Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of Harry Potter. I'm simply borrowing the characters and some of the plot for a little while.
I know that some were not very happy with one (or more) character(s) in the last chapter. Hang in with me. There is a reason to my madness.
Chapter 9
Upon regaining consciousness, the absolute, silent darkness that greeted her immediately told Maia what Moody had tried to do.
Her first thought was to give him the benefit of the doubt, despite his behavior toward her for most of the night; she did have a part to play in antagonizing him, after all. Perhaps he did not know what he was subjecting her to when he brought her – unapprised of her location – onto the Fidelius protected property. The bitter part of her that had been born during her years as an Order spy, however, reminded her exactly who Moody was: the black-and-white ex-Head Auror of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and recent Death Eater hostage. This latest incident, which his "constant vigilance" failed to prevent, was no doubt going to make the wizard even more paranoid than normal. In reference to the matter at hand, she knew from Lily that all Aurors had to first experience any spell that might be used against a suspect (save the Killing Curse). It's what made the use of the Imperius curse on students plausible the previous year, if not appropriate, and why it wouldn't raise any red flags from persons of authority. Moody knew very well what happened to those brought onto a Fidelius protected property without having first been informed.
Maia felt her mind begin to panic and knew that her body must be responding – widened eyes, accelerated breathing, tensed posture – but she could neither see nor feel any of it. It was one of the things that made the Fidelius Charm so effective as protection. Should someone be brought onto the property, having not been brought in on the secret by its Keeper, that person was immediately deprived of all their physical senses. Without their senses, they were limited to incorporeal thought and emotion, otherwise incapacitated and at the mercy of anyone to whom the secret did not apply.
"Are you sure you want to do this?"
"I need to be sure that it will work. You are the one determined to move forward with it…"
Echoes of her last, in-person conversation with Lily filtered through her frantic mind. It would only make sense that it would go back to the only other time she had experienced the madness-inducing state that was Fidelius-caused sensory deprivation. Her worst thoughts and memories, those that could easily overwhelm her, were racing to the forefront of her mind now that she had no physical distraction to keep them at bay; she latched onto her last memory of Lily, hoping that it would ground her until her self-dubbed "captors" came to their senses. Her test of the Fidelius Charm's protection hadn't lasted forever then, and surely the men holding her were not so heartless that it would last long now.
"We've been living under the menace of the Dark Lord for years," Maia stated quietly, as she and her red-headed friend hastened through the darkened alleys of Muggle London. "I have heard of no direct threat against you that would result in taking this kind of action. It seems a little extreme. You do realize –"
"Dumbledore assures us that it is necessary, even if he was vague on why," Lily interrupted resolutely, her green eyes alert to their surroundings. The scrabbling of clawed feet through the trash littering the pavement was the only thing to be heard in the otherwise empty passage, the sounds of distant traffic easily ignored. She shook her head, giving away her own doubts. "Whether or not he's right, I have Harry to think of now. James has been rather vocal in his repeated defamation of You-Know-Who – not that I blame him – and you know that he doesn't take rejection lightly. It cannot hurt for us to go through with it."
Maia scoffed. It wouldn't hurt to be as trapped as any prisoner in their own house for an indeterminate amount of time?
Lily looked to her with reproach, easily guessing her train of thought. "Really, Maia. The risk if we didn't and we were wrong…"
Maia would never forget the absolute devastation that filled Lily's eyes at the mere thought of something happening to Harry. Her resolve to see that night's mission through was solidified, regardless of her belief in its overkill. She was no more willing to risk Harry – or Lily, though the other woman didn't appear to be thinking of herself – than her friend. Merlin knew that, spy or not, his "consort" or not (thank Merlin, it hadn't progressed that far), she was not privileged with the knowledge of all the Dark Lord's missions.
The pair paused at the exit of the alley, looking around cautiously to ensure they hadn't been followed or observed. It was risky to meet in the open like this, even if the hour was late. Maia almost couldn't remember the last time they had come together as themselves, with no use of potions or transfiguration to alter their appearances, without fear of discovery. The only reason they did so, now, was due to the complex nature of casting the Fidelius Charm that required the caster – as Keeper – be "pure;" while that may have meant pure of intention – it was a spell for protection, after all – they didn't want to take any chances. Regardless, the probability of Dark wizards wandering the darkened streets of this antiquated street in Muggle London were slim, and Maia had to be certain that the actions her friend was taking would be enough to keep her and her family safe. Books, as informative as they were, were no true replacement for experience.
Taking a hold of Lily's cool hand, Maia pulled her along until they came to a stop in front of an ornate, old townhome. The white molding surrounding the diamond-paned windows stood out in stark contrast against the dark brick of the building, the light from a nearby post highlighting the rises and falls in the intricate carvings above the front door. The large boxes situated below each of the windows looked depressingly bare, and Maia made a mental note to have one of the elves come spruce it up, should Lily take her up on her offer of using it as a back-up safe house. It was her primary reason for volunteering it as the test subject for Lily's spell.
Taking a deep breath, she looked to Lily and asked, "What do you think?"
"I can't tell much from the outside," Lily said, lightly teasing, "But it seems like it would make a warm home. Good for a family." The subtle, hinting arch above Lily's twinkling eyes made Maia scowl.
"Unless you wish for me to bear baby tyrants, I suggest you keep those thoughts to yourself," Maia groused bitterly, her hopeful mood at revealing the building to her closest friend dampened. With her father's acceptance of Antonin's proposal, her hopes of a loving home filled with several laughing children had dimmed; the interest the Dark Lord took in her had killed the dream entirely.
Lily placed a hand on the pale witch's shoulder and squeezed comfortingly. "The war won't last forever."
"Neither will a relationship, once my part in said war is revealed." Maia shrugged off Lily's hand, crossing her arms over her chest protectively. What man could overlook her negligence to save others? To murder the helpless, even if it was meant to be merciful? Before the red-head could say anything in her defense, she snapped, "Drop it, Lily. Let's do what we came here to do. You know the spell?"
Lily looked to her friend in silence for a moment, her green eyes heavy with sorrow for what the pale witch had voluntarily taken upon herself – for what she had willingly given up in the process. Seeing that the conversation was closed – for now – she gathered her bearings and nodded. Pulling out her wand, she asked, "Are you sure you wish for me to be the Keeper?"
Maia sighed with a roll of her eyes. "Quite. I don't want the Dark Lord or his followers learning of this property. My Occlumency may be good, but even I can't be perfect all the time."
"I wish I had a pensieve to record that," Lily muttered distractedly, her focus now turned to the building in front of her. "What of your Muggle neighbors?"
"Already Confunded," Maia confirmed. "They won't recall there ever being a townhome located at 7 Araluen Court."
"Right," Lily confirmed, her jaw tensed. "Make sure we're not seen, would you?"
Maia didn't say anything to confirm the directive; her compliance was demonstrated with the turning of her back to return to the pavement. Once there, she began to cast numerous wards and Muggle-repelling charms, layering them one on top of the other to ensure their strength held over time. Minutes passed in near silence as each witch worked, and before she knew it, half an hour had passed. When Maia turned back to check on Lily's progress, it was to her surprise that neither she nor the townhome could be seen; she had not heard or felt a thing.
"Lily?" Maia called quietly. She nearly jumped in surprise when the witch suddenly appeared at her side. Fine tendrils of red hair stuck to her forehead, a light sheen of perspiration dewing her face. Feeling cheeky, for she knew that the Muggle-born was typically good at most spells she undertook with little effort, she asked, "Struggle a little, did you? You really need to keep that wand of yours in shape."
"Sod off," Lily huffed in good-natured irritation. Her opportunities to practice complex spell work had been limited since she had Harry. Besides, the day that the two witches weren't competing was the day that the sun rose in the west. She looked critically from where the townhome should be located to Maia. "Well? Can you see anything?"
Maia grinned and shook her head in the negative. "Good job, Lily. No doubt you'll be safe now."
Lily smiled proudly at the charmed home, her hands on her hips in satisfaction of a job well-done. "Oh, I won't be casting it at home. I can't be the Keeper if I can never leave the house to tell anyone who needs to know the secret."
Alarm etched Maia's face, her brows narrowing in concern. "But who –" She stopped. Her dubious position meant that the information could not be guaranteed safe with her.
When Lily opened her mouth to respond, Maia quickly placed her hand up to stop her. Sadness at the reality of what Lily and her family were doing swept through her like a forceful wind, leaving her internal equilibrium off-balance. When would she see her friend again after this night? "Don't tell me. I don't need to know."
She looked resolutely in the direction of the hidden home and squared her shoulders. Holding out her hand for Lily to take, she suggested, "Shall we?" She had to be certain that no one could get to the Potter family, that they would be safe on their own charmed property. How better to do that than to test it, herself?
Lily took her hand but didn't move to step forward. She looked seriously at her childhood friend, her eyes filled with a sad tenderness that made Maia want to weep. Her next words, emphasized by the squeezing of their hands, sounded as though she were trying to convince and reassure herself just as much as Maia. "This isn't goodbye forever, you know."
Maia recalled the exact shade of Lily's green eyes as they had been in that moment with perfect clarity; the almost daily reminder that she got seeing them in Harry's face made them impossible to forget. They had been so earnest when she made her declaration. She had been wrong, though, and as Maia's thoughts took a dark turn, her recollection of clear green eyes evolved. Lily's green eyes – the color as bright as any jewel – were a shade of green so like something far less warm…something far more deadly…
…isn't goodbye forever…
Mental screams began to echo in her ears, the imaginary cries for mercy from her victims beginning to drown out the comforting memory of her only friend. Her weakening defenses could almost imagine those screams were Lily's, as she begged for the life of her only child. Maia wished to lift her hands to cover her ears, but she remained trapped in the vast darkness created by the Fidelius Charm.
…goodbye forever…
No, no, no, Maia began to chant loudly in her head. If she could feel it, she knew her head would be shaking frantically from one side to the other in a desperate attempt to keep her ghosts at bay. To keep the memories of Lily's death – still raw from their recent discovery – from drowning her.
…goodbye…
The sharp pain that she felt where her heart should be raged through her, leaving abject loss, devastation, and a cold isolation in its wake. Sensing her vulnerability, her worst nightmares and greatest regrets surged forward gleefully to assault her defenseless mind.
LILY!
"LILY!"
The feminine scream of absolute anguish echoed through the empty rooms and dusty corridors of Grimmauld Place, sending chills through the few present to hear it. When it reached one Sirius Black, it acted as effectively as any Sober Up potion he'd ever consumed and sent him running down the stairs from his top floor bedroom back to the family library. He skidded to a halt just past the open doors, alarm filling his face at the sight of Hermione Granger thrashing on the worn couch set before the fireplace. Her arms were barely restrained by Mad-Eye Moody's heavy grip as a horrified Harry looked on with his hands hovering near her shoulders, unsure of what to do. His godson was so focused on the cries of the hysterical witch that he didn't appear to notice Sirius's arrival.
Sirius looked over to where Remus stood as if frozen, his face ashen and amber eyes bleak with pain. Seething that his friend could so callously stand by while the young witch was so obviously restrained against her will, he paced quickly over to the wolf and gave him a hard shove, which caused an automatic growl of anger in response. "What the fuck, Remus! Stop him!"
"Wait, Bla–" Moody was unable to finish his growled statement as one of Hermione's jerking legs caught him – hard – in the gut, forcing out a lungful of air with a pained grunt. The combination of Sirius's attack and Moody's struggle to breathe was enough to wake Remus from his stupor – one to which he, himself, didn't fully understand – and the two Marauders made their way over to where the witch continued to fight, tears streaming down her agonized face from panicked eyes.
"Hermione! Hermione, stop!" Sirius cried, grabbing a hold of her arms as they slipped from Moody's grasp. He felt sick to see her sharp fingernails tipped in blood where she had managed to harshly claw at her chest through the thin material of her shirt. He barely managed to dodge her knee as it jolted perilously close to the juncture of his thighs. Through gritted teeth, he cursed, "Bloody hell, witch, stop! You're safe!"
Remus was valiantly trying to ignore the iron smell of her blood as it wove through her icy scent; something about her self-inflicted wounds was driving Moony's agitation up exponentially and seeing the two grown wizards struggle to hold her down wasn't helping. He watched as she continued to fight, trying to analyze where and how he could help, given the limited room available. When his still amber eyes locked onto hers, he saw that her pupils had blown wide enough to nearly eliminate the brown surrounding them. They appeared to be frantically searching for something…anything. Realization seemed to dawn on his face moments before he commanded, "Alastor! Sirius! Let her go, now!"
In surprise at the order, both wizards did as they were directed just as Remus sent a red stunner at Hermione's chest. Like a puppet whose strings had been cut, the young witch's body fell limp, one arm and leg falling haphazardly over the edge of the couch to drag the dusty floor.
Sirius looked at him and Moody – who was struggling to regain his breath – with fire raging in his storm colored eyes. "What the fuck just happened?"
Moody growled, his expression ominous. He began again, "You don't understand –"
"You're fucking right, I don't understand!" Sirius interrupted, eyes blazing. He ran his hands harshly through his long hair, gripping it tightly at the roots, before gesturing wildly to the witch lying unconscious on the couch. "Merlin, Moody! Have you actually gone mad?"
"Sirius –"
"No, Remus!" Sirius stormed, waving his arms to cut him off. He pointed a finger at his friend, fuming. "You just stood there, letting him manhandle her! She was your student. She's Harry's friend. What –"
"That's not Hermione," came a shaken voice from the head of the couch.
The three wizards turned to see Harry, his wide eyes locked painfully on the lifeless witch. His pale face showed his inner conflict as he remembered her test at the Dursleys'. He amended, "Or it is…I think, but…" As his voice trailed off, his chest burned hot with hate, most of it directed at Moody for making him doubt her identity with his Death Eater accusations. A small part of his mind, the part that understood and appreciated Hermione's cool logic, reminded him that he had his own – well-founded, he internally defended – Malfoy prejudice that left him open to the suggestion.
Sirius darted over to Harry, pulling him into a fierce hug. "Bugger, Harry. Are you alright?"
He took a step back, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders and began to inspect him closely. His brows furrowed, he asked, "What do you mean, she isn't Hermione?"
"Exactly what I've been trying to tell you, Black," Moody harshly bit out, muttering under his breath about impertinent hot heads. His wand withdrawn, he began slashing it harshly over the witch's form for the second time that night. Sirius's eyes widened perceptibly to see the same platinum haired witch from the night of the Third Task.
Despite her obvious inability to retaliate, Sirius took a protective stance in front of Harry. He looked cautiously over to Remus, who had chosen to sag back with fatigue against the fireplace mantle as his tension slowly eased, and asked, "What's going on, Moony?"
"I went to he Ministry and caught up with Dumbledore as he was talking to Alastor and Arthur," Remus said, his voice rough. He was more than ready for this night to end. "He understood the Patronus message immediately and dispatched the three of us to retrieve Harry. When we arrived at the Leaky, we found Harry, Fred, George, and 'Hermione'."
The quotation marks around the last name were obvious from his dubious tone. He glanced over to the platinum witch curiously, before continuing, "Although she looked roughly like Hermione, her scent was off; though it seems familiar, it's not Hermione's and I can't place it. Moody stripped her of her glamour to reveal the witch before us. We brought Harry and – the witch – back here."
Here he paused. Remus's eyes slammed shut and his nostrils flared, bringing her wintry scent – now liberally mixed with salt and iron – to his nose. When one hand came up to pinch the bridge of his nose, Sirius's dark brows rose in consternation. When his eyes opened again, amber orbs flashed in aggravation over to the ex-Auror. "They'd been bickering all night, but Moody took it a step further. The note Dumbledore wrote for the pair to get them into headquarters was only read by Harry. Moody Stunned the witch so we could bring her in and then woke her up again."
Sirius snapped his head over to the grizzled wizard with a penetrating look, the latter of whom maintained a look of defiance. Harry watched his godfather's reaction, allowing curiosity to push back on the anger that still threatened to spill over. If she was, without a doubt, Hermione…he shook his head, and asked, "Why is that a bad thing? I mean, she couldn't see it, so how else could we bring her in?"
Remus looked briefly at Harry, before returning his gaze to Sirius's disbelieving visage. "I assume from your face that I was right, that whatever was wrong with her was caused by Fidelius?"
Sirius's eyes flashed to him in accusation. "You would 'guess' right. Why didn't you stop him, Remus?"
Remus's eyes flashed amber again at the allegation. Suppressing a growl, he bitterly said, "I am not nearly as familiar with the intricacies of the Fidelius Charm as you are, Sirius. I'm not an Auror to have been trained on it, and if you recall, someone didn't trust me the last time it was employed by our mutual friends. I know only the bare minimum about it, because I trusted that my friends knew what they were doing, and I didn't need to know more."
Sirius looked away guiltily, his eyes falling on the incoherent woman. Seeing Harry shift in his periphery, he decided to enlighten the less informed in the room. He'd have to talk to Moody later about his use of war-time tactics on children. "I don't know how much you've heard about the technical aspects of the Fidelius Charm, Harry," a brief pause indicted that his knowledge was either small or non-existent, "But it's an ancient, defensive spell originally created for the sole purpose of concealment."
Remus stood from his reclined position at the mantle and walked over to the unconscious witch while Sirius crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at her with pity. He explained, "Generally, those who have not been told the secret by its Keeper remain blissfully unaware of its existence. When placed on something physical – such as a house – all trace of it disappears from the senses of the uninformed.
"It has been used in the past, however, more offensively. Aurors are trained to use it in such a way; just another tool in our arsenal, so to speak. If an uninformed individual should find themselves surrounded by the secret, as is the case with –" He paused, not sure what to call her.
"Er…we've been calling her Hermione, but…" Harry hesitated, his eyes cutting momentarily to the strangely quiet ex-Auror. "She said she is also a Malfoy."
Before Moody could get in a word of gloating triumph, Harry rushed to continue, "She said she'd answer our questions – mine and the twins – but we needed to wait until we got to Order headquarters; the Leaky Cauldron wasn't safe enough, or something."
Remus saw Sirius look calculatingly down at the pale witch. They had already discussed the possibility of Lucius having a "love child;" while they had initially thought it to be unlikely, given the Black family's penchant for anger management issues, the evidence was certainly compelling. He shook his head, determined to think on it more later after he'd had a chance to rest. Choosing, instead, to get them back on topic, he asked, "So, what happens to those you bring, uninformed, onto Fidelius protected property?"
Sirius released a tired sigh. "When you brought her in and revived her, her mind was not prepared. As the house is still completely removed from her senses, she cannot perceive the light provided by the room to see, leaving her in unrelieved darkness. She cannot hear the sounds of anything made in the house, nor can she smell it. She cannot feel anything within the property, and so is deprived of her sense of touch. Anything ingestible that resides here is protected just the same and would not trigger her sense of taste.
"For all intents, she experienced the most extreme form of sensory deprivation upon awakening. Her mind and her emotions are her only company until she is told the secret."
"So, tell her!" Harry proclaimed, his mind finding it difficult to grasp just what Sirius had so calmly described. His remorse was like a punch to the gut – a sentiment shared by Remus – knowing that he had accused her of doing something similar to Rita Skeeter mere hours ago. Had Moody done this on purpose? If Sirius were right that all Aurors were trained to use it this way, it seemed plausible. Regardless of her questionable identity, to awaken her like that was inhumane.
"We can't," Sirius said reluctantly, finally looking up from the unconscious witch. He had his own brief, fear-filled experience with the sensory deprivation described. Although he had experienced it in Auror training with James, it had been rather clinical in its execution; they were under just long enough to get an understanding of what they would be subjecting their prisoners to, should they ever have to utilize that method. The less pleasant experience came when Pete – the fucking rat – had thought it an excellent prank to play on the raven-haired Marauder after becoming the Potter's Secret Keeper. The traitor had not known just how serious the effects were and had spent the next several weeks groveling to Sirius in amends. If only he'd known just how insincere the coward's apology was…
Remus picked up where Sirius left off, seeing from his faraway gaze and tense jaw that he was remembering something unpleasant. "Even though we know the secret ourselves, only the Secret Keeper can reveal it to someone new. We'll have to wait for Dumbledore to come."
Sirius clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, bringing his attention back to him. He spared a frowning glance at the witch, before turning back to Harry. "Come on, pup. Let's go get you settled. We're about to be besieged by gingers, so you better take advantage of all the vacant rooms now."
"What about Hermione?" Harry asked. He heard Moody growl out some indecipherable answer.
"I'll take care of her, Harry," Remus reassured, less than pleased with the continuing antagonistic behavior from the elder wizard and feeling guilty for his own, unwitting part in her current state.
As Harry was guided from the room by Sirius, the latter of whom was doing his best not to think of what the witch went through to cause her to react as she had, he threw one more look over his shoulder at the female Malfoy. He saw that Remus had knelt to pick her up, choosing to physically carry her over using his wand, while muttering angrily to a scowling Moody. Turning back forward, he followed his godfather up the stairs to select a room.
Remus wasn't listening to any more of Moody's prejudiced tripe that night, ignoring the wizard as he warned that the witch wasn't to be trusted. She was fucking unconscious, for Godric's sake! He followed the same path up the stairs to the guest rooms on the third floor and selected the room across from his. He concluded that if she truly was a threat – impossible though it was in her current state – then it would be better to have her closer.
He shoved open the wooden panel with his shoulder, the loud creak of long-unused hinges grating unpleasantly on his sensitive ears. Seeing that the bed linens were in sore need of washing, Remus shifted the small woman awkwardly into one arm and used his wand to remove the decades-thick layer of dust from the faded comforter before kneeling to lay her down.
Standing back to his full height after carefully placing her on the bed, he recalled with pained clarity her tortured cry for his deceased friend. The pain in her voice, reinforced by the dried tear tracks on her cheeks, spoke of something fresh, raw, and unbearable; the scratches on her torso that had begun to scab over were a testament to her overwhelming emotional pain. Though many years had passed, he knew with acute precision just deeply that pain was felt. What didn't make sense was how – and why – a witch so young would feel so tormented by a death that occurred to a stranger when she would have been nothing more than a toddler, herself.
Remus leaned tiredly against a pillar on the four-poster bed and quietly murmured, "Just who are you, little witch?"
Despite being only a few days from the full moon, he was so deep in his thoughts that his heightened senses failed to pick up on the other Marauder-in-residence that had paused just outside the open door on his way back to his own room. Having heard Remus's question, Sirius couldn't help but wonder the same thing.
