Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Harry Potter, except those that clearly aren't from J.K. Rowling's stories. And since I expect anyone reading this by now to be a complete HP aficionado, I'm sure you'll know which ones they are.
Chapter 3 — Lies
Hermione awoke the next day with a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
"Please let it all have been a dream," she prayed as she went down to breakfast. She paused for a moment before entering the Great Hall, then shook her head at her folly — waiting would not change the truth — took a deep breath, and stepped inside. There sat Ron, and on either side of him were two empty seats — one was hers, and the other was Harry's.
"Morning," she said dully, sinking into her seat. Please let Ron be oblivious, please let Ron be oblivious….
"Hermione, there you are. Have you seen Harry? I couldn't find him at all this morning, and his bed didn't look slept in," Ron asked through a mouthful of sausage.
Hermione for once was grateful for her head of bushy hair, since it hid her face as she lied, "No, I haven't. Maybe he had a meeting with Professor McGonagall."
"Yeah, maybe." The casual way Ron went back to his food hit Hermione hard. She still wasn't used to just being friends again. She put on her best mask of indifference and turned to talk to Ginny, taking advantage of her friend's location to glance at the table where Draco Malfoy usually sat. His seat was also empty. Ginny, who had been watching Ron and Hermione with concern, assumed that Hermione's expression had to do with the red-haired boy unconcernedly making his way through a laden plate, and hurried to distract her.
Their small talk was interrupted by the morning mail. A large barn owl swooped down, depositing the Daily Prophet in the middle of Hermione's breakfast. With a grimace of disgust, she wiped the strawberry jam off her paper and offered the bird a bronze Knut and a drink from her goblet, which it accepted gratefully before taking to the air again.
"Anything interesting?" Ginny asked.
"No, nothing," Hermione replied, not sure whether to be pleased or suspicious. Dumbledore's death had hit the Ministry harder than it would like to admit. They made no mention of Voldemort's activities other than a warning that he was out there. Well, at least they were finally admitting to that. "Oh, goody, they have a Fiendishly Difficult Crossword Puzzle today," Hermione said with a hint of her old spirit, and began to attack the checkered box.
A loud hooting disrupted her concentration. Hermione looked up to see a spectacled owl hovering low over the table. It flitted anxiously from one end of the hall to the other, sometimes dipping down to gaze into a person's face before flapping back up again.
"Blimey, what's its problem?" Ron growled as the owl's close approach knocked a piece of toast from his hand. "Who do you reckon it's looking for?"
Hermione was saved from trying to devise an answer when the owl gave one last hoot and flew off. She had the disturbing notion that she knew who it had been trying to find.
-:-+-:-+-:-+-:-
Hermione barely arrived to Transfiguration on time. She had spent her entire morning in the library, hastily pulling out every possible reference on Animagi and Imperius curses. She had even used the pass Professor Flitwick had given her last week to look in the Restricted Section. All her books told her the same thing: it was possible to force someone who had transformed into an Animagi back into their original form, but it would require a level of transfiguration that most adults never achieved. Hermione would need at least a year to learn how to do it properly, and she dared not hurry — the consequences could be deadly. The only person Hermione knew who might have the ability to change Harry back safely was Professor McGonagall, and Malfoy had made certain that she couldn't ask her for help.
Malfoy. That was the other problem. Even if she could change Harry back into his original form, he would still be under the Imperius curse. Without his memories to help him fight it, the only way the curse could be broken was if the enchanter lifted it, or died. I will not murder, Hermione thought fiercely, not even Malfoy, no matter what he has done. There must be another way.
But she could not think of one, and with a start she realized that her morning had flown by, and she was going to be late to class.
Professor McGonagall cast her a stern look as she slipped into her seat, but did not say anything, for which Hermione was profoundly grateful. Her luck ran out though, at the end of class.
"Miss Granger, a word, if you would," Professor McGonagall said as Hermione prepared to follow the other students out the door.
"Of course," she replied, ignoring the trepidation rising in her chest. Hermione waited as McGonagall packed up her things, and then followed the Headmistress through the crowded halls of Hogwarts; the babbling mass of students gradually faded away as they neared the teachers' quarters.
"Sugar Quill," McGonagall commanded briskly, stopping in front of the large gargoyle that guarded her office. It had scarcely finished moving aside before the headmistress swept into the room, with Hermione shuffling reluctantly behind her.
Hermione let her eyes roam over the portraits of the past heads of Hogwarts as she walked inside. The newest addition hung just to the left of the chair in which McGonagall now sat. Smiling blue eyes twinkled out at her; the warm and wise man she had come to love was now no more than oils on canvas, Hermione realized sadly. McGonagall's voice broke her thoughts.
"We all miss him," she said gently, indicating with a sweep of her hand that Hermione should sit down. "But he is part of the reason that I brought you here. Tell me Hermione, have you seen Harry?"
"Um, not recently, Professor," Hermione stuttered, which was true. Malfoy had not been at breakfast.
"I see," McGonagall said. Her eyes did not have the same piercing quality that Dumbledore's had, but right now they seemed to gaze right through the young girl. Hermione squirmed uncomfortably in her seat.
"Hermione," McGonagall said, leaning forward slightly. Hermione was startled to hear her first name proceed from the Headmistress' mouth. "Do you know that a Horcrux was destroyed the other day?"
"But…but that's wonderful!" Hermione exclaimed, confused.
"Indeed. Apparently Mundungus took it upon himself to remove a locket containing a Horcrux from the Black house for its 'protection.'" Hermione had never heard her professor scoff, but McGonagall's tone was treading remarkably close to contempt. "Regardless, it has been reobtained and destroyed."
"So that just leaves three left," Hermione began. "Harry will be pleased—" Hermione cut her words off abruptly, but it was too late. McGonagall's eyes sharpened on her once again. Why, oh why did I mention Harry?
"Where is Mr. Potter?" the Headmistress asked sternly, never taking her eyes from Hermione's face. When Hermione didn't answer right away, she continued, "I sent him an owl with the news that I have just disclosed to you, since he was so upset at not being able to look for the Horcruxes himself. The owl has returned to me with its letter intact." McGonagall indicated a post off to the side, and Hermione lifted her gaze from the floor long enough to catch sight of a spectacled owl munching happily on a rodent, before fixing her eyes resolutely on the rug-strewn stone again. "An owl can find a wizard halfway around the world without trouble, but it cannot find your Mr. Potter. So I ask you again, where is he?"
"He…" Hermione searched her mind desperately, looking for a response, a way out, anything. How she hated Malfoy! "He left."
"I beg your pardon?"
"He wanted to look for the Horcruxes himself. He thought that because Dumbledore told him to do it, he was the only one who could."
"Dumbledore also told him to finish school."
"For no apparent reason," Hermione argued desperately. "Dumbledore's other orders came first."
"And he left you and Mr. Weasley behind?" McGonagall raised an incredulous eyebrow.
"Harry said it was too dangerous. Ron doesn't even know yet. I…I only know because I saw him leave." Hermione hid her face, which was scarlet. She had never lied to a professor before. She sat in terror of McGonagall's next words, which would tear her falsehood apart.
Instead, McGonagall was silent. She contemplated the young witch for several moments, then said, "And you have no idea where he is?"
Hermione shook her head violently.
"Very well. You will let me know as soon as you hear from him. I don't think I need to remind you of the danger he is in?"
No, Professor, of that I am fully aware, Hermione thought bitterly. She shook her head.
"Then you are excused." The headmistress watched as the girl snatched up her satchel and scurried out the door. It was only when the gargoyle had sealed the entrance behind her that she let out a sigh.
"She's lying to me, isn't she? I never would have thought it," McGonagall murmured sadly to the portrait behind her.
"We must trust her judgment," it replied kindly. "After all, this is Miss Granger. If she refuses to tell us Harry's whereabouts, then she must have a very good reason."
Chapter 3 Summary:
McGonagall questions Hermione about Harry's whereabouts after an owl she sends cannot find him, and Hermione is forced to lie.