Chapter Twenty-Five
Razorback
Harry Potter was not a person to be trifled with.
About four seconds after Harry and Minnie returned from the destruction of Merlin's Orb, Harry's heightened magical sense alerted him to the presence of another magical being near his room. Casually glancing around the hall, he saw no particular indication of a being. However, between superlative magical, sensory, and legilimantic perimeter charms, Harry quickly surmised that the being in question was extremely small, was currently hiding in a crevice near his door and was radiating a whole lot of anxiety. To Harry, it all told a story of a certain rat.
So, with a casual wave of his wand, which he drew with lightning speed, he summoned the creature as he opened the door to his room, not even bothering to look its way as it flew past him, squeaking in surprised terror as it thudded softly against the far wall, the flab on its abdomen cushioning its fall. Harry calmly locked the door and asked that Minnie take a seat at the bed and remain there; she, naturally obliged, eyeing the rat curiously.
"Transform, Peter," Harry instructed, a hint of weariness in his voice. Mostly he just wanted a bath, even though he had been expecting some sort of a welcoming party after his display of bravado the day before. He had actually expected something a lot more... confrontational, which made Harry wonder what kind of information the Dark Lord was looking for by spying on Harry. Certainly he would never send Wormtail to confront Harry head on in light of the life debt, and Harry highly doubted that the life debt was something Wormtail would have been able to occlude from Voldemort's legilimancy probes.
Wormtail's feelings of anxiety slowly transmuted to fear as he watched Harry from the floor, still trying to pretend to be a rat.
Good grief, Harry thought. What kind of an idiot are you? Then, in a tone that brook no argument, Harry said, "Wormtail, I can see your hand. Transform now, or I will be forced to torture you." In truth, Harry supposed he could have forced the transformation, much like Remus and Sirius had done back in his third year, but he was feeling distinctly uncharitable to the one who betrayed his parents. Worse, he was feeling somewhat insulted that the man wouldn't even show himself, either thinking he was protected in his rat form, or thinking that Harry would be so stupid as to let his guard down.
Still, Wormtail did not transform, which caused Harry to simply shrug. "Suit yourself," he muttered before saying, "Crucio." The little grey rat's eyes positively bulged out of its head at the sight of the amber light that approached. Clearly, Pettigrew did not believe that Harry would dispense such a virulent curse upon his enemy. The spell hit the little rat, who promptly began writhing on the floor, flailing its pudgy little arms and squeaking in a manner most unbecoming of a rat. After about half a minute, Harry lifted the curse and politely invited the Death Eater to transform, which, after a few moments to collect himself, he did, eliciting a muffled gasp from Minnie, who hadn't really been able to quite follow the one-sided conversation that Harry was having with the mangy rodent.
Peter was still shuddering from the effects of the Cruciatus, but Harry spared him little time to recover. "Who sent you?" he asked, curious as to whether the rat referred to Voldemort as the Dark Lord or as You-Know-Who.
Peter did not respond, instead continuing to shake.
Harry's sensory perimeter charm was so refined that he could tell from it that Peter's shaking had turned from erratic to rhythmic, suggesting to Harry that he was indeed now faking it, again in an attempt to lure Harry into a false sense of security. Harry blew out a long sigh as he made a show of looking around the room, lowering his wand slightly to give Wormtail a perceived opportunity to pounce, which, he in fact took.
Silently, Wormtail jumped to his feet and, in a fluid motion, extracted his wand and sent two powerful stunners at Harry, confident that one would vaporize his shield and the second would hit him dead on. As they crossed the short space between the two apparent duellers, Wormtail saw to his delight that Harry was neither moving nor raising a shield, and only briefly stopped to consider how odd that was, since he remembered the boy having better reflexes than that. So, it was decidedly unnerving to the Death Eater animagus when one stunner fizzled out and disappeared halfway to Harry and the other was simply blocked by Harry's hand.
"I see there's really no reasoning with you, is there?" Harry asked sadly, and then, as if coming out of a daze, he shook his head. "I had hoped, you being the last Marauder and all... Ah well, never mind that." Harry flicked his wand and immediately Wormtail was bound with barbed wire and gagged with a naked Malibu Barbie doll stuffed between his clenched teeth, which the Death Eater promptly spat out.
"You'll never get me to talk, Harry. I'm sorry." Wormtail's resolve seemed rather sincere, making Harry laugh.
"Funny you should show such loyalty to him," Harry mused, levitating the doll and stuffing it back into Wormtail's mouth, despite the Death Eater's vehement protestations. "The thing is, you need not say a word for me to extract all the information I need. After which I'll most likely kill you." Harry applied a sticking charm to the doll so that Wormtail couldn't spit it out again, and then he proceeded to incant, just for good measure, "Legilimans."
The spell connected with Wormtail head on, and Harry found himself delving through the myriad of memories of what was a rather feebly protected mind. Executing a legilimantic assault that Snape would have been envious of, Harry brutally rummaged through his memories and eviscerated his mind's defenses in the process, swiftly and efficiently extracting all the pertinent information regarding Voldemort's plans that had occurred since Wormtail met the Dark Lord in that forest so long ago. When he was done, he exited cleanly and smoothly, leaving Wormtail dazed and, more importantly, realizing for the first time the true power of the Boy-Who-Lived. His head still fuzzy from the attack, Wormtail's eyes merely expressed the question, Who are you?
But Harry wasn't really paying attention. He was quickly assimilating the information he had extracted, cataloguing and prioritizing and planning. "Interesting," he muttered. "So the Dark Lord uses extreme mental trauma to undo memory charms. I didn't know you could do that. Unfortunately, a particularly powerful charm tends to turn the victim's mind to mush. Bertha Jorkins." Harry turned to Wormtail and, after staring at him for a long time, all the while thinking, he finally shrugged, and said, "What the hell. Why not?" He knew it probably wasn't the most strategically advantageous move he could make. Still, it seemed like fun, and he felt he deserved a bit of that; especially since it seemed like the most fitting end for the traitor.
"I've decided not to kill you," Harry said, effecting a conciliatory smile.
You're not? Wormtail's eyes seemed to say, a rather disbelieving and yet naively hopeful expression on his face.
"I'm many things, Wormtail, but a liar is not one of them." Harry walked right up to the traitor and knelt so that he was at eye level, his face just inches from the man that betrayed his parents. "Let me tell you instead what I plan to do. I plan to memory charm you with the most powerful memory charm on Earth, and then I'm going to send you to your master under the imperius. Of course he'll recognize signs of the unforgiveable instantly and I'm willing to bet the first thing he'll do is check you over by rifling through your memory. Tell me, do you know what he's going to find?"
Wormtail shook his head, but the expression of dawning horror told Harry he understood it wasn't going to be anything good.
Harry merely continued, "He's going to find that memory charm, and he's going to wonder just what the hell is locked away in it." Harry now smiled a cold, cruel, Marv-esque smile, before saying, "And we know what he does to undo memory charms, don't we?"
Ah, Wormtail began to understand, as was evidenced by the rapid fire shaking of his head.
"Relax, you're going to give yourself whiplash." Harry then hit Wormtail with the immobilization charm before looking directly into his eyes and saying in a stern tone that dripped with unrestrained power. "Lord Voldemort, listen well. If you are seeing this memory, then you have clearly mutilated one of your servants. An act for which I am eternally grateful to you for. I trust you understand just what place in my heart I hold this particular piece of vermin. Ergo, I thank you. I also want to let you know that I am coming for you. You've been warned." Harry then stood and walked away from Wormtail until he was a good five feet from him. He then turned around, and, using that same controlled voice and focus that made him eerily like Albus Dumbledore, he said aloud, "Obliviate." White light crackled from his wand and hit Wormtail's still body, Harry letting a torrent of energy flow from his body, his mind focusing the magic to wipe out all Wormtail's memories from his capture up to the present. When Harry was satisfied, he ended the spell, Wormtail looking that much more dazed than before, at which point Harry said, "You found you couldn't get into the room and so you waited and then left, when I didn't return after a day." Satisfied with the flimsy excuse that Harry knew Voldemort totally wouldn't buy, Harry then pointed his wand at Wormtail yet again and said, "Imperio." Now under the curse, Harry merely sent him on his way, instructing Peter to transform into the rat and sending him out the door and into the darkness beyond. Back to his master.
Harry then proceeded to flop down on the bed, stretching out his arms and back and letting the waves of fatigue from the day's exertions wash over him. Peripherally, he was aware that Minnie was eyeing him intently, and he could feel a bit of unease coming from her. "You okay?" he asked, still keeping his eyes closed as he enjoyed the moment of tranquility.
For a minute, Harry wondered if she weren't going to respond, if perhaps she were too deeply ensconced in whatever thought she was having, but then she did speak and it surprised him. "You're scary," she said quietly, looking down as if ashamed, or possibly fearful of attracting his wrath.
Harry, feeling like this might be an important subject, turned over on his side and looked up at her. He adopted a more serious expression to show that he was intent on having a meaningful discussion. "Go on," he commanded.
"I don't know," she replied instantly, keeping her gaze averted, her fingers idly picking at a stray thread on the duvet. Harry reached over and laid his hand down on top of hers and said in as soothing a tone as he could muster, "It's okay to be afraid of someone with a lot of power. Fear is a natural response, you know. A lot of people were afraid of my old school headmaster. There was this one person - her name was Bellatrix Lestrange. She positively wet herself when he walked into the room." At that image, Minnie cracked a smile.
"that's funny," she said, and then her smile dissipated and she asked in a more serious tone. "Were you afraid of him too?"
Harry considered that question. Had he ever been afraid of Dumbledore? No, not really, he supposed, though at the end of his fourth year, he recognized that Dumbledore deserved the praise and respect people gave him. He was rather formidable. "I think I was more in awe of him. It was like, yeah I knew he had all this power, but I also trusted him a lot too. He was bad to my enemies, but he was kind to me."
"Weren't you ever afraid that maybe he might see you as an enemy? What if you ever pissed him off, you know?" There was something in the tone of her voice that told Harry this question seemed to be really important to her, and Harry wondered momentarily what in her experiences, her memories, urged her to ask.
"I think that part of trusting people is having that sort of faith that they wouldn't hurt you. I suppose I learned over the years what it took to be an enemy, to piss him off, and I knew I would never do or be any of those things," Harry said carefully.
"It's like a contract," Minnie said, also choosing her words with great deliberateness.
"Yeah," Harry agreed, thinking that the analogy sounded good. "It's like a contract."
"And he never broke it."
"He never did," Harry said, and then, upon further reflection decided that he'd probably violated a few minor terms during fifth year, but decided that these weren't terribly important to bring up, since his relationship with Albus had always been rather complicated.
"Can we have a contract, Harry?" she asked, now looking up at him for the first time. Harry knew that this was really important to her.
He merely nodded.
"Good," she said.
"So what kind of terms do you want?" Harry asked, thinking he already knew.
"I don't want you to hurt me," she replied. "Ever. I don't want to be afraid of you."
"Okay," he said slowly. "I can do that. I promise I won't hurt you."
"Okay," she agreed, seeming to take him at his word.
"And what kind of terms do I get to impose upon you?" he asked in a playful tone, attempting to break the sobriety that had descended upon them.
Minnie, however, either did not notice or simply ignored his jest and replied in the same, uncharacteristically serious voice, "I'll do anything."
"Anything?" Harry repeated, surprised, his mind flitting through a myriad of the most bizarre things he could think of. What kind of term is that? he wondered idly.
"yeah, anything," she agreed, still not acknowledging the incredulity that was in his tone.
Eventually, he said, 'Okay. Anything it is."
With that issue laid to rest, both of them crawled into bed, still in their day clothes, and quickly fell asleep, not even bothering with dinner. In the morning, Harry would conjure them a crazy huge meal with eggs benedict, bacon, pancakes and pureed fruit and toast and cottage cheese, oatmeal, apples, oranges and papaya, along with a sampling of nuts, including cashews, almonds and walnuts.
Three hours after Wormtail's return, two and a half of which were spent torturing Wormtail into insanity, Lord Voldemort finally broke the memory charm that had been placed upon him. What he found did not please him. No, sir, it did not please him one bit. The boy had cast the cruciatus and the imperius within five minutes of one another, and he talked as though he were perfectly comfortable casting the killing curse. That alone didn't bother him. It was more that his estimation of Harry didn't jive with the memories he was seeing. So contradictory was it, that Voldemort gave serious thought to the notion that the person who tortured Wormtail was not Harry Potter but somebody under a glamour or polyjuice. Still, Harry's parting words spoke so acutely of Wormtail's treachery, that whoever it was would have to have been working in concert with the brat. Worse yet, Lord Voldemort had taken the time to peruse Wormtail's memories of his attempts to penetrate Potter's room. That coupled with the few images he received, indicated that somebody rather powerful had warded that room. Somebody ludicrously powerful in fact.
Unless the memories he saw weren't real. After having turned Wormtail's mind to mush, leaving the broken rat animagus gibbering on the floor, tears and blood leaking out of his eyes as he continued to convulse from the after effects of prolonged cruciatus exposure, among other things - there was just no way he could discern a real memory from a fake one.
Nagini looked up into her master's eyes and hissed, "The simplest explanation is most often the correct one. You may have to assume that the boy has developed extraordinary abilities."
"Quite right," said Lord Voldemort, still looking off into space. "Still, I cannot help but wonder. I must at least keep all possibilities open, lest I lose focus. Wormtail had great value to me. It is regrettable that I have lost him this way." He then cast the imperius on the man and sent him to go crawl into a corner and remain unobtrusive.
Lord Voldemort, listen well. If you are seeing this memory, then you have clearly mutilated one of your servants. An act for which I am eternally grateful to you for. I trust you understand just what place in my heart I hold this particular piece of vermin. Ergo, I thank you. I also want to let you know that I am coming for you. You've been warned.
Harry's words played over and over in the Dark Lord's mind, he turning them over as though it were a puzzle that was meant to be solved. I am coming for you. You have been warned. Normally, he would have dismissed the words as mere bravado, especially when they were coming from Harry Potter, who by Snape's account was a quintessential Gryffindor. Still, the brat had spoken them as though it were a certainty that they would meet, as though he were confident he knew where to find him. Lord Voldemort, put to unrest by those words, opted to go personally check on the wards that guarded Technoparc, if for no other reason than for his own peace of mind.
Hermione was really angry. She had been for some time - ever since the fiasco at Crabbe Manor, after which she had been carried off by Azrael, who had been too weak to do anything more than hobble along, often coughing up blood as he dragged her unconscious body to a place of sanctuary where she could recuperate. That night was supposed to be her grand opening, her debut concert. It was supposed to go off without a hitch, and it would have, if Ronald Weasley had not gotten in her way.
Ronald Weasley. Still, after nearly three months of quiet contemplation, she still could not get over the irony of it all. How could a Quidditch-obsessed, blundering twit of a wizard, whose organizing principle throughout his academic career could be characterized by the one word, "mediocrity" - how could that person have stood up against her, against all her superior skills and intellects, transformations and achievements. How is it that fate allowed him to even be there? Pah, it wasn't fair. It wasn't bloody fair at all; not one bit.
Hermione kicked a dead rabbit out of her way as she stomped around the forest, murdering anything that caught her attention. Oh sure, she'd been patched up all right. Azrael's blood had phenomenal healing qualities, much like phoenix tears. Her arm was as good as new, her range of motion was perfect, her hair and eyes and skin remained toned and flawless. Her hair had not reverted to that accursed bushiness that had always plagued her. Despite all that, something deep within her had been wounded. Something that couldn't be healed.
I'll show them, she thought fiercely, her teeth clenched together in her wild rage. I'll show them all.
Grabbing her things, she took off for Technoparc, Azrael in tow, bent on proving once and for all that she was the biggest and the baddest on the block.
Ron and Sue were quietly having a game of chess in the Huffelpuff common room, both of them subtly trying to shade their eyes from the garishly yellow walls. Apparently it was a Jackson Pollock nouveau art thing that a Huffelpuff had adopted in the late seventies, and, as a testament to their continuing solidarity, Huffelpuffs for generations elected to keep it despite the fact that it was a significant contributing factor to the myopia that plagued many graduates of the house.
"Check," Sue said, her eyes riveted to the board, her gaze searing the offending squares that Ron had slowly been taking. They were into their third hour of play, the Gryffindor resident chess master playing the Ravenclaw resident chess master. Neither of them were prepared to budge an inch, both prepared to play well into the night if need be. Stamina, after all, was just another part of the game.
"Get a clock," Terry muttered as he passed by, the scent of his new cologne indicating that he was heading out to see Katie. Neither of the players noticed.
As he opened the common room exit to head out, he was shoved rudely aside by Neville Longbottom, who had apparently been standing around outside trying to remember the password, and who was currently barging into the room to find Ron. "There you are!" he exclaimed, having to come right up to the chess game and whack Ron on the head to get his attention.
"Hey!" he exclaimed. "What the hell!"
"Big news," he said, his cheeks still stained red from his mad dash between the potions laboratory and the Ravenclaw tower. "Harry's back." Those two words seemed to have a profound effect on Ron, who jumped to his feet so fast he knocked the board over, sending the few remaining pieces tumbling to the side screaming in fright from what they apparently regarded as a travesty of justice. Sue was too gobsmacked to speak, but whether it was from the annihilation of their match, or from the news that Harry had returned, no one knew.
"Where? How? Who?" Ron asked, his elation subsuming him.
"Susan just came back from Diagon Alley," Neville explained, already leading Ron out the portrait hole, Sue in hot pursuit.
"Where are you guys going?" she asked, puffing as she tried to keep up with their long strides.
"The war room," Ron said absently. "We need to plan."
"For what?" she pressed, but this time, Ron did not reply. Instead, he motioned for Neville to continue telling his story.
"Yeah, so Susan said she heard from the owner of Flourish & Blots that he's back. Apparently he made a big show of it at the Leaky Cauldron and is staying there right now, as we speak. Susan even went over there and checked it with Tom, the barkeep. Apparently he's got some muggle girl with him."
"Muggle girl?" Ron asked sharply, his mind reconfiguring the possible theories he had of Harry's whereabouts to incorporate this new detail.
Neville nodded. "Yes, that's what Tom told her."
They reached the room and went inside, Ron shuffling together some papers and standing near a detailed map of Diagon Alley, tapping it with his wand so that he could zoom in on it and see the Leaky Cauldron. The map functioned much like the Marauder's Map, only it also made indications of localized magical signatures, including dark curses and enchanted objects. Like the time turner, it had been instrumental in tracking the movements of Death Eaters, often times revealing patterns in their behaviour.
"What are you looking for?" Sue asked, still not understanding the importance that Harry's presence made to the war effort. Sure, he was a good friend of the Commander, but he was hardly anything to brag about, in terms of skill.
"He's not showing up," Ron said irritably. "Are you sure he's really there? Maybe it's some sort of trick."
"It's possible they've stepped out," said Susan, approaching from behind.
"Of course it is," Ron said, "but that doesn't really concern us here. The map can collapse time frames and show everybody who passed through a region. Look, there he is."
Sure enough, a dot labelled Harry Potter appeared on the map and a line tracing his path from the main floor Diagon Alley entrance to the upper level formed itself, moving towards the far room on the upstairs. The line was faint, showing that it was from at least a day ago, though what was peculiar about it was that it stopped right at the threshold of his room. From there, it simply disappeared, as though Harry had simply disapparated on the spot before going inside, taking the unknown companion with him, whose dot was simply labelled "Minnie".
"Perhaps they found something wrong with the room," Neville muttered. "Maybe they had to beat a hasty retreat."
"It's rather quick for the Dark Lord to mount an attack. Look." Ron pointed to the appearance of Peter Pettigrew scurrying up the step, his line a little darker than Harry's. "He came afterwards," Ron said, puzzling out the situation. "and you can see here, Harry must have apparated in at some point because his line gets darker near his room, as though it has been refreshed. He's probably not bothered making an appearance down on the main floor, knowing what a ruckus his presence causes. Wormtail follows him into the room, and they both disappear."
"What does it mean?" Neville asked.
"He must have set up some sort of anti-tracking field," Ron mused. "It's blocking out our map."
"Not possible," Susan interjected, shaking her head. "The map sees through anti-tracking defenses. At least, all the ones we know of."
Sue scrunched up her face in a look of consternation. "well, technically, there's one that I can think of, though it's not an anti-tracking spell at all."
"What's that?" Ron asked, still looking at the map, searching for any other clues that could tell him something useful.
"Look," Neville said, expanding the map to zoom in on the corridor. "Wormtail seems to leave the room shortly after, and his line is stained red."
"Dark curse," Ron muttered. "What the heck does that mean?"
"Harry cursed him," Susan said, surprised. "Something nasty, it looks like."
"Wish we could see inside that room. Sue?" Ron asked, prompting her to pick up where she left off.
"It's a long shot," she prefaced. "Hell, after six months, we still can't even produce one stable enough to last for more than a few seconds. There's just no way he could do it. It's amazingly advanced and complex and requires mental focus, command of magic, magical power-"
"Out with it," Ron cut in impatiently. "This is Harry we're talking about. He's known for doing the impossible, remember? Patronus at thirteen?"
Sue sighed. "All right, all right. It could be a null field. Still it wouldn't last for more than a few minutes, unless he affixed it to an object, which is just plain crazy. I mean, I don't even know if you can do that."
"What's a null field?" Susan asked, perplexed by the idea.
"It's a field you generate by sucking the magic out of a region of space," Sue explained. "More importantly, you continue sucking magic out of the region so that any magic that enters the targeted area will immediately be diffused to all the edges, effectively shattering the magic, and thus nullifying it."
"How's that possible?" Susan continued, clearly mystified by the process.
"Magic is known as a bipolar force, because it is made of two counteracting forces that have the tendency to repel one another. Much like magnets. The null field is generated by creating a thin layer of magic around the targeted region that is oriented so that it draws all the magic of one polarity to the edges, thereby continually sucking all the magic from the region. The attraction from multiple directions tends to cause concentrated magic such as a spell to break apart and diffuse to all directions."
"Uh huh," Susan said, her face still scrunched up as she tried to understand what her comrade was talking about. "Bipolar?"
"Does that work on the unforgiveables?" Neville asked, more curious about its capabilities than its underlying theory.
"No," Ron replied instantly, turning away from the map and sighing, his brow furrowed in concentration.
"Unless of course it were affixed to an object, like you're suggesting," Sue said. "It would be a rather formidable ward."
"Except that we can't produce one," Neville concluded.
"Right."
Susan, seeing that Ron was still focused on the Harry issue, re-directed the conversation to focus back on that. "Commander, what is so important about Harry?"
Ron looked up to the expectant faces of his three soldiers. "What do you mean?" he asked, feigning innocence.
They exchanged looks with one another, and, silently, they agreed that it should be Neville who spoke up. Tentatively, he began, "From the very start of this war, you've been bent on focusing our attention on stripping away the Dark Lord's forces. That's fine and all. Hell, it's more than fine. It makes a damned good bit of sense, but, well, we've always wondered why it is that going after the big man himself has been off limits. I mean, wouldn't it be better if we cut the head off the snake? The rest would just wither and die."
Ron exhaled a long breath. "Yeah, you're right, Neville. That would make sense..." He stared off into the distance, lost in a sea of his own memories.
"What is it?" Susan pressed gently.
Still not looking at them, he replied, "You can't really kill the Dark Lord. At least not as it stands. All you would end up doing is accomplishing what the Potters accomplished back in 1981."
"You mean dispossessing him of a body," Sue said, her voice still questioning. "I don't get why we shouldn't try. I mean, it seems to suggest quite the opposite. We should be trying to figure out how to get rid of the son of a bitch for good."
"I know," Ron agreed. "And we would, except that I already know what has to be done to get rid of the Dark Lord. For good, that is." All three of his listeners waited expectantly for Ron to continue, but he merely shook his head. "It's out of our hands," he continued in response.
Again, they exchanged another look and then, this time, Sue spoke up. "With all due respect, sir, that doesn't really cut it. Who else knows?"
Ron exhaled a long breath, thinking about just who knew of the whole horcrux thing. Finally, he said, "Well, Hermione, for one."
"What!" Susan exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. "You told her, but you can't tell us?"
"It wasn't me," Ron said, shaking his head. "Harry told us before he left."
"So you know where he is?" Neville asked incredulously. "And all this time you were just pretending to be concerned?"
"No, no," Ron said, trying to explain. "Harry going AWOL was as much of a surprise to me as it was to you. I had no clue what happened to him. For all I knew, he could have been caught by Death Eaters, or he could have run off to the muggle world to become a lap dancer at a gay strip club. Listen, you must understand that the information is so sensitive that if the Dark Lord had even the remotest inkling that we knew anything about the keys to his immortality. Hell, if he even knew this much, even this measly conversation between us, we would be in deep water. He would take steps to secure his power that would ensure he was invulnerable. At least for a really long time. No, as long as he thinks the keys are safe, he won't be inclined to move them, and then we'll have a chance at finding them."
"So why aren't we looking for these keys?" Sue asked, still puzzled.
Before Ron could respond, however, Neville spoke up, answering for him. "Because that's what Harry's been doing," he said, finally clueing in. "And if he's back, then maybe he's done with the keys."
Ron nodded. "Precisely. Which means that we may be on the cusp of victory."
Sue whistled. "Holy shit," she said. "I had no clue. It's like you've been setting up a gigantic red herring. Keeping the Dark Lord focused on his soldiers, wearing them down to draw the Dark Lord's attention and also to set him up for the final fall." Sue shook her head, dumbfounded by Ron's forethought. "Fuck it, I'm never playing chess with you again. You're just plain scary."
At this, Ron grinned. "For a Ravenclaw, it took you quite a while to figure that out."
"I still don't understand why Harry had to do it alone," Neville said. "Wouldn't it have made more sense to have some help along?"
"I wondered about that for quite some time," Ron said, shrugging. "I mean, Herm and I were supposed to join him. We agreed right after Dumbledore's death." Ron now shook his head, trying to clear the multitude of memories that came with the image of the old headmaster's coffin gently being lowered into the ground, the sight of all those well-wishers, Percy and Scrimgeour included among them, Harry breaking up with Ginny, pulling them aside, telling them the score. "I suppose I should have known. Fate's always had something special in store for Harry, and she didn't really include us in that."
""There's something else you're not telling us," Neville said, eyeing Ron speculatively.
"Right in one, Nev," Ron agreed. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to say it now. I'm not even sure what the Dark Lord could do with the information if he found out." Ron then said in a strangely matter of fact tone, "Trelawney, the fraud that she was most of the time, had been known to spout out a bona fide prophecy now and again. Before Harry was born, she made such a prophecy, telling of a child who would be born as the seventh month dies, born to those who have thrice defied the Dark Lord, and that the Dark Lord would mark that child as his equal, and the child would have power the Dark Lord knows not. One will die at the hands of the other, for neither can live while the other survives. The Dark Lord, naturally, took this very seriously and went to dispatch the Potters and their infant son, Harry. In so doing, he unwittingly fulfilled the first term of the prophecy, marking Harry that night with the killing curse that was rebound upon him."
The Huffelpuff, the Gryffindor and the Ravenclaw remained motionless as the import of Ron's words settled upon them. Finally, Susan spoke. "So now what?"
"We need to contact Harry," Neville piped in. "ASAP. It's critical to figuring out where we stand in this war. If the Dark Lord is truly vulnerable, then we have a shot at storming Technoparc as soon as we can mobilize our troops."
Ron did not comment, instead choosing to simply nod tightly, a grave expression still on his place. Neville was just about to ask about this when Sue spoke up, her gaze scrutinizing Ron intently. "You're worried he's dark."
At those words, Ron snapped to attention and fixed Sue with a glare that could wilt lettuce. "What makes you say that?"
"Well, there's the dark curse on Wormtail, the unknown ward he's using, and, then of course, there's Hermione."
"What the hell does she have to do with anything?" Ron asked fiercely, his blue eyes glittering, he having gone from contemplative to attack mode in an instant.
"Nothing," Sue said softly, still not backing down, going so far as to put one gentle hand on his arm. "Except that she shattered your trust. I can only imagine how hard it must be for you, and now you don't know if you can take Harry being dark too. You're afraid."
Instead of going nuclear at these words, Ron seemed to visibly deflate, sagging into himself. "Yeah, I reckon that's all true," he mumbled, picking idly at a loose thread in his robes.
"Come on," she said, pulling on Ron's arm. "Why don't we keep this business about Harry between the four of us for now. It breaks protocol, but I think we can be forgiven this one time. Let's go in and see him."
"Do you think that's wise?" Ron asked quietly, being led along by Sue's determined gait.
"It's a bloody terrible idea," she said, "and we'll probably all be brought up before the Phoenix Council for insubordination, and conduct unbecoming an officer." Sue just shrugged and then added, "But what the fuck, I say. Let God and Fate and our own two feet take us where they may."
The quartet, as such, headed out the Honeydukes passageway and apparated from Hogsmeade.
Technoparc gleamed under the light of the morning sun as Hermione walked down its streets, muggles milling about aimlessly, dopey expressions on their faces. She knew she was being watched, probably had been for several hours, ever since she apparated to the edge of the wards. It had been rather discomfiting to realize that, despite all her skills and strength, she could not tear down the wards, or even punch a dime-sized hole through them. Not that she truly expected to, since Technoparc was rather formidable. Still, it was a disappointment; a girl can hope, after all.
Azrael walked alongside her, his gleaming golden eyes soaking in all the details of that falsely cheery place, vampires hiding in the shadows, licking their lips, werewolves blending in amongst the crowds of muggles, shaking their hands, getting to know them, secretly eyeing them to be their next meal. It was a disturbing place; it was like a David Lynch movie. You never knew when Marilyn Manson or Dennis Hopper or Bob were going to pop up, either in the afternoon or in the dead of night. It was a place where you could see through the sugar-coated topping and down into the seedy underbelly, the dark things crawling about, their leathery black skin stretched tight against their sinewy bodies, white eyes watching, their gait predatory. And still there was concrete and steel and paved roads, fresh tar filling the potholes; everything neat and tidy and outdoor antiseptic, like California and Switzerland. Hermione, the Dark One, eater of babies and queen of werewolves, was, truth be told, all around sort of creeped out by the place.
From above somewhere, Hermione felt the eyes of the Dark Lord upon her, his gaze eternal, unflinching, unwavering. Still, she did not look up, knowing that magic and physics were probably not on her side. She was not surprised to see Lucius Malfoy appear not twenty feet from her, his body shimmering into view as an invisibility cloak pooled about his feet.
"Hello, Lucius," called the Dark One.
"Mudblood," he responded, nodding his head in acknowledgement.
Deploying her legilimancy-sonar, Hermione ascertained that four Death Eaters were hiding under disillusionment in key places around her, having just been put into position with Technokeys, a variant of a portkey designed for instant transport to multiple parts of the city.
Not bothering with anymore formalities, Hermione simply said in an even voice, "Let us duel, then."
Immediately, Lucius fired off the cruciatus curse, as did the four disillusioned Death Eaters, all of which were strategically aimed to either hit her or block off her movements to one side. Hermione made a standing jump that propelled her nearly two metres into the air so that she came to land on top of Azrael, who did not even grunt at the impact of her body landing on his back. Before the curses had reached her, she deployed a focused legilimantic attack to one side, causing two of the unnamed Death Eaters to fall to the ground shrieking, the disillusionment charms ending as their wands rolled from their hands. Lucius looked momentarily surprised, though whether it was from her effective incapacitation of the two Death Eaters, who she executed with one sweep of her wand, easily cleaving them in half with a narrow black beam as they lay twitching on the ground, or whether it was from making a jump that demonstrated inhuman strength, she did not know. Again, curses were fired at her, but she merely dodged the myriad of multi-coloured lights by sliding down Azrael's sides so that she was straddled atop it like it were a horse, the curses passing harmlessly overhead.
Azrael made a hard turn to the left, and charged, demonstrating uncanny strength, speed and agility, effectively scattering the two disillusioned Death Eaters. "Avada kedavra," she said lazily, picking one of them in the back even as Azrael turned around and took a running leap at the next one, who futilely attacked it with a bone shattering curse. Azrael roared as the curse impacted against his abdomen, bruising his ribs. He bent down and snapped up the Death Eater's wand arm in his powerful jaws and crushed it, Hermione fluidly sliding off the creature and avoiding yet another killing curse, and responding in kind by discharging two of them in one smooth stroke, Lucius's eyes widening as he saw not one but two coming. Hermione just smiled as he threw himself out of the way really hard, his face smacking against the cement sidewalk as he kept one hand gripping his wand. "Crucio," she said, still in that same casual voice, Lucius rolling out of the way and casting the mudblood curse haplessly in her general direction, while trying to clear the blood that was spilling into his eyes. Hermione caught him with the next cruciatus, pinning him down on the concrete as he writhed and screamed and flailed about, his wand being uselessly thrown from his hand as his muscles spasmed and twitched involuntarily. After two minutes, she released the curse, careful to continue deploying her sonar to catch any encroachers that might bee coming to free the senior Malfoy.
Spluttering through a mouthful of blood and several chipped teeth, Malfoy managed to croak, "How? You're just a mudblood. A filthy, worthless little mudblood! It - it's not possible."
"Ah, but it is, Lucius," Hermione said in her soft and deadly, 'You're going to die soon' voice. "That is why you're a pureblood. You and your kind live in the past. Go and join them then. Avada kedavra." In a flash of green light, the Malfoy patriarch was no more, his eyes still stained with blood, his body still twitching from the onslaught.
Hermione whirled around, her wand poised. There, before her stood the Dark Lord, his robes gently swaying in time with the wind, an inscrutable expression on his face as his red eyes studied her. His gaze fell upon her Dementor-hand with a look of curiosity. She tentatively flexed it, sending out concentrated waves against the Dark Lord, and, to her disappointment, though not exactly surprise, she saw that it did not affect him in the slightest.
"Most intriguing," he said, still studying her. "You are indeed quite special, miss Granger."
Hermione narrowed her eyes, wondering how it was that he recognized her name.
"May I ask what it is that has brought you to my playground?" he inquired.
She cocked her head, now taking a moment to study him. He was tall and incredibly lean, inhumanly so, and she wondered what it was that he did to himself to cause that chronically emaciated look. And the red eyes and the distinct lack of hair, both of which were unnerving in so far as they made him hideously ugly. The red eyes must be part of some sort of mind defense transformation, she reasoned. "I am here to kill things," she replied evenly.
Voldemort raised an eyebrow at this proclamation. "And why is it that you would come here to do that?"
"I heard there might be someone around here who could give me a challenge," she answered, still in her cool, collected tone. "You up for it?"
The Dark Lord smiled. "Indeed, I am."
"Good," she said, nodding. "Let's do this to the death."
Lord Voldemort's brows were raised even higher. "That is a little extreme, isn't it?"
Hermione smiled. "Well, I suppose death is already out of the question for you, since you can't be killed. But I'll settle for dispossessing you, at the very least."
Voldemort narrowed his eyes and scrutinized her, the air of amiability around him evaporating, his eyes searching for some sort of hidden meaning, an indication that she knew of the horcruxes. Studying her face, each line, he simply watched for a long minute, and, then, just as he was about to give up and assume she knew nothing, he saw a flicker, an image of Dumbledore and the cracked ring on his finger. Slytherin's ring. And he knew she knew.
So the old man found out, he thought, thankful now more than ever that Snape had offed him. Still, he had to wonder just how many were left. How many had the old man destroyed? Voldemort was even more disturbed that he hadn't felt the destruction of the ring. The diary he had simply passed off as being because he had been wandering about in spirit form, but the ring had to have been destroyed after he had regained his body, after the battle at the DOM.
"So be it," Lord Voldemort said, resolving to break the girl before him. In truth, he was most impressed by her abilities. She moved with a speed and strength and grace that spoke of the dark arts, of dark transformations. Certainly the creature next to her was a product of some peculiar breeding, which had created a creature of formidable power, capable of speed, intelligence, virtual invulnerability from spells, including the unforgiveables.
They duelled.
Hermione shot off two killing curses which Lord Voldemort dodged effortlessly, sending two back with the same arcing motion of his yew and phoenix feather wand.
"Crucio!" Hermione incanted, resolving to play aggressively. She discharged cruciatuses and killing curses in rapid succession, Voldemort batting away the cruciatuses with the same peculiar spell that the Colonel had used long ago, and merely dodging the killing curses. Seeing this, she switched to killing curses only, discharging them at a rate of two per second, driving the Dark Lord slowly but surely towards a corner where he would be effectively trapped. Hermione smiled inwardly, her dark eyes glittering, the feeling of triumph flowing through her veins. So much for the Chosen One, she thought spitefully. So much for batty old hags and their worthless prophecies. It will be me who ushers in a new era in the wizarding world, not the Dark Lord, not the bloody Boy-Who-Lived, not Ronald Weasley. It will be me.
Before she knew it, the Dark Lord was hit with two killing curses dead on, Hermione's smile breaking out on her lips as she stood and watched them impact against the Dark Lord's body. Success. However, even as she took her first step forward to reclaim his wand, she realized that something was terribly wrong. The curses which had hit him with such force they nearly toppled him off his feet should have sent him collapsing to the ground in a tangle of his own robes and dead limbs. That, unfortunately, was not the case. He merely stood their, eyeing her appraisingly before speaking. "I suppose you have found me out then," he said in a falsely despairing voice.
"But - but how?" Hermione asked, not understanding. "It's not possible! Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew she had uttered the same words Malfoy had before she killed him. Still she did not care. This was not supposed to be happening. The Dark Lord was supposed to be dead, and she was supposed to be the victor.
"Perhaps we can play in earnest now," he said, amused, a dark twinkle in his eyes.
Pushing down the burgeoning fear, Hermione switched to heavy assault curses, like the exsanguination curse and the evisceration curse, sending them off two or three at a time. Only, now Voldemort was easily blocking them and sending back curses of equal ferocity in her direction. Hermione executed a backwards summersault roll, letting a curse shoot by over head as she sent a spray of boiling oil at the Dark Lord, who raised a wall of concrete to repel it.
Maintaining the stream of conjured oil, she sent a blasting hex at the concrete barrier that blew it apart, only to discover that Voldemort was no longer there. Whirling around, she saw that he had woven a silver cage around her familiar, who, meanwhile, was bleeding profusely out of a large gash in his side. A gash that was refusing to heal.
Hermione conjured a whip of blue flame and slashed at the Dark Lord, who dispelled it with a flick of his wand, before returning to the creature to study it.
"Interesting,' he mused. "I understand now. It was you who took the dementors from me." Voldemort then sent a blasting hex at the ground near Hermione's feet, which she blocked while waving her Dementor-hand and concentrating as focused and as violent an assault as she could manage against the Dark Lord. The beam was chased by wandfire of raw dark energy. Noting that the Dementor-hand, did seem to distract him momentarily, Hermione then sent the evisceration curse as Voldemort blocked the beam of energy by conjuring a black shield.
He blocked that as well and generated two flame whips that he sent slashing down at Hermione, who jumped back to avoid them, simultaneously casting a wide beam of ice that froze the two tongues of flame. Shattering them and sending the ice fragments in his direction, Hermione also sent a blasting hex at the ground, which Voldemort merely jumped over, coming to a crouch not ten feet from her and sending a killing curse at lightning speed, forcing her to rapidly dodge out of the way, already moving himself to avoid the next attack while conjuring four serpents to attack her. Permanent conjuration, she thought, suitably impressed, but already putting the four snakes to good use. She transfigured them into a butterfly and affixed an explosion hex to it, sending it to the Dark Lord who eyed it suspiciously before vaporizing it with a burning hex. To his surprise, the butterfly promptly exploded, releasing all the stored magic of the four snakes plus the explosion hex, which sent Lord Voldemort careening to the ground, his robes lit afire and burn marks on his face and hands.
Hermione again deployed a legilimantic assault and simultaneously sent three evisceration curses. This time, however, the dementor attack did not affect him at all, and he simply raised another shield, absorbing all three curses, as powerful as they were.
"Dammit," she muttered, realizing for the first time that she may very well be out of her league. Trying one more attempt at ingenuity, she began banishing various objects at Voldemort, including a motorbike, a stone garbage receptacle and a street post, which nearly impaled him as he snatched it out of midair with his hand and threw it back in Hermione's direction, catching her off guard and clipping her in the shoulder as she dived out of the way, hitting the ground with a roll and popping back up to fire off yet another curse, this time the roasting hex, followed by the Disembowelment hex, which Voldemort merely blocked. He eyed her speculatively once again, no longer making any moves to attack.
"You are indeed rather powerful," said he, looking at the girl who managed to survive for that long.
Hermione did not respond, instead choosing to wait for an opening so she could attack yet again.
"You have spellwork that would rival the Colonel. That coupled with your speed and strength make you a superior adversary, as well as your keen intellect and ingenuity in a duel. The butterfly demonstrated particularly in-depth knowledge of magic. I had wondered why you didn't make the butterfly a permanent transfiguration, knowing I could have simply vanished it. But then again, it was merely a butterfly."
"Yes, well, it is common knowledge that transfiguration is a double-edged sword in duelling. Frankly, I am rather insulted that you used it to begin with. Did you think a gaggle of snakes was going to unnerve me?" she asked, a tinge of incredulity in her tone.
Lord Voldemort smiled. "I did, and for it I beg your forgiveness. As you can see, I have learned my lesson. Certainly, it has worked on some of my most formidable enemies in the past. It is rather impressive that you did not even flinch at the sight of them. I made them most menacing, as it were."
"I still cannot believe that you have immunized yourself from the killing curse," she said. "How did you do it?"
Lord Voldemort's expression turned stern. "Please do not insult me, miss Granger. I know you are aware of the ritual that I performed to achieve immortality. How you came by that information still eludes me, but rest assured, I am aware you know of it."
"So it is just the horcruxes then," she mused. "But then why did the killing curse rip you from your body in 1981?"
Voldemort smiled. "Ah, I understand you are rather the clever girl. I have no doubt you'll come to figure it out shortly."
Thinking upon it, she finally said, "You were in the process of casting magic, which means there was a sort of open vent for your magic to escape. It would have left you a muggle if you tried to close it off, because the killing curse cuts your magic as much as it cuts your soul from your body. So long as your magic is contained and airtight, it won't escape when the curse hits. That is why you tend not to fire back when you're confronted with the killing curse."
Voldemort grinned brightly at her, his dark eyes twinkling yet again. He clapped at her deduction. "I would have rather fled my body with my magic intact than remain in my body with my magic gone. For, you see, I can always secure another vessel. Magic, on the other hand, would not be so easy. You truly are a brilliant witch."
Hermione found herself blushing at the compliment.
Voldemort continued as though not sensing her reaction to his words. "I have seen many witches and wizards come and go over the last fifty years. None have shown promise like you. You dabble in the dark arts, do you not? I see it in your eyes. They are a part of you. So many of my followers claim to love them, but they fear them to. You are the first who has embraced the dark with the same warmth as I have done. You could be great, miss Granger. Already with a mere fraction of the dark arts that are out there, you have done great things. Under my tutelage, you could be my successor, even. You could rule all of Britain. I would make you my heir."
Hermione snapped to attention at Voldemort's last words. "Your heir?" she asked, suspicion creeping into her voice. "What in the world would you need an heir for?" Somewhere, deep in the back of her mind, that once shy and moral girl who was a Gryffindor wept yet another tear, for the person she had become.
Voldemort smiled. "You do not really expect me to continue dominating the country forever, do you? Just because I wish to live forever does not mean I wish to control forever. That mantle I would groom you for, building you to be as strong as me, stronger even, so that you can continue my work, maintain order."
"Your work," Hermione said, tasting the words. And then, looking directly into his eyes, added, "But your work includes killing people like me."
At this, Lord Voldemort chuckled and shook his head. "No, as it happens, it does not. Do let me explain before you look at me like that. It is most unbecoming of a dark witch to scowl." And with that, Lord Voldemort turned around and walked away, beckoning with one hand for Hermione to follow, casually releasing her familiar from bondage, it near death from blood loss.
The Dark Lord glanced over his shoulder and gave Hermione a questioning glance as if to ask, Are you coming?
Without hesitating, without so much as even pondering the consequences, Hermione followed after him, the prospect of all that she could learn from the immense being before her, flitting through her mind's eye.
