Hermione stiffened and looked up quickly.
Poppy met her gaze steadily. “I'm no fool. I've suspected for long time what kinds of spells you've been using in order to deconstruct and stop some of those curses from Sussex so quickly. You — you—”
Poppy's voice cut off, and she pressed her lips together for several seconds, her mouth trembling. She drew a deep breath. “Dark Magic is cumulative. Mind or body, it exacts a price. I haven't said anything until now because I know you understand the toll better than I do.” She placed a tentative hand on Hermione's shoulder. “You must know you're reaching the point where the damage is becoming irreversible.”
Hermione's mouth twitched, and she looked away, noting the privacy spells that had been cast on the room.
“I know.”
She stared down at her hands. “I — it wasn't — it didn't used to—” She fell silent and her hand rose subconsciously to her throat, fidgeting with the empty chain there. She shook her head. “Never mind. It doesn't matter.”
She looked up at Poppy with a wan smile. “I'll stop when the war is over. I'll stop. I promise. And, I'll see a mind healer too.”
Poppy gave sad sigh and nodded, rubbing small circles on Hermione's back. “All of you children should see mind healers. You and Harry especially. I wish I'd pushed Albus harder about having Harry taken to St Mungo's.”
Hermione blinked and furrowed her eyebrows. “What do you mean?”
“Oh.” Poppy gave another sigh, and her exhaustion grew visible in her face. “During Harry's first year, after that unfortunate situation with Professor Quirrell, when I first examined Harry, I became concerned about his magical signature. It was irregular, almost as though he had two.”
“Two?” Hermione echoed, a cold creeping sensation slowly bleeding over her, as though there was ice sliding through her veins.
“Yes. I'd never seen anything like it before. I went to Albus. He said it must be from the Killing Curse all those years before, that it must have split off a small piece of Harry's signature. It's such shame no one thought to have him examined as a baby before he was left with his relatives. Albus looked at the diagnostics himself and said it was nothing to be concerned with. When I pushed, he said Harry would likely be subjected to extensive and traumatic examination at St Mungo's by researchers wanting to use him to study the Killing curse. Albus said he thought the issue would resolve itself eventually. It seemed that it did, over the years the signatures appeared to rebond.”
Poppy tilted her head to the side thoughtfully. “But — with all the headaches he suffers from, I wonder if perhaps it didn't happen properly.”
Hermione felt as though she'd been struck.
“There were two magical signatures? Not a residual curse signature and a magical signature?” Hermione said sharply.
“Magical,” Poppy said as she nodded and pulled out the chair beside Hermione. She sat down with a sigh. “I tried to find record of a similar phenomena in healing history, but there's nothing like it that I could find. Then again, Harry is the only person who ever survived the Killing Curse.”
Hermione's hands started trembling. “You said — I asked you about his magical signature years ago. You said it was fine. That it was normal for Harry.”
Poppy rested her hand gently on Hermione's shoulder again. “I didn't want you to worry. By the time you asked, they were almost entirely bonded back together.”
Hermione's mouth twitched, and she struggled to find words to ask the next question. “So it was the same signature? The smaller piece was identical?”
“Not exactly. Due to the split, Albus said it developed uniquely—”
Hermione stood up so abruptly her chair fell backwards, clattering on the stone floor. “That's not how it works. Magical signatures are soul-based, they don't — develop differently. I have to go.”
She fled the kitchen and raced upstairs to grab her cloak and satchel and then ran out the door of Grimmauld Place before anyone could stop her.
She apparated with a hard crack and reappeared in the designated spot in the Forbidden Forest that the Order has chosen for approaching Hogwarts.
The castle stood in the distance. Even from where she stood, she could smell the Dark Magic in the air, mixed with the metallic tang of the explosion. She started toward the castle as quickly as she could.
“Granger?” A broad-shouldered Resistance fighter appeared from next to a tree, a disillusionment charm fading away.
She looked over at him sharply. She recognized him vaguely but not well enough to know his name.
“What are you doing here, Granger?”
“I need to see Harry.” She stared at him, gripping her wand so tightly she could feel the wood biting into the bones in her hand. Her whole body felt cold. “I came because I need to see Harry.”
The man looked bewildered. “He's at the castle. Everyone moved in. There's no one out here but scouts to keep watch.”
Hermione swallowed hard and nodded. “Then I'll go to the castle.”
They made their way to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. She could see the Astronomy Tower, smoking and damaged from the blast. They stopped near several heavily disillusioned tents.
“Hermione, what are you doing here?” Angelina came out of a tent.
“I need to see Harry.”
“Now? Can't this wait until tonight?”
Hermione scoffed. “If it could wait I wouldn't have just apparated five hundred miles.”
“Alright. Fine. I'll send word. Stay here at camp. We'll send a few people in to get the message to Harry.”
Hermione swallowed and resigned herself to waiting. There was a burning sensation in the pit of her stomach.
It felt like hours. Hermione joined the field healers in the tent, healing the injured fighters and determining who needed to be sent on to Grimmauld Place.
She got snatches of reports on how things were going closer to the castle. After the bomb went off, the wards had collapsed entirely. The Resistance had moved in quickly. The attack had taken the prison entirely off-guard. Beyond the wards the security was surprisingly lax. The guards had fallen back.
The Resistance currently held the Entrance Hall and the Great Hall. They were trying to strengthen their foothold before the inevitable counterstrike.
There was a nervous energy over how well the attack had gone so far. Harry and the team that had snuck into Hogwarts during the initial attack still had not reappeared.
The air in the tent felt suffocating, filled with the scent of blood, residual Dark Magic, and potions. The salty, coppery tang of blood mixed with spent magic burned in her nose.
Hermione worked silently, her eyes sweeping frequently over to the opening of the tent, looking for Harry.
Finally the tent flap was shoved aside, and Harry burst in, followed by Ron and Fred. Her heart jumped into her throat as she caught sight of Harry's pale face.
You should have known. He's your best friend, you should have realised.
“Hermione, what's going on?”
Hermione hurried across the tent towards Harry. As soon as he was within reach, her fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt.
“We got word you were here when we rejoined the main force in the castle.” Harry was covered in dust and grime. He rubbed at his face and left a band of soot across his forehead. “What are you doing here? Did something happen to Ginny?”
“No.” Hermione shook her head sharply. “No. Ginny is fine. She's back at Grimmauld Place. Come with me, there's a smaller tent over this way.”
Harry gave a visible sigh of relief and followed her. His pensive mood had vanished. His eyes were clear. He had an air of intense focus about him, the way he had been when playing Quidditch.