Chapter 3 – Hell Hath No Fury

Anger as soon as fed is dead-

'Tis starving makes it fat.

-Emily Dickinson

"How am I supposed to inform the people of every known magical community in the world that our only chance at winning this war is lying dead somewhere in that blasted forest, Albus?" Cornelius Fudge screeched, waving his bony hands erratically all around him.

Hermione's blood felt as though it was being plunged into ice at his words. Harry wasn't dead, she knew it. She could feel it. Yet that blasted slime of a man continued to pour drivel out of his mouth like a child who lost his favorite toy.

"I believe we're only seeing the beginning of how deep this deception ran, Albus." Minerva McGonagall added somberly. Hermione considered her rare show of emotions to be nearly groundbreaking, but the tears streaming down the old matron's face kept that sentiment squarely in check. The Transfiguration professor continued, "This school will most assuredly be nothing more than a shelter now."

It was nearly midnight now, and the Headmaster's office was practically overflowing with professors, ministry officials, and delegates from other countries. Though when Fudge barged in, he immediately demanded that Hermione leave since "adult matters" were being discussed. But it only took one look at Dumbledore's thinly veiled rage in his eyes to have the Minister whimper and not say any more on the subject. So Hermione sat there, silently feeling her heart break more and more, in the plush chair right in front of Dumbledore's desk.

Dumbledore merely sat behind his desk, sullen and tired. The chatter in the background was quieted, yet endless. The door suddenly flew open and Snape floated into the room, surprisingly not wearing his perpetual sneer, but more a downcast, frighteningly somber look.

"Albus, if I may," Snape spoke up and walked towards Dumbledore's desk. Dumbledore looked up slowly and looked towards the Potions master for a moment.

"Everyone," the wizened wizard said softly, "if I may ask you to leave for a few moments, we will continue this meeting later." Fudge opened his mouth to speak, but shut it quickly.

Once everyone had left the room, Snape looked down to Hermione for a moment and back to the Headmaster. "Sir, I do not think she should hear this right now."

Odd, Hermione thought, Snape didn't ask her to outright leave. She slowly leaned forward in her chair, her curiosity momentarily quelling the terrible pangs of sadness rumbling through her.

"It is alright, Severus." Dumbledore nodded to him. "She has some information that surely sheds light on what is happening."

To her shock, Snape looked down to her for a moment and gave her what only could be described as an apologetic expression. "Very well…"

Snape walked over to the chair beside her and sat down. For what seemed like minutes, he did not speak. He only leaned forward, his head hung, his eyes staring blankly at the floor as though some great weight would not leave his thoughts. In all her years to have had the misfortune of knowing him, she had never seen him look so…human.

"I know what happened now, sir." His voice sounded troubled. "Voldemort convened a celebratory occasion- and when he arrived- he also arrived with two other cloaked figures at his side."

Her stomach fell to her feet when Snape slowly tilted his head and looked directly into her eyes.

"Go on, Severus," Dumbledore said softly.

Snape sat up in his chair and turned towards Hermione. "Miss Granger, could you tell me about 'the coins'?" he flatly asked, yet he did not look mad at all.

Dumbledore looked over to her with a curious expression as she tried to comprehend why Snape was asking such a trivial thing.

"I found a way to essentially locate people- attune specific individual's magic to a device that would allow for them to be found in the event that they became lost or kidnapped." She went on to tell them about how the DA was all given coins so that they could stick together in the coming battles.

"My coin had apparently been damaged at some point in the fight with Bellatrix and Dawlish," a lone tear ran down her cheeks, recalling the very reason that Harry went into the forest in the first place.

Apparently sensing her turbulent emotions, Dumbledore spoke up. "Are these coins the reason they found Harry."

Snape nodded glumly.

"I don't understand, Professor," Hermione said in confusion. "They are only meant to be readable by the person they are made for. I used every anti-sabotage charm I knew on them. Did they find a way to tamper with a stolen one or something?"

Snape took a long, shuddered breath. "I'm sorry to say this Miss Granger, but they were not tampered with at all."

He looked squarely at the Headmaster. "They were used by their owners to lure Harry to his death."

Dumbledore immediately shot up from his chair, a rare look of shock etched across in old face.

"A student?" he whispered. "A student was responsible for this?"

"Two students, sir." Snape replied, and looked directly at Hermione with a look of utter sadness.

Two students…

Items and trinkets around the room shook for only a scant moment before they were literally disintegrating into nothingness. And as his words sank further and further into her ears, fury became her; no other force dared keep it from her thirsting heart.

She barely realized that she was no longer standing through the avalanche of thoughts and anger coursed through her mind. It was them; it was his dearest friends. And they betrayed him to his death. They took the very brightest thing in her life, they took him and they killed him. They took her Harry.

A scream of limitless, righteous fury shot from her lips. Piece by piece, everything that had occurred slipped in the place, fitting together seamlessly in one terrible picture. Ron's and Ginny's disappearance, the destruction of her coin. Those monsters knew she would run to Harry to find them. They knew he would in turn run headlong into the forest to save them. They knew that was the kind of person he was- ever the savior, ever the brave.

In her wakening rage, it took the frightful shouts of calming spells from both Snape and Dumbledore, and both of them holding onto her arms to stop her from leaving the room.

"I'm going to kill them!" she screamed to the top of her lungs, her voice cutting her throat to shreds. McGonagall timidly stuck her head in, probably due to the noise of the commotion, and immediately dashed to grab hold of her.

"What in Merlin's name is going on, Albus-," she heard McGonagall yelled desperately over her screams when an ear piercing blast shot from her entire body. The three professors were suddenly blown back into the walls and cupboards of the room when Hermione finally snapped and subsequently crumbled to a heap in the floor.

"It appears that she, and all of us, has been betrayed." Dumbledore said solemnly as he slowly got back to his feet and carefully walked back over to Hermione's trembling form, wrapping her up in his arms. Like the many ghosts that drifted through the halls, she felt as though she were floating the entire way back to her dormitory, her fury now numbed, yet swiftly replaced with wave after wave of painful sobs.

It felt like days until Hermione's anger had subsided. Dumbledore, McGonagall, even Snape, took turns watching over her in the privacy of the Headmaster's quarters; albeit, "watching over" did not adequately describe her current environment. It became more a test for the professors to see how well that they could keep her from ripping the wizarding world apart, looking for the two siblings who took her Harry.

Dumbledore took to teaching Hermione quite a few complex forms for transfiguration in efforts to keep her mind occupied. Though she eagerly tasked herself to devour all of the rare opportunity to learn from the Headmaster himself, it was like merely putting a strip of cloth on the crack of a dam. She could see it in his eyes every night before she went to bed; he knew that it was only a matter of time before he could no longer stop her.

While Dumbledore made absolutely no endeavor to forgive the actions of the two youngest Weasley's and their family, all of whom were now tucked safely away under the protection of Voldemort, he also urged Hermione to consider the repercussions of going after them on her own. Yet in his own right, she could tell that there was a seething fury in him, boiling and scraping under the surface of his eyes every time Harry was mentioned.

It had been a normal day so far for Hermione, just last the past three weeks. She awoke to a pillow stained with tears, and after having her ritualistic morning cry she forced herself to get ready for the day ahead. After nipping a few sweet rolls from the Great Hall, she ignored all of the calls of her name and scurried back to the Headmaster's office with notes on the lesson plan that Dumbledore had assigned her the prior night.

It was a few hours into one particularly tricky arithimancy equation dealing with gauging transfigurative properties that the door to the office opened and a very tired looked Dumbledore paced in.

"Ah, Miss Granger," he said pleasantly as he made his way behind his desk, "any further success with the problem?"

"Somewhat, Headmaster." She scribbled down a few more notes.

"Please, call me Albus," he gave her a smile and continued. "I fear that I may soon forget the sound of it."

"Of course," she said and cracked a rare smile. While she prided herself at her analytical skills in everything from books to people, the old man sitting before her, who was now wrestling with what looked like a liquorish rope, was a complete and total impossibility to even begin to figure out.

"By the way," he said after a few minutes, "there is a bit of news that I will be announcing to the rest of the students soon and I think I should let you know first."

Placing her quill down across her lap, she looked up at the elderly wizard and nodded.

"It seems as though that the Ministry decreed this morning that the war with Voldemort will most likely begin to openly spill out all across the wizarding and muggle world."

The Headmaster gently laid down his liquorish rope and opened up the center desk drawer. "So, what they have decided to do- for once I am in complete agreement with." He pulled out a round golden object and placed it at the edge of his desk in front of her. She peered down and gasped when she saw the bold letters 'HG' shining across its face.

"They have decided that the school will remain open for as long as the war goes on, considering how well the castle held against his attacks."

He nodded towards the badge and continued, "Essentially, this means that the summer break will now be considered a 'exploratory semester', wherein students will be given classes that are not a part of the normal curricula- hence, we're going to have to do quite a lot of brainstorming to think up some new ones-," he looked over to a small calendar whirring around on the wall, "-in two weeks."

"Headma- Albus," she said hesitantly, "why is this happening though?"

"The ministry feels that there is really no safer place for children." His eyes turned dull as he continued, "I am inclined to agree, actually. The parents know that it is only a matter of time before Voldemort seeks out and destroys them." Hermione dipped her head and closed her eyes, trying to quell the burning tears that threatened to escape her eyes at the thought of her parents.

"The parent of every child here has been informed, and save for a few rather extraordinary cases, they agree. So it is in the best interests of all that we not only continue to nourish the minds of each child, but strive these coming years to see that when this war is done, they are prepared for anything that they shall ever meet."

"A few years, sir?" she glanced over at the sleeping form of Fawkes. "Do you really think this war will last that long?"

"It would be folly to presume otherwise, my dear." He looked down sadly for a moment and continued. "I fear that we've only seen a mere fraction of the forces that Voldemort possesses."

The two sat in silence for a moment, absorbing the gravity of his words. Hermione looked back down to the parchment and tried to stave away the tremble in her hands. It was no use distracting herself, it didn't work. Try as she did to quell the thirst for vengeance on the two that betrayed Harry, every single shred of the castle, every fabric clinging around her body, even her reflection sent such an explosive wave of hatred coursing through her.

She knew deep down inside of her that she would not live to see the end of the war- she was Harry's closest companion after all- and if she was honest with her deepest feelings, she knew that she would have probably become more than that to him if those two bastards had not betrayed him. And that particular sentiment was probably well known by both Ron and Ginny,

They would come, that was to be a certainty. The next time Voldemort came for this castle, it would be a total massacre. She was at her wits end, and as she stood up and bid the Headmaster a good evening, she concluded that she would have her vengeance against the siblings and there was no force that the Dark Lord possessed that could stop her.