Disclaimer: I don't own anything

Chapter Fourteen

Lucius sneered at the two kids in his grasp and pulled them forward, towards the fire. They didn't come easy, that was for damn sure—especially the Granger girl, who continued to kick like a mule—but Lucius' grasp was strong and he had no intention of letting them go.

"Get off of me!" Hermione snarled angrily, trying to rip her arm from Lucius' fingers. He only dug his nails deeper into her skin, causing Hermione to writhe under his grasp. Well he certainly was strong; she had to give him that. "You won't get away with this!" She snapped, this time with less ferocity. He merely laughed, dragging her along with him. In the other hand he clung to Ron's arm, although Ron was proving much less troublesome than Hermione.

"Oh really?" Lucius asked, genuinely interested in her logic. "And just how do you intend to get out of this one, may I ask? I know Dumbledore isn't here to save you, McGonagall doesn't have a clue as to where you are and as I recall, you are stricken with some type of malady, am I correct? Pray tell, how do you intend on getting out of this one?" Hermione scoffed although when he said it like that the situation sure didn't sound too promising.

"We've defeated Voldemort before—without Dumbledore or McGonagall or anyone else." Hermione grumbled despite the fact that the situation appeared pretty dismal. She tripped slightly over a tree branch. Lucius kept his grip strong on her arm, yanking her back to her feet.

"That was dumb luck—and mostly Potter's dumb luck I may add, and from the looks of it, he isn't here to save you two," Lucius drawled in an aggravated tone. Ron and Hermione looked around sharply, realizing that Harry wasn't around. He was just here, Hermione thought in surprise, glancing around the campsite. It wasn't just Harry that had disappeared though—the entire campground had vanished. The fire that Ron and Hermione had observed, the two Harry's hunched over; facing the flames, even the tent that had been near-deflated had all gone away as if the entire thing had been a mirage. Lucius laughed bitterly at the bewildered expressions of the two teens, pulling them along through the foliage.

"What the bloody hell happened?" Ron asked, despite his resolve to stay silent. He had been trying to form a plan to get Hermione and himself out of their current predicament, but even he was too surprised by the disappearance to contain his outburst. Lucius cast a quick glance towards Ron who until that minute had been the good one—the silent one—and sighed in distaste.

"It was a hallucinatory spell," Lucius said simply as if it should have been obvious before. When he still received silence from his two captives, Lucius smirked contentedly. Finally, he thought, casting an irritated glance towards Hermione. Hermione however showed no signs of being repressed.

"But that's necromancy," Hermione said finally, her brain spinning in a thousand directions. Lucius shrugged indifferently but Ron looked genuinely confused.

"What do you mean?" He asked as Lucius yanked them both through a narrow clearing of trees. He paused, glancing around as if trying to remember the way, and then continued on at the same pace. Hermione glanced across at Ron who was looking perplexed by her statement.

"Hallucinatory spells were outlawed by the Ministry when Voldemort was in power. They were being used to deceive people into thinking that they were seeing their friends and family betraying them; it was used to turn people against their loved ones. It also led to insanity, parents believing their own kids had turned against them and that type of thing. There had even been arguments to make it one of the unforgivable curses due to its horrific repercussions." Hermione explained. Lucius listened to her spiel, waiting until she had finished to add his piece.

"Well, well Granger, aren't you well read in such subjects?" He sneered. "Although apparently you are not so familiar with them so as to avoid them." Hermione fumed silently, looked away from his leering expression. The trio lapsed into an uncomfortable silence as they continued to trudge through the woods. Finally, Hermione heaved an exasperated groan.

"Where are you taking us anyway?" She demanded with renewed vigor after she realized that they had passed through the realm of familiarity long ago and now seemed to be wandering aimlessly. Lucius ignored her and continued plowing through the brush at breakneck pace. "Do you even know where you're going?" There was a hint of doubt in Hermione's tone that made Ron nervous. He knew she had been acting out of character lately, but she wouldn't deliberately egg Lucius on—right? Ron swallowed thickly, suddenly unsure. Lucius pitched a heavy sigh at Hermione's questions, as if it were a great burden to acknowledge her at all.

"Of course I know where we're going you insolent little brat," Lucius snarled. Then, as if to prove this, he stepped sharply over a log and up to a particularly large oak. A hole had been carved out of the trunk and inside sat a black bag. Ron and Hermione watched nervously as Lucius reached in, plucking out the bag as well as what looked like an old boot. Before either Ron or Hermione could comprehend what was happening, Lucius grabbed both of them and latched on to the boot; sending the three of them hurling through space.


Hermione and Ron landed in a painful heap on the cold stone floor of what appeared to be a dungeon. As they struggled to disentangle themselves and rise up from the hard stone, both noticed that Lucius had not only landed much more gracefully than they had, but also that he was staring intently towards a desk in the corner of the room. What the bloody hell is going on? Hermione asked herself, thoroughly confused. The whack her head had received upon landing was pounding furiously and she couldn't seem to fathom the situation. What is Malfoy going to do with us? Does he plan to kill us? What about Harry? Where is Harry? Have they already killed him? Is he okay? Where are we? Hermione absently raked her hand through her hair and rubbed her forehead. She could feel an egg-shaped bump rising on her forehead and winced as her fingers brushed over it. Glancing sideways, Hermione noticed Ron who seemed to be nursing his own wounds.

"It's about time." Hermione was surprised to see that even Lucius winced when the icy voice punctured the collective silence of the room. The three arrivals whipped around to the desk in the corner of the room, just in time to see Voldemort turning slowly in the chair. Could he be any more dramatic? Hermione wondered briefly, watching cynically as Voldemort slowly turned the chair until he was facing the three of them. An involuntary shiver raced up and down her spine.

Over the past few years Hermione had had many encounters with the dark lord, but never had she seen him up so close and looking so—whole. This time it wasn't just a voice or a host body that she was up against—it was the real man. If you can call him a man, Hermione mused to herself. He certainly didn't resemble anyone she had ever seen before. He was completely bald, his head like a bowling ball resting on his twig-like neck. He was so thin that Hermione could make out every bone and vein in his face, flitting awkwardly beneath his chartreuse skin with every movement. His eyes were dark and inky, murky orbs shadowed by his well-defined eyebrows, which were possibly the only bit of hair on his entire face. When he spoke it was soft and raspy, his words catching on eachother as if he couldn't quite spit them out completely. Hermione got the vague image of sandpaper rubbing against lace; the coarse texture catching and aggravating the delicate fabric. She didn't dare smile but she took a small victory in the fact that despite the fact that Voldemort now had a human form, he was in no way complete. His soul had been divided and destroyed so many times that he was no more than a breath of a man, desperately clinging onto a physical form.

"Stop your staring you impertinent imbecile," Voldemort hissed, yanking Hermione from her reveries. She stared boldly back at him, her face drawn up hard and impassive. Ron stared at her, overtaken by her audacity. He himself was practically doubled over in fear and there she was, having a face off with Voldemort. And for his part, Voldemort looked genuinely unsettled. His bony hand hovered temptingly over his robes where his wand was stashed, daring himself to curse the girl right then and there. No, not yet, he reminded himself, drawing his hand away. He glared at Lucius who had stepped back into a far corner of the room.

"What do you wish me to do, my Lord?" Lucius asked, anticipating the order he was about to receive before Voldemort had the chance to voice it.

"Take them away—throw them in with Potter until we're ready for them," Voldemort relayed briskly, waving his hand. Lucius nodded curtly and stepped up again, grasping Hermione and Ron's arms in his own. They winced in unison, cringing under the biting clutch of Lucius' hands. He yanked them sharply towards the door, bowing slightly to Voldemort before whisking the two down the dark corridor.


"Harry!" Hermione and Ron cried in unison when their eyes adjusted to the diffused lighting of the dungeon cell. They had landed roughly for the second time that morning, adding to their collection of bumps and bruises. It had taken a moment to familiarize themselves with their surroundings, but once they had what they found came as a welcomed surprise.

"Ron, Hermione—I didn't know what happened to you!" Harry yelled loudly, rushing over to Ron and Hermione.

"I was so worried about you two!" Ron and Hermione jumped as another form rose from the shadows. It wasn't just another form either—it was another Harry.

"What is going on?" Ron asked loudly, his voice a few octaves higher than normal. His eyes were flicking wildly from one Harry to the next, trying to decipher something—anything—that might help him differentiate from his friend and the intruder.

"Don't listen to him—I'm the real Harry," the first one said emphatically, gesturing towards himself. Hermione stepped closer to Ron, clutching his arm. She leaned in close, whispering softly so neither Harry would hear.

"Its part of the hallucinatory spell—one of them is the one from the cliff and one is the real Harry," Hermione explained in rushed whispers. Ron nodded, taking this in.

"How do we tell which is the real Harry and which is the mirage?" He asked in equally hushed tones. There was a pause where Ron was distinctly aware of the penetrating looks from both of the Harry's. Finally, he felt Hermione sigh, her warm breath raising the hairs on the back of Ron's neck.

"We don't," she said simply. "We might be able to tell in the light—because of the eyes—but in the darkness it's nearly impossible. They're perfectly identical." Ron glanced between the two curiously in an attempt to decipher a difference. Finding none, he sighed dejectedly.

"Ron, Hermione—it's me, Harry," the one closest to Ron said. Ron glanced at him carefully. It sure looked like Harry, but then again, so did the other one who was rushing to offer his plea.

"Come on you guys, you have to believe me, we've been friends for years, don't tell me you don't know your own friend." He regarded Hermione and Ron with disbelief, as if he was shocked that they wouldn't be able to recognize him. Ron took a step back and Hermione moved right along with him. It was no use though; both Harry's advanced along with them.

"You have to know me you guys—you have to believe me! It's me—Harry!"

"I'm Harry—honestly, I can't believe my own friends don't recognize me!"

"You are not the real Harry—I'm the real Harry!" Ron leaned back so that his mouth was next to Hermione's ear.

"How are we going to figure out who is who?" He hissed nervously. He had a feeling that if they didn't figure out which one was the real Harry soon they would all be in trouble.

"I guess we just have to use our best judgment," Hermione supposed fretfully, her eyes darting between the two Harry's.

"Ron—I've spent my summers at the Burrow with you and your family for the past few years. I considered you my brother. And Hermione—we've been through so much together. You have to believe me—I'm the real Harry!" The Harry closest to Ron pleaded. Hermione and Ron exchanged nervous glances. The other Harry sighed heavily.

"Listen you guys—you have to understand—I am the real Harry. You have to believe me." Hermione bit her lip, glancing between the two boys. Ron leaned back towards her again.

"Hermione—how are we going to figure this out—?"

"—Petrificus Totalus!" Hermione shrieked suddenly, sending a blast of light from her wand hurtling towards the Harry closest to Ron. Ron fell back, stunned.

"What was that?" Ron bellowed, still shocked over what Hermione had done. "What did you just do?" Hermione herself appeared a little surprised by her actions. Her arm was frozen in the air, poised for action, and her eyes were wide with disbelief.

"I don't know!" Hermione confessed, her voice squeaky and nervous. The Harry that she had attacked was lying frozen on the ground, little murmurs of pain escaping his lips. Ron guessed that it was more from smacking the stone floor head on rather than the actual spell. Still, he didn't have much experience in the latter area, so he couldn't be sure.

"How did you know he was the imposter?" Ron pressed, his voice still loud and disbelieving. Hermione shook her head.

"I didn't know—I had a feeling!" She admitted, waving her arms frantically. Ron's mouth fell open in alarm.

"You just—you just fired off a spell, devil-may-care? You guessed?" Hermione held up her hands as if to show how her action was obviously not premeditated.

"I don't know—I had a feeling I guess. Call it a woman's intuition," she said meekly, trying to justify her rash action.

"A feeling? You had a bloody feeling? Hermione—that woman's intuition better be bloody faultless, otherwise you may have just paralyzed our best friend!" Ron yelled, near hysterics. His voice had gone up several octaves and now surpassed Hermione's by several notes. Hermione shrugged.

"I don't know how accurate it is! I just—," Hermione's voice dropped immediately as she noticed something happening to the afflicted-Harry's body. It almost appeared to be—disappearing. "Ron—look," Hermione said, pointing to the body. Now there was no doubt about it; even in the dark it was obvious that the body was slowly fading before them, the color ebbing away as the form gradually disintegrated.

"You were right—Hermione you picked the right one," Ron said incredulously, grasping onto Hermione's arm. She watched the body dissolve slowly, still dubious of her own actions. "Oh gods Hermione—you really did it," Ron continued, pulling Hermione into an impromptu embrace, drawing her close. She was so caught off guard that she didn't even fight it when rather than Ron's arms catching her it was his lips, pressed firmly against hers. She inhaled sharply, taking in Ron's scent which now leaned less towards molasses and sweets and more towards sweat and dirt. Still, Hermione found herself unexplainably drawn to it. Her hands moved instinctively to Ron's head as she laced her fingers through his unruly locks. When she felt Ron's own hands come to rest heavily on her waist Hermione couldn't help the flutter in her heart. She was just leaning in, fully immersing herself in the embrace when an awkward cough brought both of them back to their senses. Even in the darkness that the dungeon afforded the discomfort in Harry's voice was apparent.

"Uh, you guys—I'm still here."


"Get up—all of you—we're ready."

Harry, Ron and Hermione all blinked charily as light from the outside flooded into the dungeon like a tidal wave, catching everything in its destructive grasp. Since the destruction of the false Harry, the trio had been catching up on everything that they had missed out on. Harry had explained his capture—the night that he had shared his qualms regarding Ron's affections—and told of how he had been held ever since. Everything about finding the Horocrux, going on the mission to find them, climbing the cliff—all of it had been with the fake Harry. The real Harry had been captured the night that Hermione discovered about Ron's love potion, and had since been kept in the dungeon with little human contact at all. Every so often he said how Lucius or another henchman came in, usually with a cutting remark, but with food nonetheless. As Wormtail had explained on his first—and only—visit was that they didn't want to kill him—not just yet anyway. They wanted to make him suffer, as he had done to them for so many years.

Hermione and Ron for their part described what had been happening in Harry's absence. They told him about the fake Harry coming in with the Horocrux idea and their trek to the cliffs as well as the near-fatal fall ("I'll kill him—I'll kill all of them!" Harry had practically screamed when Hermione had told him about the fall). Hermione had told him all about how the love potion had seemingly worn off of Ron and, in Lucius' words, had "changed hands". Both Hermione and Ron had conveniently left out the parts in which they threw themselves at eachother, but they didn't think they were all that relevant. Not to mention the fact that Harry had already been privy to one of those moments and probably guessed that their adventure thus far hadn't been entirely pure.

"I said get up," Lucius snarled impatiently, leering distastefully as the three stumbled towards the doorway. After days of waiting for the trio to be complete, after hours of creating the perfect plan, finally—finally—things were ready to be put into action. "Follow me," Lucius continued, walking promptly down the hallway. The trio followed tepidly, dragging tiredly behind Lucius' timely jaunt.

After a lengthy march up countless stairways and dozens of corridors, the group finally reached what Hermione guessed must have been similar to the astronomy tower at school. It had to be by far one of the tallest towers in the mansion, and although she figured Professor Trelawney wasn't inside, or several student desks for that matter, she had a feeling that it would be somewhat like the classroom. When they entered, she realized that she was right.

The room was large and circular, and like the rest of the mansion, composed entirely of large, gray stone plates. Around the walls, three large openings were cut into the rock, allowing for three panels of luminescent moonlight to stream in, illuminating the space with a chilling glow. Below one of the windows a desk was set up, cleared of all things save for a wand that rested in the center. Surrounding the desk were several cloaked figures, huddled in the shadows, and, as could only be assumed, sitting at the desk in the middle of all of them, was Voldemort himself.

"Finally, the three of us meet again," Voldemort hissed, his eyes flicking from Ron to Hermione until finally he rested them on Harry and Harry alone. "I assume your stay has been pleasant?" His tone was taunting and harsh, but Harry paid him little attention.

"What do you want?" Harry snarled at him with more maturity and audacity than either Hermione or Ron had ever seen. Voldemort himself seemed undaunted by this show of maturity and merely smirked indifferently.

"I think you know what I want Potter." Voldemort spat out coolly, unflinching in his delivery. Hermione watched the give and take with the slight feeling of being in a bad made-for-TV-movie. It was all too surreal, too impossible. Just a few days ago her biggest problem had been whether or not Ron really liked her, and now she was facing off—once again—with Voldemort and his motley crew of deatheaters.

"What are you going to do to us?" Hermione asked, genuinely curious. She too was surprised at how bold her tone was. Maybe we've become immune to him, Hermione mused silently, it isn't like we've never come into contact with him over the past few years. I mean, sure he can easily wipe out the three of us with one wave of his hand, but he hasn't succeeded yet. Maybe we're going to be okay, Hermione thought as Voldemort smiled viciously. Hermione cringed. Then again, maybe he's just going to kill us now.

"To you Miss Granger? I fully intend to leave you and Mr. Weasley completely alone. The love potion will take care of you two in time. Now Potter on the other hand, I cannot make the same promise. Potter is mine." Hermione had to admit to her own surprise. Not to mention being genuinely curious about the love potion. It will take care of me 'in time'? What does that mean? And what is this 'changing hands' business? I don't feel like I'm under a love spell. I feel like I always have for Ron. Granted I've been a little more aggressive and physical with my feelings, but this isn't like the symptoms that I read about in McGonagall's books. What kind of love spell is this? And what is he going to do to Harry? Hermione's thoughts spread into a thousand different directions and as hard as she tried she couldn't focus on any one of them.

"What do you mean the potion will 'take care of us in time'? What kind of love potion is this?" Ron asked suddenly, and his question mirrored Hermione's own thoughts so perfectly that she wondered briefly if it was her asking the questions. Voldemort laughed (maybe laugh was too strong a word. Laughter implies joviality and the sound Voldemort made was anything but jovial. It was just plain creepy) and leaned back nonchalantly in his chair.

"Lucius," he said finally, an air of casualty in his tone. "It seems that our guests (he gestured to the trio) seem to want an explanation about the love potion. As it was really your doing, would you care to clarify the details?" Lucius, who had moved over with the others deatheaters over the course of the confrontation dropped the hood of his cloak and stepped into the moonlight. Under the pallid illumination his face was contorted into what looked like a less intense version of his master. There were a few choice differences; his luminescent hair for one, as well as the color and depth of his own eyes, but other than that, the resemblance was uncanny. Hermione wondered vaguely whether it was like that for all of the deatheaters; over time they had come to mirror their master in ways other than just their minds and ideas.

"Of course my Lord," Lucius accepted respectfully, looking straight at Ron and Hermione as he spoke. "I must admit that my original intention was warped, although it in no way has come to failure. I concocted the potion with the help of my son and distributed it to Mister Weasley on the night that you three were in Hogsmeade. Originally the potion was supposed to drive Weasley mad with temptation at not being able to differentiate between his actual love for Miss Granger and the lust induced by the spell. What I didn't count on was Miss Granger reciprocating the feelings and although that mixed a few things up, it did not ruin the overall effect in the least." Lucius turned to address Hermione.

"You see, when you responded positively to Mister Weasley's feelings, the potion crossed over to you—,"

"Because it was looking for a suitable host!" Hermione cried excitedly, realization suddenly dawning on her. When Ron and Harry exchanged bewildered looks, Hermione rushed to explain. "The whole purpose of a love potion is to drive the host-body mad with desire. When it realized that Ron's affections were returned, it moved on to me, in the hopes that Ron wouldn't return my feelings. That way it can serve its purpose."

"Exactly," Lucius snapped, sounding more than a little miffed at being cut off by Hermione. "Now, we just have to wait for the spell to root itself within Miss Granger and both Granger and Weasley will suffer the consequences. So really Mr. Potter, you are the only one we need to deal with." Harry looked up, his face white behind his dark glasses.

"You won't get away with this," Harry warned, "McGonagall will have sent out people to search for us the second she realized we were all gone." Lucius laughed.

"Don't be daft, even if she did send out people in search of you three, pray tell how exactly she will manage to find you? Do you think we marked our trail? I hate to burst your bubble, but we forgot to place the flashing arrow above the mansion." Lucius sneered snidely, stepping back to join the league of deatheaters.

"McGonagall has ways of finding us—and the Aurors too! They know we wouldn't just disappear!" Harry returned passionately. Lucius sighed heavily.

"By the time any of them even realize you are here, you will be dead."

"You seem to have forgotten that you haven't succeeded in that venture yet," Harry snapped back, and Hermione could see his hands clenching in rage. She wondered briefly how Harry intended on fighting back this time. Instinctively, Hermione reached into her tattered robes, feeling around for her own wand. She assumed that Harry's wand had been stripped from him upon arrival, as she had heard Lucius instruct Wormtail to do to Ron and herself. Wormtail however had been so preoccupied in taunting the new arrivals that he had completely forgotten to remove their wands at all. With Harry though, Hermione was positive that Voldemort himself had taken the wand away, to ensure that the plan continued smoothly. If he's fired upon, he has no way to protect himself, Hermione thought nervously. I guess Ron and I will have to block for him until he gets a means of protection, Hermione supposed fretfully.

"Enough of all this frippery!" Voldemort demanded harshly, annoyed by the heated exchange between Potter and his most faithful henchman. "I got you this time and I won't let you slip between my fingers!" He cried, standing up so quickly that his chair fell out behind him. In a flash, his hand shot out to get the wand on his desk and Hermione barely had enough time to shout a deflecting spell before Voldemort's "Cruciatus!" rang out across the room. Voldemort looked slightly stunned by Hermione's deflection but recovered quickly, turning furiously to one of the cloaked figures.

"Pettigrew!" He fumed accusingly as the form fell helplessly at his feet.

"I'm so sorry master—I'm so sorry! I meant to take away their wands—I did, but I got distracted—,"

"Silence you worthless imbecile! I'll deal with you later!" Voldemort sneered so viciously that it left no doubt in anyone's mind that he would follow through on that threat. He turned back to the trio who were now frantically conferring amongst themselves over how to deal with the situation.

"Ron—you and I should both attack him at the same time—Harry you should stay back until you have some means of protection!" Hermione said quickly but Ron shook his head.

"If we attack him, he'll have his deatheaters firing off spells so fast that we'll be dead before we even know what's happening. Then Harry will be left completely alone." Harry leaned in close to his friends.

"The deatheaters won't fire on us unless they had Voldemort's permission, and he's much too prideful for that. He'll want to kill us on his own," Harry assured them as another spell was fired at the trio. Ron shot off the deflection for this one, catching it inches above Hermione's back.

"Whatever we do, we need to figure it out quickly," Ron said and Hermione and Harry shook their heads in agreement.

"Well I had intended on letting the love spell have its way with you two, but clearly you wish to die much sooner," Voldemort said, walking around the desk. He kept his distance from the trio, but his presence was suffocating nevertheless. They quickly broke apart, eyeing their captor suspiciously. "Grab them!" He ordered suddenly and before the trio could assess the situation, the deatheaters had sprung into action, grasping each tightly. Hermione kicked violently in an attempt to free herself, staring hatefully at Voldemort.

"Let us go!" She demanded lamely as her wand was stripped from her. What do I expect him to do, just let us go because I told him to? How lame is that? Hermione thought angrily. She saw that Ron too had lost his to his subjugator and felt a sinking in her stomach as she realized that all three of them were unarmed. Voldemort smirked maniacally, turning to Lucius.

"Lucius, it seems we are faced with the added bonus of having three to kill tonight rather than the one in which we had anticipated. Since I only care that the Potter boy expires at my hands, I think that this would be the perfect opportunity for your son to prove his loyalty." Hermione's mouth dropped open suddenly as one of the cloaked figures stepped forward, letting the hood fall from his head. Despite the poor lighting there was no denying that the boy who stood in front of her was Draco.

Draco stared at his classmates hesitantly. It wasn't as if he felt any sort of compassion or friendliness towards them. On the contrary, Draco fully despised every one of them. Sill, he couldn't quite bring himself to kill Weasley and Granger in cold blood. This is what you've been trained for, he reminded himself, taking another step towards them. This is what you've worked for. You are finally going to be accepted, and you can finally get rid of that pesky weasel and the know-it-all. Draco bit his lip diffidently, willing himself to act and soon. He clutched the dagger that his father had pressed into his palm a moment earlier, gathering his courage. He stepped towards Hermione, deciding to kill her first. It hadn't been something that he had really thought out or anything, it was more instinctual that he stepped towards her, his mother's insistent reminder echoing through his head, ladies first. Hermione's eyes widened in the moonlight, the fear evident. Draco wished that he could stop. This right here is what I really want, he thought to himself, I only ever wanted power over them—the ability to scare them, as I have now. I never wanted to kill them. Still, Draco knew he had no choice, as the other deatheaters were watching him expectantly, waiting for him to make a move. He swallowed hard, reaching out to catch Hermione's hair in his fist. He knew the procedure—one thrust straight through the heart. She was supposed to be watching him the entire time, focused on her killer—hence the hair-grabbing. Only when Draco caught her by her wild mane he paused a moment too long. Before he could comprehend what was happening, Hermione's leg shot out, clipping Draco in the knees and sending him sprawling. He felt her grab the knife from him, catching hold of him by his neck.

"Let Ron and Harry go or Draco dies," Hermione warned, although her threats fell on deaf ears. The other deatheaters seemed to chuckle indifferently at her intimidation.

"Go ahead and kill him—he probably would have met the same fate anyway," Voldemort said with a shrug, his eyes trained on Harry. Realizing that her warning was useless, Hermione pushed Draco away and lunged suddenly for Ron's captor, catching him right about where she supposed his face would be, although with the cloak on it was nearly impossible. The chilling screech of agony that came from the captor proved that her guesses were correct however, affording Ron a small window in which he could not only escape, but recover his stolen wand as well. Hermione drew the knife from the deatheater, cringing slightly at the ruby red blood that decorated the blade.

"Stupefy!" Ron cried suddenly, hurling the spell straight at Voldemort, who managed to avoid it in the knick of time. The other deatheaters raised their wands to retaliate in the name of their lord, but Voldemort held up his hand to stop them.

"No!" He bellowed, "You might hit Potter—the first person to fire against them will suffer instant death!"

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione and Ron cried in unison, sending the spell towards Voldemort. He avoided it once more, sending a pile of books towards them that they had not realized was there until they were hurtling through the air.

"Reducto!" Hermione yelled, just in time. The books turned sharply away from Ron and Hermione, landing in a heap on the floor. "Ron—we have to get him—now!" Hermione said urgently, as both Ron and herself sent a series of spells and curses flying towards Voldemort. He was hit by a few but managed to avoid the more extreme ones, ducking protectively against one of the stone walls.

"My Lord, you have to let us intervene—at least with Weasley and Granger!" Lucius tried to appeal to Voldemort, who shook his head petulantly.

"No—I can handle them! Stay where you are!" He hissed, only to be hit unsuspectingly by Hermione's rushed, "Expelliarmus". Voldemort blinked, stunned as his wand shot from his hand to Hermione who grabbed it immediately and passed it over to Harry who had managed to struggle free from his captor. Harry took it, blinking for a minute before realizing that it was the same as his. I knew that had to come in handy some day, Harry thought to himself, recalling how surprised he had been his first year when the trip to Ollivander's had proved that he was connected to the dark lord in more ways than one. The trio, newly armed, faced their opponents with a renewed air of superiority. They knew that even without his wand Voldemort was undeniably powerful, but when faced with the three of them their chances were much better. Not to mention the fact that none of the deatheaters dared to cast anything against them, frozen with the fear of Voldemort's wrath.

"Morsmordre!" Ron cried suddenly, brandishing his own wand towards the roof. An eerie green light shot out of the end, and Hermione and Harry stared in awe at Ron. Even Voldemort and the deatheaters seemed to be in shock. They were all looking back and forth at eachother as if waiting for an order that they all know would never come. Hermione however was the only one to voice her incredulousness.

"Do you realize what you just did?" She demanded, shocked by the seeming rashness of his actions. Is he a fake too? Is the real Ron locked away somewhere? She wondered frantically but Ron merely shrugged.

"Well it isn't quite a flashing arrow," he began with a smile, "but I think that McGonagall and the Aurors will get the hint."