"Come on, Neville, give it one more go," Ginny encouraged her friend as the four of them sat outside in the sunlight on a Saturday afternoon.

Off to the side, Hermione lounged on a rock soaking in the brief warmth before it vanished behind the growing clouds. Today was the first day in weeks the sun had been strong enough to peek through the constant cloud cover and, taking a break from her endless hours spent cooped up the library searching for answers or being tortured in the halls by the Carrows, decided to joined her three friends outside to help Neville practice casting his Patronus. Despite the brief patch of sunlight, the now late October weather was still bitterly cold – all of them wearing their scarves knitted so thoughtfully by Mrs. Weasley throughout the years. The Dementors' constant presence on the grounds of the castle turned the chill numbing at times.

"It's no good, Ginny! I don't have any strong enough memories," Neville grumbled, sinking down to the pebbled shore of the Black Lake. His defeated gaze wondered to the blonde standing knee deep in the water attempting to call the mermaids to their aid. Supposedly, the merfolk had a secret power of being able to transform the water they lived in into an elixir for happiness. Supposedly. Hermione found the girl's persistence heartening, but Ginny's patience wore thin with the girl's naivety. It had been already two weeks since Professor Black introduced Patronuses in class and most of the class by now had managed to pass the requirement, but Neville was still unable to create a full-bodied guardian.

"Luna, come out of the water. Stay in there long enough, the squid will get you," Ginny called to the other sixth-year.

"No, he won't, Leonard wouldn't pull me in. Not unless I started singing old Scottish tunes, at least. So, no one sing, please," she answered with a calm smile. Behind the girl, Hermione and Neville attempted to keep their chuckles low and hidden as Ginny rolled her brown eyes exasperatedly.

"What a load of rubbish…"

"Oh, you think so, Weasley girl?"

Three of the four students jumped at the sudden appearance of their professor emerging from the dark tree line behind them. Luna merely looked back with an airy smile. "Good afternoon, Professor," she greeted, unfazed.

"Afternoon, Luna. Any luck with the merfolk?" Black inquired casually, shifting the basket she carried under her arm. The woman smirked, her ruby lips lifting slightly in one corner and her black eyes gleaming with a glint of mischief at the astonished look of the redhead at her nonchalant manner of questioning the girl's actions.

"None yet," Luna responded, oblivious to the stupefaction of her friend. "I think Leonard is keeping them away; he can be awfully jealous when I try to speak with them and not him."

"Hmm, that's unfortunate. But you should come out of the water before you catch cold; Madam Pomfrey would never forgive such reckless disregard for health." Heeding the professor's words, Luna returned to dry land. "Fret not, Longbottom. Merfolk are not the only answers to your current troubles." Hermione watched the professor step forward from the shadows created by the edge of the forest and into the dissipating sunlight. "The problem is much more easily resolved than you seem to think. Weasley, Luna, would you mind performing the charm for Longbottom's benefit?" Black requested.

Luna, now back on the shore, cast the charm with Ginny. A warm feeling spread through Hermione as the silvery-white hare hopped along and a ghostly horse galloped around their little sanctuary away from the school.

"Excellent. Now, tell us, what memory does each of you use to perform the corporeal form of your Patronus?"

"I use the memory of my father and me searching for the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks over the summer," Luna said brightly, her eyes far away as they followed her hare.

Black nodded approvingly and looked to Ginny. The redhead blushed slightly but answered all the same. "My first kiss with Harry," she said softly.

"And you, Granger? Your memory?" Black, inquisitive eyes turned to her and Hermione felt as if they burrowed deep into her soul, searching for the answer in her eyes before she could speak it.

"My parents and I camping," she answered quickly, turning her eyes to Neville, the lake, anywhere but the piercing gaze of the professor. Could she discover my secrets just by looking at me? She wondered with panic rising in her throat and her heart beat accelerating to an alarming rate. I don't dare doubt it…

"Now, Longbottom, your turn. What's your memory?"

"When I cultivated the first boils from my own Bubotuber plant over fifth year," the young man answered sheepishly. Despite his obvious affinity for Herbology, Neville did not often discuss his passion openly with those outside his friend group and Professor Sprout.

Nodding to herself, Black's gaze drifted to the dark, rippling water of the lake. "As strong as the memory of a passion of yours can be, it is not strong enough to create a full-bodied Patronus, most likely only a shield. What is the difference between your memory and those of the girls?"

"Ummm… theirs have people?" he answered unsurely.

"Precisely. Their memories involve the people that they care about and love deeply. Love is a key emotion to casting the Patronus." Turning from her students, the professor made to leave them and return to the darkness of the forest from which she had appeared. "Do not forget, Longbottom, the casting of the charm is due the same day as the essay on the Patronus Charm – in three days. Be quick about finding a suitable memory. I believe Granger may have a trick that could help you out." With those words, the dark witch disappeared through the trees and the students were left puzzled. Well, all except Luna, who had returned to the water and the gurgling sounds she made to call the merfolk.

"What does she mean, Hermione? What do you know?" Neville asked pleadingly. This could be his only chance to pass the unit – he needed this to become an Auror, someone powerful and strong enough to fulfill his greatest wish.

Meeting her friend's gaze as openly as she could, Hermione answered honestly. "I have no idea, Neville. I really don't."


Neville still can't perform his Patronus. I fear he may not pass, but school is really the least of our problems. I truly think that if he could manage it, it would help his sense of worth. Muggle Studies is still quite as unconventional as before. The Art of Dueling resembles more the opposite of Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Hermione paused in her writing. She hated keeping information from her friends, but she understood that if she told them that the Carrows often used the Cruciatus Curse on them during class and were teaching them the Dark Arts in order to transform them into minions for Voldemort, she knew it would only distract them from their mission. They still hadn't managed to finalise a plan on how to break into Gringotts and the delay dampened their morale greatly. Harry had finally decided Malfoy deserved to know the secret of the Horcruxes, and the blond agreed that it sounded as if that was what was hidden in the Black Vault.

Research has been less than fruitful, unfortunately. Not even the Restricted Section has any mention of Horcruxes. I fear I may have to ask a professor, but I also fear the consequences of asking the wrong one. I plan on visiting Tomes and Scrolls during the next Hogsmeade trip. Hopefully, they will have something. Any luck on your end? I still say you should hide under the invisibility cloak and follow Draco.

Hermione sighed. She knew her boys well enough to know they would soon be getting impatient. Impatience would then lead to some foolish plan that would either get them caught or worse, and Hermione would not be there to get them out of trouble.

To her surprise, beneath her neat writing, another script began to appear.

Hermione, we have currently put aside our plans for entering Gringotts in favour of something more immediate – not ten minutes ago, Ron was exploring the upstairs of Grimwald Place and found an answer we've been searching for! R. A. B. was Sirius's brother, Regulus Arcturus Black! He and Harry are currently interrogating the house elf, Kreature, hoping he will know more of the whereabouts of the real locket and if it was destroyed. We may have to search the house; it doesn't sound like the elf wants to be helpful.

Make a trade! Give him the fake locket for information on the real one. He is a living being with feelings and rights. Make sure the boys treat him correctly and with respect.

Hermione wrote quickly, this was the first time she had caught one of the three while they were in proximity to the journal. It felt nice to have a two-way conversation for once.

Good idea, I'll tell them. I'll write back soon with more updates. Stay away from the Carrows, Hermione; they're of the worst sort. They're both insane and revel in torture. Only my aunt and the Dark Lord himself rival their skills with the Cruciatus Curse. Talk soon – Draco.

P.S. Harry agrees about the sword, but we all insist on caution; with Snape and the Carrows involved, being caught could prove deadly.

The brunette sighed and passed a hand through her hair. This is good… something, at least. She hoped beyond hope that Kreature knew something about the locket – best case scenario, he watched Regulus destroy it.

But she doubted it. That seemed too easy with the luck they'd been having lately.


The next morning found Hermione is a dismal mood. She never ceased to be amazed by the wonders of irony. Here she was in the place she had always loved, surrounded by books and mountains of knowledge, but none of it helped her current situation.

Ginny and Neville sat across from her at the Gryffindor table, both equally as put out. Hermione knew Ginny was missing and worrying about Harry much more than she admitted to anyone, including herself. Neville remained preoccupied with his Patronus dilemma, which made Hermione feel worse. Professor Black seemed to think she had the answers, but for the life of her, she knew nothing! She couldn't force Neville to think of a happy memory any more than she could invent one for him.

Above them, the owls swooped around the Great Hall delivering the morning post. Neville nearly spilled his pumpkin juice as a large tawny owl swooped low over his head and let drop the morning edition of The Daily Prophet. With her quick Chaser reflexes, Ginny caught the scroll before it landed in her cereal.

"Really, Neville? You still subscribe to the Prophet?" she asked, placing the newspaper between them.

"It's Gran. She thinks there may be some truth in it. I think it's more her habit of reading the Prophet. I don't read the blasted thing; so full of lies!"

"Mind if I take a look then? At the very least we'll know what sort of gossip is circulating through the Ministry," Hermione said, taking the paper at Neville's nod. Opening it, Hermione grimaced at the first headline – Muggle-born Registration: Know the Weak, Praise the True. To her horror, the entire article described the Ministry's efforts to compile a list of all Muggle-borns in and out of Hogwarts and keep track of their goings-on and whereabouts, claiming that they feared a coup from the "weaker members of the magical society".

It's bloody disgusting… Hermione thought, her face wrinkled in disdain.

Directly beneath the article, was a picture of the individuals overseeing the registration of the Muggle-borns and suspected Half-bloods. Deloris Umbridge's pudgy face stared back her in perfect black and white. Hermione suspected that the light grey of her robes in the picture were truly the ghastly pink the witch was so fond of.

She wore a look of utter superiority, standing between Yaxley and Thicknesse, the new Minister. Standing between such tall men, her dumpiness was put into evidence, which gave Hermione reason to smirk callously.

Hermione was about to turn the page when something small and seemingly insignificant caught her eye. She leaned closer for a better look. Hanging low around the witch's thick neck, hung Salathar Slytherin's locket. Hermione could not believe her eyes. Grabbing the paper in her fist, she leaped from the table, not stopping to answer her friends' surprised outbursts.

Running from the hall, Hermione could only think of writing to the boys and informing them of her new discovery.

So engrossed was she in her plan that Hermione was not paying attention to what lay in front of her until she ran smack into a soft body turning around the corner.

"Oi, Granger, watch where you're going!" Professor Black barked, using her wand to pick up the stack of papers that had fallen from her arms. "Where're you off to in such a hurry?"

"Just to the common room, Professor; forgot something. Sorry!" Hermione yelled back over her shoulder. In her hurry, she missed the professor's grumbling of "bloody teenagers always in a hurry, running through the halls…"

Hermione took the steps two at a time and practically yelled the password to the portrait of the Fat Lady once she set foot on the landing. She ran through the common room and up to her solitary room. Warding her door behind her quickly, she pulled out the journal from its hiding place in a secret compartment of her trunk.

Umbridge has the locket! Find a copy of today's Daily Prophet, her picture is on the front page and she's wearing the locket!

Hermione wrote as fast as she could. She did not expect an immediate answer and planned to come back during lunch to check, but found the boys must have been planning to write to her as well when she saw the apparition of black writing beneath her own.

Blimey! Brilliant, 'Mione! You just answered the question that I was to write you. Kreature told us someone came in the night Moody died and stole a bunch of stuff from the house. Turns out, it was Dung. Dobby and Kreature found the wanker and brought him back. He said he gave it away to 'some Ministry hag' who was going to lock him up for not having a licence to sell in Diagon. I suppose his description was bloody accurate enough, eh? I'll tell the others and Harry'll go out with the Cloak for a copy of the Prophet. Sounds like one mystery down and one more brought up – how to get the locket from the Toad? But we'll figure it out; we have you and your brain on the job! Talk tonight, Harry just got in with food – Ron.

Elated by their sudden success, Hermione erased the messages and placed the book back. How were they to get the locket from the witch? The most obvious solution would be to break into her house and steal it, but something told her that Umbridge would have about as many wards on her home as Hogwarts did.

Her brain once again filled with a new problem, Hermione left her room before she was late to Transfiguration.