Hermione Granger and the Deathly Hallows

Hermione sat back on her heels in the cramped space so she could stare critically at her handiwork. She did her best to suppress her snort of amusement.

"Well?" Ron demanded impatiently.

She wordlessly held out a small mirror so he could see for himself. His expression of utter revulsion sent Hermione over the edge and she finally burst out into laughter. "Don't you like it?" she asked innocently.

Ron lowered the mirror so she had a clearer view of his platinum hair, sculpted figures, and ice-pale skin. "You made me Malfoy!"

"I did not make you Malfoy," Hermione disagreed. "I cannot completely change your appearance." She pushed his hand up again so he could once again gaze at his magically-altered face. "See? Your eyes are still the same and your mouth too." Hermione's voice changed as she made a rather important observation. "And your hair isn't going to stay that blonde for very long; the spell's not strong enough. We're going to have to keep your same hair color, or at least a very similar one."

She paused to scrawl that observation down on yet another list, although she knew her perfect memory would retain that vital bit of information. She always remembered everything that had to do with Ron, especially if it would keep him safe during their latest utterly complicated and dangerous scheme to retrieve a Horcrux. Hermione fought a sigh as she imagined the three of them, along with Griphook, breaking into Gringotts, the most secure bank in the wizarding world. She couldn't help feeling that even with all of their planning and preparing, everything would go horribly wrong in just a few minutes, just as it had at the Ministry.

Hermione rubbed her head to alleviate the beginnings of a stress headache. She knew that Harry had decided to stay here at Shell Cottage not only to stay close to Griphook, but also to give all of them time to recover from their ordeal at the Malfoys. But that hadn't really worked: although the fresh sea air and walks with Ron on the beach had done wonders for her health, it certainly nothing for her nerves. She was more anxious than ever, especially since Harry had decreed that they would be carrying out their scheme in just a few days and she had yet to find a perfect disguise for Ron's false identity. In fact, she had almost had to turn Ron into Malfoy; if she didn't laugh in the next few seconds, she'd go mad.

Fortunately, Ron was an expert in that field and made a humorously disgruntled face at her. "You made me Malfoy!" he repeated incredulously.

She giggled again. "It could be worse; I could have made you Crabbe. Malfoy at least is somewhat good-looking."

Ron looked as though he was preparing to belch up slugs again. "Malfoy is somewhat what?"

"He is," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "In a purely physical way, of course. Once he opens his mouth, however, he's completely foul and unattractive."

"Oh, good," Ron said sarcastically. "Because no bloke wants to be only physically attractive."

"He wouldn't, if he knew anything about women," Hermione responded promptly. "There are more important things than that." Her stomach was jumping warningly, so she quickly changed the subject as she pushed herself back onto her knees and raised the unfamiliar wand towards him. "Here, let me change you back."

Ron obediently stayed still, but soon grimaced when Hermione didn't begin the counter-spells. Instead, she just stared into his face. "What?" he finally asked, unable to bear it any longer.

"You still look like you," she said, somewhat disappointed. She had been working for nearly two weeks to find the perfect way to disguise Ron, and to her chagrin, nothing was really working. Even with his face coated with Malfoy features, he still looked exactly like Ron. He was going to be recognized in a heartbeat and just like the Ministry, their carefully concocted plan was going to go straight to hell.

Ron held up the mirror so he could examine himself once again. "Not really," he disagreed, but Hermione knew he was just trying to be kind and shook her head.

"You look like you." She peered closer at his chin as she spotted the faint freckles that were already beginning to pop up once again. "Your skin isn't going to last very long either; we're going to have to give you a beard after all."

He groaned in disappointment. "It itches," he complained.

"What would you rather have: an itchy beard or a long, tortuous death," Hermione snapped.

"No one will recognize me," Ron argued hotly. "They don't even know who I am when I am me--they won't have a clue who I am after you do all of those spells!"

"You look like you," Hermione repeated stubbornly.

"Of course you think so--you know me better than anyone--and you did the spells yourself--of course you're going to see me--you've always seen me!" Ron shot right back. That response shut Hermione right up, but Ron didn't notice; he just used the silence to his advantage and kept right on talking. "I'll be fine. If you're doing the spells, I'll be fine."

Her heart was thumping excitedly against her ribs, but Hermione did her best to ignore it and raised her chin a bit higher. "I still think you need a beard," she said in a much calmer voice.

Ron collapsed against the chair in resigned defeat. "Fine." He closed his eyes so she could begin. "Go on then."

But once again, Hermione still didn't raise her wand. "But I do think," she continued, "that if you have a beard, your hair is going to need to be a bit longer." She paused slightly before saying the magic words: "Like Bill's."

Ron's eyes popped wide open again. "Yeah?" he said eagerly. She nodded. Ron leaned back and closed his eyes, this time infinitely more content. "All right."

Luckily, since his eyes were shut, Hermione was free to give him the sort of smile she always had been too afraid to let him see. Ron really was quite easy to love. Silently, she set to work and soon had given him slightly darker and longer hair, thicker eyebrows that shielded the vivid blue of his eyes, a more pointed nose, and a heavy beard that obscured most of his freckles. It was a much simpler disguise, but somehow, it did the trick much more successfully. She once again pushed up his hand so he could examine himself in the mirror. "Better?" she asked hopefully.

"Yeah," Ron concurred as he scratched his chin. He frowned as he twisted his neck to examine himself at different angles. "Don't like the nose too much."

Hermione thought about reminding him that this wasn't about making him look good; it was about making him unrecognizable, but she kept her mouth shut. For once, she wasn't quite in the mood for another row. "All right, I'll work on that next time. But everything else is all right?"

"Yeah, I reckon so," Ron replied. He lowered the mirror so Hermione could set him back to normal. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," Hermione returned as she finished up, rather relieved to have her wonderfully familiar Ron back in front of her. She couldn't help grimacing as the well-known but aggravating pain shot up her arm after she cast the final spell. Ron caught it and gave her a sympathetic look. "Wand still giving you trouble?"

"Yes," Hermione admitted. She gingerly laid down Bellatrix's wand; she only touched it for as long as was absolutely necessary. "I really hate that thing."

"Yeah," Ron agreed as he too gave it a glare. "Me too."

"But I have to get used to using it," Hermione continued for herself. "If we're going to convince everybody that I'm Bellatrix, I can't be wincing every time I cast a spell."

Ron scooted forward in his chair to quickly offer the same suggestion he had made everyday since they had concocted their plan to break into the Lestrange vault. "I'll be her, if you want."

That was absolutely the last thing she wanted, so Hermione immediately shook her head. "No, it should be me. I've been the one using the wand so I'm the most used to it. It's too late the change the plan now."

Ron still looked disgruntled so Hermione got to her feet to tidy up and hopefully avoid continuing the conversation. She cast her mind about for a change of topic, but fortunately, Ron became very distracted when she stumbled slightly upon getting to her feet and had to grab onto his chair to catch her balance.

"What?" Ron demanded instantly as he sprang to his feet to help in whatever way possible. "What is it? What hurts?"

It would embarrass Ron horribly if she laughed, so Hermione worked very hard at hiding her smile as she replied, "My foot fell asleep."

Despite her best efforts, Ron's ears still flushed with discomfiture as he attempted to look casual and collected. "Oh. Well, stamp it a bit. That should help."

"Good idea," Hermione said as she followed his advice, cleverly using her hair to shield her face. Ron had been a bit paranoid for the past week, convinced that at any moment, Hermione would collapse again, victim to some rare side-effect of Cruciatus. Dean had been giving him a bit of flack for his over-concern, so Ron had become rather sensitive about it. Hermione however could hardly blame him for worrying. She had been in quite a state when he had brought her to Shell Cottage, and even after Fleur's treatment, it had still taken a twenty-four hour nap and a few days of taking it easy before she had returned to full health. But aside from that, she had been very lucky. Some people, such as Neville's parents, didn't withstand that sort of torture as well. No wonder Ron was still so worried.

She flipped her hair back so she could try putting weight on the afflicted foot again. This time, her balance was perfect. She gave Ron another smile. "Thanks."

"Yeah," Ron returned dismissively. He jammed his hands in his pockets and returned to their previous conversation. "So why don't you want me to be Bellatrix instead of you?"

Damn. He was still as stubborn as ever. "For the reasons I said," Hermione reminded him. Ron raised his eyebrows at him to tell her that he wasn't convinced so with a sigh, Hermione continued on, "And, besides, cross-gender transformations aren't as comfortable. We should avoid them if we can."

Ron's brow furrowed. "Why? You turned into Harry and were fine."

"Yes, I was," Hermione conceded. It was suddenly very warm in here. She could feel her cheeks growing hotter and pinker by the second. "But it's just not very comfortable, that's all."

"Hermione, nothing about taking Polyjuice is comfortable," Ron reminded her dryly.

"Yes, I know, of course," Hermione said with slight exasperation. "But it's more difficult when you change genders as you're not--not used to it."

"Used to what?"

He couldn't be this thick. He had to be playing with her, enjoying seeing her squirm. Prat. Hermione shook her curls so they could hide her telltale blush and strove to keep her voice as matter-of-fact as humanly possible. "Well, you're not used to the male figure since, you know, we have different--parts."

"Oh," Ron finally got it and grimaced. "Oh." He hadn't thought about that. Suddenly, he also realized that it was indeed very hot in here. He got to his feet and pulled on his collar. "Fancy a walk?"

"Please," Hermione answered hastily, anxious to get out of here and change the subject. She turned to go and promptly jumped a foot, stifling a scream of shock. Her hand quickly covered her pounding heart.

"Oh, I apologize," Griphook the goblin stated, not sounding the least bit sorry. "Did I frighten you?"

"A little," Hermione replied as she covertly nudged Ron with her elbow before he could say what he was really thinking. They couldn't afford to anger Griphook now that they were so close to the second Horcrux. "Can I help you with something?"

"I was just wondering what you were doing?" Griphook inquired. He stared at the couple intently, as though he could read their minds.

"Working," Ron bit out in annoyance. "How're your legs?"

"Still weak, Ron Weasley, still weak," the goblin stated. He looked around the small bedroom for the third companion, the one he was really the most interested in. "And where is Harry Potter?"

"He went outside for a walk," Hermione said. "I think he wanted some air."

"Oh." The goblin sized up the couple very carefully. "Perhaps you should find him for me. I would look for him myself, but my legs--"

"Why do you need him?" Ron interrupted bluntly, earning him another jab in the ribs.

"I wish to speak to him about the plan," Griphook replied coolly. "Unless you no longer need my assistance."

"No, of course we need your help," Hermione cut in quickly. "We'll find him for you."

The goblin didn't even thank her. He just continued to watch the two of them intently for several more seconds before shuffling out of the room to await Harry's arrival. As soon as he was gone, Ron looked around for something to throw after the goblin. "I hate him," he hissed spitefully.

"Ron, don't," Hermione warned him in a whisper. For all they knew, Griphook was still lurking outside the door.

Ron ignored her and continued to glare at the closed door. "And if his legs still hurt so much, how can he do all that sneaking around, answer me that?"

"I know, I know," Hermione agreed with a sigh. Griphook seemed to be showing up everywhere, especially at the most unlikely and inconvenient times. Hermione herself, the champion for non-human magical beings, found herself wanting to snap at the goblin or groan whenever he sneakily entered the room, ears perked curiously towards them, eyes watering in a way that Hermione just didn't trust. As a prefect, she had become quite adept at spotting to something. Just as the three of them had been tempted to double-cross him, Griphook was just as eager to deceive them. "Come on," Hermione urged as she hustled Ron out of the room and down the stairs so they could find Harry.

"Bill doesn't trust him at all," Ron continued in a hushed, anxious voice as soon as they were safely over the threshold of the front door. "Keeps asking me to tell Harry not to go through with it."

"Go through with it?" Hermione repeated with wide eyes. "He knows?"

"No," Ron reassured immediately. "He knows we're up to something, yeah, but he doesn't know what it is. And he won't ask," he added when Hermione didn't look reassure din the slightest. "That's the way Bill is. He never pushes."

"All right," Hermione said somewhat skeptically. They continued towards the cliff where Harry spent a lot of his time, pensively staring at the crashing waves. He wasn't there today, but they made no effort to find him. If he wasn't here, he was at Dobby's grave and both of them knew not to disturb him while he was there. Instead, Hermione took a page out of Harry's book and stared out at the sea, leaning her head back to the sharp spring air could take full control of her wild hair. The strong scent of salt stabbed her nostrils, making her feel more alive in ages. Shell Cottage really was a great place for them to take the time to relax and recover from the past few months. They had really needed to catch their breaths, take their time, and allow someone else to take care of them.

But now it was time to take control again. They had to take action; they couldn't hide here forever, as Bill and Fleur wished they could. Time was running out. For all they knew, Bellatrix was removing the Horcrux from her vault at this very moment as they stood here on the rocky cliff. Hermione folded her arms over her chest to ward off a slight chill of apprehension. She didn't fancy the idea of willingly putting herself in danger again, especially after her latest brush with death, but it had to be done. It was the only way to stop all of this so she, Ron, and Harry could finally live their lives as they were meant to.

"We can't stay here much longer," she said to the wind.

Ron sighed beside her. "Yeah. I know."

A part of them both wished it wasn't true so they could spend their rest of their days in the cozy cottage, enjoying the sea and each other. But both of them also knew that it was an impossible dream. They had to throw themselves back into the fire.

But not today. Not just yet. Today, they had other plans. Ron jerked his head towards the crashing waves. "Want to fly?"

"Fly?" Hermione asked stupidly, as if she had no idea that it was actually possible.

"Yeah, I can borrow Bill's broom," Ron answered. He gestured again towards the ocean. "I've never flown over water before, have you?"

"No," Hermione said in a small, thoughtful voice. A few years ago, the prospect of flying on a very skinny broom over miles and miles of strong, powerful waves that could very well drag her down to her death would have been extremely daunting. But now, the idea of soaring over the tempestuous sea with the salt air kicking her in the face, her arms around Ron's back, her heart in her throat, her mind blissfully free of topics such as Griphook, Gringotts, and Bellatrix Lestrange, was the most tempting proposition she had had in a long time.

He turned towards her to give her the magic, lopsided smile. "Supposed to be nothing like it."

"Is that so?" Hermione said with a pounding heart. However, she still was Hermione Granger, so she added, "We're probably not allowed."

"Probably," Ron agreed. The grin grew wider. "Want to do it anyway?"

She didn't hesitate for one single second. "Yes."

**

When Harry saw her on the fateful morning, he automatically recoiled, as if she really was the odious woman she was impersonating. Good, Hermione thought nervously as she tucked her beaded bag into the inside pocket of a seat of robes they had taken from Grimmauld Place. She hadn't seen her reflection after transforming into Bellatrix; it must have worked.

"She tasted disgusting, worse than Gurdyroots!" Hermione told them as she approached her two friends. She extracted Bellatrix's wand and gestured to Ron. "Okay, Ron, come here so I can do you..."

He obediently came forward. "Right, but remember, I don't like the beard too long--"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, this isn't about looking handsome--"

"It's not that, it gets in the way! But I liked my nose a bit shorter, try and do it the way you did last time."

Hermione was tempted to promptly turn him into Malfoy again, or even better, transform him into Viktor Krum, but managed to keep her temper in check. She knew she was only irritable because she was especially nervous. When they had broken into the Ministry, they had all been together--or at least, they had all planned on staying together--and therefore could help each other out if necessary. But as Harry and Griphook would be under the Cloak, he was going to be able to help her as much as usual. And Ron's false identity hinged on him being a foreigner who couldn't speak English very well. Therefore, it all fell on Hermione to lead this particular mission. If anyone was going to muck up this plan, it was going to be her. She wasn't a particularly gifted actor in the least, not to mention that she was absolutely horrible at lying and thinking on her feet. Harry and Ron had always been the ones to excel in that area. She bit her lip; perhaps Ron really should have been the one to turn into Bellatrix.

She finished transforming Ron's features, but before she could ask Harry what he thought of her handiwork, Ron caught her wand hand. "Hey," he told her with the utmost seriousness. "You'll be fine."

"I hope so," Hermione murmured, not bothering to try to be brave any longer. She and Ron had passed that point with each other. Gone were the days of her trying to appear to be cool and strong and collected; now she wanted him to see all of her, every single bit of her, the good and the bad, because somehow, she knew that no matter what, nothing would ever change between them. Not anymore.

"You will be," Ron assured. "And remember, if anything happens, I'll be right behind you."

"Promise?"

Ron had never looked so serious. "Promise."

Suddenly, Hermione felt as though she could do anything. Granted all she could do at the moment was nod and smile at him as he had once again taken away her power of speech, but she knew that when the time came, she could do this. Ron was right behind her.

Her confidence, however, faded after they arrived at the Leaky Cauldron and she had to approach the first person who actually thought she was Bellatrix Lestrange. Tom, the bartender at the Leaky Cauldron, looked rather startled to see her, but still managed to keep his voice steady and respectful. "Madam Lestrange," murmured Tom, and as Hermione passed he inclined his head subserviently.

"Good morning," said Hermione automatically. Ron shot her a cryptic look, but thanks to the beard, she couldn't discern it. It wasn't until they passed out of the inn into the tiny backyard, when Harry was free to whisper in her ear, that she began to understand.

"Too polite. You need to treat people like they're scum."

"Okay, okay!" Hermione returned a tad impatiently, starting to get worked up again. Even if Ron was right behind her, he couldn't help her pull off this charade. She really was on her own. Ron raised his eyebrows at her anxious tone as if to say, 'yes, that's what we mean.' Ignoring him, Hermione drew out Bellatrix's wand and tapped a brick in the nondescript wall in front of them. At once the bricks began to whirl and spin, revealing the archway that led to the formerly friendly street that was Diagon Alley.

When she had first arrived here when she was eleven, Hermione had known the instant she set foot on the cobblestones that this was a memory she would remember for the rest of her life; it was the first moment she had been exposed to the magic of the wizarding world. She had gazed about in complete awe, knowing that she wouldn't even have to try to memorize every colorful awning, every curious object in the windows, every witch and wizard milling about with their friends, laughing and talking. It would always and forever be burned in her memory.

But now, now that memory was tarnished, tainted by the dark boarded-up shops, windows plastered with Harry's angry face, and hoardes of ragged people huddled in doorways, begging for gold, pleading for mercy. Hermione bit her lip as she started to stride through the street, hoping that she was mimicking Bellatrix's long step. She wished she could give these poor people all the gold she could spare, and then give them even more because they certainly didn't deserve to live like this. No one did. She wouldn't wish this on anyone.

The beggars seemed to melt away before her as she passed by, drawing hoods over their faces and fleeing as fast as they could. She looked after them, trying to think of a way she could sneakily help them, but a man with a bloodied bandage over his eye staggered right in front of her, blocking her path. She came to an abrupt halt and tightened her grip on Bellatrix's wand, ignoring the foreign stab of coldness that ran up her arm. This was not looking good.

"My children!" he bellowed, pointing at her. "Where are my children? What has he done with them? You know, you know!"

Hermione wished she could back away, but Bellatrix Lestrange would never run away from anyone, especially a poor Muggle-born. Her feet remained rooted on the spot as she cast her mind for something, anything, that would help them out of this. "I--I really--"

That clearly wasn't the answer he was looking for. The man lunged at her, reaching for her throat. Hermione was so taken aback that she didn't even think to use the unfamiliar wand in her hand and started to duck, but she should have known that it was completely unnecessary: Ron was right behind her. A quick Stunning spell sent her potential attacker flying backwards where he lay unconscious on the ground. Faces appeared at the windows on either side of the street, while a little knot of prosperous-looking passersby gathered their robes about them and broke into gentle trots, keen to vacate the scene.

Ron turned to her to silently ask if she was all right, but they had a more pressing issue to contend with: "Why, Madam Lestrange!"

Still shaken up by what had just happened, Hermione whipped around to confront the tall, thin wizard with bushy gray hair and a long nose approaching them and didn't think twice. She drew herself up to her full height and did her best Malfoy impersonation: "And what do you want?"

The man stopped in his tracks, clearly offended. Hermione thought about adding a threat to curse him for good measure, but Harry was behind her again, whispering frantically that the man's name was Travers and that he was a Death Eater. Hermione internally flinched. She had to be the worst actor in the history of mankind.

"I merely sought to greet you," said Travers coolly, "but if my presence is not welcome..."

"No, no, not at all, Travers," said Hermione quickly. There was no time to kick herself for messing up. She just had to do whatever it took to fix it. She even thought about smiling at him, but decided against it. Bellatrix Lestrange never smiled. "How are you?"

Travers still didn't look quite appeased. "Well, I confess I am surprised to see you out and about, Bellatrix."

"Really? Why?" asked Hermione innocently enough but she kept her eyes cold and blank, as if she had no soul. That had always terrified her about Bellatrix Lestrange. If you could look at a person and not see a speck of humanity there, there had to be something terribly, terribly wrong with them.

As she had hoped, the Death Eater looked appropriately nervous about answering her question. "Well," Travers coughed, "I heard that the inhabitants of Malfoy Manor were confined to the house, after the...ah...escape."

Ha, Hermione couldn't help gloating silently. It was nice to know that she wasn't the only one to suffer that night. A bit spiteful, yes, but still nice nevertheless. Somehow, learning that bit of information helped her settle into the masquerade. She didn't even have to think about what to do; she answered Travers's questions easily enough and after she introduced Ron to him, Ron even found time to give her an impressed raise of the eyebrow. She was actually doing well.

But, as always, her relief was all too fleeting. After learning that she was on her way to Gringotts, Travers stepped aside so he could gesture forward. "Shall we?"

It took all of her willpower to keep from glancing at Ron to silently ask him what they should do. Bellatrix would never look to anyone else. She stiffly stepped forward so they could walk side by side along the crooked, cobbled street toward the place where the snowy-white Gringotts stood towering over the other little shops. Ron stayed right behind her as promised and if she strained her ears intently enough, she could make out the faint scuffle of Harry's footfall. Her stomach pounded anxiously. Harry could no longer slip behind her and communicate with her. She and Ron were on their own; hopefully Harry and Griphook could manage without them. She swallowed hard. She rather hoped she could manage without Harry's guidance.

They reached the front doors. The wizards with the Probity Probes that Griphook had warned them about stood guard, grasping the golden rods that could very well be their downfall. Hermione, who was very familiar with covertly casting a Confundus charm, waited until she saw the two men give little jerks of surprise before climbing the steps with her head high.

"One moment, madam!"

"But you've just done that!" said Hermione in Bellatrix's commanding, arrogant voice. Travers looked around, eyebrows raised. He looked a bit suspicious, but after the guards dazedly agreed with her, he relaxed and led the way inside the massive bank. They headed towards an old goblin behind the long counter who was examining a thick gold coin through an eyeglass. She stepped back to let Travers go first so she could explain the features of the hall to Ron, who was pretending that this was his first visit. "How am I doing?" she murmured hastily under her breath.

"It's a bit scary how well you're doing," Ron returned. He nudged her sharply, suddenly alert. "Your turn."

The second she stepped forward, the goblin recoiled as though he had been surprised in the shower. "Madam Lestrange! Dear me! How--how may I help you today?"

A quiet warning bell started off in the back of her head, but there was nothing Hermione could do say in her best Bellatrix-voice, "I wish to enter my vault."

"You have...identification?" asked the goblin, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

The warning bell was clanging away in full force. Hermione could feel all of the suspicious eyes boring into her tall, threatening form. She fought the urge to bite her lip nervously which would have been a dead giveaway that she wasn't the confident witch she was impersonating. Just like the Ministry expedition, in spite of all of their planning, this was very quickly not going well at all. "Identification? I--I have never been asked for identification before!" she sputtered, her voice starting to strain nervously.

"Your wand will do, madam," the goblin informed her. He held out a slightly trembling hand and gave her an expectant glare.

Stay calm, she told herself as she complied with the goblin's request. The wand should be proof enough that she was indeed Bellatrix Lestrange. She risked a glance over at Ron who shifted his wand ever so slightly to remind her that if it came to it, he'd curse everyone and everything to get them out of this mess. He looked just as nervous as she felt.

The old goblin examined the wand closely and then said, "Ah, you have had a new wand made, Madam Lestrange!"

Her stomach promptly did a back flip off a high dive. "What? No, no, that's mine--"

"A new wand?" said Travers, approaching the counter. Hermione gritted her teeth in annoyance; this Death Eater was really getting on her nerves. "But how could you have done, which wand maker did you use--oh yes, I see, yes, very handsome."

Hermione blinked in shock: what? Travers gave her a vacant smile. "And is it working well? I always think wands require a little breaking in, don't you?"

"Uh--yes, it is. Thank you," Hermione answered without thinking--Bellatrix Lestrange would never thank anyone for anything. Luckily, nobody noticed while the goblins began to bustle around in preparation for their trip down to the Lestrange vault. She turned to appeal to Ron in hopes that he may know what was going on, but he was staring confusedly at Travers, who was oddly standing quite still with his mouth hanging wide open. Hermione's own eyes popped open in confusion: what the devil was going on here?

"...This way, please..."

She had no choice but to follow Bogrod the goblin to one of the many doors leading off the hall. Ron quickened his stride to walk beside her so he could hiss, "What the bloody hell--?"

"No idea," she returned very quickly and quietly. She risked a chance over her shoulder to find that Travers was trotting meekly behind them, eyes glassy and distant. He looked as though he had been Confunded; perhaps Harry had had to resort to some drastic measures to ensure their safety. However, even as skilled as Harry was, she didn't think he could cast that strong of a Confundus charm. Something very odd was definitely going on here.

As soon as the door behind them, enclosing them into the rough stone passageway lit with flaming torches, Harry yanked off the Invisibility Cloak. "We're in trouble; they suspect," said Harry while Griphook jumped down from his shoulders. Neither Travers nor Bogrod showed the slightest surprise at the sudden appearance of Harry Potter. In unison, she and Ron both pointed to the dazed Travers and Bogrod and began to speak, but Harry waved them off. "They're Imperiused," he explained. Hermione's eyes popped again, but there was no time to scold him. Harry was already trying to think what to do next. He looked edgily over at the two cursed beings. "I don't think I did it strongly enough, I don't know..."

It wasn't often that Harry was unsure about his spell-casting, which only heightened Hermione's anxiety. Ron looked rather worried himself. "What do we do? Shall we get out now, while we can?"

"If we can," said Hermione, looking back toward the door into the main hall, beyond which who knew what was happening. For all they knew, all of the goblins knew what had just happened and were rushing after them or reporting the crime to the Ministry. It could be just as dangerous out there as it was in here. Besides, she was getting rather used to danger.

As she expected, Harry seemed to agree with her and squared his shoulders with fresh determination. "We've got this far, I say we go on."

"Good!" said Griphook. Hermione bit down a groan of annoyance. She had rather forgotten about the unwelcome fourth member to the trio. "So, we need Bogrod to control the cart; I no longer have the authority. But there will not be room for the wizard."

Harry pointed his wand at Travers. "Imperio!"

The wizard turned and set off along the dark track at a smart pace. "What are you making him do?" Hermione asked worriedly.

"Hide," said Harry as he pointed his wand at Bogrod, who whistled to summon a little cart that came trundling along the tracks toward them out of the darkness. As she climbed into the cart, she gave Harry an anxious look. She didn't particularly like how easily Harry was casting an Unforgivable Curse. In a time of war or not, no one should get used to performing those particular spells.

Unfortunately, there was no time to discuss it; they were whizzing through the deepest bowels of Gringotts, recklessly barreling their way to their very dangerous destination. Hermione never cared to travel at such high speeds, so she gritted her teeth and did her best to act as though nothing was wrong. Bellatrix Lestrange probably never had to contend with motion sickness and although everyone present knew who she really was, Hermione didn't want to drop the disguise just in case.

She was so intent on keeping from throwing up that she didn't notice the ominous waterfall until it was much too late. Griphook shouted "No!" at the top of his lungs as they zoomed through it. With an awful lurch, the cart flipped over and they were all thrown out of it. Although she was choking on large gulps of the odd-tasting water and hurtling head over heels through the air, Hermione managed to find her wand and shriek out a Cushioning Charm so all of them could glide back toward the ground as though weightless land painlessly on the rocky passage floor. Hermione took a moment to try to catch her breath, dispel the fluid clogging her lungs, and calm her jittery nerves. That was much, much too close.

Ron quickly came over to help her to her feet, worried that she had been injured, but she waved aside his concern. "C-cushioning Charm," Hermione spluttered in explanation of their narrow escape. If she hadn't cast that spell, all of them probably would have broken their skulls or necks. Ron gave her a thankful smile of appreciation and she returned it, but their grins both quickly faded as they realized that they were gazing into each other's eyes. Not Bellatrix and Dragomir's eyes, but Hermione and Ron's. Her heart squeezed in trepidation: no....

"The Thief's Downfall," said Griphook, clambering to his feet and looking back at the deluge onto the tracks. "It washes away all enchantment, all magical concealment! They know there are impostors in Gringotts, they have set off defenses against us!"

Flipping her frizzy curls--she really hadn't missed those--over her shoulder, Hermione quickly checked to make sure that she still had the beaded bag in the inside pocket of the old robes she had taken from Grimmauld Place. They wouldn't be able to go on without their trusty beaded bag. Following Griphook's advice, Harry yet again cast Imperius on Bogrod who had been shaking his head in bewilderment as he tried to sort out what was happening. Ron hurried to pick up the leather bag containing the Clankers so they could keep on going.

As she waited for them to finish, Hermione took a few steps towards the waterfall and listened intently for any sign of danger. If she strained her ears hard enough, she could just make out the faint scuffle of footsteps and murmur of angry voices. She might have been imagining it due to the high stress situation, but she really couldn't be too careful in this situation. "Harry, I think I can hear people coming!" said Hermione, and she pointed Bellatrix's wand at the waterfall and cried, "Protego!" They saw the Shield Charm break the flow of enchanted water as it flew up the passageway. Hopefully it would defer any possible attackers just long enough so they could find the Horcrux and get out of here without any further disasters.

"Good thinking," said Harry. He jerked his head in the direction that the cart had been heading before the accident. "Lead the way, Griphook!"

"How are we going to get out again?" Ron asked as they hurried on foot into the darkness after the goblin, Bogrod panting in there wake like an old dog.

"Let's worry about that when we have to," said Harry grimly. Ron and Hermione quickly exchanged a knowing, worried glance. They knew what Harry really meant was he had absolutely no idea. Just like the Ministry, this carefully constructed plan was unraveling fast. "Griphook, how much farther?" Harry called.

"Not far, Harry Potter, not far..." Griphook reassured although Hermione wasn't appeased in the slightest. She knew from research just how cavernous these vaults really were. They may have to travel to the center of the earth before they would be able to find the vault they were looking for. She glanced over her shoulder again as she struggled to keep up with her friends. They were really running out of time.

They rounded a corner at top speed, but almost instantly came to a halt at the sight before them. Hermione had seen full-grown dragons before, thanks to the Triwizard Tournament, but never one that looked like this. You could tell that he had been kept enchained underground for much too long: his scales had turned pale and flaky, his eyes milkily pink, his rear legs bore heavy cuffs from which chains led to enormous pegs driven deep into the rocky floor. From what she had read about dragons, Hermione knew that the beast had to feel quite depressed from being kept imprisoned like this, and might have felt sorry for the poor thing if the dragon hadn't at that point turned his ugly head toward them, roared with a noise that made the rock tremble, and spat a jet of fire that sent them running back up the passageway. Hermione leaned against the wall so she could catch her breath. She really wished Hagrid was here.

"It is partially blind," panted Griphook authoritatively, "but even more savage for that. However, we have the means to control it. It has learned what to expect when the Clankers come. Give them to me."

Hermione knew from the gleam in Ron's eyes that he didn't care to be ordered around by such a sneaky little goblin, but he silently passed the bag he was carrying to Griphook and held his tongue for Harry's sake. The goblin pulled out a number of small metal instruments that when shaken made a loud, ringing noise like miniature hammers on anvils. Griphook handed them out. "You know what to do," Griphook told them. "It will expect pain when it hears the noise: It will retreat, and Bogrod must place his palm upon the door of the vault."

A quick glance over at the cursed goblin confirmed that he was still very much under Harry's command. Harry really could do this curse very well. With a suppressed sigh, Hermione followed her friends lead and shook the Clankers as hard as she could. The noise echoed off the rocky walls, grossly magnified so that the dragon let out another hoarse roar, then retreated away from the offending sound. They quickly moved to the entrance before the beast could recover.

"Make him press his hand to the door!" Griphook urged Harry, who turned his wand again upon Bogrod. The door of the vault melted away to reveal a cavelike opening crammed from floor to ceiling with golden coins and goblets, silver armor, the skins of strange creatures--some with long spines, others with drooping wings--potions in jeweled flasks, and a skull still wearing a crown. It was quite a dazzling sight--Hermione had never seen so much treasure in her entire life--but at the same time, rather distressful as well. Everyone knew that this fortune had amassed through centuries of torture, hatred, greed, lust, and murder. It was a tainted treasure that normally Hermione wouldn't dare to have touch, but knew that she very well had to in order to survive this war. To survive this day, actually.

"Search fast!" said Harry as they all hurried inside the vault, although there was really no need for such a statement. Everyone was perfectly aware of how short their time was. As soon as they had all crossed the threshold, the door to the vault reappeared, sealing them inside and plunging them into total darkness.

Hermione squelched a squeal as her hand sprung out to find Ron. Ron let out a shout of surprise at the sudden contact and Griphook quickly reassured them, "No matter, Bogrod will be able to release us! Light your wands, can't you? And, hurry, we have very little time!"

We know, Hermione snapped internally at him as she obeyed his request. Griphook certainly enjoyed ordering them around. She dropped Ron's arm so she could begin the search. Even though she really didn't like Griphook, he was right: there was no time to waste. It was a miracle that they hadn't been discovered already. Hermione's sharp eyes darted with dizzying speed around the vault, her stomach jumping around at an equally fast speed; it had to be somewhere, it had to be here, it had to, Harry's hunches were seldom wrong, it had to be here...

There. Hermione spotted a jeweled goblet that resembled the vague description Harry had given them of Hufflepuff's cup. She jumped over a pile of gold to snatch up her prize. "Harry, could this be--aargh!"

She shrieked and dropped the offending item from her stinging, throbbing fingertips. She had burned herself numerous times in potions class, but it had never hurt this badly. Spell burns were the most painful burns there were. She shook out her tingling hand in hopes of dissipating the pain as she watched in horror as the goblet fell, split, and became a shower of goblets, so that a second later, with a great clatter, the floor was covered in identical cups rolling in every direction, the original impossible to discern amongst them.

"It burned me!" moaned Hermione, sucking her blistered fingers.

"They have added Gemino and Flagrante Curses!" said Griphook wisely, as if he had known all along. If you knew all along, why didn't you tell us, Hermione thought nastily at him, put into a terrible mood thanks to the searing pain. "Everything you touch will burn and multiply, but the copies are worthless--and if you continue to handle the treasure, you will eventually be crushed to death by the weight of expanding gold."

"Okay, don't touch anything!" said Harry desperately, but even as he said it, Ron moved towards Hermione to examine her injured hand and accidentally nudged one of the fallen goblets with his foot, and twenty more exploded into being while Ron hopped on the spot, part of his shoe burned away by contact with the hot metal.

Hermione immediately forgot about her hand and reached out to find his arm. "Stand still, don't move!" she said anxiously as she murmured a charm to repair his shoe. The worn trainer was quickly mended, but there was no time to do anything for the pain. It would take too much time to heal it properly. They would just have to keep on searching and Heal themselves as soon as they managed to escape. If they managed to escape. Hermione fought a sigh; it was really quite amazing how their most carefully-laid plans always seemed to go straight to hell so very quickly.

She stayed close to Ron as they all continued the search, prepared to spring into action in case he bumped into something again. The multitude of scalding hot treasure had caused the temperature of the vault to rise to a very uncomfortable degree. Hermione wished she could tug on her clothing or tie her long hair up into a knot off of her sweaty neck or conjure some water for them, but she didn't dare do any extraneous movement. There was far too much burning gold surrounding them as there was. The slightest mistake could cause them to become buried in treasure.

"It's there, it's up there!"

With bated breath, Ron and Hermione spun around and pointed their wands in the same direction as Harry's so that the little golden cup sparkled in a three-way spotlight: the cup that had belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. Hermione suppressed the urge to jump up and down in excitement: thank God. They really were running of time.

"And how the hell are we going to get up there without touching anything?" asked Ron.

Without thinking, Hermione brandished her wand. "Accio Cup!"

"No use, no use!" snarled the goblin with annoyance, flapping his twisted fingers impatiently at Hermione and her wand. Even though it was honest mistake, Hermione flushed as though she had not known the proper incantation for an Unlocking charm. Griphook had told them on their very first day of planning that it was impossible to use magic on the objects in the vault.

Ron muttered something undoubtedly vulgar under his breath, but it was Harry who actually spoke his thoughts aloud. "Then what do we do?" said Harry, glaring at the goblin. "If you want the sword, Griphook, then you'll have to help us more than--wait! Can I touch stuff the sword? Hermione, give it here!"

To redeem herself, Hermione dug out the sword from her purse as quickly as she could and passed it off to Harry who tried to hook the sword through the handle of the cup. Griphook watched very quietly, a drop of drool dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. The tip of the sword was still much too far away from the target, even when Harry stood on the very tips of his toes. He strained one more time, almost losing his balance and falling onto a mound of Galleons if Ron hadn't seized the back of his shirt in time. Harry righted himself and handed Ron the sword so he could try. Ron mimicked Harry's actions, but to no avail. Even he was too short.

"We need more height," Ron said desperately. He gave Harry the sword and beckoned to Hermione. "Come on. Climb up on me."

Normally, Hermione might have protested, but there was no time. She gathered up her robes so Ron wouldn't have a mound of fabric in his face while Ron crouched down so she could sit on his shoulders. With Harry spotting them, Ron easily lifted her. Eagerly, Harry handed her the sword and Hermione raised her arm high in the air towards the cup. "Well?" Ron demanded hopefully, unable to see from his position on the ground.

Hermione tried again before shaking her head regretfully. "Still too short," she called down ruefully.

"What if you stood up?" Ron suggested as he repositioned his grip on her legs so she could try to put her feet on his shoulders.

"No, it wouldn't work," Harry confirmed for Hermione as he accurately judged that they would still be too far from the cup. He looked around wildly for inspiration. "But maybe if you stood on something else, Ron..."

Clank. Clank. Clank...

All of them spun around towards the entrance of the vault, eyes wide at the first sound of immediate danger. A loud roar of a dragon confirmed their worst suspicions; they were no longer alone.

Ron quickly lowered Hermione back to the floor so she wouldn't be so exposed when the vault door was opened. Harry took one more glance around the room before turning to appeal to Hermione. "Hermione," said Harry, "I've got to get up there, we've got to get rid of it--"

She knew precisely what he wanted her to do, even though they all knew how much she hated this spell. But there was no other choice; she raised her wand, pointed it at Harry, and whispered, "Levicorpus."

With a sharp jerk, Harry was airborne, sword stretched out towards their prize. As with flying on a broom, Hermione wasn't particularly good at steering so Harry accidentally hit a suit of armor as he ascended. There was no way to avoid the giant replicas that burst out of the armor so Hermione gritted her teeth and allowed herself to be whacked painfully by the scalding armor, keeping all of her focus on Harry so the spell wouldn't be broken. She landed with a crash into a pile of jewelry which quickly began to replicate, and those replications hit more treasure, which hit more treasure, and more treasure, and more treasure...

She could feel her skin blistering and burning, but Hermione kept her eyes on Harry. Ron and the two goblins were howling in pain, and she was yelling too, but she wasn't about to try anything until the cup was safely on the hilt of the sword. Any lapse in concentration could spell disaster for them all. Harry had glanced down at the sounds of his friends' shouts, but he too knew that he couldn't help until they had attained their goal. He quickly returned his attentions to the rafters and deftly thrust the sword through the handle of Hufflepuff's cup.

As soon as he was certain he had it, Hermione acted. "Impervius!" she shouted as she flicked her wand towards Ron's hunched and burnt form. Ron gasped in relief and instantly jerked his head at her, too winded to speak. Hermione dove towards him, ignoring the sizzling of her skin as she tried to figure out what the problem was. Even though her charm had temporarily protected him, he was still doubled over as if in a lot of pain--

"Oh!" Hermione hooked her arms under Bogrod's limp shoulder and heaved him upwards so he wouldn't be lost in the sea of burning gold. He had long since passed out from the pain. She looked all about her for the other goblin. "Where's Griphook?"

Ron's eyes flicked over her shoulder just for a second. "Don't worry about it, just--"

"Ron, I know you don't like him, but that hardly--"

"--Impervius yourself already, will you?" Ron snapped over her protests. He winced at the sight of her red and swollen arms. "Harry's got Griphook--just do it!"

Hermione obeyed as she twisted her neck to look over her shoulder to watch Harry yank Griphook up to safety and perform the counter-spell on himself so he and the goblin crashed down onto the surface of the swelling treasure, the sword and cup jumping out of Harry's now burnt hand.

"No!" Hermione screeched as the two precious items soon became lost in the sea of useless artifacts. They couldn't lose the Horcrux so quickly, not now, not when they were so close.

"Get it!" Harry yelled as Griphook clambered onto his shoulders again to avoid the swelling mass of red-hot objects. "Where's the sword? It had the cup on it!"

Ron swore loudly and scooped up Bogrod with fresh strength, holding the unconscious goblin safely in the air. "Go," he urged Hermione, who now had both hands free, over the deafening clanking on the other side of the vault, announcing their imminent doom. "Find it--"

Hermione dove towards Harry, but she suddenly knew it was too late. Griphook had let out a cry of triumph and lunged forward, one hand tightly around Harry's hair to keep himself from falling. Griphook hadn't climbed up there to avoid the searing gold, although it certainly was an excellent benefit to his plan: he had the best angle to find the sword.

She did everything she could to get there first, but to no avail. Griphook seized the hilt of the sword and swung it high out of Harry's reach. The tiny golden cup, skewered by the handle on the sword's blade, was flung into the air. The goblin still astride him, Harry dived and caught it. He held on tight even though it had to be searing his flesh and he was soon surrounded by a shower of replica Hufflepuff cups. Ron bellowed something incomprehensible at her, but Hermione knew what it was. She half-swam, half-climbed her way towards Harry, her wand out and ready to make him impervious to the agony, but before she could complete the proper wrist movement, the entrance of the vault opened and they were all sliding uncontrollably on an expanding avalanche of fiery gold and silver that bore them into the outer chamber.

As soon as she could, Hermione climbed to her feet, wand at the ready. Griphook was already sprinting for cover amongst the surrounding goblins, brandishing the sword of Godric Gryffindor and crying, "Thieves! Thieves! Help! Thieves!"

Traitor, Hermione shot at him, but she knew better than to say the words aloud. The goblins, all holding daggers, would probably not hesitate to use their weapons if they heard them insult one of their own.

"Stupefy!" Harry bellowed hopelessly, at a loss of what else to do. Ron and Hermione quickly joined in. D.A. had trained them well so about a third of the goblins soon toppled over, but the others kept on coming, soon joined by several wizards with wands. Hermione took a few steps backwards, slipping on a jeweled goblet and nearly losing her balance. There really was no escape. She risked a glance over her shoulder. Maybe it would be better if they retreated back into the vault.

Discontented by the sudden arrival of the wizards, the tethered dragon let out a roar, and a gush of flame flew over the goblins. Hermione automatically ducked and cast a Protection Shield to protect the three of them as the wizards fled, doubled-up, back the way they had come. Ron wiped the sweat off of his face as he used the momentary protection to turn to Hermione to silently ask what the hell to do.

Harry however took notice of his friends. He was staring at the obviously upset dragon as if he had never seen such a magical creature before, a spark of mischief and madness in his eyes. He pointed his wand at the thick cuffs chaining the beast to the floor and yelled,

"Relashio!" The cuffs on the dragon broke open with loud bangs. "This way!" Harry yelled, and still shooting Stunning Spells at the advancing goblins, he sprinted toward the blind dragon.

His two best friends, who would willingly travel to hell and back for him, hesitated. Harry seemed to have gone mad; not even Hagrid would charge towards a dragon like that. "Harry--Harry--what are you doing?" cried Hermione.

"Get up, climb up, come on--"

Ron's hand was already yanking her forward to propel her along, counting on her to cover them from the shower of spells still determined to stop them. Harry had already climbed up by the time they made it safely to the dragon's haunches. Harry stretched out an arm to help her up while Ron climbed on behind them, and a second later the dragon became aware that it was untethered. With a roar, it reared. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as she flattened herself against its scales. This definitely had to be the stupidest plan they had ever concocted.

She opened her eyes as she felt the dragon suddenly dive, hurtling towards the opening of the passage leading back to the main part of Gringotts. "We'll never get out, it's too big!" Hermione screamed, but the dragon opened its mouth and belched flame again, blasting the tunnel, whose floors and ceilings cracked and crumbled. By sheer force the dragon clawed and fought its way through. Hermione closed her eyes again to protect herself, but opened them when she felt the beast shudder with fatigue. The dragon however would not stop his struggle, even as countless daggers rained onto his torn and sensitive scales. He wanted freedom so desperately, he was willing to die for it, just like they all would, he was a prisoner just like them, he needed their help and Hermione was never one to deny a magical creature its rights as a part of the magical world.

She aimed her wand at the ceiling. "Defodio!" A large chunk of the ceiling was blasted away so they could fly a few more inches forward. Ron and Harry quickly joined in and fresh air tantalizing began to lick their faces, urging them to hold out just a little longer, to keep on casting the helpful spell over and over again and hold onto the dragon's back with their knees as tightly as they could so they wouldn't fall off, that they could make it, despite all of the odds, they would survive, they really could break into the most secure bank in the world and escape, it was possible, anything was possible--

And they were in the main hallway, breaking through the doors, and launching up into the blue skies above. As the cool air gushed powerfully over them, Hermione couldn't help letting out a sobs of relief that lasted almost the entire ride to the north. Freedom had never tasted so sweet.