Frail Wings - 2
Yes, it's the second chapter! Hurray!
Floorboards creaked in the night, wind was whistling through the house from a loose window one floor up. The same one that had been doing so this morning and had fought them every time they tried to fix it. There had to be five nails in that board at the very least and the wind still managed to come through. Even though the gap had been made smaller the wind howled louder, making it impossible to hear what was going on downstairs.
"Harry," Ron hissed, tugging on his friends sleeve and they made their way up a flight of stairs to find the twins' room.
It was as rugged and unkempt as the rest of the house. The whole thing still needed loads of work until it looked like a living person could live in it instead of ghosts. Unfortunately they were living in this mess right now. The house elf the place had obviously hadn't done anything to keep the place in shape. Except that one bloody portrait.
The hanging in the entrance hall with some cloth, a blanket perhaps - it was hard to tell exactly what it was, what with it covered in so much dust itself. Either way the painting didn't seem to care about any of that. It did care about them though. A woman's shrill voice would fill the whole house should that thing fall off of it. It would curse, spit, and howl at them like a wild banshee. That voice managed to get into every nook and cranny of the house when the woman hurled her insults at them.
She had to be the most bloody annoying thing he had ever heard. Though first place was currently going to that window.
"Here," Ron said, pulling up the edge of a blanket that had purposely been strewn across the end of the bed so that most of it was hanging on the floor. With the rest of the house the way it was their mother didn't have time to go around tidying their rooms like she usually did at the burrow. More often than not yelling at them to fix it themselves while she supervised to, 'make sure they didn't use any magical short cuts.' Which really just went against the point of magic in his opinion. There afterall was a reason the first spells made were mundane and still used even now.
It cut back the time it would usually take them to do it themselves without magic so they had more time for stuff like this. Opening the box in his hands it proudly stated under the lid in bold gold letter script, Weasleys' Wizard wheezes. He instantly reached for a Stongurn, fingers wrapping around the container with a gray substance filled to the brim.
"Thief."
The word cut suddenly through the air causing Ron to jump and almost lose his grip on the container. He clasped his other hand around it as well once he had gotten himself to stand still and quit wobbling on one foot. Ron whirled around to scowl at his brother who were leaning in the doorway with wide grins on their faces. Before he could get a word in Harry spoke, "Where have you two been?"
The smile on their faces only grew in answer. So causing trouble then. Hopefully with that house elf. Ron had heard how helpful they were all his life by other Purebloods with one in their household but from what he had seen he couldn't agree with them. If anything they made it worse. What was the most likely scenario was that this particular house elf was the worst out there.
As his thoughts grumbled about the behaviors of house elves he noticed a form behind the twins.
A man with dark thick hair framing his face, his facial hair not quite all over the place like the first time he saw him at the house, his house. "Sirius," Harry said, moving forward and the twins stepped into the room around Harry so that he could approach him. "Any news?"
Fred and George sat on their beds, Fred grabbing the box and setting it on top of the comforter before throwing the blanket back over it. Neither of them were leaving this room anytime soon then. They were just as anxious as him and Harry for Sirius' answer.
"She's at Crouch Manor-"
"Hermione," Ron cut in with a frown. "She has a name."
Harry gave him a look but he didn't care to apologize for interrupting. He hated that at times they would call her, 'she' instead of by her name. When they talked of her at all. Mostly it was about the Death Eaters and Voldemort. Where they were last spotted, what they were currently planning - according to the latest intel that came via Snape. No matter what he told them it was never enough it seemed.
This intel was coming too slow. That greasy git had originally been a Death Eater and Ron didn't see any reason to trust him and he knew Harry felt the same. "Where else would she have been? It was Barty that took her but no one bothered to go check Crouch Manor for her first?" The fact that just this piece of information had taken so long was getting on his last nerve. That blasted window - that was still howling even now - had stopped them from hearing any of this conversation. One that was more important in his opinion. Who knew what that creep was doing to Hermione right now?
"It wasn't possible to do recon there with so many Death Eaters coming and going, it was obviously a base of operations, not somewhere the Order could just storm in. It still isn't. Crouch Manor is like the Malfoy's place in that regard, except it's not as big and is even harder to slip into undetected because of that."
Harry perked up slightly. "It's been done then? It's possible to get in?"
Sirius looked uncomfortable at the question and Ron could feel his own small bubble of hope burst. "No. It's just a fact. Snape hasn't been in the building himself so we don't even know which room she is in. The Manor itself is said to be smaller than the Malfoy's but the dungeon is rather... extensive. Without knowing her exact location, if it even moves on a regular basis, in a routine way if it does." Sirius sighed, rubbing at his jaw. "We just don't know enough to get her out. Storming the place now would just make it more difficult later on."
That conclusion didn't help Ron's thoughts in the slightest. The summer was almost over, school would be in session again soon and it looked as if Hermione wasn't going to be with them this time. She hadn't actually been there much of last year either but at least it felt like she was there. Even if it was just a golem in her place.
A shiver ran through him at that thought. It creeped him out that something not even living could take a person's place in the world so easily. That she had been locked up in a closet and tortured for almost half of the year.
If only he could get his hands on that bastard's neck and strangle him...
"You told them, didn't you?"
He looked up sharply to see Alastor standing out in the hallway peering into the room over Sirius' shoulder. "Yes," the last sane Black conceded. "They have a right to know."
Alastor made a grunt of disapproval as he looked over the four youngsters. He still hadn't told him or Harry a word about what had happened to Hermione last school year even though he had seen everything. If what Sirius had said a couple months ago was true Moody hadn't even told Dumbledore everything. He was holding out on what had happened.
Ron had tried to get him to talk about it before but whenever he did the auror would clam up and not say a word to him for days afterward. He also developed an angry scowl on his face and would mutter things under his breath. Most sounded like threats directed at Bartemius Crouch Junior but others... sounded worried.
It had surprised him the first time he had heard one. He had never seen Alastor look so worried before, pained even. And what he had said... it had terrified Ron and Harry - who had been with him at the time - in the next room over, listening through a crack in the wall.
"Couldn't do a damn thing. 'Won't even recognize her when I'm through with her,' he says. Bastard. Just keeps nicking at the skin and she... Hermione, I'm so sorry. Screaming, and screaming... 'Did you count how many times she screamed?' Not a single thing to make it stop. Just watch. Just bloody watch!" Something fell over with a bang and it was awhile before the heavy breaths calmed back down. "Knew I could see everything and couldn't 'lift a finger,' to help. I'll cut him into pieces when I catch him. For every single time she..." It went silent. "Please don't be dead. Don't let him play those sick games with her anymore. None of it. No, 'my little lion.' No more bleeding, no more 'sketches.'" There was a thump as he sat down. "Azkaban isn't enough of a punishment for doing that."
Ever since he wasn't sure he wanted to know what that was. What even half of those words spoken had meant. It was all cryptic to him, but he knew none of it had been good. Moody had sounded absolutely sickened by the end of the mutterings. As if he had been reliving the moments with every word.
Ron frowned, looking down at the floor. He didn't want to think about it right now. He just wanted her to be okay. Please be alright Hermione.