“Tonight, we will be retrieving Harry from the Dursleys,” Moody said in his gravelly voice. “We’ll be bringing him back here, to the Burrow, but of course we don’t want You-Know-Who to know that so we’ll be creating a bit of a diversion.”

Hermione had arrived at the Burrow that morning along with many of the other Order members. Immediately she’d been swept up into a hug by Ginny before Mrs. Weasley forced a plate of food upon her.

Most of the day had been spent in the quiet stillness of the grounds around the Burrow – helping Ginny feed the chickens while they quietly discussed everything that had happened since they were apart… Save for what had happened the night before.

It appeared that somehow Ginny already knew when she drew the bag of grain from Hermione’s arms and pulled her into another tight embrace.

“I see the weight – the guilt – that you’re carrying Hermione,” Ginny said softly. “You didn’t know… you’re still a good person.”

Hermione clutched at Ginny’s shirt, her face pressing into her friend’s shoulder as she huffed a laugh.

“A good person? I’m a murderer, Gin. I’ve killed people – and not just Death Eaters – innocent people. How does that make me a good person?”

Ginny pulled back, her blue eyes bright with the same fire she often saw in Ron but it was not temper – it was determination.

“You would have never carried out that mission had you known. You thought you were doing good , Mione.”

Hermione shook her head.

“I was blind,” she said softly.

“You were manipulated – there’s a difference,” Ginny said firmly. “What are you going to do?”

If she was honest… Hermione didn’t know. She’d been so grateful when she’d realized that there wouldn’t be another opportunity to see the Dark Lord before she left for the Burrow. But she knew better than to think there was anything she could do other than ask more questions in the future, remembering what Sirius had once said about his brother Regulus.

You don’t just hand in your resignation to the Dark Lord. You’re in it for life.

For life.

So she’d merely shrugged at Ginny and gone back to feeding the chickens. Wandering around outside the house until Mrs. Weasley had called them in for an early supper and meeting with the rest of the crew that was set to retrieve Harry.

“We’ll be using Polyjuice potion,” Moody continued. “To create seven different Potters.”

There was a murmur around the table, some people appeared impressed by this decision while others – namely Mundungus Fletcher and Fleur – did not look too pleased.

Hermione could only imagine the chaos that would ensue.

“I’ll be takin’ Harry on Sirius’ motorbike,” Hagrid said in his gruff tone from his magically reinforced chair. He took up more than half the kitchen with his wide shoulders and bushy hair.

“I’ll be taking Fleur,” Bill Weasley said, shooting a grin at his fiancé who quite literally glowed back at him.

“I’ve got you, Ron!” Tonks said brightly, throwing Ron a wink.

Beside her, she heard Ron gulp. It was widely known that though Tonks was a very good auror and Moody’s protégé, she was a bit of a klutz which was definitely influencing Ron’s nerves.

As the rest of the pairings continued to be called out, Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if she would be included. What would be expected of her when they ran into Death Eaters? Would Lucius be up there? Theo? Draco ? How would she be able to explain if she didn’t fight – or even tried to save them?

“Hermione, you will be with me,” Kingsley Shacklebolt said, his kind brown eyes focusing on her from across the table.

She’d met Kingsley a few times and had to admit she liked him very much. He was a tall, regal looking Black man who had a calm, reassuring voice and was always outfitted in a set of impressive robes. From what she had gathered from both sides, he was also a formidable fighter.

Weakly she returned his reassuring smile, hoping he chalked it up to nerves.

“How… how will we be getting back here?” Ron asked tentatively. “Brooms?”

Hermione internally groaned. If she was expected to not only fly on a broom but fight, there was no way she would be making it out of this unscathed.

But maybe that would just make things easier , a dark voice inside her whispered.

“Not just brooms,” Moody answered impatiently as if Ron had asked a stupid question. “Aside from Hagrid on that motorbike, a few of the pairings will also be taking thestrals.”

“Thought you’d prefer that, Hermione,” Kingsley said kindly.

“Thanks,” she mouthed to him.

It was true, between the two she preferred thestrals – especially since she could see them now, as morbid as the relief was.

Moody began to explain the different methods of transportation and assigned each of the Order members duties to complete either before leaving or upon arrival to the Dursleys.

“Granger, you’ll be the one responsible for getting his hair,” Moody barked.

“What, why?” Ron asked confusedly.

“Because he’ll most certainly argue, Ron,” Hermione said, cutting over whatever grumbling Moody was about to begin. “Do you really think Harry will willingly allow us to take on his appearance when there’s a potential for danger?”

Ron appeared to deflate a bit.

“Ah. Yeah. That’s true. But then how will you convince him?”

Hermione couldn’t help but grin as she focused back on Moody.

“I’ll just take it, of course.”

…

Though Hermione had understood what awaited them when they left the Dursleys, it was nothing compared to the pandemonium that broke out the moment they took to the sky.

Everywhere she looked were Death Eaters, flying too fast to be able to get an idea of who was who. She’d had no time to send a message to Draco that they’d be using Polyjuice or that she was paired with Kingsley and therefore was being attacked just as the rest of the Potters were.

I guess I don’t have to worry about looking suspicious , she thought to herself as she deflected hex after hex.

“Nice one, Hermione,” Kingsley complimented as Hermione shot up a shield over both of them, repelling a particularly nasty looking hex on to one of the Death Eaters that pursued them.

Her heart was thrumming through her chest as she clutched to the back of Kingsley’s robes. There was nothing she wanted more than to bury her face into his back until they’d touched down within the protective enchantments around the Burrow, but she couldn’t. She had to stay alert – had to fight.

Even if that meant she was potentially fighting her family.

With each jinx she sent or hex she repelled, she chanted over and over in her mind:

Please don’t be one of them.

Please don’t be one of them.

Please don’t be one of them.

But then, there was a swirl of darkness that swallowed them, making them blind to the night and the wizards around them. Hermione blinked, trying to see through the black clouds before a skeletal, white face emerged from the darkness.

“ Voldemort!” Kingsley cried, leaning forward on the thestral to urge it to fly faster.

The Dark Lord appeared to be flying without means of broom or creature, his ruby red eyes fixed upon Hermione’s. A small, cruel smile split his face as he raised his wand.

Oh no. Merlin no. He thought she was the real Harry.

It took only a second to leap into his mind while her body still clung to Kingsley’s.

Inside was no handsome Tom Riddle waiting for her as he had in the past. Instead, it was merely the Dark Lord as he was now… Lord Voldemort.

“It’s me,” Hermione’s mental form panted. “It’s polyjuice. It’s me.”

Voldemort’s eyes widened in surprise before he nodded.

“I see,” was all he said before he thrust her from his mind.

Like a rubber band snapping, she gasped, her eyes blinking furiously against the dark night.

The dark, quiet, empty night where she and Kingsley were very much alone.