Falling Towards Danger
"That bleeding traitor," Ron swore as they regained their balance post apparition, "can you believe Luna's dad nearly turned you into bleeding You-know-Who?"
"He's worried about his daughter Ron, of course he would—" Hermione sighed, leaning against the tree, her head in her hands, applying pressure to her temples.
That was close. Closer than she'd remember.
They had gone back to Lovegoods. If there was any hope of Harry making the connection of the Elder Wand to Voldemort and the other Hollows, it would have to come from hearing the story from Xenophilous. Of course, she could have read them the story but she doubted either Harry or Ron would think twice of it. The story needed to be told with the eccentric, fairytale manner only Xenophilous could muster, not her cold, familiar matter of fact. Fanatical, she remembered, had been more factual for them in the long run.
The same chaos had ensued. Promises of Luna and the obscure soup she was fishing for. The story of the Deathly Hallows. The betrayal and getaway courtesy of the Erumpent Horn.
But it had been different Death Eaters that came this time. Two that were more quick to believe Lovegood. If it hadn't been for previously knowing how to execute an escape, Hermione doubted they would have been able to think as quick as they had and may have ended up at the manor a head of schedule.
"Hermione you're bleeding," Harry said, his hand gingerly touching her shoulder. Ron stopped his bitter rant against Lovegood and looked over alarmed. Hermione looked down to her shoulder and saw a jagged cut that reached down from her shoulder top.
"Did I splinch myself?" She asked, trying to twist her neck to her a better view. As she did she could feel a sharp pain in her twist. Her shirt had little blood marks, nothing too alarming. You had been to focused on getting them out. That's all. Your not losing your edge.
But even that she knew was a lie. Because as they came crashing down to the first floor of the Lovegood home, she had thought of Harry telling her about a chandelier crashing down. She hasn't been awake to see it fall herself, but she knew it had. And that it had helped them escape before.
She had been thinking of next close shave in her journal.
She had been thinking of the Manor.
"Doesn't look to deep," Harry said, his finger gently outlining the gash, "Ron, can you fetch the dittany?"
"On it," he answered, picking up the purse she had dropped on their arrival. He walked over the little bottle and handed it to Harry. "There, now we'll all have splich scars," Ron said with a smirk.
"Not exactly the matching tattoos Ginny thought we'd get," Harry answered with a dark chuckle, "But I suppose Fred wouldn't have a protest to it?" He said looking at Hermione cautiously.
"Oh contraire" Hermione dead panned, "if I come back less than 100% of how I left he's liable to kill you both."
They all laughed, although Ron less than Harry. Since Ron's homecoming, she had noticed Harry would bring Fred up more in passing. Just little quips. She didn't know if it was meant to raise her spirits, or give her hope—if one Weasley son could come back asking for forgiveness maybe another one could as well—
She didn't know if Fred would have that reaction anymore. She knew at one point he would have. Perhaps he would still. They'd all just have to live and see.
She would shoot Harry the occasional dirty look when he did this, or try and remind him they broke up. But he persisted, as though he—like George—we're still subscribed to the idea of the two of them together.
Harry and Ron went to work setting up the tent. Hermione had apparate them out to Broadchurch, or at least a while out of Broadchurch. Rather than the vast swarm of trees a forest would offer it was an open field. Her wand work would make them invisible, and after the close shave that had been the Lovegoods, she wanted one night where they could see everything around them.
Besides, they had stocked up on Freshwater that morning and she still had food stocks for dinner. They didn't have to get crafty. Not tonight.
"How come you didn't know about Luna?" Harry asked Ron once they were all safe and tucked into the tent. "If they had taken her from the train—"
"Told you mate, I only knew what Bill did and what I could get from Potterwatch."
"But surely your parents and Ginny knew about Luna," Hermione started, "They would have told Bill—"
"Oh they would have made, but don't know if they could have," Ron shrugged, "Bill said Dad figures there are Death Eaters watching the House 24/7 since the wedding. Fred and George only pop in the first Sunday of every month for Dinner, maybe once or twice more to visit the ghoul. Mum and Dad won't let them come any more than that least the Death Eaters think they're doing stuff for the Order. Kingsley's on the run and Remus knows better—I guess Tonks used to Apparate in looking like Charlie every now and again but she can't do full body transformations now that she's pregnant."
"So the Order can't really meet anymore—" Hermione surmised.
"Not in the slightest. Really they only can get news through Potterwatch. I dunno how but Fred and George get information and they broadcast it out. They'll pass coded messages every now and then—but I think the Order only exists in small circles now. I wouldn't be surprised if McGonagall has some underground ring at Hogwarts now."
"Probably brought back loads of Toad Faces decrees," Harry squirmed, "do you think they'll have to give Snape a portrait in the Headmasters Office? Or could we just chuck it in the Room off Requirement?"
"I'm sure they'll put him where he belongs," Hermione said vaguely, falling into her chair only because you'll insist on it, she thought looking at Harry.
"Here, Hermione I'll make dinner tonight," Harry said, getting up and touching her shoulder, tickling against the dittany.
"Yeah, me too," Ron said, getting up from his chair. He put a log in the stove and turned to offer her the battered copy of Beetle the Bard before following Harry's lead, playfully messing with her hair as he left.
She tried to lose herself in the sounds around her. The wood crackling in the fire. The boys banging pots and spilling rice on the counter top. The howl of the wind outside.
But none of those sounds could chase the memory of Malfoy Manor out of her. It lingered heavy against her mind. It was as if she was still on the ground, this time trapped by the chandelier, hindering any escape—pinning her to that hell—
She sat up straighter and drew her wand. "Accio journal" she said and the old worn book zoomed from her bunk, this time she hoped, offering a solution she may have missed.
((*))
She didn't want to go.
That fact was as clear as day.
But, as she sat in the door of the tent keeping watch, Ron and Harry softly snoring in their beds behind her, she didn't see any other way.
She looked back down at the journal, her fresh scribbles in a nonsense pattern as she tried to identify what had to happen.
Paramount, Harry needed to take Draco's wand from him.
But that was fluid, Hermione thought to herself. They didn't have to get Malfoy's wand in Malfoy Manor. They could disarm him as he walked off the train from Easter Holidays, tucked under the invisibility cloak, disappearing into the air the moment they had it.
She'd try and tell Harry about a hunch she had about the Elder wand. She wouldn't tell him flat out. Just plant a seed and Harry would take it from there. If there had ever been something he liked obsessing about it was theories based on Draco Malfoy—at least that had been enough last year.
It would be tricky and dangerous, but it would get her out of the drawing room.
So the wand was optional—
But, she thought quickly, a phantom pain carving on to her arm, the Horcrux isn't.
She knew the horcrux was in the vault. It would take more than a theory for her to convince the boys to break into Gringotts. They could find someone's hair, maybe summon one from Draco's head when they get the wand, but they didn't have a Gringotts goblin.
Griphook wasn't a Gringotts Goblin, she remembered. They had used the imperious curse the last time.
So they'd do it again—-
It felt like she'd be putting too much hope in luck and things working out as they had last time. Last time, minus her torturing experience, they had walked out of Malfoy Manor with more in their favor than not. Last time it had offered them a treasure trove that pushed them to the end.
Hermione has been tortured and they had lost Dobby.
But Harry has got the Elder Wand, albeit unknowingly. She truthfully didn't think he had made that connection until he had been dueling Voldemort. They had rescued Luna, Dean and Ollivander—and Griphook too for that matter. They had gotten one of Bellatrix's hairs. They had enough meat to form a theory of a Horcrux in the LeStrange vault.
Alright, so they needed to go to the Manor. They needed to go to rescue those people. But she didn't need to be tortured did she?
She strained her mind, again trying to remember what had happened. Greyback had brought them in. Her skin crawled at the memory, she could smell his bloody breath, the iron mixed with a foul stench that lingered in the air. He has wanted her. He would have had her too—
If Bellatrix hadn't seen the sword.
She had been polishing it. Which was ridiculous, it was Goblin made, there was no need. It's not as if they had been using it to chop up carrots. It has only been used for the Horcrux—
But Bellatrix has seen the sword and separated her from the boys.
That had given the boys time to get out, she reminded herself, they had come up with an escape plan—
And it came in the knick of time, just before Bellatrix threw her to Greyback.
Harry has to choose, Hallows or Horcruxes, she thought, now you do the same.
It's not bloody fair.
What she wanted to do, what she longed to do, was apparate from the tent to Number 93 Diagon Alley, and throw herself into Fred's bewildered arms. She just had to tell him what was headed for her and those arms would circle in around her, refusing to open. The world could end, it could burn to the ground. Fred would allow that to happen before he would allow Hermione, voluntary or otherwise, to go through her personal hell. No, she would stay, safe and sound in those arms until the fires came to claim them too. And in those arms she'd stay through the hell fire that waited for them or the Spanish Sun of heaven they both deserved.
And if Fred wouldn't, she knew George would. He wouldn't give her up to Bellatrix, not for the whole wide world.
The wind blew the top of the grass outside the tent. Hermione could look up and see the perfect celestial sky stretched over Dorset. There had to be another way, some way around her fate. She and Fred has managed meddling in all sorts of things, surely they could meddle still. After all, Dean had escaped his fate, she knew he was running around saving muggleborns with Seamus, he didn't need a rescue.
Maybe Luna has gotten away, maybe Ollivander too—
She looked at the twinkling stars and was instantly brought back to the twinkling eyes of Dumbledore. For the greater good, she swore angrily in her head, for whose greater good Dumbledore.
She jumped when she heard movement behind her, her arm in a firm right hook, wand held tight in the other she turned just as Ron ducked.
"Easy now," he said hands up, "it's late, you've done your watch you can a sleep. I'm relieving you, don't shoot."
She slowly relaxed, "It's alright,my mind's still going full steam. You go to sleep Ron, I can't."
He shook his head and grabbed a blanket from the chair and drapping it around his shoulders. Hermione scoot over to give him room at the mouth of the tent.
Silence lingered, save the rustle of the tall grass. They hadn't had one on one time since he had come back.
What do you say to the boy whose heart you broke?
"Clever of you, back there with the Erumpent horn," Ron said, staring up at the stars, "Really."
She smirked, casting her eyes up as well, "Really we're lucky Lovegoods a fool when it comes to home decor," she laughed.
"Well were all fools when it comes to love," Ron said quickly, and then realizing what he said pressed his lips together, Hermione could see his ears pink in the moonlight.
"Yeah. Yeah that's true," she said, keeping her eyes on the sky, "Lovegood and creatures, Hagrid and creatures—"
She was hoping she was steering away from the hippogriff in the tent but obviously she wouldn't get to be that lucky.
"And me. Just me," he sighed,a puff of breath coming out as he did. "Hermione, I'm—"
"Its alright Ron, we don't have to talk about it," she said, looking at his face, he'd been back a few weeks now. It was water under the bridge. She had granted her pardon that Christmas morning—why did he need to bring this up?
"I know, but I need to," Ron explained, leaning against the tent pole, looking down at her. "Hermione, I never should have said what I said to you. Whether it's Fred or Victor, I never should have behaved the way I did."
The grass rustled again, she looked at him surprised, "Ron—"
"I think after I broke up with Lavender I made a lot of assumptions," he said, scratching the back of his neck, " Assumptions about myself, about love, about you—" he said, his eyes flicking towards her, "I knew we would be following Harry, and I was thinking of our constants, and they were friendship, defeating You-Know-Who and each other. I think I figured we'd always been there, we could always be there just with the occasional snog."
He saved her by laughing first. Soon the two of them were shaking with laughter in the doorway, their releasing breath puffing like clouds into the night sky.
She leaned her head on his shoulder, "Oh we'll always have each other Ron," she said, "but never with snogging benefits."
She felt his shoulders move as he chuckled, "I know," he paused, "I'm sorry—I think I was just lonely after Lav and I put too much hope into a rebound with you."
She lifted her head from his shoulder, "Who knows, maybe when all of this is over you and Lavender could have a proper chance? She can't be jealous of Hermione Granger when she has her war hero ex-boyfriend waltzing in to save the day."
"Maybe," Ron said, looking down from the stars and at her now, "but truthfully, it'll be seeing Hermione Granger with Fred Weasley that will put her mind at ease."
Hermione's eyes turned to the ground. "As much as I'd like to say otherwise, I'm pretty sure I put the nail in the coffin there."
"I don't think so," Ron said quickly, "I—er—might have run into Fred when I was at Bill's—"
Her head popped up in an instant, "you did?"
"I did," Ron answered, "Mind you I punched him in the mouth for dating you and he busted my lip for leaving you and Harry—"
"You're lucky it was just the lip," Hermione said, trying to hide her smirk. She could feel a bubbly sensation usually reserved for her stomach tickling her cheeks. Damn him for having this effect on her after everything that had happened—
"Oh I know it," Ron laughed, his thumb brushing a phantom wound on his lip, "I'd never seen him in that rare a form. If you ask me Hermione, as someone who knows the feeling, I don't think he's gotten over you. I don't think he knows how to."
She turned her eyes to the horizon, still blanketed in velvet star light, "it's a happy thought, and thank you for it Ron—I just don't know—"
"You changed him Hermione," he cut her off, "In a good way. I can see that. And if you ask me he still loves you. That didn't change. Whatever made him upset made him lose his temper—and you better than anyone should know how a Weasley man regrets when he loses his temper—"
Perhaps he's right, Hermione thought. Perhaps the safe arms she longed for were still hers. "Who knows, maybe when all of this is over we can survive only to have your mum ring our necks for sneaking around her for over a year."
"Nah," Ron said, putting an arm around her, "she'll let you live. She can see the changes in Fred too."
Hermione looked up at the stars. She could clearly see the dippers and a scatter of Cassiopeia. It was beautiful, and she could feel her mind calming down, she just wished she could see what she was looking for now, laid out plainly in the stars: a way out of danger and a way back to Fred.
"Maybe," Hermione muttered, still looking with hopes to the heavens, as though wishing on every star, "Maybe."
((*))
The thought came to Hermione outside of an M&S a few weeks later.
She had wandered into Inverness that morning under the cloak, apparating outside of the train station in the side alley before turning the corner to get some fresh pastries. It was Ron's Birthday and while she couldn't promise a cake, she had justified a quick run in for one of their decorative cakes. She had the cloak, she knew the time line. They could have some ruddy cakes.
She had just walked up the steps when she could see an Easter display behind the glass. Boxes of Purple Cadbury chocolate, cream filled eggs wrapped in colorful paper.
Easter was coming.
A little sign on the corner in bright yellow told her Easter was still a while off. It was only March 1 and Easter Sunday was apparently April 12. Weeks away still. Hogwarts had always let them have two weeks in the spring, Ginny would be headed home in four weeks time—
She'd be at the Manor in less than 5 weeks.
Their trip to the Lovegoods had revealed that Luna had been kidnapped still. Fred hadn't been able to stop that. Ginny was still in danger.
She walked into the store and picked up her provisions, acting on auto-pilot. She tucked her change in a Marie Curie tin and sped outside.
Hermione didn't apparate back to camp, not directly. It was a meadow where she cast her protective charms and sat down on a rock. It was early afternoon. He'd probably be at the shop. She should have been smarter and left him a two way notebook, why had she gone on with the mirror? That's simple, you're a foolish romantic…
"Expecto Avis" she whispered and three little gold birds appeared. "This is a long shot, but I need you to bully Fred into the back room. Don't let him be in public when the patronus arrives."
The littlest bird let out a song of understanding as the three vanished from sight. This might work yet. She raised her wand a second time, her voice a little louder and clearer as she said " Expecto Patronum."
((*))
Fred didn't know where the birds came from.
He was in the shop, walking around putting inventory away when a little golden bird attacked his head.
Any amusement he may have had with the first bird disappeared with the second and thirds appearance. Poking his head, their little beaks making quick work of his knuckles.
"Oy George, shut the windows, I'm under attack," Fred cried as he came down the stairs, swatting the little cherubs that were easily evading his reach, coming close enough to nip his fingers.
"George?" He called but got no answer. Verity was at the till helping someone, he'd tuck into the back and see if his brother could help him. It's as if the birds knew where his wand was tucked away, they wouldn't let his hand get close enough to stop them. If it had been a year a go he'd have thought it was Zonkos trying to intact revenge for stolen business—-Maybe the Death Eaters had gotten clever?
George wasn't in the back workshop, so he ducked through a curtain that led to the supply closet, the birds didn't get through the thick, heavy drape. He could still hear their shrilling song. Carefully, he glanced through a crack and saw where they now stood guard as sentinels against the door connecting the workshop to the shop, a bluish glow he has noticed floating about them.
He was being held hostage by little gold demon birds. He supposed after running and alluding Death Eaters as long as he had, this would make a lovely turn of events for his obituary.
Then he noticed a bright bluish glow out of the corner of his eye. It had started soft but was stronger now, illuminating the little closet tothe brightness of noon.
An otter, a familiar otter treading in place, bobbing in front of him as though stopped in a river.
"It's getting closer," Hermione's voice started. It was clear and full of warning, as though she was stressing each word. "We're getting quite closer to the end. If things go according to plan though, Ron could be exposed and Ginny will be at risk. Get her out now. We can't let her become the next Luna."
The otter twirled, and for a moment Fred thought she was leaving just like that. But it didn't. It looked back to Fred and while it didn't have her emotions, it was as if he could imagine her eyes in its face. "I know I did a lot of things wrong Fred, but I thought it was right. I thought I was making things right—somethings coming and if it goes wrong—please know I still loved you in the end." Her voice was heavier now. Fred extended his hand, as though he was trying to reach for her, touch her, try to reassure he felt the same, that everything would be alright still—
"Good-bye Fred," she said in a tiny whisper and the patronus faded away, disappearing as suddenly as it had appeared.
Fred stood in the closet a few moments more. That's when he realized the birds had disappeared, their song absent.
Goodbye-Fred.
Goodbye.
He sprung into action as though catapulted through the air. Flying up the stairs, he threw the door open, making both Angelina and George jump apart from each other, the one having been helping show the other how to make a turkey sandwich with one arm wrapped around their partner.
"Fred!" Angelina cried, looking up with more alarm than annoyance, but he didn't stop. He kept going to the bedroom and dug under his pillow, reaching extinctly for the little hand mirror with silver roses.
"Show me the girl," he spat out, shaking the mirror with such force he was afraid the glass would come loose and break, "Show me Hermione."
The fog of the mirror cleared and he saw Hermione walking back into camp with a shop bag in hand. "Happy Birthday Ron!" She called out with a grin. Harry and Ron saw the little cakes she had in hand and their faces lit up.
Nothing was out of place, Fred thought. There wasn't any sign of danger. There wasn't an axe man looming over head. She wasn't walking a plank. There wasn't a Death Eater with a wand at her throat.
If there had been a threat he would have seen it in Ron and Harry's face. Ron's was an awful poker face. It would have been tighter, he carried his worries in his eye brows. Harry did a better job, but he didn't see fear or anticipation in the emerald eyes. He genuinely looked happy, taking the little cake Hermione had brought back.
That meant whatever Hermione was planning, she was doing by herself. To make sure some damn fixed point saw itself through. She knew something the boys didn't and what she knew, if successful, it would be dangerous. It could prove fatal
And it was a risky operation. One where Ron could be exposed.
But it was more than that. She had sent him a patronus; yes it was for Ginny, but she had said goodbye—in case —
Please know I still loved you in the end.
It had been a warning, but it had also been a goodbye. In case her luck didn't hold. In case he never saw her again beyond the magic mirror.
She had made it all past tense. Just in case she became something that would only ever exists there. Tucked in his memories of laughing and loving under the Spanish sun.
He reached for the copy he had made of her journal, also under his pillow. His two momentos of her. He flipped to the back quarter. She didn't have a lot, the last big entry had been regarding the destruction of the Quibbler Press by Death Eaters. There was only one thing sandwiched between the Quibbler and Teddy Lupin's birth. It had been one word; no further details. He had almost discarded it as a mental note more than a momentous event. Snatchers.
Were they going to get caught? Where would they take them if they were? How would the three of them, two undesirables and a blood traitor, get out of that…
She wouldn't let it happen twice though, he reasoned, if they had been snatched before Hermione wouldn't let it happen again.
He slipped the mirror in his back pocket and the journal back to its spot under the pillow.
"George," he yelled. The door opening quickly, Fred assuming both be and Angelina had been waiting behind, anxious to find out what it was that had happened.
"Mate, what the bloody hell—"
"It's Ginny, we need to bust her out," he said, trying to keep the emotions of Hermione's goodbye out of his voice. "Hermione sent a warning, she says they're planning something that could expose Ron."
Angelina brought her hand to cover her mouth while he watched George clench his jaw.
He knew what he was thinking. If they were going to risk exposure, that meant it was near the Endgame. Whether the trio knew it themselves, he knew Hermione knew and that would prove enough to send electricity and dread down his spine.
"We need to tell Dad," George said firmly, he turned to Angelina, "Mind watching the shop with Verts downstairs?"
Angelina nodded,looking first to Fred and then his brother as she turned around and headed back down the hall.
"You're sure it was Hermione?" George said once he heard the door click, "if we go in telling mum and dad this, that Ginny's in danger—"
"Dad's been ready to go into hiding since the wedding, he's been waiting for something like this," Fred shrugged.
"They're going to ask why Hermione sent you a patronus," George said, "why'd she sent it to you and not them."
"Then let's put my failed relationship in the family newsletter," Fred said dramatically, throwing his arms out in front of him, "I'd rather have that out in the open than explain to mum how we let Ginny go to Azkaban," Fred spat, his voice rougher than he meant. "Come on George, you know Hermione wouldn't warm us unless there was merit. If they found out about Luna Lovegood, they're probably trying to spare mum—"
"Right," George said cautiously, "did she give you a time table?"
"She didn't give me a date, just said soon," Fred said wearily, "Georgie, I think—"
"It's coming close to an end?" his brother finished, sitting down next to him, "I think you're right. And thank God for that. I can't imagine they'd want to drag this out any longer than necessary. He got up and pulled a coin from the dish on his dresser, "Probably for the best we start carrying these again. Remember how Ginny said she and Neville would use them if the three showed up at Hogwarts?"
"You think that's where it'll end?" Fred asked surprised. If he hadn't read her journal, he didn't think he'd make the Hogwarts connection.
"I think Dumbledore's army will be there. So maybe it'll be Hogwarts, maybe they'll find a way to break out and fly threastles into battle. Be quite the sight if you saw Neville and Ginny flying into battle like valkyries, twirling the sword of Gryffindor overhead."
Fred let out a little laugh, then turned and looked at the door. "We could go tonight, have the girls lock up. If we have a birthday gift for Ron if anyone's watching the house they wouldn't think twice about us stopping in on a weekday."
"Good idea," George said, clapping his back before he got up for the door.
"George—d'you think— if Hermione's out sending warnings and good byes—" He asked, tripping over the words as he said them.
His brother turned around with a sad face, She knows what she doing Fred. And as worried as I am I can't imagine how you're coping; after what happened to Lee—" his voice gave an uncharacteristic crack, " I want her home making cracks about my coffee about as much as you do."
((*))
It was early Saturday morning when Fred and George stood besides the iron gates atopped with winged boars. The mountains were covered by fog. Rain drizzled down on them, the typical Scottish spring going on uninterrupted by Death Eaters.
It was well before dawn. McGonagall's instructions had been to the letter. They were to meet her at the gates at five in the morning. She would come down to the castle with Ginny and they would apparate to the Burrow from the edges of the Forbidden Forrest.
The story they were spreading was that Ron had taken a turn for the worst. George had been developing the Capitulate Crumble, a skiving snack that mimicked death. The plan was for them to fine tune it this week and give it to the ghoul. They'd have someone from St Mungos come down and declare Ron dead. They're father would wrap a dummy in a blanket and have it buried in the back orchard. Spattergoit was most contagious after death. There wouldn't be a medical examiner in the world who'd want to conduct an autopsy.
Ron would die in two weeks time, they'd hold a service in the orchard the week after. At that point, it'd be silly to send Ginny back a few days before Easter Holiday. If this rouse was successful, they'd have Ginny, giving Hermione and the boys five weeks to make their move and give them a reason to go into hiding.
Fred saw a solitary figure come down from the castle. He couldn't tell who it was from a distance but as she got closer he recognized the strong strides of Professor McGonagall.
She was dressed in long, dark, dress robes. Black lace along her wrists and a similar black laced shawl draping her head. He was surprised. She hadn't had that much mourning clothes at Dumbledore's funeral. Had something inside Minerva McGonagall snapped where she was mourning her school and everything that had been?
"We don't have much time boys," she said in a whisper, tapping the air. Ginny appeared, disillusion charm lifted. She looked confused, from McGonagall to her brothers "what's going on?"
"The Order's received information your at threat Gin," George said quietly, quickly taking a cloak that held a disillusionment charm on it and wrapping it around her shoulders. "We can't let you go the same way as Luna."
Ginny clenched her jaw and looked from her brothers to McGonagall, "But Nev—"
"I'll keep an eye on Mr Longbottom," McGonagall said sincerely, "I'll keep an eye on all of them."
"Do they know we're taking her?" Fred asked, the party walking further along the border of the forest, towards Hogsmead.
"Good heavens no," McGonagall chided. "Pomona and I agreed we'd tell Snape long after you were gone. We'll say your father reached me late last night with details about your sick brother. It's the anniversary of my husbands passing this weekend, I'll have taken advantage of your fathers request to have visited his grave."
"Couldn't you just go on your own if you wanted?" Fred asked as they came to a spot outside the schools boundaries.
"The towns banned to both students and faculty Mr Weasley," she sighed, " they seem to think some of us were responsible for the eight that escaped last fall during Hogsmead weekend."
"Were you?" Ginny asked, " I had always wondered."
"It becomes one's duty to throw off oppressive governments," she said and Fred could have sworn he saw a sparkle in her eyes "Or school masters for that matter." She stopped looking at the three of them and then again to the castle.
"Nothing in the sky from Pomona, they don't know your missing yet. You three," she looked down at each of them, her eyes resting on Ginny the longest, "You are to be careful. I've lost enough of Gryffindor house to these people, I refuse to lose anymore, especially you."
It had been the closest to an I love you he had ever heard from McGonagall. But the sentiment was there. George clasped her hand and in a steady, less jovial voice sighed, "You too Professor."
Fred was grateful for the darkness. He wouldn't have wanted to see these emotions on Minerva McGonagall's face. She took George's hand and guided it to Ginny's, reaching out for Fred's to bring it to his siblings.
"Go," she whispered, pulling her shawl more tightly around her head, "And don't come back till it's time."
She stepped back. Fred looked at his brother who nodded. He saw him squeeze Ginny's hand, " Hold tight Ginny," he said before they disappeared into the night with the softest pop.
((*))
His mother's arms engulfed the three of them when they stepped into the Burrows protective boundaries.
"You made it," she cried, her voice ripe with emotion as she kissed the top of each child's head, always muttering the same like a prayer, you made it, you made it, you made it.
"Come on mum, lets get inside," Fred said helping Ginny and his mother up, his eyes surveying the horizon for anyone who may have seen the reunion, "come on."
To her credit, Ginny waited till they got inside to ask her questions, "What happened? Professor McGonagall got me this morning and told me there was something wrong with Ron—and then they tell me there's a threat—"
"Ron's fine Gin," George said waving his wand as four mugs zoomed in from the kitchen. His mother raised her wand and they filled with steaming hot tea. "He's fine, they're all fine as far as we know—"
"Then why and I here?" She interrupted, her features in a glare mastered by their mother, "I should be at the school helping Neville."
"Hermione sent a patronus to your brother," Their mother explained. "She said they were planning something that could possibly expose Ron. And if that happened—"
"They'd realize that he wasn't dying of Spattergoit," Ginny answered, awareness dawning on her face. She looked at her brothers, "Are you going into hiding then?"
George looked to Fred, it was something they had talked about that morning. "Not yet," Fred answered, "we have the shop set up so we can leave at a moment's notice. But we're going to try and play our bluff first."
Ginny looked at her mother confused, "What?"
"We're pretending Ron's dying. Bill has a friend who works as a healer at St Mungos, Rownan. Next Monday she's going to come to the house and declare your brother dead."
"But St Mungos comes in pairs, there has to be two witnesses—"
"Your brothers are making skivers that will make the ghoul look like he's deteriorating. Rownan and her associate will come twice and then the third time we'll give him the knock out one and she'll sign his death certificate."
"Skivers Mum," George laughed drinking his tea, "I never thought I'd see the day you'd try naming our product."
"Alright, so Ron dies," Ginny said casually, ignoring George. "I'm not going to be able to stay here once he's buried—they'll come to get me."
"The plan is going to take two or three weeks to execute, and after that your Easter Holiday" George answered. "We're—"
"We're hoping that five weeks gives them enough time to act. Because once they do we're all going to go into hiding," Fred explained, "Bill has Shell Cottage under everything save the Fidelius Charm. And Auntie Muriel has Avalon under tighter security than when Arthur found it."
Fred would never say he had seen Ginny scared. Ginny hasn't shown that emotion since her first year. But looking at her now, swallowed in a blanket drinking her tea Fred could see a shadow of the sixteen year old who had grown up too quick since last he'd seen her.
"Have we heard anything about Luna?" She asked not looking up from her tea.
Mum shook her head, reaching her hand out to touch her daughter arm. "No, not yet," she said, "They took in Xeno not long after Christmas holiday so wherever Luna is they're probably together."
Ginny nodded with a sniff, getting up. "Can I go to bed Mum?"
"Of course love," she said as Ginny headed up the stairs disappearing at the first landing.
"Was she alright when you guys got her?" She asked looking up at the door unconvinced.
"She didn't want to leave Neville Longbottom," George shrugged, "Honestly wouldn't have been bad to have gotten Neville. Could of said his Nan had a fall?"
"I'm not facing Augusta Longbottom," His mother laughed, it was a short lived one. She looked at her tea, a spoon swirling it in front of her, " Truth be told their probably just as anxious to get the Longbottoms under their thumb. They're going to be as big a blood traitor family as the Weasleys by the time this is all over."
George took his mug and clincked it against hers. "Cheers to that."
Fred watched his mother's face, it was unmoved from George's cheer. Instead her eyebrows seemed to knit together. She must have felt his eyes on her as she looked up at him.
"So it was you Hermione was running around seeing?" Mrs Weasley said looking over her tea cup to Fred. "Your father and I couldn't figure out if it was you or George."
Fred felt his insides fall and hoped his face wasn't flush. He had thought this would have been brought up a few days ago when they told their parents the warning. You thought you were lucky—that they wouldn't bring it up.
He nodded, looking down into his cup, not daring to look at George's reaction. "And when were you planning on telling me this? After you eloped?"
"That's not happening mum,"he said quickly and quietly, "were not together anymore."
"Pity," She sighed, picking up her mug and heading to the kitchen, "I could've used something to cheer me up."
((*))
The three of them were sitting in the living area of the tent that evening.
Harry was leaning back into his chair, his fingers tracing the outline of the snitch in his hands while Hermione looked through Beedle the Bard for the umpteenth time. Ron was sprawled on the floor, trying to coax the radio with Order tied passwords, desperate that this time he'd find Potterwatch.
"I thought you gave the password when the Sunshine song played," Harry said, looking up from the Snitch.
"You never know. They could have changed it, I haven't been able to pick it up since I came back,"Ron shrugged, "figured it was worth a try."
He tucked his head down, still trying. Hermione looked at Harry and closed the book slowly.
"Harry, I was thinking of something—something Lovegood said—"
Harry turned to her and raised an eyebrow, "Reconsidering the Crumbled Horn Snorkack?" He asked.
"No," she said simply, shaking her head in mild disgust, "No it was about the Hallows—the Elder Wand—"
This was it, she thought, she was going to try and plant an idea in Harry Potter's thick skull, hoping that it would be enough to make him remember when the moment demanded it.
Last time she hadn't given it any thought. She had told Harry Voldemort wouldn't be abroad looking for some obscure trinket. She kept telling him to close his mind and shut him out.
Now she was trying to open it.
"What about it? I thought you thought it was just a kids story?"
"Well it could be—but sometimes there's truth tucked in the lore of it all. I mean, remember the Chamber of Secrets?"
Harry have a little smirk. "What are you thinking Hermione?"
"Lovegood said the wand had gone missing—but you think Gregorovitch had it and it was stolen—Harry, besides You-Know-Who, Who was the most notorious wizard of the twentieth century?"
His brows furrowed. "Hermione you know I was rubbish at History of Magic—"
"Grindelwald," she interrupted, mild annoyance bubbling over, " Grindelwald Harry. And he lost the duel to Dumbledore. And if a wands loyalty goes to the person who defeated its master—"
"Than Dumbledore has the Elder Wand?" Harry asked, doubtful and surprise intermixed in his voice, "Hermione—don't you think we'd know—"
"Did we know everything about Dumbledore?" Hermione asked abruptly, "did we know about him and Grindelwald or about Ariana?"
Harry grew silent. She knew he was fighting with Dumbledores biography as much as she had fought with the living Dumbledore last year. "Harry, you told us Malfoy disarmed Dumbledore before he died. If that's true, and if Dumbledore had the wand, Draco's the master of the Elder wand."
"But they buried the wand with Dumbledore," Harry said slowly, connecting the words and weighing them out, as though he was trying to sense if there was any truth to them.
"If You-Know-Who gets the wand, if he takes it, it won't work because Draco's the wands true master," she insisted, "If you could disarm Draco, the wand would be yours."
Harry's face was screwed, as though he still wasn't sure of what Hermione was proposing, "Hermione—" he started, "Its a good idea but we don't know for sure if Grendelwald had the wand, Dumbledore's wand did extraordinary magic but how much of that was Dumbledore and not the wand?"
"Just think about it," she said annoyed, "I think it's possible. It's more than we have for where the next Horcrux is," she lied as she turned back to her book, eyes looking but not reading the words in front of her.
She could hear the familiar cords of You are my sunshine playing behind her and for a moment excitement fluttered in her heart.
"Albus!" Ron said with triumphant joy, "The password was Albus!"
He rushed towards them, bringing with him the radio and set it in the middle, turning the volume to full blast.
You'll never know dear, how much I love you—
Please don't take my sunshine away.
"Welcome to Potterwatch," said a smooth, familiar voice. Harry and Ron leaned forward with surprise, looking together and saying "Angelina" while Hermione scrutinized the little box. Lee. It was supposed to be Lee Jordan. River.
"This is Rupunzel, radioing in with Rascal—"
"Hello," George said brightly,
"Royal—"
"Evening," the calm presence of Kingsley Shacklebolt rolling through the radio waves.
"Romulus—"
"Hello there," Lupin said warmly.
" Rapier-"
"Did you miss me?" Fred said smartly. His voice clear as day as though he was in there with her.
"And a new friend joining us tonight, Revenge," Angelina finished, " Go ahead and say hello."
"This microphone isn't near as impressive as I thought it'd be," a very familiar voice sounded over the radio, "Hello there. It was either Revenge or Rodent, name pickings are slim around here."
"Ginny!" Harry and Ron bellowed looking at each other, her and the radio sporadically, "Why is she there-why isn't she at the school-"
"Hush," Hermione finished, "Hush-they're still talking."
"-you're lucky we let you spin the name wheel twice," Fred quipped while Angelina tried to shut them up"-As I was saying, we apologize for our absence these last few weeks. Our previous studio was compromised mid February and an uptick in Ministry monitoring had made it difficult to retrieve the radio system," Angelina explained, " we're safe and sound but will be rotating locations to avoid unwelcome ears."
"In connection to that, we regret to inform you of the passing of Lee Jordan—," Kingsley said.
"No—" Hermione said taken aback, Ron and Harry looked at her and leaned forward, motioning for her to be silent. Ginny's on Potterwatch and Lee's dead. Fred, what have you done?
"All of Lee's contributions to the war will be made known when this war ends," Kingsley said as a matter of fact, his voice ringing with promise. "He died trying to escort Muggleborns to safety and transport to France. Penelope Clearwater of Birmingham and her fiancé Justin Arnold, also of Birmingham, were killed as well."
"We also regret to share with our listeners the deaths of Dirk Cresswell and the goblin Gornuk who had been on the run since last fall; as well as Andre Egwu, the former starting chaser for Pride of Portree who was killed on a mission for the Order of the Phoenix. We have also received reports of a werewolf attack on a Muggle family outside of Swindon, parents and two children killed. Muggle Brutality continues with the murders of a Muggle family of five found dead in their home in Gaddy. The Muggle Authorities are chalking it up to a gas leak but we all know better."
"Listeners, we ask a moment of silence for Penelope Clearwater, Justin Arnold, Dirk Criswell, the goblin Gornuk, Andre Egwu, the muggle families of Swindon and Gaddy, and our brother in arms Lee Jordan—"
Silence filled the room and the radio. Hermione's mind, however, was anything but silent. Lee had died trying to bring people to her house, trying to get them out, she was convinced of that. How has the Death Eaters found a way into the house? How bad they gotten Lee? If they had made it to the house, they should have been safe—had one of her charms failed? How had she failed? How had she killed Lee?
Fred, she thought, trying to grapple something to keep her head above whatever it was that was engulfing her, Fred, George what happened?
She was relieved that they heard Ginny. Hermione wondered if Fred had brought her along just on the chance they heard her voice over the radio. Ginny was safe. Lee was Dead. They were all in more danger than they knew-
"That shouldn't have happened," Hermione said, drowning out Kingsley's safety advisories, "I gave Fred and George my parents house—for a safe house for Muggleborns. If Lee was brining Penelope in, He should have had the protection of the house—"
"Maybe the didn't get to the boundaries in time?" Harry said, trying to wave her down. "Shh—"
"—Remember, it's humanity first," Kingsley said, pulling them back in. "We need to do our part to protect those Muggles who don't know they need protecting. Charms on our friends and neighbors houses will be more comfort to you than watching caskets leaving the house."
"Thanks Royal, now onto Rascal and Rapier on how to discern the Chief Death Eater from other magical threats, boys?"
"Oh yes, yes we can" said Fred, his voice beaming, "As our listeners will know, unless they've taken refuge at the bottom of a garden pond or somewhere similar-"
"Our salutes to you," George interrupted.
"Quite right, bravo-anywho, You-Know-Who's strategy of remaining in the shadows is creating a nice little climate of panic. Mind you, if all the alleged sightings are genuine-"
"He's figured out how to go ahead cloning himself and we are in fact screwed," George finished as a matter of fact. "But muggle technology aside, I think it's safe to say we don't have nineteen You-Know-Who's running around, do we Rapier?"
"Thank Merlin no, I don't think we do," Fred laughed, " So, People, kind dear little listeners, gather close and listen to your friends on the radio box-calm down."
"Things are bad enough without inventing stuff as well mind you. For instance, this new idea that You-Know-Who can kill with a single glance from his eyes, that's a Basilisk, listeners. One simple test: check whether the thing that's glaring at you has legs. If it has, its safe to look into its eyes, although frankly if it really is You-Know-Who, that's still likely the last thing you'll ever do."
The three of them chuckled, George's voice pulling them from the laughter, "Revenge, you've seen a Basilisk before, anything you want to add?"
"Their a bit smelly to be honest," Ginny deadpanned, "You'll smell them before you see them, I doubt he's big on Ode de Serpent-"
"You know that could have come from going up and down the schools pipes," Fred laughed, "perhaps in the wild they have a pleasant smell?"
"Oi you three, stop turning my show into a Quibbler Production, Rapier, is it true that He keeps being sighted abroad?" Angelina smirked, reining them in. "Very well your Majesty," Fred said, "Well who wouldn't want a nice little holiday after all the hard work he's been putting in? I know I have a short list of places I'd like to see. The fact of the matter is people," Fred paused, "don't get lulled into a false sense of security, thinking he's out of the country. He has enough henchmen lurking around to do his dirty work for him. Maybe he's abroad, maybe he isn't. But the fact of the matter is he can move faster than Severus Snape when confronted with shampoo when he wants to so don't count on him being a long way gone. I'd never thought I'd hear myself say it, but safety first."
"Ugh my heart," George moaned, "these truly are dark times."
"Let's end on a high note shall we?" Angelina bouncing back, "Let's turn it over now to Romulus and Rapier for our favorite segment, Pals of Potter."
"How come there's two of us covering this time?" Lupin asked amused.
"You're not the only friend of Potter in the Room," Fred said defensively, although she could hear the smirk in his voice, "Would you rather be the friend of Potter and I take undesirables ?"
Hermione rolled her eyes and Harry's leg nudged her knee. "Let's just get through the segment," Lupin chuckled. "We have reports coming in that Rebus Hagrid held a 'Support Harry Potter' tea this afternoon. While we applaud Hagrid and his loyalty to Harry, we remind listeners there are other ways to support the Boy-who-lived than holding tea parties under the nose of known Death Eater."
"Sabotaging Snatchers—" Fred listed.
"Taking in Muggleborns," George chimed.
"Weasley Wheezes new Death Eater Dung Deliveries—"
"We advise listeners do whatever they deem is safe for themselves and their loved ones," Remus finished. "We will report that Hagrid and his brother are safe they are currently in hiding."
"Not an easy task when your brothers a giant," Fred said, "Good for them."
Harry laughed at this, breaking Hermione's focus. She had forgot how much this had lifted his mood. He wasn't on the run, cut off from everyone anymore. At this moment he was in the Gryffindor Tower while Fred and George encouraged him after a particularly nasty Quidditch Practice.
"Hagrid's not the only outspoken Pal of Potter to run into trouble recently; listeners will remember Xenophilius Lovegood, erstwhile editor of The Quibbler was imprisoned at the start of the year. We again encourage listeners to be prudent when supporting Harry."
"We've come to the end of another Potterwatch," Fred started, calling her back. "But before we do, we have a message for Harry and his friends, if they're listening. Romulus?"
"We're all with him in spirit," said Lupin, slightly hesitant, "And I'd tell him to follow his instincts, which are good and nearly always right. You are still the symbol of hope to so many Harry, keep going. Keep at it."
Always right, Hermione thought, the words weighing on her heart. Would they be right in the hours to come? Could he get the wand and save them like he had before?
"And if Sunny is listening," Fred said, her hair standing up on her arms, his words pulling her out of her thoughts " as you may have discovered, the package has been safely retrieved. Please proceed with caution and," he paused for a moment, his voice changing, softer, the shadow of emotion you would've missed if you weren't Sunny, "Please be careful. And safe. You are still expected in Majorca next summer."
Harry and Ron were talking, they missed seeing Hermione reach out for the radio, softly touching the top. Be careful and safe, your still expected in Majorca next summer—
Majorca—
They had Ginny. They all knew that. How they had ever smuggled her out of the Castle let alone the Burrow Hermione would never know. But if they had Ginny, the rest of the family was on guard, they were prepared for the coming moment.
The station clicked and they were again dismissed with the closing cords of You are my Sunshine. Harry stood up quickly, bouncing with the energy and rebellion only Potterwatch could provide. "That was brilliant-that-"
"And they have Ginny!" Ron interrupted, " How the hell d'you think they got her out of the castle?"
"Maybe they're making it looking like your dying of Spattergroit and she's on the deathbed watch?" Hermione suggested, sitting up in her chair, watching the two. Harry and Ron were both grinning like it was Christmas morning. The picture of euphoric bliss.
" I don't care if she's knitting you a shroud mate, she's out of there," he said, clasping Ron on the shoulder, "and that means she's safe and they can't get her. Not like Luna."
"Easter Holidays about to start, maybe they'd try if she stayed and found a way around it," Ron interrupted.
"That's not the only Holiday from the sounds of it," Harry started, "Did you hear Fred? He's abroad! He's still looking for the wand, I knew it!"
"Harry-" Hermione started, "I think the wand's closer than even he thinks-"
"Come on Hermione, if Dumbledore had the Elder Wand, don't you think Vol-"
It wasn't even a minute. It was two syllables, quickly being pushed out of a teenage boys mouth. And in those two syllables she could hear the glass protection of their tent break. She could feel her heart rapidly beating as though it had been dunked in ice cold water.
Ron's voice masked the sudden pops of apparated snatchers outside. Maybe they'd be lucky. Maybe Greyback wouldn't be with them tonight. Maybe they were dim witted ones that would believe their lies.
But she wouldn't bet on maybe's.
"The name's Taboo," Ron bellowed, leaping around as the sneakoscope on the table lit up and began to spin. Hermione didn't hesitate, she raised the spare snatchers wand at both Harry and Ron's face, and then her own face before she snapped it in half and threw it across the room. A white hot burning blurred her vision and she hoped it could buy them more time down the road. She reached for her purse and dragged out Gryffindor's sword, tucking it next to the sofa for them to find—hoping it would buy them time as it had before.
If not time for them, time for the Weasleys go into hiding.
((*))
AN:
Again, this chapter is lovingly dedicated to the elliptical machine at the gym. You might not work as well as the treadmill, but you get the job done.
Also, disclaimer, portions of the Potterwatch broadcast were lifted from the 7th Book. I couldn't let the Snape Shampoo line go away...
When I started writing this story 4 years ago I was on night shift and usually wrote late at night on my days off make it easy to pump out chapters in a week… thankfully, I'm not on nights anymore but as a result you do have to wait a little longer. I hope it was worth it with this one. I've gone through a couple edits (some at the gym some in lunch hour) and its gotten to where I feel alright by it, I hope you feel the same.
I want you all to know I tried, I tried really hard to find a way for our girl. I've been playing with this for the last ten or so chapters. When I started back in 2015 It was an automatic "Well yeah she's going to go through that again" but 2019 Kait fought it. Many walks around the warehouse the last two months usually started with "but if we do this instead...".
Alas, it led us here.
You know what's coming in the next chapter. There will be some surprises, some good some bad. There will be a reprieve for some, but not others. I will promise though a reunion of sorts in Chapter 50. You just go to hang on to that point with me. I promise we'll get there.
Thank you thank you thank you to everyone who continues to read, kuddo, like, follow and comment on this story. You guys are the lovely individuals that keep coming back and making me want to make each chapter better than the last. This story wouldn't have gone on this long without you. I went through the outline again this morning and if things go to plan, we should have a completed story in Spring of 2020. I could not have done this without each and everyone of you. So thank you. From the bottom of my little writer's heart, thank you.
Until next time, have courage and be kind (and do try to study if your headed back to uni. The Library is your friend)...
Love,
Kait
PS- Thank you to those of you who found my little Voldemort Gaff. Went in with some edits and we should be good!