Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

"I don't think so," said Harry. "Not if we concentrate."

"This is what I mean about letting Gryffindors plan things," snapped Draco. He and Harry were standing so close together, he could see himself reflected in Harry's glasses. He looked anxious and cross.

"What kind of plan is 'concentrate'"?

"Harry," interrupted Ron, anxiously. He couldn't quite hear what they were saying from where he stood, but Harry's expression was making him nervous. "Harry, I don't think-"

Ignoring him, Harry reached out and grabbed Draco's left hand (did you ever doubt Draco was a lefty?), interlocking their fingers around the wand. As he did so, the scar on his palm brushed the scar on Draco's, and Draco felt a jolt of freezing cold lance through his skin.

He saw Harry's eyes flick up to his nervously. He had felt it, too.

"This is a bad idea," said Draco, with foreboding.

With another grim look, Harry turned the wand, now held in both their hands, towards Viktor. "Veritas," he whispered.

Draco felt his hand jerk forward as if someone had yanked it. The wand shook in their joint grasp and he tightened his grip as a bolt of black light shot from the tip and struck Krum in the sternum, nearly knocking him sideways. Krum yelled out loud in agony, and fell to his knees, clutching his chest.

Ron looked horrified. "Harry, what did you do?"

Harry had released the wand, and dropped to his knees beside Krum, laying his hand on Krum's shoulder. "Viktor," he said urgently. "I want to take this off you as quickly as possible, but you have to tell us, what happened to you yesterday? Where were you last night?"

"After the game I go back to my room," said Krum, looking startled to hear the sound of his own voice. Draco knew how he felt; the Veritas curse didn't just force you to tell the truth, it impelled you to speak — and speak — and speak. "I lie down on the bed. I am feeling very strange and I think it is the wine. Then there is a knocking on my door. I get up and answer it. It is the man that was in my tent.

He points his hand at me and says Imperio."

A look of astonishment spread over Viktor's face. He obviously hadn't been aware of any of this. "Then he gives me a.. a.. kak shte kazhesh tova na Angliyski…. "

Ron, Draco and Harry glanced uncertainly at one another, none of them knowing any Bulgarian to speak of. But Viktor seemed to be back on track.

"A glass, a bottle, of a liquid, he gave it to me and then he gave me instructions. I put on my cloak and walk out into Diagon Alley. I go to the Leaky Cauldron. I am waiting there until I see her, Her-my-own-ninny, come in the door." Viktor now sounded wistful. "she looks very happy and pretty. I ask her to come and speak to me for a moment. We go into the back room. She turns around to ask me a question, and I seize hold of her. I cover her mouth so she cannot scream and I force her to drink the potion."

Krum's eyes were wide with horror. Draco, Harry and Ron were staring at him in shock and growing fear.

"Now she is quiet, she is docile. She does what I tell her. She gets rid of the girl with red hair. She comes back into the room. We wait together and the man comes. He points his hand at her and says

"Imperio…" Krum paused. "She is crying. He has to do the spell twice. Finally we leave, Her-my-own-ninny, and I. We fly to the Burrow and I wait while she goes to get her things and to write a letter to Harry. Then we get on my broom and we fly to King's Cross Station." Viktor's voice was growing hoarse now, whether from physical pain or from shock, Harry couldn't tell. "The man is waiting there, in Muggle clothes. He takes Her-my-own-ninny from me. Then I leave, and come back here. When I wake up…" He shook his head.

"I remember nothing."

"Harry," hissed Ron urgently. He was standing by the door now, looking even more anxious. "Harry, someone's going to come -

someone must have heard Krum screaming — "

But Harry was still staring at Viktor. "Where did he take her?"

"I do not know! I do not know! You must believe me. Harry, you know I would never do anything to bring harm to Her-my-own-ninny!"

Harry stood up and backed away from Viktor, who was still half-sitting, half-lying against the foot of the bed, looking utterly wrung out. Harry himself looked nearly as bad — he looked as if he were going to be sick. He took a step toward Draco. "I think we should hit him with the spell again," he said, under his breath. "Maybe there's something — maybe he knows-"

"No," said Ron's voice, unexpectedly.

They both turned and looked at him, leaning against the door, looking both panicked and angry. "Why would whoever took Hermione let Krum know where they were going?" he said.

"Obviously they were just using him. If he weren't so famous, they probably would have killed him. If he says he doesn't know, I believe it. And Harry," he added, his voice tightening, "you're hurting him. It's not like you. I'm sorry, but both of you are pretty deranged where Hermione's concerned, so I think I should make this decision." He raised his wand, pointed it at Krum. "Finite — "

"Wait," said Harry, quickly. "One more question. Just one more." He turned to Krum. "You said the man pointed his hand at Hermione when he performed the Imperius Curse. His hand, not his wand. Did he not use a wand?"

Krum shook his head. "No," he said raggedly. "He used his hand."

"A Magid, then," said Draco.

"It was not an ordinary hand," said Krum. "He was a very ordinary little man. Small, and fat. But his hand was made of silver."

Harry looked at Ron and Draco, who were staring at him with identical expressions of horror. It was Harry who spoke first.

"Wormtail," he whispered.

"Rowena?" gasped Hermione in disbelief.

"My beautiful Rowena," said the wizard who had called himself Salazar. He reached out a gloved hand and touched Hermione's hair.

She didn't move, even though the smell of burning alcohol made her throat sting.

"That's not my name," said Hermione. "I'm — you have the wrong person. The wrong girl."

"I wouldn't disagree with him if I were you," said a sharp and malicious voice. Hermione turned her head, and with very little surprise saw the familiar short, fat figure of Wormtail standing in the doorway. He was wearing gray robes, his silver hand protruding from the right sleeve. There was an ugly smirk on his face. "You do realize who you're talking to?"

Hermione kept her eyes fixed on Wormtail as she replied. He was no beauty pageant winner, but at least he still had his entire face. "How did I get here?" she demanded, trying to keep her voice firm.

"Wormtail brought you to me," said the buzzing voice at her left.

"He is a very faithful servant."

"Not that faithful," said Hermione to Wormtail in a shaking voice.

"Considering that two weeks ago he was serving the Dark Lord!"

"Now I serve the Master of my Master," said Wormtail. "The greatest of the Hogwarts Four, the most fearsome wizard ever to hold a wand." He grinned emptily at her. "Do you know who I am talking about? Hogwarts has gone sadly downhill if they no longer even teach their students a proper understanding of history."

Hermione shut her eyes. "Salazar Slytherin is dead," she said. "And the dead can't come back."

"It hurts me to hear you say that, my love," said the buzzing voice in her ear. Salazar Slytherin's voice — her mind didn't want to accept it, couldn't accept it. Something this horrible couldn't be happening to her. His black-gloved hand closed on her arm, and the shock of his grip was the single most unpleasant sensation Hermione had ever experienced. He hauled her upright on her wobbly legs, and turned her so that she faced him. "After so many years wandering the gray spaces," he said. "You brought me back to the world."