Harry Potter and the Fifth Element

Chapter 30 - Searching

It had already been a difficult day for Hermione. As she paced nervously in front of the two Thestral-drawn carriages that awaited the arrival of the daily Hogsmeade stopping service from London, she feared it might be about to get even worse.

The morning had begun - early - with her bidding adieu to her mum as she left for a new life in Australia. Saying her good-byes to childhood was the morning's first trauma. Neither had any idea when they would next be together. To Hermione this ritual brought a gnawing, numbing kind of sadness - a sense of things ending. It was another step in her ongoing loss of the last vestiges of youth. Whilst not the kind of screaming agony and terror she had just experienced, it was yet another weight on her soul.

Mum was accompanying the family's furniture and other possessions, first by train to the Turkish port of Antalya, and then by cargo boat to Australia. All told it would take almost a month, the longest period of separation her parents had endured since their marriage. Daddy had insisted that someone travel with the furniture. Since he was to organise the new practice, that someone was necessarily Mum.

Fortunately her mum had an early train, because fifteen minutes after her departure came trauma number two, which left Hermione virtually immobilised for most of the remaining morning. Whoever was holding Harry had awoken him again. At first it was somewhat better than the previous time, as they refrained from torturing him. His emotions were black depression interspersed with occasional flashes of curiosity. Soon enough, however, the horror set in once again and lasted for the better part of two hours.

At first, Hermione tried to fight the awful sensations the best way that she knew how - by playing her violin. Then she realised her error. All hope of her finding Harry rested with her strengthening, not weakening that link, to the point that she at least would be able to trace it somehow and at best would be able to reach him. Grimly, she forced herself to concentrate on the terrible emotions Harry was feeling at the moment. Almost two hours of her voyeuristic agony went unrewarded. By the time he was once again rendered unconscious, she was no closer to either of her goals.

No sooner than that torture was over, the Order wanted her to vacate the premises. A large group of magical construction wizards (no witches, she duly noted) arrived to begin the process of converting the house to the Order's purposes. She knew none of them. All they would tell her about their work was that every room but her own would be greatly modified. Even she would need a guide to find her room once they were done.

The Order was installing All-Way Wallboard, as well as communications and security equipment. Whoever sent these wizards must have expected, or at least suspected, that she would still be there, since the foreman had a Portkey to Hogwarts for her. She had planned to carry Athena and her violin, but the anxious owl let herself out of her cage and flew into the fireplace, evidently preferring the vertigo of the Floo system to the hard landings produced by Portkeys. The foreman looked at Hermione quizzically, as if she were someone he could not quite remember, but said nothing. He was nice enough to help her Floo her not inconsiderable remaining belongings along after her.

Upon arrival at Hogwarts, Hermione learnt to her surprise that she would be staying in the Castle's guest quarters rather than in the Gryffindor common room during the almost fortnight that remained before the start of the Term. The house-elves were engaged in their annual refurbishment of all four common rooms, and they were not to be interfered with. Mr. Filch evidently knew of her abortive Fifth Year clothes-for-the elves campaign and told her pointedly that anything she was not taking to the guest quarters must be left on the bed in her Gryffindor dormitory. Anything happening to turn up elsewhere would be binned, magically disassociated into its constituent elements, and recycled.

The guest quarters were extraordinary, and in less stressful circumstances would have taken her breath away. Now, however, she was too focussed on the task at hand to pay them much mind. The hall entrance led to a large common room of sorts, twice as wide as it was long, with a massive wooden table taking up almost half of the floor space - plenty of room to spread out the anticipated research. Large windows at either end of the room let in plenty of sunlight, and were equipped for dispatch and receipt of owls. Overall, the layout was ideal for the united effort she had planned.

On the opposite wall were seven doors spaced about three feet apart - individual closet-sized bedrooms, she expected. Her Muggle-like thinking could not have been more wrong. As the first arrival, Hermione took her pick and chose the room to the far left. Opening the door she walked into a tidy two-room suite with en suite bath. The bed was already turned down, with a package of Chocolate Frogs on her pillow, and a neatly folded copy of today's Prophet on the duvet.

Hermione was famished. She opened the Chocolate Frog and tossed Agrippa in dustbin. Absent-mindedly she reached for the paper. The frog fell from her hand and hopped drunkenly away on its three remaining legs. "Oh no...," she gasped, "I don't believe it." The headline blared still more bad news:

Treason Strikes At Hogwarts

Potions Master Defects To Dark Lord

Underneath the headline appeared a very unflattering wizard photograph of Severus Snape, looking as if he had been interrupted doing something distinctly dodgy.

Hermione devoured the two-page story, becoming more appalled, confused, and furious with each word. Dumbledore had made the announcement himself late the previous evening. Voldemort was apparently mustering all of his supporters, no doubt to unleash a reign of terror after having captured Harry Potter. Professor Snape, whose rehabilitation Dumbledore had defended for years to any and all comers, including the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, had answered his Master's call. His present whereabouts were unknown.

In gory detail, the article recounted Snape's former misdeeds as a Death Eater. A number of "anonymous sources" in the Ministry chimed in with observations to the effect that "once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater." Snape was being blamed for almost anything evil that had affected Hogwarts during his tenure - in particular, the mishaps during the Triwizard Tournament and a spate of previously unexplained student petrifications a couple of years previous.

Snape's position as one of Harry Potter's instructors for the past five years also received full attention. An anonymous "classmate" revealed that Snape (referred to as "the greasy git") had mistreated Harry in class for years. The consensus of informed speculation was that Snape's skills in both Potions and Legilimency/Occlumency were needed for the torture, interrogation, and eventual death (if not dead already) of the aforementioned Potter.

For the first time in months, the Prophet ran an editorial criticizing Dumbledore and the way he selected members of the Hogwarts staff. Once again the allegation that the Headmaster was "past his prime" - a euphemism for going senile - was bandied about in print.

It added up to a damning indictment. Hermione had no doubt that, before the day was out, almost everyone in Wizarding Britain would be convinced that Snape was also behind the attack on Harry that had incinerated so much of London.

Still it made little sense to Hermione. Dumbledore had trusted Snape. And so much of the supposedly "factual" information in the article was flat out wrong. When Harry had finally opened up and described to her the events at the end of the Triwizard Tournament that led to Voldemort's return, he had told her in no uncertain terms that Snape had been among those who had helped save his life. Beyond that, Snape had so many opportunities to do away with Harry at Hogwarts that why would he wait until the summer holi...

"Miss....? Miz Myown?"

Hermione jumped nearly two feet off the bed upon being addressed by a squeaky voice behind her. It was Dobby, wearing Harry's old Weasley jumper from First Year, a pair of black boxers with little red hearts on them, mismatched blue and lime green socks, and one of her own shapeless knit hats with holes cut in it for his ears.

She berated herself for still being in her Muggle clothes and for not carrying her wand. Some "constant vigilance" she had showed. As one of Harry's best friends she was an inviting tar...

Hermione deflated quickly as it all came flowing back to her. No longer.... Not after what she had done to Harry. The Death Eaters would interrogate Harry and find out everything about that. Maybe they had already. Maybe that interrogation had been the source of some of the horror she had felt.

Dobby repeated, "Miz Myown? Harry Potter's Myown?"

In her bout of self-reproach, she had forgotten that the house-elf was even there. Some friend of the house-elves she was. She was also puzzled, because Dobby had never called her anything but "Miss" before....

"Yes, Dobby, what is it?" Hermione turned to the elf.

Dobby cheerfully informed Hermione that, "I is assigned to be your personal elf while you is being Hogwarts' guest."

"You don't have to do that, Dobby," Hermione gently reminded the elf. "I'm perfectly capable of picking up after myself. You're a free elf now. You don't have to serve anyone, least of all me."

"But I wants to, Miz Myown, and the other elves..., they don't," Dobby revealed.

Hermione gave in. "All right then, if you insist. You know what I'm going to be doing, don't you?"

"Yes ma'am, you is here to help try to save the great Harry Potter," Dobby declared. "We is all grateful for that."

Hermione blushed, "You're welcome, Dobby.... And why have you started calling me by name?" she asked curiously.

"You is my master now!" Dobby chirped to her happily. "It would be disrespectful not to...."

Hermione shooed Dobby out of her room so she could change. The elf was waiting expectantly when she emerged. He was eager - even overeager - to show her the special facilities that had been provided.

"...and while you is all welcome to eat in the Great Hall, these serving trays work just like the plates there, except you says what you want...."

"...you chooses a sphere and it's yours. Write the name of any book in the library on a piece of parchment and put it inside, and it gets the book - except for the Restricted Section...."

"...if you needs anything from the Gryffindor common room, the password is 'here and now'...."

Hermione spent the next several hours communing with the library card catalogue, trying to divide the collection into approximately equal units and to match them with her friends' particular interests. Neville would get Herbology, of course, Care of Magical Creatures, and (playing a hunch) Potions. Ginny would get Defence Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic, which Hermione thought were the most promising topics. Luna would get Charms, Divination, Runes, and Astronomy, the last not being expected to have anything relevant. Colin would review all governmental publications - and he had the not inconsiderable task of organising all of their research results. Ron would get sports and fiction, as she had doubts about his academic dedication. Hermione herself would take Transfiguration, Arithmancy and the Restricted Section, since only she had a pass for that. She also took law, since she already knew how to research that from her attempted defense of Buckbeak. Dennis would receive Muggle Studies and anything financial (Hermione knew he was interested in business). He was also going to assemble and test the new D.A. communication system.

To assist her friends, Hermione also wiped clean some of her old lesson planners from Third Year and before. She painstakingly prepared study schedules for each of them. Her plan was nothing less than a thorough search through the entire library for anything and everything about affinities of any sort, how they might be manipulated, and in particular strengthened.

Once this organisational task was complete, it was time to find Hagrid and meet the daily stopping service from London. She found him leading two Thestral-drawn carriages to the Hogsmeade entrance to pick up the new arrivals.

The train was late.

Hagrid reassured Hermione that because Hogsmeade was the last of seventeen stops, the stopping service trains rarely arrived on time. She had ample opportunity to discuss her idea for dealing with Malfoy's slander with the Care of Magical Creatures professor. He thought it would work:

"Tha's wunnerful Hermione...," Hagrid praised. "Jess like yeh... Ev'ryone knows summat about tha' effect."

"You'd have to smuggle it in, though. Nobody else has your way with this sort of thing," Hermione warned.

"Still, it'd be small enough, I'd reckon... Evolved fer cold magical climates, yeh see," Hagrid commented. "The birthin' season's late. In fact, I'd say it's jus' about perfect. Right after weanin' it would be yeh know."

"But the Ministry's security has been tightened considerably. I wouldn't want to do anything that would jeopardise you," Hermione worried.

Hagrid was not very worried. "Yer the brillian' one there, Hermione. They won' be lookin' fer tha' sorta thing. Jus' give me some sorta harmless diversion, an' I'll handle the res'.... I can get Mad-Eye or somebody ter attach me ter the Order's presentation."

Too much time was passing. One hour's delay was becoming two. The Thestrals were getting restless. Hagrid could tell they were hungry. He reached into his copious pockets and pulled out several dead Nifflers that he said had been "raisin' Cain" in his garden and tossed them at the Thestrals. The snack calmed them down.

The later the train got, the more nervous Hermione became. As the second hour's store of minutes ticked by and accumulated, Hagrid's assurances grew more forced, and her twitchiness escalated correspondingly.

On board were her friends. They represented essentially everything that she had left in the world, now that Harry was missing and her parents had become émigrés precisely to escape Hermione's magical world. That world now seemed like a nightmare to them - and, indeed, to her. Her friends had responded immediately to her distress call about Harry. Even though she was necessarily vague about why she needed their help, everyone she asked agreed to come, with no questions asked.

Hermione was on the verge of going spare when she heard a train whistle four times. Hagrid reacted immediately to the unusual signal. "Four blasts means there's been trouble, Hermione. Fire up some red sparks will yeh.... Catches mine on fire...."

She did as she was told just as the train steamed into view. The front of the locomotive was mangled, with the pilot torn half off. Half a dozen maroon-robed Aurors astride brooms escorted the train. As the train rolled to a stop, she heard someone yell out, "Injured on board."

Immediately her blood froze. What had she done to her friends? Hagrid leapt into action. Fortunately for Hermione's fragile psyche (if not for the wizards involved) none of her friends was hurt. Madam Pomfrey arrived with a pack of house-elves just as Hagrid was hefting two wounded Aurors out of the train.

Behind them, all of Hermione's friends poured out of the two-carriage train, unhurt and in surprisingly high spirits.

Ron spotted her first and rushed over. "Blimey, Hermione, what's going on? The train was attacked - by Death Eaters and a horde of Dementors. I cast my first real Patronus; it's a Jack Russell terrier! So did Ginny, and of all people, Neville! The Aurors riding with us were hurt duelling with the Death Eaters, but not badly, I don't think. The Dementors never really attacked, though. They made a couple of passes over the train and then left. Scared of our Patronuses, I reckon."

Ron's sister was almost as breathless as she described more or less the same scene. Her Patronus was a fox.

"What was it that you used to get over the hump?" Hermione asked them both. Neither had managed more than puffs of silver smoke the year before when attempting to conjure their Patronuses with the D.A.

Ron proudly blurted, "I used my performance in the Elsinore Cup Quidditch final. Some of the saves I made were unbelievable - even to me!"

Ginny held back, somewhat surprised that Ron's successful imagery had not involved Cho. Then she echoed Ron. "What a coincidence. I used Elsinore Quidditch too, but thought about when I learned that I made the team. The last match ... that was too tinged with Harry's loss.... I don't think it would have done the trick for me."

Neville stood back, waiting for the redhead siblings to finish. He, too, had indeed cast his first Patronus, although he admitted in hindsight that it probably had not been necessary. The Dementors had been strangely non-aggressive. Neville's Patronus was an ox, and he credited it to a new wand. The happy expression vanished from his round face as he mentioned that Harry had gifted him the wand. The motivating force that generated his Patronus was the first time Ginny kissed him.

A higher pitched voice called out, "Oi, a little help over here!"

Hermione and the others turned and saw Colin and Dennis struggling to unload several large chests from the last carriage. They were working to music blaring out of a mini Wizard's Wireless receiver turned to WWN. Hermione caught the throbbing rhythm of Pride, one of her favorite Muggle songs. She realised that she felt sort of the same way about herself at that moment. If her affinity was the key to finding Harry, she would use it regardless of the consequences - "what more in the name of love" indeed.

The others moved to help, but Ginny was quickest. "Pondopennius," she incanted, and the chests became feather light.

Hermione strode over and asked the Creeveys if they wanted a Shrinking Charm performed. They replied that conceivably it could damage the equipment, which had some Muggle components. Hagrid hoisted the full-sized chests onto the roofs of the carriages and affixed them with a Sticking Charm.

The six newcomers gathered around Hermione as she provided them some orientation and general instructions: where to put their belongings, where they were staying, and what they had permission to do. She absolutely refused to discuss specifics until they were all safely ensconced in their quarters.

Hermione watched her friends pile into the carriages, and sighed. She hoped the camaraderie of the present would survive the long slog that unquestionably lay ahead. Taking a deep breath, she started for the carriages herself as she heard more sorrowful, familiar lyrics from the Wizard's Wireless...

"...Childhood living is easy to do..."

She flinched as someone laid a hand on her shoulder. It was Luna.

"You know something don't you?" the eerily serene Ravenclaw said. "Something you think can save Harry."

"...I watched you suffer a dull aching pain.... Now you've decided to show me the same..."

Hermione gulped and nodded.

Luna smiled knowingly, "I knew he wasn't dead, you see. Whatever the Prophet says. I can't imagine Harry dying in a Death Eater attack."

Hermione smiled, and signified her agreement.

"You're scared, though," Luna continued. "I can tell. Don't worry, you're not one to fail either - fate didn't bring the two of you together to fail."

Hermione sighed, and looked up at the darkening sky. She had not noticed the magnificent sunset that had developed. The last rays of the sun were reflecting off the bases of some broken clouds, filling the western firmament with blazing pinks, oranges, and lavenders. She knew which words came next....

"...I know I dreamed you a sin and a lie.... I have my freedom but I don't have much time.... Faith has been broken, tears must be cried.... Let's do some living after we die...."

Hermione asked, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Luna?"

"I do believe so. Let's do it, don't you think?" the Ravenclaw answered.

The two girls sprinted for the carriages, but instead of making for one of the doors, they jumped on the backs of the Thestrals before them. The Thestrals jerked into motion, and they rode them all the way to the Castle.

"...Wild, wild horses, we'll ride them some day..."

They were all surprised when the Headmaster himself greeted them at the main entrance, practically in the shadow of the winged boar statues.

"Greetings all... I cannot tell you how relieved I am that you have all arrived safely. I fear that the phoney war is over. There have been reports of hit-and-run attacks by Death Eaters all over the British Isles, and I gather that you were, in fact, attacked. Miss Granger has raised serious issues concerning Mister Potter's disappearance - questions for which we unfortunately have no good answers. For that reason, I have permitted her to invite all of you here, and I am pleased to offer you all the hospitality and resources that Hogwarts has to offer." The Headmaster paused, considering whether he had anything more to say. He did not.

"I wish you all the best of luck," Dumbledore closed. "We could very much use some good luck, for a change.... Do keep me informed of your progress, will you?"

With that the Headmaster retreated inside, as several house-elves appeared to guide the new arrivals to their quarters.

Half an hour later, Hermione was facing her invited guests around the big table in their common room. She was as anxious to tell her story as they were to hear it.

"I asked you to come for a very simple reason," she began. "Harry's not dead. We have to help him."

"Best news I've ever heard," blurted Ron. The rest murmured their agreement.

"I had a hunch that something was up," added Neville. "Harry's trunk is on his bed in the Sixth Year boys' dormitory. I saw it when I took my extra stuff up. I didn't think Dumbledore would've left Harry's things there if he thought he was a lost cause."

"Until they show me a body, and maybe not even then, I'll never consider Harry a lost cause," Hermione said fervently. That brought forth more murmurs of agreement.

"But how in Merlin's name do you know, Hermione?" Ron asked. "This isn't some big hoax, is it?"

"Ronald!" chided Luna.

"It's no hoax," Hermione maintained bravely. "Harry's really disappeared, and I do think that the Death Eaters are holding him. It all goes back to the night at the Ministry...."

"Doesn't everything these days?" Neville moaned.

Hermione continued, "...As I've told you before, I was almost killed.... By some purple flame spell that the Death Eater Dolohov used.... Don't know anything more about the spell, except that Dolohov used it on Harry later in the same evening...."

"I saw that happen," Neville broke in. Ginny clutched Neville's arm as he spoke. "Dolohov hit me with some dancing spell and then turned on Harry with the purple flame spell .... But Harry was a little quicker, and got a shield spell partially up before Dolohov could complete his curse. Harry must have blocked most of it, because he wasn't badly hurt.... In fact, he cursed Dolohov properly only a minute or so later...."

"Good for him," Hermione commented. The last thing she remembered about that evening was Dolohov cursing her.

"Knocked him all the way down some stone steps," Neville elaborated, with a touch of awe in his voice. "I could feel Harry's anger at that Death Eater from four metres away. It's a good thing he couldn't perform more advanced curses then, or I shudder at what he might have done. He knew Dolohov was the one who'd hurt you...."

"Thanks, Neville," Hermione encouraged. "That explains one thing, I think."

She continued. "Well, I have no idea what that spell was - that's one of the things I'm hoping we can figure out together - but Harry and I, both being struck with it so closely together, it created some sort of mental link between us...."

"You can't be serious," Ginny gasped. "You know where he is?"

"I think she is quite serious," Luna allowed. "It explains a lot."

"I'm deadly serious," Hermione confirmed. "That's why I know to a certainty Harry is alive. I've felt his emotions since his disappearance."

"Can you locate him?" Neville asked, echoing Ginny.

"If I could do that, I wouldn't be here right now. I'd be out with ... with ... Oh, all right, it's better that Colin and Denis know too, since they're full participants now.... I'd be out with the Order of the Phoenix on a rescue mission," Hermione declared firmly.

"If they'd bloody well let you," remarked Ron.

"They'd have too." Hermione retorted, with the air of someone who had already thought this particular issue through. "Nobody else has any idea where Harry is. Anyway, let me explain exactly how this works, because it also explains what we need to do."

"My link to Harry is in here," she went on, pointing unmistakably to her head. "I don't know many details yet, but certain kinds of Dark spells can create links - affinities - between those falling victim to them. I can sense Harry's emotions ... not precisely, but I know if he's happy, scared, angry...."

"...or randy?" Ron asked, helpfully.

Or not.

Hermione let out an audible gasp. All the poise she had shown since the beginning of their talk drained away. With an icy look on her face, she threw down the quill she had been holding, and almost overturned her chair as she bolted to her room and slammed the door behind her. Once the reverberation of the slamming door had faded away, stunned silence filled the room.

Ginny broke - no, shattered - the unnatural quiet. "RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY, YOU ARE NOT HELPING THINGS HERE!!" she screamed at him. Ron blanched. At times like these, Ginny's resemblance to Mum was uncanny.

"Bloody Hell, Sis," Ron protested, "I had no idea.... I figured that if Harry was getting randy, she wouldn't need a link to know that. I didn't think that...."

"THAT'S RIGHT, YOU DIDN'T THINK! YOU'D DO VERY WELL TO START!!" Ginny raged at him. Ron rose from his seat, glaring. So did Ginny. For a moment it looked like a brother-sister duel was about to break out right over the table.

"Stop it both of you!" Neville shouted. "This isn't helping either Harry or Hermione." Relative silence descended again. Without further word, Neville rose and approached the door to Hermione's quarters. He knocked softly on the closed, but not locked door.

"Hermione," he called softly but urgently. "May I come in?"

There was no answer. Given the situation, he took silence as consent. He found Hermione facedown in her pillow, which she was using to stifle her sobs. She was intermittently berating herself.

"...So damn stupid...," Hermione muttered, not giving any sign of awareness of Neville's presence. "...Some things not worth knowing.... Drove him away.... Serves me right.... What was I thinking...? Wasn't...."

Neville tried to be comforting. "Hermione, we'll get him back.... I don't know how, but we will. Harry's just too strong a wizard to stay captured."

The girl stirred, and finally looked up. "We have to. I can't let it end like this.... I'll never forgive myself."

"You don't need to be forgiven, Hermione," Neville declared. "Harry couldn't have a better ... er ... friend."

"Don't kid yourself, Neville, I'm afraid I'm not a very nice person," Hermione baldly admitted. "I should never have kept this link. I thought I could help him with it. Instead I hurt him ... badly ... you have no idea how badly."

"I don't need to know," replied Neville softly. "I do know this, though.... No matter how badly he's hurt, he's coming back to you. That's the way he is."

"I wish I could believe you," Hermione groaned in almost physical pain. "It's just been one disaster after another, all summer - and now this."

"I don't believe that for a minute," Neville countered. "You pulled off just about the best surprise birthday party I could imagine."

"Even that turned out to be bittersweet," Hermione commented vaguely. "I think I figured out what his future held that day, and I think you know, too.... It's just too horrible to think about."

Neville began, "Hermione, I was there when it broke, I...."

"DON'T SAY A WORD ABOUT THAT.... I DON'T WANT TO KNOW!" Hermione almost screamed. "Whatever you know, I don't want you to tell. If I find a way to track Harry, I might encounter Voldemort - mentally ... or even ... physically. If he takes me, I don't want to know anything that might send him after you, too."

"R-R-Right," Neville stammered - suddenly very nervous. "Mum's the word."

They lapsed into uncomfortable silence. At least she had stopped crying.

"Neville," Hermione said with a sigh, "You're the cause of all this, you know."

Looking askance at Hermione, he replied, "I can't be. I'm not that important to either of you...."

"Yeah, Neville," she continued flatly. "It seems like forever ago now, but if you hadn't lost that ruddy toad, I wouldn't have gone looking for it. I wouldn't have met Harry and Ron on the train like I did. They wouldn't have known me any better than Avvie or Marona. They wouldn't have tried to save me from the troll. We wouldn't have become friends. I wouldn't have messed up his life like this, and he wouldn't have been ambushed."

Neville was shocked, "I'm sorry, Hermione...."

"No, Neville, I don't...," she cut him off.

"...Sorry that you're nowhere near your usual standards, that is," Neville finished.

"What?" Hermione started to glare at Neville. He had never insulted her before.

"Hermione, you're naught for three on that," the boy reiterated. "First, if they hadn't saved you, you probably would've been killed right then and there, so who knows what would have happened. Second ... no way you've messed up his life. He didn't have much of a life before.... You've done more for him than he's ever had any right to hope for. If he doesn't understand that, he needs a good talking to. Third, even if the troll thing had never happened, something else would have brought you two together. It's fate. I used to think.... But that doesn't matter ... you're just made for each other, that's all...."

"Oh, blast it, Neville," Hermione sniffed. "I ... I don't know what to say...."

"Whatever it is," Neville told her, "don't say it to me. Say it to us all. You need to tell us what you want us to do, now that Harry's gone missing."

"Right," she acknowledged.

Hermione pulled herself together. She could do this. She had to. She was the only one not a Death Eater who still had any contact at all with Harry. Drawing herself up to full height, she turned back to the field of her latest battle....

When he saw the door to Hermione's flat open, Ron was quick to speak, "Oi, Hermione, I'm really sorry. I didn't know.... Ow!"

Ginny hit Ron with a Bee Sting Hex when he started to try to justify himself.

Ron got the message. "It won't happen again," he promised.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Ron," Hermione cautioned. "But I accept your apology. You couldn't have known. We have work to do. Here's what I have planned...."

Hermione explained the nature of her affinity in detail. She told them what she could feel, and what she could not. The affinity worked in one direction only - she could feel him, but he did not sense her. Their goal was to change that, first maybe just so he could feel her probing, and ultimately so she could forge a sufficiently strong connection that the Order could find Harry through her. She explained that Professor McGonagall believed that she was potentially placing herself in grave danger. Hermione made sure that everyone understood she fully accepted the risks, whatever they might be. At that, she gave everyone a chance to withdraw from the enterprise altogether.

No one did, although Ron, Ginny, and Neville all had family commitments that would call them home for the last weekend before the beginning of the next term. Grateful for whatever help she could get, Hermione acknowledged their excuses without comment. Thinking of the wreckage that her own family had become only made Hermione feel closer to Harry - and Luna. She was functionally an orphan now.

"So everyone's in then?" Hermione asked one last time.

Murmurs of assent arose all about.

"Very well then," the determined girl continued. "Everybody grasp hands."

"What are you going to do?" Ron asked.

"Nothing much," Hermione replied. "Just a little charm to bind us to this shared enterprise."

"Will it hurt?" Neville asked.

"No, it's aspirational only - no penalty for failure," Hermione said. "I'd never hurt my friends - not intentionally, anyway." She had that far away look in her eye.

Everyone joined hands. Hermione used her free hand to wrap the scrum of hands in some red thread. Then she incanted, "Nil intentatum reliquit." The thread glowed for a bit and then disappeared. In English she added, "Leave nothing unattempted."

Nobody said anything in response, except Luna, who added an "amen."

Then it was back to the business at hand. Hermione explained what she knew about Harry. Through her link, she understood more about his circumstances than anyone other than the Death Eaters themselves. Hermione explained that she had felt Harry's emotions when he had been ambushed, and had thought him dead. When she felt him again, she realised that, instead, he was in captivity. She immediately alerted the Order, and then owled all of them.

She carefully omitted her intervening brush with catatonia.

Out came the lesson planners; one for each of them, including herself. She explained that their job was to find anything and everything in the Hogwarts library that had anything to do with mental connections of any sort between two people. She had obtained unrestricted access to the Restricted Section for herself, but Professor McGonagall was unwilling to grant that privilege to anyone else.

Hermione proceeded to demonstrate the available amenities, beginning with the spheres. She showed her friends how they fetched library books and could run other errands. Each friend selected a sphere, each of which glowed a different colour.

Memory Quills, prohibited during the term, were available to all the researchers.

Every Hogwarts guest was assigned his or her personal house-elf. Dobby introduced them to the phalanx of elves - who were also volunteers. In a less dire situation, Hermione would have been offended, but she was willing to accept anything that facilitated the purpose of helping Harry. That was all that mattered.

Dennis Creevey explained the equipment that he had begun unpacking and assembling whilst Hermione had been closeted with Neville. He handed out enchanted mirrors to all of them. These were some of more than forty that Dennis had prepared for D.A. members to use during the coming year. Since the D.A. would not be forced to meet in secret, the mirrors were replacing last year's coins as a communication system. They could send and receive both oral and written communications. Hermione taught everyone the simple duplication spell that committed any written message the mirror received to paper.

They all admired the central messaging system that Dennis had built for Hermione (there was another one for Harry, but it remained in storage). The system had been jerry rigged from bits and pieces of miscellaneous equipment. Most of the stuff had originally been Harry's. The Creeveys had found quite a bit of salvage in the mound of gifts Harry had recently received for his birthday from witches and wizards across England.

A converted Foe-Glass served as a screen for receiving and sending messages. Outgoing messages could be created through speech (there was a Quick-Quotes Quill inside), by writing on a special pad similar to the communicator Dumbledore had sent Harry, or via typing, as Dennis had hooked up a black cast-iron keyboard from a 75-year-old antique Underwood typewriter. Since the keyboard worked entirely manually, it could not be disabled by the magical environment at Hogwarts. Dennis had also found a device that scanned handwritten notes and other documents and put them on the screen, after which they could be sent to any of the recipients.

Following the meeting, just as everyone was preparing to retire for the evening, they heard a thumping and scraping noise outside. Somebody rapped loudly on the door. Before anyone could answer it, there was a click and the door opened.

Mad-Eye Moody lurched into sight, greeted by a forest of wands. He grinned hideously. "That's right.... CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared.

None of the wands lowered. Ron and Hermione, in particular, remembered how a Death Eater had impersonated the old Auror for almost an entire Hogwarts term.

Finally, Hermione asked, "What colour was the lightning on the night Harry escaped to London?"

"Golden yellow," Moody growled, not entirely displeased by the students' security consciousness.

Nobody else knew what the two of them had just discussed, but they lowered their wands when Hermione confirmed, "It's him."

"Yeah, it's just me," Moody agreed. "But that display of watchfulness is commendable nonetheless. I need ta speak ta Granger.... Nah, I can say my piece in front of yeh all. It's no secret."

"Granger, this is a Panic Button," the grizzled Auror instructed. He produced a device from his dark leather travelling cloak that resembled a hockey puck with a big red marble in the middle. "If yeh come across anything that yeh truly think will help us reach Potter, push it and I'll come running ... er ... figuratively that is. But I'll be there pronto."

"Why you...? Why not Dumbledore?" Hermione asked somewhat hesitantly of the rather intimidating wizard. She found it odd that Moody had suddenly involved himself with them. He was not even on the Hogwarts staff.

"I've quit the Ministry and joined the Order full time, that's why," he answered bluntly. "I know that the train yeh were on was attacked. Yeh were damn lucky ta all of yen made it here unscathed, in my opinion.... And yer not the only ones.... There's been lots of attacks all over the country," Moody explained. "Not bad ones.... Hit and runs.... The Deaters seem more interested in places than peo...."

"W-W-What's a 'Deater'?" Neville asked timidly.

"Blimey, I've slipped inta Auror-speak," Moody remembered. "A Deater's Auror slang fer a Death Eater. Anyway, I don't want any of yeh leaving the Castle with the attack levels so high. I can come ta yeh. Also, unlike some, I'm rooting fer yeh ta succeed. It's bloody personal now...."

"How so?" asked Hermione, her interest immediately piqued by any reference to Harry from a personal standpoint.

"Damn!" Moody cursed. "Didn't want ta get inta this, but it slipped. No lies from me then.... Ta answer yer question, Potter left this letter on his desk before he was taken." With a flourish, Moody pulled a piece of parchment from his waistband and waved it around. "He hadn't posted it. Those Weasley Twins found it when they gathered his things. In it, he requested that I be named his new guardian."

"You?" Hermione gasped. She was not the only one.

"Yeah, me," Moody reaffirmed. "I'm it whether the bunch of yeh like it or not.... Potter said I was ornery enough ta keep him in line; skilled enough ta handle the risks - and if somethin' did happen, I wouldn't leave family behind ta mourn me. He was right on all three counts. I accepted.... I'm honoured, actually."

Moody's magical eye, which swept relentlessly back and forth throughout his presence, lit on Hermione's D.A. equipment. "So that's where it went off ta after I lost it at the Ministry.... Was that your idea, Granger, ta use my old eye as an optical scanner?"

"No," she answered. "Dennis built this. I'm not very mechanically inclined."

"Creevey! How'd yeh get aholt of my eye?" Moody demanded.

The small boy quailed, too frightened of the older man to form a coherent answer.

"I-I-I gave it to him," Neville jumped in. "I found it after the fight ... when I was trying to sort things out after everyone else ran after Harry."

"Anyway, I think it's a capital use fer it," Moody declared. "Good work, Creevey. Yeh too, Longbottom. That's all I have for now. Good luck - we all need it."

With that Mad-Eye Moody whirled around and unceremoniously departed.

* * * *

Hand to hand combat had never been Hermione's forté - but that was what the Aurors had scheduled. While weeks of constant training had left her in the best physical shape of her life, she was not that kind of a fighter. She was squeamish and completely without instincts for physical confrontation. One night with an Aural Pensieve tape, no matter how instructive, was not about to change that.

Nor had it - and now she hurt all over.

It had not helped that, instead of going through the lesson three times as recommended, she had skived off the last round to take in an unassigned chapter on the mental effects of magic. Unfortunately the title of that lesson had greatly overstated its usefulness. Other than learning that some spells worked through emotion, whilst others were based upon power, the unassigned lesson did not produce anything of significant use.

Finding Harry was her primary purpose now. Hermione continued her training almost entirely to ensure continued access to the Aural Pensieve. With the Pensieve, she could look for anything in the Auror materials that might help strengthen her link to Harry. The training itself became secondary.

Still, it had to be endured. For hours she had pummeled, and been pummeled by, her instructors (now down to two, with Carluke and Greengrass reassigned, presumably to the search for Harry). Hermione had started with the basics - she learned how to SING: a pattern of striking an opponent in the Solar Plexus, Intestines, Nose, and Groin. Fisticuffs were covered as well, with a review of basic brawling techniques.

Because she was female, the Auror course was not oriented towards blocking the blows of a stronger opponent, but instead had emphasized counterattack, chiefly by use of a dagger. Hermione, who had never even dreamed of being in a knife fight, was not the most adept of pupils. The Aurors offered her a choice of weapons - to keep - but she had left the stiletto in her wardrobe at the ACS, never intending to see it again.

Beyond knives, there had been impact training, which chiefly meant hitting moving targets with fists, feet, and other appropriate body parts. Whilst there was a smattering of karate and judo - and rather more training with a quarterstaff, given Hermione's rather slight build - most of it was just basic Muggle self defence. There was nothing fancy about such defence. It was about poking an opponent in the eye, jabbing him (a "him" was always assumed) with a well-placed elbow or knee, head butting him in the face, whacking or tripping him with the staff, or ideally kicking him in the groin.

Even more painful had been contact conditioning, the progressive ability to absorb impact. This was not blocking - this was being hit. Hermione had to prove she could take a punch without going down. By the end of the day, she was not sure she had proven much on that score either, except that it is possible to endure just about anything given sufficient motivation.

Her instructors even said she was rather adept with the quarterstaff, but Hermione could not care less. The lessons were taking time from her work of trying to reach Harry, and not much else mattered anymore.

The day had been horrible, but there was no rest for the weary. As soon as Hermione returned to Hogwarts, she was beset by her friends. Even as she was casting De-bruising Charms on herself and mixing an Analgesic Potion, they were anxious to show her what they had found for the day. She was equally anxious to evaluate what they had discovered.

Ginny had come across something about affinities in a medical text discussing the Cruciatus Curse. Apparently emotional links were fairly common in family members tortured by Death Eaters. It was not a big lead - and certainly not a very pleasant topic - but nevertheless it was something. Whilst Hermione was out, several of her friends had combed the library for information about this Unforgivable Curse. Other tantalising clues were found, such as the "worsening" of such affinities by exposure to items (usually hats) that had been in close proximity to the victim's head for considerable time. Most of the real research had to await Hermione's return, however, since books about Unforgivable Curses tended to be in the Restricted Section, and only she had a pass.

Hermione jumped right into the fray as soon as she was able. The Cruciatus Curse was an emotion-based spell, which encouraged her. There was good reason to believe that this avenue might lead to something useful. At least emotion-based spells had the capacity to create affinities. Luna was detailed to look for other examples of such spells.

There were significant disappointments as well. The worst was that the most promising book on the subject had gone missing. The card for the All-England Healing Society's Familial Affinities Amongst Death Eater Victims: A Five-Year Follow Up Study had "LOSS" scrawled across it in blinking blue ink. Hermione's sphere returned empty-handed (or the equivalent). To confirm, she looked on the shelves directly and likewise found nothing.

After collecting the hodgepodge of parchments that contained her friends' research notes for the day, Hermione closeted herself away and tried to make heads or tails of them. As she wrote and rewrote, combined and recombined the scraps of information, she looked in vain for patterns and wished she had a more efficient means of organising the information. Transcribing them through the communication system helped - it cured poor penmanship and allowed some grouping - but once printed out, that was it. The system did not store or organise information, something she complained to Dennis about.

That brought Hermione to the evening meal, which she took with the group. She modified some of the assignments to reflect what they had learnt and then headed for the library, where she ensconced herself in the Restricted Section.

Hours passed. Tendrils of fatigue started to weave themselves ever more tightly around the higher faculties of Hermione's brain. The physical training had taken more out of her than she had believed. Nor did use of the Aural Pensieve make for particularly relaxing sleep.

The task she had set for herself was so immense. How did she think she would ever be able to review everything that might be useful in the entire Restricted Section - and do it in a time frame that might make a difference? She was pale and drawn; her limp hair kept getting in her eyes, but it hardly mattered because she was having trouble reading anyway. One thing was sure, she would have to give up any non-essential reading (even her usual anticipatory revising for her courses) and focus entirely on the task at hand.

Still she pressed on, always hopeful that the next book with an interesting title would get her off of square one and allow her somehow to reach Harry. It was what she did best, and she had to do her best for Harry. Not only his life, but her own redemption, depended upon it.

Around ten thirty, Hermione made a couple of decisions. Her first was to pay a visit to the staff apartment of her Head of House. Professor McGonagall had never been very keen on what she was trying to do, that had been obvious enough. Her unmistakable position was that Hermione should leave Harry's rescue to adults; that the search she was pursuing was unlikely to unearth anything useful; and that if she did find something, she was likely to endanger herself trying to enter Harry's mind in this fashion.

"Professor McGonagall, I need to borrow a Time-Turner," she stated.

"Miss Granger, your last idea was dangerous enough," said McGonagall with cold asperity. "I don't want to hear of any harebrained scheme to travel back in time to rescue Potter. I won't permit it."

"Oh no, Professor, that's not it at all," replied Hermione. "I want the Time-Turner for the same reason as in Third Year. I don't have enough hours in the day to continue my training, perform the research I've assigned myself, review what my friends have discovered...."

"Miss Granger, if I thought you were deterrable, I would turn you down," Professor McGonagall mused. "Look at you. Your complexion is blotchy, your eyes are hollow from driving yourself so hard, and you haven't fully recovered from your ordeal last weekend. Let the Order take care of this. You don't have to do everything yourself. Leave off, you've done enough."

"I can't," she said emphatically. "I have to follow this through."

"Is there anything I can offer you to get you to put a stop to this madness?" Professor McGonagall inquired, already knowing the answer.

"I can't not do this - I couldn't live with myself. I'm going to get him back," Hermione affirmed with such fire in her eyes that her Head of House would never forget her expression. "After what I did to him, I owe him that much."

"Will you at least tell me what that was? I'm afraid you're going to work yourself to exhaustion or worse," Professor McGonagall requested directly.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," Hermione protested. "Not without first discussing it with Harry. It's extremely private."

"There's nothing I can do to dissuade you, then?" Professor McGonagall asked rather dejectedly.

"There's nothing you can say or do that would change my mind," Hermione repeated firmly. "...And there's nothing I won't do to see this through," she said with just a touch of warning in her voice.

"Very well," Professor McGonagall sighed. "I will get you a Time-Turner, but it will be a restricted one, capable of no more than a six-hour reversion in any 24-hour period."

Professor McGonagall stared at her prize pupil - quite probably the most academically gifted student she had ever taught - but what this girl was aiming for was just too dangerous to be allowed. After collecting her thoughts the professor resumed the offensive. "You must understand that, even if you are able to devise some magic that does what you want, what you are contemplating is extraordinarily dangerous."

"I'm aware of that," replied Hermione very calmly, a far away look in her eyes.

She thus failed to note the far away look Professor McGonagall had in her own eyes. "To use an affinity in that way, you would have to put yourself into some sort of a trance. Your mind would be exposed, opened up to anything, or anyone, that might be in Potter's mind. His mental processes - and whatever he happens to be experiencing - would be pulled into your psyche with possibly disastrous consequences."

"I'm prepared to risk that," Hermione stoutly responded. "I'm prepared to risk anything."

"Well, I'm not," Professor McGonagall retorted. "I look out for my students even when they refuse to look out for themselves. Any magic that modifies the brain is difficult and unpredictable. What you contemplate is much more problematic than the memory modification technique that put Professor Lockhart in St. Mungo's."

"With all due respect, I believe I'm better at magic than Professor Lockhart," Hermione sniffed.

"I believe that as well, or else I'd have put a stop to this lunacy at the outset," continued Professor McGonagall, her Scottish accent deepening with her emotion. "But a botched Memory Charm is nothing compared to an affinity gone astray. You leave yourself very vulnerable, virtually unprotected, when you open your mind to external input of this sort. Potter is a prisoner of Death Eaters. His circumstances could be extreme. You've said that whenever he's conscious, he's in agony almost the entire time. Beyond that, you know as well as anyone that Potter is prone to poorly controlled magical outbursts of great power."

"Whatever else might happen, I don't believe that Harry would ever do anything that he thought would cause me serious injury," Hermione protested.

"Nor do I. But he doesn't...." Professor McGonagall paused, gathered her thoughts, and continued. "None of us know the extent of his powers. He's sixteen years old. He'll be very powerful, that is certain. Extraordinary powers of this nature oscillate wildly during adolescence...."

"I'll have to trust Harry," Hermione said. "I don't have any choice."

"...And then there's Voldemort," Professor McGonagall reminded - actually using the name. "You know Potter already shares an affinity with the Dark Lord that allows him to invade his mind to a greater or lesser extent. Opening your mind to Potter means potentially opening it to Voldemort as well.... You know, I know, and Potter knows that Voldemort would leap at the chance to turn you into a vegetable. He's been attacking all of Potter's friends, and you are at the top of that list ... if not beyond it altogether. If your manipulation of that affinity goes even a little wrong, it could result in your mind being invaded by who knows what - Potter's almost unthinkable childhood experiences, Voldemort's evil, anyone and everyone in Potter's vicinity. You subject yourself to being manipulated by anyone who might try to target you during the period of your trance. A neural overload could result, and that could have fatal effects. You could go insane. You could die a horrible, protracted death."

"You seem to know rather more about this than I would have thought," Hermione replied astutely. "Perhaps you know something that could help me?"

"I'm not a Healer," declared Professor McGonagall firmly, "but I do know this. Something of the sort occurred in an attempt to recover the sanity of the Longbottoms shortly after the Death Eaters attacked them. Two of St. Mungo's most promising young Healers volunteered, and both of them died. As a result, the Ministry no longer supports research into affinity manipulation, which is why you will not find anything in the library concerning it."

"I've got to try. I'm not really living now - with Harry gone like this," Hermione answered. "There's no closure, after what happened. At least if I die in the attempt, I'll die knowing that I gave it my all."

"Miss Granger, this is not wise," McGonagall persisted. "I've seen far too much of Gryffindors and grand gestures...."

Hermione gave Professor McGonagall an uncharacteristic glare, but said nothing.

"Very well," Professor McGonagall surrendered. "I will get you the Time-Turner. Potter is indeed a lucky young man to have such a friend as this."

Having gotten what she wanted from her Head of House, Hermione set off on her second errand of the evening. This trip was more secretive. She was not exactly doing anything wrong, but what she had in mind was not exactly right either....

She knew the password, "Here and now."

As the Fat Lady swung the door to the Gryffindor Common Room open, Hermione wondered if she could change things a bit.

"Since I'll be a Prefect again next year, can I change the password?" she asked.

"I don't see why not," the Fat Lady replied. "As long as you tell your friends. The elves don't bother with them, of course."

Hermione smiled at the portrait. "Thanks, I want the new password to be 'gone but not forgotten.'"

"He never will be," the Fat Lady replied she smiled back.

Hermione made sure the door had shut again before doing anything else.

The common room was rather dishevelled. In preparation for the new term, it was in the midst of the house-elves' annual refurbishment. The rugs were up and much of the furniture was on its side. Some of the squashy armchairs appeared rather squashed. The fireplace was out, and looked like it was being cleaned.

Picking her way deliberately through the clutter, Hermione moved towards the right-hand staircase at the far end of the room. Reaching it, she climbed six flights until she reached the Sixth Year boys' dormitory. Just as Neville had mentioned, Harry's trunk was on one of the beds, the hangings were open. Beside it was Harry's Valkyrie, turned upside down, and Hedwig's cage. Briefly Hermione was worried for Hedwig. Then she realised Harry's owl - like her own Athena - had undoubtedly taken up residence in the Hogwarts owlery.

Harry's trunk was locked. Pulling out her wand, she incanted, "Patefacio," but the Opening Charm bounced harmlessly away with no apparent effect.

"Oh bother," she muttered. In her haste, Hermione had overlooked the obvious possibility that Harry's trunk would be sealed. With her fingers intertwined behind her head, she wandered aimlessly around the room, exhorting herself to "think, think."

Finally, she had an idea. Whoever had locked Harry's trunk and deposited it in this dormitory would surely want him to be able to open it. Maybe she could fool the spell. Taking Harry's Auror ring off of her finger, she placed it on her wand and repeated the Opening Charm. The trunk popped open without further ado.

"Miz Myown?"

Hermione gave a great start and whirled around, coming face to face with an equally startled house-elf. "Oh, Dobby," Hermione gasped, "what are you doing here?"

"I is sent to find out what you is doing here," the elf replied.

"Oh, I needed to borrow something from Harry ... for my work ... to try to find him," Hermione replied jerkily.

"Miz Myown is the wielder of mighty magic!" Dobby said adoringly. "The trunk is supposed to open only for the great Harry Potter."

"I tricked it," Hermione said without thinking. Once the words were out of her mouth she almost instantly regretted them.

"How can you trick the Auror magic?" Dobby asked almost awestruck.

Deciding that honesty was, in this instance, probably the best policy, Hermione told Dobby that she had been given Harry's ring when he disappeared in accordance with "Auror tradition." By placing it on her wand, she had passed her own opening spell off as his. To try to strengthen her affinity to Harry, she was looking for an object belonging to him.

Dobby's almost preternaturally large eyes grew even larger. "Oh my, Miz Myown, do be careful. Harry Potter would not be a-wanting you to be in danger." Obviously accepting Hermione's explanation, Dobby snapped his fingers and vanished.

Hermione started sorting through the trunk in earnest, looking for a something suitably Harry's. There were quite a few books, including - oddly - one on Muggle electricity. She recognised a number of other items as gifts from his birthday party. That was when she had danced with him....

It seemed that had been in another world, so much had changed.... And not for the better.

Berating her own weakness, she forced herself to look forward rather than back. Hermione banished those memories and bashed on. She removed his toiletry items, including a Muggle electric shaver. 'That won't work here,' she thought.

Digging further, she wondered what on earth Harry was doing with a laptop computer - at Hogwarts no less? It must have come from the Dursleys, she surmised, because it still had part of a Grunnings inventory sticker on the bottom. Harry had told her that his uncle worked for that firm. They made drills. Before everything had been packed up and shipped to Australia, there had been several Grunnings drills in her father's dental surgery.

She came across the Mauraders' Map and two Invisibility Cloaks. Underneath them was a leather motorcycle jacket with a "Potter's Marauders" design on the back. She had never seen it before, nor had Harry mentioned it. She wondered where he had acquired such a nice, if unusual, piece of clothing. The embroidery was outstanding.

Harry had accumulated rather more in the way of apparel than she had expected - but the only headgear she found was a Manchester United cap. Uncertain of how much Harry had worn it, she placed it over her face and sniffed. She was staggered, close to being physically overwhelmed by Harry's scent permeating the cap. If anything would serve to strengthen the link, this would.

Harry's cap served other functions. Smelling him again - even though he was long gone - reminded her forcefully of how truly she missed him. She not only felt alone, but empty, even broken. Having known him so long, it was like something essential to her being was missing. There was a void in her heart, a hole in her soul. Only with difficulty did Hermione maintain a stiff upper lip.

Shortly thereafter, Hermione reluctantly made ready to leave. If not for her friends, she might have considered staying the night, just to be close to something of Harry's more substantial than memories. She had taken altogether too long as it was. Whatever possessed her to look under Harry's shimmering dress robes, she never knew. Maybe she just wanted a better look at the robes - the close-up view she had never had at Reims.

Underneath Harry's robes she found a fancy looking box tied up with string, Muggle style - and, much more importantly, his Aural Pensieve.

Talk about killing two birds with one stone.... Not only had the Pensieve undoubtedly spent a great deal of time near Harry's head, but it was also a solution to another of her problems. If she could use Harry's equipment to review the Auror curriculum, she no longer needed to suffer through any more of their training sessions. Obviously, her trainers had no idea that Harry's Aural Pensieve had found its way to Hogwarts.

Once upon a time, there had been nothing as important as her training. But now Harry was missing. Not only had her need for training paled in comparison to Harry's present plight, but it was an emotional drain as well. One of the reasons she had done so badly with her last lesson was her melancholy. Everything about the training constantly reminded her of Harry - and of his absence. It had driven her to distraction.

"A Priori." With that incantation, and a jagged, pointing movement from her wand, all of the rest of Harry's belongings neatly sorted themselves out and squared themselves away in his trunk. Hermione put a Shrinking Charm on the two precious items she was "borrowing," and hurried back to the guest apartments. Now that she had a Time-Turner the night promised to be even longer.

* * * *

Hermione was jolted fully awake by an early morning knock on the door of her bedroom. The Time-Turner had helped her get a better night's sleep. Completing another Auror lesson, she had awoken well before her alarm had gone off. The scent from Harry's cap was stimulating. Before the knock made the decision for her, she had been weighing the relative merits of lifting the Imperturbable Charm versus having a go at autoeroticism.

She sensed the Headmaster. That meant something serious had happened. Hermione hastily changed into something suitable. Opening her door, she saw Dumbledore sitting patiently at the large table, looking grave.

"Miss Granger, I wish to acquaint you with the latest information that the Order has gleaned concerning Mister Potter's disappearance," the Headmaster wheezed. "After some rather tense negotiations with the Muggle authorities, yesterday we were finally allowed access to the ruins of the building from which he was taken...."

"Did you find anything of Harry's?" Hermione immediately asked.

Dumbledore hesitated. "...Umm, not exactly, but there was..."

"What exactly, then?" Hermione usually tolerated the Headmaster's oblique manner of speaking, but not now, at least when the subject was Harry.

Dumbledore was unmistakably ill at ease about something. What that something was soon became clear. "We conducted a scan of the rubble for anything magical, or bearing traces of magic. One of the items we discovered was a piece of jewelry protected by a strong Indestructibility Charm. It was a locket.... When we opened it we found a picture of Mister Potter and ... well, you see...."

"Harry and that Eliza woman, I presume?" Hermione cut to the chase. There was no use denying it. Harry had gone to that woman after ... the incident.... After she had driven Harry away. She had struck him. He must detest her now.... Hermione was sure of that. She had come to Hogwarts to perform her penance. It did her no good to deny what had transpired before.

"Yes," Dumbledore affirmed. "We further believe that Mister Potter performed the charm."

"I'm sure of it," Hermione commented. "Since you haven't told me otherwise, am I to assume that Eliza Brookings is deceased?"

"To no avail, we have been searching diligently for her since Mister Potter was taken," Dumbledore answered. "We assume that she perished in the fire."

"I rather doubt that," said Hermione.

"Do you have inside information, so to speak?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, and I'm sorry that I didn't tell you earlier, but I had so many other things to think about," Hermione apologised. "Just before Harry blacked out and I-I-I ... thought that he ... he ... died, one of the emotions that passed through his mind was grief.... It was very powerful. I believe that the Death Eaters executed her. The fire was started only after they made off with Harry, probably to cover their tracks."

"Thank you for that information, as I also believe that to be the case," confirmed Dumbledore. "Another item we discovered was an engine from the Muggle aeroplane. Its presence has been our main bone of contention with the Muggle authorities, as it figures so strongly in their parallel investigation. The struts on the engine, that affixed it to the wing, bear unmistakable magical traces. We believe that the crash, which devastated several London neighbourhoods, was caused by a Severing Charm. The engine itself corroborates our detection of magic. The metal was sliced cleanly through, as opposed to a fatigue fracture, which looks much different."

"You ... you can confirm that through microscopy...." He turned, and Hermione's anguish was painfully apparent. She whispered, "That means that an entire planeload of Muggles were murdered so the Death Eaters could seize Harry, doesn't it?"

"It does, but there is nothing we can do about that now, except to try to rescue him," Dumbledore answered. "There is something else, although it may be a coincidence. We also found a ring in the rubble, protected by its own Indestructibility Charm, although the charm is much older...."

"All right, I'll bite, whose is it?" Hermione asked impatiently.

"At the time the ring was charmed, it belonged to one Murgatroyd Goyle," Dumbledore revealed. "He is a Death Eater. However, Mister Goyle was under surveillance that evening, and was nowhere near London."

Hermione did not want to add yet another mystery to all the others that were confronting her. "What does that mean?"

"There is no way to know for sure," the Headmaster answered, "since he abruptly returned to Voldemort shortly after the attack on Mister Potter, and has been in Voldemort's active service since that time. Surveillance on the Goyle household indicates that his son Gregory...."

"Him, I know," Hermione affirmed.

"...who flunked out of Hogwarts, has since moved away from his parents' household and taken Muggle employment of some sort. I do not pretend to know what it all means, if anything, but I would recommend that you be careful the next time you encounter the younger Mister Goyle - should you ever do so."

Dumbledore rose and made ready to leave, indicating that the interview was over. As he was leaving, he paused and made a parting comment, "Oh, and by the way, the witness lists for next week were revealed to all litigants yesterday. Please let me know if you notice any change in the way Mister Potter is being treated."

Dumbledore was prophetic. Only a short time after she arrived at Auror Headquarters for her last training session (in cryptography), burdened with all of the equipment she was returning, Hermione became aware that Harry was awake again. This time, however, the emotions she sensed were quite different.

* * * *

It was happening again, but in a different way. This time, his slow return to consciousness was heralded by the faint babble of voices gradually growing louder as his awareness increased. Harry was only vaguely aware of what was happening, but eventually he did comprehend. He was waking up early from the spells, or potions, or whatever his captors kept him under. This was the sharpest he had felt mentally since he had been brought here. Not wishing to let anyone - or anything - become aware of this fact, Harry began using Occlumency the moment he understood what was happening.

His Occlumency seemed to be working. The Dementors that lurked somewhere behind whatever it was he was chained to had not noticed that he was conscious. They had not come to feed.

Harry took stock of his situation. He was very weak. He still felt faint. It was as if his nerves were operating in slow motion. Simply maintaining a relatively simple form of Occlumency seemed to take all of his energy.

He could also tell he was chained to something in five places, on each of his limbs and his neck. He supposed the chains were magical because his previous struggling had abjectly failed. Upon his attempts to move, his manacles had only tightened and cut into his wrists and ankles. When he stopped resisting, however, they had not been that uncomfortable - by the standards of being chained to a wall, that is. He dared not move this time, because that would attract the Dementors.

Harry could not see anything. His head remained inside some kind of cloth sack. From the smell of it, it had not been laundered since his arrival. Come to think of it, he had no idea how long he had been there. Someone must have been Scourgifying him. He would have smelled much worse otherwise.

Even without the Dementors feeding, Harry quickly fell back into depression. His life had ceased to be worth living. All the people he cared about most were dead or lost to him. What was taking Voldemort so long? At one point he had even felt a tickle in his scar, as if the Dark Lord had been ever so stealthily trying to probe him. Shifting his Occlumency, Harry blocked the intrusion - if that was what it was.

The voices had gotten a little louder. Harry realised they were not in his head. Rather his captors were chatting amongst themselves. The voices were distant. Harry was reasonably sure that they were not in the same room.

There were three Death Eaters. The same three, Harry thought. All their voices were modified somehow and sounded artificial. Harry supposed they were all men, but that could just have been the voice alteration spell. Harry called the leader "Tin Man" because his voice was high and tinny sounding. The second voice was low and gravelly, so he became "Cowardly Lion," which Harry shortened to "Lion," because that one was willing to argue with the leader. The third Death Eater did not speak very much, and when he did, he did not sound very intelligent. He became "Scarecrow," the one without a brain. Scarecrow was the Death Eater who fed him.

Harry had just been hanging onto consciousness, but now made an effort to overhear the conversation. When he heard Tin Man say "Mudblood," his ears perked up even more. Whilst he was unable to hear everything, after a while it was terribly apparent that his captors were indeed discussing Hermione.

Evidently she was going to be a witness in, Harry supposed, the upcoming Death Eater trial. Tin Man was furious about that. The Death Eaters were plotting retaliation against her. Even after their breach and his capture, the threat to her remained - and she did not even know it.

Their conversation took ever more disturbing turns. Tin Man and Lion competed with each other to describe ever more graphic tortures that they could inflict on Hermione after Voldemort triumphed. Lion wanted to Cruciate her until her brains ran from her ears. But even that was not even enough for these fiends.

His captors were male all right.... No woman would ever make such proposals. Soon rape and murder were being bandied about amongst much harsh laughter. The scenarios they discussed were so graphic that Harry grew nauseous....

This was disgusting. But for the unassigned Auror lessons, Harry would not have understood the true depravity of the suggestions these Death Eaters traded back and forth over raucous guffaws. If they ever did what it sounded like they were plotting, they would inflict upon Hermione a horrible, degrading, slow, and painful death - made all the more agonising through Muggle means.

It was enough to make him wish for the Dementors..., but only for a moment....

The penny dropped, and in a flash of comprehension, Harry grasped that she was unwittingly courting this ghastly fate because of him. Because he had stupidly allowed himself to be captured with his pants down - literally - the Order had evidently convinced her to step forward and testify in his stead during the upcoming Death Eater trial. Although he had finally and irrevocably driven Hermione away from him, even his absence placed her in mortal danger. She was unaware of this, and could not defend herself against what she had no reason to suspect.

He would not - could not - let that happen.

Harry stopped wishing for his own death. It was like someone had touched a match to his mind. He knew now that he had to get away and do something to stop these ghouls. He was the only one who knew what was being plotted, and against whom. Harry tested his irons and could tell he was far too weak to break them. He had to bide his time and wait for release from these shackles.

Suddenly he shuddered. He had let down his mental guard. The Dementors sensed that he was awake and were coming to feed. Harry's Occlumency was also too weak - too weak to deny them their wants. But nonetheless something was different.

He had a purpose now. Since it was not a happy purpose - Harry remained convinced that Hermione despised him after what he had done - even Dementors could not destroy it. The Dementors fed greedily, causing Harry to experience the most gruesome visions of Hermione's fate.

Even so, the change in his psyche remained. Newly motivated, Harry was at least able to keep a portion of his mind clear through Occlumency.

* * * *

For the first time in a week, Hermione actually allowed herself a tiny bit of optimism. She was done with her Auror training, and the end had not been the ordeal she had feared. The Aurors had already decided to end the programme early, since so much of the upcoming week would be spent with Hermione either testifying or preparing for testimony. She was secretly relieved not to go down as a quitter in anyone's book, although she would have endured any sort of calumny in pursuit of her higher priorities.

Hermione was optimistic mostly about Harry. His emotions still consisted primarily of horror, desperation, and fear, but for the first time she had detected more positive signs as well - new determination and even new hatred were welling up inside of him. Harry was not recovering, but at least he seemed to be regaining his will. It might not seem like very much to others, but to her, it bore the germ of hope. It was much easier to rescue someone who wanted to be rescued, and now, just maybe, Harry did.

Other good news awaited Hermione when she returned to her friends. An important new clue had been found by - of all people - Ron. Hermione had assigned him some topics because she knew he would be insulted if excluded from the research altogether. On the other hand, from things Ginny had said, she was not at all certain of his dedication, and it had been more important not to jeopardise the overall mission.

Ron had come through.

Whatever had possessed him to select Marco's Millions from the shelves of historical fiction that the Hogwarts library offered was never quite clear - but it proved a brilliant idea. Ron admitted that he nearly fell out of his chair when he saw it....

"Bloody hell!!" Ron had exclaimed. "Listen to this, 'a thread of purple flame.' Isn't that the spell that Hermione and Harry both got hit with in the Ministry?"

Ginny and Luna had both been present when Ron made his discovery, and quickly confirmed that he was right. The book was an ancient one, and the wizard Marco Polo had reported seeing so many outlandish and bizarre things in the course of his travels, that his memoirs had long ago been categorized as fiction. The mention of a thread of purple flame occurred in a discussion of Tibetan Dark magic.

That was all Hermione needed. Within an hour of her learning of Ron's discovery, her formidable research abilities had finally put a name to the spell that had created the affinity she shared with Harry: the Dark Fire of Tu-Fan. Finally, she felt as if she were getting somewhere. Now that she had a defined target, she could bring her research skills - and those of her friends, as well - fully to bear on the problem of using her affinity to find Harry.

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C:\Documents and Settings\Owner\My Documents\HP & The Fifth Element.ch30 searching.doc 02/10/05

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