Four

It was approaching midnight. Hermione staggered back to the common room. Between the news about Sirius and Harry's fight with Luna, she had gotten little work done, but she was too tired to even think of turning back time. She'd get up early and tackle her Arithmancy homework in the morning. Harry had disappeared again once he had been let out of the Hospital Wing. Hermione couldn't blame him. The questioning from both teachers and students had yet to abate. Luna wasn't talking, she seemed to have sunk back into the listless malaise that had kept her in the Hospital Wing in the first place. Neither of them seemed bothered by the house-points they had lost nor the detention they were going have to spend mucking out the Flobberworm enclosures.

McGonagall had been not been amused.

The Fat Lady was not happy to be woken from her snooze. Hermione pushed the grumbling portrait aside. Harry had probably already snuck off to bed. It sounded like a good idea to her.

A sound caught her attention. Hermione's steps stopped. The common room was deserted. She hesitated, looking longingly towards the stairs and her bed. Somewhere in the castle the great clock struck twelve. She placed a foot on the step. A soft sob followed her out of the darkness. She sighed and turned back. The low fire was the only light left burning. The clusters of high backed chairs made it hard to pinpoint the sound.

Another noise came from behind. Someone was staggering down the boys staircase. Hermione felt the air go out of her as a dark, solid figure tripped down the last few steps and landed right on top of her.

"Oof, buggering hell, sorry about that." The dark figure helped her up. The firelight highlighted familiar features.

"Neville?" Hermione said quietly, massaging her hip. Neville peered at her for a moment.

"Is that you Hermione?" he whispered, a smile spreading across his face. "Sorry about that, in a bit of a daze." He was already in rumpled pyjamas. He looked around the common room, smile widening. It was unnatural to be so cheerful at this time of night. A muffled hiccup drew their attention. Hermione scanned the shadowed chairs as Neville stepped forward, wand in hand.

Brown eyes peered out at them from around one of the large fire-facing armchairs. A cascade of red hair identified her even in the low light.

"Ginny?" Hermione said, hurrying over, "Whats wrong?"

Ginny's eyes were red-rimmed, and her hair stuck to her damp cheeks. "Hermione? It happened again!" The younger girl said, burying her head into the cushion.

"What happened?" Hermione said, placing a hand on her trembling shoulder.

"Are you hurt?" Neville said. He lit his wand with a whispered word. The cool white light illuminating the three of them. Ginny looked rumpled and distressed but not harmed.

"I don't remember!"

Hermione felt herself go cold. "What?"

"I don't remember. I woke up this afternoon and I smelt of that place and… and I don't remember anything."

"Of where?" Hermione asked. She gently stroke the girls clenched hands. Ginny relaxed a little, and Hermione trailed her hand further up the younger girl's wrists, nudging Ginny's sleeve out of the way.

No bruises.

"Of the Chamber," Ginny whispered into the cushions. "It's just like last year, waking up with mud splattered robes and that stagnant smell clinging to everything. Not knowing what you did the night before."

Oh. Hermione tried not to let pity show on her face. Last year had been hard for a lot of people, but none more so than Ginny. It was easy to forget just what she had gone through. Ginny certainly never brought it up. Still such a thing had to leave a mark.

"The Diary was destroyed," she said, glancing at Neville. The details of Ginny's involvement were not common knowledge, but he asked no questions. His attention was focused solely on the girl in front of them. His mouth set in a grim line. "Harry shoved a Basilisk fang right through it. Dumbledore told him it's power was completely destroyed."

"But what if he was wrong?" Ginny said, her voice hollow. "Sometimes I dream that he's hiding inside me still, waiting." Hermione wondered if anyone had ever actually spoken to Ginny about what had happened at all, or if they had all just thought it best forgotten.

If there was no such thing as wizard therapists she might have to invent the profession.

"Do you remember going to bed last night?" Hermione asked carefully. Ginny nodded, hiccuping slightly as her breathing came back under control. "Did you wake up with mud all over you?"

"No, but I slept so late, and all my clothes were folded and fresh when I woke up."

"That could have been the house elves," Hermione murmured, thinking of Dobby. Neither Ginny nor Neville looked particularly surprised at the mention of house elves in the castle, but then they were both purebloods.

"Sometimes stuff like smells can trigger flashbacks to when something bad has happened," Neville said, his voice soft. He caught her look of supprise. "My grandmother fought in Gindelwald's War, It could happen to her sometimes at with sudden noises," he added.

"But I can smell it!" Ginny said, thrusting a lock of her long hair towards them.

"A lot of people got wet watching Harry and Luna's fight," Hermione said soothingly, bringing the girls wrist down to her lap. "Your bed is right by the coat racks by the dorm door isn't it? I bet there were a lot of damp cloaks there around the time you woke up."

"I guess… I might have gotten worked up for nothing." Ginny said looking down, "Wait, Harry and Luna fought? Why?" They both looked at her.

"Uh, I'm not sure exactly," She said, glancing at Neville for help.

"But you said they didn't know each other," Ginny said. It came out like an accusation.

"I didn't think they did," Hermione said. Evidently she had been wrong. Anyone with half a brain could tell that duel had been personal. What it had been about she could not begin to fathom. Harry had made it quite clear he was not about to talk about it, as he had hovered over Luna's stunned body in the Hospital Wing. McGonagall had docked more points. He hadn't cared in the slightest.

She wondered if there was any point in expecting an explanation from him.

"Luna is very straight-forward about certain things," Neville said quietly, as he looked at Ginny.

"You know her?" Hermione asked.

Neville shrugged. "She's a pureblood," he said. Ginny nodded as if that explained everything.

"Did anyone get hurt?"

"I don't think they were trying to hurt each other," Hermione said. "At least not seriously," she amended, remembering the sound of Luna's fist connecting with Harry's cheek. Neville snorted. Hermione eyed him for a moment but this was not the time to ask.

Ginny looked ready to ask more questions that Hermione didn't have any answers for. Neville interrupted her. He reached down and touched her forehead with the back of his hand.

"If you are still feeling bad maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey just to be sure. You've had a fright Gin, maybe she can help reassure you you're just you," Neville said. Hermione glanced sideways at him, but what he heard he would never spread.

"Or Dumbledore," Hermione said, unease still lurking in the back of her mind.

"Madam Pomfrey might have some Soothing Drought," Ginny murmured. She took Neville's offered hand and he pulled her to her feet.

"I'll go with you," Neville said softly taking her arm as she swayed on her feet.

"I'll come," Hermione said.

Neville eyed her. "No offense Hermione, but you look half dead. Go to bed, I'll take care of it."

"But-"

"Go, I'll be fine with Neville," Ginny said, already looking more like her usual self. "At least one of us should get some decent sleep."

Hermione didn't have it in her to protest further, she stumbled back towards the stairs and was asleep before her head his the pillow.

Ginny seemed better the next morning. Hermione smiled at her as she sat down next to Ron for breakfast. The girl was sitting with her year-mates. Apparently the trip to Madam Pomfrey had done the trick.

"Morning." Hermione said as Harry slunk in to sit beside her. "Coming out of hiding at last?"

Harry didn't smile. He poked his food around his plate, his mind elsewhere. There was a certain amount of whispering going on around them. Hermione casually turned her head to look at the Ravenclaw table. Luna sat with her back to them, surrounded by her classmates. It seemed that knocking about the Boy-Who-Lived had gained her a measure of notoriety amongst her peers. Hermione could tell by the set of her shoulders she was not enjoying it.

The owls swooped down with the mornings post. Neville opened the front page of the Prophet and promptly choked on his orange juice. He shot a glance at Harry. Hermione peered over his shoulder. The front page was still full of Sirius Black, a lurid piece citing 'anonymous sources' claiming his original conviction was invalid. Hermione stopped reading as Neville turned the page. The Prophet was going to squeeze every ounce of blood it could from this story. She hoped those sources didn't find the link to their Boy-Who-Lived. This Skeeter woman would have a field day.

"What you got there Harry?" Ron said, as Harry untied a bundle of papers from Hedwig's leg. Harry rolled them up. Glossy thin paper not found in the Wizarding World.

"Is that a tube map?" Hermione asked, spotting a familiar symbol.

"The Dursley's expect me to make my own way home this summer." Harry said after a moment. Hermione felt a familiar coil of anger settle in her gut at his carefully controlled expression.

"Whats a tube?" Ron said.

"Underground trains, muggles built them all under London to get around."

"Wicked, it must get smoky under there, bet the Goblins hate that," Ron said sagely.

Hermione opened her mouth and then shut it again. She couldn't be bothered this morning. Tiredness dragged at her like a hangover. She wondered if she could beg a Pepper-Up Potion from Madam Pomfrey. On second thoughts, that might get back to McGonagall. She didn't want to look like she was overusing the time-turner again. Perhaps she could get Dobby to come back with his potions case.

A long shadow interrupted her musing. The chatter around them quelled Hermione looked up into the grave face of Dumbledore.

Beside her Harry stilled, his eyes narrowed but they remained firmly on his plate.

"Mr Weasley, Mr Potter. I afraid I need to speak to you." Dumbledore said. Harry set down his cutlery and carefully wiped his figures on his napkin. Hermione could see the tendons in his neck.

"What about?" Ron asked.

"It is to do with your rat Mr Weasley," Dumbledore said.

Ron paled. Hermione patted his hand. He grasped her wrist and rose, bringing her up with him. He kept his head down, staring at the floor. Hermione looked at him, she could see the worst case scenario playing across his mind. She stepped closer, shielding his face from the eyes of the hall.

"Miss Granger can come also, if you like," Dumbledore said, his eyes kind. " Mr Potter?"

After a moment Harry stood, one hand slipped casually into his pocket. "After you Professor," he said, eyes cast down. Dumbledore regarded him for a long moment, but Harry did not look at him.

Harry had once told her that of all the teachers offices, Dumbledores was the most interesting. He was not wrong. The large domed room was full of strange, spindly devices, and the bookshelves were stuffed with fat, ancient tomes. Hermione longed to wander around touching things and asking questions, but she stayed at Ron's side as they stood before the headmasters great mahogany desk.

To the side of it was a spiraling golden perch. Harry had also described Fawkes to her. He hadn't done the phoenix justice. It curved its slender head towards the three of them. Slanting sunbeams played across its plumage and Hermione could almost see the flicker of flame. It spread it's wings. Hermione felt her breath catch as the sunlight set the bird ablaze.

Ron was staring at the floor and was not expecting it when the Phoenix decided to relocate to his head.

"Gah, get off!" Ron said, ducking. Fawkes unfurled his magnificent wings and tugged upwards. "Alright!" Ron stood upright as the phoenix settled on its new perch. Ron made a face at the bird as he rubbed his sore scalp. Fawkes ignored him.

Hermione smothered a giggle and wished dearly that she had a camera. Harry looked on with a strange half smile. His had rose, as if to touch the birds soft feathers. Fawkes' head snaked around, it's eyes fixing on his. Harry's hand dropped away.

"It's good to see you again old boy," he said softly, sadly. The bird looked away.

"Pheonix's are sensitive to pure souls, as Mr Potter found out last year," Dumbledore said, watching them. Harry resumed his study of the carpet. "Some chairs I think." He conjured them some armchairs to sit in. Fawkes hopped down to Ron's lap. It pushed its small feathered head into Ron's hands. A small smile spread across his face, but it faded as he turned back to Dumbledore.

"Whats happened to Scabbers?" he said his voice wavering only slightly.

Dumbledore regarded them over his half-moon spectacles.

"I apologise that you have been kept in the dark about your pet Mr Weasley. I would like to ask you if you have any idea who could have placed him in a Subjugation Jar?"

Mutely, Ron shook his head. "We tried to find out professor," Hermione said, "but nobody in Gryffindor would have a reason to go after Ron's pet." She looked at Harry, who sat unmoving in his chair.

Dumbledore's eyes took in the three of them for a long minute. Hermione tried not to squirm in her seat. "The unravelling of everything that resulted from you bringing your rat to Professor McGonagall can scarcely be believed, even by me. Some of them only became apparent to me yesterday when I was able to speak to Sirius Black," Dumbledore said.

"What?" Ron said. Hermione stared at Dumbledore dumbfounded. "He's just a rat! Tell me whats going on!"

So Dumbledore did.

Almost an hour later, they sat stunned in their seats. Ron was as pale as milk. He had gagged when Dumbledore had conjured up the likeness of Peter Pettigrew. Harry was grim and silent beside her. He had been even as Dumbledore had told him what had really happened in the lead-up to his parents murder. Hermione was shaking with rage as yet another tragedy befell him. It had yet to occur to him that if not for this miscarriage of justice, Harry needn't have ever live with the Dursleys.

"There's no doubt?" Hermione asked, as he stopped talking. Fawkes left Ron and came to settle on the back of her chair, she felt the softness of it's down against her cheek. It's warmth was like a banked fire, calming her seething emotions.

"-I took him in the shower-"

"Very little," Dumbledore said quietly, "I have spoken to both Mr Pettigrew and Mr Black. It has become apparent that in our victory we failed out most basic principles."

"When will he be freed?" Harry said cutting straight to the chase. He looked at Dumbledore at last, his eyes shuttered. Dumbledore gave him a searching look, concern written across his face.

"The Ministry is reluctant to examine new evidence on a closed case, especially one so infamous as Sirius Black's," Dumbledore said. He held out a hand as Harry went to rise. "Which is not an answer I am willing to accept. I have summoned his original prosecutor here to discuss the matter." At that moment the fire turned green. "I should have perhaps remembered Barty's famous punctuality," Dumbledore said. He stepped forward to greet the figure in a pinstriped robe that stepped out of the fire.

"Good morning Dumbledore," the man said, brushing the soot from his robes. He looked at the three of them arrayed in front of Dumbledore's desk. His eyes traveled from Harry's scar to Ron's hair. "The injured parties I assume?" he said.

"Certainly parties that have been injured by Mr Pettigrews actions. They were entitled to know about the present situation," said Dumbledore. "Students this is Mr Barty Crouch Senior, former Head of the Council of Magical Law." Mr Crouch nodded at them.

"Is it wise to include children in this discussion Dumbledore?" Mr Crouch said. He did not look pleased by their presence.

His name sounded familiar to her. She was sure she had read it in books about the Voldemort's war. Dumbledore looked about to reply, before he could, Harry rose. "Harry Potter," he said, holding out his hand.

"Yes, I know," Mr Crouch said briskly as he took it.

Harry spoke quickly. "If I can ask your opinion Mr Crouch, now that W-Pettigrew is in custody, what do you think the Ministry's course of action will be? Considering the circumstances of Sirius Black's original conviction." His tone held nothing but politeness, but the implication was clear. Crouch's expression did not change. He looked at Harry, and for a moment Hermione thought he would refuse to answer.

"Sirius Black was never tried before a jury of his peers." Crouch said plainly. Hermione hadn't expected him to come out and say it but he did and he looked them in the eye as he did so."He was convicted on the strength of the evidence against him. Evidence that included testimony from his friends and colleges and recovered memories of surviving muggles." Mr Crouch looked at Dumbledore. "I interviewed you myself."

Dumbledore bowed his head. "And I believed him guilty."

"We put away many unrepentant Death Eaters in much the same way. I make no apologies for that. However many were the sons and daughters of great houses. Aside from them embarrassment it would cause them. The Ministry's concern will be what the overturning of Blacks conviction might start," Crouch continued as he sat in a self-conjured chair.

"That's no excuse to keep him in Azkaban!" Hermione said. Harry's face darkened. The unfairness of it burned in her gut. Fawkes pressed against her cheek.

I'll kill that rat-bastard if I have to break into Azkaban to do it.

Fear, rage, and the echo of Harry's voice. Hermione blinked as it passed unteathered across her mind. Then it was gone. Fawkes regarded her with one liquid eye.

Crouch shook his head. He looked tired, she thought suddenly, like an old General worn down by the minutia of peace. "The reappearance of Pettigrew cannot be ignored. Procedure must be followed. There will be an investigation, should he be found innocent, heads will roll." He didn't look like he much care whether his would be on the chopping block.

"Sirius will unfortunately have to await trial in Azkaban however I believe he will walk free at the end of it all," Dumbledore interjected, he glanced at the clock on his desk. " If I keep you any longer you will be late to class." Harry and Ron both looked like they strongly like they wanted to object but all three of them were pushed firmly out of the door.

"If Sirius' account can be verified…" Dumbledores voice drifted through the heavy wood.

"If. I have my doubts Dumbledore. Failing to murder one person does not automatically acquit him of the other twelve Dumbledore. The Blacks have always been dark, you yourself suspected him."

"I only ask advice to ensure that the proper procedures are followed…"

"Yes of course…"

The staircase started its grinding decent. The noise covering any more nuggets of information.

"I can't believe it," Hermione said, finding her voice at last. "It's insane, the whole thing is completely crazy."

"He slept in my bed!" Ron said, his voice strangled. "he's seen me change and do other…" Ron's voice trailed off as he went abruptly white.

"Do need to sit down?" Hermione said. She and Harry led him to a window ledge. Ron sank down, his eyes wide and staring. She glanced across to Harry. He was taking his devastating and life-changing news a little better. At least she hoped he was.

Sirius Black was innocent.

Sirius Black was Harry's godfather.

Hermione wished she could talk to Harry about it. She shot a look at a spluttering Ron and tried to be fair to his own state of shock.

"How can it be possible?" she said. She knew that the Ministry was not perfect, but she had granted it the same automatic trust her parents gave the muggle system. The idea an innocent person could rot for twelve years in Azakban when wizards had truth potions and pensieves shook her. The possibility of him might being left there to avoid embarrassment shocked her to the core.

"We're going to be late for class," Harry said quietly.

"Screw class!" Ron said, throwing his arms in the air. "My rat was the buggering Death Eater that betrayed your parents, and your mass murdering godfather is an innocent man! Do we not get some time to process this?"

"I don't know," Harry said, his voice even, "why don't you ask Snape? I'm sure he'll be understanding."

Hermione nodded reluctantly and hauled Ron up. "Come on, we don't want detention on top of everything else. We can loose our minds later."

"Are you two not comprehending what I'm saying? My rat was a Death Eater."

"I know,"Hermione said soothingly as she and Harry led him away, "How does that make you feel?"

Wizard Therapist was a profession that needed to be invented.

The classroom was too warm. Professor Vector was built like a spider and was unable to bare the smallest breeze. The sun beat down on the tightly-closed windows and lanced into Hermione's aching eyes.

Quantifiable numerical formula is inherent in many branches of Enchantment, Potions, and Rituals. All use the rules of Arithmancy to enhance desired effects. It is often as important a component as ingredients or evocations.

Getting away from Harry and Ron to turn back for Arithmancy had been difficult. Ron was in no way over the shock that his rat was a Death Eater. She had finally slipped away when they went looking for the twins.

Certain numerical values and sequences are intrinsically more powerful than others. Power comes with increased instability and the frequency of significant integers require complex nonlinear equations expressed most commonly as runic diagrams.

Her head heart. Hermione resisted the urge to put her head in her hands. Now they knew why someone would want to capture Scabbers but they still didn't know who had known. She massaged her temples. She didn't want to think about how Harry had more motivation than anyone else to capture the… rat-basted. The phrase rung oddly in her head, an echo in Harry's voice. She closed her eyes against the stabbing sunlight. Trying to remember what hovered frustrating out of reach…

"Miss Granger!"

"Hmm?" Hermione emerged from her thoughts to blink up at the exasperated face of Professor Vector. She looked around at the watching class and flushed.

Professor Vector raised an eyebrow. "Daydreaming Miss Granger? That is not like you. Would you like me to repeat the question?"

Hermione looked across at Parvati, the only other Gryffindore to share her class. The other girl could do nothing but shoot her a sympathetic look. "Yes Professor, sorry," she said meekly.

Her teacher gave her a look. "For rituals and potions utilizing Georgian cycles what is the most common amplifying value when the pertinent signifier uses the Sunnandæg principle?"

Hermione thought back to the textbooks she had barely skimmed that morning. She had been so tired, she had considered pulling the curtains around and getting back into bed with herself.

"Seven?" she said. Seven was always a good bet, that or three.

Professor Vector narrowed her eyes at her. "Correct, five points to Gyffindor," she said. Parvati gave her a thumbs up. Hermione tried to listen, but her parchment remained unblemished as the words sleeted past her.

The numerical values used can impact the expressed potency in the end result. For example, Polyjuice Potion is potent for seven days after its creation. Ancient rituals commonly used calenderic cycles to boost primitive enchantments and evocations. The potency of these magical mechanisms should not be underestimated. Curse-Beakers have noted that Egyptian builders used the same principles that can be found in modern…

"Miss Granger."

Hemione sat up. "Yes?" she said, hoping she had not missed another question, but the class was packing up around her.

"A word with you," Vector said.

Hermione's heart sank. She waited in front of her teachers desk until the last of the students filed out. Vector could outclass Snape when it came to intimidation. Unlike Snape, Hermione admired her. Professor Vector was who McGonagall had sent Hermione to when her questions about time travel had gotten too technical. She shifted from foot to foot as Vector shuffled today's runic graphing exercises to one side. Her failure to finish the required reading felt stamped across her forehead.

"How are you getting along?"

"Wha-pardon?" Hermione asked, thrown.

Vector steepled her fingertips and gazed over them in a very Dumbledore-like fashion. "Until recently, I felt that the time-turner was a benefit to you. You were handling you're workload well. However these past few weeks have caused me some concern."

"I'm fine," Hermione said. Vector looked unconvinced. "Really, I slept very late last night, but not because I used the time-turner. I've cut back a lot recently," She wished she sounded less like the people who came looking for pain pills at her parent's dentistry.

"Turning time can be an addictive thing, particularly when you feel overwhelmed."

Hermione tried not to panic. McGonagall didn't need much of an excuse to confiscate her device. A few concerns from Vector is all it would take.

"Yes Professor."

"The more ambitious you are, the greater the cost. There is a reason we limit it, Miss Granger."

"I know Professor, I did all the reading before they gave it to me," Hermione said meekly, she needed to find a way to reassure her. She tried to project the image of a chastised yet attentive student who was not running on only four hours sleep.

Vector's face softened. "I am just asking if there is anything that you are worried about. Time-travel can take its toll on the mind."

For just a moment, Hermione wavered. Blaming all her wretched suspicious on the time-turner was better than admitting Harry might be turning into someone she didn't recognise.

Perhaps it would all go back to normal if she just gave up the time turner.

The classroom was silent for a few beats too long. Hermione lifted her eyes. "No," she lied. "I will keep an eye out though, thank you Professor." Vector held her gaze, then she sighed. Hermione felt a little more of her credibility slip away. In her head she composed an apology.

She couldn't give it up. There were too many questions that required answers.

"Wood's looking for Harry, and he is pissed," Ron said flopping down next to her.

"Did he skip practice again last night? He's gonna get thrown off the team," Hermione said, not looking up from her reading. She had drawn up a new schedule that minimised her use of the time-turner as much as possible and she was going to stick with it.

"That's what Wood said, he's convinced Harry's chucking it in for a girl."

"What Harry? Who?" Hermione asked, raising her eyes. Ginny was sitting in one of the armchairs by the window. She had been pale and withdrawn since Sunday night, had it been Harry, rather than Neville hovering around her Hermione reckoned she would have been in an altogether better mood.

"Luna," Ron said, enjoying the look on her face.

"Seriously? She sent him to the hospital wing," Hermione said.

Ron shrugged. "Fred and George saw him sneaking off with her last night, or so they say. You never know with those guys."

"They're just stirring the pot," Hermione said. She picked up a discarded newspaper and flicked through it. Nothing new on Black, just some regurgitated speculation beneath a big article about a cursed house-fire. There was a statement from the Fudge. She turned the pages to the rest of the article.

Blacks so-called evidence is nothing more than attempt to weaken the foundations of post-war justice in a politically motivated attack on the present administration. We expect a swift resolution to this farce and should he be found guilty he will receive the punishment reserved for all those seeking to escape Azkaban.

Well, wasn't encouraging. Still an inconveniently alive murder victim would be difficult to dispute for all Fudges blustering.

"That's what I said, but they were sure of it. Dunno why they're sneaking about through, its not like everyone hasn't been speculating like crazy since the fight."

"Its ridiculous," Hermione said, "He's barely spoken to her since." But he made her flowers, she remembered the carefully crafted blooms by her bed.

"Yeah I'm way prettier, why should he get to find a girlfriend first?" Ron said.

Hermione smiled at him. "I'm sure you will Ron."

The tips of his ears flushed red. "Not that I want one right now, girls are a lot of trouble, no offence."

"Plenty taken," she said dryly, picking her book back up."He's had a lot on his plate lately, perhaps he just doesn't feel like Quidditch."

Ron gave her a pitying look. As if she had some deficiency in the brain. "Sure Hermione that'll be it. I don't know why we're bothering to listen to them, a few days ago they said they spotted Harry talking to Malfoy of all people."

"Really?"

"They swore to it." Ron looked troubled. " I mean he's been weird lately but I can't see him palling around with Malfoy."

Hermione wasn't so sure. Not that she'd seen the blond boy outside of lessons. She had thought about asking how his injuries were healing, but she hadn't. Acknowledging those momentary meetings felt like crossing some unspoken line and frankly, opening a can of worms she didn't want to deal with. He seemed fine, if subdued.

Not that Hermione had been worried or anything.

"Where did they say they saw them?" she asked casually.

"Seventh floor, its definitely bullshit there's basically nothing over in that corridor," Ron said.

"Yeah..." Hermione said, "nothing…"

Luna was an odd duck. Hermione knew this already, but she hadn't quite appreciated quite the scope of it until she had started asking around. It seemed her popularity had fast faded when she had ungraciously ignored the interest of her former bullies.

One thing was certain, Harry had been seen hanging around with her. This had been told to her by several people. Her casual questions had not gone unnoticed. One or two, she was sure, would decide to add a love triangle to the already wild rumours surrounding the pair.

Hermione didn't care. It's not like she was jealous. She was upset. Harry was welcome to befriend as many girls he liked. What she didn't understand is why he pretended Luna wasn't one of them.

She didn't know which of them should be more insulted.

Fred and George had told her, after much waggling of the eyebrows, that they spent a lot of time around the Whomping Willow, which would at least guarantee some privacy.

She headed out into the sunlight. The Whomping Willow stood on its own hillock, innocently trailed its fronds in the cool water. It was a deceptively beautiful spot and more than one first year had paid for trying to enjoy it. The tree's long thin branches rustled threateningly as she approached. She gave it a wide berth as she circled it. They weren't there. It was probably just as well she admitted to herself. She wasn't exactly sure what she would have done if she had found them. Jumped out and demanded and explanation like she had a right to one?

No it was best she leave it.

A rustling pulled her thoughts away, she spun round, expecting that the Whomping Willow had decided shed been standing too close.

Instead she saw Luna.

The girl was nestled in the deadly tree, the willow's fronds swaddling her up to the neck.

"Hello Hermione," the girl said.

"Are you okay Luna?" Hermione pulled out her wand. The tree reacted quickly, bowing its branches around its prey. A few, thin fronds snapped vicariously towards her. She stepped back.

"Yes," Luna said. She pushed her way out of her leafy cradle, the tree ran its leaves across her arms as if loathe to let her go, but they slid back as she walked easily over the branches. "He was just protecting me, that's what they are, Guardian Trees."

"It tries to thump anyone who comes near it," Hermione said. Then again, who else would have been mad enough to even try climbing it.

"They should have been more considerate," Luna said, stroking the rough back. "They might have made a friend." The Whomping Willow bowed its branches to the ground and Luna stepped down, the long leaves draped themselves across her like a living shawl.

"What was it protecting you from?" Hermione said, practising patience. The air of melancholy that surrounded Luna had not abated, though at least this time the deigned to speak with her.

"From myself." Gowned in green, the girl looked out at the sparkling lake. "Here the dead speak and the unborn cannot. Yet I cannot cry for them because Hogwarts stands in the sun." Something glinted between her fingers. "In this time, in this place. It is difficult to remember to be me," she said with a sigh, her hand closing.

"Oh right… " Hermione said, her voice studiously neutral. "What do you have there?"

"This?" Luna held up a band of metal, it might have been a ring, before it had been melted and twisted by some great heat. "This was my wedding band. Once upon a time. It was all we had. It came with a promise that ended the world."

"You were married?" she asked the twelve year old. She tried to hold onto that neutral tone. Luna was sad and didn't need more people mocking her. It was difficult, as much as she tried not to judge, Luna more than earned her nickname.

"I guess not," Luna said. She turned the ruined ring over and over in her hands, its dark black stone was cracked clear across the centre. "I guess now we match." Her head came up and she looked at Hermione. "I hear you have been looking for me?"

Hermione squirmed. "I just wanted to talk to you about…" Now the other girl was in front of her it seemed incredibly nosy to just ask. There was something remote about Luna, as if she was seeing you from a long way off.

"You want to know about Harry."

"I'm worried about him," she admitted quietly to a girl she hardly knew.

"As am I," Luna said. "Being here is hard, it's hard to face the might-have been with memories of what-came-to-pass. Knowing we chose when we didn't have the right." She looked at Hogwarts standing in the sunlight. "I should not turn away from what was paid but I am cowardly. So I hide. I'm sorry."

"You fought Harry." Hermione said, trying to cut through Luna's rambling to the heart of the matter.

For the first time a touch of anger crossed the girls placid face. "Harry draws outside the lines, he wins that way," Luna said to the lake and the sky. "Sometimes he needs to be reminded that some lines are not for crossing. We don't play chess with children. He should remember that we came here to be better."

Hermione was getting a headache. She clamped down on her rising irritation, the girl might be talking in circles but she did know Harry, she might know something useful. "I just want to help him."

Luna looked at her. "You have. Let him be."

"What?" Hermione spluttered. The nerve of this girl to just tell her to butt out when she was trying to help her best friend.

"It would be a kindness." There was pity in Luna's eyes and it infuriated her. She really had tried to like Luna, even though the girl's personality irritated her on some fundamental level. She knew what it was like to be an outcast and she had…

Well she had pitied her.

She was being unfair, she knew it, but Luna had touched a nerve. Everything about Harry these past few weeks told her that he no longer trusted her with his troubles. Whatever was going on he wanted her and Ron to have not part in it. She just wanted to know what she had done wrong. She just wanted to fix it.

"Thank you for your advice," she bit out. A wave of dislike rose in her. It was unfair and unfounded but it rose anyway.

Jealousy is an ugly emotion, she discovered as she looked at the girl who had Harry's confidence.

There was no triumph in Luna's luminous blue eyes, only sadness. The other girl looked out at the sun-drenched castle. "We will make it worth it in the end Hermione, we will. I promise."

Hermione walked before she said something she'd regret.

Harry had strange taste, that was for sure.

"Check."

"Bugger," Ron said looking down at the chessboard.

Hermione felt proud of herself, it was rare to put Ron on the defensive. "Where's Harry?" she said, looking around the quiet common room. They had snagged a pair of really comfy armchairs by the fire hours ago, she had been expecting him to show up.

Ron shrugged as he moved his King out of trouble. "Saw him and Neville in the library a few hours back. Looked like they were studying. They had a bunch of maps and big heavy books."

Hermione glanced at the big clock. It was close to nine. "Surely they can't still be there?"

"It looked pretty intense. I stayed well away," Ron said. He was eyeing her bishop in a way she didn't like. She double-checked every angle. "Oh, did I tell you about the letter I got from mum?"

"No, what?" Hermione said.

Ron moved a pawn, an innocent look on his face. "You remember that abandoned Wizard house that got burned down two days back?"

"The one in the paper?" Hermione retrieved a vague memory of the grey-toned flames.

"Yeah, that one. Well apparently it belonged to this really crazy pureblood line called the Gaunts. The fires not gone out and its cursed as hell so Gringotts has contracted my brother Bill, he's a curse-breaker, to come try and make it safe."

"Oh, your mum must be happy," Hermione said, staring at the board.

"Yeah this Scabbers business really shook her. The idea he was living in our house for so long. She'll be glad to have him home for a little bit. Check."

Hermione scowled. Ron had neatly boxed her in. It shouldn't sting her pride but it still did a bit. She had always considered herself pretty good at chess before she'd met him. She could resign now, but then Ron wouldn't have the pleasure of steadily demolishing her defence as she scurried for cover.

"Hey! Hey you!"

Hermione swallowed a scream as a head flickered within the flames of the fireplace.

Ron got up and squatted down by the face made of flames. "Can we help you?"

"Is this Dumbledore's office?" the head said.

"No this is Gryfindore Tower mate, you're a bit off course," Ron said. "Best try again."

"Damn, I only get one use. Still could have been worse, could have been Slytherin," The face looked familiar, but it was hard to tell. "Do you think you can run and get Dumbledore, tell him I need to speak to Harry Potter. He'll err… he'll know who I am."

Memory flickered into focus.

"Sirius Black," she breathed as the same recognition dawned in Ron's eyes.

"Yes that's me," Black said. "So wouldn't it be a good idea to run and tell Dumbledore?" He looked behind at something they couldn't see. "Quickly?"

Hermione looked at Ron. "Go get them," she said quietly, Ron nodded and scrambled to his feet.

Hermione shifted casually to her right so she was blocking the view of Sirius's head. There wasn't too many people close to the fire but it wasn't an empty common room.

"Why do you need to talk to Harry?" Hermione said, keeping her voice low.

Black looked at her. "Do you know him?" he asked.

Hermione reminded herself that he was probably not guilty. "Yeah, I'm Hermione,".

"Ahh, Harry has mentioned you."

"He has?" Hermione said carefully. If Harry had been given the chance to talk to Black since their talk with Dumbledore, he hadn't said anything.

Black stopped and looked at her. "One of his best friends." He said slowly, after a moment. He smiled at her. "Thank you for always having his back."

"Um… That's ok, he always has mine," Hermione said awkwardly. Despite what she knew, it felt uncomfortable to talk to a face she had only seen on wanted posters. "I'm sorry you're um… in prison."

Black relaxed and he smiled again. It was a charming smile for such a ruined face. It made him look younger.

"It's not pleasant, but I've got people on my side this time. Hopefully I can get out the right way, and maybe Harry…" He trailed off, something wistful in his face. "Well I'd have to get a new house first."

Hermione's heart clenched. For Harry to have a home where he was wanted and welcome would be mean everything to him. It was a testament to the awfulness of the Dursleys that she immediately assumed that this ex-ex convicted murder fresh out of prison would be healthier for Harry than his asshole relatives.

"Don't… don't bring it up, until you can be sure," Hermione said, "please." Don't promise him everything he ever wanted only to send him back to the Dursleys.

Black's face softened. "I wasn't the one too, Harry has it all worked out." He chuckled. "Don't worry though I won't stop fighting for it. I can assure you of that." His head turned in the flames, there was a muffled argument with someone she couldn't see. "How long will he be?" Black asked.

"I don't know," Hermione began.

"Sirius!" Black's face lit up as Harry flung himself down next to her. He reached his hand out, as if to touch the flames,"you're alright!"

Hermione looked up to see Dumbledore climbing through the portrait hole. Other students were looking around, but Dumbledore stopped to have a quiet word with Percy. Percy puffed up his chest and started ushering curious onlookers away.

"Harry! Um… How are you… all?" Black said, his eyes flicking up to the approaching Dumbledore.

"Doing the best we can, considering the circumstances," Harry said, his voice more measured. Hermione could see the emotion bubbling under the surface but he held together pretty well.

"Mr Black, it is good to see you, you are acquainted with Harry?" Dumbledore enquirered, his eyes travelling from one to the other.

"I wrote him a letter, nobody said I couldn't," Harry said quickly, a challenging look on his face.

"There's no time for that, they're moving me Dumbledore." Black said quickly, the mummer impatient voices leaked over his words, there was the faint echo of screaming. Black glanced back once again. "Something in the papers got the Death Eaters up in arms, Bella's been the worst, that crazy bitch keeps screaming about protecting some special responsibility. I think they're moving me back to the Ministry. Do I have a hearing?"

"None that I've been informed of," Dumbledore said, his face grim.

"We'll find out." Harry promised.

Black nodded, he looked up at his godson kneeling over him. "Hang in there Harry, I'll see you soon."

For a moment, Harry seemed very young. "We'll have you free before you know it, Sirius."

Sirius smiled. The noise behind him increased and, for a moment, a large hand was visible. Sirius mouth opened, but before he could utter a sound he was snatched away.

"I will make esquires immediately," Dumbledore said, rising from his chair. Harry sat back on his heels, still staring at the empty fireplace.

"Is it usual to move prisoners on such short notice? So late at night?" Hermione asked as she trailed him to the portrait hole.

"There has been news of late that might have reached the followers of Voldemort." Dumbledore said, pausing at the portrait hole. "It is possible that the Ministry is simply taking precautions."

"You don't think so though," Harry said his the contours of his face highlighted in flickering flame.

" A matter took me away from Hogwarts today, there may be developments at the Ministry I am not aware of. I will have more information for you in the morning."

The rest of the night was tense. Morning rolled around and Hermione watched the sun rise with resignation. She had slept a little or at least thought she had. She padded down the stairs to the common room. It was too early for breakfast, but there was always tea and toast at this time. Provided by the house elves she presumed. There had to be a kitchen somewhere then, as well as a laundry. She couldn't believe she had been blind to such things until now.

Harry was sitting where she had left him the night before, staring into the fire. Papers and books were stacked around him in messy piles. His eyes were glazed and Hermione thought he was sleeping, but he stirred the moment she placed a slippered foot on the wooden boards.

"How are you doing?" Hermione asked softly as she approached. Neville was snoring in one of the adjacent chairs, the sleep-rumpled boy must have stayed up all night to keep Harry company.

Harry gifted her with a weary smile. "Alright," he said. "Worried," he amended as Hermione gave him a doubtful look.

"Dumbledore will get to the bottom of it."

"I hate just sitting around, I should just…" Harry crumpled a crude diagram under his hand.

"Sirius wants to walk free." Neville had woken up. "Only the Ministry can do that."

"They're pulling some trollshit," Harry said, his face dark.

"We should eat," Hermione said. She didn't much feel like food, but it was better than sitting and brooding.

They were some of the first to breakfast. Hermione ate slowly, watching people trickle into the Hall. Dumbledore was not at the table, nor was McGonagall.

"Eat," Hermione urged Harry. He didn't even seem to hear her, his eyes fixed on the doors. Hermione placed a hand on his arm, every muscle was stung as tight as bowstrings.

Neville reached around and pressed a piece of toast. "The only thing you can do is prepare," he said. His quiet voice seemed to penetrate where Hermione's had not. He took a bite, and then another. Neville pilled food onto his plate. Harry ate mechanically.

"It will be alright." Hermione said. She hoped it was true.

Ron sloped in as the post arrived, his hair resembling a haystack. Hermione snatched Neville's paper before his owl had even landed. She had to subscribe.

"Steady on." Ron said as the post owl spread its wings in agitation.

She breathed out, relief rushing through her like a wave.

DEATH EATER RIOT AT AZKABAN!

"See. This must be why they moved him," she said, shoving it under the boy's noses. Harry's eyes focused on the headline. His shoulders relaxed.

"Makes sense, they know he's not one of them," Neville murmured, his eyes scanning the page. There had apparently been a mistake made with the Auror rotations after a ministry inspection. There been no escapes but two Death Eaters had been killed.

Neville stilled as he read the names.

Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange.

"Some good news at last," Harry murmured, a vicious smile growing across his face.

"They might have been criminals, but they didn't deserve to be killed when they're doing their time," Hermione said reprovingly. One prisoner had gotten hold of a wand. Hermione shivered at the sight of the dark mark hovering over Azkaban. The article was scathing about the state of security at the prison. Fudge was apparently trying to blame the Dementors.

"You're right Hermione," Neville said, his eyes fixed on the page. The mugshot of Bellatrix Lestrange stared him down, a smile playing on her lips. "They didn't get what they deserved."

There was something under those softly spoken words that made Hermione look again, but Neville neatly slid the front page out of the newspaper and folded it until it would fit in his pocket.

"Hey Hermione, turn to page six would yon?" Ron said, a letter from home in his hand.

Hermione flicked through the remains of the paper. "There," she said, showing Ron what he was looking for. The young man standing beside a smoking ruin was unmistakable a Weasley.

"That's my brother Bill," Ron confirmed happily, showing the paper to their housemates. Hermione smiled as people leaned over to take a look.

"Look, there's Dumbledore in the background. I guess that explains where he was yesterday," Hermione said, tapping a small figure staring at the smouldering house, there was no mistaking that beard.

Then she saw it.

"He manage to put the fire out. There were some really nasty curses under a runaway fire spell- what?" Ron turned when she gripped his arm.

"Look."

ANIMAGUS DIES IN AUROR CUSTODY

"Merlin," Ron breathed. They both turned to look at Harry who was chuckling at something Ginny had said.

"H-Harry," Hermione said, her mouth dry.

"Yes?" Harry turned to look at her. Silently she pointed at the small article under Bill's smiling picture. Harry's face went white, his hands curling around the edges of the paper.

"There's no name." Hermione said quietly, aware they were in mixed company.

"There aren't that many animagi." Neville said, his mouth set in a grim line.

"We need to go to Dumbledore, " Hermione said. Harry was already up, and crossing the Hall. They scrambled after him as he headed straight for the stairs.

He barked the password without breaking stride. The gargoyles jumped aside. He took the stairs two at a time. The offending article crumpled in his fist.

Harry didn't knock. Dumbledore turned, a letter in his hand, as Harry burst into the office.

"Which one of them is dead?" He said, his voice barely above a snarl.

"Mr Potter-"

"Tell me Headmaster!" Harry shouted.

"Mr Pettigrew died last night, in circumstances that have yet to be attained," Dumbledore said quietly. Hermione saw the tension drain out of Harry. Dumbledore conjured a chair beneath him.

"He confessed in front of witnesses, and he was clearly alive for twelve years after his supposed death," Hermione said quickly. "Sirius still has a case."

"Quite, Miss Granger, however I just received word that a snap hearing has been scheduled for this morning. " Hermione didn't think she had ever seen Dumbledore look so angry before. "I must go to the Ministry and speak to the panel."

"We," Harry bit out.

Dumbledore looked at him and nodded. "It might do some good. We must leave now." He took a small jar of glittering powder from the mantelpiece. "Have you all used the Floo before?"

Hermione had been to the Ministry once before, to register with her parents. She had never been in the dark panelled corridors of the deep levels. Dumbledore strode through the passageways. Only Harry matched his stride, the others struggled to keep up. The corridor ended at a small atrium.

"Ahh Miss Baswick, it is good to see you, Is the Minister in residence?" Dumbledore asked the startled secretary, hardly breaking stride.

Behind her was an important looking door. Above it, in brass letters, was a sign.

MINISTER OF MAGIC

"Yes Headmaster, but he's dealing with an urgent matter, He's not to be dis-"

Dumbledore had already stepped past her to knock.

"Yes?" An impatient voice came from inside.

Dumbledore took that as a cue to open the door and stride inside. They shuffled in after him.

"Minister, Mr Crouch, I hope we are not intruding?" Dumbledore's twinkly good humour was scarier than his anger.

It looked like they were, papers and maps were strewn across every available surface. A stream ofl paper airplanes followed them inside, adding themselves to the teetering piles. Fudge looked as unimpressive as his picture in the paper. The small man wore a rumpled suit and a harried expression. He froze."Dumbledore, well we are-"

"Thank you Minister, you are too kind. I wish to speak to you about Sirius Black's case. I understand his hearing has been moved to this morning?"

Crouch pulled out his wand. The important documents folded themselves out of sight of curious eyes. Fudge pressed a hand over his eyes.

"Now is not really the time-"

"Minister I must insist, There is evidence that must be addressed, witnesses that must be interviewed, if a informed decision is to be made," Dumbledore said in his most reasonable tone of voice.

"Minister, Madam Bones is looking to or an update again." The secretary had stuck her head around the door to look worriedly at them all.

"Tell her I'll floo her momentarily."

"She's very insistent."

"Tell her to do the job she failed to do in the meantime," Fudge snapped, his secretary shrank back to her post. Fudge put his hand over his eyes. "Merlin what a mess, That will not be needed Dumbledore-"

"I would like to provide testimony, Minister," Harry said, stepping forward. He held out his hand, his smile a bit too bright. "Let me take one problem off your shoulders by helping you correct a mistake made by the previous administration."

Fudge paused and looked down at Harry's offered hand.

It was Crouch that spoke. "Black's hearing was concluded half an hour ago. He's been Kissed."

Everything stopped. Hermione could hear nothing. Her blood beat a tempo in her ear. Outside of that came the muffled sounds of raised voices. She felt her legs buckle, funny she had thought that only happened in stories, and she slid down the curved wall.

Half an hour.

Just half an hour too late.

"Why?" Harry's question cut through the noise. He stood completely still, as if every part of him had turned to stone.

"He was found guilty of all charges, including the recent murder of Peter Pettigrew who was found to have died of poison," Crouch said, his eyes on Harry's face. "The Minister felt that swift resolutions was necessarily to calm the public."

Behind him Fudge nodded. "Yes, a swift resolution. Have you been reading the papers? And that won't be the worst of it. The public need to see this is an active administration. Honestly the whole thing was getting dreadfully embarrassing Dumbledore. The man-"

Hermione hated him. She wanted to scream at them until they understood what they had done. She wanted to claw the satisfaction off of their faces. How could they. How could they.

"I want to see him." Once again Harry silenced the room. She couldn't see Harry's face, she didn't want too. Neville put a hand on his shoulder. He may as well have touched a statue.

"I don't think-"

"He has the right." Dumbledore said, his voice soft with fury.

"The will has not even been read-"

"Black can do no more harm, let the boy see," Crouch said. He smiled at Harry. "Besides, the traitor could not escape the fate he deserved. Justice has been done."

Justice has been done. The words rung in her ears. Angry voices rose around her. Dumbleore held up a hand. "Minister."

There was a knock on the door. "Minister I'm sorry but she says-"

"Fine." Fudge said. "If you insist Dumbledore. He's in St Mungo's."

Wizarding hospitals smelled better than the one her grandmother had died in. It was Hermione's one thought as she tailed the group through the white corridors.

Neville touched her arm, she focused on his concerned face for a moment. They were standing outside a ward door. She looked up.

LUSTITA SECURE WING

They stepped into silence. Sunbeams slanted through the still air and settled on the crisp white beds. The occupants lay on their backs, their hands folded neatly, their sheets without a crease.

They breathed in, breathed out.

Harry stood for a moment, as still as the bodies in the beds.

Then he walked,. His soft steps invading the silence. Dumbledore went to step forward. He stopped and looked down at his sleeve. Hermione didn't let go. She watched Harry stop at the end of a bed.

PRISONER: ƩɎ390

Sirius Black opened his eyes.

His dark eyes met Harry's. There was not recognition there, just dark windows into an empty house. His lips moved. A string of almost words and nonsense sounds spilled out. Nothing but muscle memory. Hermione gasped for breath. It felt as if somebody had punched her in the gut. Sirius's eyes moved on, alighting aimlessly on every face.

Harry stood and stared down at his godfather. His hands curled around the cast iron bedframe. "I'm sorry." The bones of his knuckles pressed white against the skin. "It shouldn't have happened this way."

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Neville moved up beside him. He placed a hand over Harry's. Harry ripped himself away. He stalked back up the ward, wand in hand. Dumbledore met his gaze.

"I trusted you."

"I am sorry."

"I don't care," Harry hissed. Smoke curled out of the end of his wand. "I believed in your justice, again, and now he's gone."

Dumbledore faced him open handed, his head bowed. "I have failed you once again my boy." he said, quietly. He looked at Sirius, "Please forgive me."

Fury twisted Harry's face. His wand-arm rose. Dumbledore hadn't moved, but Hermione knew Harry was not going to stop. Neville wasn't going to be fast enough.

She stepped forward into the line of fire.

"No." Harry stood stock still as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Stop," she breathed into his ear, their tears mixing as she pressed her face into his neck. "I'm sorry, Harry." The spell sputtered and died at the tip of his wand. Slowly he folded his arms around her. The muscles in his back shuddered with every raw breath.

"I was supposed to save him."

"I know."

"It shouldn't have happened this way."

"I know." Hermione swayed, rocking her friend like a child as grief battered against them. Eventually his ragged breathing slowed and deepened. Neville came up beside her and placed a hand on Harry's back. Harry straightened up.

"I apologise Professor," he said, his face still turned away. "I was not myself."

"I understand very well" Dumbledore said quietly.

They stood by the bed, heads bowed as if it were a grave. It might as well have been.

"They can't just get away with this," Ron said, choking on the words, "they can't."

"They won't," Neville swore, has hands balled into fists.

"What happened today was a crime. I will find who is responsible," Dumbledore said. Hermione believed him, she could feel his quiet rage behind his words.

"They will pay." Harry said. He reached down and carefully tugged the blanket higher. The vacated vessel that had been Sirius Black smiled at them for the last time.

"Yes," Hermione whispered, "They will."

Hermione waited. Ron looked back at her as he and Neville steered Harry out of the office. Dumbledore had tried to speak with him before they left, but Harry had gone… somewhere else, and so the boys took him away.

Hermione stayed.

"I know what you are going to ask."

"It happened less than two hours ago," Hermione said, the power to change everything hanging heavy on its chain. "We could still save him."

Dumbledore sank into his chair. "I wish that were true Miss Granger."

"We could change it. He doesn't have to… to end up like that." Pale and cold and staring up at them with nothing behind the eyes. Harry looking down at his godfather, the chance of a better future stolen. Hermione's chest felt tight. It shouldn't be allowed to happen like this. The universe should rail against such injustice.

If it wouldn't, she could.

Dumbedore shook his head. "I am truly sorry, but it is not possible."

Her fists balled at her sides. "We could save him." He was right there, alive in a past she could touch with only a flick of her fingers. Dumbledore could do it, he could have found a crack in causality where perception could be maintained. Sirius might have to live as a dead man, but he would be alive. Harry could be part of a real family.

"Mr Black's Kiss was witnessed by a complete Law Court at the culmination of his trial. The Ministry knows there are many ways magic can be used to cheat justice, and they account for it."

She took a breath so she could speak evenly. "You're a Master of Transfiguration, we could go back before-"

"A time-turner can be a dangerous thing Miss Granger," Dumbledore interrupted gently. "It lets us think we can change what has come to pass. In truth we can only nudge the context of events. I know that was Sirius Black lying there, soulless, I cannot trick myself." Hermione wanted to shake him. "You cannot save him."

"What's the point of it then?" she shouted, actually shouted, at her headmaster. Hot tears were running down her face. She knew she was not being entirely rational. She tried to find it within herself to care. Dumbledore should be able to fix this. That's what he was for.

"You are not the first to rail against the inequity of time-turners. Miss Granger, nor will you be the last," he said. "We cannot have the power to break causality, even to turn back tragedy. We must move forward, however difficult that may be." He spoke from experience. Experience earned from lifetimes longer than she had yet lived and tragedies deeper than she had known. She felt like the child she saw reflected in his eyes, raging against the turn of the universe, unable to accept it did not turn on her.

Perhaps this was what growing up felt like.

She couldn't do anything about it. Their fragile, happy future gone. Erased by self-serving people and a corrupt system. Sirius was gone and Harry could never get him back again.

Dumbledore did not deserve her anger. He was telling her the truth as he knew it, as kindly and as gently as he could. He received it anyway. Sirius had depended on him, and he wasn't even going to try to save him. That she could never understand.

Hermione would break the world for her friends, causality be damned.

The common room was quiet when she got back. Everyone else was in classes. They had left three hours and a thousand years ago. They were probably excused from classes, if they weren't she didn't care. It was an effort to move her eyes around the room. She considered her favorite chair, but it was by the fire and she couldn't stomach seeing Sirius in the flickering of the flames.

"Hermione?"

Hermione startled as a hand landed on her shoulder. Neville stepped out of the shadows near the boy's staircase. Ron followed him down. He'd not said a word since they had seen St .

She tried to smile at them. "How's Harry?" She asked, keeping her voice low.

"Sleeping," Neville said.

"You got him to sleep?"

Neville shrugged and pulled a bottle of Dreamless Sleep from his pocket. "He needed to sleep."

"He won't be happy when he realises."

"He can bringing it up with me then. How are you doing?"

Hermione's smile faltered under his concerned gaze. "I don't know. I don't understand how this could have happened. In our muggle court it would never be able to have happened like that, even if Sirius somehow killed Pettigrew there should have been a defence."

Neville's face drew together. "It shouldn't have happened. Our system doesn't work like that either. Fudge must have used Ministerial powers left over from the last war to push it through, only reason it worked was nobody was about to speak up for Sirius Black."

Hermione could feel a fresh wave of helpless rage rise in her. She stamped it down, it just made her tired.

"How could Sirius have got to Pettigrew anyway? He was locked up the whole time they had him." Ron said lowly. "Somebody wanted Sirius dead, framing for Pettigrew's murder would do nicely."

"Do you think Fudge could have done it? Sirius being innocent would be a big scandal on top of the Azkaban riot," Hermione said, appalled at the thought.

Ron frowned. "Crouch would have to be in on it too. I actually believed that bastard when he said he'd push for an investigation."

Hermione had too, it seemed painfully naive now to expect Crouch help free a man he put away. "They'll likely just get away with it as well, it was probably all technically legal," she said darkly.

"I doubt that," Neville said. He passed a hand over his face. "Speculating will do us no good, we should eat,"

"I don't think I can eat," Hermione admitted.. The thought of facing the curiosity of their housemates was too much. Ron nodded, he looked as worn down as she felt. She wanted to crawl into her bed and curtain off the a world she didn't think much of at that moment. A few silencing charms and she could cry and rage all she liked.

Unfortunately Neville had a determined look on his face. "It won't feel better right away, but food will help." He smiled and Hermione knew she wasn't going to get to bed "follow me. I know something that might take your minds off everything."

Neville finally stopped before a large portrait of a bowl of fruit. They were somewhere below the entrance hall, one flight up from the dungeons. Hermione suppressed a sigh. Neville was trying to help and he was right, she was hungry. She looked around the little used corridor, she had never had a reason to come here before. As far as she knew the whole footprint of the castle sat atop a warren of lower levels mostly given over to storage and other mysterious things only to be speculated at. Boring things to do with running the castle most likely. The again the Chamber of Secrets had turned out to be real, who knew with Hogwarts?

Her attention was drawn back to Neville as he reached up and tickled the pear. A wave of noise washed over them as the portrait swung back. Hermione's mouth dropped open.

House elves. Hundreds of them, all robed in monogrammed tea towels. The kitchen was the immense. Lunch was already being assembled four long tables that mirrored the hall above. Hermione had realised Hogwarts had a silent staff of elves when she had met Dobby. She hadn't comprehended just how many of them there were. The industrious bustle of a hundred small tasks stopped as a sea of lamp-like eyes turned towards them.

None of them were wearing real clothes.

Hermione knew what that meant. She closed her eyes it was too much contemplate. Today all her rage and indignation at the injustices of the wizarding world had been wrung from her. She just wanted to eat something.

A familiar figure pushed his way out of the crowd. Dobby was easy to spot, both by his clothes and by the way the other elves moved away from him. The elf looked downcast, probably because Harry was not with them, but he dredged up a smile. "Neville Longbottom! Hermione Granger! Ron Weasley" Dobby said. "What has you come for?" Ron snorted, but kept his mouth shut, food was clearly more important than old history.

He'd got a new wand in the end anyway.

"Dobby!" Neville said with a smile. He looked completely at ease amongst Hogwarts secret slave population. Not that she was passing judgement, she reminded herself. It probably explained how he could find hot-chocolate at any given hour. Hermione frowned as the thought flitted across her mind. When had Neville ever brought her hot-chocolate? "We were hoping to eat, somewhere out of the way." Dobby opened his mouth to answer, but he didn't get the chance.

"Afternoon, I'm Spudsey, We help any students who find their way'ere," said an old house elf that looked like a yorkshire pudding in a tea-cosy hat. She had an air of authority about her. At least, a lot of the younger elves suddenly found they had work to do as she bustled up.".

"Actually Madam," Neville said, the matronly elf blinked up at him. "I thought perhaps you could let us sit in Helga's Gardens? Professor Sprout says they're worth seeing and we have had… a difficult day."

"Well. I don't think a student has asked to see the gardens since Mistress Sprout was at school'ere," Spudsey said. She looked at Neville approvingly. "You can see, Dobby, you can take them." It seemed, Dobby reserved his anti-authority tendencies for Malfoy, because he obeyed without question.

"When did my mum get turned into a house elf?" Ron whispered as the she went about organising a hamper with frightening efficiency.

"Where's Harry Potter?" Dobby said while Spudsey was distracted. "He's not with you? He's not burnt no more is he? Dobby brought him the best potions!"

"He's sleeping," Hermione said, she frowned. "When was he burned?"

Dobby's eyes went wide. "No time," He squeaked, backing away. "Stupid Dobby, talking when he shouldn't."

The elf picked up a large copper pan, only to have it plucked firmly from his hands by Neville. "None of that, Hermione is a friend."

"Yes definitely, you don't need to hurt yourself I won't ask questions," Hermione said, sickened at the thought of it. She thought she felt a vague disapproval from the watching elves.

The tunnels that Dobby and Spudsey led them through involved many steps. Hermione was sure they had moved below the dungeons. The Slytherin common room was still somewhere below, or so Harry and Ron had told her. Hagrid had led them up a similar way once before, on their very first day. She hadn't really thought much about it since.

"What are Helga's Gardens? They're not in Hogwarts, a History," Hermione asked Neville as they hurried after the two figures. Small balls of light bounced after the pair. They rolled across the uneven ceiling as if, for them, gravity worked upside down. They had to be elf-magic because she had never seen anything quite like them.

"Neither are House elves and she gave it to them." Neville said. "It's not a secret exactly, it's just a bit forgotten."

"But- oh"

Ron stopped behind her "Bloody hell."

The tunnel opened up in front of them. The cavern in front of them was bigger than any she had ever seen. Curtains of stalagmites hung from the ceiling and flowed down the walls into mushrooms of liquid stone, millions of years in the making.

Their little lights fell upwards until they reached their fellows far above. The cavern was bathed in a warm glow, as bright as the midday.

And beneath...

"How does nobody know about this?" Hermione breathed. The floor fell away in stages, like a subterranean mountainside, until it reached lakewater. Somewhere, out of sight, was the little underground harbour all first years docked at. Everywhere that could be cultivated, was, green spilled out of every carefully tended terrace. Some of what was growing looked like it ended up on the plate, some into the cauldron.

"Did you think about where your food came from, before today?" Missy Spuds asked, eyebrows raised, "or did you just assume it appeared by magic?" She had Hermione there. She hadn't thought of it, even though theoretically she knew it couldn't. Food just happened.

"Come this way," Dobby said. "I knows a good place to sit."

They walked up narrow, elf sized steps. House elves looked up from their gardening. Hermione raised a hand self consciously. The elves here wore no real clothing either, but the assortments they wore seemed to have more style and individuality than the uniformity of the tea towels. They waved back, wide smiles on their faces. Still being here felt like trespassing. Nestled between the tiny terraces were homes that had been shaped from flowing stone. Without magic it would take a million years for dripping water to make such structures. She wondered if it had been Helga, or the elves who had learned to grow their houses like they grew Hogwarts' food.

"Do you keep animals here too?" Hermione asked, wondering if there was a slaughter house somewhere she had also missed.

The old elf chuckled. "No Miss. Long ago, sheep and pigs were kept on the grounds, now the meat is brought in. We have chickens and we fish sometimes, when the little boats are not in use."

"All this, and yet we never see you?"

"Of course not," Spuds said with some pride, "Most students don't even know we're here. We have been here a thousand years, we have had a long time to practice."

Hermione reached up and plucked an apple from a tree groaning with fruit. She looked up where the sky should be. It was utterly… utterly magical, and yet..

"But you cannot leave?"

"A house elf needs a house Miss, and we have the best in the country." There was an edge to the old elf's words, Hermione felt she was treading on sensitive ground.

She should probably leave it. "But you're not free," Hermione said, despite herself, watching a trio of little elf-children peek out of a doorway, each falling over the other to simultaneously see and hide.

"We are owned by Hogwarts, as it should be, most of us descendants from the first elves brought'ere by Mistress Hufflepuff. A house elf is not meant to be unbound." Spudsey said in a tone that closed the conversation.

"But you could be sold-"

"We could not." Hermione blinked as the elf cut her off. "Mistress Hufflepuff left us to Hogwarts. We are bound to the school, not to its headmasters or its teachers. It is our duty to serve and protect our home." Spudsey smiled, showing her teeth. "It is polite to obey."

"Oh, that doesn't sound like a normal house elf contract," said Hermione, looking towards where Dobby trailed quietly behind the boys, his large eyes unfocused.

Spudsey followed her gaze. "It is what they were. Little by little, Wizards take more." She shook her head, "them elves from outside, they don't know how much until they come here. I don'ts approves of Dobby's choices, but I understands the whys."

"It's not right." It was so easy to reroute her rage at the Ministry. She remembered those elf-kids, falling over themselves to see them. She remembered Dobby's face as he picked up the frying pan.

"It's a bad business." Spudsey said, "But good for Wizards. They'll not listen to house elves."

"Perhaps you're not shouting loud enough." Hermione said. She took a bite out of her apple.

Spudsey smiled. "Perhaps."

"Have I managed to distract you?" Neville asked as they settled down for their subterranean picnic. Dobby had chosen a lovely spot, they were surrounded by flowers, most she recognised from potions though thankfully none that were poisonous. The terraced gardens cascaded down to the dark water. For a moment, grief speared her anew, but the view was too breathtaking for it to find a foothold. Her mind was already working, filling the space where sadness should be with an injustice she could maybe do something about.

"You did," she said. Neville smiled at her, and for the first time that day she found herself able to return it.

"It's bloody amazing is what it is." Ron said loudly, drawing a few, pleased glaces from passing elves. "I don't even think the twins know all this is here."

"They've not been past the kitchens." Neville said to Ron's evident delight.

Dobby sat at the edge of the group, kept there by Spudsey's departing instructions. Hermione still dearly wanted to question him about Harry, the memory of last time made the words stick in her throat.

"Are you okay?" She settled for, praying he wouldn't immediately start harming himself. This was definitely not one of her skills, but the small elf looked so downcast,

"Is Hermione Granger wanting to know about my health?" He asked, his voice soft with disbelief.

"Of course," Hermione said brightly.

"Of course Hermione Granger, a good and kind friend of Harry Potter would's want to know," Dobby said, his voice rising. Neville looked back, but Hermione waved his concern away. "It's nothing, Hermione Granger, I's just worried about my friend, I goes visiting but they's not coming to the door." His big ears drooped. "When something is wrong with a house elf nobodies knows, nobodies cares."

"You guys should form a union," Hermione murmured, an idea taking shape in her head.

Dobby tilted his head. "What's a union?"

They ate and they talked, stepping around the subject of Sirius and Harry like it was a sore tooth they didn't want to disturb. Without meaning too, they filled themselves back up with laughter and living. Slowly, Hermione felt like she could breathe again. She looked across at Neville, who was smiling as he listened to Ron as he recounted some quidditch match. He always knew what to do when it felt like the sky was falling.

Time moved forward.

Whispers followed them as they left the tower. Hermione felt Harry tense as students turned their heads to watch them as they went by. Beside her Neville frowned at anyone rude enough to point.

They had come late to breakfast. A cluster of irritated-looking owls descended on Neville as he sat down.

"Is it your birthday or something?" Ron asked, as they tucked in.

Across the hall, Luna stood up and started towards them.

Neville shook his head. He looked just as confused as they were. He passed her the paper as he pulled cards from the owls legs. Hermione didn't want to open it. The self-serving coverage of Sirius's Kiss would be difficult to stomach. The whispers were not abating. Neville was sliding the first card from its envelope. Hermione took a breath and flipped open the paper.

AZKABAN BREAKOUT! BELLATRIX AND RODOLPHUS LESTRANGE ALIVE AND AT LARGE!

Sirius was not even on the front page. The pictures of the two Death Eaters that had been declared dead in the riot stared up at her once again.

In a shocking turn of events. The Ministry has announced that Death Eaters Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange are escaped Azkaban two days ago. The bodies formally identified as the pair were discovered to be Azkaban guards, Sally Salaclaw and Brandon Middan when the transfiguration failed in the early hours of the morning.

The Ministry advises the pair, convicted of torturing Frank and Alice Longbottom to insanity, are extremely-

Hermione stared at the words until they blurred on the page. Neville had never spoken about his parents. Not once. It had never occurred to her to ask why. Neville was looking at the first of the cards, his face completely blank.

Tortured to insanity.

"That. Bitch." Harry breathed, his whole being coming into focus as he stared down at the page. "How?"

Luna was in front of them now. She ignored Harry and carefully avoided Ron. "Neville. Come."

Out of the corner of her eye she could see McGonagall headed straight towards them. Neville nodded. He carefully gathered each card of condolence and stood, his food untouched.

A cold breeze tugged at their robes as they stepped out onto the ramparts. Neville finally stopped walking. He placed his hands on the stone and gazed out over the sparkling lake. They had followed him, since he had not tried to stop them. Now they hovered uncertainly in his wake, not sure if they were wanted or welcome. Nobody tried to break the crystallizing silence.

After a long moment, he breathed out and turned around. "Okay Hermione, give me the paper."

"Are you sure?" she said, hugging it to her as if she could shield him from the truth.

"Yes." Neville found a smile for her. Apologies crowded against her lips but Neville's face stopped her cold. He didn't need their pity. This was an old wound. Ripped open and exposed to the world. He would get enough prying as it was, he didn't need it from his friends.

Tortured to insanity.

There were no words for something like that.

So she said, "are you okay?" and handed it over.

"Not really, but I will be"

Luna withdrew her wand and diverted the tugging wind around their party. Neville took out his. The newspaper hovered in front of them. The statement from the Ministry was a masterclass on weaseling out of responsibility. Fudge blamed the Dementors, the Aurors, a lack of guards. He claimed his administration would swiftly resolve the issue.

He used Sirius as an example.

Then she knew. "That's what Fudge was dealing with when we walked into his office. He approved Sirius's Kiss just so he could look good when it came out that they'd escaped."

They stared at each other. Hermione didn't know fury could feel so cold. The pettiness of it took her breath away.

How could he?

"He'd do it, Dad said he was on thin ice politically," Ron said after he ran out of offensive names to call the slimy, wandlicking, trollwanking pile of flobberworm-shit.

"That might be the case, but that doesn't explain how they escaped or how that rat-bastard ended up dead the morning before," Harry said, He turned abruptly and placed his hands on the battlements.

"Would Fudge really murder a prisoner?"

"You mean apart from the one he already has?" Luna stepped up beside Harry and placed a hand in his shoulder.

Hermione pushed back a spark of hurt. Harry was probably about ready to bite anyone's head off. "It just doesn't seem his style, he had Sirius Kissed…" The world legally stuck in her throat but the set of his shoulders told her he'd heard it anyway.

Luna's hand stopped Harry rounding on her. She breathed something into his ear and a little of the tension drained from his body. "I think he could be persuaded to no ask too many questions about a prisoners sudden and convenient death," Harry said, his voice carefully controlled.

"Related or not, the question is, how did they get out?" Neville murmured in almost a clinical tone, his eyes still skimming the article. "They're not animagi."

"Pettigrew is though, what if he didn't die, what if he faked his own death and escaped? He's done it before," Hermione said, refocusing on Neville.

"Yeah, but from beneath the noses of the entire Ministry? And how on earth would he manage to break out people from Azkaban?" Ron said, shaking his head. "That's going to take more than a finger."

"What if he just got them a wand? Would that be enough?"

"It would be for Bella," Harry said, his eyes dark with fury. "He'd have to get there though."

"There was a surprise inspection by the Ministry, the afternoon of the riot," Neville said pointing to a paragraph his face as calm as the lake sometimes pretended to be. "Fudge cites it while he's making excuses. If he hitched a ride..."

"He would need to escape his cell, leaving behind a convincing crime scene complete with body, he would he manage that?" Ron said.

"There are plenty of former Death Eaters working high up at the Ministry," Harry said darkly. "Lucius Malfoy for one."

"Yeah My dad says that too," Ron said, "but nobody has tried to break anyone out of bloody Azkaban. Why do it now? They've been banged up for over a decade!"

Luna touched Harry's arm. They shared a look that didn't include the rest of them.

"Speculating will do us no good." Harry said. Hermione could see the doors closing behind his eyes. "McGonagall is definitely looking for Neville, we should save her the trip." He looked at Neville, who nodded slowly. "Luna your class is on the way right? Tell Sprout I'll be late guys."

Hermione stared at his retreating back. For a little while, terrible as it had been, it had seemed like she had the real Harry back, the one who didn't keep secrets from her. Now he was closing the doors. Shutting her out. It hurt more that Luna was allowed inside.

Neither Harry nor Neville turned up for class. Hermione was glad. She viciously beheaded a Lyre Rose as Pansy recounted the details of the Longbottom attack in a low gleeful voice.

"Steady," Ron said quietly, placing a hand on her wand arm.

"She's foul." Snip. She wasn't the only one. The details of the Death Eater's crimes were hot gossip all over school. Bellatrix in particular appeared to have a long list of horrific crimes to choose from. Beneath her shears, their bush gave out an agitated whistle.

"You can't be there for your mates if your sitting in detention for hexing that sow's face off," Ron said in an uncharacteristic display of maturity.

Hermione eyed the sniggering group and then looked towards Professor Sprout, bustling along the rows, out of earshot. Behind them the Slytherin table bubbled with nasty laughter.

She casually knocked her quill to the ground.

It drifted under their bench. She crouched down and quietly pulled her wand from her sleeve. When she was sure nobody was looking. She shot a violet spell across the uneven floor.

It hit Pansy on the ankle.

"AND I HEARD THAT SHE MADE FRANK LONGBOTTOM WATCH AS THEY TORTURED HIS WIFE UNTIL HER MIND BROKE AND THEN-" Pansy clapped her mouth shut, her words still echoing off the glass walls.

Professor Sprout whipped round, her normally amicable face white with fury. Neville was a particular favourite after all, Hermione thought with a little grin.

"Miss Parkinson would you like to explain why you are using my class to gossip about tragedies in such a disgraceful manner?"

"Someone cursed my voice, Professor!" Pansy protested, looking around with her narrow piggy eyes.

"Oh? Were you hit with a thirteen year old's imperio curse and forced to say those things?" Pansy spluttered something unconvincing. "Perhaps a month improving our compost heaps will improve you Miss Parkinson."

"But that's house elf work!" Pansy wailed.

"Without magic, would you like two months?"

Pansy shut her trap and glared at Sprouts retreating back.

Hermione smiled into her roses. Ron stared hard at her.

"What?"

Snip.

When Sprout was a safe distance away Pansy rounded on the sniggering gryffindors

"Laugh it up, the Dark Lord's most loyal followers are out, how long do you think before he comes for people like you." She directed her glare at Hermione. Which Hermione considered unwise considering she was holding about a foot of sharpened metal.

"Knock it off Pansy." It was the first words out of Malfoy's mouth all class. The Gryffindors blinked at him in surprise.

"Draco." Hermione rolled her eyes as Pansy's voice immediately turned syrupy sweet. "You should be proud of your relatives that fought to keep our culture... Untainted."

Immediately all eyes swiveled back to Malfoy who looked at Pansy with narrowed eyes.

"My parents denounced my aunt then and this morning in the paper. Your father did likewise, if they supported the Dark Lord of their own free will they would be in Azkaban. Are you publicly refuting their established position on the matter?"

Pansy gaped at him. Malfoy ignored her as he turned back to his Lyre Roses, they were humming like hornets. Slytherin's didn't seem to know whether to be annoyed that he broke ranks or impressed by his reasoning.

It did, very effectively, shut Pansy up. That she was willing to treasure. She wasn't sure quite when Malfoy had grown a brain, but it sure gave her hope for the future.

Beneath her hands her Lyre bush gave out a distinctive wolf-whistle. Hermione froze. Parvati caught her eye across the classroom. Quite deliberately she let her gaze wander from Ron to Malfoy. She cocked an eyebrow.

Hermione scowled at her, which only made the other girls grin widen. She didn't dare to turn to face the Slytherin benches.

"Figures they'd be related," Ron muttered, thankfully oblivious, though apparently not quiet enough.

"Find me a pureblood in Britain not related to a Death Eater Weasley," Malfoy drawled without looking up. Their wizard-born classmates suddenly found their roses absolutely fascinating. Ron closed his mouth with a snap and settled for glaring at the back of the blond boys head.

"Really?" Hermione said, curiosity getting the better of her.

"My father's cousin, she died in the first war," Ron mumbled. "We don't talk about her."

Hermione looked around, they had chosen a bush at the far end of the pruning area. Safely out of earshot. "Do you think Scabbers could really be alive?" she said keeping her voice low.

"I think I'd believe just about anything when it comes to that rat," Ron whispered back, "but I can't see him managing it alone. After all, he chose to spend twelve years as a rat rather than just move out of the country or something."

"He doesn't seem the brightest," Hermione agreed.

"Besides, any Death Eater still loyal to You-Know-Who is more likely to kill him than help him aren't they? After all, it was his information that got You-Know-Who banished by Harry."

"I don't know. What I do want to know is how he got captured in the first place," Hermione said slowly. The words came out reluctantly/ There had been no time to think on it, and frankly she didn't want too.

Ron looked around carefully, everyone was bent over their plants. "Do you think it could have been Harry?" Hermione closed her eyes as if that would block out the conclusion that had been staring them in the face since Scabbers had been revealed. He must have caught look on her face because he went on hurriedly. "It's just if he knew somehow, that Scabbers was Pettigrew, he would have more reason than anybody to want him captured."

"But that jar..." Hermione could see Scabbers, suspended in her mind's eye, his little limbs twisted to the point of pain. "That was torture."

Ron looked uncomfortable. "Yeah I know, but, well, Pettigrew is the reason Harry's parents are dead and why Sirius was in Azkaban. I'm just saying, he'd have a lot of motivation. If it were me and I found the person that got my family killed… I dunno what I would do."

"But if he found out about Scabbers why didn't he tell us? We could have taken him to Dumbledore. That means he let you think something awful had happened to your pet for weeks." It wasn't as bad as the Subjugation Jar, but it felt worse, more personal.

Ron gave her a look. "I'm not sure if you noticed Hermione, but Harry hasn't exactly been open with us for a while now."

"Why?" Hermione whispered, "what did we do?" Because that was the question she really wanted answered. Not what Harry was up to, but why he had stopped trusting them.

"He must have a reason," Ron said, but there was an undercurrent of hurt in his voice. "A good one."

"Oh really? What?" Hermione took a breath, she wasn't angry at Ron and he didn't deserve her snapping at him. "Even if this wasn't him, he's sneaking around, keeping secrets from us…" She wanted to mention Luna and the way she seemed to understand this new, strange Harry, but even in her head the note of jealousy rung clear.

"I know, but well, he has the right to not tell us things if he doesn't want too."

"So you think we shouldn't even ask him?"

"I'm saying now might not be the best time to confront him, he lost his godfather two days ago. I'm not over that yet… The way he looked lying there." Ron shivered, though the greenhouse was as warm as a summers day.

"You're right," Hermione said reluctantly, and he was, for all she didn't want to admit it. "Harry's still a mess on the inside. He needs us there. Neville too now."

"Yeah, for now at least," He looked around. "Harry should be here by now surely."

"It's probably better that they're not."

"Yeah, Pansy is going to say something to him, I can see it in her little piggy eyes," Ron said, scowling at the sniggering table.

Hermione put down her shears. "I'm going to get some more compost, you know, before it needs refilling," she said, just loud enough to be heard from the Slytherin table. Along the bench, Parvati smothered a giggle. Pansy glared at her. Hermione made sure to smile sweetly back. It was petty, but it made her feel better.

The greenhouses that contained Hogwarts collection of magical fauna were vast structures of metalwork and glass, even bigger on the inside than they were on the outside. There were tales of students lost forever amongst the dangerous pathways of the seventh year glasshouse. Hermione walked between the mature trees. Some bent towards her, trailing their long vines along the ground. There was nothing truly deadly bedded in greenhouse three, but you still had to tread lightly.

She stepped around an innocently placed vine, because she did the spell only glanced off the shoulder.

Still it sent her sprawling to the ground, all the breath in her body knocked out of her. An unpleasant giggle came from behind. She rolled and struggled to rise, her right side suddenly numb and useless.

"Not so smart now are you, mudblood." Pansy had followed her. She stepped out from behind a tree, her wand trained on Hermione's face. Hermione looked back along the path but they were out of sight of the rest of the class. "I know it was you. Not that it matters, Sprout can assign all the detentions she likes, the Lestranges will find the Dark Lord, and when he returns people like you will be shown your place."

"Oh where's that?" Her wand was tucked in her left pocket, Pansy could curse her five ways to Sunday before she managed to free it. Thank god Pansy was the gloating type. "Because right now its ahead of you in every single subject."

Pansy's face screwed up in anger, she stepped forward until her wand caressed the tip of Hermione's chin. "You think you're so clever, but do you really think true wizards want you around to pollute our world?" Still holding Hermione at wandpoint she fished her wand from her pocket. "You don't even deserve this. I wonder what would happen if it just… snapped?"

10 3/4 inches. Vine Wood, Dragon Heartstring. Hermione could still remember the fierce rush of joy when her wand had chosen her, Hermione, a lonely little girl who up until that very moment had still expected someone to tell her that it as all a mistake, that she was not a witch, that she would have to go home.

"What can a pathetic little muggle like you without her stolen magic?" Pansy hissed, her face not an inch away. Hermione could see the petty malice dancing in her eyes. Perhaps she should try and understand the recycled bigotry, carefully handed down from generation to generation. The poison that led to a coddled girl glorifying the murder of innocent people for the crime of existing. Perhaps.

She didn't though, because Pansy had her wand.

The only thing attractive about Pansy was her long dark hair, it fell in a dark waves down her back. Behind her, unnoticed, was a collection of their last Herbology assignments, looking quite agitated by all the noise.

"This." Hermione shoved her bodily backwards and dove for the wand that span out of her hands.

Pansy fell backwards, her mouth opening in silent surprise as she landed amongst the snapping Admorusus flowers.

Snipsnipsnip.

"Wow Hermione, you make enemies like a craftsmen," Ron said, his voice full of admiration as he dabbed dittenly on her grazed forehead. "First Malfoy, now Pansy? Do you want the whole of Slytherin house after you?"

"She was just being dramatic, she can grow it back in a week tops with the right potions." Parvati said, laughter bubbling up. "The way she was screaming you would have thought she was being murdered."

"She shouldn't have threatened to snap my wand," Hermione said.

"Besides, I don't think you need to worry about Malfoy, did you see how fast he ran when he heard the scream?" Hermione felt herself go red and glared at Parvati when Ron wasn't looking.

"Heh, I'm sure Pansy felt having Malfoy rush to her aid was almost worth loosing all that hair," Ron said.

Hermione avoided Parvati's speculative gaze as she packed away her things. Malfoy had helped the hysterical girl detach herself from the irritable flowers and led her, limping and cursing, away.

Just not, well… first.

She told herself it could have been worse, it could have been Lavender who had seen, or god forbid, Ron.

Neither of the boys turned up for the rest of Friday's lessons, the news must have gotten around because no teacher asked for them. Hermione suspected they were hiding with the house-elves, she hoped so, they could rest there in those wondrous gardens without being bothered. She thought about asking Dobby, but it felt too much like intruding.

If they wanted time away Hermione could respect that, even if it hurt a little.

The castle still hummed with rumour and tension. It could be felt in the clusters of students and the whispering of the teachers.

"They seem more afraid of these Death Eaters that Sirius." Hermione murmured she and Ron headed back to the tower.

"Sirius was only 'revealed' as a Death Eater at the end of the war. The Lestranges were well known psychos," Ron said, "They killed a lot of people, muggles and wizards, before they got to Neville's parents."

"Pansy said they'd go looking for You-Know-Who," Hermione said.

"She might be right, Bellatrix is a fanatic as well as a nutter, she might have killed one of my uncles in Voldemort's war."

"Really? I'm sorry."

Ron shrugged. "Nobody knows for sure, but that's what my mum thinks, he was part of this group that resisted Voldemort and he got caught, my other uncle died trying to get him out."

"I never knew." Hermione tried to find the right things to say.

"You would be hard pressed to find a wizarding family who didn't loose people in the war, and now some assholes are stirring it all up again," Ron said scowling, "and idiots like Malfoy and Parkinson are spouting the same old bullshit like its some kind of game."

Hermione remembered Pansy's face, twisted with inherited hatred at her very existence. It seemed so… so stupid, and it was, but it was dangerous too. The war was a thing to be read about in history books. It was easy for her, who had stepped into this world only a handful of years ago, to forget how recent the scars were. But it lurked there, under the surface, ready to bubble up in a new generation.

How much would it really take for the killing to start again?

"Malfoy hasn't said anything like that, at least not lately,"she said, probably unwisely.

"Yeah? Well maybe he's just grown smart enough not to mouth off about it, don't you remember last year? Enemies of the heir beware, you'll be next mudbloods."

"Well its an improvement anyway." Hermione knew there was no point in arguing, she wasn't even sure why she was. He might have gotten a touch more civil, but he'd not gotten any more pleasant to be around.

And yet there had been genuine panic in his eyes when he'd found her sprawled on the flagstones struggling to pick up her wand with numbed fingers.

People change.

Ron would call her naive, but she wanted to believe him. If only to see that this cycle of pointless hatred could be broken.

"Get up, Ron wants you."

"Gruhhhfup."

Hermione snaked a hand out from under the covers and snatched her wand from her bed-side table. Only the smallest breathing-hole let the frosty air into her cocoon of warmth.

"I'm going to levitate your blankets," Parvati threatened. "And stick them to the ceiling."

"Are you sure you shouldn't be in Slytherin?" Hermione grumbled.

"If I had been Pansy would have ended up with a haircut much earlier, get up. Now hurry up or I'm gonna drink your tea."

Hermione opened one eye and stared balefully at the steaming mug in Parvati's hands, she groaned and whispered a spell. Her lovely warm blankets wrapped themselves around her, cutting out every inch of cold air. She sat up. In a magic castle, there was no reason for there to be frost on the inside of the windows panes.

"You look ridiculous."

"Well I feel warm," Hermione said, sticking her tongue out. "What does Ron want?"she asked, reaching for the mug-of-life.

"Dunno, maybe he found out about your secret affair with Malfoy."

Hermione choked.

"Ha! I knew it, that boy fair sprinted when he heard that scream and it sure wasn't for Pansy." Parvati laughed, her dark eyes dancing.

"Shut up, its nothing like that," Hermione mumbled into her tea. Parvati raised an eyebrow. "I helped him one time when he was hurt, he probably felt like he owed me." She wasnot going to mention the bit where he was shirtless in the library.

"If he did, it means Draco Malfoy grew a conscience when I wasn't looking," Parvati said. "If you go out with him it will be the most Romeo and Juliet thing to happen at this school ever."

"You have a disturbing imagination," Hermione informed her. "Besides your wrong, he'd have to go out with Ginny for that."

"Oh Merlin," Parvati cackled. "Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Hogwarts where we set our scene, from ancient grudge break to new mutiny-"

Hermione threw a pillow at her.

Ron as waiting at the bottom of the stairs, the Prophet under one arm and a fresh steaming tea in the other.

"What took you so long? Come one, we're having a Weasley breakfast."

"A what?"

Ron grinned at her. "You'll see."

He wouldn't tell her, whatever she tried, and she kept on trying until they stopped in front of an unremarkable stretch of wall. Hermione looked around, suspiciously unremarkable, considering it broke the regular pattern of doors on both sides of the hallway.

The twins might have know about the house elves below, but they knew almost ever nook and cranny above.

"Now what?" Hermione asked, trying to hold onto her patience. She was hungry, so this better be good.

Ron smiled, and knocked.

"Password?" came a voice inside after Ron had completed a choreographed set of knocks and whistles.

"Must I?"

"Do you want to turn purple the moment you step over the threshold?"

"Fine. Ron Smells."

The statue creaked open and sunlight poured in. It was only a covered balcony, or at least it had been before it had been expanded to the size of a small classroom and furnished with undoubtedly pilfered pillows and low tables. To one side was the twins 'experiment bubbling ominously away. It should have been cold, Only a low parapet separated them from the long drop to the lake below, but the twins had rigged up some kind of air-barrier. Experimentally, Hermione put a hand over the balcony, then snatched it back as the cold winds bit her fingers.

"Welcome to the Secret Council of the Weasleys," Maybe George said grandly. All the school-aged Weasleys were there, even Percy, and set before them was a veritable breakfast feast. "You are honored to be the first outsider to set foot in out hallowed hall."

"Except for Angelica,"

"And Katie,"

"And probably Penelope." The twins laughed as Percy went red.

"I had no idea this was here."

"That's kind of the point," one twin said. "We don't usually let outsiders know the exact location but Ginny and Ron vouched that you won't snitch."

"If you do we will, naturally, make your life unbearable." the other said good naturally. Hermione believed him. She looked over at Ron and Ginny, both looked pleased as punch to be letting her in on their family secret. Hermione felt something warm fill a void she hadn't known had grown so large.

"Come on Hermione, stop gawping and tuck in," Ron said.

Hermione smiled and did just that, the food was warm and good. It seemed the twins had some pull with the house elves. Simply being included, being trusted, felt so nice, she thought as she looked around. For all their squabbling, when something happened to one of their own they closed ranks like a redheaded trap.

Finding out the family rat was a Death Eater would do it.

"Did you guys build this place?" Hermione asked once they had eaten their fill.

"Nope, sort of, inherited it." One of the twins said. "You can look around if you want to, just don't do near the cauldrons."

She did want to, there was a lot of interesting junk piled up against the walls that looked like it had been there longer than the twins had been at school. A calender from the 70's was permanently stuck to the door, the phases of the moon carefully marked in red.

She picked up a dusty magazine. "Magical Mechanics?" A leather clad girl giggled at her from atop a strange looking motorbike.

"Much more illegal now unfortunately," George said with regret. "Not that that stopped dad."

A flicker of movement caught her attention. In one corner was stacked a number of empty paintings, long since abandoned. "Hey… I know him." She said, pointing at the glimpse of green. "He's from the seventh floor."

"Trolly? He's been hanging around here for nearly a month, Normally we don't let paintings stay here, too gossipy, but he's alright. He doesn't like leaving much." Her painted troll shrank back through the canvases and regarding her with one worried eye. His tutu was looking more bedraggled and he had lost his tiara.

"He didn't find his friends then?" Hermione asked, feeling sorry for him.

The Weasleys shook their heads. "We keep an eye out, but they might have been burned up from that fire," one twin said. "Wish they'd find who was accountable for that already, so McGonagall could stop interrogating us over it."

Hermione avoided everyone's eyes as she sat back down. "Have you seen Harry or Neville?" she said instead.

"Nope, their beds have been slept in, but they were gone by the time I woke up," Ron said. "Can't say I blame them, the Prophet is still full of dragondung about Sirius and the Lestranges." He pushed the wrinkled paper over to her. Hermione felt her happy mood evaporate as she read the headings, the editors had compensated for the lack of news with dubious sounding sightings, speculation and lurid descriptions of the Lestranges many many crimes. Fudge was quoted all over, pushing the blame on whoever he could in increasingly shrill language.

"Crouch is keeping quiet, while Fudge twists in the wind," Hermione muttered, turning over the page. The leftover food faded from the table top and a teapot appeared in its place.

"He's smart, he lost a lot of power after the war, or so dad says. If he can continue to dodge Dumbledore he'll be well positioned to push for a leadership role."

Hermione blinked. "Thanks Percy," she said looking up at Ron's brother who was reading the paper as avidly as she was. Ron had said he had taken the news about Scabbars particularity hard, but then it had been his rat first. "He's dodging Dumbledore?"

"He's dodging everyone," Percy said with a sniff as he poured everyone a cup. "Taking a health break, its hogwash of course, the man has never taken a day off in his life. But if he times it right he can come back with all the solutions and none of the blow-back."

"Percy is feeling disillusioned." One of the twins whispered in an exaggerated fashion. "He rather admired the old boy before all this."

"It's dirty dealing, something I thought Mr Crouch was above," Percy said. "Excuse me, I have some reading to do," he got up and left to the sound of the twins sniggering.

"I'm surprised he keeps this place secret," Hermione murmured as the prefect left.

"Percy has a healthy sense of preservation," the other twin said with an evil grin, "Besides, he likes it up here too much. Though he'll never admit it." Suddenly the gentle bubbling coming on the cauldrons rose in pitch. "Bollocks, excuse us one moment." The twins darted off to prevent calamity.

"It's not right they keep writing about Neville's parents." Ginny said with a scowl as she scanned the article with her. "Just because it sells papers. That Skeeter women should be ashamed of herself. I can't believe I used to like her books."

"It's all a bunch of fearmongering trollshit, look here, there been sightings of the Lestranges from the cliffs at Polzeth to the that burned house Bill put out." Ron said, rolling his eyes, "she's just trying to fill space with whatever she can find, even the Quibbler wouldn't print this. To think, they started this mess and now they're profiting off of it."

"What do you mean? Hermione said.

"Don't you remember?" Ron lowered her voice, so only she could hear, " That night with the fire, Sirius said Bellatrix was going mental over something in the paper."

"I didn't think they got papers in Azkaban."

"They don't get wands either, yet one way or an other, Bellatrix got hold of both."

"It could have just been an excuse to start a riot." Hermione said, "Then again… it could have given her a reason too."

Ron shrugged, turning back to his back food. "It's impossible to know exactly what a nutter like that will be after. The Lestranges were rich and influential, not that they can get at their vault right now without breaking into Gringotts. They probably have more than a few allies that would help them on the quiet. The Malfoy's for one, no matter what they say to the papers."

"Uh Ron, mind coming here a moment?" perhaps Georges voice sounded a touch strained.

"You alright there?" Hermione asked, a little worried.

"Completely, completely, enjoy your tea."

"How is Neville? I've not seen him since yesterday," Ginny said, looking a little hurt at being left out of their whispered conversation.

"Neither have we," Hermione admitted. "Probably staying out of the way of all this."

"Can't blame them, if you see him make sure he's alright won't you? He was so kind to me after… you know," she looked down.

Hermione felt a stab of guilt, So much had gone on in the last week she had had hardly a moment to think of Ginny and her nightmares. "Are you doing better?" She asked in a low voice. Luckily her brothers were occupied.

"I've not had another episode," Ginny said softly, "but I just can't seem to shake it. The sound of dripping water, the smell of stagnation and rotting flesh." She shivered, drawing her knees too her. "Someone else walking my body where I don't want it to go."

"It does sound horrible." Hermione said, suppressing a shudder, "Have you talked to anyone about it?"

"I don't want too, mum talked about pulling me out of school last year. I can't have that happen. Neville taught me how to put up silencing wards so I won't wake anyone if it happens again , so that's a relief."

"He's good at taking care of people," Hermione said. It didn't sound like a long term solution to her, but now was not the time to push.

"And bad at letting anyone take care of him,"Ron said, finally tuning back up, sans eyebrows, "we should look for them."

"You really think so?" Hermione said with a show of reluctance.

"Yup, if he wants us to piss off he can tell us, come on."

"You can't come up here!" Ron protested as she followed him up the stairs to the boys dormitories.

"Yes I can, it's in Hogwarts a History."

"That is so unfair," he grumbled as the stairs failed to dump her back at the bottom. The boys dorms were empty save for all the clothes strewn about and the lingering smell of old socks that apparently even magic could not dispel. Ginny hovered in the doorway, as if expecting a disapproving McGonagall at any moment.

She wandered through, curious despite herself. Neville, it seemed, kept a tidy bed, all his things packed neatly away. Ron's looked like a bomb had gone off. Harry had a stack of heavy tomes piled up on his bed-side table. Hermione raised her eyebrows at some of the titles.

Ξόρκια και Γητείες για Εξορύξεις, Μεταλλουργία και Ανασκαφές

"Don't look at me, Harry does some weird bedtime reading these days," Ron said looking around.

Hermione picked up the pamphlet that lay atop the books. It was the map of the underground that the Dursely's had sent him. Neglectful assholes that they were. She flipped it open.

"They didn't even bother to send him the proper map." Hermione said, irritated. It wasn't the tube map most muggles were familiar with, the simple amalgamation of coloured lines that had little to do with the actual geography of London. This one was far more complicated, the stations actually put where they really were located.

"It looks confusing, I reckon floo is better," Ron said, wandering over.

"That's odd." Hermione murmured, "Leister Square is circled. Its the closest stop to Diagon Alley," she added at Ron's blank look.

"Maybe he plans to make a stop before the Dusleys lock him up again," Ron said, "I think I know where they are. Harry's Firebolt's gone."

He went to the window, in the distance, four specs could be seen flying high above the Quidditch Pitch.

It was a lazy Sunday, and students were still emerging from the hall after a late breakfast. A group of older Slytherins hurried by, muttering to each other. Hermione frowned at their retreating backs, wishing that everyone could find something else to talk about.

They weren't the only ones, she tried to be understanding. Everywhere there were students looking pale and frighted, it was worrying news for more than just Neville and he was probably far from the only person at the school who had had family members killed by the duo. The Prophet was making good money by reminding everyone of that fact. She just wished Neville's story wasn't the one used to satisfy the wizarding world's morbid curiosity.

"This sucks," Ginny said fiercely, "its almost as bad as last year. I don't want to be afraid anymore."

"Then we won't be," Ron said, he slung an arm around his little sister, pinning her to his side. "Its not like they can get us inside of Hogwarts. If they, ever did I'd fight them off for you Ginny-kins."

"Geroff me." Ginny said, wiggling out of his grip, her face red. "You are so embarrassing sometimes, like you could take on a bunch of Death Eaters."

"I'll have you know helping thwart You-Know-Who is practically an annual tradition, whats a few piddling Death Eaters?" Ron said, striking a heroic pose. "I could nobly hold them off, allowing the females time to escape." He then ducked hastily to avoid a thumping from his sister.

"Merlin save me," Ginny said, but she was smiling again. Sometimes Hermione thought a teaspoon might be a slight underestimation of Ron's emotional range.

They met Harry and Neville as they stepped back into the Great Hall, their windswept hair confirming where they'd been.

"Hey," Hermione said, keeping her voice as neutral as possible, "Been out for a fly?"

"Needed to clear out heads, sorry Ron," Harry said, "I didn't want to wake you."

"No worries, you probably wouldn't have been able too. I sleep like the dead," Ron said just a bit too cheerfully. Hermione could sympathies, especially when Luna stepped out from behind the pair.

"Somethings happened," Luna said, looking around at the scattered students trading gossip behind their hands.

Hermione frowned. "There was more stuff in the paper about Neville's parents this morning," she said, "ignore them."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"They're not looking at us," Luna said.

Harry and Neville were looking around, suddenly weary. None of the students spared them so much as a glance. Another huddle of Slytherins came out of the great hall. They looked shaken. Students from other houses turned to watch them pass.

"Is that Parkinson?" Ginny said. It was. The girl was weeping softly as she was led away by a group of older girls.

Harry's face hardened, he spotted Susan Bones, standing with some of her housemates. "What on earth is going on?" he asked her.

The girl turned, her face pale.

"Were you not at breakfast?"

"No"

"Then you didn't hear about Malfoy's parents."

Hermione felt herself go cold. "What happened?"

The girl looked near hysteria. "They strung them up, their own blood... If they'll do that to family, what will they to those who stood against them? My aunt prosecuted them, she's the reason they're in Azkaban to begin with."

Harry took hold of her shoulder, the girl came back to them. "Who did Susan?"

"The Lestranges. Malfoy Manor is burning. The Malfoys are dead."