Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Fu Inle ❯ Chapter 17
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: flight815kitsune 
Non Anime: Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Psychological / Hentai / Drama / Shounen | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 12.14.2008 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.0K | Visits: 482 | Status: Work In Progress
Non Anime: Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Psychological / Hentai / Drama / Shounen | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 12.14.2008 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.0K | Visits: 482 | Status: Work In Progress
17
Thanks go out to the newest members of my story alert list!!! I tried to get this chap up fairly quick. Umm...off topic, has anyone out there read the fic “My Immortal”? I think my IQ dropped a little from it, so let me know if I missed any errors when I proofread this. Thanks!
“That’s the plan, yeah."
“It could work....But you do realize it is illegal to have an unauthorized one?”
“Yeah.” he nods, still smiling.
“Well, when were you planning on going?” a spark.Wait...why was he reading about it before he wanted to play hero?
“Soon. As soon as possible.”
“Why were you looking into it before?”
“Huh?”
“The Portkey. Apparently this dream about the Dark Lord happened after you fell asleep. The books were everywhere. Why were you looking into them before?”
“Oh. No real reason...”He shrugs. “What do you think we should use?”
Fool me twice... “There had to be a reason...Potter.” His last name thrown with spite. Grey eyes demanding the truth.
“I wanted to go back.”
“Back where?”
“12 Grimmuald Place.We use too much magic here. We’ll be found out soon. It’s hidden. I don’t know why we ever moved. There’s plenty of room for anyone seeking sanctuary...and I keep getting the feeling we missed something.”
“What do you mean? Some sort of clue as to how to bring him down?” Grimmuald Place? Why does that sound familiar?
“No. Nothing that noble.” He shakes his head. The threat of a smile shines in those eyes. “ I don’t think that my Godfather is dead.”
“Your Godfather?”
“Sirius Black.”
“My Aunt killed him. She said so.” That’s why...It used to belong to my mother’s family.
“No. She sent him through a veil. We assumed that the veil killed him. What if it didn’t? What if he’s just trapped there?”
“I doubt it.”
“Still...I have to think of it. And if a portkey can take me there, then I might be able to bring him back.”
“You really think, if he was alive, that he wouldn’t have found a way back? Or that something else might not have killed him after he fell?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know if it would work. But it has helped already. I’m thinking that we can just go straight to Grimmuald Place. Then, even if Moody tried to say anything right away, there’s nothing he could actually do. It’s my house...”
“Well, it’s your decision. It’s your plan.” Can’t believe I’m following him. We’re going to get killed.
“Then...I say we go.”
“Alright...” When we get them, we can use them. I just have to think about it like that.
“Do you want to try going there first? As sort of a test run?”
“Sure. That way I’ll at least know where the hell to try and escape to.”
“You really don’t want to do this, do you?” He raises an eyebrow. Clearly, he was unused to hesitation.
“I don’t suppose a good screw will convince you not to?” It’s what he wanted before. It’s pretty bad when that is the lesser evil.
“No. You missed your chance at distracting me.”
“Then I’m in. Make the stupid thing to get to 12 Grimmuald Place. It’ll be easier to go from there to Yaxley’s, if we plan to keep the others there. It might also be a good idea to have a book with healing spells and potions supplies.” They are going to need it.
“It’s still there. In the library and other parts of the house. We didn’t take much from it when we left...”
Sentimental idiot... “Then make it. The sooner we go, the sooner they’ll be out.”
Harry abandons his position and draws his wand. After a moment, he utters a single word. “Portus.”
Both stare at the stationary collection of pages.
“Did it work?” Draco finds himself asking softly.
“Only one way to find out.” He bends over amd picks it up.
Draco grabs the corner of the book, giving a small nod.
“One, two, three.”
The tugging, falling sensation. Being flung to an unknown destination.
Landing HARD. His shoulder bangs into a table, knocking some piece of glass off. Harry on top of him.
“Great job.” he mutters. “Might want to work on that before we try to have anyone tag along. Namely people who wouldn’t want any more injuries.”
“Shut up.” is his response. Harry rises to his feet, looking around. “Welcome to Grimmuald Place. Kreacher should be making his appearance shortly.”
Kreacher? That thing is still alive? Draco dusts himself off, checking his pockets to confirm the location of his wand. I thought ma mere said they had killed it?
He glances at the scenery. Many of the same styles are in his own home, minus the layer of dust. Definately purebloods.
Shuffling footsteps enter from the other room. He’s in a sad state. His white hair is a mess. Wrinkled and dirty, wearing a tattered cloth that does not serve to cover anything. “No....” He moans. “Mistress’ vase!” He drops to his knees, gathering up the pieces. Through tears, he pouts and turns his attention to Harry. “You!” he shieks. “Why....You were GONE....”
Draco cannot contain a laugh at seeing the expression on the brunette’s face. He doesn’t know how to handle it. “Elf.” he says in the same tone one would use with a disobedient child, “Get a hold of yourself. I’ll fix it.” With a wave of his wand, the pieces reform into a small porcielain vase.
Kreacher cradles it like an infant, crooked smile on his face.
“Now. I do believe you owe the owner of this house an apology?” He points at Harry.
The elf bows and says a rush of words one could only interpret as a plea for forgiveness.
“Good. Now, why is this place such a mess? There is no excuse for laziness. Mr. Potter and myself expect to see progress when we bring guests later. Is that understood?”
Kreacher nods vigorously. “Yes master....” He looks Draco up and down, focusing on his face. “Young Master Malfoy.”
“The name’s Draco.” He turns his attention back to a visably shocked Harry. “Come, I believe we need to prepare for our friends.”
“Umm...sure.” He goes up the stairs, pausing repeatedly to stare at the house elf.
With a smirk, The blonde follows.
The house bears certain similairities to home. The colors, the smell of old potions and older books. The sleek wood, elegant furniture. The only difference is the lack of people, and the layer of dust.
Harry goes into a bedroom. “We’ll come back here. That way we won’t have to move them.”
The room is done entirely in silver and green. The overall impression is very...sterile, but still slytherin.
Harry grabs a glass from on top of the dresser. “Alright.I think I know what I did wrong last time. Hopefully everything’ll turn out....” He casts the spell.
“May as well be in Azkaban for two offenses as one.” Both grab onto the chosen object.
“One, two, three.”
Landing on his feet this time, though a bit wavering. Harry quickly stands, trying to check the glass for cracks in the nearly nonexistant light.
“How do you do that?” He mutters.
“Shh...” He pushes Harry against the wall. “We need to be quiet. In and out before they check on them.”
Everything is cold, wet, and shadows. The hall is lined with doors, some merely bars, others thick wood, a few still swung open. A few candles provide the only light. Chains hang even in the hall. A table covered in metal implements and prisoner’s belongings winks at the dancing flame.
The two enter the nearest open door. The stink of death, of fresh blood and human waste, greets them. On the floor is a corpse. Draco goes up to it and kicks it. It rolls over and he knows the face.
“Warrington...”
He pushes past Harry, going to the next door down. He unlocks it, slowly turning the knob. A girl screams lightly, hopefully not enough to draw the attention of the ones keeping them here. He stands a sillouette. Pansy Parkinson curls more into a ball than one would think possible. Bruises cover her arms and legs, shadows without a source. Blood is smeared everywhere. Her hair has been hacked. The image of a discarded doll.
“I don’t know anything.” She sobs.
“Now you do.” He closes the gap.
Montague. Dead.
Bole. Dead.
Empty.
Empty.
The next cell contains an unconcious Theodore Nott. Sorry, but I don’t think we can take you. We’re in a rush.
Empty.
Daphne Greengrass. Dead.
The final room is unlocked, so he tiredly opens the door. Blaise has to be here.
“Alive?” He whispers, searching for someone among the shadows.
“What kind of trick is this....?” The familiar voice groans, He’s on the floor, hands clutched close to his chest.
“Come on. Potter has a way out of here.” Be alright. We need you to fight if anyone comes...
“You were supposed to be dead.”
“Really? Hadn’t noticed.” He pulls him up by the collar of his shirt. “We need to go.”
“My wand...”he glances at that table.
“Accio, wands.” He huffs, pushing him in the right direction. He grabs the pieces of wood as any seeker would, quickly and perfectly. “Now go. We’re trying to get you out of here.”
Blaise eyes him suspiciously.
He enters the room with Pansy and Harry. The Gryffindor, true to his house, has donated a piece of clothing to cover the visably shaken girl.
“Anyone else?”
“Nott. But he’s out of it.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“We don’t have time.”
Harry pauses. “No. They’ll kill him.”
“Better one than four.”
“Alright.” He glances at the door, but makes no move. Pansy puts one hand on the cup.
“C’mon Blaise. It’s a portkey. I guarantee it’s safe.” Draco orders.
Reluctantly, a horribly shaking dark hand touches it. Harry nods. Fingertips from everyone in contact.
“One, two, three.”
Thanks go out to the newest members of my story alert list!!! I tried to get this chap up fairly quick. Umm...off topic, has anyone out there read the fic “My Immortal”? I think my IQ dropped a little from it, so let me know if I missed any errors when I proofread this. Thanks!
“That’s the plan, yeah."
“It could work....But you do realize it is illegal to have an unauthorized one?”
“Yeah.” he nods, still smiling.
“Well, when were you planning on going?” a spark.Wait...why was he reading about it before he wanted to play hero?
“Soon. As soon as possible.”
“Why were you looking into it before?”
“Huh?”
“The Portkey. Apparently this dream about the Dark Lord happened after you fell asleep. The books were everywhere. Why were you looking into them before?”
“Oh. No real reason...”He shrugs. “What do you think we should use?”
Fool me twice... “There had to be a reason...Potter.” His last name thrown with spite. Grey eyes demanding the truth.
“I wanted to go back.”
“Back where?”
“12 Grimmuald Place.We use too much magic here. We’ll be found out soon. It’s hidden. I don’t know why we ever moved. There’s plenty of room for anyone seeking sanctuary...and I keep getting the feeling we missed something.”
“What do you mean? Some sort of clue as to how to bring him down?” Grimmuald Place? Why does that sound familiar?
“No. Nothing that noble.” He shakes his head. The threat of a smile shines in those eyes. “ I don’t think that my Godfather is dead.”
“Your Godfather?”
“Sirius Black.”
“My Aunt killed him. She said so.” That’s why...It used to belong to my mother’s family.
“No. She sent him through a veil. We assumed that the veil killed him. What if it didn’t? What if he’s just trapped there?”
“I doubt it.”
“Still...I have to think of it. And if a portkey can take me there, then I might be able to bring him back.”
“You really think, if he was alive, that he wouldn’t have found a way back? Or that something else might not have killed him after he fell?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know if it would work. But it has helped already. I’m thinking that we can just go straight to Grimmuald Place. Then, even if Moody tried to say anything right away, there’s nothing he could actually do. It’s my house...”
“Well, it’s your decision. It’s your plan.” Can’t believe I’m following him. We’re going to get killed.
“Then...I say we go.”
“Alright...” When we get them, we can use them. I just have to think about it like that.
“Do you want to try going there first? As sort of a test run?”
“Sure. That way I’ll at least know where the hell to try and escape to.”
“You really don’t want to do this, do you?” He raises an eyebrow. Clearly, he was unused to hesitation.
“I don’t suppose a good screw will convince you not to?” It’s what he wanted before. It’s pretty bad when that is the lesser evil.
“No. You missed your chance at distracting me.”
“Then I’m in. Make the stupid thing to get to 12 Grimmuald Place. It’ll be easier to go from there to Yaxley’s, if we plan to keep the others there. It might also be a good idea to have a book with healing spells and potions supplies.” They are going to need it.
“It’s still there. In the library and other parts of the house. We didn’t take much from it when we left...”
Sentimental idiot... “Then make it. The sooner we go, the sooner they’ll be out.”
Harry abandons his position and draws his wand. After a moment, he utters a single word. “Portus.”
Both stare at the stationary collection of pages.
“Did it work?” Draco finds himself asking softly.
“Only one way to find out.” He bends over amd picks it up.
Draco grabs the corner of the book, giving a small nod.
“One, two, three.”
The tugging, falling sensation. Being flung to an unknown destination.
Landing HARD. His shoulder bangs into a table, knocking some piece of glass off. Harry on top of him.
“Great job.” he mutters. “Might want to work on that before we try to have anyone tag along. Namely people who wouldn’t want any more injuries.”
“Shut up.” is his response. Harry rises to his feet, looking around. “Welcome to Grimmuald Place. Kreacher should be making his appearance shortly.”
Kreacher? That thing is still alive? Draco dusts himself off, checking his pockets to confirm the location of his wand. I thought ma mere said they had killed it?
He glances at the scenery. Many of the same styles are in his own home, minus the layer of dust. Definately purebloods.
Shuffling footsteps enter from the other room. He’s in a sad state. His white hair is a mess. Wrinkled and dirty, wearing a tattered cloth that does not serve to cover anything. “No....” He moans. “Mistress’ vase!” He drops to his knees, gathering up the pieces. Through tears, he pouts and turns his attention to Harry. “You!” he shieks. “Why....You were GONE....”
Draco cannot contain a laugh at seeing the expression on the brunette’s face. He doesn’t know how to handle it. “Elf.” he says in the same tone one would use with a disobedient child, “Get a hold of yourself. I’ll fix it.” With a wave of his wand, the pieces reform into a small porcielain vase.
Kreacher cradles it like an infant, crooked smile on his face.
“Now. I do believe you owe the owner of this house an apology?” He points at Harry.
The elf bows and says a rush of words one could only interpret as a plea for forgiveness.
“Good. Now, why is this place such a mess? There is no excuse for laziness. Mr. Potter and myself expect to see progress when we bring guests later. Is that understood?”
Kreacher nods vigorously. “Yes master....” He looks Draco up and down, focusing on his face. “Young Master Malfoy.”
“The name’s Draco.” He turns his attention back to a visably shocked Harry. “Come, I believe we need to prepare for our friends.”
“Umm...sure.” He goes up the stairs, pausing repeatedly to stare at the house elf.
With a smirk, The blonde follows.
The house bears certain similairities to home. The colors, the smell of old potions and older books. The sleek wood, elegant furniture. The only difference is the lack of people, and the layer of dust.
Harry goes into a bedroom. “We’ll come back here. That way we won’t have to move them.”
The room is done entirely in silver and green. The overall impression is very...sterile, but still slytherin.
Harry grabs a glass from on top of the dresser. “Alright.I think I know what I did wrong last time. Hopefully everything’ll turn out....” He casts the spell.
“May as well be in Azkaban for two offenses as one.” Both grab onto the chosen object.
“One, two, three.”
Landing on his feet this time, though a bit wavering. Harry quickly stands, trying to check the glass for cracks in the nearly nonexistant light.
“How do you do that?” He mutters.
“Shh...” He pushes Harry against the wall. “We need to be quiet. In and out before they check on them.”
Everything is cold, wet, and shadows. The hall is lined with doors, some merely bars, others thick wood, a few still swung open. A few candles provide the only light. Chains hang even in the hall. A table covered in metal implements and prisoner’s belongings winks at the dancing flame.
The two enter the nearest open door. The stink of death, of fresh blood and human waste, greets them. On the floor is a corpse. Draco goes up to it and kicks it. It rolls over and he knows the face.
“Warrington...”
He pushes past Harry, going to the next door down. He unlocks it, slowly turning the knob. A girl screams lightly, hopefully not enough to draw the attention of the ones keeping them here. He stands a sillouette. Pansy Parkinson curls more into a ball than one would think possible. Bruises cover her arms and legs, shadows without a source. Blood is smeared everywhere. Her hair has been hacked. The image of a discarded doll.
“I don’t know anything.” She sobs.
“Now you do.” He closes the gap.
Montague. Dead.
Bole. Dead.
Empty.
Empty.
The next cell contains an unconcious Theodore Nott. Sorry, but I don’t think we can take you. We’re in a rush.
Empty.
Daphne Greengrass. Dead.
The final room is unlocked, so he tiredly opens the door. Blaise has to be here.
“Alive?” He whispers, searching for someone among the shadows.
“What kind of trick is this....?” The familiar voice groans, He’s on the floor, hands clutched close to his chest.
“Come on. Potter has a way out of here.” Be alright. We need you to fight if anyone comes...
“You were supposed to be dead.”
“Really? Hadn’t noticed.” He pulls him up by the collar of his shirt. “We need to go.”
“My wand...”he glances at that table.
“Accio, wands.” He huffs, pushing him in the right direction. He grabs the pieces of wood as any seeker would, quickly and perfectly. “Now go. We’re trying to get you out of here.”
Blaise eyes him suspiciously.
He enters the room with Pansy and Harry. The Gryffindor, true to his house, has donated a piece of clothing to cover the visably shaken girl.
“Anyone else?”
“Nott. But he’s out of it.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“We don’t have time.”
Harry pauses. “No. They’ll kill him.”
“Better one than four.”
“Alright.” He glances at the door, but makes no move. Pansy puts one hand on the cup.
“C’mon Blaise. It’s a portkey. I guarantee it’s safe.” Draco orders.
Reluctantly, a horribly shaking dark hand touches it. Harry nods. Fingertips from everyone in contact.
“One, two, three.”