The title for chapter twenty-two is from…Children of Eden. Congrats to Yank2324, X-Kate-X, and Easterly Winds.
I know these couples of chapters have been angsty, but I promise there'll be some fluff after all this to make up for it all. Promise.
And CardboardCreative also did a brilliant job beta-ing this chapter for me. She is now my official new co-author/beta. I think Mara quit on me. Cardboard will be my co-author/beta for the sequel as well. Yay!
Merlin, I can't believe I'm posting this early...MidnightPopcorn has convinced me to post this now instead of next Monday. Thank her.
Chapter 23: Still Hurting
"Are you sure we're at the right place?" Hermione scanned the deserted hillside. "It doesn't look like there's anyone here… or ever has been."
"Don't question fate, Hermione. I know for a fact we're in the right place. See up there?" Harry pointed at an old house at the peak of the hill, features earnest. "That's the Riddle House."
"Fae's in there?" Snape raised an eyebrow skeptically. "I would suspect dozens of Death Eaters to be protecting the premises. She's not just a random prisoner."
"She's there, alright?" Harry snapped. He whacked the sides of his trousers angrily. "This is the house from my vision. They're keeping her in the basement."
"It's been two weeks since she was captured," Hermione noted, business-like. "If she's in as bad a condition as you described, Harry, then she could possibly be dead by now."
"It's better to know, 'Mione, than to keep wondering," Harry answered softly, "and if she is dead, we can't leave her body here at any cost."
The trio began their ascent up the hill, the dewy grass rough and dying beneath their feet.
"Remember, our sole objective is to get Fae out of there. So try to remain as unobtrusive, as inconspicuous, as discreet-"
"We're not daft, Potter," interjected the Potions Master with a sneer, unhappy about their small hike. "If anyone deserves a reminder, it's you."
Hermione recognized that an argument was about to surface, which would be the last thing they needed. She quickened her pace and asked hastily, "Harry, are we the only ones? I thought Ron was supposed to be here as well."
Harry shrugged, indifferent. "I thought that more Order members equaled greater chances of being caught. And Ron's not coming. I asked him, but he got all moody like he does nowadays and said he was too busy with one thing or another."
"Busy?" Hermione brushed her frizzy hair from her eyes, frowning. "He seems to be awfully preoccupied lately. What in the world could he have gotten himself into now?"
Snape glowered at his ex-students as they reached the back door of the house and silenced them with an index finger. "Weasley can be under discussion later, preferably when I'm not around." He was practically whispering, the low droll of his voice still present.
Without waiting for his comrades to reply, he withdrew his wand from a pocket in his black robes and easily unlocked the door. With a gentle click, it opened, revealing a pitch-black hallway. It seemed guilty, as though it never saw the outside world before, or that it wasn't supposed to. The air that seeped out and diluted with the outside breeze was heavy and sinister.
Harry whipped out his wand and held it in front of him, poised like a man carrying a loaded pistol. He wondered if his pounding heart that reverberated off his ribcage was audible to the others. Harry was a little more nervous than he'd like to admit, and he hoped that his wand wasn't shaking.
"Hermione?" he practically breathed.
Hermione nodded, and halfway through the second bob of her head, she transformed into her animagus form, a tawny owl. Spreading her wings almost regally, she took flight into the dark, gaping hole of an entrance. Outside, Harry and Snape waited without sound, tense and skeptical of the near future, as anyone would be. After a few relentless minutes, the owl appeared from out of the darkness.
She landed awkwardly at the feet of her colleagues, being an owl who was used to perching on solid ground. Hermione was in human form just as swiftly as she had abandoned it.
"It's empty. There's a flight of stairs leading down at the end." She turned to Harry. "Harry, it…doesn't feel right, though."
"At least we know where we're going," Harry said, familiar with that sense of unease. He began walking into the house. "Let's go."
Once they were in the house, they closed to door behind them. They were immediately shrouded in pitch darkness and were unable to see their own hands in front of them in the unfamiliar blindness .
"You have your Portkeys?" Harry asked, his words made out of breath. He could only feel the movement of Hermione and Snape nodding. He turned to look down the hall. Their ears strained to recognize any sound, relying on their five senses instead of risking a light from their wands. The hallway was carpeted and musty, and clouds of dust loosened from the ceiling as they walked along. The flight of stairs came like an answer to Harry's prayers.
"This is it," Harry spoke in a hushed tone. "I was here in my dream. Over to your left is the steel door."
"Well, what is it that we're waiting for?" Snape slunk towards the door, careful in the dark. "The sooner we're out, the better. Alohomora."
Even to Snape's surprise, the door unlocked. He hypothesized heavy security, but Voldermort was obviously overconfident in his plans, which was unnerving.
Hermione hesitated as the others approached the door, and she received a cold stare from Snape, one that she could only feel. Their silhouettes became visible now in the light from beyond the steel door.
"You want an invitation, Granger?" Snape hissed.
"Come off it," she murmured, taking a few nimble steps. "Still, this just seems too… slack, too easy for us." She paused. "If Fae really is hidden down here, wouldn't there be Death Eaters around? If they were stupid, we'd have defeated them long before this. They wouldn't keep her without security."
"Let's count our blessings," Harry said impatiently. "Maybe they don't think she's capable of escaping. Now, let's take advantage of it."
For now, at least, Hermione cast away her doubts and followed Harry and Snape into the cold room. The worried feelings tightened at the sight of Elphaba's form chained to the wall. It felt like someone had inserted a wrung-out beach towel in her chest.
"Oh Merlin, Fae," she moaned, nausea fighting to get the best of her. She closed her eyes and covered her mouth to prevent herself from vomiting.
Dry blood matted Elphaba's hair, and streaked down her face and neck, contrasting deeply with her emerald skin, which was considerably dull and sickly yellow in the light. She looked like a disturbed interpretation of Christmas. Hermione didn't believe arms could twist into the odd angle that Elphaba's right arm was in. Purple bruises and open wounds riddled the visible parts of her arms, indicating that the rest of her body was in such a condition. The lingering stench reminded the witch of infection, and she feared that open sores like those could be the death of a person.
Mimicking that of a crucifix, Elphaba was strung up traditionally, arms supporting her entire body weight. They couldn't see her face properly, as it hung low on her chest. Each breath Elphaba took could only be identified with seconds of squinting, and they became scarcer and shallower even as they watched.
"Bastards," Snape inhaled sharply. "Those sadistic bastards."
Harry would have opened his mouth and reminded Snape of the day he was one with the 'sadistic bastards', but even he knew it wasn't the time for wit or superiority. Instead, he barked a command.
"Snape," he ordered, "help me unchain her. In these conditions, she's not going to last."
"And do you expect me to just stand around?" Hermione hissed, looking pale herself.
"No. Keep a lookout for Death Eaters, or Tom himself. Even if we haven't seen anyone yet, you're right. This is too easy…" Harry trailed off and held his courage.
Minutes ticked by as Harry and Snape worked without words to bring Elphaba from the wall, holding their breath at the sour smell of abused blood and flesh. Unlike the locks on the doors, simple unlocking charms wouldn't budge the manacles that bound the green woman. Harry searched his memory for the Auror lessons he was required to memorize.
Meanwhile, Elphaba was still unresponsive and heavy as deadweight, and if she was conscious, there'd be no way to tell.
"Ageru." Harry tried a spin-off of the 'Alohmora' charm, and Snape almost tripped over his robes to catch Elphaba as she fell forward.
"Help us support her," Harry urged Hermione, who obliged. "I can't support her and the Portkey back at the same time."
"Make sure her body is fully supported," reminded the Boy who Lived. "We could kill her on the way back if she isn't."
Hermione held onto Elphaba's stiff form as Harry fumbled with the Portkey from his pocket. It was a tin of mints. "Lemon drops," he recited, grasping his friend's forearm, ready to transport in a group.
Nothing happened.
Elphaba's rescuers froze as amused laughter filled the dark hallway outside. The footsteps sounded unreal, more like a shuffled slithering.
"And the Mudblood is correct again. You didn't think it would be so easy? 'Take advantage of the opportunity'…" Voldemort mocked as he appeared in the doorway, lips curling into a smile that would appear to be a frown no matter how hard he tried.
"Those Portkeys are obsolete here, Potter. All around you are anti-apparation and anti-portkey wards. All about the house. You've just arrived. Don't you want to stay for some fun?"
Both Harry and Snape positioned themselves in front of Elphaba's useless body protectively.
"Stay away from Fae, Voldemort," Harry warned lamely, but he pointed his wand at the Dark Lord.
"That's just like you, Potter," Voldemort scoffed, "loyal to the bitter end. But, you on the other hand…" he turned to Snape. The potions master pointed his wand with the same amount of gusto as Harry had.
"Severus, my slippery snake, did you think we would never meet again?" Voldemort wrung his weak, bony hands. "Now, I prefer this gathering to any other. For one, I am here. Then there's Severus, representing the traitor in all of us. Potter, in my hands no matter how far you run. The Mudblood: amusing as you are, I wonder how far you'd stray from your true lineage to stay alive. And, oh! We can't forget my new, favorite punching bag, can we?"
Harry held back the urge to scream, settling on clenching his fists instead. "How did you figure us out?" he demanded.
"The little boy wants to know how I figured him out!" Voldemort announced to no one, but laughed as he went along. It was he who caused the air to be so heavy. The dread in the room was volumous and weighed down on the trio. "Perhaps you'd like to ask a certain mutual friend of ours."
Scruffy red hair emerged from the darkness, revealing a smug looking Ronald Weasley. He was clad in Death Eater robes, amused by Harry's gaping expression.
"Fancy meeting you here, mate." He sneered, feeling stronger in the supportive presence of his Lord. The more Ron stepped forward, the more Harry shrunk from him. "Rather stingy accommodations, but what can you expect from a mere Muggle?"
"Ron?" Harry felt something cold in his chest, "what have you done now? Oh, Merlin, why?"
"Ha! Why?" growled the redhead, any pretense of kindness absent from his tone. "Because, Potter, there is power so much greater than you could ever imagine or possess. And now I have it, now that I've found my true calling."
He gave a slight bow, and Voldemort's expression of pure joy increased.
"I wanted power, I got it," Ron summarized. "I wanted you to feel pain, and you're feeling it. I wanted revenge on Thropp…"
"Y-you did this, Ron?" Hermione indicated the green witch in her arms, voice surprisingly shrill for the regret spelt on her face. "To another human being?"
"I can't take full credit," Ron shrugged nonchalantly, as if he were discussing the results of an unimportant Quidditch game, or the way he used to reveal his horrible scores of History of Magic tests. "My Lord did give me special permission to have some fun with her, though."
Hermione shook under the weight of Elphaba's body. It one peered closely, it was caused by a shudder of anger. "That's impossible." She glared daggers at the Death Eater, as though this was just another argument like the ones they had had when they were in school. "I know you were always looking to be glorified, but… oh, Ronald, not like this! How could you?"
Ron watched her with an eyebrow raised, rocking on the balls of his feet. "How could I?" he reiterated, planning to answer. "Well, it's simple, really. I get my wand, and just shoot a curse. The Cruciatus always made her fall on her back, very vulnerable to punches. If you toss 'er here, 'Mione, I could demonstrate. Hey, better yet, put 'er down and come over here yourself. I've been thinking to have some fun with you as well."
If Hermione looked shocked, it was portrayed through her eyes, for her face was red as a beetroot from anger. She clutched the limp, green witch closer.
"You are pitiful, Weasley," Snape drawled, the grip on his wand tightening, itching to cast a killing cruse on the Death Eater before him. "Fae did nothing you could possibly extract revenge upon her for."
"Au contraire, you greasy traitor, her mere presence drove me to where I am today." Ron succumbed to a relaxed smile. "Her presence in England kept pushing, pushing, pushing me to the side, until I stumbled here."
"Ron," Harry pleaded softly, not willing to believe this was of his ex-friend's own free will. "Please, come back with us. Everything is fixable. Whatever happened to the eleven year old who sacrificed himself for friendship in a game of real Wizard's chess? Or the same boy, who, a year later, braved unlikely odds to save his sister from the same monster he's serving now?"
As if an internal debate were being held behind Ron's eyes, his irises flickered, but it died as soon as it was born. "Don't pull that memory lane rubbish on me, Potter. My Lord and I – we've won! And Thropp's death will be the champagne bottle shattered on our sailing ship."
Snape grumbled something unintelligible to the others at their vicinity, but with a swift point at Ron with his wand, he let out a yell. "Avada Kedevra!"
The Killing Curse that was aimed at the Death Eater sped toward him, and he dove out of the way, creating a window of opportunity. Harry, Snape, and Hermione made a team effort of hauling Elphaba out of the door, moving swiftly as possible into the confusing hallway.
"Weasley! Don't let Thropp out of here! I want to see the light leave her eyes! I want to see her drown in her own blood! Bring them back here!" Voldemort barked, his voice crazed at he thought of how many ways Elphaba could die. His eyes were glowing with anger and a craving for Elphaba's blood.
Ron and Voldemort sprang after the three Order members, whose escape was hindered greatly by the dead weight Hermione was abandoned to carry alone. Ducking and weaving through the bombardment of curses sailing over their heads in fascinatingly beautiful and deadly colors, they desperately shot curses, randomly reaching over their shoulders, not worried if they reached their target so much as hoping it slowed their shadows down.
They reached the ground floor of the house huffing and puffing, throwing spells down the flight of stairs. Harry realized they weren't going to reach the door in time. For one thing, it was pitch dark, save for the flying curses, and the door was twice as far away as Ron was. The Death Eater would intercept their only exit. Harry wanted to laugh bitterly at Ron being the death of him.
Looking around wildly for any other possible escape route, Hermione pointed her wand at the walls next to her and screamed frantically, "Bombarda!"
The wall she aimed at exploded in huge chunks of stone and cement, creating a large hole for them to escape. The fog of dust, cement, and drywall threw Ron off for a moment, leaving Hermione to squeeze through the hole with Elphaba. Whipping out her Portkey before she even made it out of the house, it activated.
In a frantic rush of terror and dirt, Hermione, Harry, Snape, and Elphaba disappeared from the sight, reappearing in the cozily lit Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. Harry and Hermione landed on top of Elphaba, and jumped off in fright when they realized what it could do to her.
"Madame Pomphrey?" Hermione called. There was no reply from the nurse's office. The entire wing empty.
"Dammit," muttered Snape. "The one time we need her, she's not even around! That is what I call quality nursing."
"Quit being a jerk, and put her up on this bed," Harry directed, helping Hermione to her feet. "I'll find Madame Pomphrey. Snape, you should go find potions that Fae may need. Then, go and inform Dumbledore of all that's happened. Hermione, do your best to stabilize her until Pomphrey gets here!"
With a nod of affirmation from his companions, Harry trotted out of the Wing, broke out into a sprint, and hoped to Merlin they weren't too late. His mind split into several different directions, from Ron's turning to Pomphrey's whereabouts to Elphaba's blood-caked face. Then, he realized something.
The Maurader's Map.
He rushed to his room and found the old piece of parchment. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he panted between choked gasps for breath, tapping the parchment a little harder than intended. Instantly, an inky map of Hogwarts seeped through the piece of the parchment, revealing that Madame Pomphrey was currently walking into the entrance hall with Glinda. Pocketing the map, he set off at a dash towards the hall.
"Potter?" Pomphrey squinted at the Boy-Who-Lived. "What's going on?"
"We need you- Hospital Wing- Fae!" Harry gasped, holding his sides and emitting wheezing coughs.
Madame Pomphrey was already twenty paces ahead of him by the time he stood up, and he hurriedly followed her back to the Hospital Wing.
"Harry?" Glinda said timidly, feeling mildly disoriented. She already decided she didn't want an answer, but she asked anyway. "H-how is Elphie?"
The dark haired man gave her a serious look, feeling like he was about to break the sad news that his little daughter that he couldn't buy her ice cream today. He sighed, and not just to steady his breathing. "It's like this, Glinda," he fumbled, "I'm surprised she's still alive. And from the way things look… err… they don't look good."
Glinda continuously repeated mentally that she would not cry under any circumstances as they reached the Hospital Wing. She pushed the doors open and charged through, halting in her steps and covering her mouth at Elphaba's emaciated form. The blonde's vision swam, preventing her from seeing the damage in its full extent. Wiping her tears on her sleeve, she surveyed her lover's body, holding in sobs, which resulted in cramps.
"Elphie," Glinda whispered, pushing aside some hair from the unconscious witch's forehead. She spoke quietly, pretending that only she and Elphaba could hear. "Oh, look what they did to you. I'm so sorry, Elphie. Please forgive me. Please wake up so you can hear me."
"Alright, people. Stop crowding her!" Pomphrey snapped, sounding very much like an Auror herself as she walked up to the bed, bundles of supplies under each arm. "Potter, I assume the Headmaster knows of Fae's rescue?"
"No, but I sent Snape to get him a few minutes ago. He should be back by now. Where the bloody hell is he?" Harry asked no one in particular.
"No need to worry, dear boy." Dumbledore swept in from behind them, like an omniscient wind. "I came as soon as Severus found me. Poppy, how does Fae look at this point?"
"Give me time, Albus. I just got to her. Patience," she soothed, casting a diagnostic spell. She coughed, not unprofessionally.
"Potter, write this all down." She ordered, Harry jumped to a quill and parchment at the bedside. "Malnourishment, two cracked ribs, a broken right arm, various infected wounds, severe blood loss, blood accumulation in the lungs, deep bruises, damaged vocal cords, second degree burns, crook and flail markings, and a slight concussion."
"Merlin," Harry spoke softly as he concluded the list of injuries. What were the possibilities that anyone could survive that?
"Glinda," Pomphrey said suddenly, causing the woman to jump. "I've been teaching you some healing techniques to help aid in this war. I know it's sudden, but now you need to make use of yourself. Stop any spreading infections and bandage the open wounds."
Glinda nodded, not bothering to speak. She didn't think there was much use of her words if Elphaba couldn't hear. All she had to say was directed at the unconscious green witch anyway.
Madame Pomphrey turned to face Snape, her stamina against panic unsullied. "Snape, I need a Blood Replenishing Potion and a Pepper-up Potion. An Anti-Cruciatus, as well. Fae is relying on you to do this quickly for her."
"Pomphrey, how do you expect Fae to drink the potions?" shot the Potions Master. "If you hadn't noticed, the unconscious tend to lose their thirst."
"We can't wait for her to wake up; we'll inject it directly to the bloodstream. The potency of the potion will lessen, yes, but she's in great need of them all, especially the Blood Replenishing Potion."
Snape stood still, waiting for further instruction it seemed. Pomphrey barked at him impatiently, "Go now!" She motioned for Hermione to come forward, who was still covered in plaster and dust from the explosion. "Granger, help me clear her lungs. That's the culprit for her trouble with stabilizing."
The bushy haired witch stumbled through the bundles for the proper supplies, Pomphrey pointing out what they should and shouldn't use. She twirled to Dumbledore and Harry. "Albus, you and Potter will have to leave now." Harry made to argue, but she swatted at him, herding them out the doors. "Out! Now! Out!"
"Please, Madam Pomphrey," Glinda appeared, placing the bandages and salves on the bedside table, "will Elphie be alright?"
Madam Pomphrey's face softened for the first time since entering the Wing, exhaling politely so as not to upset the girl. "It doesn't look good right now. There are too many injuries to tell right away. When we drain her lungs and you dress her wounds, then I'll obverse her for a while. Don't cry, dearie. This is to be expected. Suck in your pride for now." Pomphrey patted the blonde's shoulders with light sympathy. "With luck, she'll pull through."
Glinda turned away and held back her tears, knowing she promised not to cry. Suppressing a flash of memories proved hard to do. Images of romping around Shiz's campus, rounds of laughter in the pub in town with Fiyero, their first night together at Hogwarts, their lips touching in the changing room before Elphaba was captured. Why did she feel so useless?
"Pomphrey!" Hermione called, breaking Glinda's train of thought. "Help me!"
"What is it? What's happened?" The nurse strode toward the bed, wand in one hand, and plastic tubing in the other.
"I-I cast the Clearing Spell," Hermione shrieked, hands flying frantically, "and Fae's not breathing… she's not breathing!"
Coming up: Glinda spills her heart out.
Seeing that this was posted earlier, this cliffhanger will be resolved on Sunday/Monday rather that two weeks from Monday. I hope you're happy! Spoil my fun, why don't you?
-Wolfie