The Anti-Heroine || A Harry Potter Fanfiction

Chapter XVIII

Chapter XXVIII:

Harry's POV:

The invisibility cloak now rendered practically useless, Harry shucked it and shoved it into his pocket, the one Hermione had experimented on with a bottomless charm Tom had taught her. The pocket wasn't exactly 'bottomless' but he could stick his arm in it up to his elbow so he thought it was pretty useful– Hermione hadn't been as pleased as he was, though, and he now had four other jumpers with pockets of varying sizes as she'd continued practicing until she'd got the spell right.

The two of them reached the Whomping Willow, slowing to a halt just out of range of the branches, and Harry watched as the student– he couldn't see the face of whoever it was, though from their size he guessed they were either a second, third or fourth year– hooked their leg around a root in an effort to stop themselves from being dragged underground. And then a horrible crack cut through the air like a gunshot; the unidentified student's leg had broken and the next second they'd vanished from sight.

"Did you see who it was?" He asked, panting slightly. Hermione shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin white line. Harry took a deep breath and measured the distance between them and the hole where the massive beast and the student had disappeared. "Okay. How do we distract the tree?" he asked, determinedly.

"Distract it?" Hermione's voice was pitched higher then usual. "You want us distract the bloody tree then try and go fucking rescue that idiot kid?"

"Hermione– please!" Harry pleaded, needing her to understand that he couldn't just let some innocent kid be dragged off in front of him and not do anything about it. Harry knew his morals were already compromised and that they'd only get more so as time went on– but he also knew he wasn't the sort of person who could just stand back and watch a classmate be dragged away by some sort of monster.

Hermione let out a low groan as she correctly read the determination on his face but she nodded. "Fine," she said, "fine." A look of great concentration crossed her face and Harry watched as she swished her wand in a graceful arc and shouted, "IMMOBULOUS!" Abruptly, as though it had just been turned to marble, the Whomping Willow stopped moving. Not a leaf twitched or shook.

Hermione didn't waste a second, grasping his arm in a painful grip and sprinting forwards. They covered the distance to the trunk in seconds then dove through the hole, sliding headfirst down an earthy slope to the bottom of a very low tunnel. Behind them, Harry could hear the Whomping Willow start moving again and silently gave thanks for Hermione's foresight.

"Can you see anything?" He whispered to her as he tried peering around but Hermione shook her head.

"Let's keep moving," she urged and they hurried along as fast as they could, bent almost double. On and on the passage went and then the tunnel abruptly began to rise; moments later it twisted and Harry could see a patch of dim light through a small opening.

He and Hermione paused, gasping for breath for a few moments before edging forwards. He raised his wand and Hermione mirrored his actions to see what lay beyond.

It was a room, a very disordered and dusty room, with paper peeling from the walls, brownish stains all over the floor that looked suspiciously like dried blood, with every piece of furniture broken and the windows all boarded up.

Harry carefully pulled himself out of the hole, staring around. The room he was in was deserted but a door to their right stood open, leading to a shadowy hallway. "Harry," Hermione breathed in his ear, "I think we're in the Shrieking Shack!"

"Well ghosts didn't do that," Harry whispered back, nodding towards where large chunks had been ripped out of the wall. At that moment there was a creak overhead– something had moved upstairs. Harry raised his eyebrows at Hermione and she narrowed her eyes, her lips pursed, but she nodded reluctantly.