Hermione's Task

Phoenix Tears, Chapter Twenty-Two : Hermione's Task

DISCLAIMER : The characters and many of the situations described in this story are the property of the incomparable J.K. Rowling. I make no money from this story, which exists as a work of tribute. Dialogue marked with an asterisk is quoted from the original HP stories.

Let me thank my two brilliant betas: LAxo and WriterMerrin, who have, as always, my deepest thanks!

---

As Hermione clambered back through the tunnel, her mind raced. The events of the last few hours tumbled through her memories in a confusing and far from logical order: Snape...lying in a pool of his own blood, Fred's death, Crabbe's death, the Chamber of Secrets, her shared kiss with Ron, the Fiendfyre, Fenrir Greyback attacking Lavender, Draco Malfoy, the mess and noise of the battle.

We need a new plan.

Somehow, she had to get the situation straight; she had to work out what to do next.

The snake. Harry's scar.

They still had two Horcruxes to destroy, and once again, the means for doing so were limited...since the basilisk fangs they'd collected had been destroyed in the Room of Requirement along with everything else.

The fresh air of the Hogwarts grounds came as a relief, and Hermione stopped and drew in several deep breaths. Her brief pause left her jogging after the boys as they hurried towards the stone steps of the main entrance. Everything was eerily silent, and the sky above was pitch black. Not even a sprinkling of stars could be seen. In the thin beams of light cast by their wands, Hermione saw that the smooth grass of the school lawn was torn and damaged. There were lumps scattered around...and with an awful lurch, she realised some of them were bodies.

The Great Doors hung open on their hinges, and she, Ron and Harry hurried up the stone steps and into the entrance hall. Their footsteps crunched across fallen gemstones from the shattered hourglasses, dust, bricks and other debris. There was no-one in sight.

"Where is everyone?"* she whispered.

Ron took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Then he led the way towards the Great Hall; they paused in the doorway.

The tables were gone, and the room was full of people. Those that could stand were clustered in small groups, their arms slung around each other, drawing comfort from the physical proximity of other people. A long line of dead bodies stretched down the centre of the room, and at the far end, up on the platform where the High Table normally stood, Madam Pomfrey was treating the desperately injured.

Without thinking, without knowing what else to do, Hermione walked forward towards the Weasley family. Her arms moved around Ginny, pulling the younger girl to her chest. Over the other girl's shoulder, Hermione stared at Fred's prone and lifeless body, tears rolling down her face.

In a silent and awful choreography, she moved from family member to family member, hugging each in turn.

"Thanks, Hermione," whispered Percy. His glasses were pushed up on his head, and his eyes were red from weeping.

Hermione forced herself to look at the other dead: at Lupin and at Tonks. She thought her heart might burst. As she walked along the long line of bodies, she recognised many of them as friends, others as students. Others, she realised by the mourners who knelt by them or wept over them, were family members, and she thought, suddenly, of her own parents...whisked away to safety almost despite themselves. Not everyone had had that luxury.

At the row's end, she glanced up and met an unexpectedly familiar face. Tracey Davis was seated against the teacher's platform, in obvious pain. Her lips were clenched firmly shut, and there was sweat beaded across her upper lip. Her hands clutched at her abdomen, and there was blood...lots of blood...seeping through her fingers.

"Davis...Tracey!" she exclaimed, falling to her knees beside the other girl. "What's wrong?"

"Slicing Hex," grunted Tracey in reply. She clearly didn't have much energy to talk.

Even before the words were out of Tracey's mouth, Hermione was scrabbling in the beaded bag.

"Accio dittany!" she cried in desperation, gasping in relief when the small bottle flew into her outstretched palm. There wasn't much left, but Hermione poured the entirety of what remained into and over Tracey's wound.

The other girl gasped as her flesh shuddered and then began to knit back together. A minute later, she ran an uncertain hand over the scarred flesh that had so recently gaped open. Tracey swallowed and then looked up at Hermione with an odd expression on her face.

"Thanks," she said at last. Never before had Hermione heard Tracey sound so genuine.

Hermione waved a hand dismissively. "You probably better get Madam Pomfrey to check it still; I'm no mediwitch." Hermione looked around. "Where are the other Slytherins?" she asked.

Tracey's face hardened.

"McGonagall sent them away," she replied. The old, antagonistic edge had returned to her voice.

Hermione's mouth fell open in complete surprise. "Why on earth did she do that?" she asked blankly.

"Why do you think?" responded Tracey. "Because Slytherins are traitors."

"But..." spluttered Hermione, "but...Snape...oh . . ." She trailed off. No-one knew, of course. Just because she and Ron had figured out didn't mean that anyone else had. "How come you're here then?" she asked after a moment.

"Vector pulled me out of the crowd of departing students and told me to do what I wanted to do, not what others thought I should do," replied Tracey with a shrug.

"Vector?" Hermione sat up straight and glanced around once more.

"She's over there somewhere," replied Tracey, gesturing with her head towards the adjacent wall.

"Come on, then," said Hermione with new determination. She held out her hand to Tracey. "If I help you, do you think you can walk?"

Tracey stared at Hermione's hand with a bemused expression. "You're odd for a Gryffindor, you know?" she asked.

Hermione just rolled her eyes and refused to lower her hand. After a second, Tracey took it.

Hermione helped the other girl to her feet and then slung Tracey's arm over her shoulders. With Hermione's arm around Tracey's waist, they lumbered over to the other side of the room. There, they found not only Professor Vector but Viktor, Jocelyn, Dennis Creevey and an unexpectedly large number of other Muggle-born students.

The greetings and hugs took several minutes. Viktor wrapped Hermione tightly with one arm and pressed a kiss to her hairline.

"But," asked Hermione of Vector as soon as she had a chance, "how on earth did you get here?"

"Oh, Viktor made us a Portkey...he's got quite a knack, you know."

"And you knew to come because you'd calculated it?"

"Not exactly. I knew that the confrontation was imminent, but it was Colin and Dennis' contact Galleons that let us know exactly when to turn up." Vector glanced around suddenly, looking for something. "Where's Harry?" she asked unexpectedly.

"He's . . ." Hermione glanced around as well, a sudden panic thrumming in her veins. "He was here just a minute ago." Desperately, Hermione tried to remember if she'd seen Harry since they arrived at the Great Hall.

"Hermione!" It was odd to hear rebuke in Vector's normally easy-going voice. "It's your job to keep him alive!"

"I know!" exclaimed Hermione, stressed and suddenly frustrated. She gripped at a handful of Vector's robes, overwhelmed by the entire situation. "I know that! I just don't know how!"

Vector glanced around, then pulled Hermione a couple of steps away from the crowd of chattering students and cast an Anti-Eavesdropping Charm. She pulled a roll of parchment from her robes and, with a flick of her wrist, unfurled it. The parchment was so long that it hit the ground. The full length of it would have rolled away across the floor if Vector hadn't stopped it with a foot. The paper was covered with Arithmantic calculations, and Hermione's professor was skimming down the paper quickly, looking for some particular section.

"Here," she said suddenly, pushing the parchment towards Hermione and pointing to a specific formula. "In essence, your task hasn't changed: you need to keep Harry alive."

"Yes," replied Hermione, scanning the formula, hoping it might provide some answer. It didn't seem to code anything beyond what she already knew. "But,"...the moment for secrecy had past, she decided. Hermione needed help, and Vector might be the only person who could tell her what to do..."but, he's a Horcrux. I don't know how to destroy the Horcrux without killing Harry in the process."

"Oh," sighed Vector in relief. She smiled her familiar smile. "You don't need to destroy the Horcrux, Hermione, Tom Riddle is going to do that part. You just need to keep Harry alive."

Hermione stared up at Vector, her mouth agape. Just keep him alive . . . Her mind was thudding with new possibilities.

"I dosed him with antivenom!" she exclaimed. "Will that do it?"

"Maybe," replied Vector eagerly, searching through the parchment again for another section of the mathematics. Conjuring a quill, she balanced the parchment on thin air and started scribbling additions to the equation. "If Riddle decides to use the snake, that might just do it. It's more likely, though, that he'll use Adava Kedavra."

"But," stammered Hermione desperate once again, "then what can I do?"

"Don't worry about his soul," replied Vector confidently. "Just concern yourself with his body."

"But I still..."

"Listen Hermione: you're Muggle-born, this concept should sound familiar. Keeping the body alive after death is a simple matter of resuscitation techniques. Normally, of course, without a soul a live body is useless, but this case is not typical. All you need to do is apply Artificial Breathing and Chest-Compression Charms to Harry's body until his soul returns. It's easier with two people, so I suggest you take Ronald Weasley with you. You'll need him, anyway, to locate Harry."

Hermione stared at Vector. Her mind whirred to process this new information.

"We can't very well just lean over Harry's body and resuscitate it in the middle of a battle or group of Death Eaters! They'd stop us within seconds."

"You might think so, but my calculations suggest that as long as you use a thorough Disillusionment Charm, and as long as you leave immediately once you're certain Harry has returned to consciousness, your chances of success are remarkably high. You must leave afterwards, though...that bit is crucial."

Hermione took several deep breaths. Glancing around, she saw Ron still standing near his brother's body. Molly and Arthur were there, too, but the others had gone elsewhere. She ran the plan through once more.

"Okay," she said finally. "Teach me the charms."

---

Ron took one look at Hermione's expression and stood wordlessly. He followed her out into the entrance hall. She explained the situation as concisely as she could and ensured he could do the charm.

The wand movement was a simple prod, and Ron muttered, "Batti, batti, batti," to himself several times.

"Nonverbal would be best, of course, but just make sure you're as quiet as possible. This is one instance when we don't want to be found."

Ron nodded his comprehension. "And once that's done, we just leave him?" he clarified dubiously.

"Yes, Ron. That part is crucial." Hermione heard Vector's words echoing under her own. "Promise me you'll leave at the right moment?"

"You trust these calculations?"

"Implicitly."

Ron sighed, then straightened his shoulders. "Okay, I promise." He looked pale but determined. "Are you ready, then?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "Have you got the Deluminator?"

Ron extricated it from the pocket of his jeans. "Think hard about Harry," he instructed, then he clicked the button. The light of the nearby torches flew towards them, plunging the rest of the room into darkness, and hovered before them glowing a bright, unnatural blue.

Hermione glanced up at Ron's face.

"We'll touch it together," he decided. "On three: one, two, three!"

Hermione and Ron reached out at the same moment and touched the glowing blue orb of light. It seemed to seep into her fingers, and Hermione felt the warmth of it travel towards her heart. It hung inside her, as if suspended within her chest.

In the dark of the pre-dawn entrance hall, she stepped towards Ron and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

"Hermione!" There was surprise and some castigation in Ron's voice, and she looked up towards his face. "You can't Apparate on the Hogwarts grounds! You should know that!"

A gurgle of laughter escaped her at his outraged expression.

"Ron," she replied firmly. "The wards are down...if they hadn't been, the Death Eaters would never have got in."

"Oh," he said sheepishly. "Well, then, shall we go?"

Hermione tightened her grip and then twisted into the crushing nothingness of Apparation, trusting that the warm blue bubble within her chest would take her to Harry.

---

They reappeared in the middle of the forest somewhere, safely concealed behind a tree. Hermione wasted no time in casting a strong Disillusionment Charm over both of them, then she groped for Ron's hand and gave it a squeeze.

"Harry Potter."*

Voldemort spoke softly, but his thin, high voice carried across the quiet night air. He couldn't be very far away. Hermione poked her head around the tree trunk and felt Ron do likewise.

She looked into a large clearing, filled with silent, watchful Death Eaters, and lit by a flickering fire. Voldemort and Harry stared at each other from opposite sides. Harry himself was only metres from where she and Ron stood.

Nagini was there, too, shimmering and slithering behind the sparkling facade of her magical cage. Hermione also saw the hulking shapes of giants at the far edge of the circle of light.

"The Boy Who Lived."*

As Voldemort spoke again, Hermione felt Ron's grip on her hand tighten convulsively. It was hard to watch Harry standing alone among his enemies and yet not run to help him. She squeezed back.

Harry hadn't moved, even though Voldemort had raised his wand. She wanted to scream at him to protect himself, but she bit down on the tip of her tongue. She tasted the metallic taint of her own blood.

"Adava Kedavra!" shrieked Voldemort, and with a blinding flash of green light, her dear, dear friend Harry crumpled to the ground.

Hermione's own legs faltered, and she would have fallen had Ron not caught her. Someone...not her...screamed.

"Come on, now, 'Mione," he breathed in her ear. "You can do it."

Taking a deep breath, Hermione nodded before she realised Ron couldn't actually see her. "Let's go!" she muttered back. Pulling on Ron's hand, she edged them closer...close enough that she could see Harry's face crushed against the ground. His glasses were crooked.

Get a grip, Granger.

Pointing her wand directly at Harry's mouth, Hermione cast the charm. Soffio della vita! she thought, waving her wand in a complicated swirl.

Beside her, she heard Ron muttering quietly: "Batti! Batti! Batti!"

Almost imperceptibly, Harry's chest was moving. It was working! Soffio della vita! she thought. Pause. Soffio della vita!

The Death Eaters, she realised suddenly, were bent over the body of Voldemort, who it seemed had also collapsed. Panicked cries and shouted snatches of arguments floated over the clearing towards them. Bellatrix was screaming at everyone to get back, and when some of them did shuffle away, Hermione got a glimpse of Voldmort's prone figure. To her complete surprise, Bellatrix was bent over Voldemort's face, performing manual mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. From the sounds of things, someone else was casting the same Batti charm that Ron was murmuring under his breath.

Momentarily distracted from her own task, Hermione was tempted to run over there and strike them all down before they could save the Dark Lord. And leave Harry? she reminded herself harshly, redoubling her attention to the breathing charm. Soffio della vita! Soffio della vita!

One last glance at the group on the other side of the clearing fell on the Malfoys. They stood slightly back from the commotion, their faces turned towards Harry and the place where Ron and Hermione stood invisible. Their expressions were blank, emotionless masks. Lucius stood behind his wife, his hands on her biceps as if he held her in check, yet her body was as motionless as his. Their frozen faces creeped Hermione out, and she pulled her eyes back to Harry's face, noting the way that his cheek was compressed by the forest floor, concentrating on the tiny movements of the grass near his mouth.

After an aeon, Harry's face twitched. The movement was small, but definitely there. Ron had seen it too, and they clutched tightly at each other's hands. They froze. Though their spells had stopped, the miniscule, tricky-to-see rise and fall of Harry's chest continued.

It worked.

"My Lord . . . my Lord . . ."*

Bellatrix's crooning voice cut through Hermione's stupor, and she flinched. Hermione could march over there and kill her now, she realised. It would be worth it.

It was Ron who stopped her. Inexorably, he was pulling her back behind the tree. She struggled for a moment, but let him win.

"My Lord . . ."*

"That will do."*

The harsh, scratchy sound of Voldemort's voice brought Hermione back to her senses. She and Ron had to get out of there. He was still tugging on her arm, and she followed him further back into the bushes.

"We need to get further away before we Apparate," he breathed into her ear.

They'd made it about one hundred metres when a raucous, celebratory cheer burst from the forest behind them.

"Now," said Hermione, and tightening her grip on Ron once more, she span into nothing.

---

They arrived back in the darkened entrance hall, shaken, but safe.

"I can't believe we left him there," whispered Ron.

"We had to," replied Hermione firmly. "Following Vector's calculations is the only hope we've got."

Ron restored the light of the hall to the wall sconces, and they went to find the others. Hermione couldn't seem to stop the trembling in her hands, no matter how tightly she gripped onto Ron.

The next little while passed in a blur. Hermione was alternately washed by the conviction that she'd done the wrong thing, that Harry was truly dead, and fired by certainty that they'd fooled Voldemort, that any moment now Harry would leap to his feet and kill the evil beast with shock alone.

When Hagrid appeared carrying Harry's body, Hermione screamed along with the others. She couldn't see him and not call for him. She couldn't process his dead appearance alongside the hope that he still lived.

Then, in a single moment, Voldemort set Neville on fire, a horde of supporting wizards, witches and centaurs arrived to aid in the battle, Grawp turned up and flung himself to Hagrid's defence, and Harry, when Hermione scanned for his body, had disappeared.

A wild war cry on her lips, Hermione ran forward into the fray. She watched Neville wrench the burning hat from his head and pull forth the familiar shape of Gryffindor's sword. She saw him slice through Nagini's neck, and a fierce joy bubbled through her every limb.

The snake: gone! The scar: gone!

Voldemort was mortal once more, and the knowledge was like Firewhisky pumping through Hermione's veins; it was like Felix Felicis singing through her body. Hermione pointed the wand she'd inherited from Bellatrix at the nearest Death Eater.

"Expelliarmus!" she cried, snatching the new wand out of the air as it flew towards her. She thrust Bellatrix's wand back in her pocket. Armed with a different weapon...and one that she mastered easily...Hermione set to stunning every enemy in reach. She wanted to fight her way to Voldemort's side. She wanted to kill him herself.

The giants, though, were pushing the fight in the opposite direction. Thestrals and hippogriffs were flapping around their heads, kicking and clawing at their eyes. Yet as the monstrous beasts staggered forwards, they pushed the crowd back. Swept up in the press of bodies, Hermione was forced back inside Hogwarts, back into the Great Hall.

Hermione caught sight of Kreacher, stabbing at a Death Eater with a long, wicked carving knife. She saw Charlie Weasley leap a fallen gargoyle to slice Fenrir Greyback across the face with a well-placed hex.

"That's for Bill, you animal!" she heard him cry.

Ron and Neville screamed as they ran to Charlie's aid, Neville still brandishing Gryffindor's sword. Hermione saw Tracey Davis, side by side with Justin Finch-Fletchley, bring down Alecto Carrow. She saw Hooch on her broom, beater's bat in hand, swoop down and whack a masked Death Eater like a polo player leaning from a horse.

In the Great Hall, Hermione saw Poppy Pomfrey levitating the dead bodies that had lined the centre of the room up and across to the teacher's platform for safety. She saw Luna Lovegood duelling a masked Death Eater and stunned him from behind.

"Thanks, Hermione," said Luna calmly. "Watch out yourself."

Luna fired a curse over Hermione's shoulder, and Hermione spun to see the danger. She found herself face to face with Bellatrix.

"Oooh, little Mudblood!" the evil woman crooned. "How lovely to find you here. Now I get to kill you with your own wand!"

Hermione fired off a nonverbal stunning spell, but Bellatrix only laughed hysterically and deflected it without trouble. By Hermione's side, Luna was also firing off curses, but the two of them combined were no match for the Dark Lord's crazy devotee. No matter how quickly they attacked her, she blocked everything and even had time to attack in return. Hermione had to dive sideways to avoid an Adava Kedavra.

In her peripheral vision, Hermione saw Ginny shoulder her way out of the crowd.

"I've got your back!" Ginny shouted as she added herself to the fray.

Hermione felt cold and hard as she battled Bellatrix, but seek as she might, she couldn't find a way through the awful woman's defences. Another killing curse very nearly hit Ginny.

"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!"*

Bellatrix spun to see her new attacker, laughing uproariously at the sight of Molly Weasley jogging towards her. Molly pulled off her cloak as she ran, throwing it unceremoniously at Hermione. Instinctively, Hermione caught it before it hit the ground.

"OUT OF MY WAY!"* shrieked Molly with the authority of she who is always obeyed.

Hermione stepped back several paces and took hold of Ginny's arm. The girl was panting from her exertions, and she stared at her mother in amazement. Molly, for her part, fought like a fury. Spells were flying so thick and fast between the two women that the air crackled and the floor sparkled. At the other end of the room, Voldemort was locked in a three way duel...with Professor McGonagall, Professor Slughorn and Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"I've never seen Mum like that!" breathed Ginny.

Several other members of the DA pushed forward, eager to help, but Molly waved them back without lowering her guard.

"No!"* she shouted. "Get back! Get back! She is mine!"*

"What will happen to your children when I've killed you?"* shrieked Bellatrix cruelly, practically dancing as she leapt and skipped to avoid the rain of curses Molly levelled at her. "When Mummy's gone the same way as Freddie?"*

Hermione tightened her grip on Ginny's arm.

"You...will...never...touch...our...children...again!"* screamed Molly, and as Bellatrix threw back her head and laughed in response, Molly added, "Adava Kedavra!"

The flash of green light slipped below Bellatrix's defences and hit her directly on the chest. She froze and then crumpled. When the crowd roared with delight, Hermione spun around. Only then did she realise how many people were crammed into the room.

Voldemort, she thought and started forward, eager to finish off the now-mortal creature, but as she did so, he screamed. His rage at Bellatrix's death exploded out of him as pure force, and Hermione, like everyone in the room was pressed back towards the walls. McGonagall, Kingsley, and Slughorn, who had been closest at the time, were thrown backwards, their limbs spread eagled outward by the power of the Dark Lord's anger. Molly Weasley was knocked to her knees.

Voldemort's red eyes blazed with fury, and he spun towards the spot where Molly scrambled to push herself back to her feet.

"Protego!"*

The voice was Harry's, and as his Shield Charm blossomed in the centre of the room, protecting Molly from Voldemort, he tore off the Invisibility Cloak and turned to face his enemy.

"YES!" shouted Hermione. She tore her eyes from Harry's straight, proud form just long enough to seek out Ron in the crowd. He met her gaze with a grin and fisted the air in triumph. Hermione beamed back. She was smiling so hard that she thought her face might split in two.

"I don't want anyone else to try to help,"* instructed Harry. His voice sounded deeper and more sure than Hermione had ever heard it before. "It's got to be like this. It's got to be me."*

"Potter doesn't mean that,"* sneered Voldemort in response, though his voice lacked the surety of his younger opponent. "That isn't how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?"*

"Nobody,"* replied Harry coolly. "There are no more Horcruxes. It's just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good. . . ."*

"One of us?"* sputtered Voldemort. "You think it will be you, do you, the boy who has survived by accident, and because Dumbledore was pulling the strings?"*

He's loosing it, thought Hermione, tracking the two carefully as they began to circle each other. What's Harry waiting for?

Harry continued to taunt Voldemort, claiming to have weapons and knowledge that the snakeman did not.

"You think you know more magic than I do?"* screamed Voldemort. "Than I, than Lord Voldemort, who has performed magic that Dumbledore himself never dreamed of?"*

"Oh, he dreamed of it,"* retorted Harry, "but he knew more than you, knew enough not to do what you've done."*

"You mean he was weak!"* was the screeched reply. "Too weak to dare, too weak to take what might have been his, what will be mine!"*

"No, he was cleverer than you: a better wizard, a better man."*

"I brought about the death of Albus Dumbledore!"* screamed Voldemort, spittle flying from his lips.

"You thought you did, but you were wrong."*

Hermione heard the crowd around gasp with surprise. The memories, she thought with sudden certainty. She bit down on her lip. Tell everyone the truth, Harry, she willed silently. Tell them the truth now, while they're all paying attention.

"Dumbledore is dead!"* screamed Voldemort. "His body decays in the marble tomb in the grounds of this castle, I have seen it, Potter, and he will not return!"*

Harry shook his head slightly and smiled. "Yes,"* he said, and his voice was pitying, "Dumbledore's dead, but you didn't have him killed. He chose his own manner of dying, chose it months before he died, arranged the whole thing with the man you thought was your servant."*

"What childish dream is this?"*Voldemort's words were dismissive, but his tone was hesitant.

"Severus Snape wasn't yours,"* said Harry, and Hermione exulted.

Someone behind her staggered and caught at her shoulder for balance. Hermione glanced back into the stunned face of Professor McGonagall.

"Sweet Merlin, Severus!" the woman whispered.

Hermione's mouth dropped open with surprise, but she wrenched her face back towards Harry and Voldemort.

"Snape was Dumbledore's, Dumbledore's from the moment you started hunting down my mother. And you never realised it, because of the thing you can't understand. You never saw Snape cast a Patronus, did you, Riddle?"*

Hermione's heart beat uncomfortably hard. What did Snape's Patronus have to do with it?

"Snape's Patronus was a doe,"* Harry continued, "the same as my mother's, because he loved her for nearly all of his life, from the time they were children. You should have realised, he asked you to spare her life, didn't he?"*

Voldemort sneered. "He desired her, that was all, but when she had gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him..."*

Someone who had just kissed her best friend didn't have the right to feel as stricken as Hermione did at the knowledge that her teacher had once loved her other best friend's mother. Yet Hermione felt the truth of Harry's words slip up under her breastbone and slice into her heart.

Get a grip, Granger.

Only when she realised Harry was shouting at Voldemort did she manage to force her attention back to the scene before her.

"Aren't you listening?"* he shouted. "Snape never beat Dumbledore! Dumbledore's death was planned between them! Dumbledore intended to die undefeated, the wand's last true master! If all had gone as planned, the wand's power would have died with him, because it had never been won from him!"*

Harry didn't quite have his facts straight, but it wasn't exactly the moment to correct him.

"But then, Potter,"* retorted Voldemort, his face twisted with glee, "Dumbledore as good as gave me the wand! I stole the wand from its last master's tomb! I removed it against its last master's wishes! Its power is mine!"*

"You still don't get it, Riddle, do you? Possessing the wand isn't enough! Holding it, using it, doesn't make it really yours. Didn't you listen to Ollivander? The wand chooses the wizard. . . . The Elder Wand recognised a new master before Dumbledore died, someone who never even laid a hand on it. The new master removed the wand from Dumbledore against his will, never realising exactly what he had done, or that the world's most dangerous wand had given him its allegiance. . . ."*

Hermione realised where Harry was going, and she thrilled to the brilliance of his logic, her inexplicable heartache momentarily forgotten.

"The true master of the Elder Wand,"* exclaimed Harry loudly, "was Draco Malfoy."*

For a long moment, Voldemort said nothing at all, his face a blank mask of shock.

"But what does it matter?"* he whispered eventually. "Even if you are right, Potter, it makes no difference to you and me. You no longer have the phoenix wand: we duel on skill alone . . . and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy. . . ."*

"But you're too late,"* replied Harry, quirking one corner of his mouth. "You've missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took this wand from him."* Harry jerked his wrist slightly to indicate that the hawthorn wand he held was the wand he meant. "So it all comes down to this, doesn't it?"* he whispered. "Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does . . . I am the true master of the Elder Wand."*

Every person in the room held their breath, every atom seeming to hang from the end of Harry's last proclamation. As the silence stretched between the two enemies, the sun rose above the horizon, and the enchanted ceiling reflected a sudden blaze of light.

At precisely the same moment, Voldemort yelled, "Avada Kedavra!" and Harry shouted his perennial favourite, "Expelliarmus!"

The spells collided in midair with a deafening crash of noise and a blaze of golden flames. Voldemort's wand flew into the air, spinning like a boomerang towards Harry, who plucked it from the sky with the unerring hands of a born Seeker. At the same moment, Voldemort's body shrivelled in on itself and toppled backwards.

For a second longer, the whole room hung in that same moment of suspense; then they shouted with joy. Hermione leapt forward, her legs pushing and her arms pumping. She closed the short distance between her and Harry at the same moment as Ron, and the three of them were suddenly wrapped so tightly around each other that she couldn't tell which boy's cheek she was kissing, which shoulder she was patting, which arm she wiped her tears on. All she knew was the incoherent feeling of joy and delight as she screamed Harry's victory to the glowing ceiling of the Great Hall.

---

It was almost an hour later that Hermione stood with Ron in the headmaster's office and watched Harry repair his wand and explain his plans for the Deathly Hallows. She had begun to fret about Snape, but knew somehow that it was important not to leave until everything here was sorted out and Harry was ready for bed.

"Are you sure?"* asked Ron. He clearly couldn't wrap his head around the justice of abandoning the Elder Wand.

"I think Harry's right,"* she answered quietly. Dumbledore beamed at her.

"That wand's more trouble than it's worth,"* sighed Harry. "I've had enough trouble for a lifetime."*

Ron laughed at that and clapped Harry on the upper arm. "You'll be bored in a month," he teased. "Mark my words."

Harry pulled a face, but was suddenly serious again as he looked at the Pensieve on the desk. Ron noticed the direction of his gaze.

"What should we do with them, Harry?" he asked.

"Actually, I want you two to see them. You were there for everything else. It's only fair that you understand the reasons behind it all."

Ron looked as uncomfortable at that suggestion as Hermione felt.

"I don't think Snape would want..." she began.

"Look," interrupted Ron, "it's not like we need convincing. We realised ages ago that the greasy git had to be on our side."

Hermione smacked Ron on the upper arm for his rudeness, but Harry just gaped in surprise.

"You...what? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Oh, yeah right," retorted Ron. "That would have gone down well. You were always such a big fan of his work."

"The point is," said Hermione, cutting across the discussion, "I don't think we need to see his memories."

Harry looked disconsolate.

"I, on the other hand," remarked Dumbledore's portrait, "agree with Harry. I think it would be a very good idea for you both to know where Harry was coming from. In the long run, it might prove extraordinarily useful."

Even in his painted form, Dumbledore was hard to disobey, and shortly Hermione found herself bending over the curious bowl and its shimmery, silvery contents. As she touched the tip of her nose to the surface of the liquid, she tilted forwards and fell into Snape's memories.

Watching Snape's blossoming love for Lily Evans was even more painful than hearing about it second hand, yet when Dumbledore forced Snape into the promise to send Harry to his death, Hermione subsumed every other emotion in a burning ball of fiery rage. She shook off Ron's attempt at a comforting embrace and was still furious as she emerged back into the study.

Hermione turned instantly and glared at the portrait.

"You bastard," she exclaimed.

Ron and Harry both stared in shock at the unaccustomed expletive.

"Hermione? You alright?"

Hermione was already at the door when she spun back to look at Ron.

"Look after Harry," she told him. He nodded obediently. "And your mum, too."

Hermione ran down the staircase and out into the corridors, leaping over various pieces of broken stonework and other obstacles. She was out the door and streaking across the grounds before she remembered that the anti-Apparation wards were still down. By that time, she was nearly at the school boundary, and the run was doing her good.

At the Apparation point, she took several deep breaths to steady herself. She fixed the words "Spinner's End" carefully in her mind and Apparated away.

---

Hermione emerged from the crushing grip of Apparition into a grimy sitting room, lined with books. A thin grey light seeped through a window so dirty that most of the room's illumination came from the bare bulb suspended from the ceiling. Stretched on the couch was the lanky form of her one-time Potions professor. Numerous phials of medicinal potions sat on the coffee table near his head: some full, some empty. He hadn't stirred at her arrival.

"Snape?" she asked. Her voice sounded odd in the quiet room.

He didn't move.

Hermione stepped closer. As she noticed the blood on his clothes, and all over the couch, her heart thudded painfully and her stomach turned to ice.

"Snape!" she was shouting his name now, and she leant over him, fisting her hands in the front of his robes. There was blood everywhere, and it stained her hands with a fresh film of awful red. "Snape! Don't die! You can't! Not now! Not now!"

---

A/N: Did you think I was past the point of cliffhangers? Not quite! *smirks evilly*