Chapter Thirty: Empty Coffers
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It had been a long time since Hermione had visited the library. Too long.
She didn't really have an excuse for it, she thought, as she ventured down the empty stone passageways. Of course they were empty. It was nearly one in the morning. It was far too late for anyone to be doing much of anything, far less visiting a library.
But she didn't want to wait another minute. She had allowed herself too many distractions already. Had trusted Severus Snape to do the job that ought to have been hers, and now the situation with Harry… she could barely stomach it.
"This is wild," Ron said, breaking the silence. "You didn't say you had to go through a wicked underground tomb to get to the library."
She glanced up, eyeing her unexpected tagalong, and their eyes met. Ron looked far too jolly. The only thing stranger than going to Ex Bibliotheca Magicae at one in the morning was that her library-averse husband had decided to join her.
"It's not a tomb, Ron," she said patiently. "It's just a corridor."
"It's underground and it glows."
"It's just the entrance to the library."
"It's wicked is what it is."
"All right, it's wicked," she agreed, because that seemed better than agreeing to the passageway being a tomb — which it wasn't — and she didn't have the energy to do a point-by-point analysis of the difference. And she smiled in spite of herself. Wretched as she felt about the entire situation, it was a bit fortifying that Ron was here, even with the over-enthusiastic play-by-play of their surroundings.
They walked together further beneath the earth, the passage sloping gently, until the double doors that marked the library loomed ahead'. Hermione stepped forward and pushed at the heavy stone, which creaked open easily at her touch.
She took a second to breathe in the atmosphere — the musky smell of thousands upon thousands of books buried beneath the earth. To glance at the stacks and shelves, stretching up, up, up to vanish into shadows. She would never not be in awe of the vast troves of knowledge that lived here.
"Welcome to the Library of Magical Archives."
The golden orb had appeared, floating before them. Its whisper was a soft breeze, rustling in her ears.
"What!" Ron stepped up beside her, sounding impressed.
"It's the Library Guide," she explained, lowering her voice slightly as she spoke. It simply didn't feel right to talk loudly in a library. "These archives are huge, and there's no catalogs. It would be impossible to find anything on your own. You'd just wander around for hours."
"Days, more like," Ron said thoughtfully, his eyes scanning the stacks that vanished into the distant darkness. "Mind, Madam Pince had nothing on this. I s'pose I'd get lost and starve to death in here."
"Of course you wouldn't. There's safeguards in place for that. Like the Guide. No one's ever gotten lost in here without meaning to."
"Who would mean to?" Ron chortled, and reached out a hand to poke at the floating orb. "So how's this work?"
"Ronald Weasley," the collective voice of the library spoke softly. "Welcome. Would you like an explanation of how the library functions?"
"Ahhhh… no thanks," Ron said, grinning. "I've got my own personal explainer right here. Brilliant, she is."
"Then how may I assist you?"
"We'll take directions to the horcrux section, please and thanks. Have you got a shortcut? Like at that mad IKEA place?"
"Ron," Hermione said, exasperated. "Be quiet."
"What?" Ron made a show of glancing around at the dark and empty hall. "There's no one here, Hermione."
"Yes, but—"
"Horcruxes," the voice spoke then, and she fell silent. There was a pause, almost as if the library was processing Ron's request, which didn't surprise her. "I am sorry, Ronald Weasley. That information is restricted. Is there anything else that I can assist you with?"
"Eh?" Ron said. "Restricted? Listen, you glowy little—"
"Oh, move over," Hermione said finally, rolling her eyes. As much as she enjoyed watching Ron interact with the library, they had wasted enough time as it was. And that was mostly on her. For trusting Snape. For not coming here sooner. How long ago had she learned that if something needed doing, there was no one she could rely on but herself? She reached forward and touched her fingers to the orb.
"Hermione Granger." Her name was an invitation. "Welcome back. How may I assist you?"
"Horcruxes," she whispered, repeating Ron's request as she spared a glance around the library once again. All appeared deserted. "How they're made. How to destroy them. Everything you have."
The orb flared, turning momentarily blue before gold light suffused it again. "Your clearance has been verified, Hermione Granger. This way, please."
The orb floated away, leading them down crooked alleys. Through stacks upon stacks of books and shelves stretching up to invisible heights. Down shadowy passageways too numerous to count. The darkness of the library seemed to grow darker, pressing against them with a quiet heaviness.
"If this is the shortcut, I don't fancy seeing the long way," Ron whispered after a bit, trailing after her down a spiral staircase that seemed to descend straight into the earth.
"There's no shortcuts," she whispered back, glancing up to meet his eyes on the steps above. "The magic is all about getting lost." Lost in a world of books. She smiled.
"So you're saying it completely ignored my request, eh?"
"Absolutely," she agreed, still smiling in spite of herself. "Sorry, you don't have the clearance."
"I s'pose no one trusts us Aurors with anything important," Ron said wisely. "They're just assuming the bad guys will torture it out of us."
"Oh, can you not? You know I hate jokes like that."
"Right, sorry. Don't worry, I don't reckon I'm on anybody's Crucio List."
"Merlin, Ron."
"All right, all right, sorry."
The orb floated to a stop at last in a distant corner of what felt like the lowest subfloor the library had to offer. There were barely any shelves or stacks of books down here, save for the small collection in front of them. The walls — earth and stone — seemed to stretch endlessly on either side. Hermione glanced around, her mind struggling to catch up. Standing here, what must be miles beneath London, she could feel the pressure of the earth around her. Weighing heavily on her mind. Almost crushing her with its heavy silence. She swallowed, and felt her ears pop.
"Everything you need is here. There is a reading nook to your right. These books may not leave this section, Hermione Granger. Please be mindful. If you require assistance, you need only ask."
The voice rustled into silence, until only the glowing light remained. She glanced at the books it illuminated. A scant collection of titles. Half a dozen tomes. She started pulling them off the shelf one by one.
"Is it just me, or does it feel like we're being crushed by a two-ton dragon?" Ron said conversationally, as Hermione handed him the first few books and turned to retrieve the rest.
"It's the pressure. We're far underground." She stepped away from the shelf, leading Ron to the reading nook. The glowing orb floated ahead of them, lighting the way. "We'll have to read fast. I'm not sure how long we should be down here. It feels awful."
"Deal," Ron said. "We'll skim these and get breakfast."
"Oh, please don't talk about food. This place is making me feel ill."
The reading nook was tiny. It was hardly even a room, more like a cupboard-sized dent chiseled into the stone and earth that made up the walls around them. Part of the stone remained, roughly hacked into something resembling a table. There was a smaller ledge beside it, and she slid across its rough surface, shifting further into the reading hole to make room for Ron.
"How come the glowing light thing let me come here with you?" Ron asked, picking up one of the books and absently flipping it open. "It said I didn't have clearance."
"It's not sentient," Hermione murmured, her attention turned to the book before her. The Dark Side of the Soul by Asbert LaRouge. She'd never heard of him. A wizard long lost to history, save for this one piece buried deep beneath London. A sort of breathless excitement seized her; the sort that always accompanied any foray into a new pool of knowledge. She worked open the cover and ran a finger down the table of contents. Soul Magic. The Depletion of the Soul. The Exploration of Murder. The Horcrux… Page 107. "It doesn't monitor what you're doing or who's here. It showed me the way because I have access. You could try to find it on your own and it wouldn't stop you, but…" She shrugged, rubbing a hand across her head, which was starting to ache. Her fingers came away damp.
But that was nothing. Nothing compared to what Harry surely felt right now.
"You'd never find it…" She finished absently, flipping to page 107, which the table of contents had said was the horcrux chapter. The page was blank though, not even a header or page number. It was definitely the right page. Page 106 was clearly labeled beside it. She frowned.
"That's the bloody truth," Ron agreed. "I doubt I could find the exit right now."
She flipped to page 108. That one was blank too.
"Hermione," Ron began beside her.
"Just a second." Page 109 was also blank. She flipped back to the beginning of the previous chapter — "The Exploration of Murder." Murder, it began, is a choice. And it is a choice one must make at the beginning. Murder does not simply happen by—
"Hermione—" Ron said again.
"I said hold on." Her voice came out harsher than she intended, but she was too distracted to apologize. She turned back to the horcrux chapter and began to flip through it, squinting at the blank pages as if she could will words into being.
"Hermione," Ron said again, sounding moderately annoyed this time. "This book's blank."
"What?"
She dropped the book she was holding and turned, staring at Ron, who offered her his book in silence. She flipped through it. Entirely blank. All of it.
"That can't be…"
She reached for another book. Then another. Beside her, Ron did the same. It didn't take long. Besides the book she had started with, none of the others contained any words whatsoever. Not even so much as a title page.
"D'you reckon it's hidden for security?"
"No, I don't think so." Surely if it was, the library would have informed her so. Which reminded her— She turned to the glowing orb floating above the table. "Ciyradil."
"See what?" Ron said.
The orb momentarily flashed brighter. "How may I assist you, Hermione Granger?"
"These books are blank." Hermione spread them out across the table, gesturing at the empty pages. "Is there an explanation?"
There was a pause. The light around the orb seemed to ripple in the silence, which grew heavier by the second. It took the library an age to respond. "There is no explanation."
Her heart sank. "Are the words hidden?" she amended, rephrasing her question. Perhaps Ron was right, and the library simply didn't understand. "Is this an additional security measure to protect the contents?"
"There are no such security measures."
"What…" Hermione turned to Ron, frowning. Her brain felt muddled, like it was struggling to catch up. It didn't make sense. How could the books be blank?
"Did someone switch them out, d'you reckon?" Ron said, lifting up the nearest one — a thick red tome with a worn leather cover — and examining it. "Mind, this looks really old…"
"The books can't leave the library," Hermione said dully. But at the same time, she felt her heart sink further. No, the books couldn't leave the library. Not physically. But the library didn't stop anyone from making notes. From copying whole sections, if they pleased. And what if someone, instead of copying, what if they…
"Fuck," she whispered. "No. Fuck."
"So they can leave the library?" Ron surmised. "Listen, maybe Snape—"
Hermione turned back to the orb. "Who was the last person to access this section?" She said, her voice unsteady. Her hands were shaking. Beside her, Ron fell silent.
The glowing orb flashed blue for a short moment that seemed to last forever, before the glow resumed its standard golden hue.
"Saul Croaker."
"Saul Croaker?!" Ron repeated, dumbfounded. He stared at Hermione, who felt the earth beneath her swirl. "Are you kidding me? What the bloody hell!"
"I'm not going to check the number today."
Ella blinked, refocusing on Hannah, who was standing in front of her, holding up the plastic hazard bag that held the yellow vial.
"We just checked it two days ago," Hannah continued, carefully opening the bag and withdrawing the methotrexate. "There won't be any significant difference. We'll recheck it next week."
"Sure," Ella agreed. Anxiety flexed somewhere in her stomach, uncurling. But it felt very distant, and she ignored it. "That's fine."
"Good," Hannah said, seemingly pleased. She tapped the vial, until the end elongated into the long, thin needle that had become so familiar. It glinted, the light reflecting off its sharp edge. "I'm glad. I imagine you think having the number constantly is helpful, but it isn't necessarily. If you're just living your life in the spaces between each blood test, then you aren't really living. It's just 'Constant Vigilance,' isn't it?"
Ella managed a weak chuckle as she stood up, turning around to give access to Hannah and her giant needle.
Constant vigilance.
That was a good one. If she wasn't already in a state of constant vigilance thanks to the newest horcrux situation, she would surely have more anxiety to spare for her visit with Hannah. Mostly, she felt numb. And like she should probably thank Moody for the life lesson.
She felt the needle pierce her skin and gritted her teeth, waiting for the residual prickling burn that often followed. It didn't disappoint her.
Hannah waved her out with an, "I'll see you next Friday," and before she quite knew how it happened, Ella found herself out in the middle of the busy street. She turned, letting her feet lead her in the direction of her destination: the Leaky.
She wasn't really sure why she had bypassed both the Floo and the Apparition Point and decided to walk. Not that she had really decided anything, but… The only real argument she could make was that she was early. And that aside, the day was perfect. It was very nearly April now, and the sun was peeking out, the light wind teasing everything it touched with the promise of spring. But mostly, it was her mind that held too much chaos to safely deliver her anywhere. Had she tried to Apparate right then and there, she would have probably splinched herself.
But honestly, how was she supposed to Apparate anywhere in one piece, or even care about her numbers, when yesterday Harry had come home — midday, no less — and told her about his new best friend: the ghastly horcrux. The chatty horcrux ghost.
"Don't worry," he'd finished, while she stared at him in utter horror. "I'm going to block him out with Occlumency until we can get rid of it."
"But you're terrible at Occlumency, Harry…" she had managed, finally unsticking her mouth. "Just seriously awful…"
So awful, in fact, that he had nearly failed that component of his training at the Academy.
"Well…." Harry had shrugged uneasily. "Now I'll be properly motivated to learn."
"Is he there right now?" she had asked then.
"No, not right now," Harry had said uncomfortably after a slight pause. She hadn't pressed him. Had simply held him with a whispered apology, and then spent half the night lying awake, wondering how on earth everything had gone so horribly fucking wrong.
And then, to top things off, Hermione had shown up in their Floo that morning. And instead of holding some horcrux book that would magically fix everything (not that Ella was actually that foolish and naive, of course, but still something positive would have been great), she had told them about Saul. Saul and the missing books from the damn library. And that… Ella didn't even know what to do with that at all. The questions it left her with…
Why would Saul have taken the books?
Was he somehow connected to Voldemort?
Was he involved with what had happened in the Department of Mysteries?! Was it an inside job?
Was he even dead at all?
She felt sick over it. Sick before she'd even walked in for her appointment. At least she was done with the third cycle now. Three down, she thought wearily. However many more to go…
It was, in fact, easier if she didn't care about her numbers. At least then she was only getting pummeled from one side. She could hardly spare the emotional bandwidth to fend off everything at once. She was already running on empty.
She glanced up at familiar surroundings, realizing that her feet had carried her to the Leaky with little input on her end. And now that she was here, she really wasn't sure how on earth she was supposed to care about the homework and her lesson plan either. What the hell was she doing, anyway? Wasting her time here. Stalling. She sighed and pushed open the door.
Siggy wasn't there yet.
Ella stepped into the dusty dimness of the pub and settled in a quiet corner, dropping her bag on the scratched surface of the table. She sat there for a bit, watching the other patrons while she waited. There were a couple witches at a table across the way, giggling to each other with shopping bags spread out by their feet. A few people sat at the bar, sparsely spread out. No one there was really talking, and the laughter of the witches sounded unnaturally loud in the otherwise quiet space. After a while, Tom came by to ask if she wanted anything and she ordered a Gillywater and a cheese sandwich. She nibbled her way through half of it, locked in a battle of wills with the unceasing nausea, but finally she abandoned her efforts and glanced up with a frown. It was thirty minutes past their meeting time, and Siggy still hadn't come.
She flicked her wand, calling forth her patronus, and sent it off with a simple, Where are you? I'm waiting at the Leaky. The dolphin darted away toward the far wall and vanished into the greater city, traversing the streets in search of her missing assistant. The giggling witches paused in their gossip to watch it go before resuming their discussion.
Ella waited a further twenty minutes after that, taking small bites of her sandwich and washing them down with her Gillywater. No Siggy. She sighed.
She couldn't do this.
She couldn't sit still and wait around and hope the girl showed up. She couldn't keep doing meaningless things when everyone else was at the Ministry, trying to come up with a viable solution. She stood abruptly, dropped some coins on the table, and stepped out into the yard. If Siggy reappeared, it wasn't as if she couldn't come straight back.
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and turned on the spot, reappearing moments later at the inbound Apparition Point in the Ministry's Hall of Entry. Thankfully, she didn't manage to splinch anything after all.
It was the first time she had been back at the Ministry since it happened. There just hadn't been a concrete reason to go, even if she could have found the time. Not with Mysteries destroyed and her work effectively halted.
Now she wondered, again, who could have been responsible for its destruction.
No, she couldn't think about that. Not Saul. How could it be Saul?
She wavered in the Atrium, eyes scanning the space. She knew, from all accounts, that it had been thoroughly damaged in the attack. The repairs had been just as thorough though, for she could see nothing amiss. The floor was impeccable. The windows of the offices that overlooked the hall gleamed in their wholeness. And people jostled past, in as much of a rush as ever.
The only noticeable difference she saw was the fountain that overlooked the room. She approached it, her eyes trailing across the stone figures that stood within the sparkling pool of water. The witch, wizard, house elf, goblin, and centaur were still there. But the way they stood around each other had shifted. No more weird adoring looks or poses of deference They stood beside each other now, looking out over the hall, as if poised to protect it, should another disaster strike. There were other shapes behind them, facing away from her, and she circled the fountain slowly until she came face to face with a thestral, a phoenix, and a dragon.
"Hermione, I suppose…" Ella muttered, studying their stone eyes. She couldn't imagine who else could manage to install a thestral in the Ministry atrium.
The lifts stood against the far wall, beyond the dragon and the thestral. She contemplated them for a bit. She could hop in a lift right now. Take it up to level two. Find Harry… and Ron and Daniyel… and what?
Hold Harry's hand while he tried to master Occlumency? Storm in there, claiming Saul had been acting suspicious? Harry had already said they'd need to tread carefully. So what exactly was she hoping to accomplish?
One of the lifts opened as she watched, several people spilling out of it. The small crowd that had been waiting began filing inside. Ella turned abruptly and headed to the staircase on the opposite end of the atrium.
If she wanted answers about Saul, there was only one place she could go.