May 12, 2003 (Hermione)
The journey back to the enclave was the easy part. Once Harry flew them beyond the wards of Azkaban, it was a simple matter of activating the Portkeys Hermione had prepared to return them home.
The real trouble began once they were safely inside.
One moment, Hermione was swaying on the spot, recovering from the disorientation of Portkey travel as the London enclave resolved itself around her. The next, she was diving out of the way as a red-headed blur launched itself past her.
"You son of a bitch!"
There was a loud crack as George Weasley was sent flying across the room and into a nearby wall. Harry stood in a defensive stance, wand drawn, eyes narrowed towards his would-be attacker. George instantly got to his feet and tried to charge Harry again, but this time he was restrained by Fred, Neville and Krum all at once.
"YOU KILLED HIM!" George roared, trying desperately to claw past his captors and pummel Harry without his wand. "YOU KILLED MY BROTHER!"
"It was him or us," Harry said coolly. "He was prepared to turn us in to the Dark Lord."
"You didn't have to kill him!" George shouted hoarsely. "You didn't have to kill any of them!"
"He grabbed Hermione," Harry growled. "I wasn't taking any chances."
Hermione wasn't sure she saw things that way. Ron hadn't exactly grabbed her, so much as he put himself between her and Harry. Foolish? Perhaps. Malicious? Certainly not.
"You wanted revenge, just admit it!" George accused Harry, pointing a threatening finger at him. "For giving you and Krum up under duress!"
"And he would have done it again in a heartbeat," Harry said. His voice had yet to rise above speaking level. "It wasn't personal, George. He chose his side and had to live with the consequences."
"Die with them, more like!" said George. "He was just doing his job, you prat!"
"And I was doing mine," Harry shrugged. "This is war, Weasley; you don't win by showing your enemies mercy."
"Mate, now's not the time," Fred said soothingly into his twin's ear. But George was still agitated; he had ceased trying to launch himself at Harry, but he was now pacing frantically, running a shaking hand through his hair, deeply distraught.
"And you?" George demanded, rounding on his little sister. "Harry just murdered your brother. What do you have to say about it?"
Ginny's face was set, weathered by years of hardship, but Hermione could see the barely-concealed emotion simmering under the surface. "I loved Ron," she said shakily. "But he chose the wrong side. We couldn't protect him any longer, Georgie. Harry's right; it was him or us."
George looked utterly lost. He threw a pleading look towards Hermione, eyes burning with pain and abandonment, like a wounded puppy dog. She tried to convey her sympathy silently, but didn't dare say a word. The nervous energy in the air was palpable, and it felt as though a deadly duel could erupt at any moment.
A rustling from the next room over interrupted the charged environment. "Baby?" called out Marianne, the young Muggle mother George had introduced Hermione to last week. "I heard you shouting...is everything okay?"
At the sight of her, George broke down. She rushed to take him in her arms as he doubled over, wracked by painful sobs. Everyone awkwardly averted their eyes as Marianne did her best to soothe him, stroking his head and gently guiding him into the next room. The sounds of George's grief gradually faded into the distance, until the door shut and plunged the main room back into awkward silence.
"Anyone else got a problem with how we survived?" Harry demanded, turning to all the others.
"Blimey, Harry," said Neville, sounding tired. "Can we not do this now?"
Hermione decided to jump on the opportunity to break the tension. "Hagrid, Viktor, why don't I show you around?" she said loudly. "And if anyone is injured, I can try to mend your wounds after I get supper going." And she gestured for Krum and Hagrid, who looked lost and fearful of the situation they'd landed themselves in, to follow her into the kitchen; they gratefully followed her.
Both men were in surprisingly good health considering the circumstances. Azkaban had kept them well-fed, and the lack of dementors meant that their minds were still perfectly intact. In fact, nobody had been injured at all during the assault, aside from a few scratches and bruises that were easily patched up. By all metrics, it had been a successful mission.
And yet, morale was extremely low. Ron's death had definitely put a damper on the mood, especially among the three Weasleys, who were all coping poorly with the loss. George was not seen for the rest of the day, sequestered away in a private room with Marianne attempting to console him. Fred looked lost without his twin by his side, resorting to restless pacing about the enclave that was putting everybody further on-edge. And Ginny seemed to be looking for a fight, jumping on every perceived slight against her and snapping whenever anyone so much as glanced at her sideways.
Harry alone seemed unperturbed by the outcome of the raid, which only made matters worse. He marched confidently around the enclave, in high spirits, openly questioning why everybody was acting so dour. "We all made it in and out unscathed!" he said more than once. "And we added two to our numbers! Why are we pretending that's a bad thing?" Hermione wanted to scream at him to show a little tact, to let the shock of the violent Ministry confrontation fade from the forefront of everyone's minds. But Harry was full steam ahead; he could see the finish line and wanted to cross it as soon as possible.
After the initial ruckus of their arrival, things were quiet around the enclave for the next few days. The wizarding papers could not keep the Azkaban assault quiet, not with so many deaths on the Ministry side. It reported that 'domestic terrorists' Harry Potter and Hermione Granger had damaged the prison and slaughtered innocent workers, but accomplished nothing further. Reading between the lines of the article, Hermione could tell that Voldemort was afraid. The tone of the article was harsh, strongly condemning the attacks and demanding order from the frightened populace. It was not business as usual in the wizarding world, and combined with the frustrated reporting of Muggle uprisings across the countryside, she could tell the end was near.
George was dead-set on leaving Britain with Marianne straight away, wanting nothing more to do with Harry. Hermione convinced him to stay long enough to coordinate the transportation of all the children out of the country, in case the upcoming attack went terribly wrong. Portkey travel out of Britain was being heavily monitored, so they would have to time it for the exact start of the attack so the Ministry would be too busy to look into it. In the meantime, all the children were moved to the twins' enclave for safekeeping, and Neville put in an anonymous tip about a couple abandoned enclaves to keep the Muggle-born Registration Office distracted for a week or two.
Slowly, Hermione came to realize why it was so oddly quiet around the enclave. More than once she walked into a room only to hear voices hush, see heads turn to awkwardly stare at her. Was she the subject of these conversations, or was she simply not welcome to hear them? Most of these moments involved Harry, who continued to view her with deep suspicion. Every time she walked into the main conference room, where strategy talks were often held, all plans and schematics had been removed, as though somebody didn't want her to see them. Was Harry planning not to include her in his plans? She tried to corner him to ask directly about this, but he seemed able to avoid this at every turn. It was like a chasm had opened up between them, and she was forced to watch his machinations from afar.
With Harry refusing to talk strategy with her, Hermione resorted to work on an important side project she'd been neglecting. Ever since the Azkaban break-in, she'd been fascinated by the rune network protecting the prison. She had dismantled it with ease, and she wondered if it was possible to use her Sight to make something even stronger. A network so powerful that it not only fulfilled the purpose it was created for, but resisted any attempts at tampering with it.
The Azkaban network had a fatal flaw: its protective runes were not protected by anything else, meaning that if they fell, the others would easily go right after. This was normally not a problem, since expert rune-breakers often needed hours if not days to decode the network and locate the protective runes in the first place, but Hermione's Sight allowed her to trace the magical signatures directly to the source without needing to even translate the symbols carved into the stones.
So how to prevent anyone from replicating her methods? Hermione had to get creative, combining her Runes knowledge with Arithmancy to build the most robust magical network she could think of. Seven was the most powerful magical number, of course, so what if she used seven protective runes in conjunction with one another, preventing the network from being disrupted but also keeping the other protective runes safe?
She immersed herself in her studies for the next few days, tuning out the rest of the enclave as she pored over old Hogwarts textbooks in search of answers. For the first time, she was painfully aware of the limitations of these texts; not only were they designed to prepare students for standardized testing, they lacked the bigger picture, the why behind the theory. Her Sight had granted her an intuition about magic that couldn't be taught in textbooks, and they couldn't explain why she saw the things that she did, why magic reacted to the runes so strongly. She felt like she was in uncharted waters, trying to steer a ship with no wheel, unsure if she was about to run aground.
She was finally interrupted in her studies one evening, as Harry caught her on the way back to her office from dinner. "Sunday," he told her simply. "We attack the Tower at dawn."
"Uh huh," Hermione said, folding her arms and waiting for more information. Harry provided none, simply looking at her expectantly, like he'd just laid everything out for her cleanly. "And?"
"And what?" said Harry. "It's just like before: follow my lead. I've got it all figured out."
"This is a bit different from Azkaban," Hermione protested. "The entire war hinges on our success this time."
"I'm well aware; thank you," Harry deadpanned. "You think I haven't thought this through? It's what I've been preparing for all these years."
"It would be nice not to be in the dark," Hermione said pointedly. "Most battles involve clear directions and objectives."
"And ours are clear," Harry said simply. "Infiltrate the Tower. Defeat You-Know-Who. What more do you want?"
Hermione sighed in frustration. If Harry wanted to be obstinate, she wasn't in the mood to bicker all night about it. "I'll contact Beckett and set up a meeting for tomorrow," she said. "It would be best if you joined us."
"You know I care very little about what the Muggles are planning," Harry said. "This is my battle to fight."
"All the same," said Hermione. "If Beckett plans to rain hellfire on the Tower at specific times, shouldn't you factor that into your own calculations? I'd hate to see you fall to a common bullet or missile strike."
"Just tell him to steer clear, then," Harry said dismissively. "He can make little distractions for us if he wishes."
"Harry, the Muggles aren't going to be easy to control," Hermione protested. "Even when we work alongside them, things go wrong. You saw what happened to Ginny when we called in reinforcements at the Leaky Cauldron."
"Fine," Harry snapped, clearly not in the mood for this conversation. "I'll come. If only to make sure Beckett doesn't meddle in the fight with the Dark Lord."
"Naturally," Hermione said dryly. "Wouldn't want anyone to steal your glory." Harry rolled his eyes at her and walked away, retreating into his private quarters for the night. Hermione watched him go with trepidation, wondering why exactly he was being so cagey with her. He was behaving erratically and impulsively – not what she wanted to see in the man planning the final confrontation of a global war. He was not the same Harry she'd last seen five years prior – something had shifted within him, changed him on a fundamental level. Whether for better or for worse, she couldn't tell yet.
The next morning after breakfast, she and Harry Apparated to the underground bunker that Beckett had made his home in recent months. The general looked worn down, like he hadn't slept properly in weeks. The arrival of the witch and wizard into his camp did little to improve his mood, and he merely beckoned them into his private tent. Hermione and Harry followed, taking up spots on either side of a large conference table. A map of Britain was laid out there, with numerous red X's peppering the landscape – presumably marking the site of various attacks over the past few weeks.
"I hope you two come with good news," Beckett said tiredly, settling into a wooden armchair with a dull thud. "Never heard from your lot after the last attack."
"We're ending the war, this weekend," Hermione said, getting straight to the point as she knew Beckett appreciated. "Sunday at dawn. We attack the Tower and kill the Dark Lord."
Beckett perked up at this news, standing to examine the table. He shifted maps around until an overview of London cropped up to the surface, a large black dot representing the Black Tower. "So this is really it, then?" he asked. "No more side missions, no more distractions? I can actually give my men a proper objective?"
"Yeah, you can," Harry piped in. "You can order them to stay the hell away while we do our business."
"Most of the fighting will occur in the top half of the Tower," Hermione supplied helpfully. "Your technology won't be able to get through the Dementor layer anyway. You can focus your attacks on the lower half."
Beckett pondered this. "We've had air support on standby for months now, with no opportunity to use them," he grumbled. "You mean to say they will be useless?"
"Not unless they can operate close to the ground," said Hermione. "Individual foot soldiers will give the defenders a more difficult time."
"They will also be easier to pick off one by one," Beckett sighed. "Your lot has gotten better at fighting ours lately. They aren't as easily to overwhelm—"
"Let's make one thing clear," Harry said menacingly. "They are not 'our lot'. They are the enemy, whether magical or otherwise."
"Be that as it may," Beckett grunted, "I've lost too many men on these wild goose chases you've sent us on. And don't forget the acts of retribution during the long stretches where we don't hear from you. My camps are being raided and slaughtered damn near every night."
"We're close to the end now," Hermione reassured him. "The Tower is all that's left now. One final assault, all we can throw at them, and we can end this war."
"That's what I like to hear," Beckett nodded. "I hoped you might say that, because I've already called in the big guns."
"Sorry?" said Hermione, confused.
Beckett signaled to one of his aides, prompting him to disappear from the tent. Moments later, the aide returned, closely followed by a new face – or rather, a familiar old one.
"No," Harry said adamantly at once. "No way. Not happening."
"Harry, my old friend, why the resistance?" beamed Senator George Rodriguez, arms outstretched in a peace offering. "We could do great things together, you and I."
"You mean I could have been your puppet for the last five years instead of saving the world," Harry snarled.
"I would never presume you to be a puppet of mine," said Rodriguez. "I want an equal partner, and I can imagine no one better than yourself."
"You? My equal?" Harry guffawed. "I want nothing to do with this man. Do whatever you want; I don't need you to defeat the Dark Lord." And without another word, he stalked out of the tent, leaving Hermione alone with Rodriguez and Beckett. A faint crack signaled his Disapparation back to the enclave, clearly uninterested in whatever the American had to say.
"And what about you, Miss Granger?" Rodriguez said without missing a beat. "Have you reconsidered my offer from all those years ago?"
"Me?" said Hermione, frowning. "I've been supporting Harry through the whole war."
"That's not what my British sources have told me," Rodriguez smirked. "You've been here on the front lines for years, while Potter sightsees around the world."
"He's been training to fight the Dark Lord!" Hermione protested. "We always planned it this way...he would get stronger, while I made sure things were ready for him to return—"
"I'm sure it started out that way," Rodriguez agreed. "Back when the Order of the Phoenix was still active and your memory of Potter was fresh. But as the years passed, surely you must have had doubts? Surely you had to make tough decisions of your own without Potter's guidance?"
"Of course!" Hermione said hotly. "But I never lost hope that he would return. All of this was for him."
"And when he did return," Rodriguez went on, "you two saw eye to eye on everything, correct? Never had a disagreement about the best path forward?"
Hermione considered this. "I'm not a yes-man," she said slowly. "Harry values my input, even when we differ in opinion."
"Does he?" Rodriguez smiled.
"Yes."
"And you're certain that he will be the best leader once the war is over?"
"...Yes."
Rodriguez smiled knowingly at her hesitant answer. "Loyalty is an admirable trait, Miss Granger," he said. "But I don't fully believe you. I believe you have your own ideas of how the world ought to operate. How to create a better society for your children."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at Rodriguez. "Harry has always championed the rights of Muggle-borns," she said coolly. "I trust him to do the right thing."
"Like he did the right thing at Azkaban?" Rodriguez countered. "He murdered dozens of people in cold blood."
"In self-defense!" Hermione protested. "You weren't there; you didn't see!"
"If you say so," Rodriguez shrugged. "All I'm suggesting is that you don't have to blindly follow along behind every decision Potter makes. Once the Dark Lord falls, Britain will be in a very precarious position. Dismantling the power structure so suddenly will cause dramatic upheaval, and it will take a delicate hand to guide the country out of danger."
"And you don't think Harry can be delicate," Hermione frowned.
"That's putting it mildly," Rodriguez chuckled.
"So what, you want me to go against Harry after the war?" Hermione asked. "Stab him in the back as repayment for saving the world?"
"I want you to provide the people a choice," Rodriguez corrected. "Harry is an excellent wartime general. He knows how to make tough decisions and sacrifices for ultimate victory. But that's not what the world needs in a peacetime leader. Perhaps you are the other side of the coin. The Muggle-born heroine who championed the powerless right under the Dark Lord's nose. Once your story becomes public, I imagine you'll be quite popular in your own right."
"You presume so much, Senator," Hermione said. "You seem so certain that we will succeed in our mission and survive the battle with the Dark Lord."
"And I have contingencies in place for such an outcome," Rodriguez winked. "I like to have all my bases covered, Miss Granger. But I think you are the best outcome. You're the leader we need to undo all the damage the Dark Lord has done."
Hermione contemplated this. She almost felt guilty, having this discussion without Harry present. But it was his impulsiveness, his stubbornness that prevented him from being here in this tent in the first place. She was doing nothing wrong. It was worth considering – all of Harry's focus was (understandably) on the upcoming battle with Voldemort, but there were many more things to think about beyond the battle. What if they destroyed the Dark Lord only for someone far worse to rise up and seize power next?
"What do you make of all this, General?" Hermione asked Beckett, who had stood silently listening throughout the exchange. "What's the best outcome for your people?"
Beckett massaged his temple in frustration. "I worry that my men won't accept any outcome with wizards at the top of the food chain," he sighed. "They were far happier not knowing that any of this magic shite existed."
"Well, that cat's out of the bag, I'm afraid," Rodriguez grinned. "But wouldn't you rather have a future where your people got to share in the benefits of the magical world?"
"What do you mean, 'your people'?" Beckett asked, suspicious.
"Non-magicals," Rodriguez went on, nonplussed. "Wouldn't you like access to the same quality of life that witches and wizards enjoy? Potions to cure any disease? Household appliances to perform any task automatically? Instant communication devices?"
"We're already getting close to those things on our own, thank you very much," Beckett retorted. "It would be an unkindness. To tempt everyday people with the scraps of a power they'll never have access to. You lot will never understand how disheartening that is."
"We're both Muggle-borns," Hermione said softly, indicating herself and Rodriguez. "We know what it's like to grow up without it. And we want nothing more than to share what we have with other people."
"And you believe you can do that without making folks resentful?" Beckett laughed. "Seems overly optimistic to me. People fear what they do not understand, and no matter how hard you try to convince them you're on their side, they will distrust you. Hate you, even."
"Not if leaders like yourself help us to convince them," Rodriguez pointed out.
"So you want me to be a turncoat?" said Beckett. "Not gonna happen. You say you value loyalty, Senator, and my loyalty is to my own kind, thank you very much."
"What if you had a magical family member?" asked Hermione softly. "Would you feel the same way?"
"My wife and daughter are perfectly normal, thank you very much!" Beckett said hotly. "I dunno what voodoo your parents did to make you the way you are, but I raised my family the right way."
"That's not how it works—" Hermione began to protest, but Rodriguez held up a hand to quiet her.
"This is irrelevant," he said firmly. "What matters is that we all agree the non-magical community deserves fairer treatment under the next regime, yes? As long as that is the case, we can work together to ensure that outcome."
Beckett grumbled in tepid agreement to this sentiment. It was obvious that he trusted none of them any more than the next, and Hermione couldn't entirely blame him. No matter what happened in this war, Muggles would still be forced to watch from the outside as wizards reaped the rewards of their powers. Why should he trust the words of a slimy politician and a twenty-something witch to provide a better future for his own 'kind'?
Hermione listened for a bit as Rodriguez and Beckett discussed tactics for the upcoming assault. Rodriguez had somehow managed to smuggle several thousand American troops into Britain, along with plenty of heavy weaponry, and planned to make good use of them in the battle. Hermione's hair raised at the thought of the full might of the U.S. military joining the war, and suspected that Harry was severely underestimating the impact they could have.
Once the plans had been finalized, Hermione returned home to the enclave to begin her own final preparations. Her rune project was coming along nicely, and she hoped to have it complete and installed before the battle began – just in case. She paced back and forth around her office, every surface covered with the tiny engraved stones, checking and triple-checking her own work to ensure the network would function as intended.
"What's all this about?" came a voice from the doorway. Harry entered the room, glancing around at the mess of runes littering the place all around him. "On second thought, I don't want to know. Probably beyond my comprehension anyway."
"Plan's all set, then?" Hermione asked, standing to meet him. "Got a good idea of how you're going to take on You-Know-Who?"
"It's a secret," Harry said with a coy smile. But Hermione could tell it was forced humor; his eyes told the true tale, staring her down with the same look of mild suspicion he'd worn ever since Luna's incident the month prior.
"It's been a while since we've kept secrets from each other," Hermione said. She ran her hand down Harry's cheek, stroking the side of his face softly. He relaxed slightly under her touch, his green eyes softening as he stared longingly into hers. It was the opening she was looking for.
Legilimens, she thought, activating her Sight and peering into Harry's mind. She was not looking for memories, but for magical signatures in his brain, and what she saw shocked her. Violent dark symbols, imprinted upon his mind, so thick that they overlapped one another in a wild maelstrom of dangerous energy. Whatever he had done to his mind was permanent, and there was no way it didn't affect his thought processes, didn't prevent him from seeing things clearly—
Hermione suddenly felt a great burst of magic as she was forced backwards, physically and mentally, out of Harry's mind. She toppled backwards to the floor, and Harry glared angrily down at her, eyes practically glowing with rage. "You dare?!" he demanded. "You lull me into submission, then penetrate my mind without asking?"
"Harry!" Hermione pleaded with him, struggling back to her feet. "You're not thinking straight! Your mind...it's drowning in dark magic. It can't be healthy for you—"
"You don't know the half of what I've been through in the past five years!" Harry yelled. "What I've had to do to prepare for this fight! It's a burden I must carry alone!"
"No it isn't!" Hermione insisted. "There are so many people who are trying to help you, but you won't let them!"
"I'M DOING IT FOR THEM!" Harry bellowed. "I didn't put myself through hell for five years just for laughs! Blimey, Hermione, I thought you of all people understood that."
"Of course I do," Hermione said firmly, not backing down from Harry's aggressive stance. "Do not yell at me."
Harry continued to glare at her, but he made no move against her. "You're plotting something," he finally said. It was not a question, but a statement of fact. "With Rodriguez. You've been talking to him behind my back."
"Only because you refused to meet with him," Hermione fired back. "You're welcome to join the grown-ups next time, instead of storming out like a petulant child."
"I'm the child?" Harry laughed. "You don't know what it's like to be hurt by somebody, Hermione. To be betrayed. Maybe if you did, you wouldn't be so quick to trust people like him."
"Is that why you're holding secret meetings without me?" Hermione challenged. "You don't trust me anyone?"
"I never said that," Harry grumbled, but he could see from the flash in his eyes that she was on the right track.
"It's that stupid prophecy, isn't it?" Hermione asked. "You know those are always intentionally vague and open-ended for a reason, right?"
"It seemed pretty clear to me," Harry retorted.
"We don't even know if Luna is a real Seer!"
"I witnessed Trelawney give one to me in person," said Harry. "Trust me, I know a prophecy when I see one."
"So, what, you think I'm plotting to stab you in the back?" Hermione demanded. "Make a play for the Elder Wand once You-Know-Who is out of the way?"
"He will be doomed to lose his power to the one he loves," Harry recited. "A fractured world will be united by the destructive actions of another. That obviously means you and Rodriguez."
"Oh, so you love me, do you?" Hermione said tauntingly. "You sure it couldn't mean Ginny? She seems eager to hop under the covers with you. Maybe she'll succeed in spiking your drink with Amortentia one of these days."
"Don't be cruel," Harry snapped at her. "You know how I feel about you. I can love you and not trust you at the same time."
"You certainly have an odd way of showing it," Hermione muttered. "Well, you're free to keep sulking and believing in crystal balls; I'm going to focus on helping you win this war. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some errands to run."
Hermione waved her wand, causing all of the runes and schematics scattered across the room to lift into the air and zoom into a small enchanted handbag. Once the last of them had disappeared within, Hermione clasped the bag shut and slung it over her shoulder, turning to exit the office.
"Where are you going with those, anyway?" Harry demanded.
"I thought you didn't want to know?" Hermione huffed.
"Humor me," said Harry, though there wasn't a bit of humor in his tone.
"It's a secret," Hermione winked, throwing his own words back at him. And she Disapparated on the spot, leaving a highly suspicious-looking Harry behind.
