Hermione walked in step with Nott in the front row of the Slytherin contingent. She stood in place while Headmaster Snape spoke. She held her breath during his pause in the middle of 'equally guilty'. She didn't feel guilty. She felt free. Whatever happened now would happen with a cast of thousands. The momentum was so forceful all she could do was play her part.
Shifting out of place while Potter riposted, she froze when everyone else did at Voldemort's voice resonating in their skulls. Hermione knew what was happening; the cause of the screams and shudders but she heard no echoes herself. The Dark Lord did not whisper to her. Surprise put her on the back foot and she nearly missed her cue.
"But he's..." Parkinson pointed at the Chosen One then gave at the knees as Cathal's Stunner hit her in the back. Montague caught her with Quidditch reflexes and instinctive chivalry. Everyone else took a quick step back, looking for the source of the wordless curse.
"I think given the circumstances, Slytherin House will recuse itself, Acting Headmistress." Hermione declared, consciously addressing Professor McGonagall to keep the flow of events.
"I think that would be wise, Miss Rosier." The Scottish witch agreed. "Mr Filch!" Head of Gryffindor interrupted the caretaker as he charged into the Hall yelling. "Please escort the Head Girl and the rest of her House to their Common Room."
They left in good order, they'd had a year's worth of practice marching in formation, and went obediently below stairs. Filch hung about to make sure no one tried to skulk away. Hermione politely shut the door in his face before turning to her fellow Snakes. She still had her wand out, which she rather expected most had noticed.
"Right, everyone knows the evacuation plan." Hermione said briskly, keeping her voice level and regular. "Malfoy, open the Floo for Yaxley if you would be so kind." The blond went to the hearth, touched his wand to his Dark Mark then conjured flame. Snape had closed to fireplaces to all except Death Eaters. "Corwin, fetch your house elves, please."
The Sixth Year stepped swiftly through the green fire. The younger students did as they had been instructed. They packed their trunks as though it was the end of the school year, collected their familiars, and arranged themselves in their gendered Year groups. Yaxley was back within minutes with five house elves, who Apparated the boys and girls out starting with the firsties. Hestia and Flora ticked off names as they left.
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle sneaked off sometime during the evacuation. When Nott brought their absence to her attention, he'd made no move to stop them, she shrugged. She'd announced that anyone who was of age could do what they liked, before adding an escape clause in a request that the older students accompany the younger to the Yaxley estate to help wrangle the children.
She and Nott were left alone in the empty room. Corwin had been the last to leave, having failed to persuade either of them to accompany him. They'd shaken hands. The classic Slytherin reticence kept him from asking what they planned to do. Hermione wouldn't have told him even if he had. She was trying to come up with a lie now for Theo.
"My father would want me to leave." He remarked to the chaises and antique carpets.
"My grandmother would likely agree with him." She had made as many precautions against blood magic compulsions as she could find, more than half expecting Siglinde to try to force her home. "Common sense would lean the same way."
"But you're not going." Nott lifted his gaze to her wand. "You have a plan."
"I do." Hermione confirmed, surprising herself with how happy she felt. Nervous and keyed up also but it was so wonderful to finally be able to do something direct. She was looking forward to being able to curse Death Eaters. "I'm going to find Rookwood. He's up to something."
"Perhaps at the Dark Lord's behest." Theo objected with the air of a man observing the weather. A pleasant day, a brisk wind. Not something over which he was especially bothered.
"To curry the Dark Lord's favour, certainly." Hermione tapped the gold wire behind her ear, sending the pre-arranged signal to Moppet. The house elf popped in already in her armour with headgear more like a bicycle helmet to allow for her ears. Around her waist she had a bum bag in an eye-watering orange, from which she drew her wand and pointed it at Nott.
"Moppet can make him sleepy." Moppet said confidently. "Moppet does not think he is a nice boy."
"That is part of your plan?" The wizard inquired, trying for sangfroid. The sight of a house elf with a wand, a bold elf with its own wand, shocked him.
"Moppet and I have been preparing for this battle for years." The witch explained to his deepening frown. "After Rookwood, I'm going to get the Carrows then anyone else who needs to be put down."
"And my father?" Theo asked tautly.
"I have no quarrel with him." Hermione met his eyes. "When the fight turns, he'll Apparate for home. My grandmother too."
"You think Potter will win?" His tone suggested he'd never given it serious consideration.
"I've seen it." She used 'seen' deliberately, knowing Nott would hear the word capitalised. "I'm sure."
"You've done nothing to stop it?" He kept his hands carefully away from his wand. "Your father died for the Dark Lord!"
"Many people have said that. No one has ever asked if I thought Tom Riddle was worthy of his sacrifice." Hermione saw he recognised the name. Tristan Nott had gone to Hogwarts with the Heir of Slytherin. Someone had been telling tales out of school. "Voldemort is killing pure-bloods. He's ended more lineages in two wars than have died out in five centuries. He isn't about protecting our heritage. We're meat to him."
"What if you're wrong?" Theo protested, holding up his hands to still her when she made to object. "Not about the casualties. I can count. I don't think you're incorrect about the numbers." One of the first books he'd read was Cantankerus Nott's Pure-Blood Directory. Not for ideological reasons but because he was desperately lonely and wanted to find cousins to play with. "What if the Dark Lord wins? If you're lucky, he'll kill you."
"If he wins, I'll run. Not my best hour but living to fight another day and all that." She took a deep breath. "There'll be another fight. Even if he kills Potter, crushes the Order of the Phoenix, grinds everyone else under his heel, he'll have less than a decade in power. He's driven himself mad with Dark Magic. He's unstable. There's no way the ICW will let him run amok. He's a walking Secrecy violation. They won't risk another Grindelwald."
"The Confederation hasn't done much so far." Other than in their very fine ostrich imitation, the International Confederation of Wizards had not distinguished themselves.
"That was under Fudge and Scrimgeour, neither of whom had lieutenants who amuse themselves with torture. Thicknesse is a figurehead and the crawlers like Umbridge behind him won't be able to contain the rabid Death Eaters. Someone'll Crucio an ambassador then it'll be obvious the lunatics are running the asylum." Hermione had, regrettably, had a lot of time to consider the consequences of failure. "Tell me I'm wrong."
"I can't." Theo conceded reluctantly. "What do I do? My father won't survive another stint in Azkaban."
"Go to Gringotts, withdraw all the money you can access then request an audit on the rest of the Nott vaults. For the price of every goblin-made thing your family owns, they'll keep your holdings from the Ministry for a while." She anticipated there would be an epidemic of estate seizures in the aftermath of the war. "You won't be able to get a Portkey but a Nott elf will be able to Apparate you and your father to one of your holiday homes without a trace. Then your father goes to ground in one of the pure-blood bastions like Monaco or Andorra."
"Have you made similar arrangements?" He was curious how sure she really was.
"Somewhat." Hermione wanted to avoid any mention of hiding in the Muggle milieu. "Not as much as I'd like. The blood magic makes everything complicated."
"Will you think poorly of me if I don't stay?" Theo didn't consider himself a brave man. He would always fulfil his responsibilities but trouble avoided was trouble overcome.
"Not at all." She favoured him with a wry smile, thinking of Ron, Zabini, and Zacharias Smith. At least Nott wasn't leaving her in the lurch or shoving his way to the head of the queue. Seeing practically all of Ravenclaw and half of Hufflepuff go had stung Granger. A few snakes slithering off rather than commit patricide hardly registered. "It's all in the manner of your going."
"Is there anything I can say to persuade you to come with me?" He reached for her hand, brushing his fingers over hers but not clutching when she twitched away. "The Rosiers are well known for their vindictiveness."
"I am nothing if not traditional." Hermione chuckled softly, not sharing the joke.
Theodore Nott kissed her chastely before calling for Esne. He left without farewell, not wanting to acknowledge this parting as perhaps final. Hermione sighed when he vanished. There was no point in pining for a future Cathal likely didn't have. She changed into her own armour, swapping her skirt for cargo pants. No one was going to cite her for a uniform violation.
She filled her pockets with all the weaponised unkindness seven years in Slytherin had inspired her to create. Her goal, Hermione reminded herself, was to stop the event that had ripped a hole in the fabric of reality. Reciprocity was a secondary objective. She spread her Map out on the floor before using one of the image projection charms she'd found when researching ways to get at her memory of the Chamber of Secrets password. She'd found another way to get in and this spell didn't work with a Pensieve anyway but it did make a crisp 3D image of Hogwarts.
"If I'm sure of anything, it's that whatever happened started underground. The earth shook. No air burst or building collapse. Nothing big impacted." A circling gesture with her wand rotated the projection. "If we can sequester people out of the cellars, or at least compartmentalise, then we can check faster. I'm going to activate all the loci. Assuming I've scribed the sigils correctly, they should act as wards."
"Assume means me and you is ass." Moppet peered at the complex overlay of the Castle and grounds. Hogwarts was alive. Shown this way with all the people and bits it looked like it was innards of some beastie. A sick beastie with nasties nibbling on it. "Yous sits down before you does the thing or Moppet thinks you definitely be ass."
Hermione took her advice, stretching out beside the Map to make complex volutes with her wand arm. She'd put a lot of work into marking the coordinates. Years of effort could have been wasted if she'd done it incorrectly. Hoping that this wasn't the trigger of the temporal disruption, the witch released her power into the network.
The drain was far, far greater than she had anticipated. It hit her like a blow to the solar plexus, all breath gone in a rush. If she'd been on her feet, she would've collapsed. Even prone, she felt the room spin and had to swallow gorge. It settled slowly, attenuating to an absence Hermione could best describe as light-headedness. It was bearable but she wouldn't be in a hurry to experience it again.
"We feel you." The Voice spoke from the parchment Map not the projected image but the witch was disorientated enough that the echoes seemed to come from everywhere. "You have done well to share your awareness."
"Yeah." Hermione said eloquently, sparks dancing in front of her eyes.
"If you die so joined with us, you will become one with us." Hogwarts remarked, its tone suggesting approval. She answered with a groan. "It is an honour."
"I would rather not die at all today, no offence." Hermione heaved herself into a sitting position, grimacing as her head felt ready to roll off her shoulders. Several long slow deep breaths and a little time got her back some of what she had given. Her magic was trickling in to refill her. The draw of the network was much lower than the opening cost.
"We have less discretion in the matter than we wish." The Voice stated dourly. "Our children fight each other. It hurts us to harm those who have given of themselves to us." The silence lengthened after this confession. "We wish this were otherwise."
"So do I." She agreed, pushing herself upright. "How much help can you give?"
"We are between two conduits. Our attention is divided further by the defences." Hogwarts became brisk, the echoes of a thousand Professors in its tone. "With the locus network, we can cede some of our awareness to you so that you might shine a light in the dark places. Beyond that, you have made no oaths of binding. The directions of the locum Headmistress and the pseudo-Headmaster take precedence."
"Can you show me any leys within or near the school?" Hermione wasn't fettered to the idea Rookwood was tampering with the mystical bones of the land but there were few other ways for today to go disastrously wrong. By and large, magic was predictable. Except when it wasn't.
She sensed rather than heard the Castle's reply. Through her link with Moppet, she had a heightened awareness of the energy currents around her. What Hogwarts gave her was sharp sight of how the buildings and wards distorted the currents; like a blueprint over a watercolour. Hermione blinked, the after-image fireworks behind her eyelids.
"Right." She said. "Well, I asked for that."
Two aspirin and an energy drink later, Hermione headed with Moppet to the Hufflepuff Common Room. There were certain niceties she felt obliged to observe. She was the Head Girl after all, and the door opened for her so she had no excuse not to check. The sett was empty with every sign of a hasty departure. They checked the hidey-holes then moved on.
Most of the dungeons existed because even with magic the buildings above needed deep footings to be structurally stable. At various times when food supplies had been less secure, most of the understorey had been used as a larder. In the early centuries after Founding, Hogwarts had grown much of its own produce and accepted field labour as tuition payment. Closing off those parts of the Castle was easy, slipping them away into dormancy. But the problem had never been a random dry store or old cellar.
"I bloody wish for once someone did due diligence and cleaned house." Hermione set a globe of light into the Portus Circumscriptus, used in the Renaissance as a holding area for the unruly. It had been the scene of several extrajudicial killings that later historians had cloaked in euphemism as duelling accidents.
The residual death magic made it a favourite place for necromantic experimentation until it had been circumscribed by Headmaster Swott. That prohibition had lingered with decreasing enforcement until Headmaster Egg had relegated it in his infamous bonfire of ordinances in 1896, shortly before he was forcibly retired.
The Portus would've been thematically ideal for a dark rite to bend the Castle to Voldemort's will. Fortunately there was no ley line nearby. Hermione sealed off the chamber except for a narrow access way between corridors to avoid creating dead-ends where students might be trapped. She did the same with the other most likely 'sympathetic' locations, working methodically through her list until she and Moppet heard the first thud of a magical explosion from above.
"No more spell bubble." The house elf said grimly.
"I really wanted to beat Rookwood to the site." Hermione remarked, equally bleak. "Fuck." She gritted her teeth. A nice little ambush, something relatively safe. Safish. She pulled the Map out to hunt for his name.
Script flickered in and out of intelligibility as Death Eaters Apparated into the Castle grounds and were repelled. She'd try to help where she could but Rookwood was her best lead. Hermione wanted to batten him down before she joined the melee. Turning on the search function, another of her innovations, the Map scrolled swiftly to show his location. In the kitchens.
"Is there a power source there?" The witch asked. "Something other than the hearth ward?"
"Moppet knows of nothing." The house elf's ears flattened against her head. "Hearth crowds out anything else. Big old magic. Hufflepuff Founder was strong earth witch."
From hovel to palace, the hearth ward was the centre of any magical household. A heart that grew or withered with the occupants. The longer a building was occupied, the stronger the hearth ward. Even mundane structures could develop a ward if they were a 'home' long enough. And there would be a ley line, likely a nexus.
They quickly thrashed out a plan of attack. It wasn't a great plan, particularly if Nott was right about Rookwood warding himself against elf magic, but they'd run out of time. Finding a mirror was easy. Ouphe had been zealous in arranging them around the Castle. There were scrying spells as well as transportation spells that worked through reflective surfaces so they could look before they leaped.
Hermione cast the spell, picked up Moppet, and jumped onto the mirror she'd set flat on the ground. She fell out of the one above the mantelpiece feet first, rolling gracelessly on impact. Nothing broke or sprained but she ended up in a sprawl. The house elf immediately put a Shield Spell around them with her wand then flung knives at Rookwood with elf magic.
The cutlery bounced off his cloak with little more than a ripple. As her friend got to her feet, Moppet tried throwing bigger things. She'd always wanted to throw pots at wizards. So now she did; pots and pans and cauldrons and everything. Nothing hit the nasty man, which made her cross. So she throwed more stuff.
"Expelliarmus!" Hermione tried for his wand and it jerked in his hand but didn't fly to hers. "Sectumsempra!"
He fought. Oh, how he fought. He talked too, disgusting suggestions of what he would do to her when he won. The filth spewed out of him, worse in its way than anything Fenrir Greyback had said to her. The lycanthrope could be excused as feral. Rookwood was as sane as anyone could be after Azkaban. The perversions were a pastime.
In his prime as an Unspeakable, she doubted they would've been able to drop him. He was skilled and he was vicious but the Dementors had taken more than his happy thoughts from him. He tired quickly casting and dodging. Moppet made the floor greasy then shoved chairs forward to herd him into a corner. Rookwood blasted a route clear, rushing to a better position when his foot slid. Just a little misstep but it was enough.
Hermione's Slicing Curse caught his forearm, severing it. She followed with a flurry of blood-letting spells, opening him up before adding a Silencing Spell and a Full-Body Bind. Neither she nor Moppet approached until Rookwood lay in a red pool. The house elf retrieved his wand and snapped it. They'd already discussed what they would do with any captured wands. They had enough spares they could destroy those attuned to Dark Magic.
Hermione decapitated Rookwood. That was probably gratuitous given the mess she'd made of him but she want to be sure. She Vanished his body as the idea of putting her hands in his pockets to search him revolted her. Carefully, she put his head in a big jar, fastened the lid, and made it impervious to breakage. The Ministry would want confirmation he was dead.
Then carefully, very meticulously carefully, she cleaned up all the blood. Hermione did not want him haunting the Castle. Moppet began fixing the furniture, putting it all to rights to undo any connection the wizard might have to the place of his death. The Hogwarts elves emerged from their bunker in the root cellar and wordlessly joined them in tidying up. The ley thrummed around them refreshed by the sacrifice.
Hermione was far from certain Rookwood's death had resolved the unravelling. She didn't feel any different, which wasn't all that reassuring. Seven years in this body had made it feel ordinary unless she dwelled on the identity difference. In some ways, she'd miss being Cathal. It'd been so long since she'd been her other self that she wasn't sure whether she'd be able to adjust. Of course, this life might fade into memory like the horcrux nightmares without magic to power them.
As an Unspeakable, Rookwood had been the most likely candidate, assuming the event had a single discrete cause. Knowing what she did about magic, which wasn't nearly as much as she'd like even with two goes at schooling, it could be anything. She might well have already changed circumstances just enough that the perfect storm wouldn't happen.
Rookwood wouldn't be able to tamper with the ley at the hearth ward. Snape forewarned might have the anti-venom with him. Now they were at the bleeding edge, she could make changes. And high up on her List, were the Carrows. Using the Mirror Walk spell again to bypass the fighting, she wanted to stay out of sight until the last horcruxes were gone, Hermione took herself and Moppet to Ravenclaw Tower.
The Eagles' eyrie was deserted. They checked the dormitories in case anyone had been left behind. Moppet found a toad in a vivarium under a bed in the Second Year Boys' room, which she popped down to the kitchen for safekeeping. Hermione found a stash of alcohol, which she appropriated for the cause.
Alecto and Amycus Carrow were trussed up still unconscious. Tucked neatly away behind a sofa, the pair prompted Hermione to some contemplation. The things she could do to them. Her repertoire of cruelty was not inexhaustible and compared to the Death Eaters themselves she was an enthusiastic amateur. She could spend hours ensuring the siblings paid their pound of flesh.
"I'll take Amycus. You can have Alecto." Hermione offered Moppet. That seemed fair. The house elves had suffered as much if not more than the students under the Carrows' regime.
"Moppet thinks she doesn't have the times she wants to do a good job." Moppet mused, prodding the unconscious witch with her wand. "We has other chores."
"I don't want to learn anything more from them." The witch agreed. Letting her rage go now, before the war was won, seemed foolish. She didn't want to put off her revenge so she settled for efficiency, and two more pickling jars.
The Map showed her the Weasley Twins. The Via Speculo brought her within two corridors of them. Actually approaching was more difficult as Fred and George were in the thick of it. Hermione had long ago discarded any sense of fair play or chivalry when it came to duelling. The codified rules were fine for competitive matches but this was life and death, and the death wouldn't be hers.
She got Avery in the back with an Os curse, calcifying his lungs to his ribcage. He dropped not even able to gasp. Her boot to his chest, shattering the newly formed fragile bone, was about seventy percent payback. Moppet grabbed his wand and snapped it. The house elf hadn't seen the bad wizard touch her witch but she could feel her wrath through their bond.
One of the new Death Eaters whose shiny mask she didn't recognise, turned when Avery crumpled. Perhaps he had time to realise who she was before the Weasley Twins got him with a spectacularly orange curse that turned him into a cloud of butterflies. The rabble scattered, a kaleidoscope of bright hues.
"What's a bad girl like you doing in a place like this?" Fred waggled his eyebrows at her, darting a glance over her unusual armour.
"Settling accounts." Hermione answered crisply. She unclipped her helmet. "Gemino." The potion medium liked being duplicated. Chiselling it out of the moulds was the trick. "Here, wear these. Don't ask. That's the favour you owe me."
"This is Muggle stuff." George said in a theatrical aside. "Have you been slumming?"
"Just duplicate them and pass them around. Falling masonry is as lethal as magic." The witch accepted two jars from Moppet, stowing them in her randoseru with the others. The twins stared at her as she shrugged her pack back on. "Inferi require intact bodies. The Dark Mark links all Death Eaters to their Master. I'm not willing to assume they'll stay dead if it's convenient for him for it to be otherwise."
"Rosier, are you quite sure you're on the right side?" Fred asked lightly, palming his wand in case the witch had been Confounded. A sharp look from her turquoise eyes convinced him if she had a sense of humour, she kept it in a jar with the rest of her collection.
