A/N: Yes, yes I am on a roll, aren't I? ;) I'm really loving all the reviews, guys! Honestly, they're EXTREMELY appreciated! Let me know if you catch any grammar mistakes, mispellings, etc. I wrote this chapter in quite a rush!
Disclaimer: Familiar content owned by J.K Rowling
Chapter Eight—Heraklion
The scale tipped back, the raised end glowing bright blue. Hermione watched absently, her fingers idly toying with the loose strings of her sweater. The boys were gathered around the table, watching, focused, as he added another droplet of Tom's blood into the measuring bowl.
"You aren't going to have to take anymore, are you?" Hermione asked worriedly. Tom already seemed a few shades paler, and when he stood, his movements seemed wobbly, as if he did not have complete control over his limbs.
"I might," Zelos murmured. "When the raised end glows red, it's ready. It looks like it has a few more shades to go before it gets there." And he was right. The scale glowed a pale violet, and Hermione's stomach clenched as Zelos moved the needle towards Tom's arm once more, noting how the dark-haired boy's jaw clenched.
"And….there!" Hermione stood, moving towards the table, trying to wedge her way between the boys. The scale was glowing a vivid blood red, and she could almost feel the magic it was emitting. "Quickly now, install the compass." Harry immediately obeyed, taking the compass from the counter behind them and clicking it into place. The magic was definitely pulsing from the scale now. She could almost feel a ripple in the air as they all waited with baited breath, watching the needles of the compass spin rapidly, faster than any of their eyes could follow.
Suddenly, it froze, the needle aiming directly between the notches that represented North and North-West. Hermione's breath seemed to catch in her throat. "Get a map," she told Zelos. "Quickly." He left the room, only to return minutes later with a fairly large world map. He handed it to Hermione, and she spread it out on the table, taking the quill from his hand and marking their position.
"Here we are," she told them, pointing to the dot, under which read Alexandria. "The compass is pointing a little less than North-west, which points to all these countries here, meaning that our man could either be in Greece—" she circled it on the map. "Bulgaria—Serbia—Croatia—Hungary—Romania—"
"That's too many," Ron said, shaking his head. "There's absolutely no way we could cover even half of those in the time that we have—"
"Wait," Zelos said, disappearing behind the counter, and they could hear him shuffling through the draws. He reappeared after a few moments, holding an aged slip of parchment. "I've had this scale since I took over the shop—and my father before me. After studying it's characteristics for quite some time, he developed this chart." He aligned the chart with the scale, pointing to several coloured dots on the chart and describing them. "Each shade, he told me, represents a distance. Say it was a light, terra cotta red—that would mean that the medallion was further away, like up here—" he crossed out a few of the Northern countries that Hermione had circled: Hungary, Croatia, Serbia. "Whereas if it were, say, crimson, then we could narrow it down to Bulgaria. However, because it's such a vivid shade of red, like here—" he pointed at the circle at the top of the chart. "Really, the only option is—"
"Greece," Hermione finished, looking slightly surprised. "What in Sam-heck is he doing there?"
Tom raised his eyebrows. "Think logically, Macmillan. Which two countries are, by far, the world's most predominant producers of dark witches and wizards?"
Hermione blinked. "Oh. So he's recruiting?"
"Maybe—or looking for something, like us." Tom said before turning to Zelos. "So, it isn't any more specific than what country it is? We just have to search throughout Greece?"
"Yes, Zelos said, snapping the compass out of the compartment and slipping it into his robes. "But I can tell you know that, like here, most of the dark artifacts will be closer to the sea than inland—much easier to transport that way. And Greece actually has an extremely overwhelming population of witches and wizards, so it shouldn't be too hard to find someone who will point you in the right direction."
He paused for a moment, looking at the four of them. "I know that your stay here has been a pleasant one, but if you were to journey down to Cairo, those wizards running the dark arts shops would not be quite so friendly. The same can be said for your journey to Greece. I suggest you tread carefully."
"Thank you," Hermione said honestly. "You have no idea how much this has helped us. I—"
"We should go," Tom said, suddenly hurried. "If he's in Greece, he might not be there long, and he could be moving fast, so we'd have no means to follow him. We can't waste any more time."
The four of them bid their adieus to Zelos, thanking him profusely for him help, and hurried out of the shop, away from the alley, through the wall, and back into the brightly lit streets of Alexandria. "Merlin, that helped," Ron remarked. "Do you think we can fly to Greece fast enough to catch the bloke?"
"I dunno," Tom said, his face distorted in a frown. "It'll be much shorter than the flight was from England to here, but I'm worried that if we don't find him in time, we might lose track of him for good."
"Maybe if we had stayed a bit longer, we could have convinced him to loan us the scale," Hermione said.
"Yes, well, considering the fact that none of us could bear sitting there and watching you flirt with him for another moment, I'd say that's a terrible idea."
Harry, Ron and Hermione's eyes all swiveled to Riddle, who was looking forward, but his mouth was now set in a cold sneer. "Excuse me?" Hermione hissed, looking infuriated. "I—flirting with him? I was using our only chance of getting help! Excuse me for actually wanting to find the stupid medallion—"
"Right and I wonder why he agreed so quickly," Riddle said sharply. "Promised him the night of his life if he did?"
Hermione froze, her eyes zeroing in on Riddle's enraged face with disbelief. "What is your problem?" She stared into his eyes, watching as flickers of emotion crossed through his expression, before she caught one in particular.
"Oh. Merlin," she said, letting out a loud snort. Without another word, she whirled about, stomping off in the direction of where they had left their brooms, although most of the anger seemed to be gone from her face, and was replaced with amusement. The boys followed her after a moment, baffled as to what had gotten into her.
The broom ride to Greece was a relatively awkward one. Tom and Hermione sat in silence, neither of them wanting to address what had happened. But after nearly two hours of this, Hermione could not help but taunt him a little bit.
"You know, if I had realized that you would get so jealous, I wouldn't have paid so much attention to him," she whispered, her chin brushing against his shoulder. She felt his entire body tense beneath her arms, and, from her point of view, she could see the muscles in his jaw working as he clenched and unclenched it.
"I—I was not jealous. I was merely pointing out that your antics could be interpreted as slaggish, if observed by the wrong person." She let out a short laugh, tightening her arms around him waist as they dipped into a deep dive to avoid a rather precarious-looking raincloud.
"Right, well I'll be sure not to offend you with my slaggish antics any more, especially not in the presence of men who could be potentially better looking than you." He turned his head slightingly, his eyes meeting hers over his shoulder, and Hermione was surprised to see a bit of insecurity in his gaze, despite the coldness that he was trying so desperately to cover it up with. "Tom," she told him in an honest tone, meeting his eyes directly. "I'm kidding. Mr. Armadei was not better looking than you."
The moment was broken as he snorted, facing forward again with a juvenile sort of smirk. "I know he wasn't. You think I'm unaware of the fact that I'm dazzling handsome?"
"Well, I dunno," Hermione said, pretending to look thoughtful. "You've yet to dazzle me."
He turned back to her again, the smirk gone this time, and stared at her very seriously, his mouth drawn into a straight line. His eyes seemed to look right into her soul as he stared at her, tracing a hand down the side of her neck, brushing it along her jaw line—Hermione felt her breathing quicken and unconsciously, her gaze flickered down to his lips—
—Those lips that were now smirking triumphantly at her. Her gaze flew back up to his eyes, which seemed to be mocking her. "Haven't I, though?" He turned back around, and Hermione stared at his back.
Hasn't he—what? What was he talking about—oh!
She felt her face heat up and she glared at the back of his head, suddenly feeling the childish urge to bite him on the shoulder.
"Don't pout, Macmillan," he called back to her over the wind, as if he had known what she was thinking. "It isn't becoming."
Hermione did not speak to him for the rest of the trip.
"It would be only logical that we check Athens first," Harry said for nearly the sixth time as they trudged down the streets, staring at yet another building looming from the grim. They had gone into nearly every shop in the healthily populated wizarding area, and not a single person had come in contact with the medallion. Sure, many of them had heard of it, seen pictures of it, but no one had any first-hand experience.
"I don't think he's here, guys," Hermione said, peering into the dark windows. "We could check a few more shops, but I just have a feeling that….that he's not here."
"Well, where else would he be?" Ron snapped, looking agitated. "That bald man back there informed us that Athens was the largest mainland port—"
"What about off the mainland?" Hermione suggested suddenly. "He mentioned a port in Heraklion, didn't he? Why don't we check there?"
Ron groaned. "Oh, Mione, that's another overseas flight! If I see another meter of ocean, I might vomit."
Harry snorted. "You better get you're barf-bag ready then, Ronnikins, because Hermione seems quite adamant."
It was nearly dark when they arrived in Heraklion, and, after determining that the majority of the shops were closed, the group decided to check in at the nearest magical inn. Hermione and Tom sat idly at a table while Harry and Ron paid the man at the counter.
"Do you know what you're doing?" Tom asked her suddenly, and she blinked at him in surprise. He had been broodingly quiet all day; she had yet to hear a word out of him until now. Her gaze dropped to the table top, drumming her fingers against the wood.
"I—I've got this strange feeling….like—"
"No, no, no—you do not understand! I need to leave—tonight! I cannot vaste anymore of my time!"
Hermione and Tom both froze, neither of them daring to breathe, but both of their ears cocked in the direction that the voice was coming from.
The man that he was speaking to gave a quick, rapid reply in German, and whatever he said must've frustrated his companion greatly, because he slammed his fist down on the table, leaning forward so that they were nose to nose.
"You cannot argue vith me! My master—he needs ze box by tonight! If zat vand is not in safe hands, my master vill have no vere to go—no way to fight! And if Dumbledore gets involved….vell, zat cannot be ze best for eizer party, now can it?"
"So, we're just down the hall—" Harry appeared at Hermione's shoulder, and both she and Tom shushed him, glaring at him fiercely in a warning way. "What?" Tom inclined his head towards the man sitting a few tables over, who was cursing at his companion. "Oh, Merlin," Harry lowered his voice, sinking into the chair beside Hermione. "So you think that's our man?"
"We can't be certain," Ron argued quietly. "I mean, there could be quite a few German men in Greece—"
"We'll just have to follow him, then." Hermione said, still watching the man from the corner of her eye.
Harry looked slightly put out. "So, what you're saying is that I just bought a room for nothing?"
No one bothered to answer him. The four of them sat in silence, trying valiantly not to glance at the man every thirty-seconds. After a few minutes of this, Tom hissed, "We're being too suspicious. Act natural."
There was a beat, and then Ron leaned towards Harry, saying in carrying voice, "D'you see that match last Saturday? Between Bulgaria and Ireland?"
Harry snorted, leaning back in his chair and feigning a yawn "I don't care what you say, mate, McDowell's got a leg up on Polakoff anyday."
"Sure he does," Ron sneered, and Hermione wondered, for a moment, that if they put as much effort into their schoolwork as they did into their acting at the moment, if they'd have her beat out on the exams. "But McDowell's only one player; it doesn't do any good having one good member if the rest of your team is slower than dragon dung."
Hermione rolled her eyes, zoning out of their conversation, but her mind snapped immediately back to the present when Tom's arm looped around the back of her chair and he leaned into her, his head dipping so he could whisper into her ear: "He looks very suspicious; he seems to realize that he was talking a bit loud, a few moments ago. He keeps looking at us."
She glanced up, and found his piercing blue eyes on her, and quickly looked away again. She saw Tom's jaw tense, and immediately knew she had made a mistake. "Don't look at him," Tom commanded in her ear. "He's going to apparate away if we aren't careful, and that cannot happen. Pretend I said something ridiculous." She didn't think, she just rolled her eyes, hitting his hand, which had make its way into her curls, away. He smiled, leaning into her again, and she subconsciously reached out a hand and let it rest on his thigh. It felt natural—it was something a couple would do, right? He clasped her hand in his, intertwining their fingers.
"Think we have him convinced yet?" Tom murmured, pressing his lips against her temple.
"I dunno, but look at Harry and Ron," Hermione giggled. She watched Tom glance over at the two other boys, whose faces were in similar expression of shock. She felt Tom send a swift kick under the table at them, and then both resumed their conversation.
"Idiots," Tom whispered, shaking his head slightly, but smiling as Hermione laughed liltingly. "Blush."
Why was it so easy? How come it was so simple for her face to heat up, to shift her eyes to the ground and quirk her lips upward into a modest little smile?
Because it didn't matter that they were acting—it didn't matter that all they were doing was trying to convince a middle-aged man that there was nothing suspicious about a bunch of teenagers sitting in a pub when they should be in school. All that mattered was that her brain was having a very hard time separating the tender look in his eyes, the gentle way his thumb stroked circles on her hand, from the fact that this was not real.
"C'mon," Tom murmured, and Hermione snapped out of her daze, noting immediately that the German man had stood and was now at the counter paying for his drink, along with his companion. They waited until the two men left the building, and then stood to follow. Once they were outside, they moved warily, studying the man's back as he walked down the street, towards a sign that read something that none of them could interpret. "We've got to stay close enough that we can grab him if he apparates, but far enough that he won't notice."
"I've got a better idea," said Harry, and he withdrew his invisibility cloak from his robes. Hermione hadn't even realized he had brought it. "You two go under this and follow him, close enough to grab him if he apparates. Ron and I will follow further back. He should be as suspicious if he seems the two of us behind him, because we had our backs to him in the pub, whereas the two of you were facing him."
"Harry," Hermione said suddenly, pulling Tom to a stop as he moved to grab the invisibility cloak and slip under it. "What happens if he does apparate, and Tom and I grab him. We'll be separated."
Harry stared at her for a moment. "Then at least the two of you will have him. But, you're right. We'll have a meeting place. If he does apparate, we'll meet you two in—"
"In Paris, at the Eiffel Tower!" Hermione said quickly, noticing the man was getting further and further away from them. "France is at least bordering Germany, which is where I assume he'd be apparating, and you can't miss it! Be safe!" Was her last command before Tom dragged her under the cloak and hurried to catch up with him.
"Talk about paranoid," Tom breathed, after the German man had looked behind him for an eleventh time. "You don't think he knows we're here, do you?" Hermione did not immediately register what Tom had said. Her eyes were glued to the prominent bulge that could be seen at the front of the man's shirt.
"No," Hermione she answered after a moment. "This cloak is infallible."
The man reached the end of the street, and Hermione felt her stomach clench in anticipation. This was it, either they'd have to grab him last minute or—
Suddenly, the man whirled, pointing his wand in Harry and Ron's direction, who were about twenty feet away. He cast a spell it German, and Hermione watched as the light hurled in their direction. Harry brought a shield up in the last moment, and deflected it quickly, both of the boys now drawing their wands. Hermione made to remove the cloak, but Tom stopped her. "Just wait," he whispered, his wand drawn. "If the two of them can handle him, then we won't have to reveal ourselves."
Although there were two of them, it became fairly clean in a matter of minutes that this man was a very capable wizard. He dueled vehemently, as if his life depended on it, and she wondered just how high in Grindelwald's ranks he was.
Seeming to sense an opportunity, Tom lifted the cloak, just enough to get his wand out, and muttered, "Stupefy."
The man, not expecting the spell, was knocked backwards, his wand flying out of his hand, and Harry quickly summoned. "Hurry, take him into the alley, where we can't be seen." Tom levitated him into the alley, leaning him up against a dumpster. Harry moved to wake him up, but Tom hissed, "Wait! Immobulus."
"Ennervate." The man's eyes rapidly flew open, and he started to curse at them, spit flying from his mouth. His eyes flitted over to his wand, which was in Harry's hand, and he promptly froze.
"We need to ask you a few questions," Harry started, pointing his wand at the man's chest. "Starting with that there, around your neck."
He glared up at them, the hatred in his eyes so plain and intense that it was almost frightening. "I vill not speak. You cannot make you. You are just children, trying to play like adults. But you vill soon learn zat ze adult vorld can come vith more pain zan you vould care to imagine. "
"We don't have time for your petty threats," Harry said coldly, reaching down and ripping the medallion from his neck. "Where did you get this, and why do you have it? And don't feed me any lies—I can do a Cruciatus just as well as the next man."
Hermione saw a momentary flash of fear in the man's eyes. "It belongs to my master. I vas holding it for safe-keeping. He trusts me, you see. I purchased ze medallion at a—"
Before the man could say another word, his body started to tremble violently, and blood trickled from the corners of his mouth. Hermione watched, horrified, as his eyes rolled backwards in his head. Was he having a seizure? His eyelids were twitching, and he seemed to have no control over his limbs—
—And then he laid perfectly still, his eyes half-lidded and mouth hanging open, blood still oozing from between his lips. Hermione could hear her own breathing, but she didn't seem to be able to slow it down.
"Is—is he dead?" she whimpered, horrified.
Tom ran a hand over his cold face. "It was a curse. Whatever he was about to tell us, apparently his master didn't want us to know."
The four of them stood in silence for a moment, just staring down at the man, before Ron said, "Well, at least we've got the medallion—"
All of a sudden, the air around them seemed to explode. Curses were flying over their heads, and Hermione dove to the ground, feeling Tom's shield expand to surround the four of them. All too soon, though, it shattered and then were once again under attack—there were simply too many of them. Hermione could hardly see through all of the dust, but as three of their attackers came into view, she noticed that they all wore the same dark robes, with the same insignia in the top right-hand corner—Grindelwald's insignia.
"Harry!" Hermione screamed at the dark-haired boy, who was casting violently at Grindelwald's men, his face contorted with pure rage. "Ron! Tom!" The three of them moved towards her, Harry and Tom casting shields strong enough to hold the men off, even just for a moment, and then both simultaneously reached for Hermione. Ron grasped Harry's arm, and—
She felt the familiar sensation of having all the air in her lungs promptly sucked out, before the four of them landed with a splash in the water. She coughed as she inhaled a lungful of water, her eyes squinting shut, kicking furiously. She heard the boys coughing and spluttering on either side of her, and she grabbed both of their arms and started to drag them towards the shore. She could see Tom ahead of them, his dark hair sopping wet.
When they finally scrambled up onto shore, Ron rounded on her, his clothes dripping and blue eyes narrowed dangerously. "What the bloody hell were you thinking, Hermione! You just apparated us into the ruddy ocean—"
"Actually, it's the English Channel, Ronald," Hermione snapped, rolling her eyes and slipping off her jacket to ring it out.
"—We could've drowned! Do you think you honestly just did us any good, when—"
"She just saved your ruddy, life, Hurst, so I suggest you shut your useless trap!" Riddle snarled, and Ronald's mouth promptly closed, staring at him in shock. Not waiting for the boy to respond, Riddle trudged forward, muttering, "C'mon" to Hermione as he passed her, and she hurried to follow him.
They walked in silence, no one willing to address what had just happened. Finally Harry, dodging the splashes of water that flew from the ends of Tom's hair as he shook it out, fell into step with Hermione, and asked gently, "Where are we anyway, love?" She smiled softly, appreciating the fact that he was trying to make up for Ron's rudeness.
"Le Havre," she answered. "—About one hundred and twenty miles from Paris." She glanced apologetically at the three of them. "It was the first place I thought of. I figured, since it was close to Germany, and I'd been here before, so I thought I could do it without anyone getting splinched—"
"It's absolutely fine, Hermione," Tom told her, patting her shoulder comfortingly. She frowned slightly as they continued to walk. She wondered what had happened so drastically in their months here that it would be Ron she was fighting with and Tom who was comforting her. "There is something we need to discuss though." From his robes, he withdrew the medallion, which was glistening strangely against the palm of his hand. "We've got the medallion. We have our proof here that there were means of getting into Hogwarts, but—"
"But you feel as though the evidence isn't enough," Hermione finished for him, and he nodded slowly. "I think—I think we need to go to Germany. We've found the medallion, sure, but without proof that whoever was using it was an accomplice of Grindelwald, the Ministry will never take our word for it."
"First, however," Tom interrupted, "We must find out where Grindelwald's headquarters are." He glanced down at his watch, and then up towards the street signs, which were written in French, and then translated below in English. "And I think I know just the person we need."
A/N: Ah! I think we're actually-kind-of-sort-of-maybe-not-really-semi-near the end! I really am enjoying writing a story where the characters actually go places and do exciting things! I kind of like writing for the mystery genre, it's fun! Thanks so much again for the continued support, and I'll remind you pretty please not to flame:)
Lots of love!