Harry fell asleep that night feeling out of sorts after his unexpected visit to Headquarters. He hadn’t been ready to face 12 Grimmauld Place without Sirius’s easy smile and the camaraderie that had existed between them. Remus had tried to help, as had Hermione, but Sirius’s death was still too fresh in Harry’s mind. He fell into restless dreams of the Ministry and prophesies and Sirius being tortured beyond the veil, Harry desperate but unable to reach his godfather.

Harry awoke to flashing orange lights and the sound of an owl hooting insistently. “Hedwig?” he mumbled. Then realization struck: The wards around the house were under attack. He leapt from his bed, threw open his window and released Hedwig with an urgent command: “Alert the order.” Then he raced around his room, jamming his glasses on his face, grabbing his wand, and throwing his invisibility cloak over himself while stuffing his feet into the charmed boots Snape had given him for his birthday.

Where was Hermione?

His heart raced as the seconds ticked by. He cursed the plan they had come up with as feeble at best, fatal at worst. His instructions were clear—stay in his room, hidden under his invisibility cloak, no matter what. Hermione had been insistent on this point, and Snape downright lethal in his threats to Harry should he disobey.

Yet every instinct screamed for Harry to go and help Hermione hide her parents, to fight the Death Eaters who were there to kill as many Muggleborns and their families as they could—to root out what Voldemort’s supporters had deemed illegitimate lineages. It was unlikely they would expect to find Harry there; chances were it was a random raid. And yet, how could he leave his best friend to fend for herself?

Hermione clung to the wall, trying to keep her breathing steady and her trembling limbs moving forward. The green beams of light and the yowling cat screams that had awoken her had been replaced by orange and then red strobe lights—signalling that the wards had not only been tested, they had been breached. And then an eerie silence had followed. The Death Eaters would gain entry to the house any minute.

Wand gripped tightly in her hand, she rushed down the hallway, careful to walk along the rugs to avoid the sounds of creaking floor boards or missteps. Her mission was to retrieve her parents, lock them in the bathroom and ward it—which would cause her parents to be transported to safety at the Burrow, get to Harry, and get out of the house.

It had sounded like such a sound plan at the time, but as the seconds ticked by, it seemed foolhardy at best. The bathroom was at the top of the stairs. She and her parents would be in plain sight of any Death Eaters scoping out the upper floor.

Hermione jumped at the sound of a muffled sob. Quickening her pace, she reached for her parents’ door, heart in her throat. Her mother stood there, white-faced and shaking, clinging to her father’s arm.

“This way,” Hermione whispered, motioning for them to follow her. She led with her wand arm, ready to curse anyone who might get in her way. Her mother started making a keening sound, and Hermione hissed at her to keep quiet. The bathroom was only three steps away, two, one…

BANG!

The sound of the front door being blasted off its hinges echoed through the night.

Mrs. Grainger screamed, and Mr. Granger tried to push both his wife and his daughter behind him.

“There’s no time,” Hermione hissed, shoving her parents into the bathroom. Any moment now, the Death Eaters would be at the bottom of the stairs. “Get in and lock the door!”

“Hermione,” Mr. Granger pleaded at the same time that Mrs. Granger reached for her daughter.

“Not now!” Hermione whined, grabbing the door to pull it shut. In her haste, the door slammed. All sounds of the rummaging Death Eaters below stopped. Hermione cursed her stupidity and raised her wand to ward the door.

But in that instant, thundering footsteps approached the stairs and curses started flying. Hermione knew she had to make a choice: Save her parents, or save Harry and herself.

And in that moment of indecision, two things happened: A flash of orange light ricocheted off the door plate and caught Hermione in the shoulder and Hermione heard her name called out by none other than Harry Potter—Harry who was supposed to stay hidden and silent no matter what.

Searing pain shot down her arm while the scent of burning flesh filled the air. Hermione fell against the bathroom door, aiming a curse at the masked man running up the stairs.

“HERMIONE, RUN!”

Wand in hand, Hermione turned from the bathroom door and ran towards Harry, who stood silhouetted in the guest bedroom doorway, no invisibility cloak in sight.    

“Harry, my parents,” Hermione cried as she ran toward him. “I didn’t ward the door…”

Two death eaters burst onto the landing and both Harry and Hermione aimed spells at them.

“Protego!” Hermione shouted, while grabbing Harry with her injured arm and trying to pull him back into the guest bedroom. Getting in and shutting the door would buy them only a moment of time, but any advantage was better than none.

Except that Harry wasn’t budging; he was fighting, leaving Hermione no choice but to do the same.

One of Harry’s curses hit one of the Death Eaters, who froze mid-curse, momentarily disabled. Harry turned and screamed something, but Hermione was too busy with the other Death Eater to hear what it was. Then two more dark wizards reached the top of the stairs as the Death Eater that Harry disabled regained his ability to fight.

Outnumbered now, Hermione pulled harder on Harry, desperate to get a door between them. Harry didn’t resist; in fact, he was already falling backward, his weight dragging Hermione with him.

Dread coursed through her at the realization that Harry’d been hit. As spells flew all around them and bits of plaster and stone rained down upon them, Hermione’s desperation peaked. She did the only thing she could think of that might work.

“Fiende Flamare,” she rasped out, pointing her wand at floor in front of them.

Wild, hungry flames shot toward the ceiling, creating a momentary wall between Harry, herself, and their attackers. Swallowing back her despair, Hermione pulled the invisibility cloak from beneath Harry and threw it over the both of them. Her arms shook as she crawled down Harry’s still form.

The Death Eaters bellowed, shooting curses at the flame wall in an effort to find a way through. She knew they wouldn’t be able to douse the fire; no one would—it would devour the entire house and everyone in it. But they would probably be able to get through it before it engulfed everything.

The flames parted and, just as a Death Eater plunged through the gap, Hermione reached Harry’s boots and, with shaking hands, slammed them together three times.

The flashing lights of the curses fired in their direction reflected on the backs of her eyelids as she felt herself and Harry being sucked away.

Hermione cried out as her injured arm was compressed between Harry’s body and a hard, stone floor.

“Harry,” she gasped, pulling her arm out from under him and cradling it. “Harry, wake up."

But Harry didn’t move. Hermione looked around in desperation, quickly cataloguing the long wooden table and benches to her right, the large fireplace to her left. They were in the kitchen of the Order of the Phoenix. A piercing sound alerted her to the fact that their arrival had triggered some sort of alarm.

“Oh, Harry, please wake up,” Hermione moaned, shaking his shoulder.

But Harry lay still, his face pale.

Fear spiked through Hermione as she fought the tears that came to her eyes. As she stared at Harry’s chest, hoping to see the tell-tale rise and fall of inflating lungs, a small bump caught her attention—the pendant!

Shoving her hand down Harry’s shirt, she whipped out the pendant, flipped it over, and used her fingernail to trace the message that she hoped would save Harry’s life. Just as she’d finished, a door on the other side of the room burst open. A slender man with a sallow, wan face and a woman with bright purple hair rushed in.

“Professor Lupin, Tonks,” Hermione sobbed, “Thank Merlin you’re here. Harry’s not breathing, and my parents… my parents…”

Lupin already had his wand out and fell to his knees beside Harry, muttering something over him as Tonks wrapped Hermione in her arms. “Shhh…” Tonks calmed her, “Tell us what happened.”

“Death Eaters,” Hermione lamented. “They came to my house. I don’t think they knew Harry was there. Not at first.” Hermione paused and bit back a sob. “But then he came to help me and we were fighting, and one of them hit Harry with a curse. I don’t know what it was. We were outnumbered, and I had to… I had to… use fiendfyre…”

A loud crash sounded as a kitchen door was blown off its hinges. Everyone’s attention jumped to the towering dark man storming into the room.

“Out of my way!” Snape bellowed. His wand was already in motion, spells flying from his lips as everyone jumped to move aside.

“I’m sorry,” Hermione whimpered, “I tried to protect him. I did, but there were so many of them, and he was falling, and I…”

“Silence!” Snape hissed, not turning his attention from Harry.

Harry’s lips were blue now, and his face had lost all color. His pallor was terrifying. Hermione buried her face in Tonks’s shoulder and sobbed even harder.