Chapter Forty-Five
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Hogwarts was empty. One or two students joined Hermione for breakfast, but most had gone home for the holidays. After eating, Hermione wandered through the corridors. The sun shone, and the grounds were green. Bluebells peeked from the forbidden forest, and a pair of thestrals frolicked above the trees.
Hermione hovered beside the window, filled with an unaccustomed sense of freedom. A walk in the grounds was tempting, and she lingered. But walks didn't win wars, Hermione reminded herself. She had work to do, and she forced herself to turn for the library.
Inside it was quiet and empty and flooded with sunlight. The stacks of books beckoned, dust motes swirling in the shafts of sunlight lighting up the shelves. The last dregs of Hermione's tension eased as she breathed in the familiar scent of books.
Madam Pince wasn't behind her usual desk, and Hermione didn't spot her as she took her spot. She contemplated the shelves in front of her. They had held such promise a few weeks ago, but they hadn't delivered. Hermione had read dozens but found nothing useful. Nothing to explain what had happened to Ivan. Was it foolish to focus on his death, instead of searching for the Horcruxes?
Hermione shifted, her stomach aching from the concealment charm. It wasn't recommended for use this late in pregnancy. She glanced about her. The library was deserted. Where she was, sitting behind the shelves, she was out of sight, and she would hear if anyone entered the library. Tapping her stomach, she released the concealment charm. The relief was instantaneous. Her stomach swelled, and the pain receded. Hermione sighed and pulled pens and parchment from her bag.
In recent weeks she had made her way through most of the relevant books. But a comprehensive search had always served her best. It would be just her luck if the information she needed turned up in the last book in the pile.
What information was she looking for?
It was hard to know. But Hermione pulled another book from the shelves and sat down, flicking open to the first page. Forcing her mind to concentrate she began to read.
The morning passed slowly. The book she was reading, Major Wizarding Events 1900-1950 was not providing any helpful information that she had not already read dozens of times, and Hermione had begun to doodle on the corner of her parchment when a tapping came from the window.
A shadowy figure rose beyond the glass.
Hermione's wand was in her hand, and she nearly pitched off her chair with fright. She turned to the window, spell on her lips, but squinted at the figure. It wasn't a shadow, it was a person on a broomstick. A familiar person.
Sirius Black waved at Hermione and gestured at the window latch. He was windswept and wore a long striped Gryffindor scarf and a smug smile, and she considered locking the window. But he'd be sure to find a way to pay her back.
Hermione opened the window.
"What on earth are you doing here?" she said, heart still pounding. Keeping her body angled away from Sirius, she pressed her wand to her stomach, willing the concealment spell back into existence. Thank gods she was good at non-verbal magic.
"You know I don't go home in the holidays."
Hermione had known, but she had forgotten.
"Flying around the library harassing people studying, I meant?"
Sirius pulled his broom up to the window and took a grasp of the frame. He climbed inside with surprising grace, pulling his broom in after him and closing the window.
"There's fuck all else to do."
"So you went to the library? Not your style."
Sirius shrugged.
"To tell you the truth I was looking for you."
"Looking for me," Hermione said, more sharply than she intended. "Why were you doing that?"
Sirius leaned his broom against a bookshelf and took the seat opposite her, yawning.
"I saw you this morning at breakfast and realised that your Death Eater club has all gone home for the holidays, my brother included. Thought I might finally find out what's going on."
"Nothing's going on
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? That's why none of them have been speaking to you since Christmas?"
"If you're just here to harass me you can leave," Hermione said, rubbing her eyes. "I've got work to do."
"I'm not here to harass you," Sirius said. "I'm worried about you. We all are. Lily asked me to check up on you."
"Well, you can tell Lily not to bother."
Sirius tilted his head. "Must have been something big that went down - something at the wedding I'm guessing. What did you do?"
"Piss off," Hermione said. "I mean it, Sirius. I'm not in the mood. Just because we're on the same side now doesn't mean we're friends."
But Sirius didn't leave. He leaned against the bookshelves and observed her for several minutes.
"You look like shit," he said after a minute.
Hermione spun around and had her wand in Sirius's face before he could so much as twitch.
"I mean it, Sirius Black I am not in the mood and I have work to do. So get out of here now before I hex your bollocks off."
Sirius raised his hands and chuckled. "Right. Point taken. Not in the mood to talk. What are you working on? Maybe I could help. I'm at a bit of a loose end for the next two weeks or so."
Hermione shook her head. "Just go."
She wanted solitude, but Sirius didn't leave. He stepped into the alcove and scrutinised the shelves and cast a glance over the books she had lying on the table.
"Grindelwald stuff hm?" He said, picking up a title and flicking through. "What're you looking at him for? I didn't know we covered him in History of magic."
Hermione shook her head.
"I'm not interested in him, she said, weighing up her options and considering that Sirius wasn't too much of a threat. "I'm trying to find out about Ivan Grindelwald."
"Ah." Sirius sucked in his lips. "The dead guy that your friend went on the run for."
"Yes," Hermione said. "Him."
"Why?" Sirius frowned. "I know he was a dick to you at the tournament but he's dead now."
Hermione shrugged. "I can't explain it. But I think he's connected to all of this somehow. It seems like too much of a coincidence that someone would show up and start trying to kill me. And his death -" she hesitated, unsure how much to tell Sirius.
"His death?" Sirius prompted.
"It was staged," Hermione said. "Carefully. It was designed to make it look like I killed him. Arabel went down for me, but whoever killed him intended it to be me."
"Shit," Sirius said, staring. "You've got some serious enemies."
"Yep."
"So you're doing what here exactly?" Sirius said, looking around at the stacks of books.
"I'm trying to find out more about him and I think Grindelwald was the place to start," Hermione said. "What? Why are you looking like that?"
"You're looking for information about a dead teenager in 1977 by researching his grandfather?" Sirius said. "You're way on the wrong track. What about recent shit in Europe?"
Hermione paused and stared helplessly around her, at the stacks of books and piles of parchment. It made sense, but still -
"But there might be something here about whether any of Grindelwald's followers stayed active after the war," she said. "If Ivan was ever linked to any of them or anything like that."
Sirius shrugged. "Well it's not up to me, and it sounds like a dead-end, to be honest. But if I were you and I was keen to find out more I would start by asking someone who's got parents in the ministry. Someone who knows a bit about how a kid called Grindelwald ended up in this kind of tournament."
Hermione stared at Sirius. "That's…" surprisingly good advice.
"Yep," Sirius said smugly. "Dunno who you'd ask though. I suppose my parents would be ideal, but.."
"Quite," Hermione said drily.
Sirius shoved his hands in his pockets. "Don't suppose you want to sack off the research and come for a ride?"
"On your broomstick? I think I'd rather face Voldemort in single combat."
Sirius laughed. "Scared, Black?"
Hermione scowled, and his eyes widened. "You are! Really? You're afraid of heights?"
"Yes well I'm sure your fears aren't much more sensible," Hermione snapped.
Sirius shrugged. "Nah. I have no fears."
"Bullshit," Hermione said, stacking up her parchment and putting her quills away.
Sirius brightened. "Shall we get lunch?"
"I'm not eating with you, Black," Hermione said, returning her books to the shelves.
"Oh come on," Sirius groaned. "Drop the act. I'm bored and lonely, you're bored and lonely. Let's have some fun!"
Sirius went cross-eyed, finding himself at wandpoint. A flying spark scorched his eyebrow.
"Ouch! Not that kind of fun! Jesus Black lay off."
"I'm married," Hermione snapped.
"Yeah and you're not my type, so you can chill the fuck out."
Sirius shoved Hermione's wand away. "God you need to work on your anger problem. Come on, the food's a good start."
And although she didn't quite know why Hermione followed Sirius out of the library. Perhaps she was lonely like he said. Or it was nice to talk to someone who wasn't angry at her. But whatever the reason, Sirius was right. Food was a good start.
After that day Hemione found herself spending a surprising amount of time with Sirius. In her timeline, she hadn't liked him much. He had been too reckless, too destructive, and such a bad influence on Harry. Hermione valued order and rationality, and Sirius went the opposite way. When he had died, she'd grieved what his death had done to Harry, rather than the man himself.
Yet it was warming, somehow, being with someone with so little regard for sensibility. Sirius did as he pleased. He ate, slept and worked at strange hours, and was as happy drifting around the library as he was playing catch with the whomping willow. Despite herself, Hermione began to like him. She suspected he was keeping secrets too, because he wrote endless letters, and spent long minutes at a time staring into space and sighing. She ignored it. It was none of her business anyway.
\\/
Hermione received a summons from Voldemort a week later. She had been expecting one for some time, yet familiar apprehension gripped her as she apparated to Lestrange Manor. It felt wrong to leave Hogwarts without Severus waiting for her. There had been a comfort knowing that he was there, still waiting. But he was away, and nobody knew she had gone.
Hermione needn't have worried what Voldemort might do. He had summoned every Death Eater to Lestrange Manor, and his ebullient mood saturated the large ballroom as the robed and masked attendees poured in through the doors.
The crowd swept Hermione into the ballroom, jostling her on all sides. There were so many Death Eaters here - had Voldemort been recruiting? It was impossible to tell beneath the masks. She adjusted her own and pushed her way through the crowd until she was in the front row. They would expect it of her.
"I believe that is everyone," Voldemort said, clapping his hands as the last stragglers made their way through the doors. "Good. You must all follow me outside. I have a surprise prepared for you all."
The Death Eaters shuffled their feet, and a few exchanged nervous looks. Voldemort in such good humour was worrying. They followed him through the large french doors into the night. Hermione gripped her wand in one hand and a portkey in the other. If things went downhill, she had no intention of being caught in the crossfire.
But as they made their way across the beautifully laid out grounds, it all became clear. It was a starry night, and the moon was full and bright, lighting up what waited ahead.
Hermione's head spun. This was what Voldemort had been working on?
"Bloody hell," the man beside Hermione whispered under his breath.
It was colossal - unreal - it was -
"Hogwarts," Hermione breathed.
It wasn't Hogwarts, it was a part of Hogwarts. It was a perfect replica of the duelling arena in the middle of the grassy Lestrange lawn. Stone seats stretched up to the sky, surrounding a sandy floor. Open to the stars like this the duelling arena looked like a colosseum. It was vast - bigger than she would have believed possible. How had Voldemort managed it? Creating an entire arena was a phenomenal feat of magic. It was a perfect replica - right down to the scorched and battered stones that had taken spellfire.
Voldemort must have expanded the lawn to accommodate it - and expanded it a lot. Hermione didn't remember the Lestrange grounds being this big at her wedding. The trees along the edges of the property and the high walls that protected it from outsiders were far away and distant. How could Voldemort have hidden it from outsiders?
Hermione tilted her head up, this time not admiring the stars or the moon but searching for - yes! Almost invisible to the naked eye; a slight ripple in the sky. She murmured approval and the man beside her looked up too.
"Ah," he said. "A visual obscuration ward. Ingenious. No-one will see this even if they fly directly overhead on a broom."
Hermione marvelled at the spell. Any ministry officials flying overhead would see only grass. It was an incredible piece of magic. Hermione felt dwarfed, suddenly, by a man who could cast this class of incantation. How could they ever defeat him? She shook her head, and the man beside her chuckled.
"He's incredible, isn't he?"
"Indeed," Hermione murmured.
The man turned to her. " Forgive me but if I am not mistaken, you are Hermione Black, are you not?"
"I am," Hermione said, having given up corrected wizards on her new name.
The man took her man and brought it to his lips. "An honour to meet you. I am Antonin Dolohov, and I have long hoped to meet with the witch who withstood so great a trial at the testing last summer."
Only great self-control prevented Hermione from ripping her hand out of his grasp. Her heart thudded in her chest, and her scar throbbed.
"It is an honour to meet you also sir," she said, forcing the words out. "But we must catch up - the others are leaving us behind, and our Lord will want to address us all."
Trying not to look as though she was hurrying, Hermione turned from Dolohov and made her way through the crowd, putting as much space between them as possible.
But the magic had gone from the air. The great duelling arena was a monstrous thing, not an achievement of magic. As the Death Eaters crowded forward, Hermione allowed them to carry her along until Dolohov was lost among the crowd.
Lord Voldemort entered the arena through a small gate, stepping onto the sand and gesturing that they should all follow him. The Death Eaters poured into the arena, and as Hermione stepped through the gate, she looked with horror. Voldemort had captured every detail of the arena - from the spectator's seats to the competitor's boxes. It was all perfect, right down to the dusty red seat covers, chilling and uncanny.
"What you see before you," Voldemort said, magically enhancing his voice so it boomed across the grounds, "is where we will take our place in wizarding history. This is to be the floor of our greatest endeavour, and the place where we have the opportunity once and for all to wipe the scum from the face of wizarding Britain. This is Hogwarts!"
There was a small amount of confused murmuring from Death Eaters who didn't recognise Hogwarts ever looking like this, but Lord Voldemort continued.
"Hogwarts has built this arena underground, below the school to host the International Wizarding Schools Duelling Competition. It is a purpose-built chamber with an arena, seating for thousands of spectators, places of honour for the heads of magical states and schools, and the duelist themselves."
He gestured at the stands that rose all around them, thousands of empty seats rising into the night sky.
"This is where we will make our stand. This is our greatest opportunity to take Wizarding Britain. We will kill Albus Dumbledore, we will kill the Minister of Magic and the incompetent ministry department heads alongside him, and we will announce a new dawn in wizarding Britain. Our takeover will be complete and sudden and final. They will not know we are coming, and we will take them entirely by surprise."
The Death Eaters began to cheer and stamp, and Hermione joined in, bringing her hands together. Voldemort was breathing hard, his handsome face flushed and eyes sparkling. He scanned the crowd as they quietened, and called out:
"Hermione Black! Come forward."
Hermione's heart thumped, but she pushed through the crowds of Death Eaters. They parted like the sea before her. She stepped onto the sands and towards Voldemort. It was uncanny being back in the duelling arena, and yet not.
Voldemort grasped her by the arm as she reached him and pulled her to stand beside him. His grip was like iron.
"Is it not perfect?" he asked in a low voice. "Is every detail not exactly correct?"
"It is perfect," Hermione said, swallowing. "My Lord, how did you -"
But she realised. They were, of course, at Lestrange manor. Rabastan had been home from school for the past week, and Voldemort would have had every opportunity to retrieve a memory of the duelling tournament.
"Young master Lestrange provided me with a memory of his most recent battle," Voldemort said, frowning. "I was most displeased to see his failure, but the memory was useful in other ways."
"And why -"
"Have I created this? You shall hear. Companions!" he called, turning to the Death Eaters. "In six weeks, Hermione Black will take part in this competition final. She will be the last competitor on the sand, and it will be the most attended, anticipated bout of all."
The Death Eaters were silent, listening intently.
"Every seat," Voldemort said, waving his arm around at the empty stands "Will be filled. And we will be among them. But we will not be an untrained rabble. We will be a small force facing thousands. But we will be trained and ready and more - we will have a plan, and we will execute it perfectly."
Hermione nodded, understanding dawning at last, and astonishment, too. Voldemort hadn't done anything like this the first time around.
"So!" Voldemort said, clapping his hands. "Now we begin! We will start by assigning your seating. I require every member of our forces to be precisely spaced out around the arena so that when the time comes we can move from all directions. Please enter the stands and you will find that some seats have names. Find yours, sit, wait."
And in a most un-Voldemort-like manner, he began directing Death Eaters towards the stands, and into their seats. He devoted the next few hours to what Hermione could only describe as a military drill, practising the strategy again and again.
Later that evening, when Hermione visited Dumbledore to make her report, she was still shaking her head in disbelief.
"He's actually come up with a real plan," she told Dumbledore. "I'm supposed to kill you. Then, while everyone is panicking, Voldemort's going to kill Minchum. Between you and the Minister of Magic, that should cause chaos."
"Does he truly believe you can kill me?" Dumbledore mused, glancing at the darkening sky.
"I don't know," Hermione said truthfully.
"Interesting. And what happens next?"
"Next," Hermione swallowed, "we've already sealed the doors. We drop into the arena from the stands fast - Voldemort wants us to learn his flight spell - and Voldermort introduces the new regime. We order the crowd to give up the mudbloods, and when they resist, we kill one student every minute they delay."
Dumbledore's face became grave.
"This is most serious indeed. We must do everything in our power to ensure it never comes to pass. I cannot tell you how relieved I am that we have the intelligence you bring us, Hermione."
"Thank you, professor," Hermione said. "So what are we going to do?"
"I will speak with the order. Mad-Eye should have some idea of the best way to proceed. It may be that at the moment you are supposed to kill me, we may have to ask you to aim for another target."
"Voldemort," Hermione whispered. She gripped her wand. This was one murder that she would gladly commit.
\\/
The rest of the Easter holidays passed quickly. Hermione took Sirius's words to heart and left off the books about Grindelwald's rise to power. With his help, she searched for more recent political movements in Europe and Eastern Europe, discovering many intriguing books, but no concrete leads. Until the last day of the holidays when another idea struck.
Sirius wasn't with her. The Hogwarts Express was arriving, and he had gone down to Hogsmeade to meet the marauders off the train. It caused Hermione a pang. She had grown used to his company, his jokes and good temper. He'd be back with his friends now.
Hermione gave herself a mental shake and forced herself to focus. Hogwarts stocked old magazines and newspapers. With Harry and Ron, she had researched the Daily Prophet back in her own time when they had been searching for the Half-Blood Prince - and the irony did not escape her. But what about other countries?
Hermione put the question to Madam Pince: Did the library have any copies of European Newspapers?
Madam Pince, who knew more about Hermione's research than anyone else, sniffed before answering. "Hogwarts has the finest collection of wizarding archives anywhere in Europe. Of course, we stock international papers."
Among some dusty boxes in a corner, Hermione found a massive filing cabinet that released shelves that went further back than they ought. Madam Pince unlocked the filing case with another sniff and a warning about greasy hands and left Hermione to it.
Hermione stared at the piles of paper in the cabinet. She had no idea the international wizarding community had so many newspapers. It took several hours to sift through them until she found a Bulgarian newspaper. It was, of course, in Bulgarian, but the library had helpful charms for that. Collecting a translation charm from Madam Pince, Hermione pulled out a stack at random and sat down to read. To her disappointment, it was tedious.
After the first few papers, she gave up reading cover to cover and just read the headlines.
Minister Raychev opens hospital.
Quidditch pitch at crisis point.
New Ministry entrance hardly used.
Hermione yawned and flicked through a few more papers. Bulgaria looked like the most boring country on earth if the newspapers were to be believed. She reached for her wand to check the time, and the newspapers spilt off her lap. Hermione knelt to pick them up, and as she did so, she caught sight of a headline that aroused her interest.
'Just youthful spirits' Claims Ministry as muggle relations office torched.
Frowning, Hemione turned to the article.
Rumours that this arson was the work of the Pureblood Alliance have been fuelled by the presence of many international witches and wizards entering the city in recent days and congregating in unusually large numbers. Minister Raychev dismissed all speculation, claiming that muggle youths started the blaze in a nearby shopping centre and it spread...
Hermione put the paper down, perplexed. "Who the hell is the Pureblood Alliance?" she said to nobody in particular.
Several hours later, Hermione was knee-deep in newspapers and frowning so hard that she was sure lines were etching themselves into her forehead. There was so much new information to assimilate, and her head was spinning. She needed to talk to someone about it. But Sirius was out, and there was only one other person she wished she could. Perhaps after the holidays, he would have softened his attitude…
Hermione checked the time. The Hogwarts Express should have arrived by now, and if she hurried, she could be at their rooms when he got back.
She left the library in a hurry and crashed into Sirius right as she turned around the corner. Papers flew from her arms and scattered all across the corridors.
"Shit!" Sirius said, scrambling to pick up the papers. "I'm sorry. I was just coming to find you. Here."
He handed her back an armful of papers, and Hermione stared at him. "Why were you coming to find me? Isn't the express back?"
"Oh yeah it got back ages ago," Sirius said. "Where are you going with those?"
"I'm going to see if Severus is back," Hermione said, cheeks heating. "I haven't told him about any of this research yet, and I think I've found out something important today."
Sirius opened his mouth and closed it. He looked away.
"What?"
"Do you really think that's a good idea?"
"What are you talking about?" Hermione said, annoyed.
"He's being a dick!" Sirius burst out. "We all know it! It's obvious. Why are you bothering?"
Hermione stared at Sirius, lost for words. "I -"
"Don't answer," Sirius said, shaking his head. He looked weary. "I already know why."
"Because -"
"Because you love him. Yeah. It's shitty, right?" Sirius said. "Look, I'm sorry, it isn't my business. But I saw him at the station already, and if you thought he was bad before the holidays, he's worse now. He's in a bad fucking mood - I'd steer clear."
"Then I need to see him," Hermione said.
"No, you don't!" Sirius said. "Listen - we're all heading to a classroom on the third floor to have welcome back drinks. Come with me. I promise it'll be a damn sight more fun than anything you've got in those papers. Lily wants to see you again, too."
Hermione hesitated, shifting her papers. Wasn't it urgent? Nobody cares about your Grindelwald research, a small voice in her head reminded her. Severus least of all. But what if something was wrong - what if he needed to see her?
Or maybe he's in a bad mood because he's going to see me again.
"Yeah," Hermione said, shoving the papers in her bag. "Yeah, alright. I'll come."
\\\/
Another chapter at last! It turns out I might have slightly (heavily) overestimated my ability to combine work, masters study, and homeschooling. Reader, what was I thinking? But, y'know, we'll get there eventually. And this chapter was less sad, so that's a win.
Thanks for reading,
Cas
