Hermione observed the ten werewolves for an hour and a half, letting them chat or sit quietly as they preferred while she made sure that their blood tests held true and that none of them had become allergic or reacted in an unanticipated way once the potion was actually ingested. Everyone seemed fine, and Hermione recorded all the vitals and initial reactions in her Weresbane journal, which already listed such information as their names, ages, weight, sex, pertinent medical history, and how long they'd been werewolves. She wanted to be sure that she had all the proper records should there be a problem at any point, and if she ever published or shared her research with others, she'd need all the facts at her disposal.
Then she tried to convince them to get some rest.
"I know it might not seem right now as though you could sleep a wink, but I'm betting that most of you were up last night. You all need to be in top shape for what we're doing tonight. Since you've all been working on meditation techniques, try lying down and meditating and see what happens, all right?"
She was in charge as far as their cure went, so they all made the attempt for her. Given how little she'd wanted to sleep last night, she sympathized with their restlessness, but not only was it important that they were well-rested, as she'd told them, it also kept them occupied for the afternoon. Especially if they meditated before they slept, they would hopefully be unworried in slumber.
In preparation for this test, they'd screened off one section of the dungeon. Since there were so many fewer werewolves down here this evening and since they weren't dangerous on the new moon, she didn't mind having them as one large group rather than in individual cells. She wanted them to feel as human and un-werewolf-like as possible when they were finding their Animagus forms. She and Remus had agreed that not being caged would go a long way to calming that subconscious awareness that every werewolf retained.
The ten of them made their attempt at sleep, several of them dropping off immediately, and Hermione unobtrusively warded when the snoring became loud enough to bother some of the others.
In this group, the youngest was eighteen. Gary had come back to his family in England upon graduation from Beauxbatons the year before only to be bitten by a werewolf almost straightaway. Remus had been keeping an eye on the boy whenever possible, and he was one of the first to sign up for the cure. He'd made no bones about not agreeing with Voldemort, and he'd been one of the angriest when the werewolves were used by Voldemort in January. Before he'd been bitten, he'd been a gazelle Animagus.
Heather and Roger were ex-Aurors, attacked in the line of duty and quietly bundled off by the Ministry. They were somewhat bitter, but they'd spent their life fighting darkness and didn't seem willing to change that even now that they were classified as "dark creatures". Heather had been a bluebird Animagus before she had been bitten, and Roger had come top in Transfiguration in his year and had been looking into learning how to transform as a result of his partnership with Heather.
Alexander had a son who was an Animagus; he had been so proud of what his son had accomplished. Though he hadn't understood the theory very well at first, he had been reading up on it on his own when the call about the cure had come through, and he was happy to put his new theoretical knowledge to good use now.
Liam and Varda were fraternal twins who had turned into identical looking bats—as unregistered as Gary had been—and who had left the country when they were bitten five years previously. Remus had known of them and had called them back as soon as the Weresbane trial became viable.
Willow, Rafe, and Justin had received excellent Transfiguration N.E.W.T.s and had maintained their skills in the workplace; once they had been classified as not completely human, jobs had become harder to come by. They had been some of the happiest when the lessons by the Order members had been proposed, and they were thrilled that the subject they enjoyed so much was part of their cure.
The last candidate, whom Hermione and Remus had waffled over including in this first trial, had been a healer before her disease had rendered her unemployable. Mary had no particular Animagus training, but she knew a great deal about the human body and was deeply interested in the cure. Hermione and Remus had finally agreed that she would be one of the better people to explain to those who had never tried to be Animagi before what it felt like and how to go about learning to do it in as condensed a period as was required for this cure.
Remus had been working with the ten of them extensively, and he was pleased with their progress. He and Hermione were both hoping that these ten people would be in a good position to aid the other werewolves once the cure was complete; the more people they had working together on this, the better the chance of success.
The afternoon passed slowly. They'd not made it more than a half hour into the napping before she knew that Ron was regretting he'd come. He didn't complain and was, in fact, on his best behaviour, but it didn't mean it wasn't easy to read the boredom in his restless movements and to know that he was considering all the Quidditch-related activities he wasn't involved in so that he could be here.
She moved over to sit next to him. "You realize that you're one of the people our test group is most anxious to talk to?"
"Huh?"
She smiled at him, leaning closer to whisper, "You're an Animagus. You've already completed the transformation that they'll be desperately trying to achieve today."
It was clear that Ron hadn't considered this, and he sat up a little straighter.
"Of course, it's mildly inconvenient that you're not registered with the Ministry, but I'm sure if you keep everything general, no one here will cause any problems. And just remember, if all else fails, you learnt how to do it three days ago."
"Three days ago?" he repeated with confusion.
She nodded. "The Ministry offers a three-day grace period before a new Animagus has to register. That way, if you achieved the form on a Friday, you could properly register it on Monday. The Ministry has been known to make exceptions under extenuating circumstances, of course, but it's better to be safe than sorry wherever possible."
He grinned at her. "Do you have all the laws memorized?"
She shook her head, smiling back at him. "They've got a few too many, even for me. But when it concerns me or my friends, I try to know how the Ministry feels about it."
She'd informed all of them of that detail last year, in fact, but it didn't really surprise her that it had gone in one of Ron's ears and out the other.
Mary awoke soon after the discussion with Ron, and Hermione was amused to see that he actually approached her and struck up a conversation. The fact that the healer was twenty-seven, blonde, and quite pretty probably didn't hurt, of course.
As she sat back down in her own place, Harry raised his eyebrows at her.
"He was bored."
"I could see that," Harry answered. "What exactly was it you said that made him get up the nerve to go talk to her? You know how he is with pretty women."
They all spent a moment fondly recalling that aspect of the events surrounding the Triwizard Tournament.
"I just reminded him of why they were all here and what special skills he had that they might find useful."
Beside Harry, Draco groaned.
"Don't tell me Weasley is an Animagus."
She nodded, managing with an effort to say very solemnly, "Learnt three days ago."
Harry's expression was confused, showing that his retention skills weren't always better than Ron's, but Draco smirked at her.
"On the way to the Ministry, is he?"
"I'm sure they'll understand how he couldn't ignore the call of all these people in need."
Draco snorted. "I'm sure. At least he's stopped twitching. That was getting rather annoying."
"You could give it a go, too, if you're bored."
"What, chat up a handsome bloke?" Draco asked.
She rolled her eyes. "Help explain the transformation to someone else, idiot."
Draco leaned back in his seat. "That doesn't sound nearly as entertaining."
She laughed, and Harry excused himself to make tea. Watching his very stiff back as he came near to stomping up the stairs, she sighed.
"Might have asked me if I wanted any," Draco grumbled absently.
"Draco, I think you need to head up to the kitchen to chat up a handsome bloke."
His expression was disdainful. "I'm not going to chat up anyone. Harry—" His words stopped as his eyes rose to the ceiling as though he could see straight through it to the room above. He stood. "Harry is in a snit in the kitchen. Excuse me."
She inclined her head and watched him go, hoping that Harry would become more secure in their relationship the longer it lasted. Being mistreated throughout his formative years hadn't exactly done wonders for his self-esteem, but she had faith that Draco genuinely cared for Harry—and Harry for Draco—and that they would therefore manage everything in the end.
It was three quarters of an hour before the two of them returned. Neither had tea, and while Draco looked immaculate, Harry looked distinctly dishevelled. Both looked quite happy. Smirking to herself, she didn't say a word, despite the temptation to make Harry blush.
It grew later. The werewolves ate their meatless dinner. The moon set, and Minerva and Tonks arrived, having put in an appearance at dinner at Hogwarts. Hermione broke the werewolves down into smaller groups, working on whatever their biggest weakness for the upcoming transformation was. Minerva was happy to discuss the Animagus transformation, and Tonks settled in by Remus's side as he discussed the wolf in depth.
Finally, it was nine o'clock, the time which Hermione had set for the beginning of the transformation process. As she had successfully done with Draco and Remus during their cure, she got each of the werewolves sitting comfortably and then lulled each into a wolf-oriented trance. Silencing charms ensured they wouldn't disturb one another or be distracted as the five unafflicted humans sat back to wait.
Ten minutes in, Draco wanted to know what she'd done while she was waiting for him and Remus to get on with it, and she was amused by the fact that Ron had to actually close his mouth, expression indicating that he had intended to make a similar observation. Every time they behaved in a similar manner, she wanted to grin like an idiot, especially as she knew that pointing it out to them would only annoy them. She could see Ron practically swallowing his tongue so as not to agree with Draco on this; cordiality only went so far, apparently. She told Draco she'd sucked it up and been patient, and he was going to have to do the same.
Periodically, Hermione spent a moment listening in on their mental state, as Fawkes had done last time. From what she could tell, they all appeared to be deep down towards their core and none were exhibiting obvious signs of distress.
Once an hour had elapsed, she checked their mental status one last time and judged them ready to move on to the next step. She moved to stand in front of Heather and gestured the rest of her helpers with her. The werewolves had been seated in order from those they hoped would have the least trouble—the previous Animagi—on down to the ones they thought would have the most—Mary being at the end of the line.
"Please observe me carefully. It's my hope that it won't need to be me casting each of these spells. If we work together, I've every hope that we'll be able to help more people for the next transformation. Paying attention?"
They all nodded their assent; at the very least, it gave Ron and Draco more to do than to just stand there and be bored. She knew that Harry would be happy to contribute any way he could.
She breached the wards and smoothly cast.
Everyone watched as Heather's eyes opened. Like Remus, she was clearly shocked, lips spreading into a smile as she felt this painless transformation.
Hermione moved to the next person. Liam, too, took to the spell immediately, and she tried not to think about why they were both so happy with this transformation. She was helping them, she knew, and they were nearing the last of the horrible transformations they would ever have to make, but it still hurt Hermione to know what comparisons had to be so vivid in their minds.
When Remus assured her that he'd grasped what she was doing, she allowed him to cast the spell for Varda and Gary, Minerva for Roger and Rafe, Draco for Justin and Willow, Harry for Alexander, and finally Ron for Mary.
This was not, in retrospect, the wisest of moves, as Harry and Ron had the least experience; while she'd concentrated on giving them more time to see what she and the others were doing, she'd ended up having them work on the end of the line that was likely to have the most trouble. They nevertheless made it through every person until they reached Mary. Ron cast the spell, and one look at Mary told them that it had been ineffective. One look at her, and she and Harry were forcibly reminded of how he had looked when his spell had had no effect when they were trying to become Animagi in sixth year. Probably how Hermione had looked when she realized that she was not supposed to do it, either.
Mary was instantly disconsolate.
"It's no good. I can't do it. I—"
Hermione nudged Ron out of the way and stepped right up to the other woman.
"Mary, look at me," she ordered sternly.
Mary's eyes met Hermione's. The Gryffindor formed an immediate mental connection, soothed the worry and self-doubt that she saw there, and spoke without breaking the connection.
"Känn Förvandlingen."
Mary gasped. Hermione could feel the sensations and fleeting images stream by her and slowly removed herself from the other woman's mind. Everyone was staring at her.
She shrugged. "I have an interesting skill set."
"Apparently," Bill said, looking quite impressed. "Now I know who to call in an emergency."
By now all the werewolves had come out of the spell, and Hermione congratulated them warmly on taking the first and most important step.
The rest of the night unfolded much as it had with Remus and Draco. She and all those assisting cast the spells the first time on the werewolves, and the latter practiced until they could do it themselves. They rested and ate as she instructed.
It was almost like a great big party because as each spell was successful, everyone grew more excited. They compared fur colours and snout length after they'd used the spell to see their transformation, and it was a riot seeing all of them prowl about the room in human form as they accessed their wolf senses for the first time.
To Harry, Bill, Tonks, and Minerva's alarm, Hermione performed the blood test again at this phase, but none of the werewolves suddenly leapt at her, trying to tear her into shreds, so she marked it down in her journal as a complete success.
It was the precise new moon at three fourteen, and she began the transformations at a quarter to the hour, as she was sure it was close enough for the more experienced werewolves.
She let Heather, Gary, Varda, and Liam cast the spell themselves, as they had already been Animagi, and she watched with delight as they turned into wolves who were practically prancing with joy. This filled the remaining six with visible enthusiasm and hope, and they set to work.
Rectifying her earlier mistake, she had Ron, Harry, and Minerva casting with the three who had top Transfiguration skills, and that left her, Draco, and Remus with the three who might have the most trouble: Roger, Alexander, and Mary.
One by one, each of them was able to transform, although the further that Hermione got down the line, the more power went into the spell, a boost of magic and direction for the werewolf. Still, it didn't take more than a reassuring smile from Hermione along with that borrowed power to lead to successful first transformations for even these last. Given in what a rocky manner the evening had started for them, this was a feat in and of itself.
But after what she had been able to do to get Mary to transform, the woman seemed to have no doubts about Hermione's abilities to help her at any point should she need it, and Alexander had trusted to that as well. Since it made both of them more confident, she hadn't discouraged the thought.
After several minutes of wolfy chaos, she got them all back into line, and she and her friends transformed them back into human form. Hermione had just begun all her dire warnings—which she thought needed to be drilled into their heads once more now that they had the actual ability to transform and have a horrible accident—when things went horribly wrong.
Part of the line disappeared.
A quick look around revealed that Roger was, in fact, halfway to the stairs. He had his wand in one hand, and with his other, he was using Ron as a shield, a wicked-looking knife at the redhead's throat. People started reaching for their wands, which resulted in the ex-Auror pressing the knife more closely to Ron's neck. A small trickle of blood snaked down his especially pale skin, and everybody froze.
Hermione thought a Vanishing charm at the blade, but it continued to glint solidly and malevolently, evidently Spelled to resist destruction. Bugger.
"Roger, what are you doing?" Heather demanded, complete incomprehension in her voice.
"What needs to be done," he answered coldly. "You don't honestly think I'm going to stay here with you bunch of freaks and misfits, do you?"
There was a rumble of dissent and movement, but the knife twitched, and everyone stilled once more.
"Roger." Remus had taken a step forward, voice pleading. "This isn't the way. We can still resolve this peacefully if you let him go."
"Oh, I think it's gone a little beyond that," Roger drawled. "I have somewhere I need to be, and a little bit of insurance is good company policy."
"And what are you going to tell him?" Hermione demanded, voice carefully cool and calm. "What will you say when he wants to know why you've left your post?"
She stepped forward, past Remus, glad that Roger couldn't see her heart, which was pounding fit to leap out of her chest. Fortunately, although there wasn't much she could do about her internal panic, she knew how to appear a good deal more rational. She and Harry and Ron had faced worse situations when they were younger and far less experienced. She held out her hands so that he could see that she was unarmed.
"I will tell him that I have the cure," he answered triumphantly.
Hermione laughed unkindly. "When you turn into a werewolf on the full moon, I doubt he'll believe you. That was only half the cure."
"I have your potion in my veins," Roger said, although he looked the slightest bit shaken.
She took a step closer, correcting in her best bookworm voice, "You've metabolized my potion, you mean. By the time someone draws your blood, there won't be a trace of my potion left."
"You're lying." A trickle of sweat slid from his forehead down his nose.
"You wish I were lying," she answered definitively. "Nobody on this planet knows that potion but me, and I'm telling you, you've metabolized it."
"Then I'll take him your journal," the man sneered. "Bring it to me."
She went to get the journal, though she could have Summoned it easily. She wished she could guarantee that she could Stun the man before he could injure Ron, but he had been an Auror, and they tended to have very good reflexes. She couldn't risk it.
Take-downs in hostage situations, she decided, were something they needed to cover in training as soon as possible.
She approached him slowly.
"Don't do it!"
It was Remus who'd admonished her, and she could hear a murmur of agreement from behind her. She stepped closer still to the man with the knife and paused just before she handed over the journal.
"Of course," she said conversationally, "it won't be a lot of good to you, since I'm the only one who can read it."
He frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"It's a record of my cure for lycanthropy. It looks blank to everyone but me."
She opened it and held it up for his inspection.
The hand holding the knife to Ron's throat jiggled a little, and she watched the trickle of blood wending its way down his throat grow a little thicker. The ex-Auror held out his other hand for the book, and she passed it over. He clutched at it.
"I'll find someone else who can read it, who can get past your charms."
"You won't," she answered with certainty.
Roger shook Ron's shoulder. "Then I'll take him. Harry Potter's best friend. I'll be rewarded for that!"
She shook her head, expression pitying. "You really think the Dark Lord will reward you for bringing one little boy when you were tasked with bringing him the cure? You're going to show up with no potion, with a book that no one can read, with no idea what happens on the full moon, and you think he's going to reward you? You'll be dead before the sun rises."
The knife dug a little deeper. "So will your friend."
"Then let's make this very simple," she said reasonably. "I wish my friend to live. You wish similarly to measure your life expectancy in something longer than hours. Take me instead."
He regarded her narrowly. "You're offering yourself."
"Yes."
"Hermione!" Harry yelled.
What hurt was the fact that when she looked in Ron's eyes, she knew he was feeling the same as those standing behind her: he was more expendable than she was.
What the hell are you doing? Harry demanded.
Trust me.
The beginnings of a smirk had edged its way onto Roger's face.
"The creator of the cure for lycanthropy. You'll come with me."
"I've said so," she said flatly.
He looked at her, carefully assessing, and she knew that he saw no lie in her. He gave the briefest of assents, she stepped closer, and in an instant, he'd flung Ron away, and she was pressed up against Roger with a knife blade at her throat.
She could feel the pounding of his heart through the layers of clothing between them and imagined that he must be able to feel hers, as well. Now they both knew that the other wasn't as calm as he or she looked, but given that she could feel the sharp bite of steel—steel, moreover, covered in a friend's blood—pressing against her neck, she doubted this came as much of a surprise to him.
She could feel the heat radiating off of him as well, giving herself a mental shake when she realized that she was disconcerted because she'd expected him to be cold. Every time he exhaled, his breath rushed by her ear and moved her hair. It was really annoying and her hands itched to tuck her hair behind her ear, but she crushed that insane impulse before it could get her killed.
"Gryffindors," he sneered. "So selfless. So righteous. It's going to cost you this time."
She felt him shift slightly and peered up at him, feeling the knife slide marginally down her throat, to find that he was staring at Harry, and she knew what he was suddenly considering.
"They'll let you kill me before you get anywhere near him," she said, trying to make sure that her jaw and neck moved as little as possible.
As one, Draco and Remus moved to stand in front of Harry.
The ex-Auror made a face but quickly decided to cut his losses. Hermione was very relieved that Voldemort generally seemed to have a "he is mine" policy that meant that neither Roger nor anyone who was on Voldemort's side at the school actively tried to kill Harry, just make periodic attempts to deliver him to their master.
"Let's go," Roger admonished. "I know I need one of you to Apparate."
"I can't Apparate from here," she volunteered, injecting what she hoped was the right amount of nervousness into her tone, of an attempt to accommodate him now that she was at his mercy. "Only from the lobby."
"Up we go, then," Roger said, sounding much more cheerful than he had a moment before.
They hobbled their way up the stairs after the usual threats about what would happen to her if anyone downstairs tried to so much as move before he was gone.
Harry, you can still sense my core, right?
Yes. He sounded even more frantic than he had when he had yelled at her aloud. You realize we're going to bugger up your brilliant plan if I have to come rescue you from Voldemort now?
She offered him a mental smile. Which is why you're going to unMask just a bit, and on the count of three you're going to do your best to pull my core to your core.
Huh?
They reached the lobby and managed to shock a scream out of Molly, who was passing by in the living room and froze in shock at sight of them.
I know it sounds a little odd, but just do it.
But—
One.
Despite his protest, he was obeying her; she could now feel how much easier it was to sense his core in the basement beneath her. She unMasked her core more, too, moving from the regular partially Masked of the everyday wizard to something that was a little more visible to those who knew what to look for.
As Harry did.
"Ta, Molly," Roger said before whispering fiercely in Hermione's ear, "Hogsmeade, the Shrieking Shack."
Two.
The knife pressed tighter. "I'll Apparate us from there, and you won't have a neck left if you try to double-cross me."
This house was surrounded by her wards, and she'd built safeguards into them. She'd designed them to have a very specific reaction when she moved through them under duress.
She'd just have to hope she didn't slit her throat in the process, as this was not the precise scenario that she had imagined during construction.
Three.
She felt the pull of Harry's magic and flung herself towards it while pushing Roger away as hard as she could in that in-between moment where they weren't in real space and she could therefore hope that a knife was no longer pressed up against her neck.
Breaking up Side-Along Apparition mid-Apparition was not exactly recommended, but it seemed preferable to her other options.
When they reappeared, they weren't in the Shrieking Shack. Roger had fallen to his knees in a locked cell in the dungeon out of which he'd dragged her a moment ago, and she had collapsed onto the ground on the other side of the bars, halfway between Harry and Roger.
He went for his wand, and she magically reached through her wards and snapped the wand in two. She rose to her feet, mostly steady, and stepped closer to the bars. He scrambled marginally away from her.
"This is my safe house," she ground out. "These are my wards. These are my friends. If you thought for a second that I would let you injure them, you are out of your mind. You are going to stay there, and you are not going to speak until you are next spoken to, and then we are going to have a very long discussion."
She didn't wait for a confirmation that he had understood what she had said, just slammed up a Silencing Charm to go with all the other wards that were already in place. Then she turned back to face the rest of the room.
Ron was still on the floor and everyone else was standing where she had last seen them, still frozen in shock. She flung herself at the redhead and burst into tears. He wrapped his arms around her.
"Don't you ever look at me like that again," she whispered fiercely, and he held her closer.
Her emotional breakdown was brief, and then she drew back to take a better look at him. She wordlessly cleaned the blood off his neck and followed this up with a healing charm. Since it was a shallow cut, it was easily accomplished.
"You're bleeding, too," he said, voice gruff.
She reached to touch the spot on her neck that he indicated and found that her fingers came away smeared with blood. She was apparently still on an adrenaline high; she didn't feel it and couldn't have said exactly when Roger had cut her.
They climbed to their feet together and turned to face the rest of the room.
"Anybody better at healing than Ron?"
There was a sudden group hug that involved pretty much everyone in the room. The commotion only grew louder when Molly came thundering down the stairs to report what had happened, gasping when she saw Hermione was there and crushing her against her bosom.
"Praise Merlin, you're all right," Molly breathed.
They'd dose her up with a Calming Draught, Hermione decided, before they told her what had actually occurred.
With an effort, Hermione extricated herself and got everyone's attention. Although her body was starting to feel a bit like a limp noodle, her mind was curiously clear. There was no way on Earth that she was going to let Voldemort's plan ruin her cure for the men and women standing in front of her.
"The night's not over. We're not finished with our transformations, so this is what's going to happen: brand new Animagi, you are going back to that end of the room, and I'm going to be warding you in there with me, Ron, Draco, Harry, and Remus. The five of us are going to ensure that you learn everything you need to learn before the moon rises. Bill, Tonks, Minerva, and Molly, you're going to go upstairs, where I trust the Order members are keeping an eye on everyone." Molly nodded. "You're going to escort the other werewolves down here and into the cells. Minerva, please go back to Hogwarts to inform Albus of what has occurred. Tonks, contact Kingsley, who'll want to be here, I think, because you're going to question everyone under Veritaserum." She Summoned a bottle from the warded cupboard where she kept all the potions she thought she might need here and handed it to Tonks.
None of them attempted to gainsay her, those she had named heading straight for the stairs. She turned back to those assembled in front of her.
"You'll all be questioned after the moon has risen and the Weresbane has worn off."
They all nodded, none of them protesting her autocratic decisions. Her trust in them had been forcibly shaken, and she needed to get the situation back under control with the least damage done possible. En masse, they moved back to the location she had indicated, and she threw up a barrier so that the nine of them wouldn't be distracted by all the other werewolves and the commotion behind them.
"I thought you said the potion had been metabolized already," Harry said quietly at her side.
"I did say," she agreed.
His eyebrows rose. "You sounded very convincing."
Draco and Ron nodded their agreement.
"Good. That was the goal."
"How did you—" Ron started, but she held up her hand.
"I'll answer questions later. It's half four, and we still have work to do."
"You don't care," Heather asked, "that one of us just tried to kidnap you and one of your friends? Hurt you? Nearly kill you? You don't care that he supports He Who Must Not Be Named?"
"Greyback is one of the most loathsome wizards I have ever known," Hermione answered, "beaten only by Voldemort and some of his closest Death Eaters. I've not given up on werewolves or pure-bloods or wizards because of a few bad individuals, and I don't intend to start now. I knew it was possible something like this could happen, although I'd hoped it wouldn't."
She sounded very assured when she said this, apparently, because tension eased out of most of the bodies in front of her.
"I can't take your wands away from you because that will make it impossible for you to transform on your own. I'd hoped that you'd all be able to travel throughout the entire dungeon to get a feel for your form, but that's unfeasible right now. I'm going to put up wards between everyone, wards that I can cast through, while you cannot. I'm sorry."
It was still Heather who spoke, as though the fact that Roger had been her partner in the Auror Department meant that she shouldered some of the blame now. "It's we who are sorry, Hermione." There was nodding and murmurs of agreement from the eight other people. "Whatever you need to do to keep everyone safe is fine with us."
Hermione nodded and drew back so that she could cast, dividing the end of the room into ten sections that were as large as possible: one long skinny rectangle that stretched the length of the other nine for her and the others to keep an eye on everyone's efforts, and nine other areas for the Animagi. She made the wards shimmer visibly so that everyone could easily see the delineations of their area.
I can cast through it as well? Harry asked.
She sent a mental nod.
As unrelaxing as it had been, they'd now all had some time in human form, so she moved ahead with their attempt to transform back into wolf form all by themselves. She resumed her aborted warnings about what would happen if they stayed in animal form, reminded them that they would need to be one hundred percent comfortable in this form and in getting to this form by the full moon, and made sure they were all aware of the likelihood of losing their clothes at first. After a moment's further consideration of the problem, she had them conjure robes that they set to the side. Each time they lost their clothing and had to don the robe before the next transformation, they could simply conjure another robe to be waiting for them in case they needed it.
Although Harry and Ron blushed again at just the mention of this fact, all of the people in front of her had been through monthly transformations that resulted in them waking up naked, injured, and sometimes in an unknown location, so they were far less self-conscious than her friends. For these werewolves, the idea of transforming and retaining clothes was a novelty, and as Hermione watched them successfully transform into wolves and back into human form, she realized that they were so used to transforming unclothed that it was affecting their transformations now. Of the nine people facing Hermione, only Varda was still dressed the first time human form was re-achieved.
Three quarters of an hour passed quickly and agreeably, all things considered; no matter what had happened previously, these werewolves had more hope than they'd had in a long time. Although the Animagi didn't get to reclaim their old forms, they got to be animals once more, and all of them were glorying in the pain-free transformations. Like Remus, those who had been werewolves for some time remembered the bits that had been enjoyable, and now they were getting the chance to experience only these positive elements.
Since Hermione's friends were now doing little more than watching the werewolves in front of them, they were starting to fade. Draco was resting his head on Harry's shoulder while Ron's chin jerked up periodically as he woke from a light doze and then started to nod off once more.
Hermione was just starting to feel as though her adrenaline high was gone and she might, therefore, be able to sleep sometime in the next week when she heard the commotion behind her. She'd set the barrier to block all sight and sound for everyone who wasn't her because she'd figured someone needed to be reachable on her side of the barrier in case of emergency. Someone had screamed, and Kingsley, Bill, and Tonks were crowded around Roger's cell.
Hermione rose, admonished those in front of her not to worry but to stay where they were, and passed through her barrier. Though Kingsley had looked as though he wished to prevent her arrival, he allowed it. Reaching the cell, all the breath left her in a rush.
The blood had spread all the way to the edge of the cell on the right-hand side. Were it not for her wards, it would have leaked further, and they might have noticed sooner.
Roger was very pale, and it was clear that he hadn't wasted much time once she had banished him there. In her drive to ensure that he wasn't a threat to anyone else, she had destroyed his wand, but she'd forgotten all about the knife, which was completely useless to attack others when he was trapped in the cell.
Her throat worked, and it took her a moment to remember how to swallow properly. Achieving this, she found it hadn't done much for her ability to speak, but she forced the words out anyway.
"May I Vanish the blood?"
Her voice, she was mildly surprised to note, sounded utterly calm and dispassionate. She was being as logical about the matter as she could, and although it was the new moon, they had almost fifty werewolves in this room, and a dead body and a pool of blood wasn't likely to cause pleasant associations for any of them.
Kingsley assented. She lowered her wards and did as she had said, leaving a frail-looking, lifeless corpse where an angry, hurtful man had been so little time ago. There were long gashes on either arm and he'd managed to take a swipe at his own throat as a last act, leaving him sprawled awkwardly, but ensuring, she supposed, that they couldn't have rescued him before he bled out.
She stared down at the body of the man who had tried to betray them even though she had offered a free cure.
"Those behind the barrier," she indicated the ward she had cast, "are the only ones who were down here when he tried to escape with Ron and then me. Molly saw the two of us when we got up the stairs. Once we've finished for the night, we'll answer any questions you might have."
Tonks had probably told him most of this already, but it seemed necessary in this moment for Hermione to say it all.
"Could he have been killed?" Kingsley asked, voice low.
"Only if you wish to blame me," she answered evenly. "He was sealed behind my wards, which are intact. I did not think of the knife, which he had on him when I put him in there. I've been with the other werewolves since that time."
"Very well," he said seriously, inclining his head. "Go finish."
She moved away, but turned back and indicated the body. "Don't let the children see."
He offered a very grave nod. "Of course not."
Her own nod in response was slightly shaky, but she still managed it before forcing herself to walk back through her ward. The werewolves, fortunately, were occupied enough not to have noticed. Her friends were looking at her expectantly.
She sat down slowly, feeling a million years old. She exhaled, carefully drew air back into her lungs, and gave in to the inevitable.
"Roger is dead."
They stared at her in shock.
"He killed himself. I left him with the knife."
Harry leapt up and rushed over to her, pulling her into a hug. "Don't talk like that. We were all there. None of us thought of it."
But she was the one who'd put him in there. She should have thought of it. She only nodded, though, because there were other concerns right now. It was crucial that she not allow anything to jeopardize the chances of the nine people in front of her, and that meant she couldn't fall apart. They were going to get through all of this.
The moon finally rose, and she released the wards that had separated the nine new Animagi. Apologetically, she Summoned all their wands and then congratulated them once more.
"Remus is going to be working closely with you over the next two weeks, and you're all going to be paying complete attention to his warnings and rules, right?"
They nodded agreement.
"Okay." She let out a sigh she couldn't seem to prevent. "Some questions are going to be asked."
"I'll go first," Heather said immediately.
"Having a problem with Roger doesn't mean we have a problem with you," Hermione said gently.
"I need to go first." A wealth of emotions tight in her voice.
Hermione nodded. She could understand that desire. She swallowed. "I can't let you go out there unprepared, so I have to tell you one more piece of … unsettling news."
Gary spoke. "Haven't we reached our limit for the day?"
She gave him a wan smile. "If only. Roger killed himself."
Heather's breath caught; Hermione met her eyes with compassion. "I know. It's a horrible end to a very long night."
"But we're all going to get through it," Remus said bracingly. "We're all going to be here for each other."
Again, they all managed to nod, though this time it was with varying degrees of complete shock still painting their features. Hermione lowered the wards and turned the nine new Animagi over to Kingsley, indicating that Heather was volunteering to go first to get the ball rolling.
Kingsley accepted this at face value, and off they went.
As the morning progressed, he continued to show his thoughtfulness, coming to speak to Hermione, Harry, Remus, Draco, and Ron all together in the library once the nine first trial subjects had been questioned. If this were a proper investigation, there'd be separation and likely Veritaserum for the lot of them. Kingsley was really here, though, in his capacity as an Order member and because she wanted to know if there was a chance that anybody else was in danger. They both knew that she trusted these friends.
Collectively, they explained what had happened, Ron starting with how Roger had pulled the knife and grabbed him and how Hermione had noticed. She followed up with her bid to protect Ron and a quick explanation of one of the details of her wards, and the rest finished with any impressions they'd had as observers.
"That's what I've got from everyone so far," Kingsley agreed. "Testing under Veritaserum shows those nine to be with us."
Hermione nodded. She hadn't thought there'd be another traitor in that group, but she wasn't taking any chances.
"Good," Ron said fervently. "I don't think I can handle another night of excitement like this one."
Harry snorted. "I don't think your mum's going to let you anywhere near any situation that might be remotely dangerous ever again."
Ron groaned. "Don't remind me."
Harry and Draco chuckled slightly, and Hermione tipped up her lips into a slight smile. She'd put a Calming Draught and a shot of brandy into the tea that she'd given to Molly, and it was still a minor miracle that the woman had let Ron out of her sight so that he could join the rest of them in the library now.
There was no use wishing it, but Hermione did anyway. Tonight would have been so triumphant if Roger hadn't pulled out that knife. Right now, they'd all have been happily eating breakfast, probably. Instead, everyone was on edge and confused, and Hermione felt as though her triumph had burnt to ashes in front of her.
"You can head back to Hogwarts, and I'll apprise you as soon as I have any information," Kingsley said. She just looked at him, and his mouth twitched. "Or you can stay right here, and I'll still tell you right away."
She offered him a tired but genuine smile. "There we go, then. I think we'd better head to the kitchen for a stimulant of some kind."
Kingsley nodded, rising. "I believe Molly's started on breakfast."
"Thanks, Kingsley."
"Don't mention it," he replied immediately. "There is every reason for me to be here, Hermione."
He went back to complete his duty, and they rejoined Molly in the kitchen. Ron, Draco, and Remus went straight for the coffee. Harry and Hermione perched on chairs at the table but didn't make any particular move towards the food and drink. Hermione was feeling a little queasy and didn't think that adding anything to her stomach right now would be a good plan.
She wasn't suffering from the effects of the sleepless night to the degree that the others were, so caffeine was unnecessary. Phoenixes slept more than unicorns did, as far as she'd gathered; Harry still seemed to require a more or less regular allotment of sleep, but it had been years since he'd slept quite like a normal person, and one day of being kept up all night was hardly going to do him in.
Ron weaseled his mother out of any food that she'd already started preparing despite the fact that she'd greeted their arrival in the kitchen with an announcement that food wasn't being served until everyone was there to partake of it. Hermione had the feeling that at the current moment, Ron would be able to convince his mother to send him daily food care packages to Hogwarts if that's what he wanted.
The worried mother was shooting glances at him far more frequently than normal as she continued to make the food, quick little looks as though to ensure that he was still there and still unharmed. One beseeching look with an empty plate, and Ron had found the china loaded with eggs, bacon, sausage, kippers, tomatoes, and potatoes. Toast was set out already.
Hermione backed her chair away back from the table and managed a smile for the concerned-looking Harry.
You all right?
Fine, she answered shortly. He sent her a very pointed mental look. She responded with a sigh. I don't think I could eat right now if you paid me. Fortunately, it looks like Ron has me covered for the next week of meals.
Harry snorted. He has the metabolism of a hummingbird. I don't understand where the food goes.
Hollow leg. Weasley family trait, I think.
Harry laughed.
Hey! You can't give me this cool power and then not include me when you use it.
Fortunately, Draco didn't sound truly offended, just mildly annoyed, as he often did when this topic came up.
Maybe it was a conversation that wasn't any of your business, Hermione proposed evenly.
Draco pshawed. Everything concerning Harry concerns me, Hermione.
She raised mental eyebrows, especially at Harry's bemused expression.
Did you remember to tell him that?
It goes without saying, Draco said regally.
Hermione shook her head. I'm glad you think so, Draco.
She let their conversation fade to the back of her mind as they mentally bickered. It was closer to play fighting than actual arguing, as she didn't think Harry really minded that Draco felt that proprietary about him; in fact, given his upbringing, she would wager that Harry enjoyed having someone he cared about take such an interest.
Despite the caffeine, by the time Kingsley came upstairs, Remus, Ron, Draco, and Harry had all nodded off at the table. Hermione suspected that Harry had been happier to cuddle with Draco than anything else.
She rose at Kingsley's entrance as the tension eased from his face at sight of all of them resting around the table like that. She'd made sure that none of them got faces full of breakfast, and proper beds would be achieved soon enough.
She and Kingsley stepped into the lobby; she would catch the others up afterwards.
"Well?"
"I've come up empty. According to all the evidence we could gather, Roger Statten was the only active supporter of Voldemort or person intending to betray or harm you or your cause."
Hermione felt the big knot of tension inside of her ease slightly. "That's good news."
He nodded.
"It would be better if we could have questioned him," she said with frustration.
Kingsley offered a slight nod but accompanied it with a shrug. "He was an Auror. He knows all about interrogation techniques, and he cared enough about his secrets to kill himself quickly. I know you blame yourself about the knife." He looked at her intently. "It's really not your fault. If it hadn't been that, he would have managed it in some other way. He didn't want any of us questioning him."
"I could have Stunned him," she said, still angry with herself. "Bound him until you arrived."
"And he could still have killed himself before we were able to question him," Kingsley said, face very serious. "We're all trained in what to do if we're captured by the enemy with sensitive information in our possession and no hope of escape."
She let out a breath, saying slowly, "I guess I can't compete with that."
He shook his head. "Much as this is your cure, you're also not the only person here, and you know as well as I that there were other Aurors and Order members present. It's not your job to think of everything. You had other concerns, and you did what had to be done."
It would certainly be going down in her memory as one of those memorably disastrous nights with which her life was peppered.
"All right," she agreed, almost convinced. "So far as we can establish, everyone is now on the level and genuinely desirous of the cure."
"So far as we can establish," he agreed blandly.
She knew that both of them were thinking of Severus, who'd survived for years as a spy, no matter who doubted him and what tests were performed to prove his loyalties. There were no absolute certainties in this.
"Thank you for coming," she repeated. "It's been a relief having you to take charge of all of that. Interrogations are not my favourite pastime."
Kingsley closed his eyes briefly, opening them to say with a shake of his head and a wry smile, "I'm not even going to ask. I think we're done here for now."
Hermione nodded. "I hope you'll make it back to your bed."
"For a little while, perhaps."
They separated; he Disapparated, and she headed down to the dungeon, first to retrieve Tonks, black-haired and looking dead on her feet, to rouse the others in the kitchen, and then to let the werewolves out of their cells.
Hermione thanked them for cooperating, apologized for the horrible night they'd had, and promised she'd be back in two weeks' time.
They were a very sombre-looking group.
"This has been an ordeal for all of us, I know." The edge of horror and sorrow in her voice wouldn't quite disappear, but they'd all been here and had shared the experience. She made sure her tone was still firm. "But I'm looking at a group of the strongest people I know. Life has thrown some of its worst at you, and you've all kept fighting. We're in this together, and I know that setbacks aren't going to stop us. Te—" She faltered and started over. "Nine of your fellow werewolves have taken the first step today that will lead to their cure, and all of you will be following in their footsteps. We've had a rough first night of it, but that just means there's plenty of room for improvement. Thank you all for being so patient and understanding."
They offered her a round of applause, and she sniffled a little, thanked them again, and sent them upstairs for breakfast. Arriving in the lobby herself, she witnessed Remus give Tonks a hug and gentle kiss and Molly smother Ron. Farewells were exchanged all round, and then the Hogwarts contingent Apparated back to the gates of the school.
It was, somewhat unbelievably, ten in the morning. They'd all known that the moon had risen along with the sun, but they'd spent so long in the dungeon and then mired in such dark circumstances that, from the looks on the others' faces, she wasn't the only one who was taken aback by the bright blue sky and streaming sunlight. Pathetic fallacy was not in operation, and it was rather disconcerting.
Now that Tonks was with them and it was so late in the day, they gained the entrance openly. It was well past breakfast time, so the entryway was not populated with students. Tonks headed upstairs at once, saying that she'd promised Minerva an updated report as soon as she got back.
Almost as though he'd been lying in wait, Severus appeared the moment the Auror was gone, stalking up to them at his most bat-like, crossing his arms to glare down at them.
"Where have you been?" he demanded. "We were to have a meeting this morning."
Hermione didn't remember them making any sort of arrangement for a training session, but given her current state it was entirely possible she wouldn't remember—and equally possible that he'd made the decision that morning before setting out to find them.
She looked up at him and meant to say something about them needing a few minutes to prepare or to sleep but what came out was, "I killed someone."
At her side, Harry took her elbow and squeezed, voice trembling with emotion. "You didn't kill anyone! He killed himself."
Dark eyes bore into hers. "By all means, listen to Mr Potter, Miss Granger. He's always been good at blaming others when someone dies."
Harry took a step forward and had to be restrained by Draco on his other side, and she realized peripherally that the blond had also taken a hold of Ron, which she was sure should be funnier than she was currently finding it.
She had hoped without even realizing, it now became apparent to her, that she would receive support from this quarter, not condemnation.
She managed a shaky nod as she felt her eyes tear up.
"Severus," Draco hissed, censure plain in his voice, "that was uncalled for."
She'd said she'd never cry in front of him, she remembered distantly. Sniffing, she swiped at her eyes and fought for control, wondering why it still felt as though she'd been punched in the stomach.
"Mr Malfoy—" Severus began, voice icy.
"Draco." She knew interrupting was bad, but it was better than letting Severus finish his sentence and making Draco suffer for something that wasn't remotely his fault. "It's fine. Professor Snape is entitled to his opinion, and we all know that he's always been brutally honest with me."
"Hermione, it's not true." Harry sounded close to frantic.
She looked back to Severus. "I'd like to change out of these clothes, but we can be ready in a few minutes."
He sneered at her. "You've kept me waiting for hours already."
Harry was flushed and looked about to fling Draco's restraining hand off and attack. Ron was brick red. Hermione felt her own blood pressure rising, and it really didn't mix well with the pain and queasiness that she was already feeling.
With a growl, she made an impatient and furious wave of her hand that disrobed Ron, Harry, Draco, and herself and conjured new and clean clothing too fast for the eye to see.
The three boys were now too stunned to do violence to Severus.
"Did she just—?" Ron asked.
"Yup," Harry said.
She stared challengingly at Severus. "You said there was a meeting?"
Without another word, he turned on his heel and stalked off, and the rest of them followed. The last time Ron had been to a training session was months ago, but he made no attempt to declare Quidditch practice or any other commitment that might prevent him from joining them now.
Once they reached Room One, Severus curtly ordered them into teams, he and Draco against the three Gryffindors. It was unlike him to stagger them unevenly out of his favour, but in the mood he was in, she didn't even contemplate asking him what he was thinking—especially as he launched his first spell almost as soon as he'd declared the division between them.
None of them were in the mood for fighting or violence, but Severus was throwing spells at them, so they were forced to respond. With Ron on her side, neither she nor Harry could cast a sympathetic shield unless they didn't want the redhead to be able to fight. The longer Severus maintained his attack, the more tempting this option became.
Then Severus cast a Cutting Curse at her, and she froze. The wash of red light sped towards her, and she contemplated how different they were, a steel blade and that arc of light, yet they both caused the same damage, sliced through the skin and made blood flow, let people die….