Hermione ran through the streets.
She put a hand to her mouth, stifling the cries that rang from her throat.
Narcissa was dead.
Hermione saw lights in the distance, and without thinking, she followed them blindly, stepping into the road.
She froze when she heard the screeching of tires.
A pair of headlights blinded her.
She screamed as a cab swerved and missed her by inches.
The driver shouted at her and sped away.
Hermione stood, paralyzed.
Keep moving, she told herself.
She hurried onto the pavement.
The street ahead was thick with people.
She had no idea where she was, but maybe she could blend into the crowd, find a way to vanish before the Death Eaters found her…
Panic rose in her chest, and she ducked into the nearest pub. It was dimly lit, and when her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw that there were two men inside.
They were listening to a radio.
"Turn it up Ed, will you?" said one of the men suddenly.
Hermione ducked under a table.
The radio's dial was turned up, and an announcer's voice carried across the room.
"With Britain isolated from the outside world, food shortages are at an all time high. Families are rationing the little they have. In the wake of Voldemort's attacks, thousands in Britain are left homeless…"
Hermione turned to look at the door, desperate to think of a proper plan before the Death Eaters found her.
The report continued, interrupting her thoughts.
"Thus far the British people have endured unimaginable loss and uncertainty. The dark wizard known as Voldemort has blown up factories and shipyards across Britain, hoping to stop us from manufacturing more weapons. Curfews and mandatory blackouts are enforced as of Tuesday. The Prime Minister hopes the enemy will be unable to find its targets in the darkness, but many argue this will only increase crime…"
Hermione winced as one of her legs began to cramp. She shifted her weight. The reporter went on to list details of the blackouts, then the conversation shifted to London. It remained a stronghold against Voldemort's army.
"Thousands have taken to the motorways in an attempt to reach the outskirts of Greater London, only to be turned away. Overcrowding has forced government officials to close the city's borders…"
Hermione froze when she heard the door open, but it was only the bar keeper.
She forced herself to think.
She needed to use her magic to charm a car, a motorbike, anything to get out of here…
She looked at the two men sitting by the radio. One of them had a jumper hanging from the back of his chair.
"Accio," she whispered.
The garment drifted towards her.
Hermione seized it and threw it over her head.
With a final glance at the door, she gathered her courage, and rushed outside.
Pedestrians were hurrying up and down the pavement, eager to return home before the mandatory blackouts started.
According to the reports, the street lights would go off at eight.
A man at the edge of the street was looking longingly at Hermione's pockets, like he hoped to steal something valuable.
Hermione swallowed. If they turned all the lights out, she'd have more than the Death Eaters to worry about…
She pulled her hood down so that it covered more of her face, then set off again.
There were dozens of people sleeping on the streets, wrapped in thick blankets.
A whole block of flats lay in ruins the next street over. From the looks of it, this city had been attacked before…maybe weeks or months ago.
The ruins of a textile mill were also crumbling, and several street signs hung haphazardly on their posts, looking like they'd crash to the ground at any moment.
Hermione guessed she was somewhere near Glasgow.
"HEY! WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING!"
Hermione spun around.
A muggle had yelled at two Death Eaters at the end of the street. They were shoving past people.
A clock tower chimed somewhere.
Store windows were promptly covered by thick curtains.
Doors were locked shut.
The lights on the street started to go out one by one.
Hermione ran, turning left then right again.
She stiffened when she heard the sound of glass breaking.
Across the street two men were breaking into a store, hoping to steal food.
She dove behind a pair of dustbins. There was no police presence nearby, and she doubted anyone would come to her aid if she needed help.
When the coast was clear Hermione made a run for it, rushing back to the high street. She collided with a crowd of people. They were going into the tube stations for the night, seeking refuge from the cold.
Hermione knew it was too late to leave the city. The roads were empty. No one was driving at this hour. If the Death Eaters spotted a vehicle, they'd assume it was her, trying to escape.
She followed the crowd into the nearest station, past a ticket hall then walked down another set of steps.
There were whole families gathered below, and Hermione saw that people were sleeping on staircases, platforms and whatever empty spaces they could find.
It looked like the trains had stopped running long ago.
Hermione made sure her hood was securely in place. She kept to herself despite the cramped conditions, avoiding eye contact with those around her.
She saw that people were making do with what they had, eating bits of stale bread and passing around water.
She froze when she caught sight of a man's muggle newspaper.
Her face was on the cover.
The headline read: "Missing Woman, Last Seen in Inverness." The report went on to claim that she was a highly dangerous criminal, and should be reported to the police if spotted.
Hermione guessed Moody was behind this. He didn't trust her anymore, not after she'd fled with Draco…
Her temples pounded.
Shock and exhaustion had taken their toll on her body. She clutched so tightly to the wand hidden in her pocket, that her knuckles turned white.
Hermione's back went ramrod straight when she saw two figures walk down the station's steps. They were wearing long, black robes.
In unison, they raised their wands and whispered, "Incendio."
She scrambled to her feet.
A line of fire spread from one end of the tunnel to the other.
There was panic and confusion as people rushed for the exits.
Hermione coughed violently, trying to find a way out.
BANG
A large fireball blasted through the station's ceiling.
Everyone screamed and ducked down.
A man fell backwards onto the rails.
Hermione flattened herself against the wall.
And then the Death Eaters spotted her.
Rage coursed through Hermione's veins…she wasn't going to run anymore…
She raised her wand, prepared to duel. She refused to die in the fiery coffin they'd made for her.
Two Weeks Later
"There seems to be no end in sight to a war that has taken countless lives, magic and muggle alike. And the search for the missing body of Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, goes on…meanwhile his friend, Hermione Granger, is reported to have killed Narcissa Malfoy and attacked two Death Eaters. Witnesses claim Ms. Granger disappeared after the battle at Inverness with You-Know-Who's youngest Death Eater, Draco Malfoy. The two fled shortly after attacking a high ranking Order member. The Order is currently investigating their whereabouts…"
Bill Weasley turned off the radio.
His long, red hair was unkempt, and he tugged at his earring.
A short distance away, Moody was speaking with Aksel Agarby.
They were somewhere south of Greenock. The Magical Alliance was preparing to move again in the morning.
Moody looked at Bill suspiciously.
He frowned.
Moody couldn't possibly know…he had taken such pains to remain above suspicion…
Bill walked to the far end of the camp until he reached his own tent.
He looked behind him and made sure he wasn't followed, then he opened the flap and ducked inside.
"Lumos," he whispered, illuminating the small space.
"You can come out now."
A girl stepped into the light. Her clothes were tattered from days on the road.
There was dirt on her face.
"Did they suspect anything?" Hermione asked.
Bill shook his head. "No, but you can't stay."
Hermione had spent numerous days on the run, risking her life to find the Order.
Bill folded his arms across his chest. "Why are you here?"
"Harry asked me to do something before he died." Hermione gathered her courage, hoping Bill wouldn't turn her over to Moody as soon as she told him the truth. "He wanted me to go to Renwick Abbey. There's something hidden there. Bellatrix tortured me, thinking that I knew what it was. Harry told me to ask Ron for help, but I don't want to involve him—I was hoping you could talk to him, and work out what he knows…"
Bill looked at her darkly. "I've heard rumors about that place. Voldemort doesn't want his own followers to know what's hidden there. He's filled the abbey with curses and enchantments. None of our curse breakers have managed to get in either. I've tried myself. Even if Ron tells us what's inside, we won't be able to get past the protective spells."
Hermione nodded, sitting on a low, wooden chair.
She had one option left available to her. She had to go to London. She had to see if there was any record of Catherine's daughter at Bellefaire Orphanage.
"How did you find me?" Bill asked, interrupting her thoughts.
Hermione looked up at him. "I tracked the Alliance after last week's battle in Glencoe."
Her magic had regained its strength, and she felt confident that she could make the journey to London on her own. She took a steadying breath. "Bill, I need your help. I'm meant to do something, find someone…and end all this. I was hoping you could tell me how to get to London. I know the muggles closed off the city, but—"
"It's too dangerous," Bill interrupted.
"But you always said to come to you if I needed help, if I was ever separated from Ron…"
"But you weren't separated from Ron, were you, Hermione? You ran away with Malfoy at Inverness. And now, it turns out you've killed his mother and two Death Eaters."
Hermione gaped at him. "I didn't kill his mother. As for the two Death Eaters, I dueled them and I managed to escape. They died trapped in a fire, a fire they started—"
Bill interrupted her. "My mother and George are still imprisoned at Greymoor Castle. I need the Order's help to get them out. If Moody finds out I've helped you, he—"
"I should go then," Hermione said, rising out of her seat. "I don't want to put your family at risk."
Bill cursed loudly. "Where will you go?"
"Sebastián and the Arévalos—they'll know what to do. Please don't tell anyone I was here."
Hermione made to move past him, but Bill blocked her way.
"You're risking too much, Hermione."
She felt a lump rise in her throat. "I don't have a choice."
Bill was silent for a moment, debating whether or not to ask her something.
She held his gaze, waiting…
"What happened to Draco, Hermione?"
Her face darkened. She hadn't spoken about him since that night.
"He wanted to protect me from Voldemort, but he couldn't…"
"Is he dead?" Bill asked.
Hermione felt as though someone had a vice-like grip on her heart. "I don't know…" she said.
She made to leave again but Bill seized her arm, making her stop.
"London isn't the way you remember it."
Hermione laughed bitterly. "Harry told me the same thing."
"What are you looking for?"
She hesitated. It was the one thing she couldn't tell him. There was too much at risk.
"It's better if you don't know."
Bill paced the tent, trying to reason with her. "The journey to London is full of traps."
"I know that," Hermione said. "If I fly the dementors will catch me, and only the Death Eaters can apparate now—I thought I could charm a car but I've heard the Muggle authorities have checkpoints on every motorway. I'm sure Moody's listed me as some sort of criminal in their records."
"Is that why you came to see me?" Bill asked. "So that I could clear your name in the system?"
Hermione nodded.
"Even if you get inside the city—the muggles have lost all sense. Angry mobs have attacked witches and wizards…killed them."
Hermione looked at him in horror. "The government is allowing that sort violence?"
"They don't have the manpower to control the people, they're too busy fighting Voldemort."
Hermione breathed in deeply, "I know it's dangerous, but I still have to go."
"And how do you intend to get there?"
"I'll have to get a horse, won't I?" she said simply. "Seeing as the motorway isn't an option."
"It's a week's ride to London!"
"Bill, you don't understand. If I don't make it there, Voldemort will win this war."
He scoffed. "You're going to have to elaborate a bit more than that."
Hermione resisted the urge to scream. "It's like I said before, I can't tell you! You have to trust me."
Bill was silent. He knew he couldn't report her to Moody—Ron would know she was here. He'd probably try to help her and get himself killed in the process…
"Keep off the motorway until you reach London," Bill said, resigned. "Walk to the checkpoint in Watford. The muggle authorities will check your record in the system. Moody listed you as a wanted criminal, but I'll make sure to change that. He hoped the muggle authorities would detain you, until he could arrest you himself."
Hermione frowned at him. "The muggle government is still working with the Order, then?"
Bill nodded. "Yes, for now at least." He thought for a moment. "I'll list you as a government agent. They'll have to let you pass. But if Moody finds out, he'll have my head—" He pointed to Hermione's wand. "And there's one more thing. You can't take that into the city. They'll think you're working for Voldemort. For now they're only letting high ranking members of the Order and the Alliance through the border to speak to the Prime Minister. All other wizards and witches are questioned, imprisoned…or worse."
"Can't you list me as an Order member, then?"
Bill shook his head. "I don't have that kind of clearance. Like I said, the most I can do is list you as a government agent—the muggles will think you're one of theirs."
Hermione nodded.
"But be careful," Bill warned. "And don't try to confund the authorities. They've developed ways to detect magic, Hermione."
She stared at him, stunned. "But how—"
"They've learned a lot about us over the last few months. The muggle government is playing along with the Alliance until they defeat Voldemort. They plan to let the Allied forces into London once they're certain Voldemort's army will attack. But do you really think they'll let us have our secret world once this is over? We've done too much damage this time. We've threatened their way of life, and the truth is…there's more of them than there are of us."
Hermione nodded.
Bill spoke again. "We need to end this. The Death Eaters are getting more reckless, and Voldemort's obscurement charm is weakening. Hopefully, if he doesn't take the city soon, the muggles will get their planes up in the skies and we'll stand a chance against him."
Bill took Hermione's hand.
"But until then, you have to be careful. You're going into a muggle city unarmed, without the support of the Order or the Alliance."
Hermione swallowed.
Bill looked at her closely. "I don't know what happened between you and Malfoy, but don't let anything distract you while you're there. You're dead otherwise."
Hermione nodded. "I know."
Bill moved away from her. "I'll get you that horse, and a few other things. Wait here."
Hermione reached for his arm.
"Thank you Bill," she said, embracing him before he could leave the tent.
He wrapped his arms around her and Hermione buried her face into his shoulder, knowing he was the last friend she would see for a long time.
Britain was stretched to its breaking point.
There were hundreds of people walking along the motorways hoping to reach London.
All Hermione carried on her person was Dolohov's wand and the Founder's book.
She stole food when she had to. She slept in the woods and cast protective enchantments around herself.
She only traveled at night.
And when she wasn't riding, she practiced her wandless magic.
She searched the Daily Prophet for news of Draco. She listened to the wizarding wireless network every morning, but none of the reports mentioned him at all.
She often had nightmares of him, and when she thought she would lose her sanity, she focused on Catherine's daughter instead. She remembered the date in the Founder's book. Catherine had given birth in 1945…that meant her daughter was almost fifty years old. Had this woman integrated herself into wizarding society, or had she remained in hiding all this time? A ghost…
Hermione flipped through the pages of the Founder's Book hoping to find answers, but the parchment remained blank, revealing nothing.
She tried to keep a clear head when she was riding, forcing her thoughts of Draco and Catherine to the back of her mind.
She passed city after city, and one night alarms sounded in Langholm, signaling the start of a raid. She kept out of sight, watching as the Magical Alliance attacked Voldemort's forces.
Hermione didn't see how things could go on this way for much longer.
She remembered Bill's words.
Now that the muggles knew the truth…could their two worlds co-exist?
She didn't know, but something told her that things would never go back to the way they were.
Draco was surrounded by darkness.
He felt a stabbing pain in his body that told him he was still alive.
He had no idea where he was or how he came to be there.
He knew he would be dead soon, and memories of Hermione flooded his mind—the way her hands would stroke his face when she kissed him, the way she'd trace the scars along his back…
Then he remembered those same hands, closing around the dagger that had killed his mother.
His vision swam.
She was only defending herself, Draco told himself. You made her stay with you, you should have let her go…
He had no real family now. His mother was dead, and the girl he loved had killed her.
His hands trembled slightly.
Without Hermione nothing made sense. She had stolen his breath, his life, his sense of purpose…it was like someone had ripped out his insides and left him to bleed.
But for some reason he remained alive…
Hour after hour.
Day after day…
Until one night, he heard the sound of a door opening.
A strip of light revealed that he was in a dungeon, in a small, cramped cell.
Draco's breath caught when he heard footsteps approaching.
"Lumos," said a silky voice.
An old wizard emerged, holding his wand aloft.
It was Edevane.
His white hair was tied back into its usual ponytail. He wore his knee-length leather coat, snakeskin shoes, and his ice blue eyes penetrated Draco's grey ones, promising the worst was yet to come.
He walked closer to him, supporting his weight on a golden cane.
The ceiling in the dungeon was so low Edevane had to crouch down to enter it. He produced a chair with his wand, then threw his coat back with a flourish, letting it fall behind him.
Draco watched him sit down.
Edevane had the air of a count arriving unannounced for tea, and Draco felt much like his unwilling host.
As a child Draco had heard stories about him — the only surviving member of the Original Seven—the first group of wizards to take the Dark Mark.
Draco had feared him then, but not anymore.
His mother's last days had been filled with torment and fear because of this man, and all because of his vile obsession with her…
Draco took in Edevane's appearance. He smiled in a twisted sort of way. There were no specks of dirt or blood tainting his clothes, as could be found on Bellatrix, Yaxley or the others. His white hair was combed back meticulously, his body was free of scars, and he had the air of one who was on his way to an extravagant party.
Edevane stared at Draco intently, twirling his wand as if he were about to cast a spell.
Draco met his gaze.
He knew Edevane was not a skilled duelist, the old man relied on his sharp mind and clever schemes to acquire what he wanted. Intelligence, slyness and manipulation. Those were his weapons. He had an appreciation for music and the arts. He enjoyed glittering jewels and lavish feasts. He took comfort in wealth, while Voldemort took comfort in blood and power.
Edevane rapped on the bars of the cell with his cane, interrupting Draco's thoughts.
"Everyone believes you are dead, Mr. Malfoy. Your father…Bellatrix…the Dark Lord himself…they think I've killed you."
It took a few moments for Draco to process this new information.
"I don't understand," he said slowly.
"You were taken to Greymoor and sentenced to death. I was given the task of killing you. You should know, your father fought fiercely to protect you, claiming the mudblood girl had bewitched you. But the Dark Lord knew better, as did I."
Edevane laughed.
"I took you away, while the Dark Lord was called to more important matters. One of my men tortured you, very close to the point of death…and afterwards, I gave you a potion that stilled your breath and slowed your heart. I presented your body to the Dark Lord. He did not bother to look at you too closely. Why would he? After all, what interest would I have in keeping you alive?"
Draco wondered the same thing. Whatever the reason, he knew he would not like it.
"He ordered me to dispose of your body, but instead I brought you here, to my estate." Edevane gestured around him. "You belong to me now." He grinned. "I kept your mother in this cell."
Draco rushed at him but he was yanked back by his bindings.
Edevane clicked his tongue disapprovingly.
"Now, now, Mr. Malfoy," he warned. "There are important matters to discuss."
He leaned back in his chair. "I have seen the future. If the Dark Lord continues on his current path, it will be the ruin of our world. He has gone too far this time, and he underestimates the enemy. It can very well mean the end of wizard-kind."
Draco was suddenly very still. "What do you mean, you've seen the future?"
"I had a vision decades ago, as a student at Hogwarts. I saw what Tom Riddle would become, and how this war would end. But the future is not set in stone. We can change it."
Edevane's face loomed before his."You can change it."
"Me?" Draco asked, bewildered. What do you need me for?"
"You will take your father's place."
Draco looked at him uneasily.
"The Dark Lord uses your family's wealth to support his army, and so he maintains your father at his side—despite your betrayal."
Edevane presented him with a small flask. He took off the cap and waved it under Draco's nose. A familiar smell met Draco's nostrils.
Polyjuice potion.
"The Dark Lord will attack London in a few days' time. When that happens you will drink this potion, and usurp your father's place. You will lead the highest ranking Death Eaters into a trap. I will place you at the proper place, at the proper moment…"
Draco looked at him in disbelief. "You want to see the Dark Lord fall?"
Edevane nodded. "Do not fret, young Draco, there are others working to ensure all goes well." Edevane leaned in conspiratorially. "And I have a secret weapon the Dark Lord knows not of."
Draco sneered at him. "I don't care about your plans."
Edevane's easy manner melted away.
"And what of your mudblood?" Edevane asked, his voice suddenly cold and menacing. "You love her still."
Draco tried to appear indifferent, but he knew Edevane had already seen into his mind.
"If you do not take your father's place, I will kill her myself…and it will be a slow death, one that I will take much pleasure in."
Draco fought the urge to lunge at him again.
He wanted Hermione to be free, despite everything...but before the war was over he would kill Edevane.
Draco looked up at the old wizard. "I'll do it," he said. "I'll help you destroy Voldemort."
Edevane nodded at him. "We have an accord then, Mr. Malfoy."
Hermione crossed the English border and rode through Manchester, Birmingham and Northampton, eventually reaching Watford.
She dismounted her horse in the outskirts of the city.
She looked down at Dolohov's wand.
It was time to relinquish it.
She buried the wand in the ground, drawing a marker over it so she could find it again. She turned to her horse, muttering a spell, and compelled it to hide in the woods.
The nearest motorway was filled with people, and there were queues that went on for miles.
Some muggles were driving, and others were on foot, keeping to one side of the road as they tried to reach the checkpoints.
Armed guards stepped out of booths to check identification cards. They turned many people away, refusing to let them pass through the barriers.
Hermione heard a voice over a loudspeaker. "If you are not a resident of Hertfordshire or London, you will not be permitted to pass—these zones are at capacity—anyone who does not comply will be arrested."
It was almost twenty four hours before Hermione was able to speak with someone.
A short, red-headed guard stepped out of a booth to meet her.
"Name?"
"Hermione Jean Granger."
"Residence?"
"11 Eastmore Drive, Hampstead."
"Why did you leave London?"
"I was away—on government assignment. I wasn't able to return until now."
She made herself stand taller, trying to appear older.
"Identification?"
"Of course," she said.
She handed the fake documents Bill had given her.
The guard returned to his booth.
Hermione's heart pounded heavily, but she kept her face a perfect mask of calm.
The guard stepped out again a moment later, casting a suspicious glance her way.
"There's no record of you attending school since you were eleven. And says here you've been reported missing by your superiors."
Hermione saw him lock eyes with the guard across the way. "Send me Patterson. Hurry."
She blanched, her nerves on edge. Had Bill changed his mind? Why hadn't he changed her status in the system? Maybe something had delayed him…
Her mind worked furiously.
She couldn't apparate past the guards. Voldemort had made that impossible. And even if she had something as useful as Harry's invisibility cloak, she suspected there were sensors all around them. They would pick up her body heat…and the authorities would track her movements immediately.
She couldn't confund the guards either. She knew the place was tapped, and there were cameras everywhere. Government staff were likely listening to their conversation remotely. If the guard granted her access too easily, they'd send someone else to investigate before she could make it through. And then they'd lock her up.
She turned to the red-headed man again. "There has to be a mistake. Check the system again. I'm with domestic intelligence. I was on assignment."
He returned to his booth.
Sweat trickled down Hermione's forehead.
She stood there for several minutes, trying to appear indignant instead of frightened.
"Tell Patterson to hold," the guard told his partner suddenly. He turned to Hermione. "It says here you checked in at Manchester. Is that correct?"
"Yes," she said quickly.
Maybe Bill had done something…
The guard raised the barrier and let her through.
"Follow me, please."
Hermione hurried after him.
He made her pass through a scanner, and when he was satisfied that she carried no weapons, magic or muggle, he motioned for her to walk a bit further.
They passed dozens of small sheds. Hermione guessed they were used to store equipment and weapons.
The guard stopped in front of one of them.
He held the door open for her.
"Inside," he told her.
Hermione saw that it was empty.
She looked at the guard, appalled. "I thought I was free to go."
"You will be, in three hours."
"I don't understand."
The guard seized Hermione's arm and threw her in. "We need to confirm you haven't taken appearance-altering substances."
Hermione's mouth fell open.
Polyjuice potion. The muggles knew about Polyjuice potion.
He raised a camera and there was a loud snap as he took a picture of her.
"If your appearance remains the same, you'll be free to go." He looked down at his watch. "Three hours."
He shut the door in her face.
Hermione didn't move.
Bill was right. The muggles had learned too much. Or maybe they'd investigated the intricacies of the wizarding world for years…
The thought sent a chill down her spine.
The hours ticked by and Hermione tried not to panic in the confined space. There was hardly enough room to sit, and her stomach growled. She hadn't eaten anything in hours.
Eventually the guard returned and opened the door.
She raised a hand to shield her eyes as a strip of sunlight fell across her face.
The guard tugged her arm down.
There was a flash as he snapped a second picture of her, blinding her further.
"You're free to go," he said. "And you'd do well to head home before dark."
She moved past him without a second glance.
It would be a long walk to Harrow, maybe two hours if she hurried, and then she would be in London at last.
It was like Bill and Harry had said. The city was not as she remembered it.
Terror seized Hermione as she went deeper into London.
Two men were hanging in the square in front of her, the word "demon" carved into their chests.
The wizards looked no older than twenty.
The authorities did not cut down the bodies, for fear the mobs would turn on them. Most of Britain's soldiers were away patrolling the border or fighting in the war, which meant there was no one to bring order to the streets of London.
Hermione kept to herself, walking down the cobblestoned path that led to Bellefaire Orphanage.
She has asked several people for directions, but only one man stopped to point out the way.
Hermione recognized the building as it loomed closer, surrounded by its high railings and iron gate.
It felt surreal to walk to a place she'd only seen in someone else's memory.
It had not changed much over the years, and it looked like the orphanage had been evacuated long ago, probably in the wake of Voldemort's first attacks—before the muggles knew how to defend themselves.
The windows were boarded up, and the grey paint was peeling, giving it an overall, grim appearance.
The iron gate was left open, beckoning Hermione inside.
She was not keen to retrace Tom Riddle's footsteps. There was a sinister air about the place, like it was cursed.
Hermione passed through the courtyard and used wandless magic to open the door, making sure the street behind her was empty.
She inhaled clouds of dust when she stepped inside. She covered her mouth with her sleeve, coughing.
It looked like the place had been abandoned in a hurry. Chairs were toppled over and things lay strewn across the floor.
The door banged shut behind her.
Hermione was plunged into darkness, and she reached for the wall, feeling her way along the corridor.
She knocked into a table, then a chair.
Frustrated, she began to rip the boards away from the windows.
Sunlight filtered into the room, and small specks of dust floated towards the ceiling.
Hermione passed old dormitories, classrooms and a dining hall.
She kept walking until she reached a door at the end of the hall.
There was a dilapidated sign hanging on it. It read: Matrons Office.
Hermione pushed it open.
Inside there was a desk, empty bookshelves and a few wooden chairs.
She went into the room next door and saw that the walls were lined with filing cabinets.
Her pulse quickened.
This must be the records office. She had to check the names for every child born in 1945.
She pulled open drawers and found admission registers, ledgers and medical documents.
She searched for hours, but her hopes fell when she saw the files only dated back forty years.
Had someone destroyed the older documents, or were they in another room?
There was a sudden bang.
Hermione froze.
She fled the office and made her way back to the main hall.
"Is someone there?!" she called.
No answer.
She went down the corridor, opening doors and searching rooms.
Maybe it was nothing. Maybe something had fallen—
Her blood ran cold when she heard the swish of a cloak, and then a pair of footsteps behind her.
Hermione spun around.
A hooded figure approached her. "It seems, Ms. Granger, that you have found me at last."