No Longer Helpless

Chapter Three
Breaking the News

The trouble with the attack on Hermione at this point was deciding whether or not to tell Harry and Ron.

Dumbledore contemplated his options, carefully weighing each aspect. Of course he came to his conclusion that such matters couldn’t be withheld from Harry, and if he told one then he would have to talk with the other as well. Even if part of him was saying Harry would be better off not knowing, he couldn’t help but remember what had resulted from keeping the prophecy a secret.

If there was ever a man to learn from his mistakes, it was Dumbledore. He would not keep Harry in the shadows any longer, not if they were going to win this war.

Gravely, the Headmaster stood up from his chair in front of Hermione’s bed. Taking a few steps backwards, his navy robes swayed. He kept his eyes trained on Hermione’s sleeping form, wondering what to do about the other issue at hand.

Though an easy ‘Enervate’ would have been in order, Poppy had said it would be best to let her wake of her own accord. So, Dumbledore had waited beside the girl, hoping to be the first face she saw and person to question her.

Now however, he needed to visit the other members of the trio. He needed to talk to them about her condition.

It didn’t bode well with him whenever he couldn’t place all the pieces of the puzzle together, especially after trying his best to make sense of it all. Eventually he would figure it out, but he’d need help. The aide of his library and perhaps a few old friends would more than likely sort all these jumbled details out.

Regardless of not knowing all the answers he would break the news to the two young men. Walking back to the doorway, he left the large room that was the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts.

**

Having been woken up a bit earlier than he would have liked, Ron Weasley sat somewhat bleary eyed in a soft armchair at 12 Grimmauld Place.

Harry on the other hand was used to either staying awake or being woken at all hours of the day, so he was rather attentive to the serious mood Dumbledore was in right now.

The two of them sat in similar chairs in a small study of the Black residence. Having refused to endure the Dursleys any longer Harry found he much preferred staying at Headquarters, even if Sirius wasn’t there anymore. Ron on the other hand had been home in his bed when his mother woke him up and told him to get dressed, before departing for the old Black mansion.

Stifling a yawn, Ron blinked his slightly watered eyes and rubbed his freckled face. With one big intake of breath he slowly exhaled and started to feel the fog lift. Now that he knew he wouldn’t be going back to sleep, there was no point in remaining half way so.

His flaming red hair was unkempt and jutted out here and there, some pieces lying flat and covering just past his ears. He preferred his hair to be some what lengthy, just so it would cover his ears, because they seemed to always be the first part of him that went red when embarrassed or angry. Shifting slightly, he propped himself up straighter, giving his long legs more room.

Harry didn’t move at all. He sat straight, with his arms on the rests, a little worried at the upcoming news. His raven brown hair obscured part of his vision and still looked windswept even after brushing it. Through his glasses his emerald eyes bore holes into the door, waiting for it to open.

Neither spoke a word, not needing or wanting to. Harry finally blinked when he saw the doorknob twist.

Dumbledore entered the room. His long robes moved with his tall frame. Many felt that the old wizard was slightly imposing, though each Hogwart’s student would say differently.

It didn’t take a genius to know this man had power of many kinds. With each step the Headmaster surveyed the room. First the bookshelves, packed on one side, a little sparse on the other, all old and ancient texts. The wooden floor had a sole rug, its rich red color now a dull orange, tarnished and beaten from years of shoes and feet walking all over it. A recent addition stood out against the worn contents of the room and the actual room itself. A mahogany desk sat brightly in front of an unused fireplace. The desk was about the only lively thing in the room, apart from the two boys. The two armchairs were on the other side of the well-used workstation.

This was Remus’ study. At least, it was the one he had been using while at Headquarters. The kindhearted werewolf wasn’t a man for frivolities.

Green eyes stared unflinching into slightly dimmer than usual blue ones. Taking a seat at the desk, Dumbledore laced his hands together with his elbows propped up on the tabletop. Sighing, his eyes searched for a moment, trying to figure the right words.

“Harry, Ron,” he spoke with assurance and calm while looking from one boy to the next. “There has been an attack.” He paused a moment, wanting to let each bit of information settle in before giving the next. “While I promise you that she is alive and breathing, Hermione was the target.” Those were really the only basic facts, the target and condition of said target. Now the rest would be filled in when he answered the questions that were sure to follow.

“How is Hermione?” Ron questioned, standing up in one swift motion as if to stride into the other room and find her there. His tall frame reached six foot three inches and was more than out of place beside the other two sitting figures.

“Please, Mr. Weasley, take a seat. We have much to discuss.” Dumbledore ordered calmly.

Listening immediately, as though it was automatic to follow orders, Ron sat on the very edge of the cushion. “Where is she, can we see her?”

Shaking his head Dumbledore attempted to make himself clear before Ron went haywire. “Mr. Weasley, please understand that this is a delicate situation. You are not allowed to see Miss Granger.”

At these words Harry, who had remained seated casually, though his concern was betrayed in his eyes, finally stirred. “What do you mean we aren’t allowed? What happened exactly?”

Ron kept his silence, partly because he felt Harry would do a better job getting the answers they wanted and partly because he didn’t trust that he could keep his cool at this point. Their Hermione had been attacked. She was alive, but in what condition?

Pausing just a moment, Dumbledore explained all they knew on their end, still unclear for what details needed to be filled in by Hermione herself. “Mundugus was Hermione’s Watcher. He was on duty yesterday when it happened.”

Ron twitched. He almost opened his mouth to express his anger at being informed more than ten minutes after the incident took place. If anything happened to any of them, it was their wish to know immediately, not a day later.

“He was missing, but reports placed him at St. Mungo’s. No doubt the work of the Death Eaters. He told us what he could remember, which didn’t include anything from the attack. The last thing he remembers was Hermione flipping the closing sign on a bookstore called Frankie’s.”

“Frankie’s?” Harry questioned, “She was closing a store?”

“It would seem so. I do not make a habit of detailing every aspect of your lives. It is not my wish to invade Hermione’s privacy, so I simply set a watch, not a house arrest. I doubt it has anything to do with the attack, so that matter is irrelevant.”

Neither of them liked that there were things about Hermione they knew nothing of.

Nodding in agreement, though storing the information away, Harry waited for Dumbledore to continue.

“Time wise, it was shortly after Mundugus’ last visual contact of Hermione that the attack took place. The ministry of course received reports of underage magic.” Perhaps the whole truth was in order. In fact it might even serve as a warning to Harry who possessed such untapped power, impressing the need to begin taking precautions. “A rather large amount of magic was detected. So great in fact, that it occurred to us Voldemort himself might be attacking. It is never a good thing when raw magic is unleashed.” He met Harry’s eyes and searched for an understanding at his underlying meaning.

Slightly irked that his mentor would be trying to advise him when all they wanted to know was what had happened to their friend, Harry narrowed his eyes. It wouldn’t do well to actually get in his way of Hermione, the same went for Ron. There were a whole new set of rules when it came to the three of them. “Sir, what was the source of this power?” he asked, keeping the conversation on track

As a perceptive man, Dumbledore left his tactic behind and decided to solely focus on what Harry wanted. “Hermione was the source. I’m afraid I can’t go into details on that right now, since I myself don’t know what happened exactly. When she wakes up we can question her.”

“She hasn’t woken up yet? How can she be okay then?” Harry’s tone was betraying his concern with hints of desperation.

“Madame Pomfrey assures me that she is merely sleeping. It’s quite natural to sleep for extended amounts of time after such a large exertion of magic. Her body is tired and needs this rest. Aside from that she is in perfect health.”

“So, if she’s fine and just asleep, why can’t we see her?” Ron asked, hoping to find a loophole and get Dumbledore to change his mind.

“No. If there is one thing I must insist upon it is that at this point in time you cannot see Hermione. Not until we know more.” His words left no room for argument, much to the boys’ dismay. Neither would settle for this, he knew they’d continue trying and asking.

Of the three, Harry sometimes acted as the more logical one, next to Hermione. He left the matter of seeing Hermione behind, though not dropping it entirely. Now he needed to ask the right questions. If he knew Dumbledore as well as he thought he did, there was either a time limit to this conversation or a limit to the number of questions he could ask. “If Hermione is perfectly fine, then what was the attack on about?”

Nodding approvingly, Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled with slight pride, but dimmed again when he spoke. “Mr. and Mrs. Granger were subject to the attack. Sadly, they were murdered. Again, we don’t have much information. We’re waiting for Severus to come back from a rushed meeting with Voldemort. It is my guess that the attack didn’t go as planned, though the state we found Miss Granger in would have indicated as much.”

“And what state would that be, sir?” Harry inquired keenly.

Raising his eyebrows over his half moon spectacles Dumbledore smiled ever so slightly. “Alive, Harry. Their plan was surely to put an end to our Head Girl’s life, which I’m overjoyed didn’t happen.”

Both boys nodded, having no reason to suspect any other meaning in what the older wizard had said.

“Head Girl?” Ron asked.

“Ah, yes. For this coming school year, Miss Granger has indeed been selected to be Head Girl. She doesn’t know yet of course, so I’d appreciate it if word didn’t get out,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.

The two of them smiled at this information. “She’ll be thrilled, when she wakes up of course,” Ron said, already imagining the way her face would light up.

The mood had lightened considerably and Dumbledore felt that now would be a good time to call it a night, or rather a morning. It was still dark out, but it was nearly six o’clock. As Dumbledore stood, Ron and Harry followed suit.

“Sir, you’ll contact us and let us know everything that is going on won’t you. Once she wakes up, you’ll tell us, right?” Harry asked, rushing to get at least a few more questions in.

“Of course,” the Headmaster assured. “Now, however, I must see to business. Good day gentlemen.” With a flutter of deep blue robes, the old wizard left the two boys alone. His concerns were now with Severus and the possible conscious state of Miss Granger.

Harry and Ron stood, smiles wiped off their faces. Both were rather imposing, Ron with his height and strong build, like his brother Charlie. Harry was only a few inches shorter than Ron, and although not as broad or largely built, they had near equal physical strength from six years of training for their favorite sport, Quidditch. Not to mention he could instill fear with a harsh glare. When he wanted to and sometimes without meaning to, his gaze was so sharp and his eye color so vivid it made even a Death Eater think twice about approaching.

Dumbledore was an extraordinary wizard and was well adept to manipulating a situation and judging character, but he had underestimated both of them. Reaching behind the chair Harry pulled out an old traveling bag, tanned dragon hide worn with wear. Inside were their cloaks. Handing Ron his slightly tattered burgundy one, Harry pulled out his own dark slate one.

Donning his cloak, Harry didn’t even look at Ron while asking, “Think we can make it Hogsmeade before anyone knows?”

Ron grinned broadly. “That’s what makes this fun.”

With that the two of them were off, on a mission to reach Hermione, not caring in the least about being told not to. When she woke up, they would be right there beside her.

**

“We’ll have to discuss precautions for Granger’s safety tonight at the Order meeting.” Snape was now clutching his forearm and standing. It was evident that the Dark Lord was summoning him. Leaving the Headmaster’s office he swept down the stairs, black robes billowing behind him, face paler than usual.

Dumbledore was left to muse by himself, which was just what he wanted after hearing Severus’ report. He needed some time to think matters over. According to the potion’s master, the Dark Lord had been in an uproar over the ‘insolent wench’ and her survival.

He stared at the basin upon his desk and frowned slightly. Then he leaned forward to witness the events of that night all over again. Severus had kindly allowed him the use of his memory from the meeting to more easily obtain what information he felt important.

The Death Eaters who carried out the attack had been harshly punished. Suffice to say the word ‘crucio’ was used quite often. Then, being a bi-polar maniac, Voldemort went from being furious to absolutely elated over the incident. Not a second after he used his power of Legimens on a severely injured Lestrange, he laughed.

Everyone had gathered around, waiting for new orders. “It would seem,” the Dark Lord hissed, “that the mudblood is now more useful to me alive than as a rotting corpse.” He paused, formulating yet another evil plan. “Snape!” he called.

One Death Eater stepped forth. “Yes, m’Lord?” he bowed in subservience.

“You are to keep an eye on this girl. I want to know every detail about her, and I don’t want her to so much as cough with out knowing about it. Go back to Hogwarts for now. I’ll speak with you later.”

That was the end of the memory. He had apparently turned up outside the Headmaster’s office shortly after.

**

Harry and Ron were surprisingly sly when they truly wanted to be. Having Harry’s invisibility cloak and Marauder’s map didn’t hurt their quest either.

They had made it all the way to Hogsmeade without tripping any alarms or raising any flags. They were nearly there. Being so close to their destination they both began to grow slightly impatient as they waited for the coast to clear before heading into the basement of Honey Dukes.

Before they knew it, they were heading down the dark corridor that was the secret underpass between Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. All the way to the Hospital Wing they crept silently, yet swiftly. Finally reaching the large double doors, they hesitated. Unsure of how to proceed, they checked the map.

Hermione was in there and she was alone. Not another soul in the room or nearby. It was almost too good to be true, which they were well aware could be the case.

Easing the door open, they slid inside and discarded the invisible guise. Part of them hoped she’d awake just for them, somehow knowing even in her sleep that they had arrived. Instead, she remained motionless, lying in a bed at the far end of the room beside a tall window.

As they neared, they were able to see her better. Standing in front of her bed, both boys stared in shock and awe. Their Hermione didn’t appear to be anything but asleep, but they saw something rather unexpected. Ron let out a long breath, “She’s beautiful,” he stated, almost entranced.

Harry seemed to agree. Closing his mouth that he didn’t know was hanging open he nodded. “I’ve never seen…” he seemed at a loss for the right words. Perhaps they were both just overwhelmed to finally see her again after so much worry over recent events. But, as they gazed at her sleeping face they knew that wasn’t true.

Neither could place it. She didn’t seem to have changed since they saw her last, which was just the other day. And yet, here she was, appearing as they’d never seen her. Maybe it was because she was asleep. No, that was ridiculous. Perhaps this had something to do with why Dumbledore didn’t want them to see her, something had happened.

Her hair was a mass of golden brown locks, gently gracing her shoulders and pillow. The morning sun poured in over her. Her features were soft and glowing, lashes dark and long touched her rosy cheeks, plush red lips unmoving in silence. Slowly and steadily her chest rose and fell beneath the covers.

After a few minutes of simply staring and wondering, they pulled up a set of chairs, one on either side of the bed. The trio was reunited. The world seemed to spin again.

An hour or so later, Ron and Harry’s conversation over who might be able to fill the opened positions on the Quidditch team was abruptly interrupted. The Hospital Wing doors flew open and Professor McGonagall strode in dragging a more than reluctant boy with her.

“Poppy!” the Transfiguration professor called out.

“Professor, I swear I’m fine. Honestly, coming to the Hospital Wing is a bit much,” came a deep and stern voice.

“Nonsense,” she brushed his concerns away. “Moody got you pretty bad with the last one. There is more than likely some internal damage.” Just as she seemed to realize that Madame Pomfrey wasn’t there she caught sight of Harry and Ron. Of course she knew Hermione was there. Her eyes widened. The two boys seemed to have similar reactions, standing to face their strict Head of House.

“Professor, please, we couldn’t possibly not come,” Harry began, but stopped once she held her hand up.

“Might I leave now, professor?” the same deep voice from before asked, only now there seemed a harsher, cooler tone to it.

It was then that Harry and Ron finally noticed. There, standing beside professor McGonagall was Draco Malfoy. His trade mark sneer was set in place at the sight of the other two boys. His hair, while still white blonde was not slicked back, but hanging at odd angles, much as Harry’s did on his best hair days. Some of the hair hung limply in his eyes. His clothes were not the impeccably clean ones he wouldn’t be seen without as before. Now, they were riddled and caked with dirt, mud, and grass stains. There were a couple of torn pieces in his shirt, especially over his chest, where it almost looked like the shirt had been burned through. A small gash marred his composed and impassive face, along with a smear of blood and dirt.

The Slytherin crossed his arms over his chest, an action that had never before that day been intimidating. Having finally come into his own, his physique was almost a copy of Harry’s.

Malfoy had seemed to change an impossible amount in little over a week, since that was the last time either could remember noticing Malfoy. Though, neither boy could proclaim they had studied their enemy’s features, so he had most likely spent the year growing into the young man before them today.


>>