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Old October 30th, 2012, 12:28 am
jmunay10  Male.gif jmunay10 is offline
First Year
Join Date: 01st September 2012
Posts: 59
Re: Harry Potter and the Hellfire Potion

Chapter 21 ~ A Gaunt Prospect

They travelled under the cover of darkness.

“Why is this taking so long?” hissed Bellatrix, as they made their way stealthily through the wooded area.

“We must take care. The Ministry Auror’s are after us! It’s not much further.”

He was leading the way, tearing easily through hanging branches and vines out of their path with his magical silver hand.

Eventually they came to a small clearing. Just ahead, enormous dark trees waved ominously in the thin moonlight.


“What?” she snapped.

“I didn’t say anything,” Wormtail replied, looking confused.

“Just be quiet!” she hissed.

He shook his head. Obviously insane, he thought to himself.

Aloud he said; “It’s just behind those trees. We must be careful. The Ministry could know about this place.”

They proceeded forwards, climbing carefully over fallen branches and dead leaves. Everything here seemed dead, and the sweet stench of decaying plants hung heavy on the air.


“What?” She said through clenched teeth.

“I didn’t say anything!” he cried indignantly.

Turning sharply to look at him, Bellatrix pointed her wand at him, breathing hard.

“Stop playing games, Wormtail.”

“For the last time; I DID NOT SAY ANYTHING!”

“Well who keeps calling my name? Mystical fairies?” she asked sarcastically, “Now can we just get a move on? Where is the house?”

“Just through those trees,” he replied, annoyed.

“No Bella … nooo …”

Bellatrix snapped.

“It was your idea to come here, you imbecile! Why are you saying no now?”

“For the last time woman – I said nothing!”

“Oh really?” she sneered, “well who did”- she gasped, all colour draining from her face. “No,” she breathed to herself, stumbling over the hem of her robes and staring around, seemingly possessed.

“B-Bella?” asked Wormtail, confused.

“No! Go away, Cissy!” said Bellatrix in a hoarse whisper. “Leave me!”

“Cissy?” repeated Wormtail, “Bella, what are you talking about?” he laughed nervously, watching Bella, who was now retreating back into the woods, her lit wand held aloft.

“I’m not going to listen to you, Narcissa! Do you hear me?”

“Bella, be quiet!” squealed Wormtail, “Have you lost your mind? We must be quiet – we must be careful”-

“She is trying to stop me,” she said in a low voice, her eyes darting left and right, “can’t you hear her?” she grabbed onto Wormtail’s robes, falling to her knees, looking up at him though anguished eyes, “Can you hear her?” she asked again, desperately.

“Bella,” Wormtail began hesitantly, “I hear nothing. Come now; let’s go to the house. You are tired – you need rest,” he helped her to her feet, and held her steady with his silver hand.

Leading her through the clearing, he made low soothing noises, trying to clam her down. Bellatrix continued to mutter to herself. All Wormtail could make out was odd words – Narcissa’s name came up several times. He was worried. Without a powerful witch like Bellatrix Lestrange, the Dark Lord’s final plan could not work.

Finally they came to the Gaunt home. Gathering herself together, Bellatrix stared, her eyes wide in shock.

“This is it? This is the home of the last descendants of Salazar Slytherin?”

“You must understand that this house has stood empty for a long time, Bella. Don’t be fooled. It is imbued with magic. I think we are in luck. It doesn’t look like anyone knows about this place.”

Together they crossed over the threshold.
“This is fantastic news,” said Fred, slapping Neville on the back.

“Yeah, so you’ve mentioned,” said Neville, wincing slightly.

Fred and George had joined them in the Leaky Cauldron after they had shut up shop for the night. They were thrilled about Neville’s new shop as it meant they could buy supplies for their joke shop recipes without having to travel too far. The two of them had Neville trapped by the bar, trying to strike deals with some extremely fast-talking.

“This is the life,” said Ron lazily, taking a large gulp of his Butterbeer. He, Hermione and Harry were sitting at a table in the corner to avoid the endless stream of witches and wizards who wanted to shake Harry’s hand.

“What do you mean?” asked Hermione.

“Well, we’re grown-ups now, aren’t we? We can stay out if we like, hang out with our friends – it’s great,” he sat back in his chair contentedly, smiling at his friends.

“Oh yeah? Try telling that to Ginny,” said Harry, sheepishly.

An hour earlier, Mrs. Weasley had insisted that she and Ginny return to the Burrow. Needless to say, Ginny had not been happy about this, especially when her mother had told her loudly enough for all to hear, that she was far too young to be out so late. Harry had offered to go home with them, but Mrs. Weasley had declared that he should stay and enjoy himself, leaving him no room to argue. His last glimpse of Ginny was her flicking her fiery hair in anger as Mrs. Weasley chivvied her towards the Leaky Cauldron fireplace.

Ron chuckled to himself. “She’ll get over it.”

“I hope so,” said Harry with a small smile. He was still a bit worried. He had so far escaped the wrath of an angry Ginny. He wondered what she would have in store for him when he got home.

“Don’t worry, Harry,” said Hermione reassuringly. “Ginny knows it’s about time you got out and enjoyed yourself. She won’t be angry with you. And as for you,” she said, turning to Ron, “I’d think you’d have a bit more understanding for Ginny. You know what it’s like when your mother treats you like a child.”

“Yeah, fair point, but that’s all about to change!” He grinned knowingly at Harry.

“What are you talking about?” she demanded.

“Well, we were talking”- Harry started.

“- and we decided”- interrupted Ron.

“…that it might be a good idea”-

“-it’s a totally wicked idea”- enthused Ron.

“Ron! Will you let me speak?” said an exasperated Harry.

“Oh, yeah – sorry.”

“We thought - if you’re interested that is - that the three of us should move in together.”

Harry and Ron looked at Hermione expectantly. Her eyebrows shot up into her hairline.

“Are you serious?”

“Well, yeah. ‘Course – why – don’t you want to?” asked Harry, perplexed.

“Well of course I do! Oh my goodness – this is so exciting! When? Where?” she looked at them with shining eyes. Suddenly her expression clouded over, “Oh, wait,”

“What’s up?” Ron frowned.

“Well, have you told your mum yet? I can’t see her being too happy about it,”

Ron looked ill for a moment, before brightening. “Yeah, but I’m eighteen – that’s a whole year older than Fred and George when they bought their shop – that’s got to count for something, doesn’t it?” he looked at them hopefully.

Neither Harry nor Hermione seemed keen to meet his eye. Hermione cleared her throat.

“Anyway!” she said, in a cheery voice, “where did you have in mind?”

“Grimmauld Place,” said Harry quietly.

Hermione looked at him with concern, “Ooh, Harry – do you think you’re ready for that yet?”

“Yeah, I am,” he replied firmly. “Sirius wanted me to have it, and now the Order don’t need it, I think he’d be glad that we were getting on with our lives.”

“Well this is so exciting! Of course, we’ll have to draw up rotas – you know, and a cleaning schedule, and take it in turns to cook – I can make up a timetable of what and when things need doing. I think it’s the fairest way to do it, so the workload is spread evenly, don’t you? Who wants another drink?” she asked, jumping to her feet excitedly, “I’m buying! This is going to be so brilliant!” and she hurried off to the bar.

Ron looked at Harry with a miserable expression.

“Perhaps we should have thought this through a bit more?”

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