Chapter Thirty-Six
"Drafted Plans"

Page One

"Where is he?" Pettigrew was pacing the gargoyle hall, twiddling his thumbs behind his back. "He should have been here ages ago… our moon could fade if he doesn't get this over with quickly."

"Calm down, Peter," snapped Malfoy, sitting at the base of a short, bulbous stone gargoyle. "He'll be here when it's convenient for him and not a moment sooner."

"But…" Pettigrew's voice trailed off as he looked up at the statue of his master at the end of the hall. It was so majestic, he thought. So prepared for any event, ready to conquer, just biding his time… biding too long, for his taste. It was worrying him.

"I'm going to look for him," he said finally, turning to Malfoy.

"Fine," muttered Malfoy in reply. "But I won't be responsible if he turns you into a rat permanently."

"Fine," retorted Pettigrew, "and I won't share the glory if I save him from…"

"From what?"

"From who knows what!" Pettigrew stomped off around the large statue of Voldemort holding his opal-topped staff. Just behind the massive creation was a small door, hidden by the wooden paneling. Pettigrew tapped on the door twice with his wand, muttering, "Alohomora." It clicked open, but it proved to be so small Pettigrew just barely fit through.

"Have fun saving your Lord," taunted Malfoy from the other side of the statue. "Thanks for leaving me with the dirty work… don't be surprised when I'm not here when you get back."

Pettigrew, ignoring Malfoy's pessimism, entered a very low, narrow stone corridor, completely devoid of light except for a small pinprick of yellow light in the distance. He hurried along, worrying for his master's well-being… and hoping to arrive in the knick-of-time. In moments like these, he thought, time is of the essence and the element of surprise cannot be wasted.

He reached the light at the end of the tunnel, but was not met with a harrowing battle scene. Instead he stared straight at his master's back. He was hunched over, his arms holding tightly onto something in front of him.

"Master…" he squeaked, edging along the wall so he could see Lord Voldemort's profile. He gasped when he saw Minerva McGonagall, her face clasped in his hands, her eyes closed tightly. Voldemort was in deep concentration, molding her memories.

Suddenly, Lord Voldemort's eyes opened, his fingers released and McGonagall slumped to the floor like a rag doll forgotten by a busy child. Voldemort's head snapped to the side, his eyes staring straight at Pettigrew.

"What is it?" he barked, his eyes flashing a piercing shade of red.

"I… I…" Pettigrew tried desperately to pull himself together. "I… I've collected the giant and the two children."

"Good…" Voldemort's shoulders loosened as a trickle of sweat dripped down Pettigrew's forehead. "Is Malfoy with you?"

Pettigrew nodded his head quickly, his eyes glancing down at McGonagall who lay in a heap at Voldemort's feet.

"Shall I help you with the woman-"

"No!" yelled Voldemort, interrupting Pettigrew so sharply it made the small man jump. "Leave her be. Go back to the Hall and wait! The others will be joining you shortly."

"The others?" Pettigrew was thoroughly bewildered. The poor woman… she looked so strained…

"The others," repeated Voldemort plainly, his tone softening slightly. "Black, the werewolf and the Potter boy."

Pettigrew flinched at the mention of Harry. His back tightened, his hands clenched into fists and his face turned straight for the floor. "But…" he managed to whisper, "I thought you said the werewolf would be dead…"

"Go!" roared Voldemort, pointing to the door from which Pettigrew had entered. Pettigrew turned, his head bowed and obeyed, leaving Voldemort alone in the large, elaborate hall, exiting through the painted flames.

Voldemort looked down at the woman who lay at his feet. He knelt down and picked her up into his arms, looking softly at her eyes.

"It's time," he whispered, stepping through the door hidden by the flames.

* * *

"Lights out in five minutes," ordered Madam Pomfrey over the heads of the students who were hurrying to claim sleeping bags. After everyone had been fed, Snape and Professor Flitwick organized the effort of getting everyone to sleep. The hour had grown increasingly late and not a single student had slept for at least twenty-two hours.

Places had been chosen and all were with their own house except for young Sophie. Draco had followed his orders to the best of his abilities and had adopted her as an impromptu younger sister.

Professor Flitwick made the final rounds, making sure everyone was tucked in safely. He gave the order to Madam Pomfrey from the Gryffindor corner of the room, but just as Madam Pomfrey raised her wand to quiet the candles, something flew overhead. A gigantic shadow was cast around the room through the enchanted ceiling. It passed so quickly none of them caught sight of what caused it. As all eyes were glued to the sky, the doors flew open. Madam Pomfrey, as well as quite a few of the students, screamed in shock.

"It's alright!" shouted a voice from the doorway. "It's only me!"

Fred and George perked up from their sleeping bags, their faces alight for the first time since Christmas. "Charlie!" they wailed, leaping up from their beds and running toward the doors.

A very wet red-haired Weasley stood at the door, wiping his forehead with a beige kerchief. His nose was running, one of his shoes was missing and his shirt was so dirty it was barely recognizable as a Romanian Animal Protection Services uniform.

Fred and George ran directly into their brother, throwing their arms around him. Caught completely off-guard, Charlie nearly tumbled into the group of men who had just arrived behind him, all wearing matching -- and just as dirty -- R.A.P.S uniforms. Madam Pomfrey, trying to catch her breath, was immensely relieved at the sight of at least a dozen able-bodied wizards standing in the entrance hall.

As the twins released Charlie from their death-grip hug, a man barreled past the troops of wizards and knocked right into Charlie.

"Weasley!" shouted the short man in a blue pinstripe suit. "I told you to keep with the group, not rush on ahead!"

"Calm down, Cornelius," barked Charlie.

"'Calm down'?" A vain in the short man's forehead was throbbing as his face grew intensely red. "I'm the last person you should be saying that to!"

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