PART V: WAR
"Have you tried casting with it?" Harry asked as he sat on the bed beside her.
Hermione shook her head and laid the bonewhite wand at her side. "It feels wrong to even think of using it," she said. "It was Professor Dumbledore's. It'd be like— like— well, I don't know."
Ron nodded sagely. "It's pretty personal, yeah? I mean, I'd never use someone else's wand."
"No one would ever let you," Draco teased. "Not unless they want it blown up."
"Say that to my face, you ferret," the redhead replied.
"I thought I just did. Or is that thing on your head actually your arse?"
"Draco!" Hermione closed the book she'd been reading, deciding that the boys were far too restless to continue her studies.
Her best friend had the grace to blush, but didn't look at all apologetic for his comment.
"He called me a ferret," was the pathetic defense. She shook her head.
"Come on," Harry said. "Let's see if they've finished baking my birthday cake yet. I'm starving."
Hermione followed the boys up and out of the room, but not without admonishing Harry first. "Harry James Potter, if you ruin the cake the day before your birthday, you know the mums will be furious with you They might well cancel the whole party."
"My coming-of-age party?" He scoffed. "As if my mum would ever dream of it. I'm finally old enough for real consequences for my actions. Do you know how long she's been waiting for the day?"
"About seventeen years," Hermione deadpanned, arms crossed over her chest.
Harry's emerald eyes went wide. "I just wanna see it, smell it. Maybe I'll grab a snack while we're in there."
"That had better be all," she said.
They were staying at the Burrow for the moment. The hodgepodge house was central for the Order of the Phoenix and thus used for any big gatherings. With more bedrooms than the Potter house in Godric's Hollow, people could also double, even triple up in rooms. And it had excellent security provided by not only top Aurors, but curse breakers like Bill Weasley as well.
Hermione had learned every single ward as James Potter checked them daily her first week staying there. They might come in handy should she ever need to ward a room or a home.
Or a tent.
Hermione had told no one that she was thinking of going on the run, but the thought was more prevalent by the day. She had charmed a cute little bag Narcissa gave her with an Undetectable Extension spell and begun packing everything she might need. She was fairly certain Draco and Harry knew something was going on with her, but they hadn't confronted her as of yet.
Thus far, she had managed to learn wards and apparition, and she and the others worked on their duelling skills a few days a week just in case.
There were plenty adults willing to spar with them and Hermione learned a great deal from the older wizards and witches./wipotm/
She didn't quite have Harry's natural talent; he was agile, with quick reflexes. However, her spell repertoire was quite a bit larger than his and she was more creative in the moment. Draco was somewhere between her and Harry in both regards, while Ron was quick-thinking and could invent strategies for dealing with certain styles.
It was strange to think of the battle readiness of her friends, but that was the world she lived in now.
A knock to Harry's door called her attention away from her musings and to the moment. Lily Potter peaked in. If she was at all worried about the closed door when Harry had a girl present, she didn't say. "There's someone here to see you. It's, well, he says he's Professor Dumbledore's brother."
The four of them exchanged looks before rising to their feet and following Lily to the sitting room.
The man, scruffy and old and tired, was instantly familiar. "You run the Hog's Head."
He nodded. "Name's Aberforth. I'm here to hand out some things he left in my care not long ago. Here."
On the table he set a puzzlebox and a book.
"He wanted to leave ye some other things— the sword of Gryffindor, of all things, but the Ministry confiscated some and, well, the sword didn't rightfully belong to my brother."
"Thank you, sir," said Harry. He reached for the puzzlebox and started turning it around for inspection.
"Pardon, Potter, but these are meant for the girl," the old bartender said with a nod to Hermione.
"Right." Harry held the box out to Hermione and she continued the inspection from there.
Draco slid the book toward him and opened the cover. " The Tales of Beedle the Bard ? This is a children's book. Why would Dumbledore leave this to Hermione?"
"I won't pretend to understand my brother," said Aberforth. "We didn't exactly get on."
Hermione set down the puzzlebox and folded her hands in her lap. "This is all very well and good, but why leave me anything? It's not as though Professor Dumbledore showed me favoritism."
"Well, except during classes," said Harry. "Every teacher showed you favoritism during class—"
"Except Snape," Ron added.
"Right," Harry agreed.
Aberforth glanced between the four students, shook his head, then slapped his knee to rise. "Well, that's all I was here for. Some ministry official was supposed to come and handle all this, but no one turned up for Albus' will after he passed, so…"
"Thank you very much, Mr. Dumbledore," Hermione told him as she rose to mirror him. He shook her hand, his own skin dry and leathery, his grip firm.
"Don't thank me, Miss Granger." He shook his head again. "Something tells me no good will come of this."
Harry escorted the man to the door and she picked up the book. Draco was right; it wasn't exactly mature reading, though this copy appeared even older than the edition at Malfoy Manor. She skimmed through weathered pages until she stopped at the story of the Deathly Hallows, where inscribed was a rune she didn't recognize. It looked like a triangle with a circle inside, the whole thing bisected by a line.
"Draco, what's this?" She leaned toward her friend, pointing at the symbol.
He frowned and leaned closer to inspect it. "I don't know. I'm not familiar with it. Potter," he said when Harry returned. "Do you know it?"
Harry shook his head. "No, but maybe Dad knows, or Sirius, or one of that lot."
They moved en masse to the kitchen, where Lily, James, and Molly were working on dinner preparations. There would be a lot of folks coming to celebrate Harry, so it was an "all hands on deck" kind of day. Sirius and Arthur were out in the garden while the twins de-gnomed; it was their responsibility to raise the tent and ensure the right amount of tables and chairs.
"Harry James Potter, you're not supposed to be in here." Molly waggled a ladle at him, the other hand on her hip. "Out you get."
"But Mrs. Weasley—"
"What's this? Harry's in here?" Lily turned from overseeing the chopping of vegetables (all concurrently cut via magic).
"We had a question." Hermione piped up before James could add to the din, or Mrs. Weasley could shepherd them out; the woman was quite a force. "Professor Dumbledore left me this book and there's a symbol in it."
This piqued the adults' interest and Hermione set it on the table to show them all.
"That's— that's a dangerous symbol, Hermione. I'm surprised Albus would have owned a book so marked," said James. He had one hand holding down the page as he stared at the volume. "Gellert Grindewald used this symbol; it's used by all who hunt the Hallows."
"The Hallows from the story?" Hermione shook her head. "But they're not real."
He turned those hazel eyes on her. "Whyever not? Albus thought our cloak might be one."
She balked at that. "You mean, you have the Invisibility Cloak?"
"It's been in my family as long as anyone can remember. It was already an old family heirloom when my father received it." He shrugged.
"But the story— Death gives the brothers their Hallows." Hermione shook her head. "Surely you don't believe that?"
"Why not? Anything is possible in a world of magic, though most people who believe the Hallows exist think it's metaphorical, that the brothers created the Hallows themselves," James explained, taking a seat at the table. "In fact, there are some who believe the story came into being around a single Hallow, the Elder Wand, and that its journey can be tracked."
Hermione itched to take notes, to write down questions as they occurred to her. The student in her was excited at the prospect of a new topic. "Wait, can it really? There's evidence?"
James nodded. "It was believed Grindewald had it. It's why he never lost a duel until Albus met him on the battlefield."
"Then it's not unbeatable," Ron countered.
"No, not entirely. After all, someone who doesn't cast at all could never beat an opponent who does." The older man steepled his hands. "And we all know who defeated Grindewald, so theoretically the wand would belong to…"
They fell silent. While the parents all grimaced, the boys glanced at her. No one but them knew the facts, that Hermione had disarmed Professor Dumbledore before his death.
The pale wand in her possession, the one that had belonged to her professor, was supposedly the Death Stick itself. And Harry had access to the Invisibility Cloak if Dumbledore had been right. "So we need to find the Resurrection Stone?" The young man had taken a seat catty corner to his father.
"What?" Hermione laughed. "Why would you say that?"
"Well, it's obvious, right? That's why Dumbledore gave you this book," said Ron.
"That doesn't mean anything. He could've hidden a code or— or any number of other reasons," she replied. "Just like this puzzle box."
"It could be hiding the stone," Harry pointed out.
She laughed. "Professor Dumbledore wouldn't do something so irresponsible. What if his brother had never brought it to us? No, it's not the stone in here. It's something else."
Hermione raised the box and felt along the little grooves and enameled edges. There were only a few lines of shining color on the otherwise brass box, and they were somewhat random in their placement.
She twisted and turned the moving pieces and two of the lines clicked together. Perhaps they weren't so random after all.
Notes:
Some actual announcements: This story is about to get darker again. Gird your loins.
Also, new Tomione just dropped on AO3, might move it here too, and I'll be trying to contain myself at one chapter a week. NGL, I am having a ton of fun writing it. I may have written 30k words in four days. Ooops.
Also, for those who love TTV, I am formatting it for binding, but not looking to make a lot of copies, so... (nor to make a profit on it; it's pretty much at cost plus shipping, and an excuse to have a paper copy of the longest story I've written since junior high). Also, if people want to bind their own copies, I'm cool with that. Tag me? Because some people are gifted with it.
Anyway, I will see y'all next weekend.