Chapter 29: Back to the Grangers' House
It was well past midnight and Gryffindor Tower had settled into a silent calm. The last of the students had abandoned their parchment and books or their cards and tricks in favor of their own warm beds and pleasant dreams.
A loan figure appeared at the bottom of the girls' dormitory staircase, clinging close to the wall and the protection of the deep shadows. The fire burned low in the grate, leaving most of the room drenched in darkness. Peaking her head around the corner, she waited just long enough to make certain that the common room was empty before she darted to the other wall, traveling through shadows so as not to be spotted.
She was dressed appropriately in black trousers, and a dark jumper. Her hair was bound back low on her head in a rubber band, the stray ends held into place by the dark cap she had donned. Slung over her shoulder was a large rucksack filled with things she thought might come in handy. She had chosen carefully, hoping that the dark colors would help act as a camouflage and so, unless one was looking specifically for her, she would remain almost invisible.
When she reached the base of the boys' dormitory steps, she hesitated a moment. She felt a shiver of uncertainty race up her spine but she shook it off. Stiffening her chin and squaring her shoulders she began the climb up. To much time had been wasted and it was running out.
Classes had already started at Hogwarts, seeing as all the students had returned, and in a few days they would begin at Dumrstrang. Continuing classes while Ron's fait was still unknown was gut wrenching enough, but the thought of dividing the group of them further was unbearable. She could not conceivably continue with school work and classes while waiting patiently like a good little girl for news of Ron's fate.
Which was why she was climbing the steps to the sixth year boy's dormitory at half past one in the morning. Because she needed to go and find him. She was well aware that Dumbledore would try and stop her if he knew what her intentions were and undoubtedly he was having all three of them watched. But she also knew that she couldn't live with herself if she didn't at least try. Ron, after all, would have done the same for her.
She reached the landing just outside the boys' dormitory. Without pause she reached out and gripped the handle, giving it a gentle turn so as to not make a noise and wake anyone up.
To her relief all five of the doormats were asleep. Her eyes traveled over them landing first on Harry. For a brief moment in time she had considered bringing him with, but had quickly set the notion aside. Harry was too important to risk, she knew that. And if he did leave to look for Ron, Order members would be called upon to find him. At least she was relatively under their radar and if they did come after her, it would be one, maybe two at the most. She wanted as many to continue looking for Ron in the off chance that one of them would find him before she did.
And if that weren't reason enough, the sight of Harry sleeping, sprawled across his bed, sealed his fate. He had of course tried not to let on, but she knew that he had not been sleeping well in the two weeks since Ron had been taken. That he was now was reason enough for her to leave him sleep, as troubled and fitful as it was. He thrashed about on his bed, throwing his covers and pillow to the floor with his flailing arms.
All Harry's doormats were sleeping as well. Neville and Seamus rested peacefully, their breath low and heavy, vibrating through the room in a gentle humm. Dean's rest however, was not so serene. He thrashed about, kicking off his covers and moaning incoherent words. She imagined he was still suffering nightmares from when the Death Eaters attacked his family.
Lastly she turned her sight on Ron's empty bed. She held her breath and listened. There was something not right and she couldn't instantly put a finger on it. It wasn't until a raspy snore escaped Neville's parted lips that she realized what it was. The room was to quiet. While Ron slept his thunderous snores usually filled the air. The room was simply to quiet and desolate without it.
When she was certain that none of the inhabitants had heard her open the door, she pushed the panel far enough that she could slip through the gap and gain the room. When she cleared the entrance she dashed for the trunk resting at the foot of Harry's bed.
She slowly lifted the lid, easing it open in a way to ensure that it did not make a sound. Finally she had it high enough that she could slip a hand between the gap and rifle around until her fingers grazed smooth, light weight material. Her fingers curled around it and she slowly eased it out of the trunk and tucked it securely under one arm before reaching into her pocket and extracting a single sheet of paper that she slid into the trunk in the cloaks place.
With that finished she lowered the lid then flung the cloak over her shoulders, making certain she was completely covered before she moved toward the door. She stopped just inside the portal and felt an eerie shiver run up her spine when she saw that the shaft of light spilling through the room did not have her shadow in it. Ignoring the sensation she lifted her head and gave one last look to Harry's bed.
"Goodbye, Harry." She murmured before turning and closing the door.
As soon the shaft of light was gone Harry snapped his eyes open and turned toward the door. "Goodbye, Hermione." He sighed as he tucked back into his pillow. "And Good luck."
"What do you mean you let her go?" Ginny demanded, rising to her feet in shock.
"Exactly what I said." Harry held his ground. "I let her go."
"With your cloak?" she questioned.
"With my cloak." He agreed.
Ginny's mouth gapped open and strange sputtering sounds began to pour out. "Why didn't you stop her?" She finally managed to shout, whirling around in her anger, unbothered that people were starting to watch them pecularily.
"Do you really think I could have?" he asked reasonably, taking hold of her hand and pulling her back onto the sofa beside him. "I happen to know for a fact," he lowered his voice, unlike Ginny, conscience of his house mates leaning ever so discretely closer trying to listen to their conversation, "that Hermione is a master at fully body binds, having personally seen her in action. And I didn't right fancy spending the rest of the night lying frozen on the floor."
Unable to contest his argument she tried a different avenue. "Then why didn't you go with her? You could have come for me and we could have gone after her."
"No Ginny," he sighed. "I couldn't have." He took her hand in his and squeezed it gently. "If Hermione had wanted us to go with her," Harry explained, "she would have asked us to come with."
"But…" her brain searched frantically, trying to find a way to pin the helplessness and anger on Hermione and Harry. "But she made a promise." Ginny finally stuttered. "Hermione never breaks her promises."
"No she doesn't. And she hasn't." Harry nodded his head when Ginny shook hers feverishly. "The only one of us who actually ever promised we wouldn't go looking for him was me. And on top of that, Hermione is the only one of us who is of age and so can technically make decisions like that for herself."
The red head growled with frustration. "Why are you being so calm about all of this?" She pulled her hands free and rose to her feet once again. "She left us! She abandoned us!"
"No, Ginny. She didn't." Harry gained his feet and turned the young girl so that she looked at him. "She did what we couldn't. She went to look for Ron. If I had been in her place I would have done the same thing. I wouldn't have wanted you or Hermione with me either. I would have left you here where it was safe. Where I knew I wouldn't have to worry about you. Besides," he lowered his gaze so that he wouldn't have to look into Ginny's turbulent brown eyes. "I imagine Dumbledore already has a few Order members looking for her. I'm sure it won't be long until they find her and bring her back."
"If that's the case why did you let her go to begin with?"
"Because," he lifted his penetrating green eyes to hers, "I knew it was something that she needed to do…For all of us."
Sighing with defeat she collapsed onto the sofa, her arms crossed over her chest. "Where do you think she'll go?"
"I don't know." He shook his head. "But, Hermione is smart…She'll have some semblance of a plan."
Hermione slowly lifted her eyes and suddenly found herself struggling to blink back tears. Her house didn't look any different then it usually did and despite her anxiety over seeing it mutilated and destroyed she was also fearful that someone had put it back to order. She desperately needed it to be the way it was two weeks ago when the attack had happened.
She strode up the short walk emotions rilled at the sight of it. It seemed surreal that so much damage had been done here and yet the house looked unscathed. Hermione drew Harry's cloak more tightly around her shoulders. She wanted to make it to the front door unseen by her neighbors and others who might be watching the house. She stopped on the front stoop and reached out a hand. She ran her fingers along the cool glass that had been set in place around the door, as well as the panel which had been mended, giving the impression from the outside that nothing unnatural had happened inside it's walls.
Taking a deep breath she slipped her key into the lock and turned it. The bolt slipped easily loose and the door swung open at her instances. The sight that met her eyes was both a blessing and a curse.
She stepped through the portal and closed the door, all the while trying to hold back the well of tears threatening to spill down her face. Everything was as it had been that day. The table lay in shards across the floor. Glass from the window and picture frames glittered in the low light spilling through the window. The room looked devastated. So unlike the tidy house that she remembered.
Hermione spent twenty minutes looking through what was left of her foyer; searching for clues but making certain not to move anything if she could help it. This was still a crime scene after all.
When her search of the downstairs proved fruitless she turned her sights on her bedroom. Taking a deep breath she mounted the stairs to the upper story. When she reached the landing she turned right and crept down the hall toward her door.
A hand flew to her mouth smothering her gasp of distress. Her door was gone and the frame and wall surrounding the portal was blackened and chard with spell damage. A new wealth of tears came to her eyes with the realization that Ron had truly been the only thing that stood between her and certain death. This wasn't the first time the thought had come to mind, but never before had it hit her so powerfully.
Mustering her strength and squaring her shoulders determinedly, she took the last steps to her room and stopped in the doorway as another wave of despair and hopelessness washed over her. She couldn't even recognize the room as her own anymore. All her books and rewards were destroyed, a good many of them burned or singed from wayward spells.
Her floor was covered with the contents of her desk and walls, her bed had been moved a good distance from its original spot, the book shelves were turned over; her pillows were torn, the feathers scattered across the bed and the floor near by.
Hermione suddenly fell to her knees, her hands coming up to stifle the sob threatening to come out. There was blood all over her room. It was on the corner of her desk, the window frame, the walls, her bookcase, the floor. In the center of her rung in front of her was a pool of dried blood and vomit. Her arms slowly wrapped around her middle and she crouched low over her knees, rocking back and forth as she cried. Tears leaked freely from her eyes, sliding along the bridge of her nose to land on the scarlet stain of her rug.
"Hermione," she felt a hand fall on her shoulder and she jerked away in fright, spinning around and drawing her wand as she went. "It's all right, Hermione." The familiar, soothing voice came again. "It's me." There was the sound of fabric moving and Remus Lupin's head appeared a short distance away from her.
"Professor?" She started with surprise. "What are you doing here? How did you know where to find me?"
"Ahh," his hovering head moved, indicating that he was taking a spot on the floor. "When you left the castle I knew you would be coming back here."
"But, why?"
"Because," he pulled the cloak off his shoulders and let it pool around him on the floor. "I knew you would be looking for clues… and this seemed to be the obvious place for you to start."
"All right," she conceded. "Professor…how did you know I was here?"
He slowly lifted his hand and pointed at her head, giving his own a nod. "Your hood fell out of place."
Hermione's hands flew to her head groping for the comforting feeling of the familiar material. Her eyes widened with panic as she started to rise to her feet. As if sensing where her mind was headed, Lupin help up a halting hand and said. "Don't worry, Hermione, no one saw you come in."
She lowered her hand uncertainly. "Are you certain?"
"Yes." He nodded, smiling with assurance. "The only reason I knew I wasn't the only person in the house was because I heard the front door open."
Following her previous professors lead she removed her cloak and set it aside as they settled on the floor facing each other.
They sat there a moment in slice, both of them feeling awkward and uncomfortable. "Do you have any questions for me, Hermione?" Lupin finally asked, startling Hermione.
"Yes." Her shoulders straightened as her confidence returned. She looked him in the eyes, demanding with her own that he tell the truth. "Is the order any closer to finding him?"
Remus Lupin sighed sadly, "That's a hard question to answer Hermione."
"Why?"
"Because, technically we know where he is…"Hermione's face lit up brilliantly and Remus was loath to destroy it. "Unfortunately, we have no way of getting to him."
"I don't understand." She slumped over her legs, catching her head in her hands. "That doesn't make any sense."
"Let me explain." He moved fractionally closer. "We know for certain he is being held in Malfoy Manor."
"But that's wonderful." She rocked forward on her legs. "Mr. Weasley has been there before. He can find it again, of course."
"No, he can't Hermione."
"What…oh…" the light faded from her eyes as realization struck. "Of course." She brushed the hair back from her eyes. "They've hidden it the same way Dumbledore hid Grimmauld Place, didn't they."
"Exactly." Remus agreed.
"But couldn't Professor Snape…"
"No." Remus shook his head. "Only a select few have had its location revealed to them, and Professor Snape isn't one of them. And even if he was, I'm sorry to say it, we couldn't risk him compromising his position to attempt anything. He's too vital to the Order and the war effort."
Rage blazed to life inside her at the older mans words. "And what about Ron!" she bound to her feet, glaring down furiously at the older man. "Isn't he important? He's Harry's and my best friend." Her voice cracked with tears. "You need Harry to win this damn war for you and he needs Ron. What do you think it's going to do to him if they kill Ron? Do you think he's going to help the wizards that couldn't even save his best friend?"
"Hermione…" Lupin rose unsteadily to his feet.
"No!" she jumped back out of his reach. "You might not be willing to do anything to help him but I'll be damned if I sit by and do nothing." She whirled around and started marching toward the door.
"Hermione Granger…Stop!" The unwavering dominance and authority in his voice made her pause. She slowly turned to face him, her cheeks flushed with anger.
"I understand, Hermione. I really do." He took a cautious step closer to her, afraid that she might bolt. "I would have done the same for James and Sirius and, Merlin help me, even Peter, if it had been within my power to do so."
"Well it is in my power, so if you'll just excuse me." She made to turn but his voice halted her once again.
"Hermione it's not in your power." He said forcefully, causing her to pause once again. In all the years that she had known him this was the first time she had heard him raise his voice in anger. "You think you're helping him, but you're not. Neither he nor Harry will benefit from this."
"But I…"
"The moment you get near Malfoy Manor you're dead. Do you understand that Hermione. You are a Mudblood to them. Nothing more, and nothing less. They will not spare you because they already have someone to lure Harry out of Hogwarts. Do you really think if they capture you they will keep you alive long enough for Harry to rescue you?"
"B-but Ron…"
"Is a pure-blood… He is a pure-blood and that is one of the only things that is keeping him alive." He griped her arms sternly and gave her a slight shake. "They are trying to break him, Hermione. Do you understand that? They are trying to break him so that he will join their side."
Her eyes widened in terror. "Ron would never join them. He would die first."
"I know that, and you know that. But they might not."
"Which is all the more reason for me to go to him." She wrenched her arms free of her former teachers grasp. "I have to save him."
"You can't save him, Hermione. You can't." He thrust his fingers into his long hair with aggravation. "What can you do that the Order has not? What will you gain by going there and sacrificing yourself? You can't save him. No one can. We've tried everything imaginable to get inside that house. There is nothing we can do."
"No!" She screamed, beating his hands away as she back up, not bothering to hide the tears leaking down her cheeks. "There has to be something." She spun about, falling to her knees and began rifling through the piles of stuff on her floor. "There has to be something here. Something we're over looking. There has to be." She tossed books and parchment aside as she continued her frantic search.
Her hand sliced open on a shard of glass, but Hermione didn't notice as she continued her search.
"Hermione," Lupin crouched down, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Harry needs you." He took her hand in his and used his wand to stop the flow of blood. "He needs you to be with him and he needs you to be strong."
She pulled her hand out of his grasp to cover her face. Hher entire body rocked back and forth as her shoulders shook with violent sobs. "Ron."
"Please Hermione…" he pleaded. "I can't force you to go back to Hogwarts, but…Harry needs you. And Ron would want you to be there for him. You know he would." Lupin moved closer and wrapped a tentative arm around Hermione's shoulders.
"Do you know what has always made you three so strong?" Hermione shook her head, unable to answer trough her tears. "Your devotion and undivided loyalty to one and other, as well as your complete willingness to sacrifice and die for one and other. That's a very, very rare thing." She took a shaky breath, finding it impossible to gain control of her emotions. "Ron sacrificed himself for both you and Harry. That is no small gift Hermione, and throwing yourself and the Death Eaters mercy is very poor way to repay him."
"You speak as though he's died."
"I'm sorry, that wasn't necessarily me intent." He let his arms drop from around her shoulders. "I just need to make you see the futileness of this. You're not helping Ron and you're not helping Harry."
"So…what?" She turned her head to glare at him. "You want me to go back to school and pretend like everything's all right? That my best friend wasn't taken? That they aren't torturing him at this very minute? Is that what you want me to do, because if it is…I can't. I can't pretend everything is all right."
"And I can't try and find a way to help Ron if I am forced to follow after you."
"You're still trying to help him?" she blinked in surprise.
"Of course we are." Lupin wrapped his fingers around her arm and pulled her to her feet gently. "We haven't abandoned, Ron. Not by any means. There are ten Aurors assigned by the ministry to find him, another ten or twelve from the Order, and about thirty or forty others who have volunteered to do it willingly when their not on assignment. Despite what you obviously believe, he is one of our top priorities and we will not stop until we've either found him or…"
"…receive word that he's dead." Hermione finished when Lupin did not.
He nodded his head sadly. "Indeed."
Hermione sucked in her bottom lip, gnawing on it while she thought. She could see the truth of her former professor's words. There really was nothing she could do, and Harry did need her… But to just stop here and go back…it made her feel like she was giving up. Like she was abandoning him all over again. And the idea of going back to Bulgaria was unthinkable. She could not be so far away. Not now. Not when Harry and Ginny and…Ron needed her so much. She knew it was foolish, even wishful thinking on her part, but she felt that Ron could tell she was still in England. That she hadn't just abandoned him and gone back to Bulgaria. And in the slim chance that that was true, she wanted to be here when he came back.
"I can't go back to Bulgaria, Professor. I just…I can't"
"You have five days until you are suppose to return." His voice had returned to the same soft, understanding tone he usually used. "You don't have to make that decision yet."
"I'm not going back to Bulgaria." She crossed her arms stubbornly in front of her chest and tilted her chin up defiantly. "I'm going back to Hogwarts so I can be with Harry and Ginny."
Lupin shrugged tentatively. "If that's what you think is best."
"I do." Scooping up Harry's inviasbility cloak, Hermione turned back to the door, blocking her view of the other man, and so missed the slightest glimpse of a smile that stole across his lips before melting once again into a thin line.
He was weak, very weak and cold and had neither the strength or inclination to crawl the few steps to the corner where the moldy pile of putrid hay lay, waiting for him to creep inside and keep warm with. Instead, he curled into a tight ball near the door where he had crawled to the night before when they had brought him his small portion of bread and water. He had eaten what he could and hid the rest away for later; there was no telling when they would next feed him.
At that moment his stomach growled loudly, begging him to fill it with food. Ron moaned as he rolled as far as he could onto his throbbing back. It was still discolored with bruises and some of the wounds they had inflicted had not fully healed.
He dug into his pocket for the dry and crusty bread and greedily brought it to his lips. It wasn't until he swallowed his second mouthful that he realized what he was doing. He crammed the last bit of bread into his mouth before he rolled back onto his side and waited. He couldn't feel the familiar waves of despair…the Dementors must have retreated. Dread welled inside him as he struggled to push himself closer to the wall. The appsence of the Dementors could only mean one thing. One of them was coming.
They had left him alone for three days and while it was torment for him not knowing what was going on or what was going to happen next, another part of him had wistfully started to believe that they might leave him alone to the solitude. To never see light, never have the companionship of another person was maddening in of its self, but combine that with the affects of the Dementors and life became unbearable.
Still the Death Eaters hadn't come and taken him from his cell in days, which had allowed some of the wounds in his back to close and for some of the angry colors to recede. His hand was still shattered and useless and his legs had nearly no strength left in them. Despite everything, when he had the presences of mind to think it, he was still thankful that he was alive. As long as he survived there was always the chance that someone would come and save him.
The silence of his prison cell was disturbed by the sound of the bolt sliding free of its catch, echoing loudly in the stillness. The door burst open and the room was flooded with dim light emanating from the torch placed in the sconce outside his door. Ron feebly lifted a hand to block the light which was blaringly bright to his eyes which hadn't seen daylight in several days. He blinked fiercely as tears flooded his dry eyes and poured down his cheeks.
Finally when his eyes adjusted properly and he could see, he nearly groaned out loud. Draco Malfoy's sneering face was looking down at him from the doorway.
"What the hell do you want, Ferret?"
The sneer sharpened into a furious glare. "One would have thought you would have learned by now to hold your tongue in your superior's presences." The pale boy stiffened his spine and tilted his head in a disgustingly arrogant pose.
Ron closed his eyes as he turned to his other side, leaving the other boy his back. "What do you want, Malfoy?"
The oily smile reappeared on the other boy's pale face. "I've come to bring you news, Weasel." He stepped farther into the dungeon room, taking care not to let his cloak brush against anything inside. "It's about that Mudblood you demean yourself by spending time with." Ron stiffened as Hermione's face flashed through his mind. "Rumor has it…she's left Hogwarts." The red haired boy slowly turned over so that he could see Malfoy and watch for a hint of a lie on his face. "Word is, from a reliable source, she's left the school and is on her way here, right now, to try and rescue you."
Ron felt an instant sinking sensation around his heart. Hermione was on her way here. "Gods Hermione," he groaned under his breath, "I didn't think it would be you."
"Wha'd you say, Mudblood Lover?"
Ron sneered with loathing at his captor. "I didn't say anything to you, ferret face."
Malfoy's eyes narrowed into thin slits. "You really are very stupid, Weaselbee." And helpless to do anything but tense his body for the blow, Ron watched the other boy draw his foot back and lash out by imbedding it in his chest.
All the air rushed out of him leaving him gasping in pain. There was a sharp stab in his side that worsened when he drew air into his lounges. He rolled onto his back, his body racked with a fit of cough. He clutched his side with his good hand and struggled to even out his breathing while Draco laughed from above.
"You bastard." Ron seethed through the pain.
The laughter died on Malfoy's lips, straightening into an evil sneer. Having finally lost all patience with Ron and his stubbornness, he squatted down in front of him and gripped him by the hair, wrenching his head up and giving it a slight shake when the red head refused to look at him. Ron bit his lip to keep from crying out but conceded to the other boy enough to look him in the eye.
"Why hasn't Potter left the school with the Mudblood?" He gave Ron's head another fierce shake for emphasis. "And why has it taken so long for your friends," he spat out the word like it tasted foul, "to come after you?"
Ron remained stubbornly mute.
"Speak Weasel!" When he remained silent Malfoy thrust him away sharply so that Ron's head made contact with the hard floor. The pale boy straightened to his full height and began pacing the room, his eyes never leaving Ron's weak and curled form. "Why haven't they come for you? You, Potter and the rest of your pathetic friends rushed after that fool Black without thinking twice. Why haven't Granger and Potter at least done the same? They've known you longer." He continued, growing more aggravated with the red heads determinedly impassive reaction and stony face. "Or…" his eyes gleamed with malice, "do you think they have perhaps realized what I have known all along? That you are a nothing. You will never be anything special to anyone…Not even that Mudblood, know-it-all Granger would have you." Draco stopped his pacing when he saw a flicker of emotion in Ron's eyes.
"Struck a nerve, did I?" He resumed his low crouch in front of Ron and lowered his voice to a taunting whisper. "Bet that bothers you, doesn't it? That she preferred some duck footed, scowl faced Bulgarian to you. But why wouldn't she? You're poor, you're ugly, you're pathetic in potions and transfiguration. You're stupid and worthless and you will never…never…amount to anything…Just like your father."
Ron's fingers reflexively tightened into a fist. Only the knowledge that retaliation would result in a thorough beating stilled his hand. Instead he forced his eyes to stare straight ahead as if he were looking through Malfoy and not at him.
Disappointed with Ron's lack of response, Malfoy straightened to his full height, "Clearly solitary confinement hast loosened your tongue." He turned on his heel and marched toward the door. "Perhaps it is time that we reinstitute our…information sessions. Oh," he stopped in the doorway, "did I forget to mention that my Aunt Belatrix has arrived." Ron's eyes flared with the first flicker of real fear in weeks. "Perhaps she has ways of making you talk that father and I never thought of."
And with that he quitted the room, leaving Ron alone to agonize over what sick tortures Belatrix Lestrange would use on him next as Draco's footsteps faded down the hall. He had thought of course, that the tortures the Malfoys had developed were agonizing, but he was certain they would be nothing compared to the twisted cruelty of their insane cousin.
He could feel the panic rising in his chest as the seconds ticked by. Any moment now he was certain he would hear the door open at the end of the long corridor outside his cell and she would come after him. And worse, he now had Hermione's safety to agonize over. She was out there somewhere unprotected, trying to find him. And there was no doubt in his mind that not a single Death Eater would spare her life if they came across her…not if they still had him tucked away in this hell they had provided.
He snapped back into the present with the sound of the door opening at the other end of the long corridor. His eyes flew to his own and his heart leapt into his throat. Due to his hasty retreat Draco had failed to confirm the door had latched and light was still spilling into his cell, letting in enough glow to see by.
This was his chance. He was never going to have another like it. Heart beating with the maddening speed of a racehorse, he rolled onto his knees and painfully crawled with as much speed as he could muster to the pile of hay sitting in the corner.
He kept his ears trained on the door and the sound of the voices growing distinctly closer as he reached the pile of hay and thrust his good hand to the bottom. He groped around frantically. He could hear every word they were saying now. Belatrix was describing to Draco and Lucious some of the methods she was planning on using on him. He physically blanched at her descriptions but forced her words out of his head so he could continue searching.
Finally his fingers grazed against the sheet of paper he was searching for and he had to bite down on his lip to keep from shouting with joy.
He pulled it free and flicked it open. It was upside down and he frantically flipped it over so that it was right side up. In the faint light he skimmed the tiny script until he found the line he was looking for. They were just outside his door when he felt the tug behind his navel and the familiar whoosh of air as he left his dungeon prison behind.
