Disclaimer: Anything you recognise belongs to the immeasurable genius of JK Rowling; I just like to borrow them and play with them.
Chapter 39
With a sinking feeling in her stomach and a tight grasp on Severus' hand, Hermione crossed to the fireplace and accepted a pinch of Floo powder from the jar Dumbledore held out.
She looked up at the old man, searching his face for some sign of what was amiss, but he simply shook his head, his eyes dull and sad as he gestured towards the fireplace.
The first thought that crossed her mind was something had happened to Draco, that he had been sent somewhere other than Hogsmeade to carry out another attack for Voldemort as a test. Following that thought came an almost choking fear for her parents' safety.
With a fearful glance at Severus, who was also looking at Dumbledore for an explanation, she released his hand and Flooed through to the Headmaster's office, desperately hoping her fears were unfounded.
The scene that greeted her in the Headmaster's office immediately told her she had been wrong, but any sense of relief was quelled by the expressions of the people before her.
On the couch facing the fire, three of the red-haired Weasleys sat close together. Ginny was curled into the lap of her older brother, Charlie, and Ron was sitting beside them, his hand on his sister's back. All three of looked up at the sound of her entrance, and she took in their tear-stained faces and bloodshot eyes with growing alarm.
A movement caught her eye from across the room, and she looked over to see Harry standing by the far wall, alone. His own eyes were red, too, but his hands were clenched tightly at his sides, his face twisted in a terrible expression of pain and anger. She could almost feel the hatred radiating from him.
"What's happened?" she whispered, cold dread rising up in her before any of them even spoke.
Ron looked at her and tried to answer her question, but then he swallowed and shook his head, clenching his eyes tightly shut.
Ignoring the sound of the Floo behind her, she crossed to the couch and perched on the armrest beside Ron, taking her friend's hands in her own. The only thing that Hermione could think, given Charlie's presence and all of their distraught appearances, was that something had happened to one of the other Weasleys; had Mr or Mrs Weasley, or one of the older boys, gone to Hogsmeade tonight to help the Order? Had one of them been hurt, or worse, killed?
She turned to look at Severus, who had taken the empty armchair at the end of the couch, a frightening look of realisation on his face as he surveyed the room.
"Miss Granger," the Headmaster began, seating himself behind his desk, "Severus, thank you for joining us here at such an early hour. As you have both undoubtedly gathered, something untoward has occurred earlier tonight, and I feel, grave as the news is, keeping it from you will not serve any purpose." Dumbledore paused, looking at Hermione and Severus in turn, before solemnly continuing, "It is my sad duty to inform you that, in addition to Hogsmeade, the servants of Tom Riddle also attacked the Burrow last night."
Hermione heard Snape's sharp intake of breath as she stared at the Headmaster in horrified disbelief. She thought one of the family might have been hurt in Hogsmeade… not attacked at home. And if all of them had been home at the time, who was…
"Who?" she whispered. "Who's… who's been…?"
"Everyone."
The voice, thick and heavy with grief, echoed in the stunned silence of the room, and it took Hermione a moment to realise it had come from Charlie.
Everyone. Hermione swayed slightly on the armrest, and dimly felt Severus rest a hand on her back to steady her. There must be some mistake…
"Ron?" she questioned in disbelief. Surely they couldn't all be… dead? Her friend met her eyes and nodded his head. Finally finding his voice, he managed to whisper hoarsely, "They're gone, Hermione. They're all gone."
"Oh, my…" Hermione voice caught on a sob as the gravity of what had happened hit her, and she stared at Ron as his eyes became brighter and he bowed his head to the tears spilling down his cheeks.
Realising she was still clasping his hands, she pulled him to her, and as she wrapped her arms around him she felt him shaking as his grief overcame him. Her vision blurred as her own tears began to fall, too, and she slid from the armrest down onto the couch beside Ron.
Images of the Weasleys came into her mind; hearty meals at the Burrow, Mr Weasley excitedly escorting her parents around Diagon Alley, hours of fun with Fred and George and their wacky jokes, and getting advice from Mrs Weasley, who had treated her like a second daughter.
None of it would ever happen again.
"They were all at the house, Albus?" she heard Severus question. "Even the twins?"
"They had gone home for dinner, as was their habit once a week or so." The Headmaster's voice seemed to come from a long way off. "The attack happened just before eight, almost simultaneously to the hit on Hogsmeade. We wouldn't have even known something was amiss, but for them not appearing in Hogsmeade with the rest of the Order."
Ron pulled away from Hermione and slumped back on the couch as his brother started speaking.
"I'd just arrived back in the country when I heard news of Hogsmeade at the Ministry," Charlie said in a hollow voice. "I went straight to the town, and then home when I realised Mum and Dad weren't there. They wouldn't have stayed away when people needed help unless… that's when I found…"
"I should have been home, too," the now-oldest Weasley continued in a pained voice. "I missed my Portkey and had to fill out all sorts of bloody forms for the International Floo."
"You couldn't have done anything, Mr Weasley," Severus spoke up. "Had you been there, your brother and sister would have lost you, too."
"I know," said Charlie, as Ginny let out a choked sob and clung more tightly to her older brother.
Severus stood up to pace across the room near the fireplace, exchanging a worried glance with the Headmaster. After a moment, Charlie spoke up, his question directed to the former Potions master. "I take it you're no longer in contact with his lot?'
There was no accusation in his tone, and Severus shook his head.
"No," he sighed. "And for that, I never thought I would be regretful, but had I retained my position until now, I may have been able to bring warning. For failing to do that, I am truly sorry."
"I bet Malfoy knew."
It was the first time Harry had spoken since she and Severus had arrived, and his words were full of barely-disguised hatred.
"Malfoy?" Charlie questioned. "Lucius' little upstart of a son, you mean? The one in your class?"
"Draco Malfoy is working for the Order," the Headmaster said, leaning forwards on his desk and steepling his hands beneath his chin.
At Charlie's startled look, Dumbledore continued, "I can assure you he is above reproach. I have taken measures to ensure his loyalty to us, measures which leave no room for defiance."
Charlie blew out a breath and looked around the room. Hermione nodded when his gaze fell on her, but Harry was scowling at the Headmaster.
"And he's out there tonight?" Charlie asked, looking to Severus this time.
"Yes," Harry spat as Severus opened his mouth to speak. "And I bet he knew all about Hogsmeade and the Burrow. He's always thought himself better than Ron, just as his father has always hated Mr Weasley. How convenient that he couldn't get word to us before it was too late."
Hermione was startled and dismayed by the venom in Harry's words. It was a terrible, terrible thing that had happened, and all of them were distraught, but Harry was misplacing his anger and his blame.
"I would advise you to think before you make such unjustified accusations, Mr Potter," Severus warned in a low voice. "Or do you not recognise the precarious position Mr Malfoy is currently in?"
"The same position you were at Christmas, sir?" Harry returned defiantly. "You didn't let Hermione's parents die, and you wouldn't have let six members of the Order die, either."
"No, I wouldn't," he agreed.
A triumphant smile bloomed on Harry's face, thinking he had proven his point, before Severus spoke up again.
"I wouldn't have let them die, had I known," he emphasised. "Chances are both attacks were purposely kept from Mr Malfoy, and even if he has been in Hogsmeade tonight, he may not have known of the other attack."
"Bullshit," Harry spat.
Severus opened his mouth to respond angrily, but the Headmaster cut in.
"Perhaps we should wait until Mr Malfoy returns before any further speculation is made?" he suggested in a mild voice, though his dark expression gave away his disappointment at Harry's accusations.
Harry scowled and shoved his hands in his pockets, resolutely ignoring both Severus and the Headmaster.
As it turned out, they didn't have to wait long for Malfoy's arrival. Dumbledore and Charlie spoke in quiet voices for a few minutes, discussing arrangements that, while painful, would have to be made in haste. Ron and Ginny still sat silently, and Hermione divided her attention between watching them worriedly and glancing at Severus, who had moved to the windowsill and sat down, lost in his own thoughts and undoubtedly worried for Malfoy.
Suddenly a high-pitched cry rang out, and Fawkes appeared in a burst of flames, alighting on his perch across the room.
Both the Headmaster and Snape stood immediately, and Hermione recalled hearing the phoenix cry like that once before, when Severus had returned from a meeting with Voldemort many months ago. Her eyes widened, realising it signified Malfoy's return.
"Albus," Severus said urgently, turning to the older man, "I don't think it's a good idea for-"
He broke off, though, as the Floo flared and a pale, dishevelled Draco Malfoy stepped into the room.
There was absolute silence for a moment, and Malfoy's expression turned from startled, upon seeing so many people in the room, to one of confusion at the Weasleys' bloodshot eyes.
Before any of them could react, though, Harry launched himself across the room at the Slytherin with a cry of rage.
Malfoy let out a startled exclamation as Harry's fist collided with his jaw, and he stumbled back against the wall next to the mantle.
"You little bastard!" Harry shouted, his voice breaking in his hysteria. "You knew this was going to happen! You knew, and you did nothing. NOTHING!"
After a moment of shocked immobility, Hermione jumped to her feet, her voice joining with the Headmaster's as they called out for Harry to stop.
Severus was quicker than any of them, though, crossing the room quickly and hauling Harry off the other boy by the neck of his robes. No longer able to reach the stunned Head Boy with his punches, Harry turned his rage on Severus, fighting wildly against the hands that held him.
"Let go! Let go of me, you bastard!"
Despite his blind rage, Harry wasn't strong enough to dislodge Severus, and the older man managed to pin both of the his arms behind his back, immobilising him further with his own arm clamped firmly around Harry's midsection.
"Calm yourself, Potter," Severus hissed in Harry's ear. "Such foolishness is not helping anybody."
"He knew!" Harry shouted, still struggling wildly to free himself from the other man's grasp. "He had to know."
"Look at your friends," he said, twisting them both around so Harry was forced to look to the Weasleys on the couch, watching the scene play out with stricken looks. "Look at them. If anyone has cause to be wrongly out for Draco's blood, they do, but even in their grief they can see sense. For Merlin's sake, haven't enough people been hurt tonight?"
As if suddenly giving up, Hermione saw Harry slump dejectedly, then realise he was slumping against his hated former teacher and try to push away.
"Get off me!" he snapped, elbowing Severus hard when the older man didn't release him immediately. "I get it, okay? Everyone else believes the little ferret. Well I don't."
Severus stepped back, then, and Hermione stood from her place beside Ron. She moved past Malfoy, who had managed to compose himself somewhat and was watching them all with a mixture of fear and confusion, rubbing his jaw where Harry had hit him.
"Harry, please," she implored, drawing close enough to take his hand. He yanked it away, but she wasn't deterred. "Severus is right; think about what you're say-"
"Oh, of course Severus is right," he mimicked. "You would believe that, wouldn't you? Well I don't trust either of them."
"Harry." This time, the reproachful voice came from the Headmaster, and Harry turned to the old man, scowling.
"Now is not the time for old grudges, nor unjust accusations," Dumbledore said, gently but firmly. Hermione noticed his gaze move from Harry to Severus for a moment, and then back to the angry young man before him.
"You know the terms of Mr Malfoy's Vow," the Headmaster continued, and he turned to look at the young Slytherin, who was still eyeing Harry warily. "So, Mr Malfoy, bound to me as you are, I must ask you to allay our fears. When did you become aware of the two attacks tonight, Hogsmeade and the Burrow."
"Albus," Severus began, "is there really a need for-"
"The Burrow?" Malfoy paled visibly, his gaze darting to the three Weasleys on the couch. "Isn't that…?"
The Headmaster sighed.
"I take it you were not aware of a second attack tonight? What of Hogsmeade?"
"No, I- uh-" Malfoy faltered, his eyes widening in horror as the cause of the Weasleys' distress – and Harry's anger – dawned on him. "What? Hogsmeade? No, I didn't know until we arrived."
"Draco, you do not have to explain yourself-" Snape began again, but Malfoy cut him off.
"It's all right," He cleared his throat. "It seems they have a right to know."
The Headmaster nodded approvingly, and Malfoy took a deep breath, looking at each of the occupants of the room in turn. Hermione nodded at him encouragingly when his eyes fell on her.
"I learnt what was to happen in Hogsmeade only when we arrived there. I Apparated home from the school gates, as requested, and had dinner with my mother. Then we took a Portkey the Dark Lord had given Father; he didn't even know where it would take us, but we ended up outside Hogsmeade. Other Death Eaters had already… already begun, and Father instructed me to stay close by him, but cast nothing more than defensive spells if I needed to."
Severus looked up sharply at that.
"You were specifically instructed not to participate?"
Malfoy nodded. "I had to… to watch, to 'learn the ways of my comrades', as Father put it. When it was… over…" He cleared his throat and continued after a moment. "We took another Portkey to see him."
No one in the room had to question to whom Draco was referring.
"He looked into my mind to see my reaction to what had happened in Hogsmeade."
The Headmaster inhaled sharply, and Severus strode over to Malfoy, taking him by the shoulders and demanding urgently, "What did he see?"
"Only what I wanted him to see," Malfoy said quietly. "Thanks to your lessons."
Hermione saw the tension drain from Severus' tense posture, and the Headmaster, too, seemed to exhale a breath of relief.
"And you expect us to believe," Harry suddenly spoke up derisively, "that you spent all that time with your father last night and didn't hear a whisper of what happened at the Burrow?"
"It's the truth," Malfoy said simply, returning none of the scorn Harry had afforded him in his tone.
"It's bullshit," Harry spat for the second time that night, and turned to Ron, who looked up at him defeatedly. "You know how much Lucius Malfoy hated your dad. Do you honestly think he would resist a chance to brag about what has happened?"
"It doesn't matter now, Harry," Ron said hollowly. "They'll all still be gone."
Before Harry could speak again, Malfoy said, "If it happened at the same time as Hogsmeade, Father couldn't have been there. You're right on one thing, though, Potter; he wouldn't have been able to resist bragging if he'd known… which means he didn't, and nor did I."
Harry glared at Malfoy, then looked around at everyone else in the room. No one offered a word of support either way, until he looked at Hermione and she said quietly, "It makes sense, Harry."
He nodded, but she could see his fists clenched tightly, and knew better than to think it was a nod of acceptance.
"Fine," he said tightly. "Fine. But you should have known, and it's your fault they're all dead."
With that parting shot, Harry turned and stormed from the Headmaster's office, slamming the door behind him.
Some time later, Hermione found herself wandering the castle in search of her angry friend. Untruthful as it was, Harry's parting shot had hit Malfoy hard, and although the Head Boy was trying hard to control his emotions, Hermione could see he was fighting a losing battle.
Severus, too, had noticed his growing distress. At a nod of approval from the Headmaster, he had taken Malfoy through the Floo to his quarters, where they would be undisturbed until Dumbledore arrived to hear the Slytherin's full account of the night.
After their departure, the Headmaster had suggested the Weasleys move to the Room of Requirement, so they could have some time together without interruptions from the rest of the school. He had warned them he would be cancelling all classes for the day, so not to venture out into the school unless they felt ready to speak with anyone. Neither Charlie, Ron, Ginny nor Hermione protested, and she had the feeling it would be some time indeed before any of them wished to speak about the events of the night.
They found the Room of Requirement filled with comfortable chairs, a steaming pot of tea on the sideboard and a pile of neatly folded handkerchiefs on the table. While Charlie settled on the couch with Ginny, who was still yet to speak a word in Hermione's hearing, Ron pulled Hermione aside and asked her to find Harry, worried he was angry and hurt enough to leave the castle and seek out Voldemort alone.
So Hermione searched all of Harry's usual haunts within the castle, becoming increasingly worried as she found each successive one as silent and empty as the last.
Reaching the Entrance Hall after a second, unsuccessful search of the higher levels of the castle, she eyed the main doors leading out to the grounds. It was almost sunrise, she reasoned from the faint, grey tint on the horizon, visible through the windows either side of the door. It would be safe to venture a short distance from the castle, just to see if her distraught friend had gone outside to clear his head.
Still, she did withdraw her wand, holding it at the ready as she stepped out into the cool, lingering darkness. Not far from the door, she spotted the lone figure of Harry sitting on the low stone wall surrounding the courtyard. Hermione joined him hesitantly, and his only acknowledgement of her presence as she sat beside him was a slight drooping of his shoulders.
They sat in silence for a while, both gazing off into the darkness, tinted grey now with the approaching dawn.
"He's never going to stop until I kill him, is he?"
Hermione looked down at her hands; she had no answer for Harry – none that he wanted to hear – and she didn't trust her voice to remain steady, whatever she might have said.
"The longer I wait to confront him, the more people he's going to kill to lure me into action."
"Harry, they weren't… they might not have been killed for their closeness to you," she said softly.
"Oh, open your eyes, Hermione," he snapped, but then his shoulders seemed to sag and he went on more quietly, "Voldemort knew to hit me where it would hurt the most. They were the closest thing to a family I've ever had, and he knew it. If it wasn't for me… if I hadn't become so close to them…"
"No," she said firmly, reaching out to grasp one of his hands in her own. His voice had taken on the same tone Severus' did when he shouldered the blame for anything Voldemort had forced him to do, and the bleakness of it frightened her.
"That's not true, Harry," she continued. "Yes, Voldemort knew it would hurt you, but it was a strategic move as much as anything else. The Weasleys are… were… in the Order; their whole family stands against everything Voldemort wants for the wizarding world. They're a threat to him, and that is why they were targeted. It's not your fault."
He didn't answer, but he didn't argue, at least. After a few minutes of silence, he changed the subject slightly.
"So, what did Malfoy see in Hogsmeade last night?"
"I don't know."
"I thought Snape would have told you."
"I haven't spoken to Severus yet. After you left, he took Malfoy down to his quarters, and Professor Dumbledore suggested Ron, Ginny and Charlie go to the Room of Requirement so they could be together without any interruptions. I went with them, and then came out here looking for you. I think the Headmaster was going to talk to Malfoy when we left; he's probably doing that now."
Harry didn't comment, and Hermione took a deep breath.
"Harry, you know he couldn't lie to Dumbledore," she said quietly. "You know how the Vow works, and saw his surprise when he arrived to see all of us there. He truly had no idea."
"I know," Harry sighed, and Hermione looked at him, startled. She had been expecting an argument, or at the very least, a derisive remark.
"I was just so angry at everything and everyone – myself for the Weasleys being too dear to me, Dumbledore for refusing to act before now; I wanted to hurt someone, and I couldn't reach Voldemort, so I lashed out at him instead. It seems so unfair he returned unscathed when so many… died."
"Physically unscathed, maybe," Hermione said. "I don't know what he's seen or done tonight, but if he was in Hogsmeade, I don't think he'll ever be able to forget it."
Harry sighed again.
"I just wish someone had known."
"So do I, Harry," she said. "So do I."
"I feel like I've lost my own family all over again, only this time I'll remember what I've lost; I can only imagine how Ron and Ginny feel."
"And Charlie," Hermione added softly. "Everything is on his shoulders; he's the oldest now. It's so lucky he missed his Portkey."
Harry murmured in agreement.
"How far does it have to go, though?" he mused. "Even now, Dumbledore won't act… won't let me do what he knows I have to do, in the end."
"Have you considered that is exactly what Voldemort wants, Harry?" she asked.
His face darkened, but she pressed on, counting on him hearing what she had to say, even if he didn't want to.
"He's trying to lure you out before you're really prepared to face him."
"I'll never be prepared," he said bitterly.
"You will," she said, quietly but firmly, "but not now. Look at yourself, Harry; you're an emotional wreck – angry, vengeful – and your closest friends aren't any better. The whole Order will be mourning their loss. Voldemort knows, after the Department of Mysteries, if he makes you angry enough or threatens those you care about, you'll run straight to him, straight into a trap. Are you going to do exactly what he wants?"
"If we wait, though, he'll only keep on killing."
"Maybe not," Hermione reasoned. "It will confuse him. Think about it – there is no place he could destroy, no people he could kill, to hurt you more than he has tonight. If this wasn't enough for you to snap and march blindly into a fight, he'll think nothing is."
"But it is enough!" Harry said.
"I know," she said quickly. "God, Harry, I want to go out there and kill him myself for what he's done, but we have to let him think it hasn't provoked us."
Harry didn't answer, but Hermione could see him thinking on her words, staring out across the grounds with a furrowed brow.
"Please, Harry," she implored after some minutes of silence. "Please don't rush into this. We've lost enough already. Wait a little longer, so we can go out there with a plan, with the Order standing behind you. Please."
Again, there was silence, but Hermione watched as a myriad of emotions crossed Harry's face. The dark anger turned to uncertainty, then fear, and finally, he set his jaw and looked at her with a calm but stony resolve.
"I'll wait," he said. "But not for long. I'm the one who has to do this, not Dumbledore – in his eyes, I don't think I'll ever be ready… and maybe I won't – but I'm going to give it everything I've got."
Hermione squeezed his hand again.
"We'll be right there with you, Harry, if you just promise not to do anything stupid, like run off to face him alone."
He shook his head.
"I won't… as tempting as it is. I just want this to be over, but you're right; we all need to go into this as prepared as we possibly can be, else I don't know if we'll ever… I'll ever be able to-"
"You will."
Hermione was surprised, a moment later, when Harry huffed out a short laugh and put his arm around her, hugging her briefly.
"I'm glad someone can still be optimistic. I find it hard most of the time… all of the time."
She gave him a small smile. "Come on, let's go inside. Ron will be wanting to know I've found you."
On their way up to the Room of Requirement, they turned, startled by the sudden sound of wings beating along the deserted corridor. A large barn owl dropped a roll of parchment, and Harry caught it as the bird swooped over them and flew back the way it came without waiting for payment or a reply.
Hermione looked on as Harry unravelled the thick wad of parchment, and they both inhaled sharply as they realised it was the Daily Prophet.
"Isn't it too early for that?" Hermione asked.
"No, look." Harry pointed to the writing under the main title, which proclaimed 'Special Early Edition'.
"Maybe we shouldn't look," she said nervously as Harry unrolled the parchment further. He hesitated and met her eyes apprehensively.
Looking around the corridor, he pulled Hermione into an alcove behind a knight.
"I need to know," he said seriously. "It's not going to be pleasant, but we're going to have to face it sooner or later. Together?"
She nodded, and they stood side by side and unfolded the parchment completely. Hermione bit her lip to hold back a cry at the photograph adorning the front page, but she needn't have suppressed it, since Harry let out a sharp gasp of his own.
Hermione blinked quickly to clear her vision of fresh tears as they looked at the moving picture of what had once been the main street of Hogsmeade. Some portions of buildings were still recognisable – the gable of The Three Broomsticks, the caricature-like frontage of Zonko's – but everything that wasn't already in ruins was burning, thick black smoke filling the top of the photo.
Turning her eyes to the accompanying article, Hermione read: HOGSMEADE RAZED, FAMILY MURDERED. In a smaller subheading below, the paper went on to say, 'No witch or wizard is safe: town burnt to the ground and pureblood family murdered in two separate attacks'.
Pulling out her wand, she cast a soft 'Lumos' to light the alcove, and they both read the article.
Last night, the town of Hogsmeade was brought to its knees by the second Death Eater attack in as many years. Three people were killed and dozens injured last April when servants of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named launched a daring daylight attack on the town during a weekend excursion for the students of the nearby Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
This year, on the eve of Beltane, the festival of purity, Death Eaters struck again, this time leaving no building standing and killing anyone who stayed to try to defend their property. Casualties have not yet been confirmed, but the number is expected to rise close to one hundred. No distinction was made between pureblood, half-blood or Muggleborn as the Dark servants burned much of the town to the ground.
Ministry Aurors were on the scene within half an hour, but their efforts to capture the criminals or save any of the town were hampered by complex wards and cloaking spells the Death Eaters had erected around the town. Two servants of You-Know-Who were captured and have been taken to the Ministry for interrogation.
In a separate attack which is bound to shock and outrage the wizarding community even further, reports are coming in of the callous murder of six members of a well-loved pureblood family. Arthur and Molly Weasley, along with four of their seven children – William, Percy, Fred and George – were murdered last night in their home, almost at the same time as the main contingent of Death Eaters struck Hogsmeade. Close acquaintances of the Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter, and known for advocating wizard-Muggle relations, it seems the Weasley family was marked as enemies of You-Know-Who, regardless of their established bloodline.
These two attacks leave little doubt as to You-Know-Who's intentions for the wizarding world, and one has to ask what the Ministry can do to keep the public safe against such brutal and unpredictable acts of terror. Perhaps it is time to turn our eyes to Albus Dumbledore, the man who defeated the last Dark wizard to threaten our way of life, Grindelwald. Can the aging Headmaster of Hogwarts and his young protégé, the one and only Harry Potter, succeed where all others have failed and defeat You-Know-Who for good?
The Daily Prophet wishes to offer condolences to all those affected by these terrible acts. A full list of Hogsmeade casualties will be made available as soon as possible, in the later edition of today's publication.
The Weasley name will be carried on by Molly and Arthur's surviving children, Charles, Ronald and Ginevra.
Page 4: Ministry spokesperson says, "No warning at all."
Page 10: How to defeat a Dark wizard: Albus Dumbledore and GrindelwaldHermione swallowed thickly as Harry lowered the parchment and leant heavily against the wall with his eyes closed.
"See?" he said hoarsely. "It all comes down to me."
"I think you should take this to the Headmaster," Hermione finally said, finding herself unable to say anything to contradict Harry's statement. Whichever way they looked at it, and whoever stood by him, the future of the entire wizarding world was squarely on his shoulders.
Harry didn't seem to have heard her, and she shook his arm gently.
"Harry, come on, think about it," she said. "Whoever sent you that paper wants to upset you; go and talk to Professor Dumbledore about it before you start worrying about things beyond your control."
He nodded, but as the stepped out of the alcove and Harry started down the corridor towards the stairs and Dumbledore's office, an unpleasant thought hit Hermione.
"Aren't you coming?" Harry was a short distance down the corridor already, waiting for her to catch up.
"Uh, no," she said. "I'm going to check on the others and make sure no one has sent them a copy of the Prophet."
Harry paled, and then nodded. "They'll have to see it sooner or later, too."
"I know." She grimaced. "But not now."
They parted ways and Hermione managed to make her way to the Room of Requirement without running into any students or teachers; it was still early, and after the fear and confusion of the previous night, she guessed many of the students wouldn't be rousing for a while yet. The door to the hidden room appeared as she drew near, and she took a deep breath before slipping quietly into the room.
Charlie was sitting on a comfortable blue couch, with Ginny clinging to him much as she had in the Headmaster's office. The older Weasley turned to look towards the door as Hermione closed it behind her. Ginny face was buried in the front of his shirt, and Charlie's face was dull and closed, as though he couldn't possibly express the sorrow he was feeling at the loss of most of his family.
Ron was sitting nearby, in an armchair, but he rose and came over to her before anyone spoke.
"Did you find Harry?" he asked in a low voice. He, too, had stopped crying, but his eyes were still red and puffy.
"Yes, he's a bit calmer now; he's gone to talk with Professor Dumbledore."
Ron nodded, seemingly relieved there was one less thing to worry about.
"How are you?" she said after a moment, immediately cursing the stupidity of such a question. What else could she say, though?
Understanding her apologetic expression, though, he smiled bitterly. "It just doesn't seem real… that they're-" he raised a shaking hand to rub his eyes for a moment "-that they're gone."
Shaking her head, Hermione drew him back to sit in the armchair again, taking the one opposite and nodding as Charlie signalled for them to talk quietly so as not to disturb Ginny.
"She's finally fallen asleep," he said softly, "though she'll wake up if I try to move. I think she's scared if I let go, I might be gone, too."
Hermione nodded sympathetically.
"I'll have to extricate myself soon. Minerva-" he huffed out a tired, half-hearted laugh "-it's still strange calling her that – is going with me to the Ministry so I can… can identi… make things official," he finally managed.
"I'll stay with Ginny," Ron said.
"So will I, if you like," Hermione offered, and both red-haired men nodded gratefully.
It wasn't long after that McGonagall appeared, her own eyes still red as she looked at them with pity.
"All classes have been cancelled for the day," she said, only a fraction of her usual business-like manner remaining. "You three, plus Mr Potter, of course, are exempted for as long as you need. I imagine schoolwork will not seem a priority any longer, though I hope young Miss Weasley finds it in her heart to continue on when she is able."
"It might take a while, but she will," Charlie spoke up. "I'll make sure she does; it's what Mum and Dad would have wanted."
As he spoke, he gently pulled Ginny's arms from around his midsection, stood up and set her down on the couch. She whimpered, and Ron got up from the armchair to take his brother's place, tucking an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close against him.
Her eyelids fluttered, but she didn't wake.
Charlie, satisfied that she would sleep on for a while longer, laid a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Look after her, little brother," he said quietly. "She's all we have, now."
Hermione's eyes filled with tears at the stark truth the oldest Weasley had spoken, and she saw McGonagall was blinking quickly as she waited by the door.
Clearing his throat, Charlie walked over to Hermione and put his hand on her shoulder briefly.
"Thank you for staying with them, Hermione," he said.
She nodded. "I'm so sorry, Charlie."
He smiled sadly and left with McGonagall.
Hermione sat sideways on the couch, her back against the armrest on the opposite side of Ron from Ginny. His hand was rubbing his sister's back almost unconsciously, and he was staring unseeing across the room. Every so often, as Hermione watched, a single tear welled at the corner of his eye and trailed down his cheek to form a small, wet patch on his shirt. He made no attempt to wipe them away.
Reaching out to him, Hermione laid her hand gently on his back, between his shoulder blades.
"I hate this silence," he said after some minutes. "It's making me think too much."
"Do you want me to talk?" Hermione asked. "I could if it would help… though I don't know what to say."
She was saved from having to make conversation, though, when the door opened again and Harry stepped into the room. A quick glance at his hands told Hermione he must have left the Prophet with the Headmaster.
He crossed the room silently and sat down in the empty armchair, his gaze lingering on Ginny's sleeping form for a moment.
"What did Dumbledore say?" Ron asked, glad to have something else to focus on for a moment, but Harry shook his head.
"This isn't the time to talk about it," he said. "For now, just let me say he'll pay for what he's done – Voldemort will. I swear that."
Hermione and Ron exchanged slightly frightened glances at the absolute calm in Harry's tone, but were distracted from having to answer when Ginny woke, sitting up suddenly and staring around in confusion.
She looked at each of them in turn, and then sighed, rubbing her face tiredly with her hands.
"I thought maybe if I went to sleep, when I woke up it would have all gone away." She looked at her brother with a pleading expression on her face. "It's real, isn't it?"
Ron nodded, and she lowered her head only to look up again quickly.
"Where's Charlie?"
There was a panicked note in her voice.
"He's with Professor McGonagall," Ron said. "They're just sorting out some things."
"What things?"
Ron looked away, and Ginny turned to Hermione for an answer.
"Arrangements," she finally said.
Realisation dawned on Ginny's face, and with it came more tears.
"The b- b- burial," she sobbed. "Oh, Ron, how are we going to get through this?"
Hermione looked on as Ron pulled Ginny against him again, hugging her tightly. His face was a mask of anguish as he said, "We'll manage, Gin."
It was clear he didn't believe what he was saying, and he added softly, "We'll have to."
Turning to Harry, Hermione saw an agonized expression on his face, too, and realised he was probably being reminded of his own parents. He'd never been able to attend their funeral – he had been too young to remember, anyway, but they had been buried in the wizarding world, near their home, and Harry's aunt and uncle had wanted no part in the matter. Though Harry had barely known his parents when they died, he hadn't been able to say goodbye.
Ron, Ginny and Charlie would have that, at least.
Some time later, Charlie returned alone, and stood silently for a moment after closing the door behind him. Hermione stood up, beckoning Harry to follow her, and they stepped away from the others as Charlie crossed the room and sank onto the couch beside his siblings.
Watching from across the room as the three of them hugged each other and Charlie finally broke down and cried, a sudden image came into Hermione's mind of the Weasleys on holiday in Egypt almost five years ago. The realisation that these three broken young people were all that was left of the once exuberant, fun-loving family almost winded her, and she gasped audibly, earning Harry's attention.
"Hermione?" he asked questioningly, his gaze darting from her back to the three Weasleys.
"I think we should go," she managed to say. "They need time alone."
He nodded in agreement, and they slipped quietly out of the room, leaving the others to grieve in peace.
They wandered aimlessly through the corridors for some time, but there were students about now, and Harry seemed to loathe to be confronted by any of them. More than once, he turned abruptly in another direction if he spotted someone heading towards them.
Eventually, he sighed and said, "Will you be all right if I leave you for a while? I think I just need some time, too… you know?"
She nodded and tried to smile.
"I'll be fine," she assured him. "I wish I could sleep – I'm so tired – but I don't think that's likely to happen soon. Besides, there's something I think I should do first."
Harry eyed her speculatively, correcting interpreting her words.
"Will you see Malfoy?"
"I don't know. I expect he might be there."
She watched her friend as he eyed the ground between them for a moment, and then looked up again, his jaw set.
"If you do see him... could you tell him I was wrong?"
Hermione tried and failed to hide her surprise, but then nodded. He wasn't asking her to apologise – she doubted he would ever go so far as that – but admitting he had jumped to the wrong conclusion was a significant step.
They parted with a quick hug, and on the way down to the first floor, Hermione stopped and turned at the sound of someone calling her name.
Susan Bones hurried along the corridor towards her, a fearful look on her freckled face. When the Hufflepuff reached her, Hermione was surprised to find herself suddenly being tightly hugged.
"Oh, Hermione," she said. "We all heard the news at breakfast. Poor Ron and Ginny. Hogsmeade is terrible, but their whole family! I can't believe it!"
"I wish it wasn't true," Hermione replied as the other girl released her.
"Oh, but tell Ron and Ginny we're thinking of them, will you?" she went on, and Hermione nodded. "And you, too, of course. You were so close to them all."
"Thanks, Susan," she said, managing to leave the other girl behind after another hug and a reassurance that 'we're all there for you if you need anything'.
Hermione was stopped half a dozen more times by classmates before she finally reached the first floor corridor, and by that time she felt like crawling into an alcove and crying again. The enquires and condolences for her friends and herself were genuine, and she knew her classmates all meant well. Everyone knew she was close to the whole family – the knitted jumper she wore every Christmas was proof enough of that – but hearing the same sympathetic words from every person she passed was wearing her down.
Finally stopping outside the door to the hidden passage and Severus' quarters, she paused for a moment and leant against the opposite wall to gather her thoughts and calm her roiling emotions.
"Having a bad day, dearie?"
She looked up, startled, to find the portrait of Ignatia Wildsmith regarding her with a frown; never, in all her visits to this corridor and through the nearby door, had the little witch spoken.
"You could say that," she sighed.
"It's early yet, and there's plenty of time for it to get worse."
The witch smiled nastily at her stunned expression, and she scowled at the portrait, pulled out her wand and entered the hidden corridor.
Snape wasn't sure how long he'd been staring at the photograph adorning the front page of the Prophet – already the second edition for the day despite it not even being eleven o'clock. A grave-faced Dumbledore had brought the newspaper to him a short time ago and then left to attend to other matters.
On the couch opposite the armchair where he sat, Draco was stretched out, finally and thankfully asleep after reliving the events of the night twice, first to him and then again to the Headmaster in even greater, horrific detail.
He supposed he should be thankful the boy hadn't been forced to kill with his own hand, but it was little consolation. Still, after seeing Draco break down as he described trying to maintain an impassive expression while his father used a hex to slit an old man's throat, Snape would take any consolation offered.
The sound of the door opening behind him roused him from his thoughts, and he glanced around to see Hermione standing just inside the room.
He stood and raised a finger to his lips in a gesture of silence. She looked beyond him, focusing on the still form of Draco for a moment, and then nodded.
Folding the parchment of the Prophet, Snape beckoned for her to follow him into the bedroom so they could talk without disturbing the sleeping Slytherin.
Snape closed the door quietly after ushering her in ahead of him, and he turned back to regard her, taking in the dark circles under her eyes and her pale, blotchy cheeks.
She didn't quite meet his eyes, and then he saw her gaze drift to the Prophet, still in his hand. Albus had told him both she and Harry had already seen the earlier edition, but that didn't stop Hermione's eyes from filling with tears at the sight of it.
Cursing himself silently, he set it aside, out of her line of sight, and took her chin gently in one hand, tilting her head up so she would meet his eyes.
She did, and the concern he was unable to keep from showing on his face was all it took for her composure to crumble; she bowed her head as the tears started spilling down her cheeks.
"Oh, Hermione," he murmured, pulling her tightly against his body. She clung to him as the torrent of emotions finally came flooding out; it was to be expected, especially if she'd been holding herself together all morning as she had earlier in Albus' office, when they first received the news.
Hating the feeling of helplessness that came with the knowledge he could do nothing to ease her pain, he held her until her tears subsided, and she slumped against him, exhausted from the shock and distress of the last twelve hours.
Still supporting her, he led her the half-dozen steps to the chair in front of the window and sat down, pulling her with him to sit sideways across his lap.
He purposely sat so she was facing away from the window; although it had been hours since the Hogsmeade attack, small plumes of smoke could still be seen rising beyond the Forbidden Forest.
She leant against him in silence for a while, an occasional tear still escaping her eyes and dampening the collar of his shirt.
"I'm so sick of crying," she whispered hoarsely after a while. "My throat hurts and my eyes hurt, and I have a terrible headache, but every time I think I've managed to pull myself together, something happens that reminds me of… of them, or someone asks me how I am, and it starts all over again."
She rubbed her eyes and went on tearfully, "Anyone would think I'm the one who's lost my family."
Snape was silent for a moment, combing his fingers through her hair, which was tangled and snagged, probably not having seen a brush for a day.
"You were very close to them," he said carefully. "And even as Mr and Miss Weasley's friend, people will be concerned for you as well as them."
"I know… I just…" She wiped her eyes again and sat up a little to look at him. "I just feel so helpless."
"As do we all in these times," he said honestly. "But I would not underestimate the support you've given your friends today."
"I haven't been able to do anything, though," she said, leaning against him again. "Ron just sits there, numb – I seem to have cried more than he has – and Ginny just clings to Charlie. She was terrified when she woke up and found him gone for a while this morning. And Charlie himself… I don't even know him that well, but he seems just to be holding it together for the sake of the others. I can't do anything that might offer them comfort, and what am I supposed to say? I'm sorry?" She shook her head helplessly.
"Everyone handles grief in different ways," he reminded her. "Just being with them is enough. Where are they now?"
"The Room of Requirement. Harry and I left when Charlie came back from the Ministry; they needed some time just as a family… what's left of one," she finished quietly.
Snape nodded understandingly, choosing to ignore her last words. She seemed to calm slightly with questions, almost as though she could stick to the facts and detach herself from the situation a bit.
"And what of Potter?"
"He's someone I think I have been able to help," she said. "I found him outside after he stormed out earlier, and we had a long talk. I told him how frightened I was that he would do something stupid – play right into Voldemort's hands. I said he needs to wait, let Voldemort think he hasn't been provoked, and then strike on our terms – Harry's terms – with us behind him.
Snape found himself impressed with her logic, especially in such circumstances; he, too, had been hoping Potter's questionable impulse control would not lead them all into a confrontation with Voldemort, unprepared and undermanned.
"And did he listen to reason?" Snape asked.
Hermione nodded. "He's still angry and hurt, and he doesn't want to wait much longer, but yes, he listened."
"That's something, then," he murmured, releasing a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.
"He also asked me to apologise to Malfoy if I saw him."
Snape raised an eyebrow, and Hermione actually gave him a small smile.
"That was my reaction at first, too," she said. "He knows he was wrong – he just didn't think, and can you blame him, after the news he had just received?"
Snape didn't comment, but he was nonetheless pleased. It was one less argument to be resolved.
"How is Draco?" Hermione asked.
"Exhausted." Snape sighed, closing his own eyes for a moment. Despite having slept for a few hours between news of the two attacks, he felt as though he'd been awake for days on end.
"At least he's asleep," she said softly.
"Not naturally," he corrected. "Against my better judgement, I've given him a dose of Dreamless Sleep. He needs rest before he will be able to control his emotions sufficiently to go out into the rest of the school."
"I can't even imagine what he's been through," she murmured.
"He performed admirably, given what he had to face. It is not my place to tell anyone – even you – what he witnessed, but suffice to say he successfully convinced both his father and the Dark Lord that he supported the activities of the night."
Hermione swallowed. "That must have taken more courage than I could ever muster."
"Yes," Snape said. "He has certainly changed this year. I'm very proud of him."
He had done what he could to prepare Draco to face Voldemort, but until the boy was standing before the tyrant, there was no telling how he would perform. Controlling his emotions in a comfortable, private lesson was one thing; doing so while standing before Voldemort, after having witnessed a mass killing spree, was entirely another thing. Snape had feared Draco would not be able to convince the Dark Lord of his false loyalty, and it was with a sense of relief – albeit mingled with sorrow for the other event of the night – that he had welcomed the boy's return to Hogwarts.
"Have you read the paper?" Hermione asked after a long silence.
It seemed an innocuous question, but Snape knew better. She'd seen him with the Prophet, and there was an odd tone in her voice as she spoke.
"Not all of it," he admitted. "I've avoided the casualties list thus far, though Albus spoke of it a little when he came down earlier."
"How bad is it?"
He sighed. She would know sooner or later, he supposed.
"Sixty-two confirmed deaths in Hogsmeade, though that is expected to rise."
"God," she whispered.
Then, after a beat, "Can I see the list?"
"I don't think that's a good idea, Hermione," he admonished.
"Please?" she asked, sitting up again. "I think… I know it's going to be bad, but I think I'd rather know the facts than speculate about it."
He traced a finger around his lips, considering her request. He couldn't stop her from seeing the Prophet eventually, of course, and she did have a point. Facts, as gruesome at they might be, were often less disturbing that one's own imagination.
"If you're sure," he finally said. "Come back into the other room, though. I should keep an eye on Draco; even with such a powerful sleeping potion, particularly vivid dreams can still break through."
They returned to the sitting room, Snape retrieving the newspaper on the way. Draco was still asleep, and so he returned to the armchair where he'd been sitting when Hermione arrived. Frowning in thought for a moment, he withdrew his wand from a pocket and muttered a spell to widen the chair slightly. It wasn't that he minded her sitting in his lap, but now wasn't really the time or place, not with Draco present.
Satisfied, he sat down and beckoned for her to join him, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as she snuggled close to his side.
Hesitating once more, the Prophet still rolled up in one hand, he asked, "Are you sure?"
She nodded, and he unfurled the parchment, holding it up so both of them could see it.
The front page was similar to that of the earlier edition, according to Hermione, and he had already read it in any case. They turned over to page three, which had the current list of known casualties, tiny pictures beside most of the names.
Hermione traced a finger over each photograph as she softly spoke the person's name.
"I know so many of them," she said quietly, her voice thick with tears again.
He murmured a word of agreement; many were familiar faces for him, too. The barman at the Three Broomsticks, the tailor from Gladrags, three members of the Scrivenshaft family, makers of some of the finest quills in the country… none of them he would call friends, but all had been long-time acquaintances, having lived so close to the wizarding town for almost twenty years.
Near the bottom of the page, Snape spotted the name and picture of the old apothecarist, and beside it, as Hermione's hand moved across the page…
"I recognise her," Hermione said. "Who is she?"
Snape swallowed, trying to dislodge the sudden lump that had grown in his throat.
"The apothecarist's niece," he finally said. "She works- worked… in the shop with him."
"Ah, that's right." Hermione seemed not to notice the odd tone in his voice, and she went on to the next page and another row of pictures.
Snape's eyes lingered on the witch at the bottom of the page for a moment before he resolutely turned his gaze away, unwilling to examine the strange feeling that had come over him upon seeing her name and face on that list. Instead, he stared across the room, keeping his mind and face carefully blank as Hermione continued to softly read out the names of all those lost.
Last on the list were the six Weasleys, the happy faces of their photographs a stark contrast to the emotions seeing those pictures brought on in Hermione. Her finger tracing the face of each red-haired person in turn, before she brought her hands to her own face and broke down again.
Snape took the opportunity to take the Prophet from her hands, folding it and placing it on the floor by his side of the chair. The back page, which she had yet to see, contained a large photograph of the Burrow some time after the attack. The ruins of the familiar building, and the accompanying article giving more details on the attack, wasn't something he wished her to see… not yet.
"I hadn't finished reading that," she finally said, wiping her eyes and looking around for the paper.
He sighed.
"I think that's enough, for now.
"Why?" she protested. "I know what's happened. Nothing can be worse than seeing all those pictures and realising the people in them no longer exist."
"Please, Hermione," he said. "No more today; it's already been far too trying. It's only early, but do you think you can sleep for a while? Unless you wish to go back to your friends?"
She shook her head.
"I think they need today together as a family… what's left of it, and Harry needs some time, too. I'll stay here, but I don't think I could sleep."
Snape took her chin in his hand, appraising the dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes.
"You're almost as exhausted as Draco," he said finally. "You know I don't normally condone it, but perhaps a small dose of Dreamless Sleep might also help you."
She looked uncertain for a moment, but then nodded gratefully.
"Not too much, though," she said. "I don't want to sleep for too long in case anyone needs me, but it might help with my headache."
"I'll give you something for that, too," he said, standing up and going to the lab to retrieve the potions. A glance at Draco as he passed showed that the boy was still sleeping peacefully… for now.
When he came back into the sitting room, Hermione had retrieved the paper from the floor beside the chair, and was reading the back page, tears streaming down her face.
He cleared his throat, cursing himself for not taking it with him, and she gasped out a sob, meeting his gaze guiltily.
"I'm sorry. I had to know."
Setting the phials carefully on the coffee table, he sat down beside them, facing her.
"And are you glad you know?"
She shook her head.
He sighed and stood up, taking the parchment from her hands and setting it aside for the second time. Picking up the phials again, he extended his free hand to her.
"Come on, let's get you to bed for a while."
She rose to her feet listlessly and allowed him to lead her into the other room. After giving her the phial of headache potion, he helped her out of her shoes, jeans and shirt. He crossed the room to draw the curtains closed as she shrugged out of her bra, but left her singlet top on, and climbed into bed.
Returning to her side, he sat on the edge of the bed and held out the second phial to her. She took it from him, but didn't drink it immediately. After a moment, she shifted forwards and wrapped her arms around him at an awkward angle, resting her head sideways on his shoulder.
"Severus, what's going to happen now?" she whispered.
Snape turned so he could embrace her properly, rubbing one hand slowly up and down her back. He was silent for some time, knowing what her question meant but unsure how to answer. As much as he wanted to offer false niceties to relieve her troubled mind, he found it impossible to give her anything but the truth.
"I think," he said finally, "this is the beginning of the end."
She let out a small sob, and he held her more tightly, pressing his lips to the crown of her head.
Snape drew back after a moment, gesturing to the phial still clenched in her hand, and she wiped her eyes before unstoppering it and drinking the contents quickly.
Taking the empty phial from her as she settled back into the pillows, sleep already starting to take hold, he brushed her hair back from her face, his hand lingering on her tear-stained cheek for a moment.
She was already asleep, and so when he stood up, he murmured to himself, "We'll just have to make sure it ends well."
To be continued
A/N: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter! Some of you speculated that it was the Weasleys who had met their end – well done!
Many, many thanks to my wonderful beta, Potion Mistress, who literally drops everything to work on this story and get each chapter back to me in record time… well, except for that time I loaned Snape to her for the weekend…
