Chapter 26: Bruised and Battered
There was nothing she could do. The portkey was drawing her through time and space, her parents magically linked to her arm. Her thoughts were incoherent as she was tossed about, her parents banging and tumbling into her and each other. Her mind was a muddle of thoughts and images, the only one making any sense was her certainty that she needed to get back to Ron. He needed her. But there was nothing she could do at the moment. Until they arrived at their destination she was at the mercy of the portkey.
What took in reality only a few seconds lasted an eternity for Hermione. Just when she thought she would go mad the random tumbling sensation ended and she and her parents came to a crashing halt against cold stone floor, Mr. and Mrs. Granger landing on top of Hermione, pining her to the floor. Immediately she tried to push her disorientated parents off and gain her feet, but found to her annoyance and aggravation that their limbs had become twined in the fall, and her parents, who had never taken a portkey before, were quiet shaken from the experience. Hermione gave a shrike of frustration after several failed attempts at gaining her freedom, and using more strength then she knew she possessed, she pushed her parents off and scrambled to her feet.
She spun around searching the floor for the object that had acted as their portkey. Her mother shifted toward her father and she saw it. A small, blue marble a little larger then the size of a Berty Bott Bean. She bent down and scooped it up into her open palm. Using the wand, that she was miraculously still holding and that was even more surprisingly not broken, she tapped the stone and cried "Portus!" it remained still in her hand. "Portus!" she cried again giving the marble a firmer tap. "Portus!" she screamed frantically when still nothing happened. "Portus! Portus! Portus!" Her terror building in her chest making it hard to breath.
"Miss Granger?" At the sound of her name, Hermione whirled around to find her tall headmaster watching her, his old face a mask of confusion. "What are you doing here?"
"Professor Dumbledore!" She cried flinging herself toward his desk. "Hurry! Death Eaters! My house! Ron! Hurry!" When he remained standing there immobile, staring at her vacuously, she cried. "What are you waiting for?"
"Miss Granger," he said in what he hoped was his most soothing voice. "What exactly has happened? Take a few deep breaths and try again."
She took several calming breaths knowing that Dumbledore was right. If she couldn't compose herself enough to tell him what had happened there wouldn't be time for him to go and save Ron. "Death Eaters attacked my house, sir." His cool blue eyes instantly narrowed. "My parents and I just escaped but Ron's still there…" tears gathered in her eyes "and he has no way out!"
For a split second Dumbledore stood there staring at her with his probing eyes as if trying to decide the validity of her story. Seconds later he was around his desk and striding purposefully toward the door, calling over his shoulder to Hermione in his hurry. "Take your parents to Madam Pomfrey. She'll tend to them."
"But sir…" Hermione rushed after him.
"Miss Granger, there's no time." He turned and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder when she caught up to him at the door. "Please Hermione," he said in a low personal voice, "do as I have asked."
Before she could offer further protest Dumbledore was gone, the heavy panel of his door closed firmly behind him. Hermione stared unseeingly at the door. Now that there was nothing further she could do her mind was flooded with those final images of Ron. She knew what that look had meant. It was the look of a man who was resigned to his fate. It was a look she has scene on his face before. It reminded her of that night he had sacrificed himself on the chess board. And yet it was different because in that split moment she saw in his face the resolution that if he was going to be taken out he intended on going down fighting.
"Moppet?" Hermione turned at the sound of her fathers strained voice, her mind still racing, her nerves stained to the breaking point. "What's going on?" He cringed as he took a step toward her. "What just happened?"
It took her a moment to tear her thoughts off of Ron and what was happening in her bedroom to her father's question. She opened her mouth to answer but found her throat stuck and no sound came out. She realized with a start that she didn't really know where to begin. How do you explain to your father that you are a prime target for a power crazed lunatic who hated you because of who your parents were and most especially because you were best friends with the only person who could defeat him? How did one even begin?
While she racked her brain searching for a solution she looked them over for the first time since Ron had delivered them to her. She was almost shocked to find them battered and bruised everywhere that skin shown, blood still ran from the open wound in her fathers brow and he clutched at his side where his ribs had cracked.
She sighed dejectedly, her eyes misting with tears. "I promise I'll explain everything to you." She held out her hand, indicating that they should follow her. "But first let's get you cleaned up."
"Honestly sweetheart," Her mother winced as she stepped gingerly forward on the ankle that she had twisted when she tripped over the bound Death Eater, "were not nearly as bad as we look."
"Speak for yourself." Her father groaned as he stumbled forward a few paces.
"But it's nothing a good nights sleep won't fix."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You need more then a good nights sleep. I told you I would take you to see Madam Pomfrey. She'll fix you in a trice."
Her parents glanced at each other, then at her with a skeptical look in their pained faces. "No offence sweetheart. But I don't see what your Madam Pomfry can possibly do."
"Mum," Hermione sighed shaking her head. "There is so much you have to learn about magic. Second year Harry broke his arm and Madam Pomfrey could have fixed it instantly with magic if Profe…if someone hadn't blundered it and removed his bones all together." Mr. and Mrs. Grangers eyes widened with horror. "Don't worry." Hermione assured then. Sensing where there thoughts were going. "Madam Pomfrey gave him some Skelo-Grow and his bones grew back by morning good as new. If she can re-grow bones I think she can mend a few broken ribs." Her parents still looked unconvinced but followed her from the Headmasters office with no further protest.
The muggles first real shock came when they reached the bottom of the spiraling staircase and they watched the solid stone gargoyle move back into place to guard the entrance as soon as they had passed through. Hermione was forced to wait as her father exhibited the same wonder for things magical that Mr. Weasley did for things muggle. She watched him step close and circle the still statue several rotations before trying to scare it into mobility.
Despite herself Hermione found herself chuckling at her father. "It won't move unless you give him the proper password." She slipped her arm through his and pulled him into movement, forcing him to leave the astonishing gargoyle behind.
Their journey to the hospital wing took twice as long as was necessary. Her parents kept on stopping to gape at some of the more spectacular sights around the castle. The staircase offered the first distraction as it chose to move at the exact moment her mother set her foot down. Hermione, whose thoughts were solely focused on Ron and her anxiety for him, failed to notice that her parents had stopped to converse with a portrait who was delighted to talk to real, authentic muggles for the first time in almost four hundred years, until she was taking the corner into the next hallway. She waited, toe tapping anxiously, for the conversation to cease and her parents to catch up.
"Muggles?" Her mother asked as the sixteenth painting they passed addressed them as such. "What are muggles? I heard that pale boy call your father and I that. What does it mean?"
"Oh, what?" Hermione blinked at her mother a few times before her brain cottoned on. And when she did her eyes widened with surprise. She knew that her parents were ignorant of most things magical, but she hadn't realized that they were so unfamiliar that they did not know the most common name of muggle. "A Muggle is a person with out magic," She explained, "like you and dad. Basically anyone who's not a witch or wizard is a Muggle, that is or course except for squibs."
"Squibs?"
"Yes, squibs. They are people who were born into magical families but were born with out any magical powers. Mr. Filch, the schools care taker, is a squib for instance. So he's the opposite of me. He was born to magical parents but has no powers, and I was born to Muggles but I am a witch."
"Oh, I see." Mrs. Granger nodded and the two stepped back into motion hurrying to Mr. Granger who had gotten a head of them and was now trapped in a trick step. Mrs. Granger seemed to be getting over her initial shock of the bizarre happenings in the castle, for she simply took one of her husbands arms while her daughter took the other and together they heaved him out of his trap. When he had regained his footing they continued on their way but Hermione could tell by the way that her mother caught her bottom lip between her teeth that she was deep in thought.
"Hermione," she broke the comfortable silence, her voice was contemplative. "That boy, the one who attacked us…he called you a Mudblood." Hermione knew eventually this question would come and had dreaded it, she still did. She didn't want to have to explain to her parents that there were people in the world who hated her because of her blood. "I think I know what it means…but I would like you to explain it to me."
"Mum, must I explain it to you now?" she turned pleading eyes on her mother. "Can't we just get you and dad better before we get into explanations?"
After a few moments of her mother staring undecidedly at her she nodded. "Yes," she conceded, "but we will discus it." Her expression leaving no doubt in her mind that they would.
"Yes, mum."
"How much longer until we reach the hospital wing?" Mr. Granger stopped, grimacing, to turn around and look at his wife and daughter.
Hermione glanced around to locate their current location when she realized with relief that they were finally there. "Actually it's right through that door." She pointed to her right where massive double doors stood partially open. She stepped forward and pushed the heavy, double panels open so that her parents could step inside.
"Madam Pomfrey!" Hermione called softly so as not to disturb any possible students who were already there. Within seconds the doors to her office were flung open as if she had canine like hearing, and Madam Pomfrey was rushing forward toward them.
"Miss Granger." The school matron stumbled at the sight of her, her eyes widened with surprise at Hermione presence. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in Bulgaria or some such country."
"I was." Hermione agreed. "I came home for Easter and well," she motioned to her parents. "We were attacked."
"Merlin!" the school healer gasped when she caught full sight of Mr. and Mrs. Granger standing uncomfortably behind their daughter. And in less then ten minutes, Mr. Granger's bones were mended, his and his wife's bruises were healed until they were hardly noticeable, their cuts were covered in a light slave, and they had both been given sleeping drafts and put to bed.
Madam Pomfrey had then turned her sights on Hermione and tried to convince her to take a sleeping draft herself and climb into bed, but the young witch refused. There was nothing wrong with her to begin with, thanks to Ron and his quick thinking, and she would not let herself be taken care of until she knew he was all right as well. It was the very least she could do. Besides, is anything happened to him she wanted to be awake to find out.
She sank into the hard wooden chair that sat between her mother and father's beds. She sat and waited quietly until she knew that they had both fallen into deep, undisturbed sleep. When she was certain they would not awake and she would not be overheard, she pulled her feet up onto the chair so that her knees were pressed close to her chest. She bent her head close to her knees and let the despair she had scarcely held at bay wash over her and wept.
Ron tensed his body preparing himself for another collision with hard wood, a pointed edge, solid wall or what ever else the Malfoys could think to throw him against. He slammed into the bookcase standing beside Hermione's bed for the second time, the impact sending the remainder of the books to the floor in a heap. Just when his body began to sage toward the floor he was flung back, this time his body hurtling toward the closest corer of the disheveled desk. The corner gouged into the small of his back, tearing away flesh, causing blood to pour from the wound. He cried out in agony, the sound changing in his throat to a cry of warning as he was slammed face first into the wall, knocking frames free of their hangings, the glass shattering on the floor from the impact.
Finally, as if he were a child's detested rag doll, he was thrown to the floor with such force that the impact broke the death grip he had maintained on the shaft of wood that was his wand. His one means of defense bounced from his grasp and came to rest on the floor just out of reach of his extended fingers.
Ron watched with narrowed, glazed eyes as two brightly polished, black boots took three steps toward him, stooping just in front of his long nose. "You put up a good fight, Weasley." Draco crouched down so that he was closer to eye sight with his red haired victim. "You really did. But it's time you give in and come with us nicely. If you don't…well, let's just say there are other means we have of making you to what we want."
Ron clenched his teeth together as he pinned Draco with his cold, blue eyes. "Go to hell."
Malfoy curled his fingers into a tight fist and slammed it into the side of Ron's head, ramming his scalp into the hard floor. "Mind your manners, weasel."
"Hurry up, Draco." Lucius snarled, glancing anxiously toward the door. "There's no telling where the Mudblood went and who she has spoken to. This house could be swarming with Aurors and Order members any minute now."
"Yes father," Draco turned away from Ron, his chin still set in an angry jut, to rifle through his pockets. That's when Ron saw his opportunity. Taking advantage of Draco's distraction he kicked his legs out and knocked the other boy off his feet, lunging for his wand when he started to fall. His finger tips just grazed the smooth shaft of wood when they were suddenly crushed under Lucius's heel. The older Malfoy put his full weight on the foot immobilizing Ron's hand so that he could kick the wand out of reach and Ron cried out, several of the bones in his hand crushing under the other mans weight. Both Malfoys smiled with satisfaction at the pained look on Ron's face.
Lucius ground his heel further into Ron's flesh, satisfied with the crunching sound and the boy's cry of anguish before he stepped away, releasing Ron's shattered hand from it s trap. He instantly brought his hand protectively to his chest, hiding it behind his other hand. "You son of a bitch." he snarled, glaring with hatred at the Death Eater. "Go to hell you sodding bastard."
"Don't talk to my father that way." Draco shouted, directing his wand on Ron. "Crucio!" he cried with a flourish wave of his wand.
Ron bit into his lip as he fought to hold back the scream tearing at the back of his throat to come out, refusing to allow Draco his demented satisfaction. His body arched off the ground in agony and his lips pierced his lip filling, his mouth with the metallic taste of blood. In his mind he begged his tormentors to stop, to kill him so that the pain would cease, but his wish was left ungranted.
Draco lifted the curse and Ron collapsed onto the floor, a mass of useless limbs, panting with pain. Never before would he have believed that there was anything in the world as painful as the Cruciatus curse. It forced his muscles to cease and twitch out of his control, contracting with painful cramps. It felt like his blood was boiling in his veins, burning him from the inside out; that his insides were being torn to shreds by a scavenging predator and that his skin grew tight, making it feel like his bones and innards were being contracted together in wail boning, leaving him immobile and unable to fight.
"Very good, Draco." His father praised, nodding with approval. He slowly circled the room watching everything with an observant eye, reminding Ron of a hovering vulture, waiting for his injured prey to die so he could swoop in and feed. While he circuited the room he made certain that no part of him, not even his cloak, would brush up against any of Hermione's belongings, as if contact with them would contaminate his person. All the while his stabbing eyes never left his son or their mutual victim. "You must really hate Arthur's boy to cause him such pain." His voice was filled with pride at his son's apparent knack for cruelty. His lips spread in what could be interpreted as a smile but seemed more like a sneer. "However," he continued, nodding at his son. "I still think it prudent to leave immediately, before the fool Dumbledore arrives."
"Not yet father." Draco crouched before his victim and used the tip of his wand to force his chin up. "This is my mission and I want to know how the Mudblood escaped." He looked over Ron's shoulder at his father. "We had every exit blocked. How is it she managed to get out?" he directed his question to Ron who continued to stare through him as if he wasn't there, his blue eyes unfocused and his teeth clenched tight refusing to answer.
"Don't be a fool weasel." he said in a hushed voice. "It's not you we want. It's her." He pressed the tip of his wand deeper into the fleshy underside of Ron's chin, causing him to gage as his wind pipe was momentarily cut off. "Tell me where she is and how she escaped."
"Draco." Lucius's voice held a note of warning.
The younger Malfoy ignored his father, his eyes never leaving the red head's face. "Tell me."
The red head sneered at his captor with loathing. His teeth were clenched tight as he spoke. "Even if I did know where she was, I wouldn't tell you." Ron spat at his feet, letting him know exactly what he thought of him.
The blond boy sighed, shaking his head dramatically. "Well, no one ever did accuse you of being intelligent, did they?" Draco pushed himself back to his feet and turned his attention to his father who was glaring at the photo of Harry, Ron and Hermione that normally sat on the desk. "Why don't you have a go, father?" he suggested. "I have not yet mastered your ability to inflict pain."
"Don't waste your flattery on me, Draco." Lucius turned and tossed the frame in the air and blew it to bits with a well trained spell. "It would be better used on the Dark Lord." He turned and looked down at Ron trying to decide if they could spare the time to participate in one of his favorite pastimes. His face lighting up with a malicious smile he turned his wand on Ron and with a voice dripping with boredom muttered "Crucio."
When the curse hit him the rest of the world melted away until all that he was left with was pain. Unimaginable, mind numbing pain. He no longer had any control over his body and was unsurprised to hear his own blood curdling scream fill the room. The pain was so intense he couldn't breath, it felt like his lungs were collapsing in on each other though he desperately tried to draw in air. He could not seem to make his mind and lungs cooperate no matter how hard he tried.
When the curse was lifted Ron was left sobbing, torrents of wet, salty tears streaking down his face, mingling with the blood of his pierced lip. He rolled to his side, his stomach heaving excruciatingly and emptied what little food he had eaten that morning along with the blood he had swallowed from his pierced lip, onto Hermione's brightly patterned rug. When his body stopped heaving he tried to force his lungs to take in short, even breaths, hoping it would help ease the lingering pain, but nothing helped. Every muscle ached; every bone felt like it was shattered. He wanted to move, there was a sharp pain in his cheek, but he couldn't bring himself to roll over onto his side or lift his hand and remove the piece of glass he now realized was imbedded in his flesh.
"Satisfied Draco?" The young blond nodded. "Then let us take him and go. He'll work just as well for our purpose as the Mudblood."
Sighing with resignation Draco thrust his hand into his pocket. "You're right, sir." He pulled a long parcel wrapped in black fabric from within the depth of the robes. "This can be just as easily continues elsewhere." He started to unravel the black cloth, making certain not to touch the wooden spoon within. "I'll send him off while you free Dolhove, Parkinson and those two brainless oafs. Honestly," he rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't be surprised if they were sill trying to figure out how to stand up."
"Yes, well…there is something to be said for having lackeys that will do what you tell them without questioning it." He moved toward the closed door and was just reaching out to turn the latch when there was a sudden shout from downstairs.
"Dumbledore!" Crabbe was able to shout out his warning a second before he was silenced by an unknown spell.
Lucius spun around, his eyes wide with crazed terror. "Hurry Draco. Take him and go." And without waiting to see if he was obeyed or that his son escaped, he appearated from the room leaving both son and victim behind.
Moving quickly Draco touched Ron with the end of the wooden spoon and waited just long enough to make sure the portkey had worked before he appearated himself leaving his fellows behind to fend for themselves.
Three minutes later in a burst of sound, the door flew of its hinges and went through the window on the other side of the room. Albus Dumbledore stepped imperiously into the room followed closely by Remus Lupin.
They both stopped just inside the door and looked about taking in the room's disheveled state. One of the two bookcases was tipped on its side, its load spread across the room in shambles. The bed stood at an odd angle from the wall as if a large object had been slammed against it with enough force to send it skidding across the floor. The desk chair was in pieces, most of the frames on the walls had been knocked to the floor. His eyes settled on the several spots of blood and the pile of vomit staining the center of the bright rug where the spun glass of Hermione's portkey still lay in pieces where it had shattered.
"Where are they?" Remus asked coming to himself. His toe bumped against an object on the floor, sending it rolling away. He crouched down and found to his surprise that it was a wand. He recognized the piece of wood. It was Ron's wand. He straightened to his full height, a knot of dread twisting his insides.
Dumbledore sighed heavily as he turned away from the scene. Unless he was much mistaken, which he hardly ever was, Mr. Weasley had put up quiet a fight, if the state of the room was any indication. With only a glance he could tell that the blood and vomit were still fresh which meant that not only was he still alive, but they had just managed to miss him. "I'm afraid were too late, Remus." He sad sadly, turning to his friend and former student. "They've taken Mr. Weasley."
Lupin's mouth firmed resolutely as he turned away from the old wizard to look about the room as if hoping that there was some evidence the old man had missed that would prove him wrong. But he knew Dumbledore was right. "Harry's not going to like this." He mumbled finally, shaking his head miserably. When he turned back to Dumbledore his eyes were blazing with indignant anger. "He's going to want to go after them, to look for him. And I don't blame him."
"Nor do I." The white haired wizard sighed heavily, "However, Harry won't just want to go after him , Remus. He will. I have no doubt that the moment he hears of young Mr. Weasley's fate he will try and leave the safety of the castle and look for him, Miss Granger undoubtedly at his side." His pale blue eyes glistened slightly with tears. "It is both a blessing and a curse isn't it? The way he would go to great lengths to save either Mr. Weasley or Miss Granger," he explained, "as they would do for him."
"We can't let him do that." The werewolf growled with righteous indignation.
"I am well aware of that, Remus. He will have to be retained, as much as I hate to do it." Sighing heavily Dumbledore turned toward the door. "There is nothing we can do at the moment for Mr. Weasley. But there are others who still need our help." He directed Remus toward the door and followed the haggard man the length of the corridor and down the stairs to where there four captives were waiting, glaring at their captors, immobilized by the ropes the two friends had conjured to bind them.
"Remarkable." Remus heard the headmaster mutter to himself as he looked down at the four people Ron had managed to apprehend singlehandedly. "Absolutely remarkable." Wasting no time Dumbledore summoned on of the broken frames to him and cast the appropriate spell. Without bothering to look at his captives he tossed the frame, that was now charmed to act as a portkey, into Pansy's lap and the group of four disappeared out of sight, reappearing seconds later in one of the holding rooms at the Ministry of Magic.
"Well, Remus." He nodded toward the door. "There are still other homes we need to check on."
Understanding the importance of the older wizard's words Lupin nodded and took a step toward the front door that remained standing open from when they had arrived. He had barley put his foot down when his feet were suddenly swept from underneath him, bring him face down to the floor with a mighty crash.
Looking up at Dumbledore with bewilderment, he turned over and pushed himself to his feet as the other wizard bent low to the ground, retrieving a single, crushed, red jelly bean. He straightened to his full height and extended his hand palm up so that the other man could examine what he held. Lupin instantly recognized the bean for what it was.
"Fred and George will be pleased to know their inventions worked."
"Yes." Dumbledore agreed readily enough, though there was no trace of joy or excitement in his voice. "However, I do not think this is the way they would have wished to learn." His long fingers closed around the bean seconds before he appearated from the foyer leaving Lupin to follow behind.
