A/n: Here is chapter six! Please read/review.
::: 3 :::
DESTINY'S ESCALATIONS
"Last time you fell and you hit hard
Your wounds have healed by now
But you still see your scars."
--Three Door Down
The sun dawned the next day upon two extremely weary and confused teenagers. Harry sat in his room, hand cramped, reading the letters he'd written over the course of the past several hours. He'd written them slowly. Once Hermione's parents had come back upstairs and went into their room, Harry and Hermione went between one another's rooms every now and then, to talk, or in Harry's case, to ask advice on letters. Harry was happy to see Hermione becoming more open to him. He'd just settled down to finish his letters on his own with no more distractions an hour ago. He'd gone in to ask Hermione how to spell a word to find her dozing peacefully on her bed, his book lying closed next to her and Crookshanks curled on her stomach.
Harry's first letter to Ron had been extremely easy to write. With his friend, he could talk and be open easily. He could call the Dursleys whatever he wanted and speak about the odd things happening to Hermione freely. It was harder with Sirius. It was more difficult to figure out the right ways to put things. It was the latter letter that had taken him the longest to write. He set Sirius's aside and glanced over Ron's before folding it neatly.
Ron,
How've you been? I'm writing to tell you many things. To begin, I'll
say that you can stop bugging your mum about letting me stay over. I'm
currently residing with Hermione. Why? Because for some odd and un-
known reason, the Dursleys threw me out. Absolutely no warning. I was
just standing in the kitchen and Uncle Vernon appears, drags me up the
stairs, then drags me and all my stuff back down the stairs and throws me
outside. It's probably the best thing the Dursleys have ever done for me.
I'll have to remember to write a thank-you note.
Hermione found me and this is when things get weird. Apparently, she
knew the Dursleys were going to throw me out because she had this vision.
The vision led her right to the park where she found me. To top it all off, we
are both having the same nightmares at the same times. Needless to say,
this is all extremely unsettling. I'm writing to Sirius about it. Hopefully him
or Dumbledore will have some explanation.
Well, I hope your summer's going better than mine. Maybe I'll see you
soon.
--Harry
Harry nodded to himself and folded the letter up, deciding it was satisfactory. There were a few conventional errors, but Harry ignored them-he was only sending it to Ron after all. Ron wouldn't give a garden gnome whether or not Harry had spelled everything right. He doubted Ron would catch any mistakes he might have made anyway.
He turned his focus to Sirius's letter, the more difficult of the two. He'd already edited this one and scanned it again, more slowly than he had Ron's.
Dear Sirius,
The Dursleys have kicked me out. I'm living with Hermione right now, and
her parents say it's all right if I remain here for the duration of the summer. I'm
sorry to say it, but I told you it was a bad idea to send me to them! Besides that,
Hermione and I are dealing with being together just fine, so you need not worry
about that.
I do have a question, though. Hermione's having these odd visions-she
said she saw the Dursleys kick me out during one of these. That's how she
found me in the park afterwards. We're also having the same nightmares at the
same times. Care to shed some light on the situation? Does Dumbledore?
Thanks,
Harry
Harry shrugged, feeling that though it wasn't his best work, it would suffice. He was, after all, sleep deprived. Writing didn't come easily to him at the best of times-let alone after a whole night without sleep. Besides that, he didn't want to sound too worried, and he came off sounding pretty passive and unruffled in the letter. He tied both notes to Hedwig's leg and told her to whom they went. She hooted reassuringly and nipped his finger affectionately before swooping out Harry's window and into the gray sky of dawn.
He settled himself down on his bed once more and lay staring at the ceiling for several minutes, contemplating the events of the past two days. So many questions remained. Why had the Dursleys kicked him out so suddenly and without notice? What was going on with Hermione? Why was he the only one Hermione could talk to? Hopefully the days ahead would bring answers to at least a few of these.
He heard footsteps outside the door and a man's loud yawn. Harry glanced at his watch. Ten past seven. Hermione's parents were getting up. Harry struggled wearily to his feet and stumbled over to his trunk. The fatigue that he'd been fighting for so many hours was catching up to him and his eyelids felt heavy. His every movement was slow and groggy. Seeing his own haphazard movement in the small mirror that hung over the dresser, he had to admit that he somewhat resembled what Crabbe and Goyle looked like on any given day.
Harry pulled on some baggy jeans and a large t-shirt and attempted to use his fingers to make his hair lay flat and straight. It had grown very long over the past few months and for the first time since Harry could remember, he was actually beginning to see it do what he wanted it to. It no longer stuck out in every direction, instead staying flat to his head for the most part. It was a welcome change.
Once he'd slipped on his socks, he walked down the stairs, feet dragging. He found the Grangers where he'd left them the night before-in the kitchen. Mr. Granger was squinting wearily through small reading glasses at the newspaper and Mrs. Granger was setting out some eggs. Both appeared quite stunned to see him appear there and he began to feel a bit self-conscious. Normally he was ignored when he walked into a room, not stared at.
"Harry!" cried Mrs. Granger. "Oh, dear, you don't have to be up so early. Head on back up to bed if you're still tired."
Mr. Granger looked at Harry and gave him a small smile. "You didn't sleep last night," he stated as though it were the most normal thing in the world. Harry shook his head a bit sheepishly. "And Hermione? I suppose she's still up in her room pretending to be asleep as well? I doubt she's gotten a full night's sleep in months." Mr. Granger's tone had changed from mildly amused to wistful.
"Actually, she dozed off sometime around five a.m.," stated Harry. "I imagine she's still asleep, with Crookshanks right on top of her. It's a sight that crosses between cute and hilarious. It's rather funny to see that devil cat curled up on top of her like any regular cat. It actually looks peaceful for once. I couldn't fall asleep, so I just decided to wake up. The Dursleys would normally force me up around this time anyway. Not that they've had to this summer-I can assure you I've been getting no more sleep than Hermione has."
Harry helped Mrs. Granger prepare breakfast until Hermione arrived sometime around nine. She looked tired, but oddly relaxed, quite the contrary to how she'd looked last night-tense and jumpy. She noticed that the circles under Harry's eyes were so dark they looked black and every part of him seemed to ooze exhaustion. "You look terrible," she told him good-naturedly.
"And I can assure you, you look no better," said Harry cheerfully, though he was at a loss to explain where his sudden burst of calm happiness came from. Feeling a sudden urge to do what he'd done last night and make her laugh, he flicked his wrist and tossed the pancake he'd been cooking high into the air. He made a big show of being terrified he was about to drop it and managing to catch it at the last second.
Hermione had to smile at Harry's goofy mood as he flipped the pancakes in the pan over the stove. "Stop impersonating Fred and George. It doesn't become you," she teased. She was completely unaware of the shocked looks she was getting from her parents.
"Hermione, you do seem better today," said her mother in surprise, smiling at her daughter.
Harry watched as Hermione's defensive barriers seemed to reconstruct in seconds. Her smile vanished and she sat down across from her father, shrugging a little. "I guess," she muttered.
Just as fast as Harry's good mood had come, it disappeared, leaving him feeling strangely hollow. It seemed that he was the only one Hermione was willing to show any emotion to. He was the only one she would talk to. Thinking about it, that did make some sort of sense. He had been right beside her for much of her ordeal. It made sense that she'd want someone who understood. It still hurt Harry to see her revert back to the quiet shell he'd managed to bring her out of.
A heavy, tense atmosphere hung over them all as they ate their breakfast. Hermione finished and announced she was going back upstairs. Harry washed his hands and followed her a few minutes later. He knocked on her door and entered when she allowed him to. She was just opening the book she'd borrowed from him.
"Hey," he said casually, though it felt horribly insignificant.
"Hello," she replied, not really looking at him.
"Okay, I'll cut to the chase, Herm," he said, making her look up. "Are you going to spend your life sitting up here? It's a nice day out. Don't you want to go and do something? Let's face it, there's not much to do in here."
Hermione appeared torn. She looked from him to her window and back again. "I don't know," she murmured. "I'm sort of interested in this book and . . . it is summer, there will be other nice days . . ."
"The book can wait just as much as the day can. You'll have plenty of time to read, but the day won't last forever. And the book will stay the same-there may be other days, but none will be exactly like this one."
"And what's so special about this one?" asked Hermione.
"How will we know unless we go and find out?" countered Harry.
He could see she was beginning to relent, but it appeared she wasn't going to give up this fight without throwing out every possible excuse for why she shouldn't go. "Be that as it may, we need to study," she stated matter-of-factly. "O.W.L.s take place just two weeks after we arrive at Hogwarts. We can't fail them! We'll be forced back to fifth year."
Harry laughed and rolled his eyes. "Give it a rest, Hermione. We don't go back to Hogwarts for two months. Two months! And it's not as though we've got other homework to conflict with studying. Be honest-have you studied at all before now?"
Hermione shook her head. "That's the point!"
Harry just raised his eyebrows at her. For a moment, the two stared at each other, Harry with what he hoped to be a cute, begging expression on his face and Hermione with a torn, uncertain look on hers. Finally, Hermione slammed the book shut next to her with a loud clap, making Crookshanks jump. "Oh, fine!" she agreed, her tone annoyed, but her face relaying a slight smile. "But if we fail our O.W.L.s because you wanted a field day, I will never forgive you."
Harry snorted. "You're not in danger of failing. You could not study at all and still manage passing marks. That's just the way you are. It's me who'll get thrown back. So come on."
Hermione stood and tucked her wand into her deep pocket, leaving only the barest tip exposed, which was promptly covered by her shirt. She muttered about Harry missing the point, making his smile widen. He wasn't sure how he was doing it, but somehow, Hermione seemed to be returning to herself before his eyes. He could still see a jaded, haunted look in her eyes, not too different the one he saw in Sirius's. However, he somehow had an odd effect on her-whenever he was around, she seemed better, a lot like her old self. She was so different when she was around her parents-quiet and withdrawn. He felt a nice sensation whenever he was in her company as well. Though he'd never taken everything that had happened as hard as she had, and he'd managed to return to relatively normal after a few weeks, he'd never been completely the same. The memories haunted him, changing him subtly whether he felt it or not. Being around Hermione made him feel happy and lighthearted-those were two things he'd certainly never felt since leaving Hogwarts.
Hermione was already dressed so the two slipped their shoes on and headed down the stairs. When they went to tell her parents they were leaving for a while, he could feel the change in Hermione almost as though it were he himself that were changing. He could feel her close up like a flower in the dark. Her parents appeared even more shocked than they had that morning when Harry announced they were going out.
The day outside was as beautiful as the view from the window had promised. The sun shone merrily down, making it warm, but not hot. A gentle breeze lapped at their faces, blowing their hair in wispy storms around their faces. The sky was bright blue, with no clouds in sight, not even fluffy white ones. Harry and Hermione walked in silence, but it was a companionable silence much different from the one they'd experienced at breakfast that morning. Harry felt all his worries abandon him, leaving him with a light, free feeling.
He wasn't sure what made him do it, but before he could stop himself, he took Hermione's hand. A moment later he felt a few of his worries return and suddenly wanted his smack himself. Was he insane? Yes, he still liked her-now more than ever, probably. But now wasn't the time to show that, not when she was still hurting. In the midst of all these thoughts questions screaming inside his brain, it took him a while to notice Hermione had not pulled away.
"So," said Harry, breaking the easy silence, "are you still capable of saying that you'd rather be studying?"
"This is nice," she relented, not really answering his question directly. Harry could see the answer written on her face, though, deep within her blissful expression. "I'm glad I'm out in the sunshine again."
They lapsed once more into the silence which both felt more comfortable with. They had no destination. They were about to pass the park when Harry stopped, looking in. He looked back at Hermione and shrugged. "Want to go there?"
"I like it here," she agreed, but she was eyeing him oddly. With a hint of amusement, she said, "I just thought you'd had enough of parks yesterday."
Harry shrugged again. "Well, it's better than the street. Let's go there, if you want to."
Hermione agreed and the two headed into the park. It was much larger than the park in which he'd fallen asleep the previous day. There was a baseball diamond and some elaborate playing structures for younger kids. There was also a pond some ways in, to which Hermione led Harry. It was surrounded by circular bushes with a small entrance. The pond was clear and cool with colorful stones in the bottom. There was a bench on one side and Harry noticed a slight smile on Hermione's face as she began to speak.
"This is where I come sometimes," she said. "It's been my favorite spot since I was little. We've lived here all my life and I discovered this when I was eight, I think."
"It's nice," agreed Harry. "I would definitely not object to spending my time here. Too bad I didn't have one like this over by the Dursleys-I'd have spent a lot of time there." He laughed at the concerned expression on her face as they both sat down on the bench. "Don't worry about me. The Dursleys were awful, yeah, but it's over now. They've kicked me out-which has been my dearest wish for as long as I can remember. I never have to go back. Best birthday present I've ever gotten!"
Hermione nodded and then seemed to realize something. "Your birthday! It's only in a couple of weeks, right?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah." He shrugged. "Don't bother doing anything about it. Your family has done more than enough for me already. If anything, I should be throwing you the party." He quieted and decided to change the subject. "We've talked about the Dursleys enough, as far as I'm concerned. I intend to forget them as promptly as possible. What have you been doing this summer?"
"Nothing, really," said Hermione, smile vanishing. Her eyes were focused on a small, buzzing dragonfly that hovered over the surface of the pond. She bit her lip, apparently conflicted about something. Harry watched silently, allowing her time to consider whatever was troubling her. Finally, she looked over to him. "To be honest, Harry, I've rarely said a word since the summer began. I've hardly left my room. Everything that used to seem normal suddenly seems horribly inadequate. It's like I'm seeing the world in a completely different light. I haven't been this open with anyone in months. I don't know what it is about you, Harry, but I can talk to you, whereas I can't to anyone else. I still feel different, but it helps that you're here. It helps more than you can know."
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by the arrival of two people in the small clearing. He stopped for the sake of not wanting to say anything in front of strangers. He noticed the two people for the first time. The men were tall and tough looking, with spiked hair and chains. They looked to be about nineteen. One was holding a switchblade-and was heading right for Harry and Hermione.
Harry jumped to his feet and stood in front of Hermione, who was now rising to her feet as well. Harry felt small and weak without his wand. The boy holding the knife didn't stop and continued forward. He grabbed Harry and shoved him to the ground. The other boy did the same to Hermione.
Harry was unsure of what to think. Thoughts chased themselves around his brain as he struggled and yelled. He was cut off abruptly when he felt the cold steel of the knife against the back of his neck. He froze.
A laugh came from behind him. "That's right, four-eyes, stop if you want to live," he said, a distinct American accent tinting his words. "Just tell me if you got any cash and we'll be on our way."
"We don't have anything!" cried Harry. He was afraid, but he fought the fear down, knowing that panicking could not help him. "Check if you want, but you won't find anything."
"That I will," snapped the boy, jerking Harry upward so that he was now on his knees. The boy felt his pockets, but, true to Harry's word, found nothing. He swore and shoved Harry forward. "Paul, check the girl," he snarled, sounding very angry.
"Leave her alone," growled Harry, "she hasn't got anything either! We were taking a walk-we didn't come loaded."
"Don't get smart," he snarled. "If you're lying, I'll kill her, so you might want to rephrase that if you are."
Harry remained silent, his heart thudding in his chest. He couldn't see Hermione from his current position, but knew the second boy was going through the same routine with her-checking all her pockets for money.
"What's this?"
Harry jerked his head over, confused at what had been found. The boy holding him was too distracted by his partner's findings to stop Harry from looking. Harry felt his heart stop and could see the horrified look on Hermione's face. The boy was holding her wand.
"Now why would a teenage girl carry a stick in her pocket, but not any cash?" snarled the boy holding the wand, speaking with no accent.
The boy holding Harry shoved him to the ground. Harry was on his feet in an instant as the boy crossed over to his friend. He took the wand and examined it. Harry watched as realization dawned. "Paul, this is no stick. It's one of the things those freaks on the news have been using to kill people. She's one of the freaks!" His head swiveled to look at Harry, his eyes narrowed. "And so's he. Only one thing to do with freaks like you." He pulled out the switchblade.
Harry could only react as Paul made a motion to slash Hermione with the knife that he had positioned at her throat and as the boy holding Hermione's wand came at him. He leaped, tackling Paul to the ground. His knife flew out of his hand and Harry suddenly found himself in the middle of a ball of fists. Paul was attacking him brutally and it was all Harry could do to defend himself. Physical fighting was not his strong point and he wished desperately for his own wand.
Hermione jumped to her feet the second Harry had tackled her attacker. The other boy, the one that had been holding Harry came for her, but she dodged. In one swift movement, she had grabbed her wand from his hand and pointed it at him. "Stop," she called, her voice echoing powerfully over them all.
Paul detached himself from Harry and went to stand by his partner. Harry continued to lay on the ground, coughing. He was bloodied, but watched the scene before him as though he didn't notice at all.
"Get out," ordered Hermione. "And don't tell a soul what happened here."
"You wouldn't," dared the first boy, stepping forward. He still held the knife. "You're too chicken."
Hermione's hand was steady and Harry saw a look in her eyes that he'd never seen before. He knew she would hurt him-and badly. Before, every time they'd been in a fight with magic, Hermione had been hesitant to use offensive spells. He'd never seen her look so serious.
"One more step and you'll find out," Hermione warned. "Drop the knife."
He laughed and rushed her suddenly. "Jevolosia!" she cried and the boy went soaring backwards just as quickly as he had come forward. He flew high over the bushes and continued on until he hit the trunk of a tree and slid down to the ground, moaning. Paul looked at her in terror and took off running, pushing his way right through the bushes to escape.
Hermione's hand slowly lowered as she watched him retreat, pulling an injured friend with him. When she was certain they would stay away, she came to Harry's side. He was already standing and backing towards the exit of the circular stand of shrubs.
"Are you okay?" she asked. He had a bruise forming on his left cheek and a bloody nose, but he didn't appear too badly hurt.
"Yeah," he muttered, still staring at where the boys had disappeared. "Let's get out of here. Someone was bound to have seen that and this is definitely not a good time to be seen doing magic by Muggles."
Hermione blanched. "You're right," she whispered. "And I did magic outside of school. What if they expel me?"
"Not now," said Harry, grabbing her arm and pulling her along. "We can't talk now. We have to get out of this park."
Several people stared at them as they ran through the park, some running away and Harry knew in that instant that they had indeed been seen. He felt like he'd swallowed a rock that was now weighing him down from the pit of his stomach. Once they were back on the sidewalk, they continued to run for a couple of blocks before slowing to a walk.
Harry looked over at Hermione. She was still very white and was holding her wand in her hands very tightly, staring at it. He noticed for the first time the line of blood specks on her neck. "You're bleeding," he said, looking closer.
She put her hand to her throat and pulled it away again. Sure enough, there was a small amount of red on it. For the first time, she noticed it was stinging. "I suppose he managed to cut me a little bit before you tackled him," she said. "It's not deep, just a scratch." He could see tears in her eyes as she looked to him. "How can Muggles act so horribly towards us?" she asked. "They don't even give us a chance . . ."
"Yeah," said Harry bitterly.
"They don't just discriminate-they try to kill us!" she sobbed, and he noticed she was shaking. Her first time really outside the house all summer and this happens, thought Harry sadly. This should certainly encourage her to go out more often.
Harry could think of nothing to say to her horribly accurate statement, instead choosing to put his arm around her and walk silently back to her house. They walked slowly, but reached her house quickly.
Harry closed the door quietly when they entered, but in the warm silence of the day, the door closing echoed loudly despite his efforts. Mr. Granger appeared a second later, wearing a smile that vanished the moment he saw his daughter's shaken state and Harry's bloodied face. He rushed forward. "What happened?" he asked anxiously, looking his Hermione over carefully and noticing the blood on her neck. "Are you okay?"
Harry cast a weary look at the inviting couch, but remained standing. He was covered in dirt and grass and didn't want to soil their living room. Instead, he remained standing as he told the tale.
When he'd finished, Mr. Granger wore a look of anger. "Bloody teenage gang members," he growled, gently pushing Hermione onto a seat by the counter and leading Harry firmly to the sink, dampening a rag to wipe off the drying blood.
"It's not just the gang members," muttered Harry, taking the rag from Hermione's father and beginning to clean himself up. "It's Muggles in general-no offense to you, of course. They're attacking us. A lot of wizards have been hurt or killed by Muggles."
Mr. Granger nodded grimly. He was now sitting by Hermione and helping her get the blood off her neck. "I'm aware. I've been seeing the news reports. It's disgusting. Our television went out a few days ago-that's where Cecile is now, in fact, getting the part we need for it. It's been a nice break. We don't give anyone a chance. It's embarrassing to say I'm one of them."
"You're not," insisted Hermione, speaking up for the first time. "You may be a Muggle, but you aren't one of them because you aren't going around and attacking and killing witches and wizards. That makes a difference, Dad."
"Doesn't feel like it," said Daniel Granger sorrowfully, squeezing Hermione's shoulder. "But I have to say one thing-I'm beginning to think even your mother will be reconsidering not letting you go back to Hogwarts. Not after something like this. You were right, sweetheart-it is just as dangerous here."
Harry, though he had no idea what was going on in this respect, saw the flash of hope in Hermione's eyes and inferred the point of this conversation. He rushed to add another defense in Hermione's favor. "Especially if we make the evening news, which I have a terrible feeling we will."
Hermione moaned at this thought and put her face in her arms. "If I'm not expelled already," she muttered, her words so muffled they were barely audible.
"You won't be," said Harry, taking a seat across from her and setting down the rag. "Look at me-I've done accidental magic or magic to defend myself when there was no other choice before. I'm still at Hogwarts, aren't I?"
"You're Harry Potter," she said dryly. "Everyone makes allowances for you. I'm just like any other student. They won't do the same for me."
"You are not like any other student. You're the one being given all the credit for taking down Voldemort. I'm willing to bet you're currently rivaling me in the fame category. Besides that, you did it to save our lives and you're Hogwarts' top student. You'll be let back in. Maybe you'll be given a warning, but nothing more. Dumbledore is Headmaster and Fudge is out of office. You'll be fine."
Hermione nodded, though she still looked a little sick and uneasy. She stood, looking a bit pale and nodded toward the stairs. "I think I'll go to my room." She walked out without another word and Harry could feel the distinct walls she'd put up yet again. He let out a loud sigh and banged his head gently on the table. He'd been making such progress with her and now they were back to base one all because of a pair of ignorant Muggles. He wasn't annoyed so much as disappointed.
Almost as though he could read Harry's mind, Mr. Granger patted him on the shoulder. "Don't feel bad, son. This may have made her more despondent again, but I haven't seen her this open since the summer before her fifth year. I'm glad you're here. You're really helping her."
Harry looked up, surprised. "How'd you know I was thinking that?"
Mr. Granger gave him a small smile and rose to his feet. "Your comment last night, along with the fact that I've been trying to bring her out of her shell for months. I know the feeling. Hopefully you'll succeed where I couldn't."
Any further conversation was cut off by the abrupt arrival of Hermione's mother. She set a small bag on the counter and looked to Harry and her husband, worry in her every feature. "I've heard they're telling more tales," she said in disgust. "Apparently there's a new rumor spreading-a couple of wizards who nearly killed two teenagers. The lies are making me sick."
Mr. Granger winced a bit and looked sideways at Harry who was already beginning to edge toward the door. Mrs. Granger saw the look and her eyes narrowed. "What?"
Harry exited quickly before the explanations started again. He bounded up the stairs and headed toward his temporary room. Hermione's door was shut and he considered knocking on it, but thought better of it. Let her have her space. He wasn't going to help her by closing her in.
He locked himself in his own room and opened the window to air out the stuffy atmosphere. He sat down on his bed and picked up a book off his table, intending to read it, to do something to get his mind off the day's events. His attempt failed and he soon found his eyes roaming pages and taking nothing in while his thoughts roamed the empty plains of answers. He thought that leaving the Dursleys for the last time would be the best thing to ever happen to him. That had happened and all that had come of it was more questions than he had ever imagined he'd have to deal with. Everything seemed to be a mystery with no solution. And in the midst of it all, he had also found a feeling of complete and utter content. The difference in emotions was messing with his head, confusing him.
He set the book down, realizing he'd read the same page four times without understanding a single word. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. There was no point in pondering these questions on no sleep. While he dreaded what would come in his dreams-particularly if Hermione was dreaming as well-he could no longer fight off his exhaustion. He collapsed into unconsciousness.
::: 3 :::
DESTINY'S ESCALATIONS
"Last time you fell and you hit hard
Your wounds have healed by now
But you still see your scars."
--Three Door Down
The sun dawned the next day upon two extremely weary and confused teenagers. Harry sat in his room, hand cramped, reading the letters he'd written over the course of the past several hours. He'd written them slowly. Once Hermione's parents had come back upstairs and went into their room, Harry and Hermione went between one another's rooms every now and then, to talk, or in Harry's case, to ask advice on letters. Harry was happy to see Hermione becoming more open to him. He'd just settled down to finish his letters on his own with no more distractions an hour ago. He'd gone in to ask Hermione how to spell a word to find her dozing peacefully on her bed, his book lying closed next to her and Crookshanks curled on her stomach.
Harry's first letter to Ron had been extremely easy to write. With his friend, he could talk and be open easily. He could call the Dursleys whatever he wanted and speak about the odd things happening to Hermione freely. It was harder with Sirius. It was more difficult to figure out the right ways to put things. It was the latter letter that had taken him the longest to write. He set Sirius's aside and glanced over Ron's before folding it neatly.
Ron,
How've you been? I'm writing to tell you many things. To begin, I'll
say that you can stop bugging your mum about letting me stay over. I'm
currently residing with Hermione. Why? Because for some odd and un-
known reason, the Dursleys threw me out. Absolutely no warning. I was
just standing in the kitchen and Uncle Vernon appears, drags me up the
stairs, then drags me and all my stuff back down the stairs and throws me
outside. It's probably the best thing the Dursleys have ever done for me.
I'll have to remember to write a thank-you note.
Hermione found me and this is when things get weird. Apparently, she
knew the Dursleys were going to throw me out because she had this vision.
The vision led her right to the park where she found me. To top it all off, we
are both having the same nightmares at the same times. Needless to say,
this is all extremely unsettling. I'm writing to Sirius about it. Hopefully him
or Dumbledore will have some explanation.
Well, I hope your summer's going better than mine. Maybe I'll see you
soon.
--Harry
Harry nodded to himself and folded the letter up, deciding it was satisfactory. There were a few conventional errors, but Harry ignored them-he was only sending it to Ron after all. Ron wouldn't give a garden gnome whether or not Harry had spelled everything right. He doubted Ron would catch any mistakes he might have made anyway.
He turned his focus to Sirius's letter, the more difficult of the two. He'd already edited this one and scanned it again, more slowly than he had Ron's.
Dear Sirius,
The Dursleys have kicked me out. I'm living with Hermione right now, and
her parents say it's all right if I remain here for the duration of the summer. I'm
sorry to say it, but I told you it was a bad idea to send me to them! Besides that,
Hermione and I are dealing with being together just fine, so you need not worry
about that.
I do have a question, though. Hermione's having these odd visions-she
said she saw the Dursleys kick me out during one of these. That's how she
found me in the park afterwards. We're also having the same nightmares at the
same times. Care to shed some light on the situation? Does Dumbledore?
Thanks,
Harry
Harry shrugged, feeling that though it wasn't his best work, it would suffice. He was, after all, sleep deprived. Writing didn't come easily to him at the best of times-let alone after a whole night without sleep. Besides that, he didn't want to sound too worried, and he came off sounding pretty passive and unruffled in the letter. He tied both notes to Hedwig's leg and told her to whom they went. She hooted reassuringly and nipped his finger affectionately before swooping out Harry's window and into the gray sky of dawn.
He settled himself down on his bed once more and lay staring at the ceiling for several minutes, contemplating the events of the past two days. So many questions remained. Why had the Dursleys kicked him out so suddenly and without notice? What was going on with Hermione? Why was he the only one Hermione could talk to? Hopefully the days ahead would bring answers to at least a few of these.
He heard footsteps outside the door and a man's loud yawn. Harry glanced at his watch. Ten past seven. Hermione's parents were getting up. Harry struggled wearily to his feet and stumbled over to his trunk. The fatigue that he'd been fighting for so many hours was catching up to him and his eyelids felt heavy. His every movement was slow and groggy. Seeing his own haphazard movement in the small mirror that hung over the dresser, he had to admit that he somewhat resembled what Crabbe and Goyle looked like on any given day.
Harry pulled on some baggy jeans and a large t-shirt and attempted to use his fingers to make his hair lay flat and straight. It had grown very long over the past few months and for the first time since Harry could remember, he was actually beginning to see it do what he wanted it to. It no longer stuck out in every direction, instead staying flat to his head for the most part. It was a welcome change.
Once he'd slipped on his socks, he walked down the stairs, feet dragging. He found the Grangers where he'd left them the night before-in the kitchen. Mr. Granger was squinting wearily through small reading glasses at the newspaper and Mrs. Granger was setting out some eggs. Both appeared quite stunned to see him appear there and he began to feel a bit self-conscious. Normally he was ignored when he walked into a room, not stared at.
"Harry!" cried Mrs. Granger. "Oh, dear, you don't have to be up so early. Head on back up to bed if you're still tired."
Mr. Granger looked at Harry and gave him a small smile. "You didn't sleep last night," he stated as though it were the most normal thing in the world. Harry shook his head a bit sheepishly. "And Hermione? I suppose she's still up in her room pretending to be asleep as well? I doubt she's gotten a full night's sleep in months." Mr. Granger's tone had changed from mildly amused to wistful.
"Actually, she dozed off sometime around five a.m.," stated Harry. "I imagine she's still asleep, with Crookshanks right on top of her. It's a sight that crosses between cute and hilarious. It's rather funny to see that devil cat curled up on top of her like any regular cat. It actually looks peaceful for once. I couldn't fall asleep, so I just decided to wake up. The Dursleys would normally force me up around this time anyway. Not that they've had to this summer-I can assure you I've been getting no more sleep than Hermione has."
Harry helped Mrs. Granger prepare breakfast until Hermione arrived sometime around nine. She looked tired, but oddly relaxed, quite the contrary to how she'd looked last night-tense and jumpy. She noticed that the circles under Harry's eyes were so dark they looked black and every part of him seemed to ooze exhaustion. "You look terrible," she told him good-naturedly.
"And I can assure you, you look no better," said Harry cheerfully, though he was at a loss to explain where his sudden burst of calm happiness came from. Feeling a sudden urge to do what he'd done last night and make her laugh, he flicked his wrist and tossed the pancake he'd been cooking high into the air. He made a big show of being terrified he was about to drop it and managing to catch it at the last second.
Hermione had to smile at Harry's goofy mood as he flipped the pancakes in the pan over the stove. "Stop impersonating Fred and George. It doesn't become you," she teased. She was completely unaware of the shocked looks she was getting from her parents.
"Hermione, you do seem better today," said her mother in surprise, smiling at her daughter.
Harry watched as Hermione's defensive barriers seemed to reconstruct in seconds. Her smile vanished and she sat down across from her father, shrugging a little. "I guess," she muttered.
Just as fast as Harry's good mood had come, it disappeared, leaving him feeling strangely hollow. It seemed that he was the only one Hermione was willing to show any emotion to. He was the only one she would talk to. Thinking about it, that did make some sort of sense. He had been right beside her for much of her ordeal. It made sense that she'd want someone who understood. It still hurt Harry to see her revert back to the quiet shell he'd managed to bring her out of.
A heavy, tense atmosphere hung over them all as they ate their breakfast. Hermione finished and announced she was going back upstairs. Harry washed his hands and followed her a few minutes later. He knocked on her door and entered when she allowed him to. She was just opening the book she'd borrowed from him.
"Hey," he said casually, though it felt horribly insignificant.
"Hello," she replied, not really looking at him.
"Okay, I'll cut to the chase, Herm," he said, making her look up. "Are you going to spend your life sitting up here? It's a nice day out. Don't you want to go and do something? Let's face it, there's not much to do in here."
Hermione appeared torn. She looked from him to her window and back again. "I don't know," she murmured. "I'm sort of interested in this book and . . . it is summer, there will be other nice days . . ."
"The book can wait just as much as the day can. You'll have plenty of time to read, but the day won't last forever. And the book will stay the same-there may be other days, but none will be exactly like this one."
"And what's so special about this one?" asked Hermione.
"How will we know unless we go and find out?" countered Harry.
He could see she was beginning to relent, but it appeared she wasn't going to give up this fight without throwing out every possible excuse for why she shouldn't go. "Be that as it may, we need to study," she stated matter-of-factly. "O.W.L.s take place just two weeks after we arrive at Hogwarts. We can't fail them! We'll be forced back to fifth year."
Harry laughed and rolled his eyes. "Give it a rest, Hermione. We don't go back to Hogwarts for two months. Two months! And it's not as though we've got other homework to conflict with studying. Be honest-have you studied at all before now?"
Hermione shook her head. "That's the point!"
Harry just raised his eyebrows at her. For a moment, the two stared at each other, Harry with what he hoped to be a cute, begging expression on his face and Hermione with a torn, uncertain look on hers. Finally, Hermione slammed the book shut next to her with a loud clap, making Crookshanks jump. "Oh, fine!" she agreed, her tone annoyed, but her face relaying a slight smile. "But if we fail our O.W.L.s because you wanted a field day, I will never forgive you."
Harry snorted. "You're not in danger of failing. You could not study at all and still manage passing marks. That's just the way you are. It's me who'll get thrown back. So come on."
Hermione stood and tucked her wand into her deep pocket, leaving only the barest tip exposed, which was promptly covered by her shirt. She muttered about Harry missing the point, making his smile widen. He wasn't sure how he was doing it, but somehow, Hermione seemed to be returning to herself before his eyes. He could still see a jaded, haunted look in her eyes, not too different the one he saw in Sirius's. However, he somehow had an odd effect on her-whenever he was around, she seemed better, a lot like her old self. She was so different when she was around her parents-quiet and withdrawn. He felt a nice sensation whenever he was in her company as well. Though he'd never taken everything that had happened as hard as she had, and he'd managed to return to relatively normal after a few weeks, he'd never been completely the same. The memories haunted him, changing him subtly whether he felt it or not. Being around Hermione made him feel happy and lighthearted-those were two things he'd certainly never felt since leaving Hogwarts.
Hermione was already dressed so the two slipped their shoes on and headed down the stairs. When they went to tell her parents they were leaving for a while, he could feel the change in Hermione almost as though it were he himself that were changing. He could feel her close up like a flower in the dark. Her parents appeared even more shocked than they had that morning when Harry announced they were going out.
The day outside was as beautiful as the view from the window had promised. The sun shone merrily down, making it warm, but not hot. A gentle breeze lapped at their faces, blowing their hair in wispy storms around their faces. The sky was bright blue, with no clouds in sight, not even fluffy white ones. Harry and Hermione walked in silence, but it was a companionable silence much different from the one they'd experienced at breakfast that morning. Harry felt all his worries abandon him, leaving him with a light, free feeling.
He wasn't sure what made him do it, but before he could stop himself, he took Hermione's hand. A moment later he felt a few of his worries return and suddenly wanted his smack himself. Was he insane? Yes, he still liked her-now more than ever, probably. But now wasn't the time to show that, not when she was still hurting. In the midst of all these thoughts questions screaming inside his brain, it took him a while to notice Hermione had not pulled away.
"So," said Harry, breaking the easy silence, "are you still capable of saying that you'd rather be studying?"
"This is nice," she relented, not really answering his question directly. Harry could see the answer written on her face, though, deep within her blissful expression. "I'm glad I'm out in the sunshine again."
They lapsed once more into the silence which both felt more comfortable with. They had no destination. They were about to pass the park when Harry stopped, looking in. He looked back at Hermione and shrugged. "Want to go there?"
"I like it here," she agreed, but she was eyeing him oddly. With a hint of amusement, she said, "I just thought you'd had enough of parks yesterday."
Harry shrugged again. "Well, it's better than the street. Let's go there, if you want to."
Hermione agreed and the two headed into the park. It was much larger than the park in which he'd fallen asleep the previous day. There was a baseball diamond and some elaborate playing structures for younger kids. There was also a pond some ways in, to which Hermione led Harry. It was surrounded by circular bushes with a small entrance. The pond was clear and cool with colorful stones in the bottom. There was a bench on one side and Harry noticed a slight smile on Hermione's face as she began to speak.
"This is where I come sometimes," she said. "It's been my favorite spot since I was little. We've lived here all my life and I discovered this when I was eight, I think."
"It's nice," agreed Harry. "I would definitely not object to spending my time here. Too bad I didn't have one like this over by the Dursleys-I'd have spent a lot of time there." He laughed at the concerned expression on her face as they both sat down on the bench. "Don't worry about me. The Dursleys were awful, yeah, but it's over now. They've kicked me out-which has been my dearest wish for as long as I can remember. I never have to go back. Best birthday present I've ever gotten!"
Hermione nodded and then seemed to realize something. "Your birthday! It's only in a couple of weeks, right?"
Harry nodded. "Yeah." He shrugged. "Don't bother doing anything about it. Your family has done more than enough for me already. If anything, I should be throwing you the party." He quieted and decided to change the subject. "We've talked about the Dursleys enough, as far as I'm concerned. I intend to forget them as promptly as possible. What have you been doing this summer?"
"Nothing, really," said Hermione, smile vanishing. Her eyes were focused on a small, buzzing dragonfly that hovered over the surface of the pond. She bit her lip, apparently conflicted about something. Harry watched silently, allowing her time to consider whatever was troubling her. Finally, she looked over to him. "To be honest, Harry, I've rarely said a word since the summer began. I've hardly left my room. Everything that used to seem normal suddenly seems horribly inadequate. It's like I'm seeing the world in a completely different light. I haven't been this open with anyone in months. I don't know what it is about you, Harry, but I can talk to you, whereas I can't to anyone else. I still feel different, but it helps that you're here. It helps more than you can know."
Harry opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by the arrival of two people in the small clearing. He stopped for the sake of not wanting to say anything in front of strangers. He noticed the two people for the first time. The men were tall and tough looking, with spiked hair and chains. They looked to be about nineteen. One was holding a switchblade-and was heading right for Harry and Hermione.
Harry jumped to his feet and stood in front of Hermione, who was now rising to her feet as well. Harry felt small and weak without his wand. The boy holding the knife didn't stop and continued forward. He grabbed Harry and shoved him to the ground. The other boy did the same to Hermione.
Harry was unsure of what to think. Thoughts chased themselves around his brain as he struggled and yelled. He was cut off abruptly when he felt the cold steel of the knife against the back of his neck. He froze.
A laugh came from behind him. "That's right, four-eyes, stop if you want to live," he said, a distinct American accent tinting his words. "Just tell me if you got any cash and we'll be on our way."
"We don't have anything!" cried Harry. He was afraid, but he fought the fear down, knowing that panicking could not help him. "Check if you want, but you won't find anything."
"That I will," snapped the boy, jerking Harry upward so that he was now on his knees. The boy felt his pockets, but, true to Harry's word, found nothing. He swore and shoved Harry forward. "Paul, check the girl," he snarled, sounding very angry.
"Leave her alone," growled Harry, "she hasn't got anything either! We were taking a walk-we didn't come loaded."
"Don't get smart," he snarled. "If you're lying, I'll kill her, so you might want to rephrase that if you are."
Harry remained silent, his heart thudding in his chest. He couldn't see Hermione from his current position, but knew the second boy was going through the same routine with her-checking all her pockets for money.
"What's this?"
Harry jerked his head over, confused at what had been found. The boy holding him was too distracted by his partner's findings to stop Harry from looking. Harry felt his heart stop and could see the horrified look on Hermione's face. The boy was holding her wand.
"Now why would a teenage girl carry a stick in her pocket, but not any cash?" snarled the boy holding the wand, speaking with no accent.
The boy holding Harry shoved him to the ground. Harry was on his feet in an instant as the boy crossed over to his friend. He took the wand and examined it. Harry watched as realization dawned. "Paul, this is no stick. It's one of the things those freaks on the news have been using to kill people. She's one of the freaks!" His head swiveled to look at Harry, his eyes narrowed. "And so's he. Only one thing to do with freaks like you." He pulled out the switchblade.
Harry could only react as Paul made a motion to slash Hermione with the knife that he had positioned at her throat and as the boy holding Hermione's wand came at him. He leaped, tackling Paul to the ground. His knife flew out of his hand and Harry suddenly found himself in the middle of a ball of fists. Paul was attacking him brutally and it was all Harry could do to defend himself. Physical fighting was not his strong point and he wished desperately for his own wand.
Hermione jumped to her feet the second Harry had tackled her attacker. The other boy, the one that had been holding Harry came for her, but she dodged. In one swift movement, she had grabbed her wand from his hand and pointed it at him. "Stop," she called, her voice echoing powerfully over them all.
Paul detached himself from Harry and went to stand by his partner. Harry continued to lay on the ground, coughing. He was bloodied, but watched the scene before him as though he didn't notice at all.
"Get out," ordered Hermione. "And don't tell a soul what happened here."
"You wouldn't," dared the first boy, stepping forward. He still held the knife. "You're too chicken."
Hermione's hand was steady and Harry saw a look in her eyes that he'd never seen before. He knew she would hurt him-and badly. Before, every time they'd been in a fight with magic, Hermione had been hesitant to use offensive spells. He'd never seen her look so serious.
"One more step and you'll find out," Hermione warned. "Drop the knife."
He laughed and rushed her suddenly. "Jevolosia!" she cried and the boy went soaring backwards just as quickly as he had come forward. He flew high over the bushes and continued on until he hit the trunk of a tree and slid down to the ground, moaning. Paul looked at her in terror and took off running, pushing his way right through the bushes to escape.
Hermione's hand slowly lowered as she watched him retreat, pulling an injured friend with him. When she was certain they would stay away, she came to Harry's side. He was already standing and backing towards the exit of the circular stand of shrubs.
"Are you okay?" she asked. He had a bruise forming on his left cheek and a bloody nose, but he didn't appear too badly hurt.
"Yeah," he muttered, still staring at where the boys had disappeared. "Let's get out of here. Someone was bound to have seen that and this is definitely not a good time to be seen doing magic by Muggles."
Hermione blanched. "You're right," she whispered. "And I did magic outside of school. What if they expel me?"
"Not now," said Harry, grabbing her arm and pulling her along. "We can't talk now. We have to get out of this park."
Several people stared at them as they ran through the park, some running away and Harry knew in that instant that they had indeed been seen. He felt like he'd swallowed a rock that was now weighing him down from the pit of his stomach. Once they were back on the sidewalk, they continued to run for a couple of blocks before slowing to a walk.
Harry looked over at Hermione. She was still very white and was holding her wand in her hands very tightly, staring at it. He noticed for the first time the line of blood specks on her neck. "You're bleeding," he said, looking closer.
She put her hand to her throat and pulled it away again. Sure enough, there was a small amount of red on it. For the first time, she noticed it was stinging. "I suppose he managed to cut me a little bit before you tackled him," she said. "It's not deep, just a scratch." He could see tears in her eyes as she looked to him. "How can Muggles act so horribly towards us?" she asked. "They don't even give us a chance . . ."
"Yeah," said Harry bitterly.
"They don't just discriminate-they try to kill us!" she sobbed, and he noticed she was shaking. Her first time really outside the house all summer and this happens, thought Harry sadly. This should certainly encourage her to go out more often.
Harry could think of nothing to say to her horribly accurate statement, instead choosing to put his arm around her and walk silently back to her house. They walked slowly, but reached her house quickly.
Harry closed the door quietly when they entered, but in the warm silence of the day, the door closing echoed loudly despite his efforts. Mr. Granger appeared a second later, wearing a smile that vanished the moment he saw his daughter's shaken state and Harry's bloodied face. He rushed forward. "What happened?" he asked anxiously, looking his Hermione over carefully and noticing the blood on her neck. "Are you okay?"
Harry cast a weary look at the inviting couch, but remained standing. He was covered in dirt and grass and didn't want to soil their living room. Instead, he remained standing as he told the tale.
When he'd finished, Mr. Granger wore a look of anger. "Bloody teenage gang members," he growled, gently pushing Hermione onto a seat by the counter and leading Harry firmly to the sink, dampening a rag to wipe off the drying blood.
"It's not just the gang members," muttered Harry, taking the rag from Hermione's father and beginning to clean himself up. "It's Muggles in general-no offense to you, of course. They're attacking us. A lot of wizards have been hurt or killed by Muggles."
Mr. Granger nodded grimly. He was now sitting by Hermione and helping her get the blood off her neck. "I'm aware. I've been seeing the news reports. It's disgusting. Our television went out a few days ago-that's where Cecile is now, in fact, getting the part we need for it. It's been a nice break. We don't give anyone a chance. It's embarrassing to say I'm one of them."
"You're not," insisted Hermione, speaking up for the first time. "You may be a Muggle, but you aren't one of them because you aren't going around and attacking and killing witches and wizards. That makes a difference, Dad."
"Doesn't feel like it," said Daniel Granger sorrowfully, squeezing Hermione's shoulder. "But I have to say one thing-I'm beginning to think even your mother will be reconsidering not letting you go back to Hogwarts. Not after something like this. You were right, sweetheart-it is just as dangerous here."
Harry, though he had no idea what was going on in this respect, saw the flash of hope in Hermione's eyes and inferred the point of this conversation. He rushed to add another defense in Hermione's favor. "Especially if we make the evening news, which I have a terrible feeling we will."
Hermione moaned at this thought and put her face in her arms. "If I'm not expelled already," she muttered, her words so muffled they were barely audible.
"You won't be," said Harry, taking a seat across from her and setting down the rag. "Look at me-I've done accidental magic or magic to defend myself when there was no other choice before. I'm still at Hogwarts, aren't I?"
"You're Harry Potter," she said dryly. "Everyone makes allowances for you. I'm just like any other student. They won't do the same for me."
"You are not like any other student. You're the one being given all the credit for taking down Voldemort. I'm willing to bet you're currently rivaling me in the fame category. Besides that, you did it to save our lives and you're Hogwarts' top student. You'll be let back in. Maybe you'll be given a warning, but nothing more. Dumbledore is Headmaster and Fudge is out of office. You'll be fine."
Hermione nodded, though she still looked a little sick and uneasy. She stood, looking a bit pale and nodded toward the stairs. "I think I'll go to my room." She walked out without another word and Harry could feel the distinct walls she'd put up yet again. He let out a loud sigh and banged his head gently on the table. He'd been making such progress with her and now they were back to base one all because of a pair of ignorant Muggles. He wasn't annoyed so much as disappointed.
Almost as though he could read Harry's mind, Mr. Granger patted him on the shoulder. "Don't feel bad, son. This may have made her more despondent again, but I haven't seen her this open since the summer before her fifth year. I'm glad you're here. You're really helping her."
Harry looked up, surprised. "How'd you know I was thinking that?"
Mr. Granger gave him a small smile and rose to his feet. "Your comment last night, along with the fact that I've been trying to bring her out of her shell for months. I know the feeling. Hopefully you'll succeed where I couldn't."
Any further conversation was cut off by the abrupt arrival of Hermione's mother. She set a small bag on the counter and looked to Harry and her husband, worry in her every feature. "I've heard they're telling more tales," she said in disgust. "Apparently there's a new rumor spreading-a couple of wizards who nearly killed two teenagers. The lies are making me sick."
Mr. Granger winced a bit and looked sideways at Harry who was already beginning to edge toward the door. Mrs. Granger saw the look and her eyes narrowed. "What?"
Harry exited quickly before the explanations started again. He bounded up the stairs and headed toward his temporary room. Hermione's door was shut and he considered knocking on it, but thought better of it. Let her have her space. He wasn't going to help her by closing her in.
He locked himself in his own room and opened the window to air out the stuffy atmosphere. He sat down on his bed and picked up a book off his table, intending to read it, to do something to get his mind off the day's events. His attempt failed and he soon found his eyes roaming pages and taking nothing in while his thoughts roamed the empty plains of answers. He thought that leaving the Dursleys for the last time would be the best thing to ever happen to him. That had happened and all that had come of it was more questions than he had ever imagined he'd have to deal with. Everything seemed to be a mystery with no solution. And in the midst of it all, he had also found a feeling of complete and utter content. The difference in emotions was messing with his head, confusing him.
He set the book down, realizing he'd read the same page four times without understanding a single word. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. There was no point in pondering these questions on no sleep. While he dreaded what would come in his dreams-particularly if Hermione was dreaming as well-he could no longer fight off his exhaustion. He collapsed into unconsciousness.