Potter47 Part Two
Crossing the Rubicon "Be assured, the wicked will not go unpunished,
but those who are righteous will escape."
Proverbs 11.21 Chapter Sixteen
Thumbing a Ride
"Where'd the light come from?" Luna wondered aloud, sitting up to see a small fire in the middle of the cell.
"Miss Granger, in her infinite wisdom," drawled Snape sarcastically, "had until now forgotten that she had a box of matches in her pocket. Convenient, isn't it?"
"I had other things on my mind," Hermione defended.
"Yes, like annoying the hell out of me," Snape muttered.
Feeling the warmth of the flames, Luna suddenly realised how very cold she was. She huddled closer to the flames, next to Ronald. Hermione sat cross-legged opposite her, next to Snape, who was farther away from the flames than any of the others. Perhaps he doesn't want to catch his nightshirt on fire. It really wouldn't show very much, Luna thought, it's so black. Ashes would blend right in.
"You sure you're OK?" Ronald asked, not looking at Luna. She realised she hadn't answered him in the first place.
"I'm fine," she said. "Just drifted off."
"Right."
Silence. Hermione and Snape's brows were furrowed, contemplating the situation. Ronald kept glancing at Luna out of the corner of his eye, not really convinced she was completely OK. And Luna stared at the small flame, wondering.
Flap. Flap.
"There it was again!" exclaimed Hermione, jumping up and very nearly catching herself on the flames.
"There what was again?" Ronald said.
"That flapping noise! I heard it before—"
"Shush," said Snape harshly, moving so that his ear was pressed against the door.
Oh, thought Luna. There's a door. I hadn't noticed. The door was completely solid, no barred-window, no doorknob, no hinges. If not for the slight difference in colour, it would appear to be just more of the wall.
"It's gone," said Snape, pulling his ear away again.
"What could that be?" Hermione sounded distraught that she couldn't figure something out.
"I dunno," said Ronald, shrugging. "I didn't even hear anything."
"How could you not hear it?" said Hermione, incredulous. "It sounded like…a thestral flapping its wings right outside the door…"
"Perhaps he's deaf…?" suggested Snape.
"I'm not deaf," defended Ronald. "I just didn't hear—"
"Oh, a wonderful defence, that is."
"Will you please just shut up?" exclaimed Hermione suddenly. "Both of you?"
"If we ever get back to class, you should know that Gryffindor will begin with a negative sum of points," said Snape, glaring.
Silence.
"Could it have been a thestral?"
All heads turned to Luna, who was looking at the door thoughtfully.
"What?"
"I said, could it have been a thestral?" repeated Luna. "You said it as if you had dismissed the thought. What's to say it isn't?"
Silence.
"Well, it could have been a thestral, I suppose," said Hermione begrudgingly. "But there's no reason to think so any more than anything else that has wings."
"Well, that rules out Snorkacks," said Ronald, to lighten the mood. Hermione looked at him strangely. "What?" he said. "Snorkacks don't have wings."
"You say that as if there are Snorkacks," said Hermione, sounding hurt.
"What—no, I was just—come on Hermione, it was supposed to be a joke—"
"It doesn't rule out Snorkacks," corrected Luna. "Crumple-Horned Snorkacks don't have wings, but other kinds do—"
"Oh, now there are other kinds of—" said Hermione.
"Silence," said Snape harshly, leaning back against the door. He put a finger to his lips and Hermione fell silent.
"…can' 'magine why we gots to do it…"
"'Cause da's te Dark Lor's said so. In't dat 'nuff fer you?"
"Bu' why us? Couldn'a Malfy-boy a dun it?"
Footsteps neared the cell door as the voices grew louder. Snape lay himself down on the floor as if he was sleeping and gestured for the others to do the same.
"Malfoy's too busy dees days fer stuffs like dis. We gots ter do it an' dat's dat. An' iffy ever hears you callin' 'im dat…I don' like yer chances, lit'l bro."
"Bu' I taught dis was 'portent? Whys we doin' it den?"
Hermione quickly smothered the small flame in the middle of the room and the darkness returned.
"'Cause we's 'portent, stupid. Dark Lor's likes us 'specially he does."
The footsteps stopped suddenly, as did the voices. They were just outside the door now and Luna could hear something turn within the door as if a complex lock was being undone. Seeing a beam of light widening across the far wall, Luna snapped her eyes shut.
"They have been delivered, milord."
"They?" replied the Dark Lord, tapping his spidery fingers on the arm of his dark throne. "I do wish you'd learn to be more specific, Rookwood. There are so many people that are being delivered to me I begin to lose count…"
"The Lovegoods," said Rookwood.
"Oh yes, this is sure to be interesting…" said the Dark Lord, grinning. "They're supposed to be barmy, you know. The two parents and the girl, yes?"
Rookwood nodded. "And the girl's boyfriend."
"Boyfriend? Why would you bring her boyfriend?" the Dark Lord asked.
Rookwood grinned, knowing that his master would be pleased. "Because he is a Weasley."
"A Weasley?" The Dark Lord smirked. "Yes, this is bound to be very interesting."
"Here they are now," said Rookwood, noting the opening of the chamber door.
"Are we there yet?" asked a dark-haired man beseechingly. "I didn't even get to put on my comfy slippers! MY FEET HURT!"
"Shut up, you loony!" said the Death Eater dragging the man through the door, gripping him by the arm.
"Why?" asked the man—London Lovegood, Voldemort supposed. "It's not as though you led us down these dark and scary corridors so that we could be interviewed by some megaloman—"
"Please be quiet, London," said the woman—Cynthia Lovegood—pleadingly.
"Yes, please do," said Voldemort, smirking.
London looked up at him quizzically as the Death Eater physically tossed London at Voldemort's feet. Cynthia was simply let go of by her Death Eater.
Voldemort looked at them shrewdly. "You said there were going to be four of them," he said to Rookwood. "Where are the other two?"
"They are…" Rookwood looked at the empty doorway. "I'm sure they'll be here in a moment."
"They better be," said Voldemort threateningly. He turned to the Lovegoods. "So how are we today?"
"Wakey wakey," said a voice above Luna's head. She felt a finger on her cheek. "You know," said the voice, "she a pretty one. Da eyes coul' do wit a bit o' shrinkin', but…"
Luna opened her right eye, the one nearest to the floor, to see Ronald gritting his teeth, struggling to keep his eyes closed. She snapped it shut again.
"Wake up, lit'l girl," said the voice, patting her face. "Wake up er I'll make ya wake up." Luna felt a wand poke at her temple, and her eyes snapped open involuntarily.
"There ya are!" said the man, smiling horribly, just in front of her face now. "Now which one a dees is yer boyfriend?" He gestured at the three others, lying on the floor.
"Oh come on lit'l bro," said the other man. "Which one do ya think?"
"Well it coulda been da olda one—hangon!" He moved over to beside Snape. "Dis one looks familia!"
"Ya eyes playin' tricks on ya, lit'l bro," said the older-looking Death Eater. "Da's jus'..." The man took a step back and poked his head out the open cell door. "...some pafessor er somtin."
"A pafessor?" said the other man, leaving Luna momentarily unguarded as he stepped over Hermione to stand next to Snape. The man shook his head. "He's too youn' to o' been one a mine...an' look!"
"Wat?"
"Dat nose! I know I seen dat conk b'fore!"
"Whatchoo mean?" said the older one, walking over to join his brother in inspecting Snape's face. For a moment, Luna was sure they were going to wake him up, before she remembered he wasn't asleep in the first place.
"It's all hooked an' stuffs! Bu' where'd I see't b'fore?"
"Does look kinda f'milia," said the older one, quirking his head as if a new angle would help him identify Snape.
Apparently, it did.
"Da's Sev'rus Snape, dat is!" he shouted, pointing as if he needed to specify who he meant.
"Snape? I know dat name..."
"Idiot! He's da one dat nearly dun us in!"
"Yer righ'! I fergot."
"You'd ferget yer own name if a dint remind you erreyday," said the other, peering closely at Snape's face. "D'you tink da Dark Lord'd mind if we..."
Snape's brow involuntarily twitched, but the Death Eater didn't seem to notice. Luna, who alone of the four had her eyes open, saw his hand move suddenly, silently.
"I don't tink we should," said the younger regretfully. "Migh' ge' us in trouble."
"S'pose so," said the elder in the same tone. "We'd be'er be goin' den."
"Won't you stay?" drawled Snape, drawing the Death Eater's wand upon its owner, who jumped back suddenly.
"How'd you get dat?" he exclaimed, arms raising automatically in a sign of surrender.
Snape ignored him, turning his attention towards the younger Death Eater, who still had a wand. The latter was not a very quick draw, however, and Snape was able to disarm him before he could do anything.
"We wasn't really goin' da kill ya!" said the older one in a panicked voice.
"Oh, no of course not," said Snape, backing the two into a wall, taking no care to make sure neither stepped on Ronald while doing so. "You were merely wondering if the Dark Lord would mind you giving me a haircut."
"Right! Tha's exa'ly right!" said the same Death Eater.
Snape snorted contemptuously. He smirked. "Nighty night," he said, before muttering "Stupefy!"
He walked over to both unconscious forms and tapped them over the head with the wand, muttering something Luna could not hear.
"Disillusionment Charm?" inquired Hermione, now sitting upright, making her way to her feet.
"Yes," said Snape, tapping the other Death Eater. "We'll have to hurry, as there's no telling how long it will last with this wand." He turned round. "You can get up Weasley," he said. "The bogey men are gone now."
"My feet are killing me, that's how we are today," said London, irritated. An idea seemed to spark within him. He leaned towards Voldemort and whispered, "Do you have any comfy slippers I could borrow?"
Voldemort blinked his scarlet eyes in a disbelieving fashion. He gestured for Rookwood to come closer. "I do believe I must have heard wrong..." he hissed to his servant, who shook his head regretfully.
"No?" said London. "Dagnabit!" A confuzzled look came over his face. "Did I just say dagnabit? I hate that word—I must be feeling drowsy." He nodded sagely, confident.
"Can somebody shut him up?" Voldemort said exasperatedly.
"Shut him up!" Rookwood shouted at Cynthia, pointing at London.
"Please be quiet, London," said Cynthia quietly.
Silence.
"What was that?" said Voldemort suddenly, turning round in his dark throne. He peered into the darkness of the chamber, wondering what he had heard.
"What was what?" asked London conversationally.
"That voice—" began Voldemort, before turning sharply to point at Cynthia. "I thought you told him to shut up!"
"Please, be quiet, London," begged Cynthia.
Silence.
"So," began the Dark Lord, settling back down in his throne, "now that our interruptions are—hopefully—over with, we may begin with—"
"You know," said London, "that's not the correct use of 'hopefully'. It's not supposed to mean 'it is to be hoped', but 'with hope.' It's a rather common error, though—"
"THAT'S IT!" shouted Voldemort, standing up on his throne's dais and drawing his wand. "Crucio!"
"No!" shouted Cynthia, moving to move in front of her husband. She didn't get a chance, however, as the curse suddenly was lifted. London crumpled on the ground, and she dropped to his side.
"What was that?" Voldemort said once again, looking round in confusion. A sudden look of enlightenment encompassed his features. "Of course..." he whispered, disappearing with a crack!
Snape, as he held the wand, led the way out of the cell, with Hermione close behind. Neither showed any sign of surprise when they bore witness to the corridor. Luna, however, couldn't help but gasp.
The corridor's walls were stone, corroded and ancient-looking. Luna felt as if she was in a vast cave, apart from the cell doors that appeared every few feet. For a moment she was confused by the fact that there were large windows into each cell, but then she realised that they were one-way openings. At the end of the corridor, however, was what had made Luna gasp.
A Dementor hovered there, turning suddenly towards the group. If it had eyes, Luna felt confident that they would have been blazing as the spectre charged down the corridor.
They were in Azkaban.
"I suggest we run," said Snape, and Ronald tugged on Luna's shoulder to get he to move in the opposite direction.
"We are gathered here today..." began a voice in Luna's head. She shook herself to clear it, and began running with the others.
As they ran, Luna caught glimpses of the passing cells. Most of the prisoners were pressing their heads against the doors, trying to hear what was going on. And most of the prisoners were people Luna knew, or at least knew of.
In one cell was Neville Longbottom, looking frightened and confused at the sudden racket. Luna wondered why he was there; an old woman beside him seemed to be his grandmother.
"What has Voldemort done?" said Hermione disbelievingly, also looking in the cells as she ran.
In another cell were the Corner brothers, and Luna almost felt a bit of happiness for a second before a thought hit her: Who hadn't been taken captive?
Luna's thoughts were interrupted, however, when her face collided with Ronald's back.
"What is that?" said Ronald, sounding terrified.
Rubbing her nose, she looked round him to see why they had stopped. She didn't see anything. Neither, apparently, did Hermione.
"What is what?" said Hermione, trying to pull Snape along, who had stopped dead in his tracks, causing the collision. "Why are we stopping!"
"That, Miss Granger," said Snape apprehensively, "is a thestral."
The skeletal beast was thundering down the corridor, wings outstretched, touching the walls—not that Luna could see it.
"Bloody hell," said Ronald. "I can see thestrals?"
"Apparently," said Luna. "But I can't."
"Damn it," muttered Snape, looking backwards towards the Dementor. "This is one hell of a predicament."
"I should say so," said Hermione breathlessly. "Again, what has Voldemort done?"
"Something bad," said Luna.
Snape, apparently deciding against the spectral horse, turned round and began running at the Dementor, wand raised.
"Expecto Patronum!" he shouted, and Luna had to wonder what memory he was recalling, because it was apparently a very happy one.
"Your Patronus is a cat?" Hermione said disbelievingly as they passed the spectre, a great silver feline bowling the Dementor to one side of the corridor.
"It is a cougar," defended Snape. "At least it is not a lion."
"No, that would be dreadfully embarrassing, wouldn't it Severus?" said a high-pitched voice. The group turned the sharp corner to face the face that they least wanted to face, and once again each banged into the person in front of them.
"Let's go for a ride, eh?" said Lord Voldemort, smirking. He tossed something—it looked like a ball—to Snape, who caught it reflexively against his intentions, and as Hermione was pressed against his back, Ron against hers, and Luna against Ron's, the whole group disappeared into a swirl of colour and sound.
Review.
I apologise profusely for the delays between the chapters. This last one would have gone up about a week ago, if not for the fact that the electricity to only room in my house with an internet connection had been turned off. I promise, however, that the next chapter will be up in the normal (it's not really normal anymore, is it?) five days time, pending electrical disaster.
Review.
Help! "The object of persecution is persecution.
The object of torture is torture. The object of power is power."
George Orwell Coming Soon