Hermione woke up early that morning when the first sunlight shone through the windows and danced on her eyelids. She got out of bed and soon she was sitting at the kitchen table, across from her parents.

“So, Hermione,” Mrs. Granger said, “now that you’re home from your school, what are your plans for the summer? Dad and I decided you should have a thoroughly Muggal- did I say that right?”

Hermione said automatically, “It’s Muggle, Mummy.”
“Oh, yes, right. I mean a summer going on normal trips and things--”

“Mummy, don’t you think I’m normal most of the time?” asked Hermione, hurt.

“Well, honey,” her mother looked a bit uncomfortable, “your dad and I feel, while we are proud about how well you're doing in school, it’s time for you to have a little time to grow and develop into a normal person, without all that stuff you're busy with all year.”

“Indeed, Hermione, we’ve been missing you. When you didn’t come with us on that skiing trip last winter, well, we decided to have a good talk with you when you came home for the summer,” her dad added.

Hermione looked confused and felt a sudden chill of apprehension about where this was leading.

“But we’re not even allowed to use magic at home when we’re underage- what do you mean?”
Her parents looked at her severely.
“Hermione, someone with your intelligence should know exactly what we mean,” her mother said reprovingly.

Her father exclaimed,“Don’t tell me you don’t remember what happened on our trip to France last summer. We thought going away from home was all you needed- you’d spend some quality time with your family- but the whole time all you did was read huge history books on French wizards and stay locked in your hotel room for hours on end, writing essays! Don’t try to tell me your teachers assign that much summer homework. It’s not healthy, Hermione!”

Hermione looked stricken.

“Oh, I’m really sorry Mum and Dad; I didn’t realize you felt this way. But it’s really important to me to do well; you were the ones who raised me to do my best, after all.”

“Yes, Hermione,” said her dad, “but enough is enough! It’s time for you to take a break from schoolwork and do other equally important things. You can finish your schoolwork next month, all right? We know it’s important to you, we really do. Now, we want you to make new friends--”

“But Dad,” Hermione protested, “there aren’t any other witches or wizards living around here-”

“Well then,” scolded her father, “practice your tolerance for ordinary people like us and meet a few Mugguguls for a change!”

Hermione sputtered, “But-”

“No,” her mother interrupted firmly, “no more arguing, Hermione. We’ve decided. You can spend three mornings a week helping us out at the office. You always enjoyed that when you were young, before your Hogwarts letter came. On our day off, we’ll all go on a trip as a family. The rest of the time, we expect you to do some real unwinding, socializing, and stretching your relaxing muscles. Oh- by the way, Hermione, to make sure you don’t spend the whole time reading, we’re going to have to lock your schoolbooks away in a closet- and we want you to promise not to sneak off and open it without our permission. We really are tired of your behavior, Hermione dear.”

Flabbergasted, Hermione pushed her chair back her brain reeling in shock. She managed to get out, “But can't I visit my friends at the Burrow? Harry and Ron don’t let me read too much, and Ginny and I always have a great time hanging out- that’s socializing too, isn’t it?”

Her parents exchanged a glance, and her father spoke up again.

“We didn’t want to be unfair to you, so maybe at the end of the summer you can go off for a week or so. We don’t want you to feel like poor Harry Potter, living with those horrible Dursleys,” he winced and went on, “you know, they punish him all the time and lock him in the closet, and who knows what else? Yes, we don’t want you to do badly in school, so we’re allotting a time for you to take out your school things, and of course we will take you shopping when your supply list comes, unless you’re with your friends by then, of course.”

His voice changed to a softer, gentler tone. “Hermione, please try to be considerate and cheerful about all this, for our sakes. We love you- we want to spend some time with you, and we only want what’s best for you. I hope you understand how I’m feeling. I don’t want you to be upset, all right?”

Hermione poked at her scrambled eggs impatiently and burst out, “But I am normal. I’m perfectly happy with becoming a witch, why can’t you accept it? When did you start plotting against me?”

Once again, her parents glanced nervously and worriedly at each other.

“We hoped you’d understand how we feel about this a bit better, Hermione,” Hermione’s mother said, looking a bit upset, making Hermione feel guilty even through her anger and betrayal.

“Since at least last year, we considered bringing it up,” Hermione’s mother continued after a brief pause, “but when you missed skiing last winter to go study, well, that was kind of the last straw. We do want you to do well, Hermione, but that was just a little too extreme.”

Hermione just grimaced, thinking of the injustice of it all. She hadn’t even studied much that time, but if she told her parents the real reason she had left…No, she couldn’t, for the same reasons she hadn’t revealed it then. They knew Voldemort was back, but they didn’t- couldn’t- understand the full implications and enormity of his return. If they knew about Mr. Weasley getting injured, their worries on her behalf would only increase, anyway.

Hermione got up and cleared her place, the last traces of forced calm disappearing from her demeanor. “Well, I don’t suppose I have a choice, but, oh- for heaven’s sake! Why do you have to do this to me? You don’t understand what it means to me when you act this way!” she snapped.

Her mother started to say something, but Hermione couldn’t listen any longer and stormed upstairs to her room. She sank down on her bed in the corner, listening to her parent’s distant voices quietly murmuring.

“Well, let them talk about me!” said Hermione, louder than she had intended. A bitter lump deep in her throat threatened to rise up and choke her. At least it was only for two months or less even, and then she would be back to normal, at Hogwarts, she tried to comfort herself. Maybe Ron would rescue her in a flying car, as he had rescued Harry a few years ago, she thought, and soon lost herself in daydreams about the adventures the three of them had survived together over the years.

They had barely managed to survive the frantic battle for the prophecy orb about Harry and Voldemort, but it had broken anyway- at least the Death Eaters hadn’t got it. She had had to take tons of potion every day for weeks afterward, and she had only finished recently, although she still got short of breath very easily, Madam Pomfrey had assured her the effects would wear off soon. Harry had seemed so distant those last few days at Hogwarts- what secret was he hiding from her, and probably Ron too?

The phone rang, jarring her from her thoughts. She automatically reached to pick it up, vaguely wondering who it might be.

“Hello, may I speak with the young Miss Granger, please?” a deep, rough, voice asked quietly. It sounded slightly familiar to Hermione, although she didn’t know where she had heard it before. She answered,
“Yes, I’m here.”
Hermione heard a crackling sigh at the other end of the line.

“Miss Granger- I hope you don’t mind if I call you Hermione? I have an urgent message to give to you.”

“What is it?” Hermione asked, beginning to get curious. Who was this person, and where had she heard his voice before?
There was a funny bleating noise in the background before the stranger continued.

“Quiet!” he yelled hoarsely at something that was now making loud grunting and snuffling noises.

“Sorry, Miss Hermione, yes. So, the message is- actually, um… Let me find it…Get off…Oh, here we are. It says, 'Dear' - no, that’s something else. Oh, forget it, I’ll tell you from memory- it was pretty short, I hope I’ll get it right. Of course I will, though. I have an excellent memory! But I never give away a secret when I shouldn’t, if I do say so myself.”

He gave a wheezy chuckle and then abruptly cut short his mumbling monologue. In a much more businesslike voice, he said, “Hermione, please be at Diagon Alley tomorrow -you are very much needed, very important task for you. Please come alone to the table farthest to the left in front of Fortescue’s ice cream store at one o’clock, and you will receive further instructions. Don't be late.”

The stranger’s brisk tone suddenly relapsed into a hoarse mumble. “Yes, I think that was right. I think I did my job, now, Miss Hermione, see that you do yours.”

“All right,” said Hermione, “but-“

She heard a click. The call had ended, the mysterious caller apparently felt that once she heard the message and agreed, his job was done, and was not at all inclined to stay on the line and chat. She tried tracing the call through the operator, but as she had suspected even as she tried, it didn’t work.

She regretted not asking his name, but it was too late for that now, and he- yes, she was positive it was a man- probably he wouldn’t have answered anyway, judging by his secretive manner and his mention of how he can keep secrets when he wants to. He was definitely a wizard or a Squib, How else would he know about Diagon Alley? No, this was definitely wizarding business.

Hermione sat down on the chair by her desk and tried to think where she had heard that voice before, but she had no luck at that either. She realized she had to decide if she should go or not.

Voldemort was really back now, out in the open, and it might be a trap meant to appeal to her sense of curiosity, as Harry’s bravery and saving-people thing had lured them, at the end of school, when he had a vision of Sir- she forced herself not to think about that. Even though she no longer took all those horrible potions every day, it was still recent and painful. No- her real problem now was if she should go to Diagon Alley or not. Was the mysterious caller to be trusted? Hermione just wasn’t sure.

Suddenly she realized something that she had forgotten. “Oh no! Mom and Dad!” She collapsed onto her bed. What if her parents didn’t let her go to Diagon Alley? She didn’t want to trick them or anything, but what if this turned out to be important? Hermione realized that she really, really wanted to go.

She almost burst into tears of disappointment, but forced them down and sat up a little straighter. I have to go, she thought. Maybe someone needs my help, and that’s why I was called. She got up and went into the hallway.

It was a long ride to London. Hermione sat on the back seat, silently watching the view out of the window and occasionally glancing at the tense lines of her father’s shoulders, indicating his displeasure with what she was doing. Hermione winced, remembering the argument of yesterday. She had told them the truth about the phone call but had tried to make it sound as crucial and urgent as she could manage. Her mother didn’t seem to believe her, but Hermione told her that if she had wanted to go to London, there were many considerably more feasible reasons, like shopping for school or something. So why would she have claimed to have gotten a mysterious phone call unless it was true? Finally, her father agreed to take her, after she threatened to go whether they agreed or not, even if she had to hitchhike or catch a train. Now, as they began driving through the outskirts of London, Hermione’s angry feelings began to be replaced by apprehension and excitement. What would she find when she arrived at Diagon Alley? Her father coughed, breaking the silence.

“Hermione, which way do I turn here? I haven’t been there in a while, you know.” Hermione gave her father directions for the rest of the way, until her father parked a few buildings down from the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.

“Thanks, Dad,” she said quickly as she got out, turning to face him.
He gave her a quick nod and said quietly, “Good luck, sweetie. I hope you’ll be all right. Call me when you are done with whatever you need to do, and then we can go home.” He reached his arm out of the open car window and handed her a slip of paper with some numbers scribbled on it.

“This is where I’ll be- it’s our old cousin, Shirley Roberts, who we haven’t seen in ages, do you remember her? I wrote her telephone number and address on the paper, so hang on to it.”

“Okay, I have it,” Hermione affirmed as she slid the paper into her pocket. “See you later then, Dad.” She waved cheerfully and walked down to the Leaky Cauldron, hearing the car with her father in it pull away behind her. Hermione paused for an instant in front of the Leaky Cauldron, with one foot on the doorstep; then she shook her head briskly, as though to clear all other thoughts from it, and stepped inside the dark, dusky, crowded pub without looking back. Hermione heard the sounds of chatter from the people at the other tables, although the pub seemed a little more subdued than she remembered. After a quick wave to Tom, she entered Diagon Alley.

The familiar smells from the Apothecary greeted her nose, and down the street, she could see the store where she had purchased Crookshanks. Hermione smiled a bit as she pushed past a group of loudly gabbling older witches all holding bulky shopping bags, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they were sweeping through the street like a tidal wave, forcing everyone to either get out of their way or be bowled over. Hermione finally reached the ice cream store. She went in to order a strawberry ice cream from Fortescue; then went back outside, licking her fingers and enjoying the treat. She sat down, according to her instructions, at the table farthest to the left, which was up against a brick wall. Hermione chose a seat with her back to the wall so she could face the street and see who was coming. Looking at her watch, she realized there were still five more minutes, so she went back to enjoying the ice cream.

Five minutes later, she was savoring the last few bits when she felt a chill steal over her as though invisible eyes were watching her. A grubby-looking man caught the corner of her eye, and she turned her head slightly to watch him slip through the door of the ice cream store and begin talking quietly to Florean, shooting quick furtive glances over his shoulder as he spoke. Hermione was watching him so intently that a sudden tap on her shoulder took her completely by surprise. She twisted around to see a tall, thin man staring at her, standing in the narrow space between the back of her chair and the wall.

“I found you at last,” he whispered so quietly she could barely hear him. She opened her mouth to speak but he urgently signaled her to be silent. “Not a word, you hear me?” He looked up and down the street. Hermione nodded mutely, putting her hand in the pocket where she kept her wand just in case. The man motioned for her to follow him, and led the way into a tiny alleyway on the other side of the brick wall from where she had been sitting. He hurried along, running hard.

“Quickly!” he urged her. Hermione had a moment of indecision- should she resist, or go faster? After all, who was this stranger- but before she knew it, she was walking through the doorway of a grimy-looking building, which she hardly had time to get a glimpse of before they were both inside.

The man who had brought her said, “Here we are. Now it’s safe to talk, but extremely loud noises probably aren’t the best idea.” Before Hermione could do or say anything, he called, “Shannon! I’m here! With the Granger girl!” She heard footsteps over her head, and suddenly, with a loud popping sound, a woman appeared. Hermione stared at her, and that’s why she didn’t notice the flash of light coming from the man’s wand until it was too late to defend herself anymore. She felt herself slipping into unconsciousness.

Hermione woke up with a jolt. The woman was standing over her, wand outstretched.

“Oh good, you’re awake now. I’m sorry, Hermione, I always tell Albert he’s too enthusiastic. It took quite a strong spell to wake you up, let me tell you. Of course, I knew you aren’t a Death Eater, but all the same, Albert had to knock you out, so he could cast a spell to check. So, how’s your summer been so far?”

Before Hermione had a chance to say a word, the man interrupted with a mild Scottish accent, “An’ as I always say, you talk a bit too much, Shannon. But I haven’t introduced myself, have I? Pardon my manners, miss, I’m Albert Tanner. Have you any questions to ask me?”

“Yes, of course. Why am I here? What’s going on with all this secrecy and running through alleyways?”

“Oh Albert,” Shannon said flippantly, “What have you been doing to Hermione? I know we’re being watched, but that sounds like a bit much, doesn’t it?”

She flipped her long blonde hair over her shoulder. Hermione noticed that she was dressed in sequined black robes, the kind that was in style that summer. The woman continued, “I’m Shannon Crabtree, by the way. You haven’t met my sister, Alai, have you? She’s a second year at Hogwarts.” Hermione shook her head. “I didn’t expect you would have, but if you see her this year, tell her I say hello…no, enough chat. Albert?”

“We’ve brought you here for a reason, you see.” Albert Tanner ignored Shannon’s chatter. “Dumbledore wants you to know- wait. Did Harry Potter tell you about the prophecy?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, of course. But we don’t know what it said, since it smashed. I thought for a while about what it could be, but I really don’t know, and I doubt that unless anybody else knows, nobody will ever find out.”

“Well, I personally don’t know the details,” said Albert grimly, “but I happen to know that Harry knows the exact contents- you’ll have to wait till he tells you, but don’t let on that you know.”

A loud beeping sound interrupted him, coming from an object in the corner. It was a tall, black, empty hourglass, vibrating gently and letting out high-pitched beeps and whirrs. Albert Tanner looked alarmed. “Sorry, but this isn’t a safe discussion to have here. I need to tell you your assignment soon, but I can’t tell you anything here, not when my Eavatector is on alert. You’ll have to spend the night here, and I’ll try to locate a secured base of the Order where we can give you your instructions.”

“Oh, not another night in here!” Shannon rolled her eyes. “I’m starting to get sick of this place. Well, I have a spare room for you, Hermione. There are a few other people staying here too, so don’t get nervous if you hear them. You might want to read or something until dinner is ready.”

“Thanks. Do you have anything for me to read? I don’t have anything new with me.” Hermione stated, while staring hard at the empty hourglass and trying to figure out if she had heard of it before.

“I don’t have anything with me, either,” Albert said, “but Shannon always has a few books on Defense to carry around with her.”

“Oh, sure.” Shannon reached into a bright blue bag with a designer label sitting on the floor. “Let’s see, I have Hexing Heartbreakers, Revenge Charms for the Wronged, Latest Wizarding Fashions, what else is in here? Oh, why don’t you read this?” She handed Hermione a medium-sized red paperback. Hermione looked at the cover.

Out There Somewhere
By Shannon Crabtree


“You wrote this?” Hermione asked, surprised. “I think I remember seeing this on a shelf in Flourish and Blotts!”

“Aye, Shannon’s quite a good author, if I say so myself. You might enjoy her book- it’s on a subject I’ve heard you feel quite strongly about.” Albert winked at her.

Hermione stared at the book, her curiosity piqued. Shannon quickly changed the subject, blushing at the compliment from the usually reserved Albert.

“I’ll show you to your room, then, and supper should be in a few hours.” Shannon beckoned to Hermione to follow her out the door into a dark hallway Hermione hadn’t seen yet. They tiptoed upstairs into a dark room. Shannon flicked her wand at a small light bulb on the ceiling.

“Since you can’t use magic outside of school yet, you can pull the cord on the wall over there if you want to turn it off.” Shannon pointed to the wall, where a short string was dangling from a hole in the ceiling. There was a small teddy bear attached to it, a string clumsily twisted around its waist. Pushed up against the wall underneath was a chair that looked like it had been taken from a writing desk in the corner of the room.

Shannon noticed the teddy bear and laughed. “Looks like Theodore has been here- he’s a cousin of mine who was visiting me here some time ago. He loves teddy bears, but tends to lose some in unusual places wherever he goes. This is the fifth one I’ve found since he left. He’s only three, but he’s really cute. Maybe I’ll show you a picture of him later if you remind me.”

She paused for a second. “Is there anything I need to tell you? No, I think that’s all. Sorry I have to leave you alone like this, but I have a lot of work to do. If you need anything, go downstairs and find someone, but don’t shout or anything. All right then, see you by supper! Someone will tell you when it is.”

Shannon flipped her hair over her shoulder and left the room, closing the door with a quiet click.

Hermione stared curiously at the small volume in her hand. She turned it over to read the back cover. A picture of Shannon was placed at the top; her head turned to the side, and underneath was a short paragraph with the title About the Author. Hermione read the words below:



Shannon Crabtree, a well-known Auror in the British Ministry of Magic, lives in England in an assortment of cities. This is her first novel, and it has received top reviews from wizarding communities worldwide. She is a graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and spends her spare time playing the flute and keeping up with her favorite Quidditch team, the Holyhead Harpies, and brewing up potions. She also loves to take care of magical creatures. She can be contacted through an owl to her publishers at 42b Diagon Alley.




Hermione sat with her jaw hanging open. The talkative, fashion-conscious Shannon Crabtree was an Auror!
She opened the book and began to read.

The sun began fading down the horizon as Hermione turned the last page of the book. She had read all afternoon, oblivious to the occasional bangs and crashes coming from downstairs. Hermione grinned, remembering what Albert had said about how the topic would interest her. Her smile faded like the sunlight had as she wondered how he knew so much about her. Had he investigated her background like a Muggle secret agent, or was she simply famous without realizing it? Either way, he seemed to know how she always argued with Luna, and how she had walked out on Professor Trelawney a few years ago.

Hermione sat up straighter on the bed, letting her mind wander and go over what she had found in Shannon’s book. It was about wizarding legends and rumors, and it systematically brought evidence proving or disproving the existence of things such as Blibbering Humdingers, heliopaths, and other Quibbler-worthy items. It also dealt with the so-called Rotfang Conspiracy. (Shannon said on this topic, “I’m an Auror, and I can attest that both I and my colleagues have absolutely no interest in taking over the world with Dark magic and gum disease- or anything else, for that matter- and I still have no idea how this insane rumor started.”) Hermione had really enjoyed the topic, as well as the writing style. Now, blinking hard, she stood up and stretched, jumping as she heard the door open behind her.

Hermione turned her head to see who was there, but although the door was open a crack, there was no one else in the room. Hermione quietly stood up and tiptoed to the door. She opened the door wide, and found a person standing right in front of her. Startled, Hermione jumped slightly, feeling her heart skip a beat, and said nervously, “Who are you?”

The person, who was a girl probably around nineteen, answered her cheerfully.

“I’m Verity Stone. Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. I just didn’t want to burst in on you, so I just waited outside. I was coming to ask- are you ready for dinner?”

Hermione smiled and asked, “Sure, what’s on the menu?”

Verity didn’t know, but the two walked downstairs together and Verity led the way into an elegant, old-fashioned, dusty dining room. Hermione sat down next to Verity, and looked across the table to see who was sitting opposite her. A dour-faced, middle-aged man with thinning grey hair was staring toward the door and ignoring her and Verity except for a brief glance.

Looking around the table, Hermione saw there were many chairs, but only five had place settings besides her own. Albert was sitting on the opposite side, near the gloomy man but closer to the door. He mumbled a quiet hello to Hermione and Verity.

The door burst open and Shannon arrived, talking animatedly and waving her hands around to illustrate whatever point she was making. The woman she was talking to was an older adult, and carrying a tray with a covered pot and a glass pitcher on it. Shannon flung herself down in an empty seat, the woman sitting near her more sedately. Looking around the table, Shannon decided to introduce the diners to each other.

“Hello, good evening, everyone! This is Hermione Granger,” she announced, pointing to Hermione, then at the auburn-haired Verity, “this is Verity Stone, an old friend of mine actually, and here is Albert Tanner, whom you all know, I think, and this is Doran Langin-” that was the dour, solemn man, who mumbled something incomprehensible when his name was mentioned- “this is Miriam Strout, and of course, me, Shannon Crabtree,” she added as an afterthought, with a dramatic flourish.

Hermione looked at the kind-faced, motherly woman more carefully. Miriam Strout- she was a healer at St. Mungo’s! Hermione had met her in the Longbottom’s ward, and Broderick Bode’s! Right now, she was serving them all dinner. Hermione took a bite of the food on her plate, and smiled at Miriam. Shannon was whispering something furtively to Albert, and Verity and Doran were eating. Miriam, finished serving everyone, sat down in between Shannon and Hermione.

Hermione turned to Verity, who was sitting on her left.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.

Verity swallowed the mouthful of food she’d been chewing.
“Er, I’m staying here for a while, because- well, I’m starting my job in Diagon Alley, and I needed to stay near here, and since this is an Order-”

“Shhh!” Albert hissed, facing them from across the table. “It’s not secure right now, remember, so don’t say that name!”

Verity rolled her eyes. “So, as I was saying, I helped clean out this place so Albert could use it for a while as a secondary headquarters, but apparently it isn’t secure enough. We’ll probably have to return to London for a while, or go to Hogsmeade maybe.”

Hermione took another bite of food, and turned to Miriam.
“Didn’t I meet you last winter, at the ward in St. Mungo’s?” she asked curiously.

Miriam’s face darkened, and she covered it with her hands, letting out a small, painful sob.

Shannon patted her sympathetically on the shoulder.
“It’s all right, Miriam, she didn't know; she didn’t mean to remind you,” Shannon soothed.

“Sorry, Miriam, I didn’t mean- I didn’t know I was being inconsiderate. Are you all right?” Hermione said quickly, feeling bad about whatever she had done, but slightly confused. It had been a regular question, hadn’t it? She realized that she must have accidentally hit a sore spot. Almost as tactless as Ron, she thought, and then quickly focused back on Miriam, turning her mind away from thoughts of Ron.

Miriam lowered her hands, having composed herself, and smiled apologetically at Hermione.

“I’m fine, thanks. It’s quite all right, really, I know you have no idea of what’s happening. Things are- well, difficult- at work now. After what happened to Bode- you know about that, right?”

Hermione nodded, remembering the article in the Daily Prophet she had read about the mysterious murder of Broderick Bode, from the Department of Mysteries. Harry had figured out why he was killed from dreams he’d had of Voldemort, but she supposed the Ministry and St. Mungo’s still had no way of knowing that Death Eaters had wanted him dead because he knew what they were after- the prophecy.

“So, the plant that killed him arrived that same day, and since the only other people nearby were regular visitors, like the Longbottoms, and Harry Potter and his friends, who are above suspicion, obviously, so I was practically the main susp- wait a minute!" Hermione could practically see the information clicking together in Miriam's head like puzzle pieces snapping together.

Miriam said in a surprised voice,"You were there! On that day, I mean. That’s what you were talking about, meeting me- I knew you looked familiar."

Hermione said, “Yes, that’s why I asked you. I remember seeing you-“

Miriam interrupted her eagerly. “You didn’t happen to see anyone else suspicious that day, did you? By any chance?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, just us, and the Longbottoms. There was one old man with a hearing trumpet in the lobby who mentioned Bode-“

Miriam sighed. “Oh well. That’s Bode’s uncle, Barclay Corelious- he’s quite old, pretty well known, and the Ministry checked him out afterwards, naturally- no luck there. The only other people there were you, and Oliver Wood, of course.”

Hermione leaned forward in her seat. "Oliver Wood? The one who used to be Gryffindor Quidditch captain? What do you mean, ‘of course’?”

Miriam explained, “Oh, he’s on Puddlemere United, and the Quidditch teams always send someone to help out, bring up packages and things like that, during the holidays, to show good spirit or something like that. The tradition supposedly started when a Quidditch player everyone liked ended up at St. Mungo’s. Nowadays the reserve players usually are sent, since the main players are generally busy.”

“So he came in that day?” Shannon asked. “I haven’t heard about this before.”

“Yeah, he was actually the one who brought in the plant, as a matter of fact. He brought all the presents up from the lobby. The Ministry did ask him a few questions, but no one suspects him- what does a Quidditch player have to do with anything?” Miriam shrugged sadly.

“I wish they would figure it out soon. The Auror in charge of the whole thing is a bit overeager, in my opinion. I have as little to do with it as Harry Potter, for heaven’s sake! The way everyone looks at me these days, like I’m a careless fool who let her patient get murdered under her nose…What was I supposed to do? I’m no herbologist, I did all right in my exams but I would never dream of checking a houseplant, for heaven’s sake, I never meant…” she stopped and sadly sniffed. “Don’t tell me it’s all in my head, I see them, every day. No one trusts me anymore-“

“Oh, Miriam, that’s not true,” Verity said bracingly. “Here, have some tea. Everyone respects you- everyone with a grain of sense anyway; no one thinks anything is your fault, because it isn’t.”

Miriam sipped the tea Verity had conjured up.

“Thank you. I don’t know how I got so carried away. I never go on like this, normally- I’m just so overwhelmed these days…” The rest of her sentence trailed off as she downed the rest of the tea in one gulp.

Hermione was remembering the Healer she had met that day. She had been poised, cheerful, and motherly- and now she was a worn-out, overly sensitive shell of her former self. Hermione wished she could help her, but the Ministry definitely shouldn’t know about Harry’s connection with Voldemort- especially since they had only recently started regarding him as sane. Telling them that Harry had dreamed about Rookwood and Voldemort would be really foolish. Maybe if she could discover the real murderer, and be able to give them a clue that had no connection to Harry…

“What’s the name of the Auror investigating, by the way?” Hermione asked casually.

“Oh, him,” Miriam looked up from her teacup. “Sheridan Murkins, I believe. He certainly is trying very hard, he’s rather young and, er, enthusiastic,” she added dryly.

Hermione made a mental note, and turned her gaze to her dinner, listening to the conversation of the others. Doran didn’t seem to talk at all, only responding to Albert; and even to him, Doran just grunted or spoke in monosyllables. Albert spoke quietly about the weather or other very neutral subjects, occasionally shushing anyone who strayed too close to Order subjects, while Shannon spoke eagerly and knowledgeably about anything that came up. Miriam appeared to have temporarily forgotten her worries, as Verity spoke with her over Hermione’s head about a recent discovery in potion-making.

Before long, Hermione was helping everyone clear up the plates and bring them through the swinging doors into the kitchen. Doran disappeared right after he brought in his plate, leaving Hermione uncertain if he’d left the house or simply gone upstairs.

Verity led Hermione into the small sitting room she’d been knocked out in when she first arrived, and they sat on the sofa and chatted about wizarding history for a few hours, discovering they shared many of the same interests. Verity told Hermione a little about her family. She came from a very large family and her father was very strict and set in his ways. Hermione didn’t find out much more than that, because Verity seemed much more interested in Hermione’s family, and what it was like for her coming from a Muggle background.

Hermione finally excused herself; she wanted to go to her room to write letters. Verity wished her good night, and Hermione went up to her room. She took out two pieces of paper and dashed off letters to Harry and Ron.


*********
Dear Harry,
I miss you, hope you’re safe and the Dursleys aren’t treating you too badly. A lot of things are happening, can’t tell you any more now, sorry, but I hope to see you soon. Please don’t be anxious that this letter is very short, it’s a bit late now.
Hermione
*********

The letter to Ron was harder to write. Hermione sat, thinking about what she wanted to say. Twice she started the letter, only to realize it was no good and start over on a clean sheet.


********
Dear Ron,
I hope you are having a great summer. How are things at the Burrow? I hope I can come for a visit later and see you. Right now there is a lot going on, I hope I can tell you later. I’ve got to send this now, but please write back soon.
Hermione
********

The letters finished, she went downstairs, heading into the kitchen. Miriam and Shannon were sitting at the table there.

“Hello, do either of you have an owl I can borrow?” Hermione asked.

“Sure, I’ll go and get him for you.” Shannon got up and went into another room, coming back with a spotted barn owl clinging to her arm.

“This is Driscol.” Shannon handed the owl to Hermione.

“He should be back soon; I only need to send a few letters. Thanks so much for lending him to me. He’s a really cute owl, by the way.”

Hermione sent Driscol off with the letters, told Shannon and Miriam good night, and went upstairs again to her room.

She was lying in bed some time later, on the verge of falling asleep, when suddenly, near the door, she saw a flash of green light. Hermione sat bolt upright in her bed, making her head spin a bit dizzily, so she put her head back down on the pillow. An odd smell of burnt smoke reached her nose, but she was tired and decided to ignore it and fall asleep, since it probably was nothing anyway. She could investigate in the morning.

Early the next morning, Hermione headed downstairs, in her early-morning sleepiness completely forgetting about the strange light she’d seen near her door the night before.

Downstairs, the kitchen was quiet but busy with people packing things frantically into small bags that had to be magically enlarged on the inside, or they never would have fit anything near the amount of stuff being shoved into them. Shannon thrust a mug of tea into Hermione’s hands, which was steaming faintly and smelling of mint. When Hermione opened her mouth to thank her politely, Albert quickly shushed her and went back to the parchment he was frantically scrawling on, sending drops of ink spattering all over the table.

Hermione found some food in a cabinet, and retreated to the sitting room where she had sat in last night with Verity, who was currently busy in the kitchen. She ate neatly and quickly, and returned to the kitchen, which had calmed down a bit. Albert was whispering at the doorway with a man Hermione hadn’t seen before, and Miriam Strout was gathering up the bags which Verity and Shannon were stuffing things into.

“Time to go,” Albert said urgently, and handed Shannon the parchment he’d been writing on. “Shannon, take this. Verity, your objective is to get yourself and Hermione there safely.”

Verity rolled her eyes. “My objective? Whatever, never mind. Should I Apparate, or-“

“Forget it,” Albert said decisively, “Walk to Diagon Alley, Floo to the nearest point, then walk from there. The last thing we need now is to draw Ministry attention with Apparition traces; just ask Shannon.”

Verity nodded, and grabbed Hermione’s shoulder and walked out the door with her. They walked into the sunlight, and Hermione asked Verity, “Aren’t Shannon and Miriam coming with us? And can’t you tell me where we’re going?”

“Shannon’s coming, by a different route. She has a few stops to make first. Miriam isn’t coming. And do you really think I’d survive Albert’s wrath if I said anything on a public street about where we’re going?” Verity grinned at Hermione and imitated Albert’s mild accent. “In an unsecured place, no less! What were you thinking?”

Hermione would have answered but a sudden gesture from Verity stopped her. The two continued in wary silence through a succession of tiny streets and houses covered in peeling paint, until suddenly they were at the very edge of Diagon Alley. They went out through the archway into the Leaky Cauldron and walked through the pub, brushing past clusters of giggling witches, and one group of men in dark cloaks drinking something very strong-smelling right next to the fireplace. They made their way directly to the fireplace. Verity went first, saying to the emerald flames, “Half-Moon House!”

Hermione copied her and in a rush of swirling ashes she arrived, crashing into Verity as she fell out of the fireplace. Brushing soot out of her bushy hair, she got up and looked around. She was in the front hall of an ordinary-looking house, built and decorated Victorian-style. Hermione heard a soft knock on the door of the house. Verity strode over and demanded, “Who are you? What do you want?”

“Verity Stone, it’s Shannon Crabtree. The password you told me to say is Flame-Hurtling Crabpustles. Let me in quickly, these bags are unbelievably heavy.”

Verity opened the door carefully, her wand pointed at the opening and her eyes alert. Shannon staggered into the house, dumping all the bags she was carrying on the floor.
“Verity, you were supposed to carry some of these! Good job on finally remembering the right door-opening procedure- it sure took you a while. It could be really important, you know, don’t skip steps.”

Verity rolled her eyes, and helped Shannon carry the bags down the hall and dump them on the floor of a room empty except for a writing desk. Shannon and Verity went to the kitchen to eat a proper breakfast, while Hermione, who’d already eaten, sat at the table next to them picking at her fingernails.

The kitchen was a hot, stuffy room, piled with battered copper pots and stacks of china plates with chips all over the edges. The cabinets were dark mahogany with rusty handles. Hermione was about to ask where they were, but thought better of it, and was casting her mind about for a better conversation opener. Before she thought of a topic, a knock was heard on the door. Shannon rose to her feet, hastily swallowing a mouthful, and dashed out of the room. Hermione followed, just to see who it was. By the time she got there, Shannon was shutting the door behind a tall woman holding a shopping bag and a small boy. His face was buried in her shoulder, so only his floppy dark hair was visible.

The woman had long, silky black hair and a narrow, delicate face. She smiled with sincere, happy delight and hugged Shannon, managing not to crush the boy between them.

“Oh, Demetria, it’s good to see you! Hello, Theodore, are you awake?” The boy raised his head and grinned impishly at Shannon through his long black bangs. His eyes looked tired, and he kept yawning. Shannon grinned back at him and saw Hermione standing in the hall. “Hermione, this is my sister Demetria and her son Theodore. He’s the one who put the teddy bear in your room at the last place we were in. Remember?”

“Right, you told me about him.” Hermione smiled at the little boy, who was reaching toward Shannon and was transferred into her arms. Demetria smiled at Hermione and said, “So, you’re Hermione Granger? I heard you were coming. How’d you like Half-Moon House?”

Demetria talked almost as much as Shannon, though Shannon would probably win in a contest between the two. She kept talking for the next few minutes as they walked down the hall and into the kitchen, where they joined Verity.

They all talked about the latest in the Daily Prophet, a dementor attack in northern England. Demetria was very sweet and friendly, and Hermione liked her opinion of the news, which showed a clear grasp of the events and an interesting perspective on what she thought Voldemort was planning. Though Shannon kept disagreeing with her, Hermione thought she had made some good points.

A series of knocks echoed down the hall, and Verity, who’d finished her breakfast by this point, went to get it. Albert entered the room, along with a short blond man, who left some bags on the kitchen table and left the house out the back door. Albert greeted everyone and said to Demetria, “Ready to leave?”

Demetria’s smiling face instantly went serious, and she nodded. “Where am I going?” she asked.

“North of here, to Norfolk. I’ll give you more directions, and information you’ll need for the mission, just not in here. You should say goodbye first, if you like,” Albert said.

Demetria, her face still solemn, gently kissed Theodore goodbye where he was sitting on Shannon’s lap, and waved goodbye to the others. Theodore gave Shannon a sticky kiss and promptly fell fast asleep on her lap. She and Albert left the kitchen, and a few minutes later, they heard the front door slam and Albert came back in alone.

“So, Hermione,” he began, sitting down at the table, “you’ve been waiting a while, haven’t you?”

Hermione nodded, eager to start with all her questions. “Well, who called me, in the first place? To meet with you, I mean?”

Albert chuckled. “A man who serves a good drink, and that’s all I’m sayin’.”

Hermione frowned at this mysterious statement, and asked, “What do you mean?”

“Is there anything else I ought to tell you?” Albert said to himself, evasively. “Oh, yes. We are in Half-Moon House, south of London, which is rather inconveniently located, instead of Grimmauld Place. Didn’t a clever girl like you wonder about that?”

Stung, Hermione retorted, “No, actually, since I didn’t know where exactly we were, since we came by Floo. And why are you trying to distract me?”

Shannon giggled. “He just likes being mystifying, Hermione, don’t take it personally. Even to Order members he prefers speaking in puzzles.”

“Actually, your question is about something I can’t tell you- the man who called you is someone who is- well, it’s hard to explain without saying who he is, but he is unusual and if you don’t already know who he is, I can’t tell you. Don’t worry about it too much, for your own safety. You’ll meet him again, more than likely, and perhaps you’ll recognize him. Back to my other question- you know who owned Grimmauld?” Albert asked.

“Yes, Sirius Black did. But now he’s- Oh! So who owns the house now?” Hermione realized instantly, her eyes wide, what Albert was saying.

“I knew you’d figure it out. Sirius left everything he had, pretty much, to Harry. What we don’t know is if the house will go to him, or to Bellatrix, who is the next in line of the Black family.”

Hermione’s mouth fell open, too stunned for words. She could hardly grasp the enormity of problems that would arise for the order if a Death Eater owned their biggest headquarters, as well as the unfairness of Sirius’s murderer benefiting so much from his death.

Albert sighed, and said sadly, “It’s tough. Dumbledore said he’d know in a few weeks what’s up with that, but in the meantime we’re stuck in pathetic buildings that have no Fidelius Charm and we could be attacked any minute, or spied on somehow and all our plans revealed. It makes me really jittery, I can tell you. I almost know how poor Mad-Eye feels.”

They heard a loud ringing chime, and Albert said, “Someone’s at the fireplace, Flooing in.” He rose from his chair, but before he could go anywhere, Charlie Weasley entered the room.

“Hello, everyone!” Charlie said cheerfully. “Albert, what’s up? Got my orders? Oh, hello, Hermione, I didn’t know you were here!”

“Great, because you weren’t supposed to,” Albert muttered as Hermione greeted Ron’s older brother.

Charlie turned to Verity. “Here, Verity, I’ve got a message for you from the shop.” He handed her a roll of parchment which she carefully opened, scanned, then put back in her pocket.

“And who are you? Have we met?” Charlie asked Shannon. “Who is this fine young gentleman?”

Shannon smiled up at Charlie. “This is my nephew, Theodore. I’m Shannon Crabtree. I think I saw you once at the meeting at headquarters, at the end of last year. I wasn’t in the room for the main meeting, since I had to leave early for that little problem that came up in Scotland- I was part of the mission, so that’s why we didn’t meet there. But where were you before that? Are you a new member, then?”

Charlie laughed. “Quite the opposite, actually. I’m working in Romania, only came back here for the summer and early fall on a visit.”

Shannon looked amazed. “Then you’re Charlie Weasley!”

“Am I that famous?” Charlie asked, looking a bit confused.

“I’m an Auror, and I’m friends with a few people in the Magical Beast Division. They say you’re the best dragon-worker they have!”

“Well, that’s kind of them.”

“I have no doubt that you are, Mr. Weasley . And now that I think of it, I remember hearing someone say that you’re an excellent Quidditch player, too, and you won the match in the ministry two years ago, the one with the frog, the giant mushroom, and the beater’s bat. Were you involved in that little incident?”

Charlie blushed, his ears red. “Er, yeah, actually. It wasn’t on purpose, though. My team in Romania heard about it and wouldn’t stop teasing me for weeks.”

Albert interrupted them. “Charlie, I need you to come over here and get your instructions. If we don’t do it soon… there’ll be too many problems. Goodbye, all of you. Hermione, I’ll talk to you later today, if you don’t mind. Shannon, you can explain a little to her, if you like. I’ll be back in a minute.” He stood and walked toward the door of the kitchen.

Charlie bowed a farewell, and followed Albert out of the kitchen, the two whispering together.

Shannon smiled dreamily. “So that’s Charlie Weasley… I wondered if I’d ever meet him.”

Hermione grinned at her, recognizing the look on her face. She looked exactly like Ginny did when she was talking to Hermione about Harry. They sat quietly for a minute, Albert rejoining them in the kitchen.

The short break was broken when a loud bang was heard in the front of the house. Albert dashed to investigate, and as soon as he was gone, Hermione, who was looking out the back window, screamed.

A Death Eater was standing right outside, wand pointed straight at them.

Shannon jumped up as Hermione screamed, looking around frantically and motioning for her and Verity to get down so they wouldn’t be seen. Verity grabbed Theodore from Shannon’s arms and crouched down on the floor. The masked Death Eater blasted the window with his wand and vaulted into the house as the dust settled. Shannon’s wand was already drawn, and she fired a jet of red light at him that he blocked, making Shannon duck as it bounced back at her. Verity began scuttling out of the kitchen, staying low, as a second Death Eater leapt inside, distracting the first Death Eater long enough for Shannon to stun him. Shannon began fighting the second Death Eater and shouted to Hermione, “Go!”

Verity made it to the door and jumped out, and Hermione ran after her, first shooting out a charm to make the ceiling directly over the Death Eater’s head to detach itself and fall down. The Death Eater was whacked over the head with it, but the ceiling chunk wasn’t big enough to knock him out, though it did give Shannon a chance to get in another spell at him. Hermione was out of the room before she could see what happened next. She ran to catch up with Verity and followed her down the hall.

“What should I do about Theodore?” Verity panted. “I put a silencing charm on him, but he isn’t safe in the middle of a fight. I’d Apparate out, but I don’t know how to do side-along. I’d probably splinch us!”

“Find Albert!” Hermione gasped in return. They ran into the front room and found Albert frantically trying to strengthen the front of the house against a handful of Death Eaters. THe Death Eaters were slowly starting to break through the wards preventing them from entering with a constant barrage of spells.

“They’ll be sneaking in through the sides of the house any minute, but I can’t leave here!” Albert told them when he saw them come in, his brow furrowed with concentration.

“They’re already coming in the back, Shannon’s fighting them off!” Verity said quickly. “What do we do about Theodore?”

A tall Death Eater broke through Albert’s spells, leaving a gaping hole in the wall behind him which Albert sealed behind him quickly. Albert shouted something unintelligible to Verity and Hermione that sounded like “Get him!” or maybe “Get out!”- his accent had grown too thick to understand under pressure.

Verity was afraid of drawing spells in Theodore’s direction, so Hermione attacked with a Stupefy as Albert spared a second from his wards for a quick Impedimenta. The combined effect broke through the Death Eater’s shield temporarily, but the spell lost strength in doing so. The Death Eater was merely knocked backwards a few paces and quickly fired back something nasty and purple at Hermione, who barely shielded in time.

Summoning up tricks she remembered from the DA, Hermione cast a hex at him, which he ducked. Verity contributed a jinx and hurriedly cast a strong shield around Theodore and herself. He was about to send something at Verity when Shannon came running in and knocked him out from behind.

They all sighed with relief, and Shannon joined Albert in blocking the Death Eaters outside.

‘I blocked the back windows up, but we need to get out of here, and fast,” Shannon told them.

Verity opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted as five Death Eaters burst in all at once. Shannon knocked a blond one unconscious as he aimed at Hermione, and Albert sent another flying backwards to smash his head against the wall. One of the remaining ones sent a spell at Theodore, recognizing him as a weak point. Albert jumped in front of the curse, and gasped as the spell sunk in.

He collapsed as Shannon, shrieking furiously, bashed his attacker over the head with a nearby chair she was levitating. Verity attacked another one, and he sent something nasty-looking her way, which just missed her- though the force of it knocked her over. She was still clutching Theodore tightly, and he looked like he was crying at this point, though he wasn’t audible.

Verity shouted, “Stupefy!” from where she lay sprawled on the floor. The Death Eater hadn’t expected this, and he fell, unconscious. The last Death Eater shouted a spell Hermione had never heard that sent orange light at Shannon, who retaliated by sending it bouncing back at him and following that with a full body-bind that finally got him.

Shannon wiped her hair out of her face- her formerly tidy, stylish ponytail had come undone and was flopping messily in tangles. “Verity,” she said breathlessly, “can you make a Portkey? Albert’s in a bad way, I think.”

Verity looked uncertain. “I’ve only done it once, but I think so. I’m generally good with that type of spell.”

Shannon took the ribbon out of her hair, and grabbed a vase from the floor that had been knocked off the table.

“Here,” she said, pointing her wand at the vase, “Portus! Hermione, you take Albert to St. Mungo’s with this one.”

Verity quickly made the other for her and Theodore, to a street near the hospital, just in case of problems. Before either could use it, one of the Death Eaters on the floor mumbled something and rose jerkily to his feet.

“You can’t escape now,” he hissed, “Crucio!” Shannon dodged just in time. She would never have made it if his aim wasn’t so unsteady from his dizziness after waking up.
“Hurry!” Shannon yelled at Hermione and Verity. “Three, two, one…”

Verity grabbed the ribbon and pressed Theodore’s hand to it at the same time as Hermione grabbed the vase and put it on Albert.

“Go!” Shannon shouted and sent a golden rope spinning through the air at the Death Eater. The last thing Hermione saw before the Portkey jerked her away was a spell hitting Shannon in the shoulder, while a spell of Shannon’s twirled the Death Eater around in a gust of wind. It looked like a closely matched battle, and now there was no one else there to help Shannon out.

Hermione and Albert landed hard in the lobby of St. Mungo’s. A mediwitch on duty hurried over to them, took one look at Albert, and called over a team of healers. They levitated him onto a stretcher floating in midair, and hurried him and Hermione to a small room, where they set to work examining him as Hermione sat nervously in a stiff white chair in a corner, shaking from the aftershocks of the battle she’d been through.

A few minutes later, Verity came hurrying in and collapsed into a chair next to Hermione.

“I left Theodore at a friend’s house near here. I hope Shannon will be safe- I sent a message to the others. If there’s anyone available, they’ll go bail her out. I feel so guilty about leaving her there, but I’ve got to obey her orders. What’s going on? Are you all right?”

“I have no idea, sorry, they’re checking Albert, I suppose," Hermione said worriedly. "I’m all right, just rather shaken. How are you?”

Verity sighed, a long, weary release of air. “I’m better at research and work like that than battles. I’m no Auror, and moments like this remind me why I didn’t want to be one. I’m not injured, at least, and Theodore’s all right. Demetria would’ve killed us if anything happened to him. It was all so scary.” She shivered a little, and Hermione put a hand on her shoulder.

“Everything will be all right now, we’re safe. You did a great job protecting Theodore- for someone who doesn’t like fighting battles, you’re pretty good at it,” Hermione told her admiringly.

“Thanks. You weren’t bad yourself. I hope Albert will be fine- I’m not sure what that was- the spell that hit him. He’s the one who really saved Theodore,” Verity said, and Hermione nodded in agreement.

They settled in to wait. Once or twice they tried to ask a Healer what was going on, but none would say more than, “We’re working on it,” or “Don’t worry, ladies,” or other noncommittal answers.

The wait was interrupted when a loud knock came on the door, sending Healers scurrying over to shush the visitor. George Weasley burst into the room and dashed over to Verity and Hermione with a worried expression on his face.

“Verity, they said you were in a fight- are you all right? Remind me never to let you do that on your off-day again. Did you ever get my message?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Weasley, and yes, I got the message from Charlie.” Verity smiled reassuringly at him.

“Hermione!” George said, noticing her. “What are you doing here? Is everything all right?”

Before Hermione could answer him, Fred Weasley rushed in through the open door, followed by Angelina Johnson.

“Verity, what happened? What’s going on?” Fred asked.

“I’m quite all right, honestly, it’s Albert that got hurt. We’re just waiting around here,” Verity told him.

Fred turned to Hermione, “Oh, hello, Hermione. You look a bit confused.”

“Hello Fred, George, Angelina. Verity, you know the Weasleys, then?” Hermione asked her.

“Oh, I work at their store. You know, Wizarding Wheezes. Then on my day off I help out wi- you know, Albert.”

“Oh, I see.” Hermione looked at Fred and George, and said, “You started a store?”

They told her a little about it, impressing Hermione greatly. She had no idea that the twins' collection of tricks had gotten extensive enough to produce and sell to so many people. Angelina chimed in now and then, adding details of the twins' successes and mistakes (some of which were pretty extreme).

Hermione noticed that Angelina looked exhausted, with huge circles around her eyes. When Hermione asked her about it and Angelina replied, “Oh, I’m training for professional Quidditch, the Holyhead Harpies. They think new recruits should practice just about all day.”

Fred added, “Yeah, she has no free time, just one day off every couple of weeks. Today she got leave, though, to work on something, and when George told us about Albert getting hurt and Verity being here, we came along with him. Do you know what’s happening to Shannon?”

“I’m afraid not. She was fighting a Death Eater when we last saw her. Did anyone go to help her?” Verity asked.

“Yeah, a couple of others should be there by now. I hope.” George said morosely. “I guess we just wait, then.”

They all sat down to watch. There were only two Healers near Albert now. After quite a while, one wearily plodded over to them. His nametag read Bernard Anders, and he was slightly stooped with a lined, rugged face that looked like it had been through a lot. He spoke to them in a quiet tone, “He’s sleeping now. He should be all right, with a bit of luck. That was one nasty jinx he got hit with there. You all should leave, get some rest.”

They all stood and thanked the Healer. Hermione noticed George whispering something in Verity’s ear while her face remained carefully blank. Fred yawned and stretched.
“Why don’t we all go down to the lobby and Floo to the shop?” he suggested. “There’s space upstairs for us to rest. Unless anyone has a better idea of where to go?”

Hermione suddenly remembered something. “I haven’t called my parents!” she exclaimed. “Do you have a Muggle telephone near you that I could use?”

“There’s a payphone outside the Leaky Cauldron somewhere, I think, but you’d better go with someone else to watch your back. It’s a bit dangerous around there,” George said helpfully.

“I guess so. Are you volunteering?” Hermione asked.

“All right. If it won’t take too long, that is.” George grinned at her. “I’ll stand there like a security guard, think on ideas for the shop and keep an eye out for trouble. Sounds like my cuppa tea.”

Hermione smiled back at him. “Thanks, then.”

“No trouble is too great for Hermione the prefect, defender of first-year prank victims, and occasional unwitting guinea pig for Canary Creams or worse,” said George, sweeping her an elegant bow. “Let’s be off then, shall we?” he said to everyone.

They headed down to the lobby and Flooed to the Leaky Cauldron.