Atoning

That night, I dreamed I was a snake.

I was gliding down a hallway, looking for something. But someone was in the way. Remove the threat!

I struck, once, twice, ripping, biting, gashing. A silvery cloak fell off the man; I had seen them before, some of my master's servants had them . . .

My head, chest, and abdomen hurt . . .

I was abruptly awake. Panting and disoriented, I lie still for a moment, trying to figure out what had happened.

Arthur! I suddenly realized. That had been Arthur Weasley. But where? And why?

Get to Dumbledore, I told myself. I threw on my robes, stuffed my feet into my shoes - the nice thing about sleeping with socks on was that they allowed for situations just like this in addition to keeping my feet warm - and ran out the door.

I avoided Filch on my way to Dumbledore's office, though I did pass a thoroughly spooked Neville - if I'd had time, I would have asked him what was happening, but Arthur Weasley was dying in a mysterious corridor and I wouldn't allow the Weasleys to lose a father or Dumbledore to lose an Order member - and shouted the password when I had barely turned the corner to his office. The great stone gargoyle leapt out of the way, and I took the spiral stairs two at a time. I opened Dumbledore's door without knocking, silencing the voices I registered belatedly - but only Dumbledore was in the office.

"Hermione," he said, genteelly surprised. "What brings you here at such a late hour?"

"Arthur Weasley," I panted. "Is he on guard duty?"

Dumbledore blinked at me, taken by surprise.

"I'll take that as a yes. Send someone to check on him, please, I believe he's just been attacked by Voldemort's snake."

"Everard,if you would be so kind?"

"But of course," one of the portraits answered; a man walked out of his frame. He returned quickly, just as there was a knock at the door. "He's there, and he's hurt."

"Dilys," Dumbledore said softly. "Hermione, if you would? It's best for you to remain undiscovered."

I hid behind one of the hangings on the walls of the office and hurriedly worked a Notice-Me-Not Charm as Dumbledore called, "Enter."

McGonagall, Ronald, and Potter entered as a portrait of a woman left her frame.

"What brings you all here at such a late hour?" Dumbledore asked them. I suddenly wondered if he greeted everyone that way.

"Please - it's Mr. Weasley - he's been attacked -" Harry began.

"I know," Dumbledore said quietly. "It has been attended to. If you will give me just one moment . . . Minerva, if you would please collect the rest of the Weasleys? And . . . ah . . ." - a piercing alarm went off - "head Dolores off if you would, tell her any story; she knows they're out of bed."

McGonagall jerked her head in a nod, and I realized she was scared. I knew that door was extremely important, though I didn't know why. I didn't think anyone but Dumbledore did.

As soon as McGonagall returned with Fred, George, and Ginevra, Dumbledore handed them the Portkey he had just made and sent them to Grimmauld Place.

McGonagall sat in one of Dumbledore's visitor chairs. Now that she thought there were no students around, she began to lose her composure.

"Albus," she said, "how did he know it would be guarded?"

"I don't believe he did," Dumbledore answered. "I think he sent Nagini to test the defenses around the Department of Mysteries."

"What does he want so badly?" she whispered.

"Some things, Minerva, it is better not to know." Dumbledore suddenly looked very old and very tired, and I wondered how old he was.

"Albus," she said in what sounded like disbelief. "You won't tell us what's behind that door. You won't tell us why he guards that snake so closely. You won't tell us why you're acting like Potter is the only one who matters. You won't even tell us who Rose really is. So many secrets!" She had worked herself into anger. "How can you expect us to lay down our lives for you when you won't tell us what we're laying them down for? How do you know you can trust Rose? We've never even seen her face! You've brought in a vigilante! None of us know if we can count on her!"

"You're right, Minerva," Dumbledore said. "I have been keeping secrets from you. From all of you. Things are far too interconnected to make sense in a vacuum. It would take the better part of a year to explain everything. I, myself, am not sure of it all; most is conjecture, but I will tell you what I know, and then you will understand why I was reluctant to do so.

"Voldemort is after a prophecy that predicts his downfall. He currently knows only the first part of it, but wants to know the rest."

"What is the first part of the prophecy?" McGonagall asked impatiently. I bit my hand to keep from laughing aloud; an eager McGonagall was quite a sight to see. Dumbledore's eyes flickered over to the tapestry I was hiding behind for a fraction of a second.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches," Dumbledore began heavily. "Born to those who thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. That is as much as Voldemort heard before his spy was interrupted."

"And you think Potter is the one the prophecy refers to?" McGonagall asked. At Dumbledore's nod, she said, "That is utter nonsense. Very few prophecies come true, and those that do are so vague anything could have happened!"

"The prophecy has already begun to bear fruit," Dumbledore said. "The prophecy continues, And the Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal. Harry's scar, Minerva. Voldemort believes in the Prophecy, which means he will continue to target Harry. As long as he targets Harry, as long as he believes Harry is the only one able to beat him, Harry will be his primary focus. That is why I am behaving this way: Harry needs more protection than he realizes."

"So," McGonagall said furiously, "you're using him - a fifteen-year-old boy - as bait for the most vicious, bloodthirsty Dark Lord in history? Is that what you're saying?"

"I also happen to believe the prophecy is correct," Dumbledore said. "Once a prophecy has begun, it will follow through until the bitter end. Either Harry will kill Voldemort or Voldemort will kill Harry. There is no other ending."

I bit my hand again, this time to choke back a shriek of denial, or perhaps anger. Damn Dumbledore. Damn that bloody prophecy.

McGonagall sat in silence while the truth sank in. Her anger had waned.

"Why him?" she asked at last.

"I believe it had something to do with his family history. Tell me, Minerva, did you ever James cold?"

She thought a moment. "I don't believe so. What does this have to do with anything?"

"It has everything to do with everything. You have just confirmed my suspicions of something, however, so I shall let that lie for the moment.

"Your next objection, if I remember correctly, was to not knowing who Rose is? Not knowing if she is truly on our side."

"Right," McGonagall said firmly.

"I have given her my most solemn vow to never reveal her identity without her full permission," Dumbledore told her. "I would not have done so had I not known her well. If you are still uneasy, perhaps I can persuade her to reveal herself." He was looking at the tapestry I was hiding behind. "What say you?"

I realized he was talking to me. I considered quickly. Another ally meant another person who could give me away - but it also meant another person who could give me an alibi.

I tapped my throat with my wand. "Make an Unbreakable Vow that you will never inform anyone of who I am without my prior consent," I said in my Rose voice.

"She's here?" McGonagall demanded, aghast. "She heard all that?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said gravely. "She brought me news of the attack on Arthur minutes before you did."

"How did she know?" McGonagall demanded.

"The Vow," I reminded her.

"Is it really necessary?" she asked.

"When I reveal myself, you will know why," I said.

"Oh - very well," she said irritably. "But we'll need a sealer."

"I would be happy to be the sealer," Dumbledore said. "Rose?"

I conjured a black cloth to obscure my face and stepped out of hiding, taking off the Notice-Me-Not Charm as I did so. McGonagall jumped to see me appear from nowhere. "You're not wearing your mask," she observed.

"My first thought was to get to Dumbledore," I said. "The mask was the last thing on my mind."

The Vow took a very short time to complete. As soon as the last ribbon snaked out of Dumbledore's wand and twisted around McGonagall's hand, she snapped, "Now what's the big secret?"

I raised my hands slowly and noticed they were shaking. I braced myself for her reaction as I gripped the cloth and ripped it off in one fluid motion. It vanished before it hit the floor.

McGonagall had gone white with shock. She stared at me for a moment, then jerked around to face Albus. "This is a joke!" she insisted.

"It is not," I said. "I am the Rose."

"I - but - what - I don't -"

I felt bad for her. Professor McGonagall was not used to being shocked.

"Professor," I said, but she was having none of it.

"No. I can't believe this. Hermione, who put you up to this?"

"No one put me up to this," I said softly. "This is who I am."

"No one is a killer by nature," she snapped at me.

"Not even Voldemort?" I snapped back.

She looked taken aback for the second time in as many minutes. "Did you really just compare yourself to Voldemort?" she asked, stunned.

"If you think about it, we're a lot alike."

"Hermione," Dumbledore said. "You are not like Voldemort."

"The only difference between us," I said, "is that I know I'm a monster. He can fool himself into thinking he's not."

"You also don't kill parents," Dumbledore pointed out. "You don't go after entire families because of their Muggle heritage. He kills to kill. You kill to save."

"But in the end, people are still dead. Reasons don't matter, results do. The end result is the same, so we are the same."

"Putting that aside," McGonagall interrupted, "how did this happen? Why did you start doing this over the summer?"

"Ah," I sighed heavily. "That's a bit complicated. Put simply, I didn't know what I was doing. I was having dreams of blood and fighting, but I thought they were just dreams. I put everything together in September. Once I figured it out . . . well . . . " I spread my arms helplessly. "I couldn't stop, not when it needed to be done." I yawned. All my emotions had drained suddenly, leaving me exhausted. Looking at the clock, I saw it was almost three.

Dumbledore caught my glance. "Go back to bed, Hermione," he told me.

I gratefully obeyed. It had been a very, very long night.