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Grabbing the hand of a distracted and shocked Hermione, I walked over to the fireplace and scooped up a handful of gunpowder from a nearby rack, throwing it into the fire. The flames turned green and stopped giving off heat. Taking another handful, I put it in Hermione's hands.

"Say 'Leaky Cauldron.' Got it?"

She nodded weakly but stepped into the fire and said mechanically:

"Leaky Cauldron," she immediately threw down a handful.

I quickly followed her, and in a moment, I was standing in an empty pub, with Hermione standing beside me, looking around.

"What's up, kids?" ran up a concerned Tom, the bartender. As always, in his usual work suit.

"Riots at the championship. You'll probably have a lot of guests tonight. We'll go."

As I almost walked Hermione to the exit, bartender Tom called out to us:

"Where are you going? There is a Muggle world! There are Muggles! It's dangerous there!"

"Ha ha ha!" laughed Hermione hysterically. Having conjured a not very effective soothing charm on a girl with a wand, because there are simply no effective charms, I turned to Tom:

"We live there, sir. And believe me, the danger is clearly exaggerated."

I put a muggle-repellent spell on us and led Hermione outside. The girl kept laughing, and after a few seconds, she began to cry silently. I pulled her into my arms and hugged her to me. So we stood there under the light of street lamps and the sound of passing cars, but no one saw us. When Hermione's shoulders stopped shuddering with indiscriminate sobs, she pulled away and looked at me with slightly swollen and flushed eyes.

"Did you kill them?"

"Yes."

Silence. Hermione buried herself in my shoulder.

"Strange," she mumbled softly.

"What is?"

"I feel comfortable with you..."

"It's mutual."

After standing like that for a few minutes, we began to decide what to do.

"I'll get Knight and take you home."

"And you?"

"What about 'me'?" voting with my wand, I looked her in the eye.

The incipient "moment" was unceremoniously interrupted by squealing brakes and the appearance of a three-story purple bus. Why had I ever taken public transportation back and forth before?

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard!" In a slovenly dressed conductor's uniform, an unshaven guy, leaning out of the open door, spoke cheerfully. "Where to?"

We went inside, and Hermione gave the address. Before we could sit down, the bus picked up speed sharply, but I held Hermione, clutching the handrail at the same time. After a couple of minutes of extreme driving, the bus stopped abruptly.

"Here we are!" the conductor shouted cheerfully. "That'll be a sickle and three knuts."

"Here, leave the change," I handed the guy a galleon.

"I won't argue!" the coin immediately disappeared into his hand, and we exited near a private house belonging to people with clearly above-average wealth. After removing our charms and escorting the silent and dejected girl all the way to the porch, I pressed the bell. After only half a minute, the door opened, and Mrs. Granger appeared in front of us in a dressing gown.

"Hermione? Max? What's wrong? Why did you come at night?" she asked, letting us into the house.

"A long and unpleasant story. A riot at the championship. It was... Difficult."

"Come in, take your shoes off. I'll put on the tea. Go into the living room."

Quickly dropping my things, I followed Hermione, who was wandering on autopilot. She reached the living room and sat down on the wide couch, her legs tucked under her tiredly. I sat down next to her, and she laid her head on my shoulder. We sat like that for a minute or so, but Hermione fell asleep. I'm no expert in psychology, but maybe after such stress and what she had seen, eventually ending up in her own home, she simply passed out? Who knows?

When Hermione's mother walked into the hall, her father came down from the second floor.

"Oh, wh..." he wanted to greet loudly, but I leaned my finger to my lips, nodding at the girl sleeping on my shoulder. "Ahhhh, I see."

Mr. Granger quietly walked over and greeted me by the hand, and Mrs. Granger poured us a cup of tea. We drank in silence. Carefully I got up from the couch and laid Hermione on it, put a pillow under her head, and covered her with the blanket Mrs. Granger had given me.

"I won't abuse your hospitality," I whispered softly, heading for the exit.

Already on the threshold, Hermione's mother turned to me.

"But where are you going at this late hour? Why don't you stay with us for the night?"

Pulling my bag off my shoulder, I pulled out a notebook and quickly scribbled down a note.

"There's a fear that was going on. Try to make sure that when she wakes up, she sees you and the note."

"All right," Mrs. Granger accepted the note. "But..."

"No need to worry. We wizards have ways of fast travel."

"Do, as you like, Max."

"Good night."

Leaving the Granger family's house, I walked down the street for a while, thinking about what had happened. I turned the occlumency to maximum, and as always, I felt nothing. Do I need to loosen it now in order to feel the fact of killing people? I loosened it. No change. But I did feel a little more worried about Hermione. Shit.

I stepped into the dark alley and called out to Kreacher. With a quiet clap, the house-elf appeared in front of me, bowing his head in greeting.

"Old Kreacher..."

"Decency aside. I'm tired. Take me to the house on Grimmauld Place," I held out my hand to the house-elf. He touched me, and an extremely soft vortex of apparation literally shifted the scenery around me. A fraction of a second, and I was standing in front of Walburga's portrait.

"Max? I didn't expect you to show up in the middle of the night."

"All tomorrow, Lady Walburga. I'm tired. Kreacher. Take me to my room."

When I got to my bed, I collapsed face down into my pillow and fell asleep almost immediately.