Chapter 6
Consciousness returned after only a few moments. When it did, Harry sat up so fast and with such alertness that it would have made Mad-Eye Moody (the real one or the impostor) proud. Needless to say, Harry himself was rather shocked. That emotion was only topped by the rising tide of panic at the recollection of the vision that had caused his fainting spell in the first place.
His first muddled thought was to risk exposure to the Muggles and fly his Firebolt (the amazing racing broom Sirius had given him in his third year at Hogwarts) to save the family. This idea was quickly quashed when he forced his fear down and ordered himself to look at the situation logically. First of all, he had no idea whether or not what he had seen had taken place during the day or at night. Looking out the window, he was relieved to see the sun barely at the noon position. Second, and more pressing, was the uncertainty as to whether what he had witnessed was a thing of the past or future. Yet, now that he stopped to think about it, there was one slim hope. He remembered the figures in the cloaks had all been bathed in shadows, which normally suggested little light. Since they were standing outside in the middle of the lawn, and as he remembered he thought he had heard drunken singing, he was forced to the conclusion that the attack would happen or, Merlin forbid, had already happened, at night. He was certain that it had not been the present as the sky outside in his vision (from what he could remember) had shown the first feeble light of the new moon. No, rushing off on his trusty broomstick to try and save the day certainly would help no one.
His biggest problem, however, seemed almost insurmountable. He had no idea where in Merlin's creation Hermione Granger lived. He was still certain that his Firebolt would be the most secure and quick means of transportation. However, if he wasn't able to come up with the Grangers' location by nightfall, he might as well abandon his friend to torture and death. In short, failure was not an option.
With his mind made up, Harry sprang to his feet and entered the kitchen in two long strides. A short search of the kitchen provided him what he wanted. It was a Greater London directory. Trying to keep himself calm, Harry thumbed rapidly through the enormous volume.
"G. ,,, GE ,,, GO ,,, GU, damn too far. ,,, GR," Harry muttered to himself.
Scanning quickly down the list, he felt his heart seize up. The name 'Granger' was not as uncommon as he had hoped. There were over forty listings in the Greater London area.
He was about to slam the book shut in a bout of frustration when he froze. It was only a whisper, or perhaps it was the ghost of a voice he had heard before on television, but he was certain a voice had muttered in his ear "trust your feelings."
With some difficulty, Harry was eventually able to calm his mind enough to take another look at the phone book. This time, he was much calmer, taking deep breaths and letting the energy of the Force flow through him again. Once his mind was completely focused on his task, he again looked down at the long list of Granger entries in the phone book.
And suddenly, there it was.
'Granger, Scott & Haylee'
Staring at the entry, he had the fleeting impression of a chair, a short drill, and a large case containing what appeared to be at least a hundred toothbrushes.
And he knew he was right.
After all, Hermione's parents were both dentists. This was it.
He only took the time to memorize the address before closing the book with a snap. Rifling through some more of his aunt's papers, he was pleased to locate an atlas of the area.
The next few moments would have been a blur to anybody watching the young man. After carefully folding the atlas and stuffing it in his pocket, he was off, racing upstairs with only one thought on his mind: packing.
Luckily, he had finished all of his school work earlier in the summer. Being bored and trying to forget the nightmarish end to his fourth year at Hogwarts had been more than enough of a motive for him to go ahead and complete his homework. Therefore, with all of his schoolbooks already packed away in his trunk with his homework, it was only a matter of tossing in the few extra clothes lying around his room that he would not be totally embarrassed to be seen in. Once all of this material, plus all of his birthday gifts, were securely stored in the trunk, Harry paused only long enough to retrieve his beloved Firebolt from the bottom of the trunk and, after a moment's deliberation, also snatched up the Invisibility Cloak that had once belonged to his father. After all, if he was to escape with as little punishment as possible, it would not do to be seen by Muggles if he could help it.
He had one other task to perform before he could leave. Rousing Hedwig from her sleep (Hedwig was not at all slow in hooting her displeasure over this treatment), he wrote two hurried notes.
Dear Professor Dumbledore:
I have reason to believe that Hermione Granger's house will be attacked by Death Eaters in the near future. I have had a vision of such an attack happening at night, and I can not afford to think that what I have seen has already happened. Please send help to her location as soon as you can. I am going myself, and I will do whatever I must to get there, Ministry of Magic or no.
Please help,
Harry
He tied this note to Hedwig's leg and after another hoot of irritation with her young master, she spread her wings and soared out of the window that Harry opened for her.
The second note was much shorter.
Dursleys,
Gone probably for the summer, if I can help it.
Your freakish nephew and/or cousin,
Harry
At last he was ready. Clipping his lightsaber to his belt, he raised his wand without hesitation and pointed it at his trunk. On a whim, he closed his eyes, visualized the beauty of the Force surrounding him, and focused it on the trunk. He imagined the trunk shrinking in size until it was no larger than a wallet before opening his eyes. He was elated to see that the combination of his wand and the Force had indeed allowed him to shrink his trunk, hopefully without alerting the goons at the Ministry. Even if he was not to be so lucky, Harry was beyond caring. Scooping up the trunk and placing it in his pocket, Harry donned the Invisibility Cloak, mounted his Firebolt, and following Hedwig's example, he sped out the open window, soaring away from Privet Drive, the cloak managing to barely cover him and his broom.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
If the Muggle eye could pass through countless Concealment Charms, the commuters that frequently passed through King's Cross Station night have been more than a little surprised to notice a new track squashed in between platforms nine and ten. They might had been even more surprised if they followed these tracks northward, leaving the city of London behind quickly and plunging through increasingly less populous country. If one followed these tracks far enough, one would eventually pass out of England and in to its neighbor to the north, Scotland. And, finally, if persistence paid off and one reached the end of the tracks, one would find oneself in the somewhat quaint village of Hogsmeade. Or, at least, quaint is how the little village would appear to Muggles. However, there was nothing quaint about the cozy all wizarding village.
But let us not dwell on this tiny oasis of humanity in the middle of a deserted moor. Instead, let us continue northward through Hogsmeade not stopping to gape at the sign over a door reading 'The Three Broomsticks'. Let us not wonder too much at the strange hooting noises coming from the building marked simply "Post Office". For none of these shops, interesting as they are, have led us to travel so far from our starting point. Instead, let us walk on up the road, perhaps clutching a cloak rather tightly to ward off the chill of a late August afternoon.
And then, rounding a final curve in the road, we finally see our objective. The view is breathtaking! For what we see, again minus the Concealment Charms that have been so painstakingly enforced over countless centuries to keep Muggles away, is a splendid castle. Its turrets catch the fading afternoon sunlight, perhaps like the teeth of some hopefully long extinct monster. Its broad iron gates look slightly foreboding. Indeed, if it is not for the tiny winking lights that spill from the hundreds of windows in the castle, one might be tempted to flee in the opposite direction on general principle. However, we do not flee. Instead, incredibly as it may seem, we find ourselves rising in to the air and drifting, yes actually drifting, through the crisp afternoon air toward the mammoth structure. In fact, we drift so near to the edifice that we can catch the occasional glimpse through the windows in to the lighted interior.
We see a large hall, its ceiling showing a an exact replica of the outside conditions. Below, we see the vague outlines of five tables. Each of these tables seems to have a banner hanging over it. One such banner might contain a lion in golds and reds. Another might be a badger.
But before we can see more, we rise higher and circle around to the northeast corner of the castle, where it appears we have reached our final destination.
The room we are now viewing is one of the strangest rooms we have probably ever seen. Strange, whirring contraptions seem to litter every surface that is not covered in books or assorted papers. Many pictures seem to cover the walls, most of them depicting distinguished looking older men and women, all of whom seemed to have a strangely wise or unsettling cunning look about them.
We have barely enough time to realize the office is devoid of any life, save for a magnificent golden-red bird that perches contentedly on a stand in the corner of the office, when we are interrupted from our perusal by a hooting noise getting ever louder. Eventually, we are somewhat surprised to see a snowy white owl zoom right past us and in to the open window of the office. And seeing the arrival of this bird at nearly sundown on this day in early August, we start to get an uneasy feeling in our stomach, as if perhaps we should not be floating here and peering in to this most sacred of rooms uninvited. No sooner do we think this then, with a pop, we disappear, leaving the castle of Hogwarts behind with its very few occupants.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
As soon as Hedwig soared through the window in to the office of the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, only to find it empty, than she gave a frustrated hoot and perched herself on the beautiful oak desk that took up a large portion of the office. Hooting a hello to the beautiful phoenix that called this room home, Hedwig settled down to wait. After all, had her master not told her to deliver this to the headmaster as soon as possible.
And so, as certain events ground in to Motion in the outside world, the faithful snowy owl waited to complete her mission.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Half a dozen figures stood in front of a large Victorian-styled house that stood on a hill overlooking what appeared to be a small town, judging by the twinkling lights and muffled shouts of people who had possibly consumed a bit too much for their own good. Nothing would have been remarkable about these fine gentlemen if it had not been for the fact that no face was visible. Instead, six pairs of eyes peered through slits in six masks, and when a muffled word of command issued from the one that stood slightly in front of the others, six hulking shadows moved silently through the yard to the door.
Once there, it did not remain silent for long. The leader raised a narrow stick of wood, muttered something that would have made no sense to anyone not familiar with the word, and the door to the abode was suddenly wrenched from its hinges. It made a loud boom as it impacted with the opposite wall of the foyer. Shortly afterward, and the figures moved quickly inside. Moments later, a man's head appeared at the banister of the second floor landing, peering down incredulously at the destruction in his home and, with mounting alarm, the unwelcome visitors. He was shortly joined by a woman and a younger girl, both of whom had looks of panic on their faces, although the girl's face showed understanding mixed in with the fear. Before any of the three could do so much as shout for help, three voices rang out. The word they cried might have been "Accio", but Hermione Granger was too shell-shocked to even pay attention.
With these words, the horrified girl and her defenseless parents seemed to fly over the banister and move downward at a sickening speed, slowing down only when they were inches from the ground. Still, the impact was enough to send them each sprawling in undignified heaps at the feet of the now chuckling masked men.
The girl murmured something that might have been "Death Eaters" to her parents, but one of the voices rasped "silencio", and no more sounds came from the doomed family.
One of the figures reached up slowly and removed the mask from its face. The man beneath had platinum-blonde hair, cold grey eyes, and a smile on his face that looked more like a sneer than ever.
"Well, well, well," he sneered. "I am honored to meet you all. Then again, Draco has told me so much about you, Granger, that I feel I already know you intimately. However, I would never sink so low as to know a filthy little Mudblood intimately. My master has sent me here to find out where Potter lives, but I think before I even ask the question, we should have time for a little fun first."
His sneering smile growing larger, Lucius Malfoy raised the narrow stick of wood, which was really his wand, and pointed it directly at the woman who lay cringing in terror. Lying on the floor in front of their attackers, Hermione cringed, suspecting what was to come.
"Finite," Malfoy said silkily.
Remembering this spell was the one to cancel others, Hermione finally understood. Malfoy wanted entertainment, and he wanted it to be very vocal. As if in affirmation, Malfoy raised his wand again, smile broadening, and this time bellowed "Crucio!"
Hermione tried desperately to think of a way out of their situation. Why, oh why had she left her wand upstairs? After the event of Voldemort's return, supposedly being one of the smartest students ever to pass through the doors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and, most importantly, friends with the famous Harry Potter, how could she not have known better? Even as her mother's first agonized shriek filled the air, Hermione found herself on the verge of tears, not only because of the horrible curse her mother was being subjected to, but also because she knew that even had she had her wand with her, she knew of no spells with which to take on one Death Eater, let alone half a dozen.
Vaguely, she realized that her throat was sore and that it was because she was screaming in sorrow and horror, the scream mixing in with the older woman's howls of agony. Someone must have released her from the Silencing Spell as well.
Finally, mercifully, the wand was lifted.
"Now that the screaming sisters have started their concert, perhaps we can get down to business," Lucius Malfoy asked conversationally. "I'll make you a deal, Mudblood! Tell me where Potter lives, and I promise to kill your parents quickly. Refuse, and I may just let Mr. Avery here have his way with you while I subject you to the Cruciatus Curse. So, Mudblood, start talk---"
And then, filling the doorway behind Malfoy and his cronies, appeared a vision that seemed to consist of glowing green eyes, messy black hair, and a funny lightning-shaped scar. But it was no vision that grabbed Malfoy by the back of his robes. It was no vision that spun him around with so much apparent ease that it caused Hermione to gasp.
And it was no vision that said in a completely calm voice "why Mr. Malfoy, I do believe you are looking for me."
The shock on Lucius Malfoy's face was so comical that Hermione wished in some crazed part of her mind that Colin Creevey was near by so that he might take a photograph of the hysterical and horrifying picture. All too soon, however, the older man's look of surprise was replaced by one of complete and utter triumph. Satisfaction laced his voice as he spat out vehemently, "Potter!"
TBC
Consciousness returned after only a few moments. When it did, Harry sat up so fast and with such alertness that it would have made Mad-Eye Moody (the real one or the impostor) proud. Needless to say, Harry himself was rather shocked. That emotion was only topped by the rising tide of panic at the recollection of the vision that had caused his fainting spell in the first place.
His first muddled thought was to risk exposure to the Muggles and fly his Firebolt (the amazing racing broom Sirius had given him in his third year at Hogwarts) to save the family. This idea was quickly quashed when he forced his fear down and ordered himself to look at the situation logically. First of all, he had no idea whether or not what he had seen had taken place during the day or at night. Looking out the window, he was relieved to see the sun barely at the noon position. Second, and more pressing, was the uncertainty as to whether what he had witnessed was a thing of the past or future. Yet, now that he stopped to think about it, there was one slim hope. He remembered the figures in the cloaks had all been bathed in shadows, which normally suggested little light. Since they were standing outside in the middle of the lawn, and as he remembered he thought he had heard drunken singing, he was forced to the conclusion that the attack would happen or, Merlin forbid, had already happened, at night. He was certain that it had not been the present as the sky outside in his vision (from what he could remember) had shown the first feeble light of the new moon. No, rushing off on his trusty broomstick to try and save the day certainly would help no one.
His biggest problem, however, seemed almost insurmountable. He had no idea where in Merlin's creation Hermione Granger lived. He was still certain that his Firebolt would be the most secure and quick means of transportation. However, if he wasn't able to come up with the Grangers' location by nightfall, he might as well abandon his friend to torture and death. In short, failure was not an option.
With his mind made up, Harry sprang to his feet and entered the kitchen in two long strides. A short search of the kitchen provided him what he wanted. It was a Greater London directory. Trying to keep himself calm, Harry thumbed rapidly through the enormous volume.
"G. ,,, GE ,,, GO ,,, GU, damn too far. ,,, GR," Harry muttered to himself.
Scanning quickly down the list, he felt his heart seize up. The name 'Granger' was not as uncommon as he had hoped. There were over forty listings in the Greater London area.
He was about to slam the book shut in a bout of frustration when he froze. It was only a whisper, or perhaps it was the ghost of a voice he had heard before on television, but he was certain a voice had muttered in his ear "trust your feelings."
With some difficulty, Harry was eventually able to calm his mind enough to take another look at the phone book. This time, he was much calmer, taking deep breaths and letting the energy of the Force flow through him again. Once his mind was completely focused on his task, he again looked down at the long list of Granger entries in the phone book.
And suddenly, there it was.
'Granger, Scott & Haylee'
Staring at the entry, he had the fleeting impression of a chair, a short drill, and a large case containing what appeared to be at least a hundred toothbrushes.
And he knew he was right.
After all, Hermione's parents were both dentists. This was it.
He only took the time to memorize the address before closing the book with a snap. Rifling through some more of his aunt's papers, he was pleased to locate an atlas of the area.
The next few moments would have been a blur to anybody watching the young man. After carefully folding the atlas and stuffing it in his pocket, he was off, racing upstairs with only one thought on his mind: packing.
Luckily, he had finished all of his school work earlier in the summer. Being bored and trying to forget the nightmarish end to his fourth year at Hogwarts had been more than enough of a motive for him to go ahead and complete his homework. Therefore, with all of his schoolbooks already packed away in his trunk with his homework, it was only a matter of tossing in the few extra clothes lying around his room that he would not be totally embarrassed to be seen in. Once all of this material, plus all of his birthday gifts, were securely stored in the trunk, Harry paused only long enough to retrieve his beloved Firebolt from the bottom of the trunk and, after a moment's deliberation, also snatched up the Invisibility Cloak that had once belonged to his father. After all, if he was to escape with as little punishment as possible, it would not do to be seen by Muggles if he could help it.
He had one other task to perform before he could leave. Rousing Hedwig from her sleep (Hedwig was not at all slow in hooting her displeasure over this treatment), he wrote two hurried notes.
Dear Professor Dumbledore:
I have reason to believe that Hermione Granger's house will be attacked by Death Eaters in the near future. I have had a vision of such an attack happening at night, and I can not afford to think that what I have seen has already happened. Please send help to her location as soon as you can. I am going myself, and I will do whatever I must to get there, Ministry of Magic or no.
Please help,
Harry
He tied this note to Hedwig's leg and after another hoot of irritation with her young master, she spread her wings and soared out of the window that Harry opened for her.
The second note was much shorter.
Dursleys,
Gone probably for the summer, if I can help it.
Your freakish nephew and/or cousin,
Harry
At last he was ready. Clipping his lightsaber to his belt, he raised his wand without hesitation and pointed it at his trunk. On a whim, he closed his eyes, visualized the beauty of the Force surrounding him, and focused it on the trunk. He imagined the trunk shrinking in size until it was no larger than a wallet before opening his eyes. He was elated to see that the combination of his wand and the Force had indeed allowed him to shrink his trunk, hopefully without alerting the goons at the Ministry. Even if he was not to be so lucky, Harry was beyond caring. Scooping up the trunk and placing it in his pocket, Harry donned the Invisibility Cloak, mounted his Firebolt, and following Hedwig's example, he sped out the open window, soaring away from Privet Drive, the cloak managing to barely cover him and his broom.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
If the Muggle eye could pass through countless Concealment Charms, the commuters that frequently passed through King's Cross Station night have been more than a little surprised to notice a new track squashed in between platforms nine and ten. They might had been even more surprised if they followed these tracks northward, leaving the city of London behind quickly and plunging through increasingly less populous country. If one followed these tracks far enough, one would eventually pass out of England and in to its neighbor to the north, Scotland. And, finally, if persistence paid off and one reached the end of the tracks, one would find oneself in the somewhat quaint village of Hogsmeade. Or, at least, quaint is how the little village would appear to Muggles. However, there was nothing quaint about the cozy all wizarding village.
But let us not dwell on this tiny oasis of humanity in the middle of a deserted moor. Instead, let us continue northward through Hogsmeade not stopping to gape at the sign over a door reading 'The Three Broomsticks'. Let us not wonder too much at the strange hooting noises coming from the building marked simply "Post Office". For none of these shops, interesting as they are, have led us to travel so far from our starting point. Instead, let us walk on up the road, perhaps clutching a cloak rather tightly to ward off the chill of a late August afternoon.
And then, rounding a final curve in the road, we finally see our objective. The view is breathtaking! For what we see, again minus the Concealment Charms that have been so painstakingly enforced over countless centuries to keep Muggles away, is a splendid castle. Its turrets catch the fading afternoon sunlight, perhaps like the teeth of some hopefully long extinct monster. Its broad iron gates look slightly foreboding. Indeed, if it is not for the tiny winking lights that spill from the hundreds of windows in the castle, one might be tempted to flee in the opposite direction on general principle. However, we do not flee. Instead, incredibly as it may seem, we find ourselves rising in to the air and drifting, yes actually drifting, through the crisp afternoon air toward the mammoth structure. In fact, we drift so near to the edifice that we can catch the occasional glimpse through the windows in to the lighted interior.
We see a large hall, its ceiling showing a an exact replica of the outside conditions. Below, we see the vague outlines of five tables. Each of these tables seems to have a banner hanging over it. One such banner might contain a lion in golds and reds. Another might be a badger.
But before we can see more, we rise higher and circle around to the northeast corner of the castle, where it appears we have reached our final destination.
The room we are now viewing is one of the strangest rooms we have probably ever seen. Strange, whirring contraptions seem to litter every surface that is not covered in books or assorted papers. Many pictures seem to cover the walls, most of them depicting distinguished looking older men and women, all of whom seemed to have a strangely wise or unsettling cunning look about them.
We have barely enough time to realize the office is devoid of any life, save for a magnificent golden-red bird that perches contentedly on a stand in the corner of the office, when we are interrupted from our perusal by a hooting noise getting ever louder. Eventually, we are somewhat surprised to see a snowy white owl zoom right past us and in to the open window of the office. And seeing the arrival of this bird at nearly sundown on this day in early August, we start to get an uneasy feeling in our stomach, as if perhaps we should not be floating here and peering in to this most sacred of rooms uninvited. No sooner do we think this then, with a pop, we disappear, leaving the castle of Hogwarts behind with its very few occupants.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
As soon as Hedwig soared through the window in to the office of the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, only to find it empty, than she gave a frustrated hoot and perched herself on the beautiful oak desk that took up a large portion of the office. Hooting a hello to the beautiful phoenix that called this room home, Hedwig settled down to wait. After all, had her master not told her to deliver this to the headmaster as soon as possible.
And so, as certain events ground in to Motion in the outside world, the faithful snowy owl waited to complete her mission.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Half a dozen figures stood in front of a large Victorian-styled house that stood on a hill overlooking what appeared to be a small town, judging by the twinkling lights and muffled shouts of people who had possibly consumed a bit too much for their own good. Nothing would have been remarkable about these fine gentlemen if it had not been for the fact that no face was visible. Instead, six pairs of eyes peered through slits in six masks, and when a muffled word of command issued from the one that stood slightly in front of the others, six hulking shadows moved silently through the yard to the door.
Once there, it did not remain silent for long. The leader raised a narrow stick of wood, muttered something that would have made no sense to anyone not familiar with the word, and the door to the abode was suddenly wrenched from its hinges. It made a loud boom as it impacted with the opposite wall of the foyer. Shortly afterward, and the figures moved quickly inside. Moments later, a man's head appeared at the banister of the second floor landing, peering down incredulously at the destruction in his home and, with mounting alarm, the unwelcome visitors. He was shortly joined by a woman and a younger girl, both of whom had looks of panic on their faces, although the girl's face showed understanding mixed in with the fear. Before any of the three could do so much as shout for help, three voices rang out. The word they cried might have been "Accio", but Hermione Granger was too shell-shocked to even pay attention.
With these words, the horrified girl and her defenseless parents seemed to fly over the banister and move downward at a sickening speed, slowing down only when they were inches from the ground. Still, the impact was enough to send them each sprawling in undignified heaps at the feet of the now chuckling masked men.
The girl murmured something that might have been "Death Eaters" to her parents, but one of the voices rasped "silencio", and no more sounds came from the doomed family.
One of the figures reached up slowly and removed the mask from its face. The man beneath had platinum-blonde hair, cold grey eyes, and a smile on his face that looked more like a sneer than ever.
"Well, well, well," he sneered. "I am honored to meet you all. Then again, Draco has told me so much about you, Granger, that I feel I already know you intimately. However, I would never sink so low as to know a filthy little Mudblood intimately. My master has sent me here to find out where Potter lives, but I think before I even ask the question, we should have time for a little fun first."
His sneering smile growing larger, Lucius Malfoy raised the narrow stick of wood, which was really his wand, and pointed it directly at the woman who lay cringing in terror. Lying on the floor in front of their attackers, Hermione cringed, suspecting what was to come.
"Finite," Malfoy said silkily.
Remembering this spell was the one to cancel others, Hermione finally understood. Malfoy wanted entertainment, and he wanted it to be very vocal. As if in affirmation, Malfoy raised his wand again, smile broadening, and this time bellowed "Crucio!"
Hermione tried desperately to think of a way out of their situation. Why, oh why had she left her wand upstairs? After the event of Voldemort's return, supposedly being one of the smartest students ever to pass through the doors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and, most importantly, friends with the famous Harry Potter, how could she not have known better? Even as her mother's first agonized shriek filled the air, Hermione found herself on the verge of tears, not only because of the horrible curse her mother was being subjected to, but also because she knew that even had she had her wand with her, she knew of no spells with which to take on one Death Eater, let alone half a dozen.
Vaguely, she realized that her throat was sore and that it was because she was screaming in sorrow and horror, the scream mixing in with the older woman's howls of agony. Someone must have released her from the Silencing Spell as well.
Finally, mercifully, the wand was lifted.
"Now that the screaming sisters have started their concert, perhaps we can get down to business," Lucius Malfoy asked conversationally. "I'll make you a deal, Mudblood! Tell me where Potter lives, and I promise to kill your parents quickly. Refuse, and I may just let Mr. Avery here have his way with you while I subject you to the Cruciatus Curse. So, Mudblood, start talk---"
And then, filling the doorway behind Malfoy and his cronies, appeared a vision that seemed to consist of glowing green eyes, messy black hair, and a funny lightning-shaped scar. But it was no vision that grabbed Malfoy by the back of his robes. It was no vision that spun him around with so much apparent ease that it caused Hermione to gasp.
And it was no vision that said in a completely calm voice "why Mr. Malfoy, I do believe you are looking for me."
The shock on Lucius Malfoy's face was so comical that Hermione wished in some crazed part of her mind that Colin Creevey was near by so that he might take a photograph of the hysterical and horrifying picture. All too soon, however, the older man's look of surprise was replaced by one of complete and utter triumph. Satisfaction laced his voice as he spat out vehemently, "Potter!"
TBC