CHAPTER FOURTEEN: Sacrificial Magic

Heavy snow had begun to fall by the time the train full of Hogwarts students pulled in to platform nine and three quarters. Mrs. Weasley was crowded with the other parents on the platform, waiting for Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione to disembark. The four of them soon discovered that Mrs. Weasley was not alone. Tonks, Moody, Lupin, and Ron's brother Bill were standing off to the side a short distance away.

Mrs. Weasley embraced Hermione first, holding her close as if she were her own child. "I'm so sorry about your mother, dear."

Hermione pulled out of the hug, giving the older woman a small smile. Hermione, who had been in complete control of her emotions for weeks, felt some of that control slipping away at Molly's words. She was such a wonderful person and mother. Ron and Ginny were lucky to have such a person looking out for them. She moved aside so Molly could hug each of her children, and then of course, Harry.

Shortly after, Mrs. Weasley guided them towards Moody and the others, who lead them towards the two cars parked out in front of the station. Ron, Hermione, and Harry climbed into one car with Moody and Tonks, while Ginny and her mother shared the other one with Lupin and Bill.

The car ride to Grimmauld Place was a short, but a silent one, much like the train ride from Hogwarts had been, Ron noted. Hermione had read a bit, while he and Harry had entertained themselves with Quidditch talk and taking turns skimming through the latest issue of Quidditch Weekly, which had just arrived the other day.

The snow was still falling steadily when they arrived at Grimmauld Place, but it wasn't quite as heavy now. Moody magicked all their luggage and brought it inside after them.

Mrs. Weasley barely had her coat off before she began talking about preparing lunch. Twenty minutes later they were all seated in the dining room, with a table full of large sandwiches and side dishes.

Mrs. Weasley tried to encourage Hermione to eat more, even though she had a decent sized sandwich and some coleslaw on her plate. She had the feeling that Hermione hadn't been eating that much lately. "Hermione, dear, have another sandwich," she said.

"Mum," Ron said warningly, stepping in on Hermione's behalf. He hoped she would get the message and back off. Hermione was not going to respond well to being treated like a child.

"It's all right, Ron," she assured him, knowing his mother meant well. "Maybe I'll have another one after," she told her.

Ron was shocked to see his mother accept that answer and not push the matter further, but he should have figured that by Hermione's tone she was not going to allow herself to be bullied into doing anything she didn't want to. He wondered what his mother was going to say when she found out about the two of them. He was beginning to wonder if they should even say anything at all because she was bound to put into effect some house rules for the two of them. As long as Harry and Ginny kept their mouths shut, and he had no doubt that Harry would, everything would be fine. The only other person to worry about was Lupin. He had seen the way they had been at the hospital, but Lupin didn't seem like the kind of person who would go telling their mother about their relationship.

Looking over at Harry, he seemed to be handling the idea of him and Hermione together a lot better now. Then again, sometimes with Harry you never really knew what was going on in that head of his. Ron figured the next couple of weeks would really prove if Harry was all right with them being together. Ron hoped he was because he was counting on an argument-free holiday.

On her first night back at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Hermione found herself going through fitful bursts of sleep until she couldn't take the constant tossing and turning anymore and got up. She slipped on her dressing gown and as quietly as she could, pulled out a book she had buried at the bottom of her trunk. Then she silently crept downstairs, hoping that no one else in the house would hear her up at such a late hour.

She didn't want to risk turning on any lights until she was safely inside the den. Fortunately for her she found her way easily through the dark and did not bump into anything, which would have likely sent the portrait of Mrs. Black into a screaming frenzy and woken the entire house. She entered the small den, lighting one of the oil lamps – and nearly let out a scream when she saw she was not the only one in the room.

"Sorry," Harry apologized sheepishly, from where he sat in one of the room's two armchairs. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's all right," Hermione said, her heartbeat yet to return to normal. "I just wasn't expecting anyone else to be up."

"I was suffering from insomnia, but that's nothing new," he returned with a small smile. "It seems to get worse when I'm here," he admitted.

She knew the likely cause of it was Sirius, but she also knew she couldn't say that to him. Until he broached the subject of his godfather's death first, it would do no good to bring it up. He would shut her out, just like he had Ron every time either one of them mentioned Sirius Black's name.

"Mind if I ask what's keeping you awake?" He said to her.

"I just have a lot on my mind, is all."

"You could borrow the book Lupin gave me on meditation techniques. It works most of the time."

"But you're still up," she was quick to point out.

"I said most of the time, but I'm no expert at it. Some nights no matter what I do I can't get it to work."

She figured she should probably take him up on his offer. At the very least It wouldn't hurt to try. Her sleep patterns had become very erratic as of late.

"What's that book in your hands?"

She noticed then she had been holding it right out in front of her, allowing Harry to get a good look at it. She mentally cursed herself for it. She should have been more careful then that.

"I thought maybe some reading would help me get to sleep," she said, placing it on a table out of Harry's direct line of sight.

But her efforts to hide it were unsuccessful because the damage had already been down. "That doesn't look like the kind of book you would fall asleep to. It looks a lot like something you would get out of the restricted section at the library."

"Well, it's not, Harry."

"Then what is it?" He pressed, more than a little suspicious now. "I don't think I've seen you reading that one before." He got out of the chair and tried to see passed her to what was in her hands.

"You've never cared about what I read before," she said, trying to block it from view.

"You've never tried to hide what you were reading before," he countered. He got tired of trying to peak at over her shoulder and just grabbed it instead. His Quidditch reflexes allowed him to have it his hands before she could even try and stop him. He read the title off the cover – Sacrificial Spells: Protecting Those You Love. He gave her a sharp look. "What are you doing with this?" He hissed.

"It's not what you think," she said, trying to grab it back from him but he moved her out of her grasp.

"This book is in the restricted section for a reason, Hermione. How did you get this out of there without Madame Pince noticing?"

"Like you, me, and Ron have never used books from the Restricted Section before," she said with a note of irritation.

"This is completely different. You shouldn't be messing around with this stuff."

"Harry, I think I can replicate a protection spell smilar to the one your mother put on you."

The mention of his mother seemed to take away some of his anger. "Hermione, it doesn't work anymore. Voldemort performed that spell in fourth year so he would be able to touch me and he can."

"But the spell is still in you, I'm sure of it. There is no magic more powerful than that of someone who sacrificed themself – who loved someone else so much – they were willing to die for them. That kind of magic doesn't just fade away. It leaves a permanent imprint on you."

"My mum may have died to save me, but I'm not going to let anyone else do the same," he said, his voice shaking. "Nobody is deserving of that kind of protection."

"Nobody has to die, Harry."

"That's the way sacrificial spells work – "

"It's more complicated than that," she cut him off. "In order for any sort of sacrificial magic to work the intent has to be pure. The spell I want to do is almost the opposite of what your mother did. Instead of us giving up our lives to save someone, we would use the magic to keep someone who's been severely injured alive, or even bring back someone who's only been dead a short time. I'd say no longer than fifteen minutes. After that you move into zombie territory," she said with a shudder. "It's the same general idea as the sacficial spell your mother performed on you. You have to show you are willing to give up your live to save another, but that doesn't mean you have to actually sacrifice your life," she added quickly when he looked ready to interrupt. "As long as the intention is there the magic will work. I don't think it could ever be as strong as the one your mother put on you because the bond between a mother and her child is unbreakable. Anyways, this is only a temporary solution. I'm still researching spells for you to defend yourself against Voldemort with."

"So what are you saying?" He was already regretting asking the question. He should not have been encouraging her about this.

"With the necessary precautions taken, I think I can create a protection barrier to encompass you, me, and Ron. Since there's never been a record of a protection spell encompassing three people, that would weaken the magic somewhat and that means at least one of us would need to be close to the injured person to keep them alive."

His brain was swimming with all this information she was throwing at him. "What do you mean 'keep them alive'?"

"As I mentioned before, not all sacrificial spells involve a person having to actually give their life. You just need to be willing to give up a part of yourself to save that person."

"What part?" He asked darkly. "Hermione?" He pressed when she didn't answer.

"Your soul," she finally answered. "It's what makes you who you are and many Healers have changed their thinking to believe the soul is the most powerful part of the human body. By giving up a part of who you are – the strongest part – is what strengthens the other person enough to save their live."

By the amount of knowledge she had acquired on the subject she had to have been researching it for some time – far too much time in Harry's opinion. "You can't play around with this kind of magic, or weren't you paying attention in Binns classes? There's reasons why people don't try sacrificial spells whenever they're worried something bad is going to happen. The kind of power it involves is beyond most wizard's comprehension. If it was that easy Dumbledore would have cast a spell around me after the one my mum did no longer worked."

"Harry, I'm talking about saving someone's life when there's nothing modern magic could do for them," she persisted, desperate to make him understand. "With the right controls in place – "

"One of the first things we were ever taught was magic is not to be used to alter the natural course of life. Horrific things have happened to those who tried."

She was growing more furious with him by the second. "How can you say that? No one who has suffered at the hands of a Death Eater deserved to die. Are you saying Sirius deserved to die? That your parents did?"

He had known from the start what this had been about, but he didn't think it possible for Hermione's grief to blind her into this kind of bad judgment. "Hermione, please, leave this alone," Harry pleaded with her. "There's too much that could go wrong with this. This kind of magic is beyond even you."

"I'm well aware of my own capabilities, Harry," she said sharply.

"You wouldn't even be looking into this if it wasn't for what happened to your mother." He knew he had gone too far now with that comment, but he didn't see any other way to get through to her. He had to make her see how dangerous this was. "You should talk to someone."

She let out a short laugh. "That's rich coming from you, Harry. You've made a career out of avoiding dealing with things. You're angry with everyone and you blame yourself for Sirius' death. You stopped the DA lessons not because you don't think we need them anymore, but because you don't care anymore. You're sick of the fighting and the dying and just want it to be over. In case you haven't noticed, you're not the only one who's fighting this war. Everyone else has just as much to lose, but you're too absorbed in your own pain and self-pity to notice that." This time when she went to grab for the book in his hands, he didn't resist. She knew in the morning she was going to regret saying those things to him, but at the moment she was too worked up to care how much she had hurt him.

Hermione had been right about the guilt factor. It was in full effect when she awoke the next morning. But because she was leaving with Ron's dad first thing so she could visit her own father, Harry was still sleeping when she left. She would have to try and apologize to him later. Maybe then he would be more willing to listen to reason when it came to using sacrificial magic. Even more so, she was going to need Harry on her side if she wanted to have any chance of convincing Ron of what she wanted to do.

She and Mr. Weasley caught a port key a few streets over that took them all the way to the abandoned department store Purge & Dowse Ltd. Mr. Weasley spoke to one of the chipped dummies in the window, telling it the name of the patient they were there to visit. Once the dummy nodded its approval and beckoned them forward, Hermione and Arthur Weasley stepped through the window of class, emerging in the hospital reception area.

They walked up to the reception desk, where the bored looking witch sat there, listening to a wizard talk her ear off about how his wand had backfired and was now covered from head to toe in downy fur. As soon as he paused for breath she told him to walk around to the end of the corridor to where the wand accident ward was.

Once the wizard was out of the way, Hermione moved forward. "I'm here to see Jack Granger."

The witch ran her finger down the long parchment list in front of her. She looked up and handed Hermione a small piece of parchment. "Sign here."

Hermione checked off that she was here as a visitor, and that her destination was the fourth floor curse wing before signing her name and handing the paper back to receptionist.

It was a new patient visiting procedure created by the ministry, which was being extremely cautious since the attacks on the smaller wizarding communities nearly two weeks ago. Every one who entered St. Mungo's was required by magical law to sign in and state their purpose there. There were also two patrolling Aurors on every floor. Hermione had read in the Prophet that anti-deception charms had been placed at the entrance to refuse entry to anyone who was hiding their true appearance. She bet Tonks was thrilled about that.

Ron's dad left her after she had signed in, telling her Lupin was going to come by around noon to take her back to Grimmauld Place. She then climbed the stairway that would take her to the fourth floor.

She walked in to her father's room, expecting to find him lying in bed still recovering, but the bed was made when she walked in. He was by the window, wrapped in a hospital robe, looking outside. The only other occupant in the room had the curtains closed around their bed. Her father gave her a warm smile when he saw her.

"I almost didn't recognize you not lying in bed," she said coming around and giving him a quick hug. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better, sweetheart," he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "I spoke with the doctor yesterday and he said another week or so and I should finally be able to get out of here."

"That's great news, dad."

And it was, except it was dampened somewhat by the fact that he didn't exactly have a home to go to at the moment. The Order of the Phoenix was currently looking into possible locations. As of yet they had not found a location they – and Hermione – were satisfied with.

"There's something we need to talk about," he said, growing serious. "I've avoided saying anything the last few times you were here, but now that I have a more accurate time frame of when I'm getting out of here, now is probably as good a time as any."

"What's going on?"

"Why don't we sit down?" He said, pointing to the hospital bed.

Hermione sat down beside her father, feeling more anxious then ever. Whatever he wanted to talk to her about it wasn't going to be good if he thought she needed to be sitting down for it.

"I know we haven't talked much about where I'm going to live now," he began.

"Dad, you don't have to worry about that. There's people looking after that."

"The same people who looked after it last time?" He said harshly.

"They thought you would be safe there. They didn't know Voldemort would actually attack an all wizarding community this early on. " she said after a moment, and she wasn't even sure why she was defending the Order now that her trust in them had cost her her mother.

"It doesn't matter," he said, rubbing his face wearily, as Hermione had come to notice was normal whenever she mentioned anything to do with the wizarding world. "I've already made up my mind."

"About what?"

He held her gaze for a moment before saying. "I'm leaving England – and so are you."

She sat there staring at him for a full minute, not moving or saying anything, positive that she had heard him wrong. He couldn't be serious. Her life was here. Everyone she cared about was here. Hogwarts was here – Ron was here.

"It's not safe for you here. Whatever this thing is that's happening in the magic world I don't want you caught up in it."

"Dad, it's too late for that. I'm already involved in what's happening. I can't just pack up and leave everyone behind to deal with this."

"That's exactly why you need to get as far away from here as possible. I don't want to see what happened to your mother happen to you."

"I know how to take care of myself," she argued, blinking back tears – but they were tears of anger. "I can't abandon Ron or Harry. They need me."

"Those boys are going to get you killed," he said sharply. "Last year when your mother and I were considering pulling you out of that school, we talked with Dumbledore and learned quite a bit about what the three of you have gotten yourselves into over the years. But your mother and I were willing to let it go because Dumbledore promised that he would be able to protect you and because you were at the top of your class. I was foolish enough to believe that he would be able to protect you all the time, but I know better now. Hermione, we're leaving here. You may be angry at me for awhile but you'll thank me when you're older and alive."

Hermione couldn't sit still any longer. She stood in front of him, desperate to make him understand. "I don't belong in your world anymore, dad, don't you see that? You have no idea what I've learned – what I'm capable of. The wizarding world is my home now."

"Hermione, this isn't up for discussion. I've made up my mind," he said sternly. "You can spend the holidays with the Weasley's and go back to that school of yours until I get our living arrangements in order, but that's it."

If Hermione had thought it would have made even a bit of difference, she would have argued further. Unless she found a way to change her dad's mind, she was going to be forced to leave behind the life she had made for herself over the last six years, and go back to a world she no longer had any interest in being a part of.