Chapter 18: The Vision
Ginny had had her eyes closed tight, but they were wide open as she heard Draco's voice shout the death curse. Her hand had instinctively gone straight to the doorknob, but she was still shocked that he hadn't even wavered—not even a stutter could be heard in his voice.
Was he still that ruthless? So cold, heartless, and emotionless to be able to spout off the death curse just like that? He seemed like a normal teenage boy just moments ago and when Riddle had first entered the room, he had protected her. He had lied for her. A valiant move, indeed, but she wasn't going to stay hidden in this closet if it meant Draco would become a murderer…because of her.
She turned the knob. "Draco, no—you can't!"
She saw Draco gasp and turn to look at her and Ginny was taken aback. Not by the stunning gray eyes that were burning holes into her head right now—not by the look of grief and anger present on Draco's countenance—not even the fact that he was shaking all over… none of that surprised her. It was almost as if she expected all that from Draco, but what did surprise her was what she saw when she looked at Riddle.
She'd never actually seen a victim of the death curse and she had never felt compelled to find out what the aftereffects of the death curse might be. Unlike her imagination, Riddle was not a pile of simmering ashes on the floor, nor was he completely gone and disintegrated. Nothing from her wildest thoughts and dreams could have prepared her for this, for Riddle, at this very moment, stood before her, as did Draco—save Riddle looked quite confident and unstilted.
A sly smirk slithered its way across Riddle's face. "Well, well, well, little Malfoy," Tom Riddle's eyes flicked toward Draco. "Were we telling a little white lie?"
Ginny saw Draco's body become tense; he was breathing hard.
Riddle had been walking toward Draco, but suddenly straightened up and started to speak again. "You know," he began. "They always did say a little white lie could never really…hurt."
Ginny felt a chill run up her spine at the way he spoke. Riddle wasn't even concerned that a death curse had been aimed toward him and the fact that it hadn't killed him seemed to be opaque to him. She saw Draco close his eyelids; he was biting a corner of his upper lip.
Riddle suddenly swished his wand toward the door to Draco's room and a click was heard.
He smiled a ghost of a smile.
They were locked in. It would all end here.
- - - - -
"So," Harry said in utter bewilderment. "So, you, Professor Dumbledore… you and Professor Snape and Hagrid—you've all been here this whole time as well?"
"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore said as he peered down at Harry over his half-moon spectacles. "I believe you've got it correct."
Harry mouthed wordlessly and finally let out a flabbergasted, "Why?!"
Harry and Dumbledore stood facing one another, speaking. Hermione sat on the floor watching them—her lap was being used as a pillow for Ron and Snape was turned the other way preparing some sort of potion, with Hagrid's help, that would supposedly get rid of the Vipertooth venom in Ron's body.
Dumbledore gave Harry a warm smile. "I'm not quite sure, Harry." The old headmaster looked up at the ceiling and scratched his head. "No, I'm not really that sure of what we're doing here now, but I'm about five-eighths certain that you, Ms. Granger, and Mr. Weasley, were he awake, prefer it this way as opposed to wandering, or rather dozing, in Malfoy Manor all by yourselves?"
Still a bit confused, Harry nodded at his eccentric headmaster. "Yes, you're right, Professor." He gave him a meek smile.
"Potter!"
Harry jumped at hearing Snape's voice.
"Get over here now, Potter. Any time this millenium would be nice."
Harry hurried to Snape's side.
"Sit," Snape ordered.
Harry did so, sitting on his knees, but Snape put a hand on Harry's shoulder and pushed Harry's hind end all the way to the floor.
"Roll up your sleeves," the Professor growled.
"Both of them?" Harry asked a bit uncertainly.
Snape gritted his teeth and turned to look at Harry. "If I had wanted both sleeves rolled up, I would've told you to roll up both sleeves!"
Harry quickly and silently rolled up both his sleeves nonetheless, as he was still somewhat confused.
First, Snape took a set of thick tweezers and plucked out a random bunch of hairs.
Harry screamed aloud and drew his arms away, cradling the arm from which the hairs had been plucked. "What're you doing?"
"I need some of the dragon blood," Snape explained. "The blood on your skin is too dry now, so I took your hair since blood doesn't dry as quick on hair and even if it dries, the blood encases a strand of hair, therefore preserving much more blood than the surface of your skin." The professor turned back around to his bubbling potion and sprinkled in Harry's arm hairs.
"If you needed hair, why couldn't you get it off my head? It's not like I don't have enough and it wouldn't have hurt so much!" Harry whined.
"I know." Snape smirked as he continued working.
Harry silently cursed the Potions Master.
Then, without a moment's notice, Snape turned around, a crucible in his hand. From the dish, he poured a thick black tar over Harry's right arm.
"What—?!"
Before Harry could say much of anything, Snape hastily set the crucible down, grabbed Harry's other arm and put the fingers of that arm into the cold tar. "Rub this into your skin," Snape instructed.
Harry wrinkled his nose. "Why? So the enemy can smell us out?"
Snape glared. "The venom of a Vipertooth dragon is poisonous, Mr. Potter. What makes you think the blood wouldn't be? If you rub that into your skin," he said, addressing the tar-like mixture, "it will enter your bloodstream through the pores of your skin and take care of whatever blood seeped into your bloodstream as the blood dried on your skin."
This made Harry rub the solution into his hands quicker. The quicker he rubbed, the quicker the black tar began disappearing into his skin. "But why do you need the blood on my hair for Ron's potion then? You're planning on making him swallow that stuff, aren't you? Why do—?"
Snape's head whirled around, his greasy hair flying through the wind in large clumps and then sticking to his face when he stopped turning.
Sensing unwanted drama, Hermione used her small and witty voice to explain. "The blood of the Vipertooth is a weakened form of the poison present in the dragon's venom. Like antibiotics in the muggle world, you need a weakened form of a virus of some sort to help your immune system defend against the bacteria and whatnot."
"Oh, bravo Ms. Granger!" Dumbledore beamed.
Whatever snide remark Snape was about to make was stifled for now at hearing Dumbledore's comment.
There was an awkward silence, which didn't last long since Hagrid's knee had bumped some of the content Snape had set around the cauldron that Ron's potion was simmering in.
"You great oaf!" Snape yelled, turning his attention back to the potion.
"I didn't mean ta! Jus' jostled it a bit! Saved ye some mixin' 's all!"
Ron suddenly coughed in his sleep and Hermione slightly repositioned his head on her lap.
Snape glowered as he began counting the bottles and piles of ingredients. He looked up angrily at Hagrid. "We're one ingredient short, Hagrid. Where is the extra bezoar stone that was here, Hagrid?"
It was quite clear Snape suspected that Hagrid had knocked the stone into the cauldron and it was also clear that Snape was trying not to lose his temper since Albus Dumbledore stood next to him at the moment.
"Now, now, let's not lose our heads about this," Dumbledore chuckled. "I believe a bezoar stone is to save victims of poison? So it really shouldn't be a problem."
"Professor?" Hermione inquired. "What if it's like muggle medicines then?"
Dumbledore scratched his white head. "Would you care to clarify what you mean, Ms. Granger? My memory of all the muggle ways isn't its best at my age." He laughed.
Hermione didn't return his humor. "Professor, in the muggle world, no matter how good a medicine is for whatever disease or sickness, having too much can—" Hermione was trying to find an elegant way of putting it, but finally ended with, "can be bad."
A wave of fear swept over Harry.
"Ah, yes, I remember that, Ms. Granger. Very clever of you to mention it! Very clever, indeed! But this is the wizarding world, Ms. Granger, and as I'm quite sure you know, it is the same as the muggle world and different from the muggle world." Hermione gave a slight nod at this and Dumbledore turned to Snape. "Severus, go ahead and administer the potion to Mr. Weasley."
"Headmaster—"
Hagrid gave a loud sob.
"Headmaster!" Snape said over Hagrid's weeping. "I could just conjure up more ingredients and make another batch."
Dumbledore peered at Snape in a curious way, his eyes twinkling even in the dim light of Malfoy Manor. "How wise do you think that would be, Severus? I hope you haven't forgotten that we're two people short this mission. We needn't waste time."
Still hesitant, Snape turned back to the potion and conjured a cup into his hands with his wand. He poured the brew so the glass was half full; the drink was a rancid green color. He walked on his knees, knelt next to Hermione, and began to tip the contents of the cup into Ron's open mouth, but even before a single drop of the potion had entered Ron's mouth, Ron's eyes suddenly snapped open and looked around wildly.
Startled, Hermione screamed and Harry was instantly on his knees beside his best friend.
"Ron! You're awake! How do you feel?" Harry touched his arm instinctively but then drew his hand away.
Ron was shivering, maybe even convulsing, all over.
"Professor!" Harry said, hoping either of the three adults before him would answer. "Professor, what's wrong with him?"
Hagrid stared with an open jaw, Dumbledore looked as though he was analyzing the situation as he stroked his chin and Snape was the first to say anything.
"Mr. Weasley," Snape addressed Ron.
Still shivering, Ron looked to where he'd heard the voice and his eyes widened in horror. "Sn-sn-snape!" He cried. "Honest! I didn't mean to put your whole bathroom upside-down! It was Gred and—" Ron coughed—"Fred and George who put the toilet on the ceiling!"
Snape gritted his teeth at the memory of having woken up in the middle of the night sometime last month by nature's call and the surprise of going into his bathroom to find all the contents of the room on the ceiling. It had taken him two days to find the reversal spell, but some odd stains that he couldn't get rid of were still on the ceiling.
"Mr. Weasley, I've prepared this tonic for you. It'll help you feel better." Snape used his hand to pry Ron's jaw open. "Take it," he ordered in his stoic voice.
"No!" Ron cried. "I'll get the twins to reverse your bathroom! Just stop the visions! P-p-please!"
Terror gripped Harry's insides and when he looked at Hermione, he wasn't sure if Ron's shivering was making her shake as well or if she, too, was trembling.
Harry waited for Snape to administer the potion to Ron, but Professor Dumbledore suddenly shoved Snape aside, probably unintentionally, and placed his ear close to Ron.
"Visions?" Dumbledore asked in a whisper. "What kind of visions, Mr. Weasley?"
Ron didn't say anything.
"Ron!" Hermione cried aloud. "Ron! What visions are you seeing? Tell us, Ron!"
Harry felt a lump in his throat and he felt very close to being sick at seeing Ron in such a state. His best friend was covered in a thin film of sweat, convulsing every now and then, and was having visions?! Harry felt himself slowly back away from Hermione, Ron and Dumbledore.
Who cares what Ron's visions are? Harry thought. Why can't Dumbledore or Snape or whoever just give Ron the potion? He has a brain—he can remember the stupid vision and tell them about it after he's back to normal and cured from the Vipertooth poison!
Dumbledore turned away. "Oh dear," he whispered. "He's not responding… this can't be goo—"
"Ginny!" Ron rasped.
And at this, even Harry forgot his previous thoughts to turn to Ron, as did everyone within the small group.
"He knows where Draco and Ginny are!" Hermione gasped.
With renewed hope, Dumbledore turned back to Ron. "Mr. Weasley, do you see Draco Malfoy and your sister? Can you see where they are?"
"Ginny!" Ron whispered again, now shivering even more than before.
"Do you see Mr. Malfoy?" Snape growled between his teeth.
Dumbledore placed a hand on Snape's shoulder, silently asking him to control his temper.
"No! Ginny!" Ron cried again.
Harry and Hermione exchanged worried looks.
- - - - -
"So," Riddle gave Draco a sly grin. "You kept her in your closet?" He turned to Ginny and eyed her. "Nice. Even if she is a Gryffindor."
Draco tried to remain impassive, but he kept staring where Riddle was staring—at Ginny. She stared back with wide eyes, filled with questions and flooded with terror.
"Leave her out of this!" Draco yelled, clenching his fists.
Riddle turned to look at Draco now. "And what if I don't? Will you try to kill me again?" He laughed.
Draco gripped his wand harder. "I will kill you and you know it. I am a Malfoy—a potential Death Eater! And you think I won't utter the death curse to end your pathetic existence?"
"That silver tongue of yours has never been very good to you, young Malfoy—"
"Expelliarmus!" Draco shouted.
Caught off guard, Riddle was thrown onto Draco's bed as his wand flew into Draco's hand. Draco put the wand in his back pocket. He leveled his wand. "I won't hesitate to administer the death curse."
Riddle was already up. "You've already hesitated," he scoffed.
Draco felt his fingers tighten around his wand.
Before Draco or Ginny could do anything, Riddle had reached into his robes and pulled out another wand. "Expelliarmus!"
Draco held onto his wand tightly as the effects of Riddle's spell threw him into the wall, but the wand he'd stuffed into his back pocket shot into the air and flew toward Riddle.
Riddle caught the wand and now aimed both wands at Draco. But then he turned and before Draco could do anything, "Petrificus Totalus!"
Draco watched as Ginny's surprised face froze and she fell to the floor with a thud.
"Leave her out of this!" Draco yelled. "She has nothing to do with this!"
Riddle fired both his wands and Draco dodged the oncoming spells just in time. When he looked up, there was a large hole in the wall where the spells had hit. He could see outside; it was raining.
"She has everything to do with this—"
Draco had fired a spell at Riddle and it caught the edge of Riddle's robes. He tore the burning cape off and threw it out the hole in the wall.
"Impressive," Riddle said, surprised that he hadn't hit Draco yet.
Waiting for the next spell, Draco was almost caught off guard when Riddle threw his wand at him. But he'd seen this one before. Just as the wand turned into a knife in mid-air, Draco jumped aside and landed on the marble floor on his shoulder. But immediately, he shouted aloud; the knife had nicked his upper arm.
Draco scrambled back to his feet, strengthening his grip on his wand once more, but Riddle had backed him into a wall now—this duel would be over soon.
Draco looked over Riddle's shoulder and saw Ginny had begun to stir. The petrifaction spell was beginning to wear off. Good, Draco thought.
Focusing back on the battle at hand, Draco tried to think of anything he could do. He caught a flash of light at the corner of his eye and when he turned, he realized it was the knife Riddle had thrown at him. He pulled it out of the wall and began jabbing at Riddle. Riddle parried all his blows, but always moved in such a way that Draco was still against the wall. They moved throughout the room like that for what seemed like hours and Draco wondered why Riddle hadn't fired a spell at him yet—he was backed against the wall! What was he waiting for? But seconds later, Draco realized almost too late what Riddle had been doing. As Draco moved throughout the room, his back against the wall, he suddenly felt the wall behind him disappear. There was a rush of cool air and rain, and he staggered backward into the night. The hole in the wall! He now realized what Riddle had in mind.
Draco immediately sensed the precipice behind him—a hundred-foot drop to the ground below, and was only able to take a step forward to lengthen his distance from the dimming day behind him.
Riddle wasted no time. With a violent surge, he lunged. Riddle's wand, now a knife, sliced toward Draco's midsection. Draco skidded back and the point came up short, catching only his shirt, but it had caused Draco to drop his wand and the knife. He watched in despair as his wand rolled away out of reach. Again the knifepoint came at him. Draco slid farther back, feeling his heels on the very edge of the remaining floor beneath him. Certain the next jab would kill him, Draco attempted the absurd. Spinning to one side, he reached out and grabbed Riddle's wand, sending a jolt of pain through the arm Riddle's knife had previously slit. Draco held on.
Riddle seemed unfazed. They strained for a moment against one another, face to face, the dark wizard's breath fetid in Draco's nostrils. The wand began to slip. Riddle was too strong. In a final act of desperation, Draco stretched out his leg, dangerously off balance as he tried to ram his foot into Riddle's stomach. But Riddle swatted it out of the way.
Draco had just played his final card. He knew he had lost the hand.
Riddle's arms exploded upward, driving Draco back against the edge of the wall. Draco sensed nothing but empty space behind him as his buttocks slid off the wet wall behind him. Ignoring the pain in his injured arm, Draco reached out and grabbed onto the wall as a last attempt at survival.
Draco looked up and saw his enemy had turned his knife into a crowbar. Riddle held the bar crosswise and drove it into Draco's chest. Draco's back arched over the chasm.
Riddle sneered. "Goodbye."
With a merciless glare, Riddle gave a final shove. Draco's center of gravity shifted, and his feet swung up off the floor. With only one hope of survival, Draco grabbed onto the floor as he fell over. His left hand slipped, but his right hand held on.
"Why can't you just die?" Riddle asked through gritted teeth, clearly annoyed at Draco's efforts to live. Riddle placed a foot on Draco's hand and slowly placed more and more weight on it.
Draco desperately tried to grab onto the ledge with his left hand. He swung his feet up, trying to somehow get a better grip on—on anything! But it was no use. Draco groaned as he began to lose the feeling in the fingers on his right hand.
Dammit! This sure is a lame way to die.
And suddenly, Draco heard something. It was a voice—a voice that seemed somewhat unfamiliar, but a welcoming voice—a warming, relieving voice. He knew whom it belonged to.
The voice had shouted a spell and Riddle yelled, lifting his foot off Draco's hand as the spell hit the dark wizard's back. Taking his chance, Draco finally got his left hand onto the ledge, scrambled up a bit more and now hung onto the ledge by his arms instead of by his hands. He then swung his legs up and got his left leg onto the floor; he was almost back into the room—granted he was soaking wet, but he was alive all the same. However, when he looked up, he saw Riddle being driven backwards, falling off the ledge.
A fleeting moment of relief filled Draco's body, but then he saw that Riddle had grabbed onto something on his way down.
Draco's eyes widened and he yelled in horror as he watched a flurry of crimson hair tumbling through the air with Riddle.
- - - - -
"No! Ginny!"
Then Ron suddenly became still.
Dumbledore tipped Snape's potion into Ron's mouth. "The visions have ceased for now."
Author's Note: I came back from Europe three days ago, so I finished this chapter in record time! I only hope that I've done the chapter justice even though I kind of rushed through it. =/ However, I was a little excited whilst writing DINB18… a young lady named Rinoa IMed me the day I came home from Europe and sent me the link to Deception, a DINB fansite that she'd created! I was nothing less than absolutely thrilled, so I hope that you'll visit Deception and take a look at Rinoa's hard work (she created the site in TWO days!). I can't post URLs inside the chapters, but the URL to the fansite is posted in my (Ferret2) ffNET user profile. :)
Chapter 19: We're obviously going to find out what happens to Riddle and the "flurry of crimson hair" (I'm sure no one's figured out whom that belongs to). Then back to the Harry/Ron/Hermione/Dumbledore/Snape/Hagrid scene… and then some more action. This fic's rounding down—it's almost over!
Credits: The part where Draco's teetering (kind of) and about to fall through the hole in the wall comes from Angels & Demons by Dan Brown. It's pretty much similar to one of the ending scenes in that novel (I LOVE that novel!!) and while I was writing this, I thought of incorporating parts of it into this chapter.
Yay! Many thanks to my reviewers once again: Eiko, Jonah, bigreader, ugahill, Chrisoriented, Alyssa Rose, Spinn, Moogie, crazyfire89, and SMILE. Yall are what keep the wheels churnin'!
Ginny had had her eyes closed tight, but they were wide open as she heard Draco's voice shout the death curse. Her hand had instinctively gone straight to the doorknob, but she was still shocked that he hadn't even wavered—not even a stutter could be heard in his voice.
Was he still that ruthless? So cold, heartless, and emotionless to be able to spout off the death curse just like that? He seemed like a normal teenage boy just moments ago and when Riddle had first entered the room, he had protected her. He had lied for her. A valiant move, indeed, but she wasn't going to stay hidden in this closet if it meant Draco would become a murderer…because of her.
She turned the knob. "Draco, no—you can't!"
She saw Draco gasp and turn to look at her and Ginny was taken aback. Not by the stunning gray eyes that were burning holes into her head right now—not by the look of grief and anger present on Draco's countenance—not even the fact that he was shaking all over… none of that surprised her. It was almost as if she expected all that from Draco, but what did surprise her was what she saw when she looked at Riddle.
She'd never actually seen a victim of the death curse and she had never felt compelled to find out what the aftereffects of the death curse might be. Unlike her imagination, Riddle was not a pile of simmering ashes on the floor, nor was he completely gone and disintegrated. Nothing from her wildest thoughts and dreams could have prepared her for this, for Riddle, at this very moment, stood before her, as did Draco—save Riddle looked quite confident and unstilted.
A sly smirk slithered its way across Riddle's face. "Well, well, well, little Malfoy," Tom Riddle's eyes flicked toward Draco. "Were we telling a little white lie?"
Ginny saw Draco's body become tense; he was breathing hard.
Riddle had been walking toward Draco, but suddenly straightened up and started to speak again. "You know," he began. "They always did say a little white lie could never really…hurt."
Ginny felt a chill run up her spine at the way he spoke. Riddle wasn't even concerned that a death curse had been aimed toward him and the fact that it hadn't killed him seemed to be opaque to him. She saw Draco close his eyelids; he was biting a corner of his upper lip.
Riddle suddenly swished his wand toward the door to Draco's room and a click was heard.
He smiled a ghost of a smile.
They were locked in. It would all end here.
"So," Harry said in utter bewilderment. "So, you, Professor Dumbledore… you and Professor Snape and Hagrid—you've all been here this whole time as well?"
"Yes, Harry," Dumbledore said as he peered down at Harry over his half-moon spectacles. "I believe you've got it correct."
Harry mouthed wordlessly and finally let out a flabbergasted, "Why?!"
Harry and Dumbledore stood facing one another, speaking. Hermione sat on the floor watching them—her lap was being used as a pillow for Ron and Snape was turned the other way preparing some sort of potion, with Hagrid's help, that would supposedly get rid of the Vipertooth venom in Ron's body.
Dumbledore gave Harry a warm smile. "I'm not quite sure, Harry." The old headmaster looked up at the ceiling and scratched his head. "No, I'm not really that sure of what we're doing here now, but I'm about five-eighths certain that you, Ms. Granger, and Mr. Weasley, were he awake, prefer it this way as opposed to wandering, or rather dozing, in Malfoy Manor all by yourselves?"
Still a bit confused, Harry nodded at his eccentric headmaster. "Yes, you're right, Professor." He gave him a meek smile.
"Potter!"
Harry jumped at hearing Snape's voice.
"Get over here now, Potter. Any time this millenium would be nice."
Harry hurried to Snape's side.
"Sit," Snape ordered.
Harry did so, sitting on his knees, but Snape put a hand on Harry's shoulder and pushed Harry's hind end all the way to the floor.
"Roll up your sleeves," the Professor growled.
"Both of them?" Harry asked a bit uncertainly.
Snape gritted his teeth and turned to look at Harry. "If I had wanted both sleeves rolled up, I would've told you to roll up both sleeves!"
Harry quickly and silently rolled up both his sleeves nonetheless, as he was still somewhat confused.
First, Snape took a set of thick tweezers and plucked out a random bunch of hairs.
Harry screamed aloud and drew his arms away, cradling the arm from which the hairs had been plucked. "What're you doing?"
"I need some of the dragon blood," Snape explained. "The blood on your skin is too dry now, so I took your hair since blood doesn't dry as quick on hair and even if it dries, the blood encases a strand of hair, therefore preserving much more blood than the surface of your skin." The professor turned back around to his bubbling potion and sprinkled in Harry's arm hairs.
"If you needed hair, why couldn't you get it off my head? It's not like I don't have enough and it wouldn't have hurt so much!" Harry whined.
"I know." Snape smirked as he continued working.
Harry silently cursed the Potions Master.
Then, without a moment's notice, Snape turned around, a crucible in his hand. From the dish, he poured a thick black tar over Harry's right arm.
"What—?!"
Before Harry could say much of anything, Snape hastily set the crucible down, grabbed Harry's other arm and put the fingers of that arm into the cold tar. "Rub this into your skin," Snape instructed.
Harry wrinkled his nose. "Why? So the enemy can smell us out?"
Snape glared. "The venom of a Vipertooth dragon is poisonous, Mr. Potter. What makes you think the blood wouldn't be? If you rub that into your skin," he said, addressing the tar-like mixture, "it will enter your bloodstream through the pores of your skin and take care of whatever blood seeped into your bloodstream as the blood dried on your skin."
This made Harry rub the solution into his hands quicker. The quicker he rubbed, the quicker the black tar began disappearing into his skin. "But why do you need the blood on my hair for Ron's potion then? You're planning on making him swallow that stuff, aren't you? Why do—?"
Snape's head whirled around, his greasy hair flying through the wind in large clumps and then sticking to his face when he stopped turning.
Sensing unwanted drama, Hermione used her small and witty voice to explain. "The blood of the Vipertooth is a weakened form of the poison present in the dragon's venom. Like antibiotics in the muggle world, you need a weakened form of a virus of some sort to help your immune system defend against the bacteria and whatnot."
"Oh, bravo Ms. Granger!" Dumbledore beamed.
Whatever snide remark Snape was about to make was stifled for now at hearing Dumbledore's comment.
There was an awkward silence, which didn't last long since Hagrid's knee had bumped some of the content Snape had set around the cauldron that Ron's potion was simmering in.
"You great oaf!" Snape yelled, turning his attention back to the potion.
"I didn't mean ta! Jus' jostled it a bit! Saved ye some mixin' 's all!"
Ron suddenly coughed in his sleep and Hermione slightly repositioned his head on her lap.
Snape glowered as he began counting the bottles and piles of ingredients. He looked up angrily at Hagrid. "We're one ingredient short, Hagrid. Where is the extra bezoar stone that was here, Hagrid?"
It was quite clear Snape suspected that Hagrid had knocked the stone into the cauldron and it was also clear that Snape was trying not to lose his temper since Albus Dumbledore stood next to him at the moment.
"Now, now, let's not lose our heads about this," Dumbledore chuckled. "I believe a bezoar stone is to save victims of poison? So it really shouldn't be a problem."
"Professor?" Hermione inquired. "What if it's like muggle medicines then?"
Dumbledore scratched his white head. "Would you care to clarify what you mean, Ms. Granger? My memory of all the muggle ways isn't its best at my age." He laughed.
Hermione didn't return his humor. "Professor, in the muggle world, no matter how good a medicine is for whatever disease or sickness, having too much can—" Hermione was trying to find an elegant way of putting it, but finally ended with, "can be bad."
A wave of fear swept over Harry.
"Ah, yes, I remember that, Ms. Granger. Very clever of you to mention it! Very clever, indeed! But this is the wizarding world, Ms. Granger, and as I'm quite sure you know, it is the same as the muggle world and different from the muggle world." Hermione gave a slight nod at this and Dumbledore turned to Snape. "Severus, go ahead and administer the potion to Mr. Weasley."
"Headmaster—"
Hagrid gave a loud sob.
"Headmaster!" Snape said over Hagrid's weeping. "I could just conjure up more ingredients and make another batch."
Dumbledore peered at Snape in a curious way, his eyes twinkling even in the dim light of Malfoy Manor. "How wise do you think that would be, Severus? I hope you haven't forgotten that we're two people short this mission. We needn't waste time."
Still hesitant, Snape turned back to the potion and conjured a cup into his hands with his wand. He poured the brew so the glass was half full; the drink was a rancid green color. He walked on his knees, knelt next to Hermione, and began to tip the contents of the cup into Ron's open mouth, but even before a single drop of the potion had entered Ron's mouth, Ron's eyes suddenly snapped open and looked around wildly.
Startled, Hermione screamed and Harry was instantly on his knees beside his best friend.
"Ron! You're awake! How do you feel?" Harry touched his arm instinctively but then drew his hand away.
Ron was shivering, maybe even convulsing, all over.
"Professor!" Harry said, hoping either of the three adults before him would answer. "Professor, what's wrong with him?"
Hagrid stared with an open jaw, Dumbledore looked as though he was analyzing the situation as he stroked his chin and Snape was the first to say anything.
"Mr. Weasley," Snape addressed Ron.
Still shivering, Ron looked to where he'd heard the voice and his eyes widened in horror. "Sn-sn-snape!" He cried. "Honest! I didn't mean to put your whole bathroom upside-down! It was Gred and—" Ron coughed—"Fred and George who put the toilet on the ceiling!"
Snape gritted his teeth at the memory of having woken up in the middle of the night sometime last month by nature's call and the surprise of going into his bathroom to find all the contents of the room on the ceiling. It had taken him two days to find the reversal spell, but some odd stains that he couldn't get rid of were still on the ceiling.
"Mr. Weasley, I've prepared this tonic for you. It'll help you feel better." Snape used his hand to pry Ron's jaw open. "Take it," he ordered in his stoic voice.
"No!" Ron cried. "I'll get the twins to reverse your bathroom! Just stop the visions! P-p-please!"
Terror gripped Harry's insides and when he looked at Hermione, he wasn't sure if Ron's shivering was making her shake as well or if she, too, was trembling.
Harry waited for Snape to administer the potion to Ron, but Professor Dumbledore suddenly shoved Snape aside, probably unintentionally, and placed his ear close to Ron.
"Visions?" Dumbledore asked in a whisper. "What kind of visions, Mr. Weasley?"
Ron didn't say anything.
"Ron!" Hermione cried aloud. "Ron! What visions are you seeing? Tell us, Ron!"
Harry felt a lump in his throat and he felt very close to being sick at seeing Ron in such a state. His best friend was covered in a thin film of sweat, convulsing every now and then, and was having visions?! Harry felt himself slowly back away from Hermione, Ron and Dumbledore.
Who cares what Ron's visions are? Harry thought. Why can't Dumbledore or Snape or whoever just give Ron the potion? He has a brain—he can remember the stupid vision and tell them about it after he's back to normal and cured from the Vipertooth poison!
Dumbledore turned away. "Oh dear," he whispered. "He's not responding… this can't be goo—"
"Ginny!" Ron rasped.
And at this, even Harry forgot his previous thoughts to turn to Ron, as did everyone within the small group.
"He knows where Draco and Ginny are!" Hermione gasped.
With renewed hope, Dumbledore turned back to Ron. "Mr. Weasley, do you see Draco Malfoy and your sister? Can you see where they are?"
"Ginny!" Ron whispered again, now shivering even more than before.
"Do you see Mr. Malfoy?" Snape growled between his teeth.
Dumbledore placed a hand on Snape's shoulder, silently asking him to control his temper.
"No! Ginny!" Ron cried again.
Harry and Hermione exchanged worried looks.
"So," Riddle gave Draco a sly grin. "You kept her in your closet?" He turned to Ginny and eyed her. "Nice. Even if she is a Gryffindor."
Draco tried to remain impassive, but he kept staring where Riddle was staring—at Ginny. She stared back with wide eyes, filled with questions and flooded with terror.
"Leave her out of this!" Draco yelled, clenching his fists.
Riddle turned to look at Draco now. "And what if I don't? Will you try to kill me again?" He laughed.
Draco gripped his wand harder. "I will kill you and you know it. I am a Malfoy—a potential Death Eater! And you think I won't utter the death curse to end your pathetic existence?"
"That silver tongue of yours has never been very good to you, young Malfoy—"
"Expelliarmus!" Draco shouted.
Caught off guard, Riddle was thrown onto Draco's bed as his wand flew into Draco's hand. Draco put the wand in his back pocket. He leveled his wand. "I won't hesitate to administer the death curse."
Riddle was already up. "You've already hesitated," he scoffed.
Draco felt his fingers tighten around his wand.
Before Draco or Ginny could do anything, Riddle had reached into his robes and pulled out another wand. "Expelliarmus!"
Draco held onto his wand tightly as the effects of Riddle's spell threw him into the wall, but the wand he'd stuffed into his back pocket shot into the air and flew toward Riddle.
Riddle caught the wand and now aimed both wands at Draco. But then he turned and before Draco could do anything, "Petrificus Totalus!"
Draco watched as Ginny's surprised face froze and she fell to the floor with a thud.
"Leave her out of this!" Draco yelled. "She has nothing to do with this!"
Riddle fired both his wands and Draco dodged the oncoming spells just in time. When he looked up, there was a large hole in the wall where the spells had hit. He could see outside; it was raining.
"She has everything to do with this—"
Draco had fired a spell at Riddle and it caught the edge of Riddle's robes. He tore the burning cape off and threw it out the hole in the wall.
"Impressive," Riddle said, surprised that he hadn't hit Draco yet.
Waiting for the next spell, Draco was almost caught off guard when Riddle threw his wand at him. But he'd seen this one before. Just as the wand turned into a knife in mid-air, Draco jumped aside and landed on the marble floor on his shoulder. But immediately, he shouted aloud; the knife had nicked his upper arm.
Draco scrambled back to his feet, strengthening his grip on his wand once more, but Riddle had backed him into a wall now—this duel would be over soon.
Draco looked over Riddle's shoulder and saw Ginny had begun to stir. The petrifaction spell was beginning to wear off. Good, Draco thought.
Focusing back on the battle at hand, Draco tried to think of anything he could do. He caught a flash of light at the corner of his eye and when he turned, he realized it was the knife Riddle had thrown at him. He pulled it out of the wall and began jabbing at Riddle. Riddle parried all his blows, but always moved in such a way that Draco was still against the wall. They moved throughout the room like that for what seemed like hours and Draco wondered why Riddle hadn't fired a spell at him yet—he was backed against the wall! What was he waiting for? But seconds later, Draco realized almost too late what Riddle had been doing. As Draco moved throughout the room, his back against the wall, he suddenly felt the wall behind him disappear. There was a rush of cool air and rain, and he staggered backward into the night. The hole in the wall! He now realized what Riddle had in mind.
Draco immediately sensed the precipice behind him—a hundred-foot drop to the ground below, and was only able to take a step forward to lengthen his distance from the dimming day behind him.
Riddle wasted no time. With a violent surge, he lunged. Riddle's wand, now a knife, sliced toward Draco's midsection. Draco skidded back and the point came up short, catching only his shirt, but it had caused Draco to drop his wand and the knife. He watched in despair as his wand rolled away out of reach. Again the knifepoint came at him. Draco slid farther back, feeling his heels on the very edge of the remaining floor beneath him. Certain the next jab would kill him, Draco attempted the absurd. Spinning to one side, he reached out and grabbed Riddle's wand, sending a jolt of pain through the arm Riddle's knife had previously slit. Draco held on.
Riddle seemed unfazed. They strained for a moment against one another, face to face, the dark wizard's breath fetid in Draco's nostrils. The wand began to slip. Riddle was too strong. In a final act of desperation, Draco stretched out his leg, dangerously off balance as he tried to ram his foot into Riddle's stomach. But Riddle swatted it out of the way.
Draco had just played his final card. He knew he had lost the hand.
Riddle's arms exploded upward, driving Draco back against the edge of the wall. Draco sensed nothing but empty space behind him as his buttocks slid off the wet wall behind him. Ignoring the pain in his injured arm, Draco reached out and grabbed onto the wall as a last attempt at survival.
Draco looked up and saw his enemy had turned his knife into a crowbar. Riddle held the bar crosswise and drove it into Draco's chest. Draco's back arched over the chasm.
Riddle sneered. "Goodbye."
With a merciless glare, Riddle gave a final shove. Draco's center of gravity shifted, and his feet swung up off the floor. With only one hope of survival, Draco grabbed onto the floor as he fell over. His left hand slipped, but his right hand held on.
"Why can't you just die?" Riddle asked through gritted teeth, clearly annoyed at Draco's efforts to live. Riddle placed a foot on Draco's hand and slowly placed more and more weight on it.
Draco desperately tried to grab onto the ledge with his left hand. He swung his feet up, trying to somehow get a better grip on—on anything! But it was no use. Draco groaned as he began to lose the feeling in the fingers on his right hand.
Dammit! This sure is a lame way to die.
And suddenly, Draco heard something. It was a voice—a voice that seemed somewhat unfamiliar, but a welcoming voice—a warming, relieving voice. He knew whom it belonged to.
The voice had shouted a spell and Riddle yelled, lifting his foot off Draco's hand as the spell hit the dark wizard's back. Taking his chance, Draco finally got his left hand onto the ledge, scrambled up a bit more and now hung onto the ledge by his arms instead of by his hands. He then swung his legs up and got his left leg onto the floor; he was almost back into the room—granted he was soaking wet, but he was alive all the same. However, when he looked up, he saw Riddle being driven backwards, falling off the ledge.
A fleeting moment of relief filled Draco's body, but then he saw that Riddle had grabbed onto something on his way down.
Draco's eyes widened and he yelled in horror as he watched a flurry of crimson hair tumbling through the air with Riddle.
"No! Ginny!"
Then Ron suddenly became still.
Dumbledore tipped Snape's potion into Ron's mouth. "The visions have ceased for now."
Author's Note: I came back from Europe three days ago, so I finished this chapter in record time! I only hope that I've done the chapter justice even though I kind of rushed through it. =/ However, I was a little excited whilst writing DINB18… a young lady named Rinoa IMed me the day I came home from Europe and sent me the link to Deception, a DINB fansite that she'd created! I was nothing less than absolutely thrilled, so I hope that you'll visit Deception and take a look at Rinoa's hard work (she created the site in TWO days!). I can't post URLs inside the chapters, but the URL to the fansite is posted in my (Ferret2) ffNET user profile. :)
Chapter 19: We're obviously going to find out what happens to Riddle and the "flurry of crimson hair" (I'm sure no one's figured out whom that belongs to). Then back to the Harry/Ron/Hermione/Dumbledore/Snape/Hagrid scene… and then some more action. This fic's rounding down—it's almost over!
Credits: The part where Draco's teetering (kind of) and about to fall through the hole in the wall comes from Angels & Demons by Dan Brown. It's pretty much similar to one of the ending scenes in that novel (I LOVE that novel!!) and while I was writing this, I thought of incorporating parts of it into this chapter.
Yay! Many thanks to my reviewers once again: Eiko, Jonah, bigreader, ugahill, Chrisoriented, Alyssa Rose, Spinn, Moogie, crazyfire89, and SMILE. Yall are what keep the wheels churnin'!