Her eyebrows drew together. 'I 'ave seen you before,' she said. 'I know you. You are a friend of Professor Lupin. I saw you in his office, you were in the fireplace.'
Sirius nodded. 'I?m Sirius Black.'
'The professor…is he all right?' said Fleur, widening her dark blue eyes. 'Is 'e 'ere?'
'Hes 'ere…I mean here…hes with the other werewolves,' said Sirius, not one to pass up an opportunity for extra information. He knew from Harry what Fleur had done, but also knew from Draco that there was more to the story. He tended to believe that she sincerely wished to make up for her mistake. Also, she seemed so weak she hardly posed a threat. 'Can you lead me there?'
She nodded slowly. 'I can. It is down this 'all, as a matter of fact.
You were not far off.' She looked up and down the corridor with weary trepidation. 'If 'e catches me…'
'I?ll say that I threatened you,' said Sirius, with more confidence than he felt. 'They think I?m a big bad vampire, 'round here.'
Fleur nodded slowly, as if she was too tired to ask more, and led the way down the hall. It turned out to be a short distance to the iron-bound door he remembered; Fleur rapped upon it once, then pushed it open, letting Sirius walk in ahead of her. She came after him, shutting the door firmly behind her.
* * * * *
Draco, with Ron right beside him, raced to the edge of the black hole in the flagstone floor into which Harry and Hermione had vanished, and peered down into it.
He saw a void of blackness narrowing down and down into nothing, with a faint glimmer of light at the end that might have been daylight, or might have been a reflection off water. 'Harry!' he yelled, his voice bouncing off the sides of the hole. 'Hermione!'
Ron added his voice to Dracos. 'Hermione! Harry!'
A very faint, echoing shout answered them. Draco listened as hard as he could, but wasn?t sure whether it was in fact an answer, or merely an echo of their own voices. He glanced sideways at Ron, who was as white as his shirt. 'How did you know?' he hissed. 'That it was a trap?'
Ron shook his head. 'I just did,' he said, his voice flat and dead.
Draco felt a sudden, sharp tingle in the scar on his palm. He glanced down at his hand just as Harrys voice spoke inside his head: Hey, Malfoy. You up there?
Yeah. Dracos shoulders sagged with relief. Hermione and you both all right?
We?re fine. Waist-deep in water, but fine. Ron…?
Didn?t even lose a freckle.
Tell him we?re okay.
Draco glanced over at Ron, and nodded curtly, once. 'They?re all right.'
Ron looked at him narrowly. 'How do you know?' Then he shook his head. 'Never mind. I think I can guess.'
How did he know that it was a trap? came Harrys voice again, bemused and astonished. Ron, I mean.
Draco shrugged. I don?t know. He says he just did.
There was a short silence, then Harry spoke again. Hermione says hes a Diviner.
'You?re a Diviner?' said Draco to Ron, incredulously. He knew from his father how very rare Diviners always had been, and how sought after their skills were. That Professor Trelawney, who had only a hint of Divining power, had managed to secure and maintain a professorial position at Hogwarts on the strength of her minor talent, bespoke how rare the gift was.
The redheaded boy looked defensive. 'I guess so.'
'Looks like you?ve got a trumpet to blow after all, Weasley,' said Draco with a grudging amount of respect. 'And you saved me from falling down that hole. Grabbed my arm. Rather a mysterious action on your part.'
'I was reaching for Harry,' said Ron, looking deeply disgusted. 'I was reaching for Harry, and I got you. Now how are we going to get them out of there?'
'Ropes,' said Draco, 'we need ropes, or cords, or something — '
'Hermione said no magic, though,' said Ron worriedly. 'Not inside the castle.'
'I know. Bugger.' Draco cast about for an idea, and his eye fell on the heavy tapestries adorning the walls. 'What about those,' he said slowly, jabbing a finger towards them. 'We could cut them up into thin strips and tie them together. Make a rope that way.'
Ron nodded, a little reluctantly. 'Very practical. You sure you?re not a Muggle?'
'Very funny.' Draco got to his feet. Hang in there, Potter. We?re going to try to lower a rope down to you.
Okay.
Draco grabbed the side of a tapestry depicting a herd of unicorns prancing in a summery meadow filled with brightly colored and clean scented flowers. It was terrifically incongruous amid the portraits and battle scenes that hung in the corridor, but nonetheless, he tugged at it; Ron joined him on the other side of the tapestry and tugged pulled there, too. A choking cloud of dust rose from the tapestry as they yanked at it, and Draco doubled over, coughing. When he straightened up again, he blinked the dust out of his eyes. Then froze, staring.
Advancing towards them from the far end of the hall were, three tall, slightly stooped, gray-swathed figures whose scabbed and rotting hands protruded from the sleeves of their robes. Before them rolled a wave of intense and glacial cold.
