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.
I see your face with every punch I take
And every bone I break
It's all for you
And my worst pains are words I cannot say
Still, I will always fight on for you
~ Gifts and Curses by Yellowcard
~*~1st May 1998 ~*~
The ache in Hermione's lower back pulled her from sleep before the first rays of the sun, and even started over the horizon. The narrow bed she was in groaned as she shifted, stretching her legs and rolling her neck. Her lower back was stiff, and her muscles felt tight. Healing or not, something still felt off.
The room was quiet. Luna was curled up under her patchwork quilt, sleeping peacefully, hands tucked under her cheek. Hermione moved carefully, grabbing her dressing robe from the bedpost. She wrapped it around her and glanced over at the small table near the window. The objects there haunted her. A vial of thick, coarse black hairs, curly like her own. Sitting beside a wand she refused to touch until necessary. The sight of it even made her skin crawl. Just the sight of it felt sinister. It lay beside a gown that she would wear, a black velvet corseted dress, similar to what Bellatrix had worn in the past.
Hermione reached for the vial, checking the stopper as if the stopper coming out would spew the evil contained within. Returning it to the table, her fingers nearly skimmed the wand. Revulsion seized her. As if touching it too early would let it claim her.
Her gaze dropped to her arm.
The scars were nearly gone now, thanks to Bill's curse-breaking experience and Fleur's application of dittany and other potions. The word 'mudblood' could still be seen by her, seeming to rise beneath the surface like ink bleeding. No amount of healing would ever take that away.
Pulling her dressing gown tighter, she slipped out of the room. Downstairs, the house was quiet. The low hum of the sea was barely heard over Ron's snoring. The kitchen was dim, the fire low in the fireplace. She padded across the floor to the cooling box, hoping that a warm glass of milk might lull her back to sleep for the last two hours before they had to prepare for their mission.
"Can't sleep?"
Hermione turned. In her exhaustion, she had missed Harry sitting at the table, a mug cupped in both hands, steam curling from the surface. She shook her head and offered a tired smile. "No. Back pain, nerves. You?"
"Too many things to worry about," Harry murmured.
She nodded in understanding. Opening the cooling box, the cold air washed over her, and it grounded her. Lying her forehead against the door, she inhaled. "I know it makes sense," she stated quietly. "I know it's logical, but…" Her voice was trembling. "Knowing that today I will become Bellatrix… it scares me."
Behind her, the chair scraped against the tiles, and bare feet slapped across the kitchen. Gently, his hand came to her shoulder. Turning under his touch, she didn't open her eyes.
"Look at me," Harry said.
Opening them, she looked at him.
"You will never be her," he said firmly. "I'm sorry we didn't think about what this might do to you. I didn't think."
She shook her head. "It's not about that. You under the cloak is vital. Ron posing as a Snatcher… makes the most sense. That only leaves me. I'm trying to see it as… retribution, infiltrating her vault, and taking something back. But the thought of being in her skin, Harry…" she trailed off as her voice broke.
Harry lifted his hand and cupped her cheek. His palm was warm. "It's your skin, pretending to be hers. You. And honestly…" he cracked a smile, "If Bellatrix ever found out you'd used her hair to break into her vault, she'd be so repulsed. I think it's kind of brilliant."
Hermione gave a small laugh, leaning subtly into his touch. "Harry… I-"
The creak of a stair interrupted her. Harry stepped back from her like he'd been shocked.
Hermione blinked as Fleur entered the kitchen, tying her dressing gown at her waist.
"Couldn't sleep?" she asked them.
Hermione cleared her throat and stepped away from the cooling box. "I think I'll go back up, try for another hour if I can."
Fleur nodded, then turned to Harry. "Would you help me with breakfast?"
Harry didn't even glance at Hermione as he moved to join Fleur at the counter.
Hermione hovered in the doorway. Looking back once, she watched Harry crack an egg against a bowl with unnecessary force. Sighing, she turned away.
Hermione stepped out of her bedroom in Bill and Fleur's home wearing the Victorian-style dress. The boys were going to meet her in the back garden. Quietly, she slipped out the back door. The air was chilly, but the wind wasn't blowing.
She was staring at the stars when the back door opened again. Ron dressed in Bill's old cloak and some old clothes that were found from someone at some time who had been at Shell Cottage. Harry glanced at her. She could tell he was in his leader mode, but swallowed briefly as she watched his Adam's apple bob as he looked away toward where they had buried Dobby. Not wanting to be stared at, she slipped back inside the house. With a silencing charm cast on the downstairs, she opened the flask, frowning at the contents inside. Taking a breath, she tipped it back.
It felt different than her other transformations. The taste was so revolting that she nearly vomited. It felt like fire spreading through her veins, but once it reached her abdomen, the fire raced down her sides, avoiding her stomach. All but confirming to her the internal nerve damage that she had suffered.
When the fire had stopped spreading, Griphook appeared. "I fear this may not be enough."
Hermione didn't reply as she opened the back door. Stepping out onto the lawn, she tucked her beaded bag into the pocket of a set of robes that she had shoved into her bag at Grimmauld Place, which she wore over the dress.
Hermione shivered, seeing the revulsion on Harry's face when seeing her. She was glad that she hadn't looked in a mirror."She tasted disgusting, worse than Gurdyroots!" Hermione looked at Ron, "Okay, Ron, come here so I can do you. . . ."
Ron frowned, walking closer to her, "Right, but remember, I don't like the beard too long —"
Hermione sighed, exasperated. "Oh, for heaven's sake, this isn't about looking handsome —"
"It's not that, it gets in the way!" Ron stated as Hermione transfigured his face, then showed him a mirror, "But I liked my nose a bit shorter, try and do it the way you did last time."
Hermione sighed and set to work, muttering under her breath as she transformed various aspects of Ron's appearance. "There," said Hermione, "how does he look, Harry?"
She had transformed Ron's hair, making it long and wavy. He now had a long, thick, brown beard and mustache, no freckles, a short, broad nose, and heavy eyebrows.
"Well, he's not my type, but he'll do," said Harry. "Shall we go, then?"
Hermione glanced at the cottage under the fading stars and sighed. Together, they began to walk toward the point, just beyond the boundary wall, where the Fidelius Charm stopped working and they would be able to Disapparate.
Once past the gate, Griphook spoke. "I should climb up now, Harry Potter, I think?"
Harry bent down, and the goblin clambered onto his back, his hands linked in front of Harry's throat. Hermione pulled the Invisibility Cloak out of the beaded bag and threw it over them both.
"Perfect," she said, bending down to check Harry's feet, noticing how tight the corset was on her stomach. "I can't see a thing. Let's go."
Hermione disapparated and nearly lost her balance as she landed on the edge of the sidewalk. In the doorway of the Leaky Cauldron, a wizard was walking inside. She felt someone brush against her as Ron walked up to her. Together, they entered the bar.
Tom was polishing glasses behind the bar counter; a couple of warlocks having a muttered conversation in the far corner glanced at Hermione and drew back into the shadows.
"Madam Lestrange," murmured Tom, and as Hermione passed, he inclined his head subserviently.
"Good morning," said Hermione, and she nearly groaned, realizing how friendly she sounded.
"Too polite," Harry whispered in Hermione's ear, making her shiver as they walked out to the tiny backyard. "You need to treat people like they're scum!"
Hermione felt her magic pulsing under her skin as anger flared within her. "Okay, okay!" Hermione drew out Bellatrix's wand and tapped a brick in the nondescript wall in front of them.
At once, the bricks began to whirl and spin: A hole appeared in the middle of them, which grew wider and wider, finally forming an archway onto the narrow cobbled street that was Diagon Alley. It was quiet, barely time for the shops to open, and there were hardly any shoppers abroad.
The alley felt different immediately. More shops than ever were boarded up, though several new establishments dedicated to the Dark Arts had been created.
Hermione felt a sense of foreboding as Harry's face glared down at them from posters plastered over many windows, always captioned with the words UNDESIRABLE NUMBER ONE.
Taking a breath, she started for Gringotts. A number of ragged people sat huddled in doorways, moaning to the few passersby, pleading for gold, insisting that they were really wizards. One man had a bloody bandage over his eye.
Walking along the street, the beggars glimpsed Hermione. They seemed to melt away before her, drawing hoods over their faces and fleeing as fast as they could. Hermione looked after them curiously, until the man with the bloodied bandage came staggering right across her path.
"My children!" he bellowed, pointing at her. His voice was cracked, high-pitched; he sounded distraught. "Where are my children? What has he done with them? You know, you know!"
Hermione's heart jumped into her throat. "I — I really —" stammered Hermione.
The man lunged at her, reaching for her throat: Then, with a bang and a burst of red light, he was thrown backward onto the ground, unconscious. Ron stood there, his wand still outstretched and a look of shock visible behind his beard.
Faces appeared at the windows on either side of the street, while a little knot of prosperous-looking passersby gathered their robes about them and broke into gentle trots, keen to vacate the scene. Their entrance into Diagon Alley could hardly have been more conspicuous.
"Why, Madam Lestrange!"
Hermione drew herself up as tall and sure as she could. Thinking of Bellatrix, she tried to be as cold as she could. "And what do you want?"
The man stopped in his tracks, clearly affronted.
Suddenly, Harry whispered in her ear, "He's another Death Eater named Travers!"
"I merely sought to greet you," said Travers coolly, "but if my presence is not welcome . . ."
"No, no, not at all, Travers," said Hermione quickly, trying to cover up her mistake. "How are you?"
"Well, I confess I am surprised to see you out and about, Bellatrix." Travers said suspiciously.
"Really? Why?" asked Hermione.
"Well," Travers coughed, "I heard that the inhabitants of Malfoy Manor were confined to the house, after the . . . ah . . . escape."
Hermione folded her arms over her chest and glared at the man, "The Dark Lord forgives those who have served him most faithfully in the past," said Hermione, "Perhaps your credit is not as good with him as mine is, Travers."
Offended, he glanced down at the man Ron had just Stunned. "How did it offend you?"
"It does not matter, it will not do so again," said Hermione coolly.
"Some of these wandless can be troublesome," said Travers. "While they do nothing but beg I have no objection, but one of them actually asked me to plead her case at the Ministry last week. 'I'm a witch, sir, I'm a witch, let me prove it to you!'" he said in a squeaky impersonation. "As if I was going to give her my wand — but whose wand," said Travers curiously, "are you using at the moment, Bellatrix? I heard that your own was —"
"I have my wand here," said Hermione coldly, her heart beating in her throat, holding up Bellatrix's wand. "I don't know what rumors you have been listening to, Travers, but you seem sadly misinformed."
Travers seemed a little taken aback at that, and he turned instead to Ron. "Who is your friend? I do not recognize him."
"This is Dragomir Despard," said Hermione, "He speaks very little English, but he is in sympathy with the Dark Lord's aims. He has traveled here from Transylvania to see our new regime."
"Indeed? How do you do, Dragomir?"
"'Ow you?" said Ron, holding out his hand.
Travers extended two fingers and shook Ron's hand as though frightened of dirtying himself. "So what brings you and your — ah — sympathetic friend to Diagon Alley this early?" asked Travers.
"I need to visit Gringotts," said Hermione.
"Alas, I also," said Travers. "Gold, filthy gold! We cannot live without it, yet I confess I deplore the necessity of consorting with our long-fingered friends." He looked at her as if he could see through her. "Shall we?" said Travers, gesturing Hermione forward.
Hermione had no choice but to fall into step beside him and head along the crooked, cobbled street toward the place where the snowy-white Gringotts stood towering over the other little shops. Ron sloped along beside them. All too soon they arrived at the foot of the marble steps leading up to the great bronze doors.
Two wizards, just as Griphook warned, stood at the entrance, both of whom were clutching long, thin golden rods.
"Ah, Probity Probes," sighed Travers theatrically, "so crude — but effective!" And he set off up the steps, nodding left and right to the wizards, who raised the golden rods and passed them up and down his body.
Hermione's long black hair rippled behind her as she climbed the steps. "One moment, madam," said the guard, raising his Probe.
"But you've just done that!" said Hermione in Bellatrix's commanding, arrogant voice.
Travers looked around, eyebrows raised. The guard was confused. He stared down at the thin golden Probe and then at his companion, who said in a slightly dazed voice, "Yeah, you've just checked them, Marius."
Hermione swept forward, Ron by her side. Hermione, Ron, and Travers headed toward an old goblin who was examining a thick gold coin through an eyeglass. Hermione allowed Travers to step ahead of her on the pretext of explaining features of the hall to Ron.
The goblin tossed the coin he was holding aside, said to nobody in particular, "Leprechaun," and then greeted Travers, who passed over a tiny golden key, which was examined and given back to him.
Hermione stepped forward. "Madam Lestrange!" said the goblin, evidently startled. "Dear me! How — how may I help you today?"
"I wish to enter my vault," said Hermione.
The old goblin seemed to recoil a little. "You have . . . identification?" asked the goblin.
"Identification? I — I have never been asked for identification before!" said Hermione, panicking inside but acting appalled.
"Your wand will do, madam," said the goblin.
Swallowing hard, Hermione handed it over.
The goblin took Bellatrix's wand, examined it closely, and then said, "Ah, you have had a new wand made, Madam Lestrange!"
"What?" said Hermione cooly. "No, no, that's mine —"
"A new wand?" said Travers, approaching the counter again; still the goblins all around were watching. "But how could you have done, which wandmaker did you use?" Hermione saw his eyes glaze over. "Oh yes, I see," said Travers, looking down at Bellatrix's wand, "yes, very handsome. And is it working well? I always think wands require a little breaking in, don't you?"
Hermione looked confused, but looked at the goblin.
The old goblin behind the counter clapped his hands and a younger goblin approached. "I shall need the Clankers," he told the goblin, who dashed away and returned a moment later with a leather bag that seemed to be full of jangling metal, which he handed to his senior. "Good, good! So, if you will follow me, Madam Lestrange," said the old goblin, hopping down off his stool and vanishing from sight, "I shall take you to your vault."
He appeared around the end of the counter, jogging happily toward them, the contents of the leather bag still jingling.
Travers was now standing quite still with his mouth hanging wide open. Ron was drawing attention to this odd phenomenon by regarding Travers with confusion.
"Wait — Bogrod!" Another goblin came scurrying around the counter. "We have instructions," he said with a bow to Hermione. "Forgive me, Madam, but there have been special orders regarding the vault of Lestrange." He whispered urgently in Bogrod's ear, but the Imperiused goblin shook him off. "I am aware of the instructions. Madam Lestrange wishes to visit her vault . . . Very old family . . . old clients . . . This way, please . . ." And, still clanking, he hurried toward one of the many doors leading off the hall.
Hermione's heart hammered in her chest as Travers came with them, walking meekly in their wake as they reached the door and passed into the rough stone passageway beyond, which was lit with flaming torches.
"We're in trouble; they suspect," said Harry as the door slammed behind them and he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak.
Griphook jumped down from his shoulders; neither Travers nor Bogrod showed the slightest surprise at the sudden appearance of Harry Potter in their midst. Hermione looked at Harry, confused.
"They're Imperiused," he added, "I don't think I did it strongly enough, I don't know. . . ."
"What do we do?" asked Ron. "Shall we get out now, while we can?"
"If we can," said Hermione, looking back toward the door into the main hall, beyond which who knew what was happening.
"We've got this far, I say we go on," said Harry.
"Good!" said Griphook. "So, we need Bogrod to control the cart; I no longer have the authority. But there will not be room for the wizard."
Harry pointed his wand at Travers. "Imperio!" The wizard turned and set off along the dark track at a smart pace.
"What are you making him do?" Hermione asked.
"Hide," said Harry as he pointed his wand at Bogrod, who whistled to summon a little cart that came trundling along the tracks toward them out of the darkness.
They all clambered into it, Bogrod in front with Griphook, Harry, Ron, and Hermione crammed together in the back. With a jerk the cart moved off, gathering speed: They hurtled past Travers, who was wriggling into a crack in the wall, then the cart began twisting and turning through the labyrinthine passages, sloping downward all the time.
The rattling of the cart jarred Hermione's healing bones, making her back and hips flare with pain as her hair flew behind her. She had never been within the caverns of the bank. Seeing stalactites hang from the ceiling of the rock as they raced by. Hermione tried not to close her eyes as she felt nausea creep up on her.
Griphook shouted, "No!" Bringing her attention just in time to the waterfall overhead. Taking a quick breath, the water hit her. Then, with an awful lurch, the cart flipped over, and they were all thrown out of it. Hermione coughed on the water that made it into her lungs as they all fell toward their deaths. Throwing her arm out, she yelled out the cushioning charm, and they all fell carefully to the rocky floor below.
"C-Cushioning Charm," Hermione spluttered at the water in her lungs, as Ron pulled her to her feet.
Harry looked at her, scared, and she looked down. She now stood there in overlarge robes, sopping wet and completely herself; Ron was red-haired and beardless again.
Hermione ran her hands through her wet hair and realized it was her own.
"The Thief's Downfall!" said Griphook, clambering to his feet and looking back at the deluge onto the tracks, which, Harry knew now, had been more than water. "It washes away all enchantment, all magical concealment! They know there are impostors in Gringotts, they have set off defenses against us!"
Hermione reached into the robes that she was wearing and sighed in relief when she still had the beaded bag.
"We need him," said Griphook, "we cannot enter the vault without a Gringotts goblin. And we need the Clankers!"
"Imperio!" Harry said again, making Hermione's head snap up.
His voice echoed through the stone passage as Bogrod submitted once more to his will, his befuddled expression changing to one of polite indifference.
Ron hurried to pick up the leather bag of metal tools, and Hermione heard footsteps. People were running toward them.
"Harry, I think I can hear people coming!" said Hermione, and she pointed Bellatrix's wand at the waterfall and cried, "Protego!" They saw the Shield Charm break the flow of enchanted water as it flew up the passageway.
"Good thinking," said Harry. "Lead the way, Griphook!"
"How are we going to get out again?" Ron asked as they hurried on foot into the darkness after the goblin, Bogrod panting in their wake like an old dog.
"Let's worry about that when we have to," said Harry. "Griphook, how much farther?"
"Not far, Harry Potter, not far . . ." And they turned a corner, and Hermione saw it. She knew it would be here per Bill's instructions, but seeing it was something else.
A gigantic dragon was tethered to the ground in front of them, barring access to four or five of the deepest vaults in the place. The beast's scales had turned pale and flaky during its long incarceration under the ground; its eyes were milkily pink; both rear legs bore heavy cuffs from which chains led to enormous pegs driven deep into the rocky floor. Its great spiked wings, folded close to its body, would have filled the chamber if it spread them, and when it turned its ugly head toward them, it roared with a noise that made the rock tremble, opened its mouth, and spat a jet of fire that sent them running back up the passageway.
"It is partially blind," panted Griphook, "but even more savage for that. However, we have the means to control it. It has learned what to expect when the Clankers come. Give them to me."
Ron passed the bag to Griphook, and the goblin pulled out a number of small metal instruments that, when shaken, made a loud, ringing noise like miniature hammers on anvils. Griphook handed them out.
"You know what to do," Griphook told Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "It will expect pain when it hears the noise: It will retreat, and Bogrod must place his palm upon the door of the vault."
They advanced around the corner again, shaking the Clankers, and the noise echoed off the rocky walls, making it echo in her head.
The dragon let out another hoarse roar, then retreated. At the sound of the Clankers, the poor dragon trembled, and Hermione could see the slashes of scars across its face.
"Make him press his hand to the door!" Griphook urged Harry, who turned his wand again upon Bogrod.
The old goblin obeyed, pressing his palm to the wood, and the door of the vault melted away to reveal a cavelike opening crammed from floor to ceiling with golden coins and goblets, silver armor, the skins of strange creatures — some with long spines, others with drooping wings — potions in jeweled flasks, and a skull still wearing a crown.
"Search, fast!" said Harry as they all hurried inside the vault.
Hermione looked around for what Harry had described in one of his visions. As she searched, there was a muffled clunk from behind them: The door had reappeared, sealing them inside the vault, and they were plunged into total darkness.
"No matter, Bogrod will be able to release us!" said Griphook as Ron gave a shout of surprise. "Light your wands, can't you? And hurry, we have very little time!"
"Lumos Maxima!" Hermione cast and made a few of her blue flames in strategic places while she searched.
Hermione saw a goblet that could be a cup and reached out for it. "Harry, could this be — ? Aargh!" Hermione screamed in pain as her hand started blistering.
Hermione dropped the jeweled goblet, as it fell, it split, became a shower of goblets, so that a second later, with a great clatter, the floor was covered in identical cups rolling in every direction, the original impossible to discern amongst them. "It burned me!" moaned Hermione, sucking her blistered fingers.
"They have added Gemino and Flagrante Curses!" said Griphook. "Everything you touch will burn and multiply, but the copies are worthless — and if you continue to handle the treasure, you will eventually be crushed to death by the weight of expanding gold!"
"Okay, don't touch anything!" said Harry desperately, but even as he said it, Ron accidentally nudged one of the fallen goblets with his foot, and twenty more exploded into being while Ron hopped on the spot, part of his shoe burned away by contact with the hot metal.
"Stand still, don't move!" said Hermione, clutching at Ron.
"Just look around!" said Harry. "Remember, the cup's small and gold, it's got a badger engraved on it, two handles — otherwise see if you can spot Ravenclaw's symbol anywhere, the eagle —"
They directed their wands into every nook and crevice, turning cautiously on the spot. It was impossible not to brush up against anything; Harry sent a great cascade of fake Galleons onto the ground where they joined the goblets, and now there was scarcely room to place their feet, and the glowing gold blazed with heat, so that the vault felt like a furnace making Hermione overheat with all the layers she was wearing.
"It's there, it's up there!" Harry yelled out.
Hermione and Ron pointed their wands at it too, so that the little golden cup sparkled in a three-way spotlight: the cup that had belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, which had passed into the possession of Hepzibah Smith, from whom it had been stolen by Tom Riddle.
"And how the hell are we going to get up there without touching anything?" asked Ron.
"Accio Cup!" cried Hermione.
"No use, no use!" snarled the goblin.
"Then what do we do?" said Harry, glaring at the goblin. "If you want the sword, Griphook, then you'll have to help us more than — wait! Can I touch stuff with the sword? Hermione, give it here!"
Hermione fumbled inside her robes, drew out the beaded bag, rummaged for a few seconds, then removed the shining sword. Passing it to Harry, he seized it by its rubied hilt and touched the tip of the blade to a silver flagon nearby, which did not multiply.
"If I can just poke the sword through a handle — but how am I going to get up there?" Harry asked.
In the quiet, they could hear the dragon roar on the other side of the vault door, and the sound of clanking grew louder and louder. They were truly trapped now: There was no way out except through the door, and a horde of goblins seemed to be approaching on the other side. The heat was getting worse, and Hermione was starting to panic.
"Hermione," said Harry as the clanking grew louder. His voice calming her, "I've got to get up there, we've got to get rid of it —"
She raised her wand, pointed it at Harry, and whispered, "Levicorpus." Hoisted into the air by his ankle, Harry hit a suit of armor and replicas burst out of it like white-hot bodies, filling the cramped space.
Armor copied itself, surrounding her with hot metal pressing all around her. Hermione screamed out as she tried to hold her wand steady as Harry continued to rise. Hermione saw Harry thrust the sword forward and hook the cup. Knowing he had it, she yelled, "Impervius!" screeched Hermione in an attempt to protect herself, Ron, and the goblins from the burning metal.
The molten hot metal burned through her shoes and started creeping up her legs, and she screamed as she felt them blistering. Ron was struggling to keep Bogrod above the rising metal, and Griphook had been buried.
Hermione lost concentration, and Harry fell onto the rising piles. He seized Griphook's fingers and pulled. The blistered goblin emerged, howling.
"Liberacorpus!" yelled Harry, and with a crash he and Griphook landed on the surface of the swelling treasure, and the sword flew out of Harry's hand.
"Get it!" Harry yelled, fighting the pain of the hot metal on his skin, as Griphook clambered onto his shoulders again, determined to avoid the swelling mass of red-hot objects. "Where's the sword? It had the cup on it!"
"There!" Griphook, who lunged, seized the hilt of the sword and swung it high out of Harry's reach. The tiny golden cup, skewered by the handle on the sword's blade, was flung into the air, making Hermione gasp.
The goblin still astride him, Harry dived and caught it, even while countless Hufflepuff cups burst from his fist, raining down upon him as the entrance of the vault opened up again and Hermione found herself sliding uncontrollably on an expanding avalanche of fiery gold and silver that spat out all of them into the outer chamber.
Hermione moaned as she came to a stop and heard, "Thieves! Thieves! Help! Thieves!" and Griphook ran through the advancing crowd, all of whom were holding daggers.
The hot, blistering metal burned through the sides of her dress, and she pulled her wand out, "Stupefy!"
Jets of red light flew into the crowd of goblins, and some toppled over, but others advanced.
The tethered dragon let out a roar, and a gush of flame flew over the goblins: The wizards fled, doubled-up, back the way they had come as Hermione cast the strongest shield that she could.
Harry moved, pointing his wand at the thick cuffs chaining the beast to the floor. He yelled, "Relashio!"
The cuffs broke open with loud bangs.
"This way!" Harry yelled, and still shooting Stunning Spells at the advancing goblins, he sprinted toward the blind dragon.
"Harry — Harry — what are you doing?" cried Hermione, struggling to run after him.
"Get up, climb up, come on —" Hermione ran over to the dragon, and Harry held out his hand. Grabbing it, he pulled her up behind him. The scales were hard as steel under her warm skin as she wrapped her arms around his middle. Ron climbed on behind her, wrapping his arms around her. Soon after, the dragon realized the weight on its back and reared with a roar. Grabbing onto Harry tighter, she held on with her legs as tightly as she could as it opened its wings. Goblins were sent flying by its wings.
With a jerk, it soared into the air. Harry went flat on its back and Hermione lay flat on Harry. Its wings scraped against the ceiling as it went toward the opening of the cart tracks.
"We'll never get out, it's too big!" Hermione screamed at Harry, but the dragon opened its mouth and belched flame again, blasting the tunnel, whose floors and ceiling cracked and crumbled. By sheer force, the dragon clawed and fought its way through. More heat and dust rained down on them. Looking ahead, she realized that the opening would not be big enough.
"Defodio!" She yelled, trying to enlarge the passageway and ceiling for them.
Harry and Ron copied her, blasting the ceiling apart with more gouging spells. They passed the underground lake, and the dragon seemed to sense freedom and space ahead of it. Behind them, the dragon's tail was causing more destruction, blocking the goblins from reaching them.
Then at last, by the combined force of their spells and the dragon's brute strength, they had blasted their way out of the passage into the marble hallway. Goblins and wizards shrieked and ran for cover, and finally the dragon had room to stretch its wings: Turning its horned head toward the cool outside air it could smell beyond the entrance, it took off, and with Harry, Ron, and Hermione still clinging to its back, it forced its way through the metal doors, leaving them buckled and hanging from their hinges, as it staggered into Diagon Alley and launched itself into the sky.
Hermione held tight to Harry, and her legs were quivering as her muscles protested her brute strength of holding onto the dragon, as it rose higher in the air. London grew smaller underneath them as the cool breeze soothed Hermione's burnt skin.
Hermione buried her face in Harry's back and cried as they rose. Ron swore as he grabbed onto her tightly, aggravating her burns. Opening an eye, she saw they were now in the clouds, and she started shivering as wet dew covered them and the dragon's scales. Closing her eyes as she saw nothing recognizable anymore underneath them but countryside, she buried her face deeper in Harry's back.
"What do you reckon it's looking for?" Ron yelled as they flew farther and farther.
"No idea," Harry bellowed back.
Hermione's body was becoming numb with cold, and the dew collecting on the dragon's scales was making her slip around slightly. She knew one shift or hard turn, and she would possibly fly off. Her stomach growled. In the last month, she had eaten better than they had since July, and her stomach was now expecting it. She had not eaten before they left, and dinner last night had to have been over 12 hours ago, if not longer. Opening her eyes, she got her answer as the sky was gaining color on the horizon. The sunset would be within the next half hour.
"Is it my imagination," shouted Ron, making her jump after the silence, "or are we losing height?"
Hermione dared to open her eyes and saw the land getting larger and more detailed. They were losing height. It started flying in circles, circling the small lake underneath them.
"I say we jump when it gets low enough!" Harry called back to the others. "Straight into the water before it realizes we're here!"
Hermione nodded into his back, watching the reflection of the dragon growing closer in the water.
"NOW!" Harry yelled.
Hermione's frozen hands struggled to let go of Harry as he pushed off the dragon. She held onto him as long as possible as the water grew closer and let go when she could hold on no longer. Taking a gasp of air, she hit the water hard. Her many layers were like weights pulling her down into the freezing water. She kicked, trying to rise to the surface, but became tangled up in the cloak, dress, and reeds that filled the lake they landed in.
Opening her eyes, she saw the surface growing farther away even as she tried to swim to the surface. Harry's feet and Ron's feet were now at the surface together. Her lungs started to burn as she saw Harry dive. Her head was becoming fuzzy as he got close to her. It was when he finally reached her that her lungs had had enough, and somehow Harry knew. Pressing his mouth to hers, she breathed in as he breathed into her mouth. Grabbing onto her cloak, he pulled her to the surface.
As she broke through, she gasped, coughing on the water in her lungs.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked.
Hermione coughed the remaining water from her lungs, "This cloak was like bricks weighing me down."
The dragon was already flying away from them as they spotted the shoreline.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione struck out for the shore. The lake did not seem to be deep: Soon it was more a question of fighting their way through reeds and mud than swimming, and at last they flopped, sodden, panting, and exhausted, onto slippery grass. Hermione collapsed, coughing and shuddering, never feeling so exhausted in her life.
Harry staggered to his feet, drew out his wand, and started casting the usual protective spells around them. When he had finished, he joined her and Ron.
Hermione pushed herself up with great difficulty and pulled out her beaded bag. Reaching in, she got the bottle of dittany and started slathering her hands in it. Hissing as her skin mended, she handed the dittany to Ron, then pulled at the fasteners on the cloak, shrugging it off.
She noted that the sleeves of the cloak and the dress were like Swiss cheese as her stomach audibly growled. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out three bottles of pumpkin juice. It wasn't much, but it would help her stomach until they could access food. Handing them to the boys, she then pulled out sets of clothes for her and Ron, and a robe for each of them.
Modesty was not a dire thing as they changed, then Hermione collapsed to the ground, exhausted, as she gulped down her juice.
"Well, on the upside," said Ron finally, who was sitting watching the skin on his hands regrow, "we got the Horcrux. On the downside —"
"— no sword," said Harry through gritted teeth as Hermione applied dittany to the side of her stomach where it had been singed, then pulled her shirt on.
"No sword," repeated Ron. "That double-crossing little scab . . ."
Harry pulled the Horcrux from the pocket of the wet jacket he had just taken off and set it down on the grass in front of them. Glinting in the sun, it drew their eyes as they swigged their bottles of juice.
"At least we can't wear it this time, that'd look a bit weird hanging round our necks," said Ron, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
Hermione looked across the lake to the far bank, where the dragon was still drinking. "What'll happen to it, do you think?" she asked. "Will it be all right?"
Ron scoffed, "You sound like Hagrid," said Ron. "It's a dragon, Hermione, it can look after itself. It's us we need to worry about."
Hermione looked at him as hunger twinged in her stomach. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I don't know how to break this to you," said Ron, "but I think they might have noticed we broke into Gringotts."
All three of them started to laugh, and once started, it was difficult to stop. Hermione clutched her aching sides as she wiped the tears from her face.
"What are we going to do, though?" said Hermione finally, hiccuping herself back to seriousness. "He'll know, won't he? You-Know-Who will know we know about his Horcruxes!"
"Maybe they'll be too scared to tell him?" said Ron hopefully. "Maybe they'll cover up their failures to keep it safe. Gringotts might not even have told Bellatrix yet."
Hermione heard Harry's teeth gritting together and looked over to see him collapsed in the grass, "Oh, I think he knows."
Moving over to Harry, she cradled his head as it thrashed. Running her fingers through his hair, Ron stood up and looked around. "I'm going to go scout for food. I'd take berries even at this point."
Hermione stared down at Harry as his eyes flew open. He struggled up, shivering, "He knows."
Harry was breathing heavily, "He knows, and he's going to check where the others are, and the last one," he was already on his feet, "is at Hogwarts. I knew it. I knew it."
"What?" Ron asked, running over to them.
Hermione sat up, "But what did you see? How do you know?"
"I saw him find out about the cup, I — I was in his head, he's…he's seriously angry, and scared too, he can't understand how we knew, and now he's going to check the others are safe, the ring first. He thinks the Hogwarts one is safest, because Snape's there, because it'll be so hard not to be seen getting in, I think he'll check that one last, but he could still be there within hours —" Harry told them.
"Did you see where in Hogwarts it is?" asked Ron.
"No, he was concentrating on warning Snape, he didn't think about exactly where it is —" Harry explained.
"Wait, wait!" cried Hermione as Ron grabbed the Horcrux and Harry pulled out the Invisibility Cloak again. "We can't just go, we haven't got a plan, we need to —"
"We need to get going," said Harry firmly. "Can you imagine what he's going to do once he realizes the ring and the locket are gone? What if he moves the Hogwarts Horcrux, decides it isn't safe enough?"
"But how are we going to get in?" Hermione asked.
"We'll go to Hogsmeade," said Harry, "and try to work something out once we see what the protection around the school's like. Get under the Cloak, Hermione, I want to stick together this time."
"But we don't really fit —" Hermione stated, scared.
"It'll be dark, no one's going to notice our feet," Harry assured her.
Hermione watched as the dragon flapped its wings across the lake and rose into the air. They paused in their preparations to watch it climb higher and higher, now black against the rapidly darkening sky, until it vanished over a nearby mountain. Then Hermione walked forward and took her place between the other two. Harry pulled the Cloak down as far as it would go, and together they turned on the spot into the crushing darkness.
Swirling through vast darkness, pressing against her, her feet finally touched a solid surface. The streetlights were on as they had made it to Hogsmeade's High Street. The shop fronts were dark, except for the Three Broomsticks, which had light spilling out onto the darkened road. The curved road that leads to Hogwarts was dark, as the outline of the mountains against the darkened sky.
Harry relaxed his grip on her arms as the air was filled with a sound so awful, it sounded like screams of someone being tortured. "It's the caterwauling charm. So, they know someone is here," Hermione said quickly as the door flung open to the Three Broomsticks.
A dozen cloaked and hooded Death Eaters dashed into the street, their wands aloft. Under the cloak, Ron raised his wand, and Harry pushed his hand down.
One of the Death Eaters waved his wand, and the scream stopped, still echoing around the distant mountains. "Accio Cloak!" roared one of the Death Eaters.
Hermione gasped, but the cloak did not leave them.
"Not under your wrapper, then, Potter?" yelled the Death Eater who had tried the charm, and then to his fellows, "Spread out. He's here."
Six of the Death Eaters ran toward them: Harry, Ron, and Hermione backed as quickly as possible down the nearest side street, and the Death Eaters missed them by inches. They waited in the darkness, listening to the footsteps running up and down, beams of light flying along the street from the Death Eaters' searching wands.
"Let's just leave!" Hermione whispered. "Disapparate now!"
"Great idea," said Ron, but before Harry could reply, a Death Eater shouted, "We know you're here, Potter, and there's no getting away! We'll find you!"
"They were ready for us," whispered Harry. "They set up that spell to tell them we'd come. I reckon they've done something to keep us here, trap us —"
"What about dementors?" called another Death Eater. "Let 'em have free rein, they'd find him quick enough!"
"The Dark Lord wants Potter dead by no hand but his —" "— an' dementors won't kill him! The Dark Lord wants Potter's life, not his soul. He'll be easier to kill if he's been Kissed first!" There were noises of agreement.
Hermione's heart was beating so loudly that she was afraid the Death Eaters would hear it.
"We're going to have to try to Disapparate, Harry!" Hermione whispered.
As she said it, the air around them changed. The familiar unnatural cold settled over the street. Hermione grabbed onto Harry's arm, then Ron's, and tried to disapparate. It was like she hit a wall, and they went nowhere.
The cold was pressing in on her as she, Ron, and Harry moved to one of the side streets and moved along a wall, trying to remain as quiet as possible. It was as if the air was sucked out of her lungs, and her screams echoed in her head as the dementors appeared. At least ten of them.
Harry raised his wand, and Hermione tried to speak to stop him, but her voice would not come.
Harry whispered, "Expecto Patronum!" and the familiar silver stag burst from his wand and charged: The dementors scattered, and there was a triumphant yell from somewhere out of sight.
"It's him, down there, down there, I saw his Patronus, it was a stag!" The dementors had retreated, the stars were popping out again, and the footsteps of the Death Eaters were becoming louder.
A grinding of bolts nearby, made her jump as a door opened on the left-hand side of the narrow street, and a rough voice said, "Potter, in here, quick!"
Harry seized her arm, and they hurried through the open door. The room was dark, and Hermione was unable to see who had rescued them. He was tall, with a gray beard, and seemed so familiar.
"Upstairs, keep the Cloak on, keep quiet!" muttered a tall figure, passing them on his way into the street and slamming the door behind him.
Hermione glanced around to get her bearings and saw a single candle lighting the room, but it was enough to recognize where they were. Hog's Head Inn. Together they ran around the counter and through a doorway to see a staircase at last. Climbing it as fast as they could under the cloak, they entered a sitting room with a small fireplace that had a painting of a young, blonde girl over it.
Hermione tried to keep her breathing steady as she led the boys to a dingy window. Down below were dozens of hooded Death Eaters squaring off against the Hog's Head barman.
"So what?" he was bellowing into one of the hooded faces. "So what? You send dementors down my street, I'll send a Patronus back at 'em! I'm not having 'em near me, I've told you that, I'm not having it!"
"That wasn't your Patronus!" said a Death Eater. "That was a stag, it was Potter's!"
Hermione's heart leaped into her throat, and she instantly felt sick to her stomach.
"Stag!" roared the barman, and he pulled out a wand. "Stag! You idiot — Expecto Patronum!"
Something huge and horned erupted from the wand: Head down, it charged toward the High Street and out of sight.
"That's not what I saw —" said the Death Eater.
Hermione swallowed hard.
"Curfew's been broken, you heard the noise," one of his companions told the barman. "Someone was out in the street against regulations —"
"If I want to put my cat out, I will, and be damned to your curfew!" The barman smarted off.
"You set off the Caterwauling Charm?" One of the Death Eaters asked.
"What if I did? Going to cart me off to Azkaban? Kill me for sticking my nose out my own front door? Do it, then, if you want to! But I hope for your sakes you haven't pressed your little Dark Marks and summoned him. He's not going to like being called here for me and my old cat, is he, now?"
Hermione grabbed Harry's arm.
"Don't you worry about us," said one of the Death Eaters, "worry about yourself, breaking curfew!"
"And where will you lot traffick potions and poisons when my pub's closed down? What'll happen to your little sidelines then?" The barman asked.
"Are you threatening — ?" The Death Eater asked.
"I keep my mouth shut, it's why you come here, isn't it?" The barman stated.
"I still say I saw a stag Patronus!" shouted the first Death Eater.
"Stag?" roared the barman. "It's a goat, idiot!"
"All right, we made a mistake," said the second Death Eater. "Break curfew again and we won't be so lenient!"
The Death Eaters strode back toward the High Street.
Hermione's legs had lost feeling, and she moaned in relief as she removed herself from the cloak and had to sit on a wobbly-legged chair.
The curtains pulled themselves tight, then Harry and Ron reappeared in front of her. Hermione's heart started calming as they heard the barman rebolting the door, then climbing the stairs.
The barman entered the room. "You bloody fools," he said gruffly, looking from one to the other of them. "What were you thinking, coming here?"
"Thank you," said Harry. "We can't thank you enough. You saved our lives."
The barman grunted.
Hermione watched Harry approach him, "It's your eye I've been seeing in the mirror." Harry breathed out.
Hermione's head snapped to get a good look at him. If you looked hard enough, he did look a bit like Dumbledore.
There was silence in the room. Harry and the barman looked at each other. "You sent Dobby."
The barman nodded and looked around for the elf. "Thought he'd be with you. Where've you left him?"
"He's dead," said Harry. "Bellatrix Lestrange killed him."
After a few moments, he said, "I'm sorry to hear it. I liked that elf." He turned away, lighting lamps with prods of his wand, not looking at any of them.
In the light, Hermione could see more of his features and realized who he was.
"You're Aberforth," said Harry to the man's back. "How did you get this?"
"Bought it from Dung 'bout a year ago," said Aberforth. "Albus told me what it was. Been trying to keep an eye out for you."
Ron gasped, making Hermione jump. "The silver doe!" he said excitedly. "Was that you, too?"
"What are you talking about?" said Aberforth.
"Someone sent a doe Patronus to us!" Ron told him, and Hermione tried not to groan out loud as her stomach protested.
Aberforth rolled his eyes, "Brains like that, you could be a Death Eater, son. Haven't I just proved my Patronus is a goat?"
"Oh," said Ron. "Yeah . . . well, I'm hungry!" he added defensively as his stomach gave an enormous rumble.
"I got food," said Aberforth, and he sloped out of the room, reappearing moments later with a large loaf of bread, some cheese, and a pewter jug of mead, which he set upon a small table in front of the fire.
Hermione's mouth watered at the smell of fresh bread. Grabbing a hunk of bread and some cheese, she nearly moaned as the taste hit her tongue. The boys poured themselves large glasses of mead. Hermione grabbed a goblet and took Bellatrix's wand, filling it with water. She had never been a fan of mead, preferring wine or butterbeer instead.
"Right then," said Aberforth after Hermione had eaten enough that her stomach was settled, and Harry and Ron sat slumped dozily in their chairs.
"We need to think of the best way to get you out of here. Can't be done by night, you heard what happens if anyone moves outdoors during darkness: Caterwauling Charm's set off, they'll be onto you like bowtruckles on doxy eggs. I don't reckon I'll be able to pass off a stag as a goat a second time. Wait for daybreak when curfew lifts, then you can put your Cloak back on and set out on foot. Get right out of Hogsmeade, up into the mountains, and you'll be able to Disapparate there. Might see Hagrid. He's been hiding in a cave up there with Grawp ever since they tried to arrest him." Aberforth said, looking out the window.
"We're not leaving," said Harry. "We need to get into Hogwarts."
"Don' be stupid, boy," said Aberforth, looking at them.
"We've got to," said Harry.
"What you've got to do," said Aberforth, leaning forward, "is to get as far from here as you can."
"You don't understand. There isn't much time. We've got to get into the castle. Dumbledore — I mean, your brother — wanted us —" Harry said as Aberforth interrupted him.
"My brother Albus wanted a lot of things," said Aberforth, "and people had a habit of getting hurt while he was carrying out his grand plans. You get away from this school, Potter, and out of the country if you can. Forget my brother and his clever schemes. He's gone where none of this can hurt him, and you don't owe him anything."
"You don't understand," said Harry again.
"Oh, don't I?" said Aberforth quietly. "You don't think I understood my own brother? Think you knew Albus better than I did?"
"I didn't mean that," said Harry. "It's . . . he left me a job."
"Did he now?" said Aberforth. "Nice job, I hope? Pleasant? Easy? Sort of thing you'd expect an unqualified wizard kid to be able to do without overstretching themselves?"
Ron gave a rather grim laugh, and Hermione looked between the two of them.
"I-it's not easy, no," said Harry. "But I've got to —"
"'Got to'? Why 'got to'? He's dead, isn't he?" said Aberforth roughly. "Let it go, boy, before you follow him! Save yourself!"
Harry squared his shoulders, "I can't."
"Why not?"
"I —" Harry stared at him. "But you're fighting too, you're in the Order of the Phoenix —"
"I was," said Aberforth. "The Order of the Phoenix is finished. You-Know-Who's won, it's over, and anyone who's pretending different's kidding themselves. It'll never be safe for you here, Potter, he wants you too badly. So go abroad, go into hiding, save yourself. Best take these two with you." He jerked a thumb at Ron and Hermione. "They'll be in danger long as they live now everyone knows they've been working with you."
"I can't leave," said Harry. "I've got a job —"
"Give it to someone else!" Aberforth yelled.
"I can't. It's got to be me, Dumbledore explained it all —" Harry said, shaking his head.
"Oh, did he now? And did he tell you everything, was he honest with you?"
Hermione swallowed as Harry's silence spoke volumes.
"I knew my brother, Potter. He learned secrecy at our mother's knee. Secrets and lies, that's how we grew up, and Albus . . . he was a natural." The old man's eyes traveled to the painting of the girl over the mantelpiece.
Hermione inhaled sharply, realizing that the girl in the picture was Dumbledore's sister.
"Mr. Dumbledore?" said Hermione rather timidly. "Is that your sister? Ariana?"
"Yes," said Aberforth tersely. "Been reading Rita Skeeter, have you, missy?"
Hermione instantly was embarrassed. She could imagine what Aberforth must have gone through because of others reading Rita's lies.
"Elphias Doge mentioned her to us," said Harry.
"That old berk," muttered Aberforth, taking another swig of mead. "Thought the sun shone out of my brother's every orifice, he did. Well, so did plenty of people, you three included, by the looks of it."
"Professor Dumbledore cared about Harry, very much," said Hermione in a low voice.
"Did he now?" said Aberforth. "Funny thing, how many of the people my brother cared about very much ended up in a worse state than if he'd left 'em well alone."
Hermione glanced at Harry, then back to Aberforth, "What do you mean?" asked Hermione breathlessly.
"Never you mind," said Aberforth, turning away from them.
"But that's a really serious thing to say!" said Hermione. "Are you — are you talking about your sister?"
Aberforth glared at her, and when he spoke, it was with anger, "When my sister was six years old, she was attacked, set upon, by three Muggle boys. They'd seen her doing magic, spying through the back garden hedge: She was a kid, she couldn't control it, no witch or wizard can at that age. What they saw scared them, I expect. They forced their way through the hedge, and when she couldn't show them the trick, they got a bit carried away trying to stop the little freak doing it."
The nausea returned as she recalled some of her own early magical experiences.
Aberforth stood up, tall as Albus, and suddenly terrible in his anger and the intensity of his pain. "It destroyed her, what they did: She was never right again. She wouldn't use magic, but she couldn't get rid of it; it turned inward and drove her mad, it exploded out of her when she couldn't control it, and at times she was strange and dangerous. But mostly she was sweet and scared and harmless. And my father went after the bastards that did it," said Aberforth, "and attacked them. And they locked him up in Azkaban for it. He never said why he'd done it, because if the Ministry had known what Ariana had become, she'd have been locked up in St. Mungo's for good. They'd have seen her as a serious threat to the International Statute of Secrecy, unbalanced like she was, with magic exploding out of her at moments when she couldn't keep it in any longer. We had to keep her safe and quiet. We moved house, put it about she was ill, and my mother looked after her, and tried to keep her calm and happy." Aberforth told them, gazing at her portrait, "I was her favorite," he said. "Not Albus, he was always up in his bedroom when he was home, reading his books and counting his prizes, keeping up with his correspondence with 'the most notable magical names of the day,'" Aberforth sneered. "He didn't want to be bothered with her. She liked me best. I could get her to eat when she wouldn't do it for my mother, I could get her to calm down when she was in one of her rages, and when she was quiet, she used to help me feed the goats. Then, when she was fourteen . . . See, I wasn't there," said Aberforth. "If I'd been there, I could have calmed her down. She had one of her rages, and my mother wasn't as young as she was, and . . . it was an accident. Ariana couldn't control it. But my mother was killed."
Hermione's heart dropped.
"So that put paid to Albus's trip round the world with little Doge. The pair of 'em came home for my mother's funeral and then Doge went off on his own, and Albus settled down as head of the family. Ha!" Aberforth spat into the fire. "I'd have looked after her, I told him so, I didn't care about school, I'd have stayed home and done it. He told me I had to finish my education and he'd take over from my mother. Bit of a comedown for Mr. Brilliant, there's no prizes for looking after your half-mad sister, stopping her blowing up the house every other day. But he did all right for a few weeks . . . till he came." And now a positively dangerous look crept over Aberforth's face. "Grindelwald. And at last, my brother had an equal to talk to, someone just as bright and talented as he was. And looking after Ariana took a backseat then, while they were hatching all their plans for a new Wizarding order, and looking for Hallows, and whatever else it was they were so interested in. Grand plans for the benefit of all Wizardkind, and if one young girl got neglected, what did that matter, when Albus was working for the greater good? "But after a few weeks of it, I'd had enough, I had. It was nearly time for me to go back to Hogwarts, so I told 'em, both of 'em, face-to-face, like I am to you, now," and Aberforth looked down at Harry, "I told him, you'd better give it up now. You can't move her, she's in no fit state, you can't take her with you, wherever it is you're planning to go, when you're making your clever speeches, trying to whip yourselves up a following. He didn't like that," said Aberforth, "Grindelwald didn't like that at all. He got angry. He told me what a stupid little boy I was, trying to stand in the way of him and my brilliant brother . . . Didn't I understand, my poor sister wouldn't have to be hidden once they'd changed the world, and led the wizards out of hiding, and taught the Muggles their place? "And there was an argument . . . and I pulled out my wand, and he pulled out his, and I had the Cruciatus Curse used on me by my brother's best friend — and Albus was trying to stop him, and then all three of us were dueling, and the flashing lights and the bangs set her off, she couldn't stand it —"
Hermione's hands went to her mouth as she realized where the story was going.
"— and I think she wanted to help, but she didn't really know what she was doing, and I don't know which of us did it, it could have been any of us — and she was dead."
Hermione couldn't help the tears that fell from her eyes. "I'm so . . . I'm so sorry," Hermione whispered.
"Gone," croaked Aberforth. "Gone forever." He wiped his nose on his cuff and cleared his throat. "'Course, Grindelwald scarpered. He had a bit of a track record already, back in his own country, and he didn't want Ariana set to his account too. And Albus was free, wasn't he? Free of the burden of his sister, free to become the greatest wizard of the —"
"He was never free," said Harry.
"I beg your pardon?" said Aberforth.
"Never," said Harry. "The night that your brother died, he drank a potion that drove him out of his mind. He started screaming, pleading with someone who wasn't there. 'Don't hurt them, please . . . hurt me instead.'"
Hermione looked at Harry, surprised.
"He thought he was back there with you and Grindelwald, I know he did," said Harry. "He thought he was watching Grindelwald hurting you and Ariana. . . . It was torture to him, if you'd seen him then, you wouldn't say he was free."
Aberforth seemed lost in contemplation of his own knotted and veined hands. After a long pause he said, "How can you be sure, Potter, that my brother wasn't more interested in the greater good than in you? How can you be sure you aren't dispensable, just like my little sister?"
"I don't believe it. Dumbledore loved Harry," said Hermione.
"Why didn't he tell him to hide, then?" shot back Aberforth. "Why didn't he say to him, 'Take care of yourself, here's how to survive'?"
"Because," said Harry before Hermione could answer, "sometimes you've got to think about more than your own safety! Sometimes you've got to think about the greater good! This is war!"
Aberforth turned to him, "You're seventeen, boy!"
"I'm of age, and I'm going to keep fighting even if you've given up!" Harry yelled.
"Who says I've given up?" Aberforth said as he sat down.
"'The Order of the Phoenix is finished,'" Harry repeated. "'You-Know-Who's won, it's over, and anyone who's pretending different's kidding themselves.'"
"I don't say I like it, but it's the truth!"
"No, it isn't," said Harry. "Your brother knew how to finish You-Know-Who and he passed the knowledge on to me. I'm going to keep going until I succeed — or I die. Don't think I don't know how this might end. I've known it for years." Hermione swallowed back her tears. "We need to get into Hogwarts," said Harry again. "If you can't help us, we'll wait till daybreak, leave you in peace, and try to find a way in ourselves. If you can help us — well, now would be a great time to mention it."
At last Aberforth cleared his throat, got to his feet, walked around the little table, and approached the portrait of Ariana. "You know what to do," he said.
She smiled, turned, and walked away, not as people in portraits usually did, out of the sides of their frames, but along what seemed to be a long tunnel painted behind her. They watched her slight figure retreating until finally she was swallowed by the darkness.
"Er — what — ?" began Ron.
"There's only one way in now," said Aberforth. "You must know they've got all the old secret passageways covered at both ends, dementors all around the boundary walls, regular patrols inside the school from what my sources tell me. The place has never been so heavily guarded. How you expect to do anything once you get inside it, with Snape in charge and the Carrows as his deputies . . . well, that's your lookout, isn't it? You say you're prepared to die."
"But what . . . ?" said Hermione, frowning at Ariana's picture. A tiny white dot had reappeared at the end of the painted tunnel, and now Ariana was walking back toward them, growing bigger and bigger as she came. But there was somebody else with her now, someone taller than she was, who was limping along, looking excited. Tears sprang to her eyes, and Hermione saw him, instantly recognizing him despite the injuries to his face and torn clothing.
Larger and larger the two figures grew, until only their heads and shoulders filled the portrait. Then the whole thing swung forward on the wall like a little door, and the entrance to a real tunnel was revealed. And out of it, his hair overgrown, his face cut, his robes ripped, clambered the real Neville Longbottom, who gave a roar of delight, leapt down from the mantelpiece, and yelled, "I knew you'd come! I knew it, Harry!"
*Rowling, J.K.. Harry Potter: The Complete Collection (1-7). Pottermore Publishing. Kindle Edition.
Preview of Chapter 12- Fighting
Hermione stared at him, and he nodded to her. Ron went over to his brothers, and Harry leaned in toward her.
"Look, you are still not feeling well," Harry started.
"Neither are you!" Hermione hissed.
"Just give me this," Harry told her, "Go find a chair or a hammock, rest okay? Don't think I don't see the tremors."
Hermione sighed as Cho stood, and Hermione wanted to reach out to him, telling him not to go with her. Only Cho had ever made her feel insecure before. Ginny piped up, "No, Luna will take Harry, won't you Luna?"
"Oooh, yes, I'd like to," Luna said happily.
Cho looked disappointed, and Hermione tried not to celebrate it.
Harry turned to Neville, "How do we get out?"
"Over here," Neville said as he led Harry and Luna to a corner.
Hermione bit down on her lip as a small cupboard opened to reveal a staircase.
"It comes out somewhere different every day, so they've never been able to find it," Neville told him, "Only trouble is, we never know exactly where we're going to end up when we go out. Be careful, Harry, they're always patrolling the corridors at night."
"No problem," Harry told him, "See you in a bit."
Hermione nearly collapsed when he disappeared, and Fred rushed to catch her.
"Hermione!" Ron yelled, running over to her, "Are you okay?"
Hermione swallowed hard, "Just got lightheaded for a minute."