Кассандра Клэр - Draco Veritas

Draco shut his eyes, just as the world exploded.

"Shut your eyes! Shut your eyes!" Hermione screamed, and Ginny did, covering her face with her hands for good measure. The ground under her feet seemed to rock and tremble, and there was a terrible smell of burning, and heat, heat like a bonfire, scorching her skin through the thin material of her robes. She gasped superheated air, almost screaming at the pain in her lungs.

She was not the only one screaming. Above the terrible roar of wind and lightning, she could hear other screams, higher and harsher than her own. Voldemort was howling like a mad thing, and over his howls she could hear — was that Tom screaming? She nearly opened her eyes at that, but suddenly there were hands at her wrists, and she felt the manacles that pinned her to the wall loosen and then open. She pitched forward and nearly fell, but was caught by firm hands around her shoulders. "You can open your eyes now," Hermione said.

Ginny's eyes flew open, and she stared. Hermione stood in front of her, unshackled, her face smeared with grime and smoke. Behind her, Ginny could see Harry unfastening Draco from his shackles, standing with his hands on the other boy's shoulders. Both of them were staring towards the center of the room, where the pentagram still burned, and Voldemort spun in its center, shrieking. As Ginny stared in amazement, she saw him grab for Tom, who jerked back in surprise, his arms flailing. His hand caught the edge of Ron's platform, tilting it violently. Ron, limp as a dishrag, rolled off the platform and landed on Tom, knocking him to the ground. Voldemort continued to scream, a high mindless wailing that went on and on like a police siren.

"My God," Ginny whispered. "What on earth is going on? I thought the ceremony was supposed to make Voldemort all-powerful — "

"It would have," Hermione said grimly, "if he'd done it right." She beckoned to Harry and Draco, who came towards them, keeping close to the wall. Thick black smoke was billowing up from the pentagram now, nearly hiding the figures inside it. Ginny could still see Voldemort, spinning and screaming, thrusting out his left hand again and again towards the sky. Beyond the pentagram, Lucius had backed up against the far wall, his mouth open in stunned surprise. He showed no inclination to go to the aid of his Master.

As for Tom, Ginny could no longer see him — or her brother — at all.

"You did this," Draco said, arriving smoke-smeared and panting at Hermione's side. He stared at her, half in accusation, half in amazement.

"Bloody hell, what did you do?"

"Double transfiguration," Hermione said calmly. "It's quite simple really, but I can't explain now. We have to get to Ron. Harry, your scabbard?" She held out her hand.

Staring at her with a mingled expression of love and slight terror, Harry handed her his scabbard, leaving the sword of Gryffindor bare in his hand. "I can't believe it worked," he said.

"Of course it worked," Hermione replied, taking the scabbard and shoving it through her belt. Then she gasped. Ginny followed her gaze and saw a figure emerging from the smoke around the pentagram. It was Ron, she saw to her surprise, but he wasn't walking — he seemed to be hanging limp in some sort of invisible net, carried along by invisible forces. His head hung down against his chest, and his arms, the deep wounds on his wrists clearly visible, dangled at his sides.

"Ron," Ginny whispered. She tried to run to her brother, but Draco had seized her wrist in an iron grip and was holding her tightly.

"Wait," he said. "He's being brought to us."

It was true. Ron neared them, then crumpled at their feet, a puppet with its strings cut. The air shimmered above him, and Rhysenn appeared, the cloak of invisibility slipping off her shoulders. Her white dress was covered in blood from neck to waist, and blood stained her bare arms.

"You'd better hurry," she said, looking at Ron almost anxiously. "He hasn't got much more time."

Ginny choked back the sob in her throat, dropping to her brother's side as Draco's grip on her wrist loosened. Ron was terribly pale, half-soaked in blood, even his red hair stiff with it. She touched his cold cheek lightly.

"Hermione," she whispered. "Is there anything — ?"

But Hermione was doing something very peculiar; she was unclipping a barrette from her hair, one of the bright, sparkling ones that Blaise had given her. She glanced at it where it lay sparkling in her palm, then whispered over it: "Resolvo veneficus. Veritas."

As Ginny watched in amazement, the tiny barrette trembled in Hermione's palm, then suddenly sprang upward, growing and lengthening. The tiny sparkling jewels turned to great glimmering emeralds that clung to the handle of an enormous silver cup, the interior of which was carved with a pattern of waves and scales and glimmered as though it were full of liquid. The Cup.

"So that's how you did it," Draco said, sounding both amazed and delighted. "That flask, that wasn't the Cup at all — it was a transfigured fake! And Voldemort never thought to check it, since why would you bother hiding something that wasn't the real Cup? You're a genius, Hermione, you — "

"Later, Malfoy," Hermione said, and set the rim of the Cup to Ron's lips.

Water spilled from it into his mouth, running down over his chin. "Come on, Ron," Hermione whispered. "Come on, now — "

He coughed, spitting water, the color returning to his cheeks in a flood. As Ginny watched in amazement, the wounds on his wrists vanished, sealing themselves back up, the skin knitting together seamlessly, leaving no scar.

The healthy pink tinge returned to his face and his eyes opened, clear and blue. He blinked, staring around him in surprise. "Er," he said. "Hello, everyone."

Hermione burst into tears.

"Oh, dear," said Ron.

"Ron!" Ginny flung herself on her brother, hugging him tightly. His arms came up around her and he patted her on the back awkwardly.

"Er…" he said.

Ginny sat back, sniffling. "I thought you were…"

"I thought I was, too." Ron sat up, glancing around at the billowing smoke, the roiling sky, and the darting figure of Voldemort, shrieking and dashing inside in the pentagram. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded.

"The ceremony didn't work," Hermione said briefly. "One of the Objects Voldemort tried to use wasn't a real Worthy Object, and the whole thing disintegrated. Now Voldemort's trapped inside the pentagram. He can't get out."

'"Great!" said Ron. He glanced around anxiously. "I mean, that's good, isn't it?"

"As long as it lasts, it's good," Rhysenn said. "I would estimate it will take another ten minutes or so for the effects of the ceremony to fade. Then he will be free. And very angry. I suggest you begin running away now."

Harry shook his head. "I'm not running," he said. He looked at Ron, and Ron at last raised his eyes to Harry, and their gazes met. All Ron's regret was in his eyes, all his stubborness and his sorrow.

"Harry," he said, awkwardly, "Harry, if I — "

"Come on." Harry stuck out his hand. "If you don't- I mean, we could use your help."

There was the barest fraction of hesitation; then Ron took Harry's hand, and let Harry help him to his feet. They stood staring at each other, as if not sure whether they had license to grin foolishly yet. Draco looked away from them — and his eyes widened.

"Bugger," he said, eloquently. "Look who's not trapped in the pentagram."

From the center of the roiling smoke, a figure had emerged. Streaked with smoke and grime, his elegant robes hanging off him in filthy tatters, his blond hair was matted with ash. One of his sleeves was stained with blood.

He stared around him malevolently, coughing on smoke. His glamour's gone, Ginny thought.