::: 2 :::
DESTINY'S PREMONITIONS
"And I was the one who was lifting you up
When you thought your life had had enough
And when I get close, you turn away
There's nothing I can do or say."
--Hoobastank
Harry lay stunned for a moment, staring at the door. Finally, he pulled himself to his feet. They were sure to be watching him and he wasn't going to sit there gaping like an idiot. He would do something. He had to go somewhere, as it was obvious that he was not to be staying here any longer. So, he righted Hedwig's fallen cage and stroked her feathers through the bars in an attempt to calm her. She was still screeching in fright. Then, he grabbed his trunk and began to pull it along the sidewalk down Privet Drive, carrying Hedwig's cage in his other hand.
He tugged the trunk along several streets toward Mrs. Figg's. He was very grateful that she lived so near him-she'd help him find a place to stay. By the time he reached her house, he was panting from the effort of pulling the trunk. Had he not been in shape from Quidditch and all the other strenuous activity he'd done lately, he would not have been able to do it. He wiped some beads of sweat from his brow and started to pull the trunk up Mrs. Figg's walkway-only to be stopped a moment later by a bright red sign.
"FOR SALE-HIGH PEAK REALTORS." Below that, stamped on the bottom of the sign hastily, was the word "SOLD." Harry stared dumbly at the sign for a moment. Mrs. Figg had moved. She must have decided to move closer to Hogwarts when she'd gone to teach there last year. Harry sighed and tilted his face in desperation toward the sky. He felt no sadness at being kicked out of the Dursleys. He was completely confused as to why they'd done it in such a hurry, but confusion was as far as his emotions went where they were concerned. His current problem was where to go. He was on the streets with nowhere to go looking highly suspicious with his trunk and owl in a time when wizards were feared. Should anyone open his trunk, he'd be in a lot of trouble. He had Hedwig-he could send her to Ron or Hermione or Sirius. Unfortunately, it would take her a few days to get to any of them. Where would he go in the meantime?
Feeling uncomfortable being so out in the open-he knew the nosy occupants of this part of town were sure to be staring out their windows at him-he dragged his trunk to the end of the street where the small neighborhood park was. There were some trees and open fields. A baseball diamond and some swings and a sandbox. Harry settled for a thick patch of grass no one had mowed in a long time that had a shady tree over it. He dropped the trunk and set down Hedwig's cage, then sat down and leaned his back against the tree trunk. He watched a small boy throw sand from the sandbox into the air and giggle as it rained back down on his head. He saw two women sitting on a bench some distance away from the boy, talking animatedly and glancing over at him suspiciously every minute or so.
Harry ignored them and closed his eyes. He thought about every option he had. He had no money, so public transport was out. Walking the few blocks he had with the trunk had worn him out entirely, so walking was basically hopeless. Not to mention the fact that he didn't even know where he would walk or ride to. He didn't have Hermione's address, Dumbledore's sanctuary was deliberately hidden in a place Harry didn't know, and while he'd been to Ron's before, he was still uncertain of how to get there by Muggle means. He could use magic, but it would get him expelled or he could be caught by Muggles. The stakes were twice as high for that particular option.
He sighed and reached down to scratch his leg. When he ran his fingers over his pocket, it made an odd crunching sound. Harry remembered how he'd tucked Hermione's letter hastily into his pocket as Uncle Vernon had dragged him upstairs. The letter had her phone number on it! He jumped to his feet. He just needed to find a phone that didn't require money and then Hermione could come and pick him up! London wasn't too far in terms of driving. Hopefully, he'd only have to wait a few hours. It was a Sunday, so her parents probably wouldn't be working.
Now the trick was to find a phone. He sighed, deflated. There was no way he'd be able to find a telephone that didn't require money. He'd have to go into a shop and ask, yet people had been guarded about such things lately what with the wizard reports on the news-not that they needed to be, as he was probably the only wizard who had to seek out shop phones to use. He opened his trunk. He figured there might have been some time in the past when he'd tucked some Muggle money in there.
He tore the trunk apart-while being careful not to let the two nosy women spy any wizard supplies-and found two sickles. Wizard money would be no use to him. He sighed and closed it back up. He looked at the large trunk and Hedwig. If he were to go into a shop and ask to use a phone, he'd have to leave his wizard things there. However, he didn't trust that someone would get into the trunk or mess with his owl. Feeling torn, he remained where he sat and thought.
Despite the fact he'd slept well the night before, he still felt the lingering effects of past fatigue wearing on him. He felt himself nodding off. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head and stay awake. He had to find some way to reach Hermione. She was his only hope right now. His exhaustion was stronger than his logic, however, and he soon found himself going limp, his eyes closed. He succumbed to the blackness.
**************
Watching this whole ordeal from far away were two men. Albus Dumbledore and Sirius Black straightened from where they'd been leaning, looking into the bowl-like object that was not at all unlike Dumbledore's pensieve. Dumbledore frowned, in deep thought, still staring at the misty picture of the teenager in the park. Sirius, however, wasted no time.
"Dumbledore, I told you it wasn't a good idea to send him back to those . . . people, if you can even truly call them that. I accepted it at first-all the reasons I gave Harry had substance and logic. However, it wasn't the whole truth. I would have been happy keeping him here-it may have been more difficult for him to recover, but no more so than with the Dursleys. And now look at what they've done-they've thrown him out and he's stuck with nowhere to go! I'm going for him. I'll be back."
Dumbledore's hand, wrinkled and fragile by sight but strong and unyielding by touch caught his arm, stopping him cold. Sirius spun back around with a look daring Dumbledore to stop him. Dumbledore was his friend and his colleague, a man he trusted and was glad to work under. Sometimes, though, Sirius would not allow anyone to stop him, no matter whom that person might be. Now was one of these times.
"Sirius, we must not intervene," said Dumbledore quietly. He looked regretfully back at the bowl. "Harry will find a way out. It is certainly not the most dangerous of situations he's been in. He is one of the Two, Sirius. He is part of a team. Hopefully, if they are growing in strength, as they need to be, the other member will be aware of his situation. She will offer assistance."
"Dumbledore, I'm sorry for what I'm about to say, but I feel you're being quite naïve about all this!" cried Sirius angrily. "Harry is in danger. No, it's not the most dangerous of situations, but after what the Muggles just announced on the news, to be seen with an owl and old trunk like that will get him in a lot of trouble. He might be arrested by Muggles-he might be hurt. As for Hermione, I don't really think she's receiving much of anything. She's still far too detached from even herself-you think she'll be receptive to Harry? Not yet-hopefully, not at all. It will spare them both a lot of pain and suffering if they don't end up bonding the way they're supposed to."
"Harry is receiving her dreams, Sirius," said Dumbledore. "She too will begin to receive his dreams, or thoughts, or visions. It has begun. There is no stopping it. If they do not bond properly, that will do no more than allow their foes to gain ground over them."
"You said we'd help them in any way we can!" growled Sirius in frustration, glancing once more at Harry's sleeping form. "This would be helping!"
"We are helping by doing nothing." Dumbledore's voice was growing impatient. "We are helping by seeing how far along their process of bonding is. If by morning nothing has occurred, we will intervene. Now settle down, Sirius."
Sirius sat down, running his fingers nervously through his recently cut black hair and watching Harry with worry lines creasing his face. Dumbledore stood behind him, eyes focused on the bowl. He felt a discomforting sense of urgency, regret, and anger within him. It had indeed begun, a process not well known, a bond so rare it was commonly believed to be myth. It would lead the two on a journey of love, discovery, and friendship-as well as a harder journey of deceit, pain, and death, all of which they'd both already had their fair share of. The process of the bonding of the Chosen Two had begun. Yet neither of the Two had any idea.
**************
Hermione put her face in her hands as her parents repeated their reasoning for the tenth time since this argument had begun. They didn't understand-they couldn't understand. They couldn't see why she'd want to return to her school after all that had happened. She couldn't see why herself-she just felt it. That was enough for her. It wasn't enough for them.
She and her parents were sitting at their kitchen table. Her father had brought up the subject of her not returning to Hogwarts, finally, though it had been days since she'd overheard her parents' conversation. She was struggling with what to say. She hadn't spoken this much at one time for months, but she knew she had little choice in the matter now.
"Your logic isn't enough to stop me," she said quietly once her father had trailed off. "I want to go back. Hogwarts is the biggest part of my life! I wouldn't want to go back to a Muggle school. Muggle subjects have lost all interest for me."
"But after what happened last year-" began her mother once more.
Hermione snapped, unable to hold back any longer. "Mum, drop it! You think I don't know what happened? You think you need to keep reminding me? You don't! I'm well aware of everything that went on there. That's not enough to keep me away, so why is it such a problem for you? Voldemort's gone! The wizarding world is safe from him now."
"There are always others," said her father, shaking his head sadly. "The man who hurt you is still running around freely. We don't want to pull you away from Hogwarts-we know you love it there."
"Then don't! Just . . ." Hermione trailed off, gasping. A sudden pain was ripping through her skull. A film of red and white dots reared up in front of her eyes, masking her vision. Her hands went to her forehead and she closed her eyes in an attempt to clear her sight. When she opened them again, the white and red was still there. She was dimly aware of her parents saying her name. She had a sudden flash, a picture of Harry sitting under a tree with Hedwig in a cage beside him. This was all she managed to distinguish before her head stopped throbbing just as suddenly as it had begun.
"Are you all right?" asked her mother in a slightly panicky voice.
Hermione nodded her head, hardly even aware of her mother's words. She hadn't any time to think about it, though, before the pain was back again. It was not as bad as before, though still enough to make her wince. This time, there was no red obscuring her eyesight-only a wall of bright white. Her physical world faded around her. She couldn't hear anything, couldn't feel her parents' hands shaking her. She didn't fight it now-she was too curious. She had another vivid, realistic flash of picture-Harry's Uncle Vernon, the man she'd seen picking him up at Platform 9 ¾ in past years, dragging Harry down a flight of stairs and throwing him and his trunk out the door. She noticed a calendar hanging on a wall Vernon dragged Harry past. Something deep within her was aroused by this and quite suddenly she was looking at a close-up of the calendar. Today's date was circled. The pain in her skull suddenly roared with such intensity that she screamed without realizing it. No longer was she interested-now she was scared. She wanted it to end.
Startlingly, it did. Hermione's vision cleared again and the pain receded, leaving a dull throb where it had been. She felt weak and exhausted. She was surprised to find herself lying on her back on the linoleum kitchen floor, her mother's arms supporting her. She noticed her father standing some distance away at the kitchen phone, dialing numbers quickly.
"Dan! Don't call, she's waking up," her mother called over. Her father promptly dropped the phone and rushed over.
Hermione received the dreaded question-"What happened?" She didn't know. She could do no more than shake her head. She gladly relaxed into her mother's arms. She felt as though she'd run ten miles, then swam the same distance. Rest appealed to her greatly.
"You just started clutching your head and didn't respond," explained her father, his voice a little shaky. "You were shaking. You started to scream, then it just stopped."
Hermione nodded. "My head was hurting," she whispered, her eyes narrowed in confusion. "I don't remember screaming. I was barely aware of the pain until the end. I didn't know you were there. I saw . . ." She bit her lip. Should she tell them? It might just make them feel even more strongly about not sending her to Hogwarts.
"What did you see?" asked Mrs. Granger, running her hand through Hermione's hair.
She sighed and held up her hand in a gesture warning them to wait. She thought about everything she'd seen. Harry and his uncle . . . the date on the calendar. A crazy idea formed in her head. Had all that really happened? The more she thought about it, the more insane it sounded, while at the same time, it made clearer sense. She explained it to her mother and father, standing up and taking a seat in the chair she'd been sitting in before she'd unknowingly fallen. She still felt weak and tired, but it was wearing off a bit.
"Is this something wizards can do?" asked her father in response to her idea that Harry might really have been kicked out of his house.
Hermione shook her head, realizing the extent of her idea's unreliability. "No. I've never heard of it before. But I just have a feeling . . ."
"Contact him," suggested Mr. Granger reasonably. It was clear he didn't believe that anything she'd seen had actually taken place.
"I don't have an owl and I don't have his phone number," she said. "If we could go and see him, maybe . . ."
"Hermione, we can't go driving across the country because of this odd little vision of yours!" cried Mrs. Granger, sounding shocked Hermione would even suggest something like that. Hermione wasn't surprised at this reaction. This had happened before-in a way. She'd had waking nightmares before, where something would trigger a memory and she would go stiff and become unresponsive for a moment, remembering some horrible happening. Not like this though. This time was far different.
Mr. Granger shot his wife a look behind Hermione's back. "Do you know where he lives?" he asked his daughter gently.
"Surrey."
"Well, that's not too far. An hour's drive, perhaps," said Mr. Granger. "If you have his address, I suppose I could go and ask. Mind you, this entire thing sounds quite odd, but I believe you saw what you did. He's certainly helped you enough-the least we can do is follow up on this. Do you want to come?"
Hermione felt relieved that her father was willing to look into her vision. Insane as it sounded, she felt desperate to get to Harry. Something was wrong. She could feel it as strongly as if it were herself that was in trouble. She weighed her options. Go with her father and look for Harry or stay with her mother and continue their argument about Hogwarts. It wasn't a difficult decision.
Within ten minutes, she and her father had gotten into their red Subaru. Hermione clutched the scrap of paper with Harry address on it in one hand. She sat in the front passenger's seat, staring out the window silently, engulfed by the waves of her thoughts. As the trees sped past her, she thought hard about her vision. She was startled to admit to herself that strange and frightening as the vision had been, it had been a welcome diversion to her usual thoughts. Hermione felt deep within herself that the vision she'd seen had indeed happened. She didn't know how she'd become so certain in her thoughts, but she was. While that thought terrified her, it also intrigued her. Her emotions were quite conflicted on the topic.
Mr. Granger stayed quiet most of the ride, which Hermione was grateful for. It had been strange to speak as much as she already had that day-she was ready to withdraw once more into the silence she'd found comfort and solace in most of the summer. Mr. Granger was aware of this and did his best to allow his daughter to deal with her pain in whatever way worked for her-hard as it was on him to watch. He and Cecile had been trying to convince Hermione to see some type of a psychologist for quite some time now, but Hermione had refused adamantly. Mr. Granger was sad to realize that most of the real conversations that his daughter had been willing to have with him had been arguments.
It took them an hour and a half to reach Harry's neighborhood and that was mainly because they'd taken wrong turns several times. All they had was an address, rather than directions. They'd gotten help from a man at one point, which was, in all honestly, probably the only reason they found it at all. They located the house with the large number four outside of it and parked along the curb.
Mr. Granger unbuckled his seatbelt. He agreed with his wife in the sense that he didn't believe that any of Hermione's vision had really happened. However, he felt that if Hermione was actually willing to leave the house for the once, no matter the reason, it was something worth investing in. He looked to Hermione. "Do you want to come, or wait?"
Hermione bit her lip in thought. "I'm going on what I know from Harry. I think the Dursleys would be more likely to tell you what you want to know if it was only you," she said slowly. "They'd grow suspicious if I come, too, and if they suspect I'm a witch, they won't tell us anything. Ron tried to call Harry in his third year and told his Uncle Vernon that he was from Hogwarts. Harry's uncle told him Harry didn't live there." Hermione left out the part about Ron shouting. "However, I want to come." She got out of the car before her father could say anything.
She looked up at the Dursleys' house. The lawn was immaculate and well trimmed with flowers lining the walk up to the doorsteps. The house looked like it could belong to any respectable suburban family, but Hermione knew that the Dursleys were far from respectable. She followed her father up the walk and onto the steps, thinking hard for an excuse as to why they'd want to see Harry. She'd come up with nothing when the door was pulled open by a large, beefy, angry-looking man who glowered down at them-or, rather, down at her. Her father was possibly taller than he was, but not by much. She recognized the man immediately to be Harry's uncle. He was just as unpleasant as she remembered. Her search for excuses froze and she stared dumbly.
"Hello," said her father, giving the man a bright smile. "I'm Daniel-"
Hermione cut him off, knowing that it probably wasn't smart to say their last names-or her first name-in case Vernon recognized it. "And I'm Hermie," she said, using her most hated nickname. She winced inwardly. She'd hated that name since the first time she'd been called it. She continued on with her excuse-which she was coming up with as she went-not dwelling on it. "We're here to see a Mr. Harry Potter."
Her father looked down at her in confusion but she didn't look back. She had to take charge of this. Her father was unaware of how important it was that Vernon not know they were friends of Harry's.
Vernon's eyes narrowed menacingly. "Harry Potter? What business do you have with him?" He eyed her beadily, like a dog sizing up a challenging stray that was there to steal its bone.
"We're here to see him about a bit of unlawful magic," she said. She saw panic rise in Vernon's eyes at the word 'magic'. He took a step back, muttering about wizards showing up at his door. He paled considerably. Hermione ignored this, actually enjoying it vaguely. For all the things the Dursleys had done to her friend, they deserved a bit of terror. "We need to speak to him at once. This magic calls for his immediate expulsion from Hogwarts and possibly more severe punishments as well."
She said this to feed on Vernon's hatred for Harry. Harry had told her numerous times in the past that his uncle liked nothing more than to see Harry suffer. She figured that if he knew they were there to expel Harry from the one place he loved, he'd be more than willing to let them see him. Sure enough, there was an interested spark in Vernon's eyes, but he still appeared guarded.
"Why send someone so young?" he questioned.
"I'm Head Girl," she said simply, as she'd been anticipating this question. The way she saw it, Vernon would have no idea that Hogwarts would not send their Head Girl to be involved in such matters, but the title gave her more power than simply saying she was a student. She nodded to her father. "And he's Head of Harry's house. Can we see him, please?"
Vernon continued to eye them for a moment or two longer. Finally, he grunted. "He's not here," he admitted. "He left earlier."
"Left? Left how?" asked Hermione, a certainty in the pit of her stomach. Harry hadn't left at all. He'd been kicked out, just as Hermione had suspected.
"That's none of your business! He left, all right? Didn't want to stay here anymore, so he packed up and left. Now get out of here! I don't want any of your kind on my property-especially not now. Leave, or I'll call the police!" With that, he slammed the door. Before he did, though, Hermione's eyes caught a glimpse of something behind him: A calendar hanging on a wall by the stairs. The same calendar that she'd seen her in vision. She could see her father following her line of sight and his eyes widening, remembering what Hermione had said about a calendar. Then the door slammed shut, cutting off all sight.
They stood there silently for a moment. It was Hermione who moved first, turning and walking back down the walkway to where their car was parked. Her mind was alive with questions and confusion. She ignored it all for the time being. Over the past year she'd had a lot of practice in suspending all emotion. It came easily to her now and she did it frequently. She'd deal with all this later. First they had to find Harry.
Daniel was not as adept at suspending his disbelief as his daughter. By the time he snapped out of his stupor, Hermione was already opening the car door. He jogged after her, getting into the driver's seat. He looked over at her only to see her looking straight ahead as though nothing had happened. Her face was completely blank and calm. He sighed inwardly. He'd seen her do this before, detaching herself from all feeling. He hated to see it.
"Hermione," he said and she looked over at him. "Was that the calendar you saw in your . . . vision?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes. We need to look for the nearest park," she said calmly, looking straight ahead again.
Confused though he was, he started the car. Hermione had been right about this vision. It was likely she was right about the other as well. They drove in silence for about ten minutes, circling the neighborhood and looking for any parks that might be around there. Sure enough, they soon spotted a small park a few streets away. Hermione felt a stab of fear. Oh my God, she thought, her disbelief beginning to hit her. How can I do this? This isn't right, it isn't normal. Maybe this is all just some coincidence after all . . .
Her father pulled up along the curb again. Hermione scanned the park with her eyes, begging some higher power for the park to be devoid of Harry Potter. Her prayers were not answered. Her emotions were torn in two when she saw Harry laying asleep against a distant tree, next to his trunk and Hedwig. Part of her wished it not to be true, because seeing Harry meant that everything in her visions had been correct. The other part of her felt overjoyed at the sight of her friend. All she wanted to do was go to him, no matter how she'd found him.
"There he is," said her father in a slightly shaky tone. He looked at her. "You can go and get him. I guess he has been kicked out. I'm not going to leave the poor boy out there after all he did to help you-I wouldn't leave him even if he hadn't helped. He can come home with us." He avoided talking about how he'd been found.
Hermione nodded and opened the car door, surprised to find her knees to be slightly unsteady. Just days ago she'd been fearful of writing him and uncertain of having him call her. Now she was meeting him face to face after a very odd day. It wasn't the most ideal of circumstances. She shrugged that aside and started toward Harry.
A/n: Okay, that's chapter 4 (on ff.net, anyway; it's only the first half of chapter two on MW, but as I have to post in notepad due to computer problems, it will only let me post half the chapter at a time)! I know it was short and ended in an odd place, but I couldn't help that. Please review, guys-I got about thirteen reviews for the prologue and three for chapter one. Make my day and click that little button down there. It only takes a second or two.
Do you think Hermione's reactions to all this are believable? I have a tendency to doubt myself about such things, and I'd love to know your opinions on it. So far, I think this story will turn out to be about as long as the first, and I think I am going to make it a trilogy after all. I'm not sure though. Reviews might make me decide, though . . . :-)
DESTINY'S PREMONITIONS
"And I was the one who was lifting you up
When you thought your life had had enough
And when I get close, you turn away
There's nothing I can do or say."
--Hoobastank
Harry lay stunned for a moment, staring at the door. Finally, he pulled himself to his feet. They were sure to be watching him and he wasn't going to sit there gaping like an idiot. He would do something. He had to go somewhere, as it was obvious that he was not to be staying here any longer. So, he righted Hedwig's fallen cage and stroked her feathers through the bars in an attempt to calm her. She was still screeching in fright. Then, he grabbed his trunk and began to pull it along the sidewalk down Privet Drive, carrying Hedwig's cage in his other hand.
He tugged the trunk along several streets toward Mrs. Figg's. He was very grateful that she lived so near him-she'd help him find a place to stay. By the time he reached her house, he was panting from the effort of pulling the trunk. Had he not been in shape from Quidditch and all the other strenuous activity he'd done lately, he would not have been able to do it. He wiped some beads of sweat from his brow and started to pull the trunk up Mrs. Figg's walkway-only to be stopped a moment later by a bright red sign.
"FOR SALE-HIGH PEAK REALTORS." Below that, stamped on the bottom of the sign hastily, was the word "SOLD." Harry stared dumbly at the sign for a moment. Mrs. Figg had moved. She must have decided to move closer to Hogwarts when she'd gone to teach there last year. Harry sighed and tilted his face in desperation toward the sky. He felt no sadness at being kicked out of the Dursleys. He was completely confused as to why they'd done it in such a hurry, but confusion was as far as his emotions went where they were concerned. His current problem was where to go. He was on the streets with nowhere to go looking highly suspicious with his trunk and owl in a time when wizards were feared. Should anyone open his trunk, he'd be in a lot of trouble. He had Hedwig-he could send her to Ron or Hermione or Sirius. Unfortunately, it would take her a few days to get to any of them. Where would he go in the meantime?
Feeling uncomfortable being so out in the open-he knew the nosy occupants of this part of town were sure to be staring out their windows at him-he dragged his trunk to the end of the street where the small neighborhood park was. There were some trees and open fields. A baseball diamond and some swings and a sandbox. Harry settled for a thick patch of grass no one had mowed in a long time that had a shady tree over it. He dropped the trunk and set down Hedwig's cage, then sat down and leaned his back against the tree trunk. He watched a small boy throw sand from the sandbox into the air and giggle as it rained back down on his head. He saw two women sitting on a bench some distance away from the boy, talking animatedly and glancing over at him suspiciously every minute or so.
Harry ignored them and closed his eyes. He thought about every option he had. He had no money, so public transport was out. Walking the few blocks he had with the trunk had worn him out entirely, so walking was basically hopeless. Not to mention the fact that he didn't even know where he would walk or ride to. He didn't have Hermione's address, Dumbledore's sanctuary was deliberately hidden in a place Harry didn't know, and while he'd been to Ron's before, he was still uncertain of how to get there by Muggle means. He could use magic, but it would get him expelled or he could be caught by Muggles. The stakes were twice as high for that particular option.
He sighed and reached down to scratch his leg. When he ran his fingers over his pocket, it made an odd crunching sound. Harry remembered how he'd tucked Hermione's letter hastily into his pocket as Uncle Vernon had dragged him upstairs. The letter had her phone number on it! He jumped to his feet. He just needed to find a phone that didn't require money and then Hermione could come and pick him up! London wasn't too far in terms of driving. Hopefully, he'd only have to wait a few hours. It was a Sunday, so her parents probably wouldn't be working.
Now the trick was to find a phone. He sighed, deflated. There was no way he'd be able to find a telephone that didn't require money. He'd have to go into a shop and ask, yet people had been guarded about such things lately what with the wizard reports on the news-not that they needed to be, as he was probably the only wizard who had to seek out shop phones to use. He opened his trunk. He figured there might have been some time in the past when he'd tucked some Muggle money in there.
He tore the trunk apart-while being careful not to let the two nosy women spy any wizard supplies-and found two sickles. Wizard money would be no use to him. He sighed and closed it back up. He looked at the large trunk and Hedwig. If he were to go into a shop and ask to use a phone, he'd have to leave his wizard things there. However, he didn't trust that someone would get into the trunk or mess with his owl. Feeling torn, he remained where he sat and thought.
Despite the fact he'd slept well the night before, he still felt the lingering effects of past fatigue wearing on him. He felt himself nodding off. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head and stay awake. He had to find some way to reach Hermione. She was his only hope right now. His exhaustion was stronger than his logic, however, and he soon found himself going limp, his eyes closed. He succumbed to the blackness.
**************
Watching this whole ordeal from far away were two men. Albus Dumbledore and Sirius Black straightened from where they'd been leaning, looking into the bowl-like object that was not at all unlike Dumbledore's pensieve. Dumbledore frowned, in deep thought, still staring at the misty picture of the teenager in the park. Sirius, however, wasted no time.
"Dumbledore, I told you it wasn't a good idea to send him back to those . . . people, if you can even truly call them that. I accepted it at first-all the reasons I gave Harry had substance and logic. However, it wasn't the whole truth. I would have been happy keeping him here-it may have been more difficult for him to recover, but no more so than with the Dursleys. And now look at what they've done-they've thrown him out and he's stuck with nowhere to go! I'm going for him. I'll be back."
Dumbledore's hand, wrinkled and fragile by sight but strong and unyielding by touch caught his arm, stopping him cold. Sirius spun back around with a look daring Dumbledore to stop him. Dumbledore was his friend and his colleague, a man he trusted and was glad to work under. Sometimes, though, Sirius would not allow anyone to stop him, no matter whom that person might be. Now was one of these times.
"Sirius, we must not intervene," said Dumbledore quietly. He looked regretfully back at the bowl. "Harry will find a way out. It is certainly not the most dangerous of situations he's been in. He is one of the Two, Sirius. He is part of a team. Hopefully, if they are growing in strength, as they need to be, the other member will be aware of his situation. She will offer assistance."
"Dumbledore, I'm sorry for what I'm about to say, but I feel you're being quite naïve about all this!" cried Sirius angrily. "Harry is in danger. No, it's not the most dangerous of situations, but after what the Muggles just announced on the news, to be seen with an owl and old trunk like that will get him in a lot of trouble. He might be arrested by Muggles-he might be hurt. As for Hermione, I don't really think she's receiving much of anything. She's still far too detached from even herself-you think she'll be receptive to Harry? Not yet-hopefully, not at all. It will spare them both a lot of pain and suffering if they don't end up bonding the way they're supposed to."
"Harry is receiving her dreams, Sirius," said Dumbledore. "She too will begin to receive his dreams, or thoughts, or visions. It has begun. There is no stopping it. If they do not bond properly, that will do no more than allow their foes to gain ground over them."
"You said we'd help them in any way we can!" growled Sirius in frustration, glancing once more at Harry's sleeping form. "This would be helping!"
"We are helping by doing nothing." Dumbledore's voice was growing impatient. "We are helping by seeing how far along their process of bonding is. If by morning nothing has occurred, we will intervene. Now settle down, Sirius."
Sirius sat down, running his fingers nervously through his recently cut black hair and watching Harry with worry lines creasing his face. Dumbledore stood behind him, eyes focused on the bowl. He felt a discomforting sense of urgency, regret, and anger within him. It had indeed begun, a process not well known, a bond so rare it was commonly believed to be myth. It would lead the two on a journey of love, discovery, and friendship-as well as a harder journey of deceit, pain, and death, all of which they'd both already had their fair share of. The process of the bonding of the Chosen Two had begun. Yet neither of the Two had any idea.
**************
Hermione put her face in her hands as her parents repeated their reasoning for the tenth time since this argument had begun. They didn't understand-they couldn't understand. They couldn't see why she'd want to return to her school after all that had happened. She couldn't see why herself-she just felt it. That was enough for her. It wasn't enough for them.
She and her parents were sitting at their kitchen table. Her father had brought up the subject of her not returning to Hogwarts, finally, though it had been days since she'd overheard her parents' conversation. She was struggling with what to say. She hadn't spoken this much at one time for months, but she knew she had little choice in the matter now.
"Your logic isn't enough to stop me," she said quietly once her father had trailed off. "I want to go back. Hogwarts is the biggest part of my life! I wouldn't want to go back to a Muggle school. Muggle subjects have lost all interest for me."
"But after what happened last year-" began her mother once more.
Hermione snapped, unable to hold back any longer. "Mum, drop it! You think I don't know what happened? You think you need to keep reminding me? You don't! I'm well aware of everything that went on there. That's not enough to keep me away, so why is it such a problem for you? Voldemort's gone! The wizarding world is safe from him now."
"There are always others," said her father, shaking his head sadly. "The man who hurt you is still running around freely. We don't want to pull you away from Hogwarts-we know you love it there."
"Then don't! Just . . ." Hermione trailed off, gasping. A sudden pain was ripping through her skull. A film of red and white dots reared up in front of her eyes, masking her vision. Her hands went to her forehead and she closed her eyes in an attempt to clear her sight. When she opened them again, the white and red was still there. She was dimly aware of her parents saying her name. She had a sudden flash, a picture of Harry sitting under a tree with Hedwig in a cage beside him. This was all she managed to distinguish before her head stopped throbbing just as suddenly as it had begun.
"Are you all right?" asked her mother in a slightly panicky voice.
Hermione nodded her head, hardly even aware of her mother's words. She hadn't any time to think about it, though, before the pain was back again. It was not as bad as before, though still enough to make her wince. This time, there was no red obscuring her eyesight-only a wall of bright white. Her physical world faded around her. She couldn't hear anything, couldn't feel her parents' hands shaking her. She didn't fight it now-she was too curious. She had another vivid, realistic flash of picture-Harry's Uncle Vernon, the man she'd seen picking him up at Platform 9 ¾ in past years, dragging Harry down a flight of stairs and throwing him and his trunk out the door. She noticed a calendar hanging on a wall Vernon dragged Harry past. Something deep within her was aroused by this and quite suddenly she was looking at a close-up of the calendar. Today's date was circled. The pain in her skull suddenly roared with such intensity that she screamed without realizing it. No longer was she interested-now she was scared. She wanted it to end.
Startlingly, it did. Hermione's vision cleared again and the pain receded, leaving a dull throb where it had been. She felt weak and exhausted. She was surprised to find herself lying on her back on the linoleum kitchen floor, her mother's arms supporting her. She noticed her father standing some distance away at the kitchen phone, dialing numbers quickly.
"Dan! Don't call, she's waking up," her mother called over. Her father promptly dropped the phone and rushed over.
Hermione received the dreaded question-"What happened?" She didn't know. She could do no more than shake her head. She gladly relaxed into her mother's arms. She felt as though she'd run ten miles, then swam the same distance. Rest appealed to her greatly.
"You just started clutching your head and didn't respond," explained her father, his voice a little shaky. "You were shaking. You started to scream, then it just stopped."
Hermione nodded. "My head was hurting," she whispered, her eyes narrowed in confusion. "I don't remember screaming. I was barely aware of the pain until the end. I didn't know you were there. I saw . . ." She bit her lip. Should she tell them? It might just make them feel even more strongly about not sending her to Hogwarts.
"What did you see?" asked Mrs. Granger, running her hand through Hermione's hair.
She sighed and held up her hand in a gesture warning them to wait. She thought about everything she'd seen. Harry and his uncle . . . the date on the calendar. A crazy idea formed in her head. Had all that really happened? The more she thought about it, the more insane it sounded, while at the same time, it made clearer sense. She explained it to her mother and father, standing up and taking a seat in the chair she'd been sitting in before she'd unknowingly fallen. She still felt weak and tired, but it was wearing off a bit.
"Is this something wizards can do?" asked her father in response to her idea that Harry might really have been kicked out of his house.
Hermione shook her head, realizing the extent of her idea's unreliability. "No. I've never heard of it before. But I just have a feeling . . ."
"Contact him," suggested Mr. Granger reasonably. It was clear he didn't believe that anything she'd seen had actually taken place.
"I don't have an owl and I don't have his phone number," she said. "If we could go and see him, maybe . . ."
"Hermione, we can't go driving across the country because of this odd little vision of yours!" cried Mrs. Granger, sounding shocked Hermione would even suggest something like that. Hermione wasn't surprised at this reaction. This had happened before-in a way. She'd had waking nightmares before, where something would trigger a memory and she would go stiff and become unresponsive for a moment, remembering some horrible happening. Not like this though. This time was far different.
Mr. Granger shot his wife a look behind Hermione's back. "Do you know where he lives?" he asked his daughter gently.
"Surrey."
"Well, that's not too far. An hour's drive, perhaps," said Mr. Granger. "If you have his address, I suppose I could go and ask. Mind you, this entire thing sounds quite odd, but I believe you saw what you did. He's certainly helped you enough-the least we can do is follow up on this. Do you want to come?"
Hermione felt relieved that her father was willing to look into her vision. Insane as it sounded, she felt desperate to get to Harry. Something was wrong. She could feel it as strongly as if it were herself that was in trouble. She weighed her options. Go with her father and look for Harry or stay with her mother and continue their argument about Hogwarts. It wasn't a difficult decision.
Within ten minutes, she and her father had gotten into their red Subaru. Hermione clutched the scrap of paper with Harry address on it in one hand. She sat in the front passenger's seat, staring out the window silently, engulfed by the waves of her thoughts. As the trees sped past her, she thought hard about her vision. She was startled to admit to herself that strange and frightening as the vision had been, it had been a welcome diversion to her usual thoughts. Hermione felt deep within herself that the vision she'd seen had indeed happened. She didn't know how she'd become so certain in her thoughts, but she was. While that thought terrified her, it also intrigued her. Her emotions were quite conflicted on the topic.
Mr. Granger stayed quiet most of the ride, which Hermione was grateful for. It had been strange to speak as much as she already had that day-she was ready to withdraw once more into the silence she'd found comfort and solace in most of the summer. Mr. Granger was aware of this and did his best to allow his daughter to deal with her pain in whatever way worked for her-hard as it was on him to watch. He and Cecile had been trying to convince Hermione to see some type of a psychologist for quite some time now, but Hermione had refused adamantly. Mr. Granger was sad to realize that most of the real conversations that his daughter had been willing to have with him had been arguments.
It took them an hour and a half to reach Harry's neighborhood and that was mainly because they'd taken wrong turns several times. All they had was an address, rather than directions. They'd gotten help from a man at one point, which was, in all honestly, probably the only reason they found it at all. They located the house with the large number four outside of it and parked along the curb.
Mr. Granger unbuckled his seatbelt. He agreed with his wife in the sense that he didn't believe that any of Hermione's vision had really happened. However, he felt that if Hermione was actually willing to leave the house for the once, no matter the reason, it was something worth investing in. He looked to Hermione. "Do you want to come, or wait?"
Hermione bit her lip in thought. "I'm going on what I know from Harry. I think the Dursleys would be more likely to tell you what you want to know if it was only you," she said slowly. "They'd grow suspicious if I come, too, and if they suspect I'm a witch, they won't tell us anything. Ron tried to call Harry in his third year and told his Uncle Vernon that he was from Hogwarts. Harry's uncle told him Harry didn't live there." Hermione left out the part about Ron shouting. "However, I want to come." She got out of the car before her father could say anything.
She looked up at the Dursleys' house. The lawn was immaculate and well trimmed with flowers lining the walk up to the doorsteps. The house looked like it could belong to any respectable suburban family, but Hermione knew that the Dursleys were far from respectable. She followed her father up the walk and onto the steps, thinking hard for an excuse as to why they'd want to see Harry. She'd come up with nothing when the door was pulled open by a large, beefy, angry-looking man who glowered down at them-or, rather, down at her. Her father was possibly taller than he was, but not by much. She recognized the man immediately to be Harry's uncle. He was just as unpleasant as she remembered. Her search for excuses froze and she stared dumbly.
"Hello," said her father, giving the man a bright smile. "I'm Daniel-"
Hermione cut him off, knowing that it probably wasn't smart to say their last names-or her first name-in case Vernon recognized it. "And I'm Hermie," she said, using her most hated nickname. She winced inwardly. She'd hated that name since the first time she'd been called it. She continued on with her excuse-which she was coming up with as she went-not dwelling on it. "We're here to see a Mr. Harry Potter."
Her father looked down at her in confusion but she didn't look back. She had to take charge of this. Her father was unaware of how important it was that Vernon not know they were friends of Harry's.
Vernon's eyes narrowed menacingly. "Harry Potter? What business do you have with him?" He eyed her beadily, like a dog sizing up a challenging stray that was there to steal its bone.
"We're here to see him about a bit of unlawful magic," she said. She saw panic rise in Vernon's eyes at the word 'magic'. He took a step back, muttering about wizards showing up at his door. He paled considerably. Hermione ignored this, actually enjoying it vaguely. For all the things the Dursleys had done to her friend, they deserved a bit of terror. "We need to speak to him at once. This magic calls for his immediate expulsion from Hogwarts and possibly more severe punishments as well."
She said this to feed on Vernon's hatred for Harry. Harry had told her numerous times in the past that his uncle liked nothing more than to see Harry suffer. She figured that if he knew they were there to expel Harry from the one place he loved, he'd be more than willing to let them see him. Sure enough, there was an interested spark in Vernon's eyes, but he still appeared guarded.
"Why send someone so young?" he questioned.
"I'm Head Girl," she said simply, as she'd been anticipating this question. The way she saw it, Vernon would have no idea that Hogwarts would not send their Head Girl to be involved in such matters, but the title gave her more power than simply saying she was a student. She nodded to her father. "And he's Head of Harry's house. Can we see him, please?"
Vernon continued to eye them for a moment or two longer. Finally, he grunted. "He's not here," he admitted. "He left earlier."
"Left? Left how?" asked Hermione, a certainty in the pit of her stomach. Harry hadn't left at all. He'd been kicked out, just as Hermione had suspected.
"That's none of your business! He left, all right? Didn't want to stay here anymore, so he packed up and left. Now get out of here! I don't want any of your kind on my property-especially not now. Leave, or I'll call the police!" With that, he slammed the door. Before he did, though, Hermione's eyes caught a glimpse of something behind him: A calendar hanging on a wall by the stairs. The same calendar that she'd seen her in vision. She could see her father following her line of sight and his eyes widening, remembering what Hermione had said about a calendar. Then the door slammed shut, cutting off all sight.
They stood there silently for a moment. It was Hermione who moved first, turning and walking back down the walkway to where their car was parked. Her mind was alive with questions and confusion. She ignored it all for the time being. Over the past year she'd had a lot of practice in suspending all emotion. It came easily to her now and she did it frequently. She'd deal with all this later. First they had to find Harry.
Daniel was not as adept at suspending his disbelief as his daughter. By the time he snapped out of his stupor, Hermione was already opening the car door. He jogged after her, getting into the driver's seat. He looked over at her only to see her looking straight ahead as though nothing had happened. Her face was completely blank and calm. He sighed inwardly. He'd seen her do this before, detaching herself from all feeling. He hated to see it.
"Hermione," he said and she looked over at him. "Was that the calendar you saw in your . . . vision?"
Hermione nodded. "Yes. We need to look for the nearest park," she said calmly, looking straight ahead again.
Confused though he was, he started the car. Hermione had been right about this vision. It was likely she was right about the other as well. They drove in silence for about ten minutes, circling the neighborhood and looking for any parks that might be around there. Sure enough, they soon spotted a small park a few streets away. Hermione felt a stab of fear. Oh my God, she thought, her disbelief beginning to hit her. How can I do this? This isn't right, it isn't normal. Maybe this is all just some coincidence after all . . .
Her father pulled up along the curb again. Hermione scanned the park with her eyes, begging some higher power for the park to be devoid of Harry Potter. Her prayers were not answered. Her emotions were torn in two when she saw Harry laying asleep against a distant tree, next to his trunk and Hedwig. Part of her wished it not to be true, because seeing Harry meant that everything in her visions had been correct. The other part of her felt overjoyed at the sight of her friend. All she wanted to do was go to him, no matter how she'd found him.
"There he is," said her father in a slightly shaky tone. He looked at her. "You can go and get him. I guess he has been kicked out. I'm not going to leave the poor boy out there after all he did to help you-I wouldn't leave him even if he hadn't helped. He can come home with us." He avoided talking about how he'd been found.
Hermione nodded and opened the car door, surprised to find her knees to be slightly unsteady. Just days ago she'd been fearful of writing him and uncertain of having him call her. Now she was meeting him face to face after a very odd day. It wasn't the most ideal of circumstances. She shrugged that aside and started toward Harry.
A/n: Okay, that's chapter 4 (on ff.net, anyway; it's only the first half of chapter two on MW, but as I have to post in notepad due to computer problems, it will only let me post half the chapter at a time)! I know it was short and ended in an odd place, but I couldn't help that. Please review, guys-I got about thirteen reviews for the prologue and three for chapter one. Make my day and click that little button down there. It only takes a second or two.
Do you think Hermione's reactions to all this are believable? I have a tendency to doubt myself about such things, and I'd love to know your opinions on it. So far, I think this story will turn out to be about as long as the first, and I think I am going to make it a trilogy after all. I'm not sure though. Reviews might make me decide, though . . . :-)