Ron lay on the couch, entangled in his own torment. His body thrashed about as if trying to escape the clutches of a haunting nightmare, the terrors of which remained unseen to anyone but him.
Suddenly, a soft voice pierced through the darkness, cutting through the veil of fear that gripped Ron's subconscious. "Ron!" Astoria's voice echoed gently, resonating like a soothing lullaby in the midst of chaos. Her delicate hand reached out to him, giving him a gentle shake, as if she alone could pull him from the depths of his subconscious.
As he gradually emerged from the clutches of the nightmare, Ron let out a groan of disorientation, his mind still clinging to the last remnants of the dreadful visions that had tormented him. "Morning already," he mumbled, wiping the sweat and sleep from his eyes. His gaze met Astoria's, and the sight of her familiar face brought him comfort and relief. He managed a faint smile, grateful for the grounding presence she offered.
"I am so glad that was just a dream," Ron whispered, a shiver running down his spine as he tried to dismiss the lingering unease that still clung to his thoughts.
Astoria's eyes glimmered with concern, and she instinctively drew closer to him, her warmth enveloping him like a protective shield. Ron's heart skipped a beat as he felt her caring touch, and he leaned in to place a tender kiss on her cheek, a gesture of appreciation for her reassurance.
"I really got to check on Hermione," Ron said, feeling a growing urgency to make sure his friend was safe. He rose from the couch, his footsteps echoing through the dimly lit room.
"Hermione? Wouldn't Harry be the one in more danger?" Astoria asked with a tinge of jealousy in her voice. When we are kissing, Ron is probably imagining he is kissing Hermione, she thought to herself.
Ron looked back at Astoria. "My nightmare was about Hermione, not Harry, but I will certainly attempt to check on him next."
Standing before the mirror, Ron hesitated for a moment before touching one of the magical crystals, just as he had seen Astoria do the night before. "Hermione Granger," he uttered, his voice carrying a mix of concern and curiosity.
An ethereal image of Hermione appeared before him; her features softened by the morning light. Ron's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of her. Today, she had put in some extra effort into her beauty routine, her hair brushed to perfection and a touch of makeup enhancing her already captivating features.
The sight should have pleased him, but instead, it gnawed at him with a sense of unease. She rarely puts in the extra effort to look good, Ron thought, his mind wandering to unsettling possibilities. Is she trying to impress someone? Antonin, perhaps? Yikes, he speculated, a tinge of jealousy and fear creeping into his thoughts.
Deciding to put his troubling thoughts aside for the moment, Ron touched the crystal again, this time invoking the image of his best friend and fellow wizard, Harry Potter. Once more, the mirror erupted into a dazzling display of fuchsia and purple fireworks.
Astoria's laughter filled the room, though there was a hint of understanding in her amusement. "He slept with my sister," she revealed, causing Ron's eyebrows to shoot up in shock. The news caught him off guard, but he realized he shouldn't be so surprised.
Ron stepped out into the hallway of Greengrass Manor, the opulence of the surroundings contrasting sharply with the unease that gnawed at his soul. The exquisite marble floors gleamed under the soft glow of chandeliers, while intricate tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of wizarding history and grandeur. But all the beauty in the world couldn't distract him from the nightmarish visions that had haunted his sleep.
"Good morning," Sophia's voice rang out like a sweet melody, her demeanor seemingly cheerful and carefree.
Ron forced a smile, attempting to conceal the turmoil that churned within him, not willing to discuss the haunting dreams that had tormented him. "Yeah, very well," he replied, his words a fragile facade hiding the truth beneath.
The weight of unanswered questions pressed upon him, and he found himself eager to seek answers from Antonin, though the thought of interacting with the former death eater, if what Astoria said was true, sent a shiver down his spine. "I was wondering, is Dolohov up yet? There are a few things I want to ask him about," Ron inquired with feigned nonchalance, masking the urgency that pulsed through his veins.
Sophia's response caught him off guard, her words dripping with innocence. "Oh, he went out doing some errands with my husband," she revealed, leaving Ron momentarily stunned.
"Any idea where they went?" His eyes widened imperceptibly, and his jaw clenched, a sense of foreboding creeping into his heart. Why would Antonin be out with Cyrus? The uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach intensified.
Doing her best to soothe his rising anxiety, Sophia continued, "Oh, they didn't say, but not to worry. I am sure they will be back soon." Her attempt at reassurance fell on ears preoccupied with suspicion, and Ron couldn't help but wonder if Sophia was truly as naive as she appeared or if there was something she wasn't telling him.
"Don't worry?" Ron's inner voice screamed, though he kept his outward composure intact. The distrust he had harbored for Antonin from the start was now evolving into an all-encompassing unease that extended to Cyrus as well. He felt like a pawn in a game whose rules he couldn't comprehend. Wizard's chest was so much easier.
"Sorry you didn't like last night's dinner. I hope this morning's breakfast is more to your liking," she offered, her words carrying an air of warmth.
Ron forced a hesitant smile, his mind struggling to keep the façade intact, hiding the turmoil that plagued him. "Ah, no, the food was great," he stammered, careful not to reveal the true cause of his discomfort, his argument with Hermione. "Tummy was just feeling a little upset last night," he added, his explanation a flimsy shield against the revelations he sought to keep hidden.
Sophia's expression shifted to one of gentle concern, and she leaned in slightly, her voice lowering. "Oh! I wish you had told me that last night. Could have given you something for that," she remarked, her words laced with an undercurrent of concern that seemed genuine.
As Sophia excused herself and headed towards the kitchen, Ron continued down the lavish hallway, his footsteps echoing with uncertainty. It was then that he crossed paths with Harry, whose face was alight with a radiant smile, as if he had just unlocked a secret treasure.
"You spent the night with Daphne, didn't you," Ron inquired, the unspoken question hanging in the air, filled with curiosity and concern.
Harry's grin widened, and he nodded in affirmation. "About Daphne... She wants us to take her with us when we leave," he divulged, the gravity of the situation evident in his serious tone.
"What?" Ron's disbelief rang through the hallway, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of urgency growing within him. "Speaking of leaving, I think we should leave ASAP. Our host has left the house, along with Dolohov. They went on an errand," he added, the air quotes around "errand" emphasizing his suspicions.
A tremor of uncertainty coursed through Harry's expression, mirroring Ron's apprehension. "Daphne did say she wanted to leave without her father knowing about it," Harry revealed, nodding in agreement with Ron's concerns.
Two conflicting thoughts clashed in Ron's mind like thunderstorms in the night. On one hand, Daphne could be an accomplice, a spy lurking in the shadows, not to be trusted. On the other hand, she might be a victim herself, in dire need of rescue from her treacherous father.
"We are not leaving without Hermione," Harry declared.
"Agreed, I just hope we can convince her to leave before Cyrus and the death eater get back," Ron said. They both knew where they would most likely find Hermione, the library.
A chilling mist enveloped Cyrus, drowning him in an eerie darkness. In the shadows, the fearsome snake Nagini slithered, coiling menacingly around his lovely wife, Sophia. A haunting voice, tinged with malice, echoed through his mind, 'She will make a nice snack,' Voldemort's voice taunted.
"No, you will let her go!" Cyrus cried out in defiance. But his pleas fell on deaf ears as he heard his wife's terrified scream, and the deadly fangs sank into her neck.
The sinister presence in Cyrus's mind intensified, Voldemort's voice now venomous, 'You will endure the Dementor's kiss, a fate worse than death. But not to worry, your legacy will live on through me. Your daughters will produce heirs for me, and you can forget them marrying well.'
Suddenly, magical suppression handcuffs materialized, chaining Cyrus's wrists, rendering him powerless. Just when despair threatened to consume him, a figure emerged through the mist. It was Dumbledore, not just an apparition, but a tangible presence before Cyrus.
'You have been a free man for far too long,' Dumbledore's voice boomed, addressing only Cyrus. 'I have all the proof I need. You won't be able to Imperious curse your way out this time. My condolences for your wife.'
As if fate reveled in cruelty, the snake's mouth expanded, swallowing Sophia's head, leaving Cyrus utterly devastated. "That is impossible. My wife isn't here. Dumbledore! You are dead! This can't be happening," Cyrus exclaimed, his voice betraying both disbelief and anguish.
"Dumbledore! What?" Antonin muttered to himself, shaken by the sight of the snake's grip on the dark lord loosening up. He pulled out a portkey, apparated Cyrus and himself out of there fast. He already got his answer and Cyrus wasn't doing so well.
Once all the chaos in Cyrus's mind came to an end, he breathed a sigh of relief to be back in his office. "Thank you," Cyrus said to Antonin.
"What happened?" Antonin asked.
"That snake eating my wife, magical suppression handcuffs, Voldemo. -"
"Stop! Don't say that name," Antonin interrupted him.
"Right. The dark lord sentenced me to a dementor's kiss, and my daughters…." Cyrus cringed at the mere thought of Voldemort being intimate with his daughters. He would feel more pride marrying off his daughters to a goblin over Voldemort.
"Sounds like what that thing in the vault did to me," Antonin admitted. "It started when you attacked the snake. I wonder if it is possible for a living thing to be a horcrux?" He spoke out loud asking a rhetorical question.
"I have no idea," Cyrus said.
"You helped me enough already. I suspect it is safe for me to go back to them and try to get some information. Bellatrix would have been the first to know if Voldy thought I was a traitor," Antonin said.
"While it is true that they won't be immediately trying to kill you, I wouldn't call it safe to go back to them and lie to the dark lord," Cyrus said.
"True. Can I ask your help one more time?" Antonin said. Then he explained his plan and Cyrus agreed to help him.
"But first, I need to check on Sophia," Cyrus said.
"And I will try and find out if my theory is even plausible," Antonin said.
Cyrus easily found Sophia, who was engrossed in the meticulous preparation of one of her French style breakfasts. The air was redolent with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the tantalizing scent of warm pastries. Delicate rays of morning sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a soft glow on the spread that lay before her. Colorful fruits adorned porcelain plates, their vibrant hues contrasting against the crisp linens and intricate china. The clinking of silverware against porcelain was almost musical as Sophia orchestrated her culinary artistry.
A swell of affection surged within Cyrus as he gazed upon her, the sight of her fully absorbed in her passion warming his heart. Without hesitation, he closed the distance between them, his touch tender as he cupped her cheek. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that spoke volumes of his love and gratitude.
A soft sigh escaped Sophia's lips as their kiss lingered, a fleeting moment of connection that conveyed more than words ever could. Reluctantly, Cyrus pulled away, his gaze still locked with hers. With a fond smile, he gently squeezed her hand before gracefully stepping aside. He knew better than to disrupt her culinary symphony, and so he allowed her to continue her masterpiece.
Antonin elected to keep his disillusionment charm going, as that would help him avoid an encounter with Harry and Ron. He raced off to the library hoping Hermione didn't put away all the books he organized for her the night before. He wanted to find out if his theory was even possible before telling her about it. He didn't want to look like an idiot, or worse, a liar. He was relieved to find the books were still intact with his bookmarks still in the right places. He picked up one of the books and started reading.
Sure enough, Harry and Ron arrived not long after Antonin. He slowly put down the book he was reading and stayed as quiet as possible. Sure, he was mostly invisible, but the books weren't, and he didn't want to get their attention with 'floating' books.
"Where else could Hermione be?" Harry asked.
"She is in a guest room making herself extra pretty today," Ron said with a bit of a jealous scowl. "Probably to impress Dolohov."
Antonin put his hand over his mouth to avoid saying something to that. No way, he thought to himself. If she really was making herself extra beautiful today, it was most likely to catch Ron's eye. He couldn't think of one good reason Hermione would give him the time of day if she were drowning in watches.
"That is ridiculous," Harry said. "We need to find her and fast."
"Yeah," Ron agreed, as Cyrus made his entrance, casting a shadow over their conversation. "We have to get out of here before Cyrus and Dolohov return," Ron asserted, his voice tense with urgency.
Cyrus's sudden appearance halted the discussion in its tracks, his inquiry dripping with a chilling calmness. "And why would you need to leave before I get back?" he questioned, his gaze piercing through their apprehension. His tone shifted, and a sinister smile played at the corner of his lips. "Just to set the record straight, you are guests, not prisoners," he declared, his words oozing with an unsettling sense of control. "You are both free to leave any time you want. My daughters might be disappointed though. I was actually looking for Antonin."
Ron's response was cautious, tinged with an air of uncertainty. "I haven't seen him since last night," he admitted, his words cautious yet truthful.
Antonin ended his disillusionment charm, revealing his presence with a resigned sigh. "Yeah, I am here," he confirmed, a sense of vulnerability underpinning his words.
"Your wife said the two of you went out on an errand," Ron said.
"We did, and we are back," Cyrus said.
"So, where did you go?" Ron inquired, attempting to uncover the truth that lingered beneath the surface.
"Back to Gringotts Bank," Antonin retorted, with a swift response. He resumed his reading, a clear signal that the conversation was unwelcome. "Not that it is any of your business."
Undeterred, Ron took a seat beside Antonin, his determination unyielding. "I admit, I am very surprised you said yes to me seeing that memory of yours for myself, but—"
Antonin's interruption was candid, his nerves betrayed by a nervous chuckle. "I didn't exactly say yes. More like I didn't say no," he confessed, his gaze dropping to the pages before him.
"Yeah, whatever," Ron replied dismissively, though the urgency in his tone remained. "I would like to ask you a few questions about it."
"I am a little busy right now," Antonin replied curtly, his focus unyielding as he delved into the text before him.
"Another time perhaps," Ron persisted, his plea laced with a sense of desperation. For a moment, Antonin's glare bore into him, a silent demand to be left alone. Eventually, Antonin's attention returned to his reading, the weight of their unspoken tensions lingering in the air like a storm about to break.
Hermione joined them in the library. She was surprised to see Harry and Ron there at all, but not surprised Antonin was the only one who seemed interested in the books.
Antonin's eyes lifted from the pages, a genuine smile touching his lips as he acknowledged her arrival. "Nice to see you again," he greeted, warmth radiating in his voice. Hermione's response was fleeting, a brief smile that danced upon her lips before vanishing, a secretive exchange meant for Antonin alone. "Question, if you don't mind," Antonin asked.
"Sure, you have time to ask her a question, but you are too busy to answer mine," Ron rolled his eyes, his frustration evident.
Antonin briefly turned to Ron. "Here is the thing. I actually like her." He pointed to Hermione.
Ron scoffed at that. He couldn't care less that Antonin didn't like him, but he blatantly admitting he liked Hermione was concerning.
Hermione laughed as what was unsaid but heavily implied wasn't lost on her. "I admit, I didn't like Ron at first either." She vividly remembered that day he called her a nightmare and pointed out the fact that she had no friends. "But he has become one of my best friends. First impressions are often wrong. What was your question?" Hermione answered, curiosity lacing her tone.
Ron briefly smiled feeling a sense of relief that Hermione didn't say 'I like you' back to Antonin.
"Did you find anything in any of these books about what types of objects can and cannot be made into a horcrux?" Antonin asked.
Hermione's smile blossomed, her eyes alight with the prospect of sharing her academic insight. "Yes," she replied, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. "Almost anything can be turned into a horcrux, really. However, there's a curious twist. If the horcrux is blessed with white magic, it can sometimes be at odds with it, rendering the horcrux defenseless. This is likely why the cup didn't attack us in the vault until you hit it with the killing curse. The curse severed it from its protective magic." She searched the stack of books before her, looking for the tome that delved into the things she spoke about. "And you know what's even stranger? A horcrux can even be a living thing," she added, her voice carrying a sense of wonder.
"Thank you very much," Antonin said in a tone that mirrored Hermione's own enthusiasm. "That is exactly what I wanted to know. This is going to sound strange, but I think one of the horcruxes is his pet snake, Nagini."
Hermione's voice rang with disbelief, her brows furrowing in confusion. "What?" she exclaimed, her expression a mixture of surprise and skepticism.
Antonin's response was a measured acknowledgment of the uncertain ground he was about to tread. "At this point, this is just a theory," he prefaced, his words carrying a note of caution. "When Cyrus and I went to the bank this morning, much to our shock, Vol— the dark lord was there with Nagini and several of his followers. I think he found out you destroyed his horcrux."
Hermione's reminder of their collective effort brought a lightness to the gravity of the situation. "This was a group effort. You were surprisingly a big help with that," she acknowledged with a touch of gratitude. Her tone shifted to one of mock seriousness. "But let's not tell Voldy about that," she quipped, a fleeting hint of humor in her eyes.
Antonin's playful snicker drew Ron's annoyance, his patience waning as he struggled to piece together the puzzle. "Naturally, he was furious," Antonin continued, his tone more somber now. "He was about to use the killing curse on the goblins, but Cyrus used a spell on the snake, and it wrapped around the dark lord. Right after that, Cyrus started hallucinating."
Cyrus grimaced, his memory evoking a sense of dread. "Yeah, I thought I just stuck that snake on my wife," he admitted with a wince, the thought of harming Sophia clearly unsettling to him.
"I suspect it was similar to what I experienced in the vault," Antonin interjected, his voice taking on a reflective note.
Cyrus's gratitude was sincere, his words spoken from the heart. "Thank you for getting me out of there. I owe you one," he acknowledged, his gaze resting on Antonin with a mixture of appreciation and respect.
Antonin's response was firm, tinged with a touch of camaraderie. "No, you don't. You were only there in the first place because you were doing me a favor," he clarified.
Curiosity and suspicion festered within Ron, his gaze shifting between them, his arms crossed in a stance of vigilance. "What kind of favor?" he inquired, his eyes narrowing with scrutiny.
Although Antonin fully understood Ron's suspicions, he refused to answer that question due to his own distrust of Ron. He could all too easily picture Ron sending Voldemort an anonymous tip about his betrayal, if he realized how important it was. He looked at Cyrus. "If you really wanted to do me a favor, could you make him stop asking questions?" He pointed at Ron. "Kidding."
Ron's lips parted, on the cusp of another probing question, yet the words remained trapped within the confines of his thoughts. The weight of his uncertainty lingered for a few moments; his internal struggle visible in the furrow of his brows. After a measured pause, he found his voice again, determined to voice his observations. "Like it or not, Cyrus did let me watch that memory of yours. Although Cyrus definitely wasn't a part of it, it still gives me reason to believe that something has changed," Ron stated, his tone measured but resolute. His gaze shifted to Antonin, an unspoken challenge in his eyes. "In that memory, even though you did kill two people, it was pretty clear that you didn't want to kill anyone," Ron continued, his words purposeful as he looked at Hermione, a silent reminder of Antonin's horrific nature.
"You're right that I didn't want to kill those two men," Antonin conceded, his voice tinged with a weight of remorse. "But I didn't like watching them get tortured for no good reason either."
The gravity of their discussion deepened as Ron pressed forward, confronting Antonin with his own actions. "Then during the Battle of Mysteries, you behaved like a complete psychopath, using excessive deadly force against anyone and everyone that got in your way," Ron accused, his tone laced with accusation. "Obviously, something has changed. I have my suspicions about what. I'll bet that was around the same time you met up with Cyrus."
Antonin's response was candid, revealing a truth he had long kept hidden. "I met up with Cyrus after that day. To tell the truth, when I first got out of Azkaban, I completely forgot Cyrus even existed," he admitted, his admission laden with a mixture of candor and chagrin.
Ron's chuckle was tinged with irony, the situation was not lost on him. His gaze turned toward Cyrus, a playful glint in his eyes. "Cyrus was your friend, and you totally forgot him," Ron noted, his words teasing yet laced with genuine curiosity. He hoped to pay Cyrus back for trying to turn Astoria against him the night before. "How flattering."
Cyrus's grin was unapologetic, his response light-hearted. "Sure was," he agreed with a carefree shrug.
"I was being sarcastic. I would be pissed," Ron clarified, his humor intermingled with a hint of understanding.
Cyrus took a moment to explain, his voice measured yet revealing a somber truth. "No, in this case, it really is a compliment. You know what prolonged exposure to Dementors does? It takes away all good memories and leaves you with only the bad ones. So, yeah, the fact that he forgot me completely says a lot," he concluded, his words a sobering revelation.
"Oh!" Ron nodded in understanding. "Astoria said it was Antonin that came to you. How—"
Hermione's voice chimed in; her curiosity evident. "I was wondering that too." She addressed Antonin, not Cyrus. "If you completely forgot him, what made you remember him or think to reach out to him?" she inquired, her gaze searching for the underlying motivations.
"Dumbledore," Antonin responded, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation. "It was right after that battle at the Department of Mysteries. Dumbledore had me dragged into a private office for a little chat."
"What," Hermione inquired, her voice laced with curiosity.
Ron's words were a declaration, infused with a trace of righteous indignation. "Probably about the fact that he almost killed you," he pointedly reminded Hermione, his grin reflecting his satisfaction in drawing attention to a truth that concerned him deeply.
Of course, Antonin remembered that day well. He went in with a grim determination that he would get what he came for or die trying. He wanted one thing. No, not that stupid prophecy Voldemort was after. He wanted something far more valuable, but, of course, he didn't get it. Once he realized getting it was impossible, he stopped using shield charms in hopes that someone on the other side would shoot to kill, but that didn't happen. When the day was over, Dumbledore had him dragged into a private office for a little chat and yes, Ron was right. Dumbledore lectured him about what he did to Hermione. He wanted to never see another dementor or Voldemort for that matter ever again, so he pretended to be as remorseless as possible, in hopes that it would sway Dumbledore's decision as to what to do with him. Of course, the old wizard saw right through it. But this was something he didn't wish to share with any of them, not even Cyrus.