Author's note: Updated within a month! Quite neat, don't you think? And it has turned out to be quite a long chappie as well. Our friends travel from the more or less friendly forest to darker places, closer to the goal of their quest. And are they being watched? By the way, if you can read French, check out the French version of this story, translated by MysticScribe: Les Seigneurs de Woldshire et le Mage Noir.

- Chapter 8 -

Hermione woke early the next morning. Her leg didn't prickle anymore, but there was a cold pain inside it which had climbed up as far as her thigh. The muscles were all stiff and didn't cooperate when Hermione tried to sit up. She dragged the leg to the side of the bed with her hands and placed her foot on the cold floor with tiles. The tickling woollen blanket slid off her leg and Hermione saw dark stains on the bandages, swimming in the sliver light that escaped through slits in the curtains which were hanging before the window across the room. The light fell on Harry's bed and illuminated the outlines of his face, his cheeks, the top of his nose. There were no glasses to reflect the light and Harry's eyes were closed, but yet it seemed as though he was still watching everything, carefully sensing whether any dangers were approaching. His eyelids were making little movements, small muscles squeezing and relaxing all the time, etching worried lines next to his eyes. Hermione now understood why there were always dark circles under his eyes. Sleep was no warm bath filled with bubbles smelling of flowers into which Harry could slide; it looked like a chilling pool in which he had to keep on treading water, if he didn't want to sink down and discover what was on the bottom. Hermione almost wanted to sit down on his bedside, take him on her lap and comfort him, shielding him from what was outside. But she knew she couldn't shield him from what was outside. And even less from what was gnawing on him on the inside. Harry looked more Harry now than she had ever seen him awake, and he looked more alone than she had ever seen him. He was so near, but Hermione knew that as soon as she would come near him, touch him with one fingertip, his eyelids would open, and instead of revealing what was inside Harry, cover it and hide it. Any anger that she might have had swarming in her head for Harry, froze, and fell down on her stomach as cold stones. Hermione couldn't stand the chilly wind running through her and looked at the bed beside Harry's. The silver light snowed on the fuzzy hills of blanket which were formed by the bones in the long body of Ron. A few pale toes stuck out from under the fabric on the back side of the bed, too big to fit into it. Ron's back was curled up and he lay with his head on one hand and his other arm lay pressed against his chest, ending in a hand laying next to his cheek. Like a child he lay, safe in the pale light and the warmth of his bed covers. His white skin enclosed visible muscles and moved up and down as he breathed. His slow inhaling and exhaling radiated warm waves which Hermione's body willingly absorbed. They made her skin tingle.

God, why was she studying those two sleeping boys, Hermione thought as she noticed her accelerated breath. She shook her head and threw the covers of her body. She hadn't taken off her dress the night before, so she wasn't very cold and didn't need to get dressed. Leaning on the wall, she got up and, as quietly as possible, she searched her way to the door along the wall. By using the cold iron door handle, she created a small opening, through which she arrived in a small hall without windows which led her outside. Damp, green grass tickled Hermione's bare feet when she walked down the garden. The silver light had mingled with golden light by now and hesitatingly, yellow streaks appeared on the edge of the dark blue sky. The two horses were tied to a large oak tree in the middle of the garden en they looked up at her as a greeting. Hermione's first urge was to turn her back on the beasts and return to the house, when the memory of what had happened the day before stung painfully in her body. Yet she forced herself forwards, closer to the animals. She couldn't stay afraid of them, because now she had to be one of those horse-riding-girls, whether she wanted to or not. She had quite enough to worry about when she was sitting on a horse with one of the boys apart from having to fear her mount. Shaking slightly, she laid her hand upon the blaze of the grey horse and slowly started stroking it when the horse didn't recoil or lunge out at her touch. Her lips curled into a small smile.

"See, you're not scary at all," she whispered at the horse and it stared back at her with its big brown eyes. Hermione laid her cheek against its long neck and combed its manes with her fingers. "I can handle you. You're a sweetie" she said softly, and clumsily she bent down to get a hand of grass for the horse. As she tried to tear off blades, leaning on her right leg with her elbow, two legs clad in dark, rather tight pants walked into view. Hermione looked up, at which half of her wild hair fell into her face. Through the wilderness of brown curls she looked into bright green eyes. They were opened, no longer drenched in emotions that made Hermione feel worried and powerless to help, and they looked at her. An amused smile was underneath it.

"Need a hand?" Harry grinned and he grabbed a handful of grass. He extended his hand and offered its contents to Hermione. "You've made up with the horses, I see?" he asked her.

Hermione smiled and took what was lying Harry's palm. They were both very aware of Hermione's fingers that brushed Harry's hand and they fell silent for a second. Hermione gave the grass to the horse and its moist lips nibbled the blades.

"I erm…" Hermione broke the silence, and she cleared her throat. "I wanted to wash my skirt and bandages for a bit. Just down at the river there." She nodded at far end of the garden, where the water of the river they had ridden past flowed as a small stream, embedded in wet grey stones which shone golden in the morning light.

"Yeah, I figured so when I heard you go outside so early," – so she had awoken him, had he felt it when she had watched him? – "The bleeding hadn't quite stopped when we bandaged your leg yesterday, so the cloths probably need refreshing." Harry held out a white shirt. "There was still one left we can use," he said, "I had a look in the saddlebags."

Hermione nodded and she wiped the few remaining grass blades off her palm. Together they walked down to the river bank and dropped themselves on the stones (though Hermione with considerably more effort than Harry). Hermione grabbed a few handfuls of skirt and put them underwater. In the clear water around it, translucent wisps of red appeared and the dark stains on the fabric faded somewhat. Harry was looking at the bandage on Hermione's leg that could now be seen.

"Yeah it really does need changing," he said as he looked at the fabric which was soaked in blood and he reached out to her leg. "Shall I - …?"

"Yes," Hermione said and she positioned her limb so that it lay stretched across the stones. Harry the doctor started his work again and Hermione rubbed over stains in her dress with water, even though it didn't help all that much. Slowly, in the overall dusk, shadows started appearing as the sun came into view and worked its beams past the outlines of objects, as both of them were busy with their hands. Harry tore the shirt in slivers and bound it around Hermione's leg with much more speed than the day before and skilfully fastened it.

"Well, that should last for a while," he said pleased.

"Thanks," Hermione said and in appreciation she laid her hand on Harry's shoulder and smiled. A little flustered, Harry returned the smile. At least this awake Harry, she could reach.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw a figure standing underneath the great oak tree. She quickly removed her hand and turned her head. "Hi Ron!" she said, and Harry echoed her. Ron didn't answer, but just stood there and stared at them, reluctant to watch, but unable to look away. What he had just seen, had evoked an unpleasant feeling in his stomach and frozen both his eyes and tongue. The moment of silence was so rigid that even the horses next to Ron stopped their grazing and looked upon the situation with their shiny dark eyes. Harry felt uncomfortable. Why did he feel he owed Ron some sort of explanation? Hermione wished that she would do something like laying her hand on Ron's shoulder, showing that things were all right, as she had done with Harry, but just thinking of that froze her muscles and made her fingertips tingle.

Even though Harry didn't know why it did and didn't want it to be, his voice sounded apologetic as he told Ron that he had just been helping Hermione with changing her bandages. Ron looked down and muttered something Harry and Hermione couldn't discern. Hermione tried to meet Ron's gaze, but failed. An uneasy silence lay upon them, until the sound of an opening door interrupted it. The fat owner of the house came outside.

"Good morning, ye early birds," Tom greeted them with a large smile which curled up his red moustache. "Leavin' early, are ye?" The awkward moment was ended and all three looked into Tom's direction.

Hermione straightened her skirt and got up the best she could. "Yes, we've still got quite a way to go," she answered him.

"Well, the weather's fine," Tom said pleased, looking at the sky and squinting his eyes because of the sunlight which was falling into them. "Where are you headed?"

"We're going to the castle of…" Harry started and then cast a questioning look at Hermione. "Earpwald," she completed him. Tom stared at them, the ends of his moustache not pointing upwards anymore. "The wizard," she clarified.

"Yes, the wizard…" Tom said darkly. "What business have you with him?" he asked, sounding almost accusatory.

"Our sister is being held captive in his castle," Harry answered him. "Ethel, she's called." Tom taxed him with his eyes. "So it is a rescue mission of the royal house," he said. Then his intent gaze ended and he shook his head. "Rescue mission or not, if you want to stay alive I'd stay far from that place. Normal people can't fight what is in there. He… he has beasts unlike any you know, eyes in places other than his own head…" Anxiously, Ron looked over his shoulder. "Not even your royal blood will be enough to save that girl. Go home and pray that he doesn't take this lady as well," Tom said, eyeing Hermione. Ron looked as though he was quite tempted to return, but Harry jumped in.

"Hermione – Lady Mildburh – is quite able to defend herself," he bit, more bitter than Ron and Hermione were used to. "And we will be able to rescue Ethel. We will not leave her to her fate." Harry had gotten up by now as well and was looking rather menacing. Why did he always have to get so passionate when the smell of people needing defending or rescuing tickled in his nose, Hermione thought. She wanted to go and sooth, but Tom had raised his hands in front of his large chest, as if in defence, and spoke:

"All right, all right – no offence meant – just wanted ter help. If you guys feel you must go, I won't stop ye," he said. "I just hope I will see the three of you again."

"You will," Hermione said, and she smiled at him. She did hope the adventure wouldn't last so long that they would have to spend another night here.

The expression of the barman softened. "I will get you something to eat," he said and he walked inside again.

Half an hour later, Tom had put three loaves of bread inside the saddlebags, accompanied by some beer, 'to keep them warm when the night would come'. He told how they would need to ride and that if they kept a steady pace, they would arrive at the castle late in the afternoon. He advised them a lot of things, ranging from which pubs they should avoid to the best ways to repel dark magic, like throwing salt over your left shoulder and wearing crosses on your chest, none of which they remembered. Above all, he wished them luck as he waved them off when they continued down the road, during which Hermione kept expressing her gratitude for all his help, until Tom probably couldn't hear her anymore.

Today she sat on a horse with Harry. She had just mounted one and let the boys decide who would join her. After some standing around, shuffling feet and muttering for some time, Harry had mounted behind her. Hermione had decided she wasn't going to do the whole sitting-on-the-painful-edge-of-the-saddle-thing again and simply leaned against him. So besides her leg, she actually had a quite comfortable day. She looked around the scenery as the horses trotted over the muddy path, studied the farmers they passed by and wondered at the golden beaked birds that sat in trees they passed and flew through the sky.

Occasionally, they landed at crossings they didn't remember Tom telling about and had to ask lumpish men with rustic accents in what direction the castle was. Usually, all they got was a suspicious look and a grunt when the name of Earpwald was mentioned, after which the men turned their backs on them. So, the first junctions, they chose a direction at random. Soon, Hermione found that the farmers tended to be more cooperative when she draped her skirt so that a little bit of her right leg showed and put on a frightened look when she told them that she was terribly lost. Still, every one of them tried to send her home before they would eventually give her directions. Hermione thought she heard the voices of the boys murmur things which strangely resembled words like 'sluttish' behind her, but considered it wiser to ignore that.

"I thought you were with us to show us the way, not to flirt with every peasant around here," Harry teased her.

"Well, at least someone's managing to find our way. Can't say you remember what Tom told us," Hermione said.

"Yeah, well, he did say a lot," Ron said. "Anyway, I do still remember the amount of beer he put in these saddlebags." He tapped the leather bags.

"Let's save that till after we've finished business with the wizard," Hermione said. "Judging by all these people here, he's not a pleasant fellow. I wonder what he's got in store for us when we get to this castle of his."

"The fat guy, Tom, I mean, said that the wizard has all kinds of weird animals. Do you reckon that's true?" Ron asked, with a nervy note in his voice.

"We saw one of them," Harry said, "at the castle. The tiger-horse thing which he rode. Wouldn't like to get on the wrong side of that beast." Hermione felt Harry's muscles tense slightly behind her.

"We really should watch out," Hermione said. "I mean, just look at my leg,"

"Surely you won't fall off one of those beasts" Ron said, sniggering.

"No, because it would bite off my legs before I would ever be able to mount it! We need to be careful," she said, her voice quivering.

Protectively, Harry laid a hand on her shoulder. "We'll be careful," he reassured her. "And we'll be fine anyway. I mean, nothing too bad can happen, because if we would die or something, it would drastically change the storyline. Not that your leg isn't bad –" he added quickly when Hermione made an incensed noise when he spoke about 'nothing too bad', "it's just… not crucial. It will heal soon enough and mean nothing for the storyline."

"Maybe I'm not crucial at all and can have nasty accidents just like that?" Hermione said. "It didn't even matter whether I would join you guys or not!"

"Of course you are crucial, you're Ron's fiancée, remember?" Harry grinned. "You'll have a nice lovely wedding at the end of the story, no doubt."

"Well, then you can be our bridesmaid," Ron said, trying to work the moment of fear out with jesting. "What colour shall we choose for his dress, Hermione? Purple with pink flowers?"

"Nah, it would clash with his green eyes," Hermione said, looking over her shoulder to Harry's face. "A pale blue with golden accents perhaps," she joked and the three of them laughed.

So they rode on, chatting and laughing, for what was left of the afternoon. They left the forest and passed through a town with cuddly houses with crooked chimneys of red bricks. The hoofs of the horses ticked on the stony roads and people watched them as they past, this royal procession, though small it was. Old women looked up from their needlework and girls adopted elegant postures for the passing princes with their impressive armour and adorned horses. As they proceeded, the houses turned less likable and fallen into disrepair, with loose stones lying around the front garden instead of flowers. The sun was going down and slowly darkness crept into the town. Further down the road, the amount of houses grew less until there were none left and the road itself returned to being a muddy path. More and more big grey rocks were lying next to it and instead of grass, the ground was covered in low cover, such as it grows high on mountains. The soft sound of waves breaking on rocks could be heard from afar and a cold, saline wind rubbed their skins. They were tempted to call it a day and camp, but the gloomy environment told them that the couldn't be far of their destination. And indeed, after a few miles, the menacing silhouette of a gate with large spikes on it came into view. When they approached it, they saw the raw cast iron of which the gate had been made, just like the fence connected to it, which reached as far as they could see. Behind the fence, the landscape looked more or less the same as before, with some dark hardy looking shrubs and trees strewn across it. Harry jumped off the horse and took the reins in one hand and tried to open the gate with his other. The cold iron creaked when he shook it, but didn't allow him to enter.

"Damn it," Harry swore. "Hold this for me, will you," he said as he gave the reins to Ron and placed both his hands on the metal bars. He pulled them violently, but it didn't help.

"How are we supposed to get in?" Harry said irritated. He studied the fence more closely, to see whether there was any hint on how it might open, but it just consisted out of the bars which ended in very sharp looking spikes. On top of one spike was a red bird, its golden legs folded around it, which studied them with its dark gleaming eyes.

"How are we supposed to be the heroic princes of the House of Woldshire beating this wizard if we can't even get to his castle!" Harry exclaimed. At this, a soft, metal-like sounding click resounded from within the gate. Harry grabbed the iron once more, and this time the gate willingly opened. The bird flew off in the direction in which they were headed.

"Right, a fence which understands what I'm saying…" Harry said and he shrugged, and opened the gate so far that the horses would be able to pass. Hermione looked at the red dot which flew away from her with distrust.

Then they heard George's voice speak again, as though no more than seconds had passed since he had spoken of their journey to this place.

"The gate provided the adventurers entrance to the dark realm of Earpwald. Not yet could they see the secrets which it harboured in its hidden corners, which they would soon encounter" George read aloud. "So, that's another chapter, guys," he said. "Rather ominous, this foreshadowing, don't you think?"

"No time to check it out whether it will live up to its promises now, however. I'm afraid we'll really need to go to work now," his twin brother said. "Otherwise we'll be busy all afternoon wiping the slobber off our shop-window, of our eager clients which are dying to enter the shop and buy our ingenious products."

"We'll make a nice cosy reading corner behind the counter, so that the three of you won't have to wait all afternoon. Isn't that terribly nice of us, Fred?"

"Very altruistic indeed, brother. Eternal gratefulness will surround us when these three get out of this book," George said. "But now we have to go. Bye guys!" he said and the cover slammed shut on the pages again and the landscape surrounding Harry, Ron and Hermione now felt even more dead than it had done before.