"I miss you."
Cedric breathed deeply and opened his eyes only to find his arms empty once again. He sighed softly and looked back at Hermione's picture.
"I miss you, too," he said and got up to turn off his alarm.
It would've been so easy to just curl back up and sleep. Escape to his dreams where he could talk to Hermione. He wanted to hide away in his room and never come out, but she wouldn't want that. She whispered encouragement to him each night. Asked him to eat, to keep going.
So he would.
Cedric showered and dressed and checked that Barnaby was up to tend to the cows before going down to the kitchen to get breakfast going. Hermione was way better at organizing breakfast but he did his best.
He got the younger kids up and dressed and made sure they ate.
Rosehill was fairly crowded, but Maite, Ana, and Elisa had redone the damaged house in D.R. with help from the trolls, so they had some elbow room.
So far, Voldemort was keeping the ceasefire. At least, he wasn't blatantly disregarding it.
Cedric had started every single fighter on training, noting who all they would have and sending Talbott and George on recon missions to find out how many Voldemort had and if he was already organizing them at Hogwarts.
So far only a handful were there, so Cedric started working with Aberforth Dumbledore on creating a door from Rosehill to the Hog's Head. It would only stand long enough for them to get to Hogwarts quietly without raising attention.
Kingsley felt it was best if they 'defend the castle' for their fight. Better views from the towers, the elves knew of old defenses that they could activate. Based on its standing they had the Black Lake behind them, which would keep the fighting more or less to one side, and the way out from the Room of Things to the Hog's Head and then to Rosehill would allow them an escape route if things went badly.
It wasn't perfect, but it was what they had.
After the threats and attacks, they had thirty troll warriors, four cihuacocohua including Márcia, two hundred and fifty wixen, and a hundred goblin fighters. They'd been chipping away steadily at Voldemort's forces over the past two years, but he still had giants, mountain trolls, and dementors on his team along with who knew what else.
Harry was in charge of getting newer volunteers into shape. He was a kinder, better, and more patient teacher than Cedric had the headspace to be in for the moment. He conserved his kindness and patience only for the children.
"Cedric, we need to talk to you."
His chest grew tight as he faced two of his in-laws.
"I'm going to help fight," said Hana. "Roger and Beatrice volunteered to keep an eye on the children here. Particularly Amalea."
"And I'm fighting too," said Manuia.
"Manny—"
Manuia raised an eyebrow and Cedric saw his experience. The wizard that had killed Esperanza's mother and nearly succeeded killing her too for horcruxes. And once, long ago, when he was still a teenager, a wizard that had murdered his best friend for the fun of it.
Cedric took a slight step back, stunned at what he saw.
"I won't pretend to be proud of my past," said Manny calmly as Hana squeezed his hand. "But dark wizards have taken too much family from me already. I've been training. I'm fighting."
"Okay," said Cedric. "We'll… we'll load you up with some of Fred and George's pranks. They've got wands pre-loaded with spells and… and anything else you might need. I'll put you two in charge of field medicine. Getting people help if they need it."
"We can do that," said Hana, patting his shoulder. "How are you holding up?"
He shook his head.
"I can't."
"Me neither," Manny agreed.
Cedric moved on to check on everyone, make sure they were preparing for battle. Just a few more days and it would be over. One way or another.
He stepped into the playroom.
"Hey, Viktor, get roped into dress up again?"
"Need I remind you were roped in too?" said Viktor. "Ha ha! Crown space!"
He pulled the tiny plastic crown out of the Pretty Pretty Princess box and placed it on his head. Abigail spun her turn and exclaimed, flapping her hands. She stretched a hand out for the crown.
"My reign was short," he sighed, placing it on her head.
They hadn't been able to save his eyes, but they did have the resources to give him prosthetics a bit more refined than what Mad-Eye Moody had. He was still getting used to his new way of seeing, but was determined to fight in the final battle even if it was painful to force an adjustment like this.
"Got time to play, Dad?" Micah asked.
"Not just yet, Micah, but I will after lunch," said Cedric. "Speaking of which, finish up your games and wash your hands, it'll be ready in ten minutes."
"Esperanza and I will get them sorted," said Viktor.
Esperanza beamed at him, imagining how he'd be with their own children someday.
"Thanks," he said. "And kids, do as Tío Viktor and Tía Esperanza say."
He got a half-hearted response and figured that was good enough.
"We'll play some games after lunch," he promised and quickly checked in with Lee who was checking in with all their safe houses for available fighters.
It wouldn't be long.
~o0o~
"So… that's why we're cursed?" said Hermione. "You weren't the one that cursed us?"
Atabei rolled her eyes. "I go through this with each arrival. No! It was not me that cursed our family. I guess when you play a twenty-five generation game of telephone, things get lost. I didn't curse us, but I did do my best to fight invaders. That is why we have that land, even through colonization. I hid us there. I died when my eldest daughter was still a child. My husband is actually a very nice man, he was open to learning our culture. He led a mutiny for us and was killed for it."
Said husband, who was all skeleton now, waggled his fingers.
"Wow…"
"Mimi!" Pongo trotted over and nosed her elbow.
"Hello, Pongo!" Hermione scratched his back.
"Come with me to the banquet hall," he said.
"Oh! Sure."
Hermione got up. She was wearing a long dress and the vest again, still wearing her pouch and her holster. The horcrux was waking up. She could tell. The magic had begun to grow restless and it was secreting mucus.
Atabei offered her arm and they headed to the banquet hall together. The aunties who liked to brunch were already there as they usually were. Aunties from D.R., Mexico, and New York were gathered with Weasley, Podhar, and Willoughby aunties.
Sitting in the guest of honor spot was Dama Muerte. Hermione blinked in surprise and hurried over.
"My Lady," she said. "So… can I go?"
"Sit," said Dama Muerte. "Have something to eat."
Hermione sat down, Pongo laying down on her feet. She set down a plate of food for him and grabbed some pan de muerto.
"So, I've been discussing it with the others," said Dama Muerte, taking a bite of brisket. "And we have agreed that sending you back would be the best thing in the long run. Tom Riddle has completely laughed in the face of the balance of the universe. Stealing countless lives to make his horcruxes, prolonging his own. And who knows how many more will perish? Everyone reaches me eventually, but I would prefer they have the chance to come to me by means other than genocide."
Hermione nodded.
"However, we have agreed that you will need to undergo some trials first," said Dama Muerte. "You really want to stop his reign of terror you must prove you are worthy."
"Why shouldn't my daughter be worthy?" said Nachelle indignantly.
"I'm sure she is, but this is to prove to the others," said Dama Muerte. "Now, I do have conditions."
Hermione nodded. "Name them."
"First, I can only send you back during the time the veil is thinnest," she said.
"When is that?"
"October 31st through November 2nd, the winter solstice but only to whichever hemisphere it's being honored, and May 13th."
"I see. Well, I just need long enough to end this war," said Hermione.
"If someone decides to share their life, you could live past the window I allow," said Dama Muerte.
"I would never ask someone to give their life up for me," she said.
"Second, you must return the wand and the stone," said Dama Muerte, raising a hand when Hermione reached for her bag. "No, not just yet. I have a feeling you have a little bit more use for them. You can return them after November 2nd."
"Oh!" Hermione refastened her pouch. "Okay."
"Third, you may not tell anyone what you have seen here. You may tell stories your family has told you to pass along. Messages to give. But don't explain to them the afterlife."
"Cedric will probably see it," said Hermione. "I tell him everything and he is a skilled legilimens."
"Well, fine, as long as it isn't on purpose," she amended.
"Anything else?"
"That's it. Now you do need your mother's blessing before you can continue."
Hermione turned to her mother.
"My precious girl," said Nachelle. "You are so strong and brave. I worry about sending you back to heartache and pain. I want you to live, not suffer."
"I won't, Mamá," said Hermione. "And I don't plan to make anyone trade their life for mine. I'll be home soon."
"And now gifts," said Dama Muerte. "Since you are respecting me and my realm."
She reached into her robes and withdrew a piece of chalk.
"This will open a gateway to the land of the dead," she said. "You may place any conditions upon it you wish, but it will close automatically by sunrise on the third of November. Do not let the living enter or they may be doomed to wander the Forest of the Forgotten for all eternity. Those who remained behind will have the chance to come home."
"Good to know," said Hermione, taking the chalk and placing it in her pouch.
"I know what you plan to do," said Dama Muerte. "Should you pass your trials, I will place you where your magic had been the strongest."
"Hogwarts?"
"Yes. You will need a coven. They may not have true magic anymore but their being there will be enough," said Dama Muerte. "Just turn the stone thrice in your hand and you can summon anyone here to help you."
"Yes, that might be better than trying to explain why I'm temporarily alive," said Hermione, looking at those around her. "It would take too long to gather the coven. Who will fight with me?"
"I will," said Aunt Amalea.
"And us," said James, putting an arm around Lily.
"And I will," said Mr. Weasley.
Belphoebe raised her hand.
She also got Valko and her mother and Regulus.
"And I will go too!" said Pongo. "I count, right?"
"Nine is a good number," said Hermione, counting herself.
She explained what her plan was and then had to convince them that she knew the risks but felt it was the best way to level the playing field.
"There are a lot of fighters in the Weather," she said. "But if they're too busy focusing on giants and dementors and whoever else Tom has on his side… I don't play fair. I will do whatever it takes to prevent as many deaths as I can."
Nachelle sighed and stroked her cheek.
"Okay, Nia," she said. "I give you my blessing."
She kissed her forehead.
"Time to go," said Dama Muerte, rising up. "Thank you for hosting me."
Everyone raised their glasses.
"Salud."
Hermione stood and followed Dama Muerte. They walked to the edge of the city over the vast emptiness. Dama Muerte waved a bony hand and a scintillating bridge of stars formed. They walked over it, passing more islands like her own family's. Some were massive while others were tiny with only one or two houses. An old man and a young boy waved from one such star.
Finally, they approached the Forest of the Forgotten. The trees were thinner here and there was a massive cliffside packed with waterfalls that looked more like watered silk catching in the breeze. Dozens of reapers in cloaks stood along the top of the cliff, knocking back climbing spirits, both whole and fractured, away from the falls. Some made it through.
"The veil is thin," said Dama Muerte. "So many try to return to a world that has left them behind. I let some stay. Many just want to be at the theater or a favorite book shop. As long as they don't cause trouble, they can stay."
"What about those who reject death?" Hermione asked. "Like Friar Simon or Sir Nicholas?"
"Well, they tend to be tied to places where magic is strongest," she explained. "All those Hogwarts ghosts didn't die there, but they are tied to haunt the area with some ability to roam. Some cannot leave at all."
"I see."
Dama Muerte led her to an aside area. There was an archway made of cypress trees and guarded by two black quartz creatures. One was a three-headed dog and the other had the head of a crocodile, the front quarters of a lion, and the backside of a hippopotamus.
"Your trials begin here," said Dama Muerte. "Oh, hold on."
She pulled her close.
He-Who-Must-Be-Forgotten snarled and shambled out of the trees.
"Mine… mine!" He ran for the archway.
Flames shot up and he shrieked horrifically, backing up. Ammut snapped him up.
"Oh, my," said Hermione.
"He'll wind up back in the forest eventually," said Dama Muerte. "Now remember, you may turn back at any point. You will return home with your family and I will send the horcrux to Tom and it can be the living's problem. No judgement. However, if you do fail any trial, you may be doomed to wander the Forest of the Forgotten."
No pressure.
"Mm, I should've put on my armor," said Hermione.
"It won't do you any good."
"Neither does a security blanket but yet children cling to them. Oh, well. I have what I need."
"Good luck, Nia."
"Thank you."
She approached the archway.
"May I pass?" she asked.
The guardians were silent, their opal eyes glittering. Hermione looked back at Dama Muerte only to find her gone. Guess she was completely on her own.
"Okay, then." Hermione stepped through the archway.
She screamed as the flames burst to life. She covered her eyes but was surprised to only feel warmth. She tried not to breathe too deeply and kept moving forward through the flames. They were hot, like walking in the sun in August. Uncomfortable, but not agonizingly so.
She came out on the other side dreadfully thirsty, but unharmed.
"Herminia, you have proven your intentions are good," said a disembodied voice. "Go forward to your next trial."
"Whew! Okay," she said and looked back. All she could see was darkness. "One down."
She touched her turtle pendant and took a deep breath. It was going to be okay. She could do this. So Harry could live his life, so her friends and family didn't have to be afraid to go out. By the time the I.C.W. would act, how many lives would be lost? How many more followers would he have accrued? If she could prevent a world war, she would.
Heart pounding, Hermione took a deep breath and moved forward. She came upon a staircase made of stones that glowed with their own light. It seemed to spiral up forever into darkness beyond what she could see. A plaque sat in the stone, the words shifting and blurring until she was focusing right on it.
No one goes through life untarnished. We have all hurt someone or been hurt by others. Can you accept that?
"I can," she said and lifted her skirt to place a foot firmly on the first step.
"Why do you have to be such a know-it-all?" a voice like Ron's demanded.
Ah. So it was one of these. No doubt, she would have to hear every horrible thing people have said about her.
"You never loved Crookshanks like you did Pongo," said the second step. "You've always left him behind or forgotten about him."
It was a different love. A first pet was special. Hermione breathed deeply and took another step.
"You're such a hypocrite! You ridiculed others knowing just how much pain it caused."
"God, there are times where I just want to shake her," said Cedric on the fourth.
"You'd think the world would end if we forget to wash a single dish," Fred scoffed.
On and on it went as Hermione climbed. Each step declaring something negative someone thought or said about her in life or pointing out ways she had failed to do good. Was there no end in sight? The higher she climbed, the more her legs began to feel like lead and the more she wished she could just lay down and sleep forever.
"I know!" she said and sat down to catch her breath.
"You stole Marietta's life from her as a means to an end!" the step spat.
"Yeah, I know!"
Was there really a point to going back? Was she really even a good person? Or was she only doing these things as some sort of… atonement? The fire only stated that her intentions to return were good, but not that she was a good person as a whole. She had made mistakes. Horrible mistakes. Things she didn't document because she knew they would incriminate her. That was selfish. Sneaky. Low. And things like that always came out, one way or another. Someone would poke holes in her story until the real truth came out.
Hermione pressed her forehead into the step.
"Think of all those people in need you turned a blind eye to because you assumed the worst in them!"
She lifted her head and glared at it.
"Well, I wouldn't do that now," she said. "Yes, I did all these things, but I would try not to do them again. I learned, I grew, I changed. It doesn't matter if I'm a good person or not, it only matters if I'm trying to be a better person than I was yesterday! I'll never control what people see, only my own actions."
She stood and kept walking. Listening to each criticism and promising to do better or letting go of the words said in frustration and anger. She finally reached the top. Another tunnel. Above was writing.
Keep walking, do not look back, for doubt is the rope with which men hang themselves.
She was exhausted and more thirsty than she had ever been in her life, but she would push on. She had to. God, she was hungry. She felt as if she had been eating air all this time. It was so cold. Would her magic work here? Probably not. She wiggled her fingers to try and make sparks and frowned.
Damn.
"Onward," she sighed and kept walking.
"Hermione…" a voice whispered, making her step skip.
She kept walking.
"Hermione, wait!"
She slowed. "Cedric?"
She sensed someone approach behind her.
"I'm sorry," said Cedric. He sounded exhausted. "I'm so sorry, I couldn't keep my promise."
"Oh, Cedric…" She sighed and closed her eyes. "It's okay. Just walk behind me. Once it's all over, we'll return home."
"Let's go home now," he begged. "Please. We don't know if you'll survive this."
"Do you have so little faith in me?"
"No, of course not." He touched her shoulder and she knew it was really him.
It was tempting to look back at the man she loved, but she resisted. She set her jaw and shook her head, putting one foot in front of the other.
"I love you, Cedric. I want nothing more than to spend eternity with you."
"Then let's go. Let's start right now."
She wanted to go back where she was safe. Where she was warm and comfortable. Cedric squeezed her shoulders, then slipped his arms around her, and pressed his forehead to the back of her head.
"Please… I can't lose you. Not again."
"I just need you to trust me," she said. "We'll be together again soon, just… not now."
"Please look at me."
"I won't look back. I can't. Not even for you. I love you so much, but I can't."
He sighed and backed away.
"Cedric?"
The urge to look back was unbearable. She set her jaw and her lip trembled. He had to understand. She hoped he would understand eventually. Please understand.
Hermione kept walking forward and she felt the chill set in. This was the right decision. It had to be. And if not… well, at least she tried.
She tried to help. She tried to make things better.
She tried.
The tunnel narrowed and inclined until she was crawling. Finally, a faint light shone through. She urged herself along and burst out of a hole in the ground. She coughed and inhaled deeply, making sure she was out and away from the entrance before chancing a look back.
No one emerged after her.
"Okay," she murmured. "It's okay, love. You fought as hard as I did and you deserve to rest."
She looked around. She seemed to be in a forest, but it was more open than the Forest of the Forgotten. There was dim light filtering through the trees and the sky seemed grey with dawn. Where was she?
Was it over? Did she pass? There were three trials. Guess… the only thing to do now was find a town and find out where she was.
She picked a direction and started running. She would need every minute she possibly could. She glanced and spotted an old man sitting on a stump.
Skidding to a stop, she backpedaled and faced him. He was very old with black skin and a large white beard. His clothes were worn and patched, he was barefoot and his very thin legs and crooked feet were crossed at the ankles. He wore a straw hat and a skinny, wiry dog sat by his feet.
"Good morning, young lady," he said with a friendly air.
"Hello," she said. "Could you point me the way to town?"
"Just that way," he said, gesturing with his pipe.
"Thank you." She started running, then quickly turned back. "Are you alright? Do you need any help?"
"I do," he said. "My son usually takes me to the water pump, but he's been busy with his new baby. Can't say I blame him, a new baby needs much more attention and his poor wife is still recovering from the birth. I thought I could go myself but I suppose I was wrong. Could you carry me there?"
"Well I could go fill the bucket and bring it back here," she said.
"The way is difficult if you don't know it," he warned.
"Mm, I suppose. I don't want to get lost," she murmured. "I'm on a schedule. Alright. Up we go."
She crouched down in front of him and he hopped onto her back. He was heavier than expected. She widened her stance and waved away the pipe smoke.
"Point the way," she said.
It did seem a bit twisty-turny, though Hermione spent more time looking at her feet so she wouldn't trip than where they were going.
"Here we are," said the old man.
She looked up to see a well.
"Oh, good!" she sighed and set him down on a bench. "I would think this would be closer to town."
"Wells over there are muddy."
"Ah. My husband came up with a process to filter muddy pump water when he was seventeen," she said. "He's so smart."
"Where's the young man now?"
"He's… far away," she said and hauled the water up by a rope. "Ooh! And here I thought I was in shape!"
She checked the water, finding it clear, though at first glance in the bucket it looked solid black, then poured it into the bucket the old man had.
"Bring me a drink, child," he said.
"Oh, sure." She grabbed a ladle and brought him a drink.
He gulped it down and her own desert mouth yearned for a taste. He handed the ladle back but before she could scoop up a drink for herself, he slapped his thigh.
"Well, better head on back," he said. "You're in a hurry, aren't you, child?"
"I… yes." She reluctantly placed the ladle back, then picked up the old man before picking up the bucket.
The way back was long and tedious. Hermione's forehead prickled with sweat despite the chill. Her legs felt like jelly. She was so tired.
They passed the stump where she picked the man up.
"Just a little farther," he said.
"Sure."
There was a thought of just dumping the man right there and finding her own way, but she wouldn't be so cruel. She offered help, she would see it through.
"My house," he said.
She spotted it. More of a shack really, made of wood with an aluminum roof on a hill. The little dog danced around her feet. She could hear the sea beyond the trees. Each step was agony.
"Alright," she puffed, setting him down. "Here you go."
"Thank you."
Hermione paused and dropped her head, bracing her hands on her knees.
"Ah… it was a test. Of course."
"I had to be sure," said Dama Muerte. "Come inside."
Hermione stepped into the house. There was a corner she could wash up in and a fire burned in the middle of the room, giving her warmth and roasting something.
"Go on and wash up. I brought a dress for you to change into. It will help you in the ritual."
"How?"
Dama Muerte held a finger to her mouth.
Hermione washed up and changed into the new dress and the shoes. She hesitated and put the vest back on before strapping down her holster and pouch.
"Is this okay?" she asked.
"Eat this."
Hermione took the plate of sliced breadfruit and scarfed it down. The pain in her stomach ebbed and she felt some of her strength return.
"You passed," said Dama Muerte. "Congratulations."
She exhaled in relief and finished her meal. Dama Muerte faced her and touched her cheek.
"You are strong," she said. "Very strong. Should you live, you will have attracted the attention of the entire magic world. This may put a target on your back and every dark wizard will want to know how you defeated me."
"I think I'd have that target no matter what," said Hermione. "I have this annoying habit of getting in other peoples' business."
Dama Muerte chuckled.
"Got everything?" she asked.
Hermione opened her pouch counting off everything, then tapped her khopesh and her collapsed scythe and Slytherin's locket in her hair.
"Got it," she said.
"Good. I'll send you back as close as I can." Dama Muerte stooped and kissed her.
Hermione exhaled softly and fell away into darkness.