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The Brothers of War by elfandtroll
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The Brothers of War

elfandtroll

Disclaimer: We're still awaiting word back from Ms. Rowling on her opinion regarding the recent butt kicking given to a number of Death Eaters. However, in the interim, since they are only fictional and we're not making any money from this… gentlemen, start your engines!

Chapter 13: The-Boy-Who-Bit-My-Head-Off

It was a few days later that Ron finally awoke, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were in a right state by that time. No matter how many times Madam Pomfrey had assured them that he would recover, Molly wasn't buying it until her red haired little boy looked up and asked when the next meal was.

Although he was awake and speaking, Ron still felt has though he had been Buckbeak's plaything and had to stay in the infirmary for a few more days. Fortunately, this had kept him distracted enough to not realize that Hermione had not been by to visit.

"Harry, you're going to have to fill in as Quidditch Captain until I get out of here," Ron groaned from his bed. "Make sure that the team practices as much as her majesty, Hermione, will let us. That bloody woman's going to loose us the cup with her practice restrictions!"

That was when it suddenly dawned on him, "Speaking of Hermione, where is she? I figured she'd be here just waiting to go on about all the homework I'm behind on."

Looking down at his shoes, Harry cleared the lump from his throat and stammered, "Y-Yes. Well you see, Ron… Hermione isn't here."

"Yeah, I can see that, Harry"

"No, I mean, Hermione isn't here… at Hogwarts."

Pausing for a moment as this statement worked its way through the cobwebs of his addled brain, "Bloody Hell, Harry! She's not hurt so bad they took her to St. Mungo's, is she? What happened to her, Harry! She's not…not… dead…is she?"

"No. Well, at least we don't think so. Honestly, Ron, we just don't know."

"How can you not know, Harry. She either is or she isn't! What happened?"

"After you were hit, we stupefied the Death Eater that had gotten you. Hermione sent me out to the street to try and help while she looked after you. I had almost gotten to the street when I heard her scream. I ran back… but they took her, Ron," Harry said helplessly. "That hag Bellatrix and another Death Eater had her and they… they just apparated away." Ron's eyes widened. "I'm sorry, Ron," Harry said softly. "I shouldn't have gone. I should have stayed with her."

"It's not your fault, Harry." Ron said quietly. "If I hadn't gone and gotten myself into it, she wouldn't have had to stay to watch me. Don't blame yourself, mate. What does Dumbledore say about it? Have they tracked her down yet so we can go get her?"

"I don't know. Dumbledore won't tell me anything! He even made me promise to not go off and do anything… rash!"

"So?" Ron asked, astonished. "I mean, that's never stopped us before, has it? What's your plan, Harry?"

"That's just it, Ron! I DON'T KNOW WHERE SHE IS! I DON'T HAVE A PLAN! DON'T YOU THINK I WOULD HAVE GONE AFTER HER ALREADY IF I DID?"

Hearing the shouts, Madam Pomfrey exited her office and headed quickly towards the source of the disruption. Seeing the hospital's matriarch bearing down on them, Ron quickly grabbed Harry's robe, "Alright, Harry. Calm down! I didn't say you wouldn't. Just…" But Poppy was already upon them.

"Mr. Potter! I will not have you disturbing my patients, so I'll have to ask you to leave until such time that you can get your temper under control!" the stern Medi-Witch proclaimed with an icy glare. She looked between the two boys and with a voice of concern she took a deep breath and added, "I understand your anger over Miss Granger's kidnapping. It has us all in a fit of worry, but Mr. Weasley needs his rest and Mr. Potter, I'm sure Miss Granger wouldn't want you to neglect your studies. You may return again tomorrow… if you promise no more disruptions."

Harry looked to Madam Pomfrey, someone he seemed to spend more time with than anyone besides Ron and Hermione, and hung his head, "Yes, Ma'am." Harry muttered apologetically. "I'm sorry for causing trouble." Turning back to Ron as he walked towards the door, Harry made a promise to his friend, "I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

Ron nodded. "Right, mate. Get some sleep. Don't worry about me, I'll be back fighting Jarveys in no time." Ron grinned. "Speaking of which, how's the pompous little twit anyway?"

Looking back as he opened the door, Harry managed a chuckle. "It's funny, but he asked exactly the same thing about you." The last thing Harry heard as he left the hospital wing was Ron's groan from trying not to laugh.

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The days sped by as quickly as Harry's frustration began to mount. The-boy-who-lived had become the-boy-about-to-explode, and everyone knew it. None of the Hogwart's staff, not even Tonks, who he considered as much a friend as an instructor, told him anything about their efforts towards finding Hermione.

The students were careful in voicing any speculations regarding Hermione when he was near and surprisingly, even the ever-malicious Malfoy had sense enough to give him a wide berth. They had all hoped Ron's release from the infirmary would somehow ease Harry's resentment, but it had only made it worse. Since Ron was as much in the dark as Harry was, he had no answers to offer him. This wasn't to imply in any way that Ron was somehow blind to Hermione's absence. He wasn't. He felt the pain of Hermione's absence as acutely as Harry, and together they were a train wreck of emotions.

"I've called a DA meeting for tonight, Ron. I think it would be good to start holding them as often as possible," Harry told Ron late one afternoon as they returned to the common room.

Ron looked up from where he was sprawled on the fireside couch, "Yeah, I know. My coin heats up too, remember? You're probably right about having them as often as possible, though you're going to have problems scheduling them around Quidditch practice."

Something inside Harry snapped. "We're talking about people's lives here, Ron! I think having them learning to defend themselves is a bit more important than some pathetic Quidditch practice, don't you?" Harry said sarcastically. "You might have to have a few less practices!"

"But we're…" Ron began, but seeing the scathing look on Harry's face made him think again about who was missing, and exactly why they were missing. He nodded. "You're right. What do you say to DA on Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Quidditch on Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday?"

Realizing that he had bitten his best friend's head off for what must have been the hundredth time today, Harry relinquished, "I think that would be brilliant, Ron." Taking a moment to ponder his next step, he reached over and slapped Ron on the back, "You know, I'm beat. How about we go and get something to eat?"

Leaving his books on couch, Ron jumped up, "I'm all for that. After those days in the hospital, I could eat a Hippogriff!"

After partaking in the evening meal of Shepherd's Pie, where Ron had indeed demonstrated that he could have eaten a Hippogriff, they made their way towards the Room of Requirements.

Walking the necessary three times past the desired point in the hallway, the door made its appearance. As they let themselves in, they found that the room had configured itself in exactly the same manner as the previous year. Numerous bookcases lined the walls, all filled to capacity with books dealing with the countless methods for defending ones self. The two wizards stood silently, contemplating both the emptiness of the room and the despondent appearance of the books as they seemingly cried out for their bushy haired friend.

"Since Dumbledore went and told the whole school, do you think we'll get a lot more this year?" asked Ron as he sat on one of the room's windowsills.

"I suppose," Harry mused as he wandered down the lengths of shelves filled with books of Transfiguration, Advanced Defense, Charms, and even Potions. "I told Tonks and had someone in each of the houses put up a notice today." He frowned. "Well, every house but Slytherin, that is. Let the miserable bastards find out from Tonks."

Soon the room began to fill with original members of the DA as well as a burgeoning cast of hopefuls. Fortunately for them, since this was the Room of Requirements, the room kept expanding to meet the need for additional space. By the time Harry closed the door, the room had ballooned to the size of the Great Hall.

"All right! Quiet down!" Harry roared through the use of a Sonorus charm. The chatter gradually died down as people turned to listen. Surveying the scene before him, Harry continued. "Since our ranks seem to have grown quite a bit from before, here's what I want. Fourth years and below along that wall, then fifth, sixth, and seventh," he said pointing to the four walls. "Herm…" he started to say but drew himself up short. Taking a deep breath, he restarted "Ron will be in charge of the seventh years, Neville will be with sixth, Ginny with fifth, and Luna will be with the others. The rest of you previously in the DA, divide yourselves amongst those four and help out. Let's start with Expelliarmus drills and move on from there." After pausing to make sure there were no objections, he nodded. "Okay, let's get to it then."

The population soon divided itself into the requested groups and then subdivided into practice pairs. In no time, the shouts of Expelliarmus could be heard thundering throughout the room in tandem with the cheers of success. Much as he was on the first day of Defense class, Harry was proud to see that the members of the DA hadn't forgotten their skills and appeared to be very adept teachers themselves.

The only one seeming to be having difficulty was Neville. Trouble, not with the execution of his spells, but with the attitude of a particular sixth year Slytherin.

"This is a total misuse of my time, Longbottom," the Slytherin said scornfully. "This is something for the first years to practice! Get on to something more useful… or is this the limit of what scar head taught you?"

"Malfoy!" Harry commanded from the center of the room. "Front and center!"

Shoving some of the other sixth years aside and with a slight swagger in his step, Draco took his time making his way over to Harry.

As he holstered his wand, Harry spoke to the entire room as he leisurely walked around Draco to a point a short distance away, "Alright, everyone pay close attention! Mr. Malfoy here is going to demonstrate to us what he believes should be the proper training program."

Draco smirked as he jumped into a dueling stance, "Right you are, scar head! Oh Potty, how ever will you manage without your precious mudblood here to help you?" he taunted. Draco knew his remark had worked when he saw Harry's face turn red with anger. With Harry distracted, he began his attack.

"Conf…" he started, but it was already over. Draco was now lying motionless in a heap against the far wall of the room.

In a blur of motion, Harry had drawn his wand from within his robe and performed such a powerful Expelliarmus charm, Draco had been thrown thirty feet and rendered unconscious.

The room was quick to recover from their momentary shock and started to cheer for Harry. But his reaction to their praise was far from the result they had expected.

Harry turned his back to the vanquished Slytherin and, growing quite agitated, shouted to the rest of the room. "Do you think this is a game!? Do you think that Voldemort…" Seeing the cringe on the faces around him only increased his anger. "YES, V-O-L-D-E-M-O-R-T! GET USED TO IT, BECAUSE IN HERE WE DON'T CALL HIM YOU-KNOW-WHO! VOLDEMORT WON'T GIVE YOU A CHANCE TO THINK ABOUT WHAT TO DO AND NEITHER WILL HIS DEATH EATERS! OUT THERE, IT'S NOT A DUEL. THESE SPELLS HAVE TO BE AUTOMATIC OTHERWISE THEY - WILL - KILL - YOU, OR TAKE…" but Harry choked on the words, as he felt himself loosing control of the frustration welling up inside. He knew he had to get away.

He headed for the door and the students parted before him like Moses crossing the Red Sea. No one said a word; their fear of provoking a repeat of Malfoy's experience was all too real.

Ron rushed out the door and caught up with Harry just outside of the portrait of the Fat Lady, grabbing his sleeve to slow him down. "A bit hard on them, don't you think, mate? We're all doing our best. It's not like you're the only one who misses her you know. She's my best friend too!"

"I know, Ron! It's just that… no one is doing anything!" Harry yelled as he rounded on Ron. "Dumbledore, the Order, us! We're not doing anything to help her! We should be out there, searching, hunting down every Death Eater and forcing them to tell us where she is, not practicing Expelliarmus."

Ron's ears were turning red now, a sure sign that he too was getting upset, "What do you want us to do, Harry? Go to Knockturn Alley and start tearing the place apart until someone talks?" Ron's voice was edged with derision. "That dolt Fudge would make sure you ended up in Azkaban before we got to any Death Eaters."

Ron was pacing the hallway now, back and forth, like a tiger in a cage. "Do you have a plan, Harry? If you do, just tell me!"

Kicking a hallway chair so that it clattered down the stairs, Harry yelled in frustration, "NO, I DON'T HAVE A PLAN! That's just it! I don't and I can't stand it! It's eating me up inside. Just…just go away Ron and leave me alone for awhile," he shouted as he slammed the portrait hole closed.

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The following week moved incredibly slowly for Harry. Although he was still on speaking terms with Ron, things were tense between them and it hadn't helped that his performance at Quidditch practice was dismal. So horrible was it in fact, that twice now, Ginny had been forced to catch the snitch right out from in front of Harry's nose. The snitch, which did not seem to appreciate being ignored, had almost begun attacking him in a vain attempt to get his attention.

It was late Saturday afternoon and the sun had already hidden itself behind the snow-capped mountains to the west. The languid whispers of the shadows flowing across the Quidditch pitch were assaulted by the thunderous noise of an irate Quidditch captain.

"Harry! Get with the program will you!" Ron nearly screamed as Harry slowly drifted by on the evening breeze as it came off the lake. "You've got to get your head into the game Harry or we're going to get our arses stomped. Harry! Are you listening to me?"

The youngest seeker in 100 years was staring out over the lake, like an abandoned wife who longed for her loved one's ship to return from the sea. The shout of his name broke his reverie.

"Yes, Ron! I'm listening. The whole bloody country is listening to your screaming! Give it a rest! I'll catch the damned snitch when the time comes!" Harry responded through clenched teeth. Then, like a flash of light, a look of determination appeared on Harry's face as he turned his broom towards the changing room and started to leave. "I've had enough of this! I'm not waiting any longer!"

"Waiting for what? Harry, practice isn't over yet, where are you going?" a confused Ron called out.

But Harry didn't stop at the changing rooms, he continued on in a blur of speed across the pasture of green right up to the front doors of the castle. Jumping off his broom he heaved open the massive doors and proceeded down the halls, the sound of his boots echoing among the mammoth arches of the ceiling.

"Lemon Drop!" Harry shouted at the statue guarding the path to his destination. Seeing no response, he continued shouting everything that came to his mind as he paced, back and forth. "Sherbet Lemon! Bertie's Every Flavor Bean! Skiving Snack Boxes!" and the statue moved. Seeing his opening, he raced up the steps and into the entry. As he reached out to pound on the inner door and announce his presence, he was stopped by the words, "Come in Harry. I've been expecting you for some time."

Harry spun the door handle and stormed into the room, broom still in hand. "When are you going to do something?" he demanded. "It's been over two weeks and we haven't a word on her whereabouts. No demands, no ransom, nothing! Don't you care about her? How can you just sit there and do nothing!"

Dumbledore raised his hands in mock surrender. "Harry, please come in and have a seat, won't you?" he said motioning to one of the large overstuffed chairs in front of his desk. Lifting a large ornate canister from his desk and holding it out to Harry he asked, "Lemon Drop? I have found that they can be quite soothing when one is under a great deal of stress." But seeing that Harry was undaunted and was continuing his frustrated stroll around the office, he tried again. "Harry. Please, come and sit down. Wearing a path into the floor of my office will not help Ms. Granger. Please, sit down."

Harry stopped and flopped down into the appointed chair, glaring at the headmaster. He wasn't leaving until he knew what was happening, or more accurately, why things weren't happening. "I want some answers, Professor. I'm not some little first year anymore and I'm tired of being kept in the dark! Have you found out anything?"

After a long silence, Dumbledore said, his voice tinged with regret, "No, Harry. I'm afraid we still haven't a clue as to the location of Ms. Granger." Seeing Harry's eyes flash with anger, Dumbledore quickly continued. "That is the truth, Harry. We have every member of the Order, including Professor Snape when he isn't teaching his classes, out looking for information. That is why you haven't begun your Occulmency lessons yet, as important as they are."

As Dumbledore leaned back into his chair, he looked to Harry as if he had aged another hundred years in the past few minutes. Seeing the saddened look on his mentor's brow, the flame of his own frustration blew out. "I… I'm sorry, Professor. I know you are doing everything possible. I just can't stand the waiting."

Looking down now at the broom lying across his lap, Harry almost whispered, "I… I miss her, Professor. I don't know what I'd do if…"

"Of course you miss her, Harry," Dumbledore said gently. "You have become very close to Miss Granger over the years and I would expect nothing less from a person of your deep seated caring for others. Therefore, we must continue to have hope and trust that she will be found."

Rising up, Dumbledore stepped around his desk and placed his hand on Harry's shoulder, "I promise Harry, that I will inform you when we have found out anything of value. And again, I must ask of you, do not do anything on your own. If you were to have any ideas or discover any new information, please bring it to me."

Walking over and opening the office door, the Headmaster smiled and said to his much calmer student, "Now, I suggest that you return to your room and get some sleep. Perhaps a good night's rest will provide you and Mr. Weasley a chance for a fresh start tomorrow."

Harry stopped and looked up as he exited the doorway, "Thank you, Professor," he said softly. "I apologize, sir. I'm sorry to have lost my temper like that."

"Not at all, Harry. We are all concerned for the safety of our beloved Miss Granger, you more so than most." Dumbledore smiled. " I'll see you tomorrow, then. Off you go."

Slowly making his way down the stairs and through the dimly lit castle, Harry eventually made it to his dorm in Gryffindor tower. There, on a Saturday night no less, he found what must have been a thoroughly exhausted Ron already asleep. Stifling a deep yawn himself, he decided that retreat, or in his case sleep, was the better part of valor.

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Harry took it upon himself and made a conscious effort to hold his temper and pay a bit more attention to other's feelings over the following weeks. This had a marked influence on those around him, as they were no longer as anxious about him becoming the-boy-who-bit-my-head-off.

He found the classes only he and Hermione had together the hardest. For it was at these times that Harry had to sit by himself, painfully missing the gentle prodding and encouragement of his bushy haired friend.

Professor Flitwick stood upon the stack of books on his desk and summoned the attention of the surrounding students. "Today, we are going to discuss the Aparecium charm and some variations on it. As you may remember, this charm is used to reveal the hidden wording of a document written in invisible ink. Variations of this charm can be used to reveal the hidden meaning or location of other objects," pausing he looked sadly towards Harry, "but only inanimate objects I'm sorry to say."

"Oh, my father sure wishes he could do a spell like that!" chuckled Penelope McFadden, a Ravenclaw girl whose parents were Muggles. "He's always looking for the lost remote for the telly." Noticing the looks of bewilderment on her fellow student's faces, she quickly realized that they had no idea what in Merlin's name she was talking about.

"Ah yes, I see," added Flitwick. "The Locus distinctus charm requires that the object you are seeking be linked somehow to the object you are performing the spell upon." Holding up a tube of toothpaste for the class to see, "For example, after performing the charm - Locus distinctus - on this toothpaste, I hold my wand thusly," as he placed his wand flat onto the palm of his hand, "and complete the spell with - Declaro." The wand spun in the professor's hand and pointed to a shelf across the room. Jumping down from his pedestal of oft-used reading material, he lightly danced his way across the room to show his toothbrush resting upon the indicated shelf.

"Now, as I said previously, this charm only works upon objects that have a familiar pairing." With a devilish grin, he looked again to Miss McFadden, "So I'm afraid it can't be used to reveal to you the perfect dress for the Halloween Ball."

Professor Flitwick went on to discuss the theory behind these charms, but Harry wasn't really listening. Something was nagging him at the back of his mind, a feeling he couldn't quite put his finger on. But try as he might, he just couldn't force the thought to make an appearance and the harder he tried, the more elusive the feeling became. So, he simply gave up and turned his mind back to the task at hand.

Class ended after more than an hour of painfully boring theory. The only thing keeping them interested was the hint by Flitwick that this information would typically be found on their NEWTs exams. As Harry left the classroom, Dean and Seamus stopped him in the hall.

"Harry, DA again tonight?" asked Seamus.

"Yeah. You'd think people would remember which three nights of the week it is, but I suppose I should remind everyone anyway," grumbled Harry.

"Why don't you just use your coin, Harry. Let everyone spread the word that way," added Dean.

Harry stopped and his head snapped to his right to look at Dean, "What did you say?"

Fearing that he had done something to really upset Harry, Dean answered in a hesitant voice, "I… I just said why don't you use your coin. I didn't mean anything by it, honestly Harry!"

"Merlin, that's it! How could I be so dense!" Slapping Dean on the back, Harry started running down the hallway, "Dean, you're brilliant! I'll meet you and the rest of the DA in the room in a few minutes! Except I only want the original DA members. Okay? Thanks!" He dashed off, running full speed towards the stairs.

Dean and Seamus stood in the hall, rather confused about what had just happened, but confirmed Harry's request. "Alright, Harry. Whatever you say!" They called after him, but Harry had already rounded the corner. They glanced at each other, shrugged, and headed off to collect the other DA members.

An hour later the original DA members had gathered in the Room of Requirements. The sudden warmth in their pocket had alerted those who still carried their coin. They in turn had alerted the others.

"What's going on, Harry?" Ron asked urgently. "It can't be that cow Umbridge. She's in Azkaban!"

Harry closed the door to the room. Turning back to the anxious group staring back at him, "Everyone, have a seat. No Ron, but thanks to Dean we might have a way to find Hermione."

"Me?" blurted out Dean, "What on earth are you talking about, Harry?"

"It was you who reminded me about Hermione's DA coin. Something was eating at me through the whole charms class and that was it." Harry started an exuberant pacing now in front of the group. "Flitwick had said the Locus distinctus only worked on objects that were related and not on people. But we all have something that is linked to Hermione, her coin. And I know that Hermione never went anywhere without hers. She said it brought her good luck."

"Bloody Hell, Harry. You might have something here!" shouted Ron as he leapt up from his seat on the floor. "When do we go?"

But then, from the now open doorway they heard an all too familiar voice say cheerfully, "Wotcher, Harry. Go where?"