Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

I could say this chapter took me a long time to write, but that would be a pretty disgusting lie. Once I had the idea, it took about five hours. That's probably an exaggeration, actually. But I'm not even going to explain myself, because I've come to that awful place where it doesn't matter. There's way too much going on right now for me to let myself worry about updating all the time. But all of you selfish readers out there can relax. And you can stop sending me emails, too, because we both know I just send nasty replies. I'm not quitting this story.

For Ashleigh, my favourite person ever, who died without waking on the twenty-third. And for Eddie, who died late Wednesday night. Rest in peace.

Chapter Forty: Complications
……………………………………………………………

It was raining, of course, and Hermione fretted for ten minutes, wondering aloud why she hadn't thought to bring an umbrella.

'A little rain never hurt anyone,' Ron said, though it didn't look like Ron at all. He now had a smaller nose, black hair, and no freckles in sight. Harry marvelled at the change, saying he looked like a complete git, and, subsequently, about a thousand times better than usual. Hermione smacked his arm (or what she thought was his arm, given that he was under the Invisibility Cloak) and insisted that she liked him exactly the way he was, and that Harry was merely joking.

'I'm sure a little rain has never done anyone any harm,' Hermione agreed. 'But this is a lot of rain. And I don't think all of the straightening spells I applied to my hair will hold if this keeps up.'

She quickened her pace a bit, forcing the other two to speed up.

'How many rooms are we getting?' asked Harry. He didn't think Hermione would much enjoy having to share a room with the two of them. Or, he didn't think he'd enjoy having to bunk in with them.

'That's directly dependent on how many we can afford,' answered Hermione. She paused and looked around. 'Do you really know where we're going?'

'Sure I do,' said Ron. When Hermione nodded and resumed walked, he looked in Harry's direction and shrugged, as if to say, I don't have a bloody clue in hell where we are.

Harry smiled to himself under the Cloak. His friend really was a piece of work.

'That looks like a hotel over there,' Hermione said, pointing to a place Harry couldn't quite see, due to his poor vision.

'See?' said Ron. 'I told you I knew where we were going.'

Hermione rolled her eyes and squealed when Ron jumped in a puddle, spraying her with water.

'Ron,' she scolded.

Ron smiled innocently. 'C'mon,' he said. 'Stop making a scene. We aren't supposed to draw unwanted attention, remember?' he asked, repeating the words she'd used when lecturing him earlier.

'Honestly,' she said, shaking her head at him. 'Harry and I should have left you back at The Burrow.'

'Did you hear that one, mate?' said Harry. 'I think your girl's making a pass at me. Keep a close eye, or she might try to leave you and take up with me.'

'Nah,' Ron disagreed. 'Why would she want to trade down like that?'

Harry shoved him lightly and Ron took a pretend swing, earning him several strange looks from the Muggles who thought he was punching air, rather than an invisible Harry.

'Okay,' Hermione said strictly, sounding much like a mother speaking to an over-active child. They stopped outside the front entrance to a small Muggle building that Harry assumed was a slightly run-down hotel. 'Ron, just stand there, and try not to look too amazed by every little Muggle contraption you see. Don't speak unless directly spoken to.'

'Why not?' he asked, and honestly, Harry thought he was only asking this to drive Hermione mad.

'Because you'll give us away!' she hissed. 'Just remember – under no circumstances are you to do anything other than what we've already agreed on.'

'Yeah, yeah,' said Ron tiredly. 'I heard you the first four times.'

Hermione appeared to be restraining herself (though not without a great deal of effort) from wringing his neck.

'Let's go,' Harry said. Holding the Cloak very tightly around himself – for it wouldn't do well for him to lose hold of it and randomly appear in the middle of a room full of Muggles – he followed Ron and Hermione through the doors.

A petite woman with a too-pleasant-to-be-genuine smile plastered on her face regarded Ron and Hermione from her place behind the front desk. Her nametag caught one of the florescent lights hanging above her and sparkled, reminding Harry greatly of Percy and his polished Head Boy badge.

'Good morning,' the woman – Kate – said. 'What can I do for you this morning?'

'Hello,' said Hermione, in a voice far more upbeat than one she ever used when speaking to either Harry or Ron. 'We'd like to rent a room.' She clasped Ron's hands and added, for good measure, 'We're on our honeymoon. We first thought to go somewhere like Italy, but then –'

Harry wondered if Hermione realized that only liars gave away heaps and heaps of useless information. The way she was rambling on, he seriously doubted it.

'Do you have a reservation?' Kate cut in.

Harry watched as Hermione's smile fell. 'Um, no, actually,' she said lamely.

Harry could tell that Kate was rather puzzled. 'You didn't think to make a reservation?'

'I – um –'

'We eloped,' said Ron, jumping in and doing exactly what Hermione had instructed him not to do. 'Decided that a big, extravagant wedding wasn't our style.'

Hermione took a moment to process what he'd said. 'Right. Exactly. We're not very fancy people,' she said.

Obviously, Harry thought, looking at the cracking wall behind Kate's head, and then down to the unusual stain on the floor just to the right of his feet. Why else would anyone want to stay here for their honeymoon?

Kate's smile returned full-force. 'That's wonderful,' she said. 'Congratulations. Give me a moment, and I'll go see what I can do.'

'Wonderful,' said Hermione, who appeared to regain her bearings.

'I just remembered something,' Ron said quietly, after Kate had left her post and disappeared into the back room.

'What's that?' asked Hermione.

'You,' he said, speaking in hushed tones, 'are a terrible liar.'

Hermione frowned, but didn't bother trying to deny it.

Kate returned, her fake smile still stuck on her face. 'I'm very sorry,' she said, 'but it seems that we're all filled up for tonight.'

Harry wondered if this was true – how many people could possibly want to stay here at one single point in time? Then again, judging by the apparent size of the building from the outside, he didn't think there were very many available rooms to begin with.

'Oh, dear,' said Hermione. The trio had not planned on this in the least.

Biting his lip, Harry waved his hand under the Cloak.

The telephone began to ring, causing Ron to jump slightly and look around wildly. Hermione elbowed him in the side and glared at him.

Kate smiled apologetically at Ron and Hermione, then turned away from them and answered the phone, using a greeting with which she sounded horribly practiced.

Ron and Hermione exchanged confused looks, and Harry wondered how long it would take before they realized that he'd had a hand in this sudden phone call.

'You're in luck,' Kate said brightly after hanging up the phone and turning back to them. 'One of our guests just called and cancelled their reservations. We've got a room available, though it isn't the deluxe suite we usually have to offer couples on their honeymoon. If you had phoned ahead …'

'We'll take it,' Hermione said quickly. 'How much?'

'It's fifty-three pounds a night,' replied Kate. She turned to her computer and began typing away. 'How many nights will you be staying? The cancelled reservation was for three days, so that's really all I can offer you at this time … unless something else turns up …'

They exchanged looks. 'Er,' said Ron. 'Three days sounds all right.'

'Excellent. You'll be paying at the end of your stay, so all I need is your name and –'

'Fisher,' said Hermione. 'Parker and Charlotte.'

Apparently, Parker and Charlotte Fisher were a couple who had once lived a few blocks over from Hermione when she was younger.

Kate nodded robotically and put this into the computer. She then looked up, stared at them for a moment, and got a funny expression on her face.

The jig is up, Harry thought instantly.

She leaned over the counter and raised her eyebrows. 'Haven't you any luggage?'

'We thought we'd just buy whatever we needed,' said Ron after a moment. It was probably too long of a pause, but if Kate thought this, she didn't let on. 'I never pack the right stuff, anyway.'

In truth, Hermione was carrying a purse holding all of their shrunken possessions.

'It's awful, really,' added Hermione. 'You wouldn't believe what he considers necessities. Ridiculous.'

'There's a shopping mall just down the way,' said Kate. 'Since check-in isn't until noon, perhaps you could busy yourselves there, if you're not familiar enough with the area to go out.'

Hermione nodded. 'Great. We've got a few things in particular I suppose we'll need to get while we're here.'

'Well,' said Kate. 'I hope you find everything you're looking for here in London.'

Hermione smiled tightly. 'Yes, I'm quite sure we will.'

……………………………………………………………

Ginny knew, by the sound of her mum's screams, that the note had been found.

'EVERYONE,' yelled Mrs Weasley. 'Downstairs NOW! They're gone!'

Sighing, and preparing herself for one hell of a morning, Ginny pulled on some clothes and made her way downstairs. It wasn't as if she'd been sleeping, anyway. How could she possibly sleep? She'd spent the past three hours sitting in the middle of her room, in pitch blackness, doing nothing but leaving her mind wide open, just incase Harry wanted to make an appearance.

He hadn't.

She didn't dare let herself wonder what horrible thing could have happened that would prevent him from communicating with her.

That bloody git was probably alive and well and living it up with Ron and Hermione. Wanker.

The first thought Ginny had upon seeing her mum was she looks terrible.

And it was true. Never, not ever, had Mrs Weasley looked as old as she did in this moment. Ginny felt a pang of guilt. They all put her through so much. And it really wasn't going to end anytime soon, was it? She was forced to wonder, though not for the first time, just how much pain and grief Ginny and her brothers would cause their mother during this war, whether directly or indirectly.

'Ginny,' sobbed her mum, 'Ron is gone! And so are Harry and Hermione.'

'Yeah,' said Ginny calmly, though not one inch of her felt anything less than completely panicked when Harry was mentioned. She didn't need a reminder that he wasn't safe at home. She knew bloody well enough that he was in as much danger now as he'd ever been in before. 'I know.'

It was amazing, truly amazing, how fast her mum could switch from hysterical to furious.

'You KNOW?'

'Ginny –' Charlie began. She noticed for the first time since coming down into the kitchen that he and Bill were also present.

'Where are they?'

'I don't know,' said Ginny, and bugger, when did she become a worse liar than bloody Hermione?

'It sure sounds like you do,' said Bill.

'Fine,' Ginny corrected. She looked at her brothers, refusing to let herself glance back over at her mum. If she had to see the tortured look her mum's face held for another second … she'd spill everything. 'I do know. But I'm not telling.'

'You most certainly are,' her mum snapped. 'Tell me where my son has gone!'

'I can't,' Ginny said resolutely. Harry had warned her that her mum would try to exercise any possible authority she could muster, and that if it came down to it, she would resort to mercilessly bullying Ginny into telling the truth.

Ginny thought she'd prepared herself for any possible confrontation. After all, she'd always been brilliant when dealing with confrontation. She had to be. She was a Weasley. How else would she survive in her own house if she couldn't go head-to-head with the best of them?

'This is not the time for games, Ginevra.'

'I know that,' said Ginny. 'Mum. Listen. They're gone, and there's nothing any of us can do now. You think that if I had a say, I'd be hanging around here? Hell no! I'd have gone –'

'Ginevra. Do not stand here and tell me that you would have gone with those three.'

Ginny shrugged. 'All right, then. I'll lie – I have no ambition to ever join this fight. I'm well aware that there's a huge war going on out there, but I have absolutely no intention of getting involved. So what if my whole family's going to be putting their arses on the line? And Harry – goodness, no, I couldn't care less about his role in this. I'm really just happy to sit in the shadows and twiddle my thumbs like a good little girl. Lock me up and come collect me when the big, bad men are all gone, would you?'

Her mum slapped her across the face then, and her brothers gaped. Molly Weasley had never hesitated when it came to yelling and screaming and punishing her children, but she had never raised a hand at any of them. No matter what they'd done.

But Ginny was unfazed. 'I'm joining this fight, Mum,' she said. 'I'm doing it whether you like it or not. I'm not a little girl anymore. You can't make all my decisions anymore. You don't get to call the shots and just expect me to –'

'Then who does call the shots, Ginny?' interrupted Charlie. 'It's clearly not you. You said yourself that if you had a say in it, you'd have left with the others. Who's in charge, then? Harry? He's the boss of you now, is he?'

'That's enough,' yelled Ginny. 'What is your fucking problem?'

Her mum didn't even scold her for her filthy language. Or perhaps she did. But Ginny did not hear her either way.

'I'm just saying,' said Charlie calmly. The fact that he was trying to keep his temper in check – so he could come off as being the bigger person – made her blood boil even more. 'It seems to me that Harry's starting to show his true colours. That one has you trained awfully well, yeah?'

Charlie said this very matter-of-factly, and in that moment, Ginny hated him. And not a little bit, either. She hated him very much – so much, in fact, that for a split-second, she wished him to go away and never return. She hated his smug face, his over-protectiveness, his utter inability to realize and accept that although he had never felt all the feelings Ginny experienced with Harry, those feelings were real.

She didn't even realize that she'd drawn her wand, nor did she realize that she was now holding it out and training it on her brother's neck.

'Ginny,' cried Mrs Weasley. Ginny ignored her mum.

'Just because you show your face around here on holidays and share the same blood as me doesn't mean you know me, or get any kind of say in how I live my life,' snapped Ginny. This was ridiculous. She didn't know what Charlie's problem was, but she decided that he was going to get over it very soon, or there would be hell to pay. 'You don't like Harry, even though he's never done anything to you. He's never done anything to anyone. He didn't ask for this responsibility. This burden. And who the hell are you to judge him? If you think I'm going to stand here and let you talk about him like that … like he's Malfoy … think again. I love him. Just because nobody has ever loved you that way doesn't mean –'

'Ginny.'

Charlie stared at her, and at her wand, too surprised to say anything. Ginny was vaguely aware that she had made her point, that she should stop now before she hurt her brother's feelings any more than she already had, but she couldn't stop. The words were coming out and there was no holding them back now. She didn't want to hold them back. She wanted him to feel bad, to realize that although he fancied himself a saint, he was merely a sad, pathetic man. Did he even know how poorly he treated the boy she loved? Did he care?

How could he say those things about Harry? How dare he?

'You might think Harry's a bad person, but he is twice the man you'll ever be. So what does that say about you?'

Ginny turned on her heel and went to storm out of the room. But then she reconsidered it, and realized that if she was already going to suffer the consequences of this later, she might as well get everything off her chest.

'You all treat me like an infant, and so it isn't any wonder you don't trust me enough to take an active role in this war. But I'm not a child, I'm sixteen. I'm just as old as Ron was when he was fighting in the Department of Mysteries. I'm way older than Harry was when he battled Voldemort after the Triwizard Tournament. Yet somehow everyone seems to overlook those facts.' She paused. 'Ever been possessed by Voldemort's teenage self and been forced to do awful things? Or been tortured with round after round of the Cruciatus Curse? Between the Chamber of Secrets and what happened at the wedding this summer, I think it's safe to say that I've gone through more mentally – perhaps even physically – than anyone else in this room, and I've survived. Why does nobody see that?'

'We're just being –'

'Selfish,' said Ginny. 'You're all just being selfish. You all know I can handle anything that's thrown at me, but you're too scared to let me try. Mum doesn't want to lose her baby girl. And all of you boys like to pretend I'm some sort of damsel in distress. You're keeping me out of this war and it's selfish, because maybe my role in this could help make the difference between a loss and a victory. And if we lose, what then? Little Ginny will be safe, but for how long? Harry is the only one who can beat Voldemort, and he needs love. My love.'

Mrs Weasley opened her mouth to speak, but Ginny decided that she wasn't finished yet.

'If they want to get to Harry, and they do, I am one of the first – if not the very first –on Voldemort's hit list. Did you know that?'

'No, you –'

'It's not as if those Death Eaters invaded the wedding for fun. And it's not as if they wanted Hermione but grabbed me by mistake. That entire thing was orchestrated so Voldemort could capture me. Me. I'm not asking you to be happy that I'm fighting, but I am asking that you respect me enough to realize that I want to protect myself and Harry.'

That last sentence said it all, didn't it? She didn't want to fight to protect her family or her friends. Just Harry. It was all about Harry. Of course her family wouldn't understand that, but it was how she felt. He was it for her. His fate would decide hers. She was certain that she would survive this war, and that he would as well. But if he didn't, if every negative thing he said came true, she knew without a doubt that she would go with him. She didn't want to be somewhere if he wasn't there at her side.

Was it even possible for a person to feel as strongly as she did? Sometimes, it was a wonder that she didn't burst inside from everything she felt for him.

She stopped just inside the doorway and turned to address her mother.

'Those three are gone,' she said. 'I know where they are, and I know what they're doing, yes, but you won't ever get it out of me. If you need to call an Order meeting to try and find them, then you do what you have to do, Mum. But know that I'm every ounce as determined and stubborn as you are, and I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure you don't figure out what they're up to until they're back home and telling you themselves.'

……………………………………………………………

Mum,

We're sorry about this. Really, believe it or not, we understand how crazy this is going to make you. But we need to do this. And we can't tell you what "this" is, either. Please don't come after us. You won't find us, but if you do, it'll be disaster for both us and you. Stay home, stay safe, and try to remember that we WILL be home … eventually.

Love,

Ron, Hermione and Harry.

P.S. – We love you, and we'll be back soon, and I promise we'll have all of our limbs still attached.

Underneath it, words that had been scratched out with several long slashes of a quill, but which were still rather legible, read:

Or at the very least, we'll have them in our hands and you can attach them for us.

As she re-read these words for what must have been the millionth time since discovering the note that morning, Molly Weasley closed her eyes at the thought of her son being severely injured, perhaps even dying. Was this honestly happening? How could Ron even think to leave? Didn't he understand the danger involved?

Of course he understands, a tiny voice in her mind said. That's what he loves most about all of this.

It seemed ridiculous, and yet it was so true that it caused Molly's body to shake with the force of her sobs.

Ronnie. Please, not one of her babies.

Why was it that she loved her sons – and Ginny – so much, and yet it couldn't be enough to keep them safe? Why couldn't she do what mothers were supposed to do and make sure her children were happy and healthy and, above all, alive?

Gone were the days that she would tuck them in at night, plant a kiss on their forehead, shut the door, and know that they would be in that exact place when she came back into their rooms to wake them in the morning.

Now, the twins were moved out. Bill and Charlie were far away. Up until very recently, the distance with Percy had been emotional as well as physical.

She thought it would be different with Ron, her final boy. He had always tried to keep up with his brothers, and had always admired Bill and Charlie very much, but he'd always been such a sweetheart and she'd always thought that he'd want to stay at home for at least a little while longer than her other sons. The year before he'd gone off to Hogwarts, she'd looked out the kitchen window and watched him playing on Charlie's broom.

She'd known that he would leave her to go away to school, but he would return home with stories and smiles, and would it be too much to hope that he'd have top marks?

No, she didn't care if he got top marks. She wouldn't expect him to be Head Boy like Percy and Bill. And she wouldn't expect him to be a Quidditch star like Charlie. Or have a sharp sense of humour, like Fred and George. Her Ronnie would be his own person, and no matter what that person was like, she would love him just as much as she loved her other children – unconditionally.

And then there was Ginny. Even at the earliest of ages, it had been clear that Ginny was going to be something else. A strong and perhaps selfish Weasley personality, but with a heart good enough to balance her out at even the worst of times. Molly thought that she would never have to worry about her daughter, who surely would not play that ridiculous sport on those unsafe brooms like her sons insisted on doing. Her daughter would never get into any sort of trouble in school, or do anything particularly daring. She would be beautiful, but she would never do anything inappropriate. She would be passive and would never challenge Molly in any way. She would not talk back. And she would certainly rather read about Harry Potter in Witch Weekly than fight and roughhouse with the boys.

As it turned out, Molly had been wrong about both of her children.

Ron was not anything like one of his brothers because he had a little bit of them all inside him. He was funny and helpful and good at Quidditch and a Prefect. He was rather bright, though she wasn't horribly sure he thought so himself. He was as loyal as any Gryffindor she'd ever known, not only to his family but to his friends, and although she'd nearly died herself when she thought she'd lost Ron, she loved him all that much more for the way he'd selflessly jumped in front of his sister and saved her.

And Ginny, too, was nothing like Molly had expected her to be. Her personality was strong, and she was as stubborn as the best of them. But Ginny was just as competitive and talented at Quidditch as any of her other children (except Percy, of course), and she had been known to get a detention or two in her years at Hogwarts. She was beautiful – and not just through her mother's eyes – and though she handled it gracefully, Molly knew that like any other teenager that age, Ginny had done her share of misbehaving with boys. (Or boy, singular. Harry Potter wasn't in an article in the magazine in Ginny's bedroom. Harry Potter was, quite simply, in Ginny's bedroom.)

She was loud and perhaps even more aggressive than her brothers. She was incredibly daring. She went along with Ron to the Department of Mysteries in her fourth year, and fought at Hogwarts in her fifth year. And now, as she had reminded Molly a few minutes earlier, Ginny was playing an even more dangerous game.

Molly put her head in her hands. Ron and Ginny were her youngest babies. They were supposed to be safe and free from the threat of Voldemort, who had been vanquished before either of them could speak. They weren't supposed to be the ones fighting to get rid of Voldemort once and for all, even if that meant sacrificing themselves in the process. She just couldn't do it. She couldn't lose one of her children.

'They're good kids, Molly,' her husband assured her. He'd come home from work as soon as her owl had reached him. 'Harry would never let anything happen to Ron. And Hermione will be logical and keep him safe.'

Perhaps Ron would come home to her. But at what price? Would the other two have to make the ultimate sacrifice? That wouldn't do.

There was a reason, after all, why Harry and Hermione were also on Molly Weasley's clock.

……………………………………………………………

'Okay,' Harry said. He was under his Invisibility Cloak, walking beside Ron and Hermione, who were both wearing Muggle disguises. 'What does the map say?'

'We should be coming up to it,' Hermione said. Her nose was buried in the map as they walked. They trudged along for a minute more, and then Hermione stopped. 'Here. It should be right here.'

'What the bloody hell?' exclaimed Ron.

'Oh, my …' said Hermione, looking up.

'You're fucking kidding me,' muttered Harry.

'Have we got the wrong location?' said Ron.

'No,' Hermione answered. 'This is … exactly where the orphanage used to be.'

Harry looked around and saw that the surrounding London street was much the same as it had been in the Pensieve memories. Some of the buildings on the strip appeared to be refurbished, and he suspected that the road itself had been paved one or twice, but it was undoubtedly the same area.

'Bugger,' said Ron. 'There's – there's an entire building here.'

'What d'you think it is?' asked Harry, gesturing toward the structure, which seemed to be mocking them.

His eyes ran over the electric fences, high concrete walls, and no trespassing signs. It was suddenly very clear that they would be in for an uphill battle. What were they going to do? He had expected it to be difficult to get the Horcrux, but he'd envisioned a different kind of challenge altogether. This wasn't going to be about getting past traps and jinxes; this was about getting past other people, people who would surely not be incredibly anxious to let three strangers into their obviously private building for a quick look-around.

'It looks like some sort of government building,' Hermione said. 'Or a military base. But what would either of those be doing here …?' She shook her head. 'I don't understand it. Oh! Look.' She pointed to the side of the building, past the fence. 'Guards. Muggles.'

'There are ways around them,' said Ron, holding out his wand.

'No,' said Harry. 'We can't do anything that'll draw attention. The only way is to take out the guards, and we can't risk getting spotted or caught, or worse, disarmed.'

'As if those Muggles could disarm us,' said Ron proudly. 'We've got wands.'

'And they've got guns,' Hermione replied. 'You don't want to go up against those. Trust me, you wouldn't win. None of us would. And besides, we are not using magic.'

Ron sighed heavily. 'Is it possible that this is just a museum or something, and the guards are only here to make sure nobody steals or breaks in?'

'This doesn't look like a horribly inviting museum,' said Hermione. 'Why have electric fences? No … this is something else entirely. I … I think there's more than meets the eye. Something doesn't feel right.'

'That's not our concern,' said Harry. 'We don't have any business with what's in there. We just need the Horcrux.'

'Excuse me,' Hermione said to a passing woman.

'Yes?'

'Could you tell me what that building is?' she asked, pointing to the unknown structure.

The woman looked puzzled for a moment. 'Um, I'm sorry?'

'There,' said Ron, extending his own arm and gesturing.

'I … I'm afraid I don't see anything,' the stranger said, and to her credit, the look she gave the pair was only one of mild trepidation.

Ron and Hermione exchanged a look. 'Oh, no,' said Ron. 'We meant … can you tell us what that building was? There used to be a building there before, right? Or are we just misinformed tourists?'

The stranger smiled. 'No. Of course. Um … actually, I'm not horribly sure … I think it used to be an orphanage a long time ago … but it was like this when I was little. Empty.'

Hermione nodded. 'Lovely. Thank you.'

The woman smiled and then continued on her way. 'Okay,' said Harry. 'Whatever this building is, it's definitely a magical one, and the Muggle elements are just in place to make wizards who look at it think it's Muggle and that everyone can see it.'

'So what do we do now?'

Bringing herself up onto her toes, Hermione put one hand on Ron's shoulder to steady herself. 'There,' she said. 'That truck.'

'What about it?' asked Harry, squinting. He could only just make out an unmarked truck pulling around to the back of the building.

'I think we just found our way in,' she said.

'How're we going to –?'

'Shh,' said Hermione. 'I've got an idea. If we're lucky … it just might work.'

'Just might work?' said Ron. 'I don't think that sounds too promising.'

'C'mon,' said Hermione. 'We need to get back to the room.'

……………………………………………………………