Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley scurried from the confines of Grimmauld Place in the dead of night. They might have had fleeting thoughts of recklessness, but such thoughts were quickly dismissed. It wasn't the first time they had been in such a position, and it probably wouldn't be their last.
They had their rucksacks packed, not nearly as precise as Hermione Granger would have done for them, but they couldn't risk it. They didn't want to risk it. They had seen the Wanted posters sporting her wild mane, and they wished nothing more than to protect her.
It was foolishness on their part, but it was far too late to correct their errors. They hadn't the slightest idea where they were headed, and they imagined Hermione shaking her head at their foolishness, which brought them comfort.
"Do you know where to start?" Ronald Weasley was the first to break the silence, while he and Harry avoided the most populated areas of the Wizarding World.
Harry had not confided in Ron as far as the whisperings in his head. He knew there would be scepticism, and chose to avoid it, if possible. The Minister for Magic had been unwilling to listen, and while Ron was exceedingly loyal, he also had a temper. Harry didn't enjoy the thought of traipsing through the countryside, or anywhere else really, alone. He hadn't Hermione by his side this time to break up the din.
"Godric's Hollow is as good a place as any."
Ron nodded slowly, as he recognised the determined glint in the familiar green eyes, and shrugged. It was better than any idea he had. Vaguely, he wished he had brought Narcissa's pancakes along for a bit of a snack.
Harry knew Godric's Hollow was important to Tom Riddle, but it would never be as important to anyone, as it was to him. It was the place his parent's had lived. It was the place he was born. It was the place his mother had sacrificed herself. It was the place he had been marked by a Prophecy that had altered his entire life.
"How long do you suppose it'll take Hermione to suss out what we've done?" Ron ambled along beside Harry, as they ducked behind trees when the clouds cleared and the moon shone brightly down upon them.
"She's probably having tea with Cissa and grumbling that we've left her behind. I don't know if she'll forgive us for this…" Harry sighed, and adjusted his pack, while he made a mental note to use a Charm to lighten it later.
"She'll forgive us if we find that last horcrux. She won't be able to stay angry with us. Perhaps, she'll entertain the idea of being with me then. I reckon I could be a hero if we succeed. Girls seem to like that." Ron smiled happily, and Harry ignored his mate's implications.
He knew as well as anyone, Hermione was never going to settle for Ron. She loved him, of course, she did, but it wasn't enough. She needed to be challenged, and Ron wasn't the right sort of wizard for that.
"I think she's planning a rescue," Harry mumbled and cringed, as he realised he had spoken aloud.
"A rescue for who? Hannah's back and everyone else is hidden away. There's no one left, Harry." Ron waved his arms about, and Harry knew Ron was angry.
"It was just a thought. She's been spending loads of time with Narcissa, and well, Narcissa has only one thing on her mind these days." Harry grasped Ron by the elbow and led him into a dark alley.
He surveyed the area, while he listened carefully for sounds of humanity, but came up empty. He kept a firm hold on Ron's arm and warned him to remain silent with a simple look. Ron nodded and swallowed hard. He didn't have particularly fond memories as far as Side-Along-Apparition was concerned, but he trusted Harry.
The crack in the air probably would have made them jump, if they had been present. Instead, a pair of narrowed soulless eyes smiled nastily and easily followed. It wasn't difficult to follow the traces of Magic in the air, if one was well versed in such things.
The Dark Lord had been quick to instruct his best Death Eaters in Tracking. It was a skill he revered, and necessary when hunting down enemies. The majority of his loyal followers had been killed in battle or captured, but the ones that remained were rabidly loyal.
Selwyn was as heartless as his cousin, Dolores Umbridge. He also was just as ambitious. His dreams of dragging Harry Potter before Lord Voldemort was why he crept about Islington, as he knew the boy hid amongst Muggles.
He wished to be lauded, and thus far, he was nothing more than an errand boy, which did not suit him in the least. His thick black hair blended in with the darkness, which provided him with ample cover as the moon glistened off his long strands. His black eyes narrowed and his yellow teeth shone as he quickly followed the Troublemaker.
Selwyn landed in the midst of a graveyard, which startled him slightly. He hadn't expected Harry Potter to visit the dead while on a reconnaissance mission, but the boy was known for his impulsive behaviours. He squatted behind a headstone, sneering upon seeing Ariana and Kendra Dumbledore's names etched into the stone.
He suspected the Potter boy was paying tribute to his parents, and it truly was the perfect time to strike. He leapt to his feet, and carefully maintained his composure. He couldn't afford to lose the boy now. His glorious future flickered across his mind's eye, and Selwyn bared his jagged yellow teeth in triumph.
"Stupefy!" Selwyn spat the spell, pleased to see the ginger comrade crash into the dilapidated iron fencing.
He hadn't expected Harry Potter's speed. He assumed the boy would fire off his customary Expelliarmus, and Selwyn would simply Stun him. Instead, the Potter bastard dove for his mate, and Disapparated with a crack.
The tall, lithe, Death Eater gave chase, but Harry had learned his lesson. He took Ron to Hogsmeade, as he knew from experience, the magical signatures of Death Eaters would disguise their travel. He didn't stay long, he couldn't risk it, but he also couldn't take the chance of the Death Eater following them to Grimmauld Place.
"Stupid! So fucking stupid!" Harry Potter berated himself, while he rifled through his rucksack for Potions to aid Ron.
"Little Whinging." Ron wheezed as he clutched his cracked ribs, knowing Harry was desperate to alter their current location.
Ron knew he wasn't up for another Side-Along, but he also knew their options were limited. They bloody well couldn't dawdle about in Hogsmeade, unless they wished to be captured. He gritted his teeth, and gave Harry a tight nod, and stifled a groan as the sensation squeezed his innards while they were whisked away.
"What made you think of here?" Harry curiously asked after he had poured a few Potions down Ron's obstinate throat.
"Well, I suppose I thought it would be empty, and it would be loads better than staying in a mouldy tent in the forest again." Ron smiled sleepily, and Harry was astounded.
He had nearly panicked, especially after Ron had been struck by that bloody Stunning Spell. It caused him to recall his last venture to Godric's Hollow with Hermione, and it left a bad taste in his mouth.
Rather than reflect upon his errors in judgement, Harry Potter curled into the fetal position and slept in his own room at number 4, Privet Drive, and Ron was quick to follow. While the beds weren't particularly comfortable, and the house held a musty unused sort of odour, Harry believed it was still better than his abandoned cupboard beneath the stairs.
In the morning, they scavenged through the kitchen cupboards and rustled up a poor excuse for a breakfast, but it was better than nothing. They ate in relative silence, while their thoughts mirrored the other. They were completely lost with Hermione.
"I'm in love with your sister," Harry confessed quietly while he sipped the worst cup of tea he'd ever had the displeasure of drinking.
"Harry, any idiot knows that by now. D'ya really think me that stupid? I know exactly what you lot are doing every time I visit the Burrow. You best marry her, or I'll have to chop off your cock." Ron winked, and while the imagery of Ron coming anywhere near his man parts was disconcerting, Harry relaxed. It was the Weasley stamp of approval if there ever was one, and that was good enough for him.
"We've got to go back. We've got to speak to Hermione, which we should have done before we ran off like idiots. She's going to shout at us a bit, but, that's what Hermione does." Harry shook his head at his stubborn stupidity and nearly deadly error.
"Yeah, she shouts and goes to the library." Ron pushed away his thick, slimy bowl of porridge and shuddered.
"Are you up to it?" Harry gestured toward the freckled forearm wrapped tightly around Ron's midsection, but his mate nodded.
"It's not safe out here. I know we've got to stop Him, but we've got to be smart about it. If there is a last horcrux, we need to ask Hermione. She'll have a general idea at least, and well, I trust you Harry, but I'm not fond of being attacked by Death Eaters." Ron dumped his bowl into the sink and hoisted his bag over his shoulder.
When they returned to Grimmauld Place, empty-handed and slightly defeated, their conditions worsened upon learning Hermione Granger was gone.
The Order of the Phoenix was quite busy these days. They were holding secret meetings, which weren't anything new, but these particular groupings were devoid of Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. The Order didn't trust them, not any longer. How could they, really?
Kingsley Shacklebolt had been the first to voice his concerns, but it wasn't as if they were unwarranted. It had been foolish of the so-called Chosen One to vacate Grimmauld Place without the slightest trace of a plan of action. The last thing the Minister for Magic wished was to argue with the boy again. Harry Potter did have quite the temper, but his passion was admirable.
While Arthur Weasley suggested the boys recover at the Burrow from their excursion, Kingsley jumped on the opportunity. It wasn't particularly difficult to hide his excitement. Harry and Ron were distracted by news of Hermione's disappearance.
"They're settled." Arthur Weasley shuffled nervously into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place and sat near the head of the well-worn table.
"Is there a proper plan in place?" Kingsley dropped his square blue hat onto the table and fingered the black tassel before he sat across from Arthur.
"Of course there is a proper plan in place. You do realise you're speaking about Hermione Granger? I don't know how that girl manages to get anything done with all her plotting and planning. I'm exhausted from simply listening to her." Narcissa Malfoy offered tea service with a slight frown. "I have this."
A small, leather bound, fraying, brown notebook was set on the corner of the kitchen table. The edges were frayed, the leather was littered with the oily remains of fingerprints, but that wasn't the most important part. In the corner, in tight little golden letters, it said 'Hermione J. Granger'.
"I don't understand." Arthur looked at Narcissa, but she was ignoring his probing gaze.
"You're not meant to understand...yet." She finally spoke between her teeth, and Arthur knew to remain silent if he wished to glean the slightest bit of information.
The air between the witch and wizards was filled with melancholy, more than anything else. Kingsley wasn't particularly looking forward to explaining this messy business to Arthur Weasley, but his hands were tied. Arthur was Hermione's de facto father, and as such he had a right to know the dangers she faced.
Arthur untied the twine wrapped about the book and took a deep breath as he lovingly caressed the sunken gold letters. He didn't want to open it. He didn't want to see Hermione Granger's careful penmanship, with her tiny letters and intricate explanations. He didn't really wish to know what she was doing, what she had done, but they were waiting for him, he realised.
'If you're reading this, I'm already gone, obviously. There are so many things I need to tell you, so many things I should have said, but it's too late to wax poetic now. What's done is done.
'Within these pages, through months upon months of careful research and reconnaissance, you will discover the secrets to defeating Voldemort. It really wasn't that difficult once I received a few bits of pertinent information.
'It's up to you now. You'll be the ones to inform Harry Potter what needs to be done. He'll hate every minute of it. He relies on me too heavily. This isn't my fight. It's my war. It's everyone's war, but in the end, it's Harry. He's the one that will end this, but he can't do it alone. Help him find the last horcrux, otherwise, we're all doomed.'
While Arthur Weasley was reading the immaculate handwriting on small, damaged pages, Hermione Granger was running. She wasn't carefully contemplating her spells and concentrating on striking true. She was weaving between the trees, ducking behind boulders, and falling into the thick underbrush. She was haphazardly tossing jinxes and hexes over her shoulder, unable to keep the heavy hood of her cloak over her head.
Hermione couldn't decide if her disguise was a blessing or a curse. The Death Eaters pursuing her weren't exactly aiming for her death, but she knew if she were captured, the end result would be the same. She didn't have time to Apparate. She couldn't run and centre her thoughts for precision at the same time. She was panicking, and that was a death warrant at this stage of the game.
"Don't kill her! I need a new toy!"
Hermione's blood ran cold. She knew that voice. She knew that cackle. She lost her footing and sprawled into the thick blanket of crunchy dead leaves strewn along the forest floor.
She couldn't even remember where she was any longer, let alone think of a place filled with safety. She was on her own, and she was failing. Hermione Granger detested to fail. She would rather face death than failure, and yet, she was suddenly facing both.
The sight of a formidable dwelling in the distance aided in clearing her head. The brisk air hurt her chest as she sucked in her breaths. Hermione hid, using the leaves to camouflage her position, and she managed to catch her breath for a moment.
"Malfoy Manor. I'm nearly there. I'm going to get caught. If I can just breach the wards, perhaps I've got a chance…"
Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy boots near her position. She must have closed her eyes for a little too long, her exhaustion finally catching up with her. The rough bark of the tree scraped against her cheek, drawing blood as she silently slid against the dry, brittle wood.
Hermione controlled her breathing while mentally reciting excerpts from Hogwarts: A History. She knew if Harry and Ron were travelling with her, they would have mocked her techniques, but she couldn't think about them. They were closing in on her. She had to run.
The small, inept group of Death Eaters quickly lost the trail of their prey, but Bellatrix Lestrange wasn't an ordinary Death Eater. She was exceptional, and also terrifying. She drew joy from striking fear in those that dared to defy her, those that she considered less than herself, and there were many.
Her wild ebony hair nearly stood on end, while her volatile magic crackled in the air. Her ripped, black lace dress dragged on the ground behind her, as she chased the skittish rabbit in the wood. Bellatrix knew her Lord would not be terribly pleased with her actions, but there were moments when she believed it to be better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.
Lord Voldemort didn't understand, nor did he wish to understand her incessant need for playthings. His desire was to rebuild his dynasty, and while he was a dedicated believer in torture and punishments, there was a method to his madness. Bellatrix simply did as she liked, and he disliked her inability to be properly tamed.
She covered her blue lips with both hands and scrunched her nose in delight. Her little rabbit was leaning into an old, decrepit tree, and Bellatrix smiled widely as she saw the streak of blood on the young cheek. If she hadn't been wary of spooking her rabbit, Bellatrix would have cackled into the frigid air.
Instead, she cast a simple Charm, which muffled the sounds of her footsteps in the fallen leaves. She held her breath, even as her long fingers hovered in the air near her prey's shoulder. Bellatrix squeezed the shoulder hard, drawing a strangled scream from her rabbit, even as it struggled.
Bellatrix jabbed her wand into the girl's throat, her dark eyes daring her prisoner to move. She had to give the girl credit, at least she thought it was a girl. Bellatrix wrenched the heavy hood off her head and crinkled her nose in distaste to see her latest acquisition was nearly bald.
"It's not often my prey dares to stare me in the eye. I can respect that my little Muggle."
"I'm not a Muggle." Hermione Granger instantly spat, though she regretted it nearly as quickly.
"Perhaps you are, and perhaps you're not. It doesn't matter, not really. You're mine now, and I wish to play."
Bellatrix slapped the girl, hard on the cheek and smiled. Her prisoner shivered, but she was still gripping her wand, inching it upward, and that would never do. Bellatrix snatched it from the girl's cold, frozen fingers, and tossed it over her shoulder.
There was something incredibly satisfying in hearing the girl's wand bounce off a nearby tree. It pleased her even more to see the subtle slump to the girl's shoulders. Bellatrix felt as though she had won.
"You could let me go." Hermione offered, quite lamely.
"What would be the fun in that? I've got amuse myself somehow, and you look entertaining." Bellatrix adjusted her grip and squeezed the back of her prisoner's neck, until the girl gasped. "I've always wanted a dog. Do you suppose if I put a collar on you, you could bark for me? You haven't got a speck of hair, which is disappointing. The last one was a blonde, and she wasn't inclined to play. She's dead now, but you'll do better won't you?"
Hermione Granger stood tall, despite her current circumstances. The light snow on the ground was seeping into her boots, completely drenching her already frozen toes, but she refused to bend. She still had a job to do, and Hermione Granger did not fail.