March 7, 2003 (Hermione)
"Wildcat, this is Otter. If you receive this transmission, I will be at Ground Zero tomorrow at 0930 for an important mission. I may require an extraction if things go wrong. Contact Team Alpha and tell them to be ready for action in the area. I will be in touch soon. Otter out."
Hermione strode briskly and confidently through downtown London, looking straight ahead, her disguised face wearing an expression of serene calm. All around her were employees on their way to work for the day – witches and wizards in their formal robes, marching down the high street together. The main roads were reserved for them now; Muggles were relegated to the winding side streets, not permitted to mingle with the elites of society. Ferrymen lined the roads, patrolling, ensuring that the superior magical race made it to their destination safely.
Hermione glanced up as they passed the Black Tower, looming large above Britain. Carved of enchanted stone and rising thousands of feet into the air, it was a mammoth landmark, erected overnight by the Dark Lord as a reminder of his dominance over the lowly peons below. Heavy clouds obscured the very top of the tower, where Voldemort himself resided – clouds, Hermione knew, that were formed by patrolling Dementors, ensuring a pervading sense of gloom and doom for all below. She ignored the creeping cold tickling her mind and pressed forward with the crowd.
The mass of people split into two as employees of the Tower turned off towards their destination. Security was tighter there, and more Ferrymen stood idly by, watching for odd behavior. Fortunately, the Tower was not Hermione's destination – not today. She continued forward with the majority of the crowd, headed a few blocks further downtown to the Ministry of Magic.
It was no longer the concealed underground facility it once was. The entrance was opulent and gaudy, drawing all eyes with its great glass-domed entrance in the middle of what was once the Muggle business district. Hermione eyed the great golden statue rising high within the dome, over fifty feet tall: a tall, handsome wizard, posing majestically in his splendid robes as a multitude of people bowed at his feet. Muggles, naturally, dressed in rags and looking up with wonder at the superior being lording over them. Above the statue, a great flashing marquee declared the new official motto of Great Britain: MAGIC IS MIGHT.
Hermione followed the crowd towards a row of fireplaces, one by one stepping through the grate and spinning away. She patiently waited her turn, keeping her expression blank and ignoring the many guards pacing between the rows, searching for anyone who didn't belong. The strategy to go unnoticed here was the opposite of a Muggle on the streets: you had to blend in by being loud and confident in your movement, to send the signal that you are important and not to be trifled with. No Ferryman would risk harassing such a person, for fear that they actually have the power to punish their abuses of power.
Hermione reached the front of the line and stepped into the spinning flames. Moments later she appeared in the Ministry Atrium, its black-stoned floors and vaulted ceilings unchanged as ever. She continued forward, past yet more Ferrymen watching like a hawk, daring them with her confident aura to stop her. Fortunately, no one did, and she arrived at the security stand.
"Place your wand in the receptacle," the bored security wizard said when she reached the front of the line. Hermione reached into her robes for her wand, but as she moved to place it in the identification device, she pointed the tip at it and thought, Confundus. She then placed her wand in and watched as the security wizard frowned at the device.
"Odd," he muttered, smacking the side of it. "Bloody thing's not working…"
"Is there a problem?" Hermione asked sharply, raising an eyebrow in mock displeasure. The security wizard looked up at her, eyes resting on the silver badge pinned to her breast. The one that signaled she was a high-ranking official.
"S-sorry, ma'am," he stammered. "It'll be only a moment."
"I have a meeting with Thicknesse in ten minutes," Hermione said. "Perhaps you'd care to explain to him why I am late?"
The security wizard blanched; he punched a button, and Hermione's wand spat back out of the receptacle. "Have a good day, ma'am," he said, bowing slightly. Hermione grabbed her wand and continued on into the Ministry. She released a slow, relieved breath...she was in. Now it was a matter of completing what she came here to do, then getting the hell out before anyone asked too many questions.
Hermione stepped onto the nearest lift, which was only half-full. "Administration Level, please," she said loudly, and a wizard near the controls punched the button for her. She realized with a jolt that she recognized the man: Seamus Finnigan, her former classmate. His back was hunched and his face was weathered by years of hardship, and he avoided eye contact with everyone else in the lift. As a half-blood, he was technically permitted to be a part of wizarding society, but he was still considered lesser – still faced nearly as much harassment as the Muggles outside these halls. Hermione desperately wanted to reassure him that she was still fighting, that this war was not lost yet, but she didn't dare.
Hermione stepped out at her level and strode quickly down the hall. She didn't know exactly where she was going, but she kept her pace brisk, rapidly taking in the passing signs and placards to get her bearings. Department of Muggle Government Regulation...Department of Muggle Crimes Against Wizards...Department of Information Control...she paused at a juncture, staring around, unsure where to go.
A large poster caught her eye in a nearby window. Hermione approached it slowly, eyes narrowed in vague recognition, then nearly toppled over in surprise. It was a photograph of her – but not one she had ever seen before. Her eyes were closed, blood dripping down her face from the eyelids, as she hovered menacingly in midair. Her hair stood on end, crackling with static electricity, and currents of black energy spread from her fingertips. Even Hermione had to admit it was a terrifying sight – her desperate escape from the Manchester Enclave had forced her to resort to a spectacular display of power to catch her pursuers off-guard.
But the caption underneath the photo surprised her even more. "HERMIONE GRANGER: UNDESIRABLE NO. 1". Number one? she thought, perplexed. Surely Harry would be number one...Voldemort has wanted him dead for years. He's still out there somewhere...we would have heard something by now if he wasn't...so why am I now the Ministry's top priority? It didn't make a ton of sense to her – though judging from the ominous photo, perhaps recent events had brought fear to someone high up in the ranks, and they wanted to deal with her as soon as possible.
"Can I help you?" a voice called out from her right. Hermione turn to see a tall wizard in handsome gray robes leering at her from the doorway of the office she was staring at. Hermione's heart dropped – an Auror.
Your cover isn't blown yet, she reminded herself. Play it cool. "Yes, actually," she said curtly. "I'm looking for the Department of Magical Youth Registration. I have a meeting with the Director this morning."
The Auror frowned at her. "I believe he's in a conference with Thicknesse at the moment," he said. "Are you sure you have the right time…?"
"Yes, I'm just a bit early," Hermione said quickly. "Can you point me to his office? I can wait there."
"It's just down the hall to the left," the Auror said, pointing in the right direction. "Are you certain you wouldn't rather wait in the lobby…?"
"No thank you," Hermione smiled. "I have some work to complete first anyway. Thank you for your help...Hopkins." She noted the name badge pinned to his breast, nodding politely. He returned the gesture, returning to his office. Hermione hurried down the hall towards her destination, continuing to keep up the appearance that she knew where she was going.
Finally, she located the correct department. Employees worked tirelessly at their desks, paying her no mind; Hermione strode past the rows towards the back, where she assumed the Director's office would be. She finally located it; the door was locked and the lights were out inside. Hermione stole a look around the room; it appeared nobody was paying her much mind. But better safe than sorry. She silently activated the Sight and closed her eyes to feel the magic in the room.
And it was a good thing she did. She detected an Anti-Tampering Ward erected around the door, which would no doubt alert the Director if anyone tried to break in. Hermione ran her fingers through the threads of magic, wondering how best to disentangle them and deactivate the ward. She decided that would be too complicated and consume too much of her magic, so she simply pushed the ward to the side, safely out of the way on the nearby window. She then wordlessly unlocked the door and slipped inside, unseen, shutting it behind her.
Hermione glanced about the space. The desk was cluttered with documents, and a large map of Britain was pinned to the wall. Pins were placed at key locations on the map, which she assumed marked suspected locations of Muggle-born enclaves. Hermione saw green pins over Manchester and Liverpool, confirming her suspicions that both locations had been discovered. The others all thankfully remained red – they had narrowed down the city, but not the enclave itself yet. We're running out of time, Hermione thought as she studied the map. But it's not out yet.
Hermione turned her attention to the rest of the room. A large file cabinet sat in the corner, with a placard that read RECORDS. She quickly opened it and began rifling through folders within. The cabinet appeared to contain case files, each pertaining to a different location of suspected Muggle-borns being sheltered. The locations were alphabetized, and Hermione began to pull out case files and skim them for information…
CAMBRIDGE: Searched NW & SW quadrants with no luck. Questions F. and G. Weasley, who promised to keep an eye out. No leads yet.
LIVERPOOL: Apprehended H. Abbott w/ group of underage magic thieves. Captured & euthanized 21 of suspected 50 children. Abbott remains at-large.
LONDON: No new leads. Suspected large group somewhere in SW/SE quadrants. H. Granger top suspect, wanted for questioning. Top search priority.
Hermione's heart sank at the news of the Liverpool children. She knew chances were slim that they would survive, but hearing confirmation of their deaths still tore a hole in her heart. It only decreased the odds that the Manchester children had made it. But she still had to know for sure. She reached the end of the top drawer and moved down to the next to resume her search...
"Who the bloody hell are you?"
Hermione froze. She had foolishly kept her back to the door while perusing the file cabinet, and hadn't noticed when someone entered the room. She slowly turned, heart hammering, mind racing with excuses she could use to talk her way out of this jam. But her brain went numb when she saw the Director standing in the doorway. He wore a neatly-pressed purple Ministry uniform, adorned with silver pins and stripes that indicating his high ranking. Hermione almost didn't recognize him at first, but the flaming red hair and light blue eyes were a dead giveaway.
"Y-you," she said weakly.
"Do we know each other?" asked Ron Weasley. "What are you doing in my office?"
"I...I was sent by Mulciber," Hermione stammered, thinking quickly. "To check on the progress with the raids."
Ron's eyes narrowed. "Mulciber was killed in the Manchester sting last week," he frowned. His hand hovered over his hip, where his wand was no doubt hidden from sight.
Hermione's heart sank; of all the names she could have chosen, she picked the one she had blindly killed during her desperate escape from the rubble of the enclave. "Huh," she said nervously. "I th-thought it was him, but maybe I was mistaken—"
"You have five seconds to explain yourself before I call for security," Ron warned.
Hermione didn't know what to do. She didn't want to have to hex Ron; it would attract far too much attention and make her escape incredibly difficult. She was surrounded by Aurors and Ferrymen on all sides. Desperate, and seeing no other option, she sighed and wordlessly dropped her glamour, allowing Ron to see who she really was.
Ron nearly toppled over in shock. "Hermione?!" he hissed. "What...how…?"
"Please, Ronald," she pleaded with him. "I can explain everything. Just give me a chance."
Ron stared at her, wide-eyed, rooted to the spot. Then, seeming to come to his senses, he quickly shut the door behind him and drew the blinds so that no passers-by could look in and see the fugitive in his office.
"What are you doing in the Ministry?" he demanded in a hushed tone. "Do you realize how much danger you're in?"
"Of course I do; I've seen the posters," Hermione snapped. "I had to find out what happened to the children at Manchester. To the Creeveys."
"The Creeveys are dead," Ron said, without a trace of emotion. "Made it halfway to Azkaban before they plotted an escape, but they didn't make it far. Probably a better fate in the end."
Hermione nodded sullenly; she too would probably choose death over a lifetime of horrors behind bars at Azkaban. "And the children?" she asked, trying not to get too hopeful.
"In the tower," said Ron. "I don't know what happens to them from there. It's outside my jurisdiction."
Hermione wasn't sure whether to be relieved or dismayed by this news. The children could still be saved after all...but what horrors awaited them inside the Black Tower? She'd heard of many Muggles and Muggle-borns taken inside, and none were ever heard from again. She shuddered at the thought.
"Hermione…" Ron continued, stepping forward cautiously. "This can't continue. You know the Ferrymen will keep hunting you until they find your hiding spot. The Dark Lord wants you dead at any cost—"
"I have children to protect, Ron," Hermione said. "What would you have me do?"
"Run," he said sternly. "Get as far away from Britain as you can. There's nothing but trouble here for you now."
"I can't abandon the children," said Hermione defiantly. "I have to stay and look out for anyone who needs protection. And...and I need to be here when Harry comes back."
Ron gave her an incredulous look. "You don't seriously believe he's still alive?" he scoffed. "Even the Dark Lord has given up on Potter ever showing his face again. Give it up, Hermione, he's not coming back."
"I don't believe that," Hermione said quietly. "I can't."
Ron considered her for a moment. "Listen," he sighed. "I can protect you. I have a place you can stay...I'm high enough rank now that the Ferrymen won't bother me at home. You can change your name and appearance, we can forge you a family tree…"
Hermione stared at Ron in disbelief. She recognized the look in his eyes: the same one he'd given her at the wedding. The quiet desperation, the fleeting hope that he still had a future with her. "You can't be serious," she breathed. "After what you did."
Ron's expression fell. "You can't still be mad about that," he muttered. "You've no idea the power of the Dark Lord. What would you have me do, let him kill me and my entire family?"
"I'd sooner die than hand him the war on a silver platter," Hermione spat. "You have no idea how far back you set us—"
"Easy for you and Harry to say," said Ron. "You two don't have family to worry about. I did what I had to do to protect them."
"That's where you're wrong," Hermione glared. "I do have a family to worry about. And I'll do whatever it takes to protect my children."
She struck without warning; Ron reached for his wand, but her Stunning Spell hit him squarely in the chest before he could raise it in defense. He fell to the floor with a loud crash; Hermione could only hope that her hasty Muffling Charm on the door had been erected quickly enough to avoid drawing attention.
She had to move quickly now. She returned to the filing cabinet and grabbed the folder on the Manchester Enclave, duplicating it with a Protean Charm and stuffing the copy down her blouse. She then twirled her wand to lift Ron up off the floor, carefully levitating him over to his chair and depositing him there, bending him over the desk so it looked like he was sleeping. She quickly tidied up the room to remove anything that looked amiss and turned to leave.
She paused at the door. As much as she despised Ron in this moment, she knew he would be killed if it was discovered that he offered Hermione assistance. So she turned and pointed her wand at him and muttered, "Obliviate." She removed his memories of the past few minutes and replaced them with a false memory of an unseen assailant Stunning him as soon as he entered his office. Then, she re-applied her glamour and hastily exited the office.
To her horror, someone was there to meet her as soon as she left – the Auror named Hopkins. "Is Weasley in there?" he demanded. "I need to see him urgently."
"Erm...yes, but he's fallen ill," Hermione stammered, thinking quickly. "I would give him a few moments to recompose himself." Then she hurried away, feeling Hopkins' suspicious gaze following her from the department. It was only a matter of moments now before Ron was discovered unconscious and somebody sounded the alarm. She had to put as much distance between herself and the danger as possible.
Hermione fast-walked to the nearest lift and crammed her way in despite it being full. The doors clanged shut, and the lift began to descend back towards the Atrium. It paused a couple of times to deposit employees at their various departments, and each time Hermione was certain somebody would rush in and grab her. She quietly made her way to the back of the lift car, hoping to draw as few eyes on her as possible.
Finally, the lift made its final stop and began to descend towards its final destination at the Atrium. I may just get out of this yet, Hermione thought. Then, to her horror, the lift shuddered to a stop, and a far-off alarm began to sound.
"THE MINISTRY IS UNDER LOCKDOWN," an automated voice blared over a loudspeaker. "ALL EMPLOYEES ARE TO REMAIN WHERE THEY ARE UNTIL A SEARCH CAN BE CONDUCTED."
The other occupants of the lift car groaned loudly at this. "Third time this month," somebody grumbled. "What, do they think Granger is just gonna waltz in here or something?"
The other employees chuckled appreciatively at this. Hermione's mind raced, trying to think of a way out of this spot. Surely the lift wouldn't be operational again until a Ferryman could intercept it and check all of the occupants. She doubted her simple glamour would be enough to fool a thorough search effort, especially with so many witnesses. She had to find a way out of this lift, and quickly – ideally without raising suspicion.
Only one idea came to mind, and it was a risky one. Fortunately, all eyes were facing forward and she was alone in her corner. She closed her eyes and silently transfigured her clothes into an official Ministry uniform, recreating the silver pins and stripes she'd seen on Ron's own robes. Then, she stepped forward to the front of the lift, roughly pushing other occupants aside.
"I do not have time for this," she snapped, putting on her best high-and-mighty voice. Then, she aimed her wand at the lift control panel. The lift began to move again, descending towards the Atrium at normal speed.
"Are you sure this is wise, ma'am?" a familiar voice spoke up from behind her. "They told us to stay put." Hermione turned and nearly lost her composure at the sight of Percy Weasley eyeing her with trepidation.
"Are you questioning my authority, Weasley?" she said coldly. "I would hate for your family to come under scrutiny again."
Percy went red in the face at this and dropped his head in submission. Hermione turned back towards the front, willing the lift to move faster, willing the Atrium to not be flooded with Ferrymen…
The lift dinged as they finally arrived, and the doors clanged open. Hermione strode confidently out of the car and across the marble floors of the Atrium. There were still dozens of Ministry workers here, but everything had crawled to a halt as Ministry workers moved from person to person checking identities.
"Hey, you!" a crude voice shouted after Hermione; she turned to see a Ferryman march up to her. "What is your business on this level?"
"I could ask you the same," Hermione sneered, looking the man up and down in what she hoped was a disdainful manner. The Ferryman took note of her uniform and seemed to take the hint that she had authority over him, though he still didn't look pleased about it.
"Sorry to disturb you, ma'am, but we're s'posed to clear everyone before anyone goes in or out," the man sighed. "So if you don't mind—"
"Why do you think I'm here?" Hermione demanded. "They've sent me to help clear the Atrium. Apparently they don't believe you can handle the task yourselves."
The Ferryman reddened at this comment, but it had the intended effect of directing his anger elsewhere. "We were handlin' it just fine..." he muttered.
"I'm sure you were," Hermione said snidely. "Come with me; we must see to the Floo Network." And she strode confidently across the Atrium again, with the nonplussed Ferryman scurrying along in her wake.
Fortunately, now that she had an escort with her, nobody seemed willing to bother her. She drew the eye of several other Ferryman along her way, but they all returned to whatever they were doing. It's actually working, Hermione thought, heart still thumping in her chest. She was halfway across the room now, the fireplaces that would be her escape just within sight. I might get out of here unscathed after all…
Hermione approached the security stand, where two security wizards stood guard. "Stand aside," she ordered them. "We have orders to secure the Floo Network."
"We're not to let anyone through until the lockdown is lifted," one of the guards told her.
"Are you questioning my authority?" Hermione growled, stepping closer to the man in a threatening manner so that he could see the stripes on her uniform indicating her rank.
"I don't care what your rank is," the guard sneered. "You ain't getting through until the lockdown is lifted."
"Let her through, Farrow," the other guard suddenly stepped in. "She has special clearance."
The first guard named Farrow turned in disbelief. "Says who?" he demanded.
"Says the manifest," the first guard said. "I wouldn't trifle with her; she could cause us a lot of trouble for stopping her."
The first guard seemed torn. Neither he nor the Ferrymen at Hermione's side had noticed the silent Confunding Charm she had cast on the second guard, nor his vaguely distant expression. Finally, the first guard decided it wasn't worth the trouble. "Fine," he said, stepping aside. "Hurry along then."
Hermione walked passed him towards the narrow choke point separating the Atrium from the fireplace network. She could see no visible obstruction in her path, save for a light shimmer in the air that she assumed was some sort of trigger to indicate whenever someone passed in or out. No matter. Hermione and the Ferryman walked forward past the checkpoint and through the shimmering air.
She realized her mistake almost at once. It was as though she temporarily could not breathe; she lurched forward, coughing, regaining her breath. When she righted herself, she saw the look of horror on the Ferryman's face, and knew what had happened. The Thief's Downfall, she thought. She had read about it before – one of the many defenses used to defend Gringotts. All magical enchantments and concealments were exposed – including her glamour. She was no longer disguised.
The Ferryman backed away in shock. "G-Granger!" he stammered. Then, he turned to shout: "GRANGER! I'VE FOUND GR—"
Hermione blasted the man with a Stunning Spell, but it was too late. Every eye had turned her way, including the dozen or so guards standing between her and the Floo grates. She had no hope of sneaking out now. It was time to fight.
"Freeze!" several guards shouted at her, aiming their wands. Hermione quickly closed her eyes and activated the Sight, reaching out into the streams of magic filling the space. She reached and reached until she found the fire magic lying dormant in the grates, waiting to be activated. She pulled them towards herself, then unleashed it with as much force as she could.
Shouts of surprise and pain rang out as fire consumed the area, forcing the guards to put up hasty Shield Charms to avoid getting burned to a crisp. Hermione threw up the strongest shield she could and ran through the blazing inferno, relying on the Sight to guide her. She sensed the teleportation magic nearby, the magic that powered the Floo, and ran blindly towards it. She heard spells whizzing over her head but had no time to slow down or alter her trajectory. It was now or never.
Hermione glimpsed the urn of Floo Powder to her left and quickly summoned it to her. She grabbed a pinch in her hand and dove headlong into a grate, praying that it would remain active long enough to take her away. "The Leaky Cauldron!" she shouted, throwing the powder, and to her relief she felt the spinning sensation that told her the Floo had taken her away.
She was spit out on the other side unceremoniously, skidding to a halt inside the pub, covered in soot. There were cries of alarm as patrons leapt back at her arrival. Hermione knew she didn't have long before she was followed. She stumbled to her feet and spun on the spot to Apparate away, but merely fell back to the ground awkwardly. No, she thought with terror. They've already put the wards up.
Already she could hear the pops of Apparition as Ferrymen arrived outside the pub. "Hermione Granger!" a voice called out. "Come out with your hands up, or you will be killed!"
Panicking, Hermione turned back towards the fireplace, but the fire inside was glowing a hot red. They've shut off the Floo behind me, she realized. She glanced out the window to see several dozen Ferrymen out in the street, all with their wands pointed at the Leaky Cauldron. She was surrounded.
Hermione's mind raced. She had depleted much of her magic during her escape from the Atrium, and didn't think she had enough left to fight her way out. Now that they had positively identified her, the Ministry would spare no resource in making sure she was captured, dead or alive. It wouldn't be as simple as the smoke-and-mirrors tricks she had used in Manchester. She was in real trouble.
There was only one option left. One she had hoped not to have to use yet – not until Harry returned. He's not coming back, she told herself. Ron's words had stung, but maybe he was right. It's just me. I have to lead this war. And it's starting today, with or without Harry.
She rummaged through her bag, searching for something. She finally located it and powered it on: a Muggle cell phone. She scrolled through her contacts until she found the correct name and pressed the phone to her ear. Please pick up, she thought desperately. Please, please, please…
On the third ring, the line connected. "Hello?" the voice said uncertainly on the other side.
"Wildcat?" Hermione breathed into the receiver. "It's Otter. I need you."
"Hermione?" cried Ginny at the other end. "What's happened? Where are you?"
"The Leaky Cauldron," Hermione breathed. "It's time for Operation Lightning Strike."
There was silence at the other end. "Are you sure?" Ginny said nervously. "You know there's no turning back once we—"
"I know that, Ginny!" said Hermione. "It's now or never."
"Alright," said Ginny. "I'll send the word. How long do you have?"
"Not long," said Hermione. "Maybe two minutes."
"Better make it five," said Ginny grimly, and the line went dead. Hermione pocketed the phone and risked another peek out the window. The number of Ferrymen outside the pub was only growing, and they were slowly advancing towards the door. Hermione didn't have five minutes. Not unless she could buy herself some time artificially.
Hermione pointed her wand at her throat, and muttered, "Sonorous." Then she angled herself to project her amplified voice at the windows. "Everyone stay back!" she said, and she heard the shuffling footsteps outside freeze. "I'm armed!"
"So are we, Granger!" a voice sneered. "You have thirty seconds to come out with your hands up, or we start firing."
"I have hostages!" Hermione said, glancing at the pub patrons cowering in the corner nearby. "Stay back, or I kill them all!"
There was a brief pause at this. "The Dark Lord cares not about casualties," the Ferryman shouted back. "Their deaths matter not as long as you lie among them."
Of course they wouldn't care about casualties, Hermione thought bitterly. They would level the entire block if it meant finishing me off. She would have to try a different tactic to keep the Ferryman occupied until Ginny could get the word out…
"I have names!" she shouted. "If you let me go, I can give up the names of my partners!"
"The Dark Lord only wants you," said the Ferryman. "We are not interested in this information—"
"There are over a thousand Muggle-borns hidden across Britain," Hermione said, "and I know where all of them are. I will...I will hand them over to you, if you just let me go."
That certainly got the attention of the Ferrymen. "Where are they, then?" one of them demanded.
"There are fifty-three in Manchester," said Hermione quickly. "Protected by Colin and Dennis Creevey."
"You think we're stupid?" the Ferryman scoffed. "We captured them weeks ago!"
"And two hundred in Liverpool," Hermione went on. "Protected by Hannah Abbott."
Again there was a pause. "We caught twenty of 'em last month," the Ferryman said dubiously. "You say there are...two hundred?"
"Two hundred and seventeen, to be exact," Hermione lied. "I can tell you exactly where the rest are hidden."
"We have been combing the city for weeks," the Ferryman said begrudgingly. "Tell us where they are, and we may let you live."
"They are at 35 Windsor Lane," Hermione said, making up the first address she could think of. "Under an old Calvinist church, on the south side of town."
The Ferrymen seemed to be conferring amongst themselves. "We will send people to verify that claim," the leader said. "Now come out peacefully, and we can discuss the locations of the others."
"How do I know you won't kill me on sight?" Hermione called out. "I want some kind of guarantee."
"No guarantees," the Ferryman snarled. "Come out now or we will destroy the Leaky Cauldron and everyone inside it."
"Then you'll never know where the others are!" Hermione cried. "I swear, I can tell you where they all are hiding—"
"Last chance, Granger," the leader snarled. "I'm going to count to ten, and if you aren't out here you will be destroyed."
Hermione's mind raced as the Ferryman began to count down. She was all out of gambits. All except for one.
"Wait!" she said as the leader reached the count of eight. "Harry Potter! I can give you Harry Potter!"
There were nervous chuckles from the gathered crowd at this. "Potter is dead," the Ferryman scoffed. "The Dark Lord is convinced of it."
"He's alive!" Hermione cried. "And he's here, in Britain. Plotting the Dark Lord's downfall. And I know where he is."
The Ferrymen seemed unsure of what to do. "Then tell us," the leader said skeptically.
"Not until you guarantee my safety," said Hermione. "Otherwise his secret dies with me."
Silence fell again. Hermione reached out with the Sight to listen to their hushed conversation with an Extension Charm.
"What if she's telling the truth?"
"We can't trust her. She's just trying to save her own skin."
"But if it IS true...if Potter is truly out there—"
"It matters not. Our orders are clear: capture or kill Granger at all costs."
"Fine. But it's your ass if you're wrong."
"I'm not. Potter is a myth. Now fall back in line and prepare to attack."
That was bad news. Hermione knew her time had run out. She would have to fight now and hope for the best. She readied herself for the incoming battle, trying to envision a scenario in which she survives…
Then she heard it. The sound of distant voices, approaching from somewhere unseen. She dared another peek out the window, and the Ferrymen had turned their attention to the street. They appeared nervous by the appearance of something. Hermione leaned back in to her Extension Charm:
"The hell is this? Muggles?"
"Tell them to bugger off."
"OI, YOU LOT! CLEAR OUT!"
But Hermione could hear a great swell of angry voices nearby. She craned her neck as much as she could to peer down the street, and saw a large mob of angry Muggles, each brandishing a firearm. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end; even as a witch, it was a formidable sight. The Ferrymen didn't seem to realize the danger they were in, shouting at the Muggles to disperse as though they were cockroaches to be squashed.
"Clear the streets now or be executed!" a Ferryman shouted. "The Dark Lord will not stand for—"
He was drowned out by the overwhelming roar of gunfire. The Ferrymen, not recognizing what they were up against, threw up Shield Charms, but they were quickly punctured by the hail of bullets and cut down to the street. A few managed to survive by conjuring thick walls to defend themselves, but it took only a matter of seconds for the majority of them to be wiped out.
Hermione dashed to the door. She knew the element of surprise would help the Muggle forces tremendously, but once the wizards wised up to what was happening, the tide would shift dramatically. She summoned as much of her remaining magic as she could and erected a steel barrier before herself and dashed out into the street. Bullets pinged off the wall as surprised Muggles took aim, but she quickly crossed over to the building across the street and dove inside.
She cut her way through to the back, blasting down walls and doors in her path, and emerged in a back alleyway. She heard the fierce chaos of warfare happening on all sides as Muggles and Ferrymen clashed, the smell of smoke and blood rising in the air. She had to find a way out of the Anti-Disapparation wards before her magic was depleted.
Hermione turned right, away from the majority of the noise, and began running down the alleyway. The sound of gunfire directed her path, desperately searching for a path through the chaos, away from the bloodshed happening just out of sight. She glanced over her shoulder to ensure she was not being followed…
...And she ran directly into somebody. Hermione crashed to the ground, quickly stumbling to her feet and aiming her wand at the offending party: "Ginny!" she exclaimed, helping the redhead to her feet. "You made it!"
"What the hell is going on?" Ginny demanded, flinching instinctively as an explosion rocked the next street over. "Are we fighting, or not?"
"We're running," Hermione corrected. "We have to get out of here before the Ferrymen find me. I have stolen information—"
"Bombarda maxima!" Ginny bellowed, wand aimed over Hermione's shoulder; there was a loud bang as a nearby wall exploded, obstructing the path of two wizards sprinting in their direction. "No need to tell me twice. Lead the way, Otter."
Hermione led Ginny down more alleyways, doing her best to keep her head low and avoid attention. Every time they passed a junction she saw more fighting and destruction; the entire area had descended into chaos, with armed Muggle forces clashing with wizards who had finally begun to fight back. The sound of gunfire was slowly being replaced with more ominous sounds: the terrible scorching sound of Fiendfyre, the sickening zaps of Killing Curses flying left and right, and other nasty curses Hermione didn't want to be on the receiving end of.
They emerged at a cramped intersection, which appeared to be unmarred by the fighting thus far. Hermione and Ginny crouched beside a low wall, catching their breath as Hermione tried to get her bearings. "We must be close to the ward boundaries now," she panted. "We can Disapparate there."
"Make a run down the high road, you reckon?" Ginny suggested.
"That would be the fastest route," Hermione agreed. "Risky if we get spotted, though."
"Your call, boss," Ginny shrugged.
Just then, a group of armed Muggles rounded the corner, spotting Hermione and Ginny crouched with their wands held aloft. "Oi!" one of them exclaimed. "We got two witches over there!"
"N-no, wait," said Hermione, a feeling of dread settling in. "We're with you!"
"Citizens against witchcraft!" the man shouted, and the crowd roared in solidarity with the battle cry. Hermione swiftly conjured another barrier to block their incoming bullets, then dragged Ginny backwards down a different alleyway. Now they had problems on both sides: Ferrymen trying to capture their priority target, and Muggles eager to mow down any magical being they encountered. They must be close now...the wards can't have covered that many blocks…
They emerged on a new street and continued running. Scattered fighting continued throughout the area, with the vastly-outnumbered and unorganized wizards forced to retreat under the overwhelming number of the Muggle forces. Hermione spotted a Ferryman Disapparate to safety a block ahead of them, and knew they were close to escape.
Finally, mercifully, she felt the cool air shift as they passed through the invisible wards. "Time to go," Hermione said, grabbing Ginny's hand and twisting on the spot to Disapparate. The last thing she heard before they vanished was a shout of surprise and a single gunshot ringing out…
They landed in a heap in her office back at the enclave. Hermione sat up to assess herself, aside from some bumps and bruises, she appeared unscathed. She was overwhelmed with gratitude: gratitude that she was alive, that she had the information she sought, that she had the foresight to prepare a backup plan in case things went south. She had hoped to save the Muggle forces as a surprise asset for when the real war began, but it remained a successful mission in her eyes.
"You arrived just in the nick of time," Hermione quipped. "Any later and I would've been—"
She turned to Ginny and froze. The redhead lay prone on the ground, twitching slightly, blood spurting out over her face from a fresh bullet hole cut into her eye socket…
