Hi,
hi! I hope you are all enjoying the
lovely summer weather…Per a good suggestion by Britt, I'll sum up what happened
in the last chapter before getting on with the story. Here goes…
When
last we met, Hermione Granger had just returned to Hogwarts, escorted by Remus
Lupin and Bill Weasley. Despite
Professor Trelawney's predictions of disaster, Dumbledore and team see Hermione
as an important factor in the battle against Voldemort and are squarely behind
teaching her all they can. In the
meantime, Harry and Ron worry that it will be a tough year for all of them and
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley discuss the possibility of impeaching Cornelius Fudge, who
is suspected of being on the wrong side of the Voldemort struggle.
THE
HEIRESS 3: Old Friends, New Adversaries
Hermione
walked hand-in-hand with Bill Weasley towards the road to Hogsmeade. "I just wish I could come with,"
she sighed. Bill was on his way to
visit the twins before returning East to continue his work with Sirius
Black. Dumbledore had forbidden Hermione
to leave the castle grounds.
"Dumbledore
knows what's best, Hermione. You'll be
safe here."
Hermione
hung her head. "Here and nowhere
else, it seems. I wasn't even able to
go to London to see Mum…"
They
had reached the road and the end of Hermione's parameters. Bill took her in his arms and gave her a
hug. "Don't worry, Herm. Soon school will be back in session and
you'll be so busy you won't have any time on your hands."
"I
guess. Will you… will you be back for a
visit?" she had come to rely on Bill over the past several months and knew
she'd miss him, however busy she became.
He
squeezed her tightly. "I'll be
back as soon as I can, luv. And don't
forget to write - let's keep Hermes busy so he doesn't get fat, eh?"
She
smiled as he held her at arms' length, studying her face as if to memorize her
features. Before she knew it, his lips
were on hers, firmly. No nonsense, no
hesitation. She was not displeased.
"Hey
there, Bill!"
The
sound of Hagrid's greeting caused Bill to release her with a sigh. "Someday we'll have more time," he
whispered. Aloud, he returned Hagrid's
greeting. "'Allo, Hagrid! What's that you've got there?"
"Jus'
somethin' for the kids," Hagrid replied with a very wide grin as he gave
Bill a lumpy red sack. "Found 'em
travellin' wit' 'Lympia las' month.
They're whirlin' wombats.
Thought the kids'd like 'em for the shop."
Bill
laughed and took the sack. "I'm
sure they will, Hagrid. You take care
of my best girl, okay?" He
squeezed Hermione's shoulders, stepped onto the Hogsmeade road and
disapparated.
"Nice
fella, eh, Hermione?"
"Yes,
very nice," agreed Hermione. As
she followed Hagrid back to his magizoo, she was brooding about the
Weasleys. Had she come to rely too much
on Bill these past months? Was it
because she missed Ron so terribly and Bill was so like him, or was it
more? She added it to her ever-mounting
list of worries. Glancing at the dark
clouds accumulating to the North, she hurried after Hagrid. It was going to be quite a storm.
Draco
Malfoy had spent the past twenty minutes attempting to ignore Goyle and
Crabbe. They were on about recent Death
Eater activities and, while he knew a considerable amount about the subject, he
had rather be at the castle. She was
there.
For
the first time in his life, Draco knew what it was to be torn in two. He'd spent the summer in Copenhagen, with
his mother's family. They were not
supporters of Voldemort, yet they had no intention of getting involved in
"unpleasant business." They
were, however, roundly opposed to Lucius Malfoy, who had deserted his family
six brief months ago in order to follow Lord Voldemort. They were quite vocal on that topic. It pained Draco to hear their endless
diatribes, no matter how much his father deserved them.
On
that score, he had received one letter from his father, delivered by a sleek
black raven in the middle of the night.
In it, his father "forgave" him his foolishness, well
understanding how "a lovely face could turn one's head." In fact, he went on, Lord Voldemort, who
repented of his "misinformed actions" last March, was delighted with
young Malfoy's interest in his granddaughter and encouraged him to develop this
relationship. "After all, Draco,
you have your priorities, regardless of your mother's foolish sentimentality. We here at Castle Karkaroff are depending on
you to influence young Hermione. Lord
Voldemort has no wish to harm her; indeed, he wishes to take her under his
magnificent wing. Just think of it,
Draco, the privileges she will enjoy as his heir and the resulting honors due
you given your… association with her. I
know you will act in a manner appropriate for my only son and heir, Draco. Please keep us apprised of your progress in
this matter. Best, etc., Your
Father."
Draco
had crumpled the parchment in disgust, then tossed and turned for the remainder
of the night as the weighty issues of recent events crashed upon his
wheat-blonde head. He was barely
sixteen and had to face the fact that everything his father had taught him, the
very fabric of his life, was tainted by the hand of Lord Voldemort. All his associations, his knowledge, his
heritage and his future were tied up in the aspirations of Lord Voldemort. In his early youth, Voldemort had been
vanquished and these factors had been more subtle, not fully fleshed. Now, with Voldemort active and gaining
strength in his Balkan fortress, Draco had to face the fact that his father had
openly cast his loyalties with him, abandoning his veneer of righteousness
along with his family. He would take Draco
under his wing, provided that Draco was a good little boy and played his game.
Getting
close to Hermione had great appeal; indeed, it had been his plan. But to do so on behalf of Voldemort, to win
her over? Unthinkable. She'd see right through it and reject him
utterly. He could not have that.
On
the other hand, his financial well-being was very much at stake. His mother's people were quite comfortable,
but did not possess the fabulous wealth of the Malfoys. He had grown up expecting to inherit millions. He was not willing to relinquish that
expectation.
Atop
these many pressing concerns was his loyalty to his mother. She, too, had never openly defied his
father. Until that fateful night when
he'd almost been murdered by Voldemort.
Each of his parents had made their choice; his mother had chosen his
welfare. He could never forget that,
nor could he forgive his father's callous decision.
These
matters burdened the young Malfoy as the Hogwarts Express rattled its way to
the castle. The start of another year,
unlike any before it.
He
sighed and turned his head to the window.
The skies were darkened with a brewing storm; he could see his
reflection against the glass. There
were bluish circles under his eyes. His
scar, now a thin white line across his cheek, burned. He rubbed it and tried to think.
His colleagues in Slytherin would accept his open courting of Hermione,
as her status had altered quite materially in their eyes. That was something he could take advantage
of. But there was that damn Weasley,
not to mention Potter. To keep company
with Hermione would mean tolerating the "Dream Team," and he didn't
know if he could do that. And Weasley
would flatten him in a heartbeat if he suspected him. Which he did. For the
first time in his life he wished for someone he could really talk to. Dumbledore crossed his mind but he quickly
put that thought out. Perhaps
Snape? After all, he was head of
Slytherin House and had a certain fondness for him. Yes, maybe Snape could be trusted. He also knew, from his father's innuendo, that Snape sided with
Voldemort. Which, according to Lucius
Malfoy, was the right side. These days,
poor Draco wasn't sure which side was up, let alone "right."
While
Draco battled with his emotions a few cars away, Ron and Harry talked quietly
with Neville and Ginny. It was the
first time in six years that Hermione was not with them and each one felt her
absence with mingled loss and foreboding.
Neville had draped a comforting arm around Ginny, whose eyes, like Draco's,
had dark circles beneath them. "I
can't believe Sally-Anne. When I
visited her last week she told me flat out that her parents told her to stay
away from Hermione. After all the hours
Hermione spent tutoring her in Herbology!" Ginny started to cry angry, frustrated tears. Neville gently kissed the top of her head,
pulling her closer to him and rocked her gently.
Ron
clicked his tongue in disgust. "I
never did like that Perks kid, Gin.
It's no great loss to Hermione if she stays away. At least she won't have to waste her time
teaching that stupid git about bubotubers."
"I don't care about Sally-Anne Perks,
per se. It's how she acted that scared
me. As if Hermione was this awful
person. But she's not, and I
don't care one bit what anyone says…"
"But
Hermione'll care, Ginny," said Neville softly. "She'll care very much, although she'll pretend not to. I know how I felt, when my folks were at St.
Mungos. This is much worse…"
"It's
up to us as her real friends, then, to show her that we know she hasn't
changed," said Ron hotly.
"But
she has changed, Ron," said Harry.
"You know she has, from her letters. For better or worse, she's had to grow up pretty fast."
"I
just don't want her to bury herself in that damned library and never come
out!" blurted Ron.
Harry
was reminded of Sirius Black's message to them at the start of last year: Stick
Together. That adage seemed more vital
with each passing year.
The
Hogwarts Express churned in to the station and students piled into the waiting
carriages. Arriving at the castle, Ron
jostled and pushed his way through the throng of students who were filing
through the castle's open doors. He saw
Hermione standing on the great staircase, her eyes squinting through the
crowd. At last she spotted his fiery
red hair and a smile split wide her anxious face. He bounded up the stairs, two at a time, grabbed her and hugged
her fiercely. Feverish kisses followed,
some even landing on her laughing mouth.
"Good
to see you, too, Ron!" she smiled as he came up for air.
"Yeah,"
he replied. Words were unnecessary; his
enthusiasm spoke volumes.
Peeves
had a few choice ones, however.
"Kissy, kissy ickle sixies!" he jeered. "Aren't we sickening tonight?"
"Peeves!"
bellowed a voice laced with a stern Scottish brogue. "Out -
now!"
Peeves,
in perfect form, blew a loud raspberry at the approaching McGonagall, who
clucked rather maternally at the entwined pair. "That's enough of that, then. I believe you know where you're supposed to be?"
"In
the hall, Professor," grinned Ron, holding Hermione's hand firmly in his.
"Then
I suggest you get there, Mr. Weasley," retorted McGonagall, with a
suppressed smile.
"Yes,
ma'am." They followed her
instructions and walked hand-in-hand through the crowd to the Great Hall. Hermione noticed the students made way for
them; shied away would be a more appropriate description. If Ron saw it he didn't let on. He was too busy telling her how much he
missed her, what happened over the summer, how he'd missed her…
She
was glad to reach the Griffindor table to find Ginny, Neville and Harry. Kind faces, full of smiles. Ginny hugged her so hard she felt her ribs
creak. She sat down in the seat Ron
held out for her, beside Harry, who greeted her with a kiss on her cheek. Just as she had left him, six months
ago. It felt like six years.
Harry
studied her closely, although he tried to appear casual. "You doing allright, Hermione?"
"Okay,"
she replied tightly. "I'd be doing
a lot better if everyone wasn't staring at me."
Her
friends looked down at the table, or at their hands, or at each other. Hermione laughed. "I don't mean you lot.
I mean everyone else in this room."
Harry
cast his eyes over the Hogwarts' assembly.
Indeed, at each of the other tables, students were looking nervously at the
Griffindors. Many were whispering to
each other. Some seemed curious, others
downright hostile as they shook their heads and scowled. Harry sighed. It was going to be another tough year.
"Don't
worry, Hermione," he said, forcing himself to sound more optimistic than
he felt. "Once the year gets
started and they have other things to fret over, they'll forget."
"They
won't forget, Harry, and neither will I.
Ever."
His
deep green eyes met hers. "Trust
me, Hermione. I know something about
this. It won't seem as awful after
awhile."
She
sighed and raised her eyes to the jagged scar on his forehead. Her own scar, hidden beneath her robes,
spanned her ribcage. It throbbed
slightly. Voldemort had wounded them
more deeply than their souvenir scars, she realized. He had altered the entire course of their lives.
She
managed a feeble smile and answered their questions as best she could. How was her trip? Was Kyoto beautiful? Did
she have to eat sushi and octopus? Were
they slimy? Was the Lama really able to
levitate by focusing on his navel? How
was Sirius?
She
went into some length on the last question.
"Sirius is great. He sends
his regards. He and Professor Lupin
have been busy in Asia, contacting the Oriental Wizards Federation. At least, Professor Lupin was, before he and
Bill brought me home."
"How's
Bill?" asked Ginny eagerly. Ron
wished she hadn't.
"Bill's
terrific. He went to visit Fred and
George in Hogsmeade before he headed back East."
"I
wish he'd stayed to visit with us," Ginny sighed.
"I
don't," thought Ron, unconsciously clenching his fists.
Before
they could discuss the matter further, Professor Dumbledore stood and called
the assembly to order. "On behalf
of the Hogwarts faculty, let me welcome you back to another year of learning
and adventure. I hope it will be a
prosperous one for us all. And now, if
you would be so kind, please give your full attention to the estimable Sorting
Hat."
Said
Hat, which Professor McGonagall had placed on its four-legged stool before the
Assembly, made a bow and began its brisk melody: "Oh you may not think I'm pretty but don't judge on what you
see…"
After
its brief ditty the Hat joined Professor McGonagall in the important task of
sorting the first years, she reading aloud their names from a long scroll and
it shouting out the chosen house.
"Blot,
Theodore" - "Slytherin!"
"Caligulus,
Winifred" - "Slytherin!"
"Pleniford,
Patrice" - "Slytherin!"
"Poplaris,
Lombardy" - "Ravenclaw!"
"Sagittarius,
Ophelia" - "Griffindor!"
"Whipple,
Eustace" - "Hufflepuff!"
The
Hat sorted the twenty-odd students.
Harry was a bit disturbed; there seemed to be more Slytherins than
usual. Hermione, too, was disturbed. Many of the first years had pointed at their
table as they had filed in to be sorted.
She could almost hear them asking each other, "It that her?"
At
last Professor McGonagall removed the Sorting Hat and stool. Dumbledore stood. "Well then. Well
done and welcome. There are a few brief
announcements before we get on to the important task of easting. Firstly, Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you
that there are to be no exploding dungbombs within the castle walls. I would ask that you also be considerate of
the animals in the magizoo and use your dungbombs only on the North end of the
castle grounds." There were snickers of mirth at this. Dumbledore went on. "I am pleased to
announce the addition of a new course, to be taught by one of your favorite old
instructors. We welcome Professor
Lupin, who will be offering an Introduction to Aurorship. This is a mandatory class for sixth and
seventh years." Lupin stood and
nodded briefly, winking at the Griffindor table before resuming his seat.
Dumbledore
ignored the mixed response; he was well aware that many of his students feared
Lupin's werewolvery. He also knew that
there were forces far more formidable to be dealt with in the wizarding world,
hence Lupin's course. He
continued. "That, I believe,
concludes our business. And now, our
feast, please."
Hermione
was greatly relieved that he had not called attention to her return. As if it needed any. During the announcements she had cast an
uneasy eye over the assembly. Most were
focused respectfully on Dumbledore.
Except Draco Malfoy. She caught
him looking directly at her. She smiled
and nodded. To her astonishment he
grinned back, a bit shyly. And
winked. One eye, slightly.
At
last the feast began. Cries of delight
greeted the fully laden tables, which appeared on cue as Dumbledore took his
seat.
"I
understand the House Elves have formed a Union," Hermione said with
satisfaction as she helped herself to mashed potatoes.
Ron
grinned. Some things hadn't changed,
and he was glad of it.
After
the feast the students made their way to their houses. Despite the excitement around them, the friends
spent a rather quiet night in the Griffindor common room. They huddled together in a corner, catching
up with each other while Ron and Neville played a game of chess. Neville almost beat Ron, which the latter
attributed to being distracted. He'd spent
a great deal of time pulling Hermione close to his side and nuzzling her while
she talked with Ginny and Harry. Soon
Dean and Seamus joined them and the conversation turned to the upcoming
Quidditch season. The Weasley twins, as
well as Angelina and Alicia, had graduated, so there were four available slots
on the Griffindor team. There was a
great deal of conjecture as to who would step forward to fill the open slots.
At
last, Professor McGonagall made her rounds and reminded them they had a full day
on the morrow. Ron held Hermione back
until the Griffindor girls had made their way up the stairs. He kissed her then held her at arms' length. "Have I said how glad I am that you're
back?"
She
smiled. "Once or twice."
"Good." He kissed her again and did not notice
Professor McGonagall until she tapped him on his shoulder.
"Say
goodnight, Mr. Weasley."
Reluctantly
he let her go and watched as she climbed the stairs. Hermione saw him standing at the bottom of the steps, looking
up. She heard McGonagall's voice,
"Good NIGHT, Mr. Weasley!"
It
was good to be home.
Next: Castle Karkaroff
