Sept 26, 1998, 17:15
(One hour earlier)
"What do you mean she's not here?" She snapped at Harry.
"Blimey Mione, I'm trying to tell you! She got an owl, and said you had written her to change your meeting place for today, and something about using the floo. Hang on, I think she left the note." He turned this way and that before bending to peer under the table. "There it is. Accio parchment!" It flew to his hand and he shoved it towards his frazzled friend.
Quickly scanning the page, she exclaimed, "This is my handwriting!" She held it up to Harry's face. "I did NOT write this, Harry. How long ago did she leave?"
"Can't have been more than five minutes," he said to the back of Hermione's robes as she rushed out the way she came. Not knowing whether to follow or stay put, Harry lingered before deciding he better accompany his friend, who seemed unusually off-balance. He pushed his way out the kitchen door. "Hermione! Wait, I'll come with you" he shouted to a now empty foyer. Realising she was already gone, the whole situation seemed to finally catch up with him. Bloody hell, someone impersonated Hermione. And the person who sent the owl could speak of Grimmauld place. Heart sinking. We have a mole. Even as the weight of the realisation settled on his shoulders, tingles shot up his legs that he hadn't felt since realising he had to die in order to kill Voldermort. Fuck. Turning around, he pulled the wards of Grimmauld place to him and revoked access to all magical signatures except Hermione and the Headmistress. Sliding down the wall, he put his head in his hands and choked out a sob. Keep it together. Remember, one thing at a time. Right. Breathing slowly in and out, after what seemed like an eternity, but was actually only three minutes, Harry got up and summoned Kreacher.
After exiting Grimmauld place, Hermione turned on the spot as she thought of her childhood bedroom. Nothing. Ok, something further then. Thinking of the park down the road where she used to read under the willow. UGH! There must be an apparition net in place. Apparating instead to the Leaky Cauldron, she strode directly to the public floo. Grabbing a pinch of powder from her satchel, she threw it in flames and clearly yet quietly stated, "Granger residence, Hampstead," and stepped forward. The flames extinguished at once. The floo is blocked. Think, Hermione, think!
"You alright there, Hermione? You're looking a little peaky. Want a drink? On the house a'course." Tom called after her.
"Uh, maybe later, Tom, thank you. Hey, was Professor McGonagall in here recently by chance?"
"Yeah, she was actually and you know, funny, she asked me if you had just been in as well." He chuckled. "Having one of those 'ships passing in the night' kind of moments, are ya?"
"Something like that." I wish. "Ok then, I'll catch you later. Thanks, Tom."
Exiting the bar into Diagon Alley, Hermione moved to a corner of the courtyard that was thankfully absent of other wizarding folk. Casting a muffliato and disillusionment charms to avoid being noticed, she sat heavily on a cold stone bench. Her left hand, still clenched in a fist in her robe pocket, brushed against the parchment she had absently shoved there in her speedy escape. Taking it out, she inspected it, eyes scanning the small, neatly written script in what appeared to be her preferred brown walnut ink.
M- Change of plans, meet me where we first met. Use the floo. -H
It was as if she had penned it herself, even down to the distinctive Japanese paper she purchased in her favourite muggle stationery shop in London and reserved for special correspondences. Someone went to an incredible effort to create this. Of course they did, if they wanted to convince a discerning witch like Minerva McGonagall. A terrible sense of foreboding poured down from her scalp as the words started to blur through unshed tears. Come on, Hermione! Not now, pull yourself together. Folding and returning the note to her pocket, she closed her eyes and began taking deep breaths as she set about her practice of recentering. Visualising her inner school, she walked through the arched doorway to the table in the centre and leaned upon the surface. This was her sanctuary. The heavy wooden table that extended to infinite vanishing points held all her thoughts and bits that she didn't want to forget, but couldn't give her current attention. A sense of calm clarity washed over her. She needed to find Minerva. Summoning her magic to her, she focused on that singular goal. A familiar spark of an idea forced her eyes open.
Pulling out her Order of the Phoenix coin, she set it on the bench opposite her. Touching her wand to the image of the Phoenix tail, she closed her eyes once more and murmured "Portus radix revealo". Feeling a reaction, she opened her eyes to see golden tendrils of a gossamer-like web beginning slowly to expand in mid-air from where her wand touched the surface. Pulsing coloured dots started appearing at the vertices, each one a slightly distinct quality. Yes! Ok, where are you, where are you? A brilliant green one sparked near the base of the coin. There! Keeping her wand still upon the coin, she carefully pulled her second wand from her robes and holding her breath, she touched the tip to the small green orb and muttered "Portus invertus". With a pop, the web collapsed, folding in on itself, and spun like water in a drain back into the coin. Racking her brain through everything she understood about portkeys, she almost yelped when a memory percolated to the top, TOUCH! It has to be touched by skin. Vibrating with excitement, she put her second wand away, and once again tapped her wand to the coin, saying clearly "Portus radix revealo". The web sprung instantly from the coin and spread revealing the dozen or so pulsing points of light. Carefully, kneeling on ground, she pulled her magic to her and while extending her fingertip to touch the sparkling green orb that reminded her of Minerva's eyes she bowed her head and declared "Portus invertus". A force she had never experienced seemed to suck her from the top of her head and squeeze her to an almost painful point. And just when she thought she had made a dreadful mistake, she felt herself expand once more, still in the same position, only the ground was different and Minerva's elegant boot was in her line of sight.
