The Potter Twins and the Deathly Hallows {7}

37. Underground

Riley dissolves into sobs which seem to engulf his entire body, and I rush to his side, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and grabbing one of Ron's hands. I know how he feels: pursuing another Horcrux won't bring the satisfaction of revenge; I want to fight, too, to punish them, the people who killed Fred, and I want to find Dad, and Sirius, and the other Weasleys, and make quite sure that they're not -- but I can't permit the idea to form in my mind.

"We will fight!" Hermione says. "We'll have to, to reach the snake! But let's not lose sight, now, of what we're supposed to be d--doing! Riley's right, we're the only ones who can end it."

She's crying too, and she wipes her face on her torn, and singed sleeve and she speaks, but she takes great and heaving breaths to calm herself as she turns to Harry and me.

"You need to find out where Voldemort is, because he'll have the snake with him, won't he? Do it -- look inside him!"

Why is it so easy? Because our scars have been burning for hours, yearning to show us Voldemort's thoughts? We close our eyes, and at once, the screams and the bangs and all the discordant sounds of the battle are drowned until they become distant, as though I'm standing far, far away from them...

He's standing in the middle of a desolate but strangely familiar room, with peeling paper on the walls and all the windows boarded except for one. The sounds of the assault on the castle are muffled and distant. The single unblocked window reveals distant bursts of light where the castle stands, but inside the room, it is dark except for a solitary oil lamp.

He's rolling his wand between his fingers, watching it, his thoughts on the Room in the castle, the secret Room only he had ever found, the Room, like the Chamber, that you had to be clever, and cunning, and inquisitive to disocver...he's confident that the twins will not find the diadem...although Dumbledore's puppets have come much further than he had ever expected them too...too far...

"My lord," says a voice, desperate and cracked. He turns: there is Lucius Malfoy sitting in the darkest corner, ragged and still bearing the marks of the punishment he had received after the twins' escapes. One of his eyes remains closed and puffy. "My lord...please...my son..."

"If your son is dead, Lucius, it is not my fault. He did not come to join me, like the rest of the Slytherins. Perhaps he has decided to reunite with Haylee Potter?"

"No -- never," whispers Lucius.

"You must hope not."

"Aren't -- aren't you afraid, my Lord, that the Potters might die at another hand but yours?" asks Lucius, his voice shaking. "Wouldn't it be...forgive me...more prudent to call off the battle, enter the castle and seek them y--yourself?"

"Do not pretend, Lucius. You wish the battle to cease so that you can discover what has happened to your son. And I do not need to seek the Potters. Before the night is out, the Potters will have come to find me."

Voldemort drops his gaze once more to the wand in his fingers. It's troubling him...and the things that trouble Lord Voldemort need to be rearranged...

"Go and fetch Snape."

"Snape, m-my Lord?"

"Snape. Now. I need him. There is a -- service -- I require from him Go."

Frightened, stumbling a little through the gloom, Lucius leaves the room. Voldemort continues to stand there, twirling the wand between his fingers, staring at it.

"It is the only way, Nagini," he whispers, and he looks around, and there is the great, thick snake now suspended in mid-air, twisting gracefully within the enchanted, protected space he has made for her, a starry, transparent sphere somewhere between glittering cage and tank.