Secrets and Masks

O1. Don't get caught

18th November,9 years after the Battle of Hogwarts.

Silence.

Nothing.

Not a fucking sound.

Hermione took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and pressed herself into the stone wall behind her. She trained her ears on the quiet, waiting for the footsteps she knew were on their way towards her.

She just needed a second. Just a moment to catch the Death Eaters off guard and steal the artefact they carried. She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they were moving it today. Knew this could be a chance to change the tide of the war, to wipe the slate clean and give the Order a new lease of life; a fighting chance - Merlin knew they needed it.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Neville whispered from beside her, his voice croaking nervously. "Are you sure they're moving it tonight?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"I just am!" Hermione snapped, irritation prickling at her chest. She wished Neville would just shut up, now was not the time for a conversation.

She knew the artefact was being moved tonight, and was certain there would only be five Death Eaters guarding it.

Voldemort was trying something new. Likely thought fewer numbers would draw less attention, and therefore lower the risk of any unwanted interference.

The artefact was being moved through a series of underground tunnels just outside of Derbyshire. A secret labyrinth-like maze with countless connections, which could lead to Chatsworth House, disused coal mines, or even as far as Sheffield. A perfect way to avoid being seen, but also an opportunity for the Order to sabotage them. Trap them in a maze like rats and steal the artefact. It was simply too good an opportunity to miss.

Hermione knew it was being transported tonight, because Medusa had told her.

Medusa, she snorted internally. What a ridiculous code name for a spy.

Medusa, the beauty who was seduced by Poseidon in the temple of Athena. Medusa, who enraged the Goddess so much, she punished her the only way she saw fit - by transforming her into a monster. Changing her hair into snakes, and giving her eyes so deadly they turned men to stone as soon as they looked upon her.

She had wondered if the mole was trying to be poetic. Metaphorical, even. If they were trying to demonstrate that they, too, had been seduced by Voldemort, by his power and promises of inconceivable strength. Whored themselves for him. Sold their souls to the devil in exchange for riches and wealth beyond imagination, and turned themselves into a monster in the process.

As much as she resented this ridiculous façade, Hermione couldn't deny that Medusa's intelligence was never wrong. They'd proven, time and time again, that they were incredibly useful to The Order. 'A valuable asset', 'irreplaceable' Shacklebolt had said. 'Of Unparalleled usefulness.'

She supposed her own code name, Lilith, wasn't that ambiguous either.

She'd picked it carefully, and purposefully. Lilith, the first woman, created for Adam in the garden of Eden. The woman who believed she was equal to Adam, and therefore she didn't need to lay beneath him. She wouldn't, in fact. Wouldn't bend to lower herself. She was strong, immovable in her beliefs.

They were qualities that Hermione always strove for in herself. Her Gryffindor courage and stubbornness had always planted her in the spot; unshakable in her beliefs that The Order had to win, that good had to conquer evil, and the war must end.