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 Sixteen: Cloak
Another gust of wind buffeted the house and howled around the copious cracks, sometimes whistling like a teakettle and sometimes moaning like a lost soul. Hermione shivered, even though the house was securely shielded against the elements. The stillborn start of fall had capitulated to winter early, and without much of a fight, in this untidy little village on the raw coastline of northern Scotland. The Trio had been here once before, during their hunt for the horcruxes. This was not just any Scottish village, but one where the Gaunt family had lived for a time - where Merope Gaunt had been born - in a manner somewhat more befitting the last of the Slytherin line. But that had not lasted, as they had been driven out under a cloud of invective and suspicion, the Muggle inhabitants of the village unknowingly fueling the fires of hatred that would be stoked in Marvolo Gaunt, transformed into madness in his children, and reawakened in his grandson and namesake… fires that Hermione feared would one day blaze up to consume them all.
The wind shrieked under the eaves, and Harry swore under his breath. He was cross-legged on the dilapidated bed, trying to read Hogwarts: A History, without any part of his body protruding from the blankets. Hermione looked at him with concern.
"Ron just renewed the heating charms," she said, her brow wrinkling as she eyed him carefully.
"I know. I think that," he pointed out the window, indicating the gray, forbidding landscape, lashed with rain that promised to soon be sleet, "makes it seem colder." She stopped stirring the potion that she had simmering over the cauldron, and walked through the open doorway to where he was sitting in the bedroom. She sat on the edge of the bed, and the sad mattress protested a little.
"Are you really okay?" she asked. He was still too thin. She couldn't help fretting over him, fearing in the back of her mind that he would slip away from her, that something beyond her control would just … take him, and she would be powerless to stop it. One of her hands reached up, as though with a mind of its own, and her fingers threaded softly through his disheveled hair. He leaned the side of his face into her caress, and sighed.
"I'm fine, Hermione. I just don't know how much longer we can keep this up." She looked at him quizzically, and he hastened to clarify. "I've got to train. I can't just keep sitting here, doing nothing with what little magic I've managed to regain." He looked at her apologetically, as if he didn't want to say what he was saying. "Are you any closer to a breakthrough?" She understood then. She was holding them up; everything hinged on what she could come up with, and she had come up with exactly nothing. Hurt flashed in her eyes before she could stop it, and he was quickly drawing her down in the pile of blankets with him, laying feather-light kisses in her hair.
"No, Harry, it's okay," she said. "I'm just as frustrated by this delay as you are. I just - any kind of dampening field would mask your magic, perhaps, but would also repress it. Spells would be more difficult and cumbersome to wield, and that certainly isn't going to help you at all. More general masking spells would hide magic in general, but Voldemort isn't tracing you the way Aurors would…he's connected to you. That scar links you, and I can't figure out a way to mislead that link." She shook her head, her fluffy ponytail arcing out behind her, and lowered her face into her hands. Harry's hands were softly playing along her spine.
"I'm sorry," he apologized quietly. "I didn't mean to - I don't want you to - the pressure, I mean - you shouldn't - " He swore under his breath, and Hermione gave a soft snort of laughter through her nose. She leaned into his warm embrace for a kiss, which he sumptuously bestowed on her lips.
Suddenly, she straightened, her eyes drifting toward the window, but not seeing the bleak weather beyond. Harry recognized the look.
"You've thought of something, haven't you?" By way of answer, she leapt up from the side of the bed, and began to pace the length of the small room, her fingers steepled in front of her, staring at nothing.
"A regular Concealment or Masking spell could mask most people's magic, but not yours in this case. Not yours."
"Right," Harry said slowly. "Because of Voldemort."
"Because … of … Voldemort," Hermione echoed, drawing out the words, as she thought furiously. She continued to pace, pausing once at the window to say, "Here comes Ron." There was a flash of brilliant color making its way along the gray crags with difficulty. A moment later, the door blew open, and a generous amount of rain and cold wind entered the small cabin along with their other best friend.
He shook water droplets from his hair, and cursed colorfully, as he closed the door and cast a drying spell on himself.
"My shielding spell got a hole in it, bloody thing," he said, by way of explanation for his wet state. "It's colder than a Yeti's…" He cast a quick glance at Hermione and quickly swallowed the probably crude remainder of what he'd been about to say. "The baker asked about you," he told her, gesturing toward the basket of groceries he'd set on the lopsided wooden table. A loaf of bread protruded from the top. "He offered to bring the food out to the house, but I told him that it made me look good - you know, all manly and heroic - braving the elements for my - my - " he cleared his throat, and colored slightly, "little woman."
This broke Hermione's concentration enough for her to glower at him.
"Ron, you didn't really use the phrase `little woman'?" Ron looked at Harry, still sitting on the bed in the other room, though the smallness of the house enabled him to hear everything with ease. Harry spread his hands wide, in a gesture that said, you're on your own, mate.
"I might've," Ron sniffed defensively. Hermione rolled her eyes and murmured something derogatory under her breath. They were letting the cabin, with Ron and Hermione posing as a young married couple, under the story that they had liked the area so much when backpacking through the year before (with a friend of theirs) that they had decided to return alone for a holiday. Harry had remained quite invisible, stuck inside the cabin, with no one in the village being the wiser about his presence. They had made few excursions into the village, only rarely for supplies or news, and, if Harry had been bothered by their hand-in-hand strolls down the lane to the main part of town, he hadn't shown it. But Hermione felt guilty about it, and for her part, tried to lavish attention on Harry in the privacy of the larger bedroom that Ron had insisted they share. He was sleeping in the other bedroom, one so small that it might have been a closet in another life.
"So, what're you on about anyway?" Ron asked, after a moment. Even while Hermione's eyes had flashed at Ron with annoyance, she had continued to pace, and it was obvious that her mind was not really on the label Ron had given her.
"If…" Hermione started slowly, but picked up steam. "If we're going to mask your specific signature from Voldemort, then - then we'll need something designed especially for you, something built off of your magical signature."
"If you're going to key something to my signature, you're going to have to extract some magic…I'm not sure I can really spare any right now." Harry padded into the living room in his sock feet, walking over to stand by the fire, but giving her his full attention.
"I'm not extracting anything," she told him with a triumphant smile, having finally hit on a solution. "We're going to use part of your signature that has already been extracted." The three of them stared at each other for a moment, before Harry erupted.
"You are not going back there! You don't know who might be there. He could still be there, along with Merlin knows how many Death Eater clones."
"Harry, I've been working on this for weeks with no results. This has got to be it - the only way. The dampening field that Voldemort used on you should hold traces of the magic it withdrew. It should be relatively easy to come up with a suppressant for that exact signature, once we have it. I can't believe I didn't think of it before."
"And if it's not still there? What if he's used it on someone else?" Harry challenged, jutting his chin out belligerently. She sighed. There was no way he was going to let her go without a grand row.
"I think you're probably pretty much the only one he'd care to do that to, Harry. Anyone else would just get an Avada Kedavra between the shoulder blades," Ron said laconically. Harry shook his head.
"It's too dangerous."
"Why would they be guarding that room anymore, if you're not in it?" Ron pointed out, but earning the full power of Harry's glare for mentioning a point in Hermione's favor.
"You don't think Riddle House isn't going to be warded to the rooftop, whether Voldemort is there or not? You're not going!" Hermione felt the color rush to her cheeks, as her eyes snapped with anger.
"How are you going to stop me, Harry?" she asked, in an almost poisonously sweet voice, though she almost immediately regretted it. Harry flinched as though he'd been slapped, and Hermione was flooded with recrimination. Ron had vanished through the door to his bedroom, and Hermione was vaguely aware of a series of thumps and rustles drifting from there.
"I am aware every single second of every day of my … limitations. You certainly don't have to remind me, Hermione," Harry rasped, almost as if he was in physical pain. He had one hand up on the fireplace's rough-hewn mantelpiece, and that alone seemed to be keeping him from falling down.
"I shouldn't have said that," Hermione admitted quietly. "And I didn't mean it like that. But I really think this could work. And if it helps you in your quest to fight Voldemort eventually, then it's worth the risk. I can take care of myself, Harry. I'll be careful."
"She's not going alone," Ron said suddenly, re-entering the room with a folded piece of parchment in his hand. He was looking at Harry, rather than Hermione, and an unspoken communication seemed to pass between them. Hermione immediately protested.
"You should stay here with Harry."
" Or let me go too," Harry suggested quickly, but the suggestion was unanimously shot down.
"Harry, if we had to worry about defending you in an attack…" Hermione began, but her words drifted into nothingness. You'd be a liability, sweetheart. She was pretty sure that her eyes clearly indicated her agony, just as Harry's stiffened stance and distant gaze indicated that he had understood precisely what she was not saying.
"Right…" he said faintly. His eyes were pools of self-loathing, and Hermione wanted nothing more than to pull him into the bedroom and show him exactly how worthwhile he was to her. She took a step toward him, her hand extended, but he shied away from her touch. She blinked at him, hurt.
"Harry should keep the invisibility cloak," Ron said, after clearing his throat awkwardly.
"No!" was the instant response. "You take it. You'll need it in that house."
"Harry, we can use Disillusionment charms. The cloak is the best and easiest way for you to conceal yourself, should that become necessary. Keep it." She looked rather blankly at Ron. "Where are the ward detectors? We'll need them again."
"Right here," he said in a jovial tone, obviously pleased at having thought ahead of her. He tossed her one of the small objects cupped in his hand, and they each clipped one to the ends of their wands. "And!" he opened the parchment with a flourish, spreading it out on the ramshackle table. "Have a look at this." He tapped the surface lightly with his wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
Harry and Hermione both gasped in astonishment as familiar inky lines began to thread their paths across the crumpled face of the parchment.
"I'd forgotten all about it," Hermione admitted helplessly, remembering the circumstances of that night. Ron had had the map with the team fighting in Hogwarts. And then the curse…Mrs. Weasley, Ginny… and that had been Malfoy the whole time - Hermione still had trouble fathoming that. With all that had happened, it was no wonder the map had been forgotten.
"It ended up in the very bottom of my trunk. I might've mentioned it earlier, but I didn't figure a map of Hogwarts would do us much good now," Ron said. "But if Voldemort's there, we'll be able to see it, and then we'll know where he isn't."
Hogwarts was teeming with small labeled dots, scurrying around the parchment like an anthill that has been stirred with a stick. Chestnut, raven, and ginger heads bent over it studiously, and for a moment, the shrieking wind and battering rain were the only sounds.
"Holy hell," Ron said in disgust, as they sorted out the information that the map presented them. "Death Eaters in the Gryffindor common room. It's indecent."
"Look at these…" Hermione pointed excitedly, her finger bouncing over random areas of the school. "Here... and here… and here…" The boys looked. She was indicating a repeated name, Nathanael Applewood, found several places around the campus. Harry and Ron both drew their eyes up to meet hers, each blank expression saying, So? We knew about the clones already. "But look down here, in Slytherin house." She pointed, and there was another rendition of Nathanael Applewood, but this one was…
"The ink is darker," Harry breathed softly. They bent down over the map with renewed zeal, and found the pattern to be consistent. An uncloned person - or the original from which the copies were made - was indicated by much darker ink, while the clones were labeled in spidery, almost faded script.
"And look here," Ron said somberly, pointing to a lone dot down in the lower dungeons. Neville Longbottom. The ink was heavy and black as jet. There was a moment of silence while they digested this.
"The cloned Neville is probably off of the potion by now. I wonder what the Order is going to do with him?" Hermione mused.
"With the Order gone from the safehouse, the Death Eaters don't know where Neville is, and can't get him the potion or give or receive information from him. They've got to assume that the Order knows he's not the real Neville," Ron said. Harry was shaking his head before Ron even finished speaking.
"They either don't know the Order knows," Harry responded, "or they don't think the clone of Neville is a threat."
"Why's that?" Hermione asked, always pleasantly surprised when Harry's overly modest intelligence made itself known. Harry pointed at the small dot in the Hogwarts' dungeon.
"Because the original Neville is still alive." Hermione met Harry's eyes, and both pairs were sober with realization. Harry was right, Hermione knew. If the Death Eaters perceived the Neville in the Order's possession to be a threat to Voldemort's interests, they would simply kill the actual Neville, and do away with both at once.
"There must be something they're waiting on, some reason they haven't done anything to him yet," Hermione thought out loud, searching for a reason. There's always a pattern.
"One thing's for sure. We really don't have much time left," Harry said, with no doubt in his voice. His gaze drifted disconsolately down to the map again. Hermione slid her hand over atop his, without speaking. He looked at her bleakly for a moment, and she parted her lips to speak, but they were interrupted by an excited bleat from Ron, as his long thin finger stabbed at the parchment.
A dark dot now moved about in the Headmaster's Office, a dot labeled Tom Riddle.
"He must have just come from the Floo," Ron observed.
"The map doesn't recognize him as Voldemort," Harry said softly, eyes glinting in appreciation of the irony.
"We should go then," Hermione blurted rather abruptly. She watched as the light went out of Harry's eyes, and he disengaged his hand from hers. "While he's - while he's there." Ron shouldered a knapsack, and handed Hermione one as well. "You've got your medallion?" she asked him, her hand going automatically to the gold chain around her throat. Ron nodded, and they both turned to Harry.
"Be careful, Harry," she said earnestly, and he shook his head bitterly.
"I'm not in any danger here," he said. She could tell that he was still upset, either about her going, or about her earlier thoughtless remark, she wasn't sure which. As Ron turned toward the front door, readying for Apparation, Harry seemed to waver on his feet. He appeared torn, and she guessed that his pride would have him march stodgily into the bedroom, as a child who's been left out of a game would. But his fear, the lingering worry that flickered in his green eyes, was keeping him in the room with her. He's afraid this might be the last time he sees me, and he doesn't want me to leave with him angry, she thought.
She moved toward him quickly, and laid one light hand on his shoulder, hurriedly brushing his lips with hers. He stood stock-still, as if keeping himself under very tight control, almost shuddering under her touch, but at the last moment, he let himself respond to her kiss.
"We'll be back soon, Harry," she whispered, and he met her eyes mutely, and nodded.
"Be careful." The pleading in his voice made it crack. He seemed almost surprised that he'd spoken. Her eyes crinkled at the corners in a slight smile, and she nodded, pressing her lips together tightly.
"We won't be gone long," she said, repeating her earlier sentiment to reassure both Harry and herself. Her eyes never left his, as she linked her arm through Ron's, and they Apparated away.
~~**~~
They ended up on the edge of the graveyard, close to where Hermione had first arrived on her rescue mission. She moved forward slowly, feeling somewhat heartened when the ward detector on her wand lit up at around the same place that it had last time. It meant that the wards were probably unchanged, and she knew how to get around those. Ron Disillusioned them both, while Hermione swiftly got them inside the wards.
"This place is bloody creepy," Ron said, eying the tombstones uncertainly, as they trod carefully through the graveyard. He hesitated for only a moment in passing the Riddle family monument, and Hermione knew what thoughts were passing through his head - of Harry, and Cedric - for she had had them too.
The Riddle house was dark and lifeless, no hint of light coming from the grimy windows. If Hermione didn't know better, she'd say that the house hadn't been inhabited in decades. Releasing a breath that she hadn't realized she'd been holding, she looked at Ron and inclined her head toward the house. They began to pursue a slow zig-zag course through the yard, using what cover was available. The horrid weather in Scotland was not present here, though the sky was gloomy and slate-gray with threatening clouds.
The ground-level cellar window was no longer open. Hermione bit her lip in consternation, though she couldn't say that it really surprised her. Voldemort would have had his minions go over every square centimeter of the house, the grounds, and the wards to determine exactly how she had gotten access.
She looked at Ron again, who blended into the rolling hills and ruined township beyond, and he mouthed something. She was unable to make it out because of the charm, and shook her head.
"What do we do?" he asked in a barely audible voice.
"It's a lot more risky to dismantle a house-ward," she whispered back. "But we don't have much choice. If they're monitoring it - even from somewhere else - we won't have a whole lot of time."
"What about a monitoring charm?" Ron asked. "Like the one Tonks used outside Godric's Hollow. We could at least find whether or not anyone's here." Hermione nodded, smiling gratefully at Ron's idea, and cast the spell. A heartbeat later, a white spark flew around the side of the house and re-entered the tip of her wand.
"It's clear. There's no one here," she hissed at Ron. He gestured toward the window, with an after you flourish, and she bent down to examine it. The ward detector on her wand glowed blue.
She worked for a moment, with Ron keeping watch behind her, her brow furrowed in concentration, muttering incantations low under her breath. Her wand moved in a rapid, intricate motion. There was a barely detectable shimmer, like the flicker of distant lightning, and just like that, they could pass through the wards. She threw a glance over her shoulder at Ron, and nodded, one downward jerk of her chin. She heaved the window open - it was stubborn with age and disuse - and lowered herself through the sill.
Ron followed, landing heavily, and chuffing up a cloud of dust that made him sneeze. The room looked the same as it had the last time she'd been here. It gave her an eerie, discomfiting sense of déjà vu. Ron must have sensed her unease, for he reached out and squeezed her hand. She smiled at him, and they moved out of the room and down the hallway. They were still Disillusioned, but they moved with more confidence, knowing that the house was empty save for them.
And then they were in front of the cell door. Hermione took a deep breath and twisted the knob. It gave easily, and Hermione was almost surprised. There was no otherworldly green light in the room, as the dampening field was no longer activated. Still the filthy padding that had been Harry's bed was rumpled in the corner, and sinister, dark stains splashed the walls here and there. Hermione could still pinpoint the bloodstain that had come from the Muggle girl Polyjuiced to look like her. The room gave her chills, and she eyed the one-way glass uncomfortably. Suppose someone is watching, she couldn't help thinking, even as she dismissed the notion as absurd and dropped her Disillusionment. Ron did the same.
He was gazing around with a nauseated look on his face. She saw his eyes move around rapidly, hesitating ever so slightly on the stains and the general squalor that the room afforded. She knelt by the ring of green stones, darkened now, but still inset securely into the paving stones, while Ron moved restlessly around the room, keeping one eye on the door.
She murmured a slicing spell, but it wasn't strong enough to go through the stone, and she didn't want to risk destroying one of the green stones that would power the field. She gouged at the surrounding area with mild reductors and even tried prying at it with her fingers, but to no avail. She sat back on her heels and cursed, while Ron eyed her with amusement.
"Looks like you've loosened it some," he remarked, kicking at the yellowed pile of rags in the corner, with distaste on his face. "Why not try a Summoning charm? Accio repository stone," he said off-handedly.
One of the green gems rose up from the floor rather abruptly, as if it had been struggling to work itself free, and had only just managed it. Ron caught it lackadaisically in one hand, unable to conceal a grin at the look of unadulterated amazement on Hermione's face.
"It's almost insulting how surprised you look," he said, handing her the rock.
"How did you know what they were called?" she asked, as he offered her a hand up from her knees.
"I can read - and sometimes without anyone making me," he retorted in an injured way. He scuffed at the bedding again, and shook his head in disbelief. "We should go while we can," he said. "It's a wonder no one - hullo, what's this?"
His final kick of the pile of cloth had unearthed a scrap piece of parchment, a corner of it stained rusty red-brown. He unfolded it gingerly. The back of it held some kind of schedule, reading: Strategy 8-10, Legilimency 10-12, Hand to Hand 13-15, Dueling 15-17, Defense 18-20.
"That's Remus's writing," Hermione remarked, having come up beside him to examine the paper. "He must have made that out for Harry - a training schedule." Ron flipped the parchment over, and saw a missive scrawled in Harry's cramped hand.
"Where did he get a quill and ink?" Hermione wondered aloud. Ron thrust the paper at her hastily, flushing a shade of red that was brilliant, even in the dimness of the cell.
"It's for you," he mumbled, and she dropped her eyes to the parchment curiously.
Hermione,
Ron suddenly snatched it back from her, causing her to make a noise of angry protest. He shook his head resolutely.
"Away from here first. Then, you can read it." She flushed crimson, realizing that she very well may have sat down in Tom Riddle's basement, in the very room in which Harry had been held captive, to read this letter.
"Of course," she said faintly. They made their way in silence back to the cellar window through which they'd entered, and recast their charms. Ron gave Hermione a leg up, and then clambered out himself. The clouds were thicker now, and a brisk wind tore at their clothing and hair. The hill on which the house was situated gave them a good vantage point over the surrounding countryside and the village that had once been Little Hangleton. It too had been decimated, suffering much the same fate that Godric's Hollow had.
He took her arm as if to Apparate away, but she shook her head quickly. The Disillusionment charm caused the air to ripple outward wildly as she moved.
"We should get out of here, Hermione," Ron hissed.
"I don't want to read this in front of him," she insisted stubbornly. Distant thunder rumbled, and she pointed down to the village. "Let's go down there."
They meandered down into the village, taking shelter inside one of the most intact buildings left, one that had once been a florist's apparently, judging by the large quantity of smashed glass and the bits and scraps of dried, dead flowers that littered the room. Hermione was glad to be out from under the eye of the looming old manor house, and wondered how many in the village had felt the same way. Ron gave the shop a quick once-over, sealed it off, and remained stationed at the front door. Hermione settled on a stool behind a high counter, the fragrant aroma of flowers still lingering lightly around the room like a ghostly presence.
"Here," came one clipped word from Ron, and she looked up in time to see the folded square of parchment come sailing towards her. She caught it between the palms of her hands, and opened it up, trembling slightly.
The writing was sloppy and scrawled, as if someone were in a hurry, possibly making an effort not to be observed. As Hermione scanned the parchment, looking more at the physical aspects of the letter than the words it contained, she noticed that the hue of the ink changed several times, and she wondered again how he had obtained the quill and ink. Her eyes finally drifted back to the top of the page.
Hermione, (it read)
I know it's not likely that you'll ever see this, but I had to try and write anyway. I saw you last in the Forbidden forest, after Lucius Malfoy had taken my wand. I hope you made it. I hope you and Ron are okay. I wish I knew for sure.
I'm going to die.
Hermione stifled a sob, clapping a hand over her mouth at the frank words, even knowing in hindsight that it had not happened.
Voldemort's got me, and he and Malfoy have been draining away my magic. Soon there won't be a thing I can do to stop him. I've failed, and I'm so ashamed. All the people who have died, and I couldn't even succeed at the task I was supposedly born to do…
Hermione, I wanted to thank you for always being there for me. The night I dragged Ron up to the girls' loo was the best one of my life. It brought me you, and I could never have done what I've done without you. You gave me strength, and thinking of you, I think I can face anything, even Voldemort, even death…
This word was written very hastily, and dwindled messily down the page. If Hermione hadn't known for sure that Harry was safely ensconced in a cabin in Northern Scotland, she would have feared the worst. He must have been interrupted, she guessed, and had to hide the parchment.
It's amazing how brave I can be when I know you'll never read this. I suppose the worst it can do is give Voldemort something else to laugh about after I'm gone.
I love you, Hermione. I wish you could know how much. I'm not even sure I realize how much. I wish I had known before you and Ron had gotten together. You have no idea how hard it's been to watch you together, and wonder if it might have been different if I had just opened my mouth sooner.
I can see your face so clearly in my mind right now. It's almost as if you're in the room with me. But the way I like remembering you best is hunched over a pile of books in the library, writing so fast that your quill's a blur, everything in your face scrunched up in concentration. You're beautiful all the time, but I think those are the times when your soul lights up your eyes.
I sometimes used to see myself in a little cottage somewhere - Hogsmeade maybe, if it hadn't been destroyed - living there with my wife, maybe working at Hogwarts, with a back garden full of sprogs. The only person I could ever picture as their mother is you. I think I'll regret that most of all. I always wanted a real family - like Ron's.
He must have been interrupted again, for when the writing resumed, it was much scratchier, nearly illegible.
Damn it, I think they've broken my fingers. I don't know how long I was out, but they'll probably be back soon. Voldemort must know the horcruxes are gone, because he hasn't faced me yet. I'm sure he will soon, to put an end to all of this. I wish I could tell everybody how unbelievably sorry I am.
He knows, Hermione. I tried to keep him out, but he went into my mind, and he found out about you. At first he thought it was Ginny, but now he knows. If anything happens to you because of my failure, I will never forgive myself.
I'm going to pretend that you've escaped, that you're fine - you and Ron - and that you'll live happily ever after together. You'll have lunches at the Burrow on Sundays, and Mrs. Weasley will cluck over when she's going to get any grandchildren and embarrass all her kids. Ron may not say it often, or say it well, but he really does fancy you quite a bit, Hermione. I guess I won't mind so much, as long as I know that you're happy and taken care of.
I will love you forever,
Harry
By the time she had gotten to the signature at the bottom of the parchment, she was sobbing freely, tears flowing down her face as if she had an endless supply of them. She was struggling to refold the paper, but the tears had blinded her, and she dropped it. Ron came over from his post at the shop door, and picked it up, folding it deftly, and tucking it gently into the pocket of her cloak, his face a mask, alert and all business.
"Looks like another patrol is on its way. Let's go home," he said.
~~**~~
They Apparated with dual cracks into the main room of the tiny cabin. Harry had been reading again, but leapt from the mattress, knocking the revered old book to the floor heedlessly, at the sight of Hermione's swollen, tear-stained face.
"What the hell happened?" he exclaimed wildly, looking to Ron, as Hermione launched herself at him, locking her arms around his neck, and reveling in his nearness. He was toasty warm from where he'd been huddled under the blankets, and he smelled like a library. She looked up into his face searchingly, and saw that his anger from when they'd left had been forgotten. She saw only concern for her blazing from his green eyes.
"We… erm, we found your letter," Ron told him uncomfortably, hoisting his knapsack off his shoulder, unsnapping the ward detector from his wand, and laying the two pieces on the table, along with the repository stone they'd retrieved.
"My letter? What letter?" Harry shook his head, clearly confused. Hermione was still sniffling into his shoulder, and she knew that she was making his shirt all wet.
"This one," she said croakily, pulling it out of her pocket. -ueling 15-17, Defense 18- was clearly visible in their former professor's looping script. She watched Harry carefully, and saw all the color drain from his face as he recognized the parchment.
"Did you read it?" he asked Ron, looking at him almost furtively. Ron's face was inscrutable.
"No," was all he said, busying himself with the objects on the table. Harry looked as if he might like to explain what he'd written to his best mate, but Hermione was steering him into their bedroom and closing the door. With a nonchalant flick of her wand, she had cast a Silencing spell. Harry sat down on the bed, but Hermione carefully picked up Hogwarts: A History from where it had fallen, and set it back on the mattress.
"Are you okay?" he asked gently, brushing at the traces of wetness on her cheeks with his thumbs. She nodded, even as she felt the stinging onslaught of renewed tears prick her eyes. "I'm sorry it upset you. I never really thought anyone would read it."
"It just reminded me what a close shave we've had," Hermione said, rolling her eyes at herself, with a wobbly smile. "I don't know why I'm such a waterworks today. I'm acting like an idiot." Harry leaned his forehead against hers, and smiled apologetically at her. She closed her eyes, could feel his thumbs still moving gently over her jaw line, her cheekbones, and into her hair.
"Did you mean it?" she asked presently.
"What? The letter? I meant every word. Most people don't lie when they think they're about to snuff it," he spoke the last sentence lightly, but Hermione still flinched. She focused on the hem of the rumpled blanket, rolling it between her fingers.
"Did you mean the part about the cottage? About children?" Her voice was low, nearly a mumble. He kissed her softly on the temple, and she could feel his lips part in a smile.
"I meant that most of all," he whispered into her hair, and her heart felt like it would surge upward out of her chest. His lips found hers then, and they clung together, even as a few isolated tears wended their way down her cheeks.
"So, do you want to - someday?" she said, striving to sound casual, but figuring that she was failing miserably.
"Have kids? With you?" he asked, cocking a quizzical eyebrow at her, as if the idea had never occurred to him. But in the next instant, he was kissing her as if her lungs would provide him with air to breathe, and she felt herself being borne back onto the sagging bed, Harry's comforting weight atop her. He paused to brush a few strands of hair out of her face, and looked at her in a way that made heat suffuse Hermione's face.
"Only if you'll marry me first," he whispered, and Hermione could have sworn that her heart missed a beat.
"Okay," she whispered back, nodding, sliding her mouth against his as she did so. She would have pursued this avenue further, but he stopped kissing her, and looked at her as if her answer surprised him.
"Really?" She hit him half-heartedly on the chest.
"Of course, really," she replied.
"No backing out if I happen to survive?" His smile was cheeky, but his eyes were disarmingly tender. Hermione was so glad he appeared to have gotten over the black mood he was in when they left for the Riddle house. And she was even more humbled and grateful by the fact that she could improve his moods, that she made him happy. She had spent so much time in Muggle schools, and initially at Hogwarts, being generally overlooked, that the fact that a boy - a man - could so desire her and be influenced by her, was still a little difficult to believe.
"That's not funny, Harry," she reprimanded him, and he responded by kissing her quite thoroughly again.
"No, it's not," he agreed. "My heart would be completely crushed." She glowered at him, but her mouth twitched traitorously. He laughed, and his eyes lit up. Her heart sang. When the war is over, I want this again, she pleaded, not even sure to whom she was raising her supplication. Please let me - let us - have this again.
~~**~~
After a quite enjoyable hour or so holed up in their bedroom, they were interrupted by an awkward Ron, rapping on the door, but not opening it, and reminding them that there were tasks at hand.
"So you found it then?" Harry asked, giving her a hand up, as they smoothed their disheveled clothing and left the bedroom. She grinned at him, though feeling somewhat ashamed that what was important could be so easily driven from their minds in pursuit of more carnal things.
"We found it," Ron answered, gesturing to the benign looking green stone on the table. Harry picked it up, and eyed it rather dispassionately.
"So what happens first?" he asked.
"I think first we have to activate it," Hermione said, reaching for her wand.
"The hell you do!" Harry said, tossing it back to the table's surface, where it clattered loudly, and startling the other two with his violent reaction. "Do you know what this thing did to me the last time it was active?"
"Harry, calm down," Hermione told him evenly. "There's only one of them this time. There were two or three dozen embedded in the floor of that cell. Besides, I only need it active long enough to extract the essence from it… I hope it will be like extracting components from a potion - shouldn't take long." Harry appeared to be slightly mollified, but he still walked to a point that put him as far away from the table as possible.
She carefully cleared off the table, and laid the green rock down in the center of it. Taking a deep breath, her glance bounced up to Harry over in the corner, and then back down to the repository stone.
"Opero," she intoned, tapping the rock lightly with her wand. There was a rushing noise, and beams of light shot out from the different faces of the rock, before it settled down to a dull glow and a low buzzing hum. She used the fishing-rod motion that she and Fred had used to extract Neville's potion ingredients, but the repository stone was hesitant to give up its secrets. Finally, a small wispy curl of mist began to poke itself up from the top of the stone. Hermione pulled harder, muttering aiding incantations under her breath, as she heard Harry gasp. A quick look told her that he was beginning to slump in the corner. "I'm trying to hurry, Harry!" she assured him, in a voice that was only slightly frantic.
What seemed like ages later, but was probably only a few minutes, she had pulled the entire strand from the stone. Ron had dragged a chair over to Harry, and had helped him to sit.
"Finite Incantatem," she said hastily, tapping the stone again, being careful to keep the thin strand hovering above it. "Harry, are you okay?" He was pale and clammy, with sweat beginning to bead on his forehead and temples.
"I think so," he said heavily, already beginning to sit up straighter, once the repository stone had been deactivated. "Did you get it?" Hermione nodded in triumph, and then turned her attention to the glowing strand of magic.
Within moments, she had created another strand that floated there next to the first, coiling and writhing in an exact mirror image. Ron and Harry had come to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with her, watching curiously as she manipulated the magic. She then cast a Concealment charm on the inactive stone, causing it to disappear, and then slowly extracted the charm that she had just cast. Instead of green, it glowed a translucent pale gold, and hovered there in space next to the other two.
"Spells leave the wand too quickly to be caught," Hermione said out of the side of her mouth, her eyes never leaving the three hovering strands of magic. "It's easier to cast it on something, and then extract it." Ron looked at her in wonder.
"Where the bloody hell did you learn this stuff?" he asked.
"I can read," she said haughtily, mocking the tone of voice he'd used with her earlier, and they shared a smile. She could feel Ron's careful gaze flitting from her to Harry, and she knew that he was burning with curiosity regarding the contents of the letter. She also knew that he'd rather die than ask about it, and she wasn't sure that his reading it was a very good idea anyway.
"So, now what do you do?" Harry asked in a hushed whisper, watching the sparkling strands roil and gyrate in mid-air.
"Now," Hermione said slowly, grabbing the mirror-image strand with her wand, and maneuvering it toward the Concealment spell, "we put this bit of magic - that's the `opposite' of your magical signature - inside the Caecus spell." With a little flourish she did so, and the hybrid spell changed to a deep, shimmering orange. "And it's ready to cast."
"Just like that?" Harry queried. Hermione returned Harry's magical essence to the repository stone, and tucked the stone into her knapsack.
"Just like that," Hermione affirmed. At the boys' questioning glances, she jerked her chin toward where she'd placed the stone. "We might need it later." She laid her wand down on the table, and wiped sweaty palms on her jeans. "Are you ready to try it?"
"What? Now?"
"No time like the present," she said, seeming slightly amused. She picked up her wand again, and a swirling motion drew the new spell into the tip of the wand. Giving Harry no warning at all, she simply said, "Caecusco Magus."
The spell shot in an orange streak toward Harry, hitting him squarely in the chest, and diffusing all over him in a kind of translucent ripple. Harry and Ron both stared at Hermione, startled, but Harry seemed to relax when he didn't immediately grow an extra limb or turn colors.
Hermione muttered a detection spell under her breath, and said,
"Now, Harry, cast a spell."
"Wingardium Leviosa," he said hesitantly. A crumpled dishcloth began to rise from its resting place next to the sink.
"Did it register?" Ron asked curiously, leaning over Hermione's shoulder. She smiled in wild glee.
"Not a thing!" she exclaimed. She turned toward Harry, who let the rag plop softly back to the sink, her mouth open, as if she was going to say something else, but he snatched her up in his arms, whirling her around.
"You are bloody brilliant," he whispered in her ear, his breath feeling hot with promises in her ear.
"But Harry," she protested after a moment of enjoyment in his arms. "There's no way to know whether Voldemort detects you. The only way to tell is - is - "
"By whether or not he comes after us," Harry finished for her grimly, exchanging a somber look with Ron. "Then we can't go back to the Order yet. Not until we're sure." Hermione pressed her lips together in sympathy, and shook her head, wordlessly agreeing with Harry.
"You'll have to start doing some magic though, right, mate?" Ron asked, a little anxiously. "There's no way to know if - if Voldemort can track you, without your doing any magic." Hermione looked back at Ron, with large pensive eyes.
"He's right, Harry. It's the only way I know of to test it." Harry's eyes flicked toward the windows, where the slate-colored sky was as forboding as ever, but the rain seemed to have finally stopped.
"What about the village?" He asked, nodding his head toward the bend in the road, where the village lurked just out of sight around the foot of a jutting hill. Hermione's hesitance gave him his answer. "I don't want to put them in danger. That Levitating spell was probably okay since it wasn't long, but I shouldn't do anything more. They're Muggles - they won't be able to defend themselves against Death Eaters."
"Then I suppose we should leave again," she sighed. Ron had already moved toward the doorway of his bedroom, apparently planning on repacking his trunk, when his movements were interrupted by an ear-splitting explosion that rattled the window glass in its panes and vibrated the planking beneath their feet.
"What the - ?" Ron managed to say, and Hermione glanced at them both; they looked as mystified as she. There was a flicker like distant lightning, and at the same time, something began to wail shrilly. Hermione rushed to examine a blinking indicator - previously invisible - that had appeared on the wall above the fireplace.
"Somebody's crossed through the wards," she reported frantically. "Two, four, eight… eleven, fifteen people - fifteen wands…" They exchanged ominous looks.
"Harry…" Ron said tentatively. "He couldn't have traced you - the Wingardium - that quickly? How is that even possible?"
"No," Harry's voice was level and certain, and his face was as grim as death. "It's the village. He's destroyed every Muggle village that can ever possibly be associated with him. Now they're here." He shook his head. "We were fools to come here. We should have known."
"He hadn't crossed the Scottish border before," Hermione protested, wanted to absolve him of his guilt. "There was no way to know he'd come here too. They obviously have no idea we're here. We should go before they - "
"No!" Harry's outburst surprised her into silence. "I'm not leaving them here to die. You know he's ordered the Death Eaters to kill them all."
"Harry," it was Ron that spoke up this time, "mate," he tried gently, "if any of the Death Eaters get wind of you, that'll bring Voldemort and every Death Eater in Britain here faster than nifflers storming a gold mine."
"Not if they don't know it's me," he replied. "Hand me the cloak."
~~**~~
Precious moments later, after swiftly cleaning out the cabin and securing their shrunken trunks in the bole of a tree, the Trio were slinking from the isolated hut, able - once outside - to clearly hear the wails of terror and the zing of curses flying. The granite sky had taken on a distinctly orange hue. Harry was under the invisibility cloak at his friends' insistence, since his magical ability was all but negligible, but he had refused to remain behind. They were Glamoured slightly, and Hermione hoped that it would be enough to fool Death Eaters at a smoky distance, especially considering that they weren't expecting any wizarding presence at all.
"Look there!" Ron hissed, as they rounded the humped shoulder of the hill, keeping as close to the shadowed side of the road as they could. A knot of terrified Muggles were concealed in a small lane behind the bakery, hunched behind the trashbins. There were shouts from the far end of town, which was already ablaze, but the Death Eaters had not yet made it to their side. Hermione shook her head in disgust; so confident in their murderous victory were they that the Death Eaters had not even bothered to surround the town.
There was a wailing screech of tires and the ghastly sound of rending metal, punctuating by hoarse inhuman laughs. A rush of air and a billow of sparks could clearly be seen, as a desperate Muggle behind the wheel of a car evidently crashed into a burning building.
"Psst," Ron hissed, as they reached the knot of Muggles. There looked to be about fifteen. The baker jumped and whirled, raising a long knife in a defensive gesture. Ron and Hermione held up their hands in the universal gesture for peace.
"Mr…McWhorter?" The baker said curiously, using the pseudonym they'd given him, squinting at him in the unnatural dimness provided by the smoky backdrop.
"'Sme," Ron confirmed. "We had to… change our appearance a bit." He nodded toward the fiery town. "What's going on?" The baker shook his head in incomprehension.
"It's like Armageddon," a woman wailed softly, and there was a murmur of agreement.
"They've cut off the road?" Hermione asked urgently. The baker nodded.
"They're everywhere at once - moving like lightning. I've never seen anything like it. This end of the road is useless - it winds past your cabin for about a half-kilometer, and then ends at the sea," he informed them. Ron and Hermione exchanged long looks, and then Harry wrenched the invisibility cloak off impatiently, causing frightened cries to erupt from the villagers.
"We've got to do it. We've no choice," he said heatedly.
"Harry - " Hermione berated him in an annoyed tone. A horrendous, unearthly screaming pierced the air, and the Muggles huddled together reflexively out of fear. The Trio exchanged looks again. Someone was being Crucio'd.
"Where'd you come from?" the baker asked, suspicion and doubt igniting in his eyes.
"Listen to me, and listen well," Harry said intently. "These people attacking your homes are - are different from you. They can't be reasoned with, and you can't fight them. They have…abilities that you can't even imagine. We can get you out of here, but you're going to have to trust us." There was a pause that seemed to last an eternity. Hermione's pulse was racing, blood roaring in her ears for them to hurry, hurry, hurry.
"If we don't…" the baker drew out hesitantly. The other in the group seemed to be looking to him for guidance.
"Then you'll die." Harry was not mincing words, and Hermione winced a little, as another inarticulate cry rose up on the wind. The baker looked over his shoulder at the approaching destruction, then looked back to the Trio and nodded.
"Then we've no choice, do we?" Harry's eyes indicated his approval, and he drew Hermione and Ron into a knot, a short distance away.
"Harry, what are you doing? You know the rules… you know…" Hermione stopped, floundering for a moment as she remembered that the old rules no longer applied, because the old world order had been obliterated.
"Look, you two can Apparate them out…it doesn't really matter where. Then, Obliviate them if you like. But we can't just leave them here to die. You saw what happened at Godric's Hollow and Little Hangleton!"
"What are you going to do?" she asked, laying a concerned hand on his arm. By way of answer, he threw the invisibility cloak back over his head.
"I'm going to see if there's anyone left alive. If I find anyone, I'll bring them back here to you," he said in a slightly muffled voice. Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but stopped, correctly assuming it to be pointless. He reached out and caressed her hand lightly with an unseen touch, and then, with the faintest ripple on the breeze, he was gone. She stood there for an instant - an age - longer, and jumped violently when Ron touched her arm. He didn't say anything, but merely jerked his head in the direction of the knotted clump of frightened Muggles. She tore her eyes away from the mouth of the alley, twisted around, and followed Ron, vaguely heard him say,
"All right, let's go."
"What are you going to do?" A woman in the back of the group, with two children clinging to her skirts and a baby in her arms, said, her voice quavering with fear.
"We're going to get you out of here." There was a roaring of escaped flame as a building collapsed in on itself. The fire was getting closer. "Where's the nearest town?" Ron asked the baker imperiously.
"About fifteen kilometers back to the south," he said, pointing in the direction of the Death Eaters.
"Small as this?"
"No, no maybe two or three times the size of our village." Hermione and Ron exchanged glances one last time. He reached through the crowd and pulled the woman with the two small children up first.
"Give me the children," Hermione said gently, holding out her arms. The toddlers recoiled into the folds of fabric, and whimpered softly. She locked eyes with their mother. "Tell them to come with me."
"Where are you - "
"There's no time! They'll be perfectly safe, I assure you." The woman moved to disentangle her children's grasping hands, as their cries became louder. Ron moved toward the mouth of the alley anxiously. Hermione knelt to pick them up, fighting their flailing bodies, as they strove to reach for their mother, who was tearfully trying to reassure them that everything would be fine. "Bring their mother next," Hermione barked at Ron. "I can't leave them there alone."
"Can you manage it?" Ron asked, and Hermione knew that he was not talking about the children. She met his eyes for an instant and swallowed, but nodded. Apparating a specific distance away, rather than to an actual set of coordinates was not necessarily more difficult, but was something that she had not attempted recently. She mentally concentrated on fourteen kilometers to the south, just to make sure that she didn't Apparate herself and the children into someone's parlor wall, and gripped the children to her tightly, as she blinked away.
The children's wailing was siren-like in her ears, as they reappeared in on top of a rolling hillock. Twinkling below them she could see the lights of a substantial town, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She could feel warm wet tears from the sobbing two-year-old soaking her neck, and she leaned her head down on top of his.
"Shhh," she soothed. "Your mum will be along in just a moment." At her words, there was a rush of air rather than a crack, and Hermione knew that Ron had just followed her medallion. He had one arm around the mother's waist. Hermione met his eyes, nodded once, and vanished again, going back for another group.
~~**~~
Hermione bounced on the balls of her feet in the alley, waiting for Harry. Ron had taken the baker, who insisted on staying until everyone had gone, and now the area behind the trash bins was empty. She quickly cast a Disillusionment charm on herself, as there were cracks of Apparation very close by.
A voice said, "Incendio," and the bakery was engulfed in flames almost instantly. Hermione began to slink toward the alleyway opening. She didn't want to Apparate within the town, not knowing the Death Eaters' exact positions, although she blessed whatever foolhardiness or arrogance had stopped them from erecting anti-Apparation wards. She guessed that they had wanted to Apparate around, "like lightning", in order to engender more fear in the Muggles they were murdering.
"The last few buildings `ave been completely empty," she heard someone say.
"You think they've been tipped off?" said another voice.
"They can't `ave gone far," the first one said with confidence. "We'll find `em. You know what `e said…nobody's to be left alive."
Then there was a commotion, with both Death Eaters making startled noises. Worried that they had somehow detected her presence, Hermione backpedaled, crouching once again in the shadows of the bins. The heat was almost unbearable, and she jerked backwards instinctively, bringing her elbow into contact with the bin with a resounding clang.
"What the bloody `ell was that?" cried the first voice, and then she saw his shadow fall across the alley. Hermione raised her wand, every single nerve ending in her body alert and poised for action. The instant his cloaked form was visible around the leading edge of the wall, she felled him with a non-verbal Stupefy to the head.
She held her breath without realizing it, waiting for what was to come next, but the second Death Eater never crossed in front of the alley.
"Reducto! We got wizards here! We got wizards here!" he said in a deafening voice, raising the alarm, as he Apparated away. She could hear his voice more faintly, as he warned his companions. Then the implication of the reductor curse reached her consciousness, as the flaming bakery toppled towards the alley. Even as the structure began to fall, she felt a sudden surge of energy flow through her, and the eerie lighting around the town snapped and flickered slightly. Anti-Apparation wards. Ron would not be coming back.
Hermione hesitated for only a fraction of a second, before plunging toward the main street. She could not stay there by the trash bins, and she would not leave without Harry. Sparks and chunks of flaming debris rained down around her.
A swath of burning fabric draped across the junction of her neck and shoulder, searing her, burning her hands as well, when she shrieked and attempted to bat it away. She dropped her wand in the effort, and was in the process of Summoning it back to her, when she felt a large piece of timber strike her in the back, knocking her onto her face in the mud from the recent rain, and sending blinding pain slicing through her. Her head was swimming, her hands throbbed, and she smelled charred flesh.
Oh, God, Harry…she thought desperately, as she clung to consciousness with her fingernails. There were cries now, roars of fury from the Death Eaters, and they were coming closer. Her right arm was pinned at her side, and she reached round blindly, struggling for her wand.
"Accio…" she croaked. Black spots appeared in front of her vision. The pain was becoming all-encompassing.
"Wingardium Leviosa," came a quiet command from nowhere, in such a welcome voice that Hermione felt her eyes suffuse with tears. The painful, burning weight was lifted off her back, and then she felt a cloth hitting her, beating out any residual flames.
"They're right behind me. Can you stand?" She wondered if she must be out of her head from her fall because she could hear the hysterical shrieking of a young infant. The air in front of her twitched and moved, and then Harry appeared, cradling a tiny baby in his arms. The baby's blanket was now a blackened affair, discarded in the mud beside her. "Her mother dropped her out of a window to me. She - she didn't - the house collapsed." Hermione stood shakily, Accio'd her wand, grasping it gingerly between her fingers, and cast a Silencing spell on the baby. She still thrashed, red-faced and open-mouthed, but was not making a sound. They could now hear the thunder of footfalls on the roadway beyond the alley.
"Can you cast a Protego?" he asked anxiously.
"Harry, I've got my medallion. Let's just go," she said wearily, not sure how long she'd be able to remain standing.
"Please, just for a moment. There's something I want to do." His eyes were imploring with her to trust him, and then she followed his gaze upward. The glowing green of the Dark Mark hovered in the sky above the town.
"Protego," she said, aiming at the entrance to the alley, not requiring any further answers. He glanced at her uncertainly, and she knew what he needed. She pushed as much of her magic toward him as she could, while still maintaining the Shielding spell.
"So that they may all know who was here tonight, who still has his magic, and who still fights Voldemort," he said, and pointed his wand at the sky. Hermione thought that in his stance, still cradling the silently wailing baby, he looked like an avenging Angel.
"Lux Prevalet!" He cried, and a stream of white mist shot from his wand into the air, forming something in the sky. Even in her less than optimum state, Hermione could not keep a smile from playing across her lips.
Shining in the sky, in such a brilliant white that it all but eclipsed the Dark Mark, was a phoenix in flight, superimposed over a blazing bolt of lightning.
TBC
Well, this chapter just nearly wrote itself. I can't believe I finished it so quickly. I guess you can gather for yourselves that I rather liked it. I hope you do too, but don't expect all update to occur so quickly. It also got rather long, but I didn't want to leave too much of a cliff-hanger at the end.
"Lux Prevalet" means "The Light Prevails" and I quite shamelessly stole it from one of my other stories.
You may leave a review on your way out, if you like.
lorien
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