Author's notes:
Bear with me as I try to sort out the dates involved with this Fanfiction. I've somehow made the dates all discombobulated. It is the day of Harry's Birthday in the start of this chapter, July 31st. Please ignore any inconsistencies due to dates. Thanks for reading! I appreciate all reviews! Response to most of your reviews at the bottom! Warning: Animal death in this chapter.
I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make a penny in profits. All rights go to J.K. Rowling. Your books are an inspiration to all.
OoOoOoOo
Deep within the Ministry, snaking down through the corridors and twisted hallways, a place no ordinary Ministry member had gone before, was a room. Underneath the belly of the working class, these abandoned courtrooms and offices were shrouded in darkness, the light of day abandoning them long ago. Nothing could be heard except the ever present weight of silence.
It was here Quirell stepped, picking his way across the empty halls. His footsteps echoed against the corridors, his breath harsh against the surrounding quiet. A pulsing, green glow lit his way, illuminating the small obstacles within his path. Quirell crept across the ancient halls and the peeling paint, the doors creaking sinisterly as he passed. He did not wish to wake the beasts that slept here, not yet.
White knuckled hands pressed into the glass, holding it firm in his grasp. The jar not only lit his way, it was his purpose. Quirell at last reached the end of the corridor, a thickset door blocking his way. There was significance to this door, with the delicate silver runes etched on its arch, and the metal bars fastened across its width.
The jar within Quirell's hands pulsed in an excited, aggressive way. It was reassurance enough for Quirell, and he stepped forward, biting his thumb and smearing his blood across the door. There was no need for theatrics, this door did not require a ceremony, and for that Quirell was grateful. He could not leave the jar alone for a moment, not even for this.
He watched as his blood sunk into the wood, disappearing from his sight. A long minute stretched out before him, and for a moment he feared his blood was not enough, not for the magnitude of the task set before him.
But he feared for naught, as the door groaned and shifted, a hiss like breaking of a cask filled him with triumph. The door pulled open to admit him, and he crossed the threshold, assessing the room from what he could see. The jar in his hands rattled, and green light was thrown across the room, casting its features in high relief.
Quirell's breath hung in his throat, for what he saw was not another worthless courtroom. His Lord was powerful indeed, to know the existence of such a room. He stepped quickly to the altar, a stone basin at his feet. His hand fumbled with his robe, searching for the red filled vial that accompanied him for this journey. He pulled off the cork with one hand, pouring its contents into the granite basin. The jar's contents swirled dangerously, black wisps shooting out to hit the inside glass before joining the green light.
Quirell carefully twisted the cap of the jar, opening it over the basin. Much like tar, the light within the jar sludge out slowly, slithering to the bottom of the basin. The light was absorbed by the blood, casting Quirell in darkness. Quirell retrieved his wand, casting the worthless jar aside. His voice slid over the air, magic falling from his lips to his wand. All the candles in the room flared into existence at once, bathing the room with flickering, shadowy light. Bones of past victims littered the floor, the skulls of some mythical beast hung from the walls. The skeleton of a giant snake hung from the rafters. Filth and gore lay on the outlines of the room, cast their in a murderer's haste. But most pleasing, at least to Quirell, was the rune circle etched into the floor, and the ceremonial knives and wands displayed on the altar.
Like his Lord instructed him, he took a wand and a knife from the altar, raising them both above his head in thanks. He moved to the circle etched in the floor.
From within his robes he pulled out a stunned rabbit, its fur seemingly to pure for the surroundings it found itself in.
"A sacrifice given, from the blood of an animal." Quirell slit the rabbit's throat, blood spilling past his hands and onto the floor below. The animal died quickly, the light in its eyes fading. The runes surrounding Quirell began to glow, sensing the start of a ritual.
"Life from a slave, forcedly taken." Quirell chanted, pulling from his pocket a clasp of brown hair. He sliced the hair in half with his knife; he let it fall to the ground like the rabbit before it. Somewhere in the world, a man collapsed, dead before hitting the ground.
"Body of a servant, willingly received." Quirell sliced his palm, adding to the mess pooling at his feet. He curled his injured hand around the wand he had taken from the altar. The runes on the floor flashed faster and faster, blinding him on an increasing tempo. The air around him seemed to whine, stirring his cloak and hair in an aggressive form of power.
"Soul from the caster, retrieve your form!" Quirell shouted, pointing the blood stained wand at the basin. The contents of the basin flew at him, striking Quirell in his face, legs and body. He fell to his knees from the force, but he struggled back into standing position. He could not see, but he could hear the wind around him howl louder, push him stronger.
He opened his mouth to say the last words, but the blood and essence from the basin forced its way down his throat. He gagged, his body convulsing trying to expel the foreign substance. His insides began to burn, a slow fire rising to head. He had only moments left before the ceremony would destroy him, unless he finished it now. He screamed, hoping some words would come out coherent.
"Body of your humble servant, I receive you!" Fire seemed to roar inside him, taking over his mortal body. Slick and unstoppable, Quirell could only scream in agony as he convulsed on the floor. The wind screamed around him, the runes flashing bright one last time. Then, at once, the room was descended into darkness once again, leaving Quirell alone.
OoOoOoOoOo
Dumbledore waited patiently by the fireplace. He stroked his beard, his brow furrowed as he thought of the summer's events. His bright eyes were dimmed of his normal twinkle, as he considered the conundrum that was now Harry's situation.
Dumbledore had been very busy since the arrival of two special children to Hogwarts. Owls hadn't stopped delivering letters since the start of July. Word had gotten out about the famous Boy-Who-Lived had entered the wizarding community.
Albus Dumbledore worked desperately to keep the impending trial under wraps, the last thing Harry needed was more attention. He knew he could not hide it forever, but he wanted to give young Harry some moment of peace before the world became outraged on his behalf.
Albus had been sure that the blood protection of Harry's mother would shelter the boy for most of his life. It was this thinking that blinded him to the rest. Albus had only considered Voldemort when devising the perfect guardians for Harry. If he had put in more thought, or listened to McGonagall, Harry could have lived a different life, would have become a different boy.
It infuriated him that the only warning something was terribly wrong was the acceptance letters to Harry. They all came back, the owls confused and confounded; with no word or reply. Albus had never seen the like before, only on people charmed with the Unplottable spell. A spell he knew had not been cast on the cupboard under the stair. The address itself was distressing, and when no letter could get through Albus decided to send Hagrid to fetch Harry early. A wise choice at last, though it came far too late to save Harry.
The half giant was immune to most spells, something that came in handy in situations such as these. He couldn't be confounded or repelled. Hagrid had been pleased to go; Albus suspected Hagrid also disagreed where he left Harry. How he wished that he had listened! But now he wondered who had spelled Harry's house? When such a thing should have been impossible due to his mother's sacrifice? Only a magical relative could do any magic on the house, yet Harry had no surviving wizarding relatives!
But even that riddle could not redeem Albus, it gave him no excuse. He was at fault for Harry's childhood. He could only hope Harry would forgive him as he grew. Albus prayed he did not create another Tom Riddle, it would be the end of the wizarding world as they knew it. He flinched as his mind flew to connect the likeness between the two people. Both half-bloods, both grew up in unloving households, both having the right to curse at the world.
He wouldn't let that happen to Harry. He had already failed the young boy, and he must not do so again. He nodded to himself and turned to his phoenix, who was watching him with curious eyes.
"Ah Faux, I have done a terrible wrong. It surprises even me, how much damage one mistake can cause." Dumbledore stroked the phoenix's beak, while it trilled a tune that calmed Dumbledore almost immediately. Surely, if he was a lost cause, Faux would desert him. And since he hadn't yet, Albus knew he could fix the wrongs he created.
July was fast approaching its end, only a month before students would be swarming the empty halls of Hogwarts once more. As he tried to plan ahead, his fireplace flashed a bright green and a man stepped out.
"Ah Severus, do come in." Albus observed the man who swept into his office. Dressed completely in black, as usual. It was no wonder he seemed so pale, even after all these years. The black simply washed out any color that was there. He seemed happier as of late, and Albus was happy for him. Maybe Severus would finally move on and bury his guilt.
"Lemon drop?" Albus offered, extending the bowl in offering.
"Why have you called me here, Headmaster? Though I have to say the empty castle is an improvement to the grounds, with those incompetent children gone." Snape smirked, his face curling in a sinister sneer.
"I am sorry to take you away from your summer plans Severus, but surely you have read the Prophet as of late?" Albus eased into his chair, picking a lemon flavored candy for himself. He popped one into his mouth, his lips puckering slightly.
If it was possible, Snape's sneer widened. "Of course not, The-Boy-Who-Lived? Potter." He spat the name out like it was contaminated. "I would not read that filth if they paid me."
Albus removed his wand and waved at his desk. A newspaper plopped down in front of Snape. Snape picked it up, scanning the headlines.
"Harry Potter Hospitalized. Boy-Who-Lived Scandal, Where is Potter Now." Snape deadpanned, raising his eyes from the paper.
"They of course exaggerated the brat's life. Probably claiming his guardians didn't give him enough cookies in his infancy, the spoilt child" Snape tossed the paper back onto Dumbledore's desk, a scowl darkening his features.
Albus frowned, shaking his head. "It is saddening to me that you would say that, they do not even have the story of his abuse yet. I see however you still harbor a grudge for the Potters."
Snape growled. "I will hate Potter to the end of my days! Why did you call me here? To make me feel bad about a bully's son? Because it won't work Albus."
"Look at page twelve." Dumbledore suggested.
Snape snapped the newspaper open, ignoring the other headlines until he found what he was looking for.
"Headmaster to blame?" Snape read aloud, arching an eyebrow.
Dumbledore waved a hand for him to continue.
Snape cleared his throat, his voice soft and deadly. "There was quite a commotion yesterday when none other than Harry Potter appeared in the Leaky Cauldron. The mysterious Boy-Who-Lived seemed worse for wear; his clothes tattered and tacked up glasses. A crowd of well-wishers were thrown off by none other than Poppy Pomfrey, the Healer of Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Another mystery child was in the company of Harry Potter as well. The children were spotted in Diagon Alley several times in the company of a Mr. Rubeus Hagrid, also connected to Hogwarts as a grounds Keeper, as they shopped for the school year.
Mr. Potter's appearance was reported to be small and thin, a sickly appearance throughout. What has happened to a young eleven year old Harry Potter? Why was he in the constant presence of the Healer of Hogwarts? Is he suffering, and how did he get in such a state?
How traumatized is our idol, Savior of the Wizarding world, the Boy-Who-Lived?
It is with no surprise that I report, Albus Dumbledore took control of Harry Potter's well-being the night of Lily and James Potter's death. Vanquisher of the Dark Lord, Harry Potter all but disappeared that night, but the wizarding world was reassured Harry Potter was in good hands. This is not unexpected, but I raise the question. If the great Albus Dumbledore cannot protect Harry Potter, how I ask, can he protect the children of the wizarding community in Hogwarts?
Why was Harry Potter hidden away from the collective wizarding community in the first place? If the Dark Lord did indeed perish that night, why would a small boy need to be squirreled away for his own protection? Who are Harry Potter's guardians? What is Albus Dumbledore up to?
Whether Mr. Potter is simply sick from the common cold or something far more sinister, how will we get answers? " Snape finished, obvious disgust on his face.
"What drivel is this? Who wrote this?" Snape checked the article. "Of course, Rita Skeeter. An idol of the Wizarding world? What a pack of lies."
"Yes well, people do feel quite strongly about Harry." Albus pointed out gently.
Snape leaned back into his chair, examining his fingernails. "So the Potter boy looked sick, I don't see why they are in an uproar. I am sure the boy is loving all the attention."
"Severus, the boy was abused by his relatives. I don't think he is the type of person who wants his business thrown out for the entire world to see." Albus chided gently.
Snape snorted. "He is a Potter isn't he? Look Albus, I've read the letters you sent. But I don't feel pity for him. I'm sure he can buy himself a new set of parents and be done with it."
"Severus!" Albus was shocked. "You can't honestly believe that!"
Snape sighed, holding up his hands in apology, but remaining silent. "What is it exactly you want me to do?"
Albus's eyes seem to regain their former twinkle, and Snape knew he had something up his sleeve. "Well, I have several plans you see. I need you to do something for me…"
OoOoOoOo
On the Hogwarts grounds, temporary peace had settled over the castle and lawn. The magic of Hogwarts felt at rest, and this was expressed by the pleasant atmosphere it created. Where it was boiling summer heat in the rest of the world, at Hogwarts, summer was a time of rest and cool breezes. Summer for the Hogwarts Magic was a time of rejuvenation before the haul of the oncoming school year. Its stairs were at rest, the classrooms aired. Hogwarts felt its emptiness however, and it needed children and hardship and laughter reigning free throughout its halls. But a few months each year, it relinquished its need to be full, and enjoyed its rest under the hot summer sky.
"Happy Birthday Harry." Hermione whispered, nudging the boy next to her. The sun basked them in its golden rays; it had nearly reached its zenith in the sky above them. It was another warm sunny day on the grounds of Hogwarts, and they were spending the heat of the early afternoon lounging by the lake. Harry seemed content for the moment, and Hermione was enjoying the feeling of lethargy that had entered her limbs. They were sprawled out on the grass, their faces turned upwards towards the clouds. The moment felt timeless, with the small breeze and sun and lying in the grass, Hermione could imagine for a moment that she had nothing to think about.
Harry sighed, rolling over to face her. He stretched, his arms reaching beyond his head as his mouth morphed into a long yawn.
"Thanks Hermione, I think this is the best birthday I've ever had."
Hermione smiled, taking his words at face value. She still didn't know much about Harry, and asking questions about his life could wait another day. Earlier that morning McGonagall and Pomfrey allowed them a slice of cake to accompany their lunch, and Harry had burst into tears. When Harry told them he had never had a cake of his own before, Hermione could see their shock in their usually unflappable caretakers.
So Hermione didn't doubt Harry for a minute when he claimed this was his best birthday. She was selfishly glad she was the one with him on his best day. This perhaps tied her to Harry, as his best friend forever.
"I'm glad Harry." Hermione rose from her sun induced stupor, reminded of what she had brought with her. She stretched her arms high in a stretch much like Harry's before letting them fall back to the ground beside her. She pulled the book bag off her shoulder and neck, rummaging around through its contents until she found what she was looking for.
From the moment they had returned from Diagon Alley, she had taken to carrying around her schoolbooks. The sturdy cloth bag was holding up well to weight of the books. McGonagall offered to performer spell to make it lighter, but she had refused. She found the familiar weight comforting. Reading whenever she wanted help keep her mind from overthinking things.
She pulled out a small wrapped present. She had enlisted Madame Promfrey's help with it, having neither the money for a present or wrapping.
"Here," she said, handing him the package. Her mouth twitched into a nervous smile, she allowed her hair to fall over her face.
Harry scrambled up into a sitting position, taking the present from her hands like it was a sacred artifact.
"What is this Hermione?" Harry asked her, looking hopefully at the package in his hands.
"It's your birthday present, from me. Madame Pomfrey helped a lot as well." Hermione stated matter-of-factly. "I thought a lot about what to get you. Open it and see what's inside."
Hermione watched with trepidation as Harry unwrapped the gift. What if he didn't like it? She stilled her fidgeting hands, chiding herself.
Harry unwrapped the pale blue paper with a delicacy Hermione didn't know existed.
At last the paper fell away and Harry's eyes roamed the small black object in his hands. He turned over the black object, which was smaller than a book. It was completely square all around, with nothing to distinguish its purpose. Harry's eyes could not hide his confusion, even as he tried to thank her.
"Thanks Hermione, I don't know what to say." Harry smiled at her, and even though he had no idea what he had received, he was still ecstatic someone remembered him. Hermione could see it in his posture, and his eyes. You couldn't hide happiness. Not as well as fear.
Hermione hid a smile as she took the black object from his hands. "This is a wizarding equal to movies Harry. I remember you were excited about that Quidditch Shop. And you were so interested in the stands. I thought you might want to see what the sport actually looked like when it was played, and Madame Pomfrey had one of these in her confiscation box."
Harry's smile was wider now, and he examined the box with greater eagerness. "Wow, thank you so much Hermione! How does it work?"
"Well we just have to find a dark place and Madame Pomfrey said to tap it with our wands." Hermione smiled.
Harry pushed his thick rimmed glasses further onto his face, visibly jumpy in his excitement. "That means we can watch it in the Infirmary tonight!"
His boyish enthusiasm latched onto Hermione as she too became excited. "I wonder if Madame Pomfrey knows what popcorn is. Is that a muggle thing you think?" Hermione mused, tapping her fingers in the grass.
Harry beamed, already planning for a great night. "I have no idea, but I bet we could find out. But Hermione, how did you know it was my birthday?" Harry ran his fingers through his hair, rumpling it up even more. "I know Hagrid got me a present, but that wouldn't have given you enough time to get me something. I never told you."
"Oh! I've been meaning to tell you." Hermione reached around and rummaged through her bag again. She pulled out a large book and placed it on the ground between them. Hermione flipped through the dog eared pages before she found the page she wanted. The book looked old, but Hermione didn't know if it was because the book was old itself or the way they made books in the wizarding world made them look old.
"There is a whole chapter on you in Wizards of the Modern Ages. Chapter twenty-three. You're also mentioned on page three-hundred and ninety-four, and in the appendix.
"What!?" Harry grabbed the book from the ground, scanning the pages. His eyes stilled as he took in the photographs. Hermione jerked back when Harry exploded into the air. She watched, concerned, as Harry dug through his pockets, whipping out a scrap of something.
"Look, it can't be!" Harry shouted excitedly. Harry leaned the book towards her, comparing the picture in the book with the object in his hand. Hermione leaned closer. A weather beaten photo was grasped in her friend's hand. The edges were frayed and it was creased in several places, but there was no denying it. The people in the photo matched the ones in the book. The couple in the book waved enthusiastically, rocking a little bundle in their arms. Dark red hair and unruly black bent their heads over the little object in their arms. Every now and again they would look up, smiles adorning their faces.
Harry's finger traced the photo in the book. "Those are my parents Hermione," he breathed. "And to think all this time there were…were photos of them in this book, for anyone to see." His voice began to choke. "I wanted to hate him, my dad. Because my uncle told me he was a drunk. H-he told me that's why we crashed. And all this time, they were heroes."
Hermione could see emotion overcome her friend, Harry's eyes closed as he fought tears.
"And I hated him, Hermione. All this time!" His fist slammed down upon the pages. He swiped angrily at his face, wiping away any signs of tears. "What would they think about me? That I hate them?"
"Oh Harry!" Hermione carefully wrapped an arm around her friend. He seemed to cave in on himself, reminding Hermione how achingly small he really was. "You mustn't say that. Your parents loved you, and they would love you no matter what you thought of them. It isn't your fault you thought that. You had no reason not to believe your Uncle."
Harry remained silent, staring at the book in his hands. Hermione tried again, ignoring her own budding feelings of unhappiness. "Harry, parents always love their children, even when they break the rules or get into trouble. Why would your parents be any different? They love you, whether you are the Harry right now or the Harry they raised themselves. Even if you hated them, before you learned the truth. Because you are family. Family always love each other."
His face turned to her, his green eyes shone with intensity. "Thanks Hermione, you are the best friend I've ever had."
Hermione was a bit unsettled by Harry's graveness, but she knew it was his way of saying how much he cared. Her insides squeezed in giddiness at the success of her speech.
"You are my friend Harry, that's what friends do." Hermione told him just as seriously. Her chest suddenly felt lighter, a sense of contentment settled through her mind.
Harry leaned back into the grass, his muscles relaxing. "Will you read to me? About my parents?" His green eyes peeking out from his mop of hair.
Hermione nodded slowly, taking the book from his hands. She was curious why he didn't read it himself, but she didn't think much of it as she began to read from the start of the chapter, knowledge distracting her once again.
They laid back into the grass, Hermione reading aloud, Harry watching the clouds float by. In the corner of her eye Hermione could see Harry clutching the black box to his chest, a smile worth a thousand presents plastered on his face.
OoOoOoOo
Luna stepped out of the fireplace, leaving the green flames to die down behind her. The store she found herself in was a bustle of activity, and no one paid any heed to the lone girl winding her way through the cafe. The aroma of coffee and pumpkin juice wisped through the air, distracting more than one serious shopper to duck inside the busy establishment to pay for a drink. No one could mistake this for a muggle shop, as the wooden chairs and tables seemed a bit enthusiastic today, and could barely keep themselves on the floor. People seemed to be in good cheer, the chatter and laughter filling the space where there would be silence.
It was the same in the Main Alley as well, the sun warmed and brightened the day; a clear sky stretching passed the roofs and spires of Diagon Alley. Luna could easily lose herself in the crowd if she wanted. But today was not a normal day, she had errands to run. She couldn't become distracted today, no matter how opportune and beautiful distractions could be.
She broke away from the edges of the crowd and entered a small, hidden store backed away from the Main Alley. It seemed tiny passing by, with only one window displaying a banner with the name of the shop. The bell rang as she pushed the black door open, announcing her presence. Sounds of the street fell away as the door swung shut behind her. She navigated through the towering shelves and odd objects leaned or stacked dangerously. The store was cluttered with all sorts of useful and unusual items. One could find almost anything here, depending on the day you showed up. Luna had discovered her radish earrings here, and she prized that possession over most else.
In a short amount of time, after getting lost only once, she found herself at the front desk. A witch was leaned back in her chair, feet propped up on the counter. She was obviously engrossed with the large tome propped up in her lap, as she muttered words under her breath as her wand tapped absently against the page. The witch brushed away a stray brown hair that had fallen from her ponytail. She glanced up for a moment, aware of someone watching her.
The witch jumped, startled by Luna standing before her. The witch's booted feet fell down with a thump, as she straightened herself on the chair.
"Luna!" the witch exclaimed. "I didn't hear the bell ring. How long have you been standing there?"
"Not long, I was just admiring your use of tifflehorns, they do lend the wearer such concentration. I am not surprised you didn't notice me until now." Luna moved forward, picking up a scroll from the desk, turning it over thoughtfully.
"Um, yes. That's right." The witch cleared her throat, snapping the book closed. She rose from her chair, leaving the book on the desk as she straightened her clothes. Marie always wore muggle clothes, Luna had never seen her in any sort of respectable wizard wear. Secretly, Luna liked her a little more because of it. Luna thought she was interesting.
"How is your father doing Luna? He keeping up all right? I've been meaning to visit you, but this darn book as me cracked. I don't know how long I've been in here." Marie pulled her t-shirt to her nose and gave it a cautionary sniff.
The young witch wrinkled her nose. "A couple days it seems. Ever since I graduated from Hogwarts, time seems to pass me by without even noticing!"
Marie stretched, bones popping through her back. She exhaled, letting her arms drop. "So what brings you back this time? Did you run out of paints again? It's only been a week, I don't know how you go through so many."
Luna shook her head. "My paints are running low, but that was a month ago Marie. I need to shop for Hogwarts, and I know you wanted to come with me."
Marie shook her head and frowned. "A month? Are you sure about that?" The witch undid her hair, letting the brown lock fall down over her shoulders.
"Wait a minute, your ten, I am sure of that. I need a calendar." Marie rummaged through several of the desk drawers, presumably searching for a calendar. "You are still ten right? I didn't spend a year in here again did I?"
"I was sent a letter this year, Dumbledore himself came and told me. I don't know why it came early, but I suspect it has to do with something from the Ministy. The animals in the forest are talking again." Luna bit her lip, observing the hasty movements of her friend. "If you are too busy, I am sure the nargles will protect me. They do love a good shopping trip."
"What?" Marie looked up sharply. "Oh no, I meant what I said, I'll go shopping with you. It will be fun. Just let me tidy up. Do you know the date Luna? Oh Merlin!" Marie jerked her hands from the drawer, purple gel covering her hands.
"I knew I hadn't lost that!" Marie exclaimed, wiping her hands against her T-shirt.
"It's July thirty-first. You missed the equinox, but don't worry, there will be others." Luna leaned against the desk, trying to catch a peek at what caused the purple gel.
"I suppose you are right." Marie sighed, closing her eyes. "Well, let's get to it!" Marie grabbed her wand and murmured words under her breath. In a flash of light, new clothes appeared on her frame. Another spell seemed to ruffle her hair and clean it, leaving no trace of the state it used to be in.
Marie looked down at herself. "Well, I'm not a supermodel, but it will do. Do you have your Hogwarts list? You said July right? No cloak then." Marie patted her jeans, "Now where did I put my money pouch? Ah here it is."
Luna ignored her frantic friend, pulling the piece of parchment from her bag. It stated all the supplies she needed for her first year. Marie took it from the small girl's hands, looking over the list.
"Well, good to know they are always advancing the classes. I see three books on here they didn't have in my first year. Let's stack the stuff we can get from here first, then work our way down Diagon Alley. I'm starving, so I hope you like Italian food, they just opened up this new muggle one a couple blocks from the Leaky Cauldron."
Marie made her way through her shop, collecting the items on Luna's list that was stocked in the store. "Robes, check. I can fit them to your size in a moment. These are pretty good quality too. I have some of these books in the back. Oh, look at this! Enchanted parchment, I wonder when that showed up? Well you can have it; I know I hated copying notes. Pick yourself some quills and inks I have while I get these books in the back."
Marie disappeared behind a shelf, leaving Luna alone with a large supply of writing supplies to choose from. Some were self-inking or color changing, Marie would know for sure just by looking at them. The bookshelf in question was next to a table with all sorts of jewelry on it. Luna left the writing supplies for the moment, feeling herself pulled towards the circular table. She ran her hand over the gems, sapphire, ruby and emerald glinting up at her. There were more piled on the table then what was there last time she visited. She picked up a silver medallion, turning it over in her hands. It was one of the new pieces. Marie explained how her store worked once, why things just appeared.
Luna walked through the door of the newer shop, a much smaller, less cluttered shop. She approached Marie, the poor witch looked exhausted, scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment. Marie looked up from her desk, her face smoothing out into a warm smile. "Luna! How nice of you to visit me again."
Luna smiled, greeting her friend. "Where is your father?" Marie asked her, looking behind Luna, to the door.
"He's busy at work; he wouldn't have been able to take me. So I came myself." Luna told her.
Marie's face became reserved, "Well, I am not going to turn away my favorite customer. What can I do for you Luna?"
She shrugged, not really sure why she was here at all. So she asked a question instead. "How was your school year?"
"Good, very good. One more year to go and then I'm through. Learned some new spells, powerful ones. Something that will work this time."
"For your store?" Luna was curious, Marie was always searching for something.
"Exactly. Banishment, and retrieval. Where do all things we banish go? I think I've finally come across something that will help my store. After a certain amount of time passes, banished things should appear where I tell it to. I haven't tested it out yet, but I think it might work."
"That sounds like a dream." Luna told Marie seriously. "Like a wonderful dream."
Marie arched an eyebrow at her. "It will be more than a dream, it will be reality. Tell you what, first thing that comes through, you can have. If it isn't dangerous of course. I'm going to start testing next week, you should come around more often. I could use some help in the store."
"I would love too." Luna breathed.
"Luna…Luna!"
Luna jerked back from the table, blinking several times at Marie, who was beside her.
"You spazzed out there, you alright?" Marie asked, laying a hand on her shoulder.
Luna nodded, motioning to the books in her hands. "You found them all right? I'd hate to think they up and walked away to hide themselves."
Marie laughed, setting the books on top of the jewelry table. "Come on, pick a handful of these quills and let's get out of this stuffy shop. In fact just take all of them, these things show up a dime a dozen. I have like a million in the back. The store expanded again, it has a second story now. I remember my first year at Hogwarts. They didn't say you needed quills, so I spent the whole year borrowing from my House. Ravenclaw was not pleased."
Marie grabbed a handful of quills, grabbing the books and Luna's arm. Luna dropped the silver medallion back onto the table as she was pulled away. They thankfully made it back to the desk without any wrong turns. They stacked the supplies they found on the desk, and in no time at all they were outside in Diagon Alley.
Marie seemed paler in the sunlight, and she blinked like an owl adjusting to the light. "Wow, that sun is really bright today."
Luna smiled, taking her friends hand and leading her through the crowd. "Rowena would be proud of your dedication, but even she would suggest the need of sunlight at least once a week. When is the last time you have been outside? You should come with me when I paint. My friends would love you."
"Uh, huh. Your friends tried to eat my book last time I went with you. I think not. And I don't think it matters when the last time I was outdoors matters. It is filthy outdoors, you know that? See look!" Marie swiped a bug from her face, rolling her eyes at Luna.
"I love the outfit by the way. I'm all for supporting neon colors. What would you call that color on your pants?" Marie grinned, shading her eyes from the glare.
"I call it smudgy purple, and this vest is canary green. The robins in the forest love canary green. They say it reminds them of caterpillars." Luna smoothed the vest against her body, "They are partial to green though, so I can't take their word on it all the time.
"Oh yes, you mentioned that in the store. The animals are talking to you again?" Marie ducked into Flourish and Blots, consulting the list in her pocket.
Luna shook her head, following the witch. "They never stopped. But they haven't been making much sense to me lately. They were talking about things I couldn't understand, like the feeling of the singing. Like THE, important. THE Singing. It is all they can talk about. And it isn't just the birds," she explained, her arms being loaded with books.
"All the animals are talking about it. Even the Graphorn. I think whatever it is; it's going to happen soon." Luna dutifully followed the witch to the front counter, her arms much lighter as Marie stacked the books to pay.
"Woah, woah, woah, slow down there Luna. A Graphorn?" Marie pushed herself off the counter, narrowing her eyes. "Those are extremely dangerous! Does your father know you're hanging out with one?! Only trained Magizoologist's are supposed to work with those creatures."
"My father has been extremely busy working on an article about the Heliopaths. I'm sure if I told him though he would encourage me to get a photo and ask about its political views on goblins. If you're worried, I could always tell him, but Graphorns get so grumpy when someone asks about their political views. They just won't sit still after that." Luna drummed her fingers against the counter, frowning.
"That will be ten sickles, three knuts." The saleswoman told them.
"What? Oh right, here you go." Flustered, Marie handed over the money. She pushed her hair behind her ears, before waving her wand at the purchased textbooks. They disappeared with a crack, and they both left the counter and out into the sunny street once more.
"I don't think you should be allowed to run around the forest like you do, Luna. It's dangerous, one day you might come across an animal who doesn't want to talk, or can't talk at all. What will you do then? What if that Graphorn attacked you?" Marie shook her head, squeezing Luna's hand in her own. "I know you think if you treat every animal with gentleness and respect they will do the same in return, but not everything in this world is good and pure. There are evil creatures Luna."
"I just…" Marie hesitated, pulling her from the flow of the crowd to an empty spot in front of a store window. Marie kneeled down in front of her, her hands smoothing Luna's hair before grasping the tops of her arms. Marie's eyes searched the blue seas of Luna's.
"I just don't want to come outside one day and read a headline claiming you're missing, or some animal tore you up. For my piece of mind, stay away from anything larger than a dog? For me, please?"
Luna felt something inside her she hadn't experienced in a long while. Someone was… concerned, for her?
Marie seemed to take her silence as hesitation. "You're like my extremely little sister, who makes sure I haven't died off in that stuffy store. Just wait until you're off to Hogwarts. Please?"
Luna smiled, patting Marie's head softly. "The Graphorn left last week, he won't be back for a while. But I will stay out of the forest, the stars are warning me to stay near my nest anyway."
Marie laughed, her voice tinkling like falling glass. "Good then, well come on. Lots of shopping to do."
OoOoOoOo
Luna pushed her plate away, unable to eat another bite. Marie had a way of making her eat more than she was used to. The Italian place turned out to be pretty good. Luna suspected Marie had been here before, as she knew the menu like the back of her hand. Her own hand constantly strayed to her pocket, where her new wand rested.
"Well, it definitely wasn't your Plimpy soup, but it sure was tasty huh?" Marie sighed, pushing away her plate as well.
Luna nodded. "It certainly didn't take as long to brew."
Marie rubbed her stomach, groaning theatrically. "So, just to get this straight, you think Hogwarts called you a year early because of something within the Ministry? Because your friends told you?"
Luna tilted her head, considering her words. "There could be many explanations as to why. Some that I couldn't understand or not revealed to me yet. I am sure I will be told when the time is right. Don't you think?"
Marie pinched the bridge of her nose, her eyes squeezed closed. "Sure Luna. Of course. What did your Dad think about all this?"
"Well," Luna started dreamily, "At first I thought he would like to keep me close by, he has been every so lonely since mother left. But then he seemed glad I was leaving. He has been quite cheerful since he got the news."
"Ah, well I am sure he is just happy for you." Marie hid her worry at that statement. "What house do you want to be in?"
"Dad was in Hufflepuff, and he seems quite fond of it. My mother was in Ravenclaw. I hear Slytherin is quite nice though." Luna mused.
"Slytherin? Are you sure about that? I always thought they were a rather cold bunch. I suppose they protect their own though. Is that what you hear or is that what you want?" Marie pressed.
"I don't know really. I suppose the hat will, which is the good thing. How would we sort ourselves when we don't know what we want? But, Gryffindor's are all friends, that is what I heard. I wonder what that's like, sometimes. Friends."
"You'll find friends no matter what house you're in Luna. Trust me on that. Come on, the sun is going down, wouldn't want your dad to get worried." Marie rose, laying muggle money on the table.
"Hey, you can pick something out of my shop before you go, as a going-away present." Marie rocked on her heels. "You never know when a good present comes in handy."
OoOoOoOo
Dark shadows filled her dream, swirling and flickering. Hermione felt as if he could just reach out with his hand and wipe the fuzziness away, but she found she couldn't move. She felt a tug aright above her bellybutton, pulling her forward. Hermione was falling, closer towards the blackness. She tried to scream, for help, for anything, but nothing could stop the leeching darkness from advancing.
Hermione tried to twist and wrench herself from whatever hold tied her. She only succeeded in speeding up her decent. Black covered her vision as she passed through what felt like thick pudding. In a moment she was through and landed against a stone floor harshly. She groaned, pushing herself of the ground. Hermione staggered to her feet, leaning against the wall to regain her balance. She looked around, wondering how she fell here. She blinked, trying to get the fuzzy surroundings to pop into focus.
It was like everything was out of focus, and downright fuzzy in most spots. Hermione could guess she was in some sort of corridor. Did she sleepwalk through Hogwarts? Her face squinched in concentration, trying to remember where she was. Nothing looked familiar though. Did Madame Pomfrey put something in their popcorn? Some new medication with bizarre side effects? She decided then and now she would take greater interest researching what Madame Pomfrey gave them.
What part of the castle was this, she asked herself, looking around the smudgy stone. She and Harry had only explored a small bit of the castle, and they hadn't touched the staircases that Madame Pomfrey told them could move any time they wanted. That's why they choose McGonagall's classroom to camp out in, if only for the thrill of being away from the infirmary but staying on the first floor. She remembered falling asleep, crashing there with Harry after watching his present swirl across the classroom.
Hermione looked down both directions, trying to decide which way to go. She felt, pulled, towards the right, where she faced from falling. She walked down the stone corridor slowly, straining her ears for any hint to help her.
She didn't have to walk far before she saw the faint glow of light in the distance. She stepped past dark openings in the walls around her, ignoring the shiver that slid down her spine. As Hermione grew closer, she began to make out the insides of the room containing the light. Everything was so fuzzy though! Was the light coming from... the floor?
Before she could make anything out, the light flashed, and once again Hermione was left in darkness. She huffed in irritation, already turning to leave. Maybe the doorways she passed would lead her back to the Infirmary.
She froze however, when something to her left moved. She turned slowly, facing the shadow. It rose from the ground, slowly easing itself up to a terrifying height. It towered above her, a hissing spitting noise emerging from it. Terror seized her heart as a wave of frost entered her limbs. It rose higher above her, a part of the thing rising above her head, preparing for a downward strike. A scream fled her lips, startling her.
Hermione jerked, her eyes snapping open. She wrenched her blankets off her form, sitting up quickly. Her heart was still racing, and her head snapped left and right, checking around the room. The hologram/video was still going, green and blue players on broomsticks zooming around the room, leaving light and color in the space they just occupied. McGonagall's classroom. Her body relaxed, a splitting headache budding.
"Just a dream, just a dream," she muttered. "What? Ow, ow!" Hermione pulled her shirt up, looking at her stomach. A trembling hand brushed the mark above her bellybutton, she hissed at the pain. It burned! A Quidditch player zoomed past her head, giving light to the inflamed mark against her skin.
Was this the mark the wand maker was talking about? He didn't say anything about it burning! There was no letters in her mark like Olivander. She couldn't quite explain to herself what it looked like since she was looking at it upside down. She doubled over as the tattoo flared with fire. It seemed to throb anew.
A scream sounded to her right, Hermione jerked in surprise. She looked over at Harry, who seemed to be having some sort of fit. His backed arched as his arms and legs jerked this way and that. Pain forgotten, Hermione launched herself over to her friend.
"Harry wake up, it's just a dream!" She could not explain how she knew, but the moment her hands touched his face, Harry's eyes snapped open.
"Her-Hermione? He killed it, right in front of me. It-it-it, had blood and bones everywhere. It rose." Harry babbled, visibly shaking.
"Harry, nothing has happened. Look, see? We are in McGonagall's classroom." Hermione motioned around her.
Harry sat up, fumbling for his glasses. Hermione sat back on her heels as he shoved them on his face, looking around wildly. He collapsed back onto his pillow. "I suppose you're right. It seemed so real though. The corridor and the-the light from the floor." He swallowed. "The bones everywhere. And the knife."
Hermione's breath stilled at Harry's words. It wasn't possible, they couldn't share the same dream! "That sounds like really scary nightmare."
Harry rubbed his collarbone through his shirt, wincing as his hand reached up to trace his scar. "My scar hurts," he frowned
Hermione rubbed her own forehead, agreeing with him. Her headache had returned with a vengeance.
OoOoOoOo
Luna woke, her eyes snapping open. She slowly sat up, looking around her room. Her purple curtains fluttered in the breeze, she remembered keeping the window open to allow in the hot July winds. A chirp drew her attentions, and she turned to look at her pillow. A small robin nested at the top, sending out a whistling tune.
Heat is strong, the bird seemed to say. But Cold meets the challenge. The Singing, The Singing, The Singing.
"Don't be frightened," Luna whispered, cupping the bird in her hand. She slipped from her bed, walking over to the window. A slow wind brushed her hair away from her face. She set the bird on the window sill, delicately petting its red crest.
The bird flew off, leaving unspoken words in its place. The Singing, The Singing, The Singing.
oOoOoOoOo
Harry dealt with pressure well. He knew this. He could go days on just a sip of water, while dodging Dudley's attempts of catching him. He could work in the sun with his Aunt Petunia hanging over him with a soapy frying pan without breaking a sweat.
But this, here and now, stressed Harry. Sitting on the padded chairs of the waiting room, just waiting for his name to be called, made him break out into a cold sweat. The doctor- no, Healer, was nice enough, but Harry didn't like him. Not after he was in his head.
Harry didn't know how to act around the Healer. If he knew everything Harry had ever done, how was he supposed to feel? Would the Healer know whenever he was lying? How deep did the Healer go in his head?
Harry was forever grateful to Hagrid and Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Madam Promfrey. The whole situation was like a dream come true, and it was only his gratitude to the people who took him into this magical dream that he stayed in the waiting room without running to the exit.
A world where he had a real bed, and he wasn't watched all the time. A place where he didn't have to clean for most of the day, a world they gave food out regularly.
Each session was just another battle to dodge and reflect. This man asked a lot of questions, questions Harry didn't really want the answer to. Hermione was already gone, following the nurse to her own, private torture session of questions with the Healer. At least, that is what Harry assumed; he had no idea if there sessions were alike. Hermione never talked to him about what went on in her sessions. He decided he would ask, it couldn't hurt after all.
Harry knew Hermione hated the questions more than anything. Harry found when Hermione completely disagreed with whatever was being said, she clammed up and put her head down. And if he, Harry, noticed it, he was sure the Healer had to.
They were in the hospital ward so often that Harry had gotten over his fear of the toy bins just to have something to do as he waited. The receptionist had beamed at him once he had done so, it made Harry feel like a toddler being praised for doing something right.
But Harry was also good at ignoring things, so that is what he did, rummaging through the bins for something that wouldn't take his head off. Odd contraptions and surprisingly normal toys were scattered throughout, making Harry wonder if anything was truly normal.
He was elbow deep in toys when his name was called, giving him no chance to test anything really. He detached himself from the toys, hoping this would be brief, so he was the one waiting for Hermione this time.
He followed the nurse, figuring he would be taken to the same hospital bed as before. To his surprise, he was led past the door that usually occupied him. Instead, he was ushered into another colorful room. Harry wrinkled his nose, yellow? Dudley always wore yellow, Harry hated that color. But since he only got Dudley's castoffs, he always had to wear, moldy looking, faded yellow.
"Take a seat Harry, then we can get started."
Harry jumped, startled at the unexpected noise. Does he do that on purpose, Harry wondered. The Healer was already sitting in a large armchair in the corner, leaving the only seat available to Harry by the wall. Harry pushed his glasses firmly onto his nose and eased into armchair, sinking several inches down into the cloth cushion.
The Healer smiled, taking a pen from coat pocket. "Okay Harry, just a bunch of questions today. I know the time we spent together before seemed very pushy. So, no more medical questions, I promise. Today we can take it a bit slower. Is that alright with you?"
Harry rubbed his scar, already feeling a headache coming on. He shrugged. "Sure," he mumbled.
"Great. So I heard it was your birthday a couple days ago. What did you do to celebrate?" The Healer leaned back in his chair, seemingly getting settled.
Harry felt his shoulders relax, relieved the questions didn't dive right into anything hard.
"Errm," Harry chewed on his bottom lip. "Madame Pomfrey gave me and Hermione some cake. And Hermione gave me a gift. It was a film of a Quidditch match. Hagrid gave me an owl."
"An owl, that is an interesting gift. Why don't you tell me what she is like? Have you spent a lot of time with your owl?"
"She is… a Snowy Owl. Hermione and I were looking in our History of Magic Textbook, well Hermione really. She was reading aloud. She was reading about Magical Saints. And I liked the name, because Hedwig is really sweet. I spend a lot of time with her, she likes to land on my arm. Right here." Harry patted his forearm.
The Healer smiled at him. "That's great Harry. How does this birthday compare to your past ones? Do you have a favorite birthday?"
Harry frowned. "The Dursley's were really too busy those days. I never wanted anything anyway." An outright lie, but Harry didn't feel like discussing the years he spent in his cupboard, hoping that they wouldn't forget again that year.
"This was my favorite birthday." He conceded, shrugging. Even after the nightmare, it was still his favorite birthday. The Dursley's usually stomped on the stairs to wake him up, it was nice to be shaken awake, or whatever Hermione did to wake him.
"They were always busy on your birthday? What did they do every year?" The Healer asked his. Harry knew the Healer didn't believe what he was saying.
"My Aunt and Uncle usually take my cousin Dudley shopping." Harry shrugged, his eyes sliding over the rest of the room, trying to find something to look at that wasn't yellow.
"Did they leave you home?"
"No, our neighbor, Mrs. Figg, she has a lot of cats. I would stay at her house sometimes. I got to watch the Telly."
"Did you watch Television often, Harry?" The Healer shifted in his seat, scribbling on a clipboard.
"Sometimes when I was left at home, I would sneak into the living room and watch some. I wasn't supposed to." Harry glared at his hands, hoping he wouldn't get in trouble for admitting he broke his Uncle and Aunt's rules.
"That's quite alright Harry. What chores did your Aunt and Uncle give you and Dudley?"
Harry looked at the Healer strangely. "Whatever my Aunt told me to do. Dudley just played his computer or watched the Telly."
"Can you list some of the things your Aunt asked you to do every day?" The Healer smiled at his reassuringly.
"Erm, I cooked breakfast when Aunt Petunia woke me up. Then I would clean up breakfast or weed the garden. Then I'd vacuum and sweep, and make the beds. I ironed the clothes and folded them. I'd mop after my Aunt had eaten lunch. Sir, if you were in my head, shouldn't you know all this?"
The Healer looked surprised at his question. He leaned forward, setting the clipboard on his lap. "Harry, have you only been telling me the truth because you think I've known everything in your head?"
Harry muttered something unintelligible under his breath. "Mostly."
"What did you lie about?" The Healer asked him, in his darned kind voice, like he didn't care either way.
"Um." Harry's eyes darted about, anything not to look at the Healer.
"The part about… never wanting, err. Never wanting them to notice. My birthday." Harry blushed, looking sheepishly at the Healer.
"Harry, the potion I gave you the first time you came into my office was only for one use. I can't see inside your head or read your thoughts. The things you saw are the only things I saw. You choose what to tell me. I only hope you will be honest and tell me what is really on your mind when we talk. I know all this," He motioned to the space around them, "happened really fast, magic, and hospitals and Hogwarts."
Dilys Derwent's eyes shone with sincerity at the small boy in the armchair. "I'm here to help you Harry, not terrify you. We can talk about your memories are what you ate for breakfast this morning," he told Harry, chuckling.
"But I don't want you to feel nervous coming in here and talking to me. If I ask you something and you don't want to tell me, that's fine too. I'm not going to squeeze it out of you. You choose to tell me everything, or nothing at all. It's up to you." Dilys leaned back into his chair, closely observing Harry's reactions.
He fought a smile as he watched Harry absorb his words. It wasn't hard to spot Harry's positive trigger words. If the Healer could establish trust, and keep it, the process would be much smoother for Harry. Having a willing patient always trumped a guarded one in Dilys's experience. Harry responded better to raw emotion than fleshless demands. Dilys was almost certain he had Harry's profile pegged.
"I decide what to tell you?" Harry reaffirmed, his eyes hooded.
Dilys smiled, "Exactly. So why don't we start this off again. Is there anything in particular you want to talk about?"
Dilys held his breath, waiting to see if Harry would take the rope and lead.
Harry eyed the Healer, trying to think about what he wanted to talk about. Something had been bothering him, but Harry didn't know if he wanted to talk about it now. Maybe it would feel good getting it off his chest, Harry felt heavy carrying this feeling around, it felt like he was drowning.
Harry gathered his courage, stilling his twitching hands.
The Healer didn't say a word, even as the silence grew longer. I'll give him one more minute, the Healer decided. Just as Healer began to open his mouth, the dark haired boy began to talk. Dilys strained his ears to pick up all of what the soft spoken boy was saying.
"I- thought my parents died in a car crash. My Uncle Vernon told me my dad was a drunk, and he caused the accident." Guilt shredded through Harry, the knowledge of his parents torn from him. "I never had a picture of them, my Aunt and Uncle told me I didn't need one, because… they were terrible people. And I believed them."
"You don't know what your parents look like?" Dilys asked softly.
Harry shook his head, pulling from his pocket the worn and creased photo. "I was cleaning and I found this." Harry hesitantly handed over the photo to the Healer's outstretched hand.
"I knew it was them, because of my mother's handwriting on the back."
Dilys flipped the photo, reading the words written on the back. "I see," handing the photo back to Harry.
Harry wordlessly slipped the photo back into his pocket. "Hagrid told me about my parents, and I didn't believe him at first. Voldemort murdering my parents. But everyone who meets me tells me the same thing, and Hermione showed me entire chapters about it in History books."
Harry clenched his fists, anger raising his voice. "And all these people knew them, or knew about them. And I didn't. I didn't even know what they looked like until I found that photo. I thought my dad was a drunk! That he killed himself and my mum! I thought the only thing I had from them is this scar!" Harry rubbed his forehead angrily.
"They left me all that money and I hated him! I hated that they left me! I didn't even know their names." Harry carried on, unaware of the wind that surged through the room.
Dilys watched as the floor started to rattle.
"And this entire time people knew about me and about my parents and they did nothing! They just let me believe they were terrible people!" Harry ranted, jumping up out of his seat. Harry's power seemed to crackle and pop.
"Why is everyone allowed to know things about my parents when I couldn't?!" Harry yelled. Magic pulsed out from him, hitting the walls and rebounding. Dilys whipped out his wand and muttered a spell, siphoning up the excess magic.
"And I wonder if they really cared about me, why they would leave me with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon? Unless I did something terrible and they hated me?" Harry collapsed back into his seat, exhausted. He swiped away a lone tear with shirt, scowling at the floor.
Harry looked miserable.
Dilys scribbled a note on his clipboard, before addressing Harry. They needed to end this on a good note, and Dilys had a lot of information to sift through from this first session.
"If your parents were still alive, what would you want to say to them?" Dilys tilted his head, already anticipating Harry's answer.
Harry shrugged, looking down at his hands. "That I was sorry, I guess."
OoOoOoOo
Hermione was on her bed in the Hospital wing, dutifully reading her schoolbooks. Harry was off again to the owlry to retrieve Hedwig. Harry spent almost as much time with Hedwig as with her, but Hermione didn't mind. The friend and his owl had a special connection. Besides, the same could be said about her with the schoolbooks. Hermione was just tired of feeling, she didn't want to think about the night on the bridge with McGonagall or the sessions with the Healer.
So she focused on something else, the world she had entered overnight. Hermione wanted to know everything about the world she and Harry had been initiated into. But it was like she was back at grade school, starting over from scratch. Everything that she had thought was concrete and true evidence was now crumbled to dust in the light of this new information. Even their beginning books didn't seem to explain accurately why everything was the way it is.
And the spell books were interesting, their theories and supportive arguments sent her head reeling, but were they really expected to cast spells? Hermione knew it was possible, she had seen McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey do magic. She could not deny the irrefutable truth. But that didn't mean she believed she, Hermione Granger, could do it as well. So she read the books that she was to attend school with a distant eye. A curious project, but not one to be taken seriously. She would never cast a spell, it was simply not right. Her wand was hidden away in her nightstand, she hadn't touched since she bought it at Ollivanders, fearing an explosion of wind of sparks would fly through its tip once again.
She knew Harry had taken to carrying his wand everywhere in his pocket. Harry was more adventurous than her; she considered that in her comparison of herself and Harry.
She was so engrossed with her inner turmoil, she didn't hear McGonagall approach. Admittedly, Hermione had been avoiding Professor McGonagall, after her embarrassing display on the bridge. She wasn't proud of herself in that moment, and hoped that if she didn't talk about it, it would go away. She had thought a lot about what McGonagall had told her that night.
Her parents being arrested was terrible news, and for a moment she thought all would be lost. Thinking she would never see her parents again made her nearly mad with grief. It was a while into the night, as she lay thinking in her bed, that she realized not all hope was lost.
If her parents were arrested and being charged, that meant a trial. Hermione wasn't stupid; she knew in order for them to be put in jail they needed proof. She couldn't do anything about the physical she had consented to or the potion she had taken. But she figured someone would come up to her and ask she give a confession or stand in the trial. And when they asked her questions about her parents she would tell them the truth. It wasn't their fault and they loved her.
"Hermione? How many times have you read that book?" McGonagall's voice interrupted her thoughts.
Hermione squeaked, clutching the book in her hands before it could fall off the bed. "Um, this is the third time, I think."
McGonagall smiled down at her, motioning for her to sit up. Hermione scrambled off the bed, closing the book shut.
"Come with me, I have someone I would like you to meet." McGonagall offered her hand and Hermione took it hesitantly.
McGonagall led them through the first floor, and with growing dread Hermione realized they were headed to the moving staircases.
"The secret to the staircases," McGonagall glanced down at her, "Is to clearly picture where you want to go in your mind. The stairs are usually in a good enough mood to listen."
Hermione didn't say a word, wanting to argue how stairs didn't have ears, or moods. Thankfully, the stairs didn't shift once as they climbed one, two stories. Hermione memorized the way they came, counting the turns and steps.
At last McGonagall's footsteps halted at two double doors. McGonagall raised her hand and knocked, Hermione anxious as to who was going to open the door.
All the doors and stone seemed ancient and antique, with dark hues or faded grays. It had a homey welcoming feel to it, making Hermione feel as if she was the newest thing that had walked the aged floor in centuries. The door opened with a groan.
The person before them was a thin, vulture looking woman with sunken cheeks and an unflattering hooked-nose. She looked down at Hermione sourly, before admitting them into the room behind her. Hermione gasped as the sight of books hit her eyes. Everywhere, to the floor unto the ceiling, books were stacked on shelves, on tables and the floor. Her head craned to find an end to the room, but she found none. Her heart raced in excitement at the thought of reading them all, wishing she hadn't waited so long to explore if this is what was hidden!
Hermione's attention as drawn back to the woman in black and green beaded dress.
"So this is the girl you wrote to me about. She seems rather thin, you really should feed her more. You may call me Madam Pince," The woman said, reaching her hand down to Hermione.
Hermione shook the woman's hand gently. Madame Pince's hand was cool and leathery, like the pages of a book. "It is nice to meet you Madame Pince," she replied politely, having enough experience greeting her parents business friends to be polite.
"Well, at least she is polite," Madame Pince observed dryly, turning to McGonagall.
"Madame Pince is the Librarian here at Hogwarts." McGonagall inclined her head towards the woman. "How was your vacation?"
Madame Pince smiled, ushering them through another door that led to an office. It wasn't much more organized, with books scattered throughout her desk and chairs.
"Oh you know me; I cannot stay away from my books for long. But I did enjoy the sun, the beach was positively beautiful."
Hermione searched the room for a chair without books cluttered on the surface. She saw McGonagall remove the book to the floor below, and Hermione followed suit.
"But I knew if I wanted to start the school year with the books in their proper places, I had to return sooner rather than later. Fifth years muddled everything up with their OWLS last year, defense books with the transfiguration books. I'm surprised any of them passed with OWLs the way they were flapping about." Madame Pince huffed, pouring herself and McGonagall a cup of tea.
"So you want access to my library early, before the school term? I don't know if I can do that Minerva, you saw the state of the library. I can't have a willful child running underfoot." Madame Pince offered McGonagall a biscuit, completely ignoring Hermione.
"Hermione is very responsible Irma, she is very careful when it comes to books. I would vouch for her." McGonagall argued, taking one.
"Oh very well, but if I find one book out of place." Madame Pince threatened, waving her hand dismissively.
McGonagall motioned for her to go, presumably to explore the library. Hermione rose to leave, just to be halted by the force of Madame Pince's glare.
"A warning, Hermione. If you rip, tear, shred, bend, fold, smudge, throw, drop, or in any other manner damage, mistreat, or show lack of respect towards any of the books in this library, the consequences will be as awful as it is within my power to make them. Do you understand?" Madame Pince asked her, a severe look upon her face.
Hermione gulped, her insides shaking like a leaf. She had never met a librarian so focused on book preservation, to say the least. "Of course Madame Pince. I-would never harm a book."
Madame Pince seemed appeased, and motioned her to go forward.
"If you cannot find your way out, I will come find you later." McGonagall called out as she walked out through the door.
Hermione sighed when she left the room, her heart already slowing down as she left the stressful scene. What an insufferable woman! Why would she want to harm any of these books anyway?
Hermione huffed, and then took in all the books around her. Such knowledge! There had to be tens of thousands of books in here! Where to even begin? The books seemed to hum with unknown knowledge, beckoning her to open and read them.
She took a deep breath, and plunged into the labyrinth of shelves, burying deeper until she could lose herself in the timeless pursuit of knowledge.
Author's notes:
Ok so in the last chapter I asked for your opinions for Hermione's parents. Such a slew of such wonderful suggestions popped up! Thank you all for taking the time and giving me your ideas. All of them finally made me decide what to do, and your ideas certainly helped me plan ahead! I won't say what I decided on, so most of you can be surprised and shocked at what finally comes out. Thank YOU for reviewing!
To Brian1972: Your story theories have me wondering if you're reading my mind! Thank you for the long review, though I think Hermione might surprise you in some aspects.
To NathanHale2: Dun Dun Dunnn! Psychopaths! Or Dementor like creatures? To soon to tell.
To Potter says: I will comply with your wishes of having a mean Snape, simply because Snape helped mold Harry with his utter meaness and unfairness (and you know how to flatter an author). And Snape is much easier to hate when he is mean. But I am sure everyone has a backstory. Just warning you. That line about my "writing prowess" made my day for weeks.
To Ravenclaw's Heir: I do it for you! Do you like reading about Luna? I hope you do.
To all the reviewers who didn't make it on here: You are the best! I love hearing all your comments.
The mystery of Thoth's scroll will be unfolded and its true potential shown later in the story. I haven't forgotten about it, or Hermione and Harry's old parents/guardians, or Hermione's suppressed memories. All in good time! Thank you for reading and leave a review with your praises or your grievances!
Until next chapter!
