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Chapter 3


You know, the surprising thing was that he felt so damned clear-headed. Maybe it was one of the potions Madam Pomfrey had poured down his gob in that hour immediately after, when he had been tractable and waiting for the thing to sink in. Harry had attributed his lucidity at first to a lingering adrenaline rush, but that had faded hours ago to leave the rather stupefying realisation that the final duel had been, well... anticlimactic. Nice big word, that one, Hermione would be proud of him.

The halls were far too crowded. Beds lined the stone walls, and crushes of people moved among them. Parents, coming to the school in droves now that word had gotten out, looked for their children with stricken faces, students looked for their friends, and Healers demonstrated inhuman patience in fending off all as they moved about the beds, treating patients. He moved among them carefully, checking for a distinctive bushy head of hair, with no luck. Down on the second floor, there was more room to breathe and slightly less despair. Not much more room than outside the hospital wing, though; chairs, not beds, lined the walls and thorough interviews were underway. He heard snatches of them as he meandered past.

"Did you see Draco Malfoy among the Death Eaters, or could it have been someone else?"

"And what colour light did that spell give off?"

"It was just like he said, I was right next to him, she took two Stunners, a Blasting Curse and a Cruciatus almost at the same time, and those were just what I could see. They must have wanted her down really bad."

It was a bit easier to search here, as more people were seated in chairs waiting their turn than milling about. Conversation slowed as he walked by, and that spot in between his shoulder blades prickled with the annoying weight of eyes watching him. He quickened his pace, not in the mood for it. Dumbledore had heard the entire story from him already; if anyone wanted to hear Harry's tale, they could jolly well ask the headmaster. He flushed when the whispers reached his ears, too discreet to make out, exactly, but not near discreet enough. Was this a mere forerunner of the rest of his life? Sly peeks at his forehead, whispers when they thought he couldn't hear, eyes watching him when they thought he wouldn't see? That was a rather nasty thought.

"Harry!"

Dammit. Ignore them.

"Hey, Harry!"

It wasn't very loud at first but it startled him anyway. Reckon he was still a bit jumpy, what with the cataclysmic battle for the future of wizard kind and all that.

Good god, they weren't. It grew louder. They were.

They were giving him a standing ovation. The faces around him were bleak, tired and utterly without joy, yet the noise swelled to a thundering crescendo

Harry fervently wished that the floor would open and swallow him whole. If Hermione were any sort of friend, she would appear at his elbow right now and lead him off to safety. Someone thumped him on the back. Any time now, Hermione.

"Harry!" Professor Lupin was fighting his way through the throng.

"Professor Lupin," Harry said, relieved. The older man grabbed his hand and pulled him through the watching crowd, the applause dying away once the unenthusiastic recipient was out of earshot. Professor Lupin tugged him down the corridors, looking sombre. Sombre was Lupin's usual expression though, and not remarkably out of place.

"Pumpkin juice."

"Huh?" Harry had not noticed where they were going, and was baffled by Lupin's remark until he heard stone moving. The gargoyles guarding the headmaster's office rolled away to reveal the staircase.

"Dumbledore would like a word, Harry." Lupin looked suspiciously sympathetic. Harry's eyes narrowed and he stayed where he was.

"About what?"

Lupin quietly implored him. "Up the stairs, Harry."

For Lupin, his dad's and godfather's old friend, Harry would do most anything. He climbed the stairs, knowing he would likely regret this.

A fire crackled in the hearth, its cheery light bouncing on the walls. Scrolls of parchment littered the headmaster's desk, with an untouched tray to one side, and a quill, curiously animated to write on a scroll that unrolled as the quill needed. Dumbledore was there, as was Mundungus Fletcher and Professor McGonagall. Lupin joined them.

"Harry. Please, have a seat." Dumbledore indicated a cosy-looking stuffed chair.

"No thanks," Harry said, still suspicious. "I'll stand."

"As you prefer." The headmaster's thin fingers rested on the parchment briefly, without disturbing the busy scratchings of the quill. "You've been looking for Miss Granger, as have we. The interviews aren't nearly close to being completed yet, but we do have word about her."

Harry perked up. "Where is she? She's not in the hospital wing."

Dumbledore hesitated; not the hesitation of one who doesn't plan to disclose information, but more the hesitation of one looking for the right words. "It appears that she isn't even at Hogwarts. Both Seamus Finnegan and Colin Creevey, house mates of yours, saw her become separated from you and Mr. Weasley, and believe they saw her fall shortly after. No, let me finish, Harry. Though the exact circumstances are inconsistent, this seems to be relatively accurate. The pair of you were distracted- indeed, I think we all were- by the appearance then of Lord Voldemort. You know how that part of the battle ended from there."

Harry nodded. Dumbledore continued. "You might recall several Death Eaters positioned near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Shortly after Lord Voldemort died, two students claim to have seen one of these Death Eaters run to the fallen Miss Granger, and pick her up and carry her away."

He felt slightly sick. "The Death Eaters have her? But I saw, those ones didn't get away. They had no where to run."

Dumbledore nodded. "And we have several eyewitness accounts to verify that. Those particular Death Eaters are now awaiting the Minister's pleasure. However, Professor McGonagall has personally searched the area agreed upon as the one where Miss Granger had fallen. She isn't there."

Harry's face was the very picture of bafflement.

"There's a bit more," Dumbledore continued gently. "Draco Malfoy, on order of his head of house, barricaded himself, as well as several other of his house mates, in the Slytherin common room. As best we can figure, at approximately the same time as the Ministry was subduing the last few Death Eaters on the school grounds, someone Floo'ed into the Slytherin common room. This person collected young Mr. Malfoy and left Hogwarts by the same method. The description we have isn't a good one, but it appears that this person was robed in black and carrying someone. Someone unconscious."

Harry furrowed his brow in thought, until the seemingly unrelated facts came together. "Malfoy," he spat, leaping to his feet with wand in hand. "I'll kill him."

Lupin intercepted him on his way to the door. "Harry, please, this won't help."

"Let go of me!"

Lupin's face was sympathetic, but he maintained his hold. "So you can do what?"

"Get Hermione, of course!"

"And where will you go get her?" Harry's struggles grew weaker, and then stopped.

"Malfoy Manor," he said, though his words lacked the irate strength of moments before.

Lupin let him go, and patted his shoulder in an attempt at comfort. "If you know something we don't, feel free to tell us, Harry. Like the location of Malfoy Manor, or maybe the guarantee that she's truly there and not some other hideaway."

Mundungus looked up from his examination of some of Dumbledore's more curious possessions. "I warned you that he shouldn't be told."

"Nonsense," Professor McGonagall said sharply. "He's one of her best friends. I wasn't going to leave him to wander the hallways, wondering what had become of her."

"Better than trying to keep 'im from bounding off to God-knows-where."

"While both of you have good points," Dumbledore interrupted smoothly, "I believe it is now a moot issue. Harry, we would all like nothing more than to fetch Miss Granger back this instant. As Remus has pointed out to you, however, circumstances are a bit more complicated than that. The good news is that we have contacted the Minister, and she has taken a personal hand in matters. Malfoy Manor has been placed under surveillance; the moment they can confirm that either Malfoy is present, they will move in."

"I want you there," Harry said immediately, and was treated to the sight of Dumbledore being completely flabbergasted.

"You're the best," Harry explained. "If she's alive, they'll kill her if they think the Ministry is watching. They might kill her anyway if the Ministry doesn't move fast enough. I want you there."

"That's perfectly understandable, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said, "but we've no reason to think that the Death Eaters still at large won't stage another attack on Hogwarts. Some of our best students were killed, and many are injured. The headmaster cannot leave Hogwarts undefended."

"But Harry has an excellent argument, and neither can I sacrifice the welfare of one student known to be in danger to protect many students who may be in danger." Professor Dumbledore looked at McGonagall. "That's why you should go, Minerva. If you wish to, of course."

The professor sputtered. "Naturally I wish to, Albus, but... are you sure the Ministry won't object? That I will be necessary?"

"I think it's a brilliant idea," Harry said. "And the Ministry doesn't need to know you're there."

Dumbledore smiled.