Chapter 4


Hermione was going through the old magic's book in the common room one night when Harry came back from a meeting with Dumbledore. He looked peaky, pale, and all-in-all like he was about to go into shock. She shared a look with Ron, and they both stood to greet him. Hermione with a hug, Ron with a handshake, both promptly avoided by the Boy-Who-Lived. It was their own system to test how Harry was feeling, and it looked like he was at his worst.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione asked.

It was unlike Harry to hesitate with things like this, but Hermione watched as he seemed to freeze at the question. Finally, after a moment, he dropped his head. "I'm not supposed to tell anyone."

"What did Dumbledore say to make you think we're just anyone?" Hermione pressed, annoyed. "We're your friends Harry, we're with you through the thick and thin of it. I'm sure he knows we're a package deal."

"She's right, mate," Ron interjected. "Looks like you might need us."

Harry looked between his two friends, seeming to weight what he needed and what he was told. Finally deciding, he pulled them both out of the common room and up to the Room of Requirement. They didn't say a word, not one, until they were situated safely within the room and curled up in front of the magically-conjured fire.

"Dumbledore has a task for me," Harry started off by explaining. "He showed me memories he's been collecting . . ."

Harry went on to describe the first memory, his memory of Tom Riddle in the orphanage. Hermione was analyzing it for relevant information, but at the same time . . . this boy had grown an unwanted product of a love potion and stuck in an orphanage where all they did was stoke his violent tendencies through isolation or cruelty. Almost like Draco the other night, she had humanized the enemy and she knew it. Even though she felt the pity, she kept it locked tightly away and said nothing to Harry.

There was little Harry didn't share with Hermione and Ron. Every memory, his job to perform with Slughorn, and the horcruxs. At the mention of that dark magic, Hermione felt her guilt surge in her stomach. Dark magic was exactly what she was hiding from Harry and Ron. She brushed it aside though; Voldemort's horcruxs required him to kill and split his soul, and all this ritual needed was blood. If it was so common, there couldn't be an issue with it. It didn't hurt her determination. If anything, she wondered if Voldemort's power was diminished or increased by the horcruxs.

It wasn't until Harry told them how many that Hermione interrupted, more in shock than actual contribution.

"But Harry, Dumbledore can't expect you to be able to find all of them!" Hermione protested. "We don't even know what they are!"

"I know!" Harry cried in frustration. "Dumbledore knows, though. Or he has an idea. He says he's looking for them. We don't even know how many, but Dumbledore knows it's more than two. The diary was one, we know. He's convinced Slytherins locket is another one, but we have no idea where it is."

Ron looked disturbed. "Look, mate, if Voldemort has these things, he's practically unkillable. And he's expecting you to fight him?"

"Obviously not until they're all found," Hermione asserted quickly, looking to spare Dumbledore the dispersions. "That's why he's bringing you in, right Harry? He wants you to know not to face him before it's time."

Harry ran a hand through his ragged hair with a sigh. "I guess so. I just can't really process it yet, you know? I can't even process magic like this. Magic is supposed to have rules, it's supposed to make sense. You use your own power to do things that are within a certain range. This magic is just so powerful on its own . . . how do you fight if you don't know the rules? The limits? It doesn't feel like Voldemort has any."

Hermione's heart fluttered in guilt again, but this time it was for keeping her research from Harry.

"It's kind of like Dumbledore's magic, if you think about it," Hermione pointed out, testing the waters.

Both boys looked at her strangely. She raised her hands in defense.

"Not the dark bit, obviously," she justified quickly, "but there's got to be a reason they're both so powerful, doesn't there? They use magic so differently from us. Maybe it's not how they're using magic that's different, but the magic they are using."

"Blimey, Mione," Ron shuddered, "you aren't really setting Voldemort as just like Dumbledore, are you?"

"There's no way Dumbledore's like that," Harry interceded. "He has experience, that's all. Voldemort's power is dark magic, and Dumbledore's is simply true power."

Hermione took that as her answer. She wanted nothing more than to argue, to prove them wrong with the book she had concealed as a simple Charms book in her extended satchel. Still, they would never look at the ritual the way she did, which was a way to beat Voldemort. They might even view it as using dark magic, or cheating in the battle.

She felt like going to Dumbledore, in all honesty. He was one of the only people she could think of who probably did the ritual. Well, the only one that wasn't trying to kill her. He would have a fair approach to the subject and may even offer his help. But Hermione had a sinking feeling that he would discourage her pursuit, and if he did she'd go through with the ritual anyways but with the guilt of refusing the advice of Dumbledore on her mind. Or even going against a direct command from him.

No, she couldn't do that. She couldn't go to Dumbledore.

"We'll just have to keep trying, won't we?" Hermione encouraged Harry. "Of course it's a lot to take in, but we're here for the long haul. I'll do the research . . ."

"And I'll do the strategizing!" Ron quipped.

"And you'll do the leading," Hermione finished their recitation. It was the words they'd used once upon a time to convince Harry that he was doing fine with the DA, but it had been a recurring mantra over the summer. Harry could lead, if he believed they'd follow him.

"Alright guys," Harry resigned himself easily to the friendship before him. "Just . . . we need to be careful now, ok?"

"Of course, Harry."

"Will do, mate."

They went to bed that night tormented by the prospect of facing an immortal enemy, one with blood red eyes that streaked across the sky. Hermione tossed and turned in her four poster bed,tormented by the memory of Death Eaters chasing her and across the sky while she was still Polyjuiced as Harry. Then, the flash of light and the fast-paced flow of black smoke with red eyes. A wand raised directly at her, her arms leaden and dead at her sides-

Hermione bolted awake, drenched in the sweat and fear of a sleepless night. She decided then she'd never feel helpless again. She was doing the ritual. She would be able to save herself, she decided.

She studied the incantation and pronunciation well until the next morning, determined. Hermione Granger would never be helpless again.