Chapter Two
For a long time after returning home from Diagon Alley, Hermione couldn't stop trembling. She couldn't believe how close she'd been to Antonin Dolohov in the bookstore. The cretin had actually touched her! No one, not even Voldemort himself scared her as much as that clearly insane Death Eater. After he nearly killed her in the Department of Mysteries, he frequently made appearances in her worst nightmares. She disappeared into her bedroom in an attempt to calm down.
How was it even possible that three Death Eaters had approached her in a matter of days with their own strange variations in warnings? It didn't make any sense. Why would they even bother to seek her out? She highly doubted any of the visits were accidental or unplanned. Were they playing some sort of sick game with her? Was it an elaborate plan of Voldemort's to try to separate her from Harry? He would be weaker on his own, easier to pick off.
In an effort to try to get her mind on a subject other than the disturbing visit, Hermione flipped through the memory charm book. With each turn of the page she felt even more sick to her stomach. Could she really do it? Could she really strip all memories of her from her parents' minds? As terrified as she was at the thought, she didn't see that she had any other choice. They deserved to be protected, not drawn into their daughter's dangerous world they knew nothing about. The likelihood of her dying before the war was over was quite high. She couldn't let them be hurt. Not if she could do something to prevent it.
Needing a break from thinking about her plan, Hermione slid the memory charm book under her pillow. Her parents weren't usually the sort to sneak into her room to borrow her books, but she felt it was especially important to keep them away from that particular volume. They might ask her too many uncomfortable questions she didn't want to answer. It was going to be hard enough to do what was necessary. She couldn't have any excuse not to go through with it.
She picked up the purple beaded bag she'd been given. Why would Rowle want to help her? Death Eaters wanted her kind dead, especially the ones who aided their enemies. As Harry Potter's best friend, she had a massive target on her back. She needed answers from someone she knew she could trust. With the beaded bag stowed away safely in her pocket, she went downstairs.
"I'm going to Ron's for lunch. Not sure when I'll be back."
Her mother looked up from the newspaper she was reading with an amused smirk.
"You seem to have your hands full of handsome wizards, darling. Do you think Thorfinn would be jealous to know you're meeting Ron?"
Hermione rolled her eyes with a heavy sigh. Even just the thought of seeing Rowle again made her sick to her stomach. It would be better for everyone if their paths never crossed as long as they were each alive. The next time she saw him, she was certain there would be blood shed.
"Do you think Ron and this other chap might actually duel each other for the honor of your company?"
It was bad enough when it was just her mother teasing, but adding her father was unbearable. If they knew the truth about what Rowle was, they wouldn't be teasing or laughing. She'd been careful not to tell them about the dangerous parts of her world. As far as she was aware, they'd never even heard the term 'Death Eater'. Left up to her, she would keep it that way.
"I would curse them both myself if they even dared."
"That's my girl."
Her father leaned down to kiss the top of her head when she passed him in the kitchen on her way to the back door. Unable to be annoyed with either of them for very long, Hermione even allowed herself to smile. She was going to miss them and their terrible jokes. Suddenly feeling choked up at the thought of what was to come, she rushed outside. The fresh air helped calm her down enough to Disapparate.
Lots of activity greeted her moments later at the Burrow. With so many permanent residents and frequent guests, it was usually a busy place. Hermione welcomed the chaos. It was much easier to keep her mind occupied there than at home. There would be a wedding in a short time and serious preparations were needed to ensure Harry would be safe when they brought him there before his seventeenth birthday and the protections he was under living with his aunt ceased to work. She knew Kingsley and Moody were going to be there to increase the protective wards. It was a relief to see Moody across the garden.
The very moment Hermione passed through the garden gate Molly called everyone inside for lunch. When the older witch spotted the new arrival, she smiled and waved her inside. At the magically expanded table in the kitchen there was only one seat left open. The Weasleys who weren't at work made it a point not to sit next to Mad-Eye Moody. Just as they had in the old headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, none of them wanted to be caught in an awkward, uncomfortable conversation with the old auror. Hermione was grateful for the seat.
"Professor… Mr. Moody, may I have a private word with you after lunch?"
All he offered her in response was a grunt, but she knew he was agreeing. Never had a meal seemed to take so long. For days, she'd had little appetite and even less patience. Any other day she might have been able to enjoy the delicious lunch. It was pleasant and the conversation interesting. If she hadn't been able to feel the constant weight of the beaded bag in her pocket she might have even been able to forget for a short time that they were in the middle of a war.
After lunch, Hermione followed the former auror into the lounge. Everyone made sure to give them their privacy as they returned to whatever tasks they were working on prior to the meal. Hermione was grateful for their courtesy. As soon as they were alone, she pushed the beaded bag into his hands.
"I was hoping you might be able to check this bag for any curses or spells I might've missed."
Moody's one natural eye narrowed as he stared at her for several seconds. The scrutiny made her want to fidget but she somehow managed to stop herself. More questions would be asked the more bizarre her behavior. He wouldn't rest until he got all of the answers out of her and she didn't want the bag to be tied back to any Death Eater. Especially not Rowle.
"Did you buy this from one of the peddlers in Diagon Alley? Most of their magic items do more harm than good."
"Oh no, nothing like that. I just want to be extra vigilant."
That was the perfect response. Nodding once in approval, Moody began casting a series of detection spells. Each one made her worry he was going to find something terribly wrong. She was being foolish even contemplating keeping the bag. Rowle didn't really care if she was safe. It was just a big ruse, a way to hurt her and prevent Harry from being successful in his quest to end Voldemort.
"There's nothing unusual or dangerous about this bag, Miss Granger. I can only find an undetectable extension spell and a spell to lighten the contents within. It's very safe. Safe enough that I would feel confident using it myself."
"Thank you."
Though she felt immense relief knowing the bag was safe, she couldn't ignore the confusion that still remained. What game was Rowle playing at? She wasn't convinced that he gave her the bag solely because he wanted her to run away and be safe. Unable to stop herself, she blurted out part of the truth. She didn't know why, but she wanted to tell Moody.
"Someone I wouldn't consider a friend gave me this bag and told me I should pack up everything I own and run."
"And are you considering doing that?"
"Absolutely not! I made a promise to help Harry and I intend to keep it."
She hated how tempting it was to think about running away. They were in the middle of a war. People were already dying. Did it make her a bad person to wish she could escape what was coming with her parents? Even wondering in her head made her feel like the worst friend ever.
"Do you know what the strongest force in the universe is, Miss Granger?"
It had to be a trick question. Hermione didn't know how to answer. She tried to think about all of the discussions she'd had over her life with those she respected and admired. Had they told her the answer before?
"Is it love?"
She didn't expect the loud outburst of laughter out of the former auror. Alastor Moody wasn't the sort to usually laugh at all and certainly not in such a boisterous manner. It was weird. At least half a minute passed before Moody was able to stop laughing. The twinkle in his one normal eye wasn't something she expected to see.
"It's easy to forget how young you actually are at times."
If there was anything more annoying than having an adult laugh in her face and imply she was naïve or foolish, Hermione didn't know what it was. The temptation to cram the beaded bag down Moody's throat until he choked was strong. How dare he? She wished she'd never asked the wizard anything.
"Thank you for your help, Mr. Moody. I won't take up any more of your valuable time."
She picked up the beaded bag. Before she could take a single step away, Moody grabbed the bag too. Either she had to risk ripping the bag or stop trying to walk away. Though it was difficult to remain, she didn't want the bag to be damaged.
"It wasn't meant as an insult. I envy your youth. If I could go back in time to when I was your age, dragons couldn't stop me."
"If love isn't the strongest force in the universe, what is?"
Moody sighed and let go of the bag. When Hermione didn't immediately run, he was encouraged enough to answer.
"Desire, Miss Granger."
"But you said love wasn't…"
"Desire is not love. They aren't the same. For some, love is their greatest desire. For others, it's power or wealth or peace. Everyone is different in what they desire, but they're all the same when it comes to their desires making them vulnerable."
Hermione didn't understand what he was getting at. The man had always been strange according to those that had known him for years, but he'd only gotten worse after being locked in his own trunk for so many months. Should she put any stock in anything he had to say?
"Desires can be exploited. Figure out what an enemy desires most of all and you can use that to your advantage. The person who gave you that bag isn't a friend you said?"
"No, they're not."
"If their greatest desire was to see you harmed, they wouldn't have given you a valuable and thoughtful gift that could very well save your life. Find out what their greatest desire is and you might have an answer to why they did what they did."
Trying to figure out Thorfinn Rowle's desires wasn't exactly a task she wanted. Not only was she unsuccessfully trying to convince herself that she didn't care, she was afraid. What horrible, depraved desires did a Death Eater possess? She didn't want to know.
"Do you know what you desire most of all, Miss Granger?"
It wasn't an easy question to answer. Once she might have claimed her greatest desire was knowledge and the pursuit of gaining more of it, but even that didn't feel entirely true. She desired to be accepted, to not be seen as an oddity, a freak. With Muggles, even before she knew she was a witch, she felt like she didn't belong. At Hogwarts, finally around others like her, she still felt like she was strange. Her greatest desire was to prove she belonged. It was sad if she really thought about it for long. Shouldn't her desires be less superficial?
"Right now I suppose my greatest desire is to help keep Harry alive."
Moody nodded once in approval. It was the truth after all. Her other desires didn't matter as long as there was a way to fight and Harry to help and protect.
"What is your greatest desire, Mr. Moody?"
The question seemed to come out of her entirely on its own. Hermione knew she was asking a highly personal question that was none of her business, but she couldn't deny she was curious to know what motivated the bizarre wizard. Moody's eyes focused on her for several tense, uncomfortable seconds. Would he attack her, verbally or otherwise, for being so forward? She knew he was generally a very private person. There was a reason why so few knew anything about him. The corner of his mouth twitched. For a moment, she thought he might laugh again.
"When I was younger, if you can believe it, I was one of those fools who desired the love of a good witch more than anything."
She didn't believe it. At least not at first. Not only was it difficult to imagine Mad-Eye Moody as a young wizard, she couldn't imagine him ever being in love. It was all too weird to consider. A low chuckle finally came out of Moody's mouth. Less disconcerting than his full laughter, she still felt unnerved by the sound.
"Even I was young once."
Moody reached into the pocket of his robes to remove a watch on an ornate silver chain. He pressed a button to open the battered timepiece. Tucked inside the watch's cover was a small photograph of a much younger Moody with both eyes and an unblemished nose actually smiling at a striking witch with flawless dark skin and deep brown eyes. She kept smirking at the younger, besotted Moody. Highly personal, Hermione wondered how few people he'd shown that picture to over the years.
"Her name was Dorcas Meadowes. Should've married her when I had the chance, but when you're young, you think you have all the time in the world."
"What happened?"
"Voldemort murdered her during the first war. It was my fault for letting her get mixed up with the Order too."
Moody stared at the photograph for another few seconds before shutting the watch. Any hint he'd ever smiled or laughed disappeared from his face. A sickening feeling settled in Hermione's stomach. She had to know even if she was sure the answer would be difficult to hear.
"And what's your greatest desire now?"
"The same as it's been since my Dorcas died… revenge."
Perhaps embarrassed by his candor, Moody cleared his throat and rushed back out to the garden without saying another word. Hermione couldn't blame him for any of it. Though she hadn't experienced the kind of love he clearly had, she could imagine how devastating it was to lose someone she loved, especially if she felt responsible for their death. The weight of that tragedy must have been choking. Was it any wonder the wizard made it his life's purpose to hunt and punish Death Eaters? She couldn't fault him for being so singularly-minded.
"Are you all right?"
Ron's concerned voice broke her out of her downward spiraling thoughts. Glad for the distraction, she tried to smile and assure him everything was fine. He was perceptive enough to not buy it, but kind enough not to push her for answers.
"Can I show you something Dad and I have been working on?"
She nodded her head and took the hand he offered. Feeling human touch helped calm her somewhat. At least she didn't feel as if she was so alone. Up the narrow staircase she followed him all the way to the top. Ron released her hand to pull down the ladder to the attic. Confused but undeniably curious, she climbed up the ladder behind him.
"We've been keeping it a secret from Mum for now, but eventually we're going to have to tell her."
"Ron, what is..?"
A pitiful-looking creature covered in frightening sores wearing what looked like a pair of Ron's old pajamas lay in the corner of the crowded, dusty space. Hermione didn't understand what she was even looking at. Her first instinct was to run away and never look back.
"Dad suspects they'll come looking for me when we don't go to Hogwarts. The family could be in danger if they think I'm with Harry. It was Dad's idea mostly. We charmed the ghoul to look like me with a bad case of spattergroit. Nasty disease. No one would want to get close enough to check for sure it's me. They'll be scared they'll catch it too."
She didn't know what to say. The plan wasn't perfect, but she couldn't deny it might actually work. It was all so unfair. Why did Ron have to resort to such drastic measures to protect his family? They shouldn't be caught up in a war. And Harry? What was done to him his entire life made her so angry she could hardly breathe. Too much was being asked of them.
"I'm…"
Before she could give him any explanation about what she planned to do to keep her own parents safe, the words wouldn't come. A heavy wave of sadness and anger mixed with fear crashed over her, leaving her choked with emotion. How could she even admit to what she was going to do out loud? It was too horrible. Ron might even try to talk her out of it and she knew she wasn't strong enough to fight back. Not when it came to the horrible violation she was actually considering committing. If Ron told her she shouldn't do it, she knew she would lose all nerve.
Years as her friend taught Ron how to read the signs when she was upset. At least usually. He was still a teenage boy after all and it would be a few more years before he was all grown up. But standing in the attic he knew she was struggling even before the annoying tears that had plagued her her entire life began to fall. Wrapping his gangly arms around her to hold her tight against his chest, once again he reminded her that she wasn't alone in the world no matter how much it felt that way at times.
Neither of them spoke while they clung to each other in the attic. It was nice. When he heard his mother shouting his name, the magic of the moment was broken. Each rung down the ladder brought more dread back to her stomach. She knew she was only getting closer to the final decision she had to make. Hermione thanked Molly for allowing her to stay for lunch and despite further invitations to remain longer, she returned home.
Every second Hermione was awake for the next several days was devoted to some sort of preparation. Only a few days, a week maybe, was left before she had to walk away from her parents. If she wasn't packing the beaded bag, she was studying the memory charms. She was terrified that she would make an irrevocable mistake if she wasn't careful. Even if she knew it was likely a futile hope, she wanted to be able to find them again to remove the spells if she survived.
The longer she delayed casting the memory spells, the more nerve she continued to lose. Hermione was certain she was making a mistake even just thinking about stripping their memories. There had to be another way. Each time her dad made a terrible joke or her mum teased her, she felt less capable of casting the spells. What if she ruined their memories entirely? One of the horrible side effects she read about was permanent amnesia. She could take everything away from her parents with a single mistake.
Another late hour found her pacing her room with the spell book in her hands. Her parents had both gone to bed over an hour earlier, but she couldn't even think about sleeping. There was far too much on her mind. Even when she tried to close her eyes, it never lasted long.
A movement outside caught her eye. Well after midnight, no one lurking around her back garden would be up to any good. She tried to make it look like her attention was focused elsewhere as she used her peripheral vision to determine if her late-night visitor was an animal or human. The instant she saw the massive wizard step under the light of the lamppost to announce his arrival, she knew Thorfinn Rowle was back.
What was his game? Moody encouraged her to determine what the Death Eater's desire was, but she didn't even know where to begin figuring that out without just asking him outright. A scan of the rest of the garden didn't show he'd brought any friends, but she knew she couldn't be too careful. A little frightened, but mostly annoyed, she tiptoed past her parents' silent bedroom. Careful to avoid the squeaky step, she felt confident no one inside would know where she was going.
It was foolish to meet a known Death Eater in private. Especially one that didn't even need magic to kill her painfully. One harsh squeeze of her delicate throat with his hand would be the end of her if she wasn't on her guard. He leaned against the tree she climbed down the last time he dropped by unannounced. His smirk at her drawn wand only lingered for a moment. Whatever the reason he was there, she knew it was serious.
"You shouldn't still be here, Princess."
"This is my home. If anyone shouldn't be here, it's you, Rowle."
His sigh was heavy with frustration.
"Be thankful I'm the one here and not someone else. It's not safe for you here any longer. Take your parents and run. Or just run by yourself. Doesn't matter to me."
"What do you care? Why are you back here?"
"Because I knew you would be too stubborn to go. Do you even know what would happen to you if you're caught here?"
She didn't want to think of the possibilities. It was too frightening. Her stomach churned just imagining he was Antonin Dolohov or the insane Bellatrix Lestrange. They would probably murder her parents in front of her just to torture her a little more.
"If I have to, I'll drag you away from here myself. I could lock you in my flat."
"Why? Why are you so concerned about what happens to me? We're not on the same. Remember?"
"I know what's coming. I know what's going to be done to you and everyone else who thinks there's any hope in fighting."
There was something that sounded like worry, fear, in his voice. How was that even possible? He was one of the baddies. All of his mates were too. More and more she was convinced he was simply playing a part in a sick, twisted psychological game to separate her from Harry. Next she was going to find Draco Malfoy waiting next to the garage or Antonin Dolohov would be under her bed like all of the other monsters she feared.
"You're running out of time, Princess. Something big is about to happen and when it does, if you're still here, you're going to wish you'd listened to me."
She was wasting time listening to him. That was for certain. Angry that he wouldn't leave her alone and suddenly very tired all the way to her bones, Hermione turned her back on him to go inside. She was no closer to understanding what sort of desire he possessed that meant he had to keep harassing her nor did she think she wanted to know. Two steps away, the wizard's hand clasped around her wrist. One tug and she was flush against his chest. He was in no hurry to let her go.
"If I find you here tomorrow night, you're coming with me to my flat."
"That's a fight you would never win."
His smirk returned. She still loathed the fact that she found him attractive. It wasn't fair. Monsters were supposed to be ugly.
"Oh, I would definitely win and I would have fun doing so."
Hermione rolled her eyes. His meaning couldn't be thicker if he'd applied it was a spoon. Thoughts of the brute's large hands touching parts of her body other than her wrist ran through her mind, shaming her in the process. She wrenched her wrist out of his grasp.
"Leave me alone, Rowle. I don't need you to come check up on me."
Before she could even turn back around, Rowle ripped the book she still held in her other hand. It had become such a part of her in recent days she hadn't even noticed she brought it downstairs with her. When he opened it up to the page she had bookmarked, she tried to grab it. Using his height to his advantage, he merely held it up out of her reach. With each passing second that he read what she'd been studying, she felt ashamed. What she was considering doing was wrong on many, many levels.
"Is this how you're going to protect your parents?"
All she could do was nod her head. She didn't trust herself to speak. The wizard closed the book and handed it back to her.
"Good. Do it immediately. Get them out of here. Your mum seems sweet. I'd hate to hear that someone like Yaxley got to her."
For a moment, she thought she might actually believe him. What sort of Death Eater was he anyway? A bloody terrible one, it seemed. He watched her walk back to the kitchen door. By the time she turned around to lock the door behind her, there was no sign of him in the garden.
Somehow she was able to fall asleep that night. She had no idea how. After her unusual visit, she returned to her bedroom to lay down. With all of her clothes still on, she fell deep asleep. Was she just needing permission from someone else to cast the memory spells to release her anxiety?
If she lived to be a thousand, she would never forget every second that next evening when she finally worked up the courage to cast the memory spells. The beaded bag was packed and tucked safely inside her pocket. Everything in her bedroom that might have given her parents a clue that they had a daughter was destroyed or packed away. She hugged each of her parents only minutes before she pointed her wand at the back of their heads. They'd thought she was being funny. Theirs wasn't exactly the most affectionate of families.
Once it was done and the two people she never wished to hurt were slowly coming out of the fog of the charms, Hermione had to get quickly away from her childhood home. If she stayed any longer, she might be foolish enough to reverse the spells and tell them the truth about everything. It wasn't fair of her to put them in that horrible position.
Completely numb, she started walking down the familiar pavement. At the end of the street as she passed by a large hedge, two hands reached out to grab her. Knowing it was Rowle at once, she struggled. If he thought he was going to actually drag her back to his flat, he would be surprised. But he wasn't fighting. His hands, large though they might be, were gentle. He held her against his chest, offering her what comfort he could.
It was tempting to give in to the embrace. She could feel the tears prick at the corners of her eyes, ready to roll down her cheeks. No one else in the world except for him knew what she'd just done. Disgusted with herself for even thinking about trying to find some peace with the enemy, Hermione pressed hard against his chest with both of her hands. He dropped his arms.
"Don't you dare touch me."
As far as she was aware, he didn't follow her as she kept walking. Maybe he did, but he was discreet enough she didn't notice. Unsure what to do next and not ready to confess her crimes to her friends, she just kept walking. Hours passed. The sun set and the rest of the world prepared itself for bed.
She wasn't sure how late it finally was when she knew she was no longer safe enough to keep wandering. Finding a dark corner, she thought about the Burrow. Within seconds she was standing just outside the protective enchantments surrounding the home. There was no resistance to stepping through the gate. All of the lights in the crooked house were out. The residents were likely tucked safely in bed. It felt wrong to disturb them. She stood at the fence, staring at the world beyond. Had she done the right thing?
Ron found her shortly after she arrived. Between choking sobs, she explained what she'd done to her parents. He held her tightly in his arms. When she was calmer, he snuck her inside and up into his room. She wanted to tell him how grateful she was for his support, but feared she would only start crying if she spoke. Falling asleep in his arms was easier than she expected.