Chapter X
Authors' Note and PSA: Don't eat strange baked goods that appear in unlikely locations! The more you know!
Hermione sensed that more death and destruction was coming—and she liked it.
Siege tank engines everywhere burped and roared to life. The battleax-shaped mammoth battlecruiser loomed overhead like a giant levitating skyscraper. Its laser batteries promised death to any who would oppose it. Squadrons of Wraiths, peculiar three-winged, t-shaped starfighters, howled as they flew formations and circled in the late afternoon sky, awaiting the final order to move out. Goliaths, the walkers armed with autocannons and missiles, whirred and clicked as they moved into positions of readiness. The marines threw down their cigarettes and stomped them out. Some prayed. Others double-checked their gauss rifles. Some had blank expressions, as if still processing the horror of the wizarding world.
Meanwhile, the wizards looked decidedly unprofessional. In their scorched, frayed robes and hats, they resembled a rabble of confused homeless magicians congregating before a poorly organized concert that promised to deliver substances of questionable legality. Many of the students scratched their heads and shrugged at the display of hyper-advanced muggle technology, clearly feeling out of place even in their own world.
One student gawked at the Wraiths flying overhead. "That's an F-16, I think! Muggles fly those planes all the time to get to work!"
"No, you idiot!" a third-year student countered. "They're Spitfires! F-16s have propellers! Those are the spinny metal things!"
"What? That's bollocks! I know for a fact—"
"Baker, come here!" Professor McGonagall rounded on the younger, second-year student. He cringed upon seeing her but stood his ground. The elderly professor pursed her lips.
"Why aren't you on the front lines?"
"I'm . . . scared." Baker crossed his arms. "I don't want to go. I saw what happened to the first-years. And—I think we ran out! That means second-years are next!" He hung his head. "I'm only twelve years old!"
Professor McGonagall presented the second-year a frosty scowl. "This is how we do things at Hogwarts! Younger students go first in battle! And, like you pointed out, Baker, there aren't any first-years left. Now, Baker, I don't want to hear another word out of your mouth about how you're only twelve years old." She jabbed a finger in Harry and Hermione's direction. "Those two were fighting the Dark Lord when they were only in their first year at Hogwarts! You're practically a grizzled veteran compared to them! So, do your duty and join your classmates over there! When you're older, you'll be able to stay in the back."
"Yes, ma'am." Baker shuffled away to join the clump of second-years gathered up in the front of the wizarding formation. He then paused and shouted back. "I don't think I know any good spells! What should I do?"
Professor McGonagall rolled her eyes. "Shout stupefy and point your wand at the enemy! That should suffice, I think."
When Professor McGonagall neared Hermione, Harry, Ginny, and Hagrid, she leaned in, speaking with a lower voice. "Try to finish them off quickly out there. We're starting to run low on second-years, and I actually like the third-years. I'd rather keep our supply from dwindling."
Harry presented a surprisingly crisp salute. "Can do, professor. Don't worry. We might even finish the enemy off with some second-years left over. I've got a good feeling about this."
"Very well, Potter. I would have doubted you earlier, but you've proved to be a more formidable wizard than I would have guessed."
"Well, I was in Nam, professor. It changes a man."
"How dreadful!"
"I know. So many types of raccoons. And they all wanted me dead."
"Worst pocket dimension I've ever heard of!" McGonagall sniffed.
"Well, what do you expect when its creator was just a damn bad cook?"
"True. True." This time, McGonagall saluted Harry. It, too, was oddly crisp. Hermione couldn't believe McGonagall had also heard of Nam. Had she really missed such a strange place, even with all the books she had read?
Raynor showed up and beckoned Hermione, Harry, and Ginny over to a cluster of odd hovering motorcycle-like vehicles.
"These are called Vultures. They're fast and a hoot to drive. They'll help you guys get to the next site in a hurry. They're easy enough to ride."
Raynor showed them the basics of steering these Vultures. They learned quickly enough. All they needed to do was ride the things to the place where Diablo was said to lurk.
"What does this button do?" Harry asked. It had a clear plastic cover over it, and it was colored a bright red with a white symbol unfamiliar to Hermione.
"Don't touch that button." Raynor directed Harry's finger away from it. "It's a little too much to train you on that."
"All right. I won't touch the button."
Hermione immediately knew Harry was going to touch the button at the first opportunity he got. She should have warned Raynor, but curiosity burned in her as well.
Hermione tapped on Raynor's powered armor suit, indicating he should lean over. She kissed him on the lips, slowly and sensuously. When they withdrew, she asked, "Should I be riding on your bike?"
"That'd be mighty fine if I weren't wearing this," he gestured at his own armor. "But with it on, I don't think it'd work. So, have some fun on your own Vulture. I always admired a girl who could ride by herself."
"I'll do that, then." Hermione outstretched a hand and clasped his armored hand. He tightened it very carefully. She knew he could easily crush her own hand with the suit on, and yet he used such precision with her. That mixture of power and control sent an electric wave of lust and passion through her. But she would have to contain herself for now.
"Be careful, darlin'. And take this." Raynor handed Hermione a massive revolver in a shoulder holster. "Consider it a gift."
"Oh, my." Hermione beamed. It was such a beautiful weapon—and heavy and powerful. "Thank you," Hermione said, removing the gun, looking down the sights, and then adjusting the shoulder harness to fit.
"You look like you know what you're doin'," he remarked. "I'm impressed. I didn't think a wizard would know any of that."
Hermione tilted her head to the side, a sly grin stretching across her lips. "Well, I have read loads of books."
True enough. In reality, during her time at Hogwarts, she had been smuggling muggle weapons from Bulgaria to the wizarding world with the help of house elves; after arrival, the arms would be enchanted to be of greater use and value. Of course, the efficacy of her charms on the weapons had to first be proven on hapless Hogwarts students (or treacherous, greedy house elves) who had been ensnared by her stratagems. Their lives had served to support a burgeoning wizarding black market weapons industry and pushed the frontiers of magical research. Good times. Good times.
Is there something wrong with me? Hermione wondered abruptly. Am I a bad person?
She then shrugged. If she was a bad person, the others had yet to take notice. She often heard that people with depression fretted all day about how terrible, incompetent, and bad they seemed to others—when, in all actuality, they were quite normal and not at all as bad as they imagined themselves to be. The same applied to Hermione, didn't it?
Nothing to worry about. Most people had their little "dark secrets," such as dabbling in running international black markets, conducting horrific experiments on fellow students, and assassinating disobedient house elves. There was no sense in beating herself up over it.
"Are you all right, darlin'?" Raynor studied her. "You look like you got your head in the clouds."
"Just such a beautiful gift. It's really touching. I don't think I've ever had anything quite like it."
Hermione could have sworn Raynor blushed. "It's always a good idea to have a sidearm. Even for a wizard like yourself. And what with all these zerg and demons being resistant to magic, it won't hurt"
"Thank you so much!"
"Anything for you, darlin'."
Raynor turned and headed for his Vulture. Hermione mounted hers and started it up. When she glided along in the vehicle, a smile crossed her face. These Terran vehicles had a fun-factor to them that could not be matched by broomsticks alone.
"Is he gone?" Harry asked Ginny in a stage whisper. "You know what I have to do."
"Be careful," Ginny warned Harry.
"Pffft." Harry snorted. "It's not magic. What's the worst that could happen?"
"Do it from a safe distance, at least."
"All right." Harry pulled out a safe distance on his Vulture ahead of the formation of wizarding students and professors. He then hovered his finger over the button he was not supposed to press. Hermione held her breath, wondering if his Vulture would explode. Then his finger went down. The hovering bike deposited a single white, spider-like mine that burrowed itself into the ground. Hermione sighed. That was it? Really?
Hermione magnified her voice with the wand. "Watch out for the spot where Harry left that mine! Walk around it or it will explode."
Harry zoomed away from the mine and back next to Ginny's Vulture. "Hmm. The wizarding world certainly has more excitement than these space muggles."
Just then, a crunching noise and a hellish mechanical chirping sound filled the air as the white, spider-like mine unearthed itself and rushed towards the students who had tried walking around the site where the mine had originally been.
A massive explosion of shocking intensity—larger in scope than a siege tank blast—sent a shockwave out that nearly knocked Hermione from her Vulture even from her distance. Bits of students rocketed through the air, and blood rained from the heavens.
A severed head splatted onto the ground near Hermione, which, upon inspection, proved to be the head of the student McGonagall had called "Baker." Well, that was one less second-year to hear wailing about his unwillingness to march in the front lines. He had been such a wimp, he never would have amounted more to cannon fodder anyway. Still, that particular bit of cannon fodder had been used up a little too early.
"Preposterous!" Harry exclaimed. "That damn mine got up on its own! I did not mean for that to happen!"
Hermione wanted to shout at Harry, but she had really wanted to see someone press that button.
"Potter!" McGonagall yelled through the chaos of screams and sobbing, her voice magically enhanced. "We lost some third-years in that! Watch yourself!"
Harry cleared his throat, mimicked checking his watch, and then shot ahead on his Vulture. Ginny went after him.
"Hermione, what the hell happened back there?" came Raynor's concerned voice over the radio.
"Oh, nothing, Jim. Just another magical mishap." Well, it wasn't really magic. But Harry wouldn't have had the opportunity to kill a bunch of students with an intelligent, autonomous mine if it had not been for magical dimension-mingling.
"Shit! Again?"
Hermione watched the scene of carnage playing out before her eyes. She shook her head in sadness. All those dead students, and none of them had died to further the cause of magical research. Such a waste! "We can't stop every time a student dies, or we'll never defeat this Lord of Terror."
Raynor sighed over the radio. "You're right. Okay, boys and girls, roll out. We're meeting at the rendezvous point."
With the Vultures, Hermione, Ginny, and Harry were able to move far ahead of the wizards and merge with Raynor, who was leading the charge up front on his own hovering bike. The wind whipping in Hermione's hair felt wonderful, and beholding James Raynor in all his glory riding upon his mechanical steed made for quite the sight. If only she could make a painting of it and stick it in a museum!
Hagrid joined them, riding his own Vulture. He had given up on clothing himself with flimsy fabric that could rip every time his impressive muscles bulged. Instead, he wore a leather jacket over his bare chest and somehow found aviator sunglasses to wear. His automatic crossbow's bolts had been augmented by something, and Hermione could not identify exactly what.
Within half an hour, they came upon their destination, Hermione gasped upon sighting where their rendezvous point was. When studying the maps and diagrams, it hadn't been clear exactly what the building was, and she had never figured out where this building existed geographically in relation to Hogwarts.
It was the Burrow. The crooked, sad looking dwelling place of the Weasley clan. Yet, something felt off about the whole area. It might have had to do with the swirling storm centered on it, the constant flashes of lightning, and the clouds so dark barely any light could penetrate it.
When the formations stopped a distance from the Burrow, Raynor took out his binoculars and then studied the structure. "Hmm," he was saying as Hermione pulled up alongside him. "Cain told me that the gateway to Hell existed close to this area. But I don't see anything. Well, except all those black clouds overhead."
"Jim, I know this area." Hermione replied. "That is . . . Ginny's parents' home. Might I go ahead with her and Harry and take a look around first? See if we can find them and get them out safely?"
Raynor nodded. "Be careful, darlin'. Want me to come with?"
Hermione eyed his armor and massive rifle. "No. I think your presence would surprise them a little too much. They might do something stupid."
"That's entirely possible," he admitted. "How about some of your other wizard buddies?"
Hermione shot a glance at the gaggle of wizarding students and the professors herding them towards battle. McGonagall had produced a fiery red whip from her wand, snapping it at students who tried to break formation. Hermione shook her head, frowning. "No. They're a bunch of fucking idiots. At least Harry has a monocle nowadays."
"He used to not wear that thing?" A look of bewildered amusement crossed Raynor's face. "Can't imagine the fella without it."
"Neither can I," Hermione admitted. "It suits him." With those words, Hermione, Ginny, and Harry shot out to the Burrow. It would not be a pleasant visit this time. It hadn't been for a while, ever since Ron lost his mind and started living in his mother's closet, muttering strange incantations to himself.
Hermione abruptly braked her Vulture and slapped herself in the forehead. The gateway to Hell was near the Burrow. And her ex-boyfriend had gone mad there. Well, that probably wasn't a coincidence. Hermione really needed to read some more books so she wouldn't be surprised like this again.
She resumed course and parked her Vulture outside the front door of Ron's parents' house.
"Ginny, would you like to go first?" Hermione stopped her motion of knocking, glancing at the redheaded sex muffin. "This is your parents' home, after all."
She nodded. Her tits jiggled like somber mountains of gelatin, reflecting the foreboding they all felt and their growing fear of the dark things that had taken hold of a place once so familiar and comforting.
Ginny knocked on the door. Footsteps soon followed, and it creaked open, revealing Mrs. Weasley's face. For a fleeting moment, Hermione felt a sense of relief that everything would, in fact, be all right.
"Moo?"
Hermione's jaw dropped. She had seen quite a few horrors in her time. Some of them inflicted willingly by her own hands. But this was more than a little unexpected.
"Mum!" shrieked Ginny.
"Moo?" inquired the being again. It wore Mrs. Weasley's face. But, if one possessed a discerning eagle eye, one could make out certain details that were decidedly unlike Mrs. Weasley. For starters, one might notice the lack of clothes. Or the hooves. Or the udders. Or the white fur spotted with black. Or the horns protruding from the head. Or the hulking size of the being. Yes. With just the right amount of observation, one just might possibly declare that a cow-like being standing on two hooves had cut off Mrs. Weasley's face and now was wearing it like a Halloween mask.
"Preposterous," Hermione's lips moved slowly, numb with shock. Somehow, that word fit like a glove today.
"Moo!" declared the cow demon. Its voice did not sound like a regular cow—more like a human's poor impression of one. In a way, that just made the whole situation even worse.
A burst of scarlet energy impacted the cow demon. Ginny, tears welling up in her eyes, had pointed her wand at the beast. The magic had no apparent effect on the demented barnyard creature.
"Moo!" It declared, this time anger evident in its bovine voice.
It appeared that magic did not affect the creatures much at all, except to make them angrier.
No matter.
Hermione pointed her wand at the ground beneath the cow demon, which gained the consistency of sinking sand, swallowing it up to its head.
"Moo! Moo! Moo, moo, moo!" It protested its earthy confinement.
Hermione pulled out the massive revolver gifted to her by Raynor. She pointed it at the cow's head and let her finger hover over the trigger just long enough to see the terror reflected in the cow demon's eyes before its imminent demise.
"Moo." she whispered and unloaded all six massive rounds into the cow demon's skull, turning it into nothing more than a bloody pulp.
Hermione sighed, blood and cow demon brains now covering her face, the walls, Ginny, and Harry.
Harry seemed so startled he had yet to catch up to the situation and process it fully. Finally, he just scowled, muttered, and shook his head. "What in the preposterous fuck just happened?"
"Sorry for the mess." Hermione replied, pointing her wand at herself, casting a cleaning charm that removed the cow demon gore from herself. "I got emotional."
"Dad! Where's Dad?" Ginny asked, tugging at Hermione's sleeves in a panic.
Hermione grimaced, hoping the eccentric, muggle-loving man hadn't also been turned into a cow demon Halloween mask.
"We should search the house!" Harry declared. "I'm sure that Mr. Weasley has devised a way to escape!"
"Or you could just cast a locating charm through the blood of a relative," Hermione stated flatly. She swore, Harry sometimes forgot he could do magic. Hermione then pricked Ginny with a small needle cast from the tip of her wand and cast a locating spell that created a massive green arrow of brilliant energy. It pointed to the shack outside the house where Mr. Weasley kept his hoard of muggle junk.
"He's still alive." Hermione stated, her hopes rising.
They followed the arrow to the shack and pulled open the creaky door. There, they found Mr. Weasley almost completely buried by piles of various muggle trinkets he had collected through the years. He was hunched over a game of whack-a-mole, studying it with cautious curiosity. He had headphones over his ears, and the heavy metal music playing on them could be heard through them. Ginny walked up to him, and removed the headphones, giving him a big hug. Mr. Weasley's eyes widened in shock.
"Ginny! Harry! Why in the world are you covered in blood?"
"Dad," Ginny choked through tears, "I don't know what to say. There are these horrible demons coming here, and they're not from our universe. And . . . well . . . one of them . . . Mum ran into some trouble with one."
"That can't be right. I just spoke to her not too long ago!" He glanced at his watch. "Oh. Four hours ago."
"Come on, Dad. We need to get you out of here. We've brought an army. They can fight for us. I just want you to stay safe."
"Wait a moment. I think I have just the right muggle artifacts for this very situation. A box of Gatorades!"
Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Mr. Weasley, I don't think Gatorade will help in this situation. We should just leave here before more demons show up."
"Definitely," Harry agreed. "These cow demons are almost as bad as raccoons. Almost, of course." Harry shuddered. "Nothing beats raccoons, though."
"Cow demons?" he asked incredulously. "Now, are you three playing a joke on me?"
"Dad, does it look like we're joking?" Ginny made quite the impression, with the blood smeared all over her cleavage and tears streaming down her eyes.
"No. No. Of course not. Just give me a moment to find my things. If I can just find these Gatorades, I can help against the cow demon things. And we can help your mum!"
"I don't think Mum . . ." Ginny sniffled but couldn't finish the sentence. She probably didn't want to ruin her father's oddly calm disposition.
"We'll step outside and wait for you," Hermione said, doing so. Ginny and Harry followed shortly. Inside the shack, Mr. Weasley tried to use acio on his Gatorades, but, judging by the swearing, he wasn't having any luck.
"I don't have the heart to tell him." Ginny whispered to Harry and Hermione. "Mum's gone. She's not coming back. Killed by a bloody cow!"
Harry embraced her gently. It looked like a genuine, non-perverted moment of compassion for them. Then Harry grabbed her boob and she groped his bottom.
Hermione stepped aside and radioed Raynor, informing him of the situation. He swore upon hearing the report.
"A damn demon cow? Seriously? Are you sure it wasn't just a wizarding world creature?"
"It was resistant to magic," Hermione replied. "And it seemed . . . unnatural."
"Cain?" Raynor asked. "What do you think? Does an intelligent cow walking on two legs sound familiar to you?"
"Maybe," came Deckard Cain's rather guarded response. Hermione could tell he really did not want to get into the subject.
"Elaborate." Raynor demanded.
Cain sighed. "They're called Hell Bovines. They hail from the realm of Moo Moo Land."
"You're making this up!" Raynor snapped.
"Sadly, I am not making this up. Most definitely not."
Cain fell oddly silent.
"Well?" Raynor prompted. "What else do you know? You're a master stuff identifier!"
"I can surely identify stuff, but some stuff identification bears with it a costly emotional burden."
"Damn it, Cain! Just tell us more about these Hell Bovines! How dangerous are they?"
"Very. And, whatever you do, don't fall for their seductive wiles."
A very awkward silence ensued. Hermione imagined Raynor making an incredulous expression.
He cleared his throat. "I presume you mean 'seductive' in a more figurative sense."
"No." Cain clarified. "They're literally very seductive."
"Hermione said they look just like normal cows but standing on two hooves. What the hell are you talking about?"
"It's best that you don't sleep with a Hell Bovine princess. It makes the Cow King mad."
"What?" Raynor choked.
"Trust me. No matter how many drinks you've had, and no matter how seductively the cow princess says 'moo,' don't ever sleep with a Hell Bovine. It. Does. Not. End. Well."
"Yeah. I'll keep that in mind. Whatever you do, boys, do not be seduced by the cow demons."
Meanwhile, Hermione considered whether Cain was secretly an alternate version of Harry. It would explain Harry's fixation on centaur hookers.
"What's the best next course of action?" Hermione asked.
"I'm going to send some of our stealth operatives—Ghosts—into that house to clear it of any further dangers. We should soon be finding this gateway to Hell. From there, I guess we face off against this Lord of Terror fella. I'd say we'd be sending him to Hell, but he's already there. So, I'll just have to say we'll kill him dead. That'll have to do."
"Sounds like a plan."
"Yeah. And plans ain't worth shit when reality kicks you in the ass. Just bring Ginny's father over here, and we'll begin the next phase. Raynor out."
Mr. Weasley made a triumphant noise from inside the shack. "I finally found the Gatorades!" he declared.
There was a tiny clinking noise of metal, and then Mr. Weasley's next question caught Hermione off guard. "Now, what do I do after I remove the pin? This damn muggle technology is always so complicated!"
Hermione suddenly put two and two together and she knew why the "Gatorades" wouldn't respond to an acio spell. She threw open the door to the shack and had just enough time to shout, "No!" while lifting her wand. But it was too little, too late.
The last Hermione saw of Mr. Weasley was of him holding a grenade without a pin, a perplexed expression playing out across his face.
Then he exploded. The blast threw Hermione, Ginny, and Harry off their feet and onto their bottoms. Muggle artifacts rocketed through the air, and the tiny shack collapsed.
Ginny put her hands in front of her mouth in horror. "Dad!" she cried.
Hermione groaned with a combination of pain, irritation, and sadness.
"Damn! That's not the Gatorade I remember from muggles!" Harry said in astonishment. Hermione didn't bother explaining the situation to Harry. Honestly, it was a miracle Mr. Weasley had lasted so long collecting muggle artifacts he knew so little about.
Ginny appeared to be an emotional wreck. She started sobbing and sobbing. And Harry awkwardly patted her shoulders and folded her in his arms.
"What happened?" came Raynor's voice over the radio.
"Ginny, Harry, and I are fine," Hermione answered.
"What about Ginny's father?" Raynor wondered.
"He's dead, Jim. Grenade."
"Grenade? The cows have grenades?"
"No. He blew himself up. Like a dumbass."
"Oh."
Ginny must have heard Hermione's last remark, for she was glaring at Hermione, her eyes puffy red and swollen.
Before Ginny could speak, Hermione had pointed her wand at her. "Obliviate."
A blank expression came across Ginny's face.
Harry raised his eyebrows at Hermione, who shrugged. She found that she preferred the horny version of Ginny over the sobbing, hysterical version.
"Where am I?" Ginny rubbed her eyes.
"You're by the Burrow. Demons are attacking it, but your parents are nowhere to be found. You and Harry found that the place was clear enough to have a make-out session. Harry's wand accidentally went off during your passionate kissing (which was so good that you were crying) and you forgot the recent events because of it."
"I feel like this has happened before," she muttered, seemingly groggy.
"Maybe. Hard to tell when people keep on getting zapped and losing bits of their memory."
"True."
An odd epiphany struck Hermione. She had wiped the memories of Harry, Ginny, and Ron very frequently in her encounters with them. Had the years of magical mischief with their minds caused their personalities to shift? Had her suggestions of sexual activity following memory erasure gradually turned Ginny into a redheaded sex muffin?
Hermione should have felt guilty. Instead, she became fascinated. The hints of even greater power tantalized her.
"Hermione, are you feeling all right?" Ginny put a hand on Hermione's shoulder. "You seem a little . . . distracted."
"I'm perfectly fine. How about you? What are you feeling? I know losing your memory is never a pleasant experience."
She shrugged, tits—no longer so dreary—bouncing. "I don't think I missed much, anyway. Did I, Harry?"
Harry paused, giving the impression of a deer caught in the headlights. He shook his head with deliberate, slow motions and fiddled with his walrus moustache. "Not at all, my love."
"Great. I can't wait to close this gateway to Hell. I'm already looking forward to our next rendezvous."
Harry nodded, but not as enthusiastically as he would have under normal circumstances. He shot Hermione a surreptitious glance, and she acted as though she had not seen it.
The sound of gunfire emanated from the Burrow. The three followed the noises to the source of the disturbance, wands out and ready.
They saw nothing. And yet they heard the footsteps of people walking through the house.
"Do these space muggles have invisibility cloaks?" Harry asked.
"They can go invisible," Hermione answered, "but I don't think they're literal cloaks."
"Hmm. These muggles sure are sophisticated. Wish our muggles were as inventive."
"Yes. These . . . uh . . . space muggles are very special."
An agent with sleek, compact armor and an elongated sniper rifle (called a Ghost by Raynor) decloaked in front of the three wizards. "Hermione, we found the gateway up in the master bedroom. Also, we found a body. It's not in good shape. You might want to take a look at it. I understand you knew the people who lived here."
"Of course," Hermione replied.
"A body!" Ginny gasped, throwing her hands over her mouth. She rushed up the stairs ahead of everyone else. Screams followed.
Hermione did not bother hurrying up the stairs. She knew what she would find. Sure enough, a woman's body with its face cut off greeted her. Oddly enough, the corpse was cut up into pieces, as if the cow demon had kept hacking at her even after her death.
"Mum!" Ginny cried.
Hermione sighed, pointed her wand at Ginny's back, and shouted, "Obliviate!"
In the moment that Ginny was stunned from the sudden onset of memory loss, Hermione turned her wand on the corpse of Mrs. Weasley and shot it with a bolt of magic. A giant stack of pancakes appeared in the spot where the body had been. This time, they had whipped cream, cherries, and syrup on top. They looked positively delicious and not at all disturbing. Hermione smiled, knowing she had excellent people skills as well as an aptitude for the acquisition of knowledge.
The Ghost just looked at Hermione, didn't say a word, and then shook his head, as if incapable of working up the care to ask what the hell was going on. He likely assumed that this was wizarding tradition.
"What . . . what happened?" Ginny stammered, blinking multiple times through eyes clouded with confusion.
Hermione put on a fake, humorous grin. "We just came up here to investigate the gateway, and we found this stack of delightful pancakes lying on the floor of the bedroom. Harry was startled because they reminded him of a trap he had encountered in Nam. He started shooting spells randomly, and one of them hit you and wiped out your memory."
"Oh. Wow. You should be careful around Harry sometimes. He's powerful, you know. And his Nam flashbacks are pretty intense."
"Indeed," Hermione agreed. "At any rate, let's get on with investigating this whole Gateway to Hell."
"Wait a moment, Hermione," Harry interjected. Hermione frowned, suspicious he would betray her repeated memory wipes of Ginny. Instead, he turned to the Ghost, addressing him. "Normally, we don't tell younger wizards this, but you're a space muggle from another reality, so I'm going to give you a free tidbit of information. Do not eat those pancakes, no matter how delicious they seem."
"I . . . wasn't." The Ghost replied, incredulous. "Who would do that?"
"Dumbasses would, that's who. And there's always an overabundance of them at the beginning of the school year. Anyway, consider yourself warned—no eating strange unattended foods in odd locations."
"Understood." The Ghost turned to the closet, whose doors were swung shut. "Now we have to address this." The Ghost opened the doors, allowing a view of a, well—most hellish portal to Hell.
Harry jumped back in surprise. "Preposterous!"