A/N: Y'alls comments on the last chapter were so sweet, thank you! Hope you enjoy this one, I'm glad to be writing again. Cheers!
oOo
This was a bad idea. The worst idea.
She had told Minerva this would be an awful, terrible, unimaginably wretched idea, but had she listened? No. No, she had not. Hermione was just a dimension hopping witch from the future, what did know, anyway?
Nothing, evidently. Either I don't actually know anything or I'm lying about what I do claim to know, they can't seem to come to bloody agreement on which it is.
Hermione clenched her fists in her lap under the table to keep from fidgeting, her breathing painfully controlled as the table of ghosts surrounding her debated her fate.
"Veritaserum."
Hermione's head shot up, wild curls rustling from the movement, to meet the eyes - eye? - of Alastor Moody as he pointed a calloused finger down the table at the displaced witch. Nearly a dozen heads turned to face her, following Moody's finger down the table.
Composure, Granger, keep your goddamn composure.
The amber eyed witch took a deep, slow, calming breath.
"Sir, as Headmistress McGonagall already stated, I have previously submitted to questioning under veritaserum." Composure, Granger. "May I also remind everyone that veritaserum can only compel one to speak that which one believes is the truth. If I my memories have been altered- as some of you suspect- then the truth serum will give you no insight into the reality of the situation." Hermione's voice did not waver, her gaze did not flinch, she'd long ago lost her fear of this shade turned flesh; though his appearance, so young -ish- and fresh and alive, did unnerve her.
Alive.
Hermione was surrounded by ghosts and phantoms. Haunting her, staring her down with gazes so real Hermione wanted to scream at them to return to their graves. Witches and wizards who had been mourned and laid to rest, some by Hermione herself, now sat beside her at the magically extended Grimmauld Place table, like a scene from the macabre dreams that haunted her on dark nights.
The Prewett twins, Moody, Emmeline Vance, Rosmerta - that last one had been, admittedly, somewhat of a shock.
Apparently in this reality Rosmerta and Minerva were quite the bosom buddies.
Shite, Granger, don't look at Rosmerta's bloody bosom at a time like this.
"Alastor, please sit down." Minerva's voice cut through the intensity of Moody's single-eyed gaze and Hermione quickly focused her attention away from Rosmerta's considerable chest.
Goodness, do they weigh her down? They must right? How did I never notice before.
"I can assure Miss Granger is not lying." Minerva continued.
"With all due respect, Minerva, there is no possible way to be certain." Moody countered, briefly shifting his weight from foot to cane. "She may very well think she is telling the truth, but this smells all wrong."
"Smells all wrong? Are you an animagus now, Moody?" Fabian Prewett chuckled from across the table eliciting an all but snarl from the seasoned Auror in question.
"You'd do well to keep comments like that to yourself, Prewett." Moody sneered at the younger wizard.
"Come now, we're not going to get anywhere bickering with one another like this." Arthur Weasley, the genial smile Hermione knew and loved painted across his freckled features, attempted to soothe his fellow Order member. "Sit back down, won't you, Alastor?"
"Constant vigilance, Arthur!" Moody growled and Hermione was forced to bite back a laugh. At least she could take comfort in the sameness of this Moody.
I wonder when he gets that bloody magical eye…
"We don't know who or what she is." A wisp of a witch with stick straight hair that fell like a veil on either side of her face drew her red lips into a thin line. Emmeline Vance had been casting odd glances at Hermione all night.
I take offense to that, Vance.
From beneath the table Hermione felt a hand gently clasp her own and she squeezed it, soaking up the comfort Remus was offering. Chancing a sideways glance to her left, Hermione frowned at the stony faced stare Remus was directing at Emmeline.
Arthur's right, this isn't going to do any of us any good. Did the Order members argue this much during the second war? In fact, they had. Young Harry had realized early on that the indecision of adults led to stagnation and that often one simply needed to act rather than debate. Though Hermione had argued with him at the time, she was growing to believe that perhaps her best friend had been correct. Adults can't get anything done.
Are we not an adult as well, Granger? Damnit. She supposed she was an adult, but being around all of these wizards and witches who should be much older than her was disconcerting. Her Moody would never have viewed Hermione, who he would have always seen as a child, as an equal, let alone a threat or a death eater.
No, don't be daft. Moody could've believed everyone was a death eater in disguise.
"She doesn't look like a death eater to me." Fabian laughed from across the table, shooting Hermione a brief wink when her amber eyes caught his.
Fuck, did I say something outloud- oh sweet Merlin, this prat is making it very difficult to forget I drunkenly flirted with him. Hermione's stomach rolled in barely suppressed embarrassment. What a bloody rollercoaster of emotions this whole adventure turned out to be.
Moody's eye turned back to Fabian. "Listen, whelp-"
"Whoa now, Alastor-" Fabian sighed, hands up in surrender.
"-I don't need some ginger-"
"No need to bring hair color into this, Moody." Arthur laughed meekly.
"-trying to tell me who is or is not a death eater-"
"You seem very tense, have you had anything to drink today?" Gideon, who'd barely spoken yet that night, piped in.
Oh, ohhhhhhhh what a sad time to join the conversation, Gideon.
"Have I had anything to-to drink?" Moody recoiled from the table, looking between the three smiling red heads, and Hermione noticed him subtly push a flask deeper into his coat pocket. "Is this all a bloody joke to you? A fun game we can all have a laugh over later? I can't for the life of me figure out how Kingsley let you two poor excuses for wizards into the Department."
"You need to calm down, Alastor." A disgusted- and extremely fit- Kingsley Shacklebolt voiced from across the table, as from the corner of Hermione's vision she noticed Fabian and Gideon both move as if to stand-
You've got to be bloody kidding me.
"Enough!" Minerva was suddenly on her feet with a swiftness Hermione didn't realize the older witch possessed and for a moment they all thought the witch had slammed the table to enunciate her point, but no, the echo through the room had come straight from Minerva's vocal cords. The table turned to the witch who had been professor to most of them in stunned silence.
"That is quite enough," looking over her glasses, Minerva motioned to the chair behind Moody, "from all of you."
The Auror slid down, eye on the head of the Order of the Cat as she pulled herself to her full height.
"Now I have heard your concerns and opinions and I have made note of them, but I'm afraid you are all under the misunderstanding that you were called here tonight for a debate." Minerva swept her gaze across the table, meeting the eyes of each witch and wizard who sat before her. "You are not here to argue like children."
"Aye, that's my job." From Hermione's right Sirius leaned back into his chair, arms folded across his chest.
"Shut up, Sirius." Remus mumbled between clenched teeth.
Minerva ignored the Marauders.
Best choice, really.
"You are all the finest witches and wizards of our time," Minerva continued, "and I have not asked you here tonight for a discussion, I have asked you here tonight to give you your orders."
A silence fell upon the table, heavy and expectant.
"I have told you he will return. This is not a matter of if, this is a matter of when. Already his followers who remain are setting things into motion-"
"What things, Minerva?" Rosmerta fretted, the seriousness of Minerva's words lost on none of them.
"We can't be entirely certain, Rosy, but we do know that they are up to something." Minerva admitted, taking her seat once again. "We should have realized right away that Riddle never would have allowed himself to die, not this first time at least."
Emmeline shook her head. "This first time? Minerva, you're not making sense? Riddle is gone-"
"No."
It took all the eyes snapping to Hermione for the witch to realize it was her voice that had interrupted.
Crappity crap crap.
"No." The witch who Hermione was quickly growing to dislike - was Emmeline this nasty in the 90s?- drawled. "What do you mean, no?"
Hermione sighed. "No, exclamation, used to give a negative response."
"Wha-what did you just say?" Emmeline's face contorted.
Oh good job, Granger.
"What I mean is," Hermione began quickly, "Vold- Riddle, will come back. He's not actually gone if I'm being specific. He's left… pieces here." Hermione glanced at Minerva, who nodded, and sighed before continuing. "There is dark magic at work in this, ancient and arcane magic that splits the soul into um- pieces, pieces that- well, that exist without the body."
Alastor gasped, a startling sound from the gruff wizard, "You don't mean…"
"She does." Remus confirmed gravely. "Horcruxes."
Moody removed the flask from his pocket and took a long swig.
Gideon snorted with disgust, "I knew you'd been-"
"What is a horcrux?" Fabian looked to Hermione, but it was Rosmerta who spoke.
"It is when a wizard sacrifices their humanity in exchange for eternity."
"Essentially, yes." Hermione bit the inside of her cheek and glanced wearily at Rosmerta. "Riddle split pieces of his soul and hid them in objects, until those objects are found and destroyed, Riddle can be brought back. We believe that is what his followers are planning."
"Merlin's beard." Kingsley breathed.
"Merlin's beard, indeed." Minerva confirmed. "Now all of you listen, we've work to do."
oOo
Hermione stared at the amber eyes that bore into her through the mirror and clenched her jaw. Dark fingers wrapped around the basin of the sink to steady her as Hermione leaned her weight into her palms, so close to the mirror her forehead nearly touched the glass.
"Minerva's right, they all need to know." She whispered to no one. "You can't do this alone…"
Yes, we can.
"No. We can't."
The witch watched as she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and squeezed it until she could almost taste blood.
"Gods, let them all live."
Hermione released the sink from her grip and stood to her full height, but did not break eye contact with herself. Deep chestnut eyebrows pulled together, sending a crease line up her forehead that Ron had always complained about. Did she always look this tense?
There's always something to be tense about. She reminded herself. The war is never going to end.
Not for us, not up here.
Hermione ran a hand through her tangle of curls.
Not up here.
She turned from her reflection, rolling her shoulders before opening the bathroom door.
"So, not a death eater, eh?" Fabian asked from Hermione's bed.
"STUPEFY." The spell was past Hermione's lips and flowing from her wandless hand before she even had time to process what was going on. "Oh my gods, what are you doing in here, Fabian?"
Fabian didn't move.
"Oh shite, right." Hermione waved her hand and released the wizard. "Now, what the hell are you doing-"
"Did you just do that wandless?" Fabian asked, a hint of manic awe lacing his voice, as his rigid body loosened and flopped onto the bed.
"Well, I suppose I- no, I'm asking the questions here." Tell him, Granger. "What the hell are you doing in my room? Everyone else is supposed to be downstairs."
Fabian shrugged his large shoulder. "I followed you up, this room is concerningly poorly warded, I would've expected better from the Order's secret weapon."
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I didn't think I'd need to cast a ward whilst I used the loo."
"Constant vigilance, Hermione." The wizard smiled.
"Noted." Hermione motioned to the door she noticed had been shut. "Well, shall we return then."
Fabian was off the bed and by Hermione's side with a speed that made the witch flinch, but her reflexes were quicker, honed by darker times than this wizard had yet to see.
Fabian glanced down at the wand now held to his throat.
"A bit nervous, then?" He smiled. "We're on the same side, yea?"
"What do you want, Fabian?" Hermione asked, lowering her wand only slightly. Up until this moment she hadn't felt any need to not trust the Prewetts, but Hermione was suddenly aware that this was an Auror who, in her reality, had taken half a dozen death eaters to kill.
And he had snuck into her room. Bloody suspicious, that is.
"I want the truth." Though Hermione had lowered her wand, Fabian had not moved.
"You were given the truth."
"Yes, part of it." Fabian admitted with a nod. "I want the whole truth."
"I can honestly tell you I have no clue what you mean."
"Well," Fabian began, "you know about Riddle and the death eaters, and you know about horcruxes and how to find them, but how?"
"How?" Hermione frowned. "How which part?"
"How do you know how to find them?"
Hermione rolled her tongue across her teeth behind her lips and studied the sizeable wizard before her. Not so good at taking order, yea? Just like the twins. "McGonagall wants that information to stay classified."
"I don't think that's information that should stay classified."
"Listen, Fabian, I don't really care if you trust me." Hermione sighed, feigning boredness. "But if you'd like to know more, you'd need to take that up with McGonagall, not me."
Fabian's eyes darkened as he lowered his face to meet hers. "I'm not sure who you are, Hermione Granger-"
"I'm Hermione Granger." Her voice was hard. This bloody arsehole is trying to intimidate me.
"But I've seen too many of my own friend's, good witches and wizards, die and I'm not particularly interested in seeing anymore-"
"I can assure you," Hermione's voice softened a touch, "I don't want to see anyone else die either."
Fabian raised a red eyebrow, "Else?"
"Else." Hermione nodded. "We're on the same side, Prewett."
Tilting his head to the side, Fabian's eyes bore into Hermione, their faces so close she felt the ghost of his breath on her skin.
"We'll see." He whispered in a voice that made Hermione tighten the grip on her wand still raised, all traces of amiability gone.
"Hermione?" A voice from the hallway called and Fabian moved from Hermione in one stride of his long legs just before Remus appeared in the doorway.
"Hermione, is everything- oh," Remus stopped, his eyes flicking between the witch and the smiling wizard her wand remained pointed at. "What's uhhh, what's going on, then?"
"Got a bit lost trying to find the loo myself." Fabian laughed, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets and Hermione briefly marveled at his ability to go from intimidating Auror to jovial wizard.
Remus looked again at the wand in Hermione's hand. "Right…" Their eyes met across the room and Hermione gave the barest shake of her head. "One more flight up." Remus moved from the doorway and Fabian slid past him.
"Of course," Fabian shook his head, "too many floors in this house."
Remus waited until they could hear Fabian's footsteps ascend the stairs and Hermione assumed he was intentionally letting them know he was gone.
Perhaps they're not quite so much like George and Fred as I thought…
"Are you alright?" Remus shut the door and quickly closed the distance between himself and Hermione. Putting his hands on her shoulder, he leaned down to look into her face.
"Yes, I'm fine." Hermione lowered her wand and fought a knot of tension she hadn't realized was there to relax her shoulders.
"What the hell was that about?" Remus asked.
The witch sighed and squeezed the bridge of her small nose. "Fabian doesn't trust me. None of them bloody trust me."
Remus shrugged and cocked his head to the side, making a gesture as if to say that should be obvious.
Hermione groaned. "I know! I know they have no reason to trust me. I'm just…" The witch struggled for a moment before admitting, "I'm just not accustomed to this lack of trust, especially from most of those people downstairs."
"Well, most of those people downstairs have all left anyway." Remus squeezed her shoulder. "McGonagall took the time you were gone to reassure them again that you could be trusted and give them each their individual missions- hey, don't sigh like that, it'll all be alright."
Remus pulled Hermione to his chest as the witch took a deep, sob repressing breath, exhaustion finally overcoming her.
"Oh, Remus I'm just," she sighed into his shirt, "I'm just so worried that I've doomed you all."
Remus chuckled and Hermione felt the sound well up deep within his chest. "Silly witch, you're our only chance. Without you we definitely would've been doomed. Without you James and Lily and Harry may all be dead right now rather than in hiding."
"I just-" Hermione began.
"Oh, do shut up, witch." Remus rested his cheek on her head and Hermione gave him a gentle punch, but ultimately melted into his arms.