A/N: This was an incredibly hard chapter. Sorry, it took so long. The next chapter is already written and only needs to be betaed, so I'm hoping you'll get it sooner :)

I hope you enjoy this story. Don't forget to review.


If you have to ask, you'll never know. If you know, you need only ask.

- J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows


11. Discoveries

The fresh air and the brisk walk cleared Dean's mind, and he lifted his face into the cold drizzle, as if in hope that it would wash away his feelings of guilt. He tried to focus solely on his breathing, trying to banish the urge to destroy, to hurt, and kill.

Little by little, he calmed down enough to realise how selfish he'd acted. What if Hermione had woken up by now? What if the others were called to another hunt, and had to go without him because he'd taken off?

Dean stopped and looked around. He had no idea where he was. The streets were empty and dark, the orangish colour of the sodium street lights barely seeming to make a difference. Brick houses with dirty and broken windows stared down on him. It smelled like garbage and abandonment.

Awesome, he thought bitterly.

He could faintly remember turning corners and crossing streets, but he certainly didn't know how to find his way back to the hospital on foot, or Grimmauld Place for that matter. However, if he could find the next subway station – or the Tube, as they called it here – he knew where to go. His father had taught him well, to always be aware of his surroundings and exit routes, which included street names or something as simple as the next bus stop or subway station.

Dean could 'borrow' a car of course, but this was not a life-or-death situation, and he didn't really feel like fighting traffic while driving on the wrong side of the road.

Sighing, he turned and walked down the empty street.

It was late when Dean finally arrived at Grimmauld Place. His shoulders drawn up against the wind, he leapt up the few steps to the front door.

Dean knocked, and a few seconds later, that creature - house elf? - opened the door, shooting a disgusted glare at him and muttering about having to open doors for Muggles. Dean ignored his words, simply thankful to be in the warmth of the house.

"Sam?" he called. "Harry?"

Nobody answered. The house stayed eerily quiet. Dean could even hear the faint ticking of the clock in the library.

"Where is everyone?" he asked Kreacher, who was about to descend to the kitchen.

"Kreacher doesn't know. Kreacher doesn't keep track of where master goes," the house elf grumbled and disappeared without another look.

"Awesome."

Dean checked his phone, but no new messages or calls. Gee, would it hurt Sam to let him know what was going on? Deciding against calling his brother or Harry, Dean slowly climbed up the stairs, but paused before he entered his own room. His eyes flickered to Hermione's door. Except for the one night, he'd never seen her room. As noiselessly as a hunting cat, he tiptoed towards it, but he didn't open the door just yet. His fingers lingered a few inches over the doorknob, hesitating.

Hermione would be angry… but who said she had to find out about it? Dean wanted answers, wanted to know more about her, about her past, about the war that had scarred her so deeply, physically and emotionally.

Maybe her room held some answers.

Then, his fingers closed around doorknob, and he pushed the door open.


Hermione stepped through the doors of the Hogwarts library. Instantly, the familiar smell of dust and books greeted her, grounded, and calmed her. Her shoulders relaxed, and her headaches subsided a little. Suddenly, she felt like she could do this, like she could solve this case.

Harry had stayed behind at the Ministry, because of an emergency meeting together with Kingsley, Mad-Eye, Arthur, and others. Hermione's conclusions - that there was a Death Eater conspiracy - had caused nothing short of a panic, and the Auror office was under extreme pressure.

Hermione couldn't help them. She had no mind for politics and press campaigns. She wanted to figure out how many monsters were out there, if they were connected, and how magic would affect them.

It wasn't that only the Hogwarts library could provide the information she needed, the Ministry also held an extensive collection of books… but it didn't feel the same. Here, she felt more at ease, more at home than anywhere in the world. She'd helped restore the library after the war, had tirelessly repaired books and cleaned floors.

"I can't believe I'm actually here," Sam said, stepping to her side. "I'm standing in a magical school."

Hermione smiled at him. "And you might just be the only Muggle who ever will." It had barely taken any convincing for the headmistress to alter the protection spells, so that Sam was able to see and walk through the school.

"Awesome," Sam echoed Dean's usual phrase, but in this case, it was simply fitting. He suddenly felt a little guilty, but he hadn't had time to contact his brother. The magic here and at the Ministry jammed his cell. Hermione'd offered to send Dean an owl, but Sam wasn't sure how Dean would react to that. His brother had probably ended up in some bar in London, drowning his self-hatred and guilt in alcohol - and the barmaid, most likely.

As they made their way through the empty library to the restricted section, Sam tried to skim over some titles, but now was not the time to get lost in books about magic.

Hermione took out the case files as soon as they'd sat down. Without another word, she handed Sam half of the pile, and, silently, they started working. About five hours and three cups of coffee - in Sam's case - or black tea - in Hermione's case - later, they'd sorted the cases into three neat piles.

The smallest one contained solved cases where they were reasonably sure that no Death Eaters were involved. The much bigger pile contained solved and mostly unsolved cases where the profile and victimology fit to Death Eater attacks. And the last pile contained unsolved cases that didn't fit the profile and might be traced back to other monsters.

Hermione leaned back and rolled her shoulders. She was dead on her feet. Her head felt empty, as if stuffed with cotton wool, and the slight headache from the hospital had intensified to a barely tolerable pain.

"I'll send these to Harry," Hermione finally said, tapping the Death Eater pile with her wand. Instantly, it disappeared into thin air.

"What about the rest?" Sam asked, eyeing the thick pile with unsolved non-Death-Eater-related cases.

Hermione rubbed her eyes. "I'll talk to Harry. But I guess the Death Eater ones will have priority. Maybe you and Dean can tackle these on your own if it's just a common monster."

Sam nodded tersely. "Hermione, don't take this the wrong way, but… you look horrible," he said quietly, and she could read the concern in his eyes.

Hermione was too tired to argue. Besides, she knew he was right. "Do you want me to send you back to Grimmauld Place?"

"You're not going there?" Sam questioned.

She shook her head. "I'll stay here for the night. I want to talk to the Headmistress tomorrow."

"McGonagall?"

Hermione nodded.

"She's a bit scary, you know that?" Sam said, causing the Gryffindor to smile knowingly. "If it's okay, I'd rather stay here. If it's my only chance to ever be in a magical castle, I have to use it. Maybe you can show me around tomorrow?"

Hermione nodded, smiling about the hopeful note in Sam's voice, and gathered the case files. "Then, come on."

They left the library and followed dark torch-lit hallways to a large staircase. The castle was chilly; winter hadn't quite left these walls yet. Hermione felt goose bumps run over her skin. She pinned them on the cold, not on the memories that were attached to these halls. Dead bodies on the ground. Fred. Tonks. Lupin. She should be over that by now, but she wasn't. She could still see the blood splattered on the floor, the paintings ripped apart by curses, the burn holes that marked the ancient wood like bruises. The marble staircase had been in pieces.

"This is the main staircase," Hermione said, trying to pull herself together. "Be careful, sometimes the stairs change direction."

Sam nodded absentmindedly, his mouth slightly agape.

Normally, Hermione would've loved to explain everything to him, but it took all her strength to climb up the stairs to Gryffindor tower.

After she'd settled Sam on one of the comfortable couches, she dragged herself up to her room and fell on the bed, not even bothering to change. The second her head touched the pillow, Hermione was asleep.


Although Sam was really tired, he couldn't fall asleep. He knew that only a few hours ago he'd been unconscious, but the magic and the fiery potion - Pepper-up Potion? - had given him back his energy. The couch was comfy enough - Hermione had magically enlarged it - but his senses were on high alert. From the corner of his eyes, he could see the paintings moving. So far he'd only seen dark hallways with knights and statues and the Gryffindor Common Room, but there must be more.

Hermione had promised to show him everything tomorrow, but she'd seemed liked she'd sleep through the day. Sam didn't want to miss his chance. He'd read the newest edition of Hogwarts. A History quite carefully, so he knew about the Room of Requirement, the Chamber of Secrets, the dungeons, the ghost that was a teacher, the Forbidden Forest with so many magical beasts, the Quidditch ground, the Triwizard Tournament, the Battle of Hogwarts… and he wanted to see everything. If only to rub it into his brother's nose, who had missed the chance to ever be in Hogwarts.

However… Sam wasn't quite sure if Dean would really appreciate the castle or just see the evil side, the ghosts and the werewolves.

Hermione had told him that Hogwarts was heavily protected by Aurors because, every now and then, malevolent creatures tried to break in and murder the whole student population. But apparently, none of the students was overly concerned about that. They had already survived one battle and were sure that they could handle another one, if need be.

Deciding that sleep was for the dead, Sam got to his feet, grabbed his jacket, and ventured out the portrait hole. The painting of the lady guarding the Common Room looked disapprovingly at him, but stayed silent. He remembered that the Room of Requirement was situated on the seventh floor, so he traced back his steps to the grand staircase and walked up until he reached the seventh floor. It took him quite some time to find the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy.

Would the room open for him - a Muggle? Sam wasn't sure. Also, he'd read that you could only enter when you were in real need of it. So what did he desperately need now?

Sam considered that for a moment before it hit him. A way to defeat the hybrid-creatures, obviously!

Sam rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. Then, he focused on that need, on the urge to protect people, to protect this school, and walked up and down the tapestry three times