A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed… I love you all!

Please don't get your hopes up about me posting this often again, cause this was just a freak accident. Chapter 6 has been sitting in my computer for about 2 weeks and I was just unable to get it posted. So, technically, it was time for me to write again, I just ended up posting pretty close to Chapter 6…

Um-to warn you… I promise to make everything OK… just wait for it… all will be revealed in time, as Dumbledore says.


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A Murder of One
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Curiosity, Kitten, doesn't mean have to you're on your own
You can look outside you're window; he doesn't have to know…


~Counting Crows






She rode to the fourteenth floor. It was surprisingly simple to get into this building. The elevator dinged. The doors opened and in front of her were five wizards, wands pointed at her face.

The wizard in the center stepped forward. "Well," he said, looking grim, "It seems as if we have a problem."

She smiled at them, particularly at him, and closed her eyes. She felt a stream of thoughts leave her and flow into the wizard who had spoken. The silvery thread, seemingly frail, resembled the thoughts that went into a Pensieve. All five of the wizards saw it flow from her mind into the front wizard's, but all were too stunned to do much more than stare. None of them could remember if she had drawn a wand or not.

The front wizard felt his brain tighten suddenly. It felt as if two claws were clasping his head and sucking out his thoughts. Within a few seconds, he blacked out, falling to the floor. All his companions saw was the thread of thoughts flowing between the girl and Smith, the Head of the Hit Team.

And then Smith fell. There was a flash of blinding light and four voices shouted at once.

And when the smoke cleared, there she stood, still inside the elevator, with an alarmingly strong defensive wall around her. She smiled at them and reached out both of her hands. She closed her eyes. She's never done this before, but she knew that she could. Four strands of the silvery, delicate Pensieve-thoughts came from her temples. And within 30 seconds, she was lowering her defensive shields and sidestepping the bodies of the five Hit-Wizards.

She walked down the hall, calmly. 1408, 1410, ah, here it is. She could feel the aura of power surrounding the room. She stood in front of the closed door for a few moments.

The emblazoned word Inquestion glared back at her. The number 1412 was on the wall next to the door. She pressed her fingers to the number and it grew warm under her touch. She felt her legs begin to tense and laughed at the complete incompetence of the Ministry. She murmured a few unintelligible words at the numbers and they melted. The bronze letters ran in streams down the wall and the feeling in her legs immediately went away. She knew that the Ministry would hide protective spells in places that no one would expect. Except for her.

She opened the door. She tucked fly-away strands of her hair behind her ears and surveyed the room. All conversation had halted and everyone in the room stared at her.

Albus Dumbledore seemed to know what she planned to do and rose swiftly to his feet, wand pointed at her. But the words were already out of her mouth.

"Efomarse Anastasia Obliviate Heciso!" she called, throwing a hand out in front of her, pointing her palm towards the amber-eyed girl at the foot of the table. The amber-eyed girl disappeared with a crack and then, in a smug swirl of smoke, she who had so burst in upon their meeting was gone.

Everyone in the room stood in silence, shocked.

Then, quickly, Dumbledore and the man standing next to him, called Fudge, moved, wands outstretched, towards the seat of the amber-eyed girl, as did four men who had been seated close to her. Three of them were non-descript brown-haired brown-eyed men that all looked alike, but the fourth was shorter, with patchy grey hair and a large chunk missing from his nose. He moved no slower than the rest, despite his peg leg. The six men began to perform various incantations on the chair.

As soon as the amber-eyed girl had disappeared, a woman with short mud-brown hair had fainted and was now being supported by her husband. A taller man with pecan-colored hair had risen very suddenly and stumbled over his children to help the six men trace the spell. A blonde man with sharp eyes and a sharper nose stood and held the elbow of a frail looking blonde woman, while a child that greatly resembled the woman moved to embrace the only other two children present. An older girl clutched the table and the woman who sat beside her collapsed into her chair.

And a younger blonde man, who looked exactly like the blonde child, stood slowly and walked to the door.

"Draco," said the older blonde man suddenly. He shared his sharp eyes with his son; eyes that met now, one pair in a semblance of concern and the other in anger.

"I have to go, Father," said Draco, daring Lucius to argue.

"You can't-," began his father. "She's gone, Draco. The last time, she did not come back for nearly seventeen years."

"Do you know something that would help me, Father? Is there something that you've not told me?" the younger man, Draco, stepped toward his father angrily.

Lucius looked at his child haughtily. "Do not adopt that tone with me, Draco Malfoy," he snapped. "I know no more than you about this, but I, unlike you, son, have the sense not to rush off and attempt something that is completely beyond you."

Draco glared at his father and then the younger blonde girl said from behind her father, "Father, I think that it is beyond you to save Anastasia. Luckily, it is not beyond Draco."

She avoided her father's piercing glare as she joined her brother at the door. "Draco, if you intend to do this, at least allow me to help you."

She looked up at him stoutly and Draco knew that he would be better off with her by his side.

Another small girl, about the same size as Draco's sister, came up to him as well and said, "Please. Please bring back my sister." She looked sadly at her mother. "For Mum."

Draco and Calabria looked at her, Isabella Spencer, and then at Victoria Spencer, her oldest sister, and Alexandra, the youngest. All of them had found and again lost a sister in the last hour.

And they looked at Charles and Rebecca Spencer, the parents of the three remaining Spencer girls and the one just taken from them.

And they looked at the Grangers, the two people who had raised Anastasia as their own.

And they looked at their own parents, who would never mourn them as the Spencers had and would mourn Anastasia.

Draco turned to Calabria and said, "Come on. Let's go."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

~One hour before~


"Come on. Let's go," he said to Hermione. And they went in.

Everyone stood. Hermione saw Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, Professor Dumbledore, her mom and dad-no, the Grangers, and then three men she didn't know, a creepy looking guy with pasty skin and short black hair, and Professor Moody. On the other side of the table, she saw Draco's mother and father, positively glaring at Draco, his sister, and then five people she did not know: a man, two women and two little girls, all of whom looked like she did.

The man who had opened the door for them introduced himself as Pierce Oculin, the man who had sent her the letter.

Draco led her to the foot of the table and sat to her right.

Oculin cleared his throat and looked distinctly uncomfortable. He remained standing and, for the first time in his life, felt unsure of what to do. "Erm-I think a round of introductions is necessary," he said in his short, clipped tones.

He ran through the Malfoys, and then introduced the first of the five people she knew were her family.

"Earl Charles Spencer," Oculin said and the man, who had darker, straight hair and glasses smiled at her. She returned a weak one of her own.

"Countess Rebecca Spencer," said Oculin. The woman who had Hermione's amber eyes and honey colored hair smiled and then rose. Hermione was unsure of what to do until Draco motioned for her to stand as well. The woman, her eyes foggy, came and hugged Hermione tightly. Hermione relaxed instantly in this woman's arms. She felt an odd sort of longing for this family that she had never known. The woman smiled at her bravely as they returned to their seats.

"Lady Victoria Spencer," said Oculin, motioning towards a girl who, like their mother, had the same eyes as she did. It was so strange to think of this girl as her sister and that they shared Rebecca as a mother.

"Lady Isabella Spencer," introduced Oculin. A girl about the size of Calabria Malfoy, regarded Hermione distrustfully. She had short honey-colored curls and small, round, gold-rimmed glasses.

"Lady Alexandra Spencer," Oculin motioned to the smallest child there, who had the green eyes of their father. She also got out of her chair and hugged Hermione. She whispered in her ear, "My mum and dad won't call me Alex, but Victoria does… will you?"

Hermione smiled encouragingly at her… little sister. "Of course," she whispered back.

"I'm glad you came back, Anna," said the little girl softly before returning to her seat.

Hermione kind of jolted. Anna? Why did this little girl think that her name was Anna? And why did that Oculin man keep calling her Anastasia?

Oculin introduced Draco, Fudge, Dumbledore, and her parents to all who may not have known them. Then he said, "This is Brian McDaniel, Nicholas Peyton, and Mark Webster, Aurors. And Mr. Thomas Croaker, who works for the Department of Mysteries; and Mr.-er Professor-erm…"

"Alastor Moody, I'm an Auror," growled Moody.

"And of course," continued Oculin, "Anastasia." He motioned to Hermione.

Hermione's curiosity got the better of her and she asked, "Why do you call me that? My name is Hermione."

Annie Granger smiled broadly.

Rebecca Spencer looked into Hermione's eyes and said, "Anastasia is your birth name, love. Anastasia Colette Spencer. Named for my mother, Colette, and her mother, Annette."

Hermione smiled at her and Annie Granger felt a familiar jealousy course through her.

Oculin cleared his throat and asked everyone if he could present the facts currently possessed by the Ministry. Then he asked that any additional information that could be provided be presented afterwards.

Around the table, heads nodded and Hermione's heart jumped and her butterflies increased.

"Anastasia Colette Spencer, born 8 August 1980 to Charles and Rebecca Spencer, with one older sister, Victoria. She vanished under untraceable circumstances from her crib in her shared bedroom with her sister. The Ministry, due to the rise of You-Know-Who was currently in a state of anarchy, and therefore an investigation was not begun until late January of 1981, after the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. There were no signs of forced entry or magical spells used to enter the household. No wand was used that night. Anastasia was found to be missing at six o clock on the morning of 9 December, 1980, shortly after her four-month birthday. The Ministry worked on this case for one year, and then it was transferred to my department where we have been working on it to this day. Though we searched the entire magical world many times over, we never thought to look anywhere in the Muggle world, where Anastasia turned up sometime close to February of 1981. That was when she arrived at Sotheby's Orphanage and was adopted within days by Paul and Anne Granger. She was raised in London and attended primary school until receiving her Hogwarts acceptance letter. She remained under the alias of 'Hermione Anne Granger' and went through five years of school at Hogwarts as such. Two months ago, we received a letter, unsigned, that we were unable to trace. It said, and I quote:
hermione spencer lost one prophecy undo darkness defeat evil
At such time, we looked into the records of all witches named Hermione that would be the same age as Anastasia Spencer. Hermione Granger was the only name that came up. It was then further ascertained that she was adopted and while cross referencing pictures, we noticed the great resemblance between Anastasia and her mother. So we sent letters to everyone present to inform them of this Inquest."

He took a deep breath, as did almost everyone in the room. "Now will Mr. and Mrs. Spencer and Anastasia please come to the front of the room?"

Hermione fleetingly wondered what this was for, but they did so and then Oculin deferred to Dumbledore.

Professor Albus Dumbledore, blue eyes twinkling kindly, he explained, "I will be performing on the three of you what is called the 'Bloodline Spell.' If you are related by blood directly, such as mother to daughter or father to daughter, then your lifelines will light up in different colors. For example, Mr. Spencer's lifelines will turn red, and Hermione's will become green, when I perform the spell on the two of them."

He instructed Charles Spencer and Hermione to stand facing each other and place their hands palm to palm. He took out his wand and pointed at their outstretched hands.

"Consagine!" he said, swish-and-flicking his wand expertly.

Immediately Charles Spencer felt his palms grow warm where they touched his daughter's. All of the veins in his hands grew a bright red, as his child's slowly turned green. It had worked. They were blood relatives. He felt his heart surge. This was his darling Anna.

"Finite!" called Dumbledore. "Please make a note that Mr. Spencer is a blood relative, specifically, the paternal parent of Miss Granger. Now, Mrs. Spencer, if you please."

Hermione, feeling somewhat excited that they had determined that Mr. Spencer was her father, joined palms with Mrs. Spencer and the ritual was performed again.

Rebecca Spencer's veins turned blue and again, Hermione's turned green. She felt an overwhelming relief that her baby had finally been found.

Hermione hugged… her mother again after Dumbledore broke the spell and then, for the first time in sixteen years, hugged her father. He had a difficult time hiding his tears of happiness; his wife cried openly.

Professor Dumbledore smiled at them and then asked, "If I could please do just one more Bloodline Spell? We need three to complete Ministry guidelines, although there is no doubt in my mind that Miss Granger is your daughter."

He motioned to Victoria Spencer to come and join palms with her sister. She smiled briefly at Hermione and Hermione smiled back.

"Consagine!" Dumbledore called again, and this time, both of the girls lit up bright white. Dumbledore nodded in satisfaction. He ended the spell and said, "Make note that Miss Spencer and Miss Granger are also blood relatives."

The confident, assured voice of Calabria Malfoy then rang out. "Professor? Why did Anastasia turn a different color during the spell with Victoria?"

Lucius Malfoy glared at his child, but Dumbledore explained, "Different bonds create different colors. Blue for mothers, red for fathers, green for daughters, yellow for sons. White for sisters, black for brothers. For example, Miss Malfoy, if I did the Bloodline Spell on you and young Mr. Malfoy," he motioned to Draco, "Your lifelines would turn white and his black."

Calabria nodded, satisfied, and Oculin asked everyone to again sit.

"Now that definite blood relations have been established between the Spencers and Anastasia, I would like to turn to Mr. Peyton, who has been the head Auror on this case. Mr. Peyton?"

"Thank you, Pierce. As we've said, the reasons for this kidnapping are not in any way clear. And unfortunately, we are not any farther along in finding the culprit than we were the day the investigation began. Our main suspect, is obviously You-Know-Who, but we have been unsuccessful in finding a link between the two. The note that we received was our first clue in years and we have been working to decode it for some time now." Peyton sat back down, looking weary.

Moody took over. "We have a slight idea of why someone would want Hermione, but that cryptic letter is all we have to aid us. It says:
hermione spencer lost one prophecy undo darkness defeat evil.
We gather that Hermione was a Spencer, and the end result was as you can see, quite successful. The next words are lost one, which we think is also in reference to the Hermione being a Spencer, the lost Spencer child. Then it speaks of this prophecy. Now, we've looked through the Book of Prophecies, from Delphi, and there is only one that speaks of 'defeating darkness' and, translated, it says:

"Raised a witch, will undo dark
Raised apart, will fall
Second of a strong line
May conquer evil all

Born in year triumphant
Lost to darker lands
May return to walk the light
If dark one by her stands

The greatest witch to ever live
If she can break free
From he who holds her prisoner
In her heart is he

"This prophecy is one of maybe a hundred, most of which have been already played out. It foretold, rather obscurely, of the rise of You-Know-Who, for example. This is one of about five prophecies that have not unfolded."

Croaker, the pasty-skinned tall man with slick black hair, the Unspeakable, then said, "The prophecy clearly states that if raised a witch, the girl from the prophecy would defeat all darkness, but if she was not, than goodness will come to an end. In my opinion, this enough of a link to put the blame squarely on the shoulders of Voldemort." He ignored the flinches of almost everyone seated around the table. "He is evil itself and it would not be beyond him in the slightest to kidnap or even kill Anastasia in order to keep her from growing up a witch and therefore being able to 'undo evil.'"

Fudge piped up, "You mean to tell me, Croaker, that an anonymous letter plus an ancient 'prophecy' equal immediate and final blame? And you do realize that you can blame You-Know-Who all you want but there's nothing anyone can do about it!"

Dumbledore said, "I do not think that we should dismiss the validity of the Delphi Oracle, Cornelius. She has proven herself to be quite useful many a time. However, while I respect it as evidence, I do hope that the entire investigation is not solely based upon this letter which could very easily be misleading."

Peyton looked at Dumbledore questioningly. "How can you say that, Professor? It was that letter that led us to the recovery of Miss Spencer here."

Dumbledore nodded but said, "I would just like to remind you that things may not be exactly what they seem."

Draco, though he had been watching all with his hawk's eye glare, had yet to speak. He pursed his lips at his Headmaster's ambiguous meaning and drawled, "And I suppose the 'dark one' spoken about is Harry Potter?"

Croaker and Peyton looked at him in surprise. Moody did not. "Good eye, boy," he growled. "Perhaps I was wrong about you. I think that that is something we have yet to consider: the other elements of the prophecy. For instance, what do you make of the phrases born in year triumphant, and lost to darker lands?"

Fudge said impatiently, "That is obvious, Moody. Born in year triumphant… was not Miss Granger born the year You-Know-Who was defeated by Harry Potter? Lost to darker lands… well," he looked a little embarrassed. "Who doesn't consider the Muggle world a dark place? A world without magic…" he shuddered.

Dumbledore said quietly, "I think that there is a deeper meaning to these words, Cornelius."

"What do you propose the meaning to be, then, Dumbledore?" snapped Fudge.

"I could not possibly presume to prematurely understand the Oracle, Cornelius," Dumbledore said calmly. "All will be revealed, in time."

Another of the Aurors, McDaniel, then said, "Well, it does say, definitely, that if she was not raised a witch, all goodness will fall. Is it too late? Has she been 'raised apart'?"

Peyton, the head Auror, said, "She has been a witch since age eleven, has she not? I think that she was definitely caught before she was 'raised.'"

Draco was becoming quickly impatient of these idiots. He could not believe that these people were actually Aurors. "But-," he said, "Going back to the part where it says Born in year triumphant… if that truly means the year You-Know-Who was defeated by Potter, then how was You-Know-Who able to kidnap her?"

Hermione frowned at him. This was the same Draco that had been so cold and calculating after assuming that Sirena Brown had been following them. He was brisk and businesslike, thinking of things that had never occurred to most of them. It made Hermione uncomfortable, because this was a side of Draco that she was not familiar with, a side that she had never seen. She had learned a lot about him in the last few weeks, but this was strange territory and she didn't like it. She wanted him to be the same old, comfortable Draco she had known before.

"Excellent point, Draco," said Dumbledore approvingly. "And how would he have known what year he was to have been defeated? I do not think even Lord Voldemort had powers such as that."

Fudge looked uncomfortable. "While I think that the evidence is circumstantial, I do admit that it is most likely that the culprit here is Lord Voldemort, whether or not he was able to foresee his own downfall. He had minions enough to carry out such a plan, even if he himself was unable to."

Draco looked skeptically at him, but before he could say anything, Moody put in, "I think, again, we are ignoring the most important part of this prophecy: the ending. It talks of her becoming the greatest witch of all time if she can break free of whomever has her heart…"

And then slowly but surely, every eye turned to Draco.

And then the door swung open. And there she was, smirking at all of them. She raised her right hand, her palm facing Hermione. Melted bronze dripped from her fingertips. Draco saw Dumbledore lurch to his feet, but the girl had already spoken.

"Efomarse Anastasia Obliviate Heciso!" she called. Hermione disappeared with a loud crack and within seconds, so had the girl.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Again, she was gone. Untraceably gone. It was almost too much for the Spencer family, who returned home silent and desolate. Rebecca Spencer was inconsolable. Gone. Again. Just as they'd had her back, she was gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Aurors and Dumbledore knew that there must have been a memory charm attached to the girl's spell, for they could not remember her words. And they knew it must have been an incredibly powerful memory charm, for non of them could break the charm. Not even Dumbledore. It troubled him greatly, for there had never been a spell that he could not undo, particularly a memory charm.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The Grangers had to be escorted out by several Ministry underlings, for Mrs. Granger was still hysterical. Oculin stayed with Dumbledore and the Aurors to assist in any way he could, while Fudge had to leave, he had another meeting. He like Lucius Malfoy demanded to be kept updated. Lucius and Narcissa left for Malfoy Manor, without their children.

Draco and Calabria returned to the hotel. Draco thanked the stars his baby sister knew more about Muggles than he did, for they would never have gotten back there alive. And he was also grateful that Calabria was the ingenious little thing she was, for she had taped the entire Inquest with a magically spelled Muggle tape-recorder. But because it was spelled to work inside places where no Muggle device ought to work, such as the Ministry Headquarters and Hogwarts, the memory charm that the girl had used in conjunction with the spell that took Hermione, affected the recorder. It had not taped the spell, as the Malfoys had hoped.

But it had taped the prophecy, which Draco was intent on figuring out.

The first verse, he thought, was pretty apparent: If she was raised as a witch, she would be able to defeat all evil, if not, evil would prevail over the wizarding world. Second of a strong line Calabria figured out: it meant the second daughter of a family who was old and prominent. She said that that was how You-Know-Who knew who he was looking for.

But they remained stumped as the born in the year triumphant part. Calabria agreed with him that the person who kidnapped Hermione was not You-Know-Who, for he was nothing but a shadow at the time she was kidnapped. And neither of them could understand how they would know which child to take; for born in the year triumphant would have told them which year, which child, but how could You-Know-Who have known he would be defeated that year? And if he did, wouldn't he have done something to stop it?

But they did agree that 'the dark one' was Harry Potter, and that the third verse had nothing to do with Draco.

"How could I possibly be holding her prisoner?" was his answer. "I don't even know where she is."

With that done, they decided to start in the only place they could: with the girl that took her; with Sirena Brown.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

In the darkness, Hermione could see nothing. But she could hear the door when it opened. She had no idea how long she had been in there, but was she ever glad to hear the door make it's slow, scraping journey across the icy stone floor.

"Hermione?" whispered an all too familiar voice.

"Ron?" hissed Hermione back. "Ron, is that you?"

His round, concerned face appeared as he murmured, "Lumos."

Hermione could then see where she was: behind the iron bars of a dungeon cell.

"Hermione! Am I ever glad to see you!" he said, grinning.

"Ron, how did you find me? And where's Draco?" Hermione demanded, as loudly as she dared.

Ron pursed his lips. "Got no idea where Malfoy is. But-er, I, um-well, we thought something may have been up when you took off for the Inquest with Malfoy, so we weren't really surprised when we got an owl from Malfoy's sister saying that you'd been kidnapped again. And I kind of wasn't liking how funny Sirena was acting around you the last few weeks, and so I followed her when she left Hogwarts this afternoon. She didn't notice me, really, and I was surprised. But she came straight here and then I figured you were probably down in the dungeons… seems that these old manors have always got dungeons that they keep locking people up in… and came down here. And here you are." He looked rather pleased with himself.

"But you-you didn't-you and Harry… you came alone? And how did you track her? She spelled me and then I appeared here… I don't understand!" Hermione wailed, being most unlike herself in her anxiety.

"I came alone, because Harry thought I was bonkers chasing after Sirena… he said it was a dead end, but I knew… I knew something was up with her. And all I know was that yesterday, Sirena disappeared for almost the entire day and then came trudging back from Hogsmeade around suppertime, which was when we got the owl from Malfoy's sister. And so, today, I kept an eye on her and when she went down to Hogsmeade and caught a train to London, I followed her. Then she Disapperated once we got to King's Cross, but I figured she was heading for Claymore, the Brown's estate. And I was right."

"She Disapperated?" Hermione exclaimed.

"Yeh, I didn't know she was that advanced. She's definitely not licensed, that's for sure," said Ron, staring intently at the iron bars.

"So… she must have just spelled me here and then Apperated back to London…" Hermione said, watching him fiddle with the lock.

"Got a hairpin?" he asked, suddenly.

She grinned and pulled one from her curls.

He inserted it into the lock and gave it a twist. "I knew there were some advantages to having Fred and George as relatives," he said wryly.

The lock popped open and the door swung creakily on rusty hinges as he pushed it open. Hermione, tired, hungry and grateful, stumbled into her friend's arms. They hugged tightly.

"Thank you for coming for me," she breathed onto his neck.

Even though he was happy to see his best friend again, Ron had never liked open displays of affection. Especially from Hermione, whom he loved dearly. Ron, Harry, and Hermione were bound together by ties of deep, true friendship and had stood by each other through perils and heartache and trouble aplenty. But it was always Ron and Hermione who fretted and worried together over Harry; they had stuck together throughout the Final Task of the Triwizard Tournament, when neither could do anything more for their best friend. Hermione and Ron had the special relationship of being the other halves of the great Harry Potter.

"Ok, ok," he said, embarrassed. "Let's get out of here, yeah?"

"Let's!" she agreed heartily. Two days and a night in that cell was more than enough for her, and she knew that Draco and her parents, both sets, would be worried to death about her.

Guided by the light of Ron's wand, they slowly made their way through the old door. They went up a narrow, dark staircase and emerged in the basement, fully stocked with shelves and shelves of gardening tools.

"Apparently, Mrs. Brown was a huge gardener," Ron explained quietly. "I heard Lav say once that when she died, shortly after Sirena was born, Mr. Brown locked all of her things in the basement."

He led her up the stairs to a warmly lit hallway with wood paneling. They crept along silently, and ended up in a den of sorts, with a large, roaring fire in the hearth opposite them. The green velvet curtains were thrown away from floor-to-ceiling windows. Arm chairs and couches, all decorated in green and gold, matched the gold-plated tables and green wall papering. Pictures of Sirena and Lavendar adorned the mantle.

Ron frowned. "This wasn't where this passage came from, Hermione. That hallway led to the kitchens and then out the back door…"

"Is that how you got in?" Hermione grabbed his arm.

"Yeah. I jumped the hedge, which was no mean feat, I'll tell you, and then crept in the back door and down the hall to the basement," he said and shrugged.

"And you knew where the dungeons were? You just knew?" Hermione hissed shrilly, getting more and more tense.

"The dungeons under the Burrow led from the basement," he said, looking at her strangely. "I just thought I'd try there first. All these old houses are the same…" He looked around, trying to find another similarity between this palace and his humble home.

"Did it even occur to you that maybe it was all a little too easy? That maybe there should have been spells protecting the manor? That it was possibly Unplottable, like the Malfoy's Manor?" said Hermione, taking deep breaths now. Being kidnapped again, while she was old enough to realize what was going on, was terrifying and she wanted OUT. She wanted out NOW.

Ron looked at her and then began to eye the room suspiciously.

"Welcome." A deep voice from behind them made them both jump.

They turned to see a man with light brown curly hair, of medium build come towards them.

Ron glared at him and stepped in front of Hermione protectively, wand outstretched. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Who am I?" asked the man lightly. "This is my home, young man. It is I who should be asking you that question, is it not?"

Ron ignore the question. "What do you want with Hermione?" He fingered the wand in his hand.

The man laughed. "I don't particularly want anything with her, young man. It is my Master and my darling daughter who are interested in what this young lady has to offer. Please sit."

Without warning, he whipped out his wand, and shouted, "Accio wand!" Ron's wand flew to his hands and disappeared up the sleeves of his robes. He directed them to seats with a graceful flick of his wrists. It was no spell, just a gentle reminder than he was a fully educated grown wizard with experience and, as he made a tea tray appear from nowhere, talent.

"Tea?" he offered pleasantly.

Neither Ron nor Hermione took anything, but sat together on a pale green couch. Hermione felt for Ron's hand for reassurance and he squeezed her fingertips. She took a deep breath and with that, a short, balding man strode in, followed by a young girl of about fifteen.

"Ah, Peter. Sirena. Please join us," said the man cordially.

Sirena, dressed in black corduroy jeans and a black cashmere sweater lounged gracefully into a gold armchair opposite the room from Hermione and Ron. Hermione glowered at her, but she seemed not to notice. Her eyes, a deep blue, were fixed on the man, Peter; Peter Pettigrew, Wormtail, the right-hand man of Voldemort himself.

The man, who must have been Mr. Brown, sank into a deep green armchair, while Wormtail plopped onto a soft golden couch close to Sirena, shoveling biscuits into his mouth. She sneered at him, but he did not see her.

The man said suddenly, "Well, we're all here, are we not?"

He looked at Sirena and she nodded and closed her eyes. She inhaled deeply and when she opened her eyes again, they were a burning, evil red. Ron took in breath sharply and Hermione had to clutch his hand to keep from screaming.

Sirena turned her evil eyes to her father and said, "Our Lord is with us, Father." It was apparent to all the Lord Voldemort was in their presence through the body of Sirena Brown.

Marcus Brown rose and bowed to Sirena. Wormtail rushed to do the same. Then they sat, looking nervous.

Sirena turned to look at Hermione and she felt her insides freeze. This was what total, complete immobilizing fear felt like.

Sirena rasped, "My Lord wishes to know all about you, Anastasia Spencer."

Hermione was too scared to answer.

Ron flicked his eyes towards his best friend, saw that she was in no condition to answer and said, loudly, "What do you want, Sirena?"

Sirena narrowed her eyes slightly. "Be silent, Ronald Weasley. We have no need of you… yet." The threat was subtle, but menacing.

Sirena repeated her question to the terror-frozen Hermione. "Tell us about you, Anastasia. When did you begin to demonstrate? How old were you when you no longer needed a wand to channel your magic?"

Ron nudged Hermione gently and looked at her with pleading in his eyes. She took in a rattling breath and said, "I don't understand. What do you mean, demonstrate? And I've always needed a wand."

Sirena frowned at her and her eyes flicked to a spot on the wall for a moment. The she refocused her eyes on Hermione and said, "My Lord is displeased by your answers, Anastasia. He will get his answers from you one way or another. If you choose to not to cooperate, not only will I Drain you, Anastasia, to get the answers we need, I will torture you to your death." Sirena's now-red eyes burned into Hermione frightened amber ones.

She had never been so out-and-out traumatized in her life. "I don't understand," she pleaded, beginning to cry, "I don't know what you want of me." She turned her head beseechingly towards Mr. Brown.

His face was impassive as stone. "I think you may want to explain what a Draining does to someone, Sirena-Angel," he said smoothly. His eyes danced in a way that made both Hermione and Ron wonder if he'd lost his mind.

Wormtail put in, "Yes, Milady, I do think that we should explain it to her… perhaps then she will see the advantages of telling the truth…" He licked his lips and leaned forward on the couch hungrily.

Hermione's petrified eyes turned to Ron, who clutched her hand as tightly as he could.

Sirena looked at Hermione for a long moment and then said, "When I Drain a person, Anastasia, I enter their minds and sap all of the knowledge that they have accumulated in their lifetime. There are slower, less painful processes by which this can be done, but that takes weeks. In a Draining, I take all of your life-knowledge in a few seconds. A weak person will die as I enter their minds. Most people die during a Draining, but the stronger ones have survived all the way to my withdrawal. Only one person has ever survived a Draining, and they died thirty seconds after I withdrew. Once you have been Drained, I will possess any knowledge you have now, any feelings you have I will know about, anything you have experienced will become a part of my memory. Now, Anastasia, you being The Chosen One, are not expected to die. You are the strongest witch ever to live. However, my Lord and I shall be severely displeased if I am forced to Drain you. Once I have Drained you, there will be no use for you anymore… and I will have to dispose of you as my Master wishes. But if you tell us all you know about your capabilities, Anastasia, there will be no reason to Drain you…" Her eyes bored in Hermione's.

Hermione was now so thoroughly frightened she could not speak.

After a long pause, Sirena nodded and said, "So be it, Anastasia Spencer. You shall be Drained… pray that you do not survive, for you will die a far more painful death at my hands than you would through a Draining."

And she stood. And reached out her hand so quickly, it was almost impossible to see. A thin, silvery strand flew from her temple across the room.

Ron lunged to cover Hermione, to protect his dearest friend, but he feared he was too late to save her.

The sound of shattering glass rang about the room as Draco Malfoy came flying in through the window.

He saw Sirena Brown, a wisp of silvery thread just flying back into her temple. He saw her father standing, looking shocked. He saw a short, balding, rat-faced man standing beside Sirena, looking gleeful.

And he saw two bodies on the couch that they were staring at.

One was alive.

The other was not.


All your life is such a shame…
You don't want to waste your life…





A/N:


Please don't hate me! I promise that it'll be OK!!! Lots of plot development in this chapter, ya'll have waited long enough for it! More to come ASAP!

Thanks to D and sakura for lifting my spirits.