A/N: In spite of being awash not only in her local rainy season (which is seriously rainy this year), but in epic proportions with Real Life, Christina Teresa, my ever-faithful beta, has returned this chapter quite brilliantly beta-read and should be quite soundly thanked. Hopefully, Seakays can return to beta as soon as Real Life quits picking on her. (Best wishes for all to go well, Seakays!). To my lovely and patient readers – thank you one and all because you are one lovely, patient, and persistent group to have stuck with me this far, this long, and this steadfastly! Special thanks go to reviewers rgluvr13, scooterrg, Mist, and Radish Earrings, who were kind enough to take their time to review and let me know that they're enjoying and think I'm headed in the right direction. That helps us writers lots, you know! Hope you enjoy our final wind-up to the climax!
NZ
Chapter 24
Hidden in Plain Sight
Chapter 23 Summary:
Arabella Figg reports to Alastor Moody that while she and Dung were on duty, they 'lost' Harry for a while, then found he was sick and holed up in his room at the Dursley's.
Now inside Hermione's quarters, Ron assumes the plan is still on for him and Hermione to leave for home at midnight, while Hermione has no intention of going. Ron says he's leaving anyway, but in the end realizes he can't do it. While he sulks, Hermione tells him it was him who healed the extreme loneliness she felt before he came. Thinking he was dreaming, he pulls her to him and kisses her long and hard, then panics when he realizes it isn't a dream. They argue, but in the midst of it, they hear the wards popping and realize the ruckus is Harry arriving. After finding him and returning to the cabin, Ron gives Harry the motorbike and Harry, who loves it, quickly realizes it had belonged to Sirius. Ron tails Hermione the next morning to protect her and witnesses the arrival of the 'Ministry official', the ancient Dr. Nardstone. With some surprise, Ron wonders if Hermione was aware that Dr. Nardstone is Dr. Voyde's "Uncle Phelix", a revelation she makes just after receiving a parchment from Nardstone's house-elf assistant. Voyde reads the message, looks relieved, and then tucks it away.
>>ES
"You're a good man, Shacklebolt. You too, Herring," Moody said, until he realized he was talking to a woman and cleared his throat. "Errr...good Auror, Herring. I'll have to owe one to you both."
Moody drew in breath as he turned back to Tonks, a shooting pain piercing right to his ankle – the one that was no longer there. "Damned...fool...Death Eater—have to spend the rest of my life living with what he done to me..." he muttered. He leaned heavily on his walking stick as they began to traverse the crowded Ministry corridor.
"So...now what?" Tonks asked. "Shacklebolt and Herring are covering our watch on Harry for today, so where do we go from here?"
"To check on the lad," Moody said. "From the Auror Department. I've still got a few friends that can manage to slip me in to use the, er, equipment. Come along."
Thirty minutes later Tonks and Moody were staring at a misty screen above a churning cauldron of Ministry-regulated Placement Potion.
"Arabella Figg showed up in my fire last night – claims she lost Harry for a while yesterday at her place," Moody said, waving his wand around in front of the screen to navigate a rudimentary map of London as he talked. "Let's see here...Surrey...Anyway, she and Dung finally got wise enough to check with the boy's relatives. Damned Muggles wouldn't let Arabella and Dung in to see him, but they said he'd just run the stairs like a madman, ready to upchuck. Muggles said they could still hear Harry in his room once our pair got there."
Tonks was alarmed. "Upchuck? Is Harry all right?"
"Dunno," Moody mumbled, still working on pinpointing Little Whinging. "Suppose a bit of the flu never killed no one. Damned nasty business, though."
"Has anyone seen him, then? I mean, any of us?" she asked, apparently trying to absorb some of what Moody was doing at the same time.
"No, not so far...which is why we're checking to see if we get a reading for him," Moody said, finally stopping his wand on Privet Drive. "Tain't nobody like to be bothered when they got the flu—especially the wizard flu -- so this oughtta tell us without havin' to bother him."
Tonks quieted for a few minutes as she watched Moody finish his check. "Maybe Harry will be feeling better by tomorrow. I'll go for a visit then."
"Do what you will, lass," Moody said without looking at her. "Just don't be taking no sick time off next week, if the bug gets ya. We're short-handed as it is. Yeah... yeah... there it is. One Firebolt registered to one Harry Potter, accompanied by one 11-inch holly and phoenix-feather wand registered to Harry Potter. Both now in residence at Number Four Privet Drive and I reckon they don't belong to those Muggles. Looks like he's in there, all right. We know he wouldn't go nowhere without those."
>>>ES
The slam of the door made them both jump.
"Hermione!" Ron said, finally able to breathe. "Thank you for the heart attack!"
Once Ron had returned from his outing as protector, he and Harry had spent much of the day talking about so many things: the motorbike, the fact that only Nardstone had arrived as the 'Ministry official', the motorbike, Hermione's and Dr. Null's surprise that Nardstone was Voyde's uncle, the motorbike exterior, the motorbike interior, how to find a way to 'ship' some of the destroyed Yeti food back to the Ministry, and the motorbike. Once they were all talked out, Ron sneaked out into the camp once more to 'borrow' two cleaning rags he'd seen hanging on a clothesline behind the house-elves' living quarters so they could polish-- the motorbike.
"Here," Hermione said shortly, shoving a burlap sack at Ron and stomping across the room to the desk.
"What's this? More dog biscuits? Aw, you shouldn't have – enough for all of us?" Ron asked, starting to open the bag to peer inside.
But when he looked up at the scowl on Hermione's face, he knew immediately she wasn't in the mood to play.
"Why didn't you two have the Security Spells in place while I was gone?" she demanded.
Ron and Harry looked at one another blankly.
"Didn't we?" Harry asked.
"We musta forgot when I came back with the rags," Ron explained.
"Well, you should have had them working," Hermione said tersely. "Especially now."
Ron stuck his long arm down to the bottom of the bag and pulled out a wrapped sandwich, handing it to Harry. Reaching back in to rummage through the numerous packages of wrapped foods and fruit, he found another sandwich and held it out to Hermione, who vigorously shook her head that she wasn't interested. Ron kept it for himself and opened it hungrily. Both boys sat down on the end of the bed to eat.
"Look what I found," Hermione said, reaching into her shorts pocket and pulling out a piece of parchment crumpled into a wad. She un-crumpled it and passed the flattened note to Ron. "Supposed to be a secret memo so they can catch whoever's been disrupting the wards at night."
Harry grimaced, swallowing his mouthful. "You mean –"
"Us," Ron said, passing the parchment to Harry.
"But I don't think they suspect anything about you two – or anyone from outside," Hermione said. "It's rather weird. They all seem to be suspicious of each other instead—that Smeggers man, especially."
Ron was relieved. "So how did you get the parchment? Are you usually in on the secret memos?"
"Never," Hermione said. "Null got it from Voyde, read it and crunched it up, then he shoved it in his pocket. But he was wearing his brown herringbone trousers today."
Harry's brow was furrowed. "Having a little trouble with the connection there—"
"He has a hole in his trousers pocket," Hermione said. "I hate the days he wears those – I have to chase around after him all day picking things up. At least this was something worth finding."
"So how are they going to catch the ones messing with their wards then?" Ron asked.
"Good question," Hermione said, reaching back into her pocket again for another parchment wad, which she unfolded and passed to Ron again. "Message number two. They've permanently attached the dog runs to the kennels, so the dogs have access to the runs all of the time, with only a blocking gate by the main gate into the habitat to keep the dogs enclosed when the handlers are going in and out. Plus, there'll be a guard all night in the camp itself and they're changing the security codes for the wards. In fact, they already have. Which means—"
"We can't use the ones Ron's got any more," Harry said dejectedly while Ron swore loudly.
"Precisely," Hermione said. "None of us can fly out of the camp proper any more, which makes me especially angry that you're still here, Harry."
"Makes you angry?" Ron asked. "Well, if you'd only come with me when you were supposed to, none of us would be here still—"
Hermione turned to respond to him with fire in her eyes, but Harry jumped in.
"All right, all right, arguing won't get us anywhere. So we still have to wait until dark to fly out once we decide to go -- that hasn't changed."
"And I'm still not going unless she does, so I reckon that hasn't changed-- has it?" Ron directed the final two words straight at Hermione.
"No, it hasn't, because the Yeti are still starving and deprived, and we still have no proof," Hermione said, standing up to Ron's accusatory glare.
"So – you're the one who's been here all this time, Hermione," Harry said. "Any thoughts on what to do? Or are we stuck, even once you get your proof and we're ready to go?"
"I have one idea – but I'm not sure how we'd do it, nor how you two will feel about it. But just listen." Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest and walked back and forth before them as she talked, seeming to be thinking things out as she went. "We know we can't fly out of the camp proper because that's where everything's been warded up until now. Ron and I have seen that the fences to the habitat are warded, too."
"And even the Yeti can't break those," Ron added.
"Right," Hermione said. "But, Ron – do you remember anything being warded out in the habitat itself?"
Ron thought a moment. "No."
"And Leif – " Hermione said. "Do you remember anything stopping him when he was swinging high in the trees, then dropping down?"
"Who's Leif?" Harry asked.
"A ruddy show-off," Ron said on impulse, then stammered under Hermione's glare. "I - I mean, he's an all-right bloke, er, Yeti --one of the Yeti."
"One of the Yeti who was pretty much all over the place, high, low, inside, and out—and who was quite aware of where the wards were and were not," Hermione said. "Unless you've got a structure to build the ward spells upon, like at Hogwarts, it's very difficult to set them that high – higher than the trees, right?"
Harry and Ron looked at each other again.
"If you say so," Ron said, shrugging.
"There are no licensed ward and spell specialists here, unless someone's hiding something, because I've seen all of their personnel files," Hermione continued. "They're pretty much all scientists or animal handlers. So I'm guessing that: one, they wouldn't have had time to re-set the wards completely over the habitat yet, or two, they might never have planned on having any at all. One thing the Yeti cannot do is go straight up into the air without something to climb on, so why would they bother with wards over the top of the habitat?"
"That's, er...great, Hermione," Harry said. "But how does that help us?"
"If there's nothing to keep us from the air over the habitat – " Hermione began.
"We should be able to fly out from there – " Harry said.
"Without disturbing any wards!" Ron finished.
Hermione smiled. "Exactly. So I was thinking...for proof, we need to ship some still-burning food to the Ministry, if possible. Once the handlers are burning half the food from tonight's shipment, one of us creates a distraction, the other two load up the food and get it to the Post Room. I've already held the shipping bill so that the Space Dislocation channel isn't settled and can be opened in seconds. Then we can get into the habitat somehow and fly out from there."
"We?" Ron asked, looking at her hopefully. He set the burlap sack on his lap to speak since he'd been fishing around in it as she spoke, looking for something else to eat. "Meaning --all of us?"
"If we can get the proof shipped--" Hermione said, "—yes, I'll go. Only so I can explain to the Ministry or Dumbledore or someone what it is and why it's there. I've already written a letter to leave for Dr. Null, explaining my intentions." Hermione reached into her other shorts pocket and pulled out a perfectly folded bit of parchment; she dropped it on the desk. She fell into the desk chair, obviously still thinking hard. "Only one major problem left..."
"Only one?" Ron asked. "I've been out there too, remember, and what you've got there already sounds like quite a lot to do while working in the near-dark, trying to get past those handlers and the Yeti and dogs before we set off. You think there'll be no problems with that?"
"Maybe a few little things, but I think we can handle them, only—"
"So let's hear the big problem then," Ron said sarcastically.
"If we're out there shuffling burning food, smoke and all, from place to place, it's likely to attract attention that even a pretty big distraction won't help," Hermione said.
"I'd say that's probably a good point," Harry said. "How long can one of us distract them from something like that?"
"If it was fully dark, it would help more, but we can't do it then because the food will no longer be there – it'll already be all burnt up and no longer good as evidence. They always burn the extra food around the time the sun is going down or just after. But it still stays light for quite a while."
"Which means it would be fairly easy for them to see us," Ron said.
"No Invisibility Cloak this time, either," Harry said. "I had to travel light."
"Even if we can do something to the guard in camp at that time, and if there's no one else, it would take too long to get back here to get the motorbike and the broom and get them out into the habitat and we'd get caught for sure." Hermione leaned forward in the chair to talk to the two boys. "But what if we did...this..."
>>>ES
"Flashy," Moody grumbled. "Too bloody flashy."
He stepped past the large storefront window of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. A gaudy, blinking, neon-colored sign lit his face, advertising the twins' latest invention, the "Marks Mask Potion" next to the image of a winking student who held out toward his mum a report card full of terrible marks. It was apparent the woman was unable to see the actual nature of the marks, since she appeared quite thrilled by them and repeatedly leaned in to give the student a kiss on the cheek.
"G'day, Mr. Weasley," Moody said loudly as he entered and when it seemed that the tall, red-haired store proprietor would turn to walk away into the back room. He'd never been able to tell one twin from the other, so the formal address took care of several problems.
"Professor—er, Mr. Moody!" the twin said, wheeling around in surprise at the voice. "Welcome to our fine establishment! To what do we owe this distinct pleasure?" He smiled brightly and set down the parchment work he'd been holding on the counter next to the cash register.
"Wouldn't be willing to part with any more of those powdered Ramora scales you sold me a couple of months back, would you? The Apothecary's out again, as always, and I know you use 'em quite regular for so many o' those exploding things," Moody said. "Runnin' a bit low on my Ghostlimb Potion and these phantom pains'll kill ya."
The twin looked thoughtful for a moment before speaking. "Yeah, that Potion surely helped out a pirate's pegleg or two in its day—" He suddenly looked rather alarmed at himself for saying that, so he cleared his throat and quickly continued. "...Not that that would have anything to do with your circumstances, of course."
A large bang was heard from the back of the store and Moody's magical eye suddenly began to act quite agitated, swinging around and jumping from side to side.
The twin before him looked quite uncomfortable at the sound and seemed to be forcing himself to look straight ahead at Moody rather than instinctively turning to look behind him. "You know, I'm pretty sure I saw some there in the back. Haven't been able to leave the shop and go get the regular ingredient shipments --what with Fred gone on business and all! – but we've likely got enough to get you by, I'd wager."
Odd that the boy would speak so loudly in only the middle of his sentence, Moody thought, but then those twins had always been a little off. So if Fred was gone...
"You must be George then?" Moody asked.
"Er...yeah," 'George' said, still a bit distracted. "At your service."
"Fred's away on business then, you say?"
"Yeah – for a few days is all," George said, pulling a large sheaf of parchments out from under the counter and beginning to look through them. "Er, I'll just check the expiration date on that last batch. That Ramora powder's really volatile stuff once it's past the expiration date, nothing you'd want to use for a consumable potion in that state."
Popping erupted from the back room now and the sound of something liquid trickling onto the floor made both of them squirm a little.
Moody scowled and tried to subtly lean left to see around George, but he could spot nothing but the empty doorway and a large work table covered with a huge mess: a conglomeration of parchments, tools, boxes, cauldrons, pestles and mortars virtually covered every available inch of work space.
"Must be that ruddy cat again," George said nervously.
Quite suddenly a cat appeared at the side of the empty doorway, but to Moody's mind, the thing was acting quite mad. It hissed and swatted at something unseen behind the side of the doorway, then appeared to try and run away. Yet, oddly, it just as quickly ended up back at the side of the door again with something seeming to push it from behind. Strangely enough, whatever was pushing it looked more and more like a shoe the more the cat was pushed into view.
George appeared to have found his expiration date and turned at the sound of the hissing cat. Then he turned back to Moody with a grin. "Ah, see? Told you it was the cat. What evil have you been up to, eh, kitty? Bad Fritz! All right, I'll go get that for you -- be right back, sir."
Moody said nothing, but watched warily as George disappeared through the door right behind the irritated feline that darted away in front of him. He could have sworn he heard the sound of a fist being punched into flesh and just after, a muffled, "hey!" along with frenzied whispering. Auror training and years of chasing Dark wizards made for the development of razor-sharp listening skills, even outside of any normal wizard's earshot.
But some other noise was running interference now. It took Moody a moment to pinpoint its source, yet he soon realized it was from somewhere behind and above him. The noise was likely intended to be singing, but it had a terrible, grating, gravelly quality to it – not to mention it was coming from a birdhouse mounted above the entry door.
He turned to focus on the birdhouse just in time for something to fly out and yell, "Oi, Fred! I've remembered where I left that receipt for the...Holy Hippogriffs!... It's—"
Whatever it was that flew from the birdhouse was apparently just as unpleasantly surprised as Moody, as evidenced by the stunned look on its face once it looked up. Its half-smoked 'cigar' dropped from the bottom lip of its wide-open mouth to the floor.
As soon as the old Auror could focus on the gruff and swarthy little creature hanging in the air before him, he finished his sentence for him. "—You!" Moody snarled.
"Oh, no, no, no," the creature stammered, his wings reversing to take him backwards now. "I'm not that bloke. I know what you're thinking – but you got the wrong man, er, fairy. I'm not him." With that, Howard wheeled around in mid-air and hastily retreated through the hole in the bird house.
Moody growled and turned back to the counter as the twin who'd been helping him returned from the back room. "He live there, does he?"
George – or by now he wasn't sure just who he was talking to – looked puzzled at Moody's remark, to which Moody thrust a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the bird house.
"Oh – Howard?" George said, finally catching on. "So you've met, then? Well, don't mind him, he's new and all...still trying to civilize him a bit, if you get my drift..."
"Howard, eh?" Moody asked. "So that's his name this week. Oh – and he didn't seem too certain that Fred was off on business. Seemed to think... you might be Fred."
George chuckled nervously. "Yeah, well – you know how tough it for everyone to tell us apart. Reckon he just forgot who was who. Honest mistake."
"Nothing in the least bit honest about that bloke," Moody muttered.
"So here you go," George jumped in with mock cheerfulness, appearing anxious to get on with the transaction.
And perhaps anxious to get me out of his shop? Moody thought.
"Lucky for you the Ramora scale's on special today," George continued, sounding hopeful. "Well – special for you, that is. Take it – with our compliments – you know, as a token of our thanks for all the hard work you Aurors do...er, did... er, used to do..and some—others -- still do, of course."
Moody considered pursuing it further, but saw no reason to let the issue take up any more of his time. He had more important things to contend with, like making sure Harry was all right—and that had nothing to do with these mad blokes.
"Thank you kindly then, George," Moody said with special emphasis on the name so he could watch the twin's reaction in a last ditch attempt to see if there was something strange about it. But not a muscle in the young man's face twitched, much to Moody's dismay.
Another shooting pain in his leg reminded him he had an hour or two of potion-making to attend to as well, and the sooner the better. Hobbling through the front entrance to the shop, he heard George say rather half-heartedly, "Stop in again, sir...sometime..."
Oughtta keep an eye and an ear out on that place, Moody thought, what with that group o'characters in cahoots...
>>>ES
"Mad," Ron said, shaking his head. "The girl is barking mad."
"Then why did you agree to go along with her plan?" Harry asked. "Kinda dodgy, if you ask me."
"Me?" Ron asked. "I thought you agreed first – and I didn't want to be the bad bloke, as always. She's already read me the riot act about the fact that no one except that old geezer showed up."
It was silent between the two boys for a few minutes. They waited in back of Hermione's cabin as she purportedly checked the camp to make certain everyone else was at dinner. Ron held Fred's broomstick in his hand and stood close to the corner of the building, while Harry stood a few feet back with the motorbike.
Ron heard a click, then the sounds of his best friend rustling around behind him; he looked back to see what the problem could be. "Oh – it's that kickstand. It gets loose like that. You only need something called a Philips screwdriver to tighten that up, but I left that tool at home."
"But it--won't-- move," Harry said, grunting as he tried to move the motorbike forward a foot or so to be ready for the signal.
"Yeah – well, it's there—" Ron said, gesturing toward the side of the motorbike closest to him.
"Where?" Harry looked all over the side of the motorbike where he stood holding the handlebars.
"Right there," Ron said, pointing and not wanting to leave his watch in case he missed Hermione. "Other side. The kickstand's down, so it's dragging and won't let the bike move forward."
"You know what?" Harry said. "Maybe you should be the one to get this thing out into its hiding place. You know better what all of its little quirks are. It might take me some time – and that we haven't got right now. Here – I'll take the broomstick – besides, this broomstick and I got to be quite close over the past day or so."
Ron looked at the broom in his hand. "Whose is this anyway?"
"Fred's," Harry said, as he switched places with Ron and took the broomstick from his friend.
Harry had brought Ron up to date on the twins' scheme earlier in the day while waiting for Hermione to be done with work. Chuckling quietly now, Ron could just imagine how irritated Fred was when he found out he was the wand and broomstick donor. "Good," he said, still smirking. "I like that."
Ron incanted "Reparo!" at the flimsy kickstand joint, knowing that the spell would only hold for a day or two without tightening from a real bona fide screwdriver – motorbikes charmed to fly appeared to be odd like that. But, with any luck, he should be at the Burrow with Phillips in hand long before. And with Hermione standing right behind him, too, if he had anything to do with it – out of this place that was so full of evil that he hadn't been expecting. Lost in his daydream, he stepped around the back of the motorbike; the light from the setting sun hit him square in the face and brought him back to reality.
He squinted and held up his hand to block the sun, trying to judge just how much time they were going to have. How can she think this is going to work? he thought. If Hermione's calculations were correct, they might have as much as half an hour or forty-five minutes from now before the sun went down to get the motorbike and the broomstick to their hiding places outside the confines of the camp. That should then give them another half hour or forty-five minutes of light beyond that, during which time the food shipment should arrive. Once that appeared, she said it usually took them until just about the time it was dark to distribute the food to the feeding stations, and about the same length of time for the handler who was in charge of 'disposing' of the 'rancid' food to take it out near the dog kennels and burn it. There, they would find some way to get it to the Post Room. Oh yes, and as soon as it was dark, there was an extra guard on watch in the camp to catch them.
Ron didn't really mind following hare-brained schemes sometimes – heaven knows he'd gone along with plenty between the twins and Harry. Not only that, he ordinarily didn't mind attempting the impossible – after all, he was here, wasn't he? But this didn't look good. How can she think this is going to work? And where is she?
"Did I mention the girl was mad?" Ron asked, not really expecting an answer.
"Ron," Harry said, squinting in the direction of the north end of the lab building. "That's Hermione there, isn't it?"
Ron stepped forward as far as he could without shoving the motorbike's front tire out where it could be seen. He still had to crane his neck to see where Harry was looking. Sure enough, Hermione was standing on the cement stoop of the far entrance to the lab building where the two of them had sneaked through on their way back into the main camp last night. Both of her arms were above her head and she was swinging them back and forth wildly to catch his and Harry's attention. She must be fairly certain there's no one out and about in the camp if she's doing that – I hope, Ron thought.
"Yeah, that's her – hard to tell, I know, but that's the lab building," Ron said, raising his own arm and waving back to let her know they'd seen her. At that, she pointed toward the bushes behind the commons and then indicated they should move everything forward to there on her signal. "Got it, Harry?"
"Yeah, we're going to those bushes over there, right?" He pointed and Ron nodded. " Waiting...there's the signal. Let's go."
The two boys scrambled with broomstick and motorbike across the open area and shoved their way into the protective brush. When they looked toward Hermione, they saw her hold her hand out flat in front of her to mean 'stop' and wait. She could see most of the camp very well from her vantage point; with any luck she could lead them around the edge of the camp to the lab building without being spotted.
She next had them cross to hide behind the Post Room. There wasn't much space for them to fit in two sixteen-year-old boys and two modes of transportation too, but they pushed themselves together to wait for her signal.
"Hope this goes fast," Harry said, sounding as if he was holding his breath to keep from being pushed into the open by the motorbike bouncing off his backside.
"What's she doing?" Ron said, since he was bringing up the rear now and couldn't see.
"Just looking...all right, I think she's going to...yes! There it is!" Harry stepped out to make a run for the bushes behind a supply shed. "Wait!" he hissed, stopping short and jerking forward from Ron nearly running him over with the motorbike.
"What the bloody hell--?" Ron complained.
"She put up the stop signal and kind of flipped her hand back over her head like she was smoothing her hair," Harry said. "She's talking to someone who just walked up to her -- a very short someone..."
"Kinda greenish-yellow someone?" Ron asked dryly.
"Yeah – now I can see it's a house-elf," Harry answered. "He's walking back across the open area now...she's still got the stop signal up for us because he's, oh—back up!"
Ron did as he was told, looking behind him to make certain he and the motorbike weren't hanging out the other side of the shack now. He and Harry even tried to breathe quietly, if that was possible. They heard the light footsteps of the house-elf as he approached and then passed in front of the Post Room, apparently on his way back to the commons building.
"Now!" Harry said urgently, after a minute of watching for Hermione's signal; both of them ran for the stoop where Hermione was, allowing her to quickly open the lab building door and usher them safely – and hopefully invisibly—inside.
"Made it!" she said, releasing a great sigh.
"Just down this long hallway, right?" Ron asked, starting to push the motorbike that direction. "It was darker when we came through last night."
"Yes – and then down to the huge door at the end that leads outside—it's only ever locked coming from the habitat – this side's always open," she answered. " But stop when you get there and I'll check outside for whoever – whatever – might be out there--"
"Sounds like great fun," Harry commented sarcastically.
"Oh yeah," Ron said. "You're gonna love it."
Hermione made a noise of exasperation. "Honestly, Ron! The Yeti probably aren't even all awake yet – besides, lately most of the serious problems have happened at night."
"Which is fast approaching," Ron mumbled.
"We'll be out before it's totally dark. And everyone else is going to be finishing with dinner in a matter of minutes, so – all the better to move along anyway, right?" she said huffily, glaring at Ron.
"Hey, this was your idea," Ron said.
"And it was well-noted there were none from anyone else present. Right, Harry?"
Harry, under the glare of both of his friends, just shrugged and shook his head. "Er...I forget," he said, apparently in the interest of diplomacy.
Hermione simply stared at Harry for a moment. "Convenient," she said tersely, flipping her hair and striding off ahead of them down the corridor.
Deep in the habitat, Hermione stood proudly and looked at absolutely nothing for a good minute or two before she spoke.
"There! Thought I could do it!" She smiled at her own handiwork.
Harry and Ron stood gaping at the nothingness as well.
"Nice work, Hermione!" Harry said enthusiastically.
"I've said it before and I'll say it again," Ron added. "You're a bit scary sometimes, you know. Brilliant, but scary... And it's really still there?" Ron took several halting steps toward the empty patch of dirt in the forest, holding out his hand until it connected with something rough and covered with splinters: the side wall of the old miner's hut Hermione had just enchanted.
"So, what happens if one of the Yeti come across it?" Harry asked. "You've said they're quite magical. They won't be able to undo the enchantment?"
"First off, they're not likely to know the hut's there--," Hermione explained, "-- and if they happen to run into it, they can feel it, but haven't any idea what kind of thing they're un-enchanting, so they wouldn't know where to start. Unless, of course, they have far better memories than we've ever found out about and remember that the old wreck was still out here somehow. That's why I picked this place," Hermione said. "Didn't know if it still existed, of course, but it was still on the most recent map of the habitat, marked by Smeggers, I think, as 'un-useable'."
By now, Ron had felt his way across the front of the invisible shed and opened the door, though it must have looked to the other two as if he was pantomiming. He started to take a step inside to make sure the motorbike and Fred's broomstick were still there, but a shimmering yellow wall appeared before him and he began to feel as if every splinter in the original shed had just been shoved into every inch of his skin.
"Aarggh!" he said loudly and jumped back.
"Shhhh!" Hermione warned. "I don't think any of the Yeti would be out this far when it's this close to feeding time, but you can bet that if they are, they're not the nicer ones. Oh – and I don't think you're supposed to disturb the enchanted area."
Ron was rubbing both of his arms with the opposite hands. "Thank you for letting me know – so soon and all," he said sarcastically. "So if you're not supposed to disturb it, how do you get rid of the enchantment if we need to get out of here fast?"
"Well, if all goes as planned, I'll be here with you, so—" Hermione started.
"No. Uh-uh," Ron said. "Since when do these things always go as planned? Remember the little mission at the Department of Mysteries and how well that went?"
Harry suddenly found a serious interest in his shoe top.
Turning away from Harry so that he couldn't see her face, Hermione looked at Ron accusingly and rolled her eyes in Harry's direction.
Feeling terrible, Ron grimaced and could have kicked himself. He and Harry had already talked a lot out several weeks ago, but – that was then and Harry didn't need reminding. "Sorry, mate."
Harry looked up, serious but determined. "Fact of life, I'm afraid – or death." Then he sighed.
"So you haven't answered my question," Ron said. "What if Harry or I need to get in here fast – and you're not around for some reason?"
"You already know the basic Invisible Enchantment Spell from Charms," Hermione began. "It's just grander and more intense – so remember that. And if you or Harry has to reverse it, I'm sure the reversal would have to be just as intense as the initial enchantment. Then I've tied all of our middle names this time to it as a Security Feature, so don't forget to use JamesBiliusJane. I don't think anyone else would ever think of that, do you?"
"Hermione!" Ron said in exasperation. "I said what if we need to get in here fast!"
"Well, you'd just do what I said—"
A fearful Yeti yell interrupted her and echoed through the trees, not far from where they stood.
"And so it begins," Ron said resignedly. They'd have to deal with the Charms lesson later. "We'd better get out of here. Now you think we can get through the gate at this time because they're filling the feeding stations?
"I think so," Hermione said. "You and I were much later last night and they'd already locked up."
"Not to mention they were trying to keep the Yeti loonies in," Ron said dryly.
"They're not all loonies, Ron," Hermione protested.
"We'd better get on it if we mean to get to that food before they burn it up completely," Harry said. "That is still the plan, right? Then, as soon as we've taken care of getting that shipped off to the Ministry, we head back out here, get the broom and the bike, and we're off? Still a bit too soon for me, but maybe we can sneak off to the Burrow instead--"
An odd, muffled thumping noise made its way through the forest and the trio stopped talking to listen to it more closely.
"What is that?" Ron asked.
"I don't know," Hermione said. "I've never heard a Yeti make a noise like that before. It sounds like—" An urgent, panicked animal shriek gave way to a sudden, ominous silence. "A horse! Ron!"
"I know," Ron said seriously, visually scanning the forest. "Where'd it come from?"
"I'm not sure...I think...near the Feeding Station maybe," Hermione said. "Come on."
Hermione led Ron and Harry through the trees at a brisk trot, all of them aware they could go no faster or they'd risk tripping over branches and stumps in the gathering darkness. As they ran, another deep, prideful Yeti yell pierced the dusky summer air, sounding much like the same Yeti who'd yelled before. Several others answered the call from various parts of the forest.
The three friends were making headway well when they saw several dozen meters to the east the lanterns from Feeding Station Two. They had stopped running and were picking their way through the brush carefully and quietly. There was still a bit of light, though it was going fast. They had to try and remain in the deeper foliage so as not to be spotted, but it didn't make for quick travel. Muffled noises and large bodies moving around could be heard now, quite a few of them, and when they finally found a place to peer through the leaves into the clearing, what they saw was far from a calm and casual feeding session.
Spyder commanded the attention of everyone present. His nostrils flared, his black eyes blazing, his chest heaving with the rapid breathing borne of something akin to adrenaline speeding through his body, he looked every bit the conqueror. The air of excitement about him belied the truth at his feet – what he savored was not victory over another male of his kind, but the thrill of his fresh kill.
On the ground before him and not far from the flattened cartons of recently-delivered Yeti rations, a horse lay dead. Bleeding bite marks showed as the only blemishes on a neck angled oddly away from its body. Its back foot twitched gruesomely, but thankfully, not for long.
The rest of the Yeti stood stunned, expressions of confusion crossing their faces. Some looked deep in thought as they stared, as if they were trying to recall something they'd seen somewhere before. Others simply showed horror and revulsion at the sight before them, squirming uncomfortably and chancing furtive glances at one another in the group. A very few held half-eaten morsels from the Ministry food shipments, all but forgotten in the wake of the events of the past few minutes.
Striding slowly and purposefully from somewhere near the back of the group came Trey. Even those Yeti too much in shock to do anything else moved aside for their chosen leader, seemingly aware that something crucial was about to take place.
"No..." Hermione whimpered, holding one hand to her mouth as she watched Trey's progress toward Spyder. "What if they--?"
Ron knew they shouldn't be here. But he was quite aware there would be no tearing Hermione away from this place until she saw all she'd intended to see. He also knew her well enough that he felt compelled to find out where her other hand was – and he'd been right to look. She'd removed her wand from her back pocket and whether aware of it or not, was slowly easing it out in front of her, aimed roughly in Spyder's direction. Before Ron could reach for her to do something about that, the thrashing and cracking of branches overhead distracted and worried him enough to make him even more determined they should find a safer place if they were staying much longer. Scanning the dimly lamplit forest to his right, he found his answer.
He then turned back to Hermione. "Oh, no you don't," he whispered, staying Hermione's rising wand hand with his own long fingers.
"But—" she tried to protest.
"No," he insisted. "Isn't there some law or something that keeps you from interfering with Yeti business unless you have to? There must be."
"But look what Spyder's done!" she said. "What if he does the same to Trey? After what went on in their cave—"
"—And in spite of all the fireworks, they're both still standing there, aren't they? We, on the other hand, might be quite dead if we'd interfered more and if—" Ron realized he didn't really want to admit what he was about to tell her, but he forced himself – "if that Yeti kid hadn't got us out of there."
Hermione frowned and began to say something else, but grudgingly allowed Ron to pull her wand away and push it into his own back jeans pocket. Then, knowing there was no way words alone would persuade her to move in her sullen mood, he took full hold of her now-empty hand and started pulling her through the brush behind him. "Harry! Come on – over here."
Just as the three of them had managed to squeeze themselves under the observation platform from where Ron and Hermione had watched the feeding the night before, an enormous crash and thud startled them from precisely where they'd been hiding mere moments before. A body shoved its way through the brush into the feeding station clearing and the three saw Leif enter the circle of light from the lanterns.
"Speak of the devil," Ron muttered and Hermione socked him hard in the arm with her free hand. But at least she's only got one free hand, Ron thought to himself through the pain of her punch. She hadn't yet released Ron's hand with her other as they watched and in spite of the danger they were in, he couldn't help but feel a smile welling up inside of him. Maybe she's given up being peeved...
Trey had almost reached Spyder by now, but there were as yet no fireworks. A loud, deep growl was heard coming from the general direction of the two male Yetis, but it was impossible to tell which of them was doing it, if not both. The other Yetis from the group present stood frozen and silent, giving the feeling they could be almost holding their breath.
The regal old Yeti stopped mere meters from the darker, stronger, and younger one before him. The dead horse lay on the ground between them. Staring deep into the eyes of Spyder, Trey mumbled something in the half-spoken, apparently half-telepathic language the Yeti used to communicate among themselves.
Whatever was said, it must have been something very meaningful because those Yeti who were near enough to Spyder and Trey looked somberly alarmed, their eyes darting toward one another, apparently afraid to react much more than that.
Trey held out his hands over the dead animal, palms toward the ground. He swung his enormous hands first to the left and to the right as if trying to assess what had actually taken place without ever touching the horse. But from the reactions of Spyder and those Yeti around the two, the three friends realized Trey was not just making an assessment, but an accusation.
Even the rebellious Spyder looked torn enough that one could almost believe this was some sort of ancient rite, something that he'd been raised to respect and that the Yeti had carried with them in their culture for hundreds, if not thousands of years. The insolence in the young Yeti's stance was gone, but on his face floated a mass of emotion, ever changing between fear and hatred.
Suddenly the older Yeti's arms slowly rose until his wrists were at eye level. More noises and grunts were heard as he spoke, then he crossed his arms in front of his forehead at the wrist, fingers outstretched to make an enormous 'X' in front of his head. His voice rising in volume, he was shouting by the time he spoke some final Yeti incantation.
Violently, Trey swung his hands to his sides, his fingertips etching in green light a huge 'X' in the air before him. The light slashed at Spyder; he fell off-balance momentarily and then staggered to stand upright again. And when he did, the lantern light reflected a huge, dark, glistening and dripping 'X' fully crossing the young Yeti's chest. It was hard to tell for certain in the meager light, but from the reaction of the Yeti crowd, Ron could guess the dark cross they saw was from the shine of Spyder's blood.
Ron could feel Hermione squeezing his hand hard now– a little too hard, but he knew she was just doing all she could not to interfere. A quick glance to his left showed her expression as tense and taut, and every few seconds she would draw in short little gasps of air between her teeth.
Spyder looked frantic now, but he didn't move much. He was breathing hard, fast, and shallow – his eyes darted everywhere – he was quite obviously in pain, both physically and mentally. Although the injury to him didn't seem life-threatening, there was definitely something more to it than what could be seen – and the three friends watched in awe as they realized what it was. One by one, the Yeti repeated Trey's ritual toward Spyder – though theirs must have been primarily symbolic because no further harm came to the young Yeti's body than what Trey had already done. Once their incantation was finished, each Yeti in turn faced away, head and gaze lowered in a somber pose, as if they were in mourning. They stayed in this position as the next Yeti in turn began their own ritual.
"What are they doing?" Harry whispered to Hermione.
"Killing is forbidden among the Yeti except for food," she explained. "That horse isn't the sort of animal they kill for food – and it looks like they have no intention of eating it, thank god. I think it's a banishment ritual of some sort. Dr. Null says they've been known to do that – and I can't imagine why else Spyder is just standing there except to respond to the judgment of the tribe, so to speak. It's weird –he's not the type to stand there and take it – especially from Trey. It's as if he's waiting..."
Nearly all were turned away from Spyder now except for Trey, Leif, and another Yeti near the back of the group. Hille had just finished her part of the ritual and turned her children to face away with her when there was a loud crashing through the brush once more. But this time, it was accompanied by shouts ringing through the forest and lanterns held aloft. The Yeti would not complete their ritual this day.
"Stupefy!"
Trey turned in alarm in time to receive a heavy magical blow straight to the middle of his chest. He was thrown backwards and he stumbled, but did not go down. Other Yeti were hit by the same spell from other wands – a few found themselves on the ground while others fought to stay upright. The one notable exception to the attack by the handlers was Spyder, who stood staring on for a few moments in surprise.
Four handlers came charging into the clearing, quickly followed by Carl Smeggers and Dr. Voyde. The handlers stayed circled around their leaders, wands drawn to hold any rampaging Yetis at bay.
But only one creature did anything different from the rest.
Spyder had returned to his previous state of excitement. Whether it was because the strange banishment ritual hadn't been completed or because of the tension of the handlers barging in, no one would ever know. Yet, oddly, Spyder seemed anxious to see Smeggers and Voyde, and even more anxious to show them what he'd done. Scooping up the horse's limp body easily with his strong arms, Spyder carried it to the center of the clearing and laid it as close as he could to the zooliwitch and her head man, even if he had to cautiously avoid two handlers with their wandpoints trained on his forehead just in case.
"Beautiful, Spyder," Dr. Voyde said soothingly, approaching the dead horse and its killer with almost a sense of awe and a smile, yet keeping a safe distance. "What a good Yeti you are."
"I told you," Carl grunted to her, following at her heels. "I told you, this one he is learning. He'll be the first to show her, you'll see – the first of his kind to make a name for himself. Hank, you got more food from the shipment?"
Hank cocked his head a bit while keeping his eye on Spyder to speak to his boss. "Only what's on the cart to be burned."
Hermione moaned softly. "Oh, no. The food shipment..."
"Makes no matter tonight," Carl said. "Not for this one. Spyder, he has earned his keep. Go now. Go to get it. An entire box—no, two! – just for this one Yeti. Bring it now!"
"Two boxes?" Dr. Voyde said. "Just for Spyder? You're sure we won't be biting off more than we can chew by rewarding him so lavishly?"
"It's the only way," Smeggers said. "The last two nights, the wards go down, too much noise! Too much noise – on what was supposed to be quiet nights – reward nights to give a clearcut message that killing can be good. The noise, the nights of no quiet has confused them. We must make a big deal about this one killing the horse even without the quiet nights. Two boxes of food for his own – perfect."
"Whatever you say, love," Dr. Voyde cooed. "You're my deprivation expert—for the Yeti, anyway." Her sickeningly sweet gaze up at Smeggers again made Ron want to retch.
"Sounds like there may not be much of a food shipment left to burn tonight," Harry said quietly.
"Or to ship to the Ministry for proof," Ron added.
Every other Yeti in the clearing had moved in stunned confusion either toward Trey, or toward the edge of the light so the safety and comfort of the dark forest could swallow them up. They were clustered together where they could be, confused and bewildered, acting as if they wondered how these wizards and witches could presume to charge in and change what had been Yeti tradition for so many thousands of years. They would look hurriedly at the sight of the dead horse, then turn away in apparent disgust and revulsion, obviously still confused that the wizards and the witch would think that killing such a magnificent creature could be such a good thing.
"Keep them here!" Dr. Voyde commanded, and the three handlers that remained after Hank's departure for food had to continuously send out Dolorus Spells to those Yeti who would try to escape from the clearing.
Hank returned shortly with two of the food boxes, carrying one and dragging one behind him in the air with a Mobilus Charm. "Here yeh go, yeh big hairy ape," he said, setting the boxes down before Spyder. The great Yeti had been waiting warily, yet seemed to expect that something good would come of his deed.
"You're more a big, hairy ape right now than that black one is," Carl told Hank. "Tonight, if we do this right, he's going to look and feel like a hero."
Spyder sat down and ripped off the cardboard cover from one of the boxes after collecting both of them into his lap. The other Yeti hungrily watched the huge, black killer slobber, slurp, and consume his own two boxes of food – exactly the number of cartons that had been left in the clearing to feed the entire rest of the group for the night.
Handlers stood nearby to make certain the other Yeti weren't allowed to leave and were forced to take in the entire spectacle. Trey stood among the group, but refused to look Spyder's way, while Starr lingered supportively near her mate's shoulder.
Hermione could take it no longer and let out a great sigh of frustration. "I can't stay here and watch this," she said miserably. "Look what they've done – look how they're trying to warp these poor creatures."
"Hermione – six of them, three of us —probably not the best idea to try and take them on, if that's what you're thinking," Harry said reasonably. "Especially with ...who do the Yeti side with, anyway?"
"Each other, unless they're male and then it's truly bolluxed up," Ron said. "But there must be something else we can do—"
"Wait," Harry said. "How many handlers did you say there were altogether?"
"Four, now that Sloane's gone," Hermione said distractedly, but then seemed to slowly catch on. "But...you're right, Harry, they're all here – all the other people in the camp – except Dr. Nardstone and Dr. Null..." Suddenly she gasped. "I've got to tell Dr. Null!
They've obviously not told him anything or he'd be here, so he's probably in the lab— and Nardstone's surely asleep by now—"
"And if they're all here, there's no one at the gate – or on guard in the camp—and that handler's just come through with the food..." Ron said. "No wards!"
The three friends all exchanged glances, ducked their heads, and crawled out from under the back of the observation platform. As they jogged toward the gates, a short squeal was heard from a Yeti or two, probably as they were given a reminder by the handlers that it would be bad manners to turn away from their new hero.