Mistaken Identity

Sorry it took me so long to update.

Chapter 3 More letters


Hermione went down to the river on the other side of the woods and looked for Harry’s bottle for a few days.
Finally, the forth day the bottle floated into her hands.

Dear Hermione,
We are tracking the Deatheaters and hope to have a lot of them captured.
I’m sick of fighting and all I want to do is sleep for a week I’m so tired. Did I thank you for the last letter you wrote? I always feel better after writing to you and your letters help me to keep me going. You’re a godsend, my rock, and my one link to the real world where I know good things are alive and well. Where your softness and gentleness and your belief in me keeps me sane. Neville told me a few days ago that Hanna was expecting…Please tell her from us congratulations’.
There were three drips of ink on the paper after congratulations. Hermione looked at the drops … he was thinking, he was wondering … if she, Hermione was expecting, and was thinking of asking the question, was he going to be a father too.
He ended the letter with “please write to me, I need your letters I need to hear from you;” there was a large L a little too large for Looking forward too your letters, your Harry.

She wrote to him within the hour.

Dear Harry,
‘I’m glad my letters comfort you. Your letters do the same for me. The letters and you keep my hope alive. Do be careful. I do worry about you, are you eating enough, sleeping well and are you keeping warm and dry in the snow? I sound like a mother hen trying to keep her chick together sometimes I think. I gave Hanna a huge hug from both of us.’

It felt strange to Hermione putting down ‘us’, as though they were really together.
She shook it off.
Hermione wanted to write she wasn’t with child but each time the she went to write she just remembered that night and she started to shake. It was best to write about something else, something happy.

Hanna is doing well but misses Neville quite a bit. She said she would be leaving in the spring to go to Neville grandmother’s house. I hear his Grams is quite the spitfire for an old woman. I guess she knows tons of spells and enchantments to keep her home safe from the Deatheaters. I think it’s safe to stay with the basics myself. Well it’s dinnertime. Will send this to you straight way. Take care Harry’ and then as she tightly rolled the letter and dipped the ends in wax to seal it; she blew on the wax to cool it down and whispered,
“Be careful Harry,” and brought the scrolled letter to her lips.

She thought for a moment she was going mad, but with all they had been writing to each other of course she felt something for him. He confided in her and she mostly in him. She didn’t want to mention she wasn’t pregnant, that way she didn’t have to think of that night. But that night’s memory had started to fade a bit. Hermione remembered the pain as he thrust himself inside her, but that was the drunken Harry not the brave Harry who was writing to her. Wasn’t it?

A week later she finally got another letter in the bottle,

Dear Hermione,
I hope this letter finds you are safe. A few nights ago the Deatheaters found our camp and attacked. We repaired our tent, which was set on fire, but our food is almost all cursed to poison us or has maggots and our clothes were also lost and some of the men have been injured and our medical person was killed in the attack. There are only thirty-five men left out of fifty. The Deatheaters have pinned us up against a cliff and there is not way out except down to the river below which is why I can write to you but I fear I will not get your letters. It doesn’t look good. I wanted to ask you if you were like Hanna, expecting? Am I going to be a father? I was trying to think of a reason why you wouldn’t tell me, perhaps you’re not pregnant or you are and you don’t want the child or you are scared to tell me for some reason. I would take responsibility for it if we make it out of here alive. But I have been wondering for days. But right now it doesn’t matter as long as you are safe.
Your Harry

Harry was wondering and he wanted to know. Hermione felt awful. What made it worse was they were in trouble with very little food and no clothes and no aid to help the wounded and he was thinking of her. She wondered if there was anything she could do, but what? She didn’t know where they were and wandering around in the woods on a top of mountain didn’t seem like a logical idea.

Hermione tossed and turned all of the night until she came up with an idea that would work. She saw a map in her head and looked for the mountain, looked for a river flowing toward her town and look, there were cliffs.

By morning she had a splitting headache but she had an idea where Harry and his army might be. Hermione made breakfast and cleared the dishes as fast as she could. She went to Mr. Fudge’s study and started looking at maps of the mountain. She found a river that flowed toward their town and saw two cliffs that looked like areas that might be where Harry was located very close to each other.

Now, what to bring to them and how to get it there was the question. Food, drink, blankets and field aid kit with potions and bandages. And how was she to get it there?
Wagon? And what about the Deatheaters, they could get her so easily?
She thought of an invisibility spell but going through the woods she would still make noise and be moving the brush, leaves and low branches. She also didn’t want to be wandering for days.

And the Deatheaters weren’t the only things in the mountain forest: wild animals unfriendly giants, trolls, Centaur and werewolves. They to could harm or kill her.

Hermione went to the river and for three days, nothing.

Was Harry still alive? She felt restless at night and had to take a sleeping draft because she could think straight anymore.
Then on the fourth day there were five bottles, two for Hanna and three for Hermione.

Hermione ran back to the Inn to deliver the messages to Hanna.

Hanna opened her message and had a grim look on her face. Hermione grabbed the letter from her.

Hanna my dearest love,
I’m writing to you to tell you that all is not good at this time. We have little to no supplies and smaller spirits as the weather beats us and the Deatheaters are just out of sight for now but they lurk in the shadows and attack us from time to time like a cat playing with a mouse.
I fear I might never see you again and I want to tell you that I love you and think of you often in my waking hours and dream of you at night. I wish to come home to you and our child. But know that I love you and I still think you should go to Grams. She will help you with anything you need. I love you forever. Neville

Hermione put her arms around Hanna and said,
“We will figure something out. I will find a way to help …I have to.”
Hanna just sat and cried. Mrs. Figg put her arm around her to comfort her.

Hermione looked at the three bottles Harry sent her and her hands started to shake as he reached for them. Her heart was pumping so hard. She went to the bar first and poured herself a shot of brandy and went outside to be alone.

Hermione sat on the fallen tree looking at the distant mountain.
She drank some of the drink down and winced at the taste and the burning sensation going down her throat but it warmed her against the cold wind.

She opened the first bottle.

Dear Hermione,

I hope you are well and safe. I’m writing to ask you that I need you to send this letter to my godfather Sirius Black, he lives in London, and it tells him that we are in a very bad way and I don’t think we will survive but a few more days.

I wanted to thank you for all the letters you have written to me over the months. I knew we were not going to see each again but I have your face in my mind and I find it comforting to me as the weather gets unbearably cold at night. But now I wish to see it in the flesh just one more time and to thank you for being my friend and counselor. It’s so cold at night and with the Deatheater’s attack maiming one or two of us a night, it’s torture.
Fare well my lovely Hermione. Your Harry


She opened the next letter.

Dear Hermione,
I saw your face last night in a wonderful dream. And I remembered I kissed you.
Your lips are like fruit for the Gods, a sweet juice, delicious nectar on which birds and bees love equal to their golden honey. And I have been fortunate to taste their splendor when I stole your lips one night. Your lips put to shame the color, softness and sweetness of roses. They envy you your beauty as you are without thorns to protect yourself from man, which makes you more enticing.

Your eyes are rich chestnut brown, sweet chocolate and the dark driftwood with the sea water that flows with your tears with the emotion that is as strong as the ocean itself, as gentle as a wave gently caressing the shore or as powerful and passionate enough to forgive a strange night that brought us together.

Your hair, like your eyes, brunette silky tresses with a hint of gold here and there and that smell of lavender and vanilla as does your soft smooth skin.

Your voice a warm tone that the comforts the troubled and welcomes a lost soul to your sanctuary.
How I long to hear your voice welcome me home, but there will be none I think, just the cold darkness that surrounds me with the smell of death coming closer.
Though I held you for only a moment in time it has kept me going until this end.
I shall cherish you forever, Hermione
yours truly, Harry

Hermione’s eyes were warm with tears. Her hand shook as she looked at his handwriting - it was shaking, as though he was cold.
She laughed as she looked at his description of her eyes, hair, skin and voice. He remembered what she smelled like. And she thought ‘some one is looking over his shoulder and Harry is just writing a love letter to someone else and sending it to her.
A fake love letter to keep the false engagement looking good. Just like all the other soldiers in his outfit writing to their sweethearts. Just like the letter Hanna has been getting from Neville. ’
But that didn’t matter right now. They needed help.

She looked at the mountain that looked so far away and peaceful.
Hermione saw a squirrel run up the side of the tree and disappear in a hole and reappear with a nut in its mouth, nibbling at it for a moment and then running down the tree and onto the road and through some bushes.

Hermione looked into the hole and found a few nuts that the squirrel stored there.

She looked at the letter again and wondered if they had surrender? NO.
There was no surrender to Deatheaters only dying or becoming one of them.

Hermione took the rest of the brandy and open the last message.

Seeing the very shaky handwriting she read,

Dearest Hermione,

I hate to confess this but last night I fell asleep at my post.
I dreamt of you. You were smiling at me and I felt so warm and cared for as I stood in front of you. Suddenly you had a terrible look on your face, that hurt my heart but then you pointed behind me and shouted my name and it started me out of my slumber.
I woke up in time to see the Deatheaters sneaking up on us. If it weren’t for you I’d be dead now. Thank you Hermione. Even from where you are, you are watching over me and I am grateful. You are my guardian angel. Love always, Harry

The helplessness grabbed Hermione’s soul. She had to come up with something. She had to find some way of getting to them.
The young witch went back inside the Inn as the wind whipped her hair about her face. The wind stung her face.

She went into the bar where Mr. Fudge was talking to a gentleman named Mr. Moody, a customer, a sturdy man, who came to the Inn a few times a month. When he went hunting in the woods, roughly dressed, nursing glass of cognac cupped in his hand. He had one magical eye that looked about the room. They were laughing about something as he bought a bottle of brandy. Mr. Fudge asked,
“Will you have it in your room or do you want to take it with you?”

“Oh I’m taking it with me. It’s freezing out tonight and I have my walk I like to go on<,>” and he put down his glass and picked up his cane and popped off the handle. He then proceeded in poured the brandy into the hollow cane.

Hermione got a glass of wine, went to the kitchen and got a slice of bread with cheese and then came back to the bar and asked,
“Mr. Fudge may I use your study to look something up?”

“Yes, you can just put out the lights when you are done,” he answered.

He had a great many books on the area, its history, its forest plants and its wildlife and its inhabitants. The most dangerous thing at the present was not in the book: Deatheaters; wizards that had gone bad.
The giants could be nasty if you got in their way, pound you into the ground as a troll would if you let them catch you. As for the centaurs if they didn’t like the look of you even before you saw them you might have an arrow shot into your heart.

Hermione looked at all the things she would be up against in the woods and on the mountain. She thought of asking one of the men in the town to come with her but they were either too old or too young as the others were now fighting.

She heard that a troll could be trained to do small chores, but that would take weeks or even months. And then it struck her, she could turn herself into a mountain troll. No one would bother her and she would have the strength to carry the supplies needed.

She looked through spell book after spell book and found nothing, no spell to turn her into a troll. So she looked through potion books and finally found a potion that could turn her into a mountain troll for a day, if ingested a few times during the day.

It wasn’t a hard potion, Greater Celandine; skin of a toad, onion juice and milkweed juice, and it had to brew overnight and will keep for a long time.

Now that Hermione knew how she was going transport the supplies there, she had to start gather them. Food, drink, blankets and field aid set.

Food, what was she going to feed them? Some kind of soup to warm and nourish their body and souls.
Hermione went to the herb shop and got the ingredients for the potion first.

It only took her a few moments to get to the herb shop and start brewing the potion.

Hermione then started to think of what to cook. She couldn’t take much from the Inn - that would be stealing - and she didn’t have much money saved so she had to think of something.

Beef was too expensive for her, she could get chicken but she would need at least three for a good broth stock for a hardy soup. She would rather have it fresh and a lot of it.

Hermione grabbed her coat and told Mrs. Figg she was going out for a walk and wouldn’t be long.

She walked to the Butcher’s shop; it was closed, so she pushed her face next to the glass window. Her wand in her hand lit the window so she could see. Squashing her nose, she looked at the cuts of meat that hung in the window.
She saw a pig in the window. She could get some of that and still have some money left over, but not much.

Hermione started to walk without thinking where she was going. She was thinking what would be good made with pig; she could make sausages or pies.

She found herself in the woods heading toward the river. Hermione looked on the riverbank again, her wand lighting the way, just to see if there were any more bottles. When she hadn’t found any she had the feeling there weren’t going to be anymore. She looked toward the dark mountain and just saw the blackness. It was so cold, so dark, and so far away at that moment she just wanted to shout out to Harry. But the words were stifled in her throat. So she raised her hand with wand and crooked out “Prericulume,” and a red spark shot out of her wand reaching high in the sky and arcing as through she willed it to touch the mountain top, but it faded from her view in the night sky.

Hermione was slowly walking back to the Inn when she came up on some deer: three large ones and two smaller standing still and one was laying on the ground with an arrow in its side. It was in pain and the wound looked fresh. She stepped toward it and the others ran away. It had lost a lot of blood and was in agony.
Hermione pulled out the arrow, but didn’t know the arrow had struck a major vein. The deer kicked its legs for a moment than it was still.

Hermione hadn’t killed anything like this before. She stunned a mouse and then put it in the woods.

The poor thing, Hermione thought and then she thought again. Venison stew.

Hermione took out her wand and levitated the animal back to the Inn.

She tied rope around the animal’s hind legs to a tree and drained the blood out of it and into a large bucket, which took a few hours.


It was late now and Mrs. Figg was waiting for Hermione so she could lock the door for the night.
Hermione knew didn’t know how to skin and cut the deer so she dashed to the butchers and left a note on the butcher’s door asking for his help.

She got out the biggest cauldron the Inn had. Mrs. Figg insisted Hermione go to bed and that in the morning she would help Hermione.

Hermione was exhausted, but feeling satisfied eased her mind. She let herself fall to sleep knowing she would need all of her strength in the morning.

Hermione got up and fixed breakfast for the patrons. The butcher came over and looked at the deer. The meat-man made a deal with her, he could have parts of the deer for exchange for skinning and cutting it. Hermione accepted the deal and an hour later Hermione had her meat sizzling a pan in with a few pieces of bacon, herbs that were sure to make the meat melt in your mouth, and red wine and then put that into a large cauldron followed by beef stock carrots and potatoes. Letting it slowly cook.

She made a dozen loaves of bread.

Hermione was exhausted and went outside to think. She still had to figure out how to get the food there. She looked at the wagon from the Inn. It was old but she was sure it could make it up the mountain, or at least she hoped, and she had to ask permission for it. Not to mention it would look a little odd for a troll to be pulling a wagon. Trolls dragged clubs around with them.

The sun was low and the air was still cold. Hermione watched the squirrels run from one tree to another. One squirrel went into a hole in the large fallen tree in front of the Inn.

Then the idea emerged in her mind - not wagon, but club - as she looked at the fallen tree. She could hollow out the tree and put the cauldron in the one of the holes along with the bread, blankets, field kit and anything else she could think of.

Hermione took her wand and carefully cut into the bark and then hollowed out a space for the cauldron, a place for the bread and field kit with the blankets. The Inn had plenty of old blankets, soft and in very good shape, just a snag here or faded there. She cut piece of wood to act as a lid to secure and then went to find the supplies she was stowing in the tree.

She thought of other things: cheese, tea and dry oatmeal for porridge so they could make it fresh in the morning if anyone was up to it.

Hermione was making her way to the cheese shop when she bumped into Melinda and Ginny. They walked in to the cheese shop.

“Well, Hermione how is your soldier?” she whispered.
“Harry and the his army are in trouble. They are trapped on the cliff side and have no food, no healer and they had their tent damaged in an attack.”

“Heavens name. What are they going to do?” Melinda posed.
She turned to the shopkeeper and asked for a pound of hard cheese and a small box of butter.

Ginny smiled at the keeper as he winked and whispered something to her.
She turned back to Hermione.

The shopkeeper grinned at the three ladies as he cut the cheese and got a small box of butter for them.

“I’m going up to look for them and bring them some food, blankets and a field kit.”

“Hermione? How on earth are you going to do that? There are dangers in the woods and on the mountain.”

“I’m disguising myself as a troll. Nothing is going to bother me.”

“But my dear, how are you going to carry the food, blankets…”

“I hollowed out that old fallen tree in front of the Inn. I’ll carry it as clubs but have the things stored inside of it.”

Melinda smiled, “Clever girl,” she sighed and continued, “ Well we’ll just have to add to your collection of things to bring to our favorite men in arms. Come by the place and we’ll see what we can dig up for you.”

Melinda and Ginny got their orders, paid for them and said a ‘thank you’ to the keeper. As they went out the door Melinda said,
“We’ll be waiting for you in the parlor.”

The Cheese shopkeeper gave Hermione a strange look and asked,
“You’re not keeping company with that lot are you?”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked.

“Going over there to talk and socialize with them, the little whores,” he snapped.

Hermione felt a bubbling rage inside because he was smiling staring and flirting with the Ginny just a few moments ago.

“I’ll have a half wheel of one hard and one soft cheese and a box of butter. And I’ll have you know those girls are very nice, very intelligent …” but she noticed the man wasn’t listening to her about the girls.

“So you’re going to try to help the fighting men. Don’t you think it’s a bit dangerous for you go up in the mountain? You’ll be dead before you reach them with your baskets of goodies.”

“Well at least I’m doing something,” she retorted.

He shrugged his shoulders with as grunt as he packaged her order up. She paid for it.
Holding onto the string loops that held her order together and walked out of the shop into the cool air.

Hermione made her way towards the Merry Mistress Inn, on the now crowded street, and without thinking about it walked up the stairs to the front door and into their parlor.

Melinda was just setting down a tray of tea and biscuits.

“Hermione, great timing. We were just talking about the supplies. We have a few bottle of High Spirits wine; it’s a good year, guaranteed to lift their spirits without getting them drunk and forgetful. We have a few blankets and a few capes and robes.”

Hermione was overwhelmed. “Thank you!”

“Now my dear have you tried your potion yet?”

“Em, no.”

“Well I always find it wise to do a dress rehearsal just to avoid any snags that might come up.” Melinda said, “Word is out that you are going up in to the mountains. That Mrs. Figg has been telling the Inn’s patrons. So many are just sitting back and assuming the boys are doomed, and they don’t have much faith in you my friend which means if you don’t succeed they will mostly die.”

A cold chill went through Hermione.

“Trolls are very stupid creatures but you have a great mind. You’re going to be, I think, a smart troll but I want to make sure. I think you should take a bit of potion and see how well your mind works.”


~ ~ ~

A few minutes later Hermione found herself in the back of the Ministers Inn where the chickens and pigs were kept. She dipped a spoon into the concoction, sipping a small amount of the potion.

Nothing happened for a minute as she looked at the women from the Mistress’s Inn.
And then she felt a tingling sensation; suddenly the ground was falling away from her or was she going up? Hermione’s head hit the branches of the trees and she looked down at the roof of the Inn.

The girls were shouting at Hermione and she had to listen very carefully and concentrate on what they were saying. She also notice that she was naked as her clothes had ripped at the seams.

Melinda asked her how she was feeling and to say hello.

Hermione tried to speak but troll’s vocal cords are not the same as humans and so all that came out of the mouth were grunts and groans.

Hermione picked up the wagon and looked at it. It normally is very heavy but in her troll hands it was light and it felt fragile.

Hermione walked in the front of the Inn and looked at the tree and marked how long she thought it should be.

Hermione heard her friends behind her and turned. She suddenly felt strange and she felt herself shrink down to her normal size.

The cold hit Hermione body with a great shudder and she fell to the ground. Melinda took off her cloak and wrapped it around Hermione,
“Good thing about dress rehearsals, you can fix the dress.” She took out her wand and repaired Hermione’s dress.

“Trolls wear raggedy clothes,” Hermione said aloud, looking at her clothes in her hands.

“Well I’m sure you can find rags to wear.”

Hermione went into her room in the attic and found a worn out shirt and skirt and battered shoes and changed.

She came back down to the girls. Mrs. Figg came out to see what Hermione was doing. Several other patrons followed Mrs. Figg with expressions of doom on their faces.

“Hermione, are you sure you know what you are doing?” Mrs. Figg asked.

“Yes, I know what I’m doing. I’m risking my life to see if I can save a few men from starving to death who might be hurt or even dead by now. But I have to try. They have been keeping us safe for months and all we ever do is maybe buy them drinks … pat them on their backs. They are out there. I’ll find them.”

The onlookers laughed at her, “Silly chit. She’s going to get herself lost and probably killed.”

Melinda shook her head at the men. She looked at Hermione and said,
“Is the food and other thing ready?”

“Yes.”

“All right, it’s not noon yet. Is the club ready to be fill with the supplies.”

Hermione nodded.

Melinda pointed her wand at Hermione and said aloud,
“Fabrication Correctise.”

“What was that for?” Hermione asked.

“To have your clothes change size as you do,” Melinda told her.

“That reminds me. I had better get the potion into a few bottles.”

Hermione went into the kitchen and got a few bottles out of the storage shelf and a ladle.
The women huddled around Hermione as she poured the potion into the containers.

“How long does it last?” Melinda asked.

“It looks disgusting, what does it taste like?”

“It smells like dirty laundry.”

“GIRLS?” Melinda said a little louder to stop their comments.

“It lasts a few hours with each sip,” Hermione told her.

“It might take you a few hours to get to the mountain and then one or two more to find their camp. Trolls are stupid but I think they have good hearing. Listen from time to time for the boys.”

“I’m going to follow the river. That should lead me right to them.”

“Smart girl.” Melinda remarked, looking at the men who had loitering around to see the slip of a girl track down the Harry’s army.

“Thank you for all your help,” Hermione said.

“Well you’re the only one doing anything, and we do like to help out when we can.”
Melinda said as she looked at the mountain and said quietly,
“ They are too young to die. They haven’t even lived yet. Loved yet.” with the sound of regret in her voice.

“Do you know any of them?”

“I have known all them… in one way or another,” and she pulled out a handful of letters with different names and from different places.

“Now you know where you are going?”

“I’m following the river to the cliff and I’ll listen carefully for the army,”

“And the other army out there too, Deatheaters, they most likely will be in their black robes and masks.”

“How will you find you’re way back here?” Cho asked with concern.

“Follow the river back down, I guess.”

“It may trail off though so we will light a fire for you. You can see the smoke from a distance in the day and the glow of it at night,” Melinda explained.

“Great idea,” Hermione said as she levitated the cauldron of venison stew out of the kitchen and outside into the hollowed tree along with the blankets, robes and cloaks, the High Spirits and field aid kit. She cast a spell to keep the lid on the cauldron so it would not spill when she dragged it on the ground or over her shoulder.

Mrs. Figg gasped and picked something off the ground and shouted to Hermione,
“Hermione, your ring?” running over to Hermione.
When she turned into the troll it too had broken away along with the rest of her clothes

“Thank you, Mrs. Figg,” and she slipped it into a deep pocket.

Hermione put all the bottles of potion into her pockets, but one.
She opened that one up and Hermione took a large gulp of the potion.

About fifty seconds passed as Hermione counted out to herself and then she felt the potion taking effort. She once more grew tall into the path of the tree branches but kept her head down.

Her head was at the same level as a one of the big windows in the Inn and Hermione saw her reflection in the glass. She let out a gasp.

She had a large eggplant shaped nose. Two tiny beady eyes and a mouth that looked like it should be on a cow. Her face had a young man’s soft fuzz hairiness to it, moles and skin tags were scattered on her face and body and her skin color had a grey tone to it.

She was ugly and her small eyes started to water.

It was Melinda who got her attention and Hermione forgot her reflection and picked up her club.

With a clumsy hand she waved them good-bye and headed for the river, dragging the club behind her.


Thank you ginnylovesharry, Rayne, Sayfray, Elena, robin, Anon and Vandroza for your reviews, they really help.