Chapter 4: A Bloody Mess

A week ago, if anyone had told Hermione she would be strolling through a dark cave with Harry Potter and a vampire, she would have told them they were mad. Even now, as she watched Harry and Laszlo walking in front of her, she thought she might be dreaming. She was tempted to pinch herself awake, but refrained; it was an excellent dream.

It seemed like they had been walking for days. They had skirted a massive underground lake, wallowed through a muddy trench, squeezed through a tight gap which turned out to be the home of a large vampire-bat family. Luckily Laszlo talked them out of fussing and they went back to sleep.

Now, as Hermione waited for the next obstacle, she looked up and saw a gleam of light filtering in through a crack in the cave ceiling. Harry and Laszlo were already staring up it curiously.

Hermione's eyes widened as a sleek head pushed its way through the gap. Harry hissed and pulled Laszlo away as a snake fell onto the cave ground.

"It's an African Adder. Stay away from it—its poison is deadly," said Laszlo loudly.

"I know what it is," snarled Harry, pulling his wand out.

As if on cue, there was a loud rustling sound and another head popped out of the hole. Suddenly, as if the floodgates had broken, a waterfall of snakes began pouring from the hole.

"Run!" shouted Harry.

It took a long second for Hermione to realize she was on the wrong side of the snakes. She looked fearfully across at Harry.

Laszlo snarled and, with a swish of his cloak, vanished into the darkness. Hermione felt a hand on her shoulder and spun around in fright. She saw Laszlo's grave face staring back at her.

"Come on," he said as he knelt down, putting his right arm around Hermione's back and his left behind her knees. With a swift move he jerked Hermione off her feet and sprinted across the river of snakes.

Hermione screamed as she watched a snake slither up Harry's unmoving leg. His face suddenly lit up and transformed into a stone. With a hiss, Harry jumped into the air and spun around. His cloak billowed as his body turned sideways and a red light erupted from the openings in Harry's shirt and pants. He landed on one knee and a fist, and a stream of black dust fell from his robe.

Harry jumped to his feet and ran down the cave path, followed closely by Laszlo and Hermione. It quickly became apparent that Laszlo was a much faster runner. Not thirty seconds later, Harry was two turns behind them as Laszlo bolted out of the end of the cave.

"Come on," said Laszlo, placing Hermione gently on the ground. "We need to reach a safe-haven."

"But Harry..." sputtered Hermione, looking back into the darkness of the cave.

"He'll be fine!" growled Laszlo. "Keep running. I'll help Harry deal with the snakes."

Hermione hesitated, then sprinted down the path. She was out of the trees now and the sun was shining brightly ahead of her. And then, after she rounded the corner, she skidded to a stop and gasped. Ahead of her was a castle, no, a fortress, at least a hundred stories tall and extending sideways as far as Hermione could see. It was black – pure black – and an ancient stone fence surrounded it. At the very front, with two irritated looking gargoyles on either side, stood a marble gate with a sentence inscribed in the archway over the top of it. It read, "From dirt we begin; from this fire we live." It was signed crudely by Vladimir Rostov.

There was a yelp behind Hermione and she spun to see Harry limping around the bend, leaning on Laszlo who was covered from head to toe in blood. Hermione ran to Harry's side and grabbed his free arm.

"What happened?" she hissed.

Laszlo smirked and looked down at Hermione. "Harry performed the Cutting Curse and the Whirlwind Charm at the same time. It was centered around him so he wasn't harmed, just a bit tired. I, and the snakes, got the full blow. He's a fricking brilliant idiot."

A wave of relief washed over Hermione. "Will you be alright?" she asked.

"I'm a vampire—I can't die. No, I'll just be in pain for a few hours," said Laszlo.

"Oh no!" shouted Hermione as she glanced at Laszlo's leg. "You've been bitten!"

Laszlo looked down at his leg. He stared at it for a moment, then turned his head up to look at Hermione. "Now that's unfortunate," he said nonchalantly.

"Unfortunate? You need to find a healer soon," said Hermione urgently.

"I'll be fine," said Laszlo calmly. "I'm a vampire—I can't die. The blood, along with the poison, will eventually filter out of my body and I'll be as good as new. It'll be gone in two nights."

"So that's why..." muttered Hermione.

"Why I rescued you?" asked Laszlo.

"Yes. I thought you were being brave and heroic," said Hermione.

"Laszlo the Brave," said Laszlo, grinning. "I like it."

"Not a bloody chance," coughed Harry. "Now put me down so I can see the school."

Hermione and Laszlo looked at each other. Laszlo dropped Harry's arm and he slumped to the ground in a puff of dust.

"Well forgive me for carrying you all the way," said Laszlo. "Next time I might just leave you there to bath in the lake of blood.

"Lay off, Laszlo," said Harry. "Thanks for your help."

"Apology accepted," said Laszlo, sniffing. "You owe me."

"I don't owe you a thing," said Harry. "What? Did you save me from that pool of blood?"

"Well now you don't have to smell bad for a week," offered Laszlo.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Alright, the next time you're laying in a pool of blood I'll carry you out. Happy?"

"Terribly," said Laszlo, grinning.

Hermione huffed and turned on her heel, walking towards the front gate. "Boys," she muttered.

For the first time, Hermione noticed a group of people standing near the fence. They were scattered in a line along it. Some had their wands out, sending powerful hexes and curses at the fence, while others were standing back, observing silently.

A woman's voice interrupted her thoughts. "May I help you, dear?"

"Yes," said Hermione, looking up. "I'm here to register for school."

The woman chuckled. "Of course you are. Your name?"

"Hermione Granger," said Hermione.

"You're all set," said the woman, jotting Hermione's name down on a list and placing it onto a stack of papers.

"Nothing to sign?" asked Hermione.

"No, dear. You just have to pass the test."

The test, thought Hermione. I had almost forgotten.

"Thank you," said Hermione, turning away. "Good day."

She walked a ways down the fence, studying the intricate patterns and wondering at the complex runes cut into the bars. Harry was right; the fence didn't seem powerful—in fact it appeared quite old and weak. But, Hermione knew, that meant Harry was also right about the ancient magic lurking about it. She would have to be careful.

The sound of feet pounding against dirt alerted Hermione to Harry and Laszlo running up beside her. They stopped a few feet before her and turned to look at the fence.

"Well?" asked Harry. "What do you think?"

"It's beautiful," said Hermione. "It's beautiful and scary."

"And very powerful," said Laszlo, wide-eyed. "I-I can't even sense its power. I just feel it; its all over me, binding me and holding me back. This is... phenomenal."

Harry walked forward and ran his hand over one of the vertical bars. He traced the engraved runes with his finger and stared calmly into the air.

"I don't know how we'll get past it," said Laszlo quietly. "Do you have any ideas?"

Hermione shook her head. "Hexes won't work—someone back there tried most of the useful ones. Maybe it's something subtle—something simple, easy."

"I doubt it," said Laszlo. "This is the most prestigious wizarding school in the world. Well... except for Australia and Britain, who think their schools are the best. They're all fools."

"I'm British, you know," said Hermione defensively.

"And you're not pompous or snooty," said Laszlo. "Stunning."

"We're not all that way. There are—"

"Forget it. We need to get past this gate," said Laszlo, gesturing to the daunting gate in front of them. "Let me try Legilimency."

Laszlo put his two index fingers up to his temples and shut his eyes, lowering his head towards the fence. He stood for a moment, then breathed out and shook his head.

"Not a chance. This thing's impenetrable," he informed them.

"Let me try," said Hermione, stepping forward.

For the first time all day, Hermione pulled out her wand. She did not like to use magic unless it was necessary. This situation called for it.

She bit her lip thoughtfully. It couldn't be a forceful spell, she reasoned, or the fence would have been destroyed by now. The fence did not have a mind—Laszlo had proved that—so it couldn't be a mental hex. That left time-manipulating spells, conjuration spells, self modification spells and raw magic.

"Impedimenta!" shouted Hermione.

The feeling of magic rushing through her body awakened her soul. It sent a wave of energy shooting through her veins, in her arms and in her legs and all through her body.

The spell collided with the gate and dissipated.

Since Hermione was neither an Metamorphmagus nor an Animagus nor skilled in conjuration, she walked up to the fence to try sending her magic into it—her own raw magic. She grasped one of the bars and closed her eyes. With a push of willpower, she urged her magic into the fence. It spread out slowly from somewhere deep in her soul and seeped through her skin. She stood, calm and collected, waiting for it to touch the bar, but it never did. Something was pushing it away.

Hermione sighed and walked back to Laszlo. "I don't know. We'll have to think of something else. And what in Merlin's name is Harry doing?"

Still standing along the fence, Harry was running his hands up and down the bars, muttering to himself. He had been standing there the past fifteen minutes, humming under his breath, stroking the bars.

"Harry," said Hermione quietly as she walked beside him. "Are you feeling well?"

"Fine," said Harry dully, his right hand moving in a quick circle as it passed over a rune.

"And why are you touching the fence?"

"It's interesting," said Harry.

"Yes, I have always found rocks interesting," sneered Laszlo, who had silently appeared between them. "Especially when they are sitting on the ground doing absolutely nothing."

"Interesting," whispered Harry. "Very interesting."

Laszlo rolled his eyes. "He's gone loony. Let's go get a bite to eat; I'm starved," he said, turning from Harry.

Hermione bit her lip again. "I suppose he'll be fine here. This is odd, very odd."

"And I'm hungry, very hungry. There's a restaurant over by the gate. Come on," said Laszlo.

Hermione followed Laszlo down the path by the fence, ducking once to avoid a badly aimed hex, and into a small log cabin across the path. It was warm and welcoming inside, even though there were only a few occupants. A short, pudgy woman with rosy cheeks greeted them.

"Miss Granger, Mister Barkzay, pleased to meet you," she bowed gracefully then bounced back up. "I have a table ready. Follow me."

Hermione and Laszlo shared a confused glance, then followed the woman around the counter to a small table in the corner of the dining room. They sat down at the candlelit table and glanced around the room.

It was small and made entirely of wood. The floor was sanded and finished, and the wall was made of logs. In the center was a large buffet with hundreds of drawers and a glass canopy covering it.

"May I get you something to drink?" asked the mysterious woman.

"I'll have a water, please," said Hermione.

"Wolves Blood, thank you," said Laszlo.

With a sick feeling Hermione remembered that she was eating with a vampire. She reprimanded herself for not foreseeing it.

"Most certainly!" said the woman lightly before bounding out of the room.

Laszlo began surveying the room again, but Hermione watched his face and eyes, trying to figure out what he was thinking. He repeatedly glanced at the buffet in the center of the room and at the ceiling above it. It was a dark square in the center of the ceiling, most likely a support beam covered in shadows. Nevertheless, Laszlo was quite interested in it.

It seemed like an hour before the woman returned with their drinks. She slid them across the table and pulled a small notebook from her pocket.

"Have you decided what to eat yet?" asked the woman joyfully.

"You haven't given us a menu," said Hermione.

"Of course not, dear," said the woman, staring blankly back at Hermione. Her smile was becoming annoying.

"Then how will we order?" asked Hermione.

"What do you mean?" said the irritatingly jolly woman.

"I mean—how do we know what we can order if we don't have a menu?"

The woman cocked her head to slightly the side. "I don't understand."

Laszlo spoke before Hermione could respond. "I'll have a chicken—raw, please."

"And you, Miss Granger?" asked the woman after jotting down Laszlo's request.

"Toast," said Hermione exasperatedly. "Just toast."

"Would you like butter or jam?"

"Neither!" said Hermione. "Just toast. Just two pieces of dry, crisp toast with nothing on them. Is it that hard to understand?"

"No need to get angry, now," said the diabolically happy woman. "I'll be back in a jiffy!"

After the woman bounced out of the room, Hermione threw her hands into the air. "What?" asked Hermione. "Did I say something difficult to understand? What's so hard about "You haven't given us a menu?""

But Laszlo was not paying attention. His gaze was once again resting on the dark square above the buffet.

Hermione leaned forward onto the table and lay her head on her hands, praying desperately that not everyone in the school would be so nefariously giddy.

They left the restaurant a couple hours later, both full and ready to tackle the fence once again. But as they approached the portion of the fence where Harry was, Hermione realized, with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, that Harry was nowhere to be found.

She shared a look with Laszlo, then turned around and began running along the fence. It was long and straight, longer than Hermione had first estimated. She rounded the corner and stared down the fence. It was hard to see any distance in the dim moonlight, but she could clearly see the reflection of water past the school, with no trace of Harry in its midst.

Hermione raced back to the path, where she found Laszlo pacing.

"Anything?" asked Hermione hopefully.

"No," said Laszlo. "He must have walked back to the cave."

"Why?" asked Hermione. "He's not that stupid."

Laszlo glared at her, then took off down the path. They sprinted around the bend. As Hermione saw the cave opening, she looked at the ground and gagged, falling onto her knees. On the ground in front of the cave was a pool of blood, at least ten feet around, filled with shreds of black and yellow skin and pieces of eyes and teeth. It's rampant stench wafted into Hermione's nose, causing her to fall forward, nearly keeling over. She was laying in the sand when she realized she was laying in a streak of blood—a streak of Laszlo's blood.

"I'm going to throw up," said Hermione dizzily, scrambling to her feet.

"He's in there," said Laszlo.

"What?" asked Hermione, steadying herself. "How do you know?

"Because he was writing on the wall..."

"Writing?" asked Hermione.

A sick feeling filled Hermione. And the feeling was not from the blood, but from the disgusted look on Laszlo's face as he squinted into the darkness of the cave. He shook his head and met Hermione's gaze.

"He wrote it in his blood," Laszlo said gravely.

Hermione did not need another telling. She ran at full speed around the outside of the pool on the ground and leaped onto the dry cave ground. It took her only a second to see the neat cursive on the wall that distinctly read, "Riddle."

Time stopped. In a rush, the howling wind outside the cave deadened and the dripping sound in the cave ceased. In a distant place, far away and hidden under darkness and evil, Hermione heard a maniacal laugh pierce the night, sending ice down her veins.

Voldemort, no matter how far they traveled, no matter how well they hid, always found his enemies. She had thought it impossible this time, but he had proved her wrong again. It was both sick and daunting how accomplished a wizard he was. But there was still a hope, like a candle covered gently from the rain, that Harry would come through and defeat him.

A great gust of wind had nearly doused it.

It was easy to see the trail of blood leading into the darkness. Hermione ran down it, using her nose as a guide. Laszlo appeared a moment later with a swish and the sound of rushing air, just as he always did, and sprinted alongside her.

They were both speechless. Then, as they rounded a familiar corner, they saw a great light explode from the farthest wall. Laszlo covered his eyes, but Hermione fought back the tears and stared ahead.

There, against the blinding light, was a figure, tall and lanky with thin arms and legs and long shaggy hair, standing with its arms outstretched and its feet planted far apart above a mass on the ground. It pranced around, hopping up and down, chuckling madly. Then it turned its head and saw Hermione. With a shrill laugh it spun around, rising slowly into the air. And then, along with the light, it vanished.

All was silent, but Hermione's head was filled with a steady pounding. She felt like she had been hanging upside down for an hour, the blood pumping through her head and her heart beating into her ribs.

The mass on the floor was Harry.

Hermione slid onto the ground beside him and laid her hand on his crumpled form. He was curled into a ball, holding tightly onto his knees, with his head lolled off to the side and his mouth hanging open slightly. His breath was pushing the stream of blood that dribbled slowly from his mouth.

"No," groaned Hermione. "We've got to get him to a healer."

"Allow me," said Laszlo, who bent down and placed his wand on Harry's body.

There was a brief pulse of magic before Laszlo gathered Harry in his arms and stood up.

"Go back to the gate and tell the clerk what happened. I'll meet you tomorrow morning. And take this," he produced a small bag from within the folds of his robes and tossed it to Hermione. "That's Harry's tent. Set it up near one of the corners, but away from the trees."

Hermione nodded, staring downcast at the puddle of blood where Harry's head used to lay and not wondering in the least how Laszlo obtained Harry's tent. She barely noticed Laszlo swirl his cloak and disappear in a rush of wind.

The night passed nearly as fast as a drowsy turtle strolling across an interstate. Hermione had walked back to the school gates with her mind as dull and heavy as a boulder. She had set up the tent without passion, slowly and methodically, without paying much attention to her surroundings. Once, she thought someone had called her name, but continued her grieving as if nothing had happened. And when she had finally crawled into bed, she found that it was impossible to sleep. All night long she stared at the magically expanded tent ceiling, wondering how Harry was doing and where Laszlo had taken him.

Finally, at three o' clock in the morning, after much annoyed deliberation, she rolled irritably out of bed to write a letter home. It took her twenty minutes to get the paper from Harry's trunk, which he had left in the tent on the dining room table, and find his ink and quill. She had no motivation to move any quicker.

She hunched over a small wooden desk near her bed and twirled the eagle's feather in her hand. Of all the thousand events to describe, she couldn't decide where to start.

The beginning, she chose, would suffice.

Dear Ron,

Are you feeling better? Hopefully you will recover soon. Pray that Harry does, too.

Of course you will be wondering why I say that. Well, while you were sleeping, I followed him out of the school and up the path to Hogsmeade. He was mumbling to himself the whole way up, and when he finally stopped, he turned around and asked me if I felt the magic in the air. It was bizarre. Then he did the most odd thing, and told me about this school he wants to attend. He had forbidden me to tell the exact location, but I can tell you that it is the most barbaric place of which I have ever heard. The students—the professors—are all power hungry monsters! Anyways, we were walking down to the Shrieking Shack when he told me he was going to the school—right then. And even more oddly, he asked if I would come with him. You've probably guessed this by now, but I did did go.

I couldn't just let him run off again, could I?

Now we're at the school, after trudging through this great, dark forest, and are trying to pass the entrance test. Or I should say we were at the school. I went to get a bite to eat, and when I came back, Harry was missing. This nice man I met helped me find him. He had walked back along the path which we had followed to get to the school, and was laying on the ground, beaten and bruised. The man took him to a healer, and I went back to set up a tent, which is where I am now at three in the morning writing a letter to you.

I'm so sorry, Ron; I wish you were here. It's lonely and cold and there are no good books to keep me company.

Please write soon.

With love,

Hermione

Hermione reread her letter quickly before folding it neatly and slipping it into the charmed pocket on her shirt. She had the idea for the pocket at the end of her sixth year at Hogwarts, and had been so delighted that she added one to each of her shirts, and even modified some of her pants and a rather gaudy looking hat she had received for her birthday. The memory brought back a spark of joy for a moment. Then she went back to moping and stressing about Harry as she climbed back into bed.

The sun was just breaking in through the eastern window as she nodded off into a long, dreamless sleep.

Waking up with a spider on your forehead is very unsettling, but it is not nearly as unsettling as waking up next to a darkly clad figure hanging from the ceiling. Hermione shrieked and jumped out of bed onto the floor, only to see that the dark figure was Laszlo, and he was grinning impishly at her from his perch.

"Good morning?" he asked as he flipped down and landed gently on the floor.

Hermione didn't grace him with an answer. Instead, she glared at him and strutted out of the room, only to realize, like one who has just swerved to avoid a terrible accident, that she had not yet asked Laszlo about Harry.

She burst back into the room.

"What happened? Is he well? Where is he?"

"He hit his head. He's fine—a few blood replenishing potions did the trick. And he's standing right behind you with an annoyingly smug look plastered on his face."

It took Hermione three seconds to realize what Laszlo was saying. She spun around and saw Harry leaning against the door frame looking incredibly content and slightly mischievous.

"Don't look at me like you've seen a ghost, Hermione. It's rather immature, you know." said Harry, shaking his head like an wise old grandfather.

Hermione wrapped him in a tight hug, careful not to squeeze too hard, just in case there were any unhealed bone fractures. "Merlin, Harry, it's good to see you. You have no idea how worried I was."

"No," said Harry. "I think I do."

"Of course you do," said Hermione, pulling back. "So you know exactly what I mean when I say that I'm never letting you out of my sight again."

"Well..." began Harry.

"Now you've done it," said Laszlo in a mocking tone. "You've unleashed the wrath of the mighty Granger. All bow—" he ducked as Hermione hurled a pillow at him.

For once in what seemed like years, Hermione laughed, along with Harry and Laszlo. After settling down, they began walking to the restaurant as they discussed the previous day's events.

"Really, Harry, what do you remember? How did you get back in the cave?" asked Hermione.

Harry kicked a small stone with his foot. "I don't remember a second of it. All I know is that I was reading the bars on the fence when this barmy old codger walked up to me with this long cane and started talking to me in this weird language. After that, I was watching stars and Laszlo's disgusting face as he carried me into the hospital."

"Hey!" shouted Laszlo in indignation. "My face is quite beautiful, compared to your pale, washed-up looking one. In fact, I gaze at myself in the mirror every morning for at least half an hour. It really helps me stay sane. You should try it. I have this great big picture of me in my room—"

"Shut your trap," said Harry, scowling. "I need nothing less than a picture of you to stare at every morning. It's bad enough having to smell you from the other room."

Before Laszlo could respond, Hermione threw up her hands. "You're both acting like infants. We need to figure out this test before the afternoon, or we're going to flunk and head home. Now, have you any intelligent ideas?"

The look on Harry's face was frightening. His mouth curved into an odd, curving little grin and he stared over to the gate, where a small crowd gathered. He raised an eyebrow suggestively and turned, walking towards it.

"I think I may have one," he said.

And as he swept down the path with grace and ease, leaving hardly a sign of his presence behind him. Hermione had no doubt in her mind that he did, indeed, have an excellent idea.