Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine, I only own a few characters and bits of the plot. There are also direct quotations taken out of the book which I might have shortened but essentially they mean the same thing.
Thanks for putting up with my late updates, school's just started so I've been a bit busy, and thanks for all the reviews! I really appreciate them.
Chapter 11 – Malfoy Manor
Each of the Snatchers attacked the shield simultaneously, it flickered and wasted away.
The man named Scabior picked up the goblin, Griphook winced, "Camping with a goblin, eh? Might throw him in as well, you never know, might be worth somethin', whaddya say, Greyback?"
"Yeah, what the heck, but I'm telling ya, goblins aren't my favourite food," he chuckled.
Dean recoiled in disgust, 'Does this guy eat goblins?'
"I have to say, Scabior, been a while since I've found a young one, this one might be a bit too old though," said Greyback squinting at Dean.
"Incarcerous!" said Scabior, and thick ropes appeared in thin air, binding the goblin tightly, after that, the man dropped Griphook onto the floor.
"Let him go!" cried Dean, "He's a goblin, and you don't have any use for him!"
"I'll be the judge of that, thanks," said Greyback, sending a blow to Dean's stomach.
Dean fell back, his stomach threatening to throw up the berries he just ate, as he recoiled in pain.
"Alright," said Scabior, walking over to Dean. He wrenched the wand out of Dean's hand, and picked up the satchel from the ground, handing both to another figure behind him, "check them out, see if there's anything worth lookin' at." The man obliged.
"So, what's your name, lanky?" growled Greyback, holding a tuft of Dean's hair.
"Lee Jordan," said Dean.
"And what's your blood status?"
"Half-blood."
"Check that Scabior."
"Wait," said the Snatcher behind them, "It's got 'Dean Thomas' written on his bag."
Remind me never to label my belongings again.
"Dean Thomas, eh?" said Scabior, looking down a list, "You're one of the muggle-borns the ministry's looking for!"
No way! Like I didn't know that.
"Ha ha," said Greyback, clapping his hands together, "this is turning out to be a pretty good catch!"
"There's nothing much interesting in the bag," continued the man, "'Cept for this Sneakoscope," he said, as he pulled out the blaring thing and blasted it with his wand so that the noise stopped, "and whoa! What an ugly hat."
"Get your filthy hands off my stuff!" yelled Dean.
He was greeted by a punch in the face.
"Next time think before you say, stupid mudblood," snarled Greyback.
"Dump the bag with the boy and we'll tie them up," ordered Scabior.
Dean's face hurt, but he was glad that they at least did not discover the key, which had been in Dean's jean pocket ever since he left the Hog's Head.
They dumped Dean beside Griphook, as well as Dean's bag which was then tied tightly squashed against his chest. The goblin and Dean were then bound together so that Dean was in a sitting position, and Griphook was forced to stand, his balance ensured by the ropes.
As Dean looked up to his captors he saw a wide, devilish grin spread on Scabior's face.
"Did you hear that?" he asked.
"We're on a roll tonight," said Greyback, rubbing his hands.
-
A moment later they had apparated outside a tent, with no lights on in the inside.
"Come out of there with your hands up! We know you're in there! You've got half a dozen wands pointing at you and we don't care who we curse!" cried Greyback into the darkness, as the Snatchers entered the tent.
Three bodies were dragged from the tent, one whose face had been horribly stung, and the other two, Dean could only see their legs because he was facing the wrong way and was already straining to see.
Men were directed to search the tent and there was the unmistakable sound of chairs upturning and other furniture being pushed out of the way.
"Now, let's see who we've got," said Greyback, "I'll be needing Butterbeer to wash this one down. What happened to you, ugly?" Dean although could not turn his head right around knew that Greyback was referring to the swollen-faced boy.
"Stung," the boy muttered, "Been stung."
The voice was slightly muffled but Dean had a feeling he had heard it somewhere before.
"Yeah, looks like it," said another voice.
"What's your name," snarled Greyback.
"Dudley."
"And your first name?"
"I -Vernon. Vernon Dudley."
Greyback then began questioning the other two, while Griphook gave a quiet murmur of pain and Dean tried to loosen the ropes around them a bit by moving and twisting.
There was quite a bit of movement as the three were dragged into sitting positions and tied to Dean and Griphook.
"Anyone still got a wand?"
"No," said the voices of Ron and Hermione, on either side of Dean, startling him.
'Don't be stupid, I suppose a lot of people sound similar,' thought Dean.
"This is all my fault. I said the name, I'm sorry –"
"Harry?"
"Dean?"
"It is you!" cried Dean in a whisper, heart sinking, "If they find out who they've got -! They're Snatchers, they're only looking for truants to sell for gold –"
"There's no Vernon Dudley on 'ere, Greyback." As soon as Scabior's message was delivered, an oppressive silence settled on the rope-bounded group. Dean could sense that Ron had stopped breathing and he could practically hear Hermione's heart leaping out on his right.
"Interesting," said Greyback, "that's interesting."
He crouched down beside Harry and when he next spoke, his breath, with the scent of blood in it, made everyone flinch in disgust.
"So you aren't wanted the, Vernon? Or are you on that list under a different name? What house were you in at Hogwarts?"
"Slytherin," same the automatic reply.
'I hope you'll be able to pull this off, Harry,' thought Dean.
"Funny 'ow they all thinks we wants to 'ear that. But none of 'em can tell us where the common room is," jeered Scabior.
"It's in the dungeons. You enter through the wall. It's full of skulls and stuff and it's under the lake, so the light's all green."
There was a short pause.
"Well, well, looks like we really 'ave caught a little Slytherin," said Scabior. Ron, Hermione and Dean simultaneously breathed sighs of relief.
Harry began spinning more lies as the Snatchers asked more questions, it seemed they could possibly still get out of this by sheer luck, but then it all came tumbling down, as good things do.
"'Ang on a minute, Greyback! Look at this, in the Prophet!" exclaimed Scabior, "'Ermione Granger, the Mudblood who is known to be traveling with 'Arry Potter."
They could hear Greyback's boots crunch the earth beneath him as he moved and crouched down beside Hermione. "You know what, little girly? This picture looks a hell of a lot like you."
"It isn't! It isn't me!" she squeaked.
And Dean knew they were done for.
It took seconds to deduce that the swollen boy was in fact Harry, his scar just visible on his deformed face. Glasses were found in the tent.
"…they say he's using the Malfoy's place as a base. We'll take the boy there."
-
Dean was tired, his face and stomach were bruised coupled with Ted's, Dirk's and Gornuk's deaths and the possibility that they were also about to die, made for an extremely bad night, which was a complete understatement. As the prisoners were dragged up the driveway of the Malfoy Manor and as the gravel rubbed and tore Dean's pants, he wondered, with miserable curiosity, what his family was doing and if he'd ever see them again.
"As far as I'm concerned we're dead," came Aberforth's useful comment, somewhere within the depths of Dean's memory.
Light suddenly spilled over them and it took a while for Dean's eyes to adjust. They were in a wide drawing room. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, dazzling the prisoners below and the dark purple walls were festooned with golden-framed portraits. Two figures rose from plush armchairs in front of an elaborate marble fireplace, as the prisoners and Snatchers spilled into the room.
"What is this?" said the voice of the man whom Dean assumed to be Draco's father.
"They say they've got Potter," replied a cool, woman's voice, Draco's mother perhaps?
"Draco, come here."
Her son obeyed and was forced to inspect Harry.
"Well?" demanded Greyback and Draco's father, "Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"
'The man sounds ecstatic,' thought Dean.
Another person had entered the room. She was tall, thin-lipped, had long, dull black hair and her face seemed robbed of all flesh, leaving only a skull and skin stretched tautly across it. When she spoke her voice was harsh, high-pitched, and to Dean she sounded like a mad-woman.
"Potter?" she shrieked, almost breaking the glass, "Are you sure? Well, then, the Dark Lord must be informed at once!"
It was all revealed very soon, Dean saw the Dark Mark burned into the woman's flesh as she dragged back her left sleeve and prepared to summon her master. The Malfoys were Death Eaters. As a muggle, he'd never given much thought to his peers' parentage or family, especially in the wizard sense. As it turned out, this naïveté wasn't doing him any favours right now.
"I was about to call him!" cried Draco's dad, possibly prolonging their deaths. "I shall summon him, Bella, Potter has been brought to my house, and it is therefore upon my authority –"
"Your authority!" sneered Bella, "You lost your authority when you lost your wand, Lucius! How dare you! Take your hands off me!"
The conflict was momentarily stopped when the woman called Bella saw the glint of Gryffindor's sword, which the Snatchers had brought along. The mood in the room seemed to have shifted, the jubilee in Bella's voice when she next spoke was replaced with anger and fear.
"STOP!" she screamed, "Do not touch it, we shall all perish if the Dark Lord comes now!"
Several of the Snatchers were stunned as Bella tried to grab the sword off them.
"Where did you get this sword?" she whispered, gripping the sword and bearing down on Greyback, who had been forced in a kneeling position.
"How dare you?" Greyback snarled, "Release me, woman!"
"Where did you find this sword," she demanded in an even higher voice, "Snape sent it to my vault in Gringotts!"
Everything then slipped into place, "So Harry had the real sword all along, while Snape had sent the fake one to this woman's vault at Gringotts," thought Dean.
Greyback was released and the unconscious Snatchers were disposed of, Dean heard a quiet whimper from Griphook, whose eyelids fluttered. The goblin was obviously in a lot of pain.
"The prisoners must be placed in the cellar, while I think what to do!"
Draco's mother, initially against this woman giving orders, hesitated for a moment, then addressed Greyback, "Take these prisoners down to the cellar."
"Wait," interrupted Bella, "All except…except for the Mudblood."
Ron exploded with a string of self-sacrificial comments to spare Hermione, while Bella cut the ropes off Hermione and dragged her by the hair to the middle of the room.
The rest of them were then moved into a dark passageway and down a steep flight of stairs, pushed by an invisible but strong force emitted from Greyback's wand. The heavy door at the bottom of the steps was unlocked and they were thrust in a musty room, the door slammed shut and they were enveloped in complete darkness.
There was a terrible scream above them.
"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!" bellowed Ron as he struggled against the ropes so that Dean and Harry staggered and the coarse ropes rubbed against the goblin's bruised body.
"Be quiet!" Harry said, "Shut up, Ron, we need to work out a way –"
"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"
"We need a plan, stop yelling – we need to get these ropes off –"
"Harry?" came a whisper in the darkness, "Ron is that you?"
Dean's heavy eyelids were beginning to droop, his whole body ached from the punches and his bad sleep the night before and the room was getting stuffy, it was hard to breathe. But the voice sounded vaguely familiar…
Someone shuffled closer to them and Dean saw the outline of a shadow.
"Harry? Ron?"
"Luna?"
"Yes, it's me! Oh no, I didn't want you to be caught!"
"Luna, can you help us get these ropes off?" asked Harry.
"Oh, yes, I expect so…there's an old nail we use if we need to break anything…just a moment…"
There was another scream from overhead.
"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"
"Mr Ollivander?" said Luna, her voice calm and serene even in the worst of situations, "Mr Ollivander, have you got the nail? If you just move over a little bit…I think it was beside the water jug…"
Dean felt the ropes move as Luna tried to cut the fibres and loosen the knots.
This could take a while.
"You'll need to stay still."
"Where did you get this sword?" screeched Bella above, "Where?"
There were some inaudible words, and Hermione screamed again.
"Ron, please stay still! I can't see what I'm doing –"
"My pocket!" said Ron, "In my pocket, there's a Deluminator, and it's full of light!"
Dean was about to drift into unconsciousness when the cellar was suddenly ablaze with luminescent spheres which hung in the air like tiny suns. He was able to see the white face of Luna and the figure of Ollivander the wandmaker, curled up in the corner.
"Oh that's much easier, thanks Ron," said Luna, and she continued striking the ropes with her nail, "Hello, Dean!"
Dean's reply was barely audible underneath the shrieks of Bella's and Hermione's screams.
"HERMIONE!"
'If I ever get out of this alive, I promise I will do justice to everyone who has died because of this,' thought Dean.
"There!"
The ropes dropped away and Dean caught Griphook's falling body just in time to soften his fall.
"Thanks," Dean said to Luna in a shaky voice as Griphook sank to the floor, disorientated and exhausted.
"There's no way out, Ron," said Luna as Ron tried to dissapparate, "The cellar is completely escape-proof. I tried, at first. Mr Ollivander has been here for a long time, he's tried everything."
For a while Hermione's screams echoed throughout the whole house, Ron was half sobbing and banging the walls with his fist, and through a shard of mirror, whose sudden sparkling blueness caught Dean's attention, Dean was sure he had seen an eye which belonged to Aberforth.
"Help us!" Harry yelled in mad desperation to the eyes, "We're in the cellar of Malfoy Manor, help us!"
The eye was gone. Dean conjured a fleeting image of Aberforth starring at the mirror on his mantelpiece, somehow, he felt the two were connected.
"How did you get into my vault?" yelled Bella, the rest of her words obscured by Ron's sobs.
"…it isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!" came Hermione's weeping voice.
"A copy? Oh, a likely story," screeched Bella.
"…fetch the goblin," came Lucius Malfoy's voice, "he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!"
"Griphook," Harry whispered to the goblin curled up on the floor, "you must tell them that sword's a fake, they mustn't know it's the real one, Griphook, please –"
Footsteps scuttled down the cellar stairs, Ron clicked the Deluminator and they were once again shrouded in darkness. The lock clicked and the door flew open, Draco marched inside, wand held high and seized the goblin by the arm, dragging it behind him. The door slammed shut, simultaneously a loud crack echoed in the cellar. Someone had just apparated.
Ron clicked the Deluminator.
A house elf stood in their midst, trembling, his large tennis-ball shaped eyes focused on Harry. Above them Hermione's screams continued as Bella relentlessly interrogated her.
"…Dobby, I want you to grab Luna, Dean and Mr Ollivander, and take them – take them to –"
"Bill and Fleur's," said Ron, "Shell Cottage, on the outskirts of Tinworth!"
The elf nodded.
"And then come back. Can you do that Dobby?" Harry asked.
"Of course, Harry Potter," whispered Dobby. He hurried to Mr Ollivander's side, took one his hands in his own and offered his other to Luna and Dean. Neither of the two moved.
"Harry, we want to help you!" Luna whispered.
"We can't leave you here," said Dean.
"Go, both of you! We'll see you at Bill and Fleur's."
When they both remained still, Harry, clearly exasperated said, "Go! Go! We'll follow, just go!"
Hesitantly, they held on to Dobby's hand and with a crack, the group of four were gone.
-
Dean found himself sprawled against the hard earth, he could smell the salty air and wondered if this was Shell Cottage. They were on a cliff which overlooked the sea, a whitewashed cottage stood nearby, its walls embedded with shells.
"Thanks," said Dean, before Dobby disapparated.
Luna was supporting Mr Ollivander in a sitting position. As Dean moved to help, two figures ran towards them from the cottage with their wands raised.
"Mr Ollivander?" said the man, clearly bewildered, and Dean saw that he had the same fiery red hair as the Weasleys.
"Oh, Mr Weasley, I'm Luna Lovegood, I was at your wedding," said Luna, "This is Dean and this is Mr Ollivander, we've just been saved by Dobby from the Malfoy Manor. Mr Ollivander is very unwell, do you mind if we could settle him down first?"
'Smooth,' thought Dean.
"Bill, vee vill 'ave to carry him een," came Fleur Delacour's slurred English, whom Dean recognized from the Triwizard Tournament.
Bill bent down and placed his hands gingerly underneath the man, lifting him up gently, then swiftly, he carried him towards the house.
"Ar' you two alright?" asked Fleur.
"Yes," said Luna, helping Dean up, "We are fine, Dean has a few bruises though."
As the three walked towards the cottage, another crack filled the air.
"It must be Harry!" said Luna.
The group had apparated further away from the cottage than Dean, Luna and Mr Ollivander had. As Luna and Dean ran towards Harry, they saw Ron running towards the cottage, Hermione in his arms. There was cry from where Dobby was standing, they could hear the strained voice of Harry.
"DOBBY! Dobby – no – HELP! HELP!"
From far away they could see Harry laying the elf down. When they reached him, the elf was dead, its motionless, glassy eyes, reflecting the stars of the night sky, the hilt of a silver knife protruding from his chest.
Sorry that this chapter was mainly based around the book, I thought I'd have to write it so that the story flows a bit more smoothly.