Chapter 30

Now the Hard Part Begins

Hermione Granger stomped across the floor of her bedroom, extremely displeased. Harry Potter had just detailed a plan which did not come close to meeting her standards, especially such details as, "Once I get there, I'll figure out what to do," or, "Hopefully we won't run into anybody." The plan essentially involved Harry possessing Issamir, entering McNaughton Castle by way of the serpent's instincts, and then winging it.

The girls had been conversing in their bedroom when Ron and Harry arrived a couple hours after dinner, and they decided to stay there rather than moving to their usual meeting place, Harry's room. Ginny and Hermione had applied some feminine touches to the room, flowery bed coverings, pictures on the walls and furniture, and so forth. Harry's room, however, generally surpassed theirs in terms of neatness, as Dobby made sure of that. On the other hand, with two beds and extra chairs, the girls' room provided a more comfortable setting for their discussions. The tension among the four remained below the surface, but they generally managed to set aside their personal differences during these meetings.

"This is not a plan, Harry. It's not even a start of a plan. There are only about ten million things that can go wrong." The witch's hair bounced back and forth with the force of her voice.

"Don't exaggerate, Hermione, there are only about five thousand things that can go wrong."

Harry's friends failed to laugh at his feeble attempt at a joke, not when he planned on entering a castle occupied by at least one hundred death eaters, trolls, dementors, and who knew what else.

Ron usually agreed with Harry in these arguments, preferring action to planning. In this case, however, Harry's plan, if that word could properly be used to describe it, lacked common sense and any decent hope of success. Ron could not sign off on it. Even if he still harbored resentment towards his former girlfriend, this issue transcended such pettiness.

"I have to agree with Hermione, Harry. There is just too much that can go wrong. Let's think this through a little more." Ginny nodded her head vigorously in agreement.

Frustration showed in the lines on Harry's forehead and eyes, as he paced the room. Sure, the plan had flaws, but what could he do? No other way could work. He had even considered asking Fawkes to help him, but Dumbledore explained that the phoenix would be unable to assist in such an operation for reasons Harry did not entirely understand. Dumbledore had limited knowledge of the castle, which had been infused with dark magic for centuries. The professor knew that a phoenix could not overcome its barriers. Still, Harry had confidence that Issamir could gain entry to the castle and move about undetected. Once he found Mrs. Malfoy, he would apply Ginny's plan of obtaining the information via veritaserum, modifying her memory, and slipping back out. It COULD work. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, as the others waited for him to respond. Finally Harry set his jaw and faced his doubters.

"Your objections have been noted. I'm going anyway." The three gaped at him in disbelief.

"Please reconsider, Harry," Hermione pleaded, "You can't be serious!"

Not serious? That was the last straw - that she would think him not serious. He stood and faced her, gritting his teeth.

"I have NEVER been more SERIOUS in my life. This is MY life on the line; don't you think I know it. We HAVE to have this information, and this is the ONLY way. We have the advantage of surprise. Voldemort still doesn't know that we know about the horcruxes. He has no reason to believe that we're after Narcissa Malfoy. The plan CAN work, and I'm GOING to do it!"

Hermione shuddered slightly from the ferocity of Harry's response, but she stood her ground.

"It's not just YOUR life on the line. It's all of ours. If you die, who do you think Voldemort's going to come after? You're the one who told me. He'll come after all of your friends. We have just as much reason to want this to work, and right now, it just has no chance. We know almost nothing about McNaughton Castle, other than it's been associated with dark magic for centuries. We have to have patience."

"But how are we going to find out about the castle?" countered Harry with agitated hands gesturing, "You've already tried to research it and found just a few generalities. If this is as much as we're going to know, then we better get on with it." The four friends stared silently at each other, but nobody contradicted Harry. Finally he lowered his voice and asked, "Will you help me? I would really appreciate it."

"Of course we'll help," answered Ron, his lanky red hair hanging below his ears, "but I don't know what we can do. We can't get into the castle. About all we can do is to wait for you. And hope."

"We'll need Hermione's help for sure."

"What do you need me to do?" Hermione asked with a puzzled expression. Harry smiled sheepishly.

"Since we've never been to the castle, or anywhere near there, we can't apparate. We could apparate to Hogsmeade, but we can't take the risk that we might be recognized. We need to take the muggle train, and . . . well, I don't know very well how to get around on the train. I've only been on the Hogwarts Express and the Underground."

"Oh, Harry!" cried his female friend, "I'll help. You know I will. When do we go?"

"Tomorrow."

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Hermione succeeded in convincing Harry to wait a couple of days to give them the opportunity to make what plans they could.

"We need a good map of the area around McNaughton Castle," Hermione decided as she pored over an engraving of the castle in a large tome from the Black family library, "Even though muggles can't see the castle, they can see the hills and valley, and muggles have mapped everything. We should buy a topographical map of the area."

"A what?" Ron and Ginny asked simultaneously. Harry vaguely recalled hearing about such a thing, but could not remember exactly.

"A topographical map," repeated the brilliant Gryffindor, "It's a map that shows the terrain of a certain area, how high the mountains are and how low the valleys. Usually it will also show established trails. We have discovered where the castle is, but we need to decide how it would be best for Harry and Issamir to approach it."

The four disguised themselves again and made the trek to a camping store that Hermione had visited in the past with her parents, as on occasion they had camped in her younger days. Soon they located the topographical map for the area around the castle. To the other three, the map appeared to be an incomprehensible mess of lines and numbers, but Hermione explained it to them briefly at the store, promising to go into more detail back at Harry's house.

They hovered over a table in the library of Grimmauld Place, two books opened to one side, and the newly purchased map spread out before them, the corners held down by more books. After much study, they narrowed down the area in which the castle must reside, and they studied that space line by line. Eventually they determined that Harry would best approach the medieval structure from the northeast. A small village sat just a few miles away on the other side of a ridge, so they decided that they would travel to the village the next day, and then assess the area in person. Not much, perhaps, but at least the four felt that they did what they could to prepare.

Ginny would not be allowed to make the trip with them. Despite her protests, the other three determined that her presence would not be necessary for the operation, and would only cause difficult questioning by Mrs. Weasley. Besides, as a minor it would not be proper to take Ginny along without her parents' consent, and they had no intention of asking for such consent. Ginny finally conceded defeat, though Harry noticed that she threw several irritated glances towards Hermione, not at all happy that the older witch would make the trip while Ginny had to stay stuck in London with her mother.

Molly's vigorous protests bore out the wisdom of this decision, as she worked herself into a furor when informed that Harry, Hermione and Ron would be gone for a few days to an undisclosed location. When they refused to answer any of her questions, she put her foot down and forbade them from going, but Harry put an end to the discussion.

"We were not asking for your permission, Mrs. Weasley. We are going tomorrow; we have no choice. The decision has been made." With that, he rose from his seat in the kitchen and left, Ron and Hermione following close behind.

The trip north took most of the next day, as they had to change trains twice, waiting in the stations for an hour or so until their line arrived. The final stop still left them several miles from the small village of Connery's Knoll, where they intended to rent a room for a couple of days. A taxi took them the final stretch, dropping them in front of the local hostel. The caretaker looked askance at the three teens, two boys and a girl, renting just one room, but she did not vocalize an objection. In a few moments, the three dropped their travel bags into a sparse room, two twin beds and a sofa which pulled out into a bed. Two nondescript pictures adorned otherwise dingy bare walls. Neither of the beds looked especially comfortable, but they did not care.

Connery's Knoll sat in a narrow valley created by rugged, if not especially lofty Scottish mountains. Finding a place to eat did not present a problem, as only one eating establishment existed in the town, The King's Pub. They realized how out-of-place they looked when they took their seats at a table, inspecting the crowd of grizzled men and women who by all appearances had never been to the big city. The patrons of the pub stared at the three teens momentarily, but Harry took care of the problem by pointing his wand under the table and silently pronouncing Muffliato. Suddenly the crowd returned to their conversations and the football game broadcast on the televisions perched high on the walls.

After quietly eating their supper, the three friends watched the final minutes of the football game, or better said, watched with mild amusement the boisterous locals in the pub watching the match. For all of their adventures, Harry, Ron and Hermione had truly lived sheltered lives during their years at Hogwarts, and knew little about "real" life.

"This is how the world really is," Harry mused to his friends, "People getting together and having fun. Muggles seem to do that a lot better than wizards and witches."

Ron and Hermione nodded their agreement, but said nothing. In fact, Harry could never recall a time when conversation among the three had been so difficult. Ron and Hermione still did not "converse" with each other, and though they no longer displayed fits of rage, or even long faces, the tension between them had begun to irritate Harry. He had so much to accomplish and hated having to deal with the new relationship among the three of them. Ron and Hermione sensed as much and tried their best to replicate the friendship of old, unsuccessfully. When combined with the knowledge of what they must do the next day, long silences punctuated their meal.

The match ended, and the pub had largely cleared out when Harry approached the bar to pay for their meal. The proprietor slid over to take the bills from the young lad, and looked him over.

"Not often we see young folk like you three 'round 'ere," the plump, middle-aged lady commented, "Passing through? Or planning to do some 'iking?"

Harry had not bothered to think of an alibi, which now he realized he should have, since they were fish out of water in this village.

Thinking quickly, he decided to accept the lady's latter suggestion, "Right, thought we'd take a look around these parts before heading further north. We have a couple of days before we have to be back."

"Well, plenty o' good walks 'round 'ere," she replied, "though it may be a bit chilly for you."

Maybe he could extract some information from this muggle, Harry thought, so he continued the conversation.

"We have a map of the area. Seems to be a trail of some sort just up the road." Harry pointed back to where they had come. "What kind of hike is that?"

"Don' wan' t' go tha' way," interrupted an especially grizzled man at the bar fingering his pint, "at leas' don' go too far up there. Once yeh ge' o'er the ridge, bad things 'appen. Say its 'aunted, some say."

"Oh don' go scaring 'em, Nigel," the proprietor scolded, "There's been talk for years about tha' valley, but I've been over there years ago. Nothin' to worry about. It is a bit creepy, tha' much is true. You may wan' to try another path, just down tha' way a mile or so. Easier walkin', if you ask me."

"Thanks," responded Harry, taking his change, "If we have time, maybe we'll try both. We'll be sure not to go too far." He knew they found the right place.

The three friends walked about the small village for a few minutes, which is all it took to see it, before returning to their room. Though tired from the day's travel, none of them wanted to go to bed. Tomorrow would be a momentous day, for better or worse. They poured over the map again, making plans to hike up the trail a ways in the morning to do a bit of reconnaissance. Final plans could be made afterwards. Harry had let Issamir loose in the room, and from time to time would let it know what they planned. The serpent voiced no objections.

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Three healthy teenagers in the prime of life huffed up the mountainous trail. So much time cooped up in Grimmauld Place had drastically reduced their physical endurance, and the three or four miles up and down the slopes gave them all that they wanted. Yet none of them complained, and only rarely did they pause to catch their breath in the thinner air. The mountains were barren or covered with low vegetation, occasionally punctuated with groves of gnarled trees. The trail did not appear heavily traveled, and at times they had to consult the topographical map to determine which way the trail should head.

Outdoorsmen they were not. None of them owned proper hiking cloths, so they wore old jeans and sweatshirts. At first the early morning dampness chilled them, but after a half hour's exertion on the hills, they appreciated the invigorating cool air.

Gloom surrounded them. The December clouds hung low, and from time to time a cold mist descended over the trail. Having left early in the morning, they reached the entrance to the McNaughton Castle valley by 9:30 am. They could not be sure how far down the valley the castle stood, but they could not see it from their current location. The valley tended to zigzag, such that they never had a clear view of the entire length. At this point, the three decided that they could no longer safely remain on the trail.

Examining the map and comparing it to what their eyes observed, they decided to veer off the trail to the left, where they could climb a promontory from which they hoped to be able to spy the castle. At first they descended slightly into the very edge of the valley before clambering up the ridge to the small peak. With no tree cover for protection, they approached from behind and crawled on top so as not to be seen from below. At last they could see McNaughton Castle in the distance, though partially obscured by the mist and lower hills in front of them. From where they lay, the medieval structure stood perhaps three quarters of a mile away, and they felt that they could not risk a closer approach at this time. Who knew what evils protected this castle.

Removing their omnioculars from their rucksacks, the same ones purchased by Harry at the Quidditch World Cup seemingly a lifetime ago, they zoomed their lenses to obtain a closer view. Undeniably, the castle was huge, though not as large as Hogwarts. Its thick grey walls practically melted into the barren ground around it, except for a forest of trees to the right. No moat protected the castle, which pleased Harry greatly, as he did not relish the thought of swimming among unknown creatures while inside of Issamir's body. No, the castle could be reached by land, but where to approach? They could not see the main entrance, which appeared to be on the far side. From their vantage point, they could see only the back and the side. The castle had been built on a severe slope, and they determined that gaining access from below would require rope and climbing equipment and would be impossible in the dark. After half an hour of study and quiet discussion, they unanimously decided. Harry and Issamir would approach through the grove of trees. None of them dared hazard a guess as to the denizens of those trees.

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The three had never been happier to be wizards and witch on their return journey. Choosing a slight hollow in the mountain just behind the peak as their apparation site, they committed it to memory. Then they avoided the hike out by apparating to a secluded spot they had identified near the trail head. From there they walked along the narrow highway the half mile back to Connery's Knoll. It seemed they had been gone all day, but as Harry glanced at the small digital clock in their room, it only displayed 1:30 pm.

After eating a hearty but nervous lunch at the pub, they sat down in their room one last time to make the final plans. All three of them displayed signs of nerves, speaking softly, with an air of resignation. At last they agreed that they had done all they could do. They would leave in two hours time, in the early evening.

"Do you think it can actually work?" Ron asked, rubbing his eyes with his hands. With so many unknowns, Hermione and he felt almost helpless

"It can work," Harry averred with as much confidence as he could muster, "but I don't think the bookies are going to give us very good odds."

Hermione decided that the time for second-guessing had passed, and like a coach of a team facing a superior opponent, she put on a good face.

"I know it can work. Like Harry said, we have the element of surprise, and they won't be expecting Harry to come in the body of a snake. You just have to be patient, Harry. Take all night if you have to. We'll be well hidden, and if we get cold, we'll put warming spells on each other, so don't worry about us. Get the information you need then get out of there." Harry nodded his understanding, and then stood and stretched his sore back muscles.

"Well, I may as well take a shower. Don't want to stink when I meet Mrs. Malfoy. Bad manners."

Ron and Hermione appreciated Harry's nervous good humor, and Ron indicated that he would buy some sandwiches and drinks to take with them. It could be a long night.

Harry looked forward to a nice hot shower, perhaps his last, but the shower in their less than luxurious room either flowed too cold or too hot, and no matter how he tried to adjust the faucet, he could not get it right. He could take care of it if he had his wand, but he had left it out in the room. Finally he gave up, turned off the water, and wrapped a towel around his waist so that he could retrieve his wand.

He stepped dripping wet into the room where Hermione lay on one of the beds, fiddling with her rucksack. She looked up at her mostly naked friend, and could not help staring at him.

Harry suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable, and muttered, "Need my wand. Can't get the water the right temperature." Hermione just nodded but could say nothing. Her long-time friend could not be considered a great physical specimen by any means. Nevertheless, he had put on a bit of muscle as he matured, and given his natural slimness, she considered him quite handsome as he pulled his towel a little tighter around his waist. But his body showed the wear and tear of his troubled life. Hermione had rarely seen Harry without a shirt, and certainly never stepping out of the shower dripping wet. But after the shock wore off, she could not help but notice the many scars on his body.

Harry saw her perplexed expression and asked, "What?"

"Oh, well, I've just never seen all of your scars," she explained with more than a touch of embarrassment, "I mean, I never knew you had so many." She tried to look away but could not.

Harry walked over to the dresser where the ancient TV sat, as he thought he had left his wand there, but he had not.

As he turned sideways, Hermione saw an especially long scar, and despite herself, she asked, "What's that one?" Harry looked where she pointed.

"Dragon. Triwizard Tournament. This one's from the Basilisk."

Hermione felt her temperature rising, and could only respond, "Oh." Harry finally located his wand on the night stand in between the two twin beds, and he walked past Hermione to collect it. She continued to stare at his mementos of war as if she were Luna Lovegood, but said nothing else. As quickly as he could, Harry returned to his shower and wondered why he felt so strange. Soon the soothing warm water relaxed his muscles, and his mind returned to the task at hand: McNaughton Castle.

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"Wand, Issamir, veritaserum."

Harry made sure he had all that he needed, and then hissed briefly at the snake, letting it know that they were about to descend from the hollow where they had just apparated down to the creek at the bottom of the valley.

Ron and Hermione had bundled up against the cold in thick jackets and scarves, and all three of them cast warming spells on the others which helped fight off the chill. A few stars peered through the broken grey clouds above them, but otherwise the night sky was pitch black. Moonless. Harry did not dress as warmly, as he did not want the bulk of the clothing on him when he left the serpent's body inside the castle. He shivered despite the warming charm, especially when the mostly mild breeze unexpectedly gusted.

"Keep quiet. And don't make any light. Stay right here. Somehow I'll get back." Harry seemed unable to speak a sentence more than a few words long, and his nerves only contributed to his shivering.

Hermione stepped forward and as best she could through her down jacket she hugged Harry and kissed his cheek. They stared briefly into each other's eyes, and then embraced again, lingering for several moments.

"We'll be here. Remember, take your time and be patient. Take all night if you have to." Simple words, but they took all of her effort to speak. She wondered if she would ever see him again. So much could go wrong.

Ron patted Harry on the back, but could only offer a simple, "Good luck, mate." Harry turned and took a few steps, only to stop.

Without looking back, he said, "If I don't . . . I just want you to know how much I appreciate everything you've meant to me. Tell Ginny too." He wanted to say something more eloquent, but the words did not form in his brain, and he stepped forward quickly and with determination. He did not see the tears streaming down Hermione's face.

Within a couple of minutes, Harry, with Issamir in his pocket but with its head testing the air, arrived at the creek, perhaps half a mile above the castle. He would have liked to walk closer to the castle before entering the body of the serpent, but that would be too dangerous. For one thing, he could not see anything in the pitch black, and he knew that Issamir's eyes functioned better in the dark. More importantly, however, he heard rustling in the bushes. The two agreed, and Harry set Issamir on the ground next to a small boulder. In a moment, he disappeared.

"Relax as much as you can, Harry Potter, so that you can stay inside me for as long as possible. I will determine how to enter the castle. It should not be difficult."

With that the slender grey serpent shot like a spear from behind the rock and slithered the few yards to the creek, carefully entering the freezing water. Harry knew that the water had to be cold, but he did not feel cold himself, and he wondered how that could be. The creek by no means produced a torrent of water. Instead it babbled over smooth rocks and around larger boulders. Issamir expertly navigated the obstacles, occasionally stopping to lift its head and test the air. Within minutes, McNaughton Castle loomed large above them.

Issamir slipped silently from the quiet brook when the waterway bent towards the grove of trees next to the castle. Harry could feel the tension inside the snake, clearly concerned about the unknown. It slid noiselessly from rock to rock, bush to bush, and tree to tree. Harry heard noises and knew animals lurked about. He had to concentrate on not losing possession of his host, but more than once he almost lost the connection. At least he knew no werewolves would be out on this moonless night.

As they patiently approached the castle wall, Harry felt unsettled, cold. His mind started to waver, and just in time he recognized the presence of a dementor.

"Issamir! Dementor! Please hide until it passes." The snake slid off to the right into a hole created by the convergence of three rocks. They waited.

The dementor seemed to feel something human and dallied in the area. Harry began to hear faint voices in his mind, and he knew that he had to stay under control in order not to lose the connection with Issamir's body, but the voices became louder. Not Harry, he heard faintly but clearly. Just as panic began to set, Harry realized what he had to do. With a moment's concentration, he erected the ice wall of Occlumency in his brain. He knew nothing more.

"Harry Potter. Harry Potter. Are you awake? We must go, Harry Potter. The dark phantom has passed."

The hissed words of the snake renewed Harry's connection with his thoughts, and in a moment he recalled where he was and what he was doing.

"I'm fine, Issamir, let's move." The snake moved its head out of its shelter and tested the air, only to retract back into the hole. Through Issamir's ears and eyes, Harry heard footsteps and then saw the feet of two men walking by. Though he could not see above the knees, he knew they had to be death eaters on patrol, and more than ever he felt happy to be hidden within the body of the serpent. Issamir waited a few moments before gracefully exiting the hole and slithering closer to the castle wall.

The stand of trees could hardly be classified as a forest, yet in the dark of the moonless night the grove bustled with activity. Harry thought he saw hoofs of a unicorn, though from the eye level of the snake, he could not see the whole animal. A number of mice and rats scurried away from them, afraid of Issamir, but Harry did not give them a second thought, more worried about being prey himself to a larger animal or bird. The gnarled pines and firs seemed to be full of dark magic themselves, and Harry almost expected them to pick up their roots and walk. With relief they finally reached the side wall of McNaughton Castle.

"How are you going to get in?" asked Harry.

"An entrance will present itself," came the simple response of the serpent, which slithered along the edge of the large grey stone blocks which supported the medieval castle. Harry had no idea what the castle truly looked like, as he could only see the bottom three or four feet of its base. Issamir constantly tested the air with its tongue. Minutes passed, and Harry began to worry that the snake would be unable to gain entry.

Suddenly Harry felt the tell-tale rush of cold throughout him. Dementors had returned; a group of them. No doubt the earlier encounter had whetted the appetite of the shadowy creature, and it brought more of its companions looking for the human essence that it sensed earlier.

At the moment, the creatures remained at a distance, and with urgency Harry told Issamir, "The dementors are coming back. We have to get inside the castle now. They are sensing me somehow." Involuntarily, his thoughts moved up the valley three fourths of a mile to where his best friends currently huddled together. Harry could only hope that the dementors could not sense them at that distance.

"Do not worry, Harry Potter. I have found the entrance."

True to his word, Issamir traveled another six feet and then turned left, directly into the wall of the castle. From afar, it would have appeared that the snake pierced the stone itself, but in fact Harry found himself inside a drainage pipe. Though pitch black, even for the snake's sensitive eyes, Issamir nevertheless could "see" through its tongue, which it now constantly flicked. Harry had never experienced such a claustrophobic space, as the width of the pipe measured only two or three times the diameter of the serpent itself. There was no turning back, for Issamir could not have turned around even if it wanted to. The only consolation Harry could find was that the serpent remained calm and unconcerned.

The pipe sloped upwards at almost a forty-five degree angle, damp and cold with the residue of water. For what seemed like hours, they could see nothing, but after a few minutes, Issamir sensed that the pipe split in two directions. The snake stopped and inserted its body half way in the pipe to the right, repeatedly flicking its tongue. It then repeated the process to the left. For reasons it did not deem necessary to explain, Issamir chose the left, and before Harry knew what happened, they slid along at great speed. Gradually Harry realized that he could see, barely. Light came from somewhere, and Issamir intended to find it. Soon the light increased, and Harry could see the pipe clearly. The dim light entered from a pipe leading off to the right. Issamir slid up the steeply inclined side line more slowly, but in a few moments, it poked its head cautiously out of a drain. Finding the room empty, the serpent at last exited the pipe.

"We are in the castle, Harry Potter. Now the hard part begins."

"The hard part?" thought Harry, but he did not allow himself to finish the thought. He had tired considerably with the effort of possessing the snake. They had been at it for over an hour, and Harry knew that he needed a break.

"Issamir, I will leave your body for a few minutes. We need to rest." A moment later, Harry Potter's body appeared in a service room of some sort, which from the looks of it had not been used in recent times. Completely vacant, enough light came under the door that Harry could barely see. He sat down on the cold stone floor, leaning against the wall, and took several deep breaths to calm his nerves.

"Issamir is right," he thought, "Now we start the hard part."