Chapter 27. Eisenbein's Intentions

"I KNEW IT! VAMPIRES DID THIS! I WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG!" shouted Ron shrilly. "THEY DID FOLLOW US FROM BULGARIA!"

"Please be quiet, Ron," Hermione said, her voice shaking. "I'm trying to find out what happened."

"Must you, Granger?" said Malfoy harshly. There was a thin tremor in his voice, similar to Hermione's, but it seemed to be for reasons other than fear. Slowly, Harry turned from looking blankly at Edmund to face Malfoy.

"Oh, I think I know what happened very well. . . . All your plans," Malfoy muttered as he pulled out his wand and pointed it directly at Harry. "I guess pureblood families were very disgusting to you, Potter. That's why you had those Aurors kidnap Slytherin children first and then kill them to keep their mouth shut!"

"Pull yourself together, Malfoy," Hermione said, hesitantly raising her wand at Malfoy. "Look at these dead people, there aren't just former Aurors here. . . . Crabbe senior — Markus Dolohov — do you really think they would have cooperated with us?"

"There are many ways. With the Imperius Curse, for example —"

"We're not Death Eaters, unlike you!" shouted Ron, drawing his wand.

"Yes, I see. It's always the same — only you're the good ones. . . . That's why you drained all the blood from these bodies, isn't it? Does it feel like our blood is tainted?"

"This is no time to be fighting among ourselves. We need to find them before they hurt the children," said Harry calmly.

"DROP IT, POTTER!" Malfoy lunged at him without warning. Harry fell to the ground, and Malfoy choked him with his left hand while pointing his wand at his forehead. "WHERE IS MY SON? SAY IT! TELL ME BEFORE I GIVE YOU MORE SCARS!"

"Stop it, Malfoy!" Hermione's voice sounded far away. Harry's mind went white as he choked; Malfoy's flushed face began to fade before him.

"Stupefy!" shouted Aberforth's voice. Then a flash of red light caused Malfoy to fall to the ground. Harry coughed and drew in a deep breath.

"This man's worth watching," grumbled Aberforth. "Your nose would have looked like my late brother's by now, Harry, if I'd been a few seconds late."

"Thank you, Aberforth." Harry took Ron's outstretched hand and stood up. As pale as the corpses around him, Ron's lips trembled like he was about to vomit.

"How in the Merlin's name did this happen?" muttered Hermione. With a disgusted look she scanned the bodies dangling around her. Harry approached the nearest corpse and shone the light of his wand on their ankles. They were tied to strong ropes that hung from hooks in the ceiling. Their smooth surface suggested that the ropes had been magically created.

"They were first turned upside down by a spell and then tied with ropes," said Harry.

"There's a jinx just right for such a purpose," said Ron darkly. "They must have used the Dangling Jinx."

"They all have deep scars on their wrists," Hermione said as she gently took Markus's limp arm and turned it around.

"There are bucket marks on the floor," Harry added, looking at the dusty circles under each body. "Someone stunned them first, hung them upside down and slowly drained their blood."

"See? Vampires are involved —"

"Ron, please!" cried Hermione. "This has nothing to do with vampires. They would have driven their fangs straight down their victims' throats if that were the case!"

"Then what would make someone else do it?" Ron insisted.

"Could the Dawn Breakers have been fighting among themselves?" said Aberforth. Perhaps because of his experience with the Order of the Phoenix, which began before Harry was born, he seemed the calmest.

"That could be," said Harry. "From what I've heard, Eisenbein had Muggle or Squib minions that he could use and dispose of later. So there's always the possibility that they were at odds."

"But Harry, could Muggles or Squibs have taken them all out without magic?" said Hermione. "Well, we all know how incompetent Crabbe senior was. But there must have been some powerful wizards here."

Harry couldn't help but look at Edmund, who had once been one of his most trusted Aurors. Although he had betrayed him and left him, his personality and skills had been admirable. At the sight of his former Auror's miserable death, he felt pity for Edmund and guilt for his late uncle, Horace Slughorn. Had he treated Edmund more kindly, would the outcome have been different? However, after the loss of so many loved ones, Harry had come to the realization that the only option was to move on, and there was no point in regret.

Then Harry noticed something glinting in the wand's light behind Edmund's limp body. Keeping an eye on Malfoy lying at his feet, Harry approached cautiously. Under Edmund's drooping arm, near the wall, was a small glass vial. He carefully picked up the fallen bottle, plugged it in to prevent spilling, and examined it closely. There was a silvery substance inside the slightly dusty vial.

"What is it?" asked Hermione, who had come over to him. "It . . . it looks like a memory."

Edmund's closed eyes caught Harry's attention as he jerked his head up. Perhaps he had done something to preserve his memory of what had happened here?

"How the hell did he get it there?" muttered Aberforth, carefully taking the vial from Harry. "It does look like a memory . . . for now, this is all we have to go on."

"There's a Pensieve in the headmistress's office at Hogwarts," said Harry. "Through the passage down here, we can go straight to the school."

"I'll follow you three," said Aberforth. "Maybe I can help you if you find some information within that memory. . . . Living in this town, I might've seen something important without realizing it."

Having instructed Susan Bones and the Aurors outside to collect the bodies upstairs and the unconscious Malfoy and to guard the shack, Harry went downstairs with Ron, Hermione and Aberforth into a passage hidden behind an empty chest. As expected, the new tunnel made by the Dawn Breakers, presumably leading into the forest, created a fork in the middle, but Harry instinctively followed the original route, recalling old memories.

There was a blur in his mind as well as in his vision, and his senses were dulled. Only the cold touch of the glass bottle filled with a memory felt vivid. As strong as his desire to examine the memory and unlock all its secrets, was his reluctance to see it. He shuddered at the thought of having to watch Edmund die. In fact, on the night Severus Snape had died, Harry had crawled down this very tunnel to Hogwarts, flask in hand, to see what memories were left for him. It was all repeated in similar variations. It never occurred to him, however, that he was any more prepared now than he had been then.

After a short journey in silence, they had emerged from the hole under the Whomping Willow in the bright moonlight. Instinctively, he touched the single knot in the bark, and the swaying branches of the wild tree above them immediately stopped. The four of them hurried to the stone steps leading to the front door of the castle. In the distance, they could see the dark shapes of Aurors patrolling the school grounds. Looking for the headmistress, Harry almost ran through the entrance hall and up the seemingly endless stairs. Just then, McGonagall came down the staircase and they almost bumped into her.

"Is everything going well, Harry?" McGonagall asked, her face filled with concern.

"Not really, Professor. Multiple bodies have just been found in the Shrieking Shack."

McGonagall covered her gaping mouth with her hand and said, "Who were them? Could they be our students . . . ?"

"There were no children among them, which is a blessing," said Harry. "A bottle of this memory was found at the scene, and it needs to be checked with your Pensieve."

"I'm glad the children weren't hurt," McGonagall muttered as she clutched her chest, her thin lips trembling slightly. "Still, such a terrible thing to happen so close to school . . ."

Now a group of five, including McGonagall, rushed to the headmistress's office.

"Did anything happen at school, Professor McGonagall?" asked Hermione.

"Ah, nothing serious, except that Filch got into a fight with Hagrid and came back bruised. That's why I ran into you on the way to Hagrid's."

"Minerva, didn't you say those two never got along?" said Aberforth from behind them. "Putting them together was a mistake, I think."

"That's what I was just thinking, Aberforth. . . . Mr. Filch is packing up and says he's quitting right now. I'll have to talk him out of it later."

"Maybe this is a good time to change the caretaker. Only his cat will miss him," said Ron maliciously.

The broken gargoyle outside the headmistress's office was asleep, snoring loudly as they entered the corridor. McGonagall transformed into a cat as naturally as she breathed and bounded up the stairs, hitting a brick with her paw when the wall slid open. Harry, Ron and Hermione followed her up the spiral stone staircase, moving upward while Aberforth stayed on the bottom step to keep an eye on the corridor. McGonagall, now human again, opened her office door when they had finished climbing.

"I'll be waiting with Aberforth in the hallway below. Please let us know when you are ready."

"Okay. Thank you, Professor," said Harry. McGonagall nodded from under her pointy hat and stepped onto the stairs leading down the other way. Harry turned to Ron and Hermione and said, "You two wait here while I check the memory."

"There he goes again," Ron said, rolling his eyes.

"We've been friends for so long Harry — you still don't know us? We always stick together, that's the rule!" said Hermione stubbornly.

"We'll be with you, even if it means being surrounded by dozens of vampires in the Pensieve," said Ron. "So what? It's just a memory!"

"They're right! Stop being so chivalrous and get to work!" Phineas Nigellus growled in his picture on the wall. "Time to punish the bastard who ruined Dumbledore's portrait!"

Harry strode over to the headmistress's chair. His anger and sadness rose when he saw that the back of the desk was empty of Dumbledore's picture. Whatever horrible images he might see in the memory he held in his hands, he believed it was worth it if it would help defeat Eisenbein in any way. . . . Harry took the Pensieve from the cabinet and placed it on the desk with renewed determination. The silvery substance swirled as he slowly poured the contents of the bottle into the basin. Ron and Hermione were also watching from either side of the desk. They exchanged glances before dipping their faces into the Pensieve almost simultaneously.

Harry's body seemed to somersault in place, sending him plummeting headfirst into a dark room. Once he straightened his wobbly legs, he found Ron and Hermione standing in front of him, also looking dizzy. Around them were people from the past who only existed in this memory. The layout of the bedroom on the second floor of the Shrieking Shack was not much different from when Harry had just visited, but the atmosphere was completely different, as there were no bodies hanging there — at least not yet.

One by one, Harry checked the black-robed men and women around him. His eyes were drawn first to Crabbe's piggy face. Markus Dolohov's long, twisted face, smiling mockingly, could also be seen in his vicinity. Harry's heart sank when he turned and saw Edmund Slughorn on the opposite wall. The young man was leaning against the wall, deep in thought.

"So vivid, isn't it? It really feels like I am here," Ron said, waving his hand in front of Crabbe's eyes, who was talking quietly with Markus. Of course, the two of them did not notice him. They seemed to be discussing something important, so Harry went over and listened to them.

" . . . Eisenbein will tell us soon what we were searching for in the forest?" asked Crabbe senior. His soft voice contrasted with his rough appearance as always. "Me and my men had to spend weeks getting rid of the damn spiders . . . three of my men bitten and poisoned."

"It was already clear to me what our needs were." A mischievous smile spread across Markus's twisted face. "Perhaps Eisenbein's level of trust in you is a little lower than mine."

"What — did he tell you already?" Crabbe senior's smooth, youthful face frowned, his plump cheeks flushed. "Don't be so full of yourself. I was serving the Dark Lord before you were born, boy!"

"That makes you even less reliable. Have you done anything decent since that time?"

Enraged by this provocation, Crabbe tried to reach out for his wand, but in his haste, his thick arm hit the wall instead, throwing him off balance. Seeing this, Markus let out a cold laugh.

"What is the purpose of our meeting here today, Mr. Dolohov?" A young man asked from across the room. "Has Eisenbein found what he was looking for? Can we take the next step?"

"Yes, I think today could bring some good news." The whispering in the room vanished as soon as Markus opened his mouth. Even Crabbe listened to his words, though he still had a grumpy face. "Once that happens, our first step will be to destroy the Ministry of Magic. Now all that's left in there is the blood traitors and the Mudbloods, which we can easily wipe out!"

People in black robes cheered and applauded the announcement. Harry turned to see Edmund; he was staring at the candles on the ceiling, not at Markcus. Small flames flickered helplessly in his troubled eyes. Then the candles on the chandelier swayed and the door opened gently, revealing a middle-aged woman entering. With her hands clasped in front of her and her graying black hair neatly tied in a dark shawl, she was a plain-faced woman with a shadowy aura about her. Harry recognized her face somewhat, but couldn't immediately remember who it was.

"Robby Leach, do you have good news?" Markus asked earnestly and the woman lowered her eyes and nodded slightly.

"Leach, did he say? Could she be related to Nobby Leach?" said Hermione, startled. Then Harry remembered where he had seen her. On the day of the auction at the Ministry, Robby Leach had surprised everyone by winning Bellatrix's wand and Umbridge's quill for a thousand Galleons. The face that had glared at Harry that day, filled with fierce hatred, now seemed so docile, as if it had never shown any emotion, that it was almost unrecognizable.

"I see now, she's Nobby Leach's granddaughter. Markus told me that when I was interrogating him," said Harry.

"Mr. Leach's granddaughter is working for them? But why?" said Hermione, looking shocked. Not knowing why, Harry just shrugged.

"Eisenbein has finally succeeded in his search for the Resurrection Stone." With her eyes still lowered, Leach said in a quiet voice. "The operation can now begin."

The Dawn Breakers mumbled, looking confused; they seemed to have no idea what she meant. A bright smile of pure joy could only be seen on Markus's twisted face.

"In other words, he became master of Death," Markus began, and silence returned to the room. "Neither Harry Potter nor anyone else can stop us now. . . . Victory is ours!"

Hermione muffled her screams by covering her mouth and Ron staggered back. The realization that what Harry had strongly suspected was true hit him like a blow to the chest. After all, Eisenbein had collected all the Deathly Hallows. . . . He was now on the verge of becoming master of Death, becoming invincible. Despite Harry's despair, the Dawn Breakers roared and pumped their fists with more glee than ever. Even Crabbe senior was smiling broadly, having forgotten that he had been upset just earlier. Harry was filled with doubt at that moment. Who could possibly have harmed the people in this room if Eisenbein had attained such overwhelming power? Robby Leach spoke again before he could think any further.

"I am here to carry out Eisenbein's orders. Please place your wands in this basket." Leach bent her waist so low that she looked like a house-elf and lifted the basket with both hands.

"Eisenbein ordered us to do that? For what?" muttered Crabbe.

"He will increase the power of your wands with the Deathly Hallows. Those here will be invincible in battle by his grace," said Leach politely, still hunched over. Then, starting with Crabbe senior, several wizards and witches came out and began to place their wands in her basket. Edmund and Markus, however, remained in their positions with suspicious looks on their faces.

"YOU FILTHY MUDBLOOD!" shouted Markus sharply, and Leach jumped and raised her face in horror. "It is a highly uncivilized act to ask someone for their wand in the magical community, though a mongrel like you may not have realized it yet. . . . Even the Dark Lord himself only committed such acts when absolutely necessary."

"But Eisenbein did —" Robby Leach began in a thin, trembling voice, but was stopped when Markus violently shoved her arm which held the basket.

"I will gladly follow his orders if they are truly his. Why have you come here instead? Where is our master at the moment?" asked Markus harshly.

Harry noticed that Robby Leach's expression slowly but clearly changed. It took some time for the emotion to fade from her face, which had been as pathetically frightened as a house-elf bowing to its master. Then her lips parted and her burning eyes were filled with a mixture of hatred, joy and satisfaction. Only then did Harry recognize the woman who had stared at him at the auction. Her transformation made Markus freeze, like he hadn't expected it.

"So be it," Leach whispered as she raised her hand and covered her eyes. At the same time, three small but heavy objects rolled in through the open door and hit the floor.

An intense white light flashed in front of them, accompanied by a roar like thunder. Even though it was only a memory, it was powerful enough to temporarily dull Harry's senses. The world seemed to be enveloped in a white cocoon, only muffled screams and hurried footsteps could be heard. There were several flashes of red light and a few wands flying by.

"Harry! Is being in memory always like this?" Ron grabbed his arm and said in a frightened voice.

"We see it through the eyes of the owner of the memory. . . . I've never seen anything like it," said Harry.

The white world around them suddenly darkened until it was completely black once all the noise had ended. Just as Harry thought the memory had ended, disappointed, a dim light appeared in the room and they all found themselves in the same place. About twenty people in black robes were hanging upside down from the ceiling with their ankles bound. Many of them were unconscious, distraught, and those who had just regained their senses tried to free themselves, but to no avail.

With a calm face, Robby Leach was picking up the wands scattered on the floor one by one and placing them in her basket, humming softly like she was picking mushrooms in the woods. When all the wands were retrieved, she pulled her own wand out of her pocket. Hermione gasped when she saw the walnut wand, slightly bent in the middle.

"It's Bellatrix's wand! How did that woman get it? I must have put it in the Ministry's storeroom!"

"It was put up for auction by Faraday. Robby Leach bought it for a thousand Galleons that day," said Harry bitterly.

With a wave of her wand, Leach conjured tin buckets out of thin air and placed them under each of the hanging witches and wizards. Markus, chained next to Crabbe, opened his eyes and twisted around when he heard the tin clatter.

"Mudblood! How dare you do this to us?"

Leach turned and smiled at him. "Crucio!" As she pointed her wand and shouted, Markus shuddered and made a face.

"You filthy . . . How dare you . . ." Markus muttered faintly and Leach pointed her wand again.

"Crucio!"

The torture lasted longer than before. It was almost as if Markus wanted to let out a scream of pain through every twitching muscle in his body, and Harry's ears were deafened by his cries. Hermione watched the horrible scene, clutching Ron's arm with a terrified expression on her face. The thought of the horrible pain, like being stabbed by a hot blade, made Harry, who had once been afflicted by the Cruciatus Curse, tremble. Markus dropped his arms weakly when Leach finally stopped cursing. Vomit and saliva dripped from his open mouth into a bucket on the floor.

"This wand is worth the price, isn't it?" With a bright smile on his face, Leach's soft voice was now replaced by a joyful, energetic one. "This wand is worth the price, isn't it?" With a bright smile on his face, Leach's soft voice was now replaced by a joyful, energetic one. "This is the wand that Bellatrix Lestrange specialized in torturing with, Dolohov . . . I can feel the wand tremble with pleasure at the pain I have caused you. It seems to like its new master already!"

Slowly turning in place, Robby Leach pointed her wand at those hanging upside down, making the captives all shudder.

"If Eisenbein knows about this —" muttered Crabbe. Incongruously for a man his size, Crabbe closed his eyes in fear when Leach raised her wand with a grin. Then a metallic sound from outside the room distracted her before she could cast the curse.

Clunk. Clunk. Clunk.

Harry had gotten used to the footsteps by now: It was the sound of Eisenbein's steel legs stepping on the wooden floor. A stiff expression appeared on Leach's face, jerking away. The upside-down prisoners, on the other hand, reacted with great relief.

"Your time is up, Mudblood," Markus said, his eyes narrowing.

It took two men to open the door and enter before Eisenbein could emerge. The first was a young man in his thirties with horn-rimmed glasses, short blond hair, and rather unremarkable features. The other was an old man in a red beret and dark military uniform who looked very peculiar. In addition to his left face being burned and reddened, his left eye had been replaced with metal parts that glowed red, reminding Harry of Mad-Eye Moody's magical eye, except for the color. In addition, a metal band encircled his chest and a mechanical device resembling a scorpion's tail was attached to it, twitching around the top of his head as if it had a mind of its own.

"What's that?" asked Ron, stunned. "Is this another Muggle-made machine?"

"I think so," said Hermione, keeping her eyes on the bizarre scorpion-shaped machine like her husband. "But I've never seen anything like it before. . . . What could its purpose be?"

Then Eisenbein appeared through the open door and silenced them all. All eyes in the room were on Eisenbein, including Harry, Ron and Hermione. He held the Elder Wand in his right hand, protruding from underneath Harry's old Invisibility Cloak, and wore a rough gold ring with a black stone on his index finger. Seeing all three Deathly Hallows in the hands of the enemy made Harry's heart skip a beat.

"Eisenbein! This Mudblood has betrayed us all!" shouted Crabbe senior triumphantly, shaking his fat finger at Robby Leach. "This is our chance to purge all blood traitors and filthy Mudbloods from our organization, I say —"

"Blood this — blood that — all you care for is blood . . ." Crabbe made a stupid face as Eisenbein said in a mocking tone. "You're in luck, for you'll see enough of it tonight . . ." Eisenbein pointed his wand at Crabbe without warning and shouted, "SECTUMSEMPRA!"

Blood gushed from Crabbe's thick chest and abdomen as though dozens of razor-sharp blades had sliced through them, and like a dying pig, he made a loud, screeching noise. Screams and cries of fear echoed throughout the room from the people hanging upside down.

"SILENCE!" shouted Eisenbein with a bang, and for a brief moment the room was illuminated by a blinding light, and all was quiet. A Silencing Charm seemed to have been cast, as people moved their mouths in futility. Harry could only hear the sound of blood dripping from Crabbe senior's thick arms into the bucket as it soaked into his robes.

"It seems everyone has a lot of questions, so let me explain," Eisenbein said, holding out his left hand. The man with the horn-rimmed glasses took three books out of his pocket and placed them on the silver hand.

"I've read these books!" Hermione gasped.

"Is this the time to brag about your reading?" snapped Ron.

"No, that's not what I meant! They are the books on Faraday's list that were missing from Flamel's library!"

Hearing this, Harry moved closer to Eisenbein and inspected the covers of the books on his hand. They were titled The Twelve Uses of Dragon's Blood, The Toadstool Tales, and A Report on the Historical Truth Behind Folktales.

"Nicolas Flamel, the creator of the Sorcerer's Stone, conducted numerous in-depth studies over the course of his extremely long life," said Eisenbein idly. "Among his extensive research, I was particularly intrigued by his discovery of how to effectively use wizard's blood. Using his own blood, Flamel had recreated a potion that strengthens the power of wizardkind, while it temporarily grants magical power to those without. The recipe for the potion had long been lost, but Flamel and Dumbledore used their combined wisdom to replicate it. Specifically, Albus Dumbledore discovered that the potion is particularly effective when mixed with dragon's blood, which enhances the properties of other materials. . . . Some of those ingredients are listed in these."

Eisenbein held up Flamel's book and motioned to the young man with the horn-rimmed glasses. The man then approached the bucket filled with Crabbe's blood, took ingredients from his bag, including thick red solution, herbs and powders, and placed them inside. Using a spatula, he began to stir the contents of the bucket, and Eisenbein watched the scene with intense fascination. Only when Markus Dolohov squirmed and opened his mouth did he turn to face him.

"Ah, Markus! I almost forgot about you. . . . Would you like to say something?" With a snap of his fingers, Eisenbein let Markus say aloud.

"Were we made your men because of our pure blood? So that you can gain more power with that potion?"

"It must be heartbreaking for you, Markus." Looking at his upside-down face, Eisenbein kneeled down. "Do you feel betrayed? Or disappointment in yourself? That your father figure is making you so miserable?"

Markus spat on the ground and glared at Eisenbein.

"I trusted you. . . . You promised to wipe out all Muggles once you became master of Death. That promise kept me following you!"

"Oh, I wasn't lying at all when I told you that," said Eisenbein. By this time, the young man had drained some of the sticky liquid into a small glass bottle through a hose connected to the bucket. Receiving it, Eisenbein waved the vial filled with crimson potion in front of Markus's eyes. "Your precious magical blood will allow us to open up a whole new world. In other words, once we've all become witches and wizards with your blood . . . Muggles would cease to exist in this world, wouldn't they?"

There seemed to be a pause in time in the room. Shocked, Harry stood dazed, his vision blurred. When he had said that he was determined to get rid of all Muggles, was this really what he had meant? To allow them to use magic, instead of killing them all?

"BLOOD TRAITOR!" shouted Markus when he finally found his voice. "What kind of traitor are you to give our power to Muggles? You are even more of a traitor than Harry Potter!"

"What a cruel thing to hear. . . . It's unfair of you to call me a blood traitor," said Eisenbein softly. He pulled open the hem of the Invisibility Cloak, revealing the white shroud he was wearing. Then he tossed one of the empty vials hanging from his waist to the ground, replaced it with the full one he was holding, and connected it to the tube attached to his torso. "Especially when I am a Muggle myself."

"Harry, E-Eisenbein — h-he's —" stammered Hermione. "He's a Muggle? But how could he be?"

There was nothing Harry could say. It felt like everything he had believed in for so long was crumbling around him. He couldn't understand how Eisenbein, who had claimed to be the heir of Grindelwald and Voldemort, could be a Muggle, no matter how hard he tried. Eisenbein took one last look at Markus, who was speechless and looking as shocked as Harry, and then turned toward the door.

"Draw blood from all the guests in this room. Once I defeat Harry Potter tomorrow night, we're all set. . . . Have as many potions on hand as possible for the upcoming battle."

"Absolutely, boss," Robby Leach replied with a grin, and Eisenbein stepped out onto the creaky floor of the hallway. She turned to Markus and said with a sneer, "Dolohov — thanks to your efforts, we now have plenty of Slytherin blood at our disposal. To show my gratitude, I'll allow you to leave a verbal will. . . . Any last words?"

Markus Dolohov closed his eyes in silent resignation.

"STUPEFY!"

A flash of red light from Leach's wand made Markus's body shake once before it remained still.

"Make him bleed, Colonel Fubster," said Leach. Following her instructions, the man with the scorpion tail device on his back pulled a sharp dagger from his waistband and deftly sliced through Markus's limp wrist. Blood began to drip from the wound into the bucket beneath Markus's unconscious body. Other prisoners watching the scene struggled fiercely, but no sound escaped their wide-open mouths.

"Don't you think the guests deserve some relaxation?" Leach waved, and the bespectacled young man pulled a black musical box from his pocket and set it on the floor before winding it. A sinister, tinkling tune emanated from the box, making Harry feel sleepy and weak. Everyone seemed to be in the same mood: The prisoners who had been twisting and struggling with their arms were now visibly lifeless.

"So this is how all those people died," muttered Ron darkly. "They fell prey to something worse than vampires."

Harry turned his head in Edmund's direction. His expression was relatively calm, though there was a hint of horror and shock in his eyes; he did not writhing in pain, despair, or exhaustion like the others around him. His sock was stuck with a wand when Edmund gently pulled at the right hem of his pants with one hand.

"Wow, he had a hidden wand?" Hermione marveled, and Harry nodded in agreement.

"Edmund was always thorough. I've seen him keep a spare wand in there before."

With no one looking at him, Edmund quickly pulled the spare wand out of his right sock. Robby Leach knocked out those who had not fallen asleep despite the discouraging tune of the musical box. Colonel Fubster was slashing the wrists of the Stunned ones with a dagger as he followed her, and the young man with the horn-rimmed glasses was pouring and stirring various ingredients into buckets that were dripping with blood. At first Edmund aimed his wand at Leach's back, but changed his mind and pointed at the floor instead.

"Accio Vial!" whispered Edmund, and the empty glass vial that Eisenbein had just tossed from his waist flew into Edmund's grasp. A silvery thread fell from Edmund's head into the bottle as he pointed his wand at his scalp. Harry prayed in vain for a miracle to save the poor young man, even though he knew his fate.

At that moment, the scorpion tail machine behind Fubster's back jerked around and fired an intense beam of red light right at Edmund's wrist, causing him to drop his wand and let out a small scream. Having just been struck by the beam, the back of his hand was badly burned and black smoke billowed from it. Robby Leach turned to Edmund and laughed aloud when she realized the situation.

"Oh, this boy seems here well prepared. . . . Would you mind taking care of him first, Colonel?"

Knowing he was about to die, Edmund looked perfectly composed while his executioners approached. There was still a thin white cord protruding from his head, leading to the glass bottle he had hidden in his left hand. Fortunately, Leach and Fubster didn't seem to have noticed it yet.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter," Edmund muttered in a whisper, seemingly knowing that Harry was standing in front of him in his last memory. Knowing it was pointless, Harry still tried to stop Leach, but she passed him like a puff of smoke and pointed her wand at Edmund.

"Stupefy!"

There was a flash of bright red light, then everything went black in an instant. Harry felt his body rise in the darkness, out of the Pensieve and into the brutal world.