Dies Mali
Sordid Slumbers
The sound was back. Still steady and regular, neither soft, nor sharp though, but raspy. Soft. Like a short, repetitive wind. Or even softer maybe.like breath.
She closed her eyes and the second they opened she was immediately confronted by clear image. It was a small, homely cottage. As she stepped inside she could see it was furnished with only a few essential items. She walked into what she presumed was the bedroom, and was immediately faced with a pine, king size bed, with a very old man lying in it.
The old man's long silver beard trailed over the tops of the covers, and reached nearly the end of the bed. He was clad, from what she could see, in a deep purple nightgown, and a matching nightcap sat atop his white hair.
His eyes were closed, and she could see the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed in and out. A few tears pricked up in her eyes, this man, of all people, certainly did not deserve a death akin to her previous premonitions. She walked hesitantly over to the bed.
He looked older, much older, and wrinkles inhabited more of his face and skin. She could detect no immediate danger as of yet, but she had yet to have a peaceful, pain absent dream.
Nothing seemed to be happening at present, so she took this time to study the room.
Aside from the bed, only a bookshelf, wardrobe, and a large portrait clothed the room. It was simple, although nice. This must be Dumbledore's home. Deep inside, she had known that Dumbledore must have had a home somewhere, yet it still felt odd seeing him like this, away from Hogwarts. She was sure Dumbledore could have made his home more extravagant, but she supposed considering the amount of time he spent at Hogwarts, it would seem meaningless to spend copious amounts of money on a home he rarely abided.
It was during this musing that she suddenly noticed how quiet it had become. Not that it had originally been noisy, far from it; in fact, the only noise had been the soft breathing of Dumbledore.
She swung her gaze down to Dumbledore. For a moment, she stopped breathing herself. She walked stiffly over to the bed, and released a shaky breath. The shade of his skin had reached an even more pallid shade of pale, his lips were an icy blue, and the rise and fall of his chest had ceased.
Slowly and steadily she turned and retreated, although unsure of where to go. By the time she had exited the cottage and perched herself on a bench outside, she felt a little more unsteady. Why was she still here? Shouldn't she have woken by now?
Suddenly she heard voices shouting in the distance. It was night, so it was too dark to see anything, but she could hear the sound of footsteps getting closer and closer. As they got nearer, she began to pick up a few things they were saying.
".surprise attack."
". warn Dumbledore before its too late."
".poison."
Poison?
Did they think someone had poisoned Dumbledore, but he died in his.
The glass.
She hadn't really taken it in earlier, but there had been a single glass sat atop the kitchen table. It hadn't crossed her as unusual then, but.maybe.
She hastily hurried back inside the kitchen. She snatched the glass from the table and inhaled its scent. Poison. A mixture of underslang, bloomwood, and ivy if she wasn't mistaken. A particularly manipulative drink, disguised in the colour of a Dreamless Sleep potion, making it easy for the drinker to simply drink from the wrong glass 'accidentally'.
She hastily placed it back on the table just in time. As merely a second later, the front door crashed down, and an older looking Harry Potter barged in, followed by a small team of Aurors. They rushed into the bedroom, and then there was a thick silence.
It was Harry who pushed his way through the people and into the kitchen first. He gave a sad, resentful sigh and slunk into one of the kitchen chairs, letting his head fall into his hands. Abruptly, his head flew back up, and he properly noticed the glass.
Following Hermione's pattern, he picked it up, smelt it, and then put it back, the same thoughts apparently running through his head.
Both Hermione and Harry jumped suddenly as the handle of the front door shook slightly, lowered, and then the front door was pushed open.
In walked the last person either of them could expect to see. Albus Dumbledore.
Hermione screamed. And Harry, obviously not being able to hear Hermione, simply stared. Then snapping back into motion Harry pulled out his wand, aiming it at Dumbledore's head.
"Who are you?" Harry growled.
Dumbledore looked a little shocked, and slightly confused. "What do you mean, Harry?"
"I mean what I said," he snapped. "Who are you?"
"I am afraid I don't understand, Harry. Please lower your wand, and then you can explain." He gestured to Harry's wand which was only a few inches from his face, "this to me."
"Lower my wand? Do you take me for a complete moron? If you don't tell me who you are now, I'll just have to find out later with a favourite potion of mine."
"Harry, I'm sorry, but I really do not understand the meaning of this."
"You killed him. You fucking killed him. And you actually have the nerve, and the guts, to walk in looking like him." Harry gave a slightly hysterical laugh.
Before Dumbledore, or who ever he was, could reply, one of the other men came out into the kitchen.
"Great Merlin!" And he too whipped out his wand. "Who the hell are you?"
"That's exactly what I want to know," Harry said.
"Harry," Dumbledore said calmly, "it's almost eleven o'clock; now, I don't know about you, but I like to be in bed by eleven. I find that less than eight hours sleep can make me incredibly grouchy in the morning. So if you'll excuse me, perhaps we could talk about this tomorrow when we both have a clear head."
"I think my head's clear enough right now; what about you, Jones?" Harry said.
"Feeling pretty level-headed over here too Harry," Jones replied.
Taking in the tension fully now, he caved slightly. "If that's the way you feel, then let me just hang my coat up, and we could have a discussion over some hot chocolate." And Dumbledore pushed past Jones and into his bedroom, where five other Aurors immediately confronted him.
Harry, Jones, and an unnoticed Hermione followed Dumbledore through to the bedroom.
Only, when they got in the bedroom, the scene before them was quite unexpected. Instead of the Aurors crowded round Dumbledore, wands out, everyone was flocking round the bed. Hermione slipped through a small gap to the front, curious as to what the commotion was about.
The first, and most divergent difference was that a bald, smaller, slightly chubby man lay in Dumbledores place.
Harry was pushing his way to the front, demanding to know what was going on.
"It just happened," one woman said.
"He just.changed," another said, somewhat dazed.
"What change- Oh," Harry said, reaching the front of the crowd. "Pettigrew." He hissed.
Five minutes later everyone was sat around the kitchen table clutching mugs of hot chocolate. Hermione's mind was reeling as she stood a few metres from the Aurors, Harry and Dumbledore. From what they were saying, Pettigrew had known about Dumbledore's planned murder. He had drunk a Polyjuice potion, and taken the place of Dumbledore. He had swallowed the poison, and died for Dumbledore.
It sounded, Harry admitted, that Pettigrew had finally repaid the favour he owed Harry for saving his life. Voldemort and his supporters now deemed Dumbledore dead, and they had the advantage of a surprise attack.
Hermione, although generally pleased by this good news, was not entirely content. There was still this nagging feeling that something was wrong. When had she ever had a premonition of someone's death, where he or she had not died? Not that she wasn't grateful for it, but it just wasn't right. Unless.maybe this was just an ordinary dream.
She didn't have premonitions every night, so maybe this was just a normal dream. Yes, just a slightly odd, but normal dream. It was beginning to sound pretty convincing.
She didn't want nor need to listen to what they were now talking about, so, nearly convinced it was just a dream, she wandered back outside into the night.
Once again, she had only sat down on the bench for a few minutes, before she distinguished other sets of footsteps heading in her direction.
Soon, the figure had come close enough for her to achieve a clear image. They were fully clad in black. With some sort of mask on, shielding identity of their face. They crept quietly along the grass, routing round to the side of the house, and positioning themselves just below an open window.
Uneasiness was creeping up on her rapidly, and slipped back inside. She wasn't stupid. The figure outside wasn't sneaking up to deliver a bunch of flowers. It looked like he was out to kill. And she recognized that mask. It was the mask of a Death Eater.
Regrettably, everybody inside was in a loud discussion entertained by Dumbledore, who was causing many uproars of laughter as he described what prank a first year student pulled on Snape.
Hermione was panicking. Dumbledore happened to be seated right in front of the open window. It was apparent that no one had heard the approaching stranger, only she knew of their existence.
Frantically she started shouting, moving objects, anything to try and capture their attention. Unfortunately none of them could see or hear her.
And suddenly a rush of blue light shot through the air, piercing straight into the back of Dumbledore.
Everyone froze. Silently waiting for something truly terrible to happen. But a few moments later, one nothing apparent had occurred, someone finally spoke.
"Does anyone know which curse it was? Harry? Dumbledore?" Jones asked.
" A blue light isn't much to go on Jones, we didn't even hear the curse." Harry sighed. "Do you feel any different?" he added, looking to Dumbledore.
"I'm afraid I cannot say I do." Dumbledore said.
Hermione at the present time was trying to capture their attention again. She had heard the curse.
Sicco Sanguis.
Drain Blood.
She had only rarely come across this curse during her reading, as it was such a torturous way to die, that not many dared use it. You also had to have an immense power to control the use of this curse.
The person cursed would feel no immediate pain, but after thirty minutes or so, a small cut would appear. A small unnoticeable paper cut size slit. But as the person cursed fell asleep, blood would start to seep out. Slowly at first, then gradually increasing. By morning, most blood would have escaped the body. Only enough would be left to allow the person the energy to wake, and discover what had happened to them. An hour later, they would have shrivelled up and died. Very unpleasant.
And if Harry and the Aurors left now, Dumbledore would be dead by sunrise.
But she had no way of contacting them. Anything she did or said, they could not see or hear.
She could pick up objects, but it seemed like anything she did pick up, became invisible to the real world. She had been waving a pen right in front of Harry's face for a good ten minutes before she'd given up hope.
However much she wanted to help, she knew she couldn't.
She had tried, time after time to help people before. Especially when she first began her premonitions. She'd had the naïve idea she could actually prevent the deaths.
.But maybe.maybe this time could be different.she had to help Dumbledore.
She had an idea.
She watched Harry get up and pour himself another cup of hot chocolate, return to the table, and put in on the place mat for a few minutes to cool.
Hoping her plan may work, she then picked up the mug, emptied the contents in the sink, and replaced the mug back to its original place.
Harry, obviously not noticing any of this, reached in the retrieve his mug. Then, without looking, blew gently and took a sip.
In the middle of his sip, he then realised that he didn't actually have any drink to sip.
"Who drank my hot chocolate?" Harry enquired looking around.
"What?" one man asked.
"Who drank my hot chocolate?" Harry repeated. "I just got myself a refill, and now its gone."
"Are you sure you didn't drink it Harry?" the man said, sounding slightly amused.
"I'm sure." Harry's face was growing more and more confused.
"Harry," Dumbledore said, "we have more important matters to worry about. Like the curse."
Harry shook his head slightly, as if trying to shake away his thoughts. "Sorry, it's just a little strange." And got up to once again refill his mug.
And once again, the second Harry put his mug down; Hermione picked it up, and repeated her actions.
"Okay. Whoever's draining my mug can you please stop," Harry said, slightly agitated, "it's not funny anymore."
"Er, Harry, none of us are." Jones answered.
"Well, someone has to be doing it. Unless," he said, turning to Dumbledore, "you have enchanted mugs."
Dumbledore shook his head solemnly, "no item of furniture nor cutlery is enchanted in my home. Here, pass me your mug and I'll refill it this time."
Slightly disgruntled Harry handed him the mug. When it was returned to him he placed it on the placemat and watched it intently.
Certain that her presence would be noticed this time; she seized the opportunity and reclaimed the mug.
"My mug!" Harry exclaimed. "Its disappeared!"
"Where has it gone?" Jones cried.
For some reason, everyone turned to look at Dumbledore. "I am at as much of a loss as you are I am afraid."
"Maybe there's a ghost." One of the Aurors said.
"A ghost?" Harry said, with an edge of disbelief.
"Yer. Everyone gets ghosts at some point. My next door neighbour had one last week."
"But don't ghosts normally live in houses for a long period of time?" Harry queried, remembering the Weasley's ghoul in their attic.
"Not always," The Auror countered, "My neighbour only had the ghost in her house for a week. It had been smashing all her cutlery so obviously it had to go."
"What do you mean it had to go? Why would anyone want a ghost to live in their house?" Harry asked, somewhat aghast.
"Sometimes they can be useful-if they're quiet that is," the Auror insisted. " My brother had a poltergeist living in his basement for a good few years. It helped scare away any intruders, and it was brilliant with his kids, he never needed a babysitter."
Hermione walked over to the sink, emptied it, and started filling it with water.
"It is a ghost!" someone yelled, pointing at the sink. "The tap's running all by itself!"
"Merlin, you're right!" someone said just before falling backwards off his chair.
She restored the mug to its original place. Harry peered into it.
"Well, the ghost isn't very smart." He finally said, a little unsteadily.
"Why do you say that Harry?" Dumbledore said, clearly amused by the whole situation.
"Because they've been tipping away all my hot chocolate-which I wanted, and instead giving me water."
"Dumbledore smiled. "Maybe they're simply concerned about your health."
Harry snorted. "Well, the ghost should be able to see I am perfectly fit, and after my day, deserve a hot chocolate."
"Do you think there a good ghost, or a bad one?" Jones whispered.
Dumbledore gave a small laugh. "I have a feeling they're good."
With a short smile Harry turned to Dumbledore, "do you know something we don't?"
"No, of course not Harry."
Harry didn't know why, but Dumbledore seemed to be enjoying this, or at least finding some amusement from it. Especially considering he's just been cursed with.something. They really needed to get to work on that.
"Do you think the ghost has got anything to do with the curse?" Someone questioned suddenly.
Dumbledore became serious. "That's a good idea, it could well do. Although I am at a bit of a loss as to why someone would want to send me a friendly ghost." He chuckled.
"It would explain its sudden presence," Harry added, joining in the conversation.
"I have a feeling it was with us before the curse." Dumbledore said.
"How?" Harry asked.
"I honestly do not know. But when I entered the kitchen for the first time, I could just sense something. I went for a while when I walked into the bedroom, but then I think it joined us. And it's here with us now." Dumbledore gave a small smile, "that's just what I believe though."
"The incredible," one of the Aurors said, "How you can just.feel all of that."
"I don't think it's a ghost," a woman said, who had so far not spoken.
"If it's not a ghost, what do your propose it is Miss Trelawney?" Dumbledore asked gently.
"Camilla, please," she smiled. "Although superstitious, like my mother, I am not as gullible as her. Not everything in this universe has a simple explanation." Noticing everyone was listening keenly, she carried on. "For instance, the 'ghost' could be a time traveller, lost in this dimension. Or a seer, trapped in a vision," she paused, giving Harry a quick glance. "I say we find a way to contact them"
"How do you suggest we do that?" asked Jones.
"Well," Camilla fidgeted a slightly, feeling a little excited, "for each.thing.they are different ways. If you really do believe this is a ghost, then a calling or a board."
"What do you suggest we do Miss Trelawney?" Dumbledore prodded, "you are of course, the expert."
She blushed. "I don't honestly think we are dealing with a ghost here. I believe it's something else. I suggest we reveal the spirit." Her eyes glinted slightly.
Jones gulped quietly. "How.how do we do that?"
Camilla's eyes glinted again, and she gave a small, seemingly malicious smile. "All I need is some chalk, Lavender scented candles, and your cooperation."
"I believe those items can be provided," said Dumbledore. He flicked his wand and Harry's mug became a piece of chalk, and a few of the place mats became candles.
Camilla smiled a grateful nod at Dumbledore and began arranging everything to her suiting.
"We never did anything like this at Hogwarts." Harry murmured to Jones next to him.
"Would you think it wise to trust children with this much power?" Dumbledore interrupted.
Harry eyed Camilla and shuddered a little. "No"
"Very few people can do this type of magic Harry. I hold the utmost respect for her." Dumbledore added quietly.
"Okay." Camilla said brightly, "Let's begin."
Everyone seated themselves back around the table.
"Everyone needs to join hands with the person next them. Now just listen and wait"
Camilla closed her eyes, as if to help her concentrate. No one else shut their eyes though, too determined to see this hidden spirit.
Reveal all those hidden Invisible to the common eye, Bring them forth, expose them, Reveal them to my eye,
Slowly but surely, a soft wind began to creep through the cottage. The candles flicked out. And Hermione felt herself being drawn to the small circle Camilla had sketched into the floorboards. They colours in the room somehow seemed to be fading out. As if the colour was trying to transport itself to Hermione.
Eager to be seen, Hermione stepped inside the circle.
Suddenly, the colour flooded back into the room. The lights still remained off, and it made hardly any difference, but it was still noticed by everyone.
"What happened?" Someone whispered.
Camilla opened her eyes. "The spirit wants to be seen. The spell only works when they don't."
"So what happens now? Will we not be able to see them?" The same person asked.
"We won't be able to see them, no. But the ability of their sight to us, transports to the ability of sound."
"So.we can hear them?"
"Yes."
Hermione could avidly see a small cut forming on the top of Dumbledore's thumb. It was only small, and in a place where no one would see. And if they did, it would not appear unusual. She had only noticed because she'd been searching for one. Unsure of how long she would be held here, she started to speak.
"I am not a ghost."
Any whispering that may have been occurring seized immediately. And a very thick silence filled air.
"I am what you would call a seer."
"Tell us about yourself" Camilla said softly, as though scared she would startle who ever it was away.
Hermione remained silent. She couldn't really tell them who she was.
Was it getting quieter, or was she just imagining it. It seemed to be getting darker as well.
Maybe.maybe she was leaving. Maybe she wouldn't be here much longer. Dumbledore had already started dying, so perhaps it was time for her to leave.
"Sicco Sanguis," she blurted out suddenly.
"Pardon?" Camilla asked, her face scrunched up in confusion.
"Maybe it doesn't speak English?" Jones suggested.
"But it spoke English just a second ago," someone whispered back.
Dumbledore who had been very quiet through all of those, suddenly seemed to snap to attention, and in doing so, knocked over one of the candles.
The wind ceased and the lights returned. Everything was normal again.
"Sorry everyone." Dumbledore finally said after a small pause.
"Does anyone remember what she said?" Harry asked in a faintly panicky voice.
"Sicco Sanguis." Dumbledore said gravely.
"What's that?" Jones said, a little calmer than Harry.
"Drain blood," Dumbledore admitted, sounding even more solemn. "It's a rare curse. Used mainly by powerful wizards, against other powerful wizards."
"You don't think.it can't be."
"I do Harry. I think that's exactly what that curse was." Dumbledore held his hand up for inspection. "There are two ways this curse can act, depending on how it was performed."
Hermione's eyebrows knotted together. Two ways? She hadn't ever read that.
"The first way," Dumbledore continued, "Is that a small cut forms, like so," he raised his thumb, "soon after the curse is administered, then slowly all the blood the body posses filters through it, you would be dead by sunrise. The second way is a sudden, abrupt loss of blood from the body. It could happen during one minute or one hour. All that's written is that the curse unfolds in a much shorter amount of time."
Everyone sat around the table was staring at Dumbledore with an aghast, horrified look.
"I think it would be best if you all departed now." Dumbledore said solemnly.
"Why?" Harry stood up rapidly, knocking his chair to the floor.
"I would prefer it if know one was around.in case." Dumbledore trailed off, not needing or wishing to finish the sentence.
"No." Harry said, shaking. "I won't let this happen to you.I can't."
"Harry," Dumbledore proceeded in standing also, "please, just do this for me, I-"
Dumbledore was cut of abruptly. His body suddenly became rigid, and a look of surprise was frozen on his face.
".please.leave." Dumbledore managed to grit out.
Everyone fled. Knowing it was time.
Harry, who had not abandoned the cottage along with the others, took one last look into Dumbledore's desperate eyes. He had never seen him look this helpless. For the sake of Dumbledore's pride, he left.
Dumbledore wheezed in a huge gulp of air, as his lung motion decreased rapidly. Every part of him was frozen solid, except for his eyes, which were moving about frantically, unsure of what would occur next.
He unexpectedly fell backwards. As he fell he shattered the back of his skull of the windowsill.
His blood, it seemed, was being split in two. Half, pouring deftly out of the deep gash in the back of his head. And the other half, slowly drying out.
His eyes rolled round as his vision ceased, so that only the whites of his eyes were showing. Wrinkles were swathing his body at a tremendous rate. So much, his face was nearly buried beneath them.
Next, his hearing disappeared. Not that that mattered much. All he could hear was his own feeble attempts to move, but his immobile body refrained him from doing so. It still felt a little odd though, like a mute button had been pressed, and a thick silence filled the air.
He could see blood now, seeping onto the floor. But suddenly he realised it didn't hurt. In fact, nothing hurt at all anymore. But it should have. It hurt a few minutes ago, but now.it didn't. He couldn't feel anything.
Hermione's mouth was clasped over her mouth, in shock, and also in some scanty idea that this might prevent her from vomiting. She too felt like she couldn't breath, from the sight portrayed in front of her very eyes.
Dumbledore's body suddenly became, if it were possible, even more rigid. As if puppet strings were pulling every vessel in his body up. As if by a swift cut of the strings, Dumbledore's body subsequently relaxed.
Blood still leaked from his skull, but something in the atmosphere had changed. And she knew it was over.
_________________________
Snape froze.
His eyes narrowed and he tried to decipher which direction the screaming was originating from.
He followed his ears up four flights of stairs, always heading towards his right.
When he reached a junction in his path he stopped and listened.
The screaming had ceased. But he was almost certain he could hear the sound of faint whimpering to his left.
The corridor, he remembered, led to a dead end. Which meant that whoever was down there didn't want to be found.
With a swish of his cloak he had stalked off down the charms corridor.
His plan to check all the classrooms down the corridor was abandoned when a high, very unnatural scream doused the air. Starting towards to very last classroom he quickened his pace to almost a run.
Still invisible to the naked eye, Hermione did not see Snape enter.
There were tears flooding down her face, and she was sobbing so much and so harshly, she was on the verge of causing herself to vomit.
She was shivering badly, although the air was not cold.
He watched as she hastily drank her glass of water, then lay back for a few moments breathing shakily.
Snape watched Hermione pick herself up, and stumble her way four flights of stairs to the 7th floor, Gryffindor Common Room.
The entire journey one hand stayed tightly gripped to the banister. Or, her fingers tiptoed along the walls. As though she was blind, and her fumbling hands guided the way for her.
The dark castle was only encouraging Hermione to sleep, and Snape could see her speed slowing as the journey progressed.
When she finally began to climb the last set of stairs, he saw her knee's shake a little and begin to buckle, causing Snape to really wonder how long this had been going on for.
"My dear! What ever have you been up to this time of night?" The fat lady exclaimed when she reached the portrait hole. "Young ladies like you should not be wandering out at these hours!"
Hermione, half asleep, gave a halfhearted muffled reply.
"Password please," the fat lady finally said.
There was a silence, in which Snape expected Hermione to utter the password. But as he looked at her with expectance he noticed she had sunk down to the floor, lying curled in a small heap. Breathing heavily and deeply. And for once, looking peaceful.
Without the password Snape was unable to return her to Gryffindor tower. And so, bent down and gently scooped her into his arms. Carrying her easily back down to his chambers.
____________________
It was more the coldness than the darkness which un-eased her this time.
It was always dark. It neither bothered nor frightened her anymore.
But it was rarely ever this cold.
There was a very gentle wind flouncing the air. And although it was not very strong, it was almost numb with iciness.
In fact, the tear that had just fallen down her face bore an ice drop by the time it reached the floor, and shattered into a million ice crystals.
The only reason she could hear the tear shatter, was due the to complete absence of noise or sound.
Her beating heart sounded like deafening drums. Her breath like a coarse wind infusing the air.
Soon, the darkness began to form shapes. Long shapes. Some thin, and some wide, some short and other so tall she could not see the top.
She felt something brush delicately along the side of her face. She shuddered and spun around. Only to be faced with nothing.
Her eyes wandered the surroundings, attempting to work out the identity of these shapes.
Casually, the wind started to pick up, prompting dark shadows to appear above her.
That continuous sound was back. On this occasion.crunchy.
Snapping of some kind was occurring, and a rustling.of leaves?
The black was prominent, but gradually fading, and greys and whites and browns were introducing themselves.
She felt a familiar brush along her right cheek and whipped her head around. It was a leaf. And as she looked back around, she could now see she was in a wood.
She felt something wet against her head, and looked up to discover the black shadows were only rain clouds. Ready to release its rain upon her.
The sense of someone's presence near by alerted her and she wheeled around.
Someone was making their way through the trees. Their feet crunched the leaves and snapped the twigs as they walked. They too had noticed the black clouds, and hoisted their hood up, but seemed by no means in a hurry to avoid the rain.
The trees were slightly lopsided and awry, tilting and leaning off in alternate directions, looking as if they had been trying to reach the rays of sunlight that made their way through the thick leaves at the very tops of the trees. Twisting and turning in attempts that had not succeeded, as all the trees gave the impression of wilting, as if light had been absent for far too long.
Although the thick leaves and branches managed to shield the sunlight, that did nothing to prevent the rain which began to trickle through the leaves. Slipping and sliding its way along the leaves, and tipping off the end to fall to the ground.
The figure traipsed further closer to her, hood still covering the majority of their face, making recognition impossible. They seated themselves underneath a looming willow tree and stared into the empty air before them, as though expecting something.
The air before them shimmered, and before she could blink a redheaded women filled it.
"Ginny. You came." The person had stood up suddenly at the moment of Ginny's arrival.
"Of course I came. Why wouldn't I?" Ginny enveloped the person in a hug. "It has been far too long Bill, I feel like I haven't seen you in years."
"Only a few months Gin. Nothing to fret about. I wasn't sure whether you would be too tied up to make it, what with all the raids." Bill said.
"I would make time for you," she smiled. "Family's more important."
Bill grinned, " I'm more Important than dying families; I'm flattered."
Ginny hit him playfully, "You know what I mean. I needed to make sure you were all right. It's so hard not being allowed to owl anyone anymore."
"Yer, everyone's finding it increasingly hard. People are becoming more frantic about loved ones. I can only imagine how Mum must be feeling about Charlie. I don't know what he's still doing in Romania. Doesn't he know there's a war on?"
"He knows. He's doing his bit over there," Ginny replied gently, sitting down beneath the tree, motioning for Bill to join her.
"I know. But can't he see, can't he imagine that it's killing mum." Bill ran his fingers through his hair. "I hate going to visit her now. All I can see is this troubled look in her eyes, and I can't make it go away. It hurts, Gin. I want to do something to make it better. But all I can do is answer 'No, sorry I haven't heard from Charlie yet' when she asks if I know how he's doing. God, why is he so selfish!" He stood up abruptly, and lobbed a stick he's been holding at a near by tree, and watched as it snapped into pieces.
He looked back to her, eyes filled with sorrow. "I hate it, I hate this."
"We all do." Ginny replied, relaxing a little. "We've still got Dumbledore though, we should be thankful for that."
"Yes," Bill admitted, "and Harry."
Ginny nodded. "I wonder how he's doing. I mean, how he's really doing."
"Probably how anyone else in his situation would."
Ginny did not reply, but instead studied the bark covering the ground.
"You still care for him don't you."
"Of course I do," she said. "I've never stopped." She looked sadly up at him, "I've just become better at hiding it. I know he never has, nor will ever be interested in me." She paused for a minute. "It just.it hurts sometimes. I don't want it too, but it just does."
"Of course it does Gin. It's like that with anyone you care about. Have you seen Mum recently? I don't suppose you have-"
"That's not my fault." She snapped, cutting him off.
"I know, I know. I'm not going to lecture you on that. You have much more important things to do. But God Gin, you just have to see her. She's so.thin. Her bones stick out everywhere. It's horrible. She bakes and bakes, and the cakes just fill up the house because she's too miserable to eat. I just.I just wish I could wave my wand and make it all better." He flopped back down and lent back on the tree, sighing dejectedly, "but I can't."
"Don't be so hard on yourself," Ginny said, resting her head on his shoulder. "Perhaps we could all put our money together and buy her a portkey to see Charlie."
"It's a nice thought. But you and I both know none of us have the money. With no owls now.well, you know how fast portkeys are going. There simply aren't enough people making them, to supply are needs for them. It's a miracle you got one for today."
"Work." Ginny answered simply.
"Still, even if you are an Auror, they don't have enough just to casually hand them out."
"Harry gave it too me. He said he knew it must be a tough time for all of us, and I deserved a break."
"That's very kind of him."
She smiled grimly, "Yer, sweet."
Bill looked Ginny directly in the eye. "How are you really doing?"
Ginny smiled weakly. "Just the same as everyone else. No better, no wor-"
"Shh." Bill interrupted, pressing his finger to his lips, silencing her.
Ginny sat rigid. Eyes blinking about surveying the forest, though she kept sending curious glances at Bill, hoping for him to somehow tell her what he had heard.
Bill moved carefully to join Ginny at the trunk of the tree, and peered round the side.
Suddenly he snapped back round looking stricken.
His pointed at his left forearm, indicating that there were Death Eaters. Then held up two fingers to inform Ginny of how many.
Ginny tapped her watch and held up her hand, all fingers and thumb outstretched. Five minutes until her portkey could transport them back.
A second ago five minutes would not have seemed enough, but now, it seemed like an eternity.
The two Death Eater were drawing closer, and although there were no paths through the woods, the Death Eaters could easily walk right by them. Although they were not clad in bright colours, they would not be hard to miss.
Ginny almost let out a sigh of relief when the Death Eaters stopped and seated themselves beside an old birch tree a reasonable distance away.
"Oh, you should have seen it," a cold, familiar voice drawled, "it was brilliant, I didn't even have to do anything except watch."
"Are you gonna tell me how it happened then?" A deep voice said, "or simply tell me how 'bloody marvellous' it was?"
"All right, all right," the first one said. "So we'd been killing these muggles, well it was more of a massacre really, there were so many! God, muggles really do bring it on themselves. So anyway, we'd been attacking the muggles when the Aurors showed up. Potter wasn't there, but Weasley was."
Bill shot a questioning look at Ginny. She shook her head. Although she'd attended many scenes like this, the voices, or what she had heard so far sounded familiar.
"Obviously," the cold voice continued, "Weasley couldn't see it was me, but I swear he just knew though."
"So what happened?"
"Well, I'd seen a few muggles escape, so deciding there was already enough of us on the scene, I slipped away after them. Weasley, of course, saw me go, and followed after me. I tailed the muggles across the road and lost them in a crowd. It would have been to open to use magic anyway. So I turned around ready to go back when I spotted Weasley crossing the road after me. He was half way across the road, when this bus came from out of nowhere. Ran straight into him!"
Ginny and Bill had both visibly paled. Ron. He was the only Auror in the family beside Ginny.
"Did he die?" the other one asked excitedly.
"Nah. Unfortunately not." The cold voice said.
"Damn. That would've been once less to worry 'bout."
"Well actually we needn't worry about him anymore."
"Why's that?"
"From what I heard he broke both his legs." He grinned maliciously.
"Really? Ha! They can't keep him in the force with two broken legs!" the deep voice laughed. "What'll happen to him?"
"He'll either be fired, or transferred to another division."
"Like what?"
"Intelligence?" the cold voice mocked.
The both broke into smothered laughter.
"Weasley," the deeper voice gasped, trying to take in deep breaths because he was laughing so much. "Weasley in intelligence! God, you crack me up, Malfoy."
Malfoy smirked, "every time I think about it, all I can imagine is carrot head in his wheeling chair, wheeling himself arou-" Malfoy broke off, unable to stop himself from laughing any longer. And soon they were both rolling on the ground with laughter, taking it in turns to 'rip the piss' out of Ron.
Bill and Ginny were pallid, frantic and very worried. Was what Malfoy said true? Ginny had not seen Ron recently, but in their work, it was hardly unusual. Bill tapped his wrist, anxious to return home. Ginny understood the message and held up one finger indicating they had one minute remaining.
"What are you two imbeciles laughing about?" a new voice boomed, "well, Malfoy? Regal?"
"Just about Weasley and his broken legs, Owens," the man named Regal said.
Owens neither laughed nor smiled. "Don't tell me that's all you idiots have been giggling about for the past half an hour." The man sneered.
Malfoy turned stony faced. "No Sir."
"Weasley may be damaged, but he's far from broken."
"But that won't be for long will it, sir?" Regal asked.
"No," Owens sighed, "not for long now."
Behind the tree from which they were hiding a grave faced Ginny tapped her watch, and withdrew a hairpin from her pocket.
Counting down the seconds on her hand, they both touched the hairpin and vanished.
The three Death Eaters, who had been oblivious to their presence, carried on their conversation.
"Anyway," Owens continued, "have you got what I asked for Regal?"
Regal produced a small bag from his pocket. "I got it."
"Good, lets get going. Lucius is bound to notice my absence soon." He walked to a nearby tree and picked up a shoelace lying beside the roots. He motioned for Regal to join him, and in seconds they had vanished in the same manner that Bill and Ginny had, leaving Malfoy alone.
"Great. Bloody great." Malfoy muttered to himself. "They slack off to do crack, and I have to walk about five miles through a dark wood, alone. Oh, that's just bloody fantastic," he added, as the mild rain started to increase its downpour.
Hermione was beginning to feel a little bit apprehensive. At first, she had been certain it was going to be Bill. But then Ginny had appeared, and then three Death /eater had arrived on the scene. Two had left, Ginny and Bill safe. Leaving only a scared Malfoy. And so, sighing in defeat, she trudged after him.
A good half an hour later, Hermione, who had been daydreaming, nearly walked straight into Malfoy. For he had suddenly stopped and turned around.
His grey eyes were narrowed in a hawk like way. Trying to see through the darkness.
Suddenly, Hermione heard what must have made Malfoy stop.
A rustling noise, and a small, low growl. She panicked. Was it a werewolf. Or simply a wolf? Or something else?
The creature padded nearer to Malfoy, revealing it to be a wolf.
Malfoy took an involuntary step back.
He snapped his head around in another direction, another noise startling him.
The noise soon identified itself to be another wolf.
And with a sinking feeling in her stomach she remembered that wolves hunted in packs.
Two more wolves became present, all four now circling and surrounding Malfoy.
Malfoy whipped his wand out, swivelling around, thrusting it at each wolf.
"Stupify!" he yelled at one wolf. A jet of light streaked out of his wand at the nearest wolf.
At that instant the remaining three leapt at Malfoy before he had time to react. Attacking him viciously.
"Ahh!" Malfoy cried, water pricking up in his eyes as one wolf sunk its teeth into him arm, while a second began clawing away at his chest.
Another grabbed hold of his ankle with its teeth and started to pull him along on the floor. But with the first wolf's teeth deep in his arm, it did nothing but stretch and strain his arm further.
The wolf that had been stunned earlier was now getting back on its feet, and with a faint 'pop' transformed into a person.
"Owens," gritted Malfoy.
"Some of us have got together, and we've been discussing a few things," Owens smirked mordantly, "and we came to the conclusion that you 'services' are no longer needed."
Malfoy, writhing on the floor, gave an uneasy look.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A green light pierced Malfoys chest. And he was still.
_____________________
Gasping and heaving Hermione shot up, and found a glass of water being handed to her.
After gulping it down she lay back. To overrun and tired to notice that her surroundings had changed.
She faintly heard a deep, strangely familiar voice ask her what the password to Gryffindor tower was. She managed to mumble 'snuffles', before promptly falling asleep.
______________________
"Hermione. Hermione."
Someone was shaking her awake. She rolled over, and in doing so, fell off the couch. A perplexed expression covered her face. How did she get here? She looked up at the person who had woken her.
"Why were you sleeping down here?" Harry asked.
Hermione looked around. It was either very early or very late in the morning, because the rest of the common room lay empty.
"What time is it?" Hermione asked, unintentionally changing the subject.
"Half-past six. Why were you sleeping on the sofa?"
Hermione thought quickly. "I went to the kitchens last night to get some water. I remember sitting down for a moment.I guess I must have fallen asleep," she lied smoothly. Although her brain was thinking frantically of possibilities of how she could have gotten to the sofa, she wasn't sure she even remembered entering the tower.
"What are you doing down here so early?" She realised suddenly that he was also down here very early, and dressed for that matter.
Harry blushed a little. "Oh, I was just going for a walk or something."
"A walk?"
"Yer," Harry said, "it helps me think."
Hermione yawned, "well, I'm going back to bed for a while then. I'll see you at breakfast." She turned and started up the stairs to her dormitory.
"Try not to sleep for too long," Harry called after her. "I think Ron's beginning to have second-breakfast withdrawal symptoms."
Leaving Hermione to trudge up the stairs, collapse on her bed, and wonder just what had happened last night.
Sordid Slumbers
The sound was back. Still steady and regular, neither soft, nor sharp though, but raspy. Soft. Like a short, repetitive wind. Or even softer maybe.like breath.
She closed her eyes and the second they opened she was immediately confronted by clear image. It was a small, homely cottage. As she stepped inside she could see it was furnished with only a few essential items. She walked into what she presumed was the bedroom, and was immediately faced with a pine, king size bed, with a very old man lying in it.
The old man's long silver beard trailed over the tops of the covers, and reached nearly the end of the bed. He was clad, from what she could see, in a deep purple nightgown, and a matching nightcap sat atop his white hair.
His eyes were closed, and she could see the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed in and out. A few tears pricked up in her eyes, this man, of all people, certainly did not deserve a death akin to her previous premonitions. She walked hesitantly over to the bed.
He looked older, much older, and wrinkles inhabited more of his face and skin. She could detect no immediate danger as of yet, but she had yet to have a peaceful, pain absent dream.
Nothing seemed to be happening at present, so she took this time to study the room.
Aside from the bed, only a bookshelf, wardrobe, and a large portrait clothed the room. It was simple, although nice. This must be Dumbledore's home. Deep inside, she had known that Dumbledore must have had a home somewhere, yet it still felt odd seeing him like this, away from Hogwarts. She was sure Dumbledore could have made his home more extravagant, but she supposed considering the amount of time he spent at Hogwarts, it would seem meaningless to spend copious amounts of money on a home he rarely abided.
It was during this musing that she suddenly noticed how quiet it had become. Not that it had originally been noisy, far from it; in fact, the only noise had been the soft breathing of Dumbledore.
She swung her gaze down to Dumbledore. For a moment, she stopped breathing herself. She walked stiffly over to the bed, and released a shaky breath. The shade of his skin had reached an even more pallid shade of pale, his lips were an icy blue, and the rise and fall of his chest had ceased.
Slowly and steadily she turned and retreated, although unsure of where to go. By the time she had exited the cottage and perched herself on a bench outside, she felt a little more unsteady. Why was she still here? Shouldn't she have woken by now?
Suddenly she heard voices shouting in the distance. It was night, so it was too dark to see anything, but she could hear the sound of footsteps getting closer and closer. As they got nearer, she began to pick up a few things they were saying.
".surprise attack."
". warn Dumbledore before its too late."
".poison."
Poison?
Did they think someone had poisoned Dumbledore, but he died in his.
The glass.
She hadn't really taken it in earlier, but there had been a single glass sat atop the kitchen table. It hadn't crossed her as unusual then, but.maybe.
She hastily hurried back inside the kitchen. She snatched the glass from the table and inhaled its scent. Poison. A mixture of underslang, bloomwood, and ivy if she wasn't mistaken. A particularly manipulative drink, disguised in the colour of a Dreamless Sleep potion, making it easy for the drinker to simply drink from the wrong glass 'accidentally'.
She hastily placed it back on the table just in time. As merely a second later, the front door crashed down, and an older looking Harry Potter barged in, followed by a small team of Aurors. They rushed into the bedroom, and then there was a thick silence.
It was Harry who pushed his way through the people and into the kitchen first. He gave a sad, resentful sigh and slunk into one of the kitchen chairs, letting his head fall into his hands. Abruptly, his head flew back up, and he properly noticed the glass.
Following Hermione's pattern, he picked it up, smelt it, and then put it back, the same thoughts apparently running through his head.
Both Hermione and Harry jumped suddenly as the handle of the front door shook slightly, lowered, and then the front door was pushed open.
In walked the last person either of them could expect to see. Albus Dumbledore.
Hermione screamed. And Harry, obviously not being able to hear Hermione, simply stared. Then snapping back into motion Harry pulled out his wand, aiming it at Dumbledore's head.
"Who are you?" Harry growled.
Dumbledore looked a little shocked, and slightly confused. "What do you mean, Harry?"
"I mean what I said," he snapped. "Who are you?"
"I am afraid I don't understand, Harry. Please lower your wand, and then you can explain." He gestured to Harry's wand which was only a few inches from his face, "this to me."
"Lower my wand? Do you take me for a complete moron? If you don't tell me who you are now, I'll just have to find out later with a favourite potion of mine."
"Harry, I'm sorry, but I really do not understand the meaning of this."
"You killed him. You fucking killed him. And you actually have the nerve, and the guts, to walk in looking like him." Harry gave a slightly hysterical laugh.
Before Dumbledore, or who ever he was, could reply, one of the other men came out into the kitchen.
"Great Merlin!" And he too whipped out his wand. "Who the hell are you?"
"That's exactly what I want to know," Harry said.
"Harry," Dumbledore said calmly, "it's almost eleven o'clock; now, I don't know about you, but I like to be in bed by eleven. I find that less than eight hours sleep can make me incredibly grouchy in the morning. So if you'll excuse me, perhaps we could talk about this tomorrow when we both have a clear head."
"I think my head's clear enough right now; what about you, Jones?" Harry said.
"Feeling pretty level-headed over here too Harry," Jones replied.
Taking in the tension fully now, he caved slightly. "If that's the way you feel, then let me just hang my coat up, and we could have a discussion over some hot chocolate." And Dumbledore pushed past Jones and into his bedroom, where five other Aurors immediately confronted him.
Harry, Jones, and an unnoticed Hermione followed Dumbledore through to the bedroom.
Only, when they got in the bedroom, the scene before them was quite unexpected. Instead of the Aurors crowded round Dumbledore, wands out, everyone was flocking round the bed. Hermione slipped through a small gap to the front, curious as to what the commotion was about.
The first, and most divergent difference was that a bald, smaller, slightly chubby man lay in Dumbledores place.
Harry was pushing his way to the front, demanding to know what was going on.
"It just happened," one woman said.
"He just.changed," another said, somewhat dazed.
"What change- Oh," Harry said, reaching the front of the crowd. "Pettigrew." He hissed.
Five minutes later everyone was sat around the kitchen table clutching mugs of hot chocolate. Hermione's mind was reeling as she stood a few metres from the Aurors, Harry and Dumbledore. From what they were saying, Pettigrew had known about Dumbledore's planned murder. He had drunk a Polyjuice potion, and taken the place of Dumbledore. He had swallowed the poison, and died for Dumbledore.
It sounded, Harry admitted, that Pettigrew had finally repaid the favour he owed Harry for saving his life. Voldemort and his supporters now deemed Dumbledore dead, and they had the advantage of a surprise attack.
Hermione, although generally pleased by this good news, was not entirely content. There was still this nagging feeling that something was wrong. When had she ever had a premonition of someone's death, where he or she had not died? Not that she wasn't grateful for it, but it just wasn't right. Unless.maybe this was just an ordinary dream.
She didn't have premonitions every night, so maybe this was just a normal dream. Yes, just a slightly odd, but normal dream. It was beginning to sound pretty convincing.
She didn't want nor need to listen to what they were now talking about, so, nearly convinced it was just a dream, she wandered back outside into the night.
Once again, she had only sat down on the bench for a few minutes, before she distinguished other sets of footsteps heading in her direction.
Soon, the figure had come close enough for her to achieve a clear image. They were fully clad in black. With some sort of mask on, shielding identity of their face. They crept quietly along the grass, routing round to the side of the house, and positioning themselves just below an open window.
Uneasiness was creeping up on her rapidly, and slipped back inside. She wasn't stupid. The figure outside wasn't sneaking up to deliver a bunch of flowers. It looked like he was out to kill. And she recognized that mask. It was the mask of a Death Eater.
Regrettably, everybody inside was in a loud discussion entertained by Dumbledore, who was causing many uproars of laughter as he described what prank a first year student pulled on Snape.
Hermione was panicking. Dumbledore happened to be seated right in front of the open window. It was apparent that no one had heard the approaching stranger, only she knew of their existence.
Frantically she started shouting, moving objects, anything to try and capture their attention. Unfortunately none of them could see or hear her.
And suddenly a rush of blue light shot through the air, piercing straight into the back of Dumbledore.
Everyone froze. Silently waiting for something truly terrible to happen. But a few moments later, one nothing apparent had occurred, someone finally spoke.
"Does anyone know which curse it was? Harry? Dumbledore?" Jones asked.
" A blue light isn't much to go on Jones, we didn't even hear the curse." Harry sighed. "Do you feel any different?" he added, looking to Dumbledore.
"I'm afraid I cannot say I do." Dumbledore said.
Hermione at the present time was trying to capture their attention again. She had heard the curse.
Sicco Sanguis.
Drain Blood.
She had only rarely come across this curse during her reading, as it was such a torturous way to die, that not many dared use it. You also had to have an immense power to control the use of this curse.
The person cursed would feel no immediate pain, but after thirty minutes or so, a small cut would appear. A small unnoticeable paper cut size slit. But as the person cursed fell asleep, blood would start to seep out. Slowly at first, then gradually increasing. By morning, most blood would have escaped the body. Only enough would be left to allow the person the energy to wake, and discover what had happened to them. An hour later, they would have shrivelled up and died. Very unpleasant.
And if Harry and the Aurors left now, Dumbledore would be dead by sunrise.
But she had no way of contacting them. Anything she did or said, they could not see or hear.
She could pick up objects, but it seemed like anything she did pick up, became invisible to the real world. She had been waving a pen right in front of Harry's face for a good ten minutes before she'd given up hope.
However much she wanted to help, she knew she couldn't.
She had tried, time after time to help people before. Especially when she first began her premonitions. She'd had the naïve idea she could actually prevent the deaths.
.But maybe.maybe this time could be different.she had to help Dumbledore.
She had an idea.
She watched Harry get up and pour himself another cup of hot chocolate, return to the table, and put in on the place mat for a few minutes to cool.
Hoping her plan may work, she then picked up the mug, emptied the contents in the sink, and replaced the mug back to its original place.
Harry, obviously not noticing any of this, reached in the retrieve his mug. Then, without looking, blew gently and took a sip.
In the middle of his sip, he then realised that he didn't actually have any drink to sip.
"Who drank my hot chocolate?" Harry enquired looking around.
"What?" one man asked.
"Who drank my hot chocolate?" Harry repeated. "I just got myself a refill, and now its gone."
"Are you sure you didn't drink it Harry?" the man said, sounding slightly amused.
"I'm sure." Harry's face was growing more and more confused.
"Harry," Dumbledore said, "we have more important matters to worry about. Like the curse."
Harry shook his head slightly, as if trying to shake away his thoughts. "Sorry, it's just a little strange." And got up to once again refill his mug.
And once again, the second Harry put his mug down; Hermione picked it up, and repeated her actions.
"Okay. Whoever's draining my mug can you please stop," Harry said, slightly agitated, "it's not funny anymore."
"Er, Harry, none of us are." Jones answered.
"Well, someone has to be doing it. Unless," he said, turning to Dumbledore, "you have enchanted mugs."
Dumbledore shook his head solemnly, "no item of furniture nor cutlery is enchanted in my home. Here, pass me your mug and I'll refill it this time."
Slightly disgruntled Harry handed him the mug. When it was returned to him he placed it on the placemat and watched it intently.
Certain that her presence would be noticed this time; she seized the opportunity and reclaimed the mug.
"My mug!" Harry exclaimed. "Its disappeared!"
"Where has it gone?" Jones cried.
For some reason, everyone turned to look at Dumbledore. "I am at as much of a loss as you are I am afraid."
"Maybe there's a ghost." One of the Aurors said.
"A ghost?" Harry said, with an edge of disbelief.
"Yer. Everyone gets ghosts at some point. My next door neighbour had one last week."
"But don't ghosts normally live in houses for a long period of time?" Harry queried, remembering the Weasley's ghoul in their attic.
"Not always," The Auror countered, "My neighbour only had the ghost in her house for a week. It had been smashing all her cutlery so obviously it had to go."
"What do you mean it had to go? Why would anyone want a ghost to live in their house?" Harry asked, somewhat aghast.
"Sometimes they can be useful-if they're quiet that is," the Auror insisted. " My brother had a poltergeist living in his basement for a good few years. It helped scare away any intruders, and it was brilliant with his kids, he never needed a babysitter."
Hermione walked over to the sink, emptied it, and started filling it with water.
"It is a ghost!" someone yelled, pointing at the sink. "The tap's running all by itself!"
"Merlin, you're right!" someone said just before falling backwards off his chair.
She restored the mug to its original place. Harry peered into it.
"Well, the ghost isn't very smart." He finally said, a little unsteadily.
"Why do you say that Harry?" Dumbledore said, clearly amused by the whole situation.
"Because they've been tipping away all my hot chocolate-which I wanted, and instead giving me water."
"Dumbledore smiled. "Maybe they're simply concerned about your health."
Harry snorted. "Well, the ghost should be able to see I am perfectly fit, and after my day, deserve a hot chocolate."
"Do you think there a good ghost, or a bad one?" Jones whispered.
Dumbledore gave a small laugh. "I have a feeling they're good."
With a short smile Harry turned to Dumbledore, "do you know something we don't?"
"No, of course not Harry."
Harry didn't know why, but Dumbledore seemed to be enjoying this, or at least finding some amusement from it. Especially considering he's just been cursed with.something. They really needed to get to work on that.
"Do you think the ghost has got anything to do with the curse?" Someone questioned suddenly.
Dumbledore became serious. "That's a good idea, it could well do. Although I am at a bit of a loss as to why someone would want to send me a friendly ghost." He chuckled.
"It would explain its sudden presence," Harry added, joining in the conversation.
"I have a feeling it was with us before the curse." Dumbledore said.
"How?" Harry asked.
"I honestly do not know. But when I entered the kitchen for the first time, I could just sense something. I went for a while when I walked into the bedroom, but then I think it joined us. And it's here with us now." Dumbledore gave a small smile, "that's just what I believe though."
"The incredible," one of the Aurors said, "How you can just.feel all of that."
"I don't think it's a ghost," a woman said, who had so far not spoken.
"If it's not a ghost, what do your propose it is Miss Trelawney?" Dumbledore asked gently.
"Camilla, please," she smiled. "Although superstitious, like my mother, I am not as gullible as her. Not everything in this universe has a simple explanation." Noticing everyone was listening keenly, she carried on. "For instance, the 'ghost' could be a time traveller, lost in this dimension. Or a seer, trapped in a vision," she paused, giving Harry a quick glance. "I say we find a way to contact them"
"How do you suggest we do that?" asked Jones.
"Well," Camilla fidgeted a slightly, feeling a little excited, "for each.thing.they are different ways. If you really do believe this is a ghost, then a calling or a board."
"What do you suggest we do Miss Trelawney?" Dumbledore prodded, "you are of course, the expert."
She blushed. "I don't honestly think we are dealing with a ghost here. I believe it's something else. I suggest we reveal the spirit." Her eyes glinted slightly.
Jones gulped quietly. "How.how do we do that?"
Camilla's eyes glinted again, and she gave a small, seemingly malicious smile. "All I need is some chalk, Lavender scented candles, and your cooperation."
"I believe those items can be provided," said Dumbledore. He flicked his wand and Harry's mug became a piece of chalk, and a few of the place mats became candles.
Camilla smiled a grateful nod at Dumbledore and began arranging everything to her suiting.
"We never did anything like this at Hogwarts." Harry murmured to Jones next to him.
"Would you think it wise to trust children with this much power?" Dumbledore interrupted.
Harry eyed Camilla and shuddered a little. "No"
"Very few people can do this type of magic Harry. I hold the utmost respect for her." Dumbledore added quietly.
"Okay." Camilla said brightly, "Let's begin."
Everyone seated themselves back around the table.
"Everyone needs to join hands with the person next them. Now just listen and wait"
Camilla closed her eyes, as if to help her concentrate. No one else shut their eyes though, too determined to see this hidden spirit.
Reveal all those hidden Invisible to the common eye, Bring them forth, expose them, Reveal them to my eye,
Slowly but surely, a soft wind began to creep through the cottage. The candles flicked out. And Hermione felt herself being drawn to the small circle Camilla had sketched into the floorboards. They colours in the room somehow seemed to be fading out. As if the colour was trying to transport itself to Hermione.
Eager to be seen, Hermione stepped inside the circle.
Suddenly, the colour flooded back into the room. The lights still remained off, and it made hardly any difference, but it was still noticed by everyone.
"What happened?" Someone whispered.
Camilla opened her eyes. "The spirit wants to be seen. The spell only works when they don't."
"So what happens now? Will we not be able to see them?" The same person asked.
"We won't be able to see them, no. But the ability of their sight to us, transports to the ability of sound."
"So.we can hear them?"
"Yes."
Hermione could avidly see a small cut forming on the top of Dumbledore's thumb. It was only small, and in a place where no one would see. And if they did, it would not appear unusual. She had only noticed because she'd been searching for one. Unsure of how long she would be held here, she started to speak.
"I am not a ghost."
Any whispering that may have been occurring seized immediately. And a very thick silence filled air.
"I am what you would call a seer."
"Tell us about yourself" Camilla said softly, as though scared she would startle who ever it was away.
Hermione remained silent. She couldn't really tell them who she was.
Was it getting quieter, or was she just imagining it. It seemed to be getting darker as well.
Maybe.maybe she was leaving. Maybe she wouldn't be here much longer. Dumbledore had already started dying, so perhaps it was time for her to leave.
"Sicco Sanguis," she blurted out suddenly.
"Pardon?" Camilla asked, her face scrunched up in confusion.
"Maybe it doesn't speak English?" Jones suggested.
"But it spoke English just a second ago," someone whispered back.
Dumbledore who had been very quiet through all of those, suddenly seemed to snap to attention, and in doing so, knocked over one of the candles.
The wind ceased and the lights returned. Everything was normal again.
"Sorry everyone." Dumbledore finally said after a small pause.
"Does anyone remember what she said?" Harry asked in a faintly panicky voice.
"Sicco Sanguis." Dumbledore said gravely.
"What's that?" Jones said, a little calmer than Harry.
"Drain blood," Dumbledore admitted, sounding even more solemn. "It's a rare curse. Used mainly by powerful wizards, against other powerful wizards."
"You don't think.it can't be."
"I do Harry. I think that's exactly what that curse was." Dumbledore held his hand up for inspection. "There are two ways this curse can act, depending on how it was performed."
Hermione's eyebrows knotted together. Two ways? She hadn't ever read that.
"The first way," Dumbledore continued, "Is that a small cut forms, like so," he raised his thumb, "soon after the curse is administered, then slowly all the blood the body posses filters through it, you would be dead by sunrise. The second way is a sudden, abrupt loss of blood from the body. It could happen during one minute or one hour. All that's written is that the curse unfolds in a much shorter amount of time."
Everyone sat around the table was staring at Dumbledore with an aghast, horrified look.
"I think it would be best if you all departed now." Dumbledore said solemnly.
"Why?" Harry stood up rapidly, knocking his chair to the floor.
"I would prefer it if know one was around.in case." Dumbledore trailed off, not needing or wishing to finish the sentence.
"No." Harry said, shaking. "I won't let this happen to you.I can't."
"Harry," Dumbledore proceeded in standing also, "please, just do this for me, I-"
Dumbledore was cut of abruptly. His body suddenly became rigid, and a look of surprise was frozen on his face.
".please.leave." Dumbledore managed to grit out.
Everyone fled. Knowing it was time.
Harry, who had not abandoned the cottage along with the others, took one last look into Dumbledore's desperate eyes. He had never seen him look this helpless. For the sake of Dumbledore's pride, he left.
Dumbledore wheezed in a huge gulp of air, as his lung motion decreased rapidly. Every part of him was frozen solid, except for his eyes, which were moving about frantically, unsure of what would occur next.
He unexpectedly fell backwards. As he fell he shattered the back of his skull of the windowsill.
His blood, it seemed, was being split in two. Half, pouring deftly out of the deep gash in the back of his head. And the other half, slowly drying out.
His eyes rolled round as his vision ceased, so that only the whites of his eyes were showing. Wrinkles were swathing his body at a tremendous rate. So much, his face was nearly buried beneath them.
Next, his hearing disappeared. Not that that mattered much. All he could hear was his own feeble attempts to move, but his immobile body refrained him from doing so. It still felt a little odd though, like a mute button had been pressed, and a thick silence filled the air.
He could see blood now, seeping onto the floor. But suddenly he realised it didn't hurt. In fact, nothing hurt at all anymore. But it should have. It hurt a few minutes ago, but now.it didn't. He couldn't feel anything.
Hermione's mouth was clasped over her mouth, in shock, and also in some scanty idea that this might prevent her from vomiting. She too felt like she couldn't breath, from the sight portrayed in front of her very eyes.
Dumbledore's body suddenly became, if it were possible, even more rigid. As if puppet strings were pulling every vessel in his body up. As if by a swift cut of the strings, Dumbledore's body subsequently relaxed.
Blood still leaked from his skull, but something in the atmosphere had changed. And she knew it was over.
_________________________
Snape froze.
His eyes narrowed and he tried to decipher which direction the screaming was originating from.
He followed his ears up four flights of stairs, always heading towards his right.
When he reached a junction in his path he stopped and listened.
The screaming had ceased. But he was almost certain he could hear the sound of faint whimpering to his left.
The corridor, he remembered, led to a dead end. Which meant that whoever was down there didn't want to be found.
With a swish of his cloak he had stalked off down the charms corridor.
His plan to check all the classrooms down the corridor was abandoned when a high, very unnatural scream doused the air. Starting towards to very last classroom he quickened his pace to almost a run.
Still invisible to the naked eye, Hermione did not see Snape enter.
There were tears flooding down her face, and she was sobbing so much and so harshly, she was on the verge of causing herself to vomit.
She was shivering badly, although the air was not cold.
He watched as she hastily drank her glass of water, then lay back for a few moments breathing shakily.
Snape watched Hermione pick herself up, and stumble her way four flights of stairs to the 7th floor, Gryffindor Common Room.
The entire journey one hand stayed tightly gripped to the banister. Or, her fingers tiptoed along the walls. As though she was blind, and her fumbling hands guided the way for her.
The dark castle was only encouraging Hermione to sleep, and Snape could see her speed slowing as the journey progressed.
When she finally began to climb the last set of stairs, he saw her knee's shake a little and begin to buckle, causing Snape to really wonder how long this had been going on for.
"My dear! What ever have you been up to this time of night?" The fat lady exclaimed when she reached the portrait hole. "Young ladies like you should not be wandering out at these hours!"
Hermione, half asleep, gave a halfhearted muffled reply.
"Password please," the fat lady finally said.
There was a silence, in which Snape expected Hermione to utter the password. But as he looked at her with expectance he noticed she had sunk down to the floor, lying curled in a small heap. Breathing heavily and deeply. And for once, looking peaceful.
Without the password Snape was unable to return her to Gryffindor tower. And so, bent down and gently scooped her into his arms. Carrying her easily back down to his chambers.
____________________
It was more the coldness than the darkness which un-eased her this time.
It was always dark. It neither bothered nor frightened her anymore.
But it was rarely ever this cold.
There was a very gentle wind flouncing the air. And although it was not very strong, it was almost numb with iciness.
In fact, the tear that had just fallen down her face bore an ice drop by the time it reached the floor, and shattered into a million ice crystals.
The only reason she could hear the tear shatter, was due the to complete absence of noise or sound.
Her beating heart sounded like deafening drums. Her breath like a coarse wind infusing the air.
Soon, the darkness began to form shapes. Long shapes. Some thin, and some wide, some short and other so tall she could not see the top.
She felt something brush delicately along the side of her face. She shuddered and spun around. Only to be faced with nothing.
Her eyes wandered the surroundings, attempting to work out the identity of these shapes.
Casually, the wind started to pick up, prompting dark shadows to appear above her.
That continuous sound was back. On this occasion.crunchy.
Snapping of some kind was occurring, and a rustling.of leaves?
The black was prominent, but gradually fading, and greys and whites and browns were introducing themselves.
She felt a familiar brush along her right cheek and whipped her head around. It was a leaf. And as she looked back around, she could now see she was in a wood.
She felt something wet against her head, and looked up to discover the black shadows were only rain clouds. Ready to release its rain upon her.
The sense of someone's presence near by alerted her and she wheeled around.
Someone was making their way through the trees. Their feet crunched the leaves and snapped the twigs as they walked. They too had noticed the black clouds, and hoisted their hood up, but seemed by no means in a hurry to avoid the rain.
The trees were slightly lopsided and awry, tilting and leaning off in alternate directions, looking as if they had been trying to reach the rays of sunlight that made their way through the thick leaves at the very tops of the trees. Twisting and turning in attempts that had not succeeded, as all the trees gave the impression of wilting, as if light had been absent for far too long.
Although the thick leaves and branches managed to shield the sunlight, that did nothing to prevent the rain which began to trickle through the leaves. Slipping and sliding its way along the leaves, and tipping off the end to fall to the ground.
The figure traipsed further closer to her, hood still covering the majority of their face, making recognition impossible. They seated themselves underneath a looming willow tree and stared into the empty air before them, as though expecting something.
The air before them shimmered, and before she could blink a redheaded women filled it.
"Ginny. You came." The person had stood up suddenly at the moment of Ginny's arrival.
"Of course I came. Why wouldn't I?" Ginny enveloped the person in a hug. "It has been far too long Bill, I feel like I haven't seen you in years."
"Only a few months Gin. Nothing to fret about. I wasn't sure whether you would be too tied up to make it, what with all the raids." Bill said.
"I would make time for you," she smiled. "Family's more important."
Bill grinned, " I'm more Important than dying families; I'm flattered."
Ginny hit him playfully, "You know what I mean. I needed to make sure you were all right. It's so hard not being allowed to owl anyone anymore."
"Yer, everyone's finding it increasingly hard. People are becoming more frantic about loved ones. I can only imagine how Mum must be feeling about Charlie. I don't know what he's still doing in Romania. Doesn't he know there's a war on?"
"He knows. He's doing his bit over there," Ginny replied gently, sitting down beneath the tree, motioning for Bill to join her.
"I know. But can't he see, can't he imagine that it's killing mum." Bill ran his fingers through his hair. "I hate going to visit her now. All I can see is this troubled look in her eyes, and I can't make it go away. It hurts, Gin. I want to do something to make it better. But all I can do is answer 'No, sorry I haven't heard from Charlie yet' when she asks if I know how he's doing. God, why is he so selfish!" He stood up abruptly, and lobbed a stick he's been holding at a near by tree, and watched as it snapped into pieces.
He looked back to her, eyes filled with sorrow. "I hate it, I hate this."
"We all do." Ginny replied, relaxing a little. "We've still got Dumbledore though, we should be thankful for that."
"Yes," Bill admitted, "and Harry."
Ginny nodded. "I wonder how he's doing. I mean, how he's really doing."
"Probably how anyone else in his situation would."
Ginny did not reply, but instead studied the bark covering the ground.
"You still care for him don't you."
"Of course I do," she said. "I've never stopped." She looked sadly up at him, "I've just become better at hiding it. I know he never has, nor will ever be interested in me." She paused for a minute. "It just.it hurts sometimes. I don't want it too, but it just does."
"Of course it does Gin. It's like that with anyone you care about. Have you seen Mum recently? I don't suppose you have-"
"That's not my fault." She snapped, cutting him off.
"I know, I know. I'm not going to lecture you on that. You have much more important things to do. But God Gin, you just have to see her. She's so.thin. Her bones stick out everywhere. It's horrible. She bakes and bakes, and the cakes just fill up the house because she's too miserable to eat. I just.I just wish I could wave my wand and make it all better." He flopped back down and lent back on the tree, sighing dejectedly, "but I can't."
"Don't be so hard on yourself," Ginny said, resting her head on his shoulder. "Perhaps we could all put our money together and buy her a portkey to see Charlie."
"It's a nice thought. But you and I both know none of us have the money. With no owls now.well, you know how fast portkeys are going. There simply aren't enough people making them, to supply are needs for them. It's a miracle you got one for today."
"Work." Ginny answered simply.
"Still, even if you are an Auror, they don't have enough just to casually hand them out."
"Harry gave it too me. He said he knew it must be a tough time for all of us, and I deserved a break."
"That's very kind of him."
She smiled grimly, "Yer, sweet."
Bill looked Ginny directly in the eye. "How are you really doing?"
Ginny smiled weakly. "Just the same as everyone else. No better, no wor-"
"Shh." Bill interrupted, pressing his finger to his lips, silencing her.
Ginny sat rigid. Eyes blinking about surveying the forest, though she kept sending curious glances at Bill, hoping for him to somehow tell her what he had heard.
Bill moved carefully to join Ginny at the trunk of the tree, and peered round the side.
Suddenly he snapped back round looking stricken.
His pointed at his left forearm, indicating that there were Death Eaters. Then held up two fingers to inform Ginny of how many.
Ginny tapped her watch and held up her hand, all fingers and thumb outstretched. Five minutes until her portkey could transport them back.
A second ago five minutes would not have seemed enough, but now, it seemed like an eternity.
The two Death Eater were drawing closer, and although there were no paths through the woods, the Death Eaters could easily walk right by them. Although they were not clad in bright colours, they would not be hard to miss.
Ginny almost let out a sigh of relief when the Death Eaters stopped and seated themselves beside an old birch tree a reasonable distance away.
"Oh, you should have seen it," a cold, familiar voice drawled, "it was brilliant, I didn't even have to do anything except watch."
"Are you gonna tell me how it happened then?" A deep voice said, "or simply tell me how 'bloody marvellous' it was?"
"All right, all right," the first one said. "So we'd been killing these muggles, well it was more of a massacre really, there were so many! God, muggles really do bring it on themselves. So anyway, we'd been attacking the muggles when the Aurors showed up. Potter wasn't there, but Weasley was."
Bill shot a questioning look at Ginny. She shook her head. Although she'd attended many scenes like this, the voices, or what she had heard so far sounded familiar.
"Obviously," the cold voice continued, "Weasley couldn't see it was me, but I swear he just knew though."
"So what happened?"
"Well, I'd seen a few muggles escape, so deciding there was already enough of us on the scene, I slipped away after them. Weasley, of course, saw me go, and followed after me. I tailed the muggles across the road and lost them in a crowd. It would have been to open to use magic anyway. So I turned around ready to go back when I spotted Weasley crossing the road after me. He was half way across the road, when this bus came from out of nowhere. Ran straight into him!"
Ginny and Bill had both visibly paled. Ron. He was the only Auror in the family beside Ginny.
"Did he die?" the other one asked excitedly.
"Nah. Unfortunately not." The cold voice said.
"Damn. That would've been once less to worry 'bout."
"Well actually we needn't worry about him anymore."
"Why's that?"
"From what I heard he broke both his legs." He grinned maliciously.
"Really? Ha! They can't keep him in the force with two broken legs!" the deep voice laughed. "What'll happen to him?"
"He'll either be fired, or transferred to another division."
"Like what?"
"Intelligence?" the cold voice mocked.
The both broke into smothered laughter.
"Weasley," the deeper voice gasped, trying to take in deep breaths because he was laughing so much. "Weasley in intelligence! God, you crack me up, Malfoy."
Malfoy smirked, "every time I think about it, all I can imagine is carrot head in his wheeling chair, wheeling himself arou-" Malfoy broke off, unable to stop himself from laughing any longer. And soon they were both rolling on the ground with laughter, taking it in turns to 'rip the piss' out of Ron.
Bill and Ginny were pallid, frantic and very worried. Was what Malfoy said true? Ginny had not seen Ron recently, but in their work, it was hardly unusual. Bill tapped his wrist, anxious to return home. Ginny understood the message and held up one finger indicating they had one minute remaining.
"What are you two imbeciles laughing about?" a new voice boomed, "well, Malfoy? Regal?"
"Just about Weasley and his broken legs, Owens," the man named Regal said.
Owens neither laughed nor smiled. "Don't tell me that's all you idiots have been giggling about for the past half an hour." The man sneered.
Malfoy turned stony faced. "No Sir."
"Weasley may be damaged, but he's far from broken."
"But that won't be for long will it, sir?" Regal asked.
"No," Owens sighed, "not for long now."
Behind the tree from which they were hiding a grave faced Ginny tapped her watch, and withdrew a hairpin from her pocket.
Counting down the seconds on her hand, they both touched the hairpin and vanished.
The three Death Eaters, who had been oblivious to their presence, carried on their conversation.
"Anyway," Owens continued, "have you got what I asked for Regal?"
Regal produced a small bag from his pocket. "I got it."
"Good, lets get going. Lucius is bound to notice my absence soon." He walked to a nearby tree and picked up a shoelace lying beside the roots. He motioned for Regal to join him, and in seconds they had vanished in the same manner that Bill and Ginny had, leaving Malfoy alone.
"Great. Bloody great." Malfoy muttered to himself. "They slack off to do crack, and I have to walk about five miles through a dark wood, alone. Oh, that's just bloody fantastic," he added, as the mild rain started to increase its downpour.
Hermione was beginning to feel a little bit apprehensive. At first, she had been certain it was going to be Bill. But then Ginny had appeared, and then three Death /eater had arrived on the scene. Two had left, Ginny and Bill safe. Leaving only a scared Malfoy. And so, sighing in defeat, she trudged after him.
A good half an hour later, Hermione, who had been daydreaming, nearly walked straight into Malfoy. For he had suddenly stopped and turned around.
His grey eyes were narrowed in a hawk like way. Trying to see through the darkness.
Suddenly, Hermione heard what must have made Malfoy stop.
A rustling noise, and a small, low growl. She panicked. Was it a werewolf. Or simply a wolf? Or something else?
The creature padded nearer to Malfoy, revealing it to be a wolf.
Malfoy took an involuntary step back.
He snapped his head around in another direction, another noise startling him.
The noise soon identified itself to be another wolf.
And with a sinking feeling in her stomach she remembered that wolves hunted in packs.
Two more wolves became present, all four now circling and surrounding Malfoy.
Malfoy whipped his wand out, swivelling around, thrusting it at each wolf.
"Stupify!" he yelled at one wolf. A jet of light streaked out of his wand at the nearest wolf.
At that instant the remaining three leapt at Malfoy before he had time to react. Attacking him viciously.
"Ahh!" Malfoy cried, water pricking up in his eyes as one wolf sunk its teeth into him arm, while a second began clawing away at his chest.
Another grabbed hold of his ankle with its teeth and started to pull him along on the floor. But with the first wolf's teeth deep in his arm, it did nothing but stretch and strain his arm further.
The wolf that had been stunned earlier was now getting back on its feet, and with a faint 'pop' transformed into a person.
"Owens," gritted Malfoy.
"Some of us have got together, and we've been discussing a few things," Owens smirked mordantly, "and we came to the conclusion that you 'services' are no longer needed."
Malfoy, writhing on the floor, gave an uneasy look.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A green light pierced Malfoys chest. And he was still.
_____________________
Gasping and heaving Hermione shot up, and found a glass of water being handed to her.
After gulping it down she lay back. To overrun and tired to notice that her surroundings had changed.
She faintly heard a deep, strangely familiar voice ask her what the password to Gryffindor tower was. She managed to mumble 'snuffles', before promptly falling asleep.
______________________
"Hermione. Hermione."
Someone was shaking her awake. She rolled over, and in doing so, fell off the couch. A perplexed expression covered her face. How did she get here? She looked up at the person who had woken her.
"Why were you sleeping down here?" Harry asked.
Hermione looked around. It was either very early or very late in the morning, because the rest of the common room lay empty.
"What time is it?" Hermione asked, unintentionally changing the subject.
"Half-past six. Why were you sleeping on the sofa?"
Hermione thought quickly. "I went to the kitchens last night to get some water. I remember sitting down for a moment.I guess I must have fallen asleep," she lied smoothly. Although her brain was thinking frantically of possibilities of how she could have gotten to the sofa, she wasn't sure she even remembered entering the tower.
"What are you doing down here so early?" She realised suddenly that he was also down here very early, and dressed for that matter.
Harry blushed a little. "Oh, I was just going for a walk or something."
"A walk?"
"Yer," Harry said, "it helps me think."
Hermione yawned, "well, I'm going back to bed for a while then. I'll see you at breakfast." She turned and started up the stairs to her dormitory.
"Try not to sleep for too long," Harry called after her. "I think Ron's beginning to have second-breakfast withdrawal symptoms."
Leaving Hermione to trudge up the stairs, collapse on her bed, and wonder just what had happened last night.