T/W: Mention of a somewhat ghastly mission, and discussion of progressions in the war.
The summer was passing quickly. Remus didn't get a chance to visit again, but Hermione's heart raced a little every time an owl stopped by the house. Often enough it was yet another pleading letter from Peter to the boys, begging them to explain what was wrong, asking if he could visit. More often it was a letter from Lily or Remus. She and Remus exchanged letters almost daily - and she'd bought an owl specifically for that purpose, much to Sirius' and James' amusement. Until, of course, James had thought to ask whether he might borrow the owl to send letters to Lily.
Hermione had also been training with the Order, and despite how much she loved spending time with Sirius, and even James nowadays, her time spent with the other Order members was the highlight of her summer. She felt stronger than ever. More capable than ever. And it felt good. Really good.
She walked through the front door of Headquarters one sunny afternoon. It was July 31, Harry's birthday, and she was eager to distract herself.
"Hi Molly, Arthur!" she greeted cheerfully. "How are the boys?"
"Oh, you know how boys are," Molly said. "Always into one thing or another. They're with my mother today."
Hermione glanced down at Molly's stomach. She didn't know if Molly knew yet, but Hermione had done the math and the twins were in there.
Molly caught her gaze, her eyes wide. "How did you know?" she hissed. "We haven't even told anyone yet!"
Hermione smiled secretively. "Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies."
Molly eyed her suspiciously for a moment before an enormous smile broke across her face. "This little guy is already causing me problems," she said happily. "I've been sick as can be all week. He'll be a little trouble-maker, I can tell you."
Hermione could feel her eyes sparkling like Albus'. She tried to blink the expression away.
"It could be a girl, you know!" Arthur protested.
Hermione grinned deviously. "I wouldn't count on it, Arthur. Is Alastor here yet?"
"Not yet, Mione," Gideon said, coming into the room. "He's tying something up at the Ministry-"
"Quite literally," his twin interjected with a grin.
"-Should be here soon."
Hermione nodded. "Alright good. We've been working on something and I'm eager to get practicing."
"Aren't you always," Minerva said with wry smile.
Hermione greeted the other Order members as they came in. Hagrid, Edgar Bones with his wife and parents, Caradoc Dearborn, Dorcas Meadowes, Benjy Fenwick, Alice Stokes (soon to be Longbottom) with Frank and Augusta Longbottom, and on and on. The Order may have been a minor player in the war the first time around, but Hermione's gentle nudges were turning them into a much more significant player on the board. An organized militia. A real army. A force to be reckoned with.
Which is good, she thought grimly, because this summer has been a shitshow. She remembered how Mr. Weasley had spoken about the war that night at the Quidditch World Cup. The Dark Mark everywhere. Fear and suspicion in everyone's hearts. Not knowing who to trust, or how to keep your family safe. The terror of it had still lingered in his voice as he'd spoken about it, had gripped him tightly even so many years later.
Hermione had wondered what Voldemort's plans for that summer were. And now she knew. The climate in the Wizarding world, just one short month into summer, was already skydiving. People were scared. People were dying. Fear was everywhere. Every night, the Death Eaters were out, sending up their mark, taking lives, killing and kidnapping and destroying.
Outside these walls, Hermione felt useless, but as soon as she walked through the doors, she remembered that she was doing important things, creating important change. When she was inside these walls, planning with the Order members, organizing safe houses, duelling with the Prewett brothers or with Alastor or Emmeline… those were the moments when she felt truly powerful. The moments when she truly believed that she could end this war. Those were the moments when she felt most fiercely like herself.
She couldn't wait for her friends to see it.
Once everyone had arrived, Albus called the meeting to order.
"As many of you know, there was an attack in a small Muggle community last night. Several of our members were deployed to run interference and lend assistance. Alastor, you were in charge of that mission. We're eager to hear your report."
Hermione wasn't. She'd been there. A small village torn apart. Houses burning. The smell of burning flesh and smoke in the air. Men and women and children and animals dead or dying. Her stomach writhed at the thought. She clasped her hands in her lap to stop them from shaking. She thanked the Slytherins for her ability to keep her expression neutral.
"Aye. We went. I took my team and Lance's. The ten of us apparated into… chaos. Muggles dead or screaming or sobbing. Terrified out of their minds. Fire everywhere. The damned Dark Mark already glowing in the sky. There were seven Death Eaters at the scene. We captured two. Killed one. The other four escaped."
"The Obfuscation charm appeared to work?" Albus asked.
The question was directed to Alastor, but Alastor indicated for Hermione to answer. "I believe so," she said. "The Death Eaters seemed confused, and when Alastor dropped the charm to interrogate the captives, they seemed surprised to see who he was."
Alastor nodded his confirmation. "It's a smart bit of magic, Albus. We're lucky to have Belanger on our side."
Hermione hid a smile at the rare praise. She and Lily had worked hard to develop a way for the Order members to conceal their identities. This way they couldn't be picked off one by one as they had in Hermione's timeline. The charm didn't change their features or mask their faces, exactly… it sort of blurred and shadowed them, so they were indistinct and beyond identifying. She was pretty damn proud of it, if she did say so herself.
"Indeed we are," Albus agreed. "Please, continue."
"We helped the Muggles the best we could. Healed them up, put out the fires. We had to do a memory wipe, of course."
Hermione gritted her teeth. She knew it was the law, but she didn't have to like it.
"Anyway, that was pretty much it. Home safe and sound at the end of the day. An overall victory."
"Here, here!" said the Prewett twins, pounding their fists on the tables. Molly rolled her eyes, but her face was shining with pride. Hermione knew Molly watched her clock the entire time her brothers were on a mission, but once the fear and the relief passed, she was obviously very proud of them.
"Very good. My thanks to Alastor's and Lance's teams," Albus said softly. "Now, if there are no other matters to which to attend—?"
Hermione stood. "I'd like to speak, if I may?"
"Of course, my dear." Albus took a seat.
"I'd like to propose new initiates. If there is general assent, I will teach them to produce a corporeal Patronus myself and petition formally for their induction."
"You're talking about the Marauders," one of the twins—Fabian, she thought—said dryly.
"Among others," Hermione said.
"Those troublemakers?" said Molly.
Hermione held up a hand for silence. "Listen, I know all the objections. They're reckless. They're still in school. They never take anything seriously. And it's not true. They're in. They get it. They are serious about this war. They want to help. And yes, they're still in school. In school, with Death Eaters and the children of Death Eaters."
"Hermione," Lance interrupted, "you know we value you and your contributions to the Order. Immensely. But that was always understood to be an exception."
"They're of age," Hermione pointed out. "It shouldn't be anyone's decision but their own. I know it's unorthodox, but that doesn't mean it should be." She took a steadying breath. "I've helped them to develop a strong enough Occlumency skill to keep their secrets safe within the school. No one there is going to be able to get anything out of them. They're all 17. They could be an asset."
"You're not just asking us to let your friends into the club," Marlene McKinnon pointed out. "You're asking us to change the criteria for membership. To remove the requirement of graduation from Hogwarts."
Hermione nodded. "I am."
Murmurs broke out, chatter rose. Hermione waited, her eyes on Alastor, whose opinion would sway the vote in one way or another.
"Well," he said finally. "Obviously they'd be in school until graduation. They couldn't very well be sent on missions. So, sure, they'd be safe, but what would be the value of them joining up now?"
"We could wait until they graduate," Hermione agreed. "But then we'd miss out on months of training. The DA is great, but those teams, those people… those aren't the people they're necessarily going to be fighting alongside. If we let them in now, by the time summer comes, they'll be ready."
The twins nodded together. "Think of the jump we'd have had, being ready for missions straight out of Hogwarts."
Alastor nodded, and so did many others. "So then, we modify requirements to accept 7th years into meetings and training, but not missions?"
"That seems wisest to me," Hermione conceded.
"All in favour, then?" Albus asked.
After a moment's hesitation, nearly everyone's hand rose into the air. Everyone but Molly, that is, but Hermione had expected that. With that matter dealt with successfully, they moved on to training.
Hermione's team consisted of Alastor (their team leader), the Gideon and Fabian Prewett, Emmeline Vance, and herself. Sometimes the teams combined for training, or the Order would pair off, but most often they trained together as a team. After months of working together, Hermione knew their fighting styles and predispositions as well as she knew her own—and she only knew her own so well because of the way she'd come to know herself through training with her team.
On good days, they could go through training seamlessly, each keenly, almost unconsciously aware, of where one another was. Able to predict one another's movements and spells, and to integrate without hesitation.
On their bad days… Well… things didn't go quite as well.
Today they were practicing a drill in the Forbidden Forest. A mannequin was tied up in the woods as a hostage. Lance's team were the Death Eaters, determined to keep the hostage at all costs. Alastor's team was on a mission to rescue the hostage and capture the Death Eaters, if possible.
They were doing terribly. Gideon and Fabian, clearly blowing off some steam after last night's grisly mission had charged in recklessly, Emmeline, Alastor, and Hermione trailing along behind them. Hermione tried to shake off her exasperation and clear her mind. Gideon was already down. Fabian was duelling Andromeda and Elphias solo. Hermione jumped in to help as Alastor and Emmeline found opponents of their own.
The primary rule of a hostage rescue was: Never fire a spell in the hostage's direction. (The second was: Be stealthy, which had apparently flown the twins' minds.)
Hermione headed off with Andromeda. Her head finally in the game. But she had lost her sense of her teammates. She cast a "stupefy!" and then, casting a quick shield, made the cardinal mistake of taking her eyes off her opponent to assess her teammates' situations.
When she woke up, it was to a very grumpy Alastor, and two thoroughly berated Prewetts.
"You know, Belanger," he grumbled, "it's a lot easier to practice new strategies if you're, you know, awake."
Hermione grinned. "Sorry. Again?"
He sighed a long-suffering sigh that was only half for show. "Aye, again."
When training was over for the day, Hermione stayed behind for a private chat with Albus and Minerva. They flooed to his office at Hogwarts and Albus sent for tea.
"How have you been, Hermione?" Albus asked once they were seated.
Hermione considered her reply. "Good. I think. I mean, considering everything."
"You and the boys are getting on?" Minerva asked, a bit skeptically.
Hermione smiled. "Very well, Minerva. They're so much more relaxed in the summer. I mean, I'm pretty sure some colossal prank is going to befall me any day now... But otherwise good."
Minerva tried to look disapproving, but Hermione wasn't fooled.
"Well, Hermione. Not that I wouldn't love this to be a casual tea, but I gathered there was something you wanted to discuss?"
Hermione nodded. "The matter of the Hogwarts Horcrux."
"If there is one," Minerva interjected for what felt like the millionth time. She wasn't a particular fan of the idea of something so dark and insidious hiding inside the school—especially knowing what damage the diary had caused in the future.
"I know it might be a bit of a long shot," Hermione said. "But Harry believed that Voldemort would want a Horcrux at Hogwarts. I think it's worth investigating. Besides, we don't have much to go on. We don't even know how many there are. The diary, the ring, the cup, the locket, something of Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's or both." None of this was news to anyone, of course. They'd had this conversation several times over. "Future Albus thought there were seven. One was his snake, so a maximum of six-"
"Hermione." Albus' voice was grave. Hermione pulled up short. "I've been thinking it over, and I have a... A theory." Minerva shot him a disapproving look. "Minerva doesn't think I ought to worry you about it, but I promised to be transparent with you. So if you would humour me a moment, I'd like to ask you some questions about Harry."
Hermione swallowed thickly. "You're going to tell me Harry was the sixth Horcrux, aren't you?"
Albus' eyebrows rose in surprise, but he nodded solemnly. "The Parseltongue, their strange connection, the prophecy..."
Hermione didn't want to hear this. Had spent months upon months determinedly not considering this possibility. She wanted to childishly storm out of the room. But she didn't. She stayed. And she listened. Because she knew it made sense. Knew it was the only thing that made sense. Regardless of how much she loathed it.
"Hermione," Albus went on, "the wording of the prophecy finally makes sense if we consider the possibility that it was Voldemort's soul entering Harry that marked him as an "equal". That neither could live fully and untethered in such a scenario."
"I've considered it," Hermione whispered. Her heart was gripped in a vice of sorrow. Angry tears pricked at her eyes. "I tried not to. I didn't want to believe it was even possible. But Albus... if Harry is a Horcrux... How could you not tell him?" She forced herself to face him. "How do I begin forgive that?"
Albus' eyes swam with regret and sadness. Over something he'd never even done. Yet. Hermione didn't know how you could hold someone accountable for an act they'd never committed… but then neither did she know how to forgive someone for something they hadn't actually done.
Minerva gently gripped Hermione's shoulder in Gryffindor solidarity.
"I don't know, Hermione," Albus said solemnly. "I don't know how to ask your forgiveness for not telling Harry. For not being transparent with him. I won't make any excuses."
A tear slipped down Hermione's cheek and she swatted it away quickly, heaving a deep sigh. Harry had trusted Albus implicitly. Had loved him. And Albus had known, all along, that Harry would have to die, in the end. The betrayal of it was a jagged dagger in her heart. "Of course you don't," she said quietly. "You haven't done anything wrong. I just... I need time to process this."
"Of course," Albus conceded. "Then let us return to your original topic of concern."
"Right," Hermione said, as business-like as she could, despite how much she'd rather escape the confines of the room. "Well, what I wanted to talk about was whether you felt it might be of use to peruse the Black family library for books on Horcruxes. Even Hogwarts' restricted section is tame compared to their collection. Maybe there's a way to sense or track a Horcrux. I don't know. Just... Something. Anything."
Minerva and Albus frowned together. "That sounds like a dangerous undertaking, Hermione," Albus said.
"Are you certain it's worth the risk?" asked Minerva.
Hermione shrugged. "I have no idea. But I've been talking to Sirius. He thinks we could sneak in during some pureblood high society event at the Parkinsons'. I'd just go, but it would be an Order-related mission, so I wanted your go-ahead."
Albus smiled faintly. "If you want to take a look, I don't see why not. Be careful though, Hermione. Remember how dangerous those books can be—not just psychologically, but physically too. Some will be warded against Muggleborns, no doubt. And the house itself is hardly a safe place. This is a very long shot; if you have to choose between being safe or being successful, your own wellbeing must come first."
"Understood," Hermione promised.
Minerva clearly still had reservations.
"It might be useless, Minerva, I know," she said. "But I have to try. No stone unturned."
"Be safe then, you reckless Gryffindor," Minerva said tenderly. "And you make sure Sirius Black understands he'll have me to answer to should any harm befall either of you."
"Aye, aye, Captain," Hermione said lightly. "I'll see you both next meeting."