Harry Potter: The Final Year

Chapter 3: Questions

The mistress of the manor sat waiting for Dumbledore's arrival. Hermione was lying on the bed twitching horribly. The woman dabbed a white cloth soaked with a cooling potion on Hermione's brow. It was then that she noticed Hermione's necklace shimmering from its place under her shirt.

Such a strange figure, and such a strange black metal.

Please, Dumbledore, move quickly, she begged inwardly, returning her thoughts to Hermione. I cannot save her alone.

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Dumbledore was coxing his black mare to move faster. Camille was getting ahead of him. Of all the places to have protective barriers surrounding its perimeters, Hermione had ended up in this one.

Because of the powerful protection surrounding the estate, no witch or wizard could apparate even the smallest distance into the estate. Horseback was the quickest way to the house.

His robes were snapping in the wind behind him. It had been a long time since Dumbledore had been atop a horse, and if it weren't for the circumstances, he may have enjoyed it. His mare soon caught up with Camille and the rode side by side for several minutes. Eventually coming over a hill, the manor was within view.

As if fueled by the sight of home, the horses quickened. The two magicians were at the front door within minutes. Dumbledore dismounted quickly and rushed into the house.

The mistress heard the door crash open and left the room to meet Dumbledore. To anyone else, Dumbledore would have only seemed determined, but to this woman, he was anxious and extremely worried.

“Is she safe?” he asked her as she walked through the wall.

“She is alive, but only just. Quickly, Albus, she is fading fast,” the French woman told him.

“Somehow I knew that she would be with you, Aria,” Dumbledore told her as they walked through the wall.

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Number Twelve Grimmauld Place had never been so full of people. Witches and wizards from all over Europe, and America filled the main floor. Yet there was nothing above the sound of a whisper in the entire house. No one wanted to miss any sign of Dumbledore, whether it was he himself or news from him.

Harry and the Weasleys were sitting at the far end of the dining room table not saying a word. It had been hours since Dumbledore had left with the French woman, Camille. Where had they gone? Who was this `mistress' that Camille had spoken of? When would Dumbledore return?

“She will need your `elp to save `er”

That statement had haunted Harry and Ron since Dumbledore had left. They had both quietly discussed the possible meaning of the statement, but however they tried to delude themselves of the truth; they couldn't get away from it: Hermione was in a real danger of dieing and neither of them could do anything about it.

Harry felt horrible. First his parents, then Cedric in his fourth year, then Sirius two years ago. Why must everyone he loved or cared for be taken from his life? But if Dumbledore could do nothing, Hermione would be the next one torn from his life. He felt as though he was going to be sick and it didn't help that the icy feeling around his heart wasn't going away. Even the possibility of not having Hermione to count on in their last year at Hogwarts, or anytime, made his head spin. He knew that Ron was taking it hard too. He glanced at Ron, who looked miserable.

Ron was mentally beating himself over the head. If only he had pressured Hermione into accepting Ginny's invitation to stay at the Burrow for the summer. She wouldn't be in the same situation if she had been there. Hermione was like another sister. She was there all the time. He could always talk to her about most anything, and she was always there to listen, even if they did argue a lot. If she never came back, Ron would never forgive himself.

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Camille was sitting in the large kitchen slowly sipping tea. It was the only thing that could calm her nerves at the moment. She knew the Dumbledore still believed that she was lieing to him when he had first come looking for the girl.

In truth, she had lied. She had heard of the call for help in order to find the young witch that was now in the house, and she had known where her mistress had gone. But she would never lie to Albus Dumbledore about the girl not being there when she was. Even if her mistress had forbade it, Camille would have faltered under the powerful gaze of the Headmaster of Hogwarts, and told him the truth.

The French woman could only hope and pray that her mistress and Dumbledore could save the girl. If the two most powerful beings in the world could not save her, then no one could.

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In the hidden room the only evidence that any magic was being performed was the constant whispers from Dumbledore and the mistress of the house.

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Almost six hours later, Camille awoke in the kitchen to find a large red bird staring at her through penetrating black eyes.

A Phoenix was standing on the table quietly singing to itself as it stared at her. Startled by its appearance, Camille slowly stood up and backed herself away from the creature.

“Have no fear of Fawkes, Camille,” came Dumbledore's voice from behind her. Camille spun around to meet him. “He is here because I called him here.”

Camille looked upon the wizard with sorrowful eyes. He looked as though he had aged a hundred years. Whatever the two had done to the girl had certainly taken its toll on him.

“Is ze girl going to be alright?” she asked him. He nodded weakly.

“If there had been a delay of three or four minutes, there would have been no hope for her,” he said as Fawkes hopped on his forearm. “Take this to Minerva, my friend,” he told the bird as he handed it a small roll of parchment. With small nod of understanding, the bird disappeared with a loud crack.

“Dumbledore?” a woman's voice called from the main entry. He left the kitchen to meet the mistress.

“Yes?” The woman was quickly wrapping herself in a black cloak.

“I will return shortly. I must ask you to stay `ere.”

“You should not travel alone Aria,” he told her.

“I can take car of myself, Dumbledore,” she said almost teasing. “If anyzing `appens to `Ermione, you will need to be `ere, Albus.” He nodded in reluctant agreement.

“Where are you going?” She pulled her cloak tight and turned her sharp gaze to him.

“Too many zings `append in zat room, Albus. Too many questions zat I do not understand. She should not be alive, and yet she is. Why? I am going to ze only place zat I know I will find ze answers.”

“Be careful, Aria,” he told her. She had not answered his question.

She gave him a weak smile and disappeared through the door. He listened as she called for her horse, and galloped away.

“Dumbledore?” Camille called softly form behind him. He turned around to face her.

“Yes, Camille?”

“My mistress will not return for a few `ours, and from what I gazer from boz of your expressions, ze young witch will not be going anywhere for zat time.” He nodded at this last statement. “You are in much need of rest, Dumbledore. Please, lie down for an `our or deux. It will do you much good.” He opened his mouth to protest. “My mistress would not want you in a state zat would inibit you from moving ze girl.”

“One hour, Camille,” he commanded. “One hour. No more.” She sighed in agreement at the compromise. He needed so much more than an hour, but there was no use in pushing it.

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CRACK!

The house's inhabitants broke out of their trances. Fawkes, Dumbledore's Phoenix, appeared in front of Minerva McGonagall with a small note held tightly in his beak. Fawkes landed on the table and dropped the small letter in McGonagall's hand.

The entire mansions occupants had surrounded the table in hopes of catching what the note's contents were.

McGonagall ripped the note open and read its contents aloud.

“Hermione is recovering. The process will be slow, but she will be just fine. A friend and I will bring her to the headquarters as soon as she can be moved. All Order members are to return to their posts. I will send word to you when we arrive at the headquarters,

Albus”

There was silence following McGonagall's reading. Everyone was relieved. Minutes later someone finally spoke. It was Ritha.

“Well,” she began. “I for one believe that the wait was worth the news.” Many other Order members nodded their heads in agreement. “Lets head off then, hmm? We have our own jobs to do.” She disapparated. A few followed Ritha's lead by disapparating. Others slowly left talking among themselves.

Eventually only Harry, Professor McGonagall, Remus, and the Weasleys were left at the Black mansion.

“Who is `a friend'?” Mrs. Weasley asked Professor McGonagall.

“I have no idea,” she answered as she shook her head. “Albus has many `friends' that I will probably never meet. But a friend of Albus, is a friend to our side of the war,” she answered.

“What do you think Professor Dumbledore had to do to save Hermione?” Ginny asked her father.

He shook his head in response. “I can only imagine, Ginny. But whatever it was, I am sure it was no easy task.”

Harry thought on these words. How bad a condition had Hermione been in? “The process will be slow.” Those were Dumbledore's very words. What was she recovering from? He hated being in the dark about these things. The only thing was, he wasn't the only person in the dark about Hermione.

What Harry had heard from all the other Order members was that even Dumbledore was in the dark about what exactly happened at Hermione's house. Even more so on how she had survived the encounter with the two Death Eaters.

As soon as the rest of the Order members had arrived, Harry, Ron, and Ginny had overheard Professor McGonagall asking Professor Snape for an update.

“Has the ministry found anything new?” she had asked him.

“The scanning crew found out that Miss Granger did not simply disappear after the encounter,” he answered her. `Encounter.' Such a delicate way to put it, Harry had thought to himself at the time.

“What do you mean, Severus?”

“Someone took her,” he had said with no trace of sympathy. McGonagall had gasped. As had Harry, Ron, and Ginny.

“Just someone?”

“There is evidence that a fourth person entered the house and took her. Who or what they are is still a complete mystery.”

Who took her, the way that the second Death Eater died, how she got there in the first place; they were all questions on everyone's lips. Harry could only add to those questions. But his largest concern at the moment, as with those sitting at the dining room table, was if she was truly going to be all right.

“Alright, kids,” Mrs. Weasley began. “Off to bed with you.” All of the teenagers began to voice their opposition. She held up a hand for silence. “It's nearly three in the morning! You all need your sleep.”

“But, mum! Would if Hermione arrives while we are asleep?” Ginny said.

“Dumbledore said that he would contact us before he brings her,” Arthur reminded them. “We will wake you as soon as we hear from him, or acquire anymore information.”

“But…” George had begun. Mrs. Weasley interrupted him.

“I will not have any more argument on this! You will go to bed!” That was the end of it. Harry and Ron were the slowest leaving the room just in case the adults gave away more news. But they didn't.

Ginny was waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs. “Can I stay in your room tonight? I don't like staying in that big room alone.” There were tears forming in her eyes. Harry could see that she was taking this just as hard as he and Ron.

“Sure, Ginny,” he told her. “Just wait until after your mum comes to check on all of us.” She hugged him.

“Thank you, Harry.”

“No problem, Ginny.” She ran up the next flight of stairs and he could hear her shut her door.

“So why are we letting her sleep in our room tonight?” Ron asked him, his voice still glum.

“She misses Hermione, Ron. Besides,” he paused. “She knows that we aren't going to sleep tonight, and neither is she.” Ron nodded in agreement.

“I'm changing before she comes though,” Ron told him. For the first time that day, they laughed.

Mrs. Weasley came an hour later to make sure that they weren't still up talking. As soon as Harry heard her going back down the stairs, he could hear Ginny's light footsteps heading down from the third floor.

“Do you think that Dumbledore will bring her tonight?” Ron asked him quietly.

“I don't know, Ron. I don't really know much of anything at the moment,” Harry answered him.

“No one does. Nothing makes any sense whatsoever,” Ron said. Someone knocked on the door.

“Ginny?” Harry called out. Her face peaked around the door.

“Can I come in now?” she asked.

“Yeah, mums gone,” Ron told her. She slipped in and noiselessly shut the door.

“How did you guys hear about what happened?” Harry asked them. Ron and Ginny glanced at each other in hesitation.

“Well,” Ginny began. “It was sort of weird.”

“What do you mean?” he asked her.

“Well, mum and dad were both sitting at the kitchen table trying to figure out how they were going to pick you up without scaring your aunt and uncle again. Ron and I were in Fred and Georges room trying out their latest invention when there was a really loud scream…”

“It was mum,” Ron interrupted.

“I know that, Ron. I was just about to tell him,” Ginny said a bit annoyed. “Anyway, mum screamed about something and we all ran down the stairs to find out what happened.

“When we got down stairs, mum was crying and dad was sort of in a shocked stupor. When he saw us he handed Fred a piece of parchment. Fred read it aloud.”

“What did it say?” Harry asked in rapt attention.

“Simply, `Hermione's parents have been murdered, and Hermione is missing. Report to Headquarters as soon as you get this.' It was signed Remus Lupin,” Ron answered before Ginny could respond.

“Ron are you telling him this or am I?!” she whispered loudly to her brother.

“Sorry, Ginny. Go on,” he said annoyed.

“Then we came here and Professor Lupin filled us in. I've never seen mum so upset, not since Percy returned his Christmas sweater,” Ginny finished.

“I take it they sent you upstairs to your rooms after Remus gave the information that Dumbledore said was okay for you to know,” Harry said with a small smile. Dumbledore always had two sets of information with every action. One for the official Order members, another for them: the underage-still in school-wizards.

They both nodded their heads. “Everything that we told you when you first got here was everything we had learnt from using Fred and George's Extendable Ears,” Ron told him.

Suddenly Ginny burst into tears. “I-I m-miss her so-so much!” she cried. Ron put his arm around her.

“It's okay, Ginny,” he said trying to comfort her. “We are all worried. And we all miss her. Dumbledore won't let anything happen to her now.” Tears were now running down Ron's face as well. Harry looked away trying to hold back his own he blood became colder with each tear that his friends shed. This was horrible.

“If Dumbledore say's she is going to be fine, then she is going to be fine,” Harry managed to say. He wasn't nearly as sure of this statement as he tried to sound. Even Dumbledore had his limits, but he prayed that this was not one of them.

Please be alright, Hermione, he thought to himself as hot tears ran down his own cheeks. Please come back to all of us.

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Hermione knew that she was in her house, but she had no voice, no sight, and no feeling of body. She was being forced to listen to her worst nightmare.

“Oh, is the little Mudblood angry?”

She could hear Lestrange talking to her real self.

“I am going to kill you.” She could hear herself saying to her parents' killers. The two killers laughed.

“I doubt you could muster the power, or the dark magic behind it, Mudblood. Now,” Lestrange said. “You can come with us quietly or we can force you. Either way you will come with us.”

Hermione could feel herself become angry again. But it was nothing compared with her other self who could actually do something.

“I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!” she could hear herself screaming, her voice full of hatred. There was crashing and more yelling. But Hermione could not see any of it. “STUN HER! STUN HER!” Bellatrix was afraid. A sickening crack, then all was calm for a second.

“AVADA KEDAVRA!!”

The other Death Eater was trying to kill her! She had to do something!

A blinding green light suddenly pierced the darkness that Hermione had been in and she tried to scream but no sound came out. Hermione heard pounding hooves, and white light penetrated the shadows.

Hermione was cradled in strong arms, against a warm body. More feeling was coming to her. She wasn't an observer anymore. She was actually there. She opened her eyes.

Hermione was enveloped in white light. Someone was carrying her. She looked up to see who her rescuer was, but the light was too bright. She had to close her eyes again.

In the darkness of her closed eyes, Hermione saw the Ring gradually appear. Its color was the same as the light that was around her.

Then it turned Blue.

Hermione was running through the forest. Her silk gown and cape flowing behind her. The vision of symbols, still glowing blue, was guiding her along the path. She had chosen her course, and now she had to reach its destination.

Suddenly the ring turned red. Hermione stopped. She could hear galloping hooves. Something was coming for her. She readied herself with her left hand resting on the hilt of the sword. But what came for her was no threat. A white horse came galloping around the bend to meet her. The ring of symbols became a comforting violet. It warmed her vision and she smiled.

Slowing, the horse walked up to her and nuzzled her cheek. Hermione was safe.

Hermione awoke with a fright. Two people were leaning over her. They were whispering spells. One was a woman the other was a man.

Dumbledore.

The two adults stopped their work. Dumbledore's crystal blue eyes were full of relief. He turned to the woman and whispered something. She nodded and left Hermione's visual range.

“How are you feeling, Miss Granger?” Dumbledore asked her softly. She tried to answer, but she had no voice. He smiled weakly.

“Take it easy, Miss Granger. I don't want you trying anything fancy. Blink once for yes, and twice for no. Do you understand?” She blinked once. His smile grew.

“Good,” he said relieved. “Can you feel any pain?” She blinked twice. “Good,” he said again. “Now, Miss Granger, I want you to drink this potion. It will give you a dreamless sleep.” Hermione sighed in relief. She did not want to dream. Dumbledore put a glass up to her lips and she drank the cool clear liquid.

“Sleep well, Hermione,” he told her as he patted her hand.

Hermione started to mouth her thanks when she fell into a peaceful sleep.

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