Lost and Found 
Chapter 3: The Tie That Binds
written by: misanoe


 It had been two weeks since he had seen Hermione and Bill was getting
frustrated. His search for the cave had turned into the search for Hermione,
with discouraging results. Once again, he found himself without an inkling of
how to find her. Settling for the old fashioned way, he had trod on foot
for the past two weeks looking for the same glow that had directed him to her
in the first place. The only thing that kept him from dismissing what he saw
as some strange hallucination or dream was the single strand of brown hair he
had found on the floor and her scent. 
 Perhaps he had gone crazy, in the woods with no human contact for weeks; 
he swore however, he could still smell a faint sweet scent, lingering on the 
grass she had once stood. Closing his eyes he recalled her figure to mind, more 
then once grateful to his photographic memory. With it, he was able to go over 
every detail of her in his mind over and over again. 
 As he took the time to inspect her, he once again found himself mesmerized 
by her unearthly beauty, it enchanted him. Not so different from Veela, but 
still, Bill had never fallen for any Veela charms. 
 Her hair was darker and longer which could have been accounted to the
years she had been missing, but nothing ordinary could explain the glow that
emanated from her. Continuing to inspect the image in his head he suddenly
found what he had been missing, what had been right in front of him the whole
entire time.
 He realized that he had been an idiot. When Hermione had stared at him there
was no recognition. None at all, and although he could probably count the
number of times he had met her on one hand, she had been the head girl of
Hogwarts; they were known for their intelligence and superb memory, she would
have remembered him. He remembered her, but how could he not?


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 Two weeks had went by without a trace of her. Bill felt as exhausted as Harry
looked. Harry, he was driving himself to hard. When Bill got close enough to
him, there were periods where he swore he could see the agony reflecting
through Harry's eyes. Ron hadn't been much better. When he sought him out,
Ron had launched himself into Bill's arms and began to babble about Hermione.
 After a while he pulled himself out of Bill's comforting arms, embarrassed of
his weakness. Giving his brother a proper handshake, he gave his apologies
and apparated away to join in the search for Hermione. 
 They had been combing the area, their ventures were growing wider and wider 
with each passing day. Bill could feel the tension in everyone growing, he himself 
was almost at his breaking point. This search was taking it's toll on everyone, 
and at this point, he wasn't sure if they were ever going to find her. He was 
so tired, he needed to escape. The air he shared with everyone else seem to suffocate
him; grabbing a broomstick, he apparated outside his house and flew off into
the night.
 The cool wind whipped his long bangs onto his face, he could barely feel the
sting; exhilarated with his ride. Whizzing dangerously in the air, he flew
recklessly abandoning all caution. The harder he rode, the more the stress
began to subside within him. All he could hear was the wind buzzing by his
ears, his mind closed to everything else. He flew as high as he could, as
fast as he could, surrendering himself to the night.
 It was several hours before he landed, to exhausted to fly anymore. Tumbling
off his broom he laid on the cool dirt floor, surrounding by towering trees
that cast their shadows about him. Closing his eyes he tried to empty his
head of all thought. He was tired of thinking, all he wanted was rest away
from home. Blissfully he laid on the ground, the grass cushioning his body.
Unaware, his thoughts ran away from him and a picture swirled into focus
under his closed eyelids. It was Hermione. His mother had procured a picture
of her after her disappearance, and it was used to show everyone who had
never met Hermione, who they were looking for.
 Her hair was slightly wavy and a little beneath her shoulders. There were
remnants of baby hairs that poked out of the top edge of her forehead,
stubbornly refusing to be straightened with the rest of her hair. Her eyes 
were brown, and her pose in the picture was slightly prim and proper, similar 
to the stance his brother Percy always took on. The difference was her face, 
which held a slight smile and a twinkle in her eye, resonating a good humored 
warmth his younger brother did not possess.
 She wore the standard black robes that Hogwarts required, with the letter H
pinned on the left breast of her robe. H for head, Bill had once worn a pin
very similar to hers. There was nothing extra ordinary about her, where would
she go? Who would take her, why would they take her? Thousands of questions
pounded his mind, his intellect trying to come up with a plausible
explanation for her disappearance. If she had been kidnapped, it would've have
had to be strong magic to leave no trace to even Dumbledore.
 Studying the picture in his head, he attention was drawn to her face. She
smiled at him knowingly, seemingly aware of all his secrets. There was
nothing special about her appearance, nothing that separated her from
everyone else. She was not ugly, nor beautiful; she was a simple pretty.
Bill opened his eyes to wipe the picture out of his mind, replacing it with
his surroundings. Staring at the deep black sky, he could not help wonder
what she was doing at this moment. If she was even alive.
 The stars twinkled serenely at him and Bill began to drift off to sleep, 
ignoring the slightly damp ground he laid on, and the chill night air that crept 
into his body.

 You won't find what you are looking for. Not yet, it is not time. It
will be soon enough, and you will find what you seek.
 "Wait, do you know what I'm looking for?" Bill cried out to the air.
 Do you know what you are looking for?
 "I'm looking for Hermione."
 Silly child. You already know where she is. The wind whispered to him,
gently caressing him with her breath.
 "What do you mean?" He called out around him.
 The only reply he got was the gently gush of a breeze. And then, silence
filled the air.

 Bill woke up, his neck aching from the hard floor. Where was he? He
looked around, the forest was luminated from a crevice in a tree. Getting up he
walked towards the light; mesmerized. It was a wand laid in between the
gnarled roots of an old tree that lit up the forest. It shone so brightly it
hurt his eyes to look at it. Take it a voice in his head uttered. Bill dumbly
followed the instructions, unable to break the trance he was in.
As soon as he touched it the light had subsided to a gentle glowing, growing
dimmer and dimmer by the second. Picking it up in his hand, he snapped out of
the haze that had covered his brain sure of one thing; this wand belonged to
Hermione.
 Grabbing his broomstick, he quickly apparated out of the forest; clutching
her wand in his hand.

 The forest was once again pitch black; with the loss of it's former
occupant.
 Not yet, not now, the night filled the forest with it's silent voice.
Soon enough


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 Unsurprisingly, the uproar Bill expected of the people at his house
occurred when he procured her wand. Hermione's closest friends immediately
recognized the wand, turning deathly pale at it's implications. A witch or
wizard carried their wand with them wherever, regardless of situation. It was
something you didn't leave at home or on the floor somewhere. That she was
without it was enough to make people talk.
 It was Harry and Ron who were the most effected by the news. They were
the only ones who knew that Hermione could not have left or lost her wand
somewhere in the middle of the forest by accident. When Harry had misplaced
his wand that one time to find that it had been taken by Barty Crouch,
Hermione had later insisted that Harry, Ron, and herself perform a complicated
spell on their wands that would bind them to themselves.


 "Harry, Ron!"
 Both boys looked up to see Hermione crawling through the entrance, book
in one hand, brown bag in the other.
 "What?" Ron grunted, it was after all two in the morning.
 "Hermione," Harry asked curiously, "why did you tell us to meet you at two
in the morning? And where have you been?"
 "We're going to bind our wands to us." She declared lifting the hand that
contained the book in the air for them to read.
 "101 Useful Spells." Ron looked at her as though she had sprouted horns
from her head. "Are you mad? Waking us up at this time for this?"
 "Don't you think your going a little overboard Hermione?" Harry
questioned. Rod nodded emphatically.
 Hermione looked at them in indignation. "This past year has shown us we
need to be on constant guard." She looked directly at Harry. "From the looks
of it, we're going to be facing some hard times. I for one, do not plan on
facing death-eaters and you-know-who without my wand because I dropped it or
left it at home."
 "That's great and all Hermione but two in the morning?" Ron repeated, to
point out the obvious madness of being awake at this time.
 "I had to wait until it was late enough to sneak into Professor Snape's
office to borrow certain items we need for the spell. And the sooner we have
this spell completed, the better."
 Harry lifted an eyebrow as he heard Hermione tell him she had gone off to
borrow certain items from Snape. But Hermione time and again had proven that
she was willing to break the rules for the greater good. And to her, this was
obviously the greater good. Harry wasn't sure he disagreed with her. He was
able to use magic through his wand, he did not want a repeat of the
helplessness he had felt when he had first discovered it's missing.
 "All right," Ron grumbled. "The quicker we start the sooner we finish and
go back to sleep."
 Hermione had been paying no attention to them for the past minute, busy
with mixing up the ingredients in the correct order. Using her time
efficiently, she was able to come up with a dark bubbling purple sludge
within ten minutes, making Harry wonder if she had been practicing these
motions before. Probably he told himself. It was Hermione, she didn't like to
leave things to chance. I hope we don't have to drink that. He peered at the
smelly concoction before him, watching Hermione take out small cups from her
bag, only to fill each with a big glop of the thick paste like substance. His
hopes didn't seem to be faring to well at the moment.
 "Okay, take your wand and dip the tip of the end into your cup making
sure that the bottom is fully covered with a bit of the potion. Afterwards
you need to shout 'Planvisero Plendium', remove the wand and then drink the
potion."
 Harry and Ron winced simultaneously. Of course Harry thought to himself.
 "Is it me or do the potions we make always turn out to be the nastiest
things?" Said Ron voicing Harry's own thoughts.
 "Just do it."
 They each grabbed their cup, Harry and Ron eyeing their's warily before
they dipped their wands into it.
 "Planvisero Plendium," they shouted at the same time, afterwards chugging
the contents in their own cups.
 "Ewww."
 They began to all gack and choke as they felt the thick slimy substance
make it's way down their throats. Harry felt it go straight to his right
wrist and was surprised when he saw a thin rope made of smoke wrap itself
around his arm. Looking up startled, he saw that Hermione and Ron had
encountered the same phenomenon. Looking back at his arm he saw the smoke
slither to the tip of his wand that had been dipped in the potion. As soon as
it had connected with it, there was a resounding crack, and the smoke disappeared.
 "Quick," hissed Hermione, get rid of your cups. Using her wand she
quickly transfigured the now empty cauldron into a book, taking it as she
shot them a look and fled to the girls dormitory. Harry and Ron grabbed their
cups and ran to their bed chambers, hearing the lights switch on and voices
saying, "What was that?"
 Without sparing each other a glance they jumped into their own beds and
pulled the curtains; right before they heard the footsteps of several people
running below to the common room. Harry could distinctly hear the shrill voice of
Thomas Grindal, an overexcited sixth year prefect, rise above the rest of the
noises demanding everyone to let him through.
 Safe in his bed Harry caught his breath and sighed in relief. Settling
himself under the covers, he looked down at his wrist that had been encircled
by the smoke. It didn't look any different and felt the same. Still, Harry
felt secure with the knowledge that Hermione had made the potion and that he
would never be without his wand again.


 Ron had nearly become hysterical and Harry had stood there in shock, both
staring at the wand Bill held in his hand. It's lone appearance meant one of
few things. Harry had been right in trusting Hermione that night; the spell
turning out perfectly. Afterwards, they had not been able to leave their
wands farther then five feet before it disappeared and reappeared in their
pockets or hands. Wherever on their body they focused it to come. Harry had
later found out from Hermione that the bind was permanent. There were only
three ways to break it. The first was the use of more magic. Powerful dark
magic could always break the strongest bonds, this Harry knew from
experience. Second, if the three that had recited their commands together got
together and performed a counter potion, similar to the one they had done
before; once again the bind could be broken. Lastly, the reason Ron and Harry
now stood shell shocked; death. Upon the wand's master's death, the bind would
break.


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 Someone must have put a powerful memory charm on her to make her forget
herself; unable to recognize him. But who would do it, and it still didn't
explain her changes and odd companion. It might not have been her, you might
have been mistaken. His brain tried to reason. But no, he was sure it was
her; riding on the same instinct that had once long ago identified her wand.
 Pushing his body to his limits, he had spent countless hours in search of
her. He knew he probably should have gone or at least owled home as soon as
he spotted her, and justified his actions by telling himself he didn't want
to raise anyone's hopes in case it turned out to be someone else. Truth be
told, the urgency in him to find her erased all desire to take off time to go
home or write a lengthy letter explaining the events that were transpiring.
He just didn't have the time. She was a night ahead of him, and he didn't
want to give her a further head start to get away. It was nearly impossible
now and giving her more time might insure that he would never find her, and
he needed to see her again.


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