Some of the dialogue here has been borrowed from DH.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but this twisted so-called "plot".
.
It was unnerving, owning the power that Bellatrix possessed and exerted on anyone in her path. Silence fell in the Leaky Cauldron when Hermionetrix, Not-Sr., Transfigured-Ron, (dubbed Dragomir Despard – Luna's idea, much to Ron and Malfoy's displeasure,) entered. Harry and Griphook were well concealed under the invisibility cloak. The scant patrons who were huddled around corner tables hunched low, as if attempting to squeeze themselves out of existence.
"Madam Lestrange, Mr. Nott," Tom the barman wittered, bowing his head. Candlelight reflected brightly off his smooth, bald scalp.
Not-Sr. sniffed, not even deigning to look at the man. Hermionetrix on the other hand, lost hold of her senses and said, "Good morning."
Tom's head snapped up in surprise.
"Too polite!" hissed Harry's voice in her ear, "You need to treat people like they're scum!"
"Okay, okay!" she consented through her teeth.
In the early hours, Diagon Alley looked like an abandoned city; the shops were all barred and bolted, and nobody was around. All was quiet. Still, hints of the new regime were visible in the signboards: Harold's House of Dark Secrets, The Deathly Apothecary, Book Shoppe - A Borkin and Burke's Franchise...
Dragomir let out a low whistle.
Almost all available surfaces were plastered with 'wanted' posters with Harry's face on them. Some even showed Hermione and Ron. And there... one of Kingsley...
As they strode deeper down the lane, they began to notice people clustered around random corners. Battered and tattered, they shrunk away into the shadows when they saw Hermionetrix and Not-Sr.
It made her want to claw at her face. Ever so often, she'd catch her reflection in dark shop windows, and she'd shudder every time. The shadow that bloomed beneath her feet was the one that had slithered all over her when the world had been reduced to CRUCIO.
She yelped in alarm when, all of a sudden, there was a wild-eyed man right in her face. "My children!" he wailed, waving about a bloody stump of an arm, "Where are my children! What has he done with them? You know! You know!"
He was crying, devastated, hysterical, and she could barely breathe.
"I – I really –"
He sprang at her with a great, big bellow, but then... he was crumpled on the floor ten feet away. Not-Sr. and Dragomir both had their wands brandished.
"Keep moving," Not-Sr. muttered, "Come on."
It took a lot of effort for her to tear her eyes away from the wretched man sobbing and clawing at the ground with his one good hand. Drawn by the commotion, faces began appearing at various windows, all united by their look of utter horror.
Well, so much for making an inconspicuous entry. And god, if she didn't get it together she'd bugger up the entire enterprise. I am Bellatrix, I am Bellatrix, I AM Bellatrix, I am –
"Why, Madam Lestrange!"
Exactly.
They whirled around all together to watch a stout, grey-haired wizard making his way towards them.
I am Bellatrix, and I am an atrocious inhuman being. She drew back her shoulders and sneered, "And what do you want?"
The man's face went cold and hard, and Not-Sr. unobtrusively tilted his head and whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "Travers. Death Eater."
"I merely sought to greet you," said Travers frostily, "but if my presence is not welcome..."
Hermionetrix hastily tried to salvage the situation, "No, no, not at all, Travers. How are you?"
"Well, thank you. And good morning to you, too, Nott."
Not-Sr. nodded balefully, and Travers seemed to accept that as his manner. He turned back to Hermionetrix and said, "I confess I am surprised to see you out and about, Bellatrix."
"Really? Why?" she asked haughtily.
"Well... I heard that the inhabitants of Malfoy Manor were confined to the house, after the... ah... escape," he responded delicately.
I am Bellatrix. "The Dark Lord forgives those who have served him most faithfully in the past. Perhaps your credit is not as good with him as mine is, Travers."
Travers mouth thinned with anger, but the cloud of mistrust in his eyes lessened. Looking down at the still weeping man on the ground he enquired, "How did this one offend you?"
"It does not matter," Hermionetrix replied derisively, "He will not do so again."
Travers nodded, impressed. "Some of these wandless can be troublesome," he said, "While they do nothing but beg I have no objection, but one of them actually asked me to plead her case in the Ministry last week – but whose wand are you using at the moment, Bellatrix? I heard that your own was –"
"I have my wand here," Hermionetrix snapped, holding up Bellatrix's wand, "I don't know what rumours you have been listening to, Travers, but you seem sadly misinformed."
"I... I see," Travers stuttered in surprise. Then he sneeringly looked at Dragomir and asked, "Who is your friend? I do not recognize him."
"This is Dragomir Despard. He speaks very little English, but he is in sympathy with the Dark Lord's aims. He has travelled here from Transylvania to see our new regime."
"Indeed? How do you do, Dragomir?"
Dragomir held out his hand, ("'Ow you?") and Travers reluctantly shook it.
"So what brings you all to Diagon Alley this early?"
"I need to visit Gringotts," said Hermionetrix, getting seriously agitated by Traver's inquisition. Why wouldn't he just go away?
"Alas, I also." (Of bloody course!) "Gold, filthy gold! We cannot live without it, yet I confess I deplore the necessity of consorting with our long-fingered friends. Shall we?"
Well they hardly had a choice in the matter. Just what was needed: A suspicious and attentive Death Eater in their midst.
"So... Nott," Travers ventured as they walked, "I hear your son stood with the Order during the incident."
"You certainly hear a lot, Travers," said Not-Sr. with contempt.
"Well..."
"I have no son."
"Right, yes, of course," muttered Travers hurriedly, "It's just that you had made such glorious, high-ceilinged promises about what you'd do to your – er the boy – if you'd ever get your hands on him..."
Not-Sr. cracked his knuckles and glowered, "All the more pity that I wasn't present at Malfoy Manor that night. I intend to keep those promises, Travers. Or do you doubt..."
"Not at all!"
Hermionetrix kept her eyes fixed ahead, though she itched to glance over at her friend... just to get some sort of sign that he was still indeed in there somewhere. The way he spoke was so ferocious, so convincing, that it frightened her.
Soon enough, they were poised before the tall doors of Gringotts. At the entrance were two navy-cloaked wizards holding golden batons.
"Ah, Probity Probes," sighed Travers theatrically, "So crude – but so effective!"
As he was being checked, Hermionetrix heard the softest whisper of "Confundo; Confundo," and knew it was safe for her to pass.
Inside the enormous marble hall of the bank, the unlikely quartet (plus two,) stalked towards an elderly goblin perched on a high stool. Travers went first, and then... Hermionetrix stepped forward.
"Madam Lestrange!" the goblin gasped, "Dear me! How – how may I help you today?"
"I wish to enter my vault," she replied arrogantly.
The goblin suffered a strange little spasm as he peered at her. In fact, everyone – goblin and human – had stopped what they were doing to stare at her.
"You have... identification?"
"Identification?" she screeched, "I – I have never been asked for identification before!"
"Think of who you are talking to, goblin!" Not-Sr. growled.
The goblin ignored him. "Your wand will do, madam."
Her hands began to quake. They knew. It was obvious they knew that Bellatrix was not supposed to have her own wand. Shit. But she had no choice. Slowly – and bitterly – she placed Bellatrix's actual wand before the goblin.
"Ah, you have had a new wand made, Madam Lestrange!"
"What?" What?! "No, no, that's mine –"
"A new wand?" Travers sputtered, startled, "But you just said – and how could you have done? Which wandmaker did you use?"
"I – um – you see –"
"Oh yes, I see," said Travers, rather... blankly... as he stared down at the wand, "Yes, very handsome. Is it working well? I always think wands require a little breaking in, don't you?"
What the hell was going on? Somehow, she mustered the presence of mind to nod, and then the old goblin clapped his hands, summoning a younger looking one.
"I shall need the Clankers," he told him, and once he'd been handed a jingling leather bag continued, "Good, good! Now, if you will follow me, Madam Lestrange, I shall take you to your vault."
The moment they entered into a stone torch-lit passage, Harry threw the cloak off himself and Griphook.
"We're in trouble," he stated, "They suspect."
Somehow, neither Travers nor the goblin seemed remotely perturbed by the sudden appearance of the Undesirable Number One.
"They're Imperiused," Harry explained.
"Wicked stuff, Potter," Not-Sr. commended.
Harry spared him an impatient look. "I don't think I did it strongly enough, I don't know..."
"What do we do? Shall we get out now, while we can?" Dragomir asked frantically.
"If we can," Hermionetrix muttered, glancing back at the door that had snapped shut behind them. Loud voices were piercing through the heavy wood.
Harry shook his head, "We've got this far, I say we go on."
"Good!" Griphook barked, "So, we need Bogrod here to control the cart; I no longer have the authority. But there will not be room for the wizard."
"Okay. Imperio!"
Traver's blank expression glazed over some more, and he wandered away into the darkness.
"What are you making him do?" she whispered.
"Hide."
xxx
She'd been on a rollercoaster ride only twice in her life, on two separate trips to Adventure Island. She hadn't particularly enjoyed either of those instances.
Hurtling through dark, twisty-turny channels in a bloody bucket, with no seatbelts of any sort was far worse. Since she didn't have a vault, she'd never seen this part of the bank before... Why was it that the magical world insisted on the most bizarre, terrifying, and impractical ways to do basic things?
Screech! – They swung around a sharp corner and Hermionetrix grabbed Not-Sr.'s hand. Oh, she was going to vomit for sure.
Suddenly, after another petrifying sharp turn, they were confronted with a gushing rapid pummelling the track ahead.
"FUCK!" roared Not-Sr. and Harry.
"No!" shouted Griphook.
Hermionetrix and Dragomir screamed.
But there was no stopping. They burst through the cascade, water soaked her through, and with unexpected abruptness she was Hermione once more.
There was barely a moment to gasp – the cart turned over and tossed the lot of them. And they were freefalling, whizzing down toward the unforgiving ground below...
"Molliare!" Hermione shrieked.
They all slowed and landed gently on the rocky floor.
"C-Cushioning Charm," she heaved, as Ron helped her up. He was back to himself, and so was Theo.
"The Thief's Downfall!" Griphook said gravely, "It washes away all enchantment, all magical concealment. They know there are imposters in Gringotts, they have set off defences against us!"
xxx
"Lumos!" they all murmured once inside the Lestrange's vault. Well here it was then, Aladdin's legendary cave; the light from their wands revealed mountains of gold and silver, gems and jewels. Looking over at her companions, Hermione saw that they all wore different expressions – Harry was determined, Ron was utterly enthralled, Theo unimpressed, and Griphook... shifty.
What was her face doing, she wondered.
She drifted away, carefully examining the endless piles. She saw Gryffindor's fake sword, a solid gold armour, an emerald encrusted candelabra, strings of pearls, a skull made of lapis lazuli, a golden goblet dotted with diamonds and amethysts...
"Harry, could this be –? Aaaah!"
The goblet fell from her hands as she screamed. The blasted thing had burned her. She shoved her scorched fingers into her mouth, and when she looked down, the cup seemed to have multiplied... she couldn't tell which the one she'd originally picked up was.
"They have added Germino and Flagrante Curses!" Griphook exclaimed.
"Okay, don't touch anything!" Harry instructed pointlessly.
Or, not so pointlessly, as a second later, Ron tripped over a Faberge egg, and then there were about thirty more of them.
"Oh, well done, Weasley," Theo snapped.
"Sod off," Ron grumbled, hopping around clutching his burned foot.
"Stand still! Don't move!" Hermione ordered.
Every tiny corner of the vault was then examined with utmost care. Of course, it was difficult to entirely avoid brushing against things...
"HA!" Ron barked, "Whose fault is it now?"
"Shut up," Theo griped as he scowled down at the surplus of onyx chalices strewn around him.
"Oh, so it's no big deal when you fuck up, eh, Super-Wizard?"
"Weasley, I will shove you into that priceless Japanese screen behind you, and then you'll get scalded so thoroughly that you'll turn into one giant blister, and your skin will actually match your hair, and –"
"You wouldn't dare, you prick –"
"Oh, really? J–"
"That's ENOUGH, both of you!"
Hermione was tiptoeing her way through six towers of gold bricks when Harry's exclamation ("It's there! It's up there!") caused her to come dangerously close to knocking one of them down.
She ran over and saw that yes, indeed, there was a little golden cup sitting high up on a shelf far beyond their reach.
Ron asked, "You're sure that's the one?"
"Definitely," said Harry steadily, "It's the one I saw in Hokey the House-Elf's memory."
"...Merlin, I am dying to know what you three have been up to this past year," said Theo.
With an agonised scream, Hermione burst out of the Lestrange's vault as burning hot metal pressed and sizzled into her skin. She crashed sideways into Theo, and immediately, he helped steady her. Ron, breathing heavily, cried "We're done for!"
Goblins had surrounded them – were bearing down on them – flashing maces and daggers with intent. Suddenly Griphook streaked past, waving Gryffindor's sword while shouting, "Thieves! Thieves! Help! Thieves!"
"Stupefy!" Harry roared, and his fury at being betrayed doubly redoubled the intensity of his spell.
Hermione, Theo, and Ron followed his lead: "STUPEFY!"
Goblins scattered helter-skelter, and above the furore, a tethered dragon roared. A wave of fire swept by above their heads.
"THIS WAY!"
"Harry – Harry – what are you doing?" Hermione yelled, watching in horror as he charged straight towards the fuming dragon.
"COME ON!"
Hermione grabbed Ron and Theo by the elbows and dragged them behind Harry as they continued to aim spells at the goblins.
"Harry, what... what...?"
They were standing by the dragon's foot, and the goblins had begun shooting arrows at them and...
"Get up," Harry commanded, "Climb up, come on –"
WHAT!
"Huh?!"
"Potter, are you insane?!"
But Harry was already clambering up the dragon's back. He held out his hand to Hermione looking absolutely beside himself, and – Mother Superior jumped the gun – Hermione took it and let him pull her up.
Onto the Dragon. She was sitting on the back of a great, big, fire-breathing dragon.
A BLIND fire-breathing Dragon.
"Mental. This. Is. Mental!" Ron huffed as he climbed behind her.
"Seconded. Fucking Seconded," Theo agreed as he scrambled up after him.
And then Harry pointed his wand at the dragon's tether and set it free.
The dragon did what you would expect a dragon that had been held captive in an underground cave for years to do.
It soared.
Its sheer delight at finally being able to stretch its wings was palpable. It roared as it circled high above London, it purred as it dashed through clouds.
Hermione, however, was the opposite of jubilant. Discomfort with heights and all that aside... there was the little thing about the creature being blind. And if its inability to sense the presence of four people on its back was anything to go by, then its other senses weren't all that spiffy either.
Especially since Hermione was prone to screaming bloody murder every time the beast swerved, and Theo and Ron were lobbing a whole array of swear words high into the open sky.
Harry was cool as a cucumber, though. He'd had a far worse interaction with a dragon back in fourth year. But that was always the case with him... Harry had always seen worse. Excuse him while he yawns through your abject terror.
Oh LORD.
The dragon wanted air as fresh and thin as possible, it seemed, and this quest compelled it to go higher and higher and higher...
The ground below was nonspecific and greenbrown (and SO far away - she promised herself that she would not look down again); there was no telling where they'd reached. Hermione remembered reading that dragons could fly for up to 32 hours without needing to stop. She didn't have the temerity to loosen her hold around Harry's waist so she might check her watch... but from the sun's position, she hazarded a guess that it was sometime around noon. So that was five hours since they'd escaped from Gringotts.
The dragon swerved to the right. "EEEEP!" she yelped.
"What do you reckon it's looking for?" Ron yelled over her head some time later.
"No idea!" Harry shouted back.
"It's going to take us to fucking Helsinki, I'm telling you!" Theo bellowed.
On and on and on it went. But, thankfully, it had lost some of the initial fervor that had enthralled it in the first leg of its flight. The dragon was now cruising around at a dreamy pace, and if, somehow, she could bring herself to forget that she was hundreds of thousands of feet up in the air atop a blind dragon, Hermione might've thought that it was almost… pleasant.
Her mind wandered periodically. She imagined a scenario where she was telling her parents about this jaunt over dinner. ("Oh my!" gasped mum, and "But that's absolutely mad!" raved dad.)
Theo said, "Moi is how you greet people in Finland, by the way."
Ron replied, "For Godric's sake, Nott… I'm stressed enough right now without you saying things and making it all worse."
The sun was setting, so the sky darkened. Monsieur Dragon arced over a mountain range and let out a contented rumble. It was suddenly very, very cold, and the chilly air felt marvelous against the numerous burns on Hermione's skin.
After another age of quiet flying, Ron piped up, "Is it my imagination or are we losing height?"
Putting much at risk, Hermione made herself look. He was right – the tops of trees were no longer tiny green dots, and she could see miniature roads and little houses, all soaked in sunset hues. There was a brook directly beneath them, (for men may come and men may go but it goes on forever,) and she saw a herd of sheep being led into their enclosure by a man... Gabriel Oak, perhaps. They passed a small forest, a church, a meadow, another farm...
Then the dragon was flying in circles over a lake. Circles that were getting tighter by the second as it descended: A literal downward spiral. Hermione started to giggle which was batty, but then Harry shocked the sanity back into her:
"I say we jump when it gets low enough! Straight into the water before it realizes we're here!"
Oh dear.
"How," Theo shouted, "Are you the boy who keeps living when all your ideas are so fucking mad!"
"They may be mad, but obviously they work! Okay then… NOW!"
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck Hermione slid off fuck the dragon's back and fuckfuckfuckfuck whizzed through the icy air for fuckfuckfuckfuckFUCKfuck an eternity, and landed with a huge, fucking horrifying SPLASH into icier waters.
She bobbed up and down, gasping, looking across large ripples to see Theo, Harry, and Ron breaking through the surface of the water. The dragon was already miles away; a shadowy speck against the cobalt sky.
Together, the four of them swam towards the nearest shore. Hermione nearly flew into a panic when one of her legs got tangled up in a clump of reeds, but Ron came to her rescue, pulling her free.
Hacking and spluttering, she crawled onto solid ground and collapsed. She could hear Ron's wheezes nearby and Harry's breathless incantations as he cast protective spells around them.
For a long time they just lay on the grass, panting. Unmoving. Unbelieving.
"Holy... Holy... Holy..." Theo murmured.
And then it was back to business. Hermione sat up and began fumbling around in her bag, pulling out a change of clothes for all. She fished out a phial of dittany for their burns, and four large bottles of pumpkin juice.
In dry clothes and with healed skin, they blinked around at each other as they gulped juice like it was heavenly nectar straight from Mount Olympus.
"Well, on the upside," Ron remarked, "we got the cup. On the downside –"
"–no sword," Harry fumed.
"No sword. That double-crossing little scab."
"Goblins, yeah?" Theo quipped, "If only someone had warned you that it wasn't a good idea to –"
"Nott, I swear, I –"
"What'll happen to the dragon?" Hermione asked, mostly to stop their bickering, but also because she was a bit concerned, "Will it be alright? I mean… its blind and not used to being out in the wild…"
Ron looked at her bemusedly. "You sound like Hagrid. It's a dragon, Hermione, it can look after itself. It's us we need to worry about."
"What do you mean?"
"Well I don't know how to break this to you," he replied slowly, "but I think they might have noticed we broke into Gringotts."
Theo let out a great big snort of laughter. Ron gawked at him, startled, but then on his other side, Harry fell onto his back and cracked up. After that it was inevitable; they all guffawed till their throats were raw.
Actually, until Harry's gasps of hilarity turned into those of pain. Hermione, Ron, and Theo scrambled to his side in alarm, and watched as he twitched and shuddered, lost in yet another untimely foray into Voldemort's mind.
"What the fuck is wrong with him?" Theo demanded, even as he continued to stare at Harry with horrified fascination.
"He's, um, having a vision," Hermione explained weakly.
"Potter's a seer?!"
"Er, no. He has a... connection... of sorts... with You-Know-Who. He can see into his mind sometimes."
"That – buggering hell – is not normal."
"No, really," Ron intoned scornfully.
"Alright. You need to tell me what's up," Theo stated emphatically, "I've gone along with things so far, dragon et al, but now Potter here has gone for a stroll down Dark Lord Lane, and I want to know why we went through hell to get hold of a bit of bric-a-brac," he ended by tilting his head towards Hufflepuff's cup nestled innocuously in Ron's hand.
"You're right," Hermione sighed.
"Hermione, NO!" Ron exclaimed.
"...Imposters..." Harry moaned.
"Ron, we owe him the truth now, I think!"
"Yeah, Ron," Theo seconded unhelpfully.
"Hermione, Harry doesn't want to tell him!"
"This isn't about Harry..."
"Of course it is!"
"It's about You-Know-Who, Ron! It's about everybody who's fighting to bring him down! It's about you, and me, and –"
"He'll just go off and tell Malfoy first thing!"
"No I won't," Theo snapped.
"Yeah, right..."
They glared lividly at each other. Hermione could sense something unpleasant churning about in Ron's head, poised to come shooting out of his mouth, so quickly she intervened –
"The cup's a Horcrux."
"WHAT?!"
"Hermione...!"
Theo instinctively flinched away from the small golden relic. "Are you serious? A bloody Horcrux!"
"Yes."
"You-Know-Who made a Horcrux!?"
"Six, actually."
"Yeesh."
"...Yes."
"So that's what you've been doing all this while? Tracking down Horcruxes?"
"Basically."
"Hold on a second," Ron broke in angrily, "You know what a Horcrux is?"
"You know who my father is?" came Theo's pat reply.
"You mean," Hermione spluttered with dread, "That your father's made one too?"
"Nah. He just told me all about them during my pre-Hogwarts lessons. One of the greatest magical accomplishments, according to him."
"Your father is a sick bastard," Ron spat.
"Finally something we can agree on, Weasley."
As they eyed each other guardedly, Harry resurfaced with a groan.
"He knows," he rasped, "He knows and he's going to check where the others are... and the last one is at Hogwarts. I knew it. I knew it."
Harry jumped into a standing position spryly, and it was hard to believe that just a moment ago he was trembling feebly on the ground.
"What?" blurted Theo and Ron.
"But what did you see?" Hermione questioned, "How do you know?"
"I saw him find out about the cup, I – I was in his head," Harry began pacing as the other three got to their feet, "he's... seriously angry, and scared too. Can't understand how we knew, and now he's going to check if the others are safe, the ring first. He thinks the Hogwarts one is safest, because Snape's there, because it'll be hard not to be seen getting in. I think he'll check that one last, but he could still be there within hours –"
"Did you see where in Hogwarts it is?" Ron asked.
"No, he was concentrating on warning Snape, he didn't think about exactly where it is – fuck – We need to get going."
"But how are we going to get in?" Hermione wondered fretfully.
"Hog's Head," said Theo immediately, "There's a way into the Room of Requirement in there. It's what Draco's been using all year..."
"Fine," Harry assented grimly, "It's a good thing it's dark... Hermione, you can fit under the Cloak with me, but first disillusion these two, yeah?"
She nodded and set to work, hoping Bellatrix's wand would let her cast the charm as well as her original wand had done. The results seemed satisfactory enough.
She walked slowly over to stand by Harry's side.
"Okay, everybody ready?" He swung the cloak around the two of them, and – "One... two... three..."
It had been a whirl: Seconds after they'd apparated to Hogsmeade, Death Eaters were on them – though, thanks to the cloak and disillusionments, they were able to escape into an alleyway, quickly.
"Let's just leave!" Hermione hissed.
"Yeah… Disapparate now!" Theo agreed.
"Great idea," Ron added.
("WE KNOW YOU ARE HERE, POTTER, AND THERE'S NO GETTING AWAY! WE'LL FIND YOU!")
"They were ready for us," whispered Harry. "They set up that spell to tell them we'd come. I reckon they've done something to keep us here, trap us –"
"We have to try, Harry!" Hermione beseeched.
But then came Dementors, and there was no way the Death Eaters wouldn't notice the brilliant silver stag that chased them away.
The Death Eaters were in an uproar –
"YOU broke the curfew, you doddering old fuck!" shouted one.
"I still say I saw a stag Patronus!" railed another.
The barman of the Hog's Head stared them down. "Stag? It's a goat, idiot!"
Still under the cloak, Hermione peeped over the bar to watch the scene. Evidently, the goat Patronus had persuaded the assembly of Death Eaters, for she saw only their backs as they walked out. The barman chained and bolted the front door behind them, then watched them for a while through a window.
Abruptly, he spun around, and gruffly called out, "It's safe. You can come out now," and once they had – "You bloody fools. What were you thinking, coming here?"
"Thank you," Harry said to him, "We can't thank you enough. You saved our lives!"
The barman merely grunted, before disappearing into an adjoining room.
"Cheerful bugger, isn't he?" Theo whispered.
"...Like a slice of Snape," Hermione rejoined.
"With Pince drizzle," Theo continued.
"And a Filch on the top."
"I'm starving," Ron moaned, and they all stared at him, quite disturbed. "What?"
Luckily for Ron, the barman returned with a plate laden with bread and cheese, and a jug full of mead. They fell upon it like noble Brutus fell upon his sword, like Icarus fell to the sea; with finality, with passion, with outstanding grace.
"Fank oo, real goof," said Ron with outstanding grace.
The barman nodded.
Harry swallowed a mouthful, cleared his throat and said, not as a question but a statement, "You're Aberforth."
"Aye."
Hermione stopped eating to stare at the man who Rita Skeeter had written off as an irredeemable freak. Bearded like his brother, and bespectacled, too. His eyes were the same brilliant blue, and they were narrowed as he watched Harry.
"Right then," he said, "We need to think of the best way to get you out of here. Can't be done by night, you heard what happens if anyone moves outdoors during darkness..."
"No," Harry cut in, "We aren't leaving."
"Don't be stupid, boy!"
"We need to get into Hogwarts! If you can't help us, we'll wait till daybreak, leave you in peace, and try to find a way in ourselves..."
"But you can help," Theo added, "There's a way in from here, don't deny it. Where is it?"
"Please," Hermione implored.
Aberforth looked at all of their faces closely, one by one, and then sighed, seeming to cave. He turned to the portrait of a young girl on the wall behind him, and muttered, "You know what to do."
She smiled, turned and walked away, receding into the tunnel painted behind her. And when she eventually returned, she was not alone. The one with her, undoubtedly male, possessed a much taller, much broader frame.
And when the portrait swung open like a door and he tumbled out, Hermione gave a little whoop of delight.
"Neville!"
Neville, looking more hard and weathered than she had ever seen him, grinned broadly. "I knew you'd come! I knew it!"
As they walked down the dark and narrow tunnel, Neville told them all about the many ways the Carrows had terrorized the teachers and students of Hogwarts. He was so… cavalier about it all; entirely unruffled. Though he was limping, and though one of his eyes was swollen shut, he appeared genuinely and utterly delighted to see them all again.
Casually, he mentioned incidents that made Hermione's stomach turn: Terry Boot getting beaten up, the relentless use of the Cruciatus curse during lessons, Michael Corner getting chained up and tortured, Padma suffering the wrath of Alecto for weeks, Seamus being sentenced to daily lashings…
"My god, Neville," she half-sobbed.
"We're all alright, though," he put an arm around her and smiled, "You'll see. They'll all be bloody chuffed to see you!"
"Who are you?" Ron asked him with awe, and he chuckled.
"Well… here we are," he announced as they arrived at a door. As he pulled it open he shouted, "Look who it is! Didn't I tell you?"
Harry walked through the opening first. He was greeted with a humungous roar, and so the remaining three rushed on after him…
The Room of Requirement was larger than she had ever seen, full of beds, sofas, lamps, bookcases, and colourful hangings depicting all four houses; but that wasn't what rooted Hermione to the ground. It was the massive throng of people that gathered around, hugging her, patting her back, shaking her hand...
"HARRY!" "It's Potter – POTTER!" "Ron!" "Hermione!" "Oh... Theo!"
"Okay, okay, calm down!" Neville ordered, and they all listened. He was, well and truly, their leader. What a marvel that boy was!
"Wow," Theo breathed, looking about him.
"Surpassed itself, hasn't it?" Neville beamed.
"It's all down to Neville," Seamus said, "He really gets this room – knows exactly what to ask. Neville's the man!" His face was so badly swollen, that his grin looked painful. Hermione hurriedly took some murtlap essence out from her bag and handed it to him. "So... what are you –"
Harry jerked and fell to his knees, hands rising up to find his scar.
"Harry! Are you alright?"
"Potter!"
"Harry!"
"What –"
"We need to get going," Harry muttered through his teeth, looking hard at Hermione and Ron.
"What are we going to do, then, Harry?" asked Seamus, "What's the plan?"
"Plan? Well, there's something we – Ron, Hermione, and I – need to do, and then we'll get out of here."
Everybody stopped chattering at once.
"What d'you mean, 'get out of here'?"
"We haven't come back to stay," Harry replied shortly, "There's something important we need to do –"
"What is it?"
"I – I can't tell you."
Hermione saw Theo's lips thin, Neville's eyebrows push together, and Seamus's nostrils flare.
"Why can't you tell us?" Neville demanded, "It's something to do with fighting You-Know-Who, right?"
"Well, yes –"
"Then we'll help you."
Cries of hear hear erupted across the room. Hermione saw so many faces that made her heart leap – Parvati, Lavender, Ernie, Justin, Terry...
"You don't understand," Harry mumbled feebly, "We – we can't tell you. We've got to do it – alone."
"Oh get over yourself, Potter!" Theo burst out, "I'm so tired of this solo woe-is-me-trip you have going. Didn't you hear what Longbottom said? We're all fighting the same war. Let them bloody help you!"
"Good man!" Seamus cheered, and a few people even applauded.
Harry glared. "Dumbledore left the three of us a job and we weren't supposed to tell! I mean, he wanted us to do it, just the three of us."
"We're his army," Neville said fervently, "Dumbledore's Army. We've been keeping it going while you three have been off on your own –"
"It hasn't exactly been a picnic, mate," Ron interjected.
"I'm sure it hasn't but I don't see why you can't trust us! Everyone in this room's been fighting and they've been driven in here because the Carrows were hunting them down. Everyone in here's proven they're loyal to Dumbledore – loyal to you."
The uncomfortable silence that followed was, thankfully, short-lived. The door leading to the secret tunnel popped open and Luna, Dean, and Malfoy strolled in. There were twin roars of delight from Theo and Seamus as they both ran toward the new arrivals. Theo kissed Luna in a way that led to many wolf whistles, and Seamus hugged Dean like they were meeting after twenty years.
But the most bizarre thing to happen was Neville going over to clap Malfoy on the back.
"Malfoy! Good to see you again, mate."
"Longbottom," Malfoy replied stiffly, "You look like shite."
"Well, you haven't been around to heal me, have you?"
("Have we entered an alternate reality?" Ron whispered, dumbstruck.)
"What the hell are they doing here?" Harry demanded.
"I called them," Neville responded, holding up a DA Galleon, "I promised I would when you'd show up to help us reclaim Hogwarts."
"That's what we're doing, isn't it Harry?" Luna trilled from between Theo's arms, "We're going to fight them out of Hogwarts?"
Harry's mouth opened and closed soundlessly a few times. "Listen," he stuttered, "I'm sorry, but that's not what we came back for. There's something we've got to do, and then –"
"You're going to leave us in this clusterfuck?" Michael Corner spat.
"No!" said Ron, "What we're doing will benefit everyone in the end, it's all about trying to get rid of You-Know-Who –"
"Then let us help!" said Neville angrily. "We want to be a part of it!"
They were saved by the door again: This time it marked the arrival of Fred, George, Lee Jordan, and...
"Ginny!"
She smiled, brightly, widely, (her bright red hair just brushing the tops of her shoulders,) and threw herself into Harry's embrace.
"Little brother!" Fred and George cried in unison and tackled Ron.
"Aberforth's getting a bit annoyed," said Lee Jordan, "He wants a kip, and his bar's turned into a railway station."
As Hermione hugged Ginny, George loosened his chokehold on Ron and conversationally enquired, "So what's the plan, Harry?"
"There isn't one," Harry groaned.
"Just going to make it up as we go along, are we? My favourite kind," Fred rejoiced.
"That's the Potter way," said Theo dryly.
"You've got to stop this!" Harry begged Neville despairingly, "What did you call them all back for? This is insane –"
"Why can't they help?" said Ron suddenly.
"What?"
Ron pulled him and Hermione aside. "They can help," he whispered, "We don't know where it is; we've got to find it fast. We don't have to tell them it's a Horcrux."
"Ron's right," Hermione agreed firmly, "We need them. You... You... don't have to do everything alone, Harry."
He had a funny look on his face as he mulled that over, upset but also completely bewildered.
"All right," he said in the end, and he turned towards the anxious crowd. "Okay."
xxx
Ravenclaw's lost diadem was a gamble by any definition, but it was the only lead they had.
Harry locked his hands behind his back and whispered to Hermione and Ron, "I'm going to go and look at this statue of Ravenclaw... at least find out what the diadem looks like. Wait for me here and keep, you know – the other one – safe."
"Yes."
"Sure."
Harry looked askance at Cho, who jumped to her feet, but Ginny brusquely insisted, "No. Luna will take Harry, won't you, Luna?"
Luna smiled brightly, "Oooh, yes, I'd like to." (And Cho sat back down looking decidedly cross.)
"I'm coming too," said Theo in a tone that brooked no arguments.
xxx
Once Harry, Luna, and Theo had gone, Hermione wandered around the large room, taking in everything. It was like being inside an enormous bomb shelter.
The recent turn of events had given rise to an air of flagrant excitement, and all around, people were chatting, convening, buzzing...
Terry Boot smiled at her as she passed the corner where he was huddled with Michael, Cho, Lisa, and Mandy.
Ernie and Justin waved as she walked by.
She grinned when she saw Parvati and Lavender asking Angelina to plait their hair into serviceable, battle-friendly styles.
Her eyebrows shot up when she saw Padma and Tracy sitting awfully close together, talking in whispers, with their hands tightly clasped.
Then she got to where Fred, George, and Ginny were sitting with Malfoy.
"Draco," sang Fred.
"Draaaaaaaco," crooned George.
They put their heads together, fluttered their eyelashes and sighed, "Oh, Draco!"
"What's all this?" Hermione demanded of Ginny who shot her an amused look.
"Fred and George are imitating mum. She's very grateful that Malfoy risked his life to warn us about the attack on the Burrow."
Malfoy looked very sorry indeed that he had done so.
"Would you like some cake, Draco?" said Fred.
"Is that horrid wooden chair too hard on your precious little arse, Draco?" said George.
Ginny snickered, "I won't be surprised if mum declares him an honorary Weasley."
Malfoy turned vaguely green. "Just fuck off will you?"
"But, George... do you think Draco dear will be able to pull off red hair?"
"With that face and those eyes? How can you even ask, Fred?"
"Oh sorry, sorry. Won't daddy Malfoy be thrilled..."
Hermione moved on. Neville and Dean were sitting with Seamus as some fifth year Ravenclaw girl slathered murtlap essence all over his face.
"...need a wand," Dean muttered.
Seamus gasped, "You don't have a wand?!"
"Wait... I have a couple of spare ones," said Neville reassuringly, "Nicked them from the Carrow's confiscated lot..."
Finally, at one corner of the room, sitting by the wall directly under the Gryffindor banner, Hermione found Ron.
"Isn't this the craziest thing you've ever seen?" he mumbled as she sat down next to him.
"Really, Ron," she smiled, "After... well, everything... this is what throws you?"
"Er... yeah?"
Hermione laughed. "I know what you mean though. This is weird. It's incredible."
They stared about them in amazement for a while.
Then, Ron looked at her questioningly. "What do you reckon... this diadem thing... do you think it's what we're looking for?"
"I don't know," Hermione mumbled, and just like that all her optimism came crashing down, "Honestly, it better be. We have nothing else to go on."
"Right." Ron ran a hand through his hair anxiously.
"But," she continued, "Even if it is a Horcrux... we have no way of getting rid of it, do we?"
"Fuck, you're right," Ron groaned, "Too bad we don't have a couple the basilisk's toothpicks... at... hand..." He trailed off, and a look of wonder bloomed across his face.
"Ron? What–?"
"That's it!" he exclaimed. His eyes were so wide... "The basilisk! Hermione...! The basilisk!"
"What are you –"
"It's still here, innit? In the Chamber of Secrets... we can just go pick up a couple of its fangs and –"
"Oh my god!" she gasped.
"Yeah?"
"YES! Ron... YES. That's... That's BRILLIANT!"
"So shall we go then?"
"Absolutely! Shit, Ron, you're a genius!"
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," he grinned as she gaped. Looking over his shoulder he called, "Oi, Neville... wouldn't have some brooms lying about here, would you?"