Chapter 33

“As a healer, my advice would be that you shouldn’t,” said Orlens gravely. “But I understand. I’ll take you in, but you must stay quiet.”

Aaron nodded, promising he would.

With a flick of Orlens’s wand, the door to the treatment room swung open.

Anne lay motionless on the bed, her forehead and half her face wrapped in white bandages. A few magical monitoring instruments hummed softly beside her.

Aaron and Diana took two hesitant steps forward before Orlens stopped them.

Anne’s face was as pale as the gauze covering her left eye. Even her lips had lost all color. Her left arm, thickly bandaged, rested limp outside the blanket.

The room was so silent that the only sound came from a quill floating in midair, scratching softly across a blank sheet of parchment as it recorded the readings from the monitors.

Orlens ushered them back out and quietly shut the door.

Both Aaron and Diana looked ghostly pale. The alcohol in their blood had done nothing to bring warmth to their faces. Aaron’s fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles went white.

“My stock of healing potions is more than sufficient,” Orlens said, his tone gentle but firm. “There’s nothing to worry about tonight. Go home and rest.”

Diana nodded but turned to Aaron before leaving.

“Don’t even think about tracking down Order members tonight,” she warned. “Acting on impulse now will only make mistakes happen. Let Kingsley and Moody handle the investigation. That’s the smartest move.”

“You have work tomorrow. Don’t forget, by day you’re the Deputy Director of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And as the Order’s vice commander, it’s even more important that you stay calm. You don’t want Anne’s sacrifice to go to waste because you lost control and exposed the files she fought to protect, do you?”

Aaron took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. “I know. I’ll be careful.”

Diana gave him one last look before Disapparating.

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London, West End, 12 Shaftesbury Avenue.

In the first-floor sitting room, Orr had just finished serving dinner. Aaron barely touched his soup before pushing the plate away.

“Master Aaron doesn’t like tonight’s dinner?” Orr asked anxiously.

“No—” Aaron shook his head. “It tastes the same as always. I just don’t have an appetite.”

“Is Master Aaron missing Miss Reeve?” Orr’s large ears twitched. “Orr misses Miss Reeve too. She’s the finest witch I’ve ever met.”

Aaron gave a weak, bitter smile. “Yeah… she’s amazing.”

He couldn’t stop the image from replaying in his head, Anne’s confident smile as she promised she would protect him. And she had kept that promise, even at this cost.

“Master Aaron,” Orr continued carefully, “according to the schedule, you still need to feed the animals in the basement tonight.”

“Oh. Right.” Aaron pushed back his chair and stood up listlessly.

As he crossed the sitting room, something occurred to him. He had nearly forgotten about the phone call.

He pulled out his mobile and dialed. The call connected after only one ring.

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The bedroom on the other end of the line was completely dark. Hermione hadn’t moved since morning; she still lay staring at the ceiling, biting her lip.

The moment her phone buzzed, she sat upright and answered.

“Hello—”

“Miss Granger,” Aaron said softly in French. “The little fox is indeed hurt, but she’s in a very safe place, under the best care. You don’t need to worry.”

“Is that so?” Hermione murmured, pressing her lips together. Her voice trembled slightly. “Then… may I go see her?”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” Aaron replied. He picked up a framed photo of himself and Anne from the table, staring at it. “Your current assignment is above even my clearance level. Besides, after what happened in St. Catchpole, at Luna’s house, your and Potter’s identities were compromised. Anne spent a lot of time cleaning up the aftermath. But there’s no guarantee the enemy doesn’t already know you’re working together.”

“I…” Hermione gripped the phone tightly. “Then can she, can she call me?”

“I’m sorry. She can’t.”

The silence on the line was heavy. Aaron hesitated, then added quietly, “All I can tell you is that she’s safe. Where she is, there’s no signal. And after what happened, we’ve lost most of our information sources. Very few people can be trusted right now. Until the SS-level lockdown is lifted, I can’t offer any operational support. I’m sorry.”

At the word traitor, Hermione’s brows knit together. “Didn’t the headquarters have the most advanced layered defense possible? Even an inner-circle member couldn’t enter the core areas without proper clearance.”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” Aaron said. “The outer headquarters is nothing but rubble now, but the second floor… showed signs of a fierce fight. Which means the attackers didn’t break in, they were already inside, waiting. If it had been a full assault, there would’ve been alarms, backup, chaos. But this, this was too quiet. Too sudden. No warning at all.”

He clenched his fists, his voice low. He still couldn’t fathom how Anne had survived an ambush by four Death Eaters. In a scenario like that, without preparation, even he would’ve had only one possible outcome.

“The second floor…” Hermione whispered. “Was she the only one there?”

“There was Tom, the Squib gatekeeper.”

“What happened to him?”

“He’s dead. Found downstairs.”

“No signs of intrusion on the third floor?”

“None. The defensive enchantments were untouched, not a single breach. Moody confirmed it. He’d taken her to headquarters that morning. He checked the wards himself before leaving.”

Hermione bit her lip until she tasted blood. That meant Anne had been ambushed, trapped in a premeditated attack, possibly surrounded. A chill swept through her entire body.

“She… she’ll be all right, won’t she?” Hermione’s voice broke.

Aaron fell silent. How could he answer that? Hermione knew the Order’s defenses, she could imagine exactly what kind of situation Anne had faced.

After a long pause, he said quietly, “Just… be careful. Wait until the SS alert is lifted before continuing your mission. If I get any updates, I’ll tell you first.”

He hung up.

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Hermione stood in the darkness for a long time before her phone buzzed again. The caller ID read: Roland Manor.

“Good evening, Hermione. It’s Diana,” came a familiar voice in French. “I’m guessing you’ve already spoken to Aaron?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so. I’m not calling to tell you not to worry, you’d never listen anyway. Anne’s badly hurt and still unconscious; of course you’re worried. But I want you to know, we’re taking good care of her. And more than anything, she’d want to know you’re taking care of yourself too. Eating properly, sleeping, staying safe.”

Diana’s French carried the same lilting rhythm as Anne’s, softened by the same accent. Hermione felt some of the tension leave her shoulders.

“When Anne wakes up, I’m sure she’ll call you herself,” Diana went on. “Until then, please, stay safe. That’s what will make her happiest. All right?”

Hermione nodded, even though Diana couldn’t see it. “All right,” she said softly.

“Good. Then get some rest. Good night, Hermione.”

“Good night, Diana.”

She ended the call and stood still for a few seconds, breathing deeply. Then she turned on the bedside lamp and opened her door.

The sitting room was bright. Harry and Ron were both awake, surrounded by papers and the faint glow of the Deluminator on the table. The Sword of Gryffindor lay beside the sofa, its gemstones gleaming under the chandelier light.

“Hermione,” Harry said, rising from his seat, “I boiled some water. Want instant noodles?”

“Yes, thank you,” Hermione said quietly. “Aren’t you two going to sleep?”

Harry and Ron exchanged a glance. Neither pressed for details. Harry just nodded. “I’ll go now. Ron’s on watch.”

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The complete release can be accessed through[P]atreon.[c]om/Crimson_Lore [remove brackets]