Absolute Sorcery - hitman619 - Harry Potter (2024)

Chapter 1: Astral

Chapter Text

The Burrows –

The birthday celebrations were over, and the wedding was imminently on the horizon, everyone had gone to bed early for the following day’s sure-to-be tiring activities. Ron was snoring in his bed, which he had been doing for the last few hours now. The clock was ticking its way to twelve at midnight, his birthday was coming to an end.

A sudden sense of sadness washed over him. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was the fact that he was officially seventeen years of age and no longer a child. Which signified the tightening of the heavy responsibilities on his shoulders that he can now never shake away even if he wanted to. Or perhaps it was the fact that he, Ron and Hermione would be going against the strongest dark wizard in world history and his forces, all in an attempt to make Voldemort mortal again. Or it could be the fact that he missed his parents on his seventeenth birthday, more so than all his birthdays combined so far.

With worry, pain and tension, his mind ached, and he found himself drifting off slowly.

It only seemed like minutes ago he fell asleep. The new day had arrived, and he felt it, even in his semi-conscious sleep-addled state, he could feel the magic leaving him, from his skin, from a layer inside him, like invisible steam rushing out of all his pores. As the heat left him, his entire body felt that much colder.

It shivered him awake in a cold sweat.

Harry sat up in his bed and he immediately could tell that something was different, that something had changed, something monumental.

Everything seemed slower, it was jarring, maybe it was just his grogginess or maybe he was just imagining it. He shook his head to clear his mind. He needed a glass of water, he reached for the flask on the desk by his bed, but his fingers simply slipped through the handle of the flask as though it were intangible, as though it was just an illusion, or as if he was. He froze instantly.

His eyes widened in shock, ‘What’s going on?’ He mused to himself, but then something else clicked, he wasn’t wearing his glasses and yet he could see clearly. His eyesight was always poor when he had no glasses on.

Frantically looking around, he shivered when his eyes fell on his bed. He turned back and there it was, an image of him sleeping on the bed, he blinked once, twice, thrice and there was no change. He snapped his head and looked down at himself and realised that his hand was translucent. He could see through his own hands, see through his entire body as if he was made of glass. Realisation dawned on him; his form was ethereal.

He would have screamed his lungs out if he had any brainpower left to process it. Being used to confusion and panic albeit through countless mortally challenging situations, his sleep-addled mind relied on his instincts, which caused his mind to go to theories. Was he dead? Did he die in his sleep?

Before he could start freaking out more, a slender hand grabbed him by his arm, he looked confused for a moment realising how could someone grab something intangible. Until his eyes scrutinised the feminine hand which was just as translucent as his.

Fear gripped his heart as he followed the hand to a beautiful young woman with thick, dark red hair that fell to her shoulders, almond-shaped, bright green eyes standing in the dark. “Ginny?” He asked confused, ‘Was Ginny dead too?’ he wondered in panic. What happened? Were they attacked at night? That was until his eyes began noticing the differences, ‘Green eyes? Ginny doesn’t have green eyes. Those look like mine.’

“Hello, Harry,”

His furrowed brows relaxed as his eyebrows arched, he realised who it was that was standing before him, “Mum…” He whispered.

“Sweetheart, I’ve missed you.” The woman’s voice was like the sweetest of music to his ears, warm and caring, she engulfed him in the largest warmest hug he had ever experienced, one that far surpassed Mrs Weasley’s bear hugs.

He couldn’t feel warmth or the cold as a spirit. Even so, his magic unconsciously relished in it and he felt his heart soaring.

Emotions swirled within him; repressed emotions so powerful he couldn’t hold it in. Unchecked, it came spilling out. “Argh-aha-argh!” He buried his face into his mum’s neck and he bawled his eyes out like a child, not at all caring if he was dead.

He had no idea how long he cried. ‘Sniff – sniff –’ But sobbing his eyes out had felt so good, it felt so freeing.

He could never be vulnerable like that around Ron or Hermione; they would see him as weak. In their eyes, he couldn’t be weak. Moping and brooding, sure, but weak, he cannot be that.

What good was he, if he was weak? He had a duty to be strong, to lead his friends to hunt down the Horcruxes. He always had to put up a strong front, hold his deepest fears and anguish buried inside him, so that everyone else can lean on him for support. And he could never bring himself to lean on them emotionally.

But he felt his heart unwinding in his mother’s arms, feelings of regret and loss and grief overwhelming him until he couldn’t hold it in. And the relief that washed over him when he was done crying it all out was inexplicable. He didn’t feel weak, he was feeling lighter already, as though a heavy burden was unburdened.

That’s how he found himself standing alongside his mother, or rather gently floating above the ground alongside his mother in the bedroom to see the world around him. Everything was slower, he could tell. The way his sleeping body’s chest rose and fell as he breathed was ten times slower, a single breath took at least half a minute. Just as it did for Ron on the opposite side of the room.

“Don’t worry. It’s only jarring at first, you’ll quickly get used to it. It’s time. Time’s slower in this plane.” His mother supplied the information knowingly.

“This plane?” He asked curiously, “What is this place? Why are we like…this? How are you here, mum?”

“It’s a long story, sweetie, I’ll try to keep it short.” Lily said softly, “This is the astral plane. What we’re doing is called astral projection.”

“Astral…projection?” He asked sounding more confused than surprised.

“We’ve managed to separate our soul, our spiritual essence from our body and push it through the dimensions like apparating. However, our magic is still woven in between the body and soul like strings.” Lily Potter explained by crisscrossing her fingers, “As long as our physical body in the physical world remains unharmed and the source of magic is still available, we can stay here in the astral plane. But if the magic runs out or the body dies, our souls will be lost forever.”

Harry was seriously listening to his mother’s words and he asked, “If that’s the case, how come you’re here? How are you here, mum?”

“My sacrificial magic, Harry. That’s how I’m here. I’ve been with you for the last sixteen years. Now that you’ve reached the age of majority, your magic has stabilised. Since the trace on your wand is gone, my protection is no longer relevant since you’re now capable of protecting yourself. When midnight came and your birthday ended mere minutes ago, my magic started to dissipate. The blood protection is ending. Thankfully, I was able to pool together the last of my magic and pull myself into the astral plane one last time, and pull you along with me.”

Harry’s heart was thudding, or it would have been if he was in his body, “How long do you have, mum?”

“Not long.” Lily said softly, cupping both his cheeks within her hands, “Maybe just enough.”

“In the real world, my magic will be fully gone in a matter of minutes. But since time is many times slower here, it gives me an hour maybe two to talk to you.”

Harry took a deep breath and he calmed himself, ‘Hours. I have a few hours. Just a few damn hours. Talk to her, you idiot. Don’t waste a moment of it.’ He screamed to himself.

“The astral plane is an entirely spiritual dimension. The dimension isn’t parallelly connected to our world so that it fits within the flow of time, instead, it's tilted, perhaps even horizontally tied with our world. Magic is inherently imbued in the flow of time. If time flows in one direction, that is in our world. Here, the time slips and bends as it passes through our plane, like a river bending a rock. That diffraction of time slows the flow of time here. Hence, here in the astral plane, time is slower. Much slower.”

Even though he didn’t ask, mum explained it to him carefully. He didn’t even bother worrying about that.

“I have so many questions, mum. I’ve got so many things to say.” He said as he stood while his mum sat on his bed by his body’s leg.

“I know you do, sweetheart. We can talk,” Lily agreed softly, “But first, I need you to listen.”

Harry wasn’t going to waste his one chance to talk to his mum, so he sat next to her, on the legs of his own body on the bed where his body was still asleep. Being intangible and sitting was a confusing task. Sitting was no different than floating in the air, just felt like floating in a different body position.

“Okay, mum. Tell me.”

Lily looked thoughtful for a moment and then began, “The war is becoming worse. And I want you to make it out of this alive.”

“Without Dumbledore here to balance the power scale, it’s only a matter of time before the Ministry falls. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I know things are bad.”

“Good.” Lily smiled at her brave boy, “You’ll need funds and a secure location to operate from, to hunt down the rest of those Horcruxes.”

“You know about the Horcruxes?” He asked in mild shock.

“I’ve lived in you, honey. I’ve seen what you’ve seen, felt what you’ve felt and I’ve observed far more than you ever have.”

His eyes widened as he realised the implications. It meant that his mum had seen and felt what Vernon and Petunia did to him, all the things he’d never told anyone and he most likely will not. Afraid of people finding out and being ashamed of him.

As if she’d read his mind, Lily spoke, “What my sister and her husband did to you is not your fault, Harry. It’s my fault.”

“Your fault? Mum, it’s not your fault.”

Lily shook her head at that, “If I’d only specified that you’re not to be sent to live with Petunia in our last will and testament, then Dumbledore would’ve had no way to justify placing you there. You’d have grown up with Alice’s son under Augusta’s watchful eyes. So, it’s not your fault.”

Harry faked a smile, “It’s okay, mum. You couldn't have known.”

“No, it’s not!” She shot back fuming, "I should've known..."

“I’ll never forgive Petunia or Vernon for what they did.” She affirmed firmly, “And I want you to promise me that you’ll cut all ties with them. I don’t want you to ever see them or meet with them ever again. You need not be ashamed of what they did to you, and you need not try to live up to their opinions. Their opinions aren’t worth it sweetheart.”

“I know.” He whispered with a sad smile. He'd figured that out a long time ago, but he'd never had the confidence to fully accept it.

If anyone else had said this to him, he would have had trouble fully accepting it. Whether it be Hermione or Ron or Ginny. But hearing this from his mum was somehow different. His mum was Petunia’s sister, she understood them better than anyone, and hearing her tell him to let it go. It felt easy. It felt easy to simply forget the Dursleys, to condemn them coldly, knowing that no one would judge him for it, knowing that his parents won’t judge him for not taking the high road of forgiveness. If his mother wouldn’t forgive the Dursleys, why should he? A strange sense of relief washed over him and he liked the ensuing feeling of freedom.

“Are you alright, honey?”

“Yeah,” He smiled with a nod.

“Good. Also, the next time you see Severus, I want you to hex him until he can’t walk anymore.”

That got him confused, “Snape?”

“Yes! He was the one who told You-Know-Who about the bloody prophecy!” His mum erupted, “You know, Albus was quite tight-lipped when we asked him about how you-know-who found out.” She narrowed her eyes at him, "We deserved to know who it was that placed us at risk and forced us to go into hiding."

“There’s no way Severus didn’t know what the prophecy meant, or who it meant, before he told you-know-who about it. Severus was always smart. And it was no secret within the Death Eater ranks that the Bones, Longbottoms and our family had managed to evade the dark lord 'thrice'. That was one of the reasons Bellatrix was quite keen on hunting us down even before we went into hiding.”

That quickly reminded him about that little titbit he had forgotten. He had no love for Snape, especially after what happened to Dumbledore, so he had no trouble accepting that request.

“Ok, mum.”

“Good. Now let’s talk about our current problem.” She asked and he nodded before giving her an attentive look.

“You’ll need funds and a place to stay.”

He knew that he cannot operate out of the Burrows without involving the Order, and the lesser the people know about the Horcruxes, the lesser the chance of discovery. It will do well if Voldemort never found out what exactly they were hunting, lesser chance of Voldemort retrieving them and hiding them elsewhere. They had already planned on leaving after the wedding.

“I was thinkin-”

She interrupted him, “As soon as possible, I want you to go to Gringotts and empty the family vault, every Galleon, sickle and knut. It doesn’t matter, empty it. Convert half the galleons into pounds and keep it with you at all times.”

“I was thinking that... But why convert it to muggle money, mum?”

Lily replied seriously, “It’s better to be prepared. You’ll never know when you might need it.”

“I suppose that’s true.” He muttered with a frown.

“Now, when I said as soon as possible, I meant possibly ‘tonight’. Do you understand?” Lily asked in a serious tone.

“Tonight? Mum, I understand that things are bad, but why the hurry?” He asked confusedly.

“Things are much worse than you think. That’s why. I don’t think you have any time to waste.” Lily warned with a faraway look.

“What do you mean?”

“James and I lived during the war. We fought them, the Death Eaters the first time around.” Lily pursed her lips and grimaced, “During the peak of the last war, if four or five Death Eaters gathered out in a muggle space anywhere in the country, Ministry would immediately track the gathering of magical presence and send an Auror force to check it. The Aurors were allowed to detain without asking questions, make arrests without cause, and even use lethal force in a battle if necessary. Even so…, you-know-who nearly took over control!”

“If hundreds of wizards can easily circle Little Whinging without the Ministry even taking notice, then things are much, much worse than you think. Think of the comparison. Think of how serious the situation is. You have to assume that the Ministry’s been infiltrated at the highest possible level. You have absolutely no time to waste here. Do you understand?”

Harry digested the news and he nodded in agreement, “I understand, mum. I’ll go tonight if possible.”

“See that you do.” Lily said calculatingly, “Now, you also need to go to the Ancestral Potter home.”

“Ancestral home?” He repeated slightly amused.

His mum frowned at that which made him curious, “The Potter Estate, the seat of House Potter. Greenwell Mansion. It’s in Durham – I can’t say anymore. The Eternal Fidelius protection must still be active around the estate. Its magic is preventing me from saying the exact location out loud and I can’t exactly write you the address.”

“But don’t worry, your grandparents had two elves, Flitty and Nitsy. If they’re still alive, they will respond to your call. They can apparate you into the estate if need be. But if they’re not alive, then you’ll have to search for clues to find out the address. The address is bound to be somewhere, but it will be hidden under magic so that no one can stumble across it by accident, even the goblins will not know. The Eternal Fidelius is part of the wards and it’s keyed to the old magic of House Potter, it will prevent everyone from finding the location, except you. As the last Potter, I’d assume that only you can find it. Do you understand?”

Harry gulped a little and nodded confusedly, “Mum, if there was a mansion, why didn’t anyone say anything?”

Lily shook her head, “Isn’t it obvious? The Fidelius. Nobody aside from the last secret-keepers can remember its location; most wizards and witches would have even forgotten its very existence. When you-know-who started hunting us, your grandparents went into hiding just like us. I can only remember it because James and I became the secret keepers after your grandparents passed away, but even I cannot reveal anything that would compromise the safety of the estate, not even to you.”

“I understand, mum.”

Lily paused for a moment before she spoke, “Also when you go to Gringotts, ask to meet with the goblin in charge of House Potter and goblin in charge of the Black family accounts. There’s bound to be one.”

Harry tilted his head in confusion, “Why?”

“Harry, you need to read our will. The goblins can get you our will, they’ll have a copy, once you’ve read our will, that’ll allow you to legally claim the Potter family seat. And you didn’t know Sirius as James and I did. He and your father were brothers in everything but blood. They were pranksters, not as a hobby, but at heart. Sirius still holds the record for the most detentions in Hogwarts history in recent memory. If he left everything to you in his will, I’m sure he left something in it specifically for you to find.”

He held up his hands and gestured, “Wait a minute. Are you telling me that Sirius left behind some…secret message – for me?”

Lily shook her head unsurely, “I don’t know. I’m only guessing, but knowing Sirius and his childish fox brain, it’s possible. The fact that Dumbledore didn’t allow you to sit for the Will reading at least implies as much, or at the very least Dumbledore must have feared something in it.”

Harry shook his head a few times to try and see if what he heard was right. Seeing his mother’s unhesitant gaze, he slowly asked, “Why would Dumbledore be afraid of Sirius’s Will?”

“Sweetheart, things are not as black and white as you think they are. The fact that you still haven’t noticed is troubling as it is…” Lily warned softly with concern in her tone, “I know Dumbledore was working against You-Know-Who, but I don’t think I can approve of his methods.”

“What do you mean?” Harry's voice was now shaking, there was a certain sense of alarm in it.

“Think, Harry…” Lily admonished softly, “You heard the prophecy. From the moment the Dark Lord marked you as his equal, it was always going to be between you and him. Placing you with my sister, ignoring your existence until Hogwarts and then ignoring the obvious signs of abuse. I can rationalise many things, perhaps even agree why Dumbledore didn’t train you until your fourth year, but once the Dark Lord was back, he had every reason to train you and yet he didn’t. I just can’t see the sense in it.”

“Sparing you the burden of the prophecy seems like a terrible excuse than anything else. If he was too busy to train you, then he could have asked less busy members of the Order to train you. Moody or Vance, they’ve trained Aurors before, they could have certainly trained you. And if the school was the obstacle, then he could have easily asked Filius or Minerva to teach you. If nothing else, even Sirius and Remus could have helped, but you were left in the dark without skills that you sorely need.” Lily paused for a long moment before she divulged, “That’s suspicious.”

He shook his head in slight disagreement and groused, “I’ve wondered the same thing mum, but Dumbledore must have had his reasons. I’m sure there’s a rational explanation.”

Lily gave a sad grimace as she gave a nod, “There is…one.”

“There is?” That got his attention, “You know?” He asked incredulously.

Lily quietly turned towards his sleeping physical body and she grazed her pale ghostly hand against his z-shaped scar on his right forehead. As soon as the intangible hand grazed over his skin, the scar began glowing in a deep shade of red. Not in a way that illuminated the room, but subtler, yet the red glow was visible in the darkness.

Harry stared at the scar with his mouth hanging open, “W-why is it…?” ‘Glowing’ he swallowed nervously, but his mum answered before he could finish.

Lily sighed sadly, “The dark magic in the Horcrux is automatically responding against my protective magic.”

Harry slowly spanned his head to his mum, his eyes wide and he felt colder than ever before. “No…” He whispered in disbelief as he shook his head, “No, no, no…!”

Some time had passed away. He was leaning his head against his mum’s shoulder in the silence of the room, leaning for emotional support. The two souls of the two people who were family. He couldn’t help but wonder how many childhood moments like this was robbed from him. It felt so unfair.

The realisation of the Horcrux in his scar led to many hidden truths. But none of it hurt more than Dumbledore’s part in it. He had grieved that man, he still did. However, after hearing everything his mum had to say about Dumbledore’s methods, he couldn’t deny it anymore.

“Dumbledore never intended for me to live past the war, did he?” He asked in a monotone.

Lily shook her head, “I don’t think he did.”

“As skilled as you are in defensive magic, you’re no match for the Dark Lord. James and I have fought him in the past, three times we evaded him. Your father was trained by Moody, and I trained under Filius himself. Sirius, James, Marlene, Remus, Alice, Frank and me, we were one of the better duellists in the Order next only to the Senior members. And even together, we could barely hold our own against him. And by the looks of it, I’m sure You-Know-Who has only grown much stronger since his resurrection.” Lily said but her voice contained within it a certain controlled panic.

“That monster has somehow figured out how to perform the advanced unaided magical flight. A legendary feat of pure genius. He has succeeded where centuries of wizards and witches have failed. You saw his duel with Dumbledore. Can you imagine going toe to toe with that – thing?”

His mother’s words were like a knife that cut deep, “No. I can’t imagine fighting him and winning.” He muttered to himself, “I’ve known that for a while now.”

“If anyone could have made you into a genuine threat to the Dark Lord, it was Dumbledore. Albus had the means, the incentive, the time and the opportunity to do so. The fact that he didn’t make use of any of that, to train you or to properly prepare you, speaks loads about his intentions.”

He did his best to digest the revelation. His throat was dry, it was like swallowing a block of hot metal, he couldn’t do it, it was too painful to try. Even his mother had agreed that he wouldn’t survive in a battle against Voldemort, which was sobering. Dumbledore must have known about his inability to defeat Voldemort, and add that to the knowledge of the Horcrux in his head. It made sense. If he was destined to die, then why bother training him.

His mind wandered a little as he recalled the conversation, he had with Dumbledore in his second year, right after the whole slog with Ginny, the diary, Basilisk and Riddle. He remembered how Dumbledore claimed that Voldemort had unintentionally transferred some of his prowess to him when explaining his Parseltongue. He knew, even back then he must have known. The evidence of sabotage was damning.

“What should I do, mum?” He asked for help because he needed help. And he knew his mother could help him, she was after all a brilliant witch.

Lily cupped his cheeks with her hands, “Before we get to that, I want you to promise me that you’ll find a way to get rid of the Horcrux in you and live. Promise me.”

He hesitantly gave a nod, “I’ll try my best, mum.”

“Not good enough,” Lily vehemently shook her head, “You have to promise me.”

“I don’t know, mum. I’ll try-”

At his hesitance, she insisted firmly, “Promise me!”

Harry took a deep breath and hesitantly relented, “I promise. I’ll find a way.”

“Good.” She kissed his forehead, “I want you to survive this war. Live a happy life. Have a lot of children, grandchildren and more…” She shook her head at his shy flush on his cheeks at the mention of children.

A few minutes of comfortable silence passed between them. He needed it. This was the first time in his life, he felt unconditionally loved. He knew that Sirius loved him, but Sirius had a hard time showing it, and he didn’t blame his godfather for that, the man had spent a decade with the company of Dementors, the fact that he was even sane spoke volumes. Expecting more from Sirius beyond that was not fair. Was he happy about it? No. But was he angry? No, he wasn’t.

After a few moments, Lily stood up and paced the length of the bedroom, “You need to go to Gringotts and get the funds you need. As soon as possible. You need to inquire if Sirius left anything for you in the care of the goblins. And if there is, you need to take care of it.”

“What do you think Sirius left for me?” He asked becoming curious about his mum’s insistence.

Lily contemplated it, “What do you know about blood-birth?” Harry quickly shrugged his shoulders, indicating that he didn’t know anything.

Lily just had to make sure that he didn’t know, “You need to study better, sweetheart. Look, I don’t think I can explain it now, it’ll take too much time. But I think Sirius would have left the Black family signet ring for you.”

“What’s that?”

“The signet ring is worn by the Lord of House Black, passed down from Lord to Lord. The ring signifies the authority of the wearer. The ring is crafted via blood magic. Blood magic is illegal, but the ring has existed long since before the creation of the Ministry and the modern Wizengamot. Laws were different back then, so it might be a loophole. I think Sirius would have left it for you.” Lily finished confidently.

He just tilted his head confused, “Why?”

“Considering how this is the same man who often went to Gringotts just to ride those treacherous mine carts for fun, I’d say a prank is a distinct possibility. Sirius hated everything about his pureblood side; I can imagine him leaving the Black seat to you as a final prank against his parents and grandfather. A Potter becoming the Lord of House Black. Lord Arcturus Black would be rolling in his grave. It’s a good laugh.”

Riding Gringotts carts for the fun of it. That did sound like something Sirius would do. Leaving him the family ring to spite his ancestors, that also seemed like something Sirius would do, but he asked nonetheless, “Why d’you think Sirius left me his Lord’s ring, mum? It could be anything, maybe nothing right?”

“I’m not.” Lily answered swiftly, “It’s a guess. Look when your grandfather died, James took the mantle as Lord Potter. That’s when I found out about the signet rings that lords traditionally wore. I was curious and I researched much about it, and I asked Sirius about it too. Sirius told me about the blood magic and the enchantments in the Black family’s ring. If Sirius wanted to protect you, he would have left it to you. The fact that Albus did not allow you to attend the Will reading just adds to my doubts.”

He understood what his mum was trying to say, “I think, I understand. I’ll ask the goblins.”

“You need to start training yourself. Knowledge is necessary.” Lily said seriously. She glanced at Ron and pointed, “Get away from this one’s influence.”

“What? Why?” Harry’s eyes narrowed a little, “He’s my best mate, mum.”

“And jealous,” She paused her eyes lingering on the sleeping boy, “He hides it well, his fears. But I’ve noticed it more than enough times to know that it’s not conducive in the long run.” Lily felt Harry’s glare on her, so she quickly amended with a soft sigh, “I don’t think he’s doing it consciously, but I do think that his abhorrent habits have rubbed off on you a little more than I would have liked.”

“He’s a good friend, mum!” Harry was quick to defend Ron, “He’s been through hell with me.”

“True…” Lily agreed easily, “But still, his jealousy runs deep.”

“He’s brave and he’s loyal. You don’t know him, mum.”

Lily shook her head calmly, “On the contrary, I do know him, I’ve seen your friendship evolve over the years first-hand. But I’ve also seen things you missed or willfully ignored. It’s concerning. Look, the reason I insist is because I remember Peter. Peter was something similar, he was jealous of James and Sirius, yet he remained a friend, went on adventures with them, fought in the Order with them, but he hid his thoughts well. Ronald is certainly not to be compared with what Peter became and he is braver than that, but given enough time under the right circ*mstances, any jealousy can turn into resentment. And you don’t need friends who are resentful of you. It’s not healthy.”

Before Harry could retort, Lily held her hand up, “I don’t want to argue, but I just want you to be careful. Keep an eye on him. Study well and prepare yourself. And just be…sure. Okay?”

Harry groused but he understood her thoughts, “Fine, mum. I think that’s fair.” He mumbled hesitantly.

Lily quickly changed the topic, “Also…you need information about the Horcruxes. And you have the best source at your disposal.” Lily pointed at the scar.

Harry’s eyes widened, “You want me to use that?” His revulsion was evident in his tone.

“Yes!” Lily said firmly as though there was to be no more argument, “The soul is what holds a person’s memories, their consciousness, their identity. The Horcrux in your scar is a piece of Voldemort’s soul, it’s bound to have memories within it. Blood magic. Soul magic. Ghosts. Legilimency. Learn anything you can find, anyway that you need. Create a bloody ritual from scratch if necessary. Find a way. Use the Horcrux in you to find out what you need to know about Voldemort’s Horcruxes and where they are. Ask your friend Hermione for help, she seems level-headed and smart. You’ll need all the help you can get. Understood?”

He shifted unsurely, “I don’t know –”

“Is that understood?!” She asked a little more firmly.

He glanced at the stern look and he quickly agreed with a nod, “Yes, mum.”

“Oh, and by the way, stock up potion-making kits, cauldrons and tools, also on potion ingredients. Clean out a shop if you need to. Anything that you may need, get it before you go out to hunt these things.” Lily advised and he nodded contemplatively.

It made sense. The Liquid Luck helped them so much the day Dumbledore had died. Finding the Horcruxes would be easier if he had some luck on his side. Hermione could brew it if they had the proper equipment and the right ingredients. He quickly made a mental note to buy potion ingredients.

Lily then snapped her finger as she remembered, “One more thing.”

“Right now, you’re in the astral plane. Your soul would be saturated with this dimension’s ambient magic, making you accustomed to this plane. That means the next time you try to enter this plane; you’ll have an easier time. So, learn how to project your soul into the astral plane.”

“What do you mean by this dimension’s magic? Does this dimension have different magic?” Harry was confused.

“Of course, it does. Every world must have its ambient magic. This dimension is no different.” Lily explained briefly, “Where do you think our magic comes from? We borrow it from the world when we’re born and we give it back when we die. That’s why immortality is against natural law.”

That was a bit of information he didn’t know. He knew that Horcruxes were against nature, Dumbledore had explained it to him in their lessons when he was explained how Voldemort can’t make more Horcruxes.

Harry nodded accepting it, but frowned, “How do you know all this?”

“I researched it, as you should.” Lily said scoldingly, “Anyway, there are potions and spells that can help you with astral projection. Find them and learn them. You’ll never know when it might be useful.”

“I will.” He promised with a smile, strangely motivated by her words which he was certain was filled with disappointment. It wasn’t like Dumbledore’s ‘I’m disappointed in you’ look, which often left him feeling like a failure, her words just inspired him to work harder and he liked that.

His mother ranted again, “And before I forget…, non-verbal spell casting. You’ll have a much easier time mastering it.”

“I will? Why?”

Lily Potter thought for a moment, “Non-verbal spells are easier for introverts to learn and master. Back in school, we had this theory we tested out. Alice was the quietest student in school, and she was the queen of non-verbal spell casting. That’s what made her such a powerful Auror. Introverts are so naturally inclined to internalise their thoughts and intents in their minds, they could easily muster the necessary intent to produce powerful spells without speaking the incantation. You might want to take advantage of it and practice.”

Harry didn’t quite believe it, but he nodded nonetheless. It wouldn’t hurt to try and learn it, if it was true, he could be better equipped at duelling with Death Eaters.

His mum looked concerned for a moment before she added, “You might also want to get rid of the magical binding on you.”

Harry furrowed his brows in question, “What magical binding?”

“James placed one on you when you turned his hair green. It’s often done by parents to control the accidental magical outbursts in toddlers, at least to tone it down. James blocked a small fraction of your magic. Parents usually remove it before sending their children to Hogwarts. And it won’t show up on any diagnostic spells unless you’re specifically looking for it. To my knowledge having been with you every step, I don’t think it was removed, so you need to have it removed.”

He narrowed his eyes in deep thought, “Can anyone remove it? I mean, can I do it myself?”

“Placing a binding on a child is the difficult part, removing it however isn’t a problem. Although you can’t place new binding on someone after the age of twelve, pre-existing bindings can still exist within. Unfortunately, you can’t remove it from yourself. Ask Remus to remove it for you.” Lily offered easily.

Harry nodded his head in agreement, “Is there anything else?”

Lily thought for a minute and then she shook her head, “I think that’s about it.”

“Now can I ask you some questions?” He asked and she nodded to him, so he began.

The last two hours wasn’t nearly enough time, even if only minutes had passed in the outside world, he wanted more. He wanted more time with his mum, he wanted to make up for the years he had lost, years he had missed her.

They had talked about many things. From her school days to his father’s schooldays, how they had gotten together, how they had fallen in love.

To his surprise, he had also learned that his mum was an animagus as well. She had learned it herself, succeeded a month or so before her twentieth birthday. His mother’s animal form was a doe. It was kept a secret between his parents because of their roles in the Order. The Order was convinced that there was a spy among them, so in case she was in a pinch and needed a quick way out, she would surprise the enemies by transforming and escaping.

When all was said and done, he cried again. Crying seemed like something he was doing a lot today. He hated to be seen as weak, but he couldn’t help it. The topic had in the end come back to this again…

“But mum, it wasn’t worth it. Voldemort still came back, and you were still dead. But now Sirius is dead too. All because of me. All because all of you protected me.”

Lily looked angry like she wanted to slap some sense into her son, as though she was barely holding herself from lashing out, “Listen here, Harry James Potter.” He flinched at the tone, “Your father and I gave our lives for you. You may not like it, you may think that it was all for nought, but you do not get to make our decisions for us! Understood?!” She demanded and he nodded.

“We don’t regret what we did. And Sirius wouldn’t have as well.” Lily affirmed harshly, “If you think that it would have been wise that we just gave you up to Voldemort to escape so that we can have a family. Then you purge that thought out of your head right now! Do you hear me?!”

Never having felt the anger of his mother before, he simply nodded terrified. Now he understood why Ron, the twins and the rest of the Weasley siblings were so afraid of Molly. Mothers were scary.

She grabbed his ear and repeated, “Did you hear me?!”

“Yes. Sorry!”

“Good.” She let go of his ear, which would have hurt very much if he were really in his body.

Lily Potter took a calming breath while she glared at her son, “If doing the right thing was easy, everyone would do it all the time.”

“Your father and I wanted to raise a family in a world where…Voldemort’s tyranny did not exist. That’s why we joined the Order and fought against the Death Eaters. James was a pureblood with money, as his wife, as Lady Potter, I was safe. When Voldemort tried to recruit us, we could have easily switched sides, or perhaps even proclaimed our undying loyalty and stayed neutral as most families did, but we didn’t. Because we had a duty to the world. Because Voldemort was everything, we believed that was wrong with the wizarding world. And we fought for the world.”

“We don’t regret that we fought and we don’t regret that we had to die for our baby boy to live.” Lily stopped.

She took another calming breath and kneeled on one knee to grab her baby boy by the shoulder. He reminded so much of her James, except the eyes, which were hers and her mother’s.

“Honey, I’m proud of the man you’ve grown up to be.” She said softly, “You’ve always put your needs away to fulfil the needs of others. I’m proud of you for that. But sometimes you have to do what’s best for yourself, you have to put yourself together before you can help others. Don’t think for even a moment that any of this was your fault. Voldemort’s the one at fault. Do you understand?”

Seeing him nod with glistening tears, she kissed his forehead once.

She slowly sat next to him and held his hands. He quietly spoke without an ounce of happiness in his voice, “I just want to sit here next to you, mum.”

“Okay, sweetheart.” She sighed contently, relishing in the precious moments she got to share with her son, but melancholy that James wasn’t here to be with Harry.

She looked at her son and smiled with pride, “You look so much like James. Your father didn’t get his looks from Fleamont, he took after your grandmother Euphemia. She would have been proud of you too.”

“Thanks, mum.” He wiped away his eyes, desperately trying to pass it off as something in his eyes with no success.

After a moment of silence, his voice broke her thoughts, “Mum, about dad.”

He started hesitantly, remembering the memory of his dad and Sirius bullying Snape. He didn’t give a damn about Snape’s wellbeing, but he did care how his mum who was considered brilliant like Hermione was charmed by his dad. He could tell that there was a story behind it and he wanted to know.

“I saw a memory of dad, Sirius and the gang bullying Snape, you were there too, Snape called you a – something... I want to know- I mean, I’d like to know…” He had for moments thought about if his dad had somehow forced mum to go out with her, he just wanted to know if his fears were warranted or not.

Lily frowned a little but gave her son an understanding nod, “James wasn’t perfect, neither was I. No one is. He was an obnoxious berk in school, but he changed after his sixth year. Nobody forced him to change, not family circ*mstances or fear, he just grew up and matured. Believe me, I had my doubts and a fair share of scepticism. But I know he changed for the better.”

“Changed how?” He asked in interest.

“Your father was a pureblood, but he didn’t believe in blood purity and that was a fairly rare thing. He could have easily pretended to be a purist to suck up to the other purebloods in school even if he didn’t believe in it. It was the popular thing to do in school at the time, and your dad was popular, but he chose not to do it. He didn’t choose the easy way out. He stood up for what he believed in because he wasn’t a coward. He defended people from others who used the slur ‘mudblood’. James didn’t dabble in the dark arts because he found it fascinating or because it made them feel powerful. Why do you think I distanced myself from Severus? Why do you think Sirius hated Severus? Because Sirius loathed his family’s affinity towards the darker arts, for what they turned his brother Regulus into, and so by extension, he hated everyone who practised it.”

Lily gave her son a full gaze, “I won’t defend James’s actions when he was a prat, far from it, I avoided his advances for a long time because of it. I didn’t even give him a chance until our final year.”

“But James had good in him, more goodness in him than the obvious flaws. Seeing what you saw from Severus’s perspective is bound to leave a bad taste in your mouth. Severus loathed him for many different reasons, just as James hated him. And I think Severus wanted you to see it that way so that you will hate James and the gang. What better revenge is there, making a son hate his dead father and godfather?”

Mum’s words were right on the galleon. Ever since Sirius’s death, he had suspected that was what Snape had been trying to do with the memory, hoping that he would stumble on it. After how Snape and Sirius had nearly come to blows at Christmas that year, it made sense, especially seemed a lot like a Slytherin’s cunning manipulation. He had known Snape for all his Hogwarts years, and he knew that the man was as petty as they came. A man in his thirties bullying children less than half his age, bullying children who weren’t Slytherin just because he got off on it. It seemed so obvious now with what his mum just said.

“For example, I knew Remus on friendlier terms outside of their gang from as back as our second year. Remus was also my fellow prefect and I respected him. Remus was kind and smart, but he had a hard time making friends, but your father didn’t care about any of that stigma, they were close friends.” Lily paused to see if he was listening carefully.

“When you miss class and go missing for a few days after every full moon, people naturally become curious. No one noticed it in our early years, but by the time we sat down for our OWLs, rumours were floating around about Remus’s condition, people were badmouthing Remus behind his back. Severus hated that Remus was allowed in the school to study with the rest of us, he never said it explicitly but it was obvious to me from the get-go. James and Sirius played pranks and hexed the lot of them despite the string of detentions and the loss of points they heaped until no one dared to open their mouths about Remus. Severus spent weeks in the infirmary for ignoring their warnings, and I didn’t approve of that then. But looking back, that’s what I would have done in their place. It wasn’t Remus’s fault that he was bitten, just as it isn’t my fault that I was born to non-magical parents. Prejudices had to be broken. If you don’t stand up against prejudices, they will never go away.”

“Your father and I fought against prejudices when many who didn’t believe in blood-purity didn’t lift a finger to help. We didn’t do it for personal gain or ambition, we did what we thought was right. James cared about his friends, his parents, about the Order, about me, about you and the magical society at large. We shared similar core values and that’s the key to having a great marriage. That’s what made him a great husband and father. And I never once regretted falling in love with him. He was stag who needed a doe in his life just as much as I needed him.” She giggled at the last quip and so did Harry.

For a long minute, he just grinned hearing what his mother had ranted. Ever since that memory, he had held certain beliefs about his father and Sirius and the marauders in general, he loved them, but he was also conflicted about their attitude when they were teenagers. They were like Malfoy, maybe not as cowardly as Malfoy was, but they were still bullies. And that was hard to swallow.

But what his mum said was true in more than one way, whatever wrong Sirius did, he had paid for it and more by spending more than ten years in Azkaban for a crime he did not commit. His father wasn’t a petty bullying coward like Snape or Malfoy was, he was an arrogant Gryffindor, was that a consolation, not so much, but he understood. James Potter grew up to be a responsible adult who willingly threw himself in front of Voldemort and died for him and his mum. Sirius and his father had the opportunity and the means to resort to darkness, to take the Dark Mark, to revel in power, to maim and rape and kill for fun in the name of blood-purity. If they truly were terrible people like Snape portrayed them to be, they would have done just that, but they hadn’t, that by itself in his book showed great strength in character.

“Thanks, mum.” He said softly smiling, “I needed to hear it.”

In a flash, he hugged her desperately, “I w-wish you – stayed.” His voice broke as he whimpered.

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” Lily teared up herself, her voice quivered, “But never forget that you were loved, you’ll always be loved, no matter where we are.”

“I love you, mum.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

With that, Lily Potter gifted her son with the precious memories of her falling in love with James, her marriage to James, Harry’s birth, those fifteen months she had loved her boy with all that she could muster. To show him just how much he was loved.

Chapter 2: So It Begins

Chapter Text

Gringotts –

Waking up was like a dream. The world felt reversed, as though his out of body experience with the company of his mum’s soul had been the reality and waking up was the dream instead. Everything felt too fast for him. He had liked the calm serenity of the astral world; he’d liked the slowness of it.

And for the first and last time, he had met his mum. A part of him was overjoyed that he had gotten the chance to talk to her, another part of him was broken that it had ended. A big part of him wanted him to stay with her forever, even when he knew that it was impossible, even though he knew that he had a duty to fulfil the prophecy and stop this war.

Why did it seem so selfish? What had the wizarding world done for him? A small voice of resentment echoed, but it did not linger. “It’s not about what it has done for you, it’s what you have left to give for it.” A voice that soundly oddly like his mother’s voice echoed in that void.

The promise he had made to her echoed a moment later, “Promise me.” It only made him ache.

A part of his heart just hoped that it would end with Voldemort and him dying together, the Horcrux in his head and Voldemort’s soul shredded to a state of inexistence. What exactly did he have left here to live for? Ginny, he thought, an image of a life with her came to mind, but the image slowly grew distorted and blurry, he couldn’t picture it no matter how much he tried to.

Fresh tears sprang, trickling down and soaking the pillow, as he laid there voicelessly staring expressionless at the ceiling of the room, thinking about the last moments he had spent with his mum. He hated crying. Crying was pointless, he’d figured that out as a child even back when he used to cower behind Vernon’s beating and Petunia’s cold shoulders, but he just couldn’t help himself.

He had lost them very early in life, at an age when he couldn’t even comprehend what that meant, he’d been too young to realise what he had lost. He’d never had a reason to properly grieve them. He felt their absence once he started learning about them and often wondered what his childhood would have been like if they had lived, he resented that image of a perfect childhood he could never have, but had he felt the loss, the answer was ‘no, he had not’. And now, he felt it, he felt the loss, one real memory of her, that was all he had of his mum. Panic, anxiety, grief, fear, shame, all of which he had felt when he lost Sirius, he felt it amplified.

Nearly an hour went away to the silence, he didn’t know when he had stopped crying and when that moment of grief paralysis had ebbed away. He didn't enjoy feeling sorry for himself, because he had things to do, so he tested. When he realised that he could move, he knew that he had to seize it now. His mother’s words echoed in his ears, it served to remind him of all that she had sacrificed for him and all that she told him to do. He had quickly pulled himself out of bed.

Planning was never his strong suit, but he was always good at improvising. Right now, he didn’t need Ron or Hermione, he needed to do this alone for so many reasons. He needed to distract himself, or else he knew that he wouldn’t move for the rest of the day. Deciding that time was of the essence, he had called Dobby for help.

Dobby had dropped him at the entrance of Diagon Alley early in the morning before the sun even rose and then went to the Dursley’s old home in Privet Drive to find his Firebolt. Under the safety of his invisibility cloak, he had made it into the bank undetected, abruptly appearing before the front door. The goblin guards had been both annoyed by and admired his cloak and then had grudgingly allowed him entry. Speaking to the head teller, he had gotten a private audience with the goblin in charge of his accounts.

After Dobby had brought him his Firebolt, which was miraculously still there, he had half expected the Death Eaters to have taken it or destroyed it. And then Dobby once again went on a new mission to find the whereabouts of the Potter elves, Flitty and Nitsy, the one his mum had told him about. The elves weren’t responding to his call, so he had asked Dobby to find them.

His eyes fell on the Firebolt resting against the table and then it drifted to the ring on his left ring finger. Before him sat the goblin account manager Brittleskin, who had explained to him all the things he needed to know as Sirius’s heir. The properties, the family tree, the remaining wealth and the assets, all of it.

His mum had been alarmingly accurate in her assumption. While Sirius had bequeathed the Black family seat to him, he had also left him the Black signet ring to signify his authority over the Black family seat, apparently to prevent the seat and the wealth from falling into the hands of someone with a better claim than his, like the Malfoys.

Personally, he didn’t care if he didn’t get it, but he didn’t like the idea of Death Eater criminal wankers like the Malfoys becoming even more wealthy and being snobbier. So, without much objections, he had signed the inheritance forms by signing the legal documents with his blood. The goblins had drawn a bit of blood from him and turned that into a deep red ink for him to write with, he had signed all the forms with his full name until the ink ran out. And with that, he became the legal heir of Sirius Black as per his last will and testament, and by doing so the legal Lord of House Black.

Signing the documents in blood was necessary by Black Family Law to ensure that the lord is tied to the house’s old magic by blood. Wearing the ring, he felt different, surreal in fact. Magic was something he had begun to feel within him over the years, it was inside him and, on his skin, he felt it leave him every time he used a spell and sometimes, he felt it was all around him. In some places, the magic around him felt stronger, denser and in some places, it was lighter, weaker and in some others, it didn’t feel like anything unique. Now that the ring had adjusted to fit the size of his finger and he felt the magic in it. It almost felt like the ring was a gateway that opened up a connection to some deep, strong magic, but it didn’t feel like any magic that he’s ever felt around him, it felt like the magic that had voices, or echoes of voices. It flowed through him via the ring, as though the ring itself was a conduit.

So distracted by the flurry of thoughts swirling in his head, he had missed most of what was being said to him. He tuned in to what the goblin account manager was droning, “…the ring as I mentioned invokes the sacred blood-birth ritual as the recognised lord wears it. The purified blood of the last lord resides on the stone. The blood on the stone will fuse to yours, and as it does, the stone turns white. When your blood is purified, a drop of yours will be stored back in the stone for your descendant, and the stone would once again turn blood red. The ritual takes time and happens slowly in a matter of months. This ritual is strictly to ensure the purity of the blood of the new lord. House Black considers blood to be the most important for any lord of the House. Once the ritual is complete you will have access to all Black family properties and wards.”

“Wait a minute, you’re saying that someone’s blood is stored in the stone on the ring that’s now magically mixing with mine? Whose is it? You know, before me.” He asked looking at the ring in alarm, “Is it Sirius’s?”

The goblin sneered, “No, Lord Sirius Orion Black chose not to wear the ring, for what reason I do not know, nor do I care. The blood on the ring belongs to the last active Lord of House Black, Lord Arcturus Black the Third. Lord Sirius’s grandfather.”

He scrunched his nose in slight disgust as he gazed closely at the blood-red almost black stone on the ring, and if looked closely enough he could see the black family insignia engraved on it. He felt tainted wearing it like he was marked, but he left it on his finger regardless, purely because mum and Sirius had both wanted him to take it.

He would have preferred it if the last wearer of the ring had been Sirius, being connected to Sirius by blood was a pleasing thought, but unfortunately, Sirius hadn’t worn it. While he understood why Sirius didn’t want any part of his family’s pureblood traditions, he certainly didn’t like the idea of Sirius’s grandfather’s blood and the blood of all his predecessors being fused with his own, even if it was only one drop. Pettigrew had only taken a few drops of his blood from him for Voldemort’s resurrection ritual, look where that had gotten him. Experience and instinct told him not to underestimate the power of blood.

“What if Sirius’s grandfather had some blood-borne diseases? Wouldn’t I now get it?” He asked more than a little concerned and equally alarmed.

The goblin just grinned at him mockingly, “That is the price of wealth and power. This is the risk you must be ready to take. A blood malediction might awaken again in you or one of your descendants, beware Lord Potter.”

As much as he distrusted the goblins, he believed them on this. They had no love for him and he certainly didn’t care about them. He made a mental note to take a look at what blood malediction meant because he had no clue. Whatever it was, it didn’t sound good and he was slightly scared about it.

“You should have mentioned this before I chose to wear the ring, not after.” He groused while firmly staring at the goblin.

The goblin’s toothy grin just grew wider, “And you should have learned your duties as heir beforehand, Lord Potter. The goblin nation cannot be held accountable for the lack of foresight in the witch or wizard’s choices.”

He just glared at the goblin who looked rather smug, but it was hard to tell from the goblin’s facial expression, most of it looked the same to him.

The rest of the meeting went reasonably well. His parents’ Will was pretty basic, it left the Potter seat to him and left everything, including all the properties and assets to his name, with instructions of access be given to him by the age of fifteen, at which point he could have declared his heirdom and gotten legal prowess if his magical guardian deems it safe. He could have left Privet Drive two years ago if only Dumbledore hadn’t sealed the copy in the Ministry and hadn’t kept the details from him. It really made him think about Dumbledore’s motives. Did the man want him with the Dursleys for his safety or his own convenience? It was a hard question to swallow.

Turns out, he had two vaults in the bank, one was the family vault he took money from for school, the other was the Main family vault. The main family vault had no money in it, mostly items like priceless family heirlooms, precious books, portraits of old family members, and so on. Thankfully, the goblins brought him the Potter Signet ring from the vault without him even asking for it. He now proudly wore it on his right ring finger. Unlike the Black ring, the Potter ring had no real magical requirements or dangers, which is why he liked it more.

“As a last matter of business.” Brittleskin began.

As he looked up the goblin placed an envelope before him, “A letter dated 28^th April 1996, from Sirius Orion Black to Harry James Potter.”

“Sign here.” The goblin placed a parchment before him and held a quill.

He didn’t touch the quill, he just sat there and stared at the letter numbly. Sirius had left him a letter, one that had reached his hand a year late. He didn’t know what came over him, but he felt a deep loathing for Dumbledore for not allowing him to have this last year. What gave that man the right to deny him this? He raged madly in his head.

“Lord Potter.” The goblin sneered impatiently.

Snapping his head towards the goblin, he noticed the sneer and the parchment held out to him. Numbly picking up the quill, he illegibly scribbled his name on the parchment and took the letter in his shaky hand and pocketed it, trying his best to calm his swirling emotions that were threatening to spill out.

As he sat there numbly, Brittleskin placed a small glass and poured him a drink, “A customary tradition meant for the ascension of a new Lord.” The goblin explained at his reluctance.

Harry slowly took it and sipped on the customary celebratory goblin concoction that the account manager offered to all wizards and witches who came of age and claimed the family seats and lordship. The tonic looked green, transparent and beautiful, but it tasted rather foul. He regretted taking the first sip, but he also knew that not drinking it wouldn't be right. Ignoring the taste, he gulped it down in the next swig and tried his best not to show the distaste on his face.

He checked his watch and found that it was already nearing eight in the morning. After another twenty-five minutes of silence during which he pondered the contents of the letter, but chose not to open it right now. Then a goblin in a green suit walked into the room with a large bag that had half of the Galleons, Sickles and Knuts from his vault, as well as the other half which was converted into Pounds Sterling that he had asked for. He left the inheritance from Sirius untouched, earmarked for the future, with instructions for it to be equally distributed to Hermione, Ron, the entire Weasley family, to Remus, to Tonks and the Order in the case of his untimely death.

“I want to visit the main vault before I leave.” He said as he stood up.

Brittleskin merely raised an eyebrow, “Very well, Vault 917. Grimhin will take you.” Motioned towards another goblin by the door.

He had expected a key to be given to him, but when nothing came, he took the money bag by the wooden handles in his hands. He turned to the account manager just in time to hear, “Well wishes to you Lord Potter-Black. Tick-tock, my lord, tick-tock. May you have good fortune in your journey ahead.”

Harry just stared at the goblin for a long minute in genuine confusion at the wording, ‘Tick-tock?’ Why did Brittleskin say that? What did he intend to convey?

“Thank you.” He said it slowly with narrowed eyes and confusion as Brittleskin went back to work without a glance. And he quietly dismissed himself, picking up his Firebolt as he left the room following behind the goblin named Grimhin.

The Burrows –

It was around half-past ten, when he returned to the Weasley home, his third time apparating by himself, by memory, even though he had no license to do it legally. Landing in the swamps, his legs were wet but he didn’t mind. As he entered the home via the kitchen door, all eyes turned on him.

Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Fred, George, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Remus, Tonks, Mr and Mrs Weasley all had a similar sentiment, many of them either glared at him or looked relieved.

“Harry!” Mrs Weasley rushed to him with obvious relief.

Ron rushed over with his mum, “Where have you been, mate? We thought you’d left.”

He looked around the room and saw Ginny looking relieved, Hermione had tear stains on her cheeks, the rest of them looked concerned. Before he could say anything, Remus came over looking angry.

“After everything, we went through to bring you here, you went out unguarded? Have you lost your bloody mind?!” Remus raged at him.

For some reason, he didn’t mind the scolding as he was in a good mood, “I’m of age now.” He replied with a shrug, “Nobody’s tracking me anymore. And I can look after myself. Thank you very much.” He replied easily.

“Where did you go?!” Hermione demanded as she too stood up looking irritated.

“I had a few errands to run. Went to Gringotts, then visited the apothecary on Carkitt market, picked up a few other things, and then I went to St Mungo’s.” He shrugged again as if he was in such a good mood while the entire room gaped.

Before the room could explode in the tension, Mrs Weasley wayed in at that, “St Mungo’s? Is anything wrong, Harry?” She asked as she sat him down and was immediately fussing over him.

“No. I just wanted to see if everything is alright.” He replied casually yet again, and he could tell from the reaction around the kitchen that it was vexing them, but he didn’t care. He particularly didn’t want to explain about the ring and the blood and other things.

He was too much in a good mood to care, “Turns out, around six per cent of my magic was bound to reduce magical accidents as a child. It was never removed. I just had the healers remove it.” He said with a grin.

Tonks’ eyes widened as she finally clued in, “He’s high! On magic overload in his brain.”

Suddenly, the realization sunk in on all the adults while the rest of them looked confused. Mrs Weasley quickly fussed around, “Arthur, honey, get me a Calming Draught from the shelf.”

Remus shook his head, “No, no, he doesn’t need a draught. He just needs some strong coffee. Thick, black, no sugar, add lemon to it. That’ll do it I reckon.”

Tonks pushed past them all, “I have a better idea.” She raised her hand and swung it at his face, Harry caught it expertly on instinct, impressing Tonks. “Nice reflexes.” But she wasn’t an Auror for nothing, before he could react, she jerked back her hand and as he was distracted, she fluidly slapped the other side of his face with her other hand, ‘SLAP!’ Leaving a red handprint on the side of his face.

They all noticed Harry’s face clear a little as he closed his eyes and opened it again a few times, “Owww, why’d you do that for?!” He snapped looking quite furious.

“For being an insensitive prat.” Tonks shrugged smoothly.

He just glared at Tonks, “Sod off.”

Fred and George immediately chorused with wide grins, “And he’s back!” Instantly, lightening the ambience in the kitchen.

It was already afternoon, and the magical high that he’d felt after St Mungo’s was long gone. He stood by the window high in the room, the window was charmed to make sure that no one could see him as he watched the procession of people below who were entering into the marquee. The wedding was beginning, but he no longer felt as invested in it as he had felt yesterday, his encounter with his mum had changed everything.

As he was yet to drink the Polyjuice potion that would turn him into ‘Barney Weasley’, he was avoiding the wedding for the moment or rather staying out of sight.

Two Aurors had already come by the house looking for him after his little shopping detour this morning in Diagon Alley. Thinking back, he felt like an idiot. What had he been thinking? He wondered to himself. He had to be smarter than this.

On the other hand, Sirius’s letter was heavy in his pocket, he was struggling to make a decision. He wanted to read it, but he also wanted to do it alone, it felt like it should be a very personal thing. Here in the house, with the Weasleys, the chances of someone intruding was high, so he left it in his pocket even though his hand itched for it.

Not wishing to dwell on it, he quickly left the room to find Bill. He found the man of the hour in the groom’s room downstairs and he opened the door with only a knock. Mr Weasley and the rest of the family were already in the marquee inviting guests, so Bill was alone. Bill was dressed in a sharp black wedding suit that made the man look more handsome than ever.

“Come in, Harry,” Bill said with a nod as he fixed his bowtie looking at the mirror.

“Bill.” He gave a nod.

“Nervous?” He asked with a smirk.

Bill for his part sighed, “A little. I suppose that’s normal.”

“It is…I’d assume.” Harry replied awkwardly.

He pulled out a cube-shaped box and he handed it to Bill without a word. Bill eyed it for a moment and flipped open the cover and beheld the silver watch. One of the first prototype contraptions that mixed magical time runes with muggle technology, or so the shopkeeper of the Cogg and Bell Clockmakers had claimed before the owner had essentially told him to leave, only hesitating when he had wanted to buy the watch for the given price.

“You didn’t have to.” Bill said softly, “Is this why you went out this morning?”

“Not entirely. Just a small part of the reason.” He said smirking with a shrug.

“Thank you, Harry.” The man didn’t exactly smile as he closed the box.

“You’re welcome.” He extended his hand and Bill took it and held it.

Bill’s eyes turned sharp for a moment, “Whatever it is that’s Dumbledore’s asked you to do. Be careful. Keep my brother safe. If you need help, at any time, don’t hesitate.”

“I will.” It was a pact between men sealed as they shook hands.

With that, he left the groom’s room and headed back upstairs to the bride’s room. On the way, Fleur’s little sister Gabrielle stopped him for a moment, “Ello Arry.” The eleven-year-old giggled at him, batting her eyelashes in her beautiful golden dress.

“Hello, Gabrielle.” He smiled back warmly; he still remembered the adorable little girl he had pulled out of the lake. She reminded him so much of Luna. Putting his hand on the top of her head, he just messed with her hair like Hagrid used to do back in the early years in school and then sidestepped her, not noticing the dimming in her smile.

Reaching the bride’s room, he knocked twice.

“Who is it?” Ginny’s voice echoed.

“It’s me.” He grinned to himself at the thought of seeing Ginny.

The giggling inside the room stopped for a moment and he heard, “Come in.”

He pushed open the door and he almost ran into Ginny. She grinned and said in a whisper, “Hi, Harry.” Whenever she said that in the past, butterflies often fluttered inside his ribcage and his stomach would do a flip. But for the first time, his grin dropped abruptly.

Now, that Ginny was before him, all ready for the wedding, dressed elegantly and powdered up beautiful, something odd was lodged in his chest instead. He couldn’t help but notice how much Ginny and his mother looked alike. Pale skin, ginger red hair, a beautiful heart-shaped face, while his mum’s face had no freckles but Ginny’s did, and their eyes were different too. He tried to justify it, to accentuate the differences more than the similarities to try and rationalise something to himself. What was he trying to rationalise? He didn’t know for sure. Then he remembered that even this morning, he had at first mistaken his mum’s ethereal image for Ginny. They were just so similar that his first thought was mistaking them for each other. He couldn’t rationalise that, and that sobered him up.

On top of all that, he couldn’t believe that he had never once noticed this before. He had pictures of his parents; which he has spent many an hour staring at over the years. Had he been so inattentive? He could have been blind and it wouldn’t have made a difference.

That physical aesthetic that connected Ginny and his mum in his head completely curdled any bubbling emotions in his chest. He didn’t want to love…lust after someone who looked so much like his mum, even indirectly, or even by accident. Something about that thought made him want to retch. He hadn’t noticed it until today, and he likely would never have noticed it if he hadn’t seen her or talked to her this very morning. That was unsettling.

If not for Fleur distracting him thankfully, his blunt stare would have turned into a grimace, upsetting Ginny even further.

“Oui ‘Arry,” Fleur called his attention, “Is somezing ze matter?”

Realising that he’d been staring at Ginny for a few moments, he was thankful for the distraction, he sidestepped Ginny and pulled a large royal blue jewellery box out of his coat, not daring to look at Ginny again, “Oh, nothing. I just wanted to give you your wedding gift.”

Fleur looked stunning compared to Bill. ‘Poor Bill’ he mused, if he thought Bill had looked handsome, then he was nothing next to his fiancé. She was wearing a beautiful white dress with two phoenixes facing each other on the front, all embroidered in black. She had a beautiful black tiara that rested on her blonde hair that matched her outfit perfectly. She looked beautiful.

“Awww!” The girls in the room teased him, whispering and giggling amongst themselves, whom he guessed to be Fleur’s cousins. They said something he couldn’t hear and then giggled again collectively, while Hermione who stood beside them rolled her eyes at them.

“You didn’-” Fleur’s word stopped as her jaw fell open the moment, she opened the box.

Seeing her reaction, the girls quickly surrounded the bride and one of them gasped something in French, “Mon Dieu!” Even Hermione who was never too keen on things that most girls giggled about looked as though she wanted to eat it. He felt relieved that his taste in jewellery wasn’t bad.

It was three rows of diamond-studded platinum necklace with matching earrings. The gift was an afterthought, something he had decided to buy when roaming around Diagon Alley under the invisibility cloak. It was a little more than he wanted to spend on a wedding gift, but the Weasleys had done so much for him over the years, even Fleur had risked her life for him during the battle a few days ago. And he wanted to show them his appreciation and perhaps repay the debt. It was the only piece of jewellery that looked nice in that shop in Carkitt market and the woman in the shop was very appreciative of it. It had many safety charms embedded on it; the shopkeeper had said so before the owner appeared from the back. The shop owner had just wanted him to leave his shop and had quickly accepted when he had asked it for one hundred and twenty Galleons, instead of the two hundred Galleon price tag.

Fleur stifled happy tears and quickly hugged him tightly, “Zank y-you!” She mumbled before releasing him and turning to the large mirror as the girls began dressing her up. Soon the necklace rested on Fleur’s neck elegantly. Hermione gave him an appreciative look, and Ginny looked impressed by his gestures.

That’s when the Black family ring on his finger started vibrating and it immediately made him anxious. This was new. ‘Why is it vibrating?’ He wondered, but whatever it is, it made him anxious, ‘Something’s wrong.’ His brain automatically concluded on instinct.

Before they could pester him further, he stealthily slipped out of the room. Hermione followed him out of the room as he went back to the bedroom. By the time he reached the bedroom, the ring stopped vibrating, making him let out of long sigh of relief.

As soon as he was inside, Hermione came in behind him, “That was nice of you, Harry.”

“It was the least I could do.” He smirked distractedly.

His smile fell a little and he began staring off into space, he just had this gut feeling that something was up. From the way the Brittleskin had said ‘tick-tock’, the way the Apothecary shop owner in Diagon Alley, the Cogg and Bell Clockmakers shop owner and the Jewellery Store owner in Carkitt Market had reacted hours earlier to his presence in their shops, it set him on the edge. They knew something and they didn’t want him anywhere near them. He had a sneaking suspicion that he had only managed to avoid any incident because it had been fairly early in the morning and so there hadn’t been many people in the shopping district, and he had been under his invisibility cloak as he roamed out in the open.

“What’s going on, Harry?”

He ignored the casual tone behind her question and he answered following his gut feeling, “I have a feeling that something’s wrong. Or something’s going to…”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

He glanced at his ring first before he leaned against the window, “The jewellery store where I bought the necklace, the shop where I bought the watch for Bill and the Apothecary where I bought potion ingredients. They didn’t want me in their shops. Even my goblin account manager said something that sounded oddly like a warning.”

Hermione looked confused and a little irritated at the mention of his little risky excursion this morning, “Harry, can you blame them? Death Eaters attacked the shops in Diagon Alley and took captives not too long ago. I’d assume they were just scared.”

“I know that,” He nodded, “But there was this urgency in the way they behaved. And that’s not making any sense. If it was just one of the three shops, I wouldn’t have minded, if it was two then it could have been just a coincidence, but all three of them? Besides, why would Brittleskin say ‘tick-tock’, and he said it twice? It felt like they all knew something that we’re missing. I didn’t want to spend too much time out in the open, so I didn’t stay long, so I didn’t think much of it then, you know, beyond them being afraid. But then I came back and Aurors came here looking for me. And now looking at the necklace, I keep thinking back and something doesn’t feel right.”

Hermione frowned thoughtfully, “Maybe – you’re just imagining it.” She said soothingly, “In any case, we’ll be leaving after the wedding so…”

He shook his head as he interrupted, “I don’t think we can wait that long. When the wedding starts, just as a precaution, stay close to Ron. Be ready for anything.”

Hermione bit her lips but nodded nonetheless as she trusted in his instincts, “I will. You should drink that Polyjuice potion and pretend to be Barney. A disguise will help. Stay next to us. We have to stay together.”

“Okay.” He agreed thinking the merits of it, “Could you send Fred and George up? I think they have the potion.”

Hermione quickly gave a nod and she left in a hurry. As she left, he packed everything he had in his possession, storing it in a bottomless bag and then shrinking the bag down as he stashed it inside his inner jacket pocket.

The wedding started around four and the ceremony lasted for nearly an hour before the spell was cast and the marriage bond between Bill and Fleur was officiated.

The bride and groom kissed and the ceremony was over. The guests cheered and the celebration began in full swing. But he stood at the edge watching in concern as the Black signet ring was vibrating around his finger. He didn’t know why it was vibrating again, or what it meant, but it made him anxious and his instincts told him that it was a warning, that something was definitely wrong.

On top of that, he stood by and was forced to watch Muriel and Elphias Doge argue about Dumbledore. If this conversation had happened yesterday, he would have defended Dumbledore’s name along with Doge, but after everything he knew about Dumbledore now, he didn’t feel like he wanted to defend him. Too distracted by the ring that was warning him, he just stood by and watched them argue.

So, consumed by the anxiety of whatever that was coming, he failed to notice Ginny giving him longing looks as she danced with Lee, or Krum asking Hermione and Ron about Luna’s father, or Ginny then dancing with Krum, or Ron glaring at the famous Quidditch player afterwards, or Hermione looking at him in concern, and Ron and Hermione coming towards him.

Hermione dragged Ron away from the dancing and went for Harry who was standing there disguised as Barney, who was looking more and more distraught by the minute, “What is it? What’s going on?” Hermione asked worriedly.

Before he could even answer, Ron snapped at him, “You should do something about Krum. He’s dancing with Ginny!”

“Ron…!” Hermione shot him a glare.

His gaze drifted to Ginny and Krum dancing in circles for a moment, but then he shook his head and glanced at the ring. Burying that surge of jealousy, he stared at Ron and Hermione and whispered seriously, “Something feels wrong.”

Ron feeling the urgency of his tone asked, “Mate, what is it?”

“I don’t know. But something feels wrong. Very wrong!” He whispered again in a hurry, “I think we should go.”

That’s when all three of them felt it, a silence that washed over the entire tent. In an instant, the buzzing of the celebration stopped and a hush fell over. Heads turned to the centre of the tent where a blue Lynx landed, it was a Patronus. The Lynx opened its mouth.

“The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They're coming.” “ The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They're coming.” “ The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They're coming.” “ The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They're coming.”

Shacklebolt’s panicked voice echoed throughout the tent as guests froze and then chaos ensued in the panic. There were several ‘pops’ of cars backfiring and suddenly men clad in black wearing metal masks were inside the tent firing spells in all directions. The Order members were firing back. In an instant, it was chaos, furniture flew, the lights flickered and people were running and tripping and falling.

Several “Protego,” could be heard around the chaos.

Hermione who had been on high alert all day was instantly on his side, she grabbed him with her left and Ron on her right and they immediately apparated to the first place that came to her mind. And they disappeared in a swirl of distorted images.

London –

“Where are we?” Ron’s voice rumbled.

Harry opened his eyes. For a moment he thought they had not left the wedding at all. They still seemed to be surrounded by people.

“Tottenham Court Road,” Hermione panted as she said it, “Walk, just walk, we need to find somewhere for you to change.”

They half-walked and half-ran as they put some distance between themselves and the crowd. They ran up the wide dark street thronged with late-night revellers and lined with closed shops, stars twinkling above them.

“Hermione, we haven’t got anything to change into,” Ron told her.

“It’s okay, I’ve got clothes for both of you.” Hermione assured them, “Just try and act naturally until – this will do.” She led them down a side street, then into the shelter of a shadowy alleyway.

Hermione surprised them by pulling out her purse that had everything in it, even clothes necessary to change into.

“You can make a bottomless bag?” He asked surprised, “That’s brilliant.”

“Thank you, Harry.” She replied distractedly.

Ron looked stunned, “How in the ruddy hell–?”

“Undetectable Extension Charm.” She replied matter-of-factly, “Tricky, but I think I’ve done it okay; anyway, I managed to fit everything we need in here.”

Pretty soon, they all took turns and changed under the invisibility cloak and were walking down the road in an attempt to keep moving.

“The others – everybody at the wedding –”

“We can’t worry about that now.” Hermione whispered, “It’s you they’re after, Harry, and we’ll just put everyone in even more danger by going back.”

“She’s right, mate.” Ron added, who seemed to know that he was about to argue, “Most of the Order was there, they’ll look after everyone.”

He nodded in agreement, but that worry still didn’t go away. As they were walking, Hermione asked him whisperingly, “How did you know about the attack? Did the scar hurt again?”

“Not here.” He whispered back, “We need to get somewhere safe first. I’ll tell you then.”

He was still under Polyjuice so he didn’t have to worry about the disguise. Hermione led them into a cafe that looked empty. And they all sat down and ordered. Never having been to a muggle cafe before, he didn’t know what to order and so Hermione ordered for them.

After a minute or two of silence, Ron said, “You know, we’re not far from the Leaky Cauldron here, it’s only in Charing Cross…”

“Ron, we can’t!” Hermione said at once.

“Not to stay there, but to find out what’s going on!”

“We know what’s going on! Voldemort’s taken over the Ministry, what else do we need to know?” He said snappishly.

“Okay, okay, it was just an idea, no need to bite my head off!”

They relapsed into a prickly silence. A pair of burly workmen entered the cafe and squeezed into the next booth. The waitress brought them their cappuccinos. Ron took an eager sip and immediately declared, “Ugh, who drinks this muck?”

The waitress who was walking back to the counter clearly heard it and gave Ron a nasty look, which neither Ron nor Hermione noticed as they sat facing him. He took a sip and he found it tasting just fine, so he gave the waitress an appraising look instead, but she just turned away huffing angrily anyway, so he sighed at his vain attempt at damage control.

Hermione dropped her voice to a whisper, “I say we find a quiet place to Disapparate and head for the countryside. Once we’re there, we could send a message to the Order.”

“Can you do that talking Patronus thing, then?” Ron asked but Hermione didn’t answer him.

Hermione was suddenly looking at Harry mysteriously because Harry was tense, too tense. Ron quickly noticed the tension and looked at him, when Ron saw his eyes, he silenced himself. Harry’s eyes alone darted to the side indicating to the two men on the booth next to them.

Hermione glanced a look and she slowly reached her hand under the table to get her wand, Ron did the same. The two workmen made identical movements, and Harry mirrored them without conscious thought. Just as the two men fired spells, Ron pushed Hermione down and avoided getting hit by the red jet that shattered the tile behind where Ron’s head had been.

“Stupefy!” Harry yelled as his spell landed on the big blonde one’s face and knocked him out.

His companion fired a spell at him, which Harry effortlessly deflected to a nearby table that went flying, but he only barely managed to stop the next Knockback Hex that came his way, it still pushed him back into the wall, only not as hard it would have been.

The man fired another at Ron who had just flipped the table over for cover. Hermione slipped easily, but before Ron could hide behind it, shining black ropes flew from the Death Eater’s wand-tip and bound Ron head to foot. The waitress was screaming as she ran for the door. Harry sent another Stunning Spell at the Death Eater with the twisted face who had tied Ron up, but the Death Eater swatted his spell away, which rebounded on the window and hit the waitress on the side of her head, who collapsed in front of the door. He shot another and another and another, with no idea what spell he was firing, he just kept raining spells to keep the Death Eater on the defensive.

Hermione emerged from the side of the fallen table for a quick second and yelled, “Petrificus Totalus!” The spell was aimed at the legs of the Death Eater, who fell forward like a statue to land with a crunching thud on the mess of broken china, table, and coffee.

“Stupefy.” He stunned the downed Death Eater just in case.

“D-diffindo,” She said, pointing her wand at Ron, who roared in pain as she slashed open the knee of his jeans, leaving a deep cut beneath, “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ron, my hand’s shaking! Diffindo!”

She released Ron from the binds and healed the cut and as they both collected their wits, they turned only to find Harry standing over and watching the two downed Death Eaters who had been defeated with an impassive gaze.

“That’s Dolohov.” Ron said his voice a little shaken, “I recognize him from the old wanted posters. I think the big one’s Thorfinn Rowle.”

“Never mind what they’re called!” Hermione said a little hysterically, “How did they find us? What are we going to do?” Somehow her panic seemed to clear his head.

“Lock the door.” He told her, “…and Ron, turn out the lights.”

He looked down at the paralyzed Dolohov, as Hermione waved her wand and the lock clicked close and Ron used the Deluminator to plunge the cafe into darkness.

“What are we going to do with them?” Ron whispered to Harry through the dark; then, even more quietly, “Kill them? They’d kill us. They had a good go just now.”

Hermione shuddered beside him and took a step backwards, so he just shook his head.

“We just need to wipe their memories,” He paused for a moment before explaining, “It’s better like that, it’ll throw them off the scent. If we killed them, it’d be obvious, we were here.”

“You’re the boss,” Ron sounded profoundly relieved, “But I’ve never done a Memory Charm.”

“Nor have I.” Hermione said, “But I know the theory.” She took a deep, calming breath, then pointed her wand at Dolohov’s forehead and said, “Obliviate.” At once, Dolohov’s eyes became unfocused and dreamy, much like Lockhart’s had.

“Brilliant!” He said clapping her on the back, “Take care of the other one and the waitress while Ron and I clear up.”

“Clear up?” Ron asked looking around at the partly destroyed café, “Why?”

“Don’t you think they might wonder what’s happened if they wake up and find themselves in a place that looks like it’s just been bombed?” He rolled his eyes a little.

“Oh right, yeah…”

Ron struggled for a moment before managing to extract his wand from his pocket, “It’s no wonder I can’t get it out, Hermione, you packed my old jeans, they’re tight.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Hermione hissed, and as she dragged the waitress out of sight of the windows, Harry heard her mutter a suggestion as to where Ron could stick his wand instead.

His mum’s suggestion of non-verbal spells being easier for him came to mind. He needed to learn it, he started practising right away. Reminding himself of Dumbledore’s ‘Reparo’ that had put the entire room back in order when recruiting Slughorn last year, he tried.

Feeling confident, he closed his mind for a moment and he thought to himself, ‘Reparo!’ Then he opened his eyes and gave a wide overlapping circular V-shaped wave of his wand. After coming from St Mungo’s this morning, he had felt like his spell-work had improved a little, or rather his power behind his spell seemed to have improved. It was subtle, but it made a difference.

He felt the magic leaving him and the spell worked, making him smile a little, but his grin dimmed when he realised that the effect wasn’t quite the same. His spell was weaker, much weaker than what he had hoped for, weaker than what it would have been if it had been verbal. While he didn’t think it would put the whole room back in order, he had hoped that at least it would repair some of the damage, but all it repaired was the table beside him. He realised that he would need a lot of practice before he is proficient, at least the spell hadn’t failed, so that was something he reckoned.

Sighing, he did it over and over again non-verbally, fixing small parts with each non-verbal attempt, until he and Ron cleared the mess and put the shop back to the way it was. It left him a bit more tired than he thought it would. Once the café was restored to its previous condition, they heaved the Death Eaters back into their booth and propped them up facing each other.

“But how did they find us so quickly?” Hermione asked, looking from one inert man to the other, “How did they know where we were?”

She turned to Harry, “How did you know? You didn’t even look at them. And back during the wedding too, you seemed to know.”

He raised his left hand and showed her the ring on his ring finger, but he didn’t let her inspect it, “The ring alerted me. Let’s get somewhere safe first, I’ll explain everything.”

Both Ron and Hermione looked conflicted but they agreed, “Okay.”

“We have to find out how they’re tracking us.” Hermione looked concerned, “You – you don’t think you’ve still got your Trace on you, do you, Harry? What if they found a way to extend it over the age of seventeen?”

Ron shook his head, “The Trace breaks at seventeen, that’s Wizarding law, you can’t put it on an adult.”

Harry didn’t believe Hermione, mum had told him that the Trace had broken when he reached the age of majority, just this morning, and he believed her. He agreed with Ron, if the Trace existed on him, then his mum’s magic might never have surfaced, he would still have the blood protection.

“As far as you know…” Hermione noted back, “What if the Death Eaters have found a way to put it on a seventeen-year-old?”

“But Harry hasn’t been near a Death Eater in the last twenty-four hours. Have you?”

Hermione did not reply. But the insinuation did hang in the air. What if someone had placed the Trace on him during his early morning excursion without him even knowing it? They had after all come looking for him at the Burrows before the wedding, and the Burrow itself was under the Fidelius protection. Is that how they had found him? He didn’t know. And frankly, he didn’t care. Whatever it was, they were tracking him and that got him thinking.

“If I can’t use magic, and you can’t use magic near me, without us giving away our position – then…” He began slowly.

“We’re not splitting up!” Hermione had guessed what he was about to say and she said firmly, glaring at him.

He sighed, “But you hav–”

Hermione grew red angry, “We’re not splitting up, Harry!”

Ron sensing the tension quickly stepped in between them to prevent a row, “We need a safe place to hide. Give us time to think things through.” Ron said to him.

“Fine. Then let’s go to Grimmauld Place.” He suggested and both Ron and Hermione gaped at him.

“Don’t be silly, Harry, Snape can get in there!”

Harry grinned at that, “Mr Weasley said the Order has placed some traps there for Snape. Besides, I’d very much like to see him try.” He once again raised his hand and showed them the ring, “It’s a Black family property and it’s under my control now.”

“But –” Hermione began to argue but he pressed on.

“Hermione, where else is there? It’s the best chance we’ve got. Snape’s only one Death Eater. If I’ve still got the Trace on me, we’ll have whole crowds of them on us wherever else we go. We need to go somewhere safe for the time being to think of what else we can do.”

That seemed to convince Ron, who looked ready to hop, but Hermione looked unconvinced, but had no argument, so they agreed. Releasing the spells on the Death Eaters and the waitress, they disapparated away just as they were stirring.

Chapter 3: Be Prepared

Chapter Text

Grimmauld Place –

Apparating to the old dilapidated looking house, they raced up the stone steps, and Harry tapped the front door once with his wand. They heard a series of metallic clicks and the clatter of a chain, the door swung open with a creak and a cold breeze washed over them. They quickly hurried over the threshold, not intent on being exposed out in the open.

As Harry closed the door behind them, the old-fashioned gas lamps sprang into life, casting a flickering yellow glow along the length of the hallway. It looked just as Harry remembered it: eerie, cobwebbed, the outlines of the house-elf heads on the wall throwing odd shadows up the staircase. Long dark curtains concealed the portrait of Sirius’s mother. The only thing that was out of place was the troll’s leg umbrella stand, which was lying on its side as if Tonks had just knocked it over again.

“I think somebody’s been in here,” Hermione whispered, pointing toward the stand, instantly pulling her wand out.

“That could’ve happened as the Order left,” Ron murmured back hopefully.

“So where are these jinxes they put up against Snape?” He asked them as he pulled his wand out.

“Maybe they’re only activated if he shows up?” Ron suggested.

Yet they remained close together on the doormat, their backs against the door, scared to move farther into the house without precaution.

“Well, we can’t stay here forever.” He decided and he took a tentative step forward.

“Severus Snape?”

Mad-Eye Moody’s voice whispered out of the darkness echoing all around them, making all three of them jump back in fright.

“We’re not Snape!” He croaked as his hands shivered, something whooshed over him like cold air and his tongue curled backwards on itself, making it impossible to speak. Before he had time to feel inside his mouth, however, his tongue had unravelled again.

The other two seemed to have experienced the same unpleasant sensation. Ron was retching air while Hermione stammered, “That m-must have b-been the T-Tongue-Tying Curse Mad-Eye set up for Snape!”

Gingerly, after another moment of silence to gather their wits, he took another step forward. Something shifted in the shadows at the end of the hall, and before any of them could say another word, a figure had risen out of the carpet, tall, dust-coloured, and terrible. Hermione screamed and so did Mrs Black, her curtains flying open; the grey figure was gliding toward them, faster and faster, its waist-length hair and beard streaming behind it, its face sunken, fleshless, with empty eyes sockets. Horribly familiar, dreadfully altered, it raised a wasted arm, pointing at Harry.

“No!” Harry shouted, and though he had raised his wand no spell occurred to him. Finally, he struggled out as it got closer, “Stupefy!”

His spell sailed through the figure as it approached them, “No! It wasn’t us! We didn’t kill you.”

On the word ‘kill’, the figure exploded in a great cloud of dust. Coughing, his eyes watering, he looked around to see Hermione crouched on the floor by the door with her arms over her head, and Ron, who was shaking from head to foot.

“Mudbloods, filth, stains of dishonour, taint of shame on the house of my fathers–”

“SHUT UP!” Harry bellowed, directing his wand at her, and with a bang and a burst of red sparks, the curtains swung shut again, silencing her.

“That…that was…” Hermione whimpered, as Ron helped her to her feet.

“Dumbledore? Yeah…” He said shakily, “…but it wasn’t really him, was it? Just something to scare Snape.”

“Before we go any farther, I think we’d better check.” She whispered and raised her wand and said, “Homenum Revelio.”

Nothing happened.

“Well, you’ve just had a big shock.” Ron said kindly, “What was that supposed to do?”

“It did what I meant it to do!” Hermione shot back rather crossly. “That was a spell to reveal human presence, and there’s nobody here except us!”

Hermione stepped forward and then said, “Let’s go upstairs.” And with that, they proceeded to go up to the first floor.

Hermione waved her wand to ignite the old gas lamps, then, shivering slightly in the drafty room, she perched on the sofa, her arms wrapped tightly around her. Ron crossed to the window and moved the heavy velvet curtains aside an inch to see outside.

“Can’t see anyone out there.” Ron reported, “And you’d think, if Harry still had a Trace on him, they’d have followed us here by now.” After all, Harry had just used two spells downstairs just moments ago.

“If it’s not the Trace, then it’s something else. They’re tracking us somehow. We still need to find out how.” Hermione chimed in slowly.

Her eyes fell on Harry whose Polyjuice disguise as Barney Weasley was wearing off. The redheaded plump boy was replaced with a tall, lanky figure with untidy black hair and green eyes. Harry quickly pulled his glasses out of his coat and wore them on his nose. She found him staring at the black signet ring on his finger. Harry was busy wondering why the ring hadn’t vibrated when Moody’s enchantment against Snape had kicked in. Maybe it knew that he wasn’t in any real danger.

The ring had saved their lives twice in the past few hours. He was so grateful that his mum had the foresight to make him go to Gringotts as soon as possible. After tonight, he wouldn’t be able to set foot anywhere near the bank. He was truly lucky, despite their dire circ*mstance, he understood his fortune and he was grateful.

Harry also idly wondered the timing of the ring’s warning. It began warning him even before the wedding. If the Ministry had fallen, then the battle would have gone on for at least a few hours. He assumed that the ring began warning him as soon as the conflict started.

“Harry,” Hermione’s voice broke him out of his musings. Looking up, he noticed her staring at him and so was Ron with one hand still holding the window curtain, “You said you’d explain.”

He only nodded as he opened the Gringotts bottomless bag and he upended it on the table, spilling out all the Galleons, sickles, knuts and wads of Pounds, “This is everything that I have. I took it all out of my vault this morning.”

Ron and Hermione were looking at the money with wide eyes, “How much is in here, mate?” Ron asked gobsmacked.

“Some four hundred thousand in Galleons and sickles and knuts, and about two million in pounds.” Hermione gasped, while Ron swallowed hard.

It took them a minute, Hermione finally asked, “How did you know that you had to take it all out today?”

“It’s a long story.” He sat on the couch and he asked, “Did I tell you both about how my mum’s sacrifice saved my life from the Killing Curse?”

Ron and Hermione looked unsure, she replied, “A little.”

“I know there’s some kind of blood magic spell involved and that’s why you had to stay with your blood relatives. Dumbledore extended the protection around the house?” Hermione said unsurely, “At least that’s how Dumbledore explained it to me when I protested about you going back to your home for the summer after the fourth year.”

A few things stood out to him at that moment. One was Hermione had protested about him going back to the Dursleys after the tournament, which meant that she knew how bad it was for him there as back as their fourth year, which was disconcerting, considering how much he had tried to hide it. He knew that she had told him how she had asked Dumbledore when he first came to Grimmauld Place, but he hadn’t quite believed her then. At least she had protested about it, he was grateful for that, so he also felt a bit guilty for chewing her out on account of not caring about him after the Dementor attack.

Secondly, his mind drifted to what she just said, he connected the dots then, what if Dumbledore knew about the Black ring and the blood-birth ritual? He wondered whether the ritual on the ring would have compromised the blood protection? After all, he had to live with someone who was his blood relative, and if his blood changed, would that have made the wards weaker. Is that why Dumbledore had kept it a secret from him?

Questions for another time, he decided.

“Okay, the gist of it is this, the day Voldemort attacked, my mum refused to step aside. So, he killed her.” He swallowed a little, “Her death left a blood protection on me. That’s why the Killing curse backfired, and why Quirrell couldn’t touch me back in our first year. That’s why he needed my blood to come back to life, to bypass that protection –”

Before he could go any further, Hermione stood up abruptly and stopped him, “Wait, wait…”

At his confused look, she gestured to her ear, “Listen!” She hissed. There was a noise of a car backfiring in the distance. Which meant that there was a chance that someone had just apparated in the nearby vicinity.

“Bloody hell!” Ron cursed.

They quickly rushed and were standing against the window, pulling the curtains aside a little more to see. Outside, there were four men all in black, clearly wizards. Two more men arrived out of thin air and joined the four, making a group of six.

His mind was once again in overdrive, he turned to Ron hurriedly, “Pack everything quickly. We need to leave.”

“Thank god!” Just as Ron nodded and was about to rush off, Hermione stopped them.

“Wait!” Hermione grabbed him and Ron both by the arm, and nodded to the window, “Look…, they haven’t moved.”

They just stared at the men outside in the darkness for a few long minutes and waited in pin-drop silence. Nothing happened.

“They can’t find the house.” She concluded a moment later.

He looked back through the window and realised that she was right. The Death Eaters were looking about, they looked as if they were still searching. “It must be the Fidelius. They know we’re here somehow, but I don’t think they know where we are, how to find us, or how to get in.” Hermione said vaguely.

Ron let out a heavy breath, “Phew!”

“For now –” he said making Ron frown as his relief was short-lived, “– what if they find a way through later?”

Hermione shook her head, “No, the Fidelius cannot be infiltrated like that. Someone has to give them access willingly.”

That left them all worried because Snape was no friend to them. If one of the Death Eaters went to Snape and if Snape told them the secret, they were coming inside. The implication hung in the air heavily.

“How are they tracking us?” Hermione asked looking furious, “You didn’t use any magic now. Did you?” Her voice seemed confused.

He shook his head, “No, I didn’t.”

Ron was the first one to voice it, “I don’t think we should stay here. If they find a way in here, or if Snape shows up, he’ll let them in, and we’ll…” Ron didn’t finish, he left the threat hanging.

He couldn’t help but agree, as much as it pained him to leave here, “Where will we go?”

“Shell Cottage,” Ron said, “It’s our aunt Muriel’s place. As kids, the family went there for weeks in the summer. Tonks and I, we apparated there last week when we transported you. Bill and Fleur were supposed to go there after the wedding. It’s protected by the Fidelius too. If we can’t go back home, maybe we can go there.”

He remembered Ron’s great-great-aunt Muriel vividly enough. But he couldn’t help but wonder what Ron was thinking, “You want us to intrude on Bill and Fleur’s wedding night?” Thinking back on Bill’s offer to help them, he was sure that Bill didn’t mean tonight or anytime soon for that matter.

Ron looked abashed and a little pink, “No! But what choice do we have?”

“No,” he said closing his eyes with a small shake of his head.

Ron was quick to protest, “Mate, but we-”

“No!” Hermione chimed in even more firmly than he had, and Ron huffed at being voted down.

“We’ll think of somewhere else.” She added to ease the tension.

He waited a moment before he said, “I still think we should split up. If they’re tracking me-”

Hermione shook her head at that and grabbed his arm, “We don’t know they’re tracking you. If they had, then they would have shown up as soon as you fired that Stunner against Mad-Eye’s spell downstairs. I’ve been thinking, you didn’t use any spell back at the café either.”

“But they’re doing it somehow.”

“And we’ll find out how.” Hermione was quick to say, “But making hasty decisions will not help.”

“I agree with her, mate.” Ron nodded to that, “I don’t think we should split up either.”

His eyes fell on Hermione, then at Ron and then at the window, “Fine.” He agreed.

“We’ll stay here tonight. Let’s not use the rooms. I have sleeping bags. We’ll camp right here. We’ll take turns keeping watch, in case they find a way in and we need to leave quickly.” Hermione made a plan, but he felt an unsureness in her voice and that did nothing to ease his nerves.

As Ron and Hermione began unpacking their things for the night, he once again glanced at the ring, which hadn’t vibrated when the Death Eaters had shown up outside. Did that mean, he wasn’t in danger? Or did it mean something else? Not knowing only frustrated him.

Dolohov screamed and his body spasmed at the tip of Voldemort’s wand. The same Torture curse that had driven Neville’s parents mad was at work. He had experienced it once under Voldemort, he knew what that was like and he wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone, but he couldn’t bring himself to sympathise for the Death Eaters’ fates. Nagini was however busy swallowing the dead body of Thorfinn Rowle, headfirst into the enlarged mouth of the snake. It almost felt like he was the one swallowing the corpse, his gag reflex kicked in and he felt sick.

Dolohov’s scream ended as Voldemort turned to another masked Death Eater, “Macnair!”

The masked Death Eater stepped forward and took a knee, “Milord.”

“Why did Potter visit St. Mungo’s?” Voldemort hissed.

“The healers confessed to having removed a magical binding on him, milord.” The Death Eater answered fearfully as though he expected to be punished.

“Crucio!” The scream of the Death Eater echoed in the chamber. It wasn’t Macnair who was being tortured, it was Dolohov.

“Do not worry. You will be useful. You will tell me what you know about Potter. We will break that memory charm.”

“Crucio!” Voldemort’s hand jerked as he twisted the white wand in his pale hand, his hissing voice echoed throughout the chamber and many of his followers lowered their gaze.

In an explosion of pain, he felt the anger reverberating through the scar. He woke up with heavy breaths, his throat was parched. The sky was still dark outside, meaning it was still very early in the morning, and he knew that he couldn’t have gotten more than a few hours of sleep. Voldemort was killing and torturing his own men for failing to capture him. The Horcrux in his head ached and he hated that it was in his head. As much as he knew that those two Death Eaters probably deserved what they got, he couldn’t help but be sickened by the sight of it.

Sitting up from his sleeping bag, he looked at Ron who was peacefully snoring beside him. Just as they were settling down last night, Mr Weasley’s Patronus came flying to them with a message of them being safe and being put under surveillance. Ron had been so relieved that he fell asleep not long after.

Hermione who had slept on the couch wasn’t there. It was her turn to keep watch. She was sitting on the windowsill, the curtains were drawn apart, her eyes closed, her hands around her knees holding them close to her chest, wand still gripped in her hand.

He was thankful that she was resting because he didn’t want to explain to her what was happening with Voldemort and the Death Eaters who had attacked them just hours before. She would most likely lecture him that he cannot keep letting Voldemort inside, as if he had any real control of that in his sleep.

Sighing softly, he got up and went to the bathroom. Splashing his face with cold water gave him a jolt and shook him awake and helped him clear his head a little. The pain on his forehead dulled with every passing second. As he made his way back, he decided that he had enough sleep for one night and he headed to the staircase and then climbed upstairs.

On the second-floor landing, he slowly walked down the corridor, observing. The wardrobe doors stood open and the bedclothes had been ripped back. Harry remembered the overturned troll leg downstairs. Somebody had searched the house since the Order had left. Snape? Or perhaps Mundungus? Mundungus had pilfered plenty from this house after Sirius died. Harry’s gaze wandered to the portrait that sometimes, contained Phineas Nigellus Black, Sirius’s great-great-grandfather, but it was empty, showing nothing but a stretch of a muddy backdrop. Phineas Nigellus was evidently spending the night in the headmaster’s study at Hogwarts.

The third door to the left, the library door was ajar, but inside it looked dusty and untouched. Whoever it was that had ransacked the house hadn’t bothered with the books.

Waving his wand over the gas lamp that immediately lit up the library, he immediately got to work. He went to shelves and began searching while ignoring that dull ache in his scar. Astral Projection, he took the first four books with the name of Astral and went to the table to set them down. There were so many things he wanted to learn, but he wanted to begin with Astral Projection first.

Turning the book over, he went to the bibliography and alphabetically searched the names. There was nothing in the first two books, but on the third book, he found the word ‘Astral Travel’ with the page number on the side ‘76’.

Flipping the pages, he found the topic he was looking for. It explained the basic idea of the topic in theory, but there were no spells or potions, nothing that even remotely connected to practical application, it even implied that practical application was impossible, but he knew that it was possible, so he closed the book and went to the next one.

Going over one book after another, he found very little on the topic as a whole. It was around five-thirty in the morning that a frantic Hermione came looking for him in the library.

“Harry! Harry!”

“Yeah…!” He called as he was putting the books back on the shelf, “What’s happened?”

“We woke up and didn’t know where you were!” Hermione said breathlessly, “We thought you’d left.”

He sighed with a small smile, “I’m right here.”

“RON! I’ve found him!” Hermione called out to Ron.

“Whaaat?” Ron’s voice echoed from the floors below.

Hermione huffed and almost yelled, “I’ve found him!”

“Good! Tell him, he’s a git!” Ron shouted back.

“Harry, please don’t just disappear like that, we were terrified!” She gazed at him intently.

He nodded at that quietly, “I’ll keep that in mind.” He replied softly.

“What are you doing here anyway?” She asked curiously.

He just gave her a look, “Studying.” He said easily.

“You?” She blurted out and he narrowed his eyes at her.

“What’s the supposed to mean?” He snapped a little irritated from his lack of sleep, the dull ache in his scar and Hermione’s panic.

Hermione looked abashed a little, “I mean, I didn’t expect you here, so I was just wondering.”

Granted, he had skived off a little, okay his fair share of lessons with Ron in school, but was he that bad? Maybe he was. A voice that sounded oddly like his mum automatically answered the question, which didn’t help. He just sighed, no wonder his mum thought he needed to study harder, “What do you want, Hermione?” It wasn’t his turn to keep watch, he had taken the first watch and he had stayed up till one in the morning, Hermione was second and now it was Ron’s turn.

“I’m sorry, Harry, I just-”

He interrupted her feeling guilty, “It’s nothing. Forget it.”

There was a moment of silence during which he kept scanning the books on the shelves.

“Harry, I think I know how they’re tracking us.” She said seriously, now that got his full attention.

“Come on, I’ll show you.” She said as she left.

Soon enough, Ron was yawning beside him as they were all standing by the window looking out on the empty street. It was still very early and barely anyone was wandering outside, some cars passed by but nothing much. Hermione had brought them to prove her discovery.

“Last night, I thought back and I tested out a theory. They’re not tracking you, Harry.” Hermione began, “Remember at the café? You never used any spells. And you didn’t use any spells last night when the Death Eaters came either. But when you did use spells in the hallway downstairs, they didn’t come looking for us. That means they weren’t tracking your use of magic; they were tracking something else.”

“I ran everything, over and over again in my mind. The two times they came was when we said you-know-who’s name.” She began, “Last night, I started thinking what they could use to track us, if not the Trace. I thought of all the tracking spells that I know of, that’s how I came to thinking exactly about what we were doing at the time when they managed to track us. Both times, we were just talking, that could have been a coincidence. Then I thought about what we were talking about? I ran the conversations in my head and the two times they came, Harry – you said you-know-who’s name shortly before.”

Ron was the first one to ask, “Blimey, you’re saying they’re tracking the name?”

“Yes.” She said sharply.

“Watch, I’ll prove it.” She said to them as she pointed her head out the window with a nod and then she said, “Voldemort!”

A few moments later, there were two back-to-back noises of cars backfiring, indicating people apparating nearby. And suddenly two men clad in black were on the pavement, standing up and observing the house, or at least where the house would have been if they could see it. The men quickly hid under spells and became unnoticeable.

“When we say that name out loud, they can find us.” Hermione surmised and Harry looked at the discovery in wide-eyed shock, so did Ron whose jaw hung agape.

She turned to him, “Last night, when you said the name, the Death Eaters came to the café, and when you said the name here, the Death Eaters came here. Both times, it was right after we said the name that they came.”

He stepped back and looked a little relieved, “They’re not tracking me. They’re tracking whoever is bold enough to say the name.” The relief quickly turned into a grimace.

“Exactly!” Hermione exclaimed looking equally relieved and happy, “We’ve always wondered why everyone’s so afraid to say the name. Why he’s called He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named and You-Know-Who, instead of the name he gave himself. I think this is why.” With that, she handed him a book that was bookmarked.

He opened the bookmarked page and he read the title of the chapter, “Taboo Curse?”

“I think so.” Hermione just nodded at that, “There was a rumour I heard early on in the first year from Penelope, that you-know-who appeared before anyone who said his name. I just thought of it as a myth back then, but all myths have some truth behind it. Last night, when I was thinking about it, suddenly it made sense. I think this is how the Death Eaters attacked people during the first war. I think that’s why everyone was so bloody afraid of even saying his name years later. I think there’s Taboo Curse placed on the name itself, thereby jinxing it.”

Ron looked a little shaken, “Then we don’t say the name, right? We can’t say the name. We shouldn’t.”

Harry frowned at that and huffed, “If we’re afraid to even say his name. How are we supposed to hunt the Horcruxes?”

Hermione looked torn herself, because she believed that fearing a name was like fearing the thing itself, but her rational part prevailed, “You know we can’t. Be practical, Harry.”

“We know his real name. We can just call him that. I tested it out. They’re not tracking that. Riddle. We’ll just say, Riddle.” She quickly offered a solution, “It’s the next best thing.”

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t argue with either of them on this. If this is what it took to end the war, then that’s what he’ll do.

“Fine. We won’t say the name anymore. We call him Riddle.” Both Ron and Hermione looked relieved when he agreed with them on that.

He just turned and headed back to the library, but stopped at the door looking back, “Come to the library. I never finished telling you about what happened yesterday.”

Hermione was looking at the ring, as though she was memorising it. Ron was yawning for the umpteenth time, still looking groggy in his seat.

He had told them about his mum’s magic, about meeting her in the astral form, her pieces of advice, the reason for his trip to Gringotts, the ring and the blood-birth ritual on the ring. He hadn’t told them about the scar or the Horcrux or about the suspicions regarding Dumbledore, he didn’t need their pity or hysteria right now. He promised himself to look for the right time to bring it up.

The shock, surprise and the unreal sensation of the story were fading away, he could tell from their easing expressions. Hermione’s back-to-back questions about his mum and astral projection helped break the mood. It could be the hottest day or the coldest night, nothing will ever change his friend’s thirst for knowledge.

Hermione’s questions eventually went off course and now she was looking at his ring, “The ring vibrates in warning whenever there is danger nearby?”

He thought about that for a moment, he still wasn’t sure about that, “I don’t know for sure, but I think so. It saved our lives twice yesterday, so…”

She nodded gratefully at that, “Did it vibrate during the wedding?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“When exactly?”

He thought for a moment longer, “First, when I gifted the necklace to Fleur, but it stopped a moment later. Then it started again right after the ceremony ended.”

Ron tilted his head slightly, "What necklace?"

Harry simply shrugged, "I got them both a present for the wedding when I went out yesterday morning."

“And at the café?” She asked, bringing his attention back to the topic at hand, and he just gave a nod.

“Did it warn you last night when the Death Eaters apparated in front of the house?” Hermione looked so intrigued.

“No,” He said quickly shaking his head, he had thought about that too, “I-I don’t think so. Neither did it warn me against Moody’s spell downstairs.”

“That’s interesting. It can tell when we were in real danger and when we were not.” She was quick to surmise, “It must have realised that we were safe. That could explain why it didn’t warn you. This is really advanced magic, Harry.”

“What does it feel like? When it’s warning you.” She asked looking for more details.

Harry tried to remember that feeling, and he replied, “Anxious, panic, – a feeling that something’s wrong.”

Hermione quickly penned it all down on a piece of parchment and looked at him with a look he couldn’t quite place.

“We have to find what this Blood-Birth spell is...” Hermione frowned at him, “You could have at least told us before wearing it.”

He shook his head at that, “I didn’t have a choice. I had to sign documents after wearing it, to claim Sirius’s inheritance.”

“You could have taken us with you.” She narrowed her eyes.

“Wake you both up early morning before the wedding and what? Go to Gringotts together? No. We would’ve had a discussion, that would’ve gotten the entire Order involved. And they would have never allowed us to go. And if I hadn’t gone yesterday, I couldn’t have gone at all, the Ministry fell.” He reasoned with her. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought of that before going, he had, but he’d known that going alone would have been faster.

“But still,” Hermione stopped herself and sighed, “You could have told us.”

“Would you have agreed about me going alone?” He asked narrowing his eyes at her.

Hermione glared back at him, “Of course not. But just because you know what we’ll say doesn’t mean that you don’t have to ask us.”

“Everything went well, Hermione.” He tiredly breathed; he didn’t want to argue anymore.

Hermione looked like she wanted to say something but stopped herself, “Fine. Let’s not dwell on that.” She said in a clipped tone.

“Anyway…” She let his hand go, “We’re at the right place. There’s bound to be some book here that explains the spells and charms imbued in the ring. I’ll help you.”

Thankful for the help, he nodded, but he added, “We also need to learn about something called blood malediction. The goblin mentioned it when I asked about the blood stored on the ring. It didn’t sound like good news.”

“We’ll look for that too,” Hermione promised him tiredly.

‘Growl!’ Ron’s stomach growled loudly making them all smile simultaneously. Ron stood up awkwardly, “I’ll put the kettle on.” Keen on getting out of the room, not wanting to see them argue any longer.

“We need to make runs, get some food and groceries. Stock them up.” She added before Ron could leave.

“We have money, so we don’t have to worry about buying.” He said agreeing with her, “How will we store it?” He asked her.

Hermione had an answer to that as well, “Stasis Charm. It’ll keep them fresh for a while.”

“Will you teach it to me later?” He asked as Ron walked out of the library and headed downstairs to the kitchen.

At her bewildered look, he explained, “We all need to learn it. To take care of ourselves. In case we need to split up.”

She looked like she was about to protest so he amended that quickly, “I know, I know, we’re not splitting up. But just in case that we needed to; it would be useful.”

“Fine.” She agreed grudgingly.

The next two days went by quickly. He found Sirius’s room and found a letter that his mum had written to Sirius long ago, along with a picture of him and his dad, it was torn in half and he was pretty sure that it was his mum’s face that had been torn off. He didn’t know what to think of it. The incomplete letter and the picture reminded him of them, but it didn’t make him pine. He remembered his mum, the way she talked, the way she laughed and frowned, the way she looked at him with love, it wasn’t just an image he had to picture anymore, he remembered her, the real her. And he was thankful for that.

He was yet to open Sirius’s letter, even though it killed him to not open and find out, he couldn’t bring himself to open it. The fact that Death Eaters were constantly patrolling the square outside the house didn’t help any of their moods inside.

The excess time he had on his hands, he spent it in the library often with Hermione, learning new spells, reading whatever books he could get his hands on while practising new spells and mastering old ones to try and perform it nonverbally.

Last night, after a long-heated debate, Hermione went alone to get the groceries. Hermione had borrowed his invisibility cloak before leaving the house. She had insisted that she had to go alone, that even two people under the cloak was not wise in case they needed to make a run for it, besides they weren’t children anymore and fitting even two people under the cloak would be a task. Ron didn’t know anything much about buying groceries in muggle London, so he couldn’t go. And Harry Potter roaming outside in London under an invisibility cloak was just asking for trouble. They were at an impasse for a while there, he and Ron had stood firm in the idea that if she had to go then all three of them would go together. However, Hermione was adamant that she would have to go alone.

In the end, she had worn them down and outplayed them. By the second meagre lunch, unsurprisingly a very hungry Ron had effortlessly folded under the pressure which he frankly should have seen coming a mile away but hadn’t, at which point the argument was lost.

He had briefly considered asking Dobby’s help to shop for groceries, but Dobby only went to magical areas around Hogsmeade, finding the elf in London would be odd considering that Dobby worked at Hogwarts and the school wasn’t even open yet. Besides, he didn’t want to pull Dobby out of the side mission to find the Potter elves. He needed to find the Potter Estate, the Greenwell Mansion, staying at Grimmauld was not a long-term solution, he needed options. And Kreacher was recognisable as the Black family elf, so sending Kreacher to get groceries was unwise. It had been nerve-wracking as hell, even though, she was only gone for like thirty-five minutes. But Hermione had safely returned with so many groceries to last them for weeks. Now that all the food was safely charmed and stored, he had a hobby. Cooking.

Hermione was a good cook, but he was better. He never thought that he would ever be thankful for all the cooking he had done for the Dursleys over the years. But cooking when coupled with the accuracy of potion-making was an extremely useful skill to have in their current situation. Conserving as many ingredients as he possibly can, while making something delicious, was a challenge and he loved it. It also kept his mind off of troubling things.

Tonight, he made chicken and mushroom pie for them all. He had been a little worried handling the old-fashioned oven in the house, the piece of equipment was a black-leaded Victorian style kitchen worktop with a fireplace at the centre. He and Hermione had to properly learn how to handle it, thankfully Ron had seen his mum work with something similar in Shell Cottage, so he had some very useful insights which helped immensely.

It was almost eleven, Ron was playing with his Deluminator. Hermione was going through four open books at once, while he was reading about magic and its intricate connection to the soul. His mum had been right about souls containing the memories of a person. Something Remus once said years ago came back to him as he read the passage once again. A Dementor’s Kiss left its victim without a soul, alive in body but stripped of all memories and identity. He was a little miffed that he had forgotten that little detail.

“Harry…” Hermione called not even taking her eyes off the books, “Come here. I’ve found you a spell.”

He quickly stood up and circled the desk towards her, “Is it about Astral Projection?”

She shook her head, “No, but that’s what I was looking for when I found this.”

“Wait a minute – what am I looking at?” He asked searching over her shoulder and onto the books.

“This,” she placed her hand on the second book on the left-hand side.

Ron came over and peeked over his shoulder as he took the book and started reading, it took him a moment, “Animus?” He both said and asked.

Hermione turned the chair sideways and she nodded, “The Spell of Animus. The Mind.”

He gleaned the content on the page, it only made vague sense, “This says something about expansion and mind magic.”

“Oh, right.” She corrected, “Go back three pages, you need to read it in full to get a clear understanding. It’s a tough read.”

Harry nodded as he flipped the pages and he started reading as he paced back and forth. Some books were tough to read, the authors often wrote it from their understanding and so they often went into examples to explore it and its elaborations in the middle. He had come across two such books in the last two days alone.

Ron huffed a sigh, “Come on, Hermione. Can’t you just explain it?”

Hermione gave Ron a stare before she began, “Basically, what it says is that the spell affects our six senses. Sight, Sound, Smell, Taste, Touch and Perception. The Animus spell mostly circles around our sixth sense, our perception of time and thought. It essentially expands the mind.”

“Expand it how?” Ron asked almost sounding indifferent.

Ron’s lack of interest made her frown, but she explained nonetheless, “The spell was developed by a wizard Silvanus Dewhurst in 1748, who went blind due to a poisoning attempt on his life. He developed the spell to help himself to be more functional in the later years of his life. The spell is almost like clairvoyance, but not quite to such an extreme. It helps improve our danger sense, or reactionary instinct, our sense of balance.”

“Now was that so hard?” Ron shrugged carelessly.

That comment quickly started it, Hermione was quick to snap, “Me explaining it to you is not the point, Ron! The point is you read it yourself from the official text to get a different perspective, maybe you’ll think about something that I can’t, or maybe see something I missed. We’re doing this by trial and error, three minds working together is always better than one!”

“Oh, please. You always think of everything.” Ron replied easily.

Harry, meanwhile winced at that comment, he was certain that Ron meant that as a compliment, but the way he said it was dismissive, and that was not quite how he would have put it. He briefly wondered if Ron even fully read the book about charming witches, he had so magnanimously gifted him. With the emotional range of a teaspoon, he was starting to see why Hermione thought that about Ron.

Hermione’s jaw clenched as she folded her hands, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Normally, he would have stayed out of it, or simply left them to bicker, because if he took sides, it always ended badly for him, he had learned that lesson early on. But he wanted to get a handle on this spell before bed, so he wayed in at that point soothingly, “What he meant is that you’re always insightful, and it’s unlikely that you missed anything. It’s us, Hermione, we’re not that bright.”

Hermione and Ron both recognised his attempt at diffusing what would have erupted into an argument. Ron looked a little abashed, while Hermione just bit her lips and frowned at the boys. Willing to let it go, both parties stayed silent.

As a distraction, Harry pointed at a passage on the first page and told her, “The spell looks complicated. And it says there are side-effects.”

Hermione nodded agreeing as she added, “Yes, I wanted to mention that before we start learning.”

“There is a sort of an initial side-effect.” She hesitated, “The spell expands the reach of our mind and thereby all our senses, but it mostly expands on our sixth sense of perception.”

“One of the things our brain automatically always does is, for example, regulate our breathing, run our autonomic functions, essentially filter out all the necessary things happening in our body away from conscious thought, so that we can actually think. Breathing is an essential part of living, we can’t skip that, if our brain didn’t automatically do that in the background, we’ll have to think and do that manually. And that’s all we’ll be thinking about. We’ll have absolutely no time for anything else but that.” She explained carefully.

Harry went back to his seat around the table and he asked, “Are you saying that – the spell will just be a…distraction?”

“Initially, yes.” She agreed, “The spell will expand the mind’s functionality past our inborn mental barriers and gives us hold over our senses, a real hold. It will be distracting and overwhelming at first, but it will not last. Once we get used to that, we can master it and then the benefits of the spell outweigh the risks.”

“How long will it take?” He asked cautiously, “-to, to get used to it?”

Hermione thought for a moment, “The book isn’t very clear on that. I think a few months at the very least. But I do know that with prolonged use of the spell, the effects will eventually become permanent and not just under the influence of the spell.”

“Hermione, I don’t know,” Ron said it first, which earned him a glare.

He just thought about it, ‘Learn anything you can find, anyway that you need’, he remembered his mum advising that. What was the harm in learning this? They were going to be stuck inside this house for some time now. If it worked, then it will be useful, if not, then no harm done. Any knowledge would help.

“I say, we give it a try.” He may have sounded a tad bit unsure, but he said it firmly enough that Hermione breathed in relief while Ron frowned.

Ron looked as though he wanted to say something but thankfully chose not to. Hermione didn’t notice it, so he asked, “So, where do we start?”

Hermione handed him the book, “We start with this. You two read it carefully before we begin, I don’t want to hear any of you – complain later on.” She specifically shot Ron a look.

Harry sighed as he took it, turned the pages and started reading it right away. Ron who looked appalled at the idea of more reading and quickly decided to turn in for the night, “Count me out. I need some shut-eye.” Feigning a yawn, Ron quickly pocketed his Deluminator and vacated the premises to avoid Hermione’s ire.

Huffing, she sat back down on her seat and stared at Harry for a few long moments before she went back to her own reading. She didn’t know what to make of this sudden change in Harry, who was more than a little willing to sit down patiently and do some studying. Harry usually had that energy when he studied, the one she often sensed, like he studied because he had to not because he wanted to, that was missing now. Was this change because of Lily Potter? Most likely. It was only rational to assume that, the event and the timing of his change, coincided. Maybe, Lily Potter, who had been a very bright witch was disappointed in Harry’s habits, it would make sense for why Harry might suddenly want to prove himself worthy in his mother’s eyes and study as a result. If that was the case, she was glad. But she didn’t exactly know how to process this. They simply sat and read in silence until they both eventually turned in.

Harry woke up around half-past three. Nursing a headache, he couldn’t go back to sleep again. Deciding that sleep was a lost cause, he left his bedroom in his loose trousers. In the kitchen, the cup of tea helped dull the pain and vanished that grogginess.

Sitting alone in the kitchen, early in the morning, he slowly took that letter Sirius had left him in the will. He held it in his hand and stared at it, trying to make a decision. He didn’t want it to be like the mirror, having it and not using it, he wanted to know the contents inside.

Ripping open the envelope, he pulled the letter out and placed it on the table, under the light. He instantly recognised Sirius’s untidy scrawl on the parchment.

To the Son of Prongs

Hey, pup. I’m updating the letter again. Not that you would know, because I’m updating it every month, and you’ll probably never read any of it. Anyway, in case you’re reading this, then something happened to me and this is my last message to you.

There was no weight in the way Sirius wrote that. Almost as if he was fully convinced that he was going to update this one with a new one soon enough, that this letter didn’t matter. Except it had.

I know things have been difficult between us. I’m sorry about that. I know I’ve failed you as a godfather. I’m supposed to be the one protecting you, but I’ve done a piss poor job at that until now. I’m sorry. I was never any good around children, Andy used to say that about me when I used to babysit Dora, I didn’t believe her then, but I believe her now. Then again, don’t take Andy too seriously, I think she’s just being bitter, I’ll freely admit that I was the one who taught Dora all the things that made her a nightmare around the house.

He could picture Sirius chuckling as he wrote this. He couldn’t help but feel that sting.

On a Sirius note (see what I did there? Oh, I know it’s lame but let me have this), I know, you’re having trouble with Occulumency, I was never any good at it myself so don’t beat yourself up over it. Albus has a way of getting under your skin, don’t let him. All Black family children had to learn mind magic from the age of five, my grandfather dared to make it mandatory, can you believe that old coot? Anyway, since Severus is refusing to teach you, good riddance, I’d say. I’ll be teaching you myself this summer. I’ve been reading up on it and I’m already brushing up on my Occulumency with the Midas Occulumency technique. I swear I’ll be good at it by the time school ends. Don’t worry, I have a backup plan. I’m also charming a new pair of specs for you, one that would deflect all external Legilimency attacks, it won’t help you much against whatever connection you have with Voldy, but I guarantee you that it’ll be bloody useful against Death Eaters.

Harry got the feeling that Sirius was writing everything he wanted to talk to him about. Stuck inside the house alone, only meeting people during Order meetings. He must have been so lonely that he wrote letters meant for him as a way of having a conversation. A cathartic habit, it seemed like. It weighed on his heart.

I’m also making plans for this summer; I’ll be whisking you off to a certain island in the Caribbean. You need a vacation. Albus, Molly and the Order of Tossers can go to hell for all I care. I arranged the destination trip for Prongs and Lils for their honeymoon, so it's tradition. Trust me on this, there’s nothing on this planet that two months under the hot sun on a sandy beach, surrounded by bikini-clad witches cannot solve. I think we’ve both earned that much. I know what you’ll say, but don’t worry, I’ll have all the details worked out by the time the term ends.

I’m also building a new bike for your birthday. I told Hagrid to keep the one I gave him in 81. The new one’s a 650cc TR65 Thunderbird, I had an eye on it before they chucked me in Azkaban. Now, I got one, it’s a bit used, but it’ll do. I’m almost done enchanting it, when I’m done it’ll be as good as new. I used the same series of spells that Prongs and I used on our old one back in 76. I can’t wait for you to take your first ride on it.

He felt Sirius’s excitement behind the words, that jittery shake of the quill that sprayed the parchment with small droplets at the end of each sentence. And that just broke him. He immediately felt a deep pain in his head, like his whole head was heavier than ever before. His headache was back with a vengeance.

You’ll probably never read this and I prefer it that way because I want to surprise you on your birthday and see the look on your face. I can almost imagine it. I’ll be waiting. Just come home, pup.

Love

Padfoot

By the end of it, he was holding his head in his hands, sobbing inaudibly, trying his best to keep the silence in the house. What had he done? It was all his fault. He had robbed the life of a man who had no intention of dying, a tortured man who hadn’t comprehended that death would come for him anytime soon, even though he wrote letters that were supposed to be read after his death.

Not only had he robbed Sirius of his life, but he had also robbed himself of a life that he would have loved. And in the end, the biggest enemy of his happiness was himself. Not Voldemort, not Dumbledore, himself. That was a harsh lesson to absorb. He always took responsibility and he held himself accountable, he always tried, but deep down some part of his heart knew that things weren’t his sole fault. But this was different, this was on him, Sirius’s death was his fault, his recklessness had been what caused it and there was no denying it.

“Harry,” A soft voice broke through and he looked up with his tear-stricken face and saw Hermione at the doorframe, staring at him in obvious concern.

Chapter 4: Revelations

Chapter Text

Grimmauld Place –

She cooked them some mashed potatoes, with peas and sausages for supper. There were no complaints around the table, but as much as she loathed to agree, she liked Harry’s cooking better than hers. Harry had more experience cooking than she did, he had been doing it for his horrible relatives since he was old enough to reach the stove, while her mum rarely allowed her to cook. She also didn’t feel comfortable working over the open fireplace in the old-fashioned kitchen.

Speaking of Harry, her gaze drifted to him sitting across her on the other end of the table. Last night, when she had found Harry in the kitchen, sobbing in the silence of the night, it broke her heart. In that moment of solemnity, she had finally clued in on something. She finally saw the true extent of the pressure Harry was under, not just what slipped out of his façade of calm at pressing times. The sheer pressure that was constantly pressed on him, that made him cry in secret, and forced him to keep his calm in the face of it all in front of others. She hated the fact that he felt the need to hide it from them.

After reading Sirius’s letter herself, she had to bite down on her emotions and not cry herself. She had to be strong for him, whether he expected her to be or not. She had insisted that he went to bed. When he hadn’t listened, she had no choice but to put him under a sleep spell and levitate him to his room. As an added protection, she had placed a dream-eating spell to help him sleep better, while it may not be as powerful as the dreamless sleep potion, it was still more than enough to get the job done.

Ron who had stumbled upon her levitating Harry to his room had taken a look at the letter. Sirius’s letter had made Ron just as miserable as Harry. Although, she assumed that it was more due to Sirius’s disparaging comments about the Order, Dumbledore and Molly, and she couldn’t blame him for that, especially after knowing how much the Weasleys had risked helping Harry. Sirius may have had his reasons for feeling that way, but it didn’t mean that they had to agree with him.

Harry had slept through the day and she didn’t blame him for it, she would have done the same. The sun was once again set on the horizon and they were here. Even though he was now washed and clean, Harry still looked miserable, impassive on the surface but his silence said it all. The silence between them was killing them. Only the noises of their chewing and the moving cutlery prevailed in the room as they ate, Ron’s abhorrent table manners, Harry’s subdued soft movement, and her well-practised etiquettes. That was all that prevailed.

She waited until Harry finished his dinner before she decided to broach the subject, because she didn’t want him to feel cornered and lose his appetite, “Um, Harry?”

He didn’t say anything, he just looked up at her, staring intently.

“How are you feeling?” The moment she asked, she knew that it was the wrong thing to ask.

“Fine,” he said gruffly looking back down on the plate.

It was such a typical response from Harry, her eyes fell on Ron who was also frowning at him. Ron hesitated but slowly began, “Mate, I know it’s-”

“I said, I’m fine.” Harry looked stoic, but she saw the irritation in his eyes.

“Okay,” She agreed to that, much to Ron’s shock.

As much as she wanted to snap at her thick-headed best friend for being broody, she knew that this was a time to be sensitive and not hardhanded. She had tried putting herself in his shoes, she failed, she couldn’t imagine what it must be like for him. First meeting his mum’s soul, which was quite unbelievable and she still didn’t know if it had actually happened or if he had merely dreamt it. Then the Ministry had fallen, then they had to come here and hadn’t felt any safer, as if that wasn’t enough, he had found his mum’s letter in Sirius’s trashed room and now Sirius’s last letter to him. Last night, even she had cried for her friend a bit before drifting off.

That’s why she knew that they needed a different approach at this, so she simply nodded in agreement and repeated, “Okay.”

“I was wondering what happened to the specs and the bike Sirius was building for you.” Just as she mentioned it, Harry stilled for a moment, immediately sitting up straight and staring at her, as though he was just now remembering it.

She suppressed a smile that threatened to spill out. It was a bit manipulative, but the situation called for it.

“I don’t know.” He said slowly.

She stared back at him, “It would be useful. Don’t you think?”

“I reckon –” Harry muttered as he pulled out the letter from his pocket, which she assumed he must have gotten back from Ron. He shoved the empty plate aside and placed the letter on the table as he read it. It took him a minute, where he read it with extreme focus and then he looked up at them.

“Do you think it was stolen along with the rest of the things?” Harry asked now sounding angry, “Mundungus?” He spat.

“Let’s not jump to conclusions…” She replied almost immediately, “Enchanting a motorbike would take quite a bit of time and open space and specialised tools, it’s after all a non-magically made product with hundreds of moving parts. Sirius must have worked on it somewhere for some time, perhaps if we find the room where he worked, then we can find out what happened to it.”

Ron was nodding in agreement, “We’ll get started tonight. Don’t worry, mate. We’ll find it.”

Harry who was strangely silent, finally said after a moment, “I have a better idea.”

“Kreacher!” He called, startling her a little.

It was a brilliant idea. Kreacher would know where Sirius had spent his days better than anyone, especially since Sirius had done his best to ignore the existence of the elf and because the elf had spied on Sirius for Narcissa Malfoy.

With a pop, the withered old elf stood between Harry’s and Ron’s seats, “Master,” croaked Kreacher in his bullfrog’s voice, and he bowed low; muttering to his knees, “…back in my Mistress’s old house with the blood-traitor Weasley and the Mudblood–”

She saw him clenching his fists in rage, “I forbid you to call anyone ’blood traitor’ or ’Mudblood, Kreacher!” He growled at the old elf.

“Yes, Master,” Kreacher croaked again, the elf’s fearful eyes stuck on the Black ring on his finger.

“Before Sirius died, where did he spend most of his time? I order you to tell me the truth.”

She watched eagerly as Kreacher gave Harry a look and said, “In the attic, Master.”

In an instant, Harry was up, running up the stairs to the topmost level. She followed quickly but had a hard time keeping up with him, Ron who was behind her was panting just as heavy as she was. She called out for him, but he wasn’t stopping. When they reached the top, Harry wasn’t waiting for them, instead, he was at the far end of the corridor, pointing his wand at the ceiling. Taking a breath, she hurried to him and caught up with him just in time as the ceiling opened and the ladder swung down in an arc and landed on the ground before his feet.

“Wait, Harry,” She breathed hard for a moment as Ron caught up with them.

Harry, however, was impatient, “Let’s go.”

“Wait, just give us a moment to catch our breaths.” He just nodded but looked anxious.

“Take your time. Lumos,” He muttered as he bit the lit wand in his mouth before he climbed up the ladder into the dark attic without warning.

“Mate –” Ron’s calls were ignored.

Ron sighing heavily followed after Harry. She went last. Still feeling out of breath, she got two steps up on the ladder and undid the spell that had brought the ladder down and the pulley mechanism lifted her automatically into the attic like an elevator. By the time she climbed up, Harry had already lit the gas lamps in the attic, lighting up the dingy space with slanting walls.

It was a long room, but not too wide, with a pathway at the centre. The attic space was filled with items and almost all of them were covered in white sheets. As Harry walked to the far end of the space and Ron stood there at the centre scanning all around, she went to the skylight and peered outside onto the street, where she noticed a barely concealed Death Eater.

Ron was the first one to say it, “Well, there’s nothing here.”

She looked about at the attic and realised that he was right. Harry was still searching with a hint of desperation in his movements, muttering ‘Revelio’ left and right. Everything was covered in white sheets, dust-covered and cobwebbed. The one thing that stood out in the sea of white was the uncovered brown trunk, it stood out a little away from the rest of the things as all the other things were pushed to the side of the room, but the trunk was closer to the pathway. It was covered in a layer of dust, but not by white like all the rest, meaning that it was used, ‘Could it be?’

“That box,” She pointed out, gaining both the boys’ attention on the box, “– it isn’t covered like the rest. It looks used.”

She went over to the box and pointed her wand at it, “Cistem Aperio…”

The box’s locks opened and the heavy cover flew open and fell on the other side. Just as she had suspected, the space inside was endless. Harry who came up to her grinned for the first time today, realising what she had surmised herself, “Brilliant, Hermione!”

“Is that what I think it is?” Ron asked coming behind them to peer into the box.

“Yes, Ron, it’s an expanded trunk. If Sirius spent his time in here as Kreacher said, he likely used the trunk as his workspace – there isn’t much room in here. He could expand the inner space of the trunk however much he wanted. The attic and trunk itself are well away from the others in the Order, so they won’t likely look for him in there, allowing him to work peacefully in secret.”

Harry agreed with her eagerly, “I think this is it. I’ll go first.”

Before she could protest, Harry was already putting his leg inside as he sunk into the depth. He stepped down and down as his body gradually disappeared until only his head remained, “There’s a ladder to step on.” He said before his head sunk and disappeared completely.

She went after Harry, and Ron followed behind her. They landed in what looked like a small square room with a single doorway that led both ways out. The space inside the trunk was cold, Ron shivered, pulled his wand out and said, “Calefactio…” The warming charm helped regulate the temperature in the room to tolerable levels.

Harry who seemed unconcerned by the cold lit the chandelier on the ceiling and it instantly lit the extended room in the trunk, revealing beige walls and corridors, doorways without doors, carpeted floors, it looked like an unfurnished apartment building which oddly reminded her of her parents’ first house that they had moved out of right after she started primary school.

Harry eagerly walked out, turning right as he explored the house inside. She followed behind him and, on the way, she noticed a room without a door, inside which had two tables placed together that had cauldrons, ladles, burners, shelves with potions, contraptions that held orbs for lights. Dust covered as it was, it was no doubt a Potions lab, Sirius must have been busy in here, the stains on the table said as much.

It took her a moment to realise that she was standing alone, she turned to see Ron and Harry missing. Just as she was about to call for Ron, she saw him standing at the end of the corridor, staring away from her. She walked over to him and saw what he was seeing. A hall as big as the great hall in Hogwarts, well-lit with a high ceiling, she wouldn’t have believed it if she wasn’t seeing it. Some twenty-odd yards away was Harry sitting on a round wooden stool, staring at the black motorbike in front of him.

She just wanted to go over to him and hug him, to let him know that he wasn’t alone. Just as she took a step forward, Ron grabbed her shoulder, “Ron – he…”

Ron replied before her, shaking his head, “Don’t – he needs quiet. It was like this – after Sirius.”

She had been in the hospital recovering from Dolohov’s curse when Harry was grieving Sirius, Ron had been there for him then, she hadn’t. As much as she hated it, she decided to accept Ron’s wisdom on this. Harry was used to dealing with things alone, sometimes almost as if he didn’t need them at all, which was always a sore point for them both when it came to being Harry’s friends. Maybe Ron was right, maybe Harry needed space more than their presence, but in her heart, she knew that he needed both, he needed their presence close by, but he also needed the space to think and grieve.

After several slow, long minutes of silence to the point she lost track of the time, she saw him close his eyes as he raised his head sitting up straight, breathing in and out. She felt his magic, leaving him. Harry breathed in deep and long before releasing it. With that, he opened his eyes and smiled sadly.

For the first time all day, Harry turned to them looking relaxed and smiling, his eyes no longer heavy, “Want to help me find the keys?”

The Trunk –

When he woke up today, he had one thought in his mind. ‘Make their sacrifices worth it.’ By lunchtime, that thought had evolved into a lifetime resolution. A vow to fight and avenge Sirius, to avenge his parents, to avenge all those who died to the tyranny of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. He had a duty to prove that the sacrifices everyone had made for him to be here weren’t in vain. If he died, then he was going to take Voldemort and as many of his Death Eaters as possible with him to hell.

With such heavy thoughts of mortality and vengeance in his mind, he needed this break. Despite never having ridden a bicycle before, he took to riding the motorbike like a fish to water. It was just like riding a broom, except on a road. The balance came so easily to him. Finding something else that he was naturally good at was heartening. Add that to the knowledge that Sirius had specially built the bike for him as his sixteenth birthday present was enough to make him smile and smile and smile as he streamed through the air.

The vehicle was heavy, customised to be heavier and bulkier. When riding it at great speeds with momentum, it was easier to control. But when the bike moved at slower speeds, keeping the balance was difficult. It was more about his lack of practice than the bike, he needed to get used to it. Although he had to keep it under 40 miles per hour at first or the bike automatically started to float in the air. The more he revved, the higher it flew and the faster it went. Braking slowed the bike down and brought it closer to the ground below. But the altitude it flew at could also be manually adjusted as well by pulling the nose up, pushing the nose down, putting his weight or easing it, to either climb up or dive down respectively.

“Harry, get down here!” Hermione called from below, “You’ve been up there for over an hour!”

Grinning, he pushed the handlebar down with his body weight and descended fast, letting the accelerator go and braking both front and the rear brakes, he glided to the floor. The back tire touched down before the first and the bike bounced thrice as he held on to the clutch and quickly shifted the gears down before coming to a skidding halt. Even though he had aimed to land right next to her, Hermione was nowhere near where he actually ended up landing. He certainly needed a lot of practice before he could use it every day, he made a mental note of it, but otherwise, it seemed brilliant.

Hermione strode up to him as he switched off the ignition and rested it on the side stand before swinging his leg over and got off, “It feels a little loose, but otherwise, it’s brilliant! Sirius really must have worked on boosting the torque, it's powerful.”

Whatever she was about to say to him, she didn’t, instead, she sighed softly muttering “boys” under her breath rolling her eyes as she smiled at him fondly, “Harry, I’m glad you found it, but we have more pressing matters on our hands. Keep that in mind, will you?”

Nothing she said reached his ears or wiped that grin off, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll keep it in mind.” He said easily while still eyeing the motorbike longingly.

“We found something.” She said, switching her tone to a more serious one, which got his attention instantly, “Come on, there’s more. It seems Sirius’s been quite busy in his boredom.”

Pretty soon, they were standing in front of a cross-shaped wooden stand that held what looked like a thick black medieval body armour, but different, more modernised. Looked like boiled leather scale armour with numerous black hexagonal riveted steel plates sewn together like scales. It was clearly unfinished, the entire right side vambrace, gauntlet and gloves were missing.

Ron who had been inspecting it, looked widely, “It’s dragon-hide! I’ve seen enough of it in Charlie’s sanctuary in Romania. Hebridean Black from the looks of it.”

Hermione chimed in at that point, “The scales are goblin steel, layers upon layers of it, sewn into the dragon skin. Meant to be some sort of spell-resistant battle armour.”

As dragons aged, their innate magic grew stronger and denser, and so did the magical resistance on its skin, the oldest dragons that died had their thick skin harvested by experts to fabricate all sorts of protective garments. They were resistant to flames, to corrosive potions and had a high level of resistance to most magic spells. A little trivia about dragons that Hermione had drilled into him when they were preparing for the first task of the Triwizard Tournament ages ago. Since dragon skin was rare, they were also extremely expensive. Goblin steel was much the same, a rare and expensive product. The magical processes the goblins used to create steel often made it very strong but a relatively shock-resistant metal.

“It looks brilliant!” Ron seemed excited.

Hermione nodded, “It is, Sirius, outdid himself designing and making this.”

While he agreed with them, he had other questions, “What was Sirius doing here?” He couldn’t help but wonder, “Why all this? How did he get all this? Dragonskin and goblin steel. Rare, expensive – why would he do all this?”

He circled the stand, inspecting the armour, “It almost feels like he was prepping for war.”

“He was –” Hermione said bluntly, “There’s more than just this, Harry.”

“More?” He gave her a look that shifted to Ron who just nodded.

“Follow me…” Hermione walked out first.

Ron motioned for him to follow her and he did, now feeling very curious. Out on the hallway, she pointed to her left, “The third room from the ladder room is a potions lab. Sirius was brewing Wit-Sharpening Potion and Calming Draughts and he certainly had plans to brew other potions by the looks of it.” She informed him but led him to the right instead.

“Where are we going? I thought you said it was that way.”

“We need to go this way first.” She said and he followed in interest.

Hermione stopped and he stalled next to her in an empty doorway. She gave a wave and lit the room’s lights. There was a brown table with various silver contraptions, between the metal hand-like stands, there was a pair of rectangular glasses, “This is the specs he was building for you. The one he mentioned in the letter.”

He went to the table, staring at the Occulumency specs that Sirius had built for him. It had rectangular wireframes with slightly tinted glasses lenses and black arms. Freeing it from the silver stands, he took it in his hands. Removing his own old glasses, he placed Sirius’s pair on his nose.

His eyes widened as the glasses immediately adjusted to fit his eyes, not too tight and not too loose, it was just right, and the lenses blurred at first before it adjusted to the power of his eyes until he could see as clear as day. He also noticed the mild sticking charm on it, so that it wouldn’t fall off his nose prematurely.

“How do I look?” He asked, Ron grinned and Hermione smiled.

“Better,” Hermione told him.

With a thankful nod, he went around the desk and opened the drawers to find pieces of parchments with scribbled notes. It was Sirius’s handwriting, no doubt, ideas for spells and notes mentioning his reasons for why the chosen spells.

“Can we make more of this? The glasses? Each a pair for you two.” He asked as he showed them the notes.

Ron looked eager, “Can we? I reckon it’d help from Legilimency.”

Hermione’s eyebrows rose impressed, “I think we can manage that.” She said as she walked up to him and took the parchments.

That’s when Ron looked excited, “You ought to see the next room, mate.”

“What is it?”

“You better see for yourself.” Ron grinned and left, he followed behind him.

His eyes widened when he entered the next room and the lights came on, there on the table was a broom, on the walls were several broom parts. He wasn’t up to date on brooms and the new advancements, he had lost most of his interest in the subject after the prophecy had been revealed to him.

“It’s a Firebolt.” He said unimpressed.

Ron, however, was every bit the connoisseur he was before, “No mate, that’s the Firebolt Supreme, the Black Edition. They only made about 60 of these brooms. It’s one of a kind.”

Pointing it out the removable broom handle, “That’s the Dunlop 150 attachable handle, there’s a newer model 160 now, but this one’s just as good. I checked it out, mate, Sirius was customizing his racing broom.”

“Good God, what was Sirius doing?” He asked impressed and concerned.

Behind him, Hermione who had followed behind them while still reviewing the notes, distractedly answered the question that was circling in his head, “I think Sirius expected the war to come to this point, and he was preparing in secret.”

He gave her an inquisitive look and when she caught on to that, she explained, “He knew what the first war was like first-hand, and realised that it could come to this. I think he wanted things to play out in our favour this time around. Or, maybe – he was just indulging in his interests to keep himself occupied. I think it’s a bit of both. With the critical feelings he had about the Order, it makes sense.”

Listening to Hermione summarise it all, was insightful, to say the least. Walking towards the table, he touched the footrest of the completely assembled broomstick that was mounted on the metal stand.

“The bike, the specs, the potions, the armour and the broom. Am I missing anything?” He asked them while still staring intently at the broom in front of him.

“The books.”

He tilted his head slightly, “Books?”

“She means the books on Occulumency, Sirius mentioned learning some technique in the letter,” Ron answered shortly.

He had wondered about that. The Midas technique, Sirius had called it in the letter. Before he could ask, Hermione explained herself.

“I searched about the Midas Occulumency technique in the library, there were no references. But if Sirius had learned it, then there must have been books. I assumed that he must have taken them all from the library when he was designing the specs for you. They’re in one of the rooms.”

Nodding, he impassively stared at the broom, not really inspecting it, but rather thinking in his mind. There was a lesson in all this and he was finally learning it.

Lost deep in thought, staring off into space, it was Hermione’s voice that broke him out of his stupor, “What are you thinking?”

“Now we know –” He answered vaguely.

Ron’s features shrunk into confusion, “We know?”

“We know – what?” Hermione seemed just as confused.

Turning around, he said as he walked out, “Now we know what we have to do to prepare for war?” His tone was awfully calculating and cold. One which sent shivers down both Ron’s and Hermione’s spines.

Do Not Enter

Without the Express Permission of

Regulus Arcturus Black

Harry slammed the letter on the door right beside the little sign, neatly lettered by hand. Hermione was holding her breath next to him, clutching his arms in a grip tight enough to make him wince. Ron was staring at the letter and at the sign with his mouth hanging open.

To the Dark Lord

I know I will be dead long before you read this, but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match, you will be mortal once more.

R.A.B.

“R – A – B…” He said plainly, “Regulus Arcturus Black. It’s the same handwriting.”

“We found him!” Ron exhaled still looking a little dazed.

They had stumbled on the door on their way back downstairs since it was getting late. They had spent the last few hours inside Sirius’s trunk. They decided to leave the trunk in the attic, for now, later Hermione would pack it in her purse for safekeeping, but for now, he wanted access to it.

“Sirius’s brother?” She whispered in doubt.

“He was a Death Eater,” He told them, “Sirius told me about him, he joined up when he was really young and then got cold feet and tried to leave – so they killed him. Mum told me that Sirius hated how the family had turned Regulus into a Death Eater.”

“That fits!” Hermione gasped and Ron just nodded dumbly, “If he was a Death Eater, he had access to Riddle, and if he became disenchanted, then he would have wanted to bring Riddle down!”

“Then what are we waitin’ for? If he stole the locket, it’s probably inside.” Ron concluded immediately and pushed the door, but it was locked.

Hermione pointed her wand at the handle and said, “Alohom*ora.” There was a click, and the door swung open.

Regulus’s bedroom was a cosy room, though it had a sense of grandeur to it. While Sirius had sought to advertise his difference from the rest of the family with posters of bikini-clad muggle women on motorbikes, Regulus, on the other hand, had striven to emphasize the opposite. The room was filled with Slytherin colours of emerald and silver everywhere, draping the bead, the walls, and the windows. The Black family crest was painstakingly painted over the bed, along with its motto in Regulus’s writing style, TOUJOURS PUR. Beneath it was a collection of yellow newspaper cuttings, all stuck together to make a ragged collage.

Hermione crossed the room to examine them. She sat down on the dusty bed to inspect the contents of the clippings. Ron was opening the shelves and drawers to check for the locket.

He went over to the desk and beside the mantle clock was a framed photograph of the Slytherin Quidditch team, waving and smiling. He found Regulus Black at the centre of the first row, where Seekers were always seated. He had the same dark hair and slightly haughty look as his brother, though he was smaller, lighter, and rather less handsome than Sirius had been.

“They’re all about Vold – um Riddle,” Hermione corrected at the last second, “Regulus seems to have been a fan for a few years before he joined the Death Eaters.”

Ron huffed a little at the puff of dust from the drapes he was checking and said, “There’s nothing here.”

“There’s an easier way,” Hermione said as she raised her wand and said, “Accio Locket!”

Nothing happened. Ron, looked disappointed, “Is that it, then? It’s not here?”

“Oh, it could still be here, but under counter-enchantments,” Hermione suggested thoughtfully, “Charms to prevent it from being summoned magically, you know.”

“Could be. There was one on the stone basin in the cave.” He said remembering how he had been unable to Summon the fake locket.

“How are we supposed to find it then?” Ron asked annoyed at the difficulty.

“Manually,” Both he and Hermione said simultaneously, Ron rolled his eyes and went back to inspecting the curtains.

After searching for nearly an hour, they walked out of the room frazzled, heading downstairs to clean up the kitchen and get to bed, it was almost midnight.

Hermione who was still wiping off the dust in her hair, suggested, “It could still be somewhere else in the house. Whether he’d managed to destroy it or not, he’d want to keep it hidden from you-know-who, wouldn’t he? Remember all those awful things we had to get rid of when we were here last time? That clock that shot bolts at everyone and those old robes that tried to strangle Ron; Regulus might have put them there to protect the locket’s hiding place, even though we didn’t realize it at – at…”

Harry and Ron looked at her sudden stop, which was very unusual during one of her classic rants that they had all gotten used to. She was standing there with a dumbstruck look on her face, as though she had just been Obliviated, her eyes had even drifted out of focus.

“…at the time.” She finished in a whisper.

“Something wrong?” Ron asked curiously.

“There was a locket.” She said her eyes widening

“What?” Both the boys asked together.

“In the cabinet in the drawing-room. Nobody could open it. And we…we…”

He froze when he realised what she was talking about. He remembered that locket, it was dirty, far dirtier than the fake one from the cave. He had even handled the thing as they passed it around, each trying, in turn, to pry it open. It had been tossed into a sack of rubbish, along with the snuffbox of Wartcap powder and the music box that had made everyone sleepy.

“I remember,” He breathed as he blinked stupidly, “I remember that locket. It didn’t look like gold; it was a scratched-up thing, dark black from all the dirt. We threw it out.”

“Bloody –” Ron groaned and cursed under his breath, looking so tired. Hermione was biting her lips, desperately trying to think of something to find that locket.

That’s when it clicked, “It’s not over yet. Kreacher!”

There was a loud crack and the contemptuous looking house-elf appeared before them, “Master.” The elf said in that loud grating voice.

“Two years ago,” Harry began as his heart started hammering against his ribs, “…there was a big gold locket in the drawing-room upstairs. We threw it out. Did you by any chance steal it back?”

There was a moment’s silence, during which Kreacher straightened up to look Harry full in the face. Then he said, “Yes.”

“Where is it now?” He asked sighing in relief as Ron and Hermione both looked gleeful.

Kreacher, however, closed his eyes as though he could not bear to see their reactions to his next word, “Gone.”

“Gone?” His voice echoed as his momentary relief ebbed out of him very quickly, “What do you mean, it’s gone?” The elf shivered and swayed.

“Kreacher,” He asked fiercely, “I order you –”

“Mundungus Fletcher.” Kreacher croaked, his eyes still tight shut.

“Mundungus Fletcher stole it all. Miss Bella’s and Miss Cissy’s pictures, my Mistress’s gloves, my Lord Black’s Order of Merlin, First Class, the goblets with the family crest, and – and…”

Kreacher began gasping for air and began screaming, “…and the locket, Master Regulus’s locket. Kreacher did wrong. Kreacher failed in his orders!”

Harry reacted instinctively as Kreacher launched to the nearby wall intent on banging his head against it, he caught Kreacher by the shoulder and stopped him. Hermione’s scream mingled with Kreacher’s but Harry bellowed louder than both of them, “Kreacher, I order you to stay still!”

He felt the elf freeze in his grasp. Kreacher then slumped down on the cold stone floor, tears gushing from his sagging eyes.

“Harry, let him up!” Hermione whispered.

“So, he can try and slam his head against the wall again?” He snorted, kneeling beside the elf, “I don’t think so.”

He turned to the elf and asked, “Kreacher, I want the truth. How do you know Mundungus Fletcher stole the locket?”

“Kreacher saw him!” The elf gasped as tears poured over his snout and into his mouth full of greying teeth, “Kreacher saw him coming out of Kreacher’s cupboard with his hands full of Kreacher’s treasures. Kreacher told the sneak thief to stop, but Mundungus Fletcher laughed and r-ran…”

“You called the locket ’Master Regulus’s…” He probed carefully, “Why? Where did it come from? What did Regulus have to do with it? Kreacher, sit up straight and tell me everything you know about that locket, and everything Regulus had to do with it!”

The elf sat up, curled into a ball, placed his wet face between his knees, and began to rock backwards and forward. When he spoke, his voice was muffled but quite distinct in the silent, house.

“Master Sirius ran away, good riddance, for he was a bad boy and broke my Mistress’s heart with his lawless ways. But Master Regulus had proper order; he knew what was due to the name of Black and the dignity of his pure blood. For years he talked of the Dark Lord, who was going to bring the wizards out of hiding to rule the filthy Muggles and the Muggle-borns…and when he was sixteen years old, Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord. So proud, so proud, so happy to serve. And one day, a year after he joined, Master Regulus came down to the kitchen to see Kreacher. Master Regulus always liked Kreacher. And Master Regulus said…he said…”

The old elf rocked faster than ever, “…he said that the Dark Lord required an elf.”

“You-know-who needed an elf?” Harry repeated, looking around at Ron and Hermione, who looked just as puzzled as he was.

Kreacher nodded vigorously, “And Master Regulus had volunteered Kreacher. It was an honour, said Master Regulus, an honour for him and for Kreacher, who must be sure to do whatever the Dark Lord ordered him to do…and then to c-come home.” Kreacher rocked still faster, his breath coming in sobs.

“So Kreacher went to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord did not tell Kreacher what they were to do but took Kreacher with him to a cave beside the sea. And beyond the cave was a cavern, and in the cavern was a great black lake.”

He felt a chill run down his spine and spread across his entire body. He could imagine Voldemort’s snake-like face, he could see him with Kreacher beside him in that dark cave.

“…There was a boat…”

He remembered that boat vividly, ghostly green and tiny, bewitched to carry one wizard and one victim toward the island in the centre. It quickly became clear to him what Voldemort’s purpose was for Kreacher, the victim. This was how Voldemort had tested the defences surrounding the Horcrux, by borrowing a disposable creature, a house-elf from a loyal family. He never thought he could hate Voldemort any more than he already was, and he was clearly wrong.

“There was a b-basin full of potion on the island. The D-Dark Lord made Kreacher drink it…”

His mind was instantly flooded with Dumbledore’s image before him, begging him to stop, begging him not to make him drink anymore. Begging him to stop as he had to force-feed it to the man he had admired so much. Another nightmare that frequently haunted him. Why him? Why had Dumbledore taken him? He resented that burden.

“Kreacher drank, and as he drank, he saw terrible things – Kreacher’s insides burned – Kreacher cried for Master Regulus to save him, he cried for his Mistress Black, but the Dark Lord only laughed. He made Kreacher drink all of it. He dropped a locket into the empty basin. He filled it with more potion.”

“And then the Dark Lord sailed away, leaving Kreacher on the island.”

He could imagine it happening as Kreacher told him. He could see Voldemort’s red eyes fixed pitilessly on the thrashing elf whose death would occur within minutes, whenever he succumbed to the desperate thirst that the burning poison caused its victim.

“Kreacher needed water, he crawled to the island’s edge and he drank from the black lake and hands, dead hands came out of the water and dragged Kreacher under the surface.”

“How did you get away?” Harry asked, and he was not surprised to hear himself whispering.

Kreacher raised his ugly head and looked at Harry with his great, bloodshot eyes, “Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back.”

“I know that Kreacher, but how did you escape the Inferi?” He asked confused.

Kreacher did not seem to understand him, “Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back.” The elf repeated.

“I know, but…”

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it, Harry?” Ron said behind him, “He must have Disapparated!”

“But…you couldn’t Apparate in and out of that cave,” He tilted his head in further confusion, “…otherwise Dumbledore would have…”

“Elf magic isn’t like wizard’s magic, is it?” Ron said obviously, “I mean, they can Apparate and Disapparate in and out of Hogwarts when we can’t.”

There was a silence as Harry digested this. How could Voldemort have made such a mistake? But even as he thought this, Hermione spoke, and her voice was laced with venom.

“Of course, Riddle would have considered the ways of house-elves far beneath his notice. It would never have occurred to him that they might have magic that he didn’t.”

“The house-elf’s highest law is his Master’s bidding,” Kreacher intoned, “Kreacher was told to come home, so Kreacher came home…”

“Well, then, you did what you were told, didn’t you?” Hermione said kindly.

“You didn’t disobey orders at all!” Kreacher shook his head at her words, rocking as fast as ever.

He idly wondered where else could elves enter that they couldn’t. He was starting to see a connection. Dumbledore had certainly relied on the memories of elves when investigating the Horcruxes. He filed that bit of information away for a later time.

“So, what happened when you got back?” He asked again, “What did Regulus say when you told him what happened?”

“Master Regulus was very worried, very worried. Master Regulus told Kreacher to stay hidden and not to leave the house. And then…it was a little while later…Master Regulus came to find Kreacher in his cupboard one night, and Master Regulus was strange, not as he usually was, disturbed in his mind, Kreacher could tell – and he asked Kreacher to take him to the cave, the cave where Kreacher had gone with the Dark Lord.”

Regulus had taken Kreacher to that cave? He assumed that must be when Regulus switched the locket with the fake one. Sirius’s brother must have worked out what it was that Voldemort was doing to keep himself immortal and decided to undo it.

“And he made you drink the poison?” He asked slightly disgusted at the thought of Kreacher going through that again even if it was for getting Voldemort’s Horcrux.

He was surprised when Kreacher shook his head and wept. Hermione’s hands leapt to her mouth. She seemed to have understood something.

“M-Master Regulus took from his pocket a locket like the one the Dark Lord had and he told Kreacher to take it and, when the basin was empty, to switch the lockets…” Kreacher’s sobs came in great rasps now.

“And he ordered – Kreacher to leave without him. He told Kreacher – to go home and never to tell my Mistress what he had done – but to destroy the first locket. And he drank all the potion and Kreacher swapped the lockets – and watched…as Master Regulus…was dragged beneath the water…”

“Oh, Kreacher!” Hermione was crying, she dropped to her knees beside the elf and tried to hug him. At once he was on his feet, cringing away from her, quite obviously repulsed.

“The Mudblood touched Kreacher, he will not allow it, what would his Mistress say?”

“I told you not to call her ‘Mudblood’!” He snarled, but the elf was already punishing himself. He fell to the ground and banged his forehead on the floor. “Stop him – stop him, Harry!”

Hermione cried, “Oh, don’t you see now how sick it is, the way they’ve got to obey?”

“Kreacher—stop, stop!” He sighed as he ordered.

And Kreacher immediately stopped. Laying on the floor, panting and shivering, green mucus glistening around his snot, a bruise already blooming on his pallid forehead where he had struck himself, his eyes swollen and bloodshot and swimming in tears.

“So, you brought the locket home and what?” He asked relentlessly, “And you tried to destroy it?”

“Kreacher tried everything, everything he knew, but nothing, nothing would work… So many powerful spells upon the casing, Kreacher was sure the way to destroy it was to get inside it, but it would not open…Kreacher punished himself, he tried again. Kreacher failed to obey orders, Kreacher could not destroy the locket! And his mistress was mad with grief because Master Regulus had disappeared and Kreacher could not tell her what had happened, no, because Master Regulus had f-f-forbidden him to tell any of the f-f-family what happened in the c-cave…”

Kreacher began to sob so hard that there were no more coherent words. Tears flowed down Hermione’s cheeks as she watched Kreacher, but she did not dare touch him again. Even Ron, who was no fan of Kreacher’s, looked troubled. Harry sat back on his heels and shook his head, trying to clear it.

“I don’t understand you, Kreacher.” He said finally, “You-know-who tried to kill you, Regulus died to bring Riddle down, but you were still happy to betray Sirius? You were happy to go to Narcissa and Bellatrix, and pass information to them…”

“Harry, Kreacher doesn’t think like that,” Hermione explained, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand.

“He’s a slave; house-elves are used to bad, even brutal treatment. What Riddle did to Kreacher wasn’t that far out of the common way. What do wizard wars mean to an elf like Kreacher? He’s loyal to people who are kind to him, and Mrs Black must have been, and Regulus certainly was, so he served them willingly and parroted their beliefs. I know what you’re going to say,” She went on as soon as he began to protest, “…that Regulus changed his mind…but he didn’t explain that to Kreacher, did he?”

“And I think I know why. Kreacher and Regulus’s family were all safest if they kept to the old pure-blood line. Regulus was trying to protect them all.”

“Sirius –” He began but she interrupted him.

There was a fire in her eyes, “Sirius was horrible to Kreacher, Harry, and it’s no good looking like that, you know it’s true. Kreacher had been alone for such a long time when Sirius came to live here, and he was probably starving for a bit of affection. I’m sure ’Miss Cissy’ and ’Miss Bella’ were perfectly lovely to Kreacher when he turned up, so he did them a favour and told them everything they wanted to know. I’ve said all along that, wizards would pay for how they treat house-elves. Well, Voldemort did…and so did Sirius.” Ron flinched at Voldemort’s name slipping out of Hermione.

“Don’t you dare!” He gritted out suddenly as he shot up to his feet, “Don’t you dare, Hermione. Don’t you dare tell me that Sirius had it coming!”

Hermione looked like she was struck, “Lord Arcturus Black was alive until our first year in school. Kreacher wasn’t alone here. And even if he was, he wasn’t the only one that was alone. Sirius was alone too! For over a decade in Azkaban, surrounded by Dementors at that! Sirius ignored Kreacher’s existence, but he never punished or mistreated Kreacher as the Malfoys did to Dobby!” His voice progressively grew louder with each sentence.

“So don’t you stand there and tell me that Sirius had it coming!”

“Harry!” Ron gruffly said from behind him, sounding angry.

“Stay out of this, Ron!” He yelled back turning, making Ron reel backwards.

His voice grew low and steady in an instant, “Kreacher may have been manipulated by Bellatrix and Narcissa, but he’s not innocent. He’s not. He doesn’t even regret that Sirius is dead. Kreacher had a choice to make, he made it. Like those Death Eaters, like us, we all have a choice.” He said to her slowly and she stared back at him, tears once again rolling down her cheeks.

With that, he stepped back and headed down the stairs, ignoring Hermione’s almost inaudible “B-but –”

Seeing that he wasn’t going to listen to her, in a moment of anger she shot back as her eyes narrowed, “Stop trying to blame Kreacher. You can’t hold him to our standards.”

Harry slowed in his tracks, “I can blame Kreacher, and I will. He had just as much as a hand in Sirius’s death that I have, just as much as Bellatrix and Narcissa have.” He looked up at her from the steps, “I cannot forget that. I won’t. But he’s also an elf, in time, I can maybe forgive him and learn to put that behind me, but I won’t forget.”

Ron looked extremely conflicted, not knowing whether to support Hermione or him, he had no love for Kreacher, but he didn’t want to blame Kreacher after hearing what happened, hence staying out of the argument.

Hermione took a step forward, “But Sirius mistreated Kreacher. You can’t sweep that under the rug, Harry.”

His eyes blazed in anger, “Is that why you’re comparing him to Voldemort?”

Hermione had broken the taboo first, so he did too, Ron flinched again at the name, “The Malfoys punished Dobby by making him iron his own fingers.” Hermione gasped just as he twisted his face, looking disgusted as he said it, “Voldemort made Kreacher drink that poison. Sirius didn’t do anything like that. You know what elves go through, you said it yourself. After everything Sirius went through, he merely didn’t want to live with a distasteful elf and he ignored him. How is that comparable?!” Hermione looked on in horror.

“Tell me, Hermione,” He demanded as his voice broke for a moment, “How?”

She had no answer to that, “Being ignored and left alone, is far, far better than being blamed for every bloody little thing and being punished for it – for all of it. You wouldn’t understand that, because you haven’t had to live through that. I have. That’s why I wanted to save Dobby. And that’s also why I’ll hold Kreacher responsible for his actions.”

“So don’t stand there and compare Sirius to Voldemort and tell me that he deserved what he got. He didn’t!” He yelled, “He deserved better! Much better!”

And Harry strode away fuming furiously, leaving his two friends behind stunned. They hadn’t thought of it like that, they had sympathised with Kreacher, but had also automatically condemned Sirius for ignoring the elf. Hermione looked a little ashamed, for comparing Sirius to Voldemort who had left Kreacher to die in a cave filled with Inferi. Sirius was nothing like that monster. He had at worst, rudely told Kreacher to go away and not to bother him.

So consumed by her feelings of empathy for the elf, she had condemned Sirius as an oppressor. Was he though? He was just a tortured man who wanted to live in his house peacefully and prepare without being irritated by an elf that hated him and parroted the pureblood agenda. It wasn’t Sirius’s fault that he had inherited Kreacher and had to endure him, which led him to ignore the attention-starved elf. But it wasn’t Kreacher’s fault that he was conditioned to be prejudiced by Sirius’s family. Whose fault, was it then? She couldn’t decide. Once that barrier to uncertainty was crossed, it became clear. The fault was neither with Sirius nor was it with Kreacher, it was just a matter of unpleasant circ*mstance. Blaming Sirius was just as ridiculous as blaming Kreacher.

Furthermore, Harry’s words had rung in her heart. He said that he had to live through being blamed for every little thing and being punished for it. That’s why he had connected with Dobby so strongly, but couldn’t bring himself to do so with Kreacher. What else had he had to live through? She wondered as she wiped away the tears.

She didn’t agree with Harry blaming Kreacher for betraying Sirius, that felt like it was coming from a place of bitterness. But then again, Harry blamed himself too, he blamed Bellatrix and he blamed Narcissa. He was essentially blaming all the guilty parties involved. In some sense, he was being fair. There was no bias, he was holding them all accountable, equally. Which made it so that Kreacher had to be held accountable for his actions, but Kreacher was an elf, not a wizard or a witch, his choices were limited. She admired that sense of justice, just as much as she hated the blame put on Kreacher. She closed her eyes with her palms and felt like screaming. She couldn’t decide which was right and which was wrong, and she hated that indecision.

What was she going to do? What were they going to do? She turned to Ron and asked, “What are we going to do?”

“I – uh –” Ron just stared at her blankly, he was just as lost in indecision as she was and it only served to frustrate her more. She could only hope that Harry forgave Kreacher and perhaps eventually forgave himself.

All she could do was hope.

Chapter 5: Wolf Arrives

Chapter Text

Grimmauld Place –

Things were tense in the house. Tense, in a palpable sense. They had not heard a word from anyone beyond Grimmauld Place since the wedding, and the strain was starting to tell. Restless and irritable, Ron had developed an annoying habit of playing with the Deluminator in his pocket. This particularly infuriated Hermione, who was trying to study The Tales of Beedle the Bard and did not appreciate the way the lights kept flashing on and off.

“Will you stop it!” Hermione cried out the third time after two warnings, as all light was sucked from the drawing-room yet again.

“Sorry, sorry!” Ron said as he clicked the Deluminator and restored the lights, “I don’t know I’m doing it.”

“Well, why can’t you find something useful to occupy yourself?” Hermione asked rather irritably.

Ron in turn scoffed, “What, like reading kids’ stories?”

“Dumbledore left me this book, Ron –”

“…and he left me the Deluminator, maybe I’m supposed to use it!”

Ron’s counter immediately started a back-and-forth exchange of words.

He automatically pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed at their bickering. He wasn’t particularly talkative with Hermione since their argument two nights ago, and Ron wasn’t feeling happy about anything, period. Ron’s been sulking even more now since the petrol in the bike had run out, so they couldn’t practice riding it in Sirius’s trunk. And flying on Firebolts wasn’t quite the same anymore, the trunk didn’t have much room to test the full speed. He used his own Firebolt, and Ron used Sirius’s modified Firebolt Supreme. The difference between the broom and bike was that the bike was cooler, they could press a button and the hottest blue fire would spew out of the back, which in theory could accelerate the bike faster than even what the Firebolt could do. And they could do it without the bike even flying, although they had only tried it once and that had exhausted the petrol in the tank in a matter of minutes.

He sighed again. He missed riding the bike. For all the things to happen, he didn’t expect petrol would be what would run out and put an end to something that was quickly becoming his favourite hobby. He had half a mind to leave the house just to get some petrol for the motorbike.

Just as he was about to snap at them both for their bickering, they heard a noise and all three of them froze. They were immediately on their feet. The noise came from downstairs, something similar to the clattering of heavy metal chains. It took them all a moment to realise what was going on, but he recognised it first and before he knew it, he was rushing downstairs.

Someone was in the process of opening the front door of the house. Pulling out his wand, he was down the stairs with his arm poised to attack. Partially hiding inside the kitchen doorway, he aimed his wand at the end of the narrow hallway. As the door opened, he caught a glimpse of the yellow streetlight outside in the night and he saw the countless droplets of rain flying past the light. As the sound of the falling rain on the pavement reached him, he realised that it had been raining outside.

Moody’s voice asked, “Severus Snape?” Then the dust figure rose from the end of the hall, and rushed past him, raising its dead hand at nothingness.

Out of nothingness, a male voice echoed, “No. It was not I who killed you, Albus.”

Whoever it was, knew about Moody’s spell and knew exactly how to counter it, that was comforting. If the person had prior knowledge, it could be an Order member. Besides, the Black ring on his finger wasn’t vibrating, which meant that he wasn’t in any danger. But that didn’t allow him to let his guard down.

Immediately after the voice spoke, a dark figure pulled what looked like an invisibility cloak off of him and appeared where the voice had come from. The jinx broke in that instant. The dust-figure exploded again, and it was impossible to make out the identity of the newcomer through the dense grey cloud it left behind.

“Don’t move!” He aimed his wand at the centre.

He had forgotten the portrait of Mrs Black. At the sound of his yell, the curtains hiding her flew open and she began to scream, “Mudbloods and filth dishonouring my house –”

Ron and Hermione came crashing down the stairs at that moment, wands pointing, like his, at the unknown man now standing with his arms raised in the doorway.

“Hold your fire, it’s me, Remus!”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Hermione breathed weakly, pointing her wand at Mrs Black’s portrait instead; with a bang, the curtains swished shut again and silence fell over them. Ron too lowered his wand, but he didn’t.

He instinctively moved closer as the man raised his arms even higher in surrender, “What spell did you use against Peeves during our very first Defence class?”

Remus looked stuck for a moment as he thought about it, after a moment of intense silence, Remus replied, “I think, I used the Projectile Jinx to dislodge chewing gum from the keyhole and turned it on Peeves.”

Harry’s face contorted slightly, he just realised that didn’t know if it was the Projectile Jinx or not, all he remembered about it was the incantation Remus had used, so he asked, “What was the incantation?”

“Waddiwasi…” Remus answered quickly.

That was the right answer. Feeling a little more assured, he moved his wand and the open door behind Remus closed and the noise of the rain outside stopped echoing inside. He pointed it again on Remus and held it for a moment longer.

He finally lowered his wand, “…I had to check.”

“Speaking as your ex-Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, I quite agree that you had to check. We are at war. Ron, Hermione, you shouldn’t be quite so quick to lower your defences.” Remus replied with a small smile on his face as he relaxed.

Before he knew it, he was closing the gap between the man who was his honorary uncle as he wrapped the taller man tightly in a bear hug. He breathed in relief. Remus wrapped his arms back and tapped his shoulder blades warmly before letting go.

Clad in a thick black travelling cloak, Remus looked exhausted but pleased. Ron took Remus’s invisibility cloak that was discarded on the floor and inspected it.

“No sign of Snape, then?” Moony asked them.

“No,” He shook his head, “What’s going on? Is everyone okay?” He thought back on everyone at the wedding, he thought about Ginny.

“Yes, but we’re all being watched. There are a couple of Death Eaters in the square outside…”

“We know…” They chorused.

“I had to Apparate very precisely onto the top step outside the front door to be sure that they would not see me. They can’t know you’re in here or I’m sure they’d have more people out there; they’re staking out everywhere that’s got any connection with you, Harry. Let’s go to the kitchen, there’s a lot to tell you, and I want to know what’s happened after you left the Burrow.”

They went into the kitchen, where Hermione pointed her wand at the old kitchen worktop and fire sprang up instantly at the fireplace in the centre. It gave the illusion of cosiness to the stark walls and an orange glow glistened off the long wooden table. Moony pulled out four big tankards of butterbeers from beneath his travelling cloak for all of them. Ron eagerly sat down and indulged himself in the butterbeer.

“I’d have been here three days ago but I somehow got myself a tail and had to shake off the Death Eater tailing me,” Remus explained the delay and asked them, “So, you all came straight here after the wedding?”

“No, we ran into a couple of Death Eaters in a café on Tottenham Court Road,” Ron said with a shake of his head as he was wiping off the white moustache from the foaming butterbeer.

“What?” Remus stopped drinking and asked, “How? How did they find you there?”

Hermione geared into an explanation, “I think there’s a taboo curse placed on you-know-who’s name. The moment we said the Dark Lord’s name, the Death Eaters were able to find us. That’s the only explanation that makes sense. And we’ve tested it out too.”

Remus’s eyes widened, the man looked down on his half-filled glass of Butterbeer and seemed contemplative, “That explains so much.” Remus muttered aloud, “I think that’s how I got my tail. Good work, Hermione.”

“We have to inform the rest of the Order about this,” Remus looked thoughtful, “I’ll have to do it later.”

Meanwhile, he opened the leftovers from the stasis. Setting a plate of the beef sandwich before Remus who smiled thankfully, he took a seat next to Hermione and sipped on the butterbeer. Remus was clearly famished from the way he eagerly bit into the food and enjoyed it with the drink.

That’s when he asked, “Tell us what happened after we left, we haven’t heard a thing since Mr Weasley’s Patronus told us the family was safe.”

“Well, Kingsley saved us,” Lupin deadpanned, “Thanks to his warning most of the wedding guests were able to Disapparate before they arrived. The bride and groom got away as well but ran into a few Death Eaters in Hogsmeade before they got to safety. Harry, Fleur wanted me to tell you that she’s thankful for the necklace, she said the spells on it saved their lives.”

“What spells?” He asked confused, he didn’t enchant any charm on it.

Remus tilted his head a little in uncertainty, “The Revulsion Jinx. Didn’t you put it?”

“No,” He shook his head, “When I bought it, the shopkeeper said that there were some safety features on it, but I didn’t personally enchant anything.”

Remus looked at the table for a moment and gave a nod before muttering, “It must have been a standard safety feature, in case someone tried to snatch it.” And then shook his head before saying, “In any case, the jinx helped them immensely.”

Harry felt thankful. Even though he had only meant it as a wedding gift, if it had helped Bill and Fleur against Death Eaters, then he was grateful for that.

“Those that attacked the wedding, were they Death Eaters or Ministry people?” Hermione interjected looking a little worried.

“A mixture of both, but for all intents and purposes they’re the same thing now,” Remus amended his statement, “There were about a dozen of them, but they didn’t know you were there Harry, but they suspected your presence. Arthur heard a rumour that they tried to torture your whereabouts out of Scrimgeour before they killed him; if it’s true, he didn’t give you away.”

At that, he looked at Hermione and Ron, both of their expressions reflected the same mixture of shock and gratitude that he had felt. He had never liked Scrimgeour much, but if what Moony said was true, the man’s final act had been to try to protect him. But it also guilted him, how many more must die protecting him? When will it end?

On the other hand, he also felt another piece of the puzzle falling into place. He now understood why the ring had vibrated long before the wedding, during and after. While they were celebrating, Death Eaters were fighting the Ministry. The ring had been warning him of the danger he was in. Was the magic on it, sentient and all-knowing? Something more to look into.

“The Death Eaters searched the Burrow from top to bottom.” Remus went on, which distracted his thoughts.

“They found the ghoul, but didn’t want to get too close – and then they interrogated those of us who remained for hours. They were trying to get information on you, Harry, but of course, nobody apart from the Order knew that you had been there. It was unwise of you to go to Fleur’s room before the wedding without the Polyjuice, Harry, her cousins had seen you there. Thankfully, we got lucky on that front, those girls were dancing and they Disapparated during the chaos, Charlie found them all later that night. And the Death Eaters had largely ignored Gabrielle, along with Mr and Mrs Delacour, they for their part had pretended not to understand English, which saved them and us.”

He let out a sigh of relief, and Ron did the same beside him a moment after. Another mistake that would have been bad, but was luckily averted. He told himself he wouldn’t make one of those again. If those annoying girls he had run into in Fleur’s room hadn’t left the wedding during the attack and if the Death Eaters had interrogated them, then his presence would have incriminated the Weasleys. He didn’t want to imagine what that would have meant for them.

“At the same time that they were smashing up the wedding, more Death Eaters were forcing their way into every Order-connected house in the country. No deaths,” Remus added quickly, forestalling the question, “…but they were rough. They burned down Dedalus Diggle’s house, but as you know he wasn’t there, and they used the Cruciatus Curse on Tonks’s family. Again, trying to find out where you went after you visited them. They’re all right – shaken, obviously, but otherwise okay.”

“The Death Eaters got through all those protective charms?” He asked, remembering how effective those had been on the night he had crashed in Tonks’s parents’ garden.

Remus gave a nod, “What you’ve got to realise, is that the Death Eaters have got the full might of the Ministry on their side now. They’ve got the power to perform brutal spells without the fear of identification or arrest. They managed to penetrate every defensive spell we’d cast against them, and once inside, they were completely open about why they’d come.”

“And are they bothering with an excuse for torturing Harry’s whereabouts out of people?” Hermione asked, an angry edge to her voice.

“Well…” Lupin hesitated, then pulled out a folded copy of the Daily Prophet.

“Here,” Remus pushed it across the table to him, “…you’ll know sooner or later anyway. That’s their pretext for going after you.”

Harry smoothed out the paper. A huge photograph of his own face filled the front page. He read the headline over it.

WANTED FOR QUESTIONING ABOUT

THE DEATH OF ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

Ron and Hermione gave roars of outrage, but he said nothing. He pushed the newspaper away impassively because he did not want to read anymore. He knew what it would say. Nobody but those who had been on top of the tower when Dumbledore died knew who had really killed him. And as Rita Skeeter had already told the wizarding world her version of the events, which was that he had been seen running from the place moments after Dumbledore had fallen, it was no surprise that the Death Eaters were using this narrative to try and incriminate him.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Remus said consolingly.

“It’s fine.” He groused.

“So, Death Eaters have taken over the Daily Prophet too?” Hermione crossed her arms and asked furiously.

Remus just nodded at that. Ron looked equally enraged at the news.

“But surely people realise what’s going on?” Ron then asked hopefully.

“The coup has been smooth and virtually silent, Ron. The Ministry was infiltrated very well, everyone turned on each other and they took over in hours. The official version of Scrimgeour’s murder is that he resigned; he has been replaced by Pius Thicknesse, who is under the Imperius Curse.” Remus explained to them.

“Why didn’t you-know-who declare himself Minister of Magic then?” Ron asked confused.

Remus let out a laugh, “He doesn’t need to, Ron. Effectively, he is the Minister, but why should he sit behind a desk at the Ministry? His puppet, Thicknesse, surrounded by his loyal Death Eaters disguised as Ministry officials are taking care of everyday business, leaving Vo – the Dark Lord free to extend his power beyond the ministry.”

“Naturally, many people have deduced what has happened. There has been such a dramatic change in Ministry policy in the last few days, and many are whispering that you-know-who must be behind it. However, that is not the point. They whisper. But they wouldn’t dare confide in each other, not knowing whom to trust; they are scared out of their wits to speak out, worrying that in case their suspicions are true, their families will be targeted. Yes, Vol – the Dark Lord is playing a very clever game. Declaring himself as Minister to the public might have provoked an open rebellion, but remaining masked has created confusion, uncertainty, and fear. And that’s something he can use.”

“And this dramatic change in Ministry policy,” He asked, narrowing in on that one point, “…involves warning the Wizarding world about me?”

“That’s certainly a part of it, and it is a masterstroke. Now that Dumbledore is dead, you – the Boy Who Lived – was sure to be the symbol and rallying point for any resistance against the Dark Lord. People would have flocked to you for leadership, but by suggesting that you had a hand in the old hero’s death, he has not only set a price upon your head but sown doubt and fear amongst many who would have otherwise defended you.”

“Meanwhile, the Ministry has started moving against Muggleborns.” Lupin pointed at the Daily Prophet, “Look at page two.”

Hermione turned the pages with much the same expression of distaste she had worn when handling the Secrets of the Darkest Art.

“‘Muggle-born Register’,” She read aloud, “The Ministry of Magic is undertaking a survey of so-called ‘Muggle-borns’, to better understand how they came to possess magical secrets.”

“Recent research undertaken by the Department of Mysteries has revealed that magic can only be passed from person to person when Wizards reproduce. Where no proven Wizarding ancestry exists, therefore, the so-called Muggle-born is likely to have obtained magical power by theft or force.”

“The Ministry is determined to root out such usurpers of magical power, and to this end has issued an invitation to every so-called Muggle-born to present themselves for interview by the newly appointed Muggle-born Registration Commission.”

“People won’t let this happen,” Ron shot up from his seat and said firmly.

“It is happening, Ron.” Remus said firmly shaking his head, “Muggle-borns are being rounded up as we speak.” He said sporting a grim look on his face.

“But how are they supposed to have ’stolen’ magic?” Ron argued, “It’s mental, if you could steal magic there wouldn’t be any Squibs, would there?”

“I know, Ron.” Remus mediated, “Nevertheless unless you can prove that you have at least one close Wizarding relative, you are now deemed to have obtained your magical power illegally and must suffer the punishment.”

Ron glanced at Hermione, then said, “What if purebloods and half-bloods swear a Muggleborn’s part of their family? I’ll tell everyone Hermione’s my cousin –”

Hermione covered Ron’s hand with hers and squeezed it, “Thank you, Ron, but I don’t think it will matter. We’re on the run with Harry Potter, the most wanted person in the country, I don’t think it would matter who we are when we get caught.”

Hermione’s statement was like a nail to the heart. He was suddenly all too aware of how much danger his friends were in because of him. But a part of him argued that it wasn’t just because of him, this was for the good of the entire wizarding world. However, that did not help anything.

“Hermione’s right,” Remus looked pained as he looked at Ron and Hermione, before he said, “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.” He pulled out two more pieces of papers from his jacket pocket, “I got this off of the Death Eater I stumbled into just last night.”

As Remus spread it on the table, he saw why Remus was so pained. One of them was a picture of him and on the top, there was written ‘HARRY POTTER: UNDESIRABLE No.1’ in bold black letters. The poster did not bother him as much as he expected it would, he was just sort of numb to it. Somewhere deep down, he had almost expected this and he had prepared himself for it.

The other poster however infuriated him, on it was a moving image of him and Hermione at Hogsmeade. He recognised Hermione’s outfit, from which he guessed the day this picture was taken, the day they had run into Mundungus Fletcher and caught him selling Sirius’s things. She was standing next to him, looking grim at something he was saying to her, the moving picture was on a loop, and on top of the picture was the caption, ‘HERMIONE GRANGER: UNDESIRABLE No.2’ and beneath the poster was, ‘Wanted for questioning in connection to Harry Potter.’

Ron was looking livid. Ron’s ploy of faking Spattergroit on a ghoul had worked to some extent. So far, Ron had an alibi and he was safe. But he and Hermione were wanted criminals now and they had no recourse, so they had to be extra careful.

His gaze fell on Hermione, he saw the panic on her face and in her eyes. Was she regretting ever befriending him? Probably not, but by all rights, she should be. Ron beside her was just trying to process his shock. At that moment, he made the decision to protect them both at all costs, even if it killed him, Ron and Hermione were going to live, they were going to make it out alive, he would make sure of that.

“Harry, Hermione,” Remus said seriously, “The Death Eater I took these posters from last night, he was not far away from here. It seemed as though he was waiting in one place. And with these posters, I can only assume that he was waiting for either of you.”

Harry immediately turned to her, “The groceries. Hermione, where did you go to get them?”

Remus looked shocked at the news that they had gone out, Ron turned to Hermione as well, she said looking panicked, “City Road.”

Hearing the answer, Remus seemed distressed, “That’s close enough to where I ran into the Death Eater. Someone must have spotted you on the way there or back.”

Hermione looked a little shaken, “How could they have spotted me? I was under Harry’s cloak and I used all the privacy spells when I was there and back. I specifically went farther to avoid suspicion.”

“Don’t underestimate the resources the Death Eaters now have on their hands. We must at all times assume that they have the means to track virtually anyone.”

Harry nodded at Remus’s summation, “He’s right. We shouldn’t underestimate Riddle or his followers. But…whatever it is, Hermione, you obviously did something right. They may have spotted you, but they couldn’t find you or capture you. You made it back here, unharmed.”

Ron’s lips thinned as he said it, Ron quickly told Hermione, “Well, that’s it, you’re not going outside anymore.” Leaving no room for argument.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ron at that, “Stop being thick, Ron.”

“I’m being thick?” Ron shot back.

He agreed with Ron, going out now that they were wanted by the Ministry was unwise. But he was also under no illusion. They would have to go out at some time, there wasn’t much that they could do while trapped inside the house.

“We’ll figure something out, okay?” He interjected diffusively before they could start bickering again.

“There’s more,” Remus’s words snapped them all back to the matter at hand, “I heard rumours about another mass break-out of Azkaban. This time, the Ministry has released every criminal we’ve managed to put away all these years. They’re keeping it quiet. We have to assume the worst, that all those low-lives will now gladly be working for you-know-who and his Ministry. That means he now has an army.”

He sighed at that point. There was absolutely no good news whatsoever. But he also knew that things could be even direr than this, so he took this as a better situation than the absolute worst-case scenario and hence took comfort from it.

“What’s Riddle planning for Hogwarts?” Hermione asked Remus and that served to distract him. He thought about Ginny who would be going back to Hogwarts alone this year. He thought about Luna and Neville as well.

“Attendance is now compulsory for every young witch and wizard. It’s a change because it was never obligatory before. Of course, nearly every witch and wizard in Britain has been educated at Hogwarts, but their parents had the right to teach them at home or send them abroad if they preferred. This way, you-know-who will have the whole Wizarding population under his eye from a young age. And it’s also another way of weeding out Muggle-borns because students must be given Blood Status – meaning that they have to prove to the ministry that they are of wizard descent – before they are allowed to attend.”

Harry felt sickened and angry. At this moment, excited eleven-year-olds would be poring over stacks of newly purchased spell books, unaware that they would never see Hogwarts, perhaps never see their families again either.

“It’s appalling…” He muttered angrily.

“I know.”

“Are there any – plans?” He asked, “I mean the Order, are you planning anything against Riddle?”

Remus shook his head at that, “There is nothing we can do at this point. Our numbers are low, we are all being monitored and we can’t even freely meet each other to discuss anything. For now, we’re keeping our heads down and surviving. It doesn’t mean we’ve given up, but you need to know when to move and know when not to. Right now, it’s not the time to move.”

He nodded in agreement. With Moody’s death, things were already dire, with now the Ministry falling, it only made sense for them all to stay down and recuperate.

Remus hesitated, the skin wrinkled on his forehead as he asked, “I’ll understand if you can’t confirm this, Harry, but the Order is under the impression that Dumbledore left you a mission.” Remus slowly broached the subject.

Both Ron and Hermione looked to him, looking whether or not he would confirm the Order’s suspicion to Remus.

“He did…” He replied, confirming the theory, “…and Ron and Hermione are in on it and they’ve chosen to help me.”

“Can you confide in me what the mission is?” Harry looked into the prematurely lined face, framed in thick but greying hair, and wished that he could return a different answer.

“I can’t, Remus, I’m sorry. It’s for your own good. The things we’re going after, the less the people know, the better. Under no circ*mstances can Riddle know that we’re on this mission.” He explained his reasoning.

“I thought you’d say that,” Remus said, looking disappointed, “But I ought to still to be of some use to you. You know what I am and what I can do. I could come with you to provide protection. There would be no need to tell me exactly what you were up to. I won’t ask.”

Harry hesitated. It was a very tempting offer, though how they would be able to keep their mission secret from Lupin if he were with them all the time, he had no idea.

Hermione, however, looked puzzled, “But what about Tonks?” She asked.

“What about her?” Remus asked sounding unconcerned.

“Well,” Hermione said frowning, “…you’re married. How does she feel about you going away with us?”

“Tonks will be perfectly safe.” Lupin replied easily, “She’ll be at her parents’ house.”

There was something strange in Remus’s tone; it was almost cold. There was also something odd in the idea of Tonks remaining hidden at her parents’ house; she was, after all, a member of the Order and an Auror at that, as far as Harry knew, she was the type to want to be in the thick of the action.

“Remus,” Hermione asked tentatively in worry, “…is everything all right…you know…between you and…”

Hermione's question told him that she had caught on to it as well, it reassured him that he wasn't just imagining it, or perhaps reading too much into it.

“Everything is fine, thank you.” Remus’s eyes narrowed as he said pointedly.

Hermione turned pink, as though she was a child being chastised by a teacher. There was another pause, an awkward and embarrassing one, and then Remus said, with an air of forcing himself to admit something unpleasant, “Tonks is going to have a baby.”

“Oh, how wonderful!” Hermione squealed happily.

“That's great news!” Ron said enthusiastically.

But unlike them, he glared at Remus instead, not wanting to congratulate just yet, because suddenly he understood why Remus wanted to come away with them, “Just to be clear. You want to leave Tonks at her parents’ house and come away with us?”

Hermione and Ron looked at him. Remus looked at him as though he understood that he had already caught on to the reason why Remus was eager to join them.

“She’ll be perfectly safe there; they’ll look after her. Harry, I’m sure James would have wanted me to stick with you.” Remus said it as if he was making a case, which only made him angrier.

“Well, I’m not. I’m pretty sure my father would have wanted to know why you aren’t sticking with your own kid, actually.” His voice gained a bit of venom in it.

Lupin’s face drained of colour. The temperature in the kitchen might have dropped ten degrees in an instant. Ron stared around the room as though he had been ordered to memorize it, while Hermione’s eyes swivelled backwards and forward from Harry to Lupin.

“You don’t understand,” Lupin said at last.

“Explain, then.” He said that ruthlessly, as he stared right at the man.

Lupin swallowed, “I-I made a grave mistake in marrying Tonks. I did it against my better judgment and I have regretted it very much ever since.”

“I see…, so - you’re just going to dump her and the kid and run off with us?”

Lupin sprang to his feet, his chair toppled backwards, and he glared at them so fiercely that Harry saw, for the first time, the shadow of the wolf upon his human face. Just a week ago, he would have cowered, but now, he just glared back equally harshly. Hermione and Ron had caught on, he could tell.

“Don’t you understand what I’ve done to my wife and my unborn child? I should never have married her; I’ve made her an outcast!” Lupin kicked aside the chair he had overturned.

“You have only seen me amongst the Order, or under Dumbledore’s protection at Hogwarts! You don’t know how most of the Wizarding world sees creatures like me! When they know of my affliction, they can barely talk to me! Don’t you see what I’ve done? Even her own family is disgusted by our marriage, what parents want their only daughter to marry a werewolf? And the child – the child –”

Lupin seized handfuls of his own hair; he looked quite deranged, “My kind don’t usually breed! It will be like me; I am convinced of it – how can I forgive myself when I knowingly risked passing on my condition to an innocent child? And if by some miracle, it is not like me, then it will be better off, a hundred times so, without a father of whom it must always be ashamed!”

‘BANG!’ The handle on the tankard snapped under the pressure, sending it skidding on its side and the remaining butterbeer spilt all over the table and started dripping down the edges. He hadn’t even known that he had been gripping it and squeezing it so hard to the point that it snapped under the pressure, he just felt the sheer rage in his blood. He let go of the handle in his hand and felt it shaking as he squeezed it into a fist.

Hermione recoiled and jumped up to her feet, tears already welling up in her eyes as she desperately tried to control herself. Whatever she wanted to say was cut off when Harry stood up looking furious.

“Do you love her?” He asked trying desperately to reign in his flaring temper.

“W-what?” Remus stumbled.

“Do you…love…Tonks?” He uttered each word harder.

Remus remained silent for a long minute, eyes going from him to Ron to Hermione and then back to him, “Yes.”

“Then it doesn’t matter what everyone else thinks!” He almost yelled, “f*ck them all!”

“Harry,” Hermione muttered on instinct.

He took a calming breath, “If the new regime thinks that Muggle-borns are bad.” He began softer than before, “What will they do to a half-werewolf whose father is in the Order? My father died trying to protect mum and me, and you reckon he’d tell you to abandon your kid to go of on - an adventure with us?”

“How – how dare you?” Remus swallowed, “This is not about a desire for…for danger or personal glory. How dare you suggest such a…”

“I think, you’re feeling a bit of a daredevil yourself. You fancy stepping into Sirius’s shoe…”

“Harry, no!” Hermione begged him, but he continued to glare into Lupin’s livid face.

“I’d never have believed this,” He continued, “The man who taught me to fight dementors, a coward.”

Lupin drew his wand so fast that he had barely gripped his own. There was a loud bang and he felt himself flying backwards as if he was punched in his teeth, but in mid-air, from the position his arm was angled at, he misfired a non-verbal Stunner on instinct. The spell missed, but the chair it landed on, flew into Remus’s legs and the man went sprawling to the floor. While he was slammed back into the kitchen wall and slid to the floor. A bump on the back of his head was already forming and throbbing.

Remus shook himself and was on his feet, intending on leaving, Hermione was screaming, “Remus, Remus, come back!” That got him to his senses, he raised his hand and blindly fired another spell on Remus’s moving figure, a nonverbal Knockback hex. The hex caught Remus unaware, he fell, which gave him the time he needed to get back on his feet as he pursued after the man he considered his honorary uncle.

“Expelliarmus!” He yelled as Remus who was getting up, the wand in his hand went flying.

Disoriented as he was, he honed Remus at the tip of his wand. Hermione was wailing, “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!”

He grabbed Hermione by her arm and moved her aside and away from his line of fire, Remus lunged at him, but he had expected that, he instantly fired another non-verbal Knockback hex, which landed squarely on his chest and the man went to the floor yet again.

“Harry!” Hermione wailed, “How could you?”

“Stay out of this, Hermione!” He yelled silencing.

Ron stepped in, grabbed his shoulder and yelled at him, “Don’t you start on her!”

The objects in the room trembled at his violent magic. “RON!” He shrugged the grip and gave one glare aimed at Ron, his darkest, most furious one of them all and Ron’s eyes went wide. Feeling the anger, Ron stayed out of it, looking annoyed. While he knew in his core that if he cast the Unforgiveable curse that he had cast on Bellatrix, now it would have hurt her. He was that mad, barely in control of himself.

He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, he pulled Sirius’s last letter, dropping the wallet in the process, he threw the letter to Remus’s feet, and he growled, “Read it.”

Remus didn’t even move to pick the letter, it grated on his nerves, “READ IT!” He yelled.

The old wolf who was still glaring as he nursed his chest, tentatively reached for the letter and unfurled it open. He saw Remus’s eyes widening as he recognised Sirius’s handwriting. It started with hesitancy, but in moments, Remus was hungrily reading the letter. By the end of it, he didn’t know how many times Remus must have read it, but the old wolf was sitting on the floor dejectedly, his back against the wall, his elbow resting on his folded knee as he covered his eyes and part of his forehead with one hand.

He didn’t know when he had lowered the wand or when he went to the opposite wall and placed his forehead against it. He felt the back of his head throbbing, the pain finally registered but his anger ebbed away and something else took root.

“He just wanted me to come home, Remus.” He told the man, his voice broke, “That’s all he wanted.”

At Remus’s silence, he continued, “Parents, shouldn’t leave their kids unless – unless they’ve got to. Kids, they – they won’t understand why. They’ll blame themselves for your absence. Grow up thinking that they didn’t deserve to be loved. That – that, they bloody well don’t deserve to be treated with a modicum of humanity.” At that point, he was struggling to hold his tears.

He saw it, images of himself, crying in the darkness of his cupboard, calling for his mum and dad, hungry and thirsty, on his birthday night of all things. Remus hadn’t been there, Dumbledore hadn’t been there, no one had come to his rescue, no matter how much he had cried. He had to survive that on his own.

It weighed on him as he said it, “Fathers protect their family, their children, that’s their most important duty. I don’t remember much about dad, but I remember Riddle’s memories of that night well enough, he stood there and took that Killing Curse to buy some time for mum and me. As brave as a Gryffindor, Riddle said it himself. You couldn’t be there for me; I don’t blame you. You trusted Dumbledore to look after me, I wasn’t your burden to bear, I understand all that. But I’m a grown-up now, I don’t need your protection or help now. Be there for your kid. Remus, don’t abandon the child. Not for your guilt or fear.”

When he finished, he felt calmer than he had ever felt before. Someone grabbed his shoulder and forcibly turned him from the wall. An instant later, he felt Hermione hugging him tightly, so tight that he couldn’t even move, almost as if she was expecting him to pry himself away, but for the first time, he didn’t want to. He had always kept Hermione and Ron at arm’s length, but he didn’t have the strength to fight them tonight. She seemed dead set on worming her way in as she whispered, “You’re not a burden.” His eyes fell on Ron, who looked uncertain and staring at his own feet.

He only pried himself away from her grip when Remus stood up. He gazed at him, staring at the broken looking man, “Protect Tonks, protect that child. We can work something out.”

Hermione chimed in at that point, “Remus, Harry withdrew all the gold from his bank, I have some money too. We can buy the potion ingredients and brew Wolfsbane for your nights if that’ll help.”

Ron stepped closer to them, “I agree with them too. We can make it work.”

Remus looked at them all, conflicted.

Hermione then turned to him, “We can use some help with the mission, Harry. With the Undesirable posters, we don’t have many options. We don’t have to tell him what the mission itself is, but it would be useful to have someone who knows magic as thoroughly as Remus on our side. Remus can travel outside more freely than we can. We can call on him with Patronus when we need help.”

He considered Hermione’s suggestion. It was the perfect solution to their answer, Remus wouldn’t be with them, but with Tonks and the child, looking after them, but when they needed assistance, Remus would be there to help them with questions and doubts, perhaps even bring them messages and news from the outside.

“Okay,” He agreed with her.

With that, he turned to Remus who was standing there still looking dejected, “Remus?”

The silence ensued for a minute.

“I’ll be there,” Remus said slowly.

For the first time all day, he smiled, wiping that tear away at the edge of his eye with the back of his hand. Hermione and Ron both smiled as well and he felt a little proud. Remus slowly walked to the door, but looked back at them for a second, “Send a Patronus when you need me.”

“I have to go,” Remus said as he opened the door and almost slammed it close immediately. They heard the noise of a car backfiring a moment later and they knew that Remus was gone.

They stood there in silence for some minutes. As Hermione finally released the grip on his hand, he bent down and picked up his wallet from the floor and noticed that Sirius’s letter was missing. Remus had taken it with him. He didn’t know how to feel about that. He had his closure, he was making his peace with that, maybe Remus needed it more than he did.

He wondered what Sirius and his father would have thought of him. Would they have wanted Remus to come with him, or would they have told off Remus the way he had, or would they have chastised him for treating their friend that way? He couldn’t tell, and that weighed on him.

He turned to his friends, “Hermione, Ron, I’m sorry about – all of it. I was…angry.”

“It’s alright,” Hermione said, wiping away her own tears.

Ron just gave a hesitant nod, “It’s fine, mate.”

An apology was all he could give. Did he deserve it? Probably not. But one thing stuck with him, he had some issues he needed to work through. He couldn’t keep breaking down like this in front of everyone.

Library –

The rain hadn’t stopped. It began once again an hour ago and it was still pouring. The dullness in the clouds resembled the mood inside the house. After Remus had left last night, they had found Skeeter’s splurge about Dumbledore from Bathilda Bagshot in the paper Remus had brought. Hermione had fumed in regret for not making Skeeter pay when she had the chance. Ron had grumbled about the woman too. And they were both surprised when he had nothing to say about Dumbledore’s defamation.

In the end, Hermione had healed the bump on the back of his head, and then they had all gone to bed. It wasn’t until he woke up early in the morning, that the gravity of their situation finally sunk in. At breakfast, he realised that everything had changed. The world seemed colder and smaller. And from the Ron and Hermione behaved, he knew that they had noticed the effects as well.

Ron was holding the Firebolt Supreme as he asked, “Come on, just for a few hours. I don’t want to fly by myself. I’d reckon it’d do you wonders.”

“Flying?” He asked with a smirk, “How is that a priority?”

“We could play chess, if you’d like,” Ron offered, sighing.

“Mate, games are not what we should be worrying about. I’ve been thinking about more dangerous spells that we can use non-verbally. Expelliarmus and Stunners are not enough, not anymore. Now that I’m the most wanted man in the country, Death Eaters won’t hold back, we shouldn’t too.” He had been thinking about his spell repertoire all morning as he cooked.

“I know all that,” Ron shrugged, “- but we need to relax a little. Things have been awful since we left the wedding. We have plenty of time to work on our spells.”

Harry just stared at Ron for a moment and bit back the response he had at the tip of his tongue. He didn’t have it in him to tell Ron that things were going to become much, much worse. He was sure that Ron knew that as well, but Ron was underestimating just how much matters were going to devolve into. Besides, a part of him appreciated Ron’s effort to lighten the mood.

That’s when Hermione entered the library, looking fresh, the long bath agreed with her. At breakfast, she had been a mess. Ron grimaced instantly, shifting uncomfortably at Hermione’s presence in the room, which struck him as odd.

Hermione gave Ron a stare and said, “Hey…” A hint of annoyance in the way she said it.

Ron looked abashed, “Hey,” Ron quickly turned to him, “I’ll be in the Trunk, call me if you need me.” With that, Ron turned to leave quickly.

‘Okay, I’m not imagining things. Something happened between them.’ He had noticed a certain indifference between them at breakfast, but he had his thoughts to work through, so he had chalked it off as paranoia.

“Is everything alright?” He asked before Ron could leave.

Ron slowed in his tracks but then continued walking away, disappearing past the door, pretending as if he hadn’t heard him. Meanwhile, Hermione sighed at his question, “We had a little argument last night.”

“A little?” He asked sceptically.

“Let it go, Harry.” She snapped warningly, which confirmed that it wasn’t just a little row.

Why wasn’t he surprised? At this point, he should have assumed that automatically. Especially, after last night, he had hoped that they would both try not to bicker. Hermione didn’t want to explain further, and he got the message.

“What are you reading?” Hermione asked half-heartedly as she went towards the shelves.

“Paralysis Spell.” He replied grimly, “I’ve been thinking of adding a Paralysis Spell into my repertoire.”

Hermione gave him a bemused look, “Like the Freezing Charm?”

He winced at that, “No.” He said slowly, “This is a curse. Enervo. It paralyzes the opponent – permanently.”

Within moments she was rushing to him, snatching the book from his grasp as she scanned its contents. It only took a minute before she asked, “H-Harry, why – why are you reading this? This is – this is – dark…”

He wouldn’t call it dark, but it certainly wasn’t light magic either. In a sense, the spell was similar to the bone-breaking hex which did two tiers of damage, physical trauma and internal magical damage on top of that. The Paralysis Curse did something similar. The first was the severe internal trauma to the body, the second was the draining of magic. Magic would uncontrollably drain from the internal wound where the spell landed, making it difficult for the damage to heal by the internal magic. If not contained or countered immediately, the internal physical damage would become permanent and thereby disrupt the witch or wizard’s ability to control magic, essentially paralyzing them. The book said that skilled spell users can absorb the draining magic from the victim and use it to replenish their own magic if needed. Although it seemed dangerous on paper, the downside was that it was too easy to defend against, the usual Protego defence was more than enough to deflect it.

Hermione’s stare intensified and he didn’t look at her when he decided to rationalize it, “Because it’s necessary.”

“Necessary? How is this –” She scoffed but stopped, “You were the one who said that we shouldn’t stoop to their level. Remember?” He had of course told Remus that after reaching the Burrow, when they had been talking about what the Death Eaters thought of as his signature move.

“That was before everything, Hermione.” He told her firmly, “Things have changed. We have to take drastic measures now.” He wanted to add, ‘You’re Undesirable No.2, you have to agree.’ But he kept that to himself.

“Harry –”

He immediately held his hand up, “It doesn’t mean, I’m going to paralyze people left and right, but it would be helpful if we at least learned about it. In case, we’re in trouble, which is bound to happen soon, if there’s no other way, then I think this spell would be useful.”

She remained strangely silent. After a moment, she placed the book back on the table and walked back to the shelves without a word. He sighed as he hesitantly reached for the book again and opened the pages. The silence in the library hung over his head, which he tried to put out of his head as he went back to studying the spell.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, which in reality was something close to ten minutes, Hermione called, “Harry?”

He looked up and she sighed, “Can you call Kreacher for me?”

He frowned at that, “Why?”

“I have a few questions for him.” She replied as she pulled a book out of the shelf.

“Can it wait until he’s found, Mundungus Fletcher? We need to find what happened to that locket.” He said, to which she seemed contemplative.

Biting her lips she gave him a look, but concurred, “Okay.”

Hermione never agreed with him that easily, which was odd. With her little argument with Ron, and her argument with him, he suspected that she was feeling isolated, he felt guilty. Whatever it was, she most often had insights and was often important. What if it was important? Why couldn’t he trust in her judgement a bit more?

“What exactly is it that you want to ask Kreacher about?” She could confide with him and if it was important, they could do this together with Ron.

She genuinely looked surprised that he was indulging her curiosity. She finally smiled a little and explained, “Do you remember Kreacher’s story about Regulus?”

Of course, he did. He had a nightmare about that Inferi lake from the cave since Kreacher’s story. When he gave a nod, she went on, “After Kreacher came back here, once Riddle left him there to die, Regulus obviously must have investigated. How did he conclude that the locket was a Horcrux? I was wondering what information he had that led him to that conclusion?”

He immediately sat up straight. Not for a single second had he thought about it. How did Regulus know that the locket was a Horcrux? Hermione’s doubt was valid. It was after all a big jump from an enchanted locket to a Horcrux.

“We know that Regulus must have asked Kreacher all sorts of questions, he did leave an exact replica of the locket in the cave, after all, that’s attention to detail. But if we knew what kinds of questions, he had asked Kreacher, we might find out where to start ourselves. Moreover, we can learn his thought process on the matter and what kind of conclusions he may have reached, maybe then we’ll find out more information about the Horcruxes by itself. If Regulus was in the inner circle of Death Eaters at the point in time, then maybe Riddle had more Horcruxes on his person that he hid, maybe Regulus knew about them.”

“Hermione, that’s brilliant!” He breathed out in a mixture of perturbed shock.

“I’ll call Kreacher right away.”

“No, no, wait…” She stopped him, “Wait, you were right. We can call him later this evening with some food and then we can interrogate Kreacher.”

He rolled his eyes at Hermione’s overwhelming empathy for the old elf, but he agreed with her. Knowing Hermione, she would probably catalogue all of her questions first and might want to go in prepared. That was just her style.

“There’s also something else I wanted to ask you.” She said more hesitant than before.

She had a hard time maintaining eye contact, “After listening to Kreacher’s story about the cave. I’ve been wondering – I’ve been –”

Harry waited patiently for her to ask, “Did you ever wonder why Dumbledore chose to take you with him? Professor McGonagall could have helped him. Moody could have helped him. Why did he take you instead?”

He didn’t want to go down this road of questioning, Hermione might find out things he didn’t want her knowing just yet, but he had a good answer at hand, “Anyone else would have asked questions. Dumbledore didn’t want anyone else to know about the Horcruxes.”

“Don’t you find that suspicious?” She shot back, “The entire Order was dedicated for the specific reason of fighting you-know-who, and then he didn’t use any of their help.”

Harry felt the dread in his throat, he had to derail her, as horrible as he felt about it, he had no choice. “Suspicious? Not really, no.” He lied, shrugging his shoulder easily in an attempt to make it seem normal.

Hermione looked unconvinced, but she also looked like maybe she had misread the whole thing. Whatever his response had done, it certainly hadn’t convinced her, but it had successfully derailed her for now. He pondered how long he would have to keep this up and hide the truth about Dumbledore’s manipulations from them.

In the end, it wasn’t about Dumbledore at all, it was about the consequences. If Hermione and Ron decided that they didn’t want to be a part of Dumbledore’s holy mission, there would be nothing he could do to stop them from leaving. Then he would be alone, and he wasn’t sure if he could do it alone. It was selfish, he knew that. Unlike him, Ron and Hermione had the possibility of a life away from all this, but his destiny was tied to the core of this conflict. He wouldn’t blame them for wanting to leave. If he could leave, he would have.

He would have to tell them soon enough, but how? He didn’t know. ‘Some Gryffindor, you are.’ A voice that sounded oddly like his mum chastised him inside his head. He promised himself that he would tell them when he had a better case to argue with to convince them to stay.

Another promise to be kept.

Harry was broken out of his thoughts when Hermione offered a way out, “I’ve been thinking of a way for us to test the Animus spell –” He listened as she went on about her plan, thankful for the distraction.

Chapter 6: Heritage

Chapter Text

Grimmauld Place –

Harry’s gaze landed on the bald unconscious man bound to the chair. Ron had his wand pointed at Mundungus’s forehead. Hermione stood a little beside him and behind Ron observing the thief, Remus stood behind him. Kreacher was next to Ron, with a saucepan in his hand, aimed ready to strike the thief over the head again. Fletcher’s left eye was swollen shut, almost as if someone had punched him out cold.

“How did you find him?” He looked back at Remus.

“There aren’t many places that scum like him can sell pilfered items these days,” Remus replied and he scrunched his face in confusion.

“That’s hard to believe.” He blinked owlishly.

Remus simply shook his head, “No, it’s not. Nowadays, every single criminal roaming free is working for the Ministry, they do what they’re told to do by Death Eaters, either out of fear or to satisfy their violent needs. No one’s allowed to work for themselves. Knockturn Alley is abuzz with almost every illegal activity that we thought was eradicated in the country, and now they’re fully sanctioned by the Ministry. They don’t have any need to freelance. The Ministry’s got plenty of work for them and they get rewarded handsomely for it. And the Death Eaters are keeping those who want to freelance, in check.”

He understood the logic behind that. Control the criminals, the people won’t revolt out of fear, which in turn gives them the freedom to do whatever they want. Ron shifted uncomfortably at the information and Hermione looked particularly troubled by Remus’s answer.

“What sort of activities are we talking about?” He asked trying to get a clear picture.

Remus’s expression turned sour, “I don’t know the full extent. Too many things are happening all at once. Everyone involved already know the details, so I can’t go asking any questions without tipping my hand.”

Harry observed Remus for a bit longer, he could tell that Remus knew more than he let on and was hesitant to divulge more details. He trusted in Remus’s judgement and chose not to ask further even though he hated the fact that they were being treated like children.

Five days ago, when Remus had walked out, he hadn’t expected the man to make amends that quickly and come back into their lives. He assumed Remus went straight back to the Tonks's residence. Because Tonks had sent them a Patronus message the next morning thanking them for what they did to set Remus straight.

So far, Remus was the only one helping them, they unanimously decided not to involve the rest of the Order in the mission, he had been particular about that much. The only people who had confirmation about the existence of Dumbledore’s mission itself were Remus, Tonks and Andromeda.

As that bit of drama was going on, elsewhere they had called Kreacher back and interrogated the elf about Regulus. Hermione’s list of enquiries was quite long. Kreacher had told them the nature of questions Regulus had asked Kreacher, the answers Kreacher had given Regulus, how long after did Regulus come back to Kreacher for help, where Regulus had gone the days after while Kreacher had recuperated. And thankfully, the interrogation had helped immensely, they found Regulus’s meticulous notes, books, documents, the entirety of it from a secret hiding place that Kreacher knew of. Besides the books, everything else was encrypted and they were trying to decrypt it but without much luck so far.

Once that was done, Kreacher had gone back to find Mundungus. Since Kreacher was having a hard time cornering Fletcher, Hermione had suggested sending a message to Remus asking for help in tracking down Mundungus. And they had done so.

While they waited, Ron had started training himself. Hermione remained busy decrypting Dumbledore’s book and Regulus’s notes, while also testing the Animus spell. He started on the Occulumency technique Sirius had mentioned in his letter. The Midas technique was brilliant. He practised it every night.

The very first step was to sit in the centre of a completely dark room and meditate. The books guided him on how to use the Occulumency spell, a spell he didn’t even know how to perform, thanks to his great teachers. The spell allowed him to visualise the darkroom as an empty space and to make that room the mental representation of a clear mind. It was far, far superior to Snape’s method of yelling ‘clear your mind’ over and over again while using Legilimency to attack his mind, making him relive his most hellish memories.

Besides, the method itself wasn’t just about using Occulumency to defend against Legilimens, it was a therapeutic practice all around. He used it to clear his mind instantaneously when confused, to hold his temper when irritated, and to be more patient when bored. It had a significant effect on his thinking itself, his spellcasting was now more precise and powerful, and it had even lessened the frequency of his nightmares. Ron and Hermione were shocked when he had told them that Snape hadn’t even bothered teaching him the spell.

Hermione’s question broke him out of his musing, “If you don’t mind me asking, Remus, how are you using the Floo without alerting the Ministry?”

He turned to see her ask Remus, whose eyes didn’t divert from Fletcher, “Tonks’s idea. The Ministry cannot monitor the Floo network of a house under Fidelius protection. The Fidelius cannot be bypassed that way.”

Hermione shook her head as she clarified her question, “But the Floo in Tonks’s house, wouldn’t that have been monitored? They monitored the fireplaces at Hogwarts to look into Floo calls and Hogwarts in Unplottable. Floo Networks connections leave residual magic between connected properties.”

“No need to worry on that front.” Remus answered reassuringly, “I didn’t come from Tonks’s house. And they wouldn’t be monitoring the Floo I came from. It is the family home of an old friend of mine. Marlene. She’s dead – her family too. The house itself is in ruins – the wards on the grounds however are still strong. I placed it under Fidelius myself three days ago and reconnected the fireplace to the Floo briefly. I have to reconnect it every time I use it because without the authorization spell from the Ministry’s end the connection will fade away. It’s illegal, but there’s nothing the Ministry can do about it.”

“Marlene? Marlene McKinnon?” He asked curiously, he remembered Mad-Eye pointing the woman out to him, and he remembered her name in his mum’s letter to Sirius. Remus confirmed his query with a sombre nod.

Hermione on the other hand looked keen, “Is this house another safe house now?”

Remus shook his head, “No. Unfortunately, it’s not – liveable. More of a way station than a safe house. I’m also planning to use it next week on the nights of the 17^th through 19^th for my monthly transformations.”

They all shifted a little at the answer. Discussing Remus’s conditions was still a sore point. It was already too late to brew the potion for Remus, so he would have to suffer through this month’s transformation. And even if they could brew it, they didn’t have the potion ingredients for it.

“Do you know how they penetrated the defences on my house? The house was under Fidelius too, wasn’t it?” Ron asked sounding curious.

Ron had asked them the same question after they had broken the Taboo during his argument with Hermione and more Death Eaters had started watching the house with renewed interest. Ron had been wondering if it was in some way possible to break the Fidelius. Even though Hermione had explained to Ron that it wasn’t possible, Ron wasn’t convinced. Ron feared for his family’s safety a bit too often ever since Remus’s first visit and they didn’t blame him for that.

Remus folded his arms as he explained, “While the property was under the Fidelius, it was also made open to guests via the invitations. Death Eaters – must have had at least one of the guests under their control – that’s how they must have gotten access. Sturgis Podmore never came to the wedding and he was one of the guests with the invite that had the address. If that isn’t the case, then someone willingly gave up the location. We can only assume –”

Their conversation finally woke Mundungus, whose eyes shot open and he immediately started struggling against the binds, “Don’t even think about it.” Ron growled, closing his wand to the skin.

“What?” Fletcher bellowed, “What’ve I done? Setting a bleedin’ ouse-elf on me – and him!” Mundungus glared at Remus.

Remus cracked in knuckles and glared back at the thief, “Be glad that I didn’t cave in your skull, Fletcher. You should have thought twice before trying to use the Cruciatus on me.”

His eyes narrowed while Hermione gasped and Ron growled at the thief in anger. Mundungus’s eyes fell on each one of them and he was immediately afraid, gulped audibly and glanced at them nervously, “What do ya want? What do ya want?” His voice panicked and grew louder.

Harry for his credit remained calm, “We’ve got a few questions for you, Fletcher.” His voice was impassive as ever.

“I panicked, okay? I never wanted to come along, no offence, mate, but I never volunteered to die for ya, an’ that was bleedin’ You-Know-Who come flying at me, anyone woulda got outta there, I said all along I didn’t wanna do it—”

“For your information, none of the rest of us Disapparated,” Hermione glared at the pitiful cowardly man.

“Well, you’re a bunch of bleedin’ ’eroes then, aren’t ya, but I never pretended I was up for killin’ myself—”

“We’re not interested in why you ran out on Mad-Eye.” He said calmly, raising his wand to Mundungus’s baggy, bloodshot eyes, “We already knew you were an unreliable bit of scum.”

Fletched stammered in fear and anger, “Well then, why the ‘ell am I being hunted down by ouse-elves and werewolves? Or is this about them goblet again? I ain’t got none of ’em left, or you could ’ave ’em –”

“Shut up and listen,” He said with a hint of impatience, the man was testing his nerves, “This isn’t about the goblets. But when you cleaned out this house of anything valuable, you –”

Mundungus interrupted him, “Sirius never cared about any of ‘em junk –”

‘THUD!’ Harry gave a heavy right cross to Mundungus’s cheekbone, right around where Remus must have punched him before. The chair wobbled sideways at the force of his punch and almost tipped over, but landed back down on its feet, while Mundungus looked disoriented, moaning in pain.

After he punched him, he calmed himself down, practising the Midas technique in the back of his mind as he tried to maintain his Occulumency barriers up. Even though, the technique helped immensely, controlling his emotions was still a very difficult task.

“I remember telling you to shut up and listen,” He warned the thief in a steady voice, who looked at him in pain and fear. Neither Ron, Hermione, nor Remus seemed too keen on helping the thief, “Kreacher, if he interrupts again, give him a whack.”

“Thank you very much, Master.” Kreacher was very pleased to obey and readied the saucepan eagerly.

“Okay, okay, I’ll tell ya what I know –”

“When you stripped this house of all the valuables you could find,” Harry began again, “…you took a bunch of stuff from the kitchen cupboard. There was a locket there. What did you do with it?”

“Why?” Mundungus’s eyes gleamed, “Is it valuable?”

‘WHAM!’ That question was followed by Kreacher giving a whack on Fletcher’s head. Kreacher looked pleased, while Fletcher looked like he was going to cry.

“You’ve still got it!” Hermione asked eagerly despite her distaste for the violence.

“No, he hasn’t got it.” Ron replied shrewdly, “He’s wondering whether he should have asked more money for it.”

“More?” Mundungus winced in pain, “…that would have been effing bloody difficult – bleedin’ gave it away, didn’t I? No choice.”

“What do you mean?” Remus asked shrewdly.

“I was sellin’ in Diagon Alley, and she comes up to me and asks if I’ve got a license for trading magical artefacts. Bleedin’ snoop. She was gonna fine me, but she took a fancy to the locket an’ told me she’d take it and let me off this time, and to think myself lucky.”

“Who was this woman?” Harry asked instantly, “Give me a name.”

“I dunno, some Ministry hag.” Mundungus considered for a moment, brows wrinkled.

“A name! Give me a name!” He demanded as his wand closed in on him and Kreacher got ready with the saucepan again.

Mundungus gulped audibly and hurried, “I don’t know her name. I swear. I swear. She was a – she was a little woman. Wore pink, all pink. Bow on top of her head –” Fletcher frowned and then added, “Looked like a toad!”

He turned to Ron with his mouth hanging open, Ron looked at him the same way. Hermione was staring at them both in shock and Remus looked disappointed, to say the least. This was a nightmare, it had fallen into the hands of a Ministry employee, the worst of them being Dolores Umbridge.

As Ron and Hermione were recovering from their shock, he turned to Remus, “Moony, I need your help.”

Remus gave a nod, “What do you need?”

“Erase everything from his mind. About this house, about the Order, everything. He doesn’t need to know anything of importance and then let him go.”

“Consider it done,” Remus said to him confidently, “I’ll need Kreacher’s help. And about that other thing, you asked, Andromeda, has agreed to help with Kreacher.”

“Brilliant…” He told Kreacher immediately, “Kreacher, could you go with Remus and help him for me?”

“Yes, Master,” Kreacher bowed, “Can Kreacher now whack the thief?”

He glanced at Mundungus who was pleading with his one open eye, he then turned to Remus who just shrugged unconcerned, so he turned to Kreacher again, “Do as you please, Kreacher.”

Before Fletcher could even protest, Remus pulled out his wand and silenced the thief. Kreacher got to work and started whacking him over the head with the saucepan many times before Kreacher was done with all the pent-up rage. By then, Fletcher was sporting a few more bruises and looked comically cross-eyed in disorientation.

“Harry!” Hermione chastised him for permitting Kreacher to hurt Mundungus, while Ron just laughed at the show.

“What? Kreacher deserves some fun.” He shrugged again while she just huffed.

Remus just shook his head in slight amusem*nt and then continued, “I might have something to solve your potions problem.”

Potions would always be a problem because of the sheer number of ingredients needed. There was some in Sirius’s trunk, he had gotten enough of the same and some other ingredients during his trip to Carkitt Market, Hermione had some stockpiled herself, but other than that, many rarer ingredients were still lacking.

“You do?” Ron asked.

“Buying potions may not be ideal, it will invite questions. I spoke to Tom in Leaky; shops may not sell us ingredients without alerting the Ministry, but Tom’s been there a long time, he knows the suppliers themselves both in the country and outside. But we’re not that desperate yet. The Ollivanders have their own farms and greenhouses. They will supply us with what we want. If the ingredients are too rare, then we can think about contacting a few dealers offshore.”

“Seems risky,” Harry told him, thinking about the helpful innkeeper.

Hermione nodded with him, “I agree with Harry – but everything we do from now on is a risk.”

Remus chimed in, “She’s right. Besides, Tom won’t know that he’s passing your ingredients list. I’ll pick up the ingredients from the Ollivanders and deliver them to you, you lot can brew the potions you need. We’ll work out some way if – we need Tom to contact offshore dealers.”

He contemplated it for a minute and then gave the go-ahead, “Okay, we do it your way.”

Remus nodded at that, “If that’s all, then I’ll be on my way. The floo connection will dissolve soon, I have to get back.”

Soon enough, Remus had left through the Floo, Kreacher released the binds and levitated the unconscious thief and Disapparated away. The mood between them turned serious in an instant. Ron shifted before him in anticipation, Hermione however remained more reserved.

“It’s Umbridge. It has to be.” He said to them.

Ron agreed, “It is. Short, pink, looks like a toad. It’s a fair bet, I reckon.”

Hermione was one step ahead of them, “How are we going to get the locket from her?”

There was a short bout of silence in the room. He finally offered, “Can we ambush her at her home?”

“We’ll have to find out where she lives first and then find a way through the wards, without alerting the Ministry, and search for the locket there.” She replied and he sighed at the improbability of it.

Ron scoffed, “How are we supposed to find out where she lives? What if she carries it around? What if she’s wearing it? What if she stored it in Gringotts or somewhere?”

“What do you suggest we do then?” She asked trying not to be irritated.

“I don’t know,” Ron hesitated, “We know that she works at the Ministry.”

Hermione just gaped, “You want us to go to the Ministry? To the heart of the Death Eater controlled territory?”

“No –”

She interjected Ron, “Harry has a 10,000 Galleon bounty on his head!”

“You have a bounty too,” Ron mumbled only to get glared at.

“It’s a much safer option if we can ambush her outside, somewhere isolated. Umbridge is bound to go out somewhere, if we can find her and tail her, we just might get the opportunity to ambush her. We know she was at Diagon Alley when she found the locket.” She suggested instead.

Ron shot back, “How long are we supposed to tail her? And where? What if she Apparates, how will we tail her then?”

Before Hermione could counter back, he intervened, “Maybe, it’s not a bad idea.”

Ron looked at him like he had just grown a second head. He breathed in and thought back to the empty black room and he relaxed instantly, “The Ministry.” He clarified and watched as both Hermione’s and Ron’s eyes went wide in shock.

“You’re joking,” Ron said and asked at the same time, “Tell me you’re joking.”

“It was your idea!”

Ron sputtered, “W-well…I wasn’t being serious about that.”

Harry folded his arms and he rubbed his stubble with his left hand, “As she said, everything we do from here on out is a risk. We have time and some resources. The Ministry is the last place they’ll expect us to go. They won’t have people looking for us there.”

His best friends were recovering from their shocks, not fully though, but the reality was sinking in. Realising that he would have to make a better case to argue, “We can watch them every day, get prepared, find a way in and a way out. Let’s at least see if it’s doable.”

Hermione said slowly, “I need to think. We need to think this through. Let’s not jump to any hasty decision.”

“Okay.” Both he and Ron chorused their agreement.

It felt like just minutes ago he had fallen asleep after a tiring day of preparing and planning. Remus returned after three nights of suffering through his transformation, looking worn out and tired. He, Ron and Remus took turns watching the Ministry entrance under the invisibility cloak and mapped out the guard rotations. They checked for ingresses and egresses. So far, it’s been a week and they still haven’t made any progress.

His restless sleep ended abruptly when he felt his scar burning. As much as he wanted to go back to sleep, he knew it was pointless. Picking up his glasses from the bedside table, he wore them and realised that it was still very dark and he had woken up too early. Getting up, he went to the bathroom, switched on the light, splashed some cold water on his face and felt the pain on his forehead dulling against the cold.

And that’s when he noticed. His hand immersed in the coldness of the water; he felt a strange heat emanating from the Black ring. Inspecting the ring, his eyes widened as he noted that the stone on the ring had turned white. He thought back to what the goblin Brittleskin had told him that day in Gringotts.

If the stone turned white, that meant that the blood stored inside was now fused with his own. He was now blood-related to House Black. It made the inside of his mouth feel slippery, as though he was poisoned, and he wanted to spit it out. He told himself that it was a good thing, he tried to convince himself, but he didn’t like the idea of his blood being ‘purified’. He was not a pureblood and he had always preferred it that way because despite the Dursleys being wankers, he was just as proud of his mother’s heritage as he was of his father’s.

Thinking such serious thoughts, he exited the bathroom and went to his bedroom, but stopped when he felt something. A pull. Magic compelling him, pulling him towards the drawing-room. He didn’t know what it was, it felt like an echo of someone’s whisper, his instincts told him to follow it. It emanated from the ring itself.

Harry dragged his feet to the drawing-room, turning on the gas lamps wandlessly and non-verbally, a small milestone of magical control training he was proud of, he wandered to the tapestry wall. As soon as he stood before it, his hand automatically rose as if someone else was controlling him. He understood what he must do as if the instructions were engraved in his brain.

Twisting the head of the signet ring inwards, he placed his palm on the faded green fabric. He felt the magic drain from his body, he felt large amounts of his magic being drained by the tapestry and being channelled out via the ring.

It happened instantly, the green fabric caught on fire, and an eerie green flame emerged from around where his hand was fixed on the fabric. In an instant, it expanded outwards in all directions.

“f*ck!” He tried to pry off his arm from the tapestry, but he couldn’t move it.

He pulled out his wand and pointed it at his hand and said, “Finite!” It didn’t work. He still couldn’t move his hand.

He could only watch as the green flames travelled throughout the entire tapestry, engulfing the entire wall. Strangely, he didn’t feel any heat from the flames. The green flames halted at the edges but didn’t extinguish or spread to the wall behind it, instead it moved again. The flames returned from the edges to the centre of the wall and disappeared inside as if they had seeped into it. And then three separate puffs of flames emerged in two different places on the tapestry, one bigger than the other, and then all the flames died out entirely.

Finally, he could move his hand and he pulled forcefully, feeling his left-hand throbbing and going numb at the wrist. He breathed hard and did his best to catch his breath. He was about to call Ron and Hermione but didn’t, his eyes landed on the tapestry.

He scanned the tapestry and he realised that it looked brand new, as though it was thoroughly cleaned and repaired. The green fabric looked greener than ever; the gold thread glinted brightly in the light.

He moved to his left hand where he knew Sirius’s name was. The picture was fully repaired and no longer burned. Right underneath, Sirius’s embroidered picture was his picture with the name engraved in black thread, Harry James Potter-Black. The flames had created his place in the tapestry. His picture was connected to Sirius’s, but not in gold threads, but in black, indicating that, unlike others, he was not Sirius’s direct descendent but had merely inherited it. One other thing he noticed was the pictures of people who were dead were in black and white, while his picture was coloured. It indicated all the active members of the family.

This was ground-breaking. He never expected that his name would be included in the Black family tapestry. Neither had he expected that this would happen as the blood in the ring fused with his own and purified it or whatever.

It took him a moment to realise that the puff of green flame at the end was due to the creation of his name in the family tree. Feeling curious, he moved to the other place where the flames had emerged. He immediately noticed Andromeda’s picture repaired fully and underneath it, there was a new person added, Nymphadora Tonks. He smirked at the picture, which portrayed a black-haired dour-looking woman.

But his smile fell hard at Malfoy’s name on the tapestry, but it completely shattered in the next picture. He stumbled backwards and tripped on the carpet, falling on his arse as he stared at it in pure shock. There was no picture, just a name under an empty frame. Delphini Ella Riddle. This new person was directly under Bellatrix’s picture, it was connected in a golden thread, meaning that it was a direct descendent of Bellatrix, which could only mean that this new name was her daughter. The girl wasn’t a Lestrange. The surname Riddle left very little to the imagination.

Recovering from his paralysis, he stood up and rushed to Ron’s room, slamming on the door hard ‘THUD…THUD…THUD’ before he ran to Hermione’s and did the same thing again. Minutes later, he was frantically pulling a very annoyed Ron and a very drowsy Hermione to the tapestry.

“Can this wait?” Ron groaned with a yawn.

“No!”

As a few more minutes went by, Hermione stood there inspecting the name on the tapestry, while Ron was limp on the settee, looking visibly shaken.

“How did this happen?” She asked looking at the brand new and updated tapestry.

He showed her the ring, “I think the blood-birth ritual is complete. The stone’s turned white.”

During the first week, Hermione had found a few notes on the ritual, it wasn’t much but that was all there was in the library. It didn’t seem particularly interesting to either of them, it felt more like another archaic pureblood tradition that they didn’t care for. The ritual was initially designed as a way to legitimise children born out of wedlock, to induct them into the family tree, but it was very rarely used for that intended purpose. The ritual itself was convoluted by the Black Family’s pride in their blood purity and eventually evolved into a backward tradition.

“I felt compelled to come here and touch the tapestry.” He explained, “The moment I touched it, the tapestry caught on fire and then this…happened.”

“Compelled? What do you mean? Like you were Confunded or…Imperiused?” Hermione asked with a sense of alarm in her question.

“Neither,” He said surprising her, “It felt more like – like I knew what I had to do and felt the need to do it – if I had to choose between the two, I’d say it was almost like the Imperius, but without the forceful element of it. I could have stopped if I wanted to, I was curious so I went with it, but once I touched the tapestry, I couldn’t stop it. Does that make sense?”

Hermione just looked at the ring and then at the tapestry in concern, “Not really, no. This is troubling, Harry. This might be old magic and we’ll likely never find out any specific details.” She huffed in frustration.

He turned to Ron who was oddly silent and then looked back to her, “What do you both think?”

“This doesn’t change anything, Harry,” Hermione said in a low tone looking firmly at her feet.

“What do you mean? This changes things.”

Ron interjected at that point, “Does it though, mate? We still have a mission. We still have to find the Horcruxes and destroy them. And we still have to stop you-know-who. The fact that he now has a brat with Bellatrix, changes nothing.”

He stared at Ron grimly, because he knew that Ron was right. Voldemort has done too many things to ever be forgiven and besides he had no intention of sparing Riddle. It was his life or Riddle’s and he wanted to live, and if he had to kill Riddle, then he was going to do it. No matter how much he knew that vengeance wouldn’t solve anything, he wanted it. He wanted vengeance; Voldemort had to pay for his crimes.

But knowing that the two people he hated the most had a child together and that he planned on making the child an orphan, made his stomach curl. He wanted to argue that the child would be better off without those two as her parents, which was the truth, it still felt personal like he was personally planning on harming the girl.

“You’re right. What was I thinking?” He snarked.

“Harry, I understand,” Hermione stepped to him, “I do. After what you’ve gone through, I can see why this would change your – opinion. But we can’t let this derail our objective. This is bigger than us. This is for the fate of the world.”

Conflict. He hated conflict. He was always at the centre of it and he always had to make the hardest decisions ever. As much as he hated it, it was at the crux of conflict he was often the calmest.

“Look at the bright side.” She tried to cheer him up.

“What bright side?” He and Ron asked simultaneously, he asked it mockingly while Ron asked it curiously.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the two boys, “It’s obvious, isn’t it? Bellatrix. She means more to Riddle than just his most loyal enforcer. It’s another piece of the puzzle. Know your enemy if you want to predict their movements.”

Ron looked just as sceptical as he was, so he argued, “Riddle isn’t capable of love, Hermione. I don’t think he cares about Bellatrix’s wellbeing, only her usefulness to him. Which explains why she is in love with him, twisted as it is. Riddle cannot love others, only himself. Dumbledore made that very clear. He thought that was why my mother’s love for me was his downfall because he couldn’t understand it, he couldn’t comprehend why mum wouldn’t step out of the way even when facing death.”

“Maybe this girl was born out of a passionate mistake. Riddle could have even forced himself on Bellatrix, he’s certainly done that before. Bellatrix would see it as the absolute highest honour.”

Before she could reply, Ron stood up tiredly, “Why does any of this matter?”

“At two in the morning,” Ron slowly circled the settee and clapped him on his shoulders, “Let it go, mate.”

“I’m going back to…(yawn)…sleep.” Ron yawned again as he walked away to his room.

Hermione craned her neck and massaged her shoulder looking torn between wanting to rest and wanting to continue the discussion. Seeing Ron walk back to his door, he sighed, “Go,” He told her, “We can talk later.” She just gave him a thankful smile and turned around and proceeded to her bedroom.

As he heard the doors close, he pulled a chair over and sat on it, watching the tapestry intently. He was the head of the Black family, and this was his family now. As much as he loathed the majority of them, they were still magically connected to him.

On the tapestry, Andromeda’s name was her maiden name, Andromeda Black, and not her married one, so was the same for Narcissa and Bellatrix, but their children’s names however were different, Tonks, Malfoy, Riddle. He wondered why the girl had the Riddle surname, it wasn’t as if Riddle and Bellatrix were married, besides he wasn’t sure if they would even know Voldemort’s real name, to begin with. Even if the questions fascinated him as did the magic behind them, he didn’t have the mental faculty to want to explore them at the moment.

He spent the next hour staring at the tapestry before drifting off into a restless slumber on the couch.

August 26^th –

Hermione watched as Harry and Remus entered the library sporting equally serious expressions on their face. Ron who had been poring over the sheaves of notes and hand-drawn maps of the Ministry with her looked curious.

They were going forward with the Ministry infiltration plan. As per Remus, neither Tonks nor Kingsley knew the location of Umbridge’s house. They had hoped that as Aurors perchance they knew the location, but had no luck on that front. And now that Umbridge was insulated by Death Eaters and Voldemort, they had to assume that she would have further secured her home. Besides, they couldn’t track Umbridge whatsoever, which left the house infiltration plan unlikely, so the only option they had left was the Ministry infiltration plan.

“We found something,” Harry said giving them a lopsided grin.

That immediately elated her mood, “Is it, good news?”

“Great news –” Remus replied shortly before taking a seat.

Harry continued briskly, “Today was Umbridge’s birthday.”

She sighed in relief, “Thank god.” Birthdays meant workplace celebrations and that meant plenty of opportunities for gossip and information. And she was right in her assumption.

“It seems she forced everyone who works under her to throw a celebration for her. Since most of them despise her, they had so many nice things to say behind her back. We picked a few workers and Remus placed those Bugs in two of their pockets as they went in after lunch and we listened to them speak all day.”

Hermione was relieved that they were learning more and more information. She for one was not happy about going blindly into hostile territory and for the last two days, they had little to no luck learning anything new. She was glad about the Conjured surveillance Bees which was a brilliant idea but was starting to lose faith and this restored it. It was essentially Conjuring Bees and charming them with spying spells and using them as listening devices, Harry took to calling them what the Marauders had called them, ‘Bugs’. The Order members had come up with the idea during the first war and they’ve been using it ever since. Remus had taught them the chain spell.

“What did you find out?” Ron asked in interest.

“For one, Umbridge’s office is in Level One, now we know that for sure. She and a few others who’re running the Ministry are allowed to get to work via the Floo Network, but everyone else has to make the trip and use the worker’s entrance to get in. That’s why we haven’t seen her once in all this time watching the entrance. And none of them is happy about it. After lunch, we found out from a guard that new Anti-Disapparition Jinx and an Anti-Apparition Jinx have been enchanted on the Ministry grounds to prevent anyone from getting in or out.” She listened to Harry’s report.

She had to admit that it was a smart move, safeguarding the Ministry from possible infiltration. She had heard that was what Dumbledore had done last year at the Department of Mysteries to capture the Death Eaters.

Remus picked up from there, “There’s more. Umbridge is the one in charge of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission. They’re holding false trials for muggle-borns every day. Stripping them of their wands and sentencing them to Azkaban for no reason whatsoever. They were also whispering about Dementors…so it’s also possible – that someone’s been ‘Kissed’.”

Ron growled at that, “That – bitch –”

If she had hated Umbridge before, it was now turning into a pure loathing for that sorry excuse of a woman. If she hadn’t befriended Harry and Ron in school, or if she hadn’t been part of the Order, it would have been the same fate for her, stripped of her wand and sentenced to Azkaban, or worse subjected to the Dementor’s Kiss just for being born to her parents. How many people like her were suffering?

“We also found something else.” Harry walked closer and pointed at the map, “Here...”

She scrutinized what he was pointing at and asked, “What’s there? What are you pointing at?”

“It could be a way in for us,” Harry said seriously, “Or a way out.”

Remus interjected him, “We don’t know that yet, let’s not get our hopes up.”

She weighed in both Harry’s and Remus’s opinions and she asked, “What have you found.”

“There’s a small gap here…between the building walls –” Harry then dragged his finger in a straight line to another spot and he traced a box, “– a path from the road which leads to a small square space in between the buildings.”

Remus added, “We think it could be an alternative way in and out.”

“Are you sure?” She asked sceptically.

At her questioning look, Harry immediately explained. “Do you remember the fleet of Ministry Cars?”

“Yeah,” Ron’s eyes brightened, “What happened to them?”

Harry excitedly nodded, “They’re parked there. In that space, collecting dust. They aren’t using it. Looks like it’s been there for some time now.”

She automatically connected the dots, “Could it be that due to the new anti-muggle sentiment that they’re boycotting the use of anything that’s remotely connected to muggle technology?”

“That’s what we assumed.” Harry took off his glasses and pinched his nose before wearing them again.

Remus pointed at the map and added, “There is a door nearby. Guarded, by a tall wizard in black. Conversely, it could also be a trap. Low-security hidden door to tempt spies.”

Harry shrugged in agreement, “Could be. That’s why we can’t think of it as a way inside, but more as a possible escape route. In case we have to fight our way out.”

“Harry, tell me, every detail that you can remember. Distance, dimensions, the number of cars parked, everything…” She took a piece of parchment and started penning the details down as Harry recalled everything he remembered.

For the next hour, they discussed their strategy for the Ministry infiltration plan. Entry points, emergency exit plans, routes once inside, signals between them to identify each other in case of an emergency. It was unanimously agreed that they would prepare for the worst-case scenario, which was essentially walking into a trap and getting captured or killed the moment they set foot on the Atrium floor. They also decided that the secret car park entrance must be mapped fully before they included it in any of their plans.

Remus was looking for books containing spells that would help them map out the car park entrance. She watched as Harry stretched his body as he sat on the chair next to Ron and asked with his eyes closed, “So what have you two been doing all day?”

By now, she shouldn’t have been surprised by Ron’s lack of enthusiasm in her project, but it still did annoy her to hear him disinterestedly say, “We spent the bloody day charming rats.”

All Ron seemed to want to do when they were alone at home was snog, while that was an interesting idea, there was a time and place for everything. She wasn't Lavender, who was ready to to anything and give Ron everything he wanted. And that subconscious comparison that Ron automatically made with Lavender whenever she refused was vexing.

Harry’s eyes shot open, “I was wondering about that. Any progress with the rats?”

She schooled the budding frown on her lips and replied, “Yes. I was right. The brain chemistry of a human and a rat is much the same.”

“So, we were right. The spell is activating overlapping neural circuitry in the brain”

“Yes, Harry…” She exhaled bitterly, “We were.”

It started as a simple suggestion. They had been discussing the use of the Animus spell and its risks. After a long discussion, the risks of the spell outweighed the benefits. But instead of dropping it, she proposed another way.

The first step of the plan was to put Harry and Ron to sleep and cast the spell on them to see the change in their brain activity. She had the idea after remembering the tests being done on those brains in the Department of Mysteries. Once she recorded the data, she compared it to the result of spells on the rats’ brains and note the similarities.

“Then what’s the problem.”

She closed the book in front of her, “The problem is that we can’t keep the spell active. Neither of you was awake when the spell was active, that’s why the subconscious part of our brain automatically took over and everything went fine as I did the test. But when we’re awake, the conscious part of us will have to manually maintain all our functions like breathing and such... That’s too distracting.”

Ron slumped in his chair and said, “We already knew all that. Maybe Remus is right, we should stop wasting our time with this spell.”

Hermione wanted to snap at Ron for that but chose not to, “No. I was thinking perhaps we could trick our brain into learning how to activate the same sensory circuits that the Animus spell does, but without the side-effects of the spell.”

Harry narrowed his eyes a little and looked at her in contemplation, “And how do we do that?”

“A memory potion.”

All three eyes were trained on her at a moment’s notice, seeing that they were intrigued she explained, “What if we can teach our brain how to activate those circuits at will? There will be no need for us to cast the spell every time, or wait until the side-effects eventually disappear. When we’re under the effects of the memory potion, our retention is improved, anything we learn is retained. What if we can use the spell when we’re under the effects of the potion and trick our brains to learn it artificially? That way, it’s a win-win.”

Remus said nothing to that, Ron rolled his eyes and Harry sighed, “I like the spell. We like it.” He bumped Ron’s arm with his elbow, who sat up straight, and then he continued, “But with every problem we solve, something new comes along and it becomes more and more complicated. I think we’re wasting our time on this.”

Finally, the only support she had on this project, Harry was pulling back and that hurt more than she thought it would.

“We now have a clearer understanding of the spell itself. I’m positive that this will work.” She stated more than she argued.

She watched as Harry looked to Remus for some help and their former defence teacher was just as contemplative as he was but otherwise silent. Harry who had been thinking suddenly lit up and he gestured to her, “The rats.” He spoke.

“Test it on the rats. We know they become aggressive and erratic when the animus spell is put on them –”

“That’s purely due to sensory overload, which triggers them to resort to their most animalistic instincts.” She explained.

Harry nodded, “Okay, okay – I’m saying test the memory potion theory of yours on the rats. If you can trick their brains into learning, then we’ll know if it works. That way we don’t have to guess.”

She stood up from her seat and she paced, “Harry, the potion is supposed to be ingested orally, for us, for our physiology. It’s not the same as casting a spell on the rats. Their brain chemistry is very similar to ours, but most potions will be fatal to them.”

Remus smirked at them all and said, “I might have a solution for you on that.”

“Flesh memory. It’s a charm placed on the Golden Snitch. It’s simple enough and I think that will work on the rats. It’s a good temporary alternative to the memory potion.” Remus’s suggestion made her smile.

“That’s brilliant!” She exclaimed happily, feeling new hope.

Harry clapped his hands and rubbed them together, “There you have it.” He said smirking. Her eyes went to Ron who looked more relieved than happy.

Not letting Ron’s lack of interest sour her mood, she quickly told them, “Review the notes and see if we missed anything. I’ll test the rats. I’ll be back.”

Remus placed the book back on the shelf and told them, “It’s time I left. Tonks will be expecting me at home. I promised to make it back to her every night.”

The grins that comment garnered from the boys made her roll her eyes at them, ‘Boys.’

Remus ignored the two idiots and said with a hint of a smile on his lips, “Let me know if there are any developments.”

“We will,” Harry said in unison with her.

“Whose turn is it to watch the entrance tomorrow?” Remus asked them and Ron laxly raised his hand.

Remus then turned to her, “I have a few things to take care of tomorrow, so don’t expect me. I’ll try to drop by the day after.”

“Okay.”

Before he left Remus turned to Harry, “Pup, keep in mind what I said today. And try to get some sleep. Use a sleeping spell if you have to, don’t be stubborn.”

Harry looked like he wanted to disappear, and that made her both curious about what they were talking about, and smile at the fact that he was at least talking to Remus if not to her or Ron. With that, Remus left with an “I’ll see you all.”

As they said their goodbyes for the night, she told the boys, “Keep reviewing. Harry’s it’s your turn to cook tonight.” He gave her a tired nod.

And she hurried up the stairs to the room on the third floor that housed the 36 rats in separate cages that she was testing on. Most of them were inanimate objects transfigured into rats. She had briefly researched the concept behind Flesh Memory when the Golden Snitch Dumbledore had left for Harry in his will had failed to open. She had tried breaking the enchantment on it without much success. Hence, she knew the spell and its markers.

She pulled out her ‘Comprehensive Guide on Detection Magic’ and started referring it to detection spells that would identify the Flesh Memory spell when active. And so, she began testing it out on the rats individually, noting down the spell’s effect on each rat. If this worked, if the Flesh Memory spell proved that the brain of rats can be trained into activating certain neural circuits permanently, then the Animus spell would become a viable option.

She had her reasons for why she wanted to pursue the Animus spell. The boys were athletic, they had physical strength and speed, while she had to contend with them on skill alone, but even then, it wasn’t fair. Harry particularly had huge magical reserves and strong magic at that, he may never agree with her on that assessment, but it was the truth. He was born with that and it wasn’t a fault, to begin with.

She was worried about their Ministry infiltration plan. She wanted them all to survive this, and she wanted a leg up. She had briefly fought Voldemort when transporting Harry to the safe house, and she knew that they would have been killed if Voldemort hadn’t disengaged and gone after Harry and Hagrid. She and Kingsley could evenly contend with those Death Eaters but Kingsley’s proficiency in martial magic was what saved them. Defensive spells and marital magic weren’t her strongest suit. Neither her, Ron nor Harry would survive this war the way they were now, if they had any hope of contending with Voldemort, they had to improve themselves radically.

‘Knock…knock…knock…’ She turned to see Ron bringing her a bowl of soup. Its smell perfumed the room and it felt delicious, that’s when she realised that nearly an hour had gone by already.

“Harry made ham soup,” Ron said as he handed her the bowl.

“Thank you.” She said as she took it.

As she was putting the notes aside and getting ready to take the soup outside, not wishing to have dinner in a room full of caged rats, that’s when she heard Ron ask behind her, “Can we talk?”

“Sure,”

She found it odd that Ron had to ask, she turned her head slightly and just gave him a nod of assent and he asked, “Are you mad – at us?”

She stilled but replied casually as she resumed packing everything, “What do you mean?”

“We’ve been bickering a lot lately. Harry’s been asking me; he’s worried about us.” Ron’s statement irritated her.

‘Harry’s worried?’ She mused, ‘Aren’t you worried?’ She wanted to ask, ‘You should be worried.’

As soon as she thought of that rebuttal, it dawned on her, it was Ron’s way of saying that he was worried about them but without actually saying it out loud. She wondered why Ron couldn’t be a bit more direct, she was beginning to dislike the games they played.

At her silence, Ron said, “I know we always argue, but I thought –”

She interrupted him as she turned to face him, “What did you think? Tell me.”

Sensing her anger, Ron instantly grew defensive, “I thought we were going to give –” He pointed between them back and forth, “– this a shot?”

“Your idea of ‘giving it a shot’ means nothing but snogging all the time.” She shot back at him crossing her arms in the process.

His brows furrowed at that, “Well I wouldn’t be complaining if we did some of that now and then now would I? The only time we did something even close to anything was before we went to get Harry from his house, and mum interrupted us that time.”

She shot him a scathing look, “How can you even think about that when we’re in the midst of all this?”

“It hasn’t even been a month since the Ministry fell, Death Eaters are circling this house. We’re not safe anywhere, I don’t feel safe anywhere. We’re nowhere near even one of the Horcruxes. How can you prioritise anything else?” She couldn’t understand it. She tried, she desperately tried to understand his view, but she couldn’t. She felt turned off ever since she found out about the 5000 Galleon bounty on her head, the idea of imminent death somehow became real to her.

“You make it sound like that’s all I want. I only meant when we’re alone – that I…we –” Ron looked unsure, not knowing how to explain it to her. She hated that indecisiveness between them.

“Just say it, Ron. We what?”

“Hermione! Ron!” Harry’s voice faintly echoed from the floors below, “Dinner’s getting cold!”

Ron let out a long breath, “Let’s just get back down and have dinner. I’m famished.” The fact that Ron avoided the talk that he began in the first place, peeved her even more so.

Hermione stood in the room while Ron left her alone, she stretched her back and eased her aching joints. She just hoped that everything would turn out fine. She was under no illusion that her budding relationship with Ron was under strain, but it was neither their fault, their collective situation was too tense. They needed a win, this Ministry infiltration had to work. She hoped…

Chapter 7: Infiltration

Chapter Text

September 7^th –

“Where am I in all this?” Remus’s voice echoed through the room as he stared at the hand-drawn map on the table before them.

The echo was followed by a short bout of silence. Ron and Hermione both looked at him in anticipation, clearly wondering if he was going to tell Remus the plan. It was largely his decision and he didn’t mind telling Remus about it, not anymore. He knew Tonks would agree with him and set Remus straight.

So, he told Remus bluntly, “You’ll be our backup. Outside, by the entrance, guarding the ‘Stunned’ people we’ll be disguised as. If something goes wrong, it’s your job to cover our escape.”

Remus’s face with those weathered age lines and new wounds from his most recent transformation turned into a sour expression of confusion mixed with more than an ounce of rage, “Wait – you don’t want me with you?”

“No.” Harry looked away; his eyes drifted back to the hand-drawn map as he said it.

“And why is that?” Remus’s irritation evident in his clipped voice, “Is this because –”

“I need you outside, Remus.”

Remus shot back angrily, “It’s my job to protect you too. All of you. Not just Tonks, I owe it to Prongs – I owe it to Padfoot, I owe it to Lily – and I owe it to the entire Order to protect you. Do you think I’ll let you kids go into this mission alone?”

He thanked that he had started practising his Occulumency. For his part, he was proud of his sudden calmness, “It’s not what you think.”

“Then explain.”

He looked Remus directly in the eye as he told him, “Ron has an alibi. Hermione and I are already wanted criminals. Us, infiltrating the Ministry under disguise is not the same thing as you, going. Even if everything goes smoothly and we make it out undetected, they will find out that they’ve been infiltrated. That’s a fact. If they suspect your presence there, you’re not the only one in danger, Tonks and her family will be in danger as well.”

“That’s a risk I understood when I joined the Order.” Remus’s anger only reverberated, “It’s my choice. You let me worry about it, Harry.”

“No, we’re not taking that risk at all!” He snapped back at the man stubbornly. The last time the Order took a risk for him, Moody had died, he wasn’t going to allow it to happen again.

Remus glared and he glared right back and they both glowered at each other, locked eyes and growing equally agitated every second. The tension in the kitchen mounted tenfold in under a second. Ron shifted in his place, looking visibly uncomfortable. Hermione felt her nerves tightening and her anxiety rising.

Remus took a taller stance and said firmly, “You’re not going if I’m not there to protect you. That’s final.”

His eyes narrowed as he clenched his jaw and replied even more firmly, “You’re free to try and stop me.” His voice remained exceptionally calm that even he was surprised that he had held out this long.

“Is that a threat?”

“Yes, it is!” He felt his composure slipping as his anger surged higher.

“Please, will you two stop it!” They both turned to Hermione who interrupted their staring match, she gulped at their angry gaze that was now collectively directed at her.

She took a calming breath as she continued bravely, “Remus – we don’t have that much mobility outside this house. You know that. The only reason we can even go to the Ministry entrance to watch them is that nobody in the country is expecting us to go there, let alone every day.”

“You’re the one who’s been helping us outside, Remus. You got us the ingredients. You bring us the news. You even helped Kreacher catch Mundungus. You’re more valuable to us if they don’t suspect your presence.” She explained to the grumpy old wolf.

He could tell that Hermione’s explanation did nothing to mollify the former Hogwarts defence teacher.

Remus shook his head, “They’re monitoring everyone in the Order. I’m part of the Order. Chances are that they already suspect that I’m helping you.”

Hermione was quick to point out, “Fair enough, but they don’t suspect you enough, or else they would have done something by now. Bellatrix tried very hard to kill Tonks when we were transporting Harry. If they suspected you, we’d have seen a reaction. The fact that nothing has happened to Tonks or her family in a month is proof enough that they don’t know you’re helping us for sure.”

“Without you, who will get us the things we need if you can’t leave the house freely anymore?” Ron jumped into the conversation in support.

Harry decided not to voice anything. He could sense the man’s anger subsiding and he didn’t want to provoke it back to the surface again. Hermione took the cue and added, “Think about the bigger picture. I know it’s uncomfortable for you, but it will be easier for us to coordinate if it’s just us. Easier to escape as well, if the situation calls for it. If they somehow find out who we are and if they suspect the presence of a fourth person, then we’ll essentially be implicating all members of the Order.”

Remus thought back to himself, Sirius and James in school. The barely adult kids before him reminded him of his group in school. They had joined the Order right out of Hogwarts as well, started doing missions around the same age, and they were just as much a tight-knit group. While he understood their reasons, as a man, he felt the responsibility of looking after the kids. For all his recklessness, Sirius would have never allowed Harry and his friends to do this alone as well. For the first time in so long, he cursed at Dumbledore for shaping the kids into the soldiers they had clearly become.

“I need a drink,” Remus muttered with a heavy sigh.

Harry’s lips tightened at first but then he replied, “There’s a bottle of whiskey on the top shelf.”

“What?” Hermione snapped in surprise.

When he looked away, not wanting to meet Ron’s or Hermione’s eyes, Ron said accusingly, “I knew it! I knew I smelt something.”

Hermione folded her arms and glared at him, “Harry! Where did you get it?”

“Is that important?” He rolled his eyes at them.

“Yes!” She snapped back instantly.

“I don’t believe it!” Ron exhaled looking betrayed, “Why didn’t you tell me, mate? I could’ve used a drink.”

Ron’s statement was quickly followed by a slap to the arm, “Ron!” and immediately they were both on the receiving end of her glare, “You idiots!” She shrieked at them.

“Harry?” She dragged threateningly.

He sighed, “It’s nothing. It was Vernon’s, okay? He used to hide a bottle or two in the house. I found an unopened bottle and I took it on a whim when they were packing.”

This is exactly why he hadn’t told her. It wasn’t that she was against having a drink, just that their current situation required their undivided attention, and this went against that.

Before he could get chewed out, they heard a ‘snap’ followed by someone pouring something behind them. He followed Ron’s and Hermione’s line of sight and he turned around to see Remus pouring a copious amount of the poison into a glass, which he downed in one long swig before pouring himself another one. His eyes widened at Remus’s apparent tolerance for alcohol.

“Glenrothes 79,” Remus exhaled as he examined the bottle, “Smooth!”

Hermione being Hermione, the inner prefect was out growling and she proceeded to the man, angrily confiscating the bottle from Remus and stormed out of the kitchen, they could hear her stamping her foot back upstairs, probably to put the bottle away.

Remus savoured the drink in his hand unlike the first one. The drink made the man talk, “I’m not happy about this. I should be there with you.”

“You probably should,” He agreed but still he argued, “…but I’ll be more confident if you’re covering for us outside. We need someone to support us and bail us out if the situation calls for it. Someone who can stay undetected, so that they don’t suspect anyone but us.”

“Don’t lie. Don’t start now.” Remus groused, “This isn’t about my position or my usefulness. This is about –”

“I can’t face Tonks or your child if something happened to you.” He admitted solemnly, “I’ve lost enough, no more!”

Remus placed the empty glass on the table and rubbed his forehead back and forth a few times, “You’re not willing to risk my life, but you’re willing to risk yours and theirs?” Remus nodded towards Ron, “Where is the sense in that?”

“Dumbledore already included them into the mission. The Ministry now probably knows about Dumbledore’s will and all the things it contains. Ron and Hermione are people of interest, whether they like it or not.” He told the bitter truth of the matter, “But if they want to stop, it’s up to them. I won’t stop them.”

There was a long minute of silence, and finally, Remus let go of the bridge of his nose that he was pinching and then gave an unconfident nod, “Fine.”

“This time – I’ll do it…, but don’t expect me to agree to anything like this ever again. If I’m in this, I’m with you all the way through or not at all. Understood?”

“Understood.”

The tense silence that followed was broken when Ron voiced, “You could have at least shared it with me.” He rolled his eyes at Ron’s sudden obsession with whisky and his attempt at lightening the mood.

“You wouldn’t have lasted a day! She would have wheedled it out of you.” He shrugged back as if that was obvious.

Ron looked annoyed, “No, she wouldn’t have.” He mumbled at him, which made him grin while Remus tiredly shook his head at their antics.

They were interrupted when Hermione walked back into the kitchen, glaring at all of them. Her eyes stopped at him as she said, “We’ll be talking about this.” It was Ron’s turn to grin at his look of misery.

“Fine.” He said trying his best to sound unconcerned.

After a short pause, he placed both his hands on the table and rested his body weight on it as he breathed in.

“Now, let’s go over this again, one more time.” He called all of their attention back to the topic.

“Hermione,” He prompted her to start.

She gave the parchment one fleeting look and said, “I’ll be impersonating Mafalda Hopkirk. She’s 31 years old, married, mother of two. Has been in the Ministry for the past 12 years, most of those years working as an assistant in the Improper Use of Magic Office. She is currently on loan to the Muggle-Born Registration Commission, to serve as Umbridge’s stenographer for the mock trials since the start of this month.” Hermione recited having perfectly memorised every detail, “I’ll be the one closest to Umbridge. I should enter the Ministry through the workers’ entrance and head straight to Level 10, to the courtroom and wait until Umbridge arrives, and get started with the proceedings as planned.”

He blinked twice in deep thought before he turned to her, “If she has the locket on her person, you’ll alert us via the coin and we’ll come to you. One pulse for Hermione. Two pulses for you Ron. Three pulses for me. And four pulses for Remus. We all must know where each of us is inside.”

“Got it,” Ron said firmly.

“Yes,” Hermione replied.

“Ron, your turn.”

Ron gave a nod and thought back as he reviewed, “My name is Spencer Gamp. I’ll be impersonating a Death Eater; I work in the DMLE. I’ll be 36 years old and joined the DMLE just last month. I’m supposed to be a bit eccentric, due to spell damage suffered to the head as a child, so I reckon no one will notice anything odd if I’m acting a bit off. My job is to stand guard at DMLE’s doorway. I know the way to my post. I’ll head straight to Level 2 and wait there and notify you.”

“Ron, the Death Eater you’ll be impersonating is hired as an enforcer, nothing more. Also keep in mind that you are one of the recent escapees from Azkaban and everyone fears you, so don’t talk too much. If something’s up in the DMLE, you’ll know immediately, and if you notice it, you alert us. If you alert us, we can’t come to you, so try to find us or head to the exit, and we will do the same.” He explained to Ron, who nodded.

“Understood,” Ron said confidently.

Remus who was listening carefully until then added, “I knew Gamp, he was in Slytherin, a year behind me during Hogwarts, imagine him as an uglier older twin of your classmate Goyle.”

“That’s comforting.” Ron looked a bit more reassured.

As everyone turned to him, he started, “I’ll be Albert Runcorn. Not an anointed Death Eater, but fully supports Thicknesse and you-know-who. Hitwizard. 24 years of service in the Ministry. Considered cold and ruthless. 42 years of age, divorced, no children. I’ll have the most mobility among us. My job is to check Umbridge’s office on level 1, if the locket’s there, I’ll get it. And then I’ll signal you and we will know if the mission is a success. If the locket isn’t there, I’ll check for clues and head to the records room on level 3, I’ll have the invisibility cloak with me, and I’ll try to find Umbridge’s current address.” He pointed at level three on the map.

Hermione who was silently listening to the summary spoke, “If we’ve gotten the locket and if we’re in a position to quietly escape without raising red flags, we signal each other and we do it as soon as possible, individually if necessary, and we’ll meet back here. If we’re in a position that we cannot leave without giving ourselves away, we wait till lunch and we slip out along with the leaving crowd.”

“Now that we’ve covered the basics. Let’s go into contingencies.” Hermione started pacing, “In the case of an emergency, we have two escape routes. The Atrium and the Car Park Exit. The Atrium is the first choice, we should avoid the car park exit if we absolutely can, it’s a long and narrow route and there’s a high chance they would trap us from both ends. If all else fails, then we summon Kreacher for help and Apparate us out and not until then. If we make it out via the Atrium and are unable to Apparate, or if we’re still being pursued, then it's Remus’s job to cover our escape.” She finished firmly.

Remus looked unsatisfied with his role in the plan, but still reassured them, “I’ll be ready.”

Ron looked at her and asked, “We’ll have potions, right?”

Hermione stopped pacing for a moment and turned, “Yes, I almost forgot. We’ll each be carrying three vials. One vial of Polyjuice, one with Wit-Sharpening Potion and one dose of Calming Draught. The vials are expanded, so there will be more potion in them than what you can see, so be careful. Consume it in moderation, and don’t try to drink the potions in quick succession.”

After a few short minutes of silence, he asked, “Are we missing anything?”

There were no objections and no suggestions, so he nodded, “Very well then. We’ll wrap it up here. We have a long day tomorrow, so let’s get a good night’s sleep.”

They all agreed unanimously. They said their goodbyes, and Remus left through the Floo with, “I’ll meet you at the entrance tomorrow. I know where you’ll be.” And with that, they all went to bed with worrying thoughts circling in their minds.

Next Morning –

He had barely slept last night, too much anticipation for the day to come. Nevertheless, he had never felt more prepared than he was now. He had used everything he could think of to train himself this past month, even his Occulumency was a bit better these days.

They had their breakfast and Hermione had already given them all the items they needed for the day. He watched the Marauder’s Map as he waited for Hermione to come down with Ron as they packed all the things. Since Snape was now sitting as the Headmaster of Hogwarts, he didn’t want to imagine what the first week of school was like for his friends. His eyes moved to Neville and Luna walking together. He saw Ginny’s name moving towards the Charms classroom with three other names beside her. Seamus was alone in the dorm room, he couldn’t see Dean anywhere in the castle, and he assumed the worst.

“You look terrible,” Ron’s first greeting of the day as he descended the stairs.

“Thanks, mate.” He replied with unhidden sarcasm as he subtly hid the map. It made Ron smirk but did nothing to ease Hermione’s mood, she still wore that manic expression on her face.

“You okay there, Hermione?” He asked teasingly in an attempt to offer some levity.

She looked distracted, but nodded, “I’m just checking if we have everything.”

“You double checked everything already,” Ron said with a sigh.

“It’s always better to make sure…” She said as she went back to check the list in her mind.

They made their way onto the front step of the house with immense caution. They could see a couple of puffy-eyed Death Eaters watching the house from across the misty square. They hadn’t used Voldemort’s name in quite a while and the number of Death Eaters monitoring the house had dwindled.

Hermione apparated him first to the alleyway and then went back for Ron. Standing in the tiny alleyway that Ministry workers apparated to every morning before they headed off to work, he pointed his wand at the fire door near the two large bins and noticed that the padlock on the door was missing. He nonverbally opened it and slipped into the darkness behind the door, into the empty theatre, hiding in the shadow.

“You’re on time.” He heard a familiar voice behind him.

Clenching on his wand, he turned to see Remus walking out of the shadowy passageway that led backstage, “Remus.” He breathed, “How long have you been here?”

Remus checked his watch, “Almost an hour.”

Moments later, Hermione and Ron arrived outside under the Invisibility cloak and she started calling him in a whispering tone, “Harry?”

“Here…” He called and he opened the door.

They hurried inside and Hermione looked startled but sighed, “You’re here, Remus.” Ron looked way more relieved than before.

Soon they were all waiting for the Ministry workers to arrive, “She ought to be here in about five minutes.”

And as they predicted, the wispy looking witch named Hopkirk arrived exactly on time. Hermione stunned her on her arrival and he and Ron caught the woman as she fell and then dragged her backstage, while Remus kept watching the door. Ron searched the woman and found the ID, the wand, and the special gold tokens that had the words M.O.M etched on them.

“Here…” Ron plucked a single strand of hair and handed it carefully to Hermione.

Hermione pulled out her flask and carefully slid the strand of hair into it. The Polyjuice turned into a pleasant heliotrope colour, after shaking it thoroughly, Hermione drank a copious dose of it. In moments, Hermione transformed into the wispy looking witch that they had stunned. She immediately pulled out her wand and gave a wave overhead and her clothes were transfigured to fit her shorter figure. Ron handed her Hopkirk’s pair of glasses and she wore them on her nose.

Before they could say anything, they heard a noise, startled they turned to see Remus dragging a large man’s body in his arms. Ron ran to the fire door that was ajar and he hurriedly shut it close. Hermione recovered from her shock first, “It’s Runcorn.”

Remus left the unconscious man next to Hopkirk and went back to Ron by the entrance, while he and Hermione got to work. He checked the large, menacing man and he emptied all the items, the suitcase, the ID, the pocket watch that oddly did not tell time, those special tokens and the hair they needed for the Polyjuice. Unlike Hermione’s victim, his vial of Polyjuice turned a near shade of black when Runcorn’s hair was added to it.

As soon as the potion touched his lips, he felt the change fall upon him. It stung for a second, but pretty soon he felt different, at first glance he felt physically stronger. The man was easily a solid three inches taller than him, taller than Ron, Bill, and Remus and he even suspected him to be taller than Sirius for that matter. Runcorn was physically just built different, the last time he had felt this physically athletic was at the start of his fourth year, around the tournament. It told him just how much he had let himself go over the years, despite the Quidditch training.

“Transverto.” He muttered as he gave a wave over his head and visualised Runcorn’s clothes. His clothes transformed to mimic Runcorn’s attire and fit his new body perfectly.

Ten minutes went by quickly, “We have him,” Ron said as he dragged his target, while Remus stood guard by the door.

Gamp was a tall yet portly man, balding, with beady eyes, a hooked nose and crooked teeth. Remus was right, the man was an uglier version of Goyle. He quickly got to work and searched the man and got the ID, the tokens and some personal items to fill Ron’s look. Ron’s vial of Polyjuice turned black just like his when the hair was added, which turned him into Gamp.

Remus approached them frowning but said nothing. Hermione handed them each a Galleon with Protean Charm like the ones they used to use during the DA meetings, “They’re charmed. Remus, keep them Stunned and out of sight until we make it out. And this is your coin.” Remus took the Galleon without a word and pocketed it.

“You’re running late,” Remus said and they all gulped, finally feeling that nervous anxiety bubbling.

He volunteered, “I’ll go first. Let’s not leave together. It’ll be suspicious.” Ron nodded and he gave a nod back as he went to the door, while stashing the folded invisibility cloak and his enchanted specs.

He pulled out a small phial of blue potion and took a sip of it. He immediately felt a strange calm wash over him; the draught was helping immensely. Taking a deep breath, he stepped out of their hiding place and started walking.

M.O.M –

Not used to the added height and weight, he clumsily emerged out of the green flames into the Ministry of Magic. They had to flush themselves down using one of those gold tokens that allowed entry into the toilet stall.

The Atrium seemed darker than he remembered it. He instantly took note of the gigantic statue of black stone that had replaced the golden fountain at the centre of the Atrium. It seemed rather frightening at first glance, the sculpture was of a witch and a wizard sitting on ornately carved thrones, looking down at the Ministry workers toppling out of the fireplaces. Engraved in foot-high letters at the base of the statue were the words, ‘MAGIC IS MIGHT’.

Walking forward, he blended into the sea of people clad in darker robes, he noticed people giving him a wide berth. All the details they had were right about Runcorn, people feared him. Feeling reassured that they wouldn’t bother him, he kept walking.

“Psst!” He heard a voice, and he looked around to see a wispy little witch, it took him a moment to realise that it was Hermione who standing behind the statue, and the slightly bald man next to her was Ron, who started to stiffly walk away from her as he approached them. He strode over to her as confidently as possible.

“You got in all right, then?” Hermione whispered to Harry.

“I did.” He said shortly.

“It’s horrible, isn’t it?” She said to Harry, who was staring up at the statue, “Have you seen what they’re sitting on?”

He had just noticed it, so he gave a nod. The ornately carved throne was actually mounds of carved humans. Hundreds upon hundreds of naked bodies, of men, women, and children, all with rather ugly faces, twisted and pressed together to support the weight of the handsomely robed wizarding couple.

“Muggles,” Hermione whispered beside him, “In their rightful place.”

His eyes narrowed as he said with a bit of controlled venom, “When did they start fancying themselves as gods?”

“They’ve always thought of themselves that way.” She said to him in a whisper.

They joined behind a stream of witches and wizards heading past the large golden gates towards the elevators, “I assume Spencer’s gone to Level 2?” He asked briefly, using the name of Ron’s alias.

“Yes.” She gave him a nod.

It was one of those things they had discussed. Ron was supposed to head straight to his post as a guard standing at the entrance of the DMLE. They needed a lookout before they could pursue anything. Once he’s in place, Ron would signal them and they would know that the mission is a go.

“Don’t worry. His wit’s sharp and he’s calm.” He coded the potions that Ron was keen on using and they were fairly confident that he would be safe and on his toes. Using the potions Sirius had brewed was something Ron had suggested and it was a brilliant suggestion.

No less than five minutes later, they felt it. The charmed Galleon pulsed twice. Two pulses meant Ron, and the initial signal indicated that he was in his post. The mission was a ‘go’. He sensed Hermione’s eyes drifting to him, he gave her an imperceptible nod as she said, “I’ll signal when I’m in place.”

“I’ll see you on Level 10.” He murmured shortly.

“Albert.” She said with a nod and stiffly entered the elevator that sunk in and disappeared down the shaft.

Separating from each other wasn’t initially part of their plan, but Remus had insisted on it. Three random people of different ages with no prior history couldn’t hope to stick together on the enemy territory without being noticed. They needed to take the right steps to conceal themselves as much as possible and to do the unpredictable. Three of them separating could cover a lot more ground and be more efficient. The element of surprise was the only thing they had. Remus had learned from the best Aurors in the Order and Tonks was the master of disguise due to her ability as a Metamorph, and infiltration was her area of expertise, so Remus got tips from Tonks and had coached them on basic infiltration tactics.

Another elevator took its place and as the golden grilles opened, he entered and a few others behind him entered with him. He stood tall and stern, frightening a few of them, one of them was even shivering slightly. He paid them no mind, willing himself to remain undistracted.

The elevator progressed to Level 1, making several stops where people left and joined. It was on Level 3; he felt the Galleon pulsing just once. One pulse meant Hermione, like Ron, she was signalling them that she was in place as planned. Thankfully, no one talked to him all the way up to level one.

The first shock came to him when the golden grilles opened and he stepped out, only to stand before three people. Two wizards clad in black flanking a long-haired wizard with a beard streaked with silver, wearing magnificent robes of black and gold stood before him. The man before him was the new Minister of Magic. Hard to miss, considering the picture of the man being on the papers nearly every day since the fall of the Ministry.

“Ah, Runcorn.” The Minister looked surprised.

“Minister,” He gave a bow of his head in greeting.

“What brings you up here?” Thicknesse asked him.

“Needed a quick word with,” Harry hesitated for a fraction of a second, “Arthur Weasley. Someone said he was up on level one.”

“Ah,” Pius Thickness said, “Has he been caught having contact with an Undesirable?”

The way the Minister phrased it made him wonder how many more were branded as Undesirables.

“No,” His throat went dry, “No, nothing like that.”

“Ah, well. It’s only a matter of time.” Thicknesse said with much certainty, “If you ask me, the blood traitors are as bad as the Mudbloods. Good day, Runcorn.”

“Good day, Minister.” The man entered the elevator as he exited it, the two tall men beside the Minister entered the elevator and they disappeared as the golden grilles clang shut.

As soon as they were out of sight, he tugged on the invisibility cloak and with a wave of his wand under his sleeve, the cloak was draped over him and he was hidden. Runcorn’s figure was so tall, that he had to stoop a little to hide his feet.

Level one was a large space, he turned right and started walking down the corridors, carefully avoiding people while noting the names on the large wooden doors with names etched in gold. It felt like it went forever until he turned a corner.

Halfway along the next corridor, he emerged into a wide-open space where a dozen witches and wizards sat in rows at small desks not unlike school desks, though much more highly polished and free from graffiti. Harry paused to watch them, for the effect was quite mesmerizing. They were all waving and twiddling their wands in unison, and squares of coloured paper were flying in every direction like little pink kites. After a few seconds, he realized that there was a rhythm to the proceedings, that the papers all formed the same pattern. After a few more seconds he realized that what he was watching was the creation of pamphlets, that the paper squares were pages, which, when assembled, folded, and magicked into place, fell into neat stacks beside each witch or wizard.

Harry crept closer, although the workers were so intent on what they were doing that he doubted they would notice a carpet-muffled footstep, and he slid a completed pamphlet from the pile beside a young witch. He examined it beneath the Invisibility Cloak.

MUDBLOODS

and the Dangers They Pose to

a Peaceful Pure-Blood Society

It only took him seconds to guess the author of the pamphlet. That’s when the young witch beside him confirmed his suspicion as she said, still waving and twirling her wand, “Will the old hag be interrogating Mudbloods all day, does anyone know?”

“Careful,” The wizard beside her whispered, glancing around nervously; one of his pages slipped and fell to the floor.

“What, has she got magic ears as well as an eye, now?” The witch glanced toward the shining mahogany door facing the space full of pamphlet-makers.

He followed the witch’s gaze to the door, and rage crept upon him in an instant. Instead of a peephole, a large, round eye with a bright blue iris had been magically attached into the wood – an eye that was shockingly familiar to anybody who had known Alastor Mad-Eye Moody.

He went still instantly when the door opened and the woman, he so despised stepped out with a little clipboard in her hand. It was his Seeker instincts that saved him as he swayed out of the way and avoided bumping into Umbridge.

She was thankfully wearing burgundy robes with a brown bow, not pink, which was still horrible to look at. He had thought that she was already down in the courtrooms busy with the muggle-born mock trials, he checked his watch and it was ten minutes past nine o’clock, she must just be leaving.

Umbridge inspected around the room of employees and smiled in that sickly sweet exterior that fooled no one, “Tut-tut, keep up the good work.”

Every single employee looked down almost simultaneously and failed to meet Umbridge’s gaze, it reminded him of their DADA class in the fifth year. He manoeuvred around her, skirting close to the wall to get behind Umbridge and he used the opportunity, “Confundus.” He muttered and watched as the spell landed on her side while he kept an eye on the pamphlet makers. Too afraid of Umbridge, no one even dared to look up, hence thankfully no one noticed his spell.

Umbridge seemed confused, almost giving the impression as if she had forgotten something, he used the window of opportunity to slip in through the door that was ajar. As soon as he was inside, he pointed his wand through the gap and whispered, “Finite.”

The expression of confusion fell away and Umbridge shook her head, closing the door as she left scribbling on her clipboard. He waited behind the door and carefully listened as the footsteps grew faint as they receded into the shuffling of papers.

Pulling off his cloak, he turned around only to be hit by a wave of uncomfortably nauseating nostalgia. Umbridge’s office was the same as the one in Hogwarts, where he had spent too many hours serving detention. The walls were pink, they bore the same ornamental plates, each featuring highly coloured, ribboned kittens, gambolling and frisking with a sickening cuteness. Even under the Polyjuice, the scar on the back of his hand itched at the memory.

He inspected the telescopic metal attachment on the door, on which Mad-Eye’s eye was mounted so that it can be used to blatantly spy on the employees outside. It was no wonder why Umbridge’s subordinates were so apprehensive of her, and it made more sense why they had loathed throwing a birthday party for her. Who would want to celebrate anything with that toad?

Securing the door with a locking spell, he turned again, pointing his wand at the room as a whole, “Muffliato.” His spell encased the entire room like a bubble.

“Revelio!”

Every drawer on the desk flew open, and one of the plates on the wall which had the picture of a kitten on it opened, revealing an old wall safe behind it. Weighing his options, he dug into his coat and pulled out the phial of Wit-Sharpening potion. Unscrewing the cork, he downed the white liquid that tasted like tar. In less than twenty seconds, he felt it, the potion took effect.

He scanned the hinges of the safe, they looked awfully like a door’s hinges. The safe was very old, the construction made that clear. If the locket was behind it, he would have to open it. But before that, he pointed his wand and muttered with closed eyes, “Finite Incantatem.”

He felt his magic struggling against the enchanted safeguards on the safe. He channelled more and more of his magic through his wand and felt the enchantments struggle against his attack. After what felt like at least a few minutes, he felt his magic hooking onto something intangible and with a slight grin, he forcibly wrenched his hand. Like pulling on an inflated rubber balloon, he felt the enchantments on the safe dissolve away with his magic in an instant as though it were a mirror that shattered into pieces and the shards evaporated away.

“Alohom*ora.” With the enchantments gone, the safe opened effortlessly.

His eyes fell in disappointment as he saw no locket inside, just papers and files. He almost locked the safe, but paused at the last second, pulling out his money bag, he said, “Gemino.” The spell Hermione had taught him worked very well, it duplicated all the papers and the files in an instant. Securing the original documents and files in his money bag, he placed the duplicate back in the safe and bolted the safe, putting it back the way it was.

His job didn’t end there, quickly browsing through the open drawers, he found something. The locket remained missing; however, he did find a file on the bottommost shelf of the filing cabinet behind the desk, it was labelled Arthur Weasley. Curious, he opened the file only to come across Mr Weasley’s name and picture, along with a report. Along the same shelf, he found files on Percy, Tonks, Kingsley, Bill, Podmore, and Hestia Jones, most of them were former Ministry employees and all of them were part of the Order.

“Gemino.” He muttered again as he slid his wand on the files.

Pocketing all the originals in his money bag, he replaced them with the duplicates on the cabinet. With that, he stood up with his wand up in the air, “Reparo.”

He watched as the entire office that he had just tossed go back to the way it originally was before, every piece, every shard, every speck of dust returning to its original form. He also felt a little pride in his progress with spell-casting, he had been wanting to do that since he witnessed Dumbledore do it last year.

Checking his watch, he headed back to the door. He paused as he saw the contraption that held the eye, pulling the metal contraption that was clipped firmly on the peephole, he took Mad-Eye’s eye from the stand and pocketed it before placing the now empty contraption back on the door.

“Silencio… Horoma…” The illusion and silencing spell fell on the door so that no one outside would notice it when he opened the door. Pulling on the invisibility cloak over himself, he opened the door and scanned outside. The employees remained busy as they worked diligently. He waited a moment to see if there were any reactions, none came, so he carefully stepped out. Closing the door as he slipped away.

Stepping on the elevator, he pushed the button for Level 3. He pulled out his phial and took another subtle sip of his Polyjuice and waited with the short young woman who was standing before him in the elevator, who seemed determined not to look at him. He was thankful for that and not for the first time today, he was thankful that Remus knew who Runcorn was and had suggested that he impersonate him.

As the elevator stopped, he stepped out. Unlike Level 1, Level 3 was bustling with people left and right, much like the Atrium below. It was both a boon and bane, he could easily slip into the crowd, but cannot use the invisibility cloak as he did above, so he had his wand at the ready right under his sleeves.

Just as he was about to walk forward, he felt it. In his pocket was the Galleon which pulsed. He had felt the vibration distinctly. It pulsed just once. He waited for a second one or more, but nothing came. It was Hermione, she was signalling them. Why? He didn’t know. But he didn’t wait to ponder about it. He promptly turned back to the elevators and took the nearest one among many other occupants. As important as it was to find Umbridge’s address, it was more important not to break their plan, so he hurried.

As he entered, while most of them looked away, he felt the eyes of one of them, an imposing-looking man, black hair, a scar on his jaw, clad in clear rich robes, the man gave him a short nod of respect, “Albert.”

He gave a nod back but said nothing as he went and stood next to him. If they were on a first-name basis, the chance of him slipping up was high, so he decided not to risk it. He raised his Occulumency barriers high enough to not be surprised in case of an attack, but not enough to make the man suspicious. As he pushed the button for Level 10, the one who had greeted him asked, “I heard you were working on Landrum.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, he didn’t know what Runcorn was working on, so he gave another nod, “I am.”

“Heard you were about to make a break.” The man who was still unnamed but certainly close to Runcorn asked.

Without the details, he went with the safest answer. “Not yet.” He said shortly. At that, the stranger shifted a little, his answer must have been odd, so he steadied his breath.

The awkwardness prevailed, but the stranger did not press any further. The elevator chimed at Level 8 and opened to the Atrium, the unnamed acquaintance of Runcorn exited with a swift, “I’ll see you, Albert.”

He just gave another nod as he replied, “I’ll see you.” Seeing the man who was still a stranger to him disappear into the crowd.

The grilles closed and the elevator sunk again moving past the Department of Mysteries to the courtrooms at level 10.

By the time the elevator stopped at Level 10, he was the only one left. As soon as he stepped out on the torch-lit passageway, he felt it, that distinct feeling of coldness that he would never forget. Dementors. He pulled his cloak over himself and hid under it as he proceeded down the flight of stairs on the left.

He felt the chill creep up on his bones as he descended. At the landing, he turned right and saw a demoralizing sight. Muggleborns were huddled quietly, alone, or in groups, some of them with families and between every few people were Dementors with their shrouds and bony hands floating in the air. The Muggleborns were covering their mouths or keeping their heads down, to avoid being ‘Kissed’. He remembered his mother dying to that flash of green light which continued to Cedric falling on the grass to that same flash of green light, followed by Sirius falling into the Veil, Mad-Eye falling from his broom. He clenched his fists tightly to stop the shivering. He thought about Hermione and Ron, he had to do this for them, and he willed himself to move.

Hyper focused on the large door at the end of the hallway, he moved forward. The Dementors’ heads turned as he passed them by, invisible to them but they could still sense his presence, the presence of the human who was the least affected by them. It was a long corridor and he witnessed several muggleborns across the hallway.

Harry stood close to the door and he tried to listen, he could hear faint conversations inside. A few minutes later, the door abruptly swung open and a wailing voice echoed out into the hallway, “P-please, I-I swear. I-I-I’m a w-witch! I-I didn’t s-steal! P-please…”

“Take her away.” He recognised Umbridge’s voice, magically magnified so that it sounded clearly over the woman’s desperate screams.

The woman was trembling, half-conscious and wailing. A dementor had grabbed the poor woman’s arm by the elbow and was dragging her out. The monstrous dark creature glided away dragging that poor woman across the smooth tiles down the corridor and disappeared out of sight.

“Next – Carl Hopkins,” Umbridge called out and a short man stood up and walked to the door, nervous as hell, panic clear on his face. He followed behind the man before the door closed.

The courtroom was different from the one he was interrogated two years ago. This one was much smaller, though the ceiling was quite as high; it gave the claustrophobic sense of being stuck at the bottom of a deep well.

There were more dementors inside the room, gliding near the high ceiling. Umbridge sat at the spot where Fudge had sat during his trial, on her side a little behind her was Hermione, disguised and white-faced and desperately trying to keep herself in check as she scratched her quill on her notepad. A bright, silvery blue, long-haired cat laid next to Umbridge, its tail playfully wagging back and forth. A Patronus that he assumed was Umbridge’s, to protect herself from the effects of the dementors in the room.

The man sat on the chair at the centre of the circle and was put in the spotlight. He was bound by black chains as he took a seat. The trial began immediately and he tuned it out because he had no intention of letting the man be sentenced. He almost pulled off the cloak and ‘Stunned’ her, but saner heads prevailed. He used the man’s pleas to mask his footsteps as he climbed up the steps and skirted around the elevated platform towards Hermione.

Coming up behind Hermione, trusting in the Calming Draught, he whispered, “I’m behind you.” Hermione jumped violently, which caught the attention of the witness, whose gaze Umbridge followed towards her.

Umbridge rose her eyebrows and kept the look for a moment expecting a response, but Hermione said nothing, just glanced warily at the nearby Dementor gliding above them. Umbridge looked annoyed before she went back to questioning the man.

Hermione kept a close eye on Umbridge, but whispered turning away secretively, “Harry?”

“You called.” He whispered back.

“You scared me!” She whispered.

“Sorry.”

Hermione whispered furiously, “The locket. Umbridge’s wearing it.”

“What?” He whispered in shock.

“She’s wearing it. It’s on her neck.” She whispered back to him just as hurriedly.

His eyes widened as he glanced to the side and saw Umbridge, he concentrated on her neck until he saw a glint of gold. He couldn’t see it properly, so he asked, “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” She replied and he trusted in her confidence.

He turned back to Hermione and asked, “We Stun her and get it.”

“Don’t…” She whispered back covering her mouth with the notepad in her hand, “If you Stun her, the Patronus disappears and the Dementors will swoop in.”

“Not a problem. I’ll cast the Patronus, you Stun her.” He said to her.

“Wait, what then?” She whispered looking forward.

“What do you mean what?” He asked slightly confused, “We leave after we get the locket.”

“What about the Muggleborns outside?” She asked him, her voice growing faint.

He remained silent for a moment. He hadn’t thought about that. They had a duty to rescue the Muggleborns, they couldn’t leave them here and send a message to all the Muggleborns out there.

“We’ll rescue them. And escort them out of here. We’ll say that it is Umbridge’s order.” He offered to her.

“Okay,” Hermione agreed gladly.

“On three.”

She readied her wand as he whispered, “Three.”

He gripped his wand tighter and just waited, “Two.”

“One.”

“Stupefy!”

“Expecto Patronum!”

It happened so fast. The spell landed on the side of Umbridge’s face, the toad-like woman slumped face-first into the balustrade. The bluish-silver cat lying next to her disappeared, but a huge silver Stag appeared, prancing around the room in the air, tackling every dementor in sight with its giant horns. The Dementors screeched eerily as they retreated to the top of the room.

By the time he turned, Hermione was pointing her wand at the locket in her hand, “Gemino.” An exact duplicate of the locket appeared and she levitated it back around Umbridge’s neck.

She turned to him with a shaky smile, “It’s done.”

He ran down to the edge of the railing and he jumped over into the trial room floor, “Relashio.” The spell released the binds on the man in the seat and disappeared into the arms of the chair, the man was both wide-eyed and looked stuttering in shock.

He grabbed the man by his arm and lifted him to his feet, “W-w-what’s h-happening?”

“Shut up and follow us.” He said to the man.

Hermione came down the stairs keeping an eye on his Patronus that was still enthusiastically running in circles around the courtroom, high up in the air and ramming every single Dementor that was in its way.

As she came next to him, he said, “We have to swarm all the Dementors outside and turn them back into the courtroom and lock them in here before we leave. Summon your Patronus, Hermione.”

“First, I’ll signal Ron. If we’re leaving, he has to know.” She said as she took the Galleon and pulsed it again, he felt the Galleon reverberate in his pocket.

Hermione pulled out her wand and said, “Expec – Expecto Patronum.” Nothing happened.

He saw her hand shivering and he pointed his wand and his Stag descended next to them. The warmth from the glowing Stag did it, Hermione’s shivering stopped, “Expecto Patronum!” A silver otter burst from the end of Hermione’s wand and swam gracefully through the air to join the stag.

“Let’s go,” he said and with a wave of his hand the doors flew open.

The Patronuses glided out of the doors in unison. There were cries of shock from the people waiting outside. He looked around: the dementors were falling back on both sides of them, melding into the darkness, scattering before the silver creatures. His Stag went to the exit and stood guard, while Hermione’s Otter herded every single Dementor, pushing them back towards him. He stepped out of the way with his wand at the ready. In mere moments, all the Dementors were pushed into the courtroom and he gave a wave and the door slammed shut.

When he turned, he saw a bunch of wide-eyed Muggleborns looking at them both in a mixture of awe and relief.

“It’s been decided that you should all go home and go into hiding with your families,” Harry told the waiting Muggle-borns, who were dazzled by the light of the Patronuses and still cowering slightly. “Go abroad if you can. Just get well away from the Ministry. That’s the –” He stopped abruptly.

His Black ring was vibrating on his finger, ‘Danger’.

Hermione noticed his gaze on his ring and instantly clued in on the situation, “Harry, are we…?” He just turned to her and blinked.

“No matter,” Hermione shook her head and then asked the crowd of around sixty Muggleborns, “How many of you have elves at home?”

Two hands rose and she gave a nod, “Good. Call them here.” She ordered.

Regaining his composure, he asked her, “Elves?”

“Call Kreacher too. We can’t evacuate them all with just two elves.”

He weighed it for an instant. Hermione’s logic was sound. Evacuating them all via the Atrium was much riskier than this. Elves could evacuate them all in secret. He was broken out of his thought as she addressed all the Muggleborns, “When you all leave. I want you to spread the message to every Muggleborn and Half-blood that you know that the Ministry’s been overthrown. You-know-who and his Death Eaters have taken over and it’s not safe for any of you. Do not submit your wands. Escape the country if you can. Go into hiding if you can’t.”

Some murmurs broke out of the crowd but were broken when there were two pops of noise. All eyes fell on him, Dobby and Kreacher. Dobby looked surprised at his disguise, but Kreacher did not even flinch but bowed, “Master.”

“Dobby, Kreacher, I have a job for both of you.” He went on one knee to the elves’ height and he continued, “I want you to evacuate all of them to safety.”

His words were followed by two more pops of sound and there were two more elves there. The people in the crowd who had summoned the elves were doing the same thing.

He smiled approvingly and he turned back to Dobby and Kreacher, “How many can you evacuate at a time without straining yourself?” He asked.

Dobby looked wary at the crowd but answered proudly, “Four at a time, sir.”

“Three, sir.” Kreacher answered, looking a little miffed.

“Get started. Get them all to safety away from the Ministry.” He told them and the elves got to work. Within minutes about ten or twelve of them disappeared.

Hermione pulled him aside and asked, “Is the ring warning you?”

“Yes,” He whispered, “It’s also grown stronger in the last few minutes.”

She frowned deeper in concern as she muttered, “What’s taking Ron so long?”

Dobby disappeared with a group of four and was the first one to return and took another set of four people and disappeared from the crowd, while everyone looked eager to escape. The process was slower than they thought it would be. Dispelling the Patronuses, they both went to the entrance of the stairway that led to the courtroom.

Minutes went by until they heard the elevator chiming and footsteps. He pulled the invisibility cloak and draped it over himself and Hermione and they wordlessly stood waiting with their wand poised to attack. It wasn’t until the balding man came down the stairs did, they realise it was Ron.

Pulling off the cloak, she called, “Ron.”

Ron breathed in relief, “Thank Merlin.”

Ron hugged Hermione but separated quickly and told him in a hurry, “Harry, they know you were in Umbridge’s office. Something about a hole in the door. I volunteered to inform Umbridge of the news and came here instead, or else they would be coming here. They’re locking down the Ministry. Call Kreacher, we have to escape.”

Harry held his head and tried to think of a way, Ron just repeated in panic, “What are you waiting for? Call, Kreacher.”

“We can’t, Ron,” Hermione answered.

“What?” Ron breathed in confusion.

“Muggleborns, many of them were on trial. We have to rescue them. The elves are helping them escape.” She explained briefly as she pointed to the slowly thinning crowd behind them.

Ron scoffed, “Them escape? We have to go now!”

“I know that, Ron!” She snapped back.

He looked back at the crowd, there were still many of them, waiting for their turn to leave. He couldn’t rush the elves to take more, it only meant one thing.

“Let’s leave now.” Grabbing Ron and Hermione, he pulled them back up the stairs as he explained, “We’ll leave through the Atrium before they can lock everything down. The Muggleborns will evacuate here while we leave.”

He heard no arguments. Hermione placed two barriers on the entrance of the staircase to give more time for the Muggleborns to evacuate, in case someone came here after they left. Before long they were in the elevator ascending to Level 8, they all took another spike of Polyjuice and waited before taking the Calming Draught. They stepped out among so many who were rushing past the golden gates that led to the Floo area. The Atrium was full of people moving from fireplace to fireplace, sealing them off.

“Harry, we need to hurry!” Hermione whispered.

They picked up their pace towards the closest fireplace, “Stop!” Runcorn’s voice thundered out of him and the two men sealing the fireplace froze.

He could see the confusion among the wizards who were looking at each other, “Sir, we were told to seal –”

“I have an urgent matter to attend to! I’ll be leaving.” He replied sneeringly.

“But – we were told not to let anyone leave.” One of the wizards clad in black told them.

“This cannot wait.” He replied gruffly.

Another one nearby took the cue and said, “We were told to make no exceptions.”

“By whom?” He mustered his best authoritative tone.

Another voice came from behind them, “By the Minister.” He turned to see Yaxley approaching him. He felt Ron’s and Hermione’s panic skyrocketing in their features, and he was afraid that Yaxley would notice it. Hermione was very subtle as she hid behind Ron’s disguised form. Ron straightened himself in his spot.

“What’s this about, Runcorn?” Yaxley asked calmly.

“The Landrum case, sir.” He replied smoothly.

Yaxley seemed confused, “I thought we already had him in custody.”

He didn’t know that; he had just played a hunch. He could feel the cover unravelling quickly, he had no choice but to play along. He didn’t know that he could lie that convincingly until he did it, “We do. But there’s a matter of another witness we may have missed. Any delay and we might miss the witness.”

Yaxley’s eyes drifted from him to Ron and then back to him, the man then shook his head, “Well that isn’t important now. We have an intruder, that takes top priority. You can leave after we find the intruder and have this matter resolved.”

Yaxley’s voice left no room for argument. He cursed his luck. Whatever happened, he wasn’t staying here. If they had to fight their way out, then that is what they were going to do.

“Very well,” He pretended to acquiesce as Yaxley turned to walk.

Before the wizards could resume sealing the fireplace, his wand slipped out of his sleeve and into his hand. “Eructo,” He whispered the first part, “GLACIA!” He yelled the second.

Slamming the tip of the wand into the ground, he felt the magic discharge. Huge spikes of ice erupted in a dome-like arc around them, expanding outwards larger and larger. Ron and Hermione were quick on their feet. “Stupefy!” Hermione stunned the two wizards sealing the fireplace back-to-back, while Ron cast a Knockback hex that pushed the rest of the wizards nearby behind the expanding ice, leaving some trapped in between the spikes.

Within ten seconds, the spikes were so large that they were completely obscured from sight. Hermione didn’t allow him to stand and see the effects, she screamed, “Let’s go!”

She went first and disappeared through the fireplace in green flames, Ron went next and then he went last. Just as he stepped into the fireplace, he could hear shouts and screams, a bell ringing, “Intruder!” He didn’t wait to listen, he disappeared in the green flames.

Shooting up into the cubicle, he flung open the stall door only to see Ron aiming his wand at him. Hermione grabbed his arm and pulled him aside as Ron’s “Expulso” sailed past him and destroyed the toilet. He assumed that it was to prevent others from following them.

“Give us a warning next time!” Hermione yelled at him. He found it ironic that she was saying what he was supposed to.

There was a noise in a cubicle at the very end of the line, they turned to see a wizard in black emerging out of a stall door. A yellow spell sailed past him in an instant. He fired back with a bone-breaking hex, which the man evaded. There was another noise, which was followed by another wizard appearing behind the first one. Spells started flying in the air.

“Let’s go!” He yelled as Ron ran to them.

Hermione’s Jelly-Legs Jinx caught the first one as he fell face-first into the ground, while the stinging hex he had aimed at the first one missed due to the fall, but didn’t go to waste as it landed on the one behind. The second wizard yelped as he fell backwards holding his face. Meanwhile, Hermione grabbed his arm and Ron’s for Apparition, but before she could, the first wizard in a dire attempt to stop them, rugby tackled him on the stomach.

The last thing he felt was the pain from the tackle mingling with that hooking sensation in his gut as his hand slipped out of Hermione’s grasp. He saw Ron’s and Hermione’s expressions of shock frozen on their face as his vision blurred and he Disapparated.

The all too familiar scream of his mother’s voice echoed in his ears, “Harrryy…!”

Chapter 8: Aftermath

Chapter Text

Unknown Location –

He couldn’t breathe. The pressure on his neck was overwhelming and the back of his head was throbbing in pain. When his eyes finally focused, the hard sneering face with cold blue eyes above him came into his perception. It took him a moment to realise that it was the same man who had pursued them into the workers’ entrance via one of the open fireplaces.

It took him a moment longer to understand that the man was seated above him, choking him with both hands on his neck. “NNGG!” His throat made a strained noise as he tried to take a breath, which broke him out of his daze.

On instinct he swung his right arm with all his strength, landing his fist straight into the man’s jaw, ‘WHAM!’ Runcorn had immense physicality, the wizard not having expected such strength, staggered back and slipped sideways as he fell, letting go of the grip on his neck.

“ZHAAAHH!” He breathed hard, as he rolled over gasping for more air while he struggled to get on his knees.

One arm rooted on the ground, his other hand nursing on his neck as he gasped and gasped for more and more air. His eyes scanned their surroundings, he wondered where he was forcibly Apparated to by the stranger. He knew that he didn’t apparate with Hermione and Ron. There was an old-fashioned house in the distance surrounded by trees.

Before he could ponder on it more someone jumped on his back with a battle cry, “AHH!”

Harry felt the elbow wrap around his neck from behind, in another attempt to choke him. He needed his wand. He raised his free hand, his palm facing outward as he gritted, “ACC-IO!”

He had no idea where his wand had come from or how or when it had fallen out of his grasp, but it shot into his hand and he caught it. But before he could turn his wand on the man who was latched on behind him, a hand came and caught his wrist, preventing him from using it. He felt the nails dig into his wrist. He couldn’t shake the grip despite Runcorn’s immense strength, the grip felt almost immovable.

“Yargh!” He yelped out loud in pain.

“I expected a better fight, Runcorn!” He heard a gruff voice from gritted jaw echo behind him.

He tried to turn the wand in his fingers, to angle it at the man’s face behind his head, but the grip on his wrist only grew tighter. Realising that he would be dead without air long before he could turn the wand, he did the only thing he could do.

If they could get here, then it was a safe bet to say that they could get out. He pictured a place in his mind and he allowed his magic to flow towards it. He felt his magic hook under his belly button and felt the pressure pull him inwards. In a moment, they were gone.

Privet Drive –

Being stretched through a tube was not a pleasant experience, especially with very little air in the lungs to breathe, mingled with the pain that was blooming all over his body. The backyard of the wretched childhood house was the only place he could immediately think of at the moment.

They landed without any elegance. He fell back into the solid pavement, with the man still attached behind him. In an instant, the Death Eater was compressed between the pavement below and his weight above. He heard the wizard behind him groan in pain and he felt the grip on his neck loosen and he wrenched the elbow off of him as he rolled over into the unkempt grass and caught his breath.

He didn’t wait, he searched for his wand; it was no longer in his hand; he had felt it fly out of his grip when he landed. His eyes scanned until he found it lodged into the grass a little away from him, he hurriedly crawled to it. He needed the wand to stun this man, whoever he was, he needed to get back home safely. Getting on his shaky legs, he reached for the wand and snatched it. Only to fall forward and land his chin on the grass. Discombobulated as he was, he still felt the hand wrapped on his leg that had tripped him.

The Death Eater was persistent, it became obvious to him then that the man was still under Hermione’s Jelly-Legs Jinx. The man was quick to tackle him down again and try to wrench the wand from his grip. Turning around, he pushed at the man’s neck and tried to distance himself.

It quickly devolved into a struggle for survival. They rolled back and forth, each trying to get an upper hand over the other and try to wrench the wand for themselves. Neither willing to give up as they wrestled for their lives. Suddenly, the man used the distance he was trying to put between them and trapped his arm and grabbed into his shoulder bone. He felt the fingers dig in between his shoulder bone and winced in pain and his grip on the wand faltered, the man used the momentary slip to grab the wand around his fingers and turned his hand on himself and gritted, “Crucio!”

Like a million volts of electricity, he felt an immense current pass through his body, which turned into dozens of hot needles digging into every single one of his nerves. Involuntarily, he shrieked in utter pain, “ARGHHH!!!” His bones rattled, his muscles clenched and unclenched, and pain overwhelmed him. When it ended, the man easily wrenched the wand out of his grasp and he was powerless to stop him.

The Death Eaters’ relieved yet disgruntled face was the only thing he could see.

He thought about mum, about Hermione and Ron, about Remus and Tonks and his future godchild. He thought about the Cruciatus that Voldemort had put him through in that graveyard years ago. The part of his mind that was screaming at him egged him on, Voldemort’s Cruciatus had hurt far more than this one had. Having survived Voldemort’s Cruciatus once, giving up on this felt like an insult to his ego. He couldn’t give up. Not now. Not after all this effort, he had put up until this point. He had a promise to keep.

He had to act before he passed out. Using whatever scrap of energy, he had left, he willed himself to put Runcorn’s physical strength to good use. In a sudden move, he grabbed the man’s hand and deflected the tip of the wand from his face.

His eyes caught the look of shock on the Death Eater’s face, especially when he Disapparated in the blink of an eye with no real destination set in mind.

Platform 9¾ –

The platform was empty, there was no train waiting for them on the tracks. They flew in heavy; the floor came in hard. They landed on the hard stone pavement. They were instantly flung apart as they both rolled separately. Even though he was disoriented and in pain, he was already moving. He had expected the pain, it didn’t distract him.

This time, he was fully ready to fight for his life. With the adrenaline pumping and his heart rate skyrocketing, he rolled and used the momentum to pull himself up unbalanced. The pocket watch he had taken from Runcorn this morning, he took it out of his pocket and in a circling twist of his hand, he rolled the chain around his fist and clenched the watch tight. Before the man could even get up, he was running up to him and swinging.

‘THUD!’

His first punch landed right on the stranger’s face, who went sprawling to the floor. Before he knew it, he was on top of the stranger, punching harder and harder at the skull.

‘THUD!’

‘THUD!’

‘THUD!’

‘THUD!’

On the fourth hit, he yelped as a sharp pain shot through his fingers, “Yeh-argh!” He instantly knew that one of his fingers was broken from the punch.

Ignoring the pain, he used his uninjured hand to grab his wand from the stranger’s hand and wrenched it off. The wand came off easy and he quickly placed it on the side of the Death Eater’s nose with a spell ready on his lips. He expected to see the look of fear on the Death Eater’s face, but he only saw emptiness.

That’s when he grasped that the man hadn’t fought back. Had he gotten the upper hand? With the adrenaline pumping and his head pounding in rhythm with his heartbeat which he could feel inside his ears, he couldn’t exactly tell what was going on. But no spells were fired.

Moments passed and he froze up when he became too aware of what was happening. Behind the man’s head was a pool of blood slowly expanding in all directions. Dark, thick and red. He staggered back and fell on his arse, crawling backwards as he stared in horror at what he had done. What had he done? He didn’t exactly know that either.

“No…” He muttered subconsciously as he pondered, ‘No…no…no…no…’

It took him a full two minutes to comprehend what was happening. But as the adrenaline in his blood was starting to subside, the effects of the Cruciatus overwhelmed him. His body crashed despite what his mind was screaming, he quivered uncontrollably and he felt his arms twitching involuntarily.

He felt pain everywhere, even at places where he knew that he wasn’t injured. As much as he tried to remain conscious, darkness started overwhelming him. The last thing he saw was the world spinning to a stop at the blue sky above as his eyelids grew heavy and his vision blurred.

Quidditch World Cup Field –

She washed away the blood on her hands and cleansed her face with lukewarm water. Her Polyjuice was fading away, she felt a sting and saw her image being restored in the mirror. She pressed her back against the door of the tent’s bathroom and waited for her body to stop shaking.

Things had gone so wrong in an instant. Harry was wrestled down and Disapparated away by a Death Eater. Her panic at the moment of her Apparition had landed her and Ron not on the top step of the Grimmauld Place, but outside the Fidelius protection. The Death Eater outside the house had been quick, the wizard had cursed Ron and had entered the Fidelius while she had tried to pull Ron to safety while battling under a flurry of spells. In her panic, she had once again Disapparated away with Ron, but the Death Eater had already seen the door, now she had to assume that Grimmauld Place was no longer a haven.

While she managed to heal Ron and make him comfortable as he slept, Harry was still missing. Her mind wandered to scenarios of Harry escaping and going to Grimmauld Place only to be ambushed there. It regressed to thoughts of Harry being defeated, captured and taken to Voldemort. It regressed to even worse cases where he was killed and his body paraded by the Ministry. She didn’t know why she was thinking such thoughts, but she couldn’t help it. Her disturbing thoughts did nothing to help her calm down or to stop her shivering.

Opening the door, she went to her bed and changed her clothes to a fresh set of clothes and felt clean. And then she strode to the door flap of the tent and exited. She paced on the grass outside. Minutes went by as she tried to think of a plan, any plan, but all plans were limited because she couldn’t leave Ron here unsupervised for long. And she didn’t have the facts or any information to even make a solid plan. Calling for Kreacher or Dobby did not help.

“Kreacher.” She tried calling the elf again, but there was no response.

It was then a blue shimmering light appeared through the wards outside, morphing into the form of a wolf, one much bigger than Tonks’s Patronus. It was Remus’s Patronus, she was certain of it. The wolf prowled around her and stood still before opening its mouth and Remus’s voice echoed, “What happened inside? Did you get the locket? The Ministry is in an uproar. Some of the Muggleborns you had the elves rescue have been dropped inside the McKinnon compound by Kreacher. I’ll help them get out of the country. Are any of you injured or hurt? Send me a message asap.”

The message was repeated a few times before the Patronus disappeared. She immediately pulled out her wand and muttered, “Expecto Patronum.” The silver-blue Otter swam out elegantly and she recorded her message, “Harry was separated. Harry is missing. Ron is injured. Grimmauld Place is compromised. Ask Kreacher to find Harry. Hurry!” She watched her Otter fly away, morphing into a small ball of light.

It took ten full minutes before the wolf Patronus reappeared before her, “Where are you? I sent the Patronus to Harry, I thought he was with you. I can’t find Kreacher. Kreacher’s not responding to my call. How’s Ron? Is he alright? How did you separate from Harry? Is he still inside the Ministry?”

She sent another Patronus instantly, “Ron’s fine, I’ve sedated him for now, he’ll recover. A Death Eater grabbed Harry and Disapparated with him when we were escaping. You have to find Kreacher. Only Kreacher can find Harry now. We have to find Harry.”

Remus’s Patronus reply came not long after, “Andromeda cannot summon Kreacher either. The Muggleborns can stay in the compound for a while. I’m going to find Harry. I will let you know when I find him.”

Hermione collapsed into the grass and cried at that. She couldn’t imagine a scenario of Harry’s absence. The quivering was back, she kept imagining Harry’s death, but not quite as awful as before. She knew that she needed to calm herself down, but couldn’t. As she kept trying to think, she had an idea. In a moment, she was pulling herself up and hurrying back into the tent. She found the vial of Calming Draught in the clothes she had discarded in a hurry. She gulped down a big dose of it and felt the calm wash over her. Her shivering stopped in an instant and she felt her focus heightening.

In her calm, she mused about all the tracking spells she knew of and anything she could use. And she began thinking of various ways to use the spells. Finding Harry was the top priority, but she didn’t know where to begin. Her eyes fell on Ron’s form resting on the bed and that’s when it clicked. She did have a way of tracking Harry.

She conjured a Patronus once again, “Remus. Use Finite Incantatem on the Galleon we gave you. I need the enchantments on it to be inactive. Do it now!” Her Otter swam through the air and disappeared out of the tent, while she picked Ron’s Galleon and muttered, “Finite Incantatem!” She felt the enchantments on the Galleon disappear. Right now, the only Galleons that were linked were hers and Harry’s. She hoped that Harry still had his Galleon on him.

Hermione then took her own Galleon and waited for Remus’s confirmation. She had a spell that she could use to reverse-track using her Galleon with the other paired Galleon to Harry. It was not designed for that purpose, but the Charm could be retrofitted for that purpose. All she needed was the magical connection to be able to Apparate to him. She had never done that sort of Apparition before but she was fairly confident that she could pull it off and was willing to try.

The wolf Patronus flew into the tent and spoke, “It’s done. The Galleon is now inactive. Can you track, Harry?”

She took the confirmation and ignored the question. Within moments, she was going through a complicated wand movement before her wand came to rest on the Galleon, “Sec-ta-ris!”

Waiting in anticipation, just as Remus’s Patronus disappeared, she nearly jumped in joy when the spell turned the Galleon glowing green. It worked. Magic was flowing through the two paired Galleons, creating a bridged connection. In a hurry, she was packing her potions pouch and any potions that she might need in case he was injured. She placed a ‘Disillusionment’ charm on herself, just in case Harry was captured and she was Apparating into enemy territory.

Taking the Galleon in hand, she gave one long look at Ron before she closed her eyes and apparated, focusing on the magic in the Galleon. In a swirl of distorting space, she was gone.

Platform 9¾ –

Hermione didn’t expect to land in King’s Cross, inside an empty platform of all places. Without the train in the station, the platform seemed eerie, too eerie. Almost as if the entire world was empty and she was the only one left. She immediately looked around, there were no threats to her life.

Undoing the ‘Disillusionment’, she scanned until she saw him, them, Harry’s face was unmistakable and there was another man on the ground next to him, who she assumed to be the Death Eater that had separated them. Both of them were on the ground unmoving, she didn’t know when the tears sprang but before she knew it, she was running to him, hoping that he was still alive. Her steps slowed when she grew closer to them.

She froze in her steps when the realisation struck her, the Death Eater’s eyes were wide open and lifeless, skin as pale as white, a pool of blood drying behind the man’s head while a small stream of blood led down the pavement and into the train tracks. Her breathing grew harder in horror until she noticed Harry’s chest slowly rising and falling. He was still breathing. Pushing aside her sensation of horror, she rushed to his side on her knees and started tending to him.

His neck was all red and there were engraved marks almost as if someone had tried to choke him to death, which made her both furious and drove her to tears. On his right hand, there was a slight cut on his wrist, but his fingers were mangled. One of his fingers was visibly twisted and the chain wrapped around his hand had scratched the skin on his knuckles. And there was also a scratch on the back of his head and many minor scraps all over him.

She started with his neck, “Ferula.” The spell instantly bandaged his neck and she fished out a little phial of undiluted Murtlap Essence and poured drops of it around the bandages till it was fully soaked. It would help heal the abrasions on his neck. She used the essence to also heal the deep scratch on the back of his head and the minor abrasions on his arms.

Checking his right hand, she healed the wound on his wrist first before she carefully removed the chain wrapped around his fist and the pocket watch from his palm. She healed the scratched skin on his knuckles before she made note of the swelling. She was wrong about the initial assessment, two of his fingers were broken, and one was visibly twisted, but there was a small swelling in another one of his fingers, if she were to guess, she would assume it was a hairline fracture.

Pointing her wand, she cast a spell, “Transcpicio.” The spell confirmed her assumption, one of his fingers was broken completely, the other one was a hairline fracture.

“Episkey!” She watched in slight fascination as his fingers mended in an instant and the swelling disappeared, although not completely. It was her first time using it and she was glad that it had worked.

“Ferula,” she added in for good effort as small bandages wrapped themselves around each of his fingers.

“Owww…” He slowly groaned from his throat while stirring awake.

“Harry! Harry!” She immediately called to him.

His eyes fluttered open and he asked gruffly, “Her – mione?”

“Yes, it’s me. I’m here! I’m here!” She wiped away her tears and smiled for the first time all day.

He looked like he had a hard time breathing, he was heaving out ragged breaths, “I – can’t see.”

“You’re not wearing your glasses.” She said as she hurriedly checked his pockets and found him his specs.

His specs were broken, the glasses were cracked, and she quickly muttered, “Oculus Reparo.” And the specs returned to normal. She slid it on his nose and watched him blink twice as his vision adjusted.

“Thank you,” He breathed as he tried to sit up.

It took him a while to say it, but he did as he was nursing his neck, “You – found me.”

She didn’t answer him, instead, she crushed him in one of her bear hugs. He reluctantly wrapped his arms around her back, but then she felt him freeze midway. When she pulled back, she noticed that he wasn’t looking at her. She followed his frozen gaze to the dead stranger lying not five feet away. She could hear her own heart beating in her chest.

“Is he…?”

“Don’t!” She cut him off and moved her body and blocked his line of sight, “Don’t do that, Harry. I-it was y-you or him.”

Hermione saw that he was trying not to look her in the eye, “I-I don’t even know w-what I did…” He struggled.

“It doesn’t matter.” She began but he interrupted her.

“I-I just wanted to – s-stun him,”

“Harry, it doesn’t matter!” She snapped at him until he looked at her in shock.

She saw the accusation in his eyes, “It was survival. Y-you did what you had to do.”

“I didn’t do it. You have to believe me. I-I didn’t do anything.”

She was once again crying, he was making her cry as he tried to explain himself, she shook her head, “I-it doesn’t matter. Call Kreacher.”

“I didn’t do it,” He muttered to her.

Harry just looked away and started staring off into space, “Harry! Call Kreacher!”

Harry gazed back at her, but she could tell that he was clearly out of it, “Call Kreacher.” She said softly nodding.

She could see that he was having a hard focusing at the moment, “Harry, can you call Kreacher?” She asked him even softer than before.

“Kreacher.” He called finally in a whisper as he started staring off into space.

Momentarily, there was a pop and the elf arrived, “Yes, Master.”

She had so many questions for the elf, but right now, she needed Kreacher’s help to clean this place up before they left. She turned to the elf, “Kreacher, can you help us clean?”

The elf nodded and she looked back at the dead body of the man. Kreacher followed her gaze and understood her, “Does mudblood want Kreacher to…?” She half-expected Harry to snap at Kreacher for calling her a mudblood, but he didn’t. It was an indication of how unfocused he was at the moment.

“Yes, Kreacher.” She nodded, “Empty his pockets and all belongings and vanish the body.”

Vanishment sent the object into a state of non-being. The object would cease to exist. While she was very skilled at Vanishment, she knew that she didn’t have it in her to vanish a dead body. The spell would have her visualise things she didn’t want to visualize and memorize details that she didn’t want to memorize. She didn’t even look, as she heard Kreacher do the deed.

Meanwhile, she checked Harry’s pocket and found his phial of Calming Draught and she pulled open the stopper and placed it on his lips, “Harry, drink this.”

It took him a moment, but he slowly grabbed the phial and downed it in surplus. She waited and watched as the clarity fall upon him. The spaced off look on his face disappeared and suddenly he became hyper-aware of his surrounding once again. He stared back at her calmly for a long moment, “Thank you.” He said to her earnestly but sadly.

Hermione just nodded back and helped him up to his feet. As soon as he stood up, he asked, “Kreacher, what happened to him?” She wanted to protest but didn’t.

The elf who was vanishing the blood on the pavement turned around and replied, “Splinched, master. At the back of the neck.”

“Splinched? It can do that?” He asked her looking confused, “I never thought it could…”

She gave an obvious nod, “I-in some extreme cases, it can cause a fatal wound.”

Hermione couldn’t help but feel relieved at least a little, it had been an accident. Harry hadn’t used any fatal spells to intentionally take a life. If this hadn’t happened, it could have been him who had died instead of this unknown Death Eater, whose name still remained a mystery. And she had no intention of finding out.

“Harry, look at me,” She squeezed his hand, “It – it was an accident.”

He looked guilty at first, then she saw his features morph into somewhat of an impassive look as he gave a slow nod. It was his way of saying that he didn’t want to talk about it.

Taking the pressure off of him, she turned to the elf, “Kreacher – did he…have a Dark Mark?”

The elf shook his head with a short, “No…”

She sighed in relief. The man wasn’t a Death Eater, which was good news and bad news. The good news was that it explained why the man hadn’t just called for you-know-who. The bad news was that he was most likely a Ministry worker supporting Voldemort’s reign.

“Where’s Ron?” He muttered, breaking her out of her thoughts.

When she bit her lip nervously at the mention of Ron’s name, he noticed her hesitation instantly and his eyes grew sharper as he asked in concern, “Is he alright?”

“Yes…, he’s fine.” She nodded back at him, “But he was cursed.”

“Cursed?!” He turned around for a moment and then said in a hurry, “Let’s go home then.”

“About that,” She hesitated, she didn’t know how to tell him that Grimmauld Place was no longer safe.

“What?”

“Harry, I don’t think we’ll be able to go back there.”

“What do you –?”

“After you disappeared, we Disapparated ourselves a moment later. We were in shock; we barely had any time to comprehend what was going on. When we arrived at Grimmauld Place, we didn’t land on the top step. I was distracted, and we landed outside. Ron stumbled as we landed and he ended up scraping his knee. The Death Eater outside the house didn’t wait to check who we were, he just started firing spells as soon as he saw us. Ron was caught unaware with a nasty curse.” At Harry’s horrified look, she reassured him, “He’s fine now. He’s safe. But, the Death Eater outside rushed over before I could pull Ron inside the Fidelius. He caught on to Ron just as I was pulling him into the Fidelius. I think he saw the door, I panicked, I used a Revulsion Jinx on him to get him off of Ron and I Disapparated with Ron again and escaped.”

“Hang on… You don’t mean Death Eaters are at Grimmauld Place?”

Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears as she nodded, “Harry, I think they are. I—I forced him to let go with a Revulsion Jinx – but I’d already taken him inside the Fidelius Charm’s protection. Since Dumbledore died, we’re Secret-Keepers, so I’ve given him the secret.”

She watched helplessly as Harry tried to process the news. Blow after blow of bad news, it wasn’t fair. She could almost see that he was thinking a lot of things at once, “Harry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

He shook his head firmly, “Don’t be stupid, it wasn’t your fault! If anything, it was mine…”

Before she could even ask, Harry put his hand in his inner jacket pocket and drew out Mad-Eye’s eye. She recoiled at that, looking horrified at the eye.

“Umbridge had this stuck to her office door, to spy on people. I couldn’t leave it there…but that’s how they knew there were intruders inside. If I hadn’t taken it, then we could have evacuated safely. If anything, it’s my fault.” Neither spoke afterwards, they just stood there each of them holding the blame on themselves.

Just as she was beginning to think of the next plan, he asked her, “Are you alright?” He didn’t notice her look of confusion as he rubbed his hand on her arms as though he was checking for wounds, “You’re not injured as well, are you?”

She gave him a tired half-smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “No, Harry, I’m fine.”

“Good,” he said.

She watched as he turned to Kreacher, “Kreacher, the Muggleborns, did you take them all to safety?”

“Yes, master.”

“Was anyone left behind in the Ministry?” He asked and she listened curiously.

Kreacher shook his head, “No, sir. Kreacher followed master’s order.”

‘The house-elf’s highest law is his Master’s bidding.’ She remembered Kreacher’s words. It made sense why Kreacher hadn’t responded to any of her calls, Kreacher was busy following Harry’s orders to the letter. She would have to ask Harry to give her permission to call Kreacher in case of an emergency, they couldn’t afford to be separated like this again, and there was no guarantee that they would be as lucky the next time around. She filed that away in her head.

Harry nodded tiredly, “Thank you, Kreacher.”

“Hermione,” He called her attention, “How certain are you that Grimmauld is compromised?”

She sighed silently, “Fairly certain.” She replied hesitantly, feeling awful that she was dashing that last bit of hope in his tone.

There were a few moments of silence as Harry’s eyes grew calculative, “Kreacher, I need you to apparate back into the house unnoticed, just once. I want you to find Sirius’s trunk under my bed and bring it to me.”

She interrupted him, “Don’t. I have the trunk. I stored it in my purse this morning before we left.”

“You do?” He asked in surprise and when she nodded, he looked relieved.

“Thank Merlin.” He sighed in relief, “You’re a lifesaver, Hermione.”

When she gave him a half-hearted smile, he nodded and told the elf, “Don’t bother, Kreacher. Forget about Grimmauld Place and go live with Tonks’s mum Andromeda for a while and obey her.”

“Yes, Master.” The elf bowed and disappeared with a pop.

“Where is Ron?” He asked her softly, “I mean, where are we staying?”

“In the woods where they held the Quidditch World Cup. In a tent. It’s under protection wards.” She told him.

Hermione noticed his look of disappointment, but she couldn’t tell if it was due to the tent, or if it was due to the loss of Grimmauld Place, she suspected the latter. She had a feeling that Harry had grown to like that dusty unseasonable place, especially after making his peace with Kreacher and the tapestry was repaired.

“Let’s go…” He spoke in a resigned tone.

“Not yet.” She said to him and started packing all the belongings of the fallen Death Eater.

She watched him grimace at the nature of her task, “We don’t have any food in the tent.” She said to him as she finished, “Everything is back at the house. We also need toiletries. I didn’t pack those when we left because I assumed we were going back to the house.”

“Do you have the money bag?” She asked and he checked inside his coat pocket and then gave her a nod.

“We need to buy a few things before we go back to the tent.” She told him and he agreed without a word, “Can we go under the cloak?”

“Sure…” He pulled the invisibility cloak from his back.

They checked the barrier that led out of the platform, but it was inactive. It seemed obvious that they only opened the gateway to the platform on certain days, otherwise, it was kept closed. Possibly to avoid cases of some random muggle stumbling into the platform by accident. In any case, they apparated out of the empty platform.

Cromer Street –

Apparating outside King’s Cross, they hid under the cloak and slowly moved in tandem towards a grocery. The grocer gave them a nasty look as they stocked quite a lot of food so that it would last them for the coming weeks. Her severely dishevelled look and Harry’s dirty form and bandaged neck did not help one bit. But when they paid in full, the old woman’s look did temper down a bit.

After that, they decided that she would shop and he would stay guard. She shopped for toiletries and once they had all the necessary items like toothpaste, soap, shampoo, conditioner and more, then they went to the local supermarket and stocked up on meat. While she was not much of a carnivore, the boys preferred the meat, especially Ron. Bacon, chicken, fish, beef and a whole lot of it too. As she was bagging it all up, she listened in on two policemen talking among themselves as they left the shop.

“Blimey, I thought I was the only one who noticed.”

“Others ought to have seen it too, I reckon.” The other man replied, “It’s been rainin’ a bit too much and it’s colder too at nights. Unnaturally so – as though I can never be happy when the cold comes.”

The voices disappeared as the glass door of the shop swung close. The two policemen may not know what they were talking about, but she knew perfectly well what it meant. Dementors. She connected the dots quickly. Dementors were roaming around the city at night, that seemed to be the only logical conclusion. Another piece of valuable information she filed in her head. Situational awareness was necessary.

As soon as she stepped out, Harry swiftly wrapped his cloak around her. At first glance, he looked spooked. Before she could even inquire him, he whispered hurriedly, “We need to leave.”

“I thought you wanted to see if we could buy some fuel for the bike?” It took her just a second to realise that something was wrong, “What’s going on?” She asked now sensing the stiff alertness in his posture.

“Him,” Harry pointed to a street musician standing by the street with a violin, “Ever since we got here, he’s been snooping. I saw him pass us by once outside the grocers, twice outside the department store, and then once here. We were under the cloak, so I don’t think he’s noticed us yet.”

She didn’t believe in coincidences and she trusted in Harry’s instincts. He had been right about Malfoy last year; his quick action had saved Ron’s life when he was poisoned. He had a sharp nose for danger. And if Harry thought that man was a Death Eater in disguise, then she was sure that there was some truth to it. Besides, the shabby-looking man did look vaguely familiar.

“Harry,” She called his attention from the man who he was watching intently through the cloak, “We’ll slowly walk towards Euston Road, and if he follows us then we’ll know if he is a wizard or not.”

“Can’t we just leave?” He asked looking surprised.

“No,” She shook her head at that, “If you’re right, if that man is a wizard and he’s following us, then he must have some magical means of tracking us. We didn’t break the taboo. We need to find out how that man’s tracking us.”

She saw the realization dawn on him, “As they tracked you when you went out the first time.” He whispered more to himself.

Hermione nodded, “Exactly…and – if we know what they’re using to find us, then we can find a way to protect ourselves from it.”

“Good point.” He agreed as he readied his wand in his hand, “We’ll lead him away from here.”

He grabbed her hand and soon enough they were walking under the cloak heading towards Whidborne street, past the pub, carefully avoiding muggles engaged in boisterous conversations. The sun was beginning to set. And just as they had predicted, the man followed behind them, although he looked visibly unsure as he followed them, which did not surprise her as they were under an invisibility cloak.

“We have to ambush him,” Harry whispered to her as they walked.

She agreed, they couldn’t afford to let the man follow them into a place without muggles, then they would be inviting a possible duel. She saw a secluded alleyway that they could hide in just as they turned and she pushed him towards it, “Here.”

They waited and waited for the man to pass them by, but he didn’t come by. Had they misjudged the situation? Just as she was about to look, Harry pulled her back and shushed her, “Shhh…”

“Don’t – move…” Harry whispered to her very lightly, “The ring is warning me. He is here…” He crouched down to the floor and slid his wand in his left hand outside the cloak and extended it around the corner and muttered, “Stupefy.”

Her eyes widened in shock. She witnessed a sudden flash as though a camera had flashed and then the street musician fell face-first past the wall and into their purview. The man had a wand clutched in his hand. Pulling off the cloak, she immediately pointed her wand and muttered, “Mora…” placing an illusion around them in case some muggle stumbled upon them by accident.

Harry pulled the stunned Snatcher’s form into the alleyway as she secured their position, “Repello Muggletum.”

The man was middle-aged and balding, had stained yellow teeth, and was wearing a broken pair of glasses, he was wearing clothes that looked worn out and dusty. And had a slight stench of alcohol on his person. The man reminded them of Mundungus. The man also didn’t have the Dark Mark on either of his wrists, so they naturally assumed him as a Snatcher. The only thing the Snatcher had was a small bag of sickles on him.

Harry gave her the Snatcher’s wand and she inspected it, “Glamour…” She muttered before showing him, the wand that turned into a violin bow.

“Disguised to fit into the Muggle world. He’s a watcher. Most likely looking for Muggleborns who disappeared into the mundane world after the coup.” She summarised the purpose of the Snatcher’s presence in their location.

Harry grunted as he frisked the man’s body, “I don’t think he was expecting us. Otherwise, he would have called for help or something.”

She agreed with him, “Harry if that’s the case, we have to expect Snatchers like him all over the country in every city. No place is safe for us.”

“We had to assume that anyway.” Harry muttered as he continued searching, “We still don’t know how he was tracking us.”

The moment Harry took off the broken specs from the Snatcher’s nose, the specs jumped out of his hand and fell on the floor dancing, it morphed into an old-fashioned monocle.

He turned to her and she gave him a nod as she said, “Looks like it’s enchanted. Take it. We’ll find out what it is later.” Harry quickly pocketed it.

“Anything else on him?” She asked and he shook his head at that.

“He has nothing else besides some sickles, the wand and the monocle. I don’t think he’s here to catch muggleborns.” He said slowly, “I think he is here just to find them and report them to the Ministry, or to call others.”

“Whatever the case, we can ponder on that later. Right now, we have to make this look differently. Show me the monocle.”

Harry showed her the glass and she muttered, “Gemino.” Slightly breaking the glass on the copy, she left it in the Snatcher’s eye. She then conjured a broken glass bottle, one that looked exactly like his bottle of whisky and left it beside the Snatcher, making it seem as though the man had drunk too much and had passed out.

“Obliviate,” Harry muttered as he pointed his wand at the Snatcher, wiping his most recent memories.

At her questioning look, he mouthed to her inaudibly, “Precaution.”

Leaving the man slumped against the wall, they left. They had just enough things for the next few weeks and she was sure that they could stretch it if they rationed properly. Feeling confident, she Apparated them back to the tent.

Quidditch World Cup Field –

The tent was not elegant but not too scruffy, however, it was a step down from the safety and comfort of Grimmauld Place. When they had stayed at the house, she hadn’t felt too safe there with Death Eaters prowling outside the house. She had been afraid that Snape would break Moody’s tongue-tying curse and reveal the location of the house to Voldemort. But now, even without that threat, inside the tent, without those thick walls to shelter them, she felt even more exposed than before.

Harry was sitting next to Ron’s bed. Ron’s entire face was swollen beyond imagination, his eyes had been bleeding when she had brought him here, but now the bleeding had stopped, but he was constantly in tears even while asleep.

As soon as she went next to him, Harry asked without turning, “Is it the Conjunctivitis Curse?”

“No,” She sighed as she pulled a chair next to him, “I assumed it was at first, but this is something else, something darker. Conjunctivitis does not bloat the entire face, just the eyes. And it’s not the Stinging Hex either. The counterspells aren’t working.”

“What can we do to help him?” He asked her sounding tired.

She decided to be honest, “At this point, not much. I don’t think it’s wise to try and guess the curse and try some spells and make it worse in the process. We have to let it run its course, let the curse wear off, and allow his magic to heal him naturally. We can use potions to help quicken the healing.”

Harry didn’t reply, he just kept staring at Ron’s sleeping form and started staring off into space, deep in his own thoughts. The calming draught had worn off, she could tell from the way he held himself. After a few minutes of silence between them, she interrupted his absent presence.

Handing him a towel that she conjured, she instructed, “Go take a shower. You need some rest. Your injuries won’t heal properly if you don’t rest. Go.” He nodded without much resistance and stood up sluggishly, proceeding towards the bathroom.

She didn’t know what to do. How was she supposed to help him? She no longer had the Black library at her disposal either. Harry had killed someone by accident. He always had a way of blaming himself for things that weren’t his fault, but now, he would undoubtedly carry this guilt around forever. And frankly, she didn’t know what to think about it, her feelings on the matter were just as scattered. She wished the man wasn’t dead, but she also didn’t wish for Harry to be in the man’s place. What was she supposed to do? Not for the last time today, she was growing increasingly aware of just how much she had underestimated this war. This was not what she had expected when she had left her home this summer having modified her parents’ memories. She hated the indecision in her mind.

In order to distract herself, she conjured, “Expecto Patronum…” Nothing happened, she pictured a happy memory through the depressing thoughts and tried again. This time she succeeded as her silver Otter swam through the air.

“I found him! He’s safe and sound with us.” She recorded her message and sent it off to Remus.

Ten minutes later, just as Harry was out of the shower and getting dressed in a fresh set of clothes, Remus’s Patronus appeared in the tent, “Glad to hear that you three are alright. I don’t have much time, have to keep moving. Things are chaos at the Ministry. Umbridge was Kissed by Dementors. Yaxley’s been seriously injured. Travers’s son is missing. I’ve erased the minds of Hopkirk, Runcorn and Gamp. Tried to make it seem as if they were under Imperius, but it doesn’t look like it worked, especially with Grimmauld being compromised. I’m also hearing rumblings of many employees fleeing the Ministry. Muggleborns everywhere are also moving, your message has reached them. Stay hidden somewhere for a while, keep moving if you can. Death Eaters and Snatchers are scouring through the country. Be careful.”

Her mind went back to the Ministry, they had locked up all the Dementors in the courtroom along with an unconscious Umbridge. They hadn’t thought it through. Umbridge was Kissed, and it was their fault. But she didn’t feel guilty, not for that detestable excuse of a woman who had sentenced so many Muggleborns to be Kissed or imprisoned in Azkaban. Yaxley had been close by when Harry had cast that Ice barrier. But it was Travers’s son that had her stumped, was he the one who was Splinched? She couldn’t be sure.

The belongings that she took from the man on the platform, she immediately opened her purse and checked. There was a Ministry ID. It said, Cadmus Adam Travers. The surname left little to the imagination. The man who had died was the Death Eater Travers’s son.

She recorded another message and sent her Otter flying away as she turned to him, “Har-”

“Do you have the locket?” He interrupted her.

It caught her off guard. She had forgotten about the locket since they took it. She knew that it was Harry’s way of distracting himself. She searched for it but couldn’t find it until she realised that she had changed clothes. She quickly stood up and proceeded to the discarded clothes on her bed and she checked the pockets until she found the locket.

“Here…” She said as she gave him the cursed piece of jewellery.

It was as large as a chicken’s egg. An ornate letter S, inlaid with many small green stones, glinting dully at the lamplight in the tent. He remembered the mangled remains of the diary, and how the stone in the Horcrux ring had been cracked open when Dumbledore destroyed it. The locket looked pristine. Kreacher’s efforts had done nothing to even damage it, just a few scratches here and there.

He felt a cold feeling wash over him. Suddenly, he was all too aware of what he was holding in his hand, aware of what evil lurked behind the little golden doors. After all their efforts to find it, he felt a violent urge to fling the locket from him. Was it his own blood pulsing through his veins that he could feel, or was it something beating inside the locket? It almost felt like there was a tiny metal heart beating inside it.

The ring on his finger began vibrating in that instant, it was warning him of the danger inside the locket. He instinctively closed his eyes for a moment and he focused on his mental barriers, ramping up his Occulumency. With his Occulumency up, he could control the urge to throw it as far as he could. It still felt slimy in his hand, like he was sullied just by holding it. But the stronger he focused on his Occulumency; the ring’s warning slowly subsided.

“This thing is evil.” He muttered out loud.

Hermione’s eyes went wide for a moment, “What do you mean?”

He held out the locket to her, “Hold it in the palm of your hand and see for yourself.”

She tentatively took it and curiously clutched the locket in her palm. It took her half a minute to start feeling its effects, but when she did, she dropped it to the floor and instantly backpedalled from it.

She felt like a failure, as though she had failed her parents, failed Ron, failed Harry. Umbridge’s fate brought a deep surge of guilt out of her heart and she almost wailed. It took her a moment to feel the effects subside and her mind to calm itself.

Her eyes went to Harry who was sitting down on the wooden steps by the door flap absently peering outside into the woods. The night was already falling upon them; the hours had gone by so quickly.

They were all trying to distract themselves from thinking about what had happened. With the loss of Grimmauld Place, morale was low. She decided not to let him dwell on it, “Looks like it’s enchanted to affect the person holding it or wearing it.” Hermione said idly as she picked it back up by the chain and handed the locket to him. She watched him silently store it in his Mokeskin pouch.

“It could have influenced that toad Umbridge to be crueller.” She hadn’t expected to hear that from him.

Harry was still looking outside unmoving from his seat at the door, as she replied, “You know what Umbridge was like.”

“I know,” His tone was solemn, “But it was my idea to lock all the Dementors in that courtroom with her. Did she deserve that?”

“I don’t know.” She replied as she sat down next to him.

What could she say to that? Would anything she said help? She did the only thing she could do; she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged him as tightly as she could. It only took a moment before he gave in and laid his forehead on her shoulder. They sat there for a few minutes and Harry made no efforts to move. That’s when she felt his entire weight shift on her and heard him snoring slightly into her shoulder, he had dozed off.

Chapter 9: Process

Chapter Text

Grimmauld Place –

He was familiar with these stairs, they felt larger than life but felt like home. He could feel himself slithering behind Voldemort to a stop. The Dark Lord stood there staring at the Black family tapestry and he felt the irritation in the magic that electrified the air.

He sensed two other people come up behind him, he could feel their heat closing in. He recognised them both by their scent, they were Death Eaters, Yaxley and Travers. He could feel himself coiling around and hiss at the two men. Both the Death Eaters dropped down on one knee and held their heads down and simultaneously chorused, “Milord…” Both of them kept their eyes firmly rooted on the floor and didn’t even dare look at him.

“Yaxley…” The Dark Lord’s voice echoed through the room and the gas lamps flickered at the pulsing magic.

“My lord,” Yaxley’s voice shook as he replied.

“What have you got for me?”

Yaxley gulped inaudibly and began swiftly, “We’re fairly certain that it was Potter who infiltrated the Ministry under disguise. Disguised as Albert Runcorn. We found Runcorn and two others nearby the Ministry entrance. Potter wasn’t alone, he had help from two others. We’ve confirmed that the Weasley boy is still at home and not a party to the infiltration. We believe that it was his Mudblood whor* who posed as Hopkirk and we have reason to believe that he had help from at least one of Dumbledore’s supporters who was disguised as Gamp.”

“From the Order? Who?”

“We do not know, milord.” He felt Yaxley’s pulse quicken at that, “We’ve kept most of them under surveillance and none of them has made any moves so far. We’ve still yet to – identify…all the members of Dumbledore’s supporters, it is possible that we might have overlooked someone.”

“What of the ICW?” The Dark Lord’s slithering cold tone came with a hint of mocking in it.

“We have prevented them from entering the country so far under legal grounds and apprehended the ones who tried to slip in. We’re certain that they have not made contact with Potter. Our reports indicate that the ICW is largely uninterested in Potter, they underestimate him.”

The Dark Lord turned to stare at Yaxley with his blood-red eyes, “Rise.” The two loyal men followed orders and stood back up.

“What of you, Yaxley? Did you underestimate him?” The magic shifted, he felt it. Voldemort’s aura had somehow thickened and Yaxley was perspiring profusely.

“Milord…”

Voldemort raised his hand to Yaxley’s neck, silencing him and waved his hand to wandlessly move aside Yaxley’s robes and inspected what looked like frostbite on the man’s neck, “Potter has left a mark on you. One which you will remember. You’ve managed to survive, but you will wear it with shame.”

“Milord…?”

“CRUCIO!” Yaxley buckled to the torture curse.

Within moments, the Death Eater was flung backwards, landing on his back on the floor writhing as he screamed, “The mark he left on you is the least of your concerns! Crucio!”

As the torture curse ended, he could see Voldemort turning to Travers who hadn’t even batted an eye yet, but he felt the man’s heat growing and his heart beating faster, “Travers!”

“Sire…” The man summoned whatever courage he could muster in his voice.

“What was it that Potter wanted from Umbridge?” Voldemort’s voice turned calm.

“We’re not sure, sire.” Travers replied feigning a sense of boldness, “Umbridge’s office was broken into, and the wards on the hidden safe seem to have been removed. Otherwise, the room was left untouched. We have reason to believe that something was taken from the safe, but without Umbridge, we cannot confirm what.”

Voldemort circled the man with his wand clasped in his hand as a warning, “Go on.”

“We suspect that Potter knew exactly where the safe was located…, what to look for, and – how to remove the enchantments on it. We suspect that Potter had a helper inside. The infiltrators seem to have split apart upon entry into the Ministry. The one posing as Gamp was on the lookout, the one posing as Hopkirk went to Umbridge and we believe Potter to have impersonated Runcorn and broke into Umbridge’s office undetected. Whatever it was that was taken from the safe, also seems to have something to do with the rescue of the Muggle-borns. We also have reason to believe that Potter used the Muggle-borns he rescued to send a message to all the Muggle-borns. We’ve been hearing whispers of many Muggle-borns around the country either fleeing or hiding over the last twelve hours.”

As Yaxley got back on his feet, Voldemort placed a hand on his shoulder and forced him to his knees instead, “And what of the Weasleys?”

Travers was quick to reply, “The Minister ordered an arrest, but they had a solid alibi. We administered Veritaserum on both Arthur Weasley and his boy; they knew nothing. Potter knew better than to use them.”

“Grrmm…!” A green flash engulfed the room. He coiled around himself tighter, waiting for the Death Eater to fall. It took him a moment to realise that Voldemort had fired the Killing Curse at the tapestry, right on top of his picture underneath Sirius’s, leaving a scorched picture with just his name below it.

“The boy has made his first move.” The Dark Lord muttered and stared intently at the tapestry, “It seems to be our turn now.”

“FIND THEM!” The Dark Lord’s voice echoed.

The Tent –

His eyes flew open and he sat up on his bed in a cold sweat, holding his aching head and breathing hard. The scar on his forehead was burning and he felt a stabbing pain. He snapped his head towards the clap of thunder rumbling in the distant sky. It was raining outside, and the noise of the falling droplets of water on the tent fabric outside was distinct. And the cold in the air was unmistakable.

Idly listening to the rain soothed him and he felt the sting on his scar lessen in intensity. He laid back down on the bed and stared at the ceiling of the tent. The tent was dark and the light outside was dull as well, he could tell even without his glasses.

“Harry?” He heard the call as he sat up again and blindly searched for his glasses until his hand stumbled upon them. He took it and wore it, his eyes adjusted to see a completely worn-out-looking Hermione giving him a tired smile, “You’re awake.” She breathed in relief.

The way she tiredly said that made him feel guilty and he didn’t know why. Immediately getting out of bed, he stood up and that’s when he noticed that he wasn’t wearing his shirt. Before he could ask her where his shirt went, she answered, “You were running a high fever. I had to –”

At her hesitant look, he turned to the desk by the bed to see the bowl of water and the wet cloth. Clearly, she was taking care of him. He found his shirt draped at the foot of his bed and he picked it up and pulled it over his head in seconds. His neck was aching at the sides, but it was no longer wrapped in bandages.

“Grm… How long was I out?” His voice was hoarser, he asked as he took in her tired, dishevelled form.

“Fif-fifteen hours,”

His eyes went wide. He couldn’t believe that he had slept that long. He quickly did a little mental math and guessed the time to be around ten in the morning, but one look outside at the raining horizon and it looked like it was already evening. He hated this sort of weather, always made him melancholy.

He saw Ron still in his bed, his face was still swollen. It took him a minute to comprehend that she had been taking care of him and Ron at the same time. It explained why she looked as if she was about to keel over any second.

“Grm… Have you been up all night?” His throat hurt when he talked. Hermione did her best to give him a reassuring smile, but it only made her look as if she was half-asleep and half grimacing.

“I slept a bit.”

“Okay,” He nodded with a yawn as he slowly pushed her to the bed, “Get some rest. I’ll – I’ll look after Ron.”

She didn’t resist one bit, she let out a yawn of her own and mumbled, “Just for a minute.” Her eyes closed as soon as her head touched the pillow. Tucking her under his sheet, he left her in his bed as he went and sat in the chair next to Ron’s bed.

Within minutes of idle thought, his mind drifted to the vision of Voldemort in Grimmauld Place. The problem with visions was that they were very different compared to dreams or nightmares. You cannot recall a dream or a nightmare just ten minutes after waking up, they would have already faded away from memory. But a vision was just like a memory, almost as if you had experienced it yourself. That’s why he hated it so much. He couldn’t forget it even if he tried.

His thoughts drifted yet again. If Voldemort saw the tapestry, chances were that the Dark Lord knew that he was aware of the existence of Riddle’s and Bellatrix’s daughter. What would Voldemort do? That frightened him.

Those worrying thoughts led him to think about what transpired between Riddle and the Death Eaters. If Voldemort checked Umbridge’s body and recognised the duplicate locket, there was a high probability that you-know-who would know that they were hunting after his Horcruxes. That would be bad news. Correction, that would be the worst news. Riddle would retrieve all the Horcruxes and hide them elsewhere. He prayed that Voldemort didn’t go down that route.

That thought eventually led him back to Umbridge, he remembered Remus’s Patronus message and he could instantly picture her being attacked by Dementors like he, Hermione and Sirius were attacked by the lake all those years ago. That had been a chilling experience, they had all faced death. The thought of death brought the image of the dead man on that platform, those cold blue lifeless eyes staring back at him much as Cedric’s had been.

His mood dropped and reached ground zero, to the point that he couldn’t even think anymore, but he didn’t want to think or feel anything. Quickly getting up, he got himself a towel and decided to take a shower. He couldn’t sit still, he needed to keep himself preoccupied.

The long shower calmed his nerves and when he was out, he was quick to keep himself occupied. He started cooking and he kept it simple with some bacon and toast and eggs with tea. Ron would be unable to bite or chew anything for a while, so he made just enough for him and Hermione. He had half-expected Ron to wake up to the smell of food, but he hadn’t. It just showed how sedated he was.

Setting a plate for himself, he sat down to eat at the table. There were several papers spread apart on the wood, but the first thing he noticed was the Sneakoscope. The Sneakoscope Hermione had given him for his birthday was on the table, to alert them if someone untrustworthy came close to their tent. Hermione’s bottomless purse was beside the device. A little away on the table was a pair of glasses he hadn’t seen before, it wasn’t his. It took him a moment to recognise it as the pair that they had taken from that Snatcher yesterday.

Beside an open Runology book, the specs laid idly. The specs were on top of a piece of parchment, which had notes that said, ‘Enchanted. Purchased from Wiseacre’s shop…’ He knew that shop, it sold many instruments. They had once bought a Star Chart from there for their Astronomy class. Pulling out his wand, he gave a tap on the specs which turned into the monocle, he checked the edges and saw the name Wiseacre etched on it. Clearly, Hermione had been inspecting it.

He continued reading the notes, ‘Has a magnifying effect. The Runework also matches that of a Foe Glass.’ His mind wandered to Barty Crouch Jr disguised as Moody explaining to him the nature of a Foe Glass.

All of a sudden, it dawned on him. He understood how that Snatcher had tracked them. If the Monocle that was enchanted to look like a regular pair of specs was a foe glass, it explained how that man had followed them even when they were under the cloak. To the Snatcher, anyone who opposed the Ministry was a foe, anyone who feared him or hated him was a foe. Normal people would have nothing to worry about, but those who were in hiding would be afraid of being outside, afraid of being seen, that paranoia would automatically trigger the foe glass to detect them. It was a brilliant way to track them.

He had been afraid of being out in the open at King’s Cross. Hermione would have been reasonably cautious or maybe even afraid of being out in the open when she had first gone to get groceries. They would have automatically triggered the foe glass. It made perfect sense.

Slowly chewing on his food, he intently pondered on their next move. There were four more Horcruxes to find. An item related to Ravenclaw, the Hufflepuff’s Cup, the snake, and himself. He had no idea where the two items were hidden and luring the snake away from Voldemort would be no easy task. Breakfast no longer tasted good as he chewed on it.

Just as he was thinking about the Horcruxes, a hand-drawn diagram caught his eye. He parted the parchments and he took a look. It was the pencilled diagram of a cup. Taking a closer look, he realised that it was Hermione’s idea of what the Hufflepuff’s Cup looked like. It took him a moment to understand that he was the only one who knew what it looked like.

He found a pencil among the parchments and he slowly added some details to the cup with two cleanly curved handles and the image of a badger among the leaves on the front of the cup. When he finished, he sat there resuming his breakfast as he read Hermione’s notes.

“Diary – Destroyed. Was left in the care of a trusted servant. Cup – Location unknown. Ring – Destroyed. Was left in the maternal family house. Locket – Intact. In possession. Unknown Object related to Rowena Ravenclaw – Location unknown. Possible location – Wool’s Orphanage???”

He paused there, Voldemort’s orphanage could be of sentimental value, although he highly doubted it. He would never want to go back to Privet Drive, or even consider it a home. Why would Voldemort? It didn’t make sense, but he did understand Hermione’s reasoning for including it.

His eye caught something on the edge. “Regulus believed the creation of more than one Horcruxes to be impossible... Knew the Locket belonged to Salazar Slytherin… Did not suspect the existence of any other Horcruxes...” He read her note on the side of the page.

His eyes went wide. Hermione had decoded Regulus’s notes. She never told him that, he wondered why. He was also a little disappointed that Regulus’s notes did not help them with any new clues. Then again, Regulus’s knowledge on the subject was limited to the books he had in his possession and none of it even implied that a soul can even be split apart more than once. Even Voldemort had to go to Slughorn to learn it, he doubted that Regulus ever divulged his suspicions to anyone.

Finishing his breakfast, he stood up in deep thought. Leaving the plate on the sink and casting a washing spell on it, he came back to the table. He went back to his bed which was now occupied by a very tired Hermione who was sound asleep, he found his money bag.

He came back to the table and opened the bag, summoning all the papers out of the bag with a wave of his wand and stopped as soon as bundles of pounds came flying about. Arranging all the papers from Umbridge’s office in order, he shoved the bundles of money back into the bag and closed it.

With a renewed sense of interest, he took a seat and got to work. Work that stopped him from thinking about everything else.

It was half-past four and the rain still hadn’t let up, it was still drizzling. Having just woken up, she felt cold, colder than usual and she wasn’t wearing a jumper. It irritated her. But that wasn’t the only reason, Harry was at the table going through her notes, and he was writing something on her notes. And the table itself somehow looked off.

Hesitantly getting out of bed, she dragged herself up to him, she asked in a tone that had a restrained sense of irritation, “What are you doing?”

Harry froze for a second at her voice, he looked startled. From the way Harry’s face distorted in surprise, she knew that it had come out harsher than she had meant it, “I mean –”

“Hey...” He said unsurely.

After a moment of pause, he said, “I’m adding details to your notes.” She noticed a change in his voice, it was subtle but it was deeper than usual, almost as if he was putting more of an effort when talking. Her eyes travelled to the red angry marks on his neck which were still very visible. She could only guess that this was due to him being almost choked to death. That made her angry. And the way he replied with a calm shrug as he went back to scribbling only served to irritate her more.

“What – details?” She wrapped her arms around herself feeling cold.

“Details from Dumbledore’s memories.” He casually replied as he moved one of the parchments to her view, pointing at the drawn picture with the back of the pencil, “You’ve never seen the Gaunt Shack, have you? This is what it looks like.” She noticed the details on the structure he had drawn next to her notes.

He wandlessly and nonverbally levitated another parchment to her and then pointed his pencil at it, “And this is what Helga Hufflepuff’s Cup looks like.”

The Hufflepuff Cup’s artistic look intrigued her; all books portrayed the cup differently. Her irritation slowly ebbed away and her curiosity grew, “All details matter…” She muttered as she took a seat.

“I know,” He smirked as he nodded, “You’ve been saying that to us forever, Hermione.”

“Yes, she has!” Ron’s voice echoed.

Her eyes widened as she turned to the bed, “Ron?”

“Oh, yes. Ron’s awake.” Harry shrugged again as he kept scribbling.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She looked at Ron whose face was still cursed; his eyes were still fully swollen shut, but the swelling on his jaw and by his nose was almost gone.

He ignored her apprehension and asked, “I gave him three ounces of pain potion, is that too much?”

It took her a moment to comprehend the sudden shift, “Y-yes, it’s too much.” She replied more subdued in thought, “We don’t have that much. We have to conserve what we have. One and a half ounces is more than enough for a day.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Harry nodded seriously, “And he won’t drink the dreamless sleep potion. I keep telling him to sleep so that he can heal better, but he won’t listen. Will you tell him to drink it?”

They both heard Ron grumble something under his breath, but the bed was just far away enough from them so they didn’t hear it. She stood up and walked to Ron’s bed and stood next to him, “Ron, how are you feeling?”

“Better, but I can’t see and it’s itchy,” Ron said slowly.

“Don’t scratch, you’ll make it worse. I’ll see if I can make something to stop the itching.”

Ron mumbled, “Fine.”

“You should drink the dreamless sleep potion.” She slowly broached the topic.

Ron’s demeanour changed in an instant, “I don’t want to spend the day being useless in bed.” He snapped at her.

“We don’t know what this curse is. I don’t know the counter spell. This has to heal naturally and it’ll only heal better if you get enough sleep.” She explained to him.

“I don’t care,” Ron shot back almost like a petulant child, “I’m not going back to sleep. Stop nagging me.”

She had half a mind to just force two ounces of the potion down his throat to make him sleep, but saner heads prevailed. Any little joy she had of him finally waking up quickly evaporated. She stamped her foot back to the table with a quiet, “Fine.”

“Harry, before you scribble something on my notes, ask me first.” She told him snappishly.

A single eyebrow rose and he gave her a look. She knew that she was being unreasonable to him for no reason. He wasn’t doing anything harmful to her notes. It was just that she enjoyed her notes in her legible handwriting and not Harry’s scribbles.

He looked as if he wanted to say something, instead, he just went back to her notes, “Go get fresh and eat something. You haven’t eaten anything in a while. Foods in the kitchen.”

It was his way of telling her to calm herself down and she hated that he was the one keeping a calm head in the tent and not her. As she went to the kitchen, she noticed his stiff and more guarded posture. She had seen that many times in their fifth year. He only did that when he withdrew from others and she understood that he was trying to distract himself by doing anything.

A hot shower did help immensely, a fresh set of clothes and a warm sweater made her calm. Setting herself a plate of bacon and toast and eggs under a warming charm she slowly started while making it to the table. As soon as she made it to the table, she noticed what exactly it was that she found off about it. The table was extended in size and there were more papers on the table than ever.

A little pink slip among the sea of white and yellow caught her eye, it looked like a pamphlet. Placing the plate on an empty spot, she reached out and pulled the pink slip out from underneath the many parchments.

On it was a title, in bold letters.

MUDBLOODS

and the Dangers They Pose to

a Peaceful Pure-Blood Society

Beneath the title was a picture of a red rose with a simpering face in the middle of its petals, being strangled by a green weed with fangs and a scowl.

“Harry? Where did you get this?” She asked in horror.

He looked up at her and then at the pamphlet before he shrugged, “Outside Umbridge’s office. They were making it. I nicked one of them.”

It bothered her. The pamphlet, the message in it, and Harry’s nonchalance about it. Everything bothered her. Her sleep had been riddled with images of the dead Death Eater in the station, about Umbridge being kissed, it was a strange sensation of guilt. She quickly told herself that she felt nothing for Umbridge, she knew that woman deserved it, and she did not feel pity, not for her.

“Are you still feeling guilty about Umbridge?” She asked as she showed him the pamphlet.

“I don’t know,” He replied coolly, “I haven’t thought about her.” It was a lie, but he decided that she didn’t need to know that.

She wanted to grimace at reminding him of something distasteful that he wished not to remember, but before she could Ron asked, “What happened to that toad?”

A sudden short bout of silence fell in the tent, but Harry finally said as he started sifting through the parchments with an impassive face, “She’s dead.”

Ron sat up on the bed immediately, even though he couldn’t see he was staring right at them, “What? How?”

“Ron…” She was about to stop him, but Harry interrupted her.

“Kissed by Dementors at the Ministry when I locked her inside.” He said with a thick frown on his face.

“What?! Nobody tells me anything!” Ron’s indignation made it into his screech which made her sigh.

She instantly pinched the bridge of her nose; she couldn’t decide between snapping at Ron or Harry. Ultimately, her patience prevailed, she didn’t snap at either one of them, “We locked her inside, Harry. We. Not you.”

He immediately shook his head, “It was my idea and my plan to do that, you were just following my lead.”

The patience she had found moments ago was already gone, she almost screamed, “It was a judgement call!”

“We did what we had to do! At that moment, under pressure! Kreacher, Dobby or the other elves wouldn’t have fared any better if those Dementors had been around. We had to lock them up in there. Besides, there were already Dementors inside the courtroom, and there’s a good chance Umbridge would have gotten kissed anyway. It’s not our fault.”

Harry just stared at her with no emotion, “It’s not your fault at all, Hermione.”

“Nor is it yours.” She shot back instantly.

He paused for a moment before he continued in a seriously calm tone that worried her, “I’m not justifying it. That didn’t help me when Sirius died, just made me feel guiltier – and dirtier. I’m owning it.” He turned and continued calmly sifting through the papers, “It was my decision and I should be held responsible for it.”

She could tell that his argument wasn’t coming from a rational perspective. It was coming from a place of guilt, which she could understand, but didn’t know how to process.

Her eyes went to Ron who was looking very uncomfortable with what he had just heard Harry say. And she didn’t know whether to accept Harry’s statement or not. It perplexed her.

However, she did have something to show him, that’s why she had brought it up in the first place. She pulled her purse to her and opened it placing her wand, “Accio notepad.” A notepad flew out of the purse and she checked it for a moment before placing it in front of him.

“What’s this?” He asked as he took it in his right hand.

“The names of all the Muggleborns who have been Kissed or sentenced to Azkaban to date.” She replied to him, “Umbridge had the list.”

Harry recoiled; he suddenly didn’t want to touch it. She reached over and moved the pages manually until she stopped and pointed to a name, “Penelope Clearwater – Sentenced to…” He went still for a second, “…the Dementor’s Kiss.” He whispered as he read it and closed his eyes arching his head back until he was facing the ceiling of the tent.

“I’m sorry…” He spoke to her.

“Over a hundred Muggle-borns have lost their lives already and hundreds more are now in the cells of Azkaban. Many more of them have lost their wands, and their livelihood, and are suffering. So, stop feeling guilty over that heartless excuse of a woman!” She wiped at her eyes, her voice quivered just thinking of Penny, one of her friends and role models in school having suffered an undeserved fate.

Silence prevailed in the tent and time felt like it moved slower. Ron laid back on the bed and went still. She absentmindedly started eating her food, which felt entirely tasteless. Harry was silently going through the list of names with an expression of impassive coldness, but there was a certain level of rage in his eyes that she could see, which strangely satisfied her.

Time moved and silence reigned in the tent. When the plate was empty, she stood up and went to the kitchen sink where she washed it. She came back to the table to see Harry staring off into space. She sat beside him and slowly broached a subject that needed to be addressed.

“Harry…” She called and he turned to her.

“Yeah,”

“We can’t stay here very long. Remember what Remus said in his message? We need to keep moving.” She had waited till now because Ron had been too injured and Harry himself hadn’t been in a proper mental state.

The bleeding in Ron’s eyes had stopped and he seemed to be doing well and Harry himself looked much more focused than he had been yesterday. This would be the right time to move to somewhere else remote.

“Where will we go?” He asked more to himself than to her.

“I once visited my grandparents near Swansea. We went on a picnic at a camping site near a forest. I remember the place well enough to apparate. We could go there. We have enough supplies and we could lay low for a while.” She suggested.

Harry turned to Ron, “Can we move him? Is he still –”

“Don’t talk as if I’m not here.” Ron chimed in annoyed.

“I thought you were asleep.” Harry returned with a sigh and from the way Ron shifted in the bed, she could tell that he wasn’t happy.

“Well, I’m not.” Ron shot right back.

Harry just sighed again and gave her an exasperated look filled with question, and she shook her head reassuringly, “He’ll be fine. The swelling is going down already. I’ll double the dosage of Wiggenweld tonight and he will heal faster. We can move tomorrow before nightfall.”

Harry didn’t say anything. He just sat there staring at her for a moment, prompting her to ask, “Harry?”

He suddenly stood up and went around the table and started shifting the papers as he asked, “How well do you know the map?”

“The map?”

“The map of the UK,” he said in an obvious tone as he searched.

She heard him mutter, “Where is it? Where is it?” Until he let out an “Aha…” With that, he pulled out what looked like a folded piece of parchment.

Unfolding it, he stretched out what looked like an old map of the UK and he laid it on the table before her. The places where it was folded had creases that looked worn out. Whoever took care of this wasn’t taking care of it properly. That made her think.

“Where did you find this?” She asked curiously.

He told her quickly, “All the papers from this side of the table are from Umbridge’s office.”

“You ransacked the office?” She looked shocked.

“And broke into her wall safe as well.” He added distractedly.

Before she could question him more on it, he pointed his finger at a red dot, “Do you know what this is?”

She followed his finger to the dot and scrutinized the map. She found that there were no names on it, “Should I?”

He looked disappointed, “No. Not particularly. My memory on maps is foggy, at best. I was hoping you could tell me what these are.”

Hermione decided to humour him mildly due to her curiosity and she took a closer look at the map. There were thirteen red dots in total. The dots were out of the way from road routes, “These aren’t cities.” She said unsurely.

Harry smiled brightly, “So it wasn’t just me.” He muttered before he asked excitedly, “Are these by any chance – magical…settlements?”

That made her think that he was onto something, “There are over seventy remote magical towns or villages, some of them purely magical like Hogsmeade, some of them partially hidden, like Godric’s Hollow. But you can’t mark those settlements on a map of this scale. This is the map of the UK. You will need maps of specific regions to mark the location of settlements accurately.”

“If these aren’t cities and if these aren’t magical dwellings. What are they? I mean, what could they be? This map was among the parchments I took from the wall safe in Umbridge’s office. It was something that she wanted to keep hidden. It must be important.” Harry made his reasoning.

Something didn’t add up. Why was Harry this interested in this map? His sudden enthusiasm didn’t make sense to her.

“Why are you so interested in this map? What do you think these dots are?” She turned the question on him.

Harry hesitated a little before he replied in a low tone, “I saw him, Hermione. I saw Riddle in Grimmauld Place.”

“You mean…? You let him in?!” She shot up from her seat as realisation sunk in, “Harry, you can’t do that! You said your Occulumency was getting better!” She said hotly.

“I was asleep!” He snapped at her, “There was nothing I could do!”

She bit her lip and bit back her retort. Thankfully, he went on to explain, “Look…both Travers and Yaxley were there as well. Riddle saw the tapestry. They were talking – about our stunt at the Ministry. They don’t know what was in the safe and fortunately, without Umbridge, they can’t find out, but they did think it was important. This map was in the safe, it has to be important.”

She ran back to what he just said and what he asked her minutes ago and she surmised where he was going with this line of thought. It couldn’t be. She looked back at the map. The red dots looked like it was in odd places. It was too good to be true. Without another map to compare it to, she couldn’t tell for sure, but she knew that it was oddly located. She rarely relied on gut feeling, unlike Harry who was mostly just instinct. It unsettled her.

“Harry? Are you thinking that these dots are where – Death Eaters and/or Snatchers – congregate, do you?” She said it sceptically.

He looked unsure for a moment before he straightened himself, “It could be.” He replied confidently.

She looked at the dots and her eyes widened. If this was true, then they could be safe by avoiding these locations altogether. But she wasn’t so sure and before they jumped to any conclusion, they had to verify this.

“We need a map.”

“What?”

She shook her head, “Let me rephrase that, we need a modern map.”

At his confusion, she clarified, “If we can compare these locations with a modern map and see if these are random places in the middle of nowhere, away from cities and civilization, then we can safely say that these are locations that we need to avoid.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded in agreement to that, but added, “Until we know for sure. We should avoid these places anyway, just to be safe.”

She nodded in agreement. She looked towards Swansea, where she knew her grandparents’ home was and she noticed that there weren’t any red dots nearby. She found that oddly comforting.

“We’ll move tomorrow.”

He folded the map and placed it separately on the table. She sat down and started sifting through the parchments and documents taken from Umbridge’s office to see if there was anything useful in them that they could learn and use.

He moved a pile of brown files towards her, “These are what you’re looking for. Trust me.”

She nodded and just as she was about to start with the files, she saw him holding out the pair of glasses they had taken from the Snatcher.

She inaudibly took it and gave him a look, “Use it.” He said shortly.

“Harry, do you know what this is?” She asked him.

“It’s a foe glass, isn’t it?” He stated it more as a statement than as a question.

She affirmed with a nod, but before she could ask how he knew, he voluntarily explained, “I read your notes.” Then he added, “Barty Crouch Jnr had foe glass in Moody’s office in school. He was using it to keep track of those suspicious of him. He explained it to me when I went to Moody’s office.” His short explanation was his way of saying not to ask him more questions.

She had to admit that it was brilliant. Barty Crouch Jr being disguised as Moody, he could at any moment have slipped up and been discovered. A foe glass would have immediately pointed out who was suspicious and what to look out for. She had to give credit where it was due, using a foe glass was a brilliant plan.

Pulling out her wand, she muttered, “Diffingo…” She transfigured the glasses to fit more of Sirius’s design she had studied from his notes. Rectangular wireframes with slimmer temples. She placed it on her nose and pushed it further in until it was snug on the bridge of her nose.

It felt a little uncomfortable as though it was restricting her face, but she supposed that was normal. It would take some time to get used to it. The vision was much the same, except at a mere thought, her vision magnified to where she was looking, as though she was looking through a binocular. That was useful if a bit jarring at first.

“How does it look?” She asked him and she didn’t get an answer. Her vision zoomed in and then out before Harry’s face focused.

Harry just kept staring at her. But it wasn’t like any other stare before, this one was different. It was as though he was both shocked and fascinated, that was odd, but there was also something else in his look that she couldn’t quite place.

A clap of thunder rumbled in the sky and rain picked up again outside. Harry abruptly turned to the door flap, “The rain’s picking up.” With that, he gave Ron a glance who was softly snoring again and walked away to stand by the door.

She idly wondered to herself, “What was that all about? Did the specs look bad on her?”

Why had he looked at her like that? Shaking her head, she chalked it off as Harry being Harry and diverted her attention to the files thanks to the magnifying effect of her new specs.

It was half-past ten when the rain stopped. That was over an hour ago. He stood outside in the cold of the night.

The locket was floating at his height in the air. He practised his magic thoroughly. Somewhere deep inside him, his mother’s words echoed, resonating over and over again, “You saw his duel with Dumbledore. Can you imagine going toe to toe with that – thing?”

The voice calmed him but the words discouraged him. No matter how much he sharpened his control over magic, a voice echoed inside him and kept saying that it wasn’t enough. He could barely make a locket float without a wand or word. It was barely a feat. How was he supposed to catch up to Voldemort?

It was times like these that made him think that maybe Dumbledore was right. Perhaps, death was the safest option. If Voldemort’s mortal, perhaps someone else would stop him, someone better at all this than he ever would be. Destroying all the Horcruxes and dying in a fight with Voldemort, perhaps that was his purpose in life. His death was necessary to make Voldemort mortal again.

“…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...” How else was he supposed to interpret the prophecy? It made sense why Dumbledore sent him on this suicide mission.

The pale face of the Death Eater at King’s Cross came to mind. Travers’s son. Travers hadn’t hinted anything about his son’s disappearance to Voldemort. He knew that Voldemort wouldn’t have cared, but he wanted to know what the man thought about his son. Then again, Travers had been in Azkaban since the end of the First War. Did he even care about his son?

The Diggory couple hadn’t blamed him for Cedric’s death, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t carried that guilt. After witnessing it with Cedric, causing it to Sirius, and now participating in it with Travers, death felt cheapened. He had killed someone, maybe death was what he deserved. The only thing stopping him was a promise that he had made to the one person who had loved him unconditionally and died for him.

The cold breeze in the night sobered him up. As much as he hated being in the limelight of the harsh reality, he also knew that he wouldn’t want this any other way. Being delusional has never helped him before and he wasn’t about to start now. He wished he was in the Astral world; the world was moving too fast for him.

“Harry?”

Broken out of his thoughts, he turned to see Hermione peeking out of the tent, “Yeah.”

“It’s almost midnight.” She said to him.

He nodded as he quickly turned back to the locket, “Is Ron asleep?”

“Yes, it took a sleep spell, but he’s asleep.”

“Good,” He turned back to the floating locket, “He needs to heal quickly.”

“I’ll take the first watch tonight.” She told him and walked forward.

He shook his head, “No, I’ll do it. You need to rest too.”

He didn’t see her but could tell that she agreed with him judging by the lack of complaints. He could hear her footsteps recede and the door flap move, but there was a pause.

“Harry?” She called again, “Do you think we are unprepared?”

He froze at that. He knew this was coming. He just knew it. But knowing it did not help him brace for it, he still hated the question.

“Yes,” He replied frankly, “We are.”

“We are three seventeen-year-olds not even out of school, fighting a war while hunting Horcruxes of the world’s most dangerous Dark Wizard. We couldn’t be more out of our element as we are now.”

“We did our best.” Her voice was akin to a whisper.

He turned to her, “I know we did. You did a good job, Hermione. I know I don’t say it as often as I should, but I appreciate everything you do, don’t ever doubt it.” He could see a hint of a smile on the corner of her lips.

“Are you worried?” Her voice was softer than before.

He couldn’t find the voice to speak up, so he just nodded at her question. How could he not be worried? He may be presenting a calm front out of necessity, but his mind was a tinderbox.

“We don’t give up.” She spoke, more of a reaffirming statement than a question.

“We don’t give up.” He repeated her words.

With that, she left and he was alone again. It was a strange sense of reassurance that he needed. ‘Inflamare.’ He uttered the spell in his mind and channelled his magic in another attempt to wandlessly and non-verbally ignite the locket. It failed, so he kept trying.

Next Afternoon –

They were all packed to move. Hermione was preparing a simple potion for Ron to stop the itching. The swelling on Ron’s face had shrunk significantly, and now he could see them again, although his eyes did constantly water.

“What do you think?” He sat on a chair by Ron’s bed, leaning forward as Ron inspected the locket.

“I don’t like it. Feels – foul.” Ron made a face as he handed him the locket back.

He idly wondered what Ron would say if he knew about the contents of his scar. He quickly diverted his thought away from that line of thinking. This wasn’t the time to dwell on that.

“How do we destroy it?” Ron asked curiously.

“Don’t know.”

“What do you mean?” Ron asked him bewildered.

He closed his eyes and sighed, “Last night, I tried to melt it under fire. Didn’t work. It’s under protective enchantments.”

“There must be some other way.”

As much as it hurt him to say it, he said it, “I wouldn’t underestimate, Riddle. He would have done everything to ensure that it cannot be destroyed.”

“Brilliant…” Ron exhaled, “Just bloody brilliant! We go through all this to find this thing and we don’t even know how to destroy it!”

“We’ll find a way, Ron.” He calmly tried to reassure the redhead.

Almost as if he hadn’t even heard him, Ron went on, “There must be some way. Dumbledore must have told you something. I mean, he taught you about these Horcruxes, he must have taught you how to destroy them.”

For some reason that grated on his nerves more than he thought it would. Dumbledore, he hadn’t thought about Dumbledore’s teachings or the lack thereof in a while, and for good reason. The man was more than willing to send him to certain death to accomplish his plans. Instead of teaching him the necessary magical skills that he would sorely need, all he had gotten from the old man was a bunch of memories.

“I don’t know, Ron. The only thing that we know that could destroy a Horcrux is the basilisk fang. And we don’t have any of those lying about. Even so, the diary wasn’t under any protective enchantments like this locket, so we don’t know if the fang would work on this locket.”

“Think for Merlin’s sake!” Ron snapped at him, “Think. Dumbledore must have told you something.”

“I don’t know, Ron!” He repeated firmly.

Ron huffed at him and turned towards where Hermione was sitting on the floor and brewing a remedy for Ron. Ron’s eyes narrowed at Hermione for a moment, half in introspection and half in annoyance.

“Why’s she wearing those glasses?” Ron whispered to him, “Those look like yours. Why is she wearing your glasses?”

He looked over at Hermione’s face of pure concentration. Those glasses did look like his. He quickly turned away and explained to Ron, “It’s not mine. It’s a foe glass. We took it off a Snatcher who was following us as we were buying food.”

Ron huffed again, this time harsher than before, he looked like they had betrayed him.

“When did that happen? Why didn’t you tell me? Nobody tells me anything!” Ron’s face was red in what looked like rage, but not quite as furious as he had seen him before.

He understood why Ron was irritant, the itching must be driving him mad, but he didn’t appreciate Ron snapping at him. He idly wondered if this was how Hermione and Ron had felt whenever he was feeling mad due to the scar.

“You were injured and asleep.” He shrugged, already getting tired of the redhead acting like a prat. Ron looked a little sheepish, but otherwise still was unwilling to apologise.

Ron folded his arms and continued, “It doesn’t look right. She doesn’t –” He trailed off.

Harry wanted to argue with him on that, he did find it attractive. Quickly shaking his head, he purged that thought out of his head and he countered, “You’re more than welcome to tell her that yourself.” And he gave Ron a dead stare.

Ron Weasley may be many things, but he was wise enough to know when he was beaten. Telling Hermione anything like that at this point was straight suicide and Ron knew that which shut him up instantly.

Ron laid back down, his eyes were watering again which Ron used the cloth to wipe off. Seeing that Ron didn’t want to talk anymore, he took the locket, stood up, and began walking to the kitchen in thought. Thinking about glasses, he remembered something. He stopped on the way and did a U-turn as he went to his bed. He took his Mokeskin pouch, putting the locket in, he pulled out Moody’s magical eye.

He stared at it for a moment and he went to Hermione who was carefully stirring the cauldron, “Do you have a minute?”

“Not now. I need twenty more minutes to finish this brew.” She shushed him.

What were another twenty minutes? He shrugged, “When you’re done, find me.” He said as he pocketed the eye and he went to the kitchen.

Hermione had made breakfast, so it has his turn to cook lunch. So, he quickly got to work he started by washing the pan and bowls and the vegetables and he began dicing the onions. Just as he finished and he was beginning to scrape the carrots, Hermione came into the kitchen.

“The potion is done. In one hour, it will reduce and become more potent.” She informed him and he furrowed his brows as he concentrated on the scraping, “So what is it?”

“What…? Oh yeah…” He remembered why he had interrupted her before.

He reached into his pocket and he took Moody’s eye out and showed it to her. She made a face at it, she took it and asked, “Why are you giving me this?”

“Do you remember how Moody’s eye used to work? It could see through things and even rotate to the back of the head.” She made a face once again as he reminded her. Hermione never liked Moody’s approach in class and the eye, then again, it was Barty Crouch Jr who had taught them, so it was a bit of a mess.

“Okay?” She dragged hesitantly.

He pointed it with his finger while holding a knife in his hand, “Can you by any chance use this to find out what spells were used to enchant it?”

“Why?” She asked confused.

“Isn’t it obvious?” He asked surprised that she hadn’t caught on yet, “If we can find out what spells they are, we can maybe add it to the enchantments on my specs and yours.”

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment, “I’ll see what I can do.” And she left the kitchen in a hurry.

The next few hours flew by in a haze of anxiety. Each of them was anxious for their reasons.

It was around nightfall, they were outside, ready to move. Ron was wearing a pungent-smelling salve on his face, mostly around his eyes, something that Hermione had whipped up. He stood near the redhead with the map in his hand despite the smell as Hermione packed the tent and stored it in her purse. He checked the map where Hermione had said Swansea was and there were no red dots nearby. Feeling relieved, he turned to Ron who was also intently watching the map trying to understand what the red dots were.

“We’re all packed.” She said to them.

They said nothing else. He pulled his wand and pointed to the wards and he muttered, “Finite Totalus.” As the wards fell and they were exposed, Hermione caught Ron and his wrists and they were gone in a spiral of shimmering images.

Chapter 10: Split

Chapter Text

September 19^th –

Austria

The sky remained dark with thick clouds. Thunder rumbled between the clouds, setting an eerie glow to the heaviness of the air. In a dark room, he could feel himself pacing in circles around the bound wandmaker on the floor, who looked worse than ever, covered in his blood and still clinging on to life.

Each time, he watched, he felt closer and closer to Voldemort. He could see, but he couldn’t stop Voldemort from doing it. And this time he watched through Voldemort’s own eyes and not the snake’s eye. He couldn’t even bring himself to shout in fear of Voldemort realising the present scope of their connection because if Voldemort possessed him, it wasn’t just his life at stake anymore, it was Ron’s and Hermione’s too, so he held himself at bay.

“Where is it?” Voldemort’s raspy slithering voice hissed at the man.

“I have it not! P-please,” The man was crying.

Voldemort’s horrendous cackling made him want to retch, but he couldn’t, all he could do was watch.

“Do not lie to me, wandmaker.”

“CRUCIO!” Red spark left the white wand and the man spasmed on the ground, his thrashing limbs drawing patterns on the floor below, patterns of blood. When the spell ended and the man breathed long, heavy breaths, shedding more tears.

“You’ve been elusive,” The Dark Lord said cackling, “I’ve enjoyed this hunt. But this is the end for you. Lord Voldemort will grant you mercy. Do you not want that? Do you not want this suffering to end? I can free you, wandmaker.”

He watched in abject horror as the vilest creature to ever exist on earth deconstructed the will and soul of the poor old man to the very core.

“Give it to me. And Lord Voldemort will set you free.”

Gregorovitch cried and nodded in resignation at Voldemort’s soft words. The man wanted it to end. He felt the pleasure Voldemort felt at seeing the wandmaker’s pain, the amusem*nt in seeing the man believe his tricks. He wished he could just close his eyes and stop watching, that he could just stop feeling what Voldemort felt. This was the closest he has ever felt the connection to be.

“I-it was stolen, many y-years ago. Stolen from me!” The man gasped out desperately.

Anger surged again, “Lies!”

“CRUCIO!”

The man’s body spasmed again. He didn’t even want to imagine the pain the man was going through at the moment. Voldemort relished in it, in the cruelty he doled out to validate the power of life and death he held over the retired wandmaker.

“Do not lie to Lord Voldemort, Gregorovitch. He knows… He always knows.”

“P-please…” The man stumbled and crawled on the floor begging, “I h-have told you the truth. I have told you!” The man was whimpering in tears.

“Crucio!” The torture continued for many minutes until it ended with Gregorovitch’s body giving out.

Voldemort revived Gregorovitch with a wave of his wand. And seemingly endless torture followed after that. He didn’t know how long he watched but was so thankful when Voldemort finally stopped, now fairly suspicious that Gregorovitch was not lying about whatever it was that Riddle was looking for.

That was one of the things that kept bothering him. What was so important that Gregorovitch had that Voldemort wanted?

There was a short bout of silence. The room they were in was filled with the whimpers of the aged man. Voldemort’s interest was beginning to wane. He could tell that the Dark Lord no longer felt pleasure in torturing the feeble man.

“Legilimens!”

And it happened, his mind expanded and foreign memories flashed before his eyes. He felt nauseous and anxious just like when Snape used to attack his mind ruthlessly in the name of training.

An image of a young black-haired Gregorovitch as a boy bent over many books, studying rare wands. Then it was phased to an older Gregorovitch who was in the process of constructing his first wand. Then an even older Gregorovitch with his sons collecting wand cores from magical creatures. Many, many such images hurried past his eyes, even things that seemed familiar.

Then it stopped, the final memory felt different, slower, careful. He was certain that this was the one Voldemort was looking for.

He saw Gregorovitch hurrying along a dark corridor with a lantern in hand. Gregorovitch burst into the room at the end of the passage and his lantern lit what looked like a workshop. On the window ledge sat perched, like a giant bird, was a young man with golden hair. In the split second that the lantern’s light fell on him, he saw the delight on the young man’s face, then the intruder shot a Stunning Spell at Gregorovitch and jumped neatly backwards out of the window laughing at his wake, as the wandmaker slumped to the floor.

As if he was splashed with cold water, he sprang awake. The last thing he heard was the words, “Avada Kedavra,” and that familiar flash of ghostly green before Gregorovitch’s bloody corpse went still.

The Tent –

His eyes blurred for an instant before Ron’s face materialised before him. It took him a moment to regain his bearings. He noticed that he had fallen asleep outside, under the tree where he had been sitting as he guarded the tent.

Ron’s accusing eyes meant that Ron knew what he had just gone through. He knew that he hadn’t screamed his head off this time during the trance, because if he had then Hermione would have been outside by now, lecturing him already.

“Ron – I –”

“Just, go in!” Ron snapped at him and walked away, clearly not wanting to hear his explanation.

He felt ashamed, for allowing his connection with Riddle to precipitate this much. He didn’t want them to see him like this, vulnerable, but there was only so much he could do. There was very little he could do when he slipped into Voldemort’s mind during deep sleep, no matter how much he practised his Occulumency. He was already sleeping very little these days and the strain was beginning to add up.

He pulled himself up and he dragged himself to the tent, forcibly feigning a relaxed look as he entered, not wanting to alarm Hermione this early in the morning, and on her birthday at that.

The day had gone by alarmingly fast; it was already dusk. There was no birthday fanfare from Hermione or them. Outside of a relatively grander lunch, they ate together, nobody felt like celebrating anything, not in this climate.

He stood by the entrance of the tent, watching the moon glisten palely through the trees in the darkening orange sky. The moon uncomfortably reminded him of something. It was the third night after the full moon.

They had promised Remus to get him the Wolfsbane potion ten full days before tonight, they had failed at that. He hoped that his honorary uncle was recovering from his rough nights.

He watched as Hermione instructed Kreacher with the brown files in hand. Those were hopefully all the information the Ministry had on the Order members. When he took those files from Umbridge’s office, he had done it on a whim, but it had been the right thing to do. After going through them, they found out that the Ministry knew far more about them than they had previously thought.

The ministry knew things, things that even they hadn’t. The Ministry knew about Percy’s secret girlfriend, which according to Ron even the family had known nothing about. They knew about Podmore’s now hidden Muggle-born wife; he hadn’t even known that Podmore was married. Hestia Jones’s squib brother, Emmeline Vance’s relocated family, professor McGonagall’s nephew and his muggle-born wife who had fled to America this past summer, and even the general whereabouts of the relocated Dursleys who were being guarded by Jones, things they had no clue about. There was even a file on him, which was filled with details mostly common knowledge, but a few new ones. There were details about the extended Potter branches living outside the country, they suspected that he would make contact with them and escape the country with a possibility of asylum in America, he hadn’t even known about the Potter branch family’s existence.

Ron had been beside himself ever since he learned about the files’ existence. He had studied through everything the Ministry knew about his family, and was understandably insistent that they had to find a way to get the files to his family. After a long conversation, they had decided that contacting the Weasleys was too much of a risk. They unanimously agreed to get the files to Remus, who would get them to the Weasleys or the Order.

Hermione finished instructing Kreacher and looked at him and gave a nod. He acknowledged it as he turned around towards the door flaps, giving a wave of his wand as a blue mist left the tip and coalesced into an irregular sphere of blue mist. His Patronus appeared to be non-corporeal. He smirked in satisfaction as he watched his first non-verbally cast, albeit non-corporeal Patronus fly away.

“Go, Kreacher,” Ron said quickly.

The elf gave a bow and disappeared with the files. This was the least they could do, besides it would also put Ron’s mind at ease, he was particularly spooked today, especially after hearing his brief tale about Gregorovitch’s death at lunch.

Hermione stood near Ron and said reassuringly, “Everything will be fine.”

Ron said nothing to her, he just gave a half-hearted shrug and sat down on his bed. Ron’s apparent discontent oozed out of him without a word.

“Cheer up, mate.” He added to try and ease the mind of his best friend.

The redhead slanted back and laid down on the bed as he kept staring at the ceiling, “Sure.” The redhead replied distractedly.

He noticed that hint of mocking disbelief in the tone which infuriated him. He couldn’t understand what Ron’s problem was, and the redhead was making no effort to hide his bad mood.

He understood that Ron had not been happy about Arthur and Percy being questioned under Veritaserum, and frankly he didn’t blame him for that, he would have been just as irate if in his place. Then again, he was also under the impression that Ron understood that going into the Ministry was a risk, one which would have direct or indirect consequences. While he was aware that it was personal to his best friend, his constant bad mood wasn’t helping anyone. He understood that he had been injured, but that was ten days ago, they had moved thrice since then, what did he have to do to make him be less of a prat?

So far, he was stalled in a position where he knew that an argument was warranted so that Ron can at least speak his mind and get his frustrations off his chest, which was in his mind the last resort tactic in itself. However, he couldn’t say anything because Hermione was very verbal about wanting him to take it easy on him.

Harry quietly stood up and went to the tent flap as he kept his rising ire in check, “I’ll take first watch.” He said calmly as he left, mindfully ignoring that faint scoff he heard behind him.

He didn’t understand the problem. He had talked to him and he still couldn’t understand it. Frankly, he was beyond wanting to understand it. He had too many things on his plate already, he didn’t care if Ron didn’t wish to talk to him about whatever it was that was bothering him. He just hoped that whatever it was, Hermione would talk some sense into him and fix it.

They were camped out near Abergele. They were quite close to the sea; he could always feel the slight taste of salt in the wind and strangely he liked it. As much as he hated being on the run, he loved the scenic route they took when they camped. It was one of those little moments of levity. He had even given Mad-Eye’s eye a small burial under a tree in a pasture. It wasn’t much, but this was the least he could do, and he was fairly sure that Mad-Eye would have preferred it over his body being taken by the Ministry.

They also considered making a trip to London in search of Wool’s Orphanage, Riddle’s childhood home. However, their mobility was compromised thanks to the roaming Dementors everywhere, besides he was fairly certain that Riddle wouldn’t leave a Horcrux there.

“If I were the one making the Horcrux, I wouldn’t hide it on Privet Drive, a place that I’d loathe going back to.” He had told them. So, that plan was on hold at the moment.

He had also tried to make a case for Hogwarts being a possible hiding place, but he was voted down two to one.

The days were already beginning to blur, it was very hard to tell the difference between one day and the next, especially considering the 8-hour rotating shift between the three of them.

He loved taking the night watch, it was quieter and he loved the stillness in a way he had never enjoyed before, it reminded him of the Astral World. But he didn’t like sitting in one place for long, which kept him walking around the tent back and forth in circles. And it gave him time to practice his spells.

He levitated the round pebble he had taken from the river near their last camp in his hand. A small fire burned around the pebble, giving it an eerie glow. He levitated it without looking at it. Smooth rocks were easier to levitate than coarse ones, but it was a challenge doing it blindly, to feel the weight of the pebble when levitating it wandlessly rather than seeing it, and a fire spell on top of that, even more so. But it was becoming easier every day.

After so many lessons, he was finally starting to get the nature of magic. The intent of magic was more important than everything, more than the pronunciation of the spell, more than the wand movement. But to truly harness the power of intent, the user needed to feel, but feel in balance. Too much emotion led to too much intent which achieved nothing, magical control went haywire much like accidental magic. And too little also achieved nothing, because that didn’t have enough will to do even the simplest of spells. What he needed was pure emotion but under full voluntary control. But that was easier said than done, which is why he was rigorously practising it every day.

As he walked around the tent while practising his wandless magic, he deliberately tried to distract himself by multitasking. He pulled out and looked at the now repaired pocket watch. The watch he had taken from Runcorn, the one with the chain he had used to bash in that Death Eater’s skull at King’s Cross. The pocket watch did not tell time, it was magical. The watch had four triangular marks where the twelfth, ninth, sixth, and third positions would be. When conversations happened, the pocket watch became useful.

The pocket watch was a truth-telling device, disguised to look like a pocket watch. He supposed that Runcorn most likely used it during interrogations to discern the truth over the lies. On the twelfth position at the top was the word ‘Truth’ glowed in cursive gold letters during a conversation. On the sixth at the bottom was the word, ‘Untruth’. At three o’clock was the word, ‘Bias’. And on the ninth was the word, ‘Impartial’.

He hadn’t told Hermione or Ron about the watch yet. As much as it ate him, he didn’t feel like telling them. He was often more intuitive than he was conscious, and he was amending that by trying to do both equally, but this time his feeling won. Since the last two camps, he has been noticing Hermione and Ron huddled up together and whispering in the tent when he wasn’t around. But whenever he entered the tent, the whispered conversations would abruptly stop, and if he asked what they were talking about, they would lie to him. The pocket watch confirmed that they lied. It hurt. More than he thought it would, sometimes it even grated on his nerves, but he kept his mouth firmly shut. They had their secrets, and he had his own, that was the reality and that was the way it should be. These days, he spent most of his waking hours outside the tent than in it, he preferred giving them the privacy they wanted.

If they didn’t want to let him in on the conversations then he didn’t want to know. A part of him screamed that his two best friends were talking about him behind his back, but there was little that he could do about it without picking a fight.

He circled the tent slowly, “Trk!” He heard a noise.

Harry stopped in his tracks and he turned to where he heard the noise with his wand at the ready. “Specto…” He muttered and his glasses blurred on the outside as if the glass had fogged. His vision however zoomed instantly, moving past the shimmering barrier at fifty yards that protected their tent, penetrating through the trees and darkness of the night to that moving target out in the woods.

He eased when he saw the clear image of a deer running away into the night, spooked by something. He kept looking for a few more moments in all directions. He saw nothing. He blinked twice and the spell deactivated, the fog on his glasses cleared and his vision returned to normal.

The spells were a final courtesy from Mad-Eye. Hermione had decoded the spells on Mad-Eye's eye and had transcribed it into his specs and hers. It was bloody useful at night. Especially when looking at the abundance of stars in the night sky, it was like looking at the vast expanse through the telescope like in their Astronomy classes without needing to squint his eyes. He has never enjoyed it more than he did now.

He continued walking again as he started levitating the pebble again and came to the flap just in time to see Hermione exiting it with a plate in hand. She wasn’t wearing the glasses, which was a shame. Sometimes, she wore her glasses when reading, but it made Ron a little uncomfortable, so she often chose not to. He had long since decided that he shouldn’t have an opinion on what they did, after all, it meant little to him.

She noticed him and turned to him, holding out the plate that had a sandwich on it, “Here.”

He strode towards her and took it, “Thank you.”

“We’re running out of supplies.” She spoke.

After a moment, he gave a nod, “I’ll make a run to the town tomorrow. I think we have enough till then.” Since he was in charge of funds, he supposed that the shopping duty fell to him.

“We do,” She gave a short nod, “Here’s the list of what we need.” She handed him a small piece of folded paper. He took it and checked the list of things they needed and then gave another impassive nod.

“I’ll get it.” He said distractedly before he looked up at her, she was looking at something in his hand. He followed her gaze to the pocket watch that was hanging by the chain around his fingers.

Hermione saw him see her look at the watch, “Is that –?”

“…”

“Give it to me.” She spoke firmly as she held out her hand.

She must have been surprised by that affronted look he had as he pocketed the watch along with the list, “It’s fine.” He replied dismissively.

“I said, give it to me.” She insisted, but he simply turned around and strode away without a word.

“Harry, wait. We never talked about it,” He heard her say close behind him as he took a bite of the sandwich, “…what happened at King’s Cross.” She clarified.

He winced a little as he continued to chew, he waited for a few moments as he swallowed before he replied again, “There is nothing to talk about.”

“Of course, there is!”

“No, there isn’t,” His voice remained calm as he took another bite of the sandwich hoping that she would just let it go.

He should have known her better than that because she circled to his side. At first glance, Hermione looked like she was panicking, like she was trying to understand him, which was easier said than done.

“Harry, please denial is –”

He swallowed and interrupted her at that point, “Please leave…,” He sighed, “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

She looked like he had struck her, before her features morphed into a restrained form of rage, “Why not? Is it because I’m a girl?!”

“No,” He shrugged irately, “Because you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She clearly wanted to say something, but stopped herself for a moment before she shot back, “Then help me understand.” She challenged.

“…”

He said nothing, which only seemed to irritate her, “I know you’re hurt, Harry. I know you’re going through something. You’ve been awfully distant this past week. I think you should talk about this. Staying in denial won’t help.”

He continued walking and only stopped when she stopped following him. He was expecting her to walk away, but she remained still. They stood there in silence for a few long minutes, but he simply kept chewing the food which felt entirely tasteless and unsatisfying from moments before. He had half a mind to tell her to go check on Ron, but it felt petty to say it, so he kept quiet.

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me.” She broke the silence as she folded her arms.

“Fine then, I’ll walk away,” He began as he circled the tent.

“You cannot keep walking away!” She called out, “And you can’t stay in denial forever. Not about this, not about anything.”

He stopped in his tracks for a second. It was her birthday; he didn’t want to ruin it. And he knew in his heart that he was going to regret what he was going to say next, but he said it anyway. He half wanted Ron to come out and put an end to this before it happened, but Ron never came.

“Okay, let’s talk… I’m not in denial.” Harry’s words were sharp like the crack of a whip.

“I’m way past all that,” He continued, “I’ve accepted it. What I am. What I’ve done. What I could do.”

He turned around to face her, “People die. Sometimes for no reason. And we will too, one day. What happened was bound to happen because we’re at war!”

He watched her flinch at his near growl.

“You can’t know unless it happens to you. What it’s like to take a life, even by accident. You don’t feel like yourself anymore. You don’t think like yourself anymore. Enough time passes and suddenly one day you wake up wondering – and you reckon that it was you all along. You just didn’t know it.”

“You just didn’t know what you were capable of.” He shook his head forcefully as he mumbled to himself.

At some point, he started staring off into space, “We’re born capable of great evil, the values we believe are what keeps us civilised. Still, you’ll never know what you can do until the right circ*mstance comes along.” He stared at her, “Like throwing a Cruciatus at the witch who killed your godfather, like forcibly feeding poison to your headmaster in a cave for a locket, like punching at a man’s skull with the full intent of killing him at that moment. You never think you can do all that when going in. But it happened. And, I did it. I was capable of that, and I’ve accepted that.” He paused at her stillness, “So, don’t talk to me about this – like you can understand. Because I don’t want to talk about it, ever again!”

“Do you understand?!” He gritted out without even realising it.

Hermione said nothing to him, she just stared at him in a mixture of shock and disgust. He saw the features on her flicker for an instant. She wiped away a tear on her cheek with the back of her hand and walked back to the tent and disappeared inside as though she was so disappointed in him.

And he instantly felt the guilt tugging at his heart, along with all that rage in his blood. He had made her cry on her birthday, and he hated himself for it, but the rage he was feeling kept justifying his rant. Conflicted as he was, he threw the plate with the half-eaten sandwich and started kicking the nearby rock repeatedly and vented it all out.

Next Morning –

The night had gone by relatively slowly, and it was now morning again. It was Ron’s turn to cook breakfast today, and he had made them omelettes and toast with tea.

As Ron left the tent for his shift, she heard Ron and Harry arguing outside the tent, while she tried her best to concentrate on the book Dumbledore had left her. Her curiosity kept getting the better of her as she listened.

“I don’t bloody care!” She could hear Ron’s mild voice in the distance, “I don’t care who started it, just go in there and fix it.”

“Fine!” She heard Harry’s snappish voice in response.

That was followed by silence. She kept thinking that Harry would walk inside any moment, but nobody came. Disappointed, she went back to reading, her mind swirling with questions elsewhere.

“Pacing around the tent won’t solve anything.” Ron’s voice echoed from even farther away.

Harry’s voice was close by, “Will you shut up? I’m trying to think.”

She almost smiled thinking of an image of him anxiously walking around the tent, ‘Serves him right.’ She thought to herself.

“You know, you could be helping.” Harry’s irritated voice added.

She couldn’t hear what Ron said next, but she did catch his faint voice saying something along the lines of, “I suffered last night, so it’s your turn.” The only word she could make out definitively was ‘suffered’.

That made her huff. While, yes, she had been mad about her argument with Harry, she had been careful not to take it out on Ron and make his bad mood worse. All she had done was ignore him and snapped at him once this morning. That was self-restraint on her part. So, she couldn’t understand what Ron meant when he said that he had suffered. Was she that insufferable? An insult nearly every bully and everyone mean to her had used in school from girls like Cho, Pansy, and Lavender, to Malfoy, to Snape.

“To hell with him.” She mused to herself, irritated.

The door flap finally moved and Harry gingerly walked inside. She ignored him and kept her eyes rooted on the book, pretending to read. Harry’s footstep stopped abruptly for a second, prompting her to look up, only to see him staring at her with wide eyes. He shook his head as if he was clearing his mind and pulled his money bag out, refusing to look at her.

Hermione couldn’t help but drop that grim look on her face when she realised that his shock was due to her wearing the glasses. She didn’t wear it very often, but she did test it out and noticed Harry’s reaction whenever she did wear it. She often got that deer in the headlights look from Harry whenever she wore her specs. She had to make a conscious effort not to pull on that thread. She didn’t want to ponder on ‘why’ she got that sort of reaction from him whenever she wore them. But despite her best efforts, it did make something flutter inside, which she either carefully overlooked, or completely suppressed.

She distracted herself with her book. She heard footsteps come closer and she was surprised when Harry placed an old black tome with yellowish pages on the table and pushed it across to her. The tome had a blue bow on it with a small happy birthday card.

“It’s your birthday present. I’m sorry I didn’t give it to you yesterday. I…um…uh forgot.”

She knew better than to believe what he said, and she was sure that even he knew that it was an awful excuse. This was like the second year all over again.

In their second year, Harry had gotten her a birthday gift ahead of time, but Ron had forgotten. To not embarrass Ron, Harry hadn’t given her the gift on her birthday and had pretended as if he had forgotten it as well. He then subtly slipped the gift into her bag two days later with a short quickly scrawled note hastily attached to it. Even though there was no name on the note, Harry’s messy handwriting left little to the imagination, the message itself had been, ‘Sorry, I forgot to give it to you. Happy Birthday.’ She only knew that Harry had gotten her the gift ahead of time because she had seen him purchase and gift-wrap it in Diagon Alley. She had never asked him about it, and he never said anything, but she did keep that book of spells with her until their OWLs.

After that, she knew that Harry and Ron always went away during school shopping at Diagon Alley to get her a present, or they ordered it via mail to the school during the first two weeks.

Yesterday was her birthday. Ron had gotten her some flowers he had conjured himself which was sweet. While she hadn’t expected much since they were at war and their ability to move about and purchase gifts was limited and out of the question, she had hoped that at least one of them had thought of it ahead of time. All she had gotten from Harry was a happy birthday wish and not even a hug.

The tome in front of her made her smile. Harry hadn’t forgotten, he just hadn’t given it to her, likely to prevent embarrassing Ron. Now, he was giving it to her as a peace offering. The tome looked old, very old, so it likely wasn’t a last-minute purchase.

Closing her book, she slowly pulled the gift closer and undid the bow. The card just said, ‘Happy Birthday, Hermione’. Harry was never one to write too many words on cards. A small smile threatened to erupt, but she clamped down on it.

During her time at Hogwarts, she has had to translate many rare books from different languages into English for homework references. Thanks to that, even at first glance, she recognised the archaic German text.

“Der grossen Wundartzney…” She read softly. Curious, she flipped through the pages and pretty soon, she was goggling at the book in front of her, “Harry, do you know what this is?”

“Yeah…” Harry looked relieved as he replied, “One of Paracelsus’s texts. Volume one, I think.”

“Harry, this is not some copy, this looks like the original tome. If I’m right, collectors would be willing to pay a small fortune for it. Where did you get it? Please tell me you didn’t buy this for me.” Her heart was beating in her throat.

“No, I didn’t buy it.” She sighed in relief as Harry shrugged his shoulders a little, “It was in my family vault.”

Her eyes went wide once again, “Oh.” Her eyes fell to the book again, she flipped it to the last page and saw the Potter family crest on it, “So, this is a family heirloom?” She asked quietly.

As if he had read her mind, he shook his head, “Don’t worry, you can keep it. It’s yours now, I’d rather you have it and make good use of it than it collecting dust in my vault.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. She didn’t want to keep it, because it felt like she was stealing something priceless from someone who didn’t know its value. But, on the other hand, she really wanted to study it. Her love for books would never diminish and Harry knew that about her. It also wasn’t lost on her that Harry had gotten this on his trip to Diagon Alley on Bill and Fleur’s wedding day.

He sat down on the chair opposite her and leaned his back against it.

She took it in her hand and felt the weight of it. Holding it against her chest, she said, “Thank you.” He just nodded in return.

“I’m sorry about last night.” He sighed once he said it.

“Harr-”

He interrupted her, “Let me finish. I want you to know.”

“Know what?” Her tone echoed cautiously.

“Know that –” He hesitated for a second.

“I’m going to kill him.”

Silence fell upon them in the tent. She felt her eyes widening slowly. She stared at him in shock, while Harry just looked more resolved than ever. There was another bout of silence between them. She had so many questions, but not the voice to ask them. He stared back at her and then gulped once before saying.

“I’m going to kill, Riddle.” He repeated to her and it made her swallow a lump in her throat.

“Even if it means that I have to take him with me to the grave. I’m ready to do that.” Her eyes watered hearing him say that with such conviction, “I’ll bloody well make sure of it. This war must end, no one will be safe until Riddle is gone.”

Her eyes wandered all over him, looking for signs of doubt maybe cracks, but she could find none, “My purpose ends with him.” He looked her dead in the eyes as he uttered it.

‘Purpose…?’ Her mind was jumbled at that word.

For over a month now, she had been trying to understand Dumbledore’s thought process to try and decode the message in the book. Ron himself was worried about the progress of their mission because it was clear to them that Dumbledore hadn’t shared many details with Harry beyond the bare minimum. To a degree, she agreed with Ron. And it vexed her.

Now, it became clear to her, like a puzzle it all slowly started falling into place, and the truth spun in her head. In her moment of delirium, she realized it. The person sitting in front of her wasn’t her best friend Harry anymore, he was a weapon. Shaped and sharpened his whole life for the sole purpose of ending Voldemort.

“…like forcibly feeding poison to your headmaster in a cave for a locket… You never think you can do all that when going in. But it happened. And, I did it…”

Harry’s words from last night echoed in her mind. She saw it, and at long last, it became clear to her why Dumbledore had taken Harry to that cave. A question that Professor McGonagall had asked him not too long ago, a question that had plagued her ever since she had heard Kreacher’s tale about Regulus and the locket. One by one, all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, and everything made sense. The great wizard that she had admired so much, she couldn’t believe it, she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to think that Albus Dumbledore had manipulated Harry and had moulded him into a perfect self-sacrificing soldier, a sacrificial piece so to speak.

When she had pondered all of this and asked him once before, Harry had derailed her with his optimism. But it stood clear to her now. She could see it in her eyes. Harry was aware of what was happening, what Dumbledore had done to him, there was no confusion in his eyes, just resolve. It is in his nature to care for others, so he was going through with the plan regardless even if he knew that it would cost him his life. He was resolved to end it all if it meant ending the war, ending Voldemort.

Unaware of her epiphany, Harry went on, “I know what you’re going to say, but you know what the prophecy says, it’s either me or him, Hermione. It will undoubtedly come down to that, so I have to be ready. Hopefully, we’ll stop him without – but if not, I’ll make sure that he’s stopped. Riddle has to be stopped. And I’m ready to do what needs to be done.”

“That’s why I don’t want to talk about it. Any of it. This is not something that we should be second guessing.”

The chair moved back and he made an effort to stand, “Take some time. I hope you understand.”

She felt herself going numb. Harry stood up still unaware of her thoughts, “I’m sorry about last night.” He sighed as he walked out of the tent.

Her eyes fell to the book on the table, the Tales of Beedle the Bard that Dumbledore had left for her in his will. Coded with some sort of messages in it. Dropping Harry’s gift which she had been holding against her chest all this time, in one move, she picked up the children’s book and threw it to the other end of the tent in anger, as she breathed hard.

All she could do was lean against the table, holding her head in her hands and try not to break down in tears.

Hermione watched it all implode in front of her. Ron grasped what Harry had told her, and it was all falling apart.

She had lost her voice in this tinderbox.

“I thought you knew what you’d signed up for,” Harry said as his calm voice reverberated the anger in him.

“Yeah, I thought I did too. But this is not what we signed up for.” Ron’s demeanour was growing increasingly hostile by the minute, “I’m not dying for this, and neither is she!”

Harry took a calming breath, “I never said – I’m not planning on any of us dying.”

Ron grimaced at that, “No, but you’re expecting us to be prepared like you are, innit?”

“No, Ron,” Harry’s words turned forceful, “…I never said that. And I didn’t mean that. You know I didn’t… You know the prophecy as I do.”

The redhead’s ire grew, “I don’t care about the bloody prophecy! I don’t know what you’re thinking! How would I? When you’re here preparing to die. Then again, what do you care? You’ve got no one to worry about!”

“Ron, shut up!” She snapped at him because that was over the line. She saw Harry clench his fists and glare at Ron with deep disdain.

She immediately made an excuse, trying to diffuse the tension, “Harry, he’s just – frustrated. Don’t –”

“Bloody yeah, I’m frustrated. I just hoped, after we’d been running round a few weeks, we’d have achieved something!” Ron was already shouting.

“We have achieved something. We have the locket.” Harry wasn’t exactly trying to reason, but his cold gaze screamed ‘murder’, she preferred to have him shouting like Ron over this.

Ron let out a dry laugh and then all but shouted, “Yeah, we have the locket! But what use is it? We don’t know where any of the rest are and we don’t know how to destroy them! We thought you knew what you were doing!”

Harry was gritting his teeth, his glare intensified, and she could feel his magic oozing out of him. Ron kept shouting, “We thought Dumbledore had told you what to do, thought you had a real plan! We thought he had trained you!”

Ron threw his hands and shouted louder, “But now I know, your only plan is to fight until you die trying and get us all killed along with you! Because the mission is the only thing that’s important to you! Not me! Not her! The mission!”

“I’ve been straight with you from the start, I told you everything Dumbledore told me. And you know that this mission is not the only thing on my mind. I do care about you both.” Harry glared back, but a shadow of doubt flickered across his eyes, “Is this how you feel too?” His gaze met hers as he asked her.

“Harry – I don’t –”

“Do you think I haven’t noticed the two of you whispering behind my back? Do you think I didn’t guess you were thinking this stuff?” Harry accused as he pulled out the pocket watch and flipped open the metal cover.

“Harry we weren’t—”

“Don’t lie!” Ron snapped back his neck in a half-turn and hurled at her, “…you said it too, you said you were disappointed, you said you’d thought he had a bit more to go on than—”

“I didn’t say it like that – Harry, I didn’t!”

They had discussed it. She and Harry had discussed it. She knew they were unprepared and Harry had agreed with her on it. What she had said to Ron was a conflict between her stress and their confused indecision.

A pained expression passed over Harry’s face, which he clamped down by force as he looked down into the pocket watch in his hand with great difficulty. Whatever he saw, it hurt him because he turned around and walked, grazing both his hands into his hair, dropping the watch on the floor in the process. She felt a pang of deep guilt like a knife to the pit of her stomach.

Before Ron could pick it up, she walked over and took the watch. In it, the words were glowing in golden yellow, ‘Untruth’ and ‘Bias’, the needle kept wobbling in the middle between them back and forth, not resting anywhere in between. Her eyes widened as she realised what the watch was, it was a lie detector. And according to this, her words had just meant that she wasn’t being entirely truthful.

Before she could ponder anymore, Ron plucked it off her hand and saw it for himself. Ron went red in rage, his skin matching the colour of his hair, “You’ve been using this on us?!”

“YES!” Harry shouted and she flinched, he looked furious.

Taking a few huffs of calming breaths, Harry gritted, “My friends, my best friends, the two people I trusted the most cannot seem to do the courtesy of being straight with me like I’ve done to them.”

“Harry please, it’s not like that,” She cried, “I was just – just…wished we had more to go on. That’s all – that’s –”

“Don’t lie. Just stop. T-the proof is in your hand. Just don’t…” Harry stuttered manically.

“Don’t you start on her!” Ron shot back, “Harry I’m-so-Noble Potter doesn’t lie. Except you do. How many times have you seen you-know-who in your visions that you haven’t told us about? Huh? What if one day he possessed you again, what then? What if you can’t fight him off? You say you care about us, but you don’t!”

Ron threw the watch to the ground and stepped forward, “Don’t think I don’t remember what you said to Remus. What was it you said? Dumbledore included us? We didn’t have a choice but to be involved? No, you included us. Dumbledore told it to you, and only you. But you involved us in this, and you don’t even know what the hell you’re doing. Dumbledore wouldn’t have included us into his will if you had kept it all to yourself! This is all your fault!”

“Ron!” She snapped harshly, but they both ignored her.

“Yes, I included you two. But you both agreed to help me,” Harry clenched his fist, his eyes boring holes in Ron’s, “I also remember telling Remus that if you two wanted to stop then it was up to you, that I won’t stop you.”

Ron gave a nasty smirk, “You’d want that, don’t you? Blame it all on us for stopping the mission.”

“I don’t believe it,” Harry let out a pained laugh, covering half his mouth with a nervous shiver of his hand, “You know what? Mum was right about you all along. I defended you, but she was right. She told me to get away from you. I didn’t listen. It’s my fault that I didn’t listen.”

“Well, you can shove your dead mum’s –”

“Ron!” Her voice was so hard that it shattered Ron’s retort in time, but it was already too late.

It was just like when Harry had rained blows on Malfoy for insulting his mother back in their fifth year. Ron went sprawling to the floor holding his jaw in the blink of an eye, as Harry pulled back his arm aiming for another one. Ron grabbed the arm, but Harry was already on top kneeing Ron in the stomach with his weight, making him yelp in pain.

She ran to the table for her wand as they both wrestled. By the time she took it and turned, Harry had punched Ron in the face once again and was aiming another one, while Ron was trying to choke Harry’s neck while pushing Harry’s arm away. Her knockback hex flew wordlessly, and landed on his chest, throwing Harry back to the floor as he skidded. Ron took that as an opportunity to stumble up to his feet in a hurry and jump on Harry, but she placed a shield in between them. Ron ran into the transparent barrier and fell over backwards stumbling at his feet with a groan.

Silence. Dead silence fell in the tent. She naively hoped the storm was over, but she was wrong. Harry sat up on the floor.

Ron stood up, dusting off his pants as he massaged his jaw, bruises were already becoming visible, “You’d not care what happens to your life, but we do about ours. And we’re not throwing our lives away for you, or this mission.”

“Ron, stop!” She finally screamed, “It’s not like that, he’s not – Dumbledore’s the one who’s at fault.”

Ron gaped at her like she was mad, “You’re taking his side?!”

“No, you don’t understand!” She tried to explain, but he cut her off.

“I don’t bloody care!” Ron shouted back at her, “Bill’s scarred, George’s lost his ear, Percy and my dad were tortured for our stunt at the Ministry. Ginny’s in Hogwarts probably suffering under Snape. We’ve given up more for Dumbledore and him than anyone, and he doesn’t care about them or us. Now he wants us to give up our lives for this as well.”

“Ron – p-please listen –”

Ron’s eyes narrowed again, angry that she was trying to defend Harry, “It’s all right for you two, isn’t it, with your parents safely out of the way –”

She, at last, wailed, “I-I had to send t-them away!”

Harry’s voice came swiftly yet calmly, mingled with her cries, “Get – out!”

“FINE!”

Ron hurried to his bed, packing a bag that already looked full, “Pack your things.” He barked at her as she stood frozen. Seeing her freeze, Ron instead just went to her bed and took her purse and came to her. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her with him to the door.

Something was broken between them. She felt it, and she knew that it was broken between Harry as well. A corrosive mixture of hatred, resentment and pain bubbling at the surface, unspoken but evident.

She used her weight to stop herself from letting her be pulled. Ron pulled her again, but she wouldn’t budge. When he gave her that accusing look, she shook her head while crying harder. Ron’s features twisted to one of shock, then to disgust.

“We’d said w-we’d go with Harry; we’d said we’d h-help…” She tried to reason with him one last time, although she didn’t know it would be the last time.

“I get it. You choose him.” Ron gritted out as he replied.

Letting go of her hand, Ron sneered at her, one which she would never forget, “He’s never cared about you. And he never will. Not like me, and still, you choose him?!”

“I-it’s not like that.”

“Didn’t think I’d notice you wearing those glasses and smiling at him, did you?” Ron’s eyes burning, convinced of her betrayal.

She felt the world spin, “Ron, it’s –”

“Fine, stay then, see if I care…”

Without another word, Ron turned and walked out. It was only as she stepped out, did she realise that it had been raining the whole time.

“Ron, no—please—come back, come back!”

There was no reasoning with him, not an ounce of understanding. She didn’t know how many times she called out for him to come back, but it was all for nought because he was gone. She didn’t even know when Harry came out and pulled her out of the rain and back into the tent. Yet she sat on the floor against the foot of her bed, drenched and shivering in the cold.

Time passed and soon enough her eyes grew heavy, the last thing she remembered as she drifted off was crying into her bed as Harry draped blankets over her and disappeared from her purview.

Chapter 11: Clarity

Chapter Text

September 26^th –

It was late into the night. She could hear the insects chirping beyond the thick fabric that separated her from the world outside. The lamps inside the tent were glowing in an uncanny shade of yellow, which was strangely comforting, as it reminded her of the late nights on the couch in the Gryffindor common room with her best friends.

Tonight, was the sixth night. Ron’s absence was keenly felt. They had waited two days, hoping that he would change his mind and come back. She didn’t know if Harry had even wanted it, but she had waited, and he hadn’t objected. Before the second night, they had moved, without a word between them. Harry had done most of the work, he had found her purse in the forest where Ron had dropped it before leaving, he had packed the tent, then apparated them, placed the wards and then reset the tent. All the while, she suffered in silence.

That was four days ago and she was still in bed. The pain had numbed, and the guilt had slowly dripped and lessened. She couldn’t justify staying in bed, not anymore. Pulling herself out of bed, she proceeded to the shower. She gave one last look at her bed before she entered. She stood under the shower and felt the water touch her skin and roll down. The warm water helped wash away the grime, oil, and mud, soothing her aching muscles and making her feel alive again.

She took her time to braid her hair before she stepped out and headed to the kitchen. There was some porridge, enough for just one person. She took the nearby spoon, washed it lightly and tasted the porridge. It was too bland. Opening the shelf, she paused for a moment, because the shelves were full. Harry must have gone shopping and restocked supplies while she was in bed. Feeling grateful, she added some brown sugar and found a green apple which she sliced into wedges. It made all the difference.

For the next ten minutes, she ate the meal in silence, wondering where Harry was, probably outside guarding the tent. When she finished, she washed the bowl and paused. She wanted to talk to him, but couldn’t bring herself to go outside and face him. The anxiety was killing her. She had gotten used to the silence and now going out to meet him felt like a task. Struggling with a choice, she decided to wait until he came back inside.

“Tempus,” She waved her wand and the time appeared in yellow letters.

It was eight minutes after eleven o’clock. It was already late, but she didn’t feel like going back to bed. Harry was bound to come back inside at some point, even if it was for some water. As such, she found her purse on the desk beside her bed and fished for a book at random. Harry’s birthday gift came into sight, she closed her eyes for a second and decided against it. She took a book on chemistry, anything to take her mind off. She decided to explore her idea of corrosive acids to perhaps destroy the locket. Pretty soon, she was seated on her bed, wrapped up in blankets as she continued reading.

Time went by slowly. Her anxiety faded as it grew late into the night. It became obvious that Harry wasn’t coming back inside anytime soon. Thankful for the distraction, she grew engrossed in the book as the hours flew by like it was minutes.

Her concentration was broken only when she heard a noise outside. Something odd at this time of night. Her body went into full alert when she determined the noise was a voice, a woman’s voice. She almost stumbled into the floor as she hurried off the bed, the blankets restricted her. Pulling off the blanket, she ran to the door flaps pulling out her wand. A blue light shimmered through the flaps.

She pushed the fabric aside and almost jumped out, only to flinch at the light. The voice echoed from the light, “…end – a Patronus. ASAP…”

Her confusion grew until the voice repeated from the light, “Harry, what’s happened between you three? Bill just came by the house in secret, looking for Remus. Ron’s arrived at Shell Cottage. What’s going on? Send me a Patronus. ASAP.”

She recognised the voice as the message repeated. It was Tonks’s, and her Patronus. As the Patronus disappeared, the message registered and it broke her heart.

Any hope of Ron coming to his senses and returning to her evaporated in that instant. A few days ago, she would have broken down in tears, but now, numbed as she was, all she felt was a sense of imbalance and unease. And her unease was just that jarring. As Tonks’s non-corporeal Patronus vanished and the blue light disappeared, she saw Harry standing in the distance by a tree, he was staring off into space.

She didn’t know when she spaced off herself, but her inattention broke when a shimmering blue sphere of light lit the forest once again, which morphed into the Stag that was Harry’s. She saw the Patronus bounce off into the air and fly away at the swift whip of Harry’s wand. He then walked up to her, staring at her with a grim look on his face.

“He’s gone…” She whispered, not to him, but more to herself.

“…” The silence that followed was palpable.

“We can go pick him up – if…if you want to…” He slowly said it sounding so hesitant with a hint of disbelief, almost as if even he couldn’t believe the words he was saying.

She wanted to nod, she wanted to say ‘yes’. And she knew that if she agreed that Harry would do it. The temptation was hard to resist. But her self-respect kept her in check. She couldn’t ignore the fact that Harry was only saying it for her sake.

She remembered the words Ron had said before he left her, “He’s never cared about you. And he never will.” It echoed in her ears as though he had spoken it just moments before.

The fact that he was willing to go and make amends with Ron for her sake, that alone was proof that he cared enough to put his ego aside. For the last few days, her psyche was telling her that he was the only one who cared for her in the beginning, cared enough to come looking for her amidst the fear of a looming troll, and cared enough to jump on its back in her defence. She remembered the night their friendship had begun.

Also, the knowledge did not please her that if they went to him now, it would be like grovelling. A vengeful, vindictive part of her wanted to see Ron, just so she could hex him into oblivion before leaving him on her terms. But the rational brain told her to move on. Arguing that if he had cared as much as he claimed that he did, he wouldn’t have walked out on them in the first place. But more than that, she didn’t want to think about Ron anymore.

However, she had to ask, “Do you want to?”

He said nothing, he just looked at her and swallowed audibly. His eyes said everything she wanted to know. She would have missed it if she weren’t looking directly at him, very imperceptibly just for one second, he shook his head.

Frankly, it was a relief to know where he stood on the matter. And as much as she wanted to see Ron, she also didn’t want to see him. So, she shook her head as she answered, “No…”

She began slowly, “I-I don’t want to see him.” As soon as she said it, it felt freeing. It felt awfully like the first step forward into the future. A strange feeling of pride filled her heart.

Harry didn’t reply, he just looked away. She did notice when he started breathing easier again. That’s when she finally got a good look at him and not just at his tired eyes.

He was clothed in dark brown and black. He looked like a mess. Deep dark circles around his eyes, almost as if he hadn’t slept in ages. He looked dirty like he hadn’t washed in days. His dirty, unkept messy hair was even messier. He had a mean judgemental grimace permanently etched on his quickly-aged face, but it didn’t look like he was doing it on purpose.

“Harry…” She called his name and he blinked at her owlishly.

She didn’t know what came over her when she wrapped her arms around him one wide hug with all her might, but she felt good doing it. She just wanted him back to being himself again. In all their years in school, she knew Harry was never a big hugger. She waited until he hugged her back with one arm, it took a few seconds, but he slowly wrapped his arm around her as well, an awkward hug. They stayed like that until the hug became somewhat comfortable. They both needed it, more than ever.

She pulled back to take a proper look at him, in one word, he looked tired, “Have you slept at all?” She asked him.

He half-grimaced as he gave a slight nod, “I’m fine.” His voice had changed, deeper, thicker than hoarse, it felt colder as well, more impersonal. She couldn’t tell if it was different or if she was just imagining it. Did he always sound like that? She wondered to herself. For some reason, she couldn’t recall what he sounded like before.

“You should clean up.” She added as she stood up. He held her gaze for a moment longer before he nodded to that in resignation.

There was no resistance in him when she pulled him back inside, all the way to the bath, picking up the towel on her bed she nudged him inside with it. She went to his trunk by his bed and picked a pair of loose clothes for him and handed it to him. He stood there staring for a few minutes before he finally closed the door. Soon enough, she heard the water running inside. She quickly changed the sheets on his bed with a wave of her wand, figuring that he might want to rest, and waited for him to finish his shower. Pacing, she wondered how she had misjudged it. Things weren’t as broken between her and Harry as she had initially thought. There was certainly room to grow, but things weren’t as irreparable as she had feared.

When the door opened, she smiled, he looked clean, like he was her Harry again except for the matted hair. He still looked like he was ready to keel over, but at least, she hoped that he was feeling a bit better. It felt easy to help him now. There was no tension, no cold shoulders, or impassive stares.

He dried his hair with the towel as he went to the table to sit in the chair instead of going to the bed. It was obvious that he didn’t want to sleep. She went over and pulled up a chair to the side of the table. Silence prevailed, neither of them knowing how to start a conversation that they both knew they needed to have.

“Did you eat?” He asked her first.

She gave a nod, “Yeah,”

“You should get some sleep,” She offered, “I’ll keep watch tonight.”

“It’s alright,” Harry yawned tiredly, “I can’t sleep anyway.”

“I have some sleeping draught if you –”

Dropping the towel that he was drying his hair with into his lap, he shook his head, interrupting her, “It’s not that. I can’t keep my mind protected when I’m asleep. I don’t – want to go through another vision.”

The visions, it immediately came to that. His connection to Voldemort was another sore subject. As much as she often lectured him for not trying to learn Occulumency properly, even she couldn’t help but realise that there was more to this connection than it just being a Legilimency attack. She often got the feeling that he was using the wrong tool for the job. But she rarely made her decisions on gut instinct as he did. Perhaps, Occulumency isn’t what he should be practising. But this wasn’t the time for that kind of speculation.

She almost did not want to pull on the thread, but it was too important to push aside, “Did you have any other visions recently?” She asked, sounding a little concerned.

Unsurprisingly, he nodded, “Yesterday,” he yawned again, “…whatever it is that he’s looking for – whatever it was that he wanted from Gregorovitch. Vo – Riddle, is not happy. He killed someone else, a group of men, guards, of some official-looking building, there were some scrolls too…” He said it casually enough that it shocked her.

She couldn’t imagine someone seeing something like that and being unaffected. She sometimes wondered how he did it, to see everything and still be sane enough to fight. It explained a lot about his recent proclivity for indifference. It wasn’t like hearing it from someone, which was horrifying enough to her, but to see it through the eyes of a sick demented psychopath and feel everything that Riddle felt at that moment. There was no way it wouldn’t affect him. She understood Harry’s disassociation from horror, his desensitization to the idea of death, and his borderline-nihilistic thinking.

Hermione knew better than to question him about it. He wouldn’t want to talk about it. But there was something else that she could ask.

“Do you know what he’s looking for? Riddle, I mean.” She asked carefully because she had her suspicions.

He sighed before he replied, “Not for certain, but I’m positive that it’s a wand. A special one. It must be. Nothing else makes sense. He probably wants another wand that is not connected to mine, but one that would properly work against mine. To avoid repeating what happened when we fought that day the Order moved me.”

She couldn’t help but scoff at that. Harry kept insisting that his wand acted on its own and fought Voldemort off, but she had a hard time believing it. Maybe because it scared her to think that Harry wouldn’t be strong enough to fight Voldemort. Because that would mean the end of the world, the end of their mission, and the end of them.

“Harry, how many times do I have to tell you? You did that. Not your wand. You must believe in yourself.”

Harry scrunched his eyebrows at first and then relaxed, “There’s self-confidence, and there’s delusion. I know which is which. I’m confident in my powers, but I’m not delusional. That wasn’t me, my wand saved me. Believe what you want, but I know what the facts are. The Death Eaters took Ollivander for a reason. Riddle killed Gregorovitch for a reason. And I know in my gut, that I’m not wrong about this.”

She huffed a little, not wanting to retort and start an argument, “Fine!” She snapped at him. Harry merely shrugged his shoulders, unconcerned about her irritation.

This wand argument was just like the Astral world argument. She had a hard time believing that it happened. It easily could have been a hallucination on his part. But for all her rational arguments, there was a mystical element to this that even she couldn’t deny, not after witnessing all that have happened in their lives. Something otherworldly was going on that they didn’t know about, fate, destiny, whatever it was, she despised it. To her, it was nothing more than that fraud, Trelawney’s Seer powers, but her sensibilities also did not allow her to discount it either.

That line of thought got her thinking of her earlier epiphany about Harry. Did she want to do this? No. But she had to do it. She wanted to hear him say it. She wanted to know if he planned on dying at the end of this, if so, then why?

“We have to talk.” She said out of the blue.

He looked confused, “We are…”

She shook her head, “No, not this. I want to talk about something else. I know you said that you didn’t want to talk about it, but I do. And I think we should talk. Just this once. I won’t ask again. I promise.”

She half expected him to deny her. She prepared arguments and counterpoints in her head to try and sway him, but he surprised her.

“Fine – we can talk.”

She blinked at his quick agreement, “Are you sure?”

“…” He nodded blankly, although he certainly didn’t look thrilled about it.

“Why?” She asked sceptically.

He gave her a hint of a smirk, “You’re asking me why?”

“The last time we spoke, you were adamant…” She replied as though it was obvious, doubt very much evident in her tone.

“…” He sighed.

“That was a week ago. A lot’s happened since then, hasn’t it? And to be fair, I still don’t want to talk about it. But I can’t remember the last time I got what I wanted,” His eyes blazed at that, “…besides, I can’t sleep, and I’m too tired. I think this is the best time to have this conversation. Otherwise, I might not want to.”

She didn’t expect that. It made her feel guilty, but she understood what he was trying to say. It was his way of saying that he would rather talk about it and get it out of the way than letting it exacerbate any longer. And to some degree, she agreed with him. After what happened with Ron, they had to be much stronger together.

“But I have a condition. I get to ask you some questions first.” With that, he pulled out the dreaded pocket watch and placed it on the table with its metal cover open.

As much as she hated that watch, she had to suppress a smile, because she had been planning on asking him for it anyway, but now that he had brought it out himself, she wouldn’t have to demand it.

“Okay…”

As soon as she agreed, he pulled the wet towel over his shoulder on both sides, dropping it on the table in a lump and he sat up straight in the chair. The watch would tell him if she lied, that was a lot of pressure.

“…” Thinking for a moment, he looked her in the eye as she waited for his question.

“Do you resent me for sending Ron away?”

His question caught her off-guard. She hadn’t expected him to start that quickly or that bluntly, “No.” Her answer came out almost reflexively, which surprised even her.

His eyes automatically went to the watch, and so did hers. The needle wobbled unsteadily halfway between ‘Truth’ and ‘Bias’. It was eye-opening even to herself. Perhaps, she did resent him a little for the fight, even if she didn’t blame him. Some biases were unconscious and the watch picked up on them, even if she wasn’t conscious of it.

Harry didn’t seem affected by the truth, it felt almost as if he had expected it, but he did look a tad bit more relaxed. It only confused her more, “Do you resent me for – having to send your parents away? For including you into all of this…”

“No,” She almost felt insulted that he would ask her that, “Harry, please don’t think that. I did that for their safety, and in hindsight, it was the right thing to do. And I didn’t do it for the mission, or for your sake or mine, I did it for them.”

She looked at the watch the needle strictly pointed at the word ‘Truth’. Harry instead stared at her, gauging her.

“Be honest. Do you think we can do this mission?”

His question made her think, “Alone?” She asked.

He nodded at that before he clarified, “Mostly.”

She narrowed her eyes curiously at his reply but decided to ignore it for now.

“I don’t know,” She came clean, “I thought it was doable, but so far, we’ve underestimated this – and nothing we have gone through went according to plan. We had to improvise every step of the way. So, I can’t –” She paused as she chewed on her lips nervously, “I don’t know.”

Her eyes went to the pocket watch. The needle wobbled around ‘Truth’. She looked at Harry who stared at her as if he knew that she was telling the truth.

He reached over to the table and closed the lid on the watch and leaned back as he relaxed, “That’s good enough for me.”

She blinked twice this time, ‘That’s it?’ She wondered to herself. Were her feelings on their situation all that mattered to him? She almost wanted him to ask her more questions because she had so many of her own.

Not for the first time she wondered how the male brain functioned because it was very confusing to her. He obviously had trust issues with her, which seemed both fair and unfair under the circ*mstances, but he didn’t want to ask her questions regarding it. Was her loyalty all that he cared about?

And then it dawned on her. Her mind wandered back to their broomstick argument, years ago, which too had been about loyalty. He was ultimately mad because she went behind his back to report it even if she had done it out of good intentions, not because McGonagall had taken the broom away, that part had been because of Ron. How could she have forgotten it? In the end, that was all he expected from anyone. Loyalty, and the respect that came with it.

He watched her prepare her questions for him. He had no idea what she was planning on asking him. If he knew Hermione, she would ask him the unexpected. During exam preparations, she would often quiz him and Ron, every time asking the least expected questions. It brought back memories, which quickly soured his expression.

However, this moment felt inevitable.

He saw her almost shoving the notes in her hand frustrated as she took a calming breath. Their eyes locked a moment later. He held the gaze until she asked picking up the pocket watch from the table, holding it in her palm close to her heart.

“Will you answer all my questions truthfully?” She asked him.

He closed his eyes with a nod, “I’ll try.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but she accepted it begrudgingly. Almost as if she was steeling herself, she asked, “Harry – why did Dumbledore take you to the cave?”

His eyes went to the pocket watch, and he sighed. He had thought that he had derailed her that day after Remus came to Grimmauld Place. He should have known better than that. If anything, she was the epitome of curiosity.

“I honestly don’t know what Dumbledore was thinking.” He instinctively tried to side-step the question.

She didn’t look fazed, “Then why do you think he took you?”

He stared at her for a moment, digesting the idea of coming clean to her. He had planned on telling her one day, just not this soon. He weighed his options for a few moments. Making a snap decision, he decided to tell the truth, “I think he wanted me to owe him.”

“Owe him? Why?” Her tone told him everything he wanted to know. She was curious but way too calm for her to not have a clear idea in her mind.

“Something tells me, you already know why.” He gazed at her with mild interest.

Hermione stared at him, as if it dawned on her, “This mission?” She softly whispered.

He nodded to her as she continued, “He was expecting us to abandon this mission, wasn’t he? So, he made you feel guilty, made you feel like you owed him, in a sense to force you to see it through to the end, and by extension all of us with you.”

Her conclusion was spot on. He had arrived at the same conclusion after much pondering, after many hours of peeling all the layers of his preconceived notions about Dumbledore.

Hermione spaced off for a moment and then suddenly looked at him as if he was mad, “Why would he do that?!” Her outrage was evident in her tone.

He could only sigh, “Because the mission is nigh impossible.” He said half-heartedly.

Hermione frowned instantly and looked at the watch and then almost sneered at him, “Don’t lie to me, Harry! Why did he not trust us? No…why didn’t he trust you? Why did he think it would be necessary to guilt you?”

When he said nothing, she shot up from her seat, “Answer me!”

“Calm down…” He placated her.

She moved away from the table and paced back and forth, “I want to know why. You obviously know the answer –”

He took the wet towel from the table and squeezed it in one hand, “I think – some things are better off left unquestioned.”

“Harry –” Hermione’s voice came swiftly in warning, “Don’t insult my intelligence…”

“You tell me right now!” She demanded.

He weighed his options again. There was no point hiding it anymore. He couldn’t see a future where he could avoid this topic and go forward with this mission. Hermione was too suspicious to let this go, and quarrelling with his last and only best friend was the last thing he wanted to do.

Pushing his chair away, he stood up from his seat. Reaching into his Mokeskin pouch, he pulled out the locket. He walked to the centre pole of the tent and grabbed the lamp that was hanging on a hook in the wood and he set it down on the floor. He paused for a moment, thinking one last time before he hung the chain on the hook.

The lamp on the floor gave an eerie glow to the entire tent. The yellow light from under them, cast giant shadows above them on the tent fabric, hiding their eyes in the shadows of their cheekbones. So, it was hard to determine her expression when he asked her one last time, “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yes.” She replied firmly.

He turned to his right and stepped closer to the pole the locket was hanging on. It took perhaps ten seconds as if the Horcrux sensed his presence, it started floating. He leaned his head closer and like he was a magnet it grew attracted to the scar on his forehead. He pulled his head back just in time before it could touch his skin. A deep pain bloomed in his forehead, like a part of his skull was literally being pried apart. He held his head, but the locket still hung in mid-air, trying to get to his scar, only restricted by the chain stuck on the hook.

Ignoring the pain, he turned to Hermione, “Now, you know why.”

The silence in the tent was more than enough to tell him that she understood the implication. She walked backwards until she bumped into her bed and she sat down, staring off hopelessly into space, just as he backtracked away from the pole into his chair and he stumbled into his seat. Minutes later, she pulled her legs up against her chest and buried her face against her arms and knees. He started hearing her sobs as the pain in his head faded. Her sobs grew more and more heart-wrenching by the second. This is why he hadn’t wanted to tell her.

Not wanting to hear her cry for another week, he stood up and walked out of the tent.

Next Morning –

Like a jolt of warm air inside his veins, his body kicked him awake. He opened his eyes just in time to see her standing before him, lowering her wand. Now feeling awake, he looked around for a moment, realising that it was morning and he had fallen asleep seated against the tree.

Before he could even comprehend what was happening, she demanded, “How long have you known?”

“Wha-?”

His groggy confusion seemed to annoy her, “How long have you known about the Horcrux?”

He blinked twice. It took a second to remember what happened a few hours ago. She looked like hell. She had clearly been crying, her eyes were red and puffy. Her voice too was a bit brittle. Had she cried the whole night?

Before he could ponder more, “Harry…?” She dragged with her cracked voice.

He didn’t want to answer her. He pulled himself up, “I need water.” He brushed past her.

“I asked you a question…” She repeated, “How long have you known?”

He stopped and sighed, “How is that important?”

“No…no…” She shook her head as she walked to him just as he turned, “You had your turn to ask questions. Now, it’s my turn. So, answer me.”

“Long enough,” he said taking his glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose before suppressing another yawn.

“Weeks? Months? How long?” She repeated, forcibly dragging his attention back to her.

“Why does it matter?” He placed the specs back on his nose as he asked her again, a little irritated this time.

“BECAUSE –” Her tone burst before she paused, making an effort to control herself, “Because, I want to know if you knew this before we started this mission.”

He saw no point in lying to her anymore, “That night when I met my mother’s soul.” He divulged to her, “She told me.”

A look of betrayal flashed across her features, “You’ve known this for almost two months?” She said quietly.

She turned sideways and walked, pacing nervously once again. She began ranting, “I don’t believe this – I don’t believe – you were supposed to tell us everything! You knew this before we even started!”

“No – no…, by then, we all decided to go.” He defended.

“But you hid the most valuable piece of information!” She yelled at him, “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“Would you have agreed to come with me, if I had told you?” His question made her look like he had slapped her.

“Of course not!” She yelled at him.

He nodded slightly, “And that’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“You thought it was okay to lie to us so that we would agree?” Her question did seem incredulous.

“I didn’t lie to you. I just chose not to –”

“– tell us. Yes, I know! But a lie by omission is still a lie!” She completed his line.

He shook his head with the last of his patience, “This is bigger than us. The entire world is at stake. You know this!”

Hermione grew mad, she grabbed his shirt and shook him, “And you should have trusted me to make that choice!”

“I know you, Hermione!” He grabbed her arms by the side and yelled, “You would have run straight to Arthur or McGonagall or anyone. You could never make that choice!” She flinched at his tone, a stray tear running down her cheek.

Her grip on his jacket tightened, “And when were you planning on telling me?” She sniffed as she shook him again, “You were going to wait until the last moment, weren’t you? When it wouldn’t be a choice anymore, just another cold arbitrary decision.”

He remembered to breathe, “An arbitrary decision about my life.”

She blinked twice before she sniffed again, tears were starting to run down her cheeks, “W-would you trade my life like that?”

His rage skyrocketed, “Absolutely not!” He felt insulted that she would think that about him.

“Why not?!”

“Are you insane?! It’s your life!” He yelled at her.

She started slapping his chest harder and harder, “T-then why is it worth more to you than yours?!” She slapped harder at his chest, “Why?!”

At that point, she started wailing, so he did the only thing he could do to comfort her. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight. She didn’t resist, she just wailed harder into his shoulder. He let out a breath and rested his cheek against her braided her.

Her hiccups slowly subsided, but he didn’t let go of her, and he didn’t think she wanted to let go of him either. He waited until she calmed, “I don’t have a choice.” He said slowly and softly, “I can’t afford to be selfish. You know the prophecy; you know what it means. I am one of Riddle’s Horcruxes. To defeat him, it must be destroyed. Which means I have to be destroyed along with it. It’s a reality that I have to face.”

She immediately pulled away from him, stepping apart she wiped at her cheek with her sleeve and almost ran into the tent. He waited for a few minutes looking up into the sky. He wanted to roar in anger but chose not to. He followed her inside. She was seated on the floor against the foot of her bed. He went and sat next to her. She wrapped her hand around his arm for comfort.

As much as he tried to resist it, he couldn’t help but feel that it was nice to be this close to her. He knew it was wrong and futile, Ron’s accusing words to Hermione echoed in his ears, but at this moment, he didn’t care.

“We don’t know for sure.” She said after many minutes of silence and it confused him.

“We don’t know what for sure?”

Hermione took a deep breath and repeated clearly, “We don’t know that destroying the Horcrux means destroying the person it’s bound to.”

He closed his eyes immediately. He should have seen this coming. After all, she was an academic first before anything else.

“Hermione, listen to me – Dumbledore couldn’t figure it out. What chance do we have?”

Her gaze flashed hard at him, “Dumbledore didn’t have your best interests in mind, Harry!”

“Dumbledore didn’t care! He didn’t care if you lived or died! After all of this, how can you still trust in him?” She almost shouted, “…you said so yourself, he wanted you to owe him! He’s manipulating you to do this mission!”

He shook his head, “I may not trust in his intentions, but I trust in his intellect and knowledge. If anybody could have figured it out, it was him.”

“What if he never tried to find a way?” She countered strongly, “What makes you think he even tried? Your life didn’t mean anything to him. What if he had written your life away?”

“…”

At his silence, she continued, “I thought so. We need to find a way to separate the Horcrux. There must be a way. If there is a way to make one, there must be a way to undo it. And if there isn’t, we’re going to create one.”

“We don’t have time for any of that. Nor the resources.” He pointed out to her, “Right now, we have to focus on finding the next Horcrux.”

She just gritted, “We had time and resources at Grimmauld Place. If only you had told –”

“And then what?” He interrupted, “If I had told you back then, you would have told Remus the first chance you got.”

“And we would have had help!” She snapped back.

She looked at him accusingly, “I never understood why Dumbledore didn’t use the Order more, and right now, I think you’re following after Dumbledore’s lead. You don’t want them involved either.”

He sighed harshly, “Aside from putting them in more danger – this knowledge that we have about Riddle is the only advantage that we have. The more people know, the higher the chance of it slipping through the cracks and you-know-who finding about it. And if you-know-who finds out that we’re hunting after his Horcruxes, it’s over.”

Hermione shrunk a little, “So what do we do? Give up? On your life? Do I have to accept that you’re condemned t-to death?” Her voice broke again.

“No,” He replied instinctively, “We’re not giving up. But we’re not putting anyone else in danger either. But we have to find a way and end this. But – me living or dying shouldn’t be a factor.”

At that, she broke down crying again. He tried to comfort her, but she pushed him away, angrily slapping at his arm and chest. She furiously wiped at her tears and tried to reign herself.

“Why? T-tell me why!” She hiccupped as she shouted.

He took a moment to collect his thoughts. He owed her an explanation.

“No matter how much I train, I cannot imagine it, duelling and winning. You weren’t there when Dumbledore and Riddle duelled at the Ministry. They were duelling, at a different level. And Riddle only has grown stronger since then… I can’t imagine winning against that kind of power. It was more – more than just magic, it was experience, knowledge, and skill. I don’t have that…”

He turned to her staring at him, worry etched on her face, “No matter how much I train, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to catch up to them. Dumbledore is the only one who could have trained me, and he didn’t. I have to face that fact. Look, we’ve never backed away from a fight. Even when outnumbered and outgunned, we’ve always fought. Until now, that was enough, but I know that against Riddle, that won’t be. And nobody will come to rescue us this time. Me, being ready to fight with everything I’ve got…is not enough. It’s not enough…” He trailed off.

Having acknowledged that fear to someone other than himself, it suddenly became all too real. Her eyes bored into his, and he felt vulnerable and he hated that, “We have to defeat him.” He turned away and whispered, “By any means necessary. And that means I have to be ready to die if that’s what it takes.”

“I’ve thought about this many times before. And I think I know why Dumbledore planned this path for me. I hate it, but I don’t see another way.” He paused to see if she was still paying attention, and she was, so he went on, “Each time a Horcrux is made, the soul in the body is split in half. When you-know-who made the diary, he left half his soul in that. The next time, he made a Horcrux, he fractured his soul in half again, and he left a quarter of his soul in the ring. He’s been fracturing and fracturing his soul until there’s nothing left. That’s why his body disintegrated that night when the Killing Curse rebounded. That’s why he can’t make any more Horcruxes. His soul is too fractured and too small. Destroying all those Horcruxes now, I think will weaken him. If we can make him mortal again, I think that’s enough. With that little life left in him, he might not have enough of it to live long. Death might just follow him quickly afterwards.”

Hermione just stared at him with wide eyes, flabbergasted, as though he had gone mad.

Her shock didn’t fade, “You really don’t care about your life.” She whispered, “It’s what you’ve been trained for, all your life. From the first year, through the tests to get to the stone, Dumbledore, he’s convinced you that your life has no value, that it only has meaning if you fight and kill yourself in service of others.”

Something about the way she said that hurt his chest. As though, he wasn’t normal. As if he was a ‘freak’, a slur that Petunia has thrown at him throughout the years. It left a bad taste in his mouth.

Blinking back tears, she stood up and walked to the centre of the tent. She kept her back turned to him, “Why is this not bothering you? Why are you not worried?! Why are you not furious?!”

He arched his head back and leaned against the wood, “It does bother me.” He confessed to her, “The man I trusted the most, the man I admired, the man I was willing to die for. He’s betrayed me. Dumbledore used me as if I was…something – disposable. But I also owe him. Of course, it does bother me!”

She turned to him, he could see her lips curling as she struggled, “But worrying and moaning and groaning about it, wouldn’t help us now, would it?” He asked.

Hermione looked at him as if she wanted to protest, but couldn’t because he had a point. He hesitated, but he wanted to tell her, “That’s what Ron did. He came here with us out of some sense of obligation, did the bare minimum, and then bellyached about the problems at every turn. I don’t want to do that. I won’t…because it won’t help us.”

“It will help you heal.” She said to him, ignoring what he said about Ron, her voice echoed with misery.

He feigned a smile, “I’ll heal in time. Don’t worry about me.”

She didn’t fall for it like he had hoped, “Time? When? When you die?”

“Please, Hermio –…”

She interrupted him, “No, I’m not letting this go, no matter how much you want me to. Tell me how you really feel. Tell me you want to live!”

“Fine!” He yelled at her, “You want to know how I feel? Fine, I’ll tell you! I’M LOST! I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING! I’M f*ckING LOST!”

“…” Strangely, he felt more at ease than ever as he calmed down. And she didn’t look like she was bothered by him screaming at her.

“All men want is a noble death, it’s in our nature.” He blurted out, but at her shell-shocked look, he went on, “I’m no different. I’m at the centre of this, a prophecy around my neck like a noose, a Horcrux in my head, and time running out. With these odds, in the end, what I want is just a noble death.”

She stepped closer and almost whispered a question, “What if I want you to – live a noble life?”

This time he didn’t have to feign a smile, he admired her ever-present optimism, “I’ll choose it if it was in the cards.”

“For once, choose for yourself.” She shot back; his smile only enraged her, “Not for others, not for the Order, or for the world, choose for yourself.”

“…sometimes you have to do what’s best for yourself, you have to put yourself together before you can help others…” He remembered something his mum had said to him.

‘Was she right?’ He pondered to himself. Did he not have that sense of self-preservation? Had Dumbledore trained it out of him? That’s what Hermione was implying.

Unlike Hermione, he had more experiences to rely on. He was under no illusion that Dumbledore knew about the Dursleys and chose not to do anything. Was it all just to train him to be compliant? From the very beginning, was it all just to test him? At this point, he wouldn’t put anything past that man.

“…I don’t know if I can…” He sighed and drifted into idle thoughts.

“…”

His thoughts were broken when she said abruptly, “I don’t see any other way.” She said to him, “You promise me now or I’m walking away. Promise me, Harry. Promise me that you’ll stop thinking about all this rubbish about noble death. Or, I’m leaving, and you can do – this alone…”

He watched her carefully as she stuttered. He could tell that even she was surprised by her resolve. He saw panic and pride in her features. It was strangely comforting to know that she cared that much about his well-being. He couldn’t think of one other person who cared that much about him, who wasn’t dead already. That’s what made him think about the prospect of her leaving. He wanted her to stay, but a part of him argued that she would be safer if she left him. But he also knew that he couldn’t do this alone.

Did he think that she would walk away? His brain told him that she was serious about her threat. But his gut feeling told him that she wouldn’t. He always had good instincts, and he trusted his gut feeling. He didn’t think it was a bluff, but he didn’t think that she could walk away either.

“You’re the second person asking me to make this promise.” He said with a small disingenuous smirk.

The question was evident in her eyes, even as she didn’t ask, he still voluntarily told her, “My mum. When I met her, she made me promise as well.”

She crossed her arms dramatically, a gesture he felt like he had seen her do all his life, “Well, unlike you, she’s got some common sense.”

It made him grin, particularly seeing her tear-stricken face suppressing a smile. He was thankful for the little ounce of levity, “I’ll promise you this… We’ll try to find a way to separate the Horcrux from my head. I’ll help you. But if it doesn’t work out, I want you to know this in no uncertain terms, your life, the Order, and the world mean more to me than my own.”

She bit her lips, trying to process what he just told her. She turned and paced back and forth, her nervousness and anxiety radiating out of her.

After many minutes of nervous pacing under his careful gaze, she finally relented, “Okay.”

Folding her arms, she looked him dead in the eyes, “Okay,” She agreed, “We just have to find a way to remove the Horcrux.”

“We’ve wasted two months already.” She informed him before she began ranting, “Two months we haven’t been looking for a solution. We’re not wasting any more time. We have to start with the Animus spell, it’s more relevant now than ever…”

He tuned her out and admired her passion, which was back. He saw it in her features. She was now looking more determined than ever before. It motivated him to have hope, maybe there was some way to remove the Horcrux from his head. If he trusted anyone to try removing it, it was her. Maybe there was a way to survive this war after all.

Before he could muse on it any further, his smile fell away as he froze in his place for an instant. Like an ice-cold bucket of water fell over him, he was sobered in a second, and his senses went on high alert. His eyes automatically went to the Black ring on his finger which was vibrating harshly.

(Whistle)

The whistle came as a surprise to Hermione who instantly froze. His eyes instantly went to the device on the table, and in seconds he was up. The Sneakoscope was whistling and spinning in a warning. He looked at Hermione as he pulled his wand out and dashed out of the tent.

Chapter 12: Ideas Explored

Chapter Text

Looe –

Lightning flashed in the sky and a deep rumbling noise echoed in the distance. The sky was darkened by clouds, and the world seemed grey. In a grassy patch of land in the middle of shallow woods, a distortion appeared in the air. The space seemed to spiral into a centre eight feet above the grass. Within the blink of an eye, two figures fell out and landed on the grass in a heap, groaning in pain.

“NNGNNA!” Harry and Hermione both landed violently and rolled in opposite directions stretching their bodies in pain.

The seconds passed by in a haze and Harry finally sat up on the grass holding his stomach. Willing himself to sit straight, he reached over his left shoulder and tapped at the ember of golden flame burning his jacket, ‘tap…tap…tap…’ The fire refused to go out easily, but he smothered it with his hand regardless.

Turning to Hermione who was on the ground next to him, breathing hard with her eyes closed, he asked out of breath, “Are you…alright…?”

She didn’t respond at first, just opened her eyes and scanned him for a brief second. Then she gave an imperceptible nod of her head. She closed her eyes again and relaxed a little against the thick grass they had penetrated through on their fall.

Seeing that she was alright, he unfurled his shirt and checked below his right-side ribs where it was hurting. There was an angry red splotch of torn flesh. Letting his shirt fall back down, he clamped his hand around the wound through the fabric and felt the blood soaking it in.

By now, he had caught on his breath and started thinking. He remembered the huge man who had flanked them and tackled him to the ground from the side. And that’s when he first felt the pain in his stomach. He remembered it. Why did he bite him? The man had bitten him.

The moment the man’s balance tripped up; he had sent him flying through a tree branch above with a knockback hex before the savage landed on his back splattering on a rock. He didn’t particularly care if the Snatcher lived or not, but why did the Snatcher bite him? He idly kept coming back to what happened to Bill the day Dumbledore died. Could it be? He wondered for a second.

“Hermione?” His breathing slowed and so he called her now sounding clearer than before, “Do you have any silver with you?”

Her eyes snapped open again in a flash, widening as she turned her head, “W-hy?” Her voice quivered. She asked as her eyes tracked down to where he was clamping down on his stomach with his hand. Silver was only used as a remedy for a handful of cases. And she had already caught on, coming to the same conclusion he had come to.

Their eyes met and an unspoken conversation went by for a moment. A realization sank in on her features. She immediately sat up next to him and frantically started looking for her purse.

“Lie down.” She ordered and he took a deep breath and did as he was told.

He heard her say, “Accio Silver.” He turned to see her pulling out a vial of powdered silver. He watched as she pointed her wand again, “Accio Dittany!” Her voice cracked and she started shivering again.

“This will h-hurt!” She said anxiously. He could tell that she was in a state of semi-shock.

He ignored her warning for a moment and caught her wand hand instead. She paused and took a second to look at him, he locked eyes as he forcibly calmed his own breath, “Calm down.” He told her.

She went still for a second and gazed at him uncertainly, looking for weaknesses in his eyes. When he held her gaze impassively, she visibly calmed a little. Her breathing once again came back under control.

She wiped at her eyes and clenched her fists for a second and let out a deep breath. She then told him softly, “This will hurt.” This time, her voice no longer felt anxious and that was reassuring, so he nodded while soundlessly mouthing, ‘I know’.

“Let me see,” She asked and he took his hand away, allowing her to look. She pulled his shirt up and made a face at what she saw, “I need to clean it first. Don’t move.”

Picking up her wand, she pointed at the wound and a moment later, he felt a jet of cold water rushing against his skin. The stinging pain kept him at the moment and he tried his best not to think of it when he felt his torn flesh move against the water.

“Roll over a little.” She warned quickly and pushed him as he complied while looking away.

He didn’t look but felt a cold powder on his skin right where it stung the most. He assumed it to be silver. A moment later, she clutched his shoulder tight and he readied himself. The pain almost blinded him, it burned almost as painful as the Basilisk venom, “GRRRH!” He gritted his teeth till the pain subsided slowly.

And he twisted until he was on his back again a bit out of breath. She stared at the wound and touched it and he couldn’t feel the torn skin against her fingers. He was pretty sure the wound had healed. Raising his head, he took a peek and then touched his skin, only to find a few dark-coloured bumps where it was wounded.

He laid back down breathing a sigh of relief, “Thank you.” She gave him a thin courtesy smile and he gave her one back. She looked like hell with smudges of mud on her cheek and neck likely from when he had pushed her out of the way.

He was about to get up, which is why he didn’t expect it. She suddenly laid down next to him, placing her head on his shoulder. Which was beyond odd, to say the least. Immediately, questions came to his mind. Was she alright?

“Are you alright?” He softly asked her.

“Fine.” She mumbled as she held him tighter.

The rain started drizzling and by the looks of the thick dark clouds above, there was going to be a storm, he sighed, ‘Oh perfect, just bloody perfect.’ All he needed now on top of everything was to be drenched in rain.

“Hermione,” he called her while staring at the sky.

“Hm?” Her voice felt rather very subdued.

He paused for a second, he couldn’t bring himself to tell her to get up, so he diverted, “…where are we?” He asked curiously, now that they were no longer in danger.

“Somewhere near Looe.” She said softly.

“Somewhere?” He asked sounding a little alarmed and a little doubtful.

Reading his concern she replied, “I’ve never been here before; I’ve only seen a family photo. It’s the only place I could think of when we apparated.” The tone of her voice felt a little disassociated.

Never having been to many places to memorize, he didn’t apparate often, only when he absolutely had to, so that duty often fell on Hermione. Apparating without a clear destination in mind would always be a risk. But then again, it was a side-along apparition and they were here without being Splinched, so in hindsight, she had done a splendid job. With that being said, he decided not to dwell on it.

The rain was beginning to pick up and that was his cue to get up. “We should set up the tent.” He suggested trying to sit up and get his shoulder free from under her head, but her weight prevented him from moving.

She shook her head instead, “Let’s just…” she hesitated for a moment, “Let’s wait for a moment.”

“It’s raining. We should set up the tent and get inside.” He tried to tell her, but she just shook her head.

“Let’s just wait for a moment.” She repeated and wouldn’t let go of him.

“Hermione, you’re scaring me. Are you alright?” He half-rolled sideways on the grass and tried his best to check her for injuries.

“I’m fine,” she said in a monotone which was nowhere near convincing enough, “It’s just…just…” She couldn’t finish.

Something was clearly up and she didn’t feel like explaining it to him. As much as he hated the rain, he breathed out and did the only thing he could do. He laid there allowing her to cling to him. It felt ridiculous to be lying cuddled up on a patch of grass in the middle of nowhere under the rain. But he decided that he didn’t have a choice but to console her through whatever was going on.

Accepting that he would be under the rain for some time, he decided to distract her from whatever it was that she was thinking about. And suddenly it fell on him that he had nothing to talk about that would distract her. Nothing that seemed appropriate at the moment, at least.

He thought about it for a moment, any conversation was better than silence. Anything would serve to distract her, so he said, “I think I know how the Snatchers found us.”

Hermione didn’t say anything to that for a long second until finally she seemingly snapped out of her daze, “Hm?”

“I said, I think I know how the Snatchers found us.”

She didn’t look very interested, her voice seemed subdued as she queried, “How?”

Now that she took the bait, he continued to distract her, “The one who bit me was a Lycan, right?” He asked and she nodded slightly into his shoulder, “And there were others like him among the Snatchers.”

“So?” She asked now curious.

“They must have picked up my scent from the other day when I went into town to buy supplies. I don’t think I – I mean, I didn’t use any scent-masking spells. So, it’s possible they could have tracked me by scent.” He told her and he looked at her eyes to see the curiosity returning slowly, “That’s more likely than them stumbling on our tent site despite all the wards.”

“But how would they know your scent?” She asked automatically, “Wouldn’t they need a reference or something to know your scent perhaps?”

“Merlin, I don’t think they knew they were after Harry Potter, they probably thought we were some random hiding Muggleborns. They would have called for more Death Eaters if they knew who we were. We can thank God for that.” He told her feeling lucky, “Besides if they were tracking me by scent, they could get it from some of our clothes we left at Grimmauld.”

In fact, he was thankful that the Snatchers were unprepared. If the Snatchers had called the Death Eaters, they would have broken through the barrier in half the time and they wouldn’t have even had the time to pack up the tent.

Hermione nodded in agreement, “That seems plausible. I can teach you some anti-tracking spells.” She offered slowly.

“That’s good,” he agreed with that, “I’d like to learn it.” She smiled at him and he eased a little, feeling certain that she was coming out of her shock.

“Speaking of spells…” She continued momentarily, “What were those golden flames you used?”

His face tightened at that, while his plan to distract her was working, it was leading the conversation to dangerous territory.

“I don’t know.” He started slowly, “I think I did that reflexively. I mean, I wasn’t thinking any particular spell when I fired that at the Snatchers.” He paused for a second when he felt her gaze sharpen on him.

She didn’t have to say it. He understood the question she was thinking in her mind, “Yes…, it’s the same spell I used against you-know-who that day. And no, the wand didn’t move on its own this time.”

Hermione sat up abruptly, finally freeing his shoulder. She looked a bit eager to tell him, “Maybe that’s what happened that day too. You did say that your scar was hurting badly when you did it. Maybe it felt like your wand moved on its own, but you could have been doing it reflexively like you did today.”

He sat up as well. While he was glad that she was feeling better now and was no longer shell-shocked, he didn’t exactly want to open this can of worms. He wanted to tell her that Voldemort was searching for a new wand for a reason. He weighed his options for a second, he could argue with her in the rain, or he could let it go and set up the tent. The tent seemed like the better idea.

“Maybe…I don’t think so, but it is possible that I could have hallucinated it.” He said as she stood up, “Well, let’s set up the tent and get out of this rain and we can talk.”

She nodded in agreement as she pulled out her wand and stated, “Let’s do it quickly, the rain is picking up.”

The sky was dark and the wind was howling as she stood half-hidden behind a tree, avoiding the flurry of coloured spells that were sailing past her, some of them missing her by inches. Harry was in the distance, firing spell after spell at the enemy without regard. Her hand trembled to grip the wand. She waited for the opening. In an instant, she moved away blindly pointing her wand in the general direction of the enemy. She could tell that she was shouting the incantation, but she couldn’t hear her own voice. The world remained muted as she took cover behind a larger tree and saw the light red light of her exploding charm land.

The Snatcher looked up just in time to see the tree explode into a million wooden shrapnel flying in all directions. The man had covered his face on instinct, which saved him from being blinded but also sealed his fate. Before he could comprehend that the tree was beginning to topple over, it was over. He tried to move, but it was too late. The massive tree crashed down on top of him, and within a moment, he was pinned to the ground at his waist.

She stood there watching in horror at what she had done to the snatcher. “Move!” Harry’s voice echoed faintly in the background, as her eyes remained locked on the screaming man who was coughing up blood as he desperately kept trying to push the tree lying on his waist. Golden flames sailed past her, lighting everything aflame. The man screamed, his upper body writhing in agony as he was consumed by the inferno. One of the Snatchers went to put out the fire on the downed man. Splashing a jet of water to put out the flames.

“Hermione, get us out of here! NOW!” Her vision panned to Harry, who came running towards her blindly firing another stream of golden flames. She could hear men screaming in pain behind her but she could only focus on her ragged breaths.

“NOW!” Harry’s voice echoed. Everything went black the moment she felt Harry’s hand grab her shoulder.

Tent –

She woke up in cold sweat in a dark tent. The memory was fresh in her mind. She felt like crying, but couldn’t. Her head ached; the pain radiated in between her eyes. The guilt overwhelmed her. She hugged her knees to her chest. She felt lost and alone, her mind racing with thoughts and emotions she couldn't make sense of.

She grabbed her face with her hands, “Purgare…” She muttered, expelling her magic by force as a way to relieve stress. She took deep breaths, trying to steady her emotions, and clamped her lips with her hands, a firm grip on her jaw. Relaxing her forehead, she stopped the tears before they spilt.

She hadn’t meant to kill someone; it had been an accident. While she wasn’t certain that she had killed that man, she just assumed the worst. And it wasn’t just the incident that weighed on her, it was the knowledge that she was capable of harming someone to that extent.

Each day, the war grew worse for them, in ways she hadn’t even conceived. She was still coming to terms with the truth about the Horcrux in Harry. She never imagined that they would be tested like this, it made her wonder how Dumbledore expected them to do this. Is this why Dumbledore felt the need for Harry to owe him? To reflect on debt during pressing times like this?

“KSHHHT! KSHHHT! KSHHHT!” A sudden noise distracted her.

“KSHHHT! KSHHHT! KSHHHT!” Every few seconds, a metallic ratcheting sound repeatedly echoed through the tent.

Feeling curious, she pulled herself out of bed. Picking her wand, and wearing her slips she walked to the tent flap. She pulled her jumper close and peeked outside to see a bright ember of fire inside a glass bottle floating in the air. Underneath the light was Harry, seated on a stool, as he worked on the motorbike Sirius had left him. The stool and the bike were on a tarp laid out on the grass. He placed the spanner on something and tightened it with a push-and-pull motion.

She stepped out of the tent and went to him as he put the spanner down and took the oil can. “Harry.” She called him, hoping her voice remained calm.

He turned to look at her and immediately went back to the bike with a short nod, “What are you doing up?” He asked as he oiled the machine.

“I couldn’t sleep.” She narrowed her eyes at him, “What are you doing?”

“Nightmares again?” Ignoring her query, he softly inquired with that knowing tone of his.

She didn’t answer, she just conjured another stool with a wave of her wand and sat under the floating light. She noted that her conjuration was getting better. He looked down to the ground for a moment and then raised his eyes to her waist as if he was waiting for an answer.

“Yes,” she agreed hesitantly.

“It’ll pass.”

She nodded at his quick statement. It was his way of helping her, he tried to give her solutions. She’s been noticing him being far more industrious with his time ever since Ron left. It was a subtle shift in his behaviour. And frankly, she didn’t know what to make of it.

“Want to talk?” She smiled tiredly at that. He didn’t look like he wanted to talk or listen, but he was making an effort regardless. And even if she didn’t say it, she appreciated the effort.

She shook her head at that, “No.”

“He’s probably not dead.” He sighed as he looked her in the eye. She froze when he said it, but before she could retort, he continued, “And if he’s dead. It wasn’t because of your spell; it was probably from my fire. Rest easy.”

She could scarcely imagine what she was hearing, “Have you gone mad?!” Taken aback, she shrieked.

“No.”

She grew madder at that as she sprung back up to her feet, “WE killed someone!”

Harry’s voice was the calmest she had ever heard, “No, we don’t know that. You were defending yourself.”

“How can you say THAT?!” She yelled at him, “We did something horrible!” Fresh tears sprang up as she covered her eyes and much of her face with both hands. Her hiccups grew and all she could hear was the noise of the insects chirping around them.

She wiped off her tears and her sombre voice quivered, “How can you say that?”

“Because you’re safely standing in front of me. That’s why.” He replied swiftly as though he had been waiting to reply.

Harry swirled on the stool to fully face her, “They were trying to kill us, not capture us. And they would have killed us. Killed you. If they had the chance, they would have done it. Do you understand what that means?”

“If I have to choose between your life or someone else’s, I’m choosing yours.” She just stood there dumbfounded, trying to process what he was saying, “I have a choice, it’s simple. Can I, or can’t I? Can I live with the guilt of knowing that my spell killed someone when used out of self-defence? Yes. They tried to kill us, so they had it coming. But can I live with the guilt of knowing that my spells could have saved your life? No, I can’t. So, I’d rather be dead than carry that guilt!” His tone grew louder and louder.

He wasn’t finished, “The day I saw your wanted poster and that bounty on your head, I promised myself that I would keep you and Ro – that I’d keep you safe. And I’m going to do everything in my power to keep that promise.”

It sickened her to hear it, yet she couldn’t help but relate to that sentiment. Not so long ago, when their roles had been reversed, she had felt the same. She remembered having that same thought in her head when she saw him on the ground still breathing on platform 9¾. It was Harry or the Death Eater’s son. When she differentiated the choice like that, the answer seemed simple. She preferred to live in a world with her best friend, rather than in a world without.

Her legs felt weak, she summoned the stool back to her with a wave and sat down as she saw him swirling on his seat back to the bike in front of him. She wiped away the last of her tears. They sat in silence as she got her feelings under control. She did feel a bit safer knowing that he cared that strongly about her well-being.

She finally understood what Harry meant that day, “You can’t know unless it happens to you. What it’s like to take a life, even by accident. You don’t feel like yourself anymore. You don’t think like yourself anymore. Enough time passes and suddenly one day you wake up wondering – and you reckon that it was you all along. You just didn’t know it.”

“I understand now.”

He froze in his place. His eyes pierced her forehead even though she couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

“That night when we rowed over what happened at the station.” She clarified for him, “I understand.”

He tinkered with the screwdriver, cleaning the dirt under one of his nails, “I know – and I wish you didn’t have to…” Harry’s tone seemed so sad, “…but that isn’t the kind of world we live in, I’m afraid. I had to learn that the hard way, and now you too.”

“…” Silence prevailed between them, all their innocence, dreams, and hopes, robbed of them each day. And the sad part was that they knew that they didn’t mind it as much as they should, because they were determined to fulfil their duties, responsibilities and roles.

“How did you – handle it?”

Harry paused what he was tinkering on. He stared off into space for what seemed like a few long seconds before he told her, “I haven’t.” He spoke earnestly as he slowly turned sideways in his seat to face her.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to handle it.” He told her semi-offhandedly. She nodded at that, understanding what he meant. One would have to be truly evil to be able to cope with something like that so easily.

She knew these were questions only he could answer. And she took comfort in that commonality they now had, “Does it get any better?”

“The guilt fades with time.” He crunched his face, “Try not to dwell on it too much. The more you think about it, the more it tends to weigh on you.”

She scoffed at that tiredly, “How can I not?”

“Distract yourself. Do something.” He told her with a small smirk, “Anything.”

She thought about it, “Distract?”

“Bloody hell, yeah,” He strongly replied, “Do anything you feel like doing. Do anything you think you should be doing.”

“Like trying to learn how to engineer an enchanted bike?” She asked him softly.

He kept a straight face as he shook his head, “No, like trying to find the bottle of whisky my best friend has hidden from me, and if that fails, then – learn how to repair a bike.”

She smiled at that, and so did he. They soon fell into a mixture of sombre giggling and tired grinning. He asked quietly, “By the way, where did you hide it?”

She narrowed her eyes while smirking cheekily, “You’ll never find it I’m afraid.”

“Damn…” He muttered to himself, making her smile more. She hadn’t smiled in days and the smile on her lips felt almost alien, but it did lift her spirits all the same.

“Speaking of repair, what are you repairing?” She asked curiously, “I thought the only thing needed for it to run was fuel.”

Harry reached over the bike and took something from behind a metal bar where the seat used to be. It was a metallic sheet with holes in it. He handed it to her. She took it from his hand and inspected it carefully. They were runes etched on a rusted metal plate.

“Harry, these are runes…”

He gave a nod, “…to stencil on the bike.” He tapped at the cap of the petrol tank with the tip of a screwdriver.

“Stencil?” She tilted her head and carefully inspected each rune, “Why stencil the runes when you can enchant them without runes?” She mumbled more to herself than she asked him.

“Obviously, I want the enchantment to be permanent and not grow weaker with time.”

She half-listened but made sense of the runes in her head, translating it mentally to understand its function. It finally clicked what he was trying to achieve, “This is a runic engravement of the Refilling Charm. You want to enchant the bike so that you won’t have to refuel it ever again.”

Harry just shrugged at that carelessly, “Wouldn’t you?”

“I would…” She agreed with him, “How did you do this? These runes are complex.”

“I’ve been learning ever since the bike ran out of petrol at Grimmauld Place.”

“But how did you know that runes would solve the problem?” She wondered out loud.

He took a few sheets of translucent paper on the ground that had pencil drawings on it, and he just handed it to her, “Sirius had the idea already, he just didn’t know how to quite crack it. I just filled in the gaps.”

Taking a few minutes to scrutinize the notes and the design in them, she was impressed, to say the least, “Are these yours or Sirius’s?”

He placed the tip of the screwdriver on the pencilled words, “All the pencilled notes are Sirius’s, but the inked ones are mine.”

Many an hour she had lectured Harry to take his studies seriously back in school. But then, the only thing he seemed to enjoy doing was playing that damned Quidditch. She never understood the allure that seemed to attract people to the sport. And it only annoyed her to see that he had a subtle knack for runes when he had a genuine interest in them.

Something sparked in her mind. Maybe the best way to get him interested in studying was by indulging him in interesting projects like this in which he emotionally invested. She remembered the Patronus Charm, an advanced charm that she still had trouble casting at times. And he had learned it years ago from Remus, but he did that only after he was attacked by the dementors on the train. The dementors had made him feel weak and vulnerable, and he had immediately found a way to overcome that obstacle. She filed that bit of wisdom away for another time.

She went through the notes and at first glance, the runes looked right, but she was always more cautious than not, “Do you know if this will work?”

Harry pointed her to a metal bucket on the tarp. It was filled with dirty water. He grinningly told her, “Pour the water down and see for yourself.”

She pointed her wand and the bucket floated in the air and made its way to her. She levitated it to face level and inspected the side of the bucket to see the runic inscription burned into the metal. Realizing that he had tested it before engraving it on the bike, she decided to trust in his confidence. However, just knowing that the spell would refill the water wasn't enough for her, she instead tested something else.

“Evanesco.” She tapped at the bucket and levitated it down to see the contents. The spell completely vanished the water inside until it was fully dry. And without anything to refill, the runes didn’t activate. And that was a clear sign that the runes were stable. It was a brilliant piece of work.

Vastly impressed, she began, “See?” She pointed the metal plate to him, “You can learn subjects when you’re interested. You should have taken Ancient Runes with me, and not wasted your time on Divinations.”

He rolled his eyes at her exasperated, “I knew you were going to say that.” He mumbled inaudibly.

She drawled out, “Harry…”

“What’s done is done. We can’t undo it.” He suggested quickly, “Let’s not worry about roads not taken, shall we?”

She frowned at him, and he sighed at the slight glare she gave him. He looked at her and nodded, “If it makes you feel any better, I am sorry about not studying more seriously at school.”

Her frown turned into a pout, which made him smirk. He went back to tinkering with the bike, while she observed the rune plate in silence. It took her maybe a minute before she saw a flaw in the runes circle. For the next few minutes, she weighed whether she should tell him or not, and that’s when she remembered that Harry wasn’t Ron. She didn't have to mince her words or walk on eggshells around Harry.

“Harry, I have an improvement on the runes.” She began.

“Hm…?”

She pointed at a Rune on the plate and told him, “If you remove this Fwooper inscription from the circle, your Refilling charm will be faster.”

“I deliberately left that in…” He replied thoughtfully, “I want it to be slow.”

To say that she was surprised was an understatement, “Why?”

“The refilling charm is like conjuration, isn’t it?” He asked her and when she gave a nod, he continued, “It refills what’s left in the tank. And to refill something, it converts something else, like…”

“Air…” She finished for him, “The law of conservation of mass dictates that matter cannot be created or destroyed. The matter transmutes to a different form. Even when something is being vanished into a state of non-being, it doesn’t cease to exist, the matter just converts to energy in a different space while leaving no traces or residue. I know what the refilling charm does, Harry.” She deadpanned.

Harry just stared at her for a moment as if he just had an epiphany, but shook out of his stupor, “Exactly,” he nodded at her, “…so, the petrol is in the tank. When the lid is closed, it’s airtight, but not really. Sirius sorted the bike for flight. Even if it does an upside-down flip, the fuel won't spill. But as we burn through the fuel, the ullage in the tank needs to be filled with air. So, the tank's got a venting system to let air flow in and out, but it isn't efficient enough to replace the air inside instantly as the fuel is being spent. The charm kicks in whenever the fuel falls below a calibrated level. But if it refills too quickly and if there isn’t enough air inside for the charm to convert, it will…”

She interrupted him as it made sense to what he was getting at, “It will convert whatever material available into fuel. It might even use the remaining petrol, so it won’t refill itself properly.”

“I was thinking more along the lines that the charm will convert the inner layer of metal in the tank into petrol, b-but…it’s the same thing. If done improperly, the bike will disintegrate.” He iterated out loud, “Anyway…basically, I want the bike to keep refuelling itself even when I’m flying it. Even when it’s being used under extreme conditions. And for that, the refilling can’t be too fast.”

“That’s brilliant.” She inspected the runic circle on the plate and muttered, “You’ve put some serious thought into this, haven’t you?”

The function of the runes made sense to her. It was clear that he had thought this through to the last contingencies. The refilling charm will solve the refuelling problem, but it cannot be too fast and thus disintegrate the vehicle itself. The last thing they needed right now was the bike malfunctioning when Harry’s joyriding it.

“Yeah, I have.” He looked proud while grinning.

They fell into a comfortable silence. Her troubling thoughts and notions of guilt were forgotten for the moment. Having slept through the day, she had skipped lunch and her stomach growled audibly. She froze for a second in embarrassment as he looked at her surprised.

“Hungry?” His eyes sparkled with amusem*nt.

“It’s almost midnight.” She sighed with a roll of her eyes.

“Nonsense. That’s no excuse,” he shrugged as he stood up from his seat, “Let’s whip up something.” She didn’t have to be asked twice as they went back into the tent.

October 2^nd –

They had a new operating procedure as Hermione called it. They would no longer camp in one place for more than three days. Which meant that they needed to be packed to move at all times and must move to a new location twice a week. It also left little chance of Snatchers stumbling upon them by accident like last time.

But instead of apparating to a new location from their immediate campsite, the idea was to trek around the countryside during the evening hours till midnight for a few hours before apparating. Hermione suspected that the Ministry had the magical means to track their general location. And despite his best efforts to argue otherwise, she was dead set on taking precautionary measures and had devised a plan to conceal them.

Despite his many assurances that her fears were unwarranted, she didn’t seem interested in listening. Her go-to answer was always ‘it never hurts to be cautious.’

They were under concealment charms that removed scent, and tracks, making them unnoticeable. His left hand was tied at the wrist to her wrist at right hand with a band of thick black ropes that glimmered like black diamonds. Hermione had a star chart in her hands which she was intently watching as she pulled him along. He had his wand on his right as he kept an eye on the ground as they walked. Night vision mode in their pairs of glasses made it infinitely easy for them to travel in the night while keeping an eye on their backgrounds.

“Tempus.” He muttered and the time appeared in the air. It was almost a quarter past eight, which means they’d been walking for over one hour and fifty minutes.

“What time is it?” She asked him with her eyes glued to the chart.

“8:13…”

As if she read his mind, she said to him, “Just twenty more minutes.”

“Do we need this…?” He asked her for the nth time.

“Stop being thick. You know we do.” She didn’t take her eye off the chart.

He blinked twice and undid the night vision on his specs and looked up at the night sky shining through the trees. He could barely see the constellation Cassiopeia that the chart was fixed on via the spell that bound them together. Star Navigation was an advanced skill taught to students in NEWT classes, and he hadn’t qualified to take Sinistra’s Astronomy class last year. The black rope around their wrists supposedly reflected the light from the constellation to protect them on their journey. Supposedly, witches and wizards ages ago used these charts to safely traverse through the waters at sea.

“How do you even know this works?” Harry, did his best to not sound derisive, “Weren’t we supposed to see some sign that would lead us the right way?”

He expected a biting reply, but instead, her reply was subdued, “That’s the part that confuses me too. I did everything right as per the book – I must be missing something.”

In other words, they had just walked in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night, for no reason. He wanted to point that out but ultimately decided to keep the conversation constructive. After all, this was their first attempt at Star Navigation, it would take them some time to get the hang of it.

However, he had another argument to make, “Assuming that those Snatchers told the Ministry about our living situation. Assuming that they have intensified their search in the countryside, wouldn’t trekking through the forest by foot in the night compromise our objective of safety?”

“It has to be at night. We’ll be safe under the stars.” She sighed weakly, “Star Navigation is very difficult but very effective. I picked the star chart on constellation Cassiopeia primarily to ensure our protection.”

They kept moving as Hermione kept tugging at the rope around his wrist, pulling him along in the right direction as per the star chart that she was reading manually.

“It’s not the prospect of travelling at night that I’m worried about,” He clarified to her, “It’s the travelling by foot in an unknown wilderness part of it.”

He could feel her rolling her eyes at him, “Magical navigation like this will lead us to safer locations to camp in where we will be protected by ambient magic. They say noble pureblood houses employ the goblins to use such methods to find locations where they can build their homes and mansions.”

“If it works.” He added superfluously, “We don’t know that it does.”

“It will work.” Regaining her confidence, Hermione replied with utmost certainty, which was comforting.

At his silence, she assumed that he wasn’t convinced and so she elaborated, “Star Navigation is not just a redundant branch of magic meant for wayfarers. There are other uses.”

“I know…” He began but she interrupted him.

“You told me to do anything to distract myself, didn’t you?” She asked and answered before he could open his lips, “And this is what I want to do. There are real spells behind Astronomy, Harry, useful spells. I just need to figure out how this works.”

“Imagine using a star circle to make our location Unplottable at night? You wouldn’t have to guard the tent at night in the winter, we could get an actual night’s sleep without worrying about an attack. Imagine if we can forge a Nightfinder under starlight, we could use it to locate a Horcrux – in theory…”

“Hermione, I know.” He tried to stop her rant.

She was too engrossed that she ignored him, “We need to explore other avenues. Other magical options. I don’t see another way to get rid of that Horcrux in your head.” Her voice grew a bit panicked.

“I get it!” He snapped at her. And she finally calmed, “I get it, more than you think. I’ve been wanting to find a way to study Astral Projection for months now. I understand that we need to expand our horizons. But conventional wisdom says not to trek through the middle of nowhere at night.”

Hermione looked at him with a huff, “We’re being cautious.”

He sighed at her with a tired smile, “I know.” He couldn’t help but appreciate the beauty of her pouting look, especially with those glasses on her nose.

“Unlike you, I don’t spend my free time watching a map.”

He narrowed his eyes at her cheeky shot, “We should be keeping an eye on what’s happening in Hogwarts.” He didn’t divulge the real reason why he was watching the map. Ron’s name appearing on the map, he didn’t want to see it and he was hoping that he wouldn’t, but he was keeping an eye on it regardless.

“Harry, you can’t deduce much about what’s happening inside by just watching everyone with the map.” He found it funny that she said it while she was staring at a star chart.

“I know for a fact that much of the Gryffindors from the fourth year and above aren’t staying in their dormitories at night. Neither are the Hufflepuffs. I know for a fact that the fourth, fifth, and sixth years are escorting the first, second, and third years everywhere in the castle. I know for a fact that many are secretly meeting in the room of requirements. I know that the ghosts and the elves are helping the students. I know that the Carrows are in the castle and they’re constantly moving about. They are afraid, more so than I thought. Whatever’s happening inside doesn’t look pretty.” He summarized what he’s learned so far by studying the movements of all the inhabitants of the castle, “I don’t know what it all means, but I prefer knowing the slivers of truth rather than being in the dark.”

He stopped in his tracks when she twisted her wrist under the rope and intertwined her fingers with his, “They will be alright.” She reassured him, “McGonagall and the rest of the professors will look after them.”

“You don’t believe that.” He spoke and she didn’t fight him on that.

Hermione pursed her lips and thinned them to a line, “I don’t…, but we can’t afford to be worried elsewhere. We have our problems to worry about, don’t we?” She shrugged her shoulders.

“No arguments there.” He shook his head and pulled her along as they continued walking. They kept walking in strides, she quickly took the lead while he kept an eye out.

“Do you miss her?” Hermione abruptly continued.

He turned to look at her, “Miss who?”

“Ginny.”

Hermione’s question seemed so abrupt, so out of the blue. He had to reflect on the question. To be fair, he hadn’t thought about Ginny in a while.

“Of course, I miss her.” He admitted boldly, “Just like I miss everyone else.”

“Oh, please…” Her exasperation piqued his interest.

He stopped again, making her stop with him, “What does that mean?”

She rolled her eyes, “It’s okay to miss her, you idiot. I’m sure she misses you too.”

He narrowed his eyes in confusion, “We broke up.” He pointed as if that was obvious.

She let out a soft laugh, “Because of the war, not because you two were ending it for good.” She paused for a second, “Right?”

He didn’t answer her, “Right?” She repeated, "Harry?"

Harry watched as her playful expression slowly shifted to one of scepticism, then to one of sullen realization when she took in his unamused look.

“…”

“Merlin,” she gasped, “…you aren’t joking.” She gulped a bit before she asked, “Does she know?”

He blinked owlishly but then sighed, “No.”

She stared at the star chart for a second and pulled him along the trail in the right direction, “Talk to me,” she prompted as they walked, “What happened between you two? The last time we spoke, Ginny was under the impression that you two would get back together once all of this is over. And frankly, that’s what we all thought. I thought you were just trying to protect her. What changed? Don’t tell me this is because of the Horcrux. We will find a way to get rid of it.” She went into a small rant.

“No, it’s not because of that,” He supplied briefly, “Not entirely because of that.” He amended shortly.

“Harry…”

Her warning tone subsided when he went on hesitantly, “You’ve seen my mum’s picture, haven’t you?”

She looked genuinely confused by his question, “I suppose. I’ve seen the picture on your desk, and that photo of your parents in your wallet. What’s that g–?”

He interrupted her.

“How likely would you say that my mum and Ginny look alike?” His query was followed by dead silence. It surely threw her off of any reasoning she had assumed in her mind.

“…”

Not having a conventional life, he had to wonder if his disgust was justified. Many an hour, he had spent wondering if he was being unreasonable with his decision. But some deep instinct inside him prompted such strong negative feelings whenever he visualized Ginny’s resemblance to his mum. Ginny with whom he had a passionate budding relationship before. It soured everything afterwards, he couldn’t put it behind him and allow his feelings to flourish. If anything, as time went by, his feelings for Ginny only tempered bit by bit. And it only made him feel more guilty, especially with Ron’s accusing tone echoing in the back of his head.

He broke the silence, “I never noticed the resemblance before,” He divulged to her, “…not until…”

“Not until you met your mum in person.” Having deduced his reasoning, Hermione finished his statement for him and he nodded in agreement.

He had mulled over the realization for two months now. He couldn’t picture a future with Ginny anymore. The image of his mum in Ginny will forever be ingrained in him. They resembled more than they differed. And that wasn’t an image he wanted in his head.

“I’m sorry.” Hermione’s voice came softly like she regretted bringing it up.

He could only give an awkward chuckle, “It’s not your fault. I should have –”

They both stopped and looked up just in time to see the cover of trees part away to a blue orb descending on them. It landed on the ground one foot above the surface. The blue orb of shimmering magic morphed into a full wolf, different to Tonks’s wolf, it was bigger, with a longer tail, profound fangs, and more animalistic features overall. The Patronus opened its mouth and a voice echoed around them.

Hermione pulled out her wand and quickly undid a few protective enchantments around them, and the murky voice grew clearer to Remus’s displeased lecturing tone, “…what happened. Just know that both of your bounties have increased. Doubled. Now it stands at twenty and ten thousand respectively. They have sent troops of Snatchers to scour the countryside. Keep moving, and be careful. Do not respond.”

The Patronus message repeated, “I’ll be brief. I met with Hestia. She’s been hearing rumblings from her contacts. I won’t ask what happened. Just know that both of your bounties have increased. Doubled. Now it stands at twenty and ten thousand respectively. They have sent troops of Snatchers to scour the countryside. Keep moving, and be careful. Do not respond.”

The message repeated once again, but they both got the picture. He had so many questions. But this wasn’t the time for any of that. Hermione had started squeezing his hand during the message, and her slight panic was evident. When the wolf morphed back to the orb and vanished, he tensed at the silence.

Now that the soundproof enchantment was gone, he whispered, “Let’s leave.”

She concurred quickly, “We’ll pick this up some other time.” She whispered back, “I have a place in mind for Apparition. Get ready.”

And with that, he readied himself and momentarily felt the magical pull below his navel and they both felt the squeeze that pulled them in through magic. With a loud noise of a car backfiring, they left an empty forest behind in a swirl of twisting images.

Chapter 13: Animus

Chapter Text

Mingulay –

He stood in front of the mirror after a cold shower, his hair was wet and he was slightly shivering. The heating charm on the shower was malfunctioning, he would have to fix it, but not now. Now, he needed breakfast. It was almost ten o’clock and he was starving. Speaking of food, lately, he’s been craving more and more hard meats, something to bite into and to tear off the bone. And he knew why he was craving it.

The full moon nights had gone by last week. And despite his assurances, Hermione had remained on alert. He had been confident that the bite hadn’t cursed him enough to turn him. But it did leave the wound cursed with a bit of dark magic, and like Bill, he had developed some lupine traits. Hence his craving for hard meats.

The last month has been a tough wave, but yet relatively peaceful compared to before. Finding a place to hide was often the tougher task because they got very little time to do anything else. But whenever they did find a campsite, they warded it together with a litany of their most powerful spells to ensure the best shelf life. And thanks to that, he has been getting more sleep lately. He found that whenever he was too stressed, his connection with Voldemort felt amplified. The key was to practice the Midas Occulumency technique to try and keep as calm as possible at all times. Hermione even taught him a spell called ‘Purgare’, to release mental stress. And so far, the effect seemed to be working.

He made a wide grin at the mirror to show his teeth and he pushed both his lips aside a bit more with his fingers to inspect his canines. He leaned his face closer to the mirror and he checked the length of all four of his canine teeth. Lately, his canines have been growing a wee bit longer. He had half a mind to send Bill a Patronus with some questions about his passive Lycanthropy.

Extending canines was the least of his worries, his nails were growing faster than ever, and so was his hair. He’s never had such thick stubble on his chin before, if this goes on, he would have to start shaving twice a week.

Wearing his jumper, he opened the door and stepped out as he cast a drying spell on his hair. He walked straight to the kitchen and saw all the dishes were being cleaned. Hermione must have placed the cleaning spells while he bathed, he assumed. He was starving, and it was his turn to cook today, while Hermione handled laundry. But before he could cook, he had to check something, so he walked out of the tent and into the beach sand.

They were camped on an uninhabited island, located off the west coast of Scotland near the Outer Hebrides. The land was old, signified by the remains of an old civilization. It was nostalgic, almost felt like they were back in Hogwarts. It gave them a sense of connection to the past and to the island itself, providing a sense of comfort, and making it feel like a home away from home. Their camp was on the beach, properly warded under the stars. The towering cliffs rose on both sides from the sea like sentinels, casting long shadows over the pristine beaches below, offering a haven for them.

He looked into the tent; she was missing even if her spells were active. He searched the beach on all sides and he couldn’t see her anywhere nearby. Wondering where she was, he assumed that maybe she went to explore the island, but he was sure that she wouldn’t go too far. And if she did wander far, she could always apparate back to the tent.

Apparition was something they had both mastered through practice. But getting to the island was by far the most difficult apparition they have ever done. They had naively tried to apparate to the island straight from Tobermory. After their repeated attempts and failure there, they had to take turns apparating to Glendale. Camping there for the night to rest, they had apparated across to Lochmaddy the next morning. And then, they got a map and made it to Lochboisdale, from where they went to Castlebay, and finally made it to Mingulay. They always made the trip at night, because Hermione’s reading of the Star Chart and her attempts at Star Navigation is what led them here.

And now that they were here on the island, they intended to stay here a while. Hiding in one of the most distant places had its benefits in security.

Shrugging at Hermione’s absence, he proceeded walking as he turned to his right, he walked on the sand towards the edge of the beach. He went on top of the rocks, surrounded by the crashing waves, checking for a thread he had left the night before. He found it exactly where he had left it. A thin red twine tied to a rough yet slippery protuberant of a rock. The string was enchanted with an Unbreakable Charm so that it wouldn’t break. He grabbed the twine that went into the blue water and he pulled on it, but it wouldn’t budge, it felt like he was pulling on a rock.

With a grin, he muttered under his breath, “Intra Aquam.” The unbreakable red twine shot out of the water like a sea serpent. With a flick of his wrist, he effortlessly reeled in the string with his wandless magic, and at the end of it was a struggling fish.

The slippery creature landed and flopped about on the rocks, its scales shimmering in the sunlight. Harry crouched down to catch it, but the fish was slippery. After a moment of fumbling, he finally managed to trap it against the rock, holding it firmly in place. It struggled and flopped its tail against his grip, but he didn't let it escape. He examined the fish, which was almost two feet in length. Its sleek silver scales glistened, and its beady black eyes seemed to stare back at him.

With a slight grin, he waited for the fish to stop struggling. When it did, he slowly let go of it. Conjuring a large cloth, he laid the fish on it and made it a makeshift satchel. He couldn't wait to cook it and enjoy a meal.

Removing the beetle-like fishhook on the twine attached to the gills, he reset the trap back into the water. He watched as the waves took the twine out longer and longer into the sea. Satisfied, he wrapped the satchel and lugged it over his shoulder. With an eager jump on his steps, he jumped down to the beach and hurried back to the tent.

As he came closer to the tent, he saw Hermione a few yards past the tent, knee-deep in the water against the waves. He wondered where she had gone and what she was doing. As if sensing him, she turned to him and smiled. It made him feel things he didn’t want to dwell on, so he squashed it, as his eyes went to her hands, she was holding something, something with many colours.

“What is that?” He called out.

She waded out of the water onto the sand and showed him, “Shells.” And there they were in her hands, several vibrant-coloured seashells.

“Why are you collecting seashells?” He scrunched his face in curiosity and confusion.

She looked at him as if that was obvious, “How often do you get to go to a beach?”

“I wouldn’t know,” He shrugged his shoulders at her, “The last time I was by the sea was when Vernon decided to relocate the family to hide us all from the Hogwarts acceptance letters.” He recalled telling her the story once during their fourth year when they were preparing for the first task of the tournament.

She blinked twice, “Wait a minute. You’ve never been to the beach?”

He just shrugged at her question easily, “No.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” She almost sounded like he had betrayed her.

“I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“How is that –” Hermione stopped after a second, and she looked like she was at a loss for words, almost as if she had an epiphany. But finally, she replied bitingly, “Have I told you that I hate your family?”

He snickered as he shook his head, “No.”

“Well now, you know.” She deadpanned.

“Good to know,” He rolled his eyes at her recent change in attitude, he didn’t know whether to like it or not. For reasons unknown, she was a lot chirpier these days, “Anyway…we have other matters on our hands. Let’s cook this fish first.”

She beamed, “You caught one?”

“Yes,” he heartily smiled, “…and it’s my single proudest accomplishment, ever.”

At that statement, she looked at him rather very concerned, “This…, is your proudest accomplishment?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged again as if that was overly obvious.

Tilting her head, she pondered, “Boys…” She shook her head muttering under her breath.

She gave him an exasperated look, so he pulled the cloth he was holding behind his shoulder and he proudly showed her the fish that he had caught. Hermione examined the head of the fish before she checked under the gills, parting it with her fingers.

“It’s a Pollock.”

“A what?” He tilted his head in confusion.

“A Pollock.”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, you know about fishes too?” He blinked owlishly and she giggled, “Don’t tell me you researched about…fish.”

“Yes, yes, hilarious,” She mocked him cheekily, “No, I didn’t research about random species of fish. My grandpa used to take me fishing, a few times Daddy and I went with him.” She did look a little proud about the fact.

“Fishing…, you?” He asked with a fair bit of scepticism.

“What is that supposed to mean?” She folded her arms and looked demandingly.

“I can imagine you doing many things…” He replied but then slightly narrowed his eyes as he amended that statement, “…well if not many things, I can imagine a few things, going to the library, cataloguing, shopping for books…” He stopped for a second and tried very hard to think of more things but came up short, “…more books…anyway, but fishing, I don’t see it.” He deadpanned.

She rolled her eyes at him, “I used to love going fishing with Grandpa.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, “Something tells me it was more about your grandpa and less about the fishing.”

She haughtily huffed at that, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He kept his eyes narrowed in suspicion, “Sure…” He drawled in that knowing tone.

Seeing his look of scepticism, she looked sideways before replying quietly, “Grandpa used to buy me my favourite ice cream. Mum and Dad are dentists, they wouldn’t let me have much sugar.”

“Aha…” He shook his head and pointed, “I knew it!”

“Har…har…” She rolled her eyes.

He then scrunched his face and asked curiously, “Are these the same grandparents from Swansea?” He moved his fingers side to side as he queried.

She shook her head, “No, they’re from my mum’s side. I meant my other grandparents in Durham.”

‘Durham?’ That made him think about his grandparents’ Potter Ancestral home in Durham. Dobby was supposed to be looking for it whenever he could spare some time. He hoped that the search was going well.

He shrugged at that, “Hm…”

“As I was saying, whatever this fish is…we should cook it over an open fire.” When she gave a nod, he went on, “You start filleting it, I’ll start a fire and I’ll come in to help.” With that, he handed her the wet makeshift satchel with the fish in it.

If he hadn’t been too excited and walked away eager to burn something, he would have noticed her look of horror at the thought of cleaning and filleting the fish.

Midday –

It was nice seeing him seem somewhat at ease and enjoying their stay at the beach. It lifted her spirits more than a bit. They spoke about random things from before Hogwarts to useful spells they learned recently.

“…speaking of spells, I think I know what spell it was that you used against those Snatchers.”

Harry stoked the fire and checked the searing meat once and flipped the charmed tong to turn the raw side to the fire, he asked distractedly, “What spell?”

“The golden fire that you used.” She saw him freeze in place for a moment before he turned to look at her.

“You do?”

She nodded with her eyes narrowed in slight suspicion, “I think it’s a variant of the Gubraithian Fire, or perhaps even older magic. The most primal level of fire magic. The only reference I have of it is a phrase that has the word Pyrodamnatus, in translation, it means ‘the fire condemned to hell’, in short, Hellfire.”

“Hellfire…” He muttered and immediately spaced off in deep thought.

With that, their conversation slowly tapered off. A little while later, they were back in the tent having lunch. While she preferred using a knife and fork on a plate, Harry seemed keen on biting into it like a hungry animal tearing off the flesh. She couldn't help but smile at the sight of him, completely focused on the task at hand.

She used to hate seeing Ron’s lack of table manners, but she didn’t mind seeing Harry ignore it. It felt unfair, but she really couldn’t bring herself to care. Maybe because she knew that it was due to his lupine traits that were beginning to show as he devoured the meat. It made her perhaps more understanding of his plight.

Thinking about table manners, she idly risked thinking about Ron for the first time in weeks. She wondered what he was doing in the safety of Bill’s house. It seemed like ages ago when they talked about going to Shell Cottage. That led her to think about their conversation at Grimmauld, about not feeling safe inside it. And the conversation they had behind Harry’s back in the tent about going to hide at Bill’s. It made her feel guilty.

Did he feel safe now? Was abandoning them worth being safe? And she felt the venom from her thoughts. It soured her mood instantly.

Deciding not to dwell on it any longer, she turned to a topic she’s been thinking about, “Harry?”

“Hm…” He looked up at her as he chewed on the flesh.

“I want your opinion on something.”

He kept chewing as he stared at her. He quickly swallowed with a gulp and shrugged, “Okay.”

“Halloween is in a week. I think we’ll be safe here till then.” At the mention of Halloween, he shifted a little. She knew that Harry has always regarded Halloween as an unlucky night for him, with good reason, but she felt that an exception must be made, “Would you mind if we celebrated Samhain?”

“Celebrate? Samhain?” He narrowed his eyes in suspicion, “Hm…, what do you have in mind?”

At her hesitation, he urged her, “Go on, out with it.”

She smiled knowing that he’d caught on to her scheme, “I’ve been thinking. Would you be open for an experimental ritual on Halloween night?”

He swallowed the last of the food he had bitten as he said, “Halloween is not a good night for us. You know that it's cursed. We’re not safe anywhere, not even here, we shouldn’t be taking that risk.” Harry didn’t look very thrilled with her suggestion.

“I know, I know, but this could be an opportunity,” she prepared her points, “…we’re technically in Scottish Isles, Samhain is a regional festival, we wouldn’t have to rely on the intent of Halloween, Samhain is more targeted, this could work. With enough targeted intent, we can harness the magic from the land below us, strong magic from the closest leyline. If we let this chance go, we’ll have no choice but to wait till Christmas, or New Year to try again. That’s months away. Please, Harry.”

Seeing his unconvinced look, she elaborated quickly, “Do you know why we wizard and witches choose specific special days for ritualistic magic? It’s to…”

He interrupted her as he summarized quickly, “–to harvest the intent of people across the world celebrating the day of the festival. If enough people believe in something common, then there’s powerful intent. And intent is magic. I know.”

She blinked twice and then smiled, “So you were paying attention in class.” She remembered the lecture in the third year, and so did he.

At that, he rolled his eyes at her, “Come on, the only time Binns was worth listening to, was whenever he droned on about something other than the history of magic.”

Her gasp was instant, “You take that back, Harry Potter!”

Harry pointedly ignored her crossness with a smile and went on unconcerned, “What kind of experimental ritual are we talking about?”

Hermione huffed at his cheeky shot and chose not to answer him for ignoring her protest. But he was one step ahead of her, “Fine…” he mouthed and shrugged before he went back to his lunch, ignoring her again. It grated on her nerves that he had turned her technique back on her and was amused by her fuming, he just knew her too well.

She wanted to try the ritual, so she answered him after a moment of silence, “I’m sure that I can devise a ritualistic way to make the Animus spell work permanently in one attempt.” Her subdued tone made him look back at her.

“Are you sure it would work, or are you saying that we need to try and see if it could work?”

And that’s the part she was worried about. She didn’t know if it would work until they tried it. She had it all figured out in theory, but nothing ever went smoothly whenever theory was put into practice. There was no guarantee that she could give him anything beyond theory.

“Somewhere in between the two.” She pursed her lips and grimaced at the fact that she couldn’t give him a guarantee.

He frowned in deep thought, “And I’m assuming that you want me to be the test subject?”

She hesitantly gave a nod of ascent. After that, he didn’t say anything. They just ate in silence. When lunch was over, he stood up saying, “I’ll think about it,” then he made up some excuses and went outside, picking up Sirius’s trunk, probably to work on the bike.

Evening –

She wanted to try the ritual, and Harry wasn’t convinced. Well, she hadn’t given him a convincing argument. To her, this was just like every other time she had to coerce the boys into doing something they weren’t interested in doing. She needed to come up with a better, more detailed proposal to convince him. And now that she had a goal in mind, she was trying to think of a way.

In the past, she had always managed to convince them to listen. However, this time, she underestimated Harry’s aversion to Halloween. While she didn’t blame him, he had after all lost his parents on that night, and had many misfortunes on that night in the following years, so there were bound to be some strong feelings. She understood that, but she also really wanted him to be a bit more open-minded about this ritual.

As she was busy ruminating, when she heard a sudden rumble in the distance, at first, she thought it was thunder, which felt odd, but then the second time she realized that the sound was too sharp and repetitive. “VROOM!” Already having an idea what that sound was, she stood up and peeked outside through the flaps and saw Harry standing ready to mount the bike. He looked up and gave her a grin before he grabbed the handle and revved the engine. The noise echoed across the beach, the wind carrying it out to sea.

“What on earth are you doing?” She hurried out, noticing that he was wearing the leather battle armour that Sirius had been making, just the body armour without the vambrace, gauntlet, or gloves. Which could only mean that he was about to fly on it.

“I’m going for a ride.”

“Now? Why?” She almost screeched, “We’re trying to keep a low profile.”

He gave her an obvious look as he gestured to the empty beach, “We’re on a remote island in the middle of nowhere. Look around, who’s here to catch us?”

“That doesn’t mean it’s wise to joyride on the beach.” She tried to reason.

He shrugged unconcerned as he tightened the leather gloves that looked like the ones, he used to wear during Quidditch, “Sirius wanted me to have this flying motorbike, and he was planning to take me on a trip to the beach. I’m here, the bike’s here, and we’re on a beach. This will have to do.”

With a jump, he got on the bike and rolled it down the centre stand using the momentum from his body weight, landing the bike’s tires on the ground. He stood in balance with his legs rooted in the sand on either side.

She huffed and folded her arms at him and he paused for a second as he gave her a look, “Please, don’t look at me like that.”

“We have literally a thousand better things to do and you’re about to joyride on that.” She shot back.

Harry’s expression faltered just a bit, “I don’t know when I’ll get a chance to fly like this again. I’m taking this for a ride.” He replied stubbornly.

“You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Harry just shook his head, “I’ll be fine. You’ve seen me fly it before. I didn’t crash then, and I was riding it for the first time, what makes you think I’ll crash now?”

She grimaced, but said nothing, finally, he looked at her with a knowing grin, “I’ll tell you what, get on with me, we can go for a ride and when we get back, we can discuss my participation in your ritual.”

Her eyes widened first, then it narrowed, “Absolutely, not!”

Harry callously shrugged at her response, “Your loss…”

She hadn’t expected that. With that, he tapped the tip of his wand on his specs and it morphed into his Quidditch goggles that covered his eyes entirely. She watched as he slid the wand into his pocket and grabbed the handlebar with both his hands and stretched his body back and forth while still holding onto it. It seemed like he was trying to get a sense of balance. “Vroom!” He revved again, the tire in the back sent some sand flying into the air, and she had to take a step back to avoid it falling on her.

It was a quick decision, just as he was about to take off, she spoke up, “Wait, wait, wait!” She approached closer.

He turned to look at her as though she was interrupting him, “What?”

“How sure are you that you can fly this thing carefully?” She asked unsurely.

“If I’m good at anything, it’s flying. Trust me, I’m born for this…” His words did little to ease her mind.

She looked back at the tent for a second, “But this isn’t a broom.”

He just smirked as though he read her mind, he looked thrilled and unable to hold back his grin, “Just get on. We’ll be fine.”

“Why can’t he enjoy a quiet day in the library?” She mused hopelessly.

She looked at him, then at the bike, at the tent and then back to him. With a heavy heart, she stepped on the footrest and got on the bike. She felt like she was being overly dramatic, but at this point, she didn’t care. She was getting onto a death trap; she was allowed to be dramatic. Wrapping her arms around his midsection as tightly as possible, she held on to him for dear life just as he said, “Hold tight!”

“Tighter than this…?”

And his response followed as he revved the handle, “VROOM!” And the tighter she held him.

And that was the last thing she did before he took off. The bike moved through the sand below, cutting a path through as it sped up. The noise the bike emitted was near deafening. They sped faster and faster on the dry sand that bumped up and down as they neared the rocks.

Her heart began pounding in her chest, “Harry, I change my mind! I don’t want to fly!”

Harry didn’t even pretend as if he had heard her. And then she felt and saw him pull his handlebar upwards as they were no longer touching the ground. Her eyes widened as they missed the rocks below and zoomed faster into the air above.

“HARRY!”

“WOOHOO!”

Her fingers were gripped hard into his skin, and her eyes were rooted on the land that was quickly approaching as they descended in speed. They seemed to be slowing down, but it wasn’t as quick as she would have wanted.

The bike landed back on the sand, with a big bounce, ‘THUMP!’, followed by a metallic thud. Every wobble of the vehicle made her think that they were going to crash and she was about to fly off. And it landed again and bounced, and if she wasn’t holding onto him for life, she was sure that she wouldn’t have remained seated. The third time, she almost felt like retching out the contents of her stomach.

And on the fourth time it landed, the bike didn’t bounce much, and then they were on the sand, slowly moving forward as the bike slowed and slowed to an eventual stop. As the tires rolled to a stop, she sat there stiff as a board while latched on his back.

“WOOOH!” He let out another excited-pitched roar, almost giving her another heart attack. She felt the sudden vibration of his scream in her chest, she felt her ribs rattling at that, but it did shake her out of her stupor.

Stiffly letting go of him, she got up from her seat, and on shaky legs she landed back on the beach, all the while trying to get her heart back under control. This was the last time she would ever get on anything he was about to fly, she promised herself.

“Driving on the sand is much harder than I thought, we almost fell.” Harry’s voice echoed behind her sounding a little thoughtful, “I had to correct at every slip.”

Ignoring his inane rambling about his driving, she sat on the sand and realized that her hair was like an unruly bush, all her morning brushing was undone in just five minutes of flying. She laid back on the sand, and she felt his eyes on her body.

She looked at him, and found him squinting his eyes at her through his goggles in obvious concern, “Are you alright?”

She shook her head vigorously, “You’ve gone…mad…” She said between breaths.

“Maybe a little…” Harry shrugged unconcerned with a half-grin on his lips.

Raising her hand, she immediately pointed her finger at him, “Now, you owe me…a ritual…!” She said breathlessly.

His grin grew bigger at first, and then he began chuckling at her. Soon, he was laughing as he nodded in agreement, “Okay.”

Halloween –

The last week had gone by in rapid preparation for tonight. They melted seashells, sea salt, and sand to mould black glass candles. He had to trim down his hair, beard and cut his nails, and mix them to concoct a gooey liquid to draw the ritual circle on the floor. They spent the entire day yesterday drawing the ritual circle with immense care since the circle had to be perfect to the tenth of an inch. And once the gooey black liquid had hardened into like a wax, they had carved in a specific series of runes along the entirety of it.

“Harry, it’s time.” Hermione peeked out of the tent and told him.

He gave a nod as he looked back at the sky. It was sunset, and the sky was a shade of orange. It was just past five, and he had this ill feeling in his throat as if something bad was about to happen to them. He kept checking his ring for warnings, but it remained still. And he was disappointed that it wasn’t warning him, but then again, it wasn’t as if the ring could predict the future.

Slowly, he walked back to the tent and entered through the flaps. The ritual circle was three concentric circles connected via three triangles, as the shapes overlapped, it left a small place to sit at the centre of it. And that was where the volunteer was supposed to be seated in. There were 12 black candles around the circle.

Choosing not to rethink this, he stepped into the circle without a word and he sat on his legs at the centre of it. Hermione quickly brought him a large vial of memory potion, “Here – you go.” She eagerly unscrewed the stopper and handed it to him.

He didn’t take the vial, “Can this wait till we know the ritual is actually working?” He pointed at the candles around him.

“Good thinking.” She said, seeming a bit jittery, then she closed the vial again.

The ritual circle was connected to the star chart that observed the Pleiades Star Cluster in the eastern sky. In Celtic sorcery, the Pleiades were associated with the changing of seasons, and their position in the sky marked significant turning points in the calendar, including the beginning of winter.

As the sun goes down and the stars grow visible, if enough intent is collected, all the candles would light itself with magic, and burn in a purple hue. And if all 12 candles are alight, then there’s enough magic for the ritual to begin.

He silently sat there for about ten minutes, waiting for the candles to light themselves, but despite his mental exercises to maintain his patience, he found himself asking, “How long do you reckon this will take?”

Hermione who was curled up in the chair with a notepad, pen, and her wand in hand, looked at him thoughtfully, “Hard to say.”

He looked to the unlit candles again, and he sighed, “Looks like we’re in for a long night.”

Three Hours Later –

Three long hours had gone by, and still, not a single candle was lit. The ritual circle was supposed to be connected to the stars and help detect the intent of the people celebrating Samhain, thus gathering magic, but they had woefully underestimated the process. His legs were aching, he could feel it going numb. The circle was too small to stretch his legs, and he wasn’t supposed to touch the circle he was sitting inside.

Sighing, he looked at Hermione who was still intently going over everything to make sure that she did everything right. He could see that she was starting to doubt her work, “Next time, let’s make the circle a bit bigger.”

Hermione turned to stare at him, and then blinked twice, “Sorry, what?”

“The circle…” He pointed around him, “Let’s make it a bit bigger next time. My legs are killing me – I can’t stretch inside.”

“…”

She stared at him for a few long seconds, “Next time?”

“In case, this doesn’t work.” He clarified.

“It will work…” She replied as confidently as she could, but from her voice, he could tell that she was unsure.

He said nothing in response to that, which prompted her to say, “I think the circle needs more time.”

He nodded at that, “That’s why I’m still in here. We have an entire night ahead of us.”

“But you think it won’t work…” Her words came out a bit standoffish.

He didn’t want to start an argument, but then again, his legs were killing him, “I understand why you wanted to target Samhain and not Halloween. Targeted magical intent is always more effective. But maybe there just isn’t enough intent to go around…”

Her face twisted a little, she seemed annoyed, “Even if it’s only a few hundred people celebrating it, it’s more than enough for a circle this big. But it will take time for the circle to reach out and connect with magic scattered across the world.”

“Hermione, be practical…” He tried to reason with her, “With the war going the way it is, who’s going to have the heart to celebrate Samhain?”

Ever the optimist, she replied a bit subdued, “I think they will.”

“But all 12 candles have to light up before the ritual even begins, and at this rate, it’ll be morning before –”

He paused and blinked, and so did she. Between them was a glass candle, and the wick was burning in a purplish flame. The purple flame flickered a bit before it grew stronger and remained burning bright. He looked around and saw that it was the only candle out of the 12 that was burning. But it was still better than nothing.

“So, you were saying.” Hermione’s cheeky grin made him narrow his eyes at her.

“There are 11 more to go…”

Five Hours Later –

It was twelve minutes past one in the morning. He was sleep-deprived and standing in the circle, standing because his legs were absolutely in pain and shivering. He didn’t want to sit anymore. 11 out of the 12 candles were now alight. One more to go, before the ritual begins.

“I think you should take the memory potion now.” Hermione’s voice echoed behind him.

He did a full turn to see her pointing at the last candle, “We don’t know when the last candle will pick up, but it won’t take long.” She said as she reached over to the table and took the vial of potion.

“Okay.” He agreed.

She threw the vial to him, and he caught it by levitating it into his hand in mid-air with wandless magic. He uncorked it and placed it on his lips, but stopped when he heard, “Wait.”

“What?”

“You should sit down,” she advised carefully, “That dosage is meant to last for a few hours. A potion that strong will make you drowsy, if you keel over the circle, the ritual will be ruined.”

He shook his head, “I’ll be fine.”

“Harry, sit down.”

“Forget it.” He shook his head again, “I’ve been sitting here for hours. My legs are killing me.”

She pouted at him, “You have to sit down.”

“Fine, then give me some pain potion or something,” he asked her and she immediately shook her head.

“You can’t have any now. You’re already drinking the memory potion,” then she pointed at the circle he was standing in, “It’ll interfere with the ritual when it begins. I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to endure this, please…”

Shrugging his legs for the last time, he sat down once again begrudgingly. It didn’t take long before his legs started aching again. He looked at the last candle that was still cold, he expected the ritual to start soon enough. With that, he placed the vial on his lips and upended the contents within it. As promised, he felt a little off-balance very quickly. He rooted his hands on the floor firmly to keep himself from swerving.

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath to reign himself back to control, and that’s when it clicked, maybe he didn’t have to. He opened his eyes to see a concerned Hermione looking straight at him from outside the circle.

“Are you alright?” Her words formed as his vision cleared.

He nodded but stayed silent. For the next minute, he gathered his thoughts as he pondered on his idea. Hermione was quietly pacing as she hoped in anticipation for the last candle to light up and for the ritual to begin.

“Hermione, do I…have to stay awake?” He asked her.

“What do you mean?” She stopped pacing and looked at him oddly.

“For the ritual…” He clarified shortly, “Do I have to be awake?”

She thought for a second, “It would be ideal if you were awake, but I wouldn’t go as far as to mandate it. The ritual would work regardless.”

“…”

He looked around him, “I think there’s just enough space for me here to curl up tightly.” He paused for a second as he took another deep breath, “If I curl up, put me in a Body Bind spell, and then put me to sleep. That way, I don’t have to sit through the pain.”

She looked at him guiltily, “I’m sorry I didn’t make the circle bigger. I wanted the circle smaller because if it’s bigger then it will need a lot more magic, meaning more intent. I’m sorry, Harry, but you’ll just have to sit through it. I can’t use any of my magic on you now, it’ll interfere with the ritual. And if the candles go out, we won’t be able to light it back up.”

Harry thought for a second as he gave her a contemplative look. He wanted to solve this problem right now, this is where he knew that could improvise around the rules of the ritual. And he was confident about it.

“You said, your magic will interfere…” He pointed out to her, “What about my magic? Will it interfere?”

She looked thoughtful for a moment, “I don’t know. I don’t think it will.”

Feeling hopeful, he pursued that idea, “Hand me my wand. I don’t even have to be asleep, just unconscious enough not to feel pain. I’ll put the body bind on myself.”

Hermione stared at him for a few seconds, before she hesitantly went to the table and took his wand, standing just outside the circle, she tossed the wand to him. He caught it and immediately curled up into a fetal position. He lay on his side, careful not to touch the inner circle on any side. He wrapped his right arm around his legs tightly and held the wand in his left with the tip pressed into his neck right under his jaw.

“Petrificus Totalus…” Forgoing the wand movements, he muttered the spell channelling as much of his magic as possible. And that was the last thing he remembered as his body froze.

One More Hour Later –

It was half past two in the morning, and the last candle was still not lit. Sleep kept eluding her because she was too stressed. Harry was still curled up frozen inside the circle with his wand still in his hand, with the tip pressed into his neck. Purple hues from the candle; lit his skin, and it gave him an eerie glow. There was nothing she could do but wait till morning.

She had been so confident in her ability to design a ritual circle, and now that it still hadn’t begun, and with the sunrise so close at hand, all her doubts began resurfacing. If this didn’t work, what was she going to say to him? She knew that he would understand, but his disappointment after going through all of this would be an understatement.

If this failed, would he even consider participating a second time? She wouldn’t even blame him if he didn’t want to. Why did she think that she could do this?

As disturbing thoughts kept circling her head, she paced back and forth, now and then eyeing the last candle right by his toes. She frantically paced and looked at the candle to see a small purple ember, she looked away and kept pacing. It took her a full minute to register what she had seen. And when it did, she froze in her tracks and then slowly panned her gaze towards Harry. Her vision zoomed in on the last candle.

On the wick was an ember of purple light. She walked closer and kneeled before it to take a closer look, being careful not to cross over the line. She watched in disbelief as the candle began glowing brighter like the rest of them.

“It worked.” She blinked, once, twice, and then a small smile bloomed on her lips.

Sitting on her legs, she rubbed her eyes with her hands and smiled fully in joy. Sighing in relief, she took a deep breath, releasing all of her emotions into the air. The ritual had worked, all her planning and calculation were right. It had worked. Meaning, now the circle had built enough magic and was connected to the nearest leyline. The stars the circle was aimed at had collected enough thoughts and intent from the world around them.

Standing up in a rush, she went back to the table and picked up the quill, “Tempus.” She muttered and the time appeared in glowing letters in the air.

“2:47…” She noted it down on parchment, “Nine hours and thirty-seven minutes.” She calculated the time from ten minutes past five in the evening. She added a few minutes as a margin of error and circled it on the parchment. She now had an idea of how much time it would take for her ritual to collect enough magic to begin.

And now that the ritual had begun, she wondered how long it would take for it to end. Would it even work the way she expected it to work? That was the next set of questions she wanted to have answers for.

Feeling a bit more confident, she sat in the chair, watching him lay frozen in the middle of the circle. She smiled thinking that he had trusted her enough to participate in this without any guarantees. She appreciated that trust. But that led her to idly wonder about Ron, if they all survived the war, would it go back to the way it was? It made her ask that question to herself. Did she want it to go back the way it was? Frankly, she wasn’t sure. Her morality told her to want it, but a part of her didn’t want it to go back. She felt a lot closer to Harry than ever before, the last time she had felt this close was when they were preparing for the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. It was nice then, and she had hoped it would remain that way, but after Harry and Ron reconciled, that closeness they shared before had disappeared. This time she hoped that he would be her best friend forever.

With such heavy thoughts clouding her mind, she didn’t even realize her fatigue taking over her as she drifted into a restless sleep in the chair.

Three More Hours Later –

“TTRK – TTRT….” A powerful reverberating crack of noise deafened her.

The thundering boom jolted her awake, leaving a strange ringing in her ear. She almost fell off her chair as she stood up on full alert. Her head spun at the sudden rush. She blindly reached out into the air, and thankfully her hand came upon the edge of the table. She gripped it tightly hoping her sense of balance would return.

Closing her eyes, she waited to regain her balance until her body felt like it stopped spinning. It was the smell of smoke that finally helped stop the spinning, she opened her eyes, only to see that Harry was missing. All the candles had gone off, and Harry’s shirt was at the centre of the circle burning. Her mind went into panic mode as she walked to the circle and hopelessly called, “Harry?”

“Glacius…” She muttered as she shakily pointed her wand at the burning shirt. The freezing spell immediately put the fire out.

It finally woke her up, and she turned to exit the tent in a hurry. “HARRY!” She called out in panic.

“HARRY!” She called again.

She stopped when she saw something a few feet from the tent, it was Harry’s trousers, a little past that was his wand. Accio-ing his wand, she followed in the direction of the wand, pursuing quickly on foot as she muttered, “Lumos.” The blue light helped her see and revealed his footsteps embedded in the sand. As she followed the tracks, she found one of his socks, and the tracks led her to the waves.

The beach was pitch dark and she could barely see a few feet before her with the light, “HARRY!” She called out again. There was nothing but the sound of the breeze and the waves around her.

Standing in the water, she turned in all directions with the light, and she couldn’t see him. Fearing the worst, she raised her wand straight up in the air and shouted, “Periculum!” The red light shot into the sky, lighting the entire beach under it. She turned to her right, and then fully turned the other way, and she saw nothing as the red light above her slowly faded.

She shot a second flare of red into the sky, turned to the open sea and watched intently. And she saw the outline of a dark figure in the dark water when the waves receded. The red light did nothing to help ease her mind. As the light faded again, she lit her wand again, “Lumos.” Using the brightness, she rushed into the water until she was waist-deep in it, “Harry!” All she could see was his head resting above the water, and something that looked like steam oozing out of his hair. The moment she came close to him, she felt a searing heat emanating around him, and it felt nauseating against the cold.

“Harry!” She called him, and he didn’t respond.

Ignoring the heat, she waded through the water and closed the gap between them. She grabbed him by the shoulder from behind as the waves receded and she pulled, “Harry.” He finally turned to look at her like a zombie, and in the pitch-black darkness around them and the blue light from her wand that lit his face, she saw two glowing orbs of deep green staring back at her like a predator. She froze for a second at those unfeeling, cold eyes staring back at her, as though he was possessed. She watched in utter shock at the man who resembled her friend but felt nothing like him. It was his eyes, those glowing green eyes, that had no identity, no sense of self, nothing, just emptiness.

Being hyper-aware of her surroundings, she felt the immediate danger, and that’s what prompted her to notice the sudden change. The wind around them had stopped, the waves subsided, and she could feel magic pouring out of him. It was eerily quiet all of a sudden. It felt ominous as her heart began pounding in her chest. Her hand on his shoulder fell through him, as though he was an illusion. His entire body flickered into a form of translucence for a moment before it flickered back to solid form again.

In a split second, she pointed her wand at his face and nearly shouted her modifier spell, “FINITE ANIMUS!” Feeling the threat, he stood up while fully turning towards her. But when her spell landed, abruptly his eyes stopped glowing and he collapsed face-first into the water. Momentarily, she breathed in relief, her suspicion had been right, the Animus spell was fully active, and she had just deactivated it.

And just like that, the breeze began bellowing and the waves began moving past them, and that ominous feeling dissolved. She immediately grabbed him by his shoulders, and pulled her onto him, hooking her arms underneath his as she supported his weight on her. Taking long steps backwards, she moved against the moving waves. Pulling him back to the shore she conjured a large piece of cloth, fluidly levitating it to wrap around his naked form.

Kneeling next to him, she tapped at his cheek, “Harry, wake up. Harry…”

“Rennervate…” She pointed her wand at him and tried waking him, but it had no effect, “Rennervate!” She tried again, this time more forcibly, but still to no avail.

Dropping both their wands into the sand, she covered her face with her shivering hands, “P-please – wake up.”

Bending over, she placed her ear to his chest and checked for his heartbeat, and it was steadily beating, she hugged him tightly, “Please…” She begged him to wake up.

Chapter 14: Ethermorph

Chapter Text

Mingulay –

‘TT-TDK!’

There was a sudden bang in the distance. It was very clearly the noise of someone apparating nearby. Her senses kicked into high alert. Immediately out of the chair, she pulled her wand and rushed to the tent flap, wordlessly Accio-ing Harry’s wand from the desk on the way out.

The tent was under strong wards, so they would have some time to escape, but the noise sounded close enough that it worried her. How could someone have anyone managed to track them? She stepped out into the wind, looking around frantically in all directions.

Her eyes landed on a figure some fifteen yards away to the left of the tent, it was a woman, she was turned and was looking away from the tent. It took her a second longer to notice the elf standing by her leg. She recognized Kreacher. Feeling a bit more reassured, she paid closer attention to the woman. She had deep black hair, with some streaks of brown in it. The woman turned and she almost doubted herself, because the pale face, strong jaw, and gaunt features had a vague resemblance to Bellatrix Lestrange. Her mind was travelling at immense speeds, with Harry being incapacitated had Bellatrix gained Kreacher’s loyalty? It wasn’t until her eyes landed on the woman’s slightly bulging belly that she recognised she was staring at Tonks.

Tonks was in her original form. Making a wave with her wand, she opened up a doorway on the invisible ward shield around the tent that made them invisible, “Tonks?”

The woman turned immediately towards her and her eyes lit up. She quickly strode towards Tonks. As much as her mind screamed at her to verify the identity, she knew in her heart that it was Tonks.

They both walked over to each other quickly and hugged tightly. Tonks whispered to her, “Wotcher, Hermione.” She could feel her magic, and she knew it was Tonks. It felt so good to see another face out in the wilderness.

“I almost didn’t recognize you!” She exclaimed as she pulled back.

Tonks nodded tiredly, “It takes too much magic to keep appearances altered these days.”

She immediately looked at her belly and understood what she meant by that. Even though, she felt as if Tonks was looking fine now than in her many forms. She wondered why Tonks even felt the need to alter herself in the first place.

“Are you okay to be here?” She asked concerned.

“Yes,” Tonks gave a tiny nod, “It feels good to be outside. I cannot stay another minute trapped inside the house with Mum.”

She certainly understood that sentiment, she had felt unsafe and trapped inside Grimmauld Place when they had stayed there.

“You two picked one hell of a place to hide.” Tonks said smiling, “Far enough that no one can apparate to, and with a beautiful view at that.” The Metamorph remarked fondly.

“Thanks.” She took that as a compliment, “It was Harry’s idea.”

“He does have good taste.” Tonks gazed towards the sea.

She had to give her that, if not for the way things were, she would have considered their current location as a much-needed holiday. But it brought up another question, “Tonks, why are you here? Are you okay to apparate like this?” She gave Tonks’s belly another look, “Where’s Remus?”

Tonks winced visibly at that question before she turned back to face her from the sea, “It’s complicated.”

“What happened?” She asked sounding a bit worried.

Tonks sighed inaudibly, “He asked me not to tell both of you and needlessly worry you, but I think you should know. He’s fine, he’s safe, but he’s hiding. One of the Muggleborns you rescued from the Ministry that day was caught by Death Eaters in France. And they must have learned the details. Since Rem had helped them flee the country after he escaped the Ministry, they now have an official charge against him. They’ve issued an arrest warrant. He’s been in hiding away from me for a few weeks now.”

Before she could process the news or respond, Tonks added, “I’m telling you because you have to be careful using any elves besides Kreacher for a while. They know that you used the elves to circumvent the Ministry’s Anti-Apparition wards. They’ve probably made changes to it by now. Chances are that they’ve already taken measures to monitor the elves’ movements as well.”

She had no words for that; she felt an acute sense of cheerlessness. They will have to be even more careful in how they conduct their mission from now on. Having the elves to help during desperate times was one of their contingencies. And now, they would have to work while assuming that avenue was permanently closed. As if things weren’t bad enough already.

Just when she was adjusting to the new reality of being in the worst position, things just got worse. She idly wondered what they’d done to deserve this, it was so unfair.

Her thoughts were broken when Tonks cleared her throat, “As for why I’m here, well, I brought you this…” Tonks held a small bottle of radiant purple liquid bubbling inside with specks of glimmering blue dust. Some much-needed relief washed over her instantly. It must be the potion that she had asked Remus in her message.

“Is this…?” She whisperingly asked.

Tonks gave a nod as she finished, “Vitalis Nectar.”

Vitalis Nectar was a very potent medicinal potion meant to keep patients who are near death from dying, sort of in a suspended sleep, essentially prolonging their lives. Furthermore, if the patient wasn’t at the urgent risk of dying, then this potion would aid in them recovering quickly.

Like most forbidden potions, this one had side effects as well. Consuming an inadequate dose wouldn’t achieve anything, but even half an ounce more than necessary, the potion would put the drinker in an irreversible sleep. Calculating the necessary dosage was the hard part, but she already had that problem solved. She had done nothing but work on figuring that out for the last two days.

“How did you get it?” She asked as she ushered Tonks and Kreacher through the wards and closed it behind them.

“It wasn’t easy. We checked the usual places but had no luck. And the one we did find in the black market wasn’t sufficiently aged. Thankfully, the Ollivanders quietly inquired and found it for us. They struck up a deal and paid for it, and Kreacher brought it to me.” Tonks explained briefly.

“How much did it cost?” She asked as she entered the tent.

Tonks waved it off, “Don’t worry about it, we’re handling it.”

“No, no…” She immediately went to the stand by the bed and took Harry’s money pouch, “We have more than enough to cover any cost.”

She turned to see Tonks staring at the remnants of the ritual circle on the floor, “Tonks?” She called for her attention.

Tonks looked up and gave her a concerned look, so she added, “Harry emptied the family vault. We have the money. Trust me.”

“400…” Tonks said shortly.

She did wince at the 400 Galleon price, but it was necessary, and she was fairly certain that Harry would agree. The potion was a Ministry controlled substance, so getting a large enough dose that was suitably aged for something other than research purposes was quite hard. There were a lot of counterfeits and those who sold them. The chances of them getting scammed were high, which is why she had sent a Patronus to Remus and had been waiting for him to find it for them.

Conjuring a small bag, she Accio-ed the necessary gold from the pouch and into the bag. And then she sealed the bag tightly before she turned again towards Tonks who was now standing by the bed watching Harry’s still form.

“Here you go.” She walked over and handed it to her.

Tonks took the bag with a nod and then gave her a look, before looking at the ritual circle, “Care to explain?”

She should have expected this, and it didn’t surprise her, “In a minute.” She softly agreed to the Metamorph.

With that, she summoned her potion kit out of her purse. Opening and arranging the items on the table, she picked up a flask of the right size. And then she weighed the flask. She unplugged the cork and poured the potion into a volumetric cup; and placed it on the scale. Adding the right counterweight, she slowly added more potion into the cup until the weight was exactly right. When she had the necessary 7.4 ounces in the cup, she then transferred it into the flask and measured its weight. After making sure she had the right dosage once again, she quickly moved to his bed. She sat next to Harry’s form and placed the rim of the small glass flask on his lips. Carefully upending it, she made sure that not one drop of it was spilt and that he consumed all of it.

She waited for an immediate reaction, but when nothing happened, she started despairing. Placing the glass on the nightstand next to his bed, all she could do was sit next to his bed and wait. Minutes went by and her heart began pounding, she felt it beating against her ribs. Had she miscalculated the dosage somehow? Maybe she overdosed him. Her worries began bubbling up until her eyes drifted towards Tonks who was anxiously watching them.

“How long do you reckon it takes?” Tonks asked her.

“I don’t know.” And she honestly didn’t know the answer, there was very little material to study on the effects of this potion.

She looked at the still form of her best friend once again, before she looked out the tent flaps towards the open sea. The last six days of torture were the most desperate of times she had ever faced. All felt hopeless, none of her diagnostic spells worked, and there were no signs of recovery. And the guilt was like a knife in her stomach. This administering of Vitalis Nectar was a last-ditch idea.

Just then Tonks’s eyes lit up, and she turned to Harry. His entire anaemic pale skin had turned to a light pink hue, she pinched open his eyelids and his eyes were the bright green again. Although, his entire body remained severely emaciated. His chest started moving suddenly at a healthy pace again, and all his irregular breaths disappeared. It was working. And she sighed a breath of relief.

“It’s working.” She spoke to herself and looked at Tonks with a relieved smile.

Tonks smirked back confidently, “Good.”

“Let him rest,” Tonks added.

“In the meantime, how about you explain what happened here?” Tonks pressed for a conversation.

“It’s a long story.” She spoke.

Tonks just shrugged, “I’ve got nowhere else to be.”

“Okay,” She moved away from his bed, “Some tea first?”

“I wouldn’t mind some tea,” Tonks said emphatically, which made her smile.

They were seated outside the tent, on some lawn chairs by a table. The weather was nice today, and the view of the waves was brilliant as always. And knowing that Harry was recovering, she enjoyed Tonks’s company. Her cup of tea remained empty as they discussed their current state of affairs. Tonks listened carefully to her explanation and did not seem impressed. When she was finished, Dora just told her bluntly.

“Far be it from me to judge you two about what you can or cannot do with your time, but this needs to be said.” Tonks paused for a second, “There comes a point in time when you must consider between what you can do, and what you must do.”

“Doing the right thing is more important than doing everything you can…” She listened carefully to the former auror, “Risking your well-being on some experimental ritual isn’t the right thing. It isn’t even the smartest thing.”

She didn’t say anything, she just watched Tonks unsurely. It felt very odd to hear Tonks of all people taking a reprimanding tone with her. And she could see that she had picked up on how it sounded.

“You…just…”

“Not a word.” Dora pointed her finger and warned her as she smiled back, “I heard it. It’s the books on Motherhood that I’ve been reading.” Tonks placed the blame on the books to justify her newfound sense of responsibility.

“Did this ritual of yours accomplish anything besides making him sick?” Tonks’s question seemed entirely reasonable, but she didn’t have an answer regardless.

She didn’t know how to explain it without revealing details of the Horcrux. Especially, not the one in Harry’s head. She was fairly certain that for a few short minutes, the Horcrux had occupied his mind. There was no other explanation for what she had witnessed that night.

“I’m not sure.” She lied, “For a moment before he became sick, he was – almost…intangible. I could see him, but I couldn’t touch him, as though he was merely an illusion. But I don’t know what happened. I haven’t heard, read, or seen anything like that before. Have you?”

She had witnessed it that night and, in the nights, following whenever he had nightmares. He didn’t wake up, instead, he slipped through the bed as though his entire body was intangible. She had some strong suspicions about what his condition meant, but she wasn’t about to divulge that to Tonks now, at least not until she could confirm it herself.

“Not that I can think of,” Tonks admitted sounding a wee bit sceptical.

Tonks’s scepticism morphed into a quiet form of concern, “In any case, please don’t try this again.”

She nodded her head in agreement just to appease Tonks, even if she had plans to improve the ritual the next time. Now that she knew what had gone wrong, she knew what to improve and how to do it. And Tonks didn’t need to know about it. And that brought her to her next question.

“Do you know where I can find some books? I need books. I have very limited ones on hand, and they’re not enough for research.”

“What kind of books?” Tonks asked her curiously.

“Uh – anything…I need a variety of books on various subjects, I just need access to a collection – like the ones in Grimmauld or Hogwarts.” She owlishly blinked while pointing out vaguely.

Tonks instantly turned her head sideways with interest, “Like the ones at Grimmauld?”

“Yes.”

When she gave a nod, Tonks smiled proudly, “You’re in luck.”

“What?” She asked surprised.

Tonks smirked wider, “Mum believes in being prepared, she couldn’t let a unique collection like the ones in the Black Library go to waste. When we heard that Grimmauld Place was compromised, Mum had Kreacher empty all the books in the library and replaced all of them with copies made with the Gemino curse. All the original books in the Black Library are now in our hands. I can get you the books you need.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, “That’s brilliant!” She felt like kicking herself for not thinking of that, but then she remembered that she did think of it. That instantly brought her to another question.

“But – I thought you couldn’t remove the engraved books out of the house? There were spells on it, to keep them secured to the house. Only some relatively new books weren’t enchanted with anti-theft charms.” She asked confused as she remembered Mrs Weasley warning them about it. Needless to say, the Black Family was keen on preserving their collection. And that was why she hadn’t tried to retrieve the books from the library herself. She did make some copies of certain texts, but she hadn’t anticipated the possibility of losing access to the library. If she had, she would have made more copies.

Tonks gave a nod, “A member of House Black can remove it, or have it removed, no one else can. Sirius had Mum and me reinstated into the family tree as a contingency before he amended his Will.”

“Oh…” She muttered to herself, “He did prepare for a war.” She thought about Sirius’s days in his house, and it made sense, the man had nothing but time to prepare. And he had kept himself occupied.

“Make a list of all the books and topics,” Tonks suggested, “I’ll find it for you.”

She mouthed a ‘thank you’ before she nodded, “I’ll send Kreacher with the list.”

“Will do…”

Speaking of the family tree, she remembered the revelation of Bellatrix and Voldemort when they were staying at Grimmauld. She weighed if she should reveal the news about the girl, but decided against it. It wasn’t her place to tell, it was Harry’s, as the Head of the House she knew that he would want to do it.

They fell into a short silence as Tonks finished her cup. She waited a few more minutes before she mustered up the courage to ask.

“What’s happening out there?” She nudged her head towards the sea.

Tonks quickly understood her question. She seemed conflicted but still replied as if she had been expecting the question, “I don’t know. I haven’t left the house in a while. But by all accounts, things are getting worse.”

And she had expected that answer, but she wasn’t ready to hear it. It struck at her heart, “Worse – how?” She inquired softly.

“Well, people are going missing. Too many have already…” Tonks replied equally softly, “Mum went by Diagon Alley a few days back, she was shaken. The number of wandless wizards is nothing like we imagined it. Who knows how many hundreds are in Azkaban? And who knows how many have died.”

“What of the Order?”

“The Order is finished!” Tonks grimaced terribly as soon as she said it, “Anyone who says otherwise is lying to themselves. We haven’t met once since the Ministry fell. Everyone’s being watched.”

There was a short pause of silence, and Tonks sighed, “We haven’t given up. Just hiding for now.” The Metamorph amended her statement.

That’s when she remembered the details in the files that Harry had taken from the Ministry. Tonks was also on the list. She quickly inquired, “That reminds me, how is it you’re here? Didn’t Kreacher bring you the files? It mentioned that you’re under surveillance as well.”

Tonks gave a nod as she poured herself some more tea, “Hestia came by the house last night, she’s posing as me under transfiguration.”

“Oh…” She breathed out in relief, “How is she?”

“Tired of watching the Dursleys, mostly.” Tonks informed her, “And enraged that the Order isn’t taking any steps to fight back. We all are really, but we don’t have many options at the moment, she understands that. With Mad-Eye gone, and Kingsley on the run, morale is low.”

Tonks took another sip but kept her eyes rooted on her. And she felt the eyes on her, so she stared back inquisitively. Tonks seemed hesitant to bring it up, “I don’t know if this is the right time to tell you this, but Ron left Shell Cottage a little over a week ago. Bill thinks that he went in search of you.”

She didn’t appreciate the news. In fact, hearing Tonks even mention Ron only made her feel queasy. All she could think of was the memory of him leaving them that night. The fact that he was searching for them now a month later, did not ease her in any way. The time for him to change his mind was the first two days he was gone when they had waited for him, hoping that he would come to his senses and return. If so, she could have found it in her heart to forgive him instantly.

“In case, he does make –”

She interrupted firmly, “I don’t want to hear it.”

“Hear what?” A gruff voice came from behind them.

They both simultaneously turned to the tent flap to see Harry standing there shirtless, with no glasses holding a toothbrush in his hand. And he had his usual permanent grimace etched on his face.

He looked between the two of them, “Tonks?” He asked looking confused.

“Harry.” She whispered to herself as she stood up.

“Wotcher, Harry!”

Moments later he was gesturing wildly, “Wait. Slow down, slow down…!” She didn’t even realize that she was moving towards him until she saw the panic on his face. She then tackled him into the tent, ‘THUD’!

“Oww!”

She couldn’t believe her eyes. Harry was back on his feet. He looked healthier, he was no longer skin and bones. And he had regained all of his lost muscles, perhaps even gained a bit more, he looked almost like himself from last year. The potion had exhumed him back from the brink. His raven black hair seemed more lustrous than before. And for some reason, he now looked more like Sirius than ever before. And if it weren’t for his specs and that permanently etched grimace on his face, she could almost see Sirius’s naturally haughty aristocratic look. He should relax more, she thought to herself. And on that note, side by side she was starting to see more of a passing resemblance between him and Tonks now. Maybe it was a Black family thing. Her eyes fell on his ring, the Black family ring with the red stone, and she clued in on why he looked more like Tonks.

Her short stupor was broken when he finally pulled on his jumper which almost seemed too tight for him. She finally tuned into what they were talking about, “We wouldn’t know exactly where to look and what to do even if we find them. As much as it pains me to say, it’s not our time to be brave, we have to wait.”

“Wait for what? What exactly has the Order done?” Harry asked with a hint of annoyance.

“Nothing much.” Her candour seemed to stump him, “We’re just conserving our strength and our numbers.” Tonks replied swiftly like a whip, “The trick to winning any conflict is to attack when they least expect it. The Death Eaters will be expecting us to retaliate now. And that’s exactly what they want, to get an emotional reaction out of us. Let’s not be predictable.”

“I’m not asking you to fight Death Eaters. I’m asking you to help all those who are now on the run. Everyone we save is one more on our side.”

Tonks shook her head at that, “We don’t have the resources, Potter.” She seemed annoyed, “The best we can do is smuggle them out of the country for their safety, and we’re already doing that. And even that seems like a failing task nowadays.”

“…”

“We’ll follow the plan Kingsley and Mad-Eye devised. We wait until they are drunk on victory.” Tonks explained carefully. And she was for the first time seeing the Auror training in her, “We’re not giving up, are we? Then I reckon it's fine.”

Harry may not have picked up on it, but she could tell that Tonks was convincing herself as much as she was convincing Harry about the Order’s recent movements.

“I – just…” He seemed frustrated.

Tonks interrupted him, “Look time is on our side. We’re outnumbered, and we can’t do this alone. We'll need help from the public. The longer the Death Eaters are in power, the more discontent people become. If public perception changes, and it will, that’s when we’ll have our chance.”

“Assuming that there’s anyone left by then to fight.” He replied bluntly and Tonks had nothing to say to that.

An awkward silence ensued, and she used the opportunity to way in. Remembering what she was set to do before she spaced off, she went to him, “Sit.” She said as she summoned the chair with a move of her wand.

“I’m fine.” He said sounding irritated, “Aside from being just tackled by you.”

“Maybe, but I still have to examine your vitals.” She said firmly, not having any of his cheek.

With a push from her, he sat down on the chair with a huff, and she quickly went to work, “Corpuscerno.”

He turned to Tonks as she continued her diagnostic spell, “Did you at least check all the files we sent you?”

“We did, all of it. And trust me, we’re making use of it.” Tonks sighed at that, “But keeping the files at home is also a risk. If the Death Eaters decided a sudden raid was warranted, it could incriminate us for being in contact with you. What happened to Rem is proof of that. But we did go through it all carefully. And it's safely stashed.”

Harry looked expectant for more, but when Tonks didn’t add anything, he seemed disappointed. And she could relate to that feeling. One of the reasons they sent it off to the Order was because they thought something in it might mean something to someone in the Order even if it didn’t mean anything to them.

As she kept checking his vitals, part by part, looking for abnormalities in his magic or anything, Tonks began, “Keep in mind. No more house elves. Sending Kreacher to me or Rem is fine, but beyond that, avoid using him. You two have to be more careful now in anything you do. Make some portkeys and carry them with you all the time. One for each would be ideal.”

With a confident look, Harry gave a nod of agreement, while she slapped him on the shoulder, “Sit still.” She continued with the spell while thinking just how much she hated travelling by Portkey.

“I’m fine!” He rolled his eyes.

“What about Riddle?” He asked Tonks, “What is he up to?”

“No clue.” Tonks gave him a serious look, “What do you know?”

He looked thoughtful for a full second, “I know he’s travelling all over Europe for some reason. He’s searching for something.”

Tonks seemed awfully intrigued, “Looking for what?”

He pointed at her first, “She won’t believe me, but I think he’s looking for a wand. A special one.”

“A wand?”

“Have you heard anything?” He asked and Tonks just shrugged.

“I didn’t even know that he wasn’t in the country.” Tonks told them bluntly, “We don’t have the resources needed to monitor you-know-who’s movements. And even if we did, no one would be bold enough to take the job.”

She finally pulled her wand hovering over his head, and took a step back, “Everything looks normal.” She informed.

He gave her a deadpan look, “Like I told you…twice.”

“It’s wise to make sure.” She shot back, and he ignored that.

Tonks stood up, “It’s time I got back.” She said, gaining both of their attention.

“You’re leaving already?” Harry asked surprised.

Tonks just gave a nod, “The longer I’m here, the more difficult it is for Hestia.”

She nodded at that, while he said, “Understood.”

Tonks turned her gaze to her, “No more elves. Use Portkeys in case of an emergency. And get me the list of books you need. I’ll make sure it gets to you. And most importantly, no more rituals.” She ended as she pointed at the circle on the floor.

While she averted her gaze, Harry smiled back and gave an enthusiastic nod. Feeling satisfied, Tonks said, “Thanks for the tea.”

With that, Tonks headed for the flaps and they all said their goodbyes. Moments later, the Metamorph was gone with Kreacher and she was back in the tent with Harry.

As soon as they were inside, his playful expression disappeared and he turned serious, “What happened after I fell asleep?”

Several Hours Later –

For the last few hours, they had discussed everything that happened that night at length. And after reaching an impasse, they decided the only way to move forward was hard research.

Hermione had sent the list of books she needed to Tonks, and Kreacher brought the requested books to them. They went through every topic related to the effects that Hermione had observed when he woke up as the ritual ended. While he only had glimpses of memories of that night, she had written down quite a few details.

And after hours of going through everything, they finally had a working theory. He stood behind her and stared at the page she was pointing at, “Ethermorph?” He murmured.

“This must be it.” She told him confidently as she pointed at a specific passage, “The effect fits.”

"The enigmatic phenomenon, hight 'Ethermorph,' signifies a profound and mystic transmutation by which a practitioner, through the esoteric manipulation of ethereal forces, achieves the faculty to transition seamlessly betwixt corporeal and incorporeal states, thus transcending the limits of solid matter and entering the dominion of ethereal and transcendental existence." He read it out loud, and she kept looking at him expectantly.

It took him half a minute to fully grasp what the old tome was saying about his condition.

“Is this even possible?”

She bit her lips and gave him a look that said ‘maybe’, “Apparition is possible. Possession is possible. Astral Projection is possible. I wouldn’t say much of anything is impossible these days.”

She was right. And he did remember how it felt when Voldemort had possessed him by becoming a part of his body, by becoming dark magic itself. And Voldemort didn’t have a physical form when he did that.

“Perhaps…” He was hesitant, to say the least, “How come we’ve never heard of or studied about an ability like this?”

She gave him an obvious look, “Metamorph wasn’t in our syllabus either, the only time we ever got any information is when we asked a professor or Tonks. This is an even rarer ability, there are only a handful of examples in history, furthermore, it’s an inadequately recorded and an improperly classified one at that.”

He scrunched his face in both confusion and surprise, “How did you know to look for this – I mean…in these books? And what do you mean by improperly classified?”

“Prefects can request special passes to the Restricted Section.” She informed him, “When we met Tonks, I was curious. When we went back to school, I looked into all the special bloodline abilities. And I’ve done nothing but ponder on your condition the last six days. I vaguely remembered reading about something like this, and that’s why I knew I needed this assortment of books.”

“And as for the improper classification…” She turned a few pages, “Even with all the examples being from pureblood families, the magic is so obscure that…” she paused for a second as she found the right page and passage, “…it is classified as ‘alike to Goblin Magic’ or perhaps even a malediction.” She pointed at the passage.

“And that means…” She passionately said, “They don’t know how to classify it. It fits nowhere in the middle, it isn’t an Animagus or Metamorph, and the only reason they considered it a blood malediction is because all those who had it were born with it, were ill all their lives and died before the age of 25. The reason it was argued that it may not be a malediction is because there are no cases of their descendants or siblings having the same, and the ability itself hasn’t resurfaced in anyone since 1818. So, it cannot be definitively said that it's inheritable by blood alone. It fits nowhere.”

“Okay…” He dragged, “If this fits nowhere, how is it related to the Black family?”

“Glad you asked,” Hermione picked up a brown leather-bound book and started flipping through the pages, “This!” She said as she pointed at a picture of a young girl.

“Calpurnia Mulciber…” He read the name and muttered, “Born 1804, died 1818.” And that meant she died at the age of 14.

She then showed him the previous page, “She was the last known Ethermorph. Look at the name of her mother.”

“Rowena…Black.” He read it.

He stared at the Black ring on his hand, “So you’re saying that the blood on this ring could have given me this, but you don’t know for sure.”

She seemed hesitant but nodded, so he said, “I don’t even remember it happening.”

At his obvious scepticism, she added, “You just fell through the bed two times in the last 6 days. And you had sand on your skin both times when I levitated you back up. We’re on a wooden floor, where did the sand come from, if not from the beach below? That means you fell through the bed, through the wood and touched the sand before you shifted back up.”

She then pointed at the mirror by her bed, “Take a look of yourself in the mirror. Tell me, you don’t see a resemblance to Sirius.”

He smirked at that, “A slight resemblance.” He was rather proud of that; it gave him a sense of being closer to Sirius.

“It must be from the ring.” She replied with utmost certainty, “There’s no other plausible explanation.”

He once again stared at the ring, especially at the stone, “If this is from the blood –” He paused for a moment, “Brittleskin did warn me about a blood malediction when he gave me the ring, you know? While I knew the power of blood, I didn’t really expect something like this would awaken in me.” He told her.

She shook her head at him, “I’m not saying that it is some curse…”

“I know, I know, you’re just implying that it could be.” He admitted tiredly, “It just doesn’t bode well, does it?”

“…”

He walked back around the table, facing her as he held the edges of his empty chair, “The only way to definitively prove this theory of yours, is to use Animus. And then we don’t have to guess if it's this ability or it was some accidental magic, we can know for sure.”

“I agree,” She replied quickly, but then she shook her head, “Don’t do anything now. Give it a few days and then we can try.”

“I feel fine.”

“I know you do.” She instantly retorted, “But let’s not stress the body too much.”

He gave her a weird look, “The body?”

“I think, I know why you became ill after the ritual…” Her lips thinned as she looked contemplative.

She pinched the bridge of her nose and scrunched her eyes for a second, “When the spell is active, your body is overheating, you don’t know how to self-regulate the heat.” She explained carefully, “And that’s why as soon as you woke up that night, your clothes got on fire, and why you instinctively went to the closest body of water, to cool yourself down. It was your instinctive need for self-preservation kicking in.”

“Fight or flight.” He surmised and she smiled.

“Yes.”

At his pensive look, she took a few seconds to find the words, “More than that, when you were using the spell, I think you were burning through your magic at an accelerated rate. When your magic started running out, your body needed to generate more to keep the spell active, so it converted nutrients and then your body fat, eventually even breaking down your muscles. And the spell was only active for a few minutes. Those few minutes of exposure stressed your body to the limit.”

He interrupted her, “In other words, you think I need to refine my control over it. More stamina, more magic, more everything…” He stated and she gave a nod.

“Precisely…” Hermione agreed and looked rather impressed with him as she continued, “You just woke up a few hours ago. You’ll need a few days before you’re at full strength. And then we can try it. I need at least some time to observe and note down my observation of the full effects of the spell.”

“Understood.” He shrugged as he agreed with her.

“…”

“I’m hungry.”

“We just ate.”

“I know,” he shrugged again as he took his seat, “…but I’m still hungry. I have this urge to want to bite into something sturdy and feel it break.” He said baring his teeth. She gave him a slightly disgusted and intrigued look at his statement.

He leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling of their tent, while she went back to perusing the number of books spread across the table. He then looked through the flaps at the sea outside, it was almost nightfall.

“I think we should move.” He suggested to her, “We’ve stayed here long enough. Safe as it may be, we won’t find any more Horcruxes from here.”

“I concur.” Her voice resonated in his ears, he looked at her as she added, “We’ll move in a few days.”

“Where would we go?”

As simple as a query it would seem to be, he had no ready answer. After their run-in with the Ministry, they had been so worried and panicked, in a state of constant crisis that they had no real initiative to look for more Horcruxes. But now, they were finally once again feeling rested enough to hunt again.

“Anywhere…” He said, and seeing her look, he sighed, “I know you’ll disagree, but I think one of the Horcruxes is in Hogwarts.” He said to her.

He expected immediate pushback, but strangely nothing came. Surprised, he stared at her until she felt his eyes and looked back at him. They stared at each other for a few seconds, and finally, she squinted. It took her a few moments before she slowly said, “I agree.”

“What?”

“I said, I agree…”

He sat up straight, “You do?”

“Harry, you know Riddle better than everyone – he’s literally in your head,” Her voice and expression just oozed with worry and concern, “And I think, Dumbledore factored that in as well. Even if rationally, I think the Dark Lord would not let one of his Horcruxes remain in Hogwarts right under Dumbledore’s nose, where it could be found, I feel compelled to agree with you on this.”

He waited for her to continue, but she didn’t. Her change of opinion on this matter was surprising, to say the least. He weighed on what he wanted to say for a few moments before he replied.

“Hermione,” He had to explain, “The Horcruxes are not a rational thing for him. It’s entirely personal. He loves only himself, and nothing more. He will kill anyone, and sacrifice anything for his survival. Trust me when I say that it’s deeply personal. Keeping a Horcrux stashed in Hogwarts, a castle that’s under Dumbledore’s protection would be the ultimate insult. And he loathed the fact that he had to respect Dumbledore’s power. He didn’t want to, but he had to. And he would want to feel superior knowing that he managed to deceive Dumbledore. With his twisted sense of humour, that is something he would do.”

She listened to his explanation but said nothing in response. She closed the most immediate book in front of her and paused for a long minute before she responded, “That may be, but we still can’t go to Hogwarts.”

“We will have to go there at some point.” He agreed that going to Hogwarts now was suicide, but it was an eventuality. While he was confident about finding a Horcrux in Hogwarts, he wasn’t a single per cent confident that they could sneak in undetected, or even survive an encounter. And even if they got in undetected, where would they even begin to look?

“Eventually, we will.” As if she read his thoughts, she asked him, “And when we do go, how will we find it? Where would we look, and what would we even be looking for?”

All of them were valid questions, “We have the locket. And that’s the one related to Slytherin.” He said and she gave him a nod, “We don’t know where the Hufflepuff’s cup is, it could be the one in Hogwarts. Or, it could be something related to Gryffindor or Ravenclaw.”

Hermione stared at him intensely, her lips curled in deep thought, “Okay, then we do this by elimination. The only way to know which one is in Hogwarts is to find one of the two remaining ones.” She surmised.

“Yes.” He agreed.

“Then we’ll leave the one in Hogwarts for last; after we find the rest!”

“Me and his snake will be the last.” As soon as he said it, she glared at him.

“The snake will be the last then. And whatever we find in Hogwarts will be second to last.” Hermione fired back, “We are finding a way to remove that thing from your head. Don’t you forget it!”

“Okay, okay…” He placated softly. She huffed at him.

She kept glaring at him, but her voice remained calm, “We still don’t know how to destroy it. The locket’s immune to most spells. I’ve tried almost everything I can think of.”

“I’ll conjure a Killing Curse.” He offered to her. He was fairly confident that he could more than muster up enough hatred to kill a piece of Tom Riddle.

Her lips trembled, and she looked conflicted to put it lightly, “The Killing Curse is a last resort, Harry.” She paused for a second, “And we don’t know if it would work.”

“There’s no counter-curse for it. And the locket has a piece of someone’s soul anchored to it. It can be considered a living thing. It will work.”

Her conflict only seemed to grow, “Let’s not go there yet. There must be another way.”

‘We will find another way.’ It went unsaid but that was their collective stance on the matter.

As much as he wanted to kill a piece of Riddle, he didn’t want to fight her on this. He understood her conflict. The Killing Curse was a clear line they had yet to cross. It was an intentional act of malice. And knowing what they knew about Horcruxes, Hermione was hesitant about crossing that line, even if he felt it would become necessary soon. Besides, they were in no hurry. He had faith that they would find all the Horcruxes and destroy them all. It was only a matter of time. And time was the one thing they had enough of.

They sat in silence for the next few minutes. He once again leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling for the tent. He didn’t know how long he stared into the space above. So many thoughts circled in his mind. It was Hermione’s yawn that broke him out of his trance, he looked at her stretching tiredly. It immediately made him yawn as well.

“Let’s get some rest. We’ll pick this up later.” He said and she agreed eagerly.

With that, he stood up and headed for the kitchen sink. He was still hungry and he could cook something for himself. It was his lupine instincts, he wanted to eat something hard and chewy. While Hermione headed for the bath to freshen herself up before bed.

Beach –

Hours had gone by and it was pitch black outside. Hermione was fast asleep and he knew what he had to do. He created a small circular pit in the sand and built a barrier around it with stones. He transfigured some of the stones into wood before he set them alight. And now, he had a small campfire on the sand. It gave beautiful texture to the landscape around him, the sand, the waves, and the most mesmerising stars above.

He sat on the cold sand, next to the warmth of the fire. Pulling out the vial of potion from his pocket, he stared at it. This was the potion, Tonks had brought that had essentially revived him, as Hermione put it. Vitalis Nectar, she called it. He might need it.

He took a few deep breaths and firmed his heart, mustering up his resolve. Slowly lying down on the sand, he stared at the heavens above, it truly was mesmerising. He was never one to plan out the events of his life. He preferred taking action far more than just theorizing about it. That’s where he differed from Hermione, and that was one of the many things he connected with Ron. He was born to fly, not run.

He felt it, his magic, he closed his eyes and pulled on it as he whispered to himself, “Animus!”

For a split second, he felt nothing and then it happened. As the spell became active, every inch of his skin felt electrified, and he felt an annoying sting under his bones. But when the pain subsided, he felt it, the wholeness of it. His mind had opened, and expanded, like an eye at the centre of his brain, he could see with magic. It was as if all his senses had expanded in every direction. The wind, he felt it as it changed half a hundred yards all around him. His attention changed to the water, he felt everything in the water, the cold, the warmth, even the life swimming in it. It changed again, to the crabs on the sand, the earth below rumbled slowly in rhythm to the waves, and he felt it pronounced in his ears.

He opened his eyes and he saw colours as he had never seen before. So many vibrant shades and mixtures, it was unlike anything he had ever seen. The heavens above gleamed beautifully as he saw the entire night sky glow in a shade of blue and black, it was so light. A true sight to behold.

His breath grew ragged as his vision blurred. He instinctively broke his gaze and unfocused his eyes as he peered deep into his magic. Like a whip, suddenly his senses magnified inwards into his body in ways he didn’t even know was possible. He noticed that his body was emanating heat. His body felt so hot, he didn’t even need the warmth of the campfire he had built. With the heat, he was draining his own magic.

Raising his hand above his head, placing it before his eyes that kept shifting between the night sky and the centre of his palm, he focused hard until he was fully staring at the creases of his hand. Closing it into a fist, he brought it close to his face. Closing his eyes, he placed the fist on his forehead. Like a switch, he felt the control slip back into place. He had it in his hand.

He breathed normally once again. And he felt the flow of his magic become normal again, magic was no longer draining, but he could tell that much of his magic was already spent. He could feel it. Like fuel, his magical reserves were near empty, and he could feel himself running on fumes.

His focus shifted to the mark on his forehead. For a second he felt nothing, but then he saw it. The magic in the mark was so different from his magic, stronger, more sinister, darker, it had malice. The sharper he focused on it, the more he understood how interconnected it was to him. He felt a sharp pain deep inside his head, he grabbed his forehead and squeezed as if that would alleviate the pain.

It took him half a minute before he acclimated, but he managed to ignore the pain and sit back up. It felt like a monumental effort, every bone in his body ached as if he had played Quidditch all day. As he sat up, he realized that his heart was beating out of his chest. Focusing one last time, he pulled on his magic and whispered, “Finite!”

It was like falling off of a cliff and landing not on the ground, but back in reality. He instantly breathed harder and realised just how unnatural it was for him to be trying to breathe slowly when his heart was absolutely pounding in his chest, enough to make his ribs rattle. His heart felt like it was ready to burst. Pain bloomed in all parts of his body, but the agonising ache in the pit of his stomach and his brain was beyond bearable. He held on to his consciousness as desperately as possible.

Minutes passed by very quickly and everything slowly returned to normal, as the pain dulled and the heartbeat slowed. He did feel feverish and his throat was beyond parched, but the body pain faded away, although the world seemed awfully darker than before. Perhaps because he now knew how bright it could be under Animus.

“f*ck.” He muttered to himself as he held his head, ‘This will take some getting used to.’

He could see himself mastering this spell. It was difficult, but not impossible. It would take a lot more training and more effort, however, he knew it would be worth it. Because he felt power underneath it all, a chance at real power. Suddenly, surviving a battle against Voldemort no longer looked impossible. Not at all. Hope. It felt like hope after all.