Chapter 27
You Have Never Suffered
"Blasted woman!"
Evan Harrington hastily wrote a note to Michelle Goldsmith: Please meet me in fifteen minutes. Apparate to King's Cross. I will be under an invisibility cloak, and we will apparate to another location immediately. This is extremely important. Destroy this note. Evan Harrington.
Having avoided suspicion following the escape of Kingsley Shacklebolt, Evan breathed a sigh of relief until he met again with his partner, Veronica Singh. Much to his amazement and consternation, she had discovered the location of the Daily Prophet. Even as they spoke, their superiors were meeting, piecing together a force to assault the newspaper's temporary headquarters. Fortunately with their resources spread so thin, it would take a few hours at least before the plan could be finalized and the force could leave. Evan congratulated Veronica and excused himself for a few minutes.
Frantically he wrote the note to Michelle Goldsmith, whom he knew to be a member of the Order of the Phoenix and an employee of the Daily Prophet. He could not wait for an owl to travel all the way from London to the Prophet's hideout in Scotland, so he stuffed an owl in the pocket of his robe and quickly moved to the auror apparation area, trying his best not to draw attention to himself. He apparated to a spot a mere quarter mile from the Prophet's current location. Releasing the owl, he watched it flap away for a minute before swirling the invisibility cloak around himself and apparating to King's Cross.
Luckily for the auror, Michelle was hard at work when the mottled owl flew through the window of her workroom, alighting on her desk. She quickly read the note twice. Gasping for breath and doing her best to avoid a panic attack, she touched her wand to the parchment. She could not turn it into dust like more accomplished witches, but the flames which quickly engulfed it did the job just as well. She checked her watch.
Fifteen minutes later, she slipped out of her area to a secluded spot where she apparated to King's Cross. Her already pounding heart skipped a beat when from behind her she felt a hand on her shoulder. Within a few seconds, she disappeared again, reappearing in the same secluded spot where Evan released the owl. The back-to-back apparations caused her a pang of nausea, but it soon subsided. Evan removed the cloak and stepped to her side.
"I'm sorry to have call on you like this, Miss Goldsmith," he began politely, for the two had only briefly met at the Burrow a couple of days before. "It's extremely important, I'm afraid. The Ministry has discovered your location. The Prophet needs to move again. Immediately."
Michelle froze for a second, allowing the unexpected events of the past few minutes to sink in. She realized the importance of this moment, and nodded her understanding.
"How much time do we have, Mr. Harrington?"
"Two or three hours. Four at the most. Forget tomorrow's issue. Just get out of there."
"Thank you," Michelle whispered. The two looked at each other for a few moments, and each suddenly felt an attraction to the other, completely unexpected for both of them. Michelle would have liked the opportunity to chat with this handsome man, and Evan's mouth opened slightly as he truly observed the pretty young woman for the first time. Both rued the moment, knowing that events did not allow them to follow their desires.
"Go now," Evan urged her, "Perhaps some time we can meet again."
"I'd like that," Michelle assured him with a genuine smile. A moment later, she disappeared.
"Business before pleasure," Evan muttered, who immediately returned to the Ministry, hoping his absence had not been noted. I'm taking too many chances.
Michelle ran full speed into the office of the Editor in Chief, who at that moment sat with several editors, reviewing proposed stories and layouts for the next day's edition. Mr. Oglesby jumped from the shock of her entry.
"The Ministry has found us," she blurted out breathlessly, "We need to move right away."
"Calm down, Miss Goldsmith," Mr. Oglesby replied as evenly as he could, "What's happened." Michelle inhaled deeply and informed them of what she knew.
Within moments, several editors ran though the building, shouting, "WE'RE BUGGING OUT."
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Harry rushed back from Hagrid's cabin to the lakeshore where he had left the tub of gillyweed. Given the dire information from the centaur, he intended to enter the lake again, and to keep swimming until he found either Hufflepuff's cup or Lord Voldemort.
"There's no time to think," Harry responded testily to Hermione's pleas to slow down the process.
"Look," she argued urgently, "Let's at least think what this means. Why would Voldemort be brewing a potion? And why would he have a hostage?"
"We've already figured that he wants to protect his horcruxes. He needs to get to the lake. I don't know what it all means, but somehow he's getting to the lake. He may already be there. I might be too late!" Finally they reached the gillyweed, and Harry quickly pulled off his black t-shirt, casting it haphazardly to the side.
They knew that Harry made sense, but Hermione did not want to let Harry go. Only minutes before, after her conversation with Ron, she finally came to terms with her feelings for Harry, the fact that she cared for him more than just as a friend. She loved him. But in a moment, he would dive into the frigid waters of the lake, possibly to confront Lord Voldemort. Possibly never to come back again. She could hardly bear the thought of him dying before she ever had a chance to tell him, but now she could not. The importance of his mission far outweighed her personal feelings.
Consumed with the task awaiting him, Harry failed to notice Hermione's nerves. He stuffed as much gillyweed into his pouch as he could fit, figuring he had at least three extra servings.
"One of you needs to go back to the dormitory," he instructed his friends, "and get the mirror. Tap it three times, left, right and center, and then wait for Harrington. It may take him a few minutes to find an opportunity to contact you. Tell him what's happened." He grabbed another handful of gillyweed. "And one of you needs to contact McGonagall. If Voldemort is out there, she needs to know. Maybe she can check on the wards or call on the Order for help. But not the Ministry! Make sure she doesn't contact the Ministry."
Ron and Hermione did not answer for a few seconds. This all was happening too quickly, and they did not know what to say or do.
"I'll come with you," Ron announced, "You need someone to help."
"NO!" Harry immediately ordered, "I mean, I can't have you with me. You'll distract me, and I can't have that. I need to concentrate on finding the horcrux; I can't be worrying about you two. But I don't feel the same about Harrington as I do about you. I won't worry about him. Besides, I need you to do what I asked."
"Harry," Hermione whispered, her voice choking for a few seconds, "Be careful."
Harry looked into her eyes again, and as before, they captivated him.
"I will," he assured her, emotion in his voice as well. Hermione stepped forward to embrace him, and the two wrapped their arms around each other more tightly than ever before. They lingered for several seconds before Harry gradually and reluctantly loosened his hold, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I'll be back. I promise." Hermione managed a sad smile.
"Find it fast, mate, and bring it back here," Ron advised, stepping forward to place a hand on Harry's back, "Remember, we still have to take care of Nagini, so try not to deal with You Know Who if you don't have to." Harry nodded and looked back at his two best friends kindly.
"Try not to worry," he said confidently, even though he knew they would, "and go do what I asked right away. It's important." Ron and Hermione nodded while Harry turned away to step into the cold water again, a handful of gillyweed in his mouth. His friends delayed a few seconds until they saw Harry shiver and suddenly dive into the lake. They looked at each other silently for a few more seconds.
"I'll go to McGonagall," Hermione decided quietly, "You contact Harrington." Ron nodded, and the two ran back to the castle.
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The shadows extended further from the majestic trees of the Forbidden Forest, obscuring the sunlight which flickered over the potion cooking in Lord Voldemort's cauldron. The dark lord no longer taunted Narcissa Malfoy, who remained bound and gagged, lying uncomfortably on the sparsely vegetated soil. No matter which way she adjusted herself, a pebble or twig dug into her.
Voldemort just stirred that brew again, and walked a short distance towards the lake, coming to within a few feet of the point in which Hogwarts' wards began. Despite his bravado to Narcissa, worry filled him from head to toe. Potter obtained a large quantity of gillyweed, and there could be only one purpose. He would be looking for the horcrux that Voldemort secreted so many decades earlier. Could the boy have already located it? Did he know of the trophy?
Peter Pettigrew at times sat, at times paced, but never strayed far from his master. He refused to observe the pathetic figure of Narcissa Malfoy, whom he knew would soon be breathing her last. How her murder would serve to breach the wards befuddled him, but not for a second did he doubt that it would. The few times he allowed his eyes to stray, he could see Narcissa's pleading eyes. Kill me before he does, they told him.
He would not! Why should he trade her life for his? She made her choice years ago to join forces with the dark lord, and now she must pay the price, as they all would eventually.
Narcissa long before stopped struggling hopelessly against her bindings and knew that Peter would not help her. She would not have helped him, had their roles been reversed, so she could hardly blame him. Now that she would die a pathetic death, she could only find one consolation. Draco still lived! Perhaps he would meet her fate in the end, but at least he still had a chance. If only she could end her own life now, before the dark lord took it from her. Again her eyes surveyed the ground, seeking any opportunity.
Rolling from her left side to her right, she noticed a jagged branch on the ground, partially embedded in the soil, pointed out at nearly a forty-five degree angle. It had to be some four or five yards away, but she immediately tried to determine how she could move herself there. Even if she could squirm over unnoticed, the chances of lifting herself into the perfect position to impale herself on the three-foot branch were minuscule. Nevertheless, no other options presented themselves.
Arching her neck, Narcissa could just see Voldemort's back, but she could not see Pettigrew. Inhaling deeply, she decided that she would have to run the risk, hoping that Peter would not stop her. As quietly as she could, she rolled over three times, then stopping to gauge her distance. Two more rolls should be enough, but she also needed to scoot down a few feet in order to line up her abdomen with the ragged tip of the branch. At close range, the branch appeared strong and solid, and she thought that just maybe she could succeed.
Peter observed her all the while, and within a few seconds understood her intention. Why do I get stuck in these situations? he asked himself angrily. He wanted to do nothing, but if Narcissa somehow managed to succeed, or even come close to success, Voldemort would hold him responsible. Having suffered the dark lord's powerful Cruciatus curse numerous times, Peter did not wish to experience it again. Moreover, if his master lost his intended murder victim, then Peter may have to be pressed into service as the only available alternate. He watched Narcissa roll over twice, bringing her to within inches of her suicide branch.
"Master," Peter called out, "She is moving." He turned away from both Narcissa and Voldemort, once again hating himself with every ounce of his being.
Hearing Peter's voice, Narcissa desperately lurched a foot down and began to roll to her right, attempting to lift herself onto the point of the jagged branch.
"CRUCIO," boomed the voice of Lord Voldemort, his wand pointed violently in front of him.
Narcissa's body writhed in pain, and she could no longer control her movements. Voldemort's full fury transferred through the curse, which he held for an inordinately long time, stopping only because he needed to keep her alive for a short time longer. The gag fell out of her mouth as her body jerked about, and her screams echoed throughout much of the Forbidden Forest. Many denizens of the woods heard her. Word of the dark lord's presence had spread, and no creature dared remain within half a mile of him.
Voldemort approached his victim, sneering at her intended treason. Roughly turning her over with his foot, he pointed his wand at her to a silent petrificus totalus.
"You are pitiful," Voldemort snarled in his serpentine voice, "You and your entire family. Do not believe that your pathetic son will survive. I will personally assure his capture and oversee his torture. You are unworthy to be called death eaters." He glanced at Peter, ordering, "Tie her to the tree, Wormtail. We only have an hour to wait."
Despite the fact that Narcissa had already been petrified and could not move a muscle, Peter did as instructed, levitating the witch next to the large trunk of a tree, then shooting ropes out of his wand to bind her to it. He then replaced the gag in her mouth and released the spell. Voldemort returned to attend to the potion, but Peter could feel his master's anger hanging in the air. After finishing his task, Peter accidentally looked into her eyes, which stared at him with poisonous venom. This time Peter stared back, sneering at her for her pointless suicide attempt which could have resulted in his death. He no longer felt any pity for her.
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"Think! Think! Think!" Evan Harrington urgently whispered to himself in the dark closet where he briefly spoke with Ron on the two-way mirror. He needed to leave for Hogwarts immediately, but within a couple of hours, he would be expected to participate in the invasion of the Daily Prophet's hideout. Obviously he could not do both. If he simply did not appear for the Ministry operation, eyebrows would be raised and questions would be asked. Already he sensed that Singh had begun to question his dedication, if not his motives.
He did not want to blow his cover so soon, but on the other hand, it seemed that events were dictating that result. Harry needed his help. Soon the young wizard may be facing off with Lord Voldemort himself, and Evan would not allow him to do so alone. Pursing his lips, he made his decision.
"Sir, I'm afraid I cannot participate in the raid," Evan informed his superior two minutes later, having run to his office, "I just received a message from Harry Potter. He wants to meet with me. Now." Evan perfectly feigned an air of astonishment. "I think I need to go, sir. This opportunity may not present itself again. I'm sure you can handle the Prophet operation without me."
Evan's superior raised his eyebrows at the unexpected news, but life as an auror meant routinely changing on the run. The Minister certainly would want to know why Potter summoned an auror.
"OK, go see Potter. Give me a report. We'll take care of the Prophet."
"Thank you, sir," Evan muttered, turning to rush out of the office to the auror apparation area.
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Harry never knew that he could swim so fast, and for several minutes, the adrenaline in his veins caused him to dart about the lake aimlessly. Soon he realized that he had no idea where he was.
"Slow down," he told himself, "Let yourself feel it." He brought himself to a near stop, allowing himself to sink slowly to the lake bottom, hovering just a few feet above. No vegetation covered this section of the lake, only coarse sand, rocks and the occasional boulder. Since no grindylows would populate such a barren area, Harry sunk down even lower. "Let yourself feel it," he repeated.
But he felt nothing. Searching about in a full circle, he realized that this part of the lake bottom did not conform to the image of the horcrux's location that he had in his mind. With a kick of his feet, he began to swim a little faster, but well under control.
Despite his efforts to concentrate on locating Hufflepuff's cup, as the minutes passed, he found his mind wandering. Hermione's eyes would suddenly appear before him, only to be pushed away in an attempt to remain focused. But something about those eyes had changed. They reminded him of something or someone, but he could not put a finger on it. Up ahead, he saw green grass reaching up several yards from the bottom of the lake, waving ever so slightly in the still waters. Several fish could be seen darting in and out, eating tiny particles floating about. Harry turned away, knowing that the horcrux had not been hidden in a grassy area. To his right, he saw the beginning of a small canyon, so he redirected himself in that direction.
He had seen Hermione's eyes many times, thousands of times. In fact, he told her more than once that he thought she had nice eyes, usually in response to her compliments about his green eyes. But the way she looked at him earlier . . .
Concentrate! he ordered himself, forcing his eyes to examine every nook and cranny of the ragged wall of the canyon, which dove down perhaps one hundred feet from the grassy area. Still, he felt and saw nothing other than the occasional fish. He swam on.
Maybe she was just worried about me, he mused, but of course in their six years of friendship, Hermione often had reason to worry about him. Harry remembered her eyes from those adventures - before passing into the final room with the Philosopher's Stone; before mounting the hippogriff to save Sirius; before facing the dragon during the Tri-Wizard Tournament; before leaving for the Ministry. No, her eyes today differed.
The horcrux! Think about the horcrux!
Feeling nothing, Harry swam out of the canyon.
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Lord Voldemort gently lifted a few locks of Narcissa Malfoy's thin blond hair. With a quick swipe of his wand, he severed an inch of her hair.
"Soon your suffering will end, Narcissa. Soon you will be reunited with your dear husband." Voldemort's words dripped with sarcasm, for he knew all too well that Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy never loved each other, marrying only for reasons of status and purity of blood. After a few years, they detested each other and largely lived separate lives. Throughout her ordeal, Narcissa never once thought about a reunification with Lucius in the hereafter.
Voldemort examined the lock of hair for a moment before turning one last time towards his victim.
"I know that you will miss your son, Narcissa. I am not unsympathetic. Soon, I will assure that he also can be a part of your joyous reunion." He managed a sneering sort of smile, before turning to step back to the cauldron. After sprinkling Narcissa's hairs evenly over the top of the bubbling, deep-red potion, he stirred it one last time, causing it briefly to foam. Finally the time had arrived. Dipping a long vial into the mixture, he filled it to the rim.
"Wormtail, untie our guest's feet and help her to stand." Uncoordinated even at his best, Peter awkwardly approached Narcissa, steeling himself for what he imagined would soon occur. With a slash of his wand, the ropes around her ankles fell off, and he slid his silver hand under her shoulder to help her stand. But Narcissa refused to cooperate, forcing Peter to exert himself fully to lift her to her feet. When he eased his grasp, she attempt to collapse to the ground again, but Peter quickly grabbed her again, angrily pulling her forward.
An ugly smile creased Voldemort's lips as he thoroughly enjoyed Narcissa's show of defiance. Once Peter brought her fully under control, the dark lord stepped forward, coming to within a foot of her face. In the past, the witch would have averted her eyes subserviently, but now that the end of her life approached, she stared angrily into Voldemort's red slits.
"You believe yourself a fighter, dear Narcissa," he sneered sarcastically, "but you have never fought for anything in your life. Everything has been handed to you. You have never suffered, you have never had to prove yourself." The sneer left his face, and an expression of pure hatred replaced it. "I have proven myself, dear Narcissa. I have suffered! While you sat in your mansion with your house elves, I suffered. Today, you have learned what it feels like to suffer." He stared into her eyes with an intensity that the pure-blood witch had never experienced, yet she forced herself not to look away.
"Take her to the edge of the wards, Wormtail." Peter slid his right arm under her left shoulder and dragged her across the forest floor to the spot where Voldemort stood a few minutes earlier, just a yard from where Hogwarts' wards took effect. Suddenly Narcissa froze in place, and when Peter looked back, he saw his master lowering his wand, having just petrified the witch so that she could not fall. "Come, Wormtail. Pour this down her throat." He handed his manservant the vial.
Both wizards approached her, for they knew this would be a two-man job. Voldemort released the spell a moment before grasping both of her arms in his cold, bony fingers, the feel of which caused Narcissa to shiver. Peter removed the gag and held the vial to her mouth, which she closed tightly.
"Open," Peter growled, but Narcissa determinedly refused, turning her head back and forth. Finally, Peter yanked hard on her tangled blond hair, pulling her head back so far that her eyes looked straight into the sky. Her mouth opened involuntarily, and Peter quickly poured the entire vile down her throat, causing her to cough violently. Finally her resolve broke, and after controlling her coughing, she bent forward, placing her hands on her knees. Tears dripped from her eyes directly to the dirt below.
"You will fail," she uttered through her tears, "I have wasted my life following you, Tom Riddle, but now I know you will fail." Peter again grabbed her hair, pulling upward to force her to stand and to stop insulting his master.
From behind her, Voldemort leaned forward, whispering in her ear, "Lord Voldemort does not fail. Rest assured that I will torture Draco for your impertinence."
"Harry Potter will kill you!" she sneered, "Draco will . . ."
Narcissa never spoke another word, for Voldemort placed a silencing charm on her.
"Brave words, dear Narcissa, but you know better. Now say goodbye to this world. Come here, Wormtail." Peter moved the three steps to stand next to his master, immediately behind their victim.
"Our timing must be precise, Wormtail. I will push her into the ward while reciting the incantation. You must kill her with the killing curse as soon as I start. The power of the murder will enhance the power of the potion and incantation. Do you understand?"
Peter stood mutely with his mouth agape. Despite his years of service to the dark lord, he managed never to kill anyone directly, other than Cedric Diggory in the graveyard. But that was a special circumstance, and to Peter's mind, it did not court as murder. Yes, he had tortured when obligated, he had indirectly participated in murderous activities, he had betrayed James and Lily Potter, leading to their murders, even caused the death of more than a dozen muggles when escaping from Sirius Black, but since his master's rebirth, never had he directly taken another human being's life. Though he would never admit it, he took pride in that fact, counting it as the last vestige of humanity remaining in him. Now the dark lord would take even that from him. Yet resistance would be futile; he had no choice.
"I understand, Master," he finally whispered. Breathing deeply, he called up all the hatred in his soul and pointed his wand at Narcissa.
Lord Voldemort allowed Peter a few seconds to prepare and then lifted his own wand towards the witch. Closing his eyes, he directed all of his energy into the core of his body, understanding that this incantation required total concentration. This was magic that only few wizards could perform. Opening his eyes again, his red pupils shone especially brightly. He began chanting words that Peter could not understand in a language that sounded like a combination of Arabic and Latin.
At the first word, Peter shouted with all of his might, "AVADA KEDAVRA."
A red bolt from the wand of Lord Voldemort connected with Narcissa Malfoy just a second before the green bolt of the killing curse made contact. The combination of the two curses caused her to arch her back in pain, her arms flailing upward. She remained in that position until Voldemort finished the incantation. As if kicked in the back by a hippogriff, Narcissa lurched forward into the edge of the wards.
The combination of the potion and incantation, enhanced by the power of murder, forced her body into the invisible wall. Red flames erupted around her body, as Voldemort held the red bolt steady against her. Already dead, Narcissa felt no pain, but her corpse continued to bore into the wards until finally a snap as loud as a sonic boom could be heard throughout the forest. The witch's lifeless body fell forward onto her face.
Within the waters of the lake, Harry suddenly rolled over uncontrollably several times, arms flailing, as if falling off a broom from a high altitude. After a few seconds, he regained control and brought himself to a stop. For the first time in months, he felt a sensation in his scar, and he knew without doubt that Voldemort had just breached Hogwarts' wards.
While floating motionlessly, he concentrated on the sensation of his scar. Unlike past occurrences, he felt no pain, only a feeling of warmth. No pain at all.
In fact, it felt good.