Harry opened his mouth, closed it again, and leaned his head back against the wall tiredly. Is there anything I could say that would -
No.
Harry sighed. All right, then. Do what you like, Malfoy, you always do.
'They?re doing it again,' said Ron, suddenly, startling Hermione out of her eavesdropping reverie. 'Standing there staring at each other.
Its weird.'
'They?re talking,' said Hermione serenely. She let go of the Lycanthe as she spoke. 'Thats how they talk.'
Ron looked at her suspiciously. 'Can you hear them?'
She smiled. 'Maybe,' she said, a little distracted. Harry and Draco had finished their conversation and headed back towards them.
Ron was still irritable. 'It gives me the creeps. Harry shouldn?t be hiding things from me that way.'
'Ron, not everything is about you,' Hermione said, walking forward and falling into step beside Harry. Draco dropped back, almost between them and Ron, and they moved further through the serpentine corridors. She squinted and tried to see to the end of the hallway, but Harrys hand on her arm caused her to stop and turn and stare right at her own face.
It wasn?t a mirror, she knew that from the blue eyes that were gazing back at her from the wall. No, she had seen this face before, framed by hair that was like hers, yet somehow different, wearing a dark blue dress that was almost identical to the one she was in now, the one that Rowena Ravenclaw had dressed her in a thousand years before — or the previous day. She heard Draco swear behind her, and realized that none of the others had seen this before. She herself had only seen it when she had been kidnapped, the day she took the love potion, when it had been hanging in a round, tapestry-filled room. She wondered vaguely why Slytherin had moved it into this hallway, and felt Harry beside her reach his arm out, as if to touch his ancestors face. Harry, who had so little experience with ancestors, was clearly transfixed by the face of Godric Gryffindor; she doubted he?d even seen the other founders? depictions. She took his other hand in hers, to offer a little comfort, as his fingertips brushed against the tapestry threads, and then…
She heard Ron say suddenly, and very sharply, 'Don?t touch that!
Its a trap!' but it was too late; with a great rumbling and grinding noise, the floor seemed to open up under Hermiones feet. She heard Harry next to her shout in surprise; then the earth lurched again and she was tumbling down into darkness with Harry beside her.
* * * * *
Sirius strode down the corridors exuding far more confidence than he felt. It seemed to be working, as well. Gray-robed minions hurried past him in great numbers, but not a one of them stopped to glance at him. It seemed to him, in fact, that they were all hurrying in the same direction with some sort of purpose, although he couldn?t guess what that might be. Nothing good, he expected.
He had confidently claimed to Harry and the rest that he knew exactly where he was going. In truth, this was not the case. He thought he recognized the corridor he was in, with its many shadowed doorways, as the one he had been in with Lupin and the banshee woman, Raven. Yes, surely it was the right hallway. The flagstone floor seemed familiar, as did the curling-serpent torch brackets and the arched, almost oval wooden doors set in the wall at intervals. And there — surely that was the door Raven had shown Lupin through, carved of dark oak, brass-banded. He paused in front of it and then, before he had a chance to move, the handle of the door suddenly slid up, and it creaked open from the inside.
Sirius backed up along the hallway, and stared.
Through the door came a trio of young women, clad in filmy white, two carrying lanterns shining with a soft pale light, the tallest playing a little harp that echoed a strange, sweet music. As they drew nearer, Sirius recognized them as veela. Up close, their resemblance to Narcissa unnerved him, as if he faced herwas facing her, refracted through some sort of distorted mirror. Like her, they were all tall and pale and slender, with waterfalling silver-white hair and upturned blue-gray eyes. They paused, their silver robes swirling around their slender bodies, and giggled to each other.
'Quel homme attirant. Que devrions-nous faire avec lui?' smirked the first.
'Je pense que nous devrions le manger,' purred the second.
They advanced towards him en masse, smiling, and Sirius began backing away. He did not like the looks on their faces, nor the cruel, cold smiles on their red mouths, or the way the one on the left was hungrily licking her lips as she looked at him. He had absolutely no idea what they had just been saying, but was quite certain it wasn ?t good.
Suddenly another female voice cut into the scene, this one oddly familiar. 'Shoo! Shoo! Get away from 'im! Leave 'im alone, you bunch of tarts!'
Sirius turned, and stared. Standing in front of him, barefoot and wearing a white nightgown, was Fleur Delacour. Her hands were jammed firmly on her hips and she looked furious. She had stretched one hand outstretched out imperiously, and to Siriussurprise, the veela cowered back away from her.
Then he remembered. It was no wonder they were afraid of her. She was Slytherins Source.
The tallest veela bared her teeth, and said in a wheedling voice.
'Fleur….pourquoi est-ce que tu ne nous laisses pas seuls et nous laisses avoir notre amusement?'
'Parce que je le dise!' barked Fleur, imperiously tapping her foot.
'Because I say so! Now go!'
With a few parting hisses and some baring of teeth, the veela turned and vanished off down the corridor as if pursued by Furies. Fleur watched them go, looking a bit like a Fury herself. Her silver hair was crackling around her head like charmed tinsel, and Sirius was reminded that she was a Magid, and her anger was a powerful weapon indeed.
He took a step back, and her gaze flicked over to him. 'Are you all right?' she asked, her tone melting into sympathy. 'My cousins, they get…a little overexcited.'
Sirius nodded, mind whirling.
