Chapter III
The loud crowing of a rooster pierced Hermione's ears, yanking her from slumber and making her grumble, stuffing her pillow tighter around her mess of frizzy curls to block out the noise. But suddenly she wasn't alone; the dividing curtain rasped and heavy footfalls sounded, crossing the floor just a moment before the blankets were rudely yanked from her body and a sleep-roughened voice like thunder rang out—"Get up! What did I tell you?"
"Aah! What...huh? What's happening?" Hermione yelped, scrambling clumsily up and pushing her hair out of her puffy eyes. What she saw was an irate Severus Snape, his brow knitted and the usual scowl gracing his thin mouth. His hair was already sleek and tied back again, the rest of him encased in the flat black steel suit with his fur-lined cloak draped over one forearm and his helmet held firmly in that hand.
"I told you to be up at cock-crow, did I not?" he demanded.
"I mean...yes, but—"
"But nothing! You are late, and every moment more you dawdle subtracts from our effectiveness! Make yourself decent and be outside in ten minutes," ordered the black-clad knight, moving swiftly out of the small room in a ripple of heavy cloth and cold metal.
It was then that Hermione looked down and realized that she was covered only by a practically transparent shift.
Ten minutes—or more precisely, nine minutes and thirty-three seconds—later, Hermione came bursting out of the house properly dressed and carrying a rucksack. What she noticed immediately was the emptiness of the town; everyone, including her parents, had left overnight.
Everyone, that is, except for the Order of the Phoenix. They were out front, bustling to and fro, packing things, checking supplies and weapons. Snape stood by his large black stallion with Lupin, who was currently fussing over some armor adjustment. Snape caught sight of Hermione and his eyes fell to narrow slits. "You're up."
"I am," Hermione sniffed primly, determined not to let him beat her down.
"Do you know how to ride?" Snape asked, and hissed softly as Lupin cinched a buckle too tight. "Watch it...!"
"Sorry," the other man muttered. He glanced up and over Snape's shoulder with a little smile, "Good morning, Miss Granger."
"Good morning, Sir Lupin," Hermione returned cordially, mirroring his smile.
"Hermione!" The clanking of armor announced Tonks' arrival, her shock of blue hair fluttering in the crisp, cold morning breeze. Her eyes sparkled jovially as she laid both hands on the other girl's shoulders and grinned down happily at her. "You're in for an adventure today, girl! I hope you know how to ride."
"Well, Papa taught me some basics when I was small...why?" the young woman asked uneasily.
"We're going hunting," Remus answered, finishing the last of Snape's armor tweaks. "We ride out of here tomorrow."
"Wait, what? Ride out...you mean leave?" Hermione sputtered. "I thought you were staying to defend the town!"
Both Remus and Tonks laughed, and Snape regarded her coolly. "That was a ruse to get the Muggles out. The Dark Lord is nowhere near here."
"We're trailing him, not going head-to-head," Tonks supplied. "We don't have nearly enough fighters for that."
"No indeed," Snape agreed lowly. "What we seek is much more...elusive."
"Perhaps even more dangerous," Tonks added.
Hermione, stunned past words, simply looked from one to the other. "Can I tell her?" Tonks asked Snape.
"Let me handle this," Snape said loftily, gesturing to Hermione for her to follow. Tonks and Lupin watched them re-enter the Granger home.
"She'll never believe it," Remus said. "She's just been torn from her family and found out that we lied to all those Muggles...it's too much for her to process."
Tonks blinked at the closed door and absently stroked the velvety neck of Snape's charger. "She's a smart girl," she said at last. "She will understand...if not now, then in time."
"She hasn't even gotten control of her magic yet; how is she supposed to help us in this?" Remus challenged.
"Snape told me that her mother wrote him...she said Hermione has a natural gift and desire for medical practice...he thought that we might be able to help turn her into a mediwitch," his wife explained. "We cannot possibly fulfill this quest without some damage; having her there to heal when it is needed would be logically advantageous."
Remus pulled a face. "Since when do you think about anything logically? You're the most heavy-handed, foolhardy person I know, perhaps save for Mad-Eye."
Tonks snickered and shrugged. "Just relaying Snape's words."
The company busied themselves with odd chores for a bit longer until the Granger's door opened again and Snape emerged first, his flat black armor gleaming dully in the watery sunlight, with Hermione drifting behind him and wearing a curiously blank expression.
Tonks took this in. "Poor thing, she's in shock. Look at her."
"Yes, well, Snape likely told her that we're all going to die, so I'm not surprised," said Remus as he brushed dirt out of his horse's mane.
"Mount up," barked Snape, setting a foot in his stirrup and swinging easily into the saddle. "Granger...you don't have a horse, do you?"
"No, sir," Hermione said, seeming to recover from her stupor.
"Black, have you seen any other horses about this place?" Snape shouted over as Sirius settled atop his own horse.
"No, I haven't," Sirius replied scornfully. "My bet is that the Muggles took all of them when they shipped out last night or earlier this morning."
Snape growled, then fixed his gaze back on the girl standing below. "Climb up," he ordered, sliding backwards a bit in the saddle. "And hold on—should you fall off, I have no intention of returning for you." He slid on his helmet and buckled it under his chin as Hermione grabbed the crest of the saddle and struggled up to seat herself in front of him.
She had barely taken hold of the horse's mane when Snape slammed down the visor of his helm and circled a fist in the air; a frightened yelp wrenched from her throat as all seven horses leapt forward at once and took off at a gallop.
Once Hermione's initial fear faded, she began to enjoy it. Snape's breastplate was hard and cold as it bumped against her shoulders, the smell of steel and leather strong as the large black stallion snorted and pounded the earth with powerful hooves. He seemed eager to run, this horse; he was big and strong and vibrant with life, completely unafraid of what lay ahead. He merely trusted his rider to steer him where they needed to go, and he would take them there.
They rode fast into the thick pine forest fringing the town, where the earth was soft with black soil and the shade-cooled air smelled of spicy sap. Hermione felt Snape's grip on the reins relax. "Kingsley!" he called, and motioned ahead.
Out of the corner of her eye Hermione saw Kingsley pull something out of his gauntlet—it looked remarkably like the makeshift wand from home—and intone the words "Expecto Patronum!"
There was a flash of bluish-silver light as something streaked past Snape's horse; Hermione looked incredulously after what looked to be a ghostly lynx pouncing through the trees. "To the hunt!" roared Snape, and dug his spurs into the stallion's flanks. They jolted forward with renewed fervor and the other Order members were close behind.
They tore after the lynx which Kingsley has conjured until another movement caught Hermione's attention—a herd of deer grazing in a clearing. Suddenly she understood the purpose. "Now, Jones!" Snape commanded, and Hermione craned around to see that Hestia Jones had nocked an arrow into a yew bow and had it trained on the herd. In that heartbeat she let fly, and the deadly projectile whistled its flight path straight into the rib cage of a large buck. The animal crumpled without a sound.
"Nice one, Hestia!" cried Sirius Black in appreciation. They slowed their headlong charge as the rest of the herd ran away into the forest, and Snape tugged his stallion to a halt at the edge of the clearing. He dismounted with the other knights and they grouped around the dead buck; again, Kingsley did something with his wand, and the corpse vanished into thin air. Hestia Jones accepted the praise of her company with a grateful smile and returned Snape's curt nod of acknowledgment.
"Kingsley created that lynx to lead you to the herd," Hermione said as Snape settled into the saddle behind her.
With a grunt he took up the reins and swung the horse around. "That is a charm called a Patronus," he told her. "It is traditionally used to banish evil spirits, but it can also lead people to places."
They rode back to town in silence, where Hermione slid somewhat clumsily from the saddle and Snape dismounted gracefully to stride over and join the others. "How much is there?" he asked Kingsley.
"Split among eight, I would say about a month of venison...longer if we salt and dry it."
"What about a Stasis Charm?" Snape questioned.
Kingsley nodded. "Or that."
Snape thought for a moment and then decided, "Salt and dry half, put the other half under Stasis." The group set to work, and Hermione approached the man in dark armor.
"What am I supposed to do? I'm here to help, am I not?"
Snape's mouth twitched. "You will do more to help by keeping away from our work for now," he said. "Go ask Nymphadora if she has anything for you."
Obediently the young woman made her way over to Tonks, who was looking critically at a length of bloodstained cloth. "Hello, Tonks. Snape wants me to help you."
"Oh does he?" Tonks pursed her lips. "I suppose this will be your introduction to healing magic, then. Do you remember what it felt like the last time you did magic?"
Hermione swallowed. "Tingly...powerful. I don't know, that's the best way I can describe it," she finished lamely. "I was a bit emotional, though."
"No, that's just what I was looking for," Tonks assured her. "I've heard you want to practice healing, yes?" Hermione nodded. "Then this is the perfect position for you to take." She rummaged in her saddlebag and pulled out another bag, this one smaller and riddled with pockets of all shapes and sizes. "This is a Potions bag, where we keep all the salves and tonics that Snape brews. They will be your go-to in any situation."
"Wait...Snape brews potions?" Hermione echoed dumbly, holding the beaded bag.
Tonks laughed lightly. "Of course, didn't you know he's a Master Potioneer and Alchemist by trade when he's not fighting for the Order? I suppose not. But you do now, so there."
Hermione listened for over an hour as Tonks talked her through some basic healing remedies, both Muggle and magical. She learned that raw emotion was the greatest outlet for magical energy, and how to channel that energy through her body and out her palm to seal small open wounds. She asked about a wand; Tonks said that wands were simply tools to help for channeling energy, but let her go back into the house and fetch hers.
"Oh, this little stick will never do," Tonks criticized as she looked over Hermione's makeshift instrument. "One of these days we can stop in by Ollivander and get you something worthy."
Hermione wanted to ask who Ollivander was, but they were interrupted by Snape's deep growl. "Nymphadora, it would seem that your husband's horse has thrown a shoe, and he requires your help."
Tonks flashed Hermione a warm smile before getting to her feet and going to Remus. Hermione looked owlishly up at Snape's towering figure. "Did you need something?" she asked innocently.
"I was simply wondering what she has been teaching you," he replied levelly. "I felt magic in the air—new magic. I know the feeling of everyone's in this troupe, so I suspected you had found the channel for yours."
She shrugged. "It's still spotty."
"And so it will be for quite some time, but at least you are competent enough to do the basics." It seemed like a backhanded compliment of sorts, but Hermione dared not push further. Snape called Sirius over and told him to find Hermione a horse for the next morning. The scraggly-bearded man seemed grudging, but he rode out of the empty town promptly.
Snape addressed Hermione: "I expect you to practice your magic with Nymphadora every day. There is no room for lacking skill here. You are free to do as you please for the rest of the day, but return to your house at dusk and get a full nights' rest. We move out at cock-crow tomorrow—and I will not be waking you," he added venomously. "Should you fail to make the deadline, you will be the only one left here."
"I understand," Hermione assured him. "I'll be there."
"You had better be." Snape clinked away, his cloak swishing on the ground.
Gazing after him, Hermione wondered if this ragtag and dysfunctional seven-person army was really going to be the one to destroy the Dark Lord Voldemort.