[HP] Butterfly Bound -- Chapter 02
Title: Butterfly Bound
Chapter 02: Questions
Rating: M (and/or R)
Words: 4,340
Summary: 6th year AU. Theodore/Hermione. When Harry lies dying from an unbreakable curse, Hermione is desperate to find a cure. After a summer of hell, Theodore wants nothing to do with the war. A Nott family heirloom provides the answer to both their prayers, but only if they can work together to survive the heirloom's demands. And even if they succeed, there's still a war to win...
Notes: Written for the 2012 Finish-a-Thon and
edellin's fic request.
Warnings: Torture-physical/emotional, psychological mindfuckery, kidnapping, gore, disturbing imagery, cannibalism, and death.
Harry's chest rose and fell with each breath.
Hermione found the constant motion comforting. It was easiest way to tell he was still alive. She sat in the Hogwarts infirmary, her gaze fixed on Harry, watching each rise and fall with anxious eyes, and kept track of the others in the room only because, irrationally, if she didn't then something might go wrong with Harry.
Something was already wrong with Harry. The dreadful part was that no one knew exactly what yet.
She'd been woken three hours ago by Professor McGonagall ringing her doorbell at one in the morning. The sound had roused not only her, but also her parents, and Hermione had no doubt that she was going to have to do some explaining later to them for she'd been insistent that she and Professor McGonagall leave immediately once she'd heard it was about Harry.
When she'd reached Hogwarts, still dishevelled and in her night things with a robe thrown over them, she'd been unsurprised to find Ron already present. He'd probably just come by Floo, which made his travel time much shorter. She couldn't wait until she had her own place, with her own fireplace--her parents were firm in their refusal to get one--and then she'd have far more freedom to travel.
But that was a small matter, barely worth thinking about when Harry lay on a hospital bed, eyes closed, breathing slow, like he was only sleeping. There was faint colour in his cheeks. Someone had folded his hands over his chest, which Hermione felt meant that they had no idea how Harry slept. But it was a nice gesture, to make him seem a little more natural. She suspected that Ginny had done it; the girl was standing next to his bed, ignoring the chairs and looking pale and peaky.
Hermione doubted that she looked much better. She'd seen the problems almost immediately. No one could wake Harry up. Not even all of Madame Pomfrey's spells or Professor Snape's potions. Professor Dumbledore was looking increasingly grim with each failure and she wasn't sure where Professor McGonagall had wandered off to. Perhaps back to bed? Hermione wondered then told herself briskly not to be ridiculous. There was no way that Professor McGonagall would just go back to bed when a student was in distress.
Wake up, Harry, she thought at him fiercely. He gave no indication of hearing.
"Do you have any ideas?" Ron asked her. "You're the walking encyclopedia."
"I like to read," she said sniffily, then relented--he had a good question and it was one that she wished she could answer in the positive. "Nothing that they're not already trying. I've never made a study of spells that induce sleep that can't be woken up from. Nothing I know matches the symptoms he's showing."
Ron sighed miserably. "We're always in here because of one of us, aren't we?" he asked, a bit of dark humour lingering on the edges of his words. "Usually him."
"It's not his fault," she said quietly.
"Never said it was." Ron looked at Harry contemplatively, then frowned. "Do you think," he murmured, "that they've tried that Legilimency thing that Snape and Dumbledore do?"
Hermione tugged her eyes away from Harry to stare at Ron. "Harry would hate that," she pointed out, her voice hushed. "He might never forgive us if we suggest they deliberately invade his privacy."
"Not even if it's to save his life?" Ron countered. "They're not going to be in there to snoop around for anything but causes of this. I think that's a fair compromise, Hermione."
She looked back at Harry, unsettled at the very idea and unwilling to concede that he might have a point. It still left her feeling a bit uncomfortable. She could only imagine how she'd feel if someone invaded her mind while she slept and she'd feel horrible, did feel horrible at even considering it. "They haven't tried all of the conventional cures yet," she said reasonably. "Maybe we'll get lucky. It's only been a few hours that they've been trying."
Ron snorted. Ginny raised her head to look at both of them with a stare that said clearly that they were being irritating and should really shut up now. Hermione raised her eyebrows at her then shrugged and turned to Ron. Out of respect for Harry, and for the professors who were still attempting to wake him, and were murmuring their own conversation in quiet voices, she kept her voice small. "I mean," she said, "I don't believe that we will," and that hurt to admit, "but why would You-Know-Who put Harry to sleep? What if it wasn't You-Know-Who? It could be anyone!"
"Don't say that," Ron said, looking uncomfortable. "Who else would it be? More importantly, wasn't Harry supposed to be safe from harm where he was?"
"Sleeping," Ginny said, her voice flat but carrying, "isn't exactly harm."
They all looked at Harry and then looked away. Hermione didn't know how they felt, but she was incredibly off-kilter. Harry wasn't harmed, she supposed, by the sleep alone.
But if he couldn't wake up...
"Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said, making up her mind and, as was her wont, speaking up immediately about it, "would seeing what Harry is dreaming or thinking about right now help you in determining what's wrong with him?"
At the sound of her voice, the Professors and Madam Pomfrey stopped talking, and looked at her. Snape looked thoughtful and shuttered, Dumbledore grim, and there was nothing in Madam Pomfrey's face but anxiety and concern.
"That is an idea we've considered," he said courteously, "but felt that it was best to eliminate other routes first. Depending on the nature of the sleep Mr. Potter is under, attempting to see into his mind could cause more harm than good. Indeed, some curses have specific counters to mental probing."
She flushed a little. "It was just an idea," Hermione said, embarrassed. "I didn't mean that you hadn't thought of it or--"
But the professors turned back to their own discussion and didn't seem to notice as she trailed off uncertainly.
"Look at Snape," Ginny said. "He looks like he's winning whatever argument they were having."
She looked, cheeks still coloured, and sure enough, there was a certain set to Snape's shoulders and the play of emotion across his closely-guarded face that said he was on sure ground and certain he was getting somewhere. She wondered what it was that he was arguing about.
"I reckon he wants to do the same thing you asked about," Ron said moodily. "Which makes me feel dirty. I'm agreeing with Snape."
He sounded so appalled that Hermione smiled a little. "It had to happen eventually," she teased. "And if it's about Harry and making him better, then there's worse things to agree about, I'm sure."
Ron just shook his head, laced his fingers behind it, and slumped back in his chair. "Still though," he said, "are we supposed to do something? Even when he's been stuck in the hospital before we've been allowed to visit and then everyone oh so politely shoos us out. No one is doing that."
"Don't give them ideas!" hissed Ginny. "I'm lucky I got to come at all. You heard Mum, she was all 'oh, Ginny darling, no, you're too young!' and me only a year younger than you!"
"Yeah, well, you're the girl," Ron pointed out. "Mum fusses more after you. Likes you better, doesn't she?"
"Hmph. I could do with less liking if it means I get to do what I want more," Ginny said, carefully reaching out to smooth a bit of hair out of Harry's face and looking as if she was surprised by her own daring.
"Maybe she's starting to realize that," Hermione offered, as always, surprised at the differences between her parents and the Weasleys. Her mum and dad loved her but they rarely fussed the way both the Weasley parents were prone to do. And the apron strings had been cut much earlier... though perhaps that had more to do with the fact that she'd found herself in a whole new world that they couldn't follow her into at the age of not-quite-twelve. "That's why you got to come."
"Maybe," Ginny said, as moodily as Ron. "I thought, maybe, that it was because it could be one of the classic spells. But that doesn't make sense because wouldn't they have asked Cho here instead?"
"Harry and Cho aren't together." Ron opened his eyes, looking a bit amused. "Imagine that! Them Flooing to ask her to pretty please come and kiss Harry awake!" He gave his sister a severe look. "And you, what are you thinking about that for--you're dating Dean!"
"I know it was stupid!" Ginny snapped, her temper flaring. "Shut your mouth before I do it for you."
"The classic spells?" Hermione asked quickly. Given the rest of their conversation, she could guess, but she was more concerned with derailing the argument before it really got going for Ron was as short tempered as Ginny was when stressed.
"It's… true love's kiss to wake the sleeper?," Ginny said, flushing to the roots of her hair. "That's a Wizarding thing that even Muggles have stories about, right? Only it's not just fantasy for us--that's a real spell and a real solution."
Hermione felt herself flushing a little too as she realized, suddenly, another reason why she might have been fetched. "You don't think they think that either of us could be..."
Ron looked perturbed. "Then what am I here for? Harry's my best mate but I'm never snogging him."
They all looked at each other and then burst out laughing.
"Well, really!" Madam Pomfrey bustled over, looking indignant. "You shouldn't be making so much noise around a patient. Mr. Potter is sleeping."
"And you can't wake him up," Ginny snapped, all laughter gone in the blink of an eye. "So why shouldn't we make noise? Maybe it'll help more than all the spells you're tossing around."
"Miss Weasley," Professor Snape's voice was low and ominous, "I suggest you stop talking unless you wish Gryffindor to start the coming year with negative points."
Ginny glared, her brown eyes bright. Ron shifted, lowering his hands. "She's got a point, though, Professors, Madam Pomfrey. If Harry can't be woken up, then our making noise isn't going to make much of a difference either way, right?"
Hermione swallowed the urge to gasp at Ron and Ginny's daring. "Please," she said, "we just want to help. If Harry hears us, maybe he'll come back, if we're laughing."
The three adults exchanged glances. Madam Pomfrey won what looked like a silent war in no more than a minute, though it felt like longer, and she stepped forward. "You three," she said, "out. We should have realized that you need your sleep and we'll finish our testing while you get some rest. Head on up to your dorm."
"There's no password right now," Ron said indignantly. "How're we supposed to get in?"
"The password is," here she grimaced, "Lethifold. Hagrid picked it. Tasteless, but that man… Go on now, get some sleep."
Grumbling but unwilling to push their luck further with Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape present, they went.
Later that morning, as early as the three of them dared to brave the wrath of Madam Pomfrey, found Ginny, Ron, and Hermione slipping down empty halls, heading to infirmary to visit with Harry again.
"Since when do you call He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named You-Know-Who?" Ron asked her as they walked down corridors. "You're the one that was getting on my case last year about not doing the same."
Hermione flushed.
"That's right," Ginny said, tilting her head. "Last night you were definitely using You-Know-Who."
"You'll tease," Hermione said quickly, hoping they would drop it. No such luck, of course.
"Now you have to tell us," Ron said with satisfaction. "Or you'll never get any peace."
She raised her chin, aware that her cheeks were red, and gave serious thought to ignoring the both of them. "It feels weird," Hermione said, after deciding that honesty was better in this case, "to do it when Harry's not around. He's much braver than I am."
Neither Ron nor Ginny laughed at that. On reflection, she supposed it wasn't such a laughing matter.
As they stepped into the infirmary, they froze, like they'd been hit with a Stunner, only no spell had been cast. Instead, they found Professor Dumbledore leaning over Harry, staring intently at his face.
Professor Snape noticed them first--Madam Pomfrey tutting as she bustled around cleaning up used vials and potions that had been taken from the cabinets and then decided against, and Professor Dumbledore did not bother to look their way. "Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, Miss Weasley," he said, his voice as sharp as ever. Hermione took heart from the fact that it wasn't sharper. "As you can see, the Headmaster has taken it upon himself to inspect Mr. Potter's mind."
"Why not you?" Ron blurted.
Hermione elbowed him. "Because of You-Know-Who," she said quietly. "Professor Snape can't be seen in there and they don't know what sort of traps might be present."
"Professor Snape," Ginny asked bravely, having made her way closer to the bed. "Why do you think You-Know-Who put Harry to sleep? We were thinking about it last night but it doesn't make sense to us. If he could put a curse on him, wouldn't he use something that would kill Harry?"
"Well-reasoned, Miss Weasley," Professor Snape said, sounding weary. "As for why sleep, our investigations have given us a few unsettling clues as to what the reasoning might be. This spell will kill Mr. Potter eventually. It works slowly, it will be a matter of weeks, perhaps even months, before any symptoms of worse than sleep begin to show, but if he cannot be woken then yes, eventually he will die."
Ginny went white. Ron sat down heavily in a chair and Hermione felt dizzy enough that she did the same. She was sure she looked no better than either of them. It was one thing to know that Harry was constantly in danger--hard to bear, yes, but he'd always managed to escape before--but now, to hear that if he didn't wake up, he'd just... one day not be there.
"Professor Snape," Hermione said, "are we allowed to know what the other unsettling clues are?"
To her surprise, Snape glanced at the Headmaster, who was still engrossed in investigating Harry's mind. She shifted, uncomfortable to realize that part of her would have rathered it be Snape doing that job. Snape, at least, would not stay there longer than he had to.
Don't be silly, she told herself, Professor Dumbledore wouldn't hurt Harry.
"The Headmaster has indicated that he would prefer as few people to know as possible," Professor Snape began, "but I'm afraid in this case I disagree with him. You are Mr. Potter's... friends..." his voice twisted the word into something uncomfortable, "and may be able to shed some light on one of the things we discovered."
"What is it, then?"
"All indications we have are that the reason the curse could take hold was because Mr. Potter willingly accepted it."
Ginny gasped, Ron flinched backwards, and Hermione squeezed her eyes shut in horror. Harry accept a curse that would eventually kill him? But why? Why would he do something like that?
"You're wrong," Ginny said sharply, a tremble in her voice. "Why would he do that? He's a hero! Harry would never!"
"Never, Miss Weasley, is a very long time."
She recoiled, as if struck, from the silky venom in Professor Snape's voice. "It's just," Ginny said, her eyes huge, "it's just hard to understand. Even with everything... he's never just..."
"It's possible," Professor Snape conceded, "that he did not know what he was accepting. He may have thought it was his own thoughts, telling him to sleep, and we've all had that sort of thought before. That would count as permission."
Hermione felt like she was going to be ill. From the expression on Ron's face, he didn't feel much better. Ginny looked splotchy, equal parts flushed and pale, and near tears.
The Headmaster sighed and stirred, standing up carefully and then glancing at the rest of them without surprise. I wonder, Hermione thought, if he knew we were here or if he's just good at hiding his expression?
"What about Harry?" Ron asked. "What did you find, Professor?"
"He's dreaming," Professor Dumbledore said, sounding weary. "Dreaming of a different life, one where he's happy. I could not make my voice reach him, no matter how I tried."
They were all silent for a long moment.
"Do you... do you know of any curse that does that?" Hermione asked tentatively.
"No, Miss Granger," Professor Dumbledore said, looking grave. "I suspect we will be doing a great deal of research before we come close to solving this."
She raised her chin. "We're helping," Hermione said determinedly. "We're good at research." Really, she had no idea how good Ginny was at it, and Ron was usually indifferent but she was good at it and there was no way, not right now, that she was going to say that and have them, perhaps, keep her and send the others off.
Hermione did not think they would go, in any case.
Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, a little of the kindly grandfather back in his demeanor. "That is indeed one of the reasons we've summoned you to Hogwarts. You will be staying with the Order until the end of the summer or until Harry is cured. Whichever comes first."
"Where will we be staying?" Ron asked. "Dad said that Sirius' place is no good anymore."
"Your father is right. As for where you'll be staying, there are several different places…"
Summer passed in a gloom of libraries and unfamiliar houses and constant, aching worry for Harry. Ginny threw herself into researching like it was her life that depended on it and Ron and Hermione were not much behind her.
Harry, after all, was important to them all. And Ron, Hermione noticed, with a suppressed smile, did not mention Dean to Ginny again.
Hermione Granger poured over a multitude of books with no intention of leaving off any time soon. Her homework was done, had been since the first few days of the summer, but her days were still consumed with a different sort of problem. A very Harry sort of problem, she thought miserably. Across the table from her, Ron and Ginny poured over books with the same intensity that she'd been devoting.
She didn't ask if they'd completed their summer homework. She doubted it and while it would be comforting to nag at them, Hermione thought that it would be nothing but cruel. And this was far more important.
"I've nothing in this selection," she said, her voice a whisper in the hushed quiet of the library. A few desks away, Professor Lupin (who she was unable to think of as anything else despite the fact that he'd not taught for nearly three years now), Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape poured over books that they had declared off-limits to the students.
She shivered. Dark Arts books. Hermione bit her lip as Ron's shoulders slumped and Ginny echoed his tired sigh. We're not getting anywhere.
"This is rubbish," Ginny said scornfully, casting a glance at the teachers and lowering her voice even further. "They're the ones that have the better books for this."
Ron grimaced in agreement. "Do they think we haven't dealt with..." he faltered and then continued, "Harry's problems before? And you, Hermione, what are they doing keeping you from those? You know how to find things better than any of us."
She flushed slightly. "Don't," she said, "don't start that argument with them again. Especially not with Snape right there. He'll take off every point Gryffindor gets for the year if you do." She didn't care about the points. From the mutinous expression on Ron's face, he didn't either. This was about what was best for Harry. "And besides," Hermione added quickly, "they can't keep me from them forever. All they said was that we had to be of age, right?"
"And you're seventeen in a month," Ginny hissed, "which is great but what if Harry dies before that?"
"Ginny, don't." Ron raked his hands wearily through his hair. He was far paler than usual after a summer, thanks to spending the majority of his time inside rather than outside in the sun. "She's trying to help. We're all trying to help."
Hermione swallowed her retort. Ginny was short-tempered at the best of times and I, I am no better, Hermione thought ruefully. Especially not when I wonder if she doesn't have a point. "Come on," she said abruptly, and stood. "Let's get more books and then sit outside. Maybe we'll think better if we're in fresher air."
They both eyed her for a moment, equal expressions of doubt on their faces, but long friendship meant that when she gathered up her books to put back, they did the same.
Each of them took a new armload of books and trooped out of the library.
"Sitting outside isn't going to help us," Ron said.
"It might improve our moods," Hermione said, glancing sharply at the portraits that were watching them.
"Maybe," Ginny said thoughtfully, "what we need is a new perspective on this. I still think we should have asked Luna to come to school early. She's top of my year for all that she's up in the clouds a lot."
Hermione bit her tongue and carefully didn't say her first retort. "Professor Dumbledore thought it best that the number of people who were in the know was kept as small as possible."
"I know," Ginny said, annoyed, "but I'm just saying."
Ron sighed.
Hogwarts in the summer, Hermione thought as they all three lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, was gorgeous. They hadn't been at the castle for most of the summer, having been shuffled between a grimy old manor that the Headmaster had said had been given to him and promptly forgotten years ago and other houses of similarly murky pasts. She doubted the veracity of any of the stories they'd been told and yet barely cared.
A few of the Professors had been in and out of Grimmauld Place since Sirius had died but without Harry awake and able to take over the magical inheritance of the house and Kreacher, they didn't dare stay there. Not when at this delicate junction, Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy had equal claim to the house.
And Andromeda Tonks had slammed the door in the Headmaster's face when he'd come to talk to her. Hermione wondered why. Tonks had been tight-lipped and grim when she'd come back from seeing her mother, the Headmaster in tow, and it had unsettled them enough that she didn't think anyone had dared to ask what had gone wrong.
Everything is going wrong this summer, she thought, wishing idly one of her hands was free so that she could tuck her hair properly back behind her ears. And we're the lucky ones.
The Daily Prophet and The Quibbler both were painting grim pictures of exactly what You-Know-Who had been up to during the summer months. So many people missing. So many questions left unanswered. Key amongst them was why, of course, but more pressingly and more frighteningly was how was he managing the kidnappings? Some of the homes that people had disappeared from were incredibly well warded.
But they had no answers to that either.
Outside was almost blinding after days and days of being inside with dusty books and heavy tables. The grass as brilliant as Harry's eyes and the sky an almost painful blue. The sun turned Ron and Ginny's hair the colour of molten copper and washed away some of the tension in their faces.
Despite herself, she could feel the warmth doing the same to her.
"So," Ron said, once they'd settled under a tree, "did you have an idea or are we really out here because you think it'd be better for us?"
She smiled wanly. "A little from column A and a little from column B."
"What's this idea?" Ginny asked, sorting through the books they'd brought and pulling one from the pile at random to flip through it.
"Well," she said, tucking her legs underneath her, "I think it's interesting that no one has been able to find anything about this curse, even though we've spent two months searching for it."
"There's a lot more than two months' worth of Dark curses in the world," Ron pointed out, like he was reluctant to do so. He rubbed at the scars the brains from the Department of Mysteries had left on his arms like they pained him. "And You-Know-Who spent decades travelling the world. Who knows where he picked it up?" Ron moodily plucked at some grass. "Or even invented it," he added. "That's possible too."
She had to concede it was.
"I can't shake the idea that we're looking in the wrong place though," Hermione continued doggedly. "Everything we've looked at has had death as the main result of the curse."
"That's what's going to happen," Ginny said with the air of one readying herself for an argument. "Why wouldn't You-Know-Who have used a curse like that?"
"I know," Hermione said impatiently, "but that's the thing. He knows all sorts of curses--why would he pick one that doesn't kill Harry quicker?"
"Are you mental?" Ron yelped. "We don't want him to kill Harry quicker!"
"I never said I did either," Hermione snapped. "But why wouldn't You-Know-Who want that?
None of them had any response to that and an uncomfortable silence settled around them.
Three days until the end of summer vacation.
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Originally posted on DW. Comment there. (Unless you want to comment here. That's fine too.)
Chapter 02: Questions
Rating: M (and/or R)
Words: 4,340
Summary: 6th year AU. Theodore/Hermione. When Harry lies dying from an unbreakable curse, Hermione is desperate to find a cure. After a summer of hell, Theodore wants nothing to do with the war. A Nott family heirloom provides the answer to both their prayers, but only if they can work together to survive the heirloom's demands. And even if they succeed, there's still a war to win...
Notes: Written for the 2012 Finish-a-Thon and
edellin's fic request.
Warnings: Torture-physical/emotional, psychological mindfuckery, kidnapping, gore, disturbing imagery, cannibalism, and death.
Harry's chest rose and fell with each breath.
Hermione found the constant motion comforting. It was easiest way to tell he was still alive. She sat in the Hogwarts infirmary, her gaze fixed on Harry, watching each rise and fall with anxious eyes, and kept track of the others in the room only because, irrationally, if she didn't then something might go wrong with Harry.
Something was already wrong with Harry. The dreadful part was that no one knew exactly what yet.
She'd been woken three hours ago by Professor McGonagall ringing her doorbell at one in the morning. The sound had roused not only her, but also her parents, and Hermione had no doubt that she was going to have to do some explaining later to them for she'd been insistent that she and Professor McGonagall leave immediately once she'd heard it was about Harry.
When she'd reached Hogwarts, still dishevelled and in her night things with a robe thrown over them, she'd been unsurprised to find Ron already present. He'd probably just come by Floo, which made his travel time much shorter. She couldn't wait until she had her own place, with her own fireplace--her parents were firm in their refusal to get one--and then she'd have far more freedom to travel.
But that was a small matter, barely worth thinking about when Harry lay on a hospital bed, eyes closed, breathing slow, like he was only sleeping. There was faint colour in his cheeks. Someone had folded his hands over his chest, which Hermione felt meant that they had no idea how Harry slept. But it was a nice gesture, to make him seem a little more natural. She suspected that Ginny had done it; the girl was standing next to his bed, ignoring the chairs and looking pale and peaky.
Hermione doubted that she looked much better. She'd seen the problems almost immediately. No one could wake Harry up. Not even all of Madame Pomfrey's spells or Professor Snape's potions. Professor Dumbledore was looking increasingly grim with each failure and she wasn't sure where Professor McGonagall had wandered off to. Perhaps back to bed? Hermione wondered then told herself briskly not to be ridiculous. There was no way that Professor McGonagall would just go back to bed when a student was in distress.
Wake up, Harry, she thought at him fiercely. He gave no indication of hearing.
"Do you have any ideas?" Ron asked her. "You're the walking encyclopedia."
"I like to read," she said sniffily, then relented--he had a good question and it was one that she wished she could answer in the positive. "Nothing that they're not already trying. I've never made a study of spells that induce sleep that can't be woken up from. Nothing I know matches the symptoms he's showing."
Ron sighed miserably. "We're always in here because of one of us, aren't we?" he asked, a bit of dark humour lingering on the edges of his words. "Usually him."
"It's not his fault," she said quietly.
"Never said it was." Ron looked at Harry contemplatively, then frowned. "Do you think," he murmured, "that they've tried that Legilimency thing that Snape and Dumbledore do?"
Hermione tugged her eyes away from Harry to stare at Ron. "Harry would hate that," she pointed out, her voice hushed. "He might never forgive us if we suggest they deliberately invade his privacy."
"Not even if it's to save his life?" Ron countered. "They're not going to be in there to snoop around for anything but causes of this. I think that's a fair compromise, Hermione."
She looked back at Harry, unsettled at the very idea and unwilling to concede that he might have a point. It still left her feeling a bit uncomfortable. She could only imagine how she'd feel if someone invaded her mind while she slept and she'd feel horrible, did feel horrible at even considering it. "They haven't tried all of the conventional cures yet," she said reasonably. "Maybe we'll get lucky. It's only been a few hours that they've been trying."
Ron snorted. Ginny raised her head to look at both of them with a stare that said clearly that they were being irritating and should really shut up now. Hermione raised her eyebrows at her then shrugged and turned to Ron. Out of respect for Harry, and for the professors who were still attempting to wake him, and were murmuring their own conversation in quiet voices, she kept her voice small. "I mean," she said, "I don't believe that we will," and that hurt to admit, "but why would You-Know-Who put Harry to sleep? What if it wasn't You-Know-Who? It could be anyone!"
"Don't say that," Ron said, looking uncomfortable. "Who else would it be? More importantly, wasn't Harry supposed to be safe from harm where he was?"
"Sleeping," Ginny said, her voice flat but carrying, "isn't exactly harm."
They all looked at Harry and then looked away. Hermione didn't know how they felt, but she was incredibly off-kilter. Harry wasn't harmed, she supposed, by the sleep alone.
But if he couldn't wake up...
"Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said, making up her mind and, as was her wont, speaking up immediately about it, "would seeing what Harry is dreaming or thinking about right now help you in determining what's wrong with him?"
At the sound of her voice, the Professors and Madam Pomfrey stopped talking, and looked at her. Snape looked thoughtful and shuttered, Dumbledore grim, and there was nothing in Madam Pomfrey's face but anxiety and concern.
"That is an idea we've considered," he said courteously, "but felt that it was best to eliminate other routes first. Depending on the nature of the sleep Mr. Potter is under, attempting to see into his mind could cause more harm than good. Indeed, some curses have specific counters to mental probing."
She flushed a little. "It was just an idea," Hermione said, embarrassed. "I didn't mean that you hadn't thought of it or--"
But the professors turned back to their own discussion and didn't seem to notice as she trailed off uncertainly.
"Look at Snape," Ginny said. "He looks like he's winning whatever argument they were having."
She looked, cheeks still coloured, and sure enough, there was a certain set to Snape's shoulders and the play of emotion across his closely-guarded face that said he was on sure ground and certain he was getting somewhere. She wondered what it was that he was arguing about.
"I reckon he wants to do the same thing you asked about," Ron said moodily. "Which makes me feel dirty. I'm agreeing with Snape."
He sounded so appalled that Hermione smiled a little. "It had to happen eventually," she teased. "And if it's about Harry and making him better, then there's worse things to agree about, I'm sure."
Ron just shook his head, laced his fingers behind it, and slumped back in his chair. "Still though," he said, "are we supposed to do something? Even when he's been stuck in the hospital before we've been allowed to visit and then everyone oh so politely shoos us out. No one is doing that."
"Don't give them ideas!" hissed Ginny. "I'm lucky I got to come at all. You heard Mum, she was all 'oh, Ginny darling, no, you're too young!' and me only a year younger than you!"
"Yeah, well, you're the girl," Ron pointed out. "Mum fusses more after you. Likes you better, doesn't she?"
"Hmph. I could do with less liking if it means I get to do what I want more," Ginny said, carefully reaching out to smooth a bit of hair out of Harry's face and looking as if she was surprised by her own daring.
"Maybe she's starting to realize that," Hermione offered, as always, surprised at the differences between her parents and the Weasleys. Her mum and dad loved her but they rarely fussed the way both the Weasley parents were prone to do. And the apron strings had been cut much earlier... though perhaps that had more to do with the fact that she'd found herself in a whole new world that they couldn't follow her into at the age of not-quite-twelve. "That's why you got to come."
"Maybe," Ginny said, as moodily as Ron. "I thought, maybe, that it was because it could be one of the classic spells. But that doesn't make sense because wouldn't they have asked Cho here instead?"
"Harry and Cho aren't together." Ron opened his eyes, looking a bit amused. "Imagine that! Them Flooing to ask her to pretty please come and kiss Harry awake!" He gave his sister a severe look. "And you, what are you thinking about that for--you're dating Dean!"
"I know it was stupid!" Ginny snapped, her temper flaring. "Shut your mouth before I do it for you."
"The classic spells?" Hermione asked quickly. Given the rest of their conversation, she could guess, but she was more concerned with derailing the argument before it really got going for Ron was as short tempered as Ginny was when stressed.
"It's… true love's kiss to wake the sleeper?," Ginny said, flushing to the roots of her hair. "That's a Wizarding thing that even Muggles have stories about, right? Only it's not just fantasy for us--that's a real spell and a real solution."
Hermione felt herself flushing a little too as she realized, suddenly, another reason why she might have been fetched. "You don't think they think that either of us could be..."
Ron looked perturbed. "Then what am I here for? Harry's my best mate but I'm never snogging him."
They all looked at each other and then burst out laughing.
"Well, really!" Madam Pomfrey bustled over, looking indignant. "You shouldn't be making so much noise around a patient. Mr. Potter is sleeping."
"And you can't wake him up," Ginny snapped, all laughter gone in the blink of an eye. "So why shouldn't we make noise? Maybe it'll help more than all the spells you're tossing around."
"Miss Weasley," Professor Snape's voice was low and ominous, "I suggest you stop talking unless you wish Gryffindor to start the coming year with negative points."
Ginny glared, her brown eyes bright. Ron shifted, lowering his hands. "She's got a point, though, Professors, Madam Pomfrey. If Harry can't be woken up, then our making noise isn't going to make much of a difference either way, right?"
Hermione swallowed the urge to gasp at Ron and Ginny's daring. "Please," she said, "we just want to help. If Harry hears us, maybe he'll come back, if we're laughing."
The three adults exchanged glances. Madam Pomfrey won what looked like a silent war in no more than a minute, though it felt like longer, and she stepped forward. "You three," she said, "out. We should have realized that you need your sleep and we'll finish our testing while you get some rest. Head on up to your dorm."
"There's no password right now," Ron said indignantly. "How're we supposed to get in?"
"The password is," here she grimaced, "Lethifold. Hagrid picked it. Tasteless, but that man… Go on now, get some sleep."
Grumbling but unwilling to push their luck further with Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape present, they went.
Later that morning, as early as the three of them dared to brave the wrath of Madam Pomfrey, found Ginny, Ron, and Hermione slipping down empty halls, heading to infirmary to visit with Harry again.
"Since when do you call He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named You-Know-Who?" Ron asked her as they walked down corridors. "You're the one that was getting on my case last year about not doing the same."
Hermione flushed.
"That's right," Ginny said, tilting her head. "Last night you were definitely using You-Know-Who."
"You'll tease," Hermione said quickly, hoping they would drop it. No such luck, of course.
"Now you have to tell us," Ron said with satisfaction. "Or you'll never get any peace."
She raised her chin, aware that her cheeks were red, and gave serious thought to ignoring the both of them. "It feels weird," Hermione said, after deciding that honesty was better in this case, "to do it when Harry's not around. He's much braver than I am."
Neither Ron nor Ginny laughed at that. On reflection, she supposed it wasn't such a laughing matter.
As they stepped into the infirmary, they froze, like they'd been hit with a Stunner, only no spell had been cast. Instead, they found Professor Dumbledore leaning over Harry, staring intently at his face.
Professor Snape noticed them first--Madam Pomfrey tutting as she bustled around cleaning up used vials and potions that had been taken from the cabinets and then decided against, and Professor Dumbledore did not bother to look their way. "Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, Miss Weasley," he said, his voice as sharp as ever. Hermione took heart from the fact that it wasn't sharper. "As you can see, the Headmaster has taken it upon himself to inspect Mr. Potter's mind."
"Why not you?" Ron blurted.
Hermione elbowed him. "Because of You-Know-Who," she said quietly. "Professor Snape can't be seen in there and they don't know what sort of traps might be present."
"Professor Snape," Ginny asked bravely, having made her way closer to the bed. "Why do you think You-Know-Who put Harry to sleep? We were thinking about it last night but it doesn't make sense to us. If he could put a curse on him, wouldn't he use something that would kill Harry?"
"Well-reasoned, Miss Weasley," Professor Snape said, sounding weary. "As for why sleep, our investigations have given us a few unsettling clues as to what the reasoning might be. This spell will kill Mr. Potter eventually. It works slowly, it will be a matter of weeks, perhaps even months, before any symptoms of worse than sleep begin to show, but if he cannot be woken then yes, eventually he will die."
Ginny went white. Ron sat down heavily in a chair and Hermione felt dizzy enough that she did the same. She was sure she looked no better than either of them. It was one thing to know that Harry was constantly in danger--hard to bear, yes, but he'd always managed to escape before--but now, to hear that if he didn't wake up, he'd just... one day not be there.
"Professor Snape," Hermione said, "are we allowed to know what the other unsettling clues are?"
To her surprise, Snape glanced at the Headmaster, who was still engrossed in investigating Harry's mind. She shifted, uncomfortable to realize that part of her would have rathered it be Snape doing that job. Snape, at least, would not stay there longer than he had to.
Don't be silly, she told herself, Professor Dumbledore wouldn't hurt Harry.
"The Headmaster has indicated that he would prefer as few people to know as possible," Professor Snape began, "but I'm afraid in this case I disagree with him. You are Mr. Potter's... friends..." his voice twisted the word into something uncomfortable, "and may be able to shed some light on one of the things we discovered."
"What is it, then?"
"All indications we have are that the reason the curse could take hold was because Mr. Potter willingly accepted it."
Ginny gasped, Ron flinched backwards, and Hermione squeezed her eyes shut in horror. Harry accept a curse that would eventually kill him? But why? Why would he do something like that?
"You're wrong," Ginny said sharply, a tremble in her voice. "Why would he do that? He's a hero! Harry would never!"
"Never, Miss Weasley, is a very long time."
She recoiled, as if struck, from the silky venom in Professor Snape's voice. "It's just," Ginny said, her eyes huge, "it's just hard to understand. Even with everything... he's never just..."
"It's possible," Professor Snape conceded, "that he did not know what he was accepting. He may have thought it was his own thoughts, telling him to sleep, and we've all had that sort of thought before. That would count as permission."
Hermione felt like she was going to be ill. From the expression on Ron's face, he didn't feel much better. Ginny looked splotchy, equal parts flushed and pale, and near tears.
The Headmaster sighed and stirred, standing up carefully and then glancing at the rest of them without surprise. I wonder, Hermione thought, if he knew we were here or if he's just good at hiding his expression?
"What about Harry?" Ron asked. "What did you find, Professor?"
"He's dreaming," Professor Dumbledore said, sounding weary. "Dreaming of a different life, one where he's happy. I could not make my voice reach him, no matter how I tried."
They were all silent for a long moment.
"Do you... do you know of any curse that does that?" Hermione asked tentatively.
"No, Miss Granger," Professor Dumbledore said, looking grave. "I suspect we will be doing a great deal of research before we come close to solving this."
She raised her chin. "We're helping," Hermione said determinedly. "We're good at research." Really, she had no idea how good Ginny was at it, and Ron was usually indifferent but she was good at it and there was no way, not right now, that she was going to say that and have them, perhaps, keep her and send the others off.
Hermione did not think they would go, in any case.
Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, a little of the kindly grandfather back in his demeanor. "That is indeed one of the reasons we've summoned you to Hogwarts. You will be staying with the Order until the end of the summer or until Harry is cured. Whichever comes first."
"Where will we be staying?" Ron asked. "Dad said that Sirius' place is no good anymore."
"Your father is right. As for where you'll be staying, there are several different places…"
Summer passed in a gloom of libraries and unfamiliar houses and constant, aching worry for Harry. Ginny threw herself into researching like it was her life that depended on it and Ron and Hermione were not much behind her.
Harry, after all, was important to them all. And Ron, Hermione noticed, with a suppressed smile, did not mention Dean to Ginny again.
Hermione Granger poured over a multitude of books with no intention of leaving off any time soon. Her homework was done, had been since the first few days of the summer, but her days were still consumed with a different sort of problem. A very Harry sort of problem, she thought miserably. Across the table from her, Ron and Ginny poured over books with the same intensity that she'd been devoting.
She didn't ask if they'd completed their summer homework. She doubted it and while it would be comforting to nag at them, Hermione thought that it would be nothing but cruel. And this was far more important.
"I've nothing in this selection," she said, her voice a whisper in the hushed quiet of the library. A few desks away, Professor Lupin (who she was unable to think of as anything else despite the fact that he'd not taught for nearly three years now), Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape poured over books that they had declared off-limits to the students.
She shivered. Dark Arts books. Hermione bit her lip as Ron's shoulders slumped and Ginny echoed his tired sigh. We're not getting anywhere.
"This is rubbish," Ginny said scornfully, casting a glance at the teachers and lowering her voice even further. "They're the ones that have the better books for this."
Ron grimaced in agreement. "Do they think we haven't dealt with..." he faltered and then continued, "Harry's problems before? And you, Hermione, what are they doing keeping you from those? You know how to find things better than any of us."
She flushed slightly. "Don't," she said, "don't start that argument with them again. Especially not with Snape right there. He'll take off every point Gryffindor gets for the year if you do." She didn't care about the points. From the mutinous expression on Ron's face, he didn't either. This was about what was best for Harry. "And besides," Hermione added quickly, "they can't keep me from them forever. All they said was that we had to be of age, right?"
"And you're seventeen in a month," Ginny hissed, "which is great but what if Harry dies before that?"
"Ginny, don't." Ron raked his hands wearily through his hair. He was far paler than usual after a summer, thanks to spending the majority of his time inside rather than outside in the sun. "She's trying to help. We're all trying to help."
Hermione swallowed her retort. Ginny was short-tempered at the best of times and I, I am no better, Hermione thought ruefully. Especially not when I wonder if she doesn't have a point. "Come on," she said abruptly, and stood. "Let's get more books and then sit outside. Maybe we'll think better if we're in fresher air."
They both eyed her for a moment, equal expressions of doubt on their faces, but long friendship meant that when she gathered up her books to put back, they did the same.
Each of them took a new armload of books and trooped out of the library.
"Sitting outside isn't going to help us," Ron said.
"It might improve our moods," Hermione said, glancing sharply at the portraits that were watching them.
"Maybe," Ginny said thoughtfully, "what we need is a new perspective on this. I still think we should have asked Luna to come to school early. She's top of my year for all that she's up in the clouds a lot."
Hermione bit her tongue and carefully didn't say her first retort. "Professor Dumbledore thought it best that the number of people who were in the know was kept as small as possible."
"I know," Ginny said, annoyed, "but I'm just saying."
Ron sighed.
Hogwarts in the summer, Hermione thought as they all three lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, was gorgeous. They hadn't been at the castle for most of the summer, having been shuffled between a grimy old manor that the Headmaster had said had been given to him and promptly forgotten years ago and other houses of similarly murky pasts. She doubted the veracity of any of the stories they'd been told and yet barely cared.
A few of the Professors had been in and out of Grimmauld Place since Sirius had died but without Harry awake and able to take over the magical inheritance of the house and Kreacher, they didn't dare stay there. Not when at this delicate junction, Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy had equal claim to the house.
And Andromeda Tonks had slammed the door in the Headmaster's face when he'd come to talk to her. Hermione wondered why. Tonks had been tight-lipped and grim when she'd come back from seeing her mother, the Headmaster in tow, and it had unsettled them enough that she didn't think anyone had dared to ask what had gone wrong.
Everything is going wrong this summer, she thought, wishing idly one of her hands was free so that she could tuck her hair properly back behind her ears. And we're the lucky ones.
The Daily Prophet and The Quibbler both were painting grim pictures of exactly what You-Know-Who had been up to during the summer months. So many people missing. So many questions left unanswered. Key amongst them was why, of course, but more pressingly and more frighteningly was how was he managing the kidnappings? Some of the homes that people had disappeared from were incredibly well warded.
But they had no answers to that either.
Outside was almost blinding after days and days of being inside with dusty books and heavy tables. The grass as brilliant as Harry's eyes and the sky an almost painful blue. The sun turned Ron and Ginny's hair the colour of molten copper and washed away some of the tension in their faces.
Despite herself, she could feel the warmth doing the same to her.
"So," Ron said, once they'd settled under a tree, "did you have an idea or are we really out here because you think it'd be better for us?"
She smiled wanly. "A little from column A and a little from column B."
"What's this idea?" Ginny asked, sorting through the books they'd brought and pulling one from the pile at random to flip through it.
"Well," she said, tucking her legs underneath her, "I think it's interesting that no one has been able to find anything about this curse, even though we've spent two months searching for it."
"There's a lot more than two months' worth of Dark curses in the world," Ron pointed out, like he was reluctant to do so. He rubbed at the scars the brains from the Department of Mysteries had left on his arms like they pained him. "And You-Know-Who spent decades travelling the world. Who knows where he picked it up?" Ron moodily plucked at some grass. "Or even invented it," he added. "That's possible too."
She had to concede it was.
"I can't shake the idea that we're looking in the wrong place though," Hermione continued doggedly. "Everything we've looked at has had death as the main result of the curse."
"That's what's going to happen," Ginny said with the air of one readying herself for an argument. "Why wouldn't You-Know-Who have used a curse like that?"
"I know," Hermione said impatiently, "but that's the thing. He knows all sorts of curses--why would he pick one that doesn't kill Harry quicker?"
"Are you mental?" Ron yelped. "We don't want him to kill Harry quicker!"
"I never said I did either," Hermione snapped. "But why wouldn't You-Know-Who want that?
None of them had any response to that and an uncomfortable silence settled around them.
Three days until the end of summer vacation.
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