Chapter 2: The Surprise
Title: Harry Potter and the Seven Soldiers
Author: KanedaX
Rating: PG-13 for violence (But becomes borderline R down the line for intense violence), and also the first mention of the fact that Hermione has breasts
Pairings: implied Ron/Hermione
Notes: This is chapter 2 of the Unbetaed copy of Harry Potter and the Seven Soldiers. I just finished the complete story, spanning twenty chapters, and I'm in a celebratory mood. I don't own the rights to Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, or any of the Weasley clan. Or a camel. Cuz they spit.
Chapter 2
The Surprise
Harry felt a surge of relief course through him as he closed the door to Ron’s bedroom hours later. The rest of the evening seemed to have a positive effect on the other two, but for him it was filled with tension and uncomfortable moments.
Lupin and Tonks had arrived soon after them, and as the group sat down for dinner, conversation had quickly turned to the events of the previous few months. Actually, a more accurate description might be Lupin, Tonks, and the Weasleys trying to get as much information out of the three as possible, without much success.
Hermione and Ron (through his Quick-Quote Quill) were able to vaguely explain how their injuries occurred, but anything beyond that was difficult to dance around. Harry had made a promise to Dumbledore that he would only tell his two friends about the Horcruxes, and they had intended to keep that promise until the job was finished. When they left on their quest, they explained that they were going on a mission of great importance, one that Dumbledore had given them before his death.
Thankfully everyone at the table had been around the Order long enough to understand the meaning behind these vagaries: Any more explanation could mean danger to anyone at this table. So drop it.
Harry’s thoughts were broken by a snapping noise from across the room. He turned to see Ron, who had already fed Pig, changed in pajamas and climbed into his bed, snapping his fingers to get his attention. He gave Harry a big grin, followed by a sketchy salute.
“G’night, Ron,” he replied, climbing into his own bed, which had been kept in Ron’s room permanently after repeated summers of use. Hedwig, now changed back to his owl form, sat on the headboard and tucked his head in for a rest.
With the exception of this evening, when Mrs. Weasley’s attentions brought it to the surface, Harry thought Ron was coping very well with the curse. After he had been hit with it in Cairo, during their quest for the Knife of Ravenclaw, and after it became apparent that it was a Mutatio curse and not a simple Silencio, they had to stop their journey briefly. During that week or two, camping in the hills of Italy, Ron had focused all of his energies on nonverbal spellcasting. Through practice, he had become quite good at it, and could now throw a hex just as easily as if he were screaming it.
Of course, Harry believed that Ron’s resilience wasn’t the only thing that led to this skill.
Since Dumbledore’s funeral, Ron and Hermione had stopped the beating around the bush and finally admitted their feelings for each other. By the time the wedding rolled around, they were a full-blown couple.
For a while it was difficult. When their journey began, the thrill of independence was still new for all of them. There were a few nights when it was clear the couple had thought Harry was asleep and he was kept up all night by the sounds of snogging. Other nights he was kept awake by other noises he tried not to think about.
But when things started going bad, their relationship had taken another step forward. When Ron had become cursed, it was Hermione who had bought the Quill for him, and who had helped him improve his nonverbals.
In the mountains of Canada, Hermione’s leg had become mangled by Inferi, and a Spell Barrier in the cavern caused the wound to improperly heal. It was Ron who had carried her out, and who stayed by her side when she had to learn to walk again.
Harry had been there for his friends, of course. But through it all, it was their love for each other that had given them strength, and kept them going when times had become difficult.
Harry had recognized this, and it was the reason why coming back was so hard.
Tonight at the dinner table, despite all the conversation amongst the family, he and Ginny had both remained silent. He could barely look at her without feeling a deep longing. He had told her that they couldn’t be together, but over the summer there were more than a few heated arguments in which she had made it clear that she wanted to be with him, no matter what cost.
In the end he was able to convince her that, without at least one year of N.E.W.T.s under her belt she wasn’t prepared for what might be encountered. She grudgingly agreed, and the subject was dropped.
There were nights, when the three slept under the stars, that Harry regretted that decision. The thoughts always returned.
I wonder what Ginny’s doing?
Is she safe?
I wish Ginny were here with me.
These thoughts always clashed with his thoughts of reality. On nights when he heard Hermione crying herself to sleep, or when he saw Ron’s look of frustration while trying to synchronize his thoughts to the Quill, he told himself: That could be Ginny.
He couldn’t handle that. There was enough pain already. Pain that he had brought onto his friends.
Laying in bed, listening to Ron’s snores, the most noise that would ever come out of his mouth again, Harry decided that he couldn’t ask anyone to continue on his journey.
Tomorrow, Lupin and Tonks, who were sleeping in the next bedroom over, would be accompanying the Weasleys to visit Bill and Fleur in their new house for Christmas Day. They had invited Ron, Hermione, and Harry to come along.
Harry decided he wouldn’t be going with them. He would go down to Diagon Alley and try to gather some information. Then he would come back that night, say goodbye, and would find and fight Voldemort alone, just as it was meant to be.
It’s the way it should have been from the beginning, he thought as he drifted off.
But just as sleep was taking him, he was awoken by a hard thud on his chest. Hedwig hooted in alarm, and Harry jerked up to see two big eyes staring back at him.
“Harry Potter!” Dobby squeaked as he hugged Harry tightly around the neck. “Dobby is so glad to see you, sir!”
“Hello, Dobby,” Harry mumbled sleepily, “I didn’t know you were going to be here…”
Dobby giggled jumped down from the bed, opening a dirty pillowcase that had appeared with him. “Arthur and Molly Weasley said that Dobby was invited for Christmas. But they never told me that Harry Potter and his greatest friend would be here! Dobby is so happy to see you both!”
He pulled a pile of candy from the bag and threw them on Harry and Ron’s beds. “Happy Christmas, Harry Potter!”
“Dobby,” Harry yawned, taking the Chocolate Frogs and putting them in his cloak, “we’re glad to see you, too. But it’s almost midnight, and we’re exhausted. Could we continue this tomorrow?”
Ron pulled Dobby off of his neck and nodded assent.
“Dobby is sorry, sir,” he squeaked, “Dobby will go away now.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Harry said, “Why don’t you go do some cleaning, or something, and we’ll see you in the morning.”
Dobby’s face lit up. “Dobby would love to clean for Harry Potter! Thank you, sir!”
And with that, he bolted from the room.
Harry and Ron stared at each other. Ron crossed his eyes, sticking his tongue out.
“Yeah, I know,” Harry said, climbing back under the covers, “he’s a nutter.”
Downstairs in the Weasley’s otherwise-empty kitchen, Hermione touched her wand to the blank book opened on the table.
“Catalogue,” she whispered, and the pages suddenly filled with lines of text.
Before she, Harry, and Ron left, they had stopped at Hogwarts both to say goodbye to their friends, and to tell Headmaster McGonagall that they would not be returning. Much like this evening, they had been hesitant to answer any questions from her. In the end she decided there was no way to change their minds, but convinced them to stay for the Sorting and the start-of-term banquet, as there were some things she wished to talk to them about after.
Upon entering the Hall, they discovered that things had changed greatly in Hogwarts since Dumbledore’s death.
Most noticeable was the incredible drop in students. The four tables were no more than half full. Among the students they discovered missing were Seamus Finnegan, the Patil sisters, Zacharias Smith, Crabbe and Goyle, and Cho Chang. Hermione had assumed that their parents had simply refused to allow them to return; an assumption confirmed that evening by Ginny. Those who remained were much more subdued than in previous Feasts.
The High Table also had some noticeable changes. With the escalation of Professor McGonagall to Headmaster, as well as the betrayal and disappearance of Professor Snape, Hagrid & Professor Slughorn had earned Heads of House for Gryffindor and Slytherin, respectively.
The biggest surprise of all was who was sitting in the chair reserved for Defense Against The Dark Arts: Kingsley Shacklebolt. From what Ginny had told them at dinner that evening, Shacklebolt was the best Defense teacher since Lupin. He took the same approach to teaching as Lupin had, a more hands-on, practical class.
More than that, after the attack on Hogwarts, Shacklebolt decided it had become imperative that the children be able to defend themselves. As such, he had restarted Lockhart’s Dueling Club. And when Ginny, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and Ernie Macmillan came to the decision to re-start Dumbledore’s Army, Kingsley not only encouraged it, he gave them meeting space in his classroom.
After the banquet, Professor McGonagall brought them all up to her office.
“Since I can’t convince you to not leave,” she had sighed, “And since I can’t get you to accept any help from the Order, the least I can do is give you some things that might help you.”
She had given them three items. First was the Sword of Gryffindor, which Harry had kept at his side ever since.
Second was the Sorting Hat. “It may not look like much,” she said, “But he’s been sitting in this office for longer than you’ve been in this school, and has overheard more of Dumbledore’s meetings than probably he could remember. What you have there is information in the shape of a brown sack.”
The third item Hermione had opened on the table. The simple red book, with the word Hogwarts emblazoned on the cover, was magically connected to the Hogwarts library. Anytime Hermione needed to read a book from the school, she simply could open this book, point her wand at the page, and recite the title.
During their travels, this book had helped them get out of more than one dangerous situation. However, as she spent night after night researching Ron’s condition, she learned that it had its limits, as Hogwarts didn’t have every book of magical texts imaginable. Also, with thousands of books to choose from, she only had Madam Pince’s handwritten catalogue to go by if she didn’t know where to look.
As she scanned down the list, trying to find any books that she hadn’t already searched a dozen times for a vague reference to a Mutatio counter-jinx, she rubbed her sore ribs.
Harry had spent a lot of money in preparation for the journey. The matching Firebolts for she and Ron had cost him quite a bit of his inheritance. The matching Invisibility Cloaks had cost him even more on the black market.
What hadn’t cost him anything, however, were Fred and George Weasley’s Covert Cowls. The amazing hoods were enchanted to cover any face with a temporary glamour.
Unfortunately, at the time they received them, the twins had only developed the “Tough Goon” model, and hadn’t gotten to any female models. On the one hand, if any of Voldemort’s supporters were told to be on the lookout for them, they would be looking for two men and a woman, not three men.
But it did have its drawbacks, she thought as she massaged her chest. When she had borrowed some of Ginny’s clothing, she had also been able to remove the wrappings from around her midsection. The hoods changed the face, but only the face.
Thank goodness I’m not too endowed, Hermione chuckled. If I had been built like Lavender “Two Jugs” Brown, I’d be in some real pain right now.
A pair of small feet running down the stairs interrupted any other thoughts along those lines.
“Hello, Hermione Granger!” Dobby squeaked, running directly to the closet and digging out a feather duster.
“Hello, Dobby,” Hermione said, surprised. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”
“Harry Potter said the same thing to Dobby, miss,” Dobby replied, sweeping the duster around the kitchen. “Dobby gave Harry Potter his Christmas present, then Harry Potter told Dobby to come downstairs and clean.”
Hermione gave a dark look up the stairs. Some people just never learn…
“You know, Dobby,” she said carefully, “You don’t have to clean just because Harry told you to.”
“Oh, Dobby knows that, miss,” he said matter-of-factly, continuing over to the fireplace. “But Dobby likes to clean. Dobby wants to clean.”
Not having the energy to continue the argument, Hermione closed up the book and put it in her bag. Grimacing as she stood up on her bad leg, she threw the bag over her shoulder.
“Have it your way,” she said, slowly working her way up the stairs, “I’ll see you in the morning. Happy Christmas, Dobby.”
“Happy Christmas to you too, miss!” Dobby cried back.
I’m going to have to talk to Harry about him in the morning, Hermione thought as she limped her way up to Ginny’s room. To automatically suggest that Dobby should clean…
“Honeydukes.”
“What was that, Dobby?” Hermione asked, turning around. Walking down a few steps, she found a strange sight.
Dobby was on his hands and knees, his head inside the fireplace. The feather duster he had used earlier was set on the floor to his side, and in its place he held a broomstick. He stuck it into the hearth, where the brush end seemed to disappear into the wall, with the handle still sitting in Dobby’s hand.
“They’re here,” he squeaked in a strangely distant voice.
“Are you alright?” Hermione asked nervously.
Suddenly, a robed and masked figure stepped from the fireplace, followed by another. And another.
Terror swelled in Hermione as she remembered seeing the masks before, at the Quidditch World Cup.
“Death Eaters!” she yelled, pulling the wand from her pocket.
The two men, followed by three more, all turned to face her. One pointed his wand at her and threw a hex.
“Protego!” she yelled, deflecting spell after spell as she struggled up the stairs. One of the Death Eaters grabbed her leg and pointed his wand at her.
“Relashio!” a voice boomed from upstairs, and the Death Eater’s grip on her ankle was released as she flew backwards. Another arm grabbed her around the shoulders and dragged her up the stairs.
Ron and Harry leaped out of bed as the door was thrown open. From behind Molly they could see Tonks and Arthur running down the hall, wands bared.
“You’re leaving,” she ordered, throwing their cloaks and brooms at them.
“What’s going on?” Harry asked, instantly awake.
“Death Eaters have invaded the house,” she replied, “Remus is getting Hermione and Ginny, they’ll meet you outside. We’ll hold them off as long as we can, but you need to leave now!”
Ron pulled his wand from his robe and ran towards the door. Harry followed suit, but Molly stood in front of both of them.
“Don’t be stupid,” she barked, her voice mixed with fear and anger, “You have a job to do.”
Harry relented, but Ron stared back at her mother in defiance. She stared right back. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out two small gems. Forcing Ron's hand open, she thrust them into his palm and closed his fingers around them.
“Those are mine and your father's. Take yours from the dresser, and protect them.
"Whatever Dumbledore ordered you to do,” she continued, “It’s probably a lot more important than any of us. I’d wager a guess and say that Dumbledore gave his life for it.
“So don’t throw it away just to protect a few adults.”
“Harry, come on!” Hermione yelled from behind them. Harry turned to see her floating outside the window on her Firebolt. Ginny was also next to her on her own broom, but her face reflected the same shade of doubt as her brother’s. Pig and Hedwig fluttered around the pair.
He turned to Ron. “Your mother’s right,” he yelled.
Ron stood firm. Staring into his mother's eyes, he finally shook his head and ran to his dresser.
Opening the third drawer, he pulled out another small gem and shoved it into his pocket.
Before Harry could ask, two flashes of light erupted from downstairs. Seconds later, Arthur ran into the room.
“Lupin’s down,” he told Molly, “Nymphadora’s trying to hold them off.” He turned to the two boys. “Go, now!”
Not thinking about anything else, Harry jumped on his broom and followed Hermione and Ginny as they flew into the night’s sky. He turned to see Ron following behind.
We need to find a place to hide out, he thought, his mind racing.
Suddenly Harry’s scar erupted in pain more intense than any he had felt before. It was blinding, debilitating. He lost his grip on the broom.
As he plummeted towards earth, he felt an evil, unearthly laughter escape from his mouth. Images flooded his brain.
He also heard the slithering voice of Voldemort:
In the Seventh Year at the Seventh School
Seven Soldiers will battle Seven Skulls
For the Seventh Soul
One shall fight Seven
And to the victor goes the New Year
Author: KanedaX
Rating: PG-13 for violence (But becomes borderline R down the line for intense violence), and also the first mention of the fact that Hermione has breasts
Pairings: implied Ron/Hermione
Notes: This is chapter 2 of the Unbetaed copy of Harry Potter and the Seven Soldiers. I just finished the complete story, spanning twenty chapters, and I'm in a celebratory mood. I don't own the rights to Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, or any of the Weasley clan. Or a camel. Cuz they spit.
Chapter 2
The Surprise
Harry felt a surge of relief course through him as he closed the door to Ron’s bedroom hours later. The rest of the evening seemed to have a positive effect on the other two, but for him it was filled with tension and uncomfortable moments.
Lupin and Tonks had arrived soon after them, and as the group sat down for dinner, conversation had quickly turned to the events of the previous few months. Actually, a more accurate description might be Lupin, Tonks, and the Weasleys trying to get as much information out of the three as possible, without much success.
Hermione and Ron (through his Quick-Quote Quill) were able to vaguely explain how their injuries occurred, but anything beyond that was difficult to dance around. Harry had made a promise to Dumbledore that he would only tell his two friends about the Horcruxes, and they had intended to keep that promise until the job was finished. When they left on their quest, they explained that they were going on a mission of great importance, one that Dumbledore had given them before his death.
Thankfully everyone at the table had been around the Order long enough to understand the meaning behind these vagaries: Any more explanation could mean danger to anyone at this table. So drop it.
Harry’s thoughts were broken by a snapping noise from across the room. He turned to see Ron, who had already fed Pig, changed in pajamas and climbed into his bed, snapping his fingers to get his attention. He gave Harry a big grin, followed by a sketchy salute.
“G’night, Ron,” he replied, climbing into his own bed, which had been kept in Ron’s room permanently after repeated summers of use. Hedwig, now changed back to his owl form, sat on the headboard and tucked his head in for a rest.
With the exception of this evening, when Mrs. Weasley’s attentions brought it to the surface, Harry thought Ron was coping very well with the curse. After he had been hit with it in Cairo, during their quest for the Knife of Ravenclaw, and after it became apparent that it was a Mutatio curse and not a simple Silencio, they had to stop their journey briefly. During that week or two, camping in the hills of Italy, Ron had focused all of his energies on nonverbal spellcasting. Through practice, he had become quite good at it, and could now throw a hex just as easily as if he were screaming it.
Of course, Harry believed that Ron’s resilience wasn’t the only thing that led to this skill.
Since Dumbledore’s funeral, Ron and Hermione had stopped the beating around the bush and finally admitted their feelings for each other. By the time the wedding rolled around, they were a full-blown couple.
For a while it was difficult. When their journey began, the thrill of independence was still new for all of them. There were a few nights when it was clear the couple had thought Harry was asleep and he was kept up all night by the sounds of snogging. Other nights he was kept awake by other noises he tried not to think about.
But when things started going bad, their relationship had taken another step forward. When Ron had become cursed, it was Hermione who had bought the Quill for him, and who had helped him improve his nonverbals.
In the mountains of Canada, Hermione’s leg had become mangled by Inferi, and a Spell Barrier in the cavern caused the wound to improperly heal. It was Ron who had carried her out, and who stayed by her side when she had to learn to walk again.
Harry had been there for his friends, of course. But through it all, it was their love for each other that had given them strength, and kept them going when times had become difficult.
Harry had recognized this, and it was the reason why coming back was so hard.
Tonight at the dinner table, despite all the conversation amongst the family, he and Ginny had both remained silent. He could barely look at her without feeling a deep longing. He had told her that they couldn’t be together, but over the summer there were more than a few heated arguments in which she had made it clear that she wanted to be with him, no matter what cost.
In the end he was able to convince her that, without at least one year of N.E.W.T.s under her belt she wasn’t prepared for what might be encountered. She grudgingly agreed, and the subject was dropped.
There were nights, when the three slept under the stars, that Harry regretted that decision. The thoughts always returned.
I wonder what Ginny’s doing?
Is she safe?
I wish Ginny were here with me.
These thoughts always clashed with his thoughts of reality. On nights when he heard Hermione crying herself to sleep, or when he saw Ron’s look of frustration while trying to synchronize his thoughts to the Quill, he told himself: That could be Ginny.
He couldn’t handle that. There was enough pain already. Pain that he had brought onto his friends.
Laying in bed, listening to Ron’s snores, the most noise that would ever come out of his mouth again, Harry decided that he couldn’t ask anyone to continue on his journey.
Tomorrow, Lupin and Tonks, who were sleeping in the next bedroom over, would be accompanying the Weasleys to visit Bill and Fleur in their new house for Christmas Day. They had invited Ron, Hermione, and Harry to come along.
Harry decided he wouldn’t be going with them. He would go down to Diagon Alley and try to gather some information. Then he would come back that night, say goodbye, and would find and fight Voldemort alone, just as it was meant to be.
It’s the way it should have been from the beginning, he thought as he drifted off.
But just as sleep was taking him, he was awoken by a hard thud on his chest. Hedwig hooted in alarm, and Harry jerked up to see two big eyes staring back at him.
“Harry Potter!” Dobby squeaked as he hugged Harry tightly around the neck. “Dobby is so glad to see you, sir!”
“Hello, Dobby,” Harry mumbled sleepily, “I didn’t know you were going to be here…”
Dobby giggled jumped down from the bed, opening a dirty pillowcase that had appeared with him. “Arthur and Molly Weasley said that Dobby was invited for Christmas. But they never told me that Harry Potter and his greatest friend would be here! Dobby is so happy to see you both!”
He pulled a pile of candy from the bag and threw them on Harry and Ron’s beds. “Happy Christmas, Harry Potter!”
“Dobby,” Harry yawned, taking the Chocolate Frogs and putting them in his cloak, “we’re glad to see you, too. But it’s almost midnight, and we’re exhausted. Could we continue this tomorrow?”
Ron pulled Dobby off of his neck and nodded assent.
“Dobby is sorry, sir,” he squeaked, “Dobby will go away now.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” Harry said, “Why don’t you go do some cleaning, or something, and we’ll see you in the morning.”
Dobby’s face lit up. “Dobby would love to clean for Harry Potter! Thank you, sir!”
And with that, he bolted from the room.
Harry and Ron stared at each other. Ron crossed his eyes, sticking his tongue out.
“Yeah, I know,” Harry said, climbing back under the covers, “he’s a nutter.”
Downstairs in the Weasley’s otherwise-empty kitchen, Hermione touched her wand to the blank book opened on the table.
“Catalogue,” she whispered, and the pages suddenly filled with lines of text.
Before she, Harry, and Ron left, they had stopped at Hogwarts both to say goodbye to their friends, and to tell Headmaster McGonagall that they would not be returning. Much like this evening, they had been hesitant to answer any questions from her. In the end she decided there was no way to change their minds, but convinced them to stay for the Sorting and the start-of-term banquet, as there were some things she wished to talk to them about after.
Upon entering the Hall, they discovered that things had changed greatly in Hogwarts since Dumbledore’s death.
Most noticeable was the incredible drop in students. The four tables were no more than half full. Among the students they discovered missing were Seamus Finnegan, the Patil sisters, Zacharias Smith, Crabbe and Goyle, and Cho Chang. Hermione had assumed that their parents had simply refused to allow them to return; an assumption confirmed that evening by Ginny. Those who remained were much more subdued than in previous Feasts.
The High Table also had some noticeable changes. With the escalation of Professor McGonagall to Headmaster, as well as the betrayal and disappearance of Professor Snape, Hagrid & Professor Slughorn had earned Heads of House for Gryffindor and Slytherin, respectively.
The biggest surprise of all was who was sitting in the chair reserved for Defense Against The Dark Arts: Kingsley Shacklebolt. From what Ginny had told them at dinner that evening, Shacklebolt was the best Defense teacher since Lupin. He took the same approach to teaching as Lupin had, a more hands-on, practical class.
More than that, after the attack on Hogwarts, Shacklebolt decided it had become imperative that the children be able to defend themselves. As such, he had restarted Lockhart’s Dueling Club. And when Ginny, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and Ernie Macmillan came to the decision to re-start Dumbledore’s Army, Kingsley not only encouraged it, he gave them meeting space in his classroom.
After the banquet, Professor McGonagall brought them all up to her office.
“Since I can’t convince you to not leave,” she had sighed, “And since I can’t get you to accept any help from the Order, the least I can do is give you some things that might help you.”
She had given them three items. First was the Sword of Gryffindor, which Harry had kept at his side ever since.
Second was the Sorting Hat. “It may not look like much,” she said, “But he’s been sitting in this office for longer than you’ve been in this school, and has overheard more of Dumbledore’s meetings than probably he could remember. What you have there is information in the shape of a brown sack.”
The third item Hermione had opened on the table. The simple red book, with the word Hogwarts emblazoned on the cover, was magically connected to the Hogwarts library. Anytime Hermione needed to read a book from the school, she simply could open this book, point her wand at the page, and recite the title.
During their travels, this book had helped them get out of more than one dangerous situation. However, as she spent night after night researching Ron’s condition, she learned that it had its limits, as Hogwarts didn’t have every book of magical texts imaginable. Also, with thousands of books to choose from, she only had Madam Pince’s handwritten catalogue to go by if she didn’t know where to look.
As she scanned down the list, trying to find any books that she hadn’t already searched a dozen times for a vague reference to a Mutatio counter-jinx, she rubbed her sore ribs.
Harry had spent a lot of money in preparation for the journey. The matching Firebolts for she and Ron had cost him quite a bit of his inheritance. The matching Invisibility Cloaks had cost him even more on the black market.
What hadn’t cost him anything, however, were Fred and George Weasley’s Covert Cowls. The amazing hoods were enchanted to cover any face with a temporary glamour.
Unfortunately, at the time they received them, the twins had only developed the “Tough Goon” model, and hadn’t gotten to any female models. On the one hand, if any of Voldemort’s supporters were told to be on the lookout for them, they would be looking for two men and a woman, not three men.
But it did have its drawbacks, she thought as she massaged her chest. When she had borrowed some of Ginny’s clothing, she had also been able to remove the wrappings from around her midsection. The hoods changed the face, but only the face.
Thank goodness I’m not too endowed, Hermione chuckled. If I had been built like Lavender “Two Jugs” Brown, I’d be in some real pain right now.
A pair of small feet running down the stairs interrupted any other thoughts along those lines.
“Hello, Hermione Granger!” Dobby squeaked, running directly to the closet and digging out a feather duster.
“Hello, Dobby,” Hermione said, surprised. “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”
“Harry Potter said the same thing to Dobby, miss,” Dobby replied, sweeping the duster around the kitchen. “Dobby gave Harry Potter his Christmas present, then Harry Potter told Dobby to come downstairs and clean.”
Hermione gave a dark look up the stairs. Some people just never learn…
“You know, Dobby,” she said carefully, “You don’t have to clean just because Harry told you to.”
“Oh, Dobby knows that, miss,” he said matter-of-factly, continuing over to the fireplace. “But Dobby likes to clean. Dobby wants to clean.”
Not having the energy to continue the argument, Hermione closed up the book and put it in her bag. Grimacing as she stood up on her bad leg, she threw the bag over her shoulder.
“Have it your way,” she said, slowly working her way up the stairs, “I’ll see you in the morning. Happy Christmas, Dobby.”
“Happy Christmas to you too, miss!” Dobby cried back.
I’m going to have to talk to Harry about him in the morning, Hermione thought as she limped her way up to Ginny’s room. To automatically suggest that Dobby should clean…
“Honeydukes.”
“What was that, Dobby?” Hermione asked, turning around. Walking down a few steps, she found a strange sight.
Dobby was on his hands and knees, his head inside the fireplace. The feather duster he had used earlier was set on the floor to his side, and in its place he held a broomstick. He stuck it into the hearth, where the brush end seemed to disappear into the wall, with the handle still sitting in Dobby’s hand.
“They’re here,” he squeaked in a strangely distant voice.
“Are you alright?” Hermione asked nervously.
Suddenly, a robed and masked figure stepped from the fireplace, followed by another. And another.
Terror swelled in Hermione as she remembered seeing the masks before, at the Quidditch World Cup.
“Death Eaters!” she yelled, pulling the wand from her pocket.
The two men, followed by three more, all turned to face her. One pointed his wand at her and threw a hex.
“Protego!” she yelled, deflecting spell after spell as she struggled up the stairs. One of the Death Eaters grabbed her leg and pointed his wand at her.
“Relashio!” a voice boomed from upstairs, and the Death Eater’s grip on her ankle was released as she flew backwards. Another arm grabbed her around the shoulders and dragged her up the stairs.
Ron and Harry leaped out of bed as the door was thrown open. From behind Molly they could see Tonks and Arthur running down the hall, wands bared.
“You’re leaving,” she ordered, throwing their cloaks and brooms at them.
“What’s going on?” Harry asked, instantly awake.
“Death Eaters have invaded the house,” she replied, “Remus is getting Hermione and Ginny, they’ll meet you outside. We’ll hold them off as long as we can, but you need to leave now!”
Ron pulled his wand from his robe and ran towards the door. Harry followed suit, but Molly stood in front of both of them.
“Don’t be stupid,” she barked, her voice mixed with fear and anger, “You have a job to do.”
Harry relented, but Ron stared back at her mother in defiance. She stared right back. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out two small gems. Forcing Ron's hand open, she thrust them into his palm and closed his fingers around them.
“Those are mine and your father's. Take yours from the dresser, and protect them.
"Whatever Dumbledore ordered you to do,” she continued, “It’s probably a lot more important than any of us. I’d wager a guess and say that Dumbledore gave his life for it.
“So don’t throw it away just to protect a few adults.”
“Harry, come on!” Hermione yelled from behind them. Harry turned to see her floating outside the window on her Firebolt. Ginny was also next to her on her own broom, but her face reflected the same shade of doubt as her brother’s. Pig and Hedwig fluttered around the pair.
He turned to Ron. “Your mother’s right,” he yelled.
Ron stood firm. Staring into his mother's eyes, he finally shook his head and ran to his dresser.
Opening the third drawer, he pulled out another small gem and shoved it into his pocket.
Before Harry could ask, two flashes of light erupted from downstairs. Seconds later, Arthur ran into the room.
“Lupin’s down,” he told Molly, “Nymphadora’s trying to hold them off.” He turned to the two boys. “Go, now!”
Not thinking about anything else, Harry jumped on his broom and followed Hermione and Ginny as they flew into the night’s sky. He turned to see Ron following behind.
We need to find a place to hide out, he thought, his mind racing.
Suddenly Harry’s scar erupted in pain more intense than any he had felt before. It was blinding, debilitating. He lost his grip on the broom.
As he plummeted towards earth, he felt an evil, unearthly laughter escape from his mouth. Images flooded his brain.
He also heard the slithering voice of Voldemort:
In the Seventh Year at the Seventh School
Seven Soldiers will battle Seven Skulls
For the Seventh Soul
One shall fight Seven
And to the victor goes the New Year