Butterfly Effect ; H. Potter

139. malfoy manor.

"Like 'ell you are," said the man called Scabior. "We know Stan Shunpike, 'e's put a bit of work our way."

There was another thud.

"I'b Bardy," said Ron, and Harry could tell that his mouth was full of blood. "Bardy Weadley."

"A Weasley?" rasped Greyback. "So you're related to blood traitors even if you're not a Mudblood. And lastly, your little girlfriend ..."

"My name is Penelope Clearwater," said Hermione. She sounded terrified, but convincing.

"What's your Blood Status?"

"Half-blood," said Hermione.

"Easy enough to check," said Scabior. "But the 'ole lot of 'em look like they could still be 'Ogwarts age –"

"We'b lebt," said Ron.

"Left, 'ave you, Ginger?" said Scabior. "And you decided to go camping? And you thought, just for a laugh, you'd use the Dark Lord's name?"

"Nod a laugh," said Ron. "Aggiden."

"Accident?" There was more jeering laughter.

"You know who used to like using the Dark Lord's name, Weasley?" growled Greyback. "The Order of the Phoenix. Mean anything to you?"

"Doh."

"Well, they don't show the Dark Lord proper respect, so the name's been Tabooed. A few Order members have been tracked that way. We'll see. Bind them up with the other three prisoners!"

Someone yanked Harry up by the hair, dragged him a short way, pushed him down into a sitting position, then started binding him back-to-back with other people. Harry was still half-blind, barely able to see anything through his puffed-up eyes. When at last the man tying them had walked away, Harry whispered to the other prisoners.

"Anyone still got a wand?"

"No," said Antheia, Ron, and Hermione from either side of him.

"This is all my fault. I said the name, I'm sorry –"

"Harry?"

It was a new, but familiar, voice, and it came from directly behind Harry, from the person tied to Antheia's left.

"Dean!" said Antheia.

"It is you! If they find out who they've got –! They're Snatchers, they're only looking for truants to sell for gold –"

"Not a bad little haul for one night," Greyback was saying, as a pair of hobnailed boots marched close by Harry and they heard more crashes from inside the tent.

"A Mudblood, a runaway goblin, and three truants. You checked their names on the list yet, Scabior?" he roared.

"Yeah. There's no Vernon Dudley on 'ere, Greyback."

"Interesting," said Greyback. "That's interesting."

He crouched down beside Harry, who saw, through the infinitesimal gap left between his swollen eyelids, a face covered in matted, grey hair and whiskers, with pointed brown teeth and sores at the corners of his mouth. Greyback smelled as he had done at the top of the Tower where Dumbledore had died: of dirt, sweat, and blood.

"So you aren't wanted, then, Vernon? Or are you on that list under a different name? What house were you in at Hogwarts?"

"Slytherin," said Harry automatically.

"Funny 'ow they all thinks we wants to 'ear that," jeered Scabior out of the shadows. "But none of 'em can tell us where the common room is."

"It's in the dungeons," said Harry clearly. "You enter through the wall. It's full of skulls and stuff and it's under the lake, so the light's all green."