Author's Notes: I'm so excited! I just might get this fic done before June 21st! *Does a happy dance* I've got the next few chapters written, though they are in need of muchos revision, and then there's only one or two more chapters after that! So I can enjoy OotP in peace, and you can all stop threatening me with death and/or bodily harm because of evil cliffhangers! Hooray! Go, Silver Phoenix, go!

***

"Rodge!"

"Mmff," was Roger Ramone's muffled reply as he rolled over in bed and buried his face in his pillow. It couldn't have possibly been morning yet; it was still pitch dark outside. He tried vainly to return to the brilliant dream he'd just been having. A Hippogriff had been loose in the school on Halloween, and he and Paul had gone off bravely to fight it. They had just been saving Flora Canter from the mad Hippogriff in the girl's toilets, of all places…

"Roger, wake up you prat! You have to see this!" Paul hissed, yanking the pillow out from beneath his best friend's head and then beating him mercilessly with it. An irritable Roger finally slid out of bed and fell onto the cold, dormitory floor, where he grabbed his emergency pillow (for occasions such as these) out from under his bed and prepared to launch a counter-attack. But Paul had already dropped the pillow and was trying to drag the still-sleepy Roger onto his feet and over to the window.

"What time s'it?" Roger asked in a slurred, drowsy voice.

"Nearly five a.m.," Paul replied, sounding excited.

Elijah McKenzie, one of their roommates (the other, Ryan McNeal, was quite ill and had been away from school for a few months now), was already staring, dumbstruck, out the window at something. Roger felt himself being pushed towards the window rather roughly, and yawned loudly before peering out the window sleepily at what all the hubbub was about. His eyebrows shot up.

Outside, scattered about the Hogwarts grounds, were a number of adult wizards in identical, long black cloaks. They were swarming about everywhere; some were following the long path leading to the gates, others were searching the Forbidden Forest, and still others were performing spells here and there on the rolling lawns, creating brilliant flashes of light which illuminated the dark grounds.

Astonished at this bizarre sight, Roger, no longer sleepy in the least, stuck his head farther out the window in an attempt to get a closer look. It didn't help much, as the wizards were so far away that they appeared only as only tiny, dark figures, but as he blinked away drowsiness, Roger could clearly see that they sure weren't teachers. And he was sure that one of the strange men – a grizzled, older fellow who seemed to be in charge – was walking with a limp. Roger furrowed his eyebrows. No, it wasn't a limp…it looked more like a peg leg…

***

"She's been under Imperius, all right. A damn strong curse, too. Whoever put it on her was quite the powerful bastard. I'm surprised she was able to fight it at all," Owen Darnell said grimly, lifting Hermione's chin to look into her eyes. She stared dully back at him, her eyes dark and unfocused, and her face so pale it was almost translucent. A thick blanket was wrapped around Hermione's shoulders, and she was sitting right in front of a roaring fire, but she still shivered. She had quieted considerably since they had brought her and Ron back into the castle and up to Dumbledore's office. Hermione seemed to have gone into a state of shock.

Harry and Ron were not far off; Harry was pacing the room, and Ron was standing rigidly a few feet away, aching to rush over to Hermione's side. But he contented himself with simply clenching his fists so hard that his fingernails dug into his palm. He finally relaxed his grip as Darnell finished his inspection and announced, "But she doesn't seem to be physically hurt at all. The poor thing has just had a bit of a shock." Darnell reached into his robes and drew out a small flask of a copper-coloured liquid. He screwed off the lid and pushed the bottle into Hermione's hands.

"There you are…drink up now, there's a good lass," Darnell said encouragingly. Hands trembling, Hermione slowly lifted the flask to her lips and drank. She immediately started coughing and pushed the bottle back towards Darnell as Ron stepped forward in alarm.

"What sort of potion is that?" Ron demanded as Hermione's coughing eventually stopped and she shook her head, looking slightly more alert and a bit flushed in the face.

The Scotsman smiled faintly, though his eyes were as grave as Harry's looked. "It's not a potion. It's brandy. Better at reviving people than any potion I've ever seen. And it'll do her good…she's frozen solid, she is. It'll warm her up a bit."

Ron nodded and bent down in front of Hermione, searching her eyes. "You all right?" he asked softly.

Hermione took a deep breath and nodded mutely. Ron gently kissed her cheek and then stood and exchanged glances with Harry, as they waited for Dumbledore, Moody, and his men to return.

The last few hours had been only a blur to an exhausted and panicked Ron. He vaguely remembered telling Harry what had happened, and Harry's face going very pale. Then Moody and the other Aurors had suddenly been there, and hands had been guiding both him and Hermione back to the castle, while dark-cloaked figures remained to inspect the grounds for any sign of the Portkey or the scrolls. Ron remembered people talking in low voices, and Dumbledore's office swimming before his eyes more than once; and then Madam Pomfrey had arrived in a bright orange nightgown. After she had cleaned both him and Hermione up, Ron remembered her giving him something to fight his fatigue, although there hadn't been much the hospital matron could do to cure Hermione's current state of mind. That had been nearly an hour ago, and things had slowly begun coming into sharper focus for Ron. But as his senses had returned, so had his panic, fear, and dread of whatever had just happened that night on the Hogwarts grounds.

Darnell had walked over to the enormous window in Dumbledore's office, hands in his pockets, and now returned, sighing. He stooped down in front of Hermione and held a hand to her forehead. Owen shook his head.

"Ron, this woman is sick," Owen said in a low voice. "She's burning up. I'm sure walking around outside in the middle of the night in February probably has something to do with it, but…"

Ron just shook his head at Darnell; he didn't need him to continue. Ron felt so guilty and angry at himself that it was almost making him physically sick. Hermione had been sick for a long time; Ron was sure of that now. But he had been such an idiot – he'd been so excited and involved in their research that he had nearly forgotten who was driving him to do it in the first place. Ron had been so intent on finding a cure for the Scroll of Malady to protect Hermione that he'd failed to notice when Hermione had actually succumbed to the magical sickness.

Harry walked over as Ron felt his throat close up. "She's a Muggle-born," Harry explained grimly to Owen, his voice cracking as he said it. Darnell didn't reply, and Hermione just looked at the floor, avoiding Ron's eyes.

"I'm fine," she insisted in a hoarse voice; it was the first thing she'd said since they'd brought her up there. "I just feel…" She closed her eyes painfully and swallowed her words. "Oh my God. What have I done?" she choked out instead, putting a hand to her ashen forehead.

"This is not your fault, Hermione," Harry said adamantly as Ron swallowed painfully and reached for her cold, white hand. "Do you hear me? It wasn't your fault."

"And maybe they're not gone at all," Ron suggested soothingly. "Maybe they've found something outside. They have been out there awhile." But even he could not conceal the fact that his voice had no hope in it.

"I tried…to fight it…" Hermione said, tightening her hold on Ron's hand. "I tried…I'm so sorry…Rowan was right, my dream was warning me…" She took a deep, shaky breath, and squeezed Ron's hand until it was painful. "There was the voice in my head, like…like in my dream…telling me to find this chamber, by the light of the moon – "

"The chamber. It only appears on the full moon," Harry grimaced, glancing out at the full moon through the window. "How did you get in, Hermione?" he asked gently, returning his gaze to her. "We had that chamber hidden and protected with every spell imaginable. The professional curse-breakers had a hard time breaking them when we tested it."

"Hermione's better than a professional curse-breaker," Ron said wryly. "She's an Arithmancy professor."

Hermione turned very red and lowered her gaze to the ground. "I just knew…the counter-curses weren't so difficult to figure out, and I was so focused on getting in…" she trailed off, embarrassed."The voice kept urging me to do it, to keep going. And then it told me to take them, take the scrolls, and…"

Hermione went into a fit of hiccups as she valiantly tried not to cry again. She was a grown woman, a successful teacher, a mature adult; and yet she had been reduced to a sobbing child by this curse. Ron physically shook with rage; and he realized that his anger was only directed at himself. It was his fault for not protecting Hermione, for not taking better care of her, for failing to notice that the woman he claimed to be in love with was under the Imperius curse. Ron hated himself.

No, Ron thought bitterly, hate isn't strong enough. Abhor. Detest. Despise. It's your fault she's like this, Weasley. Your fault.

"I - I feel so…ugh…" Hermione continued, shuddering, "like they – they still have a hold of me…that they're still a part of me."

"Who, Hermione?" Ron asked, putting his personal feelings aside for a moment and daring to hope that she could give them some insight into the scrolls' location, before it was too late. "Who put the curse on you?"

"I…I can't remember…what happened right before…I only remember coming back to the castle, that voice whispering that I had to get them, or else…" Hermione trailed off and could only shake her head silently, pressing her lips together to keep from dissolving into tears. Ron stroked her hair with his free hand, feeling even guiltier for having asked her; she was sick, and she was still in shock. The questions would come in due time, but there was no point in making Hermione more upset right now than she already was.

"Where's Diana?" Hermione asked shakily of Harry, perhaps seeking to distract herself.

Harry nodded towards the window. "Out there, with the rest of the Aurors."

"You managed to get in contact with them on such short notice?" Ron said in surprise.

"Quite a few of them, yes. I sent a message to Moody as soon as you had told me what happened. You can't remember?"

"Not much of it. I was so…" Ron shook his head, feeling panic begin to creep up on him again. He was too afraid to even care that Moody now knew everything…about Hermione, Rowan, Arden, and their research. It seemed so trivial now. The scrolls could really be gone. The Muggle world could be in very, very grave danger.

Because there was no reversing the magic once all five scrolls had been used.

"Harry, what the hell are we going to do?" Ron asked desperately, his voice shaking.

"I don't know," Harry replied, his voice hoarse. "I honestly don't know."

"They can't be gone," Hermione whispered. "I'll never forgive myself. They can't."

"It's not your fault," Harry repeated again fervently, reaching out to hold Hermione's other hand tightly. She tried to smile gratefully up at him and Ron, squeezing both their hands. But it seemed that the muscles in her face were frozen in a look of panic and fear. Ron was sure that the same expression was reflected in his own face.

The three of them were silent for a moment; Ron chanced a glance at the big, ornate clock on the mantle of the fireplace in Dumbledore's office, and was surprised to see it was nearly morning. He couldn't believe that his entire world could be turned upside down in one night.

Ron glanced back at Harry, staring at his former partner. Just the fact that Harry was there, that Harry had come, was a miracle. Ron knew that their bond still existed, though it was now weak. Ron had been able to Apparate to Harry in Egypt, but he had not felt that his friend was in any distress before he had been told so. That Harry had heard Ron's mental and emotional call for help across the miles that night was astonishing.

Ron shook his head. "I called you," he said to Harry in disbelief.

Harry tried to smile. "And I came."

"They're coming back in," Darnell announced, moving from his station at the window. Harry released Hermione's hand and started pacing again. Ron felt his heart leap into his mouth, and the four of them waited an achingly long few minutes before they heard the tell-tale thunk, thunk, thunk of Moody's wooden leg as he climbed the stairs.

Silently, a group of wizards clad in black cloaks entered the office, followed closely by Alastor Moody, Albus Dumbledore, and to everyone's dismay, Sophia Foran.

"Who let her come?" Ron heard Joel Landers mutter in exasperation as Sophia, looking timid and out of place, scurried over to an out of the way corner. Ron ignored her and instead eagerly searched his colleague's grim faces. Among them were Joel, Jeremy Desiderius, Jameson Howe, Radcliff Mungston, Robbie Murdock, Ian Dion, Diana, and Sirius. And as Ron's eyes lingered on the grim faces of each one of his fellow Aurors, he felt his heart slide down his chest, until he was sure it had landed somewhere in his stomach.

"Did you find anything?" he asked anyway, feeling hope ebbing away every second.

Sirius glanced over to Hermione, a pitying look in his once vacant, sunken eyes. "Nothing," he said gravely. "…They're gone."

Harry swore under his breath and Darnell lowered his head. Ron heard Hermione inhale sharply, and he tightened his grip on her cool hand, until he was afraid he was cutting off her circulation. "You're sure…the Portkey, there's no sign of it?" Ron croaked.

"We only found the footsteps you two left in the ground on the path outside the gates," Moody answered, grimacing. "Whoever set it up was smart, I'll give 'em that…the Portkey couldn't have been an inch away from Hogwarts boundaries. There was no magic protecting the spot." He glanced at Hermione, sitting stiffly in her armchair. "You're lucky you got there in time, Weasley. Had you not stopped her then, she might have been made to touch the Portkey, too."

Ron's stomach lurched, and Hermione let out a strangled sound, leaning back against her armchair.

"So they're gone," Harry said, taking a deep breath. "All five scrolls…are gone."

"Our worse fear has come to pass," Dumbledore confirmed solemnly. Ron had never seen the old man look so grave. His words hit each of them like a ton of bricks, and caused the worst sort of silence to descend upon the office, punctured only by the muffled ticking of Dumbledore's old clock.

"So what are we all standing around for?" Ian Dion suddenly said sharply, surprising everyone. In all the time Ron had known him, he had only heard Dion speak a combined total of three sentences. "We're not going to just stand around all day and wait for the bloody Dark Hand to use them, are we?"

"Usually we need some sort of lead if we're going to do anything, Dion," Diana snapped.

"Will you two stop it?" Robbie interrupted, putting a hand to his greying temples. "We don't need this right now."

"Well," said Radcliff Mungston, a dark and wild-looking man around Ron's age. Ron remembered training with him when he and Harry had first decided to become Aurors. "If there's one person that can give us a bloody lead, it's her." He nodded at Hermione.

All eyes were suddenly on Hermione. Her bloodless lips opened and closed, and finally she managed to say, "I'm trying to remember," in a strained voice. "I can't…"

"What do you mean, you can't?" Jeremy Desiderius asked impatiently. The young, auburn-haired Auror had been best mates with Joel years ago, and had most likely become his partner when the two of them had been made full Aurors in Ron's absence from the Order. Ron had been rather fond of the kid; but right then, he felt like strangling him.

"I'm trying," Hermione repeated. "It's all muddled," she sounded frustrated and impatient with herself.

"Leave her alone for a moment," Ron snapped. He tried to ignore the fact that his hands were shaking with anger…or perhaps it was fear.  "She's just come out of a strong Imperius curse, she's still disoriented, and she's ill. Let her get her bearings – "

"We don't have time for her to get her bearings!" Joel exclaimed anxiously.

"May I make a suggestion?" Sophia squeaked from the corner. "Perhaps if we all sat down, got organized…"

"No!" a number of people shouted.

Sirius, Harry, Diana and Radcliff all started talking again at the same time, and then the others eventually joined in, until nearly everyone was arguing. Their bickering echoed loudly in the circular room, and Ron's head began to ache. Only Dumbledore stood apart from the rest of them, quiet. He closed his crinkled eyes, as if in pain.

"Silence!" Dumbledore suddenly thundered. His strong voice reverberated throughout the room, causing small trinkets and devices scattered on the Headmaster's desk to shake. The voice throbbed in each of their heads and cleared their minds. Everyone seemed to falter in mid-sentence. Like guilty children, the Aurors lapsed into silence and waited for the Headmaster to speak again.

"We are all very frightened right now. And fear can easily lead to anger," Dumbledore said, his voice now quiet yet authoritative. "In fact, right now, our fear is our enemy's greatest weapon against us. We now face a very grave and dangerous situation, yet panicking and bickering have never solved anything in the past. I believe there is still hope; but hope can only be nurtured through teamwork and co-operation," the Headmaster said solemnly. He gazed at them all, boring into each of them in turn with his piercing blue eyes. "Let us remain calm, and examine the facts. The most important element is time. The first question is, how much of it do we have?"

"That box was protected by dozens of charms and spells," Robbie offered after a guilt-ridden silence on behalf of all present. "It would take a very advanced wizard…days to get it open, at the very least."

"We're not dealing with very advanced wizards. We're dealing with very advanced Dark wizards," Sirius reminded him. "It'll be open in a matter of hours."

"The rituals," Harry said hopefully. "They can only be performed at night, right? It's nearly six in the morning right now, so they won't be able to perform the rituals tonight. They'll have to wait until sundown tomorrow."

"So we have approximately twelve hours before they're able to perform the rituals and read the scrolls," Ron said bleakly.

"Twelve hours is a lot of time," Moody barked. It was his attempt at optimism.

"Alastor is quite correct. If we manage our time wisely, I believe we still have hope," Dumbledore insisted matter-of-factly. He crossed the room to the armchair in which Hermione was still sitting. "Hermione," the Headmaster said gently. "I am going to have to ask you to try. Try to remember, anything at all. We need to know who was responsible for putting you under Imperius."

"I can't!" Hermione replied in frustration. "There's a Block…or…or something. I don't know if it's magic, or…everything's a mess, everything's muddled. I can't remember what happened before, and what happened during is just…blurry." She shuddered violently.

"What do you think? A Memory Charm?" Moody grunted.

"I doubt it," Dumbledore replied quietly. "It's selective memory loss. She's right; it is most likely a Block."

"We could break it," Jameson suggested carefully. He looked as if she didn't like the sound of his own idea, however.

"No," Ron said immediately and harshly. Breaking a Memory Block was nasty business.

"It was brilliant," Sirius murmured. "They knew the scrolls were at Hogwarts, and they couldn't get into the castle themselves…so they used her to do it for them. They must have seen their opportunity at the banquet…and the Portkey, right outside the gates…"

"But it doesn't make any sense," Diana argued. "They couldn't have just 'seen their opportunity'…this was planned, it had to be. They had to set up the Portkey for tonight, didn't they? It was a full moon. This was orchestrated carefully."

"Damn it!" Harry suddenly swore. "They had to have been at the banquet! That's why we couldn't get in those doors. They wanted us out while they performed the Unforgivable on Hermione!"
And who was lurking around at the banquet? Ron reminded himself, feeling his wrath consume him again. Stark and Malfoy…

"Yet how would they have known where to send her? How would they have found out that the scrolls were at Hogwarts in the first place? And about the chamber they were hidden in?" Radcliff mused.

Ron remained silent, a steadfast statue at Hermione's side. Rowan and Arden would not have told. They could not have told. Then again, he had not spoken to either of them about the chamber in which the scrolls had been hidden. Ron breathed again, relieved.

"The Pensieve," Harry said suddenly, looking over in Jeremy's direction. He was standing right in front of the cupboard containing the silver basin.

"What?" Jeremy turned around and glanced at the stone basin. "What about it?"

"Hermione, you can try to dump everything you do remember into the Pensieve," Harry said, quickly crossing the room and extending his hand to help his friend up. Hermione slowly took it, and Harry pulled her out of the armchair, leading her towards the silver basin. "If there is a Block that means that the memories aren't erased…they're just cut off from you. Maybe if you could put them into the Pensieve…it would give us a chance to step back and take a look at things. And you'll feel better once you've gotten rid of everything; you won't feel so muddled or disoriented."

Hermione stared at her old friend, a bit of light coming back into her dark eyes as she dared to hope. "Give it a try, for me, Hermione," Harry pleaded, releasing her hands.

Everyone else was silent, admiring this stroke of brilliance on Harry's part, or perhaps anxiously awaiting its outcome. Hermione reached into her robes – still the airy, pale blue dress robes which she'd worn to the banquet, and which had been her only protection outside in the frigid, February night – and drew her wand. Hesitantly, she put the wand to her forehead and closed her eyes. A heavy silence pervaded the room.

"What's supposed to happen now?" Hermione asked in an unsure voice, eyes still closed.

"Allow yourself to empty all of your thoughts into your wand," Dumbledore coached her. "Let all your memories of the night go."

Hermione frowned and then drew away her wand with a great sigh of relief from the pressure of whatever those thoughts contained. A thin spindle of silver dangled from her wand. Slowly she added the silver thread to the basin, her wand causing the Pensieve's ethereal contents to swirl about. She stepped away, looking exhausted, and Ron quickly slid his arm around her waist and allowed her to lean on him for support. She was breathing quickly, as if out of breath. Alarmed, Ron tightened his grip on her. Jocelyn Coles had been short of breath as well that day in class so long ago, just before she had fainted.

"Do you see anything?" Diana asked as Harry peered closely at the Pensieve. He picked up the heavy stone basin and placed it on Dumbledore's large desk. Everyone silently crowded around to watch.

The images in the Pensieve were short and fleeting. Stark's face swam within its depths, as well as Malfoy's. Then suddenly the scene switched to outside, at night; when Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Diana had been talking outside the banquet hall. Hermione's own face appeared quickly, pale and thin – she must have been looking into a mirror. Then there was an empty hallway, and Nicholas Foran speaking with a smile.

Beside Ron, Hermione suddenly sucked in a breath and squeezed Ron's arm very hard. She closed her eyes tightly, as if in pain. Ron anxiously tore his eyes away from her, bringing his attention back to the Pensieve. He had to see who had done this to her.

The images sped up, blurred together. One moment Foran was smiling, the next, he was smirking sinisterly. Sophia cautiously ventured over to the desk, eyebrows furrowed as she watched the blurred scene continue to play out.

There was a simultaneous gasp of disbelief from the people gathered around the Pensieve as in the basin, Nicholas Foran, Head of the Department of Magical Law, took out his wand and mouthed a word that couldn't have been anything other than, "Imperio!"

The contents of the basin returned to being a half-liquid, half-gaseous, swirling substance.

Ron's jaw fell open in complete shock. The group gathered in the office could only stand there silently, dumbstruck. Hermione finally released her claw-like grip on Ron's arm; he was sure there would be a bruise there.

"It's impossible," Sophia Foran finally whispered, taking a step backwards. "She's lying! This is all…all…she has to be lying!" she said shrilly, her voice rising.

Hermione said nothing; she only pushed her cracked lips together very tightly and stared at the ground. Even Dumbledore and Moody looked completely astonished.

"You cannot lie to a Pensieve," Dumbledore said slowly, more to himself than Sophia. The Headmaster looked completely taken aback. "Your memories do not lie…"

"Why?" Moody growled softly, still staring at the Pensieve. "Nick…why the hell would you?"

Sophia's chest heaved up and down. "He wouldn't! He couldn't!" she cried.

"Then where is he right now? Why isn't he here?" Joel Landers asked quietly. It was the question they had all been asking themselves, but no one had been daring enough to voice it.

"He's in a meeting! At the Ministry!" Sophia said defensively, looking panicked. "He wouldn't…" she repeated.

"That was how the Dark Hand must have known the scrolls were here at Hogwarts," Robbie pointed out gravely. "They had an inside source."

"But…Nicholas Foran…" Sirius shook his head in disbelief.

"The most unlikely suspect…" Dumbledore said to himself in quiet astonishement, bowing his head.

"Well," Moody finally said, collecting himself. "Howe, Murdock, Dion, Mungston, Darnell…I want you to Apparate to the Ministry immediately. Find Nick…find Foran and…" he shook his head, "and take him into custody," he finished incredulously, as if disbelieving the words which were coming out of his own mouth.

"What?!" Sophia screamed. "You can't do that! You have no proof!"

"The proof's right there, lass," Darnell said gently, gesturing to the Pensieve.

"But…but…what if he was under Imperius, too?" Sophia challenged.

"It's impossible to perform the Imperius curse while under it yourself," Harry murmured from the opposite side of the room, having resumed his pacing. Diana laid a hand on his shoulder as he passed by her and Harry stopped walking, sighing deeply and shaking his head.

"But…but…" Sophia was looking desperate now. "You all know my father, he would never…" she looked around frantically, and seeing the stoic faces of all those gathered there, she gave a cry of helplessness. Pushing by Joel Landers, she fled from the office.

"Landers, Desiderius, can you find that girl before she does something foolish?" Moody ordered with a sigh, massaging his temples. Joel and Jeremy both nodded, and then quickly followed Sophia. Their heavy boots thumped down the spiral staircase, and gradually faded away.

"Foran's our only lead, then," Sirius said to Mad-Eye, still looking shocked, but prepared to grimly continue on with the business at hand. "Depending on just how in he was with the Dark Hand, he could tell us a lot."

"Drago, how long would it take you to whip up a strong batch of Veritaserum?" Moody demanded.

"Six hours," Diana said automatically. "You have to allow it to sit for two hours before adding the earwigs, and then it has to sit for another four hours after that…"

"We only have twelve hours!" Ron exclaimed in frustration.

"Get started on it immediately," Moody said. Diana nodded and, with a last glance at her partner, Disapparated.

"Meanwhile, we'll have to try to crack him the old-fashioned way…" Moody continued, glancing over to Jameson, Ian, Radcliff, Owen, and Robbie. "What are you clowns waiting for?" he barked. "I said to find him and make the arrest. I'll be there in a few moments."

The group of Aurors nodded and Disapparated with a sequence of pops, wands drawn. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Moody, and Dumbledore now remained in the office, which suddenly felt small and stifling despite the fact that fewer people remained in it. Ron felt claustrophobic. He understood why Hermione could hardly breathe; their own fear was choking them.

"I have to sit down," Hermione suddenly muttered in embarrassment, breaking the silence. Ron quickly helped her back over to the armchair, which she gratefully sunk into.

"You remember what happened now," Ron asked softly, brushing her hair out of her face. It was more of a statement than a question; he had seen the pained look on her face as she had watched the Pensieve. "You're sure it was Foran? You weren't just imagining – "

"I'm not crazy," Hermione muttered. But she closed her eyes and wrinkled her forehead, thinking. "But…"

"You've been through quite a lot tonight, Hermione," Dumbledore interrupted sombrely. "I will not ask you to trouble yourself further. Thank you for all your…co-operation." He shook his head. "Ron, you may escort Professor Granger back to her chambers. She needs rest."

"In a minute," Hermione said, shaking her head and still breathing heavily. "Just let me catch my breath…"

"We'll have to head back to the Ministry," Moody told Dumbledore.

The Headmaster nodded. "I'll accompany you. I want to be there when they…arrest Nicholas. If we have any hope of getting information from him, this has to be handled delicately."

"Let's go, then," Harry said, casting one last, worried look at Hermione. "We've already wasted almost two of our twelve hours."

Ron glanced at them, feeling torn. He couldn't just stay at Hogwarts while the rest of them went back to the Ministry to fight for Hermione's and countless other Muggles' lives. He couldn't just be kept in the dark; he needed to know if Foran was indeed guilty, if they were making any progress, if they had found Malfoy and Stark, and if those two were really behind the Dark Hand.

But then again, he couldn't just leave Hermione either. He had neglected her before, when their research had been all-important to him. He had even failed to notice that she had been under the Imperius curse. He could have prevented all of this, had he only paid a little bit more attention to Hermione that night…

Ron made up his mind; this time, he would choose Hermione.

He took her fragile, white hands in his. "Good luck," Ron said hoarsely to the remaining people there.

Harry nodded to him as Dumbledore and Moody disappeared. Ron's former partner and best friend then took a deep breath and looked to his godfather, who clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"All right?" Sirius said quietly.

"Yeah. Let's go." With a last look at his friends, Harry Potter Disapparated with Sirius Black close on his heels, and Ron and Hermione were left alone, to wait and hope that that group of people could save Muggle-kind from the impending crisis.

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It has recently come to my attention that there are many reviewers who have remained loyal and true to me from the beginning…and others who are just damn hilarious. These fine people deserve shout-outs…and shout-outs they will get. Maybe, one day, if you're loyal and/or damn hilarious, you will get one too.

Phoenix Fan: You have the alliteration thing going on, you got two people to read Slap and one person to read Bury the Hatchet, and you devoted an entire review to getting this shout-out. So shout-out you get.

Araedhel: To the number two fan of Bury the Hatchet, and the number one fan of this fic…thanks for all your honesty and criticism and mocking and the insistence that poor Snape got gypped in Bury the Hatchet because he couldn't have had the purest love for Harry. Way to stand up for good 'ol Snape, and thanks for pointing out my error-filled ways. Cheers.

Trina-k: I think you've reviewed for almost every chapter. Well done. ^_^

LKoK: You want me dead because I keep creating cliffhangers and I think that hey, that deserves a shout-out too. Hooray!

Potty For Potter: Yet another loyal chapter-by-chapter reviewer. Not to mention your name is a clever play on words, and you share my love for Ewan McGregor. Good job!

The Man-Eating Dust Bunny: I love your name.

Moine Weasley: You also review almost every chapter. Thank ye kindly!

Lady knight of kennan: Your random spazzing-out attack in Chapter 17 was humorous and amusing. Cheers.

Fanciful Sovereign: I feel special that I didn't use something which conflicted with your irrational pet peeve. Irrational pet peeves are fun. And you called me cunning! So shout-out for you.

Carlyd: Thanks for reviewing even without a review song. You also made me laugh. "Panic! Panic!" Ah, good times.

Queen-Esther: Not only does your name bring back horrible memories of Chemistry, but then you had to go and predict the Nick Foran thing way back in Chapter 9! You're just all about showing me up, aren't you? Just joking…I kid because I love…

The Madisons: I still have trouble telling the both of you apart, but you both review faithfully, so kudos to you both!

Enelya: You review quite often, and showed interest in Cross Country Canada. Bless your little heart.

That's all, for now…I'm sure I missed many, but there will be more shout-outs to come…thanks to all of you for reviewing, and for appreciating my zany wackiness in author's notes and the like. Seriously, this fic changed and mutated so often, and all for the better, because of your reviews. I especially need feedback for this chapter, so I can revise the next few with your amazing suggestions and get them up ASAP! So keep reviewin', and…uh…insert another inspirational quote here!