The room was odorless. Candles flickered, some in mid-air, some balanced precariously atop large stacks of texts. Three Death Eaters stood behind her.
Clara was in the same room she had received the Dark Mark in. And Lord Voldemort was not five feet away, pacing up and down the high-ceilinged chamber.
"Your father tells me you are a smart witch." His high-pitched tone made him seem more freakish, more un-human. Clara kept a brave face on. "You are well advanced in your studies, are you not?"
Clara nodded her head, one swift, quick movement. She almost squeaked as she did it.
"Good." He said. "Then I have a mission for you. Oh, do not worry; it is not like the one Draco has received. It requires you to do little." He stopped his pacing and turned to face her. He looked into her eyes. "You will serve two Death Eaters in a raid. Your only purpose is to conceal the fight." His eyes flashed, sending chills up Clara's spine. "It would be a shame to have the Ministry step in and ruin a good duel.
"Now go! You perform tonight." Voldemort abruptly turned away and began his pacing again, his cloak sweeping the floor much like a Dementor's might before swooping in and stealing a Kiss. Clara's heart sped up. Tonight? Hands wrapped around Clara's arms and pulled her back into the shadows.
"Come, Clara, we must be quick." The three of them were in the grand ball room now, walking quickly to make it out of the boundaries of the Manor so that they might apparate to the raid sight. Bellatrix was pulling Clara along by her arm and making small talk with her in hushed speech. Greyback was already far ahead of them, eager for battle.
"I can't have my nephew's fiancé failing her first mission, now can I?" Bellatrix was telling her soon-to-be in-law. The way she said it did not quell the anxiety in Clara's stomach. Where were they going? Who were they raiding? What damage was going to be done? Bellatrix tugged her arm harshly when she lulled.
They made it across the hall and now the group was in a corridor, still walking at a fast rate, to make it outside. They passed by no one. Clara did not feel it was a good time to talk.
At the front doors, Greyback opened the right, letting in a chilling air. He slipped out, leaving it open for Clara and Bella. The front yard to the Malfoy Manor was big. Big enough to host a professional football match, in fact. Greyback kept walking, towards something in the middle of the grass, it seemed. He stopped undecidedly and turned to disapparate, his black form flying into the sky.
Bella's grip was hard as she dragged Clara to the middle of the field. Clara gulped.
"Follow me closely. And don't try to run; the Dark Lord would not be happy." Bellatrix turned suddenly and her ghostly form darted towards the sky. Clara didn't move. She stared after Bellatrix's weird shape. A minute passed. Then another one. Clara snapped herself out of it. She took a quick glance around. No one. If she left now, they wouldn't find her.
But at the same time, Clara knew they would, and then Voldemort would kill her. Clara gulped again and looked back into the sky.
Nothing. She could see the stars, but Fenrir and Bellatrix were gone. How far away were they now? And where were they going? What did Bellatrix mean by telling Clara to follow her? Clara breathed out sharply, trying to calm the panic that was slowly closing around her chest.
She closed her eyes and thought about Bellatrix, where ever she might be. It wouldn't occur to her until later that this method of apparition could seriously cause her to lose some limbs, but she wasn't thinking clearly. With one last thought of Bella and her mean face, Clara spun on her heal and felt the familiar constricting of her body, as if she couldn't breathe. A moment later it lighted and she felt herself floating. Clara opened her eyes.
What was this. Her body, or the black mass that was supposed to be, was racing over land, way faster than any Firebolt. She was well suspended over the neighborhood and could see London city lights in the distance.
Clara couldn't make heads or tails of it. Her body had taken a spirit form; where her feet should have been looked like the bottom of a withered coat, ripped and flapping gracefully in the night. She had no arms or an actual torso she could see and didn't quite feel her nose. There was no noise. She looked ahead of her.
There, in the distance, just into London, were two figures in the sky that Clara was sure were Fenrir and Bella. She pushed her form to move faster, to catch up so she might not lose them. It didn't take long for her to reach the pair. They sped over Big Ben and the London Eye. The water glittered in the evening lights. Soon it was all behind them and they approached the country side.
Ten minutes later, Fenrir landed on the ground of a field of weeds in a flutter of fabric. Bellatrix made a similar entrance beside him, followed by Clara, who was more than a little flustered by what she had just done.
"Quick." Fenrir ordered huskily. His words brought Clara out of her wonderment about the stunt flying over England she had just pulled off and alerted her to their surroundings. There was nothing but tall weeds sprouting in all directions. A small marshy pond sat quietly next to them and in the distance, past Greyback and Lestrange, Clara could see bright lights, as if from a house. Both he and Bella got their wands out and started into the weeds, towards the lights. Soon, she could barely see them.
What was she supposed to do? No one had told her anything! OK… I need to conceal the fight… does that mean 'hide?' Well, then that means a concealment charm, which I'll have to expand over the fight and… Oh dear. This was very complex magic. But she was Hermione Granger; she could do anything!
Oh, but she wasn't Hermione Granger, she was Clara Claret now.
Oh, shove it all. A voice in Clara's head told her. You are one hundred percent capable of doing this. Just think… think…
And suddenly, she had it.
Raising her arms high above her head, she shouted the spell.
In a spark of turquoise, Clara felt the Disillusionment charm spread from the tip of her wand to stretch around a mile radius. She closed her eyes to concentrate, and when she was sure she had it, Clara opened her eyes. There was a huge fire in the distance, where the other lights were. She could hear Bellatrix yelling taunts to people on the other side. Then a singular voice called out, as if to stop someone, and Clara could see Bellatrix in the weeds, keeping low and hissing like a snake. She started taunting. Clara retreated farther out, some ten feet away from the small opening next to the pond she had been standing in. It was a good thing she did, because not a moment later, a figure trampled into the pond, waving his arms around wildly to fend off any surprise attack.
Clara's blood ran cold. She almost let the ward drop.
Curses were flying now. Bellatrix and Fenrir emerged from the bushes and were openly engaged in fighting the person in the marsh. Three more persons joined the opposing side.
Everything was lit now, like a ceremonial burning ritual. The fire at the house was a monster now, igniting the sky no disillusionment charm could completely conceal.
The fighting escalated. Bellatrix sent one last hex in her wild manner. With a bitter laugh, she turned and formed into her ghost figure again and escaped into the air, Fenrir not far behind. The four figures in the marsh did not take too much time in realizing their attackers were gone. They ran back to the house.
The Burrow was completely engulfed in flames. It was disintegrating in front of their eyes. All of their possessions, all of their memories… all of Hermione's memories. She let the charm go listlessly, like someone being ordered under the imperious curse might.
Clara listened to Molly's sobs in the small marshy clearing, water high enough that some spilled into her boots. In the dim fire light, she quietly joined Mrs. Weasley.
Clara stayed in the marsh for a long time, long after the fire was put out and the reconstruction had begun. Spells were cast left and right, repairing scorched wood and lost appliances. No one spoke. Many times Clara almost revealed herself to help them, her friends, her family.
After a while, it started to rain and the marsh became muddier and the weeds sagged. It wasn't until Clara was soaked, her clothes and hair ruined, that she turned to apparate into the night.
The Claret's front yard was just as big as the Malfoy's. Clara padded up to the front doors in between two stone pillars. She ignored the golden knocker and instead pounded her fist against the polished wood. Duffy answered.
"Miss is home! Master and Mistress is worried! Miss must come in, out of the cold!" Duffy took Clara's hand and moved her inside. Clara shook out of the elf's grasp and squished through the foyer, into carpeted hallways where dirt water seeped into its plushness. She arrived at the drawing room door and turned the golden knob.
Lucius Malfoy was standing with his cane, leaning over Clara's parents on the couch to emphasis a point. Narcissa and Draco were sitting on a sofa behind him, Draco a little separated from his mother looking grave and Narcissa's expression unreadable. Everyone looked up when Clara walked in. Her parents stood up quickly and Draco bounced a little in his seat, as if he was going to stand up but then changed his mind.
There was silence as the group realized the state Clara was in. Her breathing was heavy and she was shaking. Her complexion was ghastly pale.
"Where have you been?" Her mother asked, deep worry shining in her eyes. "Draco came here and said they let him go. We've had no idea-"
"I don't want this to ever happen again." Clara said in a tone death might use with someone he hated. "First the Dark Mark and now a raid? On my friends?
"Why didn't anyone tell me? " She looked around the room meaningfully, half-hoping one of these people had an answer for her.
"We wanted to." Mrs. Claret told her daughter. "We wanted to, but-"
"No." Clara said sharply. "That's what you always say. Tell me honestly, why couldn't you?"
"It was too dangerous to say anything. We were trying to keep the two of you safe." Mrs. Claret said.
"It's more dangerous not knowing!" The room's attention shifted. Draco had a fiery look in his eyes.
"Draco, it is not your place to talk." Mrs. Malfoy scolded.
"Like hell it isn't." Draco talked back. The room was shocked by his sudden audacity. Draco stood up tall. "What the devil did you think was going to happen? Trapped in a bloody mansion with no words but that letter on the table." There was a shocked moment of silence. Then very carefully, and very coldly, Mr. Malfoy addressed his son.
"Sit down, Draco. As my son, and a Malfoy, you are expected to follow what your mother and I tell you. You have a duty to this family." Father and son glared at each other.
"Screw this family." Draco replied roughly. "I'm sick and tired of it."
Mr. Malfoy stood with his cane drilled into the floor and his knuckles white for the grip on it. His gray eyes were fierce upon his son and Hermione thought he was going to take a strike at Draco until he opened his mouth to speak.
"We will discuss this further at home. For now, thank you Mary, John. We look forward to seeing you tomorrow afternoon." He bowed and motioned for his wife to join him by the fireplace, completely ignoring the still seething Draco. Draco grudgingly walked to the fireplace, but did not enter with his parents. The flames ate Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy at the same time Draco turned around to nod at his future in-laws. Draco stepped into the hearth and a moment later he was gone.
How was it?
This was shorter, I know, and there was a long wait for it, but I'm hoping I can get the next one up soon.
Did anyone notice that I took this scene from the Half-Blood Prince movie? I just thought I could use it here ;)
Thanks again to all of my reviewers. You guys are awesome.
See you soon!