A/N: Hopefully you won't be too bored, but it's a strange thing being where Ginny and Hermione find themselves and I wanted to experience a little of it with them. :)

I should also reassure you, that although I haven't finished writing the whole story(I'm up to 40 chapters so far), I know exactly where it's going...so it's not aimless, I'm just enjoying these characters again. :)

6: Unexpectedly Expected

Hermione and Ginny walked forward into the house slowly; wands held out in front of them, walking so slowly and gently so they could hear any noises within the house.

They walked into a hallway, which was quite narrow with lilac coloured wallpaper with the pattern of grape vines running through it; the vines ending with pictures of big purple grapes at various places. There was a smell about the place, not unpleasant, but the kind a person associates with the house of a very elderly relative. Moth balls, mixed with dust and just a touch of lavender.

As they continued to edge down the hallway the front door closed behind them by itself. It didn't slam, but the door clicking shut made them both jump and spin around, ready to hex any unexpected intruder.

Ginny immediately walked back to the door, and finding a handle on this side, pushed down on it. Expecting the worst, and with Hermione holding her breath, both women ready to find themselves locked in, they were relieved when Ginny was able to open the door effortlessly again.

"Make ya blinkin' mind up, will ya? Out or in?" said a voice. It seemed the iron phoenix head door knocker could speak.

"Why didn't you speak earlier?" Ginny asked it, disgruntled.

"I had a flippin' key in my chops, dint I?" it replied.

"Yes, but you didn't speak even when you let go of it, when we were looking for the lock?" Hermione questioned, having walked back to the open door where Ginny was conversing with the door knocker.

"Had to be be sure you were what you said you was," the phoenix replied.

"How does a door knocker do that?" asked Ginny, puzzled.

"Oh, I don't know how to do that meself, gawd blimey I'm a door knocker, ain't I? No, if you weren't what you were 'sposed to be, then the moment you stepped foot in the house, you'd have been chucked out on your arse!"

"How nicely put," said Hermione drily.

"This is Dumbledore's house, right?" Ginny asked.

"Yes," the phoenix replied.

"And?" Ginny prodded.

"And what?" the phoenix rolled its eyes at them, unimpressed.

"And where is he? He's not here, is he? Nor Aberforth?" asked Hermione.

"Of course they're not here, you knocked, remember?" said the phoenix. "Stone the bleedin' crows, I thought one of you was 'sposed to be the brightest witch of her age. Or was it The Age? Brightest witch of somethin'?"

"What?" Hermione gasped, completely taken aback, clasping a hand to her chest. Ginny had turned her head to stare at Hermione, her face pale.

"What what?" the door knocker asked, oblivious to anything he had said to cause the look of astonishment from the visitors.

"Did...," Hermione tried to compose herself and find the right words. "Was I expected?"

"In a manner of speakin'," the phoenix answered. "As I said, I'm just a door knocker. I was told there might be a visitor, a Hermyhoney Grunger, or somethin'. Anyway she's the only one who can get inside like this, so you must be her. I don't know nothin' else."

Ginny let out a laugh. "Hermyhoney Grunger? I like it!"

"How is it that Ginny didn't get thrown out?" Hermione asked, refusing to get distracted.

"Don't ask me, I'm just a door knocker," the phoenix said yet again. "But if she's able to get in, then she's meant to be here, ain't she?"

"I don't think we'll get much more of any use out of 'ironhead' here," said Ginny.

"Oi, I heard that!"

"Oh shut up!" said Ginny stepping back and closing the door again, shutting off the mumbles of complaint from the phoenix.

Hermione was staring ahead at nothing, deep in thought. The whole realization that she or even they were expected was astonishing. It was disconcerting, unsettling and incredibly creepy.

"So, should I check upstairs and you check downstairs?" asked Ginny, getting Hermione's attention.

"No," the brunette said without hesitation. "We stay together. Harry and I nearly made the mistake of splitting up in a Godric's Hollow house, and were close to becoming supper for Nagini before You Know Who turned up. We've been told it's Dumbledore's house and we were expected, but I've learned not to trust things at face value anymore."

Seemingly recovering her composure and sense of purpose, Hermione held out her wand and walked down the hallway again, Ginny behind her with her wand at the ready too. Repeating a spell she had spoken, what seemed like an eternity ago, when entering Grimmauld Place, Hermione cast the homenum revelio spell to see if anyone was in the house. There was no reply and no apparent result from the spell.

A closed door was on their right, halfway down the hallway. Hermione gently turned the door knob, hearing a loud squeak; she gently pushed the door open, creaking on its hinges, adding to their apprehension.

The two girls were faced with an empty sitting room. It was a comfortable size and could be classed as cosy, with lots of light coming through the one large window; it had cream-coloured walls and dark beams stretching across the ceiling. There were two old comfortable dark green leather armchairs and a matching sofa. Also in the room were a couple of small side tables and two wooden cabinets, with some fairly ordinary ornaments of cats and birds in them and on them, next to ornaments of hippogriffs and dragons.

There were a couple of muggle paintings on the walls, and it looked like an ordinary cottage sitting room, with a modest fireplace in the centre of what they assumed was the middle wall of the house; above it was a small mantlepiece with an old clock. Hermione made a mental note, that if the house was safe, she would come back here and set her watch to the correct time.

Despite how ornate and packed with strange instruments Dumbledore's office had been at Hogwarts, Hermione could imagine Dumbledore living here at the cottage comfortably. He might have resented the homely quiet atmosphere of it when he was a young wizard, but the only Dumbledore they had known, would have been happy here.

Ginny walked over to another door leading from the sitting room. As Hermione had done, she held her wand ready, eased the handle on the door, and opened the door slowly. Peeping around the doorway, they could see a lovely oak table and a couple of chairs around it, with a mahogany sideboard cabinet along one wall.

"Looks like the dining room," Ginny said.

They both guessed that of the two doors leading from the dining room, one would be to the kitchen. Taking the same care and caution as before, they were proven right, with the second door leading to a study, with a large desk and bookcases stacked with old volumes and tomes. Hermione would normally have itched to have inspected the books, but her priority here was to make sure they were safe and to get their bearings.

In the kitchen there was another fireplace, kitchen sink and an old range stove. There were many cupboards and a small table in the centre of the room with a couple of chairs as well. A door led off to the hallway and another door, which was shorter, and would require a taller person to duck their head, opened into a small pantry.

"Food!" Ginny said, unashamedly delighted by the sight in the pantry.

There were several very edible items on the shelves; bread, which looked, oddly, quite fresh; some vegetables, cans of various things and tins of biscuits.

"Not just yet, Ginny," Hermione warned. "Let's check the whole house first, okay?"

Ginny's stomach growled its response, but its owner knew her friend was right.

Almost in a full circle they found themselves in the hallway again and carefully climbed the narrow staircase. To their relief they found the upstairs to be safe also, with two bedrooms each housing a large four-poster bed, a third bedroom which had been converted into a kind of second study or storage room and a small bathroom.

As each room had yielded nothing but normality and seeming safeness, Hermione could feel the tension dropping from within her, almost to the point she forgot they were back in 1943 and looking around Dumbledore's house in Godric's Hollow, and all that after talking to a door knocker who seemed to have expected her and possibly Ginny too.

"I'm glad about that," Hermione said after closing the door on the bathroom, which actually contained a flush toilet.

"Glad about what?" Ginny asked.

"A bathroom and flushing loo!" said the older girl, smiling.

"Oh?"

"Old cottages in villages like this in the 1940s didn't often have bathrooms at all, and the loo was usually a little shed at the bottom of the garden and consisted of a wooden plank with a hole over a cesspit," explained Hermione as Ginny wrinkled her nose at the thought of it. "Or you had to use a chamberpot."

"I agree, I'm glad about the bathroom too!" Ginny said, laughing.

Before they descended the stairs again, they both used the toilet, and then made their way to the kitchen, feeling a little more relaxed.

Hermione didn't stay in the kitchen, much to Ginny's almost despair, and walked through to the dining room and into the study.

"I thought we could maybe, you know, eat?" the redhead suggested about as subtly as a bang over the head with a boulder.

"In a minute, Gin," Hermione said. "I just feel, there ought to be something...here," she said as she dragged a hand along the spines of the old books on one of the book cases.

Hermione went around the impressive desk and sat on the chair there, looking at the papers on the desk, for something she hoped might help them. There were papers on rune translations and a couple of old letters from the editor of Transfiguration Today. She looked at the four small drawers to the desk, two either side of where she sat. None of them were locked, but what drew her eye was a little brandiron mark on one of the drawers, of a lion rampant; a Gryffindor lion.

Smiling, with a sense of hope and expectation she opened the branded drawer. There were several old quills and blank pieces of parchment, and underneath the writing implements was a cream envelope. Hermione picked it up and however much she had tried to accustom herself to their current situation she couldn't prevent her jaw from dropping and letting out a sound that was a cross between a gasp and a whoop.

"What is it?" Ginny asked. She had been standing in the doorway watching her friend, but now walked forward to the desk, to see what had been found; walking around it to stand by her side.

In Hermione's slightly trembling hands was the cream envelope, which she placed onto the desk as gently as if it was made of paper-thin glass and that it might break if handled too heavily. It was then Ginny saw why Hermione had let out a surprised reaction. On the envelope, written in very familiar, thin, slanted handwriting was "For Hermione Granger".

"Bloody hell!" Ginny said, in equal awe.

"Right," said Hermione, taking a huge breath. "Things just got a whole lot weirder!"

"I should say so!" agreed Ginny. "There again, what were you looking for anyway?"

"I just wondered if there was a clue to how to contact Dumbledore or a note to say, 'help yourself to the pantry', because I didn't like taking things without permission. I was looking for a note like that, I never thought...this!"

"Well, are you going to open it?"

"Yes," said Hermione.

Taking another deep breath and reaching her fingers out to the envelope again, almost hardly daring to touch it, in case it disintegrated, she turned it over and briefly studied the sealing wax, which had been stamped with a Hogwarts seal.

Hermione carefully peeled up the seal and removed the folded paper from inside the envelope. She flattened it out, and saw the page had more of the same slanted handwriting, and glanced to see it was indeed signed by 'Albus Dumbledore', as she read it out loud, shaking her head at various points.

Dear Hermione,

I imagine you are deeply troubled, and indeed it is deeply troubling that you should be here and have to read this letter, for it signifies events have occurred that I so hoped would not come to pass.

There are some things that I can not explain to you because I myself do not know; when we meddle with time it becomes highly dangerous to know certain things at certain times. Therefore I apologize in advance for not being able to answer all your questions, of which, I'm sure you have many.

As you may suspect, you arrival is not unexpected and has been in arrangement for some time. I am hoping that my colleagues have given you the necessary framework with which to carry out the task we require of you.

I regret I can not come to you straight away every time you may require it, for we all wish to leave no suspicion or trace, but I will help if I can and when I can. The painting in the spare bedroom may be of use in that case.

Please do make yourself at home while you stay here; my home is your home and you can Apparate and Disapparate safely in the back garden, the house itself is warded. You shouldn't even be aware of our brave muggle friends patrolling the skies or the enemies they oppose.

Lastly, I suspect that you are not alone, and probably have a Weasley with you, yes? Two heads are always better than one, don't you think?

Warmest regards,

Albus Dumbledore

Hermione placed the letter in front of her on the desk in a kind of numb trance. Ginny was obviously having trouble standing without swaying and she thudded her backside resignedly onto the corner of the desk, sitting there feeling stunned.

"Are we just pawns on a chess board?" Hermione said, not angrily, but flatly. "What on earth have we got ourselves into, Ginny?"

"I don't know," the redhead replied, troubled. "It's like you were expected to be here all along? And either Ron or someone from my family with you too? It's crazy! The whole thing is crazy!"

"You notice he thinks we know why we're here? And he assumes we made our way to the house, like we knew that's what we were supposed to do?"

Ginny nodded. "Yeah, and it also sort of sounds like he can't tell us everything either, or doesn't know?"

"Hmm," uttered Hermione thinking. "I think we need to talk with him as soon as we can. We know nothing about what the hell we're supposed to be doing here. Maybe he knows enough to hint at the path we're supposed to be on?"

"I agree, we need to talk to him," the younger girl nodded. "But...but first, let's have something to eat. Please?"

Hermione couldn't help but smile at her friend, and she was a little hungry too, despite the nerves and nagging doubts about their predicament.

"Come on then," Hermione said, rising from the desk, getting hold of Ginny's hand and pulling her along behind her to the kitchen.

In the pantry Hermione found a can of vegetable soup and thought it was the perfect thing for the current situation. The house didn't seem to be suffering from the rationing the muggle part of the village was enduring. Ginny had already set to lighting the stove and finding up a saucepan to heat up the soup. Hermione found up some plates and bowls, cut up some bread and got Ginny started on making a pot of tea. They could have chosen to use their wands, but there was something theraputic and calming about preparing things the slow way. The two of them decided to eat in the kitchen, and had everything laid out ready on the small table by the time the soup was ready.

It tasted like a feast, and it dawned on Hermione that she couldn't remember the last time she had eaten and suspected it had been a while for Ginny too. A bowl of hot soup and a cup of tea worked wonders for their state of mind, although they didn't talk that much as they ate.

They both wiped their bowls clean with some bread and sat back, satisfied, as they drank their cups of tea.

"That's so much better," Ginny said.

Hermione laughed. "Yes, it is. At least you'll stop whinging about being hungry for five minutes, anyway!"

Ginny stuck her tongue out at her friend, but had to laugh too. "I suppose our next job is contacting Dumbledore?" she asked.

"Yes. Do you realize, we still don't know the date yet?" Hermione said annoyed. "I thought I might find something in the study, but there wasn't anything with a date on it."

"Well, we can ask Dumbledore, or maybe before then, this painting upstairs?" Then Ginny had a thought and suggested, "What about buying a newspaper from the post office in the village?"

"I don't have any money," Hermione said.

"You must have some muggle money in that bag of yours?"

"Yes, I have some muggle money, but it's no use in 1943," said Hermione, and seeing Ginny's confused expression she continued. "Britain used a different system of money before 1971. Instead of pounds and pence, there were pounds, shillings and pence. There were some odd coin names and shapes too. I don't know enough to even transfigure the money I have into what we need."

Ginny just nodded her head slightly, trying to think of something else, then another idea did come to her. "What about asking 'iron-chops' on the door?"

Hermione stood up, walked through to the hall and opened the front door; Ginny followed her when she saw her course of action.

"What do ya want now?" the phoenix asked.

"Do you know what the date is today?" Hermione asked in a clear voice.

"Oh my giddy aunt, is there anythin' you do know?" it asked in a derogatory tone.

"Look, we just want to know the date for today?" Hermione asked again.

"I know the day, but the date? How should I know? I'm a door knocker!"

"Yeah, a bloody useless one!" Ginny said, annoyed.

"I'll have you know..."

"Shut up!" Hermione said shutting the door with a small slam, blocking out whatever else the phoenix was babbling on about. "Well, that exhausts that particular avenue," she said.

Giving a small sigh, Hermione led the way up the stairs and pushed open the door to the third and spare bedroom, the one which looked like a second study. They had seen no paintings in the other bedrooms so assumed it must be in this one. Walking right into the room this time, they turned and saw a large painting on the wall; that is to say they saw a large frame which currently showed an empty painting, of a highbacked chair.

"Great," Ginny said glumly. "Nothing or no one is home."

Hermione walked right up to the frame. "Hello?" she called hopefully, although not entirely confident. "Anyone there?"

There was no answer, not even so much as a shuffling sound of someone just out of frame.

"So here we have yet another useless painting which no doubt normally holds a portrait of some stuck-up poncy pillock who never shows up when you need them," said an angry Ginny. Hermione could only agree with her, after her dealings with the temperamental Phineas Nigellus Black.

"Stuck-up? Poncy? Pillock?" said a haughty female voice. "A fine way to treat a person of my station. I've a good mind to walk away again and stay away."

Ginny looked at Hermione in surprise and mouthed a silent 'sorry' to her friend, in case she had messed things up with an important contact, because she couldn't hold her tongue.

"We're sorry," Hermione said firmly, directing her voice towards the painting. "We're tired, in a strange situation and a little on edge. Please talk to us?"

"Hmph," the voice said. "As it turns out I don't have any choice, but manners do not cost anything, you know?"

"Yes, sorry," Hermione said apologetically. "We need some help. Your help." She added the last bit, guessing that like most portraits this one had some vanity and self-importance.

"All right," the portrait woman said.

The two young women watched as a very elegant woman entered the frame, wearing lovely blue robes, with greying hair tied up in a fancy style on top of her head. She looked a little familiar to Hermione, but she couldn't quite place her. The portrait woman sat down on the chair and folded her hands in her lap.

"What do you require?" the woman asked.

"I don't mean to be rude," Hermione began. "But who are you?"

"Who am I? That doesn't sound like needing help, if all you want to do is gossip?" the woman said scornfully.

"I just thought if I knew your name, I could address you more politely," said a very quick-thinking Hermione.

"Oh, I see," the portrait said, thoughtful. "I'm Kendra Dumbledore."

Ginny gasped, and Hermione just nodded, knowing why the woman had looked familiar; she had seen a photo of her in Rita Skeeter's book on Dumbledore. It made them both feel very odd indeed, having only recently been looking at Kendra's grave and now they were talking to her.

"You're Professor Dumbledore's mother?" Ginny asked, astounded.

"If you want to put it that way, yes," said Kendra, sounding as though half of her was pleased that her son was so highly regarded, and half insulted that they thought of her as only secondary in importance. "So what is it you need my help with?"