Chapter Twenty-One
Return to Hogwarts

"Hogwarts? Why did you bring us here? You need to go to St. Mungo's," Draco insisted, glaring firmly at his mother.

Hermione took in the impressiveness of the castle and sighed. She was home.

Not one light twinkled in the castle, Hermione dreaded to think what time it was. Would anyone be up?

"We need to see Dumbledore," Narcissa stated her gaze firm as she regarded her son.

"Dumbledore, why?" Draco scoffed, with his face twisted in a way that highlighted the features he shared with his father, his high brow, jutted chin and contemptuous sneer.

Hermione stood leaning against the stone column that grounded the gate. She had no desire to be dragged into a family domestic, in the streets, in the early hours of the morning.

"Dumbledore is the only one who can bring an end to this war." Narcissa stood up a little straighter as she spoke wisely.

"The war is over; he is dead. You saw it," Draco laughed with haughty mirth.

"He may be dead, Draco but the war is not over yet. Dumbledore will have to act fast; they will soon suspect something is amiss. We need to find a way to get in here," Narcissa said through gritted teeth as she tugged on the castles huge metal gates.

"If you try to charm the lock it will alert a member of staff," Hermione said stepping forward and pointing at the padlock binding the chains together.

Draco turned to her with his brow raised and his lip curled.

"If you had been on prefect duty even once this year, you would know that too," she sniped before pulling out her wand and pointing it at the lock. "Alohomora," she whispered.

Soon enough a white light shone from the entrance to the castle and bounced down the path towards them.

"Announce yourself," Snape's voice boomed as he walked the path towards them.

"Professor Snape," Hermione gasped.

"Yes," the man drawled.

"Professor it's us," Draco said impatiently.

"Draco? Miss Granger? Do explain to me where you have been. You two have had the entire school up in arms looking for you," The professor said as he worked to break the spells on the gates.

"Narcissa," he gasped as they entered the school grounds. He stared at the bloodied woman, the tears in the fabric of her robes, unable to hide the shock on his face. "What-"

"We need to see Dumbledore," Narcissa urged.

"Narcissa," Snape muttered trying to find the use of his words.

"Dumbledore, Severus," she looked at him with a steely determination.

"Of course," he nodded without further question.

The familiar warmth and smells of the castle flooded her senses; it felt so good to be home. Hermione wished that she could enter the Great Hall for a sumptuous feast, her stomach grumbled in protest at the 24-hour starvation she was putting it through.

Hermione could not help but feel they had chosen their time to return wisely as the corridors were silent, all the students in bed. Not even the teachers were patrolling at this hour.

"Sherbert Lemon," Snape sneered quietly to the giant Gargoyle statue that concealed the stair to the Headmasters office. The figure stood up from its post and moved aside. As the group climbed the stairs, they heard raised voices shouting from behind the door.

"To deliberately conceal information from the ministry is a betrayal of the highest order. In order to win this fight we must work together," A man boomed.

Dumbledore replied calmly and quietly as though he knew that someone was listening.

The voice started again before they were interrupted by Snape knocking on the door.

"Come in," The headmaster's voice called.

The voice had belonged to the Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour, who stood by Dumbledore's desk staring at them open-mouthed.

Hermione noticed the flash of surprise on the headmasters face. Dumbledore concealed it well as he welcomed them in with a smile.

Snape ushered them into the strange circular room, closing the door behind him.

"Mrs Malfoy," the minister choked as he took in her dishevelled appearance.

"He is dead," Narcissa said bluntly staring at the wizened wizard.

Dumbledore sat back in his chair and gazed back at her stroking his beard.

"What?" Snape gasped as he spun around to regard her.

"Who is dead?" The minister gawped.

"Voldemort," Professor Dumbledore replied.

Scrimgeour coughed and spluttered in protest as he objected his use of the name. He paled as the statement sank in. "What? How?" he choked.

"A story, I am sure, we are about to hear," Dumbledore said to him with a look of something that Hermione did not recognise in his eyes.

"Soon, Professor," Narcissa nodded.

"I demand answers," the minister yelled, his wild hair shaking like the mane of a lion.

Narcissa ignored the man and continued; concentrating on Dumbledore's enquiring eyes. "You must act fast." She pleaded with him, desperation clouding her features. It was such a pitiful expression for one usually so proud.

"Malfoy Manor has played headquarters to the death eater regime for the past year." Narcissa continued. "You will find scores of death eaters there on any given night and information on many more. They will soon know something is amiss. You will not have this opportunity again," she insisted.

Dumbledore regarded Narcissa for longer than it was polite. His expression, unreadable. "Minister, I think we need a change of plan," he said, averting his gaze to Scrimgeour. "As Mrs Malfoy said, we must act fast," he said.

"Yes, of course," the minister replied and seemed to come to his senses as the action took over.

"I will send help," Dumbledore assured him. Rufus Scrimgeour moved and arranged himself in the fireplace.

"Thank you," he said before spinning away with the green flames.

Dumbledore was already scribbling notes, faster than Hermione had ever seen someone write. "You know where to go," he said as he attached the letter to Fawkes's leg. The bird popped away in a flash of red and gold flames.

"Severus," he said looking over his glasses to regard Narcissa. "Might I ask you escort Mrs Malfoy and Mr Malfoy down to the hospital wing? Tell Madame Pomfrey I will be along shortly."

"There is no need," Narcissa stepped forward to reassure the headmaster. "I am fine." But she looked very much otherwise. Though her wounds had faded to just a hint of a scar; she remained deathly pale and severely underweight. A gust of wind might break her in two.

"Listen to him, mother," Draco pleaded with her.

"You have no doubt been through a traumatic experience tonight, I would rest easier if you were checked over by our nurse," Albus insisted.

Snape held open the door for Narcissa who allowed herself to be reluctantly led out.

"I will be down to see you soon," Dumbledore assured her.

The Headmaster stood up and summoned two glasses and a large decanter of amber liquid from a cabinet behind him. "Please sir," he said, pouring out two drinks and passed one to Hermione. "Madam Rosmerta's Finest Mead." Dumbledore raised his glass, took a large sip and took his seat.

Hermione swirled the liquor in the glass before drinking; she instantly regretted it. The thick syrup like wine was not a taste she wished to encounter again. She placed her glass down on the desk and looked up to meet the penetrating gaze of her headmaster.

"Drink," Dumbledore urged. "It helps take the edge off a little," he smiled, a twinkle gleaming in his eye. "I am about to ask you to do something very painful, Miss Granger and I apologise; but I must ask you to relay your story while the memory is still fresh."

Hermione gulped and reached for her glass. She fought the heave of disgust that threatened to ripple through her chest as the thick liquor trickled down her throat. "Where do I start?" Dumbledore's eyes penetrated her as he looked at her over his glasses. "At the beginning," he smiled.

Hermione sat back in her chair, not realising how exhausted she felt. Every muscle in her legs and shoulders throbbed in agony. Her head began to spin a little as the alcohol warmed her from the inside out. "I suppose it began a few months ago. I started having strange dreams, always about this same bird and then on Halloween, I dreamt about you-know-who attacking Mrs Malfoy."

Dumbledore nodded his eyes not leaving hers.

"I spoke to Malfoy about it, and we researched anything we could think of in the library, but it wasn't until last night when everything started to happen," Hermione let the story flow, relaxing with every detail she let go.

"What prompted you to leave the school last night? Another dream?" Dumbledore questioned as he rested his elbows on his desk and bridged his fingers in contemplation.

Yesterday seemed so long ago that Hermione had to focus to remember. "No, it was Malfoy pushing it. He had been called out of potions yesterday morning when he found out that his mother was missing. He came to me a little later in the day and said we need to leave, we needed to find her. It all happened in a blur one minute I was protesting and the next I was breaking out of school, with just a guess of where to start looking. I am so sorry, Professor." Hermione's eyes widened when the reality of breaking out of school, skipping lessons sank in. "There was reasonable cause, there is no apology needed," the headmaster smiled. "So where did you escape to?" he chuckled.

"Snape's house," Hermione admitted.

The professor sat back in his seat, his mouth slightly open. "Severus's house," he whispered almost to himself.

"I'm sure he didn't know," Hermione blurted trying not to get the potions master into trouble. She did not fancy his retribution. "Draco said he did, but I don't think he did."

"No, I don't think he did," Dumbledore agreed.

"We stayed there for the night and left very early in the morning," she pleaded trying to salvage what was left of her good mannered reputation.

"Don't worry; I shan't tell him," Dumbledore replied. "Where did you go after Spinner's End?" Hermione smiled back, very grateful. "Harlech, I read that there was an Exhibition on Branwen yr Felch, one of the legends I had been researching so we went there to check in out."

"The lady of the lake," the headmaster muttered.

"Yes," Hermione said, raising her brow at her teacher.

"I lived in Wales once upon a time, Welsh Mythology was a passion of mine," he mused, looking away from her momentarily.

Hermione stared back at the man she had known for six years and for the first time realised she knew nothing about him at all. "Yes," she smiled. "I have found I enjoyed reading into it, I felt a calling to it," she admitted.

"I met her, Branwen. Tonight," Hermione continued, feeling as if there was no point in delaying the inevitable

. "Fascinating," he gleamed. "Tell me more,"

Hermione took another sip of the foul drink; it lit her throat on fire as it travelled down. "I was sure that v..v..voldemort was after a cup that I had read about," Hermione stuttered at the name. Though she saw no point in the fear now, she was influenced by the wizards around her and had picked up the fear by association.

"The Cil O'r Anfarwoldeb...of course," Dumbledore's eyes lit up as he connected the dots. "The Ancients is such an obscure branch of magic that I dismissed the idea. The Chalice of Immortality. I'm sure you can see why Voldemort had an interest in that particular object. But how did you defeat him?"

Hermione regaled her tale: The sword, how Narcissa had been attacked, how Voldemort had fallen, his snake right beside him and the magical song that healed Narcissa.

Dumbledore sat back taking in the unbelievable tale. "Voldemort has always feared death. He had sought immortality since his years here at the castle. Miss Granger, you have saved more than one life tonight, including Mr Potter's." The professor said when she had finished.

"Harry's. How?" she questioned.

"As I said Voldemort had sought immortality since his school days. I believe that he had been creating Horcruxes, a powerful branch of dark magic that encases a portion one's soul in an object. On that night that Harry's parents were killed, he somehow transferred a piece of his soul onto Harry. Rendering his body unstable and causing him to disappear for all of those years."

Hermione stared back at him horrified at what she was hearing. The connection between his mind and the dark lord's should have been a sign, but Hermione had never dreamt that anything like this could be true. The thought had bile rising in her throat.

"I think that when Voldemort drank from the Cil O'r Anfarwoldeb, he tied his existence to the cup, wiping out any other tie to life. If I am correct, the piece of Voldemort's soul that resides in Harry is now defunct, if not gone." Dumbledore smiled knowingly.

Hermione was unable to feel anything but calm in his presence.

"You have done what no wizard had thought possible. You have defeated the Dark Lord and delivered wizardkind from war. We all owe our thanks to you," The headmaster grasped her hands as he spoke.

Hermione shook her head. It was not her that deserved the gratitude. She was merely the pawn in Branwen's attempts to save wizardkind from an immortal monster.

"Professor," Hermione shifted in her chair, hesitant in her question. "If the prophecy named Harry as the to kill Voldemort, how come I was able to?" The question had been buzzing in her mind since she had stared down at the broken man's withered body.

Harry had set so much store on the prophecy that he was willing to risk his life for his mission. "Ah, that is a good question. As I have tried to explain to Mr Potter, the future is not set in stone. Yes, the events of the prophecy have seemed to come true but is that because the prophecy was made. Lord Voldemort was privy to some of the information many years ago, and it was that which made him seek out Harry and the Potters. Whether the Prophecy was true or not, would Harry not have the burning desire to destroy the man that killed his parents, the man that took away his chance of having a living, normal childhood? Of course, he would. But that prophecy was based on one course of events. It is my belief that one should take divination with a pinch of salt."

Hermione nodded and looked down in her lap, feeling foolish for asking now.

The coin that she had stowed away in her back pocket weighed heavily. She thought of her final meeting with the lady of the lake.

"I spoke with her afterwards," Hermione muttered. "She said I had been called by the God's." Dumbledore nodded and gazed at her for a minute before replying. "And so you were, You have been in the presence of a holy spirit tonight, what is there that makes you doubt?" Hermione shuffled in her seat and lifted herself up to reach into her back pocket. "She gave me this," Hermione held out the coin for her professor to take.

His gaze lingered on it for a moment before he reached out to take it. "The Token of the Five-Fold Circle," he muttered as he fingered the intricate pattern on the metal.

"You know what that is?" Hermione gasped.

Dumbledore looked up to meet her gaze. "Yes and no," he replied vaguely before examining the coin again. "I read about it in an old folk legend, I believe. The five-fold circle is a symbol of the triple goddess."

"What does it mean?" Hermione asked, confident that if anyone would know it would be Professor Dumbledore. "Alas, I do not know, and anyway, I think that it is your quest to find out," he smiled.

Hermione spun around in the chair, almost losing balance as a brief knocking rapped on the door.

"Yes," Dumbledore called out.

"Draco and Narcissa are settled in the Hospital Wing," Snape said as he entered the Headmasters office.

"Very good," the old man replied. "Would you mind gathering the other heads? Alert Minerva first and ask her to bring Mr Potter and Mr Weasley to my office. We need to discuss the night's events."

Snape nodded curtly and sped off to his task.

Dumbledore smiled as he regarded Hermione. She was grateful that he had asked for Harry and Ron. They deserved to be one of the first ones to know, and at least she would have their headmaster present when she did tell them. As she had a feeling that her news was not going to go down that well with Harry.

"Thank you," she said.