Chapter 4 – Spinning

"I still think he was just sizing us up," Ron said as he leaned his chair back on its back two legs. The magically charmed chalk hovering in front of the blackboard jotted down "sizing us up."

"That makes no sense," said Bill. Ron shot him a dark look, but he continued. "That wouldn't have taken so long and why stage a full attack? Why not just send in a spy or something."

"Maybe he was creating a distraction?" Fleur stared off into space as she spoke.

"But what would he be distracting us from?" Kingsley wondered, as the chalk noted that one down. "Presumably it worked. Shouldn't whatever we were being distracted from have surfaced by now?"

No one offered an answer and they all sat in silence as the chalk hung in the air. Mr. Weasley gave a heavy sigh and leaned against his arm onto the table.

"Harry," Hermione whispered in his ear, "you have to tell them your theory." She'd been the one who suggested that they try the muggle technique of brainstorming to gather all possible explanations of Voldemort's abrupt disapparation out of the Hogwarts Battle. Just as Harry had reappeared, and hope had been rekindled, Voldemort, and all of his Death Eaters, had vanished. While it was possible someone else would have a good idea, she'd actually just wanted to force Harry to share his theorywith the others.

Harry shook his head slightly, but Shacklebolt glanced over from where he was pacing near the head of the table. "Was there something else, Harry?"

Harry glared at Hermione, but everyone had turned to face him.

"Well, I . . . uh . . . we were talking, and I just wondered. We've been assuming that old Snake Nose had some great plan." Now that they knew his name was taboo they used various rude nicknames. Snake Nose was a favorite. "But what if this wasn't part of a plan. What if something happened that made him give up his plan. Like he did have a plan, but then realized it wasn't working."

"Are you saying you think he ran away?" Bill tried to sound neutral, but his voice was skeptical, as "ran away" was added to the list on the board.

"That makes it sound . . . well, I guess I am." Harry stared back at Bill.

"So you think you scared him away?" Shacklebolt's words were harsh, but his voice was neutral, contemplating.

Mr. Weasley looked up. "If that was true, then what? What's he doing now?"

"No idea," Harry said, slumping back into his chair.

Hermione couldn't believe them. Their response was just as bad as Harry predicted that it would be. She'd been thinking about bringing up another issue, an even stranger issue, but now – no, it wouldn't be received well. The thing was that she didn't think that all of the Death Eaters had left willingly. Actually, there was just one Death Eater that she had that feeling about – Draco Malfoy. She'd seen his face when the Dark Lord had brought forth Harry's apparently dead body. He hadn't been rejoicing, in fact, he'd looked appalled. Then he caught her away, and looked away as though he was ashamed. Why would he have done that? How could he have turned around and fled willingly with the Dark Lord after that? She had no answers, which of course bothered her to no end. She'd even found herself lying in bed, wondering, trying to put together the strange puzzle pieces. Harry and Ron hated Malfoy so much that it was no use discussing the issue with them. Now, unfortunately, she realized that she'd get much the same reaction if she brought him up with the whole Order. She tried, and failed, to suppress a sigh.

Harry caught her eye, and shrugged. He thought she was reacting to the reception of his theory. The whole room sat in uncomfortable silence until Shacklebolt announced "I think that's enough for today. Let's come back to this later, when we've had more time to think."

"We have nothing, but time to think," Hermione scoffed mentally, but she kept it to herself.

"You all have your duty schedules. Unless there are any major attacks our next meeting is one week from tonight. One last thing, if any of you know of any place we might find wolfsbane, any place other than the Forbidden Forrest that is, please let me know. That's all. Meeting adjourned."

Hermione looking over the schedule as she headed for the door. It listed who was to be ready. They took it in shifts, that way they could respond quickly with raids on possible Death Eater hideouts or to defend against an attack. If more people were needed and available they'd get themselves together as quickly as possible, but someone was always ready. She frowned and stopped in the doorway, then stepped aside as Mrs. Weasley muttered an "excuse me." Hermione skimmed through the second page of the schedule, then flipped back to the first page again.

"Um . . . Minister?"

Kingsley looked up from the papers he was pulling into a neat stack.

"I don't seem to be on the duty schedule. Not at all."

"Oh, yes. I meant to discuss that with you. Actually, I need to talk to you and Potter. Could you call him back in?"

Hermione leaned into the hallway and called "Harry?" and soon she, Harry and Kingsley were seated again at the table.

Kingsley folded his hands together and brought them up under his chin. "Miss Granger, as you've noticed, for the time being, you won't be going out any more." His deep voice was even, but firm.

"Can I ask why?"

"We've lost our source. We now have no way of knowing whether or not Greyback will be there and we've made an executive decision that you're too valuable to lose to his mania." She couldn't tell if "we" was a group of people, or only Kingsley referring to himself. She sighed as she realized that it didn't matter.

"I do have some good news for you two. Since you won't be going on raids, we've decided that the two of you, working together, can conduct some separate missions, missions that are not expected to involve directly fighting Death Eaters."

Harry's eyes, which had been fixed on the table, popped up. "Where? When?"

"We have a number of locations, now vacant locations, that need inspecting."

"Locations?" Hermione hated the vagueness of that term. "Are we talking buildings, fields, what?"

"Living quarters. We've lost some good people in the past year or so and we've sealed up their residences, but we haven't had the manpower available to go through and deal with the contents."

"And by 'deal with' you mean . . . ." Hermione's patience was running low. She wasn't in the mood for Kingsley's laid back way of explaining things.

"Mostly inventorying, after checking for wards, curses, etc. We'll send you with an impervious bag to retrieve anything that seems suspect."

"Suspect?" This time Harry jumped in.

"That'll be your judgment call. Dangerous, yes, but also anything that looks like it could be immediately useful."

"What about Ron?" Hermione asked.

"His wand is needed for the raids." It was Harry's turn to sigh. Ron wasn't going to like this.

Kingsley had stopped speaking and was slipping his papers into his briefcase. Hermione decided not to say anything. In interrogations silence often worked better than threats to get someone to keep talking, to say something more. Harry was either playing along, or just contemplating the assignment. After a few moments, Kingsley quirked his eyebrows at them and she knew he was onto her technique and wasn't going to volunteer anything more.

"So . . . ." she said.

"Yes?"

"Do we get to find out where we'll be going?"

"That's on a need to know basis."

"Don't we need to know?"

"Yes." He paused. "But not yet."

"Why the hell do you two get all the special assignments?" Ron slammed his fist down on the kitchen table. Hermione was glad for Harry's help. She didn't want to face Ron's wrath alone. She also hoped that having this discussion in the kitchen would give her a chance to distract Ron with some food, after he'd gotten the bad news.

"Ron . . . ." She glanced at Harry, then realized that he was looking to her for the explanation. "It's not a special assignment. It's more just some cleaning up to keep us busy since they don't want either of us going on raids for now."

"They're never going to let Harry go on any raids." Ron was right, but his cutting tone made Harry flinch. "And you . . . why are you off the raids?"

Hermione knew she was a hypocrite because his question bothered her. If he'd wanted her to stay home to be safe she'd say 'no,' but it would be nice if he cared a little about her safety. "They lost their source, the one who let them know whether Greyback would be there."

"That must be why Dad's so down lately." At least Ron noticed somebody's moods. "By lost . . . they died?"

"I guess. Kingsley didn't say."

"He never does." Ron deflated as he sat down at the table.

"We tried to get him to let you come with us, but he said they needed your wand on the raids." Harry sat next to Ron, almost pleading.

"Yeah, it's just . . . it feels wrong not to be with you guys."

Hermione found a plate of cookies up on a shelf and put it down on the table, as she sat down too. "Hopefully they'll get a new source and I'll be back in action."

"Don't think even a new source would work for me." Harry bit down on a cookie, and passed the plate to Ron.

Hermione began making a list of what to do when they reached . . . wherever they were going. "1. Check for wards, 2. Check and cover portraits, 3. Perform Homenum revelio, . . ." She stopped, bit her lip and frowned, then set down her quill and picked up her wand. She waved her wand over the paper and "Perform Homenum revelio" moved up to the number one spot. She picked her quill back up and went on – "4. Put up protective wards while we work, . . . ."

Glum silence prevailed, but she ignored it, other than wishing things didn't feel so off.

Four days later there was a raid. Hermione gave Ron a kiss on the cheek just before he followed Neville into the Floo, then went to meet Kingsley and Harry in the kitchen.

Tonight Kingsley was not playing games. "Are you familiar with Spinner's End?"

Hermione shook her head, but Harry frowned. "I've heard of it somewhere, but . . . ."

"Your former professor, Professor Snape, lived there when he wasn't in residence at Hogwarts." Kingsley looked back and forth at the two. "I understand you've already listed what you plan to do. Can I see it?"

Hermione had already retrieved her list. She handed it to Kingsley and, after perusing it for a few moments, he said, "Excellent. The only thing I'd add is to make sure that you look the place over thoroughly, methodically, after you make sure it is safe. Then, when you've returned, you can save those memories for a pensieve. If we ever want to know what was there, or check to see if you missed something, we can check those memories."

"Oh, like an inventory!" Hermione's face lit up. It was such a good idea.

Harry nodded, but Kingsley frowned. "A what?"

"It must be a Muggle term. Sorry."

The only other problem was how to get there. Apparation was out since, neither Harry nor Hermione had been there before.

"Take a look at this map. Have either of you been to any of the towns in the area?"

Harry shook his head, knowing that he'd actually seen very little of England. The Dursleys had never taken him anywhere, and the sites they'd chosen to camp in during their quest for the horcruxes had been chosen because they weren't near any place of consequence.

Hermione, however, studied the map conscientiously. "I remember Cheetham Hill. My mother's aunt lived there and we visited several times. But that looks like it would be quite the walk."

"I can bring my broom. We'll apparate there, then disillusion ourselves and fly the rest of the way." Harry was happy to be able to contribute.

Hermione bit her lip, but she couldn't think of a good reason to refuse to fly, nor could she think of any other way to reach Spinner's End in good time. Kingsley, who didn't know that Hermione hated flying, bid them adieu with his usual brisk grin.

"Harry, what do I do?" she hissed at Harry as soon as Kingsley was out of the room.

"You can do this. How about if I put a calming charm on you before we take off? By the time it wears off, we'll be almost there. You managed to fly on a terrified, blind dragon. This'll be way easier."

"A calming charm? I've seen a calming potion, but never a charm."

"Charlie Weasley actually taught it to me. They use them to help the apprentice dragon trainers. It seems to work just like the potion."

And it did. The calming charm wore off gradually, and by the time it was gone, Hermione had discovered that, while she didn't exactly enjoy flying, it was not all that bad. She held the map, and guided Harry to land in a cheerless, narrow street, lined on either side by stone houses, pressed together side by side, as far as the eye could see.

"What a dreary place," Hermione whispered, studying the map as Harry shrank his broom, and slipped his invisibility cloak over them both.

Snape's home was at the end of a nearby row of houses. The houses seemed to be deserted, and Hermione wondered if the whole town was this desolate or if Snape had somehow magically ensured that no one took any of the houses near his.

They reached his door and Hermione doubled checked the address, although the aura of magic surrounding his home was unmistakable. Hermione checked for any inhabitants with Homenum Revelio, then Harry performed the counter-spell to the simple ward on the door. One Alohomora and they were in.

They split up to each take a careful look through every room, as Kingsley had recommended. They were also to cover any portraits, but Hermione found none in the rooms she checked. In fact, there was little to find at all in the small house.

"Harry, someone's already been here," she said, discouraged. She'd been hoping that they could do something useful and a bit curious about what they might find.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Look at the bookshelves. There are hardly any books left, only elementary textbooks. But you can see the dust has been disturbed. These shelves used to be full."

Harry came over, perused the empty shelves and nodded glumly.

Hermione saw something on the floor. She picked up what turned out to be the leather spine cover off of the back of an old book. "Potions to Charms, Charms to Potions: An Illustrated Guide," it read.

"I knew he'd have interesting books. I wonder who took them all."

"They could be in his office at Hogwarts," Harry said hopefully, but Hermione had a feeling that they weren't. She looked up with a start, still frowning.

"Harry?" she whispered. "I feel like someone's watching us." Normally, Hermione hated relying on nothing more than vague feelings and intuition, but she couldn't ignore the chill that slipped down her back.

"Here? There are no windows." He had also dropped his voice, and instinctively moved closer to Hermione.

Hermione cast another Hominem Revelio. Nothing. She looked carefully around. The room was almost bare enough to be a monk's cell. No artwork. No portraits. An empty space above the fireplace where the wallpaper had faded around – something that was no longer there.

But propped up on the mantle –

"Hermione – there!" Harry moved to it first. There was a small aged hand mirror and, as Harry grabbed it and put it into their impervious bag, Hermione could've sworn she saw something move out of the silvered reflection.

Ron was waiting for them in the kitchen when they got back. "How was it?" he asked, trying to sound casual, although Hermione could hear the resentment in his voice.

"What a foul place," Hermione sighed. "No wonder he was such a grouch if he grew up there."

"That's no excuse," muttered Ron.

"There actually wasn't much there," Harry began. "It looked like . . . ."

The door opened and Shacklebolt led Professor McGonagall and Arthur Weasley in. "Harry, Hermione, we were hoping you were back. Giving Mr. Weasley your full report?"

"Well, um . . . we were going to tell you, but . . . ."

"It's fine," Shacklebolt gave them a tired smile. "You can fill me in later. For now, gentlemen, if you'll excuse us, we need a word with Miss Granger."

"Of course," she answered, then gave Harry and Ron a wide-eyed shrug. They looked just as perplexed as she was, but headed out. They knew that she'd fill them in later.

As she sat Arthur Weasley was the one who spoke. "You studied ancient runes, didn't you?"

"Three years," she said with a nod.

"And got an "O" on your O.W.L.s." Shacklebolt had obviously looked her scores up already so she just nodded.

"Do you need some translations done?" She almost smiled at the thought. She loved translating runes.

"We may." Shacklebolt exchanged such somber looks with Arthur and Minerva that Hermione pulled her chair in, and leaned forward. There was something more than just translations going on here.

"We have an interesting situation that has come up. Yes, we need your translation skills, but we also want you for this job because you've shown some diplomatic skill and a willingness to be open-minded. However, my one concern is whether you can be trusted to keep a matter of the deepest confidence from everyone, even other Order members, even your famous sidekicks." Kingsley looked intently at her face, as though he was trying to read her thoughts.

Hermione almost laughed that Harry could be referred to as her sidekick, but then she realized that she was being asked to keep something important from Harry and Ron. She sighed. If they needed her help, hopefully the boys would understand that she'd been asked to keep something in confidence.

"Professor, I think you can attest that I am fully capable of keeping secrets when necessary, even from Harry and Ron."

Professor McGonagall, obviously remembering Hermione's use of the time-turner in her 3rd year, nodded.

"We have an opportunity to receive intelligence from a new source, a source we understand is at the highest levels of the Death Eaters, but it will require absolute secrecy. Originally our contact wanted an Unbreakable Vow." Kingsley's deep voice had dropped now so that Hermione had to concentrate to hear him. "I'm sure you understand that the unpredictably of war makes such vows very dangerous. So – instead we have agreed to let our informant remain anonymous."

Hermione frowned. "Anonymous? You don't know who it is?" That seemed foolish to her. And how could this possibly concern her?

"Our prior method of communication proved unsafe." Mr. Weasley spoke in such a soft, sad voice that Hermione was tempted to reach out and take his hand. But she didn't. He went on. "Our new contact will send messages by ancient rune. We understand that the private Black family library has a portrait of a lady with several Grecian urns next to her. Have you seen it?"

"I think so. I've never really studied it though."

"The proposal is that messages will be inscribed, in runes, on one of the vases. You will then read them and translate."

"Wait - there's another portrait of the same lady? Is that how the runes are being inscribed? I thought we'd checked to make sure that there were no other portraits of any of these people in any place that was occupied?" Hermione had always been nervous about trusting the portraits of those who so clearly opposed their mission.

Kingsley had the decency to look a bit abashed at the potential security violation. "Well, yes, the other portrait was apparently being stored in an attic until recently. And, yes, we are going to do another review of our other portraits' other locations."

Shacklebolt looked at Arthur Weasley. He seemed to want to change the subject. "Hermione, Arthur will be going over your role with you."

Mr. Weasley looked over the table at Hermione. Not for the first time, she felt a rush of affection for the fatherly man. "Hermione, you'll be what's known as the 'handler' for this contact. I was the handler for our . . . previous contact. We can talk later and I'll explain the duties, and limitations, of being a handler. Our previous contact was someone I came to trust with my life. It was our previous contact who arranged for us to have a new contact."

"So . . . our previous contact," Hermione had noticed that he was very carefully gender neutral about his contact, "this contact passed on their role to someone new?"

"Basically."

"Why?"

"Our previous contact realized that they had been . . . compromised."

"They got caught?"

"Yes. But before our contact was apprehended, these new arrangements were made."

Hermione hesitated before she asked the next question. Mr. Weasley's demeanor pointed to only one answer. But she had to know.

"What happened to the previous contact?"

Mr. Weasley spoke to his hands, which were clasped tightly on the table in front of him.

"We believe that our previous contact was . . ." he paused and seemed to be gathering himself, "killed."

Shacklebolt stood. He seemed eager to shake off Mr. Weasley's ominous tone. "I'd like to introduce you, but I think it will have to wait until morning."

Hermione was puzzled for a moment, then it clicked. "Introduce me? Oh, you mean to the portrait?"

"Her name was Hyacinth Black."

Of course. A Black. "What should I call her? Hyacinth? Miss Black?"

"Let's start with Miss Black for now. Most of the portraits prefer formality. And that includes sticking to what they feel are respectable hours."

Hermione was dimly aware that the portraits all nodded off at some point in the evening. Ron and Harry were often scolded for playing wizard's chess in the parlour too late.

Hermione thought of how unpleasant some of the portraits could be. Not only was Walburga Black hysterically angry, but other portrait denizens liked to mutter insults. When she was feeling testy, she'd silence them as soon as she walked into a room. "Will . . . Hyacinth cooperate? Will she mind working with . . . someone of my . . . heritage?"

The two gentlemen looked at Professor McGonagall. "I've done some research into her background, her history, and it seems that she might be amenable. She herself was a half blood."

"And she was a Black?" Of course, seeing that Tom Riddle was a half blood that didn't necessarily mean she wasn't biased.

"Our contact also thinks she might be willing. In fact, our contact wants us, well – you, to explain the plan and see if she's willing to cooperate."

Hermione frowned. "I'm supposed to convince her to help us? And . . . I don't mean any disrespect, but . . . how can we possibly trust a Death Eater when we have no idea who it is. What if this is a ploy to trick us, to get information from us, to get us to . . . ." Her imagination began to spin out of control.

"Hermione." Mr. Weasley's voice was steady and low. "Any information we get from their side, from the inside is valuable. It might be false – either because we are lied to or because our contact is deceived. But it might be true. As a handler you'll bring the information back to us, one of the three of us here and, together, we'll decide what, if anything to do with it."

"For now the question, Ms. Granger, is whether or not you're willing to take this on, whether or not you will take on the new role of handler for our anonymous contact."

Hermione could feel her heart pounding. She'd been a bit bored lately, but this was so much responsibility. And in an area that she was completely unfamiliar with. Knowing how to translate runes was only going to be the starting point.

But – of course – someone needed to do the job. Someone who knew runes and was willing to deal with an anonymous Death Eater informant. Was that her?

"I'll do it."

AN – I'd love to hear what you think of my AU. It makes sense to me that Voldemort would've noticed that, not only Harry wasn't dead, but also his wand wasn't working right. Since he was basically a coward, I can see him fleeing at that point – which could be highly inconvenient for the ambivalent Malfoys. Make sense to you?