Chapter 40

“Aaron, three things,” Skool said, coughing between breaths. “First, notify the Weasleys immediately. Tell them to evacuate the Burrow and go into hiding. Second, use as much gold as needed on the black market. I want every scrap of information you can find about how to infiltrate Gringotts. The more, the better. Third, upstairs there’s a goblin and Mr. Ollivander. Find somewhere safe to settle them.”

“Ollivander?” Aaron’s eyes widened. “Merlin’s beard, where did you find him?”

“You know I can’t say,” Skool replied quietly.

Harry interjected, “Actually, we could talk to Griphook. He used to work inside Gringotts, and since we saved his life, he might be willing to share something useful.”

Skool coughed again, nodding slightly. “That makes sense. You handle it. But remember this, never, ever make a deal or sign a contract with a goblin. Their sense of wealth and value is… nothing like ours.”

Harry nodded, still watching her worriedly. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

Aaron looked equally concerned.

“I’ll live,” Skool said, forcing a small smile. “That’s all for now. Harry, you and Ron take the first bedroom upstairs and get some rest. Aaron, have Kingsley take the night watch in the living room.”

“Understood.” Aaron nodded.

Skool rose, but halfway to the downstairs bedroom she ran into Orlens, who had just stepped out with Ron, his arm wrapped in bandages.

“How is he?” she asked.

“The armor absorbed most of it,” Orlens replied. “Only surface wounds, no curse damage. A night’s sleep and a day’s rest will do it.”

“Good.” Skool exhaled in relief.

Then, to everyone’s surprise, Orlens gripped her shoulder with one hand, raised his wand with the other. The tip glowed with a dim blue light. His voice turned sharp.
He glanced at Ron, Harry, and Aaron. “Can they hear this?”

“They can,” Skool said steadily.

“All right. Take off the glasses, earpiece, and ring. Let me see.”

The words sent a ripple of alarm through the room.

“What’s wrong?” Aaron blurted.

Anne bit her lip, removing the earpiece and ring. Aaron gently helped her take off the enchanted glasses. Orlens leaned closer, the blue glow lighting her face.

Her left eye was bloodshot.

“I knew it,” Orlens muttered. “Long-distance Apparition was too much. The earpiece and ring’s magic made it worse. Don’t wear them for at least two days. Tonight, you’re staying here.”

“Is it serious?” Aaron asked immediately.

“Not too bad,” Orlens said. “But I’ll stay the night, just in case.”

“Thank you,” Aaron replied quickly. “Do you need me to bring any potions?”

“No need. I brought enough. But I suggest you inform Diana, she was planning to visit Anne tonight.”

“Uh…” Anne looked up uneasily. “Do we really have to tell Aunt Diana?”

“You were brave enough to climb out of bed earlier,” Orlens scolded mildly, “so don’t start regretting it now.”

Anne lowered her head like a guilty student.

Aaron smiled faintly. “Don’t worry, I’ll handle your aunt. For now, focus on resting. The Order business, you can leave that to me. I’ll take care of those three tasks.”

He turned to Harry and Ron. “You two, upstairs. Get some sleep. Kingsley will keep watch.”

Harry and Ron exchanged a look and headed up. Just before reaching the stairs, Harry stopped and turned back.

“Uh, we left something behind. At location thirteen-oh-four.”

“What did you leave?” Anne asked.

“The Invisibility Cloak. And Hermione’s beaded bag.”

Anne glanced at Aaron.

“I’ll retrieve them myself,” he said. “Exact coordinates?”

Harry quickly rattled them off. Aaron nodded and disappeared with a faint pop.

Orlens guided Anne into the ground-floor bedroom. She removed her hood and shrugged off the gray cloak.

“Anne?” Hermione’s weak voice came from the bed. She lifted her head, noticing Anne’s pallor and coughing, and the healer’s box in Orlens’s hand. She immediately guessed what had happened.

Before Hermione could say anything, Anne smiled faintly. “It’s nothing serious. I just need to stay put tonight.”

“Well then,” Orlens said briskly, already mixing potions, “you can both rest easy. I’ve been a healer for half a century, I know when things will be fine.”

Anne winked at Hermione, her eyes saying See? Told you it’s fine. Then she kicked off her shoes and carefully slid under the covers.

Orlens handed her a steaming glass vial. “Drink it. Sleep early. I’ll check on you in the morning. There are rooms upstairs, yes?”

“There are four in total. You can take the third one, the one with the striped wooden door,” Anne said, taking the potion and drinking it down.

Orlens dimmed the lights and quietly closed the door behind him.

In the darkness, Hermione shifted slightly toward Anne, only to realize Anne was also inching toward her. They bumped into each other at the same time.

Both spoke simultaneously. “You okay?”

A soft laugh escaped them.

Anne reached out, found Hermione’s hand, and whispered, “Sleep. Good night, Hermione.”

“Mhm. Good night, Anne…”

The potion took effect quickly. Within minutes, both were fast asleep.

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The next morning, Hermione woke first.

The curtains were open, and the winter light, soft but steady, filled the warm bedroom.

The bandaged wound on her hand itched faintly. The pain and dizziness from last night were gone. She turned on her side, watching Anne sleep. It had been a long time since she’d seen her this closely. She looked thinner now, fragile, even.

Hermione’s chest tightened.

She reached out, fingers brushing the faint red scar that ran from Anne’s forehead, across her left eye, down to her cheekbone. The raised skin felt rough under her touch.

When the bandages had first come off, Anne had laughed it off.

“Don’t worry. It won’t scar, not even a mark. Your girlfriend’s still as pretty as ever.”

But Hermione hadn’t cared about scars, she cared about how Anne had gotten them.
For two nights after hearing the full story from Orlens, Hermione couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Anne lying in a pool of blood.
Even when she told herself it was only her imagination, she couldn’t stop the images.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. Hermione straightened up.

Orlens entered, carrying his box, smiling kindly.

“Good morning, Miss Granger,” he said as he set his case on the table and glanced around.

“Muggle houses are truly fascinating. Tell me, how do they keep a room so warm without a fireplace? I detected no trace of magic at all.”

Hermione laughed. “That’s the air conditioning. Anne’s quite fond of studying Muggle inventions.”

“Air conditioning?” Orlens repeated curiously, mixing potions. “How does it work?”

“Well, it pulls in cold air from outside, warms it up in a unit, and blows it into the room,” Hermione explained. Then she smiled faintly, Anne could’ve gone on about it for hours, with all the physics and chemistry.

“A clever system indeed,” Orlens said approvingly, handing her a vial. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better, Mr. Orlens.” She drank the potion in one gulp. “How’s Anne?”

Orlens placed a small magical monitor against Anne’s forehead and waved his wand. A quill and parchment hovered midair, scribbling data.

“Stable,” he said at last, pocketing the wand. The quill and parchment fluttered neatly back into his box.

Hermione let out a long breath. “When will she wake?”

“Close to noon, perhaps afternoon,” Orlens said. Then he paused at the door. “Oh, I almost forgot, the red-haired boy downstairs asked me to check if you wanted… instant noodles? What on earth are those?”

Hermione chuckled. “Typical Ron and Harry,” she murmured, swinging her legs out of bed. Orlens didn’t stop her as she stood.