Chapter 3: Hermione's Humble Abode
It was half past four by the time Harry and the Grangers arrived in Murrow, a small village in Cambridgeshire. Their car pulled into the driveway of a house named Iona. They all got out of the car and the Grangers helped Harry into the house with his stuff.
The inside of the house reminded Harry of the Dursley's house. It was very tidy and organised. Family photographs hung from the wall inside decorative frames and beautiful china and glass ornaments adorned the shelves. Harry knew the Grangers were not poor but they were not rich, they just believed in having a neat and pleasant house.
"Right, I'll go and start dinner," Mrs Granger said clasping her hands together. "Hermione, help Harry take his stuff to your room."
"Ok mum," Hermione replied, then Mr and Mrs Granger disappeared into the kitchen. Harry and Hermione each grabbed one end of the trunk and began to haul it upstairs.
"I can see now why it was unsuitable," Harry panted. "I'm sorry for making you have to come all that way just for me."
"That's all right," Hermione replied smiling. "Besides, that was only one of the unsuitable things about this arrangement."
"What's the other?" Harry asked curiously.
They reached the top of the stairs and Hermione opened a door to the right to reveal a room with bright yellow walls, this was Hermione's bedroom. A large wooden wardrobe stood against one of the walls filled with casual clothes as well as her Hogwarts robes. There were several shelves piled with her school stuff and a desk with a neat stack of already completed homework on top. Crookshanks, Hermione's cat, was curled up on the flowery bedcovers.
"The other," Hermione said, placing Harry's trunk on the floor, "is that you have to share my bedroom."
"What!?" cried Harry in alarm. Hermione giggled.
"Well you see there's only two bedrooms in the house, my parents and mine, so you'll have to sleep in here with me... Unless you want to sleep on the sofa downstairs." Harry stared bewilderingly at her. "Oh c'mon," she laughed. "It's not like I'm going to watch you get changed or anything."
*
Despite sleeping arrangements, Harry now felt extremely settled and relaxed in the Grangers home. He had just eaten a magnificent roast dinner of potatoes, chicken, and vegetables with a following dessert of chocolate ice cream and was now sitting in the freshly cut, beautifully blossoming garden. He was sitting on a slightly rusted swing that looked like had been Hermione's since she was very young. Hermione then came walking out of the house clutching something in her left hand.
"So... How are you?" she asked, stopping in front of Harry.
"Fine," Harry replied. "Why?"
"I just thought you'd be worried about Voldemort." Harry was quite surprised that Hermione was no longer afraid to mention his name.
"Well of course I am," Harry replied. "I haven't stopped thinking about it all summer. I know he hasn't made a move yet... but that makes me even more concerned. I'll bet he's plotting something right now... Something big." He looked at Hermione who just stared silently back. "What's that you've got there?" Harry asked, spotting the thing in Hermione's hand.
"A copy of the Daily Prophet," Hermione replied holding it up. "I kept it to show you because it's got a story in it about the Ministry of Magic. I'm sure it's linked to Voldemort."
"Yeah... Ron mentioned something about this," Harry said taking the paper. He unfolded it and was met with a disturbing headline on the front cover. "Murder mayhem at the Ministry," Harry read. "Last night, three employees of the Ministry of Magic were brutally murdered by a fellow colleague. In the early hours of the morning, Lucrid Valhalla, a now former member of the Ministry, went on a murderous massacre throughout the building, which caused the death of three men." Harry's eyes wandered to a picture of a man with evil, narrow eyes, spiky black hair and a calm and relaxed expression on his face.
"That's Lucrid," Hermione said. Harry said nothing, but merely continued reading.
"The minister for magic, Cornelius Fudge, had this to say, 'Lucrid Valhalla was a marvellous worker, one of the best. He had been with us for seven years and was always hard working and friendly. There was no reason anyone in the ministry could think of for him to do this and these unexplained actions have led to some very tragic losses. The place was in a state of utter disarray when I arrived in the morning.' The minister insists that nothing was stolen and that this incident has nothing to do with the rumours that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned. The ministry also denies that these rumours are true.
The three people who were tragically involved in this incident were Acle Nordelph, Rupert Pudprince, and Marcus Filby."
There was a picture of an old man with an egg shaped bald head. He was leering grouchily through his thick circular spectacles. Underneath there was more text.
"Acle Nordelph, age fifty-seven, was described as 'very hard working but not the most friendly of people. He had been working at the ministry for twenty-nine years before Lucrid cast the forbidden Avada Kedavra curse on him.'"
Underneath there was another picture of a young, thin, weedy looking man with untidy brown hair and pale skin. There was some more text to go with the picture.
"Rupert Pudprince, age twenty-eight, was described by his colleagues as 'an immensely hard worker but he was very quiet and usually kept to himself. He had only been with the ministry for a year before Lucrid got him. Rupert's ashes were found in his office after Lucrid cast a combustion spell on him.'"
There was one final picture near the bottom of the page. A picture of a tough, surly looking man. He was staring through squinted eyes and he had a blue bandana wrapped around his head. There was another section of text underneath containing information on this person, which Harry read out.
"Marcus Filby, age thirty-six. Described as being a bit rough, not too popular, and not immensely hard working, he had been working with the ministry for six years. He had been impaled to a wall by a magically crafted spike.
The ministry are now offering a reward for the capture of Lucrid but people are warned that he is very dangerous."
Harry quietly folded up the newspaper and handed it back to Hermione.
"It's gotta be connected to Voldemort... don't you think?" Hermione asked. "I mean, I know the ministry are denying but that's because Fudge is refusing to accept that Voldemort is back."
"I don't know," Harry replied. "It would make sense that Lucrid did this because his master has now returned to power but..."
"What?" Hermione asked eagerly.
"Well, when I faced Voldemort last term, I met all of the Death Eaters except for the two who didn't show up, Snape and Karkaroff. There was no sight or mention of this Lucrid Valhalla so that makes me wonder... maybe he didn't do it for Voldemort. Maybe he did it for himself... or for someone else."
"So Lucrid isn't a Death Eater?" Hermione asked sounding slightly shocked.
"No," Harry replied. "Argh! This doesn't make any sense!" he shouted angrily. "Lucrid killed three people in the ministry and just ran off. Nothing was stolen, he's not a Death Eater... so why'd he do it? Did he even have a motive?"
Hermione placed her hand on Harry's knee. He stared up at her and she smiled back.
"Don't think on it too much Harry," Hermione said soothingly. "Whatever Lucrid's up to, it doesn't concern Voldemort so you needn't worry." Harry felt a warm comfort inside and he smiled back and nodded. "C'mon, lets go inside."
Harry pushed himself off the swing and followed Hermione back into the house. As the pair stepped inside, they heard screaming from Hermione's parents.
"Mum!? Dad!?" cried Hermione. Hermione sprinted through the living room into the kitchen and Harry followed. Mr and Mrs Granger were both ducking and weaving, attempting to grab hold of something that was darting around their heads.
"Pigwidgeon!" yelled Harry.
Pigwidgeon was madly diving and swooping through the air and didn't having any intention of landing until Crookshanks bounded from the sideboard and pinned the miniature bird to the floor.
"Don't worry dad," Hermione said. "It's just Ron's owl."
"Yes, I know," Mr Granger breathed.
Harry took Pigwidgeon from under Crookshanks paw and removed the letter attached to his leg. He unrolled it and read it out.
Dear Harry and Hermione,
Mum and Dad are coming back on Friday so we can come and pick Harry up on Saturday if you want. You can come stay too Hermione. Write back soon.
Ron.
