies were not made here; Peren baked them with Dianne… so none of the house-elves here know…"
Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Draught of Living Death and alcohol."
She nodded and he dropped his hand to the desk. She shrugged. She hadn't had been in the rooms, only helped devise the plan but her friends had all relayed to her how things went. "They will wake up with massive hangovers and will, thankfully, believe they slept through the worse of it."
"Hermione, was it worth it?"
She tipped her head. "I'll know for sure when Draco comes back."
"Thankfully, Cillian will be back tomorrow."
Hermione nodded. Convincing Cillian to spend time with Dianne hadn't been hard, and he'd been gone since Friday after dinner. "I er, have a lot to be getting on with – essays and translations…"
"I'd prefer if you ate dinner here," Severus said.
"I'm certain Peren will be glad to serve us," she said and gratefully headed up the stairs.
~D~
Draco watched the Dementors flying overhead as he ran up to the castle.
A Horcrux. He had the Dark Lord's Horcrux in his pocket.
Even with the protection of Patronus floating around him, the Dementors' cold, dark evil chilled him, making the dread despair of his fears press upon him. He was sure the feelings from the Dementors were heightened due to the Horcrux and the evil writhing thing inside trying to make him falter. Possibly also because of his Dark Mark.
Or it was his imagination getting the better of him. But his left arm felt cold, the prickly-stabbing sensation of dozens of thorns and his Mark felt swollen, a freezing burn up to his elbow.
When he finally found safety within the Entry Hall, the eerie feelings only abated a little bit, but the sensations in his left arm hadn't lessened much. He needed chocolate. He needed to destroy this evil in the Cup. Draco opened the compact as he stood by the stairs and sighed when he saw Hermione looking back at him. "Bring the Sword to me," he said, well hissed.
~H~
Hermione ran down to Severus' office as fast as she could. "Draco's back. I need the Sword," she announced as she dropped her hands onto his desk.
Without a response, Severus stood, and retrieved the Sword. "Do you need me to come?" he asked, handing it to her.
"I don't know," she replied. "Harry told me how he destroyed the Diary and the Locket. I'm pretty sure I can destroy the Cup. I just have to stab it with enough force to break it."
"Where will you go?" he asked.
Hermione thought for a moment. "Myrtle's bathroom on the second floor."
Severus nodded. "I will be near if you need me."
She opened the compact and told Draco where to meet her.
~D~
Draco entered the bathroom on the second floor not caring who saw him enter the girl's loo and waited for Hermione. He pulled the Cup out and dropped it into the sink with the broken tap. The Cup bounced and flipped, but he didn't care.
Hermione entered carrying the Sword. He'd never been happier to see her in all the seven years he'd known her.
He was already reaching to grab the Cup from the sink as she said, "Hold it down for me."
"Why this bathroom?" he asked, kneeling, the Cup shanking in his hands.
"If anything happens no one will care," she said.
"Don't cut me," he warned her.
"Hold it still," Hermione demanded as she took aim, pointing the Sword directly above the Cup. The Cup tried to move, desperately, but he had a firm grasp on both handles and pressed it down hard to the floor. "I got it," he snapped. "Do it already."
A voice rose from the Cup, taunting him and his Dark Mark hurt. "Do it," he cried as the voice called him, "a blood traitor," "Dunglicker," and "Scumsucker." A face of a young man rose, saying angrily, "I will kill you. I will end your days in agony…"
Hermione plunged the Sword into the Cup, making the handsome young wizard scream obscenities and snarl grotesquely.
The face laughed manically as she withdrew the Sword, but then starred in horror, screaming, "No – no you can't," as the Sword came back down into the Cup with more force. The Cup rocked, tipped slightly from the force, and something dark, warm and slick leaked from the Cup onto the floor by his knee.
Behind him, the irritating ghost of the loo screamed and dove into the nearest toilet with a splash of water that soaked the floor.
Then suddenly a dying scream filled the bathroom. The sink and toilets all gushed a huge amount of water mixing with the dark, black-red ooze from the Cup itself. Then nothing.
The entire bathroom was flooded with water the color of blood red. Draco let go of the Cup, placed a hand on the sink and carefully stood up. He was drenched in the horrible liquid.
He looked over at Hermione holding the Sword with both hands, the Cup now impaled on the Sword. She however was only wet from her legs to her shoes.
"So that was a Horcrux," Draco stated, looking at his arm, seeing a thin slash on his right forearm. "You cut me."
"You knew it was a Horcrux?" she asked, gobsmacked.
He looked up at her. "Yes, I know what they are and why they are said to have been used. I've – this is the first one I have encountered, thank Merlin. But I think I – no, I know why the Dark Lord would make one—"
"Six," she interrupted him.
Now he was the one gobsmacked. "SIX! He made six?"
"Yes," she affirmed, and he stared at her trying to wrap his mind around her affirmation. "Six. Tom Riddle's diary that Ginny had, a ring from the Gaunt family, Salazar Slytherin's locket, this cup, and we believe his snake is another."
"That's only five," Draco stated, even more horrified. "Are they all like this one?"
"I think so, yes," Hermione said, trying to remove the Cup from the Sword by pushing down along the flat of the blade with her foot.
"What's the sixth one?" he asked as the Cup fell to the floor, sounding like a broken, hollow gold cup should.
Hermione looked up at him. "We don't know. Yet."
~~~o0o~~~
Author's Notes:
One Horcrux down – two to go.
I'm not at all sure how the ownership of the vaults are overseen in J.K. Rowling's Potterverse, so I made up my own. I'm sure that lines of hereditary ownership are established by the current owners for the accounts (changed as stated in wills or by signed documents from the owner). Sirius left his contents to Harry in his will.
But since Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan were all imprisoned in Azkaban in 1981 (given a life sentence with no chance of parole or release) and escaped as fugitives in1996 during the mass breakout when the Dark Lord recovered to his full strength – their legal standing might have been in question until the Dark Lord's takeover of the Ministry. Also, it seemed as if Bellatrix had moved into the Malfoy's home upon her escape and in 1997 none of the Lestranges had children. Yet. Therefore, as a claim of artistic license, I made Draco heir to their fortune, conveniently giving me writer's access to the Lestrange family vault.