CHAPTER FOUR: The Mystery Army

Hermione had spent the last two or three hours surrounded by green-clad soldiers in the middle of a long, black room. She was unbound, though her wand had been taken, and she knew better than to protest. Even if she'd had her wand, there was no way she could stun all twenty or thirty-odd soldiers before one of them shot her. They lined the walls of the room, guns and faces all trained on her (though their faces were hidden behind black face shields).

There was a muffled clunking sound, and Hermione heard a hissing sound from behind her. Turning around, she saw the wall folding down into a ramp. The room now opened into a cave of some kind. A prod to her back by a soldier's gun prompted her to move forward. As she was led towards a hallway, she looked back and saw that she'd been on what looked like a troop transport helicopter. How she'd ended up there from that aerial island boggled her mind, so she waited for what she assumed would be either an interrogation or torture session. She wanted to cry out in terror, but knew it would do her no good. She would face the situation bravely, and hopefully she'd make it out alive.

After being led through a number of winding hallways, she was thrust into a very dark room, and the door was closed behind her without any of the soldiers accompanying her. A dim light shone from the ceiling upon a simple wooden chair. "Sit down," came a hoarse, male voice from somewhere in the room. Hermione didn't know if she was too frightened to protest, or if some outside force was acting upon her, but she sat down in the chair without hesitation.

"I hope you're proud of yourself, Ms. Weasley, or would you prefer I call you Hermione?" came the voice, full of resentment and scorn. "Months of effort wasted because you just had to trigger that trap before it was meant to be used! Do you have any idea how long it took to place those traps on that island, in the hopes of ensnaring the one running the place! Our agent managed to escape just in time, and he tells me that the Fists of Wrath are now combing the island, looking for the rest of them!"

Hermione simply sat and listened, eyes wide. She had no idea who this man was, but it seemed he was an enemy of this terrorist group. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, I suppose. "Who are you? How did I get here? What-"

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! I'm too hungry to carry on with you asking all these questions!"

Hermione had to stifle a smirk, that even this … whoever he was, could be subject to the needs of the body as much as anyone. But then came another voice, that of an old woman.

"Oh, do be quiet and go satiate yourself! The poor girl doesn't need your ramblings from your constant need for food!" There was some inarticulate grumbling, followed by what sounded like a shuffling of feet away from Hermione. There was a sound of metal creaking, and then clamping. "There now. I'm sorry, but he can get rather nasty when he's hungry. It's a wonder he stays so slim."

Something about this woman's manner soothed Hermione's tense muscles, though her mind told her to stay sharp. "Thank you, I think." Hermione didn't know what else to say.

"It's all right, Ms. Weasley. Or would you prefer Hermione? Please, do tell me."

"Hermione. Hermione's fine, please." Something told her that she shouldn't get on first-name basis with whoever this was, but it was too late now.

"Very well, Hermione," came the soft voice of the old woman (whom Hermione still could not see). "We are part of a group dedicated to finding and eradicating the Sins that have been unleashed upon the Earth. More people know about them than you would think," she said at the look of shock on Hermione's face.

"I see," was all Hermione could think of to say for a time. "Why are you using Muggle soldiers? They wouldn't be that effective against these things, would they?"

A soft chuckle greeted these words. "You'd be surprised, Hermione. These are indeed Muggle soldiers. The Great Healer taught us that Muggles are not to be feared, scorned, or kept in the dark, as was the case only a few years ago."

Hermione's face instantly became a scowl. "So this is the covert military branch of Healing Hands, is it?"

Another chuckle. "No, no. Far from it. We are not affiliated with Healing Hands. In fact, we try to keep as much distance between us and them as possible. Their magic is powerful, very powerful. Something that we would not be smart to oppose. Not yet, at least."

Hermione's mind was racing. Could these people, whoever they were, possibly help them get rid of the Great Healer's influence? Hermione once more cautioned herself not to take everything at face value. "Why do you need me, then? Why am I here?"

"Well, now! That is an interesting story! You see, we had one of our agents infiltrate the Fists of Wrath some time ago, and this agent (who just barely made it away) set up traps designed to capture Wrath himself once we set our plans into action. Your arrival accidentally triggered one such trap prematurely, and thus you were brought here. However, you may be able to help us, Hermione! You can help us identify this base where the Fists of Wrath operate out of, and hopefully aid in taking it over and destroying Wrath." There was a long sigh. "Our agent also reports that your husband and friends were taken captive by Wrath's forces."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I saw other soldiers closing in on them just before I was taken here." She sighed. "I can't believe that so many Muggles are now ensnared in this horrid chain of events!"

"Not to worry, Hermione. These soldiers are the best of the best! They have been given special training, and their weapons have been equipped with wand materials to enable them to use limited combat magic. Unfortunately, the enemy will also have made such assurances, I have been assured." The old woman sighed. "Oh, how I wish I could have as brilliant a fortress as those Fists of Wrath! Such an elegant aerial island, don't you think?"

Hermione didn't know what to say to this, but she nodded all the same."

"Yes, we tend to want what we cannot have. But that makes it all the more tempting!" The woman's voice was starting to turn slightly manic. "But, Hermione, you must be exhausted after this ordeal. I'll have someone take you to a room to rest. It may not be the most comfortable, but it should do. If you need anything, just tap your wand to the mirror in your quarters, and either I or my ravenous associate will be with you shortly."

The door opened behind her, and two green-clad soldiers flanked Hermione's chair. "This way, ma'am." Hermione didn't want to trust these people all of a sudden, but couldn't think of any way out of the situation. "Now!" barked the soldier. Hermione rose and turned around, not wanting to spend any more time with the old woman whom Hermione most definitely did not trust. Not entirely, at least.

After being led through numerous, dimly-lit, winding halls, a door slid open and Hermione was treated to a small room that seemed to be meant for Muggle soldiers. Hermione took one step inside, and the door slid rapidly shut behind her. There was a bed, sink, and toilet, with a small wall-mirror just above the sink. Underneath the sink, there were a few simple towels. As Hermione sat down on her hard, metal bed, she couldn't help but ask aloud, "So am I a guest, or a prisoner?"