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And on we go with The Road. ^__^ All you people who were worried, don't fret: I intend to finish this fic. And I am making my way through DH, enjoying myself, so please don't spoil it for me!
IMPORTANT: Note that my warning has been changed. Anyone worried about DH issues, please make sure you read it.
Title: The Road (19/?)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rurounihime
Rating: hard R when all is said and done…
Pairing: H/D eventually
Summary: In the midst of a disintegrating war, Harry awaits the arrival of the Order’s last hope.
Warning: violence, character death, spoilers for all books except DH (I have not finished reading it yet). This fic is now AU because of Deathly Hallows. I have not included any major spoilers from the book so far. But that is not to say that some won’t sneak in as I continue writing the later sections.
Disclaimer: The HP characters and most of the spellwork do not belong to me.
A/N: Thank you to April for her fabulous and attentive beta-ing, and to Coffee for constantly letting me bounce ideas off of her. The other major pairing in this is Blaise/Seamus, but there are minor het pairings as well.
…
No artwork or music for this chapter.
…
**ETA: THIS CHAPTER HAS RECEIVED ITS FINAL EDIT**
Previous chapters
Chapter 19: A Tale of Woe
“Hannah’s dead.” Hermione clutched the mug in both hands. Some sort of warm liquid; she hadn’t attempted to drink it yet. She looked down at the wooden table before her and drew a deep breath. “I was supposed to meet her in Salisbury, but they… got there first.”
Ginny’s freckled hand crept over hers from across the table and tightened. Hermione heard Harry draw a breath of his own. He leaned against the table, bracing with both hands. “Death Eaters?”
Hermione nodded. She blinked to clear her eyes. “One of them chased me all over England. They knew I would be there. They waited for me. They must have gotten something out of Hannah before—”
She stopped. No one asked her to continue.
“Then maybe they did know,” Ginny murmured. Her blue eyes were troubled. They darted across the room, fixing briefly on the person standing there. Hermione looked too and saw Draco Malfoy shift his weight fitfully. She glanced at Harry and noticed a resigned twist to his lips.
“What?”
Harry straightened. “Malfoy and Ginny were stopped by Death Eaters.”
“What?” Hermione burst out over Harry’s words. She grabbed Ginny’s fingers. “Ginny—”
“We’re fine.” Ginny licked her lips. Glanced again toward Malfoy. Hermione frowned, unable to place the weird conflict in her friend’s face. Ginny continued. “Really, Hermione, we are. Only, they intimated that…”
“They knew she was the real target,” Moody growled from the other end of the table. He banged his walking stick down in frustration. “Abbott must have told them.”
“We have no way of knowing any of that,” Harry said firmly, and the room quieted. “We don’t know what she said. If she said anything.” He kneaded his forehead with his fingers and Hermione saw his face spasm. “Gods.”
“Either way,” Moody said darkly, “we have a problem. They can count one more off their list, and if there are any Death Eater scum worth their salt, they may have already deduced something from the fact that Lovegood hasn’t physically turned up anywhere for the last few months—”
Hermione jerked upright. “They have Luna’s wand. And Hannah’s. I couldn’t find either.”
“Then they have Lovegood’s magical signature.” Moody pushed up from his seat, pointing a gnarled finger at Hermione. “You still have your wand, Granger?”
“Of course I do!” Hermione answered hotly. “And Ginny’s, but—”
Moody waved his hand. “They may already know enough about you both just from tracking you across the damned countryside. And now they’ve got hold of two wands from one person. If they’ve figured out that Weasley is the one to be bound to Potter, then they—”
Harry smacked both hands down on the table. “We can’t do a thing about that now, even if we did know either way. There are more immediate questions to be answered!”
Hermione stared at Harry. At Ginny, and found her cheeks inexplicably red and her eyes downcast. Over by the door, Malfoy fidgeted uneasily. He wasn’t looking at anyone in the room, rather pointedly, Hermione thought. But before she could ponder further, Harry gripped her wrist insistently enough to startle her.
“Hermione,” he said in a low tone. “Why are you alone? Didn’t Seamus find you?”
All thoughts of Ginny and Malfoy went right out of her head. “No, no, he found me. He did. Two days ago. Somewhere in southern Devon, as far as I could tell. But… he left.”
Harry’s face went slack with surprise. “He what?”
“I…” Hermione gathered herself, somehow still shocked to realise that her answers had not appeared before her in the interim. “This morning, early. He said he had to leave, to go. I don’t know. He was in a horrid state.”
“Irresponsible, slipshod, unconscionable behaviour!” Moody snapped. His good eye glowed fiercely, the other rolling wildly in its socket. “If he makes it back here alive, he’s going to regret it once I get hold of him!”
Hermione struggled to find her voice while murmurs rose around her. “No, you don’t understand,” she hastened, clutching the tabletop. “It wasn’t like that at all. He—”
Everyone was looking at her. Hermione felt her face heat and focussed on Harry. Yes, Harry, he would… “You should have seen him, Harry. He was completely terrified. Something was wrong, he said, with Blaise, and he—He was leaping right out of his skin.”
Harry stiffened. Glanced up over her head at Moody. “Blaise?”
“It was ridiculous,” Hermione continued. “I mean, we’d not seen him, we didn’t even know where he was. But Seamus… I couldn’t keep him there, Harry, he was—it was as if he knew. I couldn’t make him stay!”
She was beginning to plead, she could hear it. Who was she trying to convince, herself? There was no way to make them understand. But she remembered the look in Seamus’ eye, the cracks running through his voice.
Harry watched her, an odd expression on his face. She heard Moody clunk up behind.
“A spell?” the old Auror grated. “Hallucinatory?”
Oliver Wood stirred where he sat a ways down the table. “It’s possible. I’ve seen them at work. In London.”
“No, no, no.” Hermione shook her head fervently. “It wasn’t like that, you don’t understand. He was genuinely terrified.”
“But that’s precisely what the hallucinatory spells do, Hermione,” Oliver shot back. “They feed off of a person’s genuine fear.”
“I know what I saw!” A flare of pain erupted behind her eyes and she bit off whatever might have followed, pressing her fingers to her brow. She could hear the subtle movement of the others in the room, and her throat and face felt hot. She suddenly felt like a silly schoolgirl vying for attention. Merlin, what had she seen? Maybe Oliver was right, maybe Seamus had been—Oh, she couldn’t think and they were all staring at her.
“Hermione?” That was Harry. Ginny’s fingers squeezed hers. Hermione shook her head wordlessly. Harry must have turned. “Someone get Madam Pomfrey.”
For a moment, nobody moved. Then Ginny’s grip loosened and she started to rise. Her eyes were trained sharply on Harry, and something in her face looked especially raw. Ginny’s gaze darted for just an instant, a mere twitch. “I’ll go.”
Harry returned her gaze, jaw strangely tight. Hermione could make no sense of it, and then Oliver spoke.
“No, Luna has it. Pomfrey’s coming.”
For the first time since entering the castle, Hermione became aware of Luna’s singing. It had somehow drifted directly into her blood, becoming nothing but calming white noise. Now it grew richer in tone, very briefly, and sank away again. Hermione blinked rapidly. “She can… talk to people here?”
“In your head,” was all Harry said. He still had not looked away from Ginny. But Ginny was no longer looking at him. She stared down at the table with white lips.
Against the door, Malfoy stirred again, restlessly.
And then Harry broke the moment. “Alright. Hermione. Is it your impression that Seamus was in trouble?”
“If he’s under a hallucinatory spell, trouble doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Moody muttered. Harry lifted a hand without looking behind him.
“Hallucinatory spell or no,” he continued, his tone edgier, “is he in trouble?”
“I…” Hermione felt pole-axed. “I don’t know what else it could have been. He was afraid. Terrified. Of something.”
“Then we can’t just leave him out there,” Oliver said. “Anyone could find him, and if he’s not himself—”
The large door creaked. Malfoy startled and lurched out of the way on swift steps. The door swung inward, admitting the careworn figure of Madam Pomfrey gripping a worn leather bag. She took stock of the room and its occupants, then headed directly to Hermione. Her wand was in her hand before anyone could greet her, and Hermione jumped at the cool trickle of sensory magic over her ears and cheeks. She made herself hold still, trying to fix her eyes on something else and finding Malfoy in the shadow of the door. His face was unreadable.
“He’s not himself,” she said after a moment’s silence. “He’s… Where is Zabini, anyway? If he’s going to find him, then maybe we can find them both. Bring them back.”
She saw the quick glance Harry and Moody exchanged. If they hadn’t done it at the same moment, she wouldn’t have thought anything of it. “He’s not near here. Seamus won’t just be able to ‘find him.’”
“If anyone can find him, it’ll be Seamus,” Ginny said stiffly. Hermione looked sharply at her friend, as sharply as her aching head would allow. Beside her, Madam Pomfrey clucked warningly.
“Hold still, Ms Granger. I haven’t finished.”
Hermione bit her tongue and forced herself to stop moving, and all the while the gentle flow drifted through her like a liquid. She set her jaw and looked at Harry again. “You said we’re calling them all in. Everyone who can make it. We can’t leave Seamus out there.”
Oliver cleared his throat. “I agree.”
Hermione smiled at him gratefully before turning back to Harry. “If you have any idea where Zabini is, then maybe—”
But Harry was shaking his head. “Finding Blaise is not an option. Alright? And Seamus knows even less about where he is than I do. There’s no way he’d ever find him, not without a tracking spell.”
“Would he use one, though?” That was Ginny, her tone rising out of that unusual sullenness into concern. “Would he be foolish enough to—That is, I mean, if he is under some sort of spell?”
Oliver snorted. “There’s no telling what he could do under a hallucinatory spell. He could be seeing his own mum for all we know.”
Hermione opened her mouth, but her headache intensified and she sank back, raising a hand to her temple. The tip of Pomfrey’s wand alighted on her forehead and held there. She felt the drone of new magic through her skin.
Her silence hardly mattered, however; Oliver was speaking for her. “Someone has to go after him. We can’t just leave him out there to wander around. If any Death Eaters got hold of him, you know what they’ll do.”
“And who do you suggest we send?” Moody growled. “We only sent him out after Granger here, and look what’s happened. You want to send Potter?”
“I could go,” Oliver countered heatedly. “Or you, Moody.”
“Or Malfoy,” Ginny muttered, very quietly. Again Hermione stared at her friend. Ginny was looking at the table fixedly, her mouth turned downward in an unbecoming grimace. Confusion boiled Hermione’s frustration into full out annoyance.
“Oh, for Godric’s sake. I’ll go,” she said, grabbing the table for purchase and almost tumbling over in her haste to gain her feet. “Someone has to go out there and find—”
“Absolutely not, Ms Granger!” Pomfrey snapped. Her hand was an iron band on Hermione’s wrist. “You’re not going anywhere. You’ve been Apparating Merlin knows where! Small wonder you haven’t splinched yourself irreparably.”
Harry’s voice sounded weary. “Is she alright?”
“No,” the older woman said, very crisply. “No, she’s not. She’s Apparated too often in too short a period of time. It could be days before she recovers fully. Weeks. I have no way of knowing here. And the longer you keep the two of us out of my Infirmary, the less of a chance I’ll have to figure out what she’s done to herself!”
A vague sort of panic throbbed at Hermione’s nerves. She squinted, and the ache rolling in her skull expanded. Ginny was looking at her, eyes wide with concern.
“You’re all idiots,” came Malfoy’s voice, low and empty over by the door. “Look at you. You can’t go out after him. You’ve no idea where to look. They’ll find you. They’ve probably found him already.”
It was the despair under his tone that drew everyone’s attention. At least it drew Hermione’s. Pomfrey was still gripping her wrist.
“Luna can do it,” was all Harry said.
And the arguing began again.
“Lovegood is not your personal Floo line, Potter!” from Moody. From Oliver, an all too telling outburst about the damage such a thing could do to Luna, secondarily to the wards. Pomfrey began to call for silence. Ginny sank into herself, arms tight around her chest like a cocoon, and Hermione barely looked away in time to see Malfoy cover his face with one hand.
When she returned for a second glance, his expression was blank again, body rigid. It was as though he’d never moved.
Amidst the uproar, something rippled alarmingly through the air, cutting the voices off. Prickles crawled along Hermione’s arms. “What in Godric’s name was that?”
“Luna’s lowering the wards,” Harry said faintly.
Hermione’s heart leaped into her throat at the announcement, but Moody only heaved himself away from the table with a sigh. “More arrivals. Who is it this time?”
Luna’s crystalline voice shivered around the room soothingly, but Hermione clutched her chair. Her head began to pound feverishly. “She just lets the wards down? Just like that?”
“No, not just like that,” Malfoy muttered sourly from his corner. “By all the Founders, Granger, have some sense.”
Hermione glared at him, but before she could retort, a fresh ache bloomed in her forehead and Pomfrey shushed her. Harry, whose head had been cocked slightly, eyes shut, now opened them wide and blinked twice. “That’s Hestia, and Kingsley.”
A look of relief flittered over Moody’s craggy face. It occurred to Hermione how strange it must be, to be constantly surrounded by… well, people one would consider to be children.
Are you alright, Hermione?
Hermione jumped. Looked around. But no one else seemed to have heard a thing. She swallowed. Bowed her head and whispered, “Luna?”
Yes.
“I’m…” She stopped as Pomfrey frowned at her. Hermione waited until the Healer had returned her attention to wherever it had been and then raised a hand to cover her mouth surreptitiously. “I’m fine.”
As though Luna had really heard her—which Hermione was still finding difficult to wrap her mind around—a new warmth tickled through her temples, sweeping gradually down her neck and into her shoulders. The pain in her head eased at last. Luna’s song sounded more glorious than ever.
You are quite muddled, Luna said simply, as if commenting on her hair or… Goodness, what was she thinking? There was a bloody voice in her head! Hermione tried not to fidget, and Luna went on. Your insides are all mixed up. I’ll try and sort you out.
“N—” Hermione caught herself before the instinctive response slipped free. She clutched the arm of her chair with both hands. It felt good, whatever Luna was doing. But Hermione couldn’t ignore the nagging memory of an owlish girl who read books upside down and walked quite blissfully into cobwebby statues without noticing a thing. And here Luna was now, fussing around inside her body.
Moody clunked around the table, grim determination twisting his face. “I’d best go see to them. We have things to discuss. Potter. If you please?”
“I’ll be there in a moment,” Harry answered. His eyes were troubled, and all for Hermione. Hermione blushed at the rapt attention. Moody made a hmphing noise, nodded, and once again made for the door. He paused just inside, however, and peered at Malfoy where he stood in the shadows. Hermione picked out open deliberation on Moody’s features right before he turned away. He left the room, his false leg thumping down the hall.
Harry sighed and leaned against the table, facing her. “Hermione, how are you really feeling?”
“I’m… much better, thank you.”
Pomfrey tsked, lowering her wand. “Ms Lovegood is lending her assistance.”
Harry’s eyes flicked to the ceiling. “Luna, are you sure you can—”
He stopped. It took Hermione a few sluggish seconds to realise that he was listening. The tense look on his face relaxed and was replaced by something resembling awe. Harry shook his head. “Alright,” he murmured.
Everyone else was nodding, their expressions varying degrees of Harry’s. Hermione frowned. “Wait a moment, why can’t I hear her anymore?”
I didn’t want to overwhelm you, Hermione. I’m sorry.
All she could do was nod. The sheer expanse of power Luna must have been wielding hit her like a wall. After only a few seconds, she had to close her eyes and force herself not to think about it.
Pomfrey continued to work her wand painstakingly over Hermione’s temple, brushing back into her hair and trailing down the nape of her neck. And all the while, Harry spoke to Luna.
“How far can you see? To call people home.”
“Harry,” Oliver warned. But Harry only pursed his lips.
I can do it, Luna’s voice came pleasantly into Hermione’s head. She could almost see the strange, flighty girl’s smile. I can look for him.
“Luna,” Oliver started, but she answered before he could go on.
It’s perfectly alright.
“Can you see him now?” Harry asked.
No. When Hermione is feeling better, I will look for him.
“And the castle wards?”
Everything will be fine, Harry.
“Alright.” Harry straightened, then bent again and took Hermione’s hand. “I have to go. Kingsley and Hestia will have news.”
“I’ll be alright,” Hermione answered. It was still disorienting, to see Harry assuming his role right in front of her. In all these months, she’d never gotten used to it. Harry squeezed her hand and stood, drawing his fingers away and turning for the door. He looked first at Ginny, then at Malfoy as he exited. Ginny glared back blatantly, a fixed thinness to her mouth. But Malfoy didn’t look at Harry at all. And then Harry was gone.
Oliver rose from his seat and walked the length of the room. “It’s got to take something out of her, hasn’t it? She can’t just go around searching for everyone. They could be miles from here.”
“She knows what she can do,” Malfoy said abruptly. “Try and give her a little credit, Wood.”
“Quiet, the lot of you,” Pomfrey cut in, her mouth an annoyed line. “If you aren’t going to assist the process, then you may leave.”
Malfoy pushed off the wall right away, pulled open the door, and was gone. Hermione blinked. Ginny sighed and slouched lower in her seat. Opened her mouth, but closed it again without saying a word.
For the next few minutes, Pomfrey worked, muttering over her wand. She pulled her bag open, removed several small vials, and began mixing different amounts from the contents of each into a larger flask. She had just capped the third vial and was reaching for the fourth when she paused. Her head came up.
“Oh. Hestia,” she stated flatly, then her gaze sharpened on Hermione. “That was Ms Lovegood. I’ve got to go. Here.” She tapped three drops from the fourth vial into the flask, gave it a swirl, and handed it to Hermione. “Drink this down, then go to bed. No wandering about. I expect to see you sleeping in my Infirmary when I get back.”
“I’ll see that she gets there,” Ginny offered. Her hand had found Hermione’s again.
Pomfrey nodded and stood, packing up her bag. She eyed them all beadily. “On second thought, you could all do with a little sleep. Remember where you are.”
With that, she left the room. The door swung shut behind her. Oliver heaved a sigh, scratched his head, and gestured the way she’d gone. “Not a bad idea,” was all he said.
Hermione cleared her throat and drained her flask in one quick gulp. It didn’t taste as bad as she’d expected, and it soothed her throat going down. “Go on, Wood. Just let me get my feet together and we’ll be leaving.”
As soon as he was gone, Hermione sat back and smiled at Ginny, relieved to once more be in the company of her friend. “It’s good to be here,” she sighed. “There were times I thought I’d never reach the castle.”
But the friendly reply she’d hoped for never came. Ginny smiled at her tightly and looked down at the table.
“Ginny. What?”
The other girl glanced up and then away. As if… Hermione frowned. As if she were avoiding looking at her. “Is something wrong?”
“Oh.” Ginny smiled at last, too quickly and a little too wide. “It’s nothing. I’m just… It’s been a tiring week. As usual.”
Hermione didn’t know if she bought it. But then again… Ginny was right. It had been a tiring week. A tiring year. And maybe her friend was just on edge, what with all the pressure upon her. Hermione smiled sympathetically. Before she could say anything, however, Ginny heaved herself to her feet.
“Goodness, I should be letting you sleep. Let’s get you to Pomfrey’s, yeah?”
She held out her hand. Despite her nagging uneasiness, Hermione reached out and took it.
* * *
Kingsley Shacklebolt slumped into the high-backed chair like a wilted flower. He rubbed one big hand over his face. Harry could see circles under his bloodshot eyes. “She should be fine. Hit with some sort of a Mumming hex. She hasn’t been able to say a word for almost a week.”
Hestia Jones had been whisked away by Madam Pomfrey mere seconds ago. The poor woman had gone down the hall nodding absently at everything the Healer said to her. Harry narrowed his eyes at the now-closed door. “Just a Mumming hex?”
Kingsley shrugged. “That’s what I said. And believe me, I watched her. But nothing else ever came up, so I figure she caught a stray spell. Unless their ultimate dastardly plan is to keep us all from casting any verbal spells at all. Death Eaters aren’t perfect, you know.”
“Merlin, I hope not,” Harry muttered. Kingsley’s face cracked into a tired grin.
“Enough chit-chat,” Moody growled. “What are we going to do about Finnigan?”
Harry drew himself up. “Luna’s going to look for him.”
Kingsley frowned up at him. “Can she do that, too?”
Moody made a dismissive sound and clunked over to the hearth. Harry tried his best to ignore it. “She says she can.”
“May I remind you that she’s the first person we know of to use a Siren’s Ward in centuries?” Moody snapped. “We have no idea how far she can look, or how it might compromise the wards. This entire castle could pop up on the Death Eaters’ maps for all we know.”
“She’d never put us in danger like that,” Harry said, irritated. “What, you don’t trust her now?”
“It’s not a matter of trust, Potter,” Moody retorted. “We just can’t take the chance.”
Harry looked to Kingsley for help, but the other man was just staring back at him, a troubled look on his face. The Auror raised his eyebrows and his shoulders. Harry stepped back, nettled.
“I’m telling you, she’ll do it. She’s got more control over that thing than any of us know. She was just in there healing Hermione alongside Madam Pomfrey!”
Even that didn’t seem able to break through Kingsley’s weariness. He did nod thoughtfully. Moody’s magical eye spun in its socket. “There’s too much at stake, Potter.”
“So, what? Send someone else out?” Harry resisted the urge to pace. “Just ten minutes ago you were entirely against the idea.”
“It might be the only option, Harry,” Kingsley said. “Hells, I’m not even sure if it’s a good idea to go after him at all. But I don’t much like the notion of telling everyone else that, now that they know the subject is up for debate. It would have been better if fewer people knew what happened to him.”
“Couldn’t be helped,” Moody said simply. “Granger told all of us at once.”
“So let Luna look,” Harry broke in. “It’s the safest option. You said it yourself, it would be best if no one left the castle. She’ll find him.”
“And Zabini?” Moody said.
Kingsley shut his eyes. “Godric Almighty, Zabini’s missing, too? No wonder Finnigan ran off.”
“He’s not missing,” Harry muttered. And said nothing else. The only people who knew what Blaise was up to were himself, Moody, and Dumbledore. And Luna, perhaps, if her powers really were that monumental. “And that’s beside the point. Oliver’s right, Seamus could be responding to any amount of dark magic.”
“Sending one person out is the option that risks the fewest people,” Moody countered. “It doesn’t matter if they’ve been in the castle. They’ll never be able to direct Death Eaters back, not even under Veritaserum. But only if the wards remain intact.”
“They will remain intact,” Harry snapped. “She knows what she’s doing.”
“Potter, we have able-bodied people here. It’s ridiculous to risk everyone when a single person—”
Harry smacked his fist into the wall, making Kingsley jump. “No one goes out,” he snarled. Moody met his gaze coolly, fearsomely. Harry had a moment’s instinctive fright and forced it away. “If Luna can’t find him, then we’ll consider that option. But not before.”
He waited for the mutiny. He could see it growing in Moody’s face. The older Auror looked as though he might begin to spit sparks. Kingsley stared at them mutely, offering no acknowledgement or denial.
Harry jerked the door open and left the room before any words could make themselves heard. He made it all the way to his chambers and fell asleep alone in his bed, listening to the low thrum of lute-notes ticking away the hours.
...
Chapter 20
IMPORTANT: Note that my warning has been changed. Anyone worried about DH issues, please make sure you read it.
Title: The Road (19/?)
Author:
rurounihimeRating: hard R when all is said and done…
Pairing: H/D eventually
Summary: In the midst of a disintegrating war, Harry awaits the arrival of the Order’s last hope.
Warning: violence, character death, spoilers for all books except DH (I have not finished reading it yet). This fic is now AU because of Deathly Hallows. I have not included any major spoilers from the book so far. But that is not to say that some won’t sneak in as I continue writing the later sections.
Disclaimer: The HP characters and most of the spellwork do not belong to me.
A/N: Thank you to April for her fabulous and attentive beta-ing, and to Coffee for constantly letting me bounce ideas off of her. The other major pairing in this is Blaise/Seamus, but there are minor het pairings as well.
…
No artwork or music for this chapter.
…
**ETA: THIS CHAPTER HAS RECEIVED ITS FINAL EDIT**
Previous chapters
Chapter 19: A Tale of Woe
“Hannah’s dead.” Hermione clutched the mug in both hands. Some sort of warm liquid; she hadn’t attempted to drink it yet. She looked down at the wooden table before her and drew a deep breath. “I was supposed to meet her in Salisbury, but they… got there first.”
Ginny’s freckled hand crept over hers from across the table and tightened. Hermione heard Harry draw a breath of his own. He leaned against the table, bracing with both hands. “Death Eaters?”
Hermione nodded. She blinked to clear her eyes. “One of them chased me all over England. They knew I would be there. They waited for me. They must have gotten something out of Hannah before—”
She stopped. No one asked her to continue.
“Then maybe they did know,” Ginny murmured. Her blue eyes were troubled. They darted across the room, fixing briefly on the person standing there. Hermione looked too and saw Draco Malfoy shift his weight fitfully. She glanced at Harry and noticed a resigned twist to his lips.
“What?”
Harry straightened. “Malfoy and Ginny were stopped by Death Eaters.”
“What?” Hermione burst out over Harry’s words. She grabbed Ginny’s fingers. “Ginny—”
“We’re fine.” Ginny licked her lips. Glanced again toward Malfoy. Hermione frowned, unable to place the weird conflict in her friend’s face. Ginny continued. “Really, Hermione, we are. Only, they intimated that…”
“They knew she was the real target,” Moody growled from the other end of the table. He banged his walking stick down in frustration. “Abbott must have told them.”
“We have no way of knowing any of that,” Harry said firmly, and the room quieted. “We don’t know what she said. If she said anything.” He kneaded his forehead with his fingers and Hermione saw his face spasm. “Gods.”
“Either way,” Moody said darkly, “we have a problem. They can count one more off their list, and if there are any Death Eater scum worth their salt, they may have already deduced something from the fact that Lovegood hasn’t physically turned up anywhere for the last few months—”
Hermione jerked upright. “They have Luna’s wand. And Hannah’s. I couldn’t find either.”
“Then they have Lovegood’s magical signature.” Moody pushed up from his seat, pointing a gnarled finger at Hermione. “You still have your wand, Granger?”
“Of course I do!” Hermione answered hotly. “And Ginny’s, but—”
Moody waved his hand. “They may already know enough about you both just from tracking you across the damned countryside. And now they’ve got hold of two wands from one person. If they’ve figured out that Weasley is the one to be bound to Potter, then they—”
Harry smacked both hands down on the table. “We can’t do a thing about that now, even if we did know either way. There are more immediate questions to be answered!”
Hermione stared at Harry. At Ginny, and found her cheeks inexplicably red and her eyes downcast. Over by the door, Malfoy fidgeted uneasily. He wasn’t looking at anyone in the room, rather pointedly, Hermione thought. But before she could ponder further, Harry gripped her wrist insistently enough to startle her.
“Hermione,” he said in a low tone. “Why are you alone? Didn’t Seamus find you?”
All thoughts of Ginny and Malfoy went right out of her head. “No, no, he found me. He did. Two days ago. Somewhere in southern Devon, as far as I could tell. But… he left.”
Harry’s face went slack with surprise. “He what?”
“I…” Hermione gathered herself, somehow still shocked to realise that her answers had not appeared before her in the interim. “This morning, early. He said he had to leave, to go. I don’t know. He was in a horrid state.”
“Irresponsible, slipshod, unconscionable behaviour!” Moody snapped. His good eye glowed fiercely, the other rolling wildly in its socket. “If he makes it back here alive, he’s going to regret it once I get hold of him!”
Hermione struggled to find her voice while murmurs rose around her. “No, you don’t understand,” she hastened, clutching the tabletop. “It wasn’t like that at all. He—”
Everyone was looking at her. Hermione felt her face heat and focussed on Harry. Yes, Harry, he would… “You should have seen him, Harry. He was completely terrified. Something was wrong, he said, with Blaise, and he—He was leaping right out of his skin.”
Harry stiffened. Glanced up over her head at Moody. “Blaise?”
“It was ridiculous,” Hermione continued. “I mean, we’d not seen him, we didn’t even know where he was. But Seamus… I couldn’t keep him there, Harry, he was—it was as if he knew. I couldn’t make him stay!”
She was beginning to plead, she could hear it. Who was she trying to convince, herself? There was no way to make them understand. But she remembered the look in Seamus’ eye, the cracks running through his voice.
Harry watched her, an odd expression on his face. She heard Moody clunk up behind.
“A spell?” the old Auror grated. “Hallucinatory?”
Oliver Wood stirred where he sat a ways down the table. “It’s possible. I’ve seen them at work. In London.”
“No, no, no.” Hermione shook her head fervently. “It wasn’t like that, you don’t understand. He was genuinely terrified.”
“But that’s precisely what the hallucinatory spells do, Hermione,” Oliver shot back. “They feed off of a person’s genuine fear.”
“I know what I saw!” A flare of pain erupted behind her eyes and she bit off whatever might have followed, pressing her fingers to her brow. She could hear the subtle movement of the others in the room, and her throat and face felt hot. She suddenly felt like a silly schoolgirl vying for attention. Merlin, what had she seen? Maybe Oliver was right, maybe Seamus had been—Oh, she couldn’t think and they were all staring at her.
“Hermione?” That was Harry. Ginny’s fingers squeezed hers. Hermione shook her head wordlessly. Harry must have turned. “Someone get Madam Pomfrey.”
For a moment, nobody moved. Then Ginny’s grip loosened and she started to rise. Her eyes were trained sharply on Harry, and something in her face looked especially raw. Ginny’s gaze darted for just an instant, a mere twitch. “I’ll go.”
Harry returned her gaze, jaw strangely tight. Hermione could make no sense of it, and then Oliver spoke.
“No, Luna has it. Pomfrey’s coming.”
For the first time since entering the castle, Hermione became aware of Luna’s singing. It had somehow drifted directly into her blood, becoming nothing but calming white noise. Now it grew richer in tone, very briefly, and sank away again. Hermione blinked rapidly. “She can… talk to people here?”
“In your head,” was all Harry said. He still had not looked away from Ginny. But Ginny was no longer looking at him. She stared down at the table with white lips.
Against the door, Malfoy stirred again, restlessly.
And then Harry broke the moment. “Alright. Hermione. Is it your impression that Seamus was in trouble?”
“If he’s under a hallucinatory spell, trouble doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Moody muttered. Harry lifted a hand without looking behind him.
“Hallucinatory spell or no,” he continued, his tone edgier, “is he in trouble?”
“I…” Hermione felt pole-axed. “I don’t know what else it could have been. He was afraid. Terrified. Of something.”
“Then we can’t just leave him out there,” Oliver said. “Anyone could find him, and if he’s not himself—”
The large door creaked. Malfoy startled and lurched out of the way on swift steps. The door swung inward, admitting the careworn figure of Madam Pomfrey gripping a worn leather bag. She took stock of the room and its occupants, then headed directly to Hermione. Her wand was in her hand before anyone could greet her, and Hermione jumped at the cool trickle of sensory magic over her ears and cheeks. She made herself hold still, trying to fix her eyes on something else and finding Malfoy in the shadow of the door. His face was unreadable.
“He’s not himself,” she said after a moment’s silence. “He’s… Where is Zabini, anyway? If he’s going to find him, then maybe we can find them both. Bring them back.”
She saw the quick glance Harry and Moody exchanged. If they hadn’t done it at the same moment, she wouldn’t have thought anything of it. “He’s not near here. Seamus won’t just be able to ‘find him.’”
“If anyone can find him, it’ll be Seamus,” Ginny said stiffly. Hermione looked sharply at her friend, as sharply as her aching head would allow. Beside her, Madam Pomfrey clucked warningly.
“Hold still, Ms Granger. I haven’t finished.”
Hermione bit her tongue and forced herself to stop moving, and all the while the gentle flow drifted through her like a liquid. She set her jaw and looked at Harry again. “You said we’re calling them all in. Everyone who can make it. We can’t leave Seamus out there.”
Oliver cleared his throat. “I agree.”
Hermione smiled at him gratefully before turning back to Harry. “If you have any idea where Zabini is, then maybe—”
But Harry was shaking his head. “Finding Blaise is not an option. Alright? And Seamus knows even less about where he is than I do. There’s no way he’d ever find him, not without a tracking spell.”
“Would he use one, though?” That was Ginny, her tone rising out of that unusual sullenness into concern. “Would he be foolish enough to—That is, I mean, if he is under some sort of spell?”
Oliver snorted. “There’s no telling what he could do under a hallucinatory spell. He could be seeing his own mum for all we know.”
Hermione opened her mouth, but her headache intensified and she sank back, raising a hand to her temple. The tip of Pomfrey’s wand alighted on her forehead and held there. She felt the drone of new magic through her skin.
Her silence hardly mattered, however; Oliver was speaking for her. “Someone has to go after him. We can’t just leave him out there to wander around. If any Death Eaters got hold of him, you know what they’ll do.”
“And who do you suggest we send?” Moody growled. “We only sent him out after Granger here, and look what’s happened. You want to send Potter?”
“I could go,” Oliver countered heatedly. “Or you, Moody.”
“Or Malfoy,” Ginny muttered, very quietly. Again Hermione stared at her friend. Ginny was looking at the table fixedly, her mouth turned downward in an unbecoming grimace. Confusion boiled Hermione’s frustration into full out annoyance.
“Oh, for Godric’s sake. I’ll go,” she said, grabbing the table for purchase and almost tumbling over in her haste to gain her feet. “Someone has to go out there and find—”
“Absolutely not, Ms Granger!” Pomfrey snapped. Her hand was an iron band on Hermione’s wrist. “You’re not going anywhere. You’ve been Apparating Merlin knows where! Small wonder you haven’t splinched yourself irreparably.”
Harry’s voice sounded weary. “Is she alright?”
“No,” the older woman said, very crisply. “No, she’s not. She’s Apparated too often in too short a period of time. It could be days before she recovers fully. Weeks. I have no way of knowing here. And the longer you keep the two of us out of my Infirmary, the less of a chance I’ll have to figure out what she’s done to herself!”
A vague sort of panic throbbed at Hermione’s nerves. She squinted, and the ache rolling in her skull expanded. Ginny was looking at her, eyes wide with concern.
“You’re all idiots,” came Malfoy’s voice, low and empty over by the door. “Look at you. You can’t go out after him. You’ve no idea where to look. They’ll find you. They’ve probably found him already.”
It was the despair under his tone that drew everyone’s attention. At least it drew Hermione’s. Pomfrey was still gripping her wrist.
“Luna can do it,” was all Harry said.
And the arguing began again.
“Lovegood is not your personal Floo line, Potter!” from Moody. From Oliver, an all too telling outburst about the damage such a thing could do to Luna, secondarily to the wards. Pomfrey began to call for silence. Ginny sank into herself, arms tight around her chest like a cocoon, and Hermione barely looked away in time to see Malfoy cover his face with one hand.
When she returned for a second glance, his expression was blank again, body rigid. It was as though he’d never moved.
Amidst the uproar, something rippled alarmingly through the air, cutting the voices off. Prickles crawled along Hermione’s arms. “What in Godric’s name was that?”
“Luna’s lowering the wards,” Harry said faintly.
Hermione’s heart leaped into her throat at the announcement, but Moody only heaved himself away from the table with a sigh. “More arrivals. Who is it this time?”
Luna’s crystalline voice shivered around the room soothingly, but Hermione clutched her chair. Her head began to pound feverishly. “She just lets the wards down? Just like that?”
“No, not just like that,” Malfoy muttered sourly from his corner. “By all the Founders, Granger, have some sense.”
Hermione glared at him, but before she could retort, a fresh ache bloomed in her forehead and Pomfrey shushed her. Harry, whose head had been cocked slightly, eyes shut, now opened them wide and blinked twice. “That’s Hestia, and Kingsley.”
A look of relief flittered over Moody’s craggy face. It occurred to Hermione how strange it must be, to be constantly surrounded by… well, people one would consider to be children.
Are you alright, Hermione?
Hermione jumped. Looked around. But no one else seemed to have heard a thing. She swallowed. Bowed her head and whispered, “Luna?”
Yes.
“I’m…” She stopped as Pomfrey frowned at her. Hermione waited until the Healer had returned her attention to wherever it had been and then raised a hand to cover her mouth surreptitiously. “I’m fine.”
As though Luna had really heard her—which Hermione was still finding difficult to wrap her mind around—a new warmth tickled through her temples, sweeping gradually down her neck and into her shoulders. The pain in her head eased at last. Luna’s song sounded more glorious than ever.
You are quite muddled, Luna said simply, as if commenting on her hair or… Goodness, what was she thinking? There was a bloody voice in her head! Hermione tried not to fidget, and Luna went on. Your insides are all mixed up. I’ll try and sort you out.
“N—” Hermione caught herself before the instinctive response slipped free. She clutched the arm of her chair with both hands. It felt good, whatever Luna was doing. But Hermione couldn’t ignore the nagging memory of an owlish girl who read books upside down and walked quite blissfully into cobwebby statues without noticing a thing. And here Luna was now, fussing around inside her body.
Moody clunked around the table, grim determination twisting his face. “I’d best go see to them. We have things to discuss. Potter. If you please?”
“I’ll be there in a moment,” Harry answered. His eyes were troubled, and all for Hermione. Hermione blushed at the rapt attention. Moody made a hmphing noise, nodded, and once again made for the door. He paused just inside, however, and peered at Malfoy where he stood in the shadows. Hermione picked out open deliberation on Moody’s features right before he turned away. He left the room, his false leg thumping down the hall.
Harry sighed and leaned against the table, facing her. “Hermione, how are you really feeling?”
“I’m… much better, thank you.”
Pomfrey tsked, lowering her wand. “Ms Lovegood is lending her assistance.”
Harry’s eyes flicked to the ceiling. “Luna, are you sure you can—”
He stopped. It took Hermione a few sluggish seconds to realise that he was listening. The tense look on his face relaxed and was replaced by something resembling awe. Harry shook his head. “Alright,” he murmured.
Everyone else was nodding, their expressions varying degrees of Harry’s. Hermione frowned. “Wait a moment, why can’t I hear her anymore?”
I didn’t want to overwhelm you, Hermione. I’m sorry.
All she could do was nod. The sheer expanse of power Luna must have been wielding hit her like a wall. After only a few seconds, she had to close her eyes and force herself not to think about it.
Pomfrey continued to work her wand painstakingly over Hermione’s temple, brushing back into her hair and trailing down the nape of her neck. And all the while, Harry spoke to Luna.
“How far can you see? To call people home.”
“Harry,” Oliver warned. But Harry only pursed his lips.
I can do it, Luna’s voice came pleasantly into Hermione’s head. She could almost see the strange, flighty girl’s smile. I can look for him.
“Luna,” Oliver started, but she answered before he could go on.
It’s perfectly alright.
“Can you see him now?” Harry asked.
No. When Hermione is feeling better, I will look for him.
“And the castle wards?”
Everything will be fine, Harry.
“Alright.” Harry straightened, then bent again and took Hermione’s hand. “I have to go. Kingsley and Hestia will have news.”
“I’ll be alright,” Hermione answered. It was still disorienting, to see Harry assuming his role right in front of her. In all these months, she’d never gotten used to it. Harry squeezed her hand and stood, drawing his fingers away and turning for the door. He looked first at Ginny, then at Malfoy as he exited. Ginny glared back blatantly, a fixed thinness to her mouth. But Malfoy didn’t look at Harry at all. And then Harry was gone.
Oliver rose from his seat and walked the length of the room. “It’s got to take something out of her, hasn’t it? She can’t just go around searching for everyone. They could be miles from here.”
“She knows what she can do,” Malfoy said abruptly. “Try and give her a little credit, Wood.”
“Quiet, the lot of you,” Pomfrey cut in, her mouth an annoyed line. “If you aren’t going to assist the process, then you may leave.”
Malfoy pushed off the wall right away, pulled open the door, and was gone. Hermione blinked. Ginny sighed and slouched lower in her seat. Opened her mouth, but closed it again without saying a word.
For the next few minutes, Pomfrey worked, muttering over her wand. She pulled her bag open, removed several small vials, and began mixing different amounts from the contents of each into a larger flask. She had just capped the third vial and was reaching for the fourth when she paused. Her head came up.
“Oh. Hestia,” she stated flatly, then her gaze sharpened on Hermione. “That was Ms Lovegood. I’ve got to go. Here.” She tapped three drops from the fourth vial into the flask, gave it a swirl, and handed it to Hermione. “Drink this down, then go to bed. No wandering about. I expect to see you sleeping in my Infirmary when I get back.”
“I’ll see that she gets there,” Ginny offered. Her hand had found Hermione’s again.
Pomfrey nodded and stood, packing up her bag. She eyed them all beadily. “On second thought, you could all do with a little sleep. Remember where you are.”
With that, she left the room. The door swung shut behind her. Oliver heaved a sigh, scratched his head, and gestured the way she’d gone. “Not a bad idea,” was all he said.
Hermione cleared her throat and drained her flask in one quick gulp. It didn’t taste as bad as she’d expected, and it soothed her throat going down. “Go on, Wood. Just let me get my feet together and we’ll be leaving.”
As soon as he was gone, Hermione sat back and smiled at Ginny, relieved to once more be in the company of her friend. “It’s good to be here,” she sighed. “There were times I thought I’d never reach the castle.”
But the friendly reply she’d hoped for never came. Ginny smiled at her tightly and looked down at the table.
“Ginny. What?”
The other girl glanced up and then away. As if… Hermione frowned. As if she were avoiding looking at her. “Is something wrong?”
“Oh.” Ginny smiled at last, too quickly and a little too wide. “It’s nothing. I’m just… It’s been a tiring week. As usual.”
Hermione didn’t know if she bought it. But then again… Ginny was right. It had been a tiring week. A tiring year. And maybe her friend was just on edge, what with all the pressure upon her. Hermione smiled sympathetically. Before she could say anything, however, Ginny heaved herself to her feet.
“Goodness, I should be letting you sleep. Let’s get you to Pomfrey’s, yeah?”
She held out her hand. Despite her nagging uneasiness, Hermione reached out and took it.
* * *
Kingsley Shacklebolt slumped into the high-backed chair like a wilted flower. He rubbed one big hand over his face. Harry could see circles under his bloodshot eyes. “She should be fine. Hit with some sort of a Mumming hex. She hasn’t been able to say a word for almost a week.”
Hestia Jones had been whisked away by Madam Pomfrey mere seconds ago. The poor woman had gone down the hall nodding absently at everything the Healer said to her. Harry narrowed his eyes at the now-closed door. “Just a Mumming hex?”
Kingsley shrugged. “That’s what I said. And believe me, I watched her. But nothing else ever came up, so I figure she caught a stray spell. Unless their ultimate dastardly plan is to keep us all from casting any verbal spells at all. Death Eaters aren’t perfect, you know.”
“Merlin, I hope not,” Harry muttered. Kingsley’s face cracked into a tired grin.
“Enough chit-chat,” Moody growled. “What are we going to do about Finnigan?”
Harry drew himself up. “Luna’s going to look for him.”
Kingsley frowned up at him. “Can she do that, too?”
Moody made a dismissive sound and clunked over to the hearth. Harry tried his best to ignore it. “She says she can.”
“May I remind you that she’s the first person we know of to use a Siren’s Ward in centuries?” Moody snapped. “We have no idea how far she can look, or how it might compromise the wards. This entire castle could pop up on the Death Eaters’ maps for all we know.”
“She’d never put us in danger like that,” Harry said, irritated. “What, you don’t trust her now?”
“It’s not a matter of trust, Potter,” Moody retorted. “We just can’t take the chance.”
Harry looked to Kingsley for help, but the other man was just staring back at him, a troubled look on his face. The Auror raised his eyebrows and his shoulders. Harry stepped back, nettled.
“I’m telling you, she’ll do it. She’s got more control over that thing than any of us know. She was just in there healing Hermione alongside Madam Pomfrey!”
Even that didn’t seem able to break through Kingsley’s weariness. He did nod thoughtfully. Moody’s magical eye spun in its socket. “There’s too much at stake, Potter.”
“So, what? Send someone else out?” Harry resisted the urge to pace. “Just ten minutes ago you were entirely against the idea.”
“It might be the only option, Harry,” Kingsley said. “Hells, I’m not even sure if it’s a good idea to go after him at all. But I don’t much like the notion of telling everyone else that, now that they know the subject is up for debate. It would have been better if fewer people knew what happened to him.”
“Couldn’t be helped,” Moody said simply. “Granger told all of us at once.”
“So let Luna look,” Harry broke in. “It’s the safest option. You said it yourself, it would be best if no one left the castle. She’ll find him.”
“And Zabini?” Moody said.
Kingsley shut his eyes. “Godric Almighty, Zabini’s missing, too? No wonder Finnigan ran off.”
“He’s not missing,” Harry muttered. And said nothing else. The only people who knew what Blaise was up to were himself, Moody, and Dumbledore. And Luna, perhaps, if her powers really were that monumental. “And that’s beside the point. Oliver’s right, Seamus could be responding to any amount of dark magic.”
“Sending one person out is the option that risks the fewest people,” Moody countered. “It doesn’t matter if they’ve been in the castle. They’ll never be able to direct Death Eaters back, not even under Veritaserum. But only if the wards remain intact.”
“They will remain intact,” Harry snapped. “She knows what she’s doing.”
“Potter, we have able-bodied people here. It’s ridiculous to risk everyone when a single person—”
Harry smacked his fist into the wall, making Kingsley jump. “No one goes out,” he snarled. Moody met his gaze coolly, fearsomely. Harry had a moment’s instinctive fright and forced it away. “If Luna can’t find him, then we’ll consider that option. But not before.”
He waited for the mutiny. He could see it growing in Moody’s face. The older Auror looked as though he might begin to spit sparks. Kingsley stared at them mutely, offering no acknowledgement or denial.
Harry jerked the door open and left the room before any words could make themselves heard. He made it all the way to his chambers and fell asleep alone in his bed, listening to the low thrum of lute-notes ticking away the hours.
...
Chapter 20
