With The First Ray Of Light

Hermione Apparated to number twelve, Grimmauld Place alone. The plan had been for her and Caleb to go together, but she had received an owl from him a few minutes earlier telling her he would be late, and that he would meet her there.

She hesitated by the doorway, hating the idea of going inside on her own. She hadn’t seen most of the people she knew would be there in years, and she wasn’t looking forward to meeting most of them again.

With a deep breath she steeled herself and lifted her arm, knocking on the door before she had time to change her mind again. What was she so worried about, after all? She was a Gryffindor, she wouldn’t be afraid of seeing her old friends again.

A few seconds passed, and she knocked on the door a little harder. They probably hadn’t heard her the first time. She pushed her hands into her pockets to stop herself from fidgeting as she waited. She would just go in, tell them what had happened, and then leave as soon as possible. That was the plan; that was a good plan. She just wished Caleb was there by her side while she told the Order of the Phoenix, or what was left of it, about the memories she had been sent.

The tapping of her foot against the cement marked the seconds as she waited, and just as she slipped her hand out of her pocket to knock a third time the door swung open, and her eyes met Harry. She stood frozen in place as she tried to decide what to say or do, and noticed his smile falter when he saw her, but then he quickly schooled his expression. There was no hiding the coldness in his eyes, though.

“Hermione.”

“Hello.”

“You’re late,” Harry said, then stepped aside to let her in before closing the door without another word.

This was the first time she had seen Harry in almost three years, unless she counted that one time she’d seen him at one of the Ministry’s parties, but then he had just nodded in acknowledgement when their eyes had met across the room and continued on with his conversation.

Not wanting to wait for Harry to guide her inside and risk more awkward or brusque moments than were necessary, she followed the sounds of voices down the hallway, noticing Mrs. Black’s portrait had finally been removed from the wall, and then stepped into the drawing room.

“Hermione!” she heard someone call from inside the room, and a second later all conversation seemed to stop as most of the people in the room turned to her. She forced a small smile to her lips as she wondered what would happen now, and was glad when some of the people quickly stepped forward to greet her with broad smiles and open arms. It was nice to know some of them still liked her.

She smiled a little more as she talked to former Hogwarts teachers and classmates, and people she had gotten to know quite well during the war. They asked questions about her, and she tried her best to avoid answering without outright lying, asking about them in turn to move the conversation to more comfortable topics. If they didn’t already know why they rarely got to see her any more, she wasn’t about to explain it.

Her gaze travelled around the room as she exchanged polite comments with one person or another, and soon her eyes met Harry’s across the room. He was sitting in a far corner, talking to Ron, and they both looked away when they saw her watching them.

Right after the end of the war, when things had gotten really bad between her and Harry, Ron had quickly sided with him. She shouldn’t have been surprised, he had done that more than enough times during their years at Hogwarts, but still it had hurt to lose her two best friends after everything else she’d lost. But they hadn’t understood, Harry hadn’t understood, and perhaps pushing her away had been his way of dealing with everything that had happened.

Harry had simply forced her out of his life, and she had let him, because seeing him and Ron and everyone else reminded her of everything she had lost, and it broke her heart all over again, every single time. Yet now she was here again, with what was left of the once powerful Order of the Phoenix, ready to bring those painful memories back to every one of them.

“Now don’t you look smashing,” someone said from behind her, taking her hand and twirling her around to face a pair of identical smirks.

“Hi boys,” she said, with a small smile, knowing them making her turn around had been no accident; they had obviously seen her watching Ron and Harry and had decided to interfere.

“Haven’t seen you in a while, Mione,” George said.

“Haven’t stopped by the shop in ages,” Fred added.

She tried for her best stubborn look as she frowned at them, “First, don’t call me that, my name is Hermione,” she said, only making their smiles broaden, “and second, I was there less than a month ago, if I remember correctly.”

“Which constitutes a long time,” said Fred. “We’ve been trying to contact you for a few days now.”

“We’d decided to simply show up at your apartment when we heard about the meeting, and that you’d be here.

“Why were you trying to contact me?”

The looks of innocence they were trying to pull off made her frown even more. “Now don’t look so suspicious,” George quickly said. “We just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“And maybe hire your services as well,” Fred added, when she arched her eyebrow in disbelief.

“Hire my services?” she repeated, taking a quick look around to check no one was paying attention to them and then casting a quick Muffliato Charm just to be sure. “I will not get any more illegal objects or potions ingredients for the two of you. Whatever you make with them, you cannot sell it, and if someone finds out you will both end up in Azkaban.”

“Cannot sell, she says,” George said, turning to his twin.

“Must be daft, poor girl.”

“Must be,” George replied, casting her a sad look. “Last product we created using your ingredients sold out a day before we began advertising it.”

“You advertised a product that used Chimaera eggs?”

Fred laughed at her shocked expression as George said, “We weren’t about to put it on the Daily Prophet, Hermione, we advertise that sort of product only to some of our most select clientele.”

“Whom we believe will be extremely interested in our newest idea for a product.”

“I think I’m afraid to ask.”

Leaning forward, George whispered into her ear, “We need Manticores. Three or four of them.”

“Manticores? What could you possibly want with Manticores?”

“Why, quite a few things, in fact,” Fred said. “Which we are more than willing to share with you, but perhaps in a more private location.”

“Can you get them for us?”

“I…of course I can get them, I’m simply not sure I should.”

“Now, Mione,” George said, hugging her closer with one arm, “there’s no need to worry. We know what we’re doing.”

“That is precisely my concern,” she said, watching them smile and shake their heads.

“So, when can we have them?”

“I didn’t say I’d get them,” she said, but they just smiled at that. Shaking her head she sighed and said, “It will be tricky, Manticores are hard to find, and even harder to smuggle into the country. It’s going to take a little longer than the eggs.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know,” she said, mentally going through the list of contacts that could be useful. “I can probably have them in two days, three at most.”

“Knew we could count on you,” George said, kissing her forehead.

“Might want to let go now, brother dear, her knight’s on his way,” Fred said with a smirk, and she followed his gaze to the door, where Caleb was standing. She quickly looked back at Fred with a glare, but he just winked at her and whispered, “Worry not, Mione, it’ll be our little secret,” before pulling his brother after him.

Caleb was already making his way towards her, his usual smile on his lips as he was greeted by the Order members he walked by. “Sorry I couldn’t make it any sooner, last minute meeting with the…What’s wrong?”

“Huh?”

“What’s going on?” he asked again, and she forced herself to turn away from the twins and look up at him.

“Fred and George know.”

“Know what?” he asked, frowning as he followed her gaze. “Oh,” he muttered, when Fred looked back at them and wiggled his eyebrows. “How did they-”

“I don’t know,” she said with a sigh.

Looking around the room, he asked, “Do you think they’ve told anyone else?”

“I don’t think so. They told me they wouldn’t say anything.”

“Well, it took them years to figure it out; they’re not as smart as they think. Want me to talk to them, make sure they’ll keep it to themselves? I could probably threaten them with something scary,” he said, but she could tell from the teasing tone of his voice that he wasn’t in the least worried. It was only because of her own wishes that their relationship was kept a secret, after all.

Unable to hold back a small smile she asked, “You think they’re more afraid of you than they are of me?”

“You’re right; you’re far scarier than the Minister for Magic.”

“Of course, I am,” she said, grinning, then grew serious again as she turned to him. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I know this is hard for you, and I wanted to come with you, but I got called at the last minute and-”

“It’s all right,” she whispered. “You’re here now.”

She wanted to reach for him, to hug him and feel his arms around her, making her forget her worries for a little while, making her feel safe, but she knew she couldn’t, not in public. He was the Minister for Magic and she…well, she was more than just a war heroine.

“Miss Granger,” someone’s voice distracted her, and she turned around to see McGonagall. “I believe everyone is here now.”


It took her a moment to realise what she meant, and then she turned to Caleb, silently wishing for a way out she knew she wouldn’t take if offered. She had to do this; they had a right to know. She just wished it didn’t have to be her explaining it all.

“All right, let’s do this,” she whispered to herself as McGonagall asked everyone to sit down.

It took a few minutes to get everyone settled, and she and Caleb slowly made their way to the front of the room, as the last whispers died away.

“Are you sure you want to tell them yourself?” Caleb asked from beside her, his voice low enough that she was sure no one else would hear him.

With a weak smile and a small nod, she turned to face the Order of the Phoenix again. "Well, I..." she started nervously, after a few seconds of silence, her gaze travelling around the room, noticing every single person in there was looking at her expectantly. With a deep breath, she forced herself to speak. “I think it will be best if I go straight to the heart of the matter," she finally said, speaking fast, needing to get it all out so it would be over sooner. "The reason we organised this meeting is because I have been contacted by a group of former Death Eaters."

"Impossible," someone whispered from the small crowd. "It can't be true," someone else said. Every comment and whisper seemed to circle over the same line of thought, and they hadn't even heard the important part yet.

"A message was sent to me two days ago," she continued, the hushed whispered quickly dying away, "and was asked to contact one of the Death Eaters currently in Azkaban."

"I thought almost every Death Eater was there by now," someone said from the back of the room.

"So did we all, but it would seem that’s not the case."

"What did the message say?"

Taking another deep breath, she closed her eyes for a second, trying to push from her mind the memories of what she had seen in the Pensieve. "From what I gathered, both from the messages and the meeting with the Lucius Malfoy, the group of Death Eaters still at large have prisoners."

There were a few comments on finding out Lucius Malfoy was involved, but it was the thought of them having prisoners that seemed to have surprised them the most.

"Who?" Tonks asked from a chair nearby. Her voice was soft as she spoke, and Hermione could imagine what was going on through the witch's mind.

"I don't know," she replied, truthfully.

"Why would they contact you? And why now?" Harry asked.

"I'm not sure. I think the reason they contacted me was simply to prove they could. I'm not easy to find. It'd probably be easier for them to contact you than me; I think they wanted to show they had the power, or the information, needed. As for the timing, I have no idea."

"What do they want? I'm sure there must be a reason behind all this."

"As I said before, the Minister and I went to see Lucius Malfoy in Azkaban. He seems to be acting as a liaison in this matter. He assured us the group has prisoners from the Order, witches and wizards captured ever since the beginning of the war."

"Death Eaters were never known for taking prisoners," one of the Aurors sitting in the front row said. "They always went for the kill. It's hard to imagine them keeping Order members alive for this many years. How do we know they are even telling the truth?"

"The first message they sent me contained memories of the witches and wizards being captured through the years," she said, trying hard to keep her voice neutral and only tell the Order what they needed to know. "The second message contained memories of them dated only a few weeks ago. They were still alive."

"Can we see those messages?" someone else asked, a voice she didn't recognise.

"I'm afraid that is impossible," Caleb said from beside her. "The memories were charmed to be destroyed after being viewed once," he lied. They had decided the rest of the Order didn't need to see the memories; they probably had enough nightmare-inducing memories of their own. "I only saw the second set of memories because Miss Granger was with me in my office when it was delivered."

"They were delivered to your office at the Ministry?"

He nodded and continued. "We spoke to Lucius Malfoy that night. He told us the prisoners were indeed alive, and that they intended to exchange them for the Death Eaters currently in Azkaban."

From the outraged and surprised murmurs that broke throughout the room she decided it had indeed been a good idea not to tell them the other term of the agreement; not unless it was necessary.

"They cannot be serious," Ron finally said, loud enough to quieten the other voices as everyone in the room turned back to her and Caleb.

"I'm afraid they are."

"Well, if they still have prisoners, then I’m sure we can find a way to track them down on our own."

"Unfortunately, we do not have enough time for that," Caleb said. "They gave us a deadline. We have until next Thursday to decide, exactly ten days from the moment the first message was delivered, and then all the prisoners will be killed."

“You cannot seriously consider freeing all the Death Eaters,” yelled Anthony Goldstein, outraged.

“Not considering?!” came another voice. “It’s our families we’re talking about. After what they have probably been through…” the voice faltered for a few seconds. “We cannot just leave them on their own to be killed in Merlin knows what horrible manner without even considering it!”

“And many others have died to ensure those Death Eaters were sent to Azkaban, where they belong! Don’t make it sound as if it’s an easy choice because it’s not!” Parvati said. Her sister had been one of the Order members killed while going after rogue Death Eaters.

“We’re not considering anything yet,” Hermione quickly replied, trying to appease them as best she could, considering the subject. “We are simply relaying the facts. We felt it was only fair that the Order knew what was happening before any decision was made.”

“Does this have anything to do with what’s been happening to Order members lately, Minister?”

Caleb turned to her for a second, as if not sure how much he should say. Hermione got on her tiptoes, trying to see who was talking before replying, “We don’t know yet, Mister Diggle, but Malfoy said nothing to make us believe he could be involved.”

“It can’t be pure coincidence.”

“Perhaps, but we cannot be certain of anything yet.”

“We will have another meeting in two days, by which time we will discuss this more thoroughly,” Caleb said. “All of us need some time to process this information before we can make any decision. Remember you are still bound by the laws of the Order. Everything said here can only be discussed with other fellow members.”

She looked at the people sitting before them, seeing confusion, anger and sorrow cross their expressions as they tried to take in what she and Caleb had just told them. Most of them were standing again, small groups forming throughout the room as they spoke in hushed voices. She really wished they hadn’t involved them in all this, but Caleb had been right, the decision concerned them, too.

“We should probably find somewhere more private to talk to Potter,” Caleb said, waiting for her to nod in agreement before making his way to the back of the room.

She stayed a few steps behind as Caleb reached Harry and started talking to him. She noticed Harry’s gaze dart to her for a moment, but he didn’t say anything. After a few seconds, he nodded and walked out of the room, followed closely by the two of them.

“We can talk here,” Harry said, as he stepped inside one of the small studies near the kitchen.

Trying to hide her discomfort, she stepped inside the room and turned to close the door when she noticed Ginny walking towards her. She waited until the witch reached her before saying, “We need to speak to Harry in private.”

“She’s my wife,” Harry said coldly from behind her. “Whatever you need to tell me you can say it in front of her.”

She glanced at Caleb, who nodded, and then stepped to the side, letting the witch through.

“Thank you,” Ginny said with a small smile, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.

“You’re welcome.”

“It’s good to see you again,” the witch whispered.

“Thanks. I read about the wedding in the papers last year, congratulations,” she said as she walked closer to Caleb.

She saw Ginny blush slightly as she thanked her, and knew she felt guilty for not inviting her, but the truth was she had been glad they hadn’t. Ginny hadn’t sided with Harry the way Ron had after the war, but still they had grown apart with time due to her relationship with Harry, and by not inviting her to the wedding she had saved Hermione the trouble of coming up with an excuse not to go.

“So, what is it that you needed to tell me that you couldn’t say out there?” Harry asked, reaching for Ginny’s hand. She noticed he was trying to avoid looking at her, but she was past caring.

“It’s about Malfoy’s terms for the prisoners’ exchange.”

“What about them?”

“The Death Eaters are not all that his group wants.”

“What else are they asking for?” Ginny said with a worried frown, as she leaned closer to Harry.

“They want Harry, too,” Hermione said.

“What do you mean they want him?”

“Malfoy said they were willing to give us their prisoners if we gave them the Death Eaters in Azkaban and Potter,” Caleb explained.

It took Ginny a moment to get over the shock. “What could they want with him?”

“We don’t know.”

“Well, this is ridiculous! They can’t-”

Just then the door opened, and Ron peered inside. “Harry, mate, I’ve been looking all over for you,” he said, clearly not noticing she and Caleb were in the room.

“Not now, Ronald,” Ginny said. Harry hadn’t even turned around to look at him. In fact, he hadn’t moved at all since hearing the Death Eaters wanted him, too.

“What’s going-" he started, but then his gaze went from Harry to her, and he frowned as he stepped inside. “What did you do to him?”

“Ronald!” Ginny gasped, but he didn’t seem to hear her.

“Harry, mate, are you all right?” he asked, stepping closer to him. Harry turned to look at him now, but still didn’t say anything. He seemed lost in thought, trying to make sense of what she and Caleb had just told him. “What did you do?”

“What did I do?” Hermione asked, feeling her anger rise. “Of course, if something is wrong then it must be my fault, right?”

“Save me the- "

“Can we please get back to the point?” Caleb interrupted briskly before Ron had time to say anything else. Perhaps he had noticed she was unconsciously inching her hand closer to her wand. “Those are the terms of the arrangement, Potter. We don’t know why, but that is what Malfoy told us.”

“I-" Harry said, then hesitated, and she saw him tighten his hold on Ginny’s hand. He took a deep breath before speaking. “What am I supposed to say to that?”

She tried her best to keep her tone calm as she spoke again. “We know this isn’t easy, and no one expects you to make any decision yet, but you had to know. You need to know what is at stake here.”

“What’s going on? What are you all talking about?” Ron asked, but everyone ignored him.

“Did he say anything else?” Harry asked.

“No,” Caleb told him. “Malfoy refused to explain the demands any further. He said all we needed to know was what they wanted, and what would happen if we didn’t agree to it.”

“I won’t play along, not unless I know what it is they’re planning. I want to talk to him.”

“I’m not sure that would be a good idea,” Caleb said. “We have to think of your security, now that we know the Death Eaters want you. They could just be waiting for an opportunity to attack you themselves.”

“The Death Eaters what?” Ron said indignantly, but they continued to ignore him.

“I don’t care; I can take care of myself. I don’t need anyone looking after me. Can you arrange a meeting, Minister, or do I have to contact the prison myself?”

“This is not the time to be reckless, Potter.”

“We will make the arrangements,” Hermione said, knowing arguing would take them nowhere. It was obvious Harry had made up his mind, and she knew Caleb’s tone. She had to stop this discussion before it escalated into a fight. Caleb turned to her, obviously not happy with her agreeing with Harry, but he didn’t say anything.

“How long will that take?”

“I will contact the prison in the morning to schedule the visit.”

“Very well,” Harry said. “Is that all?” When they nodded, he said, “I’ll contact you in the morning, then,” and all but dragged Ginny out of the room with him.

She waited until the room was empty to reach for Caleb, and pull him closer, letting him tilt her head up and kiss her softly. It was over at last. They’d said what needed to be said, and now they could finally leave. They’d go get some dinner somewhere, and then to her place, or Caleb’s for the night. It didn’t matter where, really; she only wanted to get away from that place, away from the people she had once called friends.