It was impossible to stay as worried the next morning. First, they had no Daily Prophet to read. Second, Ginny demonstrated all that she'd learned from her mother while she whipped up a first-rate breakfast. Eggs, bacon, hash browns, tomatoes, and toast. Though Hermione wondered somewhere around her third bite for whom the breakfast was truly intended.
She chewed thoughtfully, watching Harry and Ginny cast missed glances at each other. Harry mumbled how good it tasted and how grateful he was about every other forkful. Ginny fought a smile - and lost. In a gesture that was rapidly becoming second nature, Hermione rolled her eyes. Third, the day was gorgeous. Pleasantly cool for summer, but sunny. The air hummed with the sounds of life - insects and birds - and the moors stretched all around them, showing off.
When their supplies and table and tent had been magically shrunk down and packed away the three stood in a huddle, a map among them. They'd strategized on the train - they would start where the wizards, the most recent victims, had been found. Ginny would cast a series of Revelio charms while Hermione tried Appare Vestigium to trace magical activity. Harry would . . . be ready in case some evil wizard jumped out at them. Of course, she'd never say it, but he was ancillary until they figured out what was causing the trouble.
It didn't take long. By late morning, they knew what had brought them there. Well, not what, precisely - but they were hunting a creature for sure. They'd easily found the spot where the most recent attack happened, as it was the only place with Quidditch poles, warded to hide them from Muggles, for kilometers around. The whole area lit up like a Christmas tree the moment Hermione cast her spell.
Ginny and Harry helped, casting their own magical detection charms, and they shouted at each other to compare findings. Not a person, not a cursed item. Definitely a monster - something large. Something ancient. It had left a magical trail that was still strong, even several days later, and that none of them recognized. As best they could tell it had circled the pitch, several times, before attacking in the center.
"Probably when they landed to take a break," muttered Harry, walking slowly through where they could see the creature's trace.
"And then where?" asked Gin. She handed around a canteen of cool water, and they all drank deeply. It had warmed significantly since the morning, and few clouds offered breaks of shade.
"I think that way," pointed Hermione toward the end of the pitch. "The magic is slightly more powerful in that direction."
Harry shook his head, disbelieving. "The attack was over a week ago. Its trail wouldn't be noticeably stronger in any particular spot all this time later." Ginny agreed with him, but they all stared at the tracing charms, which indicated what they indicated. What could explain it?
"Unless it fed," Hermione speculated suddenly.
"But the victims weren't torn up," said Ginny. "No sign of physical injury - that's what the reports said for all five."
"That's not the only way something can feed." Harry's voice was soft. Dementors, she knew he was thinking. But these traces weren't dementors, of that they were all certain. It was a different magical creature.
Hermione hoisted her pack over her shoulder. She was wearing khaki shorts and a loose white blouse, and had laughed when Ginny suggested that morning that she looked like she was about to lead a safari. "We might as well follow where the magic is strongest. If it's a dead end, we'll come back, and try another way."
The others agreed, and off they went.
And went.
And went.
They hiked for several hours, pausing only to drink more water and snack on the trail mix Ginny handed 'round. The creature remained before them, the path stretching interminably into the distance.
Thankfully the moors were gorgeous, and only grew moreso as they trekked deeper and deeper into the Lands of the Unknown Owner - as she had come to think of her or him. They saw only the occasional Muggle, and since they looked like Muggle hikers themselves, were ignored without needing to alter any memories. Hermione regularly checked their location and the time. She had a private laugh at her watch, where Ron's hand spent the day hovering over Pub.
The magical trace spells which they took turns casting every few hundred yards indicated that the creature had no rhyme or rhythm in how it traveled. It had zigged and zagged across the hills, sometimes circling a spot before it continued on, sometimes moving in a line so straight it could have been a crow flying. Harry made more than one joke about whether it had been drunk. Hermione started to believe it.
But the magic revealed by their tracking was growing, ever-so-slightly, stronger. Which meant they were in the right direction as far as Hermione was concerned. It was just slow going, as they often had to stop and backtrack to try to find the trail.
When they were all exhausted they pitched the tent again.
Hermione dumped her knapsack inside and set to her obsessive ward-setting. "Again?" groaned Ginny. "It's only a night."
"A night in an unfamiliar place," she muttered.
"We haven't hardly seen anyone," said Harry. He was helping Ginny with dinner over the fire he'd built. She had insisted on a full spread after a day of nothing but trail mix - and feast it would be: roast chicken and vegetables and potatoes. She even managed what she called "can cake" for dessert - a delicious fudgy chocolate concoction baked in empty tins in the coals.
Hermione paused setting a detection ward - it would alert anyone within the perimeter to an unfamiliar person. She made a mental note to set a separate but similar ward for magical creatures. "Will you two leave me be? I can't sleep without some form of protection. And -" she looked out over the black moor that surrounded. Shuddered. "It feels like we're in a fishbowl out here." Like someone was watching.
Silent and probably rolling their eyes, Harry and Ginny returned to dinner preparations. When she was finished, Hermione joined them round the dwindling flames and thoughtfully ate every bite of her food. She couldn't help but notice that Harry and Ginny had been quiet during the meal, and had assisted each other beforehand with less bickering than usual. At first she tried to convince herself they were just tired. Then she saw Harry brush his fingers against Ginny's when he took her plate to Scourgify and put away. Oh.
She was the one who was tired - too exhausted to realize the obvious. She stood, stretching, and excused herself to go to bed. Mercifully she fell asleep quickly, with minimal speculation as to what her friends were quietly discussing over the dying embers.
Their good luck did not continue the next day. Hermione was the first to wake, which was fine. But Harry and Ginny still weren't up, even after she had a sponge bath, dressed in the same outfit as the day before, made coffee, drank the coffee, and jotted notes of their progress and findings. She finally had to rouse them, which she regretted immediately, owing to their foul tempers. They were both sluggish, and the quiet pleasant humor of the prior evening had evaporated. Ginny made beans on toast for breakfast, handing out plates indignantly - "Not unexpected enough for you, Harry?" - and made a point of walking ahead when the three set off.
"I normally wouldn't pry, but - what happened last night?" Hermione whispered to Harry while they cast their tracing spells and set off behind her. It was humid, so much so that Hermione pulled her hair back into a large and messy ponytail to hold it off her neck, and rummaged in her knapsack for a Muggle hat to keep the sun off her face.
Harry was hesitant, considering his words carefully. "She's - upset with me."
"Yes, I sensed that." Hermione shoved his arm. "Though I had to use all my powers of deduction to suss it out."
"Har har." Harry squinted, watching Ginny's slim figure climb a ridge ahead. "We had a good day yesterday. We were exhausted. It was comfortable - easy - to slip into old habits. Bad habits."
"Bad habits such as being kind to one another?" Hermione cast the tracing spell again while they walked and realized - bullocks - Ginny was going the wrong way.
Harry saw it too, and tilted his head back in frustration. The sun glinted on his dark hair, his glasses. His cheeks were pink. "You have to tell her."
Hermione laughed. "Oh no. You go ahead and catch up. I'll follow the creature's trail."
"We're not separating," said Harry sharply. "We stick together. What if we cross the next hill and - there this thing is?"
Hermione had considered that the day before while they walked, but had no solution. "You're right. I haven't had time to research it properly. We're flying in the dark, aren't we?"
Harry nodded, his eyes still on Gin, who had not slowed or thought to look back at them in quite some time.
"All the more reason for us to stick together," she said softly, watching the genuine concern on his face.
He nodded. "I know. I didn't mean for us to fight. Without sharing details - it's the same general thing. She wants to be . . . closer. And I think it's . . ."
"Dangerous?"
He seemed relieved that she understood. "Exactly."
Hermione didn't understand, but she also didn't want to argue. This trip wasn't about that. Wasn't supposed to be anyway, gods help her.
They walked a bit further before Hermione flicked her wand to cut a bouquet of wildflowers from the field around them and zoomed it ahead to Ginny. She made it circle around Gin's head until she turned around and looked at them. Hermione waved her back toward them and pointed at the creature's actual trail.
They waited for her to return. When she walked up, faintly sweaty, she thanked Hermione, pointedly, for the flowers.
"You're welcome," smiled Hermione. "Shall we proceed?"
The question hung for a moment before Harry stepped forward to lead. "I will."
Ginny looked up into his face, frowning, but nodded. "I will, too."
"Then let's go." Hermione pointed to the west. "It's going to rain."
That was the next piece of bad luck, about an hour later. It didn't rain so much as the skies simply opened up and poured every drop in England down upon them. They shouted at each other, over the roar of the storm, about what to do. Should they stop? Pitch the tent early? But it wasn't thunder or lightning, just water, so they agreed to continue on as far as they could go.
Except that it hadn't rained in several weeks - since before the creature attacked on the Quidditch pitch and then began its chaotic journey over half of Yorkshire - and they quickly realized that the water must be weakening the thing's trail. Instead of being a consistent line to follow, the magical signatures became spotty. Broken up, disappearing in one spot and reappearing in another, a hundred yards away. They fanned out, casting the tracing spells over a larger area, and calling to one another through the downpour when they found it.
Hermione began to panic a bit, but she quashed it down. Harry's and Ginny's hands on her watch had left where they'd been - alternating between Travel and then Work - and were swinging back and forth over Lost.
"Harry!" she called through the downpour. "Ginny!"
They were far ahead, chasing the bit of trail they'd been able to find. She followed them over a low ridge, wiping water from her eyes and trying not to stumble over rocks.
But when she reached the top of the hill - they weren't to be found. Hermione whirled back and forth, scanning what little ground she could see before the rain curtained her off from the moors. Don't you panic, she ordered herself. Her watch whirred steadily at her wrist.
"Hermione!" she heard from behind. Turning, she saw a dark head pop up out of nowhere.
"Harry Potter, where did you go?" Her tone belied her irritation.
"Come down here! There's a cave!" He gestured to her to follow, and ducked away.
Hermione picked her way back down the path she'd followed to the top of the ridge, but now that she was looking for it saw the entrance - a space where the ground dipped into a slight depression. When she went closer, she saw the darkness within, leading down and into the earth.
"Hello?" she called tentatively.
"Hermione, you've got to come in here," he yelled back. She did not think. She followed him in.
The cave had high enough ceilings that she didn't hit her head. That was the nicest thing she could say about it. It was dark, and damp. Decidedly cave-like. The little sounds - of rustling bat wings and water dripping - were too loud in the omnipresent silence. Her friends were standing, waiting for her, on a lightly-trod path. It appeared to descend gradually for a short distance before it began to drop steeply, leading through stalactites and heaps of rocks and lots and lots of cobwebs.
The creature's trace, so spotty on the rain-slogged moors, was bright again. Clear as day, down that path.
Hermione gratefully hugged Ginny tightly. "That was unpleasant," they agreed. So is this, but they kept it to themselves.
Wringing water from her hair, and shirt, and shorts, she stepped away from Gin to follow the dim glow of Harry's wand. "Let's figure out where we are," she suggested.
"I went down a bit further," he offered. "The trail leads into a series of caverns. Whatever it is we're following, it went straight through."
"So the creature's in here," said Ginny solemnly.
Hermione glanced at Harry. "Are you sure?"
Ginny nodded. "The last of the trace led in here before it was washed away. I'm sure of it."
"There's no indication that it left." Harry agreed. "I think we should follow it down until we find a suitable flat space and make camp for the night. Make our way after it, deeper into the cave, tomorrow."
There was a pause in which each of them looked over their shoulders - as if the object of their pursuit would leap out and announce itself. "Well that complicates things," Hermione said softly.
"How so?" asked Ginny. She swung her pack off her shoulders and onto the ground.
"We can't stay here," whisper-screeched Hermione. "It's not safe."
Harry, his eyes on Ginny as she pulled off her wet shirt, leaving her in a sodden tank top, lowered his own pack. "It won't attack us, Hermione. It's been running hard. Whatever we're chasing, it's more afraid of us than we are of it."
"But it attacked those people-" she tried to protest weakly. "And in here - it's so quiet. We're easier to find."
Harry shrugged. "It could have gotten us out on the moor. And we're all tired."
He was right. They had been moving fast in the storm. Hermione was exhausted, soaking wet, and hungry. "Perhaps we can rest for just a bit while we figure out where we are. I'd like to get out the map. I don't recall seeing a cave in this area."
So down they walked, through a series of twisting tunnels and the occasional open cavern. After a while the walls opened up. The floor was smooth and even - "Prime spot for a fire!" chirped Ginny with forced cheerfulness - and the ceiling was just high enough to stand. Harry carefully surveyed the perimeter, checking for vulnerabilities. Other than the path which led back to the surface on one side and where it continued into another cavern on the other, there was nothing of note. Dirt. Damp. The echo of their scuffled steps. Ginny got to work, pulling things out of her bag and setting a bright flame ablaze.
Hermione busied herself with her maps, including a topographical one - that also didn't show this cave. "It's odd," she was saying to herself. Ginny and Harry were side-by-side across from her, preparing some kind of camp meal for dinner. There was a generous gap between them, and they awkwardly reached in turn for vegetables to peel and slice, careful not to let their hands meet. They were resolute in both their silence and refusal to touch. Fine.
Hermione would fill the void. "There are other caves in the area, but I swear this one doesn't appear."
Harry was mumbling that the map wasn't too detailed, or maybe they ventured further off course than she thought, when they heard them.
Footsteps.
Each of their three heads jerked up and toward the entrance. Harry had dropped his paring knife and was stepping forward, wand drawn, before Ginny or Hermione could stand.
The steps advanced. They marched, confident and loud, in time to the pounding of Hermione's heart. Booted feet. A person. One with long legs, judging by the cadence. And someone who had been here before - whoever it was, he wasn't hesitating, picking his way awkwardly to find and follow the path the way they had. No, he was striding, sure-footed, through the cave toward them, his boots ringing on the stone.
Harry whispered an order. "Ginny, Hermione, get behind me."
Which they each wordlessly ignored, aligning themselves at his sides. Wands raised, in triangle formation, they waited.
The steps were just beyond the cavern now, so close they echoed. Hermione could no longer hear anything but the roaring of her blood in her ears. Then he was there, in the room with them, and stepping forward into circle of their Lumos spells.
Fear was a taste on her tongue.
Rippling black robes, open.
Shiny boots.
Dark trousers.
A slender torso beneath, swathed in more black.
Pale hands lightly holding a wand. But pale hair, too. White blond.
And his face. A chiselled jaw, high cheekbones, lips pressed furiously together and grey eyes glinting -
She gasped at the same moment Ginny's wand bobbled and Harry said - conversationally, as if he'd expected him - "Hello, Draco."