Author's Note: There is quite a bit of Latin in this chapter. I'm quite sure most of it is grammatically incorrect, so if you converse in Latin over the dinner table, please cut me a break J In general terms, the Latin only describes what you already know of the enchantment. It joins body, mind, and soul, together in a willing eternal union and if anyone breaks it their magic will be destroyed…..it just sounded a lot damn cooler in Latin!
The enchantment cast in this chapter is not entirely my own idea. Although I've made the casting and the phraseology etc. my own…I have to give credit where it's due. I would probably never have come up with this idea or angle to the story had I not read Ebony's Trouble in Paradise early in my HPFF musings. I don't think this enchantment bears a great deal of resemblance to what she depicted, but the overall idea of the trio being magically bound together is hers.
Big thanks to Melissa and Jane for their expert beta-work. Your suggestions were wonderful, and as usual I just "accepted" every grammar change that was made…it's important to know one's limitations.
You will (hopefully) recognize a familiar location in this chapter. You will also bid farewell to at least one canon character - not saying which. As for the end of the chapter…it ends a rather long journey…well over 400 pages of it…as this roller coaster has finally crested the top of the last LONG drop (that will end at the end of chapter 24)…all I can say is this…
Please keep your hands and feet inside the car until the train has come to a complete stop.
VLeigh
Chapter 22 - Turning Point
Harry staggered down the stairs and flopped into the squashy sofa. His dreams had consisted of green-clad Slytherins running amok at Number 4 Privet Drive. Dudley, himself sporting the robes of the snakes, had Mark Evans hanging from the ceiling like a punching bag whilst he set upon beating the fire out of him.
The sun hadn't thought to peek from the trees yet. It was only five o'clock in the morning, so the common room was deserted. The house fireplace contained the dying embers of a fire long forgotten. The waning moonlight streamed across the table where his books were piled. Harry, nearly catatonic from a persistent lack of rest, stared at them while attempting to force his body from the sofa to resume his studies. It was well into April and N.E.W.T. exams were approaching at breakneck speed. While Hermione managed to stay atop her studies with her infernal multi-colored homework planner, Harry's had become little more than a paperweight. This is not to say he didn't study - he studied with her, but he also had Quidditch practice and the crushing stress of the prophecy distracting him from his revision.
He closed his eyes and let his head fall back along the cushions. The weight that had taken up residence in his chest months ago grew heavier. He could feel the tension in every muscle of his body and couldn't stop the constant flurry of activity that overloaded his brain and exhausted him. When he was thinking about the prophecy, he felt guilty for skiving off revising for the N.E.W.T.s. When he studied for N.E.W.T.s, he felt like he was signing his own death warrant. Quidditch practice always his mood. He left the pitch after each practice thinking of the time he'd wasted on a game, not preparing for either his exams or his fate. He hadn't experienced a restful night's sleep since the evening of the Valentine's Dance, and on top of that, he couldn't get Dumbledore's words out of his head. He'd named Harry Head Boy and kept his residence among the other Gryffindors, because he felt Harry's leadership would be vital this year. As he lay on the sofa, doing absolutely nothing, he wondered what kind of example he'd set.
His thoughts drifted to the heartening smile where they always ended eventually…Hermione. After the meeting with Dumbledore, Ron walked Merc back to Ravenclaw Tower, whilst Harry and Hermione returned to Gryffindor Tower alone. Hermione didn't attempt to make conversation and Harry returned the favor. Taking advantage of the silence, he contemplated the discussion they'd just had in the Headmaster's office and his refusal to allow the trio to cast the enchantment. The longer he thought about it, the more it agitated him. By the time they'd parted for bed, he'd made up his mind.
From their exchange before nodding off to sleep, Harry knew Ron agreed with him. But he'd yet to ask Hermione her opinion. This enchantment required three people, and if she was swayed by Dumbledore's warnings, then Harry and Ron's inclination to cast the enchantment in secret would be null. The fact she'd not exited his office in a fiery temper might have indicated her complicity with Dumbledore's order. As he lay on the sofa thinking of her, half-formed images of a familiar scene floated across his field of vision.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were side by side…an explosion of blinding green light…hands clasped together…a chilling laugh…Harry moving in front of the other two…a blood-curdling scream.
Harry's eyes sprung open as his hand flew up from the sofa. He ran his palm over his heaving chest as if to prove it had only been a dream. As his breathing slowed, his brows furrowed in thought. He realized that it couldn't have been a dream; he was awake. Before he could consider the possibility that he'd learned more in Divination than he'd imagined, the answer became evident.
"Harry!" a startled voice echoed across the room. Hermione was standing in a dressing gown at the foot of the dormitory staircase. Her hair was disheveled and her misty eyes matched the crimson of her robe. Finding the energy that eluded him before, Harry rose from the sofa and crossed the room. Hermione's gaze remained steadfast to the floor as he wrapped his arms around her.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked. The breath she'd strangled in her throat escaped her lips as she relaxed against his chest.
"I didn't want you to worry," she squeaked as her tears began to soak his shirt. He pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head. They stood at the bottom of the staircase, holding each other, until her sobs quieted. Harry wanted so desperately to shield her from this…all of this. He didn't want her to worry. He didn't want her to be in danger. He didn't want her to cry. More than anything, he didn't want to lose her any more than he wanted to leave her widowed before they could speak their vows aloud.
He guided her to the sofa and they sat down together. He kept his arms wrapped firmly around her shoulders and she threw her legs across his, leaning her head against his chest as she wiped her tears with the back of her hand. "When did you start having this dream again?" he questioned.
"It's been recurring here and there since the summer. But I've not had a night free of it since we started practicing the Deliquesco charm," she sniffled. Harry was taken aback by her response. He hadn't realized she'd been suffering any additional stress aside from the ones they'd all shared. He certainly hadn't realized it had gone on so long. However, her confession answered a long bothersome question.
"That's why you refused a kip on the couch when I asked you," Harry stated. Hermione's head bobbed along his chest in assent.
"When I passed out that night in the Room of Requirement, I'd already seen flashes of it. I knew when I fell asleep I'd relive it in its entirety." She wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her dressing gown. "I didn't want you to know." Her shoulders began to hitch as Harry held her close.
Harry was more upset with himself for not recognizing her distress than he was with her for not telling him about the dream. They sat on the sofa together, Harry's hand lazily tracing along her arm as the two fell into companionable silence. Hermione's shoulders eventually fell still and her breathing grew deep and relaxed. Although his legs had long since fallen asleep, Harry held her while she slept, hoping she'd find the few minutes of peace that had eluded him.
The morning sunlight eclipsed that of the moon and began to fill the Common Room with the warmth of spring. Harry felt sure the rumbling of his stomach would rouse Hermione, but so far she was still asleep. However, it wasn't long until another roaring stomach joined him.
"This is cozy," Ron said as he dropped into the squashy chair next to them. Harry shot him a reproving look and Ron threw his hands in the air in defense. "I'm only having you on," he replied. "What happened?"
"I couldn't sleep, so I came down to do some work." Harry sighed and looked at Hermione who continued to rest peacefully in his arms. "She had a nightmare and came downstairs," he said. "She didn't know I was here."
"Did she tell you what the nightmare was about?"
"I already knew. I'd seen it over the summer, the first time she'd had it." Ron raised a suspicious eyebrow. "The three of us are holding hands and I step in front of you both to save you from the killing curse."
Ron looked away and fidgeted his hands together. In an erstwhile attempt to lighten the mood he responded. "She always did say you had a 'saving people thing,'" he replied with a forced chuckle. Harry, ignoring his failed attempt at humor, continued to stare into the fire. "You don't think she's seeing what he's seeing, do you?"
Harry's eyes darted to Ron's. Although they'd spent seven years together, he was still stunned any time Ron or Hermione appeared to read his thoughts. "That's what I've been thinking about."
"And…," Ron pressed.
"I don't think so. In order for him to get to Hermione, he has to go through me." Harry adjusted his arms around Hermione and laid his cheek on the top of her head. "I practice Occlumency on a regular basis now. I rarely feel the scar anymore." Ron nodded his head and drew a breath. "I reckon it's just another nightmare to her now."
"It's hardly just another nightmare," a sleepy voice resonated against his chest. Harry pulled his head back and watched Hermione's eyes flutter open as she yawned.
"Hi," he whispered.
"Hi," she replied.
"How are you feeling?" Harry asked.
"Better now that I got a little rest," she answered. She rubbed the back of her hands against her eyes and glanced toward Ron. He was sitting forward in the chair with his elbows on his knees, staring at the two of them. "Good morning, Ron."
"Morning," he echoed her greeting. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine. I just have…well…a difficult time with that dream," she lamented. Ron continued to look at her questioningly. "It brings back a few memories I'd rather do without," she continued. Harry's heart dropped as he remembered her experience on Privet Drive. Although he'd logged it as just another narrow escape and moved on, he realized Hermione was not likely to ever forget watching Harry fall victim to the deadliest curse of wizard-kind.
Looking for a reason to change the subject, he slid her off his lap and onto the sofa. "We'll wait for you to change your clothes. Breakfast should be ready in the Great Hall," Harry said. Hermione nodded and dragged herself up the stairs while Harry tried to rub the circulation back into his legs.
"What do you think?" Ron asked after watching her disappear up the dormitory staircase. Harry didn't need an explanation.
"Dunno," he replied, wincing at the pins and needles that radiated down his legs. "But it's not like she's never broken a school rule, is it?"
"Of course not," Ron replied as his face broke into a grin. "She's always had the misfortune to hang around with us."
"Indeed."
Thirty minutes later they settled themselves at the Gryffindor table and tucked in to breakfast. None of them spoke in great detail. Harry spent his time mentally practicing multiple versions of the same conversation.
"Listen Hermione, I know what Dumbledore said but we think he's wrong."
Right…because your judgment is clearly more astute than Albus Dumbledore's…
"Ron and I have decided…"
Have you taken leave of your senses?
"Hermione, we need your help."
"Why don't you two just tell me what you're up to?" Hermione broke through Harry's thoughts as efficiently as she'd broken the silence.
"What are you on about?" Ron asked with noticeable hesitation.
"You're up to something…both of you," she replied, placing her fork on the table and crossing her arms over her chest.
Before Harry could respond, Ron's discomfort got the best of him. "We need to set some ground rules in regard to this whole empathy thing, Hermione. It's not right for you to just…"
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Ron!" she scoffed. "This has nothing to do with empathic ability and everything to do with the look plastered across your faces." Harry furrowed his eyebrows and looked around in a ridiculous attempt to assess the look on his own face. Not finding any answers, he inspected Ron's expression and found him returning the favor.
"What look?" they chimed.
Hermione gave an impatient roll of her eyes and drew a breath. "The same look you've had the last fourteen times you've decided to do something stupid." They snapped their heads toward each other and back to Hermione, whose penetrating stare had yet to be interrupted. Her eyes narrowed. "You want to do it anyway, don't…."
"Shhhh," Harry admonished. He could feel the eyes of the Headmaster penetrating the side of his face. He didn't dare look toward the staff table for fear Dumbledore would see right through him. However, at the moment, the swift manner in which he'd silenced Hermione posed a greater threat. Her eyes were blazing. "We'll talk about this, but let's not do it here," he added, inclining his head toward the staff table. Hermione held his gaze for a moment before picking up her fork and stabbing an unsuspecting sausage.
They finished their meal in silence. Ron then left his seat as Merc settled herself at the Ravenclaw table. Harry watched him drop onto the bench next to her and exchange a greeting with Luna. He and Merc spoke for a few moments before Ron rose from the table with a smile. After a quick peck to her cheek, he turned and gave Harry a significant look before leaving the Great Hall.
Harry wiped his mouth with a serviette and pushed his plate away. Hermione glanced up at him and followed his gaze toward Ron's retreating figure. She took a final sip of her pumpkin juice and rose from the table. Harry joined her as they left the Great Hall and followed Ron's trail out onto the front lawn.
Ron sat down under their favorite willow tree and plucked at the grass. "Is Merc coming out?" Hermione asked.
"No," Ron replied. "She said she had some work to catch up on in the library."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Hermione replied, apparently thinking Ron was put off by her alternate plans.
"I'm not," Ron replied. He looked between Harry and Hermione. "I'd rather she not know what we're planning."
Harry waved an imaginary insect from his face in order to avert his eyes from Hermione. "What exactly are we planning?" she questioned, continuing to stare at Harry. His eyes scanned the landscape and wandered back toward the castle entrance. Feeling assured no one was within earshot, he sat down next to Ron.
"Hermione," he began. It hadn't escaped his attention that she remained standing with her arms crossed over her chest. He thought of the hundreds of ways he'd practiced starting this conversation. Now that the moment was upon him, he realized what a waste of time it had been. "You know what we want to do. The only question is will you do it with us."
Surprisingly, Hermione didn't respond. She didn't move, she didn't speak, and she didn't seem to breathe. Harry began to wonder if he'd said anything aloud or if he'd merely thought to say it. He glanced at Ron and saw that he, too, was looking at Hermione, clearly awaiting her answer. Harry followed Ron's eyes back toward her as she flopped onto the grass in front of them.
"I don't know," Hermione lamented. "Dumbledore said we shouldn't," she continued. Harry dug little patches of grass with a twig while Ron grumbled next to him.
"Since when have we bothered about the rules?" Ron muttered. Harry felt, more than saw, the scathing glare this question elicited from Hermione. She sat up straight and batted her hair over her shoulder.
"And how many times have we nearly been killed, Ron?" she snapped. Harry couldn't help but flinch at the implication.
"Yeah, well if we don't do it, Harry will be killed for sure!" Ron replied as he yanked a tuft of grass from the ground and tossed it toward the lake. If Harry learned anything through his course of time at Hogwarts, it was to recognize the starting gun of a signature Weasley-Granger row. Such an event would plant them both in the corners of their own stubbornness and he'd never get anywhere.
"Listen," Harry interjected before Hermione could respond. "This isn't about me. It's about all of us." He looked between Ron and Hermione as their stance softened and they considered his statement. "We're either resolved to do this together or we're not."
Silence fell between them as Harry's words resonated in the air. Ron continued to pick at new blades of grass while Hermione watched the progress of a butterfly as it fluttered across the lawn. Just when he'd resigned himself to creating a Plan B, Hermione spoke.
"Well, if we're going to do this, we'll need a plan." Harry felt his face light up as he and Ron all but tackled her together. Pushing them off of her in exasperation, she laughed, "geroff, me." They pulled away and looked at her questioningly. She rolled her eyes and scoffed, "you knew I'd go along with you anyway. But, we'll need to figure out when and where, and we need to figure out how we're going to keep Dumbledore from finding out." Before she'd even finished the sentence, Harry was waving his hand in front of her dismissively.
"I know just the place," he said.
"I don't see any reason to wait," Ron added, glancing back toward the castle doors.
"And Dumbledore?" Hermione questioned. Harry and Ron looked at each other, each with equally blank expressions. Harry wasn't sure there was a way to keep Dumbledore from knowing anything. However, he'd all but memorized the enchantment since first reading about it, and it didn't appear to take a great deal of time. The trick wasn't keeping their plan from Dumbledore; it was casting the charm before he had time to stop them. In such case, he reckoned Ron was right…the sooner the better.
"The place I'm thinking of is off Hogwarts grounds," Harry began. "If we're clever about it, we should be able to cast the enchantment before he finds out."
"He's going to be furious," Ron added with a mischievous gleam in his eye. Harry was certain he was trying to lighten the mood, but his humor was lost on Hermione.
"I don't care," she whispered. "Not if it keeps Harry alive."
***
Hermione tucked a zippered jumper into her bag as she glanced through the window. The sun hadn't started its lazy descent in the sky so she was not in a panic yet. She, Harry and Ron returned to the castle to formulate their plan. Ron refused her suggestion that they work in the library, so they ended up working it out in the Common Room amid endless interruptions. Their progress was slow and the plan wasn't completed until the waning hours of the afternoon. As it turned out, that was beneficial. The enchantment was supposed to be cast as the sun set. That left little time for her to overanalyze and rethink the decision she'd made that morning. She tugged the zipper on her bag closed and pulled the strap over her shoulder. Without realizing it, she ambled to the window and silently repeated the incantation from memory.
This enchantment was founded in ancient magic, so it was unlike any spell they had cast before. The incantation was complex. Parts of it were said by an individual while other parts were repeated in unison with Harry and Ron. She knew the spell had devastating effects if broken; she hoped it was more forgiving if the casters didn't speak the words correctly. Either way, she wasn't taking any chances. She'd repeated her portion of the incantation endlessly since they read it in detail this afternoon. She didn't feel the need to encourage Harry and Ron to do the same. It appeared, from their diligence with the task, that they had the same concern she did. When they parted ways to gather their things, Ron was so lost in his own mutterings he tripped on his way up the stairs…something Seamus enjoyed whole-heartedly.
She watched the waning sun glisten off the rippling water in the lake and wondered where they'd be going this evening. They'd discussed everything as they worked through their plan, but Harry made little mention of the location he had in mind. When she asked him about it, several times, he merely told her that it was taken care of and she should bring a jumper. Needless to say, she was less than enthused. Her mind ran the gamut of possible locations and in the end, she knew only what she knew in the beginning…it was off Hogwarts grounds. What she didn't understand was how they were going to get there by sundown when Harry assured them they still had time to eat supper in the Great Hall.
"Oh, my! Packing a bag are we?" a giggling voice asked. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil burst into the room with little thought of who would be inside. Hermione, lost in her own musings, only vaguely recognized the voices of her bubbly roommates. She turned to find them both, with raised eyebrows, inspecting her at the window.
"So what if I am?"
"Nothing…nothing…" Parvati replied with a grin. "It's just that you and your boys have been doing an awful lot of clandestine planning today." Hermione rolled her eyes at the implication and straightened up.
"Putting in another late night?" Lavender asked with mirth.
"Why don't you consult your inner eye and tell me," Hermione glowered as she breezed past them and headed out the door. "Honestly," she muttered to herself as she descended the stairs to the Common Room. She'd dealt with Lavender and Parvati for seven years and could generally stand their flippancy. But with the implications of The Plan looming over her head, she could scarcely imagine how anyone could be so carefree. She found it rather annoying.
"All right, Hermione?" Harry asked as she made her way across the Common Room.
"Fine," she replied. "I can only take so much of Trelawney Junior and her seeing eye-dog."
"Blimey," Ron remarked. "You're in a state." Hermione cast a sideling glance at Ron and composed herself before succumbing to her temper. Starting a row with Ron would not be the least bit helpful to any of them.
"I'm just hungry," she declared as she pulled open the portrait hole and stepped through. Harry and Ron followed her. They made their way to the Great Hall and were treated with the house elf specialty…roast duck. As much as she wanted to devour it, her stomach was in knots.
"I thought you said you were hungry," Harry asked. Hermione realized she'd been doing little more than pushing a potato around the plate and put her fork down. Harry and Ron exchanged a concerned look and set their eyes upon hers. "Hermione," Harry whispered. He reached across the table and took her hand in his. "Everything will be fine."
Her shoulders relaxed as she felt the stress ebb from her. She'd spent the last few hours obsessing about The Plan and everything that could go wrong. Primary among her concerns was her own fear of making a mistake, followed closely by her anxiety regarding Dumbledore's reaction should he find out what they'd done behind his back. Amid all of her apprehension, she'd failed to consider the one thing, quite literally, staring her in the face.
She wasn't doing this alone. She was in the exact place she'd been so many times over the last seven years…beside Harry and Ron. Her eyes drifted to the redhead sitting next to Harry and his face broke into a warm smile. Echoing Harry's sentiment, he added, "We're in this together, Hermione. It's going to be all right." He winked at her and she couldn't stop the chuckle that escaped her throat. "Now, eat something so you don't screw it all up."
Hermione would've jumped across the table at Ron had he and Harry both not exploded with laughter. It didn't make it any better than Ron managed to mimic her audible mumbling with frightening clarity. He'd just finished echoing her derisive comments about "insensitive gits," when Hermione realized he'd become anything but. The smile faded from his face as she realized his eyes were searching the table behind her with an obvious purpose.
"What's the matter?" she asked. Ron shook his head and glanced toward the Great Hall's entrance.
"Merc," he replied. Hermione turned around to see what her friend was up to, only to find the explanation for Ron's query. Merc wasn't there. Before Hermione could offer an explanation, Ron voiced the same one. "She can't still be in the library," he said incredulously.
Hermione chuckled as her hunger revisited her. She took a bite of duck and replied, "Yes, she can." Ron goggled at the reply while Hermione sipped her sunflower juice. "Merc doesn't study much, but she takes N.E.W.T.s as seriously as I do. She just doesn't want anyone to know about it."
"Well, if we don't want anyone to know about this, we'd best get moving," Harry interrupted as he pushed his plate away and gave a furtive glance to the enchanted ceiling as the sun cast a brilliant palette of color across the sky.
Hermione took a roll from the basket and threw her bag over her shoulder as they rose from the table together. Hermione noticed, with some amusement, that Ron's eyes continued to search the Ravenclaw table for any sign of Merc as they left the room. Hermione lagged a step behind Harry and Ron, as she had no idea where she was going. They quickly walked out of the castle and, when sure of their privacy, set off at a run toward the Quidditch pitch.
"Harry," Hermione exclaimed as they ducked into the Gryffindor changing room. "The pitch is hardly a secluded place to do this!"
"Which is exactly why we're not doing it here," he replied, pulling his wand from his robes and opening a locked cabinet at the far end of the room. Without further explanation, he pulled out Ron's Quasar and quickly dove back into the closet to retrieve his Firebolt. "Come on, we haven't much time," he directed as Ron took off through the door onto the pitch. He took Hermione's hand and pulled her through the door after him until the trio stood on the pitch together. "You know where you're going, right?" Harry asked Ron.
"Right," Ron replied.
Harry tapped his wand to Ron's head and watched him shiver as a disillusionment charm enveloped him. "Then take off. It's best if both brooms don't leave together," Harry instructed. For what she could see of him, Ron nodded his head and shot out of the pitch toward the northern edge of the grounds.
Fear settling in the pit of her stomach, it became all too clear what she would be expected to do next. "Harry," her voice wavered.
"I'll be right here the whole time," he answered. He turned and tapped her head with his wand while muttering the disillusionment spell. She felt as though raw eggs were slipping over her scalp and down the neck of her robes. She couldn't help but shiver at the sensation. Harry disillusioned himself and straddled the broom in front of her. "Come on," he encouraged. "I promise not to go fast."
Hermione threw one uneasy leg over his Firebolt and scoffed. "Your definition of fast and mine might not be the same." He wrapped his arms around her as she felt her feet lose contact with the ground. The wind caught her hair as they rose from the pitch and turned northward. She was just about to feel comfortable with their progress when she felt his arms tighten around her. "Harry?"
"Just hold on, Hermione," he replied. Knowing such a direction could not bode well, she squeezed her eyes shut and grasped the handle of the broom with deadly force. She would've screamed as he leaned her into the handle and sped across the sky, but the force of the wind against her chest made it nearly impossible to breathe. The only calming presence was that of Harry's chest lying warmly along her spine. She realized after a few moments that his chin was settled on her shoulder and his cheek pressed against her ear. "This isn't so bad, is it?" his voice broke through the rushing wind in her ear.
It quickly became clear why Harry kept the location part of The Plan a secret. Had she known she would've been flying there on an international standard racing broom, she surely would've been sick before ever leaving the ground. As it was, she wanted to hex him for keeping such an important piece of information from her. With her eyes as tightly shut as ever, she barked, "I could kill you!" She felt his chest bouncing along her back as he laughed. It did nothing to lighten her mood.
"Hermione," he said in her ear. "Stop shielding me," he directed. "Let yourself enjoy it a little. I won't let anything happen to you."
It was no secret to anyone how much she hated to fly. She wasn't even sure why she felt that way. In part, she imagined she disliked it because she wasn't very good at it. She would certainly never match the abilities of Harry, Ron, Merc, or even Ginny for that matter. It seemed everyone but Hermione loved to fly, and her friends all excelled at it. But even more disconcerting to her was the total lack of control she felt when she was in the air. She liked her feet on the ground for the sheer ability to control her own fate. Up here, she was either in her own less-than-capable hands or in the hands of whoever was riding with her. And being totally dependent on someone else was not a situation she cared for. Hermione was beginning to feel sick from the entire experience. She weighed her options and realized she could either throw up all over the man she pledged to love for an eternity, or take his advice and hope to assuage her stomach on his endorphins.
Begrudgingly, she chose the latter.
She took a deep breath and allowed his emotions to flood through her. She leaned back into him as her churning stomach began to subside and a smile broke across her face. Harry either felt what she was doing, or realized it from her response. "That's my girl," he chimed as he pulled the broom handle to the left and spun them in a circle. What normally would've caused Hermione to curse him, elicited a laugh instead. They cackled together as he playfully drove them toward their destination. Ahead of her, she saw a rocky cliff that overlooked the lake far below. She glanced behind her to see that Hogwarts was a mere aggregation of sparkling golden lights off in the distance. Ron, having already reversed his disillusionment charm, was preparing a fire as they set down. She swung her leg off the broom with a bright smile and dropped her bag by Ron's side.
Ron looked up at them both as the fire grew in warmth and intensity. His eyebrows knitted together as he inspected their beaming faces. "You weren't that far behind me," he scoffed. Hermione, trying her best to look offended, slapped him on the shoulder and replied.
"Honestly, Ron! Can't a girl enjoy a broom ride without you making a lewd suggestion?" She shivered as Harry reversed their charms as Ron had done.
"Sure, if it's any girl but you. You hate flying, Hermione."
"Well, Harry helped me out with that," she answered. She turned to Harry who was laying his broomstick next to Ron's and pulling on a hooded jumper. "Thank you," she said. He wrapped an arm around her and placed a warm kiss on her temple.
"Anytime," he answered with a smile. "Now that you're properly relaxed, I believe we've got a task to accomplish."
"Already started," Ron answered poking his wand toward the fire so a great flame licked up toward the sky. Harry and Hermione walked toward him and dropped down on the ground. The sun hadn't quite made contact with the horizon. The trio looked between the dancing flames and the drifting sunlight and fell into silence. They sat motionless, watching the sun sink lower in the sky, each immersed in their own thoughts.
She couldn't speak for the other two, but there were more thoughts coursing through Hermione's mind than she could categorize. Her life with Harry and Ron flashed before her eyes. She thought about their adventures, each playing in her mind's eye as the setting sun cast ribbons of color through the clouds. She thought of the future they hadn't experienced. She tried not to think of the prophecy and what lie ahead. Apparently, she wasn't the only one lost in these musings.
"I just want to say," Harry croaked. "In case I never get the chance…you two are…well, you're…" He fell to silence, struggling to find the right words. Hermione grasped his hand in hers for support.
"It's all right, mate," Ron whispered. "We know." Ron drew a breath and looked skyward. As he let the air leave his lungs, his eyes drifted to the sparkling lights of Hogwarts castle. "It seems like an eternity ago," Ron muttered and returned his eyes to Harry and Hermione, "since we met on that train. So much has happened. So much has changed."
"I don't think all that much has changed," Hermione whispered. Ron looked at her with the question stamped across his face. "No matter what has happened, no matter what's changed…we're still here. We're still together. I don't think anyone, not even Voldemort, could change that." Ron nodded in appreciation.
"I guess that's why this enchantment doesn't scare me," Harry added. "It's always been the three of us. It will always be the three of us. What's there to be afraid of?"
Hermione found the words she was sure Harry couldn't voice. "I love you both," she replied as she took Ron's hand in her free hand. "If this is the key to making sure we all survive what's coming, then I'm all for it. My life wouldn't be as meaningful if I didn't have you both."
Ron cleared his throat, trying without much success, to give the appearance that the bonfire's swirling smoke caused him to tear up. "Speaking of," his voice wavered. He pointed his wand toward the sunset. "I reckon it's time."
They rose together and with a last glance to each other spaced themselves around the leaping bonfire and drew their wands. For all the attention Hermione gave the incantation, she had a fleeting thought as she looked between Ron on her left and Harry on her right (both partially obscured by the flames). She prayed that they had the ability to cast this charm, regardless of their ability to speak the incantation. It required the proper combination of body, mind, and soul dwelling within three wizards. While they'd assigned themselves the roles as they saw them…magic was an unbiased judge. Before she had time to give it additional thought, she heard Harry's voice above the flames.
"Ad foederis a lex et tres paciscor." He raised his wand skyward and stared into the flames. Hermione repeated the opening verse and raised her wand with Ron following her incantation similarly. A flame shot upward, breaking from the fire below and swirling into the air until it fell to graceful embers.
"Vinculum ter infinitas," they spoke together lowering the tips of their wands into the raging fire before them. "Vinculum ter infinitas," they repeated.
"Ad corpus," Ron chanted as he pulled his wand from the fire and a blazing flame swirled high over the bonfire.
"Ad mentus," Hermione answered similarly, her own wand alight with the bonfire's flame.
"Ad animus," Harry chanted. The three trailing flames crashed together above the bonfire producing a brilliant white flame that illuminated the ground as if by daylight.
"En oraculum votum a foederis coniuro," Hermione chanted with the others. The flame from her wand was drawing closer to her hand. The heat was prickling the hair on her arm as her wand shuddered. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if they weren't doing something wrong and their wands were being destroyed as a result.
"Annulo es tres ad foederis discerpo." The flames were searing the skin on her hand as she grimaced and fought to keep pace with the others' incantation. She desperately wanted to drop her wand and conjure a cooling charm.
"Ad perdo praesentia, ad perdo valeo, ad perdo vires," she spoke through clenched teeth. It was all she could do to maintain her stance among the burning flames and violent shaking of her wand. As her body screamed for her to break the incantation, she caught a glimpse of Harry from her eye and wrapped her hand tighter around her burning wand.
"Ad corpus." She felt tempered relief to hear the strain in Ron's voice as well.
"Ad mentus," she gasped.
"Ad animus." Harry's voice sounded similarly strained.
"Ad foederis a lex et tres paciscor," they repeated together. The flames from the bonfire leapt skyward and joined the blinding white light that sat above it. "Ad foederis a lex et tres paciscor." The bonfire cackled as the piercing light shuddered down to the base of the flames. "Ad foederis a lex et tres paciscor." It took all the strength Hermione had to repeat the final incantation. She dared not look at her hand, inevitably swallowed by the fire from her wand. The three of them pulled their wands down, snapping the contact created by their flaming wands, and gasped as the swirling column of light plummeted into the bonfire. Hermione dove to her left, behind a rocky outcropping, as the bonfire exploded behind her, sending fiery embers in a shower over the sky. She realized quickly someone was beating her back. She looked up to see Ron, who'd apparently sought the same shelter, whipping his cloak against her.
"Ron?" she shouted in confusion.
"You're on fire!" he barked as he continued to swing his cloak through the air. Before Hermione had time to panic, it was over. "There," he said, gasping for breath. "It's all right," he declared as he helped her to her feet. Harry was coming around the remains of the bonfire, brushing himself off.
"Are you both all right?" he panted.
"Yes," they echoed.
"Right. Let's not do that again," Ron said in relief.
***
"Read it again, Daddy!"
"Not tonight, sweetheart. It's past your bedtime." A warm smile crossed the face of a dark-haired man. His face seemed aged beyond his years and his eyes were tired. His right hand showed the scar of a long forgotten chemical burn. His stubble tickled her cheeks as he kissed her goodnight. He leaned across the bed and extinguished the lamp with a swish of his wand. "Sleep well, Mercury. You have a big match tomorrow."
She smiled as her father pulled the door to her room closed and quietly trod down the steps. Merc lie in her bed watching the shadows dance across her ceiling. She did have a big match tomorrow. The Sheffield Starlights were set to battle for the Seven Year Old Wee Witches Cup at noon.
She turned over and looked at her broomstick, sitting idly in the corner of her room. Her eyes drifted to a well-memorized picture of a striking witch with both arms wrapped around an obvious bulge in her tummy. She laughed and fluttered about in the frame as a young version of her older brother continued to walk in and out of the photo. Her eyes continued to inspect her quiet room. Quidditch trophies and flying ribbons littered her shelves and reminded her of the task she was supposed to be falling asleep to prepare for. But she couldn't help it. Her father had made the cardinal mistake in reading her tonight's bedtime story.
She flopped over in her bed and picked up the toy wand she'd stuffed between the mattress and box spring. It wasn't good for much, but it had a weak Lumos spell that worked well in a darkened bedroom. She flicked the wand until it lit the space before her and reached for the book her father left on the nightstand.
Although she was an above average reader, the stories in this book were a bit beyond her reach. Rather than an anthology of fairy tales and children's stories, this book contained mythological tales grounded in the roots of magical and muggle history. Among her favorites were the Greek stories recounting the trials of Persephone, Hercules, and Athena. She loved to hear her father talk about her mother as if she were Aphrodite herself. She relished in the tales of the meddling goddess of love. Bearing homage to her nickname, her father usually read her the story of Hermes (or the Roman god Mercury) before key Quidditch matches. But tonight she'd managed to divert his attention to the other stories at the back of the book.
The final few chapters were composed of mythological tales from cultures aside from ancient Greece or Rome. Although read less frequently, she enjoyed the stories of the Egyptians, the Norse, the Chinese, the Native Americans, and even the early Arabic cultures. It seemed every muggle culture had devised explanations for things that were difficult to explain. Many of them drifted closer to the truth than the world's wizarding ministries would care to admit. But tonight she'd been intrigued by a muggle tale she'd never heard before.
She flipped the book open and turned the pages until she got to the back of the book. Struggling to decipher the words, she settled on searching for the pictures she'd gazed upon while hearing her father recount the story. Her hand stopped on the familiar pages he'd just read. It was a tale of crazed warrior men who charged into battle with little care for their safety or well-being. Their solemn glory was to die on the battlefield for the cause they'd chosen to honor. The illustrations showed them without armor, without cover, many without proper clothing and bare-chested in the waxing moonlight. Others deliberately wore shirts made of scratchy hairs and fibers, turned inside out, to send them into an uncomfortable frenzy.
The muggle history books could scarcely explain the existence of such formidable warriors. The "berserkers," as muggle history would dub them, inspired the very essence of fear on a battlefield. They fought without conscience or consequence. Regardless of their lack of protection, they seemed to kill more muggles than could ever kill them. Medieval muggles even added the word "berserk" to their vocabulary to describe them. That word was still used today. Merc reckoned that was why this story captivated her. It was the explanation of the origin of a word that reminded her of the nickname her father had chosen for her.
As Merc leafed through the pages, she saw the same men depicted with wands in hand. What the muggles didn't know, and couldn't have understood any better than they comprehended the existence of a berserker itself, was that these men were wizards. They used charms and enchantments to protect them on the battlefield and willingly fought wizards and muggles alike. They had little concern for their prey as long as they were victorious in the end. They were fearless. They were ruthless. They were legend. She stared down at an illustration of a berserker. His wand was clutched in his hand, his cold grey eyes leapt from the page as his long raven hair floated carelessly in the midnight air. She felt herself falling into the depths of his soulless glare when the sound of an opening door startled her.
"I said it's past your bedtime," Madam Pince scoffed as Merc picked her head up off the table. Her books were splayed across the table and her right cheek mirrored the creased paper of her Charms text. Her heart was hammering in her chest, her brain racing toward an answer that had eluded her for hours.
"I'm sorry," Merc replied as she stifled a yawn. "I should go."
"Too right," Madam Pince snapped as she returned to shelving the stack of books in her arms. Merc began to gather her things, all the while replaying the memory she'd relived in her dream. Admittedly, it was an odd dream. She'd never spent much time reliving childhood memories in her sleep. But something about this was bothersome. It wouldn't allow her heart rate to return to normal. It wouldn't keep the sweat from breaking through her palms. She searched for an answer, racking her brain for clues from the dream as it faded into oblivion.
Frustrated, she muttered, "I've lost my mind. These N.E.W.T.s will surely land me in St. Mungo's before it's all over." She shoved her books into her bag and recapped the bottle of ink next to her quill. She gave a fleeting glance to a nearby window and realized the sun had long since set. "Great, I missed dinner too," she growled as her stomach rumbled. She tossed her bag over her shoulder and began walking toward the library's massive mahogany doors. Faced with the prospect of a hungry evening, she continued to deride herself. "I mean what do Norse fairy tales have to do with Charms?"
That stopped her dead in her tracks.
She stood in the middle of the library, staring with unseeing eyes at the door in front of her. Time seemed to derail itself as she turned in place. Students were studying in slow motion. A balled up bit of parchment flew lazily toward a bin. Her mind worked at a frenzied rate to wrap itself around the truth that burst so obviously into her mind.
"Are you all right, dear?" Madam Pince's voice echoed from some distant source far away. "I said, are you all right?" It grew louder. She forced her mind to the present and saw the librarian looking at her with a mix of concern and confusion.
"Er, yeah. I'm fine," she replied.
Madam Pince huffed with indignation. "I doubt that. I've seen it before. On the verge of a breakdown you are. You should see Madam Pomfrey straight away." She walked off, muttering about the undue stress of the N.E.W.T. exams. Merc barely heard any of it. N.E.W.T.s were the last thing on her mind right now.
Just as quickly as her mind had slipped out of gear, she regained her composure. Her head snapped to the end of the book stacks where the History texts were compiled. She tossed her bag on a nearby table and bolted for the last row on the left. As she hurried along the bookshelf, her fingers played on the spines of the shelved tomes. Her eyes darted from one title to another, rapidly searching for the book that would confirm the rationale for the pit that opened in her stomach.
Her index finger trailed along a text bound in blue leather entitled, "Where Muggles Meet Magic: A Historical Discussion of Cultural Mythology." She flopped onto the floor and quickly searched the index for her quarry. Finding the entry marked, "Norse Berserkers," she turned to page 639 and her eyes flew across the page.
As she read, her heart jumped in her chest. Her breath grew short and rapid. Her finger shook as she scanned it along the paragraphs with increasing celerity. As she reached the final sentence, she looked up with blind eyes and spoke her thoughts aloud. "Riley's right. He's been here the whole time."
Giving little consideration to the sanctity of a library volume, she tore the page from the binding and leapt from her place on the floor. Without stopping to gather her things, she raced through the library entrance with one thought controlling her legs.
***
"So, do you reckon it worked?" Ron asked. Hermione was looking at her wand hand, trying to determine if her eyes were deceiving her. It looked perfectly normal. It felt as good as ever. Yet only minutes ago, when fighting to maintain her will against a searing flame, she was sure it had been engulfed in the fire. She rolled her wand over her palm, inspecting it for some mark to convince her they'd cast any enchantment at all. There was nothing awry. She glanced around, noting the dying embers of the fire Ron conjured but seeing little else to confirm their activity at all.
"I dunno," Harry replied. She noticed he was engaged in the same activity, gazing at his wand with an incredulous expression.
"I don't feel any different," Ron continued.
"Maybe we should try a spell," Harry offered. "Hermione? What do you think?"
"Huh?" she replied, only vaguely understanding he'd asked her a question.
"I asked what you thought…about testing a spell to see if the enchantment worked," Harry reiterated.
"Er, yeah," she replied, shaking herself from her reverie and getting to her feet. The others followed suit. She walked toward the dying fire and was joined by Harry and Ron at her side. "What kind of spell?" she questioned.
"Well," Harry mused. "It shouldn't matter should it? This enchantment is supposed to concentrate our magical ability. Seems like any spell we use should tell us, provided we know how powerful it was before."
"Well, I'm not volunteering for a stunner this time," Ron said. Hermione snapped her head toward his. He threw his hands in the air in submission. "Just in case," he added. Harry chuckled next to Hermione and looked around for inspiration.
"What about this?" Harry picked up a rock and set it upon the rocky outcropping overlooking the lake. "Ron, transfigure this into a mouse."
"Er, Harry," Ron hesitated. "Transfiguration is not exactly a strong suit for me."
"That's my point. It is a strong suit of Hermione's. Go on, give it a go," he encouraged. Ron pulled out his wand and pointed it toward the rock. With a swish and flick he mumbled the incantation and the rock shuddered as it burst into a two foot long rat. It jumped from the outcropping and streaked across the ground toward Ron's foot.
Before Ron could hop away to safety, Hermione jabbed her wand in its direction and shouted, "finite incantatem!" The rat disappeared, leaving only the stone skidding across the ground.
"Thanks for that," Ron gasped. Hermione burst into laughter at the look on his face and was quickly joined by Harry. They could barely hear Ron over their own cackling as he wondered aloud. "So does that mean it worked?" The question sent Hermione into another fit of giggles such that her eyes began to water.
"I think that means it worked, Ron," she replied between laughs.
"We could test a stunner on you," Harry added, wiping the tears from his own eyes.
"No, thank you." Ron kicked the rock over the edge of the cliff and stalked to where he'd lain his bag down.
"Well, one thing is for certain," Hermione said, regaining her composure. "If I didn't imagine all of that, there's no way the whole of Hogwarts didn't see that light. I wouldn't have believed it happened if I wasn't still seeing spots."
"You think Dumbledore knows?" Ron asked, pulling a jumper from his bag. Before Harry could answer he heard the gentle rush of wings settle on a branch behind him. He closed his eyes and waited, not for the soft hoot of Hedwig, but for the warming warble of a brilliant crimson phoenix.
"Fawkes," Hermione said in awe. "What does that mean?"
"It means it's time to go back to the castle. Dumbledore doesn't like for his students to be this far away from the grounds at night." As if he'd said the magic words, Fawkes gave a solemn blink of his eyes and took to the skies again.
"How do you know that?" Hermione questioned. Harry walked to his broomstick and beckoned her over.
"Let's just say I've heard that before." She gazed at him with curious eyes. "One day, remind me to tell you the story of the last trip I took up here," he mumbled as she gathered her bag and ambled to where he stood.
"Ready then?" Ron asked, floating up to where Hermione stood on the ground. She was about to send him on when she felt her eyes glaze over. She could feel it coming, and she was helpless to stop it. It was too much; it was too strong…there were so many. "Hermione?" Ron's concerned voice echoed in her head.
When it hit her, it knocked her clear off of her feet. She crumpled to the ground and gasped for breath. In a second, she felt Harry and Ron at either side of her. Although their hands clamped around her arms, they didn't try to move her. They didn't even speak. The shock of their behavior was enough to clear her thoughts. She raised her eyes and looked at them. They both had their eyes closed and seemed to be laboring under the same enemy as she was.
Harry, no doubt using his Occlumency techniques, shook his head and opened his eyes. While Ron's were still squeezed shut, Harry quickly turned his attention to Hermione. "Shield it, Hermione," he ordered.
"It's too strong," she gasped. She could feel herself slipping into the chasm Madam Pomfrey had warned her about when first introducing the concept of shielding. If Hermione couldn't shield herself from a certain emotion, be it positive or negative, she would be unable to control it and fall victim to whatever will the emotion dictated. She felt the anger welling inside her. Her blood began to race with hatred and fear.
"Hermione, look at me," Harry implored. "Fight it!" She shook her head as her eyes flashed with rage. She leapt to her feet, knocking both of them away from her, admonishing herself to find her wand so she could unleash an unforgivable curse. Somewhere in the deep recesses of her brain, buried beneath the anger, Hermione begged herself to stop. She knew she was losing the battle. "Ron," Harry's voice called out in desperation. "Help me!" Ron appeared in her blurred field of vision and stood next to Harry. "She needs our help to shield it." Ron and Harry closed their eyes and Hermione suddenly felt lighter. The fury ebbed to a manageable level. She could feel Harry and Ron's presence beside her as she struggled with the onslaught of emotion. "That's it, Hermione," Harry's voice encouraged. "Fight it!"
She worked to construct the imaginary fortress around her mind that Madam Pomfrey had given life to. As she assembled it, brick by brick, the anger washed from her blood. Before she knew it, her knees exploded in pain. She had collapsed onto the rocky surface, her chest heaving from exhaustion.
Ron and Harry ran to her side and held onto her. "Hermione?" Ron gasped. "Hermione? Are you okay?" It was all she could do to nod her head as she gasped for air. They helped her to her feet and she raised her head until the unmistakable green eyes of Harry Potter met hers.
"Does it always feel like that?" he questioned, his face etched with relief and worry at the same time. She would've smiled at the memory of a similar question she'd once asked him if she felt anything about this situation was heartening.
"No," she replied, finally managing to calm her thumping heart. Just as she was about to embellish the answer, their eyes were drawn to the flashing beams of light careening about the lawns of Hogwarts castle.
"Bloody hell! What's that about?" Ron exclaimed.
"Oh my god," Hermione whispered, the full realization of her episode crashing through her. "There are so many of them!" she gasped. That was all she needed to say. The trio raced to where Harry and Ron had discarded their brooms and mounted them simultaneously. Ron shot from the cliff with Harry and Hermione following closely behind.
With strategy born of the Quidditch captaincy, Ron pressed his broom low enough to the lake to drag his feet in the water. Harry followed suit, leaning Hermione closer to the broom handle to increase his speed. Shielding her emotions in this case meant blocking Harry's as well. She was on her own to maintain her composure at the breakneck speeds they were flying.
Reaching the edge of the lake, they pulled up sharply and careened over the canopy of the dark forest. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, redoubling her efforts to shield the emotions saturating the air. She looked down at the ground below. To her horror the very earth beneath them seemed alive. Hundreds of stalking bodies were making their way through the thinning trees, their wands leveled at the castle.
As easily as she'd detected their presence, they noted hers. "Ron! Look out!" she screamed as a blast of red light jumped from the trees and flew toward the twigs of Ron's broomstick. Without answering, he threw his weight to the right and pulled the handle of his Quasar around. He'd managed to miss the stunner by a matter of inches. But that was the least of their problems.
Now that the ground forces had been alerted to their presence, the forest erupted with multi-colored beams of light. Some marked Ron's broom, while others sped directly for Harry's Firebolt. "Hold on!" Harry barked as he dodged a purple jet of light and weaved through two stunners. Ron was flying similarly, bobbing and dodging the rays of light as they continued to fly from the trees. "Ron, pull up!" Harry shouted. The higher they flew, the more time they had to see the curses coming.
Whether Ron heard him over the flurry of whizzing hexes or not, it didn't matter. Ron pulled up and flew toward the Astronomy Tower. Harry pressed Hermione flat against the handle and sped to catch him. Just as they reached the back of his Quasar, it ignited in orange flame.
"Shit!" Ron barked as he struggled to keep his broom steady.
"Ron!" Harry yelled, unable to offer any assistance. "Get to the tower!"
Ron managed to get his broom over the Astronomy Tower's wall but lost control thereafter. He pummeled into the stoned observation deck and skidded into the wall, his broom tail still flickering with orange flames. Harry and Hermione dropped to the floor and scrambled off the Firebolt. As they dropped to his side, magical alarms sounded throughout the castle. The din was deafening.
The floor shook beneath them. They'd seen Hogwarts lockdown once before, when Sirius had managed to gain entry to the castle. Hermione recognized the distant sound of metal works as the tumblers and cross bars of every door sealed themselves against outside intrusion. The problem was, they were on the roof…and no one knew about it.
A familiar voice sounded above the foray of crashing metal doors and wildly cast spells. "Tha' door's open! Get back ter the castle you lot! Run fer it!" Harry and Hermione pulled Ron to his feet as they raced to the tower's edge to watch the scene below.
Hagrid had been conducting a twilight Care of Magical Creatures class…presumably to show a class of fourth years the luminous qualities of nocturflies. They watched as several students ran across the lawn to the one open door still spilling light onto the castle grounds. The scene had a quality eerily reminiscent of their Astronomy practical O.W.L. when Umbridge and her cronies had attacked Hagrid under the cover of darkness.
Several hooded figures darted out of the woods toward the open door. Most of the students were nearly there. One of the hooded wizards shot a stunner toward the group of frenetic students only to have Hagrid land a well-aimed arrow in his chest. The advancing intruder was knocked clear off his feet and moved no more. Hermione's hand flew to her mouth as they continued to watch the scene. All but three of the class had made it through the castle doors when one tripped.
It was a girl. They could hear her scream as the sound of her popping ankle carried all the way to their perch on the tower. Hagrid quickly turned to see her lying defenseless on the ground. Two more hooded figures sent stunners toward her but Hagrid was closer to her position. He threw himself in front of the streaming red light and was knocked backward. He stirred quickly and scrambled to pick up the girl. Hesitating momentarily, probably in astonishment that Hagrid was still moving, the hooded figures failed to make it to the castle doors before the half-giant could throw her inside. Not having enough time to scramble in the doors himself, he pulled them shut in front of him, securing the safety of his class and leaving himself alone with an advancing onslaught of enraged attackers.
"Yer not getting' in this castle if it's the las' thing I do!" Hagrid bellowed, completely helpless to make good on his threat. Hermione could hear the clamor of the door locking at his back. The advancing horde slowed to a walk and a lone figure emerged at the front of the skirmishing line.
He spoke in a voice too low to hear from the tower. The trio exchanged worried looks as Harry pulled his wand from his robes. "No," Hermione hissed. "Hagrid wouldn't want you to give our position away!"
"But we have to do something, Hermione," Harry snarled.
"Harry, please," Hermione begged. She was about to launch into a litany of reasons why trying to save Hagrid from the top of the Astronomy Tower was doomed to failure, but the sound of Harry's name issuing from Hagrid's mouth redirected their attention to the scene below.
"I told yer! I dunno where 'arry is, and I wouldn' tell yer if I did!" The hooded figure spoke in hushed tones again. He leveled his wand at Hagrid as the other attackers did the same. "I'm not afrai' o' death, an I'm certainly not afraid o' you!"
"Oh, Hagrid," Hermione moaned as she clutched Harry's arm with an ever-tightening grip. "Don't argue with them," she begged.
The cloaked form's voice grew cold and serious. They strained to hear his demand but could not make out any of the words. Hagrid's response left little room for interpretation. "Lily an' James died fer him…Sirius died fer him…Tha's right good comp'ny, that is! I'll gladly die before tellin' you lot where ter find 'im!"
Harry would've leapt from the top of the Astronomy Tower had it not been for Ron and Hermione holding him back. Between the eruption of voices below, Hagrid's taunting voice, and Harry's desperate scream, it was amazing Hermione heard the words at all. But they were as unmistakable as the flash of green light reflecting off Harry's anguished face. When the voices quieted, all that could be heard was the echo of Harry's tortured voice resonating a single word from the castle walls.
"Noooooo!"
As if things couldn't get any worse, Harry was rooted to the spot, staring down at a figure Hermione couldn't stand to think about. But she felt the triumph in their hearts. They knew where he was…and they were coming. "Harry!" she jerked on his arm. "We have to move! Now!" she screamed, tugging him backward. Ron joined in the effort and they pulled him bodily toward the door. Hermione slapped her hand along her body, trying to find the wand she'd lost track of on the cliff. Not having the time to search for it, she snatched Harry's from his hand and tried to open the door. "Alohomora!"
Nothing happened. She and Ron tried it together. Still nothing. Hermione felt the panic rise within her as the sound of approaching brooms drew closer. They were as good as dead up here. They couldn't outrun them on brooms…there were too many. They couldn't get into the castle, it was sealed. This battle was going to take place on the top of the Astronomy Tower and Harry was completely unprepared.
"Harry!" She yelled as she shook him by the arms. His blank stare was still fixed on the place he'd been standing only seconds ago. He wouldn't budge; he didn't look away. He appeared to be in shock. As her terror became palpable, she looked over her shoulder and saw the first hooded figure appear above the tower wall. In a split second, the wizard drew his wand and was quickly joined by a throng of cloaked attackers.
Thinking of nothing better to do, she opened her mouth to scream just as a flash of crimson fire erupted in front of them. Still clutching Harry, she managed the presence of mind to grab onto Fawkes' tail with her free hand. In a flash of warm fire she found herself sprawling across the staircase landing on the opposite side of the Astronomy Tower's door with Ron and Harry skidding along the flagged stone next to her.
As a flurry of raging fists pounded on the door, she and Ron clamored to their feet and grabbed Harry. They set off at a run down the tower stairs and raced along the darkened corridor. Although they were back inside the castle, they were far from safe. As she ran past the hundreds of paintings lining the walls, one thing became clear. They couldn't go to the Common Room…not a single portrait's occupant could be seen within its frame.