Outside Looking In
Chapter Three
~ by flourishes
Disclaimer: I wouldn't be sitting in my little corner of America if I actually owned Harry Potter. I'd be traveling the world.
~*~
Half the world is sleeping
Half the world is awake
Half can hear their hearts beat
Half just hear them break
--Julie Gold
~*~
It's been three hours since they laid Hermione into a bed in the corner of the over crowded hospital wing. There have been long unintelligible groans of pain, high-pitched screams, sobbing, and whispered conversation coming from all around us. But Hermione has been silent. She hasn't stirred. Her face is peaceful – the corners of her mouth are quirked upwards in a gentle smile. Whatever she's thinking, I hope it's happy. There really hasn't been much to be joyful about lately – in fifth year everything was so tense – and ever since sixth year we've been on tenterhooks, just waiting for the right time to cast the circle.
Maybe she's remembering that last summer, the one after fourth year. Sure, Voldemort was back.
But it bloody well didn't seem like it.
He made no overt attacks; he just steadily regained his power base. I think it lulled us all into a false sense of security. However false, I clung to that security and wore it like my favorite Chudley Cannons
T –shirt. Faithfully.
I pretended that he wasn't there, that Harry's eyes weren't haunted and hollow, that that summer would last forever.
Because I knew, once school started up again, that reality would set in. I had no idea how harsh that reality would actually be.
I think if I had known, I'd have voluntarily gone to live among Aragog and his kin.
'Course, I probably wouldn't have.
But I would have run far, far away.
~*~
I've lost track of time. The light coming in from the casements long ago ceased. I'd forgotten how eerie the hospital wing could be at night. Even Madam Pomfrey is sleeping (and that woman never sleeps, at least in my experience) and only the occasional cry interrupts the stillness of the air. Hermione slumbers on.
I have to stay awake, maintain my vigil.
If I pray hard enough, maybe she'll wake.
If I talk long enough, maybe she'll respond.
I think I've said the phrase "Do you remember when…" at least a thousand times already. Those memories – of laughter, Quidditch, Malfoy the Amazing Bouncing Ferret, and even fighting trolls – take me back.
Sometimes I wish that things could be that simple again.
I know that's why I'm fighting. So my children can laugh over fake wands and gripe about the Daily Prophet. If I die – well, then, I'll have died so that someone else's children have the freedom to do that.
But I'm not going to dwell on that eventuality.
Especially since I'm sitting in the Hospital Wing, among so many who could die – and especially since we have lost so many since Cedric Diggory.
I think I'll dwell on the happy memories. And since I've left Hermione with so many tonight, I don't think she'll mind if I close my eyes and try to get a wink of sleep. I am so very, very tired. I can only hope that my dreams are pleasant – or that I have none at all.
~*~
I dream of the Burrow, of that last summer…
~*~
I figured I'd be keeping in touch with Harry and Hermione by owl until Mum got Dumbledore's permission for them to come visit – well, at least for Harry. Hermione just had to convince her parents to let her come, they would, but only after they'd had their daughter to themselves for a bit of the summer holiday.
I didn't think I'd be seeing Hermione till at least the 31st of July – but I was wrong.
Dad came home one night from the ministry with the news that his mate at the Floo Regulation Panel had permanently connected Hermione's London home to the network. It was solely in case of emergency.
Mum threatened me with disembolment if I even thought for one second about flooing there. In Dad's words, strictly speaking, Muggle homes weren't supposed to be connected.
I didn't know about the next person, but I was quite fond of my digestive tract. I couldn't live without it, so…I didn't even consider flooing to Hermione's until a lovely chat I had with Fred and George a week or two into the holiday.
I knew they'd been experimenting with some new products lately – where they got the money I'll probably never know. They were being very closemouthed all of the sudden. Usually they never shut up.
Mum had apparated over to the Fawcett's for a bit of tea and conversation, and, I like to think, a bit of silence. Fred and George had moved their operations into the shed under the guise of cataloguing Dad's Muggle plug collection. There were even louder explosions than last year, but when Mum checked, the haphazard piles of plugs and other various Muggle contraptions were beginning to be organized. I was under the impression that Ginny was the one doing the actual cataloguing, but Mum was happy.
Mrs. Fawcett was an old school friend of Mum's – every once in a while they'd get together and have a good go at the gossip. Mum was at her house on the other side of Ottery St. Catchpole. The twins and Ginny were out in the shed, and I was in my room, trying hard to concentrate on my newest acquisitions – books.
Bill had sent me a list of books that he thought would be very helpful, given the current climate. I assume he was referring to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's reappearance, and the fact that I was best friends with his ultimate target.
Whatever Bill's motives, Percy had jumped on the list and before I knew it a stack of books worthy of Hermione were piled beside my bed and I was elbow deep in hex books (I told Bill that Hermione and I had helped Harry with his research for the third task, but no, did he listen? Of course not.) I had charm books, potions books, Transfiguration for the Seriously Endangered Wizard, and general information books about the Dark Arts and Magical Society as a whole.
To my utmost chagrin, at the top of Bill's list was Hogwarts, A History. Percy made sure it was near the top of the pile, too. If it ever got back to Hermione…I shudder to think of the crowing. I know that Sirius sent a similar list to Harry – so if she does find out, maybe I won't be alone in my misery. And besides, as soon as I'm done, the books go straight to Ginny.
Anyways, I was deep into a chapter on Chess strategy (I didn't say all the books were horrible) when shrieking erupted from the depths of the black hole that my father calls a shack and my brothers call a laboratory. Of course, the book was thrown aside immediately and I launched myself down the stairs, wand in hand. After all, you can never be too careful, right?
I was halfway across the lawn before I was able to discern the words behind the screaming. I wondered where my sainted little sister had picked up some of that vocabulary. Certainly not from me. It seemed I wouldn't need the wand, after all. But I did want to see what had Ginny so riled up.
Let's just say, however overused, clichéd, or stale the phrase is, it was priceless.
Fred and George were on the floor of the shed, rolling around in fits of laughter on top of the spark plugs. Ginny was, well, Ginny had two heads. Her mouths were moving in synchronized sounds of outrage. Fred and George were compared to the scum of the earth and I was lumped into that particular comparison as well, seeing as I had joined the twins on the floor. Ginny was so busy spouting off about the different ways she was going to make the twins suffer that she didn't notice that Percy had appeared in the doorway of the shed. Despite being a pompous, overbearing git most of the time Percy did have enough sense to realize potential blackmail material when he saw it. He grabbed the Muggle camera that Hermione had humored Dad with by teaching him how to use it and snapped a picture of Ginny the Two Headed Wonder.
Great Chap, Percy. He used that picture to ensure that none of the new Weasley's Wizard Wheezes would be slipped into his food, clothing, or mail tray. Ginny returned to normal after about five minutes.
She hexed Fred and George so badly that it took both Percy and I three hours to look up all the counter curses and reverse the spells. Seemed as if Ginny'd been doing her reading as well. It left me as the only guinea pig for their new inventions, though. I'm quite sure Fred and George won't be trying out any more products on Ginny for a very long time, indeed. I doubted they'd wish to repeat the experience ever again.
After all, there aren't even names for some of the stuff Ginny threw at them. Percy and I had to look up the counter curses under effects. George's hair should turn back to its normal color soon, I hope. Pink isn't a horribly good color on him.
But that's beside the point. I was sitting in the family room, alone with my Potions homework, trying to no avail to figure out just what the heck Snape was thinking, assigning that kind of crap essay when Fred and George emerged from the shed.
Fred sat across form me, and George stood by the fireplace, one arm draped casually over the mantle.
I recognized a classic Forge ambush when I saw one.
George would do the enforcing, for the most part, and Fred would do the talking.
I didn't have a clue what it could be about, though. I hadn't done anything – recently – to warrant such an obvious interrogation. It wasn't about me, as I soon figured out.
"So, Ronald. Heard from Hermione since King's Cross?" Fred said, nonchalantly.
As a matter of fact, I'd had one letter. Couldn't figure out what they'd be wanting with Hermione, however. So I hedged. "Seeing as she happens to be one of my best mates, what do you think?"
Identical grins cackled. "Now, now. We don't want you to get your dander up. We're just inquiring as to her general health. Her parents are denticators, no?"
"Dentists."
"Ah, yes. That. So tell us, little Ron, why does Hermione sneak home bags full of Honeydukes sweets – that happen to be concealed in bags marked as potions ingredients?"
"How do you…?"
Fred's grin was wicked in its scope. George spoke, this time. "Fred and I," he said, motioning towards Fred's stance in the chair, "thought our dear old Hermione could do with a few laughs this summer."
Oh, that was not good. I managed to get out of them that they'd included not only Two Headed Twists, but also something they called Silencio Sugars and even another product that they hadn't named yet. It that turned the recipient into a squirrel temporarily. And when I'd asked if that was all, Fred just gave me a roguish wink and said,
"Well now, we'll just have to wait until Hermione decides to become a normal human being and succumbs to the temptation of Honeydukes best candies, now, won't we?"
That qualified as an emergency. If Hermione were suddenly to sprout two heads in the middle of Muggle London the Ministry of Magic would have to get involved – certainly something that Fred and George had not factored into their equations. You'd think they would have been more careful, but no. I guessed I'd have to forgo my digestive tract after all and floo to the Grangers.
After all, I was being responsible.
Then, of course, I remembered the last time Harry and I had tried to be responsible.
We'd crashed the Ford Anglia into the Whomping Willow. I guessed I should try to owl first, yes, that would be the right way to go about it.
In typical fashion, Pig was gone. Ginny's the only one that borrows him - the other members of my family prefer the slowness of Errol to the hyperactivity of Pig. Ginny was in her room, leisurely flicking through a magazine. A model smiled and twittered on the cover – Witch Weekly.
"Why do you read that crap? You know what they did to Hermione and Harry – it's just a load of old tosh, that rag."
"Maybe, but its funny tosh."
All right, so this conversation was getting me nowhere. "Fine. Next time undiluted bobotuber pus is sent to you by a Witch Weekly reader and you think it's funny, let me know. Where's Pig? He's not in his cage and I didn't send him anywhere. Did you borrow him again – without asking?"
"You were too busy rolling around on top of Dad's spark plugs to ask."
"So, you did take Pig."
"Brilliant of you, Ron."
"Where'd you send him?"
Ginny's eyes narrowed dangerously. "That's my business, don't you think?"
"That's my owl, if you please. And that's also a lovely shade of magenta, there, Ginny. Am I right in assuming that Pig went on a lovely jaunt to Surrey?"
You'd think after seeing Fred and George hex riddled an incapacitated that Ginny's temper, which was usually just as volatile as mine, had gotten considerably shorter fused since the last time we'd verbally sparred at each other.
It's extremely hard to walk down three flights of stairs when you're under the Jelly-legs jinx, when your wand happens to be in the pocket of the jeans you threw in the laundry basket after one of George's hex induced pustules burst all over you.
And since ingoing 4th years and above were no longer being cited for using magic during the summer (as long as they lived in Wizarding homes or had express permission to construct wards for the Muggleborns) because of the new "situation", Ginny wasn't even going to get remotely in trouble.
As luck would have it, Errol was lying facedown in his cage. He was still alive – but I had to check to make sure. Mum'd been sending food to Harry and the latest bunch must have made Errol all tuckered out.
Percy was working out of his room again. I decided that he would just have to come to me, as walking up the stairs was near impossible when your legs feel like the consistency of grape jelly.
"Oy! Percy! Ministry Owl here for you!"
He wasn't very pleased to walk all the way down the stairs only to be confronted by my wobbling self and no letter. But he did tell me Hermes was out - and he was so very kind enough to reverse the jinx.
There wasn't any choice, then. I would have to floo to Hermione's. Dad was still at the Ministry. Mum was out puttering in the garden, the WWN blaring. She wouldn't even know I was gone. Percy was back shut in his room; Ginny was thankfully nowhere near the fireplace. The twins were, well – where else would they be?
So I took a pinch of powder, stepped into the fireplace and shouted, "The Grangers!"
Dad had told me he'd had the fireplace in Hermione's room connected. I was somewhat curious to see what her room would look like – probably happily clean and tidy. The grates swished past quickly and in no time at all I was stepping out of the fireplace. The first thing that registered to me was that Hermione's room was in fact very untidy. And the second thing that I registered was that there were two girls sitting on the bed. One of them was definitely not Hermione. I was pretty sure that the clunk that followed my realization came from that other girls' body striking the floor in a dead faint.
Bollocks. That was not good. It was also really, really funny.
Especially the expression of Hermione's face. She looked like she'd just swallowed frog spawn. I figured I should say something. "Erm…I guess I should have owled first then. To make sure you weren't ah, umm, receiving Muggle visitors?"
Hermione gave me her McGonagall look. Seemed as if she'd been practicing.
As Percy was the only one currently at the Burrow who could perform a memory charm and would not cut certain pieces of my anatomy into small pieces, he was the one I had to fetch. Fetch. Haha. C'mon Percy, lets go obliviate Hermione's friend. That would go over well. He'd be just thrilled. Although, since it was an opportunity for him to have an entirely peaceful summer, as he already had the goods on the twins and Ginny, he might not be too upset.
He wasn't, at that. He'd just raised his eyebrows and sighed resignedly, and told me he'd apparate to the Grangers directly. I turned around after I made the firecall to see Hermione still glaring daggers at me.
She had a bag of candy open in front of her. She handed the other girl some. Oh no. Not good, not good at all.
Before I could open my mouth, Percy apparated. The girl didn't say a word. She looked like she wanted too, though. Drat. It would have been a Silencio Sugar. I couldn't help myself. I tried not to laugh.
But it was so very, very funny.
Hermione didn't think so, obviously. Her eyes were so narrow I couldn't figure out how she was able to see. But boy, she sure could scold. She sounded just like my mother. All seven questions enclosed in her diatribe were delivered without pause.
Course, when I said as much her hand moved automatically to where her wand would be, but luckily she didn't have it on her.
I had no desire to be subjected to Jelly Legs again. So I figured I had better address her complaints.
"One question at a time. First, you just fed Miranda – is that her name? – one of Fred and George's new creations. They mixed some of their new products in with your stuff from Honeydukes on the train. I was coming to tell you that, as George only let it slip last night. Didn't want you to spout two heads like Ginny did, awhile back. They slipped something into her cake when Mum was out visiting the Fawcetts. I think what you gave her was one of the silencio sugars or some equally odd product name that makes use of the literary device of alliteration. She should be able to talk again soon. It's not just the shock. Oh, and that's why I was laughing. That, and you just did a remarkable impression of my mother. Are you taking a correspondence course or something in the scolding of Ron and other miscreants?"
Oooh, she didn't like that. The facts that Fred and George had tampered with her things – briefly I wondered whether they'd come across her diary- and Miranda's mouth was cemented together combined with my laughter had her almost to the breaking point.
"Get to the point, please, Ronald."
Of course, I had to push just a little more.
"Which one?"
"I don't care if they cite me. Where's my wand?"
She really didn't like that. Time to gear into pacification mode. You see, I know just what buttons to push to get Hermione riled up – fighting with her is my chief entertainment source and I do it as much as possible. As a result, I know that if I would never not want to fight with her, there is a point at which to stop.
"Okay, okay. I'm aware of the danger. I was just afraid you'd attract attention if you happened to start acting like a squirrel – that one was inspired by Dean in Moody's class, you know – or sprout two heads, or do something else that they didn't tell me, the wankers. And Hermione? I'm sorry but I think Miranda will have to be Obliviated. If someone starts asking questions or something and she just happens to mention a red head popped out of your fireplace things could get pretty dodgy for you here. The charm won't have to be as powerful as the one the Ministry used on the Robert's. It shouldn't harm her. She'll just be a little disoriented for a while. She'll be fine, really. About Dumbledore…my intentions were good – I was being responsible by coming to tell you what Fred and George had done. So I don't think there'll be much of a problem there. And the ministry won't have to get involved – Perce can do a pretty mean memory charm. I didn't owl first because Hermes was "busy, delivering important ministry correspondence" but I think just flying a letter over to Penelope's, and Errol was recuperating. He flew into the window again, after Mum sent him to Surrey with some food for Harry – the Dursley's are starving him again. Ginny was borrowing Pig – when I asked where she sent him she mumbled something unintelligible and turned a rather odd shade of magenta. Which of course led me to believe she's conducting some sort of secret correspondence with none other than Harry. So as you can see, no owl. Even though my hilarity would know no bounds if you just happened to spontaneously start pawing the air like a squirrel, I don't think you would have appreciated it. Dad's had you connected to the Floo Network in case there was an emergency and I thought this qualified as a minor one. And besides, I missed you, good friend and all that you are. "
I hate being a red head. We blush so easily. As soon as the words "missed you" left my mouth I could feel my ears flame.
Blimey.
The only consolation was that Hermione seemed to have lost control of her verbal skills. It was quite a consolation, indeed, her usual eloquence diminished to unintelligible mumbling. That didn't happen very often at all.
Apparently she'd said that we should go talk to her parents. I'd never actually held a real conversation with the Drs. Granger, just said hello, goodbye, and cheerio in Diagon Alley.
They're pleasant enough people – although Mr. Dr. Granger looked a tad bit murderous when Percy and I appeared behind Hermione and Miranda the Muggle in the doorway of their study. Mrs. Dr. Granger looked flabbergasted at Hermione's explanation, but she was understanding enough. Percy obliviated Miranda and then he Apparated, while Miranda was still unfocused.
Hermione seemed to have recovered the use of her vocal cords and remembered that she was supposed to be upset at me. I gave her a quick explanation of how to discern between real Honeydukes candy and Wheezes, needled her a tad more, and then I was gone.
Percy was waiting for me when I got home; Mum was still out in the garden. Dad wasn't home. There was no escape. Percy was tapping his fingers. He cleared his throat.
"So."
Oh joy. Joy, Joy, Joy.
"It was an emergency. Fred and George mixed their products into Hermione's candy from Honeydukes. You know what happened to Ginny.
I could see him, contemplating.
I'd just implicated the twins – but hey, my digestive tract or them getting stuck degnoming the garden? It was an obvious choice. Hopefully Percy would be reasonable. More likely, he'd run straight to Mum. But that would ruin the blackmail he had on the twins and Ginny. I'm no great shakes at logic. Especially since this was Bighead Boy. His mind always works in ways contrary to that of normal young male wizards
In the end Percy decided immunity from all of his siblings till living at home was more important than venting his anger to Mum.
Luckily for me….
~*~
There is a rustle somewhere behind me. I can't identify it. I've been startled out of my sleep – my wand is still in my pocket. I grab it, tensed. I don't know where I am. Every instinct that I have honed since fifth year screams that there is danger. I whirl, my wand outstretched.
Only to be faced by the slim form of my sister. It must be close to dawn. The room is no longer inky black.
Ginny reaches for my wand-arm, lowers t to my side.
"Ron. You need to sleep."
"I was sleeping, then you woke me up."
"Granted. But you need to sleep in your own bed. That chair can't have been very comfortable. And I doubt you were sleeping very long."
"Comfort has nothing to do with it, Ginny. I'm not leaving Hermione."
Her mouth twists in a wry smile. "You can't help her, Ron. She's unconscious. You know that."
"I'm still not leaving."
"Thick-headed prat. You have to keep up your strength. You know that, too. You know how important – "
"No. It doesn't matter. Without Hermione we don't have a chance."
Ginny sighed.
"But Hermione will be there. In the foretelling, she's there. That's proof that she's going to wake up."
I really couldn't believe that she was putting so much faith in Sybill Trelawney.
"You're forgetting that Sybill Trelawney is not her whatever greats grandmother. She's a crackpot old bat who likes nothing more than to tell people they're going to die."
"You heard her, Ron. Harry did too. The foretelling is real. Dumbledore said they were real trances – just like in your third year when she predicted the return."
The foretelling gives me hope. But at the same time, I really can't just trust everything Trelawney says. I know she was right twice – but only twice. Could she be right again?
Seriously, any person that could give the utterly ridiculous Divination homework that Harry and I concocted glowing praise would have to be severely addled in the brain.
I wanted to believe in the foretelling. The ultimate result of the foretelling would be what our whole world has been striving for since Voldemort's little rebirthing party. His downfall. It would also mean that Hermione will be alive – and powerful enough – to cast the circle.
But I know what Trelawney isn't. She isn't a true seer.
And besides, the foretelling wasn't like any of the others that had gone before. It was different, in more ways than one…
"Accio Wand!"
My wand slips through my fingers and into Ginny's outstretched hand.
"You need to go to bed. Now. You're dead on your feet. When we get back to Gryffindor Tower you're going to get into bed and then I'll give your wand back and come straight here so Hermione won't be alone."
Her wand is trained on me. She isn't taking any chances. I don't have a choice but to lead the way. It's all right, I think. I'll be back soon enough. After all, Ginny won't remember the invisibility cloak.
~*~
She did. And I was so very, very tired. The boy's dormitory was silent, save for Neville's snores. Harry's four poster was empty.
I fell asleep, slowly.
And I dreamt again of that last, bittersweet summer, before the world fell apart.
~*~
Hold fast to dreams.
For if dreams die,
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
~Langston Hughes
~*~
Author's Note: This was written ages ago, while I was still in school, sometime in late May when finals were still breathing down my back. I know this because scribbled at the bottom of a page on my notepad are the words Modern Russia, Middle East, and China, which to me mean that I was writing when I shouldn't have been the day my World Cultures teacher told us what the final was going to be on. Obviously it was written before Order of the Phoenix came out and I've just been too lazy and away too much to type it up and post it. I did consider recanonizing everything, so it would fit, but it's too much of a job. (in case any one was wondering, I was one of the insane people standing in line at midnight to get the book) Anyhow I'm just going to let this be an AU fic and hopefully by the time it's done I'll have read OotP for the third time and have cemented some ideas for a new fic or two. I was suffering writer's block for awhile on this fic so if you'd like to see the results of that click on my bio where you'll find A Curious Affinity With Rats, my take on Peter Pettigrew. Thanks much to any and all reviewers. Also kudos to my betas, TMJ and Eleclyn Starmaker. This piece was beta read only by Mauvvie, because Ellie's away at camp in Canada, and she's the one that catches most of my mechanical errors so if there's many I apologize.
P.S. I also wanted to say that I'm hugely sorry for the delay (something like three months or more, since I wrote this during finals and I've now started back to school) My summers are whirlwind, and it's a bit pathetic that I have more time to write during school than I do out. I'm still working out when and where in my schedule I can write, seeing as I went from having three study halls to one, and the classes that I specified for writing last year have changed from being incredibly easy to me actually having to pay attention. Also, this is late because the disk where I keep all my work vanished. I had a quasi breakdown and flung the house upside down, but didn't find it. Luckily I had a copy of this chapter on my computer, but it was the unbetaed version, and I threw fits upon fits when I found it there in its awful form. This was better, once upon a time, and If I ever find the disk I'll repost the better version. If there are any glaring errors, let me know.
