Chapter One

Hermione slowly sheathed her gun into her belt, keeping an eye on one of the Death Eaters she had managed to track down. His name was Daniel Murphy. She recognized him as one of Professor Vector's apprentices before she had died in the battle the previous year. She looked at him in disgust, one of Hogwarts brightest Arithmancer; had thrown away his possibly bright future for a life of grovelling in front of Voldemort. It was evident that Murphy recognized her, his eyes wide with fear and hatred.

Daniel Murphy was a Pureblood. He thought that Muggles were beneath him. Obviously, his arrogance had blinded him from his opponent using any Muggle methods to hunt him down. It was a safe bet that the many others were exactly like him. It was ironic that their prejudice had become their own undoing. Hermione knew that and exploited that weakness to her full advantage. She taught herself self-defence and learnt how to use Muggle weapons. She didn't underestimate the Death Eaters in the inner circle though; they were undeniably smarter and more cunning than the newer recruits below them.

She tightened her ponytail carefully, her eyes still fixed on the man who was on a full body-bind on the ground in front of her. She strolled over the darkened alley and grabbed Murphy's frozen arm - apparating to an empty lot. There was nobody around. The run-down buildings around it looked as if they were ready to collapse any second.

Hermione swiftly blindfolded her prisoner - just in case he might escape and inform his accomplice about his sightings. Slowly she pointed her wand towards the empty lot and deactivated the runes that could only be seen by her and select others.

It was a very complex but necessary security precaution.

She stepped back and waited.

Two silvery lines from either side of the lot rose up and spun itself into a rather intricate looking pattern before joining. The silver lines turned into what looked like a portal. Levitating a very indignant looking Death Eater, she slowly walked into the dimly lit room.

"Password." a seemingly disembodied voice said.

"Voldemort is a bloody idiotic git." Hermione replied; a slight smile playing with the corners of her mouth. "I should have known that you're here. No one else asks for the password, the runes are secure enough. You should try to be less conspicuous."

"Prisoner first, talking later."

The circular room seemed to be something out of a fan of science fiction's imagination. It was made entirely of metal and had strange runes carved in it. It was used as a means of alerting other members of the Order when any of the prisoners escaped. The members of the Order wore a simple band around their fingers as a way of communication. It was inspired by the coins Hermione made for the D.A. many years ago. A steel desk stood at the middle of the room with stacks papers littered on it along with a few comfortable looking chairs.

The most intriguing of all was a large rectangular space that someone carved into the wall. A single look would have caused many to think that it was just a rather unnecessary design. In truth, it was a cell. Once a certain button is pressed, it would rotate until the warden finds an empty cell or the prisoner he was looking for. There were fifty cells in all. It was designed, surprisingly; by Dean Thomas. His talent for drawing had also extended towards architecture. It had taken many weeks before everything was complete. When it was, the result was nothing short of spectacular.

She rolled her eyes and levitated the prisoner to the empty cell before depositing the rather irritated looking prisoner on the ground rather unceremoniously. Bars slid in from the top of the cell until it partly concealed its exit. Only then did Hermione release the binding spell.

Murphy instantly jumped to his feet, fists banging at the magical bars in front of him.

"The Dark Lord will find you and then he will extract his revenge." Murphy growled menacingly, grinding his teeth. "And I will stay loyal and savour the moment he tears you into pieces. Bit - by - bit." The last three words he had emphasized loudly, as if he was relishing what would happen to Hermione. As soon as the words left his mouth, he began to drool and howl as he clawed at the bars and the walls around him – his rolling eyes holding a barest trace of sanity.

Hermione quickly pressed the button that would rotate the cell – she did not want to face the raw hatred directed to her that radiated from Murphy's very being for the rest of the evening.

"What are you doing here?" she asked immediately, her mischievous bossiness showing between the seams of her cold facade.

"I'm guarding, obviously," A figure appeared, taking off her disillusionment spell.

"Oh?" Hermione said, raising an eyebrow. "Where are the rest, then? There are always three or four people on guard duty."

"I asked them to take a lunch break," the woman said, tossing her brilliant red hair over her shoulder. "It seemed like they needed it.

"It's nine o' clock at night," countered Hermione.

"That's beside the point," replied the woman with a sly smile.

"Oh, fuck off," Hermione laughed as they both embraced.

"It's been days, Hermione," the red head said fondly. "Damn are you skinny."

"Well, I can't exactly eat much while chasing Death Eaters half way across the country." Hermione snapped playfully. "You don't actually look like Christina Warbeck yourself, Ginny."

"You know I worry about you," Ginny said, shaking her head – taking a seat on one of the chairs scattered. "It's been rough, these days. Someone in the Resistance broke his wand. Trying to get him something he could actually use was completely hell. At least, that's what Neville told me."

"What about the sickbay?" Hermione asked, genuinely curious. After all, it was once her ambition to become a Healer, many years ago. Her hands itched for a cup of tea to hold on to, as she was accustomed to many months ago.

Ginny winced. "It's been totally crappy." she confessed, massaging her forehead. Her eyes were filled with a weariness that an eighteen year old shouldn't have. "Many of those who found out they lost their magical ability or a limb try to kill themselves rather than try to recuperate. We are getting dangerous low on supplies. Sna- He has been helping us with our stock, but it is simply not enough. Voldemort - The bloody bastard has been suspecting something... what about you? How's everything?"

"Well, I've just caught Daniel Murphy." Hermione said with a sad smile.

"That's Daniel Murphy?" Ginny asked, clearly shocked. "I can't believe it – he used to be quite a hunk. He even seemed sane. Although…"

"Yes?"

"Is he one of the more minor members?" Ginny asked. "Because he can't be in the higher ranks, his family had once tried to strip him of his magical powers when they found out his was dabbling in Dark Arts. They didn't completely succeed – he was reduced to just a little more than a Squib. But then, you wouldn't waste space and resources on imprisoning him here, would you?"

"Murphy was just one step from the inner circle, Ginny." Hermione said regretfully. "He must have used the Dark Arts to retain his magical abilities. Even if he didn't, I'm sure his intellect would have substituted for magic. After all, look at Crabbe and Goyle both of whom are in the Inner Circle."

"There's a cure for the loss of magical abilities?" Ginny asked, excited. "How does it work? There's about half a dozen people at the sickbay that could—"

"You need to kill someone to suck out their powers. It's something really fucked up and reeks of Dark Arts, Gin."

Ginny sobered.

"I kind of expected that already," she said gravely. "I just thought that maybe — Forget about it… Is there anything else you've discovered?"

"Well, I think I'm having a lead on Voldemort's whereabouts. It's just a hunch, but it's something – at the very least." Hermione said, biting her lip nervously. "I'll tell you about it later, when we get back to Headquarters. It would be easier for me to tell you and Harry at once instead of repeating it twice. Anyway, I heard that our former chemistry teacher has been demoted – something to do with him not being useful after he killed the old man."

It took Ginny a few moments before recognition dawned upon her.

'Our former chemistry teacher' was a code name for Severus Snape. It was crucial because there was still a possibility that the prisoners might have heard them talking – even despite the intense security; and report back to Voldemort about Professor Snape's disloyalty. Snape had come back discreetly two weeks after Dumbledore's death and had submitted to a very thorough questioning. Hermione did not exactly know what they had done; but the Order was somehow satisfied with his trustworthiness and Snape became a spy for the Order once again – their only source of reliable outside information. 'The old man' she referred to was Dumbledore, the former Headmaster of Hogwarts.

Or whatever that was left of the crumbling school. Hermione sighed as memories filled her mind.

It all happened a year ago. Voldemort and his band of Death Eaters had attacked Hogwarts a week before the seventh year Graduation Day. The wards in the school had been lowered to let the students' parents in. The date of the attack that Voldemort had given the Death Eaters was false. He suspected that there was a spy in his midst – even if there wasn't, there was still a chance that someone from his inner circle was interrogated with Veritaserum. There was only a precious few who were truly immune to them – at least, that was Hermione's theory.

Voldemort gathered Giants, Dementors and Werewolves; along with whomever he managed to persuade to turn to his side. The situation could be uniquely described with only two words; Pure chaos. One of the Death Eaters had managed a curse at the gigantic swinging chandelier on top of the Great Hall – killing Hagrid and a handful of first and second year Hufflepuffs as its' stakes were driven through their bodies. There were bloodcurdling screams and blood everywhere. Everyone was running around; terrified - trying to evade the jets of light that streaked pass them. More often than not, both students and teachers were hit by stray spells. Teachers gave up trying to ask the students to go to their common rooms as it was almost laughable at how ridiculous it was, given that situation.

The chill of fear had surrounded them; with Death Eaters swooping in and Kissing anyone without a mask. Werewolves slashed at the people while the Giants crushed Hogwarts' very foundation. It didn't take long before the once magical ceiling had fallen, burying many alive.

Hermione had manoeuvred herself from the panicked crowd, trying to locate both Harry and Ron. Ron was easily found next to Ginny. Both of them were trying to stun as many people as possible. They had also stunned some of the younger, terrified students. That way, they would be safe from the curses that the Death Eaters had flung their way – as they would be presumed dead. It would be easy to lift the spell should they ever end the battle.

There was a loud siren before the Aurors rushed in into the crumpled heap that was Hogwarts, managing to petrify some of the Death Eaters and ward off the other magical beings. It was then when Harry was locked with Voldemort in a magical barrier. The barrier was so powerful, so filled with pure magic that no one could get in or remotely close to it. The Death Eaters took the opportunity to attack the Aurors, as most of them were mostly occupied with driving away the magical creatures and penetrating the magical barrier that their defences were lowered.

Voldemort, with his lipless mouth and fiery red eyes – whose name inspired fear in every household; threw a Cruciatus at Harry. Harry barely ducked, the curse hitting his leg. The screams of agony he had been heartbreaking to hear. It tore at Hermione's very soul leaving her a terrible ache inside her. Both she and Ron – and Ginny, once the sweet, innocent little Ginny who had put her elbow into the butter dish for the very same person; ran to the barrier, attacking it with every spell they knew. They hit the barrier with their hands, their feet, anything they could - ignoring the jolts of pain that shot through their body.

Their screams of protest barely registered in Voldemort as he laughed at Harry's torture. Harry's eyes were rolling, blood tricking down his eyes and mouth. Cuts and bruises covered his skin from writhing in the pain, trying to make the pain stop.

"Beg, and I will release you Potter. Beg like your good for nothing Mudblood mother did." He had said.

"Don't talk about my parents!" Harry shouted, the curse broken, glaring so intensely at Voldemort that Hermione could feel his anger radiating even from the other side of the barrier.

He stood up just as if a particularly nasty Tripping Jinx had hit him. Voldemort had blinked in surprise – in result, the barrier faltered. A pulse of magic rippled through the air, and somehow it had made Death Eaters clutch at their marks in agony. The Aurors took the opportunity and began to stun them – but before their spells had reached the Death Eaters; they disapparated, seemingly realising their vulnerability. All the Aurors could do was hope that the Death Eaters splinched themselves through their pain. Voldemort must have realised then that even he could not stand his own against thirty Aurors, the remaining students and faculty - and apparated away quickly.

It was the last battle that Ron survived.

Hermione was struck out of her reverie by a very strategically placed slap on her face. She winced at the blow.

"Ginny!"

"Well, I did try calling your name for quite a number of times," said Ginny sheepishly. "You almost seemed as if you were in a trance. What were you thinking about?"

"I was remembering what happened to Hogwarts," said Hermione with a sigh. "We could have won, then - we almost did."

"I guess so," Ginny replied sombrely. They kept quiet for a few moments, each mulling over their own thoughts.

"Er," Hermione began nervously. "So, how's everything between you and Harry? He doesn't really tell me anything."

"I - I'm not really sure," said Ginny carefully. She glanced at her muggle watch before standing up. "Well, I've got to go, patients waiting for me and all. Besides, Poppy frets. (She said that as if she was parting with a potentially disastrous secret) See you soon, Hermione."

"Yes – sure," Hermione stumbled. "See you."

They lapsed into silence as Ginny began to deactivate the runes for her exit.

The only thought that registered in her mind at that very moment was that it was late. The entire place was filled with inky darkness – so dense that it seemed someone had gone amok with a Put-Outer and messed with one of Fred and George's old creations. As her eyes grew accustomed to the dark, she studied her surroundings slowly and checked her disillusionment spell. Her face looked chubbier, her skin pale and her hair blonde. She would have made more modifications; if not for the amount of power required to cast a disillusionment spell. She would not be able to maintain her appearance for very long should she make too many alterations.

She cast a Deletrious on herself, effectively cutting off her magical signature from anyone that might had been tracing her. Hermione closed her eyes, concentrated on her three D's and apparated, stumbling slightly at the weight of the difficult spells she had placed on herself.

Her destination was an old flat. It looked rather pleasant from the outside. However, Hermione knew from experience that there might have been an animal breeding centre considering the amount of rats that scurried across the floor. Her complaints to the muggle property owner were fruitless as he repeatedly insisted that his flat was as clean as his mother's kitchen - at least, before her death. Or so Hermione thought. She was reduced to warding the entire flat against pests, wondering how the other muggles in the flat survived such a state.

She entered the flat, greeted the doddering security guard with a nod and proceeded to climb the stairs, leading to her room. She bent to evade the flickering lamps that hung low from the ceiling. Her heart was pounding loudly as she climbed the stairs. The circular stairs were a long way from the ground and it was already creaking at her weight. Hermione, never being one comfortable with heights - was predictably afraid.

She reached her accommodation and unlocked the door with a heavy key before entering gingerly as the runes in the room recognised her magical signature. The heavy scent of alcohol filled her nostrils, making her slightly dizzy.

"Damn it, Potter," Hermione cursed.

In the midst of the empty bottles of Firewhisky littered around the room lay Harry Potter, unconscious, leaning against the battered maroon couch. A sickly smile plastered his face.

"How many times must I tell you," Hermione grumbled to herself, knowing that he wouldn't be able to comprehend anything she was saying. "- not to drink alcohol. You already know you have an unnaturally low alcohol tolerance. You might even get alcohol poisoning from all this! Don't you know what you're doing to yourself?"

She flicked her wrist and measured Harry's temperature gingerly. She would not be able to perform a sobering charm on him if he was sick nor could she give him a remedy because he was drunk. The only solution was treating him the muggle way until he got better.

With a pail filled with cold water and a cloth she began to nurse him. He began to stir and looked at Hermione with a goofy smile.

"You k-know," slurred Harry, as the effect of alcohol hit him.

Hermione nodded patiently, not really paying attention to Harry's drunken ramblings as she felt the damp rag absorb the heat from Harry's forehead.

"S-sometimes... I wish...

"I wish it was yo-you who d-died instead of R-Ron."

The cloth fell onto the floor. The bucket of cold water toppled over, breaking into small fragments - the result of accidental magic; as the water splashed onto the floor.

Her breath came in small gasps, as if she was suffocating. In a way, she was. She had thought she had been a good friend to Harry, someone he could rely on through the difficult time he was going through. There was no way she could help him now. She was no Ron Weasley. She tried to be, but no one could replace the vibrant redhead. Despite all that, she thought she had also been Harry's best friend.

Apparently, she was wrong.

Her voice cracking, she managed to reply to the dozing man next to her.

"I know," she said. "I do too."

She wept silently, with only the soft flickering fire as her company.