A Second Channe Through Time

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Page count: 15

Sirius' Apartment - Friday 5th March 1982

It had been a month since the meeting at the Burrow and the discussion about destroying the locket. They had planned to retrieve it from Grimmauld two weeks prior, but that had been derailed the moment Kingsley and the Prewett twins informed Hermione that Dumbledore's paranoia had spiked sharply. Tracking spells had increased. Surveillance had intensified. She was being shadowed constantly.

They needed caution. They couldn't risk being followed.

Instead, Hermione had been trapped inside the apartment, poring over the same three books on Unforgivable Curses—again and again—searching for anything she might have missed. Anything that would explain how Harry had survived Voldemort's Killing Curse without Lily's sacrifice.

Two weeks.

The same words. The same diagrams. The same theories. No answers.

She snapped the book shut with a sharp crack.

Enough.

She'd only left the apartment twice—for food shopping. They couldn't Floo anywhere; she'd detected tracing spells embedded in their network. They couldn't Apparate; their magical signatures could be tracked. They couldn't even step outside the building without shadows trailing them.

The Aurors who used to track her were gone—replaced with strangers whose loyalties definitely weren't with the White Lions.

But she didn't care. She needed out. Needed air. And most importantly, she needed progress.

She marched out of her room, grabbing a set of robes and pulling them on over her clothes. Her beaded bag was already at her hip; her wand slid easily into her back pocket.

"Where are you going?" James asked, brow raised. The other two turned towards her immediately.

"To get another Horcrux and destroy it," Hermione said, voice clipped. "I can't take this anymore. It's driving me insane. I'm not afraid of Dumbledore—and staying here gives him exactly what he wants. I'm not letting him box me in like a caged animal." Her scowl deepened. "He doesn't get to win."

"It's not safe," Remus reminded gently.

"Right now, I don't care," she shot back. "We're two weeks behind schedule, and I'm losing my mind in here."

"They'll follow us," Sirius pointed out, rising from the couch and walking over to her.

"Then we give them something to follow, don't we?"

He raised a brow. "How?"

"We leave a trail. I've found a new anti-tracking spell," Hermione said briskly. "It should delay our movements by an hour or two. If we Apparate to several different locations, our magical trace gets scrambled. It'll take them ages to unscramble it."

"They'll tell Dumbledore." James pointed out.

"By that point, it'll be too late. And I'm bored, I'm frustrated, and I refuse to let him corner me into compliance. You should never corner a wild animal."

Sirius grinned—the reckless, wicked kind that meant absolute chaos was incoming. "Let's go then," he agreed, not needing to be told twice. He'd follow her into Fiendfyre.

He grabbed his leather jacket, and together they left the apartment—both of them itching for movement, for action, and for freedom.

They Apparated to Diagon Alley. Then to Hogsmeade. Then to Godric's Hollow. Back to Hogsmeade. And finally—back to London.