Endlong into Midnight

CHAPTER TWO
The Valley of Lost Time

A phone call from Remus -- both she and Remus were living like Muggles; it made them a little less detectable by the Ministry -- woke her the next morning, informing her that the Wolfram & Hart team would be coming round the flat and she should probably be there, since this was her operation. Hermione took a moment to wash up and then Apparated to the small blind alley just down the street from Remus's.

The Wolfram & Hart limo was waiting outside Remus's apartment block, looking distinctly out of place in Remus's rundown neighborhood. That meant the team was already there waiting for her. Poor Remus, Hermione thought, and quickened her steps.

She was slightly out of breath from jogging up the four flights of stairs. Not for the first time, she wished the lifts in Remus's building worked, but as Remus had noted grimly, one was safer taking the stairs.

Hermione knocked on Remus's door, heard the clattering of the many locks, and then saw Remus himself, opening the door with a smile. "Good morning, Hermione," he said, gesturing her in and locking the door behind her.

All the blinds were down, making the dreary living room downright gloomy. There was a faint smell of burning in the air, and unless Hermione missed her guess, Spike looked slightly charred. From the matching teacups, Remus and Wesley had been chatting. Spike and Angel were bickering, something about astronauts, and Illyria was examining the shelves and shelves of books that had been shoved haphazardly into Remus's flat.

Once Hermione was in the door, all conversation stopped and all eyes were on her. She took a deep breath. This was her plan: time to put it in action. She was 24 years old, saving the world, and she didn't have a clue how to do it.

"Good morning," she said to the group. "I think it's time to get started on this -- whatever it is we're doing. I think you all need to know what it is we're up against."

"What are you proposing we do, Hermione?" Remus asked.

She hesitated. "I think we need to go visit Harry."

Remus looked concerned. "Visit Harry? Are you sure that's wise? He's not exactly . . . rational, you know."

"We have wands, you know, Remus, and I'm sure these four can take care of themselves in a fight, if it came to that. Besides, we need him. Neither can live . . ."

"We'll go, then, if that's what you want," Remus said, but he was obviously dubious.

Angel and Spike needed a moment to wrap themselves securely in blankets before going down. Wesley headed down to the car first to open the door for the two of them, and Illyria trailed after him, leaving Hermione and Remus alone for a moment.

"What are you thinking?" Hermione asked. She valued Lupin's opinion, but he often had to be asked for it.

"Just a bit worried about Harry. It's been a while since I've seen him. And are Angel and Spike always like that?"

"You're asking me that after last night?"

Remus shook his head. "Let's go. Wait for me to lock up and I'll escort you down."

***

The smell of burning was stronger in the limousine, but politely, neither Hermione nor Lupin said anything. Lupin gave directions to Grimmauld Place and the driver set off on the journey up to St. Pancras. Hermione spent the journey mostly fretting over what state they would find Harry. The Harry she had met on her visits had varied wildly: sometimes he was almost lucid and knew who she was, even if his conversation didn't always make sense, but sometimes he believed her to be an attacking Death Eater and was angry and violent. Upon occasion, he was simply withdrawn and sat staring into space, not responding to conversation.

She had meant what she said when she told Spike fixing Harry wasn't as simple as giving him some pills. Even before they had put him in the house, Harry had psychological scars from his battles with Voldemort and carried an enormous burden of guilt that he refused to talk about. They had not gone away in the five years since.

Once the car drew near to Grimmauld Place, Hermione realized she needed to brief the Wolfram & Hart group about the protections on the house. She cleared her throat, and Angel, Spike, and Wesley looked at her. "There are some protections on the house that you need to know about," she said. "You might have gathered that Harry is important to the war. His location is a magical secret. I'll tell you where he is so that you can go in the house, but it is vitally, incredibly important that you tell no one else where he is. Not even members of the Order of the Phoenix. Don't assume that just because someone is in the Order of the Phoenix that they know everything I've told you. If I think you can't be trusted to keep the secret, I'll Memory Charm you myself and you'll go home thinking your weekend jaunt overseas was a wonderful idea."

She expected a smart remark from Spike, but she didn't get one. Either he understood how important this was, or he was still recovering from his brief exposure to sunlight.

"Remember this," Hermione said. "Harry Potter's residence is at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London."

Her timing was better than she thought, because at that moment the limo pulled into the small courtyard that marked Grimmauld Place. It was dank and filled with moldering garbage, but that was the joke, thought Hermione. She could clearly see Number Twelve, curtains shut and windows dusty -- she was Harry's Secret-Keeper and could always see the residence -- but she could tell the Wolfram & Hart team could not.

"I'll go start on the unlocking charms," Remus said, and squeezed out of the limousine, being careful not to expose Angel to any more sunlight than he had to.

"I know," Hermione said, "it doesn't look like there's anything there. Concentrate on what I told you."

She could tell the very moment the spell lifted, because even Spike looked shocked. Illyria looked bored with it all. After a few moments, Remus gestured that he had the spells on the door unlocked and Angel and Spike wrapped themselves again, barreling for the door at high speed. Hermione, Wesley, and Illyria entered the house as a group. Remus was last in, and the door closing behind him sounded like the closing of a tomb.

Angel and Spike were hanging their blankets on a coat hanger and looking around, peering through the dank darkness. Hermione took a moment to peer through the gloom also. The house was in markedly worse shape than it had been the last time she was here. With a stab of guilt, she remembered that had been two years ago; she had started to make a breakthrough on the Watcher thing and was traveling too much to stop off in London every other day. Someone had to have been visiting Harry, though, in the interim. That was the way they had it set up, and besides, the Order of the Phoenix didn't do things like lock people in houses and forget about them.

Remus was also staring at the dilapidated condition of the house, the phrases carved jaggedly and shakily into the wood paneling on the walls: Neither Can Live, Kill The Spare, The Other Survives. And an endless litany of names. Lily James Cedric Sirius Albus Ron. Drifts of parchment covered the floor, swept higher in the corners. Hermione picked one up and unfolded it, seeing it covered in Harry's spindly writing. Dear Sirius I'm sorry I failed you Ron I'm sorry you met me Cedric I'm sorry I told you to take the Cup with me. Endless recriminations, Harry blaming himself for the deaths of those he loved.

This was as bad as it had been when the Order had first begun using it in 1995. Cobwebs clung to the ornate chandeliers and the house smelled musty. Remus wrinkled his nose slightly and she knew he was smelling the same things she was: the faint sweet-sour smell of rotting garbage. Something was ticking in Hermione's brain. It was true Harry didn't have a house-elf since Kreacher died and Dobby had been forbidden to visit for his own safety. And he could hardly be expected to manage cleaning spells on his own. But surely someone would have cleaned for him . . . no one wanted Harry to live in filth . . .

Remus turned away and picked up a few pieces of the parchment that littered the entrance hall. He read one and then, ashen-faced, crumpled it and threw it back onto the ground. Hermione looked at him. Voice shaking slightly, he said, "Suicide note."

Reverently, Spike said, "Your boy . . . is . . . barking."

Some of the papers were mottled with suspicious brown spots. Hermione was familiar with what dried blood looked like by now. "How long has it been since you visited him?" she asked Remus quietly.

He frowned. "Two years. I got busy trying to run the Order and keep things from collapsing in on us. You?"

The weight of what she had done was bearing down on Hermione. "About the same. I'd hit a promising point in my research and I couldn't break off every two days to check on him. I figured someone else was coming by to see to him."

With a humorless smile on his face, Lupin said, "Apparently so did we all."

Hermione's stomach was writhing within her. Harry was her best friend, the superhero who hated the limelight, the Boy Who Lived, the only person who could win the war. And she had shut him up in a house and forgotten about him.

"What have we done?" she whispered, mostly to herself.

Spike frowned. "So, wait. If I'm hearing you right, and nobody's been by to see him in two years, how do we know he's not dead of starvation by now? Or that he's not done himself in six times over already? Your boy could be a skeleton by now and apparently, you all wouldn't have known it until you decided you needed him again."

"The house is charmed," said Hermione, unable to stop staring at the words carved into the walls, everywhere Harry could reach. Diary Ring Locket Cup Snake Ravenclaw Voldemort. "It makes food for him, three times a day. It makes clothes and supplies when he needs them." It was a tricky bit of spelling that had taken her a month to work out, but she didn't mention that. She continued, "And he's charmed so that he can't kill himself. Plus, he hasn't got a wand."

"It doesn't take a wand to kill yourself," Angel said, grim, as if they needed reminding.

"It would probably be prudent to find him," Wesley said, looking around with a sense of urgency.

Hermione resented the fact that they were treating her as if she were stupid, but recognized that she probably deserved it. She took a few steps forward, being careful of where she put her feet: the floor was thickly covered in parchment and she wasn't entirely sure of what lurked underneath. "Harry?" she called. "Harry, it's Hermione. Are you around?"

Silence.

"Harry, it's Hermione," she called again. "I've come for a visit. I'm in the entrance hall if you want to come down."

Silence . . . then she heard a faint thump and a squeak of a loose floorboard. So he was upstairs, and mobile. This was either a good sign or a bad sign.

She started up the stairs, Remus immediately behind her and Angel and Spike following him. "Harry, I'm sorry I've been away so long," she said, projecting her voice toward the first floor. "Will you come talk to me?"

A shuffling of feet. She climbed up a few more stairs. "I know you're up here, Harry."

She reached the top of the stairs and was about to call out again, when the far bedroom door flew open, startling her. Harry burst out of the door, pointing what looked like a broken-off chair leg at her, and screaming. "DEATH EATERS!" he yelled. "DEATH EATERS! YOU CAN'T TAKE ME! I'LL MURDER YOU! THIS IS FOR --"

"Harry!" she yelled, trying to outshout him. Dimly she remembered from her fifth year at Hogwarts that this was very hard to do. "Harry, we're not Death Eaters! Harry, look at me! It's Hermione!"

He was still shouting. "I'LL MURDER YOU, I'LL MASSACRE YOU, I'LL --"

Desperately, Hermione pulled her wand out and pointed it at Harry. "Aequitas!" she shouted. A lavender-colored jet shot out of her wand and hit Harry in the chest, knocking him down. He stopped screaming mid-syllable and sat there looking pacified and benign.

"What was that?" Wesley asked.

"The Calming Charm," Hermione answered, handing her wand to Lupin so Harry couldn't get at it. "It won't last long, but it may give me enough time to get through to him." She hurried down the hall to Harry, who was looking vaguely bemused, yet pleased.

Kneeling beside him, she said, "Harry, it's Hermione. Do you recognize me?"

He peered up at her, the soporific expression already staring to wear off his face. "Yes," he said. "You left me."

"I'm sorry," she apologized fervently. "I was looking for a way to beat Voldemort. And I think I've found one."

"I'm supposed to beat Voldemort," he said, belligerence creeping back into his tone. "I'm the prophecy. Neither can live while the other survives. Neither can live, neither can live. Kill the spare!"

"Harry," she pleaded. "I need you to stay calm and talk to me. Stay with me."

"I'm here," he said, a little hollowly. "I'm always here. You left me alone."

With a touch of macabre humor, she thought that there were times he had told her in no uncertain terms that he wanted her to do just that. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said. "I truly am. Come down to the kitchen and talk to me. There are things we need to talk about."

"Not," Harry said, "the kitchen. The kitchen is where --" And he shuddered all over.

"Where would you rather we go, then?"

"My room," said Harry, "my room. It's all right there."

Hermione offered a hand and helped Harry up off the floor. She took a moment to look at him. He was filthy, hair long and matted, but underneath the filth he was chalky pale. Of course, thought Hermione, he hasn't been out in the sun in two years. She could see paler white lines, though, crisscrossing his face, covering his skin. They were on his arms too, and she could see where his shirt drooped at the collar that he wore them there too. She realized what they meant and had to swallow several times. Two years alone with no one but his demons had done Harry Potter no favors.

Harry led them to his room, which was on the second floor. It was even more densely packed with scraps of paper than the rest of the house, and Hermione could see the remains of several meals among the drifts. A bare mattress had a dent running down the middle. Stacks of paper nearly obscured a small desk in one corner. The only other piece of furniture in the room was a large wardrobe, carved with faces that leered unpleasantly at Hermione.

Harry curled up on a small stool pushed in front of the desk, hugging his knees to him and whispering softly. The rest of the group crowded into Harry's room, trying not to step on one of the rotting dinner plates. Hermione listened closely and realized Harry was whispering his litany again. "James Lily Cedric Sirius Dumbledore Ron," he repeated. "James Lily Cedric Sirius Dumbledore Ron."

Hermione tried to call him back to himself. "Harry," she said. "Listen to me. Harry. I'm sorry I went away. But I found some people that can help us. We'll destroy the Horcruxes, so you can fight Voldemort, but I need you to help me too. I need you to --"

She paused, not knowing what to say to him. She needed him well, and sane, and able, but she realized that asking Harry to cure himself would be like asking a drowning man to pull himself out of the water. Seized by an idea, she continued. "I'm going to bring a potion by every day. I need you to take it every day, when I bring it to you. Can you do that?"

"I can . . ." Harry trailed off. "You're not going to leave me? You left me before." He finally looked up and saw Lupin. "You left me too. I was left -- I was right." He giggled to himself.

"I am sorry, Harry," Remus said, and Hermione could hear how this was going to eat at him.

"We're not going to leave you again, Harry," Hermione reassured him. "Can you take the potion?"

Harry seemed to gather himself together slightly. "I can," he said, his voice firmer than it had been.

"Okay," Hermione said, heart breaking. "I'll bring the first dose by tomorrow. I have to go now, Harry, but I'll be back tomorrow."

"Don't leave me!" Harry said, clearly alarmed.

"I have to," Hermione said, trying to soothe Harry, "but I'll be back tomorrow. I'll bring Remus. It'll be like old times."

"You can't bring Ron."

"No," Hermione agreed, "I can't bring Ron." She bent and kissed Harry on the forehead, trying not to be disgusted by the fact that he tasted like sweat and dirt. "Goodbye, Harry. I'll be here again tomorrow."

The group clomped out of Harry's room and down the stairs, leaving him whispering to himself again. Spike and Angel were resignedly wrapping themselves up for the sprint back to the waiting limo when Harry stormed out of his room. "You can't do it without me, you know," he said, looking at Hermione. "What you're planning. I won't let you."

"I know, Harry," Hermione said, and they all made their way out of Grimmauld Place.

***

Once they were all back in the Wolfram & Hart limo, Spike shook his head. "You know, I've been totally out of my head at times," he said, "but I never had nothing on your boy."

Hermione ignored him, something she was getting good at doing.

"What kind of potion are you planning to give him, Hermione?" Remus asked.

"I'm going to take Spike's advice," Hermione said, lifting her mouth in a half-smile. "Prozac. That's not all he needs, but maybe it'll help us get through to him. At the very least, he'll be able to do what needs done."

"Meanwhile," said Lupin, "we still have work to be done. Getting Harry better is something that I regret we haven't done sooner. But we still need to find those last Horcruxes, because you know as well as I that Harry can't come out of that house until he's ready to face Voldemort. I hope you've got a plan for finding the Horcruxes, because I don't."

"We may be able to help with that," Wesley said. "Or I should, at any rate. I'll need some time to gather supplies, and I'll need told about the Horcruxes."

Hermione and Remus looked at each other. "I was planning to call an Order meeting tonight," Lupin said. "We can spend the time until then going over what we know."

The group was again silent on the trip back down to Lambeth, sobered by what they'd seen in Grimmauld Place. Once they returned to Lupin's block, Spike and Angel begged off the Horcrux talk, saying there were things they needed to do at the office. (Hermione suspected sleep, since they were both looking a little ragged.) Remus went into his bedroom, leaving the door half-open, and busied himself making preparations for a meeting of the Order, leaving Hermione to inform Wesley about Horcruxes. Illyria stayed with Wesley and seemed to be listening to Hermione speak for about fifteen minutes, but abruptly excused itself. "I wish to walk this city," it said.

Hermione broke off mid-sentence. Wesley looked at Illyria as if it had expressed a sudden desire to take up fine needlepoint. "You can't," he said. "You'll cause a panic."

"None will notice me as I go," Illyria said. "I will return when I am satisfied. Do not attempt to stop me." Adeptly it undid Remus's many locks and vanished down the hall outside his flat. Hermione got up to close the door and redo the locks and watched it turn toward the staircase.

Wesley looked slightly helpless. "I'm sorry," he said. "Illyria is like that sometimes. Where were we?"

Hermione resumed her seat and took up repeating to Wesley what she knew about Horcruxes. Harry had told her all she knew, which he had learned from Albus Dumbledore. Once she had finished talking about Horcruxes in general, she narrowed in to Voldemort's Horcruxes in specific, rehashing the list Harry still tormented himself over. Professor Dumbledore believed there had been seven: Riddle's old school diary; a ring and a locket that had belonged to Salazar Slytherin; a cup that had belonged to Helga Hufflepuff; Voldemort's snake; an unknown artifact from either Godric Gryffindor or Rowena Ravenclaw; and Voldemort himself. Two were destroyed already: the diary and the ring. Professor Dumbledore had thought he knew where the locket was, but Harry had confessed to her that Dumbledore died not realizing that it was a fake and the location of the real one was unknown.

Wesley listened to all this patiently without showing the slightest sign of dismay. "I may be able to help," he said. "I'll have to find some supplies, though. It may take a while. If you don't mind, I think I'll head back to the London office and make a start of things."

"Shouldn't you wait for Illyria?" Hermione asked.

Wesley smiled thinly. "Illyria has shown an uncanny ability to find me wherever I am. I don't think I'll worry."

"Do you need to use the phone?"

"Easier just to take the tube, I think," Wesley said. "I should still be able to find my way around."

"There's maps if you get lost," Hermione said, only half-joking.

In response to her half-joke, Wesley half-smiled. "Good afternoon, Miss Granger."

Hermione let him out of Remus's apartment, making sure to lock up behind him. She leaned into the bedroom, where Remus sat hunched at a little desk making notes from a book onto a sheet of parchment. "I'm going to head over to my flat for a bit," she told him.

"Order meeting at half past eight," he said. "The usual crowd."

"I'll be sure to be there. Lock up behind me."

***

There was a small park behind Remus's block that was free of the anti-Apparition wards. Hermione dodged behind a tree, made sure no one was watching, and Apparated back to her flat. There she intended to do some research on the computer. As a Muggleborn witch, Hermione was much more tolerant of Muggle electronics than some of her fellow witches and wizards. The computer was cheap but worked fairly well; casting spells sometimes made the monitor go funny colors, though.

Hermione spent two hours with Google and came out of it with a fairly thorough understanding of what was wrong with Harry and what medications would help fix it. The trouble was, however, that she couldn't exactly walk down to the nearest Boots and buy the drug he needed. With the state he was in, if she took him to a doctor they'd put him in hospital, anyway, and no wizard belonged in a Muggle hospital. Not that he'd paid to the NHS or had any private health insurance they'd recognize, she thought. St. Mungo's was no help: wizarding healers didn't treat mental illness like Muggles did, and the hospital was packed full of Death Eaters anyway. She ruminated for a moment and then hit on the solution.

Mundungus Fletcher had long been a thief and a crook in the wizarding world, but once the wizarding world had started to fall on hard times, he had moved out into the Muggle world as well. The wizarding world was dangerous and Fletcher liked to stay safe, not to mention the fact that bobbies were far easier to elude than Aurors. If Mundungus didn't have what she needed, he'd find a way to get it to her.

Not having a fireplace in her flat, Hermione Apparated down to the Leaky Cauldron, again prevailing upon Tom to let her use a fireplace. Casting some Floo powder into the fire, she called, "Mundungus Fletcher."

As luck would have it, he was in the hovel he called home. "Eh? Whoozat?" she heard. Then Mundungus's stubbly face showed up in her fireplace. "Ah, it's you, Miss Granger," he said, slightly slurred. "Wot can I do you for?"

"I need you to find something for me."

Mundungus visibly perked up. "Wossat then?"

She held up a scrap of paper on which she'd written the medication she needed. Fletcher reached a hand up and she handed him the note. "A month's worth of these, fast."

Fletcher's eyes widened as he saw what was on the paper, but he said, "Next Monday."

"Thank you, Mundungus," Hermione said. He nodded and disappeared out of the fire.

Next Monday. That was nearly a week away. Hermione considered, and added her name to the list of Diagon Alley shoppers.

***

In the years since Harry Potter had been interred in Grimmauld Place, the Order of the Phoenix had taken to meeting at Hogwarts. It wasn't quite as secure as Grimmauld Place, but it was still the safest place in wizarding Britain. At about a quarter past eight, with a Tranquility Potion boiling sluggishly in her loo, Hermione Apparated to the edge of Hogwarts' grounds. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of the Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts was there waiting for her, sporting a few bruises from whatever he was teaching about this term.

Hagrid had been a great friend to Harry, Ron, and her during their time at Hogwarts, even if he was, Hermione reluctantly admitted, a rather substandard teacher. He had a love of exotic and dangerous beasts that had gotten him in trouble more than once, but he had one of the warmest hearts in Britain. At the moment, he was functioning in his capacity as Keeper of the Keys, vetting the Order members who showed up for the meetings. "Evenin', Hermione," he said. "Gate's locked, what's the password."

"It's a surprise," she said. Remus was in charge of setting the passwords, which changed every meeting, and upon occasion he demonstrated a puckish humor that was doubtless what had allowed him to hold his own against James Potter and Sirius Black.

"Ar, that it is," said Hagrid, and he unlocked the gates for her. "Good seein' yeh, Hermione."

Pulling her cloak around herself, she made the long walk up to the castle that housed Hogwarts. As she was constantly reminding people as a schoolgirl, it was impossible to Apparate onto Hogwarts grounds; a good security feature that did sometimes make for long walks in the cold. The Entrance Hall was only relatively warm, but compared to the wind outside it was like stepping into a sauna.

Hermione made her way up the floors of the castle, seeing few students. The younger students were supposed to be in the common rooms already, and the older students only had forty minutes left before curfew. Enrollment at Hogwarts was down, also, from a combination of fear and deaths. Voldemort showed no mercy when it came to children, possibly out of an awareness that he was killing tomorrow's Aurors.

The door for the room where Order meetings were held was deliberately nondescript, designed to be missable. Hermione was paying attention today, or she would have walked right past it. The door was charmed to recognize Order members; Hermione rested her hand on the knob until she felt the tingle that meant she could open the door.

Inside, the usual early crowd was milling about, a combination of veterans from the First Order and new members that had joined after Voldemort's second rise to power. Some, like Hermione, had joined after their graduation from Hogwarts. Remus was there already, making distracted conversation with Arthur and Molly Weasley. Alastor Moody, known as Mad-Eye for his wild magical eye, was there, sharing war stories with Seamus Finnigan and the eldest Weasley son, Bill. Others she saw were the ex-Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt and Dedalus Diggle, the tiny, excitable, and highly unlikely secret agent. Minerva McGonagall, current headmistress of Hogwarts was also there, and she acknowledged Hermione with a nod of the head as she listened to Katherine Bundy speak.

As the clock ticked closer to half-past, more people started to drift in. Angelina Johnson showed up with George Weasley, chatting genially about Oliver Wood's performance during Puddlemere United's last Quidditch game. Luna Lovegood drifted in like she had actually meant to end up somewhere else.

Remus called the meeting to order at precisely 8:30, and everyone sat down in the chairs the Room of Requirement had provided for the occasion. Hermione found a seat on Ginny Weasley's right side so she'd be on Ginny's good side. She noticed a distinct smell of goats and deduced that Aberforth Dumbledore must be sitting somewhere behind her.

Lupin cleared his throat a couple times and said, "Good evening, everyone. I wanted to check in with everyone and see how they were doing. I also have a few announcements."

Mundungus Fletcher slunk in and took a seat in the back of the room.

"Good of you to join us, Mundungus," Remus said politely.

Parvati Patil came flying in at high speed and barreled into a seat.

"And Parvati," Remus added. "Anyone else coming? No? I'd like those of us who can to give an update on what they're doing."

Involvement in the Order of the Phoenix varied. Some members were actively running missions for the Order and had no other occupation. Hermione was one of these. Others worked a regular job and reported back on anything unusual they heard, in addition to being available to help in emergencies, like Arthur and Bill Weasley. And Mundungus Fletcher they kept around because he heard things the others didn't. He was also good for procuring supplies, and if he had a tendency to be light-fingered with the silverware it was easily stopped with a patdown at the door.

Across the room, people stood up and gave short reports on what was happening. Arthur Weasley reported that the Ministry, under Lucius Malfoy's direction, was looking at implementing curfews. Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had been posing as the Muggle Prime Minister's secretary for the last six years, talked about how Voldemort's most recent activities affected the Muggle world. Bill Weasley reported from Gringotts, the wizarding bank, and his branch, GringottsBank. Aberforth, grudgingly, and using as few words as possible, described a plan he had heard two possible Death Eaters describing in the Hog's Head.

Around 8:45, Hagrid came in from watching the gate for latecomers. It took until about nine for everyone to update on their situation, then Remus gestured for quiet and said, "Now, a few announcements. I really only have a very few so we should soon be on our way. First, Hermione has met some people who may be able to help us with this War. I know everyone will welcome them and their help, but I'd like people to be aware that they are Muggles."

A small ripple ran through the room. Ginny, sitting next to her, said, "Is that what you've been up to lately?"

Hermione nodded. "I'll explain later."

Arthur Weasley seemed to be exclaiming to Molly over "real Muggles! Helping with the war! Imagine that!"

Remus gestured for quiet. "Some of you may never meet them, depending on how this all takes place. I wanted you to be aware of them, however. Second," he continued, "I will be unavailable, as always, on the fifth of April. As a warning. Does anyone else have any warnings they'd like to share with everyone?"

Luna Lovegood solemnly issued a warning about Nargle activity being on the upswing, which everyone managed to listen to without laughing but no one took seriously.

"Right then," said Lupin. "Anything else? No? Dismissed."

The various members of the Order of the Phoenix stood, stretching and creaking slightly. The Room of Requirement might provide them a place to meet, but Lupin hadn't yet been able to talk it into providing comfortable chairs. Some came over to talk to Hermione, who had been hoping to slip out and check to see if Wesley had contacted her on her mobile.

"Importing Muggles to help fight the war, eh, Hermione?" said George Weasley in a teasing tone of voice. "Next thing you know we'll be lifting the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. Might finally be able to get shot of those nasty devil-worshiping rumors. And a whole new market for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes!"

"Leave her alone, George," said Ginny. "Personally, I'm all for anything that will help us win this war. If you told me a military brigade of Flobberworms would win this, I'd be out doing recruitment drives the next morning."

George laughed but did as Ginny asked, leaving Hermione and Ginny to talk to one another. "So this is what you've been up to?" Ginny asked.

"For years," Hermione said. "I think they're our last hope, Ginny. Or I did when I went to go find them. Meet me at my flat. We'll talk about them."

Hermione edged her way toward the door, Ginny following, hoping not to get caught up in any of the usual post-meeting chatter, but Molly and Arthur were standing by the door, chatting with Bill. Molly reached out and caught Hermione by the arm.

"Hermione, dear," she said. "You look so pale. What have you been doing? You should come by the house more often, dear. I can't remember the last time we saw you."

"Yes," Arthur agreed, pushing his glasses up his nose. "You know we consider you a part of the family. It would be nice to have someone young around the house since Ginny moved out."

Behind Hermione, Ginny sounded annoyed. "Dad!"

Hermione smiled awkwardly. "I'll see when I can come by. I've been working on something for the Order . . ."

"Does it have anything to do with these Muggles?" Bill asked.

"Yes, it does," she said, and her smile smoothed into something more natural. "Good to see you. How's Fleur doing?"

Bill grinned widely, rearranging his scars. "Magnificently. She's glowing. She says her feet hurt a lot, though."

"Well, that's to be expected this far along," Molly said wisely. "I keep telling her . . ."

Hermione saw an opportunity to bow out of the conversation while Mrs. Weasley was engaged in baby talk. Waving apologetically to Bill and Mr. Weasley -- and Ginny, who had been drawn into the conversation -- she slipped out of the Room of Requirement without being stopped by anyone else.

She was concentrating on putting her thoughts in order and going where her feet took her, so it was with some surprise that she looked up and found that she had walked to the white tomb by the lake. She stood there for a moment with her hands in the pockets of her anorak, staring at the inscription on the tomb.

Albus Dumbledore
1841-1996
Hogwarts Headmaster

Hermione sighed. She opened her mouth, found she had nothing to say, and closed it again. No matter her personal loyalty to Remus, she privately thought that this war had gone rather better when Dumbledore was running it, if only because Voldemort was secretly terrified of him.

Finally, she said simply, "I wish you were here." Conjuring some flowers and laying them on the tomb, she walked off toward the Hogwarts gates. Hagrid had left the meeting first and was waiting at the gates to let the members of the Order out. With a cheery "All righ', Hermione?", he let her out onto the road away from the school.

Hermione Apparated into her flat. No messages from Wesley. Well, he'd call when he was ready. She was in the middle of straightening the pillows on the sofa when a knock on the door heralded Ginny's arrival. "Want some tea?" she asked Ginny as she let her in, pulling her wand out.

Ginny pulled her own wand out. "Yes," she answered. Hermione recognized the wand movements and approved -- Ginny was casting good, strong wards. She busied herself bringing up her own wards and gave Ginny's a check. Hermione wasn't sure that her flat was being monitored, but she wouldn't put it past the Ministry in its current state. She'd worked out a rather elaborate code of seemingly innocuous questions that actually meant something more, but the tea question was asked the most.

"Now then," Hermione said, once the wards were built. "Do you want some tea?"

"It'd be nice," Ginny said. "I have a feeling I'm going to need it. What makes these Muggles so special, then?"

With a couple taps of her wand, Hermione boiled the water and started the process of making tea for the two of them. When she was done, she carried the mugs out of the corner nook that served as her kitchen and sat beside Ginny on the sofa.

Ginny was probably the closest thing Hermione had to a confidante. She started at the top of the story and wound Ginny all the way through to her last conversation with Wesley earlier that day. When she was done talking, Ginny sat back, looking a little gobsmacked. "They can do magic? And they're working on finding the Horcruxes?"

"Yes. I hope he can turn up something. I never did manage to find what Voldemort might have had that was Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's."

Ginny regarded Hermione with a sort of hard look. "When you go to find the Horcruxes," she said firmly. "I'm coming with you."

Hermione was taken aback. She ought to have expected this. "Ginny. You can't. There's too many people going along already."

"If anyone deserves to go, it's me. You're doing this to help Harry, aren't you? I think I have as much right to help him as you do. More, maybe."

Hermione was silent, considering this. Ginny was a more than capable witch. She was fearless in battle. She understood the way Voldemort thought in a way few others did. But she was also rash, headstrong, and at a tactical disadvantage -- a curse she had taken last year during a fight with a Death Eater had left her blind and deaf on the left side.

She was also utterly in the right about Harry.

"You're not over him, are you?" she asked.

Ginny gave her a pitying look. "Are you over Ron?" she asked, as if the answer should be obvious.

Sighing, Hermione had to concede that on that point she was right. Ron had been murdered by Death Eaters as a warning to Harry, and the pain over that one still kept her up at night.

"All right," Hermione said. "I'll ask the others. I can't make any promises."

"I'm coming with you," Ginny repeated, and that was that. There were very few people on the planet more stubborn than Ginevra Weasley when she had made up her mind about something. Hermione let it drop. It wasn't worth fighting over, and she was sure she could find a way to convince Remus.

Ginny stared morosely into her cup of tea for a few moments. "Sometimes I think it's easier for you," she said.

"Pardon?"

"At least you know Ron is dead. With Harry it's just -- he's there, but he's not. He's just my crazy ex-boyfriend that's locked up in his house because there's an evil hit squad after him."

Hermione settled back against the cushions of her sofa. "You don't have to . . ."

"Wait for him? Yes, I do," Ginny snapped. "Has there ever been anyone for me besides Harry?"

Once again, Ginny was right. Hermione knew Ginny's early infatuation had developed into a real love, one that Harry appeared to return . . . at least he had before he was shut in Grimmauld Place.

In her turn, Hermione stared into her teacup, as if the secrets of the universe were at the bottom. "At least after this you might have a chance with Harry. I'm working -- I'm trying to make him well."

"Is that so?" Ginny was a little cool. "Because his health and welfare were so important to you for the past four years."

Hermione went pink. "I've been working for the Order."

"So have I." Ginny grimaced, set her teacup on the coffee table, and flopped back against the sofa. "Look, never mind," she muttered. "I didn't mean to start a fight. If you can do anything to fix him, we'll all be grateful. Let's talk about something else. Have you heard what Dean Thomas is up to?"

***

Hermione woke up the next morning and groaned. Ginny had stayed late gossiping in an effort to distract themselves from what they were facing. The Tranquility Potion was done and perfect, so after she finished getting ready, she bottled some in a Mason jar and Apparated over to Grimmauld Place.

"Harry?" she called as she locked the door behind her. "Harry, are you here?" She knew he was -- there was no way he could leave -- but it was polite to ask.

No answer. Hermione considered where he tended to hide and went looking for him. She found him in the second place she went looking, his bedroom. He was laying on the bed, looking out into space.

"Harry?" she asked. He didn't even turn to acknowledge her. This was obviously one of his non-responsive days. She stepped into his line of sight and knelt down so she was right at eye level. "Harry, it's Hermione. I've brought your potion. Remember, you promised you'd take it."

Still no response. She sighed and by poking and prodding managed to get him to roll onto his back. Lifting his head, she held the potion to his lips and coerced him into drinking it. The Tranquility Potion wouldn't cure him, but it would at least give him some peace while she waited for Mundungus to produce her medicine.

There was no point in staying. Harry plainly wasn't talking today. She touched him on the cheek, once, and left.

***

Her mobile started buzzing frantically once she left the wards around Grimmauld Place, telling her she had new voicemail. Hermione discovered Wesley had left her a message saying that he'd made "some progress" and requesting that they meet at her convenience. She called him back at the number he'd left and got him on the second ring.

"Wyndam-Pryce," he said crisply.

"Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. It's Hermione Granger."

"Miss Granger. I just left you a message --"

"I know. My mobile was out of service. When should we meet?"

"Well, I'm certainly available right now. When can you be here?"

"Where are you located?"

Wesley gave her the address. Hermione considered. Wolfram & Hart was down in the City, from the sound of it, and she hadn't been in the City enough to be able to Apparate. It'd have to be the tube, then.

"I can be there in an hour," she said.

"We'll be expecting you," Wesley said, and hung up. Hermione was briefly and intensely annoyed.

An hour and a trip on the tube later -- Hermione had very nearly hexed one man who insisted on standing a little close and smelled like he hadn't washed in decades -- she was walking into the lobby of the London branch of Wolfram & Hart. She looked around in amazement. Down to the grass growing by the elevators, it was an exact copy of the Los Angeles branch. The only difference was that this office had a dark-haired and quite professional receptionist seated under the Wolfram & Hart sign.

With a feeling of something more than déjà vu, Hermione approached the receptionist. "I'm here to meet Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," she said.

"Yes, miss," said the receptionist. "He's been expecting you. I'll call."

Hermione loitered nervously while the receptionist dialed Wesley. A few polite words, and the receptionist hung up and said briskly, "He'll be right out to fetch you, miss."

The receptionist hadn't finished speaking when Wesley appeared, looking scraggly and worn-out. He did manage to put some genuine feeling into his "Good morning, Miss Granger."

"Good morning," said Hermione.

"This way," Wesley said, heading back the way he came. He led her straight to the office he occupied in Los Angeles. This one held Illyria, glaring out the window at the River Thames.

Hermione noted the nameplate on the desk. "You've given someone the boot?"

Wesley had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "We are a bit . . . senior to the associates here. They make us welcome. Anyway, I've been researching these Horcruxes in Wolfram & Hart's library."

Hermione perked up. "Wolfram & Hart has a library?"

"Quite," Wesley said, and the expression on his face was deadpan. "I've found a couple mentions of Horcruxes, and I wanted to run them by you."

"Really." Intrigued, Hermione wanted to know more. She hadn't thought any information about something as deeply magical as Horcruxes would have survived the information purge that followed the enacting of the International Statute of Secrecy -- and what was a law firm doing with books on magic anyway? One that has a vampire as its chief executive, Hermione thought, and wondered.

"If you'll follow me, I'll take you to the library," Wesley said, gesturing to the door. She stood, and he preceded her out the door. They set off deeper into Wolfram & Hart, Hermione losing her way after they went upstairs. The corridors twisted and turned and mostly looked the same. Probably intentional, she figured, to prevent anyone from finding anything that might be valuable.

Finally, they came to a set of double doors with a reader device set to one side. Wesley pressed his thumb against the reader, and the locks popped open with an audible chunk. He opened the door and stood aside, gesturing Hermione through.

Hermione sucked in a quick gasp at the size of the library. Easily as large as the great Hogwarts library, it was two stories tall and ran off into the distance, stacks and stacks of books. She suppressed the urge to find a section that interested her and start pulling books off the shelves.

"Research in our branch is easier," said Wesley, behind her. "Using the sourcebooks, I can call up the text of any book stored in Wolfram & Hart's library. More useful than you'd think. But here, they don't have the sourcebooks."

He stepped around Hermione and led her through the stacks to a carrel off to one side. Several books were stacked on the table, and Hermione tilted her head to read the spines. An Encyclopedia of Magical Artefacts; Grosvenor's Grimoire; The Black Lexicon. Some titles, such as Magick Most Evile, she recognized. Some of the books didn't have names on the spines.

Wesley rummaged through the stacks and pulled out The Black Lexicon and one of the unnamed books, handing the unnamed book to Hermione. She opened the cover and discovered a handwritten blackletter inscription identifying the book as the Materia Magica.

"That's the book I wanted to run by you," Wesley said. "It seems to have been written by a wizard, or at least someone familiar with your kind of magic, because there are some references I don't understand. It appears to have been written in the 14^th century or thereabouts. Meanwhile, I --" he pulled the largest volume out of the stack, another of the unnamed volumes -- "will continue to work on this one."

Hermione studied the book Wesley was holding. The book, which was nearly the size of a paving stone, had covers that appeared to be made of fine-grained black leather. It looked somehow greasy, as if oil had been spilled on it and never wiped up. "Which book is that?" she asked.

Wesley hefted the book and looked grim. "The Book Which Is Not Named," he said. "Widely considered to be so evil that naming it was forbidden, in the hopes that it would be lost."

Hermione blinked. She shuddered to think what Voldemort would be able to do with a book like that, a library like this, and again wondered what she had gotten herself into. It was looking more and more like she had recruited the most evil law firm on earth to combat the most evil wizard on earth.

She took the Materia Magica over to a table and dropped into a chair, already reading the cramped script. Wesley took a seat on the opposite side of the table, a few seats down, frowning at The Book Which Is Not Named. They read in silence for a few minutes until Hermione said, "How long have you been living in Los Angeles?"

Wesley did not reply immediately and she added, "I'm sorry -- I think better when I'm talking. You're probably a quiet researcher."

"No," he said after a moment, "no, it's all right. Five years. I was sent out to be a Watcher, actually, but it didn't go very well. I ended up staying, fell in with Angel, and here we are today."

Hermione made a wry face. "Sounds like me and Harry. What sent you to Los Angeles, if you don't mind me asking?"

There was another pause, then Wesley said, "The Council." She was rummaging through her memory to find where she'd heard that term before, when he added, "Of Watchers. They sent me for a Slayer."

Gingerly turning pages of the Materia Magica, Hermione asked, "What happened?"

"She didn't want me. Shortly after, neither did the Council. Have you found the pages I was talking about?"

She started. "Oh -- no." Caught in old habits, she'd been reading the book rather than searching for information on Horcruxes.

Wesley looked up from the Book Which Is Not Named. "I know. It's easy to get distracted from what you're looking for. The section on Horcruxes is toward the middle of the book."

Hermione flicked through several pages, scanning intently, until the word "Horcrux" leapt out at her. Frowning, she set in to read.

***

Three days passed without any contact from Wesley, until abruptly her mobile rang again. Wesley confirmed that he had "made some discoveries," although he refused to tell her what they were, and again requested that they meet. Hermione repeated the whole rigamarole with the tube, and three-quarters of an hour later, she was again seated in his borrowed office, looking expectantly across the desk at him.

"After that session in the library -- which was most helpful, thank you -- and after a bit of work, I think I have something on the Horcruxes." He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a sheet of paper, handing it to Hermione. It was a map of the British Isles, with three locations picked out with dots.

"It's not the locations of the remaining Horcruxes, is it?" she asked.

"It is," Wesley confirmed. "Only generalities, but those should be enough to point us in the right direction. I apologize that I could only find three."

Hermione burned with curiosity about the magic that had produced a result like this. Her own location spells, no matter how carefully executed, had been fruitless. Voldemort had managed to conceal the Horcruxes from ordinary magic, which she had been careful to point out. Obviously Wesley had gotten something different out of the Book Which Is Not Named than she had.

She had a sudden suspicion. "Can you search for a person?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Do it. Search for Harry Potter."

"Don't you know where he is?"

Hermione gave Wesley a look. "I've got an idea."

"I'll need some supplies. Wait here."

Five minutes later, Wesley was back with a handful of supplies for what Hermione assumed was the Muggle version of the Locator Charm. It seemed to require some colored sand, white candles, and a blank sheet of paper. Hermione watched curiously as Wesley poured a circle of sand and then set the paper in the center of the circle and the candles at specific points along the circle. He said an invocation as he lit the candles in a certain order, and then sat back and waited.

Hermione gasped. A map was drawing itself on the paper. After a few minutes, it seemed to be done and Wesley extinguished the candles in the reverse order from which he had lighted them. He handed the paper to Hermione. "Is this correct?"

She examined it closely. The streets weren't labeled, but after a few moments she recognized them as the streets around Grimmauld Place. More distressingly, a small dot sat upon Grimmauld Place. It wasn't possible. Grimmauld Place was under a Fidelius Charm and it was Unplottable. Those two alone should have been enough to keep the spell from locating Harry. That wasn't taking into account the many spells she, Lupin, Dumbledore, and Orion Black, Sirius's father had laid on the house.

Hermione didn't like the implications. "Evanesco!" she said, aiming her wand at the paper in her hand. It instantly disappeared. "Don't tell anyone you can find Harry. It would probably be a good idea not to mention you can find objects at all."

"I hadn't intended to." Wesley abruptly changed the topic. "What do you want to do next?"

"I need to talk to Remus. I'd imagine we'll be going to find the Horcruxes. I'll ring you when we're ready to leave. Meanwhile, I've got to be going. Thank you for this," Hermione said, holding up the Horcrux map. "We hadn't been able to find out even this much before now."

"Quite welcome. Good day, Miss Granger."

***

After calling to make sure Remus was up and about, Hermione Apparated across the river to his flat. She immediately launched into an explanation about the map she carried and with somewhat more concern related the tale of the map that led to Harry that she had destroyed.

Remus listened with a neutral expression on his face, frowning slightly when she mentioned that Wesley's magic had been able to find Harry. "Well, it's to be expected," he said, once Hermione was finished speaking. "Their magic doesn't work like ours. I was able to tell that by working with Mr. Giles."

"I'm worried about Voldemort possibly finding Harry this way, though. He isn't so keen on Muggles, I know, but he may not care about where this came from if he can use it to reach Harry."

"Well, he'd have to know about Muggle magic to think of using it to find Harry, and -- dammit." Remus broke off, appearing to remember something. "He knows about Muggle magic. I'd forgotten until now. Mr. Giles had a friend that was captured by Voldemort. We had to rescue him. Voldemort was having the man try to kill Albus. Well, if he hasn't tried to use it by now I doubt he will, Hermione."

"What about the friend?" Hermione asked suspiciously. "Where is he?"

"I don't know, Hermione. As I recall, we freed him and he went on his way." He saw the expression on her face and said, "I'll look Mr. Giles up and ask him, if that will make you happy."

"And I'll talk to Wesley about finding a Muggle way to shield Harry. I wish we'd thought of this before now."

Remus excused himself and left the flat. Hermione called Wesley, who assured her that he would work on blocking Harry from locator spells and that there were a few ways that should work fairly well. Harry's safety assured, Hermione located Remus's battered copy of Hogwarts, A History and settled in to read until he returned.

***

A few hours later, Lupin returned. "I've found him. I told him it was urgent and he told me to meet him at the office. Are you ready for Side-Along Apparation?"

"Of course," Hermione said, although Side-Along Apparation usually made her sick to her stomach for a few minutes.

They Apparated in behind a skip beside a brick building. "Where are we?" Hermione asked.

"Up in Bloomsbury," Remus said. He led her around the corner and up the unassuming front steps. Hermione guessed the building for slightly post-war vintage. The foyer was rather narrow, but they'd managed to cram a receptionist in.

"I'm here to see Mr. Giles?" Remus said in a pleasant tone of voice.

The receptionist pointed. "Through those doors."

Hermione trailed after Lupin as he walked toward the doors the receptionist had indicated. He paused in the doorway. "Giles?"

"Remus! Good to see you. Please, come in."

Remus stepped in and they both found seats across from Mr. Giles. Hermione summed him up and decided that this was who Lupin would have been if he weren't a wizard and a werewolf. Mr. Giles was slightly tweedy, his hairline was receding slightly, and he was wearing a pair of small wire-rimmed glasses. His face bore the lines of middle-age, but Hermione could see a goodly number of laugh lines, though his face was solemn at the moment.

A half-full teacup and saucer sat on his desk, on top of a stack of books. Hermione looked around the office in her peripheral vision and decided that Mr. Giles might be the only person who had more books than Remus.

"This is Hermione Granger," Remus said, once they were seated.

"Pleased to meet you," Mr. Giles said, reaching a hand over his desk. "You said it was urgent. What can I help you with?"

"I'm sure you remember summer 1981," Remus said. "You had a friend that was working with Voldemort. We had to rescue him."

Mr. Giles's face hardened slightly. "Yes, Ethan. Ethan Rayne."

"That was his name. Are you still in contact with him? Do you know what he's doing?"

"No, I haven't talked to Ethan in . . . oh, about four years, I'd say. He played a bit of a prank on me that could have gone rather badly and a friend of ours had him placed in military custody in Nevada. Why? Is Ethan up to something? I wouldn't put it past him."

Hermione was reassured. The one person Voldemort knew who could perform Muggle magic was where Voldemort couldn't get at him. The wizarding world lived or died by whether she could keep Harry safe.

"No, he hasn't been doing anything," Remus said. "We were just worried for his safety. You know how he fell in with Voldemort last time."

"Last time? So he's active again?" Mr. Giles sat back. "The things I miss."

"Thank you, Mr. Giles," Hermione said.

"Sorry to leave so quickly," Remus apologized, "but we are rather in a hurry."

"No, no, no, that's all right," Mr. Giles said. "I was just in the middle of something myself. There's a -- well, I'm not really sure what it is, but it's out bothering people and we've got to do something about it."

"Good luck," Hermione said. She and Remus said their goodbyes and left the building.

"Well, it's certainly good that this Ethan Rayne person is in military custody. I wonder what it was he did," Hermione mused. "He doesn't really sound like a very nice person, playing pranks on people. Did you know him?"

"A little," said Remus. He fell silent as they walked around behind the skip and Apparated back.

"What are you thinking?" Hermione asked, walking across the small green.

"When do you want to leave?"

"Next week. There's some things I have to do before we go."

Remus nodded. "Let me know when you're ready. I'll call a meeting before we go."

***

The next day, as promised, Mundungus produced her medication for Harry, and he came through with enough to last Harry three months. He did make some noises about "lost some perfectly good Xanax and gettin' nothing in return" but Hermione silenced him with a look.

Medication in hand, it was time to go. Remus called a meeting of those closest to Harry, which included Remus and Hermione, plus Molly and Arthur Weasley, Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Minerva McGonagall, Rubeus Hagrid, and Arabella Figg. All had been present at the earlier meeting and so knew about the Muggle team, but the search for the Horcruxes was new information.

"Ginny, Hermione, and I will be leaving with the Muggle team," Remus said. "We don't know where we're going or how long we'll be gone. We'll try to stay in contact but it may not be possible. Minerva, I'd like you to be in charge while I'm gone."

"Of course, Remus," McGonagall said.

"Someone will need to keep an eye on Harry," Hermione said. "I've got medication for him and there's no guarantee he'll be well enough to take it himself. Someone will need to visit him every day and make sure he gets it."

Hermione could see that Molly Weasley was about to volunteer, but Neville beat her to it. "I'll do it," he said, surprising at least two people in the group.

"You're sure?" Hermione asked.

Neville nodded. "I owe him," he said. "I'll do it."

"He needs talked to," Hermione said. "His favorite thing to do is clam up and not talk about what's bothering him, and he won't get better if he doesn't talk. You might have to annoy him until he yells at you."

"Okay," Neville said. He managed a weak smile at Hermione. "I'll treat him like I do my plants."

Which meant, in Neville's terms, that he would be receiving the best and tenderest care Neville had to give. Hermione looked at Lupin. "Anything else you can think of?"

"No," he said. "We'll be leaving as soon as it's safe to travel."

"Oh, take care, Remus," Molly Weasley said. "You too, Ginny. Stay out of trouble."

Arthur Weasley regarded his only daughter. "Do what you have to do, Ginny. But come back home."

"I will," she said.

The Weasleys hugged Hermione and Ginny, Mrs. Weasley clinging to Ginny. Hermione was seized with a sudden desire to hug her parents, but that wasn't something she had time to do before they left. She settled herself with knowing that if this worked, they could come home from their Canadian exile.

With a few more goodbyes and some blotted tears from Mrs. Weasley, they left.