A Potter Secret

Daring Escapes

Rushing wicked fast over dark water, hastened by a stiff wind. Below, a shadow flickers intermittently on the water's surface but it is too dark and the surface too uncertain for the shadow to be identified. We rise slightly, the view expanding until a small island comes into view. We circle slowly. All is dark below. The wind screams. Then something glimmers, something pale and smooth, an obelisk crafted of marble. We drop from the sky, as if on wings. Ext. Island, continuous action, night the obelisk looms larger from this vantage point. A tomb fit for an emperor. A name is inscribed upon its surface, Albus Dumbledore. The obelisk begins to tremble, then drifts slowly aside, revealing a translucent stone slab, beyond which a body in repose can be discerned. Smash! The translucent slab shatters. The air glimmers briefly with diamond-like shards and Dumbledore's body is revealed. He appears to be sleeping. A few of the diamond shards cling to his cheek. A shadow, the shadow from before, eclipses his face and Voldemort appears, peering down at Dumbledore's lifeless body. For a moment, he simply stares, transfixed by the sight of his old foe at peace. Then he reaches out and covers Dumbledore's interlaced hands with his own. The moment is oddly tender. After a moment, he retracts his hand, claiming the wand clutched in Dumbledore's fingers as his own. He studies it, his face a mask. The wind rises yet again, carrying us away, back to the darkness of the water. A lake comes into view, the black lake of Hogwarts, its surface thick and still as tar, shrouded in what appears to be a foul mist but which is, we come to find, in reality a festering cluster of dementors the quidditch pitch stands silent, untended, faded house flags hanging limply under the slate sky, the castle stands like a dark fortress, its quirky angles and gleaming windows diminished in the gray light figures come into view, students, marching in lines, like grim regiments, across the bridge, chivvied on by a pair of death eaters, Alecto and Amycus Carrow, while high upon a balustrade, his face a mask, Severus Snape looks on. We draw closer, but nothing more is revealed. His face remains a mask, his eyes untelling. Finally, he turns away, his cloak wiping our field, pitching us once more into

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The static, little more than a feeble hiss now, dies out altogether. A soft whisper of wind fills our ears, faint but clear, and we are moving once more, up high yet again. The earth falls away below us, revealing a sea of treetops, shifting eerily as we sweep over them. A gravel road comes into view, and then, a few yards on, figures on foot.

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Scabior, Fenrir Greyback and a ragtag group of snatchers escort Harry, Ron and Hermione past thick yew hedges. Hermione eyes a white peacock, looking like a ghostly lawn ornament. Harry, his face horribly swollen, whispers, "What did you put on me?" Harry asks.

"A Stinging Jinx," Hermione whispers back.

"How long will it last?" Harry questions.

"Not long," Hermione replies.

Harry glances down, sees his glasses cupped in Hermione's palm. As he slips them into his pocket, the group suddenly slows. Up ahead, on the other side of the gate, Bellatrix, Lucius and Narcissa approach. Scabior grabs Harry's arm, pushes his face up to the iron bars. Bellatrix steps close. "Show me," Bellatrix demands.

Scabior reaches out his dirty fingers and pushes Harry's hair roughly off his forehead. Bellatrix shines her wand. Despite the swelling, one intriguing feature can be seen, a scar, in the shape of a lightning bolt? Bellatrix studies it long and hard then smiles.

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As Bellatrix leads the procession inside, she speaks to Narcissa. "Get Draco," Bellatrix instructs. Narcissa eyes her sister briefly, warily, then strides off, toward the brightly-lit room ahead, where her husband Lucius stands, cradling a nearly-empty wine glass.