Love Is The Darkest Art

Part 39: Ice & Fire Fight

Scene 66:

Hermione looked at the broom in trepidation. She'd never been much good at flying, and the broom Hagrid provided wasn't in good shape.

"I use it for sweeping," he explained. "Can't fly very well on a stick, being my size and all."

Hermione nodded, looking at the ratty thing. For once, she wished she were Harry, or even Ron. They knew their way around broomsticks.
"What were those things?" she asked, trying not to think of what she was getting ready to do. "Those boys? Are they like ghosts or something?"

"Well, they be dead, that's for sure. But not exactly ghosts. They used to just call them the lost boys of the lake. Until Dumbledore froze it over year round. I guess everyone had forgotten about them."

"What killed them and made them that way? They were wearing Slytherin colors."

"Yeah, Slytherin. They say it was he who enchanted the lake long ago. Gave it an evil soul, I reckon. I can only assume he meant it fer his enemies, but it turned on him and years later took some of his own. Back when most yer teachers were students here themselves. They say a group of Slytherin boys were playing on the ice one winter. They were troublemakers, like Draco, and I guess they was doing stuff they shouldn't out there. The ice broke through and they were lost in the lake. Don't know what happened to them down there but when they were pulled out it was too late. They were dead. Froze solid, I heard. But something of them remained in that lake. Maybe a dark piece of their soul or something, and it took on a life if it's own. So, Dumbledore sealed the lake. I guess somebody let them out."

Hermione thought of her nightmare. The boys on the lake. The one who was sitting on the sidelines. Who was he? She had no time to waste on these things. She had to rescue Draco somehow. She looked at the old, tattered broom in front of her. "Up," she commanded. It did nothing. "Up," she said again, a little more forceful. Begrudgingly, the broom rose, allowing Hermione to straddle it. She gripped it tight, apparently nervous about flying on the ratty thing. She looked at Hagrid. "Wish me luck."

"Um, look here, Hermione, you can't go off like this, trying to save the day all by yourself. That Draco, he don't even like you."

Tears started to well up in her eyes, but she couldn't tell Hagrid the truth. He might have been the most relaxed and open minded of her teachers, but he wasn't very good at secrets once he got to talking. "It doesn't matter," she finally replied. "He's Hogwarts, and that's all that matters."

"You have a good heart, Hermione Granger. Go on and go. I'll try to catch up quick as I can." He slapped the back of the broom as if it was a horse's flank. With a sudden jerk, it leaped forward, nearly unseating the girl. "Oops, did I do that?"

"Fly, new friend," Hermione whispered in a tiny voice, and the broom took off into the air, leaving Hagrid to talk to himself.

Once he realized she was gone and on her way, he whistled. A large black boarhound was suddenly to his side. "Well Fang, you ready for a run?"

Scene 67:

The wintry night air was so chill, Hermione's hands were nearly stuck to the broom. But this was a good thing. At intervals, the broom bucked, as if trying to shake her off. "I don't like riding on you any more than you like me to," she scolded. "Just get me to the lake, and you can go back to being propped up in a corner waiting for dust."

From this height, and she wished to go no higher, Hermione couldn't see the lost boys of the lake. They'd had a pretty good lead on her, and by all likelihood, had already returned to their icy home with the captive Draco. Please don't let me lose him, she thought. Don't let them kill my Draco. With the thought of killing, she began to cry anew, but then caught herself. She had to be strong. For Draco. Only courage was going to save him. This was no time for a weeping girl. This was a time to step up and be somebody's hero for once. The time for victims was over.

Up ahead, she spied the lake as it came into view. There were figures on it's frozen surface. Maybe she wasn't too late. With strong resolve, she commanded the broom to go faster. It didn't argue this time and followed her orders as if she were its master, and it a nimbus model broom.

As she drew nearer and swooped down towards the lake, she saw the figures more clearly. Draco lay sprawled on the ice, still unconscious. His captors seemed to be searching for something. Frantic, they scurried around, looking for something they couldn't see from their vantage point. But Hermione could. The hole in the ice from which they had emerged. They couldn't locate it. But she saw it and knew she had to reach them quick if she were to save Draco. Her Draco. Not theirs. Hers!

She sent the broom into a dive, much in the way she'd seen Harry do in the midst of exciting Quidditch matches. The dead boy creatures noticed her swooping down and snarled, still trying to find their way home. Hermione released the broom and rolled off just inches above the ice. Instantly she was on her feet, wand drawn.

One of the boys growled and charged at her. Once he may have had blonde hair, but now it was a sickly pale green, and it writhed on his head like angry sea snakes. Normally, it would have been a frightening visage to terrorize, but now it just made Hermione angry.

"Impedimenta," she shouted. The tip of her wand sparked and the boy seemed to freeze in place. He snarled, unable to fully move but still struggling against the spell. Hermione turned to the next one, jabbing her wand in his direction. "Impedimenta!" He tried to duck to avoid the attack, but it still struck him full on causing his limbs to lock, rendering him immobile.

The remaining two lost boys hit her both at the same time, sending her and her wand skittering across the ice in different directions. One of them, a boy with ice protruding from his silvery blue face, let out a cry of triumph. He had discovered the opening in the ice. Quickly, he went for Draco's prone form and snatched him up. The other clutched Hermione's throat in a tight grip, lifting her off the ground.

"He is ours," he hissed. "We have waited many years for another to be added to our number. It was always supposed to be five."

"Pick somebody else," Hermione managed to say, though the supernatural thing tightened its grips. "He is mine."

For a moment, the thing's face slackened, as if for a brief second humanity had tried to regain hold. But it snarled again. "Then we'll take you both," it said, dragging her towards the hole.

She tried to fight him, but he still held her by the throat. The more she struggled, the tighter his hold became. She began to choke and gag, but she managed to get one word out. "Accio."

The wand raced towards her and settled in her hand. She twirled it in her fingers and hoarsely choked out the command, "Incendio," before jabbing the tip into the lost boy's eye. A burst of flame erupted from the socket. Hermione was released and she fell to the ice, still clutching her fire tipped wand.

The dead boy howled in terror and anguish. From his eye, and down onto his cheek, he seemed to be melting, as if he were made of ice himself. He tried to pat the flame out, but to no avail. Half blind, he ran towards where he thought the hole in the ice would be. He couldn't find it and screamed his anger and fear, spinning around on the ice. Then the Impedimenta charm wore off of his companions.

Hermione turned to them, ready to incinerate their faces too, but they were gliding past her, seizing their frantic companion and pulling him to the hole. They dropped him through and he sank into the icy depths, the flame immediately extinguished. Then they turned to Hermione, a cold rage in their eyes. She knew she couldn't take them both and save Draco as well. Already he'd been seized by the boy with the ice in his face. She was going to have to choose. Fight the oncoming dead duo or wrest Malfoy from the one who was dragging him to the ice opening. Wielding her wand, she took aim. "Incendio!"