Ordinary People

Not every action has an equal and opposite reaction---

It was Ron who recovered first, surprisingly. All Hermione could do was replay that moment in her head over and over, watching Harry reach into the box and wanting to tear his hand away but doing nothing. She stood, frozen in place, frozen in time, watching herself fail again and again.

"Hermione?" Ron asked quietly, interrupting her self-castigation.

She blinked. "We should go get Dumbledore," she finally said. "He'll know what to do."

And with that, they both snapped to attention, running out of the Common Room and through the corridors, panting side-by-side as they dashed to the headmaster's office.

Ron regarded the stone gargoyle with dismay. "We don't know the password," he said hopelessly.

"Maybe he'll hear us if we shout," she replied, still gasping to breathe.

They began yelling at the gargoyle, panic apparent in their voices. "Headmaster, please! We don't know the password," Ron cried.

"It's about Harry!" she shouted shrilly. "Please, sir!"

After a few moments, the gargoyle faded, revealing a mildly-concerned looking Dumbledore. "What is it, children?" he asked, adjusting his glasses on his nose.

"Harry's gone!" Ron said. "He was taken ... a Portkey, must have been."

Dumbledore's eyes widened a tiny bit. "Taken?"

Nodding, Hermione tugged at his sleeve. "Please, headmaster, what do we do? He just disappeared." It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him about the puzzle box, but she realized in the last minute that it might not be a particularly prudent move on her part. Not only might it implicate Severus unfairly, but it would also pose the next question of how she knew that it was his box in the first place.

The headmaster remained calm. "Go back to your Common Room," he finally said. "I will call a meeting. And above all, don't worry."

Exchanging a tense glance, Hermione and Ron both shuffled their feet minutely. "But, Professor--" Ron began.

He held up a single hand, silencing the agitated boy. "Mr. Weasley, there is nothing you can do at the moment. Please, do as I say."

Reluctantly, slowly, they left Dumbledore standing in the hallway, walking back to their Common Room with sullen eyes. "I hate this!" Ron growled. "I feel so ... so useless."

Hermione agreed with him--she was nearly shaking with her frustration. "Harry's alone," she said roughly.

"I suppose Dumbledore's right, though," he said, glaring at the flagstones as if they were personally responsible for Harry's disappearance. "What can we do?"

Surprised at his easy acquiescence, Hermione told herself that he was right. Maybe if she repeated it several times, she would start to believe herself. "I just feel like we ought to be doing something," she admitted.

"Exploding Snap?" he asked with a small grin.

She frowned. "Please, Ron, don't make any jokes right now. I don't think I can take it."

"I wasn't joking," he replied mildly, wrapping an arm around her shoulder comfortingly. "It's something to do, isn't it?"

Studying the Fat Lady despondently, Hermione couldn't help but feel as if there was something she'd forgotten. Or missed. Something that would help Harry.

Maybe taking her thoughts off it would bring it to mind quicker, she reflected silently. "I'd rather play chess," she told him.

"I believe I can accommodate you, in that case," he said, squeezing her shoulder one last time and then turning to the portrait himself. "Ursa Minor."

They climbed through the hole awkwardly, both feeling the absence of their usual third party acutely. Hermione stared at the empty Common Room despondently, looking at the couple of Chocolate Frogs Ron had previously scattered on the sofa and feeling tears prickle at her eyes. She would not cry, she told herself stubbornly.

Displaying an uncanny amount of intuition, Ron bumped her shoulder playfully with his. "Aw, Hermione, you know as well as I do that Harry's got more lives than a cat. If anyone will get through whatever he's going through right now alive, it'll be him."

"Yeah," she replied rustily. "I think I'd really like to play chess right now."

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The faces were tense as the professors crowded into Dumbledore's office. While no official announcement had been made yet as to the reason for the sudden meeting, Severus assumed that everyone else had drawn the same conclusions he had. There was only one reason for them to be here.

Potter. Something had happened to the boy--Voldemort had finally made his move.

Sighing, he glared hard as Flitwick unintentionally shoved his elbow into Severus' gut. "Sorry, Severus," Flitwick said apologetically, once he'd realized who he'd hit.

"I'll live," he replied, rubbing the tender spot ruefully.

Finally, Sprout bustled into the room, apologizing for her tardiness, and Dumbledore stood up to greet her, chair scraping against the stones in the sudden silence.

McGonagall squinted at the headmaster shrewdly. "What's happened, Albus?" she asked. "Is it Potter?"

"Yes, Minerva," Dumbledore replied with a single jerk of his head. "Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley informed me about an hour ago that somehow Harry got his hands on a Portkey and has left the grounds."

"What do we do, then?" Severus asked tersely, not wanting to draw this out any longer than absolutely necessary.

Dumbledore was silent, gazing at him with sadness in his eyes. The rest of the professors were solemn as well.

And Severus realized their intentions with a start. "You're not going after him?" he asked incredulously. "You're just abandoning Potter to his fate?"

"There is nothing to be done, Severus," Dumbledore said gently. "We must simply wait for Harry to return."

Coldly furious, Severus put a hand to his temple, rubbing fiercely. "And what if Potter doesn't return?"

Several professors coughed a bit, and he could hear their shoes scuffling against the floor. The headmaster was frowning. "This is not our battle to fight," he said in a stern tone. "This is for Harry Potter alone."

"He is a seventeen year old child!" Severus cried in agitation. "You've sent a little boy into the clutches of the devil, Albus. Don't you realize that?"

"Do you somehow think that I'm happy with my decision?" Dumbledore asked sharply, an undercurrent of anger rising suddenly in his tone. "Do you think I wanted it to happen this way? Severus, we don't even know where they are."

He clenched his teeth. "We can search. There's the manor and the shack on the moor and ..."

"Severus," he began in a soft voice, laying a gentle hand on Severus' tense shoulder, "Severus, what do you think we would find if we happened to stumble across their hiding place?"

"I don't like it," Severus spat. "I wouldn't even abandon Lucius Malfoy to You-Know-Who's fury, much less a child."

"It's a commendable impulse, my boy," Dumbledore said. "But you must also be realistic--our hands are well and truly tied."

Lowering his head, Severus stared at his fingernails. "Respectfully, Albus, I disagree. But I will respect your opinion."

"Good," he said as cheerfully as he could manage given the circumstances. "Now, I suggest that we continue our patrols as usual tonight and make sure the students know as little as possible. Try and get some sleep, everyone."

"Perhaps we ought to double up on patrols," Flitwick suggested hesitantly. "When Mr. Potter comes back to the castle, we'll want to find him as quickly as we can."

McGonagall nodded vigorously. "I agree. We need to keep an eye out for Potter's return. Three people to each shift?"

"Who's on already? I know I'm supposed to take an early patrol," he replied.

"You, Minerva, Ceres, and I were scheduled for tonight," Dumbledore told Flitwick.

"I can take an early patrol," Severus said quickly, it occurring to him suddenly that Hermione might want to see him later in the evening.

"Right," Dumbledore said. "That leaves seven slots. Well, six, as I know Hagrid will want to take one. Who else?"

In the end, Dumbledore had to take on an extra shift for everything to even out--no one wanted to ask Trelawney to come down from her tower and patrol the grounds. She hadn't even bothered to come to the meeting, anyway. McGonagall also suggested that Madam Pomfrey be alerted in the Infirmary, and with that, Dumbledore firmly dismissed everyone from his office.

Making his way back to his quarters, sneering at the few students celebrating the end of final exams in the hallways, Severus flopped down in a chair with a heavy sigh. That was that--Potter was on his own, by Dumbledore's command. He hoped fervently that the faith the headmaster was putting in the child was warranted. He also hoped fervently that Hermione was managing to cope with her friend's disappearance. But he couldn't very well go poke his head into Gryffindor Tower and ask how she was. Perhaps she would come to him later.

With a glance at his clock, Severus noted that he only had thirty minutes until his patrol shift began. It would give him something to do, at least. And maybe he could offer to take the part of the castle that included Gryffindor Tower. That might make him feel better.

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"Mate," Ron said blandly as Hermione tipped her king over in defeat. "You know, love, you're lousy at chess for someone who's supposed to be so brilliant. That's the third game you've lost in less than four hours."

"Sorry," she replied. "I'm not concentrating very well, am I?"

"Well, to be fair, I'm not either," he said. "I ought to have put you in mate about eight turns ago, but I didn't notice my rook placement until just now."

She grinned wryly. "That makes me feel so much better, Ron. Even when you're distracted, you still trounce me."

"Yeah, but I think you're more distracted than I am right now," he said. "What is it, Hermione?"

Shaking her head, she frowned at the king lying on his side on the board. "There's something bothering me. Some part of the puzzle I haven't put together. And I just don't know ..."

"Something to help Harry," Ron said flatly. "Hermione, I keep telling you, there's nothing ..."

"But there is!" she cried, frustration rising. "I can't quite think of it, but I know there's something I can do, if only I could remember."

With a little snort, Ron started setting the chessboard up once more. "The only thing I can think of that you've been working on lately is all that blood nonsense you've been reading in those old books you keep lugging around. That French chap you were so mad about all those months ago."

Eyes widening, Hermione jumped to her feet as everything fell into place, knocking over the chessboard and causing the pieces to begin shouting at her. "That's it! Ron, you're a genius!"

He laughed. "Not something I hear every day. What are you talking about?"

"The ritual--the one Delacroix used to kill his enemy. Harry can use that to defeat Voldemort!" she shouted, causing a couple of second-years sitting across the room to give her alarmed looks.

"What ritual?" Ron asked, baffled.

"It might work," she continued, promptly forgetting Ron's presence. "If I can get to Harry in time ..."

"Hermione, will you please explain?" he asked angrily, standing up himself. "I don't know what you're talking about."

She gave him a radiant smile and patted his arm. "I've got to go help Harry," she said. "But first, I've got to grab a few things from my room and then go talk to someone."

"Right," Ron replied sharply. "If you're going on some batty quest to get yourself killed, I'm going with you."

"Ron, maybe you ought to stay here," she said, mental wheels turning even faster. "I mean, the Portkey will bring Harry back here and someone ought to stay, just in case."

"Hermione ..." he warned.

"Ron, if I'm right, I'm the only one that can help Harry," she told him gently. "You've got to trust me on this."

With a deep sigh, Ron gave her a mournful look. "Someday, will you explain all of this to me?"

"In more detail than you could possibly want, I imagine," Hermione replied with a sad smile. "Thanks, Ron."

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Severus was more surprised than not to hear a soft voice calling outside his doorway at a quarter 'til midnight. But he unwarded the entrance with a wand flick, not bothering to stand up.

Rushing in and gasping for air, Hermione stood before him with panicky eyes.

"Yes?" he asked, wondering what she was about.

"Has the headmaster gone to fetch Harry yet?" she asked, still panting slightly.

He tensed slightly. "No one is going to fetch Potter," he replied in a quiet voice.

Eyes narrowing, she stood stiffly and looked down at him with anger unfurling in her gaze. "What?"

"You heard me," he said with a little shrug. "The headmaster claims that Potter is best left to his own devices."

Her jaw dropped. "He's abandoning him?"

"Albus is putting all of his faith in some prophecy. I'm sure Potter has told you about it," Severus said, pushing some hair out of his face.

"Not any specifics," she answered, "but I am aware of the existence of such a thing."

"So, you see," he continued with an elegant wave of his hand, "Potter must fulfill his destiny, and no one must interfere. According to Albus, at least."

She studied him intently. "You disagree, then?"

"I dislike sending a rather unprepared child into the hands of a monster, yes," he said as diffidently as he could manage.

"Good," she said matter-of-factly, "then you'll help me find him?"

His face hardened, and he nearly came up out of the chair. "Absolutely not."

Her tone became pleading, beseeching, and Severus hated the weak tug in his chest that it produced. "But, Severus, I can help him," she said. "I know I can."

"What can you do?" he asked derisively. "As soon as You-Know-Who lays eyes on you, he'll kill you. You're nearly as marked as Potter, in your own way."

"Severus, Harry needs to perform Iustus' ritual," she said fiercely. "That's the only way he'll be able to defeat You-Know-Who--Harry can't manage the Killing Curse, and you know it as well as I do."

"The ritual?" he echoed, incredulous. "But You-Know-Who has no relatives. The ritual is useless."

She grinned. "But there is someone who's shared blood with Voldemort. Very recently in fact. Last November, when she attacked him with a knife while covered in deep wounds herself. There was bound to be some blood exchange. I was practically covered in it."

Severus' eyes flew open and he did come out of the chair, grasping her shoulders intently. "You're mad!" he cried. "It's not possible for such a thing to work."

"Why not?" she protested, struggling a little in his tight grip. "I'm 'blood of his blood' now, and if I shed my blood of freewill, it should be enough to do it. Severus, I have to take this chance."

"Let me understand," he started, releasing her shoulders and pinching the bridge of his nose tightly. "You're telling me that you intend to somehow get close enough to Potter to explain the ritual to him and then actually perform it, and you're going to do this without getting killed by the evil Dark Lord who's standing right nearby, and on top of all that, you don't even know if it will work?"

"That would be a basic outline of my idea, yes."

He was grave. "Hermione, I forbid you to do this."

"Forbid?" she echoed angrily. "You have no right. I did not come here asking your permission; I came here asking your help. If you refuse your assistance, I will continue without you."

Rolling his eyes, he knew she'd just effectively painted him into a corner. "Fine," he conceded grimly, voice tight with fury. "You know I'm not going to let you go off alone."

"I know," she agreed with a smirk. "Thank you." Planting a soft kiss on his cheek, Hermione pulled out of his arms and moved toward the doorway. "We don't have any time to lose, Severus. I've already got my notes on the ritual and one of the knives out of my potions kit."

Reluctantly, he allowed her to lead him from the room, walking briskly through the castle. Noticing that Hermione was doing her best to look like a contrite student on her way to a particularly horrible detention, Severus schooled his face into his usual stern expression, pushing his fear deep down in his gut. He liked this idea even worse than sitting helplessly useless in his rooms.

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Hermione was glad she'd managed to more or less convince Severus to come along. She knew he was violently opposed to her plan, but she also knew, deep down, that she had to do whatever she could to help Harry.

They walked to the Apparition point in silence, Severus a couple of steps ahead of her. "Where do you think he's taken Harry?" she asked into the quiet.

"There are several possibilities, unfortunately," he replied. "And none of them particularly stand out in my mind, although I think we might safely discount the last place they took Potter. Voldemort is no fool--he will not want to return to a place that was discovered."

"That probably leaves out the Riddle Manor as well, then," Hermione said thoughtfully. "If that was the first place that the Ministry thought to look, it would be the last place he would actually be."

Severus sighed. "Two down and more than a dozen to go. Perhaps trial and error is the best plan. Hold on," he said, holding his hand out to her.

Taking his hand, Hermione Apparated, nausea rising in her belly. They appeared to now be standing in a very dark, very abandoned field. She could hear sheep bleating in the distance. "Not here," she said, still clinging to his hand.

"I didn't think so," Severus replied with a sigh. "But it was worth looking."

They Apparated again and again, each time encountering darkness and nothing else. She stopped counting after ten but found herself growing dizzier and dizzier with each Apparition.

"This is ridiculous!" she cried in frustration after a few more times of this, coming dangerously close to actually vomiting. "We're never going to find them this way. We might as well go back to Hogwarts!"

"I'm running out of ideas," Severus told her, putting a hand to his forehead. "I just don't know ..."

"We can be logical about this," she said, willing her nausea away. "Just think like Voldemort. Where would you want to defeat your greatest rival if you were in his place?"

Severus laughed shortly, scratching the back of his head and grinning. "If I were You-Know-Who and I wanted to absolutely revel in the irony of the situation, I'd want to face Potter in the place where I was first defeated."

Humming thoughtfully, she folded her arm in his once more. "Have you ever been to Godric's Hollow, then? Where Harry's parents died?"

"Once," he replied. "A long time ago. But I remember it well enough to Apparate there with little difficulty, if that's what you're asking. At least, as long as it hasn't changed much."

"I doubt it has," Hermione said. "I would think the Ministry would have wanted to preserve it, like. The first defeat of the Dark Lord and all."

"I do think we ought to place Concealment Charms first, though," he said thoughtfully. "If our suspicions are correct and that is where they are, we cannot be sure what we're Apparating into."

She was dubious. "Will they hold through an Apparition?"

"They ought to," he said after a pause. "Not for long, though. I cannot give you an exact time frame, unfortunately."

Apparition under a Concealment Charm was decidedly worse than without one. For one horrifying moment, Hermione was positive she was going to throw up as she staggered and fell into Severus' side. Fortunately, a few rapid breaths and a reassuring half-embrace as Severus realized what was happening to her managed to quell her roiling stomach fairly well.

Again, however, they found themselves standing in relative darkness. Looking around, she found her earlier assumption to be right--Godric's Hollow was still a fairly undeveloped place. Quiet and still, it just meant that they heard the scream very clearly echoing around the clearing they were standing in.

Hermione looked at the empty spot she knew was Severus. "Harry," she said.

"I think it came from that way," he replied. Quite possibly, he was pointing somewhere.

"Not helpful, Severus," she chided. "You're Concealed, remember?"

"East, then," he retorted tightly. "Can you see well enough to walk?"

As if on cue, a fork of lightning arced across the sky, briefly illuminating the entire area. "Oh, good," Hermione said sarcastically, "a storm. And here I wasn't quite nervous enough."

"Maybe You-Know-Who will be struck by lightning, and it will take care of him for us," Severus grumbled, rustling through the grass.

She followed the rustling noises. "Doubtful," she replied. "He seems to be a lucky sort of evil fellow. Cheating death and escaping capture and all."

"If only he could manage to defeat his archnemesis," he said from quite far ahead of her with a dry chuckle.

"Slow down, Severus," she said sharply. "I'm losing you."

A searching hand jabbed her in the collarbone.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed.

The hand moved across her torso and wrapped around her wrist once it encountered it. "Run," he hissed, dragging her across the clearing and forcing her to move quickly, not letting go.

Lightning flashed several more times and thunder began rumbling across the horizon. The storm was drawing closer. Hermione thought she felt a few raindrops splatter against her face, but that might have been her imagination.

They were close enough now that they could hear voices shouting, but still no light. Hermione was relieved to hear Harry furiously, painlessly cry something unintelligible. He was still relatively unharmed, at least. But to hear the answering shout from Voldemort chilled her to the bone.

Closer still and she could begin to make out several figures standing in another clearing just ahead. But Severus yanked her to a sudden halt and pulled her behind a tree. "Damn," he hissed. "There have got to be at least twenty out there."

"What should we do?" she whispered back, squinting around the tree to confirm his count.

"You get to Potter," he continued in her ear. "I'll try to take a few of those others down--it should take them longer to find me if my Charm holds."

"Severus ..." she began in protest.

"It's my turn to play diversion," he whispered, tapping her cheek with an invisible finger.

She grinned, even though she knew he couldn't see it. "What a Gryffindor sort of plan," she murmured teasingly.

"Remind me to do something awful to you after we get out of here," he said dryly. "Now, on my count, just try and get to Potter. I'll see to the rest."

Fingering the knife handle jutting out of her pocket, Hermione patted his arm. "Right."

"Go!" he hissed, a rustling noise signaling his own exit.

With a deep breath, she pulled the knife out of her pocket and fished the parchment with the English incantation written on it out of another, walking quietly toward the cluster of Death Eaters. Now all she had to do was find Harry.

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