The air in the tent felt suffocating, filled with the scent of blood, residual Dark Magic, and potions. The salty, coppery tang of blood mixed with spent magic burned in her nose.
Hermione worked silently, her eyes sweeping frequently over to the opening of the tent, looking for Harry.
Finally the tent flap was shoved aside, and Harry burst in, followed by Ron and Fred. Her heart jumped into her throat as she caught sight of Harry's pale face.
“Hermione, what's going on?”
Hermione hurried across the tent towards Harry. As soon as he was within reach, her fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt.
“We got word you were here when we rejoined the main force in the castle.” Harry was covered in dust and grime. He rubbed at his face and left a band of soot across his forehead. “What are you doing here? Did something happen to Ginny?”
“No.” Hermione shook her head sharply. “No. Ginny is fine. She's back at Grimmauld Place. Come with me, there's a smaller tent over this way.”
Harry gave a visible sigh of relief and followed her. His pensive mood had vanished. His eyes were clear. He had an air of intense focus about him, the way he had been when playing Quidditch.
“We found it. The one in Hogwarts. It was in the Room of Requirement. It was Ravenclaw's diadem. Ron cut it in half with the Sword of Gryffindor. So — it's just the snake now. Neville and—”
Hermione pulled him into a small tent and blocked Ron and Fred from following. “I need to check something privately,” she said. “It will just take a few minutes.”
Ron looked down at her, his eyebrows furrowed. “Hermione, this really isn't — Harry's supposed to be—”
Her stomach knotted painfully as she stared up into Ron's worried face. “I need a few minutes. This is important,” she said.
Ron studied her and gave a slow nod. “Right. We'll be outside then.”
Her throat felt thick as she gave a small nod in return. “Thank you.”
She warded the entrance, turned, and found Harry's questioning face.
She drew a shivering breath. “Harry, I need you to sit down and let me check something. I know this seems like the wrong time, but I need you to trust me.”
She pushed him into a chair and rested her fingers gently against his temple, trying to rub away the dirt smeared across his face. As she studied his face, there was an aching sensation across her cheekbones, and her fingers trembled slightly.
She forced her occlumency walls into place and withdrew her hand. Her fingers were steady, and her attention surgically precise as she cast a complex diagnostic projection over him. Then she started muttering incantations under her breath, weaving an analytic web of magic around him.
She stepped back and studied his magical signature carefully. If there had been two separate signatures in the past, there weren't anymore. They had bonded almost entirely. She carefully tried to tease them apart, trying to make out which parts belonged to which, but they were conjoined and entwined.
Harry was watching her. “Hermione, what are you doing?”
Hermione ignored him, carefully watching the variance in the projections as she cast a spell on him. It had no effect. She tried several more.
She studied the magic she'd woven around him. There was painful, weighted sensation in her chest. She blinked and met Harry's eyes, reaching out and resting a hand on his shoulder.
“Harry — I need to touch your scar.”
“No, don't.” Harry jerked back.
Hermione's hold on his shoulder tightened until she could feel his bones through his jacket. He'd always been so thin. “Harry, I have to do this. I'm sorry, I know it's painful. You know I wouldn't be here if it weren't urgent.”
Harry wavered and swallowed as he looked up at her. “Fine. You can do it. But tell me why.”
Hermione hesitated, her lips twitching. “Let me check this first — then I'll tell you what I'm doing.”
His eyes searched her face for a moment before he gave a short nod.
Hermione muttered a spell and pressed the tip of her wand against the lighting bolt scar slicing through his forehead. The instant her wand touched the skin, Harry screamed through his teeth, his head whipping back violently as he nearly collapsed. The magical signature projected in front on him suddenly shivered and parts of it slowly turned blood red, casting into stark relief which parts of the signature were foreign. There were red tendrils twisting and tightening where they were entwined and conjoined with the larger magical signature.
It was identical to the magical signature in Hufflepuff's Cup.
Hermione jerked her wand back with a low gasp. “Oh god.”
“What is that? Hermione! What — is that?” Harry was staring at the projection before him, his face deathly pale.
Hermione felt as though she were being ground into dust inside. She parted her lips, but no sound emerged from her throat.