Hermione took her time navigating through the crowds of students heading to their dormitories as she wound her way through the familiar halls of Hogwarts toward the Headmistress' office.
She had watched the sorting and eagerly sat for the feast, savoring the long missed taste of a Hogwarts meal. She didn't even let herself feel guilty about all of the House-elves who had prepared it.
Professor McGonagall had been detained by an issue with one of her students (Hermione hadn't seen it, but it looked like someone had been transfigured into a porcupine. Some things never changed). She had been instructed to wait for the Headmistress in her office.
She approached the gargoyle and gave it the password, pleased to see that it had fully recovered from its injuries.
Her eyes roamed the office as she entered, ignoring the one spot on the wall at which she most wanted to look. What would she say to him?
"Hello again, Miss Granger."
Her eyes immediately snapped to the portrait hanging in the place of honor behind the head's desk. Familiar, piercing blue eyes met her gaze.
"Hello, Professor."
"I have heard some unsettling news as of late."
Hermione averted her eyes again.
"From what Minerva has told me, you have been handling my old post expertly."
She blushed, but still didn't speak. She had never really had many dealings with Professor Dumbledore in life, and it was even more awkward to be speaking to the dead man's portrait. She was happy, at least, that she hadn't been the one who had to break the news of Harry's predicament to him.
"What can I do?" she squeaked finally, hearing the fear and uncertainty in her voice and hating herself for it. She had been maintaining a strong and capable front for those who needed to see it in her, but here, in the presence of the man she had always trusted to handle everything, she found herself reverting to a helpless little girl that she had never really been.
"Ah, Miss Granger," he said kindly. "You have been given a terrible load of responsibility to bear, but most often, those who are reluctant to wield power are those who bear it most well."
"But I don't have any power," she insisted. "I'm helpless against this. I have nothing but authority over a small, mismatched group of average wizards."
"The original Order was no different and accomplished much, but that is of no consequence. I am certain that the Order will have much to do with keeping this particular evil at bay, and little to do with actually eradicating it."
"What do you mean?"
"Of course I can only guess, and I must admit, the conjecture of a portrait is not the most reliable source of counsel, but I think, in the end, knowing Harry Potter will be what is of importance. And that is something I believe you do exceedingly well."
"I'm beginning to wonder about that," she admitted, but was cut short when Professor McGonagall entered the room.
"Not trying to give advice again, are you Albus?" she said, sweeping around her desk. She pointed over her shoulder at the portrait. "I wouldn't rely too heavily on him, Miss Granger. He has become extremely cryptic as of late." She spoke harshly, but there was a hint of amusement etched in her features.
"So what is it that you wanted to speak with me about, Hermione?"
"Well, I was wondering if you could tell me any more about what you found in the forest. Was there any evidence of what happened?"
"You mean evidence that it was Harry?"
"Voldemort," Hermione corrected stubbornly, but nodded.
"Unfortunately, we have no proof that it was him except the word of your spy. Is there any chance he or she would be willing to sacrifice his post to give testimony?"
"Probably, but having a spy is too valuable to give up."
McGonagall nodded. "You're welcome to search the forest yourself, but I must warn you, the beings there have become particularly defensive."
"I suppose I'll have to," Hermione sighed. She was not looking forward to entering the forest again. "Is there any chance you can spare your Care of Magical Creatures professor for a while?"
Barely ten minutes later, Hermione found herself entering the Forbidden Forest with a very sedate Hagrid and the now impossibly old Boarhound Fang. Hermione tried to make conversation with Hagrid, but he didn't seem very willing to talk. She knew from previous experiences with him that, like many others, he wasn't handling Harry's transition well.
After walking for only a few minutes, Hermione began to feel her face grow warm in the cool night air. A low but violent, sinister hiss of sloshing liquid could be heard, accompanied every now and then by a loud pop or crackling that echoed through the uncommonly quiet forest.
They entered into a clearing and Hermione's jaw dropped. She had heard, of course, but seeing it was something entirely different.
A massive pit of lava, spewing sparks and bubbles of liquid fire lit the dark night. It stretched angrily across the ground, leaping up and burning trees surrounding it. It seemed almost alive. She moved as close to it as she safely could. This was where an entire heard of Centaurs, some of whom she knew, had died. It stood here still as evidence of the atrocity that shouldn't have ever happened. Her eyes began to burn both from the heat, and from her suppressed tears.
A sudden movement in the trees beside her caught her eyes, and Hermione squinted through the fog and smoky haze to discern a young girl's face peering out at her.
"Hello?" she said tentatively. "Hello, are you a student?"
The girl stepped out into the clearing and Hermione drew her breath: It was a young Centaur.
Hagrid and Hermione both rushed to her.
"Are you here to kill me too?" she asked quietly and calmly, stopping Hermione in her tracks.
"No, of course not. Are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm okay. I'm all alone, but I'm not hurt if that's what you mean."
"Are you…Are you…the last one?"
The child nodded.
"But how did you survive?"
"My parents made me stay behind while they confronted Harry Potter. I followed but they didn't know it. I watched from right here while he killed them all and flew away." She said all of this in a flat, detached tone that broke Hermione's heart.
"It will be okay," Hermione said, putting her own interests aside. "Hagrid, can we take her back to the castle?"
"No!" the girl said, suddenly fierce. "I don't want to go with wizards. This is my home. The forest is my home. Even if I'm all alone I want to stay here."
Hermione stood staring at the young girl, not quite sure how to proceed.
"We won't make you go," she said finally. "But we can take care of you. We can help you."
"No," the girl answered, now more calmly. "I want to stay here."
Hermione didn't want to ask her next question, but she knew she had to.
"I'm from the Ministry for Magic. Do you know what that is?"
The girl nodded.
"We want to catch the man who did this, and you're the only person who saw what happened. You're the only one who can prove what he did. Will you come with me for just a little while, so we can punish the one who did this, and keep him from doing anything like this again?"
The girl considered her for a moment before speaking. "I am very young, but I know the ways of your Ministry. I know that, to you and your kind, I am nothing more than a barbarous animal. You will use me for your own purposes. I cannot trust what you say. The demon who did this will suffer: the stars have foretold it, but I will not help you."
Without another word, the girl galloped away from them at a startling pace. Hermione made to follow, but Hagrid held her back.
"Let her go," he said gruffly. "She's only bein' a Centaur, and we shouldn't take that from her too."
"That's ridiculous, Hagrid," Hermione answered, but she didn't try to go after the girl. Maybe Hagrid had a point.
Hermione parted with Hagrid at the edge of the forest, feeling dejected. As she made her way back through the gates and out into the night, she wondered how she was ever going to prove her accusations. Should she go back with a team of Aurors and force the young Centaur to come with her? Could she bring herself to do that?
There was an unseasonable chill in the air and Hermione was reminded forcibly of Dementors. She was only a few steps from the Hogwarts grounds when a voice broke through the silent night.
"Hello, Hermione."
She spun around to face the familiar voice, drawing her wand as she did, but it flew from her hand before she had even finished turning.
"Hello, Voldemort," she said calmly, making no move to run.
"That is one point on which I fear we must agree to disagree."
Hermione clenched her fists. She was standing against Voldemort defenseless, but she felt no fear, only overwhelming anger. She was looking into the now gaunt and pale face of the man who had been by her side for seven years. She was hearing the voice of the man she had known and loved for most of her life. She was looking into the once brilliant, now deadened green eyes of the boy she had once placed infinite trust in, and he was raising his wand at her, likely with the intention to kill. She felt no fear, only the desire to pummel the man before her until she physically forced that vile being from his soul. She felt like she might throw up.
"Harry, are you going to let him kill me?" she asked, meeting his eyes.
He laughed, humorlessly.
"No, Hermione. I have other uses for you."
"Harry will never let you hurt me," Hermione said, sticking her chin out and reminding herself of a stubborn child.
"Hermione, you must abandon this hope that I am not Harry Potter. You would do well to accept that I am Harry, and that I am working toward the greater good."
Hermione scoffed. "If you were Harry, you would know better than to use that phrase in front of me."
"Why, because it is the term Grindewald used? I know more than you think, girl. I know everything now that I knew then, but I have grown beyond that boy who thought he knew everything. I have embraced a different side of magic, the more powerful side, and I intend to use those powers for good. I intend to use them for 'the greater good,' so why shouldn't I say what I mean? You once believed in these things too, do you not remember? What happened to S.P.E.W? What happened to your indignation at the treatment of werewolves? You cared about these things once. When did that change? When the Ministry started writing your paychecks?"
Hermione snorted. "I'm not fooled by you, Voldemort."
"You always were a clever girl, but you never had wisdom."
"And I suppose you think you're 'wise' now?"
"Yes, actually. I have gained incredible wisdom, beyond what a child like you could ever imagine, and I intend to use it to take what is rightfully mine."
"You're confusing wisdom with evil."
He laughed. "There is no good and evil: Only power, and those too weak to seek it."
"Are you still selling that same old line? It didn't work on an eleven year old boy; do you really think it will work on me?"
It was almost imperceptible, but for a moment, she saw in his eyes a gleam of red. He regained himself quickly.
"I do not expect you to see anything but that which your blind faith in authority allows you to see. You have been a good puppet for the Ministry. I once thought we could change you, Ron and I. I now see that there never was a chance."
"Harry, don't you see what he's doing!" she shouted, suddenly angry. "He's manipulating your memories. He's using the knowledge he's gained from you to manipulate the people you care about. Don't you remember how much you hated having him in your head all those years ago? You don't have to let him do this!"
"Enough," he said firmly. "I am finished conversing with such a narrow minded fool."
"What do you plan to do with me?" she asked, speaking more bravely than she felt.
"To do with you?" he chuckled. "The correct question is: what do you plan to do with me?"
She had no idea what he meant, but she didn't want to admit her confusion.
"Here," he said, and to her surprise, he tossed her wand back to her. Then, in an even more unexpected move, he tossed his wand as well. She missed it when he threw it and had to scramble to pick it up from the ground. She shuddered as she realized that it was the Elder Wand.
"Not done playing around in Dumbledore's tomb yet, I see," she mumbled, straightening back up and pocketing his wand. She trained hers on him and narrowed her eyes. "What are you playing at?"
"I am 'playing at' nothing," he said innocently. "I am, as they say, turning myself in."
"Why?" she asked suspiciously.
"The Ministry thinks I have done wrong," he said with an infuriating smile. "I would like to give them a chance to prove their allegations. I do not want to be on the 'wrong side of the law.'"
Hermione hesitated. She knew this must be some kind of trick, but what could she do? She couldn't just let him walk away.
"Fine," she said after a moment, conjuring ropes and tying his hands securely behind his back. She wasn't sure why, but she used her hands to do so. Her hand momentarily brushed his and she felt him shudder. It was almost imperceptible, but she felt it all the same.
She stepped back in front of him and pointed her wand at him again.
"Accio hidden wand," she said. Nothing happened.
"Accio magical object." Again, nothing happened.
"Accio Muggle weapon." This last one was along shot, but she didn't want to take any chances.
He smiled as she looked at him, trying to figure out what he was planning.
Finally, when she saw no other option, she reached out her hand to grab his arm and Disapparate, but pulled it back at the last moment. She wanted to say something, but she didn't know how. What could she possibly say? It was Voldemort standing before her, not Harry, but it was hard to remember that when she was looking into the face of her best friend.
She shook her head and grabbed his wrist.
"I miss you, Harry," she said, and without waiting for a response, she turned on the spot and Apparated with him to the Ministry.
Near riots erupted outside the Ministry for Magic last night as Harry Potter was taken into custody by none other than Hermione Granger. His comments as he walked past the crowd of onlookers, head held high, suggested that he had turned himself in. "I haven't done anything wrong," he said. "If they hold me it will be illegally. I wanted to give them their chance to prove their allegations against me." Harry's convictions that his revolutionary actions have been well within the scope of the law seem more than valid, but the Ministry had him transferred to Azkaban late last night.
Protesters still gathered around the Ministry this morning wave signs and wear t-shirts bearing the now famous slogan "Free Harry Potter," and shout for the resignation of Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt. The riot has caused a near total walkout at the Ministry. It is rumored that only a few Ministry employees remain inside, while top officials protest the arrest of Harry Potter by their own employer. Thus far, the Ministry has remained silent, refusing to comment on the situation unfolding. There has been no word of Harry Potter's condition as he braves the prison once inhabited by those he fought valiantly against…
"What are we going to do?" Hermione asked warily, as she grew so disgusted she couldn't continue to read.
Kingsley looked utterly defeated as he sat down in the chair opposite her desk. "There's nothing we can do."
"Kingsley—" she protested.
"I have to resign."
"NO! If you do that, he wins."
"I have no choice. They'll have me arrested soon if I don't leave of my own will. This way I can still continue to work against him."
"No," Hermione said, but with less conviction this time. "If he takes the Ministry, there won't be any way to stop him."
"Well, even without it, we haven't been doing a very good job of that, have we?"
"Kingsley, no. You're Minister. Can't you just…I don't know…arrest them all or something?"
Kingsley looked at her for a long time, but didn't speak.
Finally he just stood up. "It's time. I don't think it will be safe for you here. It might be best if you Floo out."
"Kingsley," she pleaded. "Please."
He swept from the office without another word.
With one last look around the office that Hermione had worked so hard to attain, she threw a pinch of Floo Powder into the fire and stepped in.
Hermione arrived at Ron's flat in Hogsmeade and felt a sudden burst of panic. He wasn't there. She rushed down the stairs into the shop, calling for him, and didn't stop until she met George, confusedly staring at her. "What's going on?" He asked.
"Ron. Where is he?"
"Relax, Hermione. He's manning the shop on Diagon Alley today."
Hermione let out a sigh of relief.
"Come on," George said. "Let's get you some tea."
He had become much more concerned for others lately, and Hermione got the distinct impression that it was Lavinia's doing. She liked Lavinia very much, not least of all because she was actually capable of being married to a Weasley twin. She loved him for who he was, and would never ask him to change, but she definitely proved to be a good influence on him. She didn't take his crap, and she had been one of the major factors that pulled him out of the depression that seized him after Fred's death.
Hermione found herself being led back upstairs by George, and before she knew it, a cup of tea had been thrust in her hand.
"Bad day at they office?" he asked sarcastically, sitting down on the couch beside her. She could tell he had seen the paper.
"Oh, all and all not so bad," she answered, sipping her tea. "You know, Kingsley resigned, I effectively got sacked, and Voldemort has taken control again but like I said, all and all, not such a bad day."
George groaned and rubbed the place where his ear should be. It was a habit he had adopted during the war, and she noticed he did it whenever he thought about death or violence. She could tell he hadn't yet heard the news that she had just given him.
"What are we going to do?" he asked.
Why was everyone always asking her that? Why did she have to be the one in charge?
"Oh, I don't know," she answered, rubbing her eyes. "I suppose we should just give up and let him take over. Maybe it won't be so bad. I always kind of liked Voldemort: That whole snake-like slit for nostril thing was kind of sexy."
George gaped at her and it was a few moments before comprehension dawned on his face and he realized she was joking.
"What?" she asked. "Is it that rare that I make a joke?"
"No," he answered. "It's just rare that they're actually that funny."
She threw one of the small pillows that were beside her on the couch at him before standing up.
"I really would like to find Ron," she said. "I know it will be a while before Harry—I mean Voldemort is organized enough within the Ministry to send anyone after us, but I'm fairly certain he will eventually. We should speak to your parents about going into hiding."
"They won't do it," George answered.
"Have you asked them?"
"No, but you know how mum is. She still insists that Harry won't ever let him do anything to hurt us."
Hermione snorted. "After last night, I'm not entirely sure."
"What do you mean?" George asked. "What happened anyway?"
Hermione sighed. She really didn't want to tell anyone about what had happened, but she felt like she needed to discuss it with someone, and George really had become a good friend to her.
"He met me outside Hogwarts and we talked for a while, and then he told me to arrest him. It was that simple."
George looked at her and she knew he was expecting more.
"The thing was," she continued reluctantly, "When I was talking to him, I felt like…well, no, I felt like I was talking to Voldemort. His manner of speaking and the things he was saying were all very much like Voldemort, but there was something about his mannerisms, and about his eyes and facial expressions that almost made me feel like I was talking to Harry."
To Hermione's surprise, George laughed. "You don't suppose it could have had anything to do with the fact that you were talking to someone in Harry's body for the first time really in over five years?"
"Yes, I'm sure that's part of it," she said, brushing off his dismissal. "But I can't really explain it. It just felt like Harry. Maybe I'm losing it."
"I don't think you're losing it, but I think it's hard to separate them when he's using Harry's voice and body."
"Yes, you're probably right," she said, not really convinced. "I really should go."
"Okay. Tell Ron to stop borrowing from the register."
"I will," Hermione said, stepping into the fire.
Hermione fell to her knees as she came out on the other side and hadn't even gathered her bearings before she was roughly pulled to her feet.
"I got the girl," the Auror she recognized as Dawlish shouted.
Foolish, she thought: He wasn't even looking at her. He had grabbed her by her left arm and didn't seem to see her as a threat. With little effort, she pulled her wand from her pocket and stunned him. She placed the full body bind curse on him and couldn't resist stepping on him as she walked past.
She crept slowly through the room and saw something that made her praise the inventions of Fred and George more than she ever thought to before. A pair of extendable ears was lying on the mantle. She picked it up and slowly crept to the staircase leading down into the shop. She let the ears slowly trickle down and began to listen to the conversation coming from below.
"Do you think we should still wait?" an unfamiliar voice asked. "Runcorn already brought in Weasley, and if he's got Granger, I don't think anyone else will show up here."
"You're probably right." She cringed as she recognized the voice of Gordon Meyers, her assistant at the Ministry. "They'll probably need help bringing everyone in from Ottery St. Catchpole."
"Dawlish, you coming or what?" the first voice shouted and Hermione dropped her extendable ears and ran back to the fireplace. She had to get to the Burrow.
A/N: Eternal thanks to those who took the time to review! Nothing makes me smile more.
