Chapter Eleven
June 26, 1971
1:35 pm
Hermione stared at the closed door of the Magical Menagerie for several seconds after the future Headmaster disappeared through it. Realizing that her cousin was staring at her with an amused expression on his face, she cleared her throat and walked to where he was standing. The adorable black and grey kitten he was holding struggled to get out of his grasp. She reached for the animal, satisfied that he immediately stopped squirming in her hands.
"I don't know how you can go through life without adoring cats, Roddy," she teased, ruffling the playful kitten's fur.
"I'm not saying that kittens aren't adorable. I just believe dogs make much better pets."
Somehow she got the feeling that this was one disagreement they would never resolve. She smiled at the wizard and began scanning the contents of the shop.
"Care for a tour?"
"I would love one."
Hermione decided within the first few minutes of the in-depth tour she was being given by the enthusiastic owner of the store that it was a real shame Rodolphus did not feel brave enough to admit the truth to his father. He was in his element amongst all of the owls, lizards, rats, and more than a few slithering serpents that made his guest ill at ease. She would never be able to look at a snake without imagining the horrific night she and Harry spent at Bathilda Bagshot's home in Godric's Hollow. While she was pleased to not have been present for the moment that the rotting body of the famed historian came apart to release the horcrux residing within, the aftermath and the detailed description Harry gave later that night was more than enough to set her up with nightmares for the rest of her life. She gave the section with the snakes a wide berth, focusing instead of the dozens of different kinds of owls for sale.
"Do you have an owl yet?" Rodolphus asked when he caught her admiring a baby spectacled owl.
"Not yet. Honestly don't really have a need for one yet."
"That one's a sweet one. Not ready to deliver mail yet, but at the right age to start training." He ran this back of two of his fingers down the bird. The adorable owl preened under the attentions. "You'll be a real good one, won't you?"
The owl's tiny answering 'hoo' made them both laugh. Hermione wished she could take him home with her, but like she said, she did not have a need yet. At that point in her life she wasn't inundated with potential correspondents. If she was actually going to be stuck in the past for nine years as Aberforth accidentally revealed on her first night, her need for mail delivery would likely change. At least she could be almost certain that her cousin would offer a family discount when that day arrived.
"So your friend seemed very nice," she blurted out, hoping that she sounded as casual as possible.
Unfortunately she wasn't as casual as she hoped. Rodolphus laughed loudly enough to startle the tiny, baby owl. He hooted once more in what must have been an indignant tone before turning around on his perch to show them his back.
"I thought you might find him interesting. What is it? The tall, dark and handsome bit? His attempt to appear dangerous or that ridiculous goatee he insists looks good on him?"
She wasn't quite sure how to answer his question. While she ruminated on a possible response that would not give him cause to ridicule her relentlessly, she thought back to the night she met Igor Karkaroff officially for the first time. Naturally she remembered seeing him around the castle from the very first night the Durmstrang contingent arrived for the Triwizard Tournament her fourth year. Karkaroff was an imposing figure and had made an impression on her from the start.
There had not been an opportunity to actually speak to the man until the night of the Yule Ball. Viktor Krum smugly introduced his date to the Headmaster. Karkaroff narrowed his eyes at her, seeming to give her face a thorough examination without making it obvious what he was doing. She remembered feeling a bit nervous with the attention. Almost immediately he demanded to know who her parents were. When she proudly announced that both of her parents were Muggles, he actually sneered.
"Not who I assumed you were after all," he retorted before removing all attention from her the next moment in a haughty manner that annoyed her greatly.
Moments later he swept away from them in a flurry of silver furs. At the time she just assumed he was surprised to find out she was Muggle-Born. That fact still bothered a great number of people she met even after Lord Voldemort's final defeat. Now that she was standing in the middle of her cousin's store, she wondered if his initial reaction to her might not have been because he remembered meeting someone that looked an awful lot like her in the past. Maybe they knew each other well once upon a time. She felt a bit embarrassed by the thought of what that could mean.
"I'm just teasing you, Hermione. You don't have to answer."
"He speaks excellent English, hardly an accent. You said he's from Russia?"
"His mum is British. Russian is his first language, but he's been speaking English since before you were born."
She found that bit of knowledge interesting. He seemed very at ease speaking in her native language. Russian had always been a fascinating tongue for her to hear despite the fact she knew next to nothing about it.
"You met him on your tour?"
"Yes, he actually got to finish his. I'm certain he can answer any questions you might have for him about the tour."
He winked at her and proceeded to laugh again. Obviously he enjoyed teasing her immensely. Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes.
"Actually, he's not a bad sort of fellow. Tries to make himself seem more important or dangerous than he really is, but every time he comes to visit my store he picks up the first fluffy kitten he can find. I'm certain he would take one home with him if he wasn't still an apprentice."
"He's a potions apprentice?"
Rodolphus smirked. This time Hermione did not care if he witnessed her roll her eyes.
"Uh huh. I got the feeling you would like the smart wizards."
"Oh, shut up!"
After they both laughed for a moment, she hugged her cousin closely. It had been an unexpectedly emotional day for her. She was thankful that she had had proper support. Rodolphus seemed embarrassed by the attention. Here was yet another man in her new life that was unfamiliar with affection. It made her sad. She was ready to go back to Hogsmeade. The wizard kissed her cheek before she left with assurances that he would be by some time that week to see her again. She was already looking forward to the visit.
Her new father was inspecting a glass when she walked back into The Hog's Head. There was only a single half-asleep witch in the corner. Hermione expected the excitement would pick up later that evening. Aberforth was behind the bar just staring at the sparkling glass with a bemused and annoyed expression on his face. While it was difficult to see behind his mass of whiskers, Hermione rolled her eyes. The day before she'd taught him a self-cleaning spell for all of his glassware. He was still not impressed with the charm, convinced that his customers weren't the sort to care whether or not their glass was clean. Hermione sat on the bar stool across from him patiently waiting for him to give up his assessment.
"Did you enjoy yourself in London?"
Hermione sighed. Aberforth crinkled his blue eyes and set the glass back down on the bar.
"Not at first," she answered. "But it got better."
His concern for her wellbeing was evident. Once the inevitable question of what happened exited his mouth, Hermione sighed again. She was not sure she wanted to tell him the complete truth.
"I had a panic attack just as we were entering the bank. I'm still humiliated."
"A panic attack? Why? What happened?"
Already hating that she said anything, Hermione tried to brush off the incident like it was nothing. Aberforth, however, was relentless. His concern was evident and growing.
"Did the goblins frighten you? They've been known to unnerve me a time or two."
Hermione sighed before telling him 'no'.
"Something happen in the future?"
Hermione nodded her head. At first she was reluctant to give him any further details, but she really wanted to talk to someone about what happened. Besides, he would not be in danger of knowing too much if she just gave him the barest details.
"My two best friends and I broke into the bank during the war with a renegade goblin. Burglarized a high security vault. Stole their dragon. Actually rode it out of there in our escape."
Aberforth knocked over several of the newly charmed glasses. In one massive clang that startled the witch in the corner full awake, at least ten glasses shattered on the clean stone floor. Hermione lazily waved her wand in the direction of the glasses, repairing and levitating them back onto their proper shelf. Aberforth looked like he was in danger of having a stroke. He was forced to take multiple deep breaths before he could speak again.
"Well, obviously you lived to tell the tale, but gods, child! What kind of dangerous world were you living in?"
Hermione shrugged her shoulders. It was easy not to dwell on the constant danger she had been in since she was eleven years old. Being friends with Harry meant she was thrust into situations that no one should ever be forced into, let alone children. She wasn't sure how to answer his question without revealing too much about the future.
"No, you're right. Best not to tell me anymore." Aberforth exhaled deeply again. "Are you all right now? After this morning?"
She nodded her head in the affirmative.
"Still a little embarrassed, but Roddy said not many people saw me. He helped calm me down."
"I'm sorry it was a distressing morning, but you said it got better?"
She nodded again and gave him a bright smile.
"Spend a great deal of Reg's money?'
They both chuckled when she answered that she had indeed enjoyed spending Regnault's galleons.
"Some of your packages arrived while you were out. Mind putting them away?"
Hermione smiled and hopped off of the stool. Only one step inside of the back made her burst out into loud laughter. Boxes with the prominent Twilfitt and Tattings logo were piled on every single surface. She could hardly see the parlor furniture for the stacks of purchases. A quick glance in the direction of her bedroom proved that even more were piled inside the room on her bed. Somehow it didn't seem like she was buying as much as she was when she was in the store. Realizing that the saleswitches told her that she should be expecting more packages to arrive throughout the week, she started to feel a bit embarrassed by the extravagance.
"Did you leave anything left in the shop, lass?"
She laughed again at his twinkling eyes. The rest of her Saturday was spent casting numerous extension charms on her cupboard and various pieces of furniture in her bedroom to accommodate her new wardrobe. With more still left to be delivered, she had her work cut out for her to complete the project. Only when the last box was unpacked did she finally allow herself a rest.
July 3, 1971
7:30 pm
Hermione passed the most pleasant week so far of her trip to the past entirely inside the village of Hogsmeade. There was so much to see that she had never had the chance to with her short Saturday afternoon visits during school. She was quickly becoming a recognized and favorite sight of the shopkeepers up and down the village.
There was also a great deal to keep herself busy at the pub. Aberforth had all but given up on trying to fight the determined witch when she had her mind set to something. Every surface in the entire inn was sparkling like new before the week was out. He had been impressed to find out that she had even been able to book a couple of overnight guests in one of the rooms upstairs. Each night the main room was hosting more and more curious patrons who could not get over the fact that it was possible to actually see the floor of the ancient pub. When he experienced the most profitable week of his entire career as the proprietor of the establishment, he grumbled to himself that maybe some of the chit's ideas were valid. Hermione simply smiled as he ran through the numbers in his books.
Thomas Shacklebolt had been a frequent visitor to the pub during the days. Unlike every other friend she had ever had in the past or rather, future, Thomas completed his summer assignments well before everyone else did. While his brother was stuck at their grandmother's home being forced to work under their mother's watchful eye, the older brother was able to get to know their new neighbor better. Determined to make it seem as if she had not spent six years of her life within the castle walls, Hermione asked him dozens of questions about how the school was set up, what the professors were like, what classes she should sign up for. He had been a helpful confidant.
When Kingsley was released for a few hours Thursday afternoon, he rushed to The Hog's Head to find out just what his older brother was up to with Hermione. It was obvious that he was very suspicious of the two of them spending so much time alone. That thought only served to amuse Hermione. While she could not deny that Thomas was handsome and any girl would be lucky to be able to pull him into a vacant broom cupboard, she was quite simply not interested. He was only a friend. Everything about him felt familiar and comforting in a time that was neither. Kingsley's suspicions were funny and very annoying at the same time.
Saturday evening found Hermione behind the bar learning to make a smoking cocktail that was made with a small amount of Pepper-Up potion. The drinkers were willing to endure smoke coming out of their ears for the pleasure and she was excited to learn a new skill. Aberforth was a patient teacher. At half-past seven the bell above the door rang out to announce new arrivals. She was not surprised to see Rodolphus at all. As soon as he entered with a wide grin she waved at him, narrowly missing knocking over the entire smoking pitcher. When Igor entered the pub just moments behind him, she felt a pleasant fluttering in her stomach. She was thankful that she was wearing some of her new clothes despite Aberforth's repeated assurances that she would get her 'new frocks dirty'.
Rodolphus and Igor settled themselves at the table closest to the fireplace. Neither of them seemed to be in any hurry as they patiently waited for her to approach them after finishing her lesson. Once she was within a few feet of their table, both men rose to their feet. Rodolphus to hug her and kiss her cheek. Igor to kiss the back of her hand and wink. In an effort to distract herself from the humiliating crush she was developing on the Russian wizard, she asked them what she could bring them to drink.
"Three glasses of your best fire whiskey."
"Oh, are you expecting someone else to join you?" she asked, intensely curious about the man's evening plans.
"No, only hoping you would."
Rodolphus scoffed quietly and rolled his eyes. Igor was not bothered by his best friend's reaction. Simply winked again at the flustered witch. Hermione looked around the room at the number of customers present.
"I'm sure I can join you both for a drink. I may have to get up to help Dad if he needs me."
"Of course."
Hermione crossed the large room to stand back behind the bar. She immediately began filling up three glasses with fire whiskey. While she was slowly learning to appreciate the liquor, she was not sure she would ever become a fan of the caustic liquid. It tended to hurt her stomach for hours after imbibing. Aberforth cast a suspicious eye towards the table with the young wizards.
"Who's the foreign one?" he demanded, his voice quiet but still gruff.
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes when she told Aberforth who was sitting with Rodolphus. He did not like the idea of her joining them, but did not stop her. A mutter of her being of age and stubborn caught her ear as she walked away, carefully levitating the glasses in front of her.
The next hour and a half passed with almost incessant pleasurable chatter between the three. Hermione did not need to help Aberforth as the pub remained fairly slow. Part of her was disappointed that they weren't extremely busy to help line the coffers, but every time Igor flashed a grin in her direction she was grateful. There was a wealth of subjects for them to all talk about. She enjoyed asking Igor about his apprenticeship with one of the prominent potions masters alive in that day.
"Oh, please, Hermione, don't ask him to start describing to you what he's been working on," Rodolphus begged in a teasing tone. "We'll be here all bloody night listening to him talk about rejuvenation potions and the best way to shred a shrivelfig. I can't bear it!"
Her chosen topic of his years at Durmstrang was a much more welcome topic as it allowed Rodolphus the opportunity to contribute with stories about his years at Hogwarts. The schools were vastly different which naturally led to many friendly, yet heated debates on which one was better.
"Rod, mate, no, no! It's not that Durmstrang encourages learning the Dark Arts. It simply gives us the opportunity. Your Headmaster was doing you a disservice to limit your education. Magic is magic. What your government labels as Dark is not always Dark."
"Would you say that intent has a great deal to do with whether or not magic can be considered Dark, Igor?" Hermione asked, very interested in his line of thinking.
"Of course! Take the Imperius Curse. No one here would deny that it is a dangerous spell in the wrong hands, but is it Dark? Not necessarily. What if it helped prevent a suicidal person from killing themselves? Would you still say that was Dark?"
By the time the bells around the village began pealing to announce the nine o'clock hour, they had gone through topics ranging from Igor's family home in Russia to their mutual experiences on the Grand Tour to England's chances in the next World Cup. Hermione had been adamant in limiting herself to only two glasses of fire whiskey, but she was still experiencing the effects. It was helpful in keeping her uncharacteristic shyness under control. Rodolphus glanced at his watch and groaned loudly.
"What's wrong, Roddy?"
"I'm expected at the Black home for a discussion with my blushing bride-to-be."
He downed the rest of his fire whiskey in a single swallow. Hermione felt nothing but sympathy for the man. Knowingly seeking out Bellatrix Black had to be a frightening prospect.
"Afraid I must leave you both."
Igor wasted not a second promising to keep a close eye on his cousin for him. Rodolphus rolled his eyes and left several galleons on the table to cover their tab for the evening.
"Have you ever met Bellatrix?"
Hermione lied and said that she hadn't. Technically, they had yet to meet. They would not come face to face for another twenty-five years in the Department of Mysteries, but she certainly could not tell him that without seeming insane.
"I always get the feeling she's only four seconds away from removing my bollocks with her teeth."
She almost spewed fire whiskey all over the man. He smirked before continuing with a dramatic shudder.
"She's terrifying. Feel bad for Rod. He deserves better. Arranged marriages are so cold."
"You don't have a wife picked out for you by your parents?"
Igor laughed at the question. His opinion on the matter of arranged marriages became even clearer.
"No, I do not. We are more, umm, progressive in Russia. I will pick my own wife if and when I decide to get married."
"I agree. My uncle wants to choose my husband for me. I informed him in no uncertain terms that I could not go along with that. My dad supports my wishes completely."
"It's for the best," Igor agreed. "Your uncle would likely match you with some old, boring wizard from an ancient, boring family. You would be miserable and I would be miserable."
It was her turn to laugh.
"Why would you be miserable if I had an arranged marriage?"
"Because it would be inappropriate for me to call on you and get to know you better. Both of which I am very interested in doing."
Hermione's stomach clenched at his statement spoken in a low tone. She knew that she was blushing. Damn it, she was always blushing around this wizard. Igor reached across the small table to cover her hand with his. The touch only lasted a moment. When he released her hand, he ran the back of his index finger down her reddened cheeks. She shivered slightly at the contact.
"You are flushed, Hermione. Is it too warm in here? Should we move away from the fireplace?"
She tried to assure him that she was fine even though it was a bit warm in there. Igor only laughed. Hermione had the instant worry that he must think that she was some kind of idiot, naïve child. Maybe he was only teasing her because he was bored and the young witch was providing him a distraction. She was not sure why it was important to her that he not think of her that way. Igor leaned across the table to speak softly directly into her ear.
"Would you care to join me for a walk through the village? Perhaps the cool night air will do us both some good."
He had hardly finished talking before she was agreeing. Hermione rose from the table and picked up Rodolphus' galleons to take up to the bar. Aberforth watched every step she made without speaking. When she told him that she was going for a walk outside, he narrowed his eyes in Igor's direction once again. His suspicions from earlier had not improved as the evening wore on.
"Not until I meet the young wizard staring at you first."
Hermione was torn between being annoyed by his request and being touched by Aberforth's concern for her. They were still finding their way around each other. Still learning to live with each other and still figuring out how their new father-daughter relationship was supposed to work. Being apprehensive about a potential suitor and demanding to be introduced before allowing them to leave was exactly how her own Muggle dad would react in that situation. She would likely find it endearing later, but in that moment, she was a bit frustrated by his seeming overprotectiveness. One glance at Igor and a wave brought him across the bar in moments.
"Igor Karkaroff, this is my father Aberforth Dumbledore. Dad, this is Rod's best friend Igor Karkaroff."
The younger wizard tried and failed to use his charming personality to soften the harsh glares the older wizard was sending in his direction. Aberforth was not moved by handsome grins or rakish winks. Hermione was feeling more and more embarrassed as the short interaction wore on.
"Will you be gone long, lass? I'll need to know when to alert the aurors."
Hermione groaned out loud and rolled her eyes for yet another time that evening.
"I will just be outside, Dad. No need to 'alert the aurors'. Come on, Igor."
Karkaroff laughed all the way out the front door. Obviously he found the cheeky little witch very amusing. They walked several paces from the pub before either one of them said a word. Igor was finally the one to break the silence.
"Your father seems an interesting sort."
"I'm sorry about back there."
"No, no need to apologize. I respect a man who is protective of his daughter around strange, foreign wizards."
His wink set them both laughing. The tension began to break slightly. As their walk progressed, their earlier comfort in speaking with each other returned. They spoke about nothing of any consequence, but both found the walk pleasant. When Hermione looked ahead and saw the edge of the village looming ahead, she grew nervous. While she was not afraid of the man, knowing that they were just a short distance from almost complete privacy made her a bit anxious.
Igor stopped walking just as the village ended. He turned around to face Hermione with a broad grin on his handsome face. She startled just a hint when the back of his right hand ran down her cheek once more.
"I had hoped the night air might take some of the flush out of your cheeks."
She could feel herself blush even harder. Hermione hated how expressive her face could be. Every time she was nervous or frightened or embarrassed or angry or a thousand other emotions, the blood rushed under her skin. It could make an awkward situation even more awkward. Igor seemed to find the action delightful. He stepped closer to her, moving his hands to rest just on the outside of her upper arms.
"Am I making you nervous, Hermione?"
"A little bit."
Igor's soft chuckles above her emboldened her just enough to meet his deep blue eyes. She hazarded a small smile, trying desperately to ignore the frantic fluttering in her stomach. He leaned down from his lofty height to bring his mouth to hers. Before their lips could touch, they were both startled by someone clearing their throat nearby. Hermione was annoyed that the almost perfect moment was ruined. A first kiss was important.
She turned around to tell the interloper to bugger off. Fenrir Greyback's smirking face terrified her beyond words. Igor grabbed her roughly into his arms, putting himself between them. She appreciated the protective stance he adopted at the werewolf's arrival.
"I do hope I wasn't interrupting, Karkaroff." He sniffed the air loudly. The grin that appeared on his lips made Hermione want to run. "Appears I was. Your witch smells just like the right mix of arousal and fear. Intoxicating."
Hermione could hardly breathe. She had not even once considered the possibility of running into Greyback in the past. Memories of the horrific night spent in Malfoy Manor ran through her mind. Greyback had been so focused on what he wanted to do to her, so disgusting in his whispered plans in her ear. She clung so tightly to Igor's robes that her fingers began to hurt.
"What do you want, Greyback?"
"Just to remind you that our mutual friend is growing weary. Sent me to encourage you to make your mind up faster."
Voldemort must have already begun attempting to recruit Igor, Hermione decided. That was the only possible explanation that made any sense. She knew next to nothing about the man shielding her from the werewolf beyond he was a disloyal Death Eater when his Dark Lord returned the second time and that he died after being on the run for a year. Some called him a coward. Others said that he was brave to face the wrath of Voldemort by not returning. She simply thought he was sad. Part of her wished she could influence the future Death Eaters before they became acolytes of the evil serpentine man. She was not sure if it was even possible to change the course of the future.
"I have not forgotten," Igor spat. "You can run along now."
Greyback took a moment to leer at Hermione once more. He made a dramatic show of sniffing the air again.
"Have a pleasant evening, Karkaroff."
The werewolf Disapparated away moments later. Igor exhaled harshly the moment he was out of their sight. He spun around to face Hermione again. Both of his hands landed on her shoulders and he stared her directly in the eyes.
"He is a very dangerous man, Hermione. Do not ever allow yourself to be caught alone by him."
She nodded, unable to trust her voice. Igor grasped one of her hands in his to lead her back into the village. Neither of them spoke a word the entire trek back to the safety of her father's house. All thoughts of sneaking a first kiss were left behind in the darkened woods.
June 19, 1998
7:20 am
Kingsley had no idea what he could say to his grandmother to get her to remove the scowl from her face. Though he did not want to admit it out loud, neither he nor Aberforth had really even thought much about what they were going to do after Hermione was sent back. The main focus had been on making certain that she could arrive in the past as she had so many years before. He was an intelligent man capable of thinking on his feet. They only had to keep the charade of not knowing where Hermione was for a few months.
"You don't have a plan, do you?"
The wizened witch seemed ready to strike him or hex him. He neither knew nor cared which. Kingsley knew his granny. She wasn't going to sell him out for anything. He had always been her favorite. She could be trusted to keep a secret.
"Margie, leave the lad alone."
"Ab, you stay out of this! This right now is between me and my grandson."
"No, Margie, I won't let you stand there and berate him," Aberforth continued. "We made a decision. You can either agree with it or shut your big gob."
Kingsley had to bite down on both of his lips to prevent the smile threatening to overpower his mouth. One second of mirth caught by that woman's eye and he was a goner. She was a powerful little thing who knew some of the nastiest hexes imaginable. He watched the two friends engage in a tense staring match. To his great surprise, his granny was the one who finally broke it off.
"Fine!" she conceded. "Let's all go up to the castle and pretend we don't know where our girl is."
"Granny, you're one hundred and fourteen years old," Kingsley gently reminded the woman.
"And three months younger than this arse," she replied, making a rude gesture in Aberforth's direction that once upon a time would've earned him a smack in the back of the head. "If he's going, I'm going."
The Minister for Magic rolled his eyes and followed his grandmother to the front door. All three of them were out of the pub and on their way to the castle moments later.