A/N: Here we are, Lovelies, another plot installment to clear up that nasty cliffhanger that most of you are refusing to comment on.

FYI: Turbella is Latin for group. Silencio Turbella is a group silencing spell. My Latin is so bad as to be non-existent, so if I got it wrong, please forgive me.

I love recognizing my lovely reviewers. This chapter I'd like to thank everyone who commented on last chapter: Sparxfly98, qsklue, acro acro, Honoria Granger (x2!), Jen0318 (yes, I have Sirius and I love it!), AliceCullen03, and last, but not least, a loved but unregistered guest. Thank you all. Group hugs!

Reviews to chapter 26 will still be feeding the homeless doggies at the animal shelter until the 15th, but any time someone leaves a review, I admit, I squee a bit. :) I've got a lot to get through in the next few days and your reviews really encourage me to get off my duff and back to work!

Love and sock monkeys to everyone,

Elvee

Snatch

Chapter Twenty Nine

…

"Enemies make you stronger, allies make you weaker."

-Frank Herbert

…

The door creaked tiredly as it opened, revealing a dim room filled with the smell of candles that had been lit too long. Sickness pervaded the air, making it close and uncomfortable. Across the room heavy velvet drapes had been pulled until only a sliver of bright light fell across the carpet, highlighting the dust motes floating in the air.

Across the room in the center of the far wall was a large posted bed. The heavy drapes were open, framing a skeletal figure propped against the pillows.

"Hominum Revelio," whispered Hermione. The single red outline produced by her spell surrounded her old Headmaster, it was dull and flickering. The rest of the room appeared to be empty.

"Is that you, Minerva?" Came a thready voice from the bed. The words were slurred and difficult to interpret.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a look, before she stepped forward to the foot of the bed. "No, Professor. It's Hermione Granger."

The pile of covers shifted and by the candle lamp next to the bed, she could make out a shadowy skeletal figure against the pillows. "Ah! Miss Granger! What a pleasant surprise."His voice no longer had the strength it once did, but the merriment was still there, dancing around his words. "I was rather expecting you to be waylaid on the way, I'm afraid."

Behind her, Harry and Ron hurriedly cast murmured spells against the door. Dumbledore gave a weak cough before continuing with a dry chuckle, "But the three of you were always a force to be reckoned with." A sofa glided across the room towards the door. "And Mister Malfoy, nice to see you well. Tell me, how is your mother?" At Dumbledore's words, the sofa stopped. At the first hint Draco was removing the cloak, she frowned in his direction and shook her head.

Draco spoke, readjusting the cloak to cover his feet, "She is well, sir."

"Good," Dumbledore wheezed. "I am so pleased to hear it."

Finishing his spells, Ron went to the window and tore open one of the drapes, the flood of sunlight causing everyone to blink. He began warding the window. When Hermione's eyes adjusted, she gasped. Half of Professor Dumbledore's face had gone as black and withered as his hand. The old wizard sighed, "Yes, it is rather macabre sight, isn't it?" When he smiled, only one half of his face responded. The other looked desiccated, like leather stretched over sharp bone. A trembling hand slowly emerged from the blankets grasping a handkerchief and wiped away the drool that was trickling down the side of his face.

"We don't have much time, sir." Hermione prodded, not knowing how long they could hold the spell-reinforced the door.

"Ah yes, I must apologize for that. These days the Order is rather..." he chose his last word with care. "Overenthusiastic."

"Overenthusiastic!" Harry growled, storming to the side of the bed. "They were going to torture 'Mione!"

"The lot of them can bugger off! If they think they can hurt 'Mione, they're going to have to go through me and Harry!" Ron cried from the window seat. "I'll tell you that for free!" His face was pink and angry red sparks were spraying from the end of his wand.

Dumbledore sighed quietly. When he spoke, his voice was paper thin and held a hint of sadness. "Don't be so quick to dismiss them, Harry. Sometimes people forget that to fight for the greater good requires them to be good. It was a mistake I, myself made many years ago." Beyond the door to Dumbledore's office came a series of insistent but muffled thumps. Hermione flicked her eyes nervously to the door, then back to her old Headmaster. He grasped his wand from the crumpled blankets on his lap and with an effort, waved it at the door. "That should give us a few more minutes."

"Miss Granger, I assume you realize killing Lucius Malfoy will result in Mrs. Malfoy's death." Hermione nodded, wavering on disappointment. If she came all this way, if they took all those risks for Dumbledore to reiterate the obvious, this was going to be a complete and utter waste of time. "Do you have any idea how you intend to subdue him, then?"

She bit her lip. She had been thinking about it in the back of her mind. "I used a memory charm on Bellatrix and broke the wand while casting the spell."

"Did you?" He gave a chuckle that turned into a chest-rattling coughing fit. As he fought for breath, a resounding crash came from the outer office then raised voices beyond the door began an argument. Once recovered, he slowly wiped the bloody spittle from his lips with his handkerchief. "As I'm sure you know, broken wands frequently result in unstable magic. Not to worry, something of a more permanent nature will present itself."

The voices in the other room hushed. A resounding whump came from the door, making Hermione, Ron and Harry jump.

"Princess, we're running out of time!" Draco warned, his voice growling right next to her ear.

"Too right, Mister Malfoy. So we are," said Dumbledore. With an obviously painful flick of his wand, Harry and Ron froze on the spot. The previously swirling dust motes hung suspended in the air, turning them into twinkling lights against the shadowy room. Hermione's breath caught in her throat and she was about to cry out in protest before Dumbledore spoke again, "Forgive me, I only wanted to provide us with some privacy. Miss Granger, I find I must apologize to you. In my haste to deal with Tom and his associates, I'm afraid I have quite lost my way. For the second time in my life, I have allowed progress to rule over prudence; over what was right. For any pain that has caused you, I am sorry. I hope you can forgive an old man his foolish trespasses."

Hermione frowned and bit her lip. An apology from Professor Dumbledore was the last thing she'd expected. Did she trust him? She couldn't decide. It was best to hear him out in any case. Information was power, an un-leveraged advantage. Small or large, advantages added up. She bowed her head slightly and gave a slow, silent nod.

"You are too kind to this old fool of a wizard, Miss Granger." As she looked up, a small tear trickled from the corner of his eye, wending its way down the good side of his face. He cleared his throat. "Unfortunately, this world has no more time for sentimental fools, such as myself. As you predicted, the Order is beginning to fall into chaos. They will soon be scattered and leaderless. Despite our combined efforts, if we allow this to happen, there will be no turning back. Given time, Tom will replace his lieutenants and tighten his grip on Wizarding Britain."

She paled. "It's time."

He gave a slow smile, the dead side of his face showing her a rictus grin. "Indeed. In light of the prophecy, we know that only Harry can defeat Tom. Clever as you four may be, alone you cannot kill the many headed beast that his organization has become. You will need the Order, and they will need you."

"They'll kill us on sight now." Well, that wasn't entirely true. They'd kill everyone except for Harry.

The old wizard's good eye twinkled. "Not if I put you in charge."

"Me? But..." She squeaked.

"Who better, Miss Granger? You have the love, loyalty and friendship of the one man who can defeat Voldemort. You have brought Tom's organization to the breaking point single-handed. You have walked bold as a phoenix into an Order stronghold and managed to get to the sanctum sanctorium unaided."

"I wasn't unaided!" She cut in. "Draco came up with the plan..."

He held up his good hand to forestall her. "And that is precisely why it should be you. You see the worth in every one. You can and must use that to Harry's advantage."

Her mind reeled with the implications. If she were in charge of the Order... But then, no. They still wouldn't trust her, even with Dumbledore's endorsement. He wasn't long for this side of the veil. His strength had waned, even as he spoke. "As for the Order's loyalty, I concede the point that it may be difficult for you to trust each other. Mister Malfoy in particular will be a target. Fear of the unknown dies a hard death, I'm afraid. I suggest wand oaths or even unbreakable vows would be a good place to start; but, of course, that will be your choice."

She gave a curt nod, saying, "Yes, sir."

"I'm afraid our time is short. Good thing we are almost done, then, yes? I'd like to give you a gift." He motioned feebly to a book on the table next to the bed. Picking it up, the age became apparent in the crackling leather binding. On the cover, runes in gold leaf read The Tales of Beadle the Bard. "I have one last gift to help ensure your success. Unfortunately, it isn't something that can be given. It must be taken and it is vital that it be done before I die. When time returns to normal undoubtedly the members of the Order will break down the door. I'm afraid my spell work isn't what it once was." He gave an apologetic smile at this, before continuing, "I would advise you to disarm them rather quickly or I'm afraid a nasty misunderstanding may ensue. Once everyone has calmed down, I will speak to the members of the Order. When that is done, you must ensure Harry disarms me. He must take my wand."

She eyed the two entwined pieces of wood that made up his unique wand. She knew from her research wizards never gave up their wands voluntarily. Even after death, they were buried with them. "But..."

He smiled again, gentled by illness and exhaustion, before he pressed, "Consider it an old man's dying wish. Your word, Miss Granger, if you please."

She looked up into his good eye, to find a penetrating stare. The old wizard did nothing without a motive. There was a reason he was asking. She bobbed her head. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Yes, very good." With a grimace of pained effort, his good hand reached out and patted her wrist. The skin of his hand was thin and dry, almost crisp to the touch. It was nothing like normal skin at all. The blackening of his nail beds had begun. "You will understand before the end. You are, after all, the brightest witch of your age."

The dust motes began swimming again and she hissed to her friends, "Disarm them when they come through. It's time the Order understands I'm not their enemy. I'll take Professor McGonagall." They each quietly settled on a target as another resounding boom hit the door. "Professor, if you could do the honors."

"Right then, on three," he chuckled. "One. Two." When the count should have reached three, the door flew open and four stunned figures toppled unexpectedly into the room.

"Expelliarmus!" They all cried as one. Taken unawares, the wands flew across the room.

Catching Professor McGonagall's wand in her left hand, she flicked her wand again quickly, saying, "Silencio Turbela!" Kingsley and McGonagall's mouths opened in protest, but nothing came out.

With a flick of Draco's wand, the sofa that he'd moved earlier swiveled to provide seats behind them.

"All of you! Sit down!" Harry commanded, bristling with anger.

"Yeah, and shut up!" Ron added, brandishing his wand menacingly.

Draco rolled his eyes, "She silenced them, you git!"

"Oh! Er, right." The redhead said bashfully, then quickly returned to his menacing, his scowl deeper than before.

Faces sour, they each dropped into a seat one by one, with Tonks perching on the arm of the sofa. Snape was discreetly trying to reach into his robes. Harry stiffened and shifted his wand to the potion master's chest. "I wouldn't if I were you," he threatened.

"Severus!" The old headmaster chided. At his word, Professor Snape rolled his eyes and let his hand drop. "Good. Now we are all ready for a nice, friendly conversation." Hermione flicked her wand, producing a tea tray on the foot of the large bed. She and Dumbledore exchanged a smile. "An excellent idea, Miss Granger. Tea, anyone?" The old professor asked, his good eye twinkling.

"Granger, they were ready to wear your guts for garters and you want to give them a bloody tea party?" Draco hissed. She quelled him with a look, as she placed a cup in Professor Dumbledore's hand. Turning back to the tea tray, she took in each of the glaring Order member's faces as she levitated their tea across the room.

"Mister Weasley, how is your family?" Dumbledore inquired politely after summoning a house elf for his favorite lemon biscuits. Hermione levitated the plate around the room. Other than Dumbledore and Ron, there were no takers.

"Good, sir," Ron said, his mouth full of biscuit. "Although, it's been a while. Harry and I have been..." here he swallowed and took in Harry's sharp look. "Busy."

"That's good to hear," Dumbledore smiled, but trying to bring the tea cup to his lips, his hand trembled, sloshing tea over his chest. "Oh dear," he sighed.

"Here, sir, allow me," Hermione offered. She tipped the cup to his lips and used the serving towel to clean any dribbles.

"Thank you, my dear."With an effort he cleared his throat. "Now that we see we can all act quite civil, Miss Granger, if you would be so kind as to lift your spell?" She complied with a flick of her wand.

"That'd be attacking an Auror, that will," glared Tonks. Snape had eyes for no one but Ron, his gaze so unsettling it caused the younger man to squirm.

"Two Aurors," crowed Kingsley. "And a Death Eater to boot! No fussing now, hand them over, Dumbledore."

Before either Draco or Hermione could respond, Harry stepped forward and spat, "Touch them and I'll leave you lot to defeat Voldemort!"

Draco's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before resuming his smooth expression. Hermione clutched his elbow, her engagement ring flashing in the dying light from the window.

"So it's true!" Minerva McGonagall gasped. "You intend to marry this... this... Death Eater!"

At her side, Draco stiffened, but Hermione tightened her grip on his arm. "This Death Eater," she sneered, "Rescued me when his father was torturing me. You, on the other hand, Professor, led me like a lamb to the slaughter!" Professor McGonagall pursed her lips and flushed in unspoken anger.

"Now, now," soothed Dumbledore. "There are much more important things to discuss than petty bickering. Don't you agree, Miss Granger?" Slowly, she let her hackles smooth back out. After a calming breath, she gave a curt nod. "The final battle approaches at last. Unfortunately, I will not be joining you. The time has come for me to pass the mantle, and I find myself quite relieved we have such a competent leader among us."

Puzzled looks from the Order members assembled on the sofa turned into surreptitious glances at Harry. "No," Dumbledore chuckled. "I'm afraid Harry is much too busy with other things. I speak of Miss Granger."

"What?" Professor McGonagall squawked.

Professor Snape jumped to his feet, spitting, "You expect us to be led by a seventeen year old child?" Hermione colored and it was Draco's turn to pull her close.

Dumbledore laughed, "Not at all! I want you to be led by the brightest witch of our age." He held up his hand as Tonks and Kingsley both popped to their feet in outrage, continuing smoothly, "And perhaps you have forgotten, Severus, but Miss Granger is eighteen."

Ron blinked, then said in awe, "Bloody brilliant, that's what that is!" Harry shot her a measuring look. It was too neutral to give anything away.

In her ear, Draco whispered, "Are you sure you trust them?"

Hermione whispered back, "Aside from Harry and Ron? Not a one."

From the outer office, an angry woman's voice called, "Severus Snape! You wait 'til I get my hands on you!" Molly Weasley stomped into the door frame, red faced and furious. Catching Hermione's eye, her look crumpled into a relieved smile, "Oh thank Merlin! I came as soon as I heard what they were planning!" She engulfed Hermione in a matronly embrace, then pulled back to look her over, asking, "Are you alright dear? They didn't hurt you, did they?"

"Uh, no. No, I'm fine, Mrs. Weasley." Hermione stammered.

"Well, no thanks to that lot, I say!" She smoothed Hermione's hair away from her eyes.

"Molly," Dumbledore said warmly. "You're just in time. As I was saying, Miss Granger will be taking charge of the Order as of today."

"But Albus, she's so young," Mrs. Weasley wheedled. "Are you sure she's ready?"

Ron's jaw dropped open. "Are you daft, Mum? She's taken out more inner circle Death Eaters than the entire Order combined! It's brilliant, I say."

"Yes, well, it wasn't them I was worried about." At those words Mrs. Weasley spun around and pinned all four Order members on the couch with her sternest glare.