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Disclaimer: Unfortunately, All but the plot line belongs to J.K.
Chapter 2: The Meeting
Alone in Harry's room Hermione sat with an energetic fervor as she maniacally dug through his trunk. Throwing out unimportant pieces and completely bypassing the underwear, her heart leaped when she saw the familiar pristine cloak neatly folded and tucked away into the corner. Hoping that this would work, she snatched it up and unevenly stuffed the clothes she had thrown around the room back into the trunk. If all went as planned, she could come back up here, put the cloak back where she found it, and rearrange his clothes and no one would be the wiser—but as of right now, she was running out of time. The next Order of the Phoenix meeting started in less than ten minutes, and she had to figure out a way to get downstairs without being seen.
Peeking out of the doorway, Hermione was overwhelmingly thankful that Harry's room was just on the first floor up. Seeing no one, she crouched down so that the invisibility cloak would cover her trainers and stepped lightly as she crossed the floor to the staircase. Without glancing upwards, Hermione knew that the twins, Ron, Harry, and Ginny were at the top of the stairs, and from the hushed whispers, she had the hunch that they were informing Harry about the many uses and properties of the extendable ears. Good. If they were busy trying to listen in, no one would be wondering where she was and she could in all likelihood sneak back when she was done.
Wishing that she could perform magic outside of Hogwarts, Hermione silently cursed each time the old dilapidated staircase creaked. Finally she made it to the ground floor. She could see people milling about the kitchen, hoping to grab some of Mrs. Weasley's treacle tart before the meeting started. Hermione glanced at the imposing clock that hung in the main hall, she had just under five minutes to spare, and having been satisfied that they had sent all of the children upstairs, no one was guarding the meeting room. She couldn't have had a better chance if she had asked for one. Still moving quietly, so that her footfalls wouldn't be heard, she sidled through the doorway and moved so that she was standing with her back to the furthermost wall.
Just in time too. No sooner had her breathing returned to normal than members began to stride into the room and take their places at the table. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Sirius, Lupin, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Tonks, Bill Weasley, and a few older gentlemen ambled in with Mad-eye Moody bringing up the rear. Once he entered, the door swung shut behind him and he waved his wand up and down the door, muttering a wide variety of charms that Hermione had never heard, before taking his place at the far end of the table. So far none of them had suspected her presence and Hermione hoped to keep it that way.
The meeting began. Pleasantries aside, Mad-eye started the proceedings with a detailed report on the flight from the Dursley's to Grimmauld Place. Unsurprisingly the report was heavily fraught with the many ways that not only muggles, but Death Eaters as well could've spotted them.
As he finished, Hermione could not help but grudgingly admire Barty Crouch Jr.'s performance the school year previous. They may have been taught questionable dueling techniques from a death eater, but he really had nailed Moody's personality and suspicious attitude.
"I highly doubt that Death Eaters would be hanging around Little Whinging Alastor," dismissed Mrs. Weasley.
Before Moody could respond, Sirius interrupted. "As unlikely as that event may be Molly, we can't afford to throw aside any possible theory as to where Voldemort might have stationed his followers." A general shudder went around the table at the mention of You-know-who's name. Sirius continued. "Now we all know the purpose of this meeting is to discuss the precautions we need to take in regard to Harry and the rest of the children. Personally, I vote that we inform them as much as we can so that they're prepared for every eventuality."
At this suggestion, all of the members broke out into a low murmuring, lowly talking to those that sat the closest to them. All—that is – except for Mrs. Weasley, who instead was turning a bright red.
"They're just kids Sirius!" She shouted at him across the table.
"I know perfectly well how old they are Molly," Sirius said in a forced calm. "I was just under the impression that knowing and being prepared was a much better option than having the children go about their school year as if nothing has happened. Harry, at least, has a right to know."
"Harry is fifteen Sirius," Molly responded vehemently. "He is not James! You cannot just tell him every little bit of information that the Order receives because you think it's in his better interest!"
"I'm aware that my best friend is dead Molly, thank you!" Sirius barked. "And as for Harry, as his Godfather—"
"Oh! And what a fine job you've done as that, locked up in prison!" Molly retorted
Hermione held her breath as both Sirius and Molly jumped out of their seats, tension clearly in the air. At this point, every member was attempting to talk above one another and the room was thrown into a cacophony of jumbled voices. Mr. Weasley was endeavoring to pull Molly back into her seat, but she kept shoving him off as she glared at Sirius.
"ENOUGH!"
The room fell into a shocked silence. Remus Lupin stood up and stared everyone at the table down. Both Sirius and Molly slowly settled into their seats as he began to speak.
"Molly, Harry is Sirius' godson, and as such, he has the right to tell Harry whatever he so wishes." Just before Molly could get worked up again, Lupin continued. "And Sirius, I agree that Harry does have a right to know more about what Voldemort is planning, but to an extent."
Sirius slumped in his chair and abashed, looked up at his friend. "Always the peacemaker eh Remus?"
A ghost of a smirk lingered on Lupin's face before he continued addressing the group. "Either way, none of this matters if we don't decide how to act upon the most recent bit of news."
Hermione's ears perked. Could this be what she had been hoping to listen in on? Hopefully it would be actual news that she could share with the others.
"We all know that Voldemort is back, and we can assume that he is in the process of regrouping with his followers the Death Eaters. What we also know, is that he has begun to contact various creatures such as the Giants so that he can have their allegiance early on in the upcoming war."
He took a breath.
"Now, one of Dumbledore's sources in the Ministry has covertly made it known that the Ministry's hold on Azkaban is weakening considerably. Just yesterday, a large group of Dementors abandoned their posts, attacking several of the wizarding guards that were stationed there and departed the island, heading toward England."
Hermione had to clasp a hand over her mouth to cover her gasp as she contemplated the consequences of the Dementors roaming free around London. Luckily her sudden movement didn't attract any unwanted attention as all of the adults felt similarly.
"Now, Dumbledore and his staff will be setting up various charms and wards around the castle so that the students will be well protected when their schooling starts up in September. It is up to us to be on high alert when the children go to Diagon Alley as well as be available to apparate to Hogsmeade if anything goes awry during the year."
Mad-eye Moody cleared his throat. "Well it's agreed then. Constant vigilance will be required from all of us if we expect to keep Potter and his friends safe." He said gruffly as he scanned the table, daring anyone to disagree.
Sirius was about to speak when the lights flickered. An apprehensive hush fell over the room. The room grew unbearably chilly as the drinks some of the members had brought into the room cracked and splintered with ice. Hermione could feel her adrenaline spiking; she knew what this meant. The chill penetrated her from the inside out.
"A—already?" Mrs. Weasley whispered, horrified.
"They wouldn't dare…." Shacklebolt breathed, his words clouding in its frigid breath fog.
"On the contrary, Kingsley." Sirius' voice was strained and he was looking paler by the second. "Of all the beings who would dare, it would be Dementors."
Arthur grabbed Mrs. Weasley so that he was looking her straight in the face and said tersely, "Get the kids. Meet us back at the safe location."
Hermione was as good as petrified. She could not move and she could not speak, her wide eyes fixated on the ancient brick wall that separated them from the outside. The last thing she heard was Mr. Weasley yelling, "NOW MOLLY! GO!" before the wall exploded in a terrifyingly loud blast.
Brick flew about wildly and before Hermione could think to run or crouch down, a particularly large piece of rubble glanced off the side of her head, knocking her to the ground. Feeling warm rivulets of blood flowing down her cheeks, Hermione helplessly watched as the rogue band of Dementors relentlessly glided into the room. Her tears mingling with her blood, blessedly, she succumbed to the dark.
Soft light penetrated Hermione's eyelids. She had a splitting headache. Blearily, she began to open her eyes. Where was she? Too slowly for her liking, her eyes focused. Large clean windows, rows of infirmary quality beds, and a distinct lack of any medical equipment surrounded her. Was she in the hospital wing? Sitting up, she could see Madame Pomfrey attending to one of the other occupied beds.
Hearing the sheets rustle, Madam Pomfrey turned and started towards her.
"How are you feeling Miss Granger?" Pomfrey asked, genuinely concerned.
"Headache." Hermione ground out, wincing as the nurse tapped the abrasion on her forehead with her wand.
"There. That should do the trick."
Instantly Hermione felt her headache ebb away into nonexistence. Propping herself further up in the bed, Hermione got a better look around. The bed that she saw Madam Pomfrey at first was the only other one besides her own that was occupied.
"Better?"
Hermione nodded thankfully. Where was everybody? Why had nobody come? And who was in the other bed?"
The large infirmary doors creaked open and a flustered Professor McGonagall bustled in, her green robes trailing behind her. She walked over to Madam Pomfrey and spoke in a series of forced whispers and frantic gestures towards Hermione's bed. Finally, the nurse threw up her hands in relent, and McGonagall hurried over to Hermione's bedside. Up close, Hermione could see that the Transfiguration teacher's hair was haphazardly put together, and that her eyes were red from crying.
"Miss Granger, I must ask that you accompany me to the Headmaster's office immediately."
Worried, Hermione threw off the covers and followed McGonagall to the third floor corridor. They arrived at the gargoyle that would provide a spiral staircase up to Dumbledore's office.
"Professor…" Hermione hesitantly began, "who was the other person in the hospital wing?"
McGonagall ignored her, but her voice wavered slightly when she spoke the password.
"P—pumpkin pasties."
They both stepped onto the staircase. When they arrived at the door, it swung open before Hermione could knock. Not knowing what to expect, Hermione slowly walked into the spacious room. Mad-eye Moody was standing at the foot of the desk, and Dumbledore sat deep within his ornate chair, eyes closed with his fingers steepled. Fawkes saw them arrive and gave a small cry of welcome. Dumbledore's eyes opened and he gave a warm smile when he saw Hermione.
"Minerva. Miss Granger. Alastor was just about to let me know how we stand." He said wearily. Hermione had never seen him look so old before. It was if he had aged one hundred years since last spring.
"Headmaster, if I may…I would like to ask a few questions."
Dumbledore solemnly nodded his head. "Yes, I do believe you are entitled to a few answers Miss Granger. Let us start from the beginning. What do you remember?"
She retold how she snuck into the meeting, what she had heard, and how when the Dementors blasted into the room she had been hit with a glancing piece of brick, knocking her unconscious.
Dumbledore looked thoughtful. "You may be surprised to hear Miss Granger that you in fact snuck into that meeting a week ago."
Hermione gasped. A week ago?! How much had happened since then?
"You would also be surprised to hear that what you and many of the Order perceived as a mere Dementor attack, was in fact, a decoy. Dementors themselves cannot pass through such physical barriers as walls. Let alone the heavily spelled ones at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. No. That work was of some accomplished albeit sloppy wizards. While the Dementors flew in and distracted the members, three known Death Eaters waltzed in through the front door and up the stairs. Either Voldemort is more impatient that I had anticipated, or some of his followers are not satisfied with the pace his plans have been proceeding." Dumbledore took a deep breath and exhaled heavily, his eyes collecting moisture as he continued. "Either way," he said, subdued, "the three Death Eaters accomplished their mission and have consequently fled. We do not hope to find them, and have reason to believe that after Voldemort hears of their actions, there won't be anyone left to find. However, the bright lights that they extinguished are irreplaceable…"
His eyes glistened with tears, and in that moment he no longer looked like the greatest Headmaster that Hogwarts has ever seen; he looked like a tired, wizened, old man who had seen too many hardships in his life. His shoulders slumped forward, and he looked toward Professor McGonagall.
"How are they Minerva?"
"Inconsolable Albus."
Hermione's heart sank. The Death Eaters had gone upstairs….Frantically she looked at the Headmaster. "Where's Harry?"
The next hour passed in what seemed like minutes. She heard everything, but felt overwhelmingly numb. Dumbledore told how they had fought, bravely trying to save one another. How had Hermione not had the cloak, they would've gotten her too. Mrs. Weasley had saved as many as she could, and had apparated away. The others that had stayed to fight the Dementors followed after. The only reason Hermione wasn't left behind was because of Moody's enchanted eye. It had seen through the invisibility cloak and once the Dementors were finished, he had scooped her up and had trailed the others to the Shrieking Shack. Those that had made it, hobbled their way to the infirmary and into the sanctuary that Hogwarts provided. But those that hadn't….the short list seemed too long; eternally unending.
Fred, George, Tonks, Shacklebolt, Lupin, three older members of the Order that Hermione had seen but couldn't recall, and Harry. Harry Potter, the wizard who had defended and protected Ginny Weasley with his dying breath; Harry Potter her best friend; Harry Potter the Chosen One….was dead.
"No no no no no no NO!" Yelled Hermione, tears streaming down her cheeks. This wasn't supposed to happen! "They can't be dead! Harry CAN'T be dead!" she screamed, her heart breaking.
McGonagall, at Hermione's anguish, was now silently sobbing, but Dumbledore looked at Hermione with a grave expression on his face.
"I agree, Miss Granger. You see, we have no hope of winning this war without Harry Potter. Our forces and morale are utterly shattered, and with this new development, I fear that Voldemort will get what he's always desired: Power. For he does not distinguish between true power and the power of fear."
"There must be something that we can do." Hermione implored, tears still streaming unchecked down her face.
"There is." Mad-eye Moody interrupted, his voice less gruff than usual.
Dumbledore sighed and McGonagall looked between the two of them as though she could read their thoughts.
"Albus...You're not really suggesting that Miss Granger—"
"I'm afraid that's exactly what I'm suggesting, Minerva." Dumbledore continued in earnest.
Hermione felt completely lost. "What exactly, Headmaster, are you suggesting?" She asked, confused and worn out.
Moody cleared his throat. "Granger, just how willing are you to get Potter and the others back?" He inquired briskly.
Hermione swallowed past the lump in her throat and glared at the auror. How dare he suggest that she wouldn't do all that she could if it meant getting her friends back. "I would do anything." Hermione whispered brokenly. "But there's no way…no logical way to get them back."
"That's true Miss Granger," said Dumbledore. "We cannot bring them back in the present…but I'm hoping that we can bring them back through the past."
Hermione scrunched up her features in thought. "But…Headmaster, there isn't a device available that could perform what you're suggesting...and time-turners only work up to six hours in the past"
"Not all of them." Said Moody confidently as he held up a rather small plain looking item.
Hermione balked. The Prototype. Of course.
"A rather curious item—"Dumbledore began to explain. "It is one of the very first—"
"I know what it is." Hermione whispered somberly, remembering the in-depth discussion Fred and George had treated her to concerning Sirius Black's many trinkets. Sadly, she realized that she would never talk like that to the twins again.
"In that case, I ask you Miss Granger, how far back would you be willing to go to help us save the lives of your friends and countless others?"
Could she do it? Hermione stared at the old hourglass. It wouldn't be like the last time where she could just catch up with herself. If she went, the prototype would break and she'd be stuck years behind living a completely different life, making completely different friends...but hopefully she would be able to alter just enough to change this course of events. But what if she stayed? She could still help the resistance as much as possible, but would they ever have another chance like this again? Besides that, it wasn't much of a world without Harry Potter.
"What would happen if I said no?"
"If you said no, you would not be blamed for your decision in any way. Leaving one's world behind for another life should not be a decision any person has to make. You would finish your schooling and if you wished it, would be of great help in the upcoming war." Dumbledore replied, keeping his face neutrally calm.
"And…what if I said yes?"
"If you said yes you would be trained for a period of two weeks' time on the styles of life a couple years ago and you would be heavily studying advanced spells with Alastor. We would brief you on the three Death Eaters involved in the deaths at Grimmauld Place, so that when the time came, you would hopefully be able to spur them down a different path, and, in time, you would live to see your friends live the lives they were meant to. Either way, Miss Granger, the choice is yours."
Hermione took a deep breath. Could she really leave behind everything on the hope that she could be the crucial turning point in the war to come? Would she go back Merlin knows how many years to save Harry? Exasperated, her own thoughts reprimanded her. Of course she would.
"I'll do it." Hermione said determinedly. "When do I start?"
A/N: After uploading Chapter 1 last week, I realized that the Harry Potter FF page fills up with new/updated stories quickly, so if you are one of the lucky people that see and read this story before it's pushed back to page 20, I would appreciate a review! I am planning on updating regularly, so any note of encouragement or acknowledgement would be splendid :)
