Truths of the Heart

Hermione had turned down Ginny and Harry's offer to stay with them, choosing instead to spend the night alone at the cottage despite their baffled looks. She had been waiting for Snape, on the living-room couch where she had succumbed to sleep several hours earlier, when he arrived early that morning carrying his broom in one arm and cradling a cauldron filled with an assortment of potion ingredients, a couple of books, and her few personal items (including the photograph of her daughter that she usually kept by her bedside) in the other.

The news that Snape had brought back was unnerving, but Hermione was secretly relieved that he had returned at all. An impromptu meeting had been, called and they had spent the better part of the morning discussing the pros and cons of the latest developments. The fact that Voldemort could no longer count on the loyal support of the same pure-bloods who had driven him to power was positive news, but Voldemort was the evil they knew, and they had little idea what to expect from this new foe. The Knights of Domitian's activities could prove to be an effective diversion behind which to conceal their own activities, but at the same time their reckless attacks could draw attention to what had until that time been a discreet and secretive operation. In the end, the only thing that they had all agreed on was that they didn't have enough information and would have to wait until after Snape's rendezvous with Draco before they could decide on an appropriate course of action.

After the meeting, Snape had set about quietly brewing potions in the kitchen while Hermione prepared their lunch from the supplies that Molly had provided the previous day. There was a certain feeling of domesticity about those activities that Hermione found both comforting and unsettling.

Hermione cast furtive glances in Snape's direction as she scraped the remnants of their lunch from the plates.

"Miss Granger."

Hermione looked up from the sink full of dishes at the mention of her name.

"I believe that your time could be better invested in other ways."

Snape was placing several vials of potions into a small pouch.

Hermione smiled. "I don't mind. I grew up in a Muggle household; washing dishes without the aid of magic is not exactly new to me," she pointed out.

"What I meant is that there is something more important that requires your attention – if you will come with me."

Her curiosity aroused, Hermione dried her hands, donned her cloak and followed Snape out of the house.

The town was somewhat larger than Hermione had first imagined. For a while she and Snape treaded through winding, unpaved roads lined with snow-dusted cottages. The back roads were mostly quiet, but once they reached the center of town, Hermione found herself amidst a bustle of activity. The buildings were much larger here, and she was surprised to discover that some of them were shops. Witches and wizards clad in heavy cloaks shuffled through the fresh snow as they went about their business, some with young children tottering along. It was an oasis of normalcy in a world turned upside-down by war.

"How many people live here?" she asked Snape.

"Last count nearly six-hundred. Kingsley would have the exact figure; he keeps track of all new arrivals," Snape answered as he continued to walk stiffly beside her.

"Six-hundred!" Hermione was stunned by the figure – she had expected a far lesser number.

Snape didn't seem so impressed. "Only about two-hundred-and-fifty are able-bodied witches and wizards – the rest are crippled, too young or too old for battle. There are also a few Muggles."

Hermione stopped short. "Muggles?"

Snape nodded. "Many of the residents are Muggleborns; some brought relatives along when they fled."

The thought of her own parents assaulted Hermione.

"My parents were in Australia when it happened," she said tentatively.

"They still are," Snape informed her.

Hermione's eyes grew wide – she had hoped that her charms had held, but always harbored the fear that they had not.

"Harry told us what you had done – very clever of you. Kingsley checks on them occasionally, but we deemed it kinder to them not to remove the charms just yet, given our precarious circumstances."

Words couldn't express Hermione's gratitude, and she smiled.

"Where are we going?" she asked Snape, her enthusiasm boosted by the knowledge that her parents were alive and well.

"You need a wand, Miss Granger," Snape stated calmly.

"A wand?"

"That is what I said. Every able-bodied witch and wizard in town over the age of ten is required to carry a wand at all times and to have at least a rudimentary knowledge of how to use it. Kingsley would find me remiss if I failed to provide you with these."

"Kingsley?" she asked.

Snape nodded. "He is in charge of law enforcement in the village, leads the informal Auror training program," Snape responded, a bit out of breath.

"And there is a wand maker here?"

"Obviously. How else would we procure a wand for you?" Snape's tone was clipped, but Hermione suspected that his brusqueness was caused, not by annoyance at the inanity of her questions, but by physical discomfort, and she slowed down her steps.

They reached a two-story, corner building. "We are here," Snape announced.

The interior of the building was small, dusty and dimly lit. Hermione could see several rows of neatly stacked, rectangular boxes behind the massive and intricately carved wooden counter that seemed out of place. Her heart skipped a beat; soon one of those wands would be hers, and only hers.

"I'll be right there!" a voice called from the top of the spiral staircase.

A tall and lanky man ambled down the steps. His height was impressive, his hands the size of saucers – had it not been for his incongruously thin frame, he would have reminded Hermione of Hagrid.

"What can I do for you this fine morning?" the man asked in a voice that boomed inside the room despite its amiable tone.

"Miss Granger needs a wand," Snape informed him.

"Well, of course she does!" the man said, studying Hermione. "I take it this isn't your first wand," he said after a moment.

Hermione shook her head. "The first one was vine wood with a dragon heartstring core, but it's gone now."

The man squeezed behind the counter and began to look through the shelves. "Well, not much vine wood around these parts, but plenty of dragon hearts." He opened several boxes and discarded each one in turn. "No. No. Hum... no."

Impatience and excitement were eating away at Hermione; she had the most irrational urge to grab the nearest box and start trying out wands one by one, but her good sense and manners prevailed. Finally, the man produced a golden wand and placed it in her hand. A tingle spread through Hermione's fingers, and she knew even before she cast the Engorgio charm that it was the right one.

The man clapped his hands with the delight of a child. "Aha! I was right! Yew, 12 1/2 inches, dragon heartstring!" he declared.

The wand was beautiful – light gold with a buttery smooth surface and delicate carvings on the handle. Hermione twirled the wand thoughtfully between her fingers – until that moment, she had not considered the matter of payment. Snape stepped forward and pulled the wand-maker aside. After a brief discussion, Snape handed over the pouch filled with potions. The man nodded, smiled, and showed them to the door.

"I'll pay for it. I'll find something I can do around here to earn money, and I'll pay for it," she muttered just outside the door, unable to take her eyes away from the wand.

"No need, Miss Granger. Currency doesn't have much use around here. Ivan suffers from a multitude of aches and pains brought on by his medical condition; I brewed a few potions that should help alleviate the symptoms, and he is quite satisfied," Snape informed her.

"Is he very ill?" Hermione asked.

"Not exactly. The way I understand it, it is a condition from which he has suffered from birth; it accounts for his above average height."

Hermione nodded. She had once read something about Gigantism in a Muggle medical text her parents kept, and she knew enough about magical creatures to understand that despite its name, the condition was not related to Giant ancestry, but to a malfunction of the pituitary gland in otherwise perfectly average humans.

Hermione smiled, threw her arms around Snape's torso and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered against the side of his face. She felt his body stiffen in her arms.

"Hermione!"

Hermione turned around to see Ginny trotting towards them through the snow.

"I've been looking for you. I see you got a wand! Harry told me to make sure you did. Come on, you have a lot of practicing to do if you're going to catch up to me!"

Ginny pulled insistently on Hermione's hand, but Hermione's legs refused to move. She cast an uncertain glance in Snape's direction.

"We were just on our way to go find you, Miss Weasely. I assumed you wanted to begin practice sessions with Miss Granger right away," Snape said in a soft, even tone that sounded almost cordial.

"I thought you would be teaching me," Hermione interjected.

Surely Snape was a more qualified instructor than Ginny. Hermione loved her friend, but she had a hard time picturing her as a competent, or even serious, teacher.

"I have other responsibilities to fulfill. The full moon is only a week away, and I have to brew enough Wolfsbane potion for the dozen or so werewolves who reside in the village, including Lupin and his family," Snape explained.

Hermione tried not to let her disappointment show for the sake of her friend. "I'll be home by supper time," she informed Snape, but the wizard was already walking away.

"Come on, I know the perfect spot!" Ginny exclaimed, practically dragging Hermione in the opposite direction.

~*~

"You just have to concentrate harder, Hermione." Hermione heard Ginny say, just as the silver mist in front of her dissipated into thin air.

The past two days had been an exercise in both triumph and determination. Ginny had proven to be a far more successful teacher than Hermione had anticipated; whether that was due to Ginny's skills or Hermione's resolve was hard to tell, but in the past forty-eight hours Hermione had mastered several spells far more complex than anything she had learned at Hogwarts. She could now cast a barrier strong enough to block hexes and jinxes, and she had come up with what Ginny thought was quite an ingenious way to turn a chunk of ice into a temporary key. Yet, the ability to produce a fully formed Patronus eluded her. No matter what memory she used, all attempts to produce a Patronus more substantial than a silver blob had been in vain. The once happy memories of her younger years were now nothing more than reminders of all she had lost.

The sun was quickly setting in the horizon, and Hermione returned her wand to the sleeve of her robes.

"I think we've done enough for today," she said.

Ginny shrugged. "We still have at least another half-hour of sunlight left, and we can light some torches afterwards if you want."

The truth was that Hermione missed Snape. Between her lessons with Ginny, Snape's brewing, and Lupin and Kingsley's constant demands on Snape's attention, the two had barely spoken, and the following day he would be leaving for his meeting with Draco.

"I have to prepare dinner," Hermione lied.

"Mum cooks for Harry and I; you could join us!"

"That sounds lovely, Ginny, it really does. But I would still like to rest before dinner time."

Ginny's smile disappeared, and a stern look took its place.

"It's him, isn't it?" she asked.

"Who?"

"Snape. People are talking, Hermione."

Hermione had started walking in the direction of her cottage, and Ginny fell into step next to her, seemingly unwilling to drop the subject.

"Talking about what?" Hermione asked in spite of herself.

"About you and Snape, about how you're still living with him even though we've all offered you a place to stay, about how you change the subject every time we ask about the time you spent with him before coming here."

"I don't want to be a burden to anyone. There was only one empty cottage in the village – Snape and I are the new arrivals, so it makes sense that we should share it. And I've already told you everything about Snape's house and the attack that brought us here – what else is there to tell?"

"I saw you kiss him in front of Ivan's store," Ginny blurted out.

Hermione was moved by the concern she saw on her friend's face. They were standing a few yards outside of the town, near a wooded area, and Hermione dragged Ginny behind the thick trunk of a massive pine tree.

"I'm pregnant, and Snape is the father," she stated calmly.

Ginny blanched. "Shit! Hermione, did he... did he force you?" Ginny whispered, her eyes wide.

"No. I agreed to sleep with him, and he's treated me well, even risked his own life to save mine."

"Are you in love with him?" Ginny asked, her expression making it plain that she found the possibility even more appalling than the news of Hermione's pregnancy.

"I can't answer that," Hermione stated truthfully. "Everything just happened too fast. But you don't need to worry about me; he hasn't hurt me, and I don't believe he will."

Ginny didn't seem convinced. "Hermione, Snape is a spy – lies and deception come as natural to him as breathing. Are you sure he didn't, you know, maybe trick you into sleeping with him?"

"Maybe at first, but not after. After the second time, I wanted to be with him."

Ginny frowned and looked as if she was about to protest, when Hermione spotted Harry walking towards them.

"I'll explain more later," Hermione whispered loud enough for only Ginny to hear as she waved at Harry.

"Hello, Harry!" Hermione called out.

Harry kissed Ginny on the lips and gave Hermione a peck on the cheek. "I hope Ginny isn't working you too hard; she can be a bit of a dictator," Harry said with a wide grin and a wink.

Ginny responded by elbowing him on the ribs. "Am not!" she protested.

"I think I can hold my own in that department," Hermione joked.

Harry winced dramatically. "Yeah, I forgot about that."

It was at times like these that Hermione was able to glimpse the way things had been, and the feeling was almost painful.

"Molly sent me to find you," Harry said to Ginny. "She said she knows you've been using your sessions with Hermione as an excuse to avoid your chores, and that she will no longer tolerate it."

Ginny rolled her eyes. The three parted ways as they entered the town. Ginny cast a concerned glance in Hermione's direction as she walked away hand-in-hand with Harry, heading toward the house they shared with Molly and Charlie; Hermione continued walking in the direction of her cottage.

~*~

Hermione watched from the bed as Snape donned his robes. The day had dawned cold and dreary; they had made love in the dim light of the early morning, and again in the cramped, rustic bathroom before returning to bed.

Now it was almost time for Snape to leave for his meeting with Draco, and a dark cloud settled over Hermione's heart.

"I have a bad feeling about this," she commented from the bed. She was propped up on the pillows, arms crossed over her chest in a gesture of determination.

"I shan't be long; you'll be safe here until my return. How are your practice sessions with Miss Weasely coming along?"

The question was a diversionary tactic, Hermione knew. Snape had not inquired as to her progress until that moment.

"I still can't produce a Patronus," she informed him.

Snape frowned at this, but did not comment.

How could she explain to him that it wasn't her safety she was concerned about but his? How could she make him understand that the thought of never seeing him again made her heart constrict and her eyes grow damp, when she couldn't understand it herself?

"Take Harry with you," she suggested.

"To Malfoy Manor? Have you taken complete leave of your senses, woman? Do you have any idea of what would happen if the Dark Lord gets so much as an inkling that Potter is still alive?"

"Then take Remus."

"We need Remus to continue to have access to the Ministry, and he is the only connection we'll have left if something should happen to me. We can't risk both of us getting captured together."

Snape's calm and condescending tone was infuriating.

"Then take someone else – just don't go alone!"

"Draco would become suspicious if I were to show up with a stranger; he might not talk."

"You can't trust Draco."

"Under any other circumstances, I would not. But I know in this instance that he wants to make amends to his father; for that reason alone I trust him."

She was about to let Snape know, in no uncertain terms, that as far as she was concerned both Draco and his father could go fuck themselves, when a loud crash from the living-room startled them both, and Snape swiftly reached for his wand.

Harry's voice rang from somewhere inside the house. "Snape!"

Hermione frowned, and Snape gritted his teeth and muttered something Hermione couldn't understand but was certain was nothing pleasant. He stalked out of the room; Hermione reached for her robes to follow him.

She found the two wizards facing each other across the living room, wands drawn, their expressions angry.

"You son of a bitch! We trusted you with her!" Harry yelled, his face red with fury.

"You didn't even know where she was until I told you!" Snape spat.

"You were supposed to keep her safe and bring her to us; instead, you took advantage of her. I knew you couldn't be trusted."

"Wait!" Hermione yelled, but neither wizard was paying attention to her. She jumped in front of Snape and extended her hands imploringly towards Harry.

At that moment, Ginny ran in with Remus and Molly in tow, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. The three surrounded Harry, their wands drawn.

"Harry, stop!" Ginny yelled, stomping her foot on the floor, but Harry's grip visibly tightened around his wand, and he refused to lower it.

"Miss Granger and I have an understanding," Snape said through gritted teeth.

Harry's eyes met Hermione's, and he seemed to realize for the first time that his wand was no longer pointed at Snape, but at her chest instead. He slowly lowered his arm, but his stance didn't otherwise change.

"Ginny told me you're pregnant. Is it true?" Harry asked.

Hermione's eyes shifted to Ginny. "You told him?" Hermione asked in disbelief.

Ginny looked contrite, but not enough to admit wrongdoing. "We are worried about you, Hermione! Harry was wondering why you would choose to live here with him instead of with us. It's not right – he was supposed to protect you."

"He did!" Hermione argued.

"What did he do? Threaten you? Blackmail you?" Harry asked angrily.

Hermione thought about it. Had Snape ever threatened to send her into exile? She carefully went over their conversations in her mind – no, he had never threatened her, only allowed her to believe that which she had been so ready to believe about him.

"No. He didn't threaten me, and he didn't blackmail me either."

"Then what was it: a spell, a potion?" Harry pressed on.

The avid expressions on the others' faces told her that they were as curious about her relationship with Snape as Harry was, although not as willing to share their concerns.

"It's none of your business, Potter!" Snape hissed from behind her, and Harry made to step around her before Remus restrained him.

"Enough!" Hermione yelled.

Everyone stared at her wide-eyed, and Hermione squared her shoulders and raised her chin.

"Harry, I understand and appreciate your concern, but Snape is right; my pregnancy and how it came about is none of your business. The same goes for the rest of you. I don't want to hear another word on the matter unless I bring it up. Is that understood?"

Molly nodded, and Remus smiled and shrugged his shoulders, but Harry and Ginny still seemed unconvinced.

"You heard the lady; put them away, boys," Molly announced and wrapped a loving but stiff arm around Ginny's shoulders.

"You too, Ginny," she added.

When all the wands were put away, Molly smiled and patted Harry on the back.

"Well, glad that's settled. Now I best get home; I think I left something on the stove. Remus, didn't you have something you wanted to show Harry?"

Remus looked confused for a moment before he seemed to catch on. "Oh, yes. Yes. I need you to take a look at my broom, Harry, if you don't mind. It seems to be pulling a little to the left."

"Come along, dear," Molly said as she guided a reluctant Ginny toward the door.

Remus wrapped an arm around Harry's shoulders and did likewise with Harry.

"This isn't over – you're going to pay for this, Snape!" Harry spat over his shoulder as he allowed Remus to pull him away and shut the door behind them.

The moment the door closed, Snape grabbed hold of Hermione's arm and spun her around.

"Never again step in front of me like that when I have a wand pointed at me!" he hissed into her face.

Hermione wrenched her arm away and took a step back. "You're welcome. Harry wouldn't have hexed me, anyway."

"He might not have meant to do it, but it could have happened!"

"Then maybe next time, I'll let him hex you!"

"I can hold my own against Potter."

"Maybe. And maybe you wouldn't have to if you had done the right thing!"

"Are you saying his actions were justified?"

"I'm saying that they were understandable under the circumstances."

Snape's face twisted with rage, and an unbecoming, pink tint colored his cheeks.

"I did everything I could!" he spat. "I watched over you, used my contacts inside the Ministry to keep informed about your status! I made sure you were placed in the best homes where you were least likely to be mistreated! For five years I followed your every move, and when I found out that you had been slated for banishment despite my best efforts..."

Snape suddenly stopped yelling, and Hermione could do nothing but stare agape at him. She knew he had not meant to say so much, and he looked horrified by his own confessions.

"And when you found out I had been slated for banishment – what?" Hermione asked when at last she found her voice.

Snape looked both defeated and as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "I went to the Ministry and petitioned Lucius for a hand-witch," he said softly, his eyes averted.

"You asked Lucius for me?" she asked incredulously.

"I didn't have to – he offered you to me – but I would have if it had come to that."

"But – but when I got to your house, you said you didn't want me."

"Wishington was there – I'd rather Lucius didn't think I was too eager to save your life, but at the same time, I couldn't pretend not to know who you were in case Lucius was already aware of your identity."

Snape said no more – his eyes studied her as if he were trying to decipher her reaction.

Ginny had been right; Snape was a master at deception, worse than Hermione had known. She hadn't just been available; he had targeted her. He had lain in wait, watching her like a predator does its prey, and then pounced when she was at her most vulnerable. Her eyes filled with tears, and the words caught in her throat.

"All those years... why didn't you contact me, let me know?"

"We couldn't rescue you then, and we all agreed that it was best you didn't know of our existence. It was too great a risk should you be interrogated for whatever reason and..." Snape hesitated. "After two years in one of the Dark Lord's re-education camps, we had to make certain you could still be trusted," he stated coldly.

Hermione could understand taking precautions to protect the knowledge of their existence, even if it had been at her expense, but to know that her friends, those she believed knew her best, could think her untrustworthy, was like a knife-wound to the heart.

"And even if I couldn't be trusted, I was still good enough for you to use."

"No! During the years I spent watching over you, I grew to realize what an exceptional witch you are. When I realized I had no other recourse but to bring you into my home – I just hoped that perhaps, out of gratitude..." Snape seemed to have given up on trying to offer an explanation. "I'm sorry," he concluded.

An unbearable pressure built inside her chest and threatened to erupt – she didn't want him to see her cry. Hermione ran into the bedroom and slammed the door shut behind her, dissolving into sobs.

It was only when the house grew quiet that she realized Snape had left for his meeting with Draco, and she hadn't said goodbye.

Hermione knew that Snape was supposed to meet Draco at sunset, and she didn't expect him back that night, but when he had not returned by morning, she began to grow concerned.

She paced around the house, and when the walls began to close in on her, she went out into the frigid morning to take a walk down by the lake where she and Ginny had held their practice sessions.

She sat on a rock by the lake, heedless of the bone-chilling cold or the dampness that seeped through her wool cloak. She was angry – angry at Snape for not being honest with her, angry at herself for not being able to forgive him, and angry at the others for not minding their own business.

She looked up when a shadow appeared next to her. Remus took a seat on a nearby rock and for a long time said nothing; he only stared out at the frozen lake.

"Hermione, I feel I need to talk to you," he said hoarsely after a while.

"Have you heard from Snape?" she quickly asked.

Remus shook his head. "No, it's not about Snape; it's about Veera."

Hermione's head whipped around to look at Remus.

"Is she alright?" In the short time she had known her, Hermione had grown fond of the unassuming woman and her vivacious son.

"She is not ill or in danger if that's what you're asking, but I don't know if she will ever be alright," Remus answered.

Hermione frowned. "What do you mean?"

"After Tonks died and we lost the war, I was numb for a long time. I was spending most of my time with Fenrir's pack, in the service of the Dark Lord."

"But you were a spy; you really weren't one of them," Hermione quickly pointed out.

"For all intents and purposes, I was. Someone who hasn't lived through it probably wouldn't understand – the things I've seen, the things I've had to do – it changes a person, does something to the soul. I kept searching for some meaning, some way to make sense of it all.

"One full moon, the pack came across this small cabin in the woods with a family inside. The wards were weak, and we had no trouble getting inside. Fenrir killed the husband, but he kept the wife and child, bit them and dragged them back to the den with us."

"Veera and Gavril?" Hermione asked, already suspecting the answer.

Remus nodded. "Veera was Fenrir's slave; Gavril was forced to stand by while he and the others raped, beat and humiliated his mother on a daily basis, and he wasn't faring much better. He was very young then, so I don't know how much he remembers."

"But you didn't – abuse them, I mean." Hermione knew Remus, knew that the werewolf was too gentle to ever participate in the atrocities he was describing.

"No. But I was attracted to Veera; I wanted her in the carnal sense – just not like that.

"A month later, Fenrir, some of the others and I came across another pack of werewolves deep inside our territory. I killed three of them that night – didn't know any of them, didn't have any quarrel with them other than that they had crossed into what Fenrir considered his territory, which honestly I couldn't have cared a fuck less about."

Hermione frowned. "Then why did you do it?"

"Because I wanted Veera, and I knew that if I pleased Fenrir by distinguishing myself in the fight, he would give her to me if I asked."

"So you did it for her – you rescued her."

"Did I? Some would argue that she went from being Fenrir's slave to becoming mine. Here, she is her own woman, free to do as she pleases, but out there, in the Dark Lord's world, she is my property, mine to do with as I please. And in the eyes of some, that's all she'll ever be."

"But you would have never..."

"Taken pleasure from her body?" Remus raised an eyebrow. "I'm a man, Hermione, not a Muggle saint."

Hermione could feel her cheeks grow warm. "I was going to say hurt her."

Remus' eyes softened. "No, I would never hurt her, nor would I allow any harm to come to her or her son, even if it meant giving up my own life to protect them. For me, Veera and Gavril became that which I had been searching for – my reason for being."

"She seems happy with you," Hermione admitted.

"I think content would be a more apt description. We've both found comfort in each other, a reason to live – and love."

"Love?" Hermione asked.

Remus smiled. "Yes, Hermione. Ours is a love story." Remus stood and dusted the snow from his cloak. "And like with all love stories, it makes no difference how the story begins – only how it ends."

Remus started to walk away but seemed to reconsider. "Sometimes, it just takes a little bit of forgiveness," he said before continuing on his way.

"Remus," Hermione called out.

The werewolf paused and turned to look at her.

Hermione smiled. "I know Veera is going to be alright – because she has you."

Remus beamed – a warm, sincere smile that could have melted the icecap on the lake.

Hermione saw it then, out of the corner of her eye – a small, silver shape gliding over the snow.

"What is that?" she asked Remus.

As it came closer, the shape became more distinct – a silver fox trotted in their direction.

"It's a Patronus," Remus answered, his eyes following the silver shape.

Hermione wasn't familiar with anyone's Patronus except Harry's. "Whose?"

"I don't know," Remus said, and Hermione felt the wizard tense next to her.

The fox came to a stop in front of Remus, and when it opened its mouth, Hermione was surprised to hear Snape's breathless voice:

"I'm surrounded by the Dark Lord's soldiers – capture is imminent.

Coup d'etat at the Throne Room two nights hence;

Ministry must not be allowed to fall into the wrong hands.

Please take care of Hermione for me."

The fox disappeared, and Remus was bounding across the snow-covered ground before Hermione had a chance to react. As she ran after him, she watched the wizard take out his wand and aim it up at the sky, shooting three volleys of red sparks into the air. By the time they reached the Town Hall, a crowd had already started to gather there.