Chapter 03

Author's Notes: Sheesh, you'd think they'd have thought of doing this with the school earlier on! ~Lotm

III.

The ring stayed quiescent for more than a week, then burned under her shirt while Hermione was studying with Ron and Harry in the school's summer-quiet library. Startled, Hermione covered her slight jump by rising from her seat at the book-piled table they shared. Heading into the stacks, she pulled out the ring, examining it warily in the light from one of the tall, narrow windows slotted between the rows of shelves on that side of the chamber. Another name, and another address. She didn't know the person.

Nibbling on her lower lip, wondering how long she had in which to react, either half an hour or a couple of hours, Hermione debated as quickly as she could on how to handle this one. She couldn't just pop her head through the Floo and tell this Angelina Cathcart person to pack up her bags and move out in fifteen minutes flat. Yet she couldn't in good conscience not warn the witch. Worried, she headed back to the table, tucking the ring back under her shirt.

Ron wasn't studying at the moment. He was folding an airplane out of a spare sheet of paper. "...And then Dad said the enchantment is...um...Memoceleros!"

The airplane took off, zoomed around the table, and made a beeline straight for Hermione. Startled, she caught it even as it thumped point-first into shoulder. Ron grinned and winked at her. Prying open the paper, Hermione read the note he'd written. It was short and to the point: ...Wanna snog in the Restricted Section? I've always wanted to do that, at school! Shaking her head ruefully, she started to crumple the note. Then stopped.

Inspiration struck.

"Ron, how do you do this, again? Make one of these paper-memo airplanes?"

"It's easy; I'll show you." Bending his head over another sheet, he demonstrated. Sitting down across from him, Hermione practiced. She sent him a reply saying 'yes'...and it wobbled a bit but limped over to him. Then sent a memo to Harry with a silly little take-off on a Muggle cartoon she was sure he'd seen, along the lines of I tawt I taw a bid bad Moldie-mort!, whereupon he sent back with a grin, I did! I did see a bid bad Moldiemort! That broke her up in giggles, and left Ron demanding to know what the joke was.

Aware of the fleeting nature of time, Hermione ordered Harry to enlighten him on the subject of the old Warner Bros. cartoons from American television, and said she was going to the girls' lavatory. Catching her book bag, she hurried out of the library. But not to the nearest lavatory. Rather, to the nearest classroom, the Runes lab. A judicious use of the Unlocking Charm, and she got inside. From there, she let herself into the professor's quiet, tidy office, and rooted around until she found quill and paper. Enchanting the quill so that it wrote in copperplate that couldn't be traced, she dictated a note.

Attn: Auror Department

I have just been given a reasonably reliable tip that the home of one Angelina Cathcart, residence 'The Carriagehouse, Buxley Gardens, Birminghamshire', will be attacked at some point by Death Eaters, somewhere between now and dawn. Please set a watch on her house, as I fear for her life...'

Hermione debated what to sign on the note. Not her own name; that much was certain. And 'Deep Throat' would only be greeted with suspicion, confusion, or a dirty look, depending on who knew what Muggle scandal it referenced. In the end, she merely signed it, 'Yours Sincerely, Ring of Truth', and put the time and the date underneath. Folding and enchanting it, she scooped up a fistful of Floo powder from the pot on Professor Vector's mantel, cast it into the fire, and lobbed the memo-airplane through.

Anxious but unable to do anything else, Hermione retreated from the office and classroom, locking doors behind her as she headed for the lavatory; she hadn't lied about that part, just hedged on what she also had to do while away from the boys.

...

Eavesdropping on the Order members the next morning, Hermione learnt that her anonymous note had been almost successful. The Ministry hadn't paid it much heed, sending a single Auror to investigate the matter. The man had wound up in St. Mungo's with severe injuries, as had Miss Cathcart...but both were alive, and both would recover. Miss Cathcart would even recover quickly enough to marry her Muggle fiance, according to Tonks. The Metamorphmagus had taken to dropping by Headquarters to chat with the three of them, having professed that she was a bit lonely when 'that time of the month' came by and Remus had to maintain his cover among the werewolf packs.

Relieved it had sort of worked, Hermione made sure to keep a couple of scraps of paper on her, pre-folded and enchanted to fly off to the Auror Department as soon as she could write down the time, place and person of the next attack. But once again, the ring fell quiet. Harry's birthday approached, and she found herself with a different problem on her mind.

Ron wanted to 'advance' their relationship. Hermione was torn. She liked him, and she liked kissing him...but she didn't think she was ready for anything more advanced than that, just yet. But he was hinting at a night some point after Harry's seventeenth birthday, which was going to be celebrated at the Burrow, a night when he'd sneak into her room and go as far as they could, physically.

All she could see, when she thought about that, was a series of images that disturbed and unsettled her. For one, she wasn't ready to be a mum, and didn't have any contraceptives on hand, Muggle or wizarding style. For another, the thought of becoming another Molly Weasley made her shudder. She liked Molly...but Hermione definitely did not want to end up giving birth to a whole brood of children. Two or three, yes--she'd never wanted to be an only child, herself, but her mum had developed cysts and had to have her uterus removed not long after Hermione was born. And Hermione really wanted to wait until she was older, settled in a career and stable financially. No, she didn't want to get pregnant. Or contract some weird wizarding disease, though she doubted Ron had anything of the sort.

She also thought of the ring, and the implied, last-resort protection it represented. Not that she wanted to get magically engaged to a wizard she didn't even know, but Hermione remembered Dolohov's curse from last year and the battle in the school halls this year all too vividly. They didn't have any more Felix Felicis to improve their chances of surviving the next all-out battle with their foes. A magical betrothal--whatever that meant--was definitely a last-resort option, but she should try to hold that option open.

Then there was the fact that she just didn't want to get married right now. She was fresh out of school, still quite young, had no job at the moment beyond trying to save the world--and that didn't pay a single pence, let alone a Knut--and right now Hermione wasn't even sure if she wanted to marry Ron, who was her boyfriend. Never mind a wizard who was not only a complete stranger, but a Death Eater as well. Spy or otherwise, he was a Death Eater, and she would do well to keep that much firmly in mind.

But she did take the time to investigate what the Hogwarts library had to say about magical betrothals. Research was her standby, her comfort-zone when she ran up against a wall of ignorance. Her findings did not let her down, though they did distress her a little.

It turned out there were several different kinds of magically binding betrothals, marriages, and even hand-fastings. Ring-based ones were varied, but most of them either revolved around marriages or hand-fastings. Those that involved marriages were donned during the marriage ceremony, and were a sort of 'you want to get married, so we'll enforce it' thing. Those involving hand-fastings were more of a 'I want to see if you, my partner, are fertile, so put on this ring and we'll be committed to each other for a year and a day, and we'll be considered legally married the moment you get pregnant' situation. Not all of them, but that covered the majority. A few, rare situations involved a form of marriage taking place the moment the rings were donned and the joining consummated, or even just a kiss exchanged, to seal the bargain.

It made her leery of putting on the ring, but such rings usually came with a powerful range of protective spells that made her think it might be worthwhile, if she were in a situation that was desperate enough. Some even came with something that sounded like a guardian spirit, perhaps something like a Patronus, but unfortunately, the text wasn't very clear. The protections otherwise ranged from touch-me-not spells and other defensive charms, to offensive capabilities that could blind, cripple, and in a few cases, cause impotency in would-be attackers. No one talked about it, per se, but she'd seen the way the Death Eaters had toyed with flashing that Muggle woman's knickers, back at the Quidditch World Cup. Rape was an unpleasant possibility for anyone caught by Lord Voldemort's side.

It was enough to know she should indeed be very leery of putting on that ring...and at the same time, just a little hesitant to throw away her virginity, and the potential for such valuable protection. Some of these betrothal rings didn't care about the state of chastity of their bearers, true. Others, however, did. The letter that had arrived with her ring implied it was one of the latter.

Which left her wondering what to do about Ron Weasley's increasing interest in having sex with her. She didn't want to offend him, but even without the ring factored in, she just didn't feel ready for a step that big. Sex was bound to be distracting; they needed to focus on winning the war. As it was, they could've gotten a bit more in the way of studying done if it weren't for the snogging sessions. She liked kissing him, but...she wasn't ready to lose her virginity, and she didn't think taking off even more time for something she wasn't ready to do was a wise idea.

They were due to go to the Burrow for Harry's very first official birthday-party, which was being planned by Molly. She'd overheard Ron asking him what he wanted for his birthday, and had asked when that birthday was and what he was doing for it. Appalled to learn his Muggle relatives had never celebrated it, she'd immediately started planning 'a proper wizarding birthday'.

Ron had blushed, and Ginny had quickly reminded her mum that it was going to be Harry's seventeenth birthday, his coming-of-age birthday, and that she should probably not hire any wizarding clowns. Mrs. Weasley had looked a little disappointed at that, but sighed and admitted the clowns probably wouldn't be feeling very funny, what with the war and all. But she had arranged everything, including Order escorts for Ron and Ginny and Hermione so they could go into Diagon Alley and pick up presents for Harry.

Now, on the night before that party, Hermione studied a last few medical charms in the quiet of her bedroom. Harry's present sat wrapped on her desk next to her thick pile of notes; she'd bought him a copy of Houdini-Hexes, a book on binding and releasing charms, whether it was locks, ropes, chains, or even certain spells.

A knock on the door startled her, as she was working on the wand-movements for a sprain-healing cantrip. Red sparks shot out of her wand, making Crookshanks, curled up next to her on her bed, flick an ear in irritation as they vanished only an inch or so above his fur. Lowering her wand, Hermione called out, "...Come in!"

Ron's lanky, freckled body eased inside, shutting the door quickly behind him. "Shhh! I don't want everyone in the whole house to know I'm in here."

That set off her Sneaking Around instincts. Ron was Up To Something, and given that it was clear he didn't want anyone to know he was in here, with her...she had a fair idea why he was in her room so late at night. But she needed to hear the words, rather than try a guess that might backfire. They'd had too much miscommunication through the past few years as it was. "Ron, why are you in here?"

He grinned at her, crossing the room to her bed, and took her face in his hands. She should've seen it coming, but he just swooped down and planted her one on the lips. And it was nice, and it was good, and she wanted to do more, but when he nudged her backward, putting one knee on the bed to add leverage to his unspoken demand, Hermione felt very uncomfortable.

Twisting free, she escaped off the bed. "Ron, no..."

"Hermione, I just want a kiss! And a chance to hold you," he added with what looked like an honest shrug. Then spoilt it by adding, "And touch you, and kiss you some more, and see where all of that leads us."

Uncomfortable, Hermione shook her head instinctively.

"C'mon, Hermione!" Getting off the bed, he crossed the short distance between them, trapping her against the vanity that was serving as her desk. Again, he cupped her head, burying his fingers in her hair so that he could draw her close for a kiss. She enjoyed it, since she did like kissing him...until he pressed his hips into hers, and she felt the unmistakable lump of his arousal.

Breaking free, she sidestepped him and backed up, realized she was headed for the bed, and stood her ground. "...No, Ron. I don't feel comfortable."

He flashed her a smile. "Then lie down on the bed. I know I'll feel a lot more comfortable there, too."

His obtuseness was frustrating. "That's not what I meant!"

"Then what do you mean?" he demanded. "Don't you want to snog with me?"

"Yes--no--I do like kissing you! It's the rest of it I'm not comfortable with!" Hermione blurted out. "I'm not ready for it!"

"What's there to be ready for? All I want to do is lie there with you, and hold you!" he asserted, pointing at her bed. Crookshanks' ears were flat, though that could've been more from the rising noise of their argument than from anything else. If Ron's ears could've done the same, she guessed they would have, because he continued, "I'm not going to...to force you to do anything! I'm not that kind of bloke! Besides, Mum and Gin would have my ears and all other pertinent bits cut off, and my brothers would just flat-out kill me!"

"I know, Ron. I know. But, lying there makes me think of the simple things, like kissing and cuddling, leading to more...and I'm not ready for anything more. So...I guess I'm going to have to ask you to leave, now." Moving to the door, she grasped the knob and opened it.

"Hermione..."

"No, Ron. Not tonight."

Disappointment drawing his brows together, Ron left her room. Closing the door, Hermione debated using a locking charm. Fire seared her skin, making her gasp. Grabbing the chain, she pulled the ring free. It was clear. Relieved, Hermione sat down at the vanity table and fetched quill and paper. A jab of her wand at the door locked and warded it, granting her solitude. Pressing the ring to the sheet, she read the words that blossomed at the touch of gold.

Who was the blooming idiot whose idea it was to hold Harry's birthday party at the Burrow? Headquarters would be a lot smarter and safer, wherever that may be, now!

This was a bit of a tone for him to take! My, you're in a snit, Hermione dared to write back. And it was Mrs. Weasley's idea.

That woman has no sense, Russel wrote back as their previous words faded from view. Harry comes of-age on his seventeenth birthday. The protections Brian placed upon him via his blood-relatives cease to exist on that day. Anyplace he resides will automatically become a bloody target, thereafter! There won't be one timber laid atop another, by the end of tomorrow night! Get the party, and the Weasleys, moved out of there as soon as possible!

Hermione frowned at that. She didn't think Molly Weasley would be all that easily budged from her home. How? If you know Mrs. Weasley, you know what she'll be like. She won't want to move. And what about all the Aurors and Order members who'll be there? Wouldn't that be enough to thwart the enemy's plans?

They'll be attacking en masse. Or rather, I should that *we* will be attacking en masse. Please do not be there. Any of you.

The paper flashed, vanishing in a puff of fine, white ash. The ring felt cold, underneath her hand. Hermione nibbled her lower lip in worry, then grabbed her quill, enchanted it, and penned a note on a fresh piece of parchment.

To: Order of the Phoenix

Ring of Truth

Folding and enchanting it, Hermione slipped the airplane into her shirt as she opened one of her old Charms textbooks. A quick reading and a quick practice of the necessary wand movement--just a subtle, looping snap of the wrist, which when combined with a bit of silent enforcement would produce the desired effect--and she left her room. As suspected, there were a few Order members awake and occupying the kitchen, which was one of the least gloomy locations in the house. Mrs. Figg was one; she was knitting in a chair by the aga, one of her cats curled up on her lap, and another two at her feet. Moody was drinking from his hip-flask, and, to Hermione's surprise, Fred and George Weasley were also present, drinking something that looked suspiciously like bottles of Muggle stout.

It looked like the three wizards had been contemplating something without words, something of grave importance. Mad-Eye's presence complicated matters, making her fold her arms across her stomach defensively. If he spotted the note with his magical eye and realized what it was... He grunted and shook his head, distracting her from her worries.

"Dammit, my eye's stuck, again. All I can see are those damned cats at your feet, Arabella."

It took Hermione a moment to realize Arabella was Mrs. Figg's first name. She moved over to the hearth, flashing a smile at Fred and George. They smiled back, albeit a bit wanly. Moody was digging at his magical eye, attempting to extract it; after the impostor, Barty Crouch Junior, had borrowed it and Moody's wooden leg to impersonate him while he was supposed to be the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, the eye kept giving the real Alastor Moody trouble every now and again. Thankfully, that meant that his eye wasn't anywhere near her and her enchanted letter.

A flick of her wand behind her back, and the fire roared green in a near-perfect imitation of a Floo call. Whirling to face it, Hermione snuck the airplane out of her shirt and tossed it into the harmless illusion. It circled around and came flapping back out again as she let the flames die down, landing on the table with a flutter of its wings between the twins and the semi-retired Auror.

"Careful!" Moody hissed at George as he reached for the airplane. "It might be a trap!"

Fred sighed and drew his wand, poking the paper with a couple revelation spells. The aura emitted by the paper was a steady light blue, indicating no harmful magic associated with its enchantment. Only somewhat satisfied, Moody examined it by passing his eye over the paper. Literally, in fact; he'd managed to extract the magical, bright-blue glass eye and held it caged gently in his fingers.

"...It looks safe."

"Good," George muttered, grabbing and unfolding the sheet. He scanned the neatly penned lines, his mouth tightening. "...It's that 'Ring of Truth' fellow, from the Cathcart case Tonks was talking about. Says the Burrow's going to be hit tomorrow, and we should pry Mum and Dad out of there before it's too late."

He passed the note to his twin, who also read it with a grim, tight expression, then Fred handed it to Mad-Eye. The aging Auror read it, snorted, and passed it to Hermione. "I don't know who this 'Ring of Truth' fellow is, but that Cathcart deal was badly botched. Vigilance is what we need, not slipshod, half-arsed work!"

"Considering you yourself pooh-pooh'd the idea that the first letter from the Ring of Truth fellow was even the slightest bit reliable, Alastor," the aging Mrs. Figg chided him, turning her knitting about so she could work the other direction comfortably, "I think it's rather hypocritical of you to now claim you were actually supportive, that first time around."

Moody muttered something under his breath that sounded like, "Squibs and their damned cats..."

Hermione, accepting the letter from him, realized he had a cat in his lap, too. Mainly because his hand, once free of the paper, dropped below the edge of the table top to pet the calico curled up companionably down there. She pretended to read it as if for the first time, and took visible concern at the note. "This 'Ring of Truth' person--he or she wrote another note?"

"Yes, and the Auror sent to handle the case ended up facing off against a trio of Death Eaters," Moody reminded her. "Didn't you ask me about the witch, and how she was faring at St. Mungo's?"

"Oh, yes, right, I remember it now. I've been a bit distracted with other thoughts. Well, if the first note turned out to be genuine, it makes sense to assume that this note will be, too. I mean, the party will be a valid target. Which means we need to get Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to vacate the Burrow as quickly as possible," she asserted. "Any idea on how to do that?" she asked the twins.

Fred shook his head. "You won't get Mum to move."

"--I mean, you could," George added, and Fred nodded, "but she'd be all weepy and resistant, and want to pack up everything, and it would take forever to get her out of there."

"Not to mention Dad would take forever, and would want to take all of his Muggle artifacts..." Fred shook his head. "No, it would probably be faster to defend the place somehow. It's not as if you could just pack up the whole Burrow and make..."

"Oy, Gred,": George prodded his twin, "you just thought of something, didn't you?"

"...That I did, Forge," Fred returned, a sly look crossing his features. "Hey, Mad-Eye...how do you feel about casting a second Fidelius Charm? I mean, if Mrs. Figg is ever captured--no offense, Mrs. Figg, and you know we'd defend you and your cats to the death--wouldn't it be vigilant to have a second line of retreat waiting in the wings? With a different Secret-Keeper, of course?"

Hermione's eyes widened. Why hadn't she thought of this? "That's ruddy brilliant--oh! And I know the perfect way to combine the birthday party with the hiding of the Burrow. We make Harry the Secret Keeper! The Burrow's been like a second home to him, and I'm sure he'd hold its secret tighter than life or death! ....That is, if you and your parents wouldn't mind?"

"Mind, hell! We think it's brilliant!" George exclaimed, exchanging looks with his twin.

Fred grinned. "Once little Gin's all grown up and out of school, we've a mind to hex Harry until he agrees they're perfect together, so why not keep it all in the family to begin with?"

"Of course, we'd have to hex him if he does anything other than snog with her while she's still in school," George added mock-threateningly. Hermione grinned with relief.

"You'd better go on to the Burrow, then," Moody ordered them. "An' stay there, to guard the place overnight."

Both twins rose from the table, and George flipped the older wizard a snappy salute. "Constant--"

"--Vigilance!" Fred saluted on George's verbal heels. And on his physical heels, too, as he followed his twin to the hearth.

"The Burrow!" George asserted, casting a fistful of Floo powder at the embers as soon as Fred and he stood upon them. They whirled away.

Moody watched them go, then lifted the cat from his lap to the table-top. As the calico yawned and stretched, he got up and stumped over to the cupboard, fetching a glass and filling it at the sink. Returning to his seat at the table, he plopped his eye in the glass and whizzed it about, cleaning it. The calico nudged his scarred hand, and he petted the feline almost absently. "Shouldn't you be getting to bed?"

Hermione nodded, knowing he meant her and not the cat. She quietly wished him and Arabella Figg a good night, and headed for the back stairs. Mounting the steps to the floor with her room, she wished she knew Russel's full name. If she did, she could contact him and...no, she couldn't. Aside from the fact that the ring going off magically at the wrong moment could get him noticed and tortured or killed, he didn't need to know about the Burrow being placed under the Fidelius Charm.

After all, she still didn't know why he'd sent her the ring, and these messages. They could still be designed as a trap, a ruse to lull her into a false sense of security with an initial spate of accurate, truthful reports. It was rather cynical to think that way, she had to acknowledge...but after Professor Snape's unbelievable defection, she'd lost too much of her innocence and naivety to keep turning a blind eye to such dour and unpleasant possibilities. Really, there wasn't any harm in being cautious.

Including being cautious enough to check her room thoroughly enough to make sure Ron wasn't hiding in it, waiting to pounce on her the moment her guard was down.

...

Whatever the twins said or did to convince their parents, it worked. Harry, Ron and Hermione were escorted by several Order members earlier than originally planned to the edge of the Weasley property. Harry was then walked over the property's stone-hedge marked boundaries with Moody and Mr. Weasley so that he could mark and remember exactly what comprised the Burrow in his mind. That was the key to being a Secret Keeper. It wasn't just about hiding the house itself; if the wizard or witch holding the Secret was thorough enough, they could hide the entire property. And then, with Molly and Arthur vacated to the edge of the property, Moody cast the spell on Harry.

The land instantly shrunk around them, swallowing the Burrow and its gardens and fields. Harry looked into the space where the property had been, then looked back at the others. All of the Weasleys were studying him anxiously, true, but their eyes also held looks of trust and faith in him. He opened his mouth to speak aloud, then wisely closed it. Rather than announcing it openly, he went first to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and murmured directly in their ears. Arthur hugged and slapped him on the back; Molly squeezed him and wiped at her eyes with her kerchief. Harry then introduced Bill and his wife to the location of the family home, followed Ron, the twins, Ginny--even Charlie, who had Apparated to the edge of the lane a few yards away with an utterly puzzled look while Harry was murmuring to his sister, apparently thwarted from Apparating directly into his family's home--and then he reached Hermione.

"...The home of the Weasleys is the Burrow, outside Ottery St. Catchpole," Harry whispered in her ear. He moved on even as the landscape unfolded itself, squeezing the vegetable gardens, chicken coop, broom shed, and that marvelously ramshackle structure of magic-supported improbability the redheaded family called a house back into her view. Relieved, Hermione stepped across the boundary, waiting for the other Order members to be welcomed across, including Mad-Eye Moody. While the battle-scarred wizard had been the one to cast the Fidelius Charm on Harry, he himself could not see the place without Harry's whisper in his ear, not even with the spinning blue stare of his magical eye. But eventually they all stepped across the invisible boundary, and that was when the birthday party began.

They were well into the cake-cutting and present-opening, when four owls swept down out of the sky, landing just beyond the boundary. Hermione spotted them descending, and crossed the border between the Burrow and the rest of the world, marked by a line of grass-tufted stones that could have laughingly called itself a fence a couple centuries ago. Extracting the familiar-looking letters from their legs, she stepped back across as they winged off to return to their owl-post duties. Two of them were bulky, no doubt containing her and Ron's prefect badges.

Fred met her halfway back up the path. "What've you got there?"

"Our school letters." Dutifully, she handed each one to Ron, Harry, and Ginny. Only Ginny opened hers with any enthusiasm.

"Oy, listen to this," Ginny offered as soon as she'd skimmed hers. "It's from Professor McGonagall!"

The others came closer.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall...that's going to take some getting used to," Ginny observed, before continuing. "Let's see...Order of Merlin Second Class, so on and so forth...

"Dear Ms. Weasley,

In light of the attack perpetrated against this school, its staff, and its student body at the end of this last year, we considered long and hard whether or not to keep Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry open. After giving it careful consideration, we have elected to open the school September 1st as usual. Seeing the dedication of certain of our students to the pursuit of Knowledge and Preparedness this summer, in spite of the grave danger they face, we feel it would be far more dangerous to not instruct our children in the proper use of magic, including the Defence Against the Dark Arts.

We trust these measures will allay your family's concerns, but if not, we will quite understand. Please reply as to whether or not you will be able to attend by no later than the Ides of August, being the fifteenth of this coming month. The school term starts September 1st; please be at King's Cross Station before 9am, in order to board the Hogwarts Express..."

Her voice trailed off, since the rest of the letter sounded like it was pretty much the standard sort of information. Ron, Harry and Hermione exchanged somewhat guilty, remorseful looks. The rest of the Weasleys, Tonks, Lupin, and a few others exchanged puzzled looks. Mad-Eye Moody, however, grunted in satisfaction.

"She works quickly, that witch. Only just told her about what we were doing to the Burrow last night," the aging wizard added. "It's rather smart of Minerva, too, concealing the school with a Fidelius Charm. A pity there aren't more people who can hide the really important places like the school."

"...I think it's a marvelous idea!" Molly praised, recovering her voice. "And I have no objections to my children attending a Secret-Kept school!"

Hermione had to privately agree with her. Hogwarts would be well-protected, so long as their Secret Keeper was protected. Cracking open her letter, she read the same missive, noted with a twinge of pain that she'd been selected to be Head Girl...and that she'd have to return the badge. Hermione checked the booklist out of habit alone, even though they would have no meaning for her.

The list of Defence textbooks made her heart lurch with excitement...until she realized she wasn't going to be attending what was supposed to be her seventh and final year. Three books were written on the list for Advanced Defence: The Art of Magic by Sun Wen, Conversations on the Art of Magic by Nihon Dzengshuen and Yling Lotun, and The Tao of Defence, by Huan Ji. It was exciting to think that her classmates were going to be able to study what sounded like Chinese magic. It was very disappointing to realize she wouldn't be attending those classes.

Making up her mind, Hermione decided she would get the textbooks anyway, and study them in her spare time. All of them, not just the ones for the DADA class. The only real problem she could foresee was ensuring that Harry, Ron and she were granted access to the school grounds, once the Fidelius Charm was laid. Well, it wasn't as much of a problem, since Hermione could see the three of them going along on the train-ride, getting to the gates, being let in...and then exiting the school grounds, mission accomplished. It was the thought of seeing the disappointment in their Head of House's eyes that made her nervous. A disappointment that would be severely compounded by the fact that it had been their presence in the library this summer that had made up the new Headmistress' mind on whether or not to hold the school open.

No, it would be better to tell Professor McGonagall in person, ahead of time. Tucking her letter back into its envelope, she met the gazes of her two best friends and nodded slowly; they nodded back, letting her know that they agreed that they had to meet later to discuss this newest development. The resources of Hogwarts were too precious to not have access to them. Especially if some of those Horcruxes were Hogwarts-related, such as the missing heirloom-cup of Helga Hufflepuff.

...

"...Unbelievable!" Minerva McGonagall stared at the trio standing in front of her desk, which had until recently been the desk of Albus Dumbledore. "What do you mean, you're not coming back to Hogwarts? You have to finish your seventh year!"

"We cannot stay here," Harry asserted quietly, determinedly. Hermione was glad he'd elected to handle this task. She absolutely hated the look of disappointment that had blossomed in their Head of House's eyes upon the revelation of what the three of them intended to do.

"Nonsense! The school will be perfectly safe, once the Fidelius Charm has been enacted!"

"--It's not a question of safety," Harry interjected before the Scottish witch could get up a full head of steam. "We..." He glanced to his friends, then continued grimly. "We've been charged with a quest, and I intend to see it through as soon as we feasibly can. And we're all of-age. We don't have to attend school anymore."

"But--if you don't complete your studies, you won't know enough to defend yourselves!" Professor McGonagall protested.

"If we delay our quest, this war will keep dragging on!" Harry returned sharply. Hermione was very proud of him; he sounded like an adult. "What we have to do...it can and will end the war. For good. I cannot waste a year's worth of time sitting in classes here, when I could be out there, putting an end to all the torture, and the terror, and the people who are dying. Not and live with it on my conscience!"

Ron and Hermione both nodded, adding their support silently.

Minerva eyed the three of them firmly. "Well, I'm quite sure this little quest can be handled by someone else--someone a lot older and wiser! You'll pass on this quest of yours to an Order member, and you will be here on September 1st, arriving on the Hogwarts Express!"

Hermione couldn't let that one stand. "No."

Her firm denial made Minerva frown at her. "...Miss Granger? I cannot believe you, of all people, are supporting this...this madness!"

"Professor...Minerva," Hermione amended daringly, trying to reach the other witch as an equal. "This isn't a matter of being able to hand off this quest like one would hand off a grocery list. It's a matter of prophecy. The prophecy involving Harry and...and Lord Voldemort."

McGonagall flinched a little at the boldly stated name; Hermione took advantage of her reluctance, continuing.

"We know most of what needs to be done, and we are bound and determined to do it. Professor Dumbledore charged Harry with this task, right before...well, Ron and I are not about to leave him to handle it on his own. We don't do things that way."

"It's all three of us," Ron added firmly. "To the bitter end, if need be."

Minerva shifted her gaze from her students to the portraits hung on the wall. To one of the portraits in particular. "...Albus? Is this true?"

The image of Professor Dumbledore continued to snooze.

"Albus!"

Ron, Harry and Hermione all jumped. The aging witch had a formidable voice when she wanted, and she clearly wanted, right now. Even the oil painting of the sleeping former Headmaster twitched. He 'woke up', blinked his eyes at her, and smiled gently. "...Yes, Headmistress? You wanted something?"

"What's this about a quest you've set for Harry? And what does it have to do with that prophecy?" Minerva McGonagall demanded. "What is going on, here?"

His smile faded, as the portrait of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore stared sadly down at the four of them. "I'm afraid it's not your concern, Minerva. Leave it be."

"It is my concern, if these three are refusing to come back for their seventh year! Now, answer my question!"

"Yes, I've set a quest for Harry; yes, it entails the fulfillment of prophecy; and no, I am not going to tell you what it's all about. It's far too dangerous for you to know about, my dear," he chided her. "And it's not your task to undertake. Nor that of anyone else in the Order who is currently unaware of it."

"Well, what can you tell me about it?" she demanded testily.

"I can tell you that it is absolutely necessary, if we are to defeat Tom Riddle and win this war. I can also tell you that there is far more going on than any of you yet know...and that I cannot say to you and most everyone else what most of that is, until I am told that Lord Voldemort is dead," he cautioned them. "The risk of certain secrets being uncovered before it is all over is far too great to risk a leak.

"If Harry believes he must attend to this quest, rather than complete his seventh year, then I will support him as much as I can. I must ask that you trust in me, and do the same. And I say that he could have no greater companions than Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, in this quest. The love of a good friend is both a shield and a weapon, in times of trouble--now, if you don't mind, I was having a lovely dream that Drobble's Best Blowing Gum had just come out with a new, caramel flavored gum. I'd like to get back to it, if you don't mind."

Propping his bearded chin on his hand, his elbow on his desk, the painted former Headmaster returned.

The new Headmistress stared at the portrait a long moment. She sighed, lowering her gaze to the trio standing before her desk. "Well. It seems you will not be coming back to Hogwarts after all."

"Er...that's not entirely true," Hermione hedged.

At the arch of the older witch's brow, Harry explained. "We, erm, kind of need to be able to access the school library."

"Access...the school library?" she repeated.

"Yeah," Harry expanded as Minerva sat back in her chair. "A lot of that research we've been doing this summer, well...it's quest-related."

"Well, some of it's related more to defense and mediwitchery, but it's all for the cause," Ron amended.

"And so we need to be able to meet with the Secret Keeper, so we can enter the school grounds, should we need to in the near future," Hermione finished. "Because we don't quite know all that we're looking for, only some of it, so far. And the library here at Hogwarts has the most smashing collection of references we know."

Again, Minerva studied them in silence, and again she sighed heavily after several long seconds. "...Though I am thoroughly disappointed in the three of you...I can concede the need to end this stupid war as quickly as possible, to limit the number of people being harmed and worse...but you're throwing away your education, and quite possibly your very lives. Have you considered that?"

"Yes. And if I die taking Voldemort out with me," Harry asserted, "then it's worth it."

"Yeah," Ron agreed.

Hermione nodded.

"...Very well. I will need your prefect and Head Girl badges back, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger. And it would best if you weren't seen on the school grounds whenever you visit. Hogwarts is meant to be a haven, this coming term. If you come and go at will, the other students will wonder what is up, and the enemy might get wind of it and set a watch just beyond the school grounds. You will therefore come and go in stealth, you will visit at night, during the hours of curfew, and you will wear Mr. Potter's Invisibility Cloak, or take other such measures to ensure you are not seen.

'You should use the Floo in Madam Pince's office, though she might object. I will see what I can do to pacify her. If not, you will use the Floo in the Great Hall. However, I will expect progress reports--not of any details," she added, holding up her hand as Harry started to protest, "but in general, how far along you are getting in your quest. The Hogwarts School library is indeed a most impressive collection of wizarding tomes, both magical and informational. It is not a resource to be used lightly, nor freely. And, should you need assistance from myself or the other instructors, whether it is in a realm of knowledge or research or whatever, I will do what I can to assist you. If...if Albus thinks what you're doing will end the war that much quicker, I will do what I can to facilitate the matter.

"Now, if the three of you don't mind...I have a portrait to interrogate."

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall," Harry breathed, relaxing some of his tension.

"You're the tops, Headmistress," Ron added, stepping forward to set his prefect's badge on the edge of her desk.

"We'll just go on back to the library to continue our research," Hermione added, stepping up to do the same as Ron moved back. The Headmistress and former Head of Gryffindor eyed the gleaming Head Girl badge for a moment.

"Correction; gentlemen, you are dismissed. I wish to have a word with Miss Granger before she departs. Alone, if you please," Minerva McGonagall added. Harry and Ron exchanged looks, but exited the Headmistress' study. When they had gone and the door had shut, Minerva spoke again. "...Why, Hermione? Your entire career at this school has been wrapped up in your academic studies! You should've been in Ravenclaw in fact, though I admit I've been far too proud to have a student of your achievements in my own House to want to give you up to them."

"Why?" Hermione repeated. "Why am I going on this mad quest, instead of staying here at the school? Because I was sorted into Gryffindor, in the end," she stated softly. "Because as much as I love learning, I know there are more important things in the world that I need to be doing. And I have to help Harry and Ron go do them."

McGonagall nodded, looking down at her desk top. She lifted her gaze after a moment. "...I was going to offer you an apprenticeship in Transfigurations. You've got all the enthusiasm a good educator needs, a true love of learning that you could easily pass on to others. Plus the necessary level of discipline, when you care to exercise it. I was even going to offer to teach you how to become an Animagus. Of all my students, you have the greatest potential for it.

"Are you certain you want to throw that potential away?"

Hermione wrinkled her nose in distaste for her mentor's choice of words. "I don't look at it as 'throwing away' my potential, Professor. I look at it as lending that potential to my friends, and to the task at hand. Yes, I'd rather stay here at Hogwarts, and I'm really flattered you think I've got what it takes to be a teacher," she added honestly. "But I'm needed elsewhere, however much more dangerous it will be than safely staying here. I must do what is right."

"Then I shall wish you the best possible luck." Rising, Minerva held out her hand. "Good luck, Hermione. To you, and to Harry and Ron. Do keep me apprised of what you can, when you can."

Nodding, Hermione shook hands with the older witch, then left the office. Heat spilled into the sides of her breasts where they pressed together. Russel was trying to contact her. One eye on the rotating spiral staircase, Hermione pulled out the ring as she descended. The surface was polished smooth. Not just contact her, but talk with her.

Hermione turned left out of the gargoyle-guarded entrance to the Headmistress' study, instead of going straight or right to get to the library. The nearest classroom was her old Arithmancy room. She'd left her book bag in the library, the same as Ron and Harry, but needed paper and pen, and privacy. Unlocking the door, she looked quickly around, but couldn't find anything. Gritting her teeth, Hermione walked up to one of Professor Vector's chalkboards, found the well at the bottom prepped with fresh sticks, and pressed the ring to the dark grey slate with her left palm.

Squinting, she made out the dark ink letters of his message.

Brilliant. Ruddy BRILLIANT of you! He's in a towering fury, and I've just got to share my elation with someone. The Fidelius Charm on both the Weasley residence, AND the school? Bloody fucking brilliant, if you'll pardon my language!

Hermione arched a brow at Russel's crassness, but picked up the chalk and wrote back, Well, it was Fred's idea, initially. Then Moody mentioned the Burrow to McGonagall, and she just carried it through to the logical conclusion for the safety of the school.

...What the bloody hell are you writing with? I can barely make out anything!

Chalk, on a chalkboard in one of the classrooms at the school. It's all I have on hand. Your own ink is barely coming through.

Well, we can't have a precious Hogwarts chalkboard going up in flames. Go find paper.

The ring turned cold, under her palm. Withdrawing it from the surface of the slate, she watched as the ink of his words faded, and the chalk of hers crumbled to dust, drifting to the floor. Tucking the ring back out of sight, Hermione debated whether or not to break into Professor Vector's office. In the end, she decided to just head back to the library. It would be faster, even if it ran the risk of her conversation with Russel being uncovered.

Nodding to Ron and Harry when she arrived, Hermione grabbed a stack of the sheets she had brought, fished a hairpin out of her bag to enchant into a spiral wire, and Transfigured herself a hand-sized notepad. She dug out a Muggle pen and set both beside her, returning to her work, waiting for the ring to burn again.

It remained quiescent for the rest of the day. A little put-out, since she'd gone to the trouble to make herself a tablet she could carry elsewhere, Hermione returned to Headquarters with the other two. Where she discovered a rather upset Arabella Figg, a torn-eared tabby, and a glowering Crookshanks. Using one of the healing charms she'd learnt got her back in the elderly lady's good graces, but she had to pick up Crookshanks and carry him back to her room.

Whatever fuss he'd gotten into with the calico, at least he wasn't harmed. Setting him on her bed, Hermione gave him a lecture about Getting Along With The Other Cats. She knew he probably wasn't paying attention to it--half-kneazle smart or otherwise--but she had to do something to work off the nerves of waiting for Russel to contact her.