Hermione Down Under
(Disclaimer: I have no business connection with HARRY POTTER. My only purpose in writing this story is to have fun and maybe share it)
(Author's Note: this story happens shortly after the end of DEATHLY HALLOWS. I want to thiank SANDEFUR for suggesting the story theme)
Chapter 1
The Muggle Way of Doing Things
Hermione had ridden a Hippogriff on a mission to rescue Sirius Black. She had ridden a thestral twice, once to get to the Ministry for Magic, and once, behind Kingsley, to decoy Death Eaters away from Harry. She had ridden a dragon as a getaway after robbing Gringotts bank, in a good cause. But she had not ridden in a Muggle aeroplane before.
In some ways it was a lot better: in the enclosed cabin she wasn't exposed to the elements, and she didn't have to worry about losing her balance and falling hundreds of feet to the ground. But there were problems.
Ron was sitting right beside her, and was probably going through a lot of culture shock right now, because although he had ridden plenty of broomsticks, he wasn't used to Muggle machinery. The catch was that she couldn't talk to him, without several dozen Muggles listening in. They had them packed together like sardines. There was a loo, but it was barely large enough to accommodate one person, and the pair would definitely look strange trying to go there together.
Of course she knew how to cast a Muffliato spell, which would dim the hearing of the bystanders around them; she had done it many time while hiding from Voldemort. Her wand was concealed in a special pocket of her jeans. But Hermione thought of Muffliato as an offensive spell, justifiable in danger but not as a matter of mere convenience. The best Ron and Hermione could do was write notes to each other and destroy them afterwards. Even that was complicated by the fact that they had to use pencil and paper, when they were used to using quills and parchment.
Unable to communicate, Hermione was left to brood on the reasons for her aeroplane flight, which were not pleasant.
Almost a year before, Hermione had had a big problem: how to get her parents out of the British Isles, out of Voldamort's range, while she herself stayed behind to help Harry Potter. Since her parents were loving and protective, she couldn't persuade them to go – until she cast an amnesia spell on them. Oblivious to her existence and large blocks of their own past, her Mum and Dad had gone off to Australia. Hermione couldn't even keep track of where they had gone, being busy covering her own tracks from Voldemort's thugs. Only now, with Voldemort dead and Kingsley running the Ministry of Magic, was she free to get things back to normal.
She had planned to go it alone; after all this was her responsibility. But of course she had talked to Harry and Ron about it; she almost never concealed anything from them.
Ron had offered to come with Hermione to Australia, while Harry had insisted on staying behind in Britain. Neither gave full reasons for this arrangement, but Hermione suspected that she knew them, and it was another matter that she didn't want to dwell on.
"Attention," said a voice on the intercom. "Prepare for landing at Delhi airport. Seatbelts, etc-"
Hermione perked up. This wasn't their final destination, merely a transfer point. But she had never been through a plane landing ( though she HAD jumped off a flying dragon, which was definitely scarier) and was curious to see how the Muggles managed it.
Seatbelts were a good idea. She wondered why it had never occurred to wizards to put them on broomsticks – though trying to picture the wizards attached to their brooms by seat belts nearly made Hermione laugh.
The plane touched down with a bump, and Hermione found herself thrown forward as the plane shed its velocity on the runway. She hadn't sensed how fast they were going in the air. Wasn't there some scientific theory about that? She really ought to catch up on Muggle knowledge.
The plane finally taxied to a stop. People kept trying to manoeuvre their luggage out, without enough space to do so. Hermione didn't have that problem; she had packed everything in her Bottomless Handbag.
The message board in the terminal, fortunately, was in English, though most of the symbols were international anyway. Ron was looking flustered. "Our flight to Australia leaves in 2 hours," she said. "Let's go to the gate, then try to find an unoccupied area to talk. I hope we don't have to go through security again – I had to put a "Confundus" spell on the guards in London to keep them from searching my handbag, and I hated doing that to innocent Muggles. I wonder what a Bottomless Handbag would look like on an X-ray scan?"
Ron shrugged. "Dunno. I've never seen an X-ray machine until today."
They were able to reach the gate without complications. Hermione spotted a fairly unoccupied area where she thought they could speak without being overheard.
"You OK, Ron?"
"Yeah, I'm just getting used to a lot of new things at once. I'm starting to agree with Dad—"
"Your Dad?"
"He said one of the things that most mystifies him is how do aeroplanes stay up in the air?"
"I don't know. Something called aerodynamics. For that matter, why do broomsticks stay up?"
"Er – I dunno. I just sit on them." He chuckled.
"I think I'll have to take that attitude toward aeroplanes, and not worry about it. We need to talk about what we'll do when we reach Australia."
"I'm going to find a nice bed and go to sleep in it."
Hermione bit back the first reply that came to her. "Right. Not only has the plane trip been tiring, but we'll have jet lag to contend with."
"Do you mind sharing the same room, Hermione? It'll be cheaper."
Hermione knew what lay behind that request. Arthur Weasley now had a well-paying job, now that so many Voldemort sympathizers and pure-blood bigots had been purged from the Ministry of Magic, but for most of Ron's life his family had had to be careful about costs. She wished Ron had stated a different reason for wanting to share the bedroom. But Ron had not mentioned getting closer, not since – she put that thought out of her head. "Ron, we spent months in a tent together! Of course I won't mind."
"OK."
"The next day we'll visit Newcomers Limited. That's the company that was supposed to help my parents relocate. Hopefully they can tell us where Mum and Dad are. Then I can – I can—" Suddenly Hermione found herself crying.
Ron hugged her and let her cry on his shoulder. "Blimey, what is it? I thought you WANTED to find your parents."
"Yes – but – but – putting an Obliviate spell on them and letting it stay for a year was a horrid thing to do. Suppose they hate me when I restore their memories and they realize what I've done." The thought of her parents hating her made the tears flow stronger
Ron was silent for a moment, stroking her hair. Finally he spoke. "I can't predict how your parents will react, Hermione, because I don't know them that well. But I can tell you this. I will always love you. And so will my family, and Harry, and Neville, and Luna."
It sounded like cold comfort – that the hatred could still be there. It wasn't like Ron could speak for her family. But it was honest comfort, and that was what Hermione needed.
It was time to proceed to Australia.
TO BE CONTINUED
