Chapter 1
Hermione put the stopper in the inkwell and cleaned her quill on her stained over tunic. Her account, penned neatly on thick parchment, lay beside her on the stone ridge. Around her the light breathing of the children lulled her into a sense of security. Wrapping her arms around her to keep the chill of the spring breeze out of her bones, she drew her knees up to her chest.
The over tunic protected sparse clothing in the small colony's possession and also aided in warming them during cold nights. The dim white sapped the colour from people's faces, leaving a grey pallor. Hair grew long to save the few blades they had ,but their magic grew sharper by the day. The fewWizardfolk living in the colony hadtheir wands confiscated at the first banishment , save forthe two, one hidden and the other lost in desolation.
At the cave mouth two stood on guard, sentries against foul creatures lurking in the area. In the main cave Sorscha Willowbrook tended the fire, the smoke of which spiralled out, through a small opening in the roof of the cave. The fire was a source of warmth, a cooking fire and also a form or protection against the creatures of the night. In the various sized openings in the main cave, sectioned off to serve as bedrooms, the rest of the inhabitants slept.
Sorscha ladled hot broth into tin mugs for herself and the other three still awake. The broth, remainder of the day's food was re-heated on an open fire in a great cauldron hanging over leaping flames. The cauldron had been taken from the home of an elderly witch , at the beginning of the segregation, who had passed away peacefully in her sleep on the verynight Hermione sought refuge with her. If time had allowed, the old healer could have done a great service for the colony over the past year and a half.
Hermione shut her eyes as she leant back against the cool, smooth stone. Veins of marble peeked through the granite, rough and untainted, the children loved tracing the white and blacktendrils with their fingers before fallinginto carefree slumber. The heavy tarpaulin over the door way was pushed back as the small blonde haired muggle woman, Sorscha, stepped through. She padded quietly over to Hermione , tapping her lightly on the shoulder.
Hermione blinked, fixing a chocolaty gaze on Sorscha's grey eyes, and smiled. She took the proffered mug of broth and began sipping at it.
" ' You warm enough?" Sorscha asked. She wore a thick red woollen jumper over a baggy grey t-shirt and jeans held up with a cord of rope. Her blonde hairwas drawn back into a greasyplait bound by grubby linen strip, made more pallid by the glow of Hermione'slamp. The young woman, at twenty-six would have been pretty if a deep gouge did not mar her face, blinding her in her left eye. The scar was a stark reminder of how close she came to loosing her life. Hermione nodded, wrapping her hands tighter around the mug.
"Mind if I sit with you for a little while?" Hermione shook her head. Sorscha smiled and sat beside her, resting her head on Hermione's shoulder after a short time. The two had become friends over the past year after finding each had the same passion for knowledge. Sorscha had been training as a College lecturer when she first heard of the attacks by one who named himself as Voldemort. She had been teaching when the attacks became more of a war situation. She had lost her eye to a well aimed strike by a Manticore cub when Hermione met her, lost and alone.
"You know, it's times like these, when I'm with the children, that I miss Ron the most," Hermione said in barely a whisper. Sorscha slipped her arms around Hermione, hugging her close. "In some ways, I'm glad I miscarried," Hermione had lost her child only three months into the pregnancy when she had heard of Ron and Harry's deaths.
"How so?" Sorscha asked, curious.
"If I'd had the childI could not haveescaped." Hermione blew on the broth and swallowed a big gulp. "I would have had one more thing to loose,"
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Hermione awoke shortly after midday. She had gone to her bed when Dervish Spinnifold had relieved her of watch at seven that morning. Joyful squeals reached her ears as she came to the mouth of the cave, her Weasley jumper, the last Mrs. Weasley had ever knitted for her, pulled over her tunic.
The children were currently fighting each other with sticks that served as swords. The two youngest children, Starlight and Alfie, were in the care of Avril Jennings, the oldest member of our colony. Dervish watched with an amused smile as Akshay blocked, parried and thrust his weapon in graceful movements against his younger, less trained opponents, only to be brought to the ground when they all jumped on him.
A number of the colony were out tending the meagre crops, hunting, or watching the colony boundaries for trespassers or fell creatures. Most stayed around the caves tending to their chores. Sorscha still slept, Hermione had been careful not to wake her as they shared a room. Greg Hankin was bent over his well worn maps again, searching for weaknesses, ways in which to get supplies through the wall.
The warning horn sounded from the watch post created in one of the ancient oak trees a short distance from the cave mouth.
"A stranger!" The deep voice of Dennis McCorwin called. "A woman left of the cave!" All eyes turned, children stopped their play. Dervish, Ben Dodds and Jemma Spencer hoisted their sharpened blades from their make shift baldrics and approached the ridge, to better see the new visitor.
The woman was ragged, her hair well past her waist, hung in rats tails down her back and around her face. She constantly turned her gaze back as if she feared pursuit. As she staggered forward she noticed the three guards.
"Halt stranger and state your name and purpose!" Dervish shouted. He was, after all the leader of the group.
"I am seeking someone. Hermione Granger, I must see her!" The desperation rang in her voice, tears welled in her eyes and she dropped, exhausted to her knees.
"Your name! State your name!" Dervish yelled again. He tightened his grip on the blade in his hand and took a step forward.
"Ginny?" Hermione muttered. "Ginny!" She almost screamed as she recognised the glints of red in her lank hair and the once round and bright face of one of her best friends. Rushing down the hill to greet her, ignoring the warnings of Dervish and Jemma she fell to her knees, embracing Ginny. Burying her face in Ginny's lengths of hair, she sobbed. Ginny collapsed into her arms, her will to stay awake lost. Finally, after weeks of wandering, Ginny had finally found her.
Wet hands…What-
Hermione raised one of her hands to her tear blurred eyes to see what the warm moisture could be.
Blood. Ginny's blood.
"Somebody help! She's wounded!" Hermione screeched, suddenly terrified of loosing her.
