a/n: Thanks to everyone still reading! Many thanks to poka for taking the time to review.

Prompt 31: Don't go soft on me now.
Prompt 30: On the contrary, I couldn't care less.
Prompt 32: You look like you went three rounds with a skrewt.
Prompt 14: So you're saying there's nothing you can do?

Chapter 9

Smoke filled the grove. Ron's eyes stung as he forced them to stay open, looking for an active threat. He lost track of Harry. The last he saw, the death eaters were hauling him up. The elves were dug in under the hollowed out tree. It was a safe position. The aurors were doing their best, but they were pinned down. As far as Ron could see, he was the only one on the other side of the line. He didn't think the aurors knew that and he hoped the death eaters didn't know either. He just wanted to get Harry to safety and then sort out the mess once that was done.

Carefully lifting his head to look out over the root that was concealing him, Ron held his breath to keep his vision steady. A flash of silver. "Expelliarmus," he said, a wand went flying. The death eater grasped at the air trying to catch their wand. Wherever it landed, it was going to take time to recover. It might not be completely clear inside the tunnel, but it might be his only shot. Jumping over the root, Ron stayed low and inside the heaviest smoked filled areas. He confounded the death eater on their knees searching for their wand.

Harry was slumped over and propped up against the side of the tunnel just a few feet inside the threshold. A few steps in, Ron hooked his arm around Harry's and pulled.

"Hey!" a voice called out.

Ron reflexively put up a shield in the general direction. An explosion of lights and bangs left his ears ringing and his eyes watering. The only thing he could do was keep pulling Harry from the tunnel. He wasn't going to get a second chance. Harry wasn't moving. Ron couldn't think about it. He wasn't dead.

"Stop him!" the death eater without their wand cried out.

Ron saw several dark forms moving toward him. This was it. He was either going to get out alive or go out in a blaze of glory. Spraying a steady stream of fire out in front of him, he barely felt the weight of Harry in his free hand. The heat from his spell made his clothes stick to him with sweat. The attackers were forced to jump backward, putting them out in the open. Ron couldn't believe it. He thought he was done. Clear of the tunnel, he was stopped short by a tall, looming figure with a long staff pointed at his chest. There was time to swing his wand around to defend himself. Squeezing his eyes shut he could only hope it wasn't a killing blow.

Lightning erupted from the sky. The intensity of the flashes made Ron see red behind his eyelids. But no pain ever came. People were running and shouting. He opened his eyes to see the attackers retreat into the tunnels. The lightning didn't stop. Ron dragged Harry to some cover and looked around to find out if it was a spell or a actual storm that stopped the fight. A chest pounding strike lit up the cliff. A man was standing there, in the center of the charges. Maybe one of the aurors got the high ground. It gave Ron a chance to check on Harry.

His friend was breathing. He let out a groan. "Harry. Come on mate," Ron pleaded. He could feel himself losing his control of his emotions. Swiping at his eyes with his sleeves, needed a healer.

"Mister Weasley. Don't go soft on me now," a voice said above him.

"I'm not going soft, professor," Ron answered and then did a double take. It was Dumbledore. Floating down from the cliff face. Except it wasn't their old headmaster. He was much younger, fit. And alive. "Bloody hell."

~~/~~

Harry's sense of smell returned to him first. Was he camping? The smell of smoke was intense. Turning his head away he realized quickly there was no escaping it.

"Harry?"

Ron was with him? Ron hated camping. He swore off tents forever after their year on the run.

"Harry, you're going to want to wake up. You're never going to believe this," Ron pushed on with more urgency.

Slowly he opened his eyes. His head hurt. A pain in his shoulder shot up around his neck. The death eaters. Hermione! Pushing himself up, he tried to make sense of where he was. "Hermione. We need to help Hermione," he said, reaching out for Ron.

"Susan is with her. We'll go. You're hurt. You need to get checked out first," Ron was explaining.

None of it made any sense. Clearly he'd missed something. Several things.

Williamson appeared through the smoke. Some pieces started to click into place. "Headmaster?" the head auror started.

"Yes?"

Harry's head whipped around to find out who answered for him. He rubbed his eyes, concerned he was having a stroke or brain damage. "Ron…" Harry started slowly. His friend was looking up at the wizard and back down at Harry. "You see that too?"

"Yay," Ron let out in a long breath.

"Who are you?" Williamson demanded his wand up, not recognizing Dumbledore.

Harry didn't blame him. It wasn't everyday a man came back from the dead. Bracing himself on the tree, he pushed himself up. "Professor Dumbledore," he answered Williamson's question.

"That's not possible," Williamson said, not bothering to lower his wand. "Someone explain to me what's going on."

"I can't explain this," Harry said, motioning to the resurrected wizard and then to the tunnel under the oak tree. He didn't want to take the time to admit he was keeping information from the auror. "I can explain that. But I need to get to Hermione. I was with her when we were attacked by death eaters. That tunnel system leads out to a cave."

"We're clearing it out."

Nodding his head, Harry searched his pocket for his wand and came up empty. "My wand. They left it at Hermione's. We're going to have to walk out of here," he said, hating the time that would waste. "Or find some thestrals."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I can help with that," he said, lifting up an ornate staff.

"You're not going anywhere until you convince me you were part of this," Williamson objected.

"He wasn't with the death eaters. I don't know how… where he came from, but it wasn't with us," Harry vouched for Dumbledore to speed up his reunion with Hermione. The truth was, he had a sinking feeling he knew how the former headmaster wasn't dead. And he had a suspicion of where he'd been.

The auror threw up his hands. "I need a full report. Check on the assistant director and then I want all of you to meet me at the ministry. I need to know why the death eaters want to get inside this secret treaty zone."

Ron had the self awareness to look guilty. Harry didn't care. Secrets had only ever meant pain and suffering to the people he cared about. The elves had some civil war brewing. They lost any sense of responsibility he had left to keep their secret. And Albus… Harry didn't even know where to start. If he could get him to Hermione quickly, he'd use him.

"We'll come," Harry promised. "I'll tell you everything. Everything I know."

When the auror didn't protest, Harry lead the way out of the grove. He wasn't going to wait around for him to change his mind. His steps were powered by shear will. Fighting pangs and dizziness, he refused to let his injuries stop him.

"Harry. You really need to see a healer," Ron said form behind, trying to catch up.

"Susan will check me over." They crossed over the protections of the grove and Harry turned. "Can you take us from here?"

Dumbledore looked around at the forest. "I believe so."

"Great, let's go." The terse words were meant to warn Dumbledore off from acting like they were about to have some sort of heartfelt reunion.

"Harry. I know how this looks. I will explain everything. I know you're upset, but I can explain," Dumbledore said.

Shaking his head, Harry didn't want to hear it. He wasn't upset. He was numb. "On the contrary, I couldn't care less. Just take me to Hermione's. Can I lead you there or do you need to know the location?"

Dumbledore placed the staff in the center of the trio. "Take hold of the staff, and think about your destination. I'll do the rest."

Wordlessly, he placed his hand on the staff and waited for Ron to follow. Then he nodded he was ready and the forest shrunk before his eyes. It looked like a spec in the middle of a black void. He kept his thoughts on Hermione and her flat, hoping his mind was remembering the address correctly. He'd been so drunk when she brought him through the floo. The speck started to grow and in another blink he was standing in the flat again.

"Oh thank god, Ron. I was so worried," Susan said, standing and rushing over to give him a hug.

Harry pushed past her to sit in the chair she vacated. Hermione was so still. He took her hand. It was cold. "How is she?"

"I don't know," Susan admitted. "I was thinking about requesting mediwizards to take her to Saint Mungo's right before you appeared. I've done everything I can. I wasn't sure if it was safe though."

"Hermione," Harry whispered. Her hand twitched in his but her eyes didn't open. He swallowed hard. "It's safe. Call them."

~~/~~

Ron thought he might be the only one in the flat to think the real danger was the looming showdown between Harry and Dumbledore. Still, he was as convinced as Harry seemed to be that the death eaters and rogue elves weren't a continuing threat. It was likely safe enough to get Hermione the healing help she needed. Ron cleared the way for Susan to reach inside her medical bag for her floo powder. They'd used the emergency signal one time in their home when Atticus was sick with Black Cat Flu. He couldn't breath, and with one flick of the powder in their fireplace help arrived.

When she turned sound, jar in hand, Susan suddenly realized there was a fifth person in the flat. And then she realized who it was.

For his part, Dumbledore steadied her arm to make sure she didn't spill the dust. "My apologies," he said, responding to her shock.

"No. That was my fault.. Professor," she admitted and shared a look with Ron.

Doing his best to reassure his wife, he nodded, confirming he was real. She accepted his unspoken promise to explain later.

The floo powder lit up the hearth, a brilliant display of red flames opened the connection directly to Saint Mungo's. A mediwizard and a mediwitch stepped out in seconds. Susan took charge and gave the emergency healers a run down of the patient's condition. Ron listened and grew even more concerned. Unresponsive. Fever. Tachycardia. Altered mental state. She handed over the vial of quills and did her best to explain the situation without providing details of the attack.

Harry moved out of the way to give them access, but didn't go far. Susan finally led him away, finally getting a good look at him. "You look like you went three rounds with a skrewt," she said, running her wand over him. "Harry. You have a serious concussion. And your shoulder is dislocated."

Ron wasn't surprised by the diagnosis. He could tell it wasn't in a proper position. And Harry had been too focused on Hermione to let the pain sink in.

"Can one of you reduce—" Susan started.

Harry stopped her. "You do it. She needs them."

"No. No. You don't want me to do that. I haven't healed injuries like yours since training."

"I trust you. It's just a shoulder. Can't mess it up," he said with as much bravado as he could muster.

Ron stepped toward Dumbledore. There wasn't much for either of them to do until the healers were satisfied their patients were stable. "She's being modest. She's an excellent healer," Ron said with pride. "I offered to stay home with the kids so she wouldn't have to give up her career, but she knew how important the joke shop was to me after Fred… you know… well, I guess you don't know."

Albus squinted his eyes as he tried to decipher Ron's rambling. It didn't take more than a few seconds for a look of sadness once he worked out the unspoken explanation. "I'm sorry, Mister Weasley. I always appreciated how your brothers kept Mister Filch on his toes."

"It took a while to convince my parents we could make a living off those skills. They came around when they saw how useful the joke products were during the war," Ron said, realizing he was saying more things that would make little sense to the former headmaster. "I owe you one, by the way," he changed the subject and took out the deluminator. "I'm not sure how you knew I'd need this, but it's come in handy more than once. It's the reason I got to Hermione after she was attacked."

Albus looked at the device with curiosity. "Is that right? I found it useful a time or two myself. I knew you'd take care of it."

The conversation came to an abrupt end when Harry let out a cry of pain. Ron stepped toward his friend, wishing he could do something to help. Anyone.

The mediwizard closest to Susan passed her a potion bottle. "For the pain."

She helped Harry take the dose and then transfigured a nearby towel into a sling. Once his arm was immobilized, she gave him space.

The healers were loading Hermione up on a stretcher. Ron's concern for her deepened. "She's really pale," he whispered to his wife.

"Those quills did a number on her. She's been made to relive Bellatrix's interrogation, thinking Harry was dead at the school, and not being there for Harry when Sirius was killed. Those are just some of the things I could make out."

It sounded horrible. He rubbed her back as his heart swelled in gratitude for her efforts. "Thanks for taking care of her."

The healers levitated the stretcher toward the floo. "We'll take her to creature-induced injuries."

Harry stood. "We should contact the ICW," he said to Ron and he moved with the healers.

"I'll take care of it. Go with her. We'll meet you there."

The healers disappeared in the red flames. Harry paused and turned toward Dumbledore. "You should come with me. Williamson will want us together if he comes looking."

"I think that's a good idea," he agreed and followed right behind Harry through the flames.

Once they were alone, Susan looked at her husband. "Ron."

"I know. It's mental," he agreed.

"Blood hell," Susan whispered.

Ron laughed. The action seemed to release some of tension that had been building since he found Hermione. "That's what I said."

~~/~~

Harry let the healer poke and prod while he waited impatiently to see Hermione. He was glad the waiting room was empty. It had been easy to convince the healer to just check him over there. He had no intention of being admitted to the hospital and he wanted to see the moment Hermione was assigned a room number. Sitting in the uncomfortable plastic chairs, Harry's anger and frustration toward Dumbledore grew. The wizard was sitting calmly in his chair in the corner, and he had the audacity to look comfortable.

Finally the healer handed over a pain relieving potion to be used once the one that was currently managing his symptoms wore off and then they left. He avoided eye contact with Dumbledore.

"Do you want to tell me what happened to Hermione?" Dumbledore finally broke the silence.

"Not particularly. Do you want to tell me how you're not dead?" he shot back.

"I suspect you already know. But maybe the how will be less obvious."

Harry let out a long sigh and adjusted his sling. He was going to have to find out eventually. He didn't want to have a sensitive conversation about horcruxes in such a public place. Especially not if Dumbledore was going to talk in riddles. "We can't talk about this here," he warned, and then redirected the conversation. "The elves were hiding you this whole time?"

"I went there. After…well after the thing we're not talking about. We probably shouldn't talk here about why it was important for me to go there either."

"You're going to have to tell Williamson something," Harry said dryly. Activity behind the admin station got his attention and he stood. The healer taking care of Hermione was updating a chart. "Hopefully you used the last fifteen years to get your story straight." He was moving toward the healers when a commotion near the entrance forced him to stop.

Three official looking people stepped into the waiting room. He understood immediately that they were ICW officials. Reflexively he reached for his wand, and came up empty. He was so concerned at Hermione's flat it never crossed his mind to find his wand. By the time he looked back up, he saw all eyes were on his wand hand. That was stupid and he knew it. Tensions were high all around.

"Mister Potter? I'm Melanie Cooper. I understand you've had an exciting morning," a female agent started.

Harry looked around. He hadn't seen the outside for a while, but it made sense it was finally morning. From the longest night. "Exciting isn't the word I would use. Ron contacted you?"

She nodded. "His wife explained the assistant director's injuries. We're coordinating with the aurors office to get a full briefing on the suspects who attacked you both. Until they're apprehended, we'll be in charge of Director Granger's security."

Grimacing, he looked toward the patient board that now had a room number after Hermione's name. The healer he wanted to talk to was gone. "She's going to hate that."

"We're not unfamiliar with reluctant protectees. We can negotiate the terms with her when she's well enough to defend herself."

It was fair enough. And Harry didn't hate her having extra security. "It looks like she's been moved to a room. I was just about to see if she can have visitors."

Melanie motioned for him to take the lead and the agents fell in behind him. It felt excessive, but he was certain they wouldn't turn him away with the ICW at his back. Finally a reason to be grateful for bureaucracy. "Hey. Can I get an update on Hermione? Can I see her?"

The stern witch looked like she was about to challenge Harry when she saw the ICW force behind him.

"She needs protection," he continued, emphasizing the agents.

"Down the hall, last door on right," she said. "The director of the department is with her and she can update you on Miss Granger's condition."

Condition. Harry swallowed. She had a condition. That didn't sound good. He walked as quickly as he could. He didn't bother to see if Dumbledore was following him. Knocking softly on the door, his stomach flipped. He was transported back to being stuck in Dumbledore's office after Sirius died, unable to leave to check on Hermione. Terrified she had also died. If a quill stuck him, that memory would absolutely haunt him. He was sure. Pushing the door forward, the lights in the room were dim. Hermione was motionless on the bed, the healer hovering near her. Two of the ICW agents posted themselves outside the room. Melanie entered. There was no sign of Dumbledore. "Director…" Harry started, not sure how to address the healer.

The middle aged witch turned and gave him a small smile. "Orla. Call me, Orla," she said, stepping to the side to give him room. Her eyebrows went up when she saw the agent.

Harry half turned toward Melanie, "The ICW needs to secure her room. Until the people who did this are caught," he explained.

"Hm. I'd like to talk to them. We haven't seen this poison in centuries. For it to be so potent, the quills would have had to come from a living creature. One we thought was extinct," she explained, holding up the small vial Susan provided.

"It's not the last thing that we thought was dead that isn't," Harry mumbled. "I know where they likely came from. I'll go get you a land fish if that would help."

"It wouldn't hurt. Especially if we need to be concerned that others will be exposed. We have no antiserum."

He'd bring the healer every last creature if it would help Hermione. "So you're saying there's nothing you can do? You can't help her."

"No, no. She'll be fine. Her vitals have already improved since arriving. Healer Weasley did everything right. Removing the quills as soon as she did limited the exposure. Unfortunately though, we have to let the poison run its course now."

Harry moved closer to Hermione, and sat down on the edge of her bed, taking her hand in his. He couldn't lose her. If he learned anything in the past few days, it was how much he needed her in his life.