Okay, I was suppose to update last week, but then all my stupid classes decided to pile a HUGE load of projects on me.

Good news, though. English in finished with The Odyssey, so I'll celebrate by posting another chapter! Bad news: We're starting Romeo and Juliet right after Spring Break. Bleh…

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, I wouldn't have gone further than the second book 'coz I'm lazy like that

How She Came To Be...

Chapter Four:
Darkness Fell, Knowledge Shined Through…(1988)

The phone rang. Nine-year-old Hermione rolled over to her side to look at her alarm clock. It was one o'clock in the morning. She groaned and punched her pillow. Didn't anyone tell those idiots that it was rude to call past nine? She grabbed her pillow and put it over her head as the phone rang again. She winced slightly as her one-month-old braces bit into the inside of her cheek.

"No consideration at all," she grumbled, pulling a stuffed otter to her face. It was the same one that spoke to her three years ago. Olive usually didn't speak unless Hermione was deeply sad or angry. One of its paws was tattered and bare. Her parents offered to give it to one of her younger cousins, but she refused to part with her dearest friend.

The brrrrrrrrrrrring of the phone stopped in mid-ring. Dad's baritone voice rumbled through the hardwood floor, causing her to smile slightly. Dad's voice was just like Grandpa's, friendly and warm.

Suddenly, even through the floor, Hermione detected a change in tone. Dad called for Mum and there was a sharp edge in his voice—the voice that he used when one of his patients walked into the clinic with a piece of glass in jammed in his gum. She brought her head out from under the pillow and listened intently, trying to sort out the mumbles. She could only make out a word every once in a while, but it wasn't enough to understand what the two were talking about. She finally slid out of bed, Olive tucked under one arm, tiptoed to her door, and cracked it open slightly.

"…No, don't wake her," Dad's voice carried up the stairs.

"Are you sure you have to go? Mum asked nervously.

"Don't worry," Dad said as the jingle of colliding keys drifted to the second level and Hermione pulled the door open a bit more in time to catch sight of her parents in the foyer. "If I'm not back in a few hours, tell Rosaleen to cancel all my appointments."

Dad's tall figure pulled on a light jacket as he spoke in a would-be calm tone. Mum was behind him, shaking slightly. She reached forward and gave him a hug. The two stood together for a full minute.

"Send him my love," Mum whisper as she broke the embrace, wiping an eye.

"Don't worry," Dad said in a gruff tone as he pulled the door open, "he'll pull through. He's do it before."

The door clicked shut. Hermione quickly shut her bedroom door, too. Now she was sure something wasn't right, but she was torn. There was a major unit test in science the next morning and she really needed sleep. Then there was the mystery of the midnight phone call. She finally rolled back in bed. After all, she thought, Mum and Dad would have woken her if it were something important.

Her alarm went off and she immediately silenced it by thumping the off button groggily. It was another Tuesday morning. Another day of school. Another day to impress her teachers. Another day of being the smart one who was proud of being knowledgeable.

She was fastening the button of her skirt when someone knocked on her door.

"C'min," she said as she checked her bookbag to make sure she had all her books.

"Hermione?" Mum said in a mournful tone as she walked in. "You're not going to school today."

She whirled around, prepared to protest and plead her case, but the words caught in her throat as she looked at her mother. The normally rosy face was pale, brown eyes now red and swollen, and her clothes were wrinkled and stained.

"Mum, did you sleep at all last night?" was all that she could come up with.

"Your grandmother called last night," her mother said in a gentle tone. "Grandpa was in the hospital."

"Is he all right?"

"He," Mum's voice broke as her eyes glistened with tears. "He passed away right after your father arrived at the hospital last night.

Hermione froze. She watched as a tear fell out of Mum's eye. Grandpa was…

"No," she whispered numbly. "He can't be dead. He…" he's Grandpa. He can't be dead. It's impossible.

"You're Granny's going to stay with us for a while," Mum continued in a choked tone as Hermione slowly lowered her body onto her bed. "Until…until…" she faltered, her lips trembling dangerously.

"He—he can't be dead," she said jerkily.

"I wish it were true," Mum said gently, drawing a knuckle across her cheek.

"Why?" she asked. "Why him? Why couldn't it have been someone else? He…he—!" Her words faded as a lump surged up her throat. She bit it back, pushing it down to her stomach. She was not going to cry. She was not going to cry. She was not…

Too late. Like a geyser, the lump gathered momentum and exploded as it rose. She broke into violent tears, sobbing without restraint. Mum's arms entwined her and the two rocked back and forth until the stream of tears dried and the sobs became sniffles.

"It's not fair," the nine-year-old whispered into her mother's shoulder.

"I know, I know," came the comforting words. The grief stricken pair sat there.

Hermione lay in bed that night. She didn't want to sleep. She couldn't.

"Are you all right?" asked a small voice.

She smiled slightly, lifting the cover to find her slightly worn stuffed otter gazing at her curiously. Her smile faded as she replayed the day in her mind. "Grandpa died today."

The otter made a sympathetic sound and wrapped its stuffed paws around her neck.

"I wish I could talk to you all the time," said the girl as she sat up.

"I do too, but rules are rules."

"What rules?" asked Hermione as the paws came loose and the otter scurried across the bed.

"Something about powers and such," Olive said uncertainly. "I don't exactly remember, but I think that I can only talk to people when there's a special power going on or something."

"Oh," said Hermione, but she was still confused.

Someone knocked on the door. "Hermione? Are you talking to someone?"

"No, Dad," she answered, wriggling into her blankets, "just me."

Footsteps sounded and the two waited until they faded. Olive skipped across the bedspread. "Do you need anything?"

"No, just a friend," she said, giving the stuffed otter a slight squeeze before falling asleep.

"He was a loving father and will be missed by all who knew him," the minister droned as Hermione stood near her beloved Grandpa's burial site. She was standing the farthest away, trying to erase the image of Grandpa-in-the-coffin. Her two younger cousins, both less than five years of age, clutched their parents' hands. Mum and Dad stood next to Granny. Grandpa's friends were also present. Everyone stood in silence.

She stole away from the group. This was not how Grandpa wanted it. He never seemed serious enough to die. She walked to the edge of the cemetery where the old tombstones lay. Withered flowers sat before the headstones, weeds slowly creeping up the sides. This was what Grandpa's grave would look like after she…died.

She shuddered. Death. The dark shadow of unknown. Those who went never came back. Ever.

She looked back at the group clad in black. Her eyes stung with tears. She wished she could hear his voice one more time…

"Here you go," Granny set a thick black book before her eldest granddaughter. "Your grandfather…wanted me to give it to you."

"Thank you," Hermione whispered as she looked that the thick black book. She traced the golden heading. Mythology.

Granny turned to leave the room.

"Granny," she called after her. The widow stopped and turned around. "Can I stay with you during Easter Break next week?"

"I would like that?" the middle-aged woman smiled slightly before closing the door behind her.

Hermione opened the book and out fell an envelope. Her name was printed across it in a shaky handwriting. She broke the seal and took out a sheet of paper. The handwriting was also unsteady, but she could still make out the words.

Dear Hermione,

I'm sure you don't remember, but you were once interested in mythology. I was suppose to tell you about the Trojan War, but I never did find the time. I'm sorry. You may read it now, if you wish. I marked the pages with blue to let you know where it is.

I'm leaving you now, but I'm not really gone, Hermione. I'm still there. And not just in the minds and hearts of everyone that I know. I'm not as far as you think. Death is something you should embrace. It's the unknown that makes life worth living. When we are alive, we live and prepare for the day that we die. If something is veiled then it is something worth looking at. When you don't understand something, always go beyond the boundaries of what you know and add as much to your pot of knowledge as you possibly can. If you think you have acquired all the knowledge that you can possibly retain, you are deeply mistaken. There is no such thing as too much intelligence.

When you have realized that, then you can make a difference. Start with a book. Then another. And another. But don't always build on what other people say. Experience it for yourself.

There's something about you that others don't understand. Use that to become who you were born to be.

Love always,

Grandpa.

"I will Grandpa," she said fiercely as she drew the back of her hand across her face in an angry fashion. She didn't have to cry anymore. She now knew what she had to do.

She turned to the book and, sure enough, there was blue across one part of the book. She opened the book to the proper section and found that it was about one hundred pages long. Shaking her head slightly, she set it aside. This could wait for another day.

Yay, I finished another chapter!

Responses to reviews:

Prin69: Yeah, Olive talked to her! I used to wish MY stuffed animals would come to life too! I had this stuffed squirrel and I used to talk to it. My parents thought I was insane, but okay. Thanks you SOOOOO much for the review! It was deeply appreciated!

Padfootlives101: Aw, it's okay you didn't review right away! It's the teachers practicing their evil powers and just loading us down with all this homework thisclose to spring break! Ergh, I HATE the third quarter! It's the slowest quarter of the year! Thanks for the review! Yeah, I'm cutting back on the apologizing (can't quit cold turkey, though…) thanks for pointing that out!

Okay. So. Liked it? Have little suggestions? Hated it? Want to throw owl pellets at me? Drop a review! And, please, if you have excess anger, I'll take it! Flames are…interesting. Just REVIEW, okay? Um…please:hands out bags of gummy worms:.

Until next time, my little muffins,

Farfanugans,

Chikin Wang.