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.
There's nothing but the silence in between us.
That hasn't already been broken.
The only sound are two strangers now
Only coming and going.
To save our breath and walk away
And leave the rest unspoken
There's nothing but the silence in between us
That hasn't already been broken
~ Nothing But the Silence by Striking Matches
~*~28th December 1997 ~*~
As soon as Hermione's feet hit the ground, she pushed past the nausea and started casting their protective enchantments.
"That treacherous old bleeder!" Ron panted, emerging from beneath the Invisibility Cloak and throwing it to Harry. "Hermione, you're a genius, a total genius, I can't believe we got out of that!"
Hermione glanced at them, "Cave Inimicum . . . Didn't I say it was an Erumpent horn, didn't I tell him? And now his house has been blown apart!"
"Serves him right," said Ron, examining his torn jeans and the cuts to his legs. "What d'you reckon they'll do to him?"
"Oh, I hope they don't kill him!" groaned Hermione. "That's why I wanted the Death Eaters to get a glimpse of Harry before we left, so they knew Xenophilius hadn't been lying!"
"Why hide me, though?" asked Ron.
"You're supposed to be in bed with spattergroit, Ron! They've kidnapped Luna because her father supported Harry! What would happen to your family if they knew you're with him?" Hermione told him to finish the enchantments.
"But what about your mum and dad?" Ron asked.
Hermione sucked in a breath, closing her eyes. "They're in Australia. They should be all right. They don't know anything."
"You're a genius," Ron repeated staring at her.
"Yeah, you are, Hermione," agreed Harry. "I don't know what we'd do without you."
Hermione smiled, then thought of Luna. "What about Luna?"
"Well, if they're telling the truth and she's still alive —" began Ron.
Hermione's stomach sank. "Don't say that, don't say it! She must be alive, she must!"
"Then she'll be in Azkaban, I expect," said Ron. "Whether she survives the place, though . . . Loads don't. . . ."
"She will," said Harry. "She's tough, Luna, much tougher than you'd think. She's probably teaching all the inmates about Wrackspurts and Nargles."
Hermione felt exhausted already. "I hope you're right," She passed a hand over her eyes. "I'd feel so sorry for Xenophilius if —"
"— if he hadn't just tried to sell us to the Death Eaters, yeah," Ron added.
Together, they put up the tent and retreated inside it, where Ron made them tea.
"Fucking hell," Hermione swore standing up making Harry jump as he went to sit next to her, "Oh, why did we go there?" Hermione ran her fingers through her hair, "Harry, you were right, it was Godric's Hollow all over again, a complete waste of time! The Deathly Hallows . . . such rubbish . . . although actually," Hermione stopped. What if it was all fake? He was just stalling for time. But the Invisibility Cloak. "He might have made it all up, mightn't he? He probably doesn't believe in the Deathly Hallows at all, he just wanted to keep us talking until the Death Eaters arrived!"
"I don't think so," said Ron. "It's a damn sight harder making stuff up when you're under stress than you'd think. I found that out when the Snatchers caught me. It was much easier pretending to be Stan, because I knew a bit about him, than inventing a whole new person. Old Lovegood was under loads of pressure, trying to make sure we stayed put. I reckon he told us the truth, or what he thinks is the truth, just to keep us talking."
"Well, I don't suppose it matters," sighed Hermione. "Even if he was being honest, I never heard such a lot of nonsense in all my life."
"Hang on, though," said Ron. "The Chamber of Secrets was supposed to be a myth, wasn't it?"
Hermione turned to look at him, "But the Deathly Hallows can't exist, Ron!"
"You keep saying that, but one of them can," said Ron. "Harry's Invisibility Cloak —"
"'The Tale of the Three Brothers' is a story," said Hermione firmly. "A story about how humans are frightened of death. If surviving was as simple as hiding under the Invisibility Cloak, we'd have everything we need already!"
"I don't know. We could do with an unbeatable wand," said Harry.
"There's no such thing, Harry!" Hermione told him.
"You said there have been loads of wands — the Deathstick and whatever they were called," Harry stated.
"All right, even if you want to kid yourself the Elder Wand's real, what about the Resurrection Stone?" Hermione tried not to roll her eyes. "No magic can raise the dead, and that's that!"
"When my wand connected with You-Know-Who's, it made my mum and dad appear . . . and Cedric . . ." Harry told her.
Hermione softened a bit looking at him. "But they weren't really back from the dead, were they?" she asked quietly, "Those kinds of — of pale imitations aren't the same as truly bringing someone back to life."
Harry was thoughtful for a moment. "But she, the girl in the tale, didn't really come back, did she? The story says that once people are dead, they belong with the dead. But the second brother still got to see her and talk to her, didn't he? He even lived with her for a while. . . ." Harry told her.
Hermione's heart jumped into her throat at his talk of death and living with ghosts. She couldn't help but look at Ron, her eyes wide with fear. She didn't dare think or speak about what haunted her dreams at night. Harry dead in front of her and nothing she could do to change it.
"So that Peverell bloke who's buried in Godric's Hollow," Harry said hastily, "you don't know anything about him, then?"
"No," Hermione sighed. "I looked him up after I saw the mark on his grave; if he'd been anyone famous or done anything important, I'm sure he'd be in one of our books. The only place I've managed to find the name 'Peverell' is Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy. I borrowed it from Kreacher," she explained as Ron raised his eyebrows. "It lists the pure-blood families that are now extinct in the male line. Apparently the Peverells were one of the earliest families to vanish."
"'Extinct in the male line'?" repeated Ron.
"It means the name's died out," said Hermione, "centuries ago, in the case of the Peverells. They could still have descendants, though, they'd just be called something different."
"Marvolo Gaunt!" Harry yelled, standing up.
"Sorry?" said Ron and Hermione together.
"Marvolo Gaunt! You-Know-Who's grandfather! In the Pensieve! With Dumbledore! Marvolo Gaunt said he was descended from the Peverells!" Harry told them pulling at his hair."The ring, the ring that became the Horcrux, Marvolo Gaunt said it had the Peverell coat of arms on it! I saw him waving it in the bloke from the Ministry's face, he nearly shoved it up his nose!"
Hermione's heart started racing. Even if she didn't believe Mr. Lovegood, if what Harry said was true..."The Peverell coat of arms? Could you see what it looked like?"
"Not really," said Harry, "There was nothing fancy on there, as far as I could see; maybe a few scratches. I only ever saw it really close up after it had been cracked open."
Hermione looked at him, surprised, and Ron was looking from one to the other, astonished. "Blimey . . . You reckon it was this sign again? The sign of the Hallows?"
"Why not?" said Harry excitedly. "Marvolo Gaunt was an ignorant old git who lived like a pig, all he cared about was his ancestry. If that ring had been passed down through the centuries, he might not have known what it really was. There were no books in that house, and trust me, he wasn't the type to read fairy tales to his kids. He'd have loved to think the scratches on the stone were a coat of arms, because as far as he was concerned, having pure blood made you practically royal."
"Yes . . . and that's all very interesting," said Hermione cautiously, "but Harry, if you're thinking what I think you're think —"
"Well, why not? Why not?" said Harry. "It was a stone, wasn't it?" He looked at Ron for support. "What if it was the Resurrection Stone?"
Ron's mouth fell open. "Blimey — but would it still work if Dumbledore broke — ?"
Hermione laughed, "Work? Work? Ron, it never worked! There's no such thing as a Resurrection Stone!" Hermione had leapt to her feet, looking exasperated and angry. "Harry, you're trying to fit everything into the Hallows story —"
"Fit everything in?" he repeated. "Hermione, it fits of its own accord! I know the sign of the Deathly Hallows was on that stone! Gaunt said he was descended from the Peverells!"
Hermione inhaled, closing her eyes. "A minute ago, you told us you never saw the mark on the stone properly!" Hermione stated.
"Where d'you reckon the ring is now?" Ron asked Harry. "What did Dumbledore do with it after he broke it open?"
Hermione watched Harry, thinking it was as if he wasn't hearing them. "Harry?"
Harry had pulled out his Invisibility Cloak and was running it through his fingers. Hermione could almost see the gears in his brain turning, then he gasped.
"Dumbledore had my Cloak the night my parents died!" His voice shook, "My mum told Sirius that Dumbledore borrowed the Cloak! This is why! He wanted to examine it, because he thought it was the third Hallow! Ignotus Peverell is buried in Godric's Hollow. . . ."
Hermione watched Harry pace and realized he was putting together her theories himself.
"He's my ancestor! I'm descended from the third brother! It all makes sense!" Harry said, sounding more excited than she had heard him in weeks.
"Harry," said Hermione again, watching him open the moleskin pouch around his neck and pull out his mother's letter. It was taped where he had read it so much that it was nearly torn at the folds.
"Read it," he told her, pushing his mother's letter into her hand. "Read it! Dumbledore had the Cloak, Hermione! Why else would he want it? He didn't need a Cloak, he could perform a Disillusionment Charm so powerful that he made himself completely invisible without one!"
Hermione swallowed back the tears at the desperation in his voice.
Something had fallen to the floor when he pulled out the letter, and Harry stooped to pick it up, "IT'S IN HERE! He left me the ring — it's in the Snitch!" Harry jumped up, holding up the Snitch.
"You — you reckon?" Ron asked as Hermione wiped the tear that had rolled down her face away.
The manic joy that Harry was experiencing suddenly crashed, and his face fell. "That's what he's after." Harry looked at them. "You-Know-Who's after the Elder Wand."
Hermione watched scared as Harry walked to the entrance of the tent and stared at the dark sky. Neither she nor Ron moved as Harry seemed to be talking to himself. Then he turned back into the tent.
"This is it," Harry said, "This explains everything. The Deathly Hallows are real, and I've got one — maybe two —" He held up the Snitch. "— and You-Know-Who's chasing the third, but he doesn't realize . . . he just thinks it's a powerful wand —"
"Harry," said Hermione, moving across to him and handing him back Lily's letter, touching his face, "I'm sorry, but I think you've got this wrong, all wrong."
"But don't you see? It all fits —" Harry told her.
"No, it doesn't," she said. "It doesn't, Harry, you're just getting carried away. Please," she said as he started to speak, "please just answer me this: If the Deathly Hallows really existed, and Dumbledore knew about them, knew that the person who possessed all three of them would be master of Death — Harry, why wouldn't he have told you? Why?"
"But you said it, Hermione! You've got to find out about them for yourself! It's a Quest!" Harry told her.
"But I only said that to try and persuade you to come to the Lovegoods'!" cried Hermione in exasperation. "I didn't really believe it!"
"Dumbledore usually let me find out stuff for myself. He let me try my strength, take risks. This feels like the kind of thing he'd do." Harry nodded as he resumed his pacing.
"Harry, this isn't a game, this isn't practice! This is the real thing, and Dumbledore left you very clear instructions: Find and destroy the Horcruxes! That symbol doesn't mean anything, forget the Deathly Hallows, we can't afford to get sidetracked —" Hermione turned to Ron when she realized Harry wasn't listening, "You don't believe in this, do you?"
Harry looked up. Ron hesitated. "I dunno . . . I mean . . . bits of it sort of fit together," said Ron awkwardly. "But when you look at the whole thing . . ." He took a deep breath. "I think we're supposed to get rid of Horcruxes, Harry. That's what Dumbledore told us to do. Maybe . . . maybe we should forget about this Hallows business."
"Thank you, Ron," said Hermione. "I'll take first watch." And she strode past Harry and sat down in the tent entrance.
That night was a rough night for Hermione. Every noise had her on high alert. As much as she denied it to Harry, as much as she denied it to herself, IF the Hallows were real, it would be a chance for Harry to live and survive. The cloak was the biggest possibility. She had always suspected that the Snitch held something within it. But the chances of the Three Brothers being a true story were so far-fetched that Hermione couldn't believe it.
~*~1st January 1998 ~*~
It all came to a head on New Year's Day. They had gone multiple days on the berries they could find, mushrooms, and fish they had caught. They were tired, hungry, and cranky. Hermione would be the first to admit that her nerves were fried.
Harry had paper with chicken-scratched notes spread out over the table. Words written in bold, scratched out, and garbled.
Hermione had just stressed to him and Ron about the theories about the horcruxes related to Hogwarts founders when Harry told her that she needed to move on from her obsession.
Hermione pivoted and looked at him in disbelief. "Obsession?" said Hermione in a low fierce voice, "We're not the ones with an obsession, Harry! We're the ones trying to do what Dumbledore wanted us to do!"
"'The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death,'" Harry quoted calmly.
"I thought it was You-Know-Who we were supposed to be fighting?" Hermione retorted.
Harry avoided her for a whole two weeks as they moved across the countryside, hiding in the forests and occasionally finding an abandoned barn or building to hide in.
As January rolled through toward the end, something they ate gave Hermione a bad case of food poisoning that had her out of commission for nearly a week. February rolled around, and Hermione found herself going through intense mood swings. Her body was aching since the food poisoning, and her head was in a fog. Her joints protested if she moved them too fast. Ron was torn between Harry, who didn't have his head on straight right now, and her, as she fell apart.
By mid-February, Harry realized that they were falling behind as the wireless told of new families killed, reality finally setting in.
"Three Horcruxes left," he kept saying. "We need a plan of action, come on! Where haven't we looked? Let's go through it again. The orphanage . . ."
Taking out a world map, they charted: Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, the Riddle House, Borgin and Burkes, Albania, every place that they knew Tom Riddle had ever lived or worked, visited or murdered. Ron and Hermione raked over them again, Harry joining in only to stop Hermione pestering him.
"You never know," was Ron's constant refrain. "Upper Flagley is a Wizarding village, he might've wanted to live there. Let's go and have a poke around."
By the end of February, they started small trips into Wizarding territory, bringing them within occasional sight of Snatchers. They had gotten lucky more times than they could count.
By the end of March, they were stir crazy and tensions were high due to a lack of food, news, and no progress in their quest. Harry was avoiding Hermione, Hermione was avoiding Harry, and Ron was confused.
~*~8th April 1998 ~*~
Harry was outside of the tent, getting his distance from her. Hermione was inside, feeling slightly under the weather. A cold had hit her hard, so both boys agreed to do watch duty until she felt better. Hermione sat on the armchair as Ron sat at the table with his radio.
"Some of them are supposed to be as bad as Death Eaters," said Ron. "The lot that got me were a bit pathetic, but Bill reckons some of them are really dangerous. They said on Potterwatch —"
"On what?" said Harry from outside the tent, paying attention to them for the first time that day.
"Potterwatch, didn't I tell you that's what it was called? The program I keep trying to get on the radio, the only one that tells the truth about what's going on! Nearly all the programs are following You-Know-Who's line, all except Potterwatch. I really want you to hear it, but it's tricky tuning in. . . ."
Ron spent evening after evening using his wand to beat out various rhythms on top of the wireless while the dials whirled. Occasionally, they would catch snatches of advice on how to treat dragon pox, and once, a few bars of "A Cauldron Full of Hot Strong Love." While he tapped, Ron continued to try to hit on the correct password, muttering strings of random words under his breath as Hermione sat next to him, nursing a headache.
"They're normally something to do with the Order," he told them. "Bill had a real knack for guessing them. I'm bound to get one in the end. . . ."
Harry was sitting in the tent entrance, on guard duty, when Ron shouted excitedly from inside the tent, waking Hermione from her nap.
"I've got it, I've got it! Password was 'Albus'! Get in here, Harry!" Harry hurried back inside the tent to find Ron and Hermione kneeling on the floor beside the little radio. Hermione was sitting open-mouthed, staring at the tiny speaker, from which a most familiar voice was issuing. ". . . apologize for our temporary absence from the airwaves, which was due to a number of house calls in our area by those charming Death Eaters."
"But that's Lee Jordan!" said Hermione.
"I know!" beamed Ron. "Cool, eh?"
". . . now found ourselves another secure location," Lee was saying, "and I'm pleased to tell you that two of our regular contributors have joined me here this evening. Evening, boys!"
"Hi." "Evening, River."
"'River,' that's Lee," Ron explained. "They've all got code names, but you can usually tell —"
"Shh!" said Hermione.
"But before we hear from Royal and Romulus," Lee went on, "let's take a moment to report those deaths that the Wizarding Wireless Network News and Daily Prophet don't think important enough to mention. It is with great regret that we inform our listeners of the murders of Ted Tonks and Dirk Cresswell."
Hermione's eyes met Harry's, and Hermione felt as if she were going to get sick. Poor Tonks.
"A goblin by the name of Gornuk was also killed. It is believed that Muggle-born Dean Thomas and a second goblin, both believed to have been traveling with Tonks, Cresswell, and Gornuk, may have escaped. If Dean is listening, or if anyone has any knowledge of his whereabouts, his parents and sisters are desperate for news. "Meanwhile, in Gaddley, a Muggle family of five has been found dead in their home. Muggle authorities are attributing the deaths to a gas leak, but members of the Order of the Phoenix inform me that it was the Killing Curse — more evidence, as if it were needed, of the fact that Muggle slaughter is becoming little more than a recreational sport under the new regime. "Finally, we regret to inform our listeners that the remains of Bathilda Bagshot have been discovered in Godric's Hollow. The evidence is that she died several months ago. The Order of the Phoenix informs us that her body showed unmistakable signs of injuries inflicted by Dark Magic. "Listeners, I'd like to invite you now to join us in a minute's silence in memory of Ted Tonks, Dirk Cresswell, Bathilda Bagshot, Gornuk, and the unnamed, but no less regretted, Muggles murdered by the Death Eaters."
Silence fell, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione did not speak.
"Thank you," said Lee's voice. "And now we turn to regular contributor Royal, for an update on how the new Wizarding order is affecting the Muggle world."
"Thanks, River," said an unmistakable voice, deep, measured, reassuring.
"Kingsley!" burst out Ron.
"We know!" said Hermione, hushing him.
"Muggles remain ignorant of the source of their suffering as they continue to sustain heavy casualties," said Kingsley. "However, we continue to hear truly inspirational stories of wizards and witches risking their own safety to protect Muggle friends and neighbors, often without the Muggles' knowledge. I'd like to appeal to all our listeners to emulate their example, perhaps by casting a protective charm over any Muggle dwellings in your street. Many lives could be saved if such simple measures are taken."
"And what would you say, Royal, to those listeners who reply that in these dangerous times, it should be 'Wizards first'?" asked Lee.
"I'd say that it's one short step from 'Wizards first' to 'Purebloods first,' and then to 'Death Eaters,'" replied Kingsley. "We're all human, aren't we? Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving."
"Excellently put, Royal, and you've got my vote for Minister of Magic if ever we get out of this mess," said Lee. "And now, over to Romulus for our popular feature 'Pals of Potter.'"
"Thanks, River," said another very familiar voice; Ron started to speak, but Hermione forestalled him in a whisper. "We know it's Lupin!"
"Romulus, do you maintain, as you have every time you've appeared on our program, that Harry Potter is still alive?"
"I do," said Lupin firmly. "There is no doubt at all in my mind that his death would be proclaimed as widely as possible by the Death Eaters if it had happened, because it would strike a deadly blow at the morale of those resisting the new regime. 'The Boy Who Lived' remains a symbol of everything for which we are fighting: the triumph of good, the power of innocence, the need to keep resisting."
"And what would you say to Harry if you knew he was listening, Romulus?"
"I'd tell him we're all with him in spirit," said Lupin, then hesitated slightly. "And I'd tell him to follow his instincts, which are good and nearly always right."
Hermione felt her chin quiver as tears came to her eyes at his words.
"Nearly always right," she repeated.
"Oh, didn't I tell you?" said Ron in surprise. "Bill told me Lupin's living with Tonks again! And apparently she's getting pretty big too. . . ."
". . . and our usual update on those friends of Harry Potter's who are suffering for their allegiance?" Lee was saying. "Well, as regular listeners will know, several of the more outspoken supporters of Harry Potter have now been imprisoned, including Xenophilius Lovegood, erstwhile editor of The Quibbler," said Lupin.
"At least he's still alive!" muttered Ron.
"We have also heard within the last few hours that Rubeus Hagrid" — all three of them gasped, and so nearly missed the rest of the sentence — "well-known gamekeeper at Hogwarts School, has narrowly escaped arrest within the grounds of Hogwarts, where he is rumored to have hosted a 'Support Harry Potter' party in his house. However, Hagrid was not taken into custody, and is, we believe, on the run."
"I suppose it helps, when escaping from Death Eaters, if you've got a sixteen-foot-high half brother?" asked Lee.
"It would tend to give you an edge," agreed Lupin gravely.
"May I just add that while we here at Potterwatch applaud Hagrid's spirit, we would urge even the most devoted of Harry's supporters against following Hagrid's lead. 'Support Harry Potter' parties are unwise in the present climate."
"Indeed they are, Romulus," said Lee, "so we suggest that you continue to show your devotion to the man with the lightning scar by listening to Potterwatch! And now let's move to news concerning the wizard who is proving just as elusive as Harry Potter. We like to refer to him as the Chief Death Eater, and here to give his views on some of the more insane rumors circulating about him, I'd like to introduce a new correspondent: Rodent."
"'Rodent'?" said yet another familiar voice, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione cried out together.
"Fred!" "No — is it George?" "It's Fred, I think," said Ron, leaning in closer, as whichever twin it was said, "I'm not being 'Rodent,' no way, I told you I wanted to be 'Rapier'!"
"Oh, all right then. 'Rapier,' could you please give us your take on the various stories we've been hearing about the Chief Death Eater?"
"Yes, River, I can," said Fred. "As our listeners will know, unless they've taken refuge at the bottom of a garden pond or somewhere similar, You-Know-Who's strategy of remaining in the shadows is creating a nice little climate of panic. Mind you, if all the alleged sightings of him are genuine, we must have a good nineteen You-Know-Whos running around the place."
"Which suits him, of course," said Kingsley. "The air of mystery is creating more terror than actually showing himself."
"Agreed," said Fred. "So, people, let's try and calm down a bit. Things are bad enough without inventing stuff as well. For instance, this new idea that You-Know-Who can kill with a single glance from his eyes. That's a basilisk, listeners. One simple test: Check whether the thing that's glaring at you has got legs. If it has, it's safe to look into its eyes, although if it really is You-Know-Who, that's still likely to be the last thing you ever do."
For the first time in weeks and weeks, Harry was laughing. Hermione looked at him as if he were crazy.
"And the rumors that he keeps being sighted abroad?" asked Lee.
"Well, who wouldn't want a nice little holiday after all the hard work he's been putting in?" asked Fred. "Point is, people, don't get lulled into a false sense of security, thinking he's out of the country. Maybe he is, maybe he isn't, but the fact remains he can move faster than Severus Snape confronted with shampoo when he wants to, so don't count on him being a long way away if you're planning on taking any risks. I never thought I'd hear myself say it, but safety first!"
"Thank you very much for those wise words, Rapier," said Lee. "Listeners, that brings us to the end of another Potterwatch. We don't know when it will be possible to broadcast again, but you can be sure we shall be back. Keep twiddling those dials: The next password will be 'Mad-Eye.' Keep each other safe: Keep faith. Good night."
Hermione's heart still raced, and hearing that their friends were safe made her feel dizzy with excitement.
"Good, eh?" said Ron happily.
"Brilliant," said Harry.
"It's so brave of them," sighed Hermione admiringly. "If they were found . . ."
"Well, they keep on the move, don't they?" said Ron. "Like us."
"But did you hear what Fred said?" asked Harry excitedly. "He's abroad! He's still looking for the Wand, I knew it!"
Hermione sighed, "Harry —"
"Come on, Hermione, why are you so determined not to admit it? Vol —"
Hermione gasped as Ron yelled, "HARRY, NO!"
"— demort's after the Elder Wand!" Harry stated.
"The name's Taboo!" Ron bellowed, leaping to his feet as a loud crack sounded outside the tent. "I told you, Harry, I told you, we can't say it anymore — we've got to put the protection back around us — quickly — it's how they find —"
But Ron stopped talking, and Harry knew why. The Sneakoscope on the table had lit up and begun to spin; they could hear voices coming nearer and nearer: rough, excited voices. Ron pulled the Deluminator out of his pocket and clicked it: Their lamps went out.
"Come out of there with your hands up!" came a rasping voice through the darkness. "We know you're in there! You've got half a dozen wands pointing at you and we don't care who we curse!"
Hermione looked at Harry with blind panic. Even in the darkness, she knew they were screwed. There was a big possibility that there was an anti-apparation ward going up and they wouldn't escape. Maybe just maybe they could get out of this, if they were as stupid as Ron said. Looking at Harry, she knew he was too recognizable. Pointing her wand at him, she fired off the first spell she could think of. White light filled the space from her wand as it hit Harry in the face.
He buckled in agony. Hermione, kneeling in front of him, feeling his face, quickly pulled him in for a kiss in the dark, feeling his lips already swelling. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Get up, vermin." Someone in the darkness stated as they grabbed at Harry.
Another grabbed Hermione and pulled her to her feet.
"Hello, beautiful," the man said as he touched her face.
"Get — off — her!" Ron shouted, pulling away from the Snatcher who had him, and punching the Snatcher who had grabbed her.
The two Snatchers ganged up on him as one held him and the other punched his stomach.
Hermione screamed, "No! Leave him alone, leave him alone!"
"Your boyfriend's going to have worse than that done to him if he's on my list," said the horribly familiar, rasping voice that made Hermione's stomach churn. "Delicious girl . . . What a treat . . . I do enjoy the softness of the skin. . . ."
"Search the tent!" said another as Harry and Ron were thrown to the ground as they held her.
Hermione's heart raced as Greyback inched closer to Harry.
"Now, let's see who we've got," said Greyback as he rolled Harry onto his back. "I'll be needing butterbeer to wash this one down. What happened to you, ugly?"
Harry did not answer immediately. "I said," repeated Greyback, and Harry received a blow to the diaphragm that made him double over, "what happened to you?"
"Stung," Harry muttered. "Been stung."
"Yeah, looks like it," said the man holding Hermione.
"What's your name?" snarled Greyback.
Hermione sucked in a breath.
"Dudley," said Harry.
"And your first name?"
"I — Vernon. Vernon Dudley."
"Check the list, Scabior," said Greyback as he turned to Ron, "And what about you, ginger?"
"Stan Shunpike," said Ron.
"Like 'ell you are," said the man called Scabior, who was holding her. "We know Stan Shunpike, 'e's put a bit of work our way."
She tried not to cry out as he punched Ron.
"I'b Bardy," said Ron, "Bardy Weadley."
"A Weasley?" rasped Greyback. "So you're related to blood traitors even if you're not a Mudblood. And lastly, your pretty little friend . . ."
Hermione's skin felt like it was crawling as Greyback came closer to her.
"Easy, Greyback," said Scabior over the jeering of the others.
"Oh, I'm not going to bite just yet. We'll see if she's a bit quicker at remembering her name than Barny. Who are you, girly?" Greyback asked, running his finger down her cheek.
"Penelope Clearwater," said Hermione confidently.
"What's your blood status?" Greyback asked.
"Half-blood," said Hermione, glancing at Harry.
"Easy enough to check," said Scabior. "But the 'ole lot of 'em look like they could still be 'ogwarts age —"
"We'b lebt," said Ron.
"Left, 'ave you, ginger?" said Scabior. "And you decided to go camping? And you thought, just for a laugh, you'd use the Dark Lord's name?"
"Nod a laugh," said Ron. "Aggiden."
"Accident?"
"You know who used to like using the Dark Lord's name, Weasley?" growled Greyback. "The Order of the Phoenix. Mean anything to you?"
"Doh."
"Well, they don't show the Dark Lord proper respect, so the name's been Tabooed. A few Order members have been tracked that way. We'll see. Bind them up with the other two prisoners!" Greyback yelled.
Hermione hissed as she was grabbed by her hair and was bound back-to-back with Ron on a trailer. Harry was dragged against her, and she reached for his hand, squeezing it.
"Anyone still got a wand?" Harry whispered.
"No," both she and Ron told him.
"This is all my fault. I said the name, I'm sorry —" Harry swore.
"Harry?" A new voice asked, and Hermione squinted in the darkness, seeing him to her left.
"Dean?" Harry asked.
"It is you! If they find out who they've got — ! They're Snatchers, they're only looking for truants to sell for gold —" Dean said as Hermione squeezed Harry's hand tighter and hushed Dean as Greyback came close to them.
"Not a bad little haul for one night," Greyback said.
Hermione tried not to groan out loud as they heard more crashes from inside the tent.
"A Mudblood, a runaway goblin, and three truants. You checked their names on the list yet, Scabior?" he roared.
"Yeah. There's no Vernon Dudley on 'ere, Greyback." Scabior stated.
"Interesting," said Greyback as he walked closer to them. "That's interesting."
He crouched down beside Harry, "So you aren't wanted, then, Vernon? Or are you on that list under a different name? What House were you in at Hogwarts?"
"Slytherin," said Harry automatically.
"Funny 'ow they all thinks we wants to 'ear that," jeered Scabior out of the shadows. "But none of 'em can tell us where the common room is."
"It's in the dungeons," said Harry clearly. "You enter through the wall. It's full of skulls and stuff, and it's under the lake, so the light's all green."
Hermione swallowed down the bile that rose into her mouth as they looked at each other, then at Harry again.
"Well, well, looks like we really 'ave caught a little Slytherin," said Scabior. "Good for you, Vernon, 'cause there ain't a lot of Mudblood Slytherins. Who's your father?"
"He works at the Ministry," Harry lied. "Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes."
"You know what, Greyback," said Scabior. "I think there is a Dudley in there."
"Well, well," said Greyback, "If you're telling the truth, ugly, you've got nothing to fear from a trip to the Ministry. I expect your father'll reward us just for picking you up."
"But," said Harry, his mouth bone dry, "if you just let us —"
"Hey!" came a shout from inside the tent. "Look at this, Greyback!"
Hermione moaned as one of them came out of the tent with Gryffindor's sword.
"Ve-e-ry nice," said Greyback appreciatively, taking it from his companion. "Oh, very nice indeed. Looks goblin-made, that. Where did you get something like this?"
"It's my father's," Harry lied, "We borrowed it to cut firewood —"
"'ang on a minute, Greyback! Look at this, in the Prophet!" As Scabior said, Harry groaned, and his head lolled onto Hermione's shoulder. Not now, she thought, knowing that his mind was with Voldemort.
"''ermione Granger,'" Scabior was saying, "'the Mudblood who is known to be traveling with 'arry Potter.'"
Hermione dared not breathe as Greyback knelt in front of her.
"You know what, little girly? This picture looks a hell of a lot like you."
"It isn't! It isn't me!" Hermione squeaked out.
. "' . . . known to be traveling with Harry Potter,'" repeated Greyback quietly. "Well, this changes things, doesn't it?" whispered Greyback. Hermione tried not to puke at the smell he was giving off. "What's that on your forehead, Vernon?" he asked softly,
"Don't touch it!" Harry yelled as Greyback touched him
"I thought you wore glasses, Potter?" breathed Greyback.
"I found glasses!" yelped one of the Snatchers skulking in the background. "There was glasses in the tent, Greyback, wait —"
And seconds later, Harry's glasses had been rammed back onto his face. The Snatchers were closing in now, peering at them.
. "It is!" rasped Greyback. "We've caught Potter!"
Hermione moaned as she sagged against Harry.
They all took several steps backward and started talking between them.
". . . to the Ministry?" "To hell with the Ministry," growled Greyback. "They'll take the credit, and we won't get a look in. I say we take him straight to You-Know-Who." "Will you summon 'im? 'ere?" said Scabior, sounding awed, terrified. "No," snarled Greyback, "I haven't got — they say he's using the Malfoys' place as a base. We'll take the boy there." ". . . completely sure it's him? 'Cause if it ain't, Greyback, we're dead." "Who's in charge here?" roared Greyback, covering his moment of inadequacy. "I say that's Potter, and him plus his wand, that's two hundred thousand Galleons right there! But if you're too gutless to come along, any of you, it's all for me, and with any luck, I'll get the girl thrown in!"
Hermione shuddered, and Harry was shaking, but Hermione could tell from his tense muscles that he was seeing what Voldemort was doing.
"All right!" said Scabior. "All right, we're in! And what about the rest of 'em, Greyback, what'll we do with 'em?" "Might as well take the lot. We've got two Mudbloods, that's another ten Galleons. Give me the sword as well. If they're rubies, that's another small fortune right there."
Hermione was dragged to her feet again, and she held strong to Harry until they were separated.
"Grab hold and make it tight. I'll do Potter!" said Greyback, "On three! One — two — three —"
Hermione was squeezed between Ron and Harry, and they all landed in a country lane. The apparition was too much, and Hermione moved forward as much as she could as she vomited.
Scabior swore and waved his wand, cleaning it up. "What was that for?"
"Are you okay?" Ron whispered.
Hermione moved her hand to grab his.
One of the Snatchers strode to the gates and shook them. "How do we get in? They're locked, Greyback, I can't — blimey!"
"State your purpose!"
"We've got Potter!" Greyback roared triumphantly. "We've captured Harry Potter!"
Hermione's heart jumped into her throat and raced so fast she was afraid everyone around her could hear it.
With a sickening squeal, the gates swung open.
"Come on!" said Greyback to his men, and the prisoners were shunted through the gates and up the drive, between high hedges that muffled their footsteps.
Harry's body sagged again, and Hermione prayed it wasn't because HE was close by.
"What is this?" said a woman's cold voice.
"We're here to see He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" rasped Greyback.
"Who are you?"
"You know me!" There was resentment in the werewolf's voice. "Fenrir Greyback! We've caught Harry Potter!"
Greyback seized Harry and dragged him around to face the light, forcing Hermione and the other prisoners to shuffle around too.
"I know 'e's swollen, ma'am, but it's 'im!" piped up Scabior. "If you look a bit closer, you'll see 'is scar. And this 'ere, see the girl? The Mudblood who's been traveling around with 'im, ma'am. There's no doubt it's 'im, and we've got 'is wand as well! 'Ere, ma'am —"
Hermione tried not to throw up as Narcissa Malfoy came close to Harry and scrutinized his swollen face.
"Bring them in," she said.
Hermione stumbled, still bound to the others, as they were shoved, and Dean was even kicked up stone steps into a hallway lined with portraits of wizards who watched as they walked by.
"Follow me," said Narcissa, leading the way across the hall. "My son, Draco, is home for his Easter holidays. If that is Harry Potter, he will know."
Hermione took in the room they had been brought into, a room with a crystal chandelier and pure opulence that showcased the status of the pureblood family.
"What is this?" Hermione heard Draco's father, Lucius, rise.
"They say they've got Potter," said Narcissa's cold voice. "Draco, come here."
Hermione swallowed hard, grasping at Harry's sweaty hand as it trembled. Watching as a disheveled and taller Draco Malfoy stood next to his father. He was pale and skittish, jumpy even as Greyback pushed them toward Draco for him to get a look at them.
"Well, boy?" rasped the werewolf.
"Well, Draco?" said Lucius Malfoy. He sounded avid. "Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"
Hermione held her breath as Draco came close.
"I can't — I can't be sure," said Draco.
Lucius grabbed onto Draco's overcoat, "But look at him carefully, look! Come closer! Draco, if we are the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv —"
"Now, we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mr. Malfoy?" said Greyback menacingly.
"Of course not, of course not!" said Lucius impatiently. "What did you do to him?" Lucius asked Greyback. "How did he get into this state?"
"That wasn't us."
"Looks more like a Stinging Jinx to me," said Lucius.
His gray eyes raked Harry's forehead. "There's something there," he whispered, "it could be the scar, stretched tight. . . . Draco, come here, look properly! What do you think?"
Hermione saw Draco draw closer and saw fear stretch across his pale face.
"I don't know," he said, and he walked away toward the fireplace where his mother stood watching.
"We had better be certain, Lucius," Narcissa called to her husband in her cold, clear voice. "Completely sure that it is Potter, before we summon the Dark Lord . . . They say this is his" — she was looking closely at the blackthorn wand — "but it does not resemble Ollivander's description. . . . If we are mistaken, if we call the Dark Lord here for nothing . . . Remember what he did to Rowle and Dolohov?"
"What about the Mudblood, then?" growled Greyback.
Hermine inhaled sharply as all eyes were suddenly on her.
"Wait," said Narcissa sharply. "Yes — yes, she was in Madam Malkin's with Potter! I saw her picture in the Prophet! Look, Draco, isn't it the Granger girl?"
"I . . . maybe . . . yeah." Draco said, not looking her in the eye.
"But then, that's the Weasley boy!" shouted Lucius, striding around the bound prisoners to face Ron. "It's them, Potter's friends — Draco, look at him, isn't it Arthur Weasley's son, what's his name — ?"
"Yeah," said Draco again, his back to the prisoners. "It could be."
"What is this? What's happened, Cissy?" Hermione's heart pounded as Bellatrix Lestrange walked slowly around the prisoners and stopped on Harry's right, staring at Hermione through her heavily lidded eyes. "But surely," she said quietly, "this is the Mudblood girl? This is Granger?"
"Yes, yes, it's Granger!" cried Lucius. "And beside her, we think, Potter! Potter and his friends, caught at last!"
"Potter?" shrieked Bellatrix, and she backed away, the better to take in Harry. "Are you sure? Well then, the Dark Lord must be informed at once!"
As she dragged back her left sleeve, Hermione saw the dark mark black against her pale skin.
"I was about to call him!" said Lucius, and his hand actually closed upon Bellatrix's wrist, preventing her from touching the Mark. "I shall summon him, Bella, Potter has been brought to my house, and it is therefore upon my authority —"
"Your authority!" she sneered, attempting to wrench her hand from his grasp. "You lost your authority when you lost your wand, Lucius! How dare you! Take your hands off me!"
"This is nothing to do with you, you did not capture the boy —"
"Begging your pardon, Mr. Malfoy," interjected Greyback, "but it's us that caught Potter, and it's us that'll be claiming the gold —"
"Gold!" laughed Bellatrix, "Take your gold, filthy scavenger, what do I want with gold? I seek only the honor of his — of —" Bellatrix froze. "STOP!" shrieked Bellatrix. "Do not touch it, we shall all perish if the Dark Lord comes now!"
Hermione tried to watch her as she moved away and heard Ron hiss.
"What is that?" she asked.
"Sword," grunted an out-of-sight Snatcher.
"Give it to me," Bellatrix demanded.
"It's not yorn, missus, it's mine, I reckon I found it." One of the Snatchers stated.
With a flash of red, out of the corner of her eye, the man was stunned.
"What d'you think you're playing at, woman?"
"Stupefy!" she screamed. "Stupefy!"
They fell where they stood, except Greyback, who had been forced into a kneeling position, his arms outstretched.
"Where did you get this sword?" she whispered to Greyback as she pulled his wand out of his unresisting grip.
Hermione gasped as she realized why Bellatrix was so upset.
"How dare you?" he snarled, "Release me, woman!"
"Where did you find this sword?" she repeated, brandishing it in his face. "Snape sent it to my vault in Gringotts!"
Hermione heard Harry inhale at the same time she did.
"It was in their tent," rasped Greyback. "Release me, I say!"
"Draco, move this scum outside," said Bellatrix, indicating the unconscious men. "If you haven't got the guts to finish them, then leave them in the courtyard for me."
"Don't you dare speak to Draco like —" said Narcissa furiously, but Bellatrix screamed, "Be quiet! The situation is graver than you can possibly imagine, Cissy! We have a very serious problem!" She stood, panting slightly, looking down at the sword, examining its hilt. Then she turned to look at the silent prisoners. "If it is indeed Potter, he must not be harmed," she muttered, more to herself than to the others. "The Dark Lord wishes to dispose of Potter himself. . . . But if he finds out . . . I must . . . I must know. . . ." She turned back to her sister again. "The prisoners must be placed in the cellar, while I think what to do!"
"This is my house, Bella, you don't give orders in my —"
"Do it! You have no idea of the danger we are in!" shrieked Bellatrix.
Narcissa hesitated for a moment, then addressed the werewolf. "Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback."
"Wait," said Bellatrix sharply. "All except . . . except for the Mudblood."
Greyback gave a grunt of pleasure, and Harry grabbed her hand tightly.
"No!" shouted Ron. "You can have me, keep me!"
Bellatrix hit him across the face, "If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next," she said. "Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book. Take them downstairs, Greyback, and make sure they are secure, but do nothing more to them — yet."
Hermione fell forward as feeling returned to her legs, and she was cut free. Only Harry, holding her hand, kept her from falling forward. Gasping as Bellatrix grabbed her hair, she pulled her way from Harry and the others. Hissing as Bellatrix pulled her hair tight, as the others were taken from the room.
Bellatrix threw her to the floor in front of the fireplace. "Where did you get this?"
"We found it," Hermione told her, looking her square in the eye, "In the Forest."
"Crucio!"
Hermione screamed as if her body were on fire. Because it felt as if it were. Finally, the spell was lifted, and she relaxed.
"I will ask you one more time, where did you get it?" Bellatrix yelled, her foul-smelling breath in Hermione's face as Hermione panted.
"I swear it, in a pond in the forest. I swear!" Hermione sobbed.
Bellatrix slapped her across the face, and Hermione tasted her own blood. "I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?"
"We found it — we found it — PLEASE!" Hermione screamed.
Bellatrix grabbed her by the hair, pulling her up to see eye to eye with her. "You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth, tell the truth!"
Hermione went to open her mouth, and Bellatrix brought the knife in her hand to her throat. Hermione screamed, "No, please no!"
"What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or, I swear, I shall run you through with this knife!" Bellatrix asked, spit covering Hermione's face, mixing with her tears.
"Nothing, I swear it!" Hermione sobbed.
The knife cut further into her skin, and Hermione screamed out. The pain was spreading through her.
"What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!"
Hermione screamed as the spell hit her again, her skin feeling as if it were splitting in half.
"How did you get into my vault?" Bellatrix screamed. "Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?"
"We only met him tonight!" Hermione sobbed. "We've never been inside your vault. . . . It isn't the real sword! It's a copy, just a copy!"
"A copy?" screeched Bellatrix, slapping her across the face again. "Oh, a likely story!"
"But we can find out easily!" Lucius stated. "Draco, fetch the goblin, he can tell us whether the sword is real or not!"
Bellatrix cast a Crucio on her again. The pain was all-consuming… until it wasn't.
"What is this!?" Bellatrix asked, "How are you doing this?"
It was as if Hermione was leaving her body. Opening her eyes, she saw a shimmering shield all around her.
"It's her magic, it is attempting to protect her," Lucius stated, "I've only seen it a few times before."
Hermione moaned as Bellatrix took her by the hair after she couldn't hold whatever her magic was doing anymore.
"Who did you take the magic from? You filthy mudblood!" Bellatrix asked, "Whose magic did you steal?"
"No one," Hermione sobbed as Bellatrix fired a cutting hex at her, and she screamed out as it cut her cheek. "Please, we didn't take it from you!"
Bellatrix pressed her wand to Hermione's throat, and pain surged through her throat as if the wand was sinking into it. She screamed out, garbled as more blood came to her mouth, as she threw up the contents of her stomach.
Then it stopped again as a crack echoed around the room.
"What was that?" shouted Lucius. "Did you hear that? What was that noise in the cellar?" .
Hermione sagged to the ground as Bellatrix let go of her, and she collapsed to the ground. Hovering at the edge of unconsciousness, through her tears, she saw Draco move forward toward where they had taken Harry and Ron.
"Draco — no, call Wormtail! Make him go and check!" Lucius commanded.
Harry's father's ex-best friend was looking awful as ever, balding in spots and unhealthy. The silver hand he now wore reflected the light into her eyes, making her headache surge as she sagged in exhaustion.
Hermione's eyes were fluttering shut when Lucius yelled, "What is it, Wormtail?"
As if she were far away, Bellatrix said, "Well?" Bellatrix said, "Is it the true sword?"
"No," said Griphook. "It is a fake."
"Are you sure?" panted Bellatrix. "Quite sure?"
"Yes," said the goblin.
"Good," she said as Hermione's body buzzed along with her hearing, and she closed her eyes, losing consciousness.
The next time she opened her eyes, it was because of the pain surging through her body. As if she were a marionette, someone was supporting her body, but she felt like a ragdoll as any movement made the pain in her muscles surge. She tried her best to relax her muscles and not tense them until she felt something cold against her neck.
"STOP OR SHE DIES!" Bellatrix yelled in her ear.
Hermione did not dare move or speak.
"Drop your wands," she whispered. "Drop them, or we'll see exactly how filthy her blood is!"
"I said, drop them!" she screeched, pressing the blade into Hermione's throat, and Hermione lost consciousness again.
Briefly regaining consciousness after another surge of pain, Hermione's blurry eyes opened to see a protective shield around her as she stared up at the same chandelier that was now surrounding her body.
"Elf!" Bellatrix shouted. "How dare you protect that mudblood!"
Someone seized her hand and pulled her out from under the chandelier. She moaned as red hair cradled her head and heard Harry yell, "Stupefy!"
"Oh, Hermione," Ron said, running his hand over her head.
"Dobby!" she screamed, and even Bellatrix froze. "You! You dropped the chandelier — ?"
"You must not hurt Harry Potter and his girl," he squeaked.
"Kill him, Cissy!" shrieked Bellatrix, but there was another loud crack.
"You dirty little monkey!" bawled Bellatrix. "How dare you take a witch's wand, how dare you defy your masters?"
"Dobby has no master!" squealed the elf. "Dobby is a free elf, and Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!"
"Ron, catch — and GO! Get her out of here!" Harry yelled.
Hermione felt as if the world was closing in on her. Breath left her lungs, pain surged through her body, and then she could take a full breath again. Salty air filled her lungs. Closing her eyes and relaxing, she realized that under the stars in the sky, she was safe.
"Hermione, Merlin, are you alright?" Ron asked, and she moaned as he jostled her.
"Are you all right?" She heard Harry say in the not-too-distant distance. Relieved, she was about to let unconsciousness take over when she heard, "DOBBY!"
"Bloody Hell, Harry. Is that a knife?" Ron asked, pulling her up.
As she lost the battle, she heard Harry yell, "Dobby — no — HELP! HELP us, she needs help too! Oh God, Hermione...."
*Rowling, J.K.. Harry Potter: The Complete Collection (1-7). Pottermore Publishing. Kindle Edition.
Preview of Chapter 10 – Deliverance
Harry didn't move as she sat down beside him.
"Why are you brooding?" she asked softly.
Harry didn't answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and hoarse. "This is all my fault. You got hurt, and it's all my fault. You should hate me."
Hermione blinked, her heart clenching in her chest. "Seriously? No. It was Bellatrix. She did this, not you. You didn't hurt me, Harry. And I'm… I'm starting to feel better already."
He finally looked at her, "I'm tired of fighting, Hermione. I'm tired of running. I'm watching everyone I care about get hurt. Can we go back to the Forest of Dean… you and me… and hide away for the rest of our lives?"
The ache in his voice broke her heart. Reaching out, she took his hand gently in hers. It was cold, and she squeezed it.
"Oh, Harry," she murmured, "I wish we could."
He leaned forward, and their foreheads met. Hermione felt his breath mingling with hers. The world around them faded until it was only the two of them. Then his lips brushed hers. Barely a whisper of what they shared. Hermione craved more.