A/N: My Microsoft Word keeps freezing my computer so I did this under notepad--hope it comes out alright. Also I don't know how long it is in comparison to my other chapters because there aren't pages in Notepad. So bear with me.

I hope you like the chapter. A lot of action and angst and drama is being set up. I don't know fi any of you were expecting or ready for this, but here is the beginning of the end. This isn't the last chapter, nor the second to last and doubtfully the third to last. I imagine there will be about fifteen int ehf finished product, but who knows.

Thanks for reviewing, but until Word comes back I'm not listing reviewers. Very appreciated though! Love you guys!




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Harry awoke the next morning, feeling well-rested, at 11 o'clock--so said his watch from Seamus. Sunlight was streaming in from the window and the day looked promising. Perhaps he'd invite Hermione and Ron for a stroll in Hogsmeade or a visit to the beach. His heart twinged as the realization hit him immediately: Hermione was away, and Ron was no longer his friend.

"It must have been nice under the Novocain spell," Harry thought wistftully as he slid into a sitting position. "Hermione was well, Ron was my friend, and I was at ease. Too bad that it's back to reality." Harry still puzzled over the Novocain spell; perhaps it had been a spell that that git, Malfoy, had put on him. "Or Ron," he thought darkly, and then shook it off.

"You're alive!" Madame Pomfrey's choice of words made Harry's stomach flip, but she must have noticed this for she added, "It was just a joke, dear. It's good to see that you're awake; it's been eighteen hours."

"I'll be going now," Harry declared as he stumbled out of the bed and began rummaging through a cubby for his clothes. The starchy infirmary clothes weren't much to his liking and he was eager to be rid of them. Pomfrey didn't fight his decision.

"Fine, dear," she agreed, making some random marks on a chart. "Remember, it's vacation. There are no classes today."

"Right," Harry nodded, and retreated to the infirmary bathroom to change. He locked the door and splashed cold water in his face. He felt refreshed, but not just from sleeping or the water. It seemed that the spell's effects had worn off. A few flicks of his wand guarenteed that his teeth were clean and his hair was neat, and so Harry quickly splipped into his clothes--a simple greay t-shirt that the Dursleys had sent "with love" and a pair of khaki shorts that he had bought himself the previous year (and had had to magick longer when he hit a major growth spurt). After lacing up his tennis shoes, he said a brief goodbye to Madame Pomfrey and thanked her for her services.

It wasn't as sunny as it had seemed from the infirmary window. Any hope for the day Harry had held had now vanished and he decided that he had nothing better to do than go in search of his friends.

The first place Harry checked was the library--he doubted that they'd be in there, and rightfully so, but had this curious, lovesick hope that somehow Hermione would be at one of the tables divulged in a book--and then he was off to the Quidditch pitch. What he saw a brawl of scarlet and emerald robes.

Ron had Guy pinned to the ground and was punching him in the face; Dean kept slamming Draco forcefully against the bleachers; Seamus appeared to have Rupet Fink in a headlock; Nar was on the ground being kicked by a burly 6th year, Vinnie Quem; and even weak Neville had joined in--of course, by joing in I mean being elbowed in the stomach by Blaise Zabini.

Dean was the first to notice Harry, and dropped Draco against the bleachers as he waved and shouted, "Hey, Harry! Harry! Over here!" across the field. Unfortunately, Draco took opporutnity of this, grabbed Dean, and took him flying in between the 2nd and 3rd row of the bleachers. Obscenities could be heard.

Harry ran over as fast as he could. What was going on? Why were they fighting? Usually it didn't happen like this...? Harry reached the bleachers after what seemed to be etrnity and pulled Draco off of Dean. Draco went flying back and went to push Harry, but recoiled as if he thought it over and decided it best to not. Instead, the blonde Slytherin wiped at the blood trickling down his chin and glared daggers at Dean. The rest of the fighting seemed to pause as well as they all looked at Harry.

As if on unsaid command, Draco began hurriedly stalking away and the Slytherins followed in an orderly fashion. They kept turning around to sneer at the Gryffindors and then finally disappeared off of the pitch and into Hogwarts.

"What happened?" Harry asked quietly as he sank into the bleachers. Dean wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve--all the boys had removed their heavy Quidditch robes to partake in the fight--and sat beside him; the rest followed suit, gathering around to tell their story.

"We were here first--"

"And they wouldn't leave--"

"Said something about you, Harry--"

"Guy attacked Ron--"

"But he begged me to!"

"Comment about Gryffindors--"

"Called me a girl!"

"OKAY!" Harry said loudly to break the myriads of voices. He turned to Guy. "Guy, thanks for sticking up for me. Can you tell me what happened?"

Guy shook his head solemnly. "They were just trash talking, Harry. It got to me. It was pretty stupid of us, I know." He looked up, and his expression brightened slightly. "It's good to see that you're awake and well, Har. We heard about the spell."

"Funny how Dumbledore doesn't know why the spell was used," Nar frowned. "Rumors spread like wildfire here at Hogwarts," he added to answer Harry's confused expression.

They got up and headed towards the infirmary to heal a few wounds and make idle chatter along the way. "Have you heard from Hermione, Harry?" asked Dean.

"No," Harry said, wondering why he hadn't thought to check. "I'll ask Madame Pomfrey when we get to the infirmary if I received any letters. But, unless Mione sent me any letters during the first eighteen hours of her visit, I doubt any would be here by now."

"My gash," said Nev, completely non sequitur, "is worse than yours, Guy."

Guy seemed to take this challenge quite seriously as he replied, "Yes, but mine's on my face. Face is worse than torso, Nev." The other guys grunted in agreeal and Nev admitted defeat. Harry just shook his head, laughing at his friends.

It was almost good, in a way, that he had been seeing less of Ron--he had become closer with the other boys in his dorm, guys that he had only considered friendly acquaintances before. "They were willing to fight against those who were speaking against me. I should be more appreciative," Harry pondered. But he still missed Ron. It wasn't good. Almost good.

They reached the infirmary and didn't bother knocking, as Dean was in the lead and was never one for formalities. The rest of the boys fell into the white, clean-smelling room and Harry felt sick just to be back.

The six boys were quiet. It sounded like a wimpering was coming from the backroom. Harry assumed the lead, and they crept cautiously to the back to see that Madame Pomfrey was talking to Dumbledore through the fireplace; only, they couldn't hear what Dumbledore was saying ("Private line," Seamus smirked). "And they're sure?" she was saying softly. "Quite alright. No, I'll be fine. I released him just an hour ago. Alright. Alright. Thanks, Headmaster." She hesitated before clunking the receiver down and gasped as she spunto see six seventeen-year-old boys towering over her.

"B-boys," she stammered, holding her hand to her heart. "You scared me half to death. How can I--oh, you look like the Devil ran you over with a mower!" she exclaimed, trying to busy herself. She reached for Seamus's arm (where Fink had bit him), but Seamus pulled away sharply. Harry adavanced on the small, plump woman.

"What is going on?" he said calmly, but sternly.

"Harry," she protested, backing away. "Go back to the common room."

"I was released an hour ago. What has happened?"

"Harry..."

"WHAT?"

"It's Hermione, Harry."

Harry felt his heart freeze and stop beating. For a moment, he didn't breathe. Fears pulsated through his veins like electricty through wires and his mind focused on one, solitary thing: Hermione.

"What happened to Hermione?" He asked slowly, annunciating every word. He didn't want to know the answer. He didn't want to ask the question.

"Harry," she said pleadingly. "You don't want to hear this from me!" She shrieked as he grabbed her by the shoulders and stared at her, hard and cold.

"What about Hermione?" His tone was scary. Truly scary.

"Harry, calm down," he faintly heard one of his friends say. He blocked it out.

Madame Pomfrey was crying. "Harry, she never got to her house. She never got to Sheffield. She never even used the portkey behind Hagrid's hut." Madame Pomfrey looked up daringly into the eyes of Harry Potter. "Hermione's mother never sent her that letter, Harry. It was a set-up."



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Harry rubbed his temple; it was beginign to get sore. He had sat there in the small, stuffy questioning room for three hours. The detetcive had started out with a pleasant, assuring smile and had insisted that Harry had call him Mitch. Now, he wouldn't put up with being called anything but Detective Ropes and wore a hard, cold expression of someone in a deadlock.

Detective Ropes held his head in his hands and was shaking his head slowly with a frustrated expression lining his thin lips. "Harry," he said briskly, every muscle in his face tensing, "we're not getting anywhere. Let's go over it again."

"Again?" Harry thunked the back of his head against the stiff wooden chair in exasperation.

"Again," Detective Ropes echoed, sighing and sinking into his leather chair. Oh, how Harry was beginning to envy that leather chair!

"Hermione and I were eating lunch with our friend Guy, because we all had the same lunch period. Hermione got the letter--"

"This letter?" Detective Ropes held up the now-crinkled parchment, which he had done so each and every time Harry had told the story. By this time, he didn't wait for the routine answer. "Go on," he prodded. The detective sounded exhausted--and even worse, bored.

"Hermione got the letter," Harry said again, through gritted teeth, "and Guy was teasing her. She was dupposedly going to visit her ex-boyfriend, a family friend visiting from France. We said that we'd miss each other, and then we got up to go to the common room, since we had a little while before Archery class. She seemed a little forgetful and lightheaded, so I told her to sleep off Archery, and I'd see her at dinner."

"At dinner," Detective Ropes repeated.

"I went to rest on the couch and felt very tired but happy--later I found out that it was from the Novocain spell."

"The Novocain spell."

"Yes, the Novocain spell," Harry replied dryly. This repetition thing was getting on his nerves--why wouldn't this arse just go and find her instead of listening to Harry's unhelpful account for the fifth time. "Dean woke me up, and I had forgotten about some recent events. Nar Litkins nullified me to make me go to the infirmary and Dumbledore questioned me, although I don't remember that. When I woke up, Hermione came to say goodbye. She looked very... spacy, I guess. Staccatto. Detached. She said she would miss me. I fell back asleep, and woke up at eleven this morning. At noon I was alerted than she was missing."

Before Ropes could make any comments, whether it be a restatement of what Harry said or not, the door creaked open. "Harry," said the voice of Dumbledore. Then, it was directed towards the detective. "I need a word with Mr. Potter," Dumbledore said. The detective quickly excused himself and Dumbledore replaced him in the leather chair.

Ah! How nice it was to see a familiar, kindly face across from Harry after all these hours of seeing Ropes's abrasive, unsympathetic one. Harry welcomed the headmaster with a grateful smile, which was all he could muster.

"How are you holding up, Harry?" Dumbledore asked. Harry forced another weak smile, and Dumbledore nodded. "You're very strong, Harry, to not crack in the face of this. Stay strong. It's a redeeming quality.

"I'm here to help you piece this together. A flask with traces of the Imperius curse in potion form, first used by vampires to ensure that they'd have future rulers, was found shattered on Hermione's floor. Forensic and magical testing shows that it was there before lunch yesterday. It is believed that Hermione was under the Imperius curse at lunch when she received the letter.

"All of Hermione's documents were searched. It is written in her assignment log that she would be finishing her Potions packet of homework--I understand that Snape gave you fifty pages--over this vacation because her parents had plans to attend her mother's cousin's funeral in France during this week. Her parents were contacted in France, and hadn't the foggiest idea what the letter was all about. The portkey behind the hut was a decoy. It leads to the Quidditch pitch, not Hermione's home. And there was no special permission attained for her to see her family over vacation."

"She came to visit me," said Harry softly. "In the infirmary, when I was recovering, she came. And she was crying."

"I imagine that any emotion shown towards you--whether it be that she missed or loved you--was a result of her fighting the curse. I must say, however, that even a strong witch like her would have nearly impossible odds of beating this liquidized Imperius curse," said Dumbledore gravely. "I'm very sorry, Harry. We haven't a clue where Hermione could be."

"But she disappeared right before my eyes didn't she? DIDN'T SHE?" Harry jumped up, his eyes mad with rage. "I was under the Novocain spell--I saw it all, but I didn't even notice. Didn't even care! I'm a powerful wizard, why couldn't I overcome it!" Harry tossed Ropes's snow globe across the room. It shattered and the water flowed everywhere.

"Harry!" Dumbledore said sternly. "Strong! You must stay strong. We will all collapse if you can't.

"I WAS RIGHT THERE!" Harry wailed. He began to cry softly as he sank back into the hard, unforgiving chair. "I was... right... there..." A tear streamed down his cheek leaving a perfect streak. A mark that was temporary. A trail that would wash away. But the bleeding of his heart was not something that would go away with the wipe of a tissue.

Harry erupted from his chair once more; it wobbled and then fell onto its side. He staggered towards the door, as if there was a magnet drawing his hand to the doorknob. The door flew open, and light from the main office streamed into the dimly lit room of the Minsitry.

"Harry," Dumbledore said urgently, rising from the chair. "Harry, where are you going?"

"To do what these damn detectives should be: to find Hermione." And the door slammed shut behind him.

Dumbledore felt his hands shaking as he slipped back into the chair. "Oh dear," he murmured to the silent room. "Oh dear."



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A/N: Thanks everyone! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and the next one will be soon! I hope you're grateful :o) Cuz I wrote this all tonight when I should have been studying for my 4 tests tomorrow. AHHHHH!

P.S. No spell checker in notepad. Sorry, I'll go back and revise later!!!