A/N I apologize for not updating yesterday, I was out of town on a day trip. I made this one a little longer to make up for it.
Chapter 9
Harry sighed, trudging along behind Dudley. In truth, he could have outpaced the plump boy any day, but there was an unspoken rule that Harry should have to follow Dudley to school so as to not make the lumbering, straw-haired boy feel bad about his size. Harry doubted that Dudley felt bad at all about his weight – he was perfectly happy to pig out even when the school nurse warned him – but he knew that Dudley enjoyed the feeling of superiority. It made up somewhat, Harry knew, for the fact that Dudley had not been able to fill the niche of "chief bully" this year. It was a blow to Dudley's pride from which he would not recover easily – even if he had a whole summer to make up for it.
The fat boy pulled himself slowly up the steps, waddling towards the door. He did not open it, for Harry could see the beads of sweat that crossed his cousin's red brow. Harry moved up beside him and opened the door. Once, he would have been too frightened of the bigger boy's wrath to even think of it; now Harry was as tall as Dudley and much more fit. He didn't bother to keep the door open for Dudley but entered, letting it swing shut. Eventually, when Dudley had recovered from the exertion of the four stairs, he followed. By then, though, Harry was talking with Ron.
The initial meeting had been exceeding awkward. Harry had no ill feelings towards Ron, none that hadn't been eradicated after Ron had given Harry what he wanted to know, but Ron felt hurt that his best mate had stormed out of his house.
Even so, they were back to being friends within a quarter of an hour – long before Hermione showed up. Harry and Ron always were early – Harry because Dudley had to get up early to make sure he was in class on time and Ron because Ginny, who didn't seem to need to sleep, liked to get to school to talk to friends – but Hermione had to cross half the town. Harry had gotten Ron started in a hushed but excited conversation about the Chudley Cannons, who were doing slightly better, when Hermione showed up looking flustered.
Hermione cocked her head slightly as they hushed up, knowing she would nag them unendingly if she overheard anything odd. "Good to see you two have made up, then?" she asked, smiling.
"Oh, yeah…" Harry said distractedly. He realized that he hadn't even considered what he'd tell Hermione next summer, when he would be going to Hogwarts with Ron. He hadn't thought of it until he had seen her dressed in that overly prim and proper uniform she always had. At least she's got an idea of what her future will be like.
Hermione's lip stuck out slightly as she gave a frown. "Got something you want to share with me?" Ron looked guilty and Harry a little worried. "Maybe why you spent most of yesterday not talking to each other?"
Ron pulled off a surprisingly impression of Fred and George as he yawned, covering up his blush as he said, "Nah, we're good."
Hermione turned to him and Harry, feeling that Ron had left him out to dry, scrambled for a response. "Oh, really?" she asked in the voice she saved for her scepticism. Ron flinched. "Harry, care to share why you didn't eat with us?"
Harry mumbled, "Because I was a git," but so quietly that she evidently hadn't heard him. She cocked her head in a way that made Harry wonder if it might fall off if held that way too long. He wasn't sure he wanted to find out.
"What did you say?"
"It's none of your business." Harry muttered. He had just caught sight of his cousin lumbering through as if he owned the school.
Hermione looked cross and opened her mouth, only to be drowned out by the bell ringing. Ron sighed behind her and grabbed Harry's arm, dragging him away from her. He murmured, "She's mental sometimes, she is." Harry gave a small smile.
"You know she's going to wonder why we're both going to the same school on the same scholarship, right?"
Ron would have responded if a heavy dictionary hadn't suddenly fallen from the shelf to resound off his worn trainers. He cursed fluently under his breath and looked around. They took a seat, Ron still grumbling darkly.
Hermione took her seat next to him. She had a peculiar look. He hoped she hadn't overheard what Ron said – having his friends arguing only twenty minutes after he had reconciled with them wasn't exactly his idea of a good day – but was unable to query her because their teacher swept into the room.
Harry zoned out as Ms. Riley went through the morning's business before calling on Hermione to do attendance. Harry was so used to the air around him quavering with Hermione's excited shifting that he had trouble figuring out why everything felt so still. He realized that Hermione was staring off into space, apparently in a world of her own.
Ron bent over to prod Hermione in the shoulder. She jumped. Ron hissed in her ear. Ms. Riley asked her if she was all right and Hermione blushed the same colour as Ron's hair. She jumped up and hurried over, looking flustered. Harry followed her with his eyes. It was unlike Hermione to be unprepared for attendance.
He glanced away just as Ms. Riley continued her lessons. When Hermione returned, she was back to normal, hopping up and down. Like normal, Harry attempted to make himself as small as possible to ensure her flying hands didn't unseat him. He had a close call when Hermione had answered a question about fractions, but otherwise was able to relax a bit. Hermione seemed if anything more agitated than usual, though he thought that Ron's poorly calculated attempt to snatch her paper had contributed to that. He had nearly fallen from his chair.
Lunch came about after maths, but the atmosphere was stifled. Hermione was distant, and for the first time Harry could remember he and Ron couldn't talk about anything, at least nothing that Hermione could hear. Harry instead watched his cousin being brutish. The fat boy was frightened of the six years, but he was as good of a brownnoser as he was a bully, and had a propensity for enforcement that made him a natural.
Harry also looked at Ginny. He didn't know why he did this – she always seemed to be busy doing something – but he had a strange feeling she was watching him when wasn't. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a lunch tray sliding on the table. Ron and Hermione were both staring at the tray. Harry, having not seen the commotion, glanced at them without understanding.
Hermione jumped up and went to throw her milk carton away and Ron grabbed her saltine crackers. Ron leaned in. "I think Hermione's one of us."
Harry gaped. "What? Why do you say that?"
"Earlier, in maths, I snatched for her paper and it blew away."
"That's not unnatural."
"Ok, but just now, when I tried to nick her crackers the tray moved. I think sh-" he stopped abruptly. Hermione had returned. Harry thought that Ron was being overly hopeful. There were a million explanations for why both things happened.
Ron didn't want to give up his hope. He kept away from Hermione, dragging Harry away to point out how the book had mysteriously fallen or how Ms. Riley always looked at Hermione. It seemed all quite unfounded, but Ron was adamant. Harry wanted school to be over – not just because he was tired of what was feeling like an extraordinarily long school day but also because he knew that Ginny would call her brother a prat for him as they walked back.
When school finally got out, Harry and Ron met up with Ginny and the three walked to the Burrow. Ron began to tell Ginny about his theories. Ginny immediately teased him about Hermione being his girlfriend, and Ron blushed redder than Ginny's scarlet hair.
By the time they were halfway up the hill, Ron had run out of points to make and now was talking Quidditch. The World Cup was the next year, and already teams were scrambling to qualify. Ron was telling Harry about the first cup, with its 700+ fouls. They all laughed when Ron mentioned the near-decapitation. Ginny said that it would be interesting to see what four years of examination of the latest rules (with constant inventions of new magic, the rules were becoming so large that there was an entire profession dedicated to figuring out how to circumvent them) would produce when it came time for the final match. Harry nodded, wondering exactly how a game in which people were attacked by flying cannonballs could be made any more interesting.
The three walked up the steps of the Burrow. Ron opened the door and rushed in. Harry was next, but he held the door open. Ginny, who seemed happier than he remembered ever seeing her, flushed as she walked in. He felt very hot all of a sudden, and walked in after her.
Ron's mother immediately embraced him, sobbing. He apologized profusely and was immediately handed several servings worth of food. The Burrow was noticeably different. There was a clock on the wall which Harry remembered having never worked. He saw that it now had little hands with the names of the Weasley family members on them. Ron and Ginny were at "Home", as was their mother. Bill and Mr. Weasley were at "Work", and the twins, Percy, and Charlie were all at "School". The kitchen also seemed markedly different – Ms. Weasley had a small stick of wood in her hand and was humming as she stirred something on the stove.
The entrance had also been different: a number of portraits, all moving and bustling around in a way that made him a little dizzy, were on the wall, and they occasionally greeted him or the others as they passed.
Harry talked to Ginny for a bit as he ate, not wanting to hear another long-winded explanation from Ron. His friend had gone upstairs, leaving Ginny to explain to Harry excitedly about himself. He was not entirely comfortable with how much Ginny seemed to know about him; he supposed he couldn't be surprised, though. She certainly was proving a much better teacher than Ron. The Daily Prophet – the newspaper with moving pictures that he had seen – was the standard source of news for the wizarding community. The little stick of wood was a wand: the instrument wizards used to do magic. She also explained that the reason he hadn't been allowed in the garden or in the attic or in some of the other rooms was that they would have been very difficult to cover up, especially the garden, which was infested with "gnomes". She was just telling him about how Fred, George, and Charlie regularly flung the little humanoids out of the garden when Ron came running downstairs.
"It's Hermione! She's coming to the house!" he panted.
"How does she know where we live?" asked Ginny, bolting upright to help him take the clock off the wall. Ms. Weasley bustled into the other room, where he could hear her pulling pictures off the wall – the pictures grumbled about being moved. Harry was up as well, grabbing the Daily Prophet and stuffing it where it wouldn't be seen. He didn't know quite what to do, but moved into the entrance and picked up a large number of pictures.
There was a knock on the door. Mrs. Weasley yelled to him "Make sure she doesn't come in!" It would only take about thirty seconds more for them to get all the pictures down and then he could open the door. He stuffed the pictures under the stairs. He had just run out to get more when the door was blasted open. Harry nearly dropped the frames he was holding as he saw Hermione, hair wild and face blotchy, staring at Mrs. Weasley.
The pictures that Mrs. Weasley had been levitating into a pile dropped, inhabitants screeching. Hermione stood in the doorframe as Ron ran in, followed closely by Ginny. Ron moved forward, followed by Harry. Ginny seemed less sure and stayed close behind Harry, watching as Ms. Weasley moved forward with her son.
"I know this looks odd, dear, but please come inside…" Mrs. Weasley said sweetly. Ron moved ahead of her, looking as if he was going to help Hermione stay standing. " 'mione, come on…" he said quietly.
The bushy brown hair, frizzled, framed a face stark white and a little blotchy. Hermione shook slightly in shock before taking a step back. Ron made for her as she looked like she might fall down, but she turned and ran, crying, as his hands grasped thin air.
Harry came up behind Ron, Ginny looking over his shoulder. Ron's mother watched sadly as Hermione went down the lane.
"I told you she was a witch, Harry." Ron muttered, so softly that Harry could barely hear.
"I know, Ron." Harry responded in the silence. "You were right."
Mrs. Weasley pulled the door closed and they all moved to help her put the house back together. Ron seemed pale and shaky.
"What if she doesn't believe us?" he asked Harry.
He tried to be positive, but it was hard. "It's Hermione, Ron. You know how she is. Just give her some time."
End of Chapter 9
I admit that this chapter really doesn't have much new in it, but I felt like I needed to split it up. It's not enough to just have Hermione's perspective, since this is really Harry's story. Plus, most of Chapter 8 is her wondering what they're talking about, so I figured you guys would like to know.
I'll tell you that the next few chapters are going to be a little short. The next will be Hermione's, and the following will be Dudley's. I contemplated making the second one Ginny's, but I feel like Dudley is underserved in both the books and in fanfiction.
As always, if something seems off (school-related terminology in particular), don't be afraid to tell me. I'm running off Wikipedia for information. Besides pointing out incorrect details, I love any sort of reviews, and CC is definitely invited. ~ Efendi
Up Next: Hermione's plans have fallen apart around her, and she cannot accept the truth. Ron and Harry watch their friend suffer without being able to help, and suddenly summer doesn't seem so inviting.
