Tales of the Broken Lemniscate
Independence
Notes and Such:
This section originally referenced some of my overly ambitious plans about alternative story-lines I had sketched out. I might still do them, but I am going to finish this one first.
I do not own Harry Potter. It is my belief that this type of fandom engagement has been approved by the IP holders. However, should the IP holders wish it, I will remove it.
The only place this has been distributed is fanfiction. If you see it anywhere else, shame!
Special Thanks to BrightSkywalker, who beta read this for me. Found a bunch of issues! Thanks so much!
Chapter 1: Old Friends
The street of Privet Drive had a certain old-timeliness to it. It was as if the entire street had been under a stasis charm for the last few decades. Of course, there was nothing at all magical about this street. It was, and always had been, an example of normalcy and no-nonsense for as long as most of its residents could remember. If certain advances of the previous two decades had passed the street by, that was perfectly fine by those who lived there. Beyond certain ritual street maintenance and the occasional sign upgrade, the township had, for its own reasons, decided this was a street best left alone. The upgraded street lamps, house remodels and rebuilding that was common in so much of the country had not managed to crack Privet Drive's long-standing stubborn facade.
The Witch looked down the street. It was not the sort of place you expected to find the most powerful wizard of the age. That was likely why he resided here. She surveyed the street, taking in as much about it as she could, before proceeding. There were wards of course. Nothing anyone would notice if simply passing by, but she knew what she was looking for. They ignored her, as she expected. There was a long-standing invitation for her to visit. She had never before acted upon it, but their creator was thorough, and had taken into account the possibility that she would.
The Witch headed down the street to Number Four, Privet Drive. Like much of the street, it had not changed in the many years since a young wizard had called it home. There were more wards, but none like you would see on a regular Wizarding residence. These were much more subtle, more focused on alerting their master to an intrusion than blocking one entirely. She supposed the most powerful wizard of his age didn't need to hold out for help, and instead could rely simply on a bit of advanced warning.
She had never come to visit after he moved in. It just seemed wrong to chase him after he had quite pointedly left the magical world. She still met with him of course, bi-weekly for lunch at restaurants around the area, to reminiscence about the past or catch up on recent happenings. Still, she never came to visit. Her very presence would bring much of the magical world he had spent such an effort to flee from right into his very home.
It always pained her to think of him living here. She knew of his history with the place, and it always baffled her why he would ever want any association with it again. But the world moved in strange ways, and she supposed he had found a sort of peace here after he had fled. As she stared at the house, she wondered if there had been some way she could've helped him. Something she could've said or done to convince him to not withdraw. To keep him from this horrible house and its horrible past. He had withdrawn there after the death of his best friend and the collapse of his job in the government. Could she have stopped it? But she too had also been reeling from the loss, and then they were both gone.
At one time the Witch had been a healer, but that hadn't lasted long after the death of her husband. She was a natural born provocateur, latching herself to one cause or another, and pouring her very soul into it. She had attempted her hand in politics after she left the medical community. Still, the Wizarding community was hard on her ideals, and she found herself missing her husband and best friend by her side. She had always hoped that he would return with her after one of their many talks. She knew he would do it in a second if she asked, but that wasn't something she was willing to do. She would update him on whatever important cause she was working on, always hoping he would decide that this time, he would return to her side and help her fight it.
The Wizard never did. He would always listen carefully, and give his thoughts and feedback. It was clear, however, that he wanted nothing to do with the world in which she lived. The Witch couldn't blame him. He had earned the right to leave, and many times she wished she had been able to join him. However, it wasn't in her character to give up on any cause, even one as horribly lost as was the political situation in Wizarding Britain.
Briefly she held onto the forlorn hope that her visit here today wouldn't shatter the fragile peace the Wizard had built for himself. She knew that wasn't realistic, but she held onto it as if it was the very last piece of chocolate in the entire world. She finally found a situation she needed his help to bring to conclusion, but she knew if she thought on it too long she wouldn't be able to tell him. The Wizard wouldn't see it that way, of course, but she would never forgive herself if she was responsible for dragging him back into the world he had spent so long trying to remove himself from.
Still, this isn't something she was able to do without him. Steeling her resolve, she knocked on the door of Number 4, Privet Drive. It wasn't strictly necessary of course. He had known she was here the moment she stepped onto the street. He had probably known the moment she had apparated in a park several blocks away. Still, there were appearances to keep up. If it gave him some level of comfort, she would humor his desires.
After an agonizing wait, the door of Number Four, Privet Drive cracked open. The green eyes of the most powerful wizard of the age stared right through the Witch's very soul.
"Well", he said, after looking her up and down, "I didn't think you would ever take me up on my invitation". The statement hung in the air, as if she had somehow both disappointed him and behaved exactly as he expected.
"Hello Harry", said the Witch. "I have something I wished to talk to you about".
"Of course Hermione", Harry said, opening the door wide. "But we talked just last week. And we were going to have lunch at Robin's next week." Harry beckoned her into his house. "Something that couldn't wait?"
"I'm afraid it is a bit private" Hermione said, placing her coat on a very large coat-rack at near the door. Staring at him intently, she asked "Can you ensure that we will not be overheard?"
Harry's eyes narrowed, and then he started muttering to himself. Hermione saw no sign of his wand, but that was to be expected. She knew how just holding that wand reminded him of how many people he had killed, and he was perfectly capable of casting the spells needed for their conversation without it.
Harry led her to the kitchen. It was a perfect example of 1990's English Muggle design. In here, you could almost forget that most of the appliances, much less the overall look, had gone out of style decades ago. He was muttering spells under his breath. Hermione looked at her feet, unsure if she should interrupt him.
When she looked up, there were two steaming cups of cocoa on the table in front of her. Harry gestured for her to sit. "Not even the angels would be able to overhear us now." he said, cocking his head at her. "So 'Mione, what is it that you wanted to talk about?"
The wizard in the kitchen had many titles. He had been called the 'Vanquisher of the Dark Lord', the 'Most Promising New Auror' and even 'The Most Powerful Wizard of an Age'. But before all of those, he had been known as 'The Boy Who Lived'. He didn't put much stock in those titles. Being known as 'The Boy Who Lived' had haunted him through his younger years.
It was supposed to get better after he graduated. He was going to show people that he was more than just the legend. In the Auror corps, he would be able to use his defense against the dark arts skills to an end beyond the fall of the dark lord. A little auror, chasing down kids who dabbled in magic they were not supposed to dabble in. No more saving the world. No more prophecies.
No more dreams.
It didn't work out that way. He was the 'Vanquisher of the Dark Lord'. There was no way the powers that be would let him live a normal life.
And the dreams. They still came. And they were worse.
The cry in the night. "Lily, Take Harry and go!". The crying. The blinding green light.
It had never truly left him. It was now joined by others. The look on Sirius's face as he was pushed through the veil. The mangled body of Lavender Brown. The endless rows and rows of unnamed muggles. Dying without even knowing they were in a warzone, any survivors denied even the ability to remember how their comrades died.
Harry gave himself a mental shake. It didn't do to dwell. Anyway, for some reason living in this hellish house helped quiet the dreams. That and living away from the Wizarding world, where there was a reminder of what was lost around every corner.
Harry looked at the Witch in his kitchen. She seemed uncertain, a look he had only very rarely seen on her face. True, it had been a while since she had come to him with a true heart-to-heart. Most of these meetings were simple pleasantries and keeping up. The last time they had talked, really talked was after Ron died. Harry shivered. He supposed it was part of the reason they had avoided such talks. It was hard to imagine him and Hermione sitting bearing their souls without him. Or rather, any such conversation would inevitably have his ghost sitting over their shoulders.
Still, he remembered Hermione. She generally didn't hesitate in such talks. Usually it was more of a 'dive straight in with lots of numbers and figures' and he had to back her down. Force her to explain at a speed that normal minds could follow. Something was holding her back. Since she wasn't volunteering, Harry decided to prompt her.
"I don't recall you being this hesitant." Harry gave her a look. "Uncomfortable topic? I thought after that lecture on House Elf anatomy there was no topic you would be bashful about tackling.".
Now it was Hermione's turn to give him a look. "No no, its nothing like that," she said. "It's just well... You used to be an Auror Harry". Ahh, Harry thought. Something illegal then. Or at least on the grey side of the law.
Harry grabbed Hermione's hand. "I have been your friend a lot longer than I was an Auror Hermione. You can talk to me."
Hermione looked totally unconvinced. A ripple of something... concern?... washed over her face. Of course, Harry thought, She is worried what kind of trouble this will get me into.
Tightening his grip on her hand, Harry poised her a question: "Hermione, is this about something you were working on back when I was still an Auror?"
Hermione paused a minute, lost in thought. Harry suspected she could of answered the question either way, but he waited patiently while she came to her answer. Finally, she nodded to the negative.
"Then it is nothing to be concerned about. I'm only obligated to follow up on crimes that happened while I was serving. The department doesn't want any Aurors running off to join some criminal scheme they were monitoring, but they also don't want anyone playing vigilante after retiring". Harry snorted. "Not that those very same retired Aurors didn't save their asses back in the war".
Hermione looked at him for a moment. A long moment. Then suddenly, it was as if the floodgates had been broken and it all came running out in a rush.
"Oh Harry, I have this concept I've been working on and I've gotten to the point I need to decide if I want to keep at it. I don't really have anyone I could share this with besides you since Ron... and it's so delicate. I must've thought I was giving it up a dozen times before coming back to it. You know, work at the St. Mungo's wasn't exactly stimulating and it kind of became a pet project. It was a research project to come back to whenever was happening at the Hospital or at the Ministry. Its getting to the point of becoming more than that now, and I don't know if it should. If I want it to. Should I want it to? It's so dangerous, but the potential payoff... I just couldn't make this decision by myself. So you. You always seem to know if we should charge into the darkness or not and I..."
She got through it all without seeming to take a breath. There was the Hermione Harry knew. Still, it looked like she was going to go on like that for a while and Harry wasn't any closer to understanding what the problem was. Harry put his hand up, and Hermione's voice died off.
"Damn I have missed your rants Hermione. It really brings me back. But I'm not understanding anything you are saying. Take a deep breath." Harry paused while she followed his instructions. "Take your time. Think. What is it that that you need to ask me?" Harry pulled away and watched as she composed her thoughts.
Hermione gathered herself up. She had a slight fear in her eyes. Like Harry might bite her. However, there was also strong determination. She obviously was committed with going through on this conversation.
"Harry" she said, picking her words carefully. "If you had the opportunity to change everything, make it so things worked out differently during the war, would you take it?"
Thanks for Reading!
If you made it this far, I would appreciate taking some time to leave a review. Particularly if you can point out any problems you see. This is my first fanfiction attempt, and indeed my first creative writing piece in a long time (I'm mostly technical writing). I was never a fan of writing in school, particularly the stuff like grammar and spelling (yuck).
I'll take comments on anything. Flow, plot, spelling, character inconsistencies, lore issues. I have thick skin, Lay it on!