Chapter 29: Hermione

Instinct

"'Instinct is a marvellous thing,' mused Poirot. 'It can neither be explained nor ignored.'" — Agatha Christie, The Mysterious Affair at Styles

Earlier that day—
Friday, July 27, 2007
Knockturn Alley

Hermione sat on the curb across from the White Wyvern, a tattered cloak wrapped tightly around her disguised form. Her face, altered by a complex series of enchantments, was that of an elderly woman, with deep lines etched into her weathered skin and thinning silver hair poking out from under a faded bonnet. She pretended to panhandle, holding out a cracked cup that had so far only earned her half a licorice wand and a loose tooth. The tooth, she noted grimly, seemed to glow with a curse of some kind, though she hadn't bothered to test out her theory.

It was early, just past the end of the workday, and the streets were beginning to buzz with the start of the weekend.

The Wyvern was relatively quiet this evening, though Hermione knew it wouldn't stay that way for long. She'd only staked out the place for half the night yesterday—the true graveyard hours, after she had calmed down from her encounter with Terry—and today, she arrived early, intending to stay until she was sure she'd seen everything there was to see. The only thing mildly interesting that she had spotted so far was a surly goblin with a suspiciously bulging bag.

As she continued to watch the pub's entrance, her eyes picked out familiar faces from her earlier stakeouts: the same sneering witch with the horned rose vine tattoo winding up her arm, the squat wizard with a permanent scowl etched on his face—no one sparked her interest today. Then, as she was about to settle in for what she anticipated would be a long, uneventful wait, someone caught her eye.

Theo.

Her breath hitched as she recognized him. She hadn't seen Theo since that morning at Andromeda's house weeks ago. He and Malfoy and Teddy had been on their way to Wimbledon.

Hermione's instincts pricked. She liked Theo—quite a bit, actually. He had healed her ankle in a moment of need and acted kindly toward her friends. But … he and Malfoy were enigmas. And Theo had also been—allegedly—photographed entering a location tied to the rune stones that she was investigating.

And now, he was at a second site linked to those same stones.

She watched as Theo, clad in a floor-length black robe, entered the White Wyvern, his expression unreadable from her position. There was no time to hesitate. Hermione pushed herself to her feet, wincing as her knees protested the hours of sitting on cold stone.

Entering the pub, Hermione kept her hood pulled low over her face, though her disguise should have been enough to prevent anyone from recognizing her. The dim interior was as uninviting as ever, with a few sullen patrons nursing their drinks at tables around the space. Theo was nowhere to be seen. Hermione's eyes darted around, scanning every shadowy corner, but he had vanished.

Then, she noticed a door closing behind the bar, partially concealed by a cart filled with dirty dishes. Her heart raced. Theo must have gone through that door. Without drawing attention to herself, she approached the bar and ordered a whiskey from the barkeep, a white-haired man whose scowl seemed etched into his features. After accepting the drink, she sat at the corner of the bar, where her eyes could monitor both the concealed door and the pub's entrance.

Minutes dragged by, and the pub slowly filled with more patrons as the evening wore on. A few people caught her attention, but not to the point of suspicion.

Then, a tall, auburn-haired wizard entered the pub. He whispered something to the barkeep before disappearing through the same hidden door. Hermione feigned unconsciousness as the wizard slipped past her, trying to listen in on any hushed conversation, but the pub's noise made it difficult.

"Izzzac," came a wispy, sultry voice from beside Hermione's barstool. It was very familiar, and it took all Hermione's willpower not to turn her head.

Luckily, the barkeep—Izac, Hermione presumed—confirmed Hermione's suspicion.

"Yelena, I don't want trouble tonight," was his gruff reply.

And then Yelena Livingstone leaned her elbows on the bar and thrust her breasts forward. She replied, deceptively innocent, "No trouble. I was just wondering if you have any of the good stuff. You know … for the Night Walkers."

Night Walkers … that was street slang among magical beings for vampires. Hermione was listening quite intently by this point and doing her best to pretend to be a very drunk and harmless old woman.

"Really?" Izac sounded skeptical.

"I sometimes have a taste for … unique things of that nature," Yelena said. From the corner of her eye, Hermione saw the werewolf toss her red hair over her shoulder.

The barkeep sighed deeply. "Just a moment." Hermione did not look up, still, but heard the clinking of glasses and rustling of clothing.

Yelena took a deep breath through her nose, which turned into a sniff, the acute sound of moving air through her nostrils causing Hermione's heartbeat to patter uncomfortably. Could Livingstonesmellher? Hermione was covered with no less than a dozen different glamour charms and hoped the werewolf's preternatural abilities wouldn't sniff through them.

Izac plunked something on the bar with such force that Hermione jolted in her seat. She spotted what looked like a dusty bottle of wine before quickly flopping forward onto her forearms in what she hoped was a convincing act of a drunken stupor.

"It's old," Izac told Yelena dubiously.

"Good," she said, her voice breathy, "the flavor develops."

"It's pig's blood and Malbec, I believe."

"I'll take the bottle."

The exchange of coins occurred, and Hermione's stomach roiled. When Yelena slunk off without any further glance or word toward Hermione, a tremendous sense of relief washed over Hermione.

After counting to a hundred in her head, Hermione lifted her head and reached instantly for her glass of whisky. With her eyes capable of looking around the room again, she sought Theo or Yelena.

Neither were in the main pub.

Hermione had never seen Yelena at the Wyvern in her days of staking out the place. She should have asked the other Aurors about the case if they had ever encountered her. Even if they were unfamiliar with the werewolf Alpha, the distinct hair, sharp-filed teeth, and yellow eyes would be memorable to any investigator.

Just as Hermione began wondering if she would need to stay at the bar all night, Theo emerged from the secret room. Hermione tensed. His usual affable expression was gone, replaced by a look of frustration, almost anger—an emotion she had never witnessed on his face, not even in school. She didn't move or so much as blink as he strode past her and out of the pub.

She was on her feet the moment he exited, slipping out the door after him.

Hermione expected Theo to head deeper into Knockturn, where he could lose himself in the shadows or at the nearest apparition point. Instead, he took the quickest route into Diagon Alley. The shops were still open, their windows glowing warmly in the fading light. Hermione slowed her pace, careful not to draw attention to herself as she followed him through the crowd. As she learned in her Auror training, she stayed at least half a block behind him, stopping momentarily every couple of minutes to pretend to admire some of the shop wares.

Theo's pace was unceasing; he did not stop or look back once, and Hermione struggled to keep up.

And then, a pair of children, shrieking with laughter as they chased each other, barreled into Hermione, knocking her to the ground next to the Owelry. By the time she scrambled to her feet—displaying an agility not befitting an elderly woman—Theo was out of sight.

Panic surged as she scanned the street, desperately trying to spot him. Finally, she caught sight of a dark head turning around the corner near Gringotts. She hurried after him, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

But it was too late. By the time she reached the bank, Theo had disappeared. She even walked into the bank lobby, searching for any sign of him, but a goblin barked at her to leave—Gringotts was closing soon. Defeated, Hermione stepped back outside and began the long walk back toward Knockturn and the Wyvern, her thoughts swirling.

Was Theo's presence at the White Wyvern a coincidence, or was he genuinely involved with the illegal rune stones? Was Malfoy involved with this? She would need to ask Harry further about what he had interrogated the Slytherins about those weeks ago.

Hermione didn't get more than halfway back to her destination before her thoughts were interrupted by a loud explosion.

The ground shook beneath her feet, and Hermione spun around, her heart pounding. Smoke billowed into the sky, and people began screaming, fleeing from the source of the blast. Without a second thought, Hermione ran toward it.

When she arrived, her heart sank. The Westbrook Apothecary was in ruins.

The windows were shattered, and multicolored smoke wafted through gaping holes in the building's front walls. Inside, she could see shelves of potion ingredients knocked over, their contents spilled and mingling as they ran over the ground.

A bloodied and dazed witch was crawling through the entryway's wreckage. Hermione rushed forward, helping the woman to her feet with the assistance of a bystander who had also run to the scene. Together, they guided the injured witch to a safer distance, sitting her down against a nearby wall.

"I need to help those inside," Hermione said urgently, pulling out her wand. She conjured her silver otter patronus, sending it to the Auror Office at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, then activated her enchanted galleon to alert Harry.

Explosion at Westbrook Apothecary. Injuries. Urgent. HG.

Turning to the growing crowd, she raised her voice. "Everyone, stay back! The DMLE is on the way. This area is dangerous!"

Ignoring the frightened murmurs of the crowd, Hermione turned back to the apothecary. The air inside was thick with toxic fumes that burned her throat and lungs. She quickly performed a Bubble-Head Charm, sealing herself from the worst of the contaminated air.

After only a single step inside the storefront, she noticed a wizard lying slumped in the corner near the entrance, his skin blistered and marred by purple pustules. Hermione levitated him carefully outside, where another Auror she did not recognize had just arrived.

"Take him," Hermione instructed, passing the unconscious man to the Auror, then darted back into the shop.

The deeper she went, the worse the destruction. The front counter, where Mr. Westbrook usually stood, was obliterated, reduced to a pile of splintered wood and broken glass. Hermione's heart sank. She knew Mr. Westbrook rarely left his post behind the counter.

Then, Hermione spotted a shoe poking out from the doorway leading to the back storage room, where the rarest and most dangerous ingredients were kept. She rushed toward it, fearing the worst. When she pushed through the doorjamb, she found Mr. Westbrook lying unconscious on the floor. The storage room was miraculously intact, shielded from the explosion, it seemed, by the counter and the thick walls.

"Mr. Westbrook!" she called, kneeling beside him. He groaned, his eyelids fluttering as he struggled to regain consciousness. "We need to get you out of here," Hermione urged, casting a Bubble-Head Charm on him as well. "I'm going to levitate you outside. Stay with me."

As she prepared to move him, another Auror entered the room, also with a Bubble-Head Charm in place. Hermione recognized him immediately. "Auror Hughes," she greeted him, relieved to see a familiar face.

"Who are you?" he asked, squinting at her suspiciously.

Hermione blinked, momentarily confused, before realizing she was still in disguise. "It's me—Hermione Granger," she said quickly. "I'm in disguise. Stake out."

Hughes nodded in understanding. "I'll get him out. You follow me," he said, levitating the groaning Mr. Westbrook.

As Hughes led Mr. Westbrook out, Hermione cast stabilizing charms on the shelves. The last thing they needed was for the entire store to collapse, spilling dangerous ingredients and venom everywhere. The residual magic and chemicals in the air caused the skin on her hands to blister, and she knew she needed to leave the building soon.

But as she turned to leave, something on the floor caught her eye. It was a small black stone with veins of green and blue, pulsing with a faint, eerie light. Runes were carved into its edges, glowing.

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. She recognized it instantly—one of the rune stones she had been investigating. But this one was different, far larger than she had ever encountered. The stones found by the DMLE had only stunned people temporarily, but this … could this stone have caused the explosion?

Hermione hesitated, torn between the urge to study the stone and the pressing need to get out of the shop before something else went wrong. The stone vibrated ominously, its glow intensifying as if it wasn't finished yet. Hermione amplified her voice with a quick sonorous.

"Everyone stay outside! It is not safe! Call for the Department of Mysteries!"

She considered disabling the stone by disrupting one of the runes, speculating that it might cancel out the magic. But she knew the risks. If she was wrong and damaged it incorrectly, the entire building—and possibly the neighboring ones—could come down.

Before she could decide, the stone pulsed with a blinding light. Hermione's instincts kicked in, and she turned to run. She made it only a few steps before the stone erupted with a force that knocked her off her feet. Her last thought before darkness claimed her was a wry realization: Harry would never let her out of the mailroom again.

Up Next: Draco realizes who he is helping to save.