Scrimgeour's grip on her shoulder was still there after they side-Apparated. Everyone landed well on their feet, though Harmony wavered a little; Scrimgeour's hand kept her steady. Beneath her black boots were familiar cobble streets. She looked up to see her reflection in a window she had passed many times before: Flourish and Blotts.
"Diagon Alley, Ron?" Ginny inquired as they all got their bearings.
"It was the first place I could think of," said Ron, face going red.
"You did all right, Ron," said Mr. Weasley. "Come, let's get out of the open."
As one, they started down the street. Scrimgeour whipped his wand in Harmony's face.
"Follow."
Her body snapped to attention and obeyed. She wished she could spit a few curse words in his face, ones that would make even Ron gasp. How dare he use an Unforgiveable Curse against her? When she had first seen Scrimgeour's bloody state, a part of her had pitied him. Now her empathy for him vanished.
Harmony tried to remember her last trip to Diagon Alley but the memories eluded her. However, her trip to Knockturn Alley was still fresh in mind. She had spent a majority of her dueling competition winnings on Polyjuice potion to infiltrate Menkar Asylum and break Voldemort—at least who she thought was him—free. It was strange to think that had only been a week ago. Only a week? Was that right? So much has happened since then. She had been reunited with her soulmate, became engaged, helped take over the Ministry of Magic, and then lost him. All in seven days.
She needed a less exciting life.
While her distant memories of Diagon Alley were colorful and lively—hordes of young witches and wizards shuffling excitedly from shop to shop—it now resembled Knockturn Alley. Colors were muted, fog rolling in about their ankles, shopkeepers quietly holed up inside like scared mice. Shop windows and the brick walls between them were covered in posters. Voldemort's propaganda.
Your New Minister! Your Savior!
The Dark Lord Minister!
Embrace Your Power! Strong Before the Weak!
Many of the posters also listed Voldemort's endless list of new laws. As she had expected, he hadn't wasted any time enforcing his power over the Wizarding World. Death Eaters wearing brand new black robes with opulent silver Dark Mark brooches patrolled the streets with wands drawn, eagerly searching for witches and wizards to reprimand. Scrimgeour twitched his wand and Harmony's body forced itself into the group of adults, out of view.
"Look!" Ginny exclaimed, pointing up to the sky and all eyes followed. Soaring high above the pointed rooftops, Death Eaters flew on broomsticks in groups of two or three.
"Those buggers are everywhere," said George.
"They're patrolling the skies," said Mr. Weasley. He pressed an urgent hand into Ginny's back. "Come now, let's get inside."
They reached the Leaky Cauldron, although it was barely recognizable under the layers and layers of posters. Inside was dimly lit and smelled of tobacco smoke which swirled in a great cloud above their heads. Patrons of all shapes and sizes were scattered about in small groups with their heads bent close together, exchanging whispers. They approached the bar. The barkeep was bent over, rummaging glasses around the lower shelf. When he straightened, they were met with a—rather thin—brown-haired, buck-toothed young man.
"Neville!" Harry and Ron exclaimed.
Neville's eye's popped open. Swinging a rag over his shoulder, he strode out from behind the bar. The boys came forward to embrace him, but Neville stopped them cold when he slapped a hand to heart and proclaimed:
"All Praise the Dark Lord and Lady!"
The whole group stared at him in disbelief.
A frantic look overcame the young man, hand still to heart, and he jerked his head to the left, eyes focusing on something behind them. They followed his gaze and, to their dismay, noticed a couple of Death Eaters not five meters from them. Luckily, they had already distracted themselves with a couple of young witches who had failed to exchange praises with them on their way in.
"The Dark Lord is your new Minister now, ladies," one said rather loudly, so everyone in the room could hear. "He and his Lady are going to make huge changes to our world, all for the better. So when says that you must praise him, you do it."
At his final words, he pointed his wand at one of the witches. She called out in alarm as her hand was forced, shaking, to her heart. The other witch quickly did the same.
The group turned back to Neville. Mr. Weasley and Lupin put a hand over their hearts and muttered the words. The teenagers followed suit, although less enthusiastically. Moody and Scrimgeour did nothing.
"If you'll just follow me to the back, I'll check the books to see if we have rooms available."
Neville disappeared through a door behind the bar with the group on his heels. They entered a storage room with crates full of dusty bottles of liquor. A lit chandelier above illuminated their surroundings. The second the door was closed, Neville deflated, whipping the rag off his shoulder to mop the sweat from his brow.
"Blimey, Harry! You sure have the guts to be walking around here. During the day…without an army, no less."
"We were in a bit of an emergency."
Neville threw up his arms. "The whole Wizarding World's in a bit of an emergency."
"I know, Neville. We're going to do whatever we can to fix it."
Neville perked up at that. "Oh, Merlin, please tell me you have a plan."
Harry's head twitched in Harmony's direction. "We'll think of something."
"You have to." Neville wrung the towel between his hands, watching them somberly. "This can't be all there is. It can't be the end, with Voldemort the winner."
"It won't be," said Harry with as much certainty as a man who could see the future. His confidence soothed Neville.
"What are you doing here at the Leaky Cauldron?" Ginny asked. "Last we heard, you were helping with repairs after the Battle of Hogwarts."
"I was, but—"
The storage room door opened and a tall girl with long blonde hair peered in.
"You all right in here, love?"
"Yes, sweetheart. Come see who's here!" Neville waved her in.
The girl maneuvered around the group to stand at Neville's side and Harmony instantly recognized Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff from the same year. Neville took her hand and they exchanged a warm look.
"The two of us spent a few weeks trying to get things back to normal at Hogwarts, along with the other survivors. We did what we could. Cleaned away the destruction, helped reunite families with the bodies of their dead children…" Neville's voice caught in his throat. Hannah squeezed his hand. He swallowed hard. "Once things were as normal as they could possibly be, McGonagall was made headmistress, as you know, and talks of reopening Hogwarts began."
Neville heaved a great sigh, shirt going taut across his chest.
"But I can't do it. I can't do back. Every corridor is rife with memories from that battle. I can't even walk through the courtyard without imagining Voldemort there. Hogwarts used to be home and he ruined that. Not a single sleep goes by without nightmares. But…every day gets a little easier with her at my side." He looked to Hannah and she smiled. His voice went hoarse with emotion. "She is my angel, truly."
"Oh, Neville," Ginny sighed. "We're so sorry."
Neville nodded to her in gratitude. After clearing his throat, he continued as though they were discussing the weather:
"A relative of Hannah's was friends with Tom, the old keeper of the Leaky Cauldron. He passed the place on to them before he died. We've been working here for about a week now."
"You two have been through a lot," said Lupin. "How unfortunate it is that our problems only seem to be beginning."
"We could really use the two of you," said Ron. "We need all the help we can get."
"For now? We can give you a couple of rooms, the best the Cauldron has to offer. But, honestly, you've caught us at quite a busy time. See…Hannah and I are getting married."
"Married!?" Ginny said, sounding thoroughly shocked but excited.
"Tomorrow actually." The couple grinned at each other.
"That's wonderful, mate!" Ron said and then frowned. "But why now? With everything that's been happening? Bit strange to be thinking of marriage at a time like this."
Hannah spoke up this time. "Death Eaters have been spreading rumors around. There's talk of Voldemort enforcing another new law. A marriage law."
"What kind of marriage law?" Harry asked but Hannah shrugged.
"We don't know the details," said Neville. "But if the rumors are true, the whole lot of you better couple up while there's still a choice."
Harry and Ginny exchanged discreet glances. Ron looked full on at Harmony behind him. From where Neville stood, it appeared as though Ron was looking at Scrimgeour, and he was confused as to why he would turn to the much-older man in that moment. Then Scrimgeour moved slightly to the side, revealing Harmony, and his mouth dropped open.
"Bloody hell," he gasped, raising a finger to point at her. "Is-is that really her? Please tell me you all see Hermione Granger standing there."
"Relax, Neville." Ron held up his hands in a calming gesture. "It's really her, but it's all right."
"It's all right? It's all right!? Hermione Bleeding Granger is standing in the room with us!"
"You okay, mate?" George asked when Neville started gasping for breath, green eyes frantically jumping to each corner of the room as though expecting to see Voldemort there.
"Deep breaths, love. Like we practiced." Hannah caressed his back in long, gentle motions. Then she rounded on the group with fire in her eyes. "What is she doing with you? You better explain quick or I'm turning the lot of you out. The last thing we need is Voldemort's attention on us!"
"Keep your knickers on, young witch." Scrimgeour sneered at her. Hannah's head jerked back at the offense. He held up his wand. "Miss Granger is under my influence. All I have to do is say 'Jump' and she'll ask 'How high?'"
"You…you have her under the Imperius curse?" Neville asked, wary.
"Ay." Scrimgeour flicked his wand and Harmony's legs moved, taking her to the front of the group, right before Neville and Hannah. "Go ahead. Give her a slap and I'll make her thank you."
Everyone—save Moody, who chuckled—gaped at the old Minister in shock. Hannah's hand twitched, eyes hard on Harmony as though she was seriously considering Scrimgeour's offer. Neville crept forward until he was nearly nose-to-nose with her. He surveyed every inch of her face, searching for the bookish girl he had befriended at school.
Harmony wondered, did he see her? Or did he see a stranger?
"I just want to know why." His tone was soft. He was speaking to her and only her. The pain in his voice brought heart-breaking thoughts to mind. If she could feel, her chest would be aching from the guilt. "Why did you save him?"
Harmony's mind raced. Even if the curse lifted, she wasn't sure how she would respond.
Maybe she would say it was love.
But no, it was more than that.
It was need. The need for Voldemort to keep breathing, like her life depended on it.
Only silence followed as Neville's eyes continued to search her face for answers.
She could not move. She could not speak. She could not feel anything. But her sight grew cloudy. Water welled up in her eyes until they overflowed, and a single tear dripped down her cheek. Seeing this, Neville stepped back to rejoin Hannah. He got his answer.
"I told you we'll figure something out," assured Harry. "She's the most important thing to him."
Neville nodded in understanding.
The newly engaged couple showed the group to their rooms. One suite was given to the teenagers, another suite to the adults. Scrimgeour requested his own room. Harry joined the adults in one of the suites to discuss their plan of action, while Ron, George, and Ginny offered to retrieve supplies for the wedding.
"We'd appreciate the help," said Hannah. "It won't be a big affair. I only sent out invitations this morning. Just some close friends and…" she smiled sadly, "…what little family remains. Whoever comes tomorrow, comes. Whoever doesn't is probably too afraid to. Not that I blame them."
"Of course," said Ginny, smiling. "We could all use a bit of cheering up, and this wedding is just the ticket."
Hannah and Neville headed back down to the bar, Ron and George behind them. Ginny paused to look back at the others retreating into their rooms.
Scrimgeour held Harmony's shoulder in a white-knuckled grip. He bent his head close to her placid face, his peppered hair brushing her cheek.
"I think it's time you and I had a private chat." Using more force than necessary, he pushed Harmony into his bedroom, making her trip to the floor. He strode in after her and slammed the door closed behind him.
A sickening feeling arose in Ginny's stomach. She paused with bated breath to hear what he was doing to her, but the walls were too thick. After one last, worried glance back, she sighed and followed her brothers down the stairs.