Hermione was upset, and her affections being rebuffed gave her something to occupy her mind, especially as she realized she rarely showed affection. It was a fair bit to have to mull over, and she would mull it over when lying awake at night with no other distractions available, but during waking hours drowning herself in work had always been serviceable in the past.
She had borrowed a few books from the library that were relevant to her current research, including a text on Occlumency that might have helped Hannah, but Terry's bag was of greater interest, holding a few self-study books focused on getting advanced students to NEWT level while abroad for extended periods. We're missing so much, but we'll have to start reading these eventually... Ron was on the right track about dividing it up, but we need to understand what we're dividing up and how.
In each of the diamond window panes there was a reflection staring back at her every moment she looked up from whatever she was reading.
It seemed impossible that Ron would have managed to hide his relationship with Hannah, since he was usually unsuccessful with what little he wanted to hide, but she reminded herself there might not have been a whole process of dating and flirting that she missed. Her mother, asking about boys and her plans for the future one summer, told her in no uncertain terms that, with all due respect for people her age, relationships between teenagers often started and stopped for the very dumbest of reasons. Her father corroborated with completely unnecessary anecdotal evidence.
What was it that she did, then? Did she tell him she liked him? It was something she would have done, deciding what her feelings were, but Hermione scoffed at the idea all the same. If she knew the Gryffindor at all, he would hardly have waited for her to say anything. Then what was it that made him decide?
She looked back at her reflection.
She had a mane of bushy, brown hair and a plain look about her. After several close scrapes and trips to the hospital wing, she would have been surprised if she never had her face magically reconstructed, which made her teeth look normal, but she barely noticed at the time. I didn't notice because I didn't care. Why didn't I care? What's wrong with caring?
The Ravenclaw shook her head. There was work to do, and it would be even more pathetic to start caring about appearances when the chance was passed. She doubted Ron lost sleep over his hair or his non-immediate future, but that was typical for young wizards. There was hardly a market for scalp poultices outside of Witch Weekly mail-order, and she rolled her eyes enough at her dormmates taking divination to find their true loves that she could see the connection. So when I don't want to act like the girls in my year, I act like the boys instead? How did I get so stupid?
Her face was resting on the book, but she kept herself from crying. Someone put a hand on her shoulder.
"Do you need someone to take over for a minute?" It was Parvati's voice, but she sounded an awful lot like her sister for a moment. It's better she doesn't know that reading was my escape. Hermione rose and let the Gryffindor witch look over the book that covered Apparation. "This is something we could use. The practical directions seem limited, so at least it's only hard to understand conceptually."
"It's my understanding that sixth-years learn it in a few afternoon practice sessions," she said, nodding. "In either case, we need some way of getting past the Trace."
"Fred and George said their old friend was in the area," Ron called out. Apparently he had sent his coded letters, but there was no response yet. There was no information on whether the floo regulators worked actively or retroactively, but he took a gamble on the latter. "If he's got unregistered portkeys, there's a good chance we can at least learn something about that."
In the magical corner of Wrexham, there was apparently no equivalent of Knockturn Alley, where she might have suggested going were it not the first place the Hit Wizards would look. As little as she liked it, the kinds of products they sold there were the exact variety that they needed. Magical Cardiff might have something, and we need to be moving anyway.
There was a knock in the stairway to the pub below and her wand was out. There was a general sense of calm in the room as a robed figure came up the stairs. The old wizard the twins mentioned...
"The living legend, Gruffydd…" Fred started, but a hand from the robe prevented him as the figure straightened.
"Not quite..." a voice came as the hand removed a hood. The bearded face of an old man faded, replaced by a more familiar visage.
"Ms. Jones!" Hermione heard herself announce. That was what Hannah called her, anyway...
"Got it in one, you did," the trainee Auror said. "Mad-Eye's bringing the Order back, what's left of it anyway."
"Took him long enough," George muttered. "Hope he's had a fulfilling retirement."
If both of them know who 'Mad-Eye' is, he's most likely a retired Auror, someone decorated from last time. Lady Longbottom told us about the Order, which I understand had a few Aurors as members.
As for why the group did not reassemble itself after the return of Voldemort, she suspected some hoped the system could solve the problem, that the Dark Lord was friendless as he was in death, and the expanded Auror Corps would make short work of him. The Ministry, however, denied the problem until it could hardly be avoided, and doubled down on blaming everything on Dumbledore, even after he died, which made sense, as there was no one around to complain about it on his behalf. Really, though, I'll have to ask them.
"Well, did you come here to tell us that?" Ron asked. Hermione detected an upset note in his voice, probably the result of being misled, his brothers being misled, or both. Hestia Jones is superb at remaining unnoticed when she wants. When she was assigned to protecting Neville, Hannah told me she appeared out of nowhere once, and she couldn't have apparated. My main question is why she's been handing out unregistered portkeys.
"I came here to help, as all along. If any of you are interested in joining the Order, speak now or I'm off."
Nothing was said for a moment. The Ravenclaw witch knew the group was well-meaning, but there was virtually no chance that they would be allowed to do anything, ranging from fourteen to seventeen- maybe the Weasley twins would have a seat at the table, but that would be it. It's possible she was giving them a taste of being in the Order and the privileges it affords this whole time.
Hermione sighed. The worst thing was, she and Ron at least were on the run from the law, and the trainee Auror represented a known group, a worst-kept-secret rather than a sleeper cell. If any of the members held regular jobs, they could be followed back to the hideout, wherever it was, and the pair of them would be discovered, making a headache for everyone else for harboring fugitives.
"I'm sorry to reject your offer while knowing so little about it..." she started. "... but I can't come up with any way it won't be the worse for both of us. We're going to be moving on from here soon..."
"So you'll need another portkey. As it happens, I thought to bring one with me, I did," Ms. Jones volunteered before levitating a playing card in their direction. "Not to worry about us, of course. We don't come after people for staying out of things."
No one said we were staying out of things.
"Where can we find you?" Parvati asked. The Order representative was explaining something about a well-hidden place in London, but Hermione was only watching the twins. They were interested, and she seemed to understand the looks they were shooting her. They want to have a conversation outside with her. After we lose our other Gryffindor, we'll be down to four until we can find Hannah and Terry... and that's if we can find them.
Recruitment seemed a failure all of a sudden, but Ron's countenance had not wavered, for some reason.
"Are you coming?" she asked, turning to the Indian witch. "We might as well, before they know where we are."
Parvati's eyes narrowed.
"I suppose. I was only just getting acquainted with your Slytherin friend, after all." That's just brilliant. I'm so glad you've noticed.
The five of them gathered around the portkey with a shuffling of feet.
I never asked Cho why she fights with us. Was it because of the twins? No, it can't be-
All at once they were elsewhere. Taking stock of their situation with her wand out, Hermione found they were on an abandoned Quidditch Pitch. It's a wizarding area, but at least it's dark here. We can sleep in the changing rooms or something. It occurred to her that Ron would be by himself, while she would have three companions. Well, I wish we had someone else here, for his sake, but I can't keep hanging around wizards exclusively- the fact that I'm already wondering about what to discuss with everyone is a good enough reason already.
Cho and Parvati had their eyes up, as if there would be relevant information about their exact position on a neon sign somewhere. Well, the stars could narrow it down slightly. Parvati was serious about Divination.
"We've not left the northern hemisphere, but we're far from home," the Indian witch said.
"We may learn about which teams play here inside," Cho speculated. ...and we can usually count on her to supply a simpler, more helpful solution.
Her smile seemed to be irritating the Gryffindor witch. Mafalda walked slowly behind them.
"I think you should take the first shower," Hermione suggested, turning to the lone Slytherin, who shrugged. Anyone would be demoralized at this point. I suppose I should be impressed at everyone else's resilience. Of course, Ron hasn't spoken where it wasn't perfectly necessary... well, he has another reason to be taking this hard.
The three older witches filed into a single changing room quietly. It was perhaps excessive to have the lone wizard on the other side of the locker room arrangement, but it gave them some sense of familiarity, and he would be less likely to hear them. The water started.
"Say, Parvati, I was wondering, why do you like... hanging around Dean so much?" she managed. "I mean, if you'd rather not say-"
"He needs me. I think most people assume he's impressed his general manner on me, but we drew together in the first place because we discovered, well, we're similar in odd ways. I keep his secrets and keep him out of too much trouble."
That was direct. Well, I expected direct, but I did not expect 'personal'.
"I see," Cho started back. "I like Roger; he is reasonable and direct."
I didn't entirely mean for the conversation to go in that direction.
"That was the impression I had of him," Hermione commented. "Is he involved in the conflict?" She had some idea of what he was like as a person, but what he was like as a boyfriend remained beyond her. I suppose I don't know how selective Cho is, not that it's any of my-
"He told me not to be involved myself. He concealed his own side, to prevent me from taking it."
The idea made her lose her train of thought. I suppose, from one perspective or another, that's the responsible thing to do, but it seems unfair to make himself responsible for her life. He's a year older, but apart from that there's not a substantial difference in their abilities.
"I don't get it. Why are you here?" Parvati asked.
"I decided he would fight quietly, alone, and always for what is right," Cho answered quietly. "I trust him." The other Ravenclaw found herself staring at the floor. "If I followed him into battle, he would stun me. He would hide me somewhere. He is a selfish young man."
Hermione wondered if these discussions ever took place in the boys' dorm, and she doubted it with the same downward smile that her friend wore. I'm sure Ron appreciates me and Hannah, well, probably her a bit more than me, but it's an unconscious appreciation. It was possible they were all appreciating each other more, with as many deaths as had happened, some closer to home than others. I didn't say anything to him when he learned he lost Ginny. I couldn't think of anything to say and I was afraid of saying the wrong thing. How could I possibly understand? I don't have brothers or sisters. I certainly haven't lost any.
Cho and Parvati were talking about Padma when Mafalda came in. Hermione was less than engrossed in the conversation and left without a word, guessing her way to the showers based on how long it took the Slytherin to get back. The only good thing either of them can say about her is that she turned out to be right about the Ministry and the Department. Even the Hufflepuffs are acting as she predicted, mostly.
The Ravenclaw witch had her clothes off quickly and sighed in an odd sense of relief as she found no mirror in the shower. She doubted any of the witches in her year were just effortless beauties who never had to agonize over the slightest imperfections, but it felt pathetic to remind herself of their humanity, somehow. As she efficiently went about washing herself, applying a warming charm in the process, it seemed the only way to feel better was to make some small step that no one would particularly noticed, but she lacked an idea of where to start. She supposed she could swallow her pride and ask Cho what she did every day, remembering that up until recently she never took pride in appearances, femininity, or being able to relate with other girls, so it was not out of the question.
Turning her thoughts to Mafalda, who had latched onto Hannah, she winced at the thought of trying to console her, but the Hufflepuff had never been a professional. Hermione sighed as she surfaced from the shower and used a drying charm, sighing as if to expel the worries and doubt that fogged her mind, as if she were about to take a surprise exam, which somehow registered as less stressful.
It sounded like Parvati had taken to talking to the Slytherin, which explained why Cho had taken the unspoken cue of the water turning off, surfacing from the changing room.
"Excuse me, you wouldn't happen to have any..." she started as the Chinese witch passed her.
"I am afraid I would not," the other Ravenclaw responded. "I did not think to take my scalp balm with me." She took a few more steps before turning around again. "I saw what happened between you and the twins' brother." Hermione swallowed. "For what it is worth, I believe Terrence was interested."
Cho disappeared after that, most likely because she enjoyed the awkwardness of the conversation as much as anyone else involved. Well, she has a shower to take. I just have to stand here figuring out my life before the others start to wonder why I haven't rejoined them.
She lowered herself onto a wooden bench in the off-white room, wondering why they had so many changing rooms except the convenience afforded by extension charms, though she would have to see the exterior to know for certain. Resting her forehead on her fingertips she contemplated the significance of Terry seeming interested in her. Well, that's what everyone would think, isn't it? A typical red-blooded male can't possibly be studying with a female because they're interested in the same things or because they're helping each other. She had a thought of other witches laughing behind her back for not realizing, when they knew less about him than she did and her fingers curled for a moment before relaxing. There's nothing wrong with his being interested in me. He must be taking our similar interests into account. Hermione rose, deciding to see about Mafalda and Parvati. But that's it, though, isn't it? It never entered my mind anyone would ever be interested in me.
Half of the words the older witch was saying were some language other than English, but only the younger was listening. The Ravenclaw merely registered her reappearance as she wondered whether or not it would have been better to be formally turned down. No, then I'd have to make Ron get the words out. Terry could not tell me he likes me, and even though Ron's significantly more direct, I doubt he could tell me he has no love for me.
Raising her head a bit, she decided that was most likely false, and not simply because she hoped it. The four of them, at some level, loved each other, disagreements and known faults aside. Thinking about it, there was next to nothing she would not do for any of her friends, Terry, Ron, Hannah, Neville... she gave herself permission to be more reticent with those outside the immediate circle. Fighting together, trusting each other... there was an indelible bond between them she expected would go beyond the grave. Of late she had started to take more careful notes, not relying on her own memory to fill in the gaps in case Ron or Neville or someone else needed to know about the properties of aconite after her death. In a sense, Terry had something of his own prepared, having them retrieve his bag from the mysterious room.
He's not dead. It's too soon to give up on him.
Hermione half-listened as Parvati went over a few resources on the magic she and her sister knew, her head still swimming with her other problems. A disguise might help us rescue our friends, but if they're still alive we need to know where they are.
She froze. I've been using magic instinctively- I've cast a warming charm, a drying-
"Is the Trace active here or is this a protected region?" she asked out of nowhere.
"It's a Quidditch Pitch," the Gryffindor witch started back. "I think Hestia dropped us here so that we could use magic if we needed. However, you do bring up an important point..."
"I'll work it out," the Ravenclaw offered. "I happen to have a book on the Trace." Well, properly, Terry has a few clippings from the Prophet, and only because he'd proposed a mobile secret base. I really just need to keep her talking to her favorite pupil. She decided it was possible Cho had the same idea.
The Trace, effectively, was a layering of wards on the British Isles. She had no idea how it was put in place, only that there must be a map of circles keyed to mutable wards. The most likely explanation for the occasional mix-up in the location of a spell being cast was that two of the mutable wards went off, which narrowed it down to two exact points. Hermione knew she was extrapolating a fair bit, but it was a way of going about the task that made sense. Any kind of warding of multiple islands would have to be time consuming and a borderline Statute violation in itself, and some of the gaps were built into the system to save some of the enormous effort it already required. The wards could be removed easily, but removing one would set off the one or two touching it, and removing all of them seems impossible out of hand. What we need is a way of keeping the ward from activating.
Thinking about it, the wards never activated for those of magical majority, it was not simply a matter of magic going unpunished, because Death Eater attacks in muggle areas would be inconceivable, and there were some documented cases of those. Writing each ward to keep from activating if an adult stood on it, however, would have turned a great effort into a ridiculous effort, supporting her theory they were not individually written, but rather mutable wards. A single spell wrote them all, and the spell excluded adults... well, adults and anyone with enough bad ideas to try.
