Disclaimer: The rights of Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling and Warner Bros. I am making no financial gain from this story whatsoever.
A/N: If I haven't mentioned it before, this story does have strong language.
Chapter 17
Leads and Ends
Hermione walked swiftly through the corridors, furiously wiping her face and trying to stop the cracked sobs from pushing out of her throat (she failed). Her breaths were short, quick, and laboured. Her thoughts were countless, acute, and in disarray. Her movements were erratic, animated, and trembling.
She paid little attention to where she was headed, but her feet knew where to take her. She found herself in front of the door, unsurprisingly. She raised her hand and knocked, as always. She heard nothing, as always. And, like she did numerous times in the past few years, she turned around and headed down the corridor.
After she had taken five steps, the unlikely happened. She heard a door open. Rooted to the spot, she refused to turn around, to at least grasp the hope of it being the door for a few seconds more before the certain realisation that it was some other door.
"Hermione?" a voice called down.
It couldn't be...
"Harry?" she asked as she quickly turned around. The answer appeared before her. Harry stood there, and despite the weariness he displayed, and the tired sag of his shoulders, he was grinning. What fortuitous timing.
"How did you know I was here?" he asked. "I just came."
"Oh?" she stammered. "Just some spell I found by chance," she lied as she waved the question away. "Where are you staying now?"
"Prague," he replied simply. "Lovely city. Come in, there are a few things I have to do. We can talk in my room."
They entered the room, and Hermione wasn't surprised to see it look as neat as before, except for a single drawer which was completely taken out and it's contents all over the bed.
"What are you looking for?" she asked.
"My switching crystal," Harry said as he rummaged through the cupboard. He didn't turn around when she sat on the bed (making sure she didn't disturb the objects).
"So," Harry said, trying to start a conversation. "How have things been?"
"Okay," Hermione said.
The rustling sounds stopped, and Harry's head went around the cupboard door.
"Is something the matter?" he said, frowning. "One would think you'd be happier to see me."
"Oh no," Hermione blustered, wiping her face. "I just had a fight."
"With Ron?" Harry asked, unsurprised.
"Yes."
Harry went back to his searching. "I hope everything went well."
"Aren't you going to ask what the fight was over?" Hermione asked, puzzled.
"Why should I?" Harry asked back. "It's hard not to appear as taking sides, and not knowing why you're fighting would make it easier."
"It makes sense," Hermione shrugged. "But I think this is getting extremely tedious, and it might not last much longer..."
"You think?" queried Harry.
"No, it's pretty clear there are issues," Hermione confirmed. "I think I can give it some more time just to see, but I'm not hopeful. Hopefully it won't ruin our entire relationship."
"You've been friends for years," Harry consoled. "It'd take more than a few fights to break us all apart."
Harry continued to look around, and for the life of him, could not find the crystal. After a couple of minutes, he realised Hermione said nothing. He turned to see her staring at the wall, dazed. He sighed (he'd have to go on without the crystal) and walked over to her. He sat beside her, and only her scooting a bit to give him room gave any indication she noticed his presence.
"I really thought we could..." she began.
"Be together?" Harry finished. She nodded. "Well, what's happened has happened. There'll always be other people if it ends. And you may get together again."
"No," she said vehemently. "If we end it, it's over. I can't go through this again, nor drag him through it."
Harry remained silent. She hugged him, continued to pour out her problems.
"I mean, they always say opposites attract," she said into his shoulder. "Where are we going wrong?"
"Remus loved to say that 'opposites attract, but similar people endure'," Harry replied. "He said it peeved my parents as they each claimed to be nothing like the other."
"I don't even knew how we got to fighting," Hermione said. "I think it started on something completely innocent."
"Doesn't it always?" Harry asked with a smile. It was almost as if she could sense the smile, because Hermione hit his chest.
"A few arguments here and there never hurt," she argued.
"It does when you each take it so personally," he replied. "Neither of you are willing to let things go. You even argue about past arguments, long after they ended."
She didn't reply. Harry then pulled away, and got up.
Despite her anxiety, within a month or two later, Hermione and Ron appeared to have solved everything, and seemed like a great couple once again. This was to Harry's amusement and bemusement, and he told them that they seemed like they were never going to be apart for long.
"Well then," he said. "It's been nice seeing you."
"What?" Hermione was undoubtedly confused. "You can't be leaving now?"
"Sorry," Harry shrugged. "I only came here to have a meeting and then head right back."
"Why don't you leave tomorrow?" she asked. "I want to see my friend."
"I wasn't supposed to come here," Harry explained. "I got a contact and had to squeeze in some free time."
"What's so important?" she queried. "Why don't I come along to the meeting?"
"No," replied Harry, quite forcefully. He softened his tone. "I mean, I have to do this alone."
"Is it..."
"No no," Harry waved aside. "Nothing to do with Voldemort directly. It's Snape."
"Snape?" Hermione hissed in fury. "You're meeting Snape? It's a trap!"
"Not somewhere as public as the Three Broomsticks," Harry said. "I have to go alone. We need to find out what side he was on. After you suggested the rather far-fetched possibility of Dumbledore's death being a strategy, I started to have some doubts. Whether he attacks me or not, tonight we will find out."
"It's too risky, Harry."
"I have to know."
"Fine then," Hermione conceded, angrily. "But when you come back, come see me. There's much we have to catch up on."
She noticed the guilty look that spread on Harry's face. Her shoulders sagged.
"You're heading back after the meeting aren't you?" she sighed. The look on his face gave the answer. "Just spend a few hours here. How bad would it be? Seriously!"
"I don't like this," Harry said. "But I have no choice. Voldemort's getting stronger."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Harry sat in a corner, slowly sipping his mead. As he looked around, he decided that The Three Broomsticks did not look out of the ordinary, and was as crowded as usual.
He tried to ignore the loud conversations, the hustle and bustle as people moved about, instead attempting to concentrate on what shouldn't be there. Snape, for all his faults or not, would stick out very easily in such an establishment with hilarity and boisterousness.
Madam Rosmerta appeared beside him and gave him another glass. Upon looking at her questioningly, realising it was firewhisky, she explained a lady at the bar gave a round for everyone. Harry raised his glass, and asked Rosmerta to offer his thanks. As he downed the entire glass in one gulp, along with the entire pub, he gasped. This was far stronger than the regular firewhisky. He was groggy a minute after drinking. How alcoholic was this drink?
He was still shaking his head when a dark shadow sat in front of him. Looking up, he saw Snape in his usual. Sneering.
"Potter," he nodded.
"Snape," Harry replied, not risking a nod. "Let's go to somewhere less crowded."
Snape shook his head. "I'd rather not," he replied without explanation. "Let's get it over with. I'm..."
Harry didn't hear what Snape said at that point as he suddenly felt another presence in him. He looked around in surprise, which silenced Snape. He knew what this was, as many had tried it on him, while failing. The Imperius curse.
Harry found himself annoyed, and tried to throw out the presence quickly. It didn't work. He couldn't concentrate hard enough, with all the liquor inside him. He took a breath, and tried again. This time it worked.
As he was preoccupied with the curse, a person approached Snape from behind, and bent over, whispering in his ear. Snape's head fell to the table. By the time Harry threw off the Imperius, all he could see was the person ahead his wand withdrawn, which was at the same level as where the back of Snape's neck was before.
Harry stumbled to his feet and attempted to chase the attacker. As he struggled his way to the exit, falling at least twice (or was it three times?), he withdrew his wand from inside his clothes (after searching three wrong pockets). He opened the door and headed out into the Hogsmeade street. He saw the faint outline of the attacker up ahead, but the attacker didn't wait and quickly apparated away.
Harry stumbled to the ground and passed out.
As he awoke, Harry found himself closing his eyes immediately as the harsh glare of light doubled the already terrible headache he had. He groaned, and what didn't help was the female giggle that followed it. He opened his eyes cautiously, and very slightly, allowing only a bit of light in.
"Can you dim the lights, please?" he asked.
"Tough night Potter?" Hermione said mirthlessly as her face appeared over him.
"Where's Snape?" he asked.
She frowned. "He didn't survive the attack," she said. "Rosmerta contacted me when she realised it was death and not a pass-out. As she stepped outside to wait for me, she found you and took you inside. As I entered, I noticed your unconcious body on a table. Coming to see one dead person, I was horrified. I almost fell apart."
"I'm sorry," Harry said.
"Imagine my reaction when I was told that it was a pass-out and not a death," Hermione smiled softly.
"I'm not touching a drop ever again," he said.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The corridors were empty at the moment, with the children being taught by the remaining adults capable of doing so. As young Milton Brown said in dismay to his friend, Mary Brocklehurst, "We might get slaughtered by the muggles, but even that's not an excuse for no school."
Ron's footsteps broke the eery silence of the building, as he walked swiftly to Harry's room. He'd gone to speak to Dean and Seamus, to have a chat about the Freshner mission, as Harry said he had a few things to cover. After a few pints, Dean and Seamus admitted that they enjoyed the "adventure" and were willing to help out again if needed.
Gryffindors. Throwing ourselves into danger left and right, Ron snorted. It's a wonder we haven't become extinct.
He stopped at the Great Hall, upon hearing Draco's voice booming out. This must be one of the essential lessons, which was taught simultaneously to all the children. Certain spells, fighting techniques, and dealing with dangerous situations were taught to every child, regardless of age. The usual subjects of Charms, Transfiguration and so on were taught to smaller groups as much as possible, but with some teachers dead or left Britain, it wasn't easy. 'Essential' usally meant dangerous, and would've definitely been prevented by the Ministry under normal circumstances, but that wasn't a problem now.
"Put away your books," Draco said. "Today'll be only wand-work. Only one spell, really."
Ron heard that they were going to teach the kids a spell (or try to at least). He opened the Great Hall doors, and entered, watching the class from the back. The long benches and tables were gone, with each person was sitting on the floor.
"What do you know of shielding spells?" Draco asked. A number of hands went up. He pointed to one.
"It's a spell that protects a person from other spells," the student answered.
"Close," Draco said. "Some protect you from the physical, too, such as objects or heat.
"Some are stronger than others. Today, I'm going to show you a common one used in war. Has anyone heard of the Eurysaces magic?"
Nobody raised their hand.
"It's a shield spell, as I said earlier," Draco explained. "A somewhat useful one, but not the most powerful possible."
"Then why don't we just learn the most powerful one?" a student asked.
"For one thing, the powerful ones are generally difficult," replied Draco. "The second, just because they're powerful, it doesn't mean it can block all attacks. Certain shields work in certain circumstance. One must learn when to use which.
"The reason why we're going to learn the Eurysaces shield is, not only it's easier to learn than the others, but that it has a peculiar feature that makes it stand out from most other magic."
"What?"
"Once cast, the spellcaster isn't needed anymore," Draco explained. "And that's where it's use in battle makes it essential. Most spells disappear upon the death of the caster, but a few can persist. Of all the shield spells in Europe, only the Greek Eurysaces can continue on. Also, with a simple flick of the wand, one can move an already cast shield surrounding his or herself to surround another instead. Thus, distracted in the middle of battle, drained, or otherwise needing to rapidly protect someone, you can attempt to protect someone else by giving them your shield. Admittedly to your own disadvantage."
"So what?" asked a student. "If the caster's dead, who does he need to protect?"
"That's simplistic," said Draco. "We've always tried to defend others in war, and some of us have the fortitude to look past our own impending demise, and instead give an opportunity to those we love to escape."
"But how long can it last?"
"Not too long," replied Draco. "It usually depends on the caster's strength, and will at the moment the spell's cast. But it could last an hour, maybe two. Or it could last only fifteen minutes. When one is given such a protection, one doesn't dwell about."
"But what's so special about it?" a Ravenclaw named Mark Wilson asked. "I mean, we already know how to do shield spells. Plus, someone could do it alive."
"The advantage is clear," Draco said. "Anyone care to take a shot?"
One student answered, "Well, the one protected is free from expending his magic on the spell should he just flick his to someone else's..."
"Exactly, Sarah," Draco beamed. "But the problem here is that it's a sacrificial technique if used in such a manner. The person who makes the spell has already used magic. Should one be near the end of their lives and feel death is inevitable, they could use the ever slightest of magic they have left."
With that, Draco told the class to line up with a partner each, and practice the spell. He moved about, correcting each student when needed, or giving them added pointers with praise.
Ron decided that he had to continue on. He quietly left the room, and headed onwards to his destination.
He reached Harry's door, and was about to open it, but stopped as his arm was raised. You haven't been good friends with two people since the age of eleven if you're incapable of immediately detecting apprehension etched in their voices.
"It's decided, Hermione," Harry's voice came out of the door, as loud as it was firm.
"But we didn't discuss who'd do it," Hermion replied, just as forcefully.
"You asked which of us would be willing," he said, "and I volunteered."
"But..." Hermione started, but got interrupted by Harry.
"But nothing," he said. "You did the same thing in the Sheffield excursion against Voldemort."
Hermione said something low, inaudible to Ron.
"There's no reason to drag Ron into this," he said. "And you know it. He's lost family members, and such a discussion will just confuse things."
"But your life will change, Harry," Hermione said. Ron heard a sigh.
"I know, 'Mione," he said. "But one of us had to."
"I'm coming with you," she said.
"No."
"You're going to need me afterwards, and you know it," she hissed. "If I don't come, I'll never forgive you."
Accept it, Harry, Ron thought to himself. That tone from Hermione meant that she wasn't bluffing. Harry seemed to know as well, as he quickly acquiesced. He heard another inaudible mumble.
When Ron could tell this particular conversation was over, he counted to sixty, and when no other words were spoken, he knocked on the door and entered the room. He didn't say anything about it. He suspected he knew exactly what it was about, and believed he would hear about it before any action was taken.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Ginny sipped her coffee slowly as she sat at the cafe, waiting for Hermione to show up. She sat with her back to a wall, and able to watch in all directions. Why Hermione asked to meet in the muggle open was beyond her, but she usually had a good reason for what she did.
"Hope I didn't keep you waiting for too long," Hermione said, sitting down.
"Not too long," Ginny said. "But I'm not too fond of meeting in muggle territory."
"Don't worry," Hermione replied. "My contact should be coming soon."
Ginny started some small talk with Hermione until the 'contact' came. After chuckling over some idiot she went out with, she ventured a question.
"How are things in the dating realm for you?"
"Non-existent, as wars seem to cause," Hermione said nonchalantly, but her eyes were alert. She normally could tell when someone was trying to weave their way with a question.
"What about Harry?" Ginny ventured.
"We haven't discussed," Hermione said, but her eyes were darting around, scouring the surroundings. "Why do you ask? Want to get back with him?"
"No," Ginny waved aside. "He might've changed, but I still experienced all that. We had our chance, and sadly it's gone. Pity, he's a nice guy."
"Top bloke," Hermione said, then sighed. "What's going on Ginny? What's with the questions?"
Ginny blanched, but quickly recovered. "Nothing. I'm just questioning the love-lives of my friends."
"Because yours has been so facsinating," Hermione replied without humour.
"What's gotten into you?" Ginny asked.
Hermione rubbed her eyes. She sighed as she did so. Ginny then took a good look at Hermione's face. Her hair was combed, but somewhat quickly, a far difference from her very meticulous preparations she made every day.
"Did you even sleep last night?" Ginny said.
"Not if you consider lying on your bed for three hours with your eyes open as 'sleeping'," Hermione replied, taking a large sip of her coffee.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not really," Hermione replied. "But since part of it is why I needed to meet you, I might's well had to. I had a fight with Harry last night, and then a talk with him today morning that was even worse."
"What happened?" Ginny asked. Upon seeing Hermione's hesitation, she said firmly, "You can trust me. Go on."
"Well, since the meeting would already tell you what we're thinking, last night...
Hermione went in Harry's room, looking to discuss her investigation plans. She found the room in a mess, wondering why the house-elf didn't come to clean (disgusting wizard culture). She spotted him seated dejectedly, a glass of orange juice in his hand, and a plate of food in front of him. The plate was untouched. He didn't look good at all. Hermione thought he looked like he was under severe stress, and didn't know up from down. His entire face was lined with fatigue, sadness and above all, abandoned of all hope.
"Yes?" he asked, as if he was waiting for her to speak, despite looking like he was completely uninterested in her presence.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing."
"Don't be ridiculous," she said. "Something's bothering you. Is it Polanar?"
"Yes," he said simply. A moment of silence ensued.
"And...?" asked Hermione in encouragement.
"It was a memory charm," he said, and took a drink. "I've been running around coming up with mad theories and I didn't consider the obvious."
"Dumbledore gave you that answer..."
"Dumbledore is a painting," Harry interrupted. "I should've thought of that. I should've looked for possible culprits."
"And?" Hermione asked.
"Isn't it obvious?" replied Harry. "I might've figured out it was Polanar long before, and we wouldn't have been in this mess. I could've solved this. Instead, I'm believing fairy tales and in the process let the muggles start a war with us."
"It's not..."
"My fault?" Harry finished. "Familiar territory. Yet, this time it is. Other times I might've not known all the facts, but these dots were standing in front of me, begging to be joined. Stupidity in abundance."
"Well, what are we going to do?" Hermione asked. "Do we go after Polanar, the muggles, or to restrain the wizards?"
"Won't make a difference," Harry replied. "War has started. We are just insignificant pawns now. Never has a war been stopped by any one person. It takes whole groups of people, of countries, to stop this."
"We can try," was Hermione's forceful reply.
"We will," Harry sighed, "but we will fail. Just wanted to give you a heads-up."
"Ridiculous," Hermione continued on. "As long as we make an attempt, we can do it. We've got you, too."
Harry's demeanor changed. He looked at her more intently. "What is it about me that makes you think I can be of more help?"
Hermione looked at him in confusion. "Come again?"
"What is it about me that makes you think I can do what others can't?" Harry asked, watching her carefully.
"You're a natural born leader," Hermione replied. "You might not think so, but others look up to you. If you're committed, so are they."
"I know that," Harry waved aside. "We're well aware of the general public's bonker views. One minute I'm the saviour, the next a loon criminal. I asked what is it about me that makes you think I can do more?"
Hermione's frown deepened into annoyance, "I've seen you condemned by almost every single person in England, yet you are the first to put all on the line to protect them."
"I don't believe in the 'Great Persons' school of thought," Harry waved aside. "I was at the right place at the right moment. If anyone else was where I was, the same would've happened."
Hermione's reply was almost snarl, "Rubbish! You think you were the only one who knew a troll was rampaging about in our first year and had the option to go help someone else or save yourself? Were you the only one aware of muggle-born attacks in our second year and could decide to look for the perpatrator? On and on, there have been countless people in your position. A few have attempted, but only you have risked more. Even as a child, you were willing to do more than adults."
"And what have I gained?" Harry snapped. He stood up and paced about the room. "I'm in my mid-twenties, without memory. Even if I had any, it'd be useless. As far as I can tell, I have few friends, no significant other. I'm a recluse in all intents and purposes. I was willing to risk death to help others, and I've ended up sacrificing my life. And it isn't that easy, no..." he said in mock humour, yelling the angry snarl never left his voice. What made Hermione concerned was even though he was angry, Harry's voice never raised or lowered, remaining a steady pitch as he continued unabated, almost as if he were unaware of her presence.
"No, I have to live in this fuck-job one could call a life only in jest," he paused. "Haven't you noticed since my memory wipe, you have had nothing to tell me? No girlfriends, no interesting stories. Just I taught, never got back with Ginny etc... Meaningless nonsense. I'm sick of this."
Hermione remained silent, allowing him to continue on.
"I have two choices. One, continue getting scarred and sacrificing everything I could have for others who won't appreciate it or get off their chairs to help out, or two head out and get my own life. Why should others be more important to me? I don't see others giving me half that courtesy."
"What about me?" Hermione snarled. "And Ron? We've stood by you. We've sacrificed. The Order members who all died sacrificed."
"You don't get it," Harry said. "I have nothing to sacrifice. I never did. Now I understand why I didn't want to fight. I admit it puzzled me before. But I see it clearly now. Once again, more is asked of me. How many more years should I have to give up? If I die in this fight, what I have I lived that makes dying worth it?"
Hermione decided right then and there that being understanding wasn't helping, and tried a different method.
"Look, we can waste our time with your misery," she said, attempting to keep her voice as level-headed as she could make it seem. "But we both now you're not going to walk out and abandon the wizarding world. As we dilly-dally, more people will die, which'll only increase the guilt you'll feel in the end. You have to lead, and the rest of us will follow."
That clearly didn't work, as Hermione was just about to realise. Harry seemed to want to persist in this for a bit more.
"How about you lead this time, and I follow?" he asked. "Then when you suffer, I can tell you patronising shit that it's not your fault, and you did the right thing?"
"Stop making yourself a martyr," Hermione said. "You know you're going to fight. Let's end this, and we'll continue on in our lives."
"And when he next Dark Wanker comes?" Harry asked. "It's inevitable."
"Tell you what," Hermione offered. "Let's save the wizarding world from ultimate destruction, and we'll leave all Dark Lords, deranged psychopaths and otherwise social misfits to the wizarding world to deal with for the next twenty years. How does that sound?"
"Splendid," Harry said, the ghost of a smile appearing for the first time. His shoulders then sagged. "I'm going to hold you to it."
"I wouldn't expect any less," she said, flashing a wide smile. "And you do have people to sacrifice. You have Ron. You have me."
"I don't have you," Harry said quietly."Not as I would want you."
For the first time in the conversation, Hermione had a loss of words. She first considered his words in confusion, but when she quickly understood the emotion behind his voice, she blushed. With great struggle, she removed emotion from her face, though a slight red stayed on her cheeks, not to mention her breath quickening.
"I... I..." she stammered. She took a deep breath. "I thought it was something small. How long?"
"Years, apparently, as a hidden Pensieve told me," Harry replied. He had went back to the couch and sat on it, and he was hunched over with his face staring at the ground. She couldn't get a glance on his face. "I didn't understand the feelings I had for you, but the memories in the Pensieve explained it."
"And the memory swipe didn't remove the feelings?" Hermione mumbled. "Interesting."
"Like I said, I don't have you." Harry remarked. He raised his head to look at her eyes, his having a hope in it. "Will I? Can I?"
"It's all of a sudden," she replied, unsure what to say. "I don't know how I feel."
"I'm like a brother, right?" Harry looked back at the ground. "Don't delay what you're about to say."
"I wasn't going to say that," Hermione huffed. "I never saw you as a brother. It's just that now's not the time."
"When, then?"
"Let's get through the war before we go through this," she suggested.
"Why not?" Harry asked angrily. "Who knows how long this war will go on, or if we even win?"
"We don't need the distractions," she replied, her anger coming back as well.
"I do," Harry disagreed. "For once, I need something to fight for. Which is mine, which I belong to."
"See?" Hermione raised her hands. "It's already altered your ability to think rationally."
"It's true," Harry said. "It's clear you don't have any interest in me. Just say so. I'm a grown man who can take rejection. In fact, that's all I know. If you accepted me, that would take some time to get the hang of. Don't string me along."
"Don't try to play the victim," Hermione snarled, her fury barely kept back, like Harry's. "If I had no interest, I'd tell you. Don't you dare even think I'd treat you in such a manner to string you along."
Harry got up and walked towards her. "No you wouldn't," he said, "unless you thought you needed me sane during the course of the war. Can't have the Boy-Who-Lived rejected. Britain would fall apart."
Hermione staggered back, as if she were slapped. "How dare..." she could barely get her words out, too strong was her fury. "Fuck you!"
"I can't get you to do that!" Harry spat back. "Can't you see my dilemma?"
She slapped him and stormed off. The door's slam came quickly after.
Harry stood there, his hand on the part of the face still stinging. He knew he should feel regret, feel something. But at that moment, he felt drained.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Hermione knocked on Harry's door in the morning, making sure to give only three polite raps on the wood. She smoothed down her skirt, nervous about what to do. But there were things that had to be done. The war wouldn't pause for two angry friends. She made sure she looked respectable, to look as if last night hadn't happened. She shuddered on what the room would look like. She went back on the words she prepared in the night, to convince Harry that they needed to hold back all discussion for the good of the war. He could've sobered up from his fury to accept it, but Hermione wasn't hopeful.
"Come in," a voice called from within.
She opened the door and slowly went in. She stopped, surprised in finding the room looking perfect, despite knowing that the house-elves didn't show up from cleaning for another couple of hours (or so she heard from Malfoy). In front of her was a massive circular table, one she hadn't seen since Harry led the Order in the Second Voldemort War. The table was filled with maps, plans and magical objects. Harry was seated in the lone chair, looking hard at a diagram, while tapping his wand at a small bronze coloured metal object, which looked a bit like an upside-down pendulum. Without looking up at her, he raised his wand, and with a wave, a chair appeared at the table, across from Harry.
"Do sit," he offered, still not looking up. She obeyed, wondering if things were going to be awkward.
Seemingly, Harry had no such problems. He looked up to her, and levitating some scrolls to her. She grabbed them in mid-air and looked at them, realising they were maps.
"Whare do they lead?" she asked.
Harry kept working with his papers as he replied, "The Cave of Oblivion."
"We can use it?" she queried.
"Not yet," he replied. "But if the Queen won't let us use it, an act of betrayal by the muggles will. As the monarch is reluctant to act to stop the muggle, for good reason, if the muggle action reaches a point vastly disproportionate to what we've done to them, we could use the Cave with no need for permission."
"That's not a plan," Hermione frowned. "Disproportionate could mean anything. Should we wait for genocide?"
"No," Harry shook his head, raising to look at her for the first time that morning. He paused for a moment, and went on. "We were always a minority, and no Norman wizard would let a magical brethren be under that much control. No, an large-scale attack would be enough."
"What's left to attack?" Hermione asked, before quickly getting the answer. It must have shown on her face as Harry's face turned grim.
"Only one place left in Britain," he confirmed.
"How will we know when we can do it?" she asked.
"We'll all know," Harry replied. "Every witch and wizard."
"How?"
"Magic," he shrugged. "I don't know. It's never happened. But when it happens, we'll know."
"When?"
"From the looks of it, it seems inevitable," Harry shrugged again. "There is one catch, though."
"It had to be harder, didn't it?" Hermione asked.
"The spell to be used isn't difficult, but it's sacrificial magic," Harry explained.
Hermione didn't like this one bit. "What has to be given up?"
"The caster will have to give up his magic," Harry said emotionessly.
"All of it?"
"All of it."
"Why the hell did they come up with that?" Hermione asked in fury. "Weren't the conditions harsh enough?"
"Our fault for losing," Harry said. "It ensured that we had a cause to fight for. Otherwise, I don't see anyone willing to give up the magic. No Dark Lord would be able to use it either, as coercion wouldn't work. It has to be given up willingly."
The room decended into silence. They looked through the papers for awhile, until Hermione couldn't resist not asking the obvious question.
"So, who'd cast the spell?"
"I will," Harry answered.
"Why you?" she asked, looking at him in shock.
"I just offered."
"Let's offer it to others," she suggested. "Including myself."
"Very few will accept losing their magic, Hermione," Harry said. "You know this."
"Let's ask those who'd give it a thought," Hermione persisted.
"It' s too much to ask of them," Harry argued. Seeing that she wasn't willing to back down, he said, "It's decided, Hermione,"
"But we didn't discuss who'd do it," Hermion replied, just as forcefully.
"You asked which of us would be willing," he said, "and I volunteered."
"But..." Hermione started, but got interrupted by Harry.
"But nothing," he said. "You did the same thing in the Sheffield excursion against Voldemort."
"Let's at least hear Ron's opinion. He'd want that." Hermione said.
"There's no reason to drag Ron into this," he said. "And you know it. He's lost family members, and such a discussion will just confuse things."
"But your life will change, Harry," Hermione said.
Harry sighed deeply. "I know, 'Mione," he said. "But one of us had to."
"I'm coming with you," she said.
"No."
"You're going to need me afterwards, and you know it," she hissed. "If I don't come, I'll never forgive you."
Seeing the anxious state she was in, Harry's eyes softened, and he accepted.
"I'm sorry Hermione," he whispered. "I could never ask this of you."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Interesting night and morning," was all Ginny could say after that.
"Indeed," Hermione said.
"So what's this thing about Harry?" Ginny asked.
"There's nothing," Hermione replied.
"I'm a female," Ginny smiled. "Unlike Harry. You never said you were not interested."
"No I didn't," said Hermione. "But I'm not interested during a war."
"Please," Ginny dismissed with a wave of her hand. "You were with Ron when we fought against Voldemort. Not being with someone during a war is Harry's method, not yours. What's really going on?"
"You remember the fights with Ron," Hermione said. "I have no interest risking another friendship."
"Why didn't you just tell him that?" Ginny asked.
"Well, he's been in a very bad situation," Hermione replied. "He really feels lost and has far bigger problems to deal with."
Ginny frowned. "You wouldn't lie to Harry," she said. "I know that. And you know that would be a lie. So you must be misleading right now."
"No, not at all," Hermione assured Ginny, but her eyes weren't helping her claims.
"Now, you admit that you would attempt a different relationship with him, but the friend thing is a stumbling block," Ginny said, thinking out loud. "You don't tell him that, instead promising to consider things after the war. Why?"
"You're over-reaching your conclusions," Hermione argued.
"I haven't concluded anything yet," Ginny said with a smirk, noting Hermione's discomfort. "Perhaps you're not lying. You're not sure, are you?"
"About?"
"About Harry, that's what," Ginny said. "You think it's a possibility, but at the same time are concerned with risking things. Thus, you give a vague reply."
"Look," Hermione said. "I don't know what or where things are. Harry's quite an attractive bloke, but now's not the time to risk things. Let's drop this. Please?"
"So, who're we meeting?" asked Ginny.
"Some person who worked in the Ministry," explained Hermione.
"Oh?" Ginny said.
They waited for awhile, continuing on with small talk, reminiscing. Hermione then looked up. Ginny looked at that direction.
"You brought an Unspeakable?" she asked.
"How did you know that?" Hermione asked, puzzled. She only found out a couple of days previously.
"Oh, someone told me," Ginny replied quickly.
A young man, slightly under 30 it looked, reached the table. He had a simple presence, not noticeable in a crowd.
"Mr. Sinclair," Hermione said, offering the man a chair. "Thanks so much for showing up."
"No problem. I admit I'm interested," he replied. "Do call me Thomas." Upon seeing Ginny, "Weasley, are you the reason Miss Granger knows I'm an Unspeakable?"
"No," Ginny said firmly, looking hard at him, shaking her head.
"Someone else told me," Hermione said. "How would Ginny know? Oh, don't tell me..."
"Come on, sir!" Ginny scowled. "What did you say about assumptions?"
"Sorry, Ginny," Thomas smiled. "Oh well, there's no Ministry to make us regret it."
"I never would've guessed," Hermione said in wonderment. "What's it like?"
Ginny opened her mouth, but upon seeing her superior, she simply said, "Classified." But the twinkle in her eye gave away that she was going to reveal more when Hermione and her were alone. Thomas chose to ignore it.
"There is someone else who I asked to join us," Thomas said. "He should have his own information. I told him to meet me a few minutes ago, but he's late... Ah, there he is."
Hermione saw a young man approach them, with shoulder length black hair. She didn't remember ever seeing him before. Probably another Unspeakable. Her assumption was apparently confirmed when Ginny's eyes exhibited recognition, but was destroyed when she opened her mouth.
"Peter Wayne?" she asked.
A/N: Sorry about the very late update. I had to figure out the rest of the story before proceeding. This should be the final phase of the story. Unfortunately, or fortunately, it'll be mostly action/adventure after this chapter.