Disclaimer: The fine tapestry of plot and characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am merely pulling threads at will and weaving my own design in counterpoint to hers.
Chapter 67
Engagement
Snapping to attention, Harry barked, “I’ll be back for you in a second, Tonks!” Before the words were fully out of his mouth, he Disapparated with Neville.
The animated conversations of the group in the root cellar stopped in mid-stream as they saw the white faces on Harry and Neville. Without hesitating more than a moment, Harry grabbed Shacklebolt’s arm “ he was the closest person “ and indicated wordlessly that they were both to return to the tunnel opening.
Catching sight of Tonks who was shakily making her way down the stairs, Shacklebolt glanced briefly at the closed trap door and then fairly exploded, “Where’s Remus?”
“He and Wormtail had a previous engagement,” Harry shot back as he wrapped his arms around Tonks in a comforting fashion. “I’ll explain in more detail once we’re on the other side of the cave-in. Those were Lupin’s last instructions.”
Shacklebolt nodded morosely as he encircled Tonks protectively before the three of them Apparated into the root cellar together. By the shocked faces that greeted them, it was clear Neville had already relayed the most recent events. A few whispered words from Tonks was all it took to convey the seriousness of their current situation to Shacklebolt.
“What’s out next step then?” he asked Harry. “Remus assured me you would know your way around better than the rest of us.”
“True, but a bit overzealous to say the least,” Harry explained as he drew forth the hastily sketched floor plan. “Here are the portions of the house Lupin showed me.”
They all poured over the sketch as Harry described the function of each room and identified the location of the cupboard housing the stairs to the cellar. With a pencil Hermione whipped out, Harry labeled the ground floor and upper story of his floor plan.
“This is a good starting point,” Shacklebolt affirmed, placing a reassuring hand on Harry’s shoulder. “It just needs a bit of tweaking.” With a few fancy moves from his wand, he touched the tip to the parchment and commanded, “Revelio!”
As if rising from the depths of the parchment, two bright red dots appeared in the main sitting room. The stationary one was labeled “Bellatrix Lestrange”; the one pacing back and forth was “Will Yaxley.” No other areas showed any additional bodies.
“We have them outnumbered then.” Neville sighed with relief.
“It’s still too big and too open an area in which to surround them,” Harry insisted as he pointed out all the various doors leading off the sitting room. “It would be ideal if we could somehow separate them first.”
“Let’s give them a few minutes on their own then,” Shacklebolt suggested. “They haven’t yet had time to become anxious over Wormtail’s failure to return.”
The minutes dragged by as they watched the dots move about in what was likely a rather spirited exchange to judge by the abrupt stops and turns of Yaxley’s figure. Bellatrix only moved once to approach one of the front windows, but when she returned to her previous spot, Yaxley seemed to turn on his heel and move deliberately towards the entrance hall.
“I think Her Highness just told Yaxley to see about Wormtail,” Tonks whispered. “We should ambush them while they’re out of sight of one another. Remember we want to avoid them calling for reinforcements.”
Harry looked at the expectant faces around him and made a command decision. There were seven of them and only two Death Eaters. “Does anyone have a watch?” he inquired. “Can we estimate how long it’s been since Remus disappeared with Wormtail?”
Shacklebolt looked up from his wrist. “It’s been approximately twenty to thirty minutes.”
“Long enough for him to come back on his own, don’t you think?” With a tone of voice that would brook no argument, Harry turned to his best pals. “Ron, Hermione, I want you to go after Remus. Find him, assist him as needed, bring him back.”
“But how--” Tonks started to protest, but Harry’s glare stopped her in mid-syllable.
“Tonks, are you familiar with the locales Remus uses when he follows the Order’s three-jump protocol?” he demanded softly.
At her glum headshake, Harry affirmed, “Then it has to be Hermione. Go to those same places as before. Follow your instincts “ the two of you are a lot more alike than you realize… Ron, back her up, be her muscle, whatever it takes, but bring him back!”
Ron and Hermione hastened to their feet and nodded that they understood the importance of their assignment. With a quick hitch of her rucksack, Hermione placed her hands confidently around Ron’s forearms and they Disapparated together.
There was only a brief moment of awed silence in the cellar as the others turned their heads expectantly in Harry’s direction. There was no longer any doubt who was in charge of the mission.
Lupin landed heavily on the damp, spongy ground, his hand twisting painfully as he tried to maintain a grip on Pettigrew’s good arm. Almost immediately, he felt his handhold slipping as Pettigrew awkwardly clutched a wand in his silver hand. With a tumble of shapeless clothes, the scoundrel transformed himself into a rat and scurried away through the mist.
Lupin struggled to keep the pale form in sight through the swirling fog, stumbling wildly in pursuit. He was barely able to draw his own wand before his foot landed sharply in a puddle that splashed his trousers with cold, black mud. The ground was rough and uneven, the mossy surface of the stones making them even more treacherous and slippery. Numerous times, Lupin was certain he would land on his face as he slid unexpectedly across a rock surface worn smooth.
He could feel the coldness of the mist in his lungs as he fought to keep pace, his clothes clinging damply to his body. But the discomfort was of no concern to him in his single-minded pursuit. The jets from his wand sent up small sprays of damp earth as Lupin vainly tried to hit his target with a Veritas Revelio spell.
The prevailing sea breeze slowly eased the mist as they neared the edge of the cliff face, making it easier for Lupin to take aim. With a jolt, the spell hit home. The fleeing rat seemed to struggle in mid-air briefly and then dissolved into Pettigrew’s muddy features swaying precariously atop a smooth stone, no more than a few feet from the edge of the precipice.
“Remus, was it your intent to run me blindly into the crashing waves below?” Pettigrew asked craftily.
“It was you who broke away from me, remember?” Lupin managed as he strained to simultaneously regain his breath and his balance. Luckily, the ground was more gravelly in this area and he was able to dig in his heels to halt his momentum.
“Hardly seems like a site conducive to a civilized chat,” Pettigrew continued. “What am I to think?”
“Darned English weather, you never know what to expect,” Lupin returned unapologetically. Just keep him talking, he reminded himself; distract him from the fact that he can call for reinforcements by simply pressing the Dark Mark tattooed on his flesh and blood arm.
Harry directed the attention of his remaining troops to the makeshift map. Hastily, he drew in the patio leading out from the back stairs.
“It’s only a few steps away from the door leading down to the cellar,” he explained. “Neville, Kingsley, both of you are assigned to Yaxley. Exit through the patio gate and circle around to intercept him. By the direction in which he was headed, I can only assume he went after Pettigrew. We need to disable him before he discovers the little rat has left the premises.”
Shacklebolt and Neville nodded resolutely as they started up the narrow staircase. Ginny grabbed Shacklebolt’s arm in passing and reminded him to silence the hinges on the cupboard doors; no need to draw Bellatrix’s attention prematurely. Harry watched as their two dots were added to those on the map.
“I don’t know how to bewitch that map so it will only reveal its secrets to you, or to someone with the requisite password,” Tonks cautioned in a whisper. “So unless Remus happened to teach either one of you, I suggest you keep it out of sight. It would be a very valuable tool in the hands of a Death Eater.”
Harry nodded, but when he went to bundle the scrap inside his Invisibility Cloak as an extra precaution, he realized that Neville still had the Cloak with him. Well, it might come in handy in his current assignment, Harry sighed as he folded the map and stuffed it deep into his pocket.
“I take it the three of us are going to go after the Queen Bee herself,” Ginny commented, her eyes dancing with danger.
“Yes,” Harry breathed, “and I have just the right bit of honey to tempt her with. Tonks, think back on the sight of Pettigrew as he stood at the top of the stairs. Can you visualize him exactly? Take your time.”
With visible effort, Tonks put her personal feeling aside, concentrating momentarily before she indicated the image was as detailed as she could make it. “I really had no more than a glimpse,” she reminded them.
“Can you duplicate his appearance?” Harry urged.
“All except his shoes; those are a blank,” Tonks responded.
“Improvise,” Harry commanded, his voice barely a whisper. “Think of something scuffed and shabby like the rest of him!”
“You have always been jealous of others, Remus!” Pettigrew jeered from his vantage point atop the smooth boulder.
“Only of their continued good health; I don’t deny that,” Lupin volunteered. “I would have given anything to shed the curse of the full moon. Do you blame me for that?”
The wind had picked up to the point where they practically had to shout to be heard, but at least the mist had retreated.
“Good health is a relative term. You never had to suffer through colds or influenza or any of the other ailments which plagued the rest of us. I remember you once gave yourself a massive hangover after one of James’ parties; but you never got a chill if you played Quidditch without a jacket!”
“The two situations are hardly comparable…But I have never envied the content of anyone else’s character, if that’s what you’re insinuating.” Lupin’s eyes flashed with rising anger.
“Why would you need to?” Pettigrew spat. “You were always McGonagall’s favorite!”
“She never treated me any differently than the rest of Gryffindor House.” Lupin sighed at Pettigrew’s familiar tirade.
“Only because you were always apprehended in the company of James and Sirius -- and sometimes myself. Of course, she had to treat us all the same for the same offense! It would have been different if you had been caught acting on your own.”
Lupin ignored the implications which were not based on a single shred of truth. “I guess we’ll never know, will we, Peter?” he returned dispassionately.
Lupin could see Pettigrew’s eyes darting nervously towards the land, searching fruitlessly for any sign of civilization. He might be better off worrying about the unexpected gales that often plagued the area. Lupin’s practiced eye glanced towards the thin ribbon of ocean just visible over Pettigrew’s shoulder. It was steel grey and choppy, meeting the colorless sky in an unbroken line. Nothing on the horizon in that direction, but that could change in the space of mere minutes; he knew that from personal experience.
“Still, you’re showering Harry with the same sort of favoritism,” Pettigrew returned with renewed venom. “Aren’t you afraid that will twist him?”
“What I do with Harry is none of your concern!” Lupin bellowed, doing his best to keep his voice from being swept away by the wind. “As for treating him differently than his peers, Harry does not share his classes with anyone else. We are free to treat one another in any way we see fit!”
“Yes, I can see exactly how jealous you always were of Sirius’ standing as Harry’s godfather,” Pettigrew answered smugly, gloating that he’d finally succeeded in baiting Lupin. “I suppose you were jealous of my favored status as James’ and Lily’s Secret-Keeper as well.”
“You forget that for the longest time I thought Sirius was the Secret-Keeper. But I’ve never been envious of a traitor, Peter. Whether that traitor turned out to be Sirius or you. In the end, Sirius and I had plenty of time to rehash all this ancient history. We were both sorry we didn’t kill you in the Shrieking Shack when we had the chance.”
“That was Harry’s doing. You should have warned him of the dangers of placing nobility ahead of expediency.”
“Obviously, a crisis of conscience you’ve never experienced,” Lupin commented dryly.
No matter how many times he watched Tonks transform herself, the true measure of her Metamorphmagus skills never ceased to amaze Harry. All his senses told him it was the weasely form of Peter Pettigrew before him; the lumpiness of his clothing and shapeless body effectively hiding the feminine aspects of Tonks’ physique. She was even the correct height to make the illusion perfect -- as long as she didn’t try to imitate his oily voice.
“We need to look like we’ve struggled a bit,” Harry suggested to Ginny as he reached over and partially untucked her blouse and mussed up her hair lovingly.
Her eyes shone in response as she pulled his tie askew and rubbed a small clump of dirt onto his cheek. “Hair looks like it’s already been through a hurricane,” she remarked playfully. She made as if to pull Harry in for a last minute kiss but Tonks’ wand was between them instantly.
“Not on your life,” she hissed. “Do you have any idea what you’ll be stepping into upstairs? That woman is a sadistic monster. She won’t hesitate to twist any emotion she can squeeze out of her victims. Don’t give her anything she can sink her teeth into. From now on, the only emotion I want to see in either of your faces is abject fear.”
With those sobering words, it was not so difficult to assume the correct demeanor, Harry concluded. He let himself imagine the feeling of entrapment as ‘Pettigrew’ conjured ropes from ‘his’ wand, binding him tightly to Ginny. He resisted the urge to search out her hand for reassurance; the close contact of her back against his would have to suffice.
Harry relinquished his wand to ‘Pettigrew’ so it would appear that the captives had been disarmed. He felt the comforting presence of his second wand in his other pocket. From Ginny’s squirming at his elbow, he concluded she must be tucking her wand more deeply into the waistband pocket of her skirt and making sure it was within easy reach.
Purposely leaving the cupboard hinges untouched, ‘Pettigrew’ threw the doors open and pushed ‘his’ captives through. Lashed together as they were, only a quick grab at Harry’s shirtsleeve kept them from tripping over the worn rug. Another loud squeal from the hinges was heard as the doors slammed shut.
“Who goes there?” Bellatrix’s voice rang out from the next room as ‘Pettigrew’ urged ‘his’ captives forward at wandpoint.
Bella was just starting to rise from her armchair when she caught sight of them. “Oh, Peter, how clever of you!” she cried, her tone like poisonous nectar. “A matched set! Won’t they look just delightful on the mantelpiece! I will have to rethink your dosage of rat poison for the day.”
Harry resisted the urge to survey his surroundings too brazenly lest she immediately suspect a ruse. As he eyes were drawn to Bella’s face, he could see the incipient psychosis he recalled from their previous encounter had now fully ripened. Next to him, Ginny’s body tensed apprehensively.
“Bring them better into the light, Peter. I want to make sure they haven’t been bruised by your brusque handling,” Bella urged greedily. “You know how the Dark Lord has always been a bit proprietorial when it came to Harry Potter himself… Such a coup for you, too. Despite how you always deny it, I can see how truly ambitious you are.”
‘Pettigrew’ assumed a very believable swaggering pose. Unfortunately, the lack of his usual bickering riposte was enough to alert Bellatrix that something was amiss.
“While I admit I prefer your quiet admiration, Peter, my mind is just suspicious enough to conceive that it would be so easy for my shape-shifting, meddlesome niece to have assumed your appearance,” Bella crooned. “Is that not so, Nymphadora?” She turned sharply in ‘Pettigrew’s’ direction, her eyes searching every inch of ‘his’ form for a detail that was out of place.
Harry held his breath as he waited for either one of them to blink first.
“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH PETER, THE RAT?” Bella demanded as she drew her wand with a flourish.
But Tonks was too fast for her, diving behind a faded chintz loveseat before Bella’s words were completed. Suddenly freed of their ropes, Harry and Ginny ducked instinctively behind a heavy wooden chest. Harry waited for the barrage of spells to start; but the room was so ominously silent, he could hear his own breathing. He inched his body forward on his elbows until he reached the corner of the chest. Catching Tonks’ surprised expression, he dared to turn towards Bellatrix’s armchair only to find it empty and a bit askew. Wordlessly, Tonks pointed towards the back corridor to indicate their quarry had dashed off in that direction.
Harry fully expected Bella to have escaped onto the back patio. That’s what he would have done under similar circumstances: get that brick wall between himself and his enemies. Instead, running footsteps could be heard retreating up the back stairs and into the rooms above.
“You should have pledged yourself to the Dark Lord.” Pettigrew’s face took on a sublime expression. “He would have embraced your unique talents.”
“Like he did with Fenrir Greyback?” Lupin returned disdainfully.
“Greyback’s methods are exceptionally crude… The Dark Lord would have given you much more elegant assignments.”
“The level of your magnanimity astounds me, Peter. Imagine doing a spot of recruiting for your master when you should be bargaining for your own life.”
“Is that why you lured me here today, Remus? To kill me without any witnesses?” Pettigrew taunted.
“If you must know, I grabbed you to keep your filthy paws off my wife!” Lupin barely managed to keep his voice even.
“Of course, I’d forgotten. Dear me!” Pettigrew’s tone was pure sarcasm. “Took you a while to find one, didn’t it? Considering you no longer had the pick of Sirius’ cast-offs. Or did you finally give up on waiting for Lily to come to her senses?”
Lupin sighed wearily. Pettigrew was a study in arrested development after twelve years of hiding in rat-face. “Don’t you ever tire of the same accusations, Peter? I admit I loved Lily “ we all did…Well, at least Sirius and I did. She was the sister that neither of us ever had. Must you always look at love through prurient eyes that only seek to debase it?”
If they had still been friends, he might have told Peter how much Tonks fulfilled him in ways he had long ago buried in the deepest recesses of his psyche; how her jubilant and adventurous spirit allowed them to share more than he ever thought possible. But they were no longer friends, that had been made abundantly clear sixteen years ago “ or even longer, if one could pinpoint exactly when Pettigrew had decided to become a Death Eater. Peter’s betrayal had been a consummate act of deliberate treachery: drawing James and Lily to their deaths, sentencing Sirius to a seemingly endless prison sentence for a crime he didn’t commit, and ostracizing both Harry and himself from those who loved and accepted them. No, the time for friendship was long past.
“I forgot, you’re the expert at everything, Remus. No one but Dumbledore himself could hold a candle to you! Why even Severus, with all his superior airs, only managed to obtain more N.E.W.T.s because you elected not to continue with Potions. I have no doubt your scores were superior to his.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Lupin returned impassively. “Not having ever had cause to review his qualifications prior to offering him a post…What does any of this prove, Peter?”
“That at least the Potters had no reason to doubt me when I announced I had found gainful employment and a flat of my own.”
“Oh, really? I always thought your master dissuaded you from listing ‘Accomplished Death Eater’ on your curriculum vitae. Might put off potential employers, don’t you think?”
“Enough of this! We’re not here to discuss me, Remus; we’re here to discuss you!”
“Pesky memo must have gotten lost again! Why is that, Peter?”
“Because this catharsis is the best eulogy I can give you,” Pettigrew proclaimed. With an furtive movement, he held up Lupin’s wand in triumph.
But Lupin had been ready for him and, undaunted, he replied, “Think again, Peter.” In a blur, he pulled his secondary wand from his inside pocket and sent both of the wands in Peter’s hand flying.
A particularly strong gust of wind caught the wands and swirled them out of Pettigrew’s immediate reach. With a grimace, Pettigrew threw his body high into the air as he lunged for the closest wand. It rebounded on his silver hand and tumbled towards the mossy ground. He dived low, almost catching it when he started to back-pedal with all his might. From four feet away, Lupin helplessly watched as the muddy ground gave way beneath Pettigrew’s feet, sending him into the chasm of crashing waves below.
Without a moment’s hesitation, Lupin rushed as close to the precipice as he dared, then laid down and inched his way closer to the edge. Granite rocks shaped like gigantic dragon’s teeth jutted up from the churning sea. The very air was so saturated with moisture that Lupin found his wet hair hanging in his eyes within moments. Ignoring his discomfort, he eased himself slightly forward to peer down into the foamy water. No one could have survived such a fall, he thought as his sopping wet tie flopped out of his jacket. Belatedly, he realized he’d left his tie tack next to his pocket watch “ both resting safely atop his bureau at Hogwarts.
Spying what looked like a crude trail leading down to the inhospitable shoreline, Lupin began to turn away when he felt a sharp tug on his tie. Thinking it snagged on a rock, he grabbed it with his other hand and gave a mighty yank, not caring at the moment whether it tore. To his surprise, something yanked back. Yanked back with so much unexpected vehemence that the air to his windpipe was cut off. His vision occluding with dark clouds around the edges was accompanied by the disorienting sensation of tumbling head first into nothingness.
The white grains of sand on which she landed twisted her foot. Hermione felt Ron’s hands release her arms as their bodies tumbled into a soft pile. The morning sun was inviting on their upturned faces as they looked up at a perfectly azure sky. Sounds of the gentle waves provided a backdrop to the screeching gulls overhead. ‘Who disturbed our private feeding ground?’ they seemed to protest.
Hermione brushed the sand off of her dark skirt as she struggled to her feet. Bending over to grab her rucksack, she practically collided with Ron who was doing likewise. She laughed at how close they had come to a painful head butt.
“Let’s walk down closer to the water’s edge where the sand will be more compacted,” she suggested.
“Are you sure we’re in the right place?” Ron asked anxiously. “It’s totally deserted.”
“That’s pretty much the way it was in December,” Hermione assured him, although that day had been a study in shades of grey. Today, the early summer had transformed the beach into a secluded and inviting enclave, far from the fumes and rumble of civilization. “I’m certain this is the same place. I remember the shape of that headland in the distance.”
Resisting the urge to wade barefoot through the warm surf, they walked a short distance down the pristine sand.
“I don’t think they’re here, Hermione,” Ron offered tentatively. “We can see quite a distance along the shoreline in both directions. It’s just us on this beach. No tracks in the sand or anything.”
Wishing she had thought to borrow the Omnioculars before they set off, Hermione reluctantly concluded it would take too long to make an absolutely thorough search of the coastline.
“For the sake of time, we have to assume they aren’t here,” she agreed. “Let’s try the next stop.”
“Hermione, did Harry give us a rendezvous point for our return?” Ron inquired gingerly. “You know, in case we don’t find--”
She turned on him with a ferocity she had never known she possessed. “That is not an option! Didn’t you see the look on Harry’s face? FAILURE IS NO LONGER A WORD IN OUR VOCABULARY!”
Ron gulped in surprise and nodded that he understood. “I just wish I had more of an idea where he could’ve taken Pettigrew…”
“I have another spot we can search,” Hermione offered decisively. “Please, grab my arms like you did before.”
With a last caress of buttery sunlight on their shoulders, they Disapparated as one.
With mounting dread, Harry slowly eased his way up the staircase, Tonks and Ginny right at his heels. The wand Tonks had returned to him was slippery in his damp palm.
He reached the top of the stairs and darted into the open doorway to his right, counting on Ginny and Tonks to cover him. The room Lupin had identified as his parents’ bedroom stood empty, the dark furniture covered with such a thick layer of dust that it resembled a blanket of snow. Beyond the sitting room, a open archway led into a second room dominated by a large four-poster bed.
He eased his way forward to ascertain that the bedchamber was empty as well. Tonks gingerly opened a door just to the right of the brick fireplace and whispered that it led to a private bath.
“I know this room must be fascinating to you,” Tonks breathed in his ear. “But we don’t have time for a house tour.”
Harry nodded solemnly and inched the map out of his pocket. Instantly, he found the three dots labeled with their names as well as another identified as Bellatrix in the room across the hall. Resisting the urge to locate Neville and Shacklebolt, Harry hastily tucked the map out of sight.
He took a cursory look around the timbered ceiling rafters, but everything seemed intact. This had not been the site of the attack then. A soft rustle from the hallway caused him to whip his head in that direction. Silhouetted in the doorframe stood Bellatrix, her wand drawn but held down at her side.
“If you’re looking for the site of your foolish father’s last stand, love, you’ll need to lean way out the windows at the back,” she offered like a poisonous spider. “The Dark Lord ambushed him on the patio; there’s still a huge commemorative crack in the fish pond. It’s a shame the blast didn’t inter some of his bone fragments in the cement so you could make a proper pilgrimage.”
With a virulent cackle and a blur of inky smoke, she Disapparated.
The first thing she noticed was the change in temperature. It was suddenly much colder, with a dampness in the air that allowed it to seep into her very pores. Once again she tumbled out of Ron’s arms, this time onto a squishy, moss-covered surface. Before her, the horizon was indistinct, with low-lying clouds or mist that was indistinguishable from the colorless sky. In the other direction, it was bounded by a tiny strip of grey ocean. The next crashing wave sent a plume of fine mist beyond the high cliff face on which they stood.
“Is this the place you were before?” Ron fairly shouted to be heard over the sound of the waves. “Lupin sure has an obsession with the seashore.”
Hermione surmised it was the remote and untouched nature of the locales that resonated with Lupin’s love of the outdoors, but this was hardly the time for a philosophical discussion.
“It was considerably colder in December,” Hermione confirmed. “Although I was better dressed for it… We need to split up to search better; I’ll take the left…. And here,” she reached into her rucksack and pulled out a worn Chudley Canons sweatshirt. “I know it’s the old one you gave me, so it may be a bit snug; but none of the other things I packed will fit you.”
“Thanks,” Ron mumbled as he struggled to get his arms in the sleeves. Already the silkiness of his tie felt moist and slippery.
Hermione threw a hooded jumper over her blouse and school tie, then wiggled into a pair of corduroy jeans. As she stashed the now superfluous pleated skirt, she couldn’t help but notice how clammy the wool had become in just those few minutes.
“Just make sure you don’t wander out of sight,” Ron cautioned as he took off slowly in the opposite direction.
Hermione searched the uneven rocks before her, but she could find no signs of any recent human presence. Closer to the cliff face, she saw the large smooth rock where she and Lupin had warmed themselves before. Running her hand across the granite surface that had been polished by eons of seawater, she felt an indescribable certainty that this was where Lupin had brought Pettigrew. If only she could find some clue to indicate the direction in which they had headed.
As she looked over her shoulder, she caught sight of Ron waving his arms wildly. He appeared to be shouting, also, but his words were lost to the wind. Hermione turned on her heel and trotted up to meet him.
“Did you find anything?” she panted anxiously.
Ron screwed up his face. “I’m not so sure, but I wanted to get your opinion. See this area here that seems like it’s been churned up a bit, but then there are only one set of footprints leading off …and here’s a handprint in the mud.” He scanned the desolate horizon in vain.
“Clearly someone was here recently,” Hermione agreed. “If Pettigrew transformed into a rat, that would account for there being only one set of human tracks.”
“It’s not likely we’re going to be able to distinguish rat prints in this muck,” Ron commiserated.
As they slowly followed the irregular footprints, she did not mention that in rat form, Pettigrew would be infinitely more difficult to chase and corner. After a few hundred feet or so, the tracks stopped abruptly in a bit of loose gravel. A few feet ahead was the familiar flat rock, a natural dais from which to command a view of the ocean.
“I don’t think he went as far as that rock,” Ron offered.
“Well, if either one of them Disapparated from here, I haven’t a bloody chance of knowing where they went!” Hermione cried in desperation as the enormity of their task came crashing down upon her.
“Don’t despair, Hermione,” Ron offered gently as he wrapped his arm protectively around her shoulders. “Let’s look around a bit more now that we’ve gotten this far….I’ll just see if I can get a better view from the rock.”
“Careful, Ron, it’s bound to be slippery,” Hermione cautioned as she held onto one of his legs in support. She noticed the next wave came perilously close to sending its spray as far as Ron’s shoes.
“There’s a bit of churned up gravel over there,” Ron pointed excitedly as he jumped to the far side of the rock. “It looks like they changed direction, moving more towards the beach.”
“It’s a long drop to the ocean, Ron; I doubt there’s any beach at all. Take a moment to ease nearer to the cliff edge and you’ll see what I mean.”
The closer Ron stepped to the edge, though, the softer and more infirm the mossy surface became. He tried approaching the precipice at different angles, all with similar results. Resigned to the fact that they were going to get muddy, they eased themselves on their hands and knees, then on their bellies to get a better look.
Sure enough, a huge chunk of mud had collapsed into the breakers below. The scar it had left on the cliff face was unmistakable.
“Dear, Merlin!” Hermione gasped. “No one could have survived such a fall! Those rocks are like raised bayonets.”
“Are you certain they even came this way?”
With a sob, Hermione pointed shakily to a small wooden stick partially sandwiched between two clumps of black mud. It was a broken piece of wand.
Unsure of his next move, Harry hurriedly drew the map out of his pocket once more, Ginny and Tonks clustering around for a better look. Inexplicably, Bellatrix had retreated only as far as the room across the hall, the room Lupin had identified as the nursery.
“It’s like she’s trying to lure us there,” Tonks hissed.
“Setting the trap,” Ginny added with a quaver.
“And we’re going to turn it around on her!” Harry announced confidently, although he had no details or plan to back his statement. “Keep together and cover one another,” he ordered as he led them cautiously across the short expanse of worn carpet.
Harry threw the door open and stepped boldly inside the room that had been his as a infant. Tonks and Ginny were a half step behind and flanked him immediately, wands drawn and ready.
It was a scene of utter chaos. Other than a wooden rocking horse that had broken in half, it was difficult to say what the contents of the room had been at one time. Now, they were no more than singed scraps of fabric and kindling-sized pieces of wood, little matchsticks broken by the hand of some cosmic god. The tattered remains of a curtain fluttered lightly in the breeze from a window that had been half torn from its frame. Shelves were sagging ominously even though they had been built into the wall. Harry could only imagine what kind of out-flowing of power could have caused such destruction.
In the middle of the debris sat Bellatrix, calmly rocking herself in the one piece of furniture that had somehow escaped annihilation.
“Hard to believe your mother took such pains to refurbish this room especially for you,” she taunted with a sinister smirk.
“How could you possibly know that?” Ginny shot back angrily before Harry could stop her.
Bellatrix fixed her beady eyes on Ginny as Harry felt all the hairs on his arms tingle in warning.
“The rat likes to talk,” she answered as if she were throwing a bone to a mangy dog.
“What else did Peter say?” Harry prodded Bella -- anything to keep her gaze away from Ginny. “Did he tell you what happened to my parents’ bodies?”
“Bones, boy, bones!” she corrected him. “Nothing else would be left after all these years.”
“Did he bury them like he buried the hatchet in their backs?” Harry allowed the outrage to burn slowly in his eyes.
Bellatrix laughed raucously. “Just because I prefer black, don’t confuse me with the funeral director! You’ll have to squeeze that bit of information from Peter himself. He’s the one who’s been prancing around the estate for the past few years. Making out like he’s claiming his droit du seigneur “ as if he were likely to convince any of the village maids of the existence of a grand manor house they’ve never seen!”
The ebb and flow of the crashing waves had become their entire universe as Hermione sobbed inconsolably on Ron’s shoulder. He slowly stroked the damp curls from her forehead as he gazed unseeing at the breakers below. As the tide pulled back in anticipation of a particularly large wave, he saw it. A trail of sorts leading down from the cliff.
“Remember what you said about not giving up,” Ron whispered as he hastily drew his sleeve across his face. “I think there’s a way down. We owe it to Harry to check it out.” He was about to add they owed it to Remus, as well, but he wasn’t certain he would be able to get the words out.
Hermione peered anxiously in the direction he had pointed, shaking her head that she didn’t see.
“Just wait until the tide pulls back,” he urged, tenderly wiping the tears from her eyes so she could see better.
“Oh, Ron, it’s there! It’s really there!” Then with the next breath, she added, “We’re going to get soaked to the skin if we go down there…. Perhaps the tide is going down. Is it going down?”
“Nope. Slowly rising would be my guess, but we don’t have time to delay, anyway… Too bad we don’t have a rope, though.”
“I didn’t think to pack one, sorry,” Hermione moaned. “Give me your tie, instead.”
Not sure what she was getting at, Ron nevertheless pried the damp knot loose and handed her his Gryffindor tie. Hermione knotted it securely to the narrow end of her tie, then handed him one of the broad ends to hold.
“Stretch it so it’s taut,” she commanded as she held onto the other end. “I want to get the maximum length.”
With a wordless incantation and a swirling motion to her wand, the ties transfigured themselves into a short length of gold and red rope.
“Perhaps if I added my belt to it,” Ron suggested helpfully.
“Only if you’re already using a rope to hold up your trousers,” Hermione returned. “The spell won’t work on leather.”
As best they could, they worked their way down the irregularly hewn steps, digging their fingers into the minute crevices of the cliff for support as the waves washed around them. They had tied the ends of the rope to their belt loops to keep them side-by-side and provide a bit of extra security in case of a missing handhold. It would also allow a particularly angry wave to pull them to their deaths together, but neither one of them wanted to mention that.
Harry Potter and the Hero's Lament by L A Moody
Chapter Notes: An encounter with the welcoming committee; the group splits up with Ron and Hermione being sent on an auxiliary mission.