cclxxxviii. the maze of mystery
"That was your plan?!" Hermione shrieked in Harriet's ear as glass came tumbling down upon them. "This is an awful plan!"
Harriet didn't have the heart to tell her she didn't have a plan at all. She had one goal in this instant: to get as far as possible from Gaunt and the Death Eaters as humanly possible. To that end, she hooked her arm through Hermione's and started running for the far end of the aisle while firing as many Blasting Curses in her wake as possible.
Cracks wended through the floor, slabs of stone rising, split by Harriet's first spell. The sudden shift in the ground teetered the massive, soaring shelves, and the prophecies fell like beach ball-sized hail. Rows buckled, collided, and glass orbs exploded as they bashed into one another. Worse was the noise. Dozens upon dozens of incorporeal voices all chanted together, released from their spheres. It grew so loud, it throbbed in Harriet's ears and threw off her sense of balance.
They bounded around a corner, and Harriet blasted more shelves.
Her scar blazed with agony. In the distance, Gaunt screamed orders at the Death Eaters.
A door waited on the far wall, smaller and less obvious than the large archway back the way they'd come. The first thing the Death Eaters would do was secure the entrance; the two witches weren't going to be getting out there. Harriet threw open the new door, hoping they weren't about to scuttle into a mystical broom cupboard, and let out a breath when she saw the adjoining room with several other doors. She and Hermione ducked inside.
The noise from the Hall of Prophecy dimmed when the door snapped shut. The new room seemed to be an office of some sort, populated by a few heavy desks, a filing cabinet, padded chairs. The Unspeakables had left their work out, a wealth of bizarre contraptions and thick tomes cluttering their stations. It was dark, and cold.
"Epoximise Sempiternus!" Harriet barked, sealing the door behind them. Panting, she then waved her wand over her and Hermione, quickly incanting, "Misceo Omnia. Evanesco Vestigium!"
"I don't—I don't have my wand," Hermione managed to remind her. "They took it."
"Fuck," Harriet cursed, shoving the prophecy into her robe pocket. She had her second wand on her leg, and she weighed her options. She could give it to Hermione, but chances were they'd come against a Death Eater very soon, and Harriet might be disarmed. It'd be to their advantage if she could whip out a second wand and protect them both. She was a much better duelist than Hermione.
"Okay," Harriet said, taking a deep breath, then breathing it out. She felt spots along her scalp sting with new cuts, and her shoulder throbbed where a part of a shelf had cracked and struck her. A wound above Hermione's brow oozed blood, and she wiped it from her eye. Harriet hit her with a weak Episkey. "We have to get out of here. There's no way we're going to make it back through that hall and escape the Death Eaters—."
"So we need a different exit," Hermione inferred, biting her lip. "I don't know if there is one. I think that door might be the only way back into the Ministry."
"That's bollocks!" Harriet groaned. "There has to be another way—or at least a place we can hide until help arrives. We've gone and royally fucked Gaunt's runes. That has to have alerted someone."
She grabbed a stone paperweight from one of the desks. "Calx Ferro." It turned into a heavy sword, and Harriet tapped her wand against the inside of her left palm. "Moderantum."
The sword lifted into the air, hovering above her shoulder.
"Let's be quiet and keep moving."
Hermione chose the next door they moved through, and when that door closed, she had Harriet Transfigure the handle's shape. "So we know we've been this way," she explained. "But it's not obvious to the Death Eaters."
They passed through several rooms in this manner, never finding an indication of the right direction. There were a dozen more offices with different desks, tables, or long counters. One room held elevated alcoves with tidy beds where Unspeakables could sleep. There was a room filled with pieces of old prophecy glass being studied beneath massive magnifying lenses. They crossed through a circular solar wherein resided a single loom as big as a house, thousands and thousands of strings leading off of it toward a bright, searing light above.
"They're studying Fate," Hermione said, sounding uncertain and perhaps a bit spooked. In the next room, she pointed at the wall covered in Arithmancy calculations and said, "They're trying to divine the future."
Harriet lingered there, staring at the marks. "Did they figure anything out?" she asked. Hermione shook her head.
"No…there's blood here. I—I think there was an accident."
They pushed on.
Harriet blinked when they slipped into the next room and found it completely covered in tiles—floor, walls, and ceiling. No furniture had been placed inside, and the outer wall had dozens of different faucets and taps. She almost called it a shower room but thought it better resembled a washing station of some kind. What the Unspeakables were washing that needed so much water and space, she didn't want to know.
Together, Harriet and Hermione started to cross the room toward the other door. Because of the tile, they heard when rushed footsteps echoed from the corridor beyond, and they froze.
Harriet looked at Hermione. "Get down, flat," she whispered, and Hermione did as told. Harriet hit her, and then herself, with a Bubble-Head Charm before muttering, "Fumos Duo."
Smoke issued from her wand and quickly filled the room with a thick, dense cloud.
The other door bounced upon the inner wall when it was kicked open, and two Death Eaters darted inside. The first, Alecto, coughed and waved a hand in front of her face, while the second, Amycus, grunted. "Now what? The fuck is this?"
"Who knows with all the strange shite they keep down here?" Alecto retorted, covering her nose. "This rubbish will probably rot out our lungs or grow tentacles on our arses."
Coughing, Amycus asked. "What's that spell for clearin' the air?"
"Redacto, innit?"
"That's not the whole thing."
"Well, if you're so bloody sure, have at it then."
Amycus snapped. "If we don't get a fucking move on, Gaunt's going to have both our arses, tentacles or no tentacles."
As the pair bickered, Harriet crept low through the smoke and turned on one of the faucets so a generous stream splattered on the floor. The handle squeaked as it moved.
The Death Eaters fell silent. "Do you hear that?" Amycus whispered.
Pointing her wand at the floor, Harriet murmured, "Glacius."
Heavy boots tromped forward, the smoke swirling around a dark sharp until—.
"Shite—!"
Amycus Carrow slipped on the ice, hitting the floor.
"Incarceous!" Harriet incanted—using the sword to swat a spell blindly fired by Alecto out of the air. "Homenum Revelio." The shape of the remaining Death Eater revealed itself in the fog, and Harriet fired a Stunner at her. Alecto went down in a heap.
"We don't have long," Harriet said as she quickly cleared the smoke, Summoning both of Amycus' and Alecto's wands into her hand. She shoved them toward Hermione, then cast a hasty Incarcerous over Alecto, and another Stunner on Amycus. "If they're already spread out and searching—I'd bet the others do a better job than these two numpties. Hurry!"
They rushed from the washing station through a corridor with several doors. Hermione used Alecto's wand to try a quick Point Me spell, but whatever magic lay over the Department resisted her efforts. They marked the door they'd come from and tried the one at the corridor's end. When it revealed a set of stairs spiraling upwards, Harriet dared to hope they'd found another exit—.
"No," Hermione said with quiet despair when they burst through the door at the top of the stairs and found yet another strange room. "This is just another section. That last area was devoted to prophecy, fate, etcetra. This will be a level meant for another area of study. We're no closer to finding the way out."
"How long do you think it's been?" Harriet asked. She inspected the place they'd come upon, a bizarre library of sorts, towering shelves in the room's middle surrounded by a ring of lecterns. It was bizarre because the lecterns all faced these large stone pillars, and there were foreign runes on the pillars that could be moved. In each corner of the square room was a pit on the floor, and glancing into one proved them to be very dark and very deep, leading who knows where. Harriet couldn't make heads or tails of it.
"I don't know," Hermione answered.
"Surely it's been long enough for someone to have been notified—for someone to get down here? We're way past Gaunt's stupid barrier. We must have triggered something in this Confunded maze." Harriet demanded.
"I don't know," Hermione repeated, shaking her head. "I don't—the Department of Mysteries is self-governed. Even if they were able to physically come down here, would Aurors have the clearance to do so?"
"Clearance?! There's ruddy Death Eaters!"
"Don't shout at me, Harriet Potter!" Hermione retorted, her voice strained. "I know very well what's down here with us!"
Harriet's lungs heaved for air, and she stomped on the anger that had welled up inside her. Her chest and neck felt as if they'd been flayed. Blood from her injured scalp made a tacky film on the back of her neck and stained her collar. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry. But surely Elara has alerted the Order by now?"
"She might not have made it."
Harriet's breath caught, sheer panic almost choking her. "Don't say that," she stuttered, refusing to imagine what might be delaying her god-sister. I didn't see Pettigrew or Alecto on the Atlas. What else didn't I see?
A shoe scuffed the floor.
Harriet raised a strong Shield, deflecting a thrown spell—Dark, sticky energy clipping her exposed elbow. She didn't have a moment to glance down at the injury—but she heard Hermione gasp and quickly recite one of the powerful counter-curses they'd studied with the Coven. The fire in her limb receded.
Antonin Dolohov emerged from the shadows, his gait steady and confident, wand at the ready. Harriet gulped. This was not Alecto and Amycus Carrow fumbling about in the dark. This was a Death Eater, and Snape had always warned her against finding herself cornered by one.
"They do not fight fair," he once told her. "There is no dueling with a Death Eater. They are sent to do the bidding of their Lord, and they act with all the viciousness implied by their name."
Heeled boots clicked on the stone as Bellatrix Lestrange emerged next through the shadows, her ghostly face appearing first, resembling nothing more than a smiling banshee creeping across a haunted moor. "Be careful with Potter," she reminded Dolohov. "She has something that belongs to our Lord."
Harriet spat on the floor.
Bellatrix's curse came flying like a whip—whorling, cracking—only to be snared by Harriet's sword as she Shielded against Dolohov.
"Incarcerous Duro!" Hermione cast from behind Harriet, nearly snagging Bellatrix—but the hag was quick. She blocked Hermione, and a vicious twirl of her wand caught Harriet's sword in a Contero, turning it to dust.
Meanwhile, Harriet countered two more curses from Dolohov and felt her exhaustion mounting. "Ventus!" she shouted—and it blasted the falling dust into their eyes. Momentarily distracted, Harriet shoved Hermione closer to the nearest door.
"Crucio!"
"Protego Horribilis!"
The Shield absorbed the oncoming Cruciatus—but did nothing against Dolohov's Cutting Curse. Harriet flinched as it winged across her shoulder and snapped against her cheek.
They've fought together before. They're trying to get around the Shield by casting in different spectrums.
"Declinatio!" Harriet's spell rocketed toward Bellatrix—then veered and collided with Dolohov, throwing him off balance. "Adhaerere Lentum!"
Her aim was off; she missed his face, but the black gunk fired from her wand stuck his arm to the floor. Dolohov swore in a foreign language when he tried to stand.
"Sanguis Fervere!"
Suddenly, the blood on Harriet's cheek and dripping along her arm began to boil. She flinched but otherwise remained focused, pained tears spilling from her eyes. "Protego Speculo!"
Bellatrix and Dolohov once more tried circumventing Harriet's Shield with spells on opposite ends of the spectrum—and failed. The spells fired back toward them at the same time, and Dolohov didn't Shield in time. He howled.
Hermione jabbed her stolen wand toward one of the towering bookshelves. "Moderantum!" She tapped the inside of her left palm, and before Harriet could figure out what she was doing, Hermione clenched her fist and yanked.
The heavy shelf groaned as it was thrust into motion. The Death Eaters only had time to glance up before books started falling upon them, and the shelf toppled with an all-mighty crash.
Harriet panted, her lungs burning, her sides tight. The fight must have lasted for only a minute or so—and it wasn't over. She'd thrown more than a dozen spells in such rapid succession, it made her dizzy. It made her feel sick.
"Harriet—!" Hermione snagged her by the arm, tugging her toward the now-open door. "Hurry, run!"
But Harriet didn't think she could run. Her legs felt leaden, her head floating from spell-fatigue and blood loss. Harriet's eyes darted about the room, searching. Bellatrix and Dolohov were already blasting their way free of the shelf. Footsteps came running from the far corridor—and Harriet knew better than to expect they were anything but more Death Eaters.
Her gaze caught on one of the pits.
Thinking quickly, Harriet turned to Hermione and grabbed her by the arm. "Run," she said in a rush. "And keep running. Try to use the Atlas. I don't know how well it'll work down here, but it should help you find an exit or hide if you need to. Forgive me for this. I love you."
"Harriet, what—?"
Before Hermione could utter another word, Harriet shoved her hard by the shoulders, and she stumbled back over the waiting threshold. Her eyes widened in surprise.
"Claudere," Harriet whispered—and the door slammed shut. Then—. "Porta Evanesco."
The door vanished completely, leaving nothing but a blank stone wall that Harriet turned her back to as she faced the room once more. Bellatrix and Dolohov came crawling from the wreckage of books and broken wood. The latter had ripped his sleeve off to free it from the floor. Rodulphus Lestrange came climbing through the archway over the debris, followed by Pettigrew and Macnair.
"Enough of your games, you little brat!" Bellatrix snarled, a nasty bruise forming over her eye. "There's nowhere to run now. Hand over the prophecy!"
Harriet had no answer for her, partly because she was out of breath, and partly because Bellatrix was the scum of the earth. Rather than standing there like a blindfolded man waiting for the shooting gallery to start, Harriet did the only thing she could think to do.
She took two steps to the right, threw the Death Eaters a two-fingered salute, and jumped into the waiting pit.
A/N: I keep getting a few comments lately that are like "why didn't harriet kill that death eater blah blah blah," and I thought it was pretty clear that's not in her character. Even in desperate situations, she's not going to go for the kill.
Harriet, wandering: "…"
Harriet: "Hermione, what if they want to find a loo in this place? What do they do?"
Hermione: "Stay off Twitter."
Harriet: "What?"
Hermione: "What?"