Hermione Granger: The Edge of the Storm

Bartholomus Bilge, Levitator Extraordinaire, had once levitated, simultaneously, fifteen elephants, twenty-seven goblin-forged swords, three whirling dervishes, and his pet goldfish, Carrot. Carrot, it was agreed, had been his undoing, and the entire assembly had come crashing down, amid a great clattering and clanging and trumpeting. An important lesson that one thinks one is doing well until one adds a final, tiny, wriggling thing—

-Ill-Advised Spells of Famous Witches and Wizards, by Yemini Brookshaw

xx

Hermione Granger

If apparating was like being squeezed through a narrow tube, then what Hermione experienced was akin to a pea shot through a tube and bouncing off the back of someone's head. She tried apparating to the base from Knockturn Alley, only to feel a full-body impact, a bounce, and another impact as she landed on the other side of Godric's Hollow. She tried again and splashed down in the nearby river. As she cast a drying charm on herself along the muddy bank, realization crept up and bit her. Anti-apparation barrier. She stopped trying to get into the base and focused on the hilltop at the edge of the forest, apparating there easily.

She crested the hill, her heart pounding. If she couldn't apparate in, then the other resistance members couldn't apparate out. They were trapped.

Dumbledore's old house was at the edge of Godric's Hollow. It was a quaint Tudor house, limewashed in yellow and pink. Small for the resistance in its prime, and not remote enough, so they'd usually avoided it. But as the war dragged on and wizarding families fled, the Hollow had emptied, and the house had entered regular rotation when they switched bases. It had been a comfortable retreat where they could read from the library in front of a crackling fireplace or sing along to Remus's half-remembered piano tunes.

Now, however, it looked like a ship in a storm. The Dark Army swarmed the sky in a black cloud, roving over the house. Their curses flashed like lightning. Occasionally, a spell would shoot out from the house. Her friends were still in there.

She searched the tree line, hoping to see some resistance members who'd gotten out, but there was no one. They could still make a run for it, if they had something to conceal themselves from the forces above. Something like an invisibility cloak. She cursed herself for losing the cloak to Malfoy, and for waiting too long to get back to the base.

The house glowed where it had been struck, the wards they'd carefully prepared holding back the attacks for now. Light Metrics in Protective Spells by Sashanna Fetteltum, optional reading in her fourth-year arithmency class, had shown how the intensity and duration of residual glow can indicate the remaining strength of protective spells. She cast spectrometus, and calculated that they had less than thirty minutes before the wards fell. And there was one other way in.

She raced to an old stone well, grabbing floo powder out of the bucket attached by a frayed rope to the rotted wood cover. Floos, it turned out, didn't have to be floos. Any stone or brick structure could be connected to another if the proper spells were cast. Old ruins, fountains, and even a large planter had become emergency exits. She threw the powder into the darkness at the bottom, said, "Base Vermillion," and jumped into the well.

If trying to apparate inside an anti-apparation barrier was like bouncing off something soft and spongy, what she experienced in the floo was more like being flattened by a boulder. She found herself on her back in the dark, gasping.

She tightened her grip on her wand and whispered, "lumos."

The soot-stained russet brick of Dumbledore's first-floor fireplace surrounded her. A collapsed section of a wall, still wrapped in gold and green striped wallpaper, blocked the opening. The floor vibrated, then quieted, then vibrated again. Muffled, low-resonance crashes from the other side made her jaw ache.

Pointing her wand at a large shard of plaster, she used the levitation spell, and it shifted upwards, nearly hitting her in the face. It was too large to move around her in the small space. And as soon as she moved it, the debris settled again, wooden framing piling on from above and white dust flying everywhere. She set it back down in front of the new pile, penning herself in even further.

Diffindo caused a promising cracking sound, but otherwise did nothing. She tried vanishing the shard, but it remained stubbornly present. Pressing her palm against the warm brick enclosure, she tried to find the magic of the house. She felt it sometimes: an old, thrumming magic. It felt friendly most days, although there was something old and dangerous in it, too. But whenever she tried to reach it, it slid away from her, and now was no different. Prodding gently at the pile, she found a spot thinner than the rest and stuck her head in as far as she dared. "Ron? Remus?"

A muffled voice responded from the other side. "Ron's busy fighting. Professor Lupin is busy being useless. I'm stuck moving plaster instead of fighting because you still don't trust me."

Hermione repressed a sigh. "Hello, Millicent."

"Hermione. I must be getting to know you better. I can tell you're almost as annoyed as me."

Millicent Bulstrode had shown up one day months ago, filling the doorway of their supposedly secret base with her arms crossed. "I'm joining your group." She'd raised a fist. "Let me in or else."

They'd threatened her and interrogated her. She refused to give her reasons, although—after extracting some promises—she had demonstrated the detection spell she'd used to find them, and how to adjust their own anti-detection spells accordingly. They'd kept her at a distance, ready for a betrayal. She'd stared sullenly back at them and did the work she'd been ordered to do.

"I'm not annoyed," Hermione told her.

"You are. You have that tone whenever you talk to me. And sometimes to Ron, when he's being a knob."

Hermione pressed her forehead against a fragment of the wall and tried not to think about that time at school when Millicent put her in a headlock.

"I'm not annoyed at you," she clarified. This debris won't vanish."

"Then you're annoyed at Dumbledore. You said he created the wards on his house."

"Some of them, I think. They prevent the walls from being vanished? Or split?"

"They can still be shattered. A curse got through. Had a cave-in that fell here. I'm clearing it, because the others are maintaining the wards."

Hermione nodded. "That's why no one's used the floo to escape?"

There was a momentary silence. "Did you hit your head? Your questions aren't usually this stupid."

She hadn't, but considered thunking her head against the wall. "I'm fine. Just thinking out loud." At least she couldn't see Millicent's dead-eyed stare. "I'll work on this end."

There wasn't much she could do other than move a few small pieces, but it felt better to be doing something. Scraping and crumbling sounded faintly from the other side, gradually growing louder.

The debris shuddered, and a hole emerged at the top. "There," Millicent said. "You're scrawny enough to fit through."

Hermione found leverage on a jutting plank and cast two spells before the iron grill finally bent enough to create an opening. She pulled herself halfway through and blinked at the onslaught of light. "I'm not scrawn—eeep!"

A firm hand grabbed her arm and yanked her all the way through, dumping her on the floor. "See? Scrawny. I've had cats that weighed more."

Millicent stood with an open purple umbrella cocked on her shoulder.

Unpleasant memories of Millicent's cat were scattered by the sight. She blinked at the wood ribbing and periwinkle underside. "Why the umbrella?" she finally asked.

"Found it in a closet. All sorts of charmed objects here if you look. This is impenetrable against rocks and knives and such. And it muffles sound. Otherwise, you'd hear…" She closed the umbrella, and a cacophony blasted from all sides.

Stomping feet and crashing furniture pounded from above. Smoke filled the air. Someone screamed, but she couldn't tell from what direction. She tried to perform a spell to clear the air, but her coughing stopped her. Wrapping her scarf around her mouth, she leaned close to Millicent. "Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?"

"We're being attacked. Again. I figured you knew what that was like." She brandished her wand and a chunk of wall careened to the side. "Now get out of the way. I'd like to escape before we're all captured or dead."

"We won't die," she said automatically, her morale-boosting response to predictions of doom. But Millicent's words chilled her. She ran down the hallway, searching for anyone trapped by falling debris. A plaid sofa was flattened, covered in sunflower-shaped ceiling tiles and an overstuffed mattress from the bedroom above. The sofa, charmed to move to the warmest spot in the room, struggled weakly, its stubby legs wiggling.

"Sirius!" she called. "Molly! Where are you?" She heard someone shout from the kitchen and hurried ahead.

The smell of burning coal filled the air. Ron leaned against the kitchen wall, arm up to shield himself from the damaged stove, which was spurting flames from the oven racks. He stabbed the air with his wand, and a jet of water gushed forth. The fire hissed and smoked. He sputtered and waved the smoke away. His eyes widened when he spotted Hermione. Rushing forwards, he pulled her into an embrace.

His scent and warmth were comforting and familiar, and she knew that if she stayed there, he would hold her for as long as she needed. But such a simple act would make things complicated later, and neither of them could afford the precious seconds ticking away. Disengaging, she shook her head, took a steadying breath, and found her commanding voice. "I saw your message. Status?"

Ron looked stung and bewildered for a moment before he nodded, the tense lines of his face smoothing. For all their personal problems, Ron was a good soldier and thrived when someone took the lead. "Mum and my brothers were out on a supply run when we were attacked. I sent a patronus, but I'm not sure they got it."

"I don't know if they could help, anyway. The anti-apparation barrier would keep them too far away from the base to attack from the outside. And inside… Best to get out."

A boom sounded overhead and the house shuddered.

Ron nodded grimly. "Sirius is upstairs, keeping a defense against any curse that breaks through." He gestured to the surrounding disaster. "But he's only one person. Neville and Oliver are maintaining the wards until we can escape. Millicent—"

"I spoke with Millicent. She said something about Professor Lupin being stupid?"

"Sounds like her. But in this case, she's right." He kicked away the broken remains of a kitchen table, revealing a door to the cellar set in the floor.

Hermione let out a long breath. "Has Sirius tried?"

"He tried yelling at him from the kitchen, but…" Ron spread his hands in a helpless half-shrug. "It's a windowless cellar. He couldn't bring himself to go down there."

She opened the tiny door, revealing an inky square and the beginning of a ladder. "Maybe if we widened the entrance so it felt more open—"

Another crash from upstairs. Plaster rained down.

"Right." She cast lumos again and clenched the wand in her teeth, grabbing the ladder with both hands. As soon as she stepped off the final rung, she heard the rattle of chains. "Rrr in ooo unopp im?"

Ron followed, sliding down the sides of the ladder fireman-style. "What?"

She took her wand from her teeth. "Why didn't you unlock him?"

"He charmed the chains to resist alohamora." He held up his hands before she could speak. "And he took my key."

The cobwebbed rafters hung low, and they had to stoop as they moved away from the overhead opening. Thick loamy scents permeated the smothering darkness. From a corner, iron clanked against iron. Hermione pointed her wand in that direction. A thin man sat with his back to the stone wall, hands and feet bound in chains. His shoulders drooped as she approached. "It's not safe."

"We're not leaving without you. You have…" Hermione realized she'd lost track of time while digging her way out.

"Less than thirty minutes. To find a place with secure walls, a door that locks, chains…" He lifted the chain attached to his arm. "I can't risk it."

"Do you know what the Death Eaters will do to you? Even if they take you prisoner. Even if they don't—" Her voice wobbled, and she stopped, blinking hard.

Remus smiled weakly. "That may be, but even so—"

Hermione moved quickly. "Accio key!"

The key flew from Remus's hand to Hermione's, the weight of it landing heavily in her palm.

He stared at her, wide-eyed, for a moment, and then he stood, chains rattling, muscles knotting. "Don't you dare," he said, baring his teeth. "You've no right." His voice scraped like stones against pavement.

There was something inhuman in his voice, a hint of an animal growl that made the back of her neck grow cold and damp. She suspected he was doing it deliberately, to show her who he thought he was. But she took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "You have no right. We need you. The resistance needs you. You're not a liability, and you're not a monster. Stop growling at me like I'm a little girl you can chase away."

He turned his face away, and the tendons stood out in his neck. "You've seen me. You know what I might do. Will do, if I get free."

She shook her head. "Sometimes you act like… that's all that you are. Those three nights of the month. Don't you understand that you're so much more than that?"

He sighed. "Of course. I have lived a life, Hermione. Many years before you were even born, in fact. I've learned who I can be outside of those three nights. But I also know to never take chances when the time comes. And if I'm captured…"

"What? We're better off with you gone?" Something flashed in his face, and she knew she'd hit on something. She gestured at the cellar walls around them. "You do this. You hide in dark corners. Even when you're there, you're not there. Always quiet, always in the background. Thinking that if you disappear, the werewolf will, too." She cocked her head, taking in his light brown suit. "You even dress to blend in with the wallpaper."

He shifted, the chains clinking with him. "I'm here. I've done what I can."

"You have. You welcomed Millicent before anyone else, taking her under your wing, as much as she'd allow."

Ron nodded. "And after Fred and George. You'd talk about your favorite memories of them. It helped. More than you know."

It was true. He brought a warmth and quiet courage that the group so desperately needed, especially now. Something they'd been missing since Harry. Remus might not think his life was worth protecting, but she did.

"We're not leaving without you. So, either get going, or we make our last stand whilst you huddle down here in the dark."

Remus stared at the hard-packed dirt floor, his brows knotted. "You said the Shrieking Shack is still standing in Hogsmeade? I kept chains there—"

She let out her breath. "You can help Millicent clear the floo." She gave the key to Ron and held her lighted wand above them both as he unlocked Remus.

Remus flinched when the chains clinked to the floor. "And Sirius. His dog form. It… calms me."

"I'll get him." She couldn't hear what was going on upstairs from the cellar. Sirius couldn't hold off the Dark Army forever.

When they emerged from the cellar, the door from the kitchen to the dining room had fallen, the frame cracked. The house shuddered, and a thunderous crash reverberated, leaving her with ringing ears.

Millicent stood next to a pile twice as large as the one Hermione had climbed out of. Her frown was even deeper than usual as she held the impervious umbrella over her head. The only part of the floor clear of debris was a small circle directly beneath her and the umbrella. Above, the ceiling was almost entirely gone, showing the rooms and hallway above.

Hermione's hand flew to her throat. "Millicent, are you okay?"

Millicent dropped the umbrella, letting it roll jerkily away. Her face pinked. "The house fell on me. The house fell on me! And now I'm stuck here and I'm going to be cursed or killed, and the only thing I can think is that I wish I'd eaten rotten clams for lunch so I could at least give Lupin indigestion if he eats me!" She took a deep breath and let it out. "No offense, Professor."

Hermione risked a glance at Remus, wondering if this would send him into another spiral.

But he was focused on Millicent. "None taken, Miss Bulstrode," Lupin said cordially. He gave her a kind smile. "Let's start clearing again, shall we? I'll take this side, and you take the other."

Millicent stood there, fists clenched, until Remus gave her an encouraging pat on the back. Then she nodded and began levitating debris again. Hermione remembered what a good professor he'd been. They hadn't known everything about him back then, but he'd been at his best when he had someone else who needed guidance. She'd have to remember that in the future.

The stairs to the next floor had lost part of the railing and a large middle section was missing. "The planks?" Hermione said to Ron, pointing to the ground floor. He understood immediately and summoned loose planks of wood from the debris. She levitated them into the chasm between the steps. "Epoximise." The planks bonded to the remaining framework and gave them rough steps.

Upstairs, the windows glimmered with an ever-changing light as the wards outside faltered. Sirius stood in a bedroom with an ornate canopy bed, leaning out of an open casement window, taking shots with each stuttering flicker. His dark hair had turned a mottled grey from the ash and dust and his face was wild with glee as he cast a flurry of curses and counter-curses. "Come on, you bastards," he shouted into the wind.

His gaze darted to them, his eyebrows raised hopefully. "Moony?"

"Unchained," she confirmed. "Helping to clear the floo."

"Good." A Death Eater flew through a weakened spot in the wards, and Sirius fired off another shot, sending him crashing to the ground. "I hate it when his condition gets him all bloody-minded." He stopped and looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them slowly. "I tried to talk to him, but…"

She stepped close and took one of his hands, giving it a squeeze. "Don't fret. It's done."

Ron, who'd found their emergency medical and potions supplies in a cabinet, was packing everything into duffel bags. He glanced out the window. "How long do you wager we have with the wards?"

Sirius studied the sky. "Not long."

"Then you've done enough, mate. Time to go." Ron shoved the bags into their hands.

"The old well is outside the anti-apparation barrier," Hermione said. "Cast a notice-me-not charm until you get your bearings." She glanced at Sirius. "We're going to our old spot at the Hog's Head Inn. But if you could apparate with Remus directly to the Shrieking Shack?"

"Of course." Two soldiers of the Dark Army were working their way through a crack in the wards, and he cast a freezing charm that made them drop like two stones. "Five more minutes."

She wanted to argue, but knew that would take even longer. Five minutes for Sirius, and how many minutes left for Remus? She patted her clothes, searching for an old pocket watch.

Sirius smiled and unbuckled his black leather wristwatch, tossing it to her. "You need it more than me, Captain. Keep track of how long you've been worrying about us."

She looked down at the dial showing a clear night sky and then looked up into his eyes. It was like she was seeing the man he was supposed to be, the one who could take on the Dark Army without fear. "Five minutes," she repeated.

When Hermione and Ron descended to the ground floor again, Millicent and Remus had cleared the floo.

"Good work," Hermione said. "Let's get out of here."

"Out to where, exactly?" Millicent asked.

Hermione transfigured a strap for one of the duffel bags and shouldered it. "Remus mentioned the Shrieking Shack—"

"Too predictable," Millicent said. "Students and a former professor, looking for shelter—"

Hermione shook her head. "We don't have time to shop. And we haven't used it as a base since—"

A loud crack echoed overhead, and the house darkened. The frail light of the wards was gone. A victory shout went up from the soldiers flying outside.

On instinct, Hermione grabbed Millicent's umbrella and held it out in front of her. "Engorgio!" The umbrella expanded until the tips of the ribs scraped the floor and were halfway to the ceiling. Ron and Millicent helped her get it upright over all of them, just before the world went grey. A tidal wave of dust rolled over and around them. No sounds got through, other than the harsh breathing of all of them together. But she felt the vibrations of impacts through her grip and the reverberations in the floorboards.

When it cleared, half the roof was gone, and the walls showed their skeletal framework. The Dark Mark haunted the darkening sky. Through the eyes of the skull came shadowy figures riding brooms.

The house around them shuddered, creaking and groaning.

Neville and the others who had been trying to maintain the wards were two rooms down, now visible through the wall frames. "We're coming! Just give us a moment!" Neville shouted. "Oliver's trapped under the piano."

Ron gave Hermione a push towards the fireplace, which had been protected from the worst of the blast. "Go! I'll keep them away from the floo for as long as I can."

"You can't hold them all off," Lupin said, scanning the upstairs through the massive hole in the ceiling. "I'll help."

Ron looked at him with sorrow and kindness in his eyes. "Mate, you can't."

"He's right," Hermione said, but she was also scanning the upper floor. Why had she given Sirius another five minutes? She should've insisted that he join them immediately. But Sirius wasn't the only one here. She tore her eyes away to check on the others. "Neville?" she called.

Neville appeared from behind a jagged section of wall, supporting a limping, half-conscious Oliver. "I've got him."

The floor above them thundered with the landing of heavy footfalls. The house shuddered again, the frame boards cracking.

A figure appeared at the top of the mangled staircase. He was covered in grey powder and sawdust, but his lanky form and grandiose handwave were distinctive. Sirius used what remained of the stair railing to swing down from above like a long-armed gibbon, shaking plaster off his shoulders. He landed nimbly, kicking up a cloud of dust. "Not as bad upstairs. Got a bit of roofing on me."

She resisted the urge to scold and reached for the fireplace gate. "We'll—"

Something pitched her backwards, and she slid across the floor, nearly hitting a protruding shard of wood. For a wild second, she thought the Death Eaters had caused an earthquake. But she realized the floorboards were moving, raising and shifting like rolling waves.

Millicent was pitched off balance and landed with a thud. "What now?"

"It's the house," Hermione said. "It's defending itself. Dumbledore once said his house was like a drowsy old bear. You don't want to wake it."

"How you remember half the things you do, I'll never know," Ron said. He stumbled forwards on the rollicking floorboards, trying to reach the floo again. "Do you happen to remember him saying anything about how he got his house back to sleep?"

"Not attack it, I suppose." She performed a series of small levitations, hopping her way over to the fireplace. "Come on, I'll—"

A support frame near her exploded, and she ducked, looking for the source. The Dark Army descended from above. One Death Eater landed and discarded his broom, striding towards her.

Hermione ran, grabbing floo powder in one hand and a bar of the gate in the other.

The gate came alive, the iron poles gnashing against each other like pointed teeth. Hermione stumbled back, but her arm was still within reach of a blackened incisor.

Just before it skewered her forearm, Ron pulled her back, twisting to fire a curse at the approaching Death Eater. "Is the house trying to kill us, too?"

"It's protecting itself," she replied. "Death Eaters or us—it doesn't know the difference."

A jet of flame arced through the air, catching her sleeve and setting it on fire. Hermione rolled, suffocating the flame, and shot out a gush of water to stop the next attack. Fire and water met mid-air, exploding in a cloud of steam.

Through that murky fog strode the lead Death Eater who removed his mask, showing Lucius Malfoy's cold eyes, bright with intensity. "Where is he?"

She didn't know which resistance member Lucius was after, and wasn't going to waste time responding. She ducked behind a sofa and fired an incarcerous at him.

He snarled and slashed through the ropes flying at him, barely breaking his stride. "Crucio!"

Hermione deflected the curse, aiming it at the sitting-room door. This time, the house didn't so much shudder as convulse.

Remus seized a cast iron tooth, trying to hold it in place with his hand and foot while working a transfiguration spell. The gate dragged him across the hearth and spit him out with force. He flew into a thick rafter, his head knocking loudly against the wood. He fell in a heap on the floor.

Lucius strode past him, unseeing, his ice-cold eyes a little too wide, focused on Hermione. "This is the end of your little rebellion. And the end of—"

Something hurtled through the air, striking his shoulder. Startled, he stopped, as if waking from a dream.

Hermione looked for the source of the projectile and found a trail of soot-covered bricks. The fireplace gate bent inwards and then out again, and another brick shot out of its mouth like an unwanted seed. It hurtled through the air and hit Lucius in the ribs.

He bent over, the air wheezing out of him, and dove for cover behind an overturned table. Once protected, he turned his focus back to Hermione. "Confringo."

She was ready. "Protego!" She turned her head away as the curse hit her shield in a flash of red light. It rebounded and hit a heavy oak door. The explosion sent splinters of wood flying everywhere.

The fireplace gnashed its teeth again, emitting a creaking groan. The rafters shuddered and bent, ripping themselves free. One swatted a flying Death Eater out of the air. Four others broke free entirely and slammed down around Ron, trapping him in a wooden cage. "Evanesco," he shouted, but of course, the rafters didn't vanish.

Hermione ran to free him, only to be grabbed from behind, the point of a wand stabbing into her temple. Her arm was twisted behind her back, pain spiking through her wrist and elbow until she cried out and dropped her wand.

"Say farewell." Lucius's voice was cool and melodic, even with the thrum of a threat beneath it. "We only need one of you alive to interrogate. One of the blood traitors will serve. No need to waste our resources carting about a useless mudblood."

Her heart pounded in her ears. Lucius was tall and broad-shouldered. She couldn't break his grip before he cast the killing curse. Her thoughts raced, searching for something, anything she could say that would stop a Death Eater. No, that would stop Lucius Malfoy. Her throat tightened, but she managed to get the words out in a ragged rush. "I know where your son is."

Lucius froze. His clammy breath dampened the back of her head. "Tell me."

She kept herself still, even though she wanted to sag with relief. So, Draco hadn't run home to his parents. It had been a gamble, but she'd been right. Where is he? He must be looking for his son.

"We captured him," she told him. "He's in a secure location. For now."

Lucius's grip tightened painfully, the point of his wand pressing hard enough to bruise. "Where?"

She swallowed thickly. "I can't tell you."

Lucius growled and dragged her towards the front door. Before he could reach it, boards and rafters snapped into place around them. She caught sight of Ron wrestling free of his prison and dodging just before two Death Eaters descended on him, Millicent slamming the head of a Dark Guard into a wall, and Sirius guarding Lupin as he roused himself. She tried to find Neville and Oliver, but the boards slammed closed and they were left in darkness.

Lucius tried incendio, but the slats turned and slammed together, smothering the flames, and more boards settled into place. He shoved Hermione roughly into a wall, conjured a lantern, and turned back to her, the curve of his cheekbones flushed. "Tell me."

"I can't."

He gave her a tight smile. "Crucio."

She'd once touched a live wire when she was a child. It was a strange sensation, a rippling inside her arm like a wave moving through her. It was a low current, and it hadn't hurt. But when her father had seen, he'd snatched her away, and the look of pure fear on his face had made her cry.

She saw him now, unshed tears in his wide eyes, his mouth open, as the wave turned into a mass of razor-sharp hooks, catching on each nerve and muscle, behind her eyes and down her spine. Each one snapped and jerked to its own rhythm and she was pulled with it, dragged in every direction as her arms and legs spasmed. I'm okay, Daddy, she tried to say, but the only sounds she could make were strange vibrato screams as her jaw and throat convulsed, and the knocking of her head against the floor.

When it ended, her throat burned, and her limbs twitched with aftershocks. She coughed, choking on something. Turning her head, she spat, and blood spattered on the floor. She must have bitten her tongue, although finding that pain among the others was difficult.

A weight pressed against her throat. The tip of Lucius's boot pushed into the underside of her jaw. She wanted to grip it, to wrest it away, but her arms wouldn't move.

He looked even taller now, looming above her. She had no doubt he could crush her windpipe if he leaned forwards. "Tell me where he is."

Her face was wet, but she didn't remember crying. Breathe, she commanded her lungs, and they did. "Can't."

He raised his wand.

"I'm not the secret keeper."

Lucius paused. "He's held under fidelius?"

She tried to nod, and managed a dip of her chin.

The boot dug in further. "Who is the secret keeper?"

What could she say that wouldn't get everyone else killed? "Don't know. Memory wiped."

"Oh, you've forgotten him, have you?" Lucius's eyes glimmered. "Interesting."

Move, she told her arms. If you grab his foot and twist, you could unbalance him. Her arms remained heavily on the floor. She tried again, and her fingers twitched. She brushed them against the floorboards and tried again to reach the magic that dwelled within the house. Please. I can't help them get out if I die in here. She willed her magic into her thoughts, pictured Dumbledore smiling as she spoke to him.

"I suppose I'll have to interrogate all of you until I get my answers. Perhaps your secret keeper will retract his spell once he knows what's happening to you."

Hermione tried to remember what Dumbledore had said about his house. She'd had more conversations with him—of a sort—than anyone else in the resistance. He must have said something. I loved nothing more than reading next to the fire in my fuzzy slippers. No, that's useless. Sometimes I would hum a tune while dusting. My house particularly likes Ally Bally Bee.

She struggled to get out the lyrics, but her throat seized up. She tried again. "Ally… bally…"

Lucius frowned. "What was that?"

Humming was easier. She hummed quietly, hoping magical houses had good hearing.

The surrounding walls began to sway.

"Please help," she whispered, before going back to humming. Her singing voice was terrible on the best of days, but she endeavored to get the notes right.

The walls bent towards her, as if in a gentleman's bow. Then they turned, their narrow edges facing Lucius.

He only had a moment to widen his eyes before they attacked. They fell like hammers, battering him on his arms as he covered his head, attacking his legs until fell to his knees, and then one well-placed strike to the back of his skull led to his wobbling collapse.

The boards fell to the floor, knocking over the lantern, and she was left in darkness, crashing sounds coming from around her. The lights they'd set up had been destroyed, and the sun had fully set. "Accio wand," she whispered.

Her wand dislodged itself from a pile of debris and landed in her palm. "Lumos." The wand lit up as she clutched it and struggled to sit.

Familiar hands found her shoulders and helped her up. Ron's freckled face appeared in the circle of her wand's glow. "Hermione, are you all right?"

She nodded and grabbed his shirt. "Bluebell," she whispered.

It took Ron a moment, but he got it. He cast the bluebell flames incantation, and the shadows lifted as a circle of blue flames bloomed in the center of the room.

The fireplace had stopped gnashing its iron teeth. Millicent grabbed the grill with both hands and tore it off with brute force.

Sirius was in his element. He stood at the top of a pile of rubble, flying roof tiles lit up with a golden glow and circling him from above. He shot curses and hexes at the Death Eaters below, occasionally pausing to redirect a roof tile their way, knocking them off brooms. The tiles acted as a moving defense, forming a shield and blocking any curse directed at him.

Hermione patted a portion of a wall still standing. "Thanks." She tried calling out and felt lightheaded. She turned to Ron. "Can you…?"

Ron nodded. "Everyone! Let's go!"

Sirius sent the tiles flying in every direction and jumped down, waving for the others to follow.

A cool light filled the room, and Hermione glanced at the bluebell flames. But this light was coming from above. She grabbed Ron, her heart filling with dread. Above them, a hole in the roof showed a luminous full moon.

Remus, who had been limping towards the floo with the others, stopped, the shadows darkening around his shoulders and face. He doubled over, and the angles of his body were all wrong. Inhuman.

Hermione found her voice, rough and raspy. "Remus, go first. We'll find a way to restrain you once we're on the other side."

Remus shook his head, a stiff, jerky movement. "I'm staying."

She took a step towards him. "You can't—"

He growled again, grabbing a table and pushing it between them. "It's too late." He gripped the edge of the table, the muscles of his forearm twisting under the skin. He took a deep breath. "If I'm going to hurt someone," he said grimly, "it may as well be one of them."

Sirius rounded the table to stand by Remus. "I'll be with you, mate."

Remus shook his head. "It's not safe—" His jaw snapped shut, and he fell forwards on his hands and knees. The back of his shirt split, fur erupting from the ragged tear.

"You're both being foolish," Hermione said. "You'll be captured or—"

"Captain," Sirius said quietly. "I'm a rubbish leader." He glanced at Remus, who now had the limbs of a wolf. His human face was the picture of agony. "And sometimes I've been a rubbish friend." His eyes glimmered. "We'll go out the way we started. Fighting for our friends. Together."

"Then I'll stay, too," she said desperately. "I'll help—"

But someone grabbed her arm and pushed her into the floo. She coughed as powder fell around her.

She heard Ron's voice. "The Old Well." With a flash of light, the air grabbed her. The sounds of the battle disappeared.

She landed in a pile of cold stones. She frantically patted the surrounding area, but there was no floo powder to take her back. It was up at the top of the well.

Her wand was still lit, and she used it to find the flat stones they'd set into the wall, spiraling up to the top. She climbed as quickly as she could, pulling herself over the edge. By the time she found the floo powder, Ron had followed her out.

"How could you do that?" she demanded. "I needed to stay!" She moved to go around him and he blocked her, grabbing the hand that held the floo powder.

She stared at him coldly. "Let me go."

"You can't go back."

"Remus is back there, and Sirius, and…" She looked around at the empty weed-choked clearing. "Everyone is back there! They need me—"

"Remus doesn't know you now. He'll kill you, just as fast as those Death Eaters."

"They'll kill him and everyone else!"

"Not if they can help it," Ron said. "You know they love the idea of re-education for blood traitors. Purebloods and half-bloods have a good chance. Not you. And you're still—"

"Still what?" Her throat was raw, but she raised her voice, anyway. "Still just a muggleborn? Still not worth capturing?"

The calm in Ron's face bled away to something more frantic. He swallowed. "Still the only person that I ever—"

"Ron, stop." She looked into his eyes, but when he tried to lean into her, she pulled back. Remus was transformed by now, rampaging through the house. Sirius would have to choose between being safe from Remus in dog form or staying in wizard form to fight the enemy, and Neville and Oliver and the others… she'd lost track of them in the confusion. "I love Sirius."

Ron blinked and stepped back. "Oh."

"And Remus, and Neville, and all the others. I can't choose favorites. I have to make decisions based on what's good for the group. And you can't interfere with that because of what you might… because of what we once had. That's in the past."

Ron flinched, and then his eyes flashed. "Fine. Let's talk about the present." He pointed at her. "You're weak. I don't know what happened with Malfoy." He swallowed. "But you can barely stand. You can't help them."

She took a deep breath and let it out. "That's not the point. It wasn't your decision to make."

"He's right, though." Millicent sat on the edge of the well, streaked with soot and dirt. She wore her usual flat expression, but her eyes were red and tracks of pink skin showed from her eyes down to her chin.

Hermione rushed to her. "Are you hurt? What happened?"

Millicent shook her head, and it took her a moment to speak. "Professor Lupin went after the Dark Army. The sound of those claws and teeth." She stared past them, into the distance. "Neville and Oliver had to go the other way for cover. I couldn't get to anyone else."

Ron stared at the sky, where a large group of flying figures still circled. "The place will be overrun by now."

Millicent shook her head. "They were surrounded. Black stayed in wizard form for as long as he could, fighting back. He looked… I could tell he was afraid. But they couldn't. He wouldn't give them that. They didn't see me in the fireplace."

Hermione squeezed Millicent's arm.

She stared down at the clusters of bindweed climbing the wall of the well. "Now what are we supposed to do?"

"I don't know yet. I thought—"

"Oh, good. More of your thinking." Millicent got up, shoved Hermione out of her path, and crashed her way into the forest.

"They might escape another way." Ron said. "Maybe we should…" He gestured towards the crest of the hill.

She cast notice-me-not, and they headed to the top. From there, the house was lit from above by the moonlight, the windows flashing occasionally. One side of the house swayed, then crumpled and fell, exposing the rooms. Death Eaters and Dark Army soldiers poured out, some on brooms, some on foot, dragging figures who were bound and gagged. A howl pierced the air and was suddenly cut short. There was a momentary silence, and then a deep crack. The remains of the house crumpled and collapsed, leaving behind nothing but rubble. The flying figures whooped with glee.

She clutched her wrist convulsively and felt something under her fingers. Sirius's watch. The tiny stars glowed as the seconds ticked by.

They stood there a long time, waiting and hoping, but it was hard to see what was left of the house in the moonlight. They searched the tree line, but no one climbed the hill, wounded but alive, to greet them. Eventually, Millicent joined them, staring down into the hollow with her arms crossed and her lips pressed together. Hermione looked around her. Millicent, Ron, and herself. Molly and the other Weasley boys, somewhere. They were all that was left of the resistance. The three of them huddled together, trying to find shapes in the darkness.