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0. Prologue1. Living with the Enemy2. The Truth Hurts3: Brewing Plots4: Festival of Horror5: Mixed Emotions6: Painful Healing7: Death's Favourite Victim8. Reforming the D.A.9. Airshafts10. Visitors11. Close Shaves

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10. Visitors

"Hey, Luna," Ginny said pleasantly, stepping into the room.

Unlike the other rooms and hallways in the makeshift ministry school for the witches and wizards that had escaped the Hogwarts Express, Luna's room was colorful. A Muggle fabric called tie-dye was draped as curtains over the windows that led to the dreary rain outside. Overstuffed armchairs made of bright fuchsia fabric with tassels on the arms sat beside a roaring fireplace and a large table sat in the middle of the room, piled with books, teacups, and crystal balls. Various knick-knacks and good-luck charms to ward of Wrackspurts and other things Ginny did not ask about cluttered the floor and windowsills and the air gave off the definite smell of incense.

"Ginny!" Luna Lovegood emerged from behind a particularly tall stack of books. Her large, blue eyes gazed imploringly out from her pale face as her usual necklace of Butterbeer caps dangled dangerously around her thin neck. Flying about in her lime green robes, she gave Ginny a hug and withdrew, her dreamy eyes glazed over with excitement. "I knew you were coming today," She said, her usually wistful voice tense. "I saw it in the crystal ball! Professor Trelawney has been teaching me wonders!"

"To one's own," Ginny said neutrally, hiding her obvious dislike for the mad bat of a professor. If she had been such a good seer, how could she not have seen the abduction of nearly the entire school of Hogwarts? "Sorry I didn't come earlier, I had a few…problems."

"Oh yes," Luna chattered happily, leading Ginny over to her brightly colored chairs. "I heard about that. I do believe you've frightened that Ethan Mason boy quite a bit. Like when you tried to jinx him in Diagon Alley—"

"Elbert Miller," Ginny corrected. "And yes, I suppose I did scare him, but he deserved it."

"Yes," Luna replied in her vague voice, smiling. "I happened to be in your brothers' shop when you jinxed him. He shrieked rather loudly, at which nearly everyone ran out to see what happened. It was quite amusing."

Ginny blushed. "There was a bit of a crowd."

"Which confuses me." Luna said, furrowing her brow. "Why does everyone run towards a blood curling scream?" She asked. "It is contrary to all sense."

Ginny shook her head and snorted. "Merlin, I missed you Luna. You make the rest of the world just seem so simple."

Luna beamed. "Thank you, Ginny. But now, I think we should talk about why you really came."

Ginny felt her heart squeeze guiltily. "I came to see you, Luna." Luna smiled passively once more and stood up.

"It's alright, Ginny," She said kindly. "I understand. You have something very important to ask her."

"No, Luna—" Ginny stuttered, leaping to her feet. But Luna took her hand and dragged her towards a short door in the corner.

"She'll want to see you, honestly," Luna insisted. "I believe she's been expecting you."

"Luna." Ginny said firmly, stopping her friend. "I don't want to talk to her. You know how I feel about her and I don't want to talk about Harry with someone like that."

Luna crossed her arms in front of her chest, her radish earrings swinging dangerously around her cheeks. "Ginny," Her voice was stern in a way that the Weasley girl did not know was possible. "There is something going on at Hogwarts and we both know it. You cannot ignore the signs; I see them every day now! You must talk to her, she can help!" She grabbed Ginny's arm and swung open the door.

"No, Luna, really. I don't think this is such a good idea anymore—"

But it was too late. Her friend pushed her through the short door and Ginny was locked into a room with a woman she positively despised.

"Miss Weasley," Came the wafting voice from behind a large, dark chair. "Come closer."

Glancing warily around her, Ginny approached the chair rather slowly. The room was much like Luna's, except that it was stifling hot and not as colorful. The smell of burning candles clogged up her nose horribly and Ginny sneezed three times in succession from the scent. She made a mental note to kill Luna for sticking her in here.

"Um…hello Professor," Ginny said awkwardly.

Sybill Trelawney appeared as insect-like as ever. Her large eyes stared out at her previous student so earnestly that Ginny felt as if they were drilling holes through her head. Assorted beads hung around her thin neck and Ginny vaguely wondered if they weighed her down at all. By the looks of them, Trelawney had completely cleared out all the jewelry stores in Diagon Alley.

"Ginevra," Trelawney said so softly and majestically that Ginny could hardly hear her. She scowled, however, at the use of her real name. "You come to me with a purpose," the seer whispered. Ginny shifted, feeling very awkward.

"Yes," Ginny took it upon herself to sit down. The seat, at least, was very comfortable; but it was directly across from the eccentric professor. Trelawney stared down at her crystal ball, which was perched precociously on its stand on the small table. Her eyes reflected the swirling mist of the ball, which gave her an eerie appearance of a blind person.

"Yes, yes I did," said Ginny, her voice coming out more strongly. "I came to ask you about…" She swallowed hard. "I came to ask you about some dreams."

"Ahh," Trelawney said mistily. "You have them too, do you?" Ginny pulled on a lock of her own hair, twisting it nervously around her fingers.

"Um, well, yes." She admitted. Trelawney leaned forward and peered into the churning of the crystal ball. Reluctantly, Ginny leaned forward as well. She truly did want to find out about Harry, but she did not like using divination to get her answers.

"Dreams," Trelawney murmured, the tips of her fingers slipping over the glassy surface of the ball. "What curious things."

It was then that she felt it. A shiver of cold passing through her spine, its icy fingers creeping up towards her neck and that horrible, dreadful feeling that someone was watching her. She spun around in her seat, her eyes immediately drawn to the paneled window. For a moment, she could not be sure, she could have sworn to see a human shadow flicker through the rain. But the next moment, her hallucination was gone, and she was left only with an eerie sensation of recognition. She had felt this feeling before. Ever since Hogwarts had been taken over, more and more often she had the distinct impression that she was being watched.

She shook herself and turned back to Trelawney, almost dreading the bug-eyed look sure to come her way, when she was shocked to see an expression of understanding on the seer's face.

"They torment you," She said darkly. "The Inner Eye senses their presence."

If she had not been so nervous, Ginny would have giggled. However, Trelawney spoke the truth: something was bothering her—whether it was real or imaginary—and she had to find out what it was.

"Professor," She said slowly, trying not to let her voice crack with anticipation. "These dreams…"

"Ah yes," Sybil eagerly sat up in her chair. "Please continue, my dear. Tell me what occurs in these dreams."

"Um, right," Ginny said, her brow furrowing with concentration. She grappled with her memories of the previous nights until the words suddenly came to her lips, as if they had been waiting there to be spoken. "Well, it's happened nearly every night. I'm usually dreaming something completely different, something that I don't usually remember in the morning, and then everything changes."

Trelawney's eyes widened, if possible, even more so.

"I'm standing on the tracks of the Hogwarts Express. All the plants, the trees—everything is gone. The grass is burnt and it looks like there's absolutely nothing alive. And then there's this noise. Like a horse, only different, because I can hear wings beating too."

As she described it, Ginny could see her dream; she could see the desolate landscape and hear the curiously soft clattering of hooves.

"The sound gets louder and louder until finally I can see this person riding…well, riding a Thestral."

"A symbol of death," Trelawney interrupted suddenly. Ginny caught herself sending the professor a frosty glare, before biting her lip and nodding.

"Yes, yes I suppose. Anyway, Harry's on the Thestral. There's this dark cloud following him, and he outruns it, but every time I come closer to him, he seems to get farther and farther away…" Ginny's voice trailed off as she remembered the desperateness she had felt in her sleep, trying to reach Harry. It had felt so real! She saw his face as clearly as she had in the Gryffindor Common Room as he pondered his next move against Voldemort. His brow furrowed in concentration, his electric green eyes blazing. In the dream, his hair blew crazily in the wind, becoming a slight blur. And there was that scar, whipped through the blurring colors of the passing scenery and standing out vividly on his forehead as if reminding her who he was and what he had done. Every time she had tried to approach him in her dream, he would somehow distance himself from her—and that scar would show through the darkness even more. It was as if he was still concentrating on defeating the Dark Lord, and could not bear to put her in danger, so he pushed her away. Just as he had done at the end of her fifth year.

"The Inner Eye senses that you are deeply troubled, my dear," Professor Trelawney's misty voice cut sharply through Ginny's thoughts. Annoyed at being interrupted in her thoughts, Ginny immediately snapped back.

"That's because the Inner Eye is so blind, that's all it can do," As soon as the words slipped from her tongue, Ginny clapped a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry," She gasped.

Sybil frowned deeply. "You question the judgment of destiny?" Well, actually she did, but that was not the answer Trelawney wanted. The professor peered anxiously out at Ginny; her many-ringed fingers clutching her heart as if waiting with baited breath to what the young Weasley's response would be.

Ginny shifted uncomfortably in her seat and checked the time, surprised at how late it had gotten, "Not unless destiny could give me some answers," She said hopefully.

Sybil sighed and shook her head, peering once more into the crystal ball. "The fates do not appreciate the unfaithful, Ginevra," she murmured, running a single, crooked finger over the smooth glass. "But I suppose, because of your situation…"

Ginny eagerly sat forward in her seat.

"Your dream represents the most obvious of many explanations," Trelawney said in a soft voice. "The dark cloud that Mr. Potter is being followed by is obviously his captors and oppressors: they follow him and try to bring him back into their grasp. But he is escaping. He is freeing himself from them."

"Does that mean he's breaking out of Hogwarts?" Ginny exclaimed, her voice high-pitched. Trelawney sent her a pitiful glance, wondering how normal witches and wizards ever lived their lives without the Sight.

"It could," Trelawney said grudgingly. "Or it could mean that he is slowly slipping away from them by means of death. Death is the greatest method of escape."

Ginny's heart skipped a beat and felt her hackles rise. "He's not dying. I would have felt it." She growled.

"Very well," Trelawney said with a shrug. She interlocked her many-ringed fingers. "If that is what you wish to believe, my dear. But Mr. Potter was always destined for death."

"Anything else?" Ginny snapped.

Trelawney peered at her thoughtfully. "Yes, yes I suppose. Well, the fact that every time you get closer to him, he then distances himself means that he is focused on something entirely different than you. That is, he acknowledges your presence, but he is determined to do his job before he turns to you."

Ginny felt a familiar flicker of impatience at Harry's obviously stubborn nature. She sighed and leaned back in the chair, rubbing her forehead.

"Ginny?" he whispered. She turned to him, wrenching her gaze from the beautiful sight of Bill and Fleur dancing, surrounded by twinkling fairy lights. He looked pityingly at her and she forced a smile.

"Harry," She responded, she stood but he shook his head.

"No, don't get up. It's just that—"

"Dance with me," She said firmly. He protested, but she took his hand and led him onto the dance floor and gently pressed her arms around his neck, breathing in his sweet, mint scent. His eyes lingered on her face for more than a few moments and he turned away shamefully, his face growing red. Ginny could see her mother watching them as they swayed slowly back and forth. "What is it, Harry?" she asked in a soft voice. He finally met her gaze.

"I need you to promise me something," He said hoarsely.

"Anything," Ginny murmured, leaning her head against his shoulder, but he pushed her away and made her look into his eyes.

"Promise me you won't wait," He said, his voice shaking. "Promise me you'll find someone else, someone who deserves you and you'll just let me go."

"Let you go?" Ginny repeated.

"Yes," Harry whispered. His eyes were watering. "Please, just forget about me. Be happy. I d-don't want…" He took in a deep breath. "I don't want you to end up like everyone else. I won't be responsible for your death."

"Harry—" She began. He twirled her and she caught a glimpse of a tear leaking down his cheek before he disappeared behind a sparkling fairy. She obediently followed the sweet melody of the music, and spun back into his warm arms.

"You said you would promise," He said earnestly. The tear on his face had gone. She felt resentment creep through her heart. How could he dance with her like this and expect her to feel nothing?

"We talked about this before, Harry," She begged, but he shook his head.

"I'm going to die, Ginny, and I don't want you to be there. I don't want you to go down with me. I want you to live long enough to tell my stories to your grandchildren and great-grandchildren so that I can live on through you. I want them to know me, not the Rita Skeeter version of a disturbed hero." He said it so earnestly that for a moment, Ginny believed him. But then she remembered what exactly he was doing to her.

"No," She said stoutly. Her fingers dug into his shoulders tightly until he was gasping. They turned, their feet matching the steps to the slow song perfectly.. The rest of the wedding guests passed in blurs of different colors. "I won't. I'm fighting him with you."

"I can't let you do that, Gin," He whispered. His face was contorted with pain. "I can't." He let go of her waist, which felt unnaturally cold without his gentle hands guiding her through the dance. He turned to go and Ginny rushed after him. Ron's eyes followed her.

"Stop! Don't you do that, Harry! Don't you dare say your good-byes."  She hissed. She fought to control  her voice for fear of ruining the wedding. Her brother and Fleur looked so peaceful. "I love you!"

"Don't." Harry said, his voice suddenly cold. "Don't love me, Ginny."

"Oh, but I will," She snapped. She grabbed his arm and forced him back into their dancing position. "I will love you until the day I die, no matter who I marry. I won't wait for you. I'll be beside you when you kill him. You can't stop me. I love you."

She leaned forward and kissed him. She kissed him so passionately, so fiercely, as tears streamed down both their cheeks, that for a moment all was forgotten. The lights, the music, the people staring…all of it disappeared until Harry and Ginny were melting into each other, no longer separate, but one.

"Ms. Weasley? Ms. Weasley, honestly, that is quite rude! Here I am, devolving the secrets of the Inner Eye, whose temper is not to be tested, and you continue to be lost in the mundane world!"

Ginny snapped out of her reverie. "What?" She nearly jumped out of her seat. Trelawney was so close to her face that her tarot cards would not have fit through the space between them. "Bloody hell!" She pushed so far away from the professor that the chair tipped back on its two legs and fell over backwards. With a crash, Ginny landed on the floor in a heap. Trelawney, exclaiming loudly and fluttering about like a nervous butterfly, pulled the chair back into its rightful position.

"Really!" She said, breathing heavily. "My dear, you are clearly disturbing the aura of this room! I must insist that you leave, before you damage any more fragile spirits."

"Sprits?" Ginny frowned, standing up and wincing painfully at the crick in her neck. She straightened out her hair and dusted off her clothes. "What spirits?"

Sybil looked at Ginny as if the girl were demented. "Why, didn't you notice? The chair you were sitting on is being inhabited by my great-great-great-great uncle Henry! He's been here for quite a few weeks!" She appeared completely affronted with the notion that Ginny had not noticed.

"So sorry to disturb the two of you," Ginny muttered. She opened the door that led to Luna's room and left Trelawney to apologize profusely to the overstuffed armchair for the terrible behavior of their guest.

~**~

"Avada Kedavra!"

Harry stared, horrified, as Bellatrix's lips parted and spoke those dreadful two words. The green light rushed towards him, screaming of death. He could not move. He could hardly breathe. His heart was beating so hard, he was sure it was loud enough for those beneath him to hear. His eyes remained fixed on the bolt of the spell—speeding towards him on the black wings of death. 

At the last second, he shuffled back out of the way, the spell barely missing him. Instead, the green light engulfed the squeaking rat beside him, which promptly fell dead and slipped through the bars of the grate.

Narcissa gave a small scream as the rat hit the floor. Draco jumped back in revulsion while Bellatrix picked up the creature as easily as picking up a sock.

"A rat," She said, sounding disappointed. "But that's not right. There was blood…"

"Never mind that," Lucius snapped. With a wave of his wand, the rat disappeared. "Let us regroup in the morning; this night has gone on late enough as it is. If you hear anything," He said, directing his stare towards his sister-in-law. "Tell me immediately." Bellatrix nodded and took her blonde sister by the arm, leading her out of sight. Harry heard a door open and close. "As for you, Draco," His father spat disgustedly. "If I hear any more words of your antics, you shall spend the rest of this week in one of the dungeon cells. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, father," Draco muttered. Without another word, the two left the room.

~**~

Ron turned restlessly in the four-poster bed; his eyes wide open in the moonlight, as he stared fixedly at the door. Any second now, he told himself. Any second, Harry is going to walk through that door and lay back in bed completely safe with no Death Eater holding him by the neck…     

Ron shook his head slightly, turned over—away from the door—and closed his eyes. Harry's plans were idiotic and stupid. How could he do this? The seconds ticked on…and still, the room was empty except for Ron and Neville. The other boy snored softly in his sleep and Ron tried to tune the noise out, but it was nigh impossible. All Ron wanted to hear was his friend's footsteps, pattering into the Common Room.

Ron froze.

Was he imagining it? Or was it real? He could have sworn to hear someone coming up the stairs to the dormitory. Harry! Thank Merlin, Ron thought with relief. Safe again. Hermione would not nag him about letting his best friend do something dangerous once more. The doorknob rattled and the planks creaked as the person entered the room.

"Blimey," Ron said, sitting up in bed. "Mate, you had me going there for a…" His voice trailed off in horror. He gaped at the doorway. The figure smiled.

"Morning, princess," snickered a gruff voice. "How'd you sleep?"

The Death Eater entered the room with a wide smile, holding his wand aloft.

~**~

Harry's mind reeled with all the new information, but he pushed the thoughts out of his head and glanced at his watch. It was nearly one in the morning and it was only as he stared at the glowing face of the watch that he realized how exhausted he was. Stifling a yawn, he started his voyage back to Gryffindor tower.

Harry began crawling backwards, ignoring his stinging palms, and moved as quietly as possible so as not to make too much noise. He followed the pathway of blood left on the walls by his hands while his mind whirled with the horrible possibilities of what would happen to him if he went astray in the complicated vent system. It was only ten minutes after his initial movement towards the tower that Harry's worst fears were confirmed.

He was lost.

~**~

Ron could not breathe. It was as if his entire body had ceased functioning out of shock. The most that he could do was remain sitting in bed, in his too small, striped pajamas, and a murderous man standing in the doorway.

The Death Eater's eyes roved around the room and Ron swallowed hard. His thoughts immediately flew to the one person missing in the room. Harry.

"There are only two," The man proclaimed loudly. "There are supposed to be three. Where is the other?" Ron's mind raced. It was the massive blond Death Eater from the attack in their sixth year. He recognized him immediately, remembering when half the ceiling had come crashing down on them because of this one's flailing curses. Ron shrunk away. Bloody hell! Where's Harry?

"I asked you a question dimwit!" The man snarled, taking another step into the room. "Where is the third?" Ron saw movement behind the Death Eater and he suddenly became dizzy. There were four Death Eaters standing outside the room. How many, then, were in the tower? Better yet, how did they get past the Fat Lady?

"This is Potter's room," Said a voice from behind the blond man. Jugson, another Death Eater, stepped into the moonlight and peered at the four-poster beds. Neville continued to snore. "Potter's missing? Oh, Malfoy won't like that." Jugson stepped up to Ron and flicked his wand. The redhead suddenly found himself pinned against the wall. "Well, Weasley? Any idea where Potter is?"

Ron's ability to breathe suddenly resurfaced.

"Lemme go!" He hissed, struggling against the jinx. It felt as if he were pulling himself through a vat of molasses. Jugson gave a bark-like laugh.

"Let you go? Why, of course, my dear blood-traitor, as soon as you reveal to us Potter's location. Where is he?" A third Death Eater entered the room, though Ron did not recognize him, and approached Neville's bedside. Ron's eyes flickered over to the pair, but looked away again when the Death Eater took the mattress and flipped it over—toppling Neville onto the hard, wood floor. The sleeping boy awoke with a yelp and hastily stood up, glancing around at the intruders with a fearful expression.

Jugson flicked his wand again and the jinx tightened its bonds. Its victim's heart faltered for a moment and all the muscles in his body began to contract painfully.

Ron grit his teeth. "I don't know." The blond Death Eater took a menacing step forward but Jugson threw out his arm warningly, his eyes still focused on Ron.

"Yes, you do." Jugson said, his voice quiet. "Come now, Weasley. Do not be uncooperative. You know the consequences."

"I said let me go." Ron repeated stubbornly. His voice came out in a strangled gasp but he refused to lower his gaze. Jugson watched him for a moment, his face impassive. The dormitory was silent. Suddenly, Jugson's face broke out into a grin. He turned to the last remaining Death Eater behind him.

"Bring her in," He smiled. There was a slight scuffle and a grunt of anger. Ron, filled with dread, watched as a muscled man entered the room, clutching Hermione close to him with a wand at her throat. Her eyes found his and she shook her head slightly. She was warning him not to reveal Harry's location. But Ron did not know where he was!

"Ron…" She whispered. The Death Eater who had woken Neville slapped the brunette across the face—leaving the stinging mark of a hand lying on her cheek.

"NO—" Ron gurgled, attempting to shake his head. Jugson laughed rambunctiously and pinched Hermione's cheeks in a sickeningly affectionate manner.

"Pretty girl, isn't she Weasley? Now." He turned and faced Ron, raising his wand. "Where is Potter?"

Ron hesitated.

"Don't test me, Weasley! Where is he?"

Ron glanced over at Hermione, her cheek already developing a purple hue. He shook his head.

"I don't know."

For a few heart-pounding moments, Jugson and the other four Death Eaters remained silent. Their eyes continuously flickered around the room, flashing dangerously like warning beacons. Neville was shaking in the corner, holding up the pretense that he was unafraid. But his quaking hands gave him away. And he was not the only one. If Ron were capable to move, he would have been just as frightened. He, however, unlike Neville, had no choice but to remain frozen.

Jugson let his wand arm drop; and with it, came Ron crashing towards the ground. He landed with a loud thump and moaned, carefully massaging his neck. No one moved.

"Very well," Jugson said quietly. "If you refuse to cooperate…" He glanced back at his comrades, his movements oddly erratic. "Take them down to the Common Room with the others, but keep a close eye. Malfoy can deal with them—this was all his idea anyway." The other Death Eaters obliged, forcefully pushing Ron, Hermione, and Neville down the steps into the Gryffindor Common Room. The rest of the House was there waiting, all in a long line stretching across the worn carpet. The three friends were shoved to the end of the line, Hermione between the two boys.

"Where's Harry?" She hissed out of the corner of her mouth. The other Death Eaters circled the Gryffindors. There was a small, high-pitched yelp as Colin Creevy attempted to push away a cloaked man that was shoving him into line. He was quickly punished. Neville turned away from the sound.

"No idea," Ron grunted. He knew that she was almost beside herself with worry.  Hermione's silence was the only answer he needed.

C'mon, Harry!

~**~

Harry's head spun in nearly fifteen different directions. All the passageways looked the same! The grotesque trail of his own blood that he had been following seemed to have disappeared and he could not, for the life of him, tell which way to go. He tried to quell the growing panic the issued up inside of him, but could not stop his hands from shaking. If only he had his wand…

The only way was to keep going. Harry steeled himself to continue crawling, however much it pained him and made him think of being forced to suffocate to death…no one would ever find his body…

The darkness within the air vent became denser as Harry crawled and it smothered him like a glove. He had to squint to make out the small squares of light peeking up at him from the grates that seemed more and more difficult to find. And with the shortage of grates, Harry felt his breathing become labored and desperate. He was gasping for air and there seemed to be no hope whatsoever…

That was when Harry heard the voices. At first, he was sure that they were those of his parents calling out to him—readying him for death. He could, after all, see a light at the end of the tunnel. But the voices were gruffer and louder than Harry pictured those of his parents and he therefore assumed that they must be real.

"And this was all little Malfoy's idea?"

"Trying to get back in his father's right books, if ye ask me."

"Oh, no doubt. He's as slippery as his father. This midnight roll call…honestly, as if the lot of them could get out of the castle…"

Harry's heart skipped a beat. Roll call?

"I agree with you there, Rookwood. But supposedly someone's missing from one of the Houses, so not a complete loss after all, eh?"

"Missing, you say? Is this the House we're going to now?"

"Aye. Gryffindor tower."

Harry was torn between overbearing relief and ice-cold fear. They had noted his absence, but here he had a map back to the tower! All he had to do was follow the voices! With a renewed sense of determination, Harry strained his ears to hear the muffled footsteps of the men walking towards his dormitories. After contemplating for a moment, he lurched to the left and began a gradual ascent upward—always listening carefully to the guiding voices of the Death Eaters.

~**~

"Missing? How in hell's name could he be missing?"

Draco's tone was dangerously close to fury. The young, pockmarked Death Eater before him shook his head slightly, looking terrified. Draco's reputation may have been destroyed, but his wand had not been. Curses from the Malfoy family were not eagerly anticipated from others.

"I dunno…sir." The man added quickly. "I dunno anything. I only just got here, you see. B-But they said that Potter was not in his dormitory a-and they're searching the rest of the tower now, just in case he's hiding s-somewhere…"

Draco paced back and forth outside the Fat Lady's portrait. He dared not look at the painting directly, seeing as it had been completely destroyed. Its canvas was still smoldering from the fire and far away, he could hear its original inhabitant's sobs. He tried to block the sound out, but the image of a pale, skinny woman with tears streaming down her face continually flashed before his eyes. Draco shook his head impatiently. Why would she not leave him alone?

"Are they sure that he's not disguised? Hiding among the others?"

"S-Sir?"

"Polyjuice potion, you fool!"

"But how—?"

"I don't know how, idiot. But obviously he's not there, is he?"

The young man said nothing. Draco turned again, his pounding feet beginning to beat a repeating rhythm on the cold, stone floor. Potter's gone…Potter's gone…Potter's gone…

The words rang over and over within his head and they seemed to be the only thoughts that made sense to him. He had no idea what to do. Should he go in there and look for Potter himself? But by now, the news of his brilliant plan, this spur-of-the-moment roll call would have reached his father and aunt. They would be coming here, to see if his work was satisfactory or, as usual, a disappointment.

No. Draco was tired of being looked down upon. He would find Potter. He would show his father that he could be trusted.

Draco dug his heel into the ground and faced the portrait entrance. With a deep breath, he stepped inside.

~**~

"Ron!"

He looked up from the floor. Hermione was tilting her head towards the gaping, burning hole in the place of the portrait of the Fat Lady. There stood Draco Malfoy. Ron's stomach did a back flip.

"Oh, where's Harry?" Hermione moaned.

"Precisely," Said Draco loudly, coming to stand in front of the three friends. "What I was about to ask." Neville made to lurch forward, but the large, blonde Death Eater stepped up behind the young Slytherin with a threatening expression. Neville bowed his head submissively. 

Draco casually removed his wand from his pocket, twirling it around his fingers. "Surely you know, Mudblood?"

"Go to hell, Malfoy." Ron snarled. Draco gave him a warning look before turning back to Hermione.

"Come now, Granger. Don't lie. You've seen what happens to liars—"

Hermione's mind flashed to Terry Boot, hung by his toes from the ceiling of the third floor corridor until he admitted to having stolen a loaf of bread for his Housemates in Ravenclaw Tower. The purple, distorted limbs…

"—And we certainly don't want that to happen to you. So, go on. Give us a clue."

"I don't know where he is." Hermione whispered, trying to control the contempt in her voice. "And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."

The Death Eaters shifted, all eyes on the Muggle-born girl. Draco looked very likely to smack Hermione before letting out a hiss between his teeth and spinning away from her angry face. He glanced towards the door with an anxious expression. Neville watched all of this pensively.

"What's wrong, Malfoy? Got a deadline?"

The short, black wand flew around and pointed itself at Neville's head.

"Shut up, Longbottom!" The deranged look in Draco's eyes made Neville falter. "I don't know where he is…I don't know what he's doing…But when I find him…Potter will be as good as dead. So why don't you rub those two lonely brain cells together and think that over while I go look for your little elusive friend, alright?" He shoved Neville hard. But Neville did not move. Hissing again like an angry snake, Draco ordered for five other Death Eaters to join him.

"Look everywhere. Leave no place untouched. I want him found. If we don't have him within ten minutes, we start killing off his friends. Perhaps then they'll be more conducive to revealing his location."

The cloaked men dispersed, eager looks of bloodlust filling their eyes. The Gryffindors watched, begging silently for Harry's return.

~**~

Harry knew that he had reached Gryffindor Tower when he heard the men below him arguing loudly on whether they should enter the Common Room or not. The darkness in the tunnel seemed to have lifted; although he did not know if this was because of his own sudden hopeful mood or because he truly was approaching the end of his journey in the tunnels. Now clearly identifying the trail of bloodstained walls, Harry began his last few shuffles towards the open bathroom vent. His elbows were sore and rubbed raw from being used for crawling, but Harry hardly felt the pain. He was almost there.

~**~

"No sign of him."

All the Death Eaters nodded in agreement. None of the had seen a trace of Harry Potter. Draco contemplated the situation for a moment. His eyes darted back and forth between the long lines of Gryffindors, to the five others that stood before him.

"Very well. Bring the Mudblood. And the blood-traitor Weasley. We'll start with them." The men obeyed and held the two struggling teenagers tightly. Draco stood close to Hermione, letting his wand trace a line down her pale neck. "You'll die first, Granger." He whispered softly. "I suppose we'll see just how filthy your blood is when we spill it."

"Oh?" Hermione's voice was strained and high-pitched with fear despite her show of confidence. "No Unforgivable Curses this time?" Draco shook his head.

"I prefer a more physical approach to the situation. Makes my point clearer to the others." He grinned maliciously. "I suppose this is in return for punching me that one year."

Hermione spat in his face. "You're a monster."

"It's your friend that's abandoned you to this death, Granger." Draco smirked and calmly wiped the gesture of hatred from his face. He could hear the approaching voices of his father and Bellatrix. His cold gaze found Ron, muscled and struggling against his Death Eater captor. "Restrain him." Ordered Draco. "He'll become violent once he sees his girlfriend's innards spilled on the floor."

Ron lunged forward and snarled at Draco, but he could not reach him. Malfoy simply laughed. The Death Eater holding Ron flicked his wand and the redhead was immediately forced to his knees as thin, black ropes spun themselves around his body. His arms and legs were bound to his sides. The only thing left to move was his head. The Death Eater began to gag him but Draco stopped him. He heard his father, mother, Bellatrix, and Rodolphus stand in the room behind him.

"No." Draco whispered. He looked from Hermione to Ron, his face distorted in a horrible grin. "I want to hear his screams."

~**~

After what had seemed like an endless amount of twisting tunnels, Harry had somehow managed to turn his body around so that he would emerge from the vent feet first. Once again he found his feet dangling overtop of Gryffindor Tower's boys' bathroom. Gently, Harry lowered himself onto the floor. But his balance was off and his fingers slipped so that he fell to the floor of the bathroom with a sudden crash. As luck would have it, he had landed precisely on what was left of the metal bars of the grate.

A piece of broken glass crunched beneath his foot and pierced through the thin rubber of his shoe and he fell to his knees. Harry let out a small gasp as he felt warm blood trickle from the wound. He tried to stand and immediately realized his mistake, letting out a faint scream as the glass dug deeper into his flesh. He stuffed his fist into his mouth and bit down hard, determined not to make too much noise. Scrambling, his fingers shaking so violently that he could not control them, Harry wrenched the glass from his foot. More blood poured from the wound and Harry leaned his head against the wall as his vision went blurry from the agony.

Get up, said a voice in the back of his head. The midnight roll call… It doesn't hurt that bad…Ron and Hermione…

But he could not help it. The edges of his sight had began to darken…

~**~

Chapter Navigation:

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0. Prologue1. Living with the Enemy2. The Truth Hurts3: Brewing Plots4: Festival of Horror5: Mixed Emotions6: Painful Healing7: Death's Favourite Victim8. Reforming the D.A.9. Airshafts10. Visitors11. Close Shaves

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