In a weird mix of reflexes, Ron cast the body-bind at the same second as Hermione reached up and kneed the shadow in the gut. Hard.

It took barely a heartbeat for her to realise that none of them had had any effect, so she grabbed Ron's hand, who was still looking if the curse had hit its mark, and pulled him into a sprint.

Ron cursed.

Hermione turned back, and whispered to Ron.

'Listen to me carefully, and repeat what I say, 'kay?'

He nodded. She took a deep breath, but didn't stop running, barely decreased her pace and mouthed the incantation for the Stunner. It wasn't her most confident hit, like the water making charm but like it, it was the most practical one at the moment.

'Right, one, two, three- Stupefy!'

Ron's jet of light looked suspiciously more orange than red, but since his wand wasn't pointed at her, she didn't care. Her own looked more satisfactory, but none of them hit the mark. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione caught the image of grey eyes, and a hoarse voice swearing.

'Fuck it, Hermione, RUN!'

'Don't tell me it's Black?' asked Hermione, as they steered to the right, away from the forest's borders.

'Merlin knows, wait, wait, the dementors? Where are they stationed?'

'Hogsmeade?' said Hermione blindly, and tried to quicken up her pace. She spared a look back, and realised that the so called shadow had disappeared and in its stead was a huge black dog.

'The Grim?' yelled Ron.

'The one Trelawney sees in your cup?'

Ron shook his head, panting as both of them tried to reach Hagrid's place, but that dog was right at their heels now, and so they didn't stop. Hermione tried to cast a few spells, but her aim was off. She held his hand tighter, just as the dog leaped, knocking the two of them to the ground.

'Flipendo!' said Ron, and the dog reeled, as Hermione yelled the stunner again. The red jet of light missed the enormous animal, and claws dug into her exposed arm, as its jaws tightly clamped on Ron's hand.

Hermione gave a half hearted kick in its direction and said an incarcerous which reached its mark, but was of course, nothing in front of the dog. The dog rolled back into the shadows, and for a moment there was silence.

She cast the Knockback Jinx again for assurance and pulled Ron up, who was half limping.

'Hermione,' he said, voice hoarse, arm bleeding. 'He- He has Scabbers.'

'What? Why does he need Scabbers?'

He shrugged, and made a sudden movement towards the direction where the dog had disappeared, but seemed to decide against it.

'Do you think that was Black?'

'All I saw was the dog. And that man speaking, but both of them aren't here now, so I say we just go back to the school.'

'Fine,' said Ron. 'Besides, I have a high feeling the dementors are coming, so yeah, let's leave.'

In an act of insanity, Potter decided to sit beside her for Arithmancy. While they usually had this class with the Ravenclaws, Professor Vector liked to mix their schedules, because "it fostered inter house unity". According to her, anyway.

'Ello, Granger.' said Potter, as he shifted closer. Hermione who was writing the next sequence for the Five's matrix, looked to the side and raised her eyebrows in question.

'Ya supporting Slytherin, eh?'

She rolled her eyes. 'Accents don't work for you, Potter.'

'Okay,' he sighed, and took a side glance at what she was writing. Hermione instantly shielded the parchment with her arm, and looked back onto the board, where Professor Vector's animated pieces of chalk were scribbling the historical properties of the number five.

'So, you'll be there for my Quidditch match, right?'

'Your Quidditch match? Last time I heard, Wood was the captain?'

'Ah,' he said, apparently satisfied. 'So you do follow us.'

'High hopes, Potter. If you still haven't noticed, green and silver stands for Slytherin. I'm Slytherin. I support Slytherin, even if I don't like the damn sport.'

'Why're you so easy to rile up?'

'That's the same answer for why you are so annoying.'

He sighed again, and continued writing whatever he'd been doing. A few moments later, he looked up.

'You shouldn't be so easily chuffed, Hermione.'

'I think what I should be doing is none of your business, Harold.'

'Hey, its Harry!'

'Okay, Hadrian.'

'Harry.'

'Harriet.'

'Harry.'

'Harley.'

'Fine, Her-mi-nin.'

'Your pronunciation is atrocious.'

'Oh c'mon,' he said. 'Be there at my Quidditch match against Ravenclaw.'

'Is this some stupid bet between you and Ron?'

'No, no. Anyway, people support winning teams-'

'Ron's an exception,' said Hermione under her breath.

'-So Gryffindor is way better than those 'Claws. Cheer for us this one time, won't you?'

'No damn way. And isn't the new Ravenclaw seeker a girl?'

'Yeah, Cho Chang.'

'Yeah, her.' Said Hermione happily. 'You're gonna get your arse handed to you by her, so I'll be supporting them.'

'Chang's rubbish. Just because her boyfriend's captain for Hufflepuff doesn't mean she's good-'

'You're better than Malfoy. That's probably the only praise you'll be getting from me, and that isn't much. In my book, even the Nargles are a step better.'

'What are Nargles?'

'Mischievous creatures; they like to hoard in Mistletoe.'

Professor Vector started to explain the next topic then, so Potter was subdued, apart from doodling Hippogriffs in the margins everytime he miscalculated exponents. As the bell rang, he tapped her shoulder. Hermione pulled on her bag, and turned.

His hair was ridiculously sticking up, and he subconsciously mussed it up even more.

'Can you help me with the homework?'

'No.'

'Please, Hermione.'

'No, Harriet.'

'Oh c'mon, just today.'

Hermione considered. 'Fine, at six sharp in the library.'

'Sure, I'm extremely punctual, so don't worry.'

'I'll worry either way,' said Hermione.

'What do you have next?'

'Defence.'

'Cool, me too.'

'Don't you dare pick me to partner for the duel,' she said, but not as convincing.

'Then I'll remember to do that.'

'Is following me around your new mission in life? Whatever happened to your prankster goals?'

'That's on holiday.'

'And your mission?'

'To make you attend my Quidditch match.'

'I'll never come, especially when it's not my house playing.'

'Granger.' came a deep growl, and Hermione looked up as Professor Moody gestured for the both of them to shut up and take their seats.

Potter purposefully sat down next to her and Ron.

'So we'll be continuing our duels from yesterday- Granger, come here. We'll pair you with, you Nott.'

Nott was one of those Slytherins who were explicit purebloods, but unlike Parkinson and Malfoy, didn't go around airing their views to everyone. He'd never seemed to have much of a problem with Hermione herself, and they were on the terms of "pass the salt, please".

Hermione glanced at those dark eyes. Nott was usually silent, but she knew there were layers of shields in his mind, because Nott observed things. There was the barest flicker of a smile on his lips, and she thought he seemed to have watched her duels last class, because he was judging the position she was standing in. But he wasn't the only observer. Hermione knew spells fifth years would have trouble with. She just often had muggle reflexes, in a moment of panic, she might knee her opponent than send a curse his way.

Hermione let herself smile, and twirled her wand, Stupefy on her lips.

She won, as she knew she would.

'So you really think it's Black?'

Hermione and Ron were sitting in Divination, where they were currently doing palmistry. Beside them, Parvati and Lavender were talking in enthusiastic tones to Trelawney on how Mars had been particularly bright last night.

'You have a fork on the first line; that means you'll have to make a difficult choice soon…'

'Hermione, did you hear what I said?'

She shook her head. He sighed and repeated his question.

'He has grey eyes, doesn't he?'

He shrugged. 'Most Blacks do. But lots of people have grey eyes.'

'Well, that's all I saw. Maybe, he's the dog?'

'Oh, an Animagus! We'll check that in the library then, they'll surely have a register-'

'More like I do the work, and you try to flirt with Padma-'

'Hey!' he protested, his ears red. Hermione grinned.

'I surely hope you have been successful in the reading of Fate's lines. I myself will be personally checking your progress now, so take a deep breath and try to open your Inner Eye…'

'Cool, pass me the book, let's try to find the most gruesome tragedy in it-'

'So, Miss Granger, will you read my palm?' asked Professor Trelawney, in her usual misty tones, settling into a pouffe, and handing her her hand, with a thousand bracelets dangling from it.

'Well, Professor, you have an unusually short Fate's line…'

'You know what, I'm convinced, Hermione, the dog is Black, and it's just having a party hiding in the Forest and probably stealing from Hogsmeade-'

'Then how do you explain that his Animagus form isn't registered anywhere?'

'Hey, Granger!' came a loud noise. Hermione and Ron turned to face Potter, who was carrying his Arithmancy books and in an attempt to look studious, had worn his tie very straight.

'Since when are you on "hey" terms?' asked Ron.

'Since today's Arithmancy class. His new mission in life is getting me to cheer for him at the Quidditch game.'

Ron chuckled. Potter dumped his books on the table, looked at the book in her hand and narrowed his eyes.

'What's this about dogs and Black?'

'Nothing.' Said Ron. 'Just a Quibbler theory.'

'Don't lie, Ron. The two of you are up to something, I can see.'

'Yeah, we're training to catch Black. Just yesterday we figured out that all the Dementors need is a healthy dose of Cockroach Clusters-' said Hermione sarcastically.

Potter scowled. Hermione handed the Animagus book to Ron, and sat down across Potter. As expected, he picked up the Quidditch match issue at the end of it. She glanced at the clock.

'So this is what you came for?'

'No.'

'Oh, piss off, Potter. I'm not coming to any stupid Quidditch match. I have work to do.'

'Fine, then. Thanks for the help.'

He was quite angry, and he stormed out of the library. Hermione exhaled heavily.

'How do you spend time with him willingly?'

Ron shrugged. 'You hate Quidditch, I don't. Okay, then we'll go back to the Forest?'

'It doesn't sound the most logical, but well, fine. But not today, it's a Friday and Adrian's going to be doing a head count. This will take time, and I really don't want to miss curfew and get detention again.'

'Tomorrow's a Hogsmeade weekend.'

'Monday then?'

'I'm guessing most of them would be drunk and passed out, but Snape was never known for being accommodating. Monday it is. We have to get to the root to this.'

As they entered the Slytherin Common Room, Hermione could feel Nott glaring at her across the room, as she sat down on an armchair. He and Malfoy were in deep discussion, shooting the occasional stare at her, which she ignored. But it wasn't that, it was the fact that Malfoy and Nott were talking together voluntarily.

Ron said he was going to the dorms, and Hermione nodded a good night, because she wasn't feeling sleepy yet. Zabini sat down beside her.

'They're talking about you.' He said.

'Yeah, I'm a very popular person,' said Hermione.

'You are. But I think you should know what they're talking about.'

'The next big plan to kill me?'

'Yes.' It was just a statement, as casual as saying the weather was bad. 'For real. Did you see today's newspaper?' he asked. Hermione shook her head.

Zabini pulled out a paper cutting from his bag, and handed it to her without looking at Hermione's face.

The picture of a muggle woman floating in the air, illuminated by deathly green light spread across the fourth page, which made Hermione fume when she read the heading:

Suspected Death Eater activity at Blackrod, two Muggle men missing- alleged killing.

This news was on the fourth page, when Dolores Umbridge's supposed reforms hogged the headlines? If she saw the Prophet's editor, she'd gladly curse him to choke on his own saliva.

'See that?' said Zabini, pointing at the Dark Mark shining ominously in the night sky. 'The Death Eaters are banding back.'

'Nott's father is a Death Eater?'

He nodded. 'Then that's what the two of them are talking about?' asked Hermione, not caring that Zabini was not at all a reliable source, and that he deemed her unworthy to study magic, or even be allowed at Hogwarts. She was getting help, and she would make the best of it while she had it. Hermione just had to make sure she didn't depend on it being permanent. Nothing was.

'They're discussing if the Dark Lord has returned.'

'Bigots.' Muttered Hermione under her breath, and resumed her focus to the article. There was nothing suspected about it when you could fucking see the Dark Mark in the sky. She said as much aloud. Zabini chuckled.

'That's just how it is. Power is everything.'

Was Voldemort back then? Is that why her scar had started aching? Hermione clenched and unclenched her fingers, trying not to think about the way those Muggles had floated. It was unnatural, horrible, and it reminded her all too well what it felt like to be helpless.

And why was Zabini telling her all this? She would let that question rest for a while. It was only giving her a headache and Blaise Zabini was not worthy enough to get a headache over.

Zabini let his eyes flicker on her for the fraction of a second, and said very quietly.

'That was a good duel today.'

'Confringo!' screamed Hermione.

The table exploded into ashes, and Hermione let herself smile. Finally, she'd gotten that spell.

For some reason, she felt her parents would be proud.

'Do you think he'll really sell us some Firewhiskey?' asked Ron, as he and Hermione settled down at the dingy Hog's Head. The barman, who was polishing glasses looked at them very suspiciously. Hermione glared. They surely didn't look any weirder than the short person covered from head to toe in smoking bandages, sitting at a table across them.

But, being honest, they were probably the only students there. It sort of reminded her of Knockturn Alley, a whole underground world, with their little connections and passwords, those little glances, the subtle glares. And she and Ron were barely tourists passing through, marks to be conned.

It didn't help that her scar was on display.

Hermione had not experienced fame the way the books described her. Her first time at Diagon Alley had been somewhat like that, a surreal experience that had been so hopeful, bright. A place where people had pointed at her through the streets, whispers of the Hermione Granger, eyes that followed. Now she knew, now she wasn't that bright eyed child. She had never been that bright eyed child, it had just been those promises of a different world, a world where she could reign, a world where she belonged that had shown her such high dreams.

She had been so gullible for those two months. So naive. Hermione had really believed she'd found her place; found her world. Hogwarts had given her everything she wanted- good food, a fucking four poster bed, magic, even a resemblance of home. She had been so enamoured by that, she'd forgotten. Because the people who were here didn't just hate her because she was poor, or because she talked differently, or because of the way she looked.

They hated her because of her blood. They hated her because she'd lived.

She would never be like that again, vowed Hermione. She would remind herself of every petty thing they'd said, every cruel remark. She would feed it, she would nurture it, and she would succeed. Those summer dreams had only led to one thing- pain. Disappointment. And she already had enough of that in her life.

'You're barely fourteen, Ron. I think you still have a year to be drinking.'

'Butterbeer has alchohol too.'

Hermione shrugged. 'Those glasses have made me lose my appetite. Is he a squib or what?'

'Judging by the look on his face now, I'd say no. Let's leave before he demonstrates how good he's at those curses.'

Hermione tossed a few Sickles on the table for Ron's untouched glass of butterbeer, reprimanding herself in her mind. You did not waste money. You did not waste food.

Those were untold rules, rules you never bent because each one of them had grown up with the consequences. Those were morals she could never betray, because she knew what hunger was. Barely a taste, but enough to know the name of that numbing, hollow feeling, the one where you thought death was near. Hermione knew poverty, she had lived through it, she was living through it. And it wasn't like she'd had either of them in abundance ever. Even then, she often told herself she was among the lucky few. She had not grown up on the streets, though she knew its ways. She had not needed to scavenge for food, but Hermione knew hunger. There was always someone who had it worse, and always someone who had it better.

'No one from your Arithmancy club today?' asked Ron.

'No one from your Magical Creatures club either?'

'Ha,' said Ron fondly. 'You're spending too much time with Bulstrode.'

'Trying to be Slytherin and all that,'

They walked out almost aimlessly, but somehow found themselves on the track of the Shrieking Shack. Right beside that was a small range of hills, most of them with sharp jutting rocks, and peppered with tiny entrances, like some tunnelled caves.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione noticed a black haired figure with a bag slung on a shoulder, scarpering across the path. The boy was now attempting to scale those rocks, keeping to the lesser visible side.

'That looks like Potter, doesn't it?' she asked, elbowing Ron to get his attention.

'Blimey, yeah! What's he up to there?'

'Nothing good,' said Hermione automatically, and started to run to the hill. Her curiosity had never been something she could control, and she would keep it that way.

Ron reached her pace, a few seconds later, panting slightly.

'Ever climbed?' she asked, as she took a testing step on one of the chipped rocks which didn't look very sharp. Stable enough, Hermione decided.

He shook his head. She handed Ron her hand, and the two of them followed up, until they finally did see Potter in full view. He vanished into one of those black entrances, and Hermione leaped up another jutting rock, narrowly avoiding the sharp edge. Beside her, Ron prodded her shoulder.

She raised her eyebrows in question. Ron pointed at the small bones of some rat and the stray feathers of an owl on the rough ground. There was also a shredded newspaper cutting, which she realised as the one featuring Sirius Black's mugshots.

'You should leave.' She heard a voice say, and the sound of wrappers being peeled. Ron leaned closer.

There was no response. Next to her, Ron muttered something, and she felt as if everything sounded clearer. It wasn't louder, but now they could decipher the words clearly without the echoing and loud chatter from the town filling in.

'The Twins,' mouthed Ron.

'Or surrender. Take Veritaserum or something. Prove yourself.' That was surely Potter's voice.

'You believe the best of everyone,' came a hoarse, and yet familiar voice. Ron met her eyes; she knew he'd figured it out too.

'I have sacrificed my whole life for this. I have bled for this, for them. I will take my revenge. They do not care, and nor do you need to. I have done my godfather duties now; I'll come see your match and then I will leave.'

'You did all this and you're prepared to let them think of you as a back stabbing traitor?' asked Potter, his voice lowered, but it did not hide the disappointment, the pain in his words.

'Let them, I don't give a fuck. True friends would've known. Would have trusted me. Thanks for the food, but this is it. You have another godfather, don't you?'

'There's Rose. She'll be at Hogwarts next year. Come see us for her, at least.'

'Come see your sister I never knew existed until this moment? I'm not a saint.'

'Of course not, you're a Black.' Potter said harshly.

Sirius Black laughed, a mad, biting laugh, a laugh that seemed to say "well done" in a sardonic tone.

'James' son, through and through.'

She heard the scrape of stone on stone, a bark like laugh, and Ron pulled her, hiding behind a large boulder. Just in time, as Potter walked out of the cave, a piece of parchment held in his hand.

'Okay, so this is where we were first searching for Scabbers,'

'Yeah, and then I saw him moving towards the Willow,'

'And I followed, and the tree froze, you got him, then that voice came,'

'Right, so how do we freeze the tree?' asked Ron, looking at her expectantly.

'Like this,' came a voice. Hermione turned, wand pointed at the ready.

It was Luna Lovegood, and her hair was adorned with wildflowers, a pencil stuck behind her ear. She held her wand, and twirling it elegantly, said,

'Wingardium Leviosa!'

'That was quite simple, don't you think? People never seem to realise that.'

Ron looked at her like she was an alien. Hermione could certainly relate. Luna shifted her focus from Ron to her, and her whimsical expression shifted to something robotic.

'You sent that Hufflepuff prefect, didn't you?' Her tone was steel, the usually dreamy eyes hard.

'Yes, did anything happen?'

Luna laughed that harsh, loud laugh of hers, and ran her fingers through her long hair absently.

'You are a very arrogant person, Hermione. You think you know the best for everyone, don't you, that you can sort everything right?' She stared at Hermione harshly.

'We aren't friends,' she said. 'Nor did I ask you for anything.'

'I just wanted to help,' tried Hermione, not understanding what Luna was aiming at.

'I don't need your help. Don't do that again, please.' Said Luna coldly, nodded stiffly at Ron, and disappeared into a patch at the boundaries of the Forest.

Ron looked at her darkly. 'What did you do, Hermione?'

It was the tone of disappointment, and nothing could strike as sharp as that. Not that Hermione would know how it felt to disappoint someone.

She opened her mouth to answer, even though she herself couldn't understand what Luna meant just as a short stab of pain caused her to clutch her scar, her knees bending. There- a flash of green light, the wheezy voice of a stranger saying the Avada Kedavra. Ron grabbed her hand urgently.

'What happened?'

'N-Nothing,' said Hermione, standing up straight. She felt ashamed for showing such a weakness, because Hermione knew pain, and this was nothing in front of the various injuries she'd had. Yet, this was a different pain, because this was a pain laced with fear, a fear that she was getting connected to Voldemort.

She hadn't even seen him in the flesh, and still, the name could provoke a hundred emotions.

It didn't hurt so much as physically, as the wildness of her thoughts. Because for every second it happened, Hermione's brain whirred through a million possibilities, thoughts that made her blood run cold, thoughts that made her cry, thoughts that she felt would've gladly accepted death.

'Your scar,' said Ron shortly. 'It's hurting, isn't it? Don't lie, Hermione, not to me.'

Tears sprang to her eyes involuntarily. Why was she fucking crying? She shouldn't cry, because crying got you nothing. And Ms. Rehana had always said that- crying got you nowhere. It got you nothing, but a pool of your own salty creation you could go drown in.

She wiped her face. The tears stopped.

'It is. It's been like that since a few weeks.'

'Curse scars,' said Ron thoughtfully, as though he was trying to remember a long forgotten lesson.

'And I've never lied to you.'

Ron gave a wry smile.

'Curse scars,' he continued. 'You Know Who's still out there. Could there be a connection? Maybe he has a scar too?'

'I hope not.'

'But, do you like, see him? Like what he's doing, if he is in a body at all. Or wait, you mentioned that prophecy last year, could it be related?' asked Ron, pacing slightly, as he seemed to pore over the question.

'I don't see what he is doing and all. I mean, till now, it was only that- just pain. But now, I think, I think I saw someone casting the Killing Curse.'

'You Know Who has his priorities then. Who shall we go to, Dumbledore?'

'No.' said Hermione firmly. 'Dumbledore is not responsible for me. Why should he care?'

'He isn't,' agreed Ron. 'But don't try to analyse it too much. If not Dumbledore, we'll go to Moody, he seems to like you-'

'He'll convince me to burn it off or something. He's too paranoid; he'll have me carted off to Mungo's.'

'And Snape was never known for giving advice. Merlin, Hermione, have you ever noticed the lack of responsible adults in your life?'

Hermione laughed bitterly.

Ron waved a hand across the thick undergrowth in the dark. He sat down on a nearby tree stump, and there was silence for a minute.

Hermione didn't want to actually let anyone know; there was no reason why anyone would help and so there was no reason why she should parade her weakness to everyone. They already seemed to know more about her. She could still remember the odd, slightly dissaproving way Mrs. Weasley looked at her during her first year. The way Seamus had. But everything seemed so bleak now. The picture of the Muggle woman floating like an eerie rag doll seemed to be burned on her eyes. That could be you, said a voice in her head. That could be anyone you know- Luke, Ms. Rehana, Shivani, anyone.

That was how your parents stood in front of Voldemort.

("The Death Eaters are banding back.")

Hermione closed her eyes, and she thought she could remember something- a flash of green light, someone screaming. A cold hand, a white hot burst of pain.

A baby was crying.

She opened her eyes.

'So all we've figured out about this is that Harry's in contact with the same Death Eater everyone thinks is after him?' said Ron, breaking the silence. Hermione was glad for it; because she didn't want to realise that those were her own memories; that the crying baby was her. Ron was clever that way; he always seemed to know.

'No one said Potter was a Ravenclaw.'

'I just don't understand why Black needed Scabbers,'

'But is Black the dog? Or was it just a dog?' asked Hermione. Ron shrugged.

'Scabbers is probably dead either way.'

Hermione was quiet. She'd never had pets, and never understood much of it, but she had enough tact to not blurt out something. This year at Diagon Alley, she'd seen the most remarkable cat ever, ginger with bandy legs and glittery yellow eyes. And she'd felt a little connection, a pull to pet it. But the Hogwarts funds weren't giving her galleons for ginger cats.

Anyway, thought Hermione wryly, such a cat would have stood out in the drab of her orphanage. And there were all the little kids...

Hermione decided to stop that line of thought; the idea of Shivani and Drew trying to teach the cat 'tricks' was now stuck in her head.

'It's fine; we have other things to do. Besides, it's getting late. If Harry's determined to reconcile with his godfather, who are we to stop him?' he said, in a controlled voice.

'Yeah, but listening to that conversation, and the one between Snape and his mum, it makes me think he was framed or something. Not that he's innocent,' she added quickly. 'He's a proven death eater. It's just something's there that doesn't add up. If Black's a dog; then he can obviously get through the dementors. If he can do that, he should have escaped years ago. Again, if he's after either me or Potter, he could have easily made a move- Hogwarts isn't exactly the Queen's bedroom.'

'He's insane. Logical reasoning isn't there in the Azkaban side effect list.'

Ron stumbled a bit closer to the frozen Whomping Willow. He seemed to have resigned about Scabbers, and had probably lost interest in the Black mystery.

'Fred and George always said there's some kind of passage here,' he said, proving his limited attention span. He knocked at the roots, and suddenly tripped, falling down on the gnarled roots.

'Hey, come here!'

Hermione crouched beside him, and realised that there was a hollow opening, leading to a long black tunnel.

'A passage right below this tree?' she asked, but Ron was already crawling in, and because Hermione seemed to love getting herself into reckless situations like this, she followed.

'Lumos,'

The tunnel lit up slightly, and Hermione followed Ron's lead, who had to stoop slightly. The grip of her shoes was rough, and the walls were full of sharp jutting flakes of stone. The tunnel gave way to another huge entrance, and as Hermione jumped over, landing on a wooden surface, she realised they were in a building of sorts. A shabby and torn carpet, and the walls were decorated with feral cuts, that seemed to have been caused by claws. Bloodstains were there on the wall and floor, and with a pang, she noticed few of them looked recent. She held Ron's hand tight, as her eyes fell onto the right, and pointed her wand.

A dead man lay at their feet.

A'N: Longest chapter I've written so far. On top of this, it was also supposed to have Hermione duelling with Harry and a scene with Moody, but I just decided to cut it off. As always, any feedback is appreciated.