A/N: Hi, everyone! Once again, thanks to all my awesome possum reviewers! I love you guys! Okay, enough exclamations. I just want to say that this chapter was the very first scene I thought of for this story, and the idea sort of went from there. So, while you're reading, keep in mind that this chapter has been almost a year and a half in the making! I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer-Do not own any of this, except the plot and a few characters.
Chapter 11-Powers of Persuasion
"Luna!" Hermione's hand muffled her exclamation so that it was barely audible, but the trio was already in action. Like in the end of some dreams when she could feel each layer of consciousness as she rose through them to wake, Hermione felt herself and her two companions rising through the layers of Adam's memory.
Instantly her two feet were back on solid, true ground and she staggered slightly at the touchdown.
"We have to go to her," said Ron in a determined tone that brooked no argument.
Hermione nodded, surprised that he hadn't already Apparated out of the flat. She felt in the side pocket of her trousers where her wand was kept, and patter it satisfactorily. In times of danger, she knew from experience, one usually could not do better than having one's wand and one's head-as well as one's friends to watch one's back.
"Let's go," said Harry, who was fully into Auror mode. He grabbed the shiny rectangular object he had in his pocket, which Hermione recognized as being the communicator Aurors used amongst their ranks. "I'm telling Persephone to call for back up," he explained, and Ron and Hermione impatiently fidgeted as Harry sent his partner a text of the possible situation, the address to Luna's father's house where Ron had said she was visiting, and request reinforcement.
All Hermione could think about was getting to Luna before it was too late. They had almost solved the mystery-or at least how all the victims were connected. She could still see burning in her mind the faces of Charlotte and Mark as Adam remembered them.
Harry returned the communicator to his pocket and the three wizards prepared themselves for Apparation. Hermione shut her eyes tightly, trying to block out the worries and fears that insisted on intruding into her focus on Mr. Lovegood's house. She had only visited the place once or twice, so it was of vital importance that she visualized the destination correctly. Without another word, three faint pops erupted in Hermione and Harry's flat and they were gone.
The neighborhood around Luna's childhood home was eerily silent, or maybe it was just that in Hermione's experience, night so quiet that she could hear the blood pounding in her veins was almost always accompanied by an overwhelming sense of foreboding. The trio raced up the end of the drive and went around the back of the house to the kitchen entrance there. Ron reached out to grasp the door handle but Harry grabbed his arm before he made contact.
"Hold on Ron, maybe I should check it out first," whispered Harry, moving to the front of the group and retrieving his wand from his robes.
Ron glared at him angrily, using the advantage of his longer limbs to reach around Harry and clutch the handle of the back door. "It's my wife, Harry," he hissed, "and I'm perfectly capable." With that he pushed open the heavy door and stepped inside the kitchen, his wand drawn and his eyes darting around in search for his wife.
Hermione saw her first, lying on her side with the scattered remains of what appeared to be her dinner beside her. She pointed and gasped, "Ron!"
He was on the floor beside her in an instant, smoothing her long, dirty blond hair away from her face and feeling her neck for a pulse. "She's alive," he announced, sighing in relief. Harry cursed under his breath in a grateful way and turned away, running his hand through his hair and making it stand on end.
But Hermione was in her element-she had had minor training in healing after the war, but one look at Luna told her that she needed to act quickly and get someone more experienced to save her. "Ron," she said, assuming her natural commanding presence, "go to St. Mungo's immediately and bring some Healers back here. I can keep her stable for a while, but if it's hemlock, then we don't have much time. The poison is attacking her nervous system and we need to get her help quickly. Can you do that?"
Ron nodded firmly and clenched his jaw and he wordlessly sprinted from the house and down to the Apparition point.
Hermione looked back at Harry, who had moved around the prostrate form of Luna and was studying the scene with frightening detachment. "This wasn't an accident," he said finally, indicating the broken bowl on the floor and the absence of any hemlock bottle in the vicinity.
Hermione made a noise of assent, having noticed that as well, and returned to her ministrations on Luna. She was finding it difficult to remember the healing spells she had learned so only a few years before and she couldn't afford to be distracted. "Harry, maybe Persephone didn't get your page-should you go see what's taking the rest of the Aurors so long?" she suggested without looking up.
"Are you sure?" he asked hesitantly.
"We need to find out who's done all this," she replied, gritting her teeth in determination. "We can't let them get away again."
Harry's mouth was set in a grim line but he honored her wishes by Apparating to the Ministry after muttering, "I'll be right back," and quickly kissing her cheek.
Hermione performed the final spell that would stabilize her friend and held her breath as she cast, "Enervate." The blonde's eyelids fluttered for a moment before opening in the permanently surprised way that Hermione was so used to seeing. Her large blue eyes flitted around the room as though looking for someone and then finally settled on Hermione as though she were trying to tell her something. "Luna, try to stay calm. You've been poisoned and we need to keep your heart rate low so it won't spread faster," Hermione warned. "You can't speak just yet, so just blink once for no and twice for yes, all right?"
Luna blinked twice, her eyes somehow conveying her effort to compose herself.
"Do you know who did this to you?" Hermione took a deep breath, feeling guilty for interrogating her friend while toxic poison was coursing through her body, but unable to just do nothing. In the back of her mind, she wondered what the hell was taking Harry and Ron so long.
As though she had been summoned, Persephone Perris burst through the door, clutching a stitch in her side after apparently taking the path up the drive and around the house at a run. "Hermione! Where's Harry? I just got his page!" she said between breaths.
Hermione tensed, suddenly worried about her boyfriend that she had sent away. "He went looking for you-at the Ministry!" she replied. A slight pressure on the hand that was cradling the blonde's head caused her to look down at Luna, who had regained enough mobility to tilt her head back so that it was crushing Hermione's fingers. Luna was blinking furiously, her eyes darting away and back to Hermione's, as Hermione struggled to make out Luna's meaning.
Suddenly, with cold fingers of dread climbing up her spine, Hermione understood the message Luna was trying to send. Blink twice, look away and back. Blink twice, and look away. Hermione followed Luna's eyes and found herself staring at the business end of Persephone's wand. Her gaze continued upward until she met the cool blue eyes of the Auror that she had begun to trust so much.
"I'll wait while you catch up with the rest of the class," Persephone said sarcastically, her heavy completely normal.
Hermione was immobile as a barrage of images flashed in her brain-
A petite brunette with stunning blue eyes rose shyly as Hermione entered her office for their first session.
"Good morning, you must be Persephone," said Hermione warmly, holding out her hand to be shaken. She noticed the girl was probably a little bit younger than her and despite the fact that she was a little on the thin side, she seemed to carry a weight common to every young soldier who had fought in the war.
The girl offered a weak smile out of politeness and cleared her throat to speak. "Yeah, Persephone Perris," she answered quietly. She shook Hermione's hand limply and at Hermione's indication returned to her seat.
Hermione wandlessly initiated the action of the quill that would be transcribing that morning's session, something she didn't often do without a wand since she had mastered only a few very simple spells. "Is that all right?" she asked of Persephone, whose eyes widened at the display of wandless magic. She considered the floating quill as it recorded the date and her name, and shrugged her shoulders, hiding behind a veil of indifference how impressed she was. Hermione took a deep breath and began. "So Persephone, why are you here?"
At this question, Persephone visibly paled and her face took on a pained expression. "I'm here because my brother died and I don't want to miss him anymore," she said, choking on her words as she valiantly tried to keep the tears from piercing her battle-hardened exterior.
Hermione leaned forward, her compassion for the poor girl sincere, and offered her a tissue to wipe her eyes. "In the war?" she asked, not needing to use the word 'die' to clarify her meaning.
Persephone nodded slowly and took the proffered tissue, using it blow her nose before continuing. "I know that it was a long time ago-two years now-but Thomas and I were together every day of our lives. We were all each other had…" she trailed off, her eyes unseeing as they stared into the flames of the faux fireplace.
"It's all right to miss him, Persephone," Hermione said gently, breaking the minute-long silence. She had been observing the younger girl and couldn't help feeling some kind of kinship with her, as though she was what Hermione might have become if Harry or Ron hadn't survived the war.
The face Persephone returned was furious. "Don't act like you know me already-you don't know anything about me!" she shrieked, half-rising from her chair as though she were going to leave. Then her expression slackened and a calm detachment settled across her features as she sank back into her chair with her head in her hands. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I know that this is your job, it's just so hard to forget him."
Hermione had been motionless but watchful during Persephone's brief tirade. She was aware that sometimes it was the people who seemed most harmless-like this young girl-could be the most dangerous when riled. She spoke kindly to the girl, wanting more than anything to help her through her grief. "But you don't have to."
Hermione felt herself being sucked upward and out of the memory by an invisible vacuum. When she seemed to slam into reality, she reached up and felt her pounding head. Through the haze of pain she saw Luna still on the ground, slipping back into unconsciousness with every moment a Healer was delayed, and Persephone's smug yet malevolent expression. She instinctively groped for her wand, but felt nothing in the pocket where she ordinarily kept it.
"Tsk tsk, Hermione," scolded Persephone with an almost playful tone. "Forget where you placed your wand?" she taunted, holding up the vine wood of Hermione's wand, something Hermione never wanted to see in the hands of an enemy.
"It was you?" Hermione demanded, still trying to process it all. Persephone had been her client at some point-and now she had murdered at least two people! Hermione eyed the brunette warily lest the fully trained Auror decided to fire.
Persephone didn't answer right away but made a show of flourishing Hermione's wand. "I would have been disappointed indeed if the Brightest Witch of the Age couldn't solve this one," she said finally with a smug smirk. "Of course, I had to add some complications in there, things couldn't be too easy or it would all be over before we got to this point! I had to have your case files confiscated too obviously. I daresay you suspected me all along, but I had to make you forget," she explained with a long-suffering sigh, as though the effort was expended for Hermione's own good. "You should really trust your instincts," she advised sweetly.
"Then why did you get me out of my arrest at the Ministry?" Hermione asked curiously.
Persephone rolled her eyes. "Doyle's little detective work was not part of the plan. I needed you for something else, which you will most likely find out about in due time. If you cooperate, that is," Persephone warned, her blue eyes glittering ominously.
Hermione then realized with a discomfiting start that all those niggling feelings of doubt or misgiving that she had been feeling in the presence of Persephone were tangible effects of her memory manipulation. "So you're a mnemomagus then?" she said more calmly than she felt. While she was still reeling with all the information that was thrown at her in the last few minutes, a ripple of unmitigated anger was uncoiling from the pit of her stomach and traveling throughout her body. She had at last found the person behind the murders of those close to her and she wanted to make Persephone pay for it. But the last thing she wanted to do was provoke an attack from a very skilled witch while she was without a shield. She attempted to stall, hoping somehow that Harry or Ron would overcome whatever Persephone had done to their memories and show up before anything happened.
Persephone smiled as though genuinely amused. "Full of questions today, aren't we? Yes, I discovered the ability some time at Hogwarts. It's come in handy more than once, I can tell you… And then everything fell apart." Her face grew steadily stonier as she spoke until she was practically spitting out the last words.
"Your brother died," guessed Hermione, unwillingly sympathetic to the lost soul before her.
Her words were not the wisest. Persephone's already bitter expression turned stormy and sparks shot from the ends of both wands. "Don't you dare talk about him! You didn't even know him!" she erupted angrily.
Hermione had barely enough time to dive out of the way before a jet of red light shot past her. Immediately her body went into battle mode and she scrambled off the floor and around a corner that led to the front of the house. She searched her mind for something that would distract Persephone from Luna and hopefully protect the blond until help arrived-if it ever would. "But it obviously makes you upset," she pointed out, wondering if it were too late to reach through to the Persephone she thought she knew.
"Of course it makes me upset! I went to you for help, and you-you made me remember him when all I wanted to do was forget!" she shouted with a frightening mixture of fury and composure, aiming another curse toward Hermione's cover. It ricocheted off the wall's plaster. Somehow, Persephone's seeming self-possession was more terrifying than if she had dissolved into tears of fired spells blindly.
Hermione was shocked at the ostensible accusation that she was the cause for Persephone's murderous behavior. "Is that why you've done all this? Is this why you've attacked innocent people!?" she replied incredulously.
Persephone laughed sardonically. "They weren't all innocent," she said darkly.
Hermione thought to her friend lying on the floor, dying from a poison employed by the young woman near her. She was about two seconds from strangling the Auror herself. "Luna is pregnant! Did you ever think of that?!" she said through gritted teeth.
Hermione could practically hear Persephone's shrug in her reply. "An oversight, but no matter. In fact, it's rather perfect that you're here alone since that will make this all so much easier."
"What do you mean?" Hermione said uneasily.
"Oh Hermione, think about it. You're already a suspect in the poisonings of three other people. Who would question it if I arrested you here for the fourth?" Persephone said with her throaty laugh.
"Harry would never allow that," said Hermione though she wasn't so sure, since neither of her best friends were anywhere to be found.
"Hermione, all of the Occlumency training in the world can't save you if you don't know you're being attacked," Persephone said rationally. "And don't expect either Harry or Ron to show, since they've conveniently forgotten everything that's happened in the last few hours and are probably out enjoying a nice pint or two-not that they won't play a part to come," she said mysteriously, the heels of her thick heeled boots clinking on the wooden floor as she paced around the kitchen.
"So it was you badge that was found. And Doyle?" Hermione said, grasping at straws for someone who might prove her innocence.
"Oh he genuinely thinks you're guilty, but he's a little on the strange side and that worked to my advantage. When put next to me, who would expect that I would be the one changing all the testimonies? It's just poor record keeping," she explained. "And Mark won't help you either, since technically he remembers you being with him in the storeroom all those times I had to borrow the hemlock. Face it, Hermione, you're finished," she said with a superior tone.
Hermione's eyes darted around the part of the kitchen that she could still see. If she sprinted, she might make it out the door and to the Apparition point without sustaining major injuries. But that would leave Luna unprotected-Not that I'm doing the greatest job now, Hermione thought with irritation-and she doubted it would be that easy to escape anyway. She figured her best bet was to keep the brunette talking so that she could think of a way out of the mess she had gotten herself into. "You said that not all of the people were innocent. Why are you doing this?"
The young woman appeared to seriously consider the question. She began speaking almost to herself, words that she had probably been repressing for years. "Thomas was killed by someone on our side, 'accidental friendly fire.' That person, that fool, took everything from me in a single, pointless moment. So obviously, I had to avenge his death, and in order to do that I had to pick off one by one the people fighting near him. There was Charlotte Fairclough, Adam Finnin, Mark Bonner, and Ms. Weasley nee Lovegood here."
The situation sounded strangely familiar. "Persephone, we can talk about this. It doesn't have to be this way," she said earnestly, hoping that Persephone wasn't so far gone as to refuse an offer of help. "You've been carrying this alone for so long, let me help you work through the anger."
"You're so predictable, Hermione. You said that to me once before too, don't you remember?Only someone as presumptuous as you would think that there's still a chance at this point to talk me out of this. Then again I am speaking to the girl who started an entire practice of therapy without an ounce of experience. Let me guess, you thought, 'Hell, I know a thing or two about grief, why don't I counsel people?'? You wanted-you tried-to help me, and you failed-just like you failed Robert," the brunette taunted callously.
"What do you mean?" Hermione said again, feeling a twinge of fear of where the conversation might be heading.
"Ooh, I've struck a nerve haven't I?" she replied gleefully. "Robert Henderson, twenty-one years old, Magical Law Enforcement officer, sandy-blond hair and gray eyes, wand of mahogany and unicorn hair, no family," she recited. "Hermione Granger, always one to be afraid of failure, fails to save Robert Henderson from a simple flesh wound."
Hermione's head shot up at the last remark. "That's not what happened. You don't know what you're talking about," she argued angrily, but she could admit to herself that she wasn't sure that she remembered anything properly at this point. The voice of doubt was speaking plainly in her head.
"Oh but I do," Persephone replied and Hermione heard the distinctive crinkle of parchment as though the Auror was removing a sheet from her robes. "Ah, Harry's your support network, how sweet," she said scathingly.
Hermione recognized her own words from the missing page from the testimony she had committed to parchment at the start of her practice as a psychotherapist. "How did you get that?" she demanded.
"I stole it of course, it must have slipped your mind," Persephone replied, amused at her own joke.
Hermione was dumbstruck. "And you've just been carrying it around?!"
"Of course! You never know when inspiration will strike!" she replied cheerfully. "Like…NOW!" she shouted suddenly.
Hermione felt the mordant effect of Persephone's power immediately and couldn't fight the waves of memory washing over her.
"Please, someone please help me!" a muffled voice begged several meters away.
"I'm going, cover me," a young woman commanded the bewildered red-headed wizard beside her. Without waiting for his reply, she tucked her wand into the back pocket of her jeans and ran out from behind the makeshift fort consisting of an overturned carriage. Every one of her senses was muted, their energy diverted to her movement as she ran toward the pleading voice. She wouldn't remember until later the wreckage on either side of her path, nor the shouts and grazing of curses around her.
She now saw why the voice had been hard to follow-its owner had suffered a deep gash in his neck, mere inches from his windpipe. When he saw Hermione, he grabbed her wrist tightly and rasped, "Please help me! I-didn't-see them-coming."
Making what she hoped were soothing noises, Hermione wracked her brain for any appropriate healing spell and in the meantime tore off a piece of her shirt to hold it to the wound. The cloth was almost immediately soaked through with blood and Hermione felt the first twinge of fear that this poor soul wouldn't make it.
She looked down into the man's face for the first time. "Help me…" he gasped before his eyes rolled back into his head and he laid motionless forever more.
Hermione stood up, wiping the dust from her trousers, and made the journey back to cover.
"That's not how it happened!" Hermione shouted through a haze of pain lingering from Persephone's intrusion into her memories. She willed herself to remain clear-headed, to not believe anything that she had just witnessed, but she couldn't help the overwhelming feeling of guilt rising within her. Could she have done more to save Robert? Hermione shook her head and concentrated on the air flowing in and out of her lungs to keep her mutinous thoughts at bay.
Persephone's voice was oscillating louder and softer in volume as she paced around the kitchen. "Did you ever wonder why you were suddenly struck by nightmares about him a year ago? You see, dreams are where you're most vulnerable. A slight suggestion on my part of the way something went and then your mind doesn't know what to think. It's oddly satisfying to watch someone reprogram themselves. Takes a lot out of you too, especially within wards like we are now. I will definitely sleep well tonight," Persephone said lightly, stifling a fake yawn.
The news that Persephone had been playing with her mind for at least a year came as an unwelcome shock to Hermione. She had barely enough time to prepare herself before she felt another piercing pain in her forehead.
"Please, someone please help me!" a muffled voice begged several meters away.
"I'm going, cover me," a young woman commanded the bewildered red-headed wizard beside her. Without waiting for his reply, she tucked her wand into the back pocket of her jeans and ran out from behind the makeshift fort consisting of an overturned carriage. Every one of her senses was muted, their energy diverted to her movement as she ran toward the pleading voice. She wouldn't remember until later the wreckage on either side of her path, nor the shouts and grazing of curses around her.
She now saw why the voice had been hard to follow-its owner had suffered a deep gash in his neck, mere inches from his windpipe. When he saw Hermione, he grabbed her wrist tightly and rasped, "Please help me! I-didn't-see them-coming."
Hermione ignored his pitiful pleas and set to work, tearing off a piece of her shirt to stop the flow of blood from his wound. Almost immediately the cloth was soaked and whatever curse it was that had made the wound seemed to have some component that made it resistant to healing spells. She tore another piece of her shirt off before realizing that she no longer felt a pulse. Glancing down, she noted that the man's eyes were half-closed and he had stopped breathing. A curse that came close to hitting her brought her back to reality and she swiftly retreated to the safety of cover.
"Stop it, just leave me alone!" The words flew out of her mouth before she could think. There was no shame in it, just a panicked desperation to rid her mind of the burning images of her failure.
Persephone's guttural laugh sounded through the otherwise silent kitchen. "Uh oh, someone is on the verge of mental collapse," she said flippantly. "I must say, I always knew you and Harry were going to end up together-memories involving one's love are the hardest to change."
"Please, someone please help me!" a muffled voice begged several meters away.
"I'm going, cover me," a young woman commanded the bewildered red-headed wizard beside her. Without waiting for his reply, she tucked her wand into the back pocket of her jeans and ran out from behind the makeshift fort consisting of an overturned carriage. Every one of her senses was muted, their energy diverted to her movement as she ran toward the pleading voice. She wouldn't remember until later the wreckage on either side of her path, nor the shouts and grazing of curses around her.
She now saw why the voice had been hard to follow-its owner had suffered a deep gash in his neck, mere inches from his windpipe. When he saw Hermione, he grabbed her wrist tightly and rasped, "Please help me! I-didn't-see them-coming."
Hermione didn't even think to use her extensive knowledge of healing spells. Her wand lay useless in her back pocket as she tore a piece of cloth from her shirt to at least try to stop the blood. It was almost immediately soaked through and soon the young man began to choke. Hermione recognized that there was little else she could do and decided it would be safer to return to cover rather than remain in the open. She wasn't even with him when he died.
Hermione said nothing at all when Persephone's invasive presence retreated but sunk to the floor in a wretched heap. She saw the looming shadow as Persephone stepped around the corner and she couldn't even muster the energy to be frightened. Frankly, her death would be just payment for leaving Robert to die. She just hoped that Luna would be okay.
Persephone roughly nudged Hermione's foot with her own. She bent down and hissed into Hermione's ear. "It will be even better when Harry testifies against you. He'll probably be haunted forever by the memories of seeing you poison your best friend's wife because you were having an affair with her husband. In fact, he'll probably need a support network of his own, and guess who will be right there to help him out?"
Hermione's head had fallen forward in dejection with each of Persephone's words. As much as she didn't want to believe that she was capable of any of it, with Persephone's voice in her ear she thought that she justly deserved whatever Persephone decided to do with her now. At the end of the day, she was still just a murderer. Would Harry stand by her as she had stood by him all those years ago?
Harry. Her mind seized upon the word and her heart swelled with the love she felt for the man she was proud to call her best friend first and foremost. She had been there with him through every step of growing up and learning who he was as a wizard and a person. And, she realized with a start, she had helped him. She could remember every moment exactly.
First year: Hermione lugged the box up yet another step as flames shot through the air holes on top. She hoped against hope that she wouldn't be caught out of bounds for this, but she and Harry had to save Hagrid from getting in trouble for having an illegal dragon…She smiled to herself as Harry read the riddle aloud. Most wizards were skilled at showy charms and complicated spellwork, but did not have an ounce of sense. She was impressed, but looking over at a harassed-looking Harry would suggest that he felt otherwise.
Second: She re-read the passage once more to be certain. A basilisk was roaming freely around Hogwarts! But how did such a huge snake travel unnoticed by anyone? It suddenly struck her: pipes. She scrawled the word across the bottom of the page and tore it out, ignoring the twinge of guilt for desecrating a book. Armed with a hand mirror to peek around corners just in case, she quickly ran from the library to tell Harry and Ron what she had found out.
Third year: Three turns later and she and Harry had landed again in the hospital wing. Soon she was burying her head in his back as they soared through the air on the back of the hippogriff they had just rescued. All she could think about was getting back on solid ground and Harry's godfather to safety.
Fourth year: She corrected Harry's wand movement yet again as they entered their eighth hour of practicing. She vowed not to go to bed until Harry mastered the Summoning Charm.
Fifth year: She placed the Protean Charm on the basket of fake galleons, proud that even if she wasn't the best participant in Dumbledore's Army, at least she could help Harry go under Umbridge's nose somehow anyway.
There were so many that zoomed through her mind, but the most significant she fixated on longest.
She was running on three days without sleep, but she sensed that the end was near and drew on whatever reserved of energy she had stored deep within her. Harry was looking forward stonily and had only said a handful of words all day, which frankly worried her. Perhaps he too noticed something like finality floating through the air. The sun wasn't meant to set for another three hours but the mist clinging to the ground everywhere those days shrouded the world in cold and depressing blanket.
"Are you cold?" he said, not looking at her but at the expanse of Hogwarts grounds by Hagrid's hut.. His voice was gruff from lack of use and her heart ached that everything had come to this. She wasn't sure how many more defeats their side could take.
She stared ahead into the nothingness following his example, not that they were looking for anything anyway. "Yeah, but so are you," she said, her words sounding empty and hollow.
To her surprise, Harry snorted and then full-out laughed. "I don't think I've been properly warm since August," he joked. His grin was contagious and the pair soon found themselves giggling uncontrollably over something they couldn't even name.
Suddenly a rustling noise sounded in the bushes nearby and their laughter abruptly cut off. Harry grabbed her hand, voicing without words what she had been thinking. From the direction of the forest came the ambush of Death Eaters they had been expecting.
Harry squeezed her hand, his eyes meeting Hermione's in a silent communication of warning, before they drew their wands to alert the rest of the Order. Somehow she knew that this battle would determine everything.
Several hours later, Hermione was pressing her side where a curse had pierced her clothing and created a gash on her side. She had already performed the customary healing spell to stem the flow of blood, but something in the spell had kept it from coagulating properly and that, combined with the little food she had gotten over the past few days made her woozy and light-headed. Her wound from the last big battle was still stinging and to top it all off, she had lost Harry somewhere in the fray.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" hissed a high-pitched voice. A figure emerged from the shadows, sweeping in front of her with billowy black robes.
Her eyes widened as Lord Voldemort looked her over with depreciatory scrutiny before she set her lips in a firm line and held her head high, not bothering with a response.
"Not going to observe the pleasantries, are we?" he taunted rhetorically. "Well, of course I know who you are. You're Harry's little mudblood friend-Miss Granger, is it?"
He circled around her shark-like but still she did not reply. She had an idea how the Dark Lord knew about her, as he counted Professor Snape among his numbers.
Her head snapped to the right as crunching leaves announced a new arrival. "Leave her alone, your fight's with me," said Harry menacingly to the man that had effectively brought them all to this confrontation.
Voldemort sneered though his tone was all feigned politeness. "Forgive me for disobeying. I must say though, thank you for saving me the trouble of orchestrating a baited trap with this one here," he said, indicating Hermione. "You always did love to play the hero, Harry, but this time there's no Dumbledore to save you. You're all alone."
Harry opened his mouth to make a scathing reply when he was interrupted. "He's not alone," said Ron without a quaver in his voice. The redhead moved forward and stood beside Harry, wand drawn. Harry sent him a look that told him to back down but Ron was steadfastly ignoring it.
"He's got friends," said Hermione, boldly stepping forward to Harry's other side and removing her hand from her side to draw her wand as well. "Which is more than anyone can say for you."
Voldemort regarded the trio in incredulity before emitting a maniacal laugh. "Such loyalty, Harry," he said in amused wonder. "If you all weren't so stupidly noble, I might not have believed it."
Hermione, Harry, and Ron looked at one another and silently counted down, praying that hours of Hermione's research would pay off in the single spell that might perhaps alter the course of the future. The combined spell hit Voldemort straight on, the lines converging until the intensity was too much to bear and they had to look away. When they turned back, nothing was in Voldemort's place but an overly singed set of robes and a column of shapeless smoke. They stared at one another silently, each of them tensed in case the spell had somehow failed and Voldemort was still alive.
Minutes passed and all they could hear was screams of pain from where the fight had continued. Hermione could see Death Eaters doubled over in the distance, clutching their arms and howling in misery.
"It's over," Harry breathed as though still trying to accept it.
Ron and Hermione nodded in unison. "Well, that was a bit anticlimactic," said Ron in awe.
With her head still bent, Hermione felt as though her eyes had been opened for the first time. She could help people-she had helped Harry! She wouldn't allow Persephone to make her think she was worthless when she had had a part in literally changing the world.
Her determination renewed, she glanced down at her hand, and an idea flashed through her brain. MEMORY. She bit her lip, cursing herself inwardly for not having thought of it before and banking on Persephone's pride to be at her own advantage. "Persephone, you've seem to have forgotten one thing," she said, abruptly standing and waiting for the opportune moment to make her move. "Rather ironic, isn't it?" The Auror seemed too surprised at Hermione's bold move to curse her. Her wand was raised but she was distracted by Hermione's sudden confidence. "Yeah, and what's that?" she sneered disbelievingly.
"I can do wandless magic," she replied lightly as though she had just pointed out a break in the weather. Persephone's eyes widened in sudden realization as Hermione directed her palm outward and shouted, "POTENTIA ERADICO!" She had never wandlessly cast a spell of this magnitude alone before and she prayed that it would work.
The white spell whizzed across the kitchen, hitting Persephone square in the face. The young woman clutched her head with both hands, dropping the two wands on the floor and screaming in agony. Hermione saw her crumple into a heap on the floor before a blinding pain seized her forehead and she felt herself losing consciousness. Her last memory was of the floor rushing up to meet her and someone calling her name.
A/N: Does the fic title make any sense now or is it a bit of stretch? Hehe, and I couldn't resist writing a very unexciting version of the final battle…my apologies!