Hermione found herself standing in a dark, open meadow, without so much as a dirt road in sight. She glanced over at Mr. Weasley, confused. Had they Apparated to the wrong place?

"Welcome back to the Burrow," he said, gesturing dramatically towards an unremarkable section of the field.

The ground began to shake. Hermione took two quick steps backward, holding Crookshanks tightly. The tall grasses parted in front of her, creating a large clearing, and then from its centre rose five stout chimneys, swiftly followed by a precariously sloped roof. Hermione stared in awe as the roof rose higher and higher, and the remainder of the Burrow emerged from the ground.

"Remarkable the first time, isn't it?" Mr. Weasley said, smiling, as a garden sprouted along the house's near side.

"Is that a Fidelius Charm?" Hermione asked.

The smile faded from Mr. Weasley's face. He looked around quickly, and then ushered her forward. "Best that you get inside. Molly's just in the kitchen, she'll get you settled."

The inside of the Burrow was scarcely brighter than the meadow outside. Hermione had been there many times, but she still nearly tripped over an ottoman as she made her way towards the kitchen.

"I'm so sorry about this, Hermione, you must be exhausted."

Mrs. Weasley walked out of the kitchen, her wand casting light around the hall. She hugged Hermione, and then turned her around and began to lead her up the stairs. "Here, let me carry the bags. We'll talk in the morning, you just get some rest."

She pushed open the door to Ginny's room. Moonlight was trickling through the window, illuminating Ginny's bed, but she was snoring lightly, sound asleep.

"Arthur will be up a while longer if you need anything, dear."

Hermione thanked Mrs. Weasley, and closed the door as quietly as she could. Then she sank onto the bed, finally letting her tiredness catch up with her. In the half hour between Mr. Weasley's letter and his arrival, she'd had to pack her bags, find Crookshanks, wake up her parents, and try to convince them not to worry, all while she was growing increasingly worried herself. She'd always hated not understanding things, and it was becoming more and more clear ever since her trip to Diagon Alley that there were some very big, very dangerous things going on that she didn't understand in the slightest.

"So why are you here?" Ginny whispered.

Hermione jumped. "I don't know," she said, her heart racing. "I got an owl from your dad, and now here I am."

"You didn't really think I was asleep, did you?" Ginny smirked, the sheets rustling as she sat up. "I'd bet anything Ron and the twins are up too, but Mum's been on the warpath lately because of everything going on, so I doubt they'll risk coming down here now."

"What's going on?" Hermione whispered back, praying that Ginny would explain. "Does this have to do with why I was brought here tonight?"

"I can't tell you that," Ginny replied.

She reached over and lit a candle on her bedside table.

"Can't, or won't? If you're still mad, Ginny, I understand, but we should really..."

Ginny held up her hand, cutting Hermione off. She walked over to the door, knelt down, and beckoned Hermione over to join her.

"See this?" she asked, pointing at something on the ground.

A small coil of pale string lay on the floor, with one end running through the crack under the door.

"It's an Extendable Ear," Ginny explained. "Fred and George invented them a couple weeks ago, and we've been using them to listen in on things ever since. They're the only reason we knew you'd be coming here tonight. We think Mum and Dad have started getting wise to them, though."

"They actually work?" Hermione asked, surprised that the twins had come up with something practical for once.

"Yeah. Problem is," Ginny said, now speaking directly into the end of the string, "some people still haven't learned to keep their noses out of private conversations."

She snapped her fingers loudly right next to the Extendable Ear, and then tossed it underneath the door and out into the hall.

"So is it that you can't tell me what's going on, or just that you don't want to?" Hermione asked, once Ginny had climbed back under the sheets.

"I'm not still mad at you, if that's what you're asking. I may be enjoying being the one with all the answers for once, but if I was allowed to tell you anything, I swear I would."

Hermione exhaled. "I assumed you were still furious, because you didn't write to me. You got my note, didn't you?"

Ginny nodded. "I didn't write to you because there wasn't anything to say. I stopped being mad after the maze, but I didn't exactly feel like apologizing. Still don't, but… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have hexed you."

"Tried to hex me, you mean."

Ginny glared at her. "I may be sorry, but don't think I won't do it again."

Hermione smiled. "I would never think that." She paused, thinking very carefully about what she wanted to say next. "The advice I gave you was always what I thought was best, I promise you that. I was never trying to manipulate you, but I understand how it might have felt. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you when I started to realize how I felt about Harry, I owed you that. I just got so caught up in—"

"In the emerald green eyes. In that stupid messy black hair." Ginny sighed. "Trust me, Hermione, I understand."

"I guess you do," Hermione said quietly. "I hope you still trust me enough to talk to me about stuff like this in the future."

"I've got six brothers, who else would I go to? Oh, and speaking of brothers, I should warn you…"


The next morning seemed to come far too soon. Hermione let herself sleep in, but she was still exhausted when she finally went downstairs for breakfast.

"Mum, you didn't tell us Hermione was here!" one of the twins shouted, winking at her. "When did you get here?"

"Very early this morning. I'm still not entirely sure why," she added.

"We can discuss that after you eat," Mrs. Weasley said, sliding a plate of eggs, beans, and toast over to an open spot at the table.

That was all the motivation that Hermione needed to dig in to breakfast. She had only gotten a few bites in when the twins finished theirs, and to her shock, they walked over to the sink and began scrubbing their plates clean.

"You two are up awfully early," she said, setting her fork down for a moment.

"Got to make the most of every day," one of them said cheerfully, lifting a dirty pan straight from Mrs. Weasley's hands. "Isn't that right, George?"

"Couldn't be more true, Fred," echoed the other as he cleared the drying rack with a flick of his wand.

Hermione shook her head as she returned to her meal. The last time she'd been at the Burrow, neither of them had ever been awake before nine o'clock, and they certainly hadn't been doing dishes. They could do them with magic now, she supposed, but it was still decidedly out of character.

Ron and Mr. Weasley both entered the kitchen as she was finishing breakfast, the latter carrying a large stack of papers.

"Hermione, I didn't know you would be here!" Ron exclaimed, a little bit too enthusiastically.

"Well, neither did I."

"I'm sorry again about last night," Mr. Weasley began, sitting down at the head of the table. "It's probably nothing, but we thought it best not to take any risks."

"Did something happen?"

"Not exactly. We were just concerned that once Rita knew your location, that information might spread to others."

"Like the Death Eaters?" Hermione asked.

"Probably not," Mr. Weasley said quickly, but Hermione found that awfully difficult to believe, especially given what Tonks had told her about people going missing. "Other journalists, more likely, or members of the—"

"Hold on," Ron interjected, looking up from his plateful of sausages. "How d'you two know about Rita? I just got Hermione's owl late last night, and I hadn't mentioned it yet. Have you been reading my mail?"

His parents exchanged guilty glances that would have made Mundungus proud.

"Not all of it," Mrs. Weasley said, putting her hands up in defence. "And you know who to blame for that."

Ron scowled, but to Hermione's surprise he didn't immediately press the issue.

"So was the Fidelius Charm placed on the house because of Rita?" Hermione asked, not wanting the conversation to be derailed.

"In part," Mr. Weasley said. "It's a legal matter, really. With the trial so close, it's sensible to prevent any possibility of interference."

"Interference?"

Mr. Weasley hesitated, seemingly unsure how to answer.

"Does this have to do with whatever else is going on?" Hermione pressed. "I know something is up, Ron's dodged my questions all summer about what you've all been doing."

Mrs. Weasley stepped away from her supervision of George's dishwashing and sat down next to Mr. Weasley.

"I know this has been frustrating, dear," she said, meeting Hermione's eyes, "but please don't keep thinking about all this. I promise you, there's a good reason why we can't tell you everything right now. Please just trust us."

"I'm sorry, but they're right about this, Hermione," Ron said. "I know it's driving you crazy, but it won't be for that much longer."

"Mum and Dad always know best," George chimed in from the other side of the room, causing Ron to roll his eyes.

It was taking all of Hermione's willpower to not be outwardly annoyed. She had been sure that upon getting here, she'd finally be filled in on everything she'd missed, but instead she was being stonewalled. It didn't make any sense! If this was just about protecting her from the truth about the disappearances that Tonks had mentioned, then why did Ron get to know everything? She wanted to keep pushing, but she was pretty sure the Weasleys wouldn't tell her anything, no matter how much she asked. If it were anybody else, she probably would have pushed anyway, but ultimately, as frustrated as she was, she knew they had her best interests at heart.

"All right," Hermione finally said. "I won't ask any more questions for now. I probably have enough other things to worry about at the moment, anyway."

That brought the conversation to a close, and with breakfast over, everybody headed their separate ways. Hermione followed Ron upstairs, still wanting to catch up with him on any topics that he was allowed to talk about.

"Can I get your advice on something?" he asked once they got up to his room.

Hermione nodded, remembering a second too late what Ginny had warned her about.

Ron walked over to the windowsill and picked up a small stack of pink envelopes. He tore one open, grimaced at the letter inside, and then handed it to her.

Against her better judgement, Hermione read the first line (My most precious Won-Won) and immediately averted her eyes.

"What are you giving me this for? I'm not reading this!"

"I get one every day," Ron said, taking the letter back. "She panics if she doesn't get one from me, too. That's half the reason I was so slow writing you back all summer, I couldn't send Pig in two directions at once."

"How very romantic," Hermione said dryly.

"Yeah, well, not any more. She doesn't even have anything to say, it's just this… weird lovey stuff, and it keeps going and going and going! You have to help me get rid of her, Hermione, I can't take it any more."

"You seemed to manage just fine all year," Hermione said, unimpressed. "It's a remarkable coincidence that this is only bothering you now that the two of you aren't snogging all the time."

"Oh come on," Ron said, turning red, "Like you went to the ball with Krum because of the conversation."

"Well yes, actually!" Hermione protested. "But that's not important. I assume you've tried telling her that you want to break up?"

Ron nodded. "Two days ago. Then yesterday, I got two letters instead of one. Two different letters, mind you. Today I got four. What if it's eight tomorrow? What if she just never bloody gives up?"

"All right, I'll help you. But only because I'll throw up if I walk in on the two of you in that common-room one more time. Write her back and tell her you've met someone else. Someone from Beauxbatons, preferably."

"Brilliant, thanks Hermione. You're a life-saver."

Hermione did her best to smile. Her eyes drifted to the far wall of Ron's room, against which a stack of Harry's possessions was leaning.

"Sirius still hasn't come by," Ron said, following her gaze. "He's holed up in some house Harry's grandparents used to own. Hasn't left it in weeks, supposedly."

"Is he talking to anyone?"

Ron shook his head. "I brought all Harry's stuff over to him a while back, hoped he might change his mind once he saw it, but he wouldn't open the door for me. Wasn't rude or anything, he just wanted no part of it."

He hesitated a moment, and then said, "I wish he'd taken it, having it all here feels like living with a ghost somehow. Especially since usually Harry'd be right there."

Ron pointed at where the room's second bed would have been.

"Sirius would probably feel the same way," Hermione replied. "Especially being alone. Just give him time."

There was a loud 'pop' and then Fred and George appeared on either side of Ron.

"Complaining about Lav-Lav again, were we?" one of them said, putting his arm around Ron's shoulders. "You've got to be louder, or that crazy guy who lives over the hill might not hear you next time."

"I told you not to Apparate in here," Ron protested, wriggling away from the twins.

"George and I thought you'd want to see this as soon as possible," the second twin said, passing Ron a wand. The instant Ron touched it, it transformed into an enormous spider, causing him to shriek and throw it across the room.

"Brilliant," the twins laughed, "we thought you'd like it."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Are you two still going on with all this?"

They'd been designing and testing various joke items for an entire year now, much to the annoyance of people who actually wanted to get work done in the common-room.

"Better than ever," Fred said. "We'll be starting full-time after Christmas."

"Full-time?"

"We think we've learned all we can from Hogwarts," George said. "We were originally going to wait until we graduated, to keep Mum and Dad happy, but things have changed. Life is short, so why waste another year on school?"

Hermione opened her mouth, ready to lecture them both on the importance of finishing their education, but Ron spoke first.

"This is why they've been buttering up Mum and Dad. Not that it's going to work," he added.

"Have some faith in your big brothers," Fred said. "Why do you think our store's front window will be prominently featuring revolutionary household cleaning tools and Muggle magic tricks?"

"You have a physical store?" Hermione cut in, bewildered. "Where on Earth did you get the money?"

"Ah, that we can't tell you," George said, tapping the side of his nose. "Top secret. Investor-entrepreneur confidentiality, you know."

"You do know that doesn't even exist," Hermione said.

"Anyway, we should be off," Fred said. "Those Fainting Fancies won't test themselves. Oh, and these came for you, by the way."

He tossed a pair of white envelopes onto Ron's bed, and then he and George Disapparated.

"They've been like this all summer," Ron said, reaching for the envelopes.

"I can't believe someone actually gave them money for this," Hermione said, shaking her head. "Have they said anything to you about it? You don't think they might have come by it illegally, do you?"

"Of course not," Ron said, tossing the envelopes back onto the bed. "Looks like those are just our Hogwarts booklists."

"Aren't you going to open yours?"

Ron sighed. "Fine, might as well get it over with."

Hermione carefully opened her envelope. This was one of her favourite traditions every year. She always got excited about the prospect of new classes, new professors, new responsibilities…

Her letter was the only thing inside her envelope. She unfolded the letter, thinking it must just be trapped between the pages, but there was nothing there.

"Woah," Ron muttered. "I can't believe it."

Hermione looked over, and saw that he was turning over a small red-and-gold badge in his hands.

"Hey, did you give me the wrong—"

She reached for Ron's envelope, checked the name on its front, and then double-checked her own, but that didn't change anything. She sat there, staring at her empty envelope, as her heart sank.

It was silly, but whenever she'd thought about what her final few years at Hogwarts would be like, she'd always imagined having that badge. It wasn't about the privileges, or even the duties. It was supposed to be a recognition of all of the work that she put into school. She didn't get to hoist the Quidditch Cup, or be the life of common-room parties, or be the hero of every crazy adventure. Being a Prefect was supposed to be the one reward that she did get.

"Wait, did you not get one?" Ron asked, seeing her empty hands. "That's got to be a mistake, there's no way—"

"It's not a mistake," she said bitterly. "I'm on trial for murder. There's no way Dumbledore could have picked me."

"He knows you deserve it," Ron argued. "If not for Fudge's nonsense, you'd have been the easiest pick in the history of the school."

Hermione stood up, suddenly very much wanting not to have to look at somebody else holding the badge. Especially not Ron. She wanted to be happy for him, but right now all she could think about was how many years it had been since he'd done homework without her help. Yet he'd been made Prefect, along with some other Gryffindor girl. Was it Parvati? Maybe even Lavender? Some fairness that was.

"It's not even a big thing," Ron said as she walked to the door. "Just loads of boring patrols. I wouldn't even have this if Harry—"

"I'm going back to my room for a bit," she said, fighting to keep her voice from breaking. "Congrats, Ron."

As she walked downstairs to her room, she gradually realized the meaning of what Ron had said. If Harry hadn't been killed – if she'd gotten to him in time – they'd have been Prefects together. It would have been perfect.

She could feel tears pooling in her eyes, and she didn't have the willpower to fight them off. Fifteen minutes, she told herself. Fifteen minutes, and then she'd sit down at Ginny's desk, pull out a legal textbook, and get back to work.


Despite her best intentions, Hermione's next few days at the Burrow were far less productive than she would have liked. She appreciated being with friends again, but the house was full of distractions. During the day it would be frighteningly loud sounds coming from Fred and George's room, or everyone playing Quidditch in the yard right outside her window, or even just a bored Ginny wanting to talk to her. In the evenings, they'd all talk at the table after dinner was finished, and she'd feel too guilty to excuse herself right away. The worst had been the night when there was a special celebration in honour of Ron being named a Prefect. She'd managed to be happy for him, at least, but it still stung.

Some nights she found it impossible to focus, and instead her mind wandered to all of the strange things that she'd noticed. For one, at precisely seven-thirty every morning, Mr. Weasley would go out to the garage, where he kept a number of Muggle "artifacts" he was working on. He must have been going directly from there to his office at the Ministry, because he wouldn't come back to the house until the evening. At more or less the same time, Mrs. Weasley would head outside to tend to the garden for an hour and a half every day. It must be the best-kept garden in all of England, Hermione thought, given how consistently Mrs. Weasley tended to it.

But as disruptive as all of those distractions were, the bigger issue was her nerves. Each day her trial drew closer, and each day she heard nothing from Dumbledore. If not for the fact that Professor McGonagall had sent her an owl on her second day at the Burrow, assuring her that Dumbledore was preparing to defend her himself, she would have worried that he'd completely forgotten about her trial.

It was on the very last day before her trial, just as Hermione's nerves were about to shatter completely, that Professor McGonagall appeared at the front door shortly after dinner. Ginny and the twins were briskly ushered out of the kitchen by their parents, over their loud protests, and Professor McGonagall took one of the empty seats.

"You finally heard from them?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"Yes," Professor McGonagall said. "Now, we have many things to discuss. First, Miss Granger, my apologies for not holding this meeting sooner. We thought it prudent to wait until the Ministry informed us of their witnesses. They decided to do so only this afternoon, over an entire week past the customary deadline."

Professor McGonagall sounded nearly as irritated as when Seamus had accidentally Transfigured a goblet into an entire flock of geese.

"Who are they calling to testify?" Hermione asked. "What's their strategy?"

"It appears their only strategy is to unfairly attack your character," Professor McGonagall said, in a tone that implied she thought very little of that tactic.

She reached into her robes and retrieved a scroll of parchment, which she unrolled on the table. Hermione couldn't read it from her angle, but she could see a number of wax seals at the bottom of the parchment.

"I can think of no other reason why they would have Draco Malfoy testify first, of all people. And then after him, they're calling the" – Professor McGonagall wrinkled her nose – "journalist Rita Skeeter to testify."

"You're joking," Ron exclaimed. "Could they have picked a slimier pair of—"

Mrs. Weasley shushed him, and Professor McGonagall continued as if nothing had happened.

"Their final witness will speak, Professor Dumbledore believes, on the design and structure of the maze, and on anything that he personally witnessed from the judges' box."

Professor McGonagall paused, shaking her head. Somehow the expression on her face had soured even further.

"Percy Weasley has agreed to testify for the prosecution."

A glass fell from Mrs. Weasley's hand, shattering against the floor. Ron and Mr. Weasley were both yelling, making it impossible to understand what either of them was saying.

"Control yourselves," Professor McGonagall said sternly, glaring at all three Weasleys, who immediately quieted. "There will be time enough to worry about this after the trial."

She was speaking as firmly as she would to a student, and Hermione was reminded of the fact that she'd already been Head of Gryffindor when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley attended Hogwarts.

"After the Ministry concludes their case," Professor McGonagall continued, her eyes on the parchment, "there will be four witnesses called for the defence. First, myself, to speak on my recollection of the night's events, and my own opinion of Miss Granger's character. Second, Mr. Ronald Weasley, to do the same. Third, Mr. Krum, to recount his memories of being subjected to the Imperius Curse inside the Triwizard maze. The final witness will be Miss Granger herself, to testify on everything that she did and saw that night."

A jolt of fear ran through Hermione, sending her heart racing. She hadn't thought that Ron would be testifying.

"Are those witnesses set in stone?" she asked, thinking quickly. "What if Viktor doesn't arrive from Bulgaria in time for the trial?"

"They are," Professor McGonagall replied. "Mr. Krum is flying in this evening, with plenty of time to spare. And regardless of our own witnesses, the Headmaster wishes for me to assure you that he believes the Ministry's case against you is extraordinarily weak. Because the crime they allege did not occur, they of course have no direct evidence, and they are relying entirely upon conjecture, circumstance, and conspiracies."

"Professor Dumbledore thinks I'm very likely to be acquitted, then?" Hermione asked.

"No reasonable person could find you guilty," Professor McGonagall replied. "The most important thing that you can do is to remain calm, and trust that the truth will prevail."

Professor McGonagall rolled up the parchment, stowing it back in her robes.

"That is everything that we presently know about the trial. I suggest that we all take the time this evening to review our recollections of the night in question. Now, before I leave, are there any further questions about the procedure?"

Hermione looked around the table. She was expecting Ron to ask about what his testimony would involve, or for one of his parents to ask about what Draco could possibly have to say, but neither of them did.

"Does Professor Dumbledore want to meet with me tomorrow morning before the trial is underway?" Hermione asked, feeling that she ought to at least try one last time.

"The Headmaster's schedule is extraordinarily busy, so unfortunately he will not have the time," Professor McGonagall said. "He deeply regrets that he has been unable to discuss these matters with you, but I assure you that he is fully prepared for your trial."

With that, Professor McGonagall wished her good luck and left, and the table sank into silence. After their initial shock had worn off, the news about Percy seemed to have left the Weasleys stunned. It had shaken Hermione too, but despite that surprise, and the fact that she still wouldn't get to meet with Dumbledore, the meeting had left her cautiously optimistic about tomorrow.

After a few more silent moments Hermione quietly excused herself. Ron did the same, and followed her out of the kitchen.

"I'm sorry about Percy," she said as they climbed the stairs. "I'm sure he doesn't want to do this, the Ministry is probably forcing him."

Ron walked into his room and gave the bedpost a half-hearted kick. Hermione waited in the doorframe. Normally she would give him space at a time like this, but there was something she absolutely had to tell him.

"I'd like to think that," he said, his back to her, "but I don't know. It was bad, Hermione. The things he said about the Ministry, about what his bosses think of Dad, the names he called Dumbledore… I'd never seen Mum and Dad so angry. I reckon he might have volunteered for this, it's probably great for his career."

"We don't know that yet," she said. "Fudge holds an enormous amount of power, and he's convinced that I'm guilty. If he thought Percy's testimony would help the case against me, I'm sure he'd use that power to ensure Percy testifies."

In truth, Hermione didn't want to believe that Percy had volunteered for this either. He'd always been kind, if a bit sharp when he was busy, but she was in no position to judge anybody for that. In a lot of ways, he'd gone down a path that was very similar to the one she'd imagined her own life taking. It was unsettling to think that somebody like him could blindly support Fudge's campaign of denial, and could so easily turn against their family and friends.

Ron shrugged. "Maybe. I was hoping that he'd come back after a bit, once everything had cooled down, but if he goes through with this there's no way. Not for a long time, anyway."

Hermione hesitated. She didn't want to change the subject abruptly, but what she had to say to Ron couldn't wait.

"Ron," she said quickly, before she lost her nerve, "you're going to be testifying before I do, so you'll be the first one to describe why we entered the maze. There's a chance you'll get asked directly about Mr. Filch, and if you do, please don't lie for me. It's a—"

"So I should just send you off for your life sentence in Azkaban, then?" Ron retorted, cutting her off. "You've finally let all that studying drive you off your rocker."

"I'm not saying you should volunteer it unprompted, but lying before the Wizengamot is a serious crime, Ron! I can't ask you to risk—"

"It's not about the bloody rules, Hermione!" Ron shouted, finally whirling around to face her. "It's about whether or not I can live with myself. It's hard enough knowing we've already lost Harry, and if McGonagall is right, we might as well have lost Percy too. You're my best friend now, Hermione. D'you think that knowing that I followed the law would make me feel any better when I sit up at night wondering if the Dementors have broken you yet?"

Listening to Ron, Hermione was vividly reminded of how she had justified casting that awful curse because she had wanted to protect Harry. Those feelings were wrong – Dumbledore had convinced her of that afterward – but she understood where they came from.

"I don't want to have to think about you being in Azkaban either," she said. "And neither does your family. That's why I want to protect you – all of you – from the consequences of the things I did. You haven't done anything to deserve them."

"Neither have you," he replied. "I know you're trying to be noble, but it's just stupid. I'm not ratting you out, Hermione, that's not what friends do."

Part of her still wanted to keep arguing with him, to tell him that as much as she appreciated his desire to protect her, she couldn't let him perjure himself, but it was clear that he wasn't going to change his mind.

"I still wish you wouldn't lie," she said, "but… I appreciate it. You're a really good best friend."

"I do my best," Ron sighed. "If this all goes wrong, they'd better at least put us in neighbouring cells."