The Guardian

Hi everyone! I just wanted to take the time to wish one and all a Happy Halloween!

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Hall of Horrors


As it turned out it wasn’t Snape that took them over to the portrait in question, but Ron, Bill and Shacklebolt. Hermione had snuck out of bed and had found Bill. Silently they got Ron as well as Shacklebolt. Within minutes they were able to find Harry out on the quidditch field. They stood there staring up at him chasing after the snitch. When Shacklebolt was about to pass her in order to take to the sky and get him, Hermione’s hand shot out and caught him by the arm.


“No,” she murmured. “Let him come to us.”


“How do you know he will at all?” he asked her. “There’s no guarantee he will.”


She turned to face him, her features hard as stone. “Are you questioning my authority?”


“Never!” he whispered, going down to his knee in front of her with his head lowered.


Hermione let out a withered sigh as she pulled him to his feet. Caressing his head she told him, “Not intentionally, no you weren’t. But in questioning my methods, you question my authority. Don’t do it again. Severus has been very short tempered lately. I would hate for you to be punished over something you didn’t intend.”


“Yes, ma’am,” he breathed.


She looked back up and saw Harry staring down at them. Sooner or later curiosity was going to get the better of him. Hermione would have preferred for it to be sooner rather than later, but Harry wasn’t known for complying with other’s timetables. A half an hour later he was on the ground and stepping in front of them.


“So glad you decided to join us,” Hermione said as Bill lifted her up and set her to her feet. “We need to speak you and I.”


“And what are they for?” he motioned to the others there.


“Protection,” she murmured.


“From me?” Harry demanded with the outrage strong in his tones.


“On the contrary,” she said. “The danger doesn’t come from either of us.” She yanked a map out of her sleeve, holding it out towards Harry. “Here take it.”


“What is it?” he asked, rolling it open. “Is this the school?”


“Yes, it is,” Hermione told him. “More to the point, it is the parts of the school that haven’t been seen in ages. We are going right there…” She pointed to a large room that Harry had never seen before. “It’s far bellow the cemetery here on the grounds. And we need to go there to get the answers you want.”


“What exactly is there?” he asked her.


“It’s a rather infamous portrait gallery,” she explained to him. “And we are going there because you…” She tapped his nose in a teasing fashion one would do with a child. “…went to see the wrong portrait, Harry.”


“But…”


“Not all answers can be found with Professor Dumbledore,” she rebuked him mildly. “Is that not right, Severus?”


“That is very true, minx,” he growled, yanking her back against him. “You were planning on going without me?”


“No,” she breathed, relaxing against him. “I would never do that.” She looked into his eyes. “I put you through so much. I was only hoping that you were able to rest a bit more.”


He leaned his head down, brushing his nose against hers lightly. “You don’t expect me to believe that do you?”


“No, but it was worth a shot,” she admitted. “You can punish me later. Right now we need to take Harry to the Hall of Horrors…”


“You are not going!” Snape roared, fear clear in his face.


“The only way to guarantee that he sees what he must is if I am there,” she told him. “I must go for him to know the truth.”


He caught her face in his hands and forced her to look him in the eyes as he growled, “You are not going and that is final!”


“What exactly is down there?” Harry asked Ron.


“Some of the portraits of certain witches and wizards who went off their collective nuts is what I heard,” Ron told him. “The twins went over there once. They never spoke about what they saw there, but every time I asked they would shiver and say ‘Don’t ever go there. Ever.’”


“Shacklebolt, you, Bill, and Ron take Harry over. Protect him.” Hermione took off a necklace and handed it to Harry. “Take this. It’s a necklace my mother gave me before she died. It may very well be what you need to get the answers you want.” She curled her fingers over the jewelry. “I’m entrusting it to you, Harry. Please bring it back to me whole.”


“If it’s as dangerous as you say, why are we going?” Harry asked.


“Because that is where the portrait you need to speak to is,” she murmured. “Good luck to you all.” With that she turned to Snape and the two walked away.


***


The journey went uneventfully as they hiked down to the cave entrance they needed at the gates of the cemetery and went down a winding staircase. It was in the middle of all the walking that Harry wondered why they didn’t apperate or in the very least take their brooms. He even asked this, but he was met with silence as they only continued on the trek.


All in all, the trip itself wasn’t a very long one, but it was a frightening one. Sounds echoed through the tunnels, making one and all jump and stop on several occasions. When they reached the final destination, everything went dead quiet. It was Bill that took out his wand, lighting the room with a charm. Ron and Harry looked around at all the different witches and wizards on the walls all in various states of madness. In several of the paintings it even looked like the image of the individual had committed suicide.


“He’s over here,” called Shacklebolt, looking up at the portrait in question.


The others joined him there, but it was Harry that gasped out the name of the man in the painting.


“Remus?”


There standing in his bedraggled robes was the one time professor of DADA. He looked very stately as he stood there, smiling quietly down at them.


“Harry, it’s nice to see you,” Lupin’s image said to him. “What brings you here?”


“Show it to him,” Bill muttered. “Do it.”


Hesitantly Harry pulled out the necklace and held it out in front of himself. Lupin’s face hardened, his eyes narrowing as he leaned in to look at it closer. A tick developed in his cheek even as he began to growl.


“Where is she?” he demanded in a quiet voice. “Where is my bitch?” His fists hit the barrier of the canvas, jolting the painting. “She is mine!” And it was then that in the portrait the full moon shined on him. He transformed into that of a werewolf with blood dripping off his fangs and sharp claws.


If this wasn’t frightening enough what came next was enough to horrify and sicken. The werewolf went behind the curtain and yanked a naked bloody Hermione to show them as to reinforce his claims. The moon left the portrait, but this didn’t stop Lupin or his insanity as he proceeded to begin to beat her.


“To whom do you belong, bitch?” he would roar over and over again.


But the only thing she would answer in a very weak voice was, “Severus.”


“Enough!” Harry roared, pulling out his wand and aiming it at the painting. “It ends now!” The spell he screamed melted the paint, destroying the painting.


The painting only fixed itself. In the end Lupin was smiling down at Harry with a mocking grin that had chills going through him. But it didn’t last as the one person he didn’t expect to join them did so. Hermione along with Snape walked up to the painting. Lupin snarled and tried to get through the painting, but couldn’t.


It was Hermione who whispered, “It’s over.”


“It’s never over!” he yelled. “You belong to me!”


“No.”


“My alpha gave you to me!” he cried, sounding more and more like a child being denied what he wanted.


“He hadn’t the power to give me to anyone, least of all to a beta werewolf.” She slipped her hand into Snape’s, holding it tightly. “You’re dead.”


Lupin went still, blinking at her in disbelief.


“I killed you,” she whispered. “Goodbye, Remus.”


“No-o-o-o!!!!” the scream echoed in the chamber even as they were all leaving.


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