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The Apprentice	By : Nerys Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 62961 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 8
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 25
- 26
- 27
A/N: Thank you, Serp, for being an amazing beta.

The Apprentice

Chapter Twenty-Six

Quietly, she sat at the kitchen table, sipping hot coffee from a mug all by her lonesome self. The Burrow was in complete disarray and everyone ran around like headless chickens. Hermione had hoped Professor Dumbledore would have arrived by now to stop this crazy hullabaloo, but he hadn’t.

Probably too busy changing someone’s nappies.

She rolled her eyes at recalling Malfoy’s sorry state.

However, Dumbledore’s continued absence had not inspired everyone else to take the situation lightly. Other Order members had arrived, in multitude. Alastor Moody was outside, cursing every suspicious looking rock into oblivion, while Kingsley checked Dumbledore’s and the Ministerial Wards. Tonks and Remus were busy slowly repairing all the broken glass upstairs. For some reason they had to take it one item at the time, otherwise everything fell into a million pieces again. However, the supposedly magically indestructible windows were beyond their capabilities to fix and they let them be. Arthur, Bill, and a couple of others she didn’t know were outside guarding the perimeter of the Burrow. Upstairs, Molly on the other hand hovered over those she felt needed the most attention.

‘I am fine,’ Hermione heard Harry’s voice object loudly. ‘There is nothing wrong with me.’

‘I’ve got to look at your wounds,’ Molly replied, concerned. Though Mrs. Weasley’s voice didn’t reach Harry’s volume, she could still hear it clearly all the way down in the kitchen. ‘Ginny, get me some towels to press against–’

‘It’s just a scratch on my hand,’ Harry interrupted, annoyed. ‘Ron is hurt far worse.’

‘I theenk Ronald ees going to be alright,’ Fleur’s voice chimed in like little bells. ‘I have nearly healed hees chest.’ And she continued chanting in a sing-song voice.

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed, trying to block out the voices. It was hard, considering what had just happened – what she had done. Normally she wouldn’t have listened to Mrs. Weasley telling her to vacate the room when her best friends were hurt. She would have remained as Ginny had done, but Ron’s blood-soaked pyjama shirt had made her feel light-headed and nauseous. She had rushed to the bathroom and emptied her stomach in the loo. Tonks had helped keep her hair out of the way, making her feel even guiltier, because in her opinion she didn’t deserve any assistance. She’d caused this. She was to blame. When she’d got back to Harry’s room, her complexion had been green enough to be mistaken for Kermit the frog. Mrs. Weasley had forcefully shoved her out, telling Tonks to take Hermione downstairs for some much needed Anti-Vomiting Potion. It had helped splendidly. Right now, she felt much better, good enough to question the craziness of the Order and be annoyed with their antics.

Really, if Lord Voldemort had truly arrived here, I doubt he’d play hide and seek.

She snorted into her coffee.

A green flash, a stumbling noise, and coughs came from the living room. She glanced in the direction of the open door to the hallway when a second green flash blinded her eyesight briefly. A crash sounded. A cloud of dust and ashes blew into the hallway. Tumbling noises and grunts indicated that two bodies plummeted to the floor.

‘Fred.’

‘George.’

Hermione sniggered at hearing the humorously delivered introductions coming from the other room, as if they were in need to get further acquainted.

Mere moments later, George added dryly, ‘Glad you could Floo in so quickly behind me.’

‘Glad to be here, but I do prefer Angelina to lie on top of me,’ Fred countered, amused.

‘That’s a very hurtful thing to say, Fred. I was just concerned for your safety; see how my body is conveniently blocking all those incoming Dark Arts curses?’

‘It’s also blocking my ability to ever procreate.’

‘Oh, sorry ’bout that, wasn’t planning to put my knee there.’

Hermione smirked and bore witness to some groans followed by a lot more snarky comments, while the twins obviously got to their feet and dusted off their clothes.

‘Nice little breeze in here, I always knew this room would benefit from an opened window during the summer.’

‘Eh, Hermione,’ it sounded cheerfully in tandem when they came walking around the corner.

‘Hi,’ she replied, watching them glance at her mug and her comfortable seating posture before eyeing each other.

‘That must be some emergency, Fred.’

‘Looks like it, George. Aren’t you happy now we woke in the middle of the night for this?’

They both turned their heads back to her abruptly. ‘Got any more coffee?’

‘In the pot,’ she pointed casually.

Fred sat down at the table, while George opened the top cabinet above the sink. A waterfall of glass pieces tumbled down on top of his head.

‘It’s coffee, George, not Firewhiskey. We won’t need any glasses,’ Fred observed dryly.

‘Good thing; Mum seems to be all out,’ George replied, pulling two ceramic mugs out of the cabinet, while ignoring the glass fragments lingering in his hair like a tiara and twinkling whenever the light of the candles on the table hit it.

Fred pointed his wand at the coffee container. It hovered into the air following the mugs around and filling them rapidly with steaming hot coffee, while George walked to the table and sat down beside him. Simultaneously both of them wrapped their hands around their respective mugs and began sipping, looking questioningly at Hermione.

‘What happened to your eye?’

She scowled at George. ‘Your punching telescope.’

He sniggered.

‘Oh, blimey,’ Fred responded, ruffling through his pockets. ‘I forgot about those. Here –’

He’d located what he was searching for and pulled it out of his pocket before holding out the tub to her. Hermione glanced at it suspiciously before taking it from him and unscrewing the lid. There was a thick yellow paste inside.

‘If you dab it on, the bruise will be gone in an hour,’ he explained. ‘We had to find a decent bruise-remover; we do test most of our products ourselves.’

‘Is this safe?’

Her eyes flickered between them in suspicion. She’d not forgotten about their Canary Creams, Fainting Fancies, Puking Pastilles, and other items that did things you would not expect them to do.

‘Course it is,’ Fred replied. ‘If you want proof, I can put some on myself if that’ll make you feel better?’

She looked at him quietly, weighing his words. He seemed sincere enough to her liking. ‘No, that won’t be necessary,’ she said, dabbing the thick paste on her eyelid. It felt soothingly cold to put it on and there was no more doubt in her mind the paste would really work. She could almost sense it.

‘What happened here?’ George asked, pointing to the broken window and turning his attention back on the issue he’d Floo-ed in for.

‘The windows suddenly broke. They don’t know who, how, what, or why, but they’re looking into it,’ she explained.

‘No Death Eaters?’

She shook her head.

‘Giant snakes, Inferi, Dementors, Malfoys?’ George almost sounded hopefully, while he wiggled his wand through the air deviously.

‘No, no, no, and …’ she looked up thoughtfully, like she really had to think about it, ‘no.’

‘Any creepy individuals with red eyes, then?’

Hermione snorted. ‘Nope.’

‘Sure you didn’t miss it?’

‘Maybe she slept through it all,’ George suggested humorously.

‘Or …’ Fred paused, narrowing his eyes distrustfully to Hermione, ‘she is not Hermione, but a Death Eater in disguise.’

The Death Eater in disguise rolled her eyes, while George looked overly panicky around the kitchen. ‘That must be it, Fred,’ and he waved his wand to Hermione theatrically. ‘Identify yourself, villain.’

‘Sure, I am a villain,’ she muttered, taking another sip of her coffee. ‘We all know Death Eaters want nothing more than to chitchat with you two, because you are soooo important.’

‘Oooow, hurtful comment.’ George clutched to his chest with both hands. ‘The real Hermione,’ he emphasised, waddling his finger at her, ‘would never say something this mean to us.’

‘Your wand, bro,’ Fred reprimanded when George forgot to keep it pointed at her.

He immediately corrected the error. ‘How will we figure out if this really is Hermione?’

‘Easy,’ Fred said offhandedly before leaning forward on the table. ‘What is on page 351 of “Hogwarts, a History”?’

‘Good one.’

Hermione quirked an eyebrow. ‘No idea,’ she lied, smirking as her eyes fell on their mugs deliberately. ‘However, in “Confronting the Faceless” it says on that same page that one should be suspicious of beverages offered to you by possible dark witches.’

Their eyes widened and both of them glanced at their half-empty mugs in mock fear.

‘Something,’ she reprimanded tauntingly, ‘you might have known had you finished your education properly.’

Fred let out a relieved sigh. ‘It’s Hermione.’

‘Yep,’ George agreed, lowering his wand. ‘Only Hermione would take the time to inform us about the disadvantages of an abandoned education on a night like this.’

‘What will we do without our N.E.W.T.’s?’

‘Face it, Fred. We’re lowly dropouts with no possible future ahead but misery and despair.’

Hermione groaned and got two teasing smiles back. They were obviously enjoying themselves far too much as they took another sip simultaneously of their coffee.

‘So no You-Know-Who,’ George said, sounding mighty disappointed.

‘There is still a chance she forgot,’ Fred suggested.

‘I think I would remember him being here,’ she assured them. ‘He is hard to miss.’

George nodded, agreeing with that.

‘Gee George, you woke me for this?’ Fred gestured around. ‘You do know we’ve an early start at the shop with the freight from Peru arriving.’

‘The message I got was that there was some emergency,’ George said apologetically.

They both looked around the peaceful area, bemused. Another small explosion outside, followed by Moody muttering under his breath about dangerous dark wizards posing as innocent objects, was all that disturbed the rest. None of the inhabitants of the kitchen responded to his casting.

Fred shrugged. ‘Maybe He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named took up interior decorating?’

George sniggered. ‘We should put that on a flyer at the shop. Want your house refur-?’

Sudden rapid footsteps down the stairs made him halt his speech, while Fred flicked out his wand, jumped to his feet, and acted out an overly defensive stance. Harry swirled in, halting in the doorway when he saw the twins.

‘It’s Potter!’ George cheered, raising both hands in victory.

‘Our saviour is still alive!’ Fred called out, relieved, and he grabbed a hold of the now protesting Harry and swirled him around in exaggerated joy.

‘Did You-Know-Who miss you again, Harry?’ George added; he had stood up and was now patting Harry on his back supportingly. ‘Was it a fearsome, heroic battle?’

‘Of course it was,’ Fred replied before Harry could speak up. ‘And look how he doesn’t have a single scratch on him,’ he added approvingly, stepping back and gesturing up and down Harry’s body.

‘Well, he is a true hero,’ George explained lightly.

‘The Chosen One,’ they both said in unison, bowing down reverently. ‘He arrived on this planet to serve and protect our innocent, fragile bodies.’

Harry and Hermione snorted together at “innocent”.

Fred and George grabbed their chests, appalled and shocked. ‘They do not consider us worthy, Fred.’

‘After everything we’ve done for them last year,’ Fred said recentfully.

‘A portable swamp.’

‘Fireworks, everywhere, all the time.’

‘The breaking of every Educational Decree in existence. Quite a feat, if I do say so myself.’

‘I totally agree, George.’

‘The mayhem and trouble we caused to assist those students …’ they gazed pointedly at Harry and Hermione, ‘needing necessary distractions before we flew of into the sunset …’

‘Then, we rushed here in the middle of the night to save them from … ermm…’ George’s hand waved around the empty kitchen, ‘impending doom and destruction by all those invisible wizarding foes attempting to kill them right now.’

‘Yes, and what do we get in return? They abandon us in our hour of need.’

‘It’s a sad, harsh world we live in, Fred, but I’ll be there for you,’ George said comforting, holding his arms wide.

‘Oh brother!’ Fred exclaimed, stretching out his arms, too.

They fell into each others arms, making loud sobbing noises, when Mrs. Weasley’s voice thundered down the stairs, freezing them up in their acting display.

‘You two, why are you standing around there? People could get hurt, needing assistance when you’re mocking about. Go help your father outside, NOW!’

‘Needing assistance … against whom?’ Fred whispered to George as they made their way out quickly to avoid another scolding from their mother.

‘Maybe Crumple-Horned Snorkacks?’ George grinned, as the door to the garden fell shut behind them.

Hermione smiled a bit sheepishly to Harry after they’d left. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Of course I am,’ he grunted, taking the chair next to her. ‘I didn’t get hit. I only cut myself when I removed some pieces of glass off Ron.’

‘And … Ron?’ she asked, dreading the answer, still feeling extremely guilty about it.

‘He’s going to be fine. Fleur’s almost done healing him.’

She let out a relieved sigh.

Harry looked around, checking if the kitchen was clear, before he lowered his voice and leaned in to Hermione.

‘He probably doesn’t want his family to know, but he got hurt before the glass flew around.’

She raised her eyebrows at hearing that.

‘He was on his way back to his bedroom when he tripped on one of the boxes and collapsed on the ugly, standing lamp,’ Harry continued. ‘It pierced his chest, and then, he crashed down on the glass side table Mrs. Weasley got from Fleur and put in the twins’ room for “safe keeping.”’

‘He fell on the lamp and then the table, how did he manage that?’ Hermione asked, bemused.

Harry shrugged. ‘Great aim, I suppose.’

She giggled. If Harry was so casual about it, she was certain Ron was going to be just fine. He wouldn’t have come down earlier anyway.

‘The box, the lamp and the table?’

‘Yes, all those, but don’t tell anyone. Fleur thought he was a true hero, he was absolutely delighted and this red,’ –Harry pointed to a tomato in the bowl on the table– ‘in his face when she was busy healing him and went on and on and on how brave he had been.’

Hermoine snorted. ‘My lips are sealed,’ she said, amused.

‘Although his secret might come out when the others finally realise we were never under attack in the first place.’

‘What makes you say that?’ Hermione asked, surprised and slightly alarmed.

Harry sent her a look. ‘Breaking a bunch of windows and then leaving? Yeah, sounds like their M.O.,’ he snorted. ‘This,’ –he pointed at the Order members casting outside– ‘is ridiculous.’

‘They’re just concerned, because they think the wards got compromised.’

‘This wasn’t Voldemort,’ Harry said certainly, his jaw set.

‘Oh,’ she replied, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

Though Harry didn’t notice that, he got a bit irritated, thinking she also disagreed with him. ‘You don’t believe me?’

‘No, I agree with you,’ she said quickly, seeing his annoyance. ‘If it was them, they would be all over this place.’

‘Exactly, it’s what I told Moody and the others, but nobody will listen to me. Besides, it didn’t feel like Voldemort. It felt …’ Harry paused, furrowing his brow, ‘like that other time.’

Confused, Hermione looked at him. She hadn’t broken any windows before and she’d only been at the Burrow for a day.

‘What other time?’

‘When everything turned dark … Of course, I did feel him then, at the end of it. He was very happy about having gained power, but–’

‘Gained power?’ she snapped, now really alarmed. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I don’t know precisely,’ Harry replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. ‘He blocked me out when he noticed I was there. I tried recalling what happened before that, but everything went so fast and it was such a chaos, I can’t.’ He looked at her a bit hopelessly. ‘Hermione, when he duelled Professor Dumbledore at the Ministry … You didn’t see him cast. If … if he gained even more power, I–I won’t stand a–’

She didn’t let Harry finish his sentence but rushed out of her chair and pulled him in her arms, hugging him to her.

‘You’re not in this alone, Harry.’ She drew back looking him straight into his familiar green eyes, her hands on his shoulders. ‘I’ll help you.’ She took a deep breath, having reached the ridiculously risky decision of investigating this matter further. ‘So you say he was happy about gaining power and you can’t recall exactly why or how?’

‘Yes, I’ve tried to remember, but it’s a blur; so much happened that day. Ron and I tried to put the pieces together. It was useless.’

‘Where were you when it happened?’

‘Right here, in the kitchen …’ he hesitated. ‘Well, we were outside first, but I didn’t feel Voldemort then. My scar didn’t start hurting, until after I got inside.’

‘Okay, inside it is,’ Hermione said, looking around thoughtfully, ‘let’s go through what you did and see if that helps trigger the memory better. Where were you standing exactly?’

Harry moved to his previous position. ‘I stood here and everything was dark.’

Hermione flicked her wand at the candles on the table. The kitchen blackened completely, occasionally lit by the flashes of the castings going on outside and the light that came from the hallway. Another flick of her wand and the door flew shut with a bang. Next, curtains flew in front of the windows, darkening the area completely.

‘How is that?’ she enquired.

‘Ermm … similar. Except Remus was holding some blue bell flames in his hand,’ Harry recalled.

Her wand swooshed, causing a blue bell flame to appear in her hand.

‘Too bright,’ Harry said, furrowing his brow as he thought hard.

She dimmed it slightly and watched him somewhat apprehensively. Had he seen her? She couldn’t believe she hadn’t at least once considered that Harry had this little window to Voldemort’s mind after everything that had happened last school year. Well, sure, Hecouldn’t risk exposing her. Still, that she hadn’t thought about it disturbed her greatly. She should have, she really should have. Careless, she’d been careless not to think about it, and now, she might have to Obliviate her best friend because of it. But she sure as hell wasn’t doing that, she’d have to talk to Professor Dumbledore about it – he could fix it if it needed fixing. She wasn’t messing with Harry’s mind. Was this what being a Keeper meant? That you had to lie and curse your friends and loved ones? It wasn’t something that appealed to her much.

‘Hermione?’

‘Oh sorry,’ she apologised to Harry who looked at her curiously. ‘I was thinking.’

‘Yeah,’ he muttered grimly. ‘Me too, and it’s not coming back to me.’

But she needed to know. She needed to know what this was about him gaining power. Was that connected to her? Harry had to give her more than this.

‘You always clutch to your forehead in pain when it happens,’ she recalled, helpfully. ‘Try redoing all your moves.’

Harry pressed his hands back to his forehead and bent over slightly.

‘People were screaming my name, frightened, while I was thinking I should be more careful what I wished for.’ He paused. ‘It was dark in my head. I didn’t see Remus’s flames anymore.’ He closed his eyes, following her advice in trying to create similar circumstances.

‘Harry!’ Hermione shouted fearfully in hopes of triggering something by repeating what others had done.

‘Someone is in my arms,’ he called out, excited from behind his hunched over form. ‘A woman, definitely female, and … I feel her power returning to me. So much power, more than I ever possessed before,’ Harry muttered. ‘It made me exhilarated, overjoyed. It was all mine for the taking. All that power at my disposal. It struck me. For a moment I held it all, then I released it back to her, and light blinded my eyes. I closed them and became aware of the existing link. It must have opened during my recollection of the magic. No peeking, Potter,’ Harry recalled, rising up and watching Hermione triumphantly.

‘Then, I hit a blind wall and was back here,’ he ended happily, realising how much he missed having her around. Her ideas and actions were what made all this information resurface from the depths of his mind. He hadn’t been able to touch even a fraction of it together with Ron. ‘You’re brilliant, Hermione, just brilliant.’

She felt sick, not brilliant at all. Absentmindedly, she flicked her wand at the curtains and lit the candles again. It had been about her. How was that possible? What had she missed? The door flung open, showing a proud, fully-healed Ron first. Behind him, the rest of the group from upstairs became visible in the hallway. Everyone had put on their normal clothes instead of their pyjamas and nightgowns. Hermione felt grossly underdressed in her pyjamas and robe, especially when she noticed Fleur wore a flattering, light-blue dress made out of some flowing, light material.

‘I am fi–’ Ron stopped in his triumphant explanation and in his forward motion, staring at the two of them. ‘What’s wrong?’

Ginny rolled her eyes behind him. ‘Yeah, what could possibly be wrong?’ she commented sarcastically, pushing him out of the way to enter the kitchen.

‘Hermione helped me remember more about that time I was in his mind again,’ Harry explained, excited.

‘Really?’ Ginny asked, interested, while Ron’s eyes widened in curiosity. ‘That’s great. You haven’t been able to recollect more previously, right?’

‘Ginny, help me clean the kitchen of all this glass,’ Molly ordered, gesturing at her daughter to come over to where she stood instead of sitting down at the table as Ginny planned to do.

‘Mu-um,’ Ginny whined.

‘I can do eet,’ Fleur practically sang and danced past Molly who suddenly looked disgruntled.

‘No, no,’ Mrs. Weasley mumbled, waving her hands through the air in objection, ‘you are a guest here. We can do this ourselves. You already helped enough with Ron. Why don’t you check with Moody if you can help outside?’

Fleur halted in her wand’s swing and commented back, ‘I am sure Bill as eet covered. He’s such a fine weezard.’

While the two of them were busy debating whether or not Mrs. Weasley needed her future daughter-in-law’s assistance, Ron nodded to the outer door, signalling they should leave before they got drawn into the debate. The four of them tiptoed out quickly and sat down at one of the garden’s tables. Ron took the seat on the bench next to Hermione, while Harry sat down across the table from them. The early morning sun began peeking over the horizon and it cast a warm glow around the garden. Hermione conjured some new mugs for them all, while Ginny poured coffee. The redhead had quickly snatched the container with her on their way out. When Ginny was done with the last mug that belonged to Harry, she sat down next to him on the bench and looked at him concerned.

‘Now, what did you remember about You-Know-Who?’

Harry explained it all quickly to the two Weasleys, while Hermione was pondering to herself about what this could possibly mean for her.

‘Ugh,’ Ron said, shivering exaggeratedly, ‘can you imagine You-Know-Who with a woman?’ He wrinkled his nose in disgust.

‘Well, he was holding her quite intimately against him,’ Harry replied thoughtfully, shrugging.

‘Do you reckon it was Bellatrix Lestrange?’ Ginny asked curiously.

A frown appeared on Harry’s face.

‘In her dreams,’ Ron snorted.

Ginny giggled. ‘They deserve each other.’ And she circled her indexfinger near her temple, indicating her opinion on the two.

‘I think Harry would have recognised Bellatrix,’ Hermione said, gritting her teeth annoyed.

Her irritation made her totally ignore that if Harry hadn’t identified her, it was unlikely he would have recognised someone he knew even less.

Really, Bellatrix Lestrange? Are they delusional? Like he can’t do any better. If they keep underestimating him like that, they are bound to lose dreadfully.

‘I didn’t mean that Harry was unobservant,’ Ginny said apologetically.

Her brown eyes flickered somewhat nervously between Harry, who was deep in thought, and Hermione, thinking this was the reason the bushy-haired Gryffindor was irritated and worrying Harry would assume the same thing.

‘Nah, I don’t think it was her,’ Harry’s thoughtful voice interrupted them. ‘But it was definitely a woman. Her body felt quite soft. Besides, I can’t see him holding one of his male Death Eaters like that,’ Harry concluded, watching them all, certain they’d agree with that.

Hermione snorted, entertained. That visual was bound to stay on her retinas forever.

‘Mate, can you see him holding anyone like that?’ Ron questioned humorously. ‘Or anyone wanting him to?’

His comments made her annoyance flare right back in full force. ‘Those stupid remarks are not helping, Ron,’ Hermione snapped. ‘Voldemort gaining more power is not a joking matter.’

Ron made a defensive gesture to her with his hands and backed away slightly on the wooden bench, without noticing he did so, before he turned his attention to Harry. ‘Why do you think he didn’t keep the power?’ he asked. ‘Sounds a bit out of character to me.’

It was a valid question that made Hermione pause.

‘Perhaps he has an ulterior motive not to?’ she came up with, feeling the need to ram her stupid head against the nearest brick wall.

Ginny nodded in concurrence to her suggestion, putting the now empty mug in her hand back down on the table.

‘Or maybe he couldn’t just yet,’ Harry added. ‘Maybe he is waiting for the right moment.’

Hermione stared at him. Oh crap. That had to be it. But what moment? How on earth was she going to find that out when she couldn’t share diddlysquat with anyone?

‘When do you think that will be?’ Ron asked, frowning.

‘Oh, I don’t know, maybe when he tries to kill me again,’ Harry suggested darkly, hoisting his shoulders up.

‘That’s not funny, Harry,’ Hermione squeaked, turning white as a sheet considering that option.

He smiled at her apologetically.

Bang!

The dustbin next to the door exploded. Ron dove for the ground, covering his head with his arms, while Harry yanked Ginny with him underneath the table. But Hermione stayed seated. She’d swirled her wand around and had a shield erected around them before the debris hit it violently.

‘Whoa, Hermione!’ Ron shouted, peeking with his blue eyes above the bench’s rim she sat on, impressed.

The door flew open, showing a determined Mrs. Weasley with her wand drawn.

‘Alastor!’ she reprimanded, lowering her wand when she realised who was responsible for that blast. ‘Think of the children.’

‘You can never be too careful, Molly,’ Moody muttered under his breath, passing them all while he shifted through the debris with his wand. ‘Dustbins are known hideouts for evildoers. Nice reflexes, Granger. You’d make an excellent Auror.’

‘Thanks, Professor,’ she replied, blushing delighted, while lowering her wand.

‘Professor, Professor,’ Moody repeated, shaking his head in disagreement of the use of that title, before his magical eye swirled around and examined the residue of her silvery shield. He whistled softly and turned to focus his full attention on her appreciatively.

‘The Auror Department can certainly use people who draw and cast as fast as you. Not many are able to conjure such a forceful Environmental Shield,’ he complimented, while totally ignoring that despite knowing this bit of vital information, he’d just blown up the dustbin close to them.

Her cheeks burned with pleasure. ‘Thanks, Pro – er – Mr. Moody,’ she corrected quickly.

‘Alastor, are you done investigating everything around my house already?’ Molly asked with her hands in her side.

‘We have to be certain. Kingsley has–’

Crack!

Mrs. Weasley let out a high eep and clutched to her chest in shock when robes of deep purple swirled through the air upon Albus Dumbledore’s arrival at the Burrow. His sharp, blue eyes immediately fell on Hermione whose face turned an even deeper shade of red. She started counting numbers in her mind immediately upon witnessing that penetrating gaze. Of course Albus Dumbledore would know she’d been responsible for it. Well, as long as he didn’t know she’d been dancing with Tom Riddle in her dream. That … would be really embarrassing.

‘Albus,’ Molly sighed, relieved. ‘I am so glad you’re here.’

‘I am sorry I couldn’t come sooner, Molly, but my presence was essential in Russia. We had somewhat of an emergency there,’ Albus spoke calmly.

Why, don’t tell me the hoblet is giving you problems, Hermione thought mockingly.

‘Grindelwald?’ Molly asked tentatively.

He nodded silently before raising his head to the Burrow and checking out the damage with a flick of his wand. A sigh left his lips when he was done, and he scratched his beard as if he was embarrassed about something.

‘Oh dear, it seems I overdid it.’

Hermione frowned and she wasn’t the only one baffled by Dumbledore’s statement. Confusion was ever present on all the faces around her.

‘Overdid what?’ Moody asked.

‘The wards,’ Albus explained loosely. ‘It seems I made them a bit too strong.’

Too strong? What is he talking about? The windows blew not the wards.

‘They’ve put too much pressure on the enchanted windows,’ Dumbledore said.

Oh. Good one.

‘They blew up because of you?’ Kingsley’s deep booming voice asked behind them.

Dumbledore turned around and gave him a nod.

‘I thought something was off,’ Kingsley continued. ‘I couldn’t find anything that showed a breach during my investigation of the wards.’

‘Of course you couldn’t,’ Dumbledore said knowingly. ‘The wards are responsible for the destruction.’

Hermione had a hard time keeping her face in check. Her jaw had this distinct need to drop to the floor at seeing the smoothness and ease in which Dumbledore delivered his lies to the others. He really was a fast thinker. She looked sideways at Harry and noticed his confused expression. Recalling that he had identified this disaster as feeling similar to the time she had blackened out the country, she quickly avoided meeting his eyes and kept listening to Dumbledore’s inventions. Last thing she needed right now was someone questioning Professor Dumbledore’s story.

‘Because the enchanted windows are linked to the power of the wards,’ Kingsley added, nodding.

Moody shook his head and glanced at Dumbledore disbelievingly. ‘Please Albus, don’t tell me you actually charmed the windows to be indestructible in that manner while you’re one of the few who can actually perform Morgana’s chant instead?’

Albus shrugged and held out his hands apologetically. ‘Morgana’s chant has a few questionable side-effects too, Alastor. It’s not per se the better one just because less people can cast it. Besides, Tom knows all of Le Fay’s theories and spells by heart. There is no point in picking hers when your adversary is fully versed in their inner workings.’

‘I suppose,’ Moody grunted.

‘However, seeing the other method of protecting the windows led to this, I suppose I have no alternative but to use Morgana’s now. I’ll reimburse you for the damage I can’t fix, Molly,’ Dumbledore said, turning his attention to the Weasley matriarch.

Damage he can’t fix? Reimburse her? Hell no. This was my fault. I will just pay him back.

The Hogwarts Headmaster whipped his wand above his head, causing Hermione’s attention to focus on his casting instead of the implications of his words. The little grains of glass that had scattered around everywhere hurtled together in the air above them. A sideway flip, and a roaring fire flew through them, brightening up the early morning sky. A yellowish red, molten liquid mass remained. Albus Dumbledore concentrated. This time, he didn’t move his wand, he moved himself.

Mesmerised, Hermione watched him perform magic as she had only seen it being performed once before when a certain someone moved some dungeons around. Again she swayed in the force of it, but there was a quality to Albus Dumbledore’s magic that she couldn’t identify, a quality so forceful it frightened her. Now that he was performing a high-level spell around her she felt it for the very first time. Something that felt like it was …

She paused, shaking her head at the silly idea that had come to mind. The things she thought these days ... Really, it was ridiculous. Nothing and no one was unbeatable – not even Albus Dumbledore’s magic.

Brushing some strands of hair out of her face that were determined to meet her Headmaster’s power and blocked her vision of him rebuilding the enchanted windows with Morgana’s chant, she tried to comprehend what this distinct quality in Dumbledore’s magic really was. Knowing all the elements of casting, her mind quickly eliminated one option after the other. In the end, she realised she came up empty. She’d run out of elements to allocate to his magic when that mysterious one still remained. Albus Dumbledore had an additional element in his magic! An element not mentioned anywhere in any of the books she’d read on Controlled Casting. An element Lord Voldemort did not possess.

She smirked gleefully. Someone’s huge ego would not appreciate that. Subconsciously, her smirk turned into a gleeful giggle. Hermione was pretty sure if she picked up on Professor Dumbledore’s magical force, he would too. No wonder Dumbledore was supposed to be the only one Voldemort feared. Merlin, such power … it was unbelievable and she could sense he was holding back, a lot.

Why was he holding back? What could be the point of it?

Voldemort had told her to always use your full powers if you strived at optimum result when casting, and hadn’t Professor Dumbledore just told Mrs. Weasley that he might not be able to fix everything? So, why wasn’t he striving at optimum result by using his full powers? It made absolutely no sense to Hermione.

Her fingers outstretched, she moved her wandhand through the air, which was not as easy as it sounded, for it was thick with Dumbledore’s magic. So much power … Why hadn’t he just taken out Lord Voldemort at the Ministry that day?

She knew now he could have, easily. All of this madness could have been over, like he stopped Grindelwald all those years ago. Harry should have been safe now. She glanced sorrowfully to her best friend. He didn’t notice her looking at him; he was too busy admiring how Dumbledore split the molten mass into multiple pulsating blobs and steered them towards their destination in the Burrow’s walls. She noticed while looking around that Dumbledore’s casting had attracted the rest of the Order, too. Despite it being extraordinary advanced magic, Hermione had lost any and all will to look at it. She clasped her hands and lowered her gaze to them, disappointment in her Headmaster ever so present in her heart.

The accomplishments of the Great Albus Dumbledore, her mind sneered. Fixing windows, check. Allowing Toadfaces to torture little kiddies, check. Forced Harry to participate in a life-threatening tournament, while knowing Harry hadn’t put his name in the Goblet himself, check. Never explaining to Harry why Voldemort would want to lure him to the ministry and thus assuring Voldemort would succeed, check. Allowing greasy gits to vent their obsessive frustration on the son of the woman he wanted, check. Leading said greasy git to his death by making him return to Voldemort, check. Giving an eleven-year-old boy the “chance” to stand up to the same dark wizard, check. But incarcerating said wizard himself … of course, she couldn’t check off that one.

Rubbing her temples as a small remedy against the threatening upcoming headache, something stirred inside of her. Something wanted to curse Dumbledore into oblivion for his inactions. Something wanted to punish him for everything he had NOT done for them. Subconsciously her wand made it to her hand. She was about to raise it and hex Albus Dumbledore in his back when she realised it and froze in her movements.

Oh no, what’s wrong with me?

Nothing, a voice echoed in her mind from a far. He deserves it.

Her heart stopped when she recognised the voice. Wasn’t it enough he had to appear in her dreams? She really didn’t need any “path guidance” from him, while she was awake. If he wanted to hex Albus Dumbledore, he should bloody well do it himself. Her fury was about to explode at him in full force when two hands were placed on her shoulders. The sudden action encapsulated her dark power for a moment, keeping it put like the deep breath you take before blowing out all the candles.

‘Hermione?’ Dumbledore said tentatively.

Looking up in blue eyes who watched her thoughtfully, she panicked. She could feel it stirring. Not again. Everyone was here. She couldn’t hold it in, she couldn’t. She didn’t know how to. Not anymore. Son of a bitch. She should wring that irritating, sniggering snake of his around his neck and pull real hard.

‘Is she alright?’ Tonks asked, worried.

‘She looks a bit green again,’ Remus observed.

Apparently, they had arrived in the garden as well. Terrific, the more the merrier.

‘Hermione?’

Harry!

Quickly, she looked sideways in the direction of that familiar face with its comforting kind green eyes. Harry had no agenda. He was just her friend. The emotion lessened her anger and she felt her darkness receding. His hand was stretched out to her and she grabbed it, needing his support, hoping it would help incarcerate the rest of it, too, before she’d hurt someone for real. The second their hands touched, it was like a shock ran through them. Her fingers clasped around Harry’s and his around hers. Hermione gasped when she noticed the dash of red that travelled through Harry’s eyes upon that moment. It was barely noticeable and if she hadn’t been so close to Harry, she might have missed it or thought it was a trick of the light. However, she saw, and worse, recognised it. She’d seen that same dash in Tom Riddle’s eyes in her dreams. It was enough to subdue all her powers. She froze and stared at her best friend horrified. Dumbledore had stepped back, eyeing the situation cautiously.

‘What?’ Harry asked, confused.

His head swivelled between her and Professor Dumbledore for answers to what was the matter.

Ron’s hand on her shoulder made Hermione look behind her and Harry’s hand slipped through her fingers as she let go slowly.

‘Are you still nauseous, because of what happened?’ Ron asked carefully, watching her extremely pale face.

She wanted to shake her head when Dumbledore spoke up. ‘I am sorry about this, Hermione, Harry. Magic like this …’ –he gestured to the windows of the Burrow– ‘can have unfortunate side-effects.’

‘We got a shock when we touched,’ Harry said questioningly.

Dumbledore nodded. ‘Apparently, Hermione absorbed some of the power meant for the enchanted windows. Since it’s not supposed to be ingested by humans, it makes them sick. Touching helps, I believe the shock indicates you took some of the pressure of her.’

Hermione lowered her head, trying hard not to give anything away, because she knew she hadn’t absorbed any of the powers. The shock came from inside of her. What the hell was going on? Why had Harry’s eyes turned red? Was this the stupid pendant’s fault? Professor Dumbledore had said it was not a threat. Had he been wrong? She’d heard Voldemort’s voice and she was pretty sure she’d felt the pendant’s temperature change during. Was this what Dumbledore meant about him slipping a bit of her path in there? But what else could she expect this thing to do?

She was so deeply invested in her worried pondering that she missed half of the conversation taking place, until Ron squeezed her shoulder when he spoke up concerned. ‘Were the protections on the windows the reason why she got sick before?’

‘Most likely,’ Dumbledore concurred.

‘Is it safe for her to stay at our house then, Albus?’ Arthur inquired.

‘Yes, it only happens when the magic is released.’

‘When the windows blew and when you created them,’ Kingsley said knowingly.

‘Exactly.’

Crack!

Everyone froze and turned to the new arrival. Her white curly hair was in complete disarray and her robes were slightly torn as if she’d been running through rosebushes. A large scratch on her face was still leaking some blood and her face seemed extremely tired with large bags underneath her eyes. She let herself fall on the bench next to Hermione and sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

‘Ljudmila, what happened to you?’ Dumbledore asked, concerned.

‘Nothing,’ the lady mumbled, disgruntled.

Hermione raised her eyebrows at that. It certainly didn’t look “nothing” to her.

Ljudmila Volkova lifted her arms above her head and stretched out her body before cracking her neck by tilting her head sideways in both directions.

‘Nothing?’ Dumbledore repeated questioningly.

‘Just a tiny disagreement,’ she responded lightly.

Sure, tiny.

‘With whom?’

That question was on everyone’s mind.

Volkova looked at Dumbledore in knowing amusement. ‘You have to ask?’

‘He didn’t,’ Dumbledore said, his eyes darkening.

He, what he?

‘Oh, but he did. Apparently, he was not amused about your suggestion to assist us in getting the boy’s mother out of there. Got him good too. Though, I am so sorry he Apparated away before I was able to incinerate that overpriced, designer outfit of his. Well, maybe next time …’ Ljudmila said, rubbing her hands in clear anticipation of her vengeance. Smirking deviously, she looked sideways to Hermione, who immediately started counting numbers again. ‘But I believe you lot had enough excitement over here to worry about my problems, have you not?’ she nudged Hermione in her side teasingly. ‘Allegedly unbreakable glass flying around everywhere – such power.’

Hermione blinked. She didn’t dare to look around in case she would see suspicion in the eyes of one of the Order members present. Was that woman crazy? Oh, scratch that, all those Keepers had a screw loose. It was like they were dying to be made. The arrogance they portrayed towards the rest of the world was just unbelievable. She wondered how many times they’d had to Obliviate someone merely because they’d been careless with their actions and words. The Keepers she had met so far gave an entirely new meaning to geniality being close to insanity.

Dumbledore smiled. ‘No need to rub it in, Ljudmila. You were right. I was wrong. I should have used Morgana’s chant on the windows instead of Ulley’s.’

‘Ah, of course I was right,’ Ljudmila agreed without blinking. ‘And I would love to be right a lot longer, but unfortunately I have very little time today.’ She got to her feet and swirled her wand around, mending her torn robes. ‘I have an appointment two hours from now in St. Petersburg, Albus; we need to start immediately if we plan to make any progress. That is if you’re done fixing your blunders?’ she added with a twinkle in her eyes.

‘All of them?’ he replied humorously. ‘I am afraid you’re never going to be on time if that’s to be the case.’

They grinned at each other.

He turned to the others. ‘If you’ll all excuse us, we’ll be in the living room. Hermione?’

Her head snapped up. ‘Sorry?’

‘We need to continue your Occlumency lesson.’

‘Albus,’ Mrs. Weasley objected, ‘she is not well.’

‘I am fine, I am fine’ Hermione said, jumping to her feet immediately, causing Harry and Ron to look at each other grinning. They knew there was nothing like the idea of knowledge and lessons to make Hermione feel alright in a heartbeat.

Mrs. Weasley was still shaking her head when Hermione moved indoors with Professors Dumbledore and Volkova.

‘Too bad he didn’t bring the library,’ Fred joked at their retreating backs. ‘She wouldn’t have got sick in the first place if there’d been books around.’

Everyone laughed, except for Alastor Moody. His magical eye was focused on the door the three had just disappeared through and he was in deep thought.

---

The silence in the Malfoy parlour was deafening. Surrounded by a contingency of Death Eaters, a blonde woman knelt on the floor a couple of meters in front of his chair. Lord Voldemort crossed his leg over the other and tapped with his long spidery fingers on the armrest contemplatively, going over his options.

In the mean time, Bellatrix prowled around the blonde with her wand drawn, wishing he would give her to go ahead to use her favourite curse. It was obvious to him she would have done so already had he not been here when Yaxley brought the woman in. Bella always had felt easily threatened by any females he added to his ranks. It was useful at times, but mostly it was a nuisance. Not many women had the nerve to declare their loyalty to him because of Lestrange. This one, however, wasn’t in the least bit intimidated. He’d seen the veiled mocking glance she had sent Lestrange’s way, though he was certain he’d been the only one.

‘Tell me, Mrs. Grindelwald,’ he said coldly, while his wand appeared in his hand in a blink of an eye, ‘why shouldn’t I kill you on the spot or …’ –he looked around his followers for a moment, stroking his wand affectionately– ‘let them have their way with you?’

Bella practically jumped up and down in excitement at his words. Her eyes glowed with excitement at the chance to torture someone. He almost sighed, but his face remained impassive. He recalled how he had considered making the pureblood Slytherin his wife a long time ago to gain him additional power and esteem. Well, the Blacks were an ancient influential family and quite enamoured by his beliefs of pureblood supremacy. It had taken him ages to ease Bella into his preferred sexual endeavours, so she could satisfy his needs, but she had become far too clingy in the end and he had shoved her off to marry Rodolphus, deciding Lord Voldemort had all the esteem he required anyway. They had both complied as loyal servants, and he was certain their sexual needs were compatible, but he also knew Bella kept pining for him.

On occasion, he had rewarded her when he felt like it, but truth be told Bella bored him. Her unquestionable devotion, though admirable, was something he could only stand in small doses at the time and that was before she turned completely insane. All those years in Azkaban had severely damaged the woman’s mental facilities – she used to be quite clever and sharp, but there was nothing of that left now. All that remained of her personality was a childlike individual with basic violent needs and the overwhelming magical skill to meet those needs.

Actually, she was quite a liability to him now with her desire for instant gratification, as were her husband and brother, who also had not come out of Azkaban unscathed. But they had been the only ones, who had tried to find him after his fall. The only ones, who’d remained loyal on the stand, who’d proclaimed their allegiance to him with pride and had not forsaken him in all these years of his absence. Somehow, he felt indebted to the three of them, but mostly to Bella, because he knew she had been the driving force behind all that loyalty. So, he put up with most of her madness, as long as she didn’t compromise his interests too much.

Mrs. Grindelwald had raised her head to him, and he focused back on his sudden and rather surprising visitor.

‘With the fall of Nurmengard, all of my husband’s,’ she spat, her face contorted in disgust, ‘most powerful supporters have regained their freedom. Right now they are just wandering around, but a true leader such as yourself could easily inspire them to join your cause; I know how to contact them and they listen to my judgement. Your forces could multiply tenfold in an instant and you’d be able to take over this country immediately.’

Voldemort laughed. For a second, he glanced to Yaxley with amusement, who smirked back knowingly. It made the Carrows squirm and move even farther away, for they had not been able to hand him similar good news about Hogwarts and he’d already “explained” his displeasure about that to them thoroughly.

Morons.

Slowly, the Dark Lord leaned forward in his chair, a condescending expression plastered on his snakelike face.

‘Why should I settle for losers when I can get the job done without them, Aloysia? I am afraid you’ve been misinformed if you are under the mistaken impression that I need assistance to take out the ministry of this country.’

He relished in the brief flash of concern on the woman’s face and continued with vicious satisfaction.

‘Actually, it’s quite convenient for me not to have them here. I am sure the second I am linked to dear Gellert’s old acquaintances the focus of the other ministries might shift back to me, which could be a … nuisance. I enjoy the freedom to do what needs doing, while they fret over what Gellert will do next when he is obviously hiding underneath a rock somewhere, concerning himself with the latest wizarding fashion.’

He deliberately made the innuendo about Gellert’s sexuality to see how the woman would respond. She bristled furiously, and he saw in her mind she was about to say something disparaging about Gellert.

Did she take him for a fool?

Abruptly, he rose to his feet.

‘Crucio!’ he cast evenly, circling the writhing and thrashing blonde with savage delight, while his Death Eaters hastily scattered away to make room for him. ‘Did you and Gellert decide this was a perfect set up for him to worm his way back into a position of power? Get your men inside of key positions in my organisation to take it over when the appropriate moment would arise?’ he sneered through her agonising screams. ‘Should I send your mutilated body to Nathaira’s cave to make sure he gets the message or do I need to go over there and “explain” things to him myself?’

He lowered his wand and stared condescendingly at the panting figure at his feet.

‘Answer me, Aloysia,’ he hissed, swiping his wand around so Mrs. Grindelwald’s blood sprayed all over the expensive carpeting, not caring about the flinch it sent through Narcissa’s body. He squatted down beside the bleeding woman’s face and whispered softly in her ear, ‘I’m very aware of the arrangement you two made, so he could hide his true preferences back in the forties. This pathetic acting might work on others, but you do not fool Lord Voldemort.’

‘I am not pissed at Gellert for being gay,’ Aloysia bit back, surprising him. ‘I am pissed, because he gave up. He betrayed his cause and all of us who fought for him. We should have won that day. We outnumbered them greatly, but he just handed his wand to Albus Dumbledore of all wizards available. He lost on purpose to Albus Dumbledore,’ she spat. ‘Not to some mediocre, untalented wizard who couldn’t distinguish between a jinx and a hex. No, to someone who knew exactly how to wield it.’

How to wield what?

She glanced from him to his Death Eaters before avoiding her eyes, making him narrow his – certain he was not getting the full story now. He knew Aloysia Grindelwald would have had adequate experience with Legilimency, seeing she’d been around Gellert for a very long time.

‘We didn’t stand a chance anymore, because with his loss,’ –she met his eyes– ‘morale dropped to an all time low and Gellert knew that.’

Get rid of them, I have information you do not want to be public knowledge.

The message flowed through her mind while she was speaking. He had to applaud her capabilities at that. Most were unable to think one thing and speak another. He wondered how many times she and Gellert had used this way to communicate secretly. It could be a rather useful method for him to explore, too. Granger would probably be able to duplicate it.

‘It had to be why he chose to duel Albus,’ she continued. ‘And some fools still think he just wanted to beat his old friend.’ A humourless laugh left her lips. ‘If he had wanted to beat Albus, he would have.’

He had the perfect weapon to achieve it, she added mentally, signalling with her eyes to his followers again.

A weapon against Albus Dumbledore? Perhaps he should humour the woman and give her what she wanted until he had all the information?

‘I should have known,’ Aloysia Grindelwald snarled. ‘I should have seen it, ever since he became extremely quiet after Efraim Kahn died. He enjoyed the Muggle war before that. He always said, “The more Muggles kill each other, the less I need to get rid of.” And he always scolded Kahn for protecting them, for always being in his way, for even saving those who would gladly gas him if he ever lost his wand.’

‘Gellert killed Kahn personally, and you’re expecting me to buy into your ridiculous story that it made him feel remorseful?’ Voldemort asked quietly, his lip curling up.

The witch’s expression faltered.

‘That he changed his ways?’ he added mockingly. ‘That he lost on purpose? That he became a good, little, merry, gay boy?’

Soft chuckles of his followers met his derisive statements and he smirked.

‘It’s what happened,’ Aloysia spoke through gritted teeth. ‘If you don’t believe me, then your Legilimency skills are highly overrated.’

It turned silent immediately. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the inevitable response, while he gazed directly at the foolish witch in front of him.

I can hand you the means to take out Dumbledore, but I am not saying a word in front of them.

Her mind suddenly turned into a blank wall of nothingness. Not a single thought was visible. His hand snatched out and grabbed her chin, forcing her to keep meeting his eyes, which she did in clear amusement.

‘Do you think you can keep this up endlessly, Aloysia Gertrude Grindelwald?’ he hissed, making her winch when he put additional pressure on her jaw. ‘Unlike your husband I can get very creative when it comes down to torturing women.’ He leaned forward until his face was but a hair width away from the blonde’s. ‘Fortunately, I have all the time in the world right now to make you entertain me,’ he whispered venomously.

All colour left her face as his head swivelled to his Death Eaters. ‘Leave us.’

Most of them were out of there in a heartbeat, some wearing a disappointed expression for not being able to watch or participate. However, Bella stood rooted to the spot, her eyes shooting daggers at the witch on the floor in front of him.

Lord Voldemort sighed. ‘Do I need to repeat myself, Bella?’ he asked sweetly.

Shock travelled visibly through the woman’s body and she shook her head before vacating the room, too. Her hatred for Mrs. Grindelwald hung tangibly in the air even after the door closed behind her.

‘She is a liability you can’t afford to maintain,’ Aloysia advised matter-of-factly.

‘Crucio!’

Deliciously satisfying screams filled the air. Closing his eyes, he let them wash over him. There was nothing more pacifying, more tranquil to him. Screams – delightful terrorised screams – were the absolute proof of his superiority and power over all those around him. The way his victims would writhe, thrash, crawl and plead: he adored it, revelled in it, and bathed in it till they turned silent, forever, leaving nothing behind on this planet but the stinking excretions of their useless rotting corpses when Lord Voldemort took mercy upon them and finished the job.

Power over life and death that … he had in spades – the greatest wizard of all. Soon, that power would expand beyond anyone’s belief, beyond his Horcruxes. He’d be a god, a supreme being: unbeatable, all thanks to Hermione Jean Granger. His eyes flashed open, flickering in a sly happiness as he took under consideration that he only met the Mudblood due to Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore? … Oh yeah, he got distracted. The silly witch on the ground had something to tell him before he was going to take “care” of her.

He lowered his wand and hissed, ‘Start talking.’

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The Apprentice