The kitchen was warm and lit by the crackling fire in the hearth. Harry and Ron had put a sofa by the stove a few months before and Hermione was now laying on it, curled under a blanket. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so tired.
Ron came over with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Hermione snatched one and drank nearly half of it in one gulp.
They were alone in Grimmauld Place. Harry was at the Ministry, working through the details of what had just transpired. Hermione knew she would be frightfully busy in the morning, but she couldn’t bring herself to think about it.
Ron sat down on the couch next to her. “Is it all right?” he asked, gesturing at her mug. “It’s just from the box.”
“It’s fine,” said Hermione. She closed her eyes.
“No, you don’t,” said Ron, jiggling her foot. “I want to hear exactly what happened.”
Hermione smiled and groaned at the same time. “Do you have any idea what I’ve just been through?”
“No, and that’s why I need to hear about it,” he said, leaning back and taking a sip from his mug.
Hermione laughed. “It’s a long story.”
“When you’re done, you can sleep,” Ron promised.
“Well, you know about the article in the Prophet,” Hermione began.
*
It was two weeks after she and Ron were engaged. She was in her cubicle at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, sifting through reports of malignant fairies.
Bored by the long-winded brief she was reading, she picked up the Daily Prophet and saw the headline: AMULET MISSING, SWALLOWED BY GRIFFIN.
Mildly intrigued, Hermione scanned the article. Two nights before, a small magical museum in Kent had lost its main display: the Amulet of Imhotep, an ancient pendant that granted the wearer powerful magical abilities. The Amulet was said to hold a great attraction for magical beings and was kept behind a bewitched pane of glass that kept museum visitors from falling under its thrall.
The loss occurred when one of the museum’s security griffins went berserk and broke free from its chains. It rampaged through the exhibits and accidentally smashed the enchanted pane of glass. Attracted by the priceless Amulet, the beast had swallowed it and then escaped museum personnel by flying through a window.
The griffin was still at large and the museum was offering a huge reward to anyone who could capture it.
Hermione was fascinated. It was a very odd occurrence. She had heard of the Amulet’s powers and knew that if it fell into the wrong hands, the consequences could be disastrous.
“Reading about the Amulet case?”
Lindsay Wyndham, the Head of the Department, had come into Hermione’s cubicle and was reading over her shoulder, a habit Hermione detested.
“Yes, very strange, isn’t it?” said Hermione.
“Very strange,” said Lindsay. He was a large-jowled man approaching fifty. “I’d like to start a quiet search for the creature. The museum curator has been bombarding me with owls. If that Amulet was lost, well”our Department would be blamed for it.”
“Do we have any idea where the griffin is?” Hermione asked.
“Not yet, but a powerful object such as the Amulet will leave a magical trace,” said Lindsay.
“Won’t the griffin”,” Hermione hesitated, wanting to be delicate. “Well, won’t it pass the Amulet?”
“Unlikely,” said Lindsay. “The Amulet will attach itself to the griffin as the nearest source of magical power. We don’t know how the creature will be affected. Its strength, stamina or health might well be exorbitantly increased by the Amulet.”
“It seems rather convenient that the griffin breaks free and then makes off with a priceless treasure,” said Hermione. “What are the odds of that?”
Lindsay leaned in closer, jowls quivering unpleasantly. “I myself think it’s much too convenient, Miss Granger. It may be that the beast was enchanted and forced to procure the Amulet for someone. We just don’t know.”
“Should I contact Magical Law Enforcement?” Hermione asked. “They could keep an eye out for anyone who might be involved.”
“That’s an excellent idea,” said Lindsay. “We’ll send someone to look for the griffin today. Maybe Perkins.”
For some reason that even she couldn’t really fathom, Hermione said, “If it’s all right with you, Mr. Wyndham, I’d like to do it.”
There was a silence as both parties absorbed what had been said.
“You’re not a field witch, Miss Granger,” said Lindsay, seeming a little taken aback. “But I suppose you could search for the creature if you’d like. You obviously have a record of capability when it comes to hunting down magical objects.”
“Thank you,” said Hermione, who was furiously trying to figure why she had opened her mouth in the first place.
“I’ll have a field package ready in an hour,” said Lindsay. He turned on his heel and left the cubicle.
Hermione was mystified by her own behavior. Why did she feel a compulsion to go running around after an escaped griffin? She had a wedding to plan and a job to do that did not involve hunting down dangerous creatures.
She was qualified to do so, of course (she had passed her initial Ministry tests with flying colors), but why?
Perhaps it was impending marriage. She loved Ron, she really did, but there were flickers”just small flickers”of doubt and fear at the prospect of such an enormous commitment.
Maybe she needed this. One little adventure by herself, to clear her head. Besides, she’d probably find the griffin in a few hours.
How hard could it be to find one animal that would be leaving magical traces everywhere it went? It would be a quick, easy job, Hermione thought.
She was wrong on both counts.
*
Hermione had, after a fairly short amount of time, developed an irrational hatred of that damned griffin. She had already chased it across the Channel, across half of Europe and through more than half a dozen countries.
She’d started out in Kent. Magic always left traces and the Amulet was not difficult to track. Using a few choice spells, Hermione followed the trail through the English countryside for an entire afternoon. Luckily, the griffin had apparently stayed in the air most of the time, so few Muggles would have spotted it.
When she realized that the beast had actually crossed the Channel into France, Hermione started getting annoyed. Her “quick, easy job” was turning into what would probably be a trip of three or four days.
She sent an owl back to the Ministry with an update and another to Harry and Ron. She had plenty of Muggle currency from various countries in her field package, so finding food and a place to sleep wouldn’t be difficult.
After checking through Wizarding customs, Hermione Apparated across the Channel. Cross-country Apparition was difficult and very dizzying. She nearly vomited on the shoes of a little French wizard at customs.
Picking up the griffin’s trail in France was tricky and Hermione eventually booked a room in Cherbourg for the night. She could speak a few words of French, which helped her a little.
It was a lonely evening. She ate at a small café, cursing herself for undertaking this silly mission in the first place.
In the morning, Hermione picked up the Amulet’s trail around Lille. The griffin was clearly moving quickly”as though the beast had a purpose. Lindsay’s theory that the griffin was being controlled seemed likelier and likelier.
The creature appeared to be eating voraciously. Hermione discovered the carcass of a roe deer in a field around midday and a mangled feral pig in Luxembourg a few hours later. It was possible that the Amulet was enhancing the griffin’s speed, but also forcing it to use a great deal of energy.
It was certainly moving quickly enough. By the end of the second day, Hermione was in Dresden, Germany and utterly exhausted. All day she had been Apparating through the countryside, trying to track the griffin and avoid Muggles at the same time. No animal in its right mind would be pushing itself so hard. It had to have a destination. For all Hermione knew, it was headed to China.
The next day was a little better. Hermione knew that she was gaining on her quarry”it had probably rested to sleep during the night. She found another carcass in Austria. It was another deer and it was still fairly warm. She was getting closer.
By now, Hermione had almost no way of communicating with the few Muggles she encountered. At her hotel she had to rely on English and French. A translator was available, but he didn’t speak either language very well.
On the fourth day, Hermione crossed the entire country of Hungary, hot on the heels of the griffin. It was very close now, despite the speed given it by the Amulet.
The sun was setting when Hermione entered the valley. She had crossed the Hungarian border into Romania an hour or so before and was having her easiest time yet picking up the Amulet’s trail. She was nearly there.
When she finally had the beast, there would be difficulty. She would have to keep it insensible until a Ministry team arrived with a proper cage, which would take a day or two.
For now she just had to focus on finding the griffin. When she did, she would worry about the rest of it.
Even though Hermione had passed through some truly beautiful countryside over the past days, this Romanian valley made her stop for a moment and look around her.
The gently rolling land was green and dotted with trees. A few Muggle houses”cottages really”were interspersed here and there. None of them looked lived in.
Towering above the little valley was a great mountain range, green with grass at the bottom, frosty with snow at the very top. The sun was only half-visible behind the highest peak, giving the valley a strange, half-lit appearance.
It made sense that the griffin would be attracted to this place. For a creature with wings, mountains were excellent places to hide and find food.
Hermione took a deep breath of a fresh air. There was a tent in her pack. She thought she would camp in this valley tonight, as she, Harry and Ron had done on the Horcrux quest. She felt like waking up to the sun peeking over the mountains.
Looking up, she caught a flash of movement on one of the mountain’s forested slopes. It could be the griffin.
In an instant, Hermione had Apparated to the mountain slope, careful to end up a few hundred yards from her target. She peered through the trees, moving as slowly as she could.
The griffin was in a little clearing up ahead, gnawing at something that had probably once been a goat.
The creature wasn’t quite as large as Hermione had expected. He was a male”probably two hundred and fifty pounds or so, six feet long from his beak to the tip of his tufted tail. His powerful beak was streaked with blood and his razor-sharp talons were covered in the mountain goat’s gore.
He tore a chunk of flesh off of the goat carcass, swallowed it in a large gulp and then loped off into the forest, as if on an important mission. Hermione followed up the mountainside, wand drawn.
The griffin climbed up the forested mountainside purposefully, weaving through the trees. Was he looking for his master? Was he reaching a destination of some kind?
Careful to keep a distance, Hermione followed the beast, who was so intent on his goal that he didn’t detect her presence (Hermione had earlier put a charm on herself that rendered her odorless).
After a few minutes, they reached a second clearing. Sitting in the middle of it was a small, long log, which was glowing with blue light. A Portkey. The griffin’s master had planned well.
The griffin went eagerly towards the Portkey, beak opened. Hermione saw that she was about to lose the beast’s trail forever. She darted out of the trees and just managed to get her hand on the Portkey as the griffin champed down on it.
For a few seconds, the world was gone. The only things Hermione could see or feel were the griffin, the log and her own hand.
They landed, hard. Hermione lay on the wonderfully solid ground, doubled over, gasping from the effects of the journey.
The griffin spat out the log and reared, squalling, all of its feathers standing on end, its talons raking the air. Hermione felt a sharp pain on her forehead as one of the griffin’s claws cut her. She pointed her wand at the creature and shouted an incantation.
With a screech, the griffin was blasted twenty yards away in a flash of yellow light.
Hermione raised her head dizzily, taking notice of her surroundings. She was lying in green grass, surrounded by tall pine trees. A little way ahead of her was a tiny hamlet. A dirt road cut through the middle of it; cheery brown cottages sat on either side. Dominating the scene was an odd building that Hermione thought looked like a Scandinavian stave church.
Scandinavia. They were a long way from Romania. The very thought made her head hurt”or maybe that was the wound? She gently probed the stinging cut and felt a steady stream of blood rolling down her forehead.
People were coming out of the cottages, people dressed in brown and babbling in a language Hermione did not understand. A few were pointing at her, but most were looking up in the sky.
It was the griffin soaring above the fir trees that had caught their attention. He was getting smaller by the second, his wings flapping wildly as he escaped.
Hermione had lost him again. She swore and started to get up, head aching, confused and alone in a strange country.
Why had she started this in the first place?
The people from the cottages gave Hermione a wide berth as she strode up the street, wand out. Ordinarily, she would have been more concerned about Muggle security, but this wasn’t a time to worry about it.
She picked up the Amulet’s trail quite quickly. She walked behind the stave church to Apparate closer to her prey. No one tried to stop her.
For about half an hour, Hermione followed the beast through a thick forest. She thought she was probably deep in a remote area of Scandinavia”possibly Denmark, or Norway.
She took a short breather to eat and write a note to the Department, explaining her situation and location. Hopefully, a Ministry team would be on-site shortly.
The Portkey was proof-positive that someone had engineered the griffin’s theft and escape. Whoever it was had gone to enormous trouble to first steal the Amulet and then to keep it undetected.
To Hermione’s surprise, she had found magical traces that suggested that the griffin had landed in the forest only a short while after taking off at the hamlet. She had guessed that the creature would continue to fly, frightened by her magical attack.
After an hour of hiking through the thick, cold forest, Hermione saw in the distance a small clearing. There was movement in it and something that looked like a fire. People. She crept closer, careful not to make noise.
A small campfire burned in the middle of the clearing. An enormous blonde man dressed in furs and a smaller, ferrety fellow were squatting on either side of it, warming their hands. There was a felt hat sitting next to the ferrety man; he kept glancing over at it as though he expected it to do something.
The griffin was lying, unfettered, on the ground, his head on his outstretched legs, looking about as peaceful as a pet dog.
“”don’t see why we can’t cut the damn thing out right now,” said the blonde man. His voice was heavy and low, with just a hint of a Russian accent.
“Because those aren’t our instructions,” said the ferrety man. His voice was flat, nasal and American. “We take the animal to herand she deals with it. Case closed.”
“She’s sent us around the damn world over this Amulet,” snarled the Russian. “Why not just snatch it from the museum?”
“Better this way. Far less likely to be caught,” said the American. “The British wizards have got damn good security”we’d have been captured. But this beastie here has evaded them for days.”
“Sending the damn thing to Romania was a bit much,” said the Russian, cracking his knuckles. “We could’ve saved a lot of trouble by having it come straight””
“It’s camouflage, idiot,” said the American. “If anyone was tracing the griffin, they’d have lost him and given up. I think it’s a fine plan.”
Hermione’s heart was in her mouth. She could try to incapacitate the two wizards, but it was an uneven matchup. Could she Stun them both before they could fight back?
“Well, I hope the boss remembers our trouble once she has the Amulet,” said the Russian peevishly.
His companion didn’t respond. Hermione craned her neck to see why and saw that the American’s wand was pointed in her direction.
“[I]Petrificus Totalus[/I]!”
Hermione fell to the ground, caught in the Full Body-Bind. She cursed herself for being so stupid.
The American caught her by the feet and dragged her into the camp, to the astonishment of the enormous Russian.
“Thought I heard something in the woods,” he said. “She was listening in.”
Hermione’s pockets and pack were roughly emptied. The American took her wand and examined her Ministry credentials.
“This witch here is a Brit. Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures,” said the American. “Probably been tracking the griffin. Dunno how she followed him from Romania.”
“Are there more of them?” asked the Russian, black eyes darting around the forest.
“Doesn’t matter,” said the American. He pointed at the felt hat, which had begun to glow blue. Another Portkey. Terror struck Hermione. They were going to leave with the Amulet, but they would likely kill her first.
“Well, let’s get rid of her and have done with it,” said the Russian, drawing his wand.
“No, we’ll bring her along,” said the American. “The boss will want to find out what she knows.”
The Russian shrugged and pointed his wand at the griffin. The animal ambled over and rested his beak on the brim of the hat. Apparently controlled by the Imperius Curse, or some form of it.
The American touched Hermione’s lifeless hand to the hat. She tried desperately to fight the curse, but it was too strong. She could only lay immobile as the Portkey whisked her across the world.
Being unable to move made the unpleasant trip even worse. When Hermione finally felt solid ground, she was too dazed to make much sense of her surroundings.
Slowly, she discovered that she was lying in yet another forest, this one light and sunny. The thin trees”birch, she thought”were few and far apart. Tall golden grass sprouted from the dirt, making it more comfortable than the Norwegian forest floor.
In the distance, Hermione could see the vague outlines of great mountains. She could be anywhere. Europe, America, Australia, possibly even Asia, although Africa was probably out.
Her captors were getting themselves a meal (although Hermione couldn’t even guess which one; her internal clock was a mess) and the griffin had lain down again, as docile as a kitten. If Hermione could have moved she would have kicked the horrible thing.
She was going to be kept alive for a little while longer”probably for torture. At least she was going to see who was running this little operation before they killed her.
To Hermione’s surprise, she found that she was so tired that she fell asleep, even while under the Full Body-Bind. The quiet conversation of the two men and the crackling of the fire lulled her into a state of unconsciousness.
She awoke a few hours later to the sound of raised voices. Her two captors were standing by the edge of the campsite, talking with three shadowy figures whose fuzzy outlines Hermione could only just discern.
“”American authorities had a tip. I don’t know how, but they’re on their way.” It was a woman speaking. She had a faint Irish accent.
“But”” spluttered the Russian. “What about the headquarters?”
“They’re probably there already,” said the woman. “I have a backup plan; we’ll have to go to” who’s that?”
Hermione was quite sure that she was being referred to.
“British witch. Found us in Norway. From their Ministry. We brought her along; wanted to see what she knew.” The American’s voice was eager and fawning, as though speaking to someone he respected a great deal.
“Fine,” said the Irishwoman, distracted. “But Stun her, would you? I don’t like to have those eyes looking at me.”
There was a flash of red light, then darkness more restful than sleep.
When Hermione came to again, she was propped up against a wall in a dark, wood-paneled room. She was alone and free to move. She felt her pockets instinctively, but her wand was gone, of course. The ferrety little American still had it.
Once again, Hermione had no idea where she was. This gang seemed to have a penchant for getting around the world.
The room was completely empty except for a single chair and a painting on the wall. The painting was of a tiger attacking a boar. Characters that were either Chinese or Japanese framed the illustration.
There were no windows and only one heavy door”locked, of course. Hermione had only two possible weapons: the chair and the painting.
She selected the chair, which was light and wooden. Hefting it above her head, she stood behind the door and waited.
It was nearly half an hour before the door opened and Hermione’s muscles were now sore and aching from the weight of the chair. She tried to bring it down on the person entering the room, but a casual flick of a wand sent her flying into the wall. The chair clattered harmlessly to the floor.
A lean, red-haired young woman with a striking face and plain black robes had entered the room. She pointed her wand at the chair, which righted itself. She sat down.
“I’m Siobhan, Miss Granger,” said the woman, who was evidently the Irishwoman that Hermione had heard the previous night and quite possibly the leader of this little gang. “I expect you have a lot of questions.”
“Not really,” said Hermione, struggling to keep her voice level. She could feel a bruise forming on her hip. “You’re a power-hungry terrorist who stole the Amulet for personal power. It wasn’t a bad plan.”
Siobhan inclined her head in a show of false modesty. “I thought it was quite inspired. It was, I thought, the perfect crime. I took special precautions, of course. I figured the Portkey in Romania would have thrown any pursuers off the track, but you were lucky somehow.”
“So what is it you want with the Amulet?” asked Hermione. She had to keep the woman talking. “World domination? That one’s quite popular with your sort.”
“Nothing so grand. In fact you got it on the first try,” said Siobhan. “I want power, Miss Granger. The Amulet of Imhotep is an excellent way to gain it.
“I’m a Muggle-born, you see. Like yourself. Surely you’ve encountered your share of prejudice, as I have. The pure-bloods looking down their noses at you, belittling your accomplishments. All that’s going to change when I have the Amulet.”
Hermione felt a flicker of hope. “You don’t have the Amulet yet?”
Siobhan frowned. “I’ll get it out of that accursed beast soon enough. When I do, I’m going to show the pure-bloods just what I’m capable of. I think I’ll start in my home country, but yours will take a close second in my priorities, I assure you.”
“What do you want from me?” asked Hermione bluntly.
Siobhan shrugged. “Not a lot,” she said. “I am mildly curious as to how much your people know, but I haven’t decided if it’s worth torturing you over. Torture is a messy business and I don’t really have the time.”
“In fact,” she said, pointing her wand in Hermione’s face. “There is absolutely no reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now.”
“You’re wrong,” said Hermione, fighting to stay calm.
“Oh, really?”
“Yes. I know how to get your Amulet out of the griffin. And I will, if you promise me my freedom,” said Hermione.
“Well, I don’t much care,” said Siobhan, after a short hesitation. “Whether you die or go free is nothing to me. But I would like my Amulet, and now. So why not?”
The door opened and Siobhan stood up.
“Come on. Follow me and don’t try anything.”
Hermione was led out of her prison into a hallway decorated with artwork, distinctly Asian in style.
“Just out of curiosity, where are we?”
“Japan,” said Siobhan. “I operate mainly from America, but I’ve kept a house here just in case. I’m sure you know by now how much I love whisking around the world. It’s a hobby of mine, you could say.”
They turned a corner. The next length of corridor had a huge plate-glass window at the end of it, through which Hermione could see that the house was on the edge of a large, glassy lake.
“Nice location, isn’t it?” said Siobhan. “It’s amazing where you can go with a Portkey. By the way, there‘s an Anti-Apparition spell on the house, so no need to try anything like that.”
She opened a door and pushed Hermione inside. This room was as small as the previous one, but was lighter and more open.
The griffin was in a corner, chained down and apparently no longer under the Imperius Curse. He was bucking and squalling softly.
The ferrety American was seated on a stool, nose buried in a thick spellbook. Several dozen of these volumes were littered around the room, apparently to aid in the removal of the Amulet.
“Granger says she knows how to get the Amulet out,” said Siobhan. “Keep an eye on her, Simpson; she’s feisty.”
The Irishwoman left, closing the door behind her.
The American (whose name was apparently Simpson) looked a little nervous to be alone with Hermione. “What do you know?” he asked.
Hermione had been bluffing. She had no idea how to get the Amulet out of the damn creature. She’d have to come up with something.
“There’s a ritual,” she said. “Do you have [I]Gulagov’s Guide to Griffins[/I]?”
Simpson glanced down to look for the book amongst the piles on the floor and Hermione seized her chance. She picked up a stool and hit him on the head with it as hard as she could.
He went down with a crash, eyes rolling back into his head.
The griffin’s squalls were getting louder and Hermione hoped that they would mask Simpson’s fall. She emptied the man’s pockets and found her wand.
She almost groaned when she realized what she had to do. She couldn’t extract the Amulet in time. She’d have to let the griffin go again.
As distasteful as the idea was, Hermione didn’t hesitate. She snapped the griffin’s chains with a spell and then administered a zapping hex to get him going.
The griffin didn’t waste time. He crashed through the door, racing through the hallway, squalling at the top of his lungs. Hermione heard a smash and knew that he had just flown out a window.
There was no time to lose. Hermione ran out into the corridor and barreled down the hallway, hoping to find a door before”
She crashed into someone turning the corner. They both fell to the floor, Hermione on top. She jumped up as quickly as she could, but a jinx flew over her head. The Russian was advancing, bellowing curses.
There was no choice. Hermione turned and crashed through the plate-glass window, hurtling down into the deep, black lake.
For an instant there was a jarring crash, the sharp pain of broken glass on skin and the sensation of plummeting from a great height. Then Hermione broke the surface of the lake with an enormous splash and the only thing in the world was the depths of the lake, the crushing mass of dark water surrounding her.
Hermione had had the foresight to hold her breath, but her lungs were burning for air anyway, their store run out. She resisted the impulse to gulp water.
She wasn’t a great swimmer, but she was at least able to swim a few strokes under the glassy surface of the lake. She had no plan, no thoughts at all, really. White spots were appearing in her head, her mind fading.
Hermione’s head suddenly broke the surface of the lake and she gasped in a beautiful mouthful of air before sinking back into the water.
Now able to think, Hermione stuck the tip of her wand into her mouth and performed a quick, non-verbal spell that filled up her lungs with air.
She paddled under the water, unable to see anything but blackness. She didn’t know if she was being pursued yet.
After nearly three minutes of swimming, she felt a wall of dirt and rock. The edge of the lake. She pulled herself up cautiously and looked around.
Siobhan’s house (now revealed to be a squat, harsh-looking abode in the classic Japanese style) was several hundred yards away. The lake bordered on a green forest filled with overhanging trees.
With some difficulty, Hermione pulled herself out of the lake and dashed for the security of the forest. With luck, Siobhan and her gang would assume that their prisoner had drowned or wouldn’t care enough to go out looking for her.
She got only a short way into the trees before she collapsed, gasping and shivering. The lake had been deathly cold and her clothes were soaked.
After a short time, Hermione regained the presence of mind to magically warm herself, which made things only a little better.
She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so miserable. She was exhausted, cold, starving, thirsty and completely alone. There was a gang of international magical terrorists only a few hundred yards away and a griffin that she should have caught long ago was winging his way towards God knew where.
Aside from her wand, she had no supplies and nothing to eat. She didn’t even have a way to contact the Ministry since her pack had been taken.
Hermione realized after a few minutes that she was crying a little.
Afterwards, she wasn’t sure whether she slept or just fell into a state of near-unconsciousness, but the next thing she recalled was hearing the tread of feet approaching her from behind, from inside the forest.
Hermione fumbled for her wand and pointed it in the direction of the footsteps. She felt too weak to hide. She would simply have to face whoever came out of the trees.
The person came closer, turned around a tree and stepped into view. It was Ginny Weasley, dressed in hiking clothes, with a knapsack on her back.
Obviously, Hermione was hallucinating. Possibly the shock of her swim in the lake. Whatever it was, it wasn’t real. Couldn’t be.
“Hermione!”
Ginny ran forward and hugged her with real, solid arms. Hermione could even feel Ginny’s warm breath on her face.
“Ginny? How”?”
“Come on, I’ll tell you everything, let’s just get farther away from the house.”
Ginny took Hermione’s arm and helped her up. Hermione felt her strength restored by Ginny’s miraculous appearance.
They went a little deeper into the forest, which was steadily darkening as the sun went down. Hermione’s mind was reeling, unable to come up with a single plausible scenario for Ginny’s presence.
Ginny finally stopped in a little clearing and opened her knapsack. A pile of blue fabric with ‘MoM’ stamped on it fell out and immediately inflated into a two-room tent. Standard Ministry issue. Hermione had had one before the gang took it. It became invisible once you entered it.
Hermione and Ginny went into the tent, which was a pleasant little two-room apartment inside. Hermione felt herself start to warm; somehow the tent magically heated itself.
Nonplussed by the comforts of the tent, Ginny sat Hermione down on a sofa and settled herself in a chair. “Do you want something to eat?”
Hermione did, desperately, but she needed an explanation before anything else. “Tell me how you’re here first. Please.”
“It’s pretty simple,” said Ginny. “Harry, Ron and I have been trying to locate you for days. Ron’s been frantic ever since the Ministry lost contact with you.”
That had been in Romania, Hermione realized. It seemed as though she’d been there months ago. “I’m sorry, I was captured””
“What?” said Ginny.
“Yours first,” said Hermione firmly.
“Well, ever since you left Britain, the Ministry has been uncovering information about the O’Malley gang,” Ginny began.
“The what?” asked Hermione.
“The gang responsible for the theft of the Amulet,” said Ginny. “We think it’s run by an Irishwoman named Siobhan O’Malley. They’ve been on the radar for a while, mainly involved in acts of terror against Ireland.
“Anyway, they were prime suspects in the Amulet robbery and Magical Law Enforcement received confirmation that they were behind it when American Wizarding authorities raided a location in the Rocky Mountains.”
Hermione knew all too well about this.
“Harry, Ron and I decided that you might have been taken by the gang or else be tracking them. This property in Japan is owned by Siobhan’s younger brother, so it seemed a likely place for her to be.”
“She is here, she’s here now!” said Hermione. Siobhan had said the house was hers, but she hardly seemed the sort to stick to the truth.
“You’ll have to tell me about her,” said Ginny, clearly intrigued.
“Oh, I will,” said Hermione, thinking that Siobhan was probably best described in profane terms.
“Anyway, Harry’s following up a lead in Romania and Ron’s in the Rockies. I came here to see if you were around. They’re going to be thrilled when they hear from us.”
Ginny’s story concluded, Hermione asked for a cup of tea and received one, along with a prepared meal that Ministry wizards received in the field. Hermione had never thought anything could taste so good.
As she ate, she told Ginny of the Portkey in Romania, her capture in Norway, her brief trip to the Rockies and her eventual escape here in Japan. It was quite a tale and Ginny listened with rapt attention.
“That sounds awful,” she said at the conclusion.
“The worst part is that the griffin is on the loose again,” said Hermione gloomily. “Siobhan will wreak havoc when she gets that Amulet.”
“She can’t get it, then,” said Ginny. “Tomorrow, you and I are going to track that griffin down. When we catch it, we’ll take it to Luna’s and extract the Amulet.”
“Luna’s?” said Hermione. Luna was currently running a busy magical veterinary practice in Diagon Alley. “Why not just hand it over to the Ministry?”
“I forgot to tell you,” said Ginny. “We think the Ministry is compromised. O’Malley has at least one informant on the inside; it’s too risky. We’ll have to do it ourselves.”
Hermione laughed weakly. “Just perfect.”
Still, she couldn’t believe the turn her fortune had taken. Thirty minutes ago she had been alone and defenseless, cold and hungry. Now she had a friend, a plan, warmth and a full stomach.
Tomorrow would be a better day.
*
Hermione slept soundly that night, not waking once. Ginny woke her at seven, which felt more like two in the morning. It would take a while for her biological clock to even out again.
“I’ve sent messages to Ron, Harry and Luna,” said Ginny as they ate a meager breakfast. “All we have to do is capture the griffin and take it back to London.”
“That’s all?” said Hermione, still a little on edge from lack of sleep.
“It won’t be as hard as you think,” said Ginny. “Hopefully O’Malley won’t know enough to trace the Amulet’s magical trail, which will give us a big head start.”
Hermione did not respond to this cheerful statement. Siobhan O’Malley was many things, but an idiot was not one of them. She would find a way to track down the griffin.
They packed up the tent when breakfast was done and started off. Hermione was glad to find the griffin’s trail fairly easy to pick up. It was heading west, through the lush forest.
“Where in Japan are we exactly?” Hermione asked as they walked through the forest. It had seemed oppressive and gloomy the day before, but the warmth of the sun and the security of Ginny’s presence made it seem beautiful today.
“The Miyazaki Prefecture,” said Ginny. “It’s one of the easternmost provinces in the country.”
“At least we’re surrounded by the ocean,” said Hermione. “The griffin won’t be able to go too far.”
With Ginny as a companion and the weather light and pleasant, the trip through the forest (which was soon becoming a sort of jungle) was almost enjoyable. The griffin’s trail was strong and there were no signs of Siobhan or her gang.
“We’ll have to reach a Muggle city or town soon,” said Hermione after an hour of hard hiking. The terrain was becoming mountainous and harder to navigate.
“Maybe not,” said Ginny. “I think we’re in a mostly uninhabited area.”
Around midday, as Hermione and Ginny hiked up a jungle-covered mountain, they heard a great rush of water.
“Must be a waterfall,” said Ginny. “There’re quite a few of them around here.”
“I think the griffin headed this way,” said Hermione. “It probably needed a drink.”
As they came closer to the falls, Hermione’s tracking spell suddenly went haywire. The Amulet’s trail still registered, but the spell was picking up a large amount of unrelated magical power.
“What’s going on?” asked Ginny.
“There’s a lot of magical power nearby,” said Hermione.
“O’Malley?” asked Ginny, looking around.
Hermione shook her head. “No. The spell focuses on magical objects, not wizards.”
Perplexed, they went further up the mountain, where the trees were thinning. Hermione saw they were approaching the edge of a cliff. The waterfall was deafening.
Their mouths both opened at the same time when they saw the enormous waterfall plunging thousands of feet down into a dark reservoir. Flanked on all sides by thick jungle, the waterfall plummeted down from a mountain so high that Hermione couldn’t see the top.
There were no signs of people or industry, just the massive, glittering sheet of blue water and the strikingly green jungle all around it. Hermione thought it was one of the most beautiful things she’d ever seen.
Strangest of all, the magical trail seemed to be headed right for the waterfall. There was so much magical power being detected that Hermione couldn’t even separate the Amulet from the rest.
On a hunch, she moved to the very edge of their cliff, only a few feet from the raging waterfall. One wrong step and she would fall to her death.
To Hermione’s surprise, there was a narrow, dark passage between the wall of shining water and the mountainside. Had the griffin hidden in this damp passageway for some reason?
Hermione waved Ginny over. It was impossible to speak to each other”the waterfall was too loud”but Hermione pointed in the passageway and indicated that the trail led there.
After putting a No-Skid Spell on the soles of their shoes to prevent accidents, Hermione and Ginny approached the passage. It was a shelf of black rock that led from the edge of their cliff to (presumably) the edge of the next one.
Nervous but determined, Hermione took the first step. The shelf seemed surprisingly dry and was certainly strong enough to hold their weight. Her ears hurt from the thought-drowning sound of the waterfall.
They progressed further, careful to keep close to the mountainside. If one of them slipped off the shelf, the waterfall would hurl them into the reservoir thousands of feet down.
The waterfall looked like a window of molten glass from inside the passageway. Hermione could just make out the greens and browns of the forest.
And then, all of a sudden, she took a step forward and was jerked through space and reality.
It was a little bit like Apparition, but much faster. One instant, she had been walking on the shelf of black rock, the next she was lying on the ground in what looked like a busy marketplace.
For several seconds, Hermione simply looked around, completely baffled.
The marketplace was apparently in an enormous, hollowed-out cave. The ceiling was just barely visible, but the dusky dimness seemed to indicate a cave with no natural light.
It was absolutely teeming with people, sights, smells and sounds. The only thing comparable in Hermione’s experience was Diagon Alley at its busiest.
Small stands and carts selling food, souvenirs and other various items were scattered everywhere, without any apparent order. In addition, there were a few orderly streets lined with stores and houses of Japanese design.
The people were predominantly Japanese and Hermione could clearly see that most of them were wizards and witches; there was a wand in nearly every hand. The numerous strange creatures for sale put any further doubt out of Hermione’s mind: this was a magical community.
The waterfall was now audible only as a gentle hum, as though there was a motor running this strange little Wizarding village.
Ginny suddenly appeared next to Hermione in a puff of purple smoke. She was swearing profusely, stunned by the marketplace’s sudden appearance.
“What the hell is this?” she asked.
“Probably the Japanese equivalent of Diagon Alley,” said Hermione, getting to her feet. “This is why my spell picked up so many magical traces: there must be a thousand artifacts here.”
“Well, where’s the griffin then?” said Ginny, standing up. “You think it found this place, too?”
“Probably,” said Hermione. “The trail leads here.”
They started off down a street, sidestepping vendors and shoppers at every turn. Everyone was speaking in rapid Japanese, which Hermione didn’t understand a word of. One elderly man began imploring her to buy what she guessed were kappa ankles, but she declined as well as she could.
“This is amazing,” said Ginny. “And well-hidden, too. No Muggle would ever find it.”
They wound their way up and down the streets of things for sale. The cavern was enormous, but not endless; Hermione guessed that it was probably a mile in diameter.
There was no sign of the griffin or of anyone who might speak English. Hermione saw several European tourists, but they were either Austrian or German.
Finally, she heard a word of spoken English from a young couple eating at one of several small picnic tables. They were both young, blonde and attractive, clearly enjoying themselves on a vacation.
“Excuse me,” said Hermione, coming up to their table. “Sorry to interrupt you, but have you seen a griffin here in the marketplace today? My friend and I are”uh, missing one.”
“Oh, there was a griffin here about three hours ago,” said the woman in a light British accent. “It caused an awful ruckus, knocking things over and screeching.”
“What happened to it?” asked Hermione, excitement mounting. The griffin was close and it had not yet been claimed by Siobhan and her gang.
“Taken by a fellow named Parker,” said the man. “I believe he’s a magical-creature collector of sorts. I spoke with him a little. He was here on holiday, wanted to find a new animal for his collection. Stroke of luck that the griffin turned up. He knew all the right spells, took it down quickly.”
“Where is he? This man Parker?”
“Staying at that inn, I think,” said the English tourist, pointing at a squat hotel a street away.
Hermione thanked the couple and she and Ginny headed for the hotel, which was the only one in the cave (the cavern was properly named Majikku, Hermione later found out).
The clerk knew only rudimentary English and it took several minutes before she understood what Hermione and Ginny wanted. She reported that Mr. Parker had left Majikku with the griffin in tow.
“He said he was going to the Congo next. Looking for the Erumpent,” the clerk said.
Hermione thanked the clerk through gritted teeth and she and Ginny headed outside to discuss this latest development.
“The Congo?” Ginny exploded. “Who goes on a vacation to Japan and then heads over to the Congo?”
Hermione felt like she could scream with annoyance. “And looking for an Erumpent with a dangerous griffin? How could he even get it through Japanese customs?”
“He’s probably getting to Africa illegally,” said Ginny. “Maybe he plans to sell the griffin once he’s there; I hear there’s a roaring trade in magical creatures in Africa.”
“Well, we have to find him,” said Hermione. “With luck we can catch him before he leaves Japan.”
“And before Siobhan catches up with him,” said Ginny darkly.
*
They had no luck.
Parker had indeed left Japan through an illegal Floo Network and was already on his way to the Congo by the time Hermione and Ginny found his (or rather the Amulet’s) trail. They had no choice.
A day and a half and four Floo stopovers later, they were in the Congo. Using a legitimate network, the pair had travelled across half the planet after the magical-creature “collector” who was unknowingly in possession of one of the most powerful magical artifacts in the world.
Hermione was completely and utterly exhausted by the time she and Ginny arrived in a small Wizarding village deep in the mountainous jungles of the Congo. She felt like she hadn’t rested since Romania.
Still, they had one small stroke of luck. Parker had arrived in the same village that they had, ahead of them by only a few hours.
“He had the griffin on a chain like a dog,” said the aging African wizard in charge of the village’s one Floo-connected fireplace. “He bought a little food and talked about finding an Erumpent. A big-talking fellow. He and the beast headed into the jungle two-three hours ago. They shouldn’t have gotten far.”
Hermione and Ginny knew they were facing an extremely dangerous trip into the heart of the African jungle, one of the most treacherous places in the world. Ginny pointed this out as she and Hermione stocked up on food.
“If we do this, there’ll be a good chance of getting seriously hurt,” she said, feeling a plump tangerine. “The jungle is very dangerous even asidefrom this guy Parker, the griffin, the Erumpents and O’Malley’s gang.”
“I know,” said Hermione. “But it has to be us. If we wait for someone else, Siobhan will catch up and get the Amulet. She’ll be almost as dangerous as Voldemort when she gets it.”
Ginny nodded. They both knew what they had to do.
After thanking the people of the village for their information and buying enough food for a few weeks, Hermione and Ginny entered the dark jungle.
It was far thicker than the Japanese jungle had been. The trees were tall and oppressive, blocking out light. The undergrowth was unbelievable; ferns and roots everywhere, threatening to trip them.
A sluggish swamp lay stagnant in the ground; frogs hopping in and out of the muddy water, trying to catch the big flies that hovered around the surface. Huge trees lay felled by the people of the village, making the way through even more difficult.
“Well, let’s do this,” said Ginny with an ironic smile.
Hermione nodded, shouldered her pack and started off into the unknown.
The going was incredibly slow that day. Hermione doubted that they made more than five miles. They had to go on foot for the majority of the time”Apparating was risky. If they lost the griffin’s trail in the jungle, it was unlikely that they would ever find it again.
Thankfully, Parker seemed to be moving as slowly as they were. Every now and then, Hermione would see his footprint or the marks of the griffin’s claws on the forest floor.
The jungle was a great tangled mess of vines, trees, creepers, roots and swamps. By the end of the day both Hermione and Ginny were muddy up to their knees from accidentally stepping in bogs.
It was hot and oppressive in the jungle and the insects didn’t make things easier. Hermione was utterly miserable and Ginny looked as uncomfortable as she felt.
They camped that night in a tiny clearing, protected by the vines and huge trees that had daunted them all day. Hermione cast a charm around the tent that would warn them of the approach of any human or animal.
Ginny sent a message to Harry and Ron, who were, apparently, back in London. They were following a lead that they hoped would help them find Siobhan.
“She could be out here,” said Ginny nervously. “In the jungle.”
“She probably is,” said Hermione. “She’ll be tracking the Amulet, or at least Parker. We just have to find him first.”
Ginny did not seem encouraged.
The next morning they got up early, ate quickly and resumed their trek.
Parker was close. Hermione could tell. The man must really be a fool to enter a thick African jungle with a dangerous beast while looking for another dangerous beast.
Around midday, Hermione and Ginny passed through a particularly tangled piece of jungle and were struck by a horrendous smell, which somewhat resembled rotting meat.
“What is that?” choked Hermione, coughing and wiping her eyes.
“Parker,” said Ginny.
A few hundred yards away, they could see an enormous gray mound, that Hermione at first thought was a mammoth rock. As they came closer, she saw it was a dead Erumpent.
The creature was enormous, easily as large as a non-magical rhino, which it strongly resembled. Its skin was smooth and not plated, but Hermione knew that it was an incredibly tough material.
The animal had been sliced open by some kind of powerful spell. Some of its organs had been removed and neatly stacked on the ground.
Dominating the Erumpent’s massive head was a long, curved horn protruding from its snout. Hermione knew from experience to be wary of it.
“He was here,” said Ginny, barely able to speak through the stench. “Parker.”
Hermione nodded and cast a non-verbal charm over the beast’s corpse that nullified the odor.
“Thank goodness,” said Ginny, breathing deeply.
“But why would he abandon it?” Hermione asked. “He hadn’t taken the horn or the tail yet.”
The words were just out of her mouth when a figure stepped out from behind a tree, wand pointed at her and Ginny. A second figure, one on all fours, trotted out and began sniffing the Erumpent’s organs.
“Who are you?” demanded Parker. He was a slim young man with short, curly brown hair and an aristocratic British accent. He looked much too small to have brought down the enormous Erumpent. “What do you want?”
“Listen to me,” said Hermione. “We work for the Ministry of Magic. You need to lower your wand.”
“I’m doing nothing wrong!” said Parker, although his guilt was written all over his face. “Leave!”
Hermione saw that the griffin was on a long chain. He seemed perfectly at ease around his captor, a contrast from the struggle he had put up after being caught by Siobhan. Perhaps Parker was drugging him.
“You just poached a protected animal for Class B Tradable Material, which is against Wizarding law,” said Ginny. Her hand was creeping towards her pocket, where she had her wand.
“Listen,” said Hermione. “What we want is that griffin. He is very valuable to a lot of people, some of them international terrorists. If you give him to us now, we might waive the poaching charges.”
She knew immediately that she had said the wrong thing. Parker’s face acquired a crafty look.
“Valuable?” he said. “That’s interesting.”
“Hand over the griffin,” said Ginny forcefully. “And lower your wand.”
Parker smiled and then moved very quickly. Hermione saw his wand arm swing upwards and there was a flash of bright light. A spell whizzed through the air and hit the Erumpent horn.
Hermione had only a split second. Her wand was in her back pocket, unreachable. She needed to perform a Shield Charm. She shouted the incantation as the Erumpent exploded in a red and orange fireball.
Somehow, it worked. The Charm hovered between Hermione and Ginny, protecting them from the worst of the explosion. Hermione was still knocked to the ground, a tree root bruising her arm.
It was over as quickly as it had begun. The smoke cleared and Hermione saw only jungle behind the charred remains of the Erumpent. Parker and the griffin were gone.
Ginny sat up, dazed. “Was that wandless magic?”
“Yes,” said Hermione. “I’ve never done it before.”
She got shakily to her feet. The Shield Charm had worked perfectly, even though she’d never touched her wand. Ron would be impressed when she told him.
“Parker’s gone,” said Ginny. “Damn it. That little git. He probably Apparated before the explosion.”
“He thinks we’re dead,” said Hermione. “And now he knows the griffin’s valuable. Why did I tell him that?”
“It’s not your fault,” said Ginny. “Anyone would have said it.”
Once again, the damned griffin was gone and once again Hermione had no idea where he was.
*
Dispirited by the loss of the griffin, Hermione and Ginny Apparated back through the jungle to the Wizarding village. Parker would not have gone there again; he would have deemed it too risky.
They set up the tent on the outskirts of the town. Ginny said little, clearly tired of the long search for the griffin. Hermione was tired too, exhausted, really. She asked herself over and over why she would ever have embarked on such an idiotic journey. All she had done was make things worse.
Ginny went into the town and arranged for a Portkey for the next day. It would start them on the journey home. There was no point in staying abroad; tracking Parker was impossible. He could be anywhere.
The Portkey would leave at six in the evening the next day. Hopefully, they would be back in England two days of hard traveling later. When they were back they would consult Harry and Ron and they would find another way to tackle the problem.
Hermione went to bed early and woke up late the next morning. To her surprise, Ginny seemed in an excellent mood. She was drinking coffee and reading a correspondence from Harry with a smile.
“What is it?” Hermione asked, still a little groggy.
“They found him!” said Ginny. “Harry and Ron found out that Parker has already contacted O’Malley. He’s giving her the griffin in exchange for fifteen thousand Galleons!”
Hermione was suddenly awake. “What? How could he contact her so quickly?”
“Apparently Parker”his full name’s Abraham Parker”is a pretty shady sort. He goes around the world hunting down magical creatures for a price. He has a lot of contacts in the criminal underworld and O’Malley’s gang found out that he had their Amulet.”
“How could Harry and Ron find this out?” asked Hermione, sitting down.
“I guess there’s a low-level informant in O’Malley’s group that’s been giving them information. He let slip the location of the exchange. They’re meeting in China, two days from now, at sunset. In a place called the Valley of Yao’Tan.”
“If we can get to China in time. . .” said Hermione, getting excited.
“Then we can interrupt the trade and steal the griffin,” said Ginny.
*
“When we get back home I’m never leaving the country again,” said Ginny as she and Hermione stepped to the edge of the cliff and looked out over the Valley.
The trip to the Valley of Yao’Tan had been a tedious one with many Portkey stopovers and various Wizarding customs to go through. They were still traveling through legal channels, but Hermione knew that would have to change when they captured the griffin.
They had no license to transport magical creatures to Britain and even Hermione’s Ministry credentials would not get them far if they tried to get one. There was simply no time.
On the way to China, Hermione had created a powerful Portkey of her own (which was strictly against international law) that would, with luck, transport them as far as France. From there it would be easy to get to London.
During their stop in India, Ginny had purchased a large cage and Hermione had magically collapsed it until it was no larger than a matchbox. It would probably hold the griffin for a while.
It was late in the afternoon of the second day when Hermione and Ginny reached the Valley of Yao’Tan, which was a mountainous location in northwestern China. It was, as its name suggested, a huge valley, entirely uninhabited.
Huge rock formations rose from the valley, enormous natural pillars of stone with flat tops. Vines and creepers wound around the formations. The tops of the stone monoliths were tiny jungles, giving any enemies an excellent hiding place.
Hermione and Ginny were standing on the edge of a great cliff, looking over the hundreds of dowel-shaped towers of rock, each one hundreds of feet high. It made Hermione a little nauseous.
Their cliff was thick with jungle, keeping them well hidden. Hermione pulled a blanket out of her pack and spread it on the forest floor. The trade was supposed to occur at sundown. They still had a few hours to wait.
“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” said Ginny.
Hermione nodded. “Dangerous, too. We won’t be able to see them until they come out into the open.”
Ginny tried the Amulet-detecting spell, which indicated that Parker and the griffin were very close, but their exact location was unclear. Parker was probably blocking the spell somehow. At least they were on the right track.
They had decided beforehand to try to take the griffin before Parker handed it over to Siobhan. Siobhan would have people with her, while Parker would be alone and easier to overpower.
When they were touching the griffin, Hermione would activate the Portkey and escape before either Siobhan or Parker could react. At least, that was the plan.
They waited for a few hours, saying little. The sun was achingly slow in its descent. Hermione just wanted to have the whole thing over with. She wanted to eat real food, sleep in a real bed, see Ron. She’d had enough.
Darkness had just begun to descend over the Valley when Hermione saw movement on the top of the closest stone tower. She squinted and saw two vague figures walking out of the little jungle: Parker and the griffin.
Ginny came over. “Now?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Hermione. “Let’s hurry.”
They both Apparated and arrived on the mountainous rock formation a split second later.
Hermione steadied herself and pointed her wand at Parker, who was clearly shocked by their appearance.
“Stupefy!”
He fell, his limp body dangerously close to the edge of the mountain. Ginny pulled him back roughly and dragged him into the jungle.
The griffin was unfettered and glassy-eyed; Hermione guessed that he had been drugged. She came towards him with her hand outstretched, hoping that he would be too dazed to escape.
She was just about to touch his beak when there was an enormous bang that shook the rock tower. Hermione was flung back into a tree and the griffin took off, wings beating frenziedly.
Hermione saw a small knot of figures assembled on the opposite formation. There was a flash of light and a destructive spell struck the vine-covered side of the mountain, rocking the trees.
Ginny was still on her feet. She shouted an incantation and sent a spell whizzing across the Valley. There was a loud snapping sound and one of their assailants flew up into the air.
They had to get the griffin. Hermione turned and saw that he had landed on another rock tower.
She didn’t hesitate. In an instant, she had Apparated to his side. Thrown off balance, she tripped over a root. The griffin reared, claws scratching the air.
Hermione pointed her wand at the creature and performed an incapacitating spell.
It was as though he had been electrocuted. He screeched and then slumped to the ground, insensible.
Hermione felt a fleeting rush of pure triumph, accompanied by a vicious desire to kick the beast.
Another bang brought her back to her current situation. Ginny was still dueling with Siobhan’s gang from a distance; none of them had Apparated any closer to her.
Hermione signaled her friend, waving her arms and Ginny appeared beside her with a loud crack.
“I’ve got him!” said Hermione. She was fumbling with her pack, trying to extricate the Portkey (an empty soda can).
Ginny opened her mouth to respond before a silvery spell struck her in the stomach. She doubled up, gasping, her eyes wide.
Hermione turned, furious.“Confringo!” she yelled.
The stone tower that Siobhan’s gang had been standing on exploded in a shower of rock fragments. The noise was incredible. Hermione saw several figures flying into the air, sure to be killed when they hit the floor of the Valley.
Ginny was turning a sickly shade of green, but at least she seemed to be breathing. There was no time to examine her; their enemies might reappear.
Hermione got out the Portkey, unwrapped it, handed it to Ginny, grabbed the griffin’s hind leg with her right hand, touched the can with her left and closed her eyes as an invisible hook pulled her into space.
They landed in a heap of bodies. Hermione disentangled herself with difficulty from the griffin’s wings and then helped Ginny to her feet.
They were standing in the middle of a broad field, Hermione’s intended target. They were deep in the French countryside, well away from most Muggles.
“Are you all right?” Hermione asked. Ginny’s eyes were rolling in and she was holding her sides.
“M’all right,” said Ginny. “I don’t know what kind of spell that was””
It looked like a jinx or a hex of some kind to Hermione, possibly a Nausea-Inducing Spell. Whatever it was, Ginny would need medical help of some kind.
Hermione had almost forgotten about the griffin. He was still unconscious, sprawled in the grass with his tongue out. He would be awake soon.
Ginny seemed to have read Hermione’s mind. She got the tiny cage out of her pack and handed it to Hermione, who returned it to its original size. It was now big enough to hold a pony.
With an immense feeling of satisfaction, Hermione Hovered the unconscious griffin into the cage and slammed the door. She padlocked the cage with a smile. Her adversary had lost at last.
She turned around and saw Ginny sitting on the ground, ashen-faced and ill-looking.
“Should you eat something?” Hermione asked.
Ginny shook her head slowly, as though even this small motion cost a lot of energy. Her chin rested on her chest; her eyes closed.
“Ginny! Ginny!”
Hermione shook her shoulders, but Ginny didn’t open her eyes. Her breathing was regular, even calm. She was apparently sleeping.
An unpleasant squawk sounded from the griffin. Hermione Silenced the creature immediately. The last thing she needed was a group of French Muggles being alerted to her presence.
She needed a plan. Ginny had to go to a Wizarding hospital. There were plenty of them in France, but Hermione didn’t know the location of any.
Her only real option was to illegally Apparate into London, drop Ginny at St. Mungo’s and then head to Diagon Alley with the griffin. She couldn’t waste time; Siobhan might be following her trail now.
Hermione grabbed the cage and Ginny’s wrist and turned on her heel. She was going home.
*
Hermione knocked on the door as loudly as she dared. The cage was hovering next to her. She had Silenced the griffin so it wouldn’t waken the other residents of Diagon Alley with its screeches. Its beak was still opening and closing furiously.
She had dropped Ginny off at St. Mungo’s a few hours ago. By that time, Ginny had been almost completely unresponsive, but the nurse at the front desk had assured Hermione that the spell would be easy to counteract.
Now Hermione was on the front stoop of Luna’s clinic. It was her last stop before Grimmauld Place. Her last stop before she could sleep.
After a few moments, the door to the Magical Veterinarian’s Clinic opened and Luna stuck her head out. She was wearing a bathrobe and had clearly been awakened from sleep. It was about two-thirty in the morning, after all.
“Hermione!” Luna seemed pleased, but not particularly surprised. “You caught it!”
“After a while,” said Hermione which was, of course, an enormous understatement.
“Come on in,” said Luna, opening the door wider.
Hermione flicked her wand and the cage hovered into Luna’s office. It barely fit through the door.
The office was surprisingly clean and neat, considering the likely dispositions of most of Luna’s clientele. Hermione let the cage drop to the floor in the waiting room, ignoring the griffin’s frenzied attempts to escape.
“You look terrible,” said Luna casually, bending down to examine the griffin.
It was true. Hermione’s robes were dirty and ripped and the long, half-healed scratch on her cheek would quite probably turn into a scar.
“I’ll tell you all about it later,” said Hermione. She was anxious to have this over with. She sensed that the end was near and she couldn’t wait for it.
“He’s a beautiful specimen,” said Luna, looking the creature over like it was a new sofa. “A little small for a griffin, though.”
“He seems big enough to me,” said Hermione. “Now how do you think we should get it out?”
Luna chewed her lip thoughtfully. “I might have to check my books”” she said slowly.
“Can’t we just”cut it open?” said Hermione. She and the griffin had no love lost between them and she just wanted to have this whole ordeal over with.
“Oh, no,” said Luna. “That might kill him, if it wasn’t done properly.”
This, in Hermione’s opinion, was a small price to pay for the extraordinarily valuable Amulet which she had spent nearly three weeks tracking.
“Besides, griffins have incredibly tough hides,” added Luna. “I don’t think we’d be able to.”
There was a small pause as they both wracked their brains. Hermione tried to remember if she had ever read of a way to extract an ancient magical artifact from the stomach of a griffin. She hadn’t.
“I know!” said Luna brightly. “There’s a potion I could brew that would probably make him vomit it up.”
“Terrific,” said Hermione. Searching through griffin vomit would be a suitable capper to her adventures thus far.
“I have all the ingredients here,” Luna said, turning to rummage in a cupboard. “Do you want something to eat, by the way?”
Hermione realized she was starving. She’d had nothing to eat since that morning.
“Yes. Please. And I’d also like to send an owl to Ron.”
“Quill and parchment are over on the secretary’s desk,” said Luna absentmindedly.
Hermione composed a note to Ron while Luna began fetching ingredients for her potion. She also brought Hermione a small loaf of bread, which Hermione wolfed down as quickly as she could.
By the time Hermione had finished her bread and her note, Luna was brewing a thick black potion in a small cauldron. The griffin had managed to turn its cage over on its side and was now beating its wings against the wire mesh.
“This potion is pretty fast-acting,” said Luna. “But the trouble is we’ll have to get him to drink some.”
This was not a time to discuss tactics. Hermione pointed her wand at the griffin and muttered a long incantation for a complex sleeping charm. In a few seconds the griffin was soundly asleep.
“We’ll have to force it down its throat,” said Hermione. “If that thing escapes again””
“It won’t,” said Luna reassuringly. She dipped a ladle in the potion and sniffed it while Hermione opened up the cage.
Luna brought the ladle to the griffin’s beak and Hermione held its head while the potion poured down its throat. The sleeping charm was so strong that the griffin didn’t even twitch.
“Better get back,” said Luna when the job was done. “The potion works very quickly.”
Hermione jumped back as the griffin began spewing vomit and choking. Hermione heard something hard clink against the floor (which would require a good cleaning in the morning). The Amulet. She bent down to pick it up and was blown off her feet.
The door to the clinic had been forcefully knocked off its hinges in a cloud of gray smoke. Figures dressed in black crowded into the room.
They’d found her.
*
Rough hands steered Hermione out of the clinic; her wand had been wrenched out of her hand. Luna had presumably received similar treatment.
They were thrust to their knees in the dark street, mud soaking through Hermione’s jeans. Diagon Alley was silent and empty. The henchmen stood behind their prisoners, making escape impossible.
Hermione judged there to be four of them, plus Siobhan. The red-haired witch was standing in front of them, dangling the Amulet from her index finger.
It was a surprisingly dull object, made of crudely hammered gold. The chain seemed to have been added as an afterthought. Despite the object’s ugly appearance, Hermione could practically feel the power emanating from it.
“I have to say, Granger, you’ve caused me an exorbitant amount of trouble,” said Siobhan. She sounded a trifle annoyed, like someone who had received the wrong meal at a restaurant. “Much as I enjoyed chasing you halfway around the world, I really would have preferred to have the whole thing simplified.”
The Amulet was swinging back and forth, though there was no wind and Siobhan was not moving her finger. It seemed to sense what was coming.
“You see, I was going to take this Amulet to Ireland,” said Siobhan. “I was going to put it on in the village where I grew up and then I was going to unleash holy hell on it. It was a really excellent plan.
“But you’ve ticked me off, Granger, and I suppose there really is no time like the present. Decimating this quaint little marketplace will still be a lot of fun. My village will get their fair share too, of course. I won’t leave anyone out.”
“Listen to me,” said Hermione. “Whatever you’re planning on doing won’t help you. No matter how many people you kill, no matter what you destroy, you’ll always feel the same pain you feel right now.”
“Very stirring,” said Siobhan. “But I thought you, of all people, would sympathize with me a little more. You’re a Mudblood like me. You know what it’s like to be considered a second-class citizen. The Muggles hate you. The wizards hate you”all of them, even the ones who smile at your face and pretend. You don’t belong anywhere and neither do I.
“Well, actually that’s where this Amulet comes in. I’m going to make a place for myself and it’s going to be on top of everyone else. Then we’ll see how weak the Mudbloods are.”
Siobhan lifted the Amulet and put it around her neck.
Hermione had been expecting something rather dramatic, but the Amulet just lay on Siobhan’s chest like an ugly necklace.
“That’s odd,” said Siobhan. “I don’t feel any different.”
She paced up and down, scanning all the shops. “Oh, Flourish and Blotts. They’re booksellers aren’t they? Should be nice and flammable.”
Siobhan gave her wand a tiny flick and the shop exploded, engulfed in flame.
Hermione tried not to think of all the books that were being destroyed; she needed to keep focused.
“Very nice,” Siobhan said. “This Amulet is all it’s cracked up to be, I guess.”
She made an odd motion with her wand and several gigantic figures made from thick black smoke issued from it. Hermione thought they were huge wolves.
The creatures began racing around the Alley, breaking windows and smashing displays. One even jumped on the roof of the apothecary’s shop and snapped the huge brick chimney off. It fell to the ground, destroying a food vendor’s cart.
Siobhan’s henchmen snickered and Siobhan herself smiled. “Not too bad. Now let’s wait for some people to come out; I want to see what I can come up with. Creativity is one of my strong suits.”
Hermione broke into a sweat. She knew that the shopkeepers and other residents of the Alley would soon be coming out onto the street. If she did something, she would have to do it fast.
A horrible screeching sound started reverberating around the Alley. At first, Hermione thought that Siobhan was producing it, but the Irishwoman was looking around for the source.
The glass window in the front of the magical creatures’ clinic smashed outwards and a blurred shape came streaking out. It landed on the chest of Siobhan’s burliest henchman (Hermione recognized him as the big Russian), knocking him over. The griffin.
Hermione saw her chance. While the henchmen tried to subdue the griffin (who was putting up a terrific fight), she grabbed a wand from the hand of the prone man.
“Relashio!”
One of the lackeys went flying, landing hard against a storefront.
All three of the remaining henchmen were battling the griffin and it was a pretty fair fight. The creature’s wings were buffeting them, his beak was biting them and both sets of his claws were raking the air.
Luna sprang up and managed to get a wand out of the fray.
“Stupefy!”
One of the henchmen slumped and Hermione was just turning on Siobhan when the red-haired witch flung a curse at the griffin.
He was momentarily blasted into the air. He landed on the ground, hard. Hermione was quite sure that he was dead; his wings were at an awkward angle and he didn’t seem to be breathing.
“Bothersome beast,” said Siobhan, as casual as if she was talking about a horsefly. “It was a good way to steal the Amulet, but even the best plans. . .”
Hermione’s wand shot from her hand as though by magnetism; Siobhan had not spoken an incantation.
The henchmen had disarmed Luna and forced her back to the ground. Hermione saw Simpson, the American, among them. She was pleased to see that he had a long, bloody gash down his face.
“Granger, you can’t escape from me,” said Siobhan, walking closer to Hermione. She was only six or seven feet away. “The first time was a momentary oversight and now you don’t have a wand.”
There was a shout and Hermione saw a cluster of people, most of them in dressing gowns, coming down the street. They had no doubt been awakened by the destruction of Flourish and Blotts.
Siobhan’s smoke-beasts bounded towards the newcomers and began attacking them. The Diagon Alley residents began fighting back, though Hermione could see that they were doing little good.
“Not a problem,” said Siobhan, pointing at the wizards and witches battling her creatures. “Neither are you, Granger. In fact, I don’t believe there’s a wizard alive who could take me on right now.”
There was a tremendous bang and the apothecary’s shop crumbled into dust, the entire building reduced to rubble in a split second. Siobhan didn’t so much as flinch.
“Well, maybe Voldemort could have,” said Siobhan, pacing up and down, seemingly at ease. “Even though he hated my kind, he had some of the right ideas. But of course you put a stop to him, didn’t you?”
Hermione didn’t respond. She needed to concentrate.
“But you know what?” said Siobhan. “I’ve got places to be, people to disembowel, countries to take over. I think your time’s run out, Granger.”
She slowly, deliberately pointed her wand in Hermione’s face.
“You’ve made a mistake,” said Hermione. “A really arrogant mistake worthy of a pure-blood.”
“And what’s that?” asked Siobhan.
“You think I’m helpless without a wand,” said Hermione.
The magic she had been building up and restraining just let go, as it had in the Congo. It was not a spell, but a concentrated burst of pure, blue-white magic.
It struck Siobhan in the chest and sent her flying across the length of Diagon Alley, as though propelled by a rubber band. She crashed into the wall of what had once been Florean Fortescue’s ice cream parlor.
Hermione turned around and let out a smaller burst of magic. The henchmen fell to the ground, stunned. Luna collected their wands and handed Hermione hers. Luna seemed only mildly interested in what was going on.
The smoke-creatures had disappeared and the Diagon Alley residents were approaching Siobhan with caution. Hermione ran down the street.
“Get out of the way, I work for the Ministry!”
The people parted and Hermione knelt by Siobhan’s limp body. She was dead, her neck broken.
“What’s going on?” someone wailed.
“What happened to the bookstore?”
Hermione ignored the torrent of questions that followed. She pulled the Amulet off of Siobhan’s neck, breaking the chain. She was going to finish this.
The Amulet felt like a big warm lump in her hand. She could feel the power and old magic trapped within it.
“Let me through!” Hermione yelled at the crowd. “Someone contact the Department of Magical Law Enforcement!”
She went down a dark bystreet and touched the Amulet with the tip of her wand. For an instant, her wand glowed, its power amplified by contact with the Amulet.
“Pulvis.”
The Amulet quivered for a moment, as though something was trying to hatch out of it. Then, with a brief burst of golden light, it was reduced to a pile of ash in Hermione’s palm. She opened her hand and dumped the dusty remains of the Amulet onto the ground.
*
“Now can I sleep?” asked Hermione. She was snuggled with Ron on the couch. She had recited the entire dismal story and was now more than ready to crawl into bed for the next year or two.
“You certainly deserve it,” said Ron. “I mean, Hermione, wandless magic was even difficult for Dumbledore””
“It was hard,” said Hermione. “I’m sure I couldn’t have done it if I wasn’t in danger. I should probably find out how Ginny’s doing before I go to bed, don’t you think?”
“Mum sent word a little while before you turned up,” said Ron. “She’s fine. They’ve counteracted the hex and they’re only keeping her tonight for observation.”
“Good,” said Hermione. Her eyelids slid downwards and the world became fuzzy and slanted.
“I have one question,” said Ron.
“Just one,” said Hermione. “I won’t be able to stay awake for any more.”
“Why did you go after the griffin in the first place?” he asked. “It wasn’t your job, but you wanted to do it anyway.”
“I guess that I just wanted”time to think,” said Hermione.
There was a pregnant pause.
“About us?”
“A little,” admitted Hermione. “With the wedding so close, I just wanted to be by myself. One last time.”
“And?” said Ron. He was almost smiling.
“I hatedit,” said Hermione. “All I could think of the whole time was how much I wanted you there.”
“So no pre-wedding cold feet?” Ron asked, sounding a little relieved.
“Absolutely not,” said Hermione. “How about you?”
“Are you kidding?” said Ron. “After what you just told me? My”um,” he tripped over the word, “wife will have saved the country on her own. That’s definitely a selling point.”
Hermione smiled and opened her mouth to respond, but warm darkness was upon her before she could get out the first syllable.
She was asleep.