AN: Realized I'd forgotten a disclaimer. The characters in this and the previous chapters are not mine. Neither infringement nor profit is among my objectives.
Resistance
Chapter Fourteen: Changes
"You've done it then? They're all right?" Fred asked her, as she clambered through the flames out into the War Room. Hermione brushed soot off of her cloak in an almost demure fashion, and nodded, looking grateful but subdued.
"They're fine. Exactly who they said they are. That's everybody in both of the other safehouses." Hermione had been holed up in the War Room for several afternoons, with Fred and McGonagall, and sometimes with an assist from Mr. Weasley or Luna. In an amazingly short span of time, she had come up with a rather brilliant charm that could detect artificially accelerated cell growth - and in turn, cloning - thankfully discerning that there was only one clone present in any of the three safehouses. She had felt almost apologetic performing the charm on Aberforth and Madam Pomfrey, who had brushed off her discomfort, much as Remus had when she had queried him regarding his Patronus. She had only just completed performing the charm on the occupants of the York safehouse, and had returned home.
"Thank Merlin," Fred uttered, from his position hunched over a table arrayed with Potions equipment. As Hermione shed her cloak, she moved beside him, slipping into this new task with the ease of practice.
Six days of the one week that Hermione requested had slowly slipped by. She, Harry, and Ron flooed to the northern safehouse every day to try the mental exercises necessary in the attempt to bring Ginny back. Each afternoon, they returned, exhausted and dejected. Tonks and Fred had occupied themselves with skulking about Cornwall, monitoring the Death Eater activity, which had increased quite a bit in the intervening time.
"He knows - or at least suspects - that we're here," Remus said guardedly over dinner one night. "He just doesn't know where. One sighting of one of us, and he could obliterate the entire region."
"But he won't," Hermione replied confidently. "If he does that, he'll never have any proof that he's beaten Harry. He's got to have - have a - "
"A body," Harry finished for her laconically. The group gathered around the enlarged table in the War Room fell into an uneasy silence.
With the rest of her time, Hermione was working feverishly in the War Room, first on the Clone Detection Charm, and then on dissecting the components of the potion sent to Neville. She and Fred had managed to isolate the Memory Modification component, as well as the Impression Elixir - a nastily strong version - that was generally a milder sort of liquid equivalent of the Imperius Curse.
It was another such evening in what was becoming a ceaseless series of evenings, as she and Fred bent diligently to their task yet again. Hermione knuckled one eye tiredly, as she waved her wand over the tiny vial, concentrating to extract ingredients from the finished product. Judging from the amount of potion left, there had to be at least three other ingredients, maybe more if there were trace components. She sighed, and tried to modify her expression as Fred saw her.
"How many people did you just administer that charm to? A dozen? You're not going to be of much use if you're so tired that you're walking into furniture," he said lightly.
"I'm fine," she said blearily. "It's pushing Harry into your brother's mind every day that's truly tiring."
"I can imagine," he snorted, with raised eyebrows.
"Can we even do this?" she asked, waving her hand over the array of potions equipment, including the two vials of precious liquid they had managed to isolate and remove from Neville's potion. "This has got to be a complicated potion, probably made by a Master - maybe Snape himself. It's just like the portkey tracer, and I never figured out how they did that either." She scrubbed both hands over the face, and looking despairingly at Fred. "Voldemort's out-maneuvered us at every turn. How can we - ?"
"Not every turn," Fred reminded her. "There's a certain someone in this house that we wouldn't have, if not for you. I don't think Voldemort quite reckoned on you." Hermione flushed a little, and dropped her eyes.
"Some super-genius I turned out to be," she muttered.
"So, the portkey?" Fred changed the subject. "Did you isolate it down to its components?"
"Yes," Hermione sighed. "That part wasn't hard, especially since I was the one who made it. But none of those spells should be traceable over great distances. I - I just don't know how they managed it."
"What if it wasn't the portkey?" Fred asked, making an upward pulling motion with his wand, as if reeling in a fish. "What if it was something on you - or Harry? Ah-ha! Here we go, Hermione," he cried gaily. "We've got something else. It looks like some variant of a Confunding Serum. Bit chaotic though. Poor Neville -no wonder he hears voices shrieking instructions in his head."
Hermione bit back the obvious reply that the person being restrained upstairs was not Neville.
"If Voldemort was tracing something on me or Harry," she said, returning to Fred's earlier comment, "then, why wouldn't he have found us by now? Why couldn't he trace us all the way here?"
"You're the Most Brilliant Witch of your Age," Fred shrugged. "I'm just postulating. Quick! Get me a vial; I've got it." He had the Confusion Serum hovering neatly above the potion in a purple globule. Hermione Summoned what was essentially a test tube, and Fred dropped it in, where it slithered down the sides to pool in the bottom of the glass container.
"Maybe it's something we no longer have - but I didn't leave anything at the quidditch pitch," Hermione theorized, rambling as she thought out loud. "I don't understand what they could have possibly been tracking if …" She trailed off suddenly, and there was unmitigated horror in her eyes. Fred looked at her in alarm.
"What are you thinking, Hermione?" he asked, evidently straining to keep his voice calm.
"Where's Harry?" she said hoarsely, speaking in a dazed way, as her eyes drifted toward the War Room door.
"I guess he's upstairs. There was nobody down here when I got back. What's going on?"
Hermione didn't answer him, but fled from the room as if a band of Death Eaters were after her. Her feet pummeled up the stairs in rhythm with her rapidly racing heart, and she nearly fell over Ron coming out of the infirmary. Her other best friend caught her before she hit the ground, and she pushed away from him, almost immediately upon being upright again, intent on careening toward Harry's room.
But Ron's hands closed more firmly around her upper arms.
"Hermione, what's wrong?" His face was pale, and his eyes seemed too large for the rest of his face.
"Where's Harry - I've got to - " she panted, trying again to disentangle herself from him.
"He's not here. McGonagall just said so. He and Remus went through the Floo a while ago to the northern safehouse. Wanted to talk with Aberforth about something, I reckon." This did not decrease Hermione's agitation, but rather ratcheted it up.
"We've got to get him - we've got to - " Ron put his long nose only centimeters away from hers.
"What's. Going. On?" He enunciated carefully.
"There's no time to explain, Ron. He's been tracking him. His magic. The quidditch pitch was just isolated enough for - there were only remnants - it's been dormant all this time. He sensed it in me at the rally, and nobody realized. And now we've been activating it - drawing him right to us…right to us…"
Ron was peering into her face, obviously trying desperately to understand the frantic racing of her mind and her disjointed speech.
"Drawing who? Voldemort?" Hermione nodded, looking beseechingly into his face. Ron hesitated only an instant more, before tearing down the stairs, Hermione dashing behind him. He was calling as he went,
"Open the Floo, Fred! Open the Floo to the border house." Fred had evidently done so, as soon as he'd heard Ron's voice, for the flames were swirling green in the grate, when they careened through the War Room doorway.
"You'd better tell Tonks that we may have to leave soon," Hermione told Fred hastily, before following Ron into the flames.
~~**~~
Ron tumbled out of the fireplace, with Hermione following so closely behind that she nearly knocked them both down, and they startled the two witches seated in their War Room, hunched over a roll of parchment.
"Where's Harry?" Hermione demanded, impervious to their wide-eyed, bewildered looks.
"I think he's up on the terrace…with Aberforth and Remus…" one of the women offered up hesitantly. Ron and Hermione had gotten familiar enough with the other safehouse in their travels back and forth that they immediately took note of the woman's use of the word "up" rather than "on". Harry was evidently out on the balcony that made up the roof of the covered, ground-level terrace. They were halfway to the door, when Hermione suddenly turned and asked another urgent question, her eyes blazing with some kind of desperate terror.
"What do people see when they look at this house?" The women exchanged uncertain glances. "People not under the Fidelius…what do they see?" Hermione clarified quickly, speaking with intensity.
"They see an old ruin…foundation, chimney, rubble…" The same woman answered, looking at Hermione, as if she were a curious oddity.
There was no further conversation, as Hermione and Ron hurriedly made their way through the winding hallways of the house and up the stairs. When they finally got to the door in a small parlor leading out onto the balcony, Hermione shoved the portal in question open so hard that she rattled the small panes of glass set therein. The three men were lounging on the corner railing, talking intently, but all of them straightened, as they saw Hermione framed in the doorway, with Ron close behind. Harry's face lit up.
"Hermione, look!" he said, almost like a child on Christmas morning. He either did not notice the somber look on her face, or was ignoring it. She did a double-take when she saw that Harry was holding his wand.
"Wingardium Leviosa," he pronounced, and his voice sounded young again - young and carefree. A laugh very nearly burbled from his lips as the crumpled dead leaf at his feet lurched unevenly a couple of centimeters from the ground, hovered wobblingly for a moment, and then lowered itself down again. "'S taken me all afternoon to get this much, but look!" The smile again. Hermione wanted to cry, could barely restrain herself from lowering her face into her hands and sobbing out loud. "Aberforth thinks your magic was - was well, priming the pump, so to speak… for my magic to - to reactivate itself… Evidently, nothing like this has ever been done before, but - well, nobody's survived Avada Kedavra before either, and I -" He was babbling, and there was brilliant light in his eyes, and Hermione almost couldn't believe that this was her Harry… and she was going to have to take it all away from him.
He looked up at her, about the same time that she opened her mouth to speak, and finally saw the look on her face. His smile wavered and fell off. Remus spoke first.
"Hermione, what's happened?" But Harry was quick on the heels of his words.
"Who's dead? Ginny?" Hermione held her hands up, waving them in front of her hastily to demur what he'd said.
"No, no, nobody's dead." Yet, a doomsday voice inside her head portended. She wavered visibly on her feet, and her eyes drifted down to the wand still clenched in his hand. Hermione, look! "Harry…" she managed in a kind of broken sigh. Then, girding herself up, knowing time was short, she added, "Voldemort's been tracing your magic. It's how the Death Eaters found us on the pitch at the Burrow."
She watched the muscles in his neck and jaw work, as he swallowed convulsively.
"I - I didn't have any magic then. I - he couldn't have - it was gone…" He stammered, dropping his gaze to the little rock at his feet, looking unable to process exactly what she meant.
"There were no wizards close by - you must have had enough traces of magic in your system to be found. It got harder once your magic was totally spent - plus, your signature would have melted into dozens of others in Diagon Alley. Not to mention, he was sensing you in London, through me, then in Cornwall - you were flashing all over the country. He must have thought the dampening field hadn't worked at all."
"But that's - that's good…" Harry offered hesitantly. "Good, if he thinks I'm still - still - " The plaintive phrase how I used to be went unspoken, but was tacitly implied.
"Until you started staying in one place," Hermione finished ominously. She waited, watched the confusion on his face give way to dawning and grave awareness. Here. All their attempts with Ginny, all of the pushing Hermione's magic through him - they had all occurred here, save for the impromptu defense against Lupin.
"I've - I've been - all afternoon, we were - I was - " He couldn't finish, and Hermione thought that her heart might burst from his pain. "Is it - is it really so easy to trace a magical signature?"
"You're linked, Harry," Remus spared her the burden of speaking again. "He can sense you in a way that he'd be unable to sense anyone else." Lupin tapped one finger on his own forehead tellingly, looking somewhat weary, as if he wished that he could spare Harry this.
"Then they're coming, aren't they?" Harry said in a vague voice, his eyes tripping over the horizon, as if expecting hordes of invading hosts to come thundering into view. "I've practically sent them an engraved invitation."
"The Fidelius makes it highly unlikely that…" Remus began quickly. Hermione wondered if he disliked the look of total despair on Harry's face as much as she.
"But it's not definite, is it?" Harry interrupted. "Does anyone know what will happen if Voldemort blazes through here, bent on destruction?" Hermione thought bleakly that Harry knew - so did Remus; they had borne witness to it one Halloween night long ago. The two men glanced at each other, their gazes seething with powerless rage and hopeless despair.
"Their Secret Keeper has not been compromised!" Remus stated firmly, pointing out the most important difference between that night and now.
Before anyone could reply, there came a noise that sent fear straight to the core of every person standing out on that terrace…the cracks of multiple Apparations.
"Sweet Circe!" Aberforth exclaimed under his breath. Harry, in a gesture that nearly terrified Hermione, leaned down on the railing, hunching into the folds of his elbows, his head sinking down to the circle of his arms.
"Harry, get up!" She said fiercely, unable to completely extricate the note of pleading from her voice. "It is not your fault. No one could have foreseen this." She yanked him away from the railing roughly by one elbow, and the group tumbled clumsily and hastily into the house, as the first dark silhouettes became visible against the lurid glow of the setting sun. The problem with being in a rambly old house was that it was difficult to determine where other people were in relation to oneself. She turned to Remus, as the one who seemed to have the most experience with Fidelius charms. "What do we do?"
"We should get the hell out of here - back home," the werewolf said grimly. "They can't get in. Thad hasn't been out of this house, which means the Fidelius is intact. The people here will be - "
A voice broke into their huddle, a voice made all the more menacing and terrible by its Sonorus-ed volume that said simply,
"Accio Brookhaven!" Hermione's eyes flew up to meet Remus's with profound horror.
"That's - "
"Yes," her former professor finished for her. Thaddeus Brookhaven was a young Auror who had been stationed in Bristol, an acquaintance of Tonks, and some kind of distant relation to Professor Sprout, if Hermione was not mistaken. He was also the Secret Keeper for the northern safehouse. There was a shriek, and then a horrible splintering sound, as if Brookhaven had been Summoned right through a wall of the house.
"What are they - " Harry began hesitantly, his words dying on his lips when he saw Hermione's stricken face. As if in answer to his question, a piercing wail of utter agony reached their ears. Ron clapped his hands to the sides of his head, as the cry seemed to go on and on. Someone must have tried to stop them from an upper window, because there was a sudden scuffle of wandfire, and then a short scream and a thump as the would-be defender was driven from the window by that most final of all curses.
A tremor ran through the frame of the house, and Remus's eyes shot to the ceiling, as if he were inspecting it for structural integrity. Something vaguely pink sparked and shimmered outside, catching the periphery of Hermione's vision. Lupin and Aberforth seemed to realize exactly what was going on at the same time.
"The wards're coming down," Aberforth said.
"You've got through the Floo! Now!" Remus hissed back at him. "You don't have much time. If you see anyone else on your way, take them too."
"What about the others? They've got to be warned," Aberforth asked, as he turned the corner, making for the stairs. Somewhere in the house a window shattered, and there was a cry of surprise, quickly cut off.
"I'll do it," Remus insisted. "I have a medallion, and can get back to our safehouse without the Floo network. They're going to have to shut it down. Go now!" Aberforth nodded in understanding, and slunk around the corner out of sight, wand at the ready, keeping to the shadow of the walls.
Remus turned and his steady gaze met those of the Trio head on.
"Take Harry and go," he said, averting his eyes from his friend's son, to look mostly at Hermione. "His safety is of utmost importance."
"I can - " Harry began, almost tentatively raising his wand.
"Wingardium Leviosa is not going to stop Death Eaters," Remus said bluntly, almost wincing as he did so. Hermione saw Harry's pale face flush with the renewed shame of being a catalyst for trouble and a burden. "Get out of here. Tell them to shut down the Floo as quickly as possible."
Somewhere, not too far - perhaps the kitchen - there was a shriek of surprise and a muffled utterance of Avada Kedavra. The Fidelius charm had crumbled, ripped - Hermione supposed - from Thaddeus Brookhaven's no longer functioning mind. She tried to feel grief, but couldn't. The Trio exchanged a long look. Hermione's face was calm, though she reckoned that her eyes were a little more honest. Ron had a mixture of fear and resignation dancing in his gaze, though there was a Gryffindor glint there that made Hermione think that he didn't want to go down without a fight. Harry's face was tight and pinched and white with guilt. I led him here; I drew him here; I'm leaving other people in danger to save my precious hide. These thoughts were as apparent to Hermione as if he'd shouted them at her.
"I'll stay," Ron said quickly, the two words tripping over each other as they left his lips. "Two medallions mean more people can get out." His eyes slid sideways over his two best friends. "Hermione can take care of Harry." The Trio shared a long, meaningful look, seemingly overflowing with memories, apologies, and promises.
"We've got to get out of here," Hermione said quietly, and threaded her arm tightly through Harry's, thinking of Fred's whimsical face with all of her might.
They disappeared.
~~**~~
They met a shaken Aberforth with the two other women from his house in the War Room. Most of the rest of the Order seemed to be clustered around him in a worried knot. Tonks had one hand on a hip and was chewing the knuckle of another. Her eyes were flickering worriedly toward the fireplace, which crackled serenely in variant shades of orange and yellow.
When they appeared next to Fred, Tonks glanced at Harry quickly.
"Was it him?" Her words were clipped and concise. Harry nodded once, a downward jerk of his chin.
The flames swirled green, and Fred, Aberforth, and Tonks all had their wands at the ready, before the person was ejected from the grate. Aberforth sighed with relief, when it was Poppy Pomfrey who came through.
"Where is Remus?" Tonks said in an agonized tone. "Why did he stay? He's the bloody Secret Keeper!" Hermione knew that the status of Remus as the Secret Keeper was not truly the Auror's main concern.
"He stayed because it doesn't matter now," Aberforth told her quietly, laying one gnarled hand on her shoulder with a gentleness that forcibly reminded Hermione of their Headmaster. "The Fidelius doesn't apply to that fireplace link. If they get through the Floo, they're in - Fidelius or no Fidelius. When ours went down, it put the whole network at risk."
"Professor Lupin can get back. Ron - Ron's with him." Hermione offered, seeing Tonks' agony. "They've got their medallions."
"Those other people don't," Aberforth said, still quiet, his eyes shining with remembered horrors. Hermione felt, rather than saw, Harry nearly wilt next to her. When they shut down that Floo, they were effectively condemning everyone in that house to death. She threaded her fingers through his, watching Tonks' eyes slide shut in pain.
"I know," the Auror said softly. "We're the last of the Order, Aberforth. Harry's safety is paramount. You know what Albus would've wanted. We've no choice." The resigned look on Aberforth's weathered face told Hermione that he'd known all this already. She felt Harry make a restless movement beside her, as if he'd protest Tonks' decision, but he said nothing. The mantle of guilt on his shoulders filled the room with an oppressive and nearly tangible pall. She looked at the two women, who'd come through the Floo with Aberforth. "You're civilians?" They exchanged worried, frightened glances, and nodded.
"We should send them through the Floo to the safehouse in York," Harry spoke up suddenly, surprising the room with the authority that had crept into his voice. "Then, shut it down." Harry seemed to so rarely take up a position of leadership that it rather startled everyone in the room, despite the seriousness of the situation. Hermione vaguely wondered if Ron was okay.
At Tonks' nod of agreement, Fred began to fiddle with something on the fireplace mantle, then threw a handful of powder into the flames, shouting,
"York." He gestured toward the two women with a serious face. "Go on then. After you get through, tell them to disconnect it," he said. With one backwards look of uncertainty, they plunged into the green flames and disappeared. The color in the fire swirled and faded, as the flames turned back to their original brilliant color. Everyone in the room seemed to breathe, as if they'd simultaneously remembered that they hadn't in a while.
The embers in the grate made a chuffing noise, and the flames glowed emerald again. The hands of the Order went for their wands, as if belonging to one single-minded creature.
"Shut it down. Now!" Harry bit out, as if physically forcing the words from his throat.
"But what if - " Hermione blurted, almost involuntarily, but stopped, as Harry fixed her with a gaze that was almost equal parts blazing fury and wretched despair.
Fred waved his wand at a blue and white china vase sitting perkily atop the mantle, holding an innocuous bouquet of yellow silk flowers. It slid from one side of the mantle to the other, and the flames died with a rapidity that was unnerving. Almost immediately, they were left staring at a still smoking grate, and a pile of embers slowly turning from orange to gray.
"Make sure they won't be able to trace the Floo conduit," Harry said quietly, and turned on his heel to leave the room. Fred turned to the fireplace, and began muttering a rather complicated incantation. Hermione heard the back door creak slightly, and followed him out, hearing Tonks say,
"We're going to have to pack up and get out of here. If Remus - " she could not finish the sentence.
~~**~~
"Harry," was the only word that Hermione uttered, as she sat down on the back steps next to him, and laid her head on his shoulder. She looked up at the blurry, too-close profile of his beloved face, which was set like flint, his gaze going out over the open water.
"Those people - they - " he said haltingly.
"They're wizards too, you know," she offered up hopefully. "Very capable. And I know there were some escape methods built in, like our trapdoor in the cellar. It could be okay."
"What are we going to do now?" he asked, and she hesitated, unsure whether or not the question was rhetorical, until he tore his stare from the horizon and looked at her expectantly.
"We'll find a new place. We may have to - " Harry shook his head.
"I can't go with you." She lifted her head off his shoulder to look at him in bewildered hurt.
"Harry, don't be ridiculous. You have - "
"If he's tracking my magic, Hermione, what will he be able to do once it's come back? It's already coming back. He'll have a homing device right to me, right to whomever I'm with. I can't stay with the Order."
"Harry, you - " she stopped suddenly, as she realized the truth in his words. "Oh God…"
"I'd go on now… without fussing everyone, but I don't - " He smiled then, and his smile was bitter and ironic. "I don't think I can Apparate myself anywhere yet."
"I'm going with you," Hermione said, with a quiet determination.
"The hell you are," Harry shot back, instantly rejecting any notion that would put her in danger. She glared at him.
"And when the Death Eaters find you again? What are you going to do? Levitate them to death?" Harry flinched a little, but Hermione did not modify her expression. "Look, there may be something we can work out … a twist on a Confunding or Masking charm. Maybe I can figure out a way to hide your magical signature from Voldemort. It'll just take time. But you have to let me come with you."
"Hermione, I - " he began in a feeble protest, when the back door swung open to reveal Nymphadora Tonks.
"We could use your wand in here, Hermione," the Auror said shortly, her words stern, but her eyes soft, flitting over the two of them on the steps.
They followed Tonks back into the house, which was bustling with activity, as things were dismantled, shrunken, and sent soaring across rooms into various trunks or knapsacks. Fred was sending all their potions paraphernalia into a specially cushioned box with a hinged lid, which he then sealed shut with a flourish of his wand.
"Where are we going to go?" Aberforth asked Tonks seriously, his eyes seeming to flicker over to Harry involuntarily. Tonks shrugged, looking worried and uncertain.
"I don't know. There's not time to ward anything properly, but we'd probably have to move again anyway, if…"
"My family has a place near Dover," Madam Pomfrey said. "I haven't been out there since my mother died, but it's somewhere we could go quickly, catch our breath, suss out what to do next…"
"I think that could work," Hermione spoke up, and Tonks seemed to agree. Madam Pomfrey grabbed a quill, and began to scratch the coordinates onto a scrap piece of parchment. "We should - " she began, but promptly forgot what she was going to say, when Remus and Ron suddenly appeared back in the War Room.
"Oh, Remus, thank Merlin," Tonks exclaimed. "What - is everyone - ?"
"We got most of them safely to York," Remus said, looking especially haggard. Ron was cradling his left wrist in his right hand. "The ones that weren't already - " he stopped abruptly. "We made it to the cellar, and got out. We think the Death Eaters were about to burn the place to the ground… once they found out the Floo had been disabled. Good work, by the way," he said this to Fred, who, somber-faced, tipped a brim of an imaginary cap at him in response.
"McGonagall and Penelope have nearly got the infirmary squared away," Tonks said. "Poppy's taking us to her family's home in Dover. We should probably go ahead and go."
Hermione picked up a random pack from where they were leaning against the wall of the War Room. She felt tense and edgy… even now, Voldemort was searching, reaching out with all his power, looking for Harry, sifting through all the magical signatures, slowly homing in on the one that was most familiar to him. Had Neville betrayed the identities of all of the Secret Keepers? Her ears pricked, as if any moment she would hear a terrible command,
"Accio Lupin."
She could not relax, even after she had committed Madam Pomfrey's coordinates to memory, and Side-Alonged Harry to Dover.
~~**~~
"There, now," Poppy Pomfrey exclaimed, as she pulled several dust-covers off of large pieces of furniture, sending up a cloud of dust that made Ron and Harry cough. Remus, Tonks, and Aberforth were putting up some hasty wards, but having heard Hermione's explanation for the attack on the safehouse, everyone knew that they could not stay long.
In the initial commotion, Ron sidled up to Hermione, having secreted Neville safely in a sealed, soundproofed closet. Luna was leaning up against the closet door, almost lazily, her fingers loosely curled around her wand.
"I'm going with you," Ron said, in a near whisper.
"Going where? What are you talking about?" Hermione said, almost irritably.
"Come off it, Hermione. I've known you for how long now? You and Harry are planning on leaving, I can tell."
"Ron, we have to," she said, deciding to dispense with pretense. "They're just going to follow Harry everywhere. Nowhere is safe… unless I can come up with something."
"I know you have to. And you're not leaving me behind. I can help."
"Harry's trying to put as few people in danger as possible," she protested.
"I'm not just people," Ron said. "I'm his best mate - and yours - or at least, I thought I was."
"Of course you are, Ron. But what about Ginny and Fred and your dad? Are you just going to leave them?"
"Leave who where?" Remus said suddenly, having evidently returned from erecting wards. His voice was too disarming, and Hermione wondered how much of the conversation he'd heard.
Harry had noticed the interplay, and set down the trunk that he had just picked up.
"I have to go, Remus," he said simply. "If Voldemort is tracing my magic, and my magic is starting to come back, then I can't stay here. I'll only put everyone I'm around in danger."
Lupin's face creased, but he did not argue with Harry. It was almost, Hermione observed, as if the werewolf had been expecting something of the sort.
"Now, Harry…" Mr. Weasley began, almost comically hesitant and stammering slightly, "I know that this last hour or so has been … somewhat disconcerting, but … there's no need to go off half-cocked, and …" He floundered to a stop, but then said, "You know the Order will always back you."
"I know, sir," Harry said sincerely. "It won't be permanent. It'll only be until - until - "
"Until when, Harry?" Tonks asked, trying to sound pleasant, even though she clearly looked ambivalent about Harry's plan of action.
"Until Hermione comes up with a charm that masks my magic enough for me to keep training and build my strength back," he said matter-of-factly. "Then we can find you lot again, and storm Hogwarts, get rid of the Primes, and defeat Voldemort for good."
"How do you even know where the Primes are?" Tonks asked, sounding stubborn and challenging.
"Where else would they be?" Harry replied. "It's the best place in Britain if you want to hide something. It's obvious why Voldemort hit the Ministry and Diagon Alley. He needed those places strategically, to cement his victory. Why would he have attacked Hogsmeade? Because he didn't want a center of Wizarding population so near Hogwarts. Why did he want Hogwarts? Professor Dumbledore was dead. I'd graduated. The school year had ended. There was no logical reason for him to take Hogwarts unless he wanted to protect something."
Hermione stood next to Harry, feeling quietly proud. He hadn't been succumbing to self-pity, his magical ability - or lack thereof - notwithstanding. As dubious as the distinction was, Harry seemed to have a keen insight into the mind of the wizard currently ruling England. And perhaps her task was to see that he stayed alive long enough to put that knowledge to good use.
"We've done this before," Ron blurted suddenly. "We were on our own last summer hunting horcruxes, and we did just fine. Got rid of all of them. We even know some good places to hide."
All eyes in the room snapped suddenly to Ron, and he flushed under the scrutiny, ducking his head. His father stared at him, almost wonderingly, and then approached him, reaching out to cup his hands around the junction of Ron's neck and shoulders. He looked into his youngest son's eyes for a long moment, and then said,
"You'll do your mother proud, son." It was not a question or the solicitation of a promise; it was an assertion, and Hermione thought she saw Ron's eyes take on a sheen in the dim light of the dusty room.
"I don't - I don't think," Harry began, clearing his throat awkwardly, as though loath to interrupt such a moment, "I don't think that you should know where we are, or that we should know where you are. We have the medallions, and those should get us to each other, if it becomes necessary."
The members of the Order stood around in the shrouded room, some furniture still gloomily swathed in heavy fabric. Dust motes swirled in the light streaming from the one window that had had the draperies pulled aside. The only sound was bustling movement from Penelope, as she and Professor McGonagall worked to make Ginny as comfortable as possible.
Hermione watched as Harry's eyes drifted slowly, almost unwillingly, to the small divan where the girl he had once loved - thought he loved? - lay prone. Uncertainty flickered in his eyes before they grew determined, and she wondered what sort of decision he had just reached.
As if reading her mind, he looked suddenly at her, reaching one hand out for hers.
"We're going to do it. Now. Before we leave," he said, as she took his hand, looking at him without comprehension.
"Do what, Harry?"
"Bring Ginny out of it. Before we go." He looked around at the other Order members with apology in his eyes. "You won't be able to stay here. I'm sure a magical output of that magnitude will bring Voldemort at top speed."
"Harry, we haven't even - we still don't know if it will work," Hermione protested.
"It's got to work. You asked for a week, and it's been six days. What other choice is there?" She pondered the hard, determined look in his eyes, and acquiesced with a quiet,
"Alright." She cast a brief glance at both Ron and Mr. Weasley, who seemed to have come to terms with the fact that this tenuous plan was Ginny's only hope. As she and Harry moved to the side of the divan where Ginny lay, she saw Mr. Weasley put one hand on Ron's shoulder, and Fred thread his way from the far side of the room to stand next to the remainder of his family.
"Are you ready?" Harry asked her softly, his thumb softly stroking the backs of her fingers, so lightly that it was barely a touch, but so intently that it sent prickles all the way up her arm. She nodded, and closed her eyes.
She reached out with her magic, pushing it out ahead of her, as if thrusting it away from herself. But she did not relinquish her hold on it entirely, instead following it toward Harry's mind, careful to keep a toehold in her own mind, so as to not lose herself, as she had so nearly done last time.
She felt Harry's presence, felt him take control of her magic, felt him plunge toward Ginny's mind, as they had so often approached Ron's. Again she followed, constituting his support, funneling her magic toward him with as much strength as she could muster, while simultaneously trying to call up memories of home, of her parents, of her grandmother, anything to keep her identity from slipping away from her.
She sucked in a deep breath, as entry into Ginny's mind shocked her. It was not like Ron's mind, warm and alive and - if her presence was detected - usually embarrassed. It was cold and limp, unmoving… like a - like a corpse, she realized suddenly. She hoped it was not too late.
She could still feel the ambient warmth of Harry's presence, glowing deliciously like firelight, and reached for him, feeling her power thrumming through her like electric current.
"Ginny?" Harry's voice echoed thinly, as if Hermione were hearing him over a great distance. "Ginny? Are you there? It's Harry."
There was a rushing sound, as if something were approaching from very far away, and Hermione felt as if the ground shifted under her feet - which was ridiculous because there technically was no ground under her feet right now anyway.
The same picture-windows that she had seen in Ron's mind began to pop up in the grayish misty swirling of Ginny's mind. Hermione felt hope spring up within her; Ginny's mind was responding to their presence. Maybe they weren't too late after all.
And then her perspective shifted wildly, as if the entire world were tilting around her, as if she were falling. A soundless scream tore from her throat, even though she knew she was not falling anywhere. My mother's name is Helen Granger. My father's name is…
The end of the sentence died unborn in her mind, as the vistas of Ginny's mind were replaced with one she knew all too well, even though she had never seen it herself. But Ginny had. Harry had.
The Chamber of Secrets.
Hermione felt cold tendrils prickle down the back of her neck and spine, when she saw a handsome young man, in black Hogwarts school robes, standing at the far end of the chamber, near the statue of Salazar Slytherin. She was being pulled forward now, powerless to stop it, and knew that Ginny's nightmare was in motion. There was nothing either she or Harry could do to stop it from replaying itself.
Bodies were everywhere, and Hermione felt her gorge rise, even knowing that this depiction of events in the Chamber had not actually happened. Ginny was standing - Ginny as Hermione had last seen her, at nearly seventeen, not Ginny at eleven - opposite Tom, looking frazzled and dirty and wet, her hunched posture one of cowed submission. Hermione tried not to look at the crumpled forms of various Weasleys - even in the nightmare, the red hair stood out in brilliant contrast to the gray stone.
My mother's name is Helen Granger.
Tom Riddle reached one clawed hand toward Ginny, and even though no contact was made, Ginny flinched and screamed shrilly, as if hit by a Cruciatus curse.
"Mum? Daddy? Bill? Make it stop, somebody make it stop," Ginny keened, as she sank to her knees, folding up over her legs like a discarded doll. Hermione saw her fingers, digging into the skin of her forehead, clenched over her eyes - her eyes that had left off the ability to see, in an desperate attempt to stop the horror.
"Ginny?" came a familiar voice that was not Harry's. Hermione turned toward the source of the sound in wonder. It was one of the twins.
"George?" Ginny asked hopefully. He was less than halfway down the length of the chamber, when Tom Riddle stretched out his hand again, closing it into a fist, and rotating his wrist sharply. George stopped suddenly, as if physically restrained, and made a gurgling sound. A thin line of blood appeared around his neck, as he was garroted by an unseen hand. Ginny made a movement, as if she would run toward him, but she was prevented from moving by an invisible barrier.
George reached one hand for her, and tried to say her name. His lips moved, but only blood frothed from his lips. Ginny wailed helplessly, and Tom Riddle laughed. Hermione was starting to feel panicky. Where was Harry? Where was she channeling her magic?
My mother's name is Helen Granger.
"Leave her alone, Tom," came a voice that she knew all too well. A tremendous surge of joy welled up in her heart, and she turned to see Harry striding down the wide aisle to the top of the chamber. He seemed taller than she remembered, and broader through the shoulders. A cloak was fastened at his neck with the Gryffindor crest, and whipped behind him in an unseen, unfelt breeze that also ruffled his tousled dark hair. Hermione was bewildered at the changes, until she realized that she was seeing him as Ginny had seen him at age eleven, as a conquering hero, as her noble rescuer, as her unrequited love. She felt a paradoxical pang of sympathy for the girl, trying to imagine how she would feel if Harry did not love her back.
"Harry!" Ginny gasped, in a kind of half-hiccup, half-sob. Hermione wondered whether or not it was completely ridiculous to be jealous of someone else's nightmare. She felt her control slipping.
My mother's name is Helen Granger. My birthday is September 19th.
Tom Riddle's features seemed to twist and sharpen, slowly morphing into the more familiar, less human visage of Lord Voldemort. Ginny, by contrast, looked calmer, more confident, and Hermione couldn't fault her. After all, hadn't Harry fought and won this battle already?
My mother's name…she groped for it frantically for a moment, momentary panic swelling in her breast. My mother…
"Hermione?" She jerked her chin up in surprise. Harry was looking over his shoulder at her. "Go. I've got it. I can do it."
Are you sure? Her lips moved, but no sound came out. Even so, Harry must have heard her, for she felt his reply throb through her consciousness, though he did not speak.
I'm sure. I love you.
She let go, and felt herself hurtling backwards. The chamber faded into a gray mist, and her mind was streaming back into her body like a rubber band that has been pulled taut and released.
She opened her eyes.
Harry's fingers were limp in her hand. His head was still bent, his eyes closed. His other hand was clasping Ginny's, and she moved restlessly on the divan.
"Hermione?" Ron hissed, nudging her lightly in the side. "Are you okay?" She nodded, without looking at him, her eyes fixed on Harry.
"He said he had it. I think he's going to do it." Ginny's face grew pale, and her lips twitched, as she mumbled something inarticulate. Harry disentangled his hand from Hermione's, and renewed his hold on Ginny's hand with both of his.
Nobody from the Order moved - Hermione wasn't sure that any of them were even breathing. It seemed like half a lifetime had passed, but she could tell from the way the light streamed in the one open window that only a few minutes had gone by since they had first arrived there.
Ginny cried out, and tried to wrest her hand from Harry's, but he held fast. His face had grown tense with concentration, and Hermione saw a fine sheen of sweat break out on his forehead. She desperately wanted to retrieve his hand, but didn't know what sort of effect it would have on the entire procedure. An involuntary, indistinguishable cry escaped his slightly parted lips. His body went rigid.
His eyes flew open, and he gasped out an, "Oh my God," as he drew in a shaky breath. Almost simultaneously, Ginny sat up on the divan, crying out,
"Mum? Dad?"
"Ginny?" Mr. Weasley voiced tentatively, after Harry had nodded at him to respond.
"Daddy?" she asked, reaching one hand for him, in the direction from which he had spoken. "Was I hurt at Hogwarts? What's wrong with my eyes? Where's Mum?" Penelope and Madam Pomfrey hovered discreetly nearby, running scans with their wands, while Hermione and Ron exchanged misty looks. Harry wavered on his feet and nearly fell, caught just in time by his two best friends, who helped him to a recently uncovered chair.
"Is she - is she all right?" Harry asked, breathily, bending over his knees, as one who is trying to ward off nausea.
Hermione's gaze flickered over to Ginny, who was saying softly, in an almost broken voice,
"I - I remember. I - she pushed me out of the way, and - something hit us both." She blinked rapidly as tears welled up, and crumpled up into her father's embrace. "Merlin, is it all over? We lost?" Hermione looked down at Harry, only to see that he was watching Ginny as well.
"We should go," he said suddenly, rising quickly to his feet. Hermione did not fail to notice the way he swayed slightly, his hand going subtly down to the arm of the chair to steady himself.
"Harry, maybe you should take a minute," Ron said, shooting a look of alarm at Hermione. Harry's face had gone positively gray.
"We don't know how much time we have, Ron. All I know is that nobody should be here when Voldemort comes to call," Harry tried to snap at his best mate, but couldn't achieve the energy required to pull it off. Hermione's brow knit with concern, and she reached out to stroke Harry's upper arm softly.
"Harry, sit down. It will take Voldemort a few hours to trace us. We've got a little bit of time. In fact, why don't you take a kip, while Ron and I figure out where exactly we're going to go?" Harry looked as if he'd like to argue with her, but couldn't muster up the wherewithal to do so. When he reached up to brush the sweat-dampened hair back from his forehead, his hand was trembling.
Hermione tried not to let her alarm show. This had obviously taken more out of him than he wished to reveal. Had they come this far only to trigger a relapse back to the weak, battered Harry that had just escaped Voldemort's clutches?
Watching long enough to ascertain that Harry's lids had begun to droop, even as he fought to keep them open, Hermione returned to the group of people clustered around Ginny.
"How is she?" she whispered to McGonagall, as Penelope gave Ginny instructions regarding a very light sleeping draught being administered.
"It's not like sedation," the young mediwitch said. "It'll be a natural sleep. Just for a few hours."
"No nightmares?" Ginny asked, a little fearfully. Hermione couldn't really blame her.
"No nightmares," Penelope said soothingly, and Ginny seemed to relax. Her father had pulled up a chair, and was holding her small hand in between his two bigger ones.
"Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?" Ginny asked Mr. Weasley in a little-girl voice that was nearly slurred with fatigue. Hermione felt a lump grow in her throat, as she looked from Ginny to Harry, now sleeping propped in a chair. Ron was maneuvering a small end table over to Harry's feet, lifting his legs up onto its dusty surface.
"Miss Clearwater doesn't know if the blindness can be fixed at this point," Professor McGonagall replied to Hermione, sotto voce. "She should be physically fine, otherwise. Whether or not she can handle the emotional and mental stress of her reality, as well as the memories of her nightmares, remains to be seen."
~~**~~
Hermione knew the instant Harry awakened, because he careened out of his chair, seemingly all arms and legs, his face frantic, though still somewhat blurred with sleep.
"What time is it?" he said, with much more panic than such a question would normally warrant. His eyes went to the window, where the low light slanting through was probably doing nothing to allay his fears.
"It's almost seven," Hermione said calmly, and Harry's gaze jerked abruptly over to meet hers. "We're ready to go when you are."
"And the Order? Where are they going?" Hermione pressed her lips together tightly, blinking back errant tears.
"We've decided that you were right - it's best that we not know," she said simply. Clearly, logically, it was a wise decision. But, Merlin, it hurts, she thought to herself.
"We're cutting ourselves off from the other safehouses," Remus spoke up then, moving from where he'd been standing in one of the more shadowy corners of the room. "We're what's left of the Order; we're your back-up, Harry. That's just too dangerous for civilians at this point. The medallions have been charmed for communication, and all you have to do is contact us; we'll be there instantly."
"In the meantime," Tonks put in, almost hesitantly. "We'll be looking for ways to infiltrate Hogwarts. There can be no action against Voldemort until that army has been destroyed."
"We'll be back," Harry said seriously, trying to infuse his voice with confidence. "As soon as Hermione's gotten a charm that will camouflage my magic, so that I can use it safely, we'll be back to help." He looked sideways at Hermione with a fond little smile. "Knowing her, I don't think it will take long." She flushed a bit, and looked down at her shoes.
Ron was sitting on the edge of the divan with Ginny, talking with Fred and his father. The four red heads were clustered close together, looking brilliant in the shrouded room, and reminding Hermione uncomfortably of the rendering of Ginny's nightmare. He leaned over and kissed Ginny gently on the forehead, and Mr. Weasley and Fred eached clapped him on a shoulder, in a very man-to-man way, masking any emotion.
Hermione moved to hug Tonks, McGonagall, Luna, Penelope, and Madam Pomfrey in turn. The circuit around the room deposited her near Ginny's head, and she found herself engulfed in an enthusiastic embrace by Fred Weasley. Over his shoulder, she could see Remus hugging Harry tightly, the tension in their arms and shoulders betraying how they felt about leaving each other. Hermione knew that Remus Lupin was the closest thing to a father that Harry had left, having stepped into the place left vacant by James Potter and Sirius Black.
At length, Harry had drifted over to the Weasleys, and Hermione tried to move away to where Ron was speaking quietly with Luna, unable to keep one eye from monitoring the proceedings by the divan.
"Ginny," Harry said, his voice low and uncertain.
"Harry!" She reached out her hand, and he clasped it. Unlike his, her voice sounded glad. "I wanted to… to thank you for what you did."
"You're my friend, Ginny - and a good one. You would have done the same for me," Harry replied, watching her with compassion and a little regret. His use of the word `friend' had not been lost on Ginny, any more than it had on Hermione, as the latter saw a flash of hurt glint in Ginny's unseeing eyes.
"And you're - you're with Hermione now?" The words were phrased carefully, enunciated to prevent the slightest bit of emotional outburst. Her chin wobbled only a little.
"Yes," Harry remarked quietly. "Did Ron tell you?"
"Not in so many words," Ginny replied. "But I could hear it in your voice. The way you said her name - it was softer… almost reverent." Her lips twisted upward in a mirthless smile. "They say that you compensate with your other senses, when one sense is lost. I'm doing well, aren't I?"
"Ginny - " he began, but stopped almost as quickly, seemingly at a total loss. "I never wanted to hurt you." Hermione saw him flinch at the inanity of the words.
"I'm not going to lie and say it doesn't hurt, Harry," Ginny told him, looking in his direction with wet eyes. "But we've got bigger things to be hurting over right now, don't we? And you've more important things to accomplish." She reached up and brushed a few recalcitrant strands of hair from his forehead, looking for all the world like she could see him clearly. "Come back after you've defeated Voldemort, and I'll kick you in the nads like you deserve." Her face was impish, even while her eyes were shiny with tears. An involuntary laugh escaped Harry's lips, and Hermione felt a twinge of envy over the easy way that she had always been able to make him laugh.
"If I make it out of all this, I'll let you," he promised in a light-hearted tone, and leaned in to kiss her temple. "Take care of yourself, Ginny."
"Don't worry about me, Harry. Be safe," Ginny replied, biting her lips together in an effort to keep her tears from gaining control. Harry turned toward Hermione and Ron, and Hermione tried to act like she hadn't been eavesdropping on his conversation with Ginny.
"Are you ready?" he asked. In answer, Hermione went over to a wall where three packs were propped, picked them up, handed one each to Harry and Ron, and shouldered the third. "Where are we going?" He looked surprised, when Hermione slanted a slightly nervous look over to Ron.
"It's all over magical residue," she said. "And not too far from two other villages that are in the same state. We're hoping that the - the fallout will make it harder for Voldemort to find us. If you don't use your magic at all, your low levels of output should be hidden by the interference… hopefully, long enough for us to come up with something more permanent - and portable - to cover your magic." Harry was looking at her, mystified, obviously curious as to why she seemed so nervous about their choice.
"It's one of the villages Voldemort destroyed, isn't it? Are you sure there won't be a contingent of Death Eaters there?" he asked.
"I don't see why," she answered. "There's nothing left to guard. But I think we can - we can stay where we stayed last time - last summer." She watched awareness flicker over his face, and knew that he was thinking of restless, uneasy nights in a fusty smelling cellar beneath the ruins of a house that had been all but destroyed 17 years ago. He swallowed once and looked at her, as he said grimly,
"Godric's Hollow."
TBC
There we go. I've been pulling my hair out with this chapter. Blasted wizards and their blasted Fidelius charms make it very difficult for a safehouse to be attacked. My action scene turned out to be less of one, I thought, because the Order wasn't going to be trapped anywhere, as long as they had their medallions. So, I apologize if it wasn't as exciting as I meant for it to be. Curse my own inventiveness!! :P
Please leave a review on your way out. Hope you enjoyed!
lorien
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