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So far... The reborn Hermione befriended Harry, Luna, and the Weasleys at a much younger age and even though Voldemort died early, she has formed the Cathesis League to fight corruption, elevate justice, and ultimately seek cooperation between Muggles and Magical societies. Ravenclaw's Diadem is needed to save Mrs Lovegood so Hermione must get ready to search for it in Albania. Now read on...
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Chapter 26
Preparing To Investigate
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One of a Pair
The end of the week saw Adam Brown with a bagful of Christmas shopping striding across Diagon Alley towards the excited knot of robed figures gathered around the news vendor on the corner of Knockturn.
REDEEMED! was The Quibbler headline. Luna's drawing, now colourfully animated and almost filling the front page, depicted tears of innocence trickling down Paul's saintly face. Off to one side, Barty Crouch stood, arms folded and slowly nodding his head in approval at a job well done.
Detailed interviews with those present at the inquiry
provides you with the true account of how the drama
unfolded to show that Mr Paul Ingleton is blameless!
Adam indulged a smile of satisfaction as he entered Knockturn. The Lovegoods had protected themselves should there be any accusation by Rita of their being concealed in the press gallery.
With Christmas only weeks away, Hermione had reserved this one day for shopping and her Polyjuice disguise enabled her to browse unaccompanied. Creepy crones and glib bagmen loitered in the byway; all stood aside to let the big man pass, and soon those intelligent eyes fell upon the sign: Calla's Curios. Adam pushed open the door and entered.
The tinkle of the doorbell echoed around a shop empty of customers but in every direction he could see counters and shelves stacked with boxes and trays awash with loose bric-a-brac. On one side, cheap wooden bead necklaces lay strewn across tatty books, with a variety of worn umbrellas, tarnished candlesticks, and common household adornments – some clearly of non-magical origin – mixed in. There was Muggle clothing too, mingled with the witch's robes on the racks arranged around the corner of the room, and he could not resist skimming through to see what was on offer. A young girl's pleated dress in pastel yellow made him squeal with delight and, without thinking, he held it against himself to see how the garment looked in the wall mirror.
"Ahem..."
Adam whirled around. The shopkeeper, a handsome, dark-haired woman of about thirty years was looking at him rather strangely. "The uuh... ladies' sizes are further along, sir."
"No, no! Not – what – not!" squeaked Adam. He coughed to clear his throat then deepened his voice. "That is, it's not... that is, it's not..." He tried to think of an excuse.
"For your wife, sir?"
"Heavens no! I'm not erm..."
"Not...?"
Seeing her glance down at his hands, Adam abruptly remembered he was still clutching the frock to himself. "Aaah..."
"If sir wishes to try, there is a dressing room to your left." The witch leaned forward over the counter revealing an ample bosom ill-concealed by her loose purple robe. "And if you need any help...?"
Adam forced a hoarse laugh and cleared his throat again. "For my daughter. Christmas party coming up... lots of friends, haha! What I was really looking for was..."
"For your... daughter?" she smiled, one eyebrow cocked doubtfully.
"Mmm... sort of. Look, Miss er... I'm–"
"Sort of? Ah...!"
"Mirrors!" blurted Adam. "Uuh... special, two-way erm... mirrors?"
The woman's eyes widened but there was a hint of hungry delight deep within them. She leaned forward even further. "I'm Calla. We could arrange something later if sir would like to..."
"Ah, look!" cried Adam. The far end of the shop boasted items of better quality and was organised into groups: books, clocks, paintings and other wall hangings, pretty ornamental boxes and containers. He walked directly towards a wide basket glittering with looking-glasses and began examining them. "Any of these two-way?"
"Sadly, only the greatest sorcerers have ever produced two-way mirrors because they are so exceedingly difficult to enchant and the art is mostly lost," sighed Calla, "which makes them rarer than Occamy triplets and ten times the price. However, it so happens I do have a very nice pair – I can let you see one if you desire, Mister...?"
"Uumm... Adam, call me Adam. One on its own? That's not so useful."
"Oh, you'd be surprised, Adam," said Calla mysteriously.
He thought for a few moments. "How much?"
Calla was leaning forward so far now that she was almost sprawled – visible flesh-aquiver – across the counter, one hand clutching hungrily at Adam's sleeve. "I'm sure we could come to some agreeable compensation," she said softly.
Acquiring the mirror was too important to risk offending the shopkeeper. Adam suppressed a shudder and attempted to control his feelings. "I'll consider it."
"But the one for you is right here. Take a look. Perhaps you might like to appraise it for a few days?" She straightened herself up and, gesturing downwards, slowly sank behind the counter.
Curious, Adam leaned over and gulped at the view. Calla was rummaging in her handbag that had been shelved there and was taking her time about it. She looked up suddenly with a big smile that intentionally revealed white teeth between vivid red lips. "Ah, I think I have just what you want."
She pulled out a small mirror set in a rectangular gold frame, then slowly rose up to lean forward and press it into his hand. "Shall we say... twenty Galleons, and I'll throw in your frilly dress for nothing?"
Adam frowned. Single two-way mirrors were worth hundreds – a thousand or more for a good pair. He touched it with his wand and chanted an ancient spell; his reflection nodded back at him. "It's authentic," he murmured to himself, slightly surprised.
He wasn't sure what Calla was up to, but he handed over the money, anxious to get away.
"Don't forget your little frock," smiled Calla.
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Preparing Gifts
Hermione smiled as she hung the new party dress in her wardrobe. Christmas would be fun at the Weasleys, but the new year would bring fresh problems – the most pressing of which would be saving Pandora. In Hermione's previous life, Luna's mother had died in April but her own interaction with the Lovegoods might change that date, so minimum delay was essential. Perhaps in the end she'd have to make the long trip to Albania by Muggle transport disguised as Adam again – but Hermione did not relish such an extended use of Polyjuice.
Taking three identical leather-bound books from her desk, she carried them over to her bed and, sitting cross-legged, wriggled herself comfortable while she examined her purchases. Each was an everlasting diary with their own delicate brass lock and key. She opened the first and began considering how she could apply the Protean charm so Luna, Ginny, and Harry could stay in touch when he started his first year at Hogwarts. It would not be easy, and she'd have to consult one of her advanced charms books then practise on a couple of old notebooks.
She wrinkled her nose. Charming a book to imitate the words written in another was one thing, tuning another mirror to reflect the image in the one she'd brought in Diagon Alley would be much more difficult, even supposing another could be found. She opened her bag and examined the looking glass. It was not large but when she was reshaped as Adam Brown it had fitted neatly in the palm of his big hand, whereas now it was slightly cumbersome for a child to use discretely. Perhaps it could be cut in half. Yes, that's how the ancients used to produce them: the skillful work of casting the most inconceivably-complex Protean charm took days of precise ritual, so a larger mirror was enchanted then physically divided by an apprentice to greatly reduce the expert labour needed. Yes, she'd ask her dad at the weekend if he could cut and reframe the glass. Meanwhile, she went to fetch her charms book to begin the hours of research needed to learn how to bewitch the diaries.
One Way Trip
"Pumpkin juice, Rosemary?" Vera Gair smiled knowingly as she offered Hermione a drink. It was the first celebration at a Cathesis League meeting since it had been formed and the remembrance of Hermione's intoxication had everyone chuckling.
"To Paul Ingleton, may he meet with the success he deserves!" Barty Crouch raised his glass.
"To Paul!" responded the gathering.
"I do hope they quickly promote him out of that horrible job he's doing now," said Jop.
Everyone nodded. Mike added, "It may be a very slow process for his career to advance though."
After chatting briefly about Paul's prospects, the meeting was called to order.
"Firstly," said Vera, "Mike, I believe you've made progress with the equipment that Rosemary needs?"
"Yes, a suitable – though rather small – Muggle lab was closing down, and my company has made an offer. I'm hopeful that fitting-out can be performed rapidly so research can begin later in the new year – if that's alright with you, Rosemary?"
Hermione nodded. "Thank you, yes, Mr Worthing. How's your treatment at St. Mungo's coming along?"
He smiled. "Very well. They tell me I've stabilised for the time being and I definitely feel much better – almost normal. Oh, and please call me Mike."
"Good. Let me know as soon as you have the property because I'd like to look it over and advise your people how to set it up."
"Uuh... that won't be too early in the new year, will it?" said Barty, "because I might possibly have that... erm... item you requested, Rosemary?"
Hermione's eyes lit up. "Ah, that journey need not be secret so long as it's kept within the League, Mr Crouch. What date is the Portkey for?"
"A rich Albanian family are spending Christmas with relatives in London and were due to return to Tirana the Wednesday after, but decided to stay another week." He hefted his briefcase up onto the round table and scrabbled around inside.
"Tirana?" Hermione frowned. "The capital, isn't it? That's miles from Peshkopi."
"Take a broom with you," smiled Barty. "Ah, here it is..."
He pulled out a fragment from a broken plant pot. "They have an extensive garden so while they're still away, you won't be noticed."
"It returns to their garden?"
"The far end of the garden, yes."
"And it's a return only? That is, it's a return Portkey with only the return left? It's one-way for me?"
Mr Crouch frowned. "You're lucky to get anything for Albania."
Hermione said rather hastily, "Oh, I didn't mean to sound ungrateful, it's just that I'm hopeless on a broomstick and... well, obviously, I need to come back after."
Crouch looked puzzled. "I thought you might, you know..." He arched his eyebrows.
"Apparate back! Possibly... "Mike, have you a map of Europe?"
Mike laughed heartily. "There's no way anyone can Apparate all the way from Albania!" He fetched an atlas from his bookshelves and soon had it opened up on the table. "See? It's over a thousand miles!"
Hermione leaned over. "Mmm..."
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Luna's Your Man
Harry winced. "You know I want to help you, Hermione, but I can't really... does it have to be on Wednesday?"
The children were sprawled out in Ron's room having a 'secret' Christmas afternoon meeting. Hermione, sitting with Harry on the bed set up for his overnight stay, smoothed out the pleats in her new dress thoughtfully. She'd taken his assistance for granted and now reproached herself for it. Even so, she found herself pleading, "The problem is I don't trust myself on a broomstick for a long journey. You could say you're visiting me for the day."
Harry nodded. "Okay then..."
No great insight was needed for Hermione to see that he looked unhappy. "What is it, Harry?"
"Only, Uncle Remus is coming to stay for two days. I've never missed any of his visits – he's really nice and interesting and everything."
Hermione blew out a long breathy whistle of air. "Oh, Harry, I'm sorry. I was being selfish. Of course you can't miss–"
"No, you're my best friend and friends come first!" Harry reminded himself rather stiffly.
"Absolutely not," said Hermione, equally as definite. "It wouldn't be fair on Remus either – I mean your Uncle Remus – he counts as a friend too."
"I'll go with you instead," said Ginny. She was clutching her new diary lovingly; the ragdoll Minnie nowhere to be seen. She'd opened up a lot during the last year, and Ron had conceded she was now more like her normal, talkative self even when all of them were together. She continued, "I'm the best flier. We'll lock arms side by side and go slow. You said it was only forty miles – that won't take long."
Hermione shook her head. "Perhaps, but your mum'll never–"
"Ginny, you said you'd stay with me after Christmas!" cried Luna. "You promised."
"Exactly." Ginny gave an impish grin. "Mum won't know where I am, and it's only for half a morning you said, Hermione."
Luna, who had been lying on her back behind Ron and Ginny, rolled over to face the others. "Then I'm coming too!"
"Now wait a minute...!" cried Hermione.
"I don't get it – what's the big secret, anyway?" said Ron. With Luna's elbow now lodged against his side, he shifted his position a few times on the bed, then gave up and trudged grumpily to the window to look out. Another dry Christmas with no snow.
Luna saw Harry and Hermione exchange glances, and her eyes frown-squinted. "So Harry already knows?"
Ron whirled around. "It's about me then, isn't it?"
"Ron, I promise you it isn't," said Hermione.
"But that only leaves Luna and Ginny!" cried Ron.
"And you already said, perhaps Ginny can go," said Luna. She rolled back to face the wall.
"Who said it's about anyone here?" said Harry.
Nobody spoke for a while.
"Is it something bad?" Luna said softly without turning around.
Hermione uttered a half-hearted denial.
"No, it's good... ish," added Harry, seeing Hermione's glare.
"That always means it's bad," Luna said miserably.
Harry whispered in Hermione's ear, "Why don't we just tell them?"
"No way!" hissed Hermione.
"I don't mean about... you-know-what. But we could, you know..."
Hermione insisted they shouldn't.
"She'll have to know eventually."
Reminded of that indisputable fact, Hermione relented with a sigh. "It's about finding a great treasure."
Luna rolled over to face her again. "I love treasure!"
"The secret is that it's dangerous for... me. Yes, for me. If Ginny helps, I can then immediately Apparate her back. Once I've seen the place, I can Apparate there again."
"But what's the danger?" said Ron. "And why do you have to face it alone? I thought we were a secret society, not a secret... one-person-on-their-own sort of erm... society."
"There's a magical creature and–"
"What sort of creature!" cried Luna, sitting up now, all alert.
"Uumm... the sort that eats you."
"Can't you just avoid it?" said Ginny.
Hermione shook her head. "That's the whole point, you have to get by it."
Luna gasped. "Then it's a sphinx, isn't it! You have to answer a riddle to get to the treasure she's guarding or she devours you! How exciting!"
"That's just plain bonkers!" shrilled Ginny half-rising to her feet. "As if they want to give you a chance to steal their treasure?" She hesitated as all eyes fell upon her in surprise. "Who put it there anyway? And why didn't they just tell the sphinx to eat everyone who comes near?" – here, Luna protested that sphinxes won't do that, but Ginny squeaked on regardless, her expression one of bafflement – "And how can they control a sphinx? Where'd they get a sphinx to protect it and why?" She sank back to a sitting position, her face slightly flushed, and trying not to look at Harry. Perhaps, after all, little Ginny wasn't quite ready yet for such an outburst outside of her family.
Harry frowned. "Yes, why did they, Hermione?"
"I can't say."
"But you know, I can tell."
"Yes. Look, what does it matter? It's a dangerous magical creature and I'm the only one with experience of–"
"I've seen lots of creatures," Luna said dreamily. "Lots and lots and lots..."
Hermione enquired if she'd ever flown on a Hippogriff.
Luna's wide open mouth signalled that she hadn't.
"Been to London on an Invisible Thestral?" Hermione added primly. "Or ridden a dragon the length of the country? Fought a giant snake?"
Luna's mouth gaped wider and her eyes bulged white and round.
"No way have you ridden a dragon!" cried Ron. "You'd have to be mental."
"Well, yes, that's true," giggled Hermione, "you were with me at the time, Ronald."
It was Ron's jaw's turn to drop. "I...? I...?"
"Yes. When you robbed Gringotts bank with Harry and me to help vanquish an evil wizard."
"I..." spluttered Ron. "I d-did what?"
"Ron, that's only a fraction of all the noble deeds you accomplished. You fought battles by my side. You all did! Why'd you think I chose you as friends? Because you're the best!"
Ron went and sat down on his bed again, somewhat humbled by his 'other self' and deep in thought. Everyone fell silent.
"But the fact remains, I'm the only one that can remember that life, so it has to be me alone that goes. It's not being noble; I'm just the one most suited to the task in hand."
"You're wrong," said Ron.
"What?"
"If it's a riddle you want answering, then Luna's your man."
Ginny nodded in agreement. "She's a whizz at riddles. And not bad on a broomstick either – but not as good as me," she added hastily. "You need us both. What you said, the ones most suited to the task. Luna could tell you the solution to the riddle and then you tell the sphinx and risk getting eaten if that's what's worrying you."
"I've always longed to see a sphinx," said Luna in her faraway voice. "The fiercesome body of a huge lion, the enormous wings of a great eagle, the beauteous face and bosoms of a heavenly woman, the razor-sharp intellect of a–"
But Ron had rolled back on his bed giggling madly. Harry was laughing too, with his face buried in his hands.
Hermione was shaking her head in disbelief. Boys! She threw up her arms in resignation, but then began to visualise the strange creature that Luna had described. "Perhaps it would be best if only us girls go – at least as far as the sphinx – then I'll get the treasure and we can be back in time for tea."
"B-but I know a few riddles!" gasped Ron, trying to suppress his merriment.
"Not the sort you sing at a Quidditch match, Ron!" quipped Hermione, then added with a sly smirk, "Suddenly interested in the sphinx's charms are we?"
It was the girls' turn to laugh.
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Back To The Future
Hermione was still planning for the journey a couple of days later at home but that evening her parents were absorbed in a movie they'd rented...
Mom. That you? came from the television.
There, there, now. Just relax. You've been asleep for almost nine hours now.
"Dad...?" whispered Hermione, trying to be discreet.
"Mmm...?" Mr Granger had his feet up and his mind was on the movie playing on the family video recorder.
I had a horrible nightmare. I dreamed that I went... back in time. It was terrible.
"Dad, could you cut something in half for me?" Hermione said as casually as possible.
Her mother burst out, "Heavens, Hermione! You're old enough to use scissors – in the drawer." Mrs Granger pointed at the sideboard without taking her eyes off the television.
Well, you're safe and sound now, back in good old 1955.
"It's not just paper," said Hermione.
NINETEEN-FIFTY-FIVE!
Mr Granger sighed and paused the VHS. "Like what then?"
Mrs Granger yelped. "Ohhhwuh.. hang on! Was that girl Marty's mother!" She tried to wrestle the remote control from her husband.
"Like... a mirror? said Hermione. "Yes, Mum, that's Marty McFly's mother before she got married but she doesn't know he's her son and he thinks she's his mother – well she is – but he's not seen how young she is yet so then they–"
"A mirror!" Edward Granger felt the remote pulled from his suddenly-limp grasp.
"Yes, you've got a glass cutter haven't you?"
"Yes, but... so... your magic not good enough for a bit of do-it-itself, eh?"
"Uumm... I can blast it, break it, burn it, vanish it, and probably transform it into ice, but I don't know how to cut it neatly in half."
"Well then, looks like your old non-magical dad is of some use after all!"
"You're the best, Dad. I've put it in the workshop. And... make two frames, one for each half?" She tagged that on the end in the hope he'd nod without listening properly.
Edward Granger rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Why don't you let me paint your bedroom, fix your teeth and teach you the flamenco while we're at it?"
"I hate braces, you know that!"
"You'll think differently in a few years time when you start getting interested in boys."
"Edward!"
"Well she will."
"If a boy is so shallow that he rejects me solely because I'm slightly bucktoothed then I'm better off without him," the little girl declared scornfully. "Anyway, I can fix my teeth anytime."
"What!" Mr Granger swung his legs off the pouffe and sat upright to study his daughter's expression. "Then why don't you?"
"They make me appear less threatening and more vulnerable, and therefore less suspect. Anyway... looks aren't everything."
Edward exchanged glances with his wife, then said slyly, "You're waiting for Harry, aren't you?"
"No I'm not." Hermione's cheeks pinked slightly and she groaned inwardly.
"Better watch out. I've seen the way he looks at that evenly-toothed Ginny Weasley..."
"What! When?" Hermione leaned forward and stared at her father.
He grinned. "Got you!" He looked across at Anne. "So... it is Harry."
"Oh, don't tease her, Edward..." Mrs Granger pressed play on the remote.
"You're my mah...! You're my mah...!"
"My name is Lorraine... Lorraine Baines."
"Dad...?"
"Yah! but you're hah...! You're so hah...! so... thin!"
"Any chance you could do it by Wednesday morning?"
Anne Granger sighed and froze the movie again. "Hermione, your dad works hard all year – can't you let him relax through the break? Christmas is for family not for work."
"Well..." said Mr Granger.
"Edward, you promised."
"Yes, you're right, Anne. Anyway, even if I cut the mirror tomorrow I doubt I could reframe two mirrors by Wednesday. Leave it a few days, Hermione and I'll take a look."
"Besides," said Mrs Granger, "you're staying at Luna's Wednesday-Thursday, remember, Hermione? Surely the mirror can wait till after?"
Hermione nodded and rose to her feet. "I suppose... yes, I can manage." It would have been nice to have a quick way to communicate with Luna or Ginny if there was an emergency in Albania, she grouched to herself. The diaries would do – so long as there was time to write a message. As she trudged off upstairs to her room she listened for a change of heart from her parents but all she could hear was the television once more...
"I've never seen purple underwear before, Calvin."
Hermione groaned and closed her door rather firmly. If she had one regret about her new life, it was that she'd probably never again enjoy a movie she'd not already seen more than once already. Still, at least so many good books had been written, she'd need several lifetimes to read them all.
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The Fairest of Them All?
Not long after breakfast the next morning, Anne Granger began hoovering up pine needles from under the Christmas tree and Mr Granger took to gazing out the kitchen window until the noise was over. The garden looked quite drab at this time of year – leaves needed raking again and the wisteria could use a good prune – but he'd promised his wife they'd spend more time together during the festive season. Still, he did have an hour with nothing to do while Anne was busy making all that racket...
An idea occurred to him and he fetched his coat from the hall, then raised his voice to carry over the heavy whine of the vacuum cleaner. "Thought I'd take that cassette back to the rental. I could use some fresh air. You didn't want to watch it again, did you?"
"What'd you say?" The machine droned on.
"Back to the Future – we've finished with it, right?" He held up the videocassette – Anne nodded – and he thrust it into the empty carrier bag from the top of the vegetable rack.
As he slipped quietly out the back door, Anne finished vacuuming around the spruce tree, and sighed as the sound of the cleaner motor slowly faded away, leaving the room in a blissful peace. She coiled up the cable then, glancing at the clock, left it to fetch a small beef joint from the freezer, ready to thaw.
Edward eased himself quickly into the garden shed and closed the door before looking around his workshop. "Ah!"
It was quite a small mirror that lay upon his bench and he wondered why Hermione wanted it reduced even further. Still, he'd felt a bit guilty after the movie had finished last night. Hermione had been trying hard not to show her disappointment, and the least he could do would be to measure up the work to be done.
He shook his head at the existing frame; it was gilded metal and, although he was handy with small craftwork, he'd no experience with working a material like that. However, he did have a cracked old box made of walnut he could cannibalise. After retrieving his rule from the toolbox, he turned over the mirror and scribbled down the measurements on the back...
Twenty minutes later, Anne was almost finished tidying up. She put the vacuum cleaner away in the cupboard under the stairs. "Hermione!" she called. "You finished up there yet? And did you sort out your travel bag for tomorrow? Don't leave it late! I'm making a coffee. Want one?"
"Yes, yes, and..." Hermione came thundering down the stairs like a herd of elephants, "...and yes, please."
She looked around. "Where's Dad?"
"Gone to the video store to get another movie."
"So why's he not taken this one back?" Hermione prodded the carrier bag hidden at the side of the sofa.
Anne frowned then went went to the kitchen window. "Well I'll be a..."
"What? A monkey's uncle? Technically you'd have to be a monkey's aunt." Hermione opened up the Daily Prophet which had arrived earlier and scowled. The Auror office was investigating a strange occurrence last night where a group of rowdy Muggles had all thrown themselves off a bridge into the Thames. She riffled through the pages. Skeeter had still not mentioned anything about the yellow paint incident at the inquiry. Good.
She looked up, wondering where the coffee had got to. "Mum? What is it?"
Anne Granger was staring out the window. She'd glimpsed her husband at the shed window and had been stewing over it. "I think he's working. After what we agreed." She released a sigh of resignation. "Oh, well, I'll take him coffee and biscuits – no, I won't! I'll tell him there's coffee and biscuits waiting for him in the kitchen so he can damn well come and sit with his family or he's in trouble."
As Mrs Granger stomped out of the backdoor, Hermione giggled and continued reading. Another burglary in Diagon Alley – still, there seemed to be less of them these days. She turned the page then looked sideways as a thought occurred to her. Dad working? She jumped up and trotted after her mother.
Anne Granger had an impish grin on her face and a raised rolling pin in her hand as she silently opened the shed door. But another woman's voice could be heard coming from inside...
"Oh, Edward darling, please let me look at you, I've been waiting so long..."
Mr Granger said, "Would you at least put your clothes on before my–?"
Anne Granger screamed. Hermione, who was already jogging down the garden path towards her, accelerated into a run. She pushed past her distraught mother who was furiously pulling out spades and hoes as she searched the tool cupboard, took in the image of her shocked father and the mirror he was trying to hide behind his back, and dodged beside him. Seizing the mirror she looked into it. Calla from the curio shop was lounging in a negligee on her couch, and looking straight at her.
"Oh, erm... sorry," said Hermione, "but Mummy and Daddy are busy right now."
"WHAT!" cried Calla, her face turning white, "He's...? he's...? and you're...? you're...?"
"That's right. Thank you for the party dress; it's lovely. Oh, and thanks for the mirror too. Goodbye."
She put the mirror face down on the bench and, pulling out her wand, began chanting over it. When she looked up, both her parents were staring at her with a mix of horror and annoyance on their faces.
"Hermione!" shrieked her mother. "What have you been up to now! Who was that... that... harlot!"
Back in the parlour ten minutes later, both the mood and the coffee were somewhat tepid as Mrs Granger continued to fume, despite Hermione's explanation.
"But Anne," said Edward, "I've told you, I was so startled that my hand shook and I turned the mirror away so she never saw me properly. She thought I was this... Adam person. It was like a wrong number – I just said no, my name's Edward."
"And you've never met her?"
"Of course not – she's a witch!"
"And how would you know that without – oh, no, don't tell me she was wearing only a witch's hat!"
"She was talking out of a mirror for crying out loud!" cried Edward. He rounded on Hermione who was trying ineffectively to hide under a cushion on her chair. "And why didn't you tell me the mirror was... magical!"
"I got it cheap as half of a matched pair but I never expected the shopkeeper to use the other one. I've uncoupled it now, so she won't be able to use it again."
She abandoned her safety cushion and headed for the hall stairs.
"So what use would it be then?" her father called after her.
"Once it's cut then the two halves will naturally be attuned to each other without any further magic." Her voice faded as she ascended the stairs. "Then Luna can use it like a mobile."
Mr and Mrs Granger exchanged glances. "What did she say?" said Anne.
"Sounded like, 'a mobile'. Maybe Luna's going to hang the two pieces in her room. That girl's sometimes a bit... odd."
.
The Wherewithal
Rodney Dunn was a very unusual Muggle; he knew about magic and was smart enough to keep quiet about it. But then, he understood a great deal about many things. He had never fully mastered any one discipline, yet he excelled in several by having a mind brimming with curiosity and a need to satisfy that urge. So naturally he was pleased to receive any guest who added to his knowledge.
"Well, well, Ms Skeeter. What have you brought for me today?" His eyes were on the crocodile handbag gripped by long crimson fingernails as he admitted her into his home. He enjoyed her gifts; she knew his needs well.
As they sat down opposite each other at the smallest table in his overly-furnished lounge, she drew a dull string of tiny grey beads from her bag. "Don't be deceived. It's a charm bracelet that makes one less conspicuous – for use in awkward or opportune moments."
She tossed it over to him and only the immediacy of the tabletop obscured his fumbled catch, else it would have landed on the carpet. If his attention had not been so absorbed in the trinket he might have noticed a dark smile flicker across her face; Rita always rejoiced at any sign of weakness. The bland wristlet was only the feeblest of notice-me-not charms, but he was not to know that.
Dunn kept his own smile within himself. He was well aware of the visitor's devious trading – but also knew she was ignorant of the value of the lowliest magical bauble to a wise Muggle.
"Try it on," said Skeeter. He did so.
Her attention soon wandered around the room. Most of the illumination came from the fire in the grate but she could see well enough. She frowned – very slightly – picked up her bag and headed for the door.
"Ms Skeeter?" He knew the game she was playing.
"Mmm...?" She stopped and turned around with a puzzled expression on her face.
He removed the bracelet.
"Ah! Sorry," she said, "I'm getting so absent-minded these days."
He fanned his face and yawned sympathetically. "Yes, it is rather stultifying in here," he replied. "Perhaps a cool drink?" He went over to the cluttered mantelpiece and rang a little bell. While his hand was yet on the bell and obscured from his guest's view, he slipped the bracelet back on and pushed it high up under his sleeve.
"And what did you wish in return for your kind gift?" he asked. He'd had to push aside a Toby jug to make room for his elbow on the mantel end so he could lounge back motionless in relative shadow and study Rita from a different perspective.
Again she was reaching into the bag but like her host, her hand remained where it was, for there was a knock on the door and a middle-aged woman entered.
"Oh... excuse me, Madam." The newcomer glanced swiftly around the room. The chamber had the gloomy confusion of far too much Victoriana, dark wallpaper, and the over-contrasting fireplace glare. "Sorry, Madam, did you ring the bell?"
Skeeter waited for Dunn to reply but he did not immediately do so. A slightly awkward silence ensued – just long enough for Rodney to discover what he wanted to know. "It was I, Mrs Williams, could you–?"
The woman started slightly. "Oh, sorry, Mr Dunn, I didn't see you there."
"Quite alright. Could you bring us iced tea and perhaps some of your orange soda?"
"Very good, sir." She withdrew from the room, closing the door very softly behind her.
"My landlady is not the brightest crayon in the box but she is dutiful."
Rita, whose hand was still held within her crocodile's maw, replied, "No need to explain. I understand perfectly." And she did. And he knew that she did. That's what made the game interesting. As was the item she next pulled out of her bag.
He frowned. Not often was he surprised or puzzled for long, but the slender rod of yellow she held up looked so odd in the current situation he could not place what it might be, even when he drew near.
Skeeter explained. "I believe it's a writing device – probably a Muggle pen, I would think."
"Curious..." He took it from her, examined it, then, trying not to show his disappointment, he nodded. "Paint. It's been dipped in paint?"
"In a way. The thing is, I'd like to know whose it is."
Dunn smiled. "There's sufficient plastic showing to indicate it's a common Bic ball-point pen. Billions of these have been made. If you're hoping for an engraved initial, you'll be out of luck. We only have personal names on more expensive pens – unless it was picked up in a doctor's or corporate waiting room, in which case it would only have the business name stamped on it."
Well she knew Dunn's obsessive appetite for knowledge; she waited. Her lack of comment he noted and looked again at the pen. He could feel the bracelet very softly gripping his forearm and he wanted to keep it quite badly. "There might be a way... do you have any suspects?"
"I do."
"Ah... and might you procure say, a garment? Or a shoe, a fingernail clipping, a few drops of blood? Even a few hairs would do – but make sure you don't touch it yourself."
Skeeter's gaze gave nothing away of her surprise. Did he intend to make a magical potion? She'd love to contribute a few pints of Xenophilius Lovegood's vital fluids. "That might be possible, yes."
"The difficulty would be in removing the paint without destroying any evidence beneath it."
"Evidence?"
"We call it DNA. Tell me, did anyone else handle it before it was coated in paint? Did you?"
"No, someone was writing with it shortly before it was... covered."
"I see" – he didn't – "I'll need to make inquiries, but I suspect it could take weeks to remove this stuff without damage. Are you not able to... draw it off with your wand? I've seen you do some amazing things."
Skeeter sighed. "I practised on an old painting – it tore the canvas. The portrait wasn't very happy about it either. Then I–"
"Excuse me?" frowned Dunn. "The portrait wasn't... what?"
"Just an expression – forget about it. I then tried to vanish the paint but the entire picture disappeared, even the frame. It's exceeding difficult to be precise with that kind of magic."
"I see. And where do portraits go to, exactly, when they...?"
Die. She knew that's what he'd been about to say – there was an eagerness in his expression to learn more about what she'd let slip. But Rita Skeeter wasn't about to give such details away for nothing – only that which was obvious came free from her mean-spirited disposition. "Vanished objects go into non-being of course. The reverse of existence, where else?"
She rose up quickly to avoid further questioning. "I'll provide you with the wherewithal in due course, Mr Dunn. Good day to you."
He'd let her out and returned with the phone book to the parlour to consider his plans, when Mrs Williams reappeared with a tray. "Oh... drat," the good woman murmured, looking around a little more carefully this time. Then she took the refreshments and left without another word, shaking her head.
Rodney Dunn smiled. He'd employed his landlady because she was smart, useful, and observant... for a Muggle.
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—oOo—
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Author's Notes
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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