Chapter Eleven - Letters from Home
Tell us everything, Hermione thought glumly as she stared at the blank piece of parchment laying atop her parents letter from home asking for details on her new life in the magical world. Parchment that remained as stubbornly blank as it had when she placed it on the desk in her dormitory in Gryffindor tower over an hour ago.
It was now the second week of September, her Birthday fast approaching and Hogwarts was proving to be everything she had hoped and feared it would be in equal measures.
She, of course, loved the school work, and, thanks to her diligent nature and boundless curiosity, was proving to be quite a talented young witch. Although even with her two year head start on her fellow first years thanks to The Other Hermione, it had still taken her almost a whole transfiguration lesson to make even the slightest difference to the match she had been attempting to turn into a needle - hers had turned silver and pointy but it was still fibrous, like a silver toothpick. Professor McGonagall, however, seemed impressed and awarded her five house points.
She had been uncertain as to why her efforts, minimal as they were, had won such praise until she noted, with no small degree of satisfaction that none of her classmates had come remotely close. She, it seemed, was something of a star pupil.
But whilst she was enjoying, and excelling, at the school work, her deep seated fears that she would prove inadequate to the task the Other Hermione had set her were proving, to her mind at least, well founded.
Her stomach gave a pathetic flip flop as she thought of The Other Hermione - her mentor. It had been nearly two months since she had last seen the elderly witch and had long since come to the conclusion that some terrible fate must have befallen her first link to the magical world. Her elder self had never gone this long without contacting her before, and, especially now, in the most crucial moments of fulfilling her destiny, she knew the elder witch would not deliberately abandon her.
Destiny. The word dragged her thoughts back to her parents letters from home asking to know everything, but how could she do that? How could she even begin to put into words the weight of expectation she felt, the pressure, the pitiful knowledge that she, and only she, could prevent the world going to hell in the manner The Other Hermione had described? Especially given that you are doing such a poor job of fulfilling that destiny, the snide inner voice that had become quite bothersome in recent weeks reminded her.
It was true though, she recalled miserably. Aside from managing to convince the sorting hat to place her with Harry in Gryffindor, she had been unable, or perhaps incapable the snide voiced offered, of forming any sort of relationship with him.
It didn't help that Harry seemed a bit - a little - well a little bit reckless if truth be told. Although the knowledge that, in events yet to come, Harry would go in search of the same dark wizard who had already made one attempt on his life, she supposed she shouldn't be overly surprised at that particular personality trait.
Things had come to a head for her in their first flying class together. A cruel Slytherin boy by the name of Draco Malfoy - someone Hermione knew grew into one of Voldermorts most trusted lieutenants in the other time line - had stolen a Rememberall from Neville Longbottom who had been injured early in the class. With their teacher, Madame Hooch, escorting the forgetful boy to the hospital wing, Malfoy had taunted the Gryffindors in general, but Harry in particular, that he was going to leave it up a tree.
"Come and get it, Potter." The blonde had called from his broom, hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak tree in the school grounds.
Hermione had grabbed Harry's arm and shouted, "No!"
Harry turned, his green eyes glinting dangerously, "Madame Hooch told us not to move," she had tried to explain. "You'll get us all into trouble." she added quietly, her voice fading to nothing. Her real concerns, You'll be hurt, remaining unsaid.
He hadn't been. In fact quite the opposite. Professor McGonagall had seen his demonstration of what, even to Hermione's untrained eye, was clearly some spectacular flying and had authorised him to join the Gryffindor house quidditch team.
Hermione's facial expressions had warred with themselves as she experienced both pride in Harry for standing up to the bullies (she had seen there, the first hints of the person who could fulfil his own destiny and rid the world of Voldermort) and the even higher anxiety levels she would now endure as he took part in the dangerous sport, as she eavesdropped on Harry and Ron telling the other Gryffindors in the great hall.
Objectively she knew that in the original time line Harry had not died until the last term of the first year, but that didn't stop her worrying. The time line had already undergone some subtle alterations compared to the one she had committed to memory. Other than her own sorting into Gryffindor, the twins had been placed in separate houses and now Harry had become the youngest quidditch player in a century, a fact which Hermione was certain, The Other Hermione would not have left out from her briefings. The only logical conclusion therefore was that these events had not happened before.
But that wasn't the main reason she was anxious tonight, not after what she had overheard in the great hall at dinner time. Not after pushing Harry even further from her.
The Malfoy boy approached Harry and his best friend, Ron Weasley, at dinner. Hermione, who had shuffled closer along the bench to catch their hushed conversation, turned her head away abruptly in the realisation that Ronald Weasley could now legitimately take that title. A position she had hoped to fill. She was sure anyone looking at her would have seen her chocolate eyes flare green.
She pushed the errant jealousy down deep inside, mentally scolding herself for her moment of weakness. What did you expect? She berated. Just because the prophecy foretells that you will save Harry so that he can go on to destroy Voldermort, doesn't automatically mean that you and he will be close friends.
Returning her attention to the boys muttered conversation she strained her ears, noting grimly that Malfoy was baiting Harry into a wizard duel, her lips thinning into an almost invisible line as she heard Ron reply in response to Malfoy's taunt about Harry not knowing what a wizard duel was;
"Of course he has. I'm his second, who's yours?" he retorted, effectively accepting the challenge.
Malfoy had turned his pale face away from Hermione, she assumed sizing up his hulking bodyguards, and although she couldn't hear the words she presumed the boy with basin hair cut - Crabbe - had been chosen by the way he cracked his knuckles menacingly, a cruel smile quirking at the corner of his mouth.
Malfoy named the time and place - the trophy room at midnight - turned on his heel and left, Harry seizing the opportunity to quiz Ron on what a wizards duel actually was.
Hope flared up in her chest as she realised that Harry hadn't actually agreed to anything. Ron had done all the talking. Perhaps she could still talk him out of it.
She stood, rather more abruptly that she had intended, sending Dean Thomas's goblet tumbling from his grasp, spilling his juice across the table, which was Scourified by Percy Weasley a moment later.
Ignoring her fellow Gryffindors complaints, she squared her shoulders and strode over to where Harry and Ron were sitting, heads close together, deep in conversation.
"Excuse me." she said in what she had intended to be a polite tone of interruption, but that came out indignant.
"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron, obviously irritated. Their relationship had certainly not improved beyond the less than favourable first impression she had made on the train.
Hermione ignored him and spoke directly to Harry, making a concerted effort not to put her hands on her hips, still unsure of what exactly she wanted to say. "I couldn't help but overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying - "
"Bet you couldn't." Ron muttered.
Hermione's eyebrows knitted together. Is that really what they thought of her? Some snooping busybody with nothing better to do that live vicariously through others?
" - you mustn't go wandering around the school at night." she continued but her train of thought had been completely derailed. "Think of all the points you'll loose for Gryffindor if you're caught, and you're bound to be -"
She was rambling. She tried to clamp her jaw shut, but, before she could manage it all the confusion, jealousy and pressure she felt bubbled to the surface in one hurtful sentence; "Its really selfish of you."
Now she did place her hands on her hips in an approximation of a haughty posture, anything to stop her hands flying to her mouth in disgust at herself.
She barely heard Harry and Ron's cold dismissal of her before she bolted to the Gryffindor common room, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.
oOo
Hermione threw herself out of her chair, sending it skittering loudly backwards across the floor where it over balanced and fell over with a surprisingly large crash, fresh tears threatening to break past the emotion dam she had erected, her parents letter lying forgotten on the floor.
She paced her deserted dormitory restlessly - her classmates, despite the late hour, were still downstairs in the common room - but it did little to stem the emotional volatility, which quickly gave way to a rising temper. Damn you Harry! She thought furiously, punctuating her thought by stamping her foot in a petulant manner that she was pleased there was no one around to see. It isn't supposed to be this way. It isn't supposed to be this hard!
Well I'm not going to let them get away with it. If I cant be his friend then the least I can do is keep him from killing himself, at least until his date with destiny.
Her decision made, she grabbed her dressing gown from where it had been flung - it had been draped over the back of her desk chair - and stormed downstairs to the still crowded common room.
She scanned the round room for either Harry or Ron, and, sure enough, a vivid mop of red hair caught her eye and she made her way, as directly as was possible between the squashy arm chairs and the like, towards it.
But it was not Ron Weasley.
"Can I help you?" came the slightly pompous voice of Percy Weasley, Ron's elder brother.
Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times as her emotions roiled within. If she just told someone what she had heard they'd be stopped, Harry would be safe.
But he'll hate you for it, offered the snide voice within.
Better that than dead, logical Hermione countered.
Maybe they'll be expelled. You can't protect him if he's returned to the muggles.
For that, Hermione had no answer.
"Are you quite alright?" Percy pressed, his voiced now softer with a slight edge of concern.
Hermione realised with a start what she must look like; a puffy eyed first year, with tear soaked lashes standing mutely in front of a school prefect.
"Thought you were someone else," she mumbled and hurried away to a corner where she deposited herself in an arm chair facing the fire.
oOo
Voices.
Hermione jerked awake from a sleep she hadn't realised she had entered as two long shadows made their way across the now deserted common area. Their figures co-mingling with the shadowy shapes of the chairs and stools still cluttered around the room, lit only by the dying embers of the fire.
Hermione pushed off the blanket that had been placed across her, briefly wondering who might have covered her, as she flicked on a lamp on the table next to her chair and watched as the figures froze, matching looks of horror on their faces.
Looks which quickly evolved to disgust as their eyes adjusted to the light and saw who was confronting them.
Ron, who was wearing what looked like a home made maroon dressing gown looked furious. "You!" he said. "Go back to bed!"
Hermione glowered at him, how was it possible, she wondered, that she could dislike someone so much, so quickly. "I almost told your brother," she snapped, enjoying the brief look of uncertainty that flickered across his features which said, as clear as if he'd spoken aloud; she wouldn't!
"Come on." Harry said speaking for the first time, and guiding Ron away from her towards the portrait hole, but their attitude had Hermione's temper worked back up to its earlier level - what her Mother referred to as a 'full Hermione'.
"Don't you care about Gryffindor, or do you only care about yourselves," she spat, building up a full head of steam, as she pursued them out of the portrait hole. "I don't want Slytherin, Voldermort she added silently, to win."
"Go away."
Hermione almost laughed at the red-head's pathetic retort, but instead threw her hands in the air and replied. "Fine, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train tomorrow, you're so...going to be expelled." she finished unspoken, returning to her earlier argument. If Harry was expelled she had no chance of protecting him.
"Now what am I going to do?" she was slightly startled to hear her words aloud.
"That's your problem," said Ron, indicating the deserted picture frame, incorrectly assuming that she had referred to the absence of the Fat Lady, preventing her from returning to the common room, rather than her very real concerns about Harry's well-being "We've got to go, we're going to be late." and they turned and walked away into the gloomy corridor.
Sure enough the Fat Lady had vacated her frame. Not for the first time Hermione wondered again about the existence of fate - it was almost as if Hogwarts wanted to give her an excuse to stay with Harry. Offering her silent thanks to the Fat Lady's empty portrait she hurried after the duo as quickly as she could without creating too much noise on the hard stone floor. "I'm coming with you."
oOo
A little over an hour later Hermione lay on her bed staring up at the canopy of her four poster bed, her thoughts racing as she tried to assimilate all that had happened that evening.
Having barely made good their escape from Filch, after Malfoy, as she had expected would happen, had failed to show up in the trophy room at the appointed hour, the foursome – they had discovered Neville Longbottom curled up on the floor outside Gryffindor tower – had also had to evade the wicked poltergeist, Peeves, finding themselves in the forbidden corridor on the third floor.
They now knew exactly why it was forbidden.
A terrifying, three headed, twenty foot high, ferocious dog stood on the other side of the doorway that Hermione had magically unlocked to hide from their pursuers.
"I - told - you." Hermione had fought out through ragged breaths after they had escaped from the monstrous dogs lair – a Cerberus, she had since discovered - but was summarily ignored as Ron pointed out the obvious; that they should return to Gryffindor tower, but she wasn't finished. "Malfoy tricked you. You realise that don't you?" she said speaking directly to Harry, staring into his eyes, the moonlight making them stand out vividly against his pale skin. "He was never going to meet you - Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room. Malfoy must have tipped him off."
Harry's eyes seemed to agree with her, but he didn't say it aloud. It's a start, she mused.
But it was not the Cerberus, or even the burgeoning understanding with Harry she had felt that was keeping her awake now. It was the fact that the dog had been guarding something. A trap door; a trap door in exactly the place Hermione knew that Harry – The Other Harry – had been killed in the alternate time line.
She had to know what that dog was guarding.
If Hermione were to change the time line; change it and keep Harry alive, she had to figure out what that dog was guarding, and why it had proved so important, ultimately resulting in Voldermorts rebirth.
Her mind considered the question from every possible angle for many hours, but when she fell into a fitful sleep just before sunrise, she still had no answers to any of those questions.
A/N
This chapter expanded out of Hermione's bluff in canon that she had nearly gone to Percy about the midnight duel. It made me wonder why wouldn't she? Her fear of not being able to 'keep an eye' on Harry if he were expelled seemed good enough motivation to me.
The next time we see young Hermione it will be during the winter holiday when she is back home with her parents, whilst Harry and Ron are charged with finding out more about Flamel, but first we go back to AU Hermione, the next chapter is called – Revelations.
Nothing is mine.
