Harry, Ron and Ginny very kindly visited during breakfast to loudly exclaim how healthy and bright she looked, and Madam Pomfrey gave in and let her out of the ward.
"Thanks, guys," Hermione said. "I feel bad to be leaving Bill alone with her…"
"Yeah, Madam Pomfrey and Fleur," Ginny agreed. "Fenrir Greyback cursed Bill in more ways than one."
"We were going to go walk round the lake," Harry said. "Do you want to join?"
"Don't be silly, Harry, there's still a whole five books in the library that Hermione hasn't read," Ron said. Hermione poked him.
"That sounds great, actually. I've basically been asleep for 32 hours, I need to wake up. And then I will go to the library," Hermione finished deliberately, Ron's laugh not unkind.
The weather was so beautiful the squid was waving a few tentacles above the surface of the lake. There were a surprising number of people on the grounds; not just students but an assortment of important looking people.
"Wow, you were right about all the people arriving for the funeral," Hermione remarked. She turned to look at Harry. "Has Scrimgeour tracked you down yet?"
"I've been avoiding him," Harry said.
"That's impressive," she said. "Even with so many Ministry people here?"
"Whenever some government type appears, we head somewhere else. He doesn't appear to have put a location spell on me yet."
"And if he does, I'm going to activate the Emergency Response Plan," Ginny said.
"What's that?" Hermione asked, surprised they had put this much effort into avoiding the Minister.
"Ah, that's a secret, Hermione…but it involves removing a lot of clothes very fast and relying on some stuffy bureaucrat's sense of propriety…"
Hermione laughed as Ginny fake-swooned over Harry, ignoring Ron's grumbling.
Even after everything that had happened, Madam Pince regarded Hermione with the same sulky glare as she entered the library. Not wanting to arouse any suspicion, she bit her lip until she walked past, before allowing herself to grin widely at how ridiculous the librarian was. It didn't matter one iota that the headmaster had been assassinated in Hogwarts in Madam Pince's world, apparently – the only misery was that students continued to use the library.
She headed to the Wizengamot records and started flicking through for Death Eater trials. The title that the author of Harry's note used when addressing Voldemort was the only context clue she could pick up on reading it quickly in the hospital wing – Hermione had only heard Death Eaters or sympathisers use Voldemort's stupid, made-up title.
Several minutes in, her heart jumped as she pulled out a scroll quite literally as long as her arm that referenced a Bellatrix Lestrange née Black, but two hours later Hermione conceded defeat to the insanity of pureblood incest. A clue that the thief may have been a Black was almost as wide as the clue that they were a Death Eater.
She got up from the table she was using and wandered over to the window, stretching her fingers above her head. There was a horrible old tapestry of Sirius' family tree at Grimmauld Place; there might be a clue there as to Blacks whose first names began with the letter R. Hermione turned back around and considered the rows and rows of shelved books, and the limited time she had remaining.
Historical accounts of Voldemort's prior rise to power. Death Eater criminal records. Curse and ward breaking. And no bloody books on horcruxes. Hermione tried her hardest not to be mad at a dead man for giving Harry the task of destroying horcruxes but not providing a reading list.
There was another magical library that had a slight chance of housing material on splitting your soul; though it would require breaking the promise to Dumbledore and extending the secret to someone beside Voldemort.
How is the manor today? she sent Draco politely, not wanting to insensitively launch headfirst into a research request of Malfoy manor. She started returning the Wizengamot records, thinking vaguely of what might be for lunch. Madam Pince sent her out of the library with a sniff.
"Hey," she greeted Harry, Ron and Ginny in the Great Hall, grabbing an egg and cress sandwich.
"Well? Did the library give up its remaining secrets to you?" Ron asked. Hermione rolled her eyes and tugged on Harry's sleeve.
"Do you also think the author is a…? Given how they addressed it," Hermione said quietly to him.
Harry gave a small nod. "Yes," he said.
"I think it's, um…someone on Padfoot's family tree," she said, and Harry looked at her, stricken. "The third letter? But I don't think that helps us m-"
But Harry leant forward, shoving her sandwich out of the way to whisper in her ear. "Sirius' brother. Regulus."
Hermione felt her eyes widen, as Harry's glazed over with thought.
"It fits with what Padfoot told me," he said. "Left the inner circle. Dead a few days later."
She picked up her egg sandwich again, trying to look casual to potential observers. "So. Visit to Grimmauld Place?" Hermione suggested quietly. Harry nodded.
"Yes. We'll have to dodge Snape, but yes. Ah, I should have thought of it sooner. Thanks, Hermione," Harry said. She shook her head, relieved she could help out with something amongst the mountain of guilt she was snowed under about Dumbledore's death and Snape's escape.
Like he could tell she was feeling ill, the bangle warmed against her wrist. Harry returned to chatting quidditch with Ron and Ginny, giving Hermione space to surreptitiously remove her bangle and read it under the table.
Quiet. They celebrated last night.
Hermione felt queasy at the idea of a Death Eater party; she could only imagine how much worse it would be to actually have to attend one rather than merely consider the concept. That sounds grim, I'm sorry, she replied, pouring a mug of tea and half-listening to Ron and Ginny argue about Chaser tactics. Hermione looked to the head table, Dumbledore's empty seat looming very large over the entire Hall. The Minister of Magic had rather boldly taken Snape's usual spot, and she watched him out of the corner of her eye as her bangle pinged again.
It's fucking terrifying here. I thought the pressure would ease afterward. But it's worse.
Hermione wanted to slam her head into the table and scream. Of course it was worse at Voldemort's fucking headquarters, what on earth was he expecting? And then, a suffocating layer of guilt blocked up her throat – it was not like Draco had wanted to return to Malfoy manor. He told her he felt the Vow and her mission with Harry left him no choice.
Hermione jumped up, not trusting herself to remain composed. "Bathroom," she said, walking quickly from the Hall. She jogged up several flights of stairs until her lungs and stomach complained, and ran into a bathroom, throwing up in the sink.
She grimaced as best as she could at a couple of younger girls until they finished washing their hands and left, and then banged her head against the mirror. Is it my fault?
The idea was too terrifying. Hermione whacked her bruised hand against the sink's steel tap until the pain made the thought go quiet. Quiet enough to tell Draco you can do this, remember: spells and exercises, try not to drink to get out of bed. Quiet enough to walk back to her dorm and self-cast a Fainting Spell to try and block out the screaming guilt.
The sky was bleeding orange when she woke again. Hermione blinked and tilted her head to look out the window, past Parvati's empty bed. There was a moment of beautiful colour and thudding pain before she remembered why she had gone to bed at 1pm in the first place.
She pulled off her bangle and saw her earlier message – Draco had not responded. Well. He couldn't be blamed for that, Hermione reasoned. She wouldn't either, if she was him. All she had to offer now was sympathy. It was hard to believe it had only been a few weeks since he tried to use the Vow against her. How quickly the promise had turned.
Hermione closed her eyes and wondered if Voldemort had ever regretted a horcrux or other irreversible magical act after it was too late. Surely not, if he wanted to make seven of them after already murdering his remaining family. And, having pondered the question, Hermione wasn't sure regret was the right word for how she felt about the Vow. It was the bridge to Draco Malfoy, after all. Maybe it was just a vague sadness that the cost was so steep.
Dumbledore had sold only a hand for a seventh of Voldemort's soul. It felt like she and Draco had sacrificed a lot more to pull Draco out of blood supremacy and get Hermione one chance of escape.
Hermione swallowed and got off her bed, walking over to the window to open it and lean into the evening breeze. Dumbledore hadn't even told Harry how he had destroyed the horcrux that took his hand…they knew basilisk fangs could do it, but that was it…
And Hermione sighed bitterly as she dwelled again on the lack of content on horcruxes in the library, watching small figures stand some distance from the lake as the squid moved around near the surface, and looking up to stare into the wide, beautiful windows that Harry had told her were in the Headmaster's Office. How had Dumbledore known -?
She started suddenly, pushing painfully on her beaten right hand, and ran out of the dorm. Thankfully, Harry, Ron and Ginny were in the common room, also enjoying the evening air by a window.
"Oh, there you are," Ron said. "We didn't see you at dinner."
"I fell asleep," she half-lied. "I think exams being cancelled has stuffed up my sleeping."
"Exams? Not an Imperius Curse?" Ginny asked, too observantly.
"Well, maybe," Hermione admitted, sitting down by Harry and trying to poke him without Ron and Ginny noticing.
"You should eat," Harry said. "Let's go see if dinner is finished."
"Surely it's done by now?" Ron remarked. "Maybe try the kitchens. If the house-elves have forgiven Hermione, yet. You might need to wait outside." He pointed an accusatory finger at her.
"Ugh," she huffed, shoving herself back up and heading to leave the Tower. Harry followed behind her.
"What's up?" he asked as they left, heading down the staircase.
Hermione looked around, but the area was deserted. "I think we need to get into the Headmaster's office."
Harry looked surprised. "What? Why?"
"How did Dumbledore know how to destroy the ring?" she asked. Harry shrugged.
"I don't know, Hermione, that man knew everything –"
"I know, Harry – but not out of thin air," she said. "I think there might be books we need in his office."
Harry blinked, and looked away, staring at a portrait of a man being eaten alive by tigers.
"Well?" she asked after a moment of silence. "All we know is one method to destroy them, right, like you did in second year. And we don't have any, so –"
"Ron had an idea about that, actually," Harry interrupted.
"Oh?"
"He reckons we pay a visit to Slytherin's hidey hole before leaving," he said quietly. Hermione gasped.
"Oh my god, that's brilliant! Of course."
Harry nodded. "Yeah, I thought so too. We're heading out tonight. If you're up to coming? I'm not sure if there's some horrible blood magic thing there that would stop you, though…"
"Oh, good point," Hermione said, frowning. "Well, maybe we try it? I bet it might not be the first time we encounter some nasty blood purity curse." She watched the painted man run away sans arm from the oil painting tiger. "But I still think we should check Dumbledore's office," she insisted. "Knowing more about them is so important, I think. It might narrow down locations, or things we need to watch out for…they're really messed up bits of magic…"
"You're probably right," Harry said eventually, and he started to walk down the stairs again. "McGonagall's in the Order. We could just ask her."
Hermione blinked. She'd forgotten that the acting Headmistress was in the Order. "Oh. Yeah, I guess you're right. Let's go," she said. "Do you know where she is?"
"Hold on," he replied, pulling out the Marauder's Map. They bent over it for a few minutes, looking for the Professor.
"Ugh, she's with Scrimgeour," Harry blanched, pointing to a hallway Professor McGonagall and the Minister of Magic were walking through.
"I can get round that," Hermione said. "He might be leaving anyway. Let's head that way, you can always put the Cloak on and I can invent some stupid school problem…"
"Hmm. What would Fred and George do?" Harry wondered out loud.
"I'm not half as creative as them," Hermione replied. "Maybe I'll just say there's a bunch of hysterical Gryffindors or something."
"I think the teachers have given up on looking after students," he said. "Parents are just coming in and grabbing their kids. Haven't seen them lift a finger."
"…Well. One of the Heads of House caused all this," Hermione said. "And another now has to be the acting Headmistress while the funeral of the year takes place…and the Ministry lurks around." Harry gave an irritated shrug and Hermione stopped talking. They tracked McGonagall down near the Head's Office. Harry shrugged the Cloak on as Hermione walked quickly to grab McGonagall before she entered her new office with the Minister.
"Professor!" she called out, jogging towards McGonagall and Scrimgeour. "Minister. Apologies; could I have a moment after your meeting?"
"Yes, Granger," Professor McGonagall replied, pulling out a pocket watch. "The Minister and I should be done at 9."
Scrimgeour gave Hermione a strangely furious look. "Granger? Hermione Granger?" he asked.
"Uh…yes. Hello, Minister," Hermione replied, flummoxed he knew her name. She had a sinking feeling - it could not mean anything good.
"No need to wait on my account. What do you need to discuss with Professor McGonagall?" he asked, staring at the two of them with a strange amount of anger.
"If it's about the Pa-" McGonagall started, but the Minister interrupted her.
"No need to put words in Miss Granger's mouth, Headmistress," Scrimgeour cut across loudly. "Well?"
Hermione stood up straighter and ignored the Minister, staring straight at the Professor. "It's about plans to meet with some of the students' parents tomorrow," she invented. "The prefects want to discuss beforehand, if you have time Professor."
"Yes, thank you, Granger," McGonagall sighed convincingly. "9pm will work. Please tell the other prefects to meet in the Transfiguration classroom."
Hermione nodded and turned on her heel, slightly shaken and quite rankled. Harry pulled the Cloak off after some distance was put between the Head's Office and them, looking worried.
"Wow, he was not happy, was he?" Harry said, glancing back. "And he knows who you are."
"Very normal, wasn't it?" Hermione asked sarcastically. "He must suspect something. We should tell Ron, he also needs to be careful." Harry swore.
"This fucking government," he said savagely.
"I know," Hermione replied, patting his arm sympathetically. "Come on. Second dessert time, I think, while we wait."
It was an enjoyable way to kill a couple of hours – Dobby was so excited to load Harry and Hermione up with leftover sponge cake and fruit salad. On Harry's anger at the topic of Snape coming up, the elf immediately redirected the conversation to the catering plans for Dumbledore's funeral, and the odd dietary requests of various important visitors. Full of fruit and cake, they made their way to McGonagall's classroom.
Harry unlocked the door and Hermione followed him in, trying not to think about the Charms classroom. She Transfigured a desk into a chocolate Labrador that ran up to Harry happily, sniffing his hands. Harry smiled at it, a strange expression on his face. "This was the Transfiguration Cedric did, wasn't it?" he asked. "At the First Task."
"Ah – yeah," Hermione said, suddenly remembering and feeling very guilty she had reminded him of Cedric. "I'm sorry Harry, I forgot. Here –"
She reached for her wand, but Harry held out his hand. "Nah, leave it. Might butter up McGonagall anyway." He patted the dog on the head, and it started yapping excitedly. "He's very happy for a desk. How do you magic it so the animal acts playful? I think I only got about as far as a bowl into a turtle when we were doing animal transfiguration."
"It's an additional layer of charming, but I'm not sure how helpful –" Hermione started, but Professor McGonagall entered the classroom, staring at the two of them and the magical brown dog.
"Hello, Professor," Hermione greeted. Professor McGonagall sighed.
"Hello Granger, Potter," she said. "Do put the desk back to how it was, won't you?"
Hermione waved her wand and Harry shoved the reformed desk back into place. "Not a dog fan, Professor?" he asked, and Hermione wished she was closer to him so she could kick him.
"As a cat animagus?" Professor McGonagall sniffed. "What do you two want?"
"Professor – we need a moment in your new office," Hermione said. McGonagall looked to Harry, who nodded.
"Why?" she asked him.
"Hermione believes there may be research material in there that I hadn't covered in my lessons with Professor Dumbledore," Harry said. The Professor crossed her arms, looking at Harry with an entirely uninviting expression on her face. This was not going as they had hoped.
"Indeed. And you expect me to give it to you?" she asked Harry tersely.
"Actually, Professor, we need to find it ourselves," Harry replied. Hermione felt her heart skip a beat at Harry's boldness.
"So you want me to let you into the acting Headmistress's office and take whatever you want?" Professor McGonagall asked them both incredulously, turning to Hermione.
"I promise we will be completely respectful, Professor," she said. "We are only looking for some books on a particular topic. If we told you the topic, it would breach the secrecy Harry promised to Professor Dumbledore. We are not asking to rummage carte blanche through Professor Dumbledore's belongings."
"How generous of you," Professor McGonagall sneered. "But unfortunately, you are directing your request to the wrong person. The Ministry of Magic has taken control of Professor Dumbledore's assets."
"What?" Harry exclaimed, jumping up from the desk he was sitting on.
"Is that what you were meeting the Minister about, Professor?" Hermione asked.
"You two, and Mr Weasley, need to be very careful," she said quietly. "Scrimgeour is asking about your relationships with Albus. I suggest you consider what your answer will be when the Ministry comes calling."
"So, if we need to remove something from Professor Dumbledore's office," Hermione continued, thinking fast, "we cannot do it under your authority?"
"No," McGonagall said. "And if you intend to take it under your own, you should know that the Ministry will bring auditors to the office tomorrow morning at 8am. Some items have already been removed."
Harry swore. Hermione rushed forward to grab his arm and drag him out of the classroom.
"Thank you, Professor. I'll discuss with Hannah and Ernie," she said loudly as she left.
"Get the Cloak," she whispered to Harry. "We've got to try now."