Chapter 22

When the world went black, nothing beyond a silent cheer for her own accomplishment entered into mind. The house crumbled all around them and her last sights were that of her only target being taken out by a large chunk of ceiling just before she was afforded the same fate. There was no terror on her face, no concern at all, in fact. She had been expecting it. But what had followed that, the blackness, only lasted a while before she was roused.

When she awoke, no chosen word from the dictionary could describe the pain. From her forehead to the tips of her toes, her body, her nerves, were on fire. In and out of consciousness, she faded. Each moment of coming to resulted in the inevitable blackness taking her in the undertow again. For how long, she didn't know. But now, after everything had been said and done, her mind began to conjure what it had scarcely believed to before; the fear that she cast aside, the tormented feelings of sadness, loneliness, and mortality. She couldn't move. She could hardly breathe, her body was fighting every spark of a signal being sent to her brain telling her she was in all encompassing danger. And then she would fade out again when it became too much.

Hours felt like years. Every once in a while in those darker moments she kept thinking Minerva would appear and make it all okay. She had never before experienced what it felt like for a brain and body to go into shock, all she knew was the pain in her legs, hips, chest, arms, and head was ever so slowly subsiding. Thinking of Minerva and what feeling those thoughts evoked may have been desperate notions from a desperate woman, but even if she could see those eyes one more time before her lungs filled fractionally, it would have made it all so worth it.

Not only was it the excruciating impact on her legs, her lower back, and her head… But ever more annoying were the sounds of voices. Frantic, unintelligible, voices. Of course, she thought, in her darkest hour she would also be rendered insane. Such is life… She thought, before falling into a dream-filled slumber.

_~*HGMM*~_

Slowly, carefully, large pieces of rubble were being discarded and moved. They could be destroyed and shuffled later, the primary focus was to see if there were any more survivors. Harry was most instrumental in making sure that they were moving quickly but not recklessly. Taking apart a puzzle of mess could be tricky, the last thing that they wanted to do was carelessly start shuffling around debris and cause even more damage, or worse, further bury more inside. Meticulously, Harry and a team of people took apart every square inch, peeling back the manor layer by layer to discover artifacts, books, furniture and fixtures. Quite a lot of memorabilia that might have proved useful at a later date was discarded elsewhere in another pile for the time being, those things had no business lingering in hands. A day and another night passed. One team went to rest after hours of labouring to be replaced by another. The green eyed wizard remained vigilant until mid-morning hit.

"Think I found something!" Harry heard someone call out. Others began to circling but he found himself pushing through the small group that was forming to investigate.

"What is it?" Authoritatively, his voice rang as he climbed over some bricks with caution. One of the workers pointed to what looked like a piece of trash, but upon closer inspection was a hand and fingers. Skin blackened by dirt and bruises, swollen and scraped, peeked out from beneath a large chunk. Harry's adrenalin kicked in. "Get the Medi-team, we found someone!"

He ordered people to continue searching other areas, they'd begin with this one for now. He could hardly tell who it was, only that a person was stuck in there. When the medical team came over, the discussion turned from hopeful to apprehensive quickly. Of course, having magic was a factor, but a body was still a body. And without knowing what sort of damage was beneath, it was hard to say how a body that had been compressed for so long would manage when being introduced to less weight. Harry understood, still, they had to try. Three large slabs, awkwardly piled, shingled, on top of one another… They carefully worked at the first and managed to ease it off. The second proved to be more difficult, but they were able to guide it off of the body to reveal more.

It took every reserve of patience and stomach that Harry had not to start showing on the outside how twisted his emotions were growing on the inside. The lower half revealed was a bloody mangled mess. As soon as air got at it, immediately the medical team began working to straighten crushed bones and cast spells to clot blood that wanted to ooze. There was so much of the stuff. He knew the moment he saw the dark jeans and the boots who it was. The sight of it… It broke his heart. With one more to go, they carefully deconstructed the tomb Hermione had been buried in. At the sight of her form, head turned, Harry had to turn away and walk, dazed, to his tent. The image of her shattered body, her indiscernible face, crooked nose, enough to drive the man ill. Never had he thought he'd ever see something as horrific as Hogwarts again after the battle raged there, but to see one of his closest friends in such a state made the exhausted fellow drop to his knees in front of the toilet.

The medical team worked tirelessly, and in his tent he eventually found himself pacing, unaware of the goings on outside. How was he going to explain this to his wife and children, to Ron, or… The woman that was probably waiting for her to return. Panic filled the man. For the first time in many years, he could do little but ring his own hands until a medi-witch entered his tent.

"Mr. Potter, forgive the intrusion…" She addressed him, holding out a crumpled, stained piece of parchment. He met her and took it in hand, partly confused. "We will have to take her to St Mungo's, sir… The situation is dire."

Harry lifted his gaze from the parchment to the woman.

"St Mungo's… What situation?" He asked, his brows knitting. The medi-witch peered back at him with mild uncertainty.

"Miss. Granger, sir… She needs desperate attention if she has any hope of surviving…" He wasn't understanding, she could see it in his eyes.

"Is she alive?" His question was met with the shortest of nods. Good fucking Merlin'... "St Mungo's is too far, she'll die if we take her to London… We'll take her to Hogwarts, Poppy will know what to do. I'll meet you outside." Reinvigorated by pure disbelief, he turned his back on the witch and ran to grab his coat, leaving her to depart on her own. In his hands, he quickly opened the note while tugging on his jacket to see his name scrawled on one side. Hermione's signature thin, sharp penmanship… unmistakable.

Figured it out while they're sleeping.

G. Johnson = Informant

Minister knows = Bad intel/Hiding Information

Same as before, look into it.

Much love.

HG

He could just make it out… But there it was. After everything she had been through, everything that he knew of... Hermione would always be the brightest witch of her age. Remembering for the first time in years, the image of her petrified form and that ripped page from a book… Pipes. Realization dawned. He wondered who else knew, if anyone had read it. They'd find out soon enough. More pressing than his guilt for not believing in Hermione those years ago when she had brought up Kingsley, in that perhaps Harry was imparting too much trust, was the fact that they needed to get her to Hogwarts as quickly as possible and without too much commotion.

Leaving his tent, Harry called a gathering. Time was of the essence, he was well aware, although he also was highly aware of the hold his status held. Crowding around him when he called for an audience, he squared his shoulders and announced that by no means should Hermione's diagnosis be revealed. It didn't matter who came through, whether the Minister himself appeared, no one should know that she lived. If anyone asked any questions, he was taking her body, the body of a dear friend, away from this place where it had fallen. No more than that. Thankfully, he was met with understanding, for Hermione was one of The Trio. In that age, when The Boy Who Lived asked a favour - the people listened. It was one of those rare occasions where Harry was thankful that some unknown god allowed for his privilege. Once she was on the stretcher, they set up a ten like covering for her. They induced her into a state of deep slumber, ensuring that she would not wake for a moment or feel any pain. Harry made sure of that. Once he was satisfied, they began the journey to Hogwarts.

Sending word ahead, Harry prayed that one particular member of staff would be locked away in an office somewhere. He had addressed Poppy alone, not wanting to cause any sort of spectacle. Under cover of darkness, he ensured the medi-witch met them at the gates of Hogwarts when they were able to touch down. It had been difficult to determine how to transport Hermione - apparating wasn't safe, taking her by land travel would have prolonged the journey, but brooms… It was a risk, but it worked. When they arrived, there she stood, waiting. Touching down to the earth, she came forward to do a quick inspection. Her features were questioning but mild, but quickly that known determination and severity that Harry remembered from childhood became ever more apparent.

Poppy ensured that the Headmistress wouldn't be notified of an intrusion to the grounds, professors and school faculty had that sort of privilege, which was a more recent safety measure for Hogwarts considering the previous invasions they had had during his own school years. Practicing caution, they were led by Madame Pomfrey over the grounds and to the school. Through the corridors, they were met by no one, and the only sound being the shuffling of their own feet as they carried the injured. The hour was nearing 4 A.M., to ensure that students and patrol was minimal.

"Bring her inside, get her to a bed on the far end." She ordered the small medical team with a flick of her wand, opening the doors to the infirmary. They carried the covered stretcher down the center of the room, far down, until they could reasonably maintain their levitation charms of the device while two healers uncovered and levitated the body carefully over to the comfort of cotton sheets. Harry stood off to the side, watching, unsure of how to proceed. Now that they were there and she was safely within Hogwarts walls, his own journey had ended. There was little he could do.

"We need to get her out of these clothes." Madame Pomfrey addressed her helpers, almost forgetting about the other wizard standing exhausted a few feet back from the end of the bed. The dirt, dust, and blood caked the fabric and clung to Hermione's body, removing it safely with disinfectant potions and a few spells could be done quickly and with ease, which is when the real work began.

"I'll move partitions, give her some privacy." Harry announced, as though he was actually able to help with something. The idea of being witness to her undressing seemed… Wrong.

"Potter," Poppy stopped the man as he was turning to move. "You should get some sleep, I can do what I can, but there's nothing that you can do any more than you already have for Miss. Granger." Leaving Hermione's side, the old woman ventured over to the green eyed man, reaching out to touch his elbow, briefly. For a moment, the two looked at one and other as the others behind began setting up privacy screens around the bed. He paused. Mouth dry, he parted his lips and sighed.

"You can help her...Can't you, Madame Pomfrey." He felt like a child again, returning to Hogwarts always made him feel that way. She had given him bones again, healed him optimally on more than one occasion, he had seen her work her magic before. The woman in front of him gave him a look that he couldn't exactly read

"I will do everything I can, Potter," She told him, giving his arm a firm squeeze. "But I need to assess her and it will take time, even magic has its limits." With that, she left him to stand there and watch as the witch disappeared behind plain, white hanging fabric, now shielding the patient from prying eyes. He couldn't leave. It wouldn't feel right to leave her, even if in capable hands. Not with everything they had been through together.

The man raised his hands and brushed his hair back, his hands resting on the back of his head for a moment, before they fell to his sides, defeated. Rather than turning to leave, he looked about for a chair. He strolled over to one of the seats beside a bed next over and listened to the whispers behind the screen, his body growing more stiff by the passing of minutes.

There he sat. He sat and listened until he fell asleep, his jacket pulled he had taken off and pulled up to his chin like a blanket. It didn't take long until he was softly snoring while they worked to save his friend, and one of his closest confidants.

_~*HGMM*~_

Voices were loud. They echoed off the walls and the man in the chair found himself scrunching his face in annoyance. His back ached, his legs felt pins and needles running through them, but the voices, they were the most irritating of all. Blurry eyes opened slowly, their disoriented gaze aimed up at an unfamiliar ceiling before he found the strength to lift his head and peer about to locate where the noise emitted from. Alertness replaced the haze of slumber quickly when he saw Poppy blocking an absolutely pissed off Headmistress from entering the thin fabric holding separating them from the patient inside. Words grew clearer.

"OUT OF MY WAY, MADAME POMFREY, I AM THE HEADMISTRESS OF THIS SCHOOL AND I HAVE THE RIGHT…"

"THE HELL YOU DO!" Harry looked on agape at the two women, he didn't think he'd ever seen either so furious. Not with one another, at least. Minerva seemed to draw herself to full height and took a few threatening steps toward the medi-witch, he could see her lungs filling.

"Stop," Rising fast from his seated position, his makeshift blanket hit the floor. Harry strode forward despite the discomfort in his legs and found himself forcing in between the two. "Please, tend to her." He tossed quickly over his shoulder to the woman working on saving his friend. The daggers those emerald eyes cast in his direction were merely an afterthought.

"I expect an answer for this at once, Mr. Potter." Growling low notes, the Scottish witch stepped into Harry's personal space the second his gaze returned to her. His hands rose to lightly grip her shoulders in case she chose to shove him aside, steadying himself as well.

"Minerva, things have not gone as planned..." Imploringly, and fully awake by now, Harry began to explain but he fell short. How do you tell someone that it was partially your own fault? Minerva mustered every bit of strength to cling to that anger, rather than break down in a pile like she so wanted to at the thought of what lay hidden behind that curtain, and the thought that Hermione was anything less than what she had left as. She had been assured by the Minister himself that she would return in one piece, despite what Hermione had explained, she had prayed that it had been all in the head of the brunette. She'd even begun to convince herself that maybe, this time, Hermione could have been wrong about circumstances.

"Details, Potter… I expect you to tell me everything," She ordered, quivering with rage. "While you are in this school, you abide by what I say. Now tell me."

"Somewhere else," He replied quickly. "Let Poppy and the healers do their work, distraction isn't what they need and you have proven well enough that you will cause distraction." Gaining strength, Harry's own voice rose to match the woman. He set his jaw and green eyes bore into green, his own giving a pointed look.

Despite herself, Minerva found herself glaring at the man holding her by the shoulders, keeping her away from the situation behind those damn screens. Ultimately, the woman growled in frustration and turned briskly upon heel, readily storming out of the infirmary with Harry close behind, his jacket left forgotten on the floor.

Through the castle, they wasted little time. By now classes were in full swing and Harry knew Minerva didn't want to linger and wait for the class changes to be underway, that time would only ensure moments of having to weave through students filling the corridors and the cause of delay. He was glad only that he had been able to convince the woman to leave the room, the simple fact that he had witnessed her trying to throw her weight around gave the strong impression that if she had been allowed to see Hermione in such a state, that she would have meddled ever more. He couldn't have that. Hermione certainly couldn't have that, either. Minverva was proficient at many things, but a healer she was not.

Announcing her presence to the statue of her, and what had been Dumbledor's office, the spiral staircase appeared. She didn't take a moment to look back and see if Harry was behind, she couldn't look at the man. He rode up with her the door of her office, close behind still, although when the door was pushed open and he entered, he took his eyes off the ebony haired witch for a moment to close. A poor choice on his part.

Gaze shifting back, hands found and bunched the fabric of his shirt, forcing the man back against the door he had just closed and nearly knocking him off his own feet. A strangled sound rose in the back of his throat by the sheer force of it, unexpected.

"WHAT HAPPENED?!" She all but roared in his face, the lioness making herself well known. When Harry's vision cleared, he saw Minerva for what she was. Absolutely terrified. Her eyes were tear filled but they weren't falling, and he was just a willing participant to her upset.

"They were ambushed, Kingsley knew it was going to happen… He knew it was going to happen and he sent them anyway." His hands rose to grip the wrists of the woman, her fingers only curling into the fabric of his shirt more at the feeling of tight hands encircling.

"He told me that she would be returned safely…" She growled back, her voice strangled by the intensity with which her throat wanted to close in upon itself.

Behind the woman, Harry found himself beginning to focus on the whizzing silver knickknacks, guilt returning. Of course, he would have told her that. Anything to get what he wanted, he had been subject to these tactics himself but, by Merlin, he didn't want to believe it.

"Kingsley has changed, whether it be by power or by something else, but he's done this before… I was too blinded by my loyalty to see it then but Hermione knew something wasn't right and I didn't believe her. It was only a matter of time before it happened again." How he wished he had taken her word that morning when she had confronted him at his home while Ginny was with her parents. Instead, he had only pushed her away and down the hole further, ignored her concerns, when, really, she had been right all along. He hadn't been the greatest friend, and it wasn't until she had been put into such a position herself that he realized his faults in it.

Finally, Minerva let him go. She left him there to sink against the door and began walking back into her office, her hands clenched.

"What happened to her, as neither you or Poppy will be so kind as to tell me?" The Headmistress asked while seeking out the bottle of Firewhiskey she had in the top drawer of her desk for such… Uncomfortable occasions. Harry's hand lifted to his chest where he rubbed through the fabric, the weight of her hands still presently felt despite their disappearance.

"Hermione has always been abrupt, I talked to the Auror she was partnered with and, as usual, she went against the plan and did took her own path," He didn't move, he watched on carefully as Minerva took out two glasses and poured sloppily, splashes of the drink landing on the lacquered surface of her desk. "She conceived of a plan to try and take down their leader on her own."

Minerva listened though her hands shook. It was all well and fine to understand that Hermione would do exactly what she wanted rather than what was expected, but that didn't paint a clear picture. So she waited. She took up the second glass and brought it to Harry, ensuring it was thrust into his hand before leaving the man again to seat herself behind her desk.

"I'm aware of her mechanics, Harry… But you still aren't giving me the information that I want, why can't I see her?" The woman was growing impatient, he could see it in her eyes and the way she so tightly drew herself in while she sat herself down. The drink in her hand, to his surprise, was not shattering by the force of her white knuckled grip.

Harry followed the woman and sat down before her in a chair in front of her desk, taking a long pull of the drink despite the early morning hour. The fire burned him but in a comforting way, warming him, where as he had been feeling nothing but a chill, and he then cradled it in his lap.

"Minerva, they had been sent to a manor property to confront the culprit behind these ridiculous attacks, Hermione got herself into the manor, found the man… Nott, you know… Nott Senior's son, and she collapsed the whole bloody house," He explained, his gaze watching Minerva as she took in the information he was dealing her. "She buried herself alive in there, along with anyone else, along with him, to try and stop it all before it started and get the rest to safety."

The woman froze. Harry didn't stop there. While she listened and sipped her whiskey he drew on, he explained that before the department had received the distress call, no one had even begun to attempt to deconstruct the destruction Hermione had caused. The woman had effectively been trapped, wounded, for the better part of two days, at least. When they found her, she was in ruins. By their determination, her leg was badly broken, her fingers were sprained, some broken, her nose was shattered, head cracked, ribs… The injuries were so numerous, he hardly knew if that was all. But what more could be expected when you drop a house on someone?

"She would never want you to see her like this, you do know that don't you," He told the woman, her features paling under the weight of knowing what she had not known prior. "Hermione is a proud person, she doesn't like to cause undue pain, not really… And because…" He paused. How much to reveal? What had been revealed? Minerva's attention remained on him and her eyes begged for it. They begged for him to continue with anything else. So, the man sighed and leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Hermione loves you, she knows she does, we all know it," He told her, his voice clear, although still peppered with the exhaustion accumulated over the recent days. "You know that she wouldn't want you to see her the way she is now, if she had the power to do so she'd lock herself away until she was at least a bit more presentable. So, although you are, indeed, Headmistress of this school and you can do with that power what you wish, consider what she would wish… Give it a little bit of time. At least, give her the opportunity to wake up, if she will wake up."

"What about Kingsley…" Minerva croaked, that fire returning to her eyes. He had to be investigated, he had to be held accountable for these crimes and actions. He put those people there… Harry's eyes narrowed.

"I will make sure that nothing like this happens again, to anyone… But I need time to gather information to take it to the counsellors, but I promise you… I will take care of this." He said. Minerva nodded, her eyes averting to her fireplace. It had been a long time since the portraits on her wall didn't make a sound. They only listened, hanging on every word.

Minerva was sick to her stomach at the thought of that man, even more so sickened by the reality that was slowly sinking in. She could do nothing. Nothing but wait, at least… But now she knew.

"If you need testimony, I'll expect you to consider me, Mr. Potter." Stated the woman at long last.

"I'll ask you for it." He replied, knowing that the testimonial of the Headmistress of Hogwarts school was a heavy weight in their corner, and potentially just enough to tip the scale if need be. Kingsley's actions would not stand. Not this time.

TBC