Chapter 2
The Lines of Time
"Yes well, I haven't traveled all that far really. I mostly stay in Britain", Hermione responded.
Fiona and Tisha were both looking at her intently. They shared a look before Fiona spoke once more, "You misunderstand me, Hermione." Looking unsure where to take the conversation forward, she said, "I think this conversation may benefit from a nip of something a bit stronger than tea". Without waiting for an agreement from either of the other women at the table, Fiona stood and crossed the kitchen to a wooden cabinet behind the swinging door, and came back with a bottle and three glasses. After pouring a generous spot in each glass, she took a swig from her own. Fiona's eyes met Hermione's meaningfully once more. "Do you believe in magic, Hermione?"
Hermione decided to buy time by taking a slow sip from her glass, all the while maintaining eye contact with Fiona. Quickly assessing her options, she decided that she had no reason for concern. After all, in a worst-case scenario, she could simply alter their memories Obliviating all traces of her stay here. Fiona met her calculating glance with an untroubled one. For an instant Hermione swear she saw a hint of recognition in the older women's eyes. She answered with a smirk, "Yes. Don't you?"
A smile that started at one corner of Fiona's mouth soon over took her whole face, and a deep chuckle escaped her. "You're a saucy thing! I'll have to keep an eye on you I see". The tension in the room breaking. From beside Fiona, Tisha was watching them both with interest. Taking one more bracing swig of whiskey, the older woman began again,"Well Hermione, have you heard of the peculiarities of standing stones then?"
Hermione's head cocked to the side, not expecting this change in subject. "Do you mean like Stonehenge?"
"Aye, almost exactly like Stonehenge. There are hundreds of gathering of stone circles like that all across the country. Most smaller than Stonehenge, but that's because those bampots that made Stonehenge had no idea what they were doing. They forced the largest stones they could find upon the ley lines and sapped all the magic out. Overcompensating for something if you ask me". Hermione couldn't help but sputter on her sip of whiskey at that comment, breathing in a little of the burning liquid. Tisha's face bore a fond resignation of somebody who has long suffered these ideals from her mother before. Meeting Hermione's slightly watery eyes, Tisha raised her glass to her with a soft snort.
Fiona refilled all three glasses before continuing on, "These locations are said to leak the earth's magic like a spring. Our ancestors marked these locations with whatever they had available, most notably stones." Hermione was nothing if not well read. She, however, had never heard this particular folk tale. "My family have been guardians of the local stones here as long as history has been recorded. Although we e have no written history of the original placement of the stones, we have our stories that have been passed down from generation to generation. I am the Caller of the ritual at my stones for the four earthly changing of seasons. When time dictates, I will pass my title to one of my daughters. Tisha has been the most receptive since she was a babe, so she will be the next Caller and one of her daughters will be after her. So, it has been for many generations." She paused to let this information sink in and gauge Hermione's reaction.
Hermione was entirely captivated to learn of new magics. She remained cautious, however, needing more information before exposing herself, and asked, "What is the earth's magic capable of?"
Fiona's answering smile reminded her of Professor Flitwick's whenever she answered a question correctly. "That is the question we need answered to move this conversation forward." She looked over at her daughter, "Is Phillip picking up the girls today? This is a conversation you've not heard in entirety before."
"Let me make a quick call then. I'll be right back." Tisha stood pulling her mobile from her pocket and exited the room towards the living room.
"Hermione", The older woman said quietly, gently grabbing back onto her hand to get her attention, "I have met your kind once before. We have no magic of our own to wield in this family. We are just guardians of the stones. I have some of The Sight though. I See you lass. You have been through much more than you should have. That other future was taken from you by wretched actions that were out of your control. This may be a blessing for a new start for you, if you are welcoming a change. It doesn't do to dwell on things long since lost." Hermione let her eyes fall from the kind look on the other woman's face onto their joined hands, her mind thinking of her parents again. Fiona's motherly concern was suddenly too much. On her right hand she wore the ring her mother got her as a 'coming of age' gift before the war consumed everything. The ring had a sapphire in the center for her birth stone with a small diamond on each side. She had left it behind when she went to that last year at Hogwarts not wanting to wear the colors of a different house. She never even thought about it until one of the many nights the nightmares of war and her guilt kept her from sleeping. Hermione went back to where her childhood home once stood that night. The death eaters had burned it down while she was in hiding with Harry and Ron. Even though she knew before apparating that the house wouldn't be there any longer, it was still a shock to see the empty lot. She stood disillusioned for hours crying alone thinking of her parents, and all the memories she was now the sole owner of. Looking at the new grass and weeds that grew out of the ashes was painful. How could new life of any kind come to cover the painful past that refused to leave her?
Her parents had been tracked down in the months following the final battle of Hogwarts that ended the war. The condition of their memories was deemed irreversible by the professionals from St. Mungo's. The small bubble of hope Hermione had of having her family back evaporated, and she fell into the darkest part of her life to date. She avoided everyone for months. Hid from them actually, in Australia. She followed her parents obsessively. She barely slept or ate, just watched them living their obliviously happy lives without her. She needed them, but they had no idea who she was. Harry was finally able to convince her to come home only by inciting her anger upon himself. He showed up one day outside of the Wilkins' home searching around. Hermione knew that he was looking for her and stayed well back, ignoring him when he called out to her. Unsuccessful at finding her, Harry walked straight up to her parents' house and introduced himself. He posed as some type of salesman who was waiting for a female partner that was supposed to meet him at their house. They must have thought the situation peculiar, but invited him in anyways. Harry sat and waited her out for hours, knowing her anger would not hold back forever. He won, she marched to the door, stunned her parents from the back, shouted at him and even hexed him at one point in her fury, and he held her when she was out of anger as she cried out all her pain. All the while her parents were unconscious on the floor of their living room. Once Hermione had dried up all of her tears, she went and found the ring in her mother's jewelry case, and left the house. She let Harry wake up her parents making up some excuse, apologizing to them for taking up so much of their time and thanked them for their hospitality.
The two friends just walked around arm in arm for a while after that. No particular direction, although Harry did make them stop at a cafe for food and made her eat with him, never leaving her side. Eventually, once the sun had gone down, Harry held her close again and quietly told her, "It's time to go home now, Hermione."
Hermione looked up, looking more fragile than he had ever expected to see her. Her eyes were watery and bloodshot. The bags underneath them were a dark bruised color, but the look in them is what was hardest to see. Hermione Granger, the bleeding heart to lost causes, was broken. Her heart, her confidence, and her hope for her future had all been broken and drained away. All that was left was raw despair and grief. She looked up at him and nodded. She clung to him that night as she slept solidly for the first time in weeks. The two friends left first thing in the morning. Hermione hadn't returned to Australia since that terrible trip. Neither had she removed the ring.
When Hermione felt composed enough she looked back at the woman across the table, not quite knowing what to say. Fiona was clearly more familiar with magic than Hermione had originally thought. "How long have you had The Sight?"
"I guess I've always had it with me. As a child there were instances that it would come to me, but they were few and far between. Once I came into womanhood though, that is when it really manifested. There were days I could get no rest from all the visions and sight drifting through my head. While going through the bodily changes no less. I wasn't sure I was going to make it without losing my head for a time." She confessed. "But in the end, the Sight evened itself out, and I learned to embrace it instead of resent what I had been gifted." Fiona released Hermione's hand and sat up just as the door swung open letting Tisha rejoin the table.
"Ok Mam, Phillip is picking up the girls from school today. Let's hear what this story is that you've been keeping from me." Tisha plopped back down into her seat reaching for her unfinished whiskey.
"Needless to say, this story stays here. With us. Tish you can't be running off to gossip with your sisters, or Phillip. Leave your daughters out of it for now as well. Don't need those sweet girls thinking we are any crazier than they already do." She paused staring at Tisha as if waiting for an argument. Tisha dipped her head to her mother, and bobbed her whiskey glass for her to continue. "Although she was not the first to be 'taken by the faeries' as legend would call it, our story begins with a woman named Claire Randall. Claire and her husband Frank were reacquainting themselves with each other after having spent most of their marriage apart in the Second World War. Claire was a combat nurse with the Royal Army, and Frank worked intelligence. Frank was a bit of a historian, and would spend hours with the Reverend Wakefield perusing historical documents researching his family tree". She paused here, placed her index finger to her teeth for a moment. She stood suddenly, "Actually I think I've still got some pictures laying around." She bustled into the study with the other two women close behind. "Ah", grabbing a yellowed looking photo album from a shelf, she turned while opening it, angled so the three of us could see it. "Frank later became a professor of history at both Oxford and Harvard."
The photo of two young people looked to be a wedding photo. The woman had a hat over an abundance of brown curls darker than Hermione's own hair. The man had a fedora hat that complimented his suit, and a warm expression directed at his new bride.
"Here they are. Mr. Randall and the Reverend became friends through their mutual interest in historical research. The Randall's were often hosted at the Manse that was the Reverend's home where my mother worked as the housekeeper. On one of the days the men were up to their elbows in research, Claire left on her own to go get a better look at a plant she had spotted the day before. The plant was near the stones. After that morning nobody saw her for three years." Fiona then turned the page to a very pregnant looking Claire. Although her and Frank stood side by side with his arm around her, the couple looked tense and distant compared to the first photo.
"She came back with something extra in tow, didn't she?" Hermione observed.
"Yes. It was quite the scandal. When asked where she had been all this time, she didn't have much to say. She was able to open up to my mother a bit. Claire told her she had been here in Scotland, but nearly two hundred years in the past. She told my mother the stones had taken her there. She confessed to becoming pregnant by another, and they ended up moving to The United States for a fresh start." The three women turned back towards the comfort of the kitchen. Resettling themselves at the table, Fiona continued the story. "Twenty years later Claire came back to Scotland with her daughter, Brianna. They attended the wake and stayed to talk to Roger, the Reverend's nephew and adopted son. Seems Claire had some sort of pact with Frank to not look for Brianna's biological father while they were together. Frank had died as well though, two years previously, and she knew Roger to have followed the Reverend's example, and was a historian of sorts as well. Claire, Brianna, and Roger ended up spending a lot of time together. Claire told her daughter of her real father, and Roger helped find him. Claire went back to him eventually. Brianna tried to go home to Boston and go back to college, but struggled. She still looked into the past looking for any confirmation that her mother had made it back safely. What she found was not what she wanted. An article dated 1776 announced the death of James and Claire Fraser. Brianna began preparing for her journey to save her parents with hopes she could get to them in time. Roger followed her." Fiona stopped to sip her abandoned whiskey collecting herself before looking up at Hermione. "Hermione you are a traveler like they are, a traveler of time."
A/N: Updated in order to clean up some prickles. Reads much smoother now like a wordly equivalent of a freshly shaven leg.
