For the Potions Master's Amusement

Chapter 66: Sacrifice

Hermione arrived in the linen cupboard on t's floor at St Mungo's where once, not so long ago, she had hidden and cried. On that occasion, the memory of Rafe Lestrange's hands on her body—a ruse to divert his brothers' attention, certainly, but distasteful to Hermione, nonetheless—had her tied up in knots of distress, but now, she was all business. She murmured a spell to make the cupboard wall transparent to her, and seeing no one about, she slipped out.

The area was quiet; Hermione could hear no voices. Of course, visiting hours were over, so only the Healers and their helpers were likely to be traversing the corridors. Creeping along stealthily, Hermione paused outside the door to Taffy's room. She did not wish to alarm her friend by bouncing in and inquiring after the Death Eaters, so she cast again and peered through the wall. Taffy was alone in her room, her head turned to one side and eyes closed—she was sleeping.

Hermione cast a Disillusionment Spell and paced down the corridor, her brow furrowed. How had Severus managed to get a message to Pitty? How had the message been delivered? Why had he not sent word directly to Hermione?

And where were the Death Eaters?

Having reached the corridor's end without seeing anything unusual, Hermione heard a whirring sound and realised the lift was moving. Ducking around a corner, she watched the lift doors open, and Nymphadora Tonks bounded out and began to run lightly down the way from whence Hermione had just come.

'Tonks!'

Hermione dropped the Disillusionment Spell just as her friend spun around, dark eyes wide in her heart-shaped face, her wand trained expertly on Hermione.

'Merlin's balls, Hermione!' Tonks exclaimed, pressing a hand to the middle of her chest. ''Bout gave me a heart attack!'

'Sorry,' Hermione said. 'But Tonks—why are you here?'

The pink-haired witch shoved her wand back up her sleeve and surveyed Hermione with narrowed eyes. 'I could ask you the same thing,' she said. 'Shouldn't you be with your parents?'

Hermione thought quickly, trying to formulate a likely lie, but Tonks glanced anxiously over her shoulder then. 'Look,' she said distractedly, 'you can walk with me if you want to talk, all right?'

Hermione fell into step beside Tonks. 'Are you on duty?' she asked.

'No,' Tonks said, speaking very softly. 'Dumbledore sent me—someone close to one of the spies is here, and the Headmaster wanted protection on hand tonight. Did he send you, too?'

'Why tonight?' Hermione asked, a new disquiet beginning to stir.

Tonks looked all around again, as if to make sure they were not being spied on. 'He didn't tell me, but I think Harry is making his move tonight.'

Hermione darted around and grabbed Tonks' hands. 'Where? Where are they?'

Tonks made a moue of sympathy. 'I knew you'd hate being away from the boys all this time,' she said. 'But they've had a pretty miserable time—you're better off out of it, believe me.'

Hermione fought down the rising tide of panic she felt. 'Tonks!' she said firmly. 'Please, tell me where they are.'

Tonks shrugged and looked sincerely regretful. 'I don't know,' she admitted. 'The Headmaster only tells us what he thinks we need to know—he tells Remus different things than he tells me, even—so I've not been included on the bits about what Harry and Ron are doing. All I know is that it's some kind of really old spell …'

Hermione pulled away from her impatiently. 'Are you here to look after Rafe Lestrange's wife?' she demanded.

Tonks' mouth dropped open. 'The Headmaster did send you!' she said indignantly. 'Why would he ask both of us to come? Doesn't he think I can manage one little pregnant witch by myself?'

Hermione spoke quickly. 'No, Dumbledore didn't send me,' she said. 'I … I've just been looking for Harry and Ron. Can you tell me anything that might help me find them?'

Tonks shook her head. 'No—and you don't need to go looking for them, either. Think! You might interrupt them in the middle of something vital. Leave it alone, Hermione.'

Hermione backed two steps away. 'You're probably right,' she said, her mind racing independently of her moving lips. 'I'll just go back home …'

Tonks obviously mistrusted her words, for she stepped forward with one hand out-stretched. 'Don't do whatever it is you're thinking!' she implored, but Hermione had already turned on the spot and Disapparated.


Reg and Kell stood just inside the doorway of the large receiving room, where a few nights before they had danced together. Now, they were scarcely a pace apart, their faces flushed with anger, and they shouted their anger, confusion, and disappointment at one another, too fearful to speak the words they really wanted to say.

They were so focussed on one another, they did not hear the intruders who sauntered insolently to the doorway and paused to watch them as if they were actors on a stage, there for the amusement of the black-cloaked strangers.

'Stupefy!' Simon Curtis cried, his slurred voice showing he had imbibed freely that night, and Reggie Bardulph fell to the floor.

'Incarcerous,' one of the masked men said in a bored tone, and ropes shot out of his wand to bind Reg.

Kell whirled to face the intruders. 'You!' she cried furiously, recognising Simon, and she reached for her wand.

'Crucio!' the largest of the masked duo cried, laughing as Kell doubled over, screaming.

'Stop!' Simon cried, turning a horrified face to his companions, his sharp exhalation of breath stinking of Firewhisky. 'Stop, Greg! That's an Unforgiveable, it is!'

Gregory Goyle gave one last vicious jab of his wand and turned from Kell's unconscious body. 'Where're these other blokes?' he demanded, kicking out at Reg's booted feet. 'The ones who like to tie up their witches and torture them?'

Vincent Crabbe looked about. 'We'll show 'em a spot of torture,' he said. 'Where are they?'

Simon was staring down at Reg and Kell, paying no attention to his companions, but Crabbe closed a meaty fist around Simon's arm and squeezed.

'Geroff!' Simon shouted, trying to jerk away from Crabbe, but Goyle stepped up and took his other arm.

'You said we could show these Muggle-lovers a thing or two,' Crabbe reminded Simon.

'I didn't know you were going to use Unforgiveables!' Simon cried, and his fear was evident, even to his thick companions. 'You hurt her!'

There was a sound from down the long marble hall, and Simon's head jerked around. 'They're down there,' he said feebly, 'in the Dominants' Study.'

'Poncy wankers,' Crabbe muttered, and he shoved Simon roughly forward, he and Goyle following closely, their wands at his back.

Silver-haired Hadrian Hunter and the taller, younger Master Claudius appeared. Each of them wore expressions of disquiet, and when they saw the intruders, they slowed to a stop and drew closer to one another, as if to bar deeper access into the house.

'Curtis,' Hadrian said, speaking to Simon, 'you were told you are no longer welcome in this house. Why have you come?'

But Crabbe gave Simon a poke in the back. 'Are these the blokes?' he demanded. 'The torturing ones?'

'Run, Master Hadrian!' Simon screamed, no longer sounding drunk or petulant—projecting nothing but abject terror. 'This lot are Death Eaters!'

'Shut it, you!' Crabbe snarled, cuffing Simon with a fist, but Goyle had better methods of controlling recalcitrant recruits.

'Avada Kedavra!'

And Simon Curtis, whose sins included over-fondness for drink and poor choice of companions, but who had tried to do the right thing in the end, paid for his stupidity with his life.

The blond wizard drew his wand, stepping forward, his eyes on the living predators, rather than their dead victim. 'I'll hold them, Hadrian,' he said coldly, and the older man set off down the hallway at a run.

Two jets of red light shot toward Claudius, but his Protego! blocked the spells, and a duel ensued, the two remaining intruders versus the wizard protecting his home and his family.

Had Claudius been less desperate, or had his younger opponents been less the worse for drink, matters might have gone ill for him. As it was, he was holding his own against the Death Eaters when Hadrian called to him from the Dungeon doorway.

'All clear, Claudius!'

And gathering all his power and skill, Claudius cast one last spell.

'Confringo!'

The spell hit the marble floor with a great, concussive roar, knocking the Death Eaters from their feet and pulverizing the white Italian marble, as well as the wood beneath it, creating a crater in the middle of the elegant hallway. Claudius had already begun the run to the Dungeon door, and the blast knocked him from his feet, speeding him closer to his goal.

Hadrian darted from the Dungeon door, which remained held open by Pitty, and helped his friend to his feet.

'Elinore and Vi are below with the servants,' Hadrian said, all but carrying Claudius to the doorway. 'Pitty sent Hermione away when the Death Eaters came through the door. You fought like a soldier, my friend.'

'What of Kelly and Reg?' Claudius croaked, attempting to look back down the long hallway.

'On their own,' Hadrian said, pulling Claudius through the doorway, and Pitty allowed the heavy door to slam shut behind them. 'Don't fret—Reg knows how to use his wand.'

Claudius managed a grin, though he was covered with marble dust and blood from flying marble pieces. 'Kelly can duel, as well,' he said. 'They'll find out how well, if they don't kill her first.'

'Darling!'

Vi rushed up the steps, and Claudius received her with rare tenderness. 'Don't fret, precious—I am well.'

And with Hadrian and Pitty shepherding them from behind, Vi led her Master down to the anxiously waiting Elinore.


Kell lay upon the floor of the large receiving room, hearing the sounds of duelling from farther down the corridor and feeling as if her muscles had been rendered to jelly. The echo of the excruciating pain of the Cruciatus Curse remained in her consciousness, but she ignored it, and gritting her teeth, she pushed herself shakily into a sitting position.

'Kay?'

She turned her head and saw Reg lying a few feet from her, struggling against his bindings even as he spoke to her.

'Are you all right?' he asked. 'Do you think you could help me out? The others are in danger.'

And Kell's mind slammed into working order. Death Eaters and Simon Curtis were in the house! Curtis, that filthy, lying toad, had used his entrée to Roissy House to bring Death Eaters here! And her friends had no idea—Elinore, Vi, Hermione—she had to help them!

Scrambling ungracefully across the floor, she fumbled uselessly at Reg's ropes, her fingers clumsy against the knots.

'Cut them with your wand, love,' Reggie murmured, and Kell paused a moment to look into his eyes, her hands stilled. 'You can do it,' he assured her soothingly.

Kell reached across the floor to retrieve her fallen wand. 'Of course I can,' she said. 'Now, don't move a muscle …'

Reg shook the ropes from his limbs, the acrid smell of their burned hemp fibres sharp in his nose, and offered his hand to Kell. She clasped it and he pulled her to her feet. 'You know how to use that thing to fight, don't you?' he asked, nodding to the length of holly in her hand.

'Yes,' Kell replied, her fear for her friends overcoming her fear of the intruders. 'Let's go!'

Reg's lips twisted and he kissed her roughly. 'You're one in a million, Kay,' he murmured in her ear, and then the two of them ran into the broad marble corridor, wands at the ready.


Hermione arrived back in her room at Roissy House and stood for a moment in an effort to quiet her shaking hands. Something was off, but she didn't know what it was. Why had Severus sent her to the hospital if Dumbledore was also sending Tonks? She had to find Pitty, to question her.

'Pitty!' she called, but the house-elf did not pop into the room. What could keep Pitty from responding?

Oh yes, something was definitely wrong.

Moving stealthily, Hermione crept into the hallway and to the head of the stairs, but she could hear nothing. Following an instinct she did not question, she turned aside and traversed the hallway in the other direction, moving to the head of the grand staircase, down which her Master had paraded her on that Dungeon night that seemed so long ago. Pausing only long enough to Disillusion herself for the second time that night, Hermione crept down the stairway until the flashes of bright light and sounds of scuffling feet told her there was fighting going forward downstairs. Without another thought, she ran down to the landing.

Two hooded Death Eaters, their cloaks liberally dusted with inexplicable white powder, duelled below, back to back, each of them engaged with one opponent. Hermione could see the one nearest her was Reg, his curly hair damp with sweat—but it was the other duellist who frightened Hermione. Kell was quick, her bright blue eyes burning with intensity, but it was obvious that her strength was waning. How long had they been fighting? And how long could one fight without tiring? Hermione's only experience with real duelling had come two years before, in the Department of Mysteries, and then it seemed as if she had spent more time trying to run away from the Death Eaters than attempting to engage them in hand to hand combat. In the end, she had been incapacitated by one quick spell, and her reward had been to lie in the Hospital Wing for two weeks, listening to Ronald brag and swallowing nasty potions.

She wanted desperately to take out Kell's opponent, but Reg was between Hermione and her desired target. She could Petrify Reg's adversary, but once she did, she would lose the advantage of surprise. She wracked her brain for another alternative, for a spell which would immobilise both of the Death Eaters at once, but nothing occurred to her. And even in the few seconds it took for her thoughts to stream through her mind, she could see Kell falter, barely getting her guard up to shield against the virulent red of the attacker's Unforgiveable cry of Crucio!.

With her heart in her throat, Hermione reacted on instinct, flying down the remaining stairs and past Reg and his masked assailant. She stopped, breathless, and raised her wand. With a non-verbal Petrificus Totalus! she brought the heavy-set Death Eater fighting with Kell crashing to the floor, then she whirled to the other one and put up a Shield Charm.

Just as she had expected, the jet of light from her Full Body Bind Spell had attracted the attention of the other Death Eater, and he spun away from Reg. Yet the Death Eater's searching glance seemed to glide right past where Hermione stood as he pivoted and directed his attention to Kell.

'Sectumsepra!' he cried, slashing at the girl before she could raise her defence, his wand tracing an angle from just beneath Kell's right ear to her left hipbone.

Hermione stared in wordless horror as blood erupted from Kell's torn throat, bright red jets which seemed to spurt with every beat of her heart. Time appeared to slow, and Hermione was frozen with the gruesomeness of what she was seeing. A cold, analytical part of her mind reported that Kell's carotid artery had been severed, and that she was bleeding to death.

Hermione stumbled forward, her Disillusionment Spell falling as all of her attention was diverted from it. As she came to rest beside Kell's head, she conjured a square of white cloth. She was scarcely aware of Reg felling the remaining Death Eater and binding and gagging them both, and then he was on his knees on the other side of Kell's body, agony on his face.

'Kay,' he said, 'speak to me. Kay!'

Hermione applied pressure at Kell's throat and nodded tersely at the less grievous but still gushing wound bisecting her torso. 'Conjure cloth!' she snapped. 'Apply pressure!'

Reg was crying, harsh, wracking sobs, but even so, he obeyed Hermione's commands, the white cloth beneath his hands almost immediately becoming saturated with dark red blood.

'I'm sorry, baby, so sorry,' Reg sobbed. 'I love you. Don't leave me. I swear I'll get better.' He pressed harder on her midsection, one hand atop the other. 'I was weak and wrong—it was all me. You're a good girl. Don't go.'

There was commotion from either direction, and Vi raced down the grand staircase with Claudius behind her, while Hadrian approached from down the corridor. There was a confused babble of voices, and lengths of clean white cloth materialised, handed to Hermione and Reg and applied over the top of the sopping bandages already in place.

'She needs St Mungo's,' Claudius said, standing behind Vi, who had knelt in the gore at Kell's head and begun the singing chant Hermione had used on Severus' wounds.

'We have to control the bleeding before we move her!' Hermione said, accepting another cloth from Hadrian and pressing it down.

'Don't leave me, Kay,' Reggie croaked. His crying had subsided to ragged breathing, his voice ravaged by the shredding sobs which had issued from his throat. 'I'll train with Hadrian—he's already agreed, baby. I'll learn to be the Master you deserve.' He leaned up, his hands still pressing on the gory dressing on Kell's stomach, and he kissed her blood-stained cheek. 'I'll never send you away again. I swear it.'

Vi stopped singing, and unmindful of the horrible, slick coating of blood on Kell's neck, she pressed fingers to the undamaged side. After a few seconds, she raised her wand and cast a spell. When she spoke, it was in a choked voice.

'She bled out. She's gone.'

And as Reg keened over his fallen love, entreating her not to leave him, Hermione sat back and cast the same spell Vi had used, checking Kell's vital signs. It was true; Kell no longer had a heartbeat. She had bled too copiously and too quickly for them to stop it.

Kell was dead.