.
So far... The reborn Hermione befriended Harry and Luna at a much younger age and even though Voldemort is no more, she has started to bring other dark wizards to her own form of justice – Alecto Carrow was the first. Christmas 1988 is being spent at the Weasleys where Ron and Ginny have agreed to be friends too. Now read on...
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Chapter 20
Coming Together
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Being Shown How To Fly
Soon after the midday Christmas feast, the youngsters spilled out quickly into the yard to escape having to wash dishes. The large rubber ring that Harry had received from Luna made a perfect Frisbee target and Snitching practice as it endlessly spun through the air and bounced back off any obstacles. Bill and Charlie paired off with one each of the twins for an impromptu game of two-a-side Quidditch with the younger children cheering them on. Luna had found a bugle from somewhere and was blasting a high note from it whenever she thought anything important happened.
"What d'you think, Harry?" cried Ron. "Reckon you'll try for the house team when we're at Hogwarts?"
"Dad takes me to matches sometimes but I can't play myself yet. Hermione lets me ride her broom but it won't fly up much."
Hermione said, "It's only a youngster's broomstick, Ron. I'm rubbish on a real one." Seeing Ron's funny expression, she added, "I expect I will be anyway."
Ginny gave Harry a disappointed look and for some reason he felt rather awkward that he'd only ever flown on a kiddie's toy broom before. "Oh, I only fly it for a laugh," he said red-faced, but casually examining his fingernails, "out of curiosity to see how much different it was to a grownup one." Luna found a low, fat tone on her bugle and let it rip.
"Why not try?" Ron gestured towards the shed. "All of you."
"There won't be enough brooms to go round – I expect," Hermione again added quickly.
"Yeah, there's Mum and Dad's, mine, and Percy's is hardly used. Come on."
"What about Ginny?"
"What about her?" said Ron, looking at his tiny sister who, as usual, had been listening quietly.
"Ginny's a Weasley," said Hermione. "She'll take to it naturally and be better than me any day of the week. I'm a Granger. I fall off toy bikes even with stabilisers."
Ron shrugged. "Want to have a little go round the bushes, Gin? No need to be scared. I'll fly at your side so you can hang on to my shoulder."
This should be good, thought Hermione.
The five of them moved further down the garden. Luna lent Hermione her bugle while she went dreamily off on a broom to tour around the perimeter, gazing at trees from a new angle.
Harry swung a leg over his broom and shot away faster than he'd expected, but he clung on gamely, and quickly began to get the feel of the new ride.
Ron mounted his own broom after hovering it beside Ginny on hers. "Slow n' low then, Gin, and grab my arm – you'll be fine."
The only answer was a strong waft of air that rocked and swayed his broomstick. When he looked, she was gone, but Hermione was staring innocently upwards. He followed her gaze. High above, a distant red-haired speck was arcing away towards Harry. As it approached him, the red blur flung itself into a corkscrew that spiralled around Harry, surged ahead over the farthest treetops then disappeared for several seconds. Ron stared dumbfounded.
When Ginny reappeared she was performing side-slews and squealing with joy. The little girl raced back towards Ron and braked hard in mid-air. "Aren't you coming?" As the broom rocketed skyward once more, Minnie was clinging to the front of her broomstick, eyes shut tight, the ragdoll's stringy hair whipping behind her in the slipstream.
"Ginny picks things up quickly, doesn't she?" smirked Hermione, as she raised the bugle to her lips.
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Secrets and Proof
On the day after Christmas there was time early in the morning for the five children to get together in Ginny's room. Mr Weasley had enlarged the space the night before and added beds for Hermione and Luna; Harry and Ron joined them for a 'serious talk' as Luna earnestly defined it. The wintry sky was still dark and the adults were sleeping off a surfeit of Christmas wine. A single candle burned in a sconce on one wall with the remaining shadows adding to the sense of mystery and drama. Little Ginny yawned, her eyes closing sleepily after so much conversation during her normal dream time.
"So, we're agreed?" whispered Hermione. "We all need to start learning magic before Hogwarts so when we're older we can protect each other from the dark arts?"
"And secrecy is very important," added Luna, in a serious tone. "Nobody must know except people Hermione says we can trust."
"Tell me again what you mean by 'dark arts'?" said Ron. "You mean bad magic?"
"Yes. There's a class at Hogwarts but it depends on the teacher how good it might be."
"And you've... seen this? What, in a dream?" Ron sounded sceptical. Hermione's bed, on which Ron was squatted beside Luna, creaked as he fidgeted to a more comfortable listening position.
"Seen it... ... ..." Harry, who was sprawled out in his pyjamas on Luna's bed, began grandly, but though he still proudly waved one arm about, his voice dwindled to an incoherent mumble.
"What?" snorted Ron, exchanging glances with Ginny and Luna. "We couldn't hear what you said."
With a delicate hand movement, Hermione cast an Imperturbable Charm on the door then said, "My greatest secrets are protected by a powerful spell I modified and named the Fidelia charm, so they can't be overheard or given away accidentally. Only I can tell you. What Harry tried to say was, 'Not only have I already seen the Dark Arts being taught at Hogwarts, I was taught it and even taught it my–"
"You've learned advanced magic?" Ron frowned, then said hesitantly, "Look, don't take this the wrong way but, how can we erm... know you've... uuh?"
Hermione, seated beside Ginny on her bed, just managed to avoid rolling her eyes. Instead, she nodded and said, "You're right to be cautious, Ron. That's good. Uumm..."
Harry sighed. "Show them, Hermione."
"Well... firstly, you must all understand that this is one big secret only we few will know," she said. "When we get to Hogwarts we'll include other kids in our circle of friendship but even they won't be told this. Understood?"
Nods and murmurs of assent in various measures of eagerness, greeted her. Nothing will bring children closer together than the sharing of a big secret – the more important the better.
"Right then."
Ginny noticed first. Hugging her pillow she felt the springs in the bed relax as Hermione's weight lifted from it – except that Hermione remained exactly where she was, sitting on the bed. Only when they began to see more of Gwenog Jones, the Captain of the Holyhead Harpies, on the poster on the wall behind Hermione, and into which the girl was sinking backwards, did understanding begin to dawn on all of them.
Ron's shout was muted but it was obvious what he had silently voiced. "You're a ghost?"
Ginny's squeak too was unheard. Hermione had anticipated it – and more – with a muffling spell.
"I'm not a ghost but I did die," said Hermione's face which was now a silvery wisp looking down from within the ceiling. She floated lower to stand a few inches above, then below, the carpet, became completely invisible for a few moments, then reappeared sitting on Ginny's bed again with the mattress sagging under her weight.
"Whoooaaaa!" murmured Ron, finding his voice return but keeping his exclamation soft.
"That's handy," Luna said thoughtfully.
Ginny's curiosity overcame her nerves enough for her to prod at Hermione's arm to see if she was solid. Her eyes were now wide open in wonder.
Harry, of course was grinning as he watched all their expressions. "And that's not all! Tell them something that's going to happen, Hermione!"
"Uumm... well, let's see... the Berlin Wall will be opened up next year."
"The what?" said Ron.
"Berlin has a wall?" said Luna.
"Bad example," said Hermione, struggling to remember anything unusual that might happen in the magical world. "Erm... Paul Ingleton – you've heard of him, I trust?"
Ginny raised her hand, then meekly lowered it again.
Ron said, "That high-up Ministry official who's resigning? Worked for Fudge? Yeah, Dad reckons it was a fix up. Been going on about it, ain't he, Ginny?"
She nodded her head which she'd snuggled deeper into her pillow.
"Well, I know who's replacing him," said Hermione.
"You can't," Ron said flatly. "Nobody does except Fudge, and he's keeping it quiet until the New Year."
"It'll be Dolores Umbridge, you'll see," said Hermione. "Nasty toad-faced woman. Almost certainly she was the one who framed Ingleton – don't!" she added, seeing Luna looking round for her notepad.
"But shouldn't we do something?" said Luna. "Isn't it dark arts?"
"And how will we explain that we know, let alone prove it?" said Hermione. "We're just kids. Our task is to prepare ourselves for the future. We can't really help Mr Ingleton now."
"Well at least Mr Gair tries!" pouted Luna. She got up and went to stare out of the window. The moon was nearly full but mostly clouded over, as was Luna's reflection.
Hermione stared. "What? What did you say?"
Luna did not answer.
"You've heard of Mr Gair? Jop Gair?" persisted Hermione.
"Daddy publishes a newspaper," Luna reminded her, as she turned around. "Mr Gair knows lots that happen at the Ministry, so Daddy keeps in touch with him. I hope he finds out the truth."
Hermione's eyes bulged. "I hope he doesn't get himself killed first! Umbridge is power-hungry and pure evil. She set Dementors on Harry that would have taken his soul if Harry wasn't so powerful! Then she–" Hermione stopped. Everyone was looking at her in amazement, including Harry.
"What I meant," she added hesitantly, "was what Umbridge would do if things weren't different now. If Gair found any evidence and she heard of it then he'd better watch out, is what I'm saying."
"I fought a Dementor?" said Harry, wonderingly.
"Harry, you drove off a hundred Dementors to save Sirius! He wasn't even your father then."
"No. ... Way!" said Ron, with a kind of stupefied expression on his face. "Erm... what's a Dementor? I think Dad's mentioned them once or twice but he wouldn't tell us what they–"
"They are the foul creatures that guard Azkaban."
Ron gasped.
"They draw all happiness out of you until only your worst memories remain which they then feed off. They are powerful, overwhelming, and cannot be destroyed."
Ginny began whimpering. "They... w-won't come here will they?"
Hermione put an arm around the girl. "No, Ginny, they have no reason to come here."
"And Harry can make them go away?"
"Not yet." Hermione shook her head. "But your dad can, Ginny. You all will be able to one day. Like so..." With a thrust of her arm, a sleek silvery-blue otter sped out from her fingertips and swam around the room several times before fading.
"Wow!" said Harry. "Is that what I did when I saved Dad?"
"Yes, it's a Patronus. Amongst other things, it chases away Dementors. But yours will be a stag like your father's – James, I mean. Ron, yours is a dog. Ginny, you'll cast a horse Patronus one day so you needn't worry about any Dementors. Luna, do you want to know what yours is? It may help you save lives one day."
"Yet you won't help poor Mr Ingleton?" Luna said sadly.
Hermione winced. "Umbridge is smart. The chances of finding any evidence will be zero. Even if anyone did, with Fudge's support, it would be passed off as a mistake, an accident – or something minor. Likely she's done worse things but I can't be sure. Best to wait until–"
"Until she kills someone." Luna's tone was quite upset. She folded her arms and the tiny girl might have looked very fierce if not for her pink jimjams and fluffy bunny slippers.
"Well, no, but..." Hermione wondered how she could explain the ways of the world to this child.
But it was Luna that clarified the debate. "Suppose it was your father instead of Mr Ingleton?"
The harsh example caught Hermione's attention and she frowned. "Very well, I'll look into it but..."
With that slight encouragement, Luna ran forward and squeezed onto Ginny's bed on Hermione's other side. "You've shown us you can fly through walls and be invisible! If anyone can find evidence to help poor Mr Ingleton, then it's you, Hermione, it's you!"
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The Shakes
The first weeks of the following year were a busy time for Hermione. Not only did she spend much time analysing and cataloguing the information and names in Alecto Carrow's confession for future reference, the dark witch had let slip some additional intelligence without knowing. While offering Hermione a bribe, the address to which Carrow wished to be taken was uppermost in her mind and read as easily by the young girl as body language.
Up in the spare bedroom that she called headquarters, Hermione gazed at the entry in her logbook and considered whether to assign Aculus to the task. The work really required an observer to look for activity patterns and make detailed records – a twenty-four-hour-a-day stakeout.
Hermione closed the book, stood up, scribbled a note for her mother, then Disapparated to contemplate the problem at its source.
And so, for the tenth time in as many days, Hermione Apparated invisibly onto a low rooftop and moved cautiously to the edge. Though the weather had been dull in Elmbridge, it had remained dry. In central London however, an unexpected drizzle of rain made her shudder, so she cast warming and repelling charms which also helped her grip on the slippery slates. She peered down into the near-empty street.
An old tradesman was pushing a cart of wares badly covered by torn canvas, pointlessly reciting from a lifetime of habit, "Mind yer backs. ... Watch yerself now!"
The location she was observing was a shop at the far end of Knockturn Alley – and quite a smart one for that grubby-minded market, being an exclusive interior decorator serving the grand houses. Hermione had determined that most trade was carried out by Floo orders. Whenever she'd walked by in the alley, it appeared that the front shop contained nothing more than a polished timber floor and a smart counter. It had been frustrating work because the shop had been so easy to search and confirm the premises were void of any obvious connection with dark witchery, so all that remained was to keep watch invisibly for an hour whenever Hermione could spare the time.
But time was not to be spared for there was another target pressing for her attention: Umbridge! As soon as her brief rooftop vigil was ended she Disapparated to the Ministry.
Despite her efforts, Hermione had found nothing that linked the Undersecretary with Ingleton. She'd sifted through the woman's offices, both at the Ministry and her study at home. True, Hermione's friends were very impressed when the new Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic was indeed declared to be Umbridge, but Luna's regard had diminished again after her father reported that he'd observed Paul Ingleton using a six-inch ruler in the Department of Magical Transportation: sorting Broomstick Manufacturing Regulation scrolls in order of length. Pandora and Luna both persuaded Xeno not to publish this humiliation.
And finally, dragging Umbridge away for interrogation was not an option for the noble Gryffindor until there was clear implication in a more serious crime than spreading rumours.
Although Luna hugged her cheerfully enough when they met at the start of February in the Grangers' home, Hermione sensed her expectation – and her confusion and dissatisfaction when nothing was mentioned about 'Poor Mr Ingleton'. In like manner, Hermione was frustrated that Luna did not raise the important matter of Beauxbatons. Fortunately, Harry arrived soon after Luna and helped to make both the girls forgetful of their preoccupations for the time being.
Luna looked thoughtfully at her two friends. "Ginny asked me when are you visiting them again? But Ron said Harry should come less often. So I asked him would it be alright if I come more oftener to visit Ginny and Harry comes with me less oftener than me coming more so–"
"What!" said Hermione. A splosh of milk fell onto the kitchen work surface where she was preparing refreshments for them all.
"Only because of his Mum," said Luna, as she bent down to examine the Grangers' washing machine which was whirring away quietly in its final spin cycle. "Muggle television is very funny. Daddy says blurry photographs make your eyes go funny and fuzzes up people's brains almost as badly as Wrackspurts do."
"A television is not simply a string of moving photos, Luna, and that's not a TV anyway," explained Hermione. "Mrs Weasley will simply have to learn that Harry is not affiliated with dark wizards."
"But slowly perhaps? I mean, it's not every day your uncle gets torn apart by wild horses, is it? Big things take time to become little. Are you sure this isn't a television? It's awfully like the one I saw at Mrs Dunston's. She says she swears by it but I listened for a long time and I never heard her." Luna was leaning over sideways so steeply to squint at the laundry flashing around that her face became puffy and flushed.
Harry grinned and Hermione shook her head, reminding herself that Luna was not quite yet eight years old and probably more dippy at times than she'd ever known her before. "It washes clothes Luna. You put dirty clothes in then later take them out all nice and clean. ... I suppose it wouldn't hurt for Harry to miss every other visit for a few months until Mrs Weasley has got over her loss."
"But then why do they call it a television, I wonder?" Luna stood up suddenly and stumbled sideways a couple of steps. Cross-eyed, she blinked a few times to clear her sight. "Daddy was right. I think that must be when Mrs Turner swears. Is the room really turning? It's not is it. The whirls have gotten inside my head, I think."
"Luna, you're just dizzy." Hermione could not help but wonder what the French would make of the quirky blonde girl. Her hair is straightened out in a tidier fashion but her thinking is just as straggly. Hermione poured out the drinks then tipped some chocolate cookies out onto a plate. The others joined her at the breakfast bar. She must ask Luna outright.
"Luna..."
"I'm not having my birthday this month," Luna said abruptly, "but it's the anticipation that matters."
"You can't be a leap baby, Luna!" sighed Hermione. "You must have been born in... 1981. And anyway, it's not a leap year this year either!"
"I know, it's so unfair. There was a mix up. I don't mind really. You're not saying much, Harry. What is my Patronus, Hermione?"
Harry put down his banana milk shake and opened his mouth to speak.
"You've got milk foam on your upper lip, Harry," said Hermione. "It's the mad March hare, Luna."
Harry wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.
"That explains it then," said Luna, nodding her head wisely. "It all makes sense now."
Hermione held back a groan just as the washer finished and juddered to a halt.
"Oh, what a pity," said Luna, "and it was trying so hard."
"Luna..." Hermione tried again.
"You want to ask me about France, I can tell." Luna sounded as if she had finally accepted the inevitable question.
Hermione nodded.
"It's a secret," said Luna.
"Then why tell me in the–!" blurted Hermione, stopping herself with a glance at Harry.
"Oh, my going to Beauxbatons isn't the secret."
What does that mean? Was there something more? "But..."
Harry was now staring at Luna in growing disbelief. "How can we, Luna?" he said. "We have to all go to Hogwarts, don't we?" As ever, he turned to Hermione. "Don't we?" He turned back to Luna. "We're best friends."
Hermione said, "It's Luna's choice."
"Oh, and I was looking forward to Hogwarts," said Harry, mournfully. "How will we all get to France? In a boat?"
"Just Luna will... might go, Harry," Hermione said softly.
"But... without us, you mean?" His head twisted back to Luna again. "But we're friends!" His eyes pleaded with her. "Is it about secrets? We could tell you more if that's what it's about, couldn't we, Hermione? We have to be friends, we just have to!"
Luna's eyes were bright with an unknown anguish. "Sometimes, we can't tell each other everything – can we, Hermione? Like if you were close to someone, or a pet – any creature really, but nobody must know." She stared meaningfully at Hermione.
Is she putting guilt on me for not telling her why I approached the Snorkack? Hermione's was shaking with emotion when she finally answered. "You're right, Luna. There may be good reasons why we all have to keep some secrets from our friends, even though we don't want to. Let it so be."
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Tease Out
A routine evolved naturally through the following months. Harry reported that the less that Hermione attended his lessons with Madam Gawtley then the more often Neville turned up and gained in knowledge of magic as well as becoming closer to Harry. His exchanges, whether by owl or face-to-face, were always well-rehearsed and discreet:
"You're not stuck on your own again this Thursday, are you, Harry?" – "No, Hermione's coming." – "Ah, good, because Gran wants me to help sort some papers."
In a similar way, with Harry making less frequent visits to The Burrow, Hermione and Luna were both welcomed increasingly by Mrs Weasley because Ron and Ginny benefited from their companionship. Ron also regularly met with Harry at the Grangers whereas Ginny tended to be more of a stay-at-home so Luna kept her company there with Hermione slightly less often and Harry occasionally.
Hermione, sitting alone at her desk in the spare bedroom, pulled a face and flung up her arms. The situation was nowhere near as perfect as she'd hoped. Still, there was plenty of time, and, of course, their eventual attendance at Hogwarts would change everything – assuming Luna did not go to Beauxbatons. And if she did, Hermione was determined to keep in touch with her somehow.
"We're NOT losing Luna!"
The young-old witch nodded resolutely to herself as she consulted her log book. The six former friends were gradually coming together again and so long as they were all getting a head start with their magic, she'd accepted that the full union might take longer than she'd expected.
After turning a few pages, she frowned at the accumulation of tasks that required her to visit Hogwarts; she might have to spend days there. Easter was approaching but many students would stay at the school. Hermione rubbed her nose thoughtfully. None of the children and very few staff remained during the summer holidays. That was it then. She entered a reminder early in July and closed the book just as there was a tap on the window – a delivery owl with the morning's Daily Prophet. Hermione was now keeping a more careful track of events in the magical community.
Much of the news was 'Umbridge this' and 'Umbridge that' – clearly promoting the new Undersecretary's image in return for a little financial incentive. There'd been another break-in at Diagon Alley with Garrick Ollivander blaming 'that Pilf!' but the most worrying news was Jop Gair had successfully demanded an official inquiry into Ingleton's forced resignation. Even more interesting was that it had been seconded by... Bartemius Crouch Sr!
"You fool, Jop!"
Letting the newspaper flop down onto the desk, Hermione leaned back in her chair to ponder the situation. Crouch, she knew, still had some clout at the Ministry and this wasn't a full Ministerial or Wizengamot inquiry. Nevertheless, Hermione was certain there was no evidence to be found, so Jop was taking an awful risk for nothing. A strong twinge of conscience caused her to nibble at her lower lip.
"Don't get on the wrong side of that foul toad!" the little girl softly bemoaned to herself. If only she'd not messed up the formation of the League, she might have advised Jop. What if–
"Hermione!" her mother called up the stairs, "Harry and Luna are here."
"Today?"
There was a moment's pause. "No, they're in the middle of next week! Of course today. How else can they be here right now?"
Hermione sighed. "Just a minute then!"
How had Jop got Barty's support? Hermione tried to recall her woozy memory of that breakup when the newly-formed Cathesis League had gone its separate ways in a rage. No, wait. Mike had told them all to go to hell – or something like that – but he'd spoken in the heat of the moment. His anger was really directed at herself. As for Crouch... well, he might feel embarrassed at being duped but other than that, he'd already softened his attitude to Jop. And Jop was a skillful petitioner; he might have turned Crouch. She rose to her feet feeling very whoozy. They both might be in danger if–
"Hermione!" her mother called up the stairs again, "Harry and Luna are here."
I heard you the first time! thought Hermione, but a weakness befuddled Hermione for a moment, and finding herself sitting down again with the Daily Prophet back in her hands, she held back the intended sarcastic response. Instead, with a puzzled frown, she said tentatively, "Today?"
There was a moment's pause. "No, they're in the middle of next week! Of course today. How else can they be here right now?"
Hermione groaned. She was feeling rather faint. "Just a minute then!"
It's happened again! déjà vu! How am I supposed to make sense of this? And why does it weaken me magically?
She let the newspaper fall back on the desktop. "And stay down this time!"
What am I going to do?
A whisper from nearby made her jump into a stance with her wand weakly pointing at the sound. "Aaagh! Don't do that, Harry! I almost cursed you!"
Harry and Luna were stood in the doorway smiling at her. Luna rushed forward and smothered her in a hug. "Thank you. Thank you. I knew it was you behind Mr Gair all along letting him take the credit!"
"No, no, Luna, I'm only just reading it myself."
"We're going for tea and ice cream with our bus passes! Coming?" cried Harry. "Mum's out shopping – she'll meet us outside the Leaky."
"Erm... in March?" Hermione shivered and glanced at her watch. It was still only nine thirty, and her magic was only at half-strength. She'd need a few minutes to recover.
Luna waved her arms excitedly as she ran back to Harry. "Baked Nebraska and warming charms."
"Don't you mean...? Sure, why not." She put away her wand into its pocket, then joined the others at the door.
"And we can thank Adam while we're there," Luna said in a dreamy kind of way.
Hermione froze. "Who?"
"The one who gave us the bus passes, of course!"
"Oh, right... that Adam. Erm..." Hermione tried to remember what she'd said on Christmas day.
Luna seemed to read her mind. "the big gardening centre in London?" she prompted. Was that a mischievous glint in her eye?
"Oh, yes, well..."
"Of course," continued Luna, "if it's all a misunderstanding..."
"Uuh, no, no, no misunderstanding, erm..." Hermione scrabbled in her pockets trying to remember where she'd put the advert page she'd ripped out of the Daily Prophet last year. "Only... thing is... I'm not sure where I put the address."
"Aha..."
Hermione blinked. "Pardon?"
"Ah..." said Luna.
"You said, 'Aha'."
"Did I? I meant 'ah'."
"Luna's teasing you, Hermione," said Harry with a broad grin.
Hermione frowned. I'll show you! She turned around and drew out her wand – her real wand. "Accio Adam's address!"
Nothing happened.
Luna giggled. Very, very softly. If she could have seen Hermione's dark scowl then perhaps she might not have...
"ACCIO GARDEN CENTRE ADVERT!"
Abruptly, a large pair of trousers that were suspended by a hanger in a corner of the room, twitched as if being tugged at by unseen hands. Out from one pocket a badly-folded sheet paper winged across to Hermione's triumphant grasp. "Aha!" She whirled around. "Told you! His name's not actually on it."
"Then how did you–?"
"Dad told me his name!" snapped Hermione, thrusting the paper away in her jeans pocket.
"Mmm... I see."
"What!"
"May I see?" smiled Luna. Harry laughed. He didn't know what was going on but it was funny to watch.
"You said..." Frowning at losing the verbal duel with an eight-year-old who didn't even know her own birth date, Hermione handed over the newspaper page.
"Oh..." said Luna after a while. "It's the Daily Prophet. I didn't know your daddy knew magical people."
"What? Oh..." said Hermione as Luna handed back the sheet.
"285, Diagon Alley," said Luna. "I don't remember any garden centres there – not even a tiny piece of the middle of one. Do you, Harry?"
Hermione's jaw had dropped. She turned away to study the advert more thoroughly at her desk. Why had she assumed that Adam was a Muggle simply because he'd visited a barber shop in Charing Cross Road? Not all wizards used a spell to keep their hair neat and tidy. And why had she not thought it strange then to see his advert in a magical newspaper? Perhaps because at the time I was sitting on a crate of distracting parrots worrying about having to murder Carrow! "Maybe he's a Squib," she murmured to herself.
"Olive blossom, how lovely!" Luna's jaw had come to rest on Hermione's shoulder, looking over it at the advertisement. Harry was on Hermione's other side, also squinting at Adam's picture with the little white flowers repeatedly blooming and fading around the border.
"They're olive blossom?" said Hermione. "Yes, I think you're right."
"From the tree, see? The one he's leaning against? That's an olive tree. You can tell by the branches."
"So, erm...?" Hermione knew something enormous was developing but she couldn't quite think what.
"Is he a witching guide from one of the American tribes? He doesn't look like one."
"You mean a medicine man? A native American? Of course not. He's... Oh. My. God!"
"He's smoking a ceremonial pipe of peace," Luna explained to Harry who was looking baffled. "Next to an olive branch."
"This is simply impossible," said Hermione.
"No, you can buy them in Knockturn Alley at Cloud Eagle's Trading Post. That's where Daddy bought our wigwams."
"Luna... I...
"It's alright. We all have secrets," Luna said gently.
"It was because of Ron," said Hermione. Her voice was very soft after her recent outcries. "He'd have been extremely... uncomfortable if he thought it was I who'd paid for his bus pass for an entire year; he'd only just met me on Christmas day. "I'm so sorry, Luna. It was on impulse but I shouldn't have made up that story they were from my Dad's friend."
"You knew Ron before, didn't you?" said Luna. "You said you lived it – all the things you see in your mind."
Hermione hesitated a long, long while.
It was Luna who broke the silence. "You were grown up with him, weren't you, Hermione? Were you married?"
Harry blinked his incomprehension for a few moments, then placed his hands over his face as the significance of Luna's words finally sank in.
Hermione's eyes gave away her astonishment too. "How did you – don't tell him, whatever you do!" said Hermione, "nor Ginny. You too, Harry. My spell won't stop you talking to anyone in our circle of friendship – you must be very careful!"
Harry had burst out in a fit of giggles. He tried to say something but couldn't because his thoughts were unable to imagine any sensible picture where Ron and Hermione were doing married things together. Every time he opened his mouth, laughter came out. Finally, as they watched, he managed to gasp out between spasms of laughing, "Why ... c-can't ... we ... t-tell him? He'll–"
"Ron died."
The smile froze on Harry's face, then an expression of horror took over.
"You must never tell him either of those things, Harry. It would be too cruel and I do not know what the consequences might be. Ooh, I wish I'd not told you! Oh, Luna, if only you weren't so quick to work it out."
Luna saw then the ancient pain in Hermione's eyes. "I forgive you about the bus passes," she said solemnly. "And everything. I promise never to reveal this secret."
"I promise too," said Harry.
.
—oOo—
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Author's Notes
This chapter felt a bit disjointed somehow – as if the rhythm is wrong. Hopefully it just seems that way because I've been over it so many times. Let me know what you think. I'm struggling now to finish the next chapter in 8 days so it might be 9 or 10. Oh, well...
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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