Imogen a Harry Potter taleChapter 62
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Imogen: A Harry Potter TaleChapter 40 free porn video
"All set to go?" asked Harry. Hermione nodded as she drank the last of her coffee. The Weasleys at the Gryffindor table indicated their assent as Harry looked around him. Harry rose, and accompanied by Ginny, headed out of the Great Hall. Ron and Hermione followed a few minutes later. The rest (Imogen, Neville, the Weasley twins and Angelina) headed out in ones and twos at short intervals, their departure unnoticed in the usual morning bustle. Some went directly outdoors, having brought their winter clothing with them. Others went back to the common room to get their coats, and properly dressed, stepped out the school's main doors and into the sharp winter cold. The sky was cloudless, and the sun, having cleared the low mountains to the east, glared with unusual force, its power greatly enhanced by the reflection of its rays off the snow blanketing the grounds.
Imogen and Neville stepped off the path and trudged through the snow towards the forest. They were careful to follow the exact path taken by those who had preceded them, so that the track left in the snow would not betray the number of students heading into the forest that morning.
"Rather cold, isn't it?" remarked Neville. In fact he was freezing, the day the coldest he could remember for some time. He had spent some time looking unsuccessfully for his hat, and as a result he and Imogen had been the last to leave the school. His feet were numb inside his boots. A gust of wind seemed to go right through him and he pulled his coat tighter and thrust his hands into his pockets.
"I suppose so," said Imogen.
"You suppose so?" said Neville. "It's bloody freezing! How can you not be cold? You're not even wearing a proper coat like I am. You should be way colder." This was true. Imogen was wearing a winter hat (or 'toque", as she called it), a scarf and mittens. But instead of a winter coat, she had on only a jacket.
"But what are you wearing under your coat," asked Imogen.
"A shirt - what else do you think I'd wear?"
"Well, I'm wearing a shirt, a long-sleeved shirt on top of it, and two rather thin sweaters, as well as my jacket. I'm also wearing two pairs of pants and two pairs of socks. Yes, you've got a decent enough coat, but that's only one layer. It's the number of layers that counts. No wonder you're freezing. Do you want to go back and get properly dressed?"
"I wasn't complaining," said Neville, not wanting to look weak. "I was just mentioning what a cold day it was, that's all." Imogen thought Neville would be more credible if his lips weren't turning blue.
"Once we're there, we'll be plenty warm enough," said Imogen.
"True," said Neville, laughing. There was no doubt that the Fiendfyre curse would provide plenty of heat for everyone. He picked up the pace to keep even with Imogen, and together they entered the Forbidden Forest.
"How far in do we have to go?" asked Imogen.
"We'll have to walk about a quarter of an hour," replied Neville. Imogen had been present when Harry gave them all directions, but of course Imogen, with her perverse sense of direction, was lost within seconds of entering the forest. The tracks in the snow might not be an entirely reliable guide, given that others came into the forest from time to time, and Imogen had to rely completely on Neville to take them to their destination.
"I don't see what's so scary about this place," said Imogen. "Looks like any other forest I've ever seen."
"You'd think differently if it were night," replied Neville. And indeed, the atmosphere of the forest was not nearly as foreboding in winter. The trees were bereft of leaves, their bare branches doing little to block the sun's glare. The evergreens still cast shadows, but the sun would have to set before the forest recovered its aura of gloomy menace. The two friends walked on, and ceased conversation entirely once they were a hundred paces into the woods, their ears listening keenly to the sounds of the forest: a deep stream, not yet frozen by the cold snap, burbling quietly; birds protesting the invasion of their territory; the occasional rustle in the undergrowth of an unseen creature. And after a time, the sounds of conversation: their Gryffindor friends up ahead.
"Neville!" cried Ron, "How good of you to join us! No need to rush, though. Take your time. After all, we're not doing anything important. Just killing a bit of Voldemort, that's all -"
"Shut up, Ron!" said Hermione in a quieter tone. "You don't have to advertise what we're about." Ron looked down, embarrassed. "Sorry."
The group was in a clearing. The stream was below them and out of view, its noise muted. Next to them the ground rose in a steep incline, and a few feet above them was the location they sought: a small cave. While Harry had been visiting Grindelwald, Ron and his brothers had looked through the forest for a suitable place to use the Fiendfyre curse. The twins felt reasonably confident they would be able to control the blaze once it started, but they could not be certain. Fiendfyre burned with a malevolent ambition, seeking out additional fuel as well as nearby targets to attack. Unchecked, it would rage until there was nothing left to burn. The cave was about the best place possible in which use the curse. It was barely large enough to hold two people. Ron and his brothers had started a conventional fire in the cave the previous day, burning the leaves, branches and roots inside in the hope that the Fiendfyre would have nothing with which to feed itself. The Weasley brothers had also cleared the area outside the cave of all undergrowth, so that if a flame did escape, it would not readily find anything to consume. And in case the fire proved inextinguishable, as a last resort they had dug a ledge next to the cave, on which rested a large boulder. In a pinch, Fred and George planned to levitate the boulder over the mouth of the cave, sealing it utterly until a professor's help could be sought. But this would truly be a last resort, for they all wanted the operation to be carried out in as much secrecy as possible. Only select members of Gryffindor house knew what was to take place today; Cho, Marietta, Ernie had deliberately been excluded. Harry was not sure why he had not included the non-Gryffindor members of his group in the day's activity, but some instinct had prompted him, and he had thought best to obey it. Harry would have been willing to ask Luna to come, but she had been very ill for the last few days, and so it was no slur on her to leave her out.
Angelina had begged for the honour of carrying the Ravenclaw diadem into the Forbidden Forest, and now she pulled the horcrux from her bag with a flourish.
"And now for the main event," she said, but in quiet tones so that she would not receive the same reproach as had Ron, "I present to you a piece of Voldemort's soul. But before we burn it, I wonder whether our junior member, dearest Ginny, wants to wear it one more time. It did look very good on her when she modeled it for us."
"No thanks," said Ginny. "But at the next Dueling Club meeting, let's pair up and I'll show you just how junior I am."
"Enough fooling around," said Harry. "Down to business. " He took the diadem from Angelina, and climbed a few steps up the slope, entering the small cave. The cave's ceiling was low, and Harry entered on his hands and knees, the cool, damp earth blackening him wherever he made contact with the cave's floor. Ron had earlier placed a small metal platform at the back of the cave, and on this Harry laid the horcrux to rest. Harry crawled backwards and exited the cave, and then stepped carefully down the slope to where his friends awaited him.
"This could get out of hand," said Harry. "I'd like all of you to walk down the path and wait at the stream. Leave this part to Fred, George and me." Protests from the gathering greeted this remark. What were they there for, then, if not to witness the proceeding? Were they useless? How could they fight Voldemort, if it was too dangerous for them? Perhaps they should head home now, and leave Harry and the twins to themselves.
"Alright, alright," said Harry. "Fine. Just don't get to close. Fred, George: show us what you can do."
Wands drawn, the twins stepped forward from the group, climbed the slope and then stood at each side of the entrance to the cave. Earlier they had drawn lots, and Fred had won the honour of using the curse, for they both agreed that it would not be a good idea for the two of them to pronounce the Fiendfyre curse; the curse was hard enough to control when just one person used it. Fred and George exchanged nods, and then:
"Fiendfyre!"
Instantly the cave's darkness was replaced by the glare of fierce flames burning at the back of the cave, the red glow accompanied by the low roaring sound of a blast furnace. After a few seconds, a thin, high keening was heard over the roar, rising in pitch and volume until Fred and George had to cover their ears. Suddenly the keening stopped, and the flame took this as its cue to rush the entrance.
"Ceosel!" shouted George, pointing his wand, Fred pronouncing the same charm a fraction of a second later. Now the flames had to compete with a spray of fine sand from the twin's wands. At first the sand had no visible effect. But soon it was apparent that the Fiendfyre was being held at bay, and within a minute, was being forced to retreat. The twins continued with the extinguishing charm they'd learned from Flitwick earlier that week, until the cave was half-full of sand and there was no trace of flame left. Fred and George would have dearly liked to have waited a while before using the charm, for Fiendfyre, if left to itself long enough, assumed evil, fantastic shapes that surely would be most interesting to see. But Flitwick had been very explicit. The extinguishing charm was useless unless employed early, before the flame had a chance to reach anything like its full potential.
"Enough!" said Harry. "Now let's remove the sand. We need to see what's left."
Fred and George were equal to Harry's request, and in a trice had all but emptied the cave, leaving only a small pile of sand in the back under which the remains of the diadem still rested. That is, if the fire had left any remains. Imogen wondered how keen she would have been if it had been her job to examine a possibly destroyed Horcrux in a dark cave. But Harry showed no hesitation at all, and once more got on his hands and knees and entered the cave. He was inside somewhat longer this time. So long, in fact, that some began to get worried.
"Are you alright?" called Ginny.
"Fine!" said Harry. He emerged a moment later with a twisted object in his hand.
"I had to cool it down with the Aguamenti charm. It's safe to handle now, though," he added, tossing the diadem to Fred.
George went to Fred's side, eager to examine the remains. The diadem was now a blackened, bent object, its surface blistered. It was flattened in places, as if it had been struck on an anvil by a most powerful hammer blow. Here and there were holes, as if an acid had burned its way through. Or perhaps burned its way out from the inside. George returned the diadem to Harry.
"You might as well keep it," said George. "A souvenir."
Harry took the object, and then addressed the group.
"We'll leave the same way we came, in the same groups, in the same order and at ten-minute intervals. Before you leave the edge of the forest, make sure that the group in front of you has entered the castle." And with that, he took Ginny's hand, and the two of them began to walk down the path.
Twenty minutes later Angelina left in the company of Fred and George, leaving Imogen and Neville alone in the forest, warmed by a small fire. Neville hoped that when they emerged from the forest, they would find that the wind had dropped, or that the rising sun had warmed things up a bit. Deep in the forest they were sheltered from the wind, and Neville found it interesting that for the moment, he preferred the Forbidden Forest to the school grounds. He remarked as much to Imogen.
"Like I said coming in, it is hard to believe this place is supposed to be so scary," she replied. "Maybe we should come back here in the evening, either with Harry's cloak or with some Asturias potion. It would be fun to see it at night."
Neville grunted noncommittally. Invisibility had its limitations. There were creature that hunted by sound and smell, and against them Harry's cloak would not be of much help. But there was no need for him to admonish Imogen, for she was already beginning to regret her words. She stood upright, listening with great attention. She was conscious of a sound, at no great distance. She realized now she had been hearing it for some time, but it had not registered on her consciousness. But now it was closer, and unnatural. It was not a sound of a forest creature, but something else entirely. Neville heard it too, and standing, said that it was time to go.
"As in immediately," he added, taking Imogen's arm. "But make as little noise as you can. Whatever it is may not have heard us yet." But they had hardly begun their journey home when suddenly the trail in front of them was blocked by a pair of pillars. Imogen came to a halt, Neville bumping into her from behind. The two looked at the twin pillars before them, and then looked up. The pillars were attached to a torso. A sixteen-foot giant stared down at them.
"Grawp!" cried Imogen in terror.
"What?" replied Neville.
"Just run!" screamed Imogen, and grabbing Neville, turned and ran for her life. But Neville's reputation for clumsiness was well-earned, and immediately the boy tripped and fell flat on his face. Imogen whirled at the sound of his fall, and saw the giant advancing on the two of them. She had never thought to tell her Gryffindor friends about Hagrid's half-brother giant living in the forest. In her view, the giant was Hagrid's secret to tell, and if he had not decided to mention anything, then she would keep silent. In the "books" embedded in Imogen's mind, Hagrid had felt compelled to tell Harry, Ron and Hermione about his half-brother. But things were different now. Hagrid was not, so far as Imogen knew, under any threat of dismissal by Umbridge. With his position secure, there was no reason for him to think he would be forced from Hogwarts, and no need to tell anyone how to take care of Grawp in his absence. Besides, Hagrid kept the giant tied up, and there was no need to warn her friends of the giant living deep in the forest, not even on an occasion when all of them were planning a trip into the vicinity. But Imogen had no time to waste regretting her decision. She raised her wand, and tried the spell that had served her so well before.
"Stupify!" A fierce jet of red shot from Imogen's wand, striking the giant full in the face. The blast was, if anything, even more powerful than the one with which Imogen had killed her assailant in the Gryffindor dormitory. Grawp's only reaction was to blink in surprise, and then scream in rage. Only then did Imogen remember that stunning spells were not particularly effective when used on giants. But in the brief interval the spell had gained them, Neville had risen to his feet, and once more he and Imogen were on the run, heading for the small cave. If only they could reach it, they would be completely safe. Imogen was in the lead, and almost made it. She was just beginning to climb in, surprised at how fast she could crawl when motivated, when she heard Neville's cry. She backed out swiftly, and saw that Grawp had lifted the boy with one hand. Neville waved his wand wildly, accidentally poking the giant in the eye. Grawp half released, half threw Neville, who landed with some force near the stream, his fall partially broken by a snow bank. He did not rise.
Imogen hit Grawp with an impedementia jinx as the giant began to advance on Neville's motionless form. Grawp slowed, but did not fall. He did, however, change targets, giving up on Neville and concentrating instead on Imogen. Even partially impeded, the giant was about the same speed as Imogen, and was not far behind her as she ran from him in terror. There was no time to turn and fire another curse, for if she missed or the spell proved ineffective, Grawp would be on her. And so she ran and ran, ever deeper into the Forbidden Forest, praying that she would find some place in which she could seek shelter. Grawp was slowed when he struck his head heavily against what was for him a low-hanging branch. After that, he ran with a bit more caution, and Imogen was able to maintain some distance from her pursuer. It helped that she was young and in good shape. Grawp too was young, but he had spent much of the last few months tied to a stake, and was not in the best of condition. But slowly, inexorably, the gap began to close as Imogen tired. She had been running at her utmost for what seemed like forever, and she was reaching the limit of her strength. Ahead of her Imogen saw that the path curved sharply, and that to the right the ground dropped sharply again towards the stream. The vegetation along the water's edge was thick, the growth very high. It was her only chance, and she took it, throwing herself off the path just as Grawp, now in range, reached down to grab her. She sailed through the air and landed in the snow-covered reeds at the water's edge. She crawled mindlessly for a fallen tree, the remains of a great oak that had fallen after its core had been eaten away. She slipped inside as she heard the giant coming down the bank in search of her, and she waited in silence, struggling not to breath too loudly, and would have stilled her heavily-beating heart if she had known how.
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