Chapter 6: The Diviner
Ron gasped aloud when Draco's father came out from the shadows and into the little light provided by the glimmering of the stars above.
Lucius Malfoy first separately eyed the three people in the greenhouse then took notice of the unsecured mouthpiece that had once been on Ron's mouth. He took giant strides over to it, bent down gracefully and came back up with the mouthpiece in his hands.
Draco's stormy eyes followed his father's every move, but he dared not speak.
Lucius now put his hands behind his back, the mouthpiece behind him now as well, and turned to the Draco-who-was-Ron. "Mr. Weasley, I presume?"
Ron couldn't say anything and was only able to manage a feeble nod of his head.
Lucius turned to Ginny now, still on the floor. "Ah yes, nice to see you again, Ms. Weasley. One would think that it was you who was not in her own body. Such fine curves and slopes, such a delicate frame, so delectable." Lucius looked up at the Ron-who-was-Draco then said, "Yes, very fine indeed. You're not a little girl anymore, are you?" Ginny shivered as Lucius ran his icy fingers over her right shoulder, then they migrated to her neck and made a swooping motion upwards as he stood up straight and looked at his son— the Draco-who-was-Ron.
For a moment, he lost his cool, frozen over, composure and said, "Bah, this is just disgusting!" Purple sparks escaped Lucius' fingertips and with a hiss of his tongue and a flick of his left hand, both Ron and Draco looked up, surprised to apparently be back in their own bodies.
"That's it?" Ron suddenly said. Though he was grateful to be back in his own body, he felt it strange that it all happened so quickly; plus, his fingernails had been manicured to some extent and that just felt weird. He glanced at Draco and he hadn't even changed the blank expression on his face. Ron knew Draco's ripped pant leg was probably driving him mad, but as if he cared.
Lucius viciously turned his attention to Ron, surprised he would even speak in his presence without being addressed first. Ron realized this as well and immediately took to looking at his shoes.
Lucius sniffed in some air through his nostrils, attached in a jutting manner to the bottom of his nose, and yet again turned his head to see his son, Draco.
Draco had a blank, yet smug look on his face. Though his physical attributes had been Ron's just minutes ago, just looking at him now, one was able to realize a totally different aura about him. His gray eyes were sharp slits on his head now, glinting with glee, but perhaps speckled with a bit of fear and intimidation provided by the company of his own father. His mouth, usually a slanted line carefully sketched onto his face, was now as relaxed as a person's mouth might be whilst sleeping. Draco's hands, normally stuffed in his trouser pockets were now civilly knotted together behind his back. His legs were long poles that protruded from the ground and it seemed that Draco's expensive shoes were the roots holding him down to the greenhouse's dirt floor. Why so rigid? Malfoy's don't slouch; Rule 68 in the Malfoy family "Book" stated so, and every Malfoy knew the rules by heart. Any full-blooded Magic family had a book of rules at one time. Some chose to ignore its old ways, 'some' being families such as the Weasleys in this case, and some insisted that tradition was more important than anything and remained slaves to the family Books. Furthermore, even if a Malfoy did slouch, they didn't dare slouch in front of Lucius Malfoy.
"I see you have brought home a prize for yourself as well?" Lucius asked his son, referring to Ginny as the prize.
Realizing she was the prize and understanding to some extent what kind of 'prize' she was, Ginny's freckles quickly blended into her tomato-red face. Her eyes were wide open, but she ducked her head so no one could see her look of disgusted shock.
Draco liked presents and prizes, but Ginny Weasley was certainly not prize material. Or perhaps he didn't want her to be prize material? Whatever the reason, he suddenly coughed up an inaudible answer.
"Speak up!" Lucius barked at his son.
"She's not a prize, Father," Draco said, not sure what to expect at this remark. He looked up to see his Father's left eye twitching; a trait he'd inherited from him. Lucius looked like he was about to say something when the greenhouse door flung open once more to reveal an out-of-breath Tom Riddle, his composure uncharacteristically disheveled, and his eyes filled with anger.
"Don't move," Riddle advised, addressing Draco's father. Tom now carefully went behind Lucius and grabbed the mouthpiece he had been holding.
"Ha!" Riddle suddenly shouted. His hands were now on either side of his head, wide open, and the mouthpiece was now flying across the room and had made contact with Draco's head before he could do anything.
"Riddle, what purpose does this serve?" Lucius demanded, trying to hide his rage even though he had a vague and unwanted idea of what might have been going on.
"As you ordered, sir," Tom said as Lucius raised an eyebrow in question. "Restraining the blooded soul."
"Him?" Lucius said, taken aback.
"Aye," Riddle said, the mirth in his tone clearly apparent. "There was a small mistake, as you know, but I suppose not anymore since we have found the correct blooded soul."
Disgusted, Lucius refused to look at his son now. The mouthpiece covered the majority of the bottom half of Draco's face and only his eyes were visible. His calm composure abandoned, he had a frantic look embedded into his eyes.
Lucius sighed. "Do we have any vacancies?"
"Cells?" Riddle asked. Seeing Lucius didn't oppose, he said, "Yes, I believe we do. Only two, though. Perhaps the blooded soul will get his own—"
"No," Lucius interjected, a smile curling onto his evil face. "The girl and our blooded soul shall share. Do as you please with the other."
Ron's stomach lurched when he heard Ginny would be going somewhere with Draco, but his internal organs performed a river dance when he discovered he was the other. What were they going to do with him?
"Yes, sir," Riddle said, obviously pleased at gaining a new toy. Tom snapped his fingers and through the greenhouse doors came five, frail, black-hooded figures who looked like dementors— two carrying axes, one with a sword attached to his back, and the remaining two empty-handed.
It looked as though only one was going to take Ron away, but he began to struggle. The empty-handed figure held Ron's right arm at the moment, ready to lead him out of the room. Forgetting where he was and who was there with him, he kicked the shin of the hooded figure that approached him, but he didn't budge at all. Surprised, Ron kicked and punched every way he could and though his struggles proved to be fruitless, he began fighting even harder when he saw another hooded figure approaching him.
"Ron!" He could hear his sister crying out. "No! Ron!" He heard her scream.
"Don't let them take me!" Ron yelled helplessly through gritted teeth.
When the second hooded figure, this one also empty-handed, had reached him, it grabbed Ron's left arm. "Let me go!" Ron demanded. Though his struggling was growing weaker, he refused to be destroyed by these evil minions.
Suddenly, the figure holding onto Ron's left arm raised his own right hand. The black cloak he wore fell away to reveal what was supposed to be a hand. It had six fingers, each housing five-inch-long nails. Seeing this, Ron gasped, which turned into a cough, and led to a coughing fit. The hooded figure's fingers began approaching Ron's head and though he tried with all his might to back away, these brittle creatures weren't going to let him go. When the hand was an inch above Ron's face, a green colored gas was expelled from the hooded figure's fingertips and Ron heard one last cry from his younger sister before his knees buckled, his body went limp, and everything once again turned black.
* * *
Ginny reeled back into reality. She blinked her eyes once or twice and when she tried to move her arms, she discovered she was sitting on the floor, her arms shackled to two chains protruding from the ground. Her neck ached since she had been sitting up whilst unconscious. She surveyed the area around her and concluded she was in a prison cell, lit by an enchanted torch outside the bars to her right that held her in the room. The cell was twenty feet by twenty feet and on the opposite side of the prison cell, directly in front of her, she saw Draco Malfoy, knees curled into his chest with his head resting on his hands which were neatly laid on top of his knees.
"Draco, what—" Ginny instinctively tried to get up, but her arms wouldn't allow her to move more than an inch or two from where she sat. The shackles pulled Ginny back onto her bum. "Can you move?" She decided to ask instead.
To answer her, Draco stood straight up. Whilst she sat on the floor, his lanky body looked even taller to her. Except for the tear on his pant leg, he looked fine. "Were you actually going to turn us in back there?" Ginny suddenly exploded hysterically.
"I never said anything to Father about turning you two in," Draco said coldly, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets.
"Then what was all that fake bowing for?" Ginny asked.
Draco stiffly eyed Ginny and looked away, obviously refusing to answer.
Ginny let out an exasperated sigh and crossed her legs. "Well," she said after a long time. "Aren't you going to help me out of these things?" Ginny asked, raising her hands up.
She hadn't expected him to move, but it looked as though Draco was coming to help her; however, he stopped in the middle of the room and leaned into the air. Strangely, he didn't fall over; there was an invisible force field like a wall between the two of them.
"Oh," Ginny said softly.
Seconds later, however, a cry of surprise and an uncharacteristic groan was heard from Draco. He had fallen through the barrier!
"Draco?!" Ginny said alarmed.
Heaving himself upright and failing to hide the look of astonishment from his pale face, he put his hands on his hips. "What?"
* * *
It was Ron's turn to wake up now. He too was in a prison cell, but his didn't have bars. There were no windows in his cell and the room was as long and wide as he was. There was a door, but there was no knob; it could only be opened from the other side. Light was emitted from an unknown source in the room, and though the lighting was dim, it was enough to illuminate the stone walls surrounding him.
Ron had been lying at the back of the cell. His right elbow ached and he assumed he must have been thrown into the cell and hit the wall with his elbow. He moved the joint around and concluded it was just bruised. Slowly, he sat up, every limb of his body hurting as he moved. As he stood up, gingerly testing his legs out, he felt something on his neck. It was a rope. As if he was to be led to the gallows, a noose lay uncomfortably around his neck. The rope was connected to the far right corner of the cell and he found out soon from a nasty tug that the rope wasn't even long enough to reach the door.
Ron sat on his bum now. He'd landed like so after he'd tried to walk to the door, carelessly not paying attention to the length of the rope connected to the noose around his neck. He had his arms crossed over his chest and heaved a great sigh. What the hell was so great about him that Draco's father was after him? Ron threaded through the reasons why Mr. Malfoy might want or need him, but couldn't think of anything. It also bothered him that he felt like a dog at the moment. Finally, he sighed again and whispered to himself, "At least I'll probably end up missing the final exams."
It must've been around nighttime because Ron yawned. Even though he'd just been unconscious, he was tired nonetheless. He blinked and when his eyes opened, Tom Riddle stared him straight in the face.
"Hallo, Mr. Weasley," he said in his spooky voice. "Up, are we? Amazing, once again!"
Ron yelped at the site of Tom Riddle, now dressed nicely and not sweaty as he had been when he'd last seen him in the greenhouse. Now Ron scowled and backed his face away from Riddle's; they were so close he could smell the dead stench off Tom's shirt!
"Yes, well, if you're going to be difficult—" Tom had begun.
"How about not gay?" Ron suddenly spat out.
Riddle realized that him getting closer and closer to Ron whilst he backed away did look awkward, but who was looking?
"If you're going to be difficult," Tom began again, ignoring Ron's comment, "I'll get straight to the point. What did you see, boy?" Ron arched an eyebrow. "Spit it out before I make you!"
"What did I see?" Ron asked skeptically. "I've been in this cell the whole time—!"
"In your head!" Riddle burst out. "You've an Inner Eye, boy. Haven't you figured that much out yet?" Ignoring Ron's sudden intake of air, Tom asked his question very slowly, one last time. "What did you see?"
Inner Eye? He remembered his old professor that used to teach Divination and how he'd taken the professor, her class, and the art, as a whole joke… but he was a Diviner? Ron inwardly shook his head 'no'. He hated Divination class! How in Godric's name could he be a Diviner? No one else in the Weasley clan was a Diviner— not as far as he knew, at least.
Putting his thoughts aside, he decided he'd better tell Riddle something convincing since his neck was pretty much at his hands. Ron suddenly shivered a bit. The noose around his neck was moving; it was lifting!
The rope was no longer connected to a corner of the room, but was now connected directly above him at the center of the room. They were actually going to hang him?! Ron's frantic eyes went to Riddle, as his fingers gripped the rope around his throat.
"What's going on?" Ron asked helplessly.
"You'd better tell me what I need to know. The sooner you tell me what I want, the sooner that rope stops moving." Riddle explained, grinning maliciously.
Ron looked up at the ceiling once again. The rope was magically being sucked into the ceiling!
"As long as you don't talk, the rope goes faster," Riddle said as he watched Ron get to his feet since the rope was so much shorter now. Only a meter and half more to the top of the cell.
"What do you want to know?" Ron demanded.
Ron's feet had lifted off the floor now and he used his hands to hold onto a portion of the rope above the loop around his neck. If he let go of that rope, he'd be dead and hung.
"What you saw, dammit!" Riddle screamed, as a whip-like object appeared in his hands. With this, he whacked Ron's right hand. Ron yelped. There would be a bruise mark from that, but Ron endured the pain and immediately, his hand recoiled back to the rope he was holding. Technically, he was holding onto his whole body with just his hands!
"Well, there was Harry, and Hermione—"
"What were they doing?"
Ron hadn't heard Tom; he was saying anything and everything he could to stop the rope from being sucked into the ceiling. He realized that even though he was holding onto the rope, after a certain point, the part he was holding onto would get sucked into the ceiling, and when the loop tried to get into the ceiling, he would die— he'd be hung!
Ron closed his eyes and concentrated. "There was blood, a lot of blood. Uh… Malfoy, Draco, I saw him. I saw Ginny too. Th-th-they were together. I saw a vampire, a basilisk, and a centaur— no, two centaurs." Ron coughed a bit. Only a meter more of the rope was left. "There were some dead people, too, I think. Three coffins. One was large, for a full-grown man, the other was a little smaller, maybe for his child or someone younger and another longer coffin."
"Tell me more!" Riddle urged. These were random thoughts to Ron, but they obviously made some sense to Riddle.
Ron's fingers slipped off the rope once and he squealed in terror, but held onto his life with his now sweaty and blistered fingers. "Dumbledore and Snape, I saw them, too."
"Any ideas or words you remember, boy?"
"Uh… um…" Ron stuttered a bit and then he remembered. "Something about a plan and some sort of business."
Out of curiosity, Riddle asked, "Do those terms mean anything to you from what you saw?"
"The plan—"
The door to the cell suddenly burst open! A half-meter of the rope was left, but Ron opened his eyes to see who it was and immediately, his face broke into a big grin.
"Harry! Hermione!" He greeted his two best friends.
"Ron!" Hermione cried, terror-stricken.
Ron had stopped talking about his visions, so the rope was sucked into the ceiling much faster. He only had four more inches left!
Crap! Ron thought. With clear effort, he ignored his friends' presence in the cell and began mumbling things about his visions, whether he'd already said them or not. Ron cried aloud as the rope went through the ceiling so much that he only held on with his right hand now. With all his effort, Ron swung his legs up so that his feet were on the ceiling and used his feet to push the ceiling, hoping to 'unsuck' the rope from the ceiling. No such luck.
Three inches left.
All of a sudden, Ron heard Harry gasp and Hermione squeal slightly. Then he heard Riddle: "Avada—"
Ron's eyes widened and unknowingly, he stopped muttering to see what had happened. When he did see, he almost laughed out loud, but the noose wrapped around his neck prevented him from doing so. Hermione had punched Tom Riddle's face and now had him in a chokehold! At that moment, Harry whipped out his wand and bellowed the first spell that came to his mind, "Tarantallegra!"
"What?" Hermione snorted.
Riddle, however, had vanished from the room with a pop. The dancing spell hadn't even affected him! Hermione would have pondered over this, but Ron's strangled cry prevented her from doing so. Both she and Harry took their wands and yelled, "Finite Incantatem," simultaneously and the rope around Ron's neck disappeared. Hermione was smart enough to move out of the way, but Ron fell from the ceiling and landed on Harry.
Everyone was breathing hard now, and Ron had rolled off of Harry. He was coughing and wheezing now and even though he was breathing very fast, his breathing was slowly getting back to normal. Now Ron took large breaths in through his nose and exhaled slowly through his mouth, still occasionally coughing. With his breathing under control, he got off his hands and knees and sat with his back to a wall, thoroughly exhausted, and finally looked at his friends, who looked at him, concern apparent on their faces.
"Well," he said, breaking the silence, "that was fun!"
"Ron!" Hermione moaned.
"You pillock," Harry said to his best friend.
"Nice right hook, Hermione," Ron said. "And Harry, was that blasted spell from our second year the only spell you could think of—?"
"Ron, stop acting like nothing's wrong!" Hermione said, but Ron couldn't help but go into a fit of giggles. "Stop or I'll right hook your face!" Ron stopped giggling at that, but the goofy smile plastered onto his face meant he was still laughing on the inside. Hermione sighed and turned to Harry.
Harry had a look of concern on his face now and his head was tilted at an angled towards the ground. His right hand was in a loose fist near his mouth as he bit on his right thumbnail whilst thinking about whatever it was he was thinking about. He suddenly looked up.
"So you're a Diviner?" The abruptness of his question took Ron and Hermione by surprise, but it was true, and Ron answered by raising both his eyebrows. Then Harry stopped biting his thumbnail, got up, and ran his fingers through his long hair. "I knew it."
Author's Note: Finally! I was able to add some action into this chapter! And yes, many fics make Ron a Diviner, and it works out nicely in the fic I'm weaving here, so I did it, too. ^_^ And did Hermione's Karate-chop action surprise anyone? Well, ever since her Malfoy-slap in the third installment of the series, I've imagined her as a kickass bookworm, so there's the explanation for that. :)
Chapter Seven: A nice mix of things coming up. H/Hr or R/Hr? You decide! ;) The professors finally realize some of their students are missing, we see more of the mysterious Blaise Zabini and find out more about the plan.
Thanks to Erika, Jonah, Bubble, and Chiaki Malfoy for reviewing the last chapter!
Ron gasped aloud when Draco's father came out from the shadows and into the little light provided by the glimmering of the stars above.
Lucius Malfoy first separately eyed the three people in the greenhouse then took notice of the unsecured mouthpiece that had once been on Ron's mouth. He took giant strides over to it, bent down gracefully and came back up with the mouthpiece in his hands.
Draco's stormy eyes followed his father's every move, but he dared not speak.
Lucius now put his hands behind his back, the mouthpiece behind him now as well, and turned to the Draco-who-was-Ron. "Mr. Weasley, I presume?"
Ron couldn't say anything and was only able to manage a feeble nod of his head.
Lucius turned to Ginny now, still on the floor. "Ah yes, nice to see you again, Ms. Weasley. One would think that it was you who was not in her own body. Such fine curves and slopes, such a delicate frame, so delectable." Lucius looked up at the Ron-who-was-Draco then said, "Yes, very fine indeed. You're not a little girl anymore, are you?" Ginny shivered as Lucius ran his icy fingers over her right shoulder, then they migrated to her neck and made a swooping motion upwards as he stood up straight and looked at his son— the Draco-who-was-Ron.
For a moment, he lost his cool, frozen over, composure and said, "Bah, this is just disgusting!" Purple sparks escaped Lucius' fingertips and with a hiss of his tongue and a flick of his left hand, both Ron and Draco looked up, surprised to apparently be back in their own bodies.
"That's it?" Ron suddenly said. Though he was grateful to be back in his own body, he felt it strange that it all happened so quickly; plus, his fingernails had been manicured to some extent and that just felt weird. He glanced at Draco and he hadn't even changed the blank expression on his face. Ron knew Draco's ripped pant leg was probably driving him mad, but as if he cared.
Lucius viciously turned his attention to Ron, surprised he would even speak in his presence without being addressed first. Ron realized this as well and immediately took to looking at his shoes.
Lucius sniffed in some air through his nostrils, attached in a jutting manner to the bottom of his nose, and yet again turned his head to see his son, Draco.
Draco had a blank, yet smug look on his face. Though his physical attributes had been Ron's just minutes ago, just looking at him now, one was able to realize a totally different aura about him. His gray eyes were sharp slits on his head now, glinting with glee, but perhaps speckled with a bit of fear and intimidation provided by the company of his own father. His mouth, usually a slanted line carefully sketched onto his face, was now as relaxed as a person's mouth might be whilst sleeping. Draco's hands, normally stuffed in his trouser pockets were now civilly knotted together behind his back. His legs were long poles that protruded from the ground and it seemed that Draco's expensive shoes were the roots holding him down to the greenhouse's dirt floor. Why so rigid? Malfoy's don't slouch; Rule 68 in the Malfoy family "Book" stated so, and every Malfoy knew the rules by heart. Any full-blooded Magic family had a book of rules at one time. Some chose to ignore its old ways, 'some' being families such as the Weasleys in this case, and some insisted that tradition was more important than anything and remained slaves to the family Books. Furthermore, even if a Malfoy did slouch, they didn't dare slouch in front of Lucius Malfoy.
"I see you have brought home a prize for yourself as well?" Lucius asked his son, referring to Ginny as the prize.
Realizing she was the prize and understanding to some extent what kind of 'prize' she was, Ginny's freckles quickly blended into her tomato-red face. Her eyes were wide open, but she ducked her head so no one could see her look of disgusted shock.
Draco liked presents and prizes, but Ginny Weasley was certainly not prize material. Or perhaps he didn't want her to be prize material? Whatever the reason, he suddenly coughed up an inaudible answer.
"Speak up!" Lucius barked at his son.
"She's not a prize, Father," Draco said, not sure what to expect at this remark. He looked up to see his Father's left eye twitching; a trait he'd inherited from him. Lucius looked like he was about to say something when the greenhouse door flung open once more to reveal an out-of-breath Tom Riddle, his composure uncharacteristically disheveled, and his eyes filled with anger.
"Don't move," Riddle advised, addressing Draco's father. Tom now carefully went behind Lucius and grabbed the mouthpiece he had been holding.
"Ha!" Riddle suddenly shouted. His hands were now on either side of his head, wide open, and the mouthpiece was now flying across the room and had made contact with Draco's head before he could do anything.
"Riddle, what purpose does this serve?" Lucius demanded, trying to hide his rage even though he had a vague and unwanted idea of what might have been going on.
"As you ordered, sir," Tom said as Lucius raised an eyebrow in question. "Restraining the blooded soul."
"Him?" Lucius said, taken aback.
"Aye," Riddle said, the mirth in his tone clearly apparent. "There was a small mistake, as you know, but I suppose not anymore since we have found the correct blooded soul."
Disgusted, Lucius refused to look at his son now. The mouthpiece covered the majority of the bottom half of Draco's face and only his eyes were visible. His calm composure abandoned, he had a frantic look embedded into his eyes.
Lucius sighed. "Do we have any vacancies?"
"Cells?" Riddle asked. Seeing Lucius didn't oppose, he said, "Yes, I believe we do. Only two, though. Perhaps the blooded soul will get his own—"
"No," Lucius interjected, a smile curling onto his evil face. "The girl and our blooded soul shall share. Do as you please with the other."
Ron's stomach lurched when he heard Ginny would be going somewhere with Draco, but his internal organs performed a river dance when he discovered he was the other. What were they going to do with him?
"Yes, sir," Riddle said, obviously pleased at gaining a new toy. Tom snapped his fingers and through the greenhouse doors came five, frail, black-hooded figures who looked like dementors— two carrying axes, one with a sword attached to his back, and the remaining two empty-handed.
It looked as though only one was going to take Ron away, but he began to struggle. The empty-handed figure held Ron's right arm at the moment, ready to lead him out of the room. Forgetting where he was and who was there with him, he kicked the shin of the hooded figure that approached him, but he didn't budge at all. Surprised, Ron kicked and punched every way he could and though his struggles proved to be fruitless, he began fighting even harder when he saw another hooded figure approaching him.
"Ron!" He could hear his sister crying out. "No! Ron!" He heard her scream.
"Don't let them take me!" Ron yelled helplessly through gritted teeth.
When the second hooded figure, this one also empty-handed, had reached him, it grabbed Ron's left arm. "Let me go!" Ron demanded. Though his struggling was growing weaker, he refused to be destroyed by these evil minions.
Suddenly, the figure holding onto Ron's left arm raised his own right hand. The black cloak he wore fell away to reveal what was supposed to be a hand. It had six fingers, each housing five-inch-long nails. Seeing this, Ron gasped, which turned into a cough, and led to a coughing fit. The hooded figure's fingers began approaching Ron's head and though he tried with all his might to back away, these brittle creatures weren't going to let him go. When the hand was an inch above Ron's face, a green colored gas was expelled from the hooded figure's fingertips and Ron heard one last cry from his younger sister before his knees buckled, his body went limp, and everything once again turned black.
Ginny reeled back into reality. She blinked her eyes once or twice and when she tried to move her arms, she discovered she was sitting on the floor, her arms shackled to two chains protruding from the ground. Her neck ached since she had been sitting up whilst unconscious. She surveyed the area around her and concluded she was in a prison cell, lit by an enchanted torch outside the bars to her right that held her in the room. The cell was twenty feet by twenty feet and on the opposite side of the prison cell, directly in front of her, she saw Draco Malfoy, knees curled into his chest with his head resting on his hands which were neatly laid on top of his knees.
"Draco, what—" Ginny instinctively tried to get up, but her arms wouldn't allow her to move more than an inch or two from where she sat. The shackles pulled Ginny back onto her bum. "Can you move?" She decided to ask instead.
To answer her, Draco stood straight up. Whilst she sat on the floor, his lanky body looked even taller to her. Except for the tear on his pant leg, he looked fine. "Were you actually going to turn us in back there?" Ginny suddenly exploded hysterically.
"I never said anything to Father about turning you two in," Draco said coldly, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets.
"Then what was all that fake bowing for?" Ginny asked.
Draco stiffly eyed Ginny and looked away, obviously refusing to answer.
Ginny let out an exasperated sigh and crossed her legs. "Well," she said after a long time. "Aren't you going to help me out of these things?" Ginny asked, raising her hands up.
She hadn't expected him to move, but it looked as though Draco was coming to help her; however, he stopped in the middle of the room and leaned into the air. Strangely, he didn't fall over; there was an invisible force field like a wall between the two of them.
"Oh," Ginny said softly.
Seconds later, however, a cry of surprise and an uncharacteristic groan was heard from Draco. He had fallen through the barrier!
"Draco?!" Ginny said alarmed.
Heaving himself upright and failing to hide the look of astonishment from his pale face, he put his hands on his hips. "What?"
It was Ron's turn to wake up now. He too was in a prison cell, but his didn't have bars. There were no windows in his cell and the room was as long and wide as he was. There was a door, but there was no knob; it could only be opened from the other side. Light was emitted from an unknown source in the room, and though the lighting was dim, it was enough to illuminate the stone walls surrounding him.
Ron had been lying at the back of the cell. His right elbow ached and he assumed he must have been thrown into the cell and hit the wall with his elbow. He moved the joint around and concluded it was just bruised. Slowly, he sat up, every limb of his body hurting as he moved. As he stood up, gingerly testing his legs out, he felt something on his neck. It was a rope. As if he was to be led to the gallows, a noose lay uncomfortably around his neck. The rope was connected to the far right corner of the cell and he found out soon from a nasty tug that the rope wasn't even long enough to reach the door.
Ron sat on his bum now. He'd landed like so after he'd tried to walk to the door, carelessly not paying attention to the length of the rope connected to the noose around his neck. He had his arms crossed over his chest and heaved a great sigh. What the hell was so great about him that Draco's father was after him? Ron threaded through the reasons why Mr. Malfoy might want or need him, but couldn't think of anything. It also bothered him that he felt like a dog at the moment. Finally, he sighed again and whispered to himself, "At least I'll probably end up missing the final exams."
It must've been around nighttime because Ron yawned. Even though he'd just been unconscious, he was tired nonetheless. He blinked and when his eyes opened, Tom Riddle stared him straight in the face.
"Hallo, Mr. Weasley," he said in his spooky voice. "Up, are we? Amazing, once again!"
Ron yelped at the site of Tom Riddle, now dressed nicely and not sweaty as he had been when he'd last seen him in the greenhouse. Now Ron scowled and backed his face away from Riddle's; they were so close he could smell the dead stench off Tom's shirt!
"Yes, well, if you're going to be difficult—" Tom had begun.
"How about not gay?" Ron suddenly spat out.
Riddle realized that him getting closer and closer to Ron whilst he backed away did look awkward, but who was looking?
"If you're going to be difficult," Tom began again, ignoring Ron's comment, "I'll get straight to the point. What did you see, boy?" Ron arched an eyebrow. "Spit it out before I make you!"
"What did I see?" Ron asked skeptically. "I've been in this cell the whole time—!"
"In your head!" Riddle burst out. "You've an Inner Eye, boy. Haven't you figured that much out yet?" Ignoring Ron's sudden intake of air, Tom asked his question very slowly, one last time. "What did you see?"
Inner Eye? He remembered his old professor that used to teach Divination and how he'd taken the professor, her class, and the art, as a whole joke… but he was a Diviner? Ron inwardly shook his head 'no'. He hated Divination class! How in Godric's name could he be a Diviner? No one else in the Weasley clan was a Diviner— not as far as he knew, at least.
Putting his thoughts aside, he decided he'd better tell Riddle something convincing since his neck was pretty much at his hands. Ron suddenly shivered a bit. The noose around his neck was moving; it was lifting!
The rope was no longer connected to a corner of the room, but was now connected directly above him at the center of the room. They were actually going to hang him?! Ron's frantic eyes went to Riddle, as his fingers gripped the rope around his throat.
"What's going on?" Ron asked helplessly.
"You'd better tell me what I need to know. The sooner you tell me what I want, the sooner that rope stops moving." Riddle explained, grinning maliciously.
Ron looked up at the ceiling once again. The rope was magically being sucked into the ceiling!
"As long as you don't talk, the rope goes faster," Riddle said as he watched Ron get to his feet since the rope was so much shorter now. Only a meter and half more to the top of the cell.
"What do you want to know?" Ron demanded.
Ron's feet had lifted off the floor now and he used his hands to hold onto a portion of the rope above the loop around his neck. If he let go of that rope, he'd be dead and hung.
"What you saw, dammit!" Riddle screamed, as a whip-like object appeared in his hands. With this, he whacked Ron's right hand. Ron yelped. There would be a bruise mark from that, but Ron endured the pain and immediately, his hand recoiled back to the rope he was holding. Technically, he was holding onto his whole body with just his hands!
"Well, there was Harry, and Hermione—"
"What were they doing?"
Ron hadn't heard Tom; he was saying anything and everything he could to stop the rope from being sucked into the ceiling. He realized that even though he was holding onto the rope, after a certain point, the part he was holding onto would get sucked into the ceiling, and when the loop tried to get into the ceiling, he would die— he'd be hung!
Ron closed his eyes and concentrated. "There was blood, a lot of blood. Uh… Malfoy, Draco, I saw him. I saw Ginny too. Th-th-they were together. I saw a vampire, a basilisk, and a centaur— no, two centaurs." Ron coughed a bit. Only a meter more of the rope was left. "There were some dead people, too, I think. Three coffins. One was large, for a full-grown man, the other was a little smaller, maybe for his child or someone younger and another longer coffin."
"Tell me more!" Riddle urged. These were random thoughts to Ron, but they obviously made some sense to Riddle.
Ron's fingers slipped off the rope once and he squealed in terror, but held onto his life with his now sweaty and blistered fingers. "Dumbledore and Snape, I saw them, too."
"Any ideas or words you remember, boy?"
"Uh… um…" Ron stuttered a bit and then he remembered. "Something about a plan and some sort of business."
Out of curiosity, Riddle asked, "Do those terms mean anything to you from what you saw?"
"The plan—"
The door to the cell suddenly burst open! A half-meter of the rope was left, but Ron opened his eyes to see who it was and immediately, his face broke into a big grin.
"Harry! Hermione!" He greeted his two best friends.
"Ron!" Hermione cried, terror-stricken.
Ron had stopped talking about his visions, so the rope was sucked into the ceiling much faster. He only had four more inches left!
Crap! Ron thought. With clear effort, he ignored his friends' presence in the cell and began mumbling things about his visions, whether he'd already said them or not. Ron cried aloud as the rope went through the ceiling so much that he only held on with his right hand now. With all his effort, Ron swung his legs up so that his feet were on the ceiling and used his feet to push the ceiling, hoping to 'unsuck' the rope from the ceiling. No such luck.
Three inches left.
All of a sudden, Ron heard Harry gasp and Hermione squeal slightly. Then he heard Riddle: "Avada—"
Ron's eyes widened and unknowingly, he stopped muttering to see what had happened. When he did see, he almost laughed out loud, but the noose wrapped around his neck prevented him from doing so. Hermione had punched Tom Riddle's face and now had him in a chokehold! At that moment, Harry whipped out his wand and bellowed the first spell that came to his mind, "Tarantallegra!"
"What?" Hermione snorted.
Riddle, however, had vanished from the room with a pop. The dancing spell hadn't even affected him! Hermione would have pondered over this, but Ron's strangled cry prevented her from doing so. Both she and Harry took their wands and yelled, "Finite Incantatem," simultaneously and the rope around Ron's neck disappeared. Hermione was smart enough to move out of the way, but Ron fell from the ceiling and landed on Harry.
Everyone was breathing hard now, and Ron had rolled off of Harry. He was coughing and wheezing now and even though he was breathing very fast, his breathing was slowly getting back to normal. Now Ron took large breaths in through his nose and exhaled slowly through his mouth, still occasionally coughing. With his breathing under control, he got off his hands and knees and sat with his back to a wall, thoroughly exhausted, and finally looked at his friends, who looked at him, concern apparent on their faces.
"Well," he said, breaking the silence, "that was fun!"
"Ron!" Hermione moaned.
"You pillock," Harry said to his best friend.
"Nice right hook, Hermione," Ron said. "And Harry, was that blasted spell from our second year the only spell you could think of—?"
"Ron, stop acting like nothing's wrong!" Hermione said, but Ron couldn't help but go into a fit of giggles. "Stop or I'll right hook your face!" Ron stopped giggling at that, but the goofy smile plastered onto his face meant he was still laughing on the inside. Hermione sighed and turned to Harry.
Harry had a look of concern on his face now and his head was tilted at an angled towards the ground. His right hand was in a loose fist near his mouth as he bit on his right thumbnail whilst thinking about whatever it was he was thinking about. He suddenly looked up.
"So you're a Diviner?" The abruptness of his question took Ron and Hermione by surprise, but it was true, and Ron answered by raising both his eyebrows. Then Harry stopped biting his thumbnail, got up, and ran his fingers through his long hair. "I knew it."
Author's Note: Finally! I was able to add some action into this chapter! And yes, many fics make Ron a Diviner, and it works out nicely in the fic I'm weaving here, so I did it, too. ^_^ And did Hermione's Karate-chop action surprise anyone? Well, ever since her Malfoy-slap in the third installment of the series, I've imagined her as a kickass bookworm, so there's the explanation for that. :)
Chapter Seven: A nice mix of things coming up. H/Hr or R/Hr? You decide! ;) The professors finally realize some of their students are missing, we see more of the mysterious Blaise Zabini and find out more about the plan.
Thanks to Erika, Jonah, Bubble, and Chiaki Malfoy for reviewing the last chapter!