Embers

Ron bounded into a sitting room at Grimmauld Place and collapsed onto a sofa. “Oh, what a day,” he remarked. He looked over at Ginny, who appeared to be engrossed in several rather large and ominous-looking tomes. “Have you seen Hermione?” Ron asked as he sat up. He’d not seen her since that morning.

“I thought she was with you.” Ginny answered without looking up. She grasped her quill and began furiously scribbling notes on a piece of parchment, one of several she had spread all over the table.

Ron stood and walked over to her. “No, I was with Harry today.”

“I haven’t seen him either.”

“We just got back. But, Hermione should have been back ages ago.” Ron was growing increasingly worried.

Ginny looked up at Ron. “Where did she go?”

“I asked her to get something for me in Diagon Alley. She left before Harry and I did.” He stared at Ginny. “Have you not seen her all day?”

Ginny remained silent at first, but her face spoke volumes. “Not since this morning. Do you where in Diagon Alley she was headed?”

Ron looked a tad uncomfortable and shifted uneasily. “I needed her to get some…Scythian Fluff Bugs. Nothing big.” He mumbled the last words, but Ginny understood.

“Why would you need Scythian Fluff Bugs?” A smile stole over Ginny’s face as she realised the significance. They were the primary ingredient in an ointment to relieve the painful effects of a nasty hex that enjoyed a burst of popularity among several Death Eaters. Ron had unfortunately been hit with it while battling several of them. Though the initial outburst had been by far the most damning, the recurring outbreaks had proven to be irritatingly troublesome. “Is the Fire-Fart Hex bothering you again, Ron?”

“Look, that’s not important!” He commented more loudly than before. “Hermione should have been back ages ago. If she’s not here, then she’s missing.”

“Who’s missing?” Harry asked as he entered the room and walked over to Ginny. He placed a small kiss on the top Ginny’s head and draped an arm around her shoulder. He looked at Ron.

“Hermione is.” Ron was breathing heavily by now.

“Hermione’s missing?” Harry repeated as he looked at Ginny. “She was working with you on the Bubo-Bat-Bogey Hex, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, she was, but she’s been working more on interpreting ancient runes. She told me she was all keyed up about it or something like that.” Ginny answered. “But then she went to Diagon Alley on an errand for Ron and I’ve not seen her since.”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” Harry asked.

“I thought she was with you.” Ginny explained.

“But we just got back!” Ron yelled.

“I didn’t know that.” Ginny was cool, feeling as though she were being blamed. “I assumed both of you had returned awhile ago and that Hermione was with you.” She was beginning to look worried now, too.

“You should have said something sooner, Ginny!”

“You’re the one who sent her to Diagon Alley in the first place, Ron!”

“Stop it! Both of you!” Harry stood between them with his hands raised. He looked at both of them. “First, we need to make sure she isn’t somewhere in this house. If she isn’t, then we need to raise the alarm and alert others that she’s gone missing.”

A quick but thorough search of Grimmauld Place revealed that Hermione was indeed not there and had not been seen by anyone since she left for Diagon Alley earlier in the day. The mood at Grimmauld Place had not been so dismal since the days when Mrs. Black’s portrait had screamed endlessly. A heavy silence filled the room where the members of the Order of the Phoenix had gathered after searching the entire house.

“What do we do now?” Ron seemed lost. His voice was hesitant.

“We do what we’ve been doing.” McGonagall’s voice was resolute. “The research will continue. You do have her notes, don’t you, Miss Weasley?” Ginny nodded. “The rest of us will continue what we’ve been doing. It’s unfortunate that we’ve lost her, but we can’t spare a soul to go search and to be honest, Mr. Weasley, I don’t think we’d find anything even if we did go traipsing all over Diagon Alley. We cannot allow ourselves to be lured willy-nilly all over the place.”

Ron looked horror-struck. “You’re just going to leave her? Forget all about her?”

“No one is forgetting anyone. Miss Granger knew the risks when she joined the Order. We all did. She would want us to continue doing what we have been doing.” McGonagall’s voice was stern, but her eyes revealed the pain she felt at Hermione’s loss. “The best thing we can do is make sure that her loss was not in vain.” She straightened her robes, her lips tighter than usual, quivering slightly. She dabbed at the corner of one eye. She was clearly shaken by the news, but would not be swayed in her opinion.

“She’s right, Ron.” Mrs. Weasley had loved Hermione like a second daughter. “No one is giving up hope. Hermione is a strong girl. If there’s any chance, she’ll manage.”

Mr. Weasley patted his son’s shoulder. “Here, this should help.”

Ron took the proffered object and stared at it, then at his father. It was a container of Scythian Salve. He walked out of the room without saying anything. He’d never felt worse in all his life.

Later that night, Harry and Ron sat up in the room they shared. Each could have had their own room, but both wanted and needed the companionship. “I know she’s out there…alive.” Ron tossed uneasily in his bed. “Do you really think she’d want us to just let go?”

Harry had been silent since the meeting had broken up. He knew McGonagall and the others had valid points, but also felt that he could do something to help Hermione. She’d never given up on him, no matter what he’d done or how foolishly he’d acted. She’d always been there for him. Harry stood and began to get dressed.

Ron saw it and immediately joined him.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going with you to search for Hermione.”

“No, you’re not.”

“What do you mean I’m not? You can’t go by yourself!”

“Yes, I can and I will.” He stared at Ron. “Look, Ron, McGonagall and the others were right. It could be a trap and there’s probably no sign of her there anyway, but I have to try.”

“And you want me to just sit here all night doing nothing?”

“There’s less chance of attracting any undue attention if I go alone.” Ron still appeared unconvinced. Harry sighed in exasperation. “If you want to do something useful, then go next door into her room and look through her papers. Maybe there’s something there about some side project she might have been working on that might offer a clue. Just be sure you cast a Silencing Charm so no one hears you rummaging through her things, all right?”

“Would she want me looking through her private papers? I mean, Ginny said she had her notes.” Harry rolled his eyes. “All right, all right. It just feels a bit weird to go poking around her personal stuff.” Ron shrugged. “Be careful, Harry.”

“If the others find out I’ve gone before I get back, tell them you knew nothing about it, all right?” Ron nodded. Harry left Grimmauld Place, bound for Diagon Alley.

Harry wasn’t sure what he was looking for in terms of finding Hermione. He had no serious expectations of finding her, but perhaps he could find some little shred of clothing, something that was recognizably hers, something that would give him hope that she still lived. In short, he wanted to find something that might hint at where she’d been and where she’d gone. He’d learned from Ron that she’d gone to purchase Scythian Fluff Bugs to make a salve. Harry ventured to the Apothecary first. Of course, all the shops were closed now. He’d not been able to sneak off earlier when he might have had a chance to talk to someone. Diagon Alley was not the bustling street it had once been, but even in the midst of a war, life went on. People needed the stuff of daily life and the shops that could do so, stayed open. They were open only during daylight hours, however, Harry thought bitterly as he peered into a window. Everything looked normal. There was nothing out of place.

For hours, he wandered aimlessly. He recalled all the adventures he’d had with her in Diagon Alley over the years. It seemed each shop held a memory and he could feel the tears threatening to spill over and roll silently down his face. He realized with a start that he was near the entrance to Knockturn Alley. For several long minutes, he stood and looked. He could hear voices. Of course, Knockturn Alley was as it had always been, perhaps more so now than ever. He knew in his heart, he had to check there.

He raised his wand and uttered a charm to alter his appearance. He was not afraid to enter Knockturn Alley, but figured he’d encounter less interest if he did not appear to be the famous Harry Potter. He felt his face with his fingers to check that it had indeed altered, and then he stepped into the darkness of Knockturn Alley. Several wizards glared at him and more than one hideous witch called out offers of a ‘night in Heaven.’ None paid him any more heed than they did any of the other late-night denizens of this den of iniquity. He found a tavern from which raucous shouts issued. He walked in. The place reeked of cheap liquor and foul-smelling smoke. The patrons were sprawled on filthy chairs and sticky tables. Not all appeared to be conscious; indeed quite a few were clearly out cold. Harry felt dozens of eyes land on him. Most turned away quickly after appraising him and deciding he represented neither threat nor potential benefit and returned to whatever had held their fascination before his entrance.

One wizard, clad in a torn robe, approached Harry and looked him over. “Yer new ‘ere? Aye, I’ve not seen yer face before.” The wizard smiled a grin that was missing quite a number of teeth and afforded Harry a bigger whiff of the wizard’s breath that he cared to have.

“I’m looking for someone. I thought she might be here.” Harry began to question why he had ever entered this establishment. A look around the tavern revealed none who appeared to be there against their will. He knew Hermione would never willingly set foot in such a place.

The near-toothless wizard with the bad breath shook his head. “There’s lots of women ‘ere if that’s what yer lookin’ fer.” He leaned in, nearly knocking Harry unconscious with the odor of bad whiskey. “Most of ‘em ‘ere will do anything fer anyone fer a couple of sickles.” He laughed so hard he began to choke. He hit Harry on the back. “Take yer pick, sonny!”

“Yeah, I will.” Harry wanted to leave. She was obviously not here and he did not feel safe. Several of the witches called to him as he headed to the door. Their offers became insults as he walked out into the chill night air and headed back to Diagon Alley.

He continued to walk the streets of Diagon Alley, refusing to give up on finding some piece of anything that would lead him to Hermione. Finally, as the first rays of red began to creep over the horizon, he knew he had to return to Grimmauld Place. As with every day before, Harry had a full schedule of things to do. With a heavy heart and a personal vow to search till his dying day, he returned to Grimmauld Place.

McGonagall was sitting in the kitchen drinking a cup of tea. “Good morning, Mr. Potter.”

He jumped. “I didn’t see you there.” He looked at his former Head of House. She looked so much older than when he’d first met her, though only a couple of years had passed since then. He felt guilty for lying to her about not sneaking off that night. Under her reproachful look he continued, “How long have you been waiting?”

“Not long, I assure you. Although, I was most disappointed to discover you were missing when I discovered Mr. Weasley rummaging through Miss Granger’s personal belongings.”

Silence hung in the air. Harry did not know what to say at first. “I had to try…” He started.

McGonagall held up her hand to stop him from launching into a lengthy explanation. “I know, Potter. I know.”

“You do? Then why did you try to stop me?”

“Oh, if I’d known you were going to sneak off in the middle of the night, I most certainly would have stopped you. Make no mistake about it, Potter!” She sipped her tea. “Can I offer you a cup of tea?” Harry shook his head, but she stood to retrieve an empty cup anyway and poured him one. “You look as if you need it.” She said as she handed the steaming cup to him. Both sipped quietly. “Sit down, Harry.” She said as she sat down heavily herself. Her voice was tired, not as strong as he remembered it. “You’re not the only one who feels the loss.”

Harry started to speak, “Her parents…”

Once again she held up her hand. “Hear me out, Harry. Please.” He settled back in his chair. “As I started to say, you’re not the only one who grieves her loss. All of us here were very fond of her.” Her brow creased and her lips pursed tightly as she tried to find the words. “Her parents…the word came early this morning, Harry. There was an attack in a Muggle neighborhood. There were no survivors.” She looked pained as she saw a wave of grief and anger overtake Harry. “So you understand how worried I was? To know you were off who knows where and then to learn of a Death Eater attack. Harry you could have been killed for nothing!”

“It wouldn’t have been for nothing! It would have been while searching for a friend! A friend who has always been there for me! That’s not for nothing! It isn’t! It isn’t!” Harry screamed. He needed to vent all the frustrations that had been building for years. So many losses and deaths had happened to people because they were too close to him. Voldemort had taken his parents and his Godfather. Now he was responsible for taking the girl who had been like a beloved sister as well as a best friend. He tensed as an almost primal scream of rage erupted from within. He collapsed his face onto the table and the tears burst forth.

McGonagall allowed him to scream even though she knew it would wake the others. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley quickly entered the kitchen with deeply worried looks on their faces. McGonagall explained what had happened. Mrs. Weasley gasped in surprise at the news of Hermione’s parents, then quickly strode to Harry’s side and embraced him. Mr. Weasley stood at his other side. “We’re here for you, Harry.”

Harry looked up at all of them. “I want this to end.”

“The best thing you can do, Harry, is to follow through what we are doing. We will put a stop to this. Those who have died will not have died in vain. That’s how you honor the memory of Hermione, her parents, your parents, Dumbledore, Sirius, Cedric Diggory, Emmeline Vance and all the others. Defeat You-Know-Who and all of this will stop. It’s what all of them would have wanted, Harry.”
Harry looked at Mr. Weasley. “You’re right. He’ll pay for this.” Harry was more determined than ever to continue the fight. He could grieve properly later. For now, he had a job to do.