Resilience
- Chapter 1: Unpleasant Incident -
If you prick us do we not bleed?
If you tickle us do we not laugh?
If you poison us do we not die?
And if you wrong us shall we not revenge?
William Shakespeare
...
Anguish...Fear...Despair...
I'm roaming through the forbidden forest, wondering where Harry is. The night's cold wind sinks into my bones but I keep walking forward, making my way through the trees… I stop dead. I'm sure I heard a noise. Footsteps, coming closer… Frantically I search for my wand. I see a hooded figure approaching, its wand levelled at me… I turn and run. The branches hit my face as shouted spells and curses fill the air… Suddenly, my wand flies out from my hand. I'm disarmed. A deep, rough, masculine voice growls, "You wait until the others catch you, filthy mudblood," and then he murmurs something I can't quite catch… All I can feel is a terrible burning pain in my shoulder. "No! Please!" Stop, stop, stop….
I jerk awake in the middle of the night with a scream, again. There is nothing to hear, except the sound of my erratic breathing. I rub my eyes and fight desperately to calm myself.
Calm down Hermione. It was just another nightmare.
Another? Yeah, right. I reach for the silver mirror on the nightstand with a shaking hand, and I cast a Lumos with the other one. I'm not a pretty sight. There are deep grey eye shadows under my eyes, and my face is whiter than usual.
Somehow, I'm not surprised. Those dreadful dreams have been tormenting me since the battle of Hogwarts, when I…
No, I will not think about that. It's been months anyhow, and that one horrible, vile act has been almost eclipsed in my mind by something else…worse…the strange spell he cast before he…
I need a solution. I don't want to look like an Inferius every time I stare at the mirror. I need these nightmares to stop.
Hopefully, I haven't woken up the entire Burrow this time.
Well, better not to think about that now. Better just close my eyes… and all my thoughts disappear as sleep embraces me again.
...
The sound of the rain awakes me from a troublesome slumber. As my eyes vaguely adjust to the light, Crookshanks climbs onto the bed and purrs softly against my face. I stand up, stretching my arms and head towards the door. The hall is empty but as I walk downstairs, the unmistakable sound of Mrs Weasley berating her husband and the guys, fill the atmosphere.
"Ah! Hermione. A good morning to you!" says Mr Weasley as I approach the table. His voice is hearty, but I think I can detect worry in his eyes.
"Good morning, Mr Weasley." My voice sounds awfully hoarse and tired; I covertly clear my throat.
"Hermione, dear," Mrs Weasley greets me, as she pours orange juice for everyone. "Come, breakfast is almost ready."
I smile and help her with the dishes. A loud sound on the stairs startles me, but I relax as I realise it's only George and Ginny making their way downstairs. I can see Ron behind them, smiling down at me.
"Oh, Merlin's Beard!" cries out Mrs Weasley, staring daggers at her noisy family gathering around the table. "It sounds like I've raised a herd of centaurs instead of children!" I suppress a giggle, and then Ron gives me a peck on my cheek.
"Good morning, 'Mione," he greets me with a bright grin, scraping the chair next to mine noisily out. "Sleep well?"
"Morning Ron," I answer, flushing a little, wondering how on earth it's possible he didn't hear me last night. By the looks on all the other faces at the table, he was the only one. "Well… I… hmm…"
"Another nightmare?" asks Ginny warily, serving herself some toast.
"Oh… It was nothing, really," I say, anxiously trying to force a smile for Ron's sake. "Just some bad dreams I keep having."
"Just some bad dreams?" Ginny repeats my words disbelieving. "Hermione you were screaming like a Ban-"
"Ginny!" interrupts her mother sharply, shaking her head at her daughter's lack of discretion.
"It's okay, Mrs Weasley," I say quietly. "I guess I probably woke half the house up." Beside me, Ron has gone tense, and I can sense his smile has disappeared. I can't bring myself to look at him.
"What exactly do you keep dreaming about, dear?" Mrs Weasley asks gently, concern furrowing her face.
My mouth has gone very dry, but right there and then, I decide to be honest. I can't keep pretending that there's not something seriously wrong. "Well… it's not always the same," I haltingly begin to explain, my eyes fixed on the plate. "Sometimes I dream I'm at the battle again, other times I'm running through places I don't recognize, or…" I let it trail as I take a deep breath, then mumble, "…or I just dream that someone is torturing me."
"And you've been taking sleeping draughts-"
"Draughts, charms, muggle pills… all of them together… I've been trying everything," I say, my voice trembling with frustration. "Nothing works!"
"Hmm…" muses Mr Weasley, after a long pause. I look up and see him exchanging a worried glance with his wife.
"What is it?" I ask, "Please, we are f-family here," I stutter a little over that painful word. "If there's something I should know, just say it now."
There is a pause, then, Mr Weasley clears his throat and says, "It… appears as if there may be some kind of curse upon you."
For a moment I stare at him in utter shock. I can feel my face going pale. "Excuse me?" I gasp.
"Oh, you poor thing!" Mrs Weasley exclaims, piling more toast on my plate, as if feeding me up will somehow negate the awful truth.
Mr Weasley continues solemnly. "You said you're having these dreams since the battle?" I nod my agreement slowly, still dazed with shock. "It makes all the more sense then. At some point during that day, a follower of You-Know-Who, must have hit you with a dark spell."
"Why do you keep calling him by that, Arthur?" flares up Mrs Weasley. "It's just a name, and Voldemort is dead." She emphasizes the final word, as if reassuring herself for the fact.
"Sorry, Molly dear," his husband replies. "It's just the old habit."
I hardly hear this exchange. One terrible realization crowds out everything else.
Cursed! I had been cursed!
"But that's impossible!" Ron suddenly interjects. His voice is pained. "Hermione was with me in the castle the whole time, even when Harry went to face Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest. I would have noticed if something happened!"
I shudder at the mention. I haven't told him - or anyone for that matter - that I left the castle that night to follow Harry, let alone what happened to me in the forest…
"Tell them, 'Mione!" Ron persists, turning to me. "I didn't see anyone curse you-"
"Enough Ron!" Mr Weasley curtly overrides his son, making me jump as well. "Give Hermione a break, would you? You can see she's… not well."
Ron colours, then turns silently away, and begins to stab a piece of bacon with his fork. I wince, feeling I'm somehow to blame for his anger. The conversation is terminated, and an uncomfortable silence presses upon us.
I watch everyone eating warily and let my thoughts fly away.
I'm so oblivious to my surroundings, that I barely register a hard thudding sound in the window. I look up at Ron, dazed.
"It must be Pigwidgeon." He snorts, clearly still upset.
And he is right. The little grey owl flies happily around the room, dropping letters into the laps of the respective Weasley. I receive my copy of The Daily Prophet as usual, but my eyes widen in terror when I read the headline.
'DEATH EATER FUGITIVES STILL AT LARGE'
'The magic community is disturbed by the lack of information about the whereabouts of four Death Eaters, who authorities say may have survived the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Name, last May the 2nd at the grounds of Hogwarts. The bodies of known Death Eaters Jugson, Rookwood, Travers and Yaxley have not been recovered or sighted since then. It is assumed they are alive, and may be hiding to avoid incarceration in Azkaban. "The Ministry is doing everything necessary to recapture these absconders with a view to permanent imprisonment, for their multiple unforgivable crimes," said the new Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, in an exclusive interview with The Daily Prophet. "This presents a new challenge to the Ministry, as these people could potentially be anywhere in or outside of the country. However, we've alerted the International Wizarding Community about the danger these criminals represent". The Minister had also offered a reward of 2000 Galleons, for anyone who can provide any information leading to the recapture of these fugitives.'
My mind feels numb. They are still free? That's unbelievable! I can feel a mixture anger and fear building inside of me, but mostly fear.
"Something interesting in the news Hermione?" the mild and amicable sound of Ginny's voice brings me out of my horrified reverie.
"I… it's just…" my voice trails off in a whisper. I point to the headline for the family to see.
"Ah, yes. Terrible isn't it?" Mr Weasley says, reaching for some coffee. "The Ministry is enforcing and applying new laws in order to find them. We are under huge pressure."
"That explains Percy's troll face lately," George says with mock-seriousness drawing a round of nervous laughter from everyone.
"Many are suspected of having links with them," continues Mr Weasley, ignoring his son's last remark. "The Floo network is being monitored and apparition has been forbidden, unless you have a special authorization signed by Kingsley himself. But those cases are rare; at the moment only Aurors are able to apparate."
That's… extreme. The Ministry must be really desperate by taking those measures. True, that would stop illegal transportation and make the task easier, but it would be useless in trying to locate them. I read the Death Eaters' list carefully again, memorizing every name of it. So, one of these bastards is responsible for cursing me, and of… well. I'm almost sure of it.
But what if he is not one of them? What if he just died that day alongside his master and other followers? No, that definitely can't be. The curse is the prime evidence of it. Although I don't know exactly its origin, one fact remains clear: the caster has to be alive. Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to look inside my mind, and feed upon my innermost fears.
I wish I could find them. Although it's a treacherous task. I mean, it would not exactly be like catching pixies or butterflies. But then, I've already been hunting Horcruxes before…
Wait a minute. Am I really considering pursuing those Death Eaters all by myself? I must be going insane. But it's so frustrating knowing that they are out there, and even the best Aurors haven't caught them.
Like an almost nineteen-year-old girl could? Wake up Hermione!
And besides, capturing them wouldn't give me a cure for this curse. That would require someone with extensive knowledge in the Dark Arts, as well as some experience with Death Eaters. …Oh, dear Merlin, this is simply not fair.
And since when has life been fair?
I flick to the next page of the Daily Prophet, while everyone continues chatting. Instantly my eyes fix on the moving photo. A man with long platinum hair and a gaze as cold as ice, stares harshly at me: Lucius Malfoy. Below, I read the headline.
'THE MALFOYS' DRAMA'
'Another misfortune has struck the Malfoy family. It is no secret that the patriarch of the family, notable ex-Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, has been beset with difficulties in his bid to secure freedom, after the Ministry rejected his petition to be exempt from standing trial for his involvement in the war, three months ago. However, his troubles have been compounded by the sudden disappearance and probable kidnapping of his only son, Draco Malfoy, last week. The Daily Prophet understands that the disappearance is thought to be connected with the recent revelation that four Death Eaters survived the war and remain at large (see page 1). Motives of revenge or ransom have not been discounted. "The disappearance could be related to Malfoy's (snr) last-moment defection from Voldemort," explained Henry Macmillan, head of the Investigation Department at the Ministry. "Those who were loyal to him may have considered this as a betrayal, meriting retaliation." Mr Malfoy has made no comment and remains secluded at his manor, awaiting his upcoming trial on August the 10th, where he will be sentenced for his war crimes. Meanwhile, Aurors are working hard to recover Draco Malfoy, hoping to avoid a second tragedy since Narcissa Malfoy's death at the battle of Hogwarts, at the hands of the Dark Lord himself.'
What?! Malfoy kidnapped? Surely it has to be some kind of joke!
I've already heard about his father's situation of course; Harry told us. It seems like he's co-operating with the Ministry, but things are not going to be quite as easy for him this time. They really are considering sending him to Azkaban, and everything hinges on the outcome of his trial. And suddenly I realize that I… I feel sorry for him. I shouldn't, not after what his maniac sister-in-law did to me under his roof, but I can't help it. Having lost his wife and now his son missing, and unable to do anything about it? Of course he deserves some kind of punishment, but it seems too much, even for him. After all, he may be truly sorry for being a Death Eater…
My mouth snaps open with a sudden realization. Of course! How did I not see it before? HE is the right person!
My mind is whirling with thoughts. As a defected Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy has the experience and knowledge I need with the Dark Arts, if I'm to find a cure for my problem. Not to mention that he might know where those fugitives Death Eaters are hiding out, as they were his…no, 'friends' is definitely not the right word. More like 'fellows' yes, that's it.
I excuse myself from the table and run quickly back to my room. The door closes with a loud slam but I don't care. I have to think over this carefully. If I convince Mr Malfoy into helping me, not only could he find a cure for the curse, but he could also aid me in locating those ruffians.
And what makes you think he might want to help you?
Because, in the end, he has no choice. Helping me would give him the chance to find his son, and his freedom as well! Because one thing is clear: if he's found guilty at the trial, they'll lock him in Azkaban and throw away the key, and somehow I doubt that idea would appeal to him.
The cool air of the room makes me shiver a little, so I decide to take a hot bath. I'm about to pick up a couple of fluffy towels, when Crookshanks jumps on top of my Daily Prophet, scratching at it with his tiny paws.
"No, Crooks!" I snap, hurriedly shooing him of.
He was just about to disfigure Mr Malfoy's face on the photo! Fortunately, the text is still intact.
I check for the trial's date. August the 10th.
Oh God, that's next Monday!
I've got a week to contact Mr Malfoy and convince him to help me. How am I supposed to do that? We don't exactly have the best of relationships.
Maybe I could ask Harry for help?
I know he is going to attend the trial as a witness, so perhaps I can persuade him to speak in Lucius Malfoy's defence. That way, we'll have the perfect excuse for giving Mr Malfoy a visit before Monday.
So it's decided. As soon as Harry arrives at the Burrow, I'll talk with him about this. I just hope Mr Malfoy is not hostile to me. That cold, piercing gaze of his is enough to give me shivers.
But then I smile, when I see the scratches Crookshanks made on his picture.
Well, at least he seems a lot nicer with those scars upon his face.
I grin grimly to myself, and step into the bathroom.
...
It is past three when Harry finally arrives. I'm sitting on a couch facing the fireplace, sharing some chocolate frogs with Ginny, and reading 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'.
"Amusing yourselves?" Harry's joyful voice makes us gasp at the same time; he takes his seat besides us.
"Harry! You almost gave us a heart attack!" Ginny pushes his chest playfully.
"Sorry," he murmurs, "I didn't wanted to interrupt your err… exciting reading." I don't miss his derisive remark.
"Honestly, Hermione. You've read that book at least one hundred times!"
"Harry James Potter," I speak out and suppress a grin when he flinches a bit, "This is actually an assignment, rather that leisure reading."
"Oh?"
"Hermione wants to translate the tales from ancient runes," explains Ginny, showing him a copy of my project.
"I never thought I'd say this, but I'm beginning to enjoy ancient runes too. Hermione is quite the professor."
I smile at my best friend. At least my efforts are not in vain.
"Well, I'll definitely read your translation when it's done," he says sincerely.
"How are things with the Ministry?" I ask him, "Did they approve your request?"
"Yes, they did." He unfolds a parchment and hands it over for Ginny and me to look at. "The Auror Department just sent me their answer this morning," his voice trembles with excitement. "I begin my Auror training in two weeks."
"Harry! That is great news!" I exclaim. "I'm so proud of you!"
Ginny throws her arms around him in a fierce hug of congratulations. "So Harry the Auror, is it?" she says.
Harry smiles into the eyes of his beautiful girlfriend, and for a moment I feel a little envious of that closeness, the strength of connection between them.
"Yeah," he mutters wistfully. "How lucky am I?"
Ginny laughs. "It's not luck, Harry, you deserve it." Then, jumping to her feet she tugs him up. "C'mon Harry, you have to tell the others!"
I follow a little behind and watch the announcement and celebratory bustle from the doorway. I don't want to interrupt. I haven't seen Harry look this relaxed and happy since… I can't remember when.
Later, after the excitement of the household has settled, I approach him. "Harry, can I speak to you for a minute?"
"Sure, Hermione," he says, looking at me curiously. He follows me upstairs, until we reach the room he shares with Ron.
I halt under the threshold and peep at both sides of the hall, looking for any signs of an intruder.
"Hermione, what's going on?" he asks warily as I close the door behind us, "Is something wrong?"
"Harry I want to ask you a favour." He raises his eyebrows and I wait for him to nod before I continue. "Do you remember that I've told you about my nightmares?"
"Yes…you're not still having them, are you?"
"Worse than ever," I answer bitterly. "Apparently, I've been cursed."
"Cursed?" his eyes open up in bewilderment, "But how-when?"
"I-we think it happened during the battle of Hogwarts," I stammer. "It was an accident, I…" I'm struggling with the words; I bite my lip nervously.
"Hermione…" I flinch as his voice hardens, "What are you not telling me?"
Calm down. Just relax.
I take a deep breath and compose myself.
"The night of the battle when you surrendered to Voldemort in the forest…" I hear myself speaking in a studiously calm voice. "You told Ron and me to stay in the castle, remember?"
Harry nods slowly.
"I lied," I confess. I drop my gaze towards the floor, ashamed. "I followed you into the forest."
"What?" He frowns, then panics. "Blimey Hermione! Why did you do that? I thought-"
"I know, I know!" I interrupt him, my voice no longer calm. "But I was afraid for you! I didn't want you to die!"
I'm getting hysterical.
He is tense too, but manages to continue. "And did you find me? Did you see when Voldemort…well…attempted to kill me?"
"No. I lost your trail, and then I got lost myself."
He's eyeing me with concern. "And something happened when you 'got lost' didn't it? What happened to you, Hermione?"
For a moment I'm silent. I want to do anything except answer that question. I know it will hurt him to hear, as much as it will me to tell. But I don't have a choice.
"I was attacked by Death Eaters," I gulp, staring down at my shaking hands. "I dueled with one of them, but he disarmed me."
Then I lift my gaze, and meet his bright green eyes, eyes which are now brimming with alarm and fear.
"He pinned me against a tree, and then all I remember was an awful, burning pain, in here." I point at my left shoulder blade, rubbing it. "And then…I lost consciousness."
Well that is half the truth, at least. I don't want to dwell on the details of what happened after I recovered consciousness…
"And who was it?" Harry asks urgently. "Did you see his face? Did you recognize him?"
"No, he had a mask covering his face and was hooded as well," I reply. "But it was d-definitely a male...judging by the voice," And other things, I don't say.
Harry's expression is grim. He begins to pace about the room, evidently thinking. I gravitate over to a wooden bench by the window and sink down onto it. "Harry," I say, "I'm sure - positive - that he's one of the missing Death Eaters."
He looks at me questioningly. "How can you be sure?"
As briefly as possible, I explain my hypothesis to him - the constant nightmares, the ongoing pain, the torment I experience each night... and why the caster needs to be alive. "That's why I need your help," I say in conclusion, standing up and moving over to him.
He shakes his head helplessly. "Hermione, what can I do? The Aurors are already doing everything they can to try and catch them."
"It's not enough! How long will it take to catch them, Harry? Months? Maybe years?" I feel hot tears sliding down my cheeks but I wipe them furiously. "I...I can't go on like this."
Harry draws me against him, trying to comfort me. "If there was another way, you know that I would-"
"There IS another way!" I cry fiercely. "The ONLY way! We have to get help from someone with insider knowledge. Someone who understands the Dark Arts."
Harry stares down at me, confusion in his eyes. "But I don't know anything about that stuff."
His sincerity and earnestness makes me smile, despite everything. "I know that, Harry," I say gently. "...But you'll be meeting a person who is something of an expert in this field next week."
He looks genuinely flummoxed. "What do you mean?"
"You are still attending Lucius Malfoy's trial, aren't you?"
"Yeah, but what does it have to do with..." His face drains of colour as realization hits him, and he falls back a couple of steps. "Oh, no, Hermione. No way. You cannot be serious."
"I'm always serious, Harry," I reply, my voice calm once more.
"Lucius Malfoy?" He snorts incredulously. "Hermione!"
"Why not?"
"Because he is a dark wizard!"
How observant, Harry.
"Exactly!" I snap, fighting another wave of hysteria. He is staring at me as if had three heads.
Logic Hermione.
"Harry don't you see? If we have Mr Malfoy on our side, he could not only help me find a cure for this curse, but also help the Aurors find those missing Death Eaters, and bring them to justice! This isn't only about me, Harry."
A long pause envelops us. "I think you have a point, Hermione," he says at last.
Oh, thank God.
"But what makes you think he would help us?" he asks. "What can we possible offer him instead? He isn't exactly the sort of man who bestows favours out of the kindness of his heart."
"Think about it, Harry. His son is missing, presumed kidnapped by these same people. His freedom is at stake. If we can convince the Ministry to drop the charges and have him help us capture those criminals, he has absolutely nothing to lose, and EVERYTHING to gain!" My voice is trembling with excitement. "I think that is enough reason don't you?"
Harry nods. "I guess you're right," he replies.
"I know I am," I say.
"Alright, alright. I'll owl Mr Malfoy tonight."
A glister of hope. A light in the obscurity. "Oh, thanks Harry! I knew I could count on you!"
He moves over to the door, but turns back to me before he reaches it. "Have you told...anyone about this crazy plan of yours?"
I know what he means by anyone. "Not yet," I answer. "And please don't tell anyone. Especially him...Ron."
He gives me a look. "You know you'll have to tell him sooner or later, Hermione."
I do hate it when he is right.
"I'll talk to him… later."
"Alright." He reaches for the doorknob and draws open the door. "Aren't you coming down?"
"I'll join you in a minute."
I watch him disappear through the threshold, then move back to the window.
I gaze outside, watching the afternoon sky. The clouds are parting, and I can see a ray of sun breaking through. Things might be at last looking up.
...
It's been four days since Harry wrote to Mr Malfoy, but we haven't heard anything back from him. My concern is growing.
I'm starting to think this was a bad idea.
Get a grip, Hermione. You have no choice. You've just got to sit tight...
Of course, that's easier said than done.
Patience is a virtue.
Well, maybe I'm not virtuous, then. I can't help worrying. Malfoy's trial is in two days time, and if I don't hear from him before than, the plan will go to hell.
···
Okay, I need some serious distraction. Otherwise, I'll go mad locked up here in The Burrow.
I decide to make a trip to Diagon Alley and spend the day there. After convincing the Weasleys of let me go alone - without Ron - I use Floo powder to travel to the main high-street. I can't help but stare in amazement at how much this place had changed since the end of the war. Lots of new shops grace the Alley, and the atmosphere is rather a joyful one.
I enter Flourish and Blotts, and locate my area of interest on the upper floor. There has to be some book that can give me some information about rare and dark curses. I pore over the book-spines, shelf by shelf, but after a long time the only books related I find are, 'The Advanced Defence Guide against Dark Forces' and 'The Forbidden Book of Curses: An Approch to the Dark Arts'.
Well, it's a start!
I buy both copies and exit the shop. I'm about to enter Florean Fortescue's for an icecream, when I hear someone calling my name.
"Hermione! Over here!" I turn, instantly recognizing that voice's owner. It's Harry!
"Harry? What are you doing here?" I ask, flabbergasted by his sudden appearance, but equally relieved.
"We need to talk. It's urgent," he explains a little hurriedly. I have a pretty good idea of what it's about, but before I can reply he hushes me. "But not here. Come with me."
I follow him down the street until we reach The Leaky Cauldron.
Inside, it is dark and shabby as always, and we sit down at a table in one shadowy corner, out of the light of a low-hanging brass chandelier suspended from the dusty ceiling.
Harry orders a couple of Butterbeers, but I get straight the point. "It's about Mr Malfoy, isn't it?" I demand, my nerves on fire. His face is calm, but it only makes me even more anxious. "What did he say?"
"He agreed," Harry says, passing me a hand-written scroll containing Mr Malfoy's reply. "He expects us in his Manor tomorrow, at nine o' clock in the morning."
His Manor? Oh, no…
What did you expect, Hermione? A meeting at a coffee shop? He is detained in his house!
I know. It's just… I'm not sure how I'll react once I am under that roof again.
Well, there'll be no sadistic Bellatrix this time. Only him, - Mr Malfoy. That can't be worse, now can it?
"Hermione," Harry begins, obviously thinking the same as I, "are you sure you want to do this?"
I take a sip of my drink. "Yes, Harry. I need… no, I MUST do this," I say with fierce determination. "I can't stand it anymore, it's the only way."
He nods in agreement. "So be it, Hermione." He raises his glass of Butterbeer. I do the same, "Cheers," Harry says, and I drink with him.
It's done, there's no turning back now.
And it's not just about myself. How many others have suffered the same as I did, and no one did anything about it? Well no more hesitating. This isn't about revenge. It's about justice, and I'm not going to wait for someone else to serve it, when I can take it in my own hands.
To be Continued...