Harry Potter and the Fourth Tower

by The-Nameless90

With Dumbledore gone, Grindelwald's remaining followers are finally able to carry out their plans for "the greater good" and install a Nazi-Germany-like regime. But luckily, the Deathstick found a worthy successor who will oppose them. Based solely on the original 7 books, Harry's story is continued. Realistic, increasingly powerful Harry, no AU. BOOK 1/3.

9. Black Wax

- Chapter Nine -

Black Wax

Ginny finally came out of the bathroom. Just like before they went to the Strangled Cat, Harry couldn't take his eyes off her. She was dressed in a very low-cut, knee-length black dress, and wore no jewellery other than the earrings her parents had given her for her seventeenth birthday. Ginny didn't wear much jewellery anyway, and that was what Harry liked about her; she didn't trust the appeal of expensive things, but her own naturalness.

Ginny stopped when she noticed Harry's eyes staring at the low-cut neckline of her dress. She smiled, stopped adjusting her shoes and straightened, walking over to Harry with swaying hips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him so fiercely that they immediately attracted the attention of Ron and Aberforth, who were talking behind them.

'Hey, can't we do this later?' Ron snarled at them, but none of them paid any attention. 'We should get going!'

After five minutes Ron got fed up with them and instead set to work unfolding the invisibility cloak that had been lying unused for a year. As they worked hard to lock away the past, the cloak – the third Hallow – was slowly becoming part of the past. The last time Harry and Ginny had used it had been when they had snuck out of the house for a night swim at the beach at the end of the previous summer, on her eighteenth birthday. Then it went back in the bag, neatly folded, like the Marauder's Map and Ron's deluminator left to him by Professor Dumbledore. Harry's plan was to give all three to little Teddy Lupin as soon as he received his first letter from Hogwarts.

'Here, take this,' Aberforth handed a small leather bag to Ginny when he and Harry finally stopped kissing. 'It's got bur gherkin leafs in it. Chew one before you meet the boy, so you don't get a cough.'

Ginny thanked him for his help and, at Ron's urging, she and Harry stepped out into the cold night. Down a winding path they went to the bottom of the hill, where the anti-disapparation charm wore off, and together, holding hands, they turned into the nothing. Ginny, too, was apparating under the invisibility cloak, lest they should stumble into Zabini on arrival.

Even at the late hour, the street was crowded with passers-by and the sound of lively conversation could be heard. The trio arrived in the dark alley, in front of which small and large groups of pedestrians regularly passed. Harry looked around, then pointed ahead between Ron and Ginny's heads.

'There's Zabini, see?'

A tall, slant-eyed black boy in a long, distinguished purple robe stood alone in the street, his back to the trio.

'Go on,' Harry encouraged Ginny, flashing her a sympathetic smile.

The girl, muttering expletives, slipped out from under her cloak, adjusted her dress, and stomped behind the Slytherin boy. She tapped him on the shoulder, and Zabini gave a startled squeak and spun around.

'Ginevra!' the boy looked at her wide-eyed. Ginny giggled merrily at Zabini's fright.

'Hi Za... I mean to say: Blaise', she said, and as they moved closer under the invisibility cloak, Harry saw her angelic smile.

Meanwhile, Zabini was looking at Ginny with his mouth agape.

'You are simply beautiful,' he sighed in a breathless voice, and with a sudden movement he reached for her hand.

For a moment Ginny seemed to recoil, but then she pulled herself together and smiled again. Zabini took her by the hand and pulled her to him, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

'You're beautiful...' he kept saying. 'Beautiful... stunningly beautiful...' Harry's hand tightened on the wand so much that he was afraid it would break.

'Calm down,' Ron grabbed his shoulders hard, probably afraid that Harry was about to burst out from under the cloak.

'By Merlin, I can't believe you came!' Zabini said, and before Ginny could even blink, he hugged her. 'You were so dismissive in the shop.'

Ginny couldn't help it, she was pressed against the boy who was stroking her back insistently.

'I couldn't say anything in front of my brother,' Ginny explained herself, her voice ringing with a sincerity that even Harry would have believed. 'You know how my brothers are. They wouldn't let me...'

'To be with a Slytherin, right?' Zabini finished instead. 'I know what you mean. It's not easy for a guy like me these days...'

'Cry me a river,' Harry thought, and as he glanced at Ginny, he could see that she might be thinking the same thing. She was looking in his direction, and her eyes told him that if Harry and Ron didn't do something urgently, she was going to curse everyone around her.

'I thought about going with the others, but my mother wouldn't let me,' said Zabini. 'How good that I stayed here at last!' he sighed again. 'My mother is always right...'

Ron mimed vomiting silently at Zabini's words.

Ginny turned away her mouth because he pushed her hair aside and started kissing her neck.

'That's enough!' hissed Harry, and charged. Luckily, Ron pulled him back in time before he ran out into the street to curse Zabini to jelly, for just then a couple passed them talking.

So for the time being, he stood idly by as his former Slytherin classmate deepened his grip on his girlfriend's bottom. Ginny sent unmistakable signals with her eyes to Harry and Ron.

'Come upstairs with me,' Zabini asked with a pleading look that made Harry almost pity him, but at the same time made him hate him even more. 'I live not far from here.'

Ginny was trying to stall for time.

'Have you moved out from your mum's?' she asked with indifferent interest.

'Yes,' said the boy, 'I wanted a little autonomy. But let's not talk about my mother now.'

Harry saw her rolling her eyes. Zabini finally pulled away from her and looked at her. Harry knew that look when he looked at a girl like that. Zabini slowly moved his lips towards Ginny's mouth.

'Wait!' she told him, and he looked as disappointed as a child when it didn't get the chocolate it had been promised. 'Sorry, I just... I don't want my brother or Lee Jordan to see us. Let's just go in here in the dark...'

Harry and Ron were ready, wands hidden in their cloaks, pointed at the approaching boy, who would not let go of Ginny's hand for a moment. No sooner had they entered the alley than Zabini stopped the surprised girl, tilted her against the shop wall and kissed her. Harry lunged forward again, but Ron stopped him again.

'Don't mess around,' he growled in his face, but immediately saw why he was being held back again: a group of people were passing by the alley, one of them even spotted the pair hiding in the dark and grinned at them.

While they were gone, Zabini did not let go of Ginny, who was helplessly fumbling with one hand in her bag for her wand. When the coast was finally clear, Harry and Ron jumped out from under the cloak and shouted:

'Stupefy!'

'Impedimenta!'

The Slytherin boy flew off Ginny like a magnet had pulled him off, fainted and collapsed among the dustbins. The whole thing was only noticed by a scraggly cat, who meowed and scampered out of the way of the overturned bin.

'You could have been faster!' Ginny whispered at them. 'What was there to wait for? Did you want to see him rip my dress off?!' she added, addressing Harry.

'People were coming and going, we couldn't risk anyone seeing us!'

Ginny was not impressed, and refused to talk to him. Instead, she took another leaf from the pouch and began to chew on it. Meanwhile, she clamped her hands over her burning chest and watched with satisfaction as Ron tied up Zabini whose head was bleeding.

'It was awful...' she huffed, and then coughed, which, thanks to Aberforth's medicine, now reminded more of a cold.

Harry moved closer to embrace her, but she pushed his hand away.

'This is not what I want right now!' Ginny stopped him. 'I'd rather have another bath...'

They quickly apparated back to the Dumbledore house, but the very large radius of the anti-apparation jinx meant that they were back at the bottom of the hill. They got exhausted from the hill-climbing, Harry and Ron dangling Zabini's unconscious body in front of them, and Ginny trying to keep her stilettos from sinking into the mud. They had to stop halfway through, because this time Harry had a cough; Ginny shared the rest of the leaves with him.

'Finally you've arrived!' said Hermione, greeting them at the front door, smiling with satisfaction at the sight of the floating Zabini.

'Were you able to find out anything about the message?' Harry asked her, just as they reached the top.

'Yes,' she nodded, and invited them in. 'I'm going to tell you everything inside.'

They went into the house, Harry and Ron sat Zabini down on a chair, who was sleeping like a stone. They soothed their coughs by chewing a leaf and then sat down at the table.

'So,' Ron began, 'what did you find out about our dementor? Did he really babble in Swedish?'

Hermione shook her head.

'No, not Swedish, but Old Scandinavian, a Western dialect,' she said. 'Some Viking tribes used this language around the 8th and 10th centuries.'

Aberforth raised his bushy eyebrows, Harry and the others listened intently.

'There was no one at the Ministry who could translate it,' Hermione continued, 'The Department of International Magical Cooperation only got as far as saying it was of Northern origin. So I went to the Department of Linguistics in London.'

'Do wizards have a Department of Linguistics?' Harry wondered.

Hermione smiled mischievously.

'No. But Muggles do,' she said.

Aberforth covered his mouth.

'Did you show a Muggle the Pensieve?' he laughed along with Ron and Ginny. Hermione snorted impatiently.

'Of course I didn't' she snorted. 'I used a recorder.'

'A what?' frowned the old man, puzzled.

Hermione fished an old cassette recorder out of her bag and threw it to Aberforth, who turned it over in his hand with interest.

'It's kind of like a Pensieve, but only "remembers" voices...', she searched for an explanation they could understand, and then sighed at her own words. Harry also shook his head seeing the serious look on Ron's face.

'I recorded the voice of the dementor and played it back for the department leading professor,' Hermione continued, 'He was able to translate a few words from the beginning, but he said he needed time.'

'How long?' asked the old man. Hermione winced.

'One week,' she announced, and everyone groaned in disappointment.

'Then there's not much of a point,' Ginny said miserably. 'We don't have a week left.'

Ron jumped up from the chair and rolled up the sleeve of his sweater.

'Then it's time for Plan B!' he shouted, ready for action, and stepped in front of the sleeping Zabini.

'That's Plan A, you dumb-ass,' his sister muttered, standing beside him to watch the interrogation.

'Why is kidnapping a person our Plan A?' Harry looked at them with a half smile on his face.

'Because I wouldn't bear the gropes for a pathetic Plan B!' Ginny snorted.

Aberforth pointed his wand at Zabini, murmured a soft incantation, and the boy huffed a few breaths, opened his eyes and blinked dazedly at them.

'Hey buddy, what's up?' Ron grinned wickedly in his face. Zabini looked from one to the other in horror, turning his head wildly.

'What... what is this? What is going on?' he asked in alarm, and started to get up from the chair, but Harry pushed him back. The chair wobbled.

'How did I get here?' he continued. 'What is this?'

'Class reunion. What else does it look like?' Hermione said, and Ron and Harry laughed. Ginny was the only one who remained serious, not appreciating this rare moment when Hermione's humour surfaced.

'You kidnapped me?!' Zabini cried, and tried to get up again. Harry pushed him back again, and five wands were pointed at him.

'What do you want from me?'

'Where was Voldemort's headquarters?' Harry threw the question into to his face. Zabini sat shocked as if he had been slapped.

'What? No... there was no such place...'

'You're lying!' he snarled at him harshly, and poked him in the chest with the wand, which threw a tiny spark. Ginny put her hand gently on his shoulder in warning. Zabini noticed the gesture.

'You are dating Potter?' he looked both disappointed and angry. 'What a waste…' Then he turned to Harry: 'How does it feel, Potter, that your girlfriend is a real little...'

At that instant Harry hit him with an enormous slap.

'Don't dare to finish this sentence!' he warned.

Zabini didn't dare utter any more disparaging words, he just kept quiet like a fish. Ginny moved back unnoticed beside Aberforth, and stopped looking at his face.

Now Ron was giving it a try.

'We know you knew the Death Eaters!' he said to their captive. 'We're curious to know where you met.'

'What the...?', Zabini gasped.

'Come on, where were the pyjama parties with Voldi?' Ron got in his face, threatening him with the glowing end of his wand.

Zabini was too embarrassed to respond right away, so it took him a moment to compose himself.

'I-I-I don't know,' he stammered. 'They always met in different places. Here and there... Malfoy told me!' he added quickly.

Ron laughed again.

'Keep going!' Hermione encouraged, striking a somewhat kinder tone than the boys. Their former Slytherin classmate swallowed hard.

'I've only met the Dark Lord once,' he said, 'at the Malfoy mansion ... that's where we met.'

Harry shook his head.

'We are not interested in the Malfoy house. Where else have there been meetings, what else have you heard about? Where else could one meet Voldemort?'

Zabini startled at the name.

'They always met in one of the Purebloods' houses,' he said. 'Mostly at Malfoy's, but he also went to Nott's... yes, he had a meeting there. And I think Yaxley's... and some Peverell's, and maybe once at the Crabbes'...'

'Peverell?' Harry said. He and his friends exchanged a telling look.

'Where is Peverell House, Blaise?' asked Hermione.

'I don't know!' Zabini huffed as he gathered his courage. 'Didn't I tell you that I didn't go to the meetings?! I wasn't a Death Eater!' he shouted in their faces. Then he slid his chair back and stood up. Harry didn't sit him back down this time.

'Malfoy went to every meeting, even Crabbe and Goyle weren't always there! Because we were not... we were not marked!' he continued, moving away from them slightly. Harry and his friends were watching him attentively. 'Pansy also only met him once... My mother told me the name of the Peverells, she always said she wanted a house like that...'

Harry raised his eyebrows.

'Was your mother in that house?'

Zabini fell silent. You could see on his face that he was cursing himself for his reckless clucking, but it was too late to take it back.

'Get your mother here, Zabini,' Ron ordered.

'What? I'm not calling her, you're crazy!' he shouted at them.

But they were adamant, and instead of further persuasion and reasoning, they cursed him with an itching curse. Zabini began scratching and moaning madly, stomping in one place, then sprawled on the floor and rubbed himself against the floor. Aberforth, Ron and Harry laughed out loud at him.

'All right, all right!' the boy raised his hands defensively. 'I'll call her... but on one condition!'

Ron took a step forward, pointing his wand at Zabini's chest, who was twitching his muscles wildly.

'You're in no position to set conditions,' he growled in his face.

'Just promise not to curse her with anything!' as he said, his eyes reflecting genuine fear. 'Swear you won't hurt my mum!'

Ron's expression didn't change a bit, but Hermione immediately agreed.

'We won't hurt her, I promise,' she said reassuringly, and then lifted the curse.

The Slytherin boy looked at them for a moment, trying to decide if he could trust them. Finally, with a sigh, he let out the breath he had been holding and lowered his hand.

'All right,' he said again, a little more calmly. 'I believe you.'

He swallowed hard in disbelief, but with a determined gesture he stepped over to the fireplace, where the fire was already blazing – Ginny had sprinkled a handful of Floo dust in it earlier, just when it looked like he was going to give in.

'Belladonna Zabini!' the boy said to the fireplace, and stuck his head into the licking flames.

For a few seconds nothing happened, they just waited. Finally they heard a deep female voice echoing from the fireplace.

'Blaise? Why are you calling so late? Is something wrong?' Zabini cleared his throat in embarrassment.

'The thing is... I need your help, Mum...'

'At this hour?' they heard the whining reply. 'I was just about to go to bed. Can't it wait until tomorrow?'

'Unfortunately not,' said his son. 'You must come to Dumbledore House right now!'

'Alright then if it's that import...' then he got stuck. 'Where am I supposed to go?!'

Zabini was really embarrassed now, his legs shaking as he knelt in front of the fire, and it was only after a long while that he responded to his mother's whimpering.

'I am here in Dumbledore House,' he repeated, and then continued in an almost pleading tone: 'Mum, please come over! Now!'

Mrs Zabini did not give in easily.

'But what are you doing in that house?!' he continued to question him. 'Did you break in? I told you to stay away from your old classmates!' her mother suddenly changed to a stern tone. 'I can't stress enough to you how important it is to keep a low profile nowadays.'

'Mum...' Zabini tried to interject in vain.

'If the Weasleys find out you've broken into Albus Dumbledore's home, we're in big trouble!' Mrs Zabini was now in a rage. 'We'll both get locked up, believe me!'

'MOTHER!' her son snapped, losing patience. 'Come over here! Now! Please...'he pressed the last word.

For a few moments no one spoke again, only the crackling of the fire as it licked Zabini's head softly.

'Very well,' his mother agreed reluctantly. 'Stand back, I'm coming over.'

Like a crab, Zabini got out of the fire on all fours and stood up. Harry, Ron and Aberforth exchanged silent messages and all pointed their wands at the fireplace.

The green flames flickered high and a swirling figure appeared in the fireplace. As the fire died down, a tall, quite attractive woman with a prominent cheekbone and dark skin lowered her head and stepped out onto the worn carpet. She was wearing a mauve nightgown and a white lace cloak, the latter tied around her waist, when she looked up and saw the wands pointed at her.

'What is this?' she stopped, startled. 'What's happening?!'

Zabini immediately rushed forward, and Ron instantly pointed his wand at him. Ginny and Hermione watched the scene from the background.

'Mum, don't be afraid,' her son tried to reassure Mrs Zabini, and gently took her hand before reaching for her wand. 'They won't hurt us.'

The woman then tore her attention away from the men in ambush and looked at her son.

'No?' she raised her voice as he noticed Zabini's temple, and ran a long finger over the recently bleeding wound. 'Blaise, they attacked you!'

It crossed Harry's mind that it wouldn't have hurt to treat his wounds before he had his mother brought in.

'What have they done to you?' with her other hand she took her son's chin and turned it upwards so that she could have a better look. 'Did they hurt you? Did they torture you, Blaise?'

Zabini gently pulled his mother's hand away from his face.

'No...' he muttered with downcast eyes. 'No, it was just an accident.'

'An accident?!' the woman cried out loud. 'You should know, my boy, that there are no coincidences when it comes to Harry Potter!' she waved her hand at them.

Ginny started to cough, and Mrs Zabini noticed the girls.

'Are you the Weasley girl my son is so crazy about?' she sneered at Ginny, who was two heads shorter than her. 'Ginevra, is it?'

The girl nodded defiantly, and took another gherkin leaf.

'You asked my son out, huh? So that you could take him prisoner,' then she looked at him, angry and hurt. 'Is that why you cancelled dinner with your mother tonight? You expected to spend the evening with this little goose!'

'Hey, hey, hey!' cried Ron, raising his wand higher into Belladonna Zabini's face. 'Watch your mouth, lady!'

The woman looked down at him with a stare like he was dirt on the soles of her shoes.

'Get that thing out of my face, Ronald Weasley!' she snarled at him in anger. 'I'm no threat to you or the new... Weasley rule,' she spat in disgust.

Ron grinned at her, and lowered the wand slightly, now pointing at her waist. Belladonna Zabini turned away from him and looked at the others present. Her gaze slowly passed Harry's forehead, not even appreciated Hermione for more than a second, and settled on the old man hiding in the shadows of the stairs leading upstairs.

'You're Aberforth Dumbledore, aren't you?' she spoke when she recognised him. I read about your pub in the Evening Prophet. I'm sorry for your loss...'

Aberforth gave a satisfied whistle.

'Madam, you are a true lady,' he bowed to her theatrically, pretending to raise his hat to her. 'They never even thought of saying this.'

Harry saw that Hermione, Ginny and Ron's heads had changed colours to that of a beet.

'I'm not surprised,' she observed bitterly.

Hermione had evidently had enough of the scuffling, and approached their prisoners with her hands folded.

'Mrs Zabini,' she said. 'We need your help...'

'Hah! How surprising!' the woman replied. 'You have chosen an interesting way of asking for help.'

Harry also stepped forward and lowered his arm. Now Ron was the only one pointing the wand at them.

'Unfortunately, we had no choice,' Harry tried to excuse himself, 'We're short of time and it's very important that we find the house that Voldemort called his home.'

The two Zabinis flinched in horror at the dreaded name; they were the first people Harry had seen react like that in a long time.

The woman looked surprised and gaped, as if trying to understand the question.

'There…' she began slowly. 'There is no such house.'

Harry saw Ron knit his eyebrows. In the meantime, he sat down on the edge of the table; his arm was probably tired, resting it on his thigh, still pointing the wand at his prisoners.

'Mum' said Zabini, 'they want to know about the Peverell house.'

Mrs Zabini blinked rapidly as she was thinking.

'The Peverell House?' she asked back, a gleam of interest in her eyes.

Aberforth and the four good friends listened in silence, yet noise filled the room. The sounds of the night came in, crickets chirping and owls hooting.

'I know where the Peverell house is,' Belladonna Zabini continued, then shook her head. 'But I never thought it would be the home of the Dark Lord.'

She went silent again, and Harry felt he had to do something to get her to really help them. So he put his wand away and put his arm around Ron's hand, motioning for him to do the same. Ron grimaced hesitantly, then shrugged his shoulders and finally obeyed. Mrs Zabini did notice, and seemed immediately calmer.

'Could you please tell us what you know about the house, ma'am?' Harry put on his best manners.

'The Dark Lord did indeed stay there a few times, but we never held a meeting in that house,' Mrs Zabini replied. She adjusted her cloak and put her hands in her arms.

Harry frowned.

'I thought you weren't a Death Eater,' he asked in a veiled question.

She shook her head and brushed her glossy black hair from her face with sloppy elegance.

'The Dark Lord did not wish me to join his Death Eaters,' she answered, 'He must have known that I am not a good duellist or fighter. Nevertheless, he did occasionally expected people appear in front of him who...' here she stopped, and turned round in alarm, as if frightened by what she had said.

'Who supported him,' Hermione finished instead.

For the first time, Mrs Zabini looked at her, frozen, her hand clutched to her chest, waiting to see what would happen.

'Don't be afraid, madam, we won't hurt you,' Harry tried to reassure her again. 'We are only interested in the house.'

Belladonna Zabini swallowed, then took a deep breath and breathed again:

'I have been summoned three times to the Dark Lord. The first time he questioned me about my late husband, and the second time he asked if he could count on my support for the new order he was building. This was all before he disappeared...' she said. 'These conversations took place in the Peverell house. The last time I spoke to him was two years ago, before they took over the Ministry. At that time almost all meetings were held at the Malfoy house.'

Mrs Zabini sighed again, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders, then spread her arms and added: 'If there is a house one could call the Dark Lord's home, it would be the Malfoy mansion. But that is a very strange way of putting it...'

Harry and his friends looked at each other, while she continued to talk.

'The Dark Lord never had a home, nor money. We never knew where he slept – maybe he was afraid someone would try to kill him in his sleep... I don't know. But the fact is that neither I nor any of his Death Eaters ever saw him eat or drink... not once. It's like he thought these things to be something shameful... too human.'

Hermione was the only one not paying attention. It was only when she had finished that she asked another question:

'Mrs Zabini, when were your first two meetings with Voldemort... (the two prisoners here again cringed in fear)... which took place in Peverell House?'

She thought about the question for a moment, and finally answered:

'The first was in 1972, the second just before the Godric's Hollow murders.'

Harry was also thinking feverishly. Was Voldemort preparing to take over just before he was pulverized and his power dissolved into nothing? A bit odd timing, Harry thought.

'So, we can say,' Hermione raised her voice, 'that Voldemort had meetings in that house for at least nine years.'

Mrs Zabini raised a finger.

'That doesn't mean that he was there all the time,' she retorted. 'As I said, he never organised any joint meetings in that house. He couldn't have! There was no room in the Peverells' house with room for forty people.'

They digested what they had heard, and all felt it was still not enough to be sure.

'How many people were in the Peverell House at most?' Harry asked another question. Ron, Ginny and Hermione all looked at him. Aberforth continued to crouch by the stairs, and did not wish to intervene.

Mrs Zabini put her hands on her hips, as if she was tired of questions.

'I don't remember, Potter,' she sighed wearily. 'It was a long time ago. But there couldn't have been many. Maybe just one or two... Or maybe no one, except him. The Dark Lord opened the door.'

Ron gasped.

'Voldemort opened the door for his guests himself?' he snorted.

Harry didn't think it was so strange, however, and felt that it could finally be used as evidence.

'Of course not by hand, Weasley,' said Mrs Zabini, 'Magic opened the door and showed the way. Like a whisper in my head that only I could hear, it drew me upstairs to a small room that was almost empty...'

'Except for a single armchair,' Harry finished instead. 'Right? With a high back, placed in the middle of the room, directly opposite a mirror.'

Mrs Zabini's eyes widened; her son looked from his mother to Harry and back again, puzzled. The others looked a little confused.

'How do you know about this?'

'I've seen that room,' Harry replied.

He remembered the place vividly. He had sleepwalked through it countless nights during his fifth year, almost as often as he had walked down the windowless corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries. It was there that he had witnessed the torture of the Death Eater Avery for giving Voldemort the wrong advice to obtain the Prophecy, and there that he had first noticed that he was seeing the world through the eyes of the Dark Lord.

He cleared his throat and took a step towards his captives.

'Ma'am, can you take us to the Peverell house? Now.'

A few moments of silence followed.

'It's no use taking you there,' Mrs Zabini shook her head at last. 'I can't open the door...'

'You don't have to worry about that,' Harry interjected confidently.

He thought so for two reasons: firstly, the blue-skinned man had simply asked them to find the house, they didn't need to go inside. And secondly, he thought that as probably one of the last living descendants of Ignotus Peverell, he would be able to open the door, just as the house and the house-elf had been forced to obey the disowned Sirius.

'All right,' Mrs Zabini agreed, 'but then you let us both go, understand? And after that you leave us alone! And you...' she pointed a trembling hand at Ginny. 'You will not go near my son again!'

Ginny smiled wickedly at her.

'I'll find a way to control myself,' she muttered under his breath.

'Good,' she acknowledged, turning to Harry again and spreading her arms. 'Then we can go.'

Ron went ahead, leading the way into the garden for the two Zabinis, followed by Ginny and Hermione. Aberforth stopped Harry in the doorway.

'Potter, give me the cloak!' he whispered to him. 'I'll follow you.'

Harry slipped the invisibility cloak into his hand without arguments and followed Ginny and Hermione into the courtyard. Ron and the Zabinis were already making their way down the winding path; Mrs Zabini was shivering audibly in the night chill. Her son obligingly took off his coat and laid it on his mother. For some inexplicable reason, Harry felt a moment of unpleasant guilt.

'Hold my hand,' Mrs Zabini held out her arm to Ron, even though Hermione was much closer.

His son took her other hand, who took Hermione's, who took Harry's, and he grabbed Ginny, who was grasping an invisible hand behind her back. Together, they plunged into the suffocating void, which made them feel even tighter than usual – Harry blamed it on the power of the curse burning his lungs.

Their feet hit the asphalt hard, and at the same time all four of them had a severe coughing attack. The heat hit harder than ever.

'What's wrong with you?' Mrs Zabini winked at them.

Harry was hunched over, more soot than ever before was falling from his mouth, and in the darkness of the night he seemed to be coughing up tiny, glowing sparks.

'By Merlin's beard!' the Slytherin boy whispered in horror.

'You were cursed!' his mother recognized the mystery, and pulled her son away from them. 'Cursed, am I right?'

No one answered, because no one was in a state to speak. Harry was beginning to be seriously frightened; never had the attack lasted so long. He felt someone slip a wadded-up leaf into his hand, which he bit into without thinking and began to chew furiously. For a terrifying moment, it seemed that the burr gherkin leaf was of no use, as he continued to sputter ash and sparks, but then the coughing subsided and slowly passed.

Harry got up; his friends had stopped coughing, but the curse still worked: the skin around their eyes was red, their faces were ashen and sickly, and they seemed to have lost a lot of weight. The life was draining out of all four of them.

'What is happening to you?' Mrs Zabini whispered in a cold voice.

Again she got no answer, instead Hermione asked her another question:

'Where are we?' she asked urgently.

Mrs Zabini took a few steps back and looked at them as if she saw a ghost. Hermione repeated the question, a little more forcefully.

'Upper Flagley' the answer finally came.

Mrs Zabini set off down the dark, unlit road, still looking terrified.

'Many wizards live here,' she said to distract herself. 'My grandfather was born here...'

Harry was a little surprised: Belladonna Zabini must have been in a chatty mood, telling a Muggle born about her grandfather. From what he'd heard of her before (she'd been married seven times, each husband mysteriously dying shortly after the wedding), a money-hungry, proud, Pureblood, murderous Bellatrix Lestrange appeared in his imagination when he thought of Mrs Zabini. Again and again he had to remind himself not to trust her, for behind her surprisingly normal exterior most likely lurked a vile murderer.

They rounded a corner, and passed through tall, well-trimmed hedges. In one of the gardens, Harry was surprised to see a hippogriff grazing, and this made him forget his worries. How on earth had they allowed this figure to keep a hippogriff among Muggles? Hermione noticed the animal too, and tsked.

'We have arrived,' Mrs Zabini announced, stopping in front of a tall, old, sinister building, the walls of which seemed to be a single solid black stone, as if carved by a sculptor from a huge solid rock.

The black walls of the house gleamed like crystals, reflecting the lights of the night. Interestingly, it had the exact same effect as the dark surface of the Resurrection Stone – Harry was sure it was hidden from the neighbours, for that alone, as such a structure would draw the eye from afar.

The walls were not vertical, but held together with a steep slope, forming a truncated pyramid. A massive black tiled roof covered the angular façade, the windows were triangular, and a small staircase led up to the front door.

'Not bad...' came Ginny's astonished voice.

'Fits Voldemort, doesn't it?' Ron countered.

Mrs Zabini grabbed her son by the shoulder and they moved away, and Harry, amazed, approached with his friends. He knew he needn't worry about the Zabinis, Aberforth was probably keeping an eye on them.

They admired the wrought-iron fence with the triangular symbol of the Deathly Hallows in the middle of its double-winged gate, which opened exactly where the triangle was bisected by the straight line of the Deathstick.

Such typical ignorance, thought Harry, that Voldemort was surrounded by these symbols and had never questioned the meaning behind them, which later led to his downfall...

Harry looked down at the door handle and gently took hold of it.

'Now comes the moment of truth,' Ron muttered, and they all held their breath.

Harry pushed the handle and the gate opened.

Then the curse struck them again, insidiously, unexpectedly. Coughing, Harry leaned against the gate as it swung fully open, and he fell face-first onto the pavement leading to the entrance.

'Harry... cough...'said Ginny in a frightened, hoarse voice, then helped him up. 'Are... you alright?'

He did not reply. With his hand over his mouth, he stumbled forward through the metres of weeds towards the front door. Wasting no time, he scrambled up the stairs and placed his hand on the button-like handle. He noticed that it too was decorated with the symbol of the Hallows. The door opened obediently, revealing a dusty black hallway.

'We... cough...found it!' shouted Harry over his shoulder, as he looked down the hall and saw the final proof: someone had affixed a green Slytherin coat of arms to the archway at the end of the corridor, so different from the triangles that decorated every corner of the house.

Ginny, Hermione and Ron couldn't show their joy because they were getting worse. Harry himself was shaking horribly from coughing, which was making his stomach churn and nauseous. He began to smell a strange, musty odour on the hand he held to his mouth, which penetrated his nostrils.

The Zabinis were still standing in the same place, a little hesitant, when suddenly the small dead end was covered in a chilling darkness. Everyone drew their wands at once, but they could do nothing.

The dementor came from above, descending between Harry and his friends.

'Expecto...!' yelled Ginny, but the creature beat her to it. It made a wide gesture with its withered hand as the two girls and Ron fell to the concrete outside the gate, Hermione even dropping her wand. Harry rushed down the stairs, swinging his wand in a flurry, but he couldn't finish the spell either. A loud pop, and the tall, blue-skinned man materialised in front of him, jabbing him in the forehead with his wand as he staggered backwards. Before Harry knew it, he was lying on his back on the weedy pavement.

'Merlin's beard!' he heard Mrs Zabini scream. 'What's going on?!'

The blue-skinned one laughed, his eyes like lanterns scanning them.

'Watch them,' he said calmly to the dementor, who left the prone trio and slowly floated towards the Zabinis.

'Expecto Patronum!' said Belladonna Zabini, as a shiny, four-legged patronus appeared before her.

The dementor was not particularly bothered by it, but it did not approach them, only began to circle lazily around the two figures, as if a shark were stalking the fish.

'I see you've found the house,' said the blue-skinned man to Harry, and raised his wand-hand; the end of the wand glowed purple. Harry felt as if his lungs were bursting inside him, the curse was seizing him like some insidious monster, burning and destroying his insides, and he felt as if he would die in a moment.

'Let me express my congratulations!' the wizard said theatrically, and bowed low before his prone victims.

Harry suddenly felt a rush of clean air into his lungs, and he embraced it like a guardian angel's salvaging hug. He felt a little better, and had strength enough to pull himself up on all fours.

'I told you that you could find this house!' grinned the blue-skinned man. 'But you do have to admit you could use the little help I sent with my friend, huh?

'Go to hell,' Harry shouted in his face. He grinned even wider at that.

'I've just come from there...' he said, and left him in the lurch.

He walked up the stairs beside him, into the house, his black cloak and raven-black hair merging with the darkness inside.

Harry crept closer to his friends, looking up at the Zabinis, who were safe for the moment behind the shelter of a panther-patronus. The dementor just hovered around them, grunting in a low voice.

Ron was unconscious and Ginny had passed out earlier from the pain from lack of air. Hermione was still struggling, but she could no longer move.

'Harry...!' she moaned, a thin line of blood running from her mouth. 'Harry, go after him!'

Hermione looked terrible, and Harry couldn't bear to see her suffer. The fiery ash mingled with the blood, spreading like a sticky mass across the asphalt in front of her.

'It shouldn't be, we should still have time...' said Harry desperately.

'Go after him!' Hermione repeated.

Harry put his arm around her, holding her head so she wouldn't choke.

'I'm not leaving you!' he said, and for the first time in a long time, a tear escaped his eye.

It was then that he realised that all the time since the blue-skinned man had appeared, he had not been afraid for his own life, but for theirs. That they had to suffer again, and he always survives. Somehow he knew he would survive this too, so he wasn't afraid. Death didn't scare him, only their deaths...

'Go,' Hermione begged, and Harry had a thought that she didn't want him to be there when it happened. 'Please, go...'

Harry obeyed with a muffled pounding head. He gently laid Hermione on the floor, stood up and stumbled dazedly through the door. He didn't have to guess where the wizard was, the sounds of mumbling and footsteps came down from upstairs. He followed the sounds up the stairs, clinging to the solid black stone railing. Halfway up, he had to stop again, the curse knocking him to the ground. Minutes passed as he coughed, clutching his chest, and when it finally stopped, he could feel warm liquid dripping down his chin.

He went up on all fours, and climbing the last stair, he saw the blue-skinned wizard through an open door, frantically searching for something in a large chest.

'It must be here!' he growled, and with a wild flick of his wand he threw the crate into the corner, shattering it. 'Where have you put it, Riddle?'

Harry got better again for a while, stood up, but didn't dare let go of the handrail. The wizard noticed him standing there staring at him, but ignored him. He strode out of the room, passed Harry, and went through another door. From behind a third, closed door, Harry smelled an awful odour, like the rotting carcass of a dead animal. The stench overpowered his own musty smell, but he tried to move away from it.

With a great crash, the blue-skinned man tore up the dusty floorboards of the room, which now floated under the ceiling.

'Not here either!' the wizard summarised, and flicked his wand. The planks fell back into place.

He walked out the door, passed Harry again, and slammed the locked door. The smell was getting stronger, but the blue-skinned man didn't mind a bit. He went in and turned this room upside down. Harry looked over his shoulder, and immediately saw the source of the fumes: in one corner was the body of a huddled man who appeared to have starved to death. His light blue robes and beard made him look familiar to Harry from somewhere, but he wasn't sure where he had met him.

The blue-skinned man was not interested in the dead man, and disrespectfully pushed him aside with a spell just to search one of the cupboards.

'I don't understand it...' he shook his head, his long hair swaying softly. Harry summoned up his courage and asked the question that had been bothering him:

'What... what are you looking for?'

He looked back at him, but did not answer. As he turned, however, his gaze skimmed over the dried-out corpse and caught a glimpse of something. Ignoring the foul stench, he knelt down and smiled. With clawed blue fingers, he reached forward and spread the dead man's hand, clutching some oblong object. Harry thought at first it was a wand, but as the blue-skinned man passed him with his loot in his hand, he saw it was a black candle.

The wizard aimed for the stairs and went up one floor. Harry followed him, limping, to another room, the attic, where he had apparently already been, for the door was waiting, wide open. As he entered, Harry realised that he had been in this room himself – in his sleep. It was the same empty room with the familiar armchair in the middle and the mirror opposite it. The blue-skinned man was facing the mirror, and Harry stumbled beside him.

'Stand back a little!' the wizard said, and when Harry did, he cracked the mirror with his wand. The shards of glass burst out of their places, but were instantly suspended in mid-air before they were cut and slowly floated away.

Harry's mouth dropped open. Behind the mirror was a large map of the world, showing in detail all the continents, islands, oceans and mountains. It was a very artistic creation.

The blue-skinned man was not surprised, lit the candle, which burned with a blue flame, and put away his wand. Holding the black candle in both hands, he held it in front of the map as if in prayer.

'Show me your secret!' he said firmly.

Many, many glowing dots appeared on the map, as if the flame of the candle had just been split into parts. Harry observed the dots: each one seemed to mark a specific place, and there must have been at least twenty or thirty of them. He looked instinctively at Britain: there was only one glowing dot, in the south-west of Scotland, near an oblong lake. No doubt it was Hogwarts, Harry thought.

'Are these wizarding schools?' he asked, forgetting who was standing next to him, and wiping the blood and soot from his chin.

'Mm-hmm,' the blue-skinned man nodded, then raised the candle again. 'Now show me where they are hiding!' he ordered again.

A number of dots have disappeared from the map, including Hogwarts and one on the Mediterranean coast in France. But there was still one in the Himalayas, on an island in the Aegean Sea, at the northernmost point of Norway, in Central America, South America, India, Siberia and the southernmost tip of New Zealand.

For minutes, neither of them said a word, just looking at the map, memorising the location of the eight glowing dots. Harry wanted to make sure he remembered each of their locations exactly, because he knew he was seeing something very important.

The blue-skinned man blew out the candle, then simply threw it on the ground and walked out the door, cloak rustling. The glowing dots faded and then disappeared, and Harry followed the wizard downstairs, already feeling the curse attack again.

The sorcerer burst out of the door, dashed along the pavement, and sloppily called to the dementor, 'I'm done. We can go.'

'Wait!' shouted Harry, who had just emerged from the doorway. He had to cling to the doorjamb, he was so sick. 'Take off... take off the curse!'

The blue-skinned man turned and looked at him for a long moment, as if trying to decide what to do. The dementor, meanwhile, began to speak in a crackling, coarse language.

'I know...' the wizard replied, then put on his theatrical grin and walked back towards Harry and his friends. He drew his wand. 'Truth be told, you did prove to be useful. And after all it was you who defeated Riddle, I'll give you that...' there was a long pause, then a sigh. 'Alright.'

He waved the wand, as if to call something back, and Harry's body tensed backwards at that moment, and he fell. He felt the agony of the scorching heat escape through his chest from it, lifting him off the ground again, just floating like a helpless feather. He could already see the purple fire serpent emerging from his chest, coiling back into the blue-skinned sorcerer's wand. When the operation was complete, he fell back to the ground.

He heard the wizard repeat it on Hermione, Ron and Ginny, and prayed that it was not too late for them.

'There,' said the man, as he finished, 'I'll leave you in peace from now on... Though don't put money on that!' he added laughing. 'I may require your services again.'

Harry stood up, hurried feebly to his friends, and was pleased to see that all three were beginning to wake up.

The blue-skinned man flicked the wand again, this time towards the Peverell House behind them. The building burst into flames, a fire roaring and thundering, and Harry leaned on Ginny for protection. He needn't have worried, the destruction was consuming the house alone, breaking its windows and the flames coalescing into strange shapes: fiery chimeras, snakes and dragons coiled in and out of windows, through gaps in the roof, burning everything in their path.

'Fiendfyre,' Harry heard Hermione whisper, and they both stared at the destruction, mesmerized.

Ginny and Ron were not yet conscious enough to realise what was going on around them, only their confused expressions and narrowed eyes showed that they could feel the heat that was radiating towards them.

Meanwhile, the dementor started to speak again, audibly louder than before. The blue-skinned man no longer paid any attention to the house that was being destroyed, but stopped outside the gate and listened to his companion.

'Is this true?' the wizard said to the dementor, then slowly looked at the terrified Zabinis.

They stood there behind the panther patronus' protection, as if the earth were about to open up beneath them. Blaise Zabini's forehead was dripping sweat and his mother was shaking like a leaf. Harry was not surprised: the full power of the strange dementor was upon them.

'Is what he says true?' the blue-skinned man asked again, looking straight at Belladonna Zabini with his glowing eyes.

She just hemmed and hawed, unable to put it into words.

'Did you kill them?' the sorcerer continued in an accusing tone, and moved closer to them. 'All seven?'

Mrs Zabini began to shake her head wildly, her fear overwhelming her, causing the patronus to blur and then disappear. The blue-skinned man was just waiting for that, moving towards her with firmer steps, and the dementor grunted triumphantly, as if the table had been set for him.

'They trusted you,' the blue-skinned man continued, and was now only an arm's length away. 'All seven of them. And you...'

Mrs Zabini screamed and staggered back from the lantern-like eyes. Her son rushed to her aid and aimed his wand at the wizard, but no charm escaped his lips: the dementor seized him by the throat and lifted him from the ground, flying him high into the blackness, out of Harry's sight. Hermione began to cry.

'Blaise!' screamed Mrs Zabini, looking for her son. The blue-skinned man knelt down to her.

'How did it feel, eh?' he asked her, ignoring her frantic screams. 'How was every lying word to seven loving men? How was the false embrace, the false kiss?' leaning closer to her, Harry could clearly see both of their faces from where they were kneeling with Hermione next to Ron and Ginny.

'What's the matter?' whispered the sorcerer. 'So exchange a kiss with me as well...'

'Avada Kedavra!' Mrs Zabini shouted, pointing her wand at the frightening figure's head.

The spell burst forth, filling the street with its green light, drowning out the fiery glow of the still blazing house.

Harry couldn't believe his eyes, Hermione stifled a stunned groan; the spell hadn't worked. The demon-eyed man pressed his lips to the protesting Mrs Zabini's mouth, knocking the wand from her hand, pinning down her flailing arms.

At that moment, a lifeless body fell from the sky beside them.

'NO!' screamed Hermione at the top of her lungs as she recovered from her fright and saw the twisted body of her former classmate. A dark puddle spread across the asphalt beneath Zabini's head. The blue-skinned man had also let go of the woman, who hung motionless in his arms, her lifeless body drained of what had made her human. As he let go, she collapsed on the ground, staring in front of her, not even noticing her son's body.

The wizard looked back at Harry and the screaming Hermione. He didn't smile this time, just waved his hand and immediately disapparated. The dementor, too, faded into the black night, the stars, the natural light of the crescent moon, returning. One of the walls of the house had collapsed.

Aberforth then pulled the invisibility cloak off his head. His face was as white as a whitewashed wall, and he seemed to be overcome with sickness.

'I'm sure of only one thing,' said the old man, on the third try, 'This guy is not a necromancer...'