A/N: I do not own any character references by JK Rowling in the Harry Potter series or agree with her comments. This story is a product of my pure imagination. I do not profit from this and will not pay for any commissions for art about this story.
What if I fall?
I won't let you fall
What if I cry?
I'll never make you cry
And if I get scared?
I'll hold you tighter
When they're tryna get to you, baby I'll be the fighter
~ The Fighter by Keith Urban and Carrie Underwood
~*~ 1st August 1997 ~*~
It was the night of Bill and Fleur's wedding, and the atmosphere was simply magical as Hermione found herself under the tent, where the music had just switched to a slower beat. She swayed with Ron beneath the enchanted lights that glittered above their heads. The Burrow had been transformed into a fairytale setting for their special day.
Ron's hand clumsily spun her, nearly losing hold of her as she steadied herself.
Hermione frowned as she watched Mr. Lovegood arguing with Viktor across the way. "I wonder what that is all about."
"Krum looks angry. He always looks angry, of course," Ron stated.
Hermione hit his shoulder. "That was rude."
"Do you think they'll get back together when all this is over?" Ron asked, not even hiding how he was watching Ginny.
Hermione glanced over at Harry as he too was looking at Ginny, as he talked to Ron's Aunt Muriel. She shrugged as she tightened her hand on his shoulder. "They never had a real relationship, Ron. A few snogs by the lake are not the same as a real relationship."
Ron smirked. "Oh, wise one, then tell me, what IS a real relationship?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Trust, respect, shared interest, support… you know, a partnership." She swallowed hard, thinking about her parents, "That's what made my parents work. They had all that."
Ron looked away from Harry, "Well, Harry and Ginny both like Quidditch. That's something. It's why you and Krum didn't work, right? You're not a fan."
Hermione stepped back, frowning. "I was at every one of Harry's matches, wasn't I?" She stated, "I may not love the game, but I show up. I support my friends. Get some Butterbeers. I'm going to find Harry."
She turned before he could respond, her heels biting into her feet as she walked toward the refreshment table. Her eyes scanned the crowd searching for Harry, who had left where he had been sitting.
There he was sitting alone near the edge of the marquee, the moonlight on him as the curtains fluttered near him. He looked lost in thought. Hermione crossed the floor and sat beside him, smoothing her dress as she settled next to him.
"I simply can't dance anymore," she panted, slipping off one of her shoes and rubbing the sole of her foot. "Ron's gone looking to find more butterbeers. It's a bit odd, I've just seen Viktor storming away from Luna's father, it looked like they'd been arguing —" She dropped her voice, staring at him. "Harry, are you okay?"
Harry did not get to respond because, as she looked at him, a large glowing silver lynx landed in the middle of the dance floor. Hermione quickly slid her shoe on and grabbed onto Harry's arm. The Patronus's mouth opened wide, and it spoke in the loud, deep, slow voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt. "The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."
Hermione jumped to her feet next to Harry as she pulled her wand out of her pocket in her dress. Feeling inside the other pocket, she sighed in relief when she felt her bag was still tucked into her dress. It was an eerie quiet for about three seconds, then somebody screamed, starting the chaos.
Hermione and Harry fought their way through the panicking crowd as guests panicked, running in all directions. Some disapparated in front of them. The protective enchantments around the Burrow had broken.
Hermione, in the chaos, couldn't see Ron.
"Ron!" Hermione cried. "Ron, where are you?"
Harry grabbed her hand as they pushed their way across the dance floor. Stopping with a gasp, she pulled him behind her as cloaked and masked figures appeared in the crowd.
Her heart rate skyrocketed as she looked around desperately for Ron. "Ron! Ron!" Hermione called, half sobbing as she and Harry were knocked around by terrified guests.
Ducking as a streak of light whizzed over their heads, Hermione looked up, and then Ron was there. He caught hold of Hermione's free arm. The moment she felt him, she closed her eyes, thinking of the first location that came to her mind, Tottenham Court Road, a place where her Mum and Dad had last taken her. She made sure both boys were holding onto her, and she disapparated.
Being squeezed through space, she could finally breathe again when her feet touched ground.
"Where are we?" said Ron's voice.
"Tottenham Court Road," Hermione told him, trying to catch her breath as she looked around to see if they were safe. "Walk, just walk, we need to find somewhere for you to change."
They half walked, half ran up the wide, dark street thronged with late-night revelers and lined with closed shops, stars twinkling above them. A double-decker bus rumbled by, and a group of merry pub-goers ogled them as they passed; Harry and Ron were still wearing dress robes. Looking entirely out of place in the Muggle world.
Hermione looked around as people stared, trying to find an empty alley, a darkened lot, anything/
"Hermione, we haven't got anything to change into," Ron told her, as a young woman burst into raucous giggles at the sight of him.
"Why didn't I make sure I had the Invisibility Cloak with me?" said Harry, inwardly cursing his own stupidity. "All last year I kept it on me and —"
"It's okay, I've got the Cloak, I've got clothes for both of you," said Hermione hurriedly. "Just try and act naturally until," she saw a side street without a street light, "this will do."
She led them down a side street, then into the shelter of a shadowy alleyway.
"When you say you've got the Cloak, and clothes . . ." said Harry, frowning at her as she opened her beaded handbag and started rummaging inside it.
"Yes, they're here," Hermione told them as she found the compartments for Harry and Ron's things and pulled out a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt and some socks for each of them, throwing them at both of the boys. She opened the locked container and pulled out the Invisibility Cloak.
"How the ruddy hell — ?" Ron asked.
"Undetectable Extension Charm," said Hermione. "Tricky, but I think I've done it okay; anyway, I managed to fit everything we need in here."
Hermione shook her bag, and her eyes fluttered shut as a cascading sound came from within her bag."Oh, damn, that'll be the books," she said, peering into it, "and I had them all stacked by subject. Oh well. . . . Harry, you'd better take the Invisibility Cloak. Ron, hurry up and change. . .."
"When did you do all this?" Harry asked as Ron stripped off his robes.
"I told you at the Burrow, I've had the essentials packed for days, you know, in case we needed to make a quick getaway. I packed your rucksack this morning, Harry, after you changed, and put it in here," Hermione frowned, turning away from the boys as they started to de-robe." I just had a feeling. . . ." she trailed off.
"You're amazing, you are," Ron told her as he came over next to her and handed her his bundled-up robes.
"Thank you," said Hermione, managing a small smile as she pushed the robes into the bag. Glancing behind her, she saw Harry was dressed and looking around. "Please, Harry, get that Cloak on!"
Harry threw the Invisibility Cloak around his shoulders and pulled it up over his head, vanishing from sight.
"The others — everyone at the wedding —" Harry stated from right behind her.
"We can't worry about that now," whispered Hermione. "It's you they're after, Harry, and we'll just put everyone in even more danger by going back."
"She's right," said Ron, "Most of the Order was there, they'll look after everyone."
Hermione looked out onto the side road. "Come on, I think we ought to keep moving," said Hermione.
They moved back up the side street and onto the main road again, where a group of men on the opposite side was singing and weaving across the pavement.
"Just as a matter of interest, why Tottenham Court Road?" Ron asked Hermione.
"I've no idea, it just popped into my head, but I'm sure we're safer out in the Muggle world, it's not where they'll expect us to be," Hermione told him.
"True," said Ron, looking around, "but don't you feel a bit — exposed?"
"Where else is there?" asked Hermione, cringing as the men on the other side of the road started wolf-whistling at her. "We can hardly book rooms at the Leaky Cauldron, can we? And Grimmauld Place is out if Snape can get in there. I suppose we could try my parents' house, though I think there's a chance they might check there," Hermione said as the men across the way continued to whistle and try to get her to come over. "Oh, I wish they'd shut up!"
"All right, darling?" the drunkest of the men on the other pavement was yelling. "Fancy a drink? Ditch ginger and come and have a pint!"
"Let's sit down somewhere," Hermione said hastily as Ron opened his mouth to shout back across the road. "Look, this will do, in here!"
It was a small and shabby all-night café. A light layer of grease lay on all the Formica-topped tables, but it was at least empty.
Ron slid into the booth opposite her, and she knew Harry was next to him when he ran into something invisible.
Hermione kept glancing behind her at the door.
After a minute or two, Ron said, "You know, we're not far from the Leaky Cauldron here, it's only in Charing Cross —"
Hermione turned around, looking at him, "Ron, we can't!"
"Not to stay there, but to find out what's going on!" Ron defended.
"We know what's going on! Voldemort's taken over the Ministry, what else do we need to know?" Hermione hissed.
"Okay, okay, it was just an idea!" Ron said, raising his hands.
The waitress came over and Hermione ordered two cappuccinos, just as a pair of burly workmen entered the café and squeezed into the next booth.
Hermione dropped her voice to a whisper. "I say we find a quiet place to Disapparate and head for the countryside. I have ideas for camping spots. Once we're there, we could send a message to the Order."
"Can you do that talking Patronus thing, then?" asked Ron.
"I've been practicing and I think so," Hermione whispered as the waitress brought over their drinks, "Thank you."
"Well, as long as it doesn't get them into trouble, though they might've been arrested already," Ron said as he took a drink and coughed, "God, that's revolting,"
The waitress had heard; she shot Ron a nasty look as she shuffled off to take the new customers' orders.
"Let's get going, then, I don't want to drink this muck," said Ron. "Hermione, have you got Muggle money to pay for this?"
"Yes, I took out all my Building Society savings before I came to the Burrow. I'll bet all the change is at the bottom," Hermione frowned, reaching into her bag, trying to find her wallet, and gasped as Ron suddenly jumped over the table, pushing Hermione sideways onto her bench and she rolled under it to get a better view.
The tiled wall where Ron's head had just been shattered, as Harry, still invisible, yelled, "Stupefy!"
Sitting up, Hermione saw a blond Death Eater who was hit in the face by a jet of red light. He slumped sideways, unconscious. His companion, unable to see who had cast the spell, fired another at Ron: Shining black ropes flew from his wand-tip and bound Ron head to foot.
The waitress screamed and ran for the door as the still invisible Harry sent another Stunning Spell at the Death Eater with the twisted face who had tied up Ron, but the spell missed, rebounded on the window, and hit the waitress, who collapsed in front of the door.
"Expulso!" bellowed the Death Eater, and a table blew up. With the force of the explosion, Hermione could suddenly see Harry as his cloak slid off his feet.
"Petrificus Totalus!" screamed Hermione, and the Death Eater fell forward like a statue to land with a crunching thud on the mess of broken china, table, and coffee. Hermione crawled out from underneath the bench, shaking bits of glass ashtray out of her hair and trembling all over. "D-diffindo," she said, pointing her wand at Ron, who roared in pain as she slashed open the knee of his jeans, leaving a deep cut. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Ron, my hand's shaking! Diffindo!"
The severed ropes fell away. Ron got to his feet, shaking his arms to regain feeling in them.
Harry picked up his wand and climbed over all the debris to where the large blond Death Eater was sprawled across the bench. "I should've recognized him, he was there the night Dumbledore died," he said. He turned over the darker Death Eater with his foot; the man's eyes moved rapidly between Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
"That's Dolohov," said Ron. "I recognize him from the old wanted posters. I think the big one's Thorfinn Rowle."
Hermione grabbed her chest as she recognized him. He was the man who cursed her in the Ministry.
"Never mind what they're called!" Hermione could feel herself hyperventilating. "How did they find us? What are we going to do?"
"Lock the door," Harry told her, "And Ron, turn out the lights."
Hermione hurried over and locked the door as Ron used the Deluminator to plunge the café into darkness. Hermione could hear the men from earlier, yelling at another girl in the distance making her shiver with discomfort.
"What are we going to do with them?" Ron whispered to Harry through the dark; then, even more quietly, "Kill them? They'd kill us. They had a good go just now."
Hermione shuddered and took a step backward, her back hitting the door.
Harry shook his head. "We just need to wipe their memories," said Harry. "It's better like that, it'll throw them off the scent. If we killed them, it'd be obvious we were here."
"You're the boss," said Ron, sounding relieved. "But I've never done a Memory Charm."
"Nor have I," said Hermione, "but I know the theory after researching for Mum and Dad." She took a deep, calming breath, then pointed her wand at Dolohov's forehead and said, "Obliviate."
At once, Dolohov's eyes became unfocused and dreamy.
"Brilliant!" said Harry, clapping her on the back. "Take care of the other one and the waitress while Ron and I clear up."
"Clear up?" said Ron, looking around at the partly destroyed café. "Why?"
"Don't you think they might wonder what's happened if they wake up and find themselves in a place that looks like it's just been bombed?" Harry asked.
"Oh right, yeah . . ." Ron struggled for a moment before managing to extract his wand from his pocket. "It's no wonder I can't get it out, Hermione, you packed my old jeans, they're tight."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him as she grabbed the waitress under her arms. "Oh, I'm so sorry," hissed Hermione, and as she dragged the waitress out of sight of the windows, "Next time you can stick your wand up your arse."
Once the café was restored to its previous condition, they heaved the Death Eaters back into their booth and propped them up facing each other.
"But how did they find us?" Hermione asked, looking from one inert man to the other. "How did they know where we were?" She turned to Harry. "You… you don't think you've still got your Trace on you, do you, Harry?"
"He can't have," said Ron. "The Trace breaks at seventeen, that's Wizarding law, you can't put it on an adult."
"As far as you know," said Hermione. "What if the Death Eaters have found a way to put it on a seventeen-year-old?"
"But Harry hasn't been near a Death Eater in the last twenty-four hours. Who's supposed to have put a Trace back on him?" Ron asked.
Hermione just shook her head.
Harry swallowed hard, "If I can't use magic, and you can't use magic near me, without us giving away our position —"
"We're not splitting up!" said Hermione, firmly looking at him.
"We need a safe place to hide," said Ron. "Give us time to think things through."
"Grimmauld Place," said Harry.
Hermione gasped. "Don't be silly, Harry, Snape can get in there!"
"Ron's dad said they've put up jinxes against him — and even if they haven't worked," Harry said as Hermione opened her mouth to argue with him."So what? I swear, I'd like nothing better than to meet Snape!"
Hermione looked between the boys, "But…"
"Hermione, where else is there? It's the best chance we've got. Snape's only one Death Eater. If I've still got the Trace on me, we'll have whole crowds of them on us wherever else we go." Harry told them.
Hermione bit her lip, closed her eyes, steeling herself as she unlocked the café door. Ron clicked the Deluminator to release the café's light. Then, on Harry's count of three, they reversed the spells upon their three victims, and before the waitress or either of the Death Eaters could do more than stir sleepily, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had turned on the spot and vanished into the compressing darkness once more.
Hermione opened her eyes, and they were now standing in the middle of a familiar, small, and shabby square.
Tall, dilapidated houses looked down on them from every side. Number twelve was visible to them, for they had been told of its existence by Dumbledore, its Secret-Keeper, and they rushed toward it, checking every few yards that they were not being followed or observed. They raced up the stone steps, and Harry tapped the front door once with his wand. They heard a series of metallic clicks and the clatter of a chain, then the door swung open with a creak, and they hurried over the threshold. As Harry closed the door behind them, the old-fashioned gas lamps sprang into life, casting flickering light along the length of the hallway.
Nothing had changed since they were there last, except that the cleaning progress they had made was gone, as cobwebs now littered the walls.
The only thing that was out of place was the troll's leg umbrella stand, which was lying on its side as if Tonks had just knocked it over again.
"I think somebody's been in here," Hermione whispered, pointing toward it.
"That could've happened as the Order left," Ron murmured back.
"So where are these jinxes they put up against Snape?" Harry asked.
"Maybe they're only activated if he shows up?" suggested Ron.
Yet they remained close together on the doormat, backs against the door, scared to move farther into the house.
"Well, we can't stay here forever," said Harry, and he took a step forward.
"Severus Snape?" Mad-Eye Moody's voice whispered out of the darkness, making all three of them jump back in fright.
"We're not Snape!" croaked Harry.
Cold air settled over Hermione, and her tongue became tied, then released.
Hermione stammered, "That m-must have b-been the T-Tongue-Tying Curse Mad-Eye set up for Snape!"
Gingerly, Harry took another step forward. Something shifted in the shadows at the end of the hall, and before any of them could say another word, a figure had rose up out of the carpet, tall, dust-colored, and terrible: Hermione screamed and so did Mrs. Black, her curtains flying open; the gray figure was gliding toward them, faster and faster, its waist-length hair and beard streaming behind it, its face sunken, fleshless, with empty eye sockets: Horribly familiar, dreadfully altered, it raised a wasted arm, pointing at Harry.
"No!" Harry shouted, and though he had raised his wand, no spell occurred to him. "No! It wasn't us! We didn't kill you —"
Hermione crouched down, covering her head. Suddenly, Ron's hand was on her shoulder, "It's all r-right. . . . It's g-gone. . . ."
Mrs. Black continued to scream. "Mudbloods, filth, stains of dishonor, taint of shame on the house of my fathers —"
"SHUT UP!" Harry bellowed, directing his wand at her, and with a bang and a burst of red sparks, the curtains swung shut again, silencing her.
"That . . . that was . . . ." Hermione whimpered, as Ron helped her to her feet.
"Yeah," said Harry, "but it wasn't really him, was it? Just something to scare Snape."
"Before we go any farther, I think we'd better check," whispered Hermione, and she raised her wand and said, "Homenum revelio."
Nothing happened.
"Well, you've just had a big shock," said Ron kindly. "What was that supposed to do?"
"It did what I meant it to do!" said Hermione rather crossly. "That was a spell to reveal human presence, and there's nobody here except us!"
"And old Dusty," said Ron, glancing at the patch of carpet from which the corpse-figure had risen.
"Let's go up," said Hermione with a frightened look at the same spot, and she led the way up the creaking stairs to the drawing room on the first floor.
Hermione waved her wand to ignite the old gas lamps, then, shivering slightly in the drafty room, she perched on the sofa, her arms wrapped tightly around her.
Ron crossed to the window and moved the heavy velvet curtain aside an inch. "Can't see anyone out there," he reported. "And you'd think, if Harry still had a Trace on him, they'd have followed us here. I know they can't get in the house, but — what's up, Harry?"
Harry cried out as he grabbed his head. Hermione swallowed hard as she watched Harry stumble.
"What did you see?" Ron asked, advancing on Harry. "Did you see him at my place?"
"No, I just felt anger — he's really angry —" Harry stated.
"But that could be at the Burrow," said Ron loudly. "What else? Didn't you see anything? Was he cursing someone?"
"No, I just felt anger — I couldn't tell —" Harry stated.
It was all too much suddenly. The Death Eaters finding them, Harry's scar. Hermione swallowed hard, "Your scar, again? But what's going on? I thought that connection had closed!"
"It did, for a while," muttered Harry. "I — I think it's started opening again whenever he loses control, that's how it used to —"
"But then you've got to close your mind!" said Hermione harshly. "Harry, Dumbledore didn't want you to use that connection, he wanted you to shut it down, that's why you were supposed to use Occlumency! Otherwise Voldemort can plant false images in your mind, remember —"
"Yeah, I do remember, thanks," said Harry.
Hermione sighed as she realized that she had gone too far again. Harry turned away from her, and Ron pretended to examine the tapestry of the Black family tree looming on the wall. Stepping close to him, she almost put her hand on his shoulder when a silver Patronus soared past her into the drawing room, making her scream out as Harry's arm wrapped around her, pulling her behind him.
On the floor in front of them, a weasel solidified, and Mr. Weasley's voice spoke out.
"Family safe, do not reply, we are being watched." The Patronus dissolved into nothingness.
Ron let out a noise between a whimper and a groan and dropped onto the sofa. Hermione sighed in relief as she sat down next to him and gripped his arm. "They're all right, they're all right!" she whispered, and Ron half laughed and hugged her.
"Harry," Ron said over her shoulder, "I —"
"It's not a problem," said Harry. "It's your family, 'course you're worried. I'd feel the same way. I do feel the same way."
Hermione looked between the boys. "I don't want to be on my own. Could we use the sleeping bags I've brought and camp in here tonight?"
"Of course, that's a great idea," Ron told her.
"Bathroom," Harry muttered, and he left the room as fast as he could without running.
Hermione swallowed hard. "Ron, he looked like he was about to get sick. I think it was his scar."
Ron nodded, looking at the empty doorway Harry had just gone through.
Hermione shifted on her feet. "I am going to go check on him."
"No, give him some space. You know how he gets when he gets these… fits," Ron told her as Hermione heard a crash.
"No, I'm going," Hermione told him as she opened her bag and reached in for his toothbrush, making Ron shake his head.
Hermione walked to the bathroom and knocked on the door. "Harry, do you want your toothbrush? I've got it here."
"Yeah, great, thanks," Harry said on the other side of the door. *Rowling, J.K.. Harry Potter: The Complete Collection (1-7) (pp. 3453-3467). Pottermore Publishing. Kindle Edition.
Hermione bit her lip as the door opened, and Harry was pale and clammy. "Oh, Harry. What did you see?"
Harry leaned against the doorframe. "If you think I'm bad, you should see Draco and the other guy that he's punishing."
Hermione sat in the window, staring out at the square as Ron and Harry snored behind her. Her mind wouldn't quiet as she thought of the Weasleys and her parents.
"Hermione?"
Hermione looked over to see Harry looking at her. "Go back to sleep."
Harry got out of his sleeping bag and moved over to her as Ron snored, "What's wrong?"
Hermione laughed through the tears on her face, "It's just so much. I'm worried about the Weasleys, us, and my parents."
Harry leaned against the window. "Are they safe?"
Hermione swiped at her tears, "I don't know. I know they got onto a flight to Sydney, from there… Wendell and Monica Wilkins are on their own. I just wish I knew where they were, but I couldn't look, then it would call attention."
Harry nodded.
"I wish I had my family back," Hermione whispered.
Harry squeezed her hand, "Hey, we're your family. I know that it's not the same."
"No, it does," Hermione sighed as she lay her head back on the window frame, "What is this next year going to hold for us?"
Harry shook his head, "I don't know, but hopefully by then we will be happy with your family, and HE will be gone."
~*~ 2nd August 1997 ~*~
Hermione stretched as she opened her eyes and frowned, taking in her surroundings. Ron was snoring next to her on the sleeping bags, but Harry was nowhere to be found.
Ron's hand was near hers as if he had been reaching for her at night. Sitting up, Hermione looked around, listening for Harry. "Harry?"
"Nightmare again?" Ron mumbled.
"No, he's missing," Hermione said worriedly, "Harry?!"
Ron climbed out of his sleeping bag. "Harry? Are you in the loo?" Ron asked as he walked over to the loo and opened the door to look inside.
Hermione walked over to the kitchen door and looked inside. "He's not in the kitchen either."
Ron frowned, walking over to the cellar door and slowly opening it, "Harry?!"
"I'm going upstairs," Hermione told him as she rushed over to the creaking steps. "Harry? Harry! Harry!"
"I'm here!" he called from upstairs. "What's happened?"
Hermione ran up the stairs and saw the door to Sirius' room open and burst inside.
"We woke up and didn't know where you were!" she said breathlessly, her heart pounding. She turned and shouted over her shoulder, "Ron! I've found him!"
Ron's annoyed voice echoed distantly from several floors below. "Good! Tell him from me he's a git!"
Hermione looked at Harry, "Harry, don't just disappear, please, we were terrified! Why did you come up here anyway?" She gazed around the ransacked room. "What have you been doing?"
"Look what I've just found," Harry said, holding out a letter to her.
Hermione took it and read the neat, beautiful script of the past written by Lily Potter herself. Even though half her thoughts were missing, the love for her son could be felt through the page itself.
When she reached the end of the page, she looked up at him. "Oh, Harry . . ."
Harry swallowed, "And there's this, too." He handed her the torn photograph.
Hermione smiled at the baby zooming in and out of sight on the toy broom. He had been such a cute baby.
"I've been looking for the rest of the letter," Harry said, "but it's not here."
Hermione glanced around, seeing that the room was tossed as if it had been thoroughly searched. "Did you make all this mess, or was some of it done when you got here?"
"Someone had searched before me," said Harry.
Hermione sighed. "I thought so. Every room I looked into on the way up had been disturbed. What were they after, do you think?"
"Information on the Order, if it was Snape." Harry guessed.
Hermione frowned. "But you'd think he'd already have all he needed, I mean, he was in the Order, wasn't he?"
"Well then," said Harry, "what about information on Dumbledore? The second page of this letter, for instance. You know this Bathilda my mum mentions, you know who she is?"
Hermione thought about it. The only Bathilda she had ever heard of was the author. "Who?"
"Bathilda Bagshot, the author of —"
"A History of Magic," said Hermione, looking interested. "So, your parents knew her? She was an incredible, magical historian."
"And she's still alive," said Harry, "and she lives in Godric's Hollow, Ron's Auntie Muriel was talking about her at the wedding. She knew Dumbledore's family, too. Be pretty interesting to talk to, wouldn't she?"
Hermione smiled as she handed the photo and letter back to him. She saw him tuck them away in the pouch around his neck. "I understand why you'd love to talk to her about your mum and dad, and Dumbledore too," said Hermione. "But that wouldn't really help us in our search for the Horcruxes, would it?" Harry did not answer, and she rushed on, "Harry, I know you really want to go to Godric's Hollow, but I'm scared, I'm scared at how easily those Death Eaters found us yesterday. It just makes me feel more than ever that we ought to avoid the place where your parents are buried, I'm sure they'd be expecting you to visit it."
"It's not just that," Harry said, still avoiding looking at her. "Muriel said stuff about Dumbledore at the wedding. I want to know the truth.."
He told Hermione everything that Muriel had told him, and when he had finished, Hermione said, "Of course, I can see why that's upset you, Harry —"
"I'm not upset," he stated, "I'd just like to know whether or not it's true or —"
"Harry, do you really think you'll get the truth from a malicious old woman like Muriel, or from Rita Skeeter? How can you believe them? You knew Dumbledore!" Hermione defended.
"I thought I did," he muttered.
"But you know how much truth there was in everything Rita wrote about you! Doge is right, how can you let these people tarnish your memories of Dumbledore?" Hermione asked, "You knew him better than any of us."
Harry looked away from her, and Hermione sighed.
"Shall we go down to the kitchen?" Hermione suggested after a little pause. "Find something for breakfast?"
"Good idea," Harry said as he followed her out onto the landing.
Hermione walked down the stairs, and Harry didn't follow.
"Hermione, come back up here," Harry said.
Hermione frowned, looking back up the stairs. "What's the matter?"
"R.A.B. I think I've found him," Harry said.
Hermione gasped and rushed back up the stairs, meeting Harry at the landing again. "In your mum's letter? But I didn't see —"
Harry shook his head, pointing at the sign opposite Sirius's door.
Hermione read it, then grabbed onto Harry's arm tightly. "Sirius's brother?" she whispered.
"He was a Death Eater," said Harry, covering her hand on his arm with his own, "Sirius told me about him, he joined up when he was really young and then got cold feet and tried to leave — so they killed him."
"That fits!" gasped Hermione. "If he was a Death Eater he had access to Voldemort, and if he became disenchanted, then he would have wanted to bring Voldemort down!" She released Harry, leaned over the banister, and screamed, "Ron! RON! Get up here, quick!"
Ron appeared, panting, a minute later, his wand ready in his hand.
"What's up? If it's massive spiders again, I want breakfast before I —" He frowned at the sign on Regulus's door, to which Hermione was silently pointing. "What? That was Sirius's brother, wasn't it? Regulus Arcturus . . . Regulus . . . R.A.B.! The locket — you don't reckon — ?"
"Let's find out," said Harry. He pushed the door, and it was locked.
Hermione pointed her wand at the handle and said, "Alohomora."
There was a click, and the door swung open. They moved over the threshold together, gazing around. Regulus's bedroom was slightly smaller than Sirius's, though it had the same sense of former grandeur. Whereas Sirius had sought to advertise his difference from the rest of the family, Regulus had striven to emphasize the opposite. The Slytherin colors of emerald and silver were everywhere, draping the bed, the walls, and the windows. The Black family crest was painstakingly painted over the bed, along with its motto, TOUJOURS PUR. Beneath this was a collection of yellow newspaper cuttings, all stuck together to make a ragged collage. Hermione crossed the room to examine them.
"They're all about Voldemort," she said. "Regulus seems to have been a fan for a few years before he joined the Death Eaters."
A little puff of dust rose from the bedcovers as she sat down to read the clippings, making her cough and wave her hand in front of her face.
"He played Seeker," said Harry.
"What?" said Hermione, reading Voldemort's press clippings. Glancing up, she saw Harry looking at pictures on the wall.
"He's sitting in the middle of the front row, that's where the Seeker . . . Never mind," said Harry.
Glancing at Ron, she saw him on his hands and knees, searching under the wardrobe as Harry walked over to Regulus's desk.
"There's an easier way," said Hermione, as she saw Harry wipe his inky fingers on his jeans.
She raised her wand and said, "Accio Locket!" Nothing happened.
Ron, who had been searching the folds of the faded curtains, looked disappointed. "Is that it, then? It's not here?"
"Oh, it could still be here, but under counter-enchantments," said Hermione. "Charms to prevent it being summoned magically, you know."
"Like Voldemort put on the stone basin in the cave," said Harry, remembering how he had been unable to Summon the fake locket.
"How are we supposed to find it then?" asked Ron.
"We search manually," said Hermione.
"That's a good idea," said Ron, rolling his eyes, and he resumed his examination of the curtains. *Rowling, J.K.. Harry Potter: The Complete Collection (1-7) (pp. 3474-3480). Pottermore Publishing. Kindle Edition.
Hermione sighed, "Ronald, there isn't going to be anything but dust mites, pixies, and moths in those curtains. You can quit pretending to search."
"Good, because I'm hungry."
Hermione looked at him with crossed arms, "And who is going to cook breakfast?"
"Kreacher, of course, or you," Ron said as Harry coughed, shaking his head.
Hermione threw her hands up and stormed out of the room. "Unbelievable!"
Harry came up next to her, "Ignore him. He thinks all women could be like his mother."
Hermione glanced at him as they walked down the stairs, "And I'm not."
Harry laughed, "No, you will never be a stay-at-home Mum that just keeps house. You will change our world."
Hermione blushed, and her heart seemed to skip a beat. "You think so?"
"Know so," Harry told her as Ron caught up to them.
Hermione sighed. "It could be somewhere else in the house, though," said Hermione. "Whether he'd managed to destroy it or not, he'd want to keep it hidden from Voldemort, wouldn't he? Remember all those awful things we had to get rid of when we were here last time? That clock that shot bolts at everyone and those old robes that tried to strangle Ron; Regulus might have put them there to protect the locket's hiding place, even though we didn't realize it at . . . at . . ."
Hermione paused just before she went to step onto the landing of the second floor when she realized she and Ginny had found a locket. A locket that not even Molly could open in the cabinet in the drawing room. ". . . at the time," she finished in a whisper.
"Something wrong?" asked Ron.
"There was a locket." Hermione turned around to the boys.
"What?" said Harry and Ron together.
"In the cabinet in the drawing room. Nobody could open it. And we . . . we . . ." Hermione trailed off as she tried to think of where she saw it last.
"Kreacher nicked loads of things back from us," said Harry. "He had a whole stash of stuff in his cupboard in the kitchen. C'mon."
Harry led the way past her, taking two steps at a time as she and Ron followed him.
Mrs. Black's portrait woke up as the skidded to the main floor. "Filth! Mudbloods! Scum!" she screamed after them as they dashed down into the basement kitchen and slammed the door behind them.
Harry ran the length of the room, skidded to a halt at the door of Kreacher's cupboard, and wrenched it open. He snatched the blankets and shook them. A locket didn't fall, but a dead mouse fell out and rolled dismally across the floor.
Ron groaned as he threw himself into a kitchen chair, and Hermione closed her eyes.
"It's not over yet," said Harry, and he raised his voice and called, "Kreacher!"
There was a loud crack and Kreacher appeared. "Master," croaked Kreacher in his bullfrog's voice, and he bowed low, muttering to his knees, "back in my Mistress's old house with the blood-traitor Weasley and the Mudblood —"
"I forbid you to call anyone 'blood traitor' or 'Mudblood,'" growled Harry.
He would have found Kreacher, with his snoutlike nose and bloodshot eyes, a distinctly unlovable object even if the elf had not betrayed Sirius to Voldemort. "I've got a question for you," said Harry, his heart beating rather fast as he looked down at the elf, "and I order you to answer it truthfully. Understand?"
"Yes, Master," said Kreacher, bowing low again.
"Two years ago," said Harry, his heart now hammering against his ribs, "there was a big gold locket in the drawing room upstairs. We threw it out. Did you steal it back?"
There was a moment's silence, during which Kreacher straightened up to look Harry full in the face. Then he said, "Yes."
"Where is it now?" asked Harry jubilantly as Ron and Hermione looked gleeful.
Kreacher closed his eyes as though he could not bear to see their reactions to his next word. "Gone."
"Gone?" echoed Harry, elation flooding out of him. "What do you mean, it's gone?"
The elf shivered. He swayed.
"Kreacher," said Harry fiercely, "I order you —"
"Mundungus Fletcher," croaked the elf, his eyes still tight shut. "Mundungus Fletcher stole it all: Miss Bella's and Miss Cissy's pictures, my Mistress's gloves, the Order of Merlin, First Class, the goblets with the family crest, and — and —" Kreacher was gulping for air: His hollow chest was rising and falling rapidly, then his eyes flew open and he uttered a bloodcurdling scream. " — and the locket, Master Regulus's locket, Kreacher did wrong, Kreacher failed in his orders!"
Kreacher lunged for the poker standing in the grate, Hermione screamed as Kreacher did at the same time as Harry grabbed for him.
"Kreacher, I order you to stay still!" Harry yelled.
Kreacher lay flat on the cold stone floor, tears gushing from his sagging eyes.
"Harry, let him up!" Hermione whispered.
"So he can beat himself up with the poker?" snorted Harry, kneeling beside the elf. "I don't think so. Right, Kreacher, I want the truth: How do you know Mundungus Fletcher stole the locket?"
"Kreacher saw him!" gasped the elf as tears poured over his snout and into his mouth full of graying teeth. "Kreacher saw him coming out of Kreacher's cupboard with his hands full of Kreacher's treasures. Kreacher told the sneak thief to stop, but Mundungus Fletcher laughed and r-ran. . . ."
"You called the locket 'Master Regulus's,'" said Harry. "Why? Where did it come from? What did Regulus have to do with it? Kreacher, sit up and tell me everything you know about that locket, and everything Regulus had to do with it!"
The elf sat up, curled into a ball, placed his wet face between his knees, and began to rock backward and forward. When he spoke, his voice was muffled but quite distinct in the silent, echoing kitchen. "Master Sirius ran away, good riddance, for he was a bad boy and broke my Mistress's heart with his lawless ways. But Master Regulus had proper pride; he knew what was due to the name of Black and the dignity of his pure blood. For years he talked of the Dark Lord, who was going to bring the wizards out of hiding to rule the Muggles and the Muggle-borns . . . and when he was sixteen years old, Master Regulus joined the Dark Lord. So proud, so proud, so happy to serve . . . "And one day, a year after he had joined, Master Regulus came down to the kitchen to see Kreacher. Master Regulus always liked Kreacher. And Master Regulus said . . . he said . . . The old elf rocked faster than ever. ". . . he said that the Dark Lord required an elf."
Hermione frowned.
"Voldemort needed an elf?" Harry repeated, looking around at Ron and Hermione.
"Oh yes," moaned Kreacher. "And Master Regulus had volunteered Kreacher. It was an honor, said Master Regulus, an honor for him and for Kreacher, who must be sure to do whatever the Dark Lord ordered him to do . . . and then to c-come home." Kreacher rocked still faster, his breath coming in sobs. "So Kreacher went to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord did not tell Kreacher what they were to do, but took Kreacher with him to a cave beside the sea. And beyond the cave there was a cavern, and in the cavern was a great black lake .. . . There was a boat . . There was a b-basin full of potion on the island. The D-Dark Lord made Kreacher drink it. . . ." The elf quaked from head to foot. "Kreacher drank, and as he drank, he saw terrible things . . . . Kreacher's insides burned . . . Kreacher cried for Master Regulus to save him, he cried for his Mistress Black, but the Dark Lord only laughed . . . He made Kreacher drink all the potion . . . He dropped a locket into the empty basin. . . . He filled it with more potion. "And then the Dark Lord sailed away, leaving Kreacher on the island. Kreacher needed water, he crawled to the island's edge and he drank from the black lake . . . and hands, dead hands, came out of the water and dragged Kreacher under the surface. . . ."
"How did you get away?" Harry asked, whispering.
Kreacher raised his ugly head and looked at Harry with his great, bloodshot eyes. "Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back," he said.
"I know — but how did you escape the Inferi?" Harry asked, making Hermione look at him in shock.
Kreacher did not seem to understand. "Master Regulus told Kreacher to come back," he repeated.
"I know, but —" Harry stated, confused as Hermione's heart hurt for the poor elf.
"Well, it's obvious, isn't it, Harry?" said Ron. "He Disapparated!"
"But . . . you couldn't Apparate in and out of that cave," said Harry, "otherwise Dumbledore —"
"Elf magic isn't like wizard's magic, is it?" said Ron. "I mean, they can Apparate and Disapparate in and out of Hogwarts when we can't."
Hermione stewed, realizing that wizard kind was so evil to those beneath them. "Of course, Voldemort would have considered the ways of house-elves far beneath his notice, just like all the purebloods who treat them like animals . . . It would never have occurred to him that they might have magic that he didn't."
"The house-elf's highest law is his Master's bidding," intoned Kreacher. "Kreacher was told to come home, so Kreacher came home. . . ."
"Well, then, you did what you were told, didn't you?" said Hermione kindly. "You didn't disobey orders at all!"
Kreacher shook his head, rocking as fast as ever.
"So what happened when you got back?" Harry asked. "What did Regulus say when you told him what had happened?"
"Master Regulus was very worried, very worried," croaked Kreacher. "Master Regulus told Kreacher to stay hidden and not to leave the house. And then . . . it was a little while later . . . Master Regulus came to find Kreacher in his cupboard one night, and Master Regulus was strange, not as he usually was, disturbed in his mind, Kreacher could tell . . . and he asked Kreacher to take him to the cave, the cave where Kreacher had gone with the Dark Lord. . . ."
"And he made you drink the potion?" said Harry, disgusted.
But Kreacher shook his head and wept.
Hermione gasped as her hands leapt to her mouth as she realized that Regulus had sacrificed himself for Kreacher.
"M-Master Regulus took from his pocket a locket like the one the Dark Lord had," said Kreacher, tears pouring down either side of his snoutlike nose. "And he told Kreacher to take it and, when the basin was empty, to switch the lockets. And he ordered — Kreacher to leave — without him. And he told Kreacher — to go home — and never to tell my Mistress — what he had done — but to destroy — the first locket. And he drank — all the potion — and Kreacher swapped the lockets — and watched . . . as Master Regulus . . . was dragged beneath the water . . . and . . ."
"Oh, Kreacher!" wailed Hermione, who was crying. She dropped to her knees beside the elf and tried to hug him.
At once, he was on his feet, cringing away from her, quite obviously repulsed. "The Mudblood touched Kreacher, he will not allow it, what would his Mistress say?"
"I told you not to call her 'Mudblood'!" snarled Harry, but the elf was already punishing himself: He fell to the ground and banged his forehead on the floor.
"Stop him! Stop him!" Hermione cried. "Oh, don't you see now how sick it is, the way they've got to obey?"
"Kreacher — stop, stop!" shouted Harry.
The elf lay on the floor, panting and shivering, green mucus glistening around his snout, a bruise already blooming on his pallid forehead where he had struck himself, his eyes swollen and bloodshot and swimming in tears.
"So you brought the locket home," he said relentlessly, for he was determined to know the full story. "And you tried to destroy it?"
"Nothing Kreacher did made any mark upon it," moaned the elf. "Kreacher tried everything, everything he knew, but nothing, nothing would work. . . . So many powerful spells upon the casing, Kreacher was sure the way to destroy it was to get inside it, but it would not open. . . . Kreacher punished himself, he tried again, he punished himself, he tried again. Kreacher failed to obey orders, Kreacher could not destroy the locket! And his Mistress was mad with grief, because Master Regulus had disappeared, and Kreacher could not tell her what had happened, no, because Master Regulus had f-f-forbidden him to tell any of the f-f-family what happened in the c-cave. . . ." Kreacher began to sob so hard that there were no more coherent words.
Tears flowed down Hermione's cheeks as she watched Kreacher, but she did not dare touch him again.
Harry sat back on his heels and shook his head, trying to clear it. "I don't understand you, Kreacher," he said finally. "Voldemort tried to kill you, Regulus died to bring Voldemort down, but you were still happy to betray Sirius to Voldemort? You were happy to go to Narcissa and Bellatrix, and pass information to Voldemort through them. . . ."
"Harry, Kreacher doesn't think like that," said Hermione, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. "He's a slave; house-elves are used to bad, even brutal treatment; what Voldemort did to Kreacher wasn't that far out of the common way. What do wizard wars mean to an elf like Kreacher? He's loyal to people who are kind to him, and Mrs. Black must have been, and Regulus certainly was, so he served them willingly and parroted their beliefs. I know what you're going to say," she went on as Harry began to protest, "that Regulus changed his mind . . . but he doesn't seem to have explained that to Kreacher, does he? And I think I know why. Kreacher and Regulus's family were all safer if they kept to the old pure-blood line. Regulus was trying to protect them all."
"Sirius —" Harry defended.
Hermione swallowed hard. "Sirius was horrible to Kreacher, Harry, and it's no good looking like that, you know it's true. Kreacher had been alone for a long time when Sirius came to live here, and he was probably starving for a bit of affection. I'm sure 'Miss Cissy' and 'Miss Bella' were perfectly lovely to Kreacher when he turned up, so he did them a favor and told them everything they wanted to know. I've said all along that wizards would pay for how they treat house-elves. Well, Voldemort did . . . and so did Sirius."
"Kreacher," said Harry after a while, "when you feel up to it, er . . . please sit up."
It was several minutes before Kreacher hiccuped himself into silence. Then he pushed himself into a sitting position again, rubbing his knuckles into his eyes like a small child.
"Kreacher, I am going to ask you to do something," said Harry. He glanced at Hermione for assistance.
She smiled encouragingly.
"Kreacher, I want you, please, to go and find Mundungus Fletcher. We need to find out where the locket — where Master Regulus's locket is. It's really important. We want to finish the work Master Regulus started, we want to — er — ensure that he didn't die in vain." Harry stated.
Kreacher dropped his fists and looked up at Harry. "Find Mundungus Fletcher?" he croaked.
"And bring him here, to Grimmauld Place," said Harry. "Do you think you could do that for us?"
As Kreacher nodded and got to his feet, Harry pulled out Hagrid's purse, which he gave them and took out the fake Horcrux, "Kreacher, I'd, er, like you to have this," he said, pressing the locket into the elf's hand. "This belonged to Regulus and I'm sure he'd want you to have it as a token of gratitude for what you —"
"Overkill, mate," said Ron as the elf took one look at the locket, let out a howl of shock and misery, and threw himself back onto the ground.
It took them nearly half an hour to calm down Kreacher, who was so overcome to be presented with a Black family heirloom for his very own that he was too weak at the knees to stand properly. When finally he was able to totter a few steps, they all accompanied him to his cupboard, watched him tuck up the locket safely in his dirty blankets, and assured him that they would make its protection their first priority while he was away. He then made two low bows to Harry and Ron, and even gave a funny little spasm in Hermione's direction that might have been an attempt at a respectful salute, before Disapparating with the usual loud crack. *Rowling, J.K.. Harry Potter: The Complete Collection (1-7) (pp. 3480-3491). Pottermore Publishing. Kindle Edition.
~*~ 4th August 1997 ~*~
Hermione sighed as she sat in the drawing room window, turning the pages of The History of Magic again, trying to see if it gave her any hints as to what Voldemort may have used.
"Find anything good?" Harry asked as he came into the drawing room.
Hermione sighed, "No," she stated, closing the book. "I just…" She trailed off as she noticed two cloaked men in the square. "Can people see through these windows from the outside?"
Harry frowned, "I don't think so. Why?"
Hermione pointed to the two men who were standing in the night, staring at them.
"Ron!" Harry yelled, not taking his eyes away from them.
Ron came into the room and looked out the window. "Death Eaters, for sure," said Ron, as he, Harry, and Hermione watched from the drawing room windows. "Reckon they know we're in here?"
"I don't think so," said Hermione, though she looked frightened, "or they'd have sent Snape in after us, wouldn't they?"
"D'you reckon he's been in here and had his tongue tied by Moody's curse?" asked Ron.
"Yes," said Hermione, "otherwise he'd have been able to tell that lot how to get in, wouldn't he? But they're probably watching to see whether we turn up. They know that Harry owns the house, after all."
"How do they — ?" began Harry.
"Wizarding wills are examined by the Ministry, remember? They'll know Sirius left you the place." * Rowling, J.K.. Harry Potter: The Complete Collection (1-7) (pp. 3492-3493). Pottermore Publishing. Kindle Edition.
That evening, Hermione had instead switched to The Tales of Beedle the Bard and tried not to growl out loud, as Ron used the Deluminator to switch the lights, flashing on and off.
"Will you stop it!" she cried as all light was sucked from the drawing room yet again.
"Sorry, sorry!" said Ron, clicking the Deluminator and restoring the lights. "I don't know I'm doing it!"
"Well, can't you find something useful to occupy yourself?" Hermione snapped, her patience with him wearing thin.
"What, like reading kids' stories?" Ron snarked.
Hermione glared at him. "Dumbledore left me this book, Ron —"
"— and he left me the Deluminator, maybe I'm supposed to use it!" Ron said, standing up.
Hermione hit her hands against the table, "Ronald Weasley, you are so infuriating!"
Ron snorted, "Like you are a ray of sunshine either."
Hermione looked around and noticed Harry wasn't in the room. "Where did Harry go?"
"Don't move!"
"Fuck someone is here!" Ron yelled, jumping over the sofa, and Hermione rushed around behind him as Mrs. Black's portrait started screaming.
Hermione had her wand at the ready as she nearly crashed into the back of Harry on the steps, Ron right beside her. At the hallway entrance, there was a figure all in black. The figure raised his arms when he saw them.
"Hold your fire, it's me, Remus!"
"Oh, thank goodness," said Hermione weakly, pointing her wand at Mrs. Black instead; with a bang, the curtains swished shut again, and silence fell.
Ron, too, lowered his wand, but Harry did not.
"Show yourself!" he called back.
Lupin moved forward into the lamplight, hands still held high in a gesture of surrender. "I am Remus John Lupin, werewolf, sometimes known as Moony, one of the four creators of the Marauder's Map, married to Nymphadora, usually known as Tonks, and I taught you how to produce a Patronus, Harry, which takes the form of a stag."
"Oh, all right," said Harry, lowering his wand, "but I had to check, didn't I?"
"Speaking as your ex-Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, I quite agree that you had to check. Ron, Hermione, you shouldn't be quite so quick to lower your defenses."
Hermione swallowed hard as she bit her lip, glancing at Harry, who started moving forward toward Lupin.
Wrapped in a thick black traveling cloak, he looked exhausted but pleased to see them. "No sign of Severus, then?" he asked.
"No," said Harry. "What's going on? Is everyone okay?"
"Yes," said Lupin, "but we're all being watched. There are a couple of Death Eaters in the square outside —"
"We know —"
"I had to Apparate very precisely onto the top step outside the front door to be sure that they would not see me. They can't know you're in here or I'm sure they'd have more people out there; they're staking out everywhere that's got any connection with you, Harry. Let's go downstairs, there's a lot to tell you, and I want to know what happened after you left the Burrow."
They descended into the kitchen, where Hermione pointed her wand at the grate. A fire sprang up instantly: It gave the illusion of coziness to the stark stone walls and glistened off the long wooden table. Lupin pulled a few butterbeers from beneath his traveling cloak and they sat down.
"I'd have been here three days ago, but I needed to shake off the Death Eater tailing me," said Lupin. "So, you came straight here after the wedding?"
"No," said Harry, "only after we ran into a couple of Death Eaters in a café on Tottenham Court Road."
Lupin slopped most of his butterbeer down his front. "What?"
They explained what had happened; when they had finished, Lupin looked aghast. "But how did they find you so quickly? It's impossible to track anyone who Apparates, unless you grab hold of them as they disappear!"
"And it doesn't seem likely they were just strolling down Tottenham Court Road at the time, does it?" said Harry.
"We wondered," said Hermione tentatively, "whether Harry could still have the Trace on him?"
"Impossible," said Lupin. "Apart from anything else, they'd know for sure Harry was here if he still had the Trace on him, wouldn't they? But I can't see how they could have tracked you to Tottenham Court Road, that's worrying, really worrying."
"Tell us what happened after we left, we haven't heard a thing since Ron's dad told us the family were safe." Harry stated.
"Well, Kingsley saved us," said Lupin. "Thanks to his warning most of the wedding guests were able to Disapparate before they arrived."
"Were they Death Eaters or Ministry people?" interjected Hermione.
"A mixture; but to all intents and purposes, they're the same thing now," said Lupin, looking at her. "There were about a dozen of them, but they didn't know you were there, Harry. Arthur heard a rumor that they tried to torture your whereabouts out of Scrimgeour before they killed him; if it's true, he didn't give you away. The Death Eaters searched the Burrow from top to bottom," Lupin went on. "They found the ghoul, but didn't want to get too close — and then they interrogated those of us who remained for hours. They were trying to get information on you, Harry, but of course nobody apart from the Order knew that you had been there. At the same time that they were smashing up the wedding, more Death Eaters were forcing their way into every Order-connected house in the country. No deaths," he added quickly, forestalling the question, "but they were rough. They burned down Dedalus Diggle's house, but as you know he wasn't there, and they used the Cruciatus Curse on Tonks's family. Again, trying to find out where you went after you visited them. They're all right — shaken, obviously, but otherwise okay."
"The Death Eaters got through all those protective charms?" Harry asked.
"What you've got to realize, Harry, is that the Death Eaters have got the full might of the Ministry on their side now," said Lupin. "They've got the power to perform brutal spells without fear of identification or arrest. They managed to penetrate every defensive spell we'd cast against them, and once inside, they were completely open about why they'd come."
"And are they bothering to give an excuse for torturing Harry's whereabouts out of people?" asked Hermione, swallowing hard.
"Well," said Lupin. He hesitated, then pulled out a folded copy of the Daily Prophet. "Here," he said, pushing it across the table to Harry, "you'll know sooner or later anyway. That's their pretext for going after you."
Harry smoothed out the paper. A huge photograph of his own face filled the front page. He read the headline over it: WANTED FOR QUESTIONING ABOUT THE DEATH OF ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
"No fucking way!" Hermione yelled as Ron gasped, "Bloody Hell!"
Harry said nothing. He pushed the newspaper away.
"I'm sorry, Harry," Lupin said.
"So, Death Eaters have taken over the Daily Prophet too?" asked Hermione furiously.
Lupin nodded.
"But surely people realize what's going on?" Hermione stated in disbelief.
"The coup has been smooth and virtually silent," said Lupin. "The official version of Scrimgeour's murder is that he resigned; he has been replaced by Pius Thicknesse, who is under the Imperius Curse."
"Why didn't Voldemort declare himself Minister of Magic?" asked Ron.
Lupin laughed. "He doesn't need to, Ron. Effectively he is the Minister, but why should he sit behind a desk at the Ministry? His puppet, Thicknesse, is taking care of everyday business, leaving Voldemort free to extend his power beyond the Ministry. Naturally many people have deduced what has happened: There has been such a dramatic change in Ministry policy in the last few days, and many are whispering that Voldemort must be behind it. However, that is the point: They whisper. They daren't confide in each other, not knowing whom to trust; they are scared to speak out, in case their suspicions are true and their families are targeted. Yes, Voldemort is playing a very clever game. Declaring himself might have provoked open rebellion: Remaining masked has created confusion, uncertainty, and fear."
"And this dramatic change in Ministry policy," said Harry, "involves warning the Wizarding world against me instead of Voldemort?"
"That's certainly part of it," said Lupin, "and it is a masterstroke. Now that Dumbledore is dead, you — the Boy Who Lived — were sure to be the symbol and rallying point for any resistance to Voldemort. But by suggesting that you had a hand in the old hero's death, Voldemort has not only set a price upon your head, but sown doubt and fear amongst many who would have defended you. Meanwhile, the Ministry has started moving against Muggle-borns." Lupin pointed at the Daily Prophet. "Look at page two."
Hermione turned the pages with much the same expression of distaste she had worn when handling Secrets of the Darkest Art. "'Muggle-born Register,'" she read aloud. "'The Ministry of Magic is undertaking a survey of so-called "Muggle-borns," the better to understand how they came to possess magical secrets. "'Recent research undertaken by the Department of Mysteries reveals that magic can only be passed from person to person when Wizards reproduce. Where no proven Wizarding ancestry exists, therefore, the so-called Muggle-born is likely to have obtained magical power by theft or force. "'The Ministry is determined to root out such usurpers of magical power, and to this end has issued an invitation to every so-called Muggle-born to present themselves for interview by the newly appointed Muggle-born Registration Commission.'"
Hermione felt her heart race as she grew sick to her stomach,
"People won't let this happen," said Ron.
"It is happening, Ron," said Lupin. "Muggle-borns are being rounded up as we speak."
"But how are they supposed to have 'stolen' magic?" said Ron. "It's mental, if you could steal magic, there wouldn't be any Squibs, would there?"
"I know," said Lupin. "Nevertheless, unless you can prove that you have at least one close Wizarding relative, you are now deemed to have obtained your magical power illegally and must suffer the punishment."
"What if purebloods and half-bloods swear a Muggle-born's part of their family? I'll tell everyone Hermione's my cousin —" Ron stated.
Hermione covered Ron's hand with hers and squeezed it. "Thank you, Ron, but I couldn't let you —"
"You won't have a choice," said Ron fiercely, gripping her hand back. "I'll teach you my family tree so you can answer questions on it."
Hermione gave a shaky laugh. "Ron, as we're on the run with Harry Potter, the most wanted person in the country, I don't think it matters. If I was going back to school it would be different. What's Voldemort planning for Hogwarts?" she asked Lupin.
"Attendance is now compulsory for every young witch and wizard," Lupin replied. "That was announced yesterday. It's a change, because it was never obligatory before. Of course, nearly every witch and wizard in Britain has been educated at Hogwarts, but their parents had the right to teach them at home or send them abroad if they preferred. This way, Voldemort will have the whole Wizarding population under his eye from a young age. And it's also another way of weeding out Muggle-borns, because students must be given Blood Status — meaning that they have proven to the Ministry that they are of Wizard descent — before they are allowed to attend."
"It's . . . it's . . ." Harry muttered as he looked at Hermione.
Lupin said quietly, "I know." Lupin hesitated. "I'll understand if you can't confirm this, Harry, but the Order is under the impression that Dumbledore left you a mission."
"He did," Harry replied, "and Ron and Hermione are in on it and they're coming with me."
"Can you confide in me what the mission is?" Remus asked, and Hermione looked at Harry.
"I can't, Remus, I'm sorry. If Dumbledore didn't tell you, I don't think I can." Harry told him.
"I thought you'd say that," said Lupin, looking disappointed. "But I might still be of some use to you. You know what I am and what I can do. I could come with you to provide protection. There would be no need to tell me exactly what you were up to."
Hermione looked at him with narrowed eyes. "But what about Tonks?" she asked.
Lupin looked over at her. "What about her?" said Lupin.
"Well," said Hermione, frowning, "you're married! How does she feel about you going away with us?"
"Tonks will be perfectly safe," said Lupin coldly. "She'll be at her parents' house."
"Remus," said Hermione tentatively, "is everything all right . . . you know . . . between you and —"
"Everything is fine, thank you," said Lupin pointedly. "Tonks is going to have a baby."
"Oh, how wonderful!" squealed Hermione.
"Excellent!" said Ron enthusiastically.
"Congratulations," said Harry.
Lupin gave an artificial smile that was more like a grimace, then said, "So . . . do you accept my offer? Will three become four? I cannot believe that Dumbledore would have disapproved, he appointed me your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, after all. And I must tell you that I believe that we are facing magic, many of us have never encountered or imagined."
Ron and Hermione both looked at Harry, who folded his arms over his chest.
"Just — just to be clear," Harry said. "You want to leave Tonks at her parents' house and come away with us?"
"She'll be perfectly safe there, they'll look after her," said Lupin. "Harry, I'm sure James would have wanted me to stick with you."
"Well," said Harry slowly, "I'm not. I'm pretty sure my father would have wanted to know why you aren't sticking with your own kid, actually."
Lupin's face drained of color.
Hermione's eyes swiveled backward and forward from Harry to Lupin.
"You don't understand," said Lupin at last.
"Explain, then," said Harry.
Lupin swallowed. "I — I made a grave mistake in marrying Tonks. I did it against my better judgment and I have regretted it very much ever since."
"I see," said Harry, "so you're just going to dump her and the kid and run off with us?"
Lupin sprang to his feet. His chair toppled over backward, and he glared at them. "Don't you understand what I've done to my wife and my unborn child? I should never have married her, I've made her an outcast!" Lupin kicked aside the chair he had overturned. "You have only ever seen me amongst the Order, or under Dumbledore's protection at Hogwarts! You don't know how most of the Wizarding World sees creatures like me! When they know of my affliction, they can barely talk to me! Don't you see what I've done? Even her own family is disgusted by our marriage, what parents want their only daughter to marry a werewolf? And the child — the child —" Lupin actually seized handfuls of his own hair; he looked quite deranged. "My kind don't usually breed! It will be like me, I am convinced of it — how can I forgive myself, when I knowingly risked passing on my own condition to an innocent child? And if, by some miracle, it is not like me, then it will be better off, a hundred times so, without a father of whom it must always be ashamed!"
"Remus!" whispered Hermione, tears in her eyes. "Don't say that — how could any child be ashamed of you?"
"Oh, I don't know, Hermione," said Harry. "I'd be pretty ashamed of him."
Lupin looked as though Harry had hit him.
"If the new regime thinks Muggle-borns are bad," Harry said, "what will they do to a half-werewolf whose father's in the Order? My father died trying to protect my mother and me, and you reckon he'd tell you to abandon your kid to go on an adventure with us? He'd be ashamed of you, Remus, Sirius, too. Frankly, I am as well. If I ever have a child, I would never dare abandon it."
"How — how dare you?" said Lupin. "This is not about a desire for — for danger or personal glory — how dare you suggest such a —"
"I think you're feeling a bit of a daredevil," Harry said. "You fancy stepping into Sirius's shoes —"
"Harry, no!" Hermione begged him, but he continued to glare into Lupin's livid face.
"I'd never have believed this," Harry said. "The man who taught me to fight dementors — a coward."
Lupin drew his wand so fast that Harry had barely reached for his own; there was a loud bang, and Harry flew backwards into the kitchen wall.
"Harry!" Hermione yelled as she ran over to him, checking his head.
They saw the tail of Lupin's cloak disappearing around the door.
"Remus, Remus, come back!" Hermione cried, but Lupin did not respond.
A moment later, they heard the front door slam. "Harry!" wailed Hermione. "How could you?"
"It was easy," said Harry. He stood up. "Don't look at me like that!" he snapped at Hermione.
"Don't you start on her!" snarled Ron.
"No — no — we mustn't fight!" said Hermione, launching herself between them.
"You shouldn't have said that stuff to Lupin," Ron told Harry.
"He had it coming to him," said Harry. "Parents," said Harry, "shouldn't leave their kids unless — unless they've got to."
"Harry —" said Hermione, stretching out a consoling hand, but he shrugged it off and walked away,
"I know I shouldn't have called him a coward," Harry said, looking at her and Ron.
"No, you shouldn't," said Ron at once. "But he's acting like one."
"All the same," Hermione trailed off.
"I know," said Harry. "But if it makes him go back to Tonks, it'll be worth it, won't it?"
Hermione looked at Harry and swallowed hard.
The Daily Prophet Lupin had brought was still lying on the table, Harry's own face staring up at the ceiling from the front page. He walked over to it and sat down, opening the paper at random.
Hermione looked at Ron, who shrugged, then sighed as she got into the cooling box and started getting ready to make them sandwiches.
A deafening crack echoed around the kitchen, making Hermione jump back into the cooling box.
A mass of struggling limbs that had appeared out of thin air right beside Harry's chair. He hurried to his feet as Kreacher disentangled himself and, bowing low to Harry, croaked, "Kreacher has returned with the thief Mundungus Fletcher, Master."
Mundungus scrambled up and pulled out his wand.
Hermione, however, was too quick for him. "Expelliarmus!"
Mundungus's wand soared into the air, and Hermione caught it.
Wild-eyed, Mundungus dived for the stairs. Ron rugby-tackled him and Mundungus hit the stone floor with a muffled crunch.
"What?" he bellowed, writhing in his attempts to free himself from Ron's grip. "Wha've I done? Setting a bleedin' 'ouse-elf on me, what are you playing at, wha've I done, lemme go, lemme go, or —"
"You're not in much of a position to make threats," said Harry.
Ron got up, panting, and watched as Harry pointed his wand deliberately at Mundungus's nose.
"Kreacher apologizes for the delay in bringing the thief, Master," croaked the elf. "Fletcher knows how to avoid capture, has many hidey-holes and accomplices. Nevertheless, Kreacher cornered the thief in the end."
"You've done really well, Kreacher," said Harry, and the elf bowed low.
"Right, we've got a few questions for you," Harry told Mundungus, who shouted at once, "I panicked, okay? I never wanted to come along, no offense, mate, but I never volunteered to die for you, an' that was bleedin' You-Know-Who come flying at me, anyone woulda got outta there, I said all along I didn't wanna do it —"
"For your information, none of the rest of us Disapparated," said Hermione.
"Well, you're a bunch of bleedin' 'eroes then, aren't you, but I never pretended I was up for killing meself —"
"We're not interested in why you ran out on Mad-Eye," said Harry, moving his wand a little closer to Mundungus's baggy, bloodshot eyes. "We already knew you were an unreliable bit of scum."
"Well then, why the 'ell am I being 'unted down by 'ouse-elves? Or is this about them goblets again? I ain't got none of 'em left, or you could 'ave 'em —"
"It's not about the goblets either, although you're getting warmer," said Harry. "Shut up and listen. When you cleaned out this house of anything valuable," Harry began, but Mundungus interrupted him again. "Sirius never cared about any of the junk —"
There was the sound of pattering feet, a blaze of shining copper, an echoing clang, and a shriek of agony: Kreacher had taken a run at Mundungus and hit him over the head with a saucepan.
"Call 'im off, call 'im off, 'e should be locked up!" screamed Mundungus, cowering as Kreacher raised the heavy-bottomed pan again.
"Kreacher, no!" shouted Harry. Kreacher's thin arms trembled with the weight of the pan, still held aloft. "Perhaps just one more, Master Harry, for luck?"
Ron laughed.
"We need him conscious, Kreacher, but if he needs persuading you can do the honors," said Harry.
"Thank you very much, Master," said Kreacher with a bow, and he retreated a short distance, his great pale eyes still fixed upon Mundungus with loathing.
"When you stripped this house of all the valuables you could find," Harry began again, "you took a bunch of stuff from the kitchen cupboard. There was a locket there. What did you do with it?"
"Why?" asked Mundungus. "Is it valuable?"
"You've still got it!" cried Hermione.
"No, he hasn't," said Ron shrewdly. "He's wondering whether he should have asked more money for it."
"More?" said Mundungus. "That wouldn't have been effing difficult . . . bleedin' gave it away, di'n' I? No choice."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked as Hermione gasped.
"I was selling in Diagon Alley and she come up to me and asks if I've got a license for trading in magical artifacts. Bleedin' snoop. She was gonna fine me, but she took a fancy to the locket an' told me she'd take it and let me off that time, and to fink meself lucky."
"Who was this woman?" asked Harry.
"I dunno, some Ministry hag." Mundungus considered for a moment, brow wrinkled. "Little woman. Bow on top of 'er head." He frowned and then added, "Looked like a toad."
Harry dropped his wand: It hit Mundungus on the nose and shot red sparks into his eyebrows, which ignited.
"Aguamenti!" screamed Hermione, and a jet of water streamed from her wand, engulfing a spluttering and choking Mundungus.
Harry looked up and saw his own shock reflected in Ron's and Hermione's faces. *Rowling, J.K.. Harry Potter: The Complete Collection (1-7) (pp. 3493-3512). Pottermore Publishing. Kindle Edition.
Hermione swallowed hard, then sighed, "Umbridge has it."
Preview of Chapter 5 – Thanks for the Memories
Hermione blinked as Harry pulled it out of the magical oven and threw it onto the stove next to the frying pan. She let out a small giggle. Putting her hand to her mouth, she tried to cover it, but it broke through, bubbling up into something she hadn't felt in weeks as it turned into uncontrollable laughter.
Harry turned startled. "What?"
"You tried to bake?" She gasped, "With the magic oven that neither of us has figured out?"
His lips twitched. "How hard could it be?"
Hermione doubled over in laughter, tears falling down her face, echoing through the tent. Harry joined in, her laughter seemingly infectious. For the first time in days, they were happy.
They ended up on the tent floor, sitting cross-legged against the kitchenette with the deflated cake between them. Harry handed her a fork, and they both dug in, eating straight from the pan. The texture was dense, burnt more toward the edges, but it was sugary and wonderful. Making Hermione's chest ache, not in heartache, but in joy.
Harry wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "It was supposed to be a belated birthday cake. We never did anything for your birthday."
Hermione paused, her fork in mid-air, "Oh, Harry, you got me that lily." She said, thinking of the flower still sitting beside her bed.
Harry shrugged, "Well, happy belated birthday."