Three Times Six, Chapter Four
By: myr_halcyon
Summary: Chapter three, continued. Still nine months back in time.
Disclaimer: Oh, you know the drill by now.
=====
"Going to die?" Hermione blinked a few times. "Don't you think you're being a little melodramatic, Harry?"
Harry glanced around the compartment, taking in the dead lamps, the empty seats, and Ron lying prone amongst the empty wrappers on the floor. He pressed his hand against the glass of the window, which had inexplicably begun to fog over on the outside, completely blocking his view.
"Look at us," he said quietly. "All of us. We've been so worried about our petty little lives that we've forgotten that there was ever a problem. And I bet that was what he wanted, too," he added, turning to face her. "No one could have expected anything to go wrong on the Hogwarts Express going back to London. For some reason, we all assumed we were safe..."
Hermione shook her head. "Just because Ron's having visions and the emergency brake went off and the lights died is no reason to --"
"Listen to yourself, Minnie," said Harry. "Ron has visions, the lights flicker and extinguish, the windows are fogging up on the outside so we can't see through them, and on top of that the train stops so fast it had to have been the dead man's brake. Don't you think that's a little too much of a coincidence?"
"Look," said Hermione a little too loudly, "I think you're just in love with angst and intrigue. Couldn't this just be an innocent break down? The conductor accidentally loses his grip on the dead man's brake and the train stops, trying to start it up again he bumps a power switch and the lights go off, we're at a high elevation so it's cold outside, and Ron has a nightmare like Trelawney."
Harry sighed. "I wish I could believe you, Hermione, but there's one thing you don't seem to have picked up from your reading."
"What's that?"
"A wizard's dead man brake is directly linked to his vital signs -- brain activity, pulse, breathing. When they stop, the train stops. This was no accident."
Hermione shrugged. "Okay, so he had a heart attack or something. It can be explained, Harry."
Harry leaned against the wall, squinting to make out the outside. "I don't think so," he muttered, pulling out his wand and prodding the glass with it to try and clear the fog on the outside. "This is just plain weird."
The train creaked. "That's it," said Harry. "I don't know what's going on, but I'm leaving. My scar hurts and I do not feel safe here. Call me paranoid, Minnie, but I'm leaving." He pushed on the window frame, but in vain. It had mysteriously locked itself and refused to budge, though there was no latch. Harry glanced at Hermione. "Explain that one."
"Okay, okay," said Hermione. "Move over." She stretched her hand out toward the window and shouted something in Greek. The pane melted into a deformed glob of glass at the bottom of the frame.
Harry, impressed despite his growing unease, poked his head out of the window. Dim shapes were moving about the front of the train, but he couldn't make them out to be friend or foe. A light drizzle had begun to fall, but all the other windows Harry could see had been hastily welded shut, as his own had apparently been. He turned and gestured to Hermione. "We should get out of here, and now," said Harry. "I've got a bad feeling about this."
"What about Ron?" asked Hermione. Ron still had not moved, though he appeared to be breathing.
"He told us to leave, Minnie," said Harry. "If it's that urgent, we won't have time to carry him. It doesn't look as though he'll be waking up any time soon. I'm sorry, but if we go, we go alone."
Hermione, torn between her two best friends, stood helplessly in the middle of the compartment. She turned away from Harry and placed her hands against the door.
She drew them back quickly, startled at the heat that seemed to be coming from the wood itself. Thin tendrils of steam were starting to creep under the door. "Please, Minnie," said Harry, horrified. Hermione bit her lip and took his outstretched hand. Together they jumped through the window and began to run, praying they would not be noticed.
"Accio, Firebolt!" cried Harry as the dark shapes turned from the train and began to run towards them. He hoped against hope that the luggage compartments had not been welded shut...
His gamble paid off: as he and Hermione fled from the train, he heard a whoosh behind his head. He stretched out his own arm and caught the broom neatly. He paused to mount, pulling Hermione on in front of him. She began to protest, but when she saw the dark shapes following them, her complaints ceased. Harry kicked off, his trusty broom easily carrying both thin students. They soared above the train as Harry tried to get his bearings without the compass from his broom care kit. Those were probably the Cairngorm Mountains, yes, and that was the River Spey...
"Harry!" Hermione hissed, pointing at the train. The entire train had begun to throw off sparks. Apparently the dark figures hadn't been chasing Harry and Hermione; they were fleeing the train. The creaks must have been a firebug being planted...
Harry and Hermione watched in horror as hands pounded the windows of the train and terrified faces pressed against the glass. The sparks increased in intensity until the engine exploded in a ball of green flame.
The following spectacle was horrible: each car exploded, one after another, like a morbid string of firecrackers. The screams from the students trapped inside became audible as they realised they were going to die. Hermione stared stoically at the death train, silent tears running down her face as she watched Ron's minute body combust into a smoldering pile of ash. As the fireballs continued to consume innocent students, Harry wailed, turned the Firebolt around, and flew as fast as he could in the opposite direction.
***
Hermione woke up slowly to the feeling of water trickling down the back of her neck. She looked around groggily and nearly had a heart attack when she realised the ground was half a kilometer below her. "H-Harry?" she said, grabbing a fast hold on the thin piece of wood that was all that kept her aloft. An arm slipped around her waist and she relaxed into the curve of Harry's body.
"Just sleep," Harry whispered, wiping his tear-stained cheeks in Hermione's hair. "Everything is all right again...when you sleep..."
***
Hours later, Harry gently set down in a little town in southern Scotland. As much as he would have liked to keep flying until he fell asleep and crashed to his death, he felt a duty to Hermione. He couldn't make the decision to die for her, and he couldn't abandon her here. He had to live for her.
He tied his broomstick to his back and gathered the sleeping girl up in his arms. She looked so peaceful. Harry couldn't help himself Ð he bent over and gently kissed her lips. So soft...tears began to roll down his face again, and Harry turned away, cursing himself. Hermione was Ron's girl, and it was Harry's fault that Ron was dead. Ron...
Harry choked back a sob and headed towards the nearest barn. Hopefully the Muggles wouldn't be alarmed by two teenagers huddled in their hayloft for the night. Harry wished he'd thought to Summon his invisibility cloak before the train exploded, but he'd barely had the presence of mind to call his Firebolt, much less his trunk.
He nudged the barn door open with a whispered word and pulled it closed with his foot. He set Hermione down in the damp straw on the ground and pulled out his wand. "Lumos," he muttered, filling the building with a small but warm light. It glanced off a small shape, slithering through the straw on the other side of the barn.
"Evening," whispered Harry.
The snake stopped and raised its head to get a better view of Harry. "Evening," it hissed back. "You loss-st?"
"Yes," nodded Harry. "We just need a place to stay. Do you think the Muggles Ð er, people here Ð would mind if we stayed the night?"
The snake slithered over and coiled itself in front of Harry. "You're hiding from ss-something," it hissed.
"We are," said Harry. "Please, it's very cold outside and we're tired. Where's the best place for us to sleep?"
"Try the attic," the snake hissed, glancing significantly at the sheep huddled together in the stalls. "They won't help you," it added, sliding away into the darkness.
Harry stared up into the dark attic above the stalls. There was no ladder to be seen, but that was no problem for a fully-trained wizard. He pulled the Firebolt off his back and flew quietly up to the loft. Hay, straw, and nothing else. But it didn't look like the Muggles came up here too often, so he and Hermione could spend the night unnoticed. He crouched at the edge of the loft. "Wingardium leviosa," Harry whispered, watching as Hermione's body rose gently off the floor. He reached out and grasped her arm, guiding her into the attic. He caught her in his arms and lowered her into a pile of straw. She twitched, batting at the stalks that scratched her face. "Stop it, Ron," she whispered, laughing softly.
Harry buried his face in his hands. Why had he insisted in leaving Ron behind? Why had he been so selfish as to ruin the one true love relationship he had ever witnessed? He tore his fingernails down his face, doing everything he could not to scream.
Why did he love Hermione so much?
=====
A/N: I have finally decided where I'm going with this, though that will probably change while I write. Thanks a ton to MC for reviewing Ð sorry the updates are so few and far between. I probably should have written the whole thing before I posted, but I'd change everything anyway, so this is probably the fastest way for me to write. That way, I can be flexible, too! Please review, even just to say hi. -MH
Summary: Chapter three, continued. Still nine months back in time.
Disclaimer: Oh, you know the drill by now.
=====
"Going to die?" Hermione blinked a few times. "Don't you think you're being a little melodramatic, Harry?"
Harry glanced around the compartment, taking in the dead lamps, the empty seats, and Ron lying prone amongst the empty wrappers on the floor. He pressed his hand against the glass of the window, which had inexplicably begun to fog over on the outside, completely blocking his view.
"Look at us," he said quietly. "All of us. We've been so worried about our petty little lives that we've forgotten that there was ever a problem. And I bet that was what he wanted, too," he added, turning to face her. "No one could have expected anything to go wrong on the Hogwarts Express going back to London. For some reason, we all assumed we were safe..."
Hermione shook her head. "Just because Ron's having visions and the emergency brake went off and the lights died is no reason to --"
"Listen to yourself, Minnie," said Harry. "Ron has visions, the lights flicker and extinguish, the windows are fogging up on the outside so we can't see through them, and on top of that the train stops so fast it had to have been the dead man's brake. Don't you think that's a little too much of a coincidence?"
"Look," said Hermione a little too loudly, "I think you're just in love with angst and intrigue. Couldn't this just be an innocent break down? The conductor accidentally loses his grip on the dead man's brake and the train stops, trying to start it up again he bumps a power switch and the lights go off, we're at a high elevation so it's cold outside, and Ron has a nightmare like Trelawney."
Harry sighed. "I wish I could believe you, Hermione, but there's one thing you don't seem to have picked up from your reading."
"What's that?"
"A wizard's dead man brake is directly linked to his vital signs -- brain activity, pulse, breathing. When they stop, the train stops. This was no accident."
Hermione shrugged. "Okay, so he had a heart attack or something. It can be explained, Harry."
Harry leaned against the wall, squinting to make out the outside. "I don't think so," he muttered, pulling out his wand and prodding the glass with it to try and clear the fog on the outside. "This is just plain weird."
The train creaked. "That's it," said Harry. "I don't know what's going on, but I'm leaving. My scar hurts and I do not feel safe here. Call me paranoid, Minnie, but I'm leaving." He pushed on the window frame, but in vain. It had mysteriously locked itself and refused to budge, though there was no latch. Harry glanced at Hermione. "Explain that one."
"Okay, okay," said Hermione. "Move over." She stretched her hand out toward the window and shouted something in Greek. The pane melted into a deformed glob of glass at the bottom of the frame.
Harry, impressed despite his growing unease, poked his head out of the window. Dim shapes were moving about the front of the train, but he couldn't make them out to be friend or foe. A light drizzle had begun to fall, but all the other windows Harry could see had been hastily welded shut, as his own had apparently been. He turned and gestured to Hermione. "We should get out of here, and now," said Harry. "I've got a bad feeling about this."
"What about Ron?" asked Hermione. Ron still had not moved, though he appeared to be breathing.
"He told us to leave, Minnie," said Harry. "If it's that urgent, we won't have time to carry him. It doesn't look as though he'll be waking up any time soon. I'm sorry, but if we go, we go alone."
Hermione, torn between her two best friends, stood helplessly in the middle of the compartment. She turned away from Harry and placed her hands against the door.
She drew them back quickly, startled at the heat that seemed to be coming from the wood itself. Thin tendrils of steam were starting to creep under the door. "Please, Minnie," said Harry, horrified. Hermione bit her lip and took his outstretched hand. Together they jumped through the window and began to run, praying they would not be noticed.
"Accio, Firebolt!" cried Harry as the dark shapes turned from the train and began to run towards them. He hoped against hope that the luggage compartments had not been welded shut...
His gamble paid off: as he and Hermione fled from the train, he heard a whoosh behind his head. He stretched out his own arm and caught the broom neatly. He paused to mount, pulling Hermione on in front of him. She began to protest, but when she saw the dark shapes following them, her complaints ceased. Harry kicked off, his trusty broom easily carrying both thin students. They soared above the train as Harry tried to get his bearings without the compass from his broom care kit. Those were probably the Cairngorm Mountains, yes, and that was the River Spey...
"Harry!" Hermione hissed, pointing at the train. The entire train had begun to throw off sparks. Apparently the dark figures hadn't been chasing Harry and Hermione; they were fleeing the train. The creaks must have been a firebug being planted...
Harry and Hermione watched in horror as hands pounded the windows of the train and terrified faces pressed against the glass. The sparks increased in intensity until the engine exploded in a ball of green flame.
The following spectacle was horrible: each car exploded, one after another, like a morbid string of firecrackers. The screams from the students trapped inside became audible as they realised they were going to die. Hermione stared stoically at the death train, silent tears running down her face as she watched Ron's minute body combust into a smoldering pile of ash. As the fireballs continued to consume innocent students, Harry wailed, turned the Firebolt around, and flew as fast as he could in the opposite direction.
***
Hermione woke up slowly to the feeling of water trickling down the back of her neck. She looked around groggily and nearly had a heart attack when she realised the ground was half a kilometer below her. "H-Harry?" she said, grabbing a fast hold on the thin piece of wood that was all that kept her aloft. An arm slipped around her waist and she relaxed into the curve of Harry's body.
"Just sleep," Harry whispered, wiping his tear-stained cheeks in Hermione's hair. "Everything is all right again...when you sleep..."
***
Hours later, Harry gently set down in a little town in southern Scotland. As much as he would have liked to keep flying until he fell asleep and crashed to his death, he felt a duty to Hermione. He couldn't make the decision to die for her, and he couldn't abandon her here. He had to live for her.
He tied his broomstick to his back and gathered the sleeping girl up in his arms. She looked so peaceful. Harry couldn't help himself Ð he bent over and gently kissed her lips. So soft...tears began to roll down his face again, and Harry turned away, cursing himself. Hermione was Ron's girl, and it was Harry's fault that Ron was dead. Ron...
Harry choked back a sob and headed towards the nearest barn. Hopefully the Muggles wouldn't be alarmed by two teenagers huddled in their hayloft for the night. Harry wished he'd thought to Summon his invisibility cloak before the train exploded, but he'd barely had the presence of mind to call his Firebolt, much less his trunk.
He nudged the barn door open with a whispered word and pulled it closed with his foot. He set Hermione down in the damp straw on the ground and pulled out his wand. "Lumos," he muttered, filling the building with a small but warm light. It glanced off a small shape, slithering through the straw on the other side of the barn.
"Evening," whispered Harry.
The snake stopped and raised its head to get a better view of Harry. "Evening," it hissed back. "You loss-st?"
"Yes," nodded Harry. "We just need a place to stay. Do you think the Muggles Ð er, people here Ð would mind if we stayed the night?"
The snake slithered over and coiled itself in front of Harry. "You're hiding from ss-something," it hissed.
"We are," said Harry. "Please, it's very cold outside and we're tired. Where's the best place for us to sleep?"
"Try the attic," the snake hissed, glancing significantly at the sheep huddled together in the stalls. "They won't help you," it added, sliding away into the darkness.
Harry stared up into the dark attic above the stalls. There was no ladder to be seen, but that was no problem for a fully-trained wizard. He pulled the Firebolt off his back and flew quietly up to the loft. Hay, straw, and nothing else. But it didn't look like the Muggles came up here too often, so he and Hermione could spend the night unnoticed. He crouched at the edge of the loft. "Wingardium leviosa," Harry whispered, watching as Hermione's body rose gently off the floor. He reached out and grasped her arm, guiding her into the attic. He caught her in his arms and lowered her into a pile of straw. She twitched, batting at the stalks that scratched her face. "Stop it, Ron," she whispered, laughing softly.
Harry buried his face in his hands. Why had he insisted in leaving Ron behind? Why had he been so selfish as to ruin the one true love relationship he had ever witnessed? He tore his fingernails down his face, doing everything he could not to scream.
Why did he love Hermione so much?
=====
A/N: I have finally decided where I'm going with this, though that will probably change while I write. Thanks a ton to MC for reviewing Ð sorry the updates are so few and far between. I probably should have written the whole thing before I posted, but I'd change everything anyway, so this is probably the fastest way for me to write. That way, I can be flexible, too! Please review, even just to say hi. -MH