Official Fine Print: Nope. Not mine. The brainchildren of the mighty pen of JK Rowling. Just playing with them. Honest.
Magic Never Dies
Chapter 20
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It was three full hours before Hermione and Luna gave up their vigil. Harry's request had been clear enough and they had given it an extra hour. Hermione knew they had to go home to Hogwarts and get help. Fear clawed at the edges of her mind; she kept it at bay only by concentrating as fully as she could on exactly what she had to do. They made their way out of the cave and managed to help each other through the perilous climb down the rock face to level ground. Flying in with the Durmstrang dragons in pursuit they had not actually realized how high it was.
Not such a bad thing, really; Hermione found she still wasn't terribly fond of heights. It had been so different with Harry flying bravely beneath her.
Once clear of the rocks they made for the cover of the tree line and began looking for signs of the thestrals, hoping Xavier could take them beyond the apparition barriers around the school grounds.
They trudged onward through the snow in a generally westward direction utilizing Hermione's wand and a point-me spell, without a seeing a single sign of anything else alive.
"How do you call a thestral?" Luna wondered. "Other than having a nice freshly bloody carcass for a treat…"
"Hagrid does it, it's some sort of a high-pitched scream." Hermione remembered. "I might as well give it a go, I'm in a perfect frame of mind to scream. I'm sure I can give the impression I'm killing something nice and bloody. I've got an image all picked out."
Snape made excellent thestral bait; they were surrounded by a circle of the skeletal black beasts in no time at all. Identifying Xavier was slightly more difficult, but the wild ones were skittish enough that they quickly narrowed it down to two that allowed themselves to be approached. Hermione reckoned it didn't really matter if they guessed right at that point as long as at least one of the two was willing to take them where they needed to go. They clambered up onto the back of the quietest and asked to be taken beyond Durmstrangs' grounds.
The thestral galloped forward and left the ground with a mighty leap, thrusting them into the air as the leathery wings unfurled and caught the wind. Hermione was reminded painfully and powerfully of flying with Harry just the day before. Her heart felt trapped, constricted within her own chest at the thought of leaving him behind. She pushed the feeling from the forefront of her mind, forcing herself to focus again only on getting him back, quickly and safely. She began sorting through what she would have to say to Professor McGonagall, to Remus, to convince them that speed was of the essence. She didn't want to argue about why they had been portkeyed or about who knew what and when; all that could wait until Harry and Ron were safe. She just wanted them to help, quickly and surely, to step in and make it all right again. Well, as right as it ever was. She just wanted him back.
Luna sat serenely behind her, holding tight. She seemed less worried than eager to get started, to have some decisions made and some plan underway. Hermione wondered if she had some sense about what was to come, but found she couldn't bear to ask.
The thestral cleared a last band of predominantly evergreen forest and set them down beside the banks of a small stream. They slipped one by one from its back and made much of patting and petting it since they had no food with which to reward it. Hermione could sense at once the difference between Harry and the true beast; this thestral was entirely disinterested in their affections and simply raised its dragonish head, curling its nose and scenting the wind before moving off downstream.
"I'll apparate us just outside the gates," Hermione said. "I'm going to go straight to Professor McGonagall to get things started with the Order."
"Oh, never mind that, I can apparate myself," said Luna. "I don't really believe that the Ministry should be able to license us just so they can track our movements. They've dumbed down witches and wizards no end so they can control us. The Rotfang conspiracy is only the beginning. I'm not afraid of them, and it hardly matters if they pick it up now. I'll go alert the DA while you talk to Professor McGonagall, shall I?"
It was one of life's small epiphany moments. Hermione had always believed Luna's reasoning simply… strange. Unfounded in reality, a product of reading the Quibbler for one's primary source of information. In truth, relying on the Daily Prophet, even with a hefty dose of salt, had probably left Hermione little better prepared or informed. Despite her unlikely theories Luna was the one in fact actually thinking for herself.
"Er, good idea, but we can't just crash in there and think we'll rescue them, we've got to have a plan…"
"Really?" said Luna as they began to rotate into their apparitions, "Why ever not? They'd never expect us not to have a plan."
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"Harry?" Ron called softly. They'd been alone for some time now, at least a quarter hour or so, and he thought it should be safe enough to talk somewhat freely. "How're you hanging in there, mate?"
"If that was a joke, Ron, you're a sad, sick individual," Harry's voice rasped back.
Ron winced. Oops. At least Harry's sense of humor was intact. He rose to his feet and made his way closer to the door of his cell. He was stiff and bitterly cold in the damp chill of the dungeons; he could only imagine how Harry was feeling still chained to the wall. He could see his friend shift against his restraints in search of a position to ease the discomfort of his weight pulling on his wrists. His attention still seemed to be entirely focused on the charm around his neck.
"Er, Sorry. Wasn't thinking is all. Does that thing,… is it still working when it's not touching you?"
Harry nodded and his eyes rose to Ron's
"Yeah. Listen, Ron, I'm really sorry about all of this…"
"Shut up, Harry. Don't even start. We're going to get out of here; it's going to be fine. Really. Hermione and Luna are probably already back at Hogwarts rousing the Order."
"Even if I had a wand in my hand I'd be worse than useless with this effing thing on. If I could just get it off for a minute I could call Fawkes. He could bring the locket; we have to destroy it now, Ron. If he kills me tomorrow he'll still be essentially immortal. It only takes one."
"What about the cup, though, Harry? We'd need that as well, wouldn't we?"
"It's here somewhere. I'm sure of it."
"If we destroy the locket and the cup…" Ron said slowly. "Does he know that you're one of them?"
"You mean, does he think the connection runs deeper than just the scar? No idea. I should think he'd have figured it out by now though, even if it was accidental when he did it. I wonder how you tell there's a bit of your soul gone missing when you're already that… soulless. But since he knew what he was doing there at the time, the possibility of an accident should have occurred to him before Dumbledore figured it out."
"If we destroy the locket and the cup," Ron repeated, "and he realizes you're the last one, he might keep you alive, right? I mean without you he'd just be mortal again wouldn't he? Anything happens to you and he's right back vulnerable to an Avada Kedavra again, isn't he?"
"He'll still kill me. He thinks he has to because of the prophecy. Maybe he'll try and take it all back and start over. I've no idea what all the theories behind this are; I'm not even entirely sure there are any, which is probably why he got started with it in the first place. He was that powerful, he reckoned he could get away with anything he could manage."
"Not right away he won't, though," Ron insisted, suddenly enamored of the idea and conveniently ignoring the rest of what Harry told him. "It makes sense to keep you prisoner or something until he can figure out how. We've got to destroy the locket and cup and make sure he knows it. If I can find a way to get that thing off you, you can call Fawkes and have him bring the locket?"
"In theory," Harry said tiredly. "But I've been trying and trying and I've just knackered myself for nothing…"
"Then you take it easy and leave it to me, mate. I'll think of something."
Across the dungeon Ron saw a ghost of a smile pass across his friend's face. It hit him afresh that they were actually locked up in a dungeon, that Harry was chained to a wall. A year ago his worst worry for this point would have been revising for his N.E.W.T.s.
Effing Voldemort.
A strange thing occurred to Ron then. Once you were well and truly threatened, the thing doing the threatening lost its mystery and a fair bit of its initial power. No wonder Harry had been able to say `Voldemort' at such a young age, unimpressed. He'd been in the cross hairs already and had so little to lose.
Now that Ron was actually shut up in a dungeon awaiting Voldemort himself and his life options were narrowed down to living or dying, there seemed little point in being all that afraid. He would do one, or the other, and he had one decent shot at it. But if he could keep Harry alive as well, Harry was the one meant to finish this thing once and for all…. Ron couldn't destroy a horcrux, and he was pretty sure that Voldemort could wipe the floor with him. But keeping Harry alive? Ron reckoned he ought to be able to do at least something about that. And given what Harry had begun to be able to do lately, Ron figured Harry had at least a decent shot at Voldemort as well.
Ron was really getting tired of this whole shadow of evil thing. This was supposed to be his final year at Hogwarts. He was supposed to be having his best Quidditch year ever, figuring out what he wanted to do with his life and snogging someone senseless in empty classrooms. Someone like Luna, who cold still make him laugh in spite of it all. This dungeon crap was just not on the menu. He'd given up enough already; it was time to turn the tide a bit.
The sound of the lock scraping open reached their ears.
The door opened and closed again; peering through the gloom Ron saw the Head boy, Fraktor, and another figure. Whoever it was, they were shorter than Ratsel and stockier; Ron reckoned they were likely another student from the school. One point in their favor, anyway.
His theory was confirmed as the two moved toward Harry and began speaking.
"The mighty Harry Potter… doesn't look so mighty now, does he, Dolohov?"
Ron saw Harry's eyes spark at the name. It was the Death Eater Dolohov that had felled Hermione in the Department of Mysteries two years before; even if the name was nothing more than a coincidence Ron wouldn't want to be this one given the redoubled intensity of Harry's feelings for her now.
Dolohov the younger spit in Harry's direction in answer. "He is nothing. He has always been nothing. A puppet for Dumbledore. But since Dumbledore is no more, he will have to serve for this instead. This is for my father's imprisonment in Azkaban, you jumped up little shit. Crucio."
It was the son, then. Harry didn't make a sound, and for a glorious moment Ron thought that Dolohov had not properly cast the spell, or was not powerful enough himself to really hurt him. Then Fraktor moved, clapping Dolohov on the shoulder and laughing and Ron saw his hope had been in vain. Harry's teeth were clenched against whatever sound he would have made, but the rest of him was clearly in the throes of an effective curse, jerking against his restraints for all he was worth.
It struck Ron that the two attacks on Harry since they had arrived were both revenge for other family members caught up in failed attacks for Voldemort. Ratsel had fed them the party line about the glory of being there when Voldemort arrived, but so far it seemed the students were all about themselves or their personal revenge. Fraktor was disobeying Ratsel's direct orders by bringing his friend in to have a go at Harry. Perhaps Voldemort's sway at the school wasn't as strong as it first appeared. Another point in their favor, perhaps. Any potential weakness was a good one.
Fat lot of good that does Harry right now, though… Ron felt a scream of sympathy twitch to be loosed in the back of his throat just having to watch.
Dolohov ended the curse and waited just long enough for Harry to sag in relief against his bonds before renewing it. As his body surged helplessly again in its involuntary attempt to escape the curse there was a hideous popping sound and Ron saw his struggle become uneven, one shoulder suddenly misshapen and the still chained arm angled strangely from it.
Dolohov and Fraktor doubled over in laughter, apparently finding a dislocated shoulder hysterically good fun.
The spell was broken and Harry sagged against his restraints again, breathing heavily. His disjointed shoulder stretched under his weight and Ron watched as Harry, suddenly finding considerably more leeway to shift about… thrust and twisted his head down and clear of the floating medallion's cord.
In the length of a disbelieving blink of Ron's eyes, Harry's ankle restraints dropped away and his legs kicked up at Dolohov, knocking aside his wand and twining around his neck in a single desperate motion. There was a sickening crack and the boy slumped to the ground, taking Harry with him as the chains that bound his arms broke open as well.
Fraktor seemed stunned for a moment then clearly decided it was time to share the feeling with Harry. Ron watched without daring to breathe, his heart pounding in his ears as the wand pointed at his friend.
"Petrificus totallus!"
Harry managed to roll away from the spell and staggered to his feet, crouching and dodging the next as well. The dislocated shoulder seemed to render his one arm almost useless; the other scrabbled madly for Dolohov's wand.
"You don't need it Harry! Don't waste time! Take him down now." Ron bellowed, and saw realization dawn in Harry's pain-clouded eyes.
Fraktor swapped over to reductor and a glancing hit was enough to blow Harry back toward Ron's door. He seemed anxious to put some room between them, believing Ron was encouraging Harry to physically attack without the wand. Ron reached through the bars and grabbed what he could, heard Harry hiss as his fingers grasped the injured arm. He quickly let go and grasped a handful of sweatshirt instead and pulled Harry back against the door, helping him to gain his feet against it and hauling him upright. No words were spoken, but Fraktor suddenly hung upside down, dangling well clear of the floor.
His utter surprise bought time for a hoarsely whispered Expeliarmus to remove his wand and an Incarcerous bound his arms and legs.
"You can not…" Fraktor spluttered, until a Silencio finished his sentence for him.
Harry turned round, clinging to the door for support as his limbs uncramped. An "Alohamora" failed to achieve the desired effect, as did the next three unlocking, unsealing and opening spells he tried with Fraktor's claimed wand.
"Bloody fucking hell!" he screamed in hoarse frustration, at the end of his meager tether now. The door opened. Fell open, was more like it. Hinges and all.
Ron knew Harry wasn't the huggy sort, but under the circumstances felt that was really just too damn bad. A manly clap on the back looked likely to flatten him, anyway.
"Strange passwords they've got in this place," Harry said, not even bothering to fight him off. "Suppose that works on the front door too?"
The charmed medallion still hung in mid-air across the room, the cord dangling now.
Harry broke away and moved toward it - uncomfortably close in Ron's opinion, given the effect it had on him.
He passed his hand above and below it, murmuring, "Diffusium," The medallion glowed, flared
brightly and died out. "Hope that worked," he said with a ghost of a grin, "but I'm not about to try
it out. Let's get out of here."
They took turns attempting to open the door, Ron using Fraktor's wand and Harry now the younger Dolohov's. All the usual opening spells failed once again. Bad language was no more successful, although they had an excellent and stress relieving session trying the worst and most inventive they could come up with. It was not until Harry kicked it in raw frustration once more that it fell open.
"You need to cultivate your inner beast," Ron told him. "Save us all kinds of time. I know the way out. Follow me."
"You go," Harry said, looking wistful but determined. "The cup is here somewhere, I know it. I've got to at least try."
"Harry!"
"Look, we've bloody just knocked the door down, d'you think no one's coming? Go - I'll meet you back at Hogwarts."
"Forget it. Lead the way. I can't leave you here and we can't waste time arguing about it. If you were an evil minded Wanker, where would you hide the cup?"
Ron watched as Harry quickly surveyed their options: three hallways. One led to the stairs they had come down, one disappeared off in darkness, unlit and apparently unused. The last appeared to lead to someplace more commonly accessed; and Ron watched as Harry paused to sniff the air again. He was about to joke about not turning into a thestral in the hallway when the same smell accosted his nostrils, familiar and yet tantalizingly unnamable.
"Potions labs," Harry said, turning away. "Let's not go there." His shoulder brushed the wall and Ron saw him stagger again and almost lose his footing.
"Hang on," he said, and stepped quickly back through the fallen door. He grabbed the struggling Fraktor's cloak off him and used his wand to tear off a strip of the heavy material. Fraktor swayed above him, cursing silently, his face magenta.
Back out in the hall he handed the strip to a puzzled Harry and righted the heavy door, shoving it into place so that it appeared - at least to the most casual observer - intact. He led the way into the darkness of the unused hallway, took the torn cloak back and knotted it into a makeshift sling.
"Didn't Lupin put it back in for you last time? Maybe we could.."
"No!" Harry interjected sharply. "Tonks did it wrong and it hurt worse than pulling it out. Besides, Lupin said something about how my Dad used it to convince someone he was hurt and not a threat and then got it back in joint later and was able to surprise them. It makes sense. I think I could get it to go back in if I had to, let's leave it for now just in case. It's not so bad at all once it's still in this," he said, easing it into the sling.
"Alright," Ron agreed doubtfully. "So where too?"
"We don't have much time," Harry said. "They'll find us missing soon enough. We need to find…. Hmm. Do you reckon they use house elves?"
"These blokes? It's an all boys' school, Harry. Of course they use house elves, you'd be able to locate the place on smell alone else."
Again the shadow of his old grin ghosted across his face. "To the kitchens then. They may not give us any information, but they may not take sides and report us right away either. Do a locator on something you'd find in the kitchens and let's see where that gets us. I'm going to try and call Fawkes while you do."
Ron finished his own task and then watched Harry, his eyes closed and expression intent. It seemed to take longer than he would have thought; Ron figured Fawkes was giving Harry a hard time over something. Finally there was a nerve shattering "pop" in the silence and a single red-gold feather spiraled quickly down under the weight of Slytherins' locket. Ron quickly grabbed it before Harry could.
"Not here, mate. I know you've got to do your thing, but let's get someplace more secure first. We've got it safe, that's enough." He stuffed it into the pocket of his robes.
Harry looked like he wanted to argue but thought better of it and bit back his words. "Okay. Let's go then. Lead on."
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Professor McGonagall was so enormously pleased and relieved to see Hermione when she burst into her office that it took her several minutes more to truly take in what she was saying.
"Harry and Ron are at Durmstrang? Durmstrang?? My goodness whatever possessed you three to go there? Without a word to any of us? Professor Snape and I were beside ourselves with worry when you didn't return. And Durmstrang's gone quite dark these days if the rumors are to be credited."
"It wasn't by choice," Hermione said, glaring daggers at Snape. "That potion was a portkey. As soon as we touched it we were all transported there."
"All four of you? Transported together? What were you doing?" purred Snape. "I'm sure the boys of Durmstrang were delighted to see you."
At least he seemed not to know where the portkey had left them - or else he was doing an excellent job faking it, a task certainly well within his capabilities.
"It dumped us into a snow bank as a matter of fact. We had no idea where we were. It wasn't until Harry became a thestral and we were attacked by dragons on our way to the cave where James and Sirius and Lily had been that…" Hermione thought Professor McGonagall's eyes could get no wider without serious lasting injury.
"Hermione, perhaps we should call Madam Pomfrey first and then continue our conversation. Did you strike your head, dear?"
Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath. "I'm not going to attempt to explain it all now. The most important thing is that Harry and Ron went to go and have a look at the school and they didn't come back. I'm sure they're being held there against their will, and we've got to get to them as soon as we can. So please, can you call Remus and Tonks and let's do something."
There was a moment when Hermione realized things could have gone either way. It had not been easy for Minerva McGonagall to step into Dumbledore's shoes; she could run the school without question but had neither his omniscience nor, to be certain, his meddlesome tendencies beyond the school's walls. She saw her old Head of House turn to the Headmaster's portrait and raise an inquiring eyebrow.
Dumbledore's likeness raised two thumbs, eyes twinkling furiously. "Go get them Minerva. By Merlin I wish I had a portrait there to see this!"
Professor McGonagall sighed and headed for the fire. "I'll call Remus. We must plan and quickly. I imagine you wish to go along, Hermione?"
"Yes Ma'am," she said politely, enormously relieved the Headmistress now accepted the fact. "I do. And I will. No matter what."
It was at this point in Hermione's mind that Remus Lupin truly came in to his own as head of the Order. He listened without interrupting or displaying any real surprise to Professor McGonagall's explanation, then stepped through the fire in the Headmistress's office at once, wrapping his worn robes around him and brushing them free of ash and Floo powder, already focused on the problem. His eyes came to rest on Hermione and smiled.
"Just the one I was hoping to see. We'll get them back, never you mind. Tell me, when was the last time you spoke with Viktor Krum?"
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Harry and Ron had crept through the bowels of Durmstrang, dodging from shadow to shadow. It turned out, from what they could overhear here and there through doors and in one highly unpleasant instance, a laundry chute; that much of the school was tied up in preparations for Voldemort's apparently unanticipated arrival. The laundry chute had provided a quick, if odiferous and for Harry somewhat jolting and painful, escape from discovery by a gossiping group of students who had burst suddenly into the lavatory they were hiding in after finally succeeding in slowly working their way up to the main floors. On the down side, they found themselves back not far from where they had started in what was clearly the main laundry, but one major goal was still certainly achieved. They had come into contact with Durmstrang's house elves; and a more sulky, surly crew would be hard to come by.
Ron thought even Kreacher might have been depressed working with this lot.
The elves appeared roughly similar in physical makeup to the common British house elf, although these tended to have a pronounced greenish tinge to their skin and their tennis-ball sized eyes ran to an unhealthy seeming yellow. Their bat-like ears were smaller, and many were notched or forked at the tip. They drudged wearily about their tasks in the laundry room dressed in drab grey tea towels, and there was none of the cheerful chatter that had characterized either Ron or Harry's very occasional visits to the same facility at Hogwarts. The only sound here was the occasional grumble or put-upon sigh.
On the plus side, however, they were obviously disinterested in Harry and Ron. In fact they couldn't seem to get a response from a single one of them; try as they might, they might as well have been invisible.
"They need…dare I say it? S.P.E.W might actually have a purpose here." Ron muttered.
"They need Dobby," Harry whispered back.
"They'd KILL Dobby. His cheerfulness would offend them no end."
It was at this juncture that Fawkes himself appeared in a mighty gold-feathered flash and deposited that paragon of laundry rooms everywhere: Draco Malfoy. Harry was almost certain he heard the magical bird laugh as he immediately took off again on some other, obviously more vital, mission.
"That's it, we're toast. What the bloody hell is he doing here?" Ron stormed.
"We weren't keeping up with his laundry needs, obviously," said Harry tiredly.
"Pardon me, I'm having the most horrible nightmare. Would one of you pinch me? Because right now my eyes seem to be telling me I am in some strange laundry facility with Scarhead and the Weasel," Draco informed the closest group of house elves.
"Draco Malfoy in Durmstrang. This should be interesting." Ron observed.
"Durmstrang? What the…. ow! Get off me you pestilent little rodent." Draco hissed.
"House elves don't do rhetorical questions, Malfoy. Or irony, or humor, at least this lot. You asked them to pinch you…" Harry told him.
"Where is that overgrown chicken of yours, Potter? I've seen enough, thanks."
"Clearly he had something more important to do," Harry told him. "You're stuck here with us. You have two fabulous choices. You can help us get out of here, or you can be your usual pain in the arse and we'll all get to stick around for Voldemort's housewarming tomorrow. The accommodations will suit you perfectly if all those school rumors about you and whips and chains were really true."
Ron hadn't known Malfoy could get any paler.
"What exactly are you two doing here?"
"Looking for something," Ron told him. "Now shut it and leave it shut. We need to think."
Malfoy smirked. He no longer needed to provide the insults; Ron and Harry knew them by heart. `With what?' `Don't hurt yourselves trying,' That will be a first, won't it?'
Ron glowered.
Harry sighed. "We need to find a small, gold cup, about so big," he said, stretching the fingers of his working hand to indicate the size. "It's got two handles. We need to find it right quick, too, because the Head thinks Ron's in a cell and I'm hanging off a wall in chains with my magic blocked. Once they figure out we're gone they'll start looking, and then my best advice is just…run."
"You're setting me free?"
"There are anti-apparition wards round the school for miles. If you can get yourself out of here alive, then yeah. You're free to go," Harry agreed.
Malfoy grinned, and then the grin faded. "So you've well and truly screwed up again, haven't you?"
"Like Ron said, Malfoy. Help out or sod off."
Ice blue eyes narrowed. "Elf!" he called imperiously to a group of elves discontentedly pairing socks over a basket, "Bring me a glass of water."
To Harry and Ron's utter surprise a grumbling elf broke off from the group and disappeared with a pop, reappearing several seconds later with a neatly laid tray and three glasses of water. A small table appeared with a click of the elf's fingers, and the tray was thumped down grudgingly upon it.
"Thank you," Harry said cautiously.
The elf glared, and headed back to the sock-sorters.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Elf!"
The elf paused and turned about sourly.
"What's your name?"
"Ogby, Young Master."
"Ogby, we've been sent ahead by the Dark Lord to prepare the ritual cup. Where is it?"
The elf's eyes glittered; Harry got the distinct sense that he knew they were lying through their teeth and frankly couldn't give a rat's tail who won out in the end, the Durmstrang students or the strangers before him. Apparently there was a limit to house elf loyalty. Wizards were wizards; they might serve here, but they clearly didn't like the current administration.
"Which one, Young Master?" he asked.
"The golden one with two handles, of course," Malfoy bluffed on.
The elf shook his head. "No cup like that, Young Master. Not in ritual stores."
"Er… it's been years since it was used, the special one." Harry tried.
The elf looked quizzical.
"The one for little rituals. It's quite small, really," suggested Ron.
The elf shook its head. Malfoy mouthed `Little rituals?' at Ron over its head, and rolled his eyes again.
"The Hogwarts cup," Harry said suddenly.
"'In the trophy room, Young Master. Ogby knows it needs cleaning, Young Master. Don't blame Ogby. Ogby not allowed to touch the Hogwarts cup. No house elf allowed to touch."
"Take us, Ogby," Malfoy commanded.
"Never mind, Ogby, just tell us where to find it, please," Harry asked, crossing his eyes at Malfoy and shaking his head. The house elf would take them by the most heavily traveled path; they needed to get there as quickly and quietly as possible.
"And we'll need some clean clothes," Ron said suddenly. "These are…are unacceptable after traveling. Simple student uniforms will do."
Harry grinned at him, a real one this time.
Harry and Ron gratefully drank their water and split Malfoy's between them when he declined it, then took it in turns finding Durmstrang uniforms that fit from the clean laundry. This last turned out to be something of a task in particular for Harry and Draco; clearly the Durmstrang regimen of workouts paid off, or they were just really big boys to begin with. Either way, Harry wasn't anxious to go one-on-one with any of them. He hid his injured arm beneath a Durmstrang cloak, and reckoned if nothing else if it ever came down to it Hogwarts students would have a small advantage in the comfort of their uniforms.
Clothed at last and armed with directions from Ogby, they set off for the Durmstrang trophy room.
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Hermione was terribly impressed with how fast the Order could move when it had to.
After giving Lupin the last address she had had for Viktor, it was a matter of no more than a quarter hour that Tonks had him in the office ready and eager to help.
"It is not right, what is done at Durmstrang now. It is not school any longer, is barracks for Ratsel's Army," he told them. "If this means the school returns to what it was, I will help. And for Hermyonny, I will do what she wants. Harry Potter is good seeker also."
"Ratsel?" Lupin asked. "I don't believe I've heard of him. I never knew who took over when Karkaroff…."
"Got what was comin' to him, the…" interjected Mad Eye Moody.
"Anton Ratsel?" Kingsley Shacklebolt deep voice asked quickly, cutting Moody off. At Viktor's nod he turned back to Lupin. "He's only recently come into his own, maybe the last two or three years. He's not a Death Eater, not yet, anyway, but he clearly supports the unlimited practice of the Dark Arts and has done the bidding of the Dark Lord before. Worrisome, really, because it's not often anyone has dealings with You Know Who that's not a Death Eater first."
"He is…" Snape paused, considering. "A worthy adversary. He has the Dark Lord's respect, yet he was never really as cowed by him as the Death Eaters are. He plays his own cards close to his chest, but never hesitates to supply the cause with whatever is required. If he were to challenge the Dark Lord wisely he might garner a great deal of support. His beliefs are quite close to the Dark Lord's without the distracting… obsession, with Potter. If he caught Potter, he would turn him over to the Dark Lord for the glory it would bring him, but if anything were to go wrong at all, he would simply kill him without a second thought. I am quite sure he has no knowledge of the Horcruxes."
"Perhaps you should ask Mr. Krum the meaning of Ratsel's name in one of Durmstrang's native tongues," came a voice from the wall. Dumbledore's piercing painted blue eyes met their stares.
"Well, in German, Ratsel is what you say a riddle. A word puzzle."
A collective hiss made its way round the room. Krum recoiled, taken aback.
"Voldemort's given name was Riddle," Hermione told him, anguished now. "Tom Riddle. Oh, Harry."
"Perhaps there was magic after all in Tom Riddle's Muggle family, but generations removed from the English Riddle who unknowingly enchanted Meriope Gaunt. I never thought to go so far to trace it. It could explain much about his power, or nothing at all. But it would be well to know what you may be walking in to at Durmstrang." Dumbledore's portrait explained.
"Right," said Lupin. "Well, it changes nothing in the sense that speed is still of the essence. So this is what we're going to do…"
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A/N: Hi ~ okay, not to be mean again, but so much is going on with this that I realized it could take ages to get out up to what I had hoped, so I'm just going to do it in 6 or 7k word chunks. It's so much fun to write, and there's such a lot of stuff going on at once that I don't want to rush it out and mess up. I honestly think the wait will be worth it. Thanks for your patience, and I'll try to get the pieces out more often. As always, your comments are read and taken to heart even if I don't have time to get back to everyone. I appreciate them! ~ Lynney
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