2002.2
"Oh, come on, Hermione. You can't tell us even one hint?" Ron complained.
Hermione shook her head, her curls flying dangerously close to the steaming potatoes heaped onto her chipped ceramic plate. "You know I can't, Ron," she said. "It's against Ministry regulations."
The redhead scowled with exaggerated displeasure. "You seemed perfectly happy to break those regulations when you asked me to see those classified files the other day."
Hermione flushed, opening her mouth to retort, before sighing.
Ginny laughed. "He's got you there, Hermione," she said.
Hermione rolled her eyes, looking down to hide the smile pulling at her lips. She shoved another forkful of potatoes - Harry's (only) specialty - into her mouth, watching distractedly as Ron gave Ginny an all-too-exuberant high-five.
Hermione surveyed the dining table contentedly. She'd been worried that, in light of her recent break up with Ron, relations would be awkward, but fortunately things seemed to be relatively normal. Given their busy schedules, it was rare that they could all gather like this, but she was thankful they'd managed to find this time to meet in Harry and Ginny's flat.
Her gaze slid from the now-bickering siblings to the haphazardly arranged pictures taped to every available surface of the flat. Faces old and young smiled at her, some belonging to people only recently deceased. She lingered on an image of a pair of mischievously grinning, gangly twins.
Her throat tightened, and she looked hurriedly back down to her plate. No, it was best not to think of the war.
Feeling a light jab to her arm, Hermione turned, arching her brows when she saw Harry looking intently at her. "What?"
Harry hesitated. "Kingsley told me he'd briefed an Unspeakable about the case," he said lowly. "I'm guessing that Unspeakable was you."
Hermione bit her lip. "Any word on Babbling?" she said.
Harry shook his head. "No, but you remember how she used to take off for days on end back at Hogwarts. Maybe she's just off on another trip," he said doubtfully.
"Babbling's missing?" Ginny said, looking at them.
Hermione cursed inwardly. She shouldn't have asked Harry about Babbling - if her fellow Unspeakables heard that she'd been even discussing anything related to her duties…
"Hermione. She was my professor, too," Ginny said quietly, and Hermione bit her lip, feeling vestiges of guilt wrap sinuously around her throat.
"She's been missing for a few days," Hermione said. "Kingsley said it's too early to sound all the alarms, but…"
"-there's been some mishaps regarding runes," Harry continued.
Ginny paled, her knuckles white around her fork. "Is-is it-"
"No. Merlin, no. We all saw him die," Hermione said forcefully.
Ron opened his mouth, and Hermione silenced him with a pointed look.
"He's dead," she repeated. He had to be - they couldn't keep looking over their shoulders for the man - no, monster - who had hunted them so persistently throughout their childhood. He was dead, and dead men didn't - couldn't - kidnap professors.
She pretended not to notice the look exchanged between her friends.
Soon all that could be heard was the solemn clink of metal against china.
"I'm sure she's alright," Ginny said softly, looking at Hermione.
Hermione smiled wanly. "Yes, I'm sure," she agreed. Beneath the table, her hand smoothed and re-smoothed the silk fabric of her trousers, stopping occasionally to pick at the lace tablecloth.
Sensing the tension, Ron loudly proclaimed his desire for pudding, bringing the conversation back to more light-hearted matters.
Just as Hermione was about to dip her spoon into the treat, however, both Harry and Ron's pockets glowed red. Harry plucked a black device from his robes, his eyes narrowing at the enchanted communications device.
"What is it?" Ginny asked.
Ron stood, waving his wand in the direction of the foyer to summon his robes. "There've been calls of a disturbance in Brighton," he said, pulling on the swathes of thick, black fabric.
Ginny frowned. "A disturbance? Isn't that under the MLE's domain?"
"This one's different," Harry said grimly as he rummaged through the drawers of the dish cabinet. He cursed, slamming shut another drawer, and whirled to face his girlfriend. "Ginny, do you-"
Ginny flicked her wand at the first drawer, sending a small, red velvet pouch flying into Harry's waiting hands. "Thanks," he said sheepishly.
She crossed her arms. "How's it different?" she demanded.
"The witch who called it in reported giant, red runes hanging into the air," Harry said.
Hermione's nails dug into her leg, and she leaped to her feet, her heart racing. Merlin, if she could just get to the site and catch a glimpse of the mystery person, perhaps she could get a better idea of his or her motives and what the runes meant.
Harry glanced at her. "Kingsley wants you to come, too," he said.
Hermione nodded, her mind racing. She ought to have been more prepared - she'd left her book on runes back in her flat. She'd managed to go through the first thirty-two chapters already, but what if she was unable to recognize the runes?
Merlin, she hoped she was ready for this.
"Hermione?"
She turned, swallowing thickly when she saw that Harry and Ron were looking at her expectantly.
"Ready," she said.
Ginny rushed forward, wrapping her in a tight hug.
"You'd better be back later tonight," she said fiercely.
Hermione nodded, forcing a confident grin. "You'd better not eat all the pudding while we're gone," she returned.
Ginny laughed, swiping at her eyes. "No promises," she said.
Harry smiled, his eyes a bit sad, before gingerly upending the pouch's contents over the table. A small, lacquered cat skidded across the wood, coming to a rest before Hermione's plate.
"This Portkey will take us to a location very close to the site of disturbance," Harry said. "We'll need to be ready for anything."
Hermione nodded, slipping her wand from her pocket. She gripped the wood tightly, tracing the familiar grooves of the wand.
"On the count of three," Harry said.
"One."
Her hands were tingling, her heart beating disconcertingly fast. When was the last time she'd been out in the field?
"Two," Ron said from her right.
The two Aurors looked at her expectantly.
She allowed herself a split second to memorize their faces before, extending her arm, she said solemnly, "Three."
xxxxxxxxxxxxx
The night breathed, hot and foul. The air reeked of sulphur and brimstone, the stench settling deeply into the folds of Hermione's cloak. The suburban street was eerily quiet, the houses dark. Not a single dog barked. The Muggle cars lining the roads looked grotesque in the darkness, resembling hulking growths sprouting from an oiled ground.
Harry beckoned them forward, pointing at a silent, two-story house. "This is the one," he whispered. "Ron and I will go first and scout the area. You cover our backs."
Hermione nodded stiffly, glancing up at the inky dark sky. No runes, red or otherwise, broke up the seemingly endless darkness. She frowned, her unease growing. Something wasn't right.
Ron followed her gaze and shook his head. "Yeah, I don't bloody like this," he muttered.
Then, with a wry smile, he added, "Just like old times, eh?"
Hermione blinked and, hiding a smile, whacked her best friend's arm. Ron laughed before speeding away to join Harry. She followed them, her blood pulsing at her temples, as she gripped her wand with sweaty fingers.
Harry paused before stepping on the porch, waving his wand tentatively at the brick walls. A wave of blue magic flew from his wand, sinking uneventfully into the brick. He waited another moment before, nodding at Ron, leaping nimbly onto the porch.
Hugging the side of the house, Ron crept towards a low-set window to the right of the porch. Peering into the window, he waved Harry forward. With another swish of his wand, Harry unlocked the door and, glancing back at Hermione, pushed the door open with his boot.
Hermione's breath caught as she raised her wand, half-expecting a beast - of what form, she didn't know - to come barreling from within the house.
When nothing happened, she scolded herself for her paranoia - had she or had she not survived months on the run from the most feared wizard on the planet? Was she or was she not Hermione Granger? - before stepping gingerly onto the wooden porch.
She glanced back at the street - still quiet, still bloody eerie - and watched nervously as Harry entered the house, wand held aloft.
The door swung silently shut behind him.
"You okay?"
She jumped, swallowing a startled cry, as she saw Ron standing startlingly close to her. She scowled. "Well, I was okay, Ronald," she hissed.
Ron grinned. With a saucy wink, he slipped past her and through the door, the house swallowing him as seamlessly as it had Harry.
Sighing inwardly and resolving to put some Puking Pastilles in his coffee the next time she saw him, Hermione entered the house, shutting the door quietly behind her.
The smell was even more overpowering inside. The interior of the house, while still dark, seemed to be bathed with an odd, green light. She faced a long, narrow corridor with an equally narrow staircase at the very end. Hearing soft scuffling noises coming from the upper flow, she eyed the stairs warily and, keeping a firm grip on her wand, slowly made her way through the hallway.
Empty picture frames lined the hallway, the gilded frames containing only blank expanses of canvas. She dearly hoped this was just a Muggle art statement and not a sign of something sinister. She couldn't bring herself to consider what would make all the pictures' occupants flee.
Just as her trainer hit the first step, however, she heard a faint, rasping noise to her right. She whirled, breathing heavily, as she stared at the empty corridor behind her. She could feel sweat trickle, icy-cold, down her neck.
Merlin, please. She repeated the words with no real prayer in mind, only thinking Merlin, please Merlin please Merlin please as she slowly, slowly, lifted her foot from the stairs.
The rasping noise came again.
Was she or was she not a Gryffindor?
Casting one last glance up the stairs, Hermione turned to the side wall and, holding her breath, traced her wand along the grooves of the flowered wallpaper.
There was a slight click as her wand brushed against the second lily and, with a sickening rush of sulphur-tainted air, the wall slid open, revealing a dark wooden staircase leading downwards.
Well, she certainly wasn't going to enter that surefire deathtrap without at least telling someone where she'd gone. That would be entirely foolish.
"Expecto patronum," she murmured quietly, the words just fitting through her gritted teeth. A silver-spun otter slipped fluidly from her wand, turning to twist elegantly around her head. She smiled softly at the sight before nodding towards the stairs. Her Patronus flew up the stairs, where it would hopefully find Harry and Ron.
Well, there was no more stalling. Setting her chin defiantly, Hermione Granger descended the stairs.
The rasping noise was growing louder, and she thought she could make out some wheezing. She silently cast a shield charm, conjuring a translucent blue expanse to protect her front, before descending the last of the stairs. The stairs let out into a small stone room, damp and startlingly cool. She strained to make out the room's contents through the blue of her shield, her eyes widening when she saw a dark form sprawled on the ground.
Her wand was up in an instant, a Stupefy ready on her lips, when the form grunted in pain.
She faltered, her hand jerking back -
She knew that voice.
"Professor Babbling?" she whispered hoarsely.
The form shifted, letting out another strangled groan.
Hermione stepped forward gingerly, squinting as the blue light of her shield illuminated first a mass of dark, matted hair and, finally, the familiar, pudgy nose of her former professor.
"Professor Babbling!" Hermione breathed, rushing forward. Her shield dissolved as she knelt by her professor, her eyes widening when she saw that the woman was naked.
The woman moaned, her eyes fluttering open.
Hermione yanked her hood back, roughly pushing her curly hair away from her face. "It's Hermione Granger," she said.
"M - Ms. Granger," the professor groaned. She sounded as if she were speaking through a mouthful of gravel.
Babbling smiled wanly. "You've joined the Department of Mysteries," she rasped.
Hermione nodded and, slipping her hand into her pocket, withdrew a coin emblazoned with St. Mungo's logo. She tapped the metal with her wand, activating the device, and said, "I've called for some Healers, but -"
"Do you know of the Razaran?" Babbling interrupted.
The what? Hermione shook her head, saying, "No, but I need to lift you. I know a few healing spells, and I need to see your wounds."
Babbling shook her head, wrenching herself away from Hermione's touch, and said desperately, "Listen. There are millions of universes out there, all running parallel to our own. Only the foulest of magic can rupture the barriers between the-"
Her voice cut off suddenly as Hermione, who had only been half-listening to her former professor's hoarse whispers, gingerly rolled the professor onto her side. Upon seeing the lurid marks on the woman's back, Hermione's lips thinned.
Angry, red runes glistened on Babbling's back, burning an almost complete circle into the wrinkled skin.
What monster had done this? Hermione frowned, comparing the runes to her mental image of the previous victim's runes. Odd - these runes matched them almost exactly. They were just as sloppy as the first runes. If the perpetrator was able to recreate his or her handiwork so exactly, why wasn't he or she able to draw the runes properly?
In fact, the only difference Hermione could discern was the absence of the lower right rune - while the previous victim's runes completed a circle, Professor Babbling's was one rune away from being completed -
Hermione stilled, dread pooling deep in her stomach. The perpetrator was still here.
Professor Babbling's eyes looked wildly at something behind Hermione, her whitened lips opening to emit a garbled noise. Hermione's fingers tightened around her wand, but she forced herself to remain still. Right. So, facts: there was probably a bloodthirsty, crazed murderer behind her. Hermione was alone, as Ron and Harry were still exploring upstairs.
Breathe. One. Two.
Three.
Hermione whirled, flinging a ragged red curse behind her -
Her spell froze in mid-air, the magic acrid and bright, before sinking harmlessly down into the dirt floor. A hooded figure stepped from the shadows. Hermione flung another Stupefy, resummoning her shield the second the curse was cast.
Again, the spell sank uselessly into the floor. She gaped, fear gripping her throat. She'd never seen such powerful magic. She could feel it, twisting menacingly in the air. Merlin, where were Harry and Ron? She could only hope they were safe and far, far away.
The figure, tall and menacing, walked purposefully across the room, only slightly favoring their left side.
She stepped back involuntarily, her foot brushing against her professor's clammy body -
She caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye, barely managing to fling herself into the corner before something - another perpetrator? - burst from the stairwell, flinging a fluid arc of silver-grey at the hooded figure.
The hooded figure howled, careening forcefully into the opposite wall before crumpling to the ground.
Shielding her eyes with her arm, Hermione could barely make out the second figure standing serenely in the center of the room. The figure reached up slowly, pulling down her hood to reveal a familiar, sharply angled face.
"Unspeakable Crowe," Hermione breathed. Merlin, she never thought she'd be so happy to see her.
"Unspeakable Granger," Crowe said, inclining her head. She showed no sign of having just barreled a powerful witch or wizard into the ground. "Kingsley sent me to ensure your safety."
She looked behind Hermione, her eyes settling on Professor Babbling's prone form.
"Is this the professor?" she asked.
Hermione nodded, still breathing heavily from the recent events, and dispelled her shield.
"Yes, it looks like the perpetrator was interrupted before he or she could finish," she said, glancing at the crumpled figure at the other end of the room.
"We ought to call for Healers. She's in shock," Hermione continued as the Unspeakable approached the unconscious witch.
Crowe knelt, her fingers tracing the runes delicately. She had an odd expression on her face, her dark eyes gleaming in the eerie green light of the room.
"Mm," she said, the sound clicking in her throat.
Hermione flinched and promptly scolded herself for her paranoia. Merlin, she was still letting this woman get to her. Unspeakable Crowe had just saved her life. Hermione's eyes darted to the figure still lying prone on the ground.
"Who is that?" she wondered aloud.
Crowe looked at the unconscious figure, her face twisting in a sudden, savage display of hatred.
"No one good," she spat.
Hermione watched as Crowe reached into the depths of her robes, withdrawing a slim blade that seemed to gleam even in the absence of light. She blinked, sure it was a trick, and the blade was dull grey once more.
"What is that?" she asked, feeling unease pool once more.
Crowe ran her hand reverentially across the blade, and, to Hermione's great confusion, her fingers passed easily through the blade. It was like the weapon had no substance at all, like it wasn't a knife at all but something startlingly different.
"What-"
Crowe's head snapped towards her as the Unspeakable bared her teeth in a savage smile.
Not looking away from Hermione, Crowe lifted the blade with one slim hand, her black, black hair twisted into writhing cords, and plunged it deep within Professor Babbling's back.
"What are you doing?" Hermione shrieked. She surged forward, her wand moving frantically to work a spell, a jinx, anything to stop the horror unfolding before her eyes -
Crowe kicked out fluidly, her leg catching Hermione straight in the soft part of her stomach. Hermione slammed against the wall, her spine slamming against a protruding wooden plank. Her wand clattered to the ground near Crowe's feet. Hermione doubled over, tears springing to her eyes, as she watched Crowe carve the final rune in her professor's back.
"NO!"
Babbling's body surged upward, hovering in midair, as blinding red light blazed out of her back, spreading from the runes to trace jagged lines all over her naked flesh.
Crowe laughed, her eyes wide and reverential, as the professor began spinning, her body awash with scarlet.
Clutching at her stomach with one hand, Hermione flung herself forward once more, trying desperately to fight, to claw, to do anything but die helpless -
Crowe looked at her, her raven black hair floating behind her and her eyes glowing red above the strong planes of her cheekbones. She tipped her head back, opening her mouth wider than Hermione thought humanly possible, and the red light pooling around Professor Babbling rushed into the Unspeakable's body.
It was over in seconds, mere fragments of time -
Babbling fell with a thud, darkly translucent against the dirt floor.
Crowe glowed, her mouth shining scarlet.
Hermione ran, lowering her famed head, the head that was said would take her far, to use as a weapon, a battering ram, anything to stop her -
"Darling, stop," Crowe said.
Hermione froze, crashing to the ground at the abrupt movement. She began to weep, kneeling before this woman with the voice of honey, of silk, of rapture -
Crowe stroked Hermione's tangled hair benevolently, and Hermione watched, wide-eyed, at the miracle before her.
"Please," she begged, not knowing exactly what she was asking for.
Crowe smiled. "Ah, manners. How lovely," she crooned, shooting another glare at something behind Hermione.
Silent tears pooled down Hermione's cheeks. She'd do anything for this woman if she'd only keep blessing her with her voice.
Crowe lifted her blade, tapping it thoughtfully against Hermione's cheek. "I wasn't planning on sending another, but you are positively delightful...what a pity that I have to kill you," Crowe mused, her words spilling smoothly from her lips.
Hermione sobbed silently, Crowe's threat not registering through her mental fog. She reached upward, her fingers trembling, as she tried to convince the woman to take her with her, to never leave her, to let Hermione serve her if she'd only keep speaking. Her hand tugged inadvertently at the neckline of Crowe's robes, revealing the barest hint of an angry red mark hugging the curve of her pale collarbone.
Crowe opened her mouth again and Hermione leaned forward, eager to hear more.
Something clattered behind them. Crowe's eyes narrowed, and the Unspeakable whirled, her arm arcing forward -
And then Crowe, too, was hurled to the wall, the blade clattering to the ground by Hermione's wand.
Hermione roared as she saw the same figure from before attacking the woman with the rapturous voice. She bent, her fingers scrabbling for the knife. Perhaps she could help Crowe. Perhaps, if she could just get the knife, she could prevent this damned stranger from halting Crowe's speech.
Her heart quickened when she saw the Unspeakable lying, wheezing, on the ground. The figure turned swiftly, not looking at Crowe, and crossed the room in two long strides.
The stranger stood before her wordlessly, his face still shrouded in the shadow of his hood, before bending down. He knocked her hand aside easily and, trembling slightly, picked up the knife. He - for, at this close distance, she could tell the stranger was definitely male - stared at the knife, his bloodied knuckles white around the hilt.
Although she could not see his face, she could feel the intensity of his gaze. His hands shook at his sides, and he looked so intent, so desperate that she almost - almost - forgot the intoxicating bliss of Crowe's voice.
"I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely, and she recoiled at the sheer ugliness of the sound. How could he compare to Crowe? Crowe, who was lying, helpless, because of his actions. His hand crept forward, reaching for her mass of hair -
She snarled, biting at his fingers. He snatched his hand away and, with a single, fluid motion, used his other hand to sink the blade into the expanse between her collarbones. She looked down disbelievingly and had just enough time to register its odd properties - not solid after all, for it passed without effect through her skin.
She watched, stunned, as he dragged the weapon down into a long, arcing curve -
And screamed.
AN: Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed! I love reading all of your comments :)