Draco had very carefully not looked at Hermione as they had left the Prefect briefing, and so Hermione knew that she needed to have a word in private with Harry. Clearly, Draco's chosen method of finding out what they needed to know – namely, waiting around in the futile hope that Harry would decide he needed to talk – wasn't going to work.

She found Harry's compartment easily – it was the one with a large crowd of people gathered outside pretending they weren't looking at Harry, who in turn was pretending he hadn't noticed their presence.

"Excuse me," Hermione asked politely. The crowd parted, and she made her way to the compartment door, shutting it behind her and drawing the blinds across the window for good measure.

Such an act was in flagrant disregard of their policy against fuelling any of the many rumours which surrounded them, and she expected Harry to glare up at her as soon as their privacy was ensured, pointing out her 'mistake' with a roll of the eyes and that expression which said in deafening silence: "I thought you were supposed to be smart."

A year ago, that's precisely what he would have done.

Now, Harry kept reading. He didn't so much as glance up at Hermione, refusing to tear his eyes away from whatever text had him so intrigued. With a creeping feeling of dread, Hermione wondered if he really hadn't noticed the crowd watching him.

It seemed things were worse than she'd thought.

She took a seat next to Harry.

"Good summer?" she asked.

He shrugged wordlessly.

Hermione waited for a few seconds to see if he would speak, but she quickly lost patience.

"Come on," she insisted. "I read the papers. That was you in Aldermaston, wasn't it?"

Another shrug. "It was Draco's idea."

Hermione didn't say a lot of things. She didn't say: you told us years ago you had a plan for Aldermaston. She didn't say: if you've been like this all summer I bet Draco only suggested actually doing it because he thought it might wake you up.

She didn't say: did it work?

But Harry still had his nose in that damned book, and, for once, he did not answer the questions she did not ask.

"Harry," she said gently. "What happened in that maze?"

He froze, a slight tensing of the muscles which would have passed unnoticed had it been witnessed by nearly anyone else.

Hermione began to wonder if she would regret asking.

Slowly, Harry retrieved a leather bookmark tucked against the back cover of the text, placing it carefully at his current position before folding the book closed and transferring it to the seat next to him.

Only then did he finally look up, meeting Hermione's eyes with a stare so intense it felt almost invasive.

Hermione felt her pulse quickening, but she did not look away.

"What do you think happened?" Harry spoke flatly and without intonation, and unwanted memories sprung to Hermione's mind. She tried to ignore them.

"Cedric Diggory died," she answered – the one fact that everyone agreed upon.

Harry blinked slowly at her, and she had the sudden impression that more was required.

"Everyone is saying it was… Voldemort." She forced herself to use that name, not the more familiar epithet. She hadn't used the other name in front of Harry for over three years.

Harry kept staring.

"But… it can't have been?" Hermione bit her lip, suddenly doubting everything she had thought she knew. Even like this, Harry could still turn her view of the world inside out.

"Harry…" She knew it had to be said, and Draco would never dare to say it. It was up to her.

She forced the words out.

"We saw him die."

She didn't know what she had expected Harry to do – flinch, turn away, say something – but her expectations were not met. Harry just kept staring at her, impassive, as though she were an interesting experiment in need of close observation.

"Harry…"

She wanted to say: you have to tell someone. You can't just keep it bottled up like this. It'll drive you insane. But Hermione knew better than to tell Harry what he could and couldn't do.

She looked away, no longer able to bear his gaze, and found herself on her feet before she even knew that she had to get out of here. She strode across to the door and slammed it shut behind her, the crowd of hopeful bystanders scattering before the wake of her rage.

With eyes dry and expression unclouded, although breaths coming perhaps a little heavier than was necessary, Hermione Granger leaned for a moment against the compartment door in the suddenly empty corridor to collect her thoughts.

And, out of the corner of her eye, she saw through a gap in a blinds a hand lift a book off of the seat, open it, and begin to read once more.

Hermione pretended not to notice that her knock on the compartment door had silenced the four girls inside, or that none of them moved to invite her in.

"Do you mind if I join you?" she said, stepping inside.

Lavender Brown, Padma Patil, Daphne Greengrass and Susan Bones did not speak as she sat down.

Ever the Slytherin, Daphne was the first to break the silence, smiling warmly at her.

"Susan was just telling us about her aunt."

Lavender and Susan, not quite so subtle, exchanged a meaningful glance.

"She was at the Ministry this summer, when …everything happened." Susan admitted quietly.

Oh. Hermione nodded. …Everything. No wonder Susan looked a little shaken up.

Hermione wondered if any of the other girls in this room suspected that Harry had a hand in …everything.

She had no proof of that, of course. It wasn't the kind of thing you could just ask about, especially not in public. Quite aside from anything else, if Harry had been involved then he should have had himself obliviated, so he wouldn't be able to tell her anything. If, for some ridiculous reason, he hadn't, then she certainly didn't want to be the one to draw suspicion onto him.

Hermione wasn't even sure if she was possible for one person to be responsible for something like that. Unfortunately, that only made it seem more likely that Harry was.

The whole wizarding world was talking about it. There hadn't been an issue of the Prophet which didn't mention it since it had happened. And if there really had been someone behind it, they were probably the most wanted wizard in Britain.

The whole country wanted to know how thousands of Dementors had managed to lay siege to the Ministry of Magic.

"She can do a Patronus though, can't she?" Padma asked.

"Yes," Susan said quietly. "But she says it almost wasn't enough."

It had all begun in their third year – or at least, most of it had. Harry had hated Dementors since he had first heard of them, of course, and the promise to Draco had come before, but it was their third year, with Hogwarts surrounded by Dementors after the escape of Sirius Black – only then had Harry finally turned to them and explained that he had a plan.

This summer had not been part of the plan.

But… it wasn't exactly against it, either.

"My parents say they won't feel safe again until every Dementor in the country has been exiled." Padma shivered.

"I don't blame them," said Daphne.

Precisely.

Dementors were a menace (so Harry had said, two years ago). They were evil, and they were wrong, and everyone who had encountered one knew that.

The problem was that people thought Dementors were somehow okay provided they were a long way away and happening to people who they thought deserved it.

Draco had said that no-one deserved it, and Harry had said obviously, no-one did, there wasn't anything you could do to deserve that and Hermione had been the tiniest bit amazed that, after everything, Harry could still say that like it really was obvious.

Harry had gone on to say that the problem with Dementors was that people felt safer with them around, even though it was patently obvious to anyone who had ever met one that that was a stupid way to think and Dementors would turn on you in a second if they thought they would get away with it.

Hermione tried very hard not to think about how Harry had spent all of five minutes with a Dementor and, while those five minutes had definitely been memorable, he sounded far better informed than he had any right to be.

Harry had said that he had lots of ideas for getting rid of Dementors, but that the major problem was that people didn't want to get rid of the Dementors.

Harry had said that it was simple: all they had to do was change that.

So The Plan had been simple: change public opinion on the Dementors. The case of how had been far more interesting – a test on their ingenuity and influence. Letters had been sent. Teachers had been complained to. Luna Lovegood had been won over.

By Christmas, every Hogwarts student had gone home with a complaint about how the Dementors were disrupting their studies, and the Quibbler bore dramatic headlines prophesying unprovoked attacks.

It hadn't been much, and it didn't look like they would achieve anything.

And then January arrived, and a Dementor disappeared.

It was only one, gone missing from the Hogwarts roll one frosty day, but suddenly the idea that there was a Dementor on the loose had been terrifying. The Daily Prophet was full of complaints, asking what was being done to ensure the safety of the students.

The rest of the Dementors were gone by Valentine's Day.

By the end of the year, there were calls for a public enquiry into the use of Dementors in the penal system, and the Ministry of Magic announced that, until a decision was reached, all minimum security prisoners would be transferred out of Azkaban into a newly constructed, Dementor free prison.

The Plan hadn't been over, of course, but in the past year they had been rather distracted, and there hadn't seemed to be a lot left to do. After all, what could they do to convince the Ministry to abolish Dementors completely?

And then …everything.

"My aunt said it was total chaos."

Chaos had been the word for it, by all accounts. Fortunately, no souls lost (and if that wasn't Harry's hand at work Hermione didn't know how to explain it) but nearly fifty visitors and employees hospitalised. Several of the highest level Ministry staff – including, it seemed, Susan's Aunt Amelia – had been trapped in the building for the better part of a day before emergency aid from Europe had been called in to finally drive the Dementors out.

Yes, chaos was the right word.

It was also, Hermione had noticed, the only word anyone seemed to be using. For five editions, the Prophet had used it almost obsessively.

It could have been a coincidence.

Or the Prophet knew something and had been told to keep the story quiet.

If the word chaos was the hint, then surely Harry had to be the answer – but, why would he be so obvious? – but, who would know outside of Hogwarts? – but, it wasn't exactly subtle – but, did Harry even care any more?

She really, really hoped he'd had himself obliviated.

If nothing else, that would mean he couldn't do it again.

Author's Note: As may be somewhat obvious from the dates, this fic is on indefinite hiatus and is unlikely to update for the foreseeable future.