Author's Note

Please forgive any spelling and/or grammar errors. I hope you enjoy it, please let me know what you think!

I had the idea for this when I started the other story, but I didn't think this would be as interesting, so I went with the other. Part of me still wants to explore this story and see where it goes. If there isn't any interest, it will only be a few chapters, but if readers decide they want more I'll go for it. Also, this story will be significantly more AU than my other, which I've not really done before…hopefully it'll be just as good :)

Oh, and these chapters will probably be shorter than those I typically write so that I can update more frequently.

I'm not J.K. Rowling, so I don't own anything.

Ch 1: Promises

Ginny's face was buried in her arms, her slim shoulders shaking visibly when Hermione entered the room. One of the remaining fifth years had come to get her upon seeing the state their roommate was in after the funeral, and it only took Hermione a second to comprehend what was happening now.

Only one person had the power to affect the youngest Weasley so strongly. Only one person was capable of reducing the resilient witch to tears.

Harry.

"He did it, didn't he?" she asked, feeling the weight of resignation settle over her heavily.

Ginny's head turned allowing Hermione to take in her damp, blotchy face and red-rimmed eyes. Already the younger girl's eyelids were swollen to the point that her brown eyes were partially concealed. Hermione's heart went out to her closest female friend.

Hermione had been dreading the moment when Harry would decide he needed to be "noble" and self-sacrificing. Harry was so unbelievably predictable. Of course he'd get it into his head that the only way to protect Ginny was to end things between them.

"We both knew it was only a matter of time," Ginny said glumly, voice thick and gravelly from sobbing.

Ginny was, of course, correct. Hermione sighed, moving to perch on the bed beside the distraught witch, and began softly running her fingers through Ginny's cinnamon locks, offering what comfort and sympathy she could.

"It's not as though no one knows what you mean to Harry," she said practically, wishing Harry understood that, "even if you're no longer officially together."

"Hermione, that's not helping," Ginny said flatly, pinning Hermione with a quelling look.

"Sorry," she said, wincing internally. Sometimes she forgot to consider or take into account others' feelings when she was analysing a situation. Not everyone was able to view things as logically as she was – at least when Ron wasn't involved. Then she was as irrational as everyone else.

"Am I ever going to see him again?" Ginny asked timidly, her voice unusually small.

There were times Hermione forgot that Ginny was only in her fifth year. Ordinarily, she was so confident and capable that she seemed older and more experienced. But that wasn't the case right then. Now, she was just a teen who'd had her heart broken, and didn't know what the future held for those she loved most in the world.

"Oh, Gin, you can't think like that," Hermione tried, unwilling to offer false platitudes. Because that was a promise she couldn't make. Not when Harry was quite literally being hunted by a monster.

"Promise me," Ginny beeseached, rolling to swiftly grab Hermione's hand. The hold was uncomfortably tight, and it alarmed her. "Promise me you'll do whatever it takes to help him. This has to end, and I know he feels like he has to do this…and I really do get it…but you have to look out for him. Promise me. Please, Hermione. You're the only one who can – the only one he'll allow to take those risks with him. The only one actually smart enough to help."

Hermione winced, knowing Ginny didn't believe Ron was able to offer what Harry would need, but knowing equally well that Ginny was too loyal to her family to actually state as much. This was as close as she'd get, and Hermione didn't necessarily disagree. She loved Ron, truly, but there was no denying his faults or weaknesses.

This was a big ask, but it was also something she'd already decided to do. Her parents had raised her to always stand up for her beliefs, and never in her time at Hogwarts had she shied away from doing so. She wasn't about to start now.

"I will," she vowed.

With those words hanging between them, fresh tears began making their way down Ginny's cheeks, leaving thin streaks of wetness as the witch mourned. Hermione returned to stroking her friend's hair, sitting with her as she cried.

How was she going to help? She didn't know the first thing about Horcruxes. No one at the school did, not now that Dumbledore was gone. That knowledge had died with him, and Harry didn't seem to know half of what he should, considering all of the private lessons he'd had this year.

She could smack her friend for choosing to fixate on Malfoy's activities and mysterious behaviour rather than focusing on the more pressing matter at hand.

If only there was a way to speak with Dumbledore and ask everything Harry hadn't. But you couldn't converse with the dead. Not unless they were ghosts, with Dumbledore wasn't, or –

His portrait!

All of the headmasters and headmistresses had portraits in the head's office. She could speak with him there, and find out more.

Hermione waited until Ginny had cried herself to sleep before she snuck into the boy's dorm and nicked Harry's invisibility cloak, her heart racing as she did. Oh, if the boys could see her voluntarily breaking rules. They'd never let her live it down.

It was utterly silent as she moved about the corridors. The castle had started emptying out after the funeral ended, and most of those remaining were either guests in the Order or Muggleborn students whose parents didn't understand the gravity of everything happening, so had not already demanded their child return home immediately.

Still, Hermione had no wish to run into anyone or be questioned on what she was up to. Harry had been quite clear in expressing Dumbledore's wishes that all knowledge of the Horcruxes remain between the trio.

The gargoyles parted when she transparently approached without a password, as though they'd been expecting her arrival, and were ordered to grant her passage regardless. Guess invisibility cloaks didn't work on them.

"Professor Dumbledore? Sir, are you awake?" she asked awkwardly when she reached her destination. Even after six years of living in the wizarding world, she had yet to get used to speaking to portraits and expecting them to respond.

She glanced around the office as she waited, taking in the stuffed bookshelves and the table of delicate, silvery trinkets. Another time, she'd have been tempted to investigate both closer. But not today. She was there for one purpose only. There were Dark Detectors as well, foggy Foe-Glasses and silent Sneakascopes by the headmaster's desk. Stacks of parchment and piles of rolled scrolls covered every available inch of the desk's surface, evidence of all the chaos taking place at the school.

Hermione ideally wondered how many were letters from angry parents demanding to know how the school had "let" this all happen in the first place. As though they weren't aware of the perils befalling all of the wizarding world. Besides, there was always a component of danger involved with magic. Anything could go wrong. How many times had Neville nearly taken out his entire class with a botched potion?

"Sir, please, if you're awake this is very important," she said again, her distressed thoughts making the matter seem even more pressing.

"Miss Granger, what brings you to my former office? Not in trouble with the new head already, surely?" he said, sounding bemused by the prospect.

"No, well, yes, I suppose you could say I'm in trouble," Hermione answered, wringing her hands and glancing about. Many of the other portrait occupants were watching her avidly. Didn't Harry mention something about them usually feigning sleep? Why couldn't she be so lucky? It'd make this significantly easier. "I need your help."

"I shall, of course, provide whatever help is within my power, but given my current state I will warn you that I am significantly more limited than I once was," Dumbledore warned.

His words made her frown. How could he reference his death so blasely? Particularly when the rest of the world was so torn up about it. His loss had rocked them, and none had truly regained their feet yet.

Shaking off the desire to scold him, because it certainly wasn't her place, nor would it be a productive use of her limited time, she came straight out and asked, "Where are the other Horcruxes?"

"My dear, if I'd known, I would have already destroyed them. I'm afraid the task of locating them will fall on you and your friends," he confessed regretfully, dipping his head as though shamed by this truth.

It was the very last thing she wanted to hear, though not altogether unexpected. Still, there was so much more information they required if they were to do this properly. Best focus on what she could learn, rather than what she couldn't.

"I understand. But, sir, we know next to nothing about them. There are no books in the library, I've searched. How are they created? What type of object can be used? How can we handle them? Will they hurt us like one did your hand? Do they last forever? How do we destroy them? Is there –"

Dumbledore interrupted, giving her a chance to catch her breath after running on, each question flowing from the previous in a single, continuous stream much as she'd been in the habit of speaking when she was younger.

"My dear, I cannot answer all of your questions at once," he said gently, his upturned palms lowering repeatedly in a gesture that clearly requested she slow down and give him a chance to keep pace.

The portraits all began chittering, the occupants leaning across their frames to whisper loudly to the nearest neighbour. Hermione was highly embarrassed by the gossiping tutters her questioning had inspired, but she was completely overwhelmed by the daunting task before them. The lack of concrete information or solid plan meant she couldn't help feeling woefully unprepared.

"Sorry," she muttered, willing the heat from her cheeks. She was certain they were glowing a glaring shade of red judging from the feel of them. She'd sat near raging fires that put off less heat.

"The Horcruxes themselves will not harm you, though they may put up a fight when you go to destroy them," Dumbledore began, but held up a hand to stay her when she opened her mouth to demand a better explanation. "It is the protections around them that you will need to be most wary of."

"What protections?" she inquired, the ever present panic she felt when considering the challenge she'd taken on was growing exponentially by the second.

What in Merlin's name was Dumbledore thinking to entrust this to a trio of students? They weren't trained for this sort of thing. They weren't qualified to tackle curse-breaking. Hell, they'd not even graduated yet!

Their successes over the years were nothing more than sheer, dumb luck if she were honest with herself.

"I cannot say," he said heavily, spreading his hands before him helplessly.

No wonder Harry didn't share much with her and Ron. Dumbledore was maddeningly vague and surprisingly clueless himself. She'd just assumed Harry had been too distracted to listen properly as he often was in his lessons. Nope. Apparently, he truly didn't know. Because Dumbledore didn't either.

"Can't you give us anything to go on?" she asked urgently, desperation creeping steadily into her voice.

"My intention had been for you to use the Sword of Gryffindor to destroy the items as I did with the ring. I even willed it to Harry," he said cautiously.

Hermione seized the chance to have any good news at all, and quickly offered, "I can take it to him."

"Bit hard, considering some Ministry drone came and confiscated it yesterday," a former headmistress said with an irritated snort. She looked too young to have ever served in such a prestigious position, and Hermione was momentarily distracted as she imagined accomplishing as much herself by that age.

Then her news registered.

"But surely that's illegal!" Hermione gasped, scanning the faces before her. None were sleeping now, and many were nodding their agreement.

"It is, but I was not in a position to stop it from happening until it was too late," Dumbledore relayed, his brow pinching and his bright blue eyes closing. If she had to guess, he was kicking himself for the fact all of his carefully sorted plans were not playing out as he had clearly intended. But when did they ever?

"It's at the Ministry then?" she speculated. Mr. Weasley worked there. Perhaps he could be persuaded to try and retrieve it for them. Surely he had some connections or there were channels he could go through for them.

"No. I would have seen them bring it in, but they didn't," a different headmaster said. His complexion was rather sallow beneath his short, black bangs, though he appeared friendly enough.

"It could be anywhere." Dumbledore's face gave everything away. Using the sword was out of the question. There wasn't time to track down yet another item with nothing to go on.

"Was that the only way to destroy a Horcrux then? Surely you must have considered alternative means?" Hermione asked urgently, beseeching the man to give her something positive to go on. Anything, really. Just so long as they weren't completely stumbling around in the dark.

"There are a few other ways, but none I would recommend you attempting," he said crisply, pursing his lips in obvious disapproval.

"The potion would work," Phineas Black interjected, a sly smile stretching his lips. Hermione recognized him from his portrait at Grimmauld Place. He'd been related to Sirius, and she sensed the same devious sense of humour in the former headmaster. It must run in the family.

Hearing the word potion brought Professor Snape immediately to mind. It didn't matter that Professor Slughorn had taught her the subject for the last year. She would forever associate the other wizard with the subject. He'd certainly been far better at instructing them, for whatever other faults he possessed. At least Snape had pushed them rather than fawning over the connections and bribes his position provided.

But Snape had betrayed them. He was the reason Dumbledore couldn't keep helping Harry and the reason she was now in her current position.

For days now, Hermione had tried to puzzle it out, but it simply didn't make sense to her. None of it did, from Snape's betrayal in murdering the headmaster to why Dumbledore had ever been convinced Snape was trustworthy to begin with. She felt as though she were completing a puzzle, except all the pieces were face down, hiding all of the vital information necessary for solving it.

"We do not teach the Dark Arts here, nor would I ever recommend their use to a student," Dumbledore said sharply. The set down was abrupt and decisive, but somehow it only made Hermione all the more curious.

The Dark Arts? They were required to destroy a Horcrux? All knowledge fascinated her, but there was something particularly enticing about the taboo subject. Probably specifically because it was so off limits.

It reminded her of Umbridge and how the woman only wanted to teach theory. How could they properly learn a subject without the practical element? The same was true of the Dark Arts. How could they defend against a magic they didn't understand?

"Have you another way then?" Phineas prodded. The weddling words were so smug that Hermione felt an instant dislike for the man. She'd never spoken to him when she'd stayed with Sirius, but he reminded her of Malfoy just now. Phineas waited, and when it became clear Dumbledore didn't have an answer, he said, "I thought not. You wanted a solution, but now that you have one, you're going to complain because it's not to your liking? I hardly think you are in a position –"

"Phineas, silence, please," Dumbledore ordered. He was frowning, but Hermione had the impression he was giving the idea serious contemplation. It was a long while before he spoke, finally allowing, "Perhaps your suggestion has merit. Unfortunately, we do not teach the skills necessary to complete a potion of that nature. I doubt even one as clever as our Miss Granger here could successfully brew it."

"He could help her…with a little persuading on your part," Phineas suggested coyly, though Hermione cringed a bit at the slimy coating to his words. It left her feeling uneasy and grungy. The desire to take a shower was nearly undeniable.

"Persuading? I don't believe he'd view it as anything short of outright manipulation," Dumbledore huffed, shaking his head. He inhaled deeply before adding meaningfully, "Nor would she."

"He could ensure it was done correctly, and you've never shied away from forcing him to do loathsome tasks before," Phineas accused, the words full of innuendo. "I don't see why the small matter of your death should alter that now."

Dumbledore appeared very dismayed by the evaluation, and opened his mouth as though to argue.

"I'm still right here," Hermione interjected, annoyed at being discussed so openly while not being included. She also didn't appreciate being ignorant. With a bit more sass than she probably ought to use when addressing her superiors, she demanded, "If I wasn't willing to do what was necessary, I'd not be here asking for help. Is there another way or not?"

"It works best when the vital ingredient is fresh," Phineas informed Dumbledore as though he needed the reminder.

"A rather significant factor in my vetoing the suggestion in the first place," he answered, glancing pointedly at where the other portrait resided.

"Aren't you the one always saying 'For the greater good'?" Phineas quipped, his previous smile growing as he realised he'd won this verbal sparring match.

Dumbledore studied Hermione assessingly, and her unease grew. Whatever they were discussing, she had a feeling she wasn't going to like it. But not even two hours ago she'd promised Ginny to help Harry. She couldn't, no – wouldn't – go back on that now. Not at the very first hurdle. She was stronger than that.

"There are several books referencing Horcruxes on my shelves, just there," Dumbledore finally relented, pointing at a shelf she'd noted upon entering the room. She went towards it as he continued speaking, "The bottom shelf. The last three books in the left corner. I believe you might find several of the answers you seek in there. As for destroying them, Professor Black's suggestion would work, but it would be exceedingly difficult and require a sacrifice on your part."

Considering the sword wasn't a viable option, she didn't see why she wouldn't be willing to try whatever potion they were being frustratingly vague in referencing.

"I'll do what I must to help Harry stop Voldemort. I've never backed down before," she informed the former heads, stealing her resolve for whatever was required of her as she gathered the appropriate books.

"Perhaps you should understand what you are agreeing to and give yourself a bit of time to think on it first. There might be other –"

The sound of voices echoing from the stairs as people ascended the steps leading to the office cut him off mid-comment.

"Go," he ordered, and Hermione wasted no time in throwing Harry's invisibility cloak over her head. "You mustn't get caught with those books," he finished as the silky fabric settled about her.

"Understood," she whispered, making for the door.

"Ah, Minerva and Kingsley, just the two people I was hoping to speak with" he greeted as they came in, catching them off guard enough to hesitate and allow Hermione the opportunity to slip past them and out the open door.

"Albus! You're finally awake," McGonagall gasped. Her exclamation chased Hermione down the stairs as she hurried back to Gryffindor Tower with the forbidden books clutched tightly to her chest.

Except she discovered Ginny had woken and was crying again when she entered her dorm after returning Harry's cloak. So she hastily stowed the books in her trunk and went to comfort her friend again. Besides, it wasn't like she'd be able to focus anyway after her talk with Dumbledore. And she would have plenty of time to examine them in detail when she reached home the next day.