Chapter 36

Under a star-filled night sky, the rare clear weather over Angus, Scotland, in November felt almost like a blessing.

Ron, carrying the Sword of Gryffindor, called over to Hermione, who was packing up the tent.

“How’s Anne doing lately?”

“Much better,” Hermione replied, flicking her wand. The tent folded itself neatly into a square. “She should be able to get out of bed and move around for two hours tomorrow.”

“That’s good to hear.” Harry, bent over a map illuminated by wandlight, asked, “Any idea when the Order’s alert level will be downgraded to Class A?”

“Probably in three days.” Hermione sealed her enchanted bag with a spell. “Things haven’t been great for the Order. The outer branches are still heavily affected by the SS-level alert. And having one of the regional leaders, a Muggle-born wizard, turn traitor… that sent a terrible message.”

“So, where to next?” Hermione asked.

“We’ve been to most of the nearby locations already.” Harry glanced up at them. “I’m wondering if we should keep heading north… or go south.”

“South!” Ron said immediately. “Not north. It’s nearly the end of November. Once it starts snowing, we’ll have to clear our tracks constantly. Better to leave as few traces as possible, right?”

Hermione nodded in agreement.

“Alright then,” Harry said, tapping a spot on the map with his wand. “Here, site 13-04. A forest near Twin Bridges, Devon.”

“Hmm? That’s inside Dartmoor National Park,” Hermione said. “I went there once as a child. Lots of wildlife.”

“What, like bears? Maybe we should pick somewhere else,” Ron said with mock horror.

“Really?” Harry laughed, nudging him with his elbow. “You’ve got a wand and a sword, and you’re worried about bears?”

“Hey!” Ron pulled out his wand dramatically. “Come on, black bear! Dare to duel a wizard?”

Harry and Hermione burst out laughing.

“Alright, enough. We’ve cleared all traces, and everything’s packed. Let’s move,” Hermione said at last.

Ron nodded. Harry threw the Invisibility Cloak over them, and the three clasped hands. With a sharp twist, they Disapparated.

A second later, solid ground returned beneath their feet, but instead of an empty forest, they found themselves staring at a blazing campfire surrounded by figures in black robes.

Everything happened in a heartbeat. Both sides reacted instantly, wands whipped out, spells exploded in every direction.

The skirmish was over almost as soon as it began. Despite fighting with everything they had, the three couldn’t stand against five seasoned adult wizards.

They were captured. Their wands were seized. Hermione’s enchanted bag was knocked aside, and in a desperate final move, she tossed her phone straight into the fire.

“Bloody hell!” Greyback yanked Harry up by the hair. Blood dripped steadily from Harry’s nose, and his shattered glasses hung crooked on his face.

“Look what we’ve got here!” Greyback roared, his voice full of savage delight. “Harry Potter!”

He shoved his face close to Harry’s. Through the blur of blood and broken glass, Harry could make out the matted gray hair, the yellow fangs, the cracked sores at the corners of the man’s mouth.

The stench of sweat, dirt, and iron made his stomach turn.

The other Snatchers stood around, gripping their wands, their excitement barely contained.

“Do we take them to the Ministry?” came a shrill, rat-like voice that grated on Harry’s ears.

“The Ministry?” Greyback barked out a laugh. “They’d steal the credit, and we wouldn’t even get to see him again. No—” his grin stretched, predatory, “—we’re taking him straight to the Dark Lord.”

“You’d summon him here?” one of the thinner Snatchers asked, his voice trembling with fear and awe.

“Not summon—” Greyback growled. “I heard he’s using the Malfoys’ place as his base. We’ll bring the boy there.”

“Wouldn’t it be safer to just go claim our reward at the Ministry?” another Snatcher asked, his hand tightening around Ron’s throat. Ron gasped, his face turning purple.

“Scabior!” Greyback snarled. “I’m the leader here! You follow my orders, or I’ll make sure you never cast another spell again!” His sharp teeth gleamed in the firelight.

Scabior recoiled, loosening his grip and dropping his gaze.

“Bind them all! Potter’s mine. I’ll count down, and we move, three, two, one!”

Harry barely had time to struggle before everything went dark again. Greyback’s hand clamped down like iron at the back of his neck.

As they twisted through the crushing void of Apparition, pain seared across Harry’s scar, it burned like molten metal against his skin.

He was inside again… slithering through a narrow window, drifting like mist into a small, cell-like room,

A frail figure turned under a thin blanket. A Skoll-like face. Deep-set eyes opening…

The man sat up, smiling a toothless smile at Voldemort.

“I knew you would come… someday. But your journey is pointless. I never possessed it.”

“You lie!”

Rage flared, white-hot, and Harry’s scar exploded with pain.

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They landed hard on a country lane before an iron gate, behind which stretched a long drive.

Harry’s heart eased slightly, Voldemort wasn’t here.

In the flickering fragments of vision still swimming through his head, the Dark Lord stood atop a tower in some fortress-like place, far away.

How long until he learned Harry was here, until he came?

Harry’s fingers twitched toward the leather pouch at his neck, where a wooden token lay hidden. If only he could get a message to Anne,

One of the Snatchers stepped forward to shake the gate.

“How do we get in? It’s locked, Greyback, I can’t, ah!”

He jerked his hand back as the wrought iron began to twist and shift, the curving filigree reshaping itself into a grim face.

“State your purpose,” it said in a ringing, metallic echo.

“We’ve caught Potter!” Greyback roared triumphantly. “We’ve got Harry Potter!“

The gate swung open instantly.

“Move!” Greyback barked. The others dragged Ron and Hermione behind him as they marched through.

Another stab of pain lanced across Harry’s scar, and again, visions flashed before his eyes,

…the frail body under the blanket stirred once more… The eyes opened wide,

“You’ve come,” the voice rasped. “But it means nothing. I never had it.”

“Liar!” Voldemort’s fury thundered through Harry’s veins; his scar throbbed as if splitting open,

⚡︎━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ❖ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━⚡︎

Light burst over them.

“What’s going on?” a cold female voice demanded.

“We’ve come to see the Dark Lord!” Greyback growled roughly.

“Who are you?” the woman asked, her tone sharp as a blade.

“You know me!” Greyback snarled. “Fenrir Greyback! We’ve captured Harry Potter!”

He grabbed Harry by the hair again and yanked his head up into the light.

Narcissa Malfoy gasped, then hurriedly threw open the great doors.

“Heavens, bring them in, quickly!”

The Snatchers followed her eagerly up the wide stone steps and into the grand entrance hall.

Portraits lined the purple walls, watching the scene unfold with curiosity under the glitter of the crystal chandelier.

Inside stood Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy, and another figure Harry recognized instantly.

Bellatrix Lestrange. The witch who had murdered Sirius Black.

Lucius’s face twisted with manic delight. He strode forward, grabbed Harry by the chin, and tilted his head back to see the lightning-shaped scar.

“Excellent! Ha, excellent!” he crowed.

“I hope we’re not forgetting who caught him, Mr. Malfoy,” Greyback said darkly, watching Lucius’s excitement.

“Of course not, of course not,” Lucius said impatiently. “You’ll all be well rewarded.”
He rolled up his sleeve and raised his wand,

“Stop!” Bellatrix shrieked. “Don’t touch it! If the Dark Lord comes now, we’ll all die!”

Lucius froze, his wand tip hovering above the Dark Mark on his arm.

Bellatrix turned sharply toward one of the Snatchers clutching the Sword of Gryffindor.

“What is this?” she demanded.

“The sword!” the man said, backing up and hiding it behind him.

“Give it to me,” she hissed.

“It’s mine, lady. I found it!”

A flash of red light, Bang!

The Snatcher hit the floor, stunned.

The others roared in outrage, Scabior yanking out his wand.

“What d’you think you’re playing at, woman?”

“Stupefy!” she shrieked. “Stupefy!“

They never stood a chance.

In seconds, all five Snatchers lay motionless on the marble floor, except Greyback, who was forced to his knees, arms spread.

Ron and Hermione were curled together nearby, unconscious.

Harry lay face-down on the cold stone, barely able to see through the blur of blood and shadow.

Bellatrix swept forward, clutching the gleaming Sword of Gryffindor, her face pale as wax.