THE PROPHECY OF FIRE
Chapter One: Letters
Written by Kouri no Ryuu
Author's notes: Just so you know ... This chapter is raw--and I mean, raw. No beta'ing, no editing (except for my own, of course), but I do think it's okay in terms of grammar and characterization and such.
If you don't like how I made Krum ... well ... Too bad. Sorry.
I also happen to think that what I did to Draco was pretty darn creative. Don't worry, he's not really a "good guy" and probably never will be. He will not also resemble DS!Draco in the slightest ... for all you hopefuls.
* * * * *
Dear Professor McGonagall,
I have my extra-credit assignment on Transmogrification Potions complete. Would you like for me to bring it on the first day of school or owl you with it earlier?
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger
* * * * *
Hermione Granger looked on in surprise as a tawny, feathered messenger dropped through her open window and deposited a package on her bed. "Oh ... aren't you Headmaster Dumbledore's owl?" she asked absentmindedly as she picked up the package and opened it.
The most recent issue of the Daily Prophet fell on her bed, along with a letter from ... the Headmaster? Hermione picked up the newspaper first, morbid curiousity taking hold. On the cover someone had put up a particularly horrible picture of Lucius Malfoy. It made her shudder.
"DEATH EATER KILLED IN HIS MANSION!" blared the headline in enormous shimmering letters, and Hermione stared at it. Then her eyes flicked to the front-page picture again. Lucius Malfoy, dead? Swiftly scanning the newspaper, she spotted phrases such as, "... Dark Mark found on corpse ..." "... Dungeon ..." "... Unforgivable Curses ..." "... Dark Mark hovering above the Estate ..." and "... Wife, Narcissa, opened up the Malfoy Estate for Auror inspection ..."
Hermione stared at it, shocked and at a complete loss for words. Stunned, she shook her head. She put the newspaper copy down, vowing to read it more thoroughly after she had read the letter. Hermione opened the envelope and unfolded two pieces of parchment. The first read:
Dear Miss Hermione Granger,
We at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry are pleased to inform you that you have been chosen as a Gryffindor prefect for the upcoming school year of 1995 to 1996.
To fully ensure your best performance as a prefect, we ask that you spend the remaining month of the summer vacation at Hogwarts. Of course, it is optional, but it is certainly preferable. During this time you will learn about the responsibilites of prefects.
We hope to hear from you soon.
Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts
"YES!" Hermione shouted, flinging the letter into the air. It landed askew on her bed next to the Daily Prophet edition.
Her mother, Leigh Granger, poked her head in through the door. "Is something wrong, dear?" she asked, her usually mild brown eyes curious, brushing flour-dusted hands on her apron.
"Nothing's wrong," Hermione assured her. "Something's right!" She noticed her mother's hands, covered in flour, and frowned in mock disapproval.
Leigh smiled. "Care to tell me?" She took notice of Hermione's amusement and grinned sheepishly. "I'm baking cookies from scratch for a treat," she stated, emphasizing the treat. "Don't expect this to happen often." She shook her right index finger in her daughter's face mock-sternly.
Hermione chortled. "Mum, you bake cookies practically once a year. I've never gotten used to it! I suppose it's semi-sweet chocolate, eh?"
"Right in one," Leigh responded with a smile. "Don't want to spoil our teeth, do we?" With a sudden pointed glance toward Hermione, Leigh said pleasantly, "Now what happened that's made you so happy?"
"I'm a Hogwarts prefect this year," she informed her mum, who beamed proudly.
"It's a good thing I'm baking these cookies!" Leigh exclaimed. "Now we really have something to celebrate!"
"There's just one problem," Hermione added with a sudden, worried frown. "Oh, no." She rushed over to her calender, flipped to August, and promptly moaned. Those two weeks were covered in hearts, written in red permanent marker. "Oh, no!" She promptly buried her face in her hands.
"What is it, dear?" Leigh wanted to know.
Hermione flopped onto her bed. "That's when I'm supposed to visit Viktor!" she wailed. "Those days exactly! I wish this wasn't happening ..."
Alarmed, Leigh saw that her daughter was about to burst into tears. "Dear, I'm sure Viktor will understand," she said, intending to be reassuring. "He knows that this sort of thing is important to you."
Hermione looked up with sudden determination, her arms crossed over her chest. "No; McGonagall will just have to understand. I swore that this year I wouldn't be so uptight and scholastically driven, so .... I guess ... I'll visit Viktor instead," she stammered out. It almost killed her to say that.
Although Leigh still looked concerned, she said, "Well ... if you're sure, dear, then that's all right ..." Her eyes jerked wide open and one hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, dear, I shouldn't have left the dough out on the counter ... You know how your father is with cookie dough ... Excuse me, dear, will you?" Leigh fled, Hermione smiling absently.
With that settled, she looked at the other two letters. One, she was fairly sure would turn out to be a list of school supplies and textbooks, and it did. But the other ...
Dear Miss Hermione Granger,
We at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry request that you do spend the remaining time at Hogwarts. You are the prefect that is closest to Harry Potter and we would appreciate your aid in retrieving him from his relatives.
More will be explained if you decide to help us.
Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts
Hermione stared at the parchment blankly. They want me to come to Hogwarts to help them rescue Harry from the Dursleys? she wondered. No, no, no! This can't happen ... I had it all planned out ...
She tried to sort it out logically in her mind. I could help Harry escape from that family; they're really awful. Definitely the better option. Oh, but I do want to visit Viktor. I already promised him I'd come.
A flash of pain rose from her mouth, and Hermione tasted something coppery. "Just what I needed," Hermione muttered out loud, "physical pain to go along with my dilemma." She examined her bitten lip with a mirror, still thinking.
"I ... I'll ... go with--Viktor," she said unsteadily. "Ron can help Harry, I suppose. I'll just ... just ... abandon Harry! I do hate difficult decisions." She nodded to herself, pacing around her bedroom.
"Viktor," she said to herself at last.
So she penned this reply:
Dear Professor McGonagall,
I'm very sorry, but I can't come and rescue Harry, although I really would like to. I have a foreign engagement I have to go to at that time, and I can't break it now. Why don't you see if Ron Weasley can do it? He's much better at "covert operations" and such than I am.
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger
She felt awful abandoning Harry like that, but there you go ... If she wanted a reputation as something more than a geeky bookworm sans the Coke-bottle glasses, she would have to work at it.
Then she picked up the front-page article about Lucius Malfoy.
At the Malfoy Estate, the body of patriarch Lucius Malfoy
was found in his dungeon, the Dark Mark found on his corpse. He
was found by a house-elf in a dungeon below the ground.
"We're not sure yet why Lucius was killed," Cornelius Fudge,
Minister of Magic, said. "We're still trying to find out why someone
would want to kill him."
The Dark Mark on his forearm, however, was found by Ministry
specialists to be genuine, leaving the magical community in shock.
"The Dark Mark was found on him, and it was real," Bertelloni
Montessori, Auror, said. "It matches the marks left on the bodies of
captured and executed known Death Eaters." Montessori studies
symbols and runes as a hobby.
Doctors at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies have
ascertained that Malfoy was most likely killed by the Killing Curse,
one of the three Unforgivable Curses.
"The body of Lucius Malfoy contained no marks, such as you would
expect from a Burning or Freezing Curse," Xavier Travers, doctor at
St. Mungo's, said. "On his face was an expression of pure fear, such
as is common with victims of the Killing Curse."
Soon after the house-elf had discovered Malfoy's body, passers-by
and neighbors woke up to find the Dark Mark hovering above the Estate.
"It was extremely frightening," Rosa Parkinson, a neighbor to
the Malfoys, said. "Waking up and finding that above someone's
house again!"
Malfoy's wife, Narcissa, opened up the Malfoy Estate for Auror
inspection, stating that she knew her husband was a Death Eater, but
that she had been threatened with her life if she ever revealed it
to anyone.
"Horrible as death may be," Narcissa said, "Lucius's death is
really rather convenient, as I never approved of what he was doing
and wish to leave all of that sort of thing in the past."
Absently Hermione wondered what Draco was doing.
* * * * *
A week later.
"Cho, honey, it's dinnertime!" Cho Chang's mother, Xian, called up the stairs. Her mother didn't usually call her "honey"--Cho intensely disliked endearing terms like that--but Cho didn't notice it.
"Not hungry," Cho answered, though it came out more of a mumble. Just leave me alone, she added silently. She stared out the window; rain pelted it relentlessly and ruthlessly. That--and the thunder and lightning--created a strange rhythm that oddly soothed her.
Cho heard the sharp tap-tap-tap of footsteps on the stairway leading to her bedroom. It disturbed her peaceful lull in serenity. "What was it you said?" asked her mother apprehensively as she opened Cho's bedroom door.
"I'm not hungry! Can't you hear me? I said that already," Cho repeated irascibly, her eyes wandering absently over her comfortable bedroom. The floor was carpeted in a soft shade of ivory and sea-green sheets and pillows adorned her wooden, four-poster bed. Several photographs hung on the walls, mostly her family. A single framed photo of Cedric stood on a nighttable beside her bed. Cho sighed and closed her eyes as they fell upon it.
Her mother bristled. "That's no way to talk to your mother, young lady," Mrs. Chang ordered sternly. "Besides, that's the excuse you've used all summer!"
"So?" muttered Cho. "It's not like I have anything to live for anymore, now that Voldemort murdered Cedric ..." She had long since lost any reluctance to say the Dark Lord's true name.
"You've got to pack to go to Hogwarts; you're a prefect," her mother attempted cautiously.
"So?" Cho repeated lifelessly. But before either could speak again, the doorbell rang out insistently behind them.
"Oh, dear me, I must answer that," Mrs. Chang said, fluttering her hands and leaving in a dramatic exit.
Cho sighed, her brown eyes lifeless. Once again, Cho heard the tap-tap-tap of footsteps on the stairs, but it sounded different.
"Look who's shown up!" Mrs. Chang beamed. "Ashleigh!" Cho glanced up, and yes, Ashleigh Parker--Cho Chang's best friend--stood in front of her, a bit soaked from the squall line outside. No doubt some great, intensive battle was happening on the other side of the world; Elemental battles usually caused violent thunderstorms elsewhere. "Well, I'll leave you two friends to talk, but mind, Ashleigh, Cho needs to eat dinner soon." With that, Xian Chang left.
Several moments of intensive, uncomfortable silence passed. "Don't tell me you're still sad about that Diggory?" Ashleigh asked, breaking the proverbial ice, her blue eyes innocent and wide.
That, at least, brought a rise out of Cho. Her head jerked up, no longer listless. "What?" she demanded, not quite believing what she had thought she'd heard.
Ashleigh sighed in exasperation and tucked her short, layered mahogony hair behind her ears. "You heard me," she said, her fingers drumming impatiently on Cho's writing desk. "I mean, I know you liked him, but can't you just get over him? I mean, the whole 'serious and deep' guy-type is so not hot anymore. Guys like Draco Malfoy are hot. Sexy--"
But Cho cut her "best friend" off as she jumped to her feet. "Leave. Now," she ordered, her eyes flaring in anger--no, in rage. "How dare you? I thought you were my friend! I loved--love--Cedric and I always will! Don't you ever forget that." Cho's breath came quickly, as did her softly angry words. "I will never get over--as you so crassly said it--him. He is a part of me and I am a part of him and nothing nor no one can stop that!"
Ashleigh stared at Cho in total disbelief. Slowly she stood up, keeping one perfectly manicured hand on her waist. Her words sounded icy and cold. "If that's the way you feel about your best friend of five years, fine. I'll go." Without another word, Cho's "best friend of five years" flounced out of her bedroom without so much as a backward glance.
Cho sank onto her bed and buried her face in her hands. Why doesn't anyone understand?
* * * * *
The next day.
An owl fluttered through Ron Weasley's window and he looked up, surprised. "School owl," he surmised wisely. "List of books and all ... bloody buggering annoying, that is."
But it carried well more than the normal four letters. In all, he counted six letters and a newspaper: the Daily Prophet. Do we even subscribe to them? he asked himself, but put it out of his mind. Absentmindedly Ron flicked through the letters, surprised to find not a letter for himself--but rather, three letters, all tied in red ribbon. Each bore his name and address in neat green script. Tearing open the first letter with a raggedly bitten fingernail, he read:
Dear Mr. Ron Weasley,
We at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry are pleased to inform you that you have been chosen as a Gryffindor prefect for the upcoming school year.
To fully insure your best performance as a prefect, you are invited to stay at Hogwarts. We at Hogwarts ask that you come spend the remaining time before school begins here.
We hope to hear from you soon.
Minerva McGonagall, deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts.
Ron's brown eyes widened in shock. "Mum? Mum! C'mere!"
At the sound of her youngest son's frantic voice, Mrs. Weasley rushed up the stairs to his room. "Ron! What on earth is happening?" She saw the letter on his bed and her eyes widened too--but this time in motherly pride. "Is that a prefect letter?" Her voice rose in excitement.
"Yep," Ron said in a monotone voice. "But I think they've made a mistake."
Mrs. Weasley looked at her son as she would look at someone who had just claimed to have eaten two hundred Chocolate Frogs and ended up with only cards of Newt Scamander. "Why would it be a mistake, Ron?"
"Well, it's not like I'm prefect material, am I?" he pointed out dolefully. "I'll bet this is for Fred or George and just got sent to me by accident or something."
"That's nonsense!" Mrs. Weasley snapped, picking up the letter. "Besides, it's addressed to you, it says Dear Mr. Ron Weasley on it. And Fred and George are even less prefect material," she added, wrinkling her nose. "Honestly. Of course it's for you!"
"D'you really think so?" Ron's voice held a thin thread of hope. "You really think it's mine?"
"Yes, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, and then suddenly seemed to realize what this meant and burst with pride and enveloped her son in an enormous--and quite tight--bear hug. "Oh, Ron!" The waterworks began.
"Mum, please don't strangle me before I get the chance to be a prefect ..."
* * * * *
Ron massaged his ribs. He had begun to think that he really wouldn't be able to breathe. "Ow," he muttered, casting a dark glance at the door through which Mrs. Weasley had finally left. "Does she have to do that every time something more exciting than a flying pig comes along?" He fell back onto his bed, but a crackling noise made him jerk back up again.
Turning around, he saw the other five letters on his bed, smushed and looking rather worse for the wear. Ron picked up the two other letters addressed to him. "What on earth could these be?" he wondered aloud. He dug his finger under the Hogwarts seal of one and flicked it off. Pulling out the parchment inside, he thought it very odd that he would have three letters, prefect or no.
Dear Mr. Ron Weasley, it ran,
We at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry request that you do spend the remainder of the summer holidays at the school. Your aid is needed in retrieving Harry Potter from his relatives.
More will be explained if you decide to help us.
Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress at Hogwarts
It was getting more odd all the time, thought Ron. First a prefect, then having to rescue Harry from that awful family he always complained about ...
Now he rather thought that it was one big Hogwarts conspiracy. What'll they want of me next? he thought suspiciously, staring daggers at the third letter. Dragon in the Forbidden Forest causing problems? Mind taking the job, Mr. Ron Weasley?
This is a list of school supplies and textbooks you will need as a fifth year for the upcoming school year of 1995 to 1996 ...
Well, duh, Ron thought, more than slightly annoyed with himself as his fantasies of a future career in killing Dark wizards as an Auror evaporated. They just accidently put it in different envelopes, you git.
But even as the thought this, he unfolded the letter all the way, and something fell out of it.
He picked it up. It was a knife with a silver blade, but with traces of color playing around the edges that had nothing to do with the lighting. He held the blade up a little and saw his reflection mirrored in it, distorted but recognizable.
What on earth? Ron thought, dumbfounded. Maybe they do want me to kill some dragon or something ...
He set it down on his nighttable, still eyeing it curiously.
* * * * *
Dear Mandy,
I've had the most miserable summer imaginable. I know I said I would lighten up and not be so uptight, but I didn't think it would turn out like this!
I went to Viktor's on Thursday, and I was supposed to stay there until school started. Well, it was loads of fun at first--he's got a huge manor and even fields for Muggle sports like tennis and such--until I caught him making out with a flake named Rose Ytterby. He didn't even know I was there. When I was packed and about to leave, he came to talk to me, wondering why on earth I would be leaving (hear sarcasm?) and I swear I almost slapped him! I was so angry. He said he has a harem every summer, but that he always loved one, and this year he said it was me. Hooray.
So I left by wizard taxi. Well, his mum is really sweet, anyway.
So now I've got to find a place to stay. No offense, but with four younger brothers and sisters, I don't feel like staying with you. My parents are out of town and even if they weren't, they'd say "I told you so" because they didn't want me staying with a guy for the summer anyway. I think I'll try and stay with the Weasleys. I've already sent them an owl explaining my situation. There should only be Ron, Ginny, and the twins staying (and they're a maybe; Fred said he'd try to visit his girlfriend Angelina and his friend Lee Jordan), so I guess I won't be much of a hindrance. And they're all around my age. But I still don't think Mrs. Weasley is entirely warm with me anymore, even when Harry said Rita Skeeter's article was fake.
Write back soon!
Love,
Hermione
* * * * *
Dear Mr and Mrs Weasley,
I need to ask a favor of you, but if I am overstepping my boundaries, please forgive me. Would it be all right if I stayed with your family for the remainder of the summer?
I was staying with Viktor Krum for part of the holidays, but after my personal lines had been stepped over, I am now looking for another place to stay. My parents are not at home; right now they're vacationing in Ireland, and cannot keep me.
I hope I am not imposing too much.
Sincerely,
Hermione Granger
* * * * *
Thanks to these reviewers: Gogirl, The Naiad, E.K.Nighthawk, herm, Mastermind, VyingQuill~, She's a Star, Xoni Newcomer, fawkesgirl, Guy Fawkes, Liza, Lily White, becki~, inscriffany, Evil*Fairy, Alphie, plz, trss, peachylaura, potter fan, LilyAyl, Romily McAran, Lee, Camden Elisabeth Stephano, KJ.
Please review! Feedback, good or bad, is always welcome. :)