April 5th, 1998
Emma
The night air was thick with tension as Emma and her companions were escorted to Malfoy Manor by the Death Eaters. The path to the manor was shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by the faint glow of wands and the eerie moonlight filtering through the clouds.
The imposing silhouette of Malfoy Manor loomed ahead, its grandeur juxtaposed against the sinister atmosphere of the night. The manor's ancient walls seemed to whisper secrets of a dark past, and the group's footsteps echoed ominously on the cobblestones as they approached.
The Death Eaters maintained a tight grip on their captives, their faces hidden behind masks that added to the sense of foreboding.
Emma's heart raced with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation as they neared the imposing gates of Malfoy Manor.
The walk felt endless, each step accompanied by the weight of uncertainty and the knowledge that they were entering the lion's den.
The air crackled with tension, and Emma couldn't help but steal glances at Draco's home, wondering what awaited them within its walls.
As they reached the imposing doors of Malfoy Manor, one of the Death Eaters raised a gloved hand and knocked with a heavy thud.
"What is this?" The cold voice of a woman pierced the air as they entered, demanding to know their purpose.
"We're here to see He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" Greyback's voice rasped, filled with a mixture of anticipation and menace.
The woman's voice turned questioning, seeking to identify the intruders. "Who are you?"
"You know me!" Greyback's response dripped with resentment. "Fenrir Greyback! We've caught Harry and Emma Potter!"
With a rough grip, Greyback seized Harry and forcibly turned him to face the light, causing the other prisoners to shuffle around to adjust to the sudden movement and brightness.
Emma's eyes widened as she recognized the woman before her—it was Narcissa, Draco's mother.
A fleeting moment of confusion flashed across Narcissa's face, barely noticeable amidst the chaos. "Bring them in," she said.
Emma and the others were shoved and kicked up broad stone steps into a hallway lined with portraits.
"Follow me," said Narcissa, leading the way across the hall. "My son, Draco, is home for his Easter holidays as well as Octavia Rosier. If that is Harry and Emma Potter, they will know."
The drawing room dazzled after the darkness outside; even with her eyes almost closed Emma could make out the wide proportions of the room. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, more portraits against the dark purple walls.
Bellatrix Lestrange stood there, her presence commanding attention as she surveyed the newcomers with a mixture of curiosity and malice. The tension in the room was palpable, amplified by the uncertainty of what awaited them.
Bellatrix's voice cut through the tense air as she demanded, "What is this?" Her eyes, sharp and calculating, fixed on the group of prisoners brought into the drawing room.
"They say they've got Potter," said Narcissa's cold voice.
Harry, Emma, and the others stood under her scrutinizing gaze, feeling the weight of her presence like a heavy shroud.
Emma took a deep breath, trying to maintain composure despite the fear that clenched at her heart.
Narcissa excused herself, leaving to find Draco and Octavia Rosier. Emma's heart raced with anticipation and anxiety, knowing that their fate hung in the balance within the walls of this imposing manor.
It felt like hours passed in the suffocating silence of the room, each moment laden with tension and uncertainty. Then, Octavia Rosier entered the scene.
Her once golden and sunny persona had faded under the weight of her experiences, transforming her into a ghost of the person she once was.
Her golden hair, once vibrant and flowing, now appeared tangled and unkempt, and dark circles marred the skin under her eyes.
Emma's heart sank at the sight of Octavia, a wave of sorrow washing over her as she realized how much her friend had suffered.
Bellatrix's voice, tinged with impatience and suspicion, broke the silence again. "Well? You were her friend. Is this Potter?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing as she awaited Octavia's response.
Octavia's silence spoke volumes, her inner turmoil evident in the way her eyes flitted between Bellatrix's piercing stare and Emma's somber yet determined expression.
Caught between loyalty to her past friend and the fear of the repercussions of her answer, Octavia hesitated, her lips parting as if to speak but no words escaping.
Slowly, tentatively, Octavia approached Emma, her steps echoing the weight of their shared history and the unspoken complexities of their current situation.
Their eyes met, and in that fleeting moment, a whirlwind of emotions danced between them — regret, longing, and the unspoken bond of friendship struggling to survive amidst chaos.
"I don't know," Octavia finally whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling fireplace and the tension in the room.
With a heavy sigh, she turned away, her gaze fixed on the flickering flames as if seeking solace in their warmth and light.
Emma glanced at Octavia with a mixture of gratitude and sorrow. Despite the distance between them, she could sense that her friend's true self was still there, hidden beneath layers of fear and uncertainty, silently protecting her.
Draco
Draco sat in his room at Malfoy Manor, lost in thought, when the urgent entrance of his mother interrupted his solitude.
"Draco, it's Emma. She's here," Narcissa announced, her tone carrying a sense of urgency and concern.
"What?" Draco's concern spiked instantly, his mind racing with questions and apprehensions about Emma's unexpected presence at the manor.
"Emma? Here? What's happened?" he asked, already moving to get up from his seat.
Narcissa quickly stepped forward, placing a calming hand on Draco's shoulder.
"It's important that you remain composed, Draco," she advised, her voice firm but gentle. "We must handle this situation carefully to protect ourselves and our interests."
Narcissa's expression remained composed, yet a hint of concern flashed in her eyes.
"They were brought here with Harry, and other two kids," she explained calmly. "Harry and Emma appear to have been stung by what looks like a Stinging Jinx. They need you and the Rosier girl to identify them."
Draco's frustration bubbled to the surface, evident in the way he ran a hand through his hair in agitation. "They'll find out soon enough."
Narcissa nodded, understanding her son's emotions. "I know, Draco, but we must approach this with caution," she insisted. "We don't know the full extent of the situation yet."
Draco took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions. "What should I do, then?" he asked, looking to his mother for guidance.
Narcissa's gaze softened as she spoke. "Wait for my signal. I will handle the initial interactions with Emma," she explained. "We need to assess the situation before making any decisions."
Draco nodded, albeit reluctantly. "Alright," he said, his tone reflecting his inner turmoil. "I'll wait for your signal."
Narcissa placed a reassuring hand on Draco's arm. "Trust me, Draco," she said with a reassuring smile. "We'll handle this together."
They quickly descended the stairs, and Draco's heart raced with a mix of anticipation and dread.
As he surveyed the scene before him, his eyes quickly found her—Emma.
And even though she looked unrecognizable, her green eyes shone through the chaos, unmistakable and hauntingly familiar.
It was her, his Emma, the object of his dreams and hopes, standing amidst the uncertainty and danger.
Draco and Emma's eyes met across the room, a moment frozen in time amidst the chaos and tension. Despite the circumstances, a faint smile tugged at the corners of Emma's lips as she gazed back at Draco.
Lucius approached Draco, his voice carrying a tone of urgency and calculation. "Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv—"
However, before Lucius could finish, Greyback's menacing voice cut in sharply. "Now, we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mr. Malfoy?"
Lucius hastily responded, his impatience evident. "Of course not, of course not!"
Draco, maintaining a cold facade, remarked, "They look horrendous. It can't be them."
Lucius grabbed the back of Draco's neck and pushed him forward towards Emma. "Look closely!" he urged, his voice laced with urgency.
Draco gazed at Emma, his beautiful Emma, feeling a rush of emotions flood through him.
Despite months of separation, her presence was unmistakable, and the love he felt for her surged within him, as if it had never wavered.
Bellatrix's impatience grew palpable as she demanded, "Well? Is it them or not?"
Draco took a deep breath, his heart pounding with conflicting emotions. He knew the consequences of his decision could be dire, but his love for Emma and the desire to protect her outweighed everything else.
"They're not the ones," Draco stated firmly, his voice carrying a hint of conviction that surprised even himself.
Greyback's protest was immediate. "But I'm sure—"
Bellatrix cut him off, her impatience turning into a simmering anger. "Enough of this nonsense! Are they Potter and the girl or not?"
Draco stood his ground, his facade of indifference masking a storm of emotions inside.
As Bellatrix's impatience escalated, she moved quickly and grabbed Emma by her hair, causing her to yelp in pain.
Her grip was firm, her eyes burning with a dangerous intensity as she demanded an answer from Draco.
Draco tightened his jaw, a flicker of defiance in his eyes despite the tense situation.
Bellatrix chuckled manically, her tone dripping with malice. "Well, if it isn't her, you won't mind this."
With a swift motion, she drew her knife and cut Emma's cheek, leaving a painful mark as a cruel testament to her impatience.
Emma let out a pained grunt as Bellatrix grabbed her hair, but Draco remained silent, his inner turmoil palpable. He fought the urge to rush to Emma's side, to whisk her away from the danger and flee.
Bellatrix, in her impatience and cruelty, stabbed Emma, causing Draco's restraint to shatter.
"Stop!" Draco's voice cut through the tense air like a thunderclap.
Everyone froze, the realization sinking in that their cover had been blown.
Bellatrix's maniacal laughter filled the room, echoing off the walls like a sinister melody. "Oh, Draco, your loyalties haven't changed," she taunted, her eyes glinting with malice.
With a swift motion, she threw Emma to the ground, the impact causing Emma to grunt in pain.
Draco's eyes darted with panic, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to maintain his composure.
As Bellatrix advanced towards Draco, her movements predatory and menacing, Narcissa stepped in between them, her own expression a mix of determination and concern.
The tension in the room was palpable, like a tightly coiled spring ready to snap at any moment.
"Enough, Bellatrix," Narcissa's voice was firm, though there was a hint of desperation underlying her words. She held her ground, a barrier between Draco and the looming threat of Bellatrix's wrath.
Bellatrix's laughter subsided into a dangerous smirk, her eyes gleaming with a twisted sense of satisfaction.
"You've always been soft, Cissy," she sneered, her tone dripping with contempt.
Draco's gaze flickered between his mother and Bellatrix, his mind racing with the gravity of the situation.
He knew that their cover had been shattered, and the consequences would be dire
Suddenly, Bellatrix's eyes were drawn to something else.
"Stop!" she shrieked, her voice piercing the tense atmosphere. There was a bang and a flash of red light: Draco knew that the Snatcher had been Stunned.
Anger erupted among the Death Eaters, with Scabior drawing his wand in response.
"What d'you think you're playing at, woman?" Scabior demanded, his voice laced with fury.
But Bellatrix was relentless. "Stupefy!" she screamed, unleashing spells with deadly accuracy.
One by one, the Death Eaters fell under her powerful magic, overwhelmed despite their numbers. Bellatrix's prowess as a witch was undeniable, her skill matched only by her lack of conscience.
They lay defeated where they stood, all except Greyback, who had been forced into a kneeling position, his arms outstretched in surrender.
Draco glimpsed Bellatrix bearing down upon the werewolf, the sword of Gryffindor gripped tightly in her hand, her expression eerily calm yet determined.
"Where did you get this sword?" she whispered to Greyback as she effortlessly pulled his wand out of his unresisting grip.
"They had it," rasped Greyback. "Release me, I say!"
Bellatrix waved her wand, and the werewolf sprang to his feet, but he appeared too wary to approach her. Prowling behind an armchair, his filthy curved nails clutching its back, Greyback awaited further orders.
"Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback. The traitor Malfoy too." commanded Bellatrix.
"Wait," she said sharply. "All except . . . except for the Mudblood." Greyback grunted in pleasure at her words.
"No!" shouted Ron. "You can have me, keep me!"
Bellatrix's response was swift and brutal. She struck Ron across the face, the sound echoing in the room.
"If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next," she threatened. "Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book. Take them downstairs, Greyback, and make sure they are secure, but do nothing more to them — yet."
With a toss, she returned Greyback's wand to him, then retrieved a short silver knife from under her robes. Cutting Hermione free from the other prisoners, she dragged her by the hair into the middle of the room.
Meanwhile, Greyback compelled the remaining prisoners to shuffle toward another door, his wand projecting an invisible and irresistible force, leading them into a dark passageway.
They were herded down a steep flight of stairs, their bindings making each step precarious, the risk of slipping and falling ever-present.
At the bottom awaited a heavy door, which Greyback unlocked with a tap of his wand. With a forceful shove, he pushed them into a dank and musty room, plunging them into total darkness.
The echoing slam of the cellar door reverberated, filling the room with a haunting finality. It was in this ominous silence that a terrible, drawn-out scream pierced the air from directly above them, sending shivers down their spines.
In the darkness, Draco rushed to Emma's side, his heart pounding with anxiety and urgency. It had been months since they last saw each other, and the fear of what might have happened to her amplified his desperation to check her well-being.
Draco's hands fumbled in the darkness, searching for Emma's. "Emma, are you alright?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.
Emma's voice was strained as she responded, "I'm fine, Draco, just shaken up."
Their eyes met in the dimness, an unspoken connection bridging the space between them. Then, with a surge of emotion, they leaned into each other, their lips meeting in a passionate and desperate kiss that spoke of months apart and a tumultuous reunion.
"Hermione!" Ron's voice echoed through the darkness, his desperation palpable as he struggled against the ropes binding them together.
Harry, trying to maintain composure, urged him to quiet down and focus on finding a way out.
"Be quiet, Ron," Harry urged, his voice tense with urgency. "We need to work out a plan."
But Ron's frantic calls continued, his voice rising in panic. "HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"
Amidst the chaos, a whisper cut through the darkness. "Harry? Ron? Is that you?"
Harry looked at the approaching figure, "Luna?"
"Yes, it's me! Oh no, I didn't want you to be caught!" Luna replied.
"Luna, can you help us get these ropes off?" said Harry.
"Oh yes, I expect so. . . . There's an old nail we use if we need to break anything. . . . Just a moment . . ."
Hermione's screams from above mingled with Bellatrix's, creating a cacophony of fear and tension. But Luna remained focused on her task, searching for the nail.
"Mr. Ollivander?" Harry could hear Luna saying. "Mr. Ollivander, have you got the nail? If you just move over a little bit. . . I think it was beside the water jug. . . ."
She returned within seconds, her determination evident. "You'll need to stay still," she said, her voice steady amidst the chaos.
Draco held Emma by the waist, his grip gentle yet firm, his worry palpable as he inspected the spot where Bellatrix had stabbed her, his fingers tracing the area cautiously.
"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.
Emma winced slightly but managed a nod. "Yes, I don't think she hit anything serious," she reassured him, trying to mask the pain in her voice.
From upstairs, the tense echo of Bellatrix's voice reverberated through the cellar. "I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?"
"We found it — we found it — PLEASE!" Hermione's plea filled the air, a desperate cry for mercy. Ron's struggles intensified, causing the rusty nail to slip onto Harry's wrist with a sharp prick.
Ron banged on the cellar walls in a futile attempt to find an escape route.
"There's no way out, Ron," Luna said, her voice tinged with resignation. "The cellar is completely escape-proof. I tried, at first. Mr. Ollivander has been here for a long time, he's tried everything."
Hermione's screams pierced the air once more, sending a jolt of agony through Harry. He felt the scar on his forehead prickling fiercely, a grim reminder of the impending danger.
In a desperate frenzy, Harry too began to run around the cellar, his hands feeling the walls in a frantic search, although deep down, he knew it was futile.
"What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!" Bellatrix's voice echoed Hermione's screams, intensifying the atmosphere of terror.
Ron was half sobbing as he pounded the unyielding walls with his fists, his frustration palpable in the dark, suffocating space.
Harry, desperate for a way out of the terrifying situation, turned to Draco with urgency. "You live here, Draco. There must be a way out, some hidden passage or secret exit," he pleaded.
Draco, equally desperate, nodded in agreement. "There must be, but the cellars were changed by Bellatrix. It is nothing like what I knew." he whispered, his mind racing to find a solution amid the chaos.
However, their conversation was abruptly interrupted as the cellar door swung open, and Fenrir Greyback roughly threw Hermione inside, her barely conscious form collapsing on the floor.
Ron rushed to her side, his concern evident in his frantic movements.
Fenrir's cold voice cut through the tense air, "We will be back," he declared ominously before slamming the door shut, leaving them in darkness once again.
The group rushed to Hermione's side, their concern palpable in the dimly lit cellar. Ron knelt beside her, gently cradling her head in his hands, while Harry and Draco examined her for injuries.
Luna, with her usual calm demeanor, fetched some water and a cloth to tend to Hermione's wounds.
"She's burning up," Ron said with worry, wiping sweat from Hermione's forehead.
"We need to cool her down," Luna suggested, wetting the cloth and placing it on Hermione's forehead.
As the others tended to Hermione, Emma stayed still, her eyes darting between her friends, worry etched on her face.
As the reality of their capture settled in, Emma felt a rising sense of dread. The memories of her past kidnapping, like haunting specters, clawed at the edges of her consciousness, threatening to pull her into the abyss of fear.
Draco, sensing Emma's unease, approached her and tightened his grip around her hand. His stormy gray eyes, usually composed, flickered with concern.
"Emma," he whispered, his voice a steady anchor in the midst of uncertainty, "I'm here. We're in this together."
But the echoes of her past proved too powerful, triggering a sudden onslaught of panic. Emma's breath quickened, and her heart raced as the cellar walls seemed to close in on her.
The distant sounds merged with the haunting echoes of her traumatic memories, blurring the lines between past and present.
Draco, recognizing the signs of a panic attack, pulled Emma gently into a corner away from the prying eyes of the others.
He crouched down to be at eye level with her, his touch grounding and reassuring. "Emma, look at me," he urged, his voice calm but firm.
Emma's teary eyes met Draco's, seeking refuge in the storm of her own emotions. "I can't..." she began, her words caught in the grip of anxiety.
Draco, with a tenderness that belied the harsh reality around them, cupped her face in his hands.
"I won't let anyone hurt you," he vowed, his words a whispered promise that carried the weight of his unwavering determination.
Emma's tearful gaze met Draco's, but the turmoil within her persisted.
"I can't do this again," she confessed, her voice trembling with the weight of past traumas.
Draco's grip on her face tightened slightly, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear.
"You're stronger than you think," he affirmed, his words a steady declaration. "You've already faced the darkness, and you emerged stronger. I won't let it consume you again."
Her teary eyes pleaded with Draco, her voice carrying the weight of a heart-wrenching plea.
"Draco, please," she implored, the vulnerability in her tone echoing through the confined space.
Her grip on him tightened as if clinging to him would anchor her in a reality that was slipping away. "I can't... I can't stay here. Please, get me out of here."
Draco, his own emotions laid bare in the intensity of the moment, felt the gravity of her plea.
His stormy gray eyes mirrored her pain, and a silent promise passed between them. Without uttering a word, he nodded, his jaw clenched in determination.
"I won't let anything happen to you, Emma," he vowed, his voice resonating with a fierce protectiveness.
In that instant, the cellar transformed from a prison into a battleground where Draco would face whatever came their way to keep Emma safe.
The others, witnessing the raw emotion and unspoken connection between Emma and Draco, remained silent, understanding the gravity of the situation.
As he spoke, Draco guided Emma through slow, deliberate breaths. His touch, gentle yet firm, traced soothing patterns on her skin. The room, with its cold and unwelcome embrace, seemed to fade into the background as Draco focused on grounding Emma in the present moment.
"Emma," Draco murmured, his voice a steady anchor cutting through the storm inside her, "breathe. In and out. Slowly."
His hands, warm against her cheeks, subtly moved in sync with the rhythm of his words. As the chaos threatened to consume her, Draco's presence became a lifeline, offering stability in the midst of turmoil.
"Inhale," he instructed, his thumb gently brushing against her cheek as a guide. "Feel the air filling your lungs. Hold it for a moment. Now, exhale. Release the tension. You're here, in this moment."
Emma, her breaths shaky and uneven, attempted to follow Draco's lead. His calm assurance provided a semblance of control, a small sanctuary within the confines of the cold and unwelcome cellar.
"That's it," Draco encouraged, his voice a gentle reassurance.
Harry and Ron exchanged worried glances from across the cellar, silently acknowledging the gravity of the situation.
As Draco continued to calm Emma, the storm within her began to subside. The panic attack, like a passing tempest, left in its wake a fragile calm.
Emma, still gripping onto Draco, found solace in his presence. Still teary-eyed and emotionally raw, she let out a subdued sob.
Draco, his eyes reflecting a mix of determination and protectiveness, turned to Harry. The unspoken understanding between them was palpable, a shared commitment to ensure the safety of everyone in the confined cellar.
"We have to find a way out," Draco declared, his voice carrying a sense of urgency.
Harry nodded in agreement, his gaze mirroring Draco's intensity. "Agreed. We need to figure out a plan," he responded, the weight of responsibility evident in his words.
Just then, a voice interrupted their conversation, drawing their attention to the corner of the room where Griphook, the goblin, was huddled.
"There is no way out," Griphook declared somberly, his eyes filled with resignation.
The cold, damp air of the cellar clung to the group as they huddled together, their senses on edge. Ron was cradling Hermione who was recovering from the torture.
Draco's arms were wrapped protectively around Emma, offering both a shield from the encroaching darkness and a silent reassurance in the face of uncertainty.
The flickering light of a lone lantern revealed the anxious expressions on their faces, a silent acknowledgment of the perilous situation they found themselves in.
As the distant footsteps drew nearer, Draco tightened his embrace around Emma. His stormy gray eyes, usually composed, now flickered with a mix of determination and concern.
The cellar seemed to tighten around them as the heavy door creaked open, revealing the silhouette of a Death Eater, their dark robes billowing in the eerie glow.
Emma felt a chill run down her spine as the Death Eater's gaze swept over them.
With a voice that seemed to drip with malice, they singled her out.
"You, the Potter girl. Come with me," the Death Eater ordered, their tone leaving no room for refusal.
Without uttering a word, Draco positioned himself between Emma and the approaching Death Eater, a silent but unmistakable declaration of protection. His eyes, usually composed, were now feral, possessive.
Pushing Emma gently behind him, Draco locked eyes with the Death Eater.
"She's not going anywhere," he declared, his voice carrying an unexpected edge.
Feeling Draco's sudden protective stance, Emma's heart raced, and she instinctively gripped onto the back of his shirt, seeking refuge in his presence.
The room seemed to crackle with tension as the Death Eater paused, assessing the unexpected resistance.
The Death Eater, their mask hiding any visible expression, sneered. "Malfoy, remember where your loyalties lie. She belongs to the Dark Lord."
Draco's jaw tensed, a defiant glint in his eyes. "I don't care about your bloody loyalties. She's not going with you," he asserted.
The cellar became a battleground of silent wills, the air thick with unspoken challenges.
The other captives exchanged uncertain glances, unsure of the outcome. Hermione's eyes flickered with a mix of concern and admiration for Draco's unexpected stand.
Draco's reaction was swift and fearless. In a fluid motion, he intercepted the Death Eater's reach, his body positioned as an unyielding barrier.
Without words, Draco communicated a message that transcended the limitations of spells and wands—a message that said, "Touch her, and you'll regret every breath you take."
The Death Eater, faced with unexpected resistance, sneered again, this time with a hint of frustration.
"You can't protect her forever, Malfoy. Lestrange demands her presence," they hissed, their masked face revealing nothing of the emotions beneath.
Undeterred, Draco's gaze bore into the Death Eater's, a silent challenge that spoke of an unspoken vow to defy their oppressive forces.
Finally, the Death Eater took a step back, a reluctant acknowledgment of the unexpected resistance.
"I will be back." The Death Eater, their mask concealing any visible expression, glared at Draco before turning on their heel to exit the cellar.
As the Death Eater retreated, Draco's shoulders relaxed, but the possessive fire in his eyes lingered.
Draco, feeling the weight of the moment, turned to Emma. His gaze softened, and he gently pulled her into an embrace.
"Are you alright?" he asked, his concern cutting through the lingering tension.
Emma nodded, the gravity of Draco's unexpected protectiveness sinking in.
Suddenly, she remembered and her heart pounded with hope and anxiety. The mirror, a gift from Dumbledore, held the potential key to their escape.
She took it out and clutched it tightly, her hands trembling as she whispered into it, "Help us! We're in the cellar of Malfoy Manor, help us!"
For a moment, nothing happened. The silence was almost suffocating, each second stretching into eternity. Then, to Emma's astonishment, an eye blinked in the mirror, a glimmer of response that fueled her hope.
But before she could fully process what was happening, the eye disappeared, leaving Emma with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty.
Draco, who had been watching with bated breath, looked at Emma with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Do you think they heard us?" he asked, his voice tinged with a fragile optimism.
Suddenly they could hear someone scuttling down the cellar steps; next moment, Wormtail's shaking voice spoke from behind the door.
"Stand back. Line up against the back wall. Don't try anything, or I'll kill you!"
They did as they were bidden; and the door flew open; Pettigrew marched inside, wand held out in front of him, pale and determined. He seized the little goblin by the arm and backed out again, dragging Griphook with him.
The door slammed shut and at the same moment a loud crack echoed inside the cellar.
Ron clicked the Deluminator. Three balls of light flew back into the air from his pocket, revealing Dobby the house-elf, who had just Apparated into their midst.
"Harry Potter," Dobby squeaked in his characteristic tiny voice, barely containing his excitement, "Dobby has come to rescue you."
Harry's eyes widened in surprise and gratitude. "You can Disapparate out of this cellar?" he asked, seeking confirmation from the elf.
Dobby's ears flapped with pride as he nodded emphatically.
"And you can take humans with you?" Harry inquired further, hoping for a positive response.
Once again, Dobby nodded, his determination unwavering.
"Right," Ron interjected with swift decisiveness, "Dobby, I want you to grab Luna, Hermione and Mr. Ollivander, and take them — take them to —" Ron paused momentarily, gathering his thoughts.
"Bill and Fleur's," he continued, "Shell Cottage on the outskirts of Tinworth!"
Dobby nodded for a third time, his large eyes fixed on Harry and Ron as they laid out the plan.
"And then come back," Harry added with urgency, his voice tinged with hope. "Can you do that, Dobby?"
"Of course, Harry Potter," Dobby whispered earnestly, his determination matching that of his master's.
Draco, sensing the urgency and danger, interjected, "Take Emma and Hermione too, Dobby. They need to get out of here."
Emma protested, her voice wavering with fear and uncertainty, "But what about everyone else? We can't just leave you here."
Draco's grip tightened around her, his eyes reflecting a mix of concern and resolve.
"He'll come back for us," he assured her, his tone firm yet reassuring. "Right now, getting you both to safety is the priority."
Harry
"Go!" Harry beseeched Luna and Mr. Ollivander. "Go! We'll follow, just go!"
They caught hold of the elf's outstretched fingers. There was another loud crack, and Dobby, Luna and Ollivander vanished.
"What was that?" shouted Lucius Malfoy from over their heads. "Did you hear that? What was that noise in the cellar?"
Emma and Draco exchanged a tense glance, their eyes reflecting a mixture of apprehension and determination.
"Wormtail! Go and check!" Lucius commanded, his voice echoing through the cellar.
Footsteps crossed the room overhead, then there was an eerie silence that seemed to stretch on endlessly.
"We're going to have to try and tackle him," Harry whispered urgently to Ron, his eyes darting to the cellar door.
As they heard someone descending the steps outside the door, they instinctively backed against the wall on either side of it, bracing themselves for whatever was about to happen.
"Stand back," came Wormtail's voice from the other side of the door. "Stand away from the door. I am coming in."
For a fleeting moment, Wormtail peered into the seemingly empty cellar, illuminated by the three miniature suns hovering in midair.
Then, without warning, Harry and Ron lunged at him. Ron grabbed Wormtail's wand arm, forcing it upward, while Harry swiftly covered Wormtail's mouth to stifle any cries.
In silence, they grappled with the struggling man; Wormtail's wand sputtered sparks, and his silver hand tightened around Harry's throat.
"What is it, Wormtail?" Lucius Malfoy's voice rang down from above, filled with suspicion.
"Nothing!" Ron replied, mimicking Wormtail's wheezy voice. "All fine!"
Harry fought to catch his breath as Wormtail's grip threatened to cut off his air supply.
"You're going to kill me?" Harry gasped, attempting to pry off the metal fingers. "After I saved your life? You owe me, Wormtail!"
The pressure of Wormtail's hand lessened unexpectedly. Harry was taken aback as he managed to break free, keeping his hand firmly over Wormtail's mouth. He saw the fear and surprise in the ratlike man's small, watery eyes, realizing that Wormtail was just as startled as he was by the momentary lapse of cruelty.
Wandless, helpless, Pettigrew's pupils dilated in terror. His eyes had slid from Harry's face to something else. His own silver fingers were moving inexorably toward his own throat.
"No —"
Without pausing to think, Harry tried to drag back the hand, but there was no stopping it. The silver tool that Voldemort had given his most cowardly servant had turned upon its disarmed and useless owner; Pettigrew was reaping his reward for his hesitation, his moment of pity; he was being strangled before their eyes.
They stood frozen, watching the grim spectacle unfold. Emma broke the silence, her voice urgent, "We have to move."
They carefully navigated around Pettigrew's convulsing body and ascended the stairs to join the tumultuous events unfolding above.
Cautiously, they crept along the hallway until they reached the partially open door of the drawing room. Peering inside, they had a clear view of Bellatrix standing over Griphook, who held Gryffindor's sword in his hands.
"Well?" Bellatrix demanded, her voice filled with anticipation. "Is it the true sword?"
"No," Griphook responded firmly. "It is a fake."
Bellatrix's face visibly relaxed, relief washing over her features. "Are you sure?" she pressed, seeking confirmation.
"Yes," the goblin affirmed.
The tension dissolved from Bellatrix's expression, replaced by a triumphant smirk.
With a nonchalant flick of her wand, she inflicted another deep cut on Griphook's face, causing him to cry out in pain and fall to the ground. She kicked him aside dismissively.
"And now," she declared, her voice brimming with triumph, "we summon the Dark Lord!"
Emma and Harry exchanged a determined glance, silently affirming their agreement. With their wands at the ready, they stepped out of the shadows, revealing themselves to Bellatrix and the others in the room.
"Expelliarmus!" Harry roared, pointing Wormtail's wand at Bellatrix, causing hers to fly into the air and be caught by Harry.
In response, Lucius, Narcissa, Octavia, and Greyback spun around; Emma shouted, "Stupefy!" and Lucius Malfoy collapsed onto the hearth. Jets of light flew from their wands.
Ron threw himself to the floor, rolling behind a sofa to avoid them.
"STOP OR SHE DIES!"
Panting heavily, Emma peered around the edge of the sofa. Bellatrix was supporting Hermione, who appeared to be unconscious, and was holding her short silver knife to Hermione's throat.
"Drop your wands," Bellatrix whispered with menace. "Drop them, or we'll see exactly how filthy her blood is!"
Ron stood rigid, clutching Wormtail's wand, while Harry straightened up, still holding Bellatrix's wand.
"I said, drop them!" she screeched, pressing the blade into Hermione's throat; Draco saw beads of blood appear there.
"All right!" he shouted, and they dropped their wands to their feet, raising their hands to shoulder height.
"Good!" Bellatrix leered. "Rosier, pick them up! The Dark Lord is coming, Harry and Emma Potter! Your death approaches!"
"Now," Bellatrix said softly, as Octavia hurried back to her with the wands, "I think we ought to tie these little heroes up again, while Greyback takes care of Miss Mudblood. I am sure the Dark Lord will not begrudge you the girl, Greyback, after what you have done tonight."
At the last word, there was a peculiar grinding noise from above. All of them looked upward in time to see the crystal chandelier tremble; then, with a creak and an ominous jingling, it began to fall.
Bellatrix was directly beneath it; dropping Hermione, she threw herself aside with a scream. The chandelier crashed to the floor in an explosion of crystal and chains, falling on top of Hermione and the goblin, who still clutched the sword of Gryffindor.
Glittering shards of crystal flew in all directions. Draco doubled over, his hands covering Emma, and his face covered with blood from the shards.
As Ron rushed to pull Hermione out of the wreckage, Harry seized his opportunity. He vaulted over an armchair and wrested the three wands from Octavia's grip.
Pointing all of them at Greyback, he bellowed, "Stupefy!" The werewolf was lifted off his feet by the triple spell, flew up to the ceiling, and then crashed to the ground.
Meanwhile, Draco hurriedly dragged Narcissa out of harm's way as Bellatrix sprang to her feet. Her hair flew around her as she brandished the silver knife, but Narcissa had directed her wand at the doorway.
"You dirty little monkey!" bawled Bellatrix. "How dare you defy your masters?" she screamed at Dobby.
"Dobby has no master!" squealed the elf defiantly. "Dobby is a free elf, and Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!"
"Emma, catch — and GO!" Harry yelled, tossing one of the wands to her. He then bent down to help Griphook out from under the chandelier.
Hoisting the groaning goblin, who still clung to the sword, over one shoulder, Harry seized Dobby's hand, and with a swift spin, they Disapparated.
Emma, grabbing Draco's hand tightly, Disapparated with them.