Unthinkable

"Tell me, Avery," Rookwood said, "why did you lie to the Dark Lord? Why did you tell him Bode could remove the prophecy, when you knew he could not? He punished you well for that one, didn't he?"

Avery shuddered visibly. "I thought the Dark Lord would punish Malfoy for his Imperius Curse not working. I thought Bode would be able to fight it. You knew him; he was strong-willed and stubborn. It was like ordering him to kill himself. I thought he would throw it off -"

"You fool!" interrupted Rookwood. "Malfoy is more powerful than you - or any of us. His family is the oldest in the country! With blood so ancient and pure... they've been involved in the Dark Arts for thousands of years! You are lucky the Dark Lord let you live."

"I didn't know!" wailed Avery. "I had no idea Bode wouldn't fight the curse! I didn't know the Dark Lord would be so angry -"

"Hush, Avery, keep your voice down. Macnair's lurking around, and you know how he would rush in to defend his old pal Malfoy." Rookwood laughed harshly.

Avery sniggered nervously. "Shouldn't we help the others look for the Potter brat?"

"We've done our parts. Why should we do more? I wouldn't worry, Avery. Getting the prophecy isn't our task. We are just here to help Malfoy," Rookwood snorted, as if he had just told a bad joke, "with his task. Let him screw up. I for one would like to see him get what's coming to him."

No, Hermione thought fiercely. No one was going to die because of Trelawney's stupid prophecy. Especially no one she cared about. She wouldn't allow it.

"WE'VE GOT HIM!" a rough accented voice echoed through the walls. "IN AN OFFICE OFF OF THE TIME ROOM!"

The two Death Eaters glanced at each other and set off in the direction of the Time Room. And Hermione, still under the Disillusionment Charm, wiped the tears off her cheeks and followed them. Her goal was now the same as theirs: get the prophecy.

She had always been quick to think in dangerous situations. Panic stretched her mind to the limits of the cleverness and cunning she possessed. Panic forced her to find a solution. For example, when Umbridge had caught Harry in her office, Hermione had thought up a plan of escape in less than a second.

When she had seen Umbridge about to cast the Cruciatus Curse on Harry, a desperate plan had formed in her head, prompted by the thought of her friend getting hurt. When people she cared about were in danger and their fate rested in her hands, her brain never failed to rise to the challenge.

Unfortunately Harry was in one of his thickheaded moods. He hadn't listened to any of her advice today so it was unlikely he would listen now. It would be a waste of time trying to make him think rationally, to make him realise that just because Voldemort was mad enough to take this prophecy nonsense seriously didn't mean he was right; all it proved was his lack of sanity.

She couldn't afford to waste any time. With a life at stake, Hermione had no choice but to take the situation into her own hands, like she had done in the past, for example when she had gone to Professor McGonagall and told her about the broom Harry had received anonymously because she had suspected it had been sent by Sirius Black - and she had been right. But that was different; she had done that for Harry's own safety, whereas this...

Harry's stubborn pride be damned if it was going to get anyone killed. No 'prophecy' made by that worthless excuse for a teacher was worth any lives.

Even if it meant she would have to deceive her friends.

She remembered the looks on their faces when they had thought she was going to betray them to the Ministry, in Umbridge's office. Ginny had looked at her as though she didn't know her, Neville had stared in disbelief, Ron's face had expressed shock and horror, and Harry had had an unreadable expression on his face. Poor Harry.

Harry, her best friend who had saved her life several times. Harry, who trusted her with his life.

Harry, to whom she was going to have to lie, whom she would have to trick, taking advantage of his blind trust in her.

Whatever was in that prophecy concerned Harry, obviously, it was about him. And none of them knew what would happen if Voldemort got it. The Order had led them to believe the prophecy was a "weapon" to be kept away from Voldemort at any cost.

Any cost...

If her own life had to be the cost, she would make the sacrifice without hesitation. She owed it to Harry.

But his life?

No.

No, she could not. She couldn't stand by and do nothing after what she had heard. Though this made her a wretched, backstabbing friend and a horrible person, she just couldn't do it.

I'm sorry.

Dumbledore had spoken last year about a choice between what was right and what was easy. This wasn't such a choice. There was nothing easy about either option, and how could it be right to let someone be murdered by Voldemort? Even a Death Eater.

I'm so sorry.

Whoever said love was a positive emotion... Whoever believed love was a good, never an evil thing had obviously never been in a situation like hers.

Love could be as terrible as hate, because it was so strong. It could make people do terrible things, such as kill other people or themselves.

Love was a dangerous emotion, because it overpowered all others. It was an emotion that overpowered reason itself. When faced with love, nothing else mattered... friendship, allegiance, duty all became nothing. Even the concept of right and wrong lost meaning in the face of love. Only love mattered, even if it was unrequited and there was no chance of it ever being returned.

Hermione was a Gryffindor: self-sacrificing, altruistic. True Gryffindors helped others without expecting anything in return.

This was suicide, but she couldn't not do it, despite the consequences. The terrible consequences: giving Voldemort a weapon he sought. Hermione couldn't conceive how a prophecy of all things could be a weapon, but if the Order considered it as such, there had to be a reason.

If it was a real prophecy, it would come true regardless of whether Voldemort knew it or not, so what difference would his knowing it make? There had to be some crucial information, some piece of the puzzle that she was missing, something that would explain why Order members had risked their lives to guard this prophecy.

She hoped Harry would forgive her someday, but she knew she didn't deserve it.

She couldn't expect Harry's forgiveness when she didn't think she would ever forgive herself for doing this. But she was sure she would never forgive herself if she didn't do it, if she didn't even try. Not after what she had heard.

*

Hermione followed the two Death Eaters through a door and past rows of shelves covered with prophecies. She was still Disillusioned, and she had whispered a charm to muffle the sound of her footsteps.

They emerged in the glittering room that contained Time-Turners. Hermione was sure the one she had used in her third year had come from this room, and she wondered what the other, larger ones on the shelves were used for. Maybe they sent a person back days instead of hours, or maybe forward, into the future?

Rookwood and Avery, still unaware that she was following them, strode through the Time Room and towards a closed door on the opposite wall. One of them tried to wrench it open, but it wouldn't budge.

"Alohomora!" said Rookwood.

The door swung open, revealing a spacious room with a dozen wooden desks in it, likely the office of the Unspeakables who worked there. It was not a bad place to work, noted Hermione. A bit too underground and isolated, but exciting nevertheless.

"Stupefy! Stupefy!" Hermione said quickly, pointing her wand at the two Death Eaters who had inadvertently shown her the way out of the dark corridor and to the Time Room.

Taken by surprise from behind, they didn't have time to dodge the jets of red light. She couldn't deny feeling more than a trace of satisfaction when they hit the ground hard.

She Stunned each of them one more time for good measure. The longer they would stay unconscious, the better.

Still she hesitated, glaring down at them. They deserved worse. She wanted to -

She slashed her wand viciously at the fallen Death Eaters, casting the Darkest spell she knew how to cast: the same curse she had incorporated into the parchment signed by all the D.A. members. A face rash that no counter-curse, healing spell or potion could remove. She had never thought it too harsh. Anyone who betrayed Harry to Umbridge deserved the surprise; it served that sneak Marietta Edgecombe right. It would serve this backstabbing Death Eater scum right too.

But I'm a sneak too... I'm backstabbing scum...

Shaking her head, she patted herself on the head with her wand, removing the Disillusionment Charm, and stuck her head through the open doorway. She saw several unconscious Death Eaters on the floor and other figures huddled under the desks. "Harry!" she called out.

A mass of unruly black hair poked out from under a desk. "Hermione?" Harry answered. "You're all right? Where are the others?"

"I don't know! Prote--" she started as a Death Eater jumped out from behind a large filing cabinet. He raised his wand in a slashing motion and opened his mouth to speak an incantation.

Harry rushed forward and shouted, "Petrificus Totalus!"

The Death Eater collapsed. Then someone else crawled out from under the desks. Hermione recognised Neville, whose nose was broken and bleeding.

She muttered a spell to stop the blood flowing down his face.

"Danks, Herbione," Neville said through his blocked nose.

"I'm sorry I don't know a spell to numb the pain," she said. "I'm no expert at Healing. You need to see Madam Pomfrey." Then she caught sight of another motionless form on the floor. It was Luna Lovegood. "What happened to her?"

"He hit her with a purple flame. That's what he was trying to cast on you," said Harry. He looked worried. "We need to find Ron and Ginny."

Hermione stopped him. "Harry, I've got an idea!" She grabbed his arm and steered him back inside the room, closing the door behind them and sealing it with a "Colloportus!"

She stared at Harry, who looked curious. From the corner of her eye, she could see Neville listening intently. "I've just figured something out," she said. "Harry, you have to give me the prophecy."

He looked sharply at her, bewilderment in his emerald-green eyes. "Why?"

Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry, she thought, but I have to do this.

"Think, Harry... the Death Eaters - they all believe you have it on you, they're trying to summon it from you, they'll never expect it if I have it instead. They'll never expect it, I'm telling you! And as long as they think you have the prophecy, they won't attack you - they're too scared they'll hit it accidentally - but if you don't really have it, there'll be no risk of actually smashing it, and you'll have both hands free to fight!"

She could see Harry catching up. "But - but what if they go after you instead?"

"They won't," she said. "They won't guess you gave it to me. I'll put it in my pocket and no one will know."

"Hermione -" started Harry. They could hear crashes just outside the door.

"Please, Harry, they'll be here any second - hurry up -" she prompted to the sound of footsteps getting closer.

"But -"

"I know what I'm doing, Harry," she said sternly. "Give me the prophecy. I'll keep it safe."

"All right, but I hope you really know what you're doing," Harry said and held out the glass sphere.

I hope so too, Hermione thought as she took the prophecy and tapped it with her wand, casting an Unbreakable Charm (the same spell she had used on the jar to hold Rita the beetle) as a precaution. She had seen how easily these things could shatter. She then slipped it into her robes.

"Harry, gather the others and go down to the black hallway. I think you have to say 'exit' and it'll show you the right door. Go down to the Atrium..." Hermione broke off. Go down to the Atrium and what? She was about to say 'and raise the alarm', but now that she thought of it, it didn't sound like a good idea. Raise the alarm and what? Get arrested by Aurors for trespass at the Ministry, like Sturgis Podmore, and spend six months in Azkaban?

"No way! Hermione, I won't leave you here!" said Harry fiercely.

"I know what I'm doing, Harry! Please, believe me on this! You didn't listen when I told you this was a trap, or when I warned you not to touch the prophecy. Please, listen to me just this once!" she cried, her desperation leaking into her voice.

It worked. Harry nodded reluctantly, guiltily.

Hermione removed the locking spell from the door and pulled it open.

"Where are you going?" asked Harry anxiously.

"I told you, I'll keep the prophecy safe!" she said over her shoulder. Not waiting for an answer, she dashed off, her Hogwarts robes swirling behind her.

As soon as she was out of Harry's sight, she stopped and reapplied the Disillusionment Charm, melting once again into her surroundings.

The most difficult part of the plan was over. Lying to Harry tore at her conscience, making her feel like a horrible person. She hadn't been sure she could do it, but she had underestimated herself. She had done it. She didn't want to think about what that said about her.

The next part would be more dangerous, but nothing could be worse than tricking Harry, her best friend, the boy who had repeatedly risked his life to save hers. I'm a lousy friend.

No, she couldn't give up now! She couldn't allow herself to cry and run back to Harry to apologise. There would be time for that later, when no one's life would be in danger.

She had to do this. She had to, or he would die. It was up to her to save his life, and she couldn't do nothing.

All that remained to do was to find the right Death Eater, and avoid being killed in the process. They don't know I have the prophecy, she reminded herself. They thought Harry still had it, so they hesitated to attack him. She would be given no such consideration. But what if she let them know? What if she deliberately carried the prophecy in sight?

They would take it from her by any means. And she knew she couldn't let that happen. After the conversation she had witnessed, she couldn't just give the prophecy to any Death Eater. What if those two weren't the only ones who secretly hoped he would get in trouble? What if one of them deliberately lost the prophecy to sabotage him? She couldn't take that risk.

She supposed she could give it to Macnair, if she found him. She shuddered. That man was a bloodthirsty monster... but it sounded like he was on his side. Unless Rookwood was wrong. Hermione huffed in exasperation. She felt as if she had stepped into a pit of snakes that would sooner eat each other than help each other. No one could be trusted. Was this what it was like to be in Slytherin House? No wonder Slytherins were so nasty to everyone...

The only way to make sure he got the prophecy was to give it directly to him. To find him, to approach him...

Her breathing hitched. Nervousness crushed her chest like a steel-boned corset, tighter than it had ever been before an exam. To approach him, to speak to him... She had always been beneath his notice. To face his contempt again...

What would he think of her after this? Would he guess why she was doing it? Would he be disgusted? Would he laugh at her?

It didn't matter. His survival was at stake. The glass ball in her pocket was the price of his life, the only way to protect it from Voldemort's deadly rage. She had to find him while not being found by any of the other Death Eaters, who would attack her, maybe even kill her.

You may kill the others if necessary.

She shuddered at the memory of these terrible words as violently as if a Dementor had breathed down her neck.

If she was killed or knocked out, the Death Eaters would never find out she had the prophecy; they would continue trying to make Harry give it to them. They would fail their mission, and Voldemort would... would... She couldn't even think it.

Right. She had to find him. But how? The Point Me spell wouldn't do much good here. This place was a labyrinth; there were too many corridors... which was a thing to be thankful for. Otherwise the Death Eaters wouldn't have needed to search for Harry; they would have found him in two seconds and he could've been seriously hurt because he was too stubborn to give up the prophecy. But how was she to find Mr Malfoy in here?

Think, Hermione! He had been in the prophecy room when he had given directions to the other Death Eaters. The prophecy room was right next to the Time Room; it was through that door.

Hermione walked over to it and cautiously opened it, her fingers clenched tightly around her wand. Seeing no Death Eaters, she walked inside, taking care to avoid the piles of debris. Glass crunched under her shoes. They were going to be in so much trouble with the Ministry for causing all this destruction...

Standing in the prophecy room, she looked around at the many doors and archways. Which way had he gone? This was just like the logic puzzle she had solved for Harry in first year: she had to figure it out through elimination. Figure out where he had sent all the other Death Eaters; the remaining path would necessarily be the one he had taken with Mulciber.

She could easily remember his exact words; it was nothing compared to memorising all of Lockhart's books. Bellatrix, Rodolphus, you take the left -that had to be the corridor on the side over there. Crabbe, Rabastan, go right - the corridor on the opposite side. Jugson, Dolohov, the door straight ahead - simple: there was only one door facing the entrance to the prophecy room. Macnair and Avery, through here; Rookwood, over there - "here" and "there" had to mean either the door she had gone through or one of the remaining two doors. What had happened to Macnair?

She had found Avery with Rookwood, so the ways they had both taken had to be connected.

Obviously he wasn't in the corridor behind the door she had gone through. That left two. She needed more information, at least a clue. The Point Me spell might indicate at least a general direction. In this labyrinthine place, it could mislead her, but she had no other option.

She raised her wand; holding it loosely in front of her, she spoke the incantation.

Her wand spun in her hand and pointed to the right. Of the two doors she hadn't eliminated, one was closer to that direction than the other. She could only hope behind it wasn't a corridor leading to the left instead.

She took a moment to plan what she was going to say. Then she opened the door.

It was a corridor, and no one was in it, which made her exhale in mixed relief and worry. The corridor ended in a fork with two doors right next to each other. This place had too many doors! She guessed he and Mulciber had split up to search behind both doors. Who had gone through which door? The Point Me spell would be effective now that she was close (she hoped) and there were only two possibilities. She cast it again.

Her wand indicated the left.

And then the door on the right flew open and a Death Eater walked through it. She immediately knew it wasn't him; this wizard didn't have the tall stature and regal bearing that made him easily recognisable even in the Death Eaters' cloak and mask.

This had to be Mulciber. Thank Merlin she was still under the Disillusionment Charm.

"Stupefy!" she whispered, aiming her wand point blank at his chest.

She wondered not for the first time why the Death Eaters were so easy to take off guard just because she was almost invisible. Were they underestimating their opponents completely because of their age? Why did they expect teenagers to know no more spells than toddlers or Squibs?

Mulciber fell, and Hermione finally stood in front of the door behind which she would undoubtedly find him. She closed her eyes briefly, her pulse thudding in her ears. Her hand shook as she raised her wand to her scalp to strip away the Disillusionment Charm. It shook even more as she put her wand away into her pocket, effectively disarming herself in the hopes of not being attacked on sight.

The metal doorknob felt cold in her clammy hand. She inhaled deeply and slowly, cautiously pulled the door open.