Chapter 6: Crazy Something-or-Other
Luna’s large, protuberant eyes went even larger, if possible. “Daddy! Is that what I think it is?”
Mr. Lovegood smiled at his daughter, his frizzy blonde hair bouncing as he nodded his head in a comical bobble head fashion. He was a thin, forgetful-looking man with a small gentle smile. His cornflower blue eyes were just as large as his daughter’s, but there was a mildness about his mouth and eyes that claimed him a kind man. He spoke quickly, as though the words couldn’t wait to come out of his mouth.
“Amazing, isn’t it, my little Lunarina? I remember how disappointed you were when we didn’t find any on our trip, and I just couldn’t stand it. I asked around, and it turns out Madame Nettles had spotted one in Fiji! That’s where I went for that last weekend, I was ever so happy, now we have finally gotten a hold of one! Can you imagine?” He bounced on the balls of his feet, his big blue eyes on Luna’s face, eager for her reaction.
To a stranger, it would seem as though Luna was merely pleased, and Mr. Lovegood badly needed a trip to the loo. One would almost think she were the one taking care of him. And that’s how it had been, ever since Mrs. Lovegood had passed away so tragically. Luna shook her head as though to clear it. She smiled down at the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, prodding it softly. Then, looking at her father with wide silver eyes, she said happily, “Oh, Daddy, you’re very kind. But I’m afraid I can’t accept this present…the African Digglewumps don’t believe in kidnap, and neither do I.”
Mr. Lovegood’s hair bounced as he shook his head again. “Luna, Luna, Luna. As though I would have kept him here! No, no, the Snigglewumps are quite right—Digglewumps, sorry; kidnap is a horrible act indeed. On Christmas Day we shall go to Fiji and set him free. Perhaps we’ll meet a couple of Blibbering Humdingers as well,” he said, laughing a little at the absurdity of it all. Luna laughed with him. Everyone knew Blibbering Humdingers lived in the Arctic, not Fiji.
“Oops, would you look at the time! I’ve got to run now, have fun with your new friend. Mind you she doesn’t touch the tank in the kitchen; that could end rather nastily. I promised Mr. Dersyard a meeting--nice long article on Qorinch-Gardle mating, looking ever so forward to—” Mr. Lovegood’s voice disappeared with him as he descended down the rickety old stairs into the basement.
Luna gazed after him fondly, thinking of what a nice man he was as she stroked the furry creature in front of her. He had two little black eyes and ridges all along his hairy brown back. Scaly, flightless, and almost translucent wings protruded from right behind his neck, and he had a pink sniffling nose. He looked rather like a cross between a mutant insect and a cute kitten. Imagine, a real Crumple-Horned Snorkack! Luna was so preoccupied in examining the little creature of her dreams that the banging on the door went unnoticed. After all, strange noises were to be expected in this household.
Ginny pounded on the tangerine door again, shouting impatiently, “Luna! Open up! It’s me, Ginny!” She glanced about nervously, pulling her cloak tighter about her slim shoulders and shivering. The entire trip to Luna’s house she had felt the hairs on the back of her neck bristling with the paranoia that she was being followed. She would feel better once she was safe inside the house.
Finally the bright orange door opened and Luna stood there in all her otherworldly splendor. “Oh, hello Ginny. How are you today?” she asked serenely, absentmindedly yanking on a long blond strand of hair. Her penetrating silver eyes stared at a spot about four inches above Ginny’s left shoulder. “I received your message, but your feather ball insisted on staying. I think he’s feasting on the Owl Treats we leave out for the Nargles. They often get a bit rowdy this time of year, you know. It’s very harmful to our hydrangea bushes.”
Ginny stared at Luna for a moment, unsure of how to respond to this. Then she decided to just ignore it all together in her hurry to get inside the warmth of the small house. “I’m just peachy, thanks,” murmured Ginny as she pushed past her friend. She sighed in relief as the bitter cold was replaced with a merrily crackling fire, and sank into a polka-dotted couch with three legs. It tottered precariously. She tried not to pay to much attention to the odd knick-knacks scattered about the room haphazardly, and what looked like a spiky blob of fur next to her. She figured it would be better not to know. “Luna, would you shut the door? I’m about to die of the cold.”
No one answered. Ginny looked around to find Luna apparently in a heated conversation with the door. It seemed to be hissing something at her, but Ginny dismissed it; talking inanimate objects actually wasn’t that uncommon in the Wizarding World, after all. The only thing odd in this case was the choice of object; doors were a poor choice for charming because they were known to complain loudly about being slammed all the time. Very annoying, really.
“Er, Luna?” asked Ginny cautiously.
Luna broke off her conversation, but continued to glare at the door. “Hmm?”
“Door?”
“Oh, yes, alright,” she snapped at the door, slamming it.
Ginny stared at the blonde Ravenclaw, raising her eyebrows at her bizarre behavior and grinning. Luna, completely oblivious to Ginny’s reaction, drifted over to the armchair by the fire and settled down. Her robes rode up a bit, revealing brightly patterned socks. There was a small onion pinned on one of them. Luna caught Ginny staring, explaining in that matter-of-fact, spacey way of hers, “To ward off vampires, of course. Allows you to kick harder and improves your dancing skills, too. Father’s secretary invented them; she calls them Sock Rocks. Useful little baubles, aren’t they? She gave me a silver hat as well, for the werewolves, but I was afraid I was going to have an odd shape to my head and I was quite pleased that I didn't.”
Ginny’s face worked furiously as she tried hard not to laugh. This was one of the reasons she liked Luna so much--the way she could make her laugh whenever, whatever the circumstances. “I bet those come in handy. Really have to get them sometime,” she said, grinning. Then she sobered as she remembered the reason for her visit. Now was the time for clever plans and rescues, not sock trinkets.
“Have you packed yet? Harry’s been missing for a whole week already, I’d rather get moving before anything—” Ginny’s voice caught in her throat, and she swallowed hard. “Well, I’d just rather get going. We have a lot of ground to cover, if we’re going to the Isle of Skye on broomsticks.”
“Aha!”
Ginny’s head whipped around, her hair following a split second later to meet her face with a slap. She growled, shaking the scarlet curls out of her mouth. “Who’s there?” she called.
Behind her, Luna was making a face. “You said you’d stay quiet!” she said, her voice losing some of its dreamy quality. “You’re not very truthful, are you?” She glided over to the other side of the room, navigating her way around assorted bits of furniture with astonishing skill. It was a wonder she didn’t trip. Her hand went up, feeling around the air for a moment, and then it closed on something. Still scowling a bit, she tugged until a smug, pointed face emerged from under the Invisibility Cloak.
Draco Malfoy smirked, his gray eyes glittering maliciously. “Going somewhere, Weasley?”
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Jugson paced. He sat. He even tried tormenting the Potter boy for a while, but the boy refused to speak. He sat there on the cold, damp dungeon floor with his wrists shackled to the wall and simply glared with those startlingly green eyes of his. It was unnerving, really. Finally, Jugson decided he couldn’t take it anymore. The silence was killing him.
He shuffled out of the room, intending to go and fetch Yaxley. He had no idea why the Dark Lord wanted her to take the next shift, but in this line of business, one learned not to ask questions.
Harry sighed in relief as what he now referred to in his head as the “psycho Death Eater” (although they all seemed a bit off their rockers) left the room. For the past half hour he had been trying to Apparate out of his bonds to no avail. He had strained as hard as possible. Destination, Deliberation, and determination. Or was it deliberation, determination, and destination? Harry couldn’t remember. It seemed the chains were charmed against that sort of thing anyways.
He grimaced, bringing his knees up so he was in a crouching position, hoping to take some weight off of his wrists. The cold edges of the chains were jagged, rubbing against them and peeling the skin away. Harry swore as he felt a warm liquid that was unmistakably blood slowly make its way down his arm.
“Who’s there?” someone rasped suddenly. Harry froze, trying to stop his chains from jangling so much. He strained to hear where the voice had come from; perhaps the other side of his cell wall?
The voice spoke again, this time sounding more normal. “Curious,” it muttered.
Harry’s emerald eyes widened. “Mr. Ollivander?” he whispered.
He heard chains rattling about as the man on the other side of the wall adjusted himself to take advantage of all the comfort the hard stone of the wall had to offer. “I thought that might be you, Harry. What a pleasant surprise,” he said, though he did not sound pleasantly surprised in the least. “They’ve captured you as well, I assume?”
Harry couldn’t believe it. Out of all the places to meet the man who had given him the wand that had saved his skin so many times, it had to be in the bowels of Death Eater Central. He spoke slowly, trying to process this information. “Er, yeah. Caught me by surprise, you could say. And yourself? I’d heard you had gone missing, but a lot of folks reckon you’d just up and gone from your own free will…” he said hesitantly, wondering if maybe he should have been more tactful.
Mr. Ollivander gave a humorless little laugh and said, with a touch of bitterness, “Of course, of course. No struggle. No, it was very cleverly planned out I have to admit. Caught me by surprise as well-- you know that Lucius Malfoy, such a smooth talker, and I, very stupidly on my part…well, I followed him. And now I’m here, with chains bound around my wrists and a slave to someone I swore myself against the day I saw the use he had put one of my wands to.” Harry had to press his ear against the wall to hear the last bit; Mr. Ollivander’s voice was growing quieter and quieter with each word.
“Why you, though? I mean, maybe for the wands, but I hear they didn’t even touch your store—I mean, why would they need you for?” he said, feeling as if every word was coming out the wrong way. Even with the thick stone of the wall in between them, Mr. Ollivander had the effect of making him feel peculiar and uneasy. He could almost feel those eerie, moon-like eyes gazing at him through the cell wall. Harry squirmed uncomfortably, his chains jangling.
Finally Mr. Ollivander spoke, his voice wry. “Ah, yes—you’re so young, you have yet to see the extent of their treachery…Killing and torturing, is that all you think it is?”
Harry felt his face heating up in anger; why did people always insist on treating him like a little kid? As though he knew nothing? His mental rant was cut short before it ever really began as the wandmaker began talking again. “Perhaps it’s best that you don’t know,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument.
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“What do you mean, she’s missing!” asked Ron hotly.
“What it means, Ron, is that she is missing. Can’t find her; gone--poof,” said Mr. Weasley tiredly, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Try to lower your voice, will you? I don’t want your mother to worry. When she worries she starts saying things like 'I told you so' or 'Stop doing that I'm asleep'.”
Ron’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He wasn't certain if this was because they were trying to see more clearly, or if they simply wanted to leave at this point. Sweet merciful Merlin, cast a Memory Charm on me now, Ron thought desperately.
Ron was saved from replying to that awkward comment by Mrs. Weasley’s dramatic entrance. “Arthur!” she cried, galloping down the stairs into the kitchen at a pace surprising for a woman of her…girth. “Arthur, a note! I’ve found a note!”
“In her room, you found it? What does it say? Go on, Molly, read it!” said Mr. Weasley anxiously, all traces of his earlier exhaustion disappearing.
Mrs. Weasley unfolded the piece of parchment with trembling hands, her eyebrows drawn together in worry, the lines around her mouth and eyes more pronounced then ever. Her baby girl—her only girl—was missing, and she wasn’t sure she could handle a blow like that. What if it was a ransom note? Mrs. Weasley covered her face at just the thought; she thrust the parchment at Arthur for him to read instead.
I’ve gone to Luna’s for a while, don’t know when I’ll be back. You know the Lovegood’s, Dad; Mr. Lovegood is the editor of the Quibbler. I’m sorry I left so suddenly—I just couldn’t handle it. Those Malfoys are driving me up the wall! I hope I didn’t worry you too much; I’ll owl you when I get there. Good luck with the Malfoys!
Love from Ginny
Mrs. Weasley sagged in relief, letting the safety of her daughter sink in for a few moments before snapping back up in anger. “How dare she just up and leave like that, without so much as a warning!”
”I’m just glad she’s all right.”
Mrs. Weasley looked at her husband disbelievingly, and said, “Surely you aren’t going to let her stay there, Arthur!”
Arthur gave a little shrug. “I can’t say I don’t like it, but I know Lovegood from often enough encounters—strange man, but I know he’d never let any harm come to Ginny.”
“Yes, but Arthur—”
Mr. Weasley cut in rather sharply, “Molly, you yourself have been complaining about them nonstop. Quite honestly, we don’t know whether her friends will be around later on; the least we can do right now is let her spend the time she has with them.” He sighed at his wife’s stricken face.
“I’m sorry, Molly, but I just think it would be best to let her stay where she is. I mean, really, what’s the worst that could happen?” he said, sending a small, reassuring smile to his wife.
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Ginny’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly. Draco stood there with his pale blonde hair shining in the firelight, his smirk growing even wider as he saw Ginny’s speechlessness.
“Nothing to say, Weasley? How touching…I didn’t know you’d miss me that much. If I did, I’d have come out sooner.”
Ginny’s voice came rushing back, along with a sense of blinding anger. “Oh yes, I felt so miserable without you, it’s almost like having you here!” she snapped, her whole 5’4” frame shaking with her wrath. “You followed me!” Even stating this simple fact added to her fury; it felt like a horrible violation of her privacy.
“Good observation, detective. I’m surprised you’re just realizing this. I sneezed right behind you at least twice on the way here,” he said mockingly. “Friend’s house my ass. I knew you were up to something. Going to save Scarhead, eh? So the idiot went and got himself captured; to be expected, really.”
She felt an insane urge to sock him in the eye and wipe that annoying smirk off his face once and for all. Luna drifted over to where Ginny was standing and put a small, restraining hand on her arm, as though guessing what she was thinking. She opted to glare at him instead, snarling viciously, “I’m surprised you aren’t over there with the rest of them, dancing around screaming war chants or whatever it is you Death Eaters do.”
Draco’s face contorted but he did not deny it as he said scathingly, “I wish; if I were lucky, maybe I’d get to teach Saint Potter a few lessons.”
“I knew it!” she practically shouted. “Dad may say you’ve changed, but I know you’re still an overbearing, evil, conniving git. Get the bloody hell out of here right now, Malfoy…before I make you,” growled Ginny menacingly, her brown eyes alive with rage.
“Fine by me, Weasley,” he sneered, striding towards the brilliantly apricot door. “And when I get back, I think I have a story or two to share with your dumpy mother and disgrace of a father!”
Ginny froze. She couldn’t afford for her mum and dad to find out until after she brought Harry back. If they discovered what she was doing, it was inevitable that they would try and stop her. And Malfoy knew it, too. Trying to keep her voice even, she said, “Oh, I don’t think you will.” Once again she was wearing that hard, blazing look upon her face.
Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh, really? It’s a good thing I don’t care what you think, then. Because I am going back, whether you think I should or not. What do you propose I do…stay here?” he said with a derisive snort, putting a whole world of meaning behind that one word. He gave a meaningful glance around the odd-looking living room.
Ginny smirked, sharing a glance with Luna. “Well I think we have some conflicting ideas here. You want to go back, and I don’t want you to. You refuse to stay here, so I guess the only thing to do is to take you along, eh Malfoy?”
He stared at her, both of his eyebrows practically disappearing into his silvery-blonde hair fringe. “You expect me to go gallivanting about the countryside with you, of all people, to rescue Potter?” he asked incredulously.
“Yeah.”
Malfoy snorted in laughter. “Oh, that’s rich. Well as fun as that sounds, I’m afraid I don’t agree with you. Goodbye,” he said, putting his hand on the doorknob.
Ginny and Luna shared another glance before pouncing on the tall blonde boy in perfect synchrony, grabbing his arms and pulling him back. Malfoy looked positively tickled now, his whole face alight with snooty amusement. “Let’s get this straight. You, Weasley, and you, whatever your name is, aren’t even 6th years yet. And you expect to over power me, a wonderfully muscled and dashing 17 year old, without even a wand?”
“I think we’re doing a marvelous job,” said Luna, completely unruffled by ongoing events. “Here, have a seat, Draco.” She dragged a bewildered looking Malfoy over to the polka-dotted sofa and pushed him onto it. Then she disappeared into the kitchen without another word, leaving Ginny and Draco alone in the living room.
“Is she…quite right in the head?” asked Draco uncertainly.
“Of course she is!” snapped Ginny.
“Right…” said Draco, not sounding reassured at all, given who the reassuring was coming from. “Well, I’ll just be going now.” He made a move to get up, but Ginny pushed him back down.
“Wait just until Luna comes back.”
“Luna! I knew it started with crazy something-or-other,” he said, smirking a bit. He still sounded thoroughly spooked, but he remained on the couch. Perhaps he was more afraid of Luna than he let on.
The topic of the conversation drifted back into the room, hiding something behind her back in a thoroughly suspicious manner. She smiled at Draco in a manner that scared him witless, beckoning him closer. He got up, started walking towards her, than changed his mind and ran for the door. Ginny, who was expecting as much, held out her foot. Malfoy promptly tripped and fell on his pale, pointed face. Luna took advantage of his position, pulling his arms behind his back and tying it with the object she had been hiding; thickly braided rope.
Draco looked over his shoulder to see what she was doing. “You know, I’ve always dreamed of being tied up by two strange women and being taken advantage of, but somehow, this just isn’t quite what I had in mind.”
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Harry opened his mouth to object to this abrupt end to their conversation, but another masked and cloaked figure entered in place of Jugson. This one was smaller, thinner and, Harry suspected, a woman.
His suspicions were confirmed as she spoke in a surprisingly sweet voice, whispering, “Will you two quiet down? I can hear you from all the way down the corridor! If you want to escape, you’re going about it all the wrong way. See, the first step is to plan quietly. Alright, hold your chains up, boy; I don’t want them making a racket when I let you loose.”
Harry stared at her, unsure whether she was joking or not. He couldn’t really imagine a Death Eater with a sense of humor, but he couldn’t imagine a helpful Death Eater either. He heard Mr. Ollivander shifting around a bit and muttering to himself, obviously as dubious as Harry.
The Death Eater sighed in aggravation. “The second step for an easy escape is to listen to your rescuer, idiots. I haven’t got all day, you know. Hold up the bloody chains!” she said irritably, her voice losing some of its musical quality.
Harry quickly grabbed at his chains, and he heard Mr. Ollivander doing the same next door, albeit a bit more hesitantly. The witch got to work, tapping around Harry’s chains and muttering spells under her breath. Then, with a final word of command, Harry felt the chains slacken and his hands came free, surprisingly light. He suspected it was the lack of blood circulation. The witch passed through a door on his right to Mr. Ollivander’s cell.
Rubbing the red bands of raw skin on his wrists where the cuffs had been, Harry called out softly to the woman, “Why are you doing this—Yaxley, right? —why are you helping us?”
He heard more tapping and muttering, and then a soft clank as the chains fell to the ground. She and Ollivander came through the door toward him, Mr. Ollivander wobbling unsteadily, as though unused to using his legs. She looked at him for a moment, the eyes through her mask unreadable, saying in that soft, lilting voice, “I have my reasons. What’s important is that you get out of here safe and sound, and as quickly as possible. It wouldn’t do for my Lord to discover you running about the castle. Now, hurry!”
Harry stood up, dusting off his robes. His hand paused over his pocket, patting it frantically. “My wand!” he cried. “My wand, they’ve got it—I can’t leave without my—”
Yaxley put a hand on his arm to stop his frantic gesticulations, pulling a long slender stick out of her pocket. She pulled a similar one out of the other pocket and handed it to Mr. Ollivander. “Thanks,” Harry muttered sheepishly.
“It’s alright,” she replied, bemused. Then her voice suddenly became urgent. “I think I hear someone coming! Go on—go!”
Without a second thought, Harry grabbed Mr. Ollivander’s arm and flew out of the opening into the tunnels beyond.
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Authors Notes: Well that chapter was loads of fun to write; I love Luna, and I can see why J.K.R. loves her too. She’s awesome. Anyways, a couple of quote credits…
I don’t want your mother to worry. When she worries she starts saying things like 'I told you so' or 'Stop doing that I'm asleep'
--Family Guy (Love that show)
I feel so miserable without you, it's almost like having you here.
--Stephen Bishop
He wasn't certain if this was because they were trying to see more clearly, or if they simply wanted to leave at this point.
--Er, I forget whether I thought of this or someone else did. Well, I’ll put it on here just in case.
Luna’s large, protuberant eyes went even larger, if possible. “Daddy! Is that what I think it is?”
Mr. Lovegood smiled at his daughter, his frizzy blonde hair bouncing as he nodded his head in a comical bobble head fashion. He was a thin, forgetful-looking man with a small gentle smile. His cornflower blue eyes were just as large as his daughter’s, but there was a mildness about his mouth and eyes that claimed him a kind man. He spoke quickly, as though the words couldn’t wait to come out of his mouth.
“Amazing, isn’t it, my little Lunarina? I remember how disappointed you were when we didn’t find any on our trip, and I just couldn’t stand it. I asked around, and it turns out Madame Nettles had spotted one in Fiji! That’s where I went for that last weekend, I was ever so happy, now we have finally gotten a hold of one! Can you imagine?” He bounced on the balls of his feet, his big blue eyes on Luna’s face, eager for her reaction.
To a stranger, it would seem as though Luna was merely pleased, and Mr. Lovegood badly needed a trip to the loo. One would almost think she were the one taking care of him. And that’s how it had been, ever since Mrs. Lovegood had passed away so tragically. Luna shook her head as though to clear it. She smiled down at the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, prodding it softly. Then, looking at her father with wide silver eyes, she said happily, “Oh, Daddy, you’re very kind. But I’m afraid I can’t accept this present…the African Digglewumps don’t believe in kidnap, and neither do I.”
Mr. Lovegood’s hair bounced as he shook his head again. “Luna, Luna, Luna. As though I would have kept him here! No, no, the Snigglewumps are quite right—Digglewumps, sorry; kidnap is a horrible act indeed. On Christmas Day we shall go to Fiji and set him free. Perhaps we’ll meet a couple of Blibbering Humdingers as well,” he said, laughing a little at the absurdity of it all. Luna laughed with him. Everyone knew Blibbering Humdingers lived in the Arctic, not Fiji.
“Oops, would you look at the time! I’ve got to run now, have fun with your new friend. Mind you she doesn’t touch the tank in the kitchen; that could end rather nastily. I promised Mr. Dersyard a meeting--nice long article on Qorinch-Gardle mating, looking ever so forward to—” Mr. Lovegood’s voice disappeared with him as he descended down the rickety old stairs into the basement.
Luna gazed after him fondly, thinking of what a nice man he was as she stroked the furry creature in front of her. He had two little black eyes and ridges all along his hairy brown back. Scaly, flightless, and almost translucent wings protruded from right behind his neck, and he had a pink sniffling nose. He looked rather like a cross between a mutant insect and a cute kitten. Imagine, a real Crumple-Horned Snorkack! Luna was so preoccupied in examining the little creature of her dreams that the banging on the door went unnoticed. After all, strange noises were to be expected in this household.
Ginny pounded on the tangerine door again, shouting impatiently, “Luna! Open up! It’s me, Ginny!” She glanced about nervously, pulling her cloak tighter about her slim shoulders and shivering. The entire trip to Luna’s house she had felt the hairs on the back of her neck bristling with the paranoia that she was being followed. She would feel better once she was safe inside the house.
Finally the bright orange door opened and Luna stood there in all her otherworldly splendor. “Oh, hello Ginny. How are you today?” she asked serenely, absentmindedly yanking on a long blond strand of hair. Her penetrating silver eyes stared at a spot about four inches above Ginny’s left shoulder. “I received your message, but your feather ball insisted on staying. I think he’s feasting on the Owl Treats we leave out for the Nargles. They often get a bit rowdy this time of year, you know. It’s very harmful to our hydrangea bushes.”
Ginny stared at Luna for a moment, unsure of how to respond to this. Then she decided to just ignore it all together in her hurry to get inside the warmth of the small house. “I’m just peachy, thanks,” murmured Ginny as she pushed past her friend. She sighed in relief as the bitter cold was replaced with a merrily crackling fire, and sank into a polka-dotted couch with three legs. It tottered precariously. She tried not to pay to much attention to the odd knick-knacks scattered about the room haphazardly, and what looked like a spiky blob of fur next to her. She figured it would be better not to know. “Luna, would you shut the door? I’m about to die of the cold.”
No one answered. Ginny looked around to find Luna apparently in a heated conversation with the door. It seemed to be hissing something at her, but Ginny dismissed it; talking inanimate objects actually wasn’t that uncommon in the Wizarding World, after all. The only thing odd in this case was the choice of object; doors were a poor choice for charming because they were known to complain loudly about being slammed all the time. Very annoying, really.
“Er, Luna?” asked Ginny cautiously.
Luna broke off her conversation, but continued to glare at the door. “Hmm?”
“Door?”
“Oh, yes, alright,” she snapped at the door, slamming it.
Ginny stared at the blonde Ravenclaw, raising her eyebrows at her bizarre behavior and grinning. Luna, completely oblivious to Ginny’s reaction, drifted over to the armchair by the fire and settled down. Her robes rode up a bit, revealing brightly patterned socks. There was a small onion pinned on one of them. Luna caught Ginny staring, explaining in that matter-of-fact, spacey way of hers, “To ward off vampires, of course. Allows you to kick harder and improves your dancing skills, too. Father’s secretary invented them; she calls them Sock Rocks. Useful little baubles, aren’t they? She gave me a silver hat as well, for the werewolves, but I was afraid I was going to have an odd shape to my head and I was quite pleased that I didn't.”
Ginny’s face worked furiously as she tried hard not to laugh. This was one of the reasons she liked Luna so much--the way she could make her laugh whenever, whatever the circumstances. “I bet those come in handy. Really have to get them sometime,” she said, grinning. Then she sobered as she remembered the reason for her visit. Now was the time for clever plans and rescues, not sock trinkets.
“Have you packed yet? Harry’s been missing for a whole week already, I’d rather get moving before anything—” Ginny’s voice caught in her throat, and she swallowed hard. “Well, I’d just rather get going. We have a lot of ground to cover, if we’re going to the Isle of Skye on broomsticks.”
“Aha!”
Ginny’s head whipped around, her hair following a split second later to meet her face with a slap. She growled, shaking the scarlet curls out of her mouth. “Who’s there?” she called.
Behind her, Luna was making a face. “You said you’d stay quiet!” she said, her voice losing some of its dreamy quality. “You’re not very truthful, are you?” She glided over to the other side of the room, navigating her way around assorted bits of furniture with astonishing skill. It was a wonder she didn’t trip. Her hand went up, feeling around the air for a moment, and then it closed on something. Still scowling a bit, she tugged until a smug, pointed face emerged from under the Invisibility Cloak.
Draco Malfoy smirked, his gray eyes glittering maliciously. “Going somewhere, Weasley?”
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Jugson paced. He sat. He even tried tormenting the Potter boy for a while, but the boy refused to speak. He sat there on the cold, damp dungeon floor with his wrists shackled to the wall and simply glared with those startlingly green eyes of his. It was unnerving, really. Finally, Jugson decided he couldn’t take it anymore. The silence was killing him.
He shuffled out of the room, intending to go and fetch Yaxley. He had no idea why the Dark Lord wanted her to take the next shift, but in this line of business, one learned not to ask questions.
Harry sighed in relief as what he now referred to in his head as the “psycho Death Eater” (although they all seemed a bit off their rockers) left the room. For the past half hour he had been trying to Apparate out of his bonds to no avail. He had strained as hard as possible. Destination, Deliberation, and determination. Or was it deliberation, determination, and destination? Harry couldn’t remember. It seemed the chains were charmed against that sort of thing anyways.
He grimaced, bringing his knees up so he was in a crouching position, hoping to take some weight off of his wrists. The cold edges of the chains were jagged, rubbing against them and peeling the skin away. Harry swore as he felt a warm liquid that was unmistakably blood slowly make its way down his arm.
“Who’s there?” someone rasped suddenly. Harry froze, trying to stop his chains from jangling so much. He strained to hear where the voice had come from; perhaps the other side of his cell wall?
The voice spoke again, this time sounding more normal. “Curious,” it muttered.
Harry’s emerald eyes widened. “Mr. Ollivander?” he whispered.
He heard chains rattling about as the man on the other side of the wall adjusted himself to take advantage of all the comfort the hard stone of the wall had to offer. “I thought that might be you, Harry. What a pleasant surprise,” he said, though he did not sound pleasantly surprised in the least. “They’ve captured you as well, I assume?”
Harry couldn’t believe it. Out of all the places to meet the man who had given him the wand that had saved his skin so many times, it had to be in the bowels of Death Eater Central. He spoke slowly, trying to process this information. “Er, yeah. Caught me by surprise, you could say. And yourself? I’d heard you had gone missing, but a lot of folks reckon you’d just up and gone from your own free will…” he said hesitantly, wondering if maybe he should have been more tactful.
Mr. Ollivander gave a humorless little laugh and said, with a touch of bitterness, “Of course, of course. No struggle. No, it was very cleverly planned out I have to admit. Caught me by surprise as well-- you know that Lucius Malfoy, such a smooth talker, and I, very stupidly on my part…well, I followed him. And now I’m here, with chains bound around my wrists and a slave to someone I swore myself against the day I saw the use he had put one of my wands to.” Harry had to press his ear against the wall to hear the last bit; Mr. Ollivander’s voice was growing quieter and quieter with each word.
“Why you, though? I mean, maybe for the wands, but I hear they didn’t even touch your store—I mean, why would they need you for?” he said, feeling as if every word was coming out the wrong way. Even with the thick stone of the wall in between them, Mr. Ollivander had the effect of making him feel peculiar and uneasy. He could almost feel those eerie, moon-like eyes gazing at him through the cell wall. Harry squirmed uncomfortably, his chains jangling.
Finally Mr. Ollivander spoke, his voice wry. “Ah, yes—you’re so young, you have yet to see the extent of their treachery…Killing and torturing, is that all you think it is?”
Harry felt his face heating up in anger; why did people always insist on treating him like a little kid? As though he knew nothing? His mental rant was cut short before it ever really began as the wandmaker began talking again. “Perhaps it’s best that you don’t know,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument.
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“What do you mean, she’s missing!” asked Ron hotly.
“What it means, Ron, is that she is missing. Can’t find her; gone--poof,” said Mr. Weasley tiredly, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Try to lower your voice, will you? I don’t want your mother to worry. When she worries she starts saying things like 'I told you so' or 'Stop doing that I'm asleep'.”
Ron’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. He wasn't certain if this was because they were trying to see more clearly, or if they simply wanted to leave at this point. Sweet merciful Merlin, cast a Memory Charm on me now, Ron thought desperately.
Ron was saved from replying to that awkward comment by Mrs. Weasley’s dramatic entrance. “Arthur!” she cried, galloping down the stairs into the kitchen at a pace surprising for a woman of her…girth. “Arthur, a note! I’ve found a note!”
“In her room, you found it? What does it say? Go on, Molly, read it!” said Mr. Weasley anxiously, all traces of his earlier exhaustion disappearing.
Mrs. Weasley unfolded the piece of parchment with trembling hands, her eyebrows drawn together in worry, the lines around her mouth and eyes more pronounced then ever. Her baby girl—her only girl—was missing, and she wasn’t sure she could handle a blow like that. What if it was a ransom note? Mrs. Weasley covered her face at just the thought; she thrust the parchment at Arthur for him to read instead.
I’ve gone to Luna’s for a while, don’t know when I’ll be back. You know the Lovegood’s, Dad; Mr. Lovegood is the editor of the Quibbler. I’m sorry I left so suddenly—I just couldn’t handle it. Those Malfoys are driving me up the wall! I hope I didn’t worry you too much; I’ll owl you when I get there. Good luck with the Malfoys!
Love from Ginny
Mrs. Weasley sagged in relief, letting the safety of her daughter sink in for a few moments before snapping back up in anger. “How dare she just up and leave like that, without so much as a warning!”
”I’m just glad she’s all right.”
Mrs. Weasley looked at her husband disbelievingly, and said, “Surely you aren’t going to let her stay there, Arthur!”
Arthur gave a little shrug. “I can’t say I don’t like it, but I know Lovegood from often enough encounters—strange man, but I know he’d never let any harm come to Ginny.”
“Yes, but Arthur—”
Mr. Weasley cut in rather sharply, “Molly, you yourself have been complaining about them nonstop. Quite honestly, we don’t know whether her friends will be around later on; the least we can do right now is let her spend the time she has with them.” He sighed at his wife’s stricken face.
“I’m sorry, Molly, but I just think it would be best to let her stay where she is. I mean, really, what’s the worst that could happen?” he said, sending a small, reassuring smile to his wife.
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Ginny’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly. Draco stood there with his pale blonde hair shining in the firelight, his smirk growing even wider as he saw Ginny’s speechlessness.
“Nothing to say, Weasley? How touching…I didn’t know you’d miss me that much. If I did, I’d have come out sooner.”
Ginny’s voice came rushing back, along with a sense of blinding anger. “Oh yes, I felt so miserable without you, it’s almost like having you here!” she snapped, her whole 5’4” frame shaking with her wrath. “You followed me!” Even stating this simple fact added to her fury; it felt like a horrible violation of her privacy.
“Good observation, detective. I’m surprised you’re just realizing this. I sneezed right behind you at least twice on the way here,” he said mockingly. “Friend’s house my ass. I knew you were up to something. Going to save Scarhead, eh? So the idiot went and got himself captured; to be expected, really.”
She felt an insane urge to sock him in the eye and wipe that annoying smirk off his face once and for all. Luna drifted over to where Ginny was standing and put a small, restraining hand on her arm, as though guessing what she was thinking. She opted to glare at him instead, snarling viciously, “I’m surprised you aren’t over there with the rest of them, dancing around screaming war chants or whatever it is you Death Eaters do.”
Draco’s face contorted but he did not deny it as he said scathingly, “I wish; if I were lucky, maybe I’d get to teach Saint Potter a few lessons.”
“I knew it!” she practically shouted. “Dad may say you’ve changed, but I know you’re still an overbearing, evil, conniving git. Get the bloody hell out of here right now, Malfoy…before I make you,” growled Ginny menacingly, her brown eyes alive with rage.
“Fine by me, Weasley,” he sneered, striding towards the brilliantly apricot door. “And when I get back, I think I have a story or two to share with your dumpy mother and disgrace of a father!”
Ginny froze. She couldn’t afford for her mum and dad to find out until after she brought Harry back. If they discovered what she was doing, it was inevitable that they would try and stop her. And Malfoy knew it, too. Trying to keep her voice even, she said, “Oh, I don’t think you will.” Once again she was wearing that hard, blazing look upon her face.
Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh, really? It’s a good thing I don’t care what you think, then. Because I am going back, whether you think I should or not. What do you propose I do…stay here?” he said with a derisive snort, putting a whole world of meaning behind that one word. He gave a meaningful glance around the odd-looking living room.
Ginny smirked, sharing a glance with Luna. “Well I think we have some conflicting ideas here. You want to go back, and I don’t want you to. You refuse to stay here, so I guess the only thing to do is to take you along, eh Malfoy?”
He stared at her, both of his eyebrows practically disappearing into his silvery-blonde hair fringe. “You expect me to go gallivanting about the countryside with you, of all people, to rescue Potter?” he asked incredulously.
“Yeah.”
Malfoy snorted in laughter. “Oh, that’s rich. Well as fun as that sounds, I’m afraid I don’t agree with you. Goodbye,” he said, putting his hand on the doorknob.
Ginny and Luna shared another glance before pouncing on the tall blonde boy in perfect synchrony, grabbing his arms and pulling him back. Malfoy looked positively tickled now, his whole face alight with snooty amusement. “Let’s get this straight. You, Weasley, and you, whatever your name is, aren’t even 6th years yet. And you expect to over power me, a wonderfully muscled and dashing 17 year old, without even a wand?”
“I think we’re doing a marvelous job,” said Luna, completely unruffled by ongoing events. “Here, have a seat, Draco.” She dragged a bewildered looking Malfoy over to the polka-dotted sofa and pushed him onto it. Then she disappeared into the kitchen without another word, leaving Ginny and Draco alone in the living room.
“Is she…quite right in the head?” asked Draco uncertainly.
“Of course she is!” snapped Ginny.
“Right…” said Draco, not sounding reassured at all, given who the reassuring was coming from. “Well, I’ll just be going now.” He made a move to get up, but Ginny pushed him back down.
“Wait just until Luna comes back.”
“Luna! I knew it started with crazy something-or-other,” he said, smirking a bit. He still sounded thoroughly spooked, but he remained on the couch. Perhaps he was more afraid of Luna than he let on.
The topic of the conversation drifted back into the room, hiding something behind her back in a thoroughly suspicious manner. She smiled at Draco in a manner that scared him witless, beckoning him closer. He got up, started walking towards her, than changed his mind and ran for the door. Ginny, who was expecting as much, held out her foot. Malfoy promptly tripped and fell on his pale, pointed face. Luna took advantage of his position, pulling his arms behind his back and tying it with the object she had been hiding; thickly braided rope.
Draco looked over his shoulder to see what she was doing. “You know, I’ve always dreamed of being tied up by two strange women and being taken advantage of, but somehow, this just isn’t quite what I had in mind.”
____________________________
Harry opened his mouth to object to this abrupt end to their conversation, but another masked and cloaked figure entered in place of Jugson. This one was smaller, thinner and, Harry suspected, a woman.
His suspicions were confirmed as she spoke in a surprisingly sweet voice, whispering, “Will you two quiet down? I can hear you from all the way down the corridor! If you want to escape, you’re going about it all the wrong way. See, the first step is to plan quietly. Alright, hold your chains up, boy; I don’t want them making a racket when I let you loose.”
Harry stared at her, unsure whether she was joking or not. He couldn’t really imagine a Death Eater with a sense of humor, but he couldn’t imagine a helpful Death Eater either. He heard Mr. Ollivander shifting around a bit and muttering to himself, obviously as dubious as Harry.
The Death Eater sighed in aggravation. “The second step for an easy escape is to listen to your rescuer, idiots. I haven’t got all day, you know. Hold up the bloody chains!” she said irritably, her voice losing some of its musical quality.
Harry quickly grabbed at his chains, and he heard Mr. Ollivander doing the same next door, albeit a bit more hesitantly. The witch got to work, tapping around Harry’s chains and muttering spells under her breath. Then, with a final word of command, Harry felt the chains slacken and his hands came free, surprisingly light. He suspected it was the lack of blood circulation. The witch passed through a door on his right to Mr. Ollivander’s cell.
Rubbing the red bands of raw skin on his wrists where the cuffs had been, Harry called out softly to the woman, “Why are you doing this—Yaxley, right? —why are you helping us?”
He heard more tapping and muttering, and then a soft clank as the chains fell to the ground. She and Ollivander came through the door toward him, Mr. Ollivander wobbling unsteadily, as though unused to using his legs. She looked at him for a moment, the eyes through her mask unreadable, saying in that soft, lilting voice, “I have my reasons. What’s important is that you get out of here safe and sound, and as quickly as possible. It wouldn’t do for my Lord to discover you running about the castle. Now, hurry!”
Harry stood up, dusting off his robes. His hand paused over his pocket, patting it frantically. “My wand!” he cried. “My wand, they’ve got it—I can’t leave without my—”
Yaxley put a hand on his arm to stop his frantic gesticulations, pulling a long slender stick out of her pocket. She pulled a similar one out of the other pocket and handed it to Mr. Ollivander. “Thanks,” Harry muttered sheepishly.
“It’s alright,” she replied, bemused. Then her voice suddenly became urgent. “I think I hear someone coming! Go on—go!”
Without a second thought, Harry grabbed Mr. Ollivander’s arm and flew out of the opening into the tunnels beyond.
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Authors Notes: Well that chapter was loads of fun to write; I love Luna, and I can see why J.K.R. loves her too. She’s awesome. Anyways, a couple of quote credits…
I don’t want your mother to worry. When she worries she starts saying things like 'I told you so' or 'Stop doing that I'm asleep'
--Family Guy (Love that show)
I feel so miserable without you, it's almost like having you here.
--Stephen Bishop
He wasn't certain if this was because they were trying to see more clearly, or if they simply wanted to leave at this point.
--Er, I forget whether I thought of this or someone else did. Well, I’ll put it on here just in case.
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