Sleeping Dragons

Chapter Eight: Another Day

By Gemini

I finished outlining the details of the Gringotts break-in to the other teams, and they sat in amazed silence until I finished. I concluded with, “If what I'm assuming about my plan is correct, then we'll need to move very quickly.”

“You've made a brilliant observation, Hermione,” remarked Dumbledore, nodding. He stood to join me at the podium. “We are all in a very awkward situation here, my friends. An old enemy is about to return, hard as it may be to believe.”

“You've got that right,” mumbled someone in the front row.

“As Hermione said,” continued Dumbledore, “we'll have to move quickly.” His eyes had a hint of that feral, glittering quality that seemed strangely out of place yet perfect for him. “We must not let Lucius succeed. There will be sacrifices and hard work involved, but we must do everything in our power to stop him.”

I was standing off to the side, watching Dumbledore as he spoke. When I turned to look at the Agents, I knew that they agreed with him wholeheartedly. “Alright everyone, up please,” he said. “To the side walls, if you may.”

Dumbledore withdrew his wand from his robes and cast a circle in the air. A round table, larger yet similar to the ones distributed around the estate, appeared and plunked itself down in the center of the room.

It was a beautiful oak table, but there was something different about it from the others. On the outer ring was a thick band split into three equal parts of different colours: red, blue, and green. Another thick yellow band was placed inside the tri-coloured band. I remembered my blue identification card, and Ron's green one. Then I knew that Harry's would be red -- the colour of Gryffindor, the colour of courage and determination.

I took my spot at the blue section between Cho and Remus as part of the intelligence team. Ron sat by Marcy in the strategy team. Draco looked a bit unsure of where to sit at first, but he took the spot on the other side of Ron; I was glad to see that they were at least being civil with each other. Nervously, I waited for the others to settle down.

Dumbledore took a position in the red section flanked by Harry and Sirius on either side. “You may have all guessed by now about the three colours around the table. For those former Hufflepuffs who may feel a bit cheated -- the yellow band that accompanies the outer band is for unwavering loyalty, not only to me, but to your fellow Agents, your friends.”

A tense silence followed; we were unsure of what to say. I'm certain we all felt a moment of gratefulness when Justin Finch-Fletchley quietly joked, “Go Hufflepuffs!” I knew that none of us, not even Justin, were in the mood for any fun and games, but all the same we were glad for a break in the tension.

“Indeed,” remarked Dumbledore, letting his jovial self return for just a second. “We must never forget that this is what we need to honour: our friendships, our bonds, our trust in each other... We must persevere, and I expect all of you to commit yourselves to the upcoming task.” Everyone at the table gave a sign of agreement -- a soft murmur or a slight nod of the head.

“Now,” he continued, “let us begin.”

For the rest of the grueling afternoon, we planned, plotted and strategized. The rest of the intelligence team and I provided the facts while strategy would point out flaws and inconsistencies. The red practical team made sure we'd be able to pull off our ideas, assigning roles for each Agent. I would be playing a pivotal part.

“Hermione, are you absolutely sure this is going to work?” asked Harry sharply. The other Agents fell quiet.

I nodded. “I'm certain.” His eyes held the concerned look of a friend who's known you over ten years, and wants to make sure he'll be able to know you for another ten. I tore my gaze away from him to look at Ron. He held even more concern in his eyes than Harry did.

“Hermione,” he said softly, “please reconsider.” The other Agents, including Dumbledore, instantly averted their eyes towards the ceiling or their twiddling thumbs.

“Ron,” I began, “don't worry about me. I know what I'm doing.” I wanted to say more, but my words would hardly be suitable at a table of over thirty Agents and one blonde outsider. “Please, just... trust me.” He nodded, though hesitantly. I wanted to go over to him, to touch his face and hold his hand. We were so close, yet so far, separated by the vastness of the table in our midst.

During our exchange, Remus had pulled out a small, complicated pocketwatch. After he made sure Ron and I had nothing more to say (not in front of the others, at least), he announced, “It's time.” We began to put our preparations together. Maybe I could talk to Ron alone before we left for our mission.

I knew we were prepared. I knew we were ready. I knew we could win. But I still felt like crawling into a hole and hiding in hopes that if I couldn't see Voldemort, maybe he couldn't see me.

* * *

“Wands ready,” instructed Sirius. He and his team, which consisted of half of the Agents, stood on the opposite side of the room while I was by Remus and the other half of the Agents.

“Wands ready,” repeated Remus to us. I took hold of my wand from its secured holder in my robes and saw the others do the same.

As according to plan, Sirius' team, which included Harry and Draco, left first. “Disapparate on three. One, two, three...” The fifteen or so Agents disappeared from the room instantly, and they would be Apparating close to Stonehenge.

Remus turned to me and asked, “Are you prepared?”

I nodded. “I have it with me.” I placed my hand in Ron's to give it a reassuring squeeze. I didn't get that chance to talk to him privately after all.

Ron bent over to whisper in my ear, “Be careful when we get there.” I nodded and locked eyes with him.

“Disapparate on three. One, two, three...” I concentrated on taking myself from the room at the U.A.A. to Callanish in Scotland. I felt a familiar pull as I Apparated about half a kilometre outside of Callanish. It was dusk, and I had to squint a little to see our destination.

The beautiful stone pillars rose in a large cross, surrounding what resembled an alter in the centre. The moonlight spilled over the pillars, throwing strange shadows onto the ground. Standing at the altar was a figure in black robes and a hood, almost invisible from the settling darkness. I knew it was Lucius Malfoy.

Other dark figures stood around Lucius. All were wearing black robes, and dark hoods so we couldn't see their faces. Death Eater apparel -- practicality over style. The dark hoods gave me chills. About twenty of the figures were gathered around the stone circle -- any more and we'd be in trouble.

Remus grabbed my arm and urgently said to me, “Hermione, go to Stonehenge. Now. And remember the plan for when you come back.” Oh, I remembered the plan alright; it was all I could think about.

I didn't want to leave Ron, but I followed Remus' orders without a second thought. As I Disapparated away, I felt Ron's hand slip away from my own.

In the Stonehenge circle, Sirius was pacing as the rest of his team stood watching. When I Apparated in, he instantly stopped and ran over to grab me by my shoulders. Wasting no time, I blurted out, “Callanish! They're all at Callanish.”

“Damn! Alright team, let's move!” His voice was like a bark as Harry, Draco and the others stood to attention. Without another word, they had all Disapparated away, leaving me in solitude.

A few seconds after they left, I took a spot by one of the gigantic stone pillars, leaning against the smooth, cool rock. I began to count to myself.

One... Two... Three...

I slid down the rock until I was crouched on the ground. There was no one with me to take care of me, and I wasn't with the others to take care of them.

Ten... Eleven... Twelve...

I wondered how Draco was, fighting his own father. But he probably didn't think of Lucius as his father anymore. Biological, maybe, but not a true father. Lucius deserved a good curse in the rear, and I sincerely hoped Draco was the one who would cast it. And I hoped he was alright. He had just gotten his life back. He deserved to live it.

Twenty-six... Twenty-seven... Twenty-eight...

And Dumbledore. Dear, old Dumbledore. He had stayed behind, too old for the fighting and dueling. Though a healthy wizard in many aspects, he didn't consider himself well enough to duel anymore. He said he'd had enough vanquishing evil to last him for the rest of his life. So instead, he taught us, his Agents, to take his place, to learn the tricks of the trade. And we were more than willing to fight for him, after all that he'd done for us.

Sixty-four... Sixty-five... Sixty-six...

Harry. Poor Harry. Always fighting, never resting. He was and will always be The Boy Who Lived. I wished he could just stop and take a break. Especially since he's engaged to Ginny. On the night before we graduated from Hogwarts, Harry, Ron and I had taken the invisibility cloak and snuck up onto the Astronomy tower. There, we sat for hours until the light of dawn appeared. And it was there that Harry confided in us that he wished he wasn't so confused about his life. On one hand, he wanted to eliminate all Dark Wizards for what had happened to his parents. On the other hand, he had a feeling his parents would have wanted him to life his life normally. But he will always be The Boy Who Lived.

102... 103... 104...

Every time I'm apart from Ron, I always feel a little better knowing where he is or what he's doing. I try not to pry, of course. I've learned to keep my comments to myself, and just trust him. And sitting alone in Stonehenge made me wish I hadn't accepted the main task after all. It was driving me crazy, not being able to see what was happening to Ron. Is he winning? Is he losing? Is he hurt? Will he make it?

139... 140... 141...

Will I make it? I've had first hand experience in staying alive ever since I was eleven. Ever since I was six, even, if you count that period of time where I enjoyed crossing roads without looking both ways, much to my mum's horror. But I've known about Voldemort for fourteen years, and had a few encounters with him myself. I'll never forget the feeling I had when Harry stepped into Tom Riddle's house. Despair. Fear. And shame, for not going in myself. I was the one who read the books. I was the one who got the information. But Ron and Harry were the ones who dueled. I always felt like a hindrance to them. My books couldn't teach me how. They were written by people who dueled for sport. I dueled to survive. Ron was sparked by his emotions, and Harry was just a natural talent, but I... I had to work at it, hard. And sitting in Stonehenge, I knew it was finally my turn.

178... 179... 180.

I brought myself to my feet. Three minutes was what we had agreed upon during our planning. I did a quick check to make sure I still had everything I need to defeat Lucius. Since there was nothing else left to hold me back, I Disapparated from Stonehenge, Apparating directly to the altar at Callanish. My first impression of the scene around me was chaos. Utter chaos.

The moonlight was bright enough for me to size up the situation, and so were the small bursts of green lights from Death Eater wands. A Death Eater lay face up by my feet. Two Agents were propped against the altar at odd angles, obviously thrown there by force. I felt an arm go around my neck but before I could do anything, there was a blast and the Death Eater was knocked out. I turned to see Sirius holding his wand out. He nodded at me. “Do your job.” And then turned away to help out Justin, who was struggling against two Death Eaters. As I stepped backward to the altar, Justin was knocked down and Sirius had tackled the two Death Eaters with Susan's help. Cries of Avada Kedavra were being tossed out carelessly, and I hoped that my comrades were able to dodge them.

Laid out on the altar was Voldemort's burnt body, barely recognizable. I could make out the look on his face: anger and rage. Even in defeat, he didn't know when to give up. But I put my feelings and memories aside to assess the altar. Beside the body were bottles, vials, and various objects that I recognized from my list in the research. The bottles were empty and the various objects looked used, worn away from magic. The vial was still full. It was all going according to plan.

I looked about me to make sure the Death Eaters were occupied, and spotted Ron. He and Draco were working together against Lucius, whose back was to me. Quickly, from my robes, I grabbed the vial that I had so preciously guarded, and replaced the one on the altar with my own. I pocketed Slytherin's blood, and ran, dodging bodies, out of the circle to give the signal that the deed was done.

As loud as I could, I bellowed out, “Lemon drops!” The code was Dumbledore's suggestion. The Death Eaters, whose hoods had been thrown back, paused for a second in confusion as to what I had just said. The other Agents took the time to deliver a final blow, and then ran to the outer ring of the circle. Among the bodies that remained were Justin, Ella, and.... Ron. The moonlight poured over his body, lying on the ground.

“Ron?” I cried. He lifted his head weakly and shook his head at me. It took the combined strength of Cho and Draco to hold me back from running to him. Cho cried into my ear, “He's alright, he's been Stunned.”

To the Death Eaters, it looked like we were regrouping, running away. They quickly gathered themselves together and went to stand by the altar. Lucius was the quickest. He grabbed the vial and poured its contents into what was left of Voldemort's mouth.

Lucius threw the empty vial away where it crashed into a pillar and broke. “Finally,” he rasped. “You're helpless now.”

We huddled together, clutching hands and holding each other. Draco stood by the side, his arms hanging limply by his sides. Harry came over to me, put an arm around me, and we stood close together, keeping any eye on Ron and also the present task at hand. Solemnly, we watched as Voldemort's body began to heal itself. The black skin turned paler, and there were wispy golden lines drawing itself down the body. A golden mist formed, and the Death Eaters, except Lucius, drew back from the body.

Lucius stayed close to Voldemort. His eyes were alive, dancing with delight as Voldemort's skin returned to a pale, white colour. Abnormal by another means, but a sure sign of life returning to Voldemort.

A hand twitched. I gripped Harry's arm tighter. It had to have worked. It must.

He sat up slowly, red eyes narrowed, the look of rage still there. The golden haze shimmered around his body. Stepping off the altar, he glanced at the Death Eaters, then at us, and back at Lucius. “Explain.” The voice was just as I remembered - cold and devoid of life.

“Master,” Lucius murmured, bowing. The others followed. “Master, you were...” But he trailed off. And I smiled.

Voldemort had begun to shake; the golden mist contracted itself into his body, disappearing from sight. He looked at Lucius again. “Explain!”

Before Lucius could say a word, Voldemort had caught sight of Harry. “You!” He held out his right hand, palm up, to the Death Eaters. He waited until some poor wizard sacrificed his wand to the hand. He held it up to his eyes, inspecting it closely. “It'll do,” he said, coldly.

He raised his wand in our general direction. I clutched Harry tighter, glad that Ron was on the ground and out of the way. Ron was staring at us with wide eyes and a look of despair.

And that's when my plan worked.

Before Voldemort could even start uttering a spell, golden streaks began to shoot out of his body. They weaved like thread around the stone pillars, then did something extraordinary. The golden threads came over to us, and condensed into what could only be described as a ball of light. It floated in front of Harry, as if to size him up, then split again and streaked into the night sky, lighting up Callanish better than the moon was.

Lucius stared at Voldemort's limp body which lay on the ground. Slowly, seething, he raised his head to stare at us. “What,” he asked through clenched teeth, “has just happened?” If looks could kill...

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the familiar vial. Lucius' face twisted in confusion and hate. Feeling rejuvenated and more confident, I gave him a jaunty grin. “This is Slytherin's blood,” I explained. “That was Gryffindor's. And you know the two don't mix.”

While Lucius and the rest of the Death Eaters mulled over the new information, we took our chance, shouting, “Expelliarmus!” Then, “Envincium!” Thick ropes shot out of our wand toward the Death Eaters as their wands floated in our direction.

Remus, Sirius, and the rest of the Agents ran over to make sure the Death Eaters were properly bound, and I quickly ran to Ron, Harry following close behind.

“Are you alright? What happened? Can you stand?” I overloaded Ron with questions as I flung myself at him. Seeing that he was lying on the ground, I might have flung myself a little too harsh.

“Ow! Hermione, I love you and I'm glad you're alright, but geroff!” I recollected myself as Harry stood, snickering. Together, we helped Ron to his feet.

“I'm fine, I was just Stunned. And after you gave the signal, I couldn't get up so I just played dead for a bit.” I hugged him hard, but remembered my previous mistake, and loosened my death grip.

“I'm so glad,” I said, my voice muffled from me speaking into his chest. Finally, I let go so Harry could have his moment too. None of that manly backslapping either, Harry put Ron into a full bear hug.

Harry took one of Ron's arms to sling around his shoulder, while I took the other. Since I was shorter, I wasn't much of a help, but I could tell Ron didn't care.

Together, we walked to where the rest of the Agents were gathered, waiting, smiling... Lucius and the rest of the Death Eaters were placed in full body-binds. Voldemort lay still on the ground. It was over.

Wait.

As Harry, Ron and I stepped past the lifeless body, I noticed a small movement out of the corner of my eye. Voldemort's pale hand. Frowning, I tugged on Ron's arm.

“Stop, something's wrong.” The Agents and Death Eaters watched closely as I let go of Ron and took a tentative step toward Voldemort's body, which had begun to twitch and turn.

I kneeled beside the cold body, and leaned closer. Reaching out my hand, I let it hover carefully over his face.

“Hermione...” Sirius' voice held a warning tone. “What are you doing?” He and Remus stepped forward, but it was too late.

Voldemort's eyes shot open.

Out of instinct, I let out a small cry and stumbled backward.

“Avada Kedavra,” he hissed, quickly drawing his wand on me. His bloodshot eyes bore into mine.

“No!” bellowed Ron. He lunged forward out of Harry's grip and threw himself on me as I was blinded by the brilliant green light. The rest of the Agents tried to Stun Voldemort.

I hit the ground but could feel no pain. Ron lay sprawled across me, his face buried in my neck. I lightly turned my head and saw Harry.

He had collapsed to his knees, frozen. His ashen face held a look of shock, and his normally glittering green eyes stared as if he was in a trance.

I felt a little hazy when I tried to push Ron away. Surprisingly, I sat up easily and managed to stand up without wobbling.

The other Agents had restrained Voldemort, who looked enraged, in a sullen sort of way. But Sirius was staring at me, and Harry, looking lost. Remus' face was buried in his hands. And Cho was openly crying. Suddenly, thinking of Ron, I spun around to make sure he was alright. What I saw made me freeze.

Ron was laid, sobbing, over a body.

I stepped closer, slowly. Each step was like lightly flying. I bent nearer to see the body Ron was so preciously clutching. I recoiled from confusion.

It was me.