Disclaimer all characters, settings, etc, are the copyright of JK Rowling and Bloomsbury Publishing
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Chapter four,
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Missing.
The next morning when I woke, I felt rough, as though I had not slept much at all. I walked into the kitchen where my mother was busy telling the food production unit what we wanted for breakfast. "Just cereal for me, mum," I told her as I sat down, I sighed "boy am I tired this morning."
"I am not in the least bit surprised, the way you were tossing and turning all night, do you know you actually woke your father and me twice, you were making so much noise, were you having nightmares?" my mother said, as she placed a bowl of cereal on the table in front of me.
I tried to remember my dreams, only managing to grasp a few of the more vivid parts. I remembered flying, casting spells at the enemy, I remembered Harry Potter fighting someone to rid the world of evil, but try as I might I could not remember any details.
"I think I was dreaming of flying," I told my mum, the only thing I could think of that did not sound stupid.
A holograph screen appeared just in front of me as I finished my breakfast. My communicator buzzed like crazy. Pressing the receive button, the hologram of my friend Greg began to talk to me.
"Are you coming into town with us? We are all going to see the new computer games. They say you can almost feel the pain in 'The battle goes on'. The holo-effect is supposed to be the best yet, with perfect colour and timing. Mind you we would need a new updated system to run it," Greg went on and on extolling the abilities of the new holo-games.
"I'm not feeling too brilliant today, I'm really tired, I think I may just go back to bed," I told him. "You will have to tell me all about it when you get back." I pressed the button once more and the holograph ended, picking up my communicator I went back up to my bed room, lifted the book I had dropped the night before, and finding the last part I remembered reading I lay on my bed.
I was still there when mum called me down for lunch. I did not really want to put the book down, it was fascinating. I admit it felt a little funny having an old fashioned book that had to be held by hand, instead of a holobook that turned the page automatically, but the story was so interesting. I nearly missed lunch and almost missed my evening meal, I would have missed that had my father not come to my room to fetch me. Once I had finished the book, I decided that when I took it back I would ask if I could borrow it again some time. I wanted to reread some parts, especially the parts about Harry Potter's defeat of the evil dark lord.
Two days later I knocked on the door of the Potter house, the door opened it's self. There was no sign of Mrs Potter, I knew instantly something was wrong, the door was usually locked by magic, it should not be open.
I rushed in and shouted her name "Mrs Potter it's me, are you here?" I got no answer from her and I started to get flustered, she must have had an accident I thought to my self as I rushed from room to room. I was just leaving the library when I noticed that Mr Potter was missing from his picture, just the large armchair he sat in remained.
I stopped mid stride, how could he have vanished, even a magic picture can't vanish. Then I remembered a piece I had read in the book, the old head master had been able to travel between pictures of himself. I knew then that Mrs Potter was not in the house.
Something had happened, I did not know what, but I knew it could not be good. Sitting in the chair I had sat in when I had the first conversation with Mr Potter, my mind began to race through all the awful things in the book.
Had some death eaters taken her, had she been kidnapped? Slowly I regained my self control telling my self that there were no longer any death eaters, but where then is Mrs Potter?
"WHO the heck…, Oh it's you, what's-your-name, Mione's friend,"
The unexpected shout made me jump, truth be told I was scared half to death; I looked around so fast I hurt my neck. Mr Potter was back in his picture looking down at me, I told him about making me jump and he kindly pointed out that this was not my house.
"What is your name by the way?" he asked as he watched my every move.
"My name Sir is Andrew but my friends call me Andy," I answered.
"Where's Mrs Potter, is she ok?" I wanted to know.
I suddenly realised I had come to love the grey haired old lady as a sort of grandmother figure; she meant a lot more to me than I had known till now. Mr Potter looked down at me, I could see he was debating on whether he should tell me.
"I have to know, Mrs Potter means a lot to me, I have grown to have quite a lot of affection for her over these last few week's," I said, hoping he would give me some good news, but knowing he would not.
"Hermione is in St Mungo's hospital, I had to go fetch a healer and they took her there this morning," Mr Potter told me.
"St Mungo's, can you tell me where it is, what time is visiting allowed?" Somehow I knew as I asked I would not like the answer.
"Mrs Potter is very ill, she is very old now you know, she was a hundred and forty seven this year, as for St Mungo's, it is a wizard hospital. You could not find it if you stood on its door step," he told me.
"I don't want to hear that, she means as much to me as a grandmother would, I have to see her, I have some apologising to do before it is to late," I was beginning to cry.
"How old are you Andy?" Mr Potter asked.
"I was fourteen four months ago, why?" I replied
"I was just remembering what it was like to be young. I felt the same way about Dumbledore all those years ago, you wait here I will see what I can do," he told me just before he walked to the side of the frame and vanished from view.
I sat and remembered the day we had first met and began to remember all the times we had met in the past few what now seemed very short weeks, a thought suddenly struck me as odd, I remembered some of the times I had walked her home from the shop in the village, each time she had invited me in for a cup of tea, I had never noticed that as she entered the house her clothes had always changed in the same way the house did, outside was drab and almost ruin like, but inside it looked like a grand manor house and she always looked as though she belonged there, all the ragged clothes were changed, sometimes even her hair was different, odd that I had never noticed until she was not in the house with us.
Five minutes after Mr Potter left I heard a strange voice call my name, "Andrew are you there?"
I answered without thinking, "I'm in the library, waiting for Mr Potter."
An old man with a long white beard that almost touched the floor, and hair that reached down to his waist, came through the door way. I had never seen him before but I knew who he was, there was a great family likeness to my friend Mrs Potter's other portraits.
"Minister Weasley?" I asked as he put a hand gently on my shoulder.
"The one and only," he smiled at me, "I am told by Harry that you are the young Muggle friend who has helped Hermione."
I nodded my head, flinching as my neck reminded me I had twisted it a little while before. Mr Weasley was a very tall man, I was supposed to be tall but he stood over me making me feel small, he had to be well over six foot six.
"Mrs Potter, how is she, will she be alright?" I was desperate to know.
"I will take you to see her if you are not afraid?" Mr Weasley said kindly.
I decided I liked him already, he had a look of calm about him, and I had read the book in which he had written about Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and him self, Ronald Weasley, I knew he was a loyal and fiercely loving friend and brother.
I think he knew what I would say when he said I could go to see my friend, so I gave him my answer without even thinking about it.