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So far... The reborn Hermione befriended Harry and family (Sirius & Hestia,) but 7-year-old Neville is jealous, and her plan to root out Ministry corruption fell apart, so she must rethink what can be done and how. She persuaded the Lovegoods to help her search for a Snorkack – but was it solely to make friends with Luna? Now read on...
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Chapter 15
Quest For A Creature
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Timberline Camp
Although the country's climate was generally mild considering its latitude, the intended destination within Sweden was too high and bitter to consider travelling there in any but the warmest part of the year. Additionally, Hermione wished to delay until after Harry's eighth birthday at the end of July. So it was, at the start of August, tearful goodbyes were exchanged and Hermione set out alone to the Lovegoods to begin the start of the journey. She had not needed much effort to persuade her parents to remain behind. Mr Granger could not spare even a month away from work and Mrs Granger took the opportunity to rejoin him 'to keep my hand in' she joked, biting her knuckles in imitation of a frightened patient.
"Send Farrimond regularly, won't you, darling?"
"Of course I will, Mum, and I can pop over in seconds if I'm needed for anything important."
The expedition was organised beautifully by Pandora. Permits and papers and Portkeys from the Swedish Magical Authority had been received long before Hermione arrived at the Lovegoods. Xeno was fussing over his brood of cameras like a mother hen; Luna was packing sketchpads and pencils – "For Mummy to paint properly when I get home" – and Mrs Lovegood herself was diligently ticking items on a giant checklist with her wand. Three items remained: her husband and the two youngsters, to each of which she gave her final scrutiny and nod of approval.
Pandora kissed goodbye her daughter and Hermione as they stood on a virtual raft of luggage and equipment not far outside the front door. Xeno embraced his wife for one final smooch then she stood back as he and the two young girls gripped the flagpole in the centre of the rough pontoon.
The swirl took them away in moments and the air cooled rapidly as they skimmed into a soft landing high up on a broad western incline where mountain scree fought miniature tree for every inch of available space. The sparse, stunted woodland ended its uphill struggle at this tired-out battle front of nature. While there was no depth of snow except on the higher peaks, there were thin, frozen hoar streaks here and there and solid frost glittered too from many surfaces. Hermione shivered but Luna gave no indication she'd noticed it was cold.
"Ideal campsite!" beamed Xeno, looking up the dry slope for any sign of snow or rock slides. "Right, first things first."
He went over to the baggage and slid out a small wand which he handed to Luna. "Show me the firecracker spell then run like I've taught you, Luna – bright and loud as you can way over there near that tree."
Hermione looked on in astonishment as the little girl cast the spell then turned and ran in the opposite direction. The flames were as high as the topmost branches but caused no harm –while the noise was as loudly-shocking as a dozen fireworks cracking off in sequence. The tree shook a little and frost cascaded down. Even a Manticore would be startled by such a display and likely be diverted for a time.
"First rule is we stick together so only use it if you are threatened or lost," cautioned Mr Lovegood, "and I'll come running. Hermione, you keep close, understand?"
Surprised by his common sense and innovation, Hermione could not help but wonder if Pandora had instructed him, for his next move was to cut out and ignite a long trench of fire that quickly began warming them.
Once a set of connected wigwams had been sprung up in a semi-circle, Hermione asked Luna about her magic.
"I'm only allowed that one spell and a life charm for my drawings – oh, and a few sparks," replied Luna. "Mummy's teaching me to draw. She says I'm not old enough for a wand yet except under supervision or in an emergency, and in Britain, children can't use them away from their parents because of the Trace."
"Quite right," said Mr Lovegood as he hung a kettle over the campfire. "Too dangerous."
As they sat watching the kettle swing over the warming flames, Hermione considered the moment was opportune. "Have you considered a child's trainer wand? You can do quite a few simple spells with them."
Xeno's head jerked away from kettle-watching. "No reputable wandmakers sell those dangerous playthings and the Ministry discourage them!" He puffed out his chest. "Earlier this year, we at The Quibbler played our part in uncovering an illicit den that was circulating all kinds of unauthorised wands – some stolen from genuine wandmakers! It was all run by a nasty little trader named Pilf who had a shop in Knockturn Alley to sell the contraband. I'm convinced they were trying to radicalise toddlers to march into the Ministry and take over wizarding Britain completely! They must have believed that even Fudge wouldn't let loose his Heliopaths on small children – but I'm not so sure," he added in a mysteriously-lowered voice.
"Anyway, after our article was published, those ruffians were all closed down and the stock confiscated before they could harm the pure minds of our little ones. The villains' term in Azkaban must be breaking their hearts with remorse while they dwell on the consequences of their actions."
"Right... well... erm..." said Hermione, trying to remember if she'd used her trainer wand at all while with the Lovegoods.
"So remember, children," continued Mr Lovegood, as he poured the boiling water from the kettle into a teapot, "if you see anyone with an improper wand you should report them immediately before they are completely corrupted."
"Yes, Daddy," Luna said dutifully.
"Of course, we must help the little ones," smirked Hermione, "though there are only Muggles where I live." Inside she was wondering how on Earth she could bring Luna into her growing circle of friends all of whom, she hoped, would be learning basic magical concepts with trainer wands. That thought reminded her of another family, and a possible introduction.
"How about you, Luna, do you know of any youngsters near your home who might be in danger of misusing magic like those horrible children with trainer wands?"
"There are the Weasleys. Fred and George are very naughty – they might have been corrupted already," she said with a steady nod of firm disapproval, "I've never seen them with a wand but they'll be eleven next year so Ron and Ginny had better watch out because they're only our age. Ginny's my friend but I don't get to see her as often as I'd like."
"That's sad," said Hermione. "I wish I could meet more magical children too." She held her breath but she did not have to wait even one second for Mr Lovegood to take the bait.
"The Weasleys are a fine family and Arthur works for the Ministry. I can't see him allowing any of his children to possess a contaminated wand. I'll introduce you when we return if you wish it, Hermione?"
"That would be wonderful!" Hermione smiled. Mission accomplished!
The rest of the day was spent observing the surrounding area with omnioculars and plotting visible landmarks on their chart to orient themselves.
Hermione explained what she knew from the Darwin book. "The Snorkack gatherings have their favourite haunts they revisit for a year or two before moving on so I'm confident we might detect the reported herd in one of these these three directions," said Hermione, jabbing at the X's she'd marked on the map. "But we'll need to be patient – very patient."
"Don't worry, I'm used to keeping watch," said Xeno.
Hermione shook her head. "We'll be lucky to see them to begin with. Not much scent either, especially at these temperatures. No, we'll need to listen very quietly for a hoof on stone, a faint snort, or the sound of chewing. It will mean us keeping very quiet most of the time."
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Waiting for a Sign
A dense fog had settled in the next morning and, despite some fancy spells cast by Mr Lovegood to detect both warm and cold-blooded creatures, nothing other than a couple of hares and a scrawny goat were discovered within a mile of the campsite. The decision was taken to leave the rest of the morning and hope for a clearer afternoon before venturing forth, but as it turned out after lunch, there was precious little to choose between the two halves of the day, so they remained by the fire, listening and waiting.
Nevertheless, Farrimond had found his way in with a chatty note from Harry – even though it was less than two days since he'd spoken face-to-face with Hermione. Luna was very interested in what the Boy Who Lived had to say, and re-read the message several times until she practically wore out the parchment, and teatime was announced before she let it go. But though the message was out of her grasp, the memory of it was not.
"He's quite diligent with his studies isn't he?" she said thoughtfully. "All those hours of practice with his wand."
Hermione – who doubted that Harry had truly carried out a fraction of the training he'd claimed in his letter – cringed at Mr Lovegood's sudden frown. "Oh?" she said quickly, "has he got a wand now then? It must be his mum's he's borrowed I should think. Yes, that must be it. She probably lent it to him to try out a few safe spells."
"I'd like to meet him one day; he's important you know," continued Luna as if Hermione hadn't spoken at all.
Luna took a sip at her mug of hot water in which floated a rather small, insignificant turnip. "I mean, someone who can vanquish a dark wizard when they're still a baby would have enormous possibilities as a grownup, don't you think?" She jabbed viciously at her swede with a spoon and after the vegetable had released a few bubbles, it sank.
The wand of Mr Lovegood, which was embedded at an angle in the loose stones, gave a twitch much like a fishing rod responding to an inquisitive fish. Hermione halfheartedly watched Xeno spill his Gurdyroot as he dived down to decipher the movements and feel the soft vibrations with practised fingers. Well she knew that the Snorkacks' thick, hairy, enchanted coats would conceal them beyond most magic unless they were close enough to be heard chomping leaves anyway.
"Lemming! Well that was worth waiting for at any rate!" whispered Mr Lovegood, happily settling back in his canvas chair and blinking confusedly at his almost-empty mug.
Hermione wriggled her toes a little nearer the fire's warmth and considered that the passage of a suicidal rat half a mile away had not been worth the day's tedium, let alone the cold and damp that was beginning to seep into her bones. The temptation to wandlessly cast a warming charm was fighting caution within her. She'd give it another hour then visit the tent to hide the steamy, rosy glow that was visible as the spell was cast. But what about Luna? Was she cold? She gave no indication of it if she was. Hermione sighed out a long cloud of steam; she was used to all-round central heating, that was the difference.
"I think he's preparing for something," mused the other girl in her faraway, dreamy voice. "Perhaps there'll be more war. Ever since I was little I wanted to marry a mighty hero when I grow up. He'll be big and strong. The ground will shake at his approach. Enemies will flee sore afraid – yet not I. I will meet his gaze fearlessly and he will fall to his knees and adore me instantly."
Hermione barely suppressed laughing at the seven-year-old. She was good fun but how was she to include Luna within her circle of friends if the girl might inform her father about their wands? In a moment of alarm, Hermione feared her plans for togetherness would never work: herself with an adult intellect and Luna with that strange fuddled brilliance – yet she also recalled how, in her other life, she'd grown to gradually accept the strange girl for what she was, and not for what one was supposed to be.
Such brooding must have caused Hermione to display a range of emotions, for Luna said, "You're thinking again, aren't you? Are you doubting if the Crumple-horn is real? If Erasmus imagined it? Don't worry, Daddy says it's real."
"Oh, the beast is real alright," smiled Hermione.
Far too close to the end of the afternoon, the sky finally and grudgingly lightened in the direction of the valley. Yet still no colour relieved the grey day, and even later, when the veiled sun had finally descended below the treetops, its pallid ambience remained silvery, casting only vague, exaggerated shadows of branches onto the haze while here and there, a stone finch mistily silhouetted as large as a turkey, and the dark outline of a grubbing shrew nosed up as high as a kangaroo – much to Luna's amusement.
But the shadow-puppet entertainment was over in minutes, within another hour or so, darkness had put a starless lid on the camp, and the unenthusiastic mood was only eased by the dancing flames around which the explorers huddled.
In these first days of August, and close by peaks of legend, there occurred many similar queer pre-twilights during which Hermione's primeval instincts imagined mythical creatures awakening, greedy for their share of the twenty-four hours: hobgoblins, ogres, grinning skeletal yeti and other nightmarish creatures of the mind all crept and creeped through her imagination. What the Lovegoods contemplated, she could not tell. Xeno sat quietly gazing, else absently stirring the fire with an extended, unreaching forefinger, while Luna might hum or softly sing to herself, as if content whatever her surroundings.
"And we only watch and wait?" murmured Xeno occasionally, which often startled Hermione despite the softness of his voice.
"They will come to us," she always answered, with a cryptic addition, "Only then does the real search begin."
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Eaves Drop
"Harry, does Aunt Hestia want these pulling up, do you know?" Neville gazed at the clumps of trailing blooms. "I think it's spiny amaranth but some call it pigweed and chuck it out. Watch your fingers on the thorns – see?"
"Best to leave it alone if we're not sure," replied Harry. "What about these shield-shaped leaves?"
"Knotweed – they'll need a spell to properly get rid of them. We can wear ourselves out tugging them up all day but they just come back."
Harry examined his sore, stained palms dolefully then rubbed his hands down his jeans. "Come on, let's have a rest. I'll show you my poop deck where I watch for pirates and sea monsters and that."
Neville didn't need much persuading. The sun beautifully illumined the colours of the court garden at Grimmauld Place – and yes, it was a pleasure to see – but over an hour of weeding was enough for any young boy, especially when there were buccaneers to be fought.
The outbuilding next to the house had an extensive lean-to abutting it which was not too high to climb and its tiles did not slope very steeply. "Hand me up the grog and ship's biscuits, Mister Bos'n," Harry called down.
"Aye, aye, Cap'n." From his stance on a wobbly-lidded rain butt, Neville swung up the bag of plundered pumpkin juice and chocolate cookies to Harry's waiting grasp, then he struggled up by the side of his friend.
"Look you can see Saint Terence spire on the port bow," said Harry, pointing. He twisted for a while with a tight cork before he could successfully swallow a big mouthful of juice. He gave out a long happy sigh after. "And on a good day up in the crow's nest you can even see the great white whale breachin' on top of Saint Paul's – look I'll show you."
Harry stood his bottle in the gutter then, hands on the adjacent outhouse wall, he sidestepped up to the highest part of the lean-to roof.
"Do you really think we ought to?" said Neville rather nervously. "It looks awfully high and steep."
"If we crawl up to the middle its safe and you can get the best view." He hoisted himself up but his friend hung back.
"Come on, Neville," encouraged Harry, then added with a sly grin, "Look, Hermione's out fighting dangerous beasts on the other side of the world. She'd have leapt up here like a hot cat by now – probably reading a book at the same time."
That did it. With a fumble and a grumble, Neville wriggled up onto the outhouse. Harry was already straddling the top of the roof and galloping his 'steed' towards the house. Neville followed more shakily like an apprehensive inchworm.
When Harry reached the back wall of the main house, he used it to steady himself as he rose to a standing position and dramatically pointed south. "Thar she blows!"
But as he'd swung up his arm he became overbalanced. He fingered uselessly at the bricks then stumbled clumsily to fall on his backside. With nothing to grip, he slid in fits and starts lower and lower down the acutely-sloping tiles towards the edge.
"Hang on, Harry!" cried Neville, jumping up and running along the ridge of the roof to where he squirmed as far as he could on his belly and reached for Harry's outstretched hand.
Too late. With a yelp, Harry skidded down another body length then stopped, his feet protruding beyond the gutter and his hands trying to flat-grip the roof tiles. Open-mouthed, Neville could only watch and wait as his friend slid away over the...
A puzzled look crossed Harry's face as he wiggled his feet and stared back up at Neville. "It's solid below." He began to ease himself slowly down.
"Don't, Harry!"
"It's okay. It's stone. Top of a window I think. No, wait... wall trim jutting out all the way along. It's a petrified sea serpent, Mister Bos'n, but I daresay I can skip along its spine – I've walked many a narrower plank a'fore this!"
"Harry!"
"Get along with ye, Master Neville. Splice the mainbrace. I'll join you on the fo'c's'le a'fore six bells unless the beast awakes!"
"I thought that was the poop deck two minutes ago..." muttered Neville, but as he worked back along the ridge, a glance behind showed him that his friend wasn't going anywhere.
"Harry? ... Cap'n?"
Harry waved him on. He had his head on one side as if listening. From the open window below came the faint sound of voices.
"But she's so strange." Hestia's hesitant voice. "Almost as if she's... deranged."
Sirius replied, "That's what worries me too. But it's extra protection for Harry – she promised that."
"So... she'll die? You're certain?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so – there's no other way out of it."
There was a long pause during which a cloud drifted past the sun, casting a moving shadow through the garden. Harry shuddered.
"When then?"
"Hogwarts, the first year when Harry starts. It's the only opportunity, and Dumbledore will be there to make sure everything goes according to plan."
Harry strained to hear more but only the distant hum of traffic and the chatter of birds was to be heard. He edged his way to the end of the wall where the outhouse roof began. He was startled by Neville leaning out around the corner with an outstretched arm.
"Grab my hand, Harry!" cried Neville. "I'll guide you."
The assistance wasn't critical but it did help and Harry muttered his breathless thanks, his mind still racing at the conversation he had overheard.
"What is it, Harry?"
"It's... Hermione..."
"What about her?"
Harry retrieved his pumpkin juice bottle while he fretted over the unthinkable words he had overheard. "Nothing. Just worried about her."
"She'll be fine! You said yourself she can battle monsters!"
"Yeah – yeah, you're right. Brave as a Gryffindor and twice as–" Harry glanced up at the higher roof, then looked thoughtfully at Neville. He hadn't forgotten the service of his most senior officer.
"What?" said Neville.
"All hands on deck, Mister Bos'n! There's a ceremony to perform!"
Neville shouted as he climbed down after Harry who was already scampering down the garden, "What ceremony?"
But Harry was selecting the neatest, medal-sized, Knotweed leaf he could find, and a spine from the amaranth which he used to pin it to Neville's chest.
"As commander of the good ship Black Bones, it is my duty, nay my honour, to award you, Bos'n Neville Longbottom, for heroic valour in sprinting recklessly and without thought for self across the main spar during a heavy gale to rescue your captain from falling to his certain death at the hands of a deadly sea serpent, this, the Empire's highest award, and to promote your good self to the office of First Mate. I salute you, sir."
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Second Sight
By the end of the Lovegood expedition's second week, the mists enshrouding the mountains had mostly cleared, and several forays had been made to the area around the camp in search of spoor. A single hoofprint of the right type encouraged Hermione, even though she knew it was old, for it confirmed she was in the correct region learnt from an excursion in her former life. She reassured Mr Lovegood, spirits were raised, and on return to the campsite, the man adjusted the direction of his angled wand more precisely.
Meanwhile, with more of a view now visible, and a reasonable light from the west, Luna had pulled out her sketchbook and black pencils then quickly shaded in a few impressions of the stunty, disfigured trees. Although no more than a few blocked-in lines, she had, with a wave of her father's spare wand, created a shimmering motion of leaves that quite impressed Hermione.
"So, you learnt to do that from your mum?"
"Yes, she's done hundreds of magical illustrations for Daddy."
"We were together at Hogwarts, Pandora and I," explained Xeno, as he leaned back in his seat with a faraway smile in his eyes. "Childhood sweethearts from an early age. Meetings were quite an adventure. I was downstairs in Hufflepuff you see; Pandora was always the clever one in the top tower."
"I want to be in Ravenclaw like Mummy when I go to Hogwarts," declared Luna, with a final flourish to complete her current handiwork. "We'll be together, you and I," she added with a smile, which startled Hermione who had not considered the possibility of any house other than Gryffindor. What if Luna was correct? Hermione watched her turn to a fresh page and look about for a new landscape. Luna finally decided on a snowy summit to her right.
In that way, four days later, the little blonde girl accidentally made a discovery which startled Hermione when she viewed it later. This particular day had been a misty one again, and Luna had already captured the shadowy outline of a magnified pigeon with her pencil, as well as a few other blurry shapes that fluttered or shifted or hopped according to how she cast her mother's bewitchment upon the page.
"What's that huge shadow? Whatever's that!" declared Hermione when she examined the finished work.
"A wild sheep – it only showed for a moment in front of that dead bush so I had to hurry."
"It's not, you know," Hermione said softly, and she gazed out through the woodland as the sky was darkening, and the mist thickening, and a cautious note of change was brought with it too. "When did you draw that?"
"Oh, a couple of hours ago. They're only for fun – and to guide Mummy when we get home."
"Point me. Where, Luna? Where did you see it?"
Xeno's interest had become aroused by Hermione's tone, and he stood up as his daughter waved her finger down through the trees to the left.
"Wait here." Hermione ran down the slope, becoming immaterial as she gained distance into the thin mist, but avoiding clipping too much into the trees.
"What are you doing! Come back here!" shouted Mr Lovegood, then added to his daughter, "What is she doing?"
"I think she wanted to look at my sheep but it's gone."
A little further and Hermione was invisible, ghosting rapidly forward through rocks and rises before the light failed. The tracks were unmistakable – she'd studied the imprints of Snorkacks intensively and knew them so well. A couple of sniffs confirmed her suspicions – she could smell their distinctive magical essence. "Drat!" she whispered to herself. If only it wasn't getting so late!
She made her way back to the campsite on foot for the last half, heading for the approaching wand lights which had just appeared. "Ho!" she called softly.
"Ho, yourself, young lady! What d'you mean by running off? I promised your parents I'd look out for you."
"Please douse your light, Mr Lovegood, Luna. They've gone further down now but they won't like to glimpse anything unusual."
The lights stopped moving. Then disappeared. "Who won't?" said Mr Lovegood, then he added more softly as she drew nearer, "What won't?" The tone of Xeno's voice made it clear he already knew. So did his expression as his features came into Hermione's view.
She said, "At least three or four Snorkacks passed by further down. That was not an enlarged sheep you drew, Luna – nor was that a branch beyond its head. The light wasn't right for exaggerating their size. The Snorkack really is that large – bigger than a bison and five times more shaggy."
Back at the camp, Xeno examined Luna's drawing. "Are you sure? How in Merlin's name can you tell anything from that shapeless impression? Luna, while it's fresh in your mind, fetch another pad and try to remember any more detail."
Luna raced happily off to the tent but Hermione shook her head. "It's not so much the shape but the movement. Luna has exactly captured the back and forth lunge and sway of a Snorkack – it's like no other large quadruped."
"You've seen moving images before? How could you have? Erasmus Darwin was a fine wizard but his wife was a Muggle as was his grandson, Charles. His books were non-magical and published by Muggles. I never even heard of the title your father quoted in his letter."
"The volume I borrowed had been the personal copy of Erasmus with illustrations by Fuseli, but someone had charmed the images in that one book – almost certainly Erasmus himself or someone under his supervision. It was another member of the Darwin family who, reluctantly, loaned me the unpublished edition from their vaults; it has always been an embarrassment to them. The image of the Common Snorkack was finely-drawn and its movements closely resemble that you see before you in Luna's sketchpad."
Hermione pulled out her own notepad and began thumbing through it, but she didn't need any written description because she could so clearly visualise the motion. "Here... the muscle groups flow forward at the shoulders as the creature leans its weight into–"
"What was that? On that earlier page?"
Hermione looked up at Mr Lovegood's expression. "They're just my scribblings."
"A column of dates. I saw a list of–" He pulled the book away from Hermione.
"Hey! They're my personal notes!"
But Mr Lovegood had found what he was looking for and said excitedly, "These dates – they're sightings aren't they? But you said..."
Hermione sighed and tried to pluck the notepad back. "It's nothing important."
Xeno swung away with the book. "Luna!" – she was just emerging from the tent – "What is significant about these dates?"
Inwardly, Hermione groaned. Mr Lovegood had been too clever for his own good.
Luna spent no more than half a minute looking at the list. "I can't see anything special about the dates but the spacings between them are all multiples of seven – oh, 1771 and 1778 were about when Mr Darwin was alive." She tilted her head as if working something out. "And this year, 1988, is also another that would fit that spacing."
"A seven-year cycle! What does it mean?" Mr Lovegood was deep in thought, almost forgetting that Hermione was there – then he remembered her. "These are not just common Snorkack sightings are they!"
"They can't be sightings, Daddy," said Luna, as she handed the book back to her father. "Look, 2058 hasn't happened yet."
The eyes of Mr Lovegood widened for several seconds but then something strange happened as Hermione looked deeply into them. "That's right," he said dazedly, "they can't be sightings." The book fell from his limp grasp and he stumbled away to fill a saucepan with water.
"Sorry, Luna," said Hermione, as she retrieved the notebook, "but it's too dangerous for you to know."
"You're going to use the Imperious curse on me too, aren't you?" Luna said quite mournfully.
Hermione gasped, shaking her head. How much had Luna realised? "No, Luna," she began as gently as she could, "that was just a little forgetfulness and a tiny suggestion; your dad had no right to take my notes nor to show them to you."
"He gets excited sometimes." Luna sighed. "Might I ask one thing first? Oh, and one request?"
"You won't remember the answer or even the question."
"But this me will know now, won't I?"
Hermione nodded. "For a few moments."
"Make the suggestion something nice, please," Luna said. Then, more solemnly, she asked her question. "It's not just Snorkacks and me you're here for is it?"
"No, Luna, it's not just Snorkacks – but I am definitely here for you as well."
Luna stared at her friend then her face brightened. "A list of numbered Christmas presents! How lovely!" She skipped away to join her father. "It was only a list of Christmas gifts after all, Daddy! Just think! Planning ahead so far!"
"That's right," murmured Xeno with his happy smile of realisation reflected in the pan. "Gifts... for Christmas! Let me show you how to peel potatoes with a new spell, Luna, it's safer than knives any day, and more fun too – you can make them dance."
Luna's laughter chimed musically around the hillside but Hermione was saddened. What have I become? Manipulating friends when it suits me? Controlling their beliefs and memories? Her reason understood the necessity, but her heart would not listen.
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—oOo—
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Author's Notes
I've just seen Dan Radcliffe's first audition footage on Youtube. He looks about ten years old and so polite and full of life, and so brave and eager to please I couldn't help but think that's closer to how I see Harry Potter in this chapter at age eight. :)
Thanks to everyone for comments and reviews. These are most welcome and very encouraging. Let me know of any weaknesses or faults – I'm always trying to improve my writing so feedback is really useful. :)
– Hippothestrowl
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