The Silver Swan

Chapter 13

On the morning, Hermione kissed us both, and thanked us and wished us well, but made it clear that she would be sleeping downstairs from then on. With me it was otherwise. Susan and I never discussed it, we haven't to this day; we simply took it as read that I had found my place and that it was next to her. A new life was beginning amidst the ruins of the old. It never occurred to me, though, to put milk in my tea or butter on my bread.

Susan understood; she had ghosts of her own.

*

* *

Hermione, appropriately enough, found solace in her books. She spent her days working on the Codex in silent communion with the spirit of Millicent Bulstrode, or writing in her own diary. I remembered Ginny telling me once that it too was sentient and wrote back to her. Curious, I asked her about it.

"Yes, she's been alive in her own way for hundreds of years. She's passed on from one witch to another, rather like the Codex, actually. She doesn't seem to mind though - not like poor Millicent. She's always ready to listen to whatever I have to say."

"It must be a great comfort ..."

"She is. I don't know what I'd do without her now. I feel like she's the only real friend I have left."

She realised what she had just said.

"Oh Padma, I'm sorry! I didn't mean ... It's just that she's been with me for so long. She already knows everything. I don't have to explain..."

"It's all right, Hermione. Believe me, I understand."

Hermione nodded.

"Padma..."

"Yes?"

"If anything ... if anything should happen to me, please take this and write in it whatever it is that happened ... so she'll know. She'll tell you what to do with the book."

I promised, of course. It seemed the least I could do. Meanwhile, there was the matter of the other book.

"Hermione, I don't want to rush you, but shouldn't you be designating an heiress?"

"Actually, no. Millicent was wrong about that. Her grandmother... well, her grandmother kept her predecessor trapped in the Codex for about thirty years, and she had no intention of letting that happen to her, and so she just lied about this. I'm getting the feeling that she wasn't at all a nice person in a lot of ways, although Millicent adored her. Anyway, however much she hates it, the fact is I need Millicent. And ... there's something else too."

"Yes?"

"Sooner or later, someone is going to figure out what I have - the Ministry or the Death Eaters, it really doesn't matter at this point. When they do, they'll come after me. Unless I've learned enough to defend myself by then, they'll get me, and then it's a death sentence, Padma. If I had an heiress, they'd just go after her too. I'm stuck with it but I won't wish this on anyone else. I have to learn how to use it first, really take possession."

"But what would they gain by killing you?"

"They'd force me to designate one of them, first. They could do it too, and it would be valid even if they have to use Imperio. Except I won't let it get that far. Forgive me, Padma, I don't mean to be melodramatic but I have no intention of letting them take me alive. There are spells for that in here too, and I have one ready. If I die without an heiress, Millicent stays in the Codex, and she can keep it locked. There's no way they can get to her."

Much as I wanted to, I could find no fault with her logic.

*

* *

And so we waited for the inevitable. Much to our surprise, though, we continued to be left alone. Even so, there were no more walks on the moor. Susan and I stayed close to the house, in the hopes of doing something, however futile, when they finally came for us, as we were certain they eventually would. But a week went by with nothing, and then two. Eventually, even Hermione grew restless.

"We have to find out what's going on."

Susan looked thoughtful.

"Well, as they already know where we are, I don't suppose it can do any harm."

"What do you have in mind?"

"The place I told you about when we came back from the Bulstrodes. It's not too far from here. I used to fly there with my aunt. It's all wizarding, if there's news going round, they'll have it."

Hermione nodded forcefully.

"Yes. Let's go, then. He was right about that, at least; we can't hide here forever."

As she said it, though, a look of apprehension crossed her face.

"There's just one thing. Do we really have to ...?"

Hermione's lack of flying skills was legendary. At least it gave me a way to be useful.

"You'll ride with me. Susan will show the way."

We took off at dusk, Hermione clinging tightly to me with, I strongly suspect, her eyes firmly shut. Half an hour later, we were landing next to what looked to be an isolated tumbledown barn, with its roof altogether missing. Susan had us all hold hands as she spoke the revealing charm.

"May Queen"

Even with the cloaking spells removed, the Queen of May was less than spectacular as seen from the outside, a small old-fashioned country inn that seemed to have fallen on hard times. Once through the door, however, we found ourselves in a surprisingly large public room filled with the varied clientele typical of wizarding establishments. One thing they did all have in common; we were the youngest people there by at least forty years, probably more. It didn't seem to matter, though. Heads turned as we came through the door, but it was immediately apparent that Susan was known here. There were nods and a general murmur of greeting, and the patrons turned back to their private affairs, ignoring us entirely.

Susan sat us down around a rough wooden table and then went off to the bar to fetch drinks without inquiring as to our preferences. We soon understood why. She returned with three tankards filled with a foaming liquid that was clearly not butterbeer. She answered the obvious question without waiting to be asked.

"May Queen. It's the house speciality, all they serve actually, hard cider and best not to know what else. It's quite good after you get used to it, but I think you'll find that one is enough if you're planning on flying home tonight."

The faint smile hiding somewhere behind her eyes left me wondering if this was the voice of experience speaking and, if so, whose. I took a very small experimental sip followed by a slightly larger one when I decided that I would probably survive the experience, and looked up to see how Hermione was faring. To my surprise, I saw her that attention was not on her drink at all, but on an extremely scruffy man, even by the standards of the Queen of May, who was seated alone in the darkest corner of the room. She turned to Susan,

"That man over there, that's Mundungus Fletcher."

"It is; he's a regular here. You know him?

Her tone was restrained but incredulous. Understandably so, this didn't look like someone that the Hermione we knew would be likely to frequent.

"I do, he's ... a friend of Dumbledore."

We both took her implied meaning and, looking round, I had to agree that this was probably not the sort of place in which to discuss the Order of the Phoenix. Meanwhile, the object of our attention had taken notice. He looked up at us, and then slowly walked over and invited himself to our table. He looked me up and down in a way that made me very glad I was wearing a heavy cloak, but then ignored me entirely.

"H'lo Hermione. Sue, how's your auntie?"

"Keeping nicely, thank you. Yourself?"

"Can't complain. Enjoyin' your holiday now they've gone and closed up Hogwarts, are you?"

That was a piece of news our three visitors had neglected to share ... Hermione and I both became very interested in our drinks, but Susan's expression never wavered.

"Any news from there, Dung?"

A look of shrewd amusement played over his features.

"Meanin' do I know the three of you got a bit of an early start?"

"If you know that, you know why we need news."

"Right. Well it wasn't you as caused it. Was her lot ... 'm sorry by the way."

It took me a moment to work out who "her" meant in this context. The sight of this rascally little man awkwardly presenting condolences was another reminder of how little I really knew about the girl whose bed I now shared. For her part, she merely nodded acknowledgement.

"Slytherin ..."

"Yup. Bunch of 'em got hold of the password to Gryffindor tower. Went after the personal effects of your Miss Granger here, not knowin' as she was already gone. Potter an' them caught 'em at it. Right fine ruckus, there was. Young Mr. Goyle ends up dead. No one seems to know who done it, but still, second student dead in less'n a month. Very unpleasant ..."

Conflicting emotions were playing across Hermione's face.

"What happened then? Did the Ministry ... Harry ... ?"

Mundungus Fletcher gave an odd cackling laugh.

"Way I heard it, when the MLE showed up Potter an' a whole bunch of 'em weren't nowhere to be found. Vanished, ya' might say. Haven't been seen since. Very odd, dontch'a think?"

We agreed that it was indeed very odd, and then Fletcher shuffled off mumbling something about having a word with a man who'd just come in. Somewhat to my surprise, I realised that my tankard was empty. So were Hermione's and Susan's. By unspoken agreement, we all had another. Susan was right; it was better as you got used to it. She was also right that one would have been enough.

*

* *

Susan Bones, it turned out, was quite skilled at the sort of minor healing charms for which one is extremely grateful on the morning after a first encounter with May Queen. Being Susan, she performed them unasked, without comment; and with only the faintest hint of a smile; and for that we were even more grateful.

She then cooked us all a large breakfast from the cottage's self-stocking larder and saw to it that we ate. We all drank our tea black that morning, and very strong. Finally it was time for talk. Fletcher's news, needless to say, had only whetted our appetite for more. Hermione had an idea.

"If Hogwarts is closed, the teachers may not be there. I wonder ..."

She paused, a faint smile playing over her features. Even after healing charms, hot breakfast, and three cups of tea, I was in no mood for guessing games.

"Out with it, Hermione."

"Madam Pince has a ... friend in London. He teaches at the LSE, she introduced me to him last summer. I'll bet he would know how to get hold of her, if she isn't there already."

Trust Hermione Granger to have inside knowledge of the private life of librarians ... There was, of course, one small difficulty.

"Uh, Hermione, how are you planning to get to London?"

"Well, I haven't told anyone this."

"Yes...?"

"Before we left Hogwarts, I was getting special tutoring from Professor McGonagall ... I was learning to Apparate. I think I could get there. I'm not actually licensed, of course ..."

Susan burst out laughing.

"Hermione, here you are practically a fugitive from justice, hiding an artefact that the authorities would kill to get their hands on if only they weren't too stupid to realise that you had it, and you're worried about Apparating without a license? You need to spend more time with Dung."

I have to admit, it was funny, but there was another worry.

"Never mind the license, are sure you can do it? Apparation is nothing to mess around with."

"I think I can. Distance isn't a problem at this range; it's all about how well you can visualise your target. There are places I could aim for not far from where I want to go. I really think I want to try this. It's worth it. Madam Pince will know what's really going on, and I'm sure she'll help me."

Susan and I still had doubts, but it became clear that Hermione was determined. Early the next morning, she set off, aiming for a spot she knew well in Regent's Park.

"It's a big open lawn, so there's less chance of running into trees or something if I'm a little off. If I get there early, there'll be no one about to see me. I'll come back as quickly as I can, but it may not be till evening."

And off she went, looking excited and quite pleased with herself, leaving Susan and I behind to occupy ourselves as best we could.

It was raining too hard to go out, but that proved unimportant. Susan's repertoire of extra-curricular magic, I learned that day, was not limited to healing charms. It made for an educational morning, which lasted well past lunchtime.

*

* *

Hermione returned at dusk to find a cauldron of soup simmering on the side of the hearth and Susan and I innocently playing wizard chess. Even so, she looked at us oddly.

"Have a good day, you two?"

So we had become "you two" now had we? I concentrated on disciplining my pawns, and decided that it was a very good thing that Hermione had never met Mackie Culligan. Susan looked up with those blue grey eyes that never gave away a thing.

"Very good, thank you. What did you find out?"

That was exactly the right thing to say, of course. Hermione forgot about us and rushed into the opening provided with an account of her own day. She had, it seemed, succeeded beyond all hope. Not only had she found Irma Pince, but the librarian had proven a gold mine of information. Some, we already suspected. The "temporary" shutdown of Hogwarts was well set to continue indefinitely. Hermione was indignant.

"It's utter rubbish! We all know that Hogwarts was the safest possible place for students to be. It's all to get back at Dumbledore. Fudge was never able to get him sacked, so now he's shut down the school."

More interesting were Madam Pince's own activities.

"She said it took her less than a day to figure out what we had taken from Millicent's room. All she had to do was check the books I had been reading and have a look at them herself. She jumbled up the records, though, so no one else will be able to do that. She doesn't think the Ministry know. It gets better though. She found some more references for me. Some of them might really help us with the spells. I'm going back tomorrow with the Codex."

Other news was more disturbing, if not unexpected.

"There have been more attacks. Both sides. Death Eaters and Ministry hit squads. No one seems to know where Harry is, but I know he's out there. All of them are, the ones that vanished from Hogwarts. Fred and George are missing too. Actually, all of the Weasleys are. Bill and Charlie have left their jobs and Molly just walked out of St. Mungo's without anyone stopping her. What were they thinking? There are others too ..."

She hesitated and looked at me. I could guess what she was coming next, and cut her off. Better not to hear it spoken out loud.

"You don't have to say it, Hermione. Where else would she be?"

Hermione nodded grimly and we sat for a moment in silence. Finally it was Susan who spoke, in a voice that left no room for doubt.

"We have got to stop this! Otherwise she'll have died for nothing. We can't allow that. I can't."

The morning, with its light-hearted intimacy, suddenly seemed very far away indeed. All of our ghosts were back with a vengeance.

Once again Hermione looked at us intently, but this time it was concern and not ironic amusement in her eyes.

"We'll find a way. I promise."

She had no way of knowing whether it was a promise she could keep, and we all knew that, but we loved her for saying it. I reached over to take Hermione's hand, and realised that she was freezing cold. A closer looked revealed that her clothes were soaked through.

"It was raining in London too. I couldn't use a charm - too obvious."

We sent her upstairs to change while I served soup and Susan prodded the fire to greater efforts. Over dinner, it was Susan who spoke for once. As if to earn forgiveness for her earlier outburst, so rare for her, she gave us a spontaneous history lesson.

"What's happening here, raiding and killing back and forth, that's what they did the first time. That was Crouch's strategy, Moody's. But they were losing. That's what everyone forgets, what they didn't write in the histories. They were losing. The Dark Arts thrive on chaos and death; it just makes them stronger. Remember what Alden Bulstrode told us; my aunt always said the same thing. When the business with Harry happened, Voldemort was on the verge of winning, and the Ministry's tactics were just playing into his hand. That's why we have to stop it."

Much as I wanted to agree, my doubts were never far away.

"Susan, you keep saying "we." Do you really think we can, the three of us here? Is the Codex really that powerful?"

It was Hermione who answered.

"I think it could be, but there's more to it than that. I think our first duty is to be an example. To show that there is another way."

*

* *

Before sending Hermione back to London the next morning, we equipped her with an umbrella. She told us to behave ourselves, suppressing a smirk, and was off. In any event, we did. Susan had a plan, but it was altogether different from that of the day before.

"I've been thinking about what Hermione said last night. If we're going to be an example, the first thing we have to do is survive. Being here isn't good enough. If they really wanted to, they could break through the wards. We need something better."

I had suspected as much, and it really didn't matter which "they" came after us first. Susan was right, and I had been thinking along those lines as well.

"The Fidelius charm; do you think we can do it?"

"It's worth a try."

When Hermione returned with a satchel full of books, there was no dinner, but the table was littered with spell books and bits of parchment. We explained our idea and she nodded.

"Yes, keep trying. All this is going to help a lot, but it will still take time. Weeks or months instead of years, maybe, but having a really safe place to work on it would make all the difference. I don't think we can stay here much longer."

A worried look passed over Susan's face.

"What did you find out? Is something happening with my aunt?"

"No, nothing like that. She's still on the job, and officially the Ministry still aren't taking an interest in us. But I found out why today."

"Yes?"

"I'm not the only one who's been to see Madam Pince. Seems Ginny's on the trail as well, but she isn't ready to share her ideas with anyone - least of all the Ministry. I gather she doesn't altogether trust them."

"Smart girl ... but then we always knew that."

Somehow, I found this less than reassuring.

"So we're safe here until Ginny decides to turn us in."

"And, remember, the Fidelius charm does no good if she already knows where we are before we cast it."

"What you're saying is that we should be moving soon."

"As soon as the charm is ready, yes."

Hermione stayed home the next day and the three of us worked on it together. We set off full of enthusiasm. Hermione, after all had been first in Arithmancy and I first in Charms; Susan a close second in both. Even so, we hit a dead end. Hermione shook her head.

"It can't be helped. We need more information. I'll have to go back to London."

We agreed reluctantly. It seemed the only way. Hermione left early the next morning, promising to be back as soon as possible. In her absence, we continued to work in a desultory way, staying busy to stave off anxiety.

Hermione was back shortly after lunchtime, but our smiles of greeting froze on our lips. One glance at her face made it clear that something was terribly amiss; Susan and I were at her side in an instant.

"Hermione, what happened? What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

She shook her head. Whatever it was, we realised, wasn't to do with her. It was me she was looking at, her gaze sick with pity and dread. And then I knew. My knees buckled under me and, for a dreadful moment, I couldn't breathe. Hermione sank down to crouch beside me and grasped me by the shoulders.

"She's alive, Padma."

That at least allowed me to draw a ragged breath, but as my mind cleared, it was only to be filled with yet more hideous possibilities. I clutched at Hermione, and was finally able to get out an intelligible word.

"What ..."

"She was injured ... badly, a curse probably, but no one seems to know exactly. They have her in St. Mungo's now. I'm sorry, Padma, but that's all I know."

I remember nothing of the rest of the afternoon. Susan tells me I went through the motions of helping her get dinner, and even managed to eat a few bites. No doubt she's right. The next thing I recall is the arrival of an owl. Even in my befuddled condition, I recognised it as hers, but as I reached for the message it carried, the writing on the envelope told me that it, like all of them these days, was taking its orders from Ginny Weasley. As I opened it, a scrap of parchment fell out. On it were five words in Ginny's small precise script, each of them a dagger stroke straight to the heart.

Padma, this is your fault.

There was something else in the envelope. Hermione realised a moment before I did what it must be, and tried to take it away from me, to keep me from seeing, but Susan stopped her.

"She has to know. So do we."

My hand was shaking too badly. In the end it was Susan who took out the picture. Her, of course, lying in a bed, presumably in St. Mungo's. She was clearly unconscious, but just as clearly in terrible pain, grimacing and writhing in agony.

Padma, this is your fault.

I remember Hermione, so Hermione-like, protesting at the unfairness of the accusation. I remember Susan coming quietly to hold me in her arms.

I remember pushing them both away.

Finally they left me alone, alone with my grief and pain and guilt. I couldn't help but notice that the Codex, which Hermione usually left on her worktable, was no longer there. I suspect that she took it to bed with her that night. Even at the time, I managed to be grateful that she had thought to remove that temptation, the temptation I can never quite altogether forget, the temptation to follow my heart rather than my head and keep faith with my older in the best Ravenclaw tradition.

Would I really have taken it? Would I really have run away with our last best hope and brought it as my tribute and penance to Ginny Weasley, suspecting that in all probability it would do no good, knowing that to hand it over was to sign Hermione's death warrant, and yet for all that hoping against hope that something in there could help, that someone would be able to find it? There is no doubt in my mind that Cho Chang, had our positions been reversed, would have done. As she had for Marietta, she would have risked ostracism and faced anathema, would have damned the entire wizarding world to chaos and death if that were what it took, on the outside chance of saving one friend, of saving me. With the help of my companions, I held true to our ideals and, in the end, saved no one at all.

I sat unmoving in the dark, staring at the fire as if I expected it to bring me news. Long after midnight, I was finally able to cry. Wracking sobs slowly turned to silent tears. I looked up at last, to see Susan sitting on the steps, silently waiting for me, prepared to wait all night. Now at last I was able to go to her, and once more she led me to her bed - our bed - and undressed me like a child, and laid me down beside her. Comfort from Susan Bones was not, and we both knew this perfectly well, what I most wanted in the world just then, but it was freely given and gratefully accepted. It demanded no promises and extracted no price. By the light of dawn, I managed to go to sleep. I knew that when I awoke, she would be there beside me.