Summary completely:
Thought of as a story of (hate? love?) Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy. In the process, Lucius Malfoy appeared, who demanded to tell the story of his love and his hatred. Thus, Narcissa appeared, who did not demand anything, but simply lived and loved. This is how Sirius Black appeared in history. And it all began simply: a walk in the park, a clear day and sparks of laughter in the bright green eyes of the Boy-Who-Lived. Everyone's moment of happiness was short-lived, but this color - Hope was remembered for a lifetime. No one can stop the running of time. Sentence: "Mrs. Malfoy" - and there is no funny, unpredictable girl; "Azkaban" - and there is no blue-eyed guy who never became great; "Dumbledore's Request" - and it is increasingly difficult for a seventeen-year-old girl to play her role, being with him every day; "Choice" - two Slytherin prefects. One blood. One way. Between them twenty years and the choice made. And in this insane war, when everyone was at the last line, it is so important to know that a flash of the color of Hope is about to break the gray mist. And then everything will end ... or just start, depending on how you look at it.
Chapter 1: The Beginning of the end.
The moment will come, and a clear day will suddenly turn into a terrible dark night,
The silent shadow of the prophecies foretold long ago will cover the world ...
And the cup of evil, swinging, will fill all hearts with its essence.
The main thing is to believe that there is a Friend
who will follow you even to hell.
Now it all looked like a bad dream, but ... that day was, and that night was. No matter what they say or think ...
It was the penultimate day of summer vacation, and the wild, incomparable joy of finally seeing her beloved friends, her only friends, overwhelmed the best student of the now seventh year of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. How bored she had been over the past summer! With what impatience she had been waiting for letters and news from her two dear boys! And finally, the dark and lonely evenings, watching endless TV series and inexplicable sadness were left behind. Now they are already walking in the park, bathing brightly in the rays of the summer sun. The bright sunlight reflects off the glasses of a dark-haired boy laughing at something. "Harry's grown so much over the summer!"" Hermione thought. Now she had to lift her head to look into those bright green eyes. - How much joy and light there is in it! How did he manage to bring all this to his seventeen years, having lost so much in life that others never had? The girl was surprised for the hundredth time.
She knew very clearly now that if it had been in her power, she would never have let him suffer. Let these amazing eyes always burn with such a joyful and clear fire. Green is the color of Hope. Let someone say that this tall, thin boy is the Hope of the entire magical world, and of the non-magical world, too; to her, first of all, he is simply the most wonderful and most luminous person on Earth. She had realized this very clearly in the last two months. So strange ... In all the six years he and Hermione had studied together, not a day had passed without thinking of Harry; she was so used to the feeling of constant anxiety that her heart, which thrilled with joy at the sight of him, became an integral part of her existence.
Then, in her fourth year, and then in her fifth, she almost lost him. The thought was so frightening that she pushed the memory of Harry's pale and bloody face away to a distant place. But they came back. Usually at night, when no one could save them. And then she woke up in a cold sweat and clutched the chain with the simple brass cross on her chest. This cross was given to Hermione by her grandmother. The girl immediately put it in the chest of drawers at her parents ' house in London: well, she, the witch, really could not believe it. But after joining the Ministry of Magic in fifth year, when they all nearly died, the first thing Hermione did when she got home was run to the old dresser in her room. The cross still lay under the photographs, and it glowed with a kind of holy beauty in the light of the electric table lamp. Hermione took it out and hung it around her neck. At first I felt an unusual heaviness: she had never worn any jewelry before. And then she suddenly became very calm. After all, if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back, there must be something to stop him. Hermione didn't know what it would be, but she hadn't taken the cross off since. They've seen death too often lately, they've even gotten used to it somehow: Cedric Diggory, Sirius Black, Dennis Creevey, Susan Bones. Hermione had always been afraid that Harry Potter's name would be added to this dreadful list. It was her worst nightmare. And he didn't belong in the here and now, when everything was so beautiful! She and Harry are walking in the park, eating ice cream and laughing, laughing ... Harry didn't laugh very often. The truth is, they say a lot of fun is not good. But there was no sign of trouble that day: bright summer sun, sweet chocolate ice cream, green sparkles in the eyes of a grown-up Harry, and happy laughter. Later, she wouldn't be able to remember what they'd been laughing about. There was an hour to go before meeting Ron at the Leaky Cauldron ... Or a lifetime ...
There was a sudden scream, a bright flash of light or darkness, and Hermione, who had pushed aside an urn with an ice-cream wrapper, turned to see Harry, who had fallen, and the four men who were dragging him into the medieval carriage. Then she was struck not by the speed and impetuosity of everything that was happening, but by the reaction of others. Or rather, its complete absence. Hermione had never been able to figure out what spell the attackers had used so that no one would notice the commotion. It seemed unlikely. Then she did the first thing that came to mind: she jumped on the running board of the departing car and quickly climbed into the luggage compartment, fortunately it was empty. There was no time to think about what she was doing. This black carriage with the silver crest on the door was carrying her best friend into the unknown, into fear.
The crew moved unnoticed. That it belonged to wizards was beyond doubt. Firstly, where did you see medieval carriages driving through the streets, and secondly, you could not see him - he was clearly bewitched, judging by how dashingly the driver wedged himself into the streams of cars and slipped on prohibitive traffic signals, and until now has not been stopped by anyone. How long it was before the carriage slowed down, Hermione couldn't say. It seemed like an eternity, but judging by the wrist watch Harry had given her on her sixteenth birthday, forty-two minutes had passed. The carriage stopped at a huge wrought-iron gate, beyond which a well-tended garden could be seen. An ancient castle towered in the distance. The first thing Hermione was surprised at was that she was surrounded by completely different vegetation, as if this place was far from London. The castle, like a ghostly warrior, rose against the backdrop of the setting sun and the slowly darkening sky. The setting sun? But, when they walked in the park, it was about twelve o'clock in the afternoon, and they did not go at all for a long time! What's happening?
Meanwhile, the gates with a beautiful old coat of arms on the sash opened, and the carriage, thudding wheels, rolled down the cobblestone driveway. Coat of arms? Exactly the same was on the carriage doors. So the kidnappers brought the victim to their home?
The ornate letter "M" was depicted on the coat of arms, which was wrapped around the arms-paws of some animal-people? The letter "M"! Hermione knew only one witchcraft family, rich and ancient enough to live in such a dwelling, the initial letter of the last name of which was the notorious "M" ... Bad business.
The crew stopped. Four people came out of it, carrying with them something resembling a body in outline. I must say, they were not too ceremonious. Their burden was constantly faced with all sorts of obstacles in the form of a carriage door, curbs, the jamb of some creepy door. Not a sound came from the bundle in the kidnappers' arms. Is her poor Harry still alive? Most likely, yes, otherwise, why would they drag him with them. Hermione didn't want to think about their motives. From this, for some reason, my head began to spin, and it sucked in my stomach. Great ... Now what to do? Climbing out from under the canopy covering the space for the suitcases, Hermione looked around. Directly opposite there was a small door through which the kidnappers dragged their victim. Should I follow them? But this is stupid ... She is completely disoriented here. It's good to have at least a wand with you. Although this is little consolation.
Taking a deep breath, Hermione had already decided to make a reconnaissance in the area when a distraction appeared in the backyard of the estate in the form of ... a man? A black cloak, a hood dropped over the face, an incredibly white hand can be seen in the folds of the sleeve. Like a dead body. But the dead cannot move, and they cannot have such red eyes, bloodshot ... the blood of numerous victims. He said something to his companion - the unforgettable Lucius Malfoy, whom Hermione recognized immediately. The speaker's voice was like the hiss of a snake. At this time, they passed the carriage, and the lurking Hermione breathed such universal cold, as if it was not a nice August day around, but at least Christmas frosts. But there was no place here for the Christmas holiday and fun. There was a feeling that there was no place for joy in this castle at all.
Both figures disappeared into the doorway, and then Hermione broke down. She ran as best she could, not making out the road, not looking back, as if all the demons of this world were chasing after her. There really were a lot of dark forces here - she correctly noted that. But Hermione was wrong about one thing. No one was chasing her at all - at that time everyone was busy with the prisoner.
Bumping into a door, Hermione found herself in a utility room filled with bottles, baskets and other utensils. At the far end of the room was another door that led into a dark corridor. Poorly understanding what she was doing, Hermione ran down the hallway. It seemed that this terrible house lived its own life: rustles, whispers, knocks were heard from everywhere. It was as if the souls of people killed in its dungeons were knocking on every door and every window of the old castle. Although, perhaps it was only the imagination of a poor frightened girl. Suddenly, the door, past which Hermione had safely run a second ago, began to creak open. In horror, the girl turned into the adjoining corridor and ran faster, although earlier it seemed that faster is already impossible. It seemed to her that all the inhabitants of the castle heard the deafening pounding of her heart, and every second she was waiting for the chase.
Turn. Steps upward, because someone is already climbing from below. Another turn to the left. A platform hung with tapestries. Another twist. The only sound was the sound of blood in my ears. Turn, corridor. This corridor was much lighter and more comfortable, perhaps. From the walls, generations of Malfoys gazed at her with indifference. If Hermione had time to stop and look closely at the portraits, she would have noticed the amazing beauty of all the women of the Malfoy family. And if she had also turned down the floor and entered the first door along the corridor, she would have found herself in a huge library, where, in addition to many books from various fields of magic and working documents of the owner of the castle, there was a tapestry with the Malfoy family tree. Then it would become clear that the genus has blond hair and eyes the color of an autumn morning. Several generations ago, the famous Miranda the Bright was in the Malfoy family, perhaps the most famous Veela in the wizarding world. Her blood was so strong that six generations later, the only descendant of the Malfoy family was so different from the others.
But Hermione couldn't know any of this, and she didn't want to, because it was at that moment that she clearly heard footsteps behind her back and realized that she had driven herself into a trap. The torchlit corridor ended in a dead end. Rather, a huge full-width window, but, according to rough estimates, Hermione was on the third floor, if not on the fourth. So the window was automatically excluded from the list of paths to rescue. Behind the steps are becoming clearer and clearer, and there is nowhere to go but through this door. Door! Hermione darted to the door, silently begging Merlin to open it. Apparently, Merlin heeded the pleas of the best student at Hogwarts. The door opened silently and Hermione flew into the room. Trying to catch her breath, she pressed her back against the doorframe and listened to what was happening outside. No footsteps were heard. The man must have entered one of the many doors earlier along the corridor.
After calming down a bit, Hermione tried to look around the room. The picture that appeared to her eyes destroyed all hopes that the girl got into some closet, which they look into once a week - to brush off the dust. Despite the perfect order that reigned around, Hermione realized that the room was living, and the owner had left it only recently. It means that soon someone will return here. Perhaps very soon. Looking around, the girl tried to find shelter. To the left of it was a wall with a built-in fireplace, judging by the smoldering logs - active. It's a strange way to light a fireplace in August. Although here, despite the summer evening outside, it was rather cold and gloomy. The entire interior of the room was done in gray-green tones. Hermione wondered inappropriately: why do people think green is the color of hope? She had never seen anything more hopeless than this room. And this dense green color was not at all pleasing. Instead of the association with green grass on a clear sunny day, bright sparks of laughter emerged in the green eyes of a man who suffered in the dungeon of this hated castle. Perhaps this cold gray shade is so ruining joy and hope? How can you live in such an environment?!
Approaching the large window, Hermione realized that giving up the window in the hallway as an option to salvation was a very good decision. Probably the only faithful one for the whole day. It was on the sixth floor, as far as the lighted windows downstairs could tell. Why didn't she rush to send the owl to Dumbledore right away? He could have saved Harry for sure. And now ... Only then she realized with horror that no one knew what had happened. Of course, they will be looking for them, because they did not come to the meeting with Ron. Search ... The girl sobbed nervously. Well, who would think of looking for Harry Potter and Hermione Granger in the Malfoy house! Yes, we missed the summer and, without waiting for the first of September, decided to visit the most hated fellow student - to drink tea. The girl sobbed again. So, we need to pull ourselves together, it looks like this is already hysterical ...
To distract herself, Hermione turned away from the window and continued her exploration of the room. Antique wardrobe with a carved door. It seems like you can hide here. Huge bed: you can also crawl under it if necessary. From subtle details: like a piece of parchment on the table, an old book on the bedside table, Hermione concluded that this room was clearly a functioning bedroom of one of the inhabitants of the house. "Draco Malfoy," an inner voice sarcastically added fuel to the fire. The thought made the girl hiccup nervously. She immediately covered her mouth with her hand and tried to cope with such a loud consequences of fear. While fighting the hiccups, Hermione forgot about the danger. Reality rolled in a terrible wave when the girl heard the click of the doorknob. "Into the cupboard!" - shouted an inner voice, but all that was enough for her was to take a few steps and, bending over, huddle behind the bed, on the side opposite from the door.
The doorknob dropped to its base, and the antique carved door slowly opened.