Trigger warnings: n/a
"Come to Hogwarts. Room of Requirement. Now."
The stag hadn't fully faded before Ron's own Patronus erupted into being, far more vibrant this time. "Go to the Order. Tell them Harry's at Hogwarts and we're going," and the terrier bolted out the window.
"Come on, we have to go outside to apparate," urged Ron as he grabbed both witches by their elbows and pulled them to the door. "Got your wands?"
Hermione spluttered, "Ron! We can't go to Hogwarts!"
"Why the hell not?"
"How are we supposed to apparate anywhere near the grounds without alerting anyone?"
"Secret entrance. Come on, . Save time. Hurry up!"
Hermione stumbled down the steps, Narcissa close behind her, all her thoughts and feelings so jumbled up inside that she couldn't contrive any more reasons not to follow.
Hogsmeade felt different. Beautiful in the dawn light, yet so desolate and with such an air of terror that Hermione couldn't keep still.
Ron apparated them practically inside the Hog's Head, and Hermione wondered how much practice he'd had. It made her sad, or angry, that he'd returned to Hogwarts (or near enough) while she was imprisoned in cellars and flats, but there was hardly time to worry about that now.
Dumbledore had a brother. And wasn't that a funny thing. She desperately wanted to talk to him, and to understand how it came to be that the late headmaster had never deemed fit to mention his closest living relation who lived in the adjacent village.
But, no time. She was walking through a tunnel, her mind all full of incongruent memories of thirteen-year-old Harry sneaking to Honeydukes and the iron grip of Narcissa's hand in hers as they made their way through the damp darkness. The darkness crawled into her pores and stuck there, preventing looping images of Harry being murdered from escaping. His screams grew louder with each of her footsteps and Narcissa's hand spasmed, squeezing her bones harder; Hermione wondered if they shared thoughts now.
Then, all at once, her world exploded into bright light and the excited chatter of peoplevoices she recognised—and she was heartily crushed in the tight embrace of a young man.
Goodness, you've grown three , at least! was the only thought that filled her head for one blissfully simple moment, and Hermione nearly laughed at its absurdity.
"Glad to see you, Hermione!"
"Hermione!"
"Merlin, look who it is!"
"Is that Granger? Finally!"
Seamus Finnigan released her from his asphyxiating hug (odd, really—she couldn't recall him ever giving her anything more than a fraternal shoulder clap) and gave her a brilliant smile. He looked worn, and she noticed a handful of young scars on his face and neck, but the energy in his eyes looked almost crazed.
Actually, the whole room felt that way. She realised now that she stood in the Room of Requirement as it had been for Dumbledore's Army, except now it apparently served as a mock-dormitory: hammocks and pillows and clothes decorated walls and floors in some kind of remarkably functional chaos.
"'Bout twenty of us in staying here, give or take. Depends on the week. Aberforth sends food when we need it." He waggled his eyebrows at Hermione. "Personally, I think the castle is just as pissed as we are at how everything's being run 'round here."
Looking around in awe at the warmth and love she saw in this room, she thought she agreed. Sensation assaulted her from every dimension and her eyes slid out of focus. God, no way I could live here. I'd go mad in a day.
"Oi! Harry! They're here!"
Hermione spotted Harry's messy hair through the energetic clusters of students; he seemed to be making his way in their direction. The relief she felt at seeing him alive and well nearly made her cry; she fell into Seamus' hold a little while her body dissipated hours of terror. She noticed Seamus' grip on her bicep tighten as he looked over her shoulder with a hard expression.
Hermione's other arm bent awkwardly as Narcissa's grip on her hand turned vice-like, their sweaty skin sliding against each other. Hermione hadn't realised they'd yet to let go of each other.
Ron appeared at Hermione's side and clapped Seamus heartily on the . "Don't worry, mate. She's with us."
Seamus gave Narcissa an odd look but seemed satisfied. And then Harry was there, tugging them into a relatively private corner of the room, his green eyes bright as Hermione smacked his shoulder. Hard.
"You left us!"
"I'm sorry!"
"What were we supposed to think, Harry Potter?"
"I can explain!"
Hermione huffed and crossed her arms over her chest as Harry rubbed the spot she had swatted. Ron struggled to hold back a chuckle; Hermione gave him a glare for good measure.
"The doe came back. You remember? In the forest—the Patronus ?"
"You got out of bed and followed a strange Patronus by yourself in the middle of the night? In London?"
"Oi! It helped before!"
"It could have been a trap, Harry!"
"Yeah, well…" Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "It wasn't, alright? And I dunno… The form seemed significant, and it didn't, like, feel bad or anything. Actually, it felt pretty friendly. I can't really explain it." His eyes turned far away for a moment. "Anyway, I took my wand and the cloak, so I wasn't completely stupid. And, um… It was Snape."
"WHAT?"
"I know! Look, when I saw him, I was gonna turn around, but he knew I was there and he… I can't explain it, really. It's sort of like the Patronus, I s'pose. I just knew. Don't look at me like that, alright? He didn't even try to attack me or anything. Just… talked. And told me that—that You-Know-Who knows what we're doing. With the Horcruxes."
The air evaporated from Hermione's lungs.
"Is that why we are here, Potter?" asked Narcissa quietly, and, Hermione noted, with some emotion. "Did Severus give you the answers we need?"
Harry nodded. "He knows where the missing Horcux is and he's helping us get to it."
"But why?" Breathed Hermione.
"Why does he know? You-Know-Who is desperate, apparently. Told him how to find the thing and keep it safe. But instead, he's giving it to us. Don't ask me why," Harry interjected before Hermione could fully open her mouth. "I'm not entirely sure, really. I think you were right about him being some kind of… defector, or something. I dunno, I can't explain it, really. Too complicated."
"You sure we can trust him, though? I mean, he killed Dumbledore," Ron pointed out.
Harry merely shrugged. "He explained that a bit, too. Like I said, I can't really explain, but I don't think we have much of a choice."
"No other Death Eater can produce a Patronus Charm, Mr. Potter," said Narcissa softly. "You would do well to remember that."
A sombre moment passed, during which Hermione didn't really know what to think and wondered if, just this once, it might be better not to think at all.
"Right, then," Ron clapped his hands together. "What's the plan?"
Had Hermione been asked on that horrible night, when Harry had returned to Hogwarts with Cedric's body clutched in his bleeding hand, how the forthcoming war would be fought, she would have answered with the most skilled duelists, perhaps, or the most cleverly planned heists and ambushes.
She would not have ever guessed that joke products invented by the Weasley twins would be the key to victory. And yet, as she crouched, Disillusioned, behind a statue and watched a particularly ballsy fourth year Hufflepuff chuck a firework down the corridor, she had to admit it was a fairly brilliant stroke of genius on their part.
The firework exploded with a deafening bang into some very rude words, sparkling in the red and gold of Gryffindor. Well, that's one way to get your point across, Hermione thought mildly.
Clumsy footsteps from the opposite direction made her stiffen; holding her breath, her eyes widened as a dark cloak and heavy boots appeared an arm's length from where she hid. The figure grunted at the sight of the chaos before them and set off after the student.
The foolish Hufflepuff still stood, still throwing fireworks and what looked like a portable swamp at the top of a staircase, totally oblivious to the Death Eater charging their way. Hermione thought it might be one of the Carrows, and before she could think about it, sent a tripping jinx their way.
The Hufflepuff jumped at the shout and thud which followed, before quickly sprinting out of sight, too fast for the Death Eater now stumbling after them.
The corridor stayed eerily silent for long enough that Hermione began to feel light-headed and quickly gasped for air. She really needed to remember to breathe during times of stress, she thought absently. It wouldn't do to pass out at a critical moment.
The soft tapping of shoes on the stone floor seemed terribly loud in the early morning light. went back and forth, keeping an even pace, then stopped, waiting.
By the time the door appeared, Hermione had made her way to Harry's side. As they crept into the Room of Requirement, Harry stuffed the Invisibility Cloak into his pocket and Hermione tapped the top of her head with her wand (three times before the damn thing would listen), shivering at the odd ripple of the charm as it left her visible again.
Ron and Narcissa appeared in similar fashion, and the four stared at the massive piles of junk around them.
Ron whistled low and Hermione concurred; it would be impossible to find anything in this mess!
"What're we looking for again, Harry?"
"Snape said it's a tiara or a crown, or something," Harry answered as he slowly spun in a daze. "Lots of gems."
"The diadem of Ravenclaw."
"What?"
"That is what we are looking for."
"How can you be sure?" Hermione asked Narcissa.
Her answer was merely a shrug. "It can be nothing else."
"Accio diadem!" Several heartbeats passed and Hermione scolded herself for forgetting to breathe again. Ron looked at his empty hands in mild dismay. "Oh well. Worth a try."
Like the points of a cross, they slowly made their way in opposite directions, carefully eyeing the piles of detritus, turning back for anything which looked suitably old or shiny or evil.
Half of the things in the room seemed beyond recognition: old textbooks, diaries, mangled remains of things which may have once been furniture or knickknacks, withered articles of clothing from every style of the last two hundred years…
Where would Tom Riddle stash a morsel of his soul? Would he try to hide it, or assume that it would be protected enough by virtue of the room itself? Did the room move things around? Or would he think it needed some sort of shrine?
Overthinking… stop it, just look…
She couldn't tell how long she'd been searching, though she'd had two false positives (the first a rather bulky, ugly necklace made of some very old looking jewels and the second a proper crown, though not technically a diadem), and she couldn't see any of the others. She heard the sounds of their footsteps and their hesitant picking through piles of things and savoured the little bits of evidence that she was not alone. This place unsettled her; she suspected that too much time in here alone might quickly send someone mad.
The thought of someone lost in here for years, wandering around, momentarily frightened her. Then she heard Ron swear under his breath from somewhere far to her right, as well as the sound of something heavy falling onto the ground, and the fear drifted to the edge. For now.
Using he tip of her wand, she nudged a ratty cloak out of the way only to find a pile of poorly marked essays underneath. With a trembling sigh, she moved on.
Time took on a strangeness, as it often did in the Room of Requirement. Hermione had wondered on several occasions whether that was part of the room's magic itself. And wouldn't it be convenient if the castle could bend time like that? D.A. meetings would have been so much easier if they'd been in their own little bubble of time, safe from Umbridge's prowling… Or now, free to search their own continuum indefinitely while the war outside waited, frozen…
"Um, guys?" Harry's voice carried over mountains of rubbish. Hermione thought he sounded surprisingly near, yet it was difficult to tell with all the echoes. "Snape's Patronus just came to me again. He says that You-Know-Who will be here soon. With all the Death Eaters." Hermione swallowed, her skin prickling with chill. "If we can't find the Horcrux soon, we'll have to leave before he shows up to check on it himself."
"Hang on," came Ron from about seventy degrees clockwise, "Why don't we just do that? Let him find it for us?"
"You think we'll be able to get it off him once he's got a hold of it?" Harry asked incredulously. Hermione's head whipped in the direction of his voice, which, she noted a moment later, was rather unnecessary given that all she could see was endless stuff. "Fat chance, I reckon."
"Nevertheless, Mr. Potter, it may be prudent to start planning for that eventuality." Narcissa sounded remarkably cool, Hermione thought. She wondered if it was just for show. "Forgive me for saying so, but I highly doubt we'll find the diadem on our own in this… disorder."
"Fair enough. Best keep looking, though. I'll keep you updated if I hear anything more."
With a nod no-one could see, Hermione got back to work.
She couldn't guess how long they'd been searching, whether it had been three minutes or thirty, but the sunlight through the window had changed colour three times when there was a clatter, a smash, a pained strangling sound and the gut-wrenching noise of Harry's scream echoing through the room.
"Harry?" came Ron's voice, sounding as afraid as Hermione felt.
Hermione's grip on her wand as she tried to make her way back in the direction of the others was so tight it hurt, but she could identify no threat, only the sound of Harry's laboured breathing as he struggled with… something.
He sounded considerably nearer the next time he spoke.
"He's here. He's arriving at Hogwarts."
"Shite." Ron sounded closer, too; they were all trying to get back to Harry.
"How can you be certain, Mr. Potter?"
"I saw in my head. He'll be here really soon. We have to get out of here, now."
"What about the Horcrux?" Just as the words left Hermione's mouth, she turned a corner of rubbish and ran into Harry himself. He looked sweaty and jittery; his grip on her arm as he grabbed her elbow to tug her to the exit confirmed both those suspicions.
"We'll work it out. Come on, though, we have to be quick—" Ron appeared at their side, then Narcissa a moment later, all of them hastily jogging to the door.
"We should let the Order know, too, if they're not already here—"
"AGH!"
"Harry!"
Hermione barely caught him as his whole body seemed to buckle at once. The screams continued for far too long, though it couldn't have been more in a second, while all she and Ron could do was watch in horror as their friend twitched and spasmed against their hold—
The cries stopped the same moment his eyes opened, clear and sharp.
"I know where it is."
"What?"
"He was thinking about it. So clearly, too—Hermione, come on! We can get it!"
"Harry?" The three of them watched as he turned and began sprinting down the aisles of things.
"Harry!" called Hermione as they realised they had no choice now but to chase after him. "You told us—we have to go now! There's no time!"
"There is now! I know exactly where he put it! If I don't get it now, we may never have another chance!"
They sped up as Harry disappeared around a corner, Ron's long legs easily carrying him in the lead while Hermione and Narcissa trailed a few paces behind.
"This boy," huffed the older witch beside her, "is ridiculous."
"Welcome to the fun," Hermione retorted, barely able to breathe and with a sharp stitch forming in her side. "I've been doing this for years."
Narcissa made a breathless sound of sympathy before coming to a sudden halt.
Harry stood before them, eyes glittering with victory as he held the shimmering diadem in his hands.
The slam of the classroom door behind her rattled Hermione's bones and seemed to shake the whole castle. The corridors had been eerily silent, save for their heavy breathing and footsteps as they ran. Hermione wasn't sure what was going on outside their little band, or what was going to happen now. Would Voldemort leave when he found his Horcrux missing? Or would he stay to enact punishment? And what was Snape up to, if he was so keen to help them?
Harry tore off his cloak and the diadem sparkled in his fist. It was quite a pretty thing, but the presence of Dark magic seemed to distort it somehow, make it difficult to look at straight on.
After this, there's only the snake… no reason it can't all end today…
She didn't like that thought. She wasn't ready.
"Get the sword."
Hermione obeyed, carefully reaching into her bag. Her hand only met empty air and dirty potions vials, then bumped the heavy metal which inexplicably warmed her fingers as they wrapped around the handle.
It seemed to lift itself out on its own, as though it could wield itself and any human involved was merely as an accessory. She'd not handled the Sword of Gryffindor very much (and had certainly never fought with it like Ron or Harry had) and the truth was she didn't like it. The thing seemed to have a mind of its own and Hermione had a feeling that, Gryffindor or no, the two of them simply didn't get along very well.
She was all too glad to pass it over to Ron, who had a very serious look on his face, as though he were about to knight someone with the sword instead of destroy a part of a soul.
Hermione couldn't say for certain why Ron wanted so badly to be the one to do it. She would have thought Harry to be the one with the stronger attachment to destroying the Dark Lord, piece by piece, but Harry on the whole seemed rather unbothered by the act itself, as long as it got done. She couldn't begin to guess at the psychology driving Ronald Weasley; he'd surprised her too many times over the years for her to make any kind of definitive claim anymore. Perhaps he just wanted to feel useful, or maybe this was some kind of revenge for what the war had done to his family.
Or maybe he really was that much of a Gryffindor.
Hermione took a step back to give him room as he shifted the weight of the sword between his hands, eyeing the diadem which now sat innocuously on the desk.
Harry stood back, too, and gave a nod which set Ron's eyebrows, activated his biceps as he went to raise the sword above his head—
"No, no I'm sorry but—but I must!"
Ron froze, sword raised only a third of the way above his head and Hermione watched, stunned, as Narcissa moved near enough to touch him.
"What?" Harry blurted from beside her.
Narcissa looked to all of them, some odd combination of helpless and infuriated, and Hermione didn't know if her voice trembled with fear or rage as she explained, "I apologise, but I wish to make a request. The only one I will make of you, I swear." Swallowing, she looked between the four of them: the three wizards and the Horcrux watching from the desk. "Could I do it?"
Ron eyed her thoughtfully as the sword slowly lowered back to hang at his side. "You want to be the one to do it? To destroy the Horcrux?"
"That man has destroyed my life before the three of you were born," Narcissa spat and Hermione noticed that she seemed to be speaking directly to the diadem now. "I admit that much of it was my own doing, and I did not do as much as I ought to have done to prevent it, but… It would mean a great deal if I could be allowed this."
Harry and Hermione looked at each other with raised eyebrows, then to Ron, who, after a moment's thought, shrugged and handed over the sword.
"Sure," he quipped. "Knock yourself out. Not literally, though. It can be quite, er… aggressive."
As she carefully took the proffered weapon,
Narcissa, for her part, seemed rather enchanted by the blade in her hands and stared at it for a good few seconds before Harry called, "We'll, um, be here if you need anything, Mrs. Malfoy. Ron's right—these things tend to fight back, in our experience. Make you feel or see things. Just don't lose focus on what you have to do."
Narcissa's fingers turned white as they curled around the hilt, wrapping the sword in a grip so ferocious and secure that Hermione knew that it was certainly not the blade which was in charge anymore. "Don't worry, Mr. Potter," she growled and goose flesh rose across Hermione's skin at the venom in the sound. "I won't."
She took a step forward, ready for battle, chin held high, and Hermione swallowed nervously. The diadem's glint had changed colour.
Harry had told her how the diary had fought back in the Chamber of Secrets. She hadn't seen Ron destroy the locket, but Harry had told her about that, too; how the Horcrux had produced horrible hallucinations to convince him of all the worst thoughts lurking in his head. She had felt the destruction of the cup, the rush of evil which had swept across her skin.
She had never seen a Horcrux die before.
She didn't know how a piece of Voldemort would try to fight Narcissa.
She didn't actually see it happen; only the shift of Narcissa's posture, the curl of her spine into something feline and defensive.
"No," she hissed, and her grip on the sword changed, too. "No, you don't!"
Hermione's head snapped to the diadem; it sat innocuously on the table, though it seemed to be trembling, and invisible blackness had begun to seep from the cracks between the jewels and their settings. But there were no horrible images made out of smoke, or disembodied voices slithering about the room.
Just the tiara, the sword, and the woman whose screams grew louder with every step she took nearer to the putrid thing. Hermione saw Ron cast a swift Muffliato in the direction of the door. Narcissa's cries never became truly comprehensible, just pleads of "No!" and sounds of some kind of agony. It sounded so painful, so horrible, like someone had reached deep into the woman's heart and was now pulling out the most painful bits, one by one—
"Hermione," warned Harry, and she realised she'd taken several steps forward, arm outstretched, desperate to help. "Don't. She'll get through it. There's no other way, you know that."
Bastard! Tom bloody Riddle couldn't even make killing him pleasant!
Hermione flinched—the sound coming from Narcissa's throat had become a roar, but her shoulders squared and the she charged, a snake ready to strike; Hermione didn't even see her raise the sword before she brought it crashing down onto the diadem, screeching through the metal and scratching a deep gouge into the surface of the wooden desk.
Narcissa remained hunched over, sword held in a painfully tight grasp. Hermione could not see her face, but her ragged breaths told her enough.
Ron cheered. "Nice one, Mrs. Malfoy!"
Something in the air broke. Harry and Ron rushed to the table, eager to see the Horcrux in all its destructed glory. Hermione made slower progress across the floor, following the movement of Narcissa's breaths as they shook her body. When she found herself close enough to reach her hand, she gently pulled the sword from her hand to let it clatter on the tabletop. The inside of Narcissa's palms bore fresh pink blisters, almost like burns.
They'd run out of healing potions.
Hermione saw fragments of Narcissa's face, obscured by the hair hanging over her shoulders. Her pupils, dilated almost to the point of obscuring the paleness of her irises, stared blankly at something Hermione couldn't see while hot tears continued to leak over her cheeks.
"Hey," whispered Hermione, not entirely sure what to do but utterly convinced that she must to something. Shaking her arm until her sleeve flopped over her hand, she used it to wipe away the tears. "You did it. It's done! You're alright now…"
Hermione had no idea if Narcissa heard or understood her, but the woman's eyes closed and something in her gave way; a beautiful sigh seeped out of her, like the last echo of the Horcrux's evil.
It would do.
"Right, that's done then."
"D'you think we should take it with us? Or can we leave it here? I rather like the idea of him finding it, realising what we've done…"
"Dunno. Don't think it makes much difference, really. Here, you take the sword—" Hermione looked up to see Harry giving gesturing to the weapon on the table while he pulled out a worn parchment. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good. Right…" A rustling as Harry searched the map for something; Hermione brushed the last tear from Narcissa's cheek and tucked her hair behind her ears. Should've got an elastic, it would be so much easier if she could tie it back… Shame my hair is too short to tie back anymore. …
"Right. Ron, you've got the sword? Good. I've got to go find Snape."
"What?"
"He told me to find him when we've finished with the Horcrux."
"Why?"
"Not sure, if I'm honest. Said he has something to tell me."
"Alright, so where is he? How're we gonna get to him without running into anyone else first?"
"I… Um… I… I'm going by myself, Ron."
Harry returned Hermione's sudden glare with an apologetic look.
"Look, he told me it was something only I could hear. Dumbledore said so. And I've got the cloak… I'll be fine. And afterwards, we can find each other again, and we'll work out a plan…"
A plan for what? Harry, what are we doing here?!
Harry nodded to the sword in front of Ron. "He's here, in the castle. Which means the snake is, too." Swallowing, Harry tried to smile reassuringly. "We can do it. Today. I'll, uh, see you in a bit."
Harry was shrouded in invisibility and out the door before they could think of a way to persuade him otherwise.
But really, how could they even attempt to disagree?
The diadem sat humbly on the desk, now a mangled chunk of metal and gemstone. All that remained was an elusive creature which currently slithered about the grounds of Hogwarts, more within their reach than ever before and possibly ever again.
Narcissa seemed recovered enough to fully inhabit reality and Ron had that hard look in his eyes again.
One more to go.
