Hello strangers! No, it really is me, can you believe it? I want Hermione's time-turner now. I know what I'll write, I just lack the time to actually write it down and to fix previous misspellings like the last freaking chapter's title! :( But here's a long, eventful chapter for you who valiantly have waited for my return. There's plenty of drama ahead. Enjoy until we meet again!
Inspirational music: Counting bodies like sheep to the rhythm of the war drums by A Perfect Circle
Chap. 36 Backlashes
With the setting sun warming his back, Scabior leant down in the familiar forest and examined the ground rigorously.
The snatcher camp was long gone and no-one had lingered, judging by the hidden evidence only he could find in the dirt. He had not expected anything different; if his leader had been punished and demoted by the Dark Lord, he would have gotten the hell out of the place as fast as he could. Without a boss, the snatcher's loyalties to each other usually vaporized which left each man on his own.
His fingertips caressed a barely concealed hole from a tent peg as he wondered where his men had gone to. Perhaps some had found other snatcher gangs and been allowed to join them in the hunt for muggleborns and blood traitors. Others, especially those who did not bear the Dark Mark, could have looked for shelter alone, hoping to survive the war if they stayed as far away from it as possible.
That was what he had planned to do before Hermione decided to play the part of the noble heroine.
He did understand her reasons but it hurt that she had not brought him with her. He should have told her more specifically that whatever she chose to do, he would support and protect her as she carried out her plan.
The snatcher within brutally reminded him of the loss as it thumped in his core and Scabior fisted the area where the beating organ but not his heart resided, trying to get the anguished creature to shut up.
He raised himself and began to make his way over to the place where the trio's tent had been. The protecting shield was gone and he could easily approach the hill where he used to spy on Hermione. No tent. Still, he could not stop himself from jogging down the hill and for the first time walk where she had walked under his watchful eyes months ago.
Not a single thing lay scattered around his feet. Whoever had been here had done a remarkable job of collecting everything, down to the last piece of garbage. Scabior carefully sniffed the air while he slowly rounded the small clearing with some blooming bushes. Every smell of humans was replaced by the soothing scents of summer closing in.
Disappointed, he knelt down and searched the ground. Someone had wanted to cover up the traces of the tent. He smirked as he brushed away a thin layer of soft dirt only to see a distinct square mark from a chair leg. He had taught his snatchers how to make traces disappear without leaving behind a feeling of magic in the air. So, Rusty and the others must have plundered the trio's camp before they had gone. He wondered for how long they had waited for his return even after the Dark Lord had told them the news about their disgraced leader.
Suddenly he discovered he had let his eyes rest on what had been the other side of the tent, exactly where Hermione's bed had been. He sighed and got up. He had much to do before he could afford some sleep. Finding a good place for sleeping, setting up a proper shield around him and deciding where he would go next.
As he began to create a small but safe shield around a pretty big elm, he contemplated visiting the nearby Leeds. Despite the risk of exposure, he needed fresh information about the war. Rumours would surely travel faster and be more reliable than the Daily Prophet which was in the hands of the dark powers. Maybe Chuck the vendor lurked around the small wizarding block of Leeds. At that moment, Scabior swore loudly and scared a thrush who sat on a branch above him.
He had completely forgotten to ask for money from Claire before he left. Genuinely annoyed as himself, he dug his hands into the pockets and fortunately found some coins he had not spent when he visited the Irish pub.
'Five sickles and twenty-seven knuts. Shit!'
He for one knew how expensive information could be, and he had little else to bargain with. If he had been his old self it would have been no match to simply snatch a wanted person and earn a heap of galleons without further ado . But he had changed now and furthermore had decided on which side he stood. The muggleborns were people too, and sometimes better than he. At least Hermione was.
So Scabior gathered his few coins in one pocket and picked up the satchel from the ground by the elm. He dared not leave all his belongings in the wood, may it be inside a protecting shield which also made them invisible. He held out his wand with no intention of lowering it until he returned from Leeds. He was prepared for dangers. He focused his thoughts and apparated right in a corner of the empty market place.
Perhaps he had been spoiled with peaceful sceneries on Ireland, but he became aghast at how dark and dirty the block had become, and that was saying something as its previous state had not exactly been inviting. The insane beggars had disappeared but in the obscure light, Scabior spotted a body on the other side of the market place, covered in bloodied rags. Crows swarmed the area and rummaged through mountains of rubbish when they did not add to the eerie atmosphere with their sharp caws.
Scabior headed towards the pub which was hidden in shadows from the surrounding buildings, but kept his eyes vigilant in case someone indeed was in the seemingly abandoned area. But as he approached the pub he slowed his steps until he finally stopped altogether in front of the burned house. The wall beside the door had collapsed, whether by an explosion or a fire. He could make out something that looked like a counter but otherwise the entire room was destroyed and covered in ashes.
"What the..." he let out before an instinct advised him to turn around.
He peered at the pavement on the other shaded side of the market place and cautiously raised his wand. He could not register anything but continued to stand absolutely still and quiet before the pub and knew the shadow would keep him almost invisible, should someone try to spot him. And so he waited and only drew small breaths in order to keep being silent and always be ready to utter a spell. His feet grew cold from the lack of movement and a breeze brought a loose strand to his stubble where the hair got stuck and yet he stood frozen. And then something black amongst the black moved.
A spell shot out from Scabior's wand almost at the same time and hit the undefined target with great success. He had always had a knack for the Incarcerous spell.
Scabior quickly followed the housewalls to not reveal himself completely if there were others there. At last he reached the fallen figure and thought he experienced another seizure when a stench of filth assaulted him. Upon closer look, the tied up bundle was wrapped in dirty blankets with holes big enough to swallow quaffles. A muffled grunt was heard from the human and Scabior hissed, "Expelliarmus," to render the other one defenceless. However, no wand wriggled out between the ropes, although an intimidating knife did. Scabior grabbed the weapon in the air and took an insolent leap over the moaning bundle to take a closer look at its front.
Despite the haggard appearance and the blue bruises on the forehead; it was a woman.
She tried to bite through the rope across her mouth but her eyes did not seem to register Scabior. Warily, he crouched down and extended one hand to hold her down. As he reluctantly touched the beyond filthy rag covering her shoulder, the woman went limp as if resigning every will to fight.
"Okay, here's what we're gonna do. You're gonna keep that voice down and in return I will not harm you. Deal?"
Scabior raised an eyebrow and after a while the woman's grey eyes focused on him and she nodded the best she could on the pavement. Still, Scabior would not be fooled by female tricks so he decided to keep the ropes around her apart from the one hiding her mouth. The woman released a heavy breath but stared with terrified eyes at him.
"You alone here?" Scabior asked and guessed the witch was around twenty-five years old.
"Yes, sir," she whispered before she smiled goofily at him and added, "Do you have my wand? It seems I lost it."
Scabior sighed. So she was one of the wandless beggars crowding the gutters. He hoped he could get something beside nonsense from her.
"Do you know what happened to the pub?"
Her eyes began to gleam of juvenile mischief as she replied, "The fire! It was so bright and warm here for a while. I warmed my hands. Though I didn't like the screams."
"What screams?"
She closed her eyes and yawned sleepily. If the world had been normal, Scabior would have taken her to St. Mungo's.
"The screams below the burning floor, of course. But they are still screaming. I can hear them."
Quite concerned about her condition, Scabior tentatively felt the woman's forehead and pale cheeks. The grimy skin was ice cold.
"Why was the pub burned down?" he wondered as he carefully lifted the beanie from the woman's head and revealed an old and scabbed wound under the unkempt blonde hair.
"They said he hid mudbloods from the Dark Lord. They left him inside. He gave me food sometimes, you know."
The woman had begun to wriggle restlessly which prevented Scabior from healing her wound. He silently cursed as he estimated the situation. The pub owner had died from protecting muggleborns who also had been taken care of. Afterwards every man and woman who still lingered in the wizarding Leeds must have left which was why the area was nearly deserted. He would not gain any information here.
He glanced down at the woman. He guessed she had not been able to leave, or even realized she should leave.
"Where are your family, love?" he sighed, not really expecting her to answer.
"They went down, down, down in the inferi pit. Don't worry, I've got a throat to slit. Never mind my family who's dead. I'm gonna bring you the Dark lord's head!" she lilted happily but Scabior clamped a hand over her mouth and hushed.
"Quiet down! Don't you ever sing that song again, you understand?"
He had for the first time seen a new dimension in the war; the suppressed people's defiance. But if this poor girl sang that song among Death Eaters, she would be severely punished.
The crows had gone silent and the sky was darkening. Scabior made to stand up but frail fingers clutched him by the wrist and held him down. He contemplated leaving her but than he found he could not. Not only because the young woman reminded him of Hermione, but because she was a human. Probably a muggleborn who had suffered through many horrors before he came by. He could tell by her traumatized brain, the starving, cold body and her exhausted eyes that she would not make it through another week on her own.
And yet the dying girl reached for him, in one last attempt to save herself, to cling to an anchor of life. He could not leave her here. But he could not take her with him either as he only wished to be responsible for himself in the invisible trenches he had to travel through to get to Hermione. And then it hit him.
The magical hospital might be in shambles but he had not taken the muggle hospitals into consideration out of pure habit. He was used to ignore what went on in the muggle world and now, whether as an act of irony or three of Hogwarts' founders joking with a pureblood, it occurred to him he could take the hurt woman to an 'emer-agency' entrance and let muggle healers take care of her. At least she would be safe from the dark powers there and with their odd methods, maybe the muggles could restore her mind. That was all he could do for her at the moment.
He used the knife to cut off the ropes around her small frame and cupped her chin to make her face him. "I'm going to take you out of here. You're going to a nicer place with warmth, food and kind people. Sounds good, huh?" he said gently and when she opened her mouth, he hoped she had understood him.
"Do I have to let you rape me before you take me there?"
He flinched as he recognized the wounded, empty gaze from another time, involving another girl. This woman seemed completely indifferent to the prospect of getting violated. Scabior's hand trembled from internal fury as he stroked her hair.
"No, but you have to promise to not say anything about magic or the wizarding world to the people you're seeing. They're muggles, you see."
"Like my dad?" she asked and Scabior nodded for her sake.
"Yeah, so don't mention wizard stuff, okay. Now, throw your arm around my neck."
She tried but could not lift her hand high enough, so Scabior quickly caught it in the air and helped her.
"There. Up we go," he uttered optimistically as he gathered her in his arms and raised himself. Goosebumps spread across his skin when her cold side greedily pressed itself against his warm chest.
"Thank you," she whispered drowsily before she leaned her head against his shoulder and dozed off. Scabior grimaced, not because of the sour smell around him, but because she weighted much less than Hermione had done when he carried her from Malfoy Manor. He purposely took longer strides to reach the Leeds General Infirmary faster and glared at the black shapes of rats scurrying between the rubbish.
The last living human had now surrendered the wizard block in the town to animals.
Hermione woke up freezing the next day. No sunlight could shine into the room and no Scabior lay beside her.
Instead of feeling sorry for something she was unable to change anyway, she lifted her head from the pillow and studied the other occupants in the room. Harry's hair was rather ruffled after a night's turning and his glasses were placed on the floor beside his bed. By the opposite wall, Ron snored slightly and had a healthy red colour on his cheeks. Apparently he was not bothered by any coldness.
Hermione sensed she would not be able to go back to sleep so she rose and picked up her clothes to change in the bathroom nearby. Once her hair was brushed, her stomach gave a growl and Hermione knew Scabior would have urged her to eat if she had been with him. She needed to take care of herself if she wanted to take on Voldemort.
So she tiptoed downstairs and shared breakfast with a very alert Fleur, a hunched, yawning Bill and a couple of ex-hostages. She tried politely to add to the conversation led by Fleur but soon decided to return to the second floor. Luckily, the boys were up by now.
"Morning, Hermione! I need to eat. Wait for me here, will you?" Ron greeted her with, before he rushed past her and all but dashed down the stairs. She shot an bewildered look at Harry who shrugged apologetically and commented, "At least he's back to normal when it comes to food."
She understood but she had forgotten how Ron's obsession with food could make him discard the people closest to him. She watched Harry tying his shoes and asked quietly, "Do you think you could tell me more details about yesterday now?"
Harry reached for a wand under his pillow and held it out to her.
"Ron and I got ourselves new wands. I got mine from Malfoy with an Expelliarmus. And Kingsley won Bellatrix' wand which he gave to Ron. The wands don't really fit us but they work."
"But if your own wands were destroyed or something similar when the Dark Lord caught us, who owns the wands you two used yesterday?"
Harry smiled warmly and looked very grateful.
"We borrowed Mr and Mrs Weasley's. They were not supposed to join us in the attack so they had two wands to spare. Pretty convenient, right? They're coming over soon to pick up the wands."
Hermione felt her heart swell for the generous act of Ron's parents. To be without a wand at this time was surely a downright nightmare.
"What happened next in the Manor? With the prisoners and...Dobby?"
Harry's features turned sad.
"While one group kept the Death Eaters busy, the rest of us found the dungeon in the Manor. But then...everything went wrong."
Harry swallowed and struggled to get the words out.
"Wormtail discovered us. I guess he tried to flee from the fight upstairs. He threatened to call the Dark Lord but then I reminded him of his life debt to me. So instead of touching his Dark Mark, his ghost hand began to choke him. We couldn't save him." Hermione clasped a hand over her mouth in horror. Harry acknowledged her by reaching out and placing his hand on her shoulder.
"Right after the body had stopped twisting we got a Patronus from George. The fight had turned uneven and the other group had to retreat to the dungeon. We helped them the best we could and fought to get a few seconds of respite so we could disapparate with the prisoners. I got Draco's wand when he shifted his attention to his mother for a split second. That was when one of the Bill's, I think it was Lupin, conjured a strong shield between us and the Death Eaters. We grabbed the hostages but when I was going to disapparate, I saw a hole in the breaking shield. Bellatrix threw a dagger straight at my chest. D...Dobby appeared before me and..."
Harry coughed before he finished the sentence, "...and he saved my life with his. He collapsed into my arms as I disapparated."
Harry swallowed with difficulty before he knelt down to fix the tie on his shoe and Hermione granted him a moment to collect himself.
"So... do you have any plans for our mission?" she said tryingly as Ron strode through he doorway, still chewing on a piece of bread.
"Oh, Hermione, you wouldn't believe what kind of advantages we have now," he announced as Harry carefully stuck a hand in the pocket of his jeans.
"This was stuck to the hilt of the dagger, though by accident I bet," Harry mumbled as his hand emerged, holding a long, black, curly hair. Hermione recognized too well whom the hair belonged to and Harry lowered his voice to a whisper so a feeling of secrecy settled in the bedroom.
"One of our sources reported that Bellatrix at the present has the sword of Gryffindor inside her vault in Gringotts. We need it to destroy the rest of the horcruxes. And when I was tortured by the Dark Lord," Harry rushed his words, "I saw some things in his mind. He keeps thinking about that vault. I think we might find something more than the sword in there."
Hermione closed her eyes to go through what Harry had told her before she opened them again and with shivers prickling the back of her neck, she slowly asked, "Harry, what are you saying? 'We might find...' You're not actually suggesting we..."
"Yes, I do," he interrupted and held up the black hair and stared it down with unrelenting determination. "We're going to break into Gringotts."
She stood numbed and mute during some slow seconds before she remembered how to talk.
"It can't be done. I've read about Gringotts' history. Every security system the goblins have used through times has been efficient, complicated and impossible to breach. Even during a peaceful moment it's impossible, so imagine how harder and more dangerous it would be to break in now when the dark powers control the establishment."
One corner of Harry's mouth twitched upwards.
"It's good to know that you've got the facts covered. We could use that information of yours. But I am serious, Hermione, and we've had time to think this through. Besides, there was one successful break-in before my first year at Hogwarts." He glanced at Ron who nodded and took over.
"Fine, I admit it was more an idea than a plan before but now we've got ourselves valuable advantages. We will get Griphook, the wounded goblin, to help us and then there's you with your brilliant mind. we really need you, Hermione. We will be able to make preparations and we already know how to enter Gringotts." Suddenly Ron's eyes flickered away and he looked a little uncertain.
"Oh, come on mate, I think she can't get more shocked than she already is," Harry said encouragingly and peaked Hermione's curiosity.
"Alright then. Hermione, you will impersonate Bellatrix with Polyjuice potion."
Hermione could not hide her look of disgust at the very thought of drinking a Bellatrix-flavoured drink. But she contemplated the idea. It was clever.
"You have her wand," she mumbled to Ron who looked relieved she had not become upset and Harry breathed out loudly.
"Yes, and you must borrow it while you're her. I will have your wand, if that's alright," Ron stated.
Hermione ignored the urge to touch her wand in her jeans. She knew Ron needed it and that he would be careful with it. Still, it was hard to not be reluctant. The wand was her most priced possession and she had already experienced how it felt to be without it for a long time. But she saw no other solution and she knew she should not complain when Harry and Ron's own wands were lost and they were stuck with alien wands.
"Yes, of course," she gave in and wrapped one hand around her upper arm to make the discomfort go away.
"Good. Now that we've filled you in on what we're up to, I propose we visit Griphook and then Mr Ollivander. It can't hurt to ask him about the Elder Wand, right?" Harry declared briskly and gestured to the others to follow him out the door. Hermione made to walk after him when Ron grabbed her hand and hauled her back.
Astonished, she turned her face to him and he looked potentially nauseous as if he fought an internal battle.
"Hermione, I...," he started and began to tread his fingers through hers in a very intimate way. "I'm so sorry about yesterday. I never meant to imply you haven't suffered. You're not angry with me, are you?"
Hermione had to handle this with delicacy. But at the same time she could not pretend something untrue in fear of hurting Ron.
"No, I'm not angry with you. And I guess we all were tired and easily peeved last night. I know you're my friend," Hermione smiled lightly at him, hoping she had made him understand the friend part, and added, "Ron, I would like to have my hand back."
He, however, did not join her easygoing manner and muttered, "How much do you know about my and Harry's time as prisoners?"
"Is that what's troubling you?"
"Please just answer the question," he snapped and bent his fingers so she could not make hers slip from his grip. Hermione paled when she did not recognize Ron, before she convinced herself it all came down to his trauma.
"I...I know you were both tortured. But you were strong enough to come back. Thank Merlin for the Order." "So you haven't heard, seen or read any details?" Ron persisted and stared at her face.
Hermione shook her head and made the brown curls swing back and forth. She told him the truth. Although, she had her suspicions after her private conversation with Fleur. Immediately, Ron relaxed his hand and allowed her to withdraw her fingers.
"Good. Good," he said to himself and closely examined the clammy inside of the hand which had held hers.
"Ron, what's the meaning of this?" Hermione exclaimed and tried in vain to rid herself of the feeling of unease at her long-time friend's unexpected behaviour.
"I'm glad you don't know more. I would hate it if you were disgusted by me," he admitted in a small, trembling voice that differed from his previously sharp one. Hermione drew a deep breath as her heart wept for Ron's sake. Whatever he had been through, he still needed to process it and apparently feared she would reject him.
"Ron, I would never be disgusted by you. You're my friend even though I sometimes get mad at you, like when you run away from our tent when we're looking for horcruxes," she reminded him gently and Ron smirked at her joke.
"But I came back and you forgave me. Eventually."
"Eventually," Hermione repeated and laughed at his familiar silliness.
"I want you to know I thought about you all the time while I was in the Ministry," Ron said soberly and once again his eyes were fixed on hers. "You were like a Patronus for me. I thought about you and felt better despite...everything that went on around me. You are very important to me, Hermione."
"You too, Ron. And I'm happy that I could help you somehow, even when I was somewhere else."
She was happy for his gracious compliments. But she suspected she to Ron meant something more than a friend.
"But that's who you are. You're smart and brilliant and on top of that; you're so kind to everybody who deserves it. Bloody hell, I remember how determinedly you led the S.P.E.W campaign. Dobby and Winky warmed up to you. I bet the other would have too if they had had more time. You see the good in others."
Ron's features had softened at the end of his speech and his eyes twinkled from under his red fringe. Hermione stood flabbergasted. This was one of the most beautiful things Ron had ever said and if he had spoken like this last autumn, before the big fight between him and Harry, she would have fallen faster than a wingless hippogriff. In more than one way, Ronald Weasley had matured since she last saw him.
But then she thought about his last sentence. She was proud of her ability to see past the exterior of a person. She trusted her judgement and was rarely mistaken, well, except for that time when she first met the presumed mass-murderer Sirius Black in the Shrieking Shack. But in her defence, she had not met him in person before that night and had quickly changed her opinion of him as the truth unravelled itself.
She had seen the good in Scabior too, long before he saw it himself.
She winced quietly and berated herself. She was supposed to not think about him! But how could she not think about the man she loved who, as certain as she was in Shell Cottage, thought about her? She really hoped Scabior would not succumb to the darkness and hatred again now when she was gone.
"Herimone?" Ron brought her from her reverie.
"Yes, eh. Thank you for that compliment. But I think we should join Harry now before he begins to design a plan without us," she clumsily declared and walked through the doorway.
But her worry about her conversation with Ron rapidly disappeared upon spotting Harry slumped against the wall a couple of doors away. His back shook now and then and when she called his name, he turned his head towards her. His face was white and tiny beads of sweat covered his forehead.
"He has it," he emitted with a hoarse hiss. "I saw it in my mind. He has the Elder Wand."
Dun, dun, dun! As you see, we're approaching the ominous battle of Hogwarts. I promise plenty of drama, but I fear I won't have time to update for a while, as usual :P Perhaps you could cheer me up with those beautiful reviews? (*wink, wink)