Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Damaged Bridges	By : Gandalfs-Beard Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 46850 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 6
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, all rights belong to Rowling and Warner Bros, nor do I make any money from the production of this work.

Chapter List
- 24
- 25
- 26
Dangerous Treatise

The quiche was heavenly, the crust perfectly flaky and the egg, cheese, and bacon in the middle melting in Hermione’s mouth. Hermione washed it down with sips of tea and glanced at Harry to see how he was enjoying the change in menu.
She inwardly sighed, recognising that brooding look. It hadn’t taken long for Harry’s mood to drift back into apprehension. It hadn’t even been twenty four hours since destroying the second to last horcrux - the second in a space of just a few days no less. Generally speaking, Hermione was no better than Harry at relaxing and letting the grass grow under her feet, but this seemed to be taking things a bit far.
“Penny for your thoughts, Harry?” she said, hoping to snap him out of it.
“What?” Harry looked a bit startled, then a bit shifty when he caught Hermione’s aggravated expression. “Oh, er... nothing really.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Please, Harry! You can’t fool me. I know you better than that. Come on, out with it. ... You want to go after Voldemort and his snake now, don’t you? ... Like right now, I mean.”
“Er...” The corners of Harry’s lips lifted slightly as peered back at her sheepishly. “Okay - yeah! I suppose I am being a bit impatient.”
Dora, who was joining Harry and Hermione for brunch even though she had already eaten lunch with the others, snorted mirthfully, thankfully having swallowed her sip of tea.
“Take a breather Harry,” she chortled. “You’ve earned it. You, me, none of us are gonna do anyone any good unless we catch our breaths and take stock of things before we make our next move.”
“I’ll try,” Harry sighed, nodding. “It’s just - I just remembered something I saw a few days ago at the Ministry. There were these pamphlets in one of Umbridge’s offices - her Propaganda Office - there was one about the Muggleborn Menace. It was basically questioning whether or not muggleborns were good or bad.
“And there was one about Mis... Misck-something or other - I’ve never read the word the before. It was about whether or not Wizards should be allowed to marry Muggles...”
“Miscegenation!” Hermione hissed angrily. “Of course the Ministry would be against that now...”
“Bloody hell!” Dora’s eyes widened in shock. “Hang on a sec! Those must’ve been in production for a while - ever since Umbridge took over the Ministry! Now that the Minister is openly supporting Voldy and the takeover of Hogwarts, she’s probably goin’ all in... I mean, the propaganda would probably be totally anti-Muggle and anti-Muggleborn now...”
“That’s what I was thinking,” said Harry, nodding worriedly. “What if they’re already rounding up Muggleborns now? ... That’s why I want to finish Voldemort as quickly as possible. Minister Umbridge wouldn’t last two seconds without Voldemort backing her - the Order would be able to take over the Ministry and give her the boot....”
“...and then we could put a stop to it - to whatever they’d be doing to Muggleborns if they’ve started rounding them up,” said Hermione, feeling horrified now, and more than a bit apologetic for questioning Harry’s moodiness. “No wonder you want to get cracking on looking for Voldemort. Maybe we should...”
“Now hold your horses, you two,” said Dora. “Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves. We need to find out if the Ministry really has started an anti-Muggleborn programme first. The Order could already be on it, and we really do need a breather - at least a few days before jumping back into things.”
“But what if they don’t know yet?” Harry argued. “The Order I mean - they’re focused on Voldemort and his lot at the moment, and they’ve probably got too much to do as it is. If we can help get to Voldemort quicker, I was thinking that maybe some of the Order would be able to start dealing with the Ministry.”
“I think Harry might be right,” Hemione added, her chest heaving with anxiety.
“Maybe so,” said Dora. “But first we need to check with Dumbledore - see if the Order knows anything yet. If not, then I should pop out in disguise and see what I can find out before we do anything.”
“But you’re pregnant,” said Harry, who was starting to really look agitated now. “It’s too dangerous...”
“I’ll be in disguise,” Dora retorted. “And anyway, I already told you, Harry, there’s no way in hell I’m sitting on the sidelines as long as I can get around...”
Unwilling to let the argument turn into a row, Hermione already had her mirror in hand, determined to put a stop to it before things went any further.
“Professor Dumbledore,” she squeaked into the mirror, “If you’re there, please answer. Professor Dumbledore...”
To Hermione’s great relief, Dumbledore’s clear blue eyes peered back at her from the mirror. The background looked different than it had last night; he appeared to be in a house with flowery wallpaper.
“Miss Granger,” said Dumbledore, sounding a bit surprised, “I hadn’t thought to hear from you or Harry for a few days at least, after Harry had recovered somewhat...”
“That’s just it,” said Hermione, “Harry wants to get out there right now to track down Voldemort...”
Harry and Dora had stopped arguing, both of them looking at Hermione now, for which Hermione was very grateful.
“...He spotted something at the Ministry the other day,” she went on, “some pamphlets in the propaganda office, and he thinks the Ministry might already be trying to round up Muggleborns. Have you heard anything about that?”
Dumbledore sighed and rubbed at his crinkled forehead. “That would be news to me - the Order is currently focusing all its efforts on countering Voldemort’s forces which have been hunting down Muggleborns themselves and committing random acts of violence against Muggle targets to keep us busy trying to protect them.
“I do have several moles still in the Auror office - but I cannot risk exposing them by contacting them at the moment - I was expecting a report from one this evening...”
“What about Mr. Weasley?” said Harry, who had drawn closer to Hermione and was now looking over her shoulder into the mirror. “His office is in the D.M.L.E. - Umbridge knows he’s on our side.”
“All those who were employed at the Ministry who were openly associated with me were recalled at the weekend,” Dumbledore reassured Harry. “Arthur is safe and sound - as is Molly - and they have already been moved to a safehouse.”
Dora was now peering over Hermione’s other shoulder into the mirror.
“I don’t think Harry can wait till tonight to find out from your mole what’s going on at the Ministry,” she said, “and t’tell you the truth, neither can I. What say I pop out in disguise to Diagon Alley? ... If anything’s up - like roundin’ up Muggleborns - the Ministry is sure to have made it public with new propaganda or through the Daily Prophet.”
Dumbledore’s eyes flickered shrewdly from Dora to Harry.
“Very well!” Dumbledore nodded with a rather wry expression. “But take Harry with you as back-up - I’m sure that between the three of you, your transfiguration skills are more than adequate to disguise him as well...”
“If they’re going, then I’m going too,” said Hermione adamantly. “I can be disguised as well.”
“No,” said Harry.
“You’re not going to keep me out of things, Harry!” Hermione snapped.
“That’s not what I meant,” said Harry quickly. “I was going to say that maybe you should be invisible - either with my cloak or the Disillusionment Charm.”
“Er...” Hermione felt a bit bewildered. Harry didn’t look like he was just being over-protective come to think about it, “Why should I be invisible?”
“Because if we somehow get rumbled, you’ll be our ‘secret weapon’” said Harry, grinning.
“Oh!” Hermione turned pink and smiled sheepishly at Harry, remembering how she had tricked Umbridge to stop her from torturing Harry, and then to lead her into the Forbidden Forest. “That’s very logical, Harry.”
“Yes indeed...” Dumbledore’s voice emanated from the mirror. “Let me know what you find. But no matter what you uncover, I must insist that you take a few more days at the very least before charging off to search for Voldemort.”

~o0o~
The lead Auror in charge of escorting the Dark Lord and his entourage through Azkaban frowned as if uncertain about his assigned task. Draco Malfoy smirked slightly and glanced at the Dark Lord who seemed unconcerned about any doubts that some of the Aurors might harbour. Several Dementors also glided alongside the odd group, kept at bay by the Patronuses of the three Aurors.
Draco was disappointed when they arrived at the next cell. Like the two they had already stopped at, this one did not hold his father; it held Crabbe’s. Herbert Crabbe eyed the Dark Lord fearfully, and when the Lead Auror unlocked the iron door of the cell, Crabbe fell at the Dark Lord’s feet.
“My - my Lord,” said Crabbe as he prostrated himself. “Thank you Master... thank you! I am sorry for failing you - it won’t happen again.”
“On your feet, Crabbe,” said the Dark Lord in that high, deathly cold voice of his. “I do not have time for your groveling. You will have your chance to redeem your failures.”
Impatiently, Draco followed along behind Wormtail who was at the Dark Lord’s side, the footsteps of the growing assemblage echoing in the stone passages of the ancient keep. Draco eyed the three released so far, which included the Lestrange brothers, and kept his restiveness to himself.
Twice more the throng halted, passing numerous cells with haunted, emaciated figures, liberating more of the Dark Lord’s abject followers whom had disappointed him by their capture at the Ministry. Avery and Mulciber joined the rest, looking suitably chastened.
Further down the passage from Mulciber’s cell, the sight of a familiar, scowling young man who looked far healthier than the rest brought Draco up short; a grin crossed Draco’s features, his impatience forgotten.
“Oi, McLaggen - over here!”
McLaggen looked up at Draco, his face a mask of surprise.
“Malfoy? ... What are you doing here?”
“Getting you out if you want to join us,” Draco raised his eyebrows at the Gryffindor who probably would have done well in Slytherin.
“Us?”
“The Dark Lord! ... The Minister is pardoning all of his supporters, and anyone who wants to join up. So, what about it then? You in?”
“Are you bloody serious? You can actually get me out of this hellhole?’
“Yeah, if you want it,” said Draco, smirking at the skeptical looking prisoner. “If you join us, you’ll even get a crack at revenge on Granger and Potter when we find them. Well, the Dark Lord wants Potter for himself, but he’ll probably let you watch him torture and kill Potter. ... How does that sound?”
“That sounds bloody brilliant!” said McLaggen, rising to his feet, a grin on his face. “You really mean that about Granger? I would have thought you’d want that bitch for yourself.”
“I’m willing to give you a turn,” said Draco magnanimously before turning and yelling down the passage. “Hey - I’ve got one who wants to join up - he’s young and healthy, and he hates Potter just as much as me!”
The lead Auror shot the Dark Lord a questioning look; The Dark Lord nodded, a thin, cruel smile on his lips.
“By all means. If Mr. Malfoy believes the prisoner to be useful, then I shall give him the chance to prove his usefulness to me.”
“Yes, sir,” the lead Auror muttered as he strode back towards Draco with his jangling keys.
As Draco followed the others through the ancient stone corridors of the fortress, chatting with an exceedingly grateful Cormac McLaggen, all he could think about now was imagining the look on Potter’s face while watching him and McLaggen defile Potter’s girlfriend in every way imaginable.
Even finding his father in relatively sound condition paled in comparison to that delicious thought.

~o0o~
The back of an ochre coloured armchair was wedged against one of the tall mahogany bookcases in Number Twelve’s library and a slight, elfin girl with dirty blonde hair was precariously perched on her toes on the very top of that armchair, reaching out for the heavy looking tome on the second to the last shelf from the top. Her fingers were nearly there - only an inch and a half more and she would have it.
The fat orange cat splayed across a loveseat on the other side of the library flicked its tail languidly, his eyes widening with shock when he rolled over and spotted the girl teetering on the top of the rear of the armchair, the tips of her fingers nearly touching the black leatherb-ound book.
It all seemed to happen in slow motion. The girl was tumbling through the air, strangely silent, wearing an expression of fascination and surrender on her face. The cat let out a yowl, his fur all on end. An instant later the girl was in the arms of two House-Elves who had caught her before she hit the floor, wondering how they had known to be there on time.
The door of the library flew open and two other girls, one with black hair and one with red, burst into the room.
“Luna!” yelled the panicked red-haired girl. “What happened? What on earth were you doing?”
“Oh, hello Ginny. I was just trying to get that book near the top shelf,” said Luna nonchalantly as the two House-Elves set her on her feet. “I almost had it, then I fell, and then Dobby and Kreacher caught me before I crashed on the floor. I’m not sure how they knew I was falling though.”
“Mistress Hermione’s cat called for us, and we came,” croaked the most ancient House-Elf.
“Oh! That’s very interesting,” said Luna. “So you both understand cat language then?”
“Yes, Miss Luna,” squeaked Dobby. “House-Elves is understanding many creatures...”
“But why were you climbing to get the book?” Parvati interjected, looking very bewildered. “Did you forget you’re a witch?”
“No silly,” Luna giggled. “I tried my wand first, but Accio wouldn’t work on it.”
“Luuuna,” Ginny moaned, a disturbed look on her face. “it’s probably got Dark magic on it then. Why do you want that book?”
“It’s alright Ginny,” said Luna earnestly and apologetically. “It’s not possessed like Tom Riddle’s diary was. It just looked interesting.”
“How could you tell from all the way down here?” asked Parvati.
“It told me.”
Ginny groaned. “I thought you said it wasn’t possessed.”
“It’s not,” Luna patiently told her girlfriend. “It didn’t talk like that. I was just browsing the books on the shelves, looking for a book to make our spells more powerful - for when we go out in the world to help Harry find Voldemort and the snake and do them in. Somehow the book knew I was looking for it, and it called out to me - not in words though. ... It showed me, in my head.”
“Erm...” Parvati peered skeptically at Luna, “That sort of does sound like it’s possessed, you know?”
“I know!” said Luna bluntly, smiling serenely. “But it’s just a magic book which responds to someone who’s looking for a book like it - it’s a bit like the Room of Requirement that way. ... And it’s got lots of enchantments and protection spells on it. That’s why I couldn’t summon it - but I knew it would let me pick it up, or it wouldn’t have responded to me.”
“If miss Luna is wanting the book, Dobby can be getting it for you,” said Dobby, his eyes bulging hopefully.
“Thank you, Dobby,” said Luna, “But I don’t think the magic of the book would let a House-Elf who didn’t originally belong to the Black family pick it up. Maybe Kreacher could get it for me if he doesn’t mind.”
Kreacher peered at the book for a moment and then he nodded.
“Miss Luna is correct,” he croaked. “The book’s magic is responding only to those who seek it and who are worthy to read it, and it is only responding to Kreacher. Kreacher will bring it to you.”
Ginny and Parvati both goggled in surprise when Kreacher floated up to the top of the bookcase and retrieved the book, then drifted back down. Only Luna didn’t seem nonplussed by the display of a magical ability which the House-Elf hadn’t previously demonstrated.
They both peered over Luna’s shoulders and coughed when she blew the layers of dust off the black leather binding. Embossed in glittering gold, the title became clear: The Alchemy of the Coven in Theory and Practice.
Parvati blushed and clapped a hand to her mouth, her eyes growing bigger.
“Hang on,” said Ginny, frowning, “Aren’t Covens where a load of witches get together and dance around naked in the woods and have orgies under a full moon and then do magic?”
“That’s what my daddy told me, so yes,” said Luna unconcernedly. “I think sometimes wizards are allowed too, as long as all the witches in the Coven agree that they’ve got the right sort of soul and aren’t just in it to have sex with loads of witches.”

~o0o~
Diagon Alley seemed dismal and grey, despite the relatively clear, bright skies of Spring. Wizards and witches darted about furtively, clearly hoping to avoid challenge by Ministry Officials or perhaps even Death Eaters.
Harry was disguised as a posh looking man in his early thirties with long, wavy, straw coloured hair, and a goatee, and was nervously strolling beside Dora, who currently looked like a well-to-do woman also in her early thirties, blonde, with blue eyes.
Hermione invisibly trotted right behind Harry in his wake, practically tethered to him, not so much physically, but in mental communication with him. It was only a temporary charm with a very limited range - perhaps five metres at best - offered up by Dumbledore to lessen the chance of losing Hermione.
It wasn’t legilimency - more like a two-way radio - but it required close proximity to be of any use. Apparently it was an obscure spell developed in the middle ages and long forgotten due its inefficiency.
As the three of them continued down Diagon Alley, they passed by Ollivander’s and Fortescue’s windows which were still boarded up, and several more shops were closed than there had been at the end of the previous summer. Harry felt his chest tightening and a surge of fury as he wondered if the shop owners had been muggleborn.
**I’m still with you, Harry,** Hermione said reassuringly in his head. **Whatever happened to them, we’re going to fix things.**
**I hope so, Hermione,** he thought back. Harry took several deep breaths and found his centre; his anger swirled around it, fading into the background.
Across the way, on the corner, he was alarmed to see that Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was still open.
“Bloody hell!” he muttered quietly. “Are they insane? I can’t believe that Umbridge hasn’t arrested them already after what they pulled last year at Hogwarts.”
“If it’ll make you feel better, James, we can have a look and see what’s going,” said Dora, using the name they had planned upon before leaving Number Twelve. “We should be alright thanks to these snazzy duds.”
**I think Dora’s right, Harry,** Harry heard Hermione say in his mind. **We should be okay.**
Harry nodded, grateful that Sirius hadn’t cleared out all of his parents’ posh looking clothes when they had been cleaning Number Twelve; wealth tended to be associated with Pureblood families in the Wizard World.
Fortunately, the shop wasn’t too busy at the moment and they were able to get inside without having to worry that someone might accidentally bump into Hermione. Harry spotted Verity the shop clerk up at the counter with an employee he had never seen before.
Harry and Dora approached the counter, catching Verity’s attention.
“Can I help you, sir, madam?” she asked politely. “Is there something I can help you find?’
“Er... Fred and George Weasley,” said Harry, feeling a bit awkward. “Are they in at the moment?”
“Sorry, no, sir,” said Verity. “They’re out of the country for a bit - visiting their brother in Romania I think. If it’s anything important, I could probably send them an owl, but I wouldn’t get a reply for a few weeks.”
“Oh,” said Harry, he and Hermione both sighing with relief in each other’s head.
“That’s alright. Er... my wife and I were just thinking about making some investments,” Harry made up on the spot.
“Oooh!” said Verity eagerly. “Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley are always interested in investments. Shall I send them an owl then?”
Harry could almost feel Hermione rolling her eyes and he suppressed a grin. He glanced at Dora with raised eyebrows as if questioning his “wife.”
“We might as well, dear,” said Dora, nodding at her fake husband. “I don’t really see why not.”
“Alright,” said Verity as she picked up a quill to jot their information down, “who shall I say is calling then?”
“Bond,” Dora replied, struggling to maintain a straight face, “James and Vesper Bond. Just let them know we’ve got a few thousand galleons if they’re interested. We’ll just check back in, in a few weeks then, if that’s alright.”
“Absolutely,” said Verity, scribbling the information on a bit of parchment.
A few minutes later, “James and Vesper Bond” and their invisible cohort somehow managed to get out of the Weasleys’ shop without falling into a fit of giggles. Feeling a bit more cheered they finally found themselves at the newsstand just outside Flourish and Blotts.
Harry’s cheeriness evaporated at the sight of the Wanted Posters posted on the front of the kiosk though. Dumbledore’s clear blue eyes twinkled back at him from under the heading, Undesirable Number One. Even more unnerving were his own features and Hermione’s brown eyes staring back at him from a single poster headed, Undesirables Number Two and Number Three.
Dora took the lead, seeing Harry falter.
“A Daily Prophet please.”
“Righto, Ma’am,” said the newsagent deferentially as he passed her a newspaper.
Dora forked out a knut for the paper and her eye caught the Ministry pamphlets sitting on the counter.
“Those’re free,” said the newsagent. “Take all you need.”
“Thank you!” Dora glanced at Harry who was still staring at the Wanted posters, a muscle twitching on his temple.
**Harry ... HARRY!** said Hermione worriedly in his head. **Let’s just go! Stop looking at my picture.**
“Come along dear,” said Dora, gently taking his arm. “The kids are waiting.”
“Oh, er, yeah... The kids!” Harry snapped out of it, spying an Auror in a long black trenchcoat nearby watching them with suspicion.
The three of them managed to escape Diagon Alley through the Leaky Cauldron without being accosted and all breathed deep sighs of relief upon reaching the Muggle World. They slipped into a nearby alley and disapparated.
Number Twelve seemed very quiet when they returned. It wasn’t as if Harry expected Luna and Ginny and Parvati to be running around the house with Crookshanks and Hedwig and getting up to mischief while he and Hermione and Dora had been gone, but there was a palpable air of the sort of silence which one might find in a...
“Library,” said the now perfectly visible Hermione, who was smiling brightly at Harry. “They’re in the library.”
“Er... you can still hear me - my thoughts I mean?”
“Not with the magic spell anymore, Harry.”
Harry turned pink, feeling a little jolt of happiness that they still had a sort of mental connection even without the spell. He was almost missing having Hermione in his head already after she had saved him from his anxiety at seeing her face on a Wanted poster, and it was only thanks to Hermione knowing him so well that she had snapped him out of his agitation and moodiness earlier at brunch.
A few minutes later Harry and Hermione were proved correct when they discovered the other three young witches poring over an enormous tome in the library. Ginny and Parvati looked startled and their faces flushed with mortification when they heard Harry, Hermione, and Dora enter the room, but Luna was as unflappable as ever.
“What’s that you lot’re reading then?” asked Dora, peering at the three of them cannily. “Some sorta ancient sex-manual with a load of naughty pictures?”
“Eep,” squeaked Ginny, and Parvati’s blush deepened.
“More or less,” said Luna cheerfully. “It’s a book about how to be a Coven.”
Hermione gasped and then let out a nervous little giggle, her own features reddening.
“Blimey!” Dora snorted with laughter. “You don’t do things in half-measures, do you?”
“Er... what’s so funny?” Harry shot a bewildered look at Hermione. “I didn’t even know Covens were a real thing. Isn’t that just something muggles think witches do - stand around a fire stirring giant cauldrons with giant spoons and cackling for no real reason?”
“That’s not what a real Coven does, Harry,” said Hermione. “And you probably haven’t heard of them in the Wizard World because it’s not something they would teach at Hogwarts. They’re quite rare and rather frowned upon by polite society...”
“That’s puttin’ it mildly,” said Dora. “It’s the sorta scandalous thing Skeeter would have a field day with. The Prophet would be goin’ on and on about crazed sex-fiends destroying the moral fabric of the Wizard World if they ever got wind of a Coven.”
Light began to dawn on Harry and he rubbed at his itching scar.
“So, er... Covens are a load of witches who have sex together, and then do magic?”
“That’s about the size of it,” Dora chortled.
“It’s all about raising the levels of the emotional energy which fuels most magic spells,” Hermione explained, “And the bonds of affection also make it easier for the Coven to focus on a single spell as a group.”
“Yeah,” said Harry, “I’m getting how that could work. It’s sort of how you and me... how our patronuses were so powerful. And why we, er... the, erm... our accidental sex magic outbursts. It all works more or less the same way, right?”
Hermione nodded and was about agree when Luna chimed in.
“Oh, of course! That makes perfect sense - maybe we could all do Patronuses like that if we had a go at this,” she said eagerly.
Harry’s jaw dropped in shock. “You’re joking! You can’t be bloody serious, Luna!”
“Why not?”
“Wh-what?” Harry sputtered. “I’ve got a girlfriend - you’ve got a girlfriend!”
Ginny was groaning now, hiding her own fiery red face behind both of her hands, and Dora had fallen into a fit of giggles. Hermione was trying to hide a smirk and Parvati was shaking her head and giggling with embarrassment.
“So?” said Luna. “We’d all be in on it together. It’s not like we would be cheating.”
“So... No way!” Harry moaned. “I’m really sorry, Luna. There’s just no way! Besides - it’s just for witches, right?”
“Well, some wizards can join in if all the witches accept them and they have the right sort of soul,” said Luna, looking very disappointed. “And judging by your eyes, Harry, I think you have the perfect sort of soul to be in a Coven. ... I sort of guessed you’d say no though, but I had to try.”
“Yeah, I suppose you did,” said Harry, sighing with relief, glad that Luna was dropping it.
Then Harry let out a wry little chuckle and shook his head, finally seeing the humour in it all. And at the moment a bit of humour was exactly what he needed given that his worst fears had been confirmed by the title of the new Ministry pamphlet: Mudbloods and the Dangers They Pose to a Peaceful Pure-Blood Society.
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Damaged Bridges