Indeed We Fall

***

Indeed We Fall

By Max-chan

"Is it true, Albus?" she asked him late in the night, her chin shaking indiscernibly. "Are James and Lily - "

He sighed and his voice sounded so old to her when he said, "James and Lily are dead, Minerva, and Voldemort has taken Harry."

The wizarding world hitched their breath and waited for his next decision.

***

Fourteen Years Later

The first thing he noticed was the intense need to use the bathroom.

His left side was numb with coldness and he blinked hard several times to clear the blurring lines of color that had become his vision. He coughed and that act only served to alert him to the fact that a thick line, from the back of his neck to the top of his skull, was pulsing with burning pain.

"Hell," he mumbled and wondered if he had just given name to the place he seemed to be occupying. Except for the orange flickers of what he knew to be candle flames, the boy could not make out anything other than gray.

Something pounded, he knew because the sound caused the ground he laid on to tremor slightly, and something else scurried.

Probably a rat, he thought before he heard the distant cries of "Professor! Professor!" invaded his ears.

Harry groaned and closed his eyes as he begged for the darkness again.

***

It was brighter when he opened his eyes again and the ground wasn't so cold. If Harry were the kind of person who thanked for small favors, he would done so. As fortune would have it, Harry Potter was an all or nothing kind of person and so he only cursed at the false joys. When he could think past the pain in his head (around his head, on his head, wherever it happened to be, he couldn't tell), the boy who lived flickered his eyelids open and stared at the sky.

Or what was bewitched to look like the sky. He wasn't stupid. He knew he was locked inside a room.

Harry leaned on his good arm and coughed some more. He saw red (like his master's eyes) splatter onto the stone surface.

A voice asked politely, "Lemon drop, Harry?"

As though he was some idiot child who could be won over by false kindness and sweets.

Harry spat at the ground and noted dully that there was some blood in the saliva.

"No?" the voice inquired, not losing any of its politeness.

The boy shifted his head so that his eyes could meet the bottom of a chin and yards of cloudy hair.

"Die Dumbledore," he whispered with a cracking voice.

"Well, it certainly seems to me that you aren't that well, Harry - "

Again! Saying his name with such ease and familiarity. The hatred rose up in Harry like bile and he knew he had to do something or choke on it.

"I said, DIE DUMBLEDORE!" he shouted before cringing at the onslaught of pain the erupted in his head.

"I am sorry, Harry," the same voice said, only this time it was much sadder.

No, you're not, Harry though as he hoped the pain would carry him away like waves. You're evil and evil can't be sorry.

***

The second person he saw was three days after he had woken up the second time. By then he had learned that he was in some sort of stone room with a pile of desks to one side and that the ceiling was bewitched to look like the sky. It must have been that way because they would never put in the effort to make anything comfortable for him. The idea was ludicrous. When they discovered he was fully conscious, they sent someone to tie him up.

The man had long dark hair and when he entered the room, he refused to meet Harry's eyes. At the sight of him, Harry began to scream with all the hatred in him. Here was man he hated more than Dumbledore.

"Murderer! Hateful, traitorous murderer!"

The man flinched but did not deter from his process toward where Harry laid on the floor. The boy used every ounce of his strength to move the few millimeters back. Black just picked the shrieking teenager up and brought him over to where the wooden pole stood rooted in the ground (the only place where the stone was uprooted and dirt could be seen). He said nothing as he tied Harry to the pole.

"Did they scream when you killed them, Black?" Harry spat viciously, all his energy focused on the man tying him up. "Did they wonder why their best friend would turn into a blood betraying traitor who would turn to Dumbledore? Did he offer you a place high among the dirt, the mudbloods and the filth? Did he? Is that why you killed them! Tell me!"

By the time Black was done, Harry had screeched himself hoarse and tears were streaking down his face.

"Tell me, you bastard," he whispered brokenly.

Black just loomed over the crying boy and said nothing. He gulped and walked out of the room.

Harry leaned his head against the pole and waited for hope.

***

"I can't do it, Minerva."

The sounds floated into Harry's right ear. His black hair was matted with a revolting mixture of grime and sweat. The sun warmed the right side of his face. His left was leaning against the pole.

"We understand, Sirius, but the situation calls for - "

"I can't, Minerva! I can't look at James's face and see such hatred. You don't understand. Not after - I can't."

Harry could fool himself into believing he had been in worst situations, but he hasn't. Not even when those Aurors caught him and forced that awful liquid down his throat and watched on in amusement as he sputtered and choked. Not even then.

"What else can we do? Someone needs to speak to him - reach him."

There was silence, sweet blessed silence, for a while before the traitor said calmly, "I don't think we can reach him, Minerva. He's too far gone. It would be better for everyone if we just - "

"We are not going to harm a fifteen year old boy, Sirius!" the woman exclaimed.

Harry didn't know he could stay here much longer. He wanted to stay strong for his lord, but it was so hard when there were no familiar faces.

"Well, what about the other boy?"

Black's question was uttered in low tones, but Harry still heard him. Harry moved his head up and his senses woke up with full force. His breathing came in and out quickly.

"Hermione Granger's dealing with him. We would have had Bill do it, but he couldn't. He couldn't take it."

"Oh and you expected I could?"

Please let it be - please -

"We didn't expect anything, Sirius, but we had to try. I suppose you may resume your regular duties now. We'll have Miss. Granger deal with him as well as the Weasley boy. She's certainly very mature for a young lady her age."
"Aren't we all?"

Harry barely heard that last sentence for his thoughts were so jumbled with an irrational kind of hope.

Ron was alive.

Ron was here.

***

Harry had been anticipating the arrival of the Granger girl for hours. He didn't sleep that night, but worked out what he would say to her instead. How he could convince her to let him see Ron.

She wasn't quite what he expected.

Hermione Granger entered the room briskly and bolted the door behind her. She obviously understood procedure. If anything happened to her, Harry Potter would not be leaving this room. Of course, they wouldn't have assigned her to the job if they didn't believe her capable. She walked with purposeful steps across the room and the sound of her shoes clicking on the stone floor came as refreshing to Harry, who had gotten used to the monotony.

"Take one step out of line and I will not hesitate to hurt you," she stated flatly as she untied him. Harry eyed the wand in her hand before making his way into the bathroom (and that too, surely, was not included for him). When he entered the room again after a cold scrub, he saw her standing by the wall.

Her wand was pointed at him when she said, "The breakfast plate is over there. Sit down and eat. If you take one step out of line - "

"I know," Harry growled along with his stomach as he made his way over to the plate and cup. "You'll not hesitate to hurt me. I learn fast."

"Good skill," the Granger girl said brusquely before sitting down herself.

As he ate, Harry covertly eyed the girl. She had rather bushy hair and looked about his age. Maybe she was just misinformed. Maybe Dumbledore lied to her and she didn't understand that she was on the wrong side. Maybe he could even convince her to be good.

Filled with new hope, Harry gulped down the last droplets of water and asked her, "How long do you have to be here?"

"An hour," she answered automatically. "Four times each day. To each of you. That's eight hours out of my life for two murdering Death Eaters."

"Each of us?" Harry queried slowly, hoping she couldn't hear his heart beat. "There's two of us?"

Her brown eyes, like an eagle's, landed onto him.

"You and the other Death Eater," she said coolly. "Don't act like you didn't know. Nobody bothered to hide it from you."

Harry tried to maintain the innocent act.

"Really? There were twelve of us - which one are you talking about?"

Granger narrowed her eyes before saying, "Red hair. Really tall. Should have ignorant git sewed into his skin."

"That would be Ron," Harry said as he felt the first smile beginning to form on his face. Ah yes, the conversation was definitely going where he wanted it to go.

"Yes,'' the witch said as her mouth pinched angrily. "Ron."

Harry wondered what his best friend could have done to anger her so much. Surely Ron could see the benefits of having another young witch on their side. Especially one who was strong enough to be trusted with two prisoners.

"Granger? Hermione Granger? I don't remember a wizarding family by that name," Harry murmured quizzically. "Was your family very rural?"

The girl stared at him with something unknown in her eyes.

Finally, she said with perfect calm, "My parents were Muggles."

"Mudblood?" Harry shrieked and the accusation resounded even in the echo.

The girl didn't even flinch. She just looked at him and something like pity entered her eyes.

"Funny," she said softly. "Your friend yelled the exact same thing."

Harry found himself sputtering. He had been talking with a mudblood? He had addressed filth as though it was his equal. He had considered bringing her to his lord! He had spoken to an evil, mindless mudblood and almost fell into the belief that it could think!

"Get away from me, mudblood!" he yelled at her as he scrambled up.

Hermione stood up slowly and pointed her wand at him.

"Go back to the pole," she commanded. Harry stood resolute.

"Now," she demanded.

He refused to move.

Hermione shook her head before muttering, "Petrificus Totalus."

Harry stood frozen as the mudblood's tainted magic touched him.

***

"Professor, I don't know what I can do."

"Anything you can, Miss. Granger. I know it must be hard on you with the research on top of this and we wouldn't ask you if we had any other choice. As things stand, however, you are the only member of the Order who either does not have more pressing duties or does not have a personal attachment to Potter and Weasley."

"I know Bill can't, but what about Fred and George - "

"I found that with their temperament, it would be best not to tell them yet. Not when we have reason now to believe that the Weasley girl may be alive also."

"So no one - "

"But you, Hermione. Do try your best. Just listen to them, whatever they have to say. They're as much victims of Voldemort as the rest of us."

"I know, Professor, it's just - they hate me."

"No, they don't. They hate what they think you are."

***

"Get out of here, mudblood!"

Harry shouted that when he saw her enter.

"I don't need to use the bathroom. Go!" he screamed. Hermione just sighed, but just sat across from him, far enough away so that he could not spit on her.

"I want to talk with you," she said frankly.

"I don't talk with filth," he shot back.

Hermione just sighed.

"If you don't talk with me, I won't let you see your friend again. If you would speak with me, I'll arrange for him to share this room with you," she proposed.

Harry ground his teeth and pursed his lips.

After a moment, the girl asked, "Why do you hate Muggle-borns so much? Even more so than Muggles?"

"Why?" Harry laughed. "Why? Don't you even know your vices, mudblood? At least Muggle-borns accept that they are filth. They don't degrade and humiliate themselves by believing they are more than they are. Mudbloods are in-between. Not making a decision is worst than being evil."

"And you think I'm evil?" she questioned and now, her voice was angry.

"What else? You and your whole lot are evil. You need to be purged from this Earth so that you won't taint the good wizards and witches."

"And who told you this?" Hermione said sarcastically. "Your lord? Did he tell you this when you were bowing and scraping at his feet or when you returned home from killing innocent children and their families?"

Harry scoffed.

"Stupid mudblood," he said. "It isn't murder if they aren't human."

That shut her up.

Hermione's face had gone pale and she stood up slowly. She looked at him with amazement. Something stirred uneasily in Harry, but he squashed it. Mudbloods couldn't feel.

"You really believe that, don't you?"

It was spoken softly and any smaller; it wouldn't have existed at all.

Harry said nothing, but looked away from her.

***

"What can I do? I can't go to Professor McGonagall again or Professor Dumbledore. They have their own worries."

"Just - keep trying, Hermione. You can't be expected to work miracles or change fifteen years worth of brainwashing, but you shouldn't give up either."

"I know."

A sigh. She did that a lot.

"I'm sorry, Neville. As though you didn't have enough on your shoulders with the Prophecy and all."

"It's okay, Hermione. He hasn't marked me yet, right? That means I don't have to worry too much."

"But when the time does come - "

"Yeah. I know."

***

"How can you hate Dumbledore so much? When he hasn't even done anything to you."

Hermione asked the prisoner this in their sixteenth session after no progress had been made.

"Oh yeah, how can I hate a man who works to allow evil to exist. How can I hate a man who ordered to have my parents killed and tortured. How can I?"

His voice was bitter like the food that he had grown to hate and the sky he couldn't bear to look at anymore.

"Dumbledore didn't - "

"You can spare me the lies. I've been told them before."

Hermione remained where she was. Her knees were pulled up to her chest and she allowed the brown curtain of hair to frame and hide her face. It wearied her more day by day. Even the time she spent in the library could barely soothe her anymore.

Finally (what the heck? it's not like she hadn't tried everything else and failed), she asked, "What's your favorite color?"

Harry's head snapped he gazed at her suspiciously, "Why do you care?"

"I don't know, but I do. What is it? Remember about our agreement," reminded Hermione.

Harry sneered before saying, "Gold."

"That's not a color."

"Red then."

A smile spread across Hermione's otherwise pale face and she lifted her head so that the hair fell out of her face. She stared at him and her eyes were swimming with something that disconcerted the boy very much.

"What?" he demanded.

"Nothing," she answered.

Hope flew with quick wings like the little owl that Sirius kept around him.

***

His black, damp hair dripped cold water as the boy glared at the plate in front of him.

"If you think this will endear me to you, mudblood, you're wrong," he informed her. "I only told you pumpkin pasties were my favorite because you asked. Not because I expected any favors."

Hermione blew an annoyed breath.

"Just like your friend! I know you're ignorant and working for a Dark Lord, but didn't he ever teach you how to be nice? Or was he too busy teaching you how to kill to - "

"Don't speak to me of evil, mudblood. At least my master doesn't order the deaths of two innocent, good people with a - "

"Oh get off it!"

Her scream shot at Harry and he turned shocked eyes to the girl. Her face was flushed and she stomped about the room, with her hair flying every which way.

"Just get off it! Let's not even talk about the obvious, okay? Let's not even talk about who's good and who's evil. Let's just deal with facts. All you do is go on and on about your parents and yes, I admit that your situation is horrendous, but don't you even stop to think that it can excuse anything that you do!" her voice was getting thicker and thicker which every sentence she yelled.

"You were just a baby! Try being seven, okay, seven! Try being seven and sitting at your dinner table with the only two people in the world who mattered and having people rush into your home, where it's supposed to be safe. Try imagining strange arms grabbing you and pulling you away from your parents, from your home, with a strange voice telling you it will be okay when you sob and cry for your mum and dad. Try being high above the ground on a shaky broomstick for the first time, flying away from your only home with your parents' screams chasing after you. Try waking up and having them explain to you that they got you out barely in time, but could do nothing for your parents - your parents who were tortured because they wouldn't, couldn't, say where you were. Try being seven and told, 'hey, guess what, Hemione, your parents, who you just saw a few hours ago, are dead and you are now another soldier in a war you didn't even know existed.' Try that and then tell me it's a good excuse for what you do."

She was crying as she said this and Harry could do nothing but stare at her with an open mouth. Her grief was so real and that was what hit him. She felt this pain. It was a part of her. She understood it. It made her human.

"Mudblood," he murmured, but there was no hate in his voice. There was only empathy, but she didn't hear it.

Hermione shook her head in disgust and walked out of the room.

***

She didn't come back for the last two sessions of that day and Harry would have thought she had given up if she hadn't shown up the next morning with dry eyes.

After he had used the bathroom and was tied again, Harry asked her, "Do you know that you're evil?"

Hermione would have been offended if she hadn't heard the true wonder in his voice.

"I'm not evil, Potter," she said sadly.

He looked confused and she could tell by the darkness under his eyes that he hadn't slept.

"But how can that be?" he said, more to himself than to her.

"Why?" she questioned back. "Why isn't it possible that I just might be good?"

"Because you're a mudblood," he answered dimly.

Hermione seated herself.

"Who told you that, Potter?"

"My lord and he never lies."

"Then why are you asking me this now?"

"Because," Harry explained in confusion, "he also said that mudbloods can't feel, just like Muggles, but yesterday, you felt."

"Then the question is, is he wrong or is he lying? Or maybe it's, what else did he claim to be true that isn't?"

Harry looked at the ceiling and saw three people he presumed to be Aurors fly over on their broomsticks.

"I can fly really well," he told her absently.

"I know," Hermione said. "And if there wasn't a war, I'm sure you would have made a great Quidditch player. A seeker, maybe. I don't know that much about it."

The boy looked at the row of desks by one wall.

"What did this room used to be?"

"A Potions classroom," Hermione, and yes, that was her name (she had a name) replied.

"What happened to it?"

"Nothing. The teacher died and nobody wanted to use it."

Harry looked at her straight in the eyes and said, "Snape. The blood traitor. I was there when they killed him. I was in training."

Hermione gulped, but said nothing.

***

The door opened and Harry saw the hair before he saw anything else. Something beat wildly inside of him at the warm, familiar sight of gangly, redheaded Ron. The door closed and Hermione pushed Ron slightly with the tip of her wand.

"I'm going, I'm going," he grumbled. His eyes lighted on Harry's and they both grinned t each other across the room before Ron ran over.

"Harry!" he cried, his laughter spilling over like cool relief.

"Ron," Harry whispered like goodness and salvation.

"Touching," a dry voice said and both boys turned to the girl standing to the side.

"Mudblood," Ron declared, but Harry knew enough about his friend to note that there was an odd lacking of true malice in Ron's voice. Ron, who had lost not only a mother and father, but his brothers as well. Ron, who was stuck in this stupid prison instead of out there protecting the only family he had left.

"You can leave us now," said Ron haughtily.

Hermione planted herself onto her usual place on the floor and pasted on an insipid smile.

"I don't think so. With the two of you in this room, its two hours each session now."

Rom grumbled epithets, but Harry saw his ears tinge with color.

What was going on? What was happening to them?

***

"How are you, Harry?"

A chuckle.

"As good as I can be in the prison of my enemies."

Another chuckle in return.

Then silence.

"You don't think - "

"He'll save us, Ron. He saved us when we were babies and he'll save us now."

"It's not that. I don't lose faith in him. I'm just afraid for me because - "

Harry understood.

"You feel yourself changing. Things you thought you knew you don't think you know anymore."

"It's the mudblood's fault."

"It is."

Harry agreed, only because he didn't think of her as Mudblood anymore. He thought of her as Hermione, with a name, a face, and feelings.

Ron stumbled over his words.

"It's her eyes! They're so brown and I can't stop staring at them. And the way her lips curl when she gives her lectures. You don't think she's placed a spell on us, do you? Like an obsession spell or anything?"

"No, I don't think so."

Harry said this and thought Ron had a much greater problem than he, himself, did.

***

"What do you mean we can't see him?"

Ron and Harry's conversation was cut short by that rather loud shout outside the large door.

They could make out Hermione's stern voice.

"We wanted to tell you two, but we believed it best that we didn't because we thought you might - "

"Best? Best? To keep us from our own brother when all this time - "

" - act against you better judgment, if you two had any to begin with. He's not your brother. He's spent years with - "

"We've heard all this from Bill already."

"Now, either let us in or move aside."

The two boys inside the room heard a very familiar sigh before the bolt was released and the large door opened. Ron and Harry turned their faces to see two identical forms bound into the room, their hair a shock-red. Harry felt his mouth go dry. He knows only two other people with that color hair.

The obvious twin stared wide-eyed at Ron as though he was an elaborate joke. They leaned on each other for support.

"By gads, they weren't lying," one twin mumbled.

"He's really alive," the other said.

Then, they both grinned and Harry suddenly found himself suffocating as they hugged Ron and by accident, included Harry in their death-grip as well.

"Ronnie!" one shouted ecstatically.

"Our little brother, alive! Oh happy day!" the other joined.

Ron sputtered and tried his best to moved away from them (which was rather fruitless since he was bound and tied to a pole).

"Gerroff me! Stupid, blood traitors of Dumbledore!"

The two backed up slightly, but did not let him go.

"Can you imagine, George?" one asked.

"Our little brother a Death Eater," George said, incredulous.

They stared rather rudely at Ron's arm.

"You don't reckon he has evil germs, do you, Fred?" George inquired.

"Suppose we could get Dumbledore to vaccinate him?" Fred offered.

"No, no, Fred, vaccinations are for if you don't have them already. See how good we studied up on Muggles - just like you told us to Hermione."

Both boys turned to give bright, charming smiles at the only witch in the room.

"O for effort but a definite T for tact. This is hardly the time or place for your quips," she told them firmly.

"Oh, but it keeps us strong," Fred wailed.

"Comic relief and all that," George said cheekily.

Ignoring them, the witch turned to the youngest boy with the red hair.

"Ron?" she asked and was that concern in her voice? Nothing was making any sense for Harry anymore.

"They're not my brothers," said Ron lowly.

"We're hurt, brother dear," one twin declared.

"How can you dis - "

Ron shrieked so loudly that they both let him go.

"YOU'RE NOT MY BROTHERS!"

Both twin gulped.

"Ron," one muttered softly.

"YOU'RE NOT MY FAMILY! GET OUT! GET OUT!"

Ron's face was entirely red and his eyes were glazed over.

"Ron," Harry murmured.

"GET OUT! GET OUT!"

***

"We can't tell them about Ginny," Ron said, his voice desperate, that night. "They can't know about Ginny."

In his mind, Harry saw a laughing girl's face.

"No, they can't," he agreed thickly.

***

Nobody said anything in the empty room. Harry didn't have anything to say, Hermione didn't know how to say what she wanted, and Ron was just being stubborn as always.

"Weasley, can't you just consider the idea that maybe we're telling the truth? I wouldn't go so far as to say your Dark Lord was deliberately lying to you (I know only to well what a reaction that'll cause), but can't you consider the thought? Look at their hair, Weasley. Look at their freckles. Look at them and tell me they're not your brothers."

Ron said nothing.

Harry watched as Hermione rubbed her eyes and her temples. It must be difficult for her, he thought, but immediately cast it aside.

"We have pictures to prove - "

When Ron finally spoke, his voice was deadpan.

"They don't mean anything. Dumbledore killed my parents and he kept what would have been my brothers to raise in his evil cause. Those two are not my brothers."

Harry knew that he should have cared more for Ron's predicament, but he could only think about one thing at the moment.

"Pictures?" he asked wonderingly. "You have pictures."

The witch honed her eyes on him.

"Yes, Potter, we have pictures."

Harry breathed in slowly.

"May I - may I see them?"

"Of course, Potter."

***

"Do we have pictures of James and Lily Potter?"

The blonde girl gazed down from her perch on the bookshelf. She was used to Hermione Granger storming into her library by now.

"Why?"

All she got in reply was a groan of exasperation.

"Do we have it or not?"

Luna slowly pointed a finger towards the stack of boxes to the side of the library.

"Third row, twelfth column, I believe."

"Thanks," Hermione said briefly before rushing off.

Luna just shook her head and got back to work on the map. Now, if they targeted this Muggle settlement, then this one, then -

***

The man and woman waved at the photographer. They were still very young and very happy. They stood in front of a house grinning.

The woman smiled sleepily at the camera and in her arms lay nestled a bundle that looked very much like a baby.

It was their wedding day and the couple, with their best man, was laughing.

Three photographs that he had never seen before, showing people he never thought he would be able to see.

"Potter?" someone said hesitantly.

"Harry," he said. "My name's Harry Potter. Thank you."

The girl had tears in her eyes.

"You're welcome, Harry."

***

She was laughing when she entered the dungeon room. Her cheeks were flushed and Harry noticed that yes, she did have very pretty, brown eyes, but not quite as pretty as another girl's he knew. He did miss Ginny so much.

"You're late again," Ron informed her unnecessarily.

"I know, but Neville and Luna held me up again," she said easily, sliding down onto her usual place.

"Neville," Ron sneered.

The smile dropped from Hermione's face, which had become guarded.

"What?"

"That's the fifth time he held you up this week," Ron said as though that explained his attitude and everything else.

"He needed my help with something. What's your problem?"

Harry had to agree with her. What was with Ron lately?

"Oh nothing, but what is he, your boyfriend?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"What are you getting at, Weasley?"

"Just that I didn't peg you for the type to shirk your duties for a boy," Ron answered.

"What!"

Hermione jumped up and her face had become flushed again, only not with humor this time.

"I would never! I always give my very best and more in this and - "

"Oh, but not when Neville's around. When Neville's around, you just forget everything and flutter to him, not caring that he's a blood traitor or that - "

"Enough!" Hermione screamed and Harry wasn't as shocked as Ron. He had seen her like this before.

"Say whatever you want to about me, Weasley, but don't you say anything about Neville! If you had gathered whatever good you may have left, after your lord was through with you, it wouldn't even be an iota of what Neville is! He's a hero and I know that must be hard for you to understand. He's going to be the one who's going to finally defeat - "

Hermione yelped and clamped her hands to her mouth as her eyes widened.

"Who's going to what?" Harry asked doggedly.

"Nothing!" Hermione yelped.

She had let something very important slip to the enemy.

***

"I think the pressure's finally getting to you, Hermione."

"Oh be quiet, Luna."

"She's right, though. I've never seen you lose control once and you've already blew up at them twice."

"They just bring out the worst in me, that's all."

"It's more than that, though. You're taking on all this research and two Death Eaters. You have to talk to Professor McGonagall, Hermione."

"And say what, Neville, 'oh I know everyone's risking their lives and their family on the battlefield but I can't handle a little reading and two boys?' I don't think so."

"Wait, how many people were on that attack?"

"What?"

"How many people were in that attack with Potter and Weasley?"

"Twelve. What are you trying to get at, Luna?"

"Nothing. It just seems strange that the Aurors killed all of them and spared those two."

***

"Professor?"

"Come in, Hermione."

"Professor Dumbledore, Luna, Neville and I were wondering something."

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Well, you gave special orders not to kill Potter and Weasley on that attack. I can understand wanting to save Weasley because of his brother - but why go through the trouble with Potter? His only ties are to Sirius and even Sirius doesn't - I mean - why?"

"Lemon drop, Hermione?"

"Yes, please."

"I'm afraid I haven't been entirely truthful when I told everyone about the Prophecy. You see, Neville wasn't the only boy it could have applied to..."

***

"I hate her."

"Why do you hate her, Ron?"

"Because I don't."

***

When Harry saw the flash of red enter the doorway, he thought the twins had returned. When he realized that the red hair belonged to a much more shorter and female body, he elbowed Ron hard so that he would wake up.

"Oh Ron!" the small form cried as she launched herself at Ron. Her hair and face was dirty and her clothes were ripped and bleeding in places.

"Huh, uh, what?" grumbled Ron before he saw the girl. His eyes widened and he yelled, "Ginny!"

"Oh, Ron, I missed you so much," the girl sobbed. "I was so scared. You didn't come back and I went looking for you."

"What? Ginny? Why are you - "

Harry caught on faster than Ron or maybe it was because he was sent on more field missions with Ginny. Whatever the reason, he understood.

"Ron!" he exclaimed happily. "Ginny must have left when she found out you were missing. It must have been horrible. Did anyone try to hurt you, Ginny?"

The girl sniffed and cried, "I don't know. There were these men with this thing on all their arms. They tried to catch me, but Ron told me they just wanted to hurt me so I ran away. I ran here."

Hermione supplied the rest of the details.

"We found a her outside of the wards last night. Apparently, she tried to run headlong into them and disturbed the magic. Why didn't you tell us she lived, Weasley?"

By now, Ron had caught on.

Harry marveled at his friend's skills as he raised his head and said defiantely, "So what? You could hurt her? I wasn't going to tell my lord about her, why would I tell you guys?"

Hermione appeared slightly hurt, but just nodded in resignation.

"I'll go tell the others," she said before leaving.

***

"How did you - "

"Lord Voldemort was so angry when you guys were taken. He sent everyone to search on how to enter the wards, but no one could figure it out. The only way in, apparently, is if you were invited. We knew they wouldn't have invited any of the Death Eaters in and so the obvious choice was me. I didn't get my Mark yet."

"Did they hurt you?"

"I can take care of myself, Ron. I've been doing this all my life, mind you. I knew what to do."

"Now, how are we going to get out?"

"Everything's worked out. I can come and go as I please around here if I keep my sniveling act up. I'm going to check the wards keeping you guys in this room. That's the only thing we have to worry about. It's like hell getting into this old place, but it's easier than cake to walk out."

"Not that we aren't grateful, Ginny, but you're not the best spell worker and - "

"Oh, don't worry about that either. After I get what wards they have working around this room, I'm going to meet with Draco and he'll figure out how to break them."

"Malfoy?"

"Yes, Ron, Malfoy."

"Ugh. I don't know what's worst. A lifetime of imprisonment or be in debt to Malfoy."

"Did he do anything to you, Ginny?"

"Besides the usual passes, no, he didn't do anything. He wouldn't dare try anything with me."

"We - we missed you Ginny."

"Yeah, I missed you too, Harry."

"Hey! What about me?"

"Not that I would ever admit this publicly, but I missed you to, brother dear."

"Don't call me brother dear. It sends chills down my spine."

"Why?"

"Don't ask."

***

"Tonight," Ginny told them when she went with Hermione to bring them their meals.

They nodded, but Ron looked at the brown-haired witch with something akin to sadness.

***

"Come on, let's go. The wards are down. Hurry!"

"How much time do we have?"

"Fifteen minutes before the disturbance sets in. Now, let's go!"

***

"Professor?"

"Come in, Hermione."

"Professor, you knew they were going to escape."

"I did."

"You knew about Ginny Weasley."

"I did."

"Then, why did you let Harry Potter go back?"

"Because, Hermione, Harry Potter is no longer our enemy. Neither, for that fact, is Ron Weasley."

"You want to - "

"You can only defeat something as strong as Voldemort's army from the inside. You do remember what I told you a few weeks ago, don't you, Hermione?"

"About the Prophecy, Professor?"

"Yes."

"I remember."

"Good. Now, would you like a lemon drop?"

"Yes, please."

***

Hermione Granger, mudblood and witch, entered the dungeon room. She laid on the hard stone floor and stared at the bewitched ceiling.

She waited for the sky to fall.