Hermione's Letter

Chapter 11

Within ten minutes the huge triage team had successfully gotten the bleeding under control and had sealed the wound to prevent further damage and infection. But it did not and could not change the reality of the situation. Ron had lost effective mobility, and although he could be fitted with a prosthetic leg, he would never regain full motional ability. Furthermore, it could make it more difficult, or even impossible, for him to play Quidditch as the weight of the prosthesis might cause an imbalance that might pull him off his broom at the velocities necessary for the high-speed and dangerous broom sport.

However, as McGonagall pointed out, right now the priority was for everyone to safely reach the stronghold, in order that everyone would be safe. Additionally the students still needed their education, Hogwarts or no Hogwarts, and their destination was an ideal one for this purpose.

But first there were Muggles to deal with. The use of magic by the students in this situation would almost certainly be in violation of the laws regarding underage magic outside of Hogwarts, laid down by the Ministry of Magic many years ago.

The area however was swarming with Muggles and Professor McGonagall was at a loss as to how to deal with them. They were finding ways to reach the beach now, via paths the students hadn't noticed and therefore hadn't been able to block with magic. There was a swarm of what looked to Hermione like Muggle police officers, albeit with different uniforms to the ones she was used to seeing.

Three of these officers managed to reach the beach and made their way over to Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout.

"Êtes-vous la professeur avec responsabilité pour ces jeunes?" he asked McGonagall who had stood forward with Sprout and a couple of seventh years to deal with the Muggle incursion on to the beach.

McGonagall looked rather blankly at him. She had never learnt the French language in her time, and as a result had no idea as to what he had just said, except that 'responsibility' had something to do with it. Having no way to answer she was not sure what to do.

A blonde haired and rather blue faced Hannah Abbott ran over at that moment, having heard the policeman speak. She looked up to the policeman.

"Elle est notre prof, oui. Pouvons-nous vous aider?"

McGonagall looked at Hannah with a somewhat perplexed look; she had had no idea that Hannah knew such good French, and made sure to award Hufflepuff house some extra points later.

"Vous parlez français? Peut-être vous pouvez agir comme traductrice pour le moment. Vous la ferrez?"

Hannah nodded. "Oui, monsieur. Dit-moi ce que vous aimerz dire à Professeur McGonagall et je le traduirai."

McGonagall recovered her voice. "Hannah, what were you saying to him?" she asked rather briskly.

Hannah turned back to the Professor. "Basically, I explained that you were our teacher, and that I would act as a translator for the moment."

The Professor briefly considered it, followed with a nod of her head to show her agreement.

"Explain to him that we were... sailing across the Channel and our ship unfortunately suffered a hull breach and sank."

Hannah raised her own eyebrow too; she doubted that the policeman would have any faith in what she was about to say, but since she couldn't come up with anything better, she proceeded.

"Nous traversions le Channel et notre bateau a souffrit un brèche, qui l'a causé à descendre dans l'océan."

Hannah didn't know the verb necessary for 'to sink', so she improvised her answer.

The policeman apparently understood, as he nodded. "Nous l'avons déterminé mais pour quoi a-t-il une blessure tan grave comme ça?" He indicated to Ron with a nod in the boy's direction.

Hannah turned to McGonagall. "He says 'we know that, but why does that boy have an injury as bad as that?'"

McGonagall looked at the man with pure disgust. Asking such a question, she thought...

"Tell him he lost his leg when he was trying to escape. He got stuck in the escape hatch."

Hannah swallowed heavily at the thought of that, and after a moment to get her composure, she translated.

"Il a perdu son jambe en train d'essayer à sortir du bateau..." she said, but not knowing the words for the remainder of the sentence, she finished it there.

The policeman's expression showed some doubt in the veracity of what he had been told, but he nevertheless moved on.

"Il y aura des ambulances pour que nous puissions transporter ce qu'ils ont de blessures aux hôpitaux. Nous contrôlerons les, err, spectateurs." He nodded and walked off, gesturing to his two burly companions to follow him. Professor McGonagall couldn't help thinking of Malfoy and his two cronies Crabbe and Goyle when she observed that. Although they were only offering assistance to the injured party, she found about herself a great sense of relief to see them walking back to the hidden mountain path.

She now also had a hard decision to make. She had two options, both of them very difficult to execute, and both with possibly disastrous consequences if they failed to proceed in the manner she planned.

In order to aid her decision making process, she gestured to Hermione to come and join her; the third-year Gryffindor girl was byow sitting on the beach with Sarah, Fred and Sam as they consoled Ginny; she had become somewhat calmer once the Hufflepuff medics had successfully managed to stop the bleeding caused by Ron's injury, and once reassured that Ron was not going to die because of the accident. She had also found something of a kindred spirit in Sarah, and they had been able to share experiences and talk about how they had felt. They had also been able to offer each other some encouragement, as both Amelia, Sarah's sister, and Ron had survived the accident. Ginny made a mental note to let Fred know, later on, when this was all over, that he'd made a good choice of girlfriend, and that he mustn't let her go. She would make a wonderful addition to the Weasley family; and apart from the vibrant red hair, she shared all the characteristics possessed by a good Weasley. Ginny would be proud to be a sister of this fine girl, who so obviously shined with all of the qualities attributed to those students sorted into the house of Hufflepuff.

Hermione excused herself and walked over to Professor McGonagall, who was accompanied by Professor Sprout.

"Yes, Professor?" she asked with whatever grace and formality she could muster. "You wanted to see me?"

Professor McGonagall looked sternly down at Hermione. She had a great seriousness about her expression and glance. "Hermione, you are a Muggleborn. You must know something of them. How advanced is their medicine? They're not still using leeches, are they?"

Hermione smiled a little, amused at the thought of leeches in modern medicine. "No, Professor, it's more advanced than that. They can now correct many problems from a splinter to a malfunctioning heart." Her heart skipped a beat as she realised what the Professor was planning. "But, Professor, you're not going to..."

McGonagall interrupted. "I don't think we're going to have much choice. Ron needs help, Muggle or magical, and a lot of the others are suffering seriously too. We won't make it to Beauxbatons without help."

Hermione's eyes widened. "We're going to Beauxbatons? The French school?" She was intrigued by this turn of events.

McGonagall looked a bit shocked for a moment; she'd let slip their destination a little bit ahead of time, but let it pass. "Yes. Their Headmistress, Madame Maxime, has agreed to take our school's pupils on for the time being. Until we discover what has been going on back at the school. And on the transport. I'm no expert but I don't think the creature pulling us was supposed to disappear like that."

Realising she was divulging more and more information that she needed to, she moved on briskly. "Anyway, do you think the Muggles can help us? Because if not we need to leave, immediately." Her voice was highlighted with a tone of urgency.

The present shape of Hermione's mouth showed her doubts, along with the frown on her forehead. She had heard of some people being completely botched by Muggles, the wrong medicines having been used on them, or the incorrect operation performed; she also wasn't entirely certain how the body chemistry of pure-bloods differed from that of Muggle-borns. The medicines used by the healers of the Muggle world might be totally incompatible with us... then again, I've had Muggle medicine many a time, and I'm still here, aren't I? But I'm not a pure-blood... Ron is - it might affect him differently to me. Oh, what do I suggest? Maybe I should just tell the truth...

"Professor, I cannot say what effects Muggle medicines may have on pure-blooded wizards. But I do know this, without help of some sort; Ron doesn't have much chance with a wound that big.

I think we'd be best to let the Muggles help us." Her face still wore a frown as big as a castle, with the uncertainty flashing in her eyes, as well as the smallest glimmer of a tear.

McGonagall regarded the star student for a few moments, the uncertainty reflected in the older woman's face too. She, having worked in magic all her life, knew of the dangers of involving the Muggles with these magical people; the International Statute of Secrecy would seem to apply. Although the Professor had faced many challenges in her past and had dealt with her fair share of dilemmas, it had not been her misfortune to face this magnitude of a problem before.

Suddenly, her time was up.

A plethora of emergency vehicles had arrived at the peaks of the cliffs. Within seconds, people started to emerge and follow the paths down onto the beach, seemingly able to find their way down the dangerous rock face.

McGonagall knew she had to make the decision now. She shot them a glance, looked away, and then, noticing something, she looked round at them again with one eyebrow raised.

She suddenly started marching towards them, followed swiftly by Professor Sprout, who had apparently also spotted something.

A man was leading the group, with a girl with rivalling height next to him, who possessed long blonde hair and a somewhat pale face. Behind them was a group of similarly-aged teenagers, looking confident and strong.

The gap between the two groups closed, and as it did, they finally entered voice range. The girl stepped forward as the two groups stopped.

"My name is Fleur Delacour. I am a student of ze Academie de Beauxbatons. Professeur Dumbledore sent a message to us to let us know of your, err, crashing into ze sea. We 'ave brought... 'ow do you say it... Muggle ambulances to take you back to ze Academie." She gave the two Professors a wide smile, and indicated the ambulances and the waiting assistants. "Ze others cannot speak in your language, zo if you 'ave any questions, ask me. We should go before ze real.. euh.. ambulances... arrive."

Professor McGonagall gave the order to her Hufflepuff counterpart to get everyone moving; and instructed the French girl to inform her French colleagues to help move the injured. A rush of activity ensued; the uninjured Hufflepuffs ran to the ambulances and squashed in, many more than normal to a vehicle; the injured were carried up the cliff on stretchers, and, four to an ambulance, were evacuated. It took twenty-three vehicles to accommodate everyone, and almost twenty minutes to complete the task, but eventually, everyone had boarded somewhere or other. Although it was massively uncomfortable, and people were literally pressed into each other, it was a more acceptable option than submitting to Muggle care.

The twenty three ambulances rushed off through the town nearby, sirens blaring and lights flashing, forcing cars and cyclists to dodge as they carried their precious cargo to its destination in the French hills. The completion of the passage through the town was a very important segment of the journey; twelve ambulances did not go unnoticed by anyone, and additionally, the real ambulances would discover in minutes that the injured had all disappeared.

The fleet made its way through the town with great vitesse and without drawing too much attention; however, proceeding past a third set of traffic lights, a large group of ambulances flew past in the opposite direction. Professor McGonagall, aboard the leading transport, sported a rather worried look on her face, and instructed the drivers to go faster; she knew they had very little time left now.

The ambulances reached a velocity of 60mph through the town, and on exiting the town and joining a massive multilane road, accelerated to 90mph, the sirens still blaring. They passed exit after exit at massive speed, the drivers only just retaining control of their vehicles, and headed northeast towards Beauxbatons, situated in a valley in northern France.

They approached an interchange point, and the fleet veered to the right, towards another large road, which was somewhat deserted, rather unexpectedly. But the situation was soon to change as the ambulances were joined by a large number of police cars. One, two, three, then ten more... these cars also had their sirens activated and were going much faster than the ambulances were. A window opened on one of them, which was holding its position parallel to the lead ambulance, and a man spoke through a megaphone, "Arretez vos vehicules et les exitez avec vos mains dans l'aire! Vous avez une minute pour le faire."

The blonde French girl, who was also in the first vehicle, translated for the benefit of her English companions.

"They are ordering us to stop and come out of ze ambulances with our hands in ze air," she said, looking at McGonagall with some concern.

"Well, obviously we can't do that," barked McGonagall, "but what else can we do? We have to reach the school." Her face indicated her current state of deep thought.

She was facing another tricky situation; they seemed to be coming in droves lately. There was no obvious solution, again, and she was risking exposure to the Muggles, and at the moment everyone looked extremely guilty. It would seem like child abduction, and they'd be lucky not to all be thrown in jail.

Fleur suddenly spoke up.

"I 'ave an idea."

She opened the hatch in the back of the cockpit and passed into the passenger section, squeezing through the crowds of people aboard, aiming for the position underneath the ceiling hatch. She succeeded, and released the catches on it, pushing it just slightly up, so that the change was barely noticeable, and, pulling out her wand, she placed the tip of it just through the gap. There was silence around her as she whispered, "Deflata circulares!"

A small spark spat out of the tip of her wand, and vanished just as quickly, at the same time as the man in the police car called out 'Trente secondes!'

Fleur pulled her wand back in and closed the hatch once more, and returned to the cockpit, to see in the rear view mirror that all the tyres on the cars seemed to have breached; air was escaping them and the cars were falling behind. Within minutes the ambulances were out on their own again.

"I suggest zat we use ze Invisibility Boosters; zen we can escape unseen," Fleur suggested to McGonagall.

Professor McGonagall pressed a button in the centre of the cockpit, and their ambulance disappeared as if it and all its occupants had become colourless. The other vehicles followed suit, and activated their invisibility systems too.

The afternoon passed; the vehicles had continued on their journey, having left the road and flown into the air to evade the traffic they eventually encountered; although still under cloak, the Invisibility Boosters did not make it possible for other vehicles to pass through the ambulances, and any collisions would be difficult to explain.

It was early evening now and a lot of the people aboard had fallen asleep, many people doing the best to curl up in the small spaces available in the ambulances. Hermione, Ginny and Sam had fallen asleep in each other's arms aboard the second transport; Harry and Ron were just barely awake in the last ambulance. Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones had also snuggled up to each other in Hermione's vehicle. Finally, Sarah and Fred were lying together in the fourth ambulance.

Hermione's dreams again had been invaded by the mysterious figure; she'd all but forgotten him in the events of the morning. She continued to approach him, and was able to get closer this time. The figure was becoming less of a blur, and she could see that he was not as tall as she had first thought. She thought she could see a reflection of the figure's face in the icy floor, but had not been able to match it to a name yet; the features were indistinct. It was as if she was wearing someone else's glasses; the view she had of this person was indeterminate, and she again was not able to clarify her view.

Hermione grabbed a nearby Mach 3 jet and flew it towards the figure, and zoomed at massive velocity ahead. But this mysterious person pulled out a Nimbus 2001 and zoomed away too. Although the Mach 3 jet was somewhat faster than a Nimbus 2001, for some reason Hermione couldn't catch up with the figure. Within minutes, it Disapparated.

But the dream didn't end there. Hermione was still flying the jet. She flew it on and on, over mountains, through valleys and over seas. Eventually she flew it up into space, round the Moon, and then back towards Earth. It entered the atmosphere, and passed safely down into the clouds. But the engine suddenly stopped. The plane hung inside a particularly large cloud.

The face of Lord Voldemort suddenly appeared in front of the cockpit, with an arm pointing a wand at the girl.

"Hermione," his voice boomed, "let me kill you!"