Voyage of the Dawn Treader

She rose from the comfortable armchair she had ensconced herself in, stretching to work the kinks out of stiff muscles. Her tea was cold and the house was silent. Padding through the house and down a small flight of stairs, she entered Albus's basement-turned-laboratory to find Professor Snape hovering over a steaming cauldron, the table behind him covered with pots full of the spiny Venus Fly Trap.

Chapter Seventeen // Voyage of the Dawn Treader

"How are the trials with the plants going?" she asked, stepping into the room. Upon entering, she noticed that he had rolled the sleeves of his robes up while brewing, exposing skinny white forearms. She couldn't remember ever seeing more than his face and hands exposed before now.

"Passable. I've had to dilute the solution a bit to keep from killing the plants. Did you find anything of use in that book?"

"I think. It seems that the hard part won't be removing the soul from the body, but keeping Mr. Weasley from leaving it. The reason that the inga no kusari breaks is that once the soul is outside the body, the person is naturally pulled to leave their body behind and 'pass on.' We have to bind his soul to this plane of existence and keep lost souls from entering his living body. We'll need all the children to do the binding, though, which could present a problem. Do you know if anyone has heard from Percy?"

An emotion she could not name passed over Severus's face. "I have seen him. I do not know that he could be brought here, however. You should speak with Albus. I know of a protective ward that we could use to keep Arthur's physical form from harm. The Planar Ward is powerful enough to keep even the worst of the umbral creatures away."

"The Planar Ward? Isn't that considered Dark magic?" she asked, settling onto a tall stool near the lab table.

"There are only three Dark spells in all of Wizardkind, Hermione. In its rawest form, magic is neither dark nor light – it simply is. It is the intent of the caster that makes it Dark or Light magic. This is why those are the only three Unforgivables – you have to truly want to cause the most excruciating pain imaginable, to bend someone completely to your will, to take a life." He turned to the cabinet behind him and pulled out a large green-speckled horn. It did not harm his bare hands, but where it brushed the material of his rolled-up sleeves the fabric smoked.

"But what about other spells, like the Slicing Hex and the Hurling Hex? Those both intend to cause pain and can kill someone... though, I suppose the intent isn't quite the same, is it?" She watched him take a scraper and shave off a little of the horn, her eyes widening slightly as the removed portion turned a vivid purple.

"Well reasoned. The intent required when casting a Slicing Hex – I wish to cut this thing – doesn't have to be deadly, or even malicious. Most hexes and jinxes started out as something fairly innocent. The Leg-Locker and Full-Body Bind Curses were used in medicine before modern pain-numbing potions were invented. They prevented the patient from thrashing about and harming themselves further. Even early curses designed to do harm would not cross certain boundaries. The Order's library has some books on the history and etymology of spells; I believe you would find it interesting."

"I will have to look into those. It's fascinating to think of where all these spells came from," she said, watching him methodically shred dickelroot and gently stir it into the potion.

They sat there in silence for a few moments, him stirring, her watching. After those few moments, Severus's voice broke the silence.

"Why aren't you trying to look at it?" he asked, a look of irritation on his face.

"I thought it would bother you. Naturally, I'm very curious about the modifications you've made to it, especially with that Coranthis Horn you put in –"

"Not the potion! The Dark Mark! Any one of your little friends would have been looking for it the instant they saw my exposed arm."

Hermione carefully considered her next words and then replied, "I didn't think about it; I wouldn't have thought of it at all if you hadn't brought it up. Obviously I know it's there, but it doesn't bother me."

He didn't say anything more after that, just kept his head bent to his brewing. Wondering at the reason behind his outburst, she headed upstairs to look for Albus.

She found him in the greenhouse, clipping sprigs off of a tall stalk of lemon basil. He greeted her warmly, and she picked up a pair of clippers to help. Snipping away at a large rosemary bush, she told him of the binding ritual and asked him about Percy Weasley.

"Is there no other way?" he asked, not meeting her eyes.

"The binding ritual calls for all of them to be present. I don't see a way around that. It may be possible to conduct the ritual without him, but it will lack the strength needed to hold Mr. Weasley to this plane."

"You must understand my predicament, Hermione. Percy Weasley is yet another spy within the Death Eaters – my only contact on their side within the Ministry. Severus was quite helpful, but as a professor, Voldemort rarely involved him in the bureaucratic end of things. Percy has had to renounce all ties with his family – given his heritage; Voldemort has him watched very closely, and it is hard enough getting information to me without his knowledge. If he is brought to his family, Voldemort will surely know."

"But without him, Arthur could die!" she cried, not believing her ears.

"I must consider the price of his life. Is the life of one man worth more than the numerous lives Percy Weasley could save?"

She couldn't listen to anymore. She threw her clippers and the bits of rosemary to the ground and ran outside, through the woods to the lonely swing that stood just out of sight of the house. She curled up on a corner of the swing, arms around her knees, and sobbed.

How could such a choice be made? How could Albus be so indifferent about the life of Arthur Weasley? She wept for all that was lost, and for all there was yet to lose.

"He does not mean to be cold. He only thinks as a General would," the uncharacteristically soft voice of Severus Snape came from behind her. She looked up to see him standing several feet away from her, arms crossed over his chest and staring out into the snow.

"How did Percy even get involved in that?" she asked, hiccoughing and rummaging in her pockets for a handkerchief.

"He asked to be. The Dark Lord is a physical manifestation of disorder and chaos – two things that Percy Weasley cannot abide. He asked what he could do to help, and Albus was more than happy to find him a place. I took him before the Dark Lord, and a tracking device was placed upon him that monitors him when he is in proximity to those of his own blood. It can only be removed by the Dark Lord."

"Albus said he had to decide the price of his life. I wish it didn't have to be that way. I wish we could save them all," she said sadly. "It's cold. I'm going back in for a cup of tea." Then, almost as an afterthought, she said, "Would you like some?"

For a moment she thought he was going to accept, but then he said, "I don't have time for tea. I have something I must do."

**

The next day after classes, Hermione was cornered by a very angry-looking Harry. "What are you up to?" he demanded, leading her into an empty classroom.

"I'm working on something that might help Ron's father," she said. "I'm sorry I didn't say anything, but you two are always together, and I don't want to get Ron's hopes up in case it doesn't work."

"Oh," he said, deflating a bit. "We never see you anymore. How come you don't come to our training sessions?"

"Training sessions?" she asked, confused. "What are you up to?"

"Albus has been teaching us, training Ron and I. We're trying to figure out a way to destroy Voldemort without using the Killing Curse. Albus seems to be set on using the power of love, but I think it's a load of rubbish. There's got to be another way." He ran his hands through his unkempt hair, his frustration evident.

"I'll start looking for spells that might help. The Order's library is fascinating; I wonder if Albus has even managed to read everything in it yet," she said.

"Right now, I think I'd rather you just try to help Mr. Weasley. How's that coming, by the way?"

"Fairly well. We've hit a snag, though – nothing I can talk about, Harry, so don't ask," she said at his questioning look.

He looked a bit offended. "I understand that we've all got things we can't talk about, Hermione, but I miss you. You're never at lunch anymore, and you're hardly ever in the common room. Come on, you're spending the rest of the afternoon with us! You need a break."

Grabbing her by the arm, he dragged her up to the House Commons, a general common room for students of every house. Professor McGonagall had implemented it at the beginning of this year in hopes that a general meeting area would foster more inter-house friendships. Since then, Luna Lovegood and Susan Bones had been added to their group – as well as... Was that Millicent Bulstrode? The bigger girl had a black eye, a half-healed cut above her lip, and Hermione thought her knuckles looked bruised. When he noticed the direction of her glance, he whispered, "She's apparently had a crush on Seamus Finnegan for years. She decided to tell him about it, and some of the other Slytherins heard. Five of them tried to teach her a lesson after dinner last week." He smirked at a huddled group of Slytherins, all of whom looked much worse than Millicent.

As they approached the group, Hermione met Millicent's eyes. Though Millicent (in true Slytherin fashion) let no hint of her feelings show, Hermione knew Millicent was waiting to see Hermione's reaction. She pulled a small bottle out of her book bag and handed it to the other girl. "Murtlap essence. It'll help with your knuckles." Millicent gave her a small smile, and a tentative friendship was formed.

She spent the rest of the evening with her friends, talking, laughing, and enjoying the break from the war. Her thoughts drifted momentarily to a thin man with dark hair, bent over a cauldron. She wondered if he ever took a break, took time just for him. She would find out – after all, she was supposed to be looking after his well-being, wasn't she?

She was so distracted that she ate the pasty Ginny handed her without even looking at it, and regretted it when she sprouted a large sunflower on top of her head. She couldn't be mad about it though, so happy was she to see Ginny out and smiling again.

Soon after that Professor Sprout came in and shooed them all to their common rooms. She went reluctantly, having enjoyed the evening, but slept better that night than she had in a month. She had a very strange dream involving Venus Flytraps, lemons, and a dark-haired man wreathed in flames, but remembered none of it the next morning.

**

No, not that kind of lemons. Not yet.

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader is the third book written in the Chronicles of Narnia series and is generally accepted as the fifth book in the storyline.