Chapters 221-230

Unkissed

‘But Winky can always get to Master if Master needs her. Master would has no needs of sending young Miss to Spinner’s End.’ Winky scowled at Alina. Her wrinkled nose conveyed clearly that Alina’s very fishy story offended her delicate organ.

Woodstock chirped angrily at the elf and beat her wings into Alina’s face. ‘Hush, Woodstock!’ Frantically, Alina tried to transfer the agitated phoenix to her shoulder. Three deep scratches later, Alina stared down at Winky over crossed arms.

‘Look, if you’re so smart,’ she challenged the sulking elf. ‘Why don’t you go to your Master right now and ask him if he needs anything?’ Inspiration struck and she sucked in her breath sharply. ‘As matter of fact—Winky…And this is NO joke. Your Mistress needs you badly. RIGHT NOW. Go to Hermione and bring her here.’

‘Mistress wants to come here?’ Winky frowned.

‘Yes,’ Alina said with all the conviction she could muster. She’d never liked house-elves much. Creepy little spies. But if this worked, she’d devote her entire existence to improving their living conditions. ‘Hermione wants to come here. Badly. Really. Master will be very angry if you don’t go and fetch her. Right now.’

It was clear that Winky didn’t quite believe her. Nevertheless, with a decidedly huffy POP! Winky vanished. Alina clapped her hands over her mouth and hardly dared to breathe.

If Winky could get to Hermione…

A CRACK shattered the room.

A fraction of a second later, Winky appeared midair in front of Alina—about four feet higher than she’d started out. For second she hovered, shocked and surprised. Then the elf tumbled unceremoniously to the ground, ending in a dishevelled heap at Alina’s feet.

Alina’s shoulders slumped and she squatted next to Winky.

‘Are you all right?’ she asked gently, smoothing down the skirts of Winky’s rumpled uniform. She couldn’t help smiling, when she realised that the house-elf was dressed in a miniature version of a Victorian maid’s dress, down to the starched apron.

‘Oh, oh, oh,’ wailed Winky. ‘Can’t, can’t, can’t. Can’t fetch Mistress. Can’t reach Master. Oh, oh, oh. Poor Winky. Poor Master. Poor Mistress.’

Alina sighed. Well, she would have been very much surprised if house-elf magic extended into the Realm of Death. But trying to get Hermione back had been worth a shot.

That plan had failed. What did that mean? Alina frowned and tried to remember what she knew about house-elf Apparition.

Hermione was kept in a location that was not accessible even by the uncanny magic of house-elves. If Winky couldn’t get in, she rather guessed there was no way for Hermione to get out. Certainly not if she didn’t have wands. Just great.

‘But, Winky,’ Alina said, interrupting Winky’s muttered self-recriminations. ‘I think that—I—can help your Master.’

For a moment the living room was silent. Then Woodstock ruffled her feathers—a phoenix’ equivalent of flipping her thumb off at Winky. The house-elf sniffled hopefully. ‘Young Miss can help Master?’

Alina nodded. ‘I think so. Woodstock and I can help your Master. But I need to lie down somewhere. And…’ She drew a deep breath. Now for the awkward part. ‘Winky, you must not allow anyone to disturb me, unless I’m dead. No matter who comes knocking on the door or calls on the Floo, no matter if it’s the Minister of Magic, Headmistress McGonagall, the Pope or even my mother. You must NOT let them in. You must not let anyone touch me until you’re sure that I’m dead. All right? I’m—my…uh…my mind, my soul…that invisible part of me…is going where your Master is. But my body will remain here. And if you allow anyone to touch me that could kill the invisible me and your Master if we’re very unlucky. Do you understand? Don’t let anyone in, don’t let anyone touch me until my body is really, really dead.’

I’ll be only 13 and really, really dead, Alina thought miserably. That’s too young for ending up dead. I haven’t even been kissed by a boy yet! Worse, I haven’t even met a boy yet I’d like to kiss.

She inhaled deeply and squared her shoulders, fixing Winky with her best Potions Master’s glare. ‘Well? Are you going to help your Master?’

Winky sat up and primly straightened her skirts. She met Alina’s gaze, her round eyes suddenly determined. ‘Yes,’ the house-elf chirped. ‘Winky is.’ She gulped and her ears twitched. ‘I will. Young Miss can depend on me.’

oooOooo

‘He’ll be back, won’t he?’ Harry croaked, as they stood and stared in the direction of the Sixth Gate, where the blackened form of Voldemort had disappeared.

Severus couldn’t speak. He just nodded wearily, leaning onto Harry for support.

Although the river was shallow in the Sixth Precinct, the water was icy. It numbed the skin, froze the limbs. By now he was so cold that he’d stopped shivering. Not a good sign. He tried to concentrate on Hermione, tried to recall Death’s promise that she was still alive…

But his mind was empty with exhaustion.

He clenched his teeth and lurched forwards, to the next Gate. Next to him, Harry used the famed sword of Godric Gryffindor as a convenient crutch.

As they approached the sinkhole that led from the Sixth Precinct to the Fifth Gate, Severus tried to summon his last reserves of physical and magical strength. But he was more stumbling than walking, and how he’d be able to keep up the focus that would create a safe bridge over the deep waters of the Fifth Precinct was beyond him.

‘We won’t make it,’ Harry remarked suddenly, his tone light, conversational. As if he was talking about the weather.

Severus stopped walking. He swayed on his feet and to his acute embarrassment, he couldn’t help leaning on Harry once more. ‘Wait and see, Potter,’ he ground out.

But deep in his heart, he feared that Harry was right.