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â€œRon! Ron!â€ Hermione called, half sobbing as she and Harry were buffered by terrified guests: Harry seized her hand to make sure they werenâ€™t separated as a streak of light whizzed over their heads, whether a protective charm or something more sinister he did not know â€“.prom girl dresses.
And then Ron was there. He caught hold of Hermioneâ€™s free arm, and Harry felt her turn on the spot; sight and sound were extinguished as darkness pressed in upon him; all he could feel was Hermioneâ€™s hand as he was squeezed through space and time, away from the Burrow, away from the descending Death Eaters, away, perhaps, from Voldemort himselfâ€¦..sexy prom dresses.
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â€œTottenham Court Road,â€ panted Hermione. â€œWalk, just walk, we need to find somewhere for you to change.â€.cartier juste un clou replica.
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â€œYes, theyâ€™re here,â€ said Hermione, and to Harry and Ronâ€™s utter astonishment, she pulled out a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, some maroon socks, and finally the silvery Invisibility Cloak.
â€œHow the ruddy hell â€“?â€
â€œUndetectable Extension Charm,â€ said Hermione. â€œTricky, but I think Iâ€™ve done it okay; anyway, I managed to fit everything we need in here.â€ She gave the fragile-looking bag a little shake and it echoed like a cargo hold as a number of heavy objects rolled around inside it. â€œOh, damn, thatâ€™ll be the books,â€ she said, peering into it, â€œand I had them all stacked by subjectâ€¦. Oh wellâ€¦. Harry, youâ€™d better take the Invisibility Cloak. Ron, hurry up and changeâ€¦.â€
â€œWhen did you do all this?â€ Harry asked as Ron stripped off his robes.
â€œI told you at the Burrow, Iâ€™ve had the essentials packed for days, you know, in case we needed to make a quick getaway. I packed your rucksack this morning, Harry, after you changed, and put it in hereâ€¦. I just had a feelingâ€¦.â€
â€œYouâ€™re amazing, you are,â€ said Ron, handing her his bundled-up robes.
â€œThank you,â€ said Hermione, managing a small smile as she pushed the robes into the bag. â€œPlease, Harry, get that Cloak on!â€
Harry threw his Invisibility Cloak around his shoulders and pulled it up over his head, vanishing from sight. He was only just beginning to appreciate what had happened.
â€œThe others â€“ everybody at the wedding â€“ â€
â€œWe canâ€™t worry about that now,â€ whispered Hermione. â€œItâ€™s you theyâ€™re after, Harry, and weâ€™ll just put everyone in even more danger by going back.â€
â€œSheâ€™s right,â€ said Ron, who seemed to know that Harry was about to argue, even if he could not see his face. â€œMost of the Order was there, theyâ€™ll look after everyone.â€
Harry nodded, then remembered that they could not see him, and said, â€œYeah.â€ But he thought of Ginny, and fear bubbled like acid in his stomach.
â€œCome on, I think we ought to keep moving,â€ said Hermione.
They moved back up the side street and onto the main road again, where a group of men on the opposite side was singing and weaving across the pavement.
â€œJust as a matter of interest, why Tottenham Court Road?â€ Ron asked Hermione.
â€œIâ€™ve no idea, it just popped into my head, but Iâ€™m sure weâ€™re safer out in the Muggle world, itâ€™s not where theyâ€™ll expect us to be.â€
â€œTrue,â€ said Ron, looking around, â€œbut donâ€™t you feel a bit â€“ exposed?â€
â€œWhere else is there?â€ asked Hermione, cringing as the men on the other side of the road started wolf-whistling at her. â€œWe can hardly book rooms at the Leaky Cauldron, can we? And Grimmauld Place is out if Snape can get in thereâ€¦. I suppose we could try my parentsâ€™ home, though I think thereâ€™s a chance they might check thereâ€¦. Oh, I wish theyâ€™d shut up!â€
â€œAll right, darling?â€ the drunkest of the men on the other pavement was yelling. â€œFancy a drink? Ditch ginger and come and have a pint!â€
â€œLetâ€™s sit down somewhere,â€ Hermione said hastily as Ron opened his mouth to shout back across the road. â€œLook, this will do, in here!â€
It was a small and shabby all-night cafÃ©. A light layer of grease lay on all the Formica-topped tables, but it was at least empty. Harry slipped into a booth first and Ron sat next to him opposite Hermione, who had her back to the entrance and did not like it: She glanced over her shoulder so frequently she appeared to have a twitch. Harry did not like being stationary; walking had given the illusion that they had a goal. Beneath the Cloak he could feel the last vestiges of Polyjuice leaving him, his hands returning to their usual length and shape. He pulled his glasses out of his pocket and put them on again.
After a minute or two, Ron said, â€œYou know, weâ€™re not far from the Leaky Cauldron here, itâ€™s only in Charing Cross â€“ â€
â€œRon, we canâ€™t!â€ said Hermione at once.
â€œNot to stay there, but to find out whatâ€™s going on!â€
â€œWe know whatâ€™s going on! Voldemortâ€™s taken over the Ministry, what else do we need to know?â€
â€œOkay, okay, it was just an idea!â€
They relapsed into a prickly silence. The gum-chewing waitress shuffled over and Hermione ordered two cappuccinos: As Harry was invisible, it would have looked odd to order him one. A pair of burly workmen entered the cafÃ© and squeezed into the next booth. Hermione dropped her voice to a whisper.
â€œI say we find a quiet place to Disapparate and head for the countryside. Once weâ€™re there, we could send a message to the Order.â€
â€œCan you do that talking Patronus thing, then?â€ asked Ron.
â€œIâ€™ve been practicing and I think so,â€ said Hermione.
â€œWell, as long as it doesnâ€™t get them into trouble, though they mightâ€™ve been arrested already. God, thatâ€™s revolting,â€ Ron added after one sip of the foamy, grayish coffee. The waitress had heard; she shot Ron a nasty look as she shuffled off to take the new customersâ€™ orders. The larger of the two workmen, who was blond and quite huge, now that Harry came to look at him, waved her away. She stared, affronted.
â€œLetâ€™s get going, then, I donâ€™t want to drink this muck,â€ said Ron. â€œHermione, have you got Muggle money to pay for this?â€
â€œYes, I took out all my Building Society savings before I came to the Burrow. Iâ€™ll bet all the change is at the bottom,â€ sighed Hermione, reaching for her beaded bag.
The two workmen made identical movements, and Harry mirrored them without conscious thought: All three of them drew their wands. Ron, a few seconds late in realizing what was going on, lunged across the table, pushing Hermione sideways onto her bench. The force of the Death Eatersâ€™ spells shattered the tiled wall where Ronâ€™s head had just been, as Harry, still invisible, yelled, â€œStupefy!â€
The great blond Death Eater was hit in the face by a jet of red light: He slumped sideways, unconscious. His companion, unable to see who had cast the spell, fired another at Ron: Shining black ropes flew from his wand-tip and bound Ron head to foot â€“ the waitress screamed and ran for the door â€“ Harry sent another Stunning Spell at the Death Eater with the twisted face who had tied up Ron, but the spell missed, rebounded on the window, and hit the waitress, who collapsed in front of the door.
â€œExpulso!â€ bellowed the Death Eater, and the table behind which Harry was standing blew up: The force of the explosion slammed him into the wall and he felt his wand leave his hand as the Cloak slipped off him.
â€œPetrificus Totalus!â€ screamed Hermione from out of sight, and the Death Eater fell forward like a statue to land with a crunching thud on the mess of broken china, table, and coffee. Hermione crawled out from underneath the bench, shaking bits of glass ashtray out of her hair and trembling all over.
â€œD-diffindo,â€ she said, pointing her wand at Ron, who roared in pain as she slashed open the knee of his jeans, leaving a deep cut. â€œOh, Iâ€™m so sorry, Ron, my handâ€™s shaking! Diffindo!â€
The severed ropes fell away. Ron got to his feet, shaking his arms to regain feeling in them. Harry picked up his wand and climbed over all the debris to where the large blond Death Eater was sprawled across the bench.
â€œI shouldâ€™ve recognized him, he was there the night Dumbledore died,â€ he said. He turned over the darker Death Eater with his foot; the manâ€™s eyes moved rapidly between Harry, Ron and Hermione.
â€œThatâ€™s Dolohov,â€ said Ron. â€œI recognize him from the old wanted posters. I think the big oneâ€™s Thorfinn Rowle.â€
â€œNever mind what theyâ€™re called!â€ said Hermione a little hysterically. â€œHow did they find us? What are we going to do?â€
Somehow her panic seemed to clear Harryâ€™s head.
â€œLock the door,â€ he told her, â€œand Ron, turn out the lights.â€
He looked down at the paralyzed Dolohov, thinking fast as the lock clicked and Ron used the Deluminator to plunge the cafÃ© into darkness. Harry could hear the men who had jeered at Hermione earlier, yelling at another girl in the distance.
â€œWhat are we going to do with them?â€ Ron whispered to Harry through the dark; then, even more quietly, â€œKill them? Theyâ€™d kill us. They had a good go just now.â€
Hermione shuddered and took a step backward. Harry shook his head.
â€œWe just need to wipe their memories,â€ said Harry. â€œItâ€™s better like that, itâ€™ll throw them off the scent. If we killed them itâ€™d be obvious we were here.â€
â€œYouâ€™re the boss,â€ said Ron, sounding profoundly relieved. â€œBut Iâ€™ve never down a Memory Charm.â€
â€œNor have I,â€ said Hermione, â€œbut I know the theory.â€
She took a deep, calming breath, then pointed her wand at Dolohovâ€™s forehead and said, â€œObliviate.â€
At once, Dolohovâ€™s eyes became unfocused and dreamy.
â€œBrilliant!â€ said Harry, clapping her on the back. â€œTake care of the other one and the waitress while Ron and I clear up.â€
â€œClear up?â€ said Ron, looking around at the partly destroyed cafÃ©. â€œWhy?â€
â€œDonâ€™t you think they might wonder whatâ€™s happened if they wake up and find themselves in a place that looks like itâ€™s just been bombed?â€
â€œOh right, yeahâ€¦â€
Ron struggled for a moment before managing to extract his wand from his pocket.
â€œItâ€™s no wonder I canâ€™t get it out, Hermione, you packed my old jeans, theyâ€™re tight.â€
â€œOh, Iâ€™m so sorry,â€ hissed Hermione, and as she dragged the waitress out of sight of the windows, Harry heard her mutter a suggestion as to where Ron could stick his wand instead.
Once the cafÃ© was restored to its previous condition, they heaved the Death Eaters back into their booth and propped them up facing each other. â€œBut how did they find us?â€ Hermione asked, looking from one inert man to the other. â€œHow did they know where we were?â€
She turned to Harry.
â€œYou â€“ you donâ€™t think youâ€™ve still got your Trace on you, do you, Harry?â€
â€œHe canâ€™t have,â€ said Ron. â€œThe Trace breaks at seventeen, thatâ€™s Wizarding law, you canâ€™t put it on an adult.â€
â€œAs far as you know,â€ said Hermione. â€œWhat if the Death Eaters have found a way to put it on a seventeen-year-old?â€
â€œBut Harry hasnâ€™t been near a Death Eater in the last twenty-four hours. Whoâ€™s supposed to have put a Trace back on him?â€
Hermione did not reply. Harry felt contaminated, tainted: Was that really how the Death Eaters had found them?
â€œIf I canâ€™t use magic, and you canâ€™t use magic near me, without us giving away our position â€“ â€ he began.
â€œWeâ€™re not splitting up!â€ said Hermione firmly.
â€œWe need a safe place to hide,â€ said Ron. â€œGive us time to think things through.â€
â€œGrimmauld Place,â€ said Harry.
The other two gaped.
â€œDonâ€™t be silly, Harry, Snape can get in there!â€
â€œRonâ€™s dad said theyâ€™ve put up jinxes against him â€“ and even if they havenâ€™t worked,â€ he pressed on as Hermione began to argue â€œso what? I swear, Iâ€™d like nothing better than to meet Snape!â€
â€œBut â€“ â€
â€œHermione, where else is there? Itâ€™s the best chance weâ€™ve got. Snapeâ€™s only one Death Eater. If Iâ€™ve still got the Trace on me, weâ€™ll have whole crowds of them on us wherever else we go.â€
She could not argue, though she looked as if she would have liked to. While she unlocked the cafÃ© door, Ron clicked the Deluminator to release the cafÃ©â€™s light. Then, on Harryâ€™s count of three, they reversed the spells upon their three victims, and before the waitress or either of the Death Eaters could do more than stir sleepily, Harry, Ron and Hermione had turned on the spot and vanished into the compressing darkness once more.
Seconds later Harryâ€™s lungs expanded gratefully and he opened his eyes: They were now standing in the middle of a familiar small and shabby square. Tall, dilapidated houses looked down on them from every side. Number twelve was visible to them, for they had been told of its existence by Dumbledore, its Secret-Keeper, and they rushed toward it, checking every few yards that they were not being followed or observed. They raced up the stone steps, and Harry tapped the front door once with his wand. They heard a series of metallic clicks and the clatter of a chain, then the door swung open with a creak and they hurried over the threshold.
As Harry closed the door behind them, the old-fashioned gas lamps sprang into life, casting flickering light along the length of the hallway. It looked just as Harry remembered it: eerie, cobwebbed, the outlines of the house-elf heads on the wall throwing odd shadows up the staircase. Long dark curtains concealed the portrait of Siriusâ€™s mother. The only thing that was out of place was the trollâ€™s leg umbrella stand, which was lying on its side as if Tonks had just knocked it over again.
â€œI think somebodyâ€™s been in here,â€ Hermione whispered, pointing toward it.
â€œThat couldâ€™ve happened as the Order left,â€ Ron murmured back.
â€œSo where are these jinxes they put up against Snape?â€ Harry asked.
â€œMaybe theyâ€™re only activated if he shows up?â€ suggested Ron.
Yet they remained close together on the doormat, backs against the door, scared to move farther into the house.
â€œWell, we canâ€™t stay here forever,â€ said Harry, and he took a step forward.
Mad-Eye Moodyâ€™s voice whispered out of the darkness, making all three of them jump back in fright. â€œWeâ€™re not Snape!â€ croaked Harry, before something whooshed over him like cold air and his tongue curled backward on itself, making it impossible to speak. Before he had time to feel inside his mouth, however, his tongue had unraveled again.
The other two seemed to have experienced the same unpleasant sensation. Ron was making retching noises; Hermione stammered, â€œThat m-must have b-been the T-Tongue-Tying Curse Mad-Eye set up for Snape!â€
Gingerly Harry took another step forward. Something shifted in the shadows at the end of the hall, and before any of them could say another word, a figure had risen up out of the carpet, tall, dust-colored, and terrible; Hermione screamed and so did Mrs. Black, her curtains flying open; the gray figure was gliding toward them, faster and faster, its waist-length hair and beard streaming behind it, its face sunken, fleshless, with empty eye sockets: Horribly familiar, dreadfully altered, it raised a wasted arm, pointing at Harry.
â€œNo!â€ Harry shouted, and though he had raised his wand no spell occurred to him. â€œNo! It wasnâ€™t us! We didnâ€™t kill you â€“ â€
On the word kill, the figure exploded in a great cloud of dust: Coughing, his eyes watering, Harry looked around to see Hermione crouched on the floor by the door with her arms over her head, and Ron, who was shaking from head to foot, patting her clumsily on the shoulder and saying, â€œItâ€™s all r-rightâ€¦. Itâ€™s g-goneâ€¦.â€
Dust swirled around Harry like mist, catching the blue gaslight, as Mrs. Black continued to scream.
â€œMudbloods, filth, stains of dishonor, taint of shame on the house of my fathers â€“ â€
â€œSHUT UP!â€ Harry bellowed, directing his wand at her, and with a bang and a burst of red sparks, the curtains swung shut again, silencing her.
â€œThatâ€¦ that wasâ€¦â€ Hermione whimpered, as Ron helped her to her feet.
â€œYeah,â€ said Harry, â€œbut it wasnâ€™t really him, was it? Just something to scare Snape.â€
Had it worked, Harry wondered, or had Snape already blasted the horror-figure aside as casually as he had killed the real Dumbledore? Nerves still tingling, he led the other two up the hall, half-expecting some new terror to reveal itself, but nothing moved except for a mouse skittering along the skirting board.
â€œBefore we go any farther, I think weâ€™d better check,â€ whispered Hermione, and she raised her wand and said, â€œHomenum revelio.â€
â€œWell, youâ€™ve just had a big shock,â€ said Ron kindly. â€œWhat was that supposed to do?â€
â€œIt did what I meant it to do!â€ said Hermione rather crossly. â€œThat was a spell to reveal human presence, and thereâ€™s nobody here except us!â€
â€œAnd old Dusty,â€ said Ron, glancing at the patch of carpet from which the corpse-figure had risen.
â€œLetâ€™s go up,â€ said Hermione with a frightened look at the same spot, and she led the way up the creaking stairs to the drawing room on the first floor.
Hermione waved her wand to ignite the old gas lamps, then, shivering slightly in the drafty room, she perched on the sofa, her arms wrapped tightly around her. Ron crossed to the window and moved the heavy velvet curtains aside an inch.
â€œCanâ€™t see anyone out there,â€ he reported. â€œAnd youâ€™d think, if Harry still had a Trace on him, theyâ€™d have followed us here. I know they canâ€™t get in the house, but â€“ whatâ€™s up, Harry?â€
Harry had given a cry of pain: His scar had burned against as something flashed across his mind like a bright light on water. He saw a large shadow and felt a fury that was not his own pound through his body, violent and brief as an electric shock.
â€œWhat did you see?â€ Ron asked, advancing on Harry. â€œDid you see him at my place?â€
â€œNo, I just felt anger â€“ heâ€™s really angry â€“ â€
â€œBut that could be at the Burrow,â€ said Ron loudly. â€œWhat else? Didnâ€™t you see anything? Was he cursing someone?â€
â€œNo, I just felt anger â€“ I couldnâ€™t tell â€“ â€
Harry felt badgered, confused, and Hermione did not help as she said in a frightened voice, â€œYour scar, again? But whatâ€™s going on? I thought that connection had closed!â€
â€œIt did, for a while,â€ muttered Harry; his scar was still painful, which made it hard to concentrate. â€œI â€“ I think itâ€™s started opening again whenever he loses control, thatâ€™s how it used to â€“ â€
â€œBut then youâ€™ve got to close your mind!â€ said Hermione shrilly. â€œHarry, Dumbledore didnâ€™t want you to use that connection, he wanted you to shut it down, thatâ€™s why you were supposed to use Occlumency! Otherwise Voldemort can plant false images in your mind, remember â€“ â€
â€œYeah, I do remember, thanks,â€ said Harry through gritted teeth; he did not need Hermione to tell him that Voldemort had once used this selfsame connection between them to lead him into a trap, nor that it had resulted in Siriusâ€™s death. He wished that he had not told them what he had seen and felt; it made Voldemort more threatening, as though he were pressing against the window of the room, and still the pain in his scar was building and he fought it: It was like resisting the urge to be sick.
He turned his back on Ron and Hermione, pretending to examine the old tapestry of the Black family tree on the wall. Then Hermione shrieked: Harry drew his wand again and spun around to see a silver Patronus soar through the drawing room window and land upon the floor in front of them, where it solidified into the weasel that spoke with the voice of Ronâ€™s father.
â€œFamily safe, do not reply, we are being watched.â€
The Patronus dissolved into nothingness. Ron let out a noise between a whimper and a groan and dropped onto the sofa: Hermione joined him, gripping his arm.
â€œTheyâ€™re all right, theyâ€™re all right!â€ she whispered, and Ron half laughed and hugged her.
â€œHarry,â€ he said over Hermioneâ€™s shoulder, â€œI â€“ â€
â€œItâ€™s not a problem,â€ said Harry, sickened by the pain in his head. â€œItâ€™s your family, â€˜course you were worried. Iâ€™d feel the same way.â€ He thought of Ginny. â€œI do feel the same way.â€
The pain in his scar was reaching a peak, burning as it had back in the garden of the Burrow. Faintly he heard Hermione say â€œI donâ€™t want to be on my own. Could we use the sleeping bags Iâ€™ve brought and camp in here tonight?â€
He heard Ron agree. He could not fight the pain much longer. He had to succumb.
â€œBathroom,â€ he muttered, and he left the room as fast as he could without running.
He barely made it: Bolting the door behind him with trembling hands, he grasped his pounding head and fell to the floor, then in an explosion of agony, he felt the rage that did not belong to him possess his soul, saw a long room lit only by firelight, and the giant blond Death Eater on the floor, screaming and writhing, and a slighter figure standing over him, wand outstretched, while Harry spoke in a high, cold, merciless voice.
â€œMore, Rowle, or shall we end it and feed you to Nagini? Lord Voldemort is not sure that he will forgive this timeâ€¦. You called me back for this, to tell me that Harry Potter has escaped again? Draco, give Rowle another taste of our displeasureâ€¦. Do it, or feel my wrath yourself!â€
A log fell in the fire: Flames reared, their light darting across a terrified, pointed white face â€“ with a sense of emerging from deep water, Harry drew heaving breaths and opened his eyes.
He was spread-eagled on the cold black marble floor, his nose inches from one of the silver serpent tails that supported the large bathtub. He sat up. Malfoyâ€™s gaunt, petrified face seemed burned on the inside of his eyes. Harry felt sickened by what he had seen, by the use to which Draco was now being put by Voldemort.
There was a sharp rap on the door, and Harry jumped as Hermioneâ€™s voice rang out.
â€œHarry, do you want your toothbrush? Iâ€™ve got it here.â€
â€œYeah, great, thanks,â€ he said, fighting to keep his voice casual as he stood up to let her in.
The Deathly Hallows
. . . . . . .