Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Lord Voldemort

In the end, Charity's parents got their wish – she never did make it to Hogwarts to teach Muggle Studies that year. The decision came down on a day that Charity had felt upbeat for the first time since before Dumbledore's funeral. It had been a week since her letter was published, and by now it was nothing more that lining for her bunny's cage. Even her parents seemed more relaxed. Still, she did promise them to stay either at home or in well-lit public places for the remainder of the summer. Today she was going shopping in Diagon Alley in London and meeting some of her girlfriends from Preppy for lunch. She kissed her parents and stepped into the fireplace.

She arrived in the Leaky Cauldron, a London pub that was the gateway between the Muggle world and the purely magical Diagon Alley. After a friendly hello to Tom, the barman, Charity quickly made her way out back, wrinkling her nose at the rank aromas that blended to create a smell that put one in mind of, well, a leaky cauldron. Her way out was not impeded by the throngs of witches and wizards that had typically crowded the place before Voldemort's return. Once in the back courtyard, she simply tapped a certain brick in the wall, and Diagon Alley suddenly stood before her.

The shop-lined street was not exactly bustling; more than a few shops had gone out of business and been boarded up. Nevertheless, the all-important summer issue of Witure with the latest look in robes (blue is the new black!), boots (you can never be too pointy), and other witchwear brought out a respectably-sized crowd for fashion season. Charity was going into this fashion season with a heavier heart than she had ever known, but her spirits were buoyed by the chance to get out and think about something light and unimportant for a change.

After stopping by Gringotts to withdraw a few knuts and sickles, she stopped at the candy cart to pick up some popping pecans for her mother. Then it was off to her favorite dress shop, Crystal's Ball, to meet her friends. She stepped into the familiar glittering lights that bounced around among the dresses, jackets, skirts and tops. Periodically, one of the glittering lights would rest on a particular dress or outfit and enlarge to spotlight it. The owner said that there was one unique light for each of his customers and that the custom lights would select outfits specifically suited to that customer. Charity was skeptical about the truthfulness of this claim, but she did always like what the little lights picked out for her.

She looked around for her girlfriends, but they hadn't yet arrived. She then looked for the shop owner - a round, little wizard named Vincenzo with a happy face that was always ready to please. Instead she spotted a thin salesgirl with heavily applied eye make-up that she didn't recognize. The salesgirl made her way past two other customers and with a wide smile told Charity to let her know when she was ready to try something on.

"Certainly," Charity smiled back. "I'm here on my annual dress-buying binge. I don't think we've met."

"Oh, probably not. I just started last month. I'm Annie," the salesgirl said with another smile that didn't strike Charity as all that sincere.

"Hi, Annie. Nice to meet you. Is Vincenzo in today? I'd love to say hello to him."

"He's a little tied up right now, and I don't think he'll be able to break away before you leave," the girl answered. This time her big smile seemed a bit more genuine.

Charity's friends still hadn't arrived, so she decided to make good use of her time and get shopping. Crystal's Ball, along with most of the other dress shops, carried color changing gowns. These gowns would immediately change colors when they sensed too much of the same hue in a room. The color-changers came in equally handy when the wearer was caught by surprise at a black and white ball; in that case all color would discreetly drain from the gown.

What set Vincenzo's shop apart from the others was his Morph-Wear. Vincenzo took fashions from top designers and wove threads of charmed materials into them. These charmed materials would automatically adjust the outfit to the specific body type of the wearer. For example, a skirt might lengthen a bit for a witch with knobbley knees. For a long-legged Veela, the same skirt would become considerably shorter. This process was by no means as simple as it sounds, and asking too much of any Morph-Wear could result in nothing but a pile of shredded fabric. Charity noticed a rather rotund customer heading back to the dressing room with a Morph-Gown that was positively trembling on its hanger.

After approving several of the selections made by her spotlight, Charity headed toward the dressing rooms herself. The salesgirl from earlier met her halfway there and directed her to a room at the far end. "This one is roomier than the others," she said. "I've been saving it for you."

"Thank you," said Charity as she shut the door behind her. "Oh, I am supposed to meet some friends any minute," she called through the dressing room door. "If they come in, please tell them where I am."

"Sure will," the sales girl called back cheerfully.

Charity began as she usually did with a phoofy, glittery, pink number that she would never actually wear in public, but was still fun to try on. This always seemed to help make her other choices of wardrobe seem more practical. As she was admiring the puffy vision of herself in the mirror, she wondered if in twenty years she'd be staring back at a likeness of the woman in the Gryffindor portrait. Hmm, best to push thoughts of Gryffindor Tower from her mind.

As Charity reached back to unzip, she noticed a clear, shimmery, glass-like substance rising up along the insides of the dressing room walls. Was this some new gimmick of Vincenzo's? The glass reached the top of the walls, and by the time Charity thought to ask the over-attentive salesgirl for some explanation, the substance had formed a kind of ceiling above her.

Then something even stranger happened. The substance, which had now formed a giant bubble, started to ascend, lifting Charity with it! She shouted out for an explanation but received no response. She could see the people in the shop as the bubble lifted her above the dressing room walls, but they didn't seem to see or hear her. Just before the bubble started pushing through the shop ceiling, she saw her salesgirl quickly departing the store. Odd.

Charity's full attention was drawn to the ceiling, which she was rapidly approaching. Was the bubble going to crush her against it? She reached for her wand but remembered that the salesgirl had offered to hold on to it right before she'd entered the dressing room. Charity prepared to push against the ceiling in resistance, but her hands went through it, and somehow she was able to transcend through the ceiling along with the bubble. She continued her ascension through the store's attic and then out through the roof.

When she found herself floating over the pedestrians on Diagon Alley, she tried yelling and waving for some assistance. She hesitated to pound or tap on the bubble itself, afraid it might pop and send her careening to the pavement. Realizing that her enclosure was obviously keeping her invisible to the outside world, she eventually collapsed, exhausted, onto the soft but impenetrable floor of the bubble. Far below her, Diagon Alley was shifting away as she had stopped rising and began moving sideways.

What exactly was happening? As she contemplated her situation, she gazed down through the transparent floor at the sight below. London was now passing slowly by, and she could see the Thames winding its way past Parliament to Tower Bridge. It was really quite lovely. Was this some sort of a surprise from her father? He knew she was never adept at flying; he also knew how fond she was of aerial pictorials such as the one Oliver Wood had given her at her last birthday.

How like her father to surprise her, especially in a way that would keep her transparent to the outside world - something he was keen on lately. He probably thought this was a safer way to transport her home. She did wish he would have checked with her, though, because now she was going to miss lunch with her girlfriends. Unless her girlfriends were now also floating in bubbles and her father had arranged a special luncheon for them all in a surprise location! "Oh, daddy!" she thought happily.

Her happiness faded as she continued her slow pace through London, and the countryside took over. She was growing weary and hungry and grumpy. A witch in a pink, glittering dress floating over the countryside in a bubble – had there ever been anything so ridiculous? "Really, Daddy!" she muttered aloud in agitation, feeling a bit like her mother.

Much time passed, and the sun began to set. Eventually Charity's glass enclosure slowed considerably, and a large estate came into view in the darkening countryside. Charity's bubble passed over a high curving hedge and a large wrought iron gate. She could make out some kind of large white birds strutting among the shrubs. Light was shining out from diamond-paned glass in the lower level of the manor home that she was approaching. The bubble moved to the center of the building's roof and began to descend through each floor of the grand mansion. She did not see any sign of her girlfriends as she moved downward.

The bubble finally came to a landing on an uneven surface. She found herself in a dark, dank room. The ceiling was low and the floor was dirt. It was her first clue that the bubble may be something more sinister than a surprise from her father. Just then the bubble popped. She heard only a faint dripping and her own slow breathing, and she wondered what was going to happen next. The air coming slowly into and out of her mouth was cool and damp. She stood very still. Only her eyes moved in an attempt to survey her new surroundings as they adjusted to the darkness.

Suddenly she was face-to-face with an unnaturally white creature that seemed to be caught mid-transition from man into some kind of horrible reptile. Any ounce of courage that Charity clung to evaporated the second she laid eyes on Voldemort. Two Death Eaters had approached her from either side and gripped her arms tightly in case she attempted to flee. Feeling her weakness, they released her and she fell immediately to her knees and dropped her head down to the ground, so she would no longer have to look at this vile creature in front of her. Even so, Charity's mind remained filled with its image. She was only vaguely aware that she was kneeling on damp earth and of the faint dripping sound in the distance.

Then the creature spoke. "Are you bowing to the Dark Lord?" he hissed. "It's a little late for that."

Charity's head was jerked up by a force outside of herself, and she could not tear her eyes from that face. She trembled uncontrollably.

"Yesss, you should be very frightened, my dear," the strangely high-pitched voice said. As the wicked voice continued, it grew louder with every syllable. "I could have overlooked your article defending Muggles, your loveliness. Written it off as the harmless musings of an overprIVELEDGED PRINCESS!" He was practically shrieking now.

If Charity had been capable of feeling anything but fear at that moment, she would have really, really, really wished that she was wearing anything but that pink, poufy dress right then. As it was, she barely even noticed that as he spoke, she was lifted into the air and began to slowly turn upside down. "BUT YOU DARE TO SUGGEST THAT VOLDEMORT, THE MOST POWERFUL WIZARD THAT EVER LIVED WAS PART MUGGLE!"

Charity was now completely upside down with blood rushing to her head. "WHO TOLD YOU THESE LIES?" he screeched. He stood with his eye slits barely an inch away from hers. Charity stared with terror into the chilling hatred that consumed him. She was half paralyzed but knew she had to answer.

She croaked, "I...I…don't know…it was just gossip…I'm sure no one believes it."

Voldemort seemed to accept her answer as he stepped away. Charity began to pray for this nightmare to end. Then the creature turned, pointed his wand at her, and hissed "Crucio!"

Charity writhed as every inch of her body was wrenched with extreme, burning pain. She found herself wishing to explode just to end it all. Then everything went blissfully black. When she regained consciousness, she was still suspended upside down in mid-air, but was now hovering over a large table surrounded by people. Her immediate instinct was to try to break free, make a run for it, but she was being held tight by invisible bonds.

"Do you recognize our guest, Severus."1 she heard the awful voice say.

Severus? Charity's eyes darted around the table where she saw several Death Eaters, most of whom were gazing up at her. She was slowly rotating, and as she came to face the firelight, she saw him and said in a cracked and terrified voice, "Severus! Help me!"2 It was proof of how desperate she'd become. How could she think Snape would help her when he was most likely the very one who'd handed her over to Voldemort?

"Ah, yes,"3 said Snape to Voldemort as she turned slowly away.

"And you, Draco?"4 said the lizard casually.

Charity's eyes flicked to the small figure which must have been Draco. She vaguely recognized him from around Hogwarts. He was shaking his head jerkily and didn't seem to be able to look directly at her.

"But you would not have taken her classes,"5 the lizard continued. "For those of you who do not know, we are joined here tonight by Charity Burbage who, until recently, taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Yes…Professor Burbage taught the children of witches and wizards all about Muggles…how they are not so different from us…"6

'How you are descended from one!' Charity wanted to shout, but it was simply beyond her capabilities at the moment. She revolved to face Snape again.

"Severus…please…please…"7 was all she could muster.

"Silence," said Voldemort, and Charity felt as if someone had suddenly jammed a large cork down her throat. "Not content with corrupting and polluting the minds of Wizarding children, last week Professor Burbage wrote an impassioned defense of Mudbloods in the Daily Prophet. Wizards, she says, must accept these thieves of their knowledge and magic. The dwindling of the purebloods is, says Professor Burbage, a most desirable circumstance…She would have us all mate with Muggles…or, no doubt, werewolves…"8 Werewolves? She'd never said anything about werewolves.

The room became deathly quiet as Voldemort's hate-filled voice inspired a muted awe, even among Death Eaters. Charity came in view of Snape again. Her final appeal was made in silence, looking straight into his eyes through her thick tears. Snape looked back with an unreadable expression while she turned slowly away, her last chance gone.

"Avada Kedavra," were the last words she heard before amazing flashes of green shot around the room and her world went dark.

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NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: This is not the final chapter (i.e. I am not pulling a Sopranos on you.) There is more of the story to tell. If you have any theories on what might happen in the next chapter, I'd love to hear them!

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1 Exact Quote from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, by J.K. Rowling p. 11

2 Ibid

3 Ibid

4 Ibid

5 Ibid

6 Ibid, p. 11,12

7 Ibid, p. 12

8 Ibid