Chapter XX: The Match To Light The Way

As was far too familiar nowadays, Diagon Alley was empty, devoid of life except for the presence of one man. Remus Lupin glanced at his wristwatch anxiously, a sense of dread looming higher than the buildings standing tall and dead around him.

The once-beating magical heart of London lay still and silent as if holding its breath. His cautious footsteps echoed through the carcass of what should have been a bustling street. Even the sun felt like it had been smothered by a ceiling of grey. Even as he carefully wandered down its spine, past window after window, he could not tell if the shops were open or if their owners had run away and hidden.

It had only taken eight months for Voldemort's puppet Ministry to turn a thriving, defiant hub of activity into an empty theatre. The rest of the country wasn't much better. Remus struggled to remember anything quite like this during the last war. Everywhere you went, people were afraid. Many had packed their belongings and ran. The Order was stretched thin to protect what few good people were left.

However, they couldn't find everyone. Every day, more and more people were disappearing, taken by Snatchers, dragged away for punishment. Muggleborns were arrested the most, often for no reason at all. Anyone who dared to aide their escape was punished just as severely. It didn't take much to catch the eye of the Ministry, but those who did were never seen again.

It was easy to think that resistance was doomed. The Death Eaters already had the power of the country behind them, with a small but vicious group to enforce it. There was, however, one spark of hope they could not snuff out, no matter how hard they tried.

Harry Potter.

To even say the name invoked a power Remus couldn't describe, perhaps more so than even Voldemort's name could conjure. Although the past few months had been dominated with news of growing darkness, Harry's name kept appearing again and again, each time accompanied with new whispers.

"I heard a whole group of Snatchers couldn't stop him."

"I heard he managed to save a family of four in Corby."

"I heard he has a Patronus thats kills Dementors."

The rumours that eventually found Remus were plenty and astounding. Even with the highest regard for the young man, he doubted that most of them were real, but if only a few were true, it painted a picture of a man fighting a single-handed war against a mighty enemy. And somehow, in his own way, he was winning.

If the people were kept in fear, the Death Eaters were petrified. There were rumours that they refused to show their faces in public, having already lost more than a few of their number to the Boy-Who-Lived. Every one of Voldemort's circle that hunted him were lost. Those who returned spoke of an enemy that refused to be beaten. Either Harry had truly become as powerful they say - enough that even wizards twice his age feared to fight him - or he had simply learned to use his enemy's own tactics against them.

Harry Potter was turning Voldemort's brand of fear back on his own supporters and the people knew it. The fact that the Dark Lord had not been seen in public for some time only seemed to confirm that he wouldn't dare face the boy, a thought that only festered and seeped into the people that followed him. Merely a mention of Potter's name was enough to turn a Snatcher's head nowadays. People spoke it to their faces, loud and defiant, daring them to take that liberty from them.

Harry's story had become a lighthouse in a sea of despondent voices, but even Remus knew it was only a story. Harry was not a god, nor was he a dark-wizard killing machine or some mythical figure who could turn the tide of war all on his own. No, Harry Potter was not and had never been alone.

"Remus."

The voice came from a lamppost. Or rather, the person standing beside it, invisible to every living soul. Remus adjusted his cloak, making to look as if he was checking each of his fastened buttons.

"Dreadful weather," he spoke expectantly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"For dreadful times," the voice spoke rest of the code-phrase back.

"Hermione," he greeted warmly. He wished he could see his former student and remark at the amazing young woman she had become. For all the feats that Harry had become infamous for, Remus never failed to imagine Hermione Granger standing beside him, with every bit of news he gathered corroborating that image. She and Harry both had become a force to be reckoned with. It was like looking at James and Lily all over again…

There was no time for reminiscing, however. There was barely any time at all. Glancing around, Remus chose a dark alleyway nearby and walked towards it. "It's good to hear you're alright."

"You too. You look well."

Remus smile meekly. It had only been a few days since the last full moon. His muscles ached. His skin felt tight and worn.

"I know I don't but thank you for protecting my ego."

"No, you do," Hermione's soft voice insisted. "I promise. Better than you feel, I'm sure."

"Well, it certainly helps to have a warm place to stay while it happens. Andromeda has been… very kind to us."

The pair settled against the back wall of a stationary shop. Remus produced a fake a pipe to and ignited it. He felt Hermione settle in beside him and whisper to him.

"I'm sorry about Ted."

Remus sighed. His face darkened. His shoulders sagged as the trials of the last few months caught up to him.

"Have you found him yet?"

"We're trying, but there's only so much we can do, especially if he's been…" "No, I get it. Thank you for trying."

The pair settled into a solemn silence.

"How's Tonks?"

"Tired and sore," Remus smiled fondly. "I think she's eager to be done with it."

"She's due very soon," Hermione asked eagerly, "isn't she?"

"Here's hoping." He gave a tired sigh. "Truthfully, I think we're both terrified."

"Don't worry, you'll be fine." A clothed hand pressed against his arm. "So long as you keep your promise."

A memory of a night many months before entered his mind. The night he found out they were expecting, in a moment of weakness, he ran out of the two most important people in his life. It had taken a visit from Hermione and Harry, fresh from the Forest of Dean, to send him crawling back to beg forgiveness. That very night, he promised to be a better man for them both and truly meant it, a promise he had upheld to this day.

"I will," Remus said solemnly. "I have no intention of leaving her now, not with the state of things as they are."

Hermione was quiet for a moment. Remus imagined her gazing around at the desolate street.

"I've never seen this place so quiet."

"There's barely anyone left. They've either run or have been snatched."

"It's awful. It's like the whole country has gone to sleep." "I doubt anyone can sleep nowadays." He noted the fading ember in his pipe. "We can't stay here long. I have news."

"I've heard."

"There's been a leak," he explained, "somewhere within Riddle's ranks. Apparently they have a critical asset hidden in Malfoy Manor, one that could turn the tide of the war."

He heard a short, restrained gasp.

"What kind of asset?" "They didn't say." He turned to where he hoped Hermione was standing. "But they say it won't be there for long and that we need to act fast if we're going to claim it. I'm guessing that means something to you two, though."

"It does," she replied in a grave voice that only made Remus more nervous. He dare not imagine what could possibly be hidden in Malfoy Manor, but what it was, it was nothing good.

By now, the pipe had long since burnt out, its smoke wafting and fading into the air.

"We have to go," he said. "We've lingered long enough."

An invisible arm awkwardly reach around his shoulder. Remus leaned into the hug as much as he thought would be admissible to an onlooker.

"Stay safe, Remus. Send Tonks our love."

"I will. Tell Harry…" He paused, mulling over the little time he had and the many thoughts running through his head. "Tell him I'm proud of him."

Without another word, Remus turned and left, with only a quiet pop, masked by his heavy footsteps, to mark Hermione's goodbye.

Not a moment later, Hermione reappeared at the edge of Mr Dalton's property and quickly made her way through the winding trails into the heart of the woods. Eventually, once she was certain she wasn't being followed, she removed the invisibility cloak and raised her hands. She stepped into the midst of a clearing and waited.

Almost immediately, she felt a the tip of a wand press into the back of her neck.

"Why is a bezoar found in the stomach of a goat?" Angela's voice demanded.

"Because a chicken's stomach would be too small."

Immediately, Angela lowered her wand. She wrapped Hermione in a hug, to which the girl reciprocated.

"We were so worried," the younger girl said.

"I've only been gone a few hours," Hermione scoffed.

"So? It's dangerous out there!" Angela finally released her from the hug, her eyes scanning the trees to spot anything she might have missed while they were distracted. "Did you get anything useful in the end?" "I think I have," Hermione nodded. "Where's Harry?"

"Main tent. I'd be careful. He's not in a good mood."

"Why?"

Angela shuffled awkwardly on the spot, her foot scraping against Hermione's nerves.

"Luna Lovegood's been snatched."

Hermione's heart plummeted into her boots. She forced herself to breathe and in an instant, a wave of dread, sadness and regret crashed through her.

"Oh, God…"

"I'm sorry," Angela reached out to rub her shoulder. "You were friends, right?"

"I think so." The brunette cringed as a stab of guilt pierced her. "I wasn't very good to her at all. God, I hope she's alright."

"Harry was beside himself," Angela wrapped her jacker around herself. "Go to him."

The words propelled Hermione through the trees, past the may tents strewn around the main site, towards the large tent at the entrance of the gateway. She barely stopped to say 'Hello', only giving Ron a passing nod as he pointed inside. She peeled back the thin canvas blocking the entrance to find Harry leaning against a table, his back to the entrance. The tension in his body was palpable from where she stood, watching him as he stared a large board covered in notes and photographs. One picture showed the mangled remains of Ravenclaw's diadem, another showed Tom Riddle's diary with a gaping hole in its cover, along with the Gaunt ring cut in two and the shards of Slytherin's locket in a pile.

A desk sat before him, covered in equipment they had found since the war began. Most prominently was a case of daggers, bullets and darts besides a jar of bright golden Basilisk venom taken straight from the the corpse in Chamber of Secrets, along with a pair of Hagrid's thickest dragon-skin gloves to handle them with. Across the various shelves sat documents of acquisitions from Borgin and Burkes, numerous case files detailing the prolific career of Tom Riddle, and a series of multicoloured devices provided by the Weasley Twins.

She noticed his hands had stopped drumming on the tabletop, his head turned towards her. The moment he realised he was alone, he marched towards her and wrapped her in a a hug. Hermione wound her arms around him, pressing her lips into his chest. The muscles in his back felt like granite, undoubtedly twisted into knots from stress. The calloused tips of his fingers brushed against her through the fabric of her jumper.

"Have you heard?" he whispered. She nodded.

"Yes."

"They took her not too long ago. I thought she was at Hogwarts." Harry took in a deep breath. "Her father called the Snatchers on us when he tried to find her. We only just managed to escape."

"He's helping the Death Eaters?"

"Not willingly. He only wants Luna back. I can't blame him. He even bought us some time to escape…" He shook his head. "He's probably on his was to Azkaban for it."

She leaned back to examine his face and admired the stubble that shadowed his features. "Are you okay?"

"Not remotely." His thumb reached up to her cheek and wiped away a tear she didn't realise was there. "I'm so sorry, Hermione."

Now, in the relative privacy of their tent, wrapped in her lover's arms, Hermione allowed her dam to break.

"I was so awful to her," she lamented. "I barely spoke to her and now she's…"

"She loved you, though," he told her. "She loved all of us."

He reached behind him and presented a photograph. It took a moment for Hermione to recognise what it was, but the moment she did, her eyes became misty.

"What's this?" she gasped.

"We found it on Luna's bedroom ceiling when we went to investigate."

It was a vast mosaic of portraits, the smiling faces of Luna's dearest friends. Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville… and her. Despite Hermione dismissing her constantly, almost ridiculing the girl for her outlandish theories, Luna still considered her one of her best friends.

Hermione hastily wiped her eyes and sniffled. This wasn't the time for sadness, not when she could feel a righteous fury growing in her chest, spurring her into action.

"Why did they take her?" she growled. "Of all people, why her?"

"They wanted control of the Quibbler," Harry explained softly. "They're using her to keep her father in line." "Which means she's most likely alive." "Exactly." He pressed a kiss into her forehead. "We will find her, Hermione. I promise you, we will."

The pair embraced each other, each silently turning over the news. The guilt of not being there to protect their friend, the longing to rush out there and find her and most of all, the anger, the fury that they had dared kidnap someone so dear to them. Just below all of those, at the centre, in their most selfish recesses, lay a pounding relief, the knowledge that at least it wasn't one of them. It was perhaps the few solaces that she could cling to, that they would fight until those they had lost could be brought home and that Harry was right here with her, safe and alive.

On some days, it was only those thin silver linings got her out of bed in the morning. However, after months of false trails and dead ends they had a lead.

"How do we know we can trust this?" Harry murmured once Hermione was finished explaining everything that Remus had told her. "What if it's a trap?" "Surprisingly, Harry, I had thought of that."

"You know what I mean." He fiddled with the edge of the table, tearing off a stray splinter. "If Riddle were trying to draw us out, this would be how to do it."

It did seem too good to be true. Months of furious searching only for suddenly the perfect clue to fall into their laps? That wasn't how it worked for them. They rarely got this lucky. But Hermione trusted Remus to know the difference between simple rumours and a genuine leak. "What did Professor Snape say?" she asked. Harry's face soured at the mere mention of the man but he dutifully replied. "As far as he knows, there's nothing of real consequence at Malfoy Manor."

"But?"

"But he knows the leak didn't come from Riddle and they've been upping protection at the Manor for some time."

Hermione's eyes widened.

"Then it is legitimate."

Despite her excitement, Harry remained muted. He shook his head, crossing his arms across his wide chest, a gesture that showed off the few benefits of their rigorous lifestyle.

"All we know is that someone sent a message claiming they have something hidden," he reasoned. "That's barely anything."

"No, it's more than that," Hermione pleaded. "We know Malfoy Manor is probably Riddle's main base of operations. It's where all of his most trusted Death Eaters gather. If a Horcrux is likely to be anywhere, it's in that house."

"I believe you would call that conjecture, Miss Granger," Harry smirked. "No, I call it a proposition," she replied, crossing her arms in an identical manner.

"You're proposing that Riddle would trust any of his Death Eaters with a Horcrux."

"He trusted Lucius Malfoy with one."

"And look what happened. As much as I hate Riddle, I refuse to think he's stupid enough to the same mistake twice."

"Well, at least it's something." A sense of weary fell over her. "Harry, our leads have dried up. Finding the Diadem was one thing, but what about the rest?"

"There's still one more in the wind," he mumbled, refusing to look her in the eye.

"And finding it could take too long."

Harry stood from the table and began pacing the length of the tent with heavy footsteps.

"You do realise if there is a Horcrux there," he argued, "if we do manage to steal it, it won't take long for Riddle to realise it's gone."

"What if we replace it?"

"We don't even know what it is. Besides, he'll know if it's a fake immediately. I'm not saying it's impossible, but if we do this…" He stopped and glanced at her, his emerald eyes shimmering with anxiety. "It can't be undone."

"Since when did you become the cautious one?" she scoffed lightly, trying to mask her own reluctance. "Even so, we can't keep tiptoeing around them forever. Eventually we'll have to make a direct attack. Riddle's going to find out eventually. I'd rather it be of our initiative than his."

The possible consequences of their actions had hardly passed her by. She had been churning them inside her head from the moment Remus mentioned Malfoy Manor, but it had to be done.

Harry was silent for a while and Hermione could see the moment he reached the same conclusions she had. There were only so many moves they had left to make. The endgame was rapidly approaching. They had done all they could while staying in the shadows. Now it was time to play their hand, as terrifying a notion as that was.

"I suppose I can't convince you to stay?" she heard Harry offer. She smiled fondly.

"We're in this together, remember?" She placed her hands on his shoulders and locked eyes with him. "We do this as a team or not at all."

For a moment, he looked as if he was about to argue before he shook his head, dispelling the notion from his mind.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I just…"

"I know," she whispered. "Believe me, I want to keep you safe, too."

"Hermione," he grinned, "statistically speaking, I'm never safer than when I'm with you."

There was the boyish smile that made her feel like a first year again. How would that little girl feel knowing that small, messy-haired, bespectacled boy she had met on the train would be the one she would follow to the ends of the Earth? She should have known the moment he tried to wrestle a troll for her that it would end this way. Harry and Hermione and the rest of the world.

"If we're doing this," she said, "we need to agree on something."

Sensing the grave turn in her voice, Harry sat up and gave her an earnest nod.

"If it all goes wrong…" she paused, imagining the very real possibility of complete disaster. They were about to venture straight into the lion's den with no one to save them should they fail. The words felt heavy in her mouth. She could feel his expectant gaze on her. "If you have to run, then run. Even if it means leaving me behind."

"I can't-" Harry began but Hermione quickly placed her hand over his mouth. She knew everything he would say and maybe, if she let him, he could convince her otherwise. But this wasn't just about them. Hermione wouldn't allow them to believe it.

"You must. Because if you don't, if they capture you, we lose. You know that. I won't let that happened if I can prevent it. If that means I have to make that sacrifice then so be it."

Gently, Harry removed her hand and held it tight.

"In that case," he murmured, "I want you by my side at all times. No wandering off, no heroics."

"I won't," she reassured him. "But that goes doubly for you."

"Probably," he admitted. "And if you feel like something's wrong, for any reason, you tell me and we'll abort."

"Harry, I-" she tried to protest but now it was his turn to overrule her.

"No. I'd rather lose whatever's Riddle's hiding than lose you."

He held her like she would be pulled away from him at any moment, leaning in so close that his voice was barely a whisper. There was a hint of shame in his voice, as if he were a little boy who knew he was asking for too much and pleaded anyway. Hermione couldn't blame him for it, nor could she say she wouldn't make the same choice.

"What if that's too high a price?" she murmured, not allowing herself to think that her own life was worth more the many others that depended on them.

That was when she noticed a glint of defiance in his eye, the one that could topple empires, and felt his hands clasp around her own. "We'll find another way," he promised. "We always do."

Hermione shook her head, trying to keep her feet on the ground despite the sheer determination in his voice threatening to lift her up to the ceiling. It was hard to maintain a dour outlook when faced with his sheer stubborn will.

"Look at us," she sighed fondly, taking his thin face in her hands. "We're hopeless."

Harry smiled and blessed the palm of her hand with the gentlest of kisses. Try all she might to remain the sane one between them Hermione knew it was a losing battle.

"Completely mental," he smiled.

"So, are we doing this, then?" a voice interrupted from the tent flap. The pair turned, their intimate moment slightly spoiled, and Ron's freckled face poked inside. "Have you been listening in on us?" Hermione asked with a stern scowl.

"Mostly," Ron shrugged, "I drifted off when you were rehearsing your vows, but I got the gist."

Despite the many months of conflict, Ron had changed very little, except for the now sandy-brown dyed locks on his head. The poor lad had tried to argue to keep his ginger hair but Angela's logic of disguise trumping dignity had won out in the end. Still, even with his fiery mane tamed to a more mundane shade, Ron remained his ever-unflappable self. It was a welcome reprieve from the near-constant misery, even if it sometimes served as a nuisance in private moments like this.

"It was really sweet, though." The flap parted a second time and Angela shuffled in beside him. At least she had the courtesy to look contrite. "Oh, by the way, we're absolutely coming too so don't even bother trying to convince us not to because it won't work and you'll be wasting your breath." She smiled brightly. "Just so we're on the same page."

"Oh sure, invite yourselves along, why don't you?" Harry said. "In fact, let's just bring everyone. Why not?"

"Listen, mate," Ron replied in a voice dripping with just as much sarcasm, "not sure if you're aware but manors are typically quite big and the more of us there are, the quicker we can search through it."

"And the greater the chance we'll be found," Hermione pointed out, "and if we're going to break into a Manor house teeming with some of the most dangerous individuals in the country, we really don't want to be found."

Despite the apparent risk she was trying to communicate, Ron merely scoffed.

"Eh, so we'll be in mortal peril. What's new? Then again, we still don't know how we'll get inside. Maybe if I let myself get captured, I can smuggle you guys in with me. I'm a pretty big deal, hopefully they won't send me to the Ministry instead-"

"I have an idea," Hermione offered, her eyes leading back to Harry, "but you're not going to like it."

Harry stared at her in confusion before he realised exactly what she was talking about.

"No," he replied firmly. "Out of the question."

"Harry-"

"I won't do it."

"He already knows the house inside and out-"

"What are you talking-" Ron tried to ask but Angela gently elbowed him in the ribs. The boy wisely fell silent as the pair of lovers stared unwavering at each other.

"He's not going back there," Harry said with a voice like granite. A dark shadow of guilt crept over him. "I won't make him-"

"I'm not asking you to," Hermione insisted. "We'll obviously give him a choice."

"Do you really think he would say 'no' to me?"

"Fine, I'll ask him."

"Hermione-" "I wouldn't do this if I knew a safer way in." She carefully wrapped his hands in hers, carefully coaxing him out of his head. "It won't turn out like last time, I promise. Please, let me try."

Slowly, she could see his reluctance melt away, revealing a layer of shame beneath. Shame and a daunting realisation that, of course, she was right. He took a deep breath, flushing the last of his defiance from him.

"Dobby."

A small pop erupted beside them. Harry cringed from the loyal elf's excited face.

"Yes, Harry Potter, sir?" He squeaked from beneath several layers of hats and scarves before turning the young woman beside with equal reverence. "And his Mione, miss?"

"How are you today, Dobby?" Harry asked, giving the elf a kind but melancholy smile.

"Oh, Harry Potter is too kind. I is well, sir."

"That's good. I, er-" Harry trailed off. It was too much to look into his friend's face, knowing what he was about to ask of him, the cruelty of the request only balanced the desperation of their plight. The words would not come. All Harry could think of was another elf he was supposed to look after, who died because of his own callousness and pride. And now fate was asking him to do it again to one of his dearest friends.

Luckily, as always, Hermione was there to do what he hadn't the strength to do, what needed to be done.

"Dobby, would you like to help us?"

The small elf stared at her with glistening eyes, as if she had offered him all the treasure in the world.

"Miss Mione is asking Dobby for help?" he gasped.

"Yes, I am," she replied. There was a pause as she too grappled with what she was about to say and the sudden flare of guilt that attacked her resolve. "We need to get into Malfoy Manor. And I'm sorry but you're the only one that can take us there."

Dobby suddenly went very still. His globe-like eyes grew ever wider, his shoulders hunched and he gripped his mitten-gloved hands to his chest.

"You is wanting Dobby t-to go back?" he whispered. "To his old family?"

"No." Harry's voice seemed to echo throughout the tent despite his voice barely rising above a breath. He leaned down onto his knees and looked the shaking elf face-to-face. "You are never going back to them. Just get us in and out of the house. Nothing more."

By this point, Hermione had followed Harry to floor and began rubbing Dobby's arm in soothing strokes.

"You don't have to, Dobby," she said. "We'll understand."

After a moment of silence in which the elf stared at his two friends, he asked with a hint of mischief, "You is getting… revenge on Dobby's old family?"

Hermione couldn't help but smirk conspiratorially.

"Better," she said leaning in, "We're going to stop the Dark Lord AND get revenge on your old family."

Dobby's ears perked up at that and his mouth twirled into a naughty grin.

"Ooh, Dobby likes that idea."

"If this works," Hermione promised, "We'll get you all the socks you could ever want. And none of them will match."

Harry had to suppress his laughter as Dobby made a face that was as close to smitten as a House-Elf could get. Meanwhile Ron could only glance at Angela, a befuddled concern etched across his freckled face.

"Mental," he murmured. "All three of them."