A Surprising Safety

Chapter 1: The Catalyst

As though a window gave upon the sylvan scene

The change of Philomel, by the barbarous king

So rudely forced; yet there the nightingale

Filled all the desert with inviolable voice

And still she cried, and still the world pursues,

'Jug Jug' to dirty ears.

- "The Waste Land" T.S. Eliot

"The communion hymn will be 'Sing a New Song,' number three hundred and forty-five."

Hermione sat up a little straighter, as her mother gently nudged her, and handed her the hymnal. She sighed, and began to sing along.

Church had become almost unbearable the summer after fifth year. Anytime she sat still and had a chance for her thoughts to roam, Hermione found she couldn't concentrate. Too much had happened, and too much needed to be thought about. This included the school books for that year - the Arithmancy one was simply immense, and while the other titles for the NEWT level course were optional, Hermione had purchased them all and staggered out of the shop under the load.

While at home at least, there was no one to talk to about these things. Hermione loved her parents, yes, but she had told them only the minimum about the war. They were loving and understanding, but would never be able to comprehend a situation that seemed so fantastical. Letters to Ron and Harry helped, but Ron was dealing with problems within his own family, and Harry was slowly overcoming Sirius' loss.

Her mother had noticed her lack of concentration, how she would drift off at times, even in the midst of conversation. Like now, Mrs. Granger thought, watching her daughter.

Hermione followed the refrain with the second verse, but was hardly listening. At the moment, she was more occupied with an Arithmancy problem she'd read before they left in the morning which she still hadn't figured it out. And it was a proof - she loved proofs! Professor Vector had praised her warmly last year for being able to logically and clearly deduce each problem.

The congregation finished the song and knelt. One parishioner fidgeted, then stood and went to the back of the church, presumably to the bathroom. The priest raised his hands over the Eucharist and began the prayer. Hermione bit her lip, and frowned slightly, thinking back to the problem.

"Prove that the invisibility-enabling Aoratos Charm makes use of magical properties of seven, and how this affects the magnitude of the spell," the book had read.

Suppose, Hermione mentally chanted, the Aortas Charm does utilize the magical properties of seven. If so, then it must be cast within a heptagon, following Bridget Wenlock's postulate on the fundamental properties of seven.

And the heptagon helps increase the magnitude of the spell, I know! Hermione thought. But I'm positive there's more then that! What am I missing?

"What on earth?" Mr. Granger muttered suddenly, looking towards the main church aisle. A man was strolling down it, slowly, black robes fluttering behind him. There was a hood drawn up over his face, which Hermione could see was hidden behind a white mask.

A Death Eater.

"I thank you, Father, for preparing an altar for us," the man said.

Hermione gasped, and a shriek almost erupted from her mouth. It was Lucius Malfoy's voice - he's in Azkaban, and he escaped, oh god - this is a raid, I'm in the middle of a Death Eater raid!

Lucius ignored the indignant shouts and calls from the congregation, and continued to speak. "However, we will no longer be requiring your services." He smiled, and Hermione swore she could see the power and expectation swirling around him like an aura. "Avada Kedavra!"

The jet of green light swooped towards the altar and struck the priest in the stomach, accompanied by a rushing sound. He collapsed.

Hermione felt bile rise in her throat.

Other Death Eaters stepped out now, from within the congregation, from behind doors, from confessionals, some still appearing like Muggles as their own features slowly began to melt through.

Polyjuice Potion, Hermione realized. They must not be that concerned about being recognized.

Snapping back into Gryffindor mode, she considered the possibilities. There was no way she'd make it out of the church by running. The Death Eaters would probably recognize her though, and stop because she was Harry Potter's friend...and she could use a stunning spell...

Except she didn't have her wand; never took it to Mass. And even if I did, Hermione reconsidered, how could I take down twenty Death Eaters?

Mrs. and Mr. Granger turned to their daughter and shoved her down into the pew.

"Mum, they're Death Eaters! Like the ones from the Department of Mysteries!" Hermione exclaimed above the screams that had begun.

Mr. Granger looked at his wife. She looked back, and then spoke to Hermione, saying, "Hermione, we love you. Play along."

Hermione's face twisted in confusion, unsure of what her mother meant, and she panicked at the finality of the statement.

A Death Eater continued up the aisle, until he was coming down their pew, the Muggle features from the Polyjuice motion melding with his own as he reverted to his self.

Hermione's mother grabbed her arm, and her face contorted in terror. Hermione remained confused for a moment, until her mother screamed and shoved her away. Mr. Granger grabbed his wife, holding her tightly, and turning her away from his daughter.

"Who are you?" he screamed. "Don't you dare hurt her!"

They're pretending I'm a Death Eater, Hermione realized.

But that'll never work, Hermione thought. The other Death Eaters will expect me to turn back to a Death Eater, and I never will.

The Death Eater continued down the aisle. There was now no one between him and Hermione.

In a few seconds, Hermione gathered the choices and examined them. Pretend and hope you escape, or stay and die - but with Mum and Dad.

Her parents were still shouting and shrinking away from her. Mrs. Granger held her eyes, pleading with Hermione even as she recoiled from her presence.

I don't want to die, Hermione thought suddenly. So she grabbed her mother's arm, wrenched her away from her father, and slammed her into the pew. Mrs. Granger cried out, and slumped down.

"What the hell are you doing, Mudblood bitch," the Death Eater snarled, grabbing Hermione and tossing her to the ground.

She felt even sicker now, but summoned up the best acting skills she possessed.

"Fuck you," she shot back. "The goddamn potion won't reverse."

The Death Eater hesitated, suspicious, but after all, she had been attacking the Muggles.... "Where's your wand?"

"Broken," Hermione replied disgustedly, standing up and brushing herself up, holding her head in a manner befitting Draco Malfoy.

It worked better then she expected.

"Draco Malfoy?" the Death Eater asked. "Lucius said you weren't allowed to come."

"Screw my father," Hermione declared arrogantly.

The Death Eater's face twisted behind the mask.

"Do you realize that you are impersonating Hermione Granger, Potter's slut? What'd you do with her?"

"Stunned her," Hermione answered nonchalantly. Her parents were slowly backing up.

This was nearly ridiculous - she was having a conversation with a Death Eater, and the battle was still waging around them. Crucio seems to be a particular favourite, she noted.

"Damn it," the Death Eater exclaimed. "I'm not even going to bother. Lucius can deal with you. Just stay out of the way and within five feet of me, or he'll have my head and Narcissa will probably poison my wife...."

Hermione sneered, which passed for a yes. That settled the Death Eater turned to her parents.

The murder was remarkably brief. The Avada Kedavra, two in a quick succession, accompanied by a rush of air and flash of green light, and it was finished, the Death Eater moving on to the three-year-old hiding under the pew.

Staring at her mother and father's frozen, lifeless faces, she heard the boy's screams as the Scalping Hex was cast, and then a "Silencio!" to quiet his shrieks. He coughed and spat blood, still wailing his throat raw under the cover of the spell.

No, it could have been much worse, Hermione thought with a detached numbness. She bit down hard on the inside of her cheek as a tight bind of loss and sorrow bloomed in her chest.

Eventually, after her Death Eater mowed his way through two aisles of horrified Muggle men, women, and children, the screams started dying down, and individual cries could be heard. Mostly from the teenage girls, and some not teenage, who had been allowed to live a bit longer as amusement for Voldemort's disciples.

Having completed his orders, Lucius Malfoy swept along the altar, and scanned the church. When he saw Hermione, his face lit up with a predatory glee.

Perhaps to demonstrate his superiority over her, or just to frighten her, he Apparated to stand directly behind her, angled face peering over her shoulder into her face. She shifted her shoulder, unintentionally turning her face more towards his in an effort to get away from him.

"Hermione Granger," he breathed. "I nearly had you in the Department of Mysteries. Dolohov will be quite jealous of my good fortune."

Nearly tripping over the leg of her dead father, still bound by thick cords, she kicked his leg aside with apparent disdain, and turned to face Lucius Malfoy head on.

"Don't be ridiculous, father," Hermione scoffed, crossing her arms sulkily. "I'm Draco."

Lucius looked at her suspiciously, then narrowed his eyes, and cuffed her. "Idiot! I told you not to come. Especially impersonating Hermione Granger."

"But -" Hermione protested. She felt oddly honoured that he had her so high on his kill list.

"Give me your hand, Draco," Lucius ordered.

"Why?" Hermione responded arrogantly.

Lucius grabbed her hand, turning it palm up, and held it tightly as he gripped a knife in his left hand. It was encrusted with gore.

He slit it along her palm, and blood welled up in the cut. Re-sheathing the dagger, he took his seal ring and pressed it into the wound.

Hermione felt a burning sensation, growing stronger, then hotter, until it was searing into her skin. She tried to wriggle her hand away, and cried out, but Lucius kept the grip on her wrist.

He lifted his ring away. Bringing his face close to hers, he said, "Hello, Granger. Did you think you could impersonate Draco that easily? Blood calls to blood," he added, flashing the bloodied ring in her direction.

She said nothing. So I lived a little longer, she thought. Not much...I could at least have distracted the Death Eater from my parents for awhile.

Still smirking disconcertedly, Lucius nodded to a Death Eater who had come up behind Hermione, waiting for the order to Disapparate. As loud cracks filled the air, he gripped both her wrists, bent forward, and kissed her, disapparating with her...

...Into his place amongst a circle grouped around an unnaturally tall, thin, and pale man. Laughs echoed around the circle and even a smattering of applause as he bit her lip, the blood running into both their mouths.

He finally shoved her away, into the circle.

Hermione fell to the ground, landing hard on a stone. She licked away the blood on her lip, and, shaking slightly, stood.

The circle formed by a ring of black robes and silver faces was closed. She thought of the known Death Eaters. There were many more here then that number. This was not simply the Inner Circle - Voldemort had summoned his entire corps.

Within the outer ring was a semi-circle of about twenty individuals, kneeling directly before the Dark Lord, murmuring to him.

The Death Eaters who attacked the church? The Inner Circle? Spies? Hermione wondered.

She turned around. There were several others, who, like herself, had been brought back. A dying woman, aged to her late twenties, lying on the ground, and hallucinating. A boy who seemed to be in shock, doubtless dying as well. Herself, and another girl who seemed to be about her age, perhaps eight yards away. She was crouched on the ground, with her back to Hermione.

Hermione stepped towards her, and when the ranks remained as they were, walked over to her and knelt beside her.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked the girl.

The girl's face turned.

It was Ginny.

She looked up at Hermione. Her face was bruised, and when she spoke, her voice was raspy and forced. Something had happened to her throat, and she coughed, clearing her throat before repeating her words in a less garbled voice.

"The attacked Diagon Alley," Ginny said, as Hermione stared back at her in shock. "The Floo Network was shut down, and the Apparation points were dismantled. A few people flew out, but the brooms have anti-theft spells and they were thrown off - it only added to the confusion really."

"They attacked Diagon Alley?" Hermione echoed.

Ginny nodded, brushing dirty, knotted and bloody hair out of her face. "It was sudden, and there were so many. Maybe forty, all throwing Dark Curses around. They Apparated in, except for a few who had been under Invisibility Cloaks and preparing for the attack.

"It was too sudden, and no one had a chance to alert the Aurors. It was a massacre," Ginny finished, still raspy and whispering.

"Your brother, your mother - Ginny, what, who -" Hermione asked, desperately needing to know who had died.

"I was there alone. I was supposed to meet a friend," Ginny answered.

"Who?" Hermione asked.

"Dean," Ginny replied. "He didn't show."

Hermione was torn between relief and pity for Ginny. Her family was safe at least, that was more then she could say for her mother and father. But she knew intuitively that soon enough a Weasley would glance at their clock and that Ginny's hand would be pointed unmistakably at "In Mortal Peril".

"What happened to you?" Ginny asked, again coughing up blood, briefly gasping for breath.

"They attacked my church. It was in the middle of Mass. There wasn't a chance for anyone to get out," Hermione explained flatly.

"Your parents...."

"Dead. They pretended I was a Death Eater who hadn't changed back from Polyjuice to try and save me. Lucius Malfoy recognized me though, and knew I wasn't Draco," Hermione elaborated.

"I'm sorry," Ginny consoled softly.

Hermione simply nodded. "So am I. It appears that I might as well have died with them."

Ginny didn't say anything. She knew that being taken captive by the Death Eaters, especially personally so by Lucius Malfoy, was worse then a quick death by Avada Kedavra.

There was rustling behind them. Hermione and Ginny stood, and turned. The semi-circle had risen, and resumed their positions in the outer ring. Voldemort faced the captives his Death Eaters had brought.

The boy who had been taken was immobile and silent, clearly dead. The woman was convulsing, seemingly in some sort of fit. Voldemort waved a hand at one of his followers, who cast a quick killing curse, and her spasms ceased.

"So," he hissed. "It appears that I have two highly important guests with me tonight. Miss Ginevra Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger. I must thank Lucius and Stephen Jugson for performing their duties so excellently. They will be duly rewarded," He added, addressing the larger group. The two men bowed their heads, murmuring, "Thank you, my lord," and "If it pleases my lord."

Voldemort stepped closer, sliding his fingers up and down his wand, seemingly in thought. His white, pointed face rejected the darkness, seeming to float above the black robes swathing its owner's figure. Red eyes glittered in the face, and narrowed as they settled on Ginny.

"I remember you, Ginevra," he said quietly, venomously. "I punished Lucius harshly for slipping you my diary without my consent or knowledge. It was most interesting, however. My fifteen year old self may have remained within the pages and boundaries of the diary, but our magical tie remained. When he acted, I could not see it, but it appeared to me as though it had happened forty years ago.

"You were so trusting, so patient, so affectionate and intelligent and impassioned. The later I could see in the Chamber; even as you were dying, I could see remnants of fire and spark. You saw my power over you, and when you realized it, you defied me. I wonder if you still possess that bravery tonight."

"Go to hell, Tom," Ginny answered, her voice cracking.

Voldemort smiled, despite her deliberate use of his name. "So you do." He walked even closer. "Do you know what I've wanted to do to you, Ginevra? I have no capacity to love. But hate is a viable emotion as well, and you have plagued me with it." He finished the last sentence with a hiss.

Grabbing Ginny's arm, he yanked her towards him, snake-like features prominent now in his closer proximity to her body. "I have hated you, and you have disturbed me in my waking hours. You have distracted me - from goals, from logistics, even from the hate I nurture for others." He laughed, high, thin, shrieking and cold.

"I'm not afraid of you, Tom," Ginny answered bravely in her broken tones.

"I'm sure you're not," Voldemort said. "But that isn't necessary."

He brought his face very close to hers, the glowing red eyes boring straight into hers as she daringly and purposefully looked back into them. Ginny could feel the wand wedging lightly into the hollow of her throat. In the darkness, his eyes were the only light around, and they glared so that a halo developed around her vision, until all she could see was the red and the interior black pupils....

"Avada Kedavra."

It was quiet enough that Hermione found it difficult to hear, but the rushing sound and flash of green light were explanation enough. Ginny slumped in Voldemort's arms, and he let her slide to the ground.

"Ginny!" Hermione shrieked.

Voldemort cried, "Incendio!" and her friend's body burnt to ash, a few gleaming pieces of bone still visible in the pile of grey that began to blow gently across the ground. A melted gold chain clung to a piece of grass, the engraving dissolved, a strand of gleaming red hair caught in it.

Hermione gasped, unable to catch her breath, feeling a hard bubble of pain and sorrow ramming up her throat. Her eyes burned, and black sparks flitted in her vision. She felt sick, stomach turning within her. Falling on her hands and knees she vomited, choking and sobbing as she did.

But, as before, shock set in, and the danger around her threw her mind and instincts into full alert.

Voldemort looked down at her, waiting for Hermione to stand again, which she did.

He took a deep breath, and slowly let it out, contemplating the girl before him.

He's grown more human, Hermione thought with surprise, her legs still shaking. He wouldn't have ever done that before.

Humanity means he can die.

Voldemort's thin lips spread in an obscenely cruel smile. "Not tonight, Miss Granger."

Occlumency, Hermione recognized with distress. I can't let him look in my eyes.

She looked away, towards the ranks of black robed Death Eaters, their white masks turned to the scene.

"Potter's Mudblood whore," he mused. "Now in my possession. I am quite unsure what to do with you, Miss Granger. You are an unexpected gift tonight, more so then your late friend."

Hermione opened her mouth, angry at Voldemort's words, but she didn't know what to say, so she just shook her head slowly, trying to back away from the words and horror.

"Oh, I have given thought to you often, Miss Granger. Antonin Dolohov has a personal grudge with you, it would seem."

A Death Eater towards the far end of the circle shifted, one who had knelt before the Dark Lord earlier.

Voldemort laughed sharply again. "No, Antonin, I cannot allow you to kill her now."

He beckoned Hermione closer with his wand, and she felt her feet take small, unwilling steps towards him.

"I don't believe you've been properly introduced to my army," he said, sweeping a hand at the circle. "Miss Granger, Mr. Stephen Jugson, Mr. Christopher Mulciber, Mrs. Bellatrix Lestrange, Mr. Walden Macnair, Mr. Ian O'Brien...."

The list went on, a dizzying spread of names, stated clearly, each one inclining his head towards their Lord with their mention.

"And of course, you already know Mr. Lucius Malfoy," Voldemort commented.

Again the slight laughter wafting through the cloaked figures.

"And now, to business." With that finality, Voldemort lifted his wand and cast the Cruciatus, spindly fingers holding his wand aloft and direct on Hermione.

She watched the red beam zing towards her, and strike her in the stomach. Then the pain radiating from the site, throughout her body, unrelenting wave upon wave of it, pounding her and she opened her mouth in a scream as it ripped through her arms legs face back blinding, slicing, stabbing, burning, freezing, pure and undiluted agony.

Then it was gone, and her muscles ached in the aftermath, lungs smarting with each breath. Finding herself on the ground, she tried to stand, but found her legs were too cramped to support her, and her arms quivering. So she laid there, cheek on the cool grass, mind shoving back the memory of anguish.

"Now Miss Granger," Voldemort admonished. "You are a Gryffindor; this cannot be all the fight you have left."

She felt another spell hit her, this one spreading coolness through her limbs and torso, melting away the pain. Trying to stand again, she found she could.

"Much better," Voldemort agreed. "Has Harry Potter told you the prophecy yet?"

Hermione looked back at him, confusion tilting her features. She opened her mouth to speak, but Voldemort cut her short.

"Too slow...." He cast another Cruciatus, this one too brief for her to begin to scream. The beginning of her shriek lumped with the pain in her throat, and she swallowed hard.

"New question - is Severus Snape a spy?"

"No," Hermione answered quickly, before he had a chance to lift his wand.

"Afraid, are we?" Voldemort replied, obviously amused.

Hermione felt anger rush into her again, and looked directly at him. She didn't yell, but calmly and loudly said, "I don't know anything. You might as well kill me."

"No, that would be a waste," Voldemort disputed. "You are a powerful witch, albeit a Mudblood. Miss Granger, how much do you know about the Dark Arts?" The last two words were spoken with near reverence, in a prolonged hiss.

"They are spells cast with malicious intent, with no other use then to harm," Hermione spat back. "The tools of weak and power hungry wizards lacking cause for pride or morality."

"No need to quote Waffling at me, Miss Granger. I know him quite well. But your education in such matters has been unfortunately one-sided thus far.

"Are you aware of a condition known as Vicissitude Vires? It refers to a state in which a wizard or witch's magical power, formerly meant for a particular type of magic, is altered to better suit another. Yes, magical ability varies, as well as the field in which the magic is strongest," Voldemort asserted, at Hermione's evident disbelief.

"While it is often determined early in a wizard's life, before they even begin to commonly work spells, it sometimes occurs later, especially in particularly powerful wizards. And - this revelation is new knowledge even to me - in Muggleborns.

"Your magic is at this stage, Miss Granger. It is changing, waiting to be formed with your intent. Or, with the intent of others. Once your magic has been moulded to a particular skill, you will be very powerful in that area only, while perhaps below average or weaker in others. A price paid for power, and the reason for the careful schooling of magical children," he finished.

There was a pause, as Hermione reflected on what he had told her.

"You want to shape my magic. To the Dark Arts," Hermione said, understanding now.

"Precisely," Voldemort answered.