The hardy fire crackled in the brick fireplace as Albus Dumbledore shuffled through papers, manuscripts, and essays. Though it was pouring "Chinese Fireballs and Mackled Malaclaws" as Smith Jabberwocky had called it, the hewed out stone room was warm and friendly
"You called us, Professor?" Two seventh-years entered the Transfiguration professor's compartment. Both were girls; the tallest of the couple was beautiful, with a stylishly cut bob and very high cheekbones, pale skin and every resemblance of a member of the family of Black.
Albus Dumbledore looked up from the wrinkled parchment he was studying, looking over his half-moon glasses with twinkling blue eyes. "Ursa Black, Mrs. Parkinson, haven't I asked for the Head Boy and Girl from Hufflepuff and Slytherin, as well as Miss Pomfrey? Where are Brady and Tom?" Dumbledore smiled at the Head Girls, but there was some warning in his eyes.
"Tom has some unfinished business to attend to; he said he would come as soon as he can." Ursa mumbled uncomfortably, picking at a loose thread on her robe.
Olivia Parkinson jutted in before the professor could ask anything of the subject. "I bumped into the nurse coming here; she said that she was attending a first-year whose potion went badly in class…so…"
"And what about Brady?"
"He can't come now, um, he has to finish a paper that's due tomorrow- you know Professor Miriam when she doesn't get a good paper from a star student," Olivia stuttered, "Did you see what Jackson did to the Ravenclaw banner?-" She ended her meaningless stammer with a hard jab in the elbow from the Slytherin Head Girl.
"What Parkinson is trying to say is that neither could come for reasons that are supposed to be private," Ursa glared at her friend as Olivia's pink cheeks turned a shade of bright scarlet.
Dumbledore raised an eyebrow disapprovingly and disbelievingly, but then smile a bright white grin. "Very well then, I am going to ask you to go down to Rubeus Hagrid's hut. He came by asking about needing some help, please go."
Ursa Black silently dipped her head, and, sashaying to the door, noiselessly exited the room, Olivia trailing behind her.
Hermione felt someone licking her face. It was warm and wet, and she pushed the furry thing away. She stopped, gasped, and fell back. Her ribs seemed to be a cage, unable to let her move. The last thing Hermione recollected was falling, then hitting something. After that, she had remembered nothing else.
"Get off of her, Fang," A gruff voice answered, and the furry weight was lifted off her stomach.
Hermione opened her eyes, just to be face and face with a young Hagrid. The first trace of his beard was just starting to grow on his face and he was thinner that she remembered the older Hagrid being, but the glittery black beetle eyes were unmistakable. The Time-Turner had indefinitely worked; she was in 1945.
She sucked in a breath, but faltered, the ribs limiting her action. She took a shallower breath, the pain not being so intense, and managed to say, "Where am I?"
Hagrid blushed deeply and shuffled off, taking a shiny copper kettle off of the hook in the fire. "You, mai'm, are in me ol' cabin here, right on the grounds of Hogwarts, th' school pf Witchcraft and Wiz'ary." He poured an amount of hot water into a small shallow dish and set it on the floor. Then, with pot in hand, he beckoned with his finger towards a makeshift tent made of several thick drab blankets.
"Com'on out Fang, she ain't gonna hurt'cha,"
A young puppy with ears tied up in bandages edged out of his safety tent and nervously eyed the steaming dish. Hesitantly, with one paw in front of another, made his way toward the dish, then, half way to the ceramic dish, broke out in a made dash, licked up the water, and ran crazily to the safety tent and disappeared into the midst of the tent.
Hagrid looked up, the blush still lingering in his cheeks. "Fang was a gift from the 'eadmaster, Professor Dippet, and is a tad shy around people he does't know; he was fine till you woke up,"
Hermione smiled, even through her confusion. "He looks like a nice dog. But, sorry to change the subject, but how did I get here?"
Hagrid's smile faded. "Found ya this morn'in in my daily stroll through the Forbidden Forest. You were crumpled against a tree; you're leg a bloody mess and red was oozing through your shirt. I brought ya back and bandaged up your leg, I'm no nurse, doc'or, or heal'r. Send for Missus Pomfrey, hadn't heard of ani'thing yet." He shrugged, and poured what was left of the hot water into a cup, adding some sort of shredded black substance to the water.
Hermione pulled up the blanket that was covering her to her chin and laid back, taking shallow breaths all the while.
"I'm sorry, but I haven't gotten your name."
Hagrid grinned broadly, sitting down on a stool unnervingly close and handed the mug to Hermione, grinning broadly. "Me names Rubeus Hagrid, at your service, and I am the Keeper of Hogwarts. I suggest you drink it up, it's a old family recipe, and it delivers a stench as it cools. It is said to be able to heal broken bones faster than magic it'self,"
Hermione gave a small smile to the young Hagrid, and put the mug to her lips, sucking the thick liquid down. It wasn't awful, bit like a tarter sauce mixed with Muggle soda.
Setting the cup on the table, Hermione gasped, "Thanks, I don't think I need anymore,"
Hagrid sat with legs spread apart, as wide as tree trunks and with his hands clasped between his legs. "I'm glad you did't puke like Johnson did on a dare. It took me hours to clean up and Pomfrey made me pay for his heath-care. Though completely off subject, I need to know your name,"
Hermione nodded, staring at the fireplace. "I am Heather Granger, student of Beauxbâtons, daughter of Leslie Granger,"
"Hm, Granger…" Hagrid rubbed his temples and remained quiet, as if thinking. "I thought Beaubaxtons was attacked by Grindlewald, and, according to Jabberwocky, no one survived."
Hermione flinched. "I was actually flying over to a family member's house in London on a broomstick, and something hit me, I remember a bright green light…" Hermione lied absentmindedly, the raindrops still pattering on the tin roof.
"Olivia, you must never speak in front of Dumbledore again; you almost wrecked all the securities that Tom built around his project." Ursa Black stared straight ahead into the undying storm.
"But I'm not a follower yet, Tom hasn't accepted me." Olivia pulled the black umbrella lower over her eyes and looked downcast into the muddy road.
Ursa paused, and pulled her wand from the folds of her robes, a thin ebony one. "Lumos," The wand produced a sickly blue light and luminated her moon-shaped face.
"Olivia, Tom gives the Mark to his Followers; you are but a fifth-year, too young to be a Follower." The Head Girl, sticking out her left arm, pressed the light to her skin, revealing what Tom called his Dark Mark.
Olivia stared at the Mark. It was a finely crafted skull embedded in the Black's skin, a long green snake flowing out of the mouth. Only Tom's closest followers bore the Mark.
"The skull is a symbol of wisdom, and the snake is the sign of Slytherin," Ursa smiled down at her Mark.
Olivia puffed out her chest, trying to reserve whatever self dignity she had left. "Let's go; I want to get back inside to warm my feet by the fireplace in my own private Head Girl room."
Hermione stared out of the window, and saw two shadows, both slender and feminine in form, almost floating toward the hut.
"Whlep, looks like help is here from Hogwarts for you, Heather." Hagrid peeked out the window over Hermione's shoulder.
Hermione nodded.
O.K, so it stopped a bit earlier than I wanted, but I needed to stop somewhere. I thank you all for the reviews and subscriptions for alerts. Tee Hee! I really happy!
See you in the next chapter. Eee! Kitty!
~Gaili Beron
(Gale-lee Ber-ON)