Chapter 3: Trouble at Hogwarts
Quentin Travers looked at the the wizard strapped to a chair in front of him. Amycus Carrow was glaring at him, but gagged and bound and in a warded room without his wand. Even so the Slayer was standing at the prisoner's side, ready to intervene. One didn't grow to Quentin's age as a Watcher by taking unnecessary risks. Her Watcher was waiting on the other side, with the recording and interrogation equipment.
"Administer the serum."
The Slayer had the prisoner's head pulled back before Botwell, carrying a vial, had taken one step towards the captive. The Watcher pulled the plug out of the gag, leaving the ring gag holding Carrow's mouth open. The wizard started try to scream incoherently, but all present ignored it, and once Botwell had poured three drops on the wizard's tongue the noise stopped. Botwell checked Carrow's pupils, then nodded. "The serum has taken effect, Sir."
"Remove the gag." Quentin watched the younger man obey, dropping the drool-covered contraption on a tray, then focused on their captive.
"Are you Amycus Carrow?"
"Yes." The wizard spoke with a toneless voice and his eyes didn't focus on Quentin.
"Are you a follower of Voldemort?"
"Yes."
"Is your sister a follower of Voldemort as well?"
"Yes."
"Have you murdered any muggles?" Quentin hated using that distasteful name for normal humans, but one had to use words those wizards understood when interrogating them.
"Yes."
"Do you plan to murder more muggles?"
"Yes."
"Do you have any specific plans yet?"
"No."
"Do you know where Voldemort is living?"
"No."
Botwell readministered veritaserum twice during the interrogation, which took hours, but while Quentin managed to confirm a number of Death Eater identities given by Harry Potter, the captive didn't know where they lived - he only visited them by floo or apparition. It took dozens of questions just to find out where Carrow's own house was located - the man had no idea about geography. He did remember his crimes though. In detail.
"Gag him again!" Quentin ordered with a cold voice. "Call me once he has recovered his wits. I want him to be fully aware when I inform him of his sentence. And when it is carried out."
Quentin left the cell. It was a pity burning the wizard was too much of a bother, given their location and circumstances. Carrow certainly had earned such a death. A slow hanging would have to do.
*****
Molly Weasley was not a happy witch. Getting her children ready so they would make it to the Hogwarts Express in time was always a stressful ordeal. Doubly so in those trying times when she had to worry about Death Eaters preparing an ambush. That her family was currently not at the Burrow, but had spent the last weeks at No. 12 Grimmauld Place wasn't helping either. That house was full of dark items, curses, magical pests and who knows what else that family, or their deranged house elf, had collected over the years. Keeping her children, who were too curious for their own good, especially the twins, from getting into dangerous trouble in such a place had been a trying task for her.
Her original plan to keep the children busy with cleaning and other chores under adult supervision had been wrecked when Harry and Hermione had refused to clean, setting a bad example for her own children. They had been unbelievably rude! She had still tried to keep her children cleaning but after a few disastrous days she had had to abandon that. The resistance from everyone had just been too much.
Ron and Ginny, at least, had then been kept busy for a few days doing their homework, with the help of Hermione, but the twins… she had had no choice but to let Sirius fill their heads with tales from the Marauder's glory days at Hogwarts, to keep them from exploring the rest of the house before Dumbledore had sealed the most dangerous rooms. And that, of course, had meant she had been kept even busier afterwards, dealing with all the new prank ideas her twin terrors had been trying out on unsuspecting visitors and family members.
She still worried about those books Hermione and Harry were reading. Dumbledore had assured her they were safe, but... children should not read such disgusting books. Adults dealt with that. Aurors. No one else needed to know about that. Fortunately she had found a collection of Quidditch journals from the 18th century in the library for Ron, which had kept him from mischief.
But now September 1st had arrived, and the children would soon be off to Hogwarts, where they would be safe - relatively safe - and she would be able to relax some. She glanced at the kitchen table, where Harry and Hermione were sitting, trunks next to them, and smiled. If only her own children were as punctual. Ginny arrived, dragging her trunk behind her, probably scratching up the floor, but at the moment Molly didn't care. They were running out of time if Arthur was insisting on using the car to travel, instead of the floo.
"Ron! Fred! George! Hurry up, we need to go now!" she bellowed, then acted as if she had not noticed the three children in the kitchen grinning.
*****
The train ride to Hogwarts was different, Hermione noted. A sizeable number of the students were eyeing Harry as if he was as crazy as the Daily Prophet claimed he was whenever they saw him. At least they had some peace in their compartment, sitting with Ron, Ginny and her friend, Luna Lovegood. Luna was reading her father's magizoology magazine, the Quibbler, upside down, and apparently believed in all her father's articles. Given how untrustworthy the Daily Prophet had been proven to be, and how lacking Hogwarts' library was when it came to demons, Hermione was not inclined to dismiss Luna's claims out of hand. Besides, it was funny to watch Ginny's reaction at Luna and herself discussing mythical monsters.
"I still cannot believe you refused the Prefect position, Hermione." Ron's voice interrupted their discussion of the feeding habits of D'zrker demons. Hermione suppressed her annoyance at the interruption and turned her attention towards him. He sounded almost angry, though she didn't understand why. He was a Prefect, after all, together with Lavender Brown. He had been talking about her to Harry ever since he had returned from the prefect's meeting earlier.
"Spending so much time enforcing rules would have negative consequences for my grades." she answered primly. In truth spending her nights patrolling after curfew, herding students to class and back, and confiscating items Filch had banned seemed too petty, too meaningless for her, after she had found out about the Council's mission. How could she contemplate wasting her free time preventing pranks when others were risking their lives fighting demons?
"Does that mean you'll not be hounding us to do our homework this year?" Ron's expression looked like he couldn't decide if this was a good or bad thing.
"You wish." She smirked at him, which seemed to please him. She exchanged a puzzled look with Harry, who shrugged subtly.
The door to their compartment was pushed open at that moment, revealing Malfoy and his two "friends" Crabbe and Goyle. "Two Weasels, a loon and a mudblood. Fitting company for a deranged lunatic. Is it true you killed your family in a fit of anger?" The blonde boy was sneering.
Harry and Ron were standing and glaring. Hermione had remained sitting, but had drawn her wand behind her book. Hermione felt like hexing the bigot, but held back. He would run to Snape and that miserable excuse for a teacher would punish them all, no matter what lines his pet bigot had crossed when he taunted Harry with the death of his relatives.
"Shut up, Malfoy." Harry was trembling with rage and stepped up to Malfoy, staring into his eyes. He lowered his voice, almost whispering, but it carried through the compartment. "I found my relatives with their souls sucked out of them. Tortured to death in their home by inhuman fiends. I do not have any tolerance left for an evil little asshole like you. Get the fuck out or not even your pet teacher will be able to protect you."
Malfoy had staggered back, probably without realizing it, in the face of Harry's fury. He had gone paler than Hermione had thought possible, and was trembling with fear. "P-Potter! I-I'll not tolerate s-such t-threats! M-my father will hear of this!" he stammered before turning and walking away.
Hermione stood up and closed the door, then hugged Harry, who was still staring at the door. They remained like that for a moment, until she felt him relax some.
"Blimey, Harry. You scared him off." Ron sounded incredulous. "He'll be running right to Snape, I bet."
"Let him. I don't care about either anymore." Harry stated, then sat down with Hermione. She kept a hand on his shoulder. Knowing that whatever happened, they had a place in the Watcher's Council, had been a big change. No longer was Hogwarts the only place Harry could call home, no longer was Wizarding Britain the only future open to him. Or to her.
*****
"So, Potter. Threatening prefects now, are we? Not even your father was as arrogant as you are." Snape was his usual nasty self, but Harry was not as impressed as he would have been last year. He had seen Cedric Diggory die, had been tortured by Voldemort, had discovered his relatives' soulless husks. Getting bullied by this pitiful excuse for a teacher felt almost familiar to Harry. And the knowledge that he could leave if things went too far, could turn his back on Hogwarts without turning his back on magic, helped a lot to keep his temper. "20 points from Gryffindor."
Harry blinked - he had expected a detention as well. Malfoy, standing behind his Head of House, was surprised as well. He was tempted to ask if that was all, but held his tongue. He knew from years of experience that Snape was just waiting for any hint of protest, and not offering any would irk him more than any amount of words. Snape stared, but Harry simply waited.
"Get out of my sight!" the teacher snarled, then turned away, robes billowing with the movement. Harry stared at Malfoy, who hurried after his protector.
"Things never change here, do they?" Hermione sounded resigned rather than exasperated.
Harry nodded. Hermione changed the topic. "I wonder who will be our new defense teacher. maybe Dumbledore found a good one this year."
"We can only hope."
*****
As it turned out, their new teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts was Dolores Umbridge. Former - or current, Harry wasn't exactly sure - undersecretary of the Minister for Magic. She hadn't impressed him much, at the feast, but he was determined not to judge a book by its cover. Even if she had been glaring at him several times during the evening.
"Good morning, class. I am Dolores Umbridge, your new teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts. As I have found out my predecessors have been very lax in theory, so we will be focusing on theory this year, to make up for that. The book I have chosen to base my lessons on is an excellent, Ministry-approved resource and will serve you well in my class." She looked around, a fake smile on her face, then stared at Harry. "I will not tolerate unrest in my class, nor the spreading of rumors and lies to frighten students." Harry stared back at her until she looked away.
"Does everyone have the book in front of them?" The pink-clad witch asked in a shrilly voice. "Start reading the first chapter then. There will be a test on it next week."
Harry saw Hermione raising her hand. The teacher seemed to ignore her until she spoke up. "Professor Umbridge?"
"Yes dear?" The witch was smiling, but Harry had seen an expression of distaste flash over her face for an instant.
"I've read the book over the summer." Hermione stated. Harry knew she was fudging the truth a bit - she had read the book a day after they had bought it, a week before school started. After their prior booklist had been invalidated by a new teacher, or so the letters informing them of the change had explained. "It does not contain any information about the spells we should be learning this year." A fact she had complained loudly about at the time she had read the book. Harry hadn't bothered reading it, not after her summary. Useless drivel. "Which spells should we be practising?"
"Dear, I am here to teach you Defense Against the Dark Arts. The best defense is to trust in the Ministry. Our aurors will protect you from any danger, not that there is anything to fear." The woman's patronizing tone was obvious to everyone.
"Surely you can't mean that we will not be learning any spells!" The idea was ridiculous, Harry knew, and he spoke before he could restrain himself.
"Mister Potter, I have no tolerance for delusional liars."
Harry was about to call her a delusional fool, but kept his temper, barely. The witch obviously had it out for him, otherwise her insult wouldn't make any sense. At least several other students were now raising their hands. Voldemort returning was one thing, but the prospect of not learning the spells needed for their OWLs? That drove fear into his classmates.
"Professor, what about our OWLs?"
"Is this History of Defense, or do we learn spells?"
"Are we learning muggle defense?"
"Silence!" The pink witch was shouting, her face red. cowed, the students felt silent. Then Umbridge turned to Harry. "Mister Potter! I stated I would not tolerate unrest in class. You are responsible for this shameful behavior! Detention tomorrow evening!"
Harry was not the only gaping at the witch. She was worse than Snape!
*****
Professor Umbridge was waiting for Harry with an eager gleam in her eyes when he arrived for his detention. "Ah, Mister Potter. Almost late, I see. I would not expect anything else from such a habitual liar."
"Good evening Professor." Harry spit out, already straining to keep a lid on his temper. The ugly witch was very skilled at pushing his buttons. He managed to control himself, mostly because he had promised Hermione he'd do it. McGonagall had warned him that Umbridge was dangerous, but he hadn't taken that warning very seriously. He had faced Voldemort, after all, far more times than he wanted to think about. A fat witch in hideously ugly pink robes simply didn't rate that much in his opinion.
The two of them stared at each other for a moment, Umbridge smiling, Harry frowning. "Hand over your wand, Mister Potter. There will be no spellcasting during your detention." He handed his official wand over, glad for Hermione having insisted he'd carry his untraceable wand with him as well, hidden in a mokeskin holster mounted on his left wrist. He just did not feel safe in this witch's presence without a wand.
"Sit down, boy. You will write lines." She tapped at the blackboard, where she had written 'I will not tell lies' on. "A thousand times this. Maybe that will teach you to keep your filthy mouth from sprouting lies!"
Harry imagined the toad-like witch screaming under Voldemort's Crucio while he sat down. That would teach her to ignore reality and call him a liar. When he opened his bookbag though she stopped him. "You will be using this quill." and handed him a long, ornate quill and well as a stack of parchment.
Shrugging he started to look for an inkwell, but she stopped him again. "The quill will produce its own ink, Mister Potter. Now start writing." Glancing at her, he was taken aback. She was smiling at him with an almost crazed expression, filled with glee. Worse than Snape when he managed to actually catch him breaking a rule. Maybe McGonagall had been correct.
He started to write the first line, but stopped right after the first words when he felt a sudden pain in his hand and saw red lines appear on the back of his hand. With a gasp he realized that the quill was carving the lines he wrote into his skin, drawing blood.
"Don't stop, bow. You've got a thousand lines to write."
"With my blood?" He asked, rubbing his hand, which placed his fingers close to his wrist-holster with his borrowed wand.
"It'll teach you to stop lying."
The witch was a sadist, Harry realized. Or worse - the things one could do with one's blood, the things an enemy could do with his blood… the tomes Hermione and himself had read in the Council's library had been quite explicit how dangerous it was to let anyone get ahold of one's blood. Hermione would understand, he thought, while he drew his second wand.
He whipped up his wand faster and cast before the witch realized what he was doing. "Expelliarmus!" The force of the spell, powered by his own rage, ripped her wand out of her hand and threw her into the wall behind her with a sickening crack. He didn't care about what bones he had just broken and both stunned and bound her with two more spells, then went to fetch Hermione.
*****
Hermione was livid. Not at Harry, of course - not after he had explained why he had hurt and bound a teacher. To think a professor could sink so low as to torture a student and steal his blood… she shook her head. Both of them were on their way to McGonagall's office, Umbridge, still unconscious and bound and wrapped in Harry's cloak of invisibility floating behind them. They'd have gone straight to Dumbledore, if they had known his password.
McGonagall was in her office, busy grading homework already, when the two students entered. "Miss Granger... Mister Potter! Is your detention already over?" She asked, in a surprised tone.
"Yes, Professor. We need to talk to the Headmaster about Umbridge."
"That's Professor Umbridge, Mister Potter. And the Headmaster is busy. What have you done? I told you be careful around Professor Umbridge!"
Hermione was taken aback at the correction, and the anger from her Head of House, and her own temper rose. The Transfiguration teacher had been very disappointed when Hermione had refused the prefect's position, and had let her know that both with a letter during the vacations, and in person last evening. She had not been impressed though, and was less impressed now. What was the witch thinking, talking to her best friend like that when they had such a sadist as a professor? That horrid witch had been planning to torture her Harry, after all, and steal his blood for whatever dark ritual she was planning - Hermione could think of a few that would need his blood!
She noticed Harry growing angry, and before he could give McGonagall a piece of his mind she laid her hand on his shoulder to stop him. Their eyes met, and he nodded. While he took a few deep breaths to control his temper, she addressed their teacher with a cold, clipped tone.
"Professor McGonagall. If the Headmaster is not available to see us at once then Harry and I will leave the school at once. This concerns a grave crime, not some petty complaint." The young witch placed her hands on the old witch's desk, and stared right at her, chin pushed forward.
McGonagall was gasping at the audacity of her best student, but again Hermione was not impressed. She knew she was right and would not budge, not even an inch. Harry depended on her.
"Miss Granger! What are you saying?
"I am stating that if you are not leading us to and into the Headmaster's office right now, Harry and I will be quitting Hogwarts right now. Neither of us will be staying in a school with a teacher torturing a student and practising the Dark Arts."
That, finally, made the old witch cave in, though she was glaring at both of them while she led them to the Headmaster's office. "Chocolate Frogs."
The Headmaster's office had not changed since the last time Hermione had been there, which had been some time ago. Still cluttered with all sorts of mysterious items, old books and pieces of art, Fawkes peering at them from his perch, and the Headmaster frowning at the three from behind his desk.
"Minerva, I said I was not to be disturbed…" he trailed off, his eyebrows rising, and Hermione realized he had spotted the floating bound witch trailing behind them. She wondered what allowed him to see through Harry's cloak - the spells she had tried didn't work on it. "What have you done?"
"Prevented a crime." Hermione stated while she and Harry pulled the cloak off the witch. McGonagall gasped, holding her hand to her mouth at the sight of the battered, bound witch that was revealed. "She was torturing Harry, and stealing his blood." Hermione laid the quill they had taken on the desk. "With that dark item."
Harry showed his hand, faint red lines still visible. "She wanted to force me to write a thousand lines in my own blood, the words carved into my hand. I took her down when I realized what she was planning." Dumbledore looked at the hand, then at the quill while McGonagall was cursing under her breath in gaelic.
"This is a grave situation, Harry. you have attacked the undersecretary of the Minister for Magic. This will have consequences we may not be able to deal with. Cornelius and her have been waiting for such a reaction, to get a pretext to take more serious actions against you. You have just played into her hands." Dumbledore shook his head with regret as he chided Harry for defending himself.
Hermione would not take this. "Headmaster Dumbledore! She was torturing him and stealing his blood! Blood is a powerful substance, and used in many dark rituals. Such a vile witch getting her hands on Harry's blood cannot be allowed. Its far too dangerous!"
The Headmaster frowned. "You seem to know a lot about such rituals, Miss Granger."
"I know enough to realize that one's enemies should not get their hands on one's blood, Headmaster."
He didn't press the point. "Harry… the Minister will have you arrested. My own influence has waned, I might not be able to protect you."
"Then we'll leave Hogwarts before he hears about it." Harry stated, with complete conviction in the feasibility of his plan. Dumbledore sighed, shaking his head.
"Harry, if you run, you'll only make it worse. They will hunt you like Sirius."
"Let them hunt me."
"Us, Harry, us." Hermione wouldn't let her best friend face this alone. Besides, they would be safe at the Council. Study and train, and become Watchers.
"Do you really want to spend your life like Sirius, hunted and and hiding?" Dumbledore leaned forward, hands folded, and his gaze hard. Hermione looked into his eyes. "We won't be hiding. The Minister will not be able to touch us." Not without violating the treaty that was the foundation for the Statute of Secrecy.
Dumbledore jerked back as if he had been struck, and for a moment, they were treated to a rare sight - a baffled, utterly surprised Headmaster. But the moment was quickly gone, and the old wizard regained his composure. "I see you are serious. Then there is no other way than to… hide this incident. Professor Umbridge will be obliviated of this, and we will not speak about it."
"Unless she tries to torture Harry again, or anyone else."
"Miss Granger, this is a very delicate situation. We have to tread carefully, lest we push the Ministry into a course of action that will do half of Voldemort's work for him."
"We will not let this witch torture students. If Harry can easily subdue her, you can easily control her." Hermione was adamant in her conviction. They would not let others suffer just so the Headmaster would have an easier time handling those corrupt fools at the Ministry.
The Headmaster closed his eyes, then nodded. "I guess this is the only way to keep this situation from getting worse."
"Albus!"
"No, Minerva. The children are right. We cannot let such Madam Umbridge torture and maim our students. That's going too far." He looked at Harry and Hermione. "Return to your dorm, I'll handle the rest. She'll believe her plan has worked and Harry is now cowed into silence. You'll have to act the part, of course, Harry. And do not tell anyone about this, not even Mister Weasley."
Hermione exchanged a glance with Harry before both nodded and left the office, taking his cloak with them. They did not return to the Gryffindor dorm right away though, but went into an abandoned classroom to discuss the events.
"I wish we had interrogated her with veritaserum. We could have found out all her plans." Hermione had considered proposing that, but she didn't want the headmaster to know about her vial.
"We might still do that. Just a bit later." Harry sounded unconcerned. "I wonder why the Headmaster gave in so quickly. He must really want to keep us here."
"Do you think he knows about the Council? About our relations to it?" Hermione bit her lower lip again. She had been fired up, passion filling her, driving her on, but now, with the situation behind them, she started to doubt her actions and words.
"He certainly knows about the Council's existence, but I am not sure if he knows about your uncle being a Watcher."
"If he did it would explain some things though." She didn't know what Dumbledore would do about it, but she suspected he would not be happy about them becoming Watchers. "We'll have to be careful though. She might not be the only one wanting to hurt you."
"Wouldn't be a school year without someone wanting to kill me."
Hermione didn't know what to say to that, it was true after all. So she simply hugged Harry. The two remained like that for quite some time before returning to their dorm.
*****
The next day Umbridge kept smiling triumphantly at Harry during breakfast. Obviously the Headmaster's plan had worked. It galled Harry to act as if she had won. but he knew it was the best course of action. He didn't want to leave his fellow students at the mercy of that sadist, after all. She was just the type to hurt his friends if she couldn't get to him, at least in his opinion.
He still wished fervently the witch would get what she deserved. Too many evil people had escaped their just punishment in Wizarding Britain so far. Malfoy. Fudge. Pettigrew. All the Death Eaters named by Voldemort. Hermione had a list, and Umbridge earned a place on it.
McGonagall, looking less angry at the two of them than the day before, handed Harry a note after the transfiguration lesson that morning. The Headmaster wanted to talk to them during the first period of the afternoon. Hermione, reading over his shoulder, nodded. "Umbridge will be in in a lesson with the 6th years then."
The two rejoined Ron, who was waiting outside the classroom for them. Harry didn't want to keep this from Ron, but they had promised the Headmaster to keep it secret even from Ron. Maybe they'd talk in the afternoon about that as well.
*****
"What?" Hermione was sure she had to have misunderstood the Headmaster. he couldn't actually have proposed what she thought she had heard?
"Are you out of your mind?" Apparently he could. Unless Harry had been hearing things as well Dumbledore really had proposed that Snape should teach Harry and herself Occlumency.
"Harry, my Boy. Severus is the only one in Hogwarts that can teach you this. I trust him implicitly. Dumbledore was smiling.
"I do not trust him at all. He hates me, and he never misses an opportunity to insult and punish me, no matter what happened or what I did or did not. He is a foul, loathsome git, and someone I certainly will not let at my mind!" Harry stood with his hands on the desk of the Headmaster and was screaming at the old wizard.
Hermione was pondering the implications of what she head heard. There was a technique to protect one's mind against wizards trying to enter it. That implied that there was at least one technique or spell that allowed wizards to read one's thoughts. Dumbledore had said he wanted to make sure Harry was not influenced by Voldemort, but that was such a unique situation, occlumency wouldn't have been developed just for that. No, mind reading was likely not as rare as he had made it appear.
"Calm down, Harry. Miss Granger, do you see that Harry needs to learn this to protect his mind? It will also help him to control his emotions."
"Certainly Headmaster." Hermione answered. Harry shot her a hurt look, and she felt a stab of pain in her chest at his expression. "But that doesn't change the fact that Snape is the worst possible choice to teach Harry anything." Harry smiled at that and Hermione felt at ease again.
"Miss Granger. Severus has my trust."
"That's fine for you. But in four years, that man has proven that he cannot be trusted when it comes to Harry. He obviously hates him, for no rational reason at all. That alone would be enough to disqualify him, but he also has proven that he is a despicable human being. He torments his students, favors Slytherins and protects the worst bigots against punishments no matter what those cretins do to anyone. And he cannot teach at all. With the possible exception of our esteemed Divination professor, he is the worst teacher I have ever seen. We would make far more progress if you'd give us a book on the subject than if we let this sorry excuse for a professor abuse Harry again under the guise of teaching him. If you are unable to provide us a teacher that has not disqualified himself by his utterly unacceptable behaviour during the last four years, then we might need to look outside Hogwarts for instructions." Hermione had kept a lid on her temper and her voice controlled, but she was trembling with anger and passion.
Even the Headmaster seemed to have noticed, and again he sighed, nodding. "I'll arrange for another instructor, one you have not such… harsh opinions of."
"Pease clear it with us beforehand, Sir. It seems our opinions of what is a good trustworthy teacher are a bit too far apart to trust your judgement in this matter." Hermione smiled, but her eyes were still angry, and this time, Dumbledore too showed anger at her dig. It was petty, but Hermione didn't care, not at the moment. She was just too riled up by the Headmaster's blind faith in that disgusting wizard.
After they had left Dumbledore's office, Hermione was lifted off her feet and gathered in a hug by Harry. It was a surprising show of affection by her best friend - he rarely initiated such gestures himself. Hermione enjoyed it very much and held on to him even after he started to stumble a bit and let her down again.
They looked at each other, smiling.
"Hermi..."
"Harry…"
Both started to talk at the same time, and stopped at once. For a moment they stared at each other, smiling. They were so close, Hermione realized, not just physically. Not just now. He was her best friend, she knew that, but she wanted him to be more. And she didn't know if he felt the same. But she was a Gryffindor. Hermione licked her lips and gathered her courage, then grabbed Harry's head and pulled him towards her head, their lips meeting in a quick, inexperienced kiss.
Hermione was sure she was blushing like a tomato when they broke the kiss, and looked away. She suddenly feared how Harry would react, couldn't bear to look at him. Did he think she was silly to act like this? Or worse, did he feel disgusted by her sudden kiss?
She was about to work herself up into a frenzy of doubts and self-loathing when she felt a hand grip her chin, turn her head towards him, and then felt his lips on hers again, longer this time. When they broke the kiss again, her doubts had fled and she felt happier than ever.
Judging by the silly smile Harry wore, he felt the same.
*****
Kingsley Shacklebolt was tired from a long day of dealing with paperwork and other bureaucratic obstacles when he left his office. The Ministry was still refusing to admit that Voldemort was back, and Fudge's sycophants wasted no effort to make sure no one would do anything that even hinted at preparing for such an eventuality. Not even Amelia Bones, the leader of the DMLE, seemed to be able to do much at the moment.
He sighed, checking his watch - too late for a peaceful dinner at the Leaky Cauldron. It would be filled with the regulars now, and quite loud. But he could go and grab something in Muggle London. They had a far greater selection too, now that he thought of it. No butterbeer or pumpkin juice though - he couldn't understand that.
On the way to the Leaky Cauldron he suddenly felt as if someone was watching him. Grabbing his wand he looked around, but couldn't spot anyone suspicious. But in those trying times he was better safe than sorry. He ducked into a side alley to draw whoever might be following him out in the open. It wouldn't be a strike team of Death Eaters. They were trying to keep the wizarding public from realizing Voldemort was back, and wouldn't attack in Diagon Alley, where they might be seen and recognized. He could deal with a spy or stalker.
A few meters into the alley he turned, wand out, and waited. Instead of the surprised stalker he expected he was greeted with laughter though.
"That was a mistake, auror. A mistake that will cost you dearly." A woman's voice, amused, but with a cruel undertone. Supremely confident. He felt the sweat gather on his neck. He was one of the best aurors, he knew that.
Then a slender figure slid from the shadows and stood in the entrance of the alley, moonlight showing pale skin clad in tight leather clothes. Red eyes - a vampire! "Identify yourself!" Kingsley shouted. Laughter answered him, and the female vampire suddenly charged him.
The tall auror was ready for that though, and his wand spat a cone of fire that filled the entire alley. That wasn't the first vampire he had fought. When the fire disappeared though she was standing there, grinning. Untouched by his fire. Twirling something in her hand. With a sinking feeling he realized the vampire was carrying a wand. A witch turned vampire? There were only a few creatures like that, and all were extremely dangerous.
A red spell shot at him, and was met with his shield. He retaliated with a bone breaker, which the vampiress dodged easily with an inhumane leap. Her next spell shook the alley and sent shards of stone at him. His shield repelled them, but almost broke. He tried to apparate away, but failed - she had cast an anti-apparition jinx. A quick muttered word proved that his emergency portkey was useless as well. And she was between him and the exit of the alley. Behind him was a dead end. He couldn't escape, he had to fight. had to beat her. Or at least get past her.
Kingsley had to box her in, keep her from using her speed and strength. He transfigured the cobblestones at his feet into a wall that cut the alley into two. Another wall next to it formed two lanes, too narrow to dodge anything inside it. He started to run as he was forming a plane of stone to cover both against attacks from above. Five metres from the exit, from Diagon Alley, he cast a Bombarda at the front, in the hope of catching her where she was preparing to ambush him.
Before he could exit the alley he was tackled from behind with enough force to go through his shield and break his ribs. She had not waited at the front, but had circled around him, and entered the makeshift tunnel behind him. He was outmatched in strength, unable to defend himself or push the monster back. His wand arm was pushed aside, hammered at the ground until he had lost the grip on his wand, then he felt her bite into his throat, drinking his blood. Despite the pain and blood loss that made him feel light-headed he managed to shake the small cross he carried on a bracelet inside his left cuff out and press it against her head.
She jerked back with a scream and the smell of burning skin and hair, but then he felt the small cross get ripped out of his weakening fingers in response to a flick of her wand. It had gained him enough time to summon his own wand back though.
One hand pressed to his bleeding throat, growing weaker by the second, apparition and portkey jinxes preventing him from fleeing, he grinned at her, then raised his wand. He would not be turned. She was fast, but not fast enough to stop him before he blew his own head off with a reducto.
*****
Voldemort was in a good mood when he heard the report from Roselyn. Shacklebolt was dead. Dumbledore had lost one of his best combattants, and one of his most useful contacts in the Ministry. Snape's information about the auror members of the Order of the Phoenix had been as useful as expected. His old foe was now left with Mad-Eye Moody and Nymphadora Tonks. Moody would be too paranoid to be taken easily, but the same paranoia would make him less useful to Dumbledore, and less able to influence the Ministry. Not many of Moody's old friends were still active, or alive, and he would be loathe to trust anyone. Nymphadora Tonks… he'd save her for Bellatrix, once he had broken her and the other faithful out of Azkaban. His most loyal Lieutenant deserved the opportunity to remove the stain on her family's honor herself. Besides, she was just a junior auror, hardly of any consequence.
Chapter 4: Changing Plans
