Chapter 37

“Where did you get this sword?” Bellatrix’s voice was low but shaking with fury. She snatched the wand from Greyback’s limp hand as she spoke.

“How dare you—” he snarled, forced to look up at her. Only his mouth could still move. His yellow teeth flashed. “Let me go, woman!”

“Where did you get this sword?” she asked again, waving the gleaming blade before his face.

“Snape sent it to my vault in Gringotts!”

“It was the boy beside Potter holding it,” Greyback grunted. “Now let me go!“

With a flick of her wand, the invisible binds released. The werewolf sprang upright instantly, but he didn’t dare get close to her. He backed off toward the wall, glaring warily.

“Lucius,” Bellatrix barked, pointing at the unconscious Snatchers sprawled across the floor. “Get rid of that filth. Throw them out into the yard.”

“How dare you speak to me like that in my own house—” Lucius began furiously, but Bellatrix shrieked over him,

“Silence! This is more serious than you think! We’re in terrible trouble!”

Still clutching the sword, she swept toward Ron, who lay gasping for breath after nearly being strangled.

“Who are you?” she demanded, kicking him hard in the ribs. Ron let out a cry of pain.

“I know him,” Lucius said coldly. “The youngest of the filthy Weasley brood. Of course, helping Potter in secret, are they? At last we have proof! Now we can send the entire family to Azkaban—”

“No!” Ron shouted hoarsely.

Bellatrix pressed her boot down on his chest, her wand aimed at his face. “Where did the sword come from?”

“I–I—” Ron’s forehead broke out in sweat.

“I know! I know!” Hermione cried, struggling to speak. Her hands were bound tightly behind her back; she could only drag herself weakly across the floor.

Bellatrix turned toward her. “You know?”

“Yes! I gave it to him!” Hermione said loudly.

“She’s a Mudblood,” Narcissa Malfoy said disdainfully. “I’ve seen her once, Harry Potter’s friend, top of her class in Gryffindor. A filthy little Mudblood—”

“Excellent,” Bellatrix said, eyes blazing with feverish light. She turned to Greyback. “Greyback, take Potter and that trash to the dungeon. Potter must not be harmed. The Dark Lord wants to kill him himself. Understand?”

“This is my house, Bellatrix—” Lucius hissed.

“Do it!” Bellatrix screamed, spinning on him. “Lucius, you fool! You’ve no idea how much danger we’re in!”

“How dare you speak to Lucius that way?” Narcissa shouted.

Greyback gave a cold grunt and strode forward, grabbing Ron and Harry by the collars. He dragged them roughly across the hall toward a small door in the corner. From the main hall, they could still hear Bellatrix’s frenzied voice echoing behind them.

“I have to know! Cissy! The Sword of Gryffindor was supposed to lie in my vault at Gringotts, why is it here? If the Dark Lord comes and sees it, what will he think? With everything else we’ve done wrong, this could doom us all!“

“What are you going to do, ?”

“Why, I’ll ask the Mudblood properly, of course—”

Greyback shoved Harry and Ron into the dungeon, and moments later, a long, terrible scream tore through the air above them.

“Hermione!” Ron and Harry shouted at once.

Greyback sneered, then kicked Ron hard in the stomach. Ron doubled over like a shrimp, gasping in pain.

“Your end might be worse than hers,” he said with a cruel laugh, slamming the iron door. The heavy clank echoed down the stone corridor as he climbed the stairs.

“Harry, Harry, quick!” Ron gasped, dragging himself toward him.

“I know, I know, damn it—” Harry twisted his bound wrists. “We’ve got to get these ropes off!”

“Harry Potter?” came a faint, rasping voice from the darkness. “Is that really you?”

“Who’s there?” Harry said, fumbling blindly over the cold stone floor, searching for something sharp.

A thin, skeletal hand reached toward him, feeling along the ropes. A piece of jagged stone scraped across the bindings. The voice trembled weakly.

“I’m Ollivander, oh, thank heavens, you still remember me?”

“Mr. Ollivander?” Ron exclaimed in shock. “What are you doing here?”

“Captured long ago,” the old wandmaker whispered. “To tell the truth, even if you get free, you won’t escape. I’ve tried, every way imaginable—”

“We’ll find one!” Harry said urgently. “Please, faster!”

“I found the sword—” Hermione’s voice echoed from the hall above, sharp and terrified.

Another scream followed, raw, wrenching.

“You’re lying, you filthy Mudblood! I know! You’ve been in my vault! Tell the truth, TELL THE TRUTH!” Bellatrix’s voice was hysterical.

“Hermione!” Ron cried, terror cracking his voice. “Faster!”

The ropes snapped free.

Harry’s hands trembled uncontrollably. He fumbled for the small leather pouch at his neck. His fingers, slick with sweat and blood, struggled with the knot.

“I can’t see!” he panted. “I can’t open it!”

“Harry! In my pocket, there’s a Deluminator! It’s got light inside, quick!”

Upstairs, Bellatrix’s shrieks echoed again.

“What else did you take? WHAT ELSE? Tell me, or I swear I’ll drive this knife through you!”

“No, nothing! It was just there, I found it!” Hermione sobbed.

“Harry!” Ron shouted.

“Alright, alright!” Harry snapped the Deluminator open with a click.

Two glowing spheres of light floated out, bathing the dungeon in a pale brilliance.

Ignoring the sudden dizziness, Harry tore open the pouch and dumped its contents onto the floor.

“The wooden charm, where’s the charm—” Harry muttered feverishly.

“There!” Ron shouted. “Send SOS, Anne said it means emergency help!”

“I know!” Harry knelt, blood running down his hand, the lightning scar on his forehead throbbing painfully. He focused only on the tiny wooden plaque in his palm.

Beside him, Ollivander was sawing through Ron’s ropes.

Slowly, words began to etch themselves across the surface of the charm,

SOS. Captured. Malfoy Manor. Dungeon. Help!

“I–I sent it,” Harry whispered. Relief crashed through him. His back was drenched with sweat, and the world spun in white light.

Above them, Hermione’s screams grew even worse.

“How did you break into my vault?” Bellatrix shrieked. “Was it the filthy little goblin in the dungeon who helped you?”

“I found the sword two nights ago!” Hermione sobbed. “I’ve never been inside your vault, this isn’t the real sword! It’s a replica, a fake!”

“A replica?” Bellatrix screamed. “How convenient! How very convincing!“