CH14: Tragedy Strikes

September 7th,

6:03am

Black Chateau, Isle of Man

Daphne

The morning air of September seventh was wrought with a sinister chill. The only other time Daphne had been woken with urgency was when St Mungo's had been attacked and by the grave look on the auror's face, she would dislike whatever awaited her no less.

She had been accompanied by Harry of course, one look at his face told her he was too tired to bother hiding his concern. He'd gotten better at concealing his emotions in times of need but his furrowed brow and deep-set frown was enough of a give away.

The guard led them closer to the forest, around the backside of the house and past the greenhouses. Even at such an early hour, people were milling about the camp leisurely, some exercising and some simply doing a shift on guard.

'Is that Blaise?' Right by the wards' northern border, a dark skinned man was crouched beside a pile of dirt. His shoulders shook violently which Daphne found odd. 'It's cold, but no colder than normal…'

As they grew closer, she heard Blaise's whimpers and found that he wasn't crouched, he was on his knees. Harry broke into a sprint for the final twenty or so metres but stopped abruptly beside the kneeling teenager.

His mouth agape, his legs failing him, he fell.

'No, surely not.' She too quickened her step and closed the distance in naught but a second and her fears were confirmed. An unmarked grave, its occupant… Hermione Granger.

Her generally fair skin was covered in dirt and roots and the front of her shirt was stained red. A large gash across her neck explained the blood and was most likely the cause of her passing.

She felt the emptiness of loss take hold in her stomach but she was not so distraught to forget about her lover. Harry had reached into the pit with shaky arms and hoisted Hermione up from her back and legs. Tears flowed down his cheeks like rapids and his glasses became foggy as he adjusted the dead Gryffindor girl and set off towards the house.

"Through the greenhouses," she told him gently and she was thankful he wasn't too grief stricken to listen. The first shift for the greenhouse guards wouldn't start for another three hours, a day too late.

September 7th

10:22am

Black Chateau, Isle of Man

Harry

"This can not be allowed to stand!"

Blaise's furious exclamation was followed by his fist slamming down on the wooden table. The meeting room consisted of only the inner circle of trust, no late joiners, not even Bill and Kingsley.

"What can we do? Mass interrogations?"

Daphne's suggestion was met with concerned glances as what she considered 'interrogation' was well known to be much worse than questioning.

"How," Harry felt a lump in his throat as he tried to get his question out. "How did she die?"

Moody cleared his throat and replied, "from what we can tell, there was a small scuffle, her wand had been used to cast a cutting curse, bombarda maxima and banishers of some kind."

"We believe the cutting curse was cast by the perpetrator as she was found with a twelve centimetre laceration on the side of her neck." Tonks continued for Moody, falling back on the more clinical auror description to avoid her grief.

His left arm tensed under the table as he balled his hand into a fist, his nails digging into his palm. "She died," he growled angrily, "choking on her own blood?"

"She was stunned first," Moody stated shortly.

"Was she…" The implication hung in the air for the briefest, tensest of seconds before Tonks realised what Harry's train of thought and quickly refuted it.

"No! The theory is we're dealing with a first time killer. The strike wasn't clean and typically that means the killer was nervous, not a psychopath and certainly not a rapist."

"No one says anything." Daphne's declaration that broke the solemn silence startled all those present.

"Daphne?" Tonks asked, confused.

"No one can know outside of the people in this room," Daphne elaborated. If Harry was in a more stable mindset, he might've noticed just how much pain Daphne was in too.

"You're just going to sweep it under the rug?"

"We just avoided a mass panic about our food shortage, we need to keep morale as high as possible," Daphne explained rationally, but rationale was in short supply.

A thud echoed off the walls as Blaise brought his hand down on the table in anger again. "Fine, if you won't do anything about this murderer then I will." Blaise was understandably inconsolable and as he violently stood his chair crashed behind him. He stormed off with clenched fists and heavy footfalls, wrenched the door open and slammed it closed.

"Follow him, confine him to his room, but check on him please." Daphne said the words so softly that Harry was surprised Tonks had heard them.

"Understood." Tonks left the room swiftly to follow the command. Daphne sighed heavily, slouched in her chair and moved her hand to massage her temples. She too was taking the loss heavily, having taken a liking to the intelligent Gryffindor's friendship.

"You said there was a fight? Is it possible she may have injured her opponent?" Remus asked, finally breaking his own silence.

"That spell chain, I taught her that… we'd be looking for someone with pain in the ribs or chest." Harry's realisation only brought on more pain. 'Was she proud before she lost consciousness? A test passed too late…'

"No, not you."

"What?" Once again Daphne shocked those in the room by denying Harry any involvement but none more than Harry himself who replied in shock. "What do you mean?"

"You will be sitting here," Daphne got up out of her chair at the head of the table and stood behind it. "Moody and I will lead the investigation."

"She deserves justice." He'd never spoken to Daphne with such seething rage, not even when he had caught her tailing him two years ago. Harry felt a twinge of shame after he became conscious of that fact but was still suffering from his outrage.

"That is why I refuse you your vengeance," Daphne retorted hotly. "Like I told Blaise, we need to keep morale high. With you leading the day to day, it will keep you busy and let the people see you, the hero Harry Potter, with their own eyes."

He didn't feel like a hero, not right now at least. He could feel the cold machine that was his anger, churning away like a set of cogs, each one building to compounding the next. This feeling was his alone, that he could be sure about at least, there was nothing foreign about his rage.

"They die." It was a statement, not a question.

"They die," she easily agreed. Afterall, no one wants to bunk with someone they can't trust.

The room fell into an uneasy silence, each of them trying and failing to process their grief. Harry broke it.

"Where is she?"

"In the medical building," Moody answered then addressed the rest. "Sally knows too as she assisted with the autopsy."

"I will take her to her family," Harry stated as he stood. He could barely recognize the commands his brain was giving to his body as he made for the door.

Daphne called out for him and offered, "I'll come with you."

"No," he refused her with his hand on the door handle. "Not for this."

September 7th

12:19pm

Heathgate Garden Suburb, England

Harry

The crisp air hung heavy with grief as Harry approached the modest suburban home of Hermione Granger's parents. The familiar surroundings seemed achingly out of place for the sombre task he was about to undertake. The neatly trimmed hedges and cheerful garden felt like an affront to the tragedy that had befallen their lives.

Harry took a deep breath, his heart heavy, and knocked gently on the door. The moments that followed felt like an eternity, each passing second a reminder of the devastating news he carried.

The door creaked open, revealing Mr. and Mrs. Granger, their faces etched with concern. Hermione's mother, a warm smile permanently etched in her features, spoke first. "Oh, Harry! Did you get a haircut?"

'Right, the code,' Harry remembered. In an effort to have at least some security for the muggle families; they had issued a protocol to ask a security question upon arrival. "Yes, actually just yesterday."

"It's good to see you dear, come on in." Mrs Granger ushered him into the entrance way as she continued to speak. "Has Hermione sent you to try and convince us again? You need to tell her to stop worrying about us."

Harry swallowed hard, his voice catching in his throat. "I... I wish that were the case," he began, his eyes meeting theirs with a heavy burden of sorrow. "I need to talk to you about Hermione."

A look of alarm crossed their faces as Mr. Granger spoke with a tremor in his voice, "What's happened? Is she okay?"

Harry shook his head, his voice trembling as he delivered the devastating news. "I'm so sorry. Hermione... she's gone."

A gasp of disbelief escaped Hermione's mother, her hand flying to her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes. Mr. Granger's face contorted with pain as he stumbled backward, his legs barely supporting him.

Harry stepped forward, a torrent of guilt and sadness crashing over him. He wished there was something he could say to ease their suffering, but there were no words to fill the void left by Hermione's absence.

"Her bravery, her intelligence, and her friendship meant the world to me," Harry said, his voice choking with emotion. "She was undoubtedly the best of us, and she will be deeply missed."

"But… we saw her not even a week ago, you're lying!" Mr Granger accused him, having not accepted Harry's words.

With great care, he retrieved Hermione's coffin from his pocket and resized it. Gently, he laid it on the living room floor, her lifeless form a haunting reminder of the vibrant young woman she had once been.

Hermione's parents clung to each other, their grief overwhelming. Harry couldn't bear to intrude any longer on their private moment of sorrow, there was but one more thing to say.

"I'm so sorry," Harry whispered, his voice barely audible as he turned away, unable to bear the pain etched on their faces any longer.

Leaving Hermione's parents to their grief, he stepped out into the cold air, a heavy emptiness settling in his chest. The weight of the loss he had just delivered was almost unbearable, and Harry knew that the world would never be the same without Hermione Granger in it.

September 10th

12:31am

Black Chateau, Isle of Man

Unknown

The forest was once again alight with the fire of treachery, the traitors gathering deeper into the forest this time. This time the air was tense with the murder of Hermione Granger the topic of hot discussion.

"Killing her was foolish, she's part of the command team for Merlin's sake!"

"The girl was freakishly intelligent, she would have found a way to warn them" The man stopped talking to cough violently, "besides, all you did was get tangled up."

"Quiet the both of you, one less mouth to feed is fine by me, but we must focus on something grander."

"We need to undermine Greengrass," a female voice cut in, "when the others see how foolish it was to put our faith in a pureblood heiress, they'll flock to our side."

"Potter won't go for it,"

"Potter follows whoever he's told to follow; Dumbledore, Damien Greengrass, Daphne Greengrass. He'll do what we tell him to do."

"We must strike soon, the longer we wait, the more time we give Greengrass to solve our little food situation."

"I know what to do," the second man said triumphantly. "It is risky, but it will crumble the hold the Greengrass girl has on the seat of power," a foreboding smile played at the corner of his lips, "then we will control the food."