The howling wind whipped mercilessly across the Hogwarts grounds, carrying the muffled, anguished cries that echoed hauntingly through the moonlit night. Just beyond the castle walls, the Headmaster's still, lifeless body lay. I swallowed back the bile rising in my throat, my gaze drawn inexorably to the Dark Mark twisting and writhing in the clouds above.
As I scanned the sombre crowd, my heart shattered at the sight of my fellow students. Their faces were pale and drawn, tears streaming down the ashen cheeks of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs alike. Ron's normally vibrant eyes shone with anguish, while Ginny's expression was a mask of pure terror. Nearby, Professor McGonagall stood, her usual air of unwavering authority replaced by a deep, overwhelming sorrow that settled like a heavy weight upon her shoulders. Professor Slughorn, Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout murmured softly to one another, their devastated expressions mirroring the grief that had enveloped us all.
Before I could gather my thoughts, I saw Harry collapse to the ground, unconscious and vulnerable. Panic surged through me—a desperate urge to reach him, to shield him. But my legs felt heavy, rooted to the spot.
"Harry!" I cried out, unable to bear the sight of him—weak, powerless, and tormented by You-Know-Who. My heart raced as I watched him being brutalised, the gleeful laughter of our enemy echoing in my ears. How did it come to this?
I watched in horror as a masked and sinister Death Eater levitated Harry's limp, unconscious form through the grand oak doors leading to the Entrance Hall with the menacing presence of You-Know-Who close behind. This devastating sight shattered the very sanctuary I had always believed Hogwarts to embody.
The tormented look on Harry's face cut me to the core. Though I had been utterly powerless to aid him, I was now being shoved along by another sneering Death Eater, forced back to my House as if I were no more than a lowly servant.
The Death Eater's icy whisper, a venomous hiss of "Keep moving, Mudblood!", sent tremors of dread rippling down my spine. I had never fathomed such cruel, hateful words could cut into my very soul like jagged shards of ice. Behind me, the hushed, fearful voices of my friends reached my ears, their words thick with trepidation and uncertainty, as we were herded away from the scene.
"Where are they taking Harry?" Ron asked, his usually steady tone laced with concern.
Ginny's voice quivered with worry as she chimed in, "Are they going to hurt him even more?"
I had long marvelled at Harry's unyielding bravery and his steadfast refusal to back down from the Death Eaters and You-Know-Who, no matter how daunting the challenge. Yet now, a tangible gulf seemed to be opening up between us, filling me with a profound sense of unease. I had always believed our bond of friendship was unbreakable, that we could weather any storm side by side, but now a crushing sense of our connection being irrevocably severed weighed heavily upon me.
As I staggered down the frigid, stone corridor, the pounding of my own heart drowned out all other sounds, each thunderous beat a grim reminder of the unspeakable horror I had just witnessed. The faint, flickering torchlight cast an eerie, shifting play of shadows upon the walls, which seemed to close in around me like a suffocating shroud of despair. I could not escape the haunting image of Professor Dumbledore's lifeless form, untouched by the passage of time yet irretrievably lost to us forever.
The hooded Death Eater at the front of the group turned to glare menacingly at us, and I quickly averted my gaze, my heart pounding rapidly in my chest. I knew I had to stay focused and keep my mind sharp, no matter how much uncertainty raged within me. They herded us towards our respective House common rooms, but inside, I was a swirling tempest of confusion, grief, and simmering anger. How could they expect us to simply carry on as if nothing had happened when Professor Dumbledore's lifeless body still lay behind us? I struggled to comprehend this cruel new reality we now faced.
We were abruptly thrust into the familiar confines of Gryffindor Tower. The silent portraits hung ominously on the walls, their eyes watching the Death Eater with fearful trepidation. The common room buzzed with hushed, anxious voices, but I sought refuge in a quiet corner, desperately trying to block out the overwhelming scene that swirled around me. Yet even in solitude, I was haunted by torturous visions—Professor Dumbledore's lifeless body drifting helplessly away from us, the horrifying thought of the Death Eaters tossing him into the depths of the Black Lake or making a cruel mockery of him. The very idea sent a wave of nausea churning in the pit of my stomach.
And Harry, the very thought of him being tortured and taken by You-Know-Who with no information as to where in the castle they had taken him, made me fear for the worst. Just hours ago, when Harry had left to meet with Professor Dumbledore, and a few of us had taken the remaining Felix Felicis to fight off the Death Eaters who had infiltrated Hogwarts, everything was going smoothly—perfectly.
But now, what has gone wrong?
"Dumbledore won't be here tonight, so Malfoy's going to have another clear shot at whatever he's up to." Harry's words echoed in my mind, but I hadn't a clue what he was talking about.
Harry was unrelenting in his conviction; he suspected Malfoy was up to something sinister and that without Dumbledore around to interfere, his plan might just come to fruition. I'd brushed off Harry's fears initially. After all, it wasn't uncommon for him to suspect Malfoy of every mischief. Still, unease settled within me.
Now we were in this mess.
Neville lay on the sofa in the Gryffindor common room, his body convulsing in pain. Blood matted his chest, dripping onto the red upholstery. The cries that escaped his lips echoed in my mind.
I knelt beside him, my fingers trembling as I hovered over the terrible wounds adorning his pale skin. My mind raced—he needed help, and he needed it fast. "Stay with us, Neville," I choked out, trying to sound more composed than I felt.
Around us, a small group of Gryffindors had gathered, their faces painted with equal parts fear and determination. Ron was near the fireplace, his hands balled into fists, while Ginny stood just behind me, her usual bravado extinguished in the face of this nightmare. Even the normally irritable Seamus had gone pale and quiet.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward. "He needs medical attention!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the silence like a whip. She barely hid her desperation as she glanced towards the Death Eater who blocked the portrait hole.
"You're a professor, aren't you?" The Death Eater sneered, contempt dripping from her voice. "Why don't you heal him yourself? I'm sure you have knowledge of how to mend minor cuts."
Her sarcastic tone fuelled my indignation. "Minor?" I snapped, my voice barely rising above a whisper. "That's anything but minor!"
I stepped forward, still unsure of what I could do. My heart raced, thumping wildly against my ribcage, but I was determined to help.
"Stupefy!" Professor McGonagall hissed, her wand firing off the spell before anyone could intervene. The Death Eater grunted in surprise, but she was swift, deflecting her attack with a wave of her wand. The spell ricocheted, hitting a nearby trophy shelf and shattering the glass.
"Is that the best you can do?" She taunted, grinning maliciously. "You professors are all so predictable!"
"Enough of this!" Professor McGonagall's eyes blazed with fury, but before she could raise her wand again, the other Death Eater struck.
BANG!
The sound rang out, harsh and jarring. Professor McGonagall fell, her elegant figure crumpling to the floor. A scream ripped from my throat before I could stop myself. "Professor!" I yelled, heart racing as I scrambled towards her.
"What the bloody hell is going on here, Alecto?" The other Death Eater asked, his voice smooth yet menacing.
"That old besom started attacking me because she wanted that little whelp sent to the Hospital Wing!" Alecto replied in fury, shooting daggers in Neville's direction.
The other Death Eater shifted his gaze to Neville, irritation written across his features. "I see no reason for him to go to the Hospital Wing. He'll be fine."
I could hardly contain my outrage at this callous response. How could they be so heartless, so cruel?
"You bloody idiots!" Ron shouted, stepping forward, fists clenched, his fiery red hair ablaze with a passionate rage.
"You will send him to the Hospital Wing!" Professor McGonagall interrupted. She weakly pushed herself off the ground without breaking eye contact with the Death Eater.
The Death Eater moved forward until he was offensively close to Professor McGonagall, his face within inches of hers. "We're in charge here now, and I say no."
"You must!" I exclaimed, my voice shaking with emotion. "Or else he'll die!" But the Death Eater didn't budge. I felt a lump form in my throat as I looked around the room.
Suddenly, a figure appeared in the doorway, his robes billowing behind him. It was Professor Snape. I felt a shiver run down my spine as I looked at him, unsure of what his intentions might be.
"That's enough, Amycus," Professor Snape said, his voice low and dangerous, slicing sharply through the buzz of murmurs that wrapped around us. "You will take Mr. Longbottom to the Hospital Wing, and you will leave Professor McGonagall unharmed." His tone was one of command—one I had never heard directed at anyone but students.
"Who're you to order us—" Amycus started, venom dripping from the edges of his words. But before he could continue his defiance, Snape cut him off with a glare that silenced even the most rebellious.
"Both you and your sister are being summoned by the Dark Lord," Professor Snape said curtly.
Amycus hesitated for a brief moment, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. At last, he nodded, pulling Alecto with him as they exited, vanishing into the portrait hole with Neville in tow, leaving us alone with Professor Snape. But he didn't linger; instead, he left as soon as they departed the common room.
The room fell silent as the Gryffindors apprehensively shared glances as if clinging to straws of hope. Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and stepped forward.
"You will not, under any circumstances, leave the Gryffindor Tower," she announced, her authoritative voice cutting through our tension. "As you all know and have seen with your own eyes, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is here at Hogwarts. Whatever you do, you must not leave this place. It will keep you all safe… for the meantime."
A wave of mutinous muttering crashed against her words.
"But Professor, we're not safe here!" A voice squeaked from the back.
"Death Eaters are at Hogwarts! We must fight!" another voice chimed in.
"Harry Potter's out there with You-Know-Who!" someone else cried.
"Please, send us home!" a plaintive plea resonated against the stone walls.
"I understand that you are all scared," Professor McGonagall said. "But Hogwarts has been infiltrated, and we are under the rule of You-Know-Who. We still do not know what his plans are. We must tread carefully. His followers do not take things lightly. They will kill for anything, even for entertainment purposes." Her gaze darted from face to face, meeting our wide, frightened eyes.
It pained me to witness the hope on my peers' faces evaporate with each damning word. Some started sobbing while the others stared around the room with fearful eyes.
Suddenly, Professor McGonagall strode towards the windows. With a wave of her wand, she conjured a Patronus—a brilliant silver cat—its features crisp and shimmering. It pranced around her, imbued with an energy that felt alive. I marvelled at the sight. I've read stacks of books about Patronuses, fascinated when Harry first cast his in our third year.
The feline creature circled her, purring gently before Professor McGonagall began muttering words I couldn't quite hear. The atmosphere thickened with anticipation. And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, it leapt from the tall window and vanished into the night. I knew Professor McGonagall had used her patronus to send messages to the Order. I glanced over at Ron and Ginny, and I had an inkling that they had the same idea when they gave me a knowing look.
"Are you leaving, Professor?" Seamus asked.
I whipped my head toward the professor, watching closely as she paused by the portrait hole. "I have a duty to fulfil, Mr. Finnigan. I must ensure the safety of the other Houses," she replied, her voice steady, yet laden with an undertone of weariness.
"But you just told us not to leave the tower because it's not safe!" Seamus protested.
"I did instruct you all to stay here, but as a professor and the deputy headmistress of this school, my obligations grow beyond these walls. There are things that need to be done." Her reply was curt, leaving no room for further debate. Before Seamus could argue or enquire further, she departed, her robes flaring slightly before disappearing through the portrait hole.
Just like that, a void settled in the common room. I looked at Ron and Ginny, their expressions mirroring mine—worry.
"What do you think she has to do?" Ginny finally asked, breaking the silence, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I don't know," I admitted. "But whatever it is, it isn't simple." I leaned forward, the flickering firelight casting shadows across my face. "We need to be prepared. If things are escalating, we might have to make tough choices ourselves."
Amidst my uncertainty, another thought stirred. "Do you remember what Harry said about the Patronus?" I prompted, my curiosity momentarily distracting me from dread.
"Yeah," Ron shrugged. "It's supposed to ward off Dementors with a happy memory or something, right?"
"Exactly! But it's more than that," I pressed. "It's a message, a connection... Professor McGonagall's reaching out to others, to the Order. If it were a simple message, she wouldn't have to use a Patronus."
A thick silence enveloped us once more. We were helpless here, but doing nothing was unbearable. I shot a glance at Ron, who seemed to be wrestling with his own thoughts.
"We have to follow her," I said suddenly; a decision sparked within me. "We need to know what's going on."
"Are you daft?" Ron exclaimed, his voice incredulous. "What if there are Death Eaters? We'd only end up in trouble."
"Harry's out there, Ron! We can't just sit here, leaving his fate in You-Know-Who's hands. We've fought before, haven't we?" My heart raced, adrenaline coursing through me.
"But this is different," Ginny interjected. "You-Know-Who is in the castle."
"And we don't know where he's keeping Harry. He'll be hard to find for sure," Ron countered, concern overshadowing his bravado.
"But what if we can help?" I insisted, readying myself to set the plan into motion. "I can't just wait for someone to come and tell us what's happening. If we stick together, we might be able to figure things out."
Ron wrestled with his apprehensions, but in his eyes, I saw a glimmer of understanding. Slowly, he nodded, a hint of resolve brewing. "Let's do it, then. But we'll need the Marauder's Map and the invisibility cloak. I think we left the map in my bed."
We silently hurried off to the boys' dormitory until we reached Ron's messy bed. No one was there except us.
"Oh no!" I said suddenly, the urgency of the situation hitting me like a dazzling lightning strike. Ron and Ginny paused, their faces mirroring my sudden wave of panic.
"What?" Ron asked, his brow furrowing.
"Harry's got the cloak when he left to meet with Professor Dumbledore, remember? He was telling us everything about what's to happen in case Malfoy does something stupid, the Room of Requirement, Snape helping Malfoy… and what we have to do."
Ron's eyes darted in thought, his freckled face paling. "But where do you think the cloak is? Harry didn't have it when he was with us in the courtyard."
Silence fell between us for a moment.
"Wait," Ginny interjected, her eyes brightening with revelation. "We were all fighting off the Death Eaters in the corridor underneath the Astronomy Tower. That was where I last saw Harry! Maybe the cloak is there somewhere."
"Okay," said Ron, rubbing his chin in contemplation. "So we just need to go there and hope for Merlin that none of the Death Eaters are around at this hour." A thoughtful expression settled on his face. "Have we got any more of that Felix Felicis potion?"
I shook my head sharply. "Didn't we consume the rest of it when Harry gave it to us?"
"Wait, I think I still have the vial!" Ginny exclaimed, rummaging through her pockets. Her fingers finally clasped around something, and moments later, she revealed a small vial, glistening with a few precious drops of the golden liquid. "Here—there's probably a couple of drops left, though I don't believe it'll be enough to get one of us through the night."
I reached forward, swallowing hard. "I'll take it," I said. With trembling fingers, I tipped the vial, allowing the enchanting potion to slip past my lips. An exhilarating warmth coursed through me, setting my senses alight.
"Dobby!" I shouted, a newfound confidence bursting forth as I called for the elf.
"What?" Said Ron and Ginny together, looking aghast.
"No, Hermione. We have to go to the Astronomy Tower, remember?" Ginny insisted, her voice tinged with alarm.
I scarcely had a chance to respond before the familiar crack of a house-elf materialising filled the air, and there he was: Dobby. His enormous eyes blinked at me, confusion evident, but hope flickered beneath the surface.
"Harry Potter's friend has called for Dobby, miss!"
"Yes, Dobby. We need your help," I implored, my heart racing with urgency.
Dobby's demeanour shifted. His serious expression suggested he understood the weight of the moment. "Is it about Harry Potter, miss? Dobby can tell that his friends are missing Harry Potter."
"Do you know anything, Dobby?" Ron asked, his curiosity piqued, though worry clung to his tone. "Have you got any news of where he is?"
Dobby hesitated, a deep shadow settling over his face. "Dobby—Dobby knows, sir. Dobby could tell where Harry Potter is, sir."
"Where is he, Dobby?" Ginny pressed, her voice tense. "Is he alright?"
Tears glimmered in Dobby's big eyes, and he dabbed them with the corner of his horseshoe-patterned tie. "Ah, miss," he gasped, his voice trembling, "Harry Potter lay unconscious in the house of the serpents."
"W-what?" Ron stammered, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. "Harry's in Slytherin? Why did they bring him there?"
Dobby made a strange choking noise and began banging his head against the bedpost, causing me to recoil in shock. "No, Dobby! Please don't do that!" I exclaimed, rushing forward. "Tell us how we can help him!"
Dobby stopped suddenly, clasping his hands together and looking up at me with a mixture of shame and sincerity. "Harry Potter is in danger, miss. Those of Slytherin are not kind to him. Dobby could hear them talking. They plot a terrible thing, miss, and Dobby wants to help, but Dobby fears, oh how Dobby fears."
"What are they planning to do to him?" Ron asked at once, his brow knitting together in distress. My stomach twisted with a potent mix of worry and frustration as Ron's words pierced my anxious thoughts.
Dobby's big, frightened eyes glistened with tears once again, and his small frame trembled visibly. Suddenly, he burst into tears—very noisy tears—that echoed through the dormitory.
"What is it, Dobby?" I pressed, desperation creeping into my voice. "What terrible thing do you mean?"
But Dobby soon became inconsolable. He hugged his knees, whispering incoherently to himself, lost in emotions. In that moment, my heart sank further, realising that whatever he knew was too awful to speak of. Ron looked at Ginny and me, a sense of helplessness imminent upon his face.
"Dobby, if you can't tell us, will you help us with something instead?" Ginny's question hung in the air, tentative but filled with hope.
Dobby wiped his eyes one last time, his small fists clenching the fabric of his tie. "Dobby will do anything for Harry Potter's friends, miss," he said fiercely, determination glimmering through his tears.
"Would you be able to find Harry's Invisibility Cloak for us?" Ginny asked, her voice taking on a note of urgency. "We think it's somewhere in the Astronomy Tower."
My mind raced. If we had the Invisibility Cloak, we could sneak around the castle, search for Harry, and perhaps unravel whatever they were plotting against him. Dobby nodded vigorously, his ears flapping as he made the decision.
"Dobby will do it, miss!" he exclaimed bravely.
"Be very careful, Dobby," I cautioned, my heart pounding like a drum against my ribcage. "I believe Death Eaters are everywhere in the castle."
As Dobby disappeared with a crack, the silence fell heavy around us once more. Ron ran a hand through his hair, the worry etched onto his forehead now a permanent feature. "What if they catch him?" he whispered, his voice trembling slightly.
I smoothed down my clothes, trying to think positively. "Dobby is clever. He will be careful." But deep down, I couldn't shake the growing sense of dread.
"What do you think is the terrible plot Dobby mentioned?" Ginny's voice echoed in the room, pulling me back from my dark thoughts. I glanced over at her, the flicker of confusion in her wide brown eyes matching my own unease.
Ron bowed his head, and I blinked anxiously at Ginny.
"Well, aside from using the Cruciatus curse on Harry, there's a possibility that they'll make fun of him by controlling him with the use of the Imperius curse," I said, attempting to project a calm demeanour, though sadness tinged my voice. "But You-Know-Who probably has other unimaginably cruel ideas."
Ginny bit her lip.
"Wait a minute," Ron interjected, his eyes widening as he turned to face us. "Is it just me, or did Harry's belongings completely vanish?"
It was a shocking realisation. I followed his gaze to Harry's bed, half expecting to see his ever-dishevelled blanket strewn across the mattress, perhaps with his books perched on the bedside table. But no—his trunk was gone, Hedwig's cage was nowhere in sight, and Harry's Firebolt was missing, too. A chill settled over me.
"Since when?" I asked.
"I dunno," replied Ron. "We all just got back here."
"Dobby did mention that Harry's lying unconscious in Slytherin," Ginny remarked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you think they're keeping him and his things down there?"
"Possibly," I replied, but my mind raced with questions. Why would they do that? In the depths of my thoughts, panic began to take root. Slytherin was ancient ground, technically a part of Hogwarts yet so distinctly separate. It was a place where none of us, especially Harry, should ever find ourselves.
"Well," said Ron. "It's You-Know-Who's house for one thing, and no one in there is stupid enough to defy him in whatever he wants to do, is it? It's a perfect place to keep Harry."
He spoke those words with a grim finality that struck an icy chord in my chest. I swallowed hard and shifted uncomfortably.
"You and Harry had gone to Slytherin before," I recalled, my mind reluctantly conjuring memories from our second year. The uncertainty of that time flashed through my eyes—the dreadful secret of the Chamber of Secrets and the horrifying visage of a basilisk. "The Polyjuice Potion that we had to take and make Malfoy think you were both Crabbe and Goyle… remember?"
"What?" Ginny asked incredulously.
"Yeah, that was scary. We only just saw their common room, but I wish we had gone and had a look at their boys' dormitory."
"What the hell were you and Harry doing in there?" Ginny's incredulity morphed into feigned outrage. "That's breaking a lot of school rules!"
Ron's face flushed a shade of crimson. "We had to figure out who the bloody Slytherin's heir was!" he retorted defensively. "But you don't need to worry about that now. There's nothing special in that place anyway. Just a bunch of green and stone walls; it's quite dreary, actually."
My heart sank further. It was true; I'd heard the Slytherin common room had always felt more stifling than comforting; it consumed all light and warmth. But now, that cold stone should have been comforting, as it was the place protecting Harry. Or the prison imprisoning him. "Well, Harry's stuck there now," I murmured, my voice imbued with dread. "He can't stay there, Ron. Not again."
Ron's eyes narrowed, and the familiar stubbornness flickered in his expression. "And what do you suggest?" he challenged. "We just waltz in there? You-Know-Who wouldn't let that happen."
"Maybe we need a disguise," I proposed carefully, trying to leave no corner of the plan unconsidered. "If we can manage the Polyjuice Potion again, we could slip into Slytherin, perhaps even gain some information."
"Polyjuice! But it takes weeks to brew," Ron grimaced, his mind racing to contain amber doubts.
"Not if we have the right ingredients," I replied. "I'll be honest; I have some left from last year buried in my trunk, and with enough preparation, we could concoct a basic version that could help us. And Ginny has been working on her potion skills, hasn't she?"
"Sure," Ginny replied, though I could sense her uncertainty. "But is it really going to be that easy? Last time, I got caught by Umbridge. We all did at some point."
"And even if we did get inside Slytherin, what would we do then?" Ron asked, his voice trembling with apprehension. "We'll be surrounded by Death Eaters and Slytherins who'll show no mercy if we ever get caught, and not to mention You-Know-Who. Who knows what he'll do to us?"
It was a valid point, one I had wrestled with as I turned over the idea in my mind. Desperation ignited a recklessness within me as I struggled to fathom the scale of the danger Harry was in.
"It's just a thought," I said defensively, gripping Ron's bedpost. "I'm just scared of what Harry's going through right now, aren't you?"
"Believe me, I am, Hermione," Ron said, his blue eyes clouded with concern. "But you have to remember Dumbledore's dead. We only have the Order to back us up, and they're not here, so going into Slytherin is suicide."
Silence followed his words. I found myself struggling to breathe.
"Let's not forget Dobby," Ginny piped up, a spark of determination igniting in her brown eyes. "I bet he knows the ins and outs of Hogwarts more than anyone. He can help us."
Ron nodded, hesitance breaking slightly at the mention of the loyal house-elf. "Yeah, he can be our spy."
The image of Dobby's quirky features flooded my mind—his oversized ears, his eyes wide with earnestness. I nodded slowly. "Dobby could indeed help us."
"What's that on the floor?" Ron asked suddenly, gesturing with his chin toward a crumpled piece of parchment that lay ominously between Ginny's feet. I watched as Ginny's brow furrowed in confusion.
Ginny picked it up, her expression shifting as she recognised it. "This must be the paper I took from Harry when he collapsed," she said. "It fell from his hand along with something else."
She reached into her pocket and withdrew a locket, the metal glinting ominously. "It looks important," she murmured, holding it up for us to see.
"What's that?" Ron asked eagerly, stepping closer, his eyes wide with curiosity.
"Some sort of jewellery," Ginny replied, her voice barely masking the tension in her words as she began to uncrumple the parchment. "It's talking about a certain Horcrux," she said at last after reading, her gaze piercing through the room as if searching for answers hidden beyond the walls.
I gasped. "Let me see it," I urged, reaching out for the paper. The very mention of a Horcrux sent shivers down my spine. It was a dark word best left forgotten. I smoothed the parchment cautiously; my eyes raced across the faded lettering.
"R.A.B.?" Ron questioned, his voice thoughtful, as if the initials hinted at an age-old mystery.
"What's a Horcrux?" Ginny asked.
"Shh!" I hushed her sharply, instinctively glancing around to ensure no one could overhear our conversation. "We can't mention that here."
Ginny's eyes widened, reflecting a mixture of alarm and confusion. "Why?"
My heart raced, knowing the burden of knowledge I carried. "It's just something Harry and Professor Dumbledore have been keeping secret," I whispered, glancing about to ensure we were still alone. "It's already past midnight. People will start pouring in here. I'll tell you all about it later, Ginny, but no one must know."
Ginny nodded reluctantly, but the look in her eyes told me she wouldn't forget.
The silvery light of the moon streamed through the heavy curtains, casting soft shadows across the room. I settled back onto my bed, staring up at the wooden beams of the ceiling, counting the imperfections in the plaster as if that would distract me. But the image would not leave my mind—Harry, bound and helpless, his eyes pleading for rescue. I turned once more, desperate for sleep, but the image met me again.
Hours already had passed since my last conversation with Ron and Ginny. We were all reluctant to go to bed; none in Gryffindor did. I could hear Lavender and Parvati still awake and talking in whispers. I mean, how could we sleep after all that had happened today?
Who would dare sleep?
Perhaps only Slytherins. They'd be sleeping peacefully, unburdened by our loss.
Had I been braver, perhaps we could have confronted the Death Eaters earlier. Perhaps we could have spilt our plans in the Gryffindor common room and rallied everyone to take action instead of waiting. If Harry only knew how deeply we cared and how hard we would fight to bring him back.
I sighed, letting my head fall back onto my pillow. The thought of Dumbledore's death weighed even heavier. Now, with him gone, the castle felt colder.
Where was Professor Dumbledore's body now? Did someone bury him? Or did the Death Eaters—
No. I couldn't think about it. I wouldn't.
After what felt like hours, I finally stood up, heart racing, and made my way to the window. My fingers coiled around the cool stone of the sill. Hogwarts still looked magnificent, like nothing tragic and dangerous had happened.
I released a deep sigh. I wish I could see the Slytherin House from up here. I could feel Harry's presence so close to us, yet so many barriers were in our way.
Dawn was slowly approaching, and we still haven't heard from Dobby. We sent him into danger, and guilt was taking over me hard.
I made my way down the stairs to the common room; it was empty, with only the dying embers in the fireplace crackling softly, reminding me of the countless evenings spent here with Harry and Ron, plotting and laughing, letting the worries of the world slip away, if only for a moment.
As I prepared to sink into the comfort of one of the worn armchairs, a flicker of movement caught my eye. I turned, my heart leaping, and saw him. It was Dobby, his large, expressive eyes shimmering like emeralds against his mismatched clothing. He held something delicate in his hands—a folded cloth catching just the hint of dawn's light.
"Dobby," I breathed, relief flooding through me. "You're back!"
"Dobby has come to deliver the cloak, miss," he chimed softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "It was indeed at the top of the Astronomy Tower. And then… Dobby found this, miss." He slowly pulled a wand from his pocket. "Dobby thinks it belonged to Harry Potter, miss."
My fingers tingled with anticipation as I reached out to take the Invisibility Cloak and the wand from him. It felt like Hogwarts's last line of defence against You-Know-Who.
"But how did you know it was his?"
"Dobby has seen Harry Potter's wand many times before, miss."
I sighed with relief. "Are you okay?" I asked right away, my eyes scanning Dobby for any sign of harm. "Are you hurt at all?"
"Harry Potter's friend is kind, but Dobby is fine, miss," he reassured me, but a tremor traced through his voice. "Dobby never encountered anyone in the tower, for Dobby knows how to be discreet."
Apprehension gripped my chest. I had a sinking feeling that the story was not over yet. "But did anything else happen?" I pressed, my voice rising slightly. "It's just that you came back just now, and I thought something horrible had happened to you."
Dobby's eyes welled with tears, and he swallowed hard, his small body trembling. "It has happened, miss," he croaked, and with those words, he sent a bolt of ice through my heart.
"What happened?" I gasped, dread coiling in my stomach. The image of Harry's face swam through my mind once again. "Dobby, did something happen to Harry?"
"H—he…" Dobby wailed, and before I could process his meaning, the tear-filled gulf of his eyes was enough to send the world around me spinning. "He is not well, miss. He had done it."
A shudder rippled through me. My mind raced with the implications of his words. "What do you mean, 'he's not well'? Who had done what?"
"He-Who—"
But our conversation was interrupted when Gryffindors started waking up and coming down to the common room.
"I'm sorry, miss," Dobby said, his voice drenched in worry, just before vanishing as abruptly as he had come.
Minutes later, Ron stomped down the stairs. He didn't seem to have slept at all by the way he looked. His wild hair was more dishevelled than usual, and his eyes were clouds of fatigue, yet they flickered with concern when he spotted me. "Hermione? What's up with you? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"There's no time for jokes, Ron," I snapped, my voice sharper than intended. Sometimes I wondered how my emotions could churn so violently under pressure. "It's Harry. Something happened to him."
"What?" His exhausted demeanour vanished, replaced by a sharpness in his gaze. "What do you mean? Is he okay?"
I took a deep breath. "Dobby came back with the Invisibility Cloak and Harry's wand, but there's more. I think he checked on Harry and saw something. You know Dobby; he was always having a hard time saying what he saw, but he said, Harry's not well, and someone had done something… to him, I think."
The vulnerability in Ron's expression was undeniable, his stooped shoulders straightening as the urgency of the moment hit him. "What does that mean?"
"I don't know, Ron." The frustration boiled within me, dark and alive. "But the way Dobby cried, it made me feel like something worse had come to pass."