The Unfortunates

Finally an update! Sorry it took longer than expected, I sent it off a bit late to my beta and she\'s been busy as of late too. Anyway, here it is, and I hope you\'ll enjoy it!

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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE: A GATHERING OF ALLIES


Hermione had never been fond of flying, and she knew this all too well.

Ron had known it for quite some time too, and it appeared that even with everything he’d been through he still hadn’t forgotten it.

“If you’re nervous, you could fly with me,” he commented.

She was shaking slightly, wanting to blame it on the coolness of the night but knowing it was really due to her nervousness about getting back on one of those damn things – it was not safe, of this she was certain.

“Ehm – sure,” she answered Ron, not really wanting to admit to him that she was afraid but wanting even less to get back on one of those damn things alone. She remembered flying with Severus had been slightly less awful than flying alone.

Then again, perhaps that was because it had been with Severus...

Severus.

His name popped into her mind, as if she hadn’t thought of him in weeks. How could she have forgotten? Forgotten him, their confrontation with Malfoy, the outcome of said confrontation; how could she have forgotten to contact him?

The refugees from the cave were gathered all around her, barely visible in the dark night, as they one by one mounted their brooms, preparing themselves to leave. For some reason, Hermione got sick at the very thought.

How could she have forgotten him?

“Everyone ready?” said Mr. Flourish, who would be guiding their dangerous flight to the Black Isle. From there, Hermione would have to locate Killengreen, as she was the only one amongst them who could see it.

“Hermione?” said Ron, urging her to get onto the broom in front of him.

She shook her head, feeling disorientated. “Wait one moment please, Ron,” she said distractedly, fumbling with the hem of her cloak to get to her pendant, impatiently pulling it out to look at it.

There was no message on it for her – she had halfway expected one.

Why hadn’t he contacted her, if he was alright? Gods, she didn’t even want to think of what had happened, had he become so incapacitated he couldn’t even send off a message...

And then it hit her: Neither could she.

Hermione felt as though her stomach turned to ice; as horrible and unfair a realization it was, it was nevertheless a fact that without a wand, Hermione could not magic the pendant to inscribe her message to Severus. She couldn’t tell him she was alright; couldn’t inform him that she’d found other refugees and was on her way.

She sighed, loudly and irritably, stupidly wishing that all the hopelessness of her life would just go away already.

Then another thought hit her – perhaps Severus was alright... Perhaps he, too, had just lost his wand?

Feeling slightly, though not much, at ease as this thought, Hermione turned to Ron again, who was studying her with a puzzled expression.

“What was that all about?” he asked, nodding towards the pendant still clasped between her fingers.

“It’s – it was,” she corrected, “a way for me to contact Sev – Professor Snape. But I just realize without a wand it’s useless.”

“Professor Snape?” Ron raised his eyebrows. “He’s –”

“Yes, he is,” interrupted Hermione, not really wanting to discuss him further, “and it’s to his place we’re going. Now could we please get on with things? It’s getting chilly, and the longer we wait the greater the risk of being spotted or caught.”

“Well said,” said Mr. Weasley, kicking off from the ground. The rest of the refugees followed his example, and Hermione climbed onto the broom in front of Ron, clasping it tightly, nervously, as he too kicked off and they all soared off into the night sky, willing the gods to let them travel undiscovered by the enemy.

* * *

Remus Lupin had never much cared for London.

It was a loud, noisy town which, even when one was in Diagon Alley, oozed of nasty gases and pollution caused by reckless Muggles. It was crowded, stressful and quite frankly not all that nice a town.

Though, Lupin suspected, he would certainly have enjoyed the town better had he not been there for this particular purpose, in these particular, dark times.

He was wandering through Diagon Alley – well disguised, obviously – making his way towards the corner of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, seeking out a small, almost cosy-looking brothel in which he dreaded he would find nothing of interest in his search for Severus and Hermione.

It had been nearly a day since Severus had left Killengreen, and since then none of the Rebels had heard for neither him nor Hermione. Severus, who apparently had finally managed to admit that he did respect Hermione and did think her ideas worthy or listening too, had after her return to Malfoy Manor bewitched several other silver pendants similar to the one he himself wore, giving them all the very ability that Hermione had given Severus’s pendant.

So through the little thing around his neck, Lupin was able to contact Severus, should there be need for it. Severus now wore two pendants, in fact – one to keep contact with Hermione and one to keep contact with the Rebels – but still it appeared he had not been using them, as he had not replied a single one of Lupin’s messages asking if he was alright.

So Lupin suspected the worst.

He suspected that both Severus and Hermione had been caught, and that, hours from now, twenty Death Eaters would run down the doors of the once so secure Killengreen, capturing what was left of the little pocket of resistance, thus ruining the hope of the Wizarding World once and for all.

Needless to say, Lupin was in no mood for friendly banter or technicalities.

So when he reached House of Lilly Barrette’s and entered the dark, gloomy pub, he didn’t bother to speak to any of the girls working there, nor take in the surroundings. He simply did what felt natural, and went for a secluded door in a corner. He found he had no time to lose.

“Excuse me – Sir!” cried a female voice behind him, and the sound of rushing feet was heard just before a cute redhead stopped him just as he was reaching for the door handle.

“Sorry, love,” she smiled nastily, “you can’t go through there without company.”

Lupin sighed. “I wish I could abide by your rules, Miss, but I’m in a hurry,” he replied regretfully, pushing her out of the way and then reaching for the door.

He caught sight of her in the crook of his eye, reaching for her wand, but he was too quick for her: He had to be drastic, hated being so but knew his and everyone’s future – even hers – was at stake here, and pulled out his own wand, faster than her eye could catch, immobilizing her before she could as much as open her mouth.

Then he rushed through the door, facing a long corridor filled with just more, more doors... He groaned, but did not hesitate long before rushing to the first door, wrenching it open, quickly scanning the inside – there were no one there.

He left this door, went for another, looked inside – nothing.

But the third door...

As he opened it, his desperation and impatience almost getting the better of him at this point, he was suddenly met with a sight so unnatural he could hardly believe it: There he was, sleeping like a baby: Severus Snape, lying in bed with a blanket covering his lean body, and with a pretty, young girl – didn’t Lupin recognize her from somewhere? – wiping his brow, if a bit hesitantly.

She started and jump straight from her place by the bed, dropping the wet cloth as she did so, at the sight of him.

Brocklehurst! his mind suddenly screamed.

“I’m sorry,” said Lupin quickly, slamming the door shut behind him, desperately trying to think fast: What did she know? Was she alright to speak to, reveal his face to? She’d seen Severus’s, which at least suggested she hadn’t turned him in yet, and Lupin was still armed...

He took a chance, pulling his hood down for her to see.

“Pro – Professor Lupin?!” said Mandy Brocklehurst, jumping yet again in shock.

From the bed there came a grunt from Severus; the wet cloth had hit his face.

“It’s me,” said Lupin reassuringly.

“You’re – you’re on that – that list,” muttered Miss Brocklehurst, apparently struggling to form coherent sentences; and no wonder, running into two of your former Professors, whom you’d believed to be dead, in one day, can certainly do that to you.

“Yes, I am, but don’t worry,” said Lupin. “Both Severus – Professor Snape – and I are working for the light. Now listen, Miss Brocklehurst,” he said urgently, stepping up to her and grabbing her arms gently, “this is very important: Have you told anyone that Professor Snape is here?”

“N-no,” she replied nervously.

“Good,” said Lupin. “I don’t have much time; there could be people rushing in here any second, looking for me. I reckon because you haven’t turned him in that means you’re against Voldemort?”

She winced at the name, but nodded with determination still. “I sure hope I can trust you, Professor,” she added, “but if you’re on that list and not dead that must mean you are...”

“I’m telling the truth, yes,” interrupted Lupin. “And I need to take Professor Snape with me. In how bad a shape is he?”

“Not too bad, I think,” replied Miss Brocklehurst, “just beaten and shaky, and I think he might have a concussion... He was acting a bit strange when he woke up. I – I don’t know what had happened, Professor; only that he was meeting Mira –”

“Hermione,” said Lupin before he could stop himself.

“What?”

He sighed. “Mira is Hermione. Hermione Granger; remember her?”

Miss Brocklehurst nodded slowly. “All that time it was... her? And she was meeting up with a stranger who in fact was Professor Snape?”

Lupin nodded.

“Gods!” moaned Miss Brocklehurst, throwing her hands up in exasperation, “I wonder what this makes Malfoy – Cornelius Fudge?”

“No,” said Lupin very gravely, “Malfoy is very much the real thing. And I suspect he is what happened to Professor Snape and Hermione... They were alone in this room, I take it?”

“Yes, I’d leant it to Mira – Hermione,” replied Miss Brocklehurst, “as a friendly favour, you know. But when I got back here, all I saw was Professor Snape lying on the floor, apparently knocked out. I found his wand under the bed,” she added as an afterthought.

“So you don’t know where Hermione is?” asked Lupin desperately.

“Sorry,” said Miss Brocklehurst, smiling sadly.

“Right,” nodded Lupin, drawing a deep breath. “Well, until Severus wakes up we won’t know, and I cannot wait for him to wake here; I need to bring him to our hideout.” He hesitated. “I take it you’ll want to come?”

Miss Brocklehurst frowned. “You’re being very sudden, Professor; I only just discovered –”

“Miss Brocklehurst,” Lupin interrupted impatiently, not wanting to say what was coming but knowing he had to, “I’m so sorry, but you’ve got no choice – I believe you when you say you support the light, but still I can’t let you stay behind here on your own. You know too much now – I need to know I can trust you for sure.”

She blinked, her eyes widening.

“Relax, it’s not as if you’ll be held prisoner,” said Lupin with a smile, “you will like it there. You’ll meet others from Hogwarts; others who survived.”

This caught Miss Brocklehurst’s attention. “I’ll go,” she said with determination.

“Good,” said Lupin. “Now I need your help to bring Severus before someone finds me – not to mention him – in here.” He reached down to the floor, picking up a wand he had spotted there moments earlier.

“Here,” he said, handing it to her, “you shouldn’t leave it lying around like that.”

“Oh – that one’s not mine,” said Miss Brocklehurst, seemingly surprised as she pulled out another wand from her robes. “This one is.”

“Then this is...” Lupin squinted at the wand in his hands. “...Hermione’s.”

He forced a weak smile.

Hermione was missing – missing and also, it would appear, unarmed.

* * *

Hermione was scratching the back of her hand nervously, the hand being scratched clasping the broom handle even tighter as she did so, feeling rather stupid.

It had been forty minutes since Mr. Flourish had announced that they were indeed flying over the Black Isle. Hermione was relieved; the flight over Moray Firth had no less than terrified her, as flying over open water was considered by her as even worse than flying over land.

Yet there was, all in all, little relief to be found as they flew their way from the coast and over the length of Black Isle. Hermione found that Black Isle was much bigger than she’d first suspected, and although Mr. Flourish knew the area to some extent he was not very adept at flying over it, in the dark of night, trying to spot which areas were which.

And besides, Hermione knew rather little about exactly where on the Black Isle Killengreen lay – she’d never had use of this information, after all. She seemed to recall, however, that Lupin had said once, during Hermione’s stay at Killengreen, that he was going to go on a food raid in Jemimaville, clearly indicating that this town wasn’t far from the Snape estate. This was the only clue they had.

And it was risky, too, flying about like this for hours – at some point, someone would spot them, and if a follower of Voldemort did so, they would not be up there for long.

“I think we ought to fly lower,” Hermione declared, turning slightly to make sure Ron had heard her message. He nodded, then waved a hand towards Mr. Weasley and Mr. Flourish on his left, who understood and sent the message on. Soon they were skimming over the tree tops near Jemimaville; Hermione was searching the dark landscape desperately for a sight of the old Snape house, whereas the other refugees were simply looking for a large, abandoned-looking hilltop.

It was, slightly to Hermione’s surprise, the stranger Jim Higsley who caught sight of it first.

“There,” he gestured towards her and Ron, pointing down towards the rural landscape and a small forest surrounding what appeared to be a large, gloomy looking hilltop... With, to Hermione’s eyes, a very large, gloomy looking castle situated on top of it.

“That’s it,” she confirmed to Ron, and he flipped them down, immediately setting course for the ground; the refugees followed suit.

Within seconds they once again felt firm ground under their feet, as they all dismounted their brooms on the outskirts of the Killengreen property. Hermione immediately took in the sight of the castle again, experiencing a strange feeling of relief as she did so: This was Severus’s home. Harry was here.

Here, they were safe.

“So this is it, is it?” said Zacharias Smith, his broom clasped in one hand and a small, ragged bag in the other. “Doesn’t look like much to me.”

“Why’s that, d’you think?” snapped Fred Weasley.

“It’s been cast with the Fidelius Charm,” commented Mr. Weasley. “I remember Severus in fact telling me so once.”

“He spoke of Killengreen to you?” asked Hermione at once.

“It came up in conversation.” Mr. Weasley shrugged. “We never got into it.”

Hermione smiled slightly.

“Well,” she said, addressing the ground of refugees as they all gathered around her, looking weary and quite tired, “you’re just going to have to wait here while I go inside... You need Professor Snape to actually see the estate.”

Though outwardly she appeared calm and pleased with their findings, Hermione was nothing of the sort; she was practically horrified. She knew fully well that Severus might not be at Killengreen; he might be dead or worse, and perhaps the refugees would never get to see his childhood home, and perhaps Death Eaters would come after having penetrated Severus’s mind, capturing them all...

No. It was no good thinking that; it served no purpose.

Nodding determinedly to herself, Hermione turned from the refugees and made her way up the hill to the gothic house, slowly vanishing from Ron and the others’ view as she did so. She reached the huge front doors, pulled them open and rushed inside, immediately making for the dining hall to seek out her dear friends.

She entered, and the look overwhelmed her.

There he sat, alone and lost in thought, as though contemplating something way too big for his young mind. Poor, poor Harry; he’d been through so much and still the worse was yet to come.

But now Ron was here.

“Harry,” whispered Hermione, feeling her chest almost ache with joy as he looked up, spotted her and jumped from his seat, his chair flying, as he rushed to her side, grasping her and hugging her tightly.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he said.

“Don’t worry; I am,” said Hermione hastily, anxiously, “but what about Severus? Professor Snape; is he here? It’s urgent, Harry – you’ve got to see – I need –”

“Hermione,” Harry interrupted, smiling slightly. “Don’t worry.”

She blinked, frowning slightly.

“He’s here.”

Hermione couldn’t help herself; she hugged him again.


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A/N: Ah, I hope you survived that... As always I must give my thanks to my dear, faithful beta, JessiokaFroka!

And - as always :) - your reviews are SO appreciated (you have no idea, seriously), please keep \'em coming!! Now, next up is a grand reunion, obviously, and also, Severus discovers something about one of the refugees...