Unexpected Care:

Two days had gone by. Two, terribly long, horrible days. He hadn't slept. At least until Mad-Eye had caught him staring, unblinkingly, in the dead of night, tracing the cracks along the kitchen wall. Mad-Eye had slipped him a draught of sleep, and Harry drank it, willingly, hoping it would take his mind away. But even in a dreamless sate, there was nothing to be done but stew over the parchment crumpled in his hands.

Help.

A single world. A glance was all it took to read and still it burned in his gaze like letters spelled of bright, burning flames.

Help.

The word was scrawled on the tiniest scrap of parchment, torn as though in a hurry, with shaky black lines, messy, yet unmistakably Hermione's.

No one would tell him anything. Not until he calmed down, they said, looking at him with pity and speaking as though he was the same little boy who'd just lost his godfather. They didn't know him anymore, who he was, or what he was capable of—how if he so pleased, he could rip the information he wanted straight from their heads. It wasn't their fault, he understood, it's just the way it was. They couldn't have known. Perhaps if they did, they would look at him with more fear.

His wand burned furiously in his hand.

It had been hours since Harry woke up, and the after effects of the draught had started to pass. Despite a lingering grogginess, Harry could hear muffled voices rumbling from the ground floor, the sound of an impromptu meeting.

Walking down the main staircase the voices grew sharper and amongst them he could hear new voices, though he already knew that.

The Fidelius was a strange charm. Staying here, in Grimmauld Place, even for a few hours, he had begun to feel the secret inside him, heavy and powerful. In the time he had to himself the past few days, trying to keep his mind from Hermione, Harry spent hours attempting to understand its effect on him.

Months had gone by since Dumbledore passed on the secret and he hadn't thought twice about it, but since returning, it was as though the spell rejuvenated. It weighed on him. Around the house he could almost feel the presence of those who shared his secret, and at the moment he could feel a few more.

"…can't keep him in the dark… have to tell him…"

Snippets of conversation sneaked past the door to the dining room, growing clearer as he approached.

"You haven't seen him… not safe…"

"You saw what happened to Sirius…"

"I get that he's Harry Potter… never got that sense from him, he's just a kid."

"This isn't up for debate, the senior members are in agreement—"

Harry opened the door and the conversation cut off immediately. He could feel the pressure of dozens of eyes on him, and heard a few sharp intakes of breath. It seemed he was right, there was a meeting happening.

Lining up around the room, sitting in old chairs and leaning against the dark, musty walls, were members of the Order of the Phoenix. Most of the faces he recognized, but there were a number that he did not. It was a very familiar scene, one that took him back to the summer he'd spent here and where he first learned of the resistance against Voldemort. Scanning the assembled crowd, his eyes stopped on those of a ghost, steely grey and haunting. He couldn't look away.

"Wotcher, Harry." The ghost spoke, and the spell over Harry snapped. Standing at the end of the long oak table, her hands planted flat against it, clearly in the middle of an argument, was Tonks. Her eyes… they're just like his.

Harry smiled. "It's so good to see you, Tonks."

"Well, Potter is here now, might as well finish our conversation," someone said from beside Tonks, and Harry glanced over to see Auror Fardale.

Flicking out his wand and conjuring a cushioned seat, Harry reclined, looked around the room and said, "I heard my name from outside, I'm assuming I'm right in thinking this has to do with Hermione." No one said anything for a moment. "And that you are set on not telling me."

"Not everyone is," Tonks snorted from across the table.

"It is not in the Order's best interests—"

"What happened to her?" Harry asked, cutting Kingsley off.

"Harry, please…" Mr. Weasley said placidly from the side.

"What happened to her." Harry repeated, staring at the two men.

"Hermione was taken," Mr. Weasley relented, looking horribly in pain at the thought of what he'd just said.

"Taken? By Voldemort I'm guessing," he said calmly, though his heart was thumping like a drum in his chest.

Mr. Weasley nodded, his face green. "We thought the worst when we couldn't find her after Hogwarts. There was no word from her, no sign, and we've been mostly blind since losing our contact with the Death Eaters."

Snape, Harry cursed the name. He hated the thought of how much they used to rely on him and his information.

"That was until a couple of months back," Mr. Weasley continued, and Harry felt himself lean forward.

"She escaped?" Harry could hardly keep the hope from his voice.

"It could be, we're not sure exactly. Word came in a few months ago that a body was found outside Hogsmeade station. It was Auror Fardale actually who recognized her."

Harry turned to Fardale and saw Tonks squeeze his shoulder as stood. "I was working guard at St. Mungo's when we were notified that someone was found. It's not that uncommon, there's a lot of missing people nowadays and some of them turn up eventually. What was strange is that we were put on high alert. There were about six of us there when some girl was brought in and had to stand guard by her room. I only recognized her later when I came home that night, from when I escorted you to King's Cross last summer.

"I was planning on sneaking in to the room when I was on guard the next day, to see her, and maybe figure out what happened, but when I got there, I found out that I was moved last minute to Hogsmeade. I was suspicious, only new recruits are sent to Hogsmeade, so I asked around the department a bit when I got off work and found out my reassignment came straight from the Minister's office that morning."

"Scrimgeour suspects that you are part of the Order," Harry said.

"Well he isn't wrong, is he?" Fardale laughed.

"Where is she now?" Harry asked.

"I think that's enough." Kingsley cut in before Fardale could answer.

"No, that's not enough. I have a right to know where she is, she's my friend."

"We all have friends, Harry, and we all care for Hermione, deeply, but we can't compromise the Order. We can't—"

"Trust me," he finished. Harry could feel the familiar itch of the Elder Wand as anger swelled within him. "I am a member of the Order. I have a right to know. I have more of a right than any of you. This is my house. I'm letting you stay here. I'm the bloody secret keeper!"

"I told you, this will be just like it was with Sirius," Tonks said from across the room. "I don't know about you, but I don't plan on it ending the same way. Tell him."

The room stunk of tension, everyone was silent and frozen to their spot.

Kingsley's face was as still as stone, giving nothing away as the room waited. Finally, he turned to Arthur, who only shook his head, "Harry should know."

"What about Alastor?" Kingsley asked quietly.

"I'll tell the ol' lump when he gets back," said Tonks.

Outnumbered, yet clearly unhappy, Kingsley nodded to Fardale.

"She's still in St. Mungo's somewhere," he revealed. "I'm quite close with a few people on the force, and all they know, or at least all they can tell me, is that she's still there and the Minister wants something with her."

"What does he want?"

"We don't know. All I could find out is he has his own people watching over her, and he personally visits St. Mungo's at least once a week."

The rest of the meeting passed rather quickly. Harry tuned himself out after Fardale had finished speaking, his mind whirling with the new information. There was so much for him to do already, but hearing this, it was more important than anything. He needed to save Hermione. Some dark haired witch in the corner had only just finished her report when the meeting was called to a close and Harry left for his room upstairs.

He knocked, there was no answer. Ron was still gone. He hadn't seen his friend all day. However, sitting on his bed, beneath a makeshift perch they had constructed for Hedwig out of old textbooks and a wire hanger, was a scrawny barn owl. Lifting its leg, Harry removed a role of parchment and took it to the window to read in the light.

I had forgotten what it was like to feel British soil beneath my feet, such sweet memories does it return to me. There is a rich history of Magic that hails from these isles, I feel like my stay will be a prolonged one. I have acquired temporary accommodations, but they will not be suitable for long. I await your response.

It was a brief message, unaddressed and unsigned, but unquestionably from Grindelwald. Harry cursed underneath his breath, summoning a spare quill and inking out a response on the other side of the parchment. Everything has to come at once, doesn't it? He had to deal with Hermione first before getting involved with Grindelwald again, but this was certainly forcing the issue.

Harry had only just tied his response to the patiently waiting owl and sent it off through the window, when there was a sharp knock on the door. It opened as he was putting away his quill.

"Potter? You in here?" Harry spun around to see Fardale poking his head around the corner, spotting Harry fairly quickly, "Ah, good, I was hoping I'd catch you in here." The Auror gently closed the door, slipping in quietly. "How are you feeling?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"I'm feeling well, thanks," Harry answered, unsure of why the man was in his room, attempting to make small talk. "Did you get sent here to warn me away from doing something stupid?"

"Actually, I sort of came here to do the opposite." Fardale checked over his shoulder at the closed door before stepping further into the room, looking almost sheepishly at Harry. "I'm here to help."

"To help?" Harry peered at him over the rim of his glasses.

"Of course, someone is going to need to help you break your friend out of St. Mungo's. It might as well be me." Fardale laughed and propped Ron's trunk against the wall to sit on. "Tonks has told me a lot about her cousin, and if the stories about Sirius Black and his friends are true, then as his godson, as well as being a Potter, I know you're about to do something crazy."

Harry nodded, seeing no reason to deny it. "And you're telling me that you have no issue joining me?"

"I have issues, sure." Fardale shrugged and put his feet up on Ron's bed. "But so long as we're not just running in there, and we do this smartly, with a plan, I see no problem."

"Why?" It was a serious question. Harry wouldn't proceed or say anymore without an answer.

Fardale sighed. "I can't just say that it's because I like you? Shame, I guessed not." Fardale laughed again, somewhat awkwardly this time. "In truth, it's because I love Tonks, and Tonks loves you. I'm the one who was there for her after her cousin died and her heart was broken by another man, and I'm the one who had to pick up the pieces after she came to work one morning and saw someone who looked like you literally melting before her eyes. She can still hardly believe it's really you, so if you follow up this resurrection with actually getting yourself killed, then I will never be able to forgive myself for doing nothing. And since I know you're going through with this no matter what, then I better be the one to help you."

"Clearly if you know what I'm about to do and are planning on joining it, then Tonks will find out too. If it's so dangerous she'll stop me herself."

"No she won't, because I won't tell her. She thinks I've come in here to warn you away from this all. It's better I beg for her forgiveness afterwards then risk the chance of her wanting to join us."

"Why can't she join us?" Harry asked, confused. "We could definitely use her."

"That's… she just can't, okay." Fardale looked rathe flustered all of a sudden. "I'll tell you after we get back, trust me."

"Alright, Fardale, I will for now." Harry extended his hand.

The Auror across from him shook it and smiled, "Call me Heath, Harry, you are my coconspirator after all."

The door to the bedroom suddenly opened again, with much less care compared to when Fardale had entered. Trudging through the door was Ron, who stopped suddenly and was looking between the two of them.

"What's he doing here?" Ron asked, looking intently at the feet resting on his pillow. Fardale removed them in a flash.

"Never mind that," Harry said, "I found out about Hermione."

The surprise vanished off of Ron's face, his features suddenly drawing into a serious expression. "So did I," he replied, "she's in St. Mungo's."

"How do you know about that? Only a select part of the Order has been told and we only found out through the Aurors." It was Fardale who spoke, standing up suddenly out of interest.

Ron kept his eyes on Harry. "I've been exchanging a lot of owls with Neville lately, talking about things like the Order. We've been worried about Hermione for a long time, thought she was dead… like you. Anyway, the other night I sent him a letter explaining everything, you coming back and Hedwig's note from Hermione. Last night he got back to me and wanted to meet with us, you were still asleep this morning so I went alone."

"What did he have to say?" Harry asked.

"I met with him in Fred and George's shop. He said that when he got my news they had a meeting at the alternate headquarters. Someone came up to him afterwards saying they knew a way to get to Hermione."

"Who?"

"Neville wouldn't say." Ron shrugged. "They refused to tell him anymore unless you were there, Harry."

"It's settled then," Fardale exclaimed, shooting to his feet and clapping his hands together with a grin, "our adventure starts tomorrow."

Ron had been far more reluctant to allow the Auror to accompany them then Harry had anticipated. After Fardale said his goodbyes and left the room, it took Harry hours to convince Ron to let him join them for the meeting with Neville.

At first it was questions of Fardale's loyalty to the Order, thinking he might have been sent here to spy, and Harry had to admit initially he'd thought the same. He trusted Tonks and in her choices, but he'd trusted Fleur much in the same way. It was only the memory of Fardale fighting by his side at Hogwarts that convinced Harry otherwise. Ron was also worried Fardale might block their attempted rescue, saying it was too dangerous and potentially warning the rest of the Order. It was only the explanation of what he'd learnt that day and the conversation from moments before Ron came in, that stayed his concerns.

Interestingly for Harry, there didn't seem to be any genuine dislike behind Ron's protests. They lacked the fire and spite, which so often ignited these accusations born out of anger. There was no resistance to the points Harry put forward, only an acceptance that rung hollow. It was as though Ron didn't fully believe what he himself was saying.

In fact, Harry was sure it had nothing to do with Fardale at all, rather anyone who potentially would join their mission. For so long, it had been Harry, Ron and Hermione, a trio, and he was certain that a part of Ron wanted to keep it that way. Harry did as well, but the plan he was putting together in his head needed more than just the two of them.

The night passed quickly in a dreamless sleep, and Harry was up in the early hours of the following morning, drinking tea and eating breakfast. He had finished by the time Ron came in and plopped himself down with a tired grunt. Dobby brought him a plate brimming with food, but Ron did no more than push it absentmindedly around his plate.

Harry stood up from the table. "Eat," he said, "you're going to regret it if you don't. I doubt wherever we're going is likely to have a house elf like Dobby." Ron looked up at him, but kept silent. "Listen, Ron," Harry lowered himself, catching his friend's gaze, "we will get her back. One way or another, it doesn't matter which, as long as she's out."

"Does he really need to come with us?"

There was no questioning who he was.

Harry could see something playful lurking behind Ron's bright eyes and smiled. "Yes, he does, and you know exactly why. Now eat before I get Kreacher to cook for you from now on. We're leaving as soon as Fardale gets here."

Ron chuckled and immediately turned his attention to his plate.

Not five minutes later, the front door to Grimmauld Place shut with a smack and Fardale came walking in, dodging the troll's foot with grace, unlike his partner. "We ready boys?" he called, his face awash with excitement. It was interesting seeing the man not in his Auror uniform, dressed down in a casual robe.

Ron came from the kitchen, finishing his coffee, before setting it down on the mantle beside the floo powder. "Right, we're taking the floo to Neville's Gran's house. He said she would be out until the afternoon visiting some of her friends from their Hogwarts days." Taking a handful of powder, Ron stepped in to the fireplace and shouted, "Hawk House!"

Fardale went next, disappearing in the emerald flames. Harry followed soon after. The journey was as horrible as he remembered it to be, with his stomach tying itself in knots and his legs giving way just as he came shooting out of the fireplace.

Surprisingly, the fall wasn't unpleasant, his back landing on perhaps the cushiest carpet he'd ever encountered.

"We leave it there on purpose, not everyone can handle the floo and it's much more comfortable if any of Gran's friends topple over." Settling his glasses back on his nose, the rest of the room suddenly came in to perspective, including the source of the voice in front of him. Neville looked much thinner than when he had last seen him, but some fat still lingered on his cheeks giving him a boyish look.

Before he could do anything himself, Neville pulled Harry to his feet and into a strong embrace.

"You're looking great, Neville," Harry said. "If you don't mind me asking, why are we at your Gran's?"

"I thought it would give us a bit more privacy." Neville replied, leading them out of the entrance room. "Also… um, it has to do with who we're meeting."

"And who is that?" It was Fardale who asked. Harry gathered that the Auror did not feel entirely comfortable not knowing who they were meeting.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Neville shook his head in amusement. "They're just through here." Passing through a hall decorated with furniture of rich mahogany and walls covered in portraits depicting scenes of hunts, they approached what looked to be a small study tucked away in the corner of the house.

Neville prodded the door with his wand, unlocking it, and it opened to a dimly lit room with five chairs. Four sat empty, while the fifth was occupied by a young girl, no older than a fifth year at Hogwarts, who's short brown hair obscured her face. It was only when she brushed it out of the way when Harry recognized her, though not for who she was, but for who she resembled.

"Astoria Greengrass." The name came tumbling out of his mouth without thinking.

"Thank you for the introduction, Potter," she said, indicating for everyone to take a seat, a polite smile dressing her lips. Her eyes had yet to leave Harry, freezing him to the spot.

He was the last to take his seat.

"What's happening to Hermione?" Ron blurted out. Harry could have laughed, trust Ron to be blunt.

Finally breaking her gaze, Astoria turned to Ron. "I don't know what's happening to her, nobody does really."

Breathing easier and being able to think more clearly, Harry now took his turn to examine the girl. Despite the confidence she carried herself in, she looked young, too young, to be involved in all this.

Harry had a lot of question he wanted to ask, but they could wait. Raising his hand, cutting Ron off, he asked, "How can you get us to Hermione?"

"I know a Healer," she said. Seeing their blank looks she continued, "Her name is Healer Davis—she's Tracy's mum." She looked at Harry.

He nodded, thinking to himself. "I knew Tracy wanted to be a Healer, I didn't know her mum was one."

"I can check," said Fardale, "won't be too hard to find out if it's true. Besides, I think I've heard of Healer Davis before."

"How does this help us find Hermione?"

"I was getting there," she drawled, rolling her eyes in jest. "Tracy is Daphne's friend, but also mine, and we usually exchange letters over the summer. A couple of months ago, she told me how her mom had a special patient come in and it was big news around the hospital. I didn't think much of it at first, it could've been anyone, but in her most recent letters she keeps saying how upset her mom is whenever she comes home from work. Tracey's mum is half-blood."

"You're thinking Tracey's mum is one of the Healer's assigned to Hermione," Harry said, fitting the pieces together in his mind. Astoria nodded, looking quite pleased with herself.

"It would make sense, wouldn't it?" Ron said from across Harry.

"I think it does," Harry replied. "Hermione is found outside Hogsmeade and the Aurors are called. They get ready to transport her to St. Mungo's but someone recognizes who she is and they increase security—"

"But why?" Ron asked.

"I don't know… we'll have to figure that out later. Afterwords, she's taken to St. Mungo's and that's where Fardale sees her, but only realizes who she is later that night. But somewhere in between, Scrimgeour finds out Fardale is guarding Hermione and has him moved."

"He suspects Fardale is part of the Order, so he prevents him from possibly contacting her. Scrimgeour wants Hermione for some reason… maybe he's trying to get information about the Order."

"Exactly!" Harry said, feeling a rush of excitement come over him. "Not wanting any word of Hermione to get out, he picks his own team of Healer's and guards to watch over her at St. Mungo's and Tracy's mom is one of them. If we can get into contact with her, then maybe we can get her on our side through the guilt she's feeling."

"We just need to figure out how we're going to get her out of there."

"I have a few ideas."

"Woah, hold up! What's going on here?" Fardale looked between the two of them in shock.

"Don't worry too much about it, you'll get used to it." Neville laughed. "They've had years of practice getting up to things like this."

"Getting in to St. Mungo's isn't as easy as you think, it's not like it used to be," Fardale warned.

"We just need a good reason then," Ron said.

Harry turned to Neville, who smiled and said, "I'm in."

"Do you think you can set up a meeting with Tracey's mum?" Harry asked Astoria.

"It shouldn't be too hard," she answered.

"I'll be the one to meet her. It will seem more official coming from a double agent Auror rather than a couple of school kids." Fardale flashed a cocky smile and winked.

As this was going on, Harry pulled out the silver watch he'd been gifted by Fleur and Viktor, checking the time. He looked over at Neville who was thinking the same thing.

"Listen, you'll have to leave now. My Gran should be coming home soon and I don't want to have to explain what you're all doing here."

Neville was just about to lead them back out of the room, when Astoria called out. "Harry, could you stay a moment." Everyone stopped, and Neville looked as though he wanted to say something. "It won't be long," she added.

Harry had a feeling this was coming. He nodded his head and watched as Neville and the rest exited the room. When the door closed behind them, he turned around. "How did you get back to Britain?" he asked immediately.

Astoria was taken aback, clearly not expecting Harry to be so direct. If you're going to corner me, he thought, then I'm going to go on the offensive.

"I'm resourceful," she smiled slyly, quirking her head up towards him.

It reminded him of Daphne.

Something must have given it away on his face. Astoria reached out to touch his arm. "She couldn't leave, if that's what you're wondering. I only just barely managed to get away."

"What happened?" Harry wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Astoria looked at him then, her eyes trying to tell him something he couldn't understand. "There was an… incident, a few months into our stay. My family was put in a difficult position. In the middle of all the chaos, I snuck away and travelled back here."

"Why?"

"Because I want to help. I'm not afraid like my parents are. I joined the D.A. last term, I know what it means. I never wanted to leave—granted, neither did Daphne—but when I saw my chance, I took it. I ran away and came here, to Neville's. Most important purebloods know where each other live, and I knew Neville was close to you. His Gran took me in without too many questions, another benefit of purebloods: they don't pry into family matters, they'd much rather gossip about it amongst themselves afterwards."

"You're too young to join the fight. I know I did, but I didnt' have much of a choice and I didn't know then what I do now." Harry looked her up and down. She was so young.

She shrugged. "Neville told me about the same, but I help anyways. I know there's some sort of resistance or something that you are all a part of. He won't let me join, but he still tells me things. It's how I found out about you and Hermione."

"You did well," Harry told her, smiling kindly. "Just promise you'll leave the fighting to us."

Astoria only looked at him, a familiar fire burning in the depths of her eyes.

Harry sighed, sadly, and made to leave.

"Do you still have it?" She asked suddenly, just as he reached the door.

"Have what?" He replied, not turning around.

"What she gave you."

"I do."

"Keep it, it might be useful someday."

Harry left the room in search of Neville, leaving behind the thought of Greengrass' and the trouble they brought. He had enough of that in his life already.

AN

Here is the latest update! I hope you all enjoyed it. It's been a couple months, but not as long a break as last time. I would say we are approaching the last 7-10 chapters, but that's only an estimate. A lot can change as you know.

Thank you for sticking with me, and please leave me your thoughts and any constructive opinions. Your reviews are always appreciated!