Breaking the Window

Chapter 47: Finding Trix

Four people and a wasp went through the portkey.

Three people and a wasp came out.

Then… chaos.

Zipper was grasping the bars on the door of his cat-carrier with his mandibles in an attempt to get out. Hermione sympathized, but having a giant wasp flying around the huge group of investigators coming in from the auror office would be a distraction they couldn't use right now. She had already given her statement to the first responders and they were now interviewing her parents. Naturally, travel through the portkey connection had been suspected immediately from both sides and unspeakables from both the UK and French Ministry where coming in to investigate. It was all very surreal.

That is not to say that Hermione wasn't utterly sick with worry. It had always been maintained that portkey travel was utterly safe: a stable portal with two tethered endpoints. Hermione had never heard of someone 'getting lost' during transit. In fact, that hadn't happened on record ever since portkeys had been experimental magic hundreds of years ago.

But that still left the question. What happened to Bellatrix?

Part of her feared that something had happened due to Trix' temporal displacement. Maybe the magic of the transit interacted with her in a bad way because it somehow 'knew' that Bellatrix didn't belong in this time line, but she quickly dismissed this idea because Bellatrix had travelled through portkeys in this time line before without so much as a moment of discomfort.

Hermione thought she spotted Ron in the distance and called out, running after him… only to be stopped by a portkey security guard. Naturally, since Hermione wasn't in the Ministry or an auror, she was denied access no matter what arguments she threw at him. Frustrated, Hermione grit her teeth and kicked a dustbin for good measure.

So, she sat down on a bench and wallowed in misery until the Black family members arrived. She spotted them in the distance behind a crowd of security personnel and tried to attract their attention. She succeeded, unfortunately so, when Bellatrix' mother was the one to spot her. Druella Black, on the arm of Nymphadora, pointed at her and walked towards her. When Hermione got a good look at her expression, her heart broke.

Druella's eyes were red, her hands were trembling and her make-up had run from all the tears. Nymphadora seemed very worried also, often whispering to her and squeezing her hand. Bellatrix' mother had never seemed so…frail.

"Mademoiselle Granger," Druella cried out. Cela se produit encore! Pas encore! Pas encore! Ma pauvre enfant! Ma douce Bellatrix! Trouve-la! Aidez-la, s'il vous plaît! S'il vous plaît! Je l'aime tellement!"

Hermione didn't quite know what to say when Bellatrix's mother took her in a weak embrace. She returned the embrace as best she could while Druella cried in her arms. Nymphadora gave her a worried look.

"Hermione, she's been like this since… hearing the news," Nymphadora said. "Whatever happened also disabled all the traces put on auntie Bella. Nan has been in quite a state."

Hermione put her hands on Druella's shoulders. "Mrs Black?" she spoke as softly as possible. "I want Bellatrix found as much as you do. I'll do everything I can and more. Do you understand me?"

Druella sobbed, but nodded. Meanwhile, Nymphadora raised a finger and shouted out. "MUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMM!" sounded the magically enhanced voice throughout the hall, causing Hermione's ears to ring. It did have the desired result, however, as Andromeda, clad in her finery, turned around and spotted Nymphadora pointing at Hermione, upon which she started barking orders to the portkey security to let her through immediately.

"Thanks," said Hermione.

"Don't mention it," replied Nymphadora. "Look, I have to take care of my nan, alright? Please find Bellatrix, okay?"

Hermione nodded and watched Nymphadora take her inconsolable grandmother to sit with her on a bench near a drinks machine, hugging her tightly while she wept. Hermione picked up the cat-carrier and moved to talked to the same security guard, who now sheepishly let her through and was kind enough to point her to the direction of a side-office. Before heading inside, Hermione winced when she heard the heart-rending wail of a desperate mother over the murmurs of the many people mulling about the terminal.

The side-office turned out to be a personnel rec-room with a bunch of tables, some recliners and a coffee maker. The only person inside was Ron, who looked up from a stack of reports. "Hermione, there you are. I told some people to go look for you."

"Well, they might have looked harder," said Hermione. "Ron, are you in charge of the investigation?"

"Such as it is," he shrugged. "I've just got the reports from the unspeakables."

"Already?" Hermione pressed.

Ron snorted. "What can I say? When someone like Andromeda Black farts, you have a dozen high level Ministry officials crawling over themselves to praise the smell. Anyway, the portkeys on either side of the pond are in perfect condition and there's absolutely nothing wrong with the teleportation tunnel in between them. The human analogues they sent through all came out fine, all measurements are correct."

"How can that be?" asked Hermione, but was soon disturbed by rattling from the cat-carrier. "Say, mind if I let Zipper out? He's been getting a mite restless."

"Sure," said Ron. "Just don't let him fly out into the terminal. If he lands on the wrong portkey, he might end up in Trinidad."

Zipper was quite happy to be released, buzzing around merrily and finding a good spot on the ceiling. Hermione and Ron were too focused on the map. "Teleportation tunnel is always a straight line… well, sorta… it bends along with the curvature of the Earth, but otherwise it's a straight line from Strasbourg to Leeds. Tunnel failure could have deposited her anywhere along this line… let's hope it wasn't the middle of the North Sea.

"It can't have been a tunnel failure," said Hermione. "She went in right after me and my dad, along with my mum. My mum would have been lost as well if it had been a tunnel failure. Hell, maybe me and dad too."

"You're right," sighed Ron. "And that doesn't explain where the trace on Bellatrix went. Her mother says it was there one moment and gone the next. Not going lie, Hermione, I'm at a loss. I'm glad you're here to help. That big brain of yours might come in handy."

At that moment, Andromeda and Bellatrix' father came in through the door. Andromeda looked distracted, while Cygnus leaned on his cane. Though Cygnus seemed far more calm that Andromeda, Hermione could tell that he was worried.

"What happened?!" Andromeda demanded. "Where is my sister?!"

"Madame Black," Ron gulped. "We are doing everything we can to…"

"Don't patronize me!" Andromeda demanded. "I demand my sister be found! Have you seen the state my mother is in?! And, trust me, you do not wish to know what is going through my mind right now."

Hermione put her finger to her lips. "Okay, let me summarize what we know. Four people went into the portkey, only three came out. Preliminary tests show that there's nothing wrong with the portkeys or the teleportation tunnel and we'd know if there was. It can't have been a tunnel failure because all four would have been effected if it was, considering how close we were to one another. A trace would not be affected by a tunnel failure anyway and still it is gone."

"Hermione," Andromeda pressed. "Bellatrix cannot have vanished off the face of the Earth."

"Andromeda," Cygnus put a hand on her shoulder.

The Black matriarch spun around. "No, I will not calm down! Dammit, father, we just had her back! I just had my big sister returned to me and now these Ministry dregs are telling us that she's gone and they can't find her! I DO NOT WISH TO GO THROUGH THIS HELL A SECOND TIME!"

Hermione closed her eyes and thought back to what happened just before and just after stepping through the portkey. She tried to block out all sounds of shouting to try to think clearly. And then, it hit her.

The man in the cloak whom had bumped into Bellatrix.

There was no reason for him to have bumped into her. Bellatrix was heading out in the opposite direction in a different lane. The man would have had to deliberately veer off into the opposite lane to bump into Bellatrix. Was this even an accident.

"Andromeda?" Hermione spoke up. "Please tell me you haven't called off the surveillance teams yet."

A few moments and a few floo calls later, Ron, Hermione, Andromeda and Cygnus were looking at a stack of moving pictures lain out on the tables, capturing the moments just before the four of them headed into the portkey in Strasbourg. Ron raised an eyebrow. "You, uhm, you are having Hermione watched and photographed 24/7?"

"I did," said Andromeda. "For years. All her activities and interactions."

"Interactions with… everyone?"

"Yes," said Andromeda. "Before you ask, I have rather large files on you as well, mister Weasley."

Ron blanched considerably, gulping a little when he apparently contemplated the implications of this. But Ron's discomfort wasn't important to Hermione right now, as she was studying the moving picture with a big magnifying glass. "It seems my instinct was right," said Hermione after taking a careful look at the photo showing the exact moment when the cloaked man bumped into Bellatrix. "See that? The precise moment he bumped into Bellatrix, he also slipped something into her pocket."

"A reverse pick-pocket?" asked Andromeda. "To what end?"

Cygnus rubbed his chin. "It is theoretically possible to hijack a teleportation tunnel. By changing the end point."

"A portkey within a portkey!" Hermione snapped her fingers. "Teleportation tunnels are pure concentrated magic. Diverting the stream can only be done in a 20 mile radius of the original steam while still leaving the traveller's body intact."

Ron grunted. "Still that means the hijacking could have taken place anywhere along the route. That's over five hundred miles of ground to cover."

"It takes pure concentrated magic to break through a tunnel of pure concentrated magic," said Cygnus. "That will leave a magical residue."

"And if we find that residue, we will find Trix," Hermione smiled.

Ron pursed his lips. "Still doesn't explain where the trace went."

Andromeda fingered her lips for a moment. "Traces don't work in portkeys. Too much magic distortion. When the subject leaves the tunnel, the magic of the trace needs a moment to 'catch up' as it were after travel. It is in this window of time that someone could cancel or overrule the trace."

"Dare I ask how you know so much about traces?" Ron raised an eyebrow.

"How indeed, mister Weasley," Andromeda grinned wickedly.

"Regardless," said Hermione. "It will take expensive and delicate equipment to do measurements that precise. It will need to be able to distinguish between the strong magical currents of the existing tunnel and the subtle readings of a tunnel break at a precise location."

"What will you need?" Andromeda said. "Everything will be delivered within the hour."

"A Magi-meter, an oscillating disseminator and a signal analyser," said Hermione.

"Might I suggest a Distortion-measurer as well?" added Cygnus. "I will assist you, miss Granger. I have some experience with portkey analysis, having worked on the development of the Inverness portkey hub as an apprentice."

"We'll get to the bottom of this," said Ron.

"You'd better!" Andromeda hissed.

"Andromeda," Cygnus put a hand on her shoulder. "Calm yourself. We all want her back."

Bellatrix was still a little groggy when she opened her eyes. While her eyes were adjusting to the light, she noticed two things. First, she was laying on something really soft and bouncy. Second, she was in a supremely uncomfortable position with her arms stretched over her head and held in place.

When she finally was able to look around, she saw that she was in a darkened room of a house. The place was rather tidy, but the curtains partially covering the window bathed it in shadows. Beyond the windows, she could see twisted trees. The room itself looked to be a living room, complete with sofas, a fireplace and paintings. She supposed it was quite nice. Bellatrix herself lay on a cozy bed two-person bed, looking to be rather out of place in a living room. Judging from the lack of dust and the way some of the furniture had been moved to make place from it, it had been a more recent addition.

Bellatrix tugged on her arms and found them to be fastened to the headboard with enchanted rope snaked around her wrists. She tugged, but the ropes held on tighter as a result.

"Finally awake," sounded a gravely voice from beyond the darkness.

Bellatrix froze. "Who… who's there!" she demanded.

"My, my, don't you recognize my voice?" sounded as a figure as it stepped into the light. "I suppose it has been some time."

The man clad in a black robe was broad-shouldered, yet emaciated. His skin was paler than it should be and what could be seen of his neck and head was covered in scars of magical burns. A scraggly beard covered most of this face, but looking at this features and his eyes, who this was, was unmistakable.

"R-Rodolphus?" Bellatrix stammered.

"You do remember!" he let out a roaring laugh. Not a pleasant laugh. Not a mirthful laugh. "Unlike me, you haven't aged a day. I do say, Bella, you've given me no end of grief. Which will no doubt please you to hear."

Rodolphus stood at the side of the bed, right next to her. He removed a glove from his calloused hand and held Bellatrix' ankle. The curly-haired witch felt a shudder go through her entire body when he slowly slid his hand from her ankle up to her knee, raising up her dress a little.

"I always admired your legs, you know?" he chuckled before withdrawing his hand. "Everybody believed I murdered you and buried you into the woods. Even the Dark Lord! Oh, he was furious. 'You have robbed us of a potential recruit and brought too much unwanted attention to us at the wrong time'. But I am grateful: I had to work twice as hard to improve myself and prove my worth to the Dark Lord. And I became his must trusted, his most faithful!"

"Where have you brought me?" Bellatrix asked warily.

"Do you like it?" said Rodolphus. "You should. You'll be spending the rest of your life here."

Bellatrix did her best to keep her breathing steady: though she was determined to remain defiant, her situation was far from encouraging and she could feel the onset of panic looming at the edge of her being.

"Hunting lodge. Belonged to my grandfather," said Rodolphus. "It's very well hidden, and not on any books. Nobody comes here except me. Bella, nobody is ever going to find you here. Your old life is over."

Right, panic was very much threatening to invade her calm demeanor. She looked around frantically, to the windows, to the door. Again, the twisted trees outside caught her eye. "We…" she whispered. "We are in the Forbidden Forest!"

"Clever, clever little witch," he chuckled. "But then again, you always were. You're correct, of course. It is to my endless amusement that I have been here for the past 18 months. It is delightfully easy to bribe some lowlifes to take a polyjuice potion and have them traipse about some continental city for a few hours and just watch the press and the aurors completely lose their heads on a wild goose chase! It's really quite comical. Meanwhile, I've been here all along, hiding right under their noses. And, well, if you can pay someone to drink a potion, you can pay someone to slip a little something in your pocket to make you come to me, dear Bella."

"Why have you brought me here?" Bellatrix asked.

Rodolphus spun around on his heels, face twisted in pure rage. "Because," he hissed. "I AM OWED A PURE-BLOOD BRIDE!"

The voice was so loud that it made Bellatrix' ears ring. He was upon her, grasping her jaw and squeezing. "Funny thing, having the reputation of having murdered one's bride-to-be, rumour or no, doesn't do wonders for marriage prospects in pure-blood circles. Not even when you're the Dark Lord's top lieutenant. But you returned and it was as if it was a sign from magic itself! You have returned just in time to help me prepare for the Dark Lord's return!"

"Return?" Bellatrix frowned. "Isn't he dead?"

Bellatrix would come to regret making that offhand comment. Faster that Bellatrix could register, his fist collided with her cheek so hard that it made her head snap back and slam back into the pillow. And second blow to just below her eye followed. "HOW DARE YOU?!" he roared, a punch to the stomach sending Bellatrix into a coughing fit. "FILTHY WHORE!"

Bellatrix was started when his calloused hand clamped over her mouth while using his thumb and index finger to hold her nose shut. Immediately, the already winded Bellatrix had to fight for breath. She twisted and turned her head in a futile attempt to break free. He bent down, his face so close that the now undeniably terrified Bellatrix could feel his beard on her skin.

"You know nothing, you uppity little bitch," he hissed, inches away from her. "You haven't changed a bit, Bella. Still the insufferable know-it-all. Oh, woe-is-me, my freedom is more important than my duty. You have a duty to the pure-blood wizardhood, Bella! A duty you will fulfil. For the Dark Lord will expect greatness and devotion from all of us!"

Her lungs screamed for air while her vision started to blur and her limbs were growing heavy. And then, just as quickly as she had been assaulted, she had been released. Bellatrix drew in a large breath and started coughing.

Rodolphus for his part, raised his hands. "I apologize, I apologize," he said. "I should not blame you for your profane ignorance. In fact, I should pity you. You have missed the last thirty years. You have missed your opportunity to lay your eyes on Lord Voldemort's magnificence. You have missed a chance to kneel at his feet and share in his glory. I should not fault you for not knowing any better."

Bellatrix stared at him, hard. Rodolphus was a far cry from the petulant little schoolboy he had been. This was a soldier, this was a battle-hardened war-mage. This was a man who had tortured Hermione within an inch of her life. Whatever he had been in the past, he had become violent, cruel and desperate. If he was capable of almost beating Hermione to death, he could certainly do the same to her. If the way her cheek burned or her eye hurt was any indication, he could do much worse.

"Please, forgive me," he bowed his head.

Apparently, Bellatrix took too long to answer.

"Please," he repeated angrily through clenched teeth while balling his fist dangerously. "Forgive me. A good pure-blood wife should be KIND AND GRACIOUS and FORGIVE TRANSGRESSIONS WHEN A PROPER APOLOGY IS OFFERED."

Bellatrix yelled out. "I forgive you! I forgive! It's just… all a bit…"

"Overwhelming?" Rodolphus finished. "You shouldn't be overwhelmed. This is expected of you, after all. The Dark Lord shall NEVER DIE! He always lingers! We will await his return and when he does, we will be ready for him."

"Why… am… I.. here?!" Bellatrix demanded angrily. For a moment, she expected another blow, but it never came. Instead, Rodolphus spread his arms wide.

"Here, in this lair, we have all we need to prepare!" he yelled out. "Together, Bellatrix, you and I shall breed an army of the loyalest followers to prepare for the Dark Lord's return! The longer he waits, the larger his army will be!"

Breed… an army. Breed.

Oh, Merlin. OhMerlinOhMerlinOhMerlin!

Full on panic set on in now as she started to tug on the ropes, which only tightened further around her writs. Rodolphus was already upon her, straddling her as she struggled. A hand was placed on her cheek, the same place he had struck her mere minutes ago. Bellatrix was starting to hyperventilate now, something Rodolphus seemed to mistake for arousal. "Come now," he said. "Serving the Dark Lord can be quite enjoyable. Let us begin."

"W-wait…" Bellatrix squeezed her eyes shut when he started running fingers through her hair.

"W-WAIT!" she shouted when he started to free her shoulders from her dress.

"WHAT?!" he demanded.

"WE'RE NOT MARRIED!" Bellatrix shouted in desperation.

Rodolphus cocked his head sideways.

"You call me your pure-blood bride, right?" she said. "But… we're not officially married. So… what will the Dark Lord say when he comes back and he finds out the army created for him is entirely born out of wedlock? That would be… so embarrassing to him. And for you!"

Rodolphus pondered this, rubbing his beard.

Bellatrix bit her lip, hoping against hope that he would see reason for now at least.

"See, Bella?" he finally grinned. "You have just prevented me from making a rather hideous mistake! You are already an excellent wife! Ah, but where to find an official?! I am a fugitive."

She could tell that he was now reconsidering her words. Bellatrix knew she would have to act quickly. "I know a vicar!" Bellatrix announced. "St Jude-on-the-Hill, in London. There's a vicar there with last name Frost."

Rodolphus narrowed his eyes. "Muggle?"

"Better than nothing," Bellatrix tried. "And they don't know you're a fugutive."

For a moment it seemed as if he would discard her suggestion, but relief washed over her when he made a grab for his cloak and wrapped it around his shoulders. "I shall go find us a vicar at once!" he said while making for the door. "I shall be back shortly. Don't go anywhere," he chuckled at his own joke and pulled the door close behind him. Outside, there was the telltale pop of an apparation.

Bellatrix breathed a sigh of relief, but knew her time was short. Once he had found a vicar and the two of them had been married, there'd be no stopping him from doing… what he was about to do… She had to get out of there and she was on the clock.

Long ago, Cissy had pulled a prank on her and had used magic rope of a similar kind to tie her leg to their garden playhouse. It had been a matter of finding the right flow of magic to actually sync with the magic of the rope so it would fall loose to escape, much to Cissy's chagrin. If she could do duplicate that feat here, she could escape. So, Bellatrix diligently went to work, altering the flow of magic as it ebbed through her arms to see what would make the ropes constrict and what would make them go slack.

Bellatrix was on the clock.

The best thing… well, second best thing… about being affiliated with the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, was the quick access to vast resources at a moment's notice. Andromeda had been true to her word and had all the equipment delivered in less than an hour. Thankfully, the machines also came pre-calibrated, saving them precious time.

After that, it was just going through the Portkey teleportation tunnel over and over and over again to take readings in the hope of finding the right magic signature. In fact, Hermione had just made about six round-way trips when she was deposited in Leeds again. The moment she landed on her feet, she stumbled a little before immediately rushing to the nearest wastebin to hurl up the contents of her stomach.

With the taste of bile fresh in her mouth, she weakly raised her head, only to feel the urge to immediately dry heave again. When she finally recovered somewhat, she found Ron standing over her holding out a bottle of water. The grateful Hermione took the bottle. "Have a seat, Hermione," said Ron. "Mister Black has already calibrated the… uh, the scan-thingy. I'll take the next few trips."

"Thanks, Ron," Hermione croaked and walked over to a group of seatings where Cygnus had set up and was operating the equipment. The old man had put his cane to lean against the waist-high wood-panelled machine which looked like something which came straight out of Dr. Frankenstein's laboratory. While Ron took out the meter and took his first trip through the portkey, Cygnus took another look at the dials. "We might be on to something here. There's a definite spike near the bottom end of the ElectroMagical band. It'll take more readings to narrow it down still."

Hermione took a swig from her bottle to wash down the foul taste in her mouth. "How can you keep so calm?" she asked, finding herself sick with worry.

Cygnus froze for a moment before speaking. "Years of business deals or contract negotiations have given me the skill to appear calm, collected and self-assured at any given circumstance… even when I'm anything but…"

Hermione lowered her gaze. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply…"

"It's fine, miss Granger," said Cygnus. "I'm most concerned about the fact that no ransom demands have been sent yet. The implications of that are quite disturbing. And what about you, miss Granger? You're pushing yourself quite hard."

Hermione sighed. "Am I that obvious?" she replied. "Seems so long ago now when I first met Trix through the Fae Mirror. We all knew the story about her disappearance. It's a terrible thing to know that the person you're talking to will be murdered in a few months. Of course, Trix had made me promise not to tell her anything about the future. Trying to convince her that bad things were going to happen to her while not actually being able to tell her what those bad things were. Vexing doesn't begin to describe it."

"Hm," smiled Cygnus. "It probably didn't help that my fierce girl is more stubborn than a particularly obstinate mule."

"Oh, absolutely," Hermione crossed her arms. "I had just convinced her to stay away from Rodolphus and the Dark Lord and then that old goat Dumbledore sends her right back in again on some half-baked spying mission! It's as if he didn't realize just how dangerous that was."

Cygnus' fingers hovered over the machinery. He took a step back and slowly sat down in the hair next to Hermione. "Bellatrix wouldn't have been in that position if I hadn't put her in it in the first place," said Cygnus. "I saw how unhappy having the marriage to Rodolphus Lestrange hanging over her head made her. I knew how much she wanted to escape from it. I drove her to that desperation, miss Granger. And I've had to live with that for thirty-three years."

Hermione watched him as he stared into the distance, seemingly lost in thought. Hermione had seen that look before, a combination of guilt and helplessness, on the face of her own father after learning that she had been suffering. The look on Cygnus' face was very much one of a father in pain.

"I wouldn't say that," said Hermione. "I've read the newspaper articles. After Bellatrix disappeared, you went on a collision course with the head of your house and took a stance which had led to the disowning of so many previous Blacks before for the sake of your daughter. That takes courage."

"That is kind of you to say," replied Cygnus, a slight hint of a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. "But if I really had courage, I would have done so earlier for Bella's sake. I did not. My poor Bella has never seen her own family, or even her own father, at their best."

"I think she's seeing it now," Hermione smiled. "My father is also dealing with his guilt. Even though I keep maintaining that I make my own choices, he blames himself for all the things I have… been forced to endure. He shouldn't feel guilty about anything, but I can't seem to convince him of that."

"Fathers are supposed to protect their children," said Cygnus. "I think I quite understand his position. Even if Bellatrix were to forgive me, I don't think I'd be so quick to forgive myself."

"You and my father should talk," said Hermione. "Despite all your differences, you both have plenty in common."

"Honestly?" said Cygnus. "I think I would like that."

"Technically, it was I who took her away from you and her family," Hermione admitted. "By convincing her to come to the future with me, I caused her disappearance."

"No," Cygnus shook his head. "Miss Granger… Hermione. You gave her back to me. I have no doubt, knowing what an insane fanatic Rodolphus Lestrange has become, that Bellatrix would have been in for either a dire future or a violent end at a young age. I do not know what would have happened if she had not travelled through time, Hermione. This is the only reality I know and I feel that Bellatrix getting a second chance at life is best for her and our family. You have done nothing wrong."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you."

"We will find Bellatrix again, Hermione," said Cygnus. "As for you, I realize that you have saved Bellatrix at great cost to yourself. Rest assured that the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black takes care of its friends, allies… and future members."

Hermione snapped her head and looked at the older wizard with wide eyes. "You mean…?"

"Let's find her first, hm?" he chuckled before getting up and returning to the machine, finding Zipper having touched down upon in. "Ah, hello there, my little friend."

The giant wasp treated Cygnus to a few playbites before Hermione came to collect him. After taking another drink of water, she sat down again and clutched the wasp to her chest. Though Zipper might not be soft and fluffy as Crookshanks had once been, hugging the wasp did have the same effect. "Yeah," whispered Hermione. "I'm worried about her too."

A few moments later, Ron emerged from his third round-away trip with the latest readings. Already looking a bit green around the gills, he let Cygnus analyse the latest findings before plopping down and taking a drink. "Merlin," he muttered. "I feel like my bowels are dancing the watusi."

"Nobody is meant to make this many portkey travels in one day," said Cygnus. "I shall take the next few trips. We are making definite progress, though. I shall set the disseminator to emit the right MagiHertz frequency. Next few trips we might break through."

"No," said Hermione. "You need to keep your head clear. I'll take the next few trips. I'll be fine, I'll just have to center myself a bit more"

Hermione stepped back to the portkey and took a few deep breaths: her stomach was already starting to turn at the thought of more round-way trips, but steeled herself to the task. The moment she was about to touch it, Zipper landed on the pedestal beside it, looking up at her with his compound eyes. "Alright," she said and zipped open her jacket. The wasp scrawled inside and after Hermione zipped up again, poked his head out just under Hermione's chin. She grabbed hold of both the measuring equipment and the disseminator, took a deep breath and was off.

The first two round trips were the same as always. She emerged in Strasbourg, returned to Leeds and shared her findings after which Cygnus re calibrated the equipment. On the third time, something did happen.

The disseminator did its job: a sharp jolt went through the entirety of Hermione's body and, for a moment, it felt as if she was being split in two. She was tossed about the teleportation tunnel like a ragdoll, crying and shouting for what seemed like forever until she was rather roughly deposited on the ground.

The first thing Hermione did was throw up.

The second thing was to recover from the disorientation: she didn't know up from down and left from right at the moment. She rolled on her back and panted, a foul taste still in her mouth. When she opened her eyes, she was met with blue skies. Hermione took another few deep breaths, hearing the sound of the window and of bleating sheep in the distance.

She definitely hadn't landed in Leeds.

Hermione sat up and found herself in the middle of a field near a copse of trees. Now, none of them had expected to find any danger here, since it would have been foolish of Trix' kidnappers to stick around. As they had agreed upon, Hermione fished a beacon from her satchel. The planted the conch-shell on a stick in the ground and started to explore her surroundings.

She heard Zipper buzzing in the distance, the wasp having either escaped from her jacket or thrown clear of it. Hermione got to her feet, needing a moment steady herself, before she slowly walked over to a bush where Zipper was buzzing his wings. The wasp had landed and had stuck his head into something.

Bellatrix' hat.

The pointy, floppy hat lay abandoned and covered with dirt. Hermione picked it up and held it: Trix had definitely been here and she would never left her favourite and well-loved hat behind willingly.

Zipper buzzed around in circles and it was obvious that he wanted her to follow him. Had he picked up a scent, perhaps? Could wasps even do that?

Zipper led her to a copse of trees at the edge of the field, near what appeared to be a road in a poor state of repair. Zipper seemed to be circling an area of the copse, near the edge and at first Hermione couldn't spot anything out of the ordinary. After taking out her wand and roving it about, she discovered a very faint magic signature. In fact, it was so faint that if Zipper hadn't been sat next to it, she likely never would have found it.

A knothole had been enchanted to be another portkey, location unknown. All she had to do was touch it.

She and Ron had decided to gather at whatever endpoint the portkey would deposit them had, assess the situation and call for backup as needed. As it seemed, this kidnapped was well planned and likely prepared well in advance. The chance of running into dangerous people was high.

But… if the situation was reversed, Bellatrix wouldn't even hesitate: she'd jump right through and face the dangers head on for Hermione's sake.

Why wouldn't Hermione do the same?

She put her lip for a moment, doubts still plaguing her. What good would it do if Hermione would be captured or killed herself? How would that help Trix?

Hermione sighed and placed another conch-beacon into the ground next to the tree. She pulled a magic marker from her satchel and drew a bright pink glowing circle around the knothole with an arrow pointing at it. Even Ron would catch on to that clue.

Then, she stuffed Trix' hat into her satchel, put Zipper inside her jacket again. With grim determination, she moved to touch the portkey and took off into the unknown.