Unofficial Portkey Archive

Wherein Hermione testifies at the Death Eater trial; undergoes unexpected cross-examination; learns shocking truths about two authority figures in her life; has a musically induced relapse; finds a confessor in Luna; finds herself further entangled in Harry's affairs; meets with goblins; gets financial advice from an unexpected source; there is a breakthrough in the research; and a loss is partially explained.

Disclaimer: I neither own nor claim any other rights in the characters and other concepts created by J.K. Rowling. I make no money, nor do I seek any commercial advantage from this work. As such it constitutes "fair use" as defined in 17 U.S.C. §107.

Chapter 32 - Goodbye Gryffindor

It was going to be the trial of the century. The five of them - Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Luna, and Neville - were all witnesses to at least some of the crimes that had been charged, and thus would be eyewitnesses not only in this trial, but to Wizarding history. Fresh from her remarkably poised performance that added an exclamation point to the end of the protracted Black inheritance litigation, Hermione was to be the leadoff witness. Across from her, eleven Death Eaters were standing trial for their lives, or at least their souls.

She was not sure that she liked that…. Not sure at all….

The more Hermione learnt about how this trial would be conducted, the less comfortable she felt in her role. A new law, rushed through the Wizengamot and made retroactive, declared that anyone who caused death through concerted Dark magic under the personal supervision of Voldemort was subject to the death sentence - even where the defendant had not personally cast the fatal spell. All who accompanied the Dark Lord were chargeable with the crimes of any.

Beyond that, the new procedures for Death Eater trials that Dumbledore had insisted upon were having unintended consequences. One reform required that all Death Eater trials be open to the public. In the wake of Harry's spectacular kidnapping, the wizard public's interest in this trial became extraordinarily intense. The sheer massed number of witches and wizards expected to attend forced the Ministry to move the trial to a new, much larger venue. The Wizengamot's dungeon-like courtrooms simply were not large enough to hold the Trial of the Wizarding Millennium. The prosecution requested, and the tribunal agreed, that the proceedings be moved to newer, temporary quarters that could accommodate the anticipated throng.

These new quarters were in Kent. Dedalus Diggle provided the Ministry with free use of a large fallow field on his rural demesne. The man was a trustworthy member of the Order, and the site was perfect. In return, he asked only that he be allowed to collect license fees from any vendors. The scope of the magical construction that followed was only somewhat less expansive than building a Quidditch World Cup stadium.

Harry Potter had been instrumental in apprehending the eleven defendants - albeit somewhat less so than the Prophet's breathless coverage led the public to believe - but instrumental nonetheless. The ensuing attack on London, and Harry's simultaneous disappearance, focussed public attention on the mass trial. The Prophet had taken to referring to it as the "Potter Legacy."

Thus, public mood was predictable: implacably hostile to the Death Eaters, who were universally reviled as complicit in the most recent, devastating attack. A very large, very angry crowd was expected. Every now and then, just as in the Muggle world, a particularly heinous crime could create a shared desire for vengeance resembling community-wide bloodlust - particularly when stoked by virulent Yellow journalism. These eleven Death Eaters were now the focus of just such pitiless impulses.

Not that their own motives that night had been much different.

The Dumbledore Reforms also changed the tone and procedures of Death Eater trials. Gone were the sarcastic questioning and prosecutorial tirades of the days of Crouch the Elder. Also consigned to history were the frequently equally fiery speeches of defense barristers. Replacing them, it was hoped, were the stern, emotionless voices of logic and law. Now, both sides would submit questions for the witnesses to an investigating magistrate - in this case, a formidable justice by the name of Cromwell Peakes. Even though they had had their differences in the past, even Dumbledore agreed that (after the death of Amelia Bones) he was the best-qualified wizard to preside over a trial of this magnitude.

Neither side would know the other's questions in advance.

Nor would there be any summations - no dramatic speeches or pontificating in closing argument, no rallying cries of guilt or innocence, justice or injustice.

With all the evidence presented, the magistrate immediately instructed the finder of fact on the law and turned the case over to their capable hands for deliberations. Where, as here, capital charges had been preferred, a jury of fifteen members of the Wizengamot, drawn by lot, passed upon both guilt and sentence.

A convicted defendant's final hope was a new automatic right of appeal for clemency to the Minister of Magic. This process had never before been pressed into service, so these cases would be matters of first impression. The Minister had seven days to decide, at his absolute discretion, if the Dementor's Kiss should be carried out - or commuted to the arguably more humane (and certainly more reversible) sentence of life in Azkaban.

For these eleven, however, that hope (if life in Azkaban could be considered a hope) was almost surely a forlorn one. It was uncertain who was even Minister. The Aurors were threatening to quit en masse if the Minister did not, and there were rumours that Fudge's own resignation was imminent. Even were he to survive the current crisis, his political situation was precarious.

Minister Fudge was still subject to strong public suspicion that Death Eater Lucius Malfoy - who just happened to be the best known of the eleven defendants - had bribed him. The likelihood that Fudge would disturb any sentence, under these circumstances, was widely considered nil. Hedging their bets just a bit, the prosecution had pointedly reserved all bribery charges against Malfoy. The penalties accompanying the pending indictment were more than enough to eliminate any need for a second trial on bribery … unless the defendants' sentences were somehow commuted.

Dumbledore's reforms had not contemplated a situation where exercise of clemency might put the Minister himself in the dock - unintended consequences indeed.

Hermione had almost entirely given up reading newspapers, both magical and Muggle, to preserve every possible minute for her quest to save Harry. Still, she got a sense of the community's ire from the prosecuting barristers who prepared her for her testimony. The prosecutors were cocky. They considered the trial verdict a foregone conclusion. They would burnish their reputations as barristers, and eleven people would get the Dementor's Kiss - no matter what the testimony.

Hermione was going to participate in that. The mere thought made her wince.

Even though these defendants had almost killed her, Harry, and her friends - and would have been all the more pleased had they succeeded - Hermione was concerned about being reduced to their level. The death penalty was not something to which she had given much thought, until now, and her feelings were extraordinarily ambivalent.

She was a European, and the death penalty seemed foreign - like the Chinese, or the Arabs, or even those wretched Yank southern governors, like in that Texas place, who warranted the deaths of as many people in a year as Voldemort ever did.

But again, the defendants were foul. Ginny had told her about Lucius Malfoy's role in the Chamber of Secrets affair. But merely the crimes for which they were actually charged richly deserved the ultimate penalty. Not only that, many of these Death Eaters had already escaped once from Azkaban. It was not at all certain that prison could hold them. There was thus a firm, practical basis for Ron's view that the only good Death Eater was a dead one - especially these.

Balanced against all that was the nature of the sentence. A Dementor's Kiss was final. It could never be undone. Mistakes had been, and could be, made. Under the new law, Sirius Black would have been eligible for the Kiss given his known presence at Godric's Hollow when Voldemort killed Harry's parents. Yet he had been innocent. Not only was he innocent, but he had escaped prison too.

Delving even deeper into the potentialities, Hermione also realised with deep seated horror that she - and Harry - would also have been at least theoretically eligible for a Dementor's Kiss. In their Third Year, they had provided critical assistance to Sirius' escape from Ministry custody. What they had done that memorable night had been in the eyes of the law a crime far more serious than they could possibly have contemplated at the time. The law of escape had not changed. Anyone convicted of accessory to escape was subject to the same penalty as the person who had escaped.

Thus, many of Hermione's thoughts as she prepared for her third and final appearance as a witness were not good ones. Oddly, or perhaps not, some of her better thoughts were about Harry, despite his predicament….

She had been worried sick about him the day before. Something unusual had happened. He had been awakened in the wee hours of the morning, and was summarily tortured. Of that she was certain. His emotions had been sufficiently atrocious that she had set out for the Headmaster's office in the middle of the night….

She never reached her destination - at least not as intended. Harry's emotions took a series of sudden, odd turns. Under torture he had abruptly become calm, almost preternaturally calm. Then, just as suddenly, she had felt this staggering pang of utter horror from Harry…. Almost immediately, that was followed by … by something….

"Something" was the only way Hermione could describe it. It had not been any particular emotion - or maybe it had been a combination of every emotion that had ever existed.

Whatever it was, it was powerful enough for her to see - as a blinding white flash … and then nothing - nothing in this case meaning her own unconsciousness.

Some indeterminate time later, Hermione had awoken groggily on the floor of the main hallway leading towards the Great Hall. Someone - a man - had been trying to help her but was being distracted by Peeves, who was pelting the both of them with soggy, wet serviettes. The poltergeist had been chanting:

"Hermione Granger, still a stranger. Has she finally cracked?

Trying more than Dumbledore to bring young Potter back."

At first she had thought she was hallucinating - that the man helping her was … Mannock, one of her (and Harry's) instructors in combat flight. She had been wrong, of course, but not by much. The man was Gaston Mannock, the instructor's twin brother. He was also an Auror, an Obliviator. He could not, or would not, tell Hermione what he was doing at Hogwarts, other than to say that he was part of the "added security" put in place due to the increased Death Eater activity.

Peaves' bit of doggerel had not improved her attitude towards the Headmaster, but this Mannock insisted, so she dutifully reported the incident involving Harry to Dumbledore. She speculated that Harry might have made an unsuccessful escape attempt. For more than six interminable hours she was petrified that he might have been killed in the attempt. Hermione was not at all sure if she could survive feeling Harry die a second time. That abyss yawned continually at her feet, but she steadfastly ignored it - otherwise she courted lunacy.

For once her worries had been unnecessary.

The next morning, Harry had been woken up according to the usual schedule. That time, his emotions caused her less upset than any of his conscious interludes since his abduction. The mental torture associated with his every previous waking moment was absent this time. Instead, her affinity radiated with the same unearthly calm of the previous night. No emotional explosion followed, so Hermione could not conclude that anything bad had happened. She had no idea what had transpired, and neither (so it seemed) did Dumbledore.

That good feeling did not survive Hermione's testimony.

She was nervous from the start. Having entered the structure through a secret entrance exclusively for witnesses and other trial participants, Hermione was astounded when she entered what passed for the courtroom. It was surrounded on all sides with steep-rising galleries that called to mind Quidditch grandstands more than they did staid courtroom décor - rank upon rank and row upon row. The space resembled not so much a courtroom as an arena. Thousands and thousands of witches and wizards were either already seated or were filing in, buzzing with conversation.

Covering the entire structure was a white fabric canopy, thick enough to cast solid shadows, hanging from five massive wooden poles. Four poles extended from the corners of the grandstands. A fifth, taller one, was suspended magically. It stood, in mid-air, directly above the centre of the courtroom. Hermione was reminded of a large circus tent - which she thought apt for a trial that she feared was all too likely to become a circus.

Her fears soon came to pass.

Hermione was to be the first witness for the prosecution. Thus, she was present when the shackled defendants, wretchedly dressed in tattered and featureless Azkaban garb, filed in. A horde of surly looking armed goblins, and a half-dozen still-loyal Dementors guarded the prisoners. The guards escorted their charges to eleven solid, blocky wooden chairs in the center of the room. Immediately as the defendants were seated, chains that Hermione had not previously noticed glowed gold. Under their own volition, the fetters snaked up the prisoners' limbs, wrapped around their bodies, and bound them tightly in place.

Morbidly fascinated with the writhing chains, Hermione did not notice as the audience began whistling. The whistling grew louder and louder as more of the jeering crowd became aware of the Death Eaters' arrival. Soon the crowd went beyond whistling.

A small black object came flying out of the stands, dropping onto the floor near the prisoners. For a moment, it lay still. Then it started hopping, a few dozen centimetres at a time. Then a second one was flung into the dock. Another followed, and another, and another…. Hermione had no idea what the crowd were hurling until one - propelled by someone's errantly cast Banishing Charm - almost landed in her lap. Hermione realised with disgust that she had almost been hit with a Dementor action figure that then jumped forward and pretended to kiss whatever it landed upon.

With a crowd of this size, there was no real way to control it if it did not want to be controlled. Trial was delayed for almost a half-hour as the bailiffs hastily erected temporary wards to prevent more objects from being cast into the courtroom area. Eventually, the crowd's whistling, jeering, and hooting abated, and the spectators settled into a tense silence.

Because of a late change in plans, Hermione's testimony was a little tricky. As Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Dumbledore was privy to the deliberations concerning Sirius Black. He decided that it was time to educate the public about Sirius' innocence. The Headmaster's memory of Voldemort's appearance at the Ministry was to be the climax that concluded the prosecution's case. Thus, the Ministry's barristers could hardly prevent Dumbledore from also displaying his memory of Sirius' heroic fight and ultimate death at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. All prosecution witnesses would be asked about how Sirius figured in the Death Eater plot to lure Harry Potter to the Ministry.

It thus fell to Hermione to provide the first public description anywhere of the false vision of Sirius being tortured that Voldemort sent Harry, and of the ensuing consequences. One thing necessarily led to another, so Hermione also would be the first person to reveal publicly to the wider Wizarding world the astonishing fact that the infamous Sirius Black was in fact innocent of all the crimes for which he was imprisoned in Azkaban for twelve years.

She played her part to the hilt.

THE COURT: Why was Mister Potter so affected by the image of Sirius Black being tortured at the hands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?

THE WITNESS: Sirius was Harry's Godfather, and a longstanding member of the Order of the Phoenix. Harry loved him and was hoping to live with Sirius after he was cleared of the killings falsely attributed to him.

THE COURT: You say Black was falsely accused?

THE WITNESS: I know that Sirius Black was in fact innocent of everything with which he was charged, yes.

THE COURT: Black? How could you possibly know this?

THE WITNESS: Sirius was the obvious choice to be Secret Keeper for Harry's parents. To try to trick the Death Eaters, James and Lily switched that role to Pettigrew at the last minute. Pettigrew was working for Voldemort even then, and betrayed all of them.

THE COURT: Peter Pettigrew was a Death Eater?

THE WITNESS: By then, probably. Whether he had taken the Mark or not, he was certainly working for Voldemort….

THE COURT: V-V-Voldemort … can you please not use the name?

THE WITNESS: I'm obligated to speak the truth. Tom Riddle, then.

THE COURT: Umm…. All right. So Black killed Mr. Pettigrew to avenge the Potters, then?

THE WITNESS: No. Sirius didn't kill anyone. He never got the chance. Pettigrew framed Sirius, and the Ministry fell for the trick.

THE COURT: Really? What happened?

THE WITNESS: Peter Pettigrew is a rat animagus and is also still alive. Pettigrew killed all those Muggles to fake his own death and shift the blame to Sirius. He transformed into a rat and escaped. I would not have believed it myself had I not seen Pettigrew transform twice with my own eyes two years and a few months ago. Sirius and Remus Lupin forced those transformations, but Pettigrew changed back, escaped again, and returned to … er … Tom.

THE COURT: I confess to being astonished. Who else can corroborate your testimony?

THE WITNESS: In addition to Remus, Harry and Ron Weasley were there when it happened. Since Pettigrew became a Death Eater, I would presume that most if not all of the defendants are also aware that he still lives - especially Lucius Malfoy…. It is my understanding that after Harry first defeated … Tom Riddle, Pettigrew retrieved Tom's wand and provided it to Malfoy, I suspect for safe keeping….

The prosecutors knew that the elder Malfoy had already revealed precisely this when interrogated under Veritaserum. His - and other - Death Eater testimony ultimately unfolded just as Hermione testified that it would.

She handled her difficult role with more aplomb than she felt, clearly and precisely answering the questions put to her by Magistrate Peakes concerning Sirius. Indeed, the girl handled everything flawlessly - both on direct and cross-examination - until a defense barrister approached the bench and handed up a list of supplemental questions accompanied by what appeared to be several newspaper clippings. Magistrate Peakes' eyes widened as he read the proffered material. He called the prosecutors forward, and a lengthy sidebar ensued.

Sitting rather uncomfortably in a chair with unused manacles hanging limply from the armrests, Hermione had no idea what was causing the delay. Once the conference ended, the prosecuting barrister gave Hermione an odd, skeptical look as he returned to his seat. He was not happy.

Magistrate Peakes addressed a new and completely unexpected line of questioning to her:

THE COURT: Miss Granger, have you been promised … leniency in return for any of the testimony you have given here today?

THE WITNESS: No, not if I understand your question correctly.

THE COURT: Has any member of the prosecution promised you or any member of your family that any pending or threatened criminal charges will be reduced or dropped if you give testimony in this matter that is favorable the Ministry's case?

THE WITNESS: Certainly not.

THE COURT: Have you received any similar promise from anyone associated with Muggle law enforcement?

THE WITNESS: No. I have no idea what you're asking about.

THE COURT: Same question with respect to anyone associated with the Muggle Crown Prosecution Service?

THE WITNESS: No. I have never been threatened with any sort of criminal prosecution, nor has anyone in my family. May I ask what is going on?

Magistrate Peakes called the tipstaff forward and whispered something in her ear. The tipstaff approached Hermione and asked her to hold a talismanic crystal. She then performed a spell that Hermione recognised as intended to confirm that she was still under the influence of Veritaserum. The test was strongly positive - the crystal glowed with a blinding pure white light. Magistrate Peakes had only one more question.

THE COURT: Miss Granger, have you seen any Muggle newspaper within the past twenty-four hours?

THE WITNESS: No, I've been … er … rather busy with … er … rather serious matters at Hogwarts.

THE COURT: I'm terribly sorry, you may step down.

Hermione rather shakily left the witness stand. With her testimony completed, she was permitted to remain for the rest of the proceeding. She chose not to stay. She sensed that something was badly wrong. Remaining immobilised whilst watching Death Eaters on trial for their lives was the last place she wanted to be. Bolting from the courtroom, Hermione sought someplace quiet to contemplate the meaning of that bizarre last line of inquiry.

Instead of finding peace, Hermione was immediately set upon by a score of wizard reporters, who bombarded her with questions about the trial. Startled and half-blinded by flashes from wizard cameras, she staggered, turned on her heel, and started to flee back the way she had come. She almost immediately crashed into Alastor Moody, nearly sending the one-legged former Auror reeling to the floor.

"Whoa, lassie," he cautioned. "Let's get yeh ta someplace private. I'm sorry yeh had ta find out this way…."

Hermione was almost in shock as she let herself be guided. She protested weakly, "Find out about what?!?" Plainly something terrible had happened, but she had no inkling what.

"If'fn yeh don't know yet, it's best that yeh not be learning about it out here," Moody gruffly replied. He led Hermione down a hallway, opened a door, and brought her face to face with Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall.

They both looked grim and sad. Dumbledore bade her to be seated without even offering her a lemon drop. This was serious…. The first thought tumbling through her reeling mind was that something had happened to Harry - she was almost terrified that the Death Eaters holding Harry would not let the trial pass without incident. …But she would have known that herself, before them … would she not?

"I am terribly sorry that you had to encounter that situation unprepared," Dumbledore began, "but you were already being administered Veritaserum when I received word from Mister Creevey…."

"Just tell me what in Hell has happened," Hermione interrupted anxiously, and rather loudly.

Dumbledore took a deep breath. "Apparently the Crown Prosecution Service have just laid bribery charges against your father, and he is currently considered a fugitive from justice."

Hermione gasped in disbelief. Her father's situation had been the farthest thing from her mind. She struggled to maintain her composure. She could not afford another breakdown.

The Headmaster then handed Hermione a rather torn and wrinkled newspaper, adding, "The Financial Times is not ordinarily meant to travel by owl post."

"D-D-Displia." Hermione stumbled on the simple spell, but it worked. Her eyes quickly found the headline just below the fold:

Fugitive Dentist Charged With Bribery

LONDON: The Crown Prosecution Service revealed late yesterday that Dr. Edwin O. Granger, chair of the BDA Dental Advisory Group to the British National Formulary, has been charged with 47 criminal charges of corruption in soliciting and taking bribes from various suppliers of dental equipment. Dr. Granger recently relocated to Australia, but mysteriously disappeared en route. His current whereabouts are unknown.

According to prosecution sources, Dr. Granger's activities came to light when a whistle-blower at Colgate-Palmolive stepped forward with evidence that the company had paid £100,000 in order to secure a spot on the formulary for its dentifrice products. Relying upon advice from the formulary that Dr. Granger essentially controlled, the NHS determines what products dentists throughout the United Kingdom may purchase and use in their practices.

Prosecutors further indicate that the list of companies from which Dr. Granger received payments reads like a "who's who" of EU dental product suppliers. Other names were not immediately available, except that a confidential source confirms that several makers of dental drills are implicated. The source complained that critical electronic records from the leading manufacturer of dental drills in the UK, Grunnings, have gone missing.

Dr. Granger's illegal activities apparently continued for years. The exact total of suspicious payments is still unknown, but is believed to exceed, possibly greatly, £3,000,000. A confidential search warrant was executed last week on Dr. Granger's London surgery, but very little was found, due to the move to Australia and a mysterious fire several weeks previous.

Dr. Granger became chair of the Dental Advisory Group in 1985. He had previously come to prominence as the inventor of the Granger cannulated screw, the first universal screw-based system for implanting false teeth. Royalties from this invention made him a wealthy man, and he became a generous political supporter of Baroness Thatcher, formerly the Right Honourable Margaret Thatcher, LG, OM, PC, FRS, who appointed him to the board. Dr. Granger graduated first in his class from the Harvard School of Dental Medicine in 1974.

Dr. Granger had recently announced his emigration to Australia for unstated `personal reasons.' According to prosecutors, he was supposed to have arrived in Sydney almost a fortnight ago, but never appeared. Particularly, in light of what prosecutors characterise as certain recent "unusual financial transactions," Dr. Granger is considered a fugitive from justice. They caution that he may be armed.

Dr. Granger's wife, who is also a dentist, has not been charged. Because of possible flight risk, she was removed from a steamer en route to Australia the day before charges were preferred. She is a material witness currently assisting in the inquiry on Diego Garcia, British Indian Ocean Territory.

When Hermione finished the article, the paper slid to the floor from her limp hand. Numbly she sat, unmoving, for almost a full minute. Then denial turned into grief, and she began to sob. It was as if someone had touched a stick of dynamite to the bedrock of her self-image. Everything about her existence in the Muggle world had just been exposed as a lie. Her father was a criminal - the very sort of fugitive he had often railed so self-righteously against. He had sold his position to the highest bidder….

Among many other things, this development meant that Hermione no longer had anyplace in Muggle society to go back to. In that world she would forever bear the opprobrium of being a criminal's daughter. Nothing worthwhile awaited her there any longer. Her mother was undoubtedly devastated. All either woman had to look forward to were a succession of blaring headlines, police questioning, and ostracism from the social circles in which her parents - especially her father - had travelled.

Hermione, however, still had her magic. Thank Merlin for her scholarships. At least she would not be forced to drop out of Hogwarts.

Her father's fall from grace also meant the Hermione was witch now - irrevocably. Any possibility she had entertained of abandoning the magical world and all the heartbreak it caused her vanished with these revelations. But what kind of a life was it going to be without Harry? Unless he were rescued, the Death Eaters would surely kill him in retribution for the sentences to be passed today. Despair was starting to overwhelm her once again. She began to hyperventilate….

Hermione felt Professor McGonagall's hands on her shoulders, clucking sweet nothings like her mother used to do when her bushy-haired daughter had been distraught. Then she felt something else pass through her, calming her down and bringing her back to reality. Dumbledore had undoubtedly cast a Cheering Charm. While it was not a bad idea, the charm was unsolicited, and thus unwelcome.

Hermione believed she had a right to brood, at least for a while. She refused to look at him. "That wasn't right," she complained weakly.

"Perhaps," the Headmaster replied. "But it was necessary under the circumstances."

She made an incomprehensible sound, and again retreated within herself. She needed at least a little time to grieve for her lost world. This time, the adults gave it to her….

Looking up at last, Hermione saw the Headmaster regarding her sorrowfully.

"What is to become of me now?" she asked.

"Ultimately you are the master of your own fate," he responded softly. "As for the immediate future, you need not worry about yourself. Your place at Hogwarts is secure. The scholarships you have won are more than sufficient to see you to graduation. You are welcome to stay at the new Order headquarters throughout the summer holiday, if you desire, and beyond. Your father's Muggle transgressions, if that is what they are, should have next to no effect on your magical career. Your career prospects in this, your true world, remain as extraordinary as your talents."

"There, there, lassie, those reporters could have cared less about anything your father did," added Professor McGonagall. "They were after you because you were the first prosecution witness … mostly because of Sirius Black. That's a huge story, at least amongst us … as we intended."

"Wh- wh- what about … the Muggles…? The prosecution…? Will I … have to be involved?" Hermione choked out.

"I cannot make any promises," answered the Headmaster. "It is possible, but there are a select few at New Scotland Yard who are familiar with our world. I know them, and they know me ... particularly now that we're dealing with … that plane crash…. I am hopeful that I can prevail upon them to tread quite lightly as far as you are concerned."

Briefly, Hermione contemplated the principled course of protesting such preferred treatment, but let it go. She was simply too tired to shoulder yet another distraction. There would be time enough for that later. At present, she could hardly presume any claim to moral high ground. Truthfully, Dumbledore's reassurances provided Hermione with more relief than she expected. Gradually her shock diminished, followed by her sorrow - in inverse proportion to another emotion - anger at her father. `No wonder that bastard had coveted Harry's money so badly…,' she thought. `I'll bet anything he set that fire, too, the night of the Death Eater attack.'

A fragment of a memory flashed into her head. Not surprisingly, it involved Harry - one of his many protestations to Snape that "I am not my father." That burden was now hers, as well. She resolved that she was not going to answer for her father either.

And she still had the same job to do - one made all the more pressing by today's events…. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she stood up.

"Are you going to be all right?" Professor McGonagall inquired, her concern evident in her voice and just as plainly etched in her face.

"Healing always takes time, but I'll live," Hermione forced out the necessary reply with a resigned nod of her head. "There's really nothing I can do for Daddy. But I can do something for Harry…. I really need to get back to Hogwarts and bash on with my research."

McGonagall pursed her lips and nodded.

Dumbledore somehow sensed the turmoil behind the girl's outward calm. "You do not wish to stay for the rest of the trial?" he invited. "Not even to lend your support to this old man?"

"I've seen quite enough," she declined his subtle manipulation. "It's a foregone conclusion what the result will be, especially with you to give the coup de grâce, and I really have no great interest in being present to see Dementor's Kiss sentences imposed - no matter how justified they may be."

* * * *

Colin and Dennis were in the conference room, engrossed in the trial broadcast over WWN, when Hermione entered. Dennis jumped up as soon as he was aware of her presence, and rushed over.

"Oh, Hermione, I'm so sorry…. It was your father, wasn't it? You mentioned he was a dentist…. I tried to reach you as soon as I saw it, but nobody was around. My house-elf finally found Hagrid…."

Hermione silently gave thanks for her own precautions. She had not gone immediately to her room after returning to Hogwarts. She could not have successfully maintained a stiff upper lip in the face of … this … had she not prepared herself. She spent half an hour in her sanctuary - the library - trying to gather as many happy memories of her father as possible and generally collecting (and suppressing) her thoughts. As much as she could, Hermione managed to reconcile herself to this latest upheaval by reminding herself that her parents had already decided to leave her. Their decision to move to Australia was made before she had learnt any of this. Since her father had already left her alone, his motives for so doing really did not alter her circumstances very much.

Certainly it was rationalising, but under these circumstances rationality was the only way she was capable of absorbing this latest blow whilst keeping an even keel. Since she had been a small child, rationality had always been her mask to cover deep sorrow and despair. Others - Harry - depended upon her to shake this off and persevere. With her mask as firmly situate as she could muster, Hermione chose her words carefully.

"I'm going to be alright, Dennis," she said, "I have to be. It came as a bit of a shock, I'll admit, especially learning about it first in open court…."

"I know, I heard," Dennis moaned disconsolately.

"…But I will get through this. I-I-I am not my parents. Nor am I really a Muggle any longer. No matter what happens in that world, I have this one, and I can make my own way. I will be all right - eventually. I will deal with it. Please just let it drop. We have more important things that need doing right now."

She could tell that the Creeveys admired her poise and self control. `If they only knew,' she thought.

What she was showing to those around her - her friends, the Hogwarts staff, everyone - was a lie. It was a Potemkin village, a false front, a façade….

Beneath that logical exterior - behind that mental powerhouse so single-mindedly harnessed to the task of finding and freeing Harry - lurked another Hermione. That hidden Hermione was still a girl, scared, guilt-ridden, and staring into the maw of unspeakable failure. That Hermione was not allowed to see the light of day. She only came out at night, in the privacy of her bedroom, her thoughts, and her dreams.

Dumbledore and McGonagall had just managed a glimpse of that girl, before she had gone hiding again. Intellectual Hermione was back at the helm … she thought. However, at the moment, the other Hermione had slipped rather closer to the surface than anyone had any reason to know.

* * * *

The Wizard's Wireless stayed tuned to the trial. Again, Hermione was right. It made absolutely no difference whether or not she was in attendance. Dumbledore gave the bravura performance she expected. All eleven Death Eaters captured in the "Potter's Marauders" mission to the Ministry were sentenced to receive the Dementor's Kiss. If not a foregone conclusion before, the result was sealed by the Headmaster's magically enhanced memory showing everyone just what had happened after she was struck down. Courtesy of some sort of magical cross between a Pensieve and a Jumbotron, the standing-room-only crowd was treated to a ten-metre-high replay of the Headmaster's Death Chamber rescue of his students, his duel with Voldemort, including the Dark Lord's attempt to possess Harry. That was the topper.

Or not.

Dumbledore also bore witness to Sirius' demise at the hand of his Death Eater cousin - adding final confirmation to the story of that man's wronged innocence that her own testimony had introduced.

For the most shocking revelations of the day had little to do with Death Eaters. Their convictions and sentences were expected. As Dumbledore had hoped, the lead story would be that Sirius Black was indeed innocent - and that he had been the sole fatality for the light side at the Ministry. Hermione was altogether too well acquainted with the hidebound tendencies of Wizard society. She knew that the abrupt turnabout in Sirius' image, from the Ministry's most wanted fugitive, to a martyr to the cause of righteousness, would be difficult for that public to digest.

Hermione snorted bitterly as she mulled the situation over. Ironically, Sirius's death made everything that much easier for the powers that be. Having the man himself alive would have been so … inconvenient … for those who had connived in his incarceration without trial. His death made it so much simpler just to let bygones be bygones.

Would it be the same with Harry?

No, dammit!

She was not going to let anyone find out. Not while a breath remained in her body.

Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon in the Restricted Section pursuing her research. She worked with an increasing sense of foreboding. The trial, in effect, had set a deadline for her work. The more she considered the matter, the more she was convinced that the Death Eaters holding Harry would execute him in retaliation for their brethren receiving the Dementor's Kiss. Her heightened urgency was unfortunately not matched by better results. The only new item of interest she came upon was that affinities were sometimes referred to as "egotistical superposition" in magical science.

Another lead … but nothing she could use directly.

Another day's useless energy spent.

Thus, the other Hermione bubbled very close to the surface that evening, nearer than the public Hermione had any reason to suspect. The "Search Party," as her friends had started calling themselves, had finished their evening meal after returning from the Death Eater trial. It was that sliver of the day that they allowed themselves a respite from their efforts - everyone but Hermione.

Neville and Ginny were talking softly and listening to music from Ginny's wireless. Ron was sprawled in a chair on the opposite side of the room, alternately glowering at Neville and experimenting with Quidditch strategies on a charmed parchment. As he tended to do, Dennis had vanished behind the pages of yet another Muggle business newspaper; this one something called the Wall Street Journal. Luna was staring out the window, watching the gathering twilight.

Hermione, with Colin's help, was amassing yet another of her endless lists - this time of known facts, suspected facts, and questions. She dictated them to Colin, who typed them into the D.A. communication system. Whilst the number of facts and suspected facts had grown considerably since they had started their mission, their progress was not nearly enough. The number of unanswered questions remained distressingly high. It was topped as always by the toughest nut of all. "How to use the curse affinity to get through to Harry?"

That question had not budged from atop the list since day one, mocking her. Hermione knew she was running out of time. They had been at this for almost two weeks, and she felt no closer to the answer than when they had all started. Nonetheless, she kept pushing, organising, and reorganising - grasping for some new insight - anything.

If she asked herself, she would have to admit that she did not know what else to do. But Hermione did not ask herself such questions.

"…now we know that the curse, whatever it is called, has been converted to focus on individual, pre-existing affinities. That's a fact. Put that there…. Now we don't know when, or by whom, but it's a valid guess that…"

Hermione had always loved music. But to maintain her single minded focus, she had let music fall by the wayside, not even practicing her violin - much less listening to the Wireless. When it came, the straw that broke the Aethonon's back took the form of a song. She did not hear the introduction for the new song on WWN…. She did not see Ginny jerk herself straight to attention, or notice Ron toss his Dementor action figure at Neville….

"…I expect that at least one place the spell has been tried will be Oriental, since the Dark Fire of…"

"Goodbye Gryffindor

Seems we never knew you at all…"

Hermione abruptly fell silent. She recognised the Elton John melody immediately. It had been one of her Muggle favorites. However, somebody had covered it and changed the lyrics….

"…You had to challenge Voldemort

Whilst those around you crawled

Death Eaters they hounded you

And they killed you with a plane.…"

`Oh my stars,' she thought, `they've made it a eulogy to Harry. They're assuming he's dead….'

"…You have been The Boy Who Lived

Now we'll have to change your name.…"

Hermione's breathing went fast and shallow. Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel the pulses behind her eyes. Her skin turned the pale grey-yellow colour of cheap parchment. She knew what was coming, and she did not think she could handle it emotionally. "Colin, I have to go … right now." She stood up and took a step towards her room. In her haste, she caught the chair leg with her right foot, falling heavily to her knees.

"…And it seems to me you lived your life

Like a candle in the wind

Never knowing who to cling to

When the rain set in…."

"Hermione … what the…?"

"Are you alright?"

`Yes…. No…. I'm having a waking nightmare … a panic attack,' she thought, but she gave no audible answer. The pain was bursting within her like one of the Twins' pyrotechnics. She had had no premonition - now she felt she was walking a fraying tightrope with no net. Hermione tried to right herself, but stepped on her robes, sending herself sprawling forwards again.

"…I wish you had known how I feel

Before they had you killed

Your candle burned out long before

Your legend ever will…."

Everyone was watching her now…. Calling to her…. Asking her what was wrong…. She felt burning hot and icy cold at the same time. Her breathing was constricted. She gasped for air - it felt like someone was throttling her. But there was nobody there … nobody at all….

Taking the only course open to her, Hermione fled. Half running, half stumbling she lurched across the room.

"…Loneliness was tough

The cupboard under the stairs

When you became a superstar

That pain was always there…."

"Barking, that one. It's just a song…."

"Ron, I can't believe you…!" Ginny's screech was barely audible over the roar in Hermione's ears.

She was determined not to lose it entirely in front of her friends. Her fingers felt gigantic as she fought to make them respond to her commands. She seized the doorknob, struggled with it, and finally wrenched the door open. Hermione launched herself into her room, and managed to slam the door loudly behind her. Dizzy with despair, she collapsed on her bed by the oriel window…. Invisible weights of anguish and despondency crushed her chest. If this was how a heart attack felt, she welcomed it. Anything … anything was better than living with the consequences….

The dam broke - the façade shattered, and weeks of fear, guilt, and worry spilt forth unchecked. She cried like she never had in her life. It was too late…. She was going to lose him…. Harry's candle would be blown out…. She had never told him how she felt…. He never knew he had - has - someone to cling to…. He would die thinking she had rejected him…. Her last words to him….

"…Even when you died

No, they couldn't let you be

The press it had to speculate

Who it was that Harry had gone to see…."

Chaos ruled in the suite's common area. Neville had charged Ron and rather ineffectually tried to slug him. Now those two were rolling on the floor, arms and legs flailing madly, trying to do one another damage. Ginny was in the thick of it, dodging their limbs and trying to prize Neville off so she could hex her obnoxious older brother before he hurt her boyfriend. Colin was trying to collect all of the pieces of parchment that Hermione's sudden departure had had sent flying.

Luna's voice rang out. "Silencio!"

"That's enough. All of you. Whilst we're out here behaving like children, our leader - check that, our friend - is in there, crying her eyes out. If everything we've been working on since Harry disappeared is not going to be for naught, we need her telling us what to do. That's right…. Only she can direct us, and we have to help her. Somebody's got to go in there and try to pull her back together. Since none of you lot seems inclined to make the attempt, I nominate myself."

Without even bothering to end the silencing spell, Luna slid to Hermione's door, knocked softly and let herself in.

Hermione was a hideous mess. Curled up on the bed, she had her face jammed into the bedclothes. She was not sobbing so much as she was screaming - only her screams were muffled. She had stuffed a corner of the duvet in her mouth. Her hands clutched roughly at her own wild hair. Her fingers held clumps of it that she had torn out by the roots. Rocking slowly back and forth, the unseeing girl seemed unaware that Luna had even entered the room.

"Hermione, I'm here for you. I know what you're going through…."

"Just get out!" Hermione wailed through the duvet. "You have no idea what I'm going through!! None of you do!!"

"My father died a month ago to save me from decapitation by Death Eaters. I think I do…."

"Died….?" The word began with a screech, but ended with a moan. Hermione could no longer avoid contemplating her own personal terra incognita - within which there be monsters. The spectre of death had lurked Boggart-like in the shadows ever since Harry was taken, becoming all the harder to ignore with the passage of time. The song had forced her to contemplate the unthinkable, that she could well lose Harry forever.

Luna's words thus were hardly any consolation. "That's … what's going to happen to Harry now…. I've failed. At least your father knew how you felt about him. I never…."

"You're hyperventilating," Luna commented calmly.

"Am not!" Hermione choked out. "If I'm lucky, I'm dying. Go away!"

"Oh yes you are," Luna said calmly, even clinically. "Exaggerated respiratory response, wheezing, tremors, pallid skin, blank eyes, head kept below your chest level. I did it quite a bit myself when I was younger - when I thought about my mother."

Luna expertly conjured a paper bag from thin air. "Breathe into this whilst watching it expand and contract," she directed. "It will reestablish a normal respiratory pattern."

Hermione knew that. She pulled her head out of the cushions, spat out the duvet, and meekly complied.

Luna was taken aback. She had known that Hermione was under extreme stress from Harry's disappearance. They all were, but the girl had, more than any of the rest of them, kept it bottled up strictly inside. Luna had some suspicions what Hermione had to be thinking, but she never talked about it to anyone. Ginny had told Luna about Hermione's revelatory testimony at the Black trial.

"Your mother knew how you felt about her, too," Hermione blubbered. "I'll never have that to reassure me. He'll never know!"

"Yes I did have that," she replied, "and I know how you feel about Harry. Something happened. Something bad. You need to talk about it before … well, you've already exploded, I guess. But it will paralyse you. If not for your sake, do it for Harry's. There's not much time…."

"Get out," replied Hermione.

"I'm afraid I can't do that. This is too important."

"GET OUT!" Hermione screamed.

"You'll have to hex me," Luna answered firmly. "We need you back, and you can't go forward whilst in this condition."

Enraged, Hermione flicked her wand into her hand, but got no further. Luna made no move to protect herself. Despite her threat, Hermione was truly in no condition to hex anyone. The point of her wand started to tremble, as her first her resolution, and then her anger, ebbed away….

Hermione dropped her wand harmlessly on the bed. She drew her legs tightly to her chest, curled up whilst facing away from Luna, and started sobbing again, although less violently. Luna approached the desolate girl, put her arms around her, and started humming softly.

A wave of solace swept through Hermione. She had been ignoring Luna until then. "What the…. Luna, what did you just do?"

"Empathy," the Ravenclaw replied softly. "It's how I deal with my own sorrows … my own emotional issues. I couldn't have gotten through years of being called `Loony' and worse without it. I didn't know if it would work with you. I've never tried it on another person before."

Hermione was still half in shock, disbelieving Luna's unusual power. She silently stared at the Ravenclaw.

"It still doesn't change that you need to talk about what happened before it consumes you," Luna said.

"It's … so hard…. It's so terrible…."

Progress. "Try me," Luna suggested, "I can take a lot." Softly she cast an Imperturbable Charm on the room.

Hermione looked like she was choking. "I-I-I ... drove him away…. The last words I ever spoke to him were that … I … I … I didn't want to see him anymore…."

With that a second dam broke within Hermione, and the whole sordid tale - her innermost wreckage, all the poisonous bile - spilt out. Her increasing inability to cope with Harry's emotions…. Harry's frantic approach to her with the pornographic pictures…. The weird story about Cho/Liko…. Harry grabbing her arm till it hurt…. Her slapping him…. Telling him she did not want to see him again…. The strange response she felt through their affinity…. What she felt during his final date with Eliza…. How she had proved that Harry had told the truth after all….

Over the next half an hour of talk, interspersed with timeouts for tears, the enormity of Hermione's emotional burden was revealed.

As the Gryffindor talked, the Ravenclaw listened. Luna had suspected all along that Hermione was labouring under the weight of guilt, but the extent of the baggage, and how closely it related to Harry's abduction, surprised even her. She now appreciated the supreme act of will that Hermione's organisation of everything represented.

Hermione continued to vent. "When … when I heard that song … I couldn't take it any longer. He did…. He should have known … that he did have someone - someone he could cling to…. He wasn't all alone. He hasn't been for years…. But I messed it all up so horribly…. I'm afraid he'll die never knowing. He'll die alone … and I'll have to live alone, knowing what I did."

Finally, Luna interrupted her flow of melancholy. "Hermione, he's not going to die, not if there's anything we can do about it. We have to keep pushing. If necessary, we can go back to the Headmaster…."

"NO!" Hermione blurted. "Nobody is to know about this. I will not have Harry's memory sullied in any way. I will carry it with me to the grave if necessary. You, you can't tell anyone about this. Especially Ron. I don't think he could handle what I think I know about his girlfriend. He's so taken by her. I mean it, Luna, I trust you - but I know some Obliviation."

"Not a soul," Luna promised. "We can worry about that later. What's important now is that we redouble our efforts to reach Harry. There is no way in this world or the next that we can let him go under these - or any - circumstances."

* * * *

Hermione was groggy when she awoke the next morning after another 30-hour day. She had recovered well enough from her emotional train wreck of the previous evening. Talking it out had been more therapeutic than she had any reason to hope for….

Ron's apology had been quite expected, and she thought equally sincere. He never really meant that kind of thing…. Those remarks … just sort of … happened…. Ron was, well, Ron….

She had not expected any apology from Ginny - let alone the tearful confession she had made to everyone, even Neville.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry," the redhead wailed. "I had no idea that they would do this with what I wrote!"

All Ginny's friends stared at her gape-mouthed, uncertain of what she was talking about.

Her boyfriend articulated the question they were all thinking. "Er … Gin, what do you mean about what you wrote?"

Ginny answered, but remained more focussed on apologising to Hermione. "I mean, that blasted song that broke you up, Hermione. I'm sorry, but I wrote the words for that…."

Hermione was nonplussed, "You? When?"

"It was at the Burrow my first day back, after the match and all," Ginny explained. "I thought Harry was dead. We all did then. I'm sorry Neville, but I have this soft spot for Harry, and I guess I always will - even though he can be such a prat."

"That's all right, luv," Neville answered softly. "I can't blame you actually…."

"You're such a dear," Ginny cooed back, as she pecked him on the cheek, earning a grimace from Ron. "You see, when everyone presumed him dead, WWN and Teen Witches' Weekly had a contest for people to express their thoughts about the disappearance - Harry's life, and all. And I wrote these lyrics to the Muggle song."

"I have to admit, they were quite appropriate … and quite moving," Hermione responded softly. "You saw how they moved me."

"I'm sorry about that, but you're probably right," Ginny answered. "That's what everyone seems to think. Teen Witches' Weekly sure did when I sent them the lyrics. I won their little contest and received 500 Galleons for my trouble. Unfortunately, I didn't realise that my entry was also some kind of release of … of … what do you call it?"

"Copyright?" Dennis offered.

"Yeah, I think that's it," Ginny sighed. "Anyway, either the magazine or the station arranged for an Elton John sound-alike to cut a recording, and over the last few days it's become something of a cult classic, with all the airtime it's been getting. And I even received post from John himself…."

"You what?" Hermione gasped. "Really? Did he actually sign it?"

"He did, but it was very indirect," Ginny explained. "It was addressed only `To the artist….' It must have passed through at least two sets of solicitors. I think TWW had to negotiate something with John."

"Don't throw it out; it could be worth something," Hermione told the girl. "I know. I collect signatures myself."

Ginny's face brightened considerably. "Would you like it?" she asked. "It's the least I could do after causing you all that grief. It's quite short, though. He only wrote that he liked it, and how it made him see that his song could be a powerful eulogy. Funny, that's what I always thought it was - although quite after the fact…."

Hermione smiled warmly at the girl. "Yes, if you're willing. I think I'd like the letter for my collection. He is one of my favourite Muggle artists."

"Mine, too."

Ginny's unusual revelation unfortunately was the only one. Hermione's nightly research had been more of the same old, same old - interesting leads snuffed out by another missing book. This morning, she intended to complain to Madam Pince again, and see if any of her requested interlibrary loans had come through.

All that changed after her chartreuse sphere came into view, blinking like she had never seen it. There was an urgent message from the Headmaster. She was to meet him - and unstated visitors - at once in the Ceremonial Library. Hermione threw on some clothes, used a couple of spells to tame her hair enough to be presentable, and dashed off.

She encountered the Headmaster, who looked somewhat perplexed, at the door to the library.

"The Wizengamot acted last night. Sirius' name has been cleared. As a consequence, you have some callers this morning," Dumbledore explained to her.

"That's not a surprise, I gather. Who is it, and what is it all about?" Hermione asked.

"You have met two of them, Alastor, and Mister Howe. There are also two goblins, whose names are Klamdok and Yastrop. Klamdok is what we would call the Managing Director of Gringotts bank. Yastrop is the chamberlain to Ragnok, king of the Goblin Nation."

She was to meet with Harry's new guardian and his personal solicitor, in addition to two extremely highly ranked goblins. "What is this about?" she repeated. "Is there news … about Harry?"

"There are no new developments concerning Mister Potter - that much I know. As for your visitors, I have not been told why they wish to meet with you," Dumbledore answered as best he could. "From the timing, it probably has to do with the Black inheritance. Mister Potter is a goblin prince of the blood, you know."

"I've been told," she responded evenly.

"You are somewhat underdressed for the occasion," Dumbledore continued. "Would you allow me to make you more presentable?"

"Very well," she agreed glumly - not looking forward to this meeting.

Dumbledore waved his wand in a couple of complicated patterns, and Hermione found her hair cleaned, dried, and pulled back neatly. Her nondescript work robe was Transfigured into a set of cleaned and pressed Hogwarts school robes covering a prim pastel orange blouse and a dark brown pantsuit outfit.

Warily, she entered the Ceremonial Library, holding the door for Dumbledore.

"I shall not be attending," the Headmaster informed her. "I have not been invited."

As Hermione entered the two wizards and two goblins rose as one. Mr. Howe, acting as spokesman for the group, bade her to join them. To her surprise she was asked to sit in a large chair facing the four of them. It was if she were giving an audience to them, rather than the other way around.

"I suppose you're wondering why we are here today," Howe started.

"The thought has crossed my mind, yes," Hermione replied to that rather lame beginning. Something big was transpiring, and she wished they would get to the point. "Dumbledore told me that the Wizengamot has cleared Sirius Black."

Howe continued, uncharacteristically a bit flustered. "Yes, the Wizengamot, by a vote of 27-7 with a number of abstentions resolved that Mister Black was indeed innocent of the crimes for which he was sentenced to Azkaban. The Ministry's records have been expunged. A public apology was published in today's Prophet. I assume you know what that means to the disposition of the Black estate?"

The inevitable had come to pass. Harry was rich beyond his imagination and her fears; only he was no longer present to receive news of it himself. Why her? She sighed, but said nothing.

The silence was unnerving to her audience. Both Moody and Howe started to fidget, plainly uncomfortable. The goblins waited for the humans to say or do something.

Finally, Hermione took pity. "Why are you telling me this?" she asked.

Howe seemed unsettled by what seemed to be either Hermione's ignorance or maybe just her disinterest. "You're a triple first, Miss Granger, the first non-Ravenclaw to earn that distinction since Minerva McGonagall. I would think you had some idea."

"I'm sorry, but I have more important things on my mind right now than to trouble myself with Harry's Galleons," Hermione responded resignedly. "I'm afraid I've been knocked from that high horse. Don't beat about the bubotuber, please. Will you kindly tell me what you have to tell me?"

Blackie Howe had not been a successful solicitor for more than a quarter century for nothing. He executed an attitude change on a Sickle. He needed to stay on the good side of this witch.

"Well, except for a life estate in Grimmauld Place that Mister Black - that is, Sirius - bequeathed to Mister Lupin, Mister Potter is the sole heir to what I believe is the largest wizard estate in Britain. But there's more to it than that…."

"More to it?" Hermione protested. "How much more can anyone have…? How much more can anyone take?"

"No, it's not at all like that," Howe corrected. "Mister Potter has been my client. In that capacity I advised him to look after his own testamentary interests, to ensure that his own affairs would never become as entangled in litigation as those of the Blacks. He did listen to my advice to some extent, although he decided to take matters into his own hands a bit more than I would have…."

Through all this Mad-Eye Moody had listened with growing impatience. Finally he broke into the lawyer's overly loquacious explanation.

"What I think he's trying ta say," Moody addressed Hermione, "is that Harry wrote his own will. Yer the named executrix, as well as the major beneficiary."

Instantly Hermione's hand flew to her gaping mouth. "Oh my…." She responded. An anguished look flashed across her face. To the absent author, she beseeched, `Harry, how could you?' but aloud she said nothing. She would not betray her true feelings to strangers. Instead she resisted. "I don't want any of that responsibility. Can I decline? All I want is Harry back. I haven't the foggiest idea what to do…."

"I'm afraid to say that Mister Potter thought otherwise," Howe stated the obvious. "His letter to me enclosing his will states quite plainly that he thought you are the only person who could carry out the rather explicit instructions he left behind."

"I'm almost afraid to ask what those might be," Hermione answered, trying to keep from visibly trembling. It did occur to her, however, that her own fortune no longer had much to do with her parents, and everything to do with Harry's fate…. His impulsive act meant that money would no longer be an issue in her future….

Those thoughts vanished as Harry's solicitor replied, "I'm almost as afraid to tell you, but I'm afraid I must…." Reading from some notes jotted on parchment, Howe ticked off the items.

"Mister Potter left substantial bequests to several members of the Weasley family, Mister Lupin, Headmaster Dumbledore, a Neville Longbottom, a Luna Lovegood, a Miss Eliza Brookings, whom I gather was his … er … mistress…."

"Don't use that term," Hermione snapped. "She's on equal footing with the rest of us, and in any event she's dead."

"I'm very sorry," Mr. Howe instinctively apologised. "Anyway, the bulk of Mister Potter's estate - and it is a great bulk indeed - he left to you, with the following instructions." Howe pulled out a document from his valise that Hermione supposed was a copy of Harry's will.

My executrix is to dispose of all that I have inherited from the Black family, other than Sirius' own belongings. Everything Muggle I want sold and the selling price invested in things having nothing to do with slavery. Everything magical, except for the Gringotts shares mentioned later, I want disposed of in the same way - converted to Muggle assets unrelated to slavery. All real estate I want sold off piecemeal to Muggles. If there are any legal obstacles to doing this, I want them overcome in any way possible.

Once all of the Black inheritance is converted to things with no connection to slavery, they belong the prime beneficiary….

"That's you, Hermione."

…free and clear….

"That means with no further restrictions. Harry was using a form book."

…Gringotts shares. The four Black ownership shares in Gringotts bank, together with two additional Gringotts shares that I have inherited from my parents, shall be held in trust, with the executrix serving as sole trustee. Once the trustee certifies that the sale of the Black assets described previously is complete, the trust shall dissolve, and the trustee is to complete a transfer of the six Gringotts shares to the ownership, custody, and control of the Goblin Nation, in perpetuity….

Until that moment, the goblins maintained silence. "Explained thus is our presence," one of them spoke up. "Klamdok, Aksistar of Gringotts, I am. Essentially, goblin side of Gringotts I manage. If to you these responsibilities fall, you I wish to know that my command your wish is."

"What I wish is for you - all of you - to find Harry. That's all that I wish," Hermione demanded. "I can see why Harry did this, but why didn't he tell me?"

"Miss Granger," Howe answered. "You can't blame Mister Potter … er … Harry. If anyone, blame me. Harry only did this very recently. I received the completed will by Muggle post. He wrote it from a form book I provided him. He directed the secrecy. He was going to tell you himself, but evidently never had the chance before he was taken."

Moody broke in. "I only found out this morning. Fer good reason, Howe kept this under his hat until the Wizengamot decision confirmed Harry's rights. Since yeh testified this week under Veritaserum that yeh didn't know about Harry having a will, I decided, as Harry's guardian, that yeh should be informed immediately. Once I learnt the contents, I invited the goblins, since their interests are directly at stake."

"Harry Potter is Impratraxis, a prince of the royal blood," the other goblin, Yastrop, affirmed. "No effort you I assure him to locate will spare we. Thousands of searchers, we have, and once found he is an army we have standing by to deliver him. Find him we will."

Having heard quite enough, Hermione sought to excuse herself. "Thank you … very much. You'll have to excuse me…. I'm feeling a little … overwhelmed … at the moment. Can I … can I leave now?"

"Certainly, Miss Granger," interjected Mad-Eye before anyone else tried to object. "I think yeh know everything yeh need ta know at this time. I just hope yeh understand one thing…. That Harry wouldn't have done this except yer the only person he trusts ta see his wishes through concerning the Black Estate."

"He won't be disappointed," Hermione replied. "But I'm not planning upon having to do any of this for quite some time to come. I'm going to find Harry - alive."

Hermione quickly left, feeling abnormally light-headed. Thankfully, neither Dumbledore nor anyone else was hovering by the entrance. Harry was awake again, and she did not want to deal with anything having to do with his estate. That left her feeling morbid - or worse. She only wanted to commune with him. Nothing else mattered.

She could not have told anyone exactly how she made it back to her room. Her parting shot at the meeting suggested way more confidence than she actually had. In truth, she was feeling trapped. She had no idea how she was going to make good on her brash statement.

The worst did not happen. Harry's emotions, whilst full of depression, did not reach the hideous depths of some of his prior waking moments. Soon he entered that odd, almost blank state - she wondered if he had invented some way of entrancing himself.

She could truthfully say that there was nothing she would not do to save Harry. The trouble was, as always, she did not know what that nothing, or anything, could possibly be. There was simply no movement. She was only marginally closer to her goal since the research project had begun - two furious and frustrating weeks ago. Now that problem was, unfortunately, moving furious and frustrating to potentially fatal. After today, even if the unthinkable happened, there was no escape. Harry had tasked her to clean up the mess. Luna was right. She had to bash on.

But how?

She half stumbled back into her team's combined flat. Dennis had his sphere bring his latest selection of books, Muggle volumes on telepathy mostly, back to the room to read. Colin was the only other person there. He was tinkering with the equipment and taking notes.

"Hermione!" Colin exclaimed upon seeing her, "what's wrong now? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Not a ghost," Hermione responded. "Much worse. I've been given a glimpse of my future if we fail. I-I-I'd have to sell off the whole Black Estate … convert it all to Muggle money and stuff - as if I ever asked for a farthing of it. Harry … made me … made me the … the executrix of his will." She practically had to force the last few words of it out.

"I'll be damned," Dennis remarked. "After all you've done for him, is that all?"

"No, not really," Hermione said in a rather small voice.

"Well I should bloody hope not," Dennis continued. "By all rights he should leave it to you."

"He did," Hermione whispered, not wanting to believe it herself. "I'm at sea. I have no idea what to do."

Dennis got up, moved to the girl, and took her hand. "I can help you," he said. "I need to help you after what you've done for Colin and me. I've been interested in financial things for years, even though my family doesn't have two Galleons to rub together. There has to be a reason the fates gave me that interest. Maybe this is it."

"You'd do that?" Hermione replied. "Thank Merlin. Right now, after everything that's just happened to my family, there's not a single person in the Muggle world I trust."

"I've got some bright ideas, if you don't mind a little risk," Dennis suggested.

"Risk?" Hermione replied archly. "Right now, I love risk. I've been charged with destroying the Black Estate, not preserving it. As long as nobody steals it, I don't mind losing money."

"Have you heard of Y2K?" Dennis asked.

"A little," Hermione said. "That's the thought that all the Muggle computers are going to turn into pumpkins at midnight on the millennium."

"Right," said Dennis. "That's somewhat more than three years away. What it means from a business standpoint is that every computer user in the world has a fixed deadline to upgrade their systems. There's going to be a huge demand for technology until then. In America they've got a whole special stock market for that kind of thing. They're risky stocks, but if you invested in that kind of Muggle assets, and then get out - by that I mean sell - just after the millennium changes you might just make some serious money. At least that's my bright idea. But it's risky. I also might just have given you the stupidest piece of amateur investment advice in history."

Dennis never got a chance to finish, as Luna, followed by Ginny, Ron, and Neville, pounded breathlessly into the room.

"Hermione!!!" Luna yelled, "Oh thank Merlin you're here. I think we've found … if not the answer … then a big piece of it." She was waving an old tome in the air.

"What did you find!?!" Hermione replied excitedly. She seized the good news like a drowning man would a rope. Right now she was sorely in need of it.

"It was horribly misclassified…, "Luna explained, "not even in a medical journal, but in something on magical physicks … an article from the early twenties. That bit you mentioned last night about superposition did the trick. I was searching absolutely everything for the word. It's called `Superpositional Conflict and Coordination of the Phrenic Communication Amongst Identical Magical Essences: A Case Study.' Some wizard named Gondolfo Sherlock wrote it. Oddly, it was published in Ireland even though it involved British witches - one of them actually became Head Girl at Hogwarts."

Luna thrust the volume at Hermione, who needed no prodding. The witch grabbed it, turned to the tagged article and began reading. Everyone else crowded around, craning to read over Hermione's shoulder.

"…This is it. Almost an identical situation…"

"…Two twin sisters, both subjected to a Procrustean Hex … yuck, sounds nasty…"

"…The hex created a one-way affinity from the first hexed to the second. That's what we have here…."

"…In a second attack, one of the sisters is taken away by the same Dark Wizards and held on a remote island…."

"…The remaining sister employed a variant of a potentially deadly curse to strengthen the affinity in the remaining…."

"…focus the Mentanarus Curse on a specific individual using hair from the missing witch's hair brush…."

"…located successfully wandering in a forest, but the other twin sister went insane because her mind was open to everyone around her. It's dangerous all right…."

"…She was committed to St. Mungo's Spell Damage Ward and died a horrible death. Gouged her own eyes out and committed suicide by drinking carbolic acid…."

"Eeeuuuuwww."

Finishing the article, Hermione thumped the book shut. She thought about using her Panic Button, but decided against it - for the moment. Things were still too tentative for that. It was passing strange that an article on this subject had been published solely in the Irish Journal of Magical Physicks, but she had no time to dwell upon such historical trivia.

"I think that settles it, then," Hermione declared. "We start with this Mentanarus Curse, and learn how it can be confined to a single person. We should have an easier time of it because Harry's aura is rather unusual…."

Hermione stopped. Everyone was gawking at her. "Well, what are you looking at?" she huffed.

It was Neville who gave voice to what everyone in the room - excepting Hermione - was thinking.

"Hermione, you … you just read that article same as the rest of us. The person who did the seeking … who did what you would be doing - was driven to insanity and suicide."

Hermione rounded on him, "And your point is?"

"I-I-I have a bad feeling about this, Hermione," Neville continued. "As much as I want to find Harry, I'm not willing to lose you both."

"Er … I agree with Neville, Hermione," Ron added hesitantly, whilst wringing his hands. "Harry is my best mate in the world. I'd do this myself - but I don't have the affinity…. It's just … there comes a time when you can't throw any more good money after bad, especially since even if you do find him, how do we get him back? … Don't do this, Hermione."

Luna, ever the contrarian, spoke up. "I know what Hermione is going through. If this is what she really wants to do, I'll help her."

Ginny weighed in on Luna's side, as did Dennis. Colin was genuinely undecided. After another ten minutes of largely fruitless philosophical palaver, Hermione ended it with a declaration - and a proposal.

"All right, all right. I'm willing to take this risk, and since I have the most at stake, ultimately it's going to be my call. But here's my decision. We'll work out this spell as best we can, and when we get as far as we can take things by the time the term starts next Tuesday, I'll go to Dumbledore. If he has a better idea, then fine. If not, then I have to insist upon taking this risk. I know I could be driven insane, but if I don't take every possible step to find Harry, and the worst happens - I wouldn't be able to live with myself anyway. So insanity might be a blessing. With Dumbledore's help, we should stand a better chance of success than the rather rudimentary spell casting described in the article. Can you go along with me on this?"

By the time she ended her little speech, Hermione's eyes flashed so much determination that nobody even considered raising more objections. If Hermione were willing to put the finest intellect Hogwarts had seen in decades on the line for Harry, who were they to deny her that right? She was their leader in this, and ultimately they had to let her lead.

* * * *

It was 5:30 in the morning. Through the night - since ten the previous evening - Hermione had been hard at work researching in the Restricted Section. She had made considerable progress on understanding the Mentanarus Curse, but still she was in a right strop. Although she had located the incantation in two different books on the Dark Arts, the wording differed in several respects. She did not know which was correct, or if both worked. Worse, she still lacked the precise instructions, including wand movements, for invoking the curse.

In some ways, she was even more frustrated than before. Before, she had harboured the not-so-secret fear that the group's exercise might, in the end, amount to so much trainspotting. When she finally began to make real progress, the additional roadblocks she encountered were all the more infuriating. The information was out there somewhere. Hermione was sure of it.

She had seen two promising references to a book, Mind-Bending Curses, by Omertà Youssoupov. Apparently, the rogue Russian wizard Rasputin had used this book to cast the Mentanarus successfully in the early years of the century. Rasputin had used it to gain access to the minds of a number of prominent Russian Muggles, including several members of the Imperial Family. It had not ended well.

The descriptions of the Mentanarus Curse in these secondary sources were maddeningly vague, and again lacked any discussion of wand movement. That was as far as Hermione was able go. Her search for Youssoupov's original work was once again stymied by "LOSS" written in large letters on the card catalogue entry. Hermione was on the verge of Transfiguring Madam Pince into a pince-nez after discovering that.

"How many books has this bloody library lost over the years?" she grumbled to nobody in particular.

Always the stickler for detail, Hermione noted a number of minor inconsistencies in how books were shelved in the Restricted Section during her latest research. Dutifully, she jotted them down on a piece of parchment, which she intended to leave for Madam Pince (she was more useful than spectacles, Hermione had decided) as she was leaving. Fatigue was starting to dull her senses. The note she tossed onto the librarian's desk knocked another stray bit of parchment to the floor.

Berating her own clumsiness, she put down her copious notes, muttered "Accio," and the offending paper fragment flew to her hand. Her muttering stopped abruptly as she read the short request, which was in Albus Dumbledore's loopy handwriting.

My Dear Madam Pince:

Could you be so kind as to retrieve for me The Dark Magic of East Asia Over the Centuries? There's no extraordinary urgency, tomorrow morning will be fine. I believe it's being kept in Library Off-Site Storage.

Albus

Library Off-Site Storage = LOSS.

Her blood ran cold. `That hypocritical, lying, old SOB,' she thought. `Everything he said … just five kilos of troll dung in a two-kilo bag….'

She was ready to spit nails. Hermione could not recall when she had last been so angry - certainly not when she hit Harry (that had been an act of passion) - maybe when she punched Malfoy back in Third Year - maybe not even then. She smelled smoke, and looked down. The quills in Madam Pince's quill holder were shriveling up and turning brown. Abruptly she calmed herself down … somewhat.

Revenge is a dish best served cold - and Harry is more important.

Still she could not stop muttering. "Of all the things…. The bloody, inconceivable bastards…. Lower than screwt droppings. They want me to fail. They're so damn concerned that I might do something rash, that they would risk Harry's safety."

Then she did something quite rash. Storming out of the library, Hermione made not for the guest quarters but rather for the Gryffindor Common Room. Knowing that she did not have a great deal of time before the house-elves once again detected her presence, she rushed into the Sixth Year dormitory. Harry's trunk remained exactly as she had left it. Using the process she had invented earlier, she opened his trunk, removed the Marauder's Map and one of the Invisibility Cloaks, and repacked the trunk carefully.

She encountered Dobby just as she was leaving, and gave him the not altogether false excuse that she had needed to borrow something else of Harry's in pursuit of her quest.

Back in her room, she continued to seethe with anger at Dumbledore's betrayal of the entire enterprise upon which she had invested two critical weeks - weeks whilst Death Eaters were keeping Harry in bondage - weeks when Harry could have been killed at any moment.

There was very little chance she would forgive the Headmaster's latest deception any time soon. Once Harry was successfully freed, maybe she would become reconciled in time. Otherwise…. Perversely, Hermione took comfort in, of all things, the Black inheritance. If worse came to worse, she would much rather not be dependent upon Dumbledore's charity. Right now, even slave money seemed preferable to any sort of reliance on the duplicitous Headmaster, were the worst to happen.

But she was not about to let the worst happen. And in the game that was afoot, she now held the advantage. She knew - but Dumbledore did not know she knew.

Her eyes bleary from lack of sleep, and her mind consumed with her seemingly impotent rage, Hermione noticed the picture from the Ashrak featuring Harry and Dumbledore flanking the limousine. Grimly, she pointed her wand at it. Her aim was true, and what had been Dumbledore's face was now only a burned out, black blot.

With that small measure of satisfaction, she set her Time-Turner for 5:30 rather than six in the morning. She was determined to catch them in the act. Two could play at this game.

**********************

Lyrics to Goodbye Gryffindor (4 verses)

Original Lyrics to "Candle in the Wind" by Bernie Taupin, music by Elton John. © 1973 Dick James Music Limited.

Goodbye Gryffindor,

Seems we never knew you at all….

You had to challenge Voldemort

Whilst those around you crawled.

Death Eaters they hounded you,

And they killed you with a plane.

You have been The Boy Who Lived,

Now we'll have to change your name.

--

And it seems to me you lived your life

Like a candle in the wind.

Never knowing who to cling to

When the rain set in.

I wish you had known how I feel,

Before they had you killed.

Your candle burned out long before

Your legend ever will.

--

Loneliness was tough.

The cupboard under the stairs….

When you became a superstar,

That pain was always there.

Even when you died,

No, they couldn't let you be.

The press it had to speculate

Who it was that Harry had gone to see.

--

And it seems to me you lived your life

Like a candle in the wind.

Never knowing who to cling to

When the rain set in.

And I wish I could have said thank you,

Before they had you killed.

Your candle burned out long before

Your legend ever will.

--

Goodbye Gryffindor,

Though I never knew you at all.

You had the strength to tell the truth,

Whilst those around you crawled.

Goodbye Gryffindor,

From all of those who just admired you as you passed.

You were more than just heroic.

More than Merlin's Order, Second Class.

--

And it seems to me you lived your life

Like a candle in the wind.

Never knowing who to cling to

When the rain set in.

I wish you had known how I feel,

But you were just a kid.

Your candle burned out long before

Your legend never did.

--

Goodbye Gryffindor,

Sorry this is how your story ends.

You belong to the ages now.

It's hard to comprehend.

Dark magic orphaned you at birth,

And left you scarred for life.

You had to grow up far too fast,

And never escaped the strife.

--

And it seems to me you lived your life

Like a candle in the wind.

Never knowing who to cling to

When the rain set in.

And I wish I could have said thank you,

Before they had you killed.

Your candle burned out long before

Your legend ever will.

* * * *

Author's notes: The retroactive statute would be unconstitutional in the US as an ex post facto law

The new law imposes a version of the felony-murder concept

The community blood lust concept comes from a book I read on the Leopold/Loeb murder trial in Chicago

An automatic right of appeal is common in US capital punishment cases

At this time, Texas alone accounted for over half of all US executions. The governor referred to as killing as many people as Voldemort is Bush

Hermione received a taste of what Harry could do when sufficiently provoked

Peeves chant is foreshadowing, in two different ways

Mannock's presence at Hogwarts means something as well

A circus tent floating on air seemed like a proper trial venue

Unlike the US, crowd whistling is a taunt in Europe

The crowd behavior is based on the Medwick incident in the 1934 World Series

This is the correct name for English prosecutors' office

With socialised medicine, the role of formularies in selecting the choice of prescription medical products is heightened. What is described is fairly run-of-the-mill corruption

It should be obvious where the missing Grunnings data is

Dentists and drills go together. I'm surprised I haven't read this plot twist before

Dentistry alone could not produce the money that the Grangers have; the additional source is intellectual property

I understand these to be Maggie Thatcher's proper titles

Diego Garcia, BIOT is a real location

Hermione is right to suspect that her father had set the inexplicable fire in the surgery

Potemkin was a high Russian official who constructed fake, prosperous villages to deceive the Czar he served (Catherine the Great) about conditions in the country

A jumbotron is a very large television screen

The "useless energies spent" is a quote from the Moody Blues

"Goodbye Gryffindor" is a rewrite of "Goodbye Norma Jean," by Elton John. The complete revised lyrics are in the supplement to Chapter 32

"Terra incognita" is what unknown parts of the world were called on old maps. Such areas were also marked with the phrase "here there be monsters"

The paper bag approach is common first aid for hyperventilation

Ginny's contact with TWW will come in handy (for her) later

Ginny's role in Elton John realizing that his song can serve a a eulogy is sort of a Forrest Gump moment

A "triple first" is a school leader in three different academic areas. It is quite rare

Dennis' financial advice will turn out to be quite remunerative for Hermione

In Greek mythology, Procrustus cut short or stretched out people to fit his bed

"Trainspotting" is a reference to an involved, if useless, activity

Omertà is an Italian word referring to the Mafia code of silence. Youssoupov is the name of Rasputin's killer

"LOSS" stands for "Library Off-Site Storage"

56

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