Hindsight

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It was a fitful night for Harry. He had lost count of how many times he had woken up from the nightmares. Even holding Hermione tightly in his arms like a lifeline did not help matters.

At five in the morning, both decided that it was not worthwhile to try and sleep any longer. They got out of bed and downed a large dose of Invigoration Draught each. That gave them a measure of energy, but did not make them look or feel any healthier. Hermione had dark shadows under her eyes that contrasted with her unnaturally pale complexion. Harry was sure that if he looked in the mirror, he would see much the similar picture.

They passed the next two hours in bed, engaged in loving, but dispassionate sex. It almost felt like those days in the future, where they had used sex as an escape from the reality of war and dystopia. It was quite the same now – just a temporary flight from the death and pain of the previous day, a way of giving each other some comfort.

At just before eight, they could no longer stay in bed. As ludicrous as it was given all that had happened, classes were still going on. They shuffled down to the Great Hall to find the space decorated in black. The teachers were dressed to match – all except Dumbledore, that was. He was still dressed in his lurid, odd-coloured robes and eating his breakfast heartily as if all were normal.

A surge of anger and hatred came over Harry. Dumbledore, the man who was most directly responsible for the deaths of sixteen students, seemed to see nothing wrong with his actions at all. He must have begun hyperventilating, for Hermione caressed his back gently, rubbing small circles and calming him.

'I know,' she whispered, 'I know.'

The two of them sat down at one end of the Gryffindor table, as far away from Dumbledore as possible. An owl delivered the Daily Prophet and Harry tore it out of its grasp the moment it landed and unrolled it.

The headline screamed 'Terror in Hogsmeade'. Harry skimmed the article, looking for anyone he knew, any name he recognized. There were none among the students – not that it made him feel any better.

Hermione gasped, pointing at a spot on the paper. 'Look!'

Harry's eyes snapped to where she was pointing to. There, the two 'civilians' that Amelia had said had died were named. Hestia Jones and Sturgis Podmore, it read. The names sounded familiar, but Harry could not pinpoint where or when he had heard them.

'They were members of the Order,' Hermione said in a hushed whisper. 'Remember in the "old timeline"? They came to fetch you from Privet Drive the summer before your fifth year.'

Harry's jaw dropped open. 'It couldn't have been a coincidence that they were there.'

Hermione shook her head. 'No. It couldn't have been. Dumbledore must've ordered them there.'

A horrible thought occurred to Harry. 'Do you think…Dumbledore refused to cancel the Hogsmeade trip because he wanted to…he wanted to use the students as bait? So that the Order could capture a few Death Eaters?'

'I think it's possible. It would explain his negligence,' Hermione hissed. 'That's so…so…evil! Putting children in mortal danger so that he can serve his own ends! And he doesn't even seem to care that two members of the Order and sixteen of his students died yesterday! I want to…argh! I wish I could feed him to Aragog!'

Harry stabbed an egg with undue venom as he processed what Hermione was saying. Yolk splashed everywhere, but for once, Hermione did not complain. She was probably too busy fuming and plotting terrible fates for Dumbledore to care about a few specks of food soiling her robes.

The two of them brooded in silence, picking at their food. Ginny, Luna, and Susan arrived one-by-one a few minutes later. They, much like Harry and Hermione, picked at their food mostly in solemn silence.