"Who are you" - 54 College Rd, Birmingham B44 8BS 02.25 0
Chapter 3: Sortilège de Cœur Magique Éclairé
"In the laughter of children, you'll find the purest notes of magic, echoing through the corridors of innocence."
Hermione swished her wand delicately, murmuring under her breath.
The little girl, maybe no more than six, looked up at Hermione, her big brown eyes filled with awe as small iridescent butterflies spluttered out from Hermione's wand dancing around the little girl's brown locks. She turned, a toothy smile lighting up her face as she started chasing after one, laughing with every hurried step. Bearly a step away from Hermione, a little honey-blond boy named Hugo was jumping up and down trying to capture the butterflies while his friend Trevor was trying to lure them closer with toy flowers. Two older girls around 10 were wishfully watching the flying butterflies while playing with their pretend tea set that saw better days. The cups were chipped and Hermione could barely make out the ornate flower design on them that once, she was sure looked beautiful. She knew that the little girl on the right was Sofia who had been in the safe house for months and shared Hermione's interest in books. Her burgundy hair was up in a high ponytail which she tugged on periodically as a nervous tick, and today she wore a blue top with the jeans Hermione saw on her every time she visited. The other girl sitting with a straight back, whom Hermione only met once was Celest. With midnight black hair down to her waist and almond eyes, she looked at the teacup like it offended her, while shyly glancing at the little creatures flying around them. Still, Hermione even saw her hiding a smile as a small butterfly landed on her teacup and fluttered its multi-coloured wing. Hermione knew wasn't the best with kids, and the only winning quality she held was her advanced magic the kids absolutely adored, but still somehow, every couple of months she found herself here for one reason or another.
The safe house set on the edge of England was of the largest the Order owned through the years. Nestled in the countryside, with its exterior cloaked in ivy hiding the now aged red bricks it just looked like an abandoned building to the stay muggle. The white-trimmed windows, many of them with small, cracked panes, offered a glimpse into the warm glow of the interior to whoever approached the safe house and stepped over the Fidelius charm's borders. On warm spring days, Hermione loved being in the somewhat overgrown garden, which in the spring is a wild mix of roses, daisies and lavender with high grass perfect for kids to play hide and seek in. When Hermione first arrived here and saw the inside it was cold, full of dusty furniture and a distant memory of a happy family. Now, it was warm, with fire crackling in the fireplace, lights always on, children's laughter always coming from somewhere, and a permanent cookie smell on the walls. She saw small touches of children all over the place, the smear of finders at the stars, the little crayon marks on the coffee table, the lines indicating the growth of the kids in the entryway, and all the mismatched plates decorating the kitchen table whenever supper was held. Somehow, it reminded her of Hogwarts and maybe for that reason alone she returned even when she didn't need to.
She stood lifting her old leather bag with her, giving one more glance to the children around her, and waiving to Sofie, who was the only one noticing her departure. It was good that way. She went around the warm orange couch, putting the pillows back in their places for good measure. She stepped over some loose crayons and papers and straightened a vase that was about to fall from the side table. Leaving the warmth behind, she darted around the hallways that took up the house, searching for Minerva's office. She had a reason to be there, and even if it was a small one she wanted to get it done. The hallway was filled with a vivid floral wallpaper, and moving pictures of old wizards and witches. Hermione knew that once this was a magical residence, but she did not recognize the family in the pictures, and somehow nobody ever mentioned them. She was just grateful the pictures weren't blood supremacist, because shouting nasty things at the kids would be unacceptable. Most of the doors were closed and behind them Hermione could hear murmuring, or children's laughter, and on some occasions the whispers of tears. She would always stop in front of those doors. Always listen for a minute and just.. well she's supposed, to be there. Whoever was on the other side of the door probably never knew, but Hermione wanted to believe they could feel the comfort of another person there, even if the conscious mind didn't process it, even if they thought nobody cared.
Now, Hermione stood before Minerva's door and knocked carefully. She would have loved to barge in but in respect to the children's privacy, she didn't. She never knew when someone was in or if some sensitive information was on display. She loved knowledge but she knew it was dangerous to know everything. As she waited for the answer, she studied the splinters in the old mahogany door, and smiled at the dirty fingerprints around the door handle, indicating sometimes even the toddlers visited her.
"Come in" came the answer after a heartbeat and Hermione carefully stepped into the now familiar office. The room was lit by a combination of softly glowing crystal orbs and the warm, flickering light of numerous candles spread out, and floating in the air. Shelves adorned with dusty, leather-bound tomes and ancient scrolls were lining the walls right next to scribbles and drawings Hermione guessed the children made for Minerva. The windows had been draped with heavy velvet curtains embroidered with constellations, which were gently filtering the disappearing daylight into the space. The centrepiece of the room was a large, weathered wooden desk, where piles of parchment, quills, and inkwells had been neatly arranged, right next to trinkets and keepsakes from kids, some even coming from Hogwarts. At one end of the room, a fireplace crackled with a warm and welcoming fire, and above it, a tapestry depicted a forest, where children had frolicked with fantastical creatures.
Stopping mid-writing Minerva looked up at her from behind her glasses. A small smile touched Hermione's lips at the sight of her old professor.
"I am so happy you could stop by" She folded her glasses neatly, placing them on the papers.
"I go where I am needed" Hermione shrugged and walked over to her and hugged her.
Since the war fully broke out they became so much closer, and when you never know when is the last time you see someone you get a lot less stuffy about titles like "professor", even Minerva McGonagall.
"Sit down," Minerva gestured to the maroon armchair at the opposite end of the table " Lemon drop?" She offered Hermione the small candy. With a reminiscent smile, Hermione accepted the candy and put it in her pocket for later. She sat down, dropping her bag next to herself, and leaning back into the pillows and cushions she almost sighed in relief.
"How are things?" she asked, glancing down at the paperwork Minerva left unfinished.
"As good as they can be," her old professor sighed. "We are getting more and more children, and this house can only hold so much."
"You're thinking about letting them work before 16?" Hermione asked because that was the only possible solution really. Currently, all children who arrived and were under 16, and did not have a parent or guardian who was present enough to take care of them got sent to Minerva. Children over 16 could decide to join the Order in some capacity, go into hiding, or stay and help out with the little ones.
"God no" Minerva cringed "If it were up to me"She looked into Hermione's eyes with seriousness "No children under 18 would fight in this way, and even you are too young for this"
Hermione shrugged because there was no good answer for that. She knew she was young but she didn't feel like it. The war was so constant, and it felt so never-ending Hermione felt like she lived way more years than her papers ever stated Some days it felt like a lifetime since her days at Hogwarts, others it felt like yesterday that she was rushing to advance transfiguration and hoping Proferrom Mcgonaggal wouldn't be too mad at her.
"No matter " Minerva bristled, putting a lemon drop into her mouth "You didn't come for me to lecture you right?"
"Right," Hermione breathed with a smile "How many are here currently?"
"Oh well" Minerva swissed her wand and under an inkpot a parchment wrestled its way out floating in front of Minerva. "We are currently housing 47 children permanently and 10 or so periodically. From this, we have eighteen who are between ten and fifteen, thirteen who are between five and six, and we have sixteen under five." With a flick of her wand, she transported the lise to Hemrione's hand so she could look it over
"And you owned it because of the latest arrivals?" Hermione asked while glancing at the bottom of the paper trying to distinguish new names from the old ones. Whenever new children came she did too, examining them, healing their cuts and sometimes just talking to them. Most of them knew who she was and it made them happy to see a "War Hero ''. Some resented her for it, but she was fine with that. She also knew Minerva could have easily attended to these kids herself, and the nannies here had enough training to heal smaller things so they didn't really need her. But Minerva also knew Hermione and that even if she would never say it out loud, she needed them, needed this break from the war, from discarded libs and blood-chilling screams to just heal a few cuts and small bruises with toothy toddlers and mean thirteen-year-olds.
"Yes, yes' ' Minerva summoned three other papers, levitating them into Hermione's hands. "A few days ago a sibling pair arrived, a little girl Felicia who is nine, and her brother Felix who should be around 3. '' Hermione glanced at their admission paper, sifting through all the information there, noticing nothing too notable thankfully "The third is an infant we received last night"
Hermione's hands froze mid-movement and her head snapped up to see if Minerva was joking, she was not. "What?"
"That was my reaction too, Hermione. It appears her mother died at birth, the father was killed during the raid, and merely hours old the babe was collected by order members and brought her" Minerva stood, making Hermione more with her "I just need you to look over her, to see everything went well in birth and she doesn't have any magical defects"
Hermione nodded lifting her bag she followed Minerva out of the room her brain going in all directions. Even for regular kids bonding with the mother was important it boosted their health and made an emotional connection boosting the baby's development long term. Hermione wasn't an expert on babies and pregnancy since in war times not many wanted to start a family, but she knew this bonging time, this first hour was even more important to magical babies. This was when their magical core resonated with their mothers, and made it more stable leading to less magical bursts later in life, and once she even read it was crucial to maintain the health of one's magical core.
As the door opened Hermione got sucked out of her head at the sight of a little boy who stumbled in, looking like he was caught red-handed. He was around three with dark brown hair curling around his ears, and big chocolate eyes looking up at Hermione in fear. They quickly snapped to Minerva and then warmed with recognition.
"Mcgaggal" the little boy ran over to Minerva and started tugging at her robes, looking up at her expectantly " She here to heal Fifi?"
Hermione looked down and sorrow threatened to suffice her.
"Yes, my dear "Minerva crouched down looking the boy directly in the eye "She is here to figure out what's wrong with Felicia" She took a deep breath, glancing at Hermione and then back to the boy "Let her see her first and then we can see if she can heal her, okay Felix?"
"Uhum" the little boy bobbed his head.
"Hi, Felix" Hermione crushed down, gently placing the bag in reaching distance. "Is it okay if I check you out too?"
The boy looked at her sceptically and then looked up at Minerva for approval. She nodded, so Felix let go of her robe and waddled closer to Hermione.
"Vitalus Revelio" Hermione whispered, a gold glow flowing out of her wand. On top, the the boy's head, numbers, appeared indicating his heart rate, temperature, and breathing. He Looked up in wonder and Hermione smiled while reading the vitals. Nothing was amiss, his heart rate was a bit high, but Hermione gave that to the excitement. She dismantled the vitels, and stood, looking at Minerva, then back at Felix.
"Perfectly healthy" She put her wand back into its holster.
"Yay!" Felix exclaimed "Now, Fifi" he cast expectant eyes at Hermione and then slowly waddled out of the room, showing the way.
"This way" Minerva gestured toward the little boy, and she exited the room first following after him. Hermione quickly noticed that they weren't going toward the small infirmary that had been set up here for emergencies but truth be told, she barely saw the room a handful of times. Minerva mostly kept the sick and injured children in their new rooms, and Hermione understood the sentiment deeply. Even though her parents were dentists, and a hospital waiting room didn't freak her out, not even at ten, when she got to the hospital with a broken arm she was so scared. Everything was big and loud, and people were rushing and others crying and even though now she is working, and living in much worse conditions, she would have done everything to just stay in her room and let the doctor come to her.
They arrived at a staircase and Felix looked up at Minerva stretching his small hand up. Minerva scooped him up without hesitation, bringing him upstairs with them. Hermione's nerves were all over the place, she wasn't sure what to expect. Minerva didn't look scared, nor did she hurry so Hermione knew it was not an emergency, but she still had nightmares about being late, about not being able to save them, so she took big steps eating up the stairs. By the looks Felix was okay, with no bruises or cuts and a high spirit but she still felt like something was off. They started their climb deeper into the house Felix cheerfully pointed out which door belonged to who, and which painting was nice, and which was, in his words "Grump gurmps". There were many hallways at different stages of decay, and Hermione swore one was like stepping into the Victorian era, and the second was like one that was just built in the eighties. Magical houses often got extended by magical means, and even now she could feel the hum of magic under the floorboards.
Hermione gasped and almost stopped in her tracks as a girl stared at her through a door frame at the corner of the hallway door frame. She was maybe fifteen with icy blond hair and blue eyes, and she looked at Hermione like she was the enemy.
"That is Maybelline " Minerva appeared next to her, casting a small smile at the child "She just got to us a few days ago, and she is still adjusting to our.. situation"
"Hi Ma-be-li!" Felix waved his chubby hands toward the girl. She just glanced at him, then returned to staring into Hermione's soul.
Hermione nodded gravely, noting the bruises on the girl's hands, and the speck of blood on her light blue nightgown. She opened her mouth to offer healing them but Minerva's look silenced her. Yeah, there had to be a reason why Minerva didn't tell her about Maybelline. Hermione smiled at the girl, as they continued the journey through the house, trying to shake the feeling of being watched. Suddenly Minerva stopped in front of a blue door colored with flowers and birds and Hermione looked around expectedly.
"Just a second" she said, and she opened the door and carried Felix inside. Hermione could see this was a nursery of some sort, a few other toddlers played on the floor while a witch around Hermione's age cast watchful eyes at them. She was tall and lanky, with straight chestnut brown hair and a mouse-like face. Minerva handed her Felix and shared a few hushed words with her. She suddenly looked up, her blue eyes bearing into Hermione's. The witch looked surprised, and she clutched Felix closer to herself like Hermione herself was the enemy. She was used to this, in secluded areas it was easy the feel the war a distant thing, something that couldn't touch you. When Hermione appeared, they felt like she was bringing was to their doorstep, and she learned long ago that she represented war, and people would always despize her for it. Hermione squirmed as Minerva said her last words and exited the room, closing the door carefully behind her.
"Sorry, I needed to drop Felix off before we got to Felicia"
"It okay" Hermione looked back, shaking the chill from herself as she followed Minerva onward.
After three staircases, four side hallways, and one overly large sitting room which was suspiciously deserted they arrived in front of a nondescript door which, if Hermione saw correctly, was decorated with a single flower drawn with yellow crayons at the bottom. She smiled, and at Minerva's encouraging nod opened the door to the room.
It was a really small and simple one with a desk and chair in the corner, and a single bed in the middle, where a little girl sat, braiding her own chestnut brown hair. She looked up at the sound and Hermione saw very similar eyes to Felixes. She smiled and stopped in the doorway not wanting to invade the girl's space without permission. Even from there she saw a few bruises on the girl and noticed that her right hand didn't move correctly.
"Felicia, this is the friend I talked to you about " Minerva stood next to bed " She is Hermione, and she is a healer for the Order"
"I know who you are," Felicia said plainly. Hermione didn't detect any malice in her voice but was a bit taken aback by the coldness. Her eyes missed the warmth her brother had, and Hermione said wisdom in them no nine-year-old should have.
"Hi" Hermine breathed forcing a smile on herself "I like your braid" Hermione commented trying to build at least some trust up. Felicia blushed and hid her hair being her shoulder. That is when Hermione saw the gash there. It was kind of healed, it wasn't bloody, but it was not perfect she saw the oink indicator of an infection waiting to come.
"Where is Felix?" Felicia asked her eyes on Minerva.
"He is in the nursery with Mrs. Abigal, you do no need to fret about him"
"Felicia" Hermione started softly, stepping deeper into the room "Would you mind if I took a look at your shoulder?"
The little girl's eyes widened, and she scooped her hair back up, covering it. She cast an accusatory glance at Minerva and then looked back at her.
"She is not going to hurt you" Minerva said in a soothing voice " She is an excellent healer" Even in a situation like this the compliment flooded Hermione with pride she barely felt these days. Slowly Felicia nodded and pulled down the oversized shirt she was wearing to show Hermione the gash. Hermione stepped close but didn't touch her, she didn't dare to. The gash looked bad, and she could tell it was mended maybe by a field healer, but mostly likely a soiled with basic medical training. She sighed and brought up her vitals in front of her. She had an elevated temperature and heart rate but nothing too alarming, and as she looked at the diagnostic for the wound she was glad to see that no muscles fused together incorrectly. Hermione waved her wand casting a non-verbal Tergeo and a rush of blue light came out of it coating the wound and cleansing it from any debris. Felicia hissed and Hermione looked at her apologetically.
"It is not as bad as it looks, " she said studying the pink mark "I will need you to drink an antiseptic potion so you won't get an infection" Hermione crouched next to the bag she dropped in the doorway, opening it. The small bag was full of pre-brewed potions, ingredients for quick potion pastes, and the undetectable extension charm made Hermione's healer bag a mini infirmary. She quickly took out the potion, looking through the bag again " And I will give you some dittany paste, that someone will have to put on it until the redness disappears" Finding the paste, she quickly pulled it out, standing.
"I told you" Felicia looked at Minerva accusingly "I am fine"
"You will be fine, once Hermione finished" Minerva answered.
Hermione smiled, putting the potion in the little girl's hand.
"It might not taste good, but please drink it all, okay?"
Felicia nodded, nocking back the position. She grimaced, placing the empty vital into Hermione's hand. "Good, she dropped the vial into her pocket "Not I will put the paste on your shoulder. It might hurt, and I will be careful, but I just don't want to scare you."
"Okay," Felicia muttered.
Hermione took her wand out and with its help disperse the Murlap paste on the wound. Felicia hissed but held perfectly still. When the whole wound was covered Hermione muttered a quick "Protego Sanitatem" sealing the wound and protecting it from dirt. She stepped away, glancing a smile at Falicia and packing her bag back up. She glanced at Felicia's hands and her head squeezed.
"Can I heal your other bruises too?" Hermione asked Felicia, who barely nodded.
Hermione got the bruise removal paste and put it in her tiny hands.
"If you rub this on your bruises, they will disappear instantly. There should be more than enough for you" Hermine stood, with her bag on her shoulder.
She felt proud even though she practically did nothing. But she saw Felicia got more comfortable and did sit with an uncomfortably straight spine anymore.
"Felicia, what do we say?" Minerva whispered
"Thank you" Felicia whispered, barely looking at Hermione
"It's nothing" Hermione smiled "Your elevated temperature should die down in a few days you should be perfectly healthy. " she looked at Minerva " If she spikes a fever please-"
"Yes, I will owl you, don't worry"
Hermione adjusted her bag and exited the room leaving a much happier Felicia behind. Now she just needed to see the infant, and she would be done. Even if she loved being here it always drained her. Pretending that everything was fine, pretending happiness for the children's sake took something out of her, and she always needed a few days to kind of feel herself again.
She hadn't felt like herself in months but she showed that thought away.
Minerva led her to another room on the bottom floor of the safe house, from which cries echoed out over sung lullabies. Hermione didn't have time to prepare before the door opened and they entered the real nursery. Walls adorned with whimsical murals brought playful scenes to life, while a soft palette of pastels danced across the room, casting a soothing spell on the children. Vintage cribs, restored and adorned with hand-knitted blankets and pillows occupied the room with changing tables and plushies. At the moment, there were only three babies occupying it, and all of them were under 6 months old. Hermione's heart squeezed looking at their small faces, tiny frames, so innocent and yet here, without loving parents. A wich was standing over one of the cribs trying to soothe the crying baby with a hummed lullaby. She was a plum woman about Mrs Weasley's age with dark skin, and braided hair twisted up on top of her head. She had a smile line, and even as she tried picking the flailing baby up and rocking her. She cast a motherly look at Hermione and walked away with a little girl, sitting them down in the corner and giving the baby a pacifier.
Minerva wordlessly led her to one of the cribs and looked into it and Hermione tried to prepare. As she glanced down her heart literary broke. A newborn, a literary newborn, slept there with a tuft of black hair, and a body so small Hermione feared she could break it if she touched it.
"Does she have a name?" she glanced at Minerva.
"We have been calling her Abigal" Minerva put her hand next to her, and Abigel grabbed into her finers with her tiny hand,
Hermiona cast a silent charm showing Abigal's vitals which were thankfully perfectly normal. She cast a different version of the charm, showing her the Abigal's brain neurons and reflexes and she scrutinized it for anything amiss. She couldn't let herself miss anything. It couldn't be her fault that this baby grew up unhealthy.
"Does everything look alright?" Minerva whispered next to her, trying not to wake her.
"Yes" Hermione breathed looking over the sleeping form again "Just.. let me try one more thing"
Minerva didn't know she only learned this spell a few weeks ago, and she was rather shaky with it because it was a rather complex spell but she had to check. After Harry, she had to check.
"Sortilège de Cœur Magique Éclairé" she breathed and gold fell out of her wand, coating the baby. Slowly, a shimmering form of Abigail's vessel system appeared with a golden glow. It showed a tiny heart beating heavily, and Hermione looked at every vessel, searching for anything amiss. Because if dark magic could get into Harry's magical core, if Voldemort got into his magical core, she needed to know. She looked, straining her eyes but the only thing she saw was gold, no black in sight. A perfectly pure magical core.
"Her magical core is intact" she breathed looking at Minerva " She is perfectly healthy"
"Good," Minerva said, distracted with the baby's hand squeezing her finger.
"I" Hermione hesitated " I need to get back to HQ before the meeting so…"
"Yes" Minerva looked at her "Go, I will meet you there, I just have a few things to do beforehand"
So, Hermione left the little room, left the house where happiness felt real again and flood back into the real world.
As Hermione arrived in the Headquarters safe house she already felt exhausted. She had a report to give on her France mission, she had to continue her research project, wanted to perfect the spells she learned in France and document them properly so others could learn from them and she had an overnight shift in the infirmary. She also had to check on her own would from the battle of the mall a month ago which now ached slightly like it did after apparition. The cut was almost completely healed, and the only thing left was tending to her scars which refused to close properly for some fucking reason.
She was glad the living room was deserted when she got there, meaning most of the people were already in the meeting room preparing the room. She flooded here instead of the fireplace directly in the meeting room because she needed some time. She needed 10 minutes to calm down and the quiet of the house. She drew back into her mind and sorted her recent memories into books, which then became little sops on the bookshelves. She needed to switch, to get her head into the game because each and every one of these meetings drained her, and she needed to be on top of her game. She put the kids, the little Abigal in a back corner, and called back the happenings in the last meeting. She needed to be the brightest witch of her age in there, she couldn't just be Hermione.
Steps echo through the space and her eyes shoot open, her wand itching toward the sound. As she turns she sees Ron, trying to sneak into the meeting… unsuccessfully.
"You are late again?" Hermione asked breaking the quiet and letting her wand fall.
"Blimey" Ron jumped looking at Hermione with terrified wide eyes " You scared the living shit out of me"
"Sorry," she twisted her mouth to the side, walking towards the silhouette of him. The hallway was small and only a lonely candle illuminated it casting him in shadows "I just got here"
"Are you okay Hermione?" Ron fully turned at her looking her up and down, letting the candlelight shine on his face. Worried lines furrowed his brows, and ever since he found her bleeding in the bathroom he looked ready to scoop her up if she fainted, which should have made Hermione happy, but just made her feel weak. Once, maybe a lifetime ago, she wanted Ron to look at her, to actually see her, but by now she realized she was just dreaming. Even Harry didn't see her the real way, even to him she was an idea of someone and not a real human being. To them she was the Brightes Wich of the generation, Hermione Granger, and not just..Hermione.
"Im fine" Hermione lied, walking past him directly into the meeting room leaving him standing there with a surprised expression on his face.
The meeting room was actually an old dining room, which was enlarged to accommodate 30 people comfortably. There was a huge table where by now report papers, food and tea were spread out, as people sat in their assigned seats. Officially they were unassigned and everybody could sit everywhere but somehow it naturally got arranged by levels, the biggest the furthest from the door. Hermione noted Kingsley sitting at the head of the table and took her empty seat next to Harry and shot an apology look at Kingsley who shooted daggers at her late appearance. Seconds after her, Ron barreled in, sitting on the other side of Harry and shooting a smile toward Hermione which she pretended not to notice.
"So" Kingsley said "As I was saying. Thank you all for arriving in time " he pointed a glare at them, but didn't say a thing "and for your service toward the Order. We have a few reposts to give, an overall announcement, and then we will continue as usual."
Hermione looked over the table and noticed Minerva's curious stare. She just smiled back at her and spread her papers out, trying to note the reports scouts gave and raids done by death eaters near them.
Hermione tried to listen, she really did but every few seconds her mind drifted back to the little Abigail, the barely one-day-old who was so innocent and who knew nothing of the word and already lost everything. Ron interrupted her mental sorting and now, she couldn't escape her thoughts. Harry noticed and glanced at her periodically, tugging his mouth to the side in a worried expression. He asked the appropriate questions and smiled at jokes, but whenever Hermione's hand stopped writing he cast a glance at her and shuffled uncomfortably. She shook herself, making her pay attention because she needed to know what was happening around her because knowledge was her biggest power. She couldn't afford not paying attention, missing an upcoming raid and not having enough supplies when evidently people came back from the fight injured, or on the brink of death.
"Thank you for sharing Flint" Kingsley interrupted Marcus Flint who was dragging on and on about one of his missions in Germany related to scouting the Death Eaters stationed there "I think we got all the details necessary for a decent report "he cleared his throat his eyes wandering over the attendiees" Please, all Order members with level 7 or lower clearance exit the meeting chamber."
Markus looked down and slowly stood and walked out of the room with 20 or so other wizards. The levels were Hermione's idea a few years ago, she still wasn't sure about it. She knew it was a clear indication of who had what clarity, and who could read what documents but she still felt off about it. Every meeting document had folders enchanted accordingly, and only wizards with particular levels could access the documents. It was tedious, and it meant putting a charm on every order member, and updating it as the clearance updated, but she still felt like it was necessary even if her stomach didn't agree with her mind. She knew it was more than necessary when Voldemort tried to infiltrate them more than once. Each was a poor attempt, trying to gain their trust as surviving muggles, but not playing the part properly, but Hermione's paraio still was high. Also, there were many fights about the clearance levels, and there were always members who fought about their level and qualifications for them.
"Hermione" Klinly muttered her name in a way that made it clear it wasn't the first time had been called on.
"Sorry," she shook her head, focusing her eyes "Yes?"
"Will you update us about your French visit?"
"Oh yes' ' she breathed, reaching into her beaded bag and pulling out the report she wrote last night. It was multiple pages and she would have it over at the end of the meeting but now it was perfect for bullet points. She closed her eyes for a second and cleared her head. She was not the best at occlumency, but she knew enough to just show everything back and leave her mind in a clean state.
"Hermione?" Harry whispered beside her. She snapped her eyes open and cleared her throat.
"Okay, so I would call my French visit a success. As you all know I was sent to Charentes, one of the rural arts of France for multiple reasons. One was to contact an old healer and learn all she had to offer before her demise. The second and most important was to contact the French resistance in person and establish a communication link with them. Morgane L'Éternelle, the healer I visited, reportedly is one of the leading members, and as I gained her trust she opened up to me about the resistance. Over the weeks I met with a few of their representatives, and now we are ready to set up a communication channel with them so we can try and work together in the future."
"Very good," Kingsley said, eyeing Hermione's papers with interest. " Did you run into any problems?"
Hermione almost chuckled at the question, because yes she did run into a 'few' problems.
When she was good enough after her failure at the Mall, she insisted on going to France as soon as possible, and not letting Kingsley send anybody other than her. So, 3 days later Hermione arrived in a freezing garden somewhere in the French countryside and was greeted by an old, and she meant a really old woman who looked like the witches drawn in medieval art and she realized maybe she should have stayed in the infirmary a little longer. The woman - Morgane - was a head shooter that Hermione with grey hair, and a wrinkled face that looked like she smelled something foul and her face stayed that way. She wore dark traditional robes, and Hermione swore she even saw her wear pointed hats on more than one occasion. From the first second, it was really apparent that Mornganae didn't trust nor like her. She only knew French and only a dialect Hermione never even heard before so their communication was more than rough, especially at the start. Hermione's French was okay, she knew how to order coffee and say hi, but in her summer classes she never thought about how to ask trivial things like "Are wolfsbane and unicorn blood the most potent for this potion?" or "Counter-clockwise stirring with the moonlight right?" or her favourite "I am sorry, I didn't know the toad was your friend next time I will be nicer to him".
Still, she survived. She slept in a small dark shack that had cracked windows that barely allowed slivers of sickly green light to escape from indice and cast an unsettling glow on the overgrown thicket surrounding it. Inside, the cramped space was cluttered with shelves bearing an eclectic array of dusty crystals, dried herbs, and mysterious potion ingredients that Hermione had never seen in her life. A cauldron, ancient and pockmarked, dominates the centre, its perpetually bubbling contents emitting an acrid scent that lingered there even if Hermione opened the door and used air-refreshing enchantments.
Every day for a few hours Morganae would disappear and ward Hermione in the shack so much that if she tried to leave she was sure she would turn into a toad. The only reason Hermione didn't leave after the first time was that she knew they needed the French resistance. Most resistances were in correspondence, but the French resistance was so underground even the Order had a hard time contacting them. They needed them, so Hermione stayed and cursed herself for it.
After the first week, Hermione learned the words related to potion ingredients and she was allowed to go foraging with Morganae which was more of a punishment than a priviligde. Yeah, she got to see how to expertly cut dittany and learned hidden grooves she didn't know magical plants grew but at the same time she was the one carrying everything, in the freezing cold, and was forbidden from using magic because "The plants could feel it, and become less potent" or something like that, Hermione still wasn't sure.
After the second week, she was allowed to see patients, but she couldn't see their faces, did not know their names, and any identification was obscured from her. She understood but hated the fact that even if a man was Portkeyed in with his legs almost cut off, she had to obscure his face, and Mornganae had to put a spell on his name so Hermione wouldn't be able to understand it if she ever heard it. It was worse when someone died. She didn't get to even know their name, or their face, not even when she used all of her magical reserves to give them a chance.
After the third week, Hermione finally asked Morganae about the resistance. That got her a task of a potion so complicated she was up for 48 hours just to brew it, and had to forage at 3 am in the freezing lake to get the final ingredient. She even gave up, and the last night before her last week there she just went out to the garden, sat in the snow and looked up at the stars. She was angry at herself. She tried, she really did, and she achieved fucking nothing. Yes she learned a lot, and she was deeply grateful for it, but she needed to do more. Soundlessly Morgane just came out, gave a basket to Hermione and marched into the forest next to them. Hermione knew the deal by now and followed the old hag, and got mentally ready to harvest every and any potion ingredient she had and freeze to death in the process. It was never told to her what they were looking for, they just went and when one of them noticed a plant they harvested some. It was a full moon, and Hermione knew it was even more dangerous to be in the forest this time but she gave up being racional a week ago.
"You" Morganae said and Hermione stopped in her tracks looking at her open mouth " are resistance, right?"
She barely managed a nod over her surprise that the hag spoke English. Morganae spoke fucking English,
"Why?"
Hermione looked at her, bewildered. She knew English. That moment she realized that she understood every curse that split Hermione's lips, she understood every time Hermione sent her to hell and back, and shit..did Hermione ever say something she shouldn't? Did she reveal any secrets because she thought that the old hag did not speak any fucking English?
Mordanae made an impatient sound and leaving Hermione she continued foraging. Hermione shook herself and followed the old woman.
"I don't know" she answered after a few silent minutes, because she felt if she didn't the wich would curse her "I am a muggle-born but it is more than that " she sighed searching for words" I am just.. This cannot be it you know?"
Morgan looked up at her with a sceptical look.
"I mean life can't be just falling asleep terrified, and going to battles and fighting for our lives every fucking day " Morganae chuckled at her language. Yeah, she definitely understood her cursing " I know there is more, and even if I won't see it, I want the others to see it, to feel it. I need to make it different because there has to be more."
She stopped and looked at Hermione with stern eyes.
"Good" She smiled, which looked like a creepy toothy grin that gave Hermione the heeby jeebies. Hermione barely had a second before the hag jumped her and appeared at them. Hermione stumbled barely noticing two figures standing in another dark shack she never saw. That was the moment they started to hate shacks, just as vomit was about to climb up her throat because of the unprepared apparition.
As it turned out, right after Hermione so graciously emptied her guts in the corner they were the representatives, who actually knew proper English and didn't lie about it. It also turned out one of them was Fleur's sister, and Hermione felt victory for the first time in a long time.
Now, she looked over at the other end of the table to a heavily pregnant Fleur who clutched the letter Hermione owled to her from the orphanage hours ago. She was pulled back from duty months ago, and Bill barely let her out of his sigh these days. Even now he was close to her, a protective hand over hers. Fleur cast a smile at her, and Hermione was glad she could reconnect the sisters. She knew Fleur wanted to go, to contact the French resistance but in her state, she was too much of a liability. "No real problems. A few language barriers, but nothing too big." Hermione answered finally, deciding that Kingsley would read her detailed report anyway.
"Good," Kingsley nodded, levitating the papers from Hermione's hand "Potter, what about your mission?"
"Well,'' Harry rumpled his hair "It was kind of a waste. We still have not found any proof about Luna's whereabouts, and tracking her wand wasn't as successful as we thought. We got back to the mall, but from there she was apparated somewhere and her wand has not been used since"
"We will see what our scouts learn later this month" Moody croaked his glass eye fixed on Hermione.
"Bill, did you receive a word from your Romanian contacts?" Kingsley asked, trying to look bored while glancing at Hermione's report repeatedly.
"No, not yet. They are being hit heavily right now, I am not sure how many of them will survive to even answer me"
"Okay, okay. It could be worse" Kingsley sighed " Fleur I need you to start opening a communication channel with the French resistance with the information Hermione gathered, Harry continues the search for Luna, but please note it has been over a month and we cannot spare too many resources on her. Your new mission papers are here "Kingsley waved his wand and the paper appeared in front of everybody" And please actually follow them this time"
"That's all?" Ron stood, picking up his things.
"No" Kingsley sighed apprehension lining his features "Please all order members level 9 or below to exit the meeting room"
Hermione's head snapped up, looking around the table. There was barely any information that only the really highly ranked order members knew and they usually weren't discussed in the meeting room. She chewed her lips daring her eyes around. Bill and Fleur stood, with Harry and Ron who were looking at her expectantly. She sighed, dreading what was to come. She didn't want this, she didn't want them to figure it out this way. She meant to tell them, but the mall happened, and then she was in France and there just wasn't a right time, and now she -
"Hermione?" Harry asked looking confused.
"I'm level 10" Hermione breathed watching as Ron's face transformed. One minute he was the boy she once had a crush on, the boy she gave her virginity to the boy she wanted to have a life with. The next he was the boy who called her "Swotty", who in the first year told everybody she was weird and it was not a miracle she had no friends. She always knew Rod had a short temper but the war made it so much worse and she hated being the target of his tantrums.
"What the fuck Hermione?" He spat and Hermione flinched, scooting back in her chair.
"Ron" Kingsley warned "Exit the meeting room please"
"Why is she a level 10?! When I asked about it a week ago you told me I was too young, but bloody Hermione isn't?"
"Ron" Harry looked at his friend uncomfortable. Even Harry wasn't a level 10, and neither should have Hermione.
"It was necessary to rais her level, and she had the occumulecy skills for the clearance."
"Bloody Occumulecy again" Ron spat " She is not better than us!"
"Weasley" Minerva scolded
"I am sorry professor but it is not fair"
"It isn't about fairness boy " Moody stood " Now exit before I turn you into a ferret or something.
So Rom did, not even looking back at Hermione who tried to keep her tears back he stormed out of the meeting room Harry hurrying behind him. It was weird how in the middle of the battlefield she could fight, or when in the infirmary when she saw things so cruel other people puked their guts out but she could handle it. But when her friend got angry at her she was ready to cry, and curl into a ball She looked around at the worried faces around her. It was Kingsley, Minerva, Moody, and Lupin all many years her seniors and she tried to hide her emotions. The only reason she got to level ten was because they needed a replacement for Madam Pomfrey after her death a few months ago, and as it turned out Hermione was the most trained healer in the Order. She became the leader of the infirmary and represented it at meetings and it was essential for her to know all information. She also was the buffer between them and Harry, whom they did not want to burden with classified information.
"So" Kingsley started, a nervous shake in his voice "I have bad news"
Hermione braced herself. There are a few announcements like this at every meeting. Someone died, someone was taken, we lost a battle, and a supporter from America pulled out. These days these happen more and more, and if it was a level 10 classification it had to be bad.
"What is it? " Minerva asked, looking into Kingsley's eyes.
"In six months the order is going to run out of funds"
"What?" Hermione gasped, her head shooting.
"How?" Moody asked, his glass eye moving frantically.
"All our overseas supporters pulled out, the other resistances are too busy with their own fights, and our vaults are emptying faster than we anticipated, and with feeding the new surge of refugees we.. we will not make it"
"So" Hermione's hands shook so horribly she had to hide them behind her as she listened to Lupin " If we don't kill You-Know-Who in six months we are dead, the Order is over?"
"Precisely"
"Shit" was all Minerva said before Hermione lost it. She just stood and not looking at the otters exited the meeting room. She heard her name, and a few shouts but she didn't even glance back.
She needed to think. She needed to think. She just needed to fucking think.
"Hermione what-" she stumbled right into Fred who looked confusedly at her frantic state as she hurried past him.
She could figure this out. They couldn't be dead in six months. That wasn't realistic. They needed to lower the food supplies and condense safe houses. Yes, less houses and more people in them.
She passed Ginny who just looked up at her, and noticing with her expression turned away. Hermione understood, she wouldn't wanna deal with herself either.
As soon as she arrived at the infirmary she went into her back office and started pacing in the familiar surroundings.
They can't die in six months.
She can't die in six months.
She can't die.
She didn't wanna die.
She just wanted to rest.
She didn't wanna die.
She didn't want her friends to die.
She needed to figure this out.
She needed to find a way to kill Voldermort in six months or find some money from somewhere if they were fucking dead.
Dead.
She didn't even realize she started hyperventilating until a hand touched her shoulder. She whipped around her wand ready for attack, and when she saw Harry's familiar eyes, with the same expression he used on her when she arrived from the battle after the mall, her papers she left behind clothes in his hand, something broke in her. She didn't cry, nor did she sob, but she backed up until her back hit the cold wall, and left her wand trained on him.
"Hey, hey, I am not the enemy," Harry said half-heartedly, lifting his hand up " What happened in there?" He asked putting her papers onto her desk and her healer's bag next to her bag.
He would be dead too.
Harry would die.
She needed to figure this out.
"I can't tell you, '' she choked out "You know that '' Hermione lowered her wand, feeling ashamed for even using it. These days even if a floorboard creaked her wand was raised, and if she woke from a nightmare she shot a curse at every shadow. It got so bad she had to ward her room almost undestroyable so she would shoot the wall out and damage someone.
"But I can still ask" he shrugged, and as he noticed her wand wasn't trained on him he looked deeply into her eyes "You don't look okay"
"I just" Hermione shook herself pushing her thought far away " I just need to think. Figure a few things out"
"Can I help?" He asked, playing with the inkpot and almost spilling it on her charts.
"I am not sure yet" she sank down "I am not even sure what should I do"
"Okay" Harry stood and sat in front of her "I know you can't tell me anything. But I am here. I still remember us researching together in Hogwarts"
Hermione looked at him again and her heart shattered. She once thought he died and it was one the worst days of her life. She could still imagine his limp body. His glassy eyes. The same view she would get in six fucking months if she didn't figure this out.
"Why do you think Voldemort is still alive?" Hermione asked after several minutes of silence. It was a question they discussed multiple times, and came up with multiple answers. Some nights she would have a nightmare, or Harry would get to her for the Sleepless Dream potion and one of them would just pop the question. Why is he alive when others died? Why is he alive if the Horcrux inside Harry died? Why is he alive of good people, children had to die?
"I asked Ron this last night too" he chuckled " and surprisingly, he said surviving and living are not the same thing"
"He? Really?" Hermione skill couldn't shake the image of Ron, furious at her in the meeting rooms.
"I was surprised," he laughed earning a shy smile from Hermione "But I think he is onto something. Voldemort isn't alive, he is barely surviving and that means we are close"
"But he should have died already " Hermione sighed feeling even more lost.
"I never cast the killing curse on him "Harry shrugged.
"But his own curse hit him, a killing curse, and he didn't die!"
"Hermione we will get him" Harry came closer and held Hermione's hand "We have time, and he will get punished for all he has done."
"We need to kill him" Hermione breathed and Harry pulled his hand back, and Hermione instantly knew she fucked up. She is usually good, she pays attention, and she avoids this topic, like she avoids killing when is fights beside Harry.
"We are not killing anybody, Hermione. We are the good ones."
"Harry, we are in a war. We need to even the playing field, and You-Know-Who needs to die"
"We can't become them and you know it. We have to be better than them"
"We are not them, but you have to see tha-'
"We are not killers!" Harry seethed and Hermione tried to jump back, but the wall prevented her from it.
"Then we are as good as dead!" Hermione screamed.
"I would rather be dead than be like them" Harry looked at her, and then without another word left Hermione.
She slowly slid down to the floor, the cold tiles biting into her skin. Hermione's tears came back and she hated herself for it. These days she just cried and she didn't even know why. She would have been researching, healing, and doing something so Harry wouldn't have to die. She needed to get up, to just fucking suck it up and work.
Instead, she just sat there… thinking about death.
How anyway everybody would be dead in six months so it doesn't really matter what she does.
How she could do nothing about it, and it would happen anyway.
How lost she utterly was.
How nobody would miss her if she died right now.
How she wanted to die right now.
How if she just tugged her sleeve up, and got the scalpel out of her bag she could do it.
How the blood would flow onto the dirty tiles coating them indefinitely.
And how nobody would even notice it until it was too late.
So, she didn't notice the note on her desk warning her about what was to come.