Chapter Three – Not Again

Half an hour later, the entire Order was there.

Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Lupin, Harry, Ginny, Fred, George, Molly, Arthur, Hagrid, Tonks, Mad-eye, Neville and still more.

Must be time to strike back, Hermione thought. Usually the only time everyone in the Order was calledwhen someone was dead, or it was time to plan an attack.

"Good morning everyone." Dumbledore looked around the room at the faces. Some had remained they way they always had been. Somehow those lucky few had retained the ability to feel. While others had changed so drastically they were hardly recognizable anymore. Aching hearts forced to lay down and play dead. Faces hiding behind indifferent masks. They were the ones who deserved their grief. The ones so changed by the war that most would never recover.

"I recently received word from an informant that there is a scheduled attack on Diagon Alley. Soon. We must be there to stop them."

Finally, was the word on everyone's mind.

"Stupefy!" Hermione heard the curse coming at her and deftly dodged the stream of red light, firing back at her attacker.

"Gregory Goyle." Hermione said, wand poised for attack, a sick grin on her face.

"Mudblood." Goyle grinned back at her with just as much malice on his face.

"Why you little son of..."

"Tarantallegra!" Goyle shouted at her before she could finish her sentence.

"Protego!" The spell bounced back towards Goyle but dissipated before it had a chance to reach him. "Diffindo!" Hermione shouted the words and watched as a burst of red and orange shot from her wand hitting Goyle dead center in the chest. She smiled, as she watched with sick satisfaction as Goyle was torn apart, screaming. Then she quickly moved on to another target, searching.

"Patrificus totalus!" She quickly put Crabbe into a full body bind and began running through the crowds of fighting witches, wizards and deatheaters. He had to be there. Surely he wouldn't miss this?

She continued running about desperately searching, firing off curses, hexes, and jinxes. She had to find him. She knew he was here somewhere. She could feel his presence like a heavy weight on her chest.

Soon the pop! of apparating deatheaters could be heard as well as the sounds of cheers coming up from the people of Diagon Alley.

This battle was over and the light side had won. But Hermione sneered at the cheers. She knew that this wasn't even the beginning.

It wasn't even close.

The scent of death was heavy in Diagon Alley, screams and cries of grief mixing with those of relief

as witches and wizards found others either dead or alive. Hermione had to get away from it. She'd done all she could anyway.

She had helped all the medi-witches that were running about like chicken with their heads cut off. Using some spells of her own creation such as obturo flumen, which worked like a tourniquet, quickly cutting off blood flow, while others she's learned in an advanced book full of healing spells such as obtorpesco, which numbed pain almost instantly.

After helping heal everyone that could be saved, Hermione began dragging the dead bodies up into an orderly line so they could be identified and picked up by the families. Many such as, Lisa Turpin, Kevin Whitby, Geoffrey Hooper, she knew would be ending up in Guardian Cemetery. Hermione was sure that Dumbledore had not known how many people would end up in the cemetery when he created it. They were running out of space as it was.

But now it was just too much for her handle. She walked quietly out of the town of Diagon Alley and towards the woods. She noticed, with some delectation, how all of the dead deatheaters were left where they fell. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a familiar face and turned back, looking at the body.

She grinned.

Bellatrix Lestrange. Blood pooled around her horribly disfigured body and Hermione noted that she was missing an arm. That, however, wasn't what made her smile. No, it was the fact that her body was covered in a name. Carved deep into the flesh, and probably deep into the muscle as well was the name Longbottom.

Neville had finally gotten his revenge.

She would definitely have to congratulate him. Curious though, she hadn't seen him with the injured or the healers. She shrugged it off. Thinking hadn't really been looking for him.

Hermione walked further towards the woods following a path she took often when she needed time to clear her head. It lead straight through to the cemetery. Which suited her just fine as that was where she spent most of her time anyway.

She caught a flash of red out of the corner of her eye and turned back. Black spots danced in front of her eyes and her breakfast threatened to make a return visit to her mouth as one last thought went screaming through her mind before she lost all feeling to the darkness.

Dear God. Not again.

----------------------------------------------------

flumen a stream of blood, tears, etc..

obturo to stop up.

obtorpesco to become stiff , numb, insensible.