Harry Potter and the Years of Rebellion

Chapter Twelve

SECRETS REVEALED, SECRETS GUARDED

Once they reached the outskirts of London, Harry found a secluded spot where he could render the Bonnie invisible again. Rather than trifle with traffic controls and late-night drivers, they followed the urban roads from above the rooftops. Neither Harry nor Hermione had much to say. Harry wasn't pleased at being blackmailed into taking Hermione back to London. He was tired and cold from the long ride, and numbed from the longest three days of his life. Hermione was fiercely determined to reach Grimmauld Place. At one point, he lowered their speed; she immediately noticed, and accused him of tarrying.

He set down a few blocks from Grimmauld Place, but maintained the invisibility charm. As they rode slowly toward the house, Harry scouted for signs of undesired company - especially Moody, who could doubtless see through the charm with his magical eye. He circled past the house twice, but only spotted a single person.

Lupin sat on the front stoop, before the black door. Harry waited until they were inside the wards before he disengaged the charm. Lupin showed no surprise. He doffed his cloak, and draped it around Harry. “You must be freezing,” he said.

“No one else is here?” Harry asked.

“No one else was interested in sitting outside,” Lupin smirked. “Dobby is extremely loyal to you.”

“My parents…?” Hermione began.

“At home,” Lupin told her. “Tom and I presumed that you'd come here first. Cordelia hoped we were wrong, of course.”

Hermione shot Lupin a puzzled look. “You're on a first name basis with my parents?”

Lupin managed a wry smile. “Perhaps you should give them more credit for their ability to cope with your circumstances?” he suggested. “They're fine people. A bit too rational to be completely comfortable with us, perhaps, but fine people nonetheless. You certainly seem to have made an impression on them, Harry.”

“I'm sure,” Harry said suspiciously.

“Since your house is not accessible from here via Floo, Hermione, it was agreed that I would decide whether either of you were in any condition to continue riding,” Lupin said. He made a show of looking them up and down, and shook his head. “I think not. Harry, would you please ask Dobby to open the house?”

Dobby let them in immediately. “Dobby is pleased to see Harry Potter!” the house-elf squeaked. “Harry Potter worried Dobby with his instructions. Dobby did not like to leave Mister Lupin out on the stoop.”

Chagrined, Harry said, “I should have made an exception for Prof… erm, for Remus. Unseal the Floo, for now.”

“Dobby will - OH! Dobby wishes Harry Potter a happy birthday! Dobby forgot to give a birthday present this morning!” For a moment, Harry thought Dobby was going to punish himself. Instead he pulled a small and carefully wrapped package from inside his patchwork jacket.

“Thank you, Dobby,” Harry said. In the package was a matched pair of tan woollen socks.

“They're great. I'm… I'm surprised by the choice,” Harry told Dobby.

Dobby looked to his left and then his right, cupped his hand to his mouth, and whispered, “Dobby let Winky choose. Dobby thinks Winky is a bit lacking in colour.”

While Harry sniggered, Lupin asked Dobby, “Would you make up one of the guest rooms for Hermione, please?” He yawned, and said to Harry and Hermione, “I'm knackered. I'll be retiring for the evening.”

Harry wondered, “Don't you want to know what Dumbledore had to say about, erm, things?”

Lupin shook his head. “He and I spoke at length after you left. I'm satisfied - for now.”

“What about Mr. and Mrs. Granger? Don't they expect you to chaperone?” Harry asked

“You're an adult now,” Lupin answered. “You don't need chaperoning… do you?”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other nervously.

“I thought not,” Lupin said. “I'm going to assume that Hermione will sleep in the guest room. Try to manage that by morning, would you? Harry… well, erm, if there's anything you need to… what I mean is… that is to say… you have had a talk, haven't you?”

Hermione turned crimson, and Harry spluttered, “What does that have to do with…Hermione and me?”

Lupin smiled. “I didn't mean to offend. I just… someone had to ask whether a talk was in order.”

Simultaneously, Harry and Hermione exclaimed, “No!”

“As I thought, no need for a chaperone,” Lupin said.

“We just need to discuss some things,” Hermione offered.

Lupin's brow furrowed. “Things such as what happened last night, perhaps?” He searched Harry's face for a reaction, and seemed to find it.

“Harry,” Lupin said, “think very carefully about what you say.” When Harry scowled at him, he added, “I'm not telling you what to do. Just think things through, right? Good night, then.” He slowly ambled up the stairs.

“Dobby did not greet Miss Granger,” Dobby said. “Welcome to the house of Harry Potter.” The house-elf bowed with a flourish.

Hermione chuckled. “Thank you, Dobby. I don't believe that I merit a bow.”

Dobby beamed. “Dobby will most certainly bow to Harry Potter's honoured guest. May Dobby provide some refreshments?”

“Pumpkin juice would be nice - I'm parched,” Harry said. “For you, Hermione?”

She shuddered. “Something warmer, I think. What would you recommend, Dobby?”

Dobby beamed. “Dobby always recommends hot chocolate for warming oneself. Dobby will make it just the way that young Master M -” The house-elf quickly stopped himself, and then added hesitantly, “Dobby knows how to make proper hot chocolate.”

“Bring it to us on the fourth floor, please,” Harry called after Dobby. He motioned for Hermione to follow him up the stairs.

“You'd better not be putting me off,” Hermione warned him. Harry stopped before the door farthest from the fourth floor landing; he knew she would remember what was behind the door.

Hermione smiled. “Well,” she said, “I suppose you can put me off for a few minutes.”

The library was nearly the size of Harry's bedroom. There was one very tall window on the wall to the left of the door.  The draperies were down, and lying on the long reading table that sat before the window.  The walls were lined from floor to ceiling with books of all sizes and colours, and there were rolling ladders on two of the walls.  Near the centre of the room, a lower freestanding shelf held stacks of parchment rolls. 

Hermione's eyes were wide with excitement.  Harry couldn't help but enjoy watching her.  She dashed to the nearest books, running her index finger across spines as she read their titles.  “This is amazing, Harry!  Look - Agrippa's testimony, and I think it may be an original!  And Malecrit's plays, all of them from the looks of it.  Look at this - I didn't know Bagshot had written any other books.  Oh, de Montmorency's grimoire… that will certainly be interesting.  Goodness, this one is very dark.  Oh!  I see what Sirius meant about some of this needing to be binned!  There's no organization, not that I can make out.  I'll need to begin a catalogue, straight away.”

“I think this must be what you'd see in the Mirror of Erised,” Harry laughed.

Hermione's face fell.

“What did I say?” asked Harry.  “I'm sorry; I didn't mean to be upsetting.”

“I get low so easily this summer,” she sighed.  “I was just… never mind.  Sorry.”

“We need to stop being sorry all the time,” Harry said gently.

THUMP!

Harry and Hermione looked toward the reading table.  A chair partly obscured by the pile of drapery had tipped backward and fallen, and the thump was accompanied by a high-pitched squeak.

“Do you think Winky is in here?” Hermione asked.

Harry said, “I don't know,” and dashed to the fallen chair.

Winky scampered out from beneath the chair, and squeaked, “Winky is working!  Winky is working!” She brushed at her apron and shook her head from side to side. 

“No worries, Winky.  Let me right this chair,” said Harry. “Who would expect you to be working at this hour?” 

There was a large folio on the floor next to the chair. “What's this?” he asked as he set it on the table.

“Winky is working!  Winky is working!” Winky repeated, nervously hopping from foot to foot.

Hermione looked at the cover of the folio.  “Winky, were you looking at this book?”

“Winky is working!  It is not my place to look at books belonging to Harry Potter!” Winky insisted.  “Bad Winky!” she added, banging her fist against her forehead.

Hermione wrapped her hand gently around the house-elf's wrist.  “Winky, please stop!  These are my books now, and you may look at them if you like.  This book has lovely pictures, actually.”  She opened the folio and turned the pages, which contained reproductions of a number of Muggle paintings.  “I wonder why the Blacks would have this.  Look, Harry - I've seen that one at the Louvre.  Rembrandt, of course.  I'm not familiar with these three.  They all have a similar look to them.  Same artist, I'd imagine.”

Winky said, “Ver-meer,” then cowered.

Hermione leaned in to peer at the accompanying text.  “Did you say Vermeer?” she asked.  Winky nodded.

Hermione flipped the pages again.  “What about this one?”

“Rubens,” Winky said, still cowering.

Hermione reached out and gently stroked the house-elf's hand.  “I didn't - er, please don't be offended - but the idea of a house-elf reading for pleasure never occurred to me.  Please, Winky, don't be frightened.  No one will ever strike you in this house.  Isn't that right, Harry?”

Harry said, “Absolutely.  Dobby can vouch for that.”

Winky frowned. “House-elves can read. Winky has to keep the larder and follow instructions from the… from Harry Potter.”

“Dobby is here!  Dobby can vouch for what, Harry Potter?”  Dobby entered the library with a tray holding a glass of pumpkin juice and a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

“Winky is working!” Winky cried.  “Bad Winky!”  Hermione gripped the hand she was stroking before Winky could use it to hit herself again.

“Winky was just reading this book,” Harry said.  “She fell out of the chair.  I don't believe that she wanted to be seen.”

Dobby set down the tray, and walked toward Winky until their noses were nearly touching.  “Dobby needs to hear again, please.  Winky was reading this book?  This book, on this table?  Winky was not working?”

Winky squeezed her huge brown eyes tightly closed and nodded up and down furiously.

“Dobby - is - so - happy!”  Dobby enveloped Winky in a hug, then stepped back quickly and instead stroked her cheek.  He looked down to Winky's feet, and squeaked, “Socks!”

“Winky is becoming,” Winky said quietly.

“You will excuse Dobby and Winky,” Dobby said.  “We are required in the kitchen.”  Dobby pulled Winky out the door by the hand.

“Becoming what?” Harry asked after the house-elves had left. 

Hermione laughed.  “You don't think that Dobby and Winky are… you know…?  I mean, if I saw people acting like that, I'd assume they were in love.  Wouldn't you?”

Harry shrugged.  “Why not?  Little house-elves have to come from somewhere, don't they?  Come on, House-Elf Crusader, shouldn't they be able to read books and fancy one other?”

“I didn't say they couldn't,” she protested, “I'm just surprised - pleasantly, of course.  It demonstrates what I've been saying all along, that they're quite capable of being free.”  Harry wondered how Hermione was going to react when she returned to Hogwarts and Dobby wasn't there to pick up all of her hats and scarves anymore.

Harry drank his juice.  “Delicious,” he said, “and there's no one to chase me out for drinking or eating.”

Hermione said with a grin, “I just haven't set the rules yet.”

“It was a brilliant choice that Sirius made,” Harry told her.  “If he'd left this to me, I'd have given it to you anyway.”

Hermione frowned.  “I've let you put me off long enough. There are some things I really need to tell you.  At least, I think I can tell you about them.  Hopefully, I won't turn into a canary.”

“This is about what you signed, then?” Harry asked.

“There's also the letter he wrote me,” Hermione added.

Harry said, “He left me a whole journal, as well as a letter.  I'm afraid to open either one, to tell you the truth.  Perhaps you could help me go through some of what he left me?”

“As long as you aren't avoiding me, Harry,” Hermione agreed.

“Follow me,” he said.

“Is this your room?” she asked when they reached the red door.

“Uh-huh.”  He started to open the door, but she clearly hesitated.

“Sorry,” Hermione said, “it just feels strange to go in.  I know that may seem peculiar.  I mean, I've been in your room here and at the Burrow before, but this is your room in your house.”

“You should at least see it,” Harry offered. “It's completely over the top.”  He threw open the door.

“Harry, it's huge!” she exclaimed, pushing past him to wander around the room.  “You didn't tell me you had a bloody living room up here!  I was imagining sitting on your bed or something.  What's back here…?  Look at this closet; you could park a car in here!  What's the other door, an extra closet?  Goodness - this looks like a tub for six!  You know, I was taking in everything that was said last night, but I just couldn't picture you as being wealthy.  This -” she said, flopping down on the couch facing the fireplace, “this seals it.  Rooms like this are reserved for minor royalty, I think.  That must make you, what - Harry, Prince of Gryffindor?” As soon as Harry's face fell, she quickly added, “Oh! I didn't mean to… I'm sorry. I suppose I'll be tripping over this probation business for a while.”

Harry sat down on one of the armchairs, arms crossed.  “Don't apologise. I have to get used to the idea eventually - whatever it means.” He gestured at the high ceiling. “I told you the room was over the top.  I feel like I'm on holiday, in some ridiculous hotel.  Not that I've ever been on holiday, mind you, or been inside a hotel to speak of.  I've seen them on the telly, though, and they seem like this.”

Hermione stretched out.  “Fine, then.  Next time I stay here, we'll swap rooms.  You go downstairs, and Ginny and I can come up here.  Well, maybe not Ginny.  This is terribly nice.”  Harry withdrew his wand and started a fire. Hermione lay there quietly for a while.

He broke the silence. “You're still cold.” The sleeves of her father's light jumper were pushed up her forearms, and he could see goose pimples.

“You should be colder,” she said. “Thank you for letting me wear your jacket, by the way.”

He went to the closet, and brought back one of Mrs. Weasley's hand knitted jumpers. “Here, put this on,” he said. She ran it through her hands, smiled, and then switched jumpers. She sat with her eyes closed and soaked in the warmth of the fire.

Harry eventually broke the silence.  “I have something to tell you.  At least, I want to tell you.  I just… it doesn't seem like a good idea.”

“I didn't think you'd be the one to speak first.  That's a hopeful sign.”  Hermione sat up.  “Why don't you come over here?”

“I don't know if that's a good idea, either,” Harry said.

“Oh.  Are you… is this about what happened last night, erm, before I left?” asked Hermione tentatively.

Harry said nervously, “We should talk about that as well, I suppose.  The thing I want to tell you, it's been with me a while.”

She asked him, “Is this about the reason you stayed away from us, then? If it is, then of course I want to know. Why wouldn't you want to tell me that?”

He buried his face in his hands.  “Because it'll change everything.  It'll change everything, and there'll be no changing it back.”  He lowered his hands, still looking down.  “If I tell you this, you might never be safe again.”

“Harry,” Hermione said gently, “I think it would be a very good idea if you sat over here.  Please.  While you think about whether you should tell me - well, whatever it is you have to tell - perhaps I should tell you about what I signed last night… if I can.”

Harry reluctantly sat on the other end of the couch from Hermione.  “You're still worried that you'll be hexed?”

She said, “I don't know which would be crueller - hexing me so that I can't tell you, or allowing me to tell you.  I feel the same as you; if we finish this conversation, I'm afraid everything will change.”

Harry swallowed hard, and then said, “Then perhaps we shouldn't be talking.”

Hermione slowly shook her head from side to side.  “I'm trapped at the centre of a bridge, Harry.  Both ends are on fire.  I can go back to where I came from, but the fire is everywhere.  I can't jump over it, and I'll never be able to run through it without burning.  If I stay in the centre, the fire will eventually reach me. As for the flames ahead, who knows? What should I do?”

“What is it with scenarios?” Harry asked. “Fine, then. How high is the bridge?”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled faintly.  “I'm not letting you get off that easily; it's a thousand feet high.  What should I do?”

“We're Gryffindors,” he said at last.  “We go forward.”

Hermione nodded. She sounded uneasy. “Diggle owled everyone their formal copies of the will this morning.  There was a copy of what I signed, as well.  I assume everyone else received the same.”

Harry said, “I don't know.  I have more stacks of paper than I know what to do with.”  He gestured at his writing desk.

Hermione pulled a piece of parchment from the front pocket of her denims. “I had a thought - perhaps it will work, and perhaps it won't,” she said.  “Take it from me and read it.  I won't give it to you, and I won't say anything.”

“Clever,” he said, and she grew pale.  “Are you sure you want to do this?  We can still jump over the side.”

She closed her eyes.  “Gryffindors go forward, right?” she said.  Harry wrested the parchment from her hand, and read it.

 

I, Hermione Granger, solemnly swear that I will help Harry Potter find and experience true love, no matter the sacrifice required, for Harry has known little love and much sorrow. 

I solemnly swear that I will not forsake Harry when others do, knowing full well that such a promise may exact a terrible personal price. 

I solemnly swear that I will lighten up a bit and venture out of the library from time to time, because life is short and the greatest pleasures in life aren't found in a book. 

To honour Sirius, James and Lily, I promise to break at least one rule per month during my remaining time at Hogwarts (Sirius allows that the rules may be minor ones).  

Finally, I solemnly swear that I will play by Sirius' rules tonight, certainly against the better judgment of me and those assembled, and shall refrain from cursing his name until tomorrow.

 

This I so swear before all authority, both civil and supreme, on this 30^th day of July.

 

Signed

Hermione Granger

 

He handed the parchment back to her without a word.

“Harry?” Hermione whispered.  “Say something.  Please.  Your hand is shaking - Harry, please say something.”

Harry closed his eyes.  “He had no right,” he said in a low monotone.

“It felt right to me - it still does,” she whispered.

Harry felt a catch in his throat.  “He had no right to do this to you,” he said more forcefully.  “It's wrong.”

Hermione reached for his hand.  “He did nothing to me. I had to make a choice last night, and I chose you.”

Harry pulled his hand away.  “He asked you to be a human sacrifice, and you said yes!  How could you do that?  How could he do that?  I thought I knew him.  I thought - I thought he loved me.”

“Harry, he did love you,” Hermione said, her eyes pleading. “He does love you.  You have to believe me.  The letter he wrote -”

Harry seized both of her hands and squeezed.  “Did you read what you signed, did you really read it?  The whole thing's about what you're expected to give up on my behalf!  What did it say - `sacrifice' and `terrible price'?  What about you? What do you get from this?  I - I won't let you, that's all.  I won't allow this!”

Hermione said, “It's done, and I don't want it undone,” and a tear trickled down her cheek.

Harry wiped it away with his fingertips, and she shuddered.  “If this stands, it would be like this all the time,” he said.

She told him, “You should read his letter,” and fumbled through her pockets.

Harry pulled away. “If this is how things are going to be, then I can't possibly tell you -”

Hermione's eyes lit. “It's about the prophecy, isn't it?” she said abruptly.

“Where did that come from?” Harry asked, sitting up straight.

“You heard it, didn't you?” Hermione asked. “You heard it before the orb broke.”

“Hermione, I can't do this,” Harry said.

“That's why you hid from us all summer, Harry, isn't it?  You know what the prophecy says, and you don't think that you can tell anyone.  You're pushing me away… no.” She stopped, stricken.

“Hermione - please!” Harry pleaded.

She insisted, “No! It doesn't… Harry, Divination is very flimsy.  Trelawney predicted your imminent death every week -”

“Stop it! Please stop!” Harry shouted.

Hermione pleaded, “Harry, you have to share this with someone. I swear to you that I can handle it!”

There was a knock at the door. “Harry, is everything all right in there?”

Harry spun to face the closed door.  “Remus, I thought you were going to bed.”

Lupin called out, “I could hear you two floors down. May I come in?”

Harry started to refuse, but Hermione said loudly, “Yes!”

Lupin slowly strolled toward the fireplace. He extended his hands toward the fire, palms out. “It's warm in here, isn't it? I should light the fireplace in my room on occasion.” Without turning away from the fire, he asked, “Let's talk about what you wanted to stop, Harry.”

“He knows the prophecy,” Hermione said, “I'm certain of it. It must predict his death, because he's pushing all of us away and he's afraid to share it.”

Lupin sighed. “It's a bit more complicated than that,” he said as he continued to warm himself at the fire.

“What are you doing?” Harry protested.

“You don't want to tell me, because knowing would make me a target. Is that it?” Hermione asked Harry. “Besides being Muggle-born, I'm already closely associated with you. Why do you think I've been cooped up with my parents for most of the holiday? I'm a target now, for goodness' sake!”

Harry tried but couldn't give voice to his concern. It would have been difficult enough for him, but with Lupin in the room he couldn't manage a word.

Lupin explained to Hermione, “Four of us are aware of the full prophecy, and all four of us possess the capability to conceal our knowledge of its contents.”

“I thought that Harry's Occlumency lessons failed,” she said.

Harry reluctantly admitted, “They worked. I just didn't realise it at the time.”

“I can learn,” Hermione insisted, “if someone will teach me.”

“You have the mental capability, certainly. I'm sensing that you have the necessary incentive, as well,” Lupin said.

“Remus, don't encourage her!” Harry snapped.

Hermione turned sad eyes on him. “You can't go on like this - it's devouring you.”

Harry glared at Lupin, who looked back at him impassively. “I believe she's correct,” Lupin said. “You need to share this with a friend. I'm not a friend, I'm… well, whatever I am, it's something different than a friend. Everyone around you is in danger, as are any wizards or witches who would stand up against Voldemort. Telling or not telling anyone won't change that. Would you prefer to hear this from Dumbledore?”

Harry frowned immediately. “I'd rather not.”

“It's probably best to have his permission first,” Hermione said.

“Well… it's settled, then,” Lupin said. He retrieved a pinch of Floo powder from a packet kept within his robes, and turned the fire in the hearth from burnt orange to emerald. Instead of placing his head in the flames, Lupin pointed his wand and muttered something under his breath.

Several moments later, Dumbledore's head appeared. “Ah,” he said, “I see that our motorcyclist and his passenger have reached you, Remus.”

“They are worn, but safe and still capable of conversation,” Lupin said. “Would you mind terribly…?”

“Certainly - I'll just need a few moments,” Dumbledore said. Shortly, he stepped slowly out of the fireplace. He wore a robe over his bedclothes, and Fwooper-feather slippers over bright orange socks. Hermione stifled a chuckle.

Dumbledore fished his small wire-rimmed glasses from a pocket in the robe. “Good evening, Harry.” He glanced around the room. “Once again, I must say that these are impressive accommodations. Do you approve, Hermione?”

Hermione blushed. “Erm - it's a very impressive room, sir. I'm sorry, it's just… I believe you've always referred to me as `Miss Granger'.”

“Have I?” Dumbledore asked. “No matter - I have this sense that our conversation this evening shall place us on a first-name basis. Does someone care to confirm why I am visiting at this very late hour?”

Harry pulled out his wand and began casting silencing charms around the room.

“I see,” Dumbledore said. “My sense about the conversation-to-come is accurate. Harry, do you care to begin?”

Harry said, “Hermione's guessed that I heard the prophecy. She wants me to tell it to her.”

“I see. How do you feel about this development?” Dumbledore asked.

“I want to tell her… but it's not safe,” returned Harry.

“I don't care,” Hermione said.

Harry waited for a scolding from Dumbledore. He continued to wait, for a scowl, or a frown, or even a flicker. Instead, Dumbledore smiled. “I was beginning to wonder how long I would have to wait,” he said. Harry gaped at Dumbledore, and was relieved to see a similar reaction play across Hermione's face.

Dumbledore explained, “I couldn't expect you to hold the knowledge to yourself forever, Harry. In my ideal conception, we would have met at least weekly throughout the summer. By now, I would have expected you to choose at least one confidant. I would have predicted Hermione's selection.”

“I share a measure of Harry's concern with regard to safety,” Lupin said, “although now that the knowledge exists beyond you and the orb…”

“It is only a matter of time before Voldemort possesses the full content of the prophecy,” Dumbledore finished for him. He turned to Hermione, and explained, “The first portion of the prophecy has been shared with the Order, because Voldemort already possesses it. It is the second portion that must be safeguarded for as long as possible.”

“Harry, I want to share this with you, but not if it puts you at more risk,” Hermione said.

Harry sighed. “How could I be at more risk?”

“I believe that I provided the answer to that question during our meeting at the conclusion of the term,” said Dumbledore. “Hermione, why are you so eager to know?”

“Harry's my best friend,” Hermione answered without hesitation. “I intend to see him through to the end of all of this. I'm sure that's obvious to you, sir.” She turned to Harry. “You saw what I signed. It should be obvious to you, too, if it wasn't before.”

“What you signed…?” Lupin's eyebrows slowly rose. “Hermione, what did Sirius make you promise?” When she hesitated, he turned to Harry. “Obviously you know what she agreed to - have you seen a copy?” Harry said nothing.

“I assume that you were provided a copy of your agreement with Sirius. Is that copy on your person at present?” Dumbledore asked directly. Hermione slowly withdrew the parchment.

Before Dumbledore could reach out, Lupin took it and quickly read the contents. “He… asked quite a lot of you, didn't he? It was rather inappropriate for him to ask this of a school-age witch. If I were your father, I know that I'd be very upset by this.”

Lupin handed Hermione's parchment to Dumbledore. Dumbledore's eyes lingered on it, before turning to Hermione with a curious mix of pride and sadness. “These are the precise contents of the agreement that you signed last night?” he asked her.

“Yes, and I'd do it again,” she said with defiance in her voice.

“I am more interested in the contents of your heart than the contents of this agreement,” Dumbledore told Hermione. “It is your wish to do these things?”

“I knew what I was signing,” she said.

“Do you recognise that knowing the contents of the prophecy puts you much closer to the dangers suggested here?” Dumbledore asked.

“I… I have to know,” Hermione said quietly.

“I believe you, and I believe that Harry needs you to know,” Dumbledore said; when Harry frowned, he added, “even if that admission makes him uncomfortable. However, that presents us with a dilemma. You would have to learn Occlumency immediately. Even that would be no guarantee, however.” He hesitated, which made Harry very nervous. “There is another means to safeguard important information such as this, but I am loathe to employ it.” Lupin frowned instantly, which did nothing to ease Harry's nerves.

“There's a way that I can protect the knowledge?” Hermione asked. “If that's true, then I do want to know.”

Dumbledore watched her impassively. “Do you truly understand what it is that you ask? If Voldemort were to ever suspect that you possess knowledge of the full prophecy, then he would seek to capture you. He would assume you to be vulnerable.”

Her voice cracked. “I understand.”

Dumbledore said firmly, “He would gladly kill you - you must realise that.”

“I would let him, before I would betray Harry,” she said with resolve.

“I won't have this; I won't tell you,” Harry said sadly, because he knew that she would not be denied.

Hermione turned her resolve full-force on him.  “If the Death Eaters ever take me, I will be killed. It won't matter what I know or don't know, Harry. They'll kill me because of who and what I am.  I want to know, and you want me to know, but if anything ever happens to me I will not betray you.” Without taking her eyes off Harry, she added, “Professor Dumbledore, I want this.”

“Hermione, we must discuss this in frank terms. You must convince me that you understand the consequences of what you ask,” said Dumbledore.

Hermione stood. “We'll be in the library, Harry,” she said, and she led Dumbledore out of the room.

Harry sat silently facing the fireplace. Lupin looked as if he was ready to say something on more than one occasion as they waited, but never spoke. After the better part of half an hour, Dumbledore returned.

“I have shared the prophecy with Hermione,” he announced.

Hermione edged into the room from behind Dumbledore. Harry stood hesitantly, and she dashed across the room. “Oh my God,” she said, and pulled Harry into an embrace. He thought she was going to break his ribs. It's out, he thought, she knows now.  He was surprised to feel relief, although he decided that he would feel even better if he could breathe a little.

“Hermione,” he managed, “ease up a bit, would you?”

A flood of bushy hair moved away from his face.  She looked up at him, eyes shiny with tears, and an inextinguishable smile on her face.  “Oh my God, Harry!  You don't have to die!” she spluttered, and then started to squeeze the life out of him again.

“Hermione, I - don't - you're supposed to - wha…?” he stammered.  Dumbledore was smiling. Harry looked to Lupin half in confusion and half in desperation, and felt some satisfaction that a measure of confusion played across Lupin's face as well.

She let Harry go a little, leaned in against his shoulder, and quietly explained, “I've done nothing but think about what the prophecy could have been, all summer long.  You shut us out all year.  There were so many things that you wouldn't tell, that you didn't want to tell, and then came all the business with the prophecy, and you just disappeared.  It seemed like you gave up, Harry, and you don't give up - you just don't.  `What does he know?' I wondered.  I decided - I don't know why - but I decided you must have found out you had to die for V-Voldemort to be defeated, or something like that.  Then… in his letter, Sirius asked… well, that just seemed to confirm it.”

She let go of him; she was almost wild-eyed, he thought.  “But you don't, Harry… don't you see?  You can win, you don't have to die!  Isn't it wonderful?”

Harry frowned.  “The prophecy says I have to kill him or be killed.  It doesn't say I'm not going to die.”

“Fine then, but it doesn't say that you will,” Hermione said.  “Do you mind if I just savour that for a bit, before we go over the safeguard?”

Harry looked to Lupin again, who had settled into the same smile as Dumbledore.  He said in exasperation, “I have to kill him!  Forgetting for a moment that this might be a bit of a challenge, don't you have a problem with it?  If I want to live, I have to murder someone!”

Hermione shook her head disapprovingly.  “Murder seems rather strong, don't you think?  It's not like you're going to run around offing schoolchildren.  Honestly, Harry, I never assumed that this could end unless somebody kills him.  Can you really envision Voldemort captured and on trial?”

“Will you say something, please?” Harry pleaded with Lupin.

Lupin's smile was as broad as Harry could remember ever seeing. “Hermione, I think that you have more faith in Harry than he has in himself.”

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. “You continue to exceed my high expectations for you, Hermione. Harry, you have made a wise choice, a splendid choice.”

“I didn't choose this,” Harry snapped at him.

Hermione pulled him close again. “You're right; I did. I could never give up on you, not ever.  I'll follow you anywhere, you know - even if I think it's a bad idea. I'll give you any help that I can, no matter what it takes.  I want you to find love, too, like Sirius wanted.  I want you to have everything you deserve in life.  That's what best friends want for each other, right?”

Harry asked quietly, “So we're, um, best friends?”

“Of course,” Hermione quickly returned. Her brow furrowed for a moment. “You'd better not have changed your mind between here and the Burrow.”

“Hermione, you must remain near Harry to fulfil your intentions,” Dumbledore said, “and if you wish to remain near Harry, then your agreement with Sirius must be broken. You are not of age, so it is not binding in any case.” Hermione began to protest, but Lupin gently waved her off.

“Your parents are teetering on the edge of withdrawing you and relocating abroad,” Lupin said. “If the agreement is broken, you will leave them with one less concern.” He turned to Dumbledore, and added grimly, “That being said, I wonder if the Headmaster might simply be substituting a new concern for the old.”

“The law is clear in regard to magical consent, Remus,” Dumbledore said. “I am satisfied that Hermione understands the potential consequences of both the knowledge she now possesses and the magic that will safeguard its transmission.”

“You're equivocating, Albus,” Lupin said. “That does nothing to ease my concerns about this.” Dumbledore shot Lupin a very parental look, and Lupin sighed. “Very well… I sense this is my cue to leave. Hermione, I'll have a chat with your parents about the agreement.”

As soon as the door closed behind Lupin, Dumbledore said, “Now then, about the consequences of knowing what you know…” He quickly withdrew his wand from within his robes and pointed it at Hermione.

The instant Harry saw the wand, he shouted, “Expelliarmus!” Dumbledore's wand shook and bounced, and slipped from his searching fingers; it landed in Harry's grasp. “If you so much as flinch, I'll break it in two,” Harry said murderously.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. “What did you think I was going to do?”

“You - I don't know, you pulled your wand on her and - and - not a word of explanation - and - and what was I supposed to think? I don't know, I - I - I guess I thought you were going to Obliviate her, or… I don't know,” Harry stammered. His hands shook, and sweat beaded at his temples.

Hermione put her hand on Harry's, wrapping her fingers around Lupin's wand in the process. “Harry, it's all right. Give it back.”

The touch of her hand made him stop shaking. “I - I don't understand,” Harry said.

Dumbledore reached forward and gently took back his wand. “Harry, why would I reveal the prophecy only to Obliviate the recipient? Besides, where would I start? The two of you have been entwined for five years. If I were a full-time Obliviator, I'd still be putting Hermione at risk. For that matter, I'm rather offended that you thought I would perform a memory charm without consent.”

Harry felt ashamed. “I - don't know - I - saw the wand, and - I don't know what… I'm sorry.”

Dumbledore smiled. “Apology accepted, Harry. I am curious about one thing, however. How did you manage to disarm me without your wand?”

“But I just…” Harry began, and then stopped. Hermione ran her hand along the side of Harry's leg, and pressed against the wand concealed in his pants pocket. She looked at him, and her eyes betrayed questions and wonder.

“As I said earlier, Harry, we really must discuss this control problem of yours,” Dumbledore said. “Now then… Hermione, you do agree that there is no longer an agreement between you and Sirius?”

“Of course I agree,” replied Hermione.

“You also agree to any measures that I might deem necessary in order to ensure your safety?” Dumbledore asked.

Hermione sighed.  “I'm less than pleased about the idea of `any measures'.”

“Your parents have given me their trust, and I shall not betray that trust. Under the circumstances, your protection will become a primary focus for the Order. You may find this stifling, but I insist,” Dumbledore explained.

Harry lowered his head.  He couldn't remember ever feeling so completely powerless, even when he'd been in Voldemort's grasp.  Part of him wanted to cry out, while the rest of him understood that it would make no difference whatever.

Dumbledore explained to Harry, “The safeguard is a variation on a very old protective spell. I acquired it from a friend within the Department of Mysteries. It is not evil, but its essential aspect does come from the Dark Arts. Hermione cannot be harmed in any lasting fashion by the casting of the charm. However, it is not pleasant for the caster, the recipient or the bearer -”

“The bearer?” Harry asked.

“In this case, that would be you. For purposes of this protection, you are the bearer of the secret to be kept,” Dumbledore said. “Hold out your right hand, please.”

Hermione reached out to Harry with her left hand, and intertwined her fingers in his. Dumbledore flicked the back of Harry's hand with the tip of his wand, and then did the same to Hermione's hand; three dark characters appeared. “The runes will disappear after the incantation is cast,” Dumbledore said. “Sit on the couch, both of you. Hermione, you must relax and clear your mind, just as we discussed. Harry, you must keep your mind fixed on the contents of the prophecy - do you understand?”

Harry nodded glumly. Dumbledore stood directly in front of her, and held his wand in both hands like the grip of a sword.  He moved it around in a figure-eight, and it began to glow like he was casting a light spell.

“Hermione, are you absolutely certain about this?” Dumbledore asked. “Once done, it cannot be easily undone.” She nodded. Harry suddenly realised that Dumbledore had been calling her by her first name since they had returned from the library, and that left him on edge.

“Harry, are you going to intercede?” Dumbledore asked.

“This shouldn't be happening,” Harry said grimly. “I should have kept things to myself.”

Hermione grasped Harry's hand tightly. “Stop,” she said. She closed her eyes, but Harry forced himself to watch.

Dumbledore said `Arcanum se astringo dum dolor', and a glow spread from the tip of his wand down the shaft.  As he said `Arcanum se astringo donec nex', Dumbledore's robe rustled and Hermione's mane of thick brown hair blew back as if stirred by wind.  

Dumbledore touched the tip of his wand against the centre of Hermione's chest, and said, “Tutela!”  There was a flash of light, and she cried out as though the wand had pierced her, eyes wide open and back arching in spasm. Harry felt a rush of energy surge from her hand to his.  Dumbledore withdrew his wand, and she slumped back.  Her eyes closed and she began trembling uncontrollably. Harry immediately brought her toward him.  She was cold, and she shook so hard that Harry had difficulty holding her. He glared at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore produced a wrapped chocolate from the folds of his robe, and wordlessly gave it to Harry. Harry fumbled with the wrapper, broke off a bit of the chocolate, and carefully pressed it inside Hermione's lips.  “It'll make you feel better,” he said.  He tugged her up until she was curled across him, her head resting near his shoulder. He felt as though the heat was being drained from his body; it reminded him of Dementors, and he shuddered at the thought.

She whispered something, but he didn't catch it.  He inclined his head, and told her, “I'm listening.”  She said it again, and he laughed nervously.

Dumbledore asked, “What did she say, Harry?”

“She told me not to fuss over her, that she'd be fine,” Harry said, gently stroking her hair.  “Hermione, don't you ever think that you were sorted into the wrong house, not for a moment,” he whispered.

Harry answered Dumbledore's questioning look by telling him quietly, “She told me once that the Sorting Hat considered her for Ravenclaw first.”

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully.  “Hermione does possess the clever mind associated with Ravenclaw, but she has found her proper place.”  He reached out and gently brushed the backs of his fingers along Hermione's cheek, and told her, “You will feel yourself again within the hour,” He stepped back, and then slumped heavily into one of the armchairs.

Hermione's shivering slowly diminished, and her breathing relaxed. When he was certain that she was asleep, Harry carefully stood up and carried her to his bed. He gently laid her atop the bed, beneath a throw. He returned to the couch, sat, and stared blankly into the fire.

Dumbledore said quietly, “You seem so like your father this evening. I find that I resist comparing Hermione to your mother, for fear of unintended consequences.”

“Hermione and I are friends, best friends,” Harry said. “I have no expectations beyond that - I can't. `Neither can live while the other survives', right?”

“Harry, there is a fine line separating ordained prophecy from self-fulfilling prophecy,” Dumbledore warned. “At the surface, this part of the prophecy is logical. Voldemort cannot possess that which he believes he wants, unless you are eliminated. You cannot reasonably expect to undertake a normal adult life while Voldemort's power grows - nor can Hermione, the Weasleys, or any of your schoolmates. There is a war coming, and none of you will truly live until it is concluded. I will not spare you that truth. However, if you persist in acting as though the prophecy prevents you from having friends or experiencing enjoyment or knowing love, then it will be by your own choice.”

“I endanger everyone around me. That's why I can't have a life until he's gone,” Harry insisted.

“A very brave young woman just put your life before hers,” Dumbledore reminded him. “Others have already made similar agreements, tacit and otherwise. Those around you willingly accept heightened risk in exchange for your company. In fact I did so this afternoon, during my meeting with the Board of Governors.”

“I don't follow,” Harry said.

“I made certain concessions, in order to placate key members of the Board. I shall leave it at that for now,” Dumbledore said.

Three very long days caught up with Harry. He was tired of being angry, tired of arguing, and weary of regret. He began, “As horrible as I've been this summer, why…?”

Dumbledore said, “I will never abandon you, and I will not allow dark forces to separate us. Hermione will never abandon you - that should be abundantly clear. Remus will not abandon you. The Order will not abandon you. Despite the feelings engendered within you by the prophecy, you are not alone now and you will never be alone again except by your own choosing.”

Harry knelt beside Dumbledore's chair and held his hands. “I don't deserve… I'm so terribly sorry…” he said.

“We share that in common,” Dumbledore said. He began to rise from the armchair, but was unsteady.

Harry jumped up in surprise, and gently helped him to his feet. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Dumbledore smiled faintly. “It is late, I am old, and the safeguarding charm was more draining than I anticipated. That is curious, most curious indeed. It was as though I were casting it several times. I shall have to make enquiries…”

Harry felt Dumbledore tense. “What is it?”

“I would like to retire for the evening, Harry,” he said awkwardly. “I am not at all accustomed to asking…”

“What can I do?” Harry asked.

“I believe that I might manage the Floo with modest assistance,” Dumbledore said.

Harry put his arm around Dumbledore's waist, and they stepped through the fire into the Headmaster's office. Harry tried to avoid recalling his last visit to the office, but failed miserably.

Dumbledore took a walking stick from beside his desk. “I shall manage from here. Your best friend needs you now,” he said. A twinkle shone in his eyes - faint but unmistakeable.

Harry reappeared in his bedroom at Grimmauld Place. He quietly walked down two flights, to discover that Lupin had retired for the night. Back in his bedroom, he set the chair from the writing desk next to the bed. He wanted to be close, in case Hermione needed anything. The only remaining light in the room came from the flickering fireplace, now returned to normal hues. The flickering light reflected off her hair. She had drawn her arms up, and her hands were pressed between the pillow and the side of her face. He held up his own hand in the orange light; the runes were gone, just as Dumbledore had said. He whispered, “Why did you do this?” He expected no response, of course, and there was none.

He watched her sleep for a while, but had to turn away. He couldn't shake the sight of her crying out from the spell, which in turn brought back the image of her lying unconscious at the Ministry, which in turn brought back the sight and the sound of the veil. He wondered what he had ever done to deserve her friendship. He was too tired to notice that his head lay on the edge of the bed, and was asleep soon after.