Chapter Thirteen: Hermione's Secrets

"I don't know if that is such a good idea, Arthur."

"I need to go into the Ministry, Albus," Arthur said. "It's imperative that someone be there to direct..."

"Arthur, it may not be safe," Dumbledore said gently. "We cannot risk..."

"If Mr Weasley feels that his place is at the Ministry this morning," Harry spoke from the doorway. "Then he needs to go."

Dumbledore turned to see Harry standing there, Ginny behind him, her shoulders set.

"Good morning, Harry. I was just saying..."

"I heard, Albus," Harry nodded. "And I understand why you feel that way. But if Mr Weasley is now the interim Minister of Magic, then you need to respect that, and let him do his job."

After a moment, Dumbledore nodded, then turned to Arthur.

"Arthur..."

"Thank you for your concern, Albus, but I know where I'm needed. Harry," he nodded as he strode out past the young couple who moved further into the room. Harry took a cup of tea from the tray that Molly had just brought in moments before and handed a second one to Ginny. They hadn't had time for breakfast, or lunch, yet.

"I'm sorry it took us so long to come down," Harry said to the group assembled in the family lounge off the dining room. "I wanted to check in on my aunt."

"How is Petunia this morning, Harry?" Albus asked.

"As well as can be expected, thank you," Harry replied. "She's awake, but not up to visitors, I believe. Mrs Granger is sitting with her now."

"And you, Harry?" Albus asked, his old eyes taking in the paleness of Harry's face, the darkness in his eyes.

"I'm ready to take care of this problem, once and for all, Albus."

"Unfortunately," Dumbledore looked at him. "I'm not sure how we're going to do that."

"I think it's clear," Harry said firmly. "We find them, and then we use whatever we need to... whatever we can... to destroy them once and for all. Have you spoken to your... friend?"

"Yes," Albus nodded, a shadow in his eyes. "He is... hesitant."

"Hesitant?"

"Harry, you have to understand..."

"What I understand is that people are dying, and something must be done," Harry said in a clipped voice.

"I've learned something," Hermione interrupted, hesitantly. "But..."

Harry carefully set his mug of tea down on the coffee table, abandoning the swiftly cooling sludge at the bottom of his cup.

"But?" Harry looked at her closely. Hermione was acting very oddly this morning.

"Harry, I wouldn't..." Hermione seemed to struggle against something. Harry straightened. He'd never seen her like this before.

"You're an Unspeakable, aren't you?" Tonks asked from the corner where she sat on the arm of the chair that Remus was currently occupying.

"I..." Hermione swallowed, obviously wanting to answer, but torn.

"I know you're not allowed to speak of it," Tonks said, watching Hermione closely. "But..."

"It's more than not being allowed to," Hermione said, tears gathering in her eyes. "I..."

"You cannot," Dumbledore said softly. All eyes turned to him.

"I... yes," Hermione said on a gasp. The effort of speaking was obviously distressing her. Harry sat forward, concerned about her. She seemed to be... in pain?

"Hermione?" He looked at her, his worry increasing..

"It causes Miss Granger physical pain to speak of anything that might dishonor the vows she has taken to become an Unspeakable," Dumbledore explained, his eyes never leaving the clearly upset witch seated next to Ron.

"You mean..." Ron turned horrified eyes to his girlfriend. His eyes hardened and he spoke firmly. "Right. I want you out of there. Now."

"Ron..." Hermione turned begging eyes up to him.

"What kind of place puts restraints on it's employees like this?" Ron turned to Dumbledore. "What kind of... Look at her!"

"Miss Granger entered into a contract. A legal contract. It is, actually, quite similar to the contract she drew up for the members of the DA club during your time at Hogwarts, although the restrictions are rather more... limiting, and the consequences more painful, I'm sure. I am assuming she knew the ramifications of such an agreement," Dumbledore's eyes still did not stray from her.

"I didn't think..." Hermione's eyes were welling again. "I thought..."

"You thought what?" Ron rounded on her. "That it would be worth it? Hermione, you might know stuff, but what good does it do if you can't tell us? Doesn't that just make it worse? It will be torment for you if you... if you know something... something important... and can't manage to tell anyone!"

"I thought..." Hermione turned to Harry, her eyes full of tears, pleading. "I thought if I could find someone who... if I didn't have a choice to tell things... if they were taken from my mind..."

Harry looked at her, horrified, knowing full well what she meant. "No."

"Harry, you have to!" she cried. "Please!"

"Absolutely not!"

"Harry!"

"Hermione, do you have any idea... any idea at all," Harry hissed. "Of what it is like to have someone forcibly use legilimency on you while you resist? Do you have any idea? It's like being mentally violated. I can't do that to you!"

"Harry, it's the only way that I can get this information to you. You have to!"

"I can't!"

Looking at him for a moment, Hermione sobbed with frustration and then turned to Dumbledore. "You're a skilled Legilimens, Professor. If Harry won't, then you will have to."

Dumbledore looked at Harry. "The violation would be... Miss Granger, you must understand, these are not insignificant wards that have been put on you; on your mind. The act of overcoming them... the violation would be extreme."

"You have to!" Hermione screamed at them, tears streaming down her face. "I can't... don't you understand. I've tried... staring into a mirror... I've tried to speak of these things. They're locked in my mind!"

Harry looked at her, his own eyes burning with the need to shed tears. Hermione... he'd never seen her so desperate.

"You need to, Harry. Please!" she turned back to him, as though she had sensed his thoughts.

Harry swallowed. "I don't know if I can, Hermione. I really don't..."

"Harry!"

"You have to want to be in the other person's mind, Hermione! You have to be..."

"I don't care!" she sobbed. "Please, Harry... you've no idea! You've no idea of what it's like, knowing, but unable to tell anyone, unable to speak! Unable to protect those... just a few words, Harry, but I can't do it! Don't you understand? Just... just a single memory... just..."

Harry glanced at Ron, whose eyes were desperate. He hated seeing Hermione like this.

"Please, Harry. I don't know how much more she can..."

"You don't know, Ron! You don't know what..." Harry's voice was low, angry. They couldn't ask him to do this. Not this. Not to Hermione! None of them had any idea of what it would take, how it would hurt her.

"I trust you, Harry," Hermione drew his attention back to her with her soft voice. "I trust you to do this. If you have to hurt me to do it... it won't be so bad if it's you. Please, I trust you."

Harry glanced at Dumbledore, who looked back at him steadily. "Hermione wishes you to do this, Harry, knowing full well it will be a most unpleasant experience. I must conclude that she feels this information is... desperately important."

Sighing, Harry moved to the ottoman in front of the sofa and looked into Hermione's eyes.

"You're sure?"

"Yes," she nodded, her eyes still full of tears, but almost eager now. Harry knew that that would change... he knew that she couldn't have any idea of what was about to happen. "You have to, Harry. I can't say it, and you have to know. It is imperative that you know!"

A moment later, Harry stared directly into her eyes, concentrated, and then found himself in the mind of Hermione Granger. It was the strangest experience he'd ever had with this skill, bar none. As opposed to the darkness of Snape's memories, and the extremes of emotion he'd encountered in Dumbledore's head, Hermione's mind was as neat and orderly as she was, but there was a core... he could sense a deep, churning core, a place where her emotions were highly strung, passionate. Where Hermione kept her deepest thoughts and desires, only allowing them out when she knew that it was entirely safe.

And that was where he had to go. Harry knew it even as he recognized the swirling mass of emotion and memory for what it was. With a deep breath, he dove further into her mind, feeling her tense as he did, feeling the vibration of a scream, a deep, racking sob and tension... so very much tightly held control. Harry looked here for only a moment before finding what he had gone in after. The moment he saw the memory, he knew it was the one she meant. He gasped, and was vaguely aware on some level of Hermione doing the same.

"Mione?" Ron's voice came from a long way away. Harry could hear another scream as he approached the memory, and he could feel the pain around him, the tightening of her hold, the physical pain she felt as her mind struggled against his. Hermione was suffering, deeply.

Quickly, he took the memory as his own, and exited her mind. She slumped against Ron, her face buried against him, and sobbed.

"Harry?" Ron turned shocked eyes to him as he rocked her. "What...?"

"I'm sorry, Ron. I tried to be gentle, but there were... the memory was well protected."

"But... she'll be okay?" Ron asked.

"She will be fine," Dumbledore spoke quietly. "It is not a pleasant thing, to have your mind violated, Ron. And that is what Hermione has undergone. Willingly or not, her mind will remember the intrusion. It will take her some time to heal from the experience, but she will heal."

Ron glanced down at her, his eyes wide, but he nodded, and turned back to Harry, his arms still holding her close.

"The memory? What is it, Harry? What was she so desperate for you to know?"

Harry turned to Dumbledore, the look on his face clearly frightened.

"Albus..."

"Harry?"

"Something has come through the Veil. And the Ministry knows."

Dumbledore stared at him, speechless, yet obviously progressing toward a towering anger. Harry swallowed.

"There's more."

"More?" Dumbledore's voice sounded hoarse.

"Several departments of the Ministry... not all of them, but several... have..."

"What, Harry?"

"Have been in touch with... well, with some form of Voldemort. They have agreed to... assist him... or be assisted..."

"With what?" Harry had never seen Dumbledore look shocked. He witnessed it now.

"With the destruction of all those who fought against the Dark who were not with the Ministry during the war. Namely, you, the Order, the DA, and the Dirty Dozen. They've... aligned themselves with him, Dumbledore, to dispose of you, of me, and of anyone loyal to us. They're hunting us down, and they intend to regain the power they believe they've lost."

"The fools," Dumbledore hissed. "The desperate, blind fools."

"Ginny, I know."

"Mum, Harry and I..."

"Harry told me," Molly looked across the table at her daughter, both of them cradling mugs of tea in their hands.

"He... told you?"

"That he's proposed, Ginny. That you've accepted him," Molly smiled.

"Oh," Ginny almost sighed with relief. She was absolutely certain that the conversation wouldn't be quite so civil if Harry had confessed to her mother what she'd thought her mother had been telling her he'd confessed to.

"Ginny?" Molly looked at her, rather concerned at her response. "You did accept him?"

"Of course I did, Mum," Ginny laughed without humor. "Would you have expected me to knock him back?"

"Well, you don't seem particularly happy about it," Molly stated.

"It's not that I'm not happy, Mum," Ginny denied, pushing the cold tea away from her. "It's that there has hardly been time to think about it."

"Oh, I know, dear," Molly instantly leaned forward. "But the time will come..."

"I know, Mum."

"Last night..." Molly flushed. "I thought... I rather thought he was too tired..."

"Mum, nothing happened last night," Ginny reassured her mother. "I told you, he needed to sleep, and he wouldn't unless I was there to make sure he laid down."

Molly sighed, almost with relief. "You'll be married in the summer?"

"I..." Ginny glanced away. "We haven't set a date, Mum. Harry hasn't..."

"Oh, love!" Molly laughed. "Harry won't!"

"What?"

"Men think that all they need do is the asking, Ginevra. It won't cross Harry's mind to even suggest a date until you do, love."

"But..."

"Think on it, Ginny," Molly stood. "Harry loves you, but you'll need to guide him on this."

"Yes, Mum," Ginny said distractedly. It wasn't bad enough that her mother appeared to have done a complete about-face on the whole propriety issue, she had to start giving her advice on men, now, as well?

"Harry... a moment?"

Harry turned to see Remus approaching him through the public lounge. He stood at the base of the main staircase. He'd been intending to go up and check on his aunt.

"What is it, Remus?"

"Harry, I think you need to speak to your mother's portrait."

"Why?"

"Your mother was..."

"What, Remus?"

"Harry, you know your father took Auror training, but..." Remus paused again.

Harry looked expectantly at him, beginning to feel slightly annoyed. "Remus?"

"Your mother, Harry... Lily worked for the Department of Mysteries. She was an Unspeakable. Perhaps..."

"Remus, it's too late. Hermione has already gone through..."

"No, I don't mean that," Remus said. "But... But I think Lily might know something about the Veil. I believe she may have worked with it... before."

Harry looked suspiciously at him.

"If she was an Unspeakable, how would you know?"

"I..."

"Remus?"

Remus sighed. "I am one of the original Marauders, Harry, if not the most talented or... inspired... of the group. I was around for many of Sirius and James'... exploits."

"You spied on her?" Harry was dumbfounded.

"I wouldn't say 'spied'," Remus flushed.

"What would you say, Remus?"

"Your father called it... well, we thought we were protecting her at the time. Little did we know..."

"What?"

"Of the four of us, she was probably the one that required the least protection, Harry. Your mother was a very capable and talented witch."

"If she ever found out..."

"Oh, she found out, Harry," Remus said ruefully. "Lily always found out. When she found out about this, she proceeded to turn your father into a giant slug and to divest Sirius of his... most precious possession. It took a bloody age for him to stop whinging about that, actually. Until it grew back, I believe..."

"And you?" Harry was surprised it was so difficult to hold back his mirth, given the gravity of the current situation.

"Me?"

"What did she do to you?"

"Um..." Remus colored further.

"You might as well tell me, because I'll only just go to my dad's painting and ask him."

"No," Remus looked panicked for a moment. "At least not while your mother is there. You really do not want to remind her of that, Harry. Trust me."

"Fine. Talk."

"She... she placed a permanent itching hex on all of my clothing. All of my clothing, Harry."

Harry smiled.

"It's not funny," Remus grumbled. "I had even less money then than I have now. I couldn't afford to buy a new pair of underwear, much less a complete wardrobe. I had to live with it for a bloody month until Sirius found a counter-charm."

Harry snickered. "Didn't cross her again, though, did you?"

"I didn't dare," Remus snorted. "It took Sirius and your father rather longer to learn that lesson, Harry. The one lesson you have yet to learn, as well. Remember, Harry, a crossed witch is a terrible thing, but a crossed talented witch..."

Remus shuddered again. Harry couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry.

Hours later, Harry entered the study, closing the door behind him and setting locking and privacy charms on the room. He moved to the sofa in front of the portrait and looked up. His mother looked down on him, a smile on her face. His dad grinned.

"Harry..."

"I need to speak to you. Specifically, you, Mum."

"Harry? What is it?" Sudden concern darkened her eyes.

"Mum, Remus told me something tonight."

"What?"

"He said... he said you might be able to tell me something about the Veil in the Department of Mysteries."

Lily looked at him, her surprise evident. "Why would you want to know about that, Harry?"

"Because I think it might have something to do with Voldemort being back. I think he might be using it somehow. I think he might have returned through it."

"That's impossible, Harry," Lily said with a relieved sigh. "It is impossible for anything to come through from the other side."

"How do you know?"

"Because it's been tested."

Harry tried not to speculate on that for too long. He didn't think he really wanted to know what the tests involved. Or who.

"But maybe it's not that it's impossible, but... those on the other side don't choose to come through. Perhaps things are so good on the others side..."

"Harry," Lily sighed. "They couldn't come through if they wanted to."

"But if you're gone, if your soul is free... if you're with others who have gone before... if..."

"Harry, the Veil that Sirius fell through isn't like that."

"Then what is it?"

"It's a portal," Lily glanced at James, then turned pained eyes back to her son. "A one-way portal, Harry. It's a way there... not a way back."

"Where did it take Sirius?"

"The Veil is a portal to the world of the dead, Harry, but you can't come back through it."

"How do you know?"

"Because I worked there, Harry. Because I was an Unspeakable. Because knowledge was shared with me."

"Mum, something came through it."

"Harry, nothing could have come through that portal."

"But..."

"Harry it's just not possible."

"It must be. Because we know that something has come through..."

Lily gasped. "No, it's not possible."

"Mum, Hermione is an Unspeakable... she... I... well, suffice to say that something has come through from the other side. The Ministry has knowledge of it, and..."

"Harry," Lily glanced at James, before continuing worriedly. "The Veil that Sirius fell through in the Department of Mysteries is not the only one."

"What?"

"There are several others."

"I don't understand."

"There are several of them, Harry, under separate study in the Department of Mysteries. Some are portals in, others are portals out. The one that Sirius fell through... it only goes in, or he wouldn't have gone in at all. They only work one way. There are others that are exits, but they have to be activated. The Ministry keeps them inactive... they know what they'd be opening if they allowed the portals to be activated, Harry. The Ministry wouldn't..."

"Lils?" James' voice came softly, doubtfully.

"They couldn't have, could they, James?" Lily looked up at James, worry apparent in her eyes. "They wouldn't have been that stupid? Would they?"

"Lils..." James shook his head. "You know as well as I do how stupid the Ministry can act someti..."

At that moment, something very, very strange happened. The painting of his parents froze. Harry looked at it closely.

"Mum? Dad?"

The painting remained frozen. Harry moved closer.

"Mum? Mum? What's wrong?"

Still no response. Harry, suddenly realizing that something was terribly wrong, removed the wards on the room and threw open the door, yelling for Dumbledore as he did.

"I don't understand it," Harry stared at the portrait of his parents. They were not asleep, they were merely... still. They'd been that way for hours, since close to three when they had frozen during their conversation with him.

Harry couldn't understand it.

"Harry..."

"What could have done this? Why are they not speaking to me? What's wrong?"

"Harry," Dumbledore sighed, glancing at the portrait, then back to Harry. "One of two things may have happened."

"Two things? Care to share?"

Dumbledore nodded sadly at the tone Harry used. Harry felt contrite for a moment, but then his anger took over once again.

"Harry, there are two reasons why this may have happened. One is that the spell... well,. Perhaps the spell simply wore off."

"Wore off?" Harry hissed. "Wore bloody off? Are you telling me that my mother was substandard with potions?"

"No, of course not."

"So how likely is it that the spell could have worn off? I've seen the portraits in Hogwarts, Albus. I'm absolutely certain it doesn't just wear off!"

Harry knew how unreasonable he was being, how disrespectful, but somehow... somehow he couldn't find it in himself to stop. He'd been given his parents... in a way, anyhow. And now they'd been cruelly snatched away again. He knew he'd feel shame in how he was treating Dumbledore later, but right now, he couldn't bring himself to care enough to stop.

"No, you are correct," Dumbledore nodded. "I have certainly never known it to happen. I am merely suggesting it as a possibility."

"Well, it didn't, so where does that leave us?"

"The only other way that I can think of to have made this could happen, Harry, is if your parents..."

"What?"

"Harry, for this particular spell to work, your parents needed to be... dead."

"Yes?"

"So if, for some reason, they were no longer dead..."

Harry turned shocked eyes to the portrait. "You mean...?"

"I mean, if James and Lily Potter's souls were returned to life, then the spell that animated this portrait would cease to be effective."

"You're telling me," Harry said, his voice low and dangerous. "You're telling me that my parents are no longer dead?"

"It would appear... yes, Harry. I believe that, somehow, their souls have been returned to our reality. Somewhere in our world, James and Lily Potter have returned."

And there I leave you for now. I'm trying to meet a deadline today, so I'll "see" you all tomorrow. Enjoy!

CQ