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AN: Sorry for any mistakes. I read through it then FFnet did something funny and I lost it all. Enjoy and review!

Chapter Two

The Stranger

Harry Potter was snoring loudly. Somehow he had begun to out snore Ron. In fact they had started a competition. Who could keep Hermione Granger awake longest by snoring loudest. She jammed a pillow over her ears and tried to get to sleep. But as soon as she started drifting a rather loud snort, one of the eccentricities of Ron's sleeping habits, came from the bedroom opposite.

Hermione didn't know why it was bothering her as it was. Surely she was a tired enough to sleep through them... Or was something else keeping her awake. She fiddled with the sheet on her pillow before turning over and switching the light on. Perhaps it was their latest trouble. Horcruxes had quickly become the bane of Hermione's life. Perhaps her subconscious had discovered something but what? She dug in her mind...

Hermione Granger jumped out of her skin. A dark shadow was beating against her window pane. It took her a second to realise it was the form of an owl. She relaxed slightly and leant over to let the big bird in. It was a powerful owl, and greatly beautiful with a stately air which made it instantly recognisable. Except that Hermione couldn't place where from. She took the note from it's talon and it flew off instantly. She closed the window absentmindedly behind the great bird before breaking the black wax seal on the back. The seal gave no clue to the identity of the sender. She was intrigued and opened it faster than she should, ripping the parchment slightly.

Dear Ms Granger, it read,

I have a bargain I am willing to do with you. I have certain information regarding Lord Voldemort's plans. I wish to trade this information with you in return for information that I am unable to get hold of concerning the Dark Lord. However I must demand that you tell no one. If you are willing to acquiesce to these terms please sign the bottom. This will not only notify me of your agreement but will prohibit you or I from breaking these terms. If you should so agree I will contact you further to arrange time and place.

The agreement:

Meet to exchange information

Meet alone

Speak of the meetings to no one

To be met by both parties.

She stared open mouthed at the parchment unable to believe. Spies they had but few in number. Inside information would aid the cause of the Order hugely. But if this was a trick, albeit a very strange one, it could forfeit her life in the bargaining. If she decided to accept she could not tell Harry or Ron. And even if she discussed the idea she had the feeling the ink to them would be invisible and after she showed it to them invisible to her as well. The magic already in the paper was proof enough to her that whoever she was dealing with they were exceptionally skilled. Perhaps she knew them?

But she could think of no Death Eaters that would turn traitor and ask for her help. Except perhaps Theodore Nott. But he was not thought to be a Death Eater, merely in hiding like the rest of the country. He had been an intelligent Slytherin who she had shared a few secret highly intellectual conversations with. She supposed in was not beyond reason it was him. Most likely out of all the possibilities which had occurred to her. She turned the idea over in her mind again.

In the end, who else could it be?

--

Hermione had not decided by the next evening. They had spent all day going over the newly acquired memories from a Brazilian wizard who had seen Voldemort in his lost years. They hoped South America might hold the answer to the missing Horacuxes. So far however it seemed to be a red herring.

"Hermione, it's your turn to stay behind." Ron said gleefully. Every time they popped over to another continent either Ron or Hermione stayed behind so to be in touch should anything happen whilst Harry was uncontactable. It was perfectly safe as their house was hidden by the secret keeper in which Harry, for neither of the other two knew who it was for their own safety, had complete faith.

"I know Ron." She scowled at his delighted face. "How long do you think you'll be?" She asked Harry a mildly concerned look on her face. Harry shrugged.

"I don't know. The Amazon is very big. We can use spells and stuff but it'll still be really difficult." It had been decided that they must look for a man mentioned in the wizard's memory by Voldemort. A native tribesman. Undoubtedly it was a futile hope that he was still alive let alone able to be found in the great expanse but such a slim hope as this had been what led them to the third Horcrux.

"Alright." Hermione said looking mildly worried. "If you're out there for a week come back and we'll try something else." She ordered slouching slightly into the worn sofa on which were spread all the documents and artifacts they had collected.

So she would be home alone for a week. The boys would expect her to be housebound as were they al when two left for somewhere else... but the offer of information... Would such an offer prevent the happenings of 21st of October occurring again? The temptation circled her mind.

"How about a takeaway?" Ron asked peering at the time. Hermione and Harry exchanged glances.

"I'd forgotten it was your day to cook." Hermione responded with a slightly icy edge to her voice. "But I suppose a take away it better than you cooking anyway." She let a small smile grace her lips before carefully standing up. "I'll let you decide. I'm just going upstairs for a bit."

They understood. This was quiet time. What time use to be spent in the library was now spent in her room. Alone. Peaceful.

The letter was still on her bed. Lying there. Waiting. The black ink in the calligraphy handwriting screamed danger. And it was so tempting. She fidgeted stroking Crookshank's thick mane of fur. The cat dug her claws into her and Hermione jumped out of her revelry. She had been pulling the cat's fur.

"Sorry Crookshanks." She apologised, kissing the cat's head. Crookshanks glared a moment before taking over the main space of her small bed. Hermione's attention was back on the letter. She was so divided. Torn. Unable to decide. Lost.

She shook these thoughts from her head and began tiding her already immaculate room. Tidy room, tidy mind she reasoned. But her mind was anything but clear.

--

By the next morning Hermione decided this deliberation was ridiculous. She would do it. And even though she was not able to tell anyone she could keep her wand ready to charm her help or ready to apparate at any point. She got up at seven o'clock, half an hour before the boys were due to leave for South America and signed her name in red ink at the bottom of the letter. Almost immediately another signatureabove her name came in green ink and then they both faded quickly before she could decipher it.

Hermione felt her heart racing although she had done nothing but sign her name. She was relieved but at the same time worried.

By eight o'clock the house felt empty. The boys had noisly departed and already Hermione felt their loss. It was lonely without them. A scratching on the back window of the kitchen awakened her to the same owl bearing another sealed note. She let him in hastily. The bird flew in and landed on the back of the kitchen chair, his eyes haughtily looking around the small abode.

She removed the letter avoiding his talons.

Tonight, Ironmonger Street, Southbank London. Midnight. Yours faithfully.

Hermione felt a cold chill. She didn't know where Ironmonger street was but she knew theSouth Bank would be pretty busy. He'd chosen somewhere with the intention of not worrying her about murder. And that sensitivity from someone purporting to know something about Voldemort was chilling.

The bird flew off a hoot, much like a mocking laugh, all that penetrated Hermione's thoughts.

--

At eleven thirty Hermione apparated to the Southbank. She took a coffee on a small bar overlooking the Thames and watched the people leaving the Globe theatre. She was accustomising herself to the area, trying to make herself feel safe. Yet an unnerving worry was edging itself into her physique. She was wondering whether she had made a terrible mistake.

Ironmonger Street was the oldest street in London able to trace it's root back to when it was an alleyway for the Roman's Londoninium. All this Hermione had learnt when she embarked on finding out where Ironmonger Street was. Hermione, being Hermione Granger, had wanted to know everything about what she was getting into. She had half been expecting to find that it had been the site of three grisly murders. But instead she had found a peaceful quiet alleyway.

The witching hour was nearly here and Hermione wondered if Big Ben would make her jump or even if she would hear it from this distance. It was starting to sleet. Her bushy hair, stuffed back in a bun, was becoming wet with the sloshing mixture of ice and water. And she was getting cold. Being in Muggle London and in Muggle clothes she was perilously wearing no cloak to keep the worst of the biting wind out.

"Hello Hermione." The voice was warm. Kindly. Hermione had a flash back of Dumbledore as she turned to look at the dark cloaked figure that stood ten feet behind her. He looked anything but warm or kindly. He was tall and cloaked in a shroud of darkness which hid him like a brother. "I'm glad your here."

"What information do you have for me?" She asked her well practised first question with the correct inclination on the voice and tone as she had done a thousand times today.

"Voldemort's current operation's base is in Gloustershire. South Western corner. Mansion called DarkWood Halls. Formerly owned by the MacDonart family." Whatever answer Hermione had been expecting it was not this. Not a straight answer. She was speechless for a few seconds... Hermione scolded herself that thinking on her feet was not always her best skill. "Being so business like I suppose I could ask you for your information. I would like to know where the Order thinks Voldemort's Wormtail is."

"Wormtail? They..." Hermione had been so consumed in what to do when this turned out to be a trap she had forgotten to plan for what to do should this turn out to be legitimate. Oh bugger. "I believe they think he is searching Bournemouth for some lost magical artifact." She answered wondering what on earth this wizard would want with the Wormtail. Or in fact what anyone would want with Wormtail.

The stranger nodded then turned to leave. She couldn't let him leave. "Wait, wait." He turned back slowly as if showing reluctance even though his face was deep in the shadow of the cloak. "I want to know why you want this information."

"That was not in our agreement. Besides you will not tell me what you are doing with my information." The voice was smooth, a little angelic. That slightly mocking gentle tone was present again. Ethereal. That's what that voice was. Perhaps he was related to the Veela? "It is only fair that our information, whatever it is be a straight swap."

"Well then what is your name? You know mine, therefore I should know yours." Hermione argued back desperate to get something in return.

"Touché. But my name is something I must keep secret so you may ask another question and I shall answer it."

Hermione searched the darkness of his face to find anything human. Perhaps he wasn't. Voldemort had recruited many species to his cause. Perhaps this was one of them. She seemed satisfied with that conclusion. "How did your owl find me? It's not possible. The house is too enchanted against being found."

"Your house is enchanted, I think, against Wizards. But I am no longer a wizard." And with that cryptic remark he melted in the night, his cloak flailing out behind him.

--

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