"You lot think this is funny?!" demanded an auror, the man looming over them as Crouch glared at Hermione.
Percy stood in the background, clearly divided, but put his head down, his neck matching his hair's red.
"The dark mark!" Crouch spat. "Creating panic when an attack's already on-going. This is sick, the wand, Miss Snape."
Eyes stared at Hermione with pity and she shrank, fighting the ache in her legs as she put her unharmed foot in front of her bruised and swollen one. Hiro opened his mouth, before Hermione rested a hand on his arm.
"It's fine," she said in Japanese before saying it again to the others, who looked ready to jump to her defence. Rage bubbled within the pit of her stomach, but she knew compliance was her only option, and none of them could afford to draw the aurors' ire.
"Here," she said, forcing herself to stand straight.
"Prior Incanti!" Crouch announced, and an image of an open gash in Nicolay's leg stitching shut proved Hermione's innocence, unless Crouch wanted to simply get her for underage casting.
"So it wasn't you," the other auror said. "Everyone line up!"
Hermione translated for both Hiro and his lot, as well as Sophie and Eloise. Anya shot daggers at the auror, but translated his orders to Nickolay.
One by one, each had the most previous spell from their wands revealed, each a counter curse, defensive or minor healing spell. When the auror asked what they were doing, each explained how the events of the night unfolded.
"That's incredibly reckless," Crouch said, "But it seems you kids might have the makings of aurors."
Anya let out a bitter laugh. "Unlikely!"
Harry's face screwed up and he turned to the petite blonde girl. "What's wrong with being an auror? Don't they do exactly what we just did?"
"So, naive," Anya shook her head with a sigh.
"You'll be glad we exist next time you get attacked, missy!" the unnamed auror spat at her.
Hermione was starting to feel the exact opposite, watching the self important grown man spit at a teenage girl due to a bruised ego.
In the meantime, Nickolay had been on his hands and knees, his face lit up as he found his wand. "Namerikh go!" he exclaimed.
"Give it here, boy," Crouch demanded.
Nicolay's dark eyes grew in size and he shrank under Crouch's enormity.
Anya opened her mouth to speak when Kaori stopped her and bowed to the aurors.
"Sorry, aurors," she said. "Nicolay doesn't speak any English."
"Can't Anya translate for him?" Percy asked, fixing his glasses.
Anya glared at Percy, before turning and translating to Nicolay with softer tones.
Hermione wondered what happened to the bubbly blonde German who almost always wore a smile. The one who confidently told Mr Weasley she was Kaori's girlfriend, and nearly sang when addressing her kohais? Hermione didn't think Anya was capable of the bitter venom that filled every stare.
The lot of them stared in disbelief as the arsenic green smoke billowed out to form the horrific cracked skull and snake writhing through its orifices and coiling around it to bear its fangs and glare at them with those petrifying emerald eyes.
There's no way in hell Nicolay could've done that, or even know about it, Hermione stared at the horrified little boy, now milk white in terror.
"I guess we have our culprit," the auror said, grabbing the young boy's wrists.
"Wait," Hermione begged. "He can't have done it, sir!"
Hiro nodded. "With him the whole time!"
Harry spoke at the same time. "He's too young, and I didn't know that spell!"
"We don't even know what the Dark Mark is!" Ron said.
Each plea came at the same time, the non-English speakers trying their best to mount their arguments when Anya shouted.
"Nicolay's eleven! " Anya roared. "Just got his wand before the event. I don't think he knows any spells. It's just like you damn aurors, always jumping to conclusions! My parents left Bulgaria because fucking idiots like you don't care who the dark wizard is, so long as you have a bad guy to parade before the masses! You make me sick!"
"You stupid bint!" the unnamed auror roared back.
"Is that a German accent?" Crouch asked. "Maybe you shouldn't apply fairy-tales your parents told you from a country you can't remember to one you've never been to."
Anya's anger was palpable and Hermione stepped between her and the aurors, bowed her head and tried to think of how to diffuse the situation.
The bang from the tree line, that's probably where the spell came from. "Sorry, Mr Crouch and Auror—erm—"
"Cromwell," he said.
Hermione nodded. "Auror Cromwell, we've been through a lot, and my friend has a point. Nicolay couldn't have. You see, he lost his–"
"There you are!" Mr Weasley ran over to them, taking the time to hug each of the Weasleys and Harry.
Mr Weasley turned to Cromwell and Crouch. "This is where the Dark Mark was found?"
"Yeah," Cromwell said. "Luckily there were no Death Eaters, just a sick little kid who thought he was funny."
Mr Weasley stared at the terrified little boy and then scanned the rest of his group, before rolling his blue eyes and gesturing to them. "You can't be serious! That boy is far too young to know what the Dark Mark is, and I know my kids would never do something like only that but—" he pointed to Harry. "Do you know who this is?! Harry Potter wouldn't be casting the Dark Mark as a bloody prank! And nor would any of his friends."
Crouch nodded. "It does seem highly unlikely that Potter or his friends would, but the boy's wand did cast the Dark Mark."
"This is ridiculous and you know it, Barty," he challenged.
Hermione clasped her hands before her and walked over to Mr Weasley. She hoped she'd be listened to. She counted to three, and spoke. "Mr Weasley, Mr Crouch, may I–erm–speak?"
"Of course, Hermi—" Mr Weasley's eyes widened and for the first time Hermione appreciated her current state. "What happened to you? Are you okay?"
The blood on her knuckles was normal and everyone knew how she opened those wounds and reopened them. But her skin was abnormally pale, she held herself upright, but it was likely obvious how hard it was for her. Her bare arms were covered in scratches from the foliage, as well as her now exposed legs, one of her bare feet was swollen and bruised, and her nightdress was now visibly torn from all of the bracelets she made. Others bore scars, but she was clearly worse for wear.
"I'm fine, Mr Weasley," she lifted her wrist to show the bracelet. "I-I—erm—used the fabric from my nightdress for a connecting threads spell. I-I–erm–didn't want us to get separated. Cast a lot of defensive spells, I–erm–I'm just a little drained."
Mr Weasley nodded, and turned to the twins who gave a thumbs up and nod. Relief briefly registered, before concern returned. "Barty, these kids–-my kids— look like they've been through hell. I can promise the Dark Mark didn't come from them."
"About that," Hermione said. "There was a loud bang, and Nicolay lost his wand. I think—erm—I think someone used it to cast the Dark Mark, sirs."
Hiro, Saiyaka, Harry and Ron approached the shrubbery close to the tree line. Hermione moved to join them, her wand out just in case, and she gasped at what she found.
A small house-elf lying in the shrubbery, clad in a tea towel and her brown eyes filled with tears. She looked smaller and more fragile than Nicolay at that moment. Hermione offered the small house elf her hand, which Winky only gingerly took.
"WINKY!" Crouch yelled as she came out from the hedge.
Winky shrank her body as small as she could and approached Crouch holding herself. "Yes, sir?" she sniffed.
Crouch scowled at Winky, his eyes casting a toxic gaze, as if Winky were some ill-developed potion, or a tool that failed to serve its purpose. Hermione swore she saw people treat rats with more reverence than Crouch's baleful gaze suggested.
"Tell me the truth, Winky," he snarled. "Did you take this boy's wand to cast the Dark Mark?"
Winky nodded stiffly and began to sob. "Winky wanted Harry Potter's wand, but it was easier to get the little boy's wand. She hid in the bushes, Mr Crouch sir, and c-cast th-th-the sp-spell. I-I–"
Crouch's eyes narrowed and at the crumpled house elf, whose face was buried in shame. The poor thing couldn't even finish, as she began to wail.
"Put yourself together, Winky," Crouch spat. "You're a disgrace."
"W-winky's twelve, sir," Hermione mentioned. "House elves don't reach maturity before their first century."
Cromwell narrowed his eyes. "Regardless, use of wands by house elves and goblins is illegal. You know what that means, Barty."
"I do," he nodded. "Winky, this means clothes!"
Winky trembled and clutched at his robes as she let out a shriek. "Please, no! W-w-winky's been with you her whole life. D-don't be sacking Winky, sir! Please!"
Crouch ripped the ends of his robes back from the tiny elf, not caring how it flung her forward. Winky's face landed in the dirt, and she didn't bother to get herself up, as sobs wracked her little body.
"You should consider yourself lucky to just be sacked. You broke the law. I won't sully myself further with a house elf who thinks the laws I enforce are a joke. You are released."
"Mr Crouch, I beg you!" she cried.
"I'll have someone deliver the clothes. Get out of my site before I decide on more extreme measures."
Hermione shook with rage, staring at the house elf child Crouch insulted, discharged and abandoned. In the long run, her freedom should have been better for her, but Winky thought of the sickening man as family. Did she have living parents she was now disowned from? Did she have anything?
Saiyaka ran to kneel by Winky, offering her a pink handkerchief and whispering gently to her. With Saiyaka tending to Winky, Hermione forced her feet forward, adrenaline once again displacing the pain and exhaustion.
"Fuck you, Crouch!" Hermione screamed.
"Hermione!" Percy and Mr Weasley exclaimed.
"Don't be speaking to Mr Crouch that way, Miss!" Winky squeaked.
"Excuse me?" Crouch scoffed. "I thought you were upset she framed the little Bulgarian boy?"
Hermione extended herself to her full height and tried to mount enough courage to back up her stupidity. "Some of us are capable of experiencing a greater emotional depth than that of a bloody teaspoon. Were you remotely capable of empathy, you might!"
"Hermione's been through quite a bit, Barty," Mr Weasley said. "Just look at her."
"Let the girl finish," Crouch said.
Hermione stared at the crumpled house elf, then turned to the eleven-year-old boy lost in a foreign country where he didn't speak the language. Both defenceless, both drawing the ire and so-called justice of Bartemus Crouch.
"Forget it!" she snapped, turning back to kneel by Winky's side. "I'm obviously wasting my breath on you. Just remember you were ready to punish a lost little boy and abandoned a house elf that is no more than a child. You disgust me."
"Master Crouch is a good man!" Winky objected through her sobs.
"So naive," Crouch said. "And impulsive. Too bad, you showed promise. Potter, you and your lot have done well. I'm impressed."
"Erm—" Harry looked between the elf, Hermione. "Thank you, sir?"
"Auror bastard," Anya grumbled under her breath as Crouch walked away.
Mr Weasley stared at the lot of them, relief etched in his face at Harry, each of his sons and Ginny, followed by some mixture of pity and disappointment crossed his face as he regarded Hermione and Anya.
Hermione shrank, knowing she betrayed the man's kindness. Was this all she was to grown ups? A disappointment? Yet, Winky buried her face in the dirt, abandoned. And free. But the way he treated her...What happened to the girl that thought everything through thrice? As painful as it was, she now missed it. But raged consumed her. She didn't even think to comfort Winky, she only wanted to explode in vindictive rage and cause as much hurt as she possibly could.
Because I am just like my father…
"I-I-I'm so sorry, Mr Weasley," Hermione stared at the grass.
"I—" Mr Weasley sighed. "I suppose what matters is that everybody is safe. We have an early morning. Let's go."
Hermione looked at the frightened little boy clinging to Anya's arm, and the confused French girls. How many people were separated from their family without knowing a word of English? She clasped her hands together and inhaled deeply. She squeezed harder, some part of her believing that if she dug her nails deep enough into her own flesh, if she hurt enough, maybe somehow, the pain she caused could be undone. Or make the stupid thing she was about to say less stupid.
"I-I-I–" Hermione bit her lip and inhaled again. "I know I'm the last person you want to talk to right now. But others might be separated from their families. I–erm–I speak several languages. I-I-I think it's better for everyone if I do that. The aurors m-might be intimidating—erm—sir!"
Anya nodded. "I'll go too. We'll be more helpful than the aurors."
Cho took a hesitant step forward. "I'll help you. I doubt either of you speak Chinese."
"An Irish speaker would be useful, given we're in Ireland," Seamus said. "Though it'll be mostly old folks rather than people our age. Tell me mam I'm fine, yeah, Dean?"
Dean nodded.
Mr Weasley once more scanned the lot of them before casting a lingering glance to Nicolay. He shook his head and sighed. "I hate to admit it, but you're right. Keep that spell active so you don't get separated."
"Wait," Hermione looked over at the still wailing house elf. "Can't we do anything for her?"
"We'll stay with her," Saiyaka said in Japanese with Hiro and Miyuki kneeling opposite her.
They nodded, arranged themselves into pairs, Hiro and Kaori both casting nervous glances their way. After a promise they'd be alright, they separated from the group, with Nicolay, Eloise, and Sophie to reunite them with their families.
As they made for the tree line, Mr Weasley called out "And for Merlin's sake, be careful!"
The goal with the pairs was to spread out the languages. Anya and Cho went one way, reuniting with families, while Hermione was paired with her former classmate, Seamus, who praised Hermione for "sticking it to the man".
"I-it was incredibly stupid," she sighed. "I just hope I didn't get Mr Weasley into too much trouble."
Seamus pointed out a group of boys their age speaking in Greek. Hermione could read Greek, but the spoken language was beyond her. Though with signing and poorly pronounced words, she was able to point each of them to the muster station set up by the ministry.
"And here I thought English was common in Greece," Hermione mused.
Seamus shrugged. "It's technically the official language in Ireland, but most rural grannies can hardly speak it."
Hermione paused. She never really thought about it before. She knew how English became a major language in Europe, but she never thought of what Seamus called 'the rural grannies' of the situation. She supposed she just assumed everyone in those countries was bilingual.
"I'll let you sit with that, English," Seamus said, with a teasing tone, but Hermione suspected there was something under the wink.
"I might be Scottish," Hermione shrugged, hoping the "something underneath" her teasing tone was less apparent than his.
"Sure you are," Seamus rolled his grey eyes and scoffed. "You just sound like a Surrey girl, Hermione Elizabeth. Don't reckon there's a more English name out there."
"Try something like, Sir Reginald Englishman, I promise one exists," Hermione rolled her eyes and chuckled. "I always forget the whole school knows my first middle name. Guess that's just one of the perks of being a teacher's daughter!"
"And I can't believe Snape lets you stay with the Weasleys and Harry over summers."
"Trust me," she sighed. "He did not like it."
"I can just imagine his face when Harry and Ron invited you," Seamus laughed. "He have a hard time sending off his poor baby girl?"
"Oh, Ron is so dead when I get back to the tent," she said, but could stop the laughter. "Or my dad, or both. Buachaill beag!"
"I'd ask if you speak Irish, but your accent is uafásach, Surrey."
"Tolta!" Hermione teased back, surprised to be enjoying time with a classmate she never really paid much attention to. "Surrey, huh," she mused. "It's possible I was born there…"
Seamus stared at her, his grey eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open. "You mean you don't know?"
Hermione felt heat rush to her cheeks and clasped her hands together, her nails finding the familiar grooves and she tried to steady her breathing. They were barely acquaintances, and here she was musing aloud. For so many years she'd stayed silent, why now was it impossible for her to shut up? Stupid piece of shit.
"That little girl by the ash tree looks lost," Hermione said, almost thankful for the small girl's misfortune. "Let's go help her."
The small girl had dark brown hair and ruddy cheeks, probably from crying. Hermione knelt down beside her. "Hello."
"Oneechan?" the little girl asked.
'Oneechan?' Do I look like her—Right, little kids call older kids that. "What's your name?"
"Shizuku Akane," she said. "Where are my parents?"
"We'll help you, find them, Akane-chan."
The two walked toward the muster station, Hermione holding little Akane's hand. Seamus summoned sweets for her, and she happily ate them as they walked.
"So you honestly don't know where you come from?" he asked.
Hermione focused on little Akane, but she needed no comfort with a comically large lollipop in her free hand. We've probably taught her a terrible lesson. Strangers with sweets will deliver you safely to your parents.
"I-I don't want to talk about it," she said. "Sorry."
"Okay," Seamus said with an ease Harry and Ron never had when she wanted to drop a subject. "But if you're not going to sate my curiosity, you have to tell me about Ginny Weasley. Is she seeing someone?"
Ginny..I thought you liked Dean? I suppose you could like both, but I did not see that coming.
"So from personal to me to personal for one of my friends," Hermione sighed. "I don't think so. She's very pretty though. Like 'I-would-kill-to-look-like-her' pretty. So, I don't think she'll be single for long. If you're asking to see if she has a crush, you're fresh out of luck."
Seamus's cheeks turned pink and looked down. "It's not about—-It's just, Dean's got a bit of a crush. I-I'm just trying to be a good mate. Y'know, see his chances?"
"Ginny's not once mentioned Dean, sorry," Hermione said, thinking back to Saiyaka's crush on her, when Hermione was pining for both Yamato siblings. That must be so hard…
Seamus, however, visibly perked up at this information. Perhaps it meant he had a chance if Dean wasn't on Ginny's radar.
"So would you actually kill to look like her?" Seamus asked.
"Heavens no!" she said, then winked and stuck out her tongue. "There's polyjuice potions for that!"
"A bit extreme that!" He laughed before inhaling and his cheeks flushed. "So, what about the Patil twins? Do they fancy anyone?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Parvarti and I don't really do much girl talk, but I can promise you, Padma has no interest in Dean."
Relief crossed Seamus's face and Hermione was certain that she had been right about him.
"How many girls does Dean fancy anyway?" Hermione teased. "Should I be insulted that I'm the only girl not on his list?"
Seamus chuckled at this. "You don't know that for sure."
"But I'm right, aren't I?" she asked, enjoying the back and forth more than she thought.
"Oneechan!" Akane whined. "Ashi ga tsukareta!"
"Ah, gomen," Hermione nodded and knelt down to pick her up, but squeaked and tears sprang to her eyes as she put the extra weight down on her foot.
"Oniichan herupu Akane-chan?" Seamus said, a little clumsily, taking the four-year-old into his arms.
She nodded and cuddled into Seamus's chest, happy to no longer be walking on her tiny tired legs.
"You're learning Japanese?" Hermione asked.
"I watch anime with my Dad over the summers. You pick a bit of it up here and there," Seamus shrugged.
"When you're offering aid, you want to say 'tasukemasu'," Hermione offered, patting Akane's head.
"Know-it-all!" Seamus rolled his eyes, but still smiled. "So why do you want to be on Dean's list? Do you fancy him? I thought you were with that Hiro bloke?"
"You know?" Hermione asked.
"The whole Gryffindor table knows," Seamus laughed. "So don't be going after Dean."
Hermione now rolled her eyes. "I can promise you, Hiro and I plan on monogamy. And honestly, I still don't know why he likes me. So I don't think you have to worry about competition."
Seamus's face burned pink and he turned to face away from her. "W-wh-what d-do y-you mean c-c-com-competition?"
"Shit!"Hermione slapped her forehead. "I'm so sorry! I thought since everyone heard that I was bi, that you wouldn't feel—it's—that was a bad joke—I'm sorry."
"It's fine," Seamus sighed. "After all those jabs about your origins, I deserve it."
Hermione smiled. "I won't tell a soul, Seamus. I'd offer to pinky promise if you weren't holding Akane."
Seamus and Hermione walked in silence, the inner forest now nearly empty of stragglers. Only Akane spoke, asking how long, to which Hermione gave her reassurances, it wasn't too far.
"I believe you," Seamus finally spoke. "To be honest, I think I feel okay if one person knows, but I'm not exactly ready to proclaim it to the world like you."
Hermione nodded. "I understand that. Honestly, I didn't plan it, I just got mad at Ron and yelled. But after a bit, it was a huge relief."
"Damn, I wish I could do that, starting to feel like I don't belong in Gryffindor."
Hermione shrugged. "You're just not ready. I go to absolute pieces at the presence of my own father. If anyone doesn't belong, it's me."
"You know," Seamus said as they gained sight of the muster station. "I always thought you were so full of yourself. Always answer questions, explaining what the remembrall was when Neville knew, speaking in other languages when you were upset at someone, thought it was to show off. You're very different."
"Th-thanks?" Hermione squeaked.
"You really don't see why Hiro likes you?" Seamus asked.
"I guess I'm just grateful he does," she sighed. "Nervous wreck, spilling my guts to someone I'm barely acquainted with, and I do think a lot of myself sometimes, and ugly to boot."
Seamus scoffed. "You're not that bad! I don't even like girls, and I can see that."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, I do like girls, so I'd know, and yes I am."
Another moment of silence passed before the two simply burst into laughter. Here they were, former classmates that barely knew each other, confiding in each other about romantic interests and coming out after a terrorist attack. Now they stood, torn clothes, Hermione on an injured foot, all with a four-year-old who didn't speak English in Seamus's arms.
"What's so funny?" Akane pouted in Japanese.
The muster station was crowded, many voices shouting, tearful reunions of families and panicked calls from parents could be heard every which way. Luckily, there weren't too many Japanese there, and Hermione could track down Akane's parents easily. Seamus and Hermione decided to head out for one last sweep when they heard an almost inhuman wail.
An old woman hunched over, wrapped in a black shawl pleaded with Auror Cromwell in Irish. Her voice warbled from her sobs and Hermione couldn't make out what the poor woman was saying, but she did speak Irish, and Cromwell switched between ignoring her, to telling her to leave him alone.
Seamus and Hermione approached the weeping woman, and Seamus took the lead in speaking with her.
"Your grandson?" he asked. "How old is he?"
"Eight," she replied, now slow enough for Hermione to understand.
"What's his name?" Hermione asked.
The woman clutched her shawl tightly around her throat with a shaking hand and started to sob again. "Diarmuid. H-h-he's—" the sobs obscured the words too much for Hermione, but Seamus nodded.
Once again the two of them took to the dense trees with only the light of their wands to guide them. With the adrenaline gone and the crowds dispersed, Hermione appreciated the immensity of the dark forest, and how truly small the two of them were. Were the masked men still out there? Could they find the little boy? Why weren't any of the aurors looking? Well, maybe they are..we didn't exactly coordinate with them. But I don't see a single adult.
"Diarmuid?" Seamus called. "We spoke to your Gran, she's very worried. We'll bring you to her."
"Seamus," Hermione hissed. "We might not want to be calling out."
"What else are we supposed to do?" Seamus gestured to the expanse of conifers. "We could be at this for days if he doesn't come to us."
Hermione bit her lip as she thought. There had to be a way to track him magically. She barely scraped an OWL in divination, but she knew vaguely about different spells. Scrying, asking 'the spirits', which felt bloody impossible, and I Ching. Though all would be hard without some token of Diarmuid's to track him. She suddenly wished she'd asked her father how they ever figured out that she and Hiro, along with the rest of their friends, were trapped in a fan-made manga. Maybe that would have held some kind of answer.
It'll have to do for now. "Accio camp map!" Hermione grabbed the map as it whizzed to her, sat on the ground, and unfolded it.
"What are you doing?" Seamus asked.
"You heard the description the grandmother gave,yeah? Try imagining him with all of the descriptions and enchant a stone saying 'invaries Diarmuid' and skip it across the map. Hopefully he'll be the only eight-year-old boy left here."
Seamus enchanted a pebble, it glowed gold and skipped it across the map, which landed by the river, before fading to an ember and burning a hole into the map where it landed.
"Let's hope he didn't move," Hermione said, stifling a squeak as she put her weight back on her foot.
"What happened there?" he asked.
"Boots and bare feet are terrible partners," Hermione sighed. "Let's find him."
"But it shouldn't have done that."
Hermione ignored him, pointing at the spot. "It looks like we're pretty close. Let's go."
They found the little boy huddled in the foliage around the river, his face etched with narrow scratches from the brambles, and leaves tangled in his chestnut hair. Massive blue eyes stared up at them, trembling in fear.
"Hi, Diarmuid," Seamus offered his hand. "I'm Seamus and this is Hermione, your gran sent us to find you."
The little boy didn't respond, still staring.
"We want to help you," Hermione offered with improvised signs in case her Irish was unintelligible.
Diarmuid didn't move, but now cried, too frightened to move, and clearly not trusting them. Hermione wished they had some way of contacting his grandmother to ensure him they just wanted to reunite him with her.
"It's okay, Diarmuid," Hermione ventured. "You're safe. Take your time. Did you have fun at the game?"
"Hermione," Seamus whispered, switching to English. "His gran said he was non-verbal."
"Sorry," she whispered.
Seamus took the lead, trying to coax the young boy out, but he showed no sign of relaxing. The two of them had no clue how long they knelt there, each trying to comfort and convince Diarmuid. Hermione hated herself for it, but she toyed with the idea of casting an immobilising spell so they could hoist him out and carry him to safety.
"Androbulla," a voice called from behind them.
Hermione and Seamus spun around to see an auror pointing her wand at the boy. They turned back to see a pink bubble form around the terrified boy, who shook and cried, slamming at the bubble around him.
"This must be the littlun you were sent after," the auror mused.
"Put him down," Seamus and Hermione pleaded.
"Looks like him, Auror Williamson," she said with a northern accent. "You kids are bloody smart finding the Hogan boy."
"Smart enough to know you're just scaring him," Hermione narrowed her eyes.
"You kids weren't coaxing the lad out any time soon, girly," she sighed. "Used to kneel for hours waiting for littluns to come out. Too old for that shit now."
You're at best in your mid-forties, bitch!
Cromwell, London, Williamson, the North…Remember these, find their names, Hermione told herself. She'd want a comment from Crouch on their conduct, his own as well.
"At least put him down," Seamus said.
"He might just run off, he doesn't understand a word of English."
"It's a good thing I speak Irish then, innit?" Seamus switched to Irish and began talking to Diarmuid.
"Alright, my lad," she sighed, gently lowering him.
The two walked behind Williamson, each holding Diarmuid's hand. Seamus spoke softly to Diarmuid while Hermione monitored each of Williamsons movements, reading into her word choice, with what little she bothered to say. She'd stick around the muster station to monitor the rest of them. The terrorist attack was clearly only half the story here.
Once Diarmuid found his grandmother among the stragglers, he ran into her arms, both fell to the ground and she wrapped him in her shawl. Both sobbed gratefully.
"Get a move on, lady," Cromwell groaned.
"Leave them be," a familiar voice said.
"Mam!" Seamus beamed as they turned to face her.
The two embraced and Dean awkwardly stepped aside, exchanging an awkward glance with Hermione as well.
"Mrs F–erm—Niamh and I decided to help look for lost kids too," Dean explained. "She kept staring at the band on my wrist, to make sure all of the threads were still moving. Mums, rig—erm—I mean—"
"It's fine, Dean," she sighed. "I'm far too tired to be offended."
"Mione-chan!" Kaori flagged her over, Anya by her side with Charlie standing with them.
"Kao-chan!" Hermione approached. "Is Hiro okay? Everyone else? I thought—"
"They're all fine," Kaori said. "Hiro was beside himself with worry, so I volunteered to wait for you and Anya here. Charlie offered to come too. Though we were worried when we found Anya and Cho, but not you."
"There was another little boy. But I think everyone's been reunited," she said, relieved. "But I want to keep an eye on the aurors. I'm not sure if they'll answer any direct questions, but if I—"
"Hiro would told me to drag you back if I had to," Kaori said.
Charlie stood by until he got sight of Hermione's foot, which was now swollen to twice its size. "I think you broke your foot."
Hermione's cheeks burned and she bowed her head. "I-I–erm–-wanted to save my magic for defensive and locating spells. Sorry. I–erm–think I can fix it."
Charlie examined it and sighed. "It looks bad. I don't know how you did it, but I can patch it for now. Once we get home, Mum's a genius when it comes to bone mending. Six boys rough-housing and all."
"Erm," Hermione lowered her gaze, suddenly feeling more like the burden she was than the journalist she wanted to be.
"Oh, Hermione," Seamus turned to her. "You should eat more rice."
Hermione's mood shifted faster than she thought possible, as she squeaked before narrowing her eyes. "I'm sorry, was that supposed to be racist or a dig at the 'found in a Chinese takeaway rubbish bin' rumour?"
Seamus rolled his eyes and scoffed. "It was supposed to be friendly advice. You broke your foot because someone stepped on it. Rice is supposed to be good for the bones."
"Oh," Hermione gulped and bowed. "Sorry."
"You're in Ireland now, Hermione," Anya whispered. "Don't need to bow when apologising."
"I-I-I–erm-I know that!"
Hermione returned with Charlie carrying her, to many eager eyes staring at the lot of them. Questions came from almost everyone, Mr Weasley trying to coax them to let the four of them get some air. Bill tried to do the same, but with seven of them demanding information proved difficult to manage.
Hiro helped Hermione back down to her feet. Whispering concerned questions.
"D-it's fine, Hiro," she said before switching to English, leaning into Hiro's chest, the fatigue now hitting her like a rock. "I-I don't know. I wanted to stick around to hear if there were any casualties—erm—but I don't kn-know."
Mr Weasley shook his head and sighed. "None of them would discuss casualties and captures while a civilian was out there. Has your father ever told you anything about the Dark Mark? You're a bit young to know what it is."
Hermione wrapped her arms around her knees. "Read enough old Prophet articles from the gist, sir. A mark magically branded into the skin of Death Eaters. It would grow more prominent if the Dark Lord wanted to summon them. An–and—It's probably not a good thing showing up during a blood-purist attack."
Mr Weasley knit his eyebrows. "We don't know that for sure. We're hoping it was a sick joke by people who don't take it seriously. But the worry is there. There was one thing you missed in the old journals. That sign… it was used to gather Death Eaters during a hit."
Hermione choked and stared at Harry. His dreams, Voldemort's presence in them, moving vessel to vessel. Could Pettigrew contact his old mates from his cell? Court holding wasn't exactly Azkaban...If a vessel or servant promised freedom, what would he do? And without Pettigrew, there were certainly other more capable, terrifying former Death Eaters that might happily receive their old master. Was the chaos all an attempt to kill Harry? No one would care if a few muggles and muggle borns died in service of that. Hermione's stomach churned and now she was the one who needed answers.
The Weasleys, already despised, protecting the target, Hiro and Kaori falling in their defence, Saiyaka and Miyuki tortured, Anya dead or recruited as a new vessel. Hermione saw it all, her friends all dead. Could she have insisted she search for more? Used that as an excuse to get the answers she needed? Demanded the truth from the aurors? Take the form of an undersized, unremarkable cat and spy on them? There was so much she could have done.
"I see you already know the gravity of the situation," Mr Weasley said. "Right, We'll all sleep in this tent. Bill, Charlie and I–oh, and Percy—will take turns on watch."
"Wait," Hermione stared up at them. "I-I can see better in the dark than you. Let me."
Mr Weasley shook his head and smiled. "I think you kids have done enough. You lot should rest now."
You've done enough. How many times has she heard that? Her father, her friends, teachers. Were they taking up space they shouldn't have? Was there somehow their attempts to help made things worse? Did that matter? The aurors were a mess, cleaning up after the damage was done. Anya was right to not to wait for the aurors. But she knew those words meant she was in the way. And blowing up at Crouch accomplished nothing. She could already hear her father reminding how fucking stupid she was.
Why is everyone else nodding and smiling?
"Thanks, Mr Weasley," Harry said.
Everyone found their way into their sleeping bags, packed into the common area in a tight circle. The adult Weasleys cast warding spells around the tent and looked to help others. Leaving the lot of them to talk without risk of adults overhearing.
"You missed it," George smirked. "Percy lost the plot!"
Fred chuckled and mimicked Percy's voice and cadence with disturbing accuracy: "I can't believe Hermione said those awful things to Mr Crouch! He's a bloody hero and she threw a tantrum like her father! For what? A house elf?"
Threw a tantrum like my father? I knew it…
"Why did you do it?" Ron asked. "I thought you wanted house elves to be free. That's what he did?"
Hermione scoffed bitterly. "He made a sacrificial lamb of a child. I bet her parents are Crouch's slaves. He separated her..left her to fend for herself. Maybe to be found and employed by someone worse? I want her to be free, I do, but to abandon her like that—"
"Abandon?" Harry now scoffed. "She'll be better off without him, Hermione."
"Wait," Ron narrowed his eyes. "Was this all because you have abandonment issues? News flash, Hermione. Whoever the hell your mum was, she was a bitch."
"We don't know that, Ron," Harry reminded him.
"Sure we do," Ron said. "What kind of person leaves a baby with someone like Snape?Or—"
"Urusai!" Hiro shouted.
The tent fell into complete silence. Hiro wasn't usually the type to shout, especially not to tell everyone to shut up. From his first letter and the time she first saw him, she knew Hiro to be gentle, perhaps mischievous, and curious, but never demanding—or hardly ever.
Hermione clasped her hands and inhaled, she mentally counted to three before addressing Ron directly. "The way Crouch treated Winky was wrong. I-I'm not changing my mind about that. But I am sorry about the way I—I—Well, Percy described it best, didn't he? I-I just hope your dad doesn't get in trouble because I'm a stupid piece of shit."
Hiro linked his pinky through hers, and placed a hand on her cheek, offering an awkward smile.
Why did I say that aloud?!
"Erm," Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. "No one thinks you're stupid."
Ask my dad, Hermione thought but said: "Ask Ron's dad, I fucked up."
"And you will again," Mr Weasley's voice said, but smiled as he cleaned his glasses.
At some point, he, Charlie, Bill, and Percy all returned to the tent.
Mr Weasley continued. "It's all a part of being young, trust me, these boys have done much worse under much better circumstances."
"Really?" Harry asked.
"Yeah!" Fred volunteered. "Charlie went to work with Dad one summer and graffitied the magical creatures' welfare department."
"Hey!" Charlie coughed. "They were allowing dragon abuse in banks!"
"I–erm–I may have continued the effort after my first gig at Gringotts," Bill chuckled.
"And don't forget everything we do!" George laughed.
"I swear, I must've been adopted," Percy scoffed.
That was unlikely. Mr Weasley and Percy stood side by side, both tall with bright, flaming hair, blue eyes framed with glasses, freckles brushed over their pale faces. Hermione didn't think she'd ever seen a more accurate likeness in her life. As if Percy were a younger clone.
I wonder if I would be my mum's–the woman who gave birth to me!-clone.
"Sorry, Perce," Mr Weasley smiled. "But you're my spitting image. I remember your mum complaining that she'd carried you for nine months only for you to turn out exactly like me."
"What?" Percy coughed.
"It's fine,Percy," Fred offered. "Doesn't matter how much like Mum we look like, we'll have her ire for the rest of our lives.'
"Might as well make more mischief then," George nodded.
"Go easy on your poor mum," Mr Weasley sighed. "Last letter we got from school, she told me to calm down before writing back."
"That's hard to imagine," Giny rolled her eyes.
"Well," Mr Weasley shrugged. "It's true. Now I think you should all get some sleep. We have an early morning tomorrow. Miyuki, will you be able to get back to your portkey alright?"
Miyuki nodded flashing a victory sign and a smile. "After everything we did tonight? It'll be a piece of–eto–eto–pastry?"
"Cake," Hermione offered.
"Kaeke?" Miyuki laughed. "It's the same in English?!"
The night passed, all of them sleeping fitfully, Hermione and Hiro linked pinkies from their adjacent sleeping bags. She saw that he often jerked, opened his eyes and smiled at her. Harry on her other side, didn't seem to sleep at all, looking around the room. She held tightly to her wand in case Voldemort invaded his dreams once more. But maybe she was happy he couldn't sleep. Hermione just didn't have the magical energy to do that again. Maybe if she dismissed the linking spell, but she was too worried. If Death Eaters did come, they couldn't risk getting separated.
She turned to her side to watch Hiro's uneasy breathing grow steadier with each rise and fall of his chest. He was safe, his warm pinky wrapped around hers. Hermione would never know how she ever found him, and knew he deserved better, but she held on tight, glad he'd settled for—well, someone like her. But she wasn't worth the risk to him, but she couldn't let him go.
Hermione turned to her side to find Harry laying as awake as she was, clutching his want and refusing to remove his glasses. She wondered if he blamed himself for Voldemort's lackeys and blood purists striking. Befriending someone like Harry brought a clear and present danger, but he didn't ask for it.
She wondered what she could do, if anything, to make things better for all of them. When no solutions came to mind, she focused on the sound of footsteps and whispered conversations between the adult Weasleys as they switched watch positions.
"We can't be sure it's not them," Charlie whispered.
"The ministry seems to think that it was simply a prank," Mr Weasley mused. "But I don't think it's a coincidence that it happened that close to Harry."
"Did the aurors catch anyone?" Charlie asked.
"A wizard Harry and Ron bound up," Mr Weasley hesitated, inhaling before a long pause. "And there was a man transformed into a worm by the rioters, but…"
"But what, Dad?"
"Well, it was Lucius Malfoy."
"Wait, why would blood purists go after him? If anything—" Charlie paused, and Hermione imagined realisation dawning. "Do you think that means that real Death Eaters crashed the World Cup?"
The Malfoys were Death Eaters? Hermione's stomach churned at the confirmation. If it was Lucius Malfoy they discovered, he was the tall masked man. If the Dark Mark appeared...Could it be true? They were certainly rich enough to buy a dismissal—and so many claimed they were under the imperius curse, making the frauds and true imperius curse victims indiscernible.
At least I'm not a murderer, Hermione thought of the possibility he'd been crushed. At least I hadn't killed him.
But what of the would-be-rapist? Did he slink away? Did he get crushed underfoot from the crowd? There was no mention of a second man. That didn't bode well. But he would never hurt anyone again if that was the case, right?
RIght, because I'm supposed to be judge, jury, and executioner? No, fuck that. Just assume he's not dead. Worms get by all the time, and maybe Malfoy or the coward would find him and change him back. This is fine. It's fine! It is fine!
Hiro's hand shifted, and Hermione was brought back out of her thoughts as his fingers wove between hers. She turned her head to see his face, his features (or what she could make of them) relaxed and calm in the face of her concern. And Hermione felt her heart beat a little slower, placing her attention back on Mr Weasley and Charlie's conversation.
"Yes, I think they might have been."
"Dad, what do we do?"
"I–" Mr Weasley hesitated. "I don't know…"