Voldemort’s Heir
Chapter Twelve
“Is everyone present and accounted for?” Draco asked as he surveyed the room. He and the Aurors had called everyone to Dumbledore’s office so they could outline their plan.
Hermione did a quick scan on the room. “Everyone’s here, except Professor Snape, Mackenzie, Isabene and Sirius,” she answered.
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “Continue on with the meeting,” he said. “They can be briefed later.”
Ron grinned. “Where do you suppose they are?”
“And what do you suppose they’re doing?” Draco replied, his grin matching Ron’s.
Eric frowned. “Can we just get to the point where you enlighten us to your brilliant plan?”
“What, no sense of humor?” Draco said.
“It’s basically nonexistent at this point,” Eric responded, narrowing his eyes. “Maybe after my wife is safe and sound, it’ll come back.”
Harry cleared his throat. “Now, as the letters we sent each of you indicated, the four of us. . .” He paused, indicating himself, Draco, Ron and Hermione with a sweep of his hand. “Have come up with a plan to rescue Krista.”
“It’s quite ingenious, really,” Hermione said.
Jason nodded, his arms crossed over his chest and his chin cupped in his hand. “Yes?”
“It’s simple,” Harry said. “We give Voldemort what he wants.”
Eric snorted. “That’s your plan? I already suggested it, remember? I was shot down.”
“Well, actually, it’s more like we’re presenting him with the illusion that we’re giving him what he wants,” Draco corrected.
Dumbledore looked interested. “And how do you propose to achieve this illusion?”
“A Duplicating potion,” Hermione answered.
Jason blinked, looking impressed. “Wow.”
“Wait, a what?” Eric said.
“A Duplicating potion,” Hermione responded. “Basically, once the potion is drunk, a copy is made of the drinker. A clone, if you will.”
“The plan is for Harry and Fyril to drink the potion,” Ron said. “The duplicates will go to Voldemort, surrendering. Meanwhile, the real Harry and Fyril will rescue Krista.”
“My name is Eric,” Eric growled.
“Fyril, Eric, whatever,” Draco said. “The point is for you to rescue your wife.”
“There’s only one problem with your plan,” Jason said.
“And what’s that?” Ron asked.
“We don’t know where Voldemort is keeping Krista,” Jason responded.
Draco smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s where I come in.”
Jason raised an eyebrow and even Eric focused his attention on Draco.
“I know where Vol. . .You-Know-Who’s hideout is,” Draco said. “It’s beneath the Malfoy mansion, underground.”
Jason blinked. “You mean Voldemort has been hiding under your family house all this time?”
Draco nodded. “I never even realized it until I overheard my father talking with You-Know-Who before I was captured,” he said.
“How do we get into the chamber?” Eric asked. “I mean, I doubt we can just walk through a door.”
“In my father’s study, there’s a secret door that leads down to a room,” Draco explained. “There’s a painting hanging on the wall. It’s of the chamber itself.”
“Hang on, we’re supposed to go through a painting to get to this chamber?” Eric said.
Draco nodded.
“Hmm, interesting,” Jason said. “To get to the chamber, you go through a painting of the chamber.”
“How long will it take to make this Duplicating potion?” Eric asked.
“Provided Professor Snape has all the ingredients in his supply cabinet, an hour,” Hermione said. “Two, tops.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Jason asked.
Hermione hesitated. “It. . .could take a little longer. A couple of the ingredients are rare and hard to find.” As the scowl on Eric’s face deepened, she quickly added, “But I’m sure Snape has everything I need. I’ll just go and check.”
“While Ms. Granger is making the potion, it will give you more time to practice,” Dumbledore told Eric.
He swore, raking his hand through his hair. “I don’t need any more practice, old man,” he growled. “I’m ready.”
“When I say you are,” Dumbledore said nonchalantly. “Patience, Fyril.”
Eric gritted his teeth and Jason laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Eric, chill,” he told his friend.
Eric shrugged off Jason’s hand and rose to his feet, angrily pacing the length of Dumbledore’s desk.
“I’ll just, um, go see Snape,” Hermione said, heading for the door.
“I’ll come with you,” Ron offered, following her.
Dumbledore watched Eric pace. “Fyril, I know you think that I believe you’re incompetent. That is untrue. I merely do not want to send you up against Voldemort unprepared.”
“I was a Marine!” Eric shouted. “We’re born prepared.”
“Not for something like Voldemort,” Harry said.
“He can’t be that dangerous,” Eric scoffed. “You’d managed to evade death by his hand before you were even walking!”
Harry stiffened. “It wasn’t as simple as you make it sound,” he said in a strained voice.
“There is a reason Voldemort has been less than successful in destroying Harry,” Dumbledore replied. “One’s fate lies in the hands of the other.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Eric snapped.
“‘Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives’,” Harry muttered.
Eric looked even more confused. “What?”
“A prophecy, made when I was born,” Harry said.
“So basically you’ve got to kill Voldemort,” Eric responded.
“I’m the ONLY one that can kill him,” Harry corrected. “However, it seems he’s found a loophole in you. He can cast a spell, allowing him to take over your body.”
“Great,” Eric muttered. “So what do we do?”
“The objective of your mission is to rescue your wife,” Dumbledore said. “We will deal with Voldemort’s demise another day.”
“Why not get it all over with in one fell swoop?” Eric said, raising an eyebrow.
“Going after Voldemort would compromise Krista’s safety,” Dumbledore responded calmly. “Harry, I believe you and Fyril should work on your attack plan.”
“Just one thing,” Jason said, holding up a hand even as Eric was scowling. “How are they supposed to get into Malfoy Mansion without being seen?”
“What am I, wall decoration?” Draco grumbled.
Harry grinned. “No, I think it’s a bed you decorate,” he said, winking.
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. “I believe Draco will assist in the breaching of Malfoy Mansion.”
Suddenly an owl flew into the room, alighting onto a corner of Dumbledore’s desk. Eric blinked, surprise on his face as the owl looked expectantly at him.
“I believe the letter is intended for you,” Dumbledore said, nodding at the envelope held in the owl’s beak.
Hesitantly, Eric took the envelope, seeing that it was addressed simply to “Fyril.”
Dumbledore gave the owl a Knut, two Sickles and an owl treat. The owl unfurled it’s wings and took flight as Eric tore into the envelope. As he pulled the letter free, something fell out onto the floor.
“I’ve got it,” Draco said, bending over to retrieve the fallen object. He frowned as he straightened up. “A necklace.” He held the silver chain up so everyone could see the teardrop-shaped pendant hanging from it.
Eric’s heart leapt into his throat. He knew that diamond. He’d seen it resting in the hollow of his wife’s throat for almost a year now.
“That’s Krista’s,” he said in a strained voice. “I bought it for her not long after we got married.”
Draco handed the necklace to him and Eric gently cupped it in the palm of his hand. He swallowed. “She never takes it off,” he said, blinking. “Even to bathe.”
“What does the letter say?” Harry asked quietly.
Eric’s hand shook as he skimmed over the letter. “Voldemort. . .he wants to me to come to him. He says he’ll let Krista go if I just cooperate. He’ll kill her otherwise.”
“He’ll kill her before you even finish saying you surrender,” Draco said, shaking his head. “We should just stick to the plan.”
“Screw the plan!” Eric hissed. “She’s my wife and I’m not going to see her hurt.”
“Fyril,” Dumbledore warned.
“Eric, don’t be stupid,” Jason said.
“Krista needs me now!” Eric growled.
“Eric,” Jason cautioned. “Don’t rush into anything. I know you want to save her, but stop and think it through. You’re a Silver Guardian. Look at this like a typical hostage situation. Would you rush in without a plan?”
Eric closed his eyes, sighing. “No. That kind of thing gets rookies killed,” he said through gritted teeth as he clenched his fist around the necklace.
“Exactly,” Jason said. “You won’t be doing Krista any good if you’re dead. Just listen to Draco’s advice and follow the plan.”
Eric sighed, collapsing into the nearest chair. “Hermione better finish that potion soon.”
“I’ll go see how they’re coming along,” Draco offered.
“Meanwhile, let’s work on our attack plan,” Harry suggested to Eric, who reluctantly nodded.
******
Draco made his way down to the dungeons, frowning as he saw Ron waiting outside Snape’s office. “Weasley?” he said.
“Draco!” Ron cried, his eyes narrowing. “What are you doing down here?”
“I came to check on your progress,” Draco responded. “What are you doing out here?”
Ron’s face turned red. “Um. . .waiting for Hermione,” he said. “I’m actually supposed to be getting a cauldron ready.” Shoving his hands into his pockets, he headed into the Potions classroom.
Draco frowned, then knocked on the door to Snape’s office. He raised an eyebrow as Hermione opened it, her face as red as Ron’s hair.
“Draco!” she exclaimed. “What do you want?”
“To see how the potion’s coming,” Draco said. “Why’s your face red?”
“Go on! Let him in, Ms. Ganger!” he could hear Snape’s angry voice call from within the office. “Why not? The more, the merrier!”
Draco looked confused as he heard several somethings being slammed down on Snape’s desk. He glanced at Hermione, who looked embarrassed as she opened the door wider and ushered him into the room.
Draco stepped into the office, his eyebrows lifting as he saw Snape, his robes rumpled, rummaging through his supply closet. The Potions master was muttering under his breath as he pulled bottles and jars from the cabinet and slammed them down on his desk, but Draco couldn’t make out the words.
The woman Draco knew as Mackenzie was seated behind the desk, her clothes rumpled as well. She was eying him with a slight curiosity. He looked at her, frowning thoughtfully. He’d heard that she and Snape had once been married but now hated each other. It seemed the gossipers he’d heard the rumor from had been mistaken.
“You’re a spitting image of Lucius,” she said to him.
He looked mildly surprised. “You know my father?”
She nodded. “He was ahead of me a few years in school,” she said. “In fact, I almost became your mother, but he wasn’t my type. Narcissa took a liking to him instead.”
“Ah,” Draco said, nodding. He winced as Snape slammed a bottle of a greenish powder down on the desk, rattling the others that already sat there.
“Severus, if you break something, I don’t want to hear you bitch,” Mackenzie said, spinning the chair around to look at him.
He just grumbled under his breath. “You’re in luck, Ms. Granger. I seem to have everything you require.”
“Oh excellent!” Hermione said, sounding pleased.
Meanwhile, Draco was looking from Mackenzie to Snape, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“I’ll just take these into the classroom,” Hermione said, scooping bottles and jars up. She handed off a few to Draco, who fumbled with one jar, almost dropping it before securely clasping his hand around it.
“C’mon Draco,” Hermione said, starting toward the door.
“Yes, but-”
He was caught off as Hermione jerked the back of his collar, nearly choking him as he stumbled backwards. “Right,” he said, nodding. “Good day, Professor, madam.”
Mackenzie smiled while Snape merely glowered.
“What was that all about?” Draco asked once he and Hermione had exited the office and the door had been closed.
“I think they wanted to be left alone,” Hermione said, her face flushing again.
Draco smirked. “Did you interrupt something?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh shut up,” she said, leading him into the Potions classroom, where Ron had started a cauldron bubbling.
“God, all that?” Ron said, his eyebrows lifting as Hermione and Draco set the contents of their arms on the table around his cauldron.
Hermione grabbed a measuring set. “Now, since this is a delicate potion and the measurements have to be precise, perhaps I should make it.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Oh yes, Head Girl and exceptional Potions student, we bow before your greatness.”
“Hey! Don’t mock her, you git!” Ron snapped. “You’re just jealous ‘cause she’s better than you in everything.”
Draco snorted. “Obviously not in the romance department. Really, she’d have to have no taste to date you.”
“You son of-!” Ron’s eyes were murderous as he stalked toward Draco.
“Ron!” Hermione cried. “Stop it! He’s not worth it! And you, Draco, stop egging him on!” She glared at both of them. “Really. We’ve been out of Hogwarts for five years now. It’s time to get over your insipid rivalry.” She rolled her eyes. “Draco, pass me the dragon’s eye powder.”
Draco scoffed. “Really, Hermione. Which one of us did better in potions?”
Hermione stiffened. “I’m just as competent as you, Draco.”
“I never said you weren’t,” Draco pointed out. “As you said, this is a delicate potion and the measurements have to be precise. And since my lover will be one of the ones drinking this, I’d hate to have him poisoned because you incorrectly measured something.” He paused for a moment. “And on that note, I don’t think Professor Snape would take too kindly to his son being poisoned either.”
Hermione’s face turned an interesting shade of purple. “Why you. . .how dare you!”
“And besides, I don’t recall anyone telling you that you could be a potions master, if you so desired,” Draco said, looking quite smug.
Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Draco Malfoy, you are a pompous ass.”
He smirked. “So you admit that I’m better than you?”
She gritted her teeth. “Only in potions.” She threw the measuring tools at him. “Fine, you’re so bloody good, you make the potion.”
Draco snatched up the tools, grabbing the bottle of dragon’s eye powder. “I will. Tell Harry and Fyril they may come down here in an hour. I’ll have the potion ready then.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Come on, Ron. Let’s leave the ‘potion master’ to his work.”
Ron glared at Draco as he allowed Hermione to lead him out of the classroom. “God, I can’t believe that bastard,” he growled once they were out in the corridor.
“He can’t help it,” Hermione said. “It’s part of his Malfoy nature.”
“I don’t see what makes him so damned appealing to Harry,” Ron said.
Hermione shrugged. “Maybe it’s the sex.”
Ron smiled, then gently touched her arm. “Don’t let what he said back there get to you,” he said. “You’re just as good in potions as he is.”
She smiled, brushing her fingers across his cheek. “You’re sweet, Ron,” she said. She softly kissed his cheek. “Let’s go check on Harry and Fyril.”
******
Harry watched Eric pace back and forth in the Room of Requirement. They had needed some place private to practice, as Jason had been about to start teaching a class in the Defense classroom. Remembering the Room of Requirement, Harry had led Eric to the tapestry. The room was once again equipped with all sorts of items that could be used in the defense against the dark arts.
Harry had suggested practicing some of the spells Jason had taught Eric, but the other man seemed too agitated and had resorted to pacing. He still held Krista’s necklace clenched in his fist.
“Fyril. . .Eric,” Harry said. “Pacing won’t help your wife.”
“I know that,” Eric snapped, pausing long enough to throw a glare in Harry’s direction. “I just. . .I can’t stop. I can’t concentrate long enough to perform the spells. I can’t stop thinking about her. My imagination keeps conjuring up these horrible images of my grandfather torturing Krista.”
“I know you’re worried,” Harry replied. “But we will rescue her. You’ll see.”
“You’re so confident,” Eric said, glancing at Harry. “What if I fuck up? Yeah, I can perform the spells here, but what about when I’m actually faced with using them in battle?”
“You have to believe in yourself,” Harry responded. “In your own ability to function in the capacity of a wizard. I was just as unsure about all this as you are when I first started. It’ll come to you.”
“I hope you’re right,” Eric muttered.
“Trust me,” Harry said. “There’s just something about having your ass on the line that kind of jump starts you.”
Eric chuckled. “I can deal with my ass on the line,” he said. “Happens everyday.”
“Have you learned to do a Patronus yet?” Harry asked.
“Sort of,” Eric said, shrugging. “Jason taught me the spell, but I haven’t exactly had enough happy thoughts to make it materialize.”
“Hmm. . .” Harry tapped his wand against his chin. “We have to work on that.”
“You honestly think Voldemort’s gonna have dementors around?” Eric asked.
“Anything’s possible,” Harry said. “It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“So what are we gonna do?” Eric asked. “I mean, it’s not like we can just summon up a dementor.”
Harry’s eyes brightened. “Actually, it’s exactly like that.”
Eric looked confused. “Huh?”
“A boggart,” Harry said.
“What the hell is a boggart?” Eric asked.
“A shape shifter,” Harry said. “It becomes your worst fear. It’s usually better to confront one in a group. . .but it’ll serve our purpose nicely.”
Eric frowned. “So, what? Your worst fear is a dementor?”
“You’ve never seen one of them,” Harry argued. “They’re very frightening. Besides, I have good reason to fear them.”
Suddenly the closet behind Eric started to rattle, and he whirled to face it, his eyes widening.
“What the hell?” he said.
Harry grinned. “The boggart,” he responded. “After all, this is the Room of Requirement.”
“Wow,” Eric said.
Harry nodded. “Now, on the count of three, I am going to open up this closet,” he told Eric. “The boggart will come out, in the form of a dementor. Cast the Patronus spell immediately upon seeing it.”
“I can handle that,” Eric said.
Harry licked his lips, going over to the closet. “Okay. . .ready?”
Eric nodded, swallowing nervously as he raised his wand. “Ready.”
“Now!” Harry threw open the closet doors and a dementor slowly emerged from the closet.
A black hood covered its face and Eric made a horrified face as a hand of graying, decayed flesh reached out toward Harry.
Harry couldn’t spare Eric a glance as his attention was focused on the dementor. He could feel the temperature dropping, the room becoming an icy tomb.
Eric frowned, watching Harry instead of the Boggart Dementor. Harry was staring off, not really paying attention to anything. “Harry?” he said. The Boggart Dementor started to look at him and Eric remembered he was supposed to be casting a spell. But it seemed as though the happiness had been sucked from the room, making him sluggish.
He brandished his wand, crying, “Expecto Patronum!”
All that issued forth from his wand was a silver wisp.
He frowned, casting the spell again. And again, nothing more than a silver wisp.
With his mother’s screams echoing in his ears, Harry drew his wand, pointing it at the Boggart Dementor.
“Riddikulus!” he shouted. Instantly, the dementor’s hood became tie-dyed and Harry managed a weak laugh. He remained conscious long enough to see the boggart explode, then glanced at Eric.
“And that’s. . .how you get rid. . .of a boggart,” he said before passing out.
“Oh shit,” Eric cursed, raking his fingers through his hair. Immediately his first aid training took over.
He knelt beside Harry, checking to make sure he was breathing. He also checked to see if he was bleeding anywhere. He winced at the cold sweat he felt on Harry during his inspection. He frowned at Harry’s clammy skin.
After checking his circulation, Eric quickly grabbed a cushion, elevating Harry’s feet. “Damn, I wish I had a blanket,” he muttered.
Almost immediately, a blanket appeared next to Harry. “Whoa,” Eric said, blinking as he stared at it.
He hesitantly grasped the blanket, then unfolded it and placed it over Harry’s body.
Rising to his feet, he sighed, jerking his hand through his hair again. “I’ll be right back,” he told Harry’s unconscious form. “Fuck, they’re gonna kill me.”
He quickly left the Room of Requirement, running to find someone to help him with Harry.