My beta-readers, fredfred and InquisitorCOC, deserve a huge thank you. They helped a lot.
Chapter 33: The Recovery
Black Lake, Scotland, November 16th, 2005
Relief filled Ron, and he had to struggle not to close his eyes and let himself rest. Reinforcements had arrived. They were saved. Saved at the last minute.
"I must say that's indeed quite fortunate," Dumbledore commented with a smile that was, perhaps, a little wider than his usual one.
"Yes! Yes! Thank God!" Ginny, of course, was far less restrained. Ron saw his sister kissing Harry and hugging him hard enough to reopen his wounds. Probably. Not that Harry seemed to mind. And Luna was beaming while Sirius… the man was baring his teeth in an almost feral grin, but he hadn't dropped his machine gun, yet. Meanwhile, the other wounded were cheering or at least making a good attempt at it.
But… "Hermione?" Ron asked.
"She's still… busy," Luna answered, biting her lower lip as she glanced down, towards the entrance to the lab.
Oh. Of course. The ritual wasn't finished yet. She could still… Ron slowly stood and started to descend the flight of stairs leading to the laboratory.
Half a minute later, he stepped into her lab. She was still chanting, and he couldn't tell if she had noticed his entrance. Then he saw her eyes darting towards him, followed by a frown.
He shrugged and sat down on his bench. And ignored her pointed glance at the door. He knew this was dangerous, but he wanted to be there with her. No matter what.
And someone had to guard the door and prevent anyone from disrupting the ritual. Just in case the others outside failed to do so. Well, it was a decent excuse, anyway. He closed his eyes for a moment.
Ron woke up in the middle of a storm. Wind was pushing against him, strong enough to push him off-balance, hitting him with shredded paper and other small debris. A roaring noise filled his ears - he could barely hear himself call out: "Hermione?"
There she was. In the middle of the circle, standing while the air flowed, rushed, around her, whipping her hair about and tearing at her clothes. It looked as if the only reason that she hadn't been swept away was that the air was hitting her and pulling at her from every direction at once, even though that was absurd.
But it was magic. Even inside the storm, there was this tingling feeling, and small flashes of light were lighting up all over the place but were focused on Hermione. Not light, lightning.
Hell, lightning was running up and down her body!
Ron stood and almost fell, stumbling several feet to the side as the wind raged against him. But he clenched his teeth and pushed back, focusing on Hermione. He had to reach her. No matter what. Step by step, he pushed forward, forcing himself through the storm. Paper hit him in the face, leaving cuts. A pencil hit his broken vest hard enough to remain stuck, like a dart. But he kept going. The storm grew more powerful, as if it was focusing on him, wanting to drive him back. Perhaps it did.
He didn't care. All he cared about was her. Reaching her. Step by step, he marched on. Fought his way onwards. A few more yards. The gale pushed him back, one, two steps, until he found his balance. He gritted his teeth and continued, one hand shielding his eyes and face from debris. He didn't need to see, anyway - he knew the way.
One more step took him into the circle, but he couldn't tell the difference. He didn't even notice until he caught a glimpse of smeared runes - the candles and bowls had been blown away, smashed some time ago. Another step. One more. All the magic in the world wouldn't stop him. He wouldn't let it.
Another step, another stumble. A shard from a broken bowl bounced off his vest and sliced his cheek. He didn't care. There she was. Still standing. Battered - he could see the cuts and bruises on her face. She managed to turn her head, open her eyes a little and look at him right before he embraced her.
And held her while the storm beat and raged at them.
He didn't know how much time had passed before the storm finally started to weaken, the roaring noise fading until he could hear her voice.
"Ron, you fool!"
He was still laughing, still holding her, when Harry and the others entered the lab.
"You could've been killed!" Five minutes later, their cuts and bruises having been treated with a few bandages and a little magical ointment, she was glaring at him.
"So could you," he replied, smiling. He didn't mind Hermione being angry at him. They were alive. As were their friends.
"Yes, but that was inevitable. You put yourself at risk. Deliberately. And for what? To die with me, if things went wrong?"
"To save you, if you got hurt," he replied. It wasn't a lie. Not really.
"And what if you got hurt?"
He shrugged. "If things went really wrong, would I have been safe outside the laboratory?"
She pressed her lips together instead of answering. Which answered his question anyway. "The risk inside was higher. Significantly higher."
"For both of us," he pointed out.
"I hate to interrupt, but we've got more important problems than deciding who between the two of you is the more stubborn fool," Harry interrupted them.
Ron looked at his friend. "What?"
Harry grimaced, and Luna spoke up before he could say anything. "The government's jackboots arrived with the reinforcements."
"MI5 is here," Harry said. "And they don't seem happy with Dumbledore."
"Oh." That would complicate things. A lot. He glanced at the door.
"Dumbledore's stalling them, but that won't last," Sirius told them.
Hermione gasped. "My data!" She whirled and ran towards her desk, which had toppled over during the ritual's end.
"Didn't you back it up?" Luna asked.
"I did. The hard drives are safe in my bag. But I want to wipe the computers here," Hermione replied. "I don't think the storm was strong enough to destroy their physical storage."
"Storm?" Ginny - and Harry - asked.
Ron ignored them and joined Hermione at her desk, picking up a keyboard on the way - then another that wasn't broken.
"Just take the hard drives out," Luna told them.
"I'm planning to," Hermione replied. "But I need to be sure that there is nothing buffered, either."
"Blow the whole thing up?" Sirius replied.
Ron didn't realise until he was stuffing more hard disks into Hermione's bag that he was tampering with a crime scene and concealing evidence. He snorted - he didn't care. This was the right thing to do. And MI5 weren't the police, anyway.
"Where are the drives?" Mr Atkinson, the apparent leader of the MI5 team, asked with narrowed eyes. Ron was impressed - slightly. The middle-aged man had barely taken a glance at the ripped open computer cases on the floor after entering the laboratory before he addressed them. He hadn't even waited for the rest of his men to go over the computers.
"When it seemed as if the attackers were about to overwhelm us, Dr Granger chose to deny them her research data," Dumbledore, who had come with Atkinson, replied. "A drastic but, under the circumstances, entirely appropriate decision, wouldn't you agree, Nigel?"
Apparently, the man wasn't as fond of Dumbledore as Dumbledore presumed to be of him since he scowled at the old man. "And where are the backups?"
"Safe," Luna said with a smile.
Atkinson glared at her, then turned to Dumbledore. "You're working with the likes of her these days?"
Dumbledore's smile never wavered. "I've found Miss Lovegood to be a very smart and courageous young woman. If all my operatives had been of a similar calibre, I dare say that a few of my operations would have turned out differently."
Atkinson scoffed. "Things have changed since you retired."
"Things are always changing. Yet, in many ways, they stay the same," Dumbledore told him, slowly inclining his head. Ron was sure that the old spymaster would have folded his hands, had he been seated.
"I think you are as aware as I am that an invasion of Britain by Russian troops is unprecedented," Atkinson shot back.
"An invasion? Hardly. A few dozen men, at most," Dumbledore retorted. "Unless Her Majesty's forces have been cut back far more than was publicly announced, that cannot be called an invasion."
"And another dozen at that fake site you had us guard. Upstairs is not amused. And neither is the Prime Minister, I'd wager. No one likes it when you try to play your old games."
"Games?" Dumbledore sounded honestly shocked. "I informed you of an imminent attack by unknown forces on one of the Phoenix Gruppe's research sites and cooperated fully with the authorities."
"And neglected to inform us that the research site was a decoy." Atkinson shook his head. "That's not cricket, old bean," he added with heavy sarcasm.
"If I had expected an attack on this site, I certainly wouldn't have been present myself, would I?" Dumbledore shot back. "I know that I have a bit of a reputation in certain circles, but I'm not omniscient."
"Enough. What are you researching here that someone would go to such lengths in attempting to acquire it? And don't try to tell me that this was aimed at you. Dr Granger's been a person of interest for months now."
Uh oh. Ron glanced at Hermione, though she seemed utterly focused on the man.
"Although I do not doubt that the… scale of this attack is at least partially a consequence of your unauthorised little adventure on Russian soil a few weeks ago," Atkinson went on.
Dumbledore cocked his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said with such an earnest tone and expression that Ron would have believed him - if he hadn't been on said mission. And if he didn't know Dumbledore.
But Atkinson obviously knew the old man as well. "Enough with the lies!" he snapped. "It's not the Cold War any more - not that you don't seem to have tried your best to revive that conflict."
"I can assure you that the only thing I've done was stop the attacks on Dr Granger - something that certainly is in the country's interest," Dumbledore replied, seemingly unflappable.
"You're no longer the head of MI6. You're a private citizen. And no matter how wealthy you are, you neither set nor enact the foreign policy of Her Majesty's Government!"
"Why not? Mr Dumbledore's money certainly would be sufficient," Luna asked. "Or do you mean that he didn't bribe the government, as would have been proper procedure?"
"What?" Atkinson turned towards her. "Are you insinuating that Her Majesty's Government is corrupt?"
"Of course not!" She shook her head. "That would be silly - why would I insinuate such a well-established fact?"
Ron managed to avoid laughing out loud at Atkinson's expression. Sirius didn't.
Atkinson clenched his teeth and glared at all of them. "Do you think this is some sort of joke?"
"No," Dumbledore spoke up again. "We're all aware of the gravity of the situation. Miss Lovegood was completely serious. We managed to identify the man behind the attacks on Dr Granger a while ago, and I have no doubt that he is behind this latest attack as well. Just as I'm quite certain that President Putin will confirm that."
"You've found a scapegoat, you mean."
The old man spread his hands. "A private Russian citizen with ties to organised crime, sending out mercenaries and criminals to do his bidding. Probably with ties to terrorists as well."
Atkinson snorted. "Are you offering to serve in a similar role?"
"I think that Her Majesty's Government will find that on our side, this truly is a case of self-defence," Dumbledore replied.
"You were defending yourself all the way to Russia?"
"Private investigators came under attack by locals and were forced to defend themselves." Dumbledore smiled at the other man.
"That won't work. Not this time," Atkinson said. "You aren't the head of MI6 any more. You're expendable."
"You'll find that a number of influential people disagree with your assessment," Dumbledore retorted, still smiling as if they were discussing sports - or dessert, in his case. Instead of his possible incarceration on, well, not entirely false charges. Which, Ron reminded himself, included himself and all his friends.
"You think you know enough of the current government's dirty laundry to escape any consequences." Atkinson's expression made it a statement, not a question. He glanced at Hermione. "Or you think her research will convince the government to overlook your actions."
"That would be a welcome change from struggling for funding," Hermione said with a sneer of her own.
This time Ron chuckled as well.
"And what exactly are you researching?" Atkinson made a point of looking around the ruined room. "No one cares enough about theoretical quantum physics to violate the territorial integrity of the United Kingdom. What are you building here?"
Instead of telling him off, Hermione glanced at Dumbledore.
Atkinson noticed that as well and narrowed his eyes. "I can have all of you arrested."
He was correct, of course - there was more than enough evidence to take in everyone alive on the grounds. And if they dug around a little...
"A way to expand space," Dumbledore said. "Or fold it, from a different point of view."
"What?"
Oh. The test ritual Hermione had done - which had extended the laboratory's dimensions for a moment.
"A way to stretch the space inside a container beyond its outward dimensions," Hermione said. "Expanding the interior volume without expanding the container's dimensions, or mass, to be precise."
"Do you expect me to believe that?" Atkinson sneered.
"Do you expect me to make such an extraordinary claim if I couldn't prove it?" Dumbledore shot back. With a glance at the destruction around them, he added: "Well, once the laboratory has been restored, that is. Which will take a while, I fear."
"Are you serious?"
"Dozens of people have died over this," Dumbledore told him. "Many of them were people I knew. Yes, I'm serious."
Ron clenched his teeth. Dozens dead - and he had been happy that his friends had lived.
Black Lake, Scotland, November 18th, 2005
Ron looked around, shaking his head. Two days after the assault, Hermione's laboratory had been mostly restored. Well, to the point that it was functional. The walls and the floor still sported the scars from the failed ritual - scratches and gouges. And some of the furniture had been replaced by far cruder versions - the desk was just a wooden plank placed across two pedestals. But the computers were new, as were the power cables. And the generators in the laboratory had been dinged, but still worked fine - they had tested them. The generators in the garage were a total loss, of course. As was the garage.
But compared to the rest of the building, the laboratory looked fine. The only thing missing was the ritual circle. And, he thought with a glance at the two soldiers standing guard at the entrance, where he used to sit, there's a good reason for that.
Performing a magic ritual would be a little too much for the forces of Her Majesty's Government who had stepped in to 'protect' the research site.
"Can you hand me the printouts?"
He jerked at Hermione's question, then nodded. "Sure." He bent down and grabbed the stack of paper from the printer. "It's not a real scientist's desk until it's covered by paper, hm?"
She pouted at his grin, but she was amused. A little, at least - he could tell. "They are less dangerous when thrown around by a failed experiment than computers," she said, a little too loudly.
The guards at the door didn't even flinch, though. They didn't wear unit patches, so it was hard to tell, but Ron didn't think they were SAS. Yet he was sure that they weren't regular soldiers, either.
For all of Dumbledore's vaunted influence and promises, MI5 had taken control of the site and didn't seem to be planning to relinquish it any time soon. Well, they were supposed to do something about that with their current project.
Provided it worked, of course. And that would require some sleight of hand.
He chuckled, startling Hermione. When she frowned at him, he shook his head. "Just a stray thought."
She narrowed her eyes. "Yes?"
"Well…" he lowered his voice and leaned closer, hoping that the soldiers would think he was merely flirting. "If this works, you'll be a veritable stage magician!"
She gaped at him. "Oh, you!" Then she started to laugh as well.
Good.
Black Lake, Scotland, November 18th, 2005
"Can you pass me that one? No, the other one, the curry, yes!" Luna beamed at Ron as he handed her the MRE she had pointed out. "Yummy!"
"You're about the only one who might actually like these," Harry commented, already waiting for his own to finish heating up.
"They're not as bad as soldiers make them out to be," Sirius pointed out. "Soldiers always complain about the food. You could serve them a five-course menu cooked by the best chef in England, and they'd still complain."
"Why aren't you complaining, then?" Luna asked. "You're a soldier, too."
"What? Perish the thought! I'm an officer!" Sirius protested before he laughed out loud.
A little too loudly, in Ron's opinion. Just as Ginny was too quiet. He glanced at her while she was distracted by opening her own ration. The attack hadn't been her first fight, but it was the first time she had killed someone. And it had been up close and personal, not from a distance. She wouldn't get over that experience easily or quickly. And he wouldn't be able to help much, if at all, just like before.
"Ron?"
Hermione was looking at him like he had probably been looking at Ginny. "It's nothing," he lied. "Just thinking of everything that's changed."
"Ah." She glanced at Ginny as well. Of course she would be aware of it - she had talked to Ginny and Luna about it before, after all.
He looked at Luna, who acted like nothing had changed. Emphasis on 'acted' - he could tell. He didn't know if she had killed anyone, or, if she had, whether she had realised it or not, but she hadn't come through the whole ordeal unscathed, either.
And he couldn't help her. Just as he hadn't been able to protect them from this.
Damn.
"Your ration's done," he heard Hermione tell him.
"Ah, yes. Thank you." He smiled at her, and she patted his thigh before they both focused on eating.
"It's like a camping trip, only indoors," Luna broke the sudden silence. "All we need are tents and a campfire." She looked around.
"Please don't light a fire in my lab," Hermione said, though with a smile. "I still need to clean the floor."
So she could replace the ritual circle. Once they had regained control of the site, of course.
"Aw." Luna pouted, but not for long. "What about tents? Without putting holes into the floor," she quickly added.
Ron nodded. A little privacy would be nice - they had spent two nights in Hermione's lab already, in sleeping bags. Restoring their quarters so they were inhabitable again would take longer than fixing the lab.
The Russians' attack had been quite thorough.
Black Lake, Scotland, November 20th, 2005
"Take a seat, and please excuse the state of the room - we're still repairing the damage caused by the recent assault." Dumbledore beamed at the group of men and women entering the laboratory and waved at the two benches lining the wall near the door. "It won't take long since this is just a demonstration."
"A safe demonstration, I hope," one of the older men among the group said, with a glance at Hermione, Ron noticed.
She sneered at the man in return. "Of course they'd send Waters-Smythe. Damned sexist fossil," she muttered.
"Fellow academic?" Ron asked.
"Only in the broadest sense," she replied. "Ever since I got a grant for which he'd applied, our relationship would be best described as one of mutual loathing. He spent months telling everyone in the faculty that I'd only received it because of my 'tragic past'. Bloody pillock."
"Ah. Don't turn him into a newt, please," he joked.
She laughed in return. "I won't. Seeing his reaction to my demonstration will be much more satisfying."
He wanted to ask if she could actually use a ritual to turn - transfigure - the man into a newt, but decided against it and took a few steps back.
It wouldn't do to hold up the demonstration. Dumbledore was smiling at them - well, at Hermione - but Grindelwald still seemed to blame them for Dumbledore almost getting killed by Russians.
Russian criminals, according to Putin's press conference. All former soldiers with ties to the Russian mob. Technically correct, of course - though everyone knew that they had been following orders from the Russian government. 'Probably related to similar criminal attacks on Russian soil, a veritable gang war'. 'Fortunately' the Russian criminal instigating this had been found. 'Unfortunately', he had died in a firefight with the brave Russian police and so they hadn't been able to arrest the man. And none of the prisoners had talked, at least as far as Ron knew. Putin had picked them well. It remained to be seen whether or not the government would accept the lie, but Ron wasn't expecting anything other than a few sanctions being levied on some of Putin's pals, anyway. If they could use Veritaserum… but drugging prisoners wouldn't do them any good, even if they were willing to have the government open that can of worms.
At least Kirikov was dead, provided the DNA checked out. Ron wouldn't put it past Putin to kill a body double of his old comrade to present to the British authorities. The man certainly had been prepared for the failure of the attack.
Hermione stepped forward, interrupting his thoughts. "Good afternoon!" she announced. "Welcome to this small demonstration of my space folding prototype. It's just a prototype, requiring a lot of power to produce a quite limited effect, but I'm certain that once you see the results, you will realise its potential."
And let her continue her research in private. Or so Dumbledore's plan went.
Provided they could fool their visitors with this.
Waters-Smythe sneered. "If I had a quid for every time I'd heard the claim that something had 'great potential'…"
Ron saw Hermione stiffen before she flashed the old man a thin smile. "I'll let my work speak for itself. Now watch - and don't move from the benches, please; the area near the prototype isn't safe."
"But we're safe here?" the old man asked. Ron noted that he actually seemed to be concerned.
"Perfectly safe." Hermione smiled again, showing her teeth, then turned towards her computer.
Ron joined the others at the benches, to keep up appearances. Soon, a humming noise could be heard coming from the generators, slowly increasing in volume.
One of the men in the group, a Mr Roberts, apparently a former MI5 field agent, leaned forward and looked at him. "Are you her bodyguard?"
His tone added another meaning to his question, but Ron nodded. "Yes." His smile was a little toothy, though - he couldn't help it. So what if he and Hermione were together?
"Isn't that against regulations?" Mrs Baker, an MP with 'some influence in the government', as Dumbledore had described her, asked with raised eyebrows.
"That won't be a problem," he told her.
"Oh?"
"Yes." He leaned back. "It's starting," he told the group.
All of them, even Waters-Smythe, though the old man tried to hide his interest, began to pay attention to the demonstration.
It was quite a sight. The quantum mirror cage was lit up by sparks, lots of lights flashed around the box placed in the centre, and the generators were running at full power - Ron could feel the vibrations even this far away. Though the whining noise from the box soon drowned out the rest.
Before it became too loud to bear, though, the sparks vanished, and Hermione stood and announced. "The box is now charged, and the space inside it has been folded - extended, in this case." She grabbed a ten-foot-pole from her desk and approached the box. "That means the box has a far greater volume than its dimensions would lead you to expect." With these words, she opened the box and pushed the pole inside. The entire pole slid into the box.
"A parlour trick," Waters-Smythe sneered. "Next you'll demand we fund Copperfield!"
"Feel free to try it out yourself," Hermione retorted. "This is not a trick but actual folded space. Anything that will fit through the opening here will fit inside the box."
Waters-Smythe sneered and all but jumped up, his earlier apprehension about the experiment apparently having been replaced by an eagerness to prove Hermione a fraud. He quickly walked over to the quantum mirror cage and started to run his hands over the box.
"As you can see, there are no mirrors," Hermione explained as the rest of the group followed the old man's example. Various items were placed inside - some smaller than the box, some far too large. All vanished into the box.
"Remarkable," Baker said. "But how much energy does this effect require?"
The number she gave made Baker frown. "That's the power demand at this point. But I expect to improve on that," Hermione added, followed by a short lecture on quantum mechanics that Ron couldn't quite follow.
"However, even as it works now, this would be quite the boon for naval vessels. Imagine a submarine with such folded space for their magazines," Dumbledore pointed out. "Or the cargo capacity of a small, fast ship."
"As I said," Hermione added with a wide, triumphant smile aimed at Waters-Smythe, "I'm sure you appreciate the potential."
The old man looked like he'd rather bite his tongue off than agree, but the rest of the group nodded.
It looked like this part of Dumbledore's plan had worked. Now it was up to the old spymaster to complete the second part.
Ron would help Hermione retrieve her beaded bag of holding from the box and restock it with all the supplies currently stashed in their new quarters.
After their visitors had left, of course.
Ron looked up from his magazine as Hermione entered their mostly restored room. "Hey," he greeted her - rather lamely, but he wasn't about to ask how her talk with Ginny and Luna had gone. Even though he wanted to know how they were doing. But it was late already, and they hadn't had much time for themselves.
"Hey." She returned his greeting with a smile and a sigh as she sat down on their bed. Then she blinked. "Popular Mechanics?"
He shrugged. "Luna managed to acquire a stack of recent magazines. Don't ask me how."
"She and Ginny got them from the delegation," Hermione told him.
"Ah." That left a lot of details open to interpretation. Ron didn't think Ginny or Luna would stoop to outright theft - well, he wouldn't dismiss the possibility either - but perhaps they had simply asked for the magazines, playing for sympathy. The two had certainly been able to do that very well as kids.
She sighed again and stretched out next to him. After a little wriggling, she patted the mattress. "It's a little lumpy."
"It's better than the cots," he pointed out.
"Marginally," she insisted.
"An improvement is an improvement." And they had a lot more privacy here in the room. "Do you think Dumbledore will manage to keep your experiments going without interference?"
"I made it quite clear that I wouldn't accept getting moved - or 'reassigned' - against my will," she said with a scoff. "Some of them didn't like that."
So that had been the purpose of her meeting after dinner. "Waters-Smythe?"
"Among others. He wasn't the only 'Old Boy' in the group."
He shrugged. "Technically, so is Dumbledore."
"I'm well aware of that," she retorted with a frown.
"Sorry."
She sighed again. "I just get a little annoyed when people think they can just order me around. Dumbledore is at least always polite and subtle about getting his way."
Too subtle and too polite for Ron's taste. But she probably still saw her Dumbledore in the old spymaster. "So, all we can do now is wait?"
"And rebuild," she replied. "The further along things are here, the less likely anyone wanting to move me is to succeed."
He nodded. That was an old ploy. Not an infallible one, though - sometimes, the sunk costs were ignored by whoever was in charge. "More work, then," he said with an exaggerated sigh of his own.
"It's mostly work for Dumbledore's people," she replied. "Unless you want to engage in home repair."
"No, thanks." Just checking the repairs for hidden surveillance devices, or worse things, was work enough.
"There's one bit of good news, though." She was smiling widely, he noted.
"Oh?"
"The rushed attempt during the assault greatly accelerated the experiment's progress," she explained. "I managed to refine the formula in several key places."
Now that was good news. He smiled at her, then rolled over on to his side and put an arm around her, pulling her close. She laughed, then pushed him back down before moving on top of him.
For a moment, they looked at each other, smiling. Then he kissed her.
And tried to push his fears about the consequences for their relationship of an open portal to her home dimension out of his mind.
Black Lake, Scotland, November 25th, 2005
"They're letting the Russians get away with it?" Ginny exclaimed, throwing the newspaper she had been reading down on the table, almost smashing her lunch. "Despite all the evidence? The prisoners? All the people they killed?"
"They've expelled a few suspected agents among the Russian embassy staff," Sirius corrected her. "And they've sent Putin a strongly worded complaint while asking our stalwart allies for sanctions." He grinned without humour. "In other words, they've asked the Yanks and the EU to leave us hanging out to dry while they desperately search for excuses to claim that there's reasonable doubt about the Russians' responsibility."
"What?" Ginny stared at him.
"No one wants to make the Russians too mad," the older man explained with a shrug. "They're not some weak third-world country you can push around. And our government probably doesn't want anyone to look closely at our own missions."
"Which is a good thing," Luna said. "Or they might try using us as scapegoats just like Putin used Kirikov."
Ron couldn't claim she was wrong. And their missions actually had been unauthorised ones, so the government would, in fact, be correct in their case.
Not that the law would matter, anyway. After Hermione's demonstration of her 'discovery', the British government would never consider sacrificing her.
Exactly as Dumbledore had planned, of course. Although Ron was almost happy that the old man hadn't managed to get rid of all government interference - the site was now guarded by the British Army and the Royal Air Force. They had even declared the airspace above the lake off-limits.
But as welcome as their protection was, Ron was also aware that the soldiers were here to guard them in both senses of the word. It wouldn't do for Hermione to suddenly end up in a secret lab of the Phoenix Gruppe in Germany or France, after all.
Well, there was nothing he could do about that. All he could do was help Hermione as well as he could. And hope Dumbledore managed to restore or replace the generators damaged in the fighting as soon as possible.
Black Lake, Scotland, December 21st, 2005
"You are worrying too much, Gellert. Dr Granger isn't in the habit of making promises she cannot keep."
"And you're not worrying enough. This is a dangerous experiment, even if it should - finally - succeed. In fact, success will result in greater danger than failure. And that's not taking the possibility of yet another attack into account. You are a tempting target, Albus."
"As are you. If you truly think that we're in danger, why are you attending this event? An attack would have a decent chance of decapitating the Phoenix Gruppe in a single stroke."
"Hah! Someone has to keep a cool head in this endeavour. Might as well be me."
"Indeed."
Ron rolled his eyes. He didn't know how much of that exchange was staged and how much was genuine, but he wished they would be quiet. He didn't need another distraction, not when, after a month of rebuilding the laboratory and refining the ritual, Hermione was about to open the portal to her home dimension. On the day of the Winter Solstice - but she claimed that that was merely a coincidence.
That Grindelwald was correct about the danger didn't help, either. In less than an hour, they might enter a world controlled by a genocidal regime of dark wizards. And they would appear right next to their main, or only, school - a key fortress, as Hermione had explained.
Damn. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, ignoring the two old men behind him and Hermione's chanting in front. They were ready for this. They had prepared for the worst case. As well as they could, at least.
Gritting his teeth, he looked at the others. They weren't wearing fatigues, but civilian clothes - fatigues would be too conspicuous if they encountered anyone, wizard or muggle. But they were wearing bulletproof vests under their sweaters. And carrying pistols and submachine guns under their jackets. And Hermione's beaded bag of holding was stuffed with enough supplies to both arm a small army and fight for years. Well, almost.
Yes, they were as ready as they could be. Physically, at least.
Ron wasn't sure whether he could face his counterpart. And Hermione's reaction. If the other Ron was dead… He shook his head. That was an evil, selfish thought. He was better than that. He had to be better than that.
Hermione started to enter the last phase of the ritual. About ten more minutes - Ron could probably do the chanting himself now, just from hearing it dozens of times. He glanced at his friends again.
Luna was smiling widely, tapping her feet and leaning forward as much as she could without losing her balance. Which had happened before, and was why they weren't too close to the ritual circle. Ginny was, no surprise there, hugging Harry. And Sirius was pretending to be reading a newspaper, and doing a bad job of it - he hadn't turned a page in fifteen minutes.
Perhaps bantering was Dumbledore and Grindelwald's way of coping with the waiting? That would make them more human than Ron would have expected. On the other hand, that might be exactly why they would stage such an exchange.
He snorted, wondering privately if he'd ever figure either of the old men out. Probably not.
"Ah, it's starting," he heard Dumbledore whisper behind him. "Are you sure you don't want to come with us?"
"Someone has to stay behind and ensure that you can return," Grindelwald replied, whispering as well.
The man was correct, of course, but the fact that he would be left in control of the site was a little worrying in itself.
Then Hermione whipped her arms down, finishing the ritual. After a moment that felt much longer, the restored generators started humming loudly enough for Ron to feel the vibrations.
Then the quantum mirror cage lit up, brighter than Ron had ever seen it.
And an opening began to form in its centre.
There was the Horcrux - as expected, Voldemort had used Ravenclaw's diadem. Another priceless relic of Wizarding Britain, ruined by one man's greed.
She eyed it, wishing there was a way to destroy the Horcrux without destroying the diadem. Who knew what kind of magic she might be able to do with the diadem? It was supposed to lend you superhuman insight. If she wore it, might it be possible for her to find a way to save it quickly enough to withstand the Horcrux's influence? It was certainly worth a try…
She suddenly realised that her hands were inches from the diadem and recoiled as if she had been struck.
That had been close! The Horcrux's influence was more subtle than she had expected. But she'd beaten it. And now she would destroy it. But she needed to get it out of the Room for that.
Wetting her lips, she pulled a small bag out of her beaded bag - there was no way she'd touch a Horcrux. A quick Levitation Charm on the diadem's mount had it floating into the bag.
She released the breath she had been holding as she tied the bag closed, shuddering at the thought of what she was carrying. Now she just had to…
"Reducto!"
The curse hit her Shield Charm before she could react, shattering it and throwing her into a stack of books. Death Eaters? How had they gotten past her friends?
"That's for Draco! Reducto! Reducto!"
More explosions shook the ground, but she was already crawling behind an old armoire and recasting her Shield Charm. She knew that voice! Crabbe! What was he doing here? And how had that oaf managed to beat Harry and Ron?
"Die, mudblood! Reducto! Reducto!"
No. He wouldn't have beaten her friends. He must have sneaked past them somehow. Perhaps a secret passage - who knew what the Room of Requirement could actually do?
Another explosion shook the room, but further behind her. She grinned, briefly - he didn't know where she was. Now she could turn the tables…
"Bombarda!"
A huge explosion threw her into the air, breaking her shield once more, and she screamed as she hit a row of shelves. Pain erupted in her arm - her wand arm - and she crashed on to the ground, rolling a few yards over dirt and debris.
No. Her arm. Her wand! Where was her wand? She looked around frantically, but the explosion had thrown up a lot of dust as well as creating smoke.
"Did you get her, Greg?"
"I think so, Vince."
Damn, both of them were here. And she had lost her wand. If they caught her… if they got their hands on the Horcrux… She clenched her teeth and dragged herself behind a broken table.
"Hey! Mudblood! If you come out, we'll make it quick!" Crabbe yelled.
"Don't make us hunt you down!" Goyle added.
She ignored them. She just had to hide until Harry and Ron returned. If only she hadn't given their last spare wands away… "Accio wand!" she whispered, but failed to summon her wand.
"Sod this! I'm not going to get ambushed in this maze!"
"Vince! No! You fool!"
What? Hermione froze. What had Crabbe done?
A horrible, familiar noise and a wave of heat answered her question. She gasped again - no, he wouldn't have…
But the greenish light that started to fill the room confirmed it. The fool had cast Fiendfyre!
"We need to get out! Vince!"
"I've got it! I've got iAAHHHHH..."
"Vince! NoAHHHH…"
At least they'd paid for their folly. But Hermione would be next - she had no wand and no way out. She was trapped here. She'd burn to death.
No. There had to be a way out. "Harry! Ron!" she screamed as she hurried away from the approaching fire. "Help!"
They couldn't hear her. And even if they could, they couldn't reach her. Apparition didn't work inside Hogwarts. If she had a broom… but she didn't.
She sobbed as she reached the wall. This was it. She would die here. With the Horcrux. She'd do what she had to.
But she didn't want to die. Not like this.
She looked around. Debris everywhere. And the Fiendfyre was approaching. Wait… she knew that cabinet. The twins had used it to trap a Slytherin bigot, once. It was a Vanishing Cabinet. Broken - but, as the twins had found out, sometimes it worked. No one knew where the other half was, exactly, but anything was better than burning to death.
She rushed over to it, screaming when she banged her arm on a broken chair, and opened it. "Work! Work! Work!" she mumbled, closing the door behind her.
It didn't.
She climbed out and tried again.
It didn't work. And the fire was closing.
Another attempt. No luck.
She could feel the heat now and coughed in the smoke. One last chance. Snarling, she threw the bag with the Horcrux into the fire and jumped into the cabinet…
Twisting.
Pulling.
Shrieking.
A glimpse of a living room.
A flash of light.
Falling.
… and then she hit the ground, hard, hissing as she cradled her broken arm.
Then she blinked. She was in the middle of a field. And the house she could see in the distance certainly wasn't Hogwarts.