A/N: Here's chapter 11 - brace yourselves, it's a doozy. Enjoy! :)
Though I've made the trek from Kensington to headquarters countless times by now, this trip is the most nerve wracking by far. I can't exactly stop and make sure that Harry is still nearby, and it looks like a mix of rain and snow fell sometime during the night, because there are puddles and icy patches everywhere. Thankfully, there's not enough snow to have to worry about footprints, but I still keep expecting one of us to fall and give us both away. I let out a breath I hadn't even known I'd been holding when we finally make it to headquarters.
"I have to pull you through the wards," I whisper, reaching back for Harry's hand. He obliges, and I grasp it quickly before unlocking the front door and stepping inside.
"Hermione, is that you?" someone calls. I think it's Bill; sure enough, the eldest Weasley brother steps around the corner into view.
"Hey, Bill," I say as I remove my coat. "Did you get my message?"
"We did," Bill replies. "What's going on? Is everything alright?"
"More than alright," I reassure him, unable to suppress my grin. "I have some good news."
"Good news, eh? Come on into the kitchen, then – we'll meet there like usual."
The kitchen is packed, and a quick sweep of the room shows that most of the London group is already here. A few people are still missing, though, and I insist on waiting until everyone is present. A few of the more impatient folks protest, but I just shake my head and take up a position in the corner, Harry just behind me. We need this morale boost, badly – everyone does.
At long last, the stragglers arrive. Ron, who's been shooting me curious looks ever since I got back, finally says, "Out with it, Hermione – what's this good news?" The rest of the room's occupants look at me expectantly, and I can't resist another grin.
"I learned something last night that will change the tide of this war," I state. At this declaration, several people start talking all at once, the chatter escalating in volume until McGonagall silences everyone with a gunshot blast from her wand and one of her infamous stern looks.
"Let Miss Granger speak," she insists. I give my former Head of House a nod of thanks and take a deep breath, deciding to just rip the plaster right off, as it were.
"Take off the cloak, Harry."
Shocked gasps echo through the room and several people go white at my words, poor Flitwick fainting dead away when Harry steps into view. The only one who doesn't look fazed in the slightest is Luna, who smiles serenely and nods, as if she's somehow known all along that Harry would come back one day – and given Luna's ability to pick up on things that most other people miss, I wouldn't be surprised if she had.
"Um…hey, everyone," he says with a sheepish wave. At his words, Ginny jumps to her feet, marching forward until the two of them are practically nose to nose. I have to suppress a laugh seeing them side-by-side – with the haircut and the dark dye, Ginny looks remarkably like a shorter version of Harry.
"Hey?" she repeats, staring Harry down. "You've been dead for three years and all you can say is 'hey'?" As she speaks, her voice grows steadily louder until she practically shouts the last word.
"Ginny, let him explain," I begin, but Harry just shakes his head.
"It's ok, Hermione," he says quietly. He returns his gaze to Ginny, one hand reaching up to touch her chopped, dark brown locks.
"It's a long story, but I promise I'm real," he whispers. Just as he proved it to me several hours ago, he draws his wand and casts his Patronus, the glittering stag erupting from the wand tip to more gasps from the onlookers. Ginny stares at him for a long moment – she looks like she can't decide whether to kiss him or haul off and hit him. In the end, she does neither, instead collapsing into Harry's arms as she sobs uncontrollably.
"Mr. Potter, but how?" McGonagall asks in little more than a whisper. She and the rest of the room's occupants still look stunned – not that I can blame them; at least I've had some time to get used to it.
"It's a long story," Harry repeats as he sinks into the nearest chair, pulling Ginny with him. The youngest Weasley curls up against him, her eyes still glassy with tears, but she looks up at him expectantly as he prepares to speak. The members of GHRS listen intently as Harry relates his tale for them, gasping and exclaiming in all the right places. He even tells them of his run-in with Draco, although as we decided earlier, he leaves out any mention of the blond's name, making it seem like Draco is just another anonymous Death Eater.
"A Death Eater, on our side?" Ron scoffs. I roll my eyes – of course Ron would object first.
"Ron, that Death Eater is the reason I'm alive," Harry says bluntly. "He's the reason I'm alive, and he's the key to winning this war. It's because of him we know that the next attack is coming, and it's because of him that we know there's another Horcrux." More chatter erupts at this announcement. I hadn't even told Harry that I'd shared information about the Horcruxes with the others, but Harry and I are obviously on the same wavelength when it comes to Dumbledore and his secrets.
"Does our informant know what this new Horcrux is?" pipes up Flitwick, who was clearly revived at some point and is now all ears.
"Unfortunately, no," Harry says with a shake of his head. "He doesn't know what it is, but he's about as sure as he can be without direct confirmation from Voldy himself that it's here in London, and he thinks he knows where it is – the Ministry of Magic."
"An excellent hiding place," Flitwick agrees. "After all, there's one department in particular where you could hide just about anything in plain sight, because everything else there is so unusual that one more unusual object would easily go unnoticed." As soon as he says it, I flinch – I know exactly which department the diminutive Charms master means. It's perfect, and so, so cruel. How could any of us stand to go back, after everything that happened the last time we were there?
"The Department of Mysteries," I say. The scar on my chest aches at the mere thought, and I squeeze Harry's shoulder in comfort.
"It makes sense," Bill acquiesces. "Even the Unspeakables themselves don't know the full extent of what goes on there."
"But how are we going to get in?" Ron asks, sounding frustrated. "The Ministry is heavily monitored."
"We're not going to be able to do it until the very end, because we're going to have to use my contact to do it," Harry replies. When several people look at him questioningly, he adds, "Like Ron said, the Ministry is heavily guarded – we can't just waltz right in, especially those of us who don't work there or have another viable excuse. Our best bet is to sneak in with my contact's help, and hopefully find and destroy the object from there. Voldy can tell when a Horcrux has been destroyed, though, so we'll have to be ready – the final battle has to be right afterwards, or it's all for nothing."
"Hermione, do you know who Harry's contact is?" Dean Thomas asks. I nod.
"I do – he's how I found Harry in the first place – which is why I think Harry and I need to be the ones to retrieve the Horcrux. Harry's contact could be a huge help in the final battle, but only if no one knows who he is until we don't have a choice otherwise."
"But why?" Bill asks with a frown. "Wouldn't it be better if we knew who he was, so we don't accidentally take him out in battle or something?" Harry and I look at each other.
"Perhaps," Harry says slowly. I can tell he's carefully considering his answer; Draco was adamant that no one know. "But my contact insists. After all, the Death Eaters are bound to notice if we suddenly refuse to hex one of their number, especially…well, let's just say that my contact is pretty well placed. Hermione and I can shield him from the worst of it, but for the most part, it has to look real. My contact knows the risks." Bill nods in understanding.
"I don't particularly like putting so much trust in an unknown Death Eater, but you have a point, Mr. Potter," McGonagall says. "That you're even alive, which is something we never would have expected before this morning, says rather a lot about this person. Even if they are only in it for their own interests, they are at least somewhat on our side, and we need to take advantage of that." Several others quickly agree, and not for the first time, I'm glad McGonagall is part of our group. She can talk sense into virtually anyone – although I have to wonder how she'd react if she knew that the 'anonymous' informant is really Draco Malfoy. The Slytherin was hardly a saint at school, and he did orchestrate Dumbledore's death, after all.
The meeting continues for another half hour as we plan for the first attack, which Harry informs us will happen just three days from now. Three days isn't a lot of time, but at least we have the advantage of knowing the attack will happen at all instead of being caught by surprise.
According to Draco's intel, the attack is actually a series of attacks – the Death Eaters plan to bomb several prominent Tube stations throughout the city during the evening rush hour. This intel just cements the idea that the final battle is closer than ever – the Death Eaters have been using the Tube to move people and provisions around London ever since they took over the city, so if Voldemort doesn't care about that anymore, it's a good bet that he thinks the end is near.
Even though rush hour isn't nearly so crowded as it would be during normal times, the casualties are still likely going to be horrific, and we spend the entirety of the next three days doing all we can to avoid that. We can't exactly disable the trains – the Death Eaters will know we've found out about the attack and either postpone it or just bomb somewhere else instead – so we strategize. The Surrey group, who hadn't yet joined us when the Death Eaters attacked the school near St. Paul's, is raring to go, so we have enough people to split into comfortably sized groups for every station. We know that Draco is going to be leading the group of attackers at Westminster, and so just like Harry said, either he or I need to be there as well to both minimize the damage and make sure Draco isn't badly hurt. Inner circle or not, he'll be left out of future attacks if he's injured, and we can't afford to lose our inside link. It makes the most sense for me to take on that role this time around – Harry returned to Kensington to have his Glamour reapplied shortly after our first meeting, and we can't risk Draco accidentally unmasking him in the heat of battle. Therefore, I join the group heading to Westminster, and Harry will go to Piccadilly Circus. It's Lavender, though, who has the riskiest job of all – tired of remaining at headquarters while the rest of us go off to fight, she's insisted on being the liaison between all the groups, Apparating to different points across the city and assisting in any way she can. She's carrying emergency Portkeys in case she needs to transport anyone directly to headquarters, and she'll do her best to help out at the stations themselves as well. We're all incredibly worried about her, but she won't take no for an answer, so we'll just have to hope for the best.
Tensions are high as groups gradually leave headquarters on the afternoon of the attack. A slow but steady freezing rain is falling, the cold precipitation messing with our Warming Charms and turning the sidewalks into deathtraps. Everyone in my group slips and falls several times during our trek to Westminster, leaving us bruised and battered by the time we finally arrive.
"Scout the area," I say in little more than a whisper. The order is twofold – we want to make sure our arrival has gone unnoticed, and we need to see what's around that might be useful. One of the roads near the station is blocked off by construction barriers – with a wave of my wand, I duplicate the barriers and levitate them into place, blocking off the rest of the nearby streets as well. The station itself (and everyone in it) might be a lost cause, but at least we can avoid throwing cars and pedestrians into the mix on top of it.
"Any sign of explosives?" I ask as Angelina Johnson approaches. She frowns and shakes her head.
"Nothing," she says. "The station is clear – I suspect the explosives are on the trains themselves."
"That's what I was afraid of." I sigh heavily and finish off a series of detection and protection spells. "If the explosives are on the trains, we might not have a chance to neutralize them. Spread the word and be ready for anything."
My group retreats to strategic locations within and around the station, waiting with bated breath. Having the explosives on the trains really is the worst-case scenario – trains arrive at the major stations with almost alarming frequency during rush hour, and we have no way of knowing in advance which one is the train…or if there's only one such train in the first place. If they time it right, the Death Eaters could conceivably destroy not only the stations themselves, but the entire Underground. Disillusioned and concealed behind a ticket booth, I watch each successive train as it arrives, waiting and wondering. After more than ten trains have passed through without incident, I start to worry. Did Draco forget an important detail? Did something change? Are we all in the wrong place, on the wrong day, at the wrong time?
Yet another train arrives, but its doors don't open, and I raise my wand, knowing the moment has come. And that's when I identify the missing piece of the puzzle: if the Death Eaters rigged the trains in advance, they don't have to be at the stations at all. We've just walked straight into a trap.
"RUN!" I scream. "GET OUT OF THE STATION, NOW!" I vault over the turnstile and bolt for the exit, hoping that the rest of my team is doing the same.
A colossal explosion rocks the platform, fires erupting throughout the station as engine shrapnel and bits of the unfortunate passengers' bodies fly everywhere. The distinct 'pop' of Apparition sounds amidst the chaos, and I understand – the Death Eaters could detonate the explosives remotely, but they want to make sure no one leaves the station alive. Already, they're sealing off the exits further down the train and picking off anyone who tries to make a run for it. My team and I leap into action, throwing spells left and right and doing everything we can to get the remaining passengers to safety. Angelina blows open the doors to the last train compartment with a well-placed spell.
"Come on, move, move, move!" she encourages, waving the passengers onward. The frightened Muggles hurry to follow her command, ducking and dodging as deadly curses miss them by inches. We knew this attack would be big, but we've greatly underestimated just how big – if Voldemort's got his Death Eaters blatantly cursing Muggles, he clearly doesn't care about the consequences of revealing magic anymore. If he's gone this far, the final confrontation could very well be tomorrow, for all we know.
The fight continues at a furious pace, and I throw curse after curse across the platform. The Death Eaters here don't outnumber us by much, but they have distinct advantages we don't – warm clothes, consistent hearty meals. My own biggest problem is that I can't find Draco anywhere – he made sure to show me Lucius' Death Eater mask before I left Kensington, but I'm too far away and the spell fire is too thick for me to see the details on any of the masks, never mind pick out a single one from the crowd. In all this chaos, I could easily hit him myself and never know. The ground is slick with blood and debris, and I shriek in pain as a stray curse sends me flying backwards into a pile of rubble. Coughing and wincing – I think I've broken a rib or two – I stagger to my feet, hitting a nearby Death Eater with a hex and throwing him across the platform like a ragdoll. The Death Eater crashes headfirst into the burning train and slumps to the ground, motionless.
"SOMEBODY HELP!" I whirl around at the cry and gasp in horror as a powerful hex hits the ceiling, cracks ominously stretching outwards from the point of impact.
"IMPEDIMENTA!" I shout, hoping to at least slow the falling debris if I can't stop it altogether. The trick works, although it takes its toll on my already aching body. I don't know how many tons of rock I'm holding up, but gravity desperately wants to do its thing, and I won't be able to hold the spell for long. Slowly, carefully, I start to lower my wand, the ceiling chunks descending alongside my arm.
My spell gives quite a few people time to get out of the way, but it costs me dearly. Preoccupied as I am, I've lost track of my surroundings, and I scream as unimaginable pain rips through me – it feels like a thousand knives are tearing through my flesh. My spell fails, the ceiling chunks falling the remaining few feet with a tremendous crash, but all I can concentrate on is the pain. I've only felt pain like that once before in my life, when Bellatrix Lestrange hit me with her signature Cruciatus Curse over and over again on the floor of Malfoy Manor's drawing room. It's only when I slip and fall in a puddle of my own blood that I realize this isn't the Cruciatus; I don't know what it is, but I know I'm going to die.
"NO!" someone shouts. Several more bodies fall near mine, but my vision is already blurring, and I can't tell if they're friend or foe, nor do I have any idea who shouted.
Someone scoops me up and presses something into my palm, and pain wracks my body just once more before I black out.
