For some reason, it was snowing. That is, only at Azkaban. It was October, the sun was mid-sky, and it was snowing. Of course, that made me freeze.

I didn't wear clothes for such an occasion as snow. I wore shorts - as it was seventy-eight degrees in London - and a three-quarter length sleeve shirt. George looked cold as well. Harry looked like he'd been here before and the cold didn't affect him.

"Alright, he's the seventeenth floor up. Amelia will show you guys up. I have rounds to do at the third floor."

"Dolohov can talk, right?" I asked Harry.

Harry nodded, although confused as to why I was here, with George of all people, and gestured for us to follow him.

The prison looked even deadlier from the shoreline. I could hear the sounds of chains and moans of people in pain. I set my jaw and clutched my wand in my hand, the other holding George's for warmth.

"I'll see you in an hour," Harry said, eying me a moment with worry before walking away.

Amelia Bones was in front of us instantly. The auror smiled at us and gestured for us to go ahead. "I'll get the door. You might want to dry yourselves off. It gets chilly up there."

I lifted my wand, but was already dry. I saw George smirking at me and run a hand through his dry hair. "Well, I don't need you sick now, do I? Then who'd make me dinner?"

I snorted, but thanked him before following Amelia up the steps. Thank god I wasn't out of shape because twenty minutes later, we were at floor seventeen.

"He's in cell fifty four D," Amelia stated. "Keep your wands in your pockets and don't get too close to the bars."

We nodded at the warning and began walking towards the cell she indicated. The Runes told me that there were only fifteen to go. I refused to look inside the cells, worrying I might see someone I knew in school. Or saw on the battlefield. Someone I put here.

"Here we are," George said. I only then looked in the cell. It was the size of a full sized bed, no larger, but perhaps smaller. A small vertical window allowed the chilly breeze in. I hugged my arms to myself to keep warm. The man was sitting on a pile of blankets, dirty, and mumbling to himself.

"Antonin Dolohov," I stated strongly. The person looked up sharply. Their mangy black hair clung to their dirty face. Fleas jumped around him. Disgusting. His eyes were glossy, but he still managed to laugh when he saw me.

"A years passed already?" his voice was hoarse, as if he had been coughing for weeks on end. "You look better than I expected. Not sick at all, lassie?"

"What did you do to me?" I asked him, careful no one overheard. None of the Aurors, that is.

He grinned, his cracked yellow teeth shining towards me, "Done to you? Why, I haven't touched the Gryffindor Princess. No, the Dark Lord would have rewarded me greatly if I had."

"What curse did you hit me with in that duel on Diagon Alley?" I rephrased.

George squeezed my hand as Dolohov drew closer. Before he could make it to the bars, the chains went stiff against the floor. He wasn't allowed a foot within the bars, good. His hands, though, still gripped the bars, as if to keep him up. He reeked.

"I didn't hit you with any spell. You're too good of a duelist. Too good for a Mudblood-"

"Answer her question," George growled.

Dolohov's eyes flickered to him before they went back to me. "I didn't hit you with a spell at Diagon Alley."

"Then do you know what's wrong with me."

"I do, Mudblood," Dolohov growled at me.

George shot him a glare, "Don't call her that-"

"George shut up for a second," I interrupted. I narrowed my eyes at Dolohov. "Tell me what it is."

"It's a curse, never used. Easier spoken than thought. Worse when its spoken. It would have killed you right away if you hadn't have shut me up, Mudblood!" Dolohov cried at me. George made a go for his wand, but I touched his shoulder, shaking my head before looking at Dolohov.

"The Ministry. The Battle at the Ministry, when Sirius Black died," I whispered. "Of course! What spell was that?"

"Why should I tell you?" Dolohov growled.

"Because," I said simply, "I'm the only thing stopping you from getting the Dementor's Kiss. Now tell me," I growled. "What spell was it and what's the counter-curse?"

"Polyviralkakova," he stated in fluent Russian.

"What does that mean?"

"Means whatever you want it to mean, sweetheart. It's just a spell Gregorovich created. Meant to kill when spoken. The power is weakened if thought. It'll kill you slowly and painfully."

"How do you reverse it?" I asked.

"You can't," Dolohov laughed.

I set my jaw, not letting him get to me, "Polyviralkakova is the curse," I said. "Which means that the counter-curse is Russian as well, yes?"

He growled, "There is no counter-curse, insufferable know-it-all Mudblood!"

I took a step forward so that my face was inches from the bars. "You listen to me, Dolohov. I don't care what it takes. I will make you even more miserable than you already are. Your Lord's dead. Which means you have no one left. Tell me, right now, how to stop it."

"How are your children, Mudblood?" he growled. "Beautiful?"

"It's only been four months, Dolohov," I spat, my anger mounting. "Now, I'll make it the worst eight months if you don't answer me."

"There's no counter-curse," he spat.

I narrowed my eyes at him, "What's the counter-potion?"

His eyes widened a fraction in surprise, but he masked it with anger, "If I knew that, would I tell you?"

I shot my hand out and grabbed his jumper collar, pressing him against the bars. I knew it was painful by the way he gasped. "I will make this hurt. Tell me now."

"Monoviralkakova," he gasped. "It's available in Knockturn Alley."

I smirked and let him go, causing him to fall to the floor, "You don't get between a mother lion and her cubs, Dolohov. Surely you know that by now. That's how your Lord fell the first time, that's how he fell in the end. Love is stronger than hate."

"What else do you want, Mudblood?" Dolohov wheezed from the floor before erupting into a coughing fit.

"If I take this potion, all of the side-effects of the spell are gone?" I asked, to make sure.

He coughed out his answer, "Most."

"What won't be?" George asked, gripping my wrist and pulling me backwards as Dolohov stood shakily.

"Her magic will still be weak," Dolohov wheezed again, his coughing subsiding for a moment.

"That's all? She won't be ill or die soon?" George asked.

"She'll even have your blood-traitor children, Weasel," Dolohov growled, stepping forward but getting caught by his chains.

I sighed in relief, "Thank you so much."

I took George's hand and began walking the way we came.

"Granger! You Mudblood bitch! How dare you walk away from me!" Dolohov shouted. "I wasn't finished with you!"

"Write it on paper and have it sent to me," I shouted, laughing. "You just saved a Mudblood's life!"

We met Amelia down on the first floor twenty minutes later. "Done?"

I nodded, "We'll be leaving. Thank you so much for letting us come here."

"What did you need to talk to him about, anyway?"

"A little damage control," George shrugged. "He shot some nasty spell onto the shop and no matter what Hermione tried, it wouldn't come off. We had to ask him what it was to get rid of it. I didn't want the shop to be cursed, you know? Too many ickle kids," George winked.

Amelia rolled her eyes, "Always your shop, Weasley. You two can go any time you'd like, which is probably right now." She laughed, shaking her head. "We hope to see you around, Hermione. The Aurors miss you."

"Thanks, Amelia. Tell them I miss you guys too," I said quietly.

We walked outside into the brisk wind and I whipped out my wand, "Knockturn Alley?"

George grinned at me, "Knockturn Alley."

We apparated away in seconds, me feeling more relieved than when we got here. I had answers.

Love me again? No? Alright, well next chapters good, promise! review!

-Nastya