The last note faded into silence.
For a moment, neither end of the line made a sound.
Anne stared blankly at the guitar strings, her thoughts far away.
"Anne, you've never sung that song before," Hermione said softly.
"No," Anne replied.
Because that song once carried me through one of the darkest stretches of my life.
It wasn't long in terms of time—but to me, it felt endless.
"I've never sung it," Anne said, her tone steady, "because I hadn't found the right person to sing it for. Now I have. I can only ever play it for you."
On the other end of the phone, there was sudden silence.
Anne's lips curved into a small smile. She strummed a lazy chord and said lightly,
"My girlfriend's probably blushing right now."
"Anne!" Hermione's voice was half irritation, half embarrassment.
Anne laughed—an easy, bright sound that filled the quiet room.
She could picture Hermione perfectly: face red, clutching the phone, eyes wide in that familiar mix of shyness and exasperation.
Sweet words?
No—flowery nonsense.
Hermione let out a little humph.
Still, lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling, she couldn't help but smile as she imagined Anne's teasing grin—the one that always followed those rare, earnest confessions.
At moments like this, the best tactic was…
Change the subject.
"What's the name of that song?"
"Clouds," Anne said, smiling. "It was written by an American boy—lyrics and music both. He was only seventeen when he wrote it."
"He's our age, then?" Hermione said. "When did you first hear it? And what happened to him?"
"A long time ago," Anne said quietly. "As for him… I'll tell you another time. It's late. You three are heading to the Ministry tomorrow—shouldn't you be reviewing the plan one last time?"
"Yes," Hermione said, suddenly tense at the reminder.
"Don't be too nervous," Anne said gently. "Here's what you should do—once you've gone over the plan, make a small cup of quick-acting sleeping draught for Harry and Ron. And for yourself too. Sleep well tonight, and you'll think more clearly tomorrow.
I've placed people inside and outside the Ministry, but their identities can't be exposed—nor can yours. So tomorrow, act according to the situation."
Anne stood in front of the map of London, her eyes on the tiny colored tags marking key locations.
"Two bottles of Polyjuice should be enough—four hours is the safest window. Work fast. Once you have the target, get out immediately.
Our intel says a large number of Death Eaters will be guarding King's Cross and other likely spots. The Ministry will actually be the least secure."
She paused, then added in a low, serious voice,
"But plans never keep up with reality. The Horcrux isn't worth more than your lives. If anything goes wrong, you put your own safety first—understand?"
Her tone was so firm that Hermione instinctively straightened.
"All right," Hermione said.
"And wear your armor," Anne reminded her. "Promise me."
"I am—wearing it right now," Hermione said with a small laugh.
"Good. And before you leave Grimmauld Place tomorrow, clear everything. No traces left behind."
Hermione smiled. "Basic rule of secrecy—leave no trail."
Anne hesitated for a moment, then added quietly,
"Your safety comes first. Promise me that."
Hermione smiled again—Anne had said that to her more than once tonight.
"I promise," Hermione said. "But you have to promise me too."
"Deal," Anne said, a small laugh escaping her. "Then… good night, Hermione."
"Good night, Anne."
Anne ended the call and stared at the maps on the wall for a while. Then she picked up her guitar again and sang Clouds once more, softly this time.
When she finished, she set it back in its case, sat down at the desk, and began reviewing the files. The half-open bag of chips, the coffee, and the chocolate sat beside her, untouched except for the occasional absentminded bite.
Hermione, hearing the line go dead, got up and tucked her phone away.
Carrying the mission plans, she climbed to the third floor.
At the landing, she ran into Ron, who was just about to knock.
Harry opened the door, saw them both, and stepped aside. "Come in."
As soon as they entered, Ron rubbed the back of his head, glancing awkwardly between them.
"Thanks, both of you. I didn't realize how much you believed in me. Guess I'm not completely useless after all."
Harry punched him lightly on the shoulder.
"You're my best mate, Ron. Don't ever forget that."
Ron grinned, then turned to Hermione.
"I've been thinking—after we pull off the Horcrux job tomorrow, I'll apologize to Anne. I shouldn't have said those things or acted like that."
Hermione set the plan sheets on the table.
"She already apologized too. I called her. But yes—you should tell her in person tomorrow."
Ron nodded.
"She also reminded me," Hermione continued, "that we need to review the plan again tonight. Once we're done, take a small cup of sleeping draught from me—you both need proper rest.
And…" she looked at them seriously, "if something goes wrong tomorrow, remember—our safety matters more than the Horcrux."
"I promise," Hermione said. "Now you promise me."
"All right," Anne said with a small smile. "I promise."