Chapter 5
"The kitchen elf must have helped them escape," a voice said.
"He has clothes on… Where did he get them?"
"I don't know, but if our superiors find out about this, it's our throats that'll be cut."
Two guards stood before three sleeping bodies and one twitching elf. Dobby's legs and arms moved in his sleep as if he were chasing something. One of the guards cupped its hands around Dobby's mouth, and the other tried to pick him up by the legs.
"Feisty one, isn't he, Demora?" the first guard said. "Better take off that rag before someone else sees him."
"Right. I'll take the elf back to the kitchen cell. You better make sure those prisoners are still asleep. If anyone sees them but us—"
"I know; they'll kill us. And please, be quiet. Arianna should be on guard any minute now, and we don't want her seeing this."
Dobby, still sleeping, was carried off and slowly undressed. Back on the shoreline, Harry awoke with singeing pain in his forehead. He screamed, awaking both Ron and Hermione.
Harry clutched his scar, but the pain didn't die away like it had a few days ago. He didn't remember having any bad dreams this time. Nevertheless, his scan hurt so badly that tears started to streak down his sand covered cheek.
"Harry!" Hermione shouted as she watched his body curl up.
"Make it stop," he moaned.
Harry rocked back and forth, one hand on his scar and other wrapped around his tucked in knees. It was horrible. His mind felt as if it were swelling beneath his scar and pressing up against it.
Now Hermione screamed. A blow to the head knocked Harry unconscious. The dealer of this blow stood next to the group with a long, staff-like wand in her hand. It was the robed guard. Harry fell immediately to the sandy shore, his head making a loud thump as it hit it.
"You, shut your trap," the guard said staring at Hermione.
She gulped and turned to Ron whose skin had turned much whiter than it normally was. The guard raised her staff again and threatened to strike Hermione when Ron leapt forward with his arms. The right forearm bone cracked.
"Fine, have it your way," said the guard, and she held up her staff.
The sun's rays fell down upon the tip of the staff where a crystal rock was attached with rope. The rays glistened through the rock, creating a dazzling beam of light directed right at Ron and Hermione. As they closed their eyes, the woman shouted,
"Mobilicorpus!"
Suddenly, Hermione, Ron and even Harry were lifted off the sands and levitated into the air. Before they could do anything about it, the woman pointed her staff again, but didn't have to say anything.
Chains formed around their wrists, ankles and a thick bracelet around their necks. Once again, the guard pointed her staff, and most horribly, silver pins appeared, jousting through their lips. There were six metal rods, about two inches tall, which shut their lips together. A small drip of blood trickled from the side of Ron's sealed mouth.
"I don't know how you three escaped from your cells, but mark my word, the next time you pull a stunt like this, I will kill you myself," the guard said in a very real and very wicked voice.
The Devil's Triangle was shaped like its name and divided into three separate sections. The northern point of the island pointed direct north. Muggles could only detect a magnetic increase there and constantly tried to study the area. But they would never find anything.
More than a dozen enchantments and spells protected this prison. No wizard could break them all without being caught. The northern section held the most dangerous criminals of the Pacific; they were locked away for eternity. A wizard could not die there. Immortality was their punishment, and they would relive the same days over and over.
The eastern and western sections held less harmful prisoners, but still criminals nonetheless. They were the laborers. They did the jobs that no wizard or witch would ever want to do. And if they resisted, it did not matter. Another prisoner could take their place and they would be sent to the Docks of the Moor.
These docks sat on the eastern shoreline, starting from the middle and ending toward the northern most tower. There, wizards who refused to obey their cell masters would be hung from a suspending cord. Hundreds of criminals at a time swung there. Most terribly, whenever they felt the most pain, they would see their loved ones for a moment before them. This enchantment was one of the most brutal on the island. The more you were in agony, the more you got to see your loved one's illusion in front of you.
Lying in a cell overlooking the docks on the eastern side of the island were three very young, chained prisoners. They were the only innocent wizards and witch that had ever washed ashore the Devil's Triangle, with one exception several centuries ago… Even though this wizard was 'innocent' when he arrived at the labor camp, he had soon fallen guilty.
Their pins had dissolved. Once Hermione, Ron and Harry were thrown into their bleak, cramped cell, their mouths reopened; no physical scar was left. Harry was still unconscious on the ground and had a nasty black and blue mark on his forehead.
The cell was next to several hundred similar ones, all as big as a very quaint bedroom. Three elevated stones were the beds, but there were no pillows or blankets. Dirt covered the cold, slate floor. Thousands of bricks lined the room except for one door with a small, barred rectangle for food.
"Ron," Hermione said faintly. "Ron?"
"I'm okay," he responded. "Just a little…"
"Scared?" she said. "So am I."
No outside light entered the room. All they had was one pewter candle that was too high up for them to light or burn out themselves. That meant that somebody had to come in the cell at one point.
The three of them, tired and terrified, lay still in the room for at least four hours. There was nothing really to say. The darkness and silence spoke itself.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Huh?"
Hermione lifted her head from the ground. She had fallen asleep next to Ron whose eyes were still closed. Again, there was a tapping, and Hermione managed to crawl with her elbows and knees toward the door.
A long, pale nose pointed through the rectangular opening. Hermione fell back and gasped. Suddenly, two large, beady eyes could be seen. They darted back and forth and nearly popped out of their sockets.
Just as the face disappeared, there was a small spark, and a figure stood next to Hermione's shaking body. It had a hunch and was completely naked. Twenty bumps poked out from its back for its skin was too thin to cover its spine. The creature also had long, narrow feet and hands.
"Dobby?" Hermione said. She couldn't really see the house elf clearly.
"Who is Dobby?" it asked.
"Nevermind. Wait," she paused and squinted her eyes. "You are a house elf… What are you doing here?"
"Does prisoner want food or not?"
Hermione nodded her head, and the elf snapped its fingers. Three bowls landed on the ground, spilling the watery liquid inside. Just as the elf was going to snap its fingers again, probably to disappear, Hermione grabbed its ankle.
"Are there more of you? Did they bring Dobby to you?" she asked, still pulling on its leg.
But the elf just snapped its fingers quickly and was gone.
Without any answers, Hermione crawled over to the bowls and cupped one in her hands. She gulped it down quickly, and then she spat a portion of it out onto the dirt.
"Vile," she hissed. "They're trying to kill us."
Ron moaned horribly and slowly opened his eyes. "Then it wasn't a dream," he muttered.
"No," said Hermione. "If you're hungry enough, there's some sort of soup here. A house elf just delivered it."
Very slowly, Ron got up onto his feet and walked over to the bowls. He tried to bend over, his muscles throbbing with aches. Before he placed the bowl to his lips, he looked over to Harry. "Has he gotten up yet?"
"I don't think so," said Hermione.
Then, Ron took a sip of the liquid. He didn't spit it out; actually, he drank the whole bowl down with only three loud gulps. After wiping his lips with his damp clothed arm, he turned to Hermione and sighed.
"Where are we?"
"If I knew that, I'd be working on a way out."
"You're the smart one. You have to have read about a place like this."
Hermione shook her head. "This is obviously some sort of prison. I don't think my parents or the other Muggles on the ship could see this place… That means it's heavily protected by enchantments."
"Meaning what?"
"This isn't just a small jail, Ron. Really bad wizards must come here. Why else would they shield it?"
"The island form of Azkaban?"
"Precisely," Hermione said. "But I haven't seen any Dementors thank goodness."
Ron looked over at Harry. "Maybe there are. Do you s'pose that's why he's like that?"
"I don't know. But if he doesn't get medical help soon…"
Harry lay completely still on the cell floor. His scar no longer singed in pain, but merely throbbed due to the blow. His eyes darted back and forth under his lids rapidly…
"You're making a big mistake!"
"Oh no, my friend, you're wrong there," a masked man said in a very deep and hoarse voice. "You've kept me here for nearly 10 years for no crime whatsoever. You think you can lock up anybody you want? You made a very big mistake capturing me. I've discovered your little secret. All I needed was your blood to let me escape. And now I have it."
"I don't know what you're talking about," the Asian man said back.
"I can taste your lies, Mister Chang."
"What? No! You've got the wrong man. Please, believe me! I am not Mister—"
His throat was slit. The masked man held a curved dagger at the Asian man's neck and sliced through it quickly. A pool of blood quickly poured out of the rip, oozing down his throat and onto the office floor.
Immediately, the masked man took out a cylinder from his robe and collected some of the blood. Just as he corked it, another figure entered the room.
"Guards!" the stranger screamed.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you. I'll be gone within a second, and you will be to blame for the Commodore Chang's death."
The stranger arched his eyebrows. "Chang isn't dead."
The masked man smiled. "Are you blind, fool? Look at him." He pointed down to the bloody man's body.
"You've killed Mister Lee! You've killed the Head Minister!" the man yelled. "You've killed him!" But now the stranger smiled and bowed his head. "Thank you, sir. You did what I could never do."
The masked man stumbled back, confused and baffled. Had he really killed the wrong man? He looked over at the nameplate on the desk, shining the name Chang back at him.
"Is this not Chang's office? It is; the maps do no lie. If he is not… Then you must be…"
The masked man approached Mister Chang who now hovered near the dead body of Mister Lee. He lunged forward with the same bloody dagger, but Mister Chang resisted. He punched the masked man square in the nose.
Just as Chang hit the man again, a hoard of guards entered. Before Chang could tell them to arrest the masked man, he had disappeared.
"Sir, are you all right?" asked a guard.
"I'm fine. Unfortunately for Mister Lee, he was not as lucky. Discard his body."
The guards hesitated, but eventually followed their orders. As they carried the body out, one of the guards stopped and grabbed Chang's arm.
"You'll have to be sworn in," he said, "before word gets out about Head Minister Lee."
"Yes, I understand. And Make sure no one finds Lee's body," barked Chang. "Now go!"
Chang grinned widely as the group left. It was perfect timing, he thought. With Lee out of the way, he would be in charge of the Ministry of Magic. Whoever the masked man was, Chang owed him a debt of gratitude.
But who was that masked man? He claimed to be innocent of his crime, but that was impossible. No innocent wizard was ever sent to the Devil's Triangle. How much did he know? Obviously, very much, thought Chang. The masked man knew about the only way to escape the island and he almost succeeded. Almost. He would be locked away for Lee's murder; Chang would make sure of it.
Everything started to become white and hazy… Harry Potter awoke with a pair of sweet lips kissing his forehead. It was Hermione Granger.