THE MANOR

Disclaimer: Not mine. JKR's.

Chapter 15 – Revenge, sweet revenge …

Ron sighed. Freedom wasn't all it was hyped up to be.

He and Hermione had been roaming about the dungeons for the last half hour or so, in an attempt to find the way out. Their initially enthusiastic, bouncing, half-running brisk pace was soon slackened by the fact that they only ever encountered locked doors and dead ends. Ron, completely dispirited, lagged behind, while Hermione walked just a bit more rapidly, a few paces ahead of him, still a holding some remnant of eagerness with their "escape," as she called it. In Ron's opinions, a true escape meant getting out of the prison, not just the cell.

'Hurry up, Ron,' Hermione said impatiently, as she walked along.

Ron sighed yet again in response. Why bother? There was no way out. They were stuck. All the corridors in these dungeons looked exactly the same – greyish, damp, moulding stone, with the only source of light provided by fairly regularly spaced torches that flared that really annoying shade of blue-green light, which cast an eerie shadow about them. A shadow which would make Ron jump occasionally, certain that somebody was following them, or some other paranoid fear like that.

Then, Hermione stopped stock still. 'Ron!'

Ron stopped in response. 'What is it?' he asked grumpily, fed up, looking at her rigid form.

'That door! It's opened!' She pointed at the door ahead on the right side, which shows just a slight, open crack in the darkness. Ron's eyes brightened. An unlocked door! The two teenagers virtually raced each other in their desperation to get out through the heavy wooden door.

Less than a minute later, they were out, coming back into the corridor through the same door, with decidedly green faces.

'I didn't even know you could do that to people,' Ron said, voice weak, standing just outside the door.

'That hand, twisted into that shape,' Hermione shuddered, standing next to him, leaning on the wall for support.

'I can't even figure out what some of that equipment does,' Ron added. 'The head tortured out of shape …how?'

'Don't,' Hermione said feebly, her face blanched, and she raised a hand to her mouth suddenly. 'I think I'm going to be sick.'

She threw up.

Ron looked at her, stomach heaving. 'Good idea.' He promptly vomited out the remnants of his prison-cell bread and water cuisine.

After the two regained some measure of composure, they continued walking through the dungeons, faces subdued. Occasionally, they would look through barred windows of locked doors to find items of interest, although, occasionally, if the room smelt funny, Hermione would make Ron look through first to check there was nothing graphically disturbing.

'Look, a potions room,' Hermione pointed at one room they passed by drearily.

Ron looked in through the not-too rusted iron bars, to see tables strewn with potions equipment, cauldrons, and multitudes of ingredients, some of which he could actually recognise, thanks to 1001 Magical Herbs and Fungi.

'There are an awful lot of poisons,' Hermione sniffed disapprovingly, making a quick inventory of the contents of the potions room.

'Why are all potions rooms in dungeons?' Ron wondered out loud.

'They're not,' Hermione said quickly. 'The potions lab of the famous Potions Wizard Ale Redroot is found in a lovely little chateau in Switzerland, apparently. And the great American Potions Master, Harvard Yale, works in a very sterilised, clean, white science laboratory.'

Ron rolled his eyes. Trust Hermione to know everything. 'Then whoever's' potions lab this is must have gone through Hogwarts,' he deduced. It looked fairly similar to their potions labs in Hogwarts – a place he absolutely loathed, partially due to the teacher who taught the subject.

They continued walking, seeing nothing of real interest, when Hermione suddenly stopped, and grabbed Ron's arm. 'Listen!' she hissed.

Ron stopped moving, and his face whitened with Hermione's as the two escaped prisoners heard the sound of footsteps – one pair rather heavy, the other lighter. Hermione and Ron looked around desperately, and Hermione pulled on Ron's arm, gesturing to the corner, and the two rushed around it. They stood quietly, backs pressed against the cold, clammy wall, hearts thumping loudly, listening as two wizards dressed in black robes with black hoods went past them.

'The Dark Lord's going to have your hide, Macnair, when he finds out you've lost those kids,' one of the Death-Eaters laughed coarsely. 'How hard is it to make sure two kids,' he sneered, 'don't escape?'

'Shut your trap, Avery,' Macnair snarled. 'He won't get mad, because I'll find those two kids.'

'You're still an idiot,' Avery said, not very pleasantly. 'The Dark Lord isn't going to be happy at all,' he said, and whistled a tuneless melody rather cheerfully.

'Have you told the others to help?' Macnair grunted.

'Crabbe and Goyle. I didn't think you'd like it if I got that slime Nott to help – he'd go running straight into the arms of the Dark Lord himself,' Avery said, laughing crudely. 'Nott tends to do things like that, you know.'

'Only Crabbe and Goyle?' Macnair sounded disappointed. 'Those two lumps of stone wouldn't be able to find Harry Potter if they were locked into a room with him.'

'You're not exactly intelligence exemplified,' Avery said dryly.

Macnair just grunted again, whether in agreement or not, was unclear.

'I got Parkinson and Uringar to search too. They have bodyguards with them, the pompous gits,' Avery snorted. 'They can help with the search.'

'Good,' Macnair said, his low voice growling. 'If the Dark Lord found out the two kids were missing, he'd be having more than just my hide.'

'Oh, don't worry Walden dear,' Avery said sarcastically. 'I'm aware of that. Why do you think I'm helping you?' He laughed again, a rough sound that grated on Hermione's ears, listening fearfully as she was.

The two passed on, footsteps sounding along until they faded away.

Hermione and Ron turned to each other in the semi-darkness, eyes meeting. Shit. Cautiously, they moved out from their hiding position, and began walking again.

'Well at least Voldemort doesn't know we've escaped,' Hermione noted in a low voice, trying to be optimistic.

'Wonderful,' Ron said flatly, not at all excited.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron was so pessimistic sometimes. 'Should we follow them?' she whispered to Ron.

'Why?' Ron asked, also in a whisper, confused.

'They should know a way out,' Hermione pointed out reasonably.

Ron nodded, and the two began creeping along silently in the direction the two Death-Eater's footsteps had gone.

Moments later, they heard yet more footsteps, and ducked away just in time, and glimpsed two large trollish figures who resembled Crabbe and Goyle from school. Their conversation was minimal. It mainly consisted of:

Grunt.

Grunt, grunt.

Grunt.

Grunt.

Grunt, grunt.

The "grunts" did have a variety of inflection though, so it must have meant something to Crabbe and Goyle snrs., but not very much to Hermione and Ron. They left rapidly though, so Hermione and Ron continued on their way.

'I wish we weren't in this mess,' Hermione said longingly. She looked around her at the endless corridors, all of which seemed to show no end. 'Harry will probably come – we'll be too late – and then all hope is gone,' she said, a tinge of gloom in her voice. 'But then again, I wish Harry were here to get us out of this mess. He always does. But I shouldn't want him here,' she added moodily.

Now that Hermione had lost her bouncy enthusiasm, Ron felt somewhat less glum, and sought to comfort her. 'Don't worry,' he said, voice as reassuring as he could possibly make it. His eyes brightened. 'Maybe the reason we haven't found a way out is because they have secret doors!' he suggested, remembering his old adventure comics from younger days.

Hermione glanced at him quizzically. Obviously she'd never read those adventure comics with tales of Martin the Muggle, or Wally the Warlock Apprentice.

'You know, like false walls or trap doors. They could be anywhere!' Ron said enthusiastically. He banged the wall next to him. 'Okay, this one is solid.'

'That's a hopeless idea,' Hermione said. 'We'd never get anywhere if we kept banging on walls. Beside, you probably also need a password, or a spell of some sort to get through. And how could you bang on every single wall?' she demanded, deflating Ron's zeal just slightly.

'What else could we do?' Ron defended his idea. He rather liked the idea of being a comic-book hero like Wally. He continued walking, the process agonisingly slow, as he stopped with every step he took to thump the wall next to him. Hermione watched him, and after a moment of silent contemplation, did the same.

It took them about fifteen minutes to walk fifteen metres, when they reached a fork in the corridors.

'A fork,' Hermione said as she saw the division.

'Which way should we go?' Ron asked looking at that ominous fork.

'Does it make a difference?' Hermione asked cynically. She shrugged, and turned right, and stopped dead.

'Hey!' Death-Eaters robed in black had been walking down the corridor, and had caught sight of them. 'Look! It's the prisoners!'

Hermione glanced at Ron, looks of panic in both their faces. 'Run!' they said simultaneously, and turned to the left fork. Ron sprinted as fast as he could, when he saw a sharp bolt of crimson light strike his leg, and felt a sickening crack in his left leg, causing him to give a cry of pain. It had been broken, and flailing his arms, all the while biting his lip, he fell backwards into the wall. Only, it was no wall, but one of those "secret walls" he had been fantasising about.

'Hermione!' he shouted, exuberant in his discovery.

There was no answer, and he looked through the wall, to see no sign of Hermione. Dragging himself closer, he looked to the right, to see Hermione lying prostrate on the ground in a collapsed heap. Two of the Death-Eaters hauled her unconscious figure up, and carrying her, they walked off in the opposite direction.

'What about the boy?' one of the Death-Eaters asked.

'Leave him,' another, who Ron recognised as Avery from previously, said. 'The important one is the girl. The Weasley spawn can rot in hell for all he cares. He can't get away. Not with his leg broken anyway, so nobody can be warned.'

Ron sank back through the false wall, tears stinging in his eyes, watching his best friend carried off as he lay, unable to help her.

***

Harry and Draco landed just outside massive gates of iron of Malfoy Manor. Harry gazed about in barely hidden awe, trying to ignore the foreboding he felt that came from the continual slight pain that persistently burned in his scar. Malfoy Manor was hugely impressive, after all. Even the gates themselves – thick, unrusted iron, with nastily sharp looking spikes on the end. Where the gates locked together, the iron had been wrought into the form of two intertwined, flowing "M"s.

'Stop gawping, Potter,' Draco said briskly.

Harry wrenched his attention back to Draco. 'How do we get through the gates?' he asked, focusing on the pale-haired boy. He had a feeling a simple unlocking charm probably wouldn't work. Squinting, he judged the distance to get over, and looked at those menacingly sharp pointed ends on the gates … maybe not.

Draco shrugged, and went forward to the lock, placing his hand on the intertwined "M"s. At once, the two Ms slithered, like liquid, untangling themselves, and allowing the gates to open themselves.

'Not bad,' Harry conceded. Draco Malfoy was proving himself useful after all.

'You wouldn't be able to get in otherwise,' Draco said over his shoulder to Harry as they walked through the gates after depositing their precious broomsticks, protected by a charm, underneath some bushes outside the gates. 'Only somebody of Death-Eater blood would be able to open the gates.'

'You're a Death-Eater?' Harry recoiled, voice half-raised in panic.

The pale boy smiled, a curiously sinister curving of the lips in the shady moonlight, and the gates slammed shut, leaving Harry with a sinking feeling in his stomach, just as Draco spoke again. 'No, of course not,' he said crisply. 'But my father is, and I was born after he was inducted. So, technically, I have Death-Eater blood.'

Harry found comfort in those words, and curiously asked. 'How does your mother get in? Or the servants? Are they Death-Eaters?'

'House-elves don't like to leave the Manor in any case, although we do have some human servants. Before a certain somebody moved in, one had to be of Malfoy blood to open the gates, and the servants would see my mother when they wanted to go in and out. The rules have changed somewhat, so recently, mother and the servants have been spending a lot of time on the grounds,' Draco said, voice bland, yet his lips held a bitter twist.

'They're prisoners?' Harry said, horrified.

'Officially, no.'

Harry shook his head, feeling sorry for the servants, and also, oddly, for Narcissa Malfoy. He had met her only once, and she had appeared a cold woman, but surely, being kept prisoner by her husband was something not to be endured. Lost in these thoughts, he walked forwards absently.

'Stop, Potter!' Draco barked.

Harry halted mid-step, turning around at Draco curiously. Draco had reached him, and jerked him back, just as the path ahead where Harry had been about to step became littered with sharp, jagged pieces of broken glass.

'Shit,' Harry breathed, looking at the profusion of glass that could have completely devastated and scarred his feet for life.

'Just in case anybody wanders around in here without Malfoy permission,' Draco said shortly. 'Do not under any case walk away without me here. I know the tricks and traps here, you don't.'

'And you live in this place?' Harry asked, shaking his head. Malfoy Manor was very grand and beautiful, yes, but to live in a place which was a perpetual trap with many dangerous and dark objects? Harry shuddered.

'Better than living with those Muggles you live with,' Draco retorted.

'At least they weren't trying to kill me.'

'I'm not getting killed. It's targeted at unwanted trespassers.'

Harry shook his head, and continued, careful to walk a step or two behind Draco as they passed through the formal, elegant and beautiful gardens with its carefully manicured hedges, flowers, rose bushes and marble statues and fountains … and the odd dangerous trap here and there.

After a few minutes walking in such a manner, Harry suddenly smelt the most beautiful and wonderful fragrance he had ever dreamed of. The scent was gorgeously overpowering, and almost in a kind of daze, he found himself wandering off into the direction of that dazzlingly exquisite aroma.

Draco looked over his shoulder to see now Harry. 'Potter!' he shouted into the darkness. There was no answer, and cursing, he looked around him, to see Harry wandering off, bemusedly, somehow managing to avoid the curses that lay around him.

'Petrificus totalus!' Draco cast the spell of Harry, freezing the oblivious boy. Then, he went over to the boy and dragged him back to the path they were on, and a bit further, before releasing him.

'Shit, Draco,' Harry swore.

'You complete idiot, Potter,' Draco said furiously. 'You complete idiot. I thought you were supposed to have remarkable mind control.'

'Why would I need mind control?'

'You were smelling the Flower of Desire,' Draco said, 'which very skilfully, casts something akin to the Imperius curse on the victim. Which you didn't even bother fighting.'

'It was just a nice smell!' Harry protested.

'Can't you even tell?' Draco asked, disgusted. 'It's not very helpful if you're just a dumb hero.'

Stung, Harry didn't bother answering back, but got to his feet, and continued to follow Draco on their path to the Manor, trying his utter best not to breathe through his nose in an attempt not to smell anything else dangerous.

As they walked along, Harry suddenly felt a familiar wash of despair and fear flow through him.

'Not Harry!' the cry of a young woman echoed through his mind, and he saw again, the flash of his mother, Lily Potter, holding a baby to her chest, and the fatal green light that appeared with the cruel cold cackle even as his scar screamed in painful agony. And then, he saw again, Cedric Diggory fall to the ground as a green bolt of light struck him. His form was lifeless on the ground.

He felt a hand grasp his arm tightly.

'Potter!' he heard a faint voice that sounded from afar, and he wrenched himself away from that terrible scene.

Harry blinked.

Draco Malfoy was standing in front of him. 'Dementors, I forgot to warn you,' he said, voice tight. 'When head Weasley banished those things from Azkaban, several of them made their way here to act as guards. They're standing right before the doors to the Manor, and they're posted near all the entrances.'

He pointed to the large front door which could be seen in the distance. Four black robed Dementors stood there, and it took all of Harry's effort not to be influenced from them at that distance. Harry noticed, though, that Draco's face was shining with sweat, and that the pupils of his grey eyes had dilated fearfully so that his eyes looked almost black.

'Let's move right along,' Harry suggested, voice weak.

Draco nodded. 'One of your better ideas,' he said dryly, and continued walking, Harry following him, until they reached what looked to Harry to be a garden shed.

'Why are we here?' he asked Draco.

'There's a secret passage leading from here to the dungeons,' Draco said, looking around the empty shed. 'I didn't think it'd be a good idea to just march into the house, even if we could get past the Dementors. Besides this route is more direct.'

'How can you be sure Hermione and Ron are in the dungeons?' Harry demanded. He was trusting Draco too much.

Draco touched a hand to his chest again in that odd peculiar gesture he kept repeating, and smiled bleakly. 'I know.' He paced around the shed, muttering to himself as he searched for the fancy way in. Then, he smiled triumphantly. 'Aha! Knew I remembered it!'

He had stopped before a segment of the floor which looked like any other patch of floor, with no seams or anything – nothing that could identify it from the rest. It helped Draco though, evidently, as the pale boy felt along the floor, and suddenly, with a bit of effort, pulled up a board to reveal a trap door.

Draco pulled open the crudely fashioned trap door, and stepped down, while Harry stared, fascinated. He looked up from where he stood. 'Coming, Potter?'

Harry hastily moved towards the trap door, and clambered down the trapdoor to find himself in a corridor of stone. The ceiling was very low, and he stood, stooped, feeling like Alice in Wonderland or something along those lines. Draco, meanwhile, pulled the trapdoor shut.

'What about that piece of floor on top?' Harry asked Draco curiously. 'Wouldn't that tell people we'd used the trap door if it weren't replaced.'

Draco gave him a condescending look. 'Of course not,' he said, moving along the corridor, also stooped. 'Magic. The piece of floor will cover the trap door the moment its closed.'

Then, he stopped, and eyed Harry. 'I think it'd be a good idea if we used your Cloak. There are people about, and we don't really want to be seen, do we?'

Harry nodded, and pulled out the Invisibility Cloak. He felt uncomfortable standing under it in such close proximity to his old school enemy, but it was unavoidable, so he bore it as best as he could.

The two moved on, the corridor enlarging before long so they could stand upright. Several times, they passed a black robed Death-Eater. Whenever this happened, both Harry and Draco stopped, standing close to the wall, and trying not to breathe. One time, Harry had felt the terrible compulsion to sneeze, but managed to wait with some inhuman effort until after the Death Eater had moved on.

'Do you know where we are going?' Harry asked as they walked through the seemingly never-ending maze. 'I mean, they all look the same, and there are no markings or anything. Are you sure you know?'

'Of course,' Draco sounded offended he even asked.

'Forget it,' Harry muttered, and continued following Draco. 'These dungeons are huge,' Harry remarked after a while.

'Yes,' Draco acknowledged. 'They're basically under the entire House, and much of the surrounding gardens.'

'You have that many people to lock up?'

'Not now. But back in the earlier days of my family, the dungeons came in useful. They were here before the current House was built. This House dates from the eighteenth century, but the dungeons have been here since the middle of the Medieval period.'

'Your family's that old?' Harry gasped.

'Isn't yours?'

Harry pondered this and found he had no idea.

'Is my family old?' he asked presently.

'I would think so,' Draco said absently, looking around. 'I hope you'll excuse me for never having researched Potter family history, so I wouldn't really know for sure.'

He turned another corner purposefully, when Harry heard the slight moaning sound of somebody in pain and trying hard not to show it. 'Somebody's hurt,' he hissed to Draco.

'Very sad,' Draco said, walking on.

'What if it's them?' Harry asked, unwilling to budge.

'Hermione's not there,' Draco said curtly. 'Let's go.'

'But somebody else is hurt,' Harry insisted.

Draco was forced to stop, or else the Invisibility Cloak would slip off him. 'Where did the noise come from?' he asked brusquely.

'There,' Harry pointed. 'But that's solid wall …'

Draco ignored him. 'One of the false walls,' he said, nodding. 'You can go right through it, but it leads to nothing.'

Harry pushed through the false wall, and found Ron lying with his leg broken, in a small room that looked like it had been used for storage. It was fairly dark, but a dim light enabled him to see his pale looking friend. Ron, not seeing Harry with the Invisibility Cloak, was shifting his leg in pain, even as he spoke, to Harry's incredulity.

'Ginseng. This root, that has been said to take the shape of a man, has many healing properties…' Ron's voice trailed off as Harry pulled of the Invisibility Cloak. 'Harry?' his voice nearly squeaked, so glad he was to see his friend.

'It's me,' Harry said, grinning. 'What happened to your leg?'

'Broken by those blasted Death-Eaters,' Ron said, face white as his leg continued to hurt. Then, his eyes looked behind Harry to Draco, who had just walked in through the false wall.

'You!' Ron gasped.

'Where's Hermione?' Draco demanded. 'How did you lose her, Weasley?'

'You, you, hell-hole bastard!' Ron spluttered. And with some sort of superhuman strength, considering his injuries, managed to punch Draco in the stomach.

'What are you doing?' Harry asked, alarmed, as Draco wheezed, doubled over.

'Harry, you idiot! That bastard's trying to kill us. It's all a trap!' Ron said, glaring daggers at Draco. If his leg hadn't been broken, the pale blond boy would probably be dead already. 'He betrayed Hermione!'

Harry acted quickly, and had taken Draco's wand in an instant, and chucked it to Ron. Now, Draco was pressed against the wall, with two wands pointed at him menacingly.

'Tell us why you betrayed Hermione,' Harry said, voice chillingly quiet, face pale with fury.

'Or we will personally make sure that you will never ever again walk, or talk, or see, or hear, or do anything worth doing ever again,' Ron finished, face angrily set.

Revenge, sweet revenge

Author's note: Oh dear. It seems like I couldn't control Ron or Harry after all.