Chapter 63 – Away Without Leave
It was a difficult business, this task which Harry had set for himself. He was under no illusions as to how difficult it would be to take out the snake—he well remembered her size in his first vision, and the way she had attacked Arthur, rendering him unable to defend himself in an instant. Trust Voldemort to choose the most vicious, dangerous, and venomous snake he could find as a familiar—or at least the one which was available, as the basilisk would not have made a particularly practical familiar. Or perhaps it was more correct to say that only such a creature would choose such a reprehensible being as Voldemort to be her familiar human. Regardless of all this, he knew that even discounting the benefits the snake had gained by becoming a horcrux, it would be difficult and dangerous to take out.
Of course the entire endeavor would be fraught with danger. Not only would he be deep in his enemy's territory with only a portkey allowing him to escape, but should he misstep once, he would bring the entirety of the Dark Lord's forces down on his head. Care and caution would be required to pull this off, and a certain amount of luck would not be amiss either.
But his course was set and he would not deviate from it. In fact, the more he thought about the situation, the more he became convinced that this was the only way to do the deed. Anyone else who assailed the snake and who managed to kill it would only find themselves in the same predicament that Harry was in. He could not allow that to happen—anything was preferable to being forced to live with a portion of a madman's soul residing in his body, knowing that at any time he could be forced to vacate it, but to continue to be tied to the earth, waiting for the monstrosity who had put him in that position to finally be defeated.
The other part of the equation was his friends. Due to his friendship with Hermione, she had been keeping tabs on him for years, and as he and Fleur had gotten closer, she had as well. But ever since the revelation about the true nature of horcruxes, the two of them had been watching him even closer. He still managed to evade them from time to time, and there were a few spots where he could go to be alone, which they had not managed to find, as long as he had the presence of mind to ensure he carried the map with him.
But it was getting much harder to give them the slip. Not only were they more vigilant, but they now had Ron and the twins keeping track of him, not to mention how Ginny watched him closely as well. And as the club in general knew that something was amiss, he found that he was the target of much scrutiny from many members of the club, and most particularly, by those of his extended group of friends.
For someone as private and attention-shy as Harry, it was more than a little annoying, if he was to be honest with himself. But he also knew that if he was to get snappish with someone, they would just back off and watch him all that much closer, though from afar. His plan depended on his being able to sneak away at a moment's notice—or when he had confirmation that Nagini was out hunting or patrolling near Voldemort's lair. Thus, the more he was watched, the more difficult it would be to get away quickly. And as he did not know how long Nagini would be out when she left Voldemort's lair, it was imperative that he quickly respond should the situation demand it.
That those around him—the Delacours, Dumbledore, Sirius, not to mention his peers amongst the students—would disapprove of what he was planning, Harry did not consider any further. That they would not like what he was doing was a given, but he decided it did not matter. At the end of it all it was his choice, and the situation demanded that Nagini be removed without the possibility of the soul shard in her being passed on to someone else. He was the only one to do it. And if he was very fortunate, perhaps he could leave, kill the snake, and return without anyone being the wiser. Then when the snake was discovered dead—Snape would likely bring word of it back once Voldemort discovered it himself—Harry could declaim all knowledge of the fact. He was proficient enough at Occlumency that he figured Dumbledore would need to move to active Legilimency to be able to discover that he was behind it.
But even if he was discovered, he would bear the reprimands cheerfully, if only he was able to kill the snake. Killing the creature would make it all better, of that he was certain.
Thus it was that Harry went through that day and the next trying to discover the snake's movements. At periodic intervals, he relaxed his Occlumency and opened himself up to the connection between himself and the Dark Lord, listening in to his conversations, and attempting to glean whatever information he could. It was a difficult business as, though he heard nothing overt about any plans for the movements of the Dark Lord's forces, the man's words were often disgusting, and the hint or two he caught at times from the man was almost as though his mind was diseased. He wished he did not have a connection with such a repulsive individual—of any kind—but regardless of his distaste, he put up with it so that he might accomplish his goal.
The first time he spied on the Dark Lord, he actually saw a glimpse of Nagini sleeping in the corner of the great room which Voldemort had set up as his throne room. Harry forced himself to suppress his feeling of contempt for the self-aggrandizing man, due to the fact that he was not at all certain that a burst of emotion such as contempt would not prompt his attention. Regardless of the fact that he was disobeying Dumbledore's request that he refrain from opening the link with the Dark Lord, Harry knew that the Headmaster was correct—he did not want Voldemort to discover the link.
Still, there were a few interesting conversations that he picked up on. On an occasion when he opened the link during a mind-numbingly boring instance of history class, he was able to see one whom he would dearly have loved to have in front of him so that he could administer justice to the little twerp.
"I understand from Bellatrix that you are progressing nicely, Draco," the Dark Lord says to the young man standing in front of him.
"Yes, my lord," Draco replies. "Aunt Bellatrix has much to teach me."
Amusement. Contempt. Disappointment.
Harry looks on as Voldemort watches Malfoy prostrate himself. Though the last time he connected with Voldemort he had been unable to see his thoughts, this time the Dark Lord's feelings are as clear as though they were written in big bold letters across his forehead. In fact, now that he thinks about it, Harry realizes that the same thing has happened in the past—when he saw Voldemort back in the fall, he could get a sense of the man's emotions, but in all of his most recent visions, they had been hidden. Harry wonders why—it must be some quirk of the connection between them which at times allowed Harry to see his thoughts, while at others he could not. Or perhaps it was a function of the Dark Lord's own actions and state of mind. Was he being a little less guarded at present?
In the end, Harry decides it does not matter. He is using that connection for his own purposes, and though knowing Voldemort's thoughts is not necessary, it is possible that he might learn something extra, and that would certainly be welcome.
The truth is that Voldemort is skeptical of Malfoy's insistence that he is learning, and Harry suspects that Bellatrix has reported that Draco is not particularly powerful and does not possess more than the rudimentary level of intelligence necessary for him to be even remotely Slytherin in his behavior. Of course Harry has always known this—the git had always been more Gryffindor than Slytherin, and the Ravenclaw in him was almost nonexistent.
It is unfortunate, Voldemort decides, but it seems like Lucius was correct in his assessment of his only son. Draco is a disappointment. The only reason why he is allowed to continue on in such a manner is because the Dark Lord still has a use for him. Once the Ministry has fallen and Voldemort has taken his proper place, there will be no more use for Mr. Malfoy. Perhaps at that time it would be best for the Malfoy line to disappear from the world forever.
Though he is disgusted by Voldemort's ruthless thoughts—regardless of the fact that they are toward someone Harry considers to be beyond redemption—Harry does not react. Really, if Voldemort decides that Malfoy is no longer of any use to him, then that will be just one less bigot for Harry to worry about.
"That is good," Voldemort says aloud, prompting a flush of pleasure from the young man. Again the contempt rolls off the Dark Lord in waves.
"You must be ready when the time comes," Voldemort continues. "Your part in the plan will be essential. You must be prepared."
"I am anticipating my revenge, my lord," Malfoy replies, and Harry can almost see the fanaticism in the boy's eyes. If he had not already known that Malfoy was beyond redemption, this conversation would have proved it. It will not go well for Malfoy should Harry ever cross his path again!
Voldemort's response is another wave of contempt, but it is oddly mixed with a wry feeling of pleasure. If nothing else, the boy is fervent. Reconsidering, Voldemort decides that he will wait to see what happens. Though Draco Malfoy will never be a leader, he might be acceptable as one of his low-level thugs. The Crabbe and Goyle spawn were still useful, after all—perhaps Draco might be as well.
Of course, the difference between them is that Crabbe and Goyle are far too unintelligent to possess any ambition—the one facet of the Slytherin characteristics which Malfoy possesses in spades. But it would not do to be hasty. He would watch and wait, and then know how to act.
From that bit of spying, it was clear that something was happening with Malfoy. Voldemort had given him a task or a challenge of some kind, likely a mission which would allow him to redeem himself in the eyes of the Dark Lord for failing to bring Hermione to him.
But Harry knew that Hermione was supremely competent, and would not fall for Malfoy's trickery again. If the ponce tried anything again with her, Harry had no doubt that he would find himself overmatched by just about anyone in the club. And if Hermione had defeated him with relative ease the previous December, she could now do it in her sleep, Harry was certain. No, there were other, more important things in motion, than the delusional imaginings of a certain ponce.
Late in the evening on Thursday, Harry witnessed another vision of the Dark Lord which was slightly more interesting, but still contained little information.
"Have you found it?"
The Death Eater, one unknown to Harry stands in front of the Dark Lord, his sense one of nervousness and apprehension.
"We did, my lord." His reply is hesitant.
"And?" the Dark Lord prompts, clearly lacking in patience. Again, Harry realizes that he is unable to sense Voldemort's thoughts. It is curious, he decides, but pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind for later contemplation.
"It exists, exactly as you said, my lord." He pauses, as though uncertain whether to continue, before he says in a rush. "But it is very dangerous, my lord. Several times we were attacked and we almost lost—"
"But you found it, correct?" the Dark Lord presses right over the man's stammering.
"We did, my lord," the man confirms, apparently sensing that to do otherwise would undoubtedly be painful and hazardous to his health.
"And what is its state? Can we use it in force?"
The man swallows and for an instant Harry wonders if he will forget himself again and attempt to tell the Dark Lord what he had at the outset. His reason reasserts itself, however, and he nods tightly to the Dark Lord.
"The passage is narrow at the entrance as you said it would be, my lord. A short way in it widens out and proceeds from there."
"And did you follow it all the way in?" Voldemort asks.
"No, my lord. The area is dangerous and we determined that it would be best to retreat and report back."
The Dark Lord looks at the man for a long moment, and Harry can see a trickle of sweat make its way down the man's temple, over his cheek, and down onto his jaw. He does a credible job of hiding his fear, but the expression on his face and the apprehension in the depths of his eyes speaks the level of terror Voldemort inspires in his underlings.
"Very well," Voldemort finally says, though Harry cannot determine whether he was truly on the point of becoming angry, or simply idly intimidating his unfortunate follower. "You will return with a greater force and follow the passage the entire distance to the inner entrance. We must be certain that there are no obstructions."
"Yes, my lord."
The discussion between the Dark Lord and the unnamed Death Eater was one which was much more worrying in Harry's opinion. Draco was a known quantity, and Harry had little respect for the boy's abilities. Voldemort, however, was on a completely different level altogether, and he appeared to have something up his sleeve. What exactly it was Harry could not determine, as the comments had all been vague and no specifics had been discussed. But Harry could not help but feel a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. Whatever it was, it did not sound good, dangerous though it appeared to be for the Dark Lord's forces.
For a brief instance Harry considered taking what he had witnessed to Dumbledore, but reason quickly reasserted itself. Not only would Dumbledore be angry with him and take him to task for once again disobeying and opening the connection to Voldemort, but it was also possible that he would as a consequence be more vigilant where Harry was concerned. And that could make it more difficult for Harry to slip away when the time was right.
"Besides," Harry thought to himself, firmly putting the thought that he was rationalizing from his mind, "it's not as though Dumbledore will know what Voldemort is talking about any more than I do."
Having worked through these thoughts, Harry determined to keep it to himself and continue to work to try and find out Nagini's location. Through the course of that day and the next he often caught glimpses of the snake, lying in the corner, sometimes asleep, sometimes watching the room with that malevolent glare. She was always close to the Dark Lord and rarely moved, though Voldemort often approached her, to gloat over some plan which had gone particularly well, or to shower the creature with affection. Such times made Harry almost feel ill.
His breakthrough came during the afternoon on Friday of that week. He was sitting in class listening to the professor lecturing, when he hazarded a quick glimpse into Voldemort's mind, opening the connection, which was, by now, almost second nature. The Dark Lord had been alone and thinking—once again Harry noted that he could not detect his thoughts—when he had glanced around the room, and Harry was able to see the corner where Nagini usually made her nest. It was empty.
His eyes flying open, Harry had to restrain himself from pumping his fist in jubilation. The snake was not there!
It did not necessarily mean anything, he tried to tell himself, attempting to temper his excitement. It was true that he had never seen Nagini out of Voldemort's presence the whole time he had been spying, but there could be any number of reasons why the snake was now elsewhere. The spying of a single day was a rather small sample from which to draw, after all. If the snake's absence from Voldemort's presence was all he had to go on, he would leave and attempt to find her. If possible, however, he much preferred to have confirmation from the Dark Lord himself that Nagini was out of the hideaway hunting or patrolling. Then he would be more secure in his ability to intercept the snake and finish it off without having to worry about returning at some future date to finish the job.
For the rest of that afternoon, Harry opened up the connection to Voldemort much more often than he had done before, trying to get some confirmation. And though he did not pick up anything interesting from the Dark Lord's interactions with his forces, he also got no indication from the man that the snake was out hunting. The few times he had managed to catch a glimpse of Nagini's corner showed no sign of the snake, which was encouraging, but nothing further. By the end of classes Harry had begun to build up a resolve to go that night, whether he found what he was looking for or not.
In the end, it turned out to be unnecessary.
"Are we ready to proceed with tomorrow's attacks?"
"Yes, my lord."
Harry can feel the satisfaction tinged with impatience coursing through Voldemort as he peers back at the person of his chief lieutenant. Bellatrix, the one he has only caught glimpses of over the past few days, is standing in front of the Dark Lord, her face impassive with her typical expression. Her eyes, however, burn with a dark intensity, the likes of which makes Harry shiver. He can almost sense the madness burning through the dark orbs which are fixed upon Voldemort with a fanatical intensity.
The Dark Lord, however, shows no awareness at all of the close scrutiny under which his underling holds him. Perhaps he is simply used to her ways, or perhaps it is a function of what he believes is only his due. Whatever the reason, Voldemort sits on his throne, thinking of how pleased he is with the woman and how he wishes more of his followers were like her. The very thought causes Harry to suppress a gag—he could not imagine an army of Bellatrix Lestranges, commanded by Voldemort.
"Good, good," the Dark Lord is saying. "Have we noticed any difference in the way the Ministry has been responding?"
"No, my lord," the insane woman replies. "Our forces are usually gone by the time the Aurors arrive on the scene." She hesitates for the briefest moment before she continues, "We are not causing the damage I would have hoped. With the loss of our mole in the portkey department and their stance of passing portkeys out to anyone who asks, it has been much more difficult for our forces to mete out justice than before."
"It is of no matter," Voldemort responds. "The fear and hysteria we are causing is worth as much as killing a few Mudbloods. When we wrest control from Madam Bones, we will be able to take more direct action. For now, be patient."
"Yes, my lord," Bellatrix replies.
"Very well, you are dismissed."
With a bow, Bellatrix begins to make her way from the room. When she is almost at the door, Voldemort speaks up once again.
"Be certain that the guard at the door knows that Nagini is out hunting. We would not wish for another… unfortunate incident like the last time."
"I shall, my lord," Bellatrix replies with a bow, before she exits the room.
A surge of exultation passed through Harry, though this time he is much better able to control his reaction. Instead, he forced himself to consider the situation rationally. Nagini, now that she was out—and had been out for something which was likely close to six hours—would likely be out the whole night before returning to Voldemort's lair some time the following morning. And though Harry could sneak out of the dorms with his invisibility cloak, he realized that even with the cloak, he would be more likely to be discovered than if he left after dark.
Glancing up to the windows of the Gryffindor common room, Harry noted that it appeared that it was likely approaching dinner time. That meant that it was most likely above three hours before sunset, which occurred at about 8:30 in late April. A glance around the room told him that no one appeared to have noticed his sudden distraction or the burst of elation he had felt upon learning that Nagini was out where he wanted her to be. Hermione had her head down, concentrating on an essay for transfiguration, while Fleur sat on the sofa beside him, engrossed in her charms textbook. Their other friends were scattered about the area, each focused on their own tasks. It had become something of a ritual for them to complete their weekend homework as soon as possible on Friday evening, in order to have the weekend free of specific assignments due early the next week. That allowed them to relax over the weekend, and focus on revising, which Hermione was already pushing rather hard.
Silently in the confines of his mind, Harry began to plan what he would do, while giving every indication of concentrating on his homework. In reality he did work on the homework, but he was also building lists in his mind or how he would go about finding and ultimately killing the snake. They continued on in this attitude until dinner time, when the friends packed up their books and made their way down to the Great Hall for dinner.
Dinner passed in the same manner as usual, and before long the friends were engaged in the activities of a typical Friday evening. Hermione excused herself early, citing a need to look up some items in the library. Harry bid his friend goodbye with a smile and a tender kiss, idly thinking that Hermione was spending a lot of time in the library of late—even for her! Still, he decided not to think about it in any great detail that evening; Hermione's absence played quite well into his own plans that night, and he would not question the gift she was giving him.
Shedding Fleur's company, however, proved to be a much more difficult endeavor. His betrothed stuck to him like glue that evening, making conversation in a soft tone of voice, resting her head on his shoulder, sharing brief but intimate kisses, and generally acting as a young woman in love would be expected to. Harry was grateful for her love and support, but on this evening, as her actions were so in conflict with his own planned escape, he could not help feeling a little irked. He put up with it for some time, trying to think of a way to get away from her. It was much later that evening when the opportunity was provided by Fleur herself.
They had been sitting in the common room for some time, talking quietly, when Fleur sighed and sat up straight.
"Hermione has been in the library for a long time," she said. "It's getting close to curfew. I'm going to go and get her."
Stifling a sigh of relief, Harry instead smiled at the beautiful girl and leaned in for a short kiss. "That sounds like a good idea. I think while you're out I'll go for a walk."
Fleur gazed at him with some concern. "How about you come to the library with me? Then we can all go for a walk."
"I think I'd rather be alone," Harry said, trying to sound casual. "I just have some things to work out in my mind, you know. I'll see you later."
"Harry," Fleur said after gazing at him for a short moment, "you don't have to do everything on your own. Hermione and I love you. We want to help."
Smiling, Harry reached over and brushed his fingers over the silky softness of her cheek. "I know, Fleur. And I love you both for it. I just want to think about things on my own for a while. I'll talk to you later, or tomorrow morning, if it comes to that."
Fleur gave him a concerned look, colored slightly with perplexity, Harry thought, but she said nothing more. She simply leaned forward and pecked his lips before she stood and exited the common room.
For his part, Harry made certain he kept his actions casual. He waited for a few moments after Fleur left before he stretched and stood, making his way toward the dorm room stairs. There, he made his way quickly to the dorm and changed his clothes into some dark clothes which were snug, yet allowed him the greatest range of movement possible. He then took the map and, folding it, put it in his pocket, thinking that he did not want others to use it to discover that he was not at Hogwarts. Then, he took his wand and inserted it carefully in its holster, and then made his way back down the stairs.
When he reached the common room again, Harry noted that there were several people still in the common room, but that it was not as busy as it would be later in the evening when curfew arrived; most of the house was likely still taking advantage of the early hour to be in other locations in the castle. As it was becoming late, that circumstance would not persist much longer.
Taking care not to hurry, Harry made his way across the floor and let himself out through the portrait hole, greeting the fat lady as he exited. He then made his way down toward the castle entrance, arriving there within a few moments.
It was, perhaps, somewhat audacious of him to attempt to leave the castle through the front entrance where anyone could see him. The cloak was situated in his trunk in his dorm—he had considered using it to make certain that he was not seen, and had in the end, simply left it there. This early in the evening, with students still moving through the halls, his chances of being caught even while under the cloak were higher than they would be later at night. If he was caught under the cloak, questions would be asked. By simply strolling out through the entrance, if anyone saw him, he could simply state that he was out taking a walk around the grounds before curfew, and the fact that he had left the cloak in his dorm would further support that claim. Besides, he was known to use the cloak on occasion, and it was always a good thing to act in an unexpected manner.
Furthermore, Harry counted on the fact that most of the students would be in other locations this late in the day, and that his passage would not be noted, as there were no portraits in the Entrance Hall to report his exit. His instincts turned out to be correct, as the hall was empty as he quickly passed through it and out into the courtyard. From thence he made his way out onto the castle grounds, but instead of turning toward Hagrid's hut as he had done so many times during his time at Hogwarts, he instead turned away and hurried toward the ward boundaries, casting a low-powered notice-me-not charm on himself as he walked.
It was only a moment before he had gone sufficiently far that he was certain he had cleared the wards. He then glanced around and, seeing nothing of any note in the vicinity, he pulled out the essay parchment that Snape had given him. Reflecting that whatever else Snape was, that he had a good sense for the dramatic—"Revenge" was the perfect password for what was about to happen!—Harry took a deep breath to prepare himself for the coming ordeal, and opened his eyes.
"Revenge!" he said in a tone which carried his elation at the success of his endeavors.
As the by now familiar tug behind his navel grabbed hold of him, Harry simultaneously felt a hand grasp his arm. He tried to shake whoever it was off of him, but it was too late. The magical travel field enveloped him and he disappeared from the vicinity of Hogwarts into the vortex which would carry him to the meeting with another horcrux. With him, he carried an unintended passenger, the identity of whom he could not fathom.
For Hermione, things in the library were not going nearly as well as she would have liked. In fact, Hermione had to admit that progress on the question of how to remove a horcrux was essentially nonexistent. But she kept at it doggedly—Harry was depending on her to find an answer to his problem, and she determined that she would not let him down.
At this point, after more than two months of assisting Dumbledore in his quest to find an answer to the horcrux problem—though in truth only the in past week had she understood the truth about the foul devices—a lesser person might have given up. There simply seemed to be nothing to discover; the Society appeared to have been very thorough in removing all references from the world. Or at least in Hermione's corner of the world… Aside from the books which Dumbledore had given her, there had not even have been a mention of horcruxes, and even in those volumes there was precious little. But now knowing the true nature of the devices, she had turned her attention to esoteric texts on magical theories and the nature of the soul, hoping that here would be something in one of them which would spark some inspiration. Anything would be welcome, as she was well aware that even the hint of an idea could start the creative juices flowing, which could lead them to an answer, even if the initial thought was incorrect.
But there was nothing, and Hermione was becoming rather frustrated. And of course it did not help that she knew that no one before her had had any more success in figuring out an answer to the dilemma either. She knew that Dumbledore was busy looking for a solution too, but he had many other duties to attend to, and could only spare so much time to search. No, she needed to help him as much as possible, and there was no way she would allow herself to let Harry down. She would do whatever it took.
Ten minutes later, Hermione threw the book she had been searching through onto the table in a fit of pique, and rested her head in her hands. Nothing helped! There was nothing to be found. How she was to solve this riddle she could not imagine. For a few minutes, she allowed herself the luxury of a few tears, hoping the release of emotion would allow her to feel better.
"What's the matter Mudblood?" a voice startled her from her frustrations. "Feel like the walls are closing in on you?"
Looking up, Hermione saw the speaker, Theodore Nott, watching her with malevolence mixed with disgust and some quality Hermione could not define. Nott had stepped into the role which Malfoy used to play in Slytherin house, and though Hermione would say that he possessed the ability to annoy, he could not hold a candle to Malfoy himself. He was flanked on either side by Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode, something else, it seemed, which had not changed.
"Don't you have a rock that you need to go crawl back under?" Hermione asked dismissively. "There should be more room under it now that Malfoy and the bookends are gone."
"Draco is a Pureblood of longstanding," Pansy snarled as she stepped forward menacingly. "A jumped up Mudblood like you has no business even saying his name."
"I'll agree with you there," Hermione rejoined. "Even saying his name makes me want to go gargle bleach."
Pansy flushed and made to reach for her wand, only to be held back by Nott. "Draco's right," he said absently after shaking his head at Parkinson, "you do have a bit of a mouth on you."
Hermione laughed. "That's rich, considering he's always opening that gaping chasm on his face and spouting off things he can't possibly back up."
Nott glared back at her with contempt literally oozing off him. Though to be honest, Hermione reflected, Slytherins of Malfoy's ilk had a tendency to ooze regardless.
"It's because of you my father is dead, Mudblood."
For the first time since they had approached, Nott showed a bit of some Malfoy-esque anger, and Hermione felt a hint of apprehension. However, she gamely returned his disdainful glare, certain that if they were to do something as foolish as to draw wands in the library, that she could defeat them, even given the odds. "Your father's own actions are the reason he's dead. Read the papers, Nott—your father did some pretty disgusting things in the service of your Dork Lord."
"When the Dark Lord takes over, you'll be singing a different tune," Nott said. His tone was back to the conversational one he had started out with, rather than the threatening tone that Malfoy had always used. Privately, Hermione wondered if he was a few cards short. "I hope you'll enjoy your place. That is, of course, if the Dark Lord allows you to live at all."
"You're as delusional as your idiot friend," a new voice broke into the conversation.
Turning, Hermione noticed that Fleur had approached them while she had been paying attention to the Slytherins. It was not precisely relief that she felt, as she knew that even these Slytherins were not foolish enough to try something overt in the library, of all places. Still, the support of a dear friend was very welcome when facing Malfoy's thuggish and equally loathsome friends.
"Ah, the creature," Nott intoned with a smug smile. "I knew that with the Mudblood here that you couldn't be far—inferior beings like you seem to flock together, not to mention how you all emanate a particularly disgusting odor which I smelled as soon as I stepped in the room. I will admit, though, that you're at least a bit easier on the eyes than the Mudblood."
"And you have the look of an inbred twit," Fleur snapped. "We'd appreciate it if you would all get lost."
Once again, the two girls appeared as though they would prefer to escalate the confrontation further, but Nott merely smiled, and after motioning for his companions to stand down, he turned back to Fleur for one final parting shot.
"You won't always be together. Some day we'll get you while you're alone. We'll cut you off and you'll pay for what you've said and what you've done. I'd watch your backs, if I were you, though in the end it won't do you any good."
With a final pointed glare, he turned and escorted the two girls away and, presumably, out of the library.
Fleur watched as the three Slytherins departed, shaking her head at their brand of terminal stupidity. It seemed that Mr. Nott had stepped into Malfoy's shoes as the figurehead blowhard of the house of the snake, and in keeping with the symmetry of the situations, had attracted the two girls to be his bookends, much the same as Crabbe and Goyle had performed a similar function for the departed Malfoy. If children such as these were the best that British Pureblood society could offer, Fleur expected they would collapse before the next generation managed to produce an even less impressive future themselves.
Sighing, she turned to Hermione. "Looks like we've got a new antagonist in Slytherin house."
But despite her flippant comment, Hermione appeared distracted, as she sported a look of intense contemplation, coupled with a far off gaze. Fleur smiled fondly—Hermione had been affected as much as Fleur or Harry had been by the truth of the horcrux situation, and this return to her normal demeanor was welcome indeed.
"Hermione," she stated softly, trying to get the other girl's attention. "It's getting close to curfew. We need to get back to the common room."
Starting, Hermione glanced at Fleur before her eyes became unfocused, and a crease appeared between her eyebrows. "Just a moment. Something about what Nott said…"
Hermione was silent for several moments and Fleur watched her as she worried over whatever had been said, wondering what was going on. She knew better than to take anything the Slytherins said with anything other than a grain of salt, so Fleur was confused as to what was bothering her.
"Can I help—?" Fleur started only to be cut off.
Hermione's eyes widened and suddenly became focused as she started and peered at Fleur.
"I think I know how to help Harry," she blurted.
Then to Fleur's surprise and consternation, Hermione rose and almost ran from the room, uncharacteristically raising Madam Pince's ire with the haste with which she departed.
Bewildered, Fleur followed Hermione as she left the library, calling out to her—which Hermione did not heed in the slightest. Grimly Fleur followed her, wondering what she was about, and what her final comment had meant. The path she was taking led toward Gryffindor tower—Hermione did not know that Harry was not there at the moment. She would learn soon enough that he was not there, and then Fleur hoped she would get some answers.
The journey by portkey was relatively short, and at the end of it, Harry found himself dumped rather unceremoniously on a patch of ground surrounded by rolling hills and stunted trees. Unheeding of his surroundings, Harry immediately rolled to the side and had his wand out in an instant, trained upon the unwanted intruder who had tagged along uninvited.
As he got his bearings, he noted that the other person had also risen, and though they were not threatening and had not brandished their wand, Harry could feel the other watching him intently and even a trifle imperiously. It was that moment that Harry's eyes widened in recognition as the shock of red hair and light brown eyes registered on his consciousness.
"Ginny!" he exclaimed.
And then, of course, is when the surprise turned to anger.
"What the hell are you doing?" Harry snapped, gazing at her, eyes blazing with anger.
"I might ask the same thing of you," Ginny replied, her voice even and her eyes focused upon him.
Shaking his head and unwilling to say something unkind to the girl who was, after all, like a kid sister, Harry grasped the portkey in his hand and held the other hand out to Ginny imperiously. "Come on. I'll take you back to Hogwarts."
Ginny, however, had other ideas. She shook her head and backed away from him. "No, Harry. Not until you tell me what's going on."
"We don't have time," Harry snapped. "I need to get you back to Hogwarts and then get on with what I came here to do. Let's go."
"I told you," Ginny replied firmly, "I'm not going until I know what you're doing."
Exasperated, Harry threw his hands up in the air. "What does it matter what I'm doing? I'm doing what I'm meant to do, which is to get rid of Riddle. I can't have you as a distraction, Ginny. I need to do this alone."
Ginny's eyes widened and the lines around her mouth accompanied by her gaze boring into him bespoke her displeasure.
"Are you really thinking of just waltzing up and attacking Voldemort?" she asked incredulously."
Shaking his head, Harry replied in short, clipped tones, "Of course not! Give me a little bit of credit here—I think I'm a little more intelligent than that."
"Intelligent, perhaps," Ginny shot back, "but I see your time with Fleur has not cured you of your impetuosity. Now tell me what you're doing. I'm not leaving until you do."
Defiant, Harry stared back at his friend, cursing her stubbornness and unwillingness to listen to reason. Harry eyed her for a moment, thinking that it might be easier to simply grab her hand and portkey back to Hogwarts with her. Apparently she understood the direction his thoughts had taken, as she made a show of fingering her wand as she waited for him to speak with an air of exaggerated impatience.
But even though Harry knew that if required he could disarm her in a duel if he chose, he was not willing to raise his wand at a friend. Furthermore, now that Ginny had followed him and knew where the portkey had taken him, he knew that she could betray his plans to others, which would make his comings and goings impossible, if he was not able to accomplish his mission that night. It was either take her into his confidence and persuade her to agree that what he was doing was necessary, or obliviate her. And as he had not the slightest idea of how to go about obliviating someone, that was obviously not an option. Circumstances necessitated telling her what he hoped to accomplish and hoping that she would leave him to it.
Laughing mirthlessly, Harry motioned to where she was fingering her wand. "There's no need for that," he said, while holstering his own. "I'll tell you why I'm here, and then I'm taking you back to Hogwarts. I must be the one to do this, Ginny. You'll understand when I explain."
Though Ginny gave him a withering glare, she left her wand where it was situated and rather primly sat on a tree stump nearby. Though it was dark and the locale was rough, she appeared like a monarch, sitting on her throne, favoring a supplicant with her attention. The sight prompted a rise in Harry's pique, as he suspected that that was exactly what she had intended, no doubt to give the impression that she was in control of their ensuing tête-à-tête.
Harry refused to rise to the bait, however. Instead he began to pace distractedly, unsure as to how to go about informing her of his plans. After a few moments of useless pacing and hand-wringing, he turned and approached her.
"Ginny, you know about the horcruxes now," he began.
A mirthless smile met his initial declaration. "Being one myself, I've thought of little else. I suspect you're in the same boat."
Harry's acknowledging nod was terse and impatient. "Then you know that for Voldemort to be defeated that the horcruxes have to be gone."
"Oh, Harry," Ginny admonished, "I understand what you and Professor Lupin have explained about how horcruxes work. But it's not true to say that he can't be defeated if they are not gone first. He can be killed the same as anyone else."
"Do you want to take the chance that will figure it out?" Harry jibed in response. "If he does, either one of us could be displaced without any effort on his part. The only reason he hasn't done it yet is because he doesn't know."
"What makes you think he'll find out now?"
"I don't," Harry replied, frustrated. "I just don't want to take the chance."
"So is that what this is all about?" Ginny demanded. "Are you here on some misguided quest to kill Voldemort and die yourself? And what about me? Should I commit suicide so that your plan will work?"
Frustrated that she was not allowing him to explain himself, Harry approached her and put one knee down on the ground beside her. She gazed down at him and flushed slightly, and Harry allowed a slight smile to come over his face. In essence, she was still the same young girl who had had a crush on him since before she had ever met him, and Harry was not above using that for his own purposes. At least not in this situation.
"Ginny, I have nothing to say about your situation. You know what the risks and consequences are, and I'm sure you will have to work your own way through them.
"But you're forgetting something."
At her raised eyebrow, Harry spoke, one word explaining what he was doing here.
"Nagini."
Ginny's eyes widened, and she looked down at him with disbelief. "You're here to kill Nagini?"
Nodding slowly, Harry rose and sat beside her on the stump. "Yes. Nagini is also a horcrux, or so we think. I asked Snape about it, and he confirmed everything that we know about animal horcruxes. Nagini has to die, Ginny—even if you and I were to sacrifice ourselves to get rid of Voldemort, it wouldn't do anything if the snake still lives."
Ginny twisted herself around so that she could look Harry in the face. "In that case, I think you need my help."
Nothing could have prepared Harry for those words, and he stared back at her in shock. A lecture on how he was being reckless; a demand that he return to Hogwarts; a crying supplication that he not throw his life away; all of these things were within the realm of possibility. But to have her state calmly and without any emotion that he needed to accept her presence on his mission was so utterly unexpected that Harry was unable to respond for a few moments.
And that, of course, was when his anger returned.
"No!" he declared. "Absolutely not!"
"Why?" was Ginny's calm reply.
"She's a horcrux!" Harry rejoined. "If anyone kills her, the horcrux will just transfer to them, leaving with another problem. If I kill her then the soul piece disappears."
"It may have escaped your attention," Ginny drawled, though there was no missing the sarcasm in her voice, "but I'm a horcrux too! Wouldn't that make me another candidate to get rid of the snake?"
Harry was caught up short, and though he wanted to give her an angry retort, but the words would not come. Of course Harry was aware that Ginny could also safely kill the snake—or as safe as anyone could be when confronting a large, venomous, evil creature as personally loyal to Voldemort as Nagini undoubtedly was. It had simply never occurred to him before that Ginny was in the same position of being able to off the snake as he was, as he had simply focused on the need to do it himself.
"You don't know what you're getting yourself into," Harry snapped, trying a different tack.
"Didn't we already talk about that?" Ginny demanded, her voice alight with incredulity and indignation. "I told you that I understand about how a horcrux affects an animal host. The snake is likely to be very fast and dangerous. You're crazy if you try to take her on alone."
"I took on the basilisk alone," Harry snapped.
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh, so Fawkes wasn't there?"
"Of course he was! But I killed the snake! And I'm sure Nagini isn't even a fraction as dangerous as the basilisk was."
"Then you're a fool! If you attempt to find this snake while underestimating it, the snake will kill you!"
With an effort, Harry swallowed his pique. He did not want to argue with Ginny. But he could not allow her to share in the danger of this expedition. Truth be told, Harry was well aware of the threat Nagini posed, and he was in no way underestimating her.
"I'm not taking Nagini lightly," Harry finally said. "Ginny, I want you to go back. I will not be responsible for your parents' heartbreak."
A sudden flush of indignation came over Ginny's countenance and she glared at him with some disgust. "In your selfish thoughts about your own situation, you seem to have forgotten something," she bit out with barely suppressed fury. "I'm going to die anyway! So don't give me a sob story about how you don't want my family to suffer. They're already suffering!"
A sigh escaped Harry's lips as he regarded her with some compassion. The fact of the matter was that she was right, even though he had not consciously considered the matter before. But though he still did not agree with her assessment and felt that her family would undoubtedly suffer even more if she should be killed by Nagini in this Merlin-forsaken place, he could not deny her right to choose her own fate. He had chosen his, after all—could he claim that she could not as well?
"I think you're not considering everything," Harry replied gently. "I think you're parents would be devastated if I were allow something to happen to you here. But I can't say that you're wrong."
"You need my help," Ginny replied, a hint of steel in her voice.
"All right then," Harry replied, rising to his feet. "In that case, I suggest we get to it."
Updated 06/13/2014