A/N: Welcome back my dear readers! I know this is another chapter on the short side, I'm sorry. The next chapter should be back to the usual length, but I haven't actually started writing it yet, it's only planned out. We get some new POVs in this chapter, which I'm pretty excited about because I don't think I've done more than Bellatrix and Hermione for this story. If you want more, let me know.
Take care of yourselves, my dear readers, and I will update again by the end of April. Enjoy!
Inhale.
Hermione breathed in slowly through her nose.
Exhale.
She let the air in her lungs out through her mouth, trying to ignore the twitch in her brow.
It had been a few days since she had seen the vision of herself, no longer terrifying, but she had been unable to make her appear again. She was currently trying to meditate because the last time it had happened, she had been relaxed. It didn't seem to be working, though.
Hermione groaned, letting herself fall dramatically backward and splaying across her mattress. She stared up at the ceiling with her brown eyes, hoping that something would click. She wanted to do it alone, but she was a little afraid of what might happen. Maybe that was why she couldn't relax. Hermione reached for her wand, grimacing at the late hour as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She felt a little guilty about possibly waking Bellatrix, but something was nagging her and she wanted to know what it was.
As silently as she could, she pushed open the door to the older witch's room, poking her head in and finding her sitting by the window. "Bella?"
"You can't sleep either?" she asked, turning to look at her.
Hermione shook her head, hovering near the door and chewing her lip.
"You can come in, Hermione," she whispered, patting the spot next to her, "What's wrong?"
She sighed, brushing her hair away from her face. "I...I've been trying something, but it hasn't been working. I've...been trying to remember, but I can't seem to get in touch with that part of me. Last time, I was in the bath after destroying the Horcrux, but I haven't been able to get to that point again."
Bellatrix draped an arm over her shoulder, looking out the window as she mumbled. "Why do you think that is?"
"I don't think I'm relaxed enough," she answered, leaning her head on the older witch's shoulder.
"I think you're trying too hard. Remember, you can't force something like this."
Hermione frowned, staring out the window at the garden. "What should I do?"
Bellatrix smiled, standing and offering her a hand. "Come with me."
Blushing slightly, she placed her hand in Bellatrix's, shivering as the outside air touched her skin, even though it was warm. "What are we doing?"
"Don't talk," she whispered, placing her index finger on Hermione's lips, "Just be."
The brunette nodded and Bellatrix summoned her broom, mounting it and gesturing for Hermione to sit in front of her. She did, her cheeks heating up as she felt Bellatrix's arms around hers and her chest pressed into her back. The older with pushed off the ground, rising gently into the air. She waited until they were above the treeline to speak.
"When I need a moment, I come up here and just feel the air on my skin, the wind in my hair. It's best at night, I think, because I can look up and see the moon and the stars. I'm small compared to the world, we all are," she whispered in Hermione's ear, "But that doesn't mean I don't matter. That we don't matter. I'm named after a star, I'm made of stars. Everything I am and ever will be is right here around me. When I'm flying, I'm free."
Hermione leaned back into Bellatrix, looking up at the sky. The moon was half-full, bathing them in a silvery light. Stars twinkled overhead even with the light of the moon and Hermione leaned further back, trusting Bellatrix to keep her from falling. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply through her nose and relaxing against the older witch, who had wrapped an arm around her waist. Briefly, she considered turning and kissing the dark-haired witch, but decided not to push her luck on the broom.
They stayed up there in silence until Hermione shivered as a gust of wind blew by. She was beginning to understand what Bellatrix was saying and she felt...light. Bellatrix rested her chin on the brunette's shoulder, guiding them gently back to the ground. She let Hermione dismount first, banishing it back to the broom shed and offering her hand to the younger witch again.
"Thank you, Bellatrix," Hermione whispered when they appeared back in the dark-haired witch's room.
"Of course," she mumbled, brushing a strand of hair behind Hermione's ear, "I'm always here to help."
She nodded, chewing her lip as she rocked back and forth on her heels. "Can I stay the night?"
Bellatrix chuckled, one side of her mouth pulling upward. "I never mind."
Hermione smiled brightly, sliding under the blanket somewhat timidly. Bellatrix settled next to her, lying on her stomach and using her arms as a pillow. She yawned, her mass of black curls dancing as she moved her head. It didn't take long for her breathing to even out and Hermione was left awake. Soon, she was yawning, too, pulling the blanket securely around her and drifting off to sleep.
The door to the Room of Requirement looked different than it usually did during their practices. The three witches who stood in front of it knew why. Hermione tried not to look back at the two Black sisters she had grown closer to over the course of the year, knowing if she did, it would be even harder to leave. She knew she had to, knew it was time. With her hand on the knob, she cast a glance back at Andromeda and Bellatrix, offering a reassuring smile before looking back at the door. She turned the knob and stepped through into the darkness.
Hermione heard the door close behind her, although in the dark it was difficult to tell which direction she was facing. She was only assuming it was behind her because she had stepped through it. Were her eyes open or closed? Was she dead? She pinched her arm. Nope, definitely still alive. Maybe? Was she alive if she wasn't born? Light assaulted her and she shielded her eyes, blinking against it.
"Hello?" she called, squinting into the light.
She received no answer.
"Hello?!" she called again, a little annoyed.
Still no answer.
Hermione huffed, picking a direction and walking in it. She couldn't tell how long she had been walking before she came across a memory. It loomed in front of her like giant, flat TV, playing the memory of destroying the cup on a loop. As she watched it over and over again, more slowly manifested, creating a path of sorts. Intrigued, she followed it, observing her memories being played on repeat. A frown formed on her face as she watched some of the more disturbing ones. Would the new version of herself have to live with these?
She reached the end of the path and turned to look back at the winding path of memories. Hermione wasn't sure where she was, if she was. She did know that these memories needed to be kept from herself until she was older and able to handle it. So was she just a representation of the old Hermione, guarding these memories so her mind wasn't damaged? She knew she wasn't real, there was no possible way she could be. So she must be a sliver of consciousness transferred to her new self to safeguard her.
Hermione bolted upright with a gasp, sweat glistening on her forehead. Bellatrix stirred next to her, sliding anarm around her waist.
"What's wrong, darling?" she mumbled without opening her eyes.
"Just a dream," she whispered hoarsely, "You can go back to sleep."
Bellatrix yawned before asking, "You sure?"
"Mhm." She stroked the older witch's dark curls gently.
"Mkay," she mumbled with a yawn, quickly sinking back into sleep.
Hermione smiled down at her, her form barely visible with the hint of moonlight slipping through the curtain. She looked up, inhaling sharply through her nose when she saw herself casually leaning against the wall.
"Are you ready to remember?" she asked, her voice sounding loud in the quiet room.
The brunette nodded, one hand still nestled in Bellatrix's hair.
"Think about what you want to know," she instructed, taking a few steps closer, "And make sure your notebook is ready."
Hermione summoned the leather bound journal and a quill. She opened up to a blank page, the quill in her hand. When she looked up again, the vision of herself was right next to her, hands clasped behind her back much like Dumbledore did sometimes.
"Got it?" she asked.
She nodded once more, readying herself for what she might see. An incorporeal finger touched her forehead, drawing the memory to the forefront of her mind. She shivered as cold engulfed her, clenching her teeth to keep them from chattering. Cold sweat broke out on her forehead as her eyes moved behind closed eyelids, taking in everything the memory had to offer.
When it was over, the vision of herself pulled her finger away, fading for the time being. Hermione felt warmth return to her body and quickly set about writing down what she had remembered. She stifled her yawns until she was finished, closing her notebook and setting it on the nightstand with the quill teetering on the edge. Bellatrix had tightened the arm around her waist and she lowered herself back down, turning onto her side and nuzzling into her collar. Hermione wasn't sure how she was comfortable, half on her stomach and half on her side, but it didn't seem to bother her at all.
Bellatrix woke up curled around Hermione, her arm protectively wrapped around the younger witch's waist. The brunette's back was to her and her face was buried in a pillow. She smiled as she pulled away, freezing when a noise of complaint left the still sleeping witch. Hermione immediately relaxed again when she stopped, and the older witch sighed softly.
"Hermione, darling," she whispered into her shoulder.
"Nooo," she groaned breathily, "You were gone for two whole days. And I won't get any of this when school starts."
Bellatrix chuckled, her breath tickling Hermione's shoulder. "Perhaps you shouldn't get too used to it, then."
Hermione turned in her arms, furrowing her brow as she asked, "Do you not want me here?"
"That's not at all what I meant," she whispered, tightening her arm around her waist, "Trust me, I want you in bed with me every night for the rest of my life. It's going to be so difficult to go back."
"I know that I shouldn't stay, but I just can't help myself. I want to be with you." She traced the planes of Bellatrix's face as she spoke, a faint smile on her face.
The older witch reached up, clasping Hermione's hand in her own. "I want to be with you, too, Hermione. I waited 30 years to see you again."
"Explain to me how the whole age thing works again?" she asked, threading their fingers together and using her other arm as a pillow.
"So, when a person's magical core is detected for the first time, a record is created for them. Your core is still the same as the version of you that traveled back. Your record begins in 1965." She shifted so she was more comfortable. "But, the ministry only takes into account birth records, and the time you gained when using the Time-Turner in your third year, so as far as they're concerned, you're 16. The magical tracing doesn't actually get checked unless someone is looking for it."
"Like you did," Hermione interjected.
"Right," she nodded, "If someone were to notify the ministry of the discrepancy, because Rodolphus clearly didn't, then they would factor that in and adjust your recorded age. So you would be maybe 23 instead. Or something like that. They wouldn't actually notify you of the update to your record until after you graduate, though. The reason I say Rodolphus didn't notify anyone is because I didn't access your records until after he was imprisoned, and they weren't adjusted."
Hermione hummed, chewing her lip. "Last night when I woke up, it was because I was dreaming about what happened after I walked through the door to the Room of Requirement. Or maybe it was a memory, I'm not sure."
"It somehow preserved a sliver of your consciousness that contains all the memories from that timeline. And then it transferred it to you when you were born. The magic of Hogwarts is almost...sentient. It's ancient and a lot of knowledge on it doesn't exist anymore." Bellatrix brushed a curl behind Hermione's ear with their linked hands.
"The only memories I actually get to keep are of you. The rest still disappear after I write them down," she whispered, her cheeks taking on a pink hue as Bellatrix's fingers brushed her ear.
"Did you remember something last night?" Bellatrix asked, smiling at her reaction.
Hermione nodded, twisting to reach for her notebook on the nightstand. She sat up, opening it on her lap. Bellatrix looked up at her, grabbing a pillow and shoving it under her head while she waited.
"Here," Hermione said, her finger resting on the page, "The diadem. It was in the Room of Hidden Things. And destroyed by Fiendfyre. We nearly got killed, but that seems to have been a common occurrence. I don't understand though, how come some things are still the same? Lucius was the one to give Ginny the diary the first time, but he was in Azkaban this time."
"I wouldn't be surprised if Pettigrew played a part in that," the older witch answered, "He could've snuck it into her trunk, he was masquerading as their pet."
"But wouldn't that mean he somehow has communication with Voldemort? What if they're planning something this year, too?" the brunette asked.
Bellatrix hummed, stroking Hermione's hair. "Tonks and Moody are still trying to track him down. They won't stop looking. And I'll be there all year to keep an eye on things."
"What about the ministry?" Her voice was small as she spoke.
"Depends on who it is," she shrugged, "But I'm not going to let that stop me from doing my job."
Hermione nodded, lying back down and burying her head in Bellatrix's shoulder. "I don't want to get up."
"Let's stay in bed," Bellatrix suggested.
"Cissa won't like that," she pointed out.
The older witch shrugged. "I don't care, both of us need to relax."
The brunette stifled a yawn, her eyelids feeling heavy. She pressed the tip of her nose against Bellatrix's collarbone, humming as fingers ghosted over her shoulders. Bellatrix rolled so she was on her back, bringing Hermione with her. She placed one hand on the small of her back and wrapped her other arm around her waist. Hermione felt her cheeks heat up as her hips settled between Bellatrix's legs, wondering if this was a good position for them to be in. Another wave of exhaustion washed over her and she found herself caring less and less as she relaxed into the older witch.
Bellatrix woke before Hermione, the younger witch's hair tickling her cheek. She smoothed brown hair down, smiling absently as she allowed her thoughts to wander. Over the last two days, she had been trying to track down Hufflepuff's cup. She had gone back to Azkaban to speak with Lucius and try to discover something. It had been a semi-successful attempt. He hadn't been in the most coherent state, but she had been able to get something out of him. It had been mostly fragmented sentences, and she had puzzled over it as she rowed slowly back to Dumbledore.
He had never heard of the cup itself, but he had heard about a precious artifact to Voldemort. Based on its importance and the fact it was the only Horcrux that was different so far, she surmised that it had to be the cup. Dumbledore had agreed when she told him, and she had been sent with Kingsley to the abandoned Riddle Manor to search for anything that might be of use. The once-great property had been neglected for decades, the grounds overgrown and the manor weathered and a tad unstable. The wrought iron gate had rusted and was falling off its hinges, requiring nothing more than a light push to let them pass.
There had mostly been broken furniture and long-abandoned portraits, covered in dust so thick it was hard to breathe. It had taken her and Kingsley the rest of the day to search the house for anything that might be useful. The only lead they had was a deteriorating map in one of the studies. It was newer than everything else in the manor by maybe half a decade. They had taken great care in preserving it as it was so they could transport it with them back to Grimmauld Place.
The second day she had been away from home was spent hunched over the map, comparing it to ones in the countless books in the library. It had been a tedious task, but Dumbledore had asked her to do it because she had keen eyes. None of the maps that were in any of the books had matched, which had been a source of enormous irritation for her until she realized that the map was entirely unlike any of the magical maps she had ever come across. Which meant only one thing in her mind. It had to be a Muggle map. She had ventured to the public library and scoured through every map she could find.
Bellatrix chuckled a little to herself as she remembered the librarian having to ask her to leave so they could close for the day. She had been reluctant to listen to him but decided it wouldn't be worth the effort to stay. It had been as she was collecting the books scattered about her and placing them on his cart that she had dropped one that she hadn't had a chance to look at yet. Rather fortuitously, it appeared to be a match to the one Kingsley had found in the Riddle house. After he- reluctantly- helped her make a copy of the map, she had returned to Grimmauld Place and gone straight up the stairs.
Upon comparing the photocopy of the map from the book to what she could make out on the one they had found, she determined they were close enough to be considered a match. She had spent an hour reconstructing the map they had recovered, a few areas of heavy wear drawing her attention. It was in these areas that she suspected the Horcrux might be hidden. At that point, Dumbledore had told her to go home and rest.
Bellatrix was drawn out of her thoughts when Hermione released a soft sigh, her slender hands moving over her shoulders. The older witch rubbed her back, stifling a yawn. She wasn't sure what time it was, but she couldn't reach her wand to check without waking Hermione, so she let it be. Her eyes closed peacefully as she returned to her thoughts, this time about Hermione.
The brunette had appeared in her life when she needed it most. She had taught her how to possess a Gryffindor's courage, had made her realize how much more there was to life. And just as quickly as she appeared, she had disappeared with the promise to return one day. Bellatrix would be lying if she said doubt hadn't crept in on occasion. Sometimes she would forget that she could talk to Andromeda about the witch that had enraptured her on sight. It was in those moments where she wondered if she had made it all up.
Once her father was out of the picture, her faith was firmer. She was barely 17 when she had challenged him for the family title. He had nearly won, too, but she had more to lose, so she fought with everything she had. She recovered from the duel over the course of three days, her injuries and the drain on her magic from the feat more taxing than she had been prepared for. As soon as she was strong enough, her first decree as head of the family had been to banish her mother and father from the manor and cut them off from the fortune, with the exception of a monthly allowance and one of the lesser-used properties.
Before Narcissa could finish Hogwarts, they had died. Part of her felt guilty for being happy they had shed their mortal coils. The remaining part of her knew that it would've happened at some point, anyway. Voldemort's rise and subsequent fall had made the years leading up to Hermione's birth pass quickly, and most of the time she was too busy to stop and think about the witch for longer than a passing moment. She never stopped missing her, though.
"Bella," Hermione breathed, burying her face in her collar.
"What's wrong, darling?" she whispered, threading a hand into her hair and scratching her scalp.
The brunette hummed as she melted into her. "Not comfy anymore."
"You look pretty comfy to me," Bellatrix teased.
"Back hurts," the brunette mumbled.
"Go on and get comfy, then, and you can tell me where you want me," she whispered, extricating her hand from her hair and loosening the arm around her waist.
Hermione pouted as she pushed herself up, her eyes still filled with sleep. "I like having you under me, though."
Bellatrix laughed, brushing her fingers over Hermione's eyelids. "And there will be plenty of opportunities for that once you're of age and I'm not your professor."
A sleepy frown formed on her face as she scrunched her eyebrows together. She muttered something unintelligible as she moved next to Bellatrix and faced away from her. She raised one of her arms, silently beckoning for Bellatrix's arm to wrap around her. The dark-haired witch happily complied, pressing her front flush against the younger witch and draping an arm around her waist, using the other as her pillow.
"Much better," Hermione sighed, going limp as she fell back asleep.
Bellatrix rested her chin on the top of Hermione's head, her eyes closing and her breathing evening out.
Narcissa huffed in annoyance as she made her way from the Dining Room up the stairs to the corridor where their rooms were. She knocked on Hermione's door first, waiting about a minute before she opened the door. The room was empty of the brunette, and she pivoted on her heel to face her sister's door.
She knocked again, not receiving an answer. She opened the door a crack, finding both witches fast asleep. Bellatrix was curled around Hermione protectively, snoring gently. The brunette was sleeping with her mouth open, a touch of drool coming out of her mouth.
Rolling her eyes affectionately, she quietly shut the door. Bellatrix must've gotten back sometime last night and Hermione must've had trouble sleeping again. She had noticed the bags forming under Hermione's eyes over the past few days but hadn't pried. The two of them clearly needed rest because Bellatrix normally always woke up even with a soft knock.
"Hermione and Bellatrix will be spending the day resting," she announced to Draco, "So is there anything you'd like to do?"
"Could we spend the day collecting potion ingredients?" he asked after a bite of bacon.
She smiled gently at him. "That sounds wonderful. I've been needing to replenish some of my stores."
After breakfast, the two went out into the garden, carrying baskets and vials. For about two hours, they collected bark, petals, leaves, sap, stems, and roots from the various plants Narcissa kept in the garden. The blonde had always insisted on growing her own ingredients when she could, although she occasionally had to pop into the apothecary for ingredients that came from creatures. She tried to obtain everything she needed from ethical sources, avoiding Knockturn Alley completely when it came to potions ingredients and preferring to obtain supplies from people she trusted. In return, she provided them with ingredients from plants or just paid them outright.
Draco, for his part, hadn't realized how many of the plants in the garden his mother used for potions ingredients. To be fair, he had only recently learned about her love of potions, but half the plants in the garden he thought were purely decorative. He wondered why some of the ingredients they collected he had never heard of before. He couldn't ever recall Snape requiring them to use blood rose stems. Or wisteria root.
"Mum?" he asked as she meticulously labeled jars.
"Yes, Draco?" she mumbled.
"How come I've never heard of so many of these before?" He turned a jar of dried dragon's blood moss in his hands.
She gently removed the jar from his grasp, setting it back on the shelf. "I experiment with these. A lot of them have stabilizing properties without changing the effect of the other ingredients. Others enhance or diminish certain ingredients to make things less or more potent. The dried dragon's blood moss enhances the innate properties of Lethe river water, making forgetfulness potions stronger, while wisteria root diminishes the effect of almost any ingested toxins."
"Did you learn this at Hogwarts? All we do is brew potions that Snape tells us to. He gives us the recipes and we make them." Draco watched her place the blood rose stems into a cloudy liquid and quickly seal the jar.
"No, I discovered a lot of this in rare books or on my own. I'm fortunate enough to have been born into a family where I can spend time and money on my hobby rather than having to work. A lot of my discoveries I've documented in journals, but I've yet to share them with anyone." Narcissa stuck the label on the jar, placing it on the shelf before the dried dragon's blood moss.
He nodded, leaning closer to read a label. "Why not be an Unspeakable and do this?"
She shrugged. "Well, when I was married to Lucius, he insisted I stay home. There was no need for me to work, and it would bring shame on him if his wife was employed. And after he was arrested, I didn't want to join the ministry because of my association with him. He is still my husband and I think some people might take issue with me for that."
"Even though Aunt Bella is your sister?" he asked.
"That's the thing. Am I more loyal to my husband, whom I made a vow to, or am I more loyal to my sister, whom I'm bound to by blood? Some people will say the latter, some the former. They are not interested in what I might tell them," she explained.
He nodded again. "I can't believe I never knew how much you liked to brew potions. There were so many signs. The garden, the visits to people with creatures, all your books. It was all right under my nose. Is there anything else I should know about you, mum?"
"Just that I will always choose Bella over your father. Choosing her means choosing you," she murmured, pulling him into a hug.
She hadn't realized how much he had grown even over the summer. Already, he was taller than she was and her head could rest comfortably on his shoulder.
"And I'll always choose you," he whispered, tightening the embrace.
Tonks ran a hand through her pink hair, heaving a sigh of annoyance. She could feel Moody's eye move to observe her and she frowned. They had been following lead after lead and they all ended the same.
"I'm getting tired of coming up empty, Mad-Eye," she grumbled.
"You're not the only one," he muttered gruffly, his walking stick rhythmically tapping the ground as they moved.
She sighed again, the pink of her hair darkening into more of a red. "What if we don't find him before he brings back Voldemort?"
"I don't know," he muttered, shaking his head, "We must be vigilant. We'll find him eventually."
"Will we?" she grumbled under her breath, holding the door to Grimmauld Place open for her partner.
He didn't respond, grunting as he squeezed past her and through the door. Tonks cast a glance around as she closed the door, running a hand through her now-pink hair. They had been pursuing Pettigrew for 7 months now and still hadn't managed to detain him. Each lead they followed felt like a wild goose chase and she wondered if someone was planting them to keep them busy. It seemed ridiculous, but her partner always stressed the need for constant vigilance. Tonks wasn't sure if it was justified worry or if she was just being paranoid.
As she sat at the table with tea in hand, Kingsley entered the kitchen, his robes slightly askew and dirt on his cheek. "How goes the hunt?"
"Dead ends, as usual," she answered into her cup, "How goes yours?"
He sighed as he lowered himself into a chair. "Nothing on my end, yet. Remus should be back from the other locations soon."
"Did you run into trouble?" she asked, propping her feet up on a chair.
"Just a soft spot in the ground," he chuckled, "Threw me for a loop, but I'll live."
"Never took you for the clumsy type," Moody grumbled in an attempt at humor, "That's usually Tonks's job."
Tonks slid her feet off the chair planting them firmly on the ground and announcing, "I'll have you know I haven't bumped into anything once today."
"The day isn't over yet," Kingsley pointed out, directing the statement into his newly acquired mug of tea.
The pink-haired witch huffed good-naturedly, rolling her eyes. They fell into a comfortable, tired silence, sips of tea puncturing it occasionally. They tended not to talk too much about their activities now that Harry and Ron were at Grimmauld Place more often. Dumbledore had maintained that they weren't ready to know what was going on. Both with Hermione and the Order, even though they had asked on multiple occasions. Tonks thought it was odd that they had asked everyone but Hermione what was going on. The last time the brunette had been here, they had ignored her attempts at conversation, though that had been a few days ago and maybe they had finally had a change of heart.
"Why do you all look so glum?" Remus asked cheerily as he entered the kitchen, holding something behind his back, "Don't you have faith in me?"
"Did you find it?" Tonks asked, abandoning her mug.
With a glance behind him, he nudged the door with his foot to close it. Smiling victoriously, he revealed Helga Hufflepuff's cup, larger than any of them expected and covered in dirt.
"Dumbledore is on his way," he whispered, placing it on the table, "With the sword."
"Who's going to destroy it?" Moody barked.
"I was going to give Bellatrix the opportunity," Dumbledore spoke as he entered and closed the door, "But Narcissa has informed me that she is resting. I may have pushed her harder than I thought. Does anyone want to volunteer?"
Tonks nodded, standing up. "I think I should do it."
"Very well," Dumbledore said, holding the sword out to her.
She took it, surprised by how much lighter it was than she thought. The pink-haired witch adjusted her grip, eyeing the cup warily. How would it defend itself from being destroyed? Did she dare imagine it? It didn't matter. She couldn't allow the sliver of Voldemort's soul to continue residing inside the relic of her house founder. She couldn't allow any shred of him to survive the war they were fighting.
In a slightly clumsy arc, Tonks swung the sword of Gryffindor, managing to make contact with the cup. At first, nothing happened, and everyone waited with bated breath for something. Seconds later, the liquid that was in their teacups splashed over the rims and spilled onto the table. It formed into a face with its mouth open in a silent scream before evaporating into steam.
"Is that?" Tonks stammered, "Did it work?"
"I'm...not sure," Dumbledore frowned, "Perhaps the inherent goodness of Helga Hufflepuff made the darkness of Voldemort weaker and prevented the defense from being triggered."
Glances were exchanged by the people in the room before Remus whispered, "Should we ask Hermione if this happened the other time?"
Dumbledore stroked his beard in consideration. "It wouldn't hurt to be sure. Although I believe she is also resting today and it would not do well to disturb her. I hadn't planned on another meeting until after school has begun, perhaps we should wait until then. She is under enough pressure as it is. For now, we will continue forward with the information we have."
"Are you worried, Albus?" Kingsley asked.
"I fear that certain events are destined to happen no matter how much the timeline was interfered with. We must be prepared for the potential event that Voldemort may have gained an advantage he did not have before. If he knows of or learns of Hermione, he may find a way to get to her and use her knowledge to win," he mumbled.
Moody scoffed and grumbled, "You say the way Bellatrix reacted to Sirius wanting to force the memories out of Hermione. In the presence of a Horcrux or not, Bellatrix would do anything in the world to keep Hermione safe."
"Voldemort would exploit her weakness for Hermione. He'd make it so the only option Hermione has to live is Bellatrix letting him take her," Dumbledore mused, "If he does return before we are ready, she may be in more danger than she realizes."
"So we make sure he doesn't," Tonks said, "We've only got three Horcruxes left, two before we're ready for him to return."
"But how are we supposed to track down his familiar?" Remus pointed out, "We've no idea where to even start looking."
Kingsley shifted in his chair, fidgeting with his robes. "I think if we find Pettigrew, we may find the snake."
"We don't know that for certain," Moody grumbled, "We may have to let Voldemort return with two Horcruxes intact."
"Which is where my concern for Hermione stems from. It will be much harder for us to destroy Nagini if he returns, giving him time to make a plan." The Headmaster shifted his weight. "I want to be prepared, but I do not want to concern her with this."
"She's smart enough to have considered it, I'm sure," Remus added, "Perhaps we should include her."
Dumbledore frowned slightly. "And if she hasn't?"
"I think she's more capable than any of us. Part of her has already been through this war, and it went much worse than it's going now. And if she hasn't considered it, as long as Bellatrix is there to calm her down, it will be fine," Andromeda said, inserting herself into the conversation she had heard the tail end of from outside the door as she entered, "Also, you should silence the room next time. Just in case there are eavesdroppers."
"Mum," Tonks said, her lips twitching up slightly, "How long were you listening?"
Andromeda's lips twitched upward in response. "Don't make the mistake of keeping this from her, Albus. I think it's something you would do in her original timeline, and she changed things to give you the chance to do things the right way. You've already been keeping the truth from Harry, which is understandable, but Hermione is not the child she seems."
The wizard let out a weary sigh, deflating a little and betraying his increasing age. "Very well. We will discuss it more at the next meeting after school has started."
"Rest up, Tonks. Tomorrow, the search continues," Moody said gruffly, pushing himself up with a grunt.
She nodded to his back, glancing over at her mum who smiled and inclined her head to the door. Tonks sighed tiredly, her hair becoming a little dull as she followed Andromeda to the floo. Finding Pettigrew was becoming increasingly important and stayed just as difficult as it had always been. Andromeda placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder as she stepped into the floo, squeezing reassuringly before letting go. As soon as it was clear, she followed suit, smiling at the sight of Ted in the kitchen cooking and her daughter sitting at the table pestering him about what he was making. For a moment, it was just like when Nymphadora had been small. But the weight of the war weighed heavily on all of their shoulders, making the scene more solemn than it ever should have been.