Chapters 221-230

The End of Happiness

When the entrance to Slytherin House closed behind Alina, Bill Weasley allowed himself to slump against the cool stones of the dungeon walls.

For a moment he wondered if he’d been right to tell the girl so much. But already she felt like a member of his family. Weasleys always took care of Weasleys; born and honorary Weasleys alike. Also, he remembered too well the dangerous situations misinformation and misunderstandings had created for Harry and his friends when they were Alina’s age. He’d really prefer to avoid a repetition of those scenarios. And Alina, Slytherin that she was, displayed the maturity of a much older girl.

He sighed and squared his shoulder. Another trek to the hospital wing, then back to the Ministry to control his spell-work.

He hadn’t mentioned the most difficult part of his spell to Alina. What he’d set up with the help of a goblin Charms expert went far beyond a monitoring spell. They had created an elaborate magical illusion to snap into place the second the real leeching curse was broken. An illusion that would look even to a seasoned Charms master as if the original curse was still in place, unbroken and untouched.

The Minister of Magic was determined to find the Necromancers who had originally planted the curse. The illusion was meant to buy the Ministry and the Aurors time to find them. Though after the incident at the White Horse Bill didn’t see how the strange Necromancers could possibly be made to believe that the authorities of the wizarding world were not doing everything in their power to find the perpetrators…

oooOooo

‘Gilly! Geilissssssssss!’ Alina hissed, while shaking her friend as surreptitiously as she could. She didn’t want to wake Mika and Dorothy.

‘Hmm?’ Her friend slowly blinked open her eyes.

‘Come with me,’ Alina whispered urgently. There was no way she could tell her friend everything that had happened in the dormitory without waking the other girls. And she didn’t want to tell her story twice. ‘Call to arms,’ she added. ‘ Ebe is getting the others. We’re meeting in the potions classroom.’

‘What?!’

‘No one’s going to look for us there.’ Alina grinned. ‘They always look in the Room of Requirement first nowadays. A classroom will be the last place they look for students out of bounds at night.’

A few minutes later the girls padded noiselessly down the hallway to their classroom.

oooOooo

‘How is Ron?’ the Headmistress asked. She looked thin and pale, almost ghostlike. Her eyes lay deep and weary in their sockets.

The Minister of Magic managed to keep up a cool, business-like appearance. Bill tried to remember the friendly, easy-going house-witch he’d met when he visited Tonks during the summer hols as a boy, and failed miserably.

‘Please sit down, Professor Weasley,’ the Minister of Magic interrupted. ‘You look dead on your feet. Coffee? Tea? Or something stronger?’

Only when he was sipping very sweet and very black coffee, Andromeda nodded at him to answer Minerva’s original question.

Bill cleared his throat. ‘Ron will live,’ he said quickly. ‘We’re really lucky that they Apparated to Hogwarts and that Madam Pomfrey has so much experience with treating all kinds of wounds from the war. Had they Apparated to Lois’ flat, Ron would be dead now.’ He sighed. ‘But the arm can’t be attached again. The bullet caused too much damage to the upper arm, crashing the bone to splinters and tearing apart the muscles. In fact, Splinching himself above that injury may have been the best thing Ron could do.’ Bill offered Minerva a wry grin. ‘Splinching wounds are way cleaner than wounds caused by Muggle bullets, I’m told.’

The Headmistress shuddered. The Minister’s mouth narrowed to thin, pinched line.

Bill put his mug down and straightened in his seat. ‘Any news about Severus and Harry?’

Involuntarily he balled his hands into fists. Had there been any good news, he would have been told the moment he stepped out of the Floo. He could only hope that there were no bad news.

Draco floated through the door, a faint silvery shadow of an elegant young man. The ghost shook his head. ‘No news,’ he said. ‘Not about Severus and Harry. Not about Hermione. We have no idea where she is.’

He turned to his aunt. ‘Because she broke the wands herself, she’s gone from the Registry. Her death won’t be recorded. Severus and Harry are of course still marked as deceased in the register.’ His semi-translucent form swelled up slightly before shrinking dejectedly in the ghostly equivalent of a sigh. ‘Robards has asked for the assistance of a Seer from the Department of Mysteries.’

Damn. Bill forced himself to pick up his mug and take a long, slow swallow of coffee. The hot liquid burned bitter and painful on his tongue and caused his stomach to cramp. But realising the hidden meaning of Draco’s message was far more painful and twice as bitter.

If the Head of the Aurors had called in a Seer that meant they had no idea at all what had happened or where Hermione could be.

oooOooo

When Hermione opened her eyes again, she lay on a narrow bed in a small room that was only dimly lit by a candle on a small table. The man from before sat next to her bed.

Her head pounded and her limbs were heavy—weak with the administered drugs and a bone-deep feeling of despair. She knew that she should put up a fight. But she just couldn’t summon the strength.

With an effort she turned her head. Her gaze met the man’s grey stare. She could feel her mind clearing, and with her thoughts, her memories returned. Hermione swallowed painfully and licked her cracked lips. ‘Please,’ she managed.

After a long moment of silence, the man looked at her sadly and nodded.

A minute later she felt once more the prick of a needle. She sighed with relief as the darkness took all knowledge away.