Hermione ran through the streets.
She put a hand to her mouth, stifling the cries that rang from her throat.
Narcissa was dead…and Draco thought she had killed her.
She saw lights in the distance, and without thinking, Hermione followed them blindly, stepping into the road.
She froze when she heard the screeching of tires.
A pair of headlights blinded her.
She screamed as a cab swerved and missed her by inches.
The driver shouted at her and sped away.
Hermione stood paralyzed, blood rushing in her ears.
Keep moving, she told herself.
She hurried onto the pavement.
The street ahead was thick with people.
She had no idea where she was, but maybe she could blend into the crowd, find a way to vanish before the Death Eaters found her…
Panic rose in her chest, and she hurried towards the crowd, looking for somewhere to hide.
Twenty minutes later she ducked into the nearest pub. It was dimly lit, and when her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw that there were two men listening to a radio in the far back.
"Turn it up Ed, will you?" said one of the men suddenly.
Hermione ducked underneath a table.
The radio's dial was turned up, and an announcer's voice carried across the room.
"With Britain isolated from the outside world, food shortages are at an all time high. Families are rationing the little that they have. In the wake of Voldemort's attacks, thousands in Britain are left homeless…"
Hermione turned to look at the door, desperate to think of a proper plan before the Death Eaters found her.
The report continued, interrupting her thoughts.
"So far the British people have endured unimaginable loss and uncertainty. The dark wizard known as Voldemort has blown up factories and shipyards across Britain, hoping to stop the government from manufacturing more weapons. Curfews and mandatory blackouts are enforced as of Tuesday. The Prime Minister hopes the enemy will be unable to find its targets in the darkness, but many argue this will only increase crime…"
Hermione winced as one of her legs began to cramp. She shifted her weight. The reporter went on to list details of the blackouts, then the conversation shifted to London. Apparently, it remained a stronghold against Voldemort's army.
"Thousands have taken to the motorways trying to reach the outskirts of Greater London, only to be turned away. Overcrowding has forced government officials to close the city's borders…"
Hermione froze when she heard the door open, but it was only the bar keeper.
She forced herself to think.
She needed to use her magic to charm a car, a motorbike, anything to get out of here…
She looked at the two men sitting by the radio. One of them had a jumper hanging from the back of his chair.
"Accio," she whispered.
The garment drifted towards her.
She seized it and threw it on, pulling the jumper's hood over her head.
With a final glance at the door, she gathered her courage, and rushed outside.
Pedestrians were hurrying up and down the pavement, eager to return home before the mandatory blackouts started.
According to the reports, street lights were shut off promptly at eight.
A man at the edge of the street was looking at Hermione's pockets, like he hoped to steal something valuable from her.
Hermione swallowed. If they turned all the lights out, she'd have more than the Death Eaters to worry about…
She pulled her hood down so that it covered more of her face, then she set off again.
Many people sat huddled on the streets, wrapped in thick blankets.
They had no homes to go to. Voldemort had destroyed them. A whole block of flats lay in ruins just the next street over. From the looks of it, this city had been attacked before…maybe weeks or months ago.
The ruins of a textile mill were also crumbling, and several street signs hung haphazardly on their posts, looking like they'd crash to the ground at any moment.
Hermione guessed she was somewhere near Glasgow, kilometres away from Inverness.
"HEY! WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING!"
Hermione spun around.
Two Death Eaters stood at the end of the street. They were pushing and shoving past people.
The man yelling at them was swiftly silenced by the flick of a wand.
A clock tower chimed somewhere.
Store windows were promptly covered by thick black curtains.
Doors were locked shut.
The lights on the street started to go out one by one.
Hermione ran, turning left then right again.
She stiffened when she heard the sound of glass breaking.
Across the street two men were breaking into a store, hoping to steal food.
She dove behind a pair of dustbins and did not move an inch.
She swallowed. There was no police presence nearby, and she doubted anyone would come to her aid if she needed help.
When the coast was clear she made a run for it, rushing back to the high street.
In no time she collided with a crowd of people. They were going into the tube stations for the night, seeking refuge from the cold.
Hermione knew it was too late to leave the city. The roads were empty. No one was driving at this hour. If the Death Eaters spotted a vehicle, they'd assume it was her, trying to escape.
She followed the crowd into the nearest station.
They passed a ticket hall then walked down another set of stairs.
There were whole families gathered below, and Hermione saw that people were sleeping on staircases, platforms, and escalators.
It looked like the trains in the city had stopped running long ago.
Hermione made sure her hood was securely in place, then she crouched into a corner.
Conditions were cramped, but she kept to herself, avoiding eye contact with those around her.
She saw that people were making do with what they had, eating bits of stale bread and passing around water.
She froze when she caught sight of a man's muggle newspaper.
Her face was on the cover.
The headline read: "Missing Woman, Last Seen in Inverness." The report went on to claim that she was highly dangerous and should be reported to the nearest authority if spotted.
Hermione guessed Moody was behind this. He didn't trust her anymore, not after she fled with Draco…
Her temples pounded.
Shock and exhaustion had taken their toll on her body. She was clutching so tightly to the wand hidden in her pocket, her knuckles had turned white.
She leaned her head against the wall, reminding herself to breathe. Her eyelids felt heavy. The conversations around her merged into one unintelligible sound. Despite her best efforts, her eyes closed and her body went limp.
Moments later, two figures walked down the station's steps. They wore long, dark robes.
In unison, they raised their wands and whispered, "Incendio."
Hermione was jerked awake by the sound of screams.
She scrambled to her feet, looking around her.
A line of fire had spread from one end of the tunnel to the other.
There was panic and confusion as people rushed for the exits.
The fire spread, climbing up the walls and the escalators.
Hermione coughed violently, trying to find a way out.
Some people caught fire as they collided into one other.
BANG
A large fireball blasted up to the floor above them.
Everyone screamed and ducked down.
A man fell backwards onto the rails.
Hermione flattened herself against the wall, knowing she'd be trampled if she didn't move.
And then she saw them.
Two Death Eaters stood in the middle of the chaos.
Rage coursed through her veins…she wasn't going to run anymore…
She raised her wand, prepared to duel, the last of the fear gone from her body. She refused to die in the fiery coffin they'd made for her.
Two Weeks Later
"There seems to be no end in sight to a war that has taken countless lives, magic and muggle alike. And the search for the missing body of Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, goes on…meanwhile his friend, Hermione Granger, is reported to have killed Narcissa Malfoy and attacked two Death Eaters. Witnesses claim Granger disappeared after the battle at Inverness with You-Know-Who's youngest Death Eater, Draco Malfoy. The two fled shortly after the boy attacked a high ranking Order member. The Order is currently investigating her whereabouts…"
Bill turned off the radio.
His long, red hair was unkempt, and he anxiously tugged at the earring dangling from his left ear.
He felt a pair of eyes on him. He spotted Moody, speaking with Aksel Agarby at the far end of the camp.
They were somewhere south of Greenock. The Magical Alliance was preparing to move again in the morning.
Bill caught Moody looking at him a second time.
He couldn't possibly know…he had taken such pains to remain above suspicion…
He walked to the far end of the camp until he reached his own tent.
He looked behind him to make sure he hadn't been followed, then he opened the flap and ducked inside.
"Lumos," he whispered, illuminating the small space. "You can come out now."
A girl stepped into the light. Her clothes were tattered from days on the road.
There was dirt on her face.
"Did they suspect anything?" Hermione asked.
He shook his head. "No, but you can't stay."
Hermione had spent numerous days on the run, risking her life to find out where the Order was stationed.
Bill folded his arms across his chest. "Why are you here?"
Hermione stepped closer to him."Harry asked me to do something before he died." She gathered her courage, hoping Bill wouldn't turn her over to Moody after she told him the truth. "He wanted me to return to Renwick Abbey. There's something hidden there. Bellatrix knows about it, and she tortured me thinking that I knew what it was. Harry told me to ask Ron for help, but I don't want him to know that I'm here—I was hoping you could talk to him, work out what he knows…"
Bill looked at her darkly. "I've heard rumors about the place. Voldemort doesn't want his own followers to know what's hidden there. He's filled the abbey with curses and enchantments. None of our curse breakers have managed to break through its walls. I've tried myself. Even if Ron tells us what's hidden there, we won't be able to get to it."
Hermione nodded, sitting down on a low, wooden chair.
She had only one option left available to her.
She had to go to London. She had to see if there was any record of Catherine's daughter at Bellefaire Orphanage.
"How did you find me?" Bill asked, interrupting her thoughts.
Hermione looked up at him. "I tracked the Alliance after last week's battle in Glencoe."
In that time her magic had regained its strength, and she was certain she could make the journey to London her own.
She took a steadying breath. "I need your help. I'm meant to do something, find someone…and end all this. I was hoping you could tell me how to get inside London. I know the muggles closed off the city, but—"
"That's ludicrous," Bill interrupted.
"But you always said to come to you if I needed help, if I was ever separated from Ron…"
"But you weren't separated from Ron, were you, Hermione? You ran away with Malfoy at Inverness. And now, it turns out you've killed his mother and two Death Eaters."
Hermione gaped at him. "I didn't kill his mother. As for the two Death Eaters, I dueled them and I managed to escape. They died trapped in a fire, a fire they started—"
Bill interrupted her. "My mother and George are still imprisoned in Greymoor. I need the Order's help to get them out. If Moody finds out I've helped you, it won't be good for me—"
"I should go then," Hermione said, rising out of her seat. "This was a mistake."
Bill was taken aback by her sudden change of mind. "Where will you go?"
"Sebastián and the Arévalos—they'll know what to do. Please don't tell anyone I was here."
Hermione made to move past him, but he blocked her way.
"You're risking too much."
Hermione felt a lump rise in her throat. "I don't have another choice."
Bill was silent for a moment, debating whether to ask her something.
She held his gaze, waiting…
"What happened to Draco, Hermione?"
Her face darkened. She hadn't spoken about him since that night.
"He wanted to protect me from Voldemort…but…he couldn't…"
"Is he dead?" Bill asked.
Hermione felt as though someone had a vice-like grip on her heart. "I don't know…" her voice trembled.
Bill looked at her carefully.
"Does the thought of Malfoy' death pain you?"
"Yes," she said, staring into his eyes.
"Then why did you kill his mother?"
"For the last time I didn't do it!"
"I don't understand anything."
"You don't need to."
Hermione made to leave again but Bill seized her arm, making her stop.
"London isn't the way you remember it."
Hermione laughed bitterly. "Harry told me the same thing."
"Why do you need to go there?"
She hesitated. It was the one thing she couldn't tell him. There was too much at risk.
"It's better if you don't know."
Bill cursed loudly and paced the tent, trying to reason with her. "It's too dangerous…"
"I know that," Hermione said. "If I fly the dementors will catch me, and only the Death Eaters can apparate now—I thought I could charm a car but I've heard the Muggle authorities have checkpoints on every motorway. I'm sure Moody's listed me as some sort of criminal in their records."
"Is that why you came to see me?" Bill asked. "So that I could clear your name in the system?"
Hermione nodded.
"Even if you get inside the city, there's muggles that have lost all sense…angry mobs, they've attacked witches and wizards…killed them."
Hermione looked at him in horror. "The government is allowing that sort violence?"
"They don't have the manpower to control the people, they're too busy fighting Voldemort."
Hermione breathed in deeply, "I know it's dangerous, but I still have to go."
"And how do you intend to get there?"
"I'll have to get a horse, won't I?" she said simply. "Seeing as I have to stay off the motorway."
"It's a week's ride to London!"
"Bill, you don't understand. If I don't make it there, Voldemort will win this war."
He shot her a look of pure frustration. "You're going to have to elaborate a bit more than that."
"It's like I said before, I can't tell you! You have to trust me."
"You're mad," he said, but he knew he couldn't report her to Moody—Ron would know she was here. He'd probably try to help her and get himself killed in the process…
"Keep off the motorway until you reach London," he said, resigned. "Walk to the checkpoint in Watford. The muggle authorities will check your record in the system. Moody listed you as a wanted criminal, but I'll make sure to change that. His plan was for the muggle authorities to collect you, until he could arrest you himself."
Hermione frowned at him. "The muggle government is still working with the Order, then?"
Bill nodded. "Yes, for now at least." He thought for a moment. "I'll list you as a government agent. They'll have to let you pass. But if Moody finds out, he'll have my head—" He pointed to Hermione's wand. "And there's one more thing. You can't take that into the city. They'll think you're working for Voldemort. For now they're only letting high ranking members of the Order and the Alliance through the border to speak to the Prime Minister. All other wizards and witches are questioned, imprisoned…or worse."
"Can't you list me as an Order member, then?"
Bill shook his head. "I don't have that kind of clearance, and Moody would probably find out. Like I said, the most I can do is list you as a government agent—the muggles will think you're one of theirs."
Hermione nodded.
"But be careful," Bill warned. "And don't try to confund the authorities. They've developed ways to detect magic, Hermione."
She stared at him, stunned. "But how—"
"They've learned more than we ever thought possible. The muggle government is playing along with the Alliance until they defeat Voldemort. They plan to allow the Allies into London once they're certain Voldemort's army will attack. But do you really think they'll let us have our secret world once this is over? We've done too much damage this time. Their way of life has been threatened, and the truth is…there's more of them than there are of us."
Hermione nodded, it was true that there were more muggles than there were wizards. And the muggle government's weapons were inflicting just as much damage as Voldemort's curses.
Bill spoke again. "If the muggle government turns against us we're finished. We need to end this now. The Death Eaters are getting more reckless, and Voldemort's obscurement charm is weakening. Hopefully, if he doesn't take the city soon, the muggles will get their planes up in the skies and we'll stand a chance against him."
Bill took Hermione's hand.
"But until then, you have to be very 'll be unarmed in a muggle city without the support of the Order or the Alliance."
Hermione swallowed.
Bill looked at her closely. "I don't know what happened between you and Malfoy, but don't let anything distract you while you're out there. You're dead otherwise."
Hermione nodded. "I know."
Bill moved away from her. "I have to get you that horse, and a few other things. Wait here. I won't be long."
Hermione reached for his arm.
"Thank you Bill," she said, pulling him into a hug before he could leave the tent.
He wrapped his arms around her and she cried into his shoulder, knowing that he was the last friend she would see for a long time.
Britain was stretched to its breaking point.
There were hundreds of people walking along the motorways hoping to reach London, the last holdout against Voldemort's dark army.
Hermione had no money. All she carried on her person was Dolohov's wand and the Founder's book.
She stole food when she had to. She slept in the woods and cast protective enchantments around herself.
She only traveled at night.
When she wasn't riding, she practiced her wandless magic, knowing she'd have to relinquish Dolohov's wand eventually.
She searched the Daily Prophet for news of Draco. She listened to the wizarding wireless network every morning, but none of the reports mentioned him at all.
She often had nightmares of him, and when she couldn't sleep, she thought of Catherine's daughter. She remembered the date in the Founder's book. Catherine had given birth in 1945…that meant her daughter was almost fifty years old. Had this woman integrated herself into wizarding society, or had she remained in hiding all this time? A ghost…
Hermione flipped through the pages of the Founder's Book hoping to find answers, but its pages remained blank, revealing nothing.
She tried to keep a clear head when she was riding, forcing her thoughts of Draco and Catherine to the back of her mind.
She passed city after city, and one night alarms sounded in Langholm, signaling the start of a raid. She kept out of sight, watching as the Magical Alliance attacked Voldemort's forces.
The country was bleeding, and muggle hospitals were packed to the brim with the wounded.
Hermione didn't see how things could go on this way for much longer.
She remembered Bill's words.
Now that the muggles knew the truth…could their two worlds co-exist?
One thing was for certain, she thought.
Things would never go back to the way they were before.
Draco was surrounded by darkness.
He felt a stabbing pain in his body that told him he was still alive.
He had no idea where he was or how he came to be there.
He knew he would be dead soon, and so let his thoughts wander.
Memories of Hermione flooded his mind—the way her hands would stroke his face when she kissed him, the way she'd trace the scars along his back…
Then he remembered those same hands closed over the dagger.
The dagger that had killed his mother.
His vision swam.
She was only defending herself, Draco told himself. You made her stay at your side, you should have let her go…
He had no real family now. His mother was dead, and the girl he loved had killed her.
His hands trembled slightly.
Without Hermione nothing made sense. She had stolen his breath, his life, his sense of purpose…it was like someone had torn out his insides and left him to bleed.
Draco felt like he was dead already, but for some reason he remained alive…
Hour after hour.
Day after day…
Until one night, he heard the sound of a door opening.
A strip of light revealed that he was in a dungeon, in a small, cramped cell.
Draco's breath caught when he heard footsteps approaching.
"Lumos," said a silky voice.
An old wizard emerged, holding his wand aloft.
It was Edevane.
His white hair was tied back into its usual ponytail. He wore his knee-length leather coat, snakeskin shoes, and his ice blue eyes penetrated Draco's grey ones, promising the worst was yet to come.
He walked closer to him, supporting his weight on a golden cane.
The ceiling in the dungeon was so low Edevane had to crouch down to enter it. He produced a chair with his wand, then threw his coat back with a flourish, letting it fall behind him as he sat down.
Edevane had the air of a count arriving unannounced for tea, and Draco felt much like his unwilling host.
As a child Draco had heard stories about him — the only surviving member of the Original Seven—the first group of wizards to take the Dark Mark.
He had feared him then, but not anymore.
His mother's last days had been filled with torment and fear because of this man, and all because of his twisted obsession…
Draco took in Edevane's appearance. He smiled in a twisted sort of way. There were no specks of dirt or blood tainting his clothes, as could be found on Bellatrix, Yaxley or the other Death Eaters. His white hair was combed back meticulously, his body was free of scars and he had the air of one who was on his way to an extravagant party.
It was as if the world was not falling apart around him.
Edevane stared at Draco intently, twirling his wand in his hand, as if he were about to cast a spell.
Draco was careful not to betray any emotion.
He knew Edevane was not the most skilled duelist, the old man relied on his sharp mind and clever schemes to acquire what he wanted.
Intelligence, slyness and manipulation. Those were his weapons.
He had an appreciation for music and the arts. He enjoyed glittering jewels and lavish parties. He took comfort in wealth, while Voldemort took comfort in blood and power.
Edevane rapped on the bars of the cell with his cane, interrupting Draco's thoughts.
"Everyone believes you are dead, Mr. Malfoy. Your father…Bellatrix…the Dark Lord himself…they think I've killed you."
It took a few moments for Draco to process the new information.
"I don't understand," he said slowly.
"You were taken to Greymoor and sentenced to death. I was given the task of killing you. You should know, your father fought fiercely to protect you, claiming the mudblood girl had bewitched you. But the Dark Lord knew better, as did I."
Edevane laughed.
"I took you away, while the Dark Lord was called to more important matters. One of my men tortured you, very close to the point of death…afterwards, I gave you a potion that stilled your breath and slowed your heart. I presented your body to the Dark Lord. He did not bother to look at you too closely. Why would he? What interest would I have in keeping you alive?"
Draco wondered the same thing. Whatever the reason, he knew he would not like it.
"He ordered me to dispose of your body, but instead I brought you here, to my estate." Edevane gestured around him. "You belong to me now." He grinned. "I kept your mother in this same cell."
Draco cursed at him and fought against his binds, but Edevane clicked his tongue disapprovingly.
"Settle down, Mr. Malfoy," he warned. "There are more important matters to discuss.
He leaned back in his chair. "I've seen the future. If the Dark Lord continues on his current path, it will be the ruin of our world. He has gone too far this time, and he underestimates the enemy…he will drag the entire country into hell. It can very well mean the end of wizard-kind."
Draco was suddenly very still. "What do you mean, you've seen the future?"
"I had a vision decades ago, as a student at Hogwarts. I saw what Tom Riddle would become, and how his war would end. But the future is not set in stone. We can change it."
Edevane's face loomed before his."You can change it."
"Me?" Draco asked, bewildered. What do you need me for?"
"You will take your father's place."
Draco looked at him uneasily.
"The Dark Lord uses your family's wealth to fund his army, and so he maintains your father at his side—despite your betrayal."
Edevane presented him with a small flask. He took off the cap and waved it under Draco's nose. A familiar smell met Draco's nostrils.
Polyjuice potion.
"The Dark Lord will attack London in a few days' time. When that happens you will drink this potion, and usurp your father's place. You will lead the highest ranking Death Eaters into a trap. I will place you at the proper place, at the proper moment…"
Draco looked at him in disbelief. "You want to see the Dark Lord fall?"
Edevane nodded. "Do not fret, young Draco, there are others hard at work to ensure all goes well." Edevane leaned in conspiratorially. "And I have a secret weapon the Dark Lord knows not of."
Draco sneered at him. "I don't care about you or your plans."
Edevane's easy manner melted away.
"And what of your mudblood?" Edevane asked, his voice suddenly cold and menacing. "You love her still…"
Draco tried to appear indifferent, but he knew Edevane had already seen into his mind.
"If you do not take your father's place, I will kill her myself…and it will be a slow death, one that I will take much pleasure in."
Draco fought the urge to rage at him again.
Instead, he held his tongue and remained still.
He wanted Hermione to be free, despite everything.
And before the war was over he would kill Eedvane.
Of that, he was certain.
Draco looked up at the old wizard. "I'll do it," he said. "I'll help you destroy Voldemort."
Edevane smiled his twisted smile. "We have an accord then, Mr. Malfoy."
Hermione crossed the English border and rode through Manchester, Birmingham and Northampton, eventually reaching Watford.
She dismounted her horse in the outskirts of the city.
She looked down at Dolohov's wand.
It was time to relinquish it.
She was almost glad to let it go. Using a dead man's wand made her feel uneasy, like it was cursed somehow.
She buried the wand in the ground, drawing a marker over it so she could find it again if necessary.
She turned to her horse, muttering a spell, and compelled it to hide in the woods.
Once she was ready, Hermione made her way to the nearest motorway. It was filled with people, and there were queues that went on for miles.
Some people were driving, and others were on foot, keeping to one side of the road.
Everyone was stopped at a checkpoint.
Armed guards stepped out of booths to check identification cards. They turned many people away, refusing to let them pass the barriers.
Hermione heard a voice over a loudspeaker. "If you are not a resident of Hertfordshire or London, you will not be permitted to pass—these zones are at capacity…anyone who does not comply will be arrested."
It was almost twenty four hours before Hermione was able to speak with anyone. She hadn't slept or eaten, and her nerves were on edge.
A short, red-headed guard stepped out of a booth to meet her.
"Name?"
"Hermione Jean Granger."
"Residence?"
"11 Eastmore Drive, Hampstead."
"Why did you leave London?"
"I was away—on government assignment. I wasn't able to return until now."
She made herself stand taller, trying to appear older.
"Identification?"
"Of course," she said.
She handed over the fake documents Bill had given her.
The guard returned to his booth.
Hermione's heart pounded heavily, but her face was the perfect mask of calm, as if this was a minor inconvenience she had to deal with.
The guard stepped out again a moment later, casting a suspicious glance her way.
"There's no record of you attending school since you were eleven. And says here you've been reported missing by your superiors."
Hermione saw him lock eyes with the guard across the way. "Send me Patterson. Hurry."
She blanched. Had Bill changed his mind? Why hadn't he changed her status in the system? Maybe something had delayed him…
Her mind worked furiously.
She couldn't apparate past the guards. Voldemort had made that impossible. And even if she had something as useful as Harry's invisibility cloak, she suspected there were sensors installed all around them. They would pick up her body heat…and the authorities would track her movements in no time.
Hermione crossed her arms.
She couldn't confund the guards either. She knew the place was tapped, and there were cameras everywhere. Government staff were likely listening to their conversation remotely. If the guard granted her access too easily, they'd send someone else to investigate before she could make it through. She'd likely be imprisoned.
She turned to the red-headed man again. "There has to be a mistake. Check the system again. I'm with domestic intelligence. I was on assignment."
He returned to his booth.
Sweat trickled down Hermione's forehead.
She stood there for several minutes, trying to appear indignant instead of frightened.
"Tell Patterson to hold," the guard told his partner suddenly. He turned to Hermione. "It says here you're checked in at Manchester."
"Is that correct?"
"Yes," she said quickly.
Maybe Bill had done something…
The guard raised the barrier and let her through.
"Follow me, please."
Hermione hurried after him.
He made her pass through a scanner, and when he was satisfied that she carried no weapons, magic or muggle, he motioned for her to walk a bit further.
They passed dozens of small sheds. Hermione guessed they were used to store equipment and weapons.
The guard stopped in front of one of them.
He held the door open for her.
"Go in," he told her.
Hermione saw that it was empty inside.
She looked at the guard, appalled. "I thought I was free to go."
"You will be, in three hours."
"I don't understand."
The guard seized Hermione's arm and threw her in. "We need to confirm you haven't taken appearance-altering substances."
Hermione's mouth fell open.
Polyjuice potion. The muggles knew about Polyjuice potion.
He raised a camera and there was a loud snap as he took a picture of her.
"If your appearance remains the same, you'll be free to go." He looked down at his watch. "Three hours."
He shut the door in her face.
Hermione didn't move.
Bill was right. The muggles had learned too much. Or maybe they had been investigating the intricacies of the wizarding world for years…
The thought sent a chill down her spine.
The hours ticked by and Hermione tried not to panic in the confined space. There was hardly enough room to sit, and her stomach growled. She hadn't eaten anything in hours.
Eventually the guard returned and opened the door.
She raised a hand to shield her eyes as a strip of sunlight fell across her face.
The guard tugged her arm down.
There was a flash as he snapped a second picture of her, blinding her further.
"You're free to go," he said. "And you'd do well to head home before dark."
She moved past him without a second glance.
It would be a long walk to Harrow, maybe two hours if she hurried, and then she would be in London at last.
It was like Bill and Harry had said. The city was not as she remembered it.
Terror seized her body the deeper she went into London.
Two men were hanging in the square in front of her, the word "demon" carved into their chests.
The two wizards look no older than twenty, Hermione thought, sick to her stomach.
The authorities did not cut down the bodies, for fear the mobs would turn on them. Most of Britain's soldiers were away patrolling the border or fighting in the war, which meant that on the streets, chaos reigned.
Hermione kept to herself, walking down the cobblestoned path that led to Bellefaire Orphanage.
She has asked several people for directions, but only one man stopped to point out the way.
Hermione recognized the building as it loomed closer, surrounded by its high railings and iron gate.
It felt surreal to walk to a place she'd only seen in someone else's memory.
It had not changed much over the years, and it looked like the orphanage had been evacuated long ago, probably in the wake of Voldemort's first attacks—before the muggles knew how to defend themselves.
The windows were boarded up, and the grey paint was peeling, giving it an overall, grim appearance.
The iron gate was left open, beckoning Hermione inside.
She was not keen to retrace Tom Riddle's footsteps. There was a sinister air about the place, like it was cursed.
Hermione passed through the courtyard and used wandless magic to open the door, making sure the street behind her was empty.
She inhaled clouds of dust when she stepped inside. She covered her mouth with her sleeve, coughing.
It looked like the place had been abandoned in a hurry. Chairs were toppled over and things lay strewn across the floor.
The door banged shut behind her.
Hermione was plunged into darkness, and she reached for the wall, feeling her way along the corridor.
She knocked into a table, then a chair.
Frustrated, she began to rip the boards away from the windows.
Sunlight filtered into the room, and small dust motes floated up into the ceiling.
Hermione passed old dormitories, classrooms and a dining hall. Everything was covered in thick layers of dust.
Her shoes left footprints on the wooden floors.
She kept walking until she reached a door at the end of the hall.
There was a dilapidated sign hanging on it. It read: Matrons Office.
Hermione pushed the door open.
Inside there was a desk, empty bookshelves and a few wooden chairs.
She went into the room next door and saw that the walls were lined with filing cabinets.
Her pulse quickened.
This must be the records office. She had to check the names for every child born in 1945.
She pulled open drawers and found admission registers, ledgers and medical documents.
She searched for hours, but her hopes fell when she saw the files only dated back forty years.
Had someone destroyed the older documents, or were they in another room?
There was a sudden bang.
Hermione froze.
She fled the office and made her way back to the main hall.
"Is someone there?!" she called.
No answer.
She went down the corridor, opening doors and searching rooms.
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe something had fallen—
Her blood ran cold when she heard the swish of a cloak, and then footsteps behind her.
Hermione spun around.
A tall figure approached her. "It seems Ms. Granger, you have found me at last."
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Much more to come in the next chapter ;) And to those who have recently joined from HPFF, welcome! I hope you're enjoying the story :) Reviews highly appreciated!