Name: Air Elemental
House: Gryffindor
Challenge: Quarterly Challenge, History and Mythology
Chapter Six: In which some Death Eaters appear
Andrew Haroldson was an ordinary man with an ordinary life. He worked at day and slept at night, just like everyone else in the village of Thorne. At least he had an ordinary life until somebody knocked on his door one night.
“Now who could that be?” he mumbled to himself, leaning out of his chair and walking towards the door. Peering through the crack, he noticed two small shadows dripping on the porch way. Nervously, he opened the door.
He was faced with two children no older than thirteen. A boy with black hair and glasses standing next to a brunette girl; both looked drenched. Andrew felt pity rise in his heart.
“Hello, I’m Hermione,” said the girl politely, “and this is my friend Harry. Can we come in?”
“Of course,” Andrew smiled. The children seemed trustworthy. He stepped aside and invited them in. They sat by the warm fire thankfully and didn’t say a word. Andrew’s smiled widened; they reminded him of his own children before they grew up.
A few minutes later, he returned into the living room holding a tray of pumpkin juice and ginger biscuits.
“You look soaked,” he commented, as Harry and Hermione ate the biscuits hungrily. “Did you walk through the river or something?”
“Actually, we did,” said Hermione, sipping her juice. “We were being chased by Granite warriors.”
“Granite warriors?” Andrew frowned. “There are no Granite warriors near this village! How far have you been walking?”
“Dunno,” shrugged Harry, “we’ve been on the move since dawn.”
“Goodness me!” exclaimed Andrew. “You children must be exhausted.”
Hermione stifled a yawn.
“Listen,” smiled Andrew kindly, “how about I run you both a bath each and then let you sleep in my son and daughter’s old room? I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“Oh, all right then,” sighed Harry, without thinking. His body was aching and his bare feet were scratched and bloodied. A bath and a rest would do him good.
“I have been so rude, my name’s Andrew Haroldson,” added Andrew as he began striding upstairs.
Harry helped himself to more biscuits. It seemed cosy and safe in the living room, and it was so warm! Harry rubbed his hands together gratefully. It reminded him of the Burrow.
When he looked up, Hermione was scanning the bookshelf in a hungry manner. Sometimes she’d pause on a book spine, but only to sigh and continue skimming.
“What are you looking for?” asked Harry curiously.
“An Atlas, aha!” Hermione slid out a thick leather book and flicked through the pages.
“What town are we in?” Hermione questioned Harry.
“Erm… The sign said Thorpe, no, Thorne!”
Hermione flew to the index and ran her finger down the page. Before she could say anything, Andrew returned, holding a fluffy white towel.
“Who wants to go first?” he asked. “Or should I say ‘Who gets the hot water?’”
“You can have it, Hermione,” said Harry. There were one or two things he wanted to ask Andrew Haroldson.
“Oh, thanks Harry,” Hermione put the book down and received the towel off Andrew. She closed the door behind her.
“Doing a spot of Geography?” Andrew asked, waving the Atlas at Harry.
“We were wondering where we were,” answered Harry, “and what paths to take next.”
“I haven’t looked at this map in years,” cried Andrew, balancing the map in his lap. Harry wanted to go and look at it, but his legs refused to obey. He was too comfy after a hellish day.
“Look,” Andrew continued, “there’s Johanton! I was married there, and there’s Buxley and Harrol! They’re my children’s birthplaces! And that’s Crowford…”
Andrew suddenly burst into tears. Harry was alarmed.
“Uh… Are you alright, sir?” asked Harry, nervously.
“Oh Harry, I’m so sorry,” sobbed Andrew.
“There’s no need,” Harry tried to get up but his body felt weighed down.
“No really, Harry,” Andrew’s voice suddenly became serious. “I’m sorry.”
Before Harry could react, Andrew pulled out his wand and cried: “Stupefy!”
Hermione… thought Harry, as he slumped forward and felt darkness surround him.
*****
Hermione was just opening the door to the bathroom when she heard Andrew’s voice downstairs.
“Stupefy!”
She froze. The sound of someone falling to the floor echoed upstairs. Had Harry been stunned?
Hermione dropped her towel and whisked out her wand. She had two options: Go downstairs and confront the attacker, or hide. Choosing the former, Hermione began to creep down the stairs. The bath would have to wait.
Her hand rested on the living room door, warm from the fire. She heard the familiar whooshing sound of… no! Andrew was escaping by Floo!
Panicking slightly, Hermione flung the door open. She was too late! Andrew and Harry were gone. All that was left were a pile of crumbly ginger biscuits and a pitcher of juice.
Hermione was hit by a sudden wave of drowsiness. Her legs buckled and her eyelids began to fall. She clutched the curtain for support, but it tore at her touch. Crumpled on the ground, Hermione noticed something underneath the side table: a faded piece of parchment. Through her rapidly blurring eyes, Hermione noticed only one thing: a skull with a snake slithering out of its mouth. The sign of the Death Eaters.
*****
When Harry woke up, he was in a pitch-black room. The air was musty and damp, while the floor beneath him was carpeted. It took him a few seconds to remember what had happened. How long had he been stunned?
His eyes grew a custom to the dark. Slowly, he could make out that they were in a shabby cell of some sort. There were bars at the windows and a couple of chairs sat nearby. The ground jerked. They were moving!
It was then that Harry had a thought. If he had been stunned magically, then why did he wake of gradually and sleepily instead of straight away?
“Drugged food and stunning spells don’t make a good mix,” chirped up a familiar voice.
Harry turned around and laughed! Ron’s silhouette was lining a corner. He felt for his wand. Harry pulled it out of his pocket and cried: “Lumos!”
Light exploded around him, causing Harry to squint. Hermione was lying nearby, and so was Neville. He cast a sigh of relief.
“Hey, how come they let you keep your wand?” questioned Ron. He looked more weary than usual.
“Dunno,” Harry shrugged curiously, “who are ‘they’?”
“They tried waking you up,” Ron ignored Harry’s last comment, “but you just kept sleeping. Those drugs that guy fed you must’ve been strong!”
“Not too strong,” pointed out Harry, “Hermione’s still asleep. Now are you going to tell me who ‘they’ are or what?”
But before Ron could answer, there was a sudden jerk and the sound of someone fumbling with a lock.
“Put your wand away!” hissed Ron.
“Lox,” muttered Harry, as the door groaned open and light drenched the room. Neville groaned and Hermione’s eyes fluttered open. A tall silhouette stood in the doorway.
“Good morning,” snarled a soft voice. Harry hooded his eyes and managed to make out a tall man with a long, twisted face sneering down at him. “Pleasant dreams?”
Neville glared up at the man.
“Good morning, Dolohov,” gritted Ron.
“You’ve finally woken up then, Potter? Granger? Marvellous.”
“Where are we?” demanded Harry. Dolohov chuckled unpleasantly.
“On the road,” he answered, “heading to the port of Andreson. We’ll be there in a few days.”
“Dolohov!” called a woman’s voice nearby, “Dolohov, get here!”
“Coming, Narcissa,” he turned back to the prisoners. “I’ll be seeing you later.”
Dolohov stepped back and slammed the door shut. The lock jangled and there was silence.
“Who else is here?” demanded Hermione fiercely. “How long have we been asleep?”
“Erm…” struggled Ron, “there’s Dolohov, Avery, Rookwood and Narcissa…”
“She’s Malfoy’s mum,” finished Neville.
Hermione’s eyes widened.
“Is Malfoy here?” asked Harry darkly.
Neville shook his head, “If he was, then we haven’t seen him, Harry.”
“How long have we been asleep?” repeated Hermione urgently.
Ron opened his mouth to answer, but before his words could escape, a creepy chuckle echoed through the room. It sent chills down Harry’s back.
“Hello my little saviours. Rise and shine, this is Loki speaking.”
“Loki?” Neville gasped.
“Yes it really is the wonderful me! Now I know the terms and conditions say that no magical aids are allowed, but after two weeks and three days of none activities…”
“TWO WEEKS AND THREE DAYS!” screamed Hermione, suddenly clutching Ron’s arm. Ron looked bewildered. “THAT LEAVES- THAT LEAVES…”
“Two days, yes,” said Loki, smoothly, “don’t you just love challenges!”
“What do you want?” snapped Harry.
“Calm down, or I might not help you,” whined Loki. “I’m going to get you out of this cell. Why? Because I’m bored with your snoozing! Now in a few seconds the doors opposite are going to burst open. You will then run out into the forest towards freedom and some entertaining viewing. Those four idiots that intercepted my fun are busy fixing the carriage. Everybody ready? Good. GO!”
And with that, the cell doors flew open. Harry scrambled to his feet, clutching his wand, and sprinted through the opening. He tripped over the rim and landed painfully on the cobbled road. The next thing he knew, Ron had grabbed him and was rapidly pulling him towards a green blurry mass. There was a cry behind him and a red streak shot past, inches away from his ear. Then Harry fell sideways and into the forest. Neville pulled him behind a fallen tree with Ron. Hermione crouched behind a rock, panting heavily.
“Don’t stop!” teased Loki. “They’ll catch you! Obviously my dear saviours have been lounging around for too long. Up!”
“They’re over here!” cried Dolohov’s voice.
“Go!” Harry began sprinting again, Ron and Neville right behind him. Hermione quickly joined them.
“Harry, go towards the trees!” she hissed.
Harry veered right and into a close mass of trees. He squeezed into them and crouched down, the thick branches scratching at his face.
Four figures blurred past. Dolohov and the other Death Eaters had missed them.
The foursome waited a few minutes before crawling out of the trees. Sighing with relief, Harry glanced around him.
“Where’s Neville?”
“Here,” Neville raced up to him. In his hands were two wands. “Got my wand back, and Ron’s too.”
“Cheers,” said Ron, stuffing his wand into his pocket.
“Where now?” asked Harry.
“Well, we can’t just stand around here!” exclaimed Hermione. “We’ve two days to complete three tasks or Ginny’s doomed! Let’s get moving!”
“And fast,” added Neville, “the Death Eaters might return.”
*****
After about an hour of rapid walking, the saviours arrived at a small marketing village. Tudor buildings with their tell tale black frames lined the streets. The road was cobbled and dusty. Stalls ran along the pavement, selling food, clothes, potion supplies and all sorts of other goods. Beggars leant against the shop walls and birds sang overhead.
It was strangely empty as they walked through the streets. Harry wondered why no one was outside. That and many other questions littered his mind. He was even starting to wonder if he was in the same universe. No letters on underage magic had arrived, rocks became giant warriors and he’d been unconscious for two and a half weeks without food or water, and was still alive. His head hurt from it all. Now they were in some sort of medieval town as silent as the night.
“Can we stop for a while?” asked Neville.
“Well, I think we’ve out run the Death Eaters,” said Hermione cheerfully. “Shall we sit here?” She gestured to a wooden bench.
Harry sat down gratefully. His feet stung angrily and Ron was rubbing his. Their lack of shoes was taking its toll. Sighing, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the slip of paper.
Time does fly
So touch the sky.
Harry hadn’t given it much thought before, but now he realised just how difficult it would be. Touching the sky? Was that possible?
Ron and Neville’s faces fell when Harry showed them the paper. Hermione scowled.
“How’re we meant to touch the sky?” complained Ron. “Build a flying machine?”
“No Ron,” insisted Hermione, “we don’t have enough time!”
“Time flies,” muttered Neville. “Hey! D’you think Loki was planning all this? Us falling asleep and stuff?”
“What? Missing two-and-a-half weeks? Probably,” groaned Harry.
Hermione was staring vacantly at a large, domed building nearby. A smile played on her lips.
“What?” asked Ron.
“Well, it’s just… it might work… it doesn’t say… follow me,” and with that, she stood up and ran towards the building.
“Hermione!” pleaded Ron. “Wait! Oh, I hate it when she does that!”
*****
It was a library! Harry was astounded as he walked through the towering bookshelves. Dusty volumes littered the tables and chandeliers hung dramatically. The crimson carpet tickled Harry’s feet and the room smelt of damp paper. It was much more cosy than the Hogwarts library.
They jogged to catch up with Hermione as she dodged through the bookshelf maze. As they ran, Neville gasped and tripped over a pile of books.
“Neville!” Harry ran back, but Ron hurried on, desperate to catch up with Hermione. Neville was lying on his back, his face framed with wonder.
“Harry, look!”
Harry cast a look upwards and nearly laughed.
The domed ceiling of the library was a painting of the sky.
*****
“…So that’s why we need to get to the top. We need to ‘touch the sky’”
The librarian nodded kindly. She was a tall woman with too much make-up splattered onto her face and a bright blue dress.
“I see your problem Miss… Hermione isn’t it?”
“What’s going on?” asked Harry, as he and Neville arrived beside Ron.
“Hermione’s trying to get permission to climb the ceiling,” Ron explained, grinning.
“We won’t be climbing it, Ron,” said Hermione, “we’re going to levitate one of us up there.”
Ron shrugged. Neville laughed.
“How did you know we had to come here?” asked Harry, as the four began to walk to the centre of the library.
“It was in that Atlas,” said Hermione. “The first page I came to described the Great Domed Library of Mendon and its painted ceiling! The picture showed a painting of the sky.
“Painting’s not moving, though,” muttered Ron. “Weird.”
“Here should do,” said Hermione, stopping beside a small table. “Now, whose the lightest here?”
“Erm…”
“Probably me,” said Ron, guessing. “Not that I’m volunteering or anything…”
Hermione gave him a fierce look, and gestured on to the table. Ron groaned and stood on top of it.
“On the count of three,” announced Hermione, “one, two, three!”
“Wingardium Leviosa!”
Ron cried out as he began to float up into the air. Harry smiled; it was working!
There was a loud crash as the library doors blasted open! The smell of burning wood wafted in. The Death Eaters!
“Hurry!” cried Ron. A few feet above him was a small chandelier. Ron knew what to do.
“Where are they?” shrieked Narcissa’s voice.
“Tell us or we’ll burn your library down!” yelled a voice Harry didn’t recognise.
“I… I don’t…”
“AHA!”
Harry spun around and came face to face with Dolohov’s ugly face. Hermione screamed and lost her concentration. Ron cried out as gravity gained him back. Desperately, he snatched for the chandelier wildly, missing by his fingertips and plummeting down towards the table.
Neville yelled as a Death Eater pounced on him! Harry lunged at Dolohov but he leapt aside. Harry crashed into a nearby pile of books as Dolohov ran towards him.
“RON!” cried Hermione. She flung herself onto the table and caught him. The impact cracked one of her ribs and forced her off the table, her arms wrapped around Ron.
“Hermione, Ron, there’s a time and a place for that!” yelled Harry, scrambling out of the books, “this is not it! Petrificus Totalus!”
The spell hit Neville’s Death Eater square between the eyes. Shaking him off, Neville came face to face with Narcissa.
“Avery is not as easy as I am, Longbottom,” she sneered, reminiscent of a Malfoy. “Incendio!”
“NO!” Ron leapt up, horrified. Narcissa hadn’t been aiming at Neville, but the nearest bookcase. It burst alight!
“Monster!” screamed the librarian, pulling out her wand and leaping over the desk.
The fire spread rapidly and the library soon resembled a wall of fire. Harry was still battling Dolohov, Neville was dodging Narcissa’s spells and Hermione was groaning in pain on the floor. The librarian was wrestling with the other Death Eater that Ron guessed was Rookwood. That leaved only him to collect the slip of paper before the library fell in on itself.
Spotting the nearest bookcase not aflame, Ron scrambled up. The bookcase lurched violently, terrifying Ron but not stopping him. Quickly, he pulled himself onto the last shelf and stood up cautiously. Ron shook, the bookcase swayed alarmingly and if it fell, Ron gulped; it would fall on top of the injured Hermione.
Edging his way across the top, Ron reached out towards the chandelier. No! It was too far!
I’m going to have to jump, he thought.
“Ow!” Ron yelped. Flames licked his bare feet, blistering them. Ron jumped up and down in pain and the bookcase tipped!
“Hermione look out!” Ron jumped in desperation and grabbed hold of the chandelier, swinging like a pub sign and staring in horror as the bookcase tumbled down.
Hermione!
Ron saw something in the corner of his eye. Hermione! She was safe!
Nimbly, Ron pulled himself up and began to shuffle up the chain, towards the ceiling.
“Got you now, Potter!” cried Dolohov, standing triumphantly above Harry.
“Petrificus Totalus!” yelled Ron, pointing his wand in one hand and grasping the chain with the other.
Dolohov fell to the ground.
“Thanks Ron!” yelled Harry. “Hurry!”
Something jerked, Ron panicked! The chandelier was breaking!
Desperately, he shuffled up faster but not quick enough. The Chandelier snapped! With a yell, Ron pushed upward and clawed at the ceiling.
His finger brushed against the paint.
Ron felt parchment form in his hand. A brief sensation of euphoria, then he fell.
“WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA!”
Hermione screamed out the spell as Ron fell. It slowed him down, but wasn’t enough to stop him. With a defeated cry, Ron hit the ground.
Something grunted. Ron cautiously opened his eyes and laughed! He’d landed on top of Dolohov!
“Petrificus Totalus!” yelled Ron. Rookwood stiffened and fell. Narcissa shrieked! Neville had finally found his mark. All four Death Eaters were paralysed, but they were all trapped in a burning building, filling up rapidly with smoke.
Ron unwrapped the parchment and squinted.
Take an apple from my belly
Underwater snakes are heavy.