Chapter 24
Hermione sat against the wall, under the prismatic shield, glaring at the eight Harrys in front of her.
"I'm Henry the eighth I am!" one of them crowed, in an awful stringy voice. "Henry the eighth I am I am!"
"I got married to a widow next door!" joined another one. "She's been married SEVEN TIMES before!"
Hermione scowled. It was her fifteenth time listening to that stupid song. That would have been annoying by itself, but he had somehow found a way to make it into a form of torture. He would suddenly change pitch, insert long, discordant pauses, and randomly start shrieking. It was taking every shred of self-control to drown out that nails on chalkboard feeling.
"Would you quit it?" she said through gritted teeth.
"Of course," the offending Harry clone said. "If you come out from under that shield and fight me."
Hermione just stared straight ahead, not acknowledging him in any way. She was trying to think.
She had seen this trick used before during Auror training. It was hard to cast as a spell, but easy enough if you used a potion, which is what she assumed Harry did. The spell would allow Harry to spontaneously duplicate himself, and teleport his magical ability to any projection of himself that he made. He could make the projections talk at will, but he could only cast magic from one at a time. He didn't even have to cast magic from his original body. If she hit the mirage, it wouldn't hurt him. The projection would just disappear.
The trick would be to figure out which one was the real Harry, or the magical Harry, then strike him.
"You know, it's going to be a really boring fight if you just sit there until the spell wears off," mused a Harry sitting along the wall. "I can't honour our deal, in that case."
In Auror training, she'd learned a few strategies to deal with this problem. She could attack each clone one by one, but that would leave her open to counterattack by Harry's disillusioned selves, of which she knew there had to be at least one. Which meant there were at least nine of him, and she was effectively surrounded. Normally, Hominum Revelo would have revealed all of them and made the job a lot simpler, but of course, Harry had planned for that.
"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised about this," said Hermione. "But how in the world did you learn how to cast near perfect invisibility spells?"
The Harry directly in front of her, standing with his arms folded, grinned. "Just practice. You may have my cloak, but I wouldn't leave myself defenceless. Plus, I like being invisible too much. All the same, perhaps you'll figure out how to find me?"
Hermione felt a pang of regret for not practicing that skill more. But she had the cloak, and it hadn't been needed. Besides, where would she find the time?
"I could just take you all down at once," mused Hermione. "I can shoot fire spells like a machine gun."
"You could try," one of his selves said, smirking.
Hermione felt a familiar knot of frustration building inside her. Of course, Harry would have thought of a way around that, wouldn't he? It would be the very first thing he would have done. While he couldn't cast magic from more than one projection at once, he could leave transfigured items nearby that would detonate if she shot at them. He was always transfiguring random devices to use in battle, like that time he'd made a bomb out of sunlight.
If she triggered one accidentally-and it hit her-then it would be game over. But it wouldn't even need to be a bomb. It just needed to have a distracting enough effect so that any coordinated attempt to destroy him would end in failure. No, there was no way he'd leave himself open to such an easy attack.
Hermione had a plan, though. She'd learned of a spell, a tracking device used by Aurors. It would stick to any human or animal target for several hours, just a small trace of magic that was virtually undetectable. It didn't even require a wand to cast. She sent one of them out, just as one of the Harrys let out a shriek that made her wince.
She gritted her teeth. Just a bit longer, and she would know where all his invisible selves were. Then, she could coordinate an array attack that would take him out, before he had a chance to fight back.
The most offensive Harry—the one who kept shrieking—hopped down off a ledge.
"That shield must be tiring you out," he said. "Am I to understand, that in all your Auror training, you still don't know how to defend and fire and the same time?"
"Well," she quipped. "Now you know why Aurors work in threes."
He stared at her. "In that case, your entire agency would be more incompetent than a medieval warrior. So, no, I don't believe that."
Hermione huffed a sigh, and decided to set up her own distraction. Her tracking spell wasn't completely undetectable, after all. "You know what, maybe I do know how to do that. But what would be the point, Harry? No matter how hard I try, you always win."
"Well, of course. Since you aren't trying."
Hermione ground her teeth. "Who says I'm not trying? Skilled Aurors have the use of charms and potions to defend themselves. It's like wearing body armor, and each one drains your magic. Of course, I haven't mastered how to fight under all those spells, because I'm not some perfect warrior god. Unlike you, who could make a weapon out of a cotton ball."
"Thank you," said Harry, as a few of his selves started bowing. "But seriously, why don't you hit one of me? You've got a one in eight chance of hitting the original body. If you manage to hit the one that's hiding my magic, that'll also affect me, whether it's the original body or not. But you know that already, right?"
"Don't patronize me," she said, her sight turned inward to the magic criss-crossing the room. "Your real self is probably invisible and flying around in a corner. Besides, why don't you attack me? You know how to break this shield."
"And reveal my magical minion? That's just asking for trouble." He smiled. "But just because I'm sitting here doesn't mean I don't have a plan. Just like you do, don't you, Hermione?"
Her magic had located another invisible person. That brought the total up to 10, and no one could go beyond 12 without physical pain. Not even Harry. She was close.
In her mind's eye, one of the threads snapped. There were ten, and now there were nine.
She blinked, searching for the one she'd lost. Nothing had changed. Another thread snapped, and this time a Harry on the right flickered out, reappearing again in the blink of an eye.
With a sinking feeling, Hermione realized he'd known all along about the tracker spell. Tonks had used it once in class, and of course he would have been curious to know how she defeated that 5th year Ravenclaw. All he would have had to do was ask someone. Mad Eye Moody, or Professor Flitwick. And since it was such a weak tracker, it wouldn't be hard to scrub away if you knew to look for it.
Her mind spun trying to think of a new strategy, but it felt so frustratingly pointless. Fighting with him was like a marionette trying to duel its puppet master. He always seemed to predict what she would do before she even tried it, and had factored it into his evil master plan. Her fists tightened. The worst thing was, she was the one who was being trained in battle strategy. And yet he was still better than her, and he knew it.
As she ruminated over these soul crushing thoughts, he went right on talking, his tone singsong. "Well, you know what they say, when one plan fails…"
"You know what, I've just about had it with you," fumed Hermione, standing up. "You are so insufferable with these mind games. This is supposed to be a duel, not a torture chamber! When you beat someone, you don't have to rub it in, you jerk! Get over here and fight me!"
"Uhhh…" said Harry. "I think not."
"Why, are you chicken? Scared you can't handle me unless you're hiding behind a chicken coward spell? Bawk bawk bawk!"
He was biting his lip, as if trying not to laugh. "What are you doing?"
Hermione stomped her foot. "Shut up! Every day, I always give it 110%. In my work, at school, and even in this dumb game. Even though I don't get enough sleep. Even though I feel lonely, and scared, and like I'm 2 seconds from wanting to leap off a cliff, I always have to smile and pretend like everything is fine! But it's not fine, Harry! And you're just pissing me off with your stupid taunting!"
His smile faded. "I didn't…uhh…I didn't mean—"
"Well, of course you didn't, because it doesn't change the fact that you're part of the problem! Now stop being a wuss, and get your butt over here! You're due for an ass kicking!"
He didn't say anything, just stared at her with his mouth agape. Another two of the threads snapped. Not like it mattered, anyway, but it still made her furious.
"Hermione…" said Harry, his voice nervous. "Please, calm down."
She knew he was right, that she was acting ridiculous. At that moment, however, the desire to crush something was so strong she could barely contain it. And, as if by magic, her mind supplied the answer.
The spell that would split a person was called, "Fracturus." Harry had used a potion, not a spell, but the magic behind it was the same. In some advanced potion books, she'd read that a way to warp a spell would be to change a key part of the phrase. That was why, sometimes, when a spell was spoken wrong, it would blow something up. That was also why the most delicate spells were kept in the restricted section of the Hogwarts library.
"Fracturus" was one of those delicate spells. A tiny mistake could have grave effects. By changing the ending syllable, she could pronounce it as "Fracturocks." It might do nothing, if she hit Harry with it. But if she was right, and her intuition often was, then it would corrupt the spell, even if she hit a fake Harry. He would begin to split out of control, and then it was only a matter of time before he wouldn't be able to deal with the strain. She could identify and take out the real Harry then.
The realization was euphoric. She could win! That would show stupid, smug Harry that he wasn't the best…
She turned to face him, but he didn't look smug right now. His clones all wore nearly identical expressions of concern and confusion. And that's when Hermione had her second realization.
She couldn't use the spell. Even when fighting Dark Wizards, improvising a spell was rash and dangerous. She certainly couldn't test out a magical corruption spell against her friend, no matter how angry she felt, or how much she wanted to win.
Her head pounded, and she felt lightheaded. She didn't have the energy for these mind games. No matter the outcome, it was time to end this.
"Alright, Harry," said Hermione, dropping her shield. "Come and get me."
The battle didn't take long at all.
Hermione fired at each Harry, as fast as she could, running in a straight line. Something blew up near one of Harry's feet, which triggered a whining sound and a lot of smoke. He fired at her from behind, and Hermione dodged. She fired, dodged, and kept moving until five Harry clones surrounded her. Three stood behind them, out of range, wands raised.
It was a stand-off. Maybe she would get lucky, and her spell would hit Harry before he hit her. But she was certain the original Harry was well protected, and his magic would evacuate the host as soon as he fired on her.
Hermione lowered her wand.
"Just do it," she said.
There was a long pause. "That's it? You're just going to give up?"
Hermione shrugged, and Harry looked outraged. "Then what was all that talk about fighting me for? Do you seriously have no ideas about how to get out of this situation?"
"Well…"
"What is it?"
"I did have one spell to try, but I can't use it. It's too dangerous."
The Harry clone folded his arms. "How dangerous? Scale of 1 to 10, in which 10 is death or brain cancer."
Hermione blinked. "Uhh…well, I don't think you'd die, but I can't use untested spells on you. Just hit me, Harry, I don't care."
He put his head in his hands. "I can't believe this. You try one way to defeat me, one, and then start yelling at me when I try to defend myself. And while you were glowering under the shield, I came up with at least three different strategies you could have tried. For example, you could have turned invisible immediately and gone on the attack. Even if I cast Hominum Revelo, you would have been going too fast for me to hit you."
She frowned. "But I would have just been hitting projections. It would do nothing, and you would recreate—"
"Yes, but it takes a few seconds if I'm dodging attacks, and it requires my own magic and concentration to sustain those forms. It's HARD to control 8 or 9 bodies at a time. You could have focused on any attack that might have overwhelmed me, forcing me to reduce my numbers and making me an easier target."
Which is what she was going to do, but she'd only thought of the one way, there were others…
Harry steamrolled on. "You could have cast spells to block off parts of the room, then corralled me into a corner and attacked. You could have cast a distraction spell to trip me up and give you an advantage. You could have used any number of strategies to force me to show you my real identity. I wouldn't have made it easy, and I would have fought you for every step, but odds are, you still would have won."
Hermione stood there, while Harry's clones winked out of existence, leaving one real Harry. He was standing right in front of her, this whole time. "Even if you'd tried everything, and it still didn't work, it would have been more fun than just…sitting on the floor, right?" He rubbed the back of his head, and murmured. "Unless you really think I'm that annoying to fight with."
He stood there, waiting for an answer. She folded her arms, and said softly, "Harry, all those ideas, they're yours. I'm not that creative."
He shook his head. "You have to believe in yourself. You're strong and capable, even against an annoying opponent like me. It's not like I always won, even when I was a General."
Hermione knew he was trying to help her, but all she could hear was Madam Bones' disapproving tone. You should think of these things, Hermione. I shouldn't have to tell you. If you fail, then your team fails. And then, another voice, more cajoling, like an alligator trying to draw her into the water. I need someone strong to defend our country. Do you think you're brave enough to do what needs to be done?
Hermione could feel herself shaking. The fight isn't over yet.
She blinked back tears and pulled the silver ball from her pocket. Wincing, she threw it at Harry, and fire exploded from the end of it in the form of a dragon. Fiend fyre.
She stared in abject horror. No no no!
But then, as Harry tried to run, she saw it was just a colourful paper dragon that looked like it was on fire.
The blast of the ridiculous paper dragon knocked him over, as it roared into the ceiling and exploded into confetti.
A woman's voice intoned, "Hermione Granger: win."
"Umm, do you think you could stop apologizing?" asked Harry, as she applied first aid to his injured forehead.
"Sorry," said Hermione, with a wince. "I mean—I just want you to know I didn't mean to hurt you. Or yell at you, either. I don't know what came over me."
As she inspected his scalp for the tiniest injuries, Harry sighed. She'd insisted on treating his minor wounds, as a form of apology. But she was really going overboard, here.
"Honestly, Hermione, if the confetti bomb had been on purpose, it would have been a brilliant strategy. Manipulating me into letting down my guard, blasting me with a sneak attack. I certainly didn't expect it. Of course, now I'll keep in mind that this weapon is in your arsenal."
Hermione finished with his first aid, and stood before him, twining her fingers nervously. "I said some really hurtful things to you, Harry. I didn't mean any of it, but…I wouldn't hold it against you if you were mad at me."
"I'm not mad," said Harry. Her scalding words had hurt him, at first, since he'd been shocked she thought he was so aggravating to her. But, as usual, logical introspection on these events had saved him from jumping to conclusions. She'd merely been taking her feelings out on him again, which bothered him less than when she avoided him for weeks trying to sort it out herself. Though, on second thought, maybe he could have been a little less antagonizing.
"Would it make you feel better if I decided not to owe you a favour?" suggested Harry.
She worried her lip. "Well…no. I think I put up a good fight, and I won fair and square." Her voice lowered. "Even if it was underhanded."
"Yes, it was," agreed Harry. "You'd almost think we were doing a Slytherin quest."
Both of them went to get their things, and Harry noticed with a frown that she staggered slightly while leaning over. More than anything, he was concerned about her admission she'd been thinking about jumping off cliffs. Maybe it was just an exaggerated, heat of the moment expression, but he still needed to check in with her when this was all over.
Once they got their things, the two of them walked through the quest door, which led into a dark forest. Dead leaves crunched beneath their feet as they assessed their surroundings, the pale moonlight shining through the trees. Something howled in the distance, long and loud, like it was in pain.
"Use the night vision spell," said Harry. "Nocto Vidus. That way we can see what we're up against."
She was silent a few moments, as if she didn't hear.
"Oh," she said, shaking her head. "Right."
She cast the spell on herself, then blinked and looked around, squinting to adjust her vision. "What is that?"
Harry cast the spell and checked where she was pointing. "I don't see anything."
"Right there, it looks like—"
Behind them, crunching leaves gave away an intruder. Harry glimpsed a large shape and sharp fangs, and cried, "Werewolf!"
The creature lunged, and Harry screamed a spell to repel it. But just then, the other creature Hermione spotted came crashing through the trees, along with its friends, chittering and screeching. Acromantula. They were joined by the remaining pack of howling werewolves, their jaws frothing with foam.
Uggh, again with the spiders? thought Harry. This is going overboard.
They had no choice but to go on the defensive. Harry and Hermione both cast shield spells, but with how violently the spiders beat against it, he didn't know how long they would hold. Harry was already sweating from strain—the duplication potion had drained his magic more than he'd thought. Standing at his back, Hermione slammed against him, gasping from the impact.
"Are you alright?" asked Harry.
"Yes," she said, but her voice was strained. "One of them almost got through, but I repelled him."
Harry glanced up, and saw there were some werewolves lunging to the top of their shields, trying to crawl down from above. That would make his "flying to safety" plan a lot more difficult. As Harry tried to think of another way out, Hermione touched his arm, "Drop your shield on three. I'm going to attack them. One…"
Harry turned to face her. "Wait, what are you doing?"
She was concentrating, practicing the wand movement. "Auror magic. Two…three!"
Harry dropped the shield, and the air around them burst like a fiery sonic boom, knocking the monsters back several paces while lighting them on fire. As their shrieks and stench filled the air, Hermione slumped against him, her eyes closed. Alarmed, Harry cast Innervate, but she didn't respond.
Clutching her against him, he launched into the air, fighting to make it above the treeline. Large black shapes swung out from branches, hurtling towards them, and Harry knocked them back with the blasting spell. He winced as the tail end of a branch whacked his cheek, and he moved his arm to protect Hermione's head.
Harry watched the sky with growing apprehension. As fast as he was going, he should have made it above the treeline by now. Yet the trees seemed to stretch on forever, the sky never getting closer.
His brain was trying to think of some creative way out of this situation. If they were both invisible, the monsters might be unable to sense them. He didn't have enough magic left to hide them both, but her cloak should be sufficient, if he could slow down enough to grab it.
As he searched for a resting place in the trees, a spider blindsided him. Harry swerved, but its prehensile legs latched onto Hermione's waist, wrenching her away and knocking his wand from his hand.
He shoved his hand into the pouch on his waist. "Spare wand!" he cried. His lungs were burning, a headache warning him not to push his magic any farther. As soon as the wand touched his hand, he burned a path through the trees and tore after them.
After a few moments, he saw Hermione, limp like a ragdoll in the werewolf's jaws. Panic raced through him at the thought she'd been poisoned, or her neck broken—but he shoved back his fears. Time for that later—he needed a clear head now.
Harry's pursuit ended in a clearing, where thousands of spiders congregated, chittering and screaming like demons. Hermione, wrapped in spider silk, hung from a low web strung between two monstrous trees. Below, the werewolves howled and paced beneath, while the spiders danced on the web, their legs rearing. It looked as though they planned to bleed her— an offering for their terrible feast.
He had played these games for years, and he'd gotten angry at the NPCs before. But Harry wasn't angry, oh no, he was far past that.
He wanted to burn, to destroy every last filthy creature that dared breathe in this place. Their forest would burn too, razed to ash. He'd destroy the game for hurting Hermione like this. With a cry of vengeance, Harry raised his wand, but the sight of something stopped him.
Within one of the monstrous trees, Harry saw the yawning gap of the open quest door. It was closing.
When Harry realized what was happening, he felt shocked. Then, furious.
This was a Sophie's choice scenario. If he went through the quest door, he would win the game and take the treasure. All he'd have to do was abandon Hermione.
Not permanently, of course, but for as long as it took to prevent the door from closing. He could put a rock inside to bolster it up, or there might be a switch he needed to pull. In either case, he would be losing precious seconds on a stupid door, while the spiders feasted on Hermione, sucking the blood out of her and injecting her with more poison.
Although…if he'd estimated correctly, it would take about 30 seconds to get to the door and block it. Even if the spiders did bite her within that time, she would regenerate any lost blood, and quickly metabolize the toxins. If she was still knocked out, she probably wouldn't remember anything. By the time she woke up, it would be like it had never happened at all.
Not to mention, this was a Hogwarts generated game, and the school wouldn't allow a student to die. Based on the difficulty level of this quest, he wagered that the prize would be quite exceptional.
He cast one look at the rapidly closing door, then another at Hermione, cold and pale, surrounded by monsters.
With a cry of rage, he jerked forwards, whipping through the air so fast it shrieked in his ears, and launched fireballs at the spiders. Screeching, the spiders crawled away, and Harry cast the cutting spell to slice Hermione free of the web. It did nothing, except send a shock of fire up his arm. Desperate, he gritted his teeth and pulled her, the pain in his arm blinding him.
In the distance, the clang of a gong sounded, long and low. They had lost the quest.
The forest fell away, the world covered in pitch black darkness. Lighting his wand, Harry could see they'd returned to a cave, but this time, there was no door. The sound of rain pattered outside, and Harry felt the dampness brush the hem of his robes. The web that bound Hermione had vanished, and as he set her down, he checked her for injuries.
There were none that he could see, no sign of bleeding. He watched her breathe, the rise and fall of her chest assuring him that she still lived.
Harry sat back, passing a hand over his face. He was shaking.
She's fine, reassured his brain. The spider web disintegrated, so the wolf bite and its toxins did too. She's not going to wake up a werewolf.
Harry checked his pouch for a pillow, but the best he had was a towel. He folded it, gently placing it under her head. As he sat there, mulling over her condition, his Slytherin side spoke up. Umm…sorry to disturb you, but I think you made a terrible mistake.
No. Shut up.
Harry tried to strangle Slytherin, but it kept talking. Hear me out. You see, even if Hermione had suffered both werewolf and spider bites, the better outcome would have been to win the quest. We would be free of this cave, and safely ensconced in the warmth of Hogwarts, where Madam Pomfrey could tend to both Hermione's magical exhaustion and possible injuries. Instead, here we are, trapped, miserable losers with no way to help her. Did I miss anything?
No, I think that about covers it, muttered Harry's brain.
In addition, continued Slytherin. We would be the proud owners of a quest prize—
Except that your theory doesn't cover the increased danger involved with accumulated injuries, or the fact that I might have failed the quest anyway. We could be trapped in here with a mangled, poisoned Hermione instead of an exhausted one. And please understand this part, because it's very important: I will absolutely, positively never allow Hermione to get hurt so we can win a game. Period. Now, shut up.
Ignoring his Slytherin side, Harry turned to check on Hermione again. She breathed deeply, untroubled in sleep, but she felt cool to the touch. He took off his warming charm, attached it to a spare robe from his pouch, and draped it over her. As if sensing the warmth, she sighed and tucked her chin under the robes, curling into them. Locks of hair clung to her forehead, drenched in perspiration. She was paler than usual.
What if she was bitten in the neck?
Harry frowned, slipping his hand behind there to check. Hermione could survive trauma to most parts of her body, even theoretically re-growing a detached limb, but her brain was still vulnerable. If she was bitten in just the right spot on her head or neck, it could prevent regeneration in the area, and she would die.
This vulnerability was kept secret from everyone, for obvious reasons, and the only reason he knew was because she told him.
He checked his watch, and they'd only been there for 15 minutes. They would be stuck for at least another half hour.
Harry started to fidget. He didn't care if he was overthinking it, he hated sitting around and doing nothing.
Then he remembered his Patronus. He drew his wand, shouting "Expecto Patronum!"
Nothing happened.
And then he remembered the cutting charm not working earlier.
Damn it, had he exhausted his magic, too?
He was digging through his bag for a Portkey—which probably wouldn't work if they were within the wards of Hogwarts—when Hermione stirred.
"Where am I?" she mumbled, blinking, then frowning at the near darkness. "Hello?"
"I'm here." Harry crouched beside her. "You were asleep. We lost the game and we're trapped in a cave for now. How do you feel?"
She rolled to face him, grimacing with the motion. "Not great. What happened? The last thing I remember, we were fighting monsters."
"You fell unconscious after casting a spell, most likely due to magical exhaustion. I tried to help us escape, but then you got captured and possibly bitten by a werewolf." He swallowed. "Are you feeling any…Lupine tendencies? Like a craving for meat?"
She rubbed her forehead, then sat up with a groan. "No, but I don't think that's likely…apparently my unicorn blood prohibits that particular toxin from taking hold." After swaying in place for a second, she closed her eyes. "I do feel tired, though."
"Lie down, it's okay," he said. "We'll be here a while."
Nodding, she lay back down, glancing at his robe and then pulling it up to her shoulders. "Why did we lose the quest? Is it because I passed out?"
Harry grimaced. "No, it's because the infernal game was rigged. I would have had to let the monsters get you in order to win"
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
Harry explained what happened, and she listened without comment. Then she turned to stare up at the dark fathoms of the rock cave. "That's strange."
"Yeah, no kidding. I don't know what kind of low-lifes that quest was designed for, since no one in their right mind would…" Harry trailed off. No need to get into a rage over it now.
"Hmm," said Hermione. She glanced over at him. "Thank you for saving me."
There passed about a minute of silence. Harry kept glancing over to see if she was sleeping, but she was staring at the top of the cave. He knew this was his chance to ask her about her "jumping off cliffs" comment, but he couldn't seem to find the words. He worried it would be stressful for her, and she already wasn't feeling her best.
No…that was an excuse. He was worried that he would be terrible at comforting her, and inevitably make it worse somehow. He swallowed. But he had to try, all the same. He was about to speak when Hermione turned to him.
"I want to ask you something," she said. "Let me know if you think you can help me."
She folded her arms over herself. "The day after Slughorn's dinner, I had a meeting with Minister Fudge and Madam Bones. It was a training course for Aurors, but I was the only Hogwarts student, so I think they made an exception for me. They gave us a test...well, more like a pre-test, and had us discuss the answers. Many of the people—including the Minister and Madam Bones—had very different opinions from me on the correct response. When I tried to argue my point, I was shut down. So, now I'm wondering what you think, Harry. Can you give me your insight on the questions?"
"Sure, I'll try," said Harry.
Hermione nodded and sat up, her gaze fixed on the far wall ahead of them. "One of the questions went like this. There is a Dark Wizard in custody who is suspected of murder, but only proven to have committed robbery. However, he is connected with a crime syndicate that is involved with ongoing terror attacks. The Aurors think this person has information that could help locate the leaders. How do you handle it?"
Harry thought for a moment. "That depends. Has he taken an unbreakable vow not to reveal the information?"
"It's unclear, though some magical means of binding him to secrecy is standard procedure for the syndicate. However, as I was informed, there's ways around that."
"How?" asked Harry.
"There's a type of bug called Pixie Worms, which look like glowing maggots. They're a parasite that latches onto magical creatures and slowly drains their magic. The group's suggestion was to threaten to stuff the bugs inside him, which would over a period of days leave him a Squib. If you have no magic, you can't be bound by a magical vow. They then suggested Veritaserum, or if that didn't work, torture, to get the information out of him.
"One of the problems was that Pixie Worms can burrow into a subject's brain, which would kill him. I said that since he's only been convicted of robbery, he isn't worthy of the death penalty, regardless of his affiliations. I thought maybe talking to him, persuading him to help in exchange for immunity, would be the first step." She let out a sigh. "Mad Eye Moody actually laughed at that."
"It's not a bad suggestion," said Harry. "Why did he laugh?"
"He said, 'You think he'll talk just because we ask him nicely? Azkaban is nothing compared to what his associates will do if they find out he squawked.'" Hermione frowned. "Apparently, witness protection doesn't work so well when magical tracking is involved. I tried to start a discussion about other strategies, but they all seemed to think the parasite bugs were the best solution. What do you think, Harry?"
He was quiet for a long moment. "I understand your dilemma, but there is no easy answer. It all depends on the situation. Have you heard of Pablo Escobar?"
"A little bit," said Hermione. "He's a drug dealer, right?"
"Not just any drug dealer," Harry said. "He was once the largest distributor of cocaine in the entire world, and head of a crime syndicate. When the authorities tried to stop him, he started a war in Columbia to protect his drug trade. He blew up government buildings and planes, shot up restaurants and bombed public areas, plunging his country into chaos. Those in power that he couldn't bribe into silence, he murdered in cold blood.
"Pablo became so powerful that, for a long time, the police couldn't touch him. They became desperate. A terrorist group began targeting anyone related to Pablo, ruthlessly executing them and displaying their bodies, and the police just…let it happen. They probably even supported them with weapons."
Harry paused a moment. "Those who were executed weren't always guilty. Some of them were innocent family members of Pablo and his men. Morality aside, the vigilante group's strategy worked. After a few months, Pablo and his organization were destroyed, and peace was restored to the country. That's a significantly better outcome than sacrificing thousands of innocent lives in a long, drawn out war, or allowing an unhinged tyrant to rain destruction down on the country."
Hermione shook her head. "I can see what you mean, but…it seems so evil. How can something so terrible be the only way?"
"I know," he sighed. "And perhaps you're right, and a more effective strategy could have been found. That's a question for the historians, I guess."
Harry shrugged. "Going back to your case. I think you're right to start from the least violent solution. If I were in your shoes, I would measure the probability of brain damage by using the parasite bugs, and weigh it against how long it would take to see results from another strategy. If you have only one hour to get information, then that can limit your options. I would consider granting immunity first, or some other means to bargain for cooperation. But in the end, if there was no better alternative, then I would do what is necessary to protect people."
"Even torture?" asked Hermione, her voice small.
"Yes, if it came down to it. To protect the innocent, I would have a moral obligation to do whatever it takes." She seemed so visibly shaken that Harry hastened to add, "Still, it's an extreme situation that would likely only happen during wartime. In most cases, I'm sure you could find far better and more effective solutions than violence."
It was a few moments after saying this that Harry realized he was being a hypocrite, since he'd made the decision to torture the spider without seriously considering any other strategy.
Hermione sighed, burying her face into her knees. She was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice sounded hollow. "One more question. There's a 19 year old man casting hexes on Muggles. Aurors arrive, and find him wandering the streets, deranged. How do you approach the situation?"
"Fire a sleep hex and take him to the hospital."
"They tried it, but he blocked the hexes. It's three in the morning, and he's threatening to blow up someone's house."
"Umm...so tie him up. Surely the Aurors can find some way to handle a 19 year old. Maybe throw some marbles in his way, and when he trips, catch him?" Hermione smiled, just a little. "Anyway, what was everyone's response?"
Hermione shook her head. "It wasn't a discussion, it was a visual simulation. That exact situation happened 17 years ago, with one of Voldemort's minions, and we both ended up with the same outcome. The Aurors yelled for him to put down his wand, but he kept raising his voice over theirs. Finally, he started casting a curse, and they killed him. His mother was screaming…and…"
"Oh...that's terrible," said Harry. Not to mention completely, totally preventable, if the Aurors had had an ounce of common sense.
Hermione swallowed, pressing a hand to her forehead. When she spoke, her voice trembled, "Maybe he was a bad person, and his death saved lives. I don't know. The other Aurors, they were talking about the incident, and I kept thinking, 'I could have saved him. If I'd been fast enough, or clever enough, or not afraid to get injured.' But everything was so tense, and happened so fast, I didn't think about it."
She moved her hand, her eyes red, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I'm not good at being an Auror, Harry. I keep making mistakes. But everyone is counting on me, and if we really do..." she bit her lip. "If the worst happens, then I should be there fighting alongside them. All these people look up to me, and are counting on me, but I'm so..." she hiccupped. "I'm so tired, Harry."
She started sobbing, and Harry reached for her. She buried her face in his robes, crying and shaking. Harry didn't know what to say, or what to do.
"I can't do this, Harry," she sobbed. "I can't."
He wanted to tell her she was wrong, to remind her how she could do anything she set her mind to. But some intuition told him not to say anything. He'd never seen her cry like this before, and he didn't know how long she'd been carrying this burden.
After a few minutes, when Hermione had calmed down, she lifted her face and wiped her eyes. "I must look awful," she said, laughing lightly. She looked down at his robes, grimacing. "I got your robes messy too."
She searched for her wand, but he placed his hand over hers. "I'll take care of it later."
Hermione glanced at him, a silent question. Then she leaned back into him, and his arms encircled her again. She rested her head on his shoulder, let out a sigh.
After a few moments, he said, "I'm not going to tell you what to do—I think that's your decision. But I know that whatever path you choose, you'll be more than capable. You're the greatest witch of your generation. By most standards, you're probably even better than me. And it's not just because you've got superpowers, or because you're intelligent. It's because you're dedicated enough that whatever obstacles you face, you will find a way to overcome them."
His voice softened. "But you aren't invincible, Hermione. You're still human, and you need to take care of yourself. Stop abusing your time turner, and get more sleep." It was a guess, but by the way she stiffened, he could tell he was right. "And when you're overwhelmed, ask for help. I'm your friend, so use me. I can take over your tutoring classes, or help you with your homework. And if you just want to talk, I'll drop everything to answer your call. So, please, let me do something to help you."
"Yeah…okay."
"Promise?"
"Yes," she said, then shifted to look at him, her eyes full of tenderness. "Harry, I'm…I'm really glad I talked to you about this. I was scared at first, because I thought you might not understand, but you really helped me." She sighed. "I finally feel like I can breathe again."
Harry's mind flashed back to when she shouted at him, pointing her finger and proclaiming, 'You're part of the problem!'
He frowned. "Why wouldn't I understand?"
"Well, umm…because we have different viewpoints about morality. I thought you might assume I was being too sensitive, or that I needed to be more rational. I was afraid you would just hurt my feelings."
That hit him like a kick in the gut. Is that really how you see me?
Hermione squeezed him in a little hug. "Thank you for being such a good friend. I don't know what I'd do without you." Then she tilted her head up and kissed his cheek.
Harry froze—it was so unexpected that he couldn't figure out the right response. He sat there like a robot, blinking, waiting for his brain to give him a command.
Hermione, sitting back on her heels, chuckled. "Darn. I was hoping you would say, 'No kissing.'"
With a jerk, Harry came back online. "Sorry to disappoint you. Maybe you should use a time turner and find younger Harry or something."
What…did you just say? declared his outraged brain.
She giggled—still close enough that she could kiss him again. It was making his stomach feel weird. He sat up straighter, and Hermione took the hint and leaned back to sit beside him. Harry got out his wand and cast Everto on his robes. He didn't think they really needed it, but it gave him something to do.
Finally, the door unlocked, letting in pale rays of light from the grey afternoon. Hermione stood up, and Harry kept an eye on her, just to make sure she didn't collapse. "We're going to Madam Pomfrey," he said.
Hermione smiled and nodded. It was drizzling, and the grass was damp and slippery. Harry linked arms with her—he wasn't taking any chances.
Her smile grew, and she giggled again.
"What?" asked Harry.
"Nothing," she replied. "I'm just happy."
In the light, he noticed a glow to her face that he hadn't seen before. Harry figured if his friend could be happy, in spite of all the trouble that quest had caused, then maybe he wasn't so bad at comforting people after all.
